Partially shutting my eyes and presenting my rear to the enemy, I crawled backwards down the giddy steps, and just at an uncomfortable corner came upon a jet-black man in a sort of priestly garb, who turned out to be an Abyssinian hermit. He has no connection with the establishment I had been visiting, having his own cell and his own church all to himself. His bosom was stuffed with manuscripts in Ethiopian characters. Under any other circumstances I would have endeavored to converse with so rare a specimen of ecclesiastical humanity; but how can a man engage in a theological discussion in an unknown tongue, hanging between earth and heaven on six inches of slippery rock? I felt rather inclined to say _vade retro Satanas_—not an inappropriate remark, considering the mountain I was on; and yet the poor man meant well, and, indeed, gave me an arm. He does not stick to his perch, however, like the old raven I had been visiting above, but usually resides in Jerusalem, visiting his cave during the forty days of Lent and at other stated periods. We now determined to bid adieu to Jericho and the Mount of the Temptation and to strike across country into Samaria. This would take us over an unbeaten track and show us a country very imperfectly known. We trusted to finding our way by asking it, or by picking up local guides when we were utterly at a loss. By this means, although one runs a considerable risk of being benighted, or of having to scramble over almost impracticable mountain paths, you get a better chance of stumbling upon objects of interest than by following a more trodden route. For more than two miles we skirted in a northeasterly direction the base of the lofty cliffs of the Jebel Quarantul. On our right a copious steam, which has its rise in a fountain called Ain Duk, irrigated an extensive tract of land, which was green and well cultivated. If there had only been population enough to develop it properly it would be a most productive region. There were all the evidences that in ancient times its resources were not thus neglected. Everywhere the remains of stone watercourses and aqueducts were visible, one bridge in particular having no fewer than three tiers of arches one above another. The construction was ingenious and peculiar. At the bottom or narrowest part of the ravine which it spanned was one huge pointed arch. Immediately over this were four pointed arches, while at the side of them was a fifth, double the height of the others, the foundations of which were in the steep side of the ravine. Above these again were six more pointed arches which supported the aqueduct. Thus there were altogether twelve arches, and of these only two were the same size. The old Roman masonry of which they were composed was still in a very good state of preservation. Near this aqueduct were also the substantial remains of an old Roman road.