How the pilgrims abused each other!  Each said it was the other’s fault, and each in turn denied it.  No word was spoken by the sinners—­even the mildest sarcasm might have been dangerous at such a time.  Sinners that have been kept down and had examples held up to them, and suffered frequent lectures, and been so put upon in a moral way and in the matter of going slow and being serious and bottling up slang, and so crowded in regard to the matter of being proper and always and forever behaving, that their lives have become a burden to them, would not lag behind pilgrims at such a time as this, and wink furtively, and be joyful, and commit other such crimes—­because it would not occur to them to do it.  Otherwise they would.  But they did do it, though—­and it did them a world of good to hear the pilgrims abuse each other, too.  We took an unworthy satisfaction in seeing them fall out, now and then, because it showed that they were only poor human people like us, after all.

So we all rode down to Magdala, while the gnashing of teeth waxed and waned by turns, and harsh words troubled the holy calm of Galilee.

Lest any man think I mean to be ill-natured when I talk about our pilgrims as I have been talking, I wish to say in all sincerity that I do not.  I would not listen to lectures from men I did not like and could not respect; and none of these can say I ever took their lectures unkindly, or was restive under the infliction, or failed to try to profit by what they said to me.  They are better men than I am; I can say that honestly; they are good friends of mine, too—­and besides, if they did not wish to be stirred up occasionally in print, why in the mischief did they travel with me?  They knew me.  They knew my liberal way—­that I like to give and take—­when it is for me to give and other people to take.  When one of them threatened to leave me in Damascus when I had the cholera, he had no real idea of doing it—­I know his passionate nature and the good impulses that underlie it.  And did I not overhear Church, another pilgrim, say he did not care who went or who staid, he would stand by me till I walked out of Damascus on my own feet or was carried out in a coffin, if it was a year?  And do I not include Church every time I abuse the pilgrims—­and would I be likely to speak ill-naturedly of him?  I wish to stir them up and make them healthy; that is all.

We had left Capernaum behind us.  It was only a shapeless ruin.  It bore no semblance to a town, and had nothing about it to suggest that it had ever been a town.  But all desolate and unpeopled as it was, it was illustrious ground.  From it sprang that tree of Christianity whose broad arms overshadow so many distant lands to-day.  After Christ was tempted of the devil in the desert, he came here and began his teachings; and during the three or four years he lived afterward, this place was his home almost altogether.  He began to heal the sick, and his fame soon spread so widely