I presume there are but few of you who have not heard of “Bethlehem of Judea.” It is spoken of as “Ephrath,” and is known to be the birthplace of David and Christ. We left Jerusalem by the Jaffa Gate, a party of eighteen, and every one mounted upon the back of a horse. Our company consisted of two Australians, seven Englishmen, two Germans, one Scotchman, and six Americans. Eight of the number were women. Not one of the party was under the age of thirty-five years. You will see that none of us were children. My experience in horseback riding was quite limited, therefore I did poorly. The rest were good riders because they had experience. We got along pretty well, and the practice of that day prepared us all for the many days of hard riding which followed. The desire to be upon my feet, rather than upon the back of a horse, was never quite overcome. Our horses seldom got out of a walk, because of the poor condition of the roads. Fast riding in Palestine is very seldom engaged in, and as a rule horses have their own way, regulating their gait to suit themselves. A number of people were on the road, walking and riding donkeys. The animals were so small that when the riders’ feet hung down they touched the ground, which sight amused us greatly. Our English sidesaddles were quite a novelty to them, and they scarcely raised their eyes higher than where the saddles were located. In their minds the Arabs were probably comparing the neatness of our saddles to the clumsy looking things used by them. Bethlehem is about six miles from Jerusalem, and those six miles seemed very long ones to us, for the road was hard to travel. The country was extremely stony, and we wondered how grain could find soil in which to sprout. Fields were passed from which enough stones had been picked to make a fence which was, perhaps, one mile in length and wide enough for several horsemen to ride abreast upon it. Before reaching Bethlehem a shower of rain came up and the guide took us into the tomb of Rachel for shelter. The tomb was well filled with Arab men and women who had gone there before us, and when we all appeared before them they scattered at a lively rate. Getting close to a party of Christians would no doubt have made them very uncomfortable, so they preferred to vacate. Many, many years ago Jacob and Rachel were making a journey to Bethlehem, and when but a short distance from the city “Rachel died, and was buried in the way to Ephrath, which is Bethlehem. And Jacob set a pillar upon her grave: that is the pillar of Rachel’s grave unto this day.” Long, long ago the pillar which had been set up by Jacob disappeared; but in its place stands a small white building with a dome. It is by the roadside, and everybody looks upon it as marking the last resting place of Jacob’s beloved wife. It is known all around as “Rachel’s Tomb,” and it was into this tomb that we were taken to escape the falling rain. [Illustration: _Rachel’s Tomb by the Roadside._]