We are now stopped for luncheon at a Kahn, or inn, half way from Jerusalem to Jericho, about eleven miles from either place. Once more I read in my Bible that a certain man went down from Jerusalem to Jericho and fell among thieves. The thieves beat the man, dragged him out to one side of the road, and left him for dead. But the Good Samaritan came along, took the poor Jew who had been beaten, put him on his donkey and carried him to an inn, and paid the inn-keeper to take care of him. Now, reader, what will you think when I tell you that I suppose I am stopping at the same inn where the Good Samaritan left the unfortunate Jew? Let me take you into my confidence and tell you why I think so. The road from Jerusalem to Jericho is the same now that it was 2,000 years ago. We know this from the remains of the old Roman aqueduct along the roadside. There is only one fountain on this road, and that one is close by this Kahn. I take it that every Kahn, or hotel, must, of necessity, be built near some fountain. Now if the road was the same in our Lord’s time as it is to-day, and if then, as now, there was only one fountain on the way, and if the inn, or Kahn, spoken of in the Bible was built by a fountain, then we are forced to the conclusion that it was near the spring from which we have just drunk. [Illustration: A BEDOUIN.] Be this as it may, we can not tarry here; we must continue our eastward journey. About an hour after leaving the inn of Good Samaritan fame, we see several half-naked, ill-favored, hard-featured, cadaverous-looking Bedouins on the hillsides near the road. They are Brigands, highwaymen, and their very appearance is enough to make a civilized man shudder. They are wearing sandals. Their legs are wrapped with straw and bark of trees, which is tied on with rawhide strings. They have coarse, filthy clothes loosely drawn around the lower part of their bodies. Their arms and breasts and chins and cheeks are tattooed in figures of eagles and serpents and wild beasts. They are tall, lean, swarthy, snuff-colored, grim-visaged, wrinkled-browed, shaggy-haired, and fiery-eyed. Around each one is a leathern girdle, looped here and there with gay colored ribbons or rags. Each belt holds a bowie-knife and two horse-pistols, and supports a broad-sword suspended from it. In one hand the Brigand holds a javelin, while the other grasps a long, single-barreled, flint-and-steel shot-gun. They live in the clefts of the rocks—in the dens and caves of the earth, and the cave-scent clings to them still.