common, but not in a bad form. Jerusalem is far more unhealthy, because of
the lack of water. But the Jews of Hebron are miserably poor. How they live
is a mystery. They are not allowed to own land, even if they could acquire
it. There was once a little business to be done in lending money to the
Arabs, but as the Government refuses to help in the collection of debts,
this trade is not flourishing, and a good thing, too. There are, of course,
some industries. First there is the wine. I saw nothing of the vintage, as
my visit was in the spring, but I tasted the product and found it good. The
Arab vine-owners sell the grapes to Jews, who extract the juice. Still
there is room for enterprise here, and it is regrettable that few seem to
think of Hebron when planning the regeneration of Judea. True, I should
regret the loss of primitiveness here, as I said at the outset, but when
the lives of men are concerned, esthetics must go to the wall. The Jewish
quarter was enlarged in 1875, but it is still inadequate. The Society
Lemaan Zion has done a little to introduce modern education, but neither
the Alliance nor the Anglo-Jewish Association has a school here. Lack of
means prevents the necessary efforts from being made. Most deplorable is
the fact connected with the hospital. In a beautiful sunlit road above the
mosque, amid olive groves, is the Jewish hospital, ready for use,
well-built, but though the very beds were there when T saw it, no patients
could be received, as there were no funds. The Jewish doctor was doing a
wonderful work. He had exiled himself from civilized life, as we Westerns
understand it; his children had no school to which to go; he felt himself
stagnating, without intellectual intercourse with his equals, yet active,
kindly, uncomplaining--one of those everyday martyrs whom one meets so
often among the Jews of Judea, men who day by day see their ambitions
vanishing under the weight of a crushing duty. It was sad to see how he
lingered over the farewell when I left him. I said that his house had
seemed an oasis in the desert to me, that I could never forget the time
spent with him. "And what of me?" he answered. "Your visit has been an