But my observation and experience no other has had. I know of no
other who mapped out or traveled the route chosen by me. I sought
and expected much; I found and experienced more. And though eight
years have passed since my journeyings in Gilead, yet so fresh is
the memory of those days that I need make but slight reference, as
I write, to the notes that were then written. Often, in recent
years, I have found myself lingering in thought on some high ridge
looking out over an extended panorama filled with sacred
associations, or silently gazing up into the strangely impressive
Oriental sky by night. Even as I write I seem to catch again a
perfume-laden breeze, bearing repose to my weary soul. And if the
memory of this land seen in its desolation is so refreshing to a
foreigner, what must not the possession of the real in the days of
its fatness have been to the weary, battle-scarred Israelites who
secured permission to abide here!

So, in response to the call of my friends, and with the hope of
adding somewhat to the meager fund of information concerning a
once famous district, or, at least, to create additional interest
in the territory occupied by the tribe of Gad in the days of early
allotment, I undertake to tell the story of "My Three Days in
Gilead."

Dayton, Virginia, February 20, 1909.