Having prepared the way of the Messiah in Judea, and to accommodate the multitudes of the north, and prepare them for the reception of the promised Christ, John ascended the river to the mouth of the Jabbok, where he baptized the inhabitants of Samaria; and ascending thirty miles farther, to the ruined bridge of Semakh, he baptized the people of Galilee. His mission accomplished in Southern, Central, and Northern Palestine, and compelled to leave the Jordan at that season of the year to seek water suitable to drink, John removed to the fountains of Ænon, eight Roman miles southeast from Scythopolis, where there was “much water,” and where he baptized “strangers,” and those who had failed to attend his ministry at the river. His latter days were spent in the north, and mostly in Tiberias, the royal city of Galilee, where, true to his high calling, he reproved Herod Antipas for his connubial infidelity, for which he was imprisoned and beheaded in the Castle of Machaerus, near the scene of his earlier labors. The sun was rapidly approaching the zenith when we left the ford for the Dead Sea. To avoid a detour, and also to shun the banks of the river, which, from their softness and steepness, are never safe, we crossed diagonally the great plain extending to the sea. The heat was intense; not a breath of air was stirring; neither shrub nor flower appeared to gladden the eye; no fountain was nigh to moisten our parched lips. A deep purple haze veiled earth and sky, obscuring the view of Moab and the peaks of Engedi; and over that vast plateau of unrelieved desolation was spread a white sulphurous crust, reflecting the light and heat. Near the mouth of the Jordan a band of Bedouin ruffians were holding an ominous consultation, and keenly watching our movements. From the head of the caravan came the shrill voice of the sheikh to “close ranks,” while two soldiers dashed into the jungle to ascertain the design of the council. Intimidating the robbers by threats, they returned, assuring us that no attack would be made, but advising us to keep close together. At noon we stood upon the northern shore of the Dead Sea. Owing to the thick haze that obscured the mountains, it seemed shoreless. The smooth waters lay like molten silver, silent and motionless, sparkling in the sunlight and dazzling to the sight. It was death robed in light. The waters are clear as crystal and exceedingly brilliant, and, though intensely salt, they are so soft that a bath in them is like bathing in oil. When midway my person I began to rise, and yielding to the soft hands that bore me up, I reclined as upon the softest down. To sink was impossible; to float required no effort; to read, converse, sleep, was easy. Where the cuticle was bruised or broken a smarting sensation was experienced, and for ten hours after the bath the hair remained stiff and the body felt as if it had been lubricated with oil. Gently sloping toward the sea,