I READ in my Bible that a certain man went down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell among thieves. When this announcement was made, I am sure that every ear was all attention, for the people naturally expected some startling revelation to follow. And why? Because the way was then, and is now, lined with thieves, insomuch that it would be impossible, to-day for any Frank (Arabs call white men Franks) to go unprotected from Jerusalem to Jericho without falling among thieves. This danger is recognized to such an extent that the government (the Turkish government of course) keeps a garrison of Turkish soldiers in Jerusalem, whose sole business is to conduct tourists to Jericho, to the Jordan, and over into Arabia. And the tourist is compelled to employ these government guards. Oh well, you are not legally bound, but if you go on this trip without these extra guards, and are killed on the way, you are not allowed to sue the government. But if you take the guards, and are killed, after you are buried you may sue the government twice, if you like. I am not easily frightened, myself, but I took the guards on Johnson’s account, for I saw plainly he did not want to die here. I honestly believe that it would almost kill Johnson to die anywhere! So with four government guards, all well-equipped with broad-swords, bowie-knives, and javelins, and all splendidly mounted, we start off for an Eastern trip. As we cross the Mount of Olives, a sacred feeling comes over us, for we know that every foot of this road was once familiar to our Divine Lord. It was here He prayed in the garden. It was here He was betrayed with a kiss. It was on this Mountain He cursed the fruitless fig-tree. It was from here, also, that He beheld and wept over the sinful city. Passing over the brow of Olivet, we come, on its eastern slope, to that sweet little village where Jesus often spent the night. Here He wept with the sisters who wept, and raised the brother who was dead. Ah! blessed household was that where Mary and Martha and Lazarus lived. Blessed household is that to-day, whose spiritual atmosphere is attractive to the Son of God. Oh, what a joyous time there must have been with those two sisters and their brother—“when the Lord to Bethany came!” Darkness fled at His approach. The shadows lifted when He came. O gentle reader, make your home a Bethany, and Jesus, who forsook the city for a quiet, country village, will take up His abode with you! He will weep with you when you weep. He will revive your hopes when they are buried. [Illustration: MOUNT OF OLIVES.]