German orphanage poorly equipped for school work. The girls of twelve nationalities with most excellent _ésprit de corps_ were studying there; the principal, a real educator, formerly head of the girls’ school at Beirut had wise, far-seeing plans for the future of the school and, through it, for the welfare of the city. As I listened to them I wished that my purse were well filled that I might make some of them possible now in the day of crisis when the whole future of Palestine is in the making. Surely there are new paths through old Palestine. When we again entered the city through the Jaffa Gate it seemed centuries older than when we had left it, so great was the contrast between the air, sunshine, and breathing spaces outside the walls and the narrow, dark, and crowded little cobble-stoned alleys, shared by man and beast, where no full ray of sun ever shines. Only the flat roofs of the houses save the people within the city from life in a semi-dungeon. It was this plunge back into the city of age-old days and deeds that made us long the more to walk leisurely to Bethany and so, on Saturday night, we told Jamil we should not need him until Monday morning at nine. We left the city just after noon on Sunday by St. Stephen’s Gate, stopping reverently for a few moments close by the steep hillside to think of the brave words of the young martyr as he looked into the hard faces of his accusers and his wonderful address, recalling to them each step of their history and the reason for each great defeat. We remembered the daring words: “Which of the prophets have not your fathers persecuted? and they have slain them which showed before of the coming of the Just One; of whom you have been now the betrayers and murderers: who have received the law by the disposition of angels, and have not kept it.” In fierce anger they ground their teeth and hissed their reproaches at him. But he did not even see them. Suddenly, looking up to heaven, they heard him saying, “Behold, I see the heavens opened and the Son of Man on the right hand of God.” It was enough. Seizing him, they rushed him through the narrow street and cast him out of the city. They laid their garments at the feet of a keen young man named Saul, who watched with approval as they hurled down upon their helpless, suffering victim the jagged stones of the hillside. But above the noise of their mutterings of revenge the young man Saul heard the words of prayer: “Lord Jesus, receive my spirit.” And again, “Lord, lay not their sin to their charge.” And Stephen died—but Saul never forgot.