When Joseph was dying he prophesied that exodus of the Israelites from Egypt which occurred four hundred years afterwards.  At the same time he exacted of his people an oath that when they journeyed to the land of Canaan they would bear his bones with them and bury them in the ancient inheritance of his fathers.  The oath was kept.  “And the bones of Joseph, which the children of Israel brought up out of Egypt, buried they in Shechem, in a parcel of ground which Jacob bought of the sons of Hamor the father of Shechem for a hundred pieces of silver.”

Few tombs on earth command the veneration of so many races and men of divers creeds as this of Joseph.  “Samaritan and Jew, Moslem and Christian alike, revere it, and honor it with their visits.  The tomb of Joseph, the dutiful son, the affectionate, forgiving brother, the virtuous man, the wise Prince and ruler.  Egypt felt his influence—­the world knows his history.”

In this same “parcel of ground” which Jacob bought of the sons of Hamor for a hundred pieces of silver, is Jacob’s celebrated well.  It is cut in the solid rock, and is nine feet square and ninety feet deep.  The name of this unpretending hole in the ground, which one might pass by and take no notice of, is as familiar as household words to even the children and the peasants of many a far-off country.  It is more famous than the Parthenon; it is older than the Pyramids.

It was by this well that Jesus sat and talked with a woman of that strange, antiquated Samaritan community I have been speaking of, and told her of the mysterious water of life.  As descendants of old English nobles still cherish in the traditions of their houses how that this king or that king tarried a day with some favored ancestor three hundred years ago, no doubt the descendants of the woman of Samaria, living there in Shechem, still refer with pardonable vanity to this conversation of their ancestor, held some little time gone by, with the Messiah of the Christians.  It is not likely that they undervalue a distinction such as this.  Samaritan nature is human nature, and human nature remembers contact with the illustrious, always.

For an offense done to the family honor, the sons of Jacob exterminated all Shechem once.

We left Jacob’s Well and traveled till eight in the evening, but rather slowly, for we had been in the saddle nineteen hours, and the horses were cruelly tired.  We got so far ahead of the tents that we had to camp in an Arab village, and sleep on the ground.  We could have slept in the largest of the houses; but there were some little drawbacks:  it was populous with vermin, it had a dirt floor, it was in no respect cleanly, and there was a family of goats in the only bedroom, and two donkeys in the parlor.  Outside there were no inconveniences, except that the dusky, ragged, earnest-eyed villagers of both sexes and all ages grouped themselves on their haunches all around us, and discussed us and criticised us with noisy tongues till midnight.  We did not mind the noise, being tired, but, doubtless, the reader is aware that it is almost an impossible thing to go to sleep when you know that people are looking at you.  We went to bed at ten, and got up again at two and started once more.  Thus are people persecuted by dragomen, whose sole ambition in life is to get ahead of each other.