mounted and rode southward, pausing under the trees on the brow of the hill. Looking toward Jerusalem we saw a large party of Bashi-Bazûks galloping up the hill and entering the city gates. The sun was going down. In a few minutes afterward we heard shouts and songs of triumph, and a troop of armed villagers made their appearance. There were about one hundred, and they marched in irregular order along the winding, rocky path just below us, close to Siloam. My brother said, "That is the little army which was sent forth by Siloam to take part in the fight up here."
As we returned to El Tûr, we were overtaken by a bright-looking peasant boy, singing lustily. He was riding on a little black donkey, which came leaping and dancing along as if he were as merry as his rider. The boy stopped his song and the donkey immediately stood still, as if it were an understood arrangement. We found they were pausing by the side of a well, and I also waited there to let my horse drink from the stone trough close by. An old man had just filled it from a goatskin. The boy told us that there had been a hard fight over the hill that day, and added, "Five souls were killed." However, it turned out that two of these souls were horses. We stopped in the village to speak to the old sheikh of the mosque. He said, "Good-night, and God's blessing be upon you, O my daughter!" I answered, "A hundred good-nights to you, O my father!" The moon was shining brightly when we reached the tower.
On the 18th of July I went into town to stay at the late Rev. J. Nicolayson's for a few days, that I might take leave of all my friends in Jerusalem and make preparations for starting for Hâifa. When all was in readiness, my tent was pitched at the Talibîyeh, where Mr. Finn had encamped again. Mr. Graham was on the eve of departure for England, much to the regret of the Jewish converts and even of the most steadfast Jews of Jerusalem, to whom he had shown unfailing kindness. Mrs. Finn and her coadju-
