ical rest. Our tree was but a little alcove in a great temple, of which the full proportions — walls and columns and domes — were in the mighty amphitheatre of the hills. Here we were in a deep valley, surrounded by mountains; while above us towered Serbal, like Mont Blanc above the Vale of Chamouni. Never did I realize before the full meaning, as well as beauty, of the words, "The mountains bring peace"; they are so great and strong, standing fast forever, that they preach peace to mortals vexed with petty cares. That peace encompassed us round to-day. We seemed to be in a place of prayer; and though there was no sound of the church-going bell to awaken these solitudes, yet we had found a sanctuary in which we could worship as truly as beneath the swelling dome or in the long-drawn aisle. Here we could sit and read our Bibles, and worship God.
We had not indeed forgotten this worship on any day of the week. Making a little family, we never forgot the blessed institution of family prayers. This it was not always possible to observe in our tent; but after we had begun the day's march, we found by the wayside "the shadow of a great rock," or some other quiet nook, where we could stop to read our Bibles. Dr. Post had always in his pocket his Arabic Bible, which is said to be very much like the Hebrew, from which he read the account of the wanderings of the Israelites in the wilderness. It was quite natural that an Eastern book, translated into an Eastern language, should preserve a certain couleur locale — a reflection not only of the natural scenery amid which, but of the manners and customs of the people among whom and by whom, it was written — not always retained in our Western version; and I found that the Bible so read and translated into English for my benefit, had a freshness and beauty which I had not perceived before. The story of
