his fellow-historians for our data. In the face of the cliffs on each side, reached by lofty stone stairways, tier above tier, are vast caverns cut from the rock, with their open doorways towards the valley, and protected by walls. They were the homes of robbers in the time of Herod Antipas; the refuge of the persecuted Jew and the brave Crusader in more modern days. Now they harbor the "wild birds of the air," which fly out and then back again to "their nest" as we approach; and here too "the foxes have holes."

Caves, graves, and other signs of former habitation abound in this historical valley. Ruins of towns, often surrounded by fortresses, are

to them by the lips of Jesus. The cool stillness of the morning should be chosen for the visit to this spot. A few clouds may lie sleeping in the valley of El-Hamam then, and the thickets by the pathway may scatter their store of dew upon you if you touch them. As the breeze increases and the light penetrates, the dew-drops creep down the stalks to the ground; like the summer waves of the sea, rising and receding, always gently, the grain bends beneath the winds. As soothing as balm is the soft, warm breath of the pure air, laden with the perfume of blossoms and falling upon the brow like a benediction. Yet, upon this very plain, more than once, the roar of battle

here, all constructed by the Saracens or by those who came long before that time. The district is full of places which,have long been held sacred by the Jews.

We now approach the spot which is looked upon by many as the place where Jesus sat when "teaching the multitudes " who followed him. "Kurûn Hattîn "- the "Horns of Hattin"-are upon the mountain-ridge followed in journeying from Safed to the Sea of Galilee. Below them is a wide plateau where the assembled multitude could have been seated while listening to the Sermon on the Mount when the sweetness of the Beatitudes was revealed

The two "Horns" of Hattîn seem to have been protected by massive structures. The approach to the higher one is easy from one side, while to the north-east there is a sheer ascent of over seven hundred feet. The white limestone hills, the basaltic cliffs, the modern village of Hattîn in the plain below, the orange groves and the fruit gardens, the waving grain, the varied families of flowers, and the groups of Druse farmers present pictures at every glance.

In many spots upon the plain the traveler

in the sun, is the sacred sea. Yet only the north-east corner of the water is discerned, for the mountains of Bashan and Gilead hide the view with their sun-scorching inclines and long shadows.

The mountains of the Hauran on the east and the Jaulân on the south are visible. When the air is clear, the silver serpentine line of the Jordan may be made out, gleaming through the foliage-creeping through the jungle down to the Dead Sea. If there be one word which fell from the

Divine Teacher that impresses the mind more than any other at this place, it is " Peace," for there is so much here to suggest it. Nature moves on in her luxuriant course, peacefully, calmly, with no discord. The freshness of the morning, the repose of noonday, the golden tints and purple shadows of evening, the reflections of the stars on the bright surface of the sea, all bring in continued succession the messages of peace.

Much more is this so now than when Jesus dwelt at Capernaum. The city of his adoption is in ruins. On the sea to-day sails no boat with a deck upon

S he reined in his horse, the provost said, "Colonel, I 've some prisoners down there who asked to see the old man."

By the kindly though disrespectful appellation of "old man," the provost indicated the general commanding the division; the colonel addressed was Edgar Vernaff, his chief of staff; the place of meeting, the woods of North Carolina; and the time, not long after the surrender of the Southern army.

At this moment an orderly bearing a note directed to the general reined up his horse. The chief of staff opened it and read:

"Hon. James Algier presents his compliments to the general commanding United States forces, and requests an immediate interview. Mr. Algier is at present under arrest of the provost guard."

"Who is this Algier?" asked the chief. "He is a man who arrested himself this morning. Captain Bryant told me to say that he did not think it of any account, if the general was busy. Captain thinks the man is crazy."

"Very well. Say to Captain Bryant I will be along in a little while, and then we 'll see what the man wants."

The sun was sinking through the trees when Vernaff, accompanied by the provost, made his way through the woods to a spring, where

they found two country wagons drawn up, and protected by a detail from the guard.

An elderly man advanced from the fire, and in a stilted way began:

"Sir, have I the honor to address the general commanding this division of the Federal army?"

"I am chief of staff," answered Vernaff. "Any communication you have to make, I will receive in the general's name." ·

"Sir," replied the old man, "I am not habituated to dealing with subordinates; I demand an immediate interview with the officer in command."

Vernaff flushed at this rebuff, then smiled at the pompous manner of the man. Though hurt for an instant by the disdainful speech, he was too good-tempered to take deep offense, so he answered: "General Brown cannot see you to-night; maybe he will find time in the morning, but I will not promise even that. you have anything important to say, I am proper person to hear it."

If

the

"I have the honor to represent the twentyfourth district of the State of Alabama in the Congress of the Confederate States, and I repeat my demand for an interview with your superior."

"Captain Bryant, you will withdraw your guard. This gentleman is free to go when he sees fit. We have prisoners enough to take care of without bagging the whole rebel Congress.'

"But I refuse to be released, sir."

"I hardly see how you can help yourself," said Vernaff.

"Sir," returned the man angrily, "I have heard of the impudence of the Northern soldiery, and gave credit for all the evil of which the whole world accuses them, but this surpasses my wildest conception."

"Call in your guard. Whether he will or not, this gentleman is free." Then addressing the man, he touched his cap and wished him "Good-night." But this politeness seemed to inflame the rage of the self-made prisoner, who burst out: "I defy you to withdraw your guard, and leave me and my family unprotected from your brutal hirelings."

"If you ask for a safe-guard," said the colonel coolly," that is another thing, and I will consider your request when you have time to speak with a little more politeness. You are not a prisoner, and we take no responsibility about you in any way; but I have no doubt that if you move up near Captain Bryant's camp he will see that you come to no harm." "In my day and country," replied Algier, we were taught respect for our elders, but it seems that this is not a part of Northern education. Sir, I am by the fortunes of war thrown

VOL. XXXV.-27.

into your power, and in the name of the Confederate States I demand the consideration which is my due."

"I do not recognize any Confederate States," said Vernaff; "and the consideration which is your due?—I don't think you would be willing I should pay you what I think that is. And for the rest, my time is of some value, so I will go on my way."

The guard had already left. The dusk had risen up under the trees, though the open places were still flooded with light. The sweet, cool smell of the swamp flowers, the murmurous silence, so strange after the turmoil of camp, flowed over the rider and softened his mood. True, the old man was a representative of the class most offensive to the Northern mind, and Vernaff was a New Englander of the new school, cool and without enthusiasm; yet at heart he was a strong partisan, and the loud vaporings of the Southerner grated upon his nerves.

Scarcely had he turned his face, when a new person entered into the conversation. Close beside him some one said: "Pardon my father. We are all alone here, far from home, and are starving. We have hardly eaten for three days."

The voice was very low and sweet, and the articulation of the words slow, and muffled by a slight lingering upon the vowel sounds. If it had been a male voice, the prolongation of the syllables would have suggested a drawl, and the distinct pauses between the words indicated indifference; but so liquid were the intonations, so sweetly constrained the pronunciation, that at first he did not comprehend that the appeal was a cry for help; and so rare and pure was the cadence, that when it ceased he continued to listen, and the echoes sank deep into his heart — it was like a cool hand upon a fevered brow.

He was disappointed when on looking down his eyes encountered the face of his petitioner. She who stood beside him was a young girl, clothed in garments draggled to the knees with yellow mud and torn in a hundred places. Her head and shoulders were covered with a dirty black and green shawl drawn tightly together under her chin. Her face was too long, her nose too large, and her mouth too full; through the grime and soot which lay in ridges under her eyes it was impossible to guess at her complexion, though the tear-courses had striped this envelope, and their channels showed white by contrast against the surrounding blackness. But the clear brown eyes which were turned on his face were piteously beautiful. There was nothing vulgar or bold about the face, and through all the misery there was a suspicion of mockery-shamed amusement at her uncouth appearance, as well as a wild desperation at