The railway between Joppa and Jerusalem is to be regretted, but fortunately it is a small affair.  There are rumors of commercial enterprises which, if successful, would change the appearance of many of the towns.  Fortunately they are not likely to be successful, at least in our day.  The brooding spirit of the East can be trusted to defend itself against the innovating West.  For the present, at least, Palestine is a fascinating country to travel in.

A traveler in Ceylon and India writes to a religious paper of his journey.  He says, “Colombo has little to interest the tourist, yet it is a fine city.”  One who reads between the lines understands that the fact that it is a fine city is the cause of its uninterestingness.  His impression of Madura was more satisfactory.  There one can see the Juggernaut car drawn through the streets by a thousand men, though it is reluctantly admitted that the self-immolation of fanatics under the wheels is no longer allowed.  “The Shiva temple at Madura is the more interesting as its towers are ornamented with six thousand idols.”

The writer who rejoiced at the sight of six thousand idols in Madura, would have been shocked at the exhibition of a single crucifix in his meeting-house at home.

I confess that I have not been able to overcome the Tory prejudice in favor of vested interests in historical places.  If one has traveled to see “the old paths which wicked men have trodden,” it is a disappointment to find that they are not there.  I had such an experience in Capri.  We had wandered through the vineyards and up the steep, rocky way to the Villa of Tiberius.  On the top of the cliff are the ruins of the pleasure-house which the Emperor in his wicked old age built for himself.  Was there ever a greater contrast between an earthly paradise and abounding sinfulness?  Here, indeed, was “spiritual wickedness in high places.”  The marvelously blue sea and all the glories of the Bay of Naples ought to have made Tiberius a better man; but apparently they didn’t.  We were prepared for the thrilling moment when we were led to the edge of the cliff, and told to look down.  Here was the very place where Tiberius amused himself by throwing his slaves into the sea to feed the fishes.  Cruel old monster!  But it was a long time ago.  Time had marvelously softened the atrocity of the act, and heightened its picturesque character.  If Tiberius must exhibit his colossal inhumanity, could he have anywhere in all the world chosen a better spot?  Just think of his coming to this island and, on this high cliff above the azure sea, building this palace!  And then to think of him on a night when the moon was full, and the nightingales were singing, coming out and hurling a shuddering slave into the abyss!

When we returned to the hotel, our friend the Professor, who had made a study of the subject, informed us that it was all a mistake.  The stories of the wicked doings of Tiberius in Capri were malicious slanders.  The Emperor was an elderly invalid living in dignified retirement.  As for the slaves, we might set our minds at rest in regard to them.  If any of them fell over the cliff it was pure accident.  We must give up the idea that the invalid Emperor pushed them off.