This recalls forcibly to my mind the occasions when in our travels in the late summer we would stand at the parting of two roads and wonder which one to take. The opinion of the more experienced men in the party, that the spring of water on one of those roads was likely to be dry in that season of the year, always turned our steps in the other direction. In that thirsty land such a possibility could not be safely ignored. In those long summer days, when the mouth of the traveler on the dusty roads of Syria "turns bitter from the thirst," the arrival {249} at a spring which had "failed" is almost a tragic experience. Hence it is that the "springs of water" are one of the precious promises of the Bible, and their failure was one of the fearful threats. It was indeed a call to his disciples to make the great renunciation when Jesus sent them out to preach the glad tidings of the kingdom which was "at hand," with the command, "Provide neither gold, nor silver, nor brass in your purses, nor scrip for your journey, neither two coats, neither shoes, nor yet staves."[3] So far as the comforts and protection that earthly things can give, those disciples were sent out perfectly helpless. The Master's programme for those disciples is just the antithesis of that which an ordinary Oriental traveler follows. No traveler in the interior of Syria ever starts out on a journey, be it short or long, without _zad_. True, Syrian generosity to a wayfarer is to be depended upon, but the traditions of the country are that self-respect requires that a {250} traveler shall provide himself with _zad_, and shall accept hospitality only as a last resort. The best etiquette requires that when a traveler is invited to another's table, he should take out his _zad_ and place it before him. The host, on the other hand, positively refuses to allow his chance guest to eat of his own _zad_. The host removes the _zad_ from the table, and either adds to it and gives it to the guest upon his departure or gives him a new _zad_. Without scrip, the traveler seems to himself to be utterly a dependent, a beggar, and not a guest.