But if you would see the beauty—the poetry of Galilee, wait until the glare of day has mellowed into twilight; wait until a holy calm broods over the lake and its surface has been transformed into a silver mirror. Then the great stars above you gleam like nuggets of gold in the blue depths below. Now go “silently and alone” and walk on the beach. You find that distance is annihilated. The lake may be six, sixty, or six hundred miles wide—you can not tell—you do not care. You are not thinking of time or distance, either. The beauty of the scene rivets your attention. Sacred memories crowd upon the mind, and you can but say: “Oh! Galilee! Galilee! For thousands of years have thy pure waters been surging against these historic shores—these sacred shores. Upon thy watery surface Jesus did walk, as though it had been marble pavement. When the storm did come and thou wert lashed into rage and fury, when thy waves were tossed like mountains to the sky; when the frail bark was threatened, and human life endangered; the Son of God whispered: ‘Peace, be still.’ The winds obeyed Him and thy waves, O Galilee, crouched at His feet. For these reasons thou hast become a holy—a sacred sea. “And now I, even I, a humble disciple of that same Jesus, am permitted to walk on thy shores and sail on thy waters.” Being unable to break the chain of fascination which binds us to this place, we have remained here several days. Swimming in Galilee is truly delightful. We have had several messes of fish from the lake, but as yet we have caught no fish with a “silver coin in his mouth.” Tiberias, the only place of importance on the lake, we find to be a walled city of some 5,000 souls, the most of whom are Jews. We find much in the city to attract our attention, but nothing to excite admiration. The Jews living here are a reproach to their race. They are as sorry looking specimens of humanity as one can reasonably expect to find this side of the grave. They are as filthy as monkeys, ugly as gorillas and as poor as Job’s turkey. Extravagant expressions are usually out of place, but I am honestly of the opinion that these people are as poor as a church mouse or a Baptist preacher. Most of our time here has been spent, not in Tiberias, but in visiting the mouth of Jordan and some ruined cities around the lake, in sailing, swimming and fishing, in reading the Bible and talking of Christ, its central figure. CHAPTER XXX. FROM THE SEA OF GALILEE TO NAZARETH.