distance traveled to-day is said to be fifty miles. But when we
arrive here the road and bridge are crowded with sheep and goats
being brought in from the valley for safety in the night. My first
sight of the Jordan, which at this place is clear and sparkling,
does not particularly impress me. I long for rest, and so we do
not tarry, but pass directly into the village lying just at the
west end of the bridge.

Oh, the wretchedness of this place! I wonder what kind of
entertainment I can find here. There is little choice as to a
place of lodging. The best and only accommodation that the
miserable village affords is what was formerly used by robbers as
a prison-house for their victims, but which is now used as a kind
of store-room. There is but one room, and its earthen floor is
littered over with filth of almost every description, while dust
and cob-webs everywhere abound. This is the RECEPTION-ROOM for our
party of four.

While my dragoman busied himself in getting supper, I sat on a box
making notes of what I had seen and experienced that day. Just
then the place served as KITCHEN and WRITING-ROOM. I wrote
rapidly, and as I wrote the thought that somewhere that day I had
crossed the path of the Master in his Perean ministry thrilled me.
I said, "Mr. Barakat, I am going down to the Jordan for a while
after supper." He replied, "All right, and I'll go with you'."
"No," said I, "I want to be alone down at the bridge." He simply
said, "I'll go with you."

Our supper was a light affair, but our host brought a platter of
something that looked like dark beeswax, but which proved to be a