When I opened my eyes, low over the hills against the blackness of the sky the star was still shining. I GO DOWN TO JERICHO “_He passed by on the other side._” _That ‘other side’ is trodden smooth And worn by footsteps passing all the day; Where lie the bruised ones faint and torn Is seldom more than an untrodden way. Our selfish hearts are for our feet the guide, They lead us by upon the other side._ —_Author Unknown._ I GO DOWN TO JERICHO An interested group surrounded us that morning at nine o’clock as the car which was to take us down to the Dead Sea and the Jordan drew up to the door of the hotel. I call it a car by courtesy. It had seen hard service. It had a battered running board, a mudguard with many dents, a front seat bending in the middle to the breaking point, no windshield and no horn. We protested, but our guide said it was the best that could be had. “It is the engine that is important,” he said, “the engine and the brake both are good. As for the horn, no fear—he is a horn with his mouth.” He was a most successful human horn as we found when we passed through the gate into the traffic outside the wall. Our guide was not an enthusiast on the subject of motor vehicles. As we swept around the hairpin curves he was restless. “The Arab is not the temperament for a driver of cars,” he said seriously, “he is the temperament for a horse.” And again after a pause, “It is well to go to Jericho in a carriage. The inn near Elijah’s Spring is a good place for a rest, and three days—it is a good time for the trip.”