plies one of the tributary streams of the Kishon. It gushes out of a deep, cavernous recess in the steep cliff, and forms a large, spreading, natural reservoir, where many kinds of ferns are fostered. Saleh told me that Arab poets call a stream "a daughter of the hills." He led the way where he knew there were firm stepping-stones, and we splashed through water, in some parts about two feet deep, guiding our horses between masses of rock and great stone bowlders, surrounded by tall trees and water-plants. Our progress was somewhat impeded by a number of goats and cattle, which were being led to the fountain.
Just beyond this we saw, high up on the hills on our right, a picturesque-looking Moslem village, called Kefr-esh-Sheik. On the flat roofs of its white stone huts there were little Summer-houses, made of tree branches, long palm fronds, and reeds. Most of the villagers in this district make these pleasant shelters in the Summer-time. It reminded me of the Jewish Feast of Tabernacles. Busy groups were on the thrashing-floors. A man was winnowing a heap of wheat, by lifting up as much as he could at a time, and as he let it fall gradually, the wind carried away the chaff. We lingered a moment by the old stone well in the olive grove; near to it we saw a number of strong masculine-looking laughing girls. In a few minutes we came to the little village of Ain-jûr, with palm trees and flourishing gardens round it. At this point we turned away from the hills, and made our way across the fertile plain.
A serpentine line of verdure marks the course of the Kishon. We approached it where it flows between steep banks of rich loamy soil, nearly fifteen feet high, bordered with fine oleanders, wild lupins, tall and blue, and St. John's wort, covered with golden flowers. There was not much water flowing, for there had not been any rain in Galilee for a long time; but the muddy bed, which at this spot is about twenty feet broad, seemed to me as if it would swallow us up.
