Syria from the saddle . peeches, all moreor less notable for bad delivery and good patriotism,were made. So the day closed pleasantly, if in a some-what incongruous style. Ruins of a Roman Watch-tower. CHAPTER XXVIII. VALLEY OF THE KEDRON—EN ROUTE FOR JERICHO — RAVENS OR ARABS. WAS rain-held in Jerusalem for thenext week. The Syrian rains, after amomentary pause, had recommenced,bearing with them a chill and damp-ness that found its way through thethickest clothes. David and I wandered about in thedaytime seeing churches, excavations,antiquities, etc.; in the evenings Iplayed billiards with th
Syria from the saddle . peeches, all moreor less notable for bad delivery and good patriotism,were made. So the day closed pleasantly, if in a some-what incongruous style. Ruins of a Roman Watch-tower. CHAPTER XXVIII. VALLEY OF THE KEDRON—EN ROUTE FOR JERICHO — RAVENS OR ARABS. WAS rain-held in Jerusalem for thenext week. The Syrian rains, after amomentary pause, had recommenced,bearing with them a chill and damp-ness that found its way through thethickest clothes. David and I wandered about in thedaytime seeing churches, excavations,antiquities, etc.; in the evenings Iplayed billiards with the Consul in thehotel billiard-room. It was not an un-pleasant week for me, but, in the midst of a country Iwas anxious to see, I grew tired of life in the city andlonged for the saddle, the camp, and Massoud. I calledon the little horse once or twice in his stable, and,though he always received me gladly, there was a gentlemeekness in his manner that foretold a lively time whenhe should be once more on the road. 259. 260 SYRIA FROM THE SADDLE. One night the skies cleared, and a northwest windsprang up. The next morning was fine and we started,bag and baggage, for Jericho. We left Jerusalem by theJaffa gate and rode through the Valley of Jehoshaphat;stopping on our way to inspect the Pool of David had told me we should pass the Pool thatmorning I recalled the lines of the old hymn: — By cool Siloams shady rillHow fair the lily sweet the breath beneath the hillOf Sharons dewy rose. I had already seen the Rose of Sharon — a weedwhose blossom is not unlike that of a dried wild , I thought, Siloam might be more like the hymnol-ogists idea. Perhaps it may have been more so in thetime of Christ; but not now. A rocky, barren valley, with a leper settlement onthe hillside above it, forms the Siloam of to-day. ThePool is about fifty by twenty feet in area, and is quiteshallow. The water is sluggish and dirty, black slimecovering the bottom and si
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