Samaria is a small, dirty village now, and hedges of cactus surround it. Ruins seem to tell the story of the grandeur of former years, as we read that “Samaria shall become desolate: for she hath rebelled against her God.” The city had been built by a king whose name was Omri, who reigned over Israel twelve years; then he died and was buried in Samaria. Omri was a very bad man and his wickedness was worse than that of the kings who had ruled before him. He had a son whose name was Ahab, and for twenty-two years he ruled Israel. Having had a bad example set him by his father, and being no doubt wicked by nature, it was not hard for Ahab to go on in wickedness; so he “reared an altar for Baal in the house of Baal, which was in Samaria.” You see the city was the seat of idol worship, and a good place to do mission work; so Philip undertook the task and preached Christ to them, and the people “all gave heed, from the least to the greatest.” There was not time for a lengthy stay at Samaria, so we journeyed on. Olive groves, fig orchards and almond trees were seen over the valley and the hillside, with here and there barley fields. Noon drew near, and we stopped at a place supposed to be Gibeah, and there we ate lunch, in a fine old olive grove whose trees were a protection for us; and for two hours we rested, sheltered from the hot sun. We left Gibeah, and rode on into a broad valley. A mountain was seen far away to the north, and they called it Mount Hermon. With the aid of our field glass snow was seen upon it, and an Australian lady of the party seemed glad to know there was a possibility of getting where snow really was, for, said she, “I never saw snow in my life.” Dothan was in the distance, too, and you know that is the place where Joseph went to seek his brethren, and where they sold him to the company of Ishmaelites. Everywhere you look the eye falls upon places which are familiar to the Bible reader. There in view were the mountains of Gilboa where Saul and Jonathan were slain, and there, too, was Mount Carmel, the home of the prophet. We descended a steep, rocky road into a valley again, and passed a Bedouin camp on the way. Only a short time passed when we were made to rejoice at the sight of our tents, the only home we had. A twenty-eight mile ride in one day was a tiresome piece of work, and when we rode into camp and saw the tents it was truly a beautiful sight.