"I enjoy you," he said, smiling. "Yes, child, I enjoy it; only
I don't enjoy such villainous roads."
"But then, papa, you know it is the only possible way the road
can go, and always has been; and so we are sure that Christ
was here many a time. Here, papa, where our feet are
treading."
Papa looked at me and said nothing.
The way was so pleasant, that we walked on ahead of our mules,
till we came to the spring about a mile from Bethany. It was
strange to look at the water pouring out its never failing
stream, and to remember it had been doing just so ever since
nineteen hundred years ago.
"How often travellers have rested here and drunk of the water,
papa; how often Christ was here."
"That arch was not over the spring in those days, though,"
said papa.
But papa stood and looked at the spring and at the ravine, and
I saw that he was catching something of my feeling. We mounted
there, and the rest of the way we had no more talk. I did not
want to talk. There was too much to think about, as we wound
down the rough valleys or watercourses among the desolate
hills; while the air grew constantly warmer as we got lower.
No trees, no life, no vine terraces; and this was the way to
Jericho. At the ruined khan, a good distance from the top, we
dismounted and stopped to rest and take our lunch.
"Well, Daisy," said papa, "are you enjoying yet?"
"Every minute, papa."
"I am very glad. But I am very tired."
"Papa, you must take a good rest here; and here is an orange
for you. I will give you something else directly."
Papa stretched himself out wearily on the stones.
"What is the source of your pleasure just now, Daisy? It is as
barren a landscape as ever I traversed."
"Papa, David went this way when he fled from Absalom."
"Humph!" said papa, as if there were not much pleasure in that
association.
"And Jesus and His apostles came this way, up from Jericho; up
and down, I suppose, many a time; they have rested here,
papa."
"And I see, Daisy, you love the ground where those feet have
trod. I never could understand it before. I fancy, I could
never attain power of realisation to get near enough to the
subject."
"Do you now, papa?"
"Hardly. By sympathy with you, Daisy."
"A little below, papa, we shall come to the Valley of Achor,
where Achan was stoned."
"I don't know that story, Daisy. You may read it to me."
We had a long reading and resting there by the ruined khan.
Papa was ready to listen and talk; and I saw that so long as
we were in Palestine he would read the Bible as much as I
liked. Then we made the rest of our way. I knew he could not
but be interested with that. The scenery became so wild and
grand as to satisfy even him. We got the glorious view of the
plains of Jericho from the top of the steep descent, and stood
still for some time to look. Papa said it was a noble view;
but to me it was so full of the riches of association that I
could hardly feast upon it enough. Down there, Jericho of old
had stood and fallen; when the priests and the people of
Israel compassed it about with trumpets of victory. There, or
over against it, the Jordan had been divided to let the people
pass over. In later days Elijah and Elisha had gone over
single-handed. Down on that plain had stood Herod's Jericho,
which Christ had gone through time and again; where Zaccheus
climbed the tree to see Him, and Bartimeus sitting by the
wayside had cried out for his mercy and got it. What was there
before me in all that scene that did not tell of the power of
faith - of the grace of God - of the safety and strength of
His children - of the powerlessness of their enemies. My heart
sang hymns and chanted psalms of rejoicing, while my little
Syrian pony stood still with me at the top of the pass of
Adummim. I even forgot papa.