As soon as we get out of the door, Johnson, with his characteristic sense of humor, touched me in the side and said: “Chestnuts! Chestnuts!!” At this moment a short, heavy-built, broad-shouldered, bushy-headed Greek monk, wearing a hat whose broad, board-like brim was at the top of the crown instead of the bottom, comes up to us. He introduces himself, and after a few words says: “Now, gentlemen, please come with me. I have something of very great interest to show you.” He leads us into, and conducts us through, the Greek convent, reciting and explaining the history of the village as we go along. He shows us into a large room whose walls are lined with pictures. The Greek pauses, uncovers his head, strikes an attitude; sorrow seizes his soul, a heavenly look settles on his troubled face. With noiseless step and slow, he approaches us and whispers: “The wedding that we read about in the Bible occurred in this very room. Yes, gentlemen, this is a sacred place—this is where the marriage was solemnized. Christ, with His Mother and disciples, stood on the left, the other guests on the right. The wedding couple stood there in the centre, and the Greek priest who married them stood here.” Johnson is dumb as an oyster. But I have to speak—I can hold in no longer. I say: “Did Jesus attend two weddings in this place?” “No, sir; only one, sir, only one!” “Well,” I continue, “I was a few minutes ago in the Latin convent and the Romish priest told me that the wedding took place there, and now you tell me that it occurred here. How about that, sir; how can you explain this?” “The explanation, the explanation, sir, is very easy. It is simply this: the other priest lied! Yes, sir, he lied—only one wedding here, and that one took place in this room. And here are the identical water-pots that He used—these are the very jars that held the water which was turned into wine.”