A memorable experience was in the neighborhood of a large village whose gardens are said to be watered by three hundred springs. Whatever the correct number may be, there is no question about the abundance of water and the luxuriance of the gardens. We had three tents, one for medical clinics and one apiece for our two households, and settled down for a fortnight's work. Every day we had crowds about the tent for medical attention and for religious services. The evenings gave abundant opportunity for work among those who gathered about us after their day's work was done. They were glad to join in the hymns of praise, and listened earnestly to the spoken message and read word. One evening, the boys who gathered about the tent told me that the superintendent of their school was in town and had begun an examination, to be finished the next day. I decided to go to the school the next morning to make the acquaintance of the superintendent and to see what the school was doing. When I arose the following day, I found many of the boys about the tent, and asked them why they were not at school for the examination. "Oh," they said, "there is no examination to-day. Early this morning, the superintendent, the teachers and the headman of the village took their horses, a large bottle of spirits and a young kid, and went up to the top of the mountain to a famous spring to spend the day in a drinking spree." One of the pleasantest evenings I remember in my regular routine touring was spent in this same village. We had brought our party to a garden, owned by one of our friends who was always glad to have us make it our headquarters. We had eaten our supper and were seated on the ground, under a high, branching tree into which was trained a huge grapevine. Behind us was a little hut, in which the caretaker slept in stormy weather. At one side was a rude booth where the owner slept during the summer. An oil lantern gave some light. One by one quite a group of neighbors and friends assembled and, after some general conversation, we sang some hymns. Then I opened the Bible for a little reading, with simple exposition. As I read and talked to them, the row of dark faces was turned toward me with an intentness and eagerness to hear that made me hope they might not see me or hear my words, but hear those words of life spoken so many years ago in Palestine, and see that Face from which alone shines the true light.