Shechem, or Nablus, is one of the oldest towns in history. It was founded long before Jerusalem was built and even before Jacob’s time. It is within about six miles of the city of Samaria, where Ahab had his ivory palace and where Herod the Great owned a royal mansion. Here, so it is said, he gave that birthday party at which his stepdaughter Salome danced. You remember the story. Her dancing, which I doubt not was that of the nautch girl, so delighted King Herod that he told her she should have whatever she asked, even to the half of his kingdom. She thereupon, as her mother insisted, demanded the head of John the Baptist, who was lying in prison near by, and this bloody gift was brought in on a great plate or charger. There is a Spanish legend that Salome, as divine punishment for causing the murder of John the Baptist, was herself beheaded some years later. According to the story, she married a Roman general and went to live in Spain. While skating on a river there she fell in, and her body is said to have struck the edge of the ice with such force as to sever her neck, and her head went skidding over the frozen surface. The old town of Samaria has long since fallen to ruin. Its site is a mound with some broken pillars and other débris lying near it and an olive orchard not far away in which more of the columns are still to be seen. As for Nablus, it thrives, and is one of the liveliest towns in the Holy Land. It is the chief commercial centre between Damascus and Jerusalem, and its population of thirty thousand is almost entirely Mohammedan. There are some Jewish merchants, but neither Jews nor Christians are much welcomed. I have been told to watch out as I go through its narrow, filthy streets and to take care not to provoke any one. Several times the boys have thrown stones at our party, and men spit as we pass them. People yell out “Nazarenes” at us, and my guide refuses to let me photograph them, saying picture-taking would surely get us into trouble. The city is so fanatical that even the Christian women go about with veils over their faces. The English nurse who is working here in the Charity Hospital is veiled like a Mohammedan when she goes out on the street. Otherwise she would cause much comment, and her reputation and work would be ruined. CHAPTER XX FARMING IN THE LAND OF MILK AND HONEY I give you to-day some bits of Palestine out of doors. Within the past few weeks, keeping away from the cities and towns, I have watched the shepherds and farmers. I have seen the real Palestine, with the same sky, the same rocks and hills, and the same carpet of wild flowers as in the days of our Lord. I have talked with the farmers in the fields, have ridden side by side with the modern Balaam as he climbed the hills on his ass, and have even put my hand to ploughs such as were used in the times of the Scriptures, and with a goad have pricked on the bullocks and donkeys as they turned up the sod.