I think the owner of this prize had a wrong opinion about him.  He had an idea that he was one of those fiery, untamed steeds, but he is not of that character.  I know the Arab had this idea, because when he brought the horse out for inspection in Beirout, he kept jerking at the bridle and shouting in Arabic, “Ho! will you?  Do you want to run away, you ferocious beast, and break your neck?” when all the time the horse was not doing anything in the world, and only looked like he wanted to lean up against something and think.  Whenever he is not shying at things, or reaching after a fly, he wants to do that yet.  How it would surprise his owner to know this.

We have been in a historical section of country all day.  At noon we camped three hours and took luncheon at Mekseh, near the junction of the Lebanon Mountains and the Jebel el Kuneiyiseh, and looked down into the immense, level, garden-like Valley of Lebanon.  To-night we are camping near the same valley, and have a very wide sweep of it in view.  We can see the long, whale-backed ridge of Mount Hermon projecting above the eastern hills.  The “dews of Hermon” are falling upon us now, and the tents are almost soaked with them.

Over the way from us, and higher up the valley, we can discern, through the glasses, the faint outlines of the wonderful ruins of Baalbec, the supposed Baal-Gad of Scripture.  Joshua, and another person, were the two spies who were sent into this land of Canaan by the children of Israel to report upon its character—­I mean they were the spies who reported favorably.  They took back with them some specimens of the grapes of this country, and in the children’s picture-books they are always represented as bearing one monstrous bunch swung to a pole between them, a respectable load for a pack-train.  The Sunday-school books exaggerated it a little.  The grapes are most excellent to this day, but the bunches are not as large as those in the pictures.  I was surprised and hurt when I saw them, because those colossal bunches of grapes were one of my most cherished juvenile traditions.

Joshua reported favorably, and the children of Israel journeyed on, with Moses at the head of the general government, and Joshua in command of the army of six hundred thousand fighting men.  Of women and children and civilians there was a countless swarm.  Of all that mighty host, none but the two faithful spies ever lived to set their feet in the Promised Land.  They and their descendants wandered forty years in the desert, and then Moses, the gifted warrior, poet, statesman and philosopher, went up into Pisgah and met his mysterious fate.  Where he was buried no man knows —­for

          “* * * no man dug that sepulchre,
          And no man saw it e’er
—­ For the Sons of God upturned the sod
          And laid the dead man there!”