kindreds of mankind. If that first telegraph-pole had been
"The mast of some great admiral,"
or a flagstaff, bearing proudly the banner of my country, it could not have sent a keener thrill through my heart. It was the sign that we were coming home: that we were no more strangers and pilgrims, or even exiles, but fellowcitizens in the great commonwealth of humanity, which by this token seemed to open its arms and receive us to its bosom.
At the entrance of Gaza is an open space, which is the usual camping-ground of parties, where we left word for the baggage-train to halt and pitch our tents, while we went forward into the town. As we came to the narrow streets, hardly wide enough for the camels, we dismounted, and leaving them to the men, pushed forward in search of the telegraph office. Following the poles, we soon found where the wires led into a building. It was a strange sensation, in coming out of the desert, to be in such an office, and hear the click of the telegraph again. Dr. Post found in the operator a former pupil at Beirut, who received him with great warmth, and took a personal interest in hastening our messages. It was but a few minutes before his family were informed of his safety. The dragoman also sent a message to Jaffa to have horses and mules sent down to take us to Jerusalem, for the days of our camel-riding were over. Then came my turn: "How long will it take to get a message to Florence?" "We can send it in either of two ways — by Constantinople, in which case it will reach Florence some time this afternoon; or by Alexandria, from which it will go by submarine cable, and be subject to no detention, and ought to arrive at the longest within an hour; but a message by this route costs double that by Constantinople." "Never mind the cost;
