Kath's Travel to the Holy Land

We have just arrived in Nice a little dizzy in the head, not from the effects of the flight, but from walking round London for approximately six hours, between 11 p.m. and 5 o'clock this morning. The station at Victoria proved far less hospitable than we had anticipated. George Tidd and I had hoped to leave our luggage there and relax in some comfortable seats until it was time to take the train for Gatwick Airport; but we arrived to see the left-luggage officer riding home on his bicycle. The lugubrious waiting room was soon cleared by the police and closed down about midnight. We found a tiny cafeteria near the station where we obtained scalding hot soup and delicious bacon sandwiches with mustard. We explored part of Chelsea looking for somewhere to sleep, but without success; and eventually returned to Victoria to find the station securely caged in like some kind of private menagerie, but with ghosts instead of animals walking around inside it.

At about 1.30 a.m. we asked a police constable to guide us in our search for a hotel. He did guide us and successfully too, but when we encountered the night porter he asserted that a bed for 4 hours each was going to cost us £4. He made an alternative suggestion relative to his private residence when we expressed surprise at the arbitrary reply to our state of need. The whole situation was summed up by us equivocal if not dishonest, and we decided to follow some other course of investigation. We were fortunate; we paid a taxi driver 5/6d to take us to Charing Cross. He directed us to an all-night barbecue in Leicester Square, and, as we were on our way thither, a young man in a car, apparently a newspaper reporter from Fleet Street found us struggling with the baggage in the road and gave us a lift all the way. There we were hospitably entertained with refreshment and sentimental music and left at 3.30 a.m. Ingenuity led us to explore the routes for night bus stopping points. From one of those in Regent Street we took a ride to Aldgate, and after a brief session with an early morning news-vendor we took a bus from there back to Charing Cross.

The main line station was now open and we rested in the waiting room in company with sundry other vagrants until we perceived that Trafalgar Square underground station was open. From there we made a quick passage to Victoria. After battling with the exquisitely primitive toilet arrangements we decided to try No. 144 barrier and board the train for Gatwick. There we found ourselves in a new world of cleanliness and efficiency. We even found hot running water for shaving. We met the other 35 members of our pilgrimage and after quite a long wait for a mysterious Miss Williamson, who failed to arrive from Scotland, when we had all been ready and waiting for one hour, it was decided to proceed with the journey. So we boarded zzt TRADAIR G APOO, a Channel Islands Air Liner bound, as our luggage labels intimidated, for Nice and the Middle East - which brings us to this spot of halcyon Mediterranean sunshine where these comments are being penned.

We have brought delightful coloured views of Nice and had a stroll around the airport admiring the air traffic and the scenery. We are even now sitting behind a magnificent clump, of cacti that stands between us and the distant view of sea and sky across the runways of the airport.

The flight from Nice to Brindisi afforded more views; during the first half of the trip we were over the sea and enveloped in mist. It was a contrast to the magnificent scenery of the Alpes Basses over which we bumped daring the latter part of the flight from Gatwick to Nice. We enjoyed a further view of mountainous country as we crossed southern Italy on the approach to Brindisi. It seemed to be desolate, brown and very sparsely populated. We saw no signs of life anywhere throughout the flight, with the exception of a ship moving in the English Channel, a boat on a river in the South of France, a motorcar pursuing its lonely track along a road in southern Italy. We are no doubt too high to distinguish clearly such small objects as motorcars and men, but it was remarkable that with these few exceptions nothing seemed to move in the pictures below us. We are travelling at 200 miles an hour and usually at 9,000 ft. altitude. The last lap from Brindisi to Athens we made in the dark. During this passage we were served with an unexpected meal. We had already had a mid-morning drink, a good lunch, tea and biscuits at 3 p.m., afternoon tea at 4 p.m. and now this surprise packet of chicken, beef, ham, vegetables, sweet, cheese and an apple! We were expecting to have dinner at the Acropole Palace Hotel in Athens, and wondered what would become of our appetites. Some among us who were philosophers ate what we could and packed in our bags what was capable of being preserved. Others, who were naturally decent and discerning, refused the meal in view of promises to come. They were the unlucky ones as we shall see.

Brindisi airport was evidently very new - I called it Casabianca which seemed to describe it. We arrived there at about 6 p.m., our time, in an unforgettable blaze of solar glory who sun rapidly sinking towards the horizon in a magnificent flaming memorial of his absolute necessity to the human race: as though he rejoiced in the unique power that he held over us. By the time we had stepped down from the aircraft the sun had almost vanished. We approached Casabianca which looked as though it might have been built last week. There were no labels on any doors and it was advisable to look and listen before you opened one. Extraordinary wine bottles were on view but no postcards. One of our party made a tentative request for picture cards at the bar, whereupon the bartender produced some. They were not very picturesque views but served as mementoes of the visit at a price of 2/- with stamp and 1/- without stamp, so we brought a few without stamps. This seemed to be the general price for postcards at the places we visited, though we bought an excellent set of 10 for 5/0d in Athens and a dozen colour transparencies for 15/-. The visit to Athens was memorable. We arrived at 10 p.m. by Athens time and were accommodated with rooms in the hotel within 2 hours. Passport clearance at the airport occupied one of these hours and even then we had to leave documents in the hands of immigration official. A chartered bus carried us about 5 miles to Acropole Palace Hotel where we had been booked. On arrival we found that a party that stayed there last night was staying one more night and we were send off to a Hotel named after Princess Alice. Though not so sumptuous as the Acropole it was very clean and spacious. The time was now 12 o'clock and there was no food available, which reveals my dark assertion made a little earlier that distinguished the decent people from the philosophers. The philosophers went to bed without having to suffer the pangs of hunger, but not without some helpful concern for their less fortunate brothers and sisters.

I am writing these notes at the Airport. That is to say, I am dictating them and George is taking them down in shorthand. The whole of our party and a number of other passengers, mainly Greek; I think, are sitting about waiting for planes. Some are buying things at the shops, others are talking and sometimes talking to us. Conditions are never very convenient for writing up the Journal. He must take such opportunities as we can.

We got up this morning at 7 o'clock and went into breakfast consisting of fossilized bread and watery jam with coffee or tea if you could get it. We realised, of course, that breakfast is not a meal outside England, and cheerfully assembled for our visit to the Acropolis at 8.30 a.m. This visit was unique in the experience of a lifetime. It cost us only 50 drachma each, which was 12/6d. We had a Greek girl for guide who conducted us up Mars Hill where our Leader read St. Paul's sermon from Acts 17. Greek photographers were around to snap up a splendid opportunity for trade and took numerous pictures which were later sold to us at 5/- each, and we considered the price a rare bargain. The Areopagus where Paul preached is quite close to the Acropolis, the high city. This high city in the days of the Greeks' Golden Age was dedicated entirely to the gods. No-one lived there but only the gods. Their statues, some of them colossal, adorned the temples in those days. We were conducted through the magnificent remains of those temples, their Doric and Ionic columns still standing after 2,500 years. We saw the Propylaea, the temple of Athena Niki, the temple of Athena, the largest of the temples which dominated the rock, and the Erechtheion with the caryatids still standing.

The unique feature of this hill was the excavation of the Mycenaean Palace of the-2nd millennium B.C. We were informed that the queen had lived there. The columns of all these magnificent ruins gleaned brilliantly in the sharp sunlight and a fresh wind was blowing through them. After spending a marvellous hour in the temples we descended the precipitous steps to the foot of the hill that led to the theatre of Dionysus. Headless statues still adorned the rear of the stage and tiers of seats rose in the hillside around it. Some seats shaped beautifully in the stone still bore the names and titles of priests and kings who used them, and had been standing there since 400 B.C. We had views of breathless beauty extending for miles over the vast city of Athens and the Aegean Sea, and the mountains of the north were ranged magnificently in the distance.

The coach then took us back to the airfield where we expected to board our plane for Israel. On arrival we were told to wait for information; the plane was expected at any moment. Confirmation of this promise revealed, however, that the plane that should have taken us was apparently already in Jordan, and we were to welt zzt indefinitely until some other arrangements for our transport could on made. Whether the plane had flown to Jordan empty or had never been chartered at all will probably remain a mystery, but we drove back 5 miles or so to the Hotel Acropole where after consultation a meal was arranged for us.

The hall porter told me that the meals of this hotel were renowned. The hotel was certainly magnificent; but when the meal arrived we could hardly see any justification for the boast. It consisted of a piece of omelette, a rissole with mashed potatoes and an orange grown in Greece! I wandered whether this was the standard of renown on which the hall porter based his premise. I do not think it woo. There were signs that other guests were regaled with a meal of a very different order - ours was evidently a snack; but we enjoyed it and drank lukewarm coffee of a good flavour in one of the sumptuous lounges afterwards.

I am reminded of Mr. Pickwick's description of the streets of Rochester when I think of the streets of this city. They also reek of tobacco, but mildly, with the pleasing odour of Turkish cigarettes. The smell of fresh cement mingles with it in places where new building is going on, and other musk-like odours blend with them in the soft air that wafts through the public thoroughfare. It is remarkable to notice how very much new building there is in this wonderful city renowned for its numerous relics of the classical age; many of them being built in imitation of that style. A standing example is the new university building. Many of the hotels seem to be either newly built or recently renovated. The National Archaeological Museum opposite the Acropole Palace Hotel is a fine building and its galleries afford plentiful of space for further acquisitions.

We spent the afternoon visiting locally because we were on call at short notice for possible embarkation at the airport. We learnt during one of our reports at headquarters that we should certainly be staying the night so George Tidd and I decided to investigate along Odos Octovriou 28 at the end of which I had glimpsed the fluted columns of a temple. I imagined that we were in actual View of the Parthenon but could hardly believe that it was so since our coach tour had taken us so long to reach it in the morning. At the end of Odos Octovriou 28 I noticed an open space which looked like an archaeological excavation. On entering we found it to be the library of Hadrian. We saw two young men sitting on one of the stones in conversation, so I approached them and said KALHEMERA! They immediately rose and s eke to us in Greek. I did not understand what they said but attempted to ask them for information about the site. In voluble Greek one young men gave no to understand that it was the Emperor Hadrian's library in the days of the Roman occupation in the 1st century A.D. and had been bombed by Mr. Hitler - a comment which he made with much feeling. I thanked him and then asked whether the hill close by was the Acropolis, to which he replied in the affirmative and so vindicated my anticipation. We walked towards it and found that we were shortly entering a magnificent Roman Agora. We walked back to the hotel in about 15 minutes, surprised that we had been sleeping like the ancient Greeks almost in the shadow of the temples of the gods.

During our short tour this afternoon we looked into many shops, bought a few trifles, including a Greek newspaper called Ethnos; saw many icons on sale and went into two fine Greek Orthodox churches, one of them proclaiming in Greek over the facade "Worship God in the Congregation" When we returned to the Acropole Palace Hotel we were informed that we should be leaving tomorrow morning at 8 o'clock. The whole would be spent in travelling to Tiberias. This is a pity because tomorrow will be Good Friday which we had hoped to spend quietly in Israel.

After dinner the Manager of the Hotel Acropole took us up on to the roof from which we saw a wonderful view of Athens at night. The extent of the city seemed incredible. A million lights splattered the country among the hills and towards the sea. The air was cool, but far from chilly. The Manger explained that the roof garden was much in use during the summer months, and gave an engaging account of the pleasures of a holiday in Athens. He spoke English fluently with that slight accent which adds so much charm to our language when it in spoken by an educated foreigner. He seemed concerned that we should have enjoyed our visit, and, remembering the very fine dinner that had just been served, we were able to say with complete conviction what we thought of it. It would indeed have been a pity to have cause to say anything different for he was so friendly and so dignified and so charming that his manner alone would have been enough to convince us that we had been highly privileged to enjoy his hospitality. I think he was a very successful man of business. Three of us went for a walk after this visit to the roof garden, and found our way to one of the underground railway stations. Here we fell into conversation with a young Greek who approached us as we were admiring the trains, and asked if he could be of any help. His English was excellent and his manner warm and friendly as though he had known us for a long time. This friendliness seems to be a characteristic of people in Athens. It is a pleasant city for human contacts. Conversation, as he said, among the inhabitants was mainly about politics, football and money – one thought we were a long way from Socrates. We were interested to hear that he was a Christian, and Mr. Moore, who is a Christian of no denomination explained enthusiastically why, and gave him a little booklet, whereupon our new friend commented that it had been issued by the Plymouth Brethren and translated into Greek. We thought that this was a brilliant retort to the gesture. So we returned to Princess Alice Hotel and left the busy streets with their single decker buses, their gentle perfumes, the pony carts laden with oranges, the policemen in gleaming helmets reminiscent of the heroes and white bandoleers like St. John's Ambulance men; and walked along the street dedicated to the 28th October which we understand was one of the days celebrating the proud independent spirit of the Greeks. He spent out lent drachma on lemonade, and want to bed at 10 p.m. with instructions to rise by 6 o'clock next morning in order to be ready for the negligible breakfast at 6.30 and to prepare for the long wait at the airport - an indispensable characteristic of the organisation of our pilgrimage! I find that zzt the was of Orientours are indeed very oriental, but that is probably not entirely the fault of the management.

We arose at 6 o'clock and at 7.15, after having taken a suitably light breakfast, we boarded the coach for the Airport. We unloaded there and began our long wait for 9 o'clock, the time scheduled for our departure. After passports had been re-distributed, and we were hoping that news would be coming of our embarkation orders, we were served with forms to be filled in similar to those which were issued before our arrival at the Airport. Athens seems so be a little curious over the arrival and departure of her visitors. We filled in these forms and they were then collected with our passports! We began to wonder how much further delay this was going to mean when the unexpected happened: we were told to assemble for embarkation - but not without the passports surely! Suddenly the pile of passports reappeared and were thrust into the hands of our Leader with instructions to distribute them on the plane, so we walked across to our Overseas No. G-AGRP

We took off about 9.20, and were courteously informed by our Hostess that we should be calling at Cyprus about 12.20 p.m. and that luncheon would be served before arrival. Shortly afterwards she brought us on orange drink and biscuits as though she knew that we must be very hungry. She had thoughtfully enquired of George what time we had been called and how we had breakfasted. This kind hospitality is delightful to record.

The flight was one of extraordinary interest, and the scenery of great beauty. We passed Naxos and many other islands in the Aegean Sea, and during the latter part of the flight had wonderful views of the snow covered mountains of Turkey. We followed this main coastline for many miles until we must have been opposite Perga in Pamphylia; We felt that we had a bird's eye view of some of the country that St. Paul must have travelled. The islands were almost uninhabited, and even Cyprus itself when we began to passover it seemed to be an immense track of deserted hilly country with a few towns and smell settlements long distances apart. At 12.20 p.m. we alighted on the airfield at Nicosia, and were soon engaged in a short service of meditation in the Airport building: so we felt that in spite of conditions the day had received some slight acknowledgement of its place in the Christian life.

We travelled from Cyprus above the clouds that rose up in places like huge icebergs out of the billowing white mist. Within an hour we saw a straight white line of sandy coast in the haze towards the East, and knew that this was Israel. The Holy Land lay under a clouded sky and there was not a flash of sunlight to greet our first view of it. We came within sight of Tel-Aviv, and circled round towards the airfield lying 7 miles behind it. As we touched down we were greeted with the characteristic words of the New Israel – "Welcome to Lod Airport." We were very speedily passed through the immigration formalities. One officer apologised for the delay which was perhaps less than l/10th of that endured at Athens. The immigration officers sat at their desks careful to avoid stamping our passports by request of our Leader, so that we should be able to enter Jordan later without the embarrassment of having so blatantly come from Israel! A little boy in a red pullover sat at one desk helping his father! It was another sign of the New Israel, learning quickly, developing rapidly, and above all with the human friendly touch. Our coach was waiting outside the airport, which by the way, seems to be the newest of the new airports we had passed through, though it was not actually a new one, but had been extensively renovated, to take us on our last 100 miles by road to Tiberias. Most of this journey was achieved by a young Jehu who drove us swiftly in the remaining hours of daylight. We were taken through the Maritime plain, the least picturesque part of the country, but the most productive, and by the plain of Sharon until we turned North East through the hills to Samaria and Lower Galilee. Signs of the progressive nature of this new State were very evident to my mind in the efficient clearing of the land of stones, and, as our Guide informed us, of swamps. Eucalyptus trees had been imported and plentifully distributed about the country for this purpose. We saw enormous orange groves, acacias and cypress trees, sugar beet and banana plantations; areas of afforestation and collective farms. All these were signs of the rapid progress of the New Israel State. They were not Biblical pictures, they were pictures of modern progress in agriculture, but we were rewarded with glimpses of just those pictures that would have greeted visitors to Palestine 2,000 years ago: the hills terraced and revealing the outcrop of white atone, an occasional Arab village, its square flat roofed little houses huddled together on the hillside and lighted dimly by tiny lamps. We passed through several towns of modern cement buildings colour washed like so many in India. Finally, in the distance below we saw the lights of Tiberias. The old town clusters round the Lake as when Herod Antipas built it, the new town straddles the hillside. It is Passover time but the full moon only occasionally breaks through the clouds that covered the Holy Land on our arrival. Approaching the lights of Tiberias we make the steep descent below sea level to the dark stretch of "The most sacred sheet of water in the world", all still and silent; the dim ghosts of hills on the Eastern side dotted here and there with the lights of little Syrian villages.

Our long journey ended at the Scottish Hospice where our rooms were allocated and we soon sat down to dinner. A talk from Merom after dinner gave us a few instructions about the places we were going to visit, end the precautions we should take in buying souvenirs. Mr. McCarthy led a short meditation: our Pilgrimage had now begun.

I rose at 7 o'clock and walked down to the Lake of Galilee before breakfast. The Scottish Hospice is situated on the lakeside, as the ground rises steeply from the water. Its gardens are terraced, there are lawns of coarse stringy grass, date palms and eucalyptus trees, and the area is pervaded by the sweet scent of bougainvillea. I walked through the main gateway and reached the water's edge by taking one of the short streets which terminated in a restaurant to the right, advertising air conditioned rooms and having the usual outside stone staircase leading to the roof.

The front was deserted. There is a short water front here extending e few hundred yards, built specially for visitors to Tiberias. Next to the restaurant on the water front I noticed a place of entertainment announcing that Aaron Cohen would be Singing to his guitar, and at the further end of the water front I saw an announcement in Greek over a monastery of the Orthodox Church. A pony was grazing among the tall weeds and wild flowers that grow in profusion everywhere at this time of the year.

Here was the sacred sheet of water in day-light. The waves lagged restlessly along the stone sea wall and the gulls were crying just above the surface of the water. There was not a human being in sight. The hills on the Syrian side were still indistinct in the mist. I thought of the little boat going over to that far shore which would take Jesus and his disciples away from the crowds for a brief respite in those happy, busy, sunny days of his early Galilean ministry.

I returned to the Hospice by another street. The buildings are for the main part modern, the rest are decayed and dilapidated. In some houses families made their homes in the habitable portions while the rest was tumbling down. In many parts of Tiberias people seem to have built their homes out of the ruins of Crusader fortifications and to have used them as long as they would stand, gradually retreating from the debris into new buildings, so giving the town a very curious aspect of the 20th century mingled indiscriminately with the Middle Ages.

A sparrow muted on my hand as I walked across a piece of waste land and rubble, between the two streets, and I thought of Tobit and the cause of his opthalmia. These first few moments of my acquaintance with Tiberias, a town that Jesus himself never visited, because Jews would not live in a place which Herod Antipas had built over an ancient burying ground for fear of ceremonial defilement, brought vivid recollections of Bible incidents, and plunged me into a completely new world in spite of Aaron Cohen and the air conditioned rooms of the Lido.

Arrangements had been made to take our Party by coach to visit the sites on the North Side of the Lake, most particularly associated with our Lord's ministry in Galileo. There are no towns or villages remaining on the Galilean side of the Lake except Tiberias, which is a winter resort for visitors to this country. Our journey led us through banana groves and tomato plantations, past Safed, "A city on the hill that cannot be hid", said to be one of the most beautiful settlements in this country and renowned both for the worst defeat of the Crusaders by Saladin and the School of Rabbis which has been settled there since the 16th Century.

We saw a pipe line under construction, intended for Gennesaret, "The Garden" after which the Lake derives one of its names. A mixed flock of sheep and goats was moving up one of the hillsides, and we thought of the parable of judgment, and our Guide remarked that the goats are the biggest enemy to cultivation in this Country, which accentuates the appropriateness of the parable. He told us that the Government of Israel were gradually persuading the resident Arab population to give up goat rearing in favour of sheep. We had another lovely view of cows, said to be Arab cows, moving in a long line directly over a steep hill, and another charming view of a Jewish girl tending a small group of cows drinking at the lakeside. The cow which seemed to be the leader was adorned with a bell.

One of the most beautiful sights of all was the profusion of wild flowers seen almost everywhere - yellow, mauve, red, pink, blue and white. The Israelis had even planted rows of bamboo to protect the banana trees from wind.

Our first call was at the exquisite Church of the Beatitudes, with the famous Hospice higher up the hill behind it. Here on the steps by the side of the Church our Leader read the first part of St. Matthew, Chapter 5, as we sat looking down on the blue waters of the Lake. The day had begun with bright sunshine, and remained sunny. We went inside the Church and found it beautiful and full of interest. There was a golden mosaic dome, a mosaic floor, designed to represent the cardinal and theological virtues; the windows presented the Beatitudes in Latin, and the wells of this round Church were adorned with pictures of the Stations of the Cross. Six candles stood on the alter which was canopied by an arc with the Dove at the apex. We stood awhile in the garden of the Hospice, which was loud with the chatter of sparrows.

From there we went on to Capernaum, our Lord's home during the days of the ministry in Galileo. All that remains now is the ruin of a 2nd century Synagogue. We approached it through the grounds of a Franciscan Monastery and were greeted in French by one of the Friars. The site of the Synagogue is full of interest; much of the Synagogue is still standing. At the entrance stood two huge stone basins which would contain water for purification. Many of the stones were carved with symbolic Jewish fruits or with the Star of David and the Lion of Judah. Remains of the staircase by which the women ascended to the upper storey led to the atone doorway above. We read from St, Matthew, Chapter 9 on a grassy plot among the stone pillars and concluded with the Aaronic blessing from Numbers 6/22. Now and then a black lizard would dart away among the stones after a furtive glance at the proceedings. Beside the Synagogue we saw an Olive Press and a Mill Stone for grinding wheat. our Guide opened his Bible and read the passage in St. Matthew 18.6. This place was undoubtedly one of the authentic spots among the many commemorations that we visited on our pilgrimage.

Some of the Chapels we saw were commemorations rather than authentic sites, and even this Synagogue would not be the one in which Our Lord himself preached but might well have been built over or near the site of that which had been given by the Roman Centurion whose servant Jesus healed. Nothing, however, of then once thriving city remains. As we went back to the coach the Franciscan Friar spoke to some of us in French assuring us of our welcome and adding that the differences which divide us were theological rather than spiritual, and that we were all one in the Master's service. He asked us to pray for him and said that he would remember as Mass.

We drove from Capernaum to the Church of the Loaves and Fishes and saw the wonderful mosaic that the German Father Tapper had discovered not many years ago. According to H.V.Morton, who stayed with him, Father Tapper had carefully covered the mosaic with sand to preserve it. He said that it dated back to the 4th century A.D. and dreamed of the time when a Church would be built over the spot. We were now inside the Church of which Father Tapper dreamed. It was a very new building, plain and bare, and not yet completed. A German Community still guards the site.

Near this Church is the most wonderful commemoration of them all - it is the Chapel of the Primacy, said to stand on the spot where Jesus appeared for the third time after his resurrection and enjoined St. Peter to feed his lambs. This beautiful little Church is built over a bare rock that stands in the sanctuary just before the altar and immediately outside is the rocky beach on which Jesus might have prepared breakfast far the 7 disciples after the miraculous draft of fishes. our Guide brought to us one of these comb fishes, called St. Peter's fish, from a local fisherman. These fish have exceptionally large mouths; they are flat with a large comb-like dorsal fin; tradition says that it was from the mouth of one of these fish that St. Peter drew the half shekel for the Temple tax. We drove back round the Lake through the fields that were clothed with a glory of which even Solomon could not boast and arrived at the Hospice at mid-day. There was about an hour until lunch time which some of us spent on the beech outside the Scottish Hospice. I enjoyed a swim in the Lake of Galilee, a privilege of which I had never dreamed. There may be nothing very special in swimming in the sea of Galilee but to some of us it must have been a joy almost without parallel, like a baptism unto a new repentance.

After lunch our Guide asked us tentatively whether we would like to visit a Jewish Collective Farm. I felt that the progress of the new Israel was a relevant part of our experience on this Pilgrimage and we all readily agreed to visit the farm. It lies at the south end of the Sea of Galilee close to its outlet in the River Jordan. Our way led us through part of the old city of Tiberias along the lakeside and past the Hot Sulphur Springs. The water from these springs is so hot that one cannot hold one's hand in it for more than a few seconds. Part of it is diverted to the Therapeutic Baths nearby, which are said to cure rheumatism, and 100 yards or so up the hillside is a very famous Jewish Rabbinical School that attracts students from many countries. A few miles further driving led us to the Collective Farm. This is the oldest of its kind celebrating its 50th anniversary this year. It is called the Kibbutz Deganya, and was founded by a voluntary association of Jews from Europe who leased the lend from Arab owners long before the inauguration of the new State of Israel. It is governed entirely by its members who have no private property and who work it on a commercial basis. It is democratic, a pure socialist community not communist. It does not work for the state, which has no control over its activities. Its members live in a community; the children are separated from their parents during working hours and join them only during the hours of leisure.

There is a large announcement at its entrance describing the way in which these early settlers defended themselves against Arab invasion. One of the Jewish boys armed with a soda water bottle containing explosive climbed on to the first enemy tank opened its turret threw the bottle inside and destroyed the whole crew, including the Captain, whereupon the rest of the tanks turned tail and fled. It was a miraculous deliverance, and the tank is still preserved as a memorial.

On the drive back our Guide taught us a little Jewish song, KERVENU SHALOM ALEICHEM, which means We bring peace to you.

We passed Bedouin tents, and our Guide humorously remarked that they were open for paying guests, and we also saw a few Arabs squatting by the Lake whom he said were tourists. Before dinner we visited two Jewish Synagogues. We approached than through squalid streets and collected a band of no less than 25 gaily dressed Jewish children, who sang and shouted and held our hands and would not be repulsed. They crowded round the Synagogue door when we arrived, but as prayers were being said we could only look through the window. We felt rather guilty about this unwarrantable intrusion, but the glimpse we had was rather disappointing. About four men seemed to be occupying the central pulpit and apparently reading in turn. The congregation of bearded men, wearing broad brimmed black hats, was very sparse, and it all looked shabby and pathetic. We wondered whether the new Israel, like the old, was mistaking its vocation, and preferring politics to true worship and witness. The second Synagogue we visited belonged to a Moroccan sect of Jews, and as no service was taking place there we went inside, children as well. It was a square building with seats all round the walls, and a large central pulpit or rostrum. Shabby books were arranged on a table upon which a white tallith appeared to have been hastily flung, more shabby books were packed in shelves, reminding us of a neglected Sunday school in some old Church building at home. The particular treasure in this building lay behind 5 velvet curtain in a cupboard which served in place of the old Ark of the Scrolls. There were two scrolls inside thin cupboard, one was modern and the other a venerable document on two heavily decorated rollers, and said to be 400 years old. It contains the whole of the books of the Old Testament, and would occupy a year in the reading according to the Jewish Lectionary. By this time the children had become so noisy that we were obliged to drive them outside in order to hear our Guide's explanations. We asked him many questions about Jewish worship to which he gave generous answers, and I wondered whether children were still taught in the Synagogues as they were in Our Lord's day. Merom, the Guide, said that they were now taught in separate schools. I remarked that I had not noticed any evidence of schools in the town, and he said that they were closed for two reasons, one because it was Passover, and the other because the teachers had gone on strike! One wondered why Merom had been so eager to take us to the Synagogues for they seemed to be so shabby, neglected and pathetic, lacking even the care and order of our poorest Churches at home that one felt that the new Israel regarded their divine vocation as one to political supremacy and industrial success rather than that of a nation chosen to receive a Messiah whom they believed was still to come. "When the son of Man cometh will he find faith on the earth" It was a little bewildering and very sad.

Our own short meditation for Easter Eve held at the Hospice after dinner that night was a striking contrast to what we had seen. Mr. McCarthy read from Acts 9, part of the story of the conversion of St. Paul, and gave a splendid challenging short address on its significance in the power of the Risen Christ to change the lives of men. Merom had asked permission to be present at this little service. We wondered what he must have thought. To us, living now again in the heart of the old story, it is always being repeated and made new in every generation; there is no possibility of misunderstanding the wonderful ways of God with men or of misreading the evidence of the record. St. Peter and St. Paul stand firmly at the head of the inexorable progress of the triumph of the Risen Saviour. Motor launches on the Lake, speed boats from the quayside on Tiberias, Aaron Cohen and the cinemas in the old town are unable to dim the glories of these everlasting hills and the vast basin of this sacred water that first saw the Messiah in all his humility and glory.

Over the hills on the Syrian side of the lake the sun is climbing in a sky almost clear of clouds; the air is breathless, the water lies shimmering in a silky smoothness, no wind stirs the palm fronds or even the showery foliage of the eucalyptus trees. It is a morning of soft tropical calm, full of intense expectancy.

In little groups the members of our company walk quietly down from the Hospice to the Kirk, the only Christian place of worship in Tiberias. We sing the Easter hymn and partake in a quiet Communion after the English order, led by Mr. McCarthy.

Miss Williamson has arrived after what must have been an eventful experience for her. I heard the news before breakfast as I was sitting with a few other pilgrims on a seat in one of the yards of the Hospice. I had no idea whom Miss Williamson was and her absence from our Party had never been a real concern for I had never been sure that such a person existed. It appears, however, that she existed in Edinburgh and had mistaken the arrangements for our assembling at the airport on Wednesday, and had turned up a day late. She was evidently determined to be a pilgrim on this occasion for she consented to pay as much for her single air passage out by B.E.A. as the whole cost of our fortnight's tour; which amounted in fact to approximately £100. I felt sorry for her plight on hearing this news, and expected to make her acquaintance within the next few days. I wondered what I should have done in similar circumstances. Evidently for Miss Williamson the pilgrimage was of such importance that it was worth paying for twice over.

At 10.30 a.m. we missed our boat for a projected trip across the lake to Ein Gev. We stood waiting for 20 minutes until another launch arrived to take us over. The delay was due to the Guide's late arrival. This visit brought us to a kibbutz on the Syrian border only 100 yards from Syrian territory. The members are engaged in agriculture, fishing and canning and boat building industries.

We walked through a picturesque avenue of date palms and came suddenly upon a large building and when we entered it we realised we were in a theatre or concert hall capable of seating 2,800 people. This hall, with acoustics renowned for their efficiency, is one of which Israeli people are very proud. Stars of world renown in the musical world perform here. There is a musical festival taking place this week.

We all sat in the auditorium and listened to our Guide's account of the development of this Collective Farm which seemed to have begun in 1948. Other visitors came in as we were there – evidently Jews from Galilee. One little child appeared with a palm loaf, which brought back to my mind the children's welcome at the Golden Gate of Jerusalem on Palm Sunday. The anticipation of the Messiah seems to be general among the Jews, but it is still complicated with political ambitions. One gathers that they believe that the Messiah is coming to vindicate them and to establish their supremacy in the world, which is very different from the Christian's idea of Christ's second coming in judgment. We walked round the outside of the building and came to a remarkable memorial at the stage end quoting Nehemiah 4.18, accompanied by a design of a sword and a spray of leaves, for this theatre was built under conditions similar to those in which Nehemiah rebuilt Jerusalem; each man having a sword in one hand and a trowel in the other. In this case it was a rifle, for the Jews were building this theatre in the face of hostile Syrians. Slit trenches, air raid shelters and barbed wire all remain there in readiness for any other outrage in the uneasy situation on the frontier.

We returned to our launch that had evidently been chartered to take us on the double journey. I sat in the prow by permission of the Captain, and had glorious views of Mount Hermon to the north, gleaming in its white covering of snow, while a milky haze seemed to hang over the lake, as the town of Tiberias came more distinctly into view.

In the evening the Minister of the Scottish Church, himself a Dutchman named Snook, talked to us in one of the rooms of the Hospice about his work. The Hospice was a fair sized hospital which was once an important part of the Mission's work. The Israeli Government allowed it to continue until about 1953 when they said "Thank you very much, we do not need you any longer since we are able to look after our own sick folk." So the Hospice remains as a friendly spot where Pilgrims may find accommodation and provides a dispensary, a reading room and a shop. The Minister maintains such contacts as he has already made, but proselyting is discontinued by agreement. I learned from what he said that only 20% of the Jews remain actively faithful to their religion, and from what we have witnessed it seems that the New Israel must be largely agnostic, not unlike the state of our own country today. Whatever the Messiah might mean to this large majority is very difficult to estimate, but the time will come when they will be dissatisfied with material advance only, and be ready to listen to the Gospel.

I rose at 6 a.m. but not in time to witness the sun rise over the Syrian hills. I stood on the roof and read the New Testament and H.V.Morton as the sun broke through the clouds in the East. Our party set out at 7 a.m. for a long drive to Nazareth and Haifa. We pass again Safed, the City on a Hill, which may have inspired bur Lord's comment on the Light of the World. It certainly has been the light of the Jewish world since the 2nd century; the Rabbis are settled there and have written the Mishna, invented the use of vowels in Hebrew and first used printing for the publication of the Holy books. It is one of the four sacred cities of the Jews.

We drove through Upper Tiberias where Herod Antipas had his palace, past Arab villages and saw a ploughman using a primitive wooden plough drawn by two donkeys. A little girl was with him, and he was smoking a cigarette. He protested volubly when some of our members attempted to take a photograph, evidently claiming payment for the privilege.

We drove into Cana, where Nathaniel came from, and walked through the cobbled streets of the rickety little town where 3,000 Christians are said to be living. We visited a rather lovely Church built over the site of our Lord's first miracle, and saw an example of one of the large water jars used by the Jews for purification.

A short drive beyond Cana brought us within sight of Nazareth, now an extensive town rambling over a hillside. The population of Nazareth is mainly Christian. Here we visited a Greek Orthodox Church of the Annunciation which was built on the old Byzantine foundations. We visited the Virgin's Grotto where Mary came to draw water, the only Grotto in the town, and heard the babbling of the spring below. It is said that Queen Helena, the mother of Constantine 1st, built a Church here in 335.

We came out of the dark interior into the brilliant sunlight where I noticed two Jewish girls with rifles! The largest church building in Nazareth is still in progress. The Franciscans, who seem to be guardians of the Holy Places the Promised Land, are building a great new Church. We saw the remains of a Crusader's Church of the 12th century built on this spot, with mosaics of part of the original Church, and a model of the new Church as it will appear on completion. The most memorable sight was the Church of St. Joseph. we went down to the crypt basin, a cistern of running water said to be 2,000 years old, and a baptistery and the cave dwelling place of The Holy Family. Some people in Nazareth still live in such caves.

We had a picnic lunch in the Balfour Forest, planted on the hillside, commanding a magnificent view of the Valley of Jezreel. This valley had been a highway for all nations and a frequent battle ground. It was the scene of the defeat of Sisera's forces by Barak, which was witnessed by Deborah from Mount Tabor on the left. We saw Little Hermon, the mountain of Gilboa beyond, the hills of Samaria ahead of us, and Carmel to the right. The land was laid out in large fields where the fresh green of young corn alternated with rectangular fields of rich brown earth.

We drove to Haifa after lunch and visited the Roman Catholic Carmelita monastery on the top of the hill. The town of Haifa is on three levels, and as we climbed to the top of the hill we had splendid views of the modern port and the alternative port built by Israel for the use of the Kingdom of Jordan awaiting the time when mere friendly relations might prevail.

The Grotto of Elisha, one of the disciples of Elijah, has been an international sanctuary for 860 years. The history of this Church follows the same pattern as those of many commemorative buildings we have seen dating back to the 4th century, being destroyed by the Persians, rebuilt by Crusaders and finally established in modern times.

Whatever happened on Mount Carmel in Old Testament days, it seems clear that there had been a stronghold of Baal worship here which has been overthrown by the religion of Israel.

We saw a delightful Christmas crib and the Museum of the Carmelites, who, though they were a Contemplative Order, had done much excavation work and up a history of the conflicting cults of faith associated with this prominent mountain range.

Up at 6 a.m. and off by 7 on a long drive to Jerusalem via Caesarea and Lod. We were soon passing Mount Tabor, where we stopped and read from Park 9. A stork flew across our view as we prepared to leave. Shortly afterwards we at arrived at Nain, the beautiful, and it merits the designation. It is situated on a hillside looking towards Mount Tabor in the pastoral hilly country of Galilee, resplendent for wild flowers of every conceivable colour. We read from Luke 17. At Afulla we stopped and took a drink at the Espresso Italiano. This is a little town inside Galilee whose industries are sugar and cotton We see Megiddo, and have a splendid view of the sliced excavation in the Tel where King Solomon's stables were found.

Driving through the plain of Sharon we met a company of girls carrying small machine guns. All girls and all boys do military service in Israel.

The coach brings us to the coast at Caesarea, where we read from Acts 10. Very little remains of the splendour of the seat of Government in New Testament times. We see something, however, of Crusaders walls and the relics of a large hall containing two seated statues wearing togas, one in white marble and the other in Nubian granite of purple colour. There is a marble floor and a mosaic pavement, all dating back to the 2nd century. The sand dunes certainly do not look promising for cultivation purposes, but the Jews are reclaiming then by planting shrubs in large numbers and at close intervals. We see the Crusader gateway to the Roman Hippodrome, and proceed on the way through the valley of Ajalon, associated with Joshua's conquests; through Lod whose Patron Saint is St. George, and where Dorcas had her home into Ramleh, a town founded by the Arabs in 713; which was the city of Arimathaea, the home of Joseph the councillor. It was founded as an Arab capital and was populated by Arabs until 1948.

We passed the ruins of Gezer, mentioned in the El Amarna tablets as one of the Canaanite towns menaced by the Habriu. This town was part of a wedding present by Pharoh to Solomon. We saw a plantation of carob trees on the way to Beth Shemesh in the vale of Sorak associated with Samson's exploits. We stayed at a roadside restaurant called Samson's Inn for refreshments and to make arrangements for our lunch in the new City of Jerusalem became we were, of course later than expected apparently through calling at Caesarea instead of visiting Tel-Aviv, if that could mean anything.

We were soon within sight of Jerusalem and the hills that stand about her. We stopped and sang Psalm 122, a Psalm of Ascent. One of the first things I noticed on arriving at the New City was that 'Ben Hur' was showing at the local cinema. They had certainly obtained it before we in Derby had done so. We had a very satisfying lunch at the Palatine Hotel.

The New Jerusalem was 101 years old when the first houses were built. It has a population of 185,000, and is the Capital of Israel. Many of the new buildings are magnificent and enjoy an advantage which our new buildings at home can never boast; they are so well sited and stand out prominently against the landscape. Our first visit was to the hill of Zion, where we saw the Cenaculum. This is the reputed place of John Mark's home and the Last Supper of our Lord. It has a beautiful vaulted upper room. Zion has been used as a Moslem Holy City till 1948 when fine Jews recaptured the Mount from the Arabs. They planned their attack on the strategy of David 3,000 years ago, by approaching it through an underground passage. Here we read St. Luke's account of the Last Supper. Though there may be doubt as to the authenticity of the place, it is certain that a small Christian congregation used to meet there very early times, and that a pagan temple had been built over the site; that the Crusaders had consecrated a Church here in their turn, and that modern excavations had revealed much of its history. This seems to be the story of many of the sacred sites. We were then taken to the reputed tomb of King David, where one crown has been added each year since 1948 to the array of silver crowns above the place.

We were due to arrive at the Jordan frontier by 4 o'clock - it was rather a solemn procedure; we were received grimly by the Israeli police, in blue uniforms, were passed into No-man's land, blocked by tank traps, and waited for instructions to proceed to the Jordan barrier. The Arab police were in khaki and carrying pistols. We thought they looked nervous and heard gun fire in the distance. The door in front at which we stopped had been riddled with bullets; buildings were shattered. The wait however was not as long as we expected. We soon passed the warning - "Danger - No man's land - Keep Out" and were packed into huge taxis which drove us to the Petra Hotel. The motorcars used in Jerusalem Old City are immense American luxury models. The streets are very narrow and mostly without sidewalks. The result is a pandemonium of motor horns. No wonder our coach was not allowed in the City; there was no room for it.

Police superintended our arrival at the Hotel, and we soon found that both they and the Arab population generally were friendly. We went into shops and were offered coffee. Most people we met at the Hotel spoke English to us. The Manager was very affable. We were informed that the hotel ran a shop a few doors away. He bought a number of presents there and thought the prices very reasonable.

The first floor of the hotel commands a magnificent view over the City, of the Temple area with the Golden Dome of the Rook immediately ahead, and the Mount of Olives beyond. The Tower of David was close by on our right, and the Church of the Holy Sepulchre some distance away on the left. One beheld this magnificent general view of Jerusalem across the pit of an extensive tank constructed in stone and partially filled with brackish water, called Hezekiah's Pool - no doubt a 9 very ancient rain catchment.

The hotel stands in David Street quite near the Jaffa Gate. We are just on the edge of the extensive area of bazaar streets in the medieval city built by the Crusaders. Little boys waylay us on the way downstairs to sell us newspapers in English or to clean our shoes or to give us information of any kind for a small reward. Groups of them would follow us on our daily excursion to the waiting coach at Dung Gate, calling 'Baksheesh' until Thomas held out his hand in imitation of their demands which gesture they seemed to take literally and took to their heels.

I was awakened early by church bells; I walked on to the first floor veranda and saw the sun rising over the Mount of Olives. I walked through the narrow bazaar streets, many of them arcaded. They seem to run like a labyrinth through the north side of the City. The shops were already open, some of them doing business in breakfasts. Donkeys laden with potatoes and other burdens Clattered over the paved ways; tiny children peered out of Doorways that gave glimpses of dark hovels or sunlit courtyards, or steps leading up to dark rooms above. They seemed to be the homes of the poor people of the City.

I passed Hospices and Churches and on my return home suddenly found myself on the roof of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. It is one of the surprising features of Old Jerusalem that the explorer may suddenly find himself on the roof or plunging down into a crypt. Streets ascend by stone stairways and are seldom found to be level. A little girl was carrying a can of snowy white frothy goat's milk down one of these stairways. On my return from the roof of the Abyssinian Church, I saw that she had met with two boys carrying similar cans of milk, and that they appeared to have stopped in their errand and to be playing a game.

I went into breakfast at about 7 a.m. Thomas asked me afterwards whether I would like to walk out with him before we set out on the pilgrimage for the day. We found ourselves eventually being invited into a shop and after a short conversation taken into a room at the back where a silversmith was making his brooches. He was then in the act of rolling a bar of silver into a long thin wire. The proprietor was a Christian, and when Tom know this he proceeded to preach, as he does on any opportunity, though he belongs to no denomination and seems to avoid attending any meeting for Christian worship or instruction, he loses no opportunity of commanding the attention of an audience of one or two, rather as Mr. Chadband might have done. we refused a drink of coffee as we were due to meet the rest of the party at 8.30.

Our visit this morning was to the mount of Olives and the Garden of Gethsemane. We made our way first to a spot that was not on our schedule, but was one of the most illuminating experiences of the Pilgrimage. It was to the Church of St. Peter Gellicante. This Church stands among the buildings of a Franciscan Monastery. We suddenly found ourselves in the company of one of the Fathers on the root of one of the Monastery buildings; our Host explained the panorama that was spread out before us. Below us was the Kedron valley and within it Mount Ophel. This was David's first settlement when he captured Jerusalem. Opposite us was the village of Siloam and the Mount of Olives; beyond Absalom's tomb could be seen in the valley; the Mount of Evil Counsel to our right, the monastery covered the below it and the valley of G round to our right.

The wall of the Temple area and the Dome of the Rock were on the left of the picture. It was a magnificent view, full of historic detail, telling a story dating back more than 3,000 years. The Father reminded us of David's capture of the City from the Jebusites of A proclamation and Solomon's building schemes, of Hezikah'a tunnel and the invasion of Sennacherib, then of Our Lord's journeys in Holy Week from Bethany on the right of Olivet to the Holy City, of the Last Supper in the house near Mount Zion, of the walk round from the S.W. of the city to the Garden of. Gethsemane beyond the Kedron Valley on the East; of His arrest there and His being brought to the house of Caiaphas, which was believed to stand somewhere near the spot on which this Church and Monastery were built. He took us into the Church and into the dungeons below where Our Lord might have spent several hours after the so called trial before Caiaphas. We walked back to the coach which drove us to the summit of the Mount of Olives. This is the highest point in Jerusalem, and was the scene of the Ascension of Our Lord. A Church and a Mosque are built together there to mark the spot. They are very bare and very crude, and I think the Church was out up by the Coptic Christians. A few candles were burning around a frame which protected a place in the rock said to be a footprint of Christ. Nearby was the Paternoster Church - a beautiful building erected in 1875 over a Byzantine foundation - together with a Convent for Carmelita Sisters. The Lord's Prayer is displayed on the wells of the Church and cloisters in huge panels presenting translations in 46 languages. Our Guide read the prayer to us from the Arabic panel.

In a cave below is a copy of a stone discovered in the excavations bearing some of the words of the Lord's Prayer in the Aramaic language.

We left the Church and walked down the route followed by Christ on Palm Sunday, calling at several sanctuaries on the way. The first of these was the exquisite Church of St. Mary Magdalene, with its many oriental turrets. This Church preserves two famous ikons and many pieces of ancient mosaic which were preserved in their places. It was built by Alexander III in 1885 and decorated by Magdalene standing before the Emperor Tiberius at Rome and accusing Pilate before him.

It was only a short distance from the Church to the Chapel of Christus Flevit and then to the Garden of Gethsemane. This Garden is beautifully kept and some of the olive trees in it look so ancient that one is easily persuaded that they may have been growing there for 2,000 years. Our Guide told us that scientific tests have given support to the claim. In this Garden is one of the most eloquent testimonies to Christian Fellowship. It is the Church of All Nations built facing the Golden Gate of the Temple through which Jesus passed on Palm Sunday. This Church is the gift of people from 15 nations which are represented in the 15 domes of the roof. There is an alabaster bass relief of the agony. Natural rook is preserved before the altar. Our Leader read from St. John 17. We walked about the Garden for several minutes, and I felt absolutely convinced after all we had seen this morning that one could not possibly refrain from giving to Christ one's whole allegiance, even if it were only in reaction from his rejection by the world. One has a most compelling sense of the world's loss in missing the meaning of the Gospel story.

In the afternoon we travelled along the 11 mile precipitous route to Bethlehem. Our first turn into the Valley of Kedron gave us a wonderful view of Gethsemane, with the Church of 46 nations and the Russian Church of St. Mary Magdalene, and the Church of the Lament, as we came to the Tomb of the Blessed Virgin Mary. The mountains of Moab were faint mauve shapes in the distance. The road to Bethany was a new road built through the mountains almost as

We passed a number of tiny villages, some of them had houses built in the rocks. Little children occasionally drifted out of our path into these little hovels, and among them we saw one girl carrying a large curved sword in a white metal scabbard. We also saw the Well of the Magi a few hundred yards away from the road in No-man's-Land. We passed Rachel's tomb, and the junction of the old road to Bethlehem, abandoned now since it runs through Israelite territory.

Our approach to Bethlehem took us appropriately past a Christian Approach Home, The Shepherds' Field lay a few miles over on our left. We stopped within view of it and read from St. Luke, Chapter 2. We were now enjoying a general view of Bethlehem. No picture can do justice to the extensive panorama of this lovely situation. On arrival we heard the Muezzin calling from the minaret a summons to worship. This was perhaps one of the few disillusionments for the man does not appear himself but spoke apparently from below through 4 megaphones on a Tanoy fixed in the turret. We entered the Church of the Nativity through a very low doorway, through which it was necessary to bow in order to enter. A Greek Orthodox service was in progress, and the Thurifier walked round the whole building sensing every part of it. I believe it is the Greek equivalent of Holy Week, and the Priests were very much in evidence throughout our tour. This Church was built by Empress Helena, Mother of Constantine the Great; destroyed as many were by the Persians in the 6th century, but part of this was preserved by them because they discovered representations of the Magi wearing Persian dress in the mosaics. The front part was rebuilt by the Crusaders and Edward IV built the ceiling and covered it with lead which was melted down by the Turks in 1914 and used against us in the form of bullets. We saw a mosaic of 335 A.D. in the floor which an Arab policeman uncovered for us. We went into the crypt and there under a marble slab was the Star of Bethlehem, and the Place of the Manager was represented by 5 sanctuary lamps. We sew St. Jerome's cave in which he translated the Bible into Latin. A very beautiful bambino lay in a niche by one of the altars and is said to have been made 35 years ago in Barcelona. On our return we visited a Home for Blind Children, who entertained us with songs, sung in two parts, telling the Easter story in English. One of the songs was Philip Brooks' hymn 'O Little Town of Bethlehem', and the tiny children sang 'Come here. all ye children'. The blind Matron told us the story of the founding of the Home by Miss Lovell of Boston, England, who had opened a holiday home for the blind at St. Leonard's in Sussex, which had been visited by a Jew from Palestine who told her of the need in his country end offered her a free passage as companion to his wife. She accepted this as a call; learnt some Arabic and adapted it to the Braille language. She came to Palestine in 1895 and tie speaker said that she herself was the first baby to be brought into this Home in 1901. She compared Miss Lovell's history to that of George Muller in Bristol, and told a story of 10 copper coins distributed to the children which had reaped ten pound notes as a thank offering from an unknown friend. In 1908 the British and Foreign Bible Society offered to print the Bible for her in Braille. By 1913 Miss Lovell end the Matron, as she now is, began laboriously to write out the Bible in Braille; a task which occupied 12 years, the war intervening, and in 1931 the Bible was ready. The speaker herself had carried on the work since 1932 after Miss Lovell's death.

I was awakened at 5 a.m. by the alamant sounding of gongs on the roof of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. I went on to the verandah to investigate the source of the noise and found that it came apparently from three Abyssinian Christians who seemed to be summoning the whole of the City to worship. I assumed that they were Abyssinians because they were on the roof where their Church is situated, but some kind of religious ceremony seemed to be going on all the morning and might even have been from the Greek Orthodox Christians celebrating Holy Thursday.

We set out at 9.30 to visit the Temple Area. It is perhaps fortunate that so many Christian commorative sites are in Moslem territory for they venerate them as much as Christians do, and this applies particularly to the Temple area where Mohammet is reputed to have ascended into heaven. The Rome of the Rock, overlaid with gold marks the sacred place of Mount Moriah, originally Araunah's threshing floor. Our Guide outlined the history of the Temple and took us down to the stables of Solomon. In the South eastern corner an Arab policemen watched us as we descended the steps end was apparently satisfied. We were soon in a kind of crypt containing a canopy surmounted by a crescent. The Mohammedans apparently regard it as the birth place of Jesus. A door led into an extensive vaulted crypt, capable of housing 10,000 horses. A dark passage led from it into Solomon's quarries from which the stone for his temple was taken. Our Guide told us an exciting story of his own experience of being lost in these underground passages, which he said might even lead as far as Jericho. He himself knows that passages penetrate at least l0 miles underground. Back in the sunlight we walked along the ramparts commanding views of the Kedron Valley and the Mount of Olives. The experience gave us a realistic idea of the impregnable situation of Mount Moriah.

A very large Mohammedan Mosque, mostly modern but partly dating back to the 14th century, was the next place we visited in the area. We took off our shoes and entered the doorway where King Abdullah was assassinated in 1952. It is a vest church, the floor entirely covered with Turkish carpets. The dome was 14th century, and 2 magnificent pulpit stood under it, said to be made of cedar wood (in which no nails had been used but all portions fitted together) and imported by Saladin from Damascus 850 years ago. A large number of people were praying in the Mosque, and we noticed that sore of them settled down to refreshments after prayers.

We walked down a narrow passage which led to the Wailing Wall A hundred years ago the Jews wailed for their past glories on the top of Olivet until the British allowed them to use the West wall of the Temple. Some of the masonry dates back to Roman times, and the lower levels of immense hewn stones are all that remains of the building of Herod the Great. Since 1948 and the partition of the country, the Jews have been unable to visit this West wall of the Temple. Doors in the walls lead to the tiny homes of Arab families and delightful little children were sitting on the thresholds waiting to great us as we made our way to St. Stephen's Gate. It was outside this gate that the first Christian martyr was stoned. We sow a fig tree, a growth of cactus and two little donkeys, one of them rubbing himself against the cactus leaves, and a woman driver turned him brusquely away. The Gate was crowded by Arab soldiers, and there seemed to be much military traffic going in and out.

We walked to the Church of St. Ann, a Crusaders building, end perhaps the finest piece of medieval architecture we have seen. Here before the Church Our Leader read from St. John 5 for the Pool of Bethesda lies close by. The Church was named after St. Ann because it marks the spot where the parents of the Blessed Virgin Mary lived. Entrance to the pool displays panels in 64 languages of the story of the healing of the blind man. I noticed that two of the languages were in Manx and Maori. The Pool was a rain catchment, but in Bible times it had apparently been a hot spring.

In the evening we followed the Via Dolorosa to the church of the Holy Sepulchre. There was so much to see and hear in the accounts given to us by our Guide and the Sister of the Convent, that one carries away only brief glimpses of the story of the last hours of Our Lord. We saw the Eco Homo Arch from which Pilate made his last appeal to the Jews, the site of Pilate's house and Praetorium end of the Fortress of Antonia, and visited two Churches in this area. The first was the Church of Condemnation where we saw part of the Lithostrotos or Pavement called in the Hebrew Gabatha. The second was the Church of the Flagellation, where we were conducted to the only known authentic site of the Way of the Cross. Most of the way that Christ walked would be several feet below the present ground level. Excavations beneath the Convent buildings had revealed the pavement and marks of the soldiers' games, some of which hinted in their designs at the actual events of the abuse that Our Lord suffered at the hands of ignorant and brutal guards. The was much traffic and military activity on the Via itself in the vicinity of these first two Stations of the Cross, owing to the visit of the Prime Minister of Jordan to the military barracks that marked the place of Pilates' house. We saw in the Convent's Chanel the triple roadway which was the only remaining part of the building of Hadrian which marked the Roman road which once passed this was as the Entrance to the Antonia Fortress. One of the Sisters showed us excellent models of the Holy City in Roman times on which she traced for us the events of the first Good Friday morning. She conducted us to the roof of the Convent, from which we had a wonderful panoramic view of the City and the kind of situation that Antonia commended over the Temple Area of the Jews. We came down into the Via Dolorosa and followed it through all the Nine stations of the Cross, which led us to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. We may have been walking the way Jesus went, though on a higher level than the streets of his time, for Jerusalem was completely destroyed by Titus in 70 A.D. and rebuilt over the ruins by the Romans, and rebuilt several times since. Determined efforts on the part of the Roman Emperor Hadrian about 100 A.D. to obliterate of Christian Holy Sites resulted in his erecting pagan temples over them. Many scholars believe that this was an unintentional way of marking them permanently for the first Christians who fled to Pela returned to Jerusalem very soon after its destruction and would probably look for the places they loved. So that when the Empress Helene, the Mother of Constantine the Great, come to Palestine to find the Holy Places, she would most likely to be truly guided by the Christians who had settled there. We were now standing before the main doorway to the Church or the Holy Sepulchre which would conceal the last Three Stations of the Cross. An earthquake in 1927 seriously damaged the Church which is now buttressed outside over the main doorway by steel girders, and the main round Church inside is supported by masses of scaffolding. It is very gloomy and certainly not so fitting a memorial as the lesser attested Garden Tomb known as Gordon's Calvary. Russian excavations have revealed something of Hadrian's Temple to Venus which was built there about 100 A.D. It follows the usual history of many sites in Jerusalem, having Roman foundations, Byzantine Churches of the 4th century, destroyed by Persians in the 7th, and rebuilt by Crusaders in the 11th century. Five Christian denominations, all Oriental, except the Roman Catholics, support the memorial. In a cave below the Armenian Chapel the Empress Helena is said to have discovered the true Cross. We read from St. Luke 23 before entering the Church and paid our devotions at the Three Stations of the Cross inside.

It has been raining heavily during the night and was raining again this morning. The downpour which persisted in Jerusalem to about midday is unusual for this time of the year. We set out at 9 o'clock on a drive North into Samaria. We past by inundated fields, some of them vast pools of light red water, wadies in spate and cascades down the hills tumbling over a terraced outcrop of rock. It was too misty to see much on the way, but the sun came out as we took refreshments at the Palestine Hotel in Nablus. We visited the Samaritan Synagogue here and were shown a scroll claimed by the Samaritans to be the oldest book in the world. It is reported to be a copy of the Penteteuch in ancient Phonecian script written a few years after the death of Moses. As the Penteteuch could not have been compiled in its present form until the 5th century B.C., their claim for its being written 3,000 years ago is extravagant, but it is undoubtedly a very ancient manuscript, and the one great treasure of the 200 remaining members of the Samaritan Community. An explanation in English was given in strident tones by a tall Samaritan, with his hair plaited in a tar-brush. The brother of the High Priest said a few words and gave us his blessing in his own language, which was interpreted by David, our Guide.

We drove on from there to Sebasti, site of the old gate of the Northern Kingdom of Israel, built by Omar, fortified by Ahab, destroyed by the Assyrians, and rebuilt gloriously by Herod the Great. We ascended the hill and made a circuit of it, passing through a Palace of Herod, with many columns still standing, and a Greek Watch Tower dating back to the Hellenistic ego, and a Temple on the summit built by Herod and dedicated to Caesar Agustus. There is a precipitous drop on the West side giving us a view of the colonnaded Roman approach from the West Gate; some of the columns still remain.

Two camel drivers had followed us up to the ancient fortification and plied a brisk trade in short rides among members of our party. One of the main occupations of the children seems to be the selling of doubtful Roman coins to visitors. We naturally refused these offers but sometimes fell for the purchase of nosegays of wild flowers which they gathered and presented to us. The floors of these ancient ruins were richly carpeted in flowers of many colours. The sun came through and beat fiercely upon our backs as we walked down to the village again. Here we sat outside under the trailing grape vine of a cafe and drank and enjoyed cooling drinks. It was pleasant to notice that nearly every water pot which the women carried to and from the well opposite our restaurant was made of earthenware. The petrol cans which are often substituted for the traditional pot may be more serviceable: Most of the children seen to speak English fairly well. One boy of 15 told me that they learn English as a second language at school, and pointed out the school building to me; a new building in sandstone, set in a garden of cypress trees, just opposite the village. We joined the coach and drove back through Nablus, between Ebal and Gerazim, two mountains that I had longed to see in reality, and through Shhohem to Sychar and the parcel of ground Jacob gave to his son Joseph.

We had been among Old Testament memories and now we came to the well by which Jesus sat when the Samaritan women came to draw water and we read from St. John, chapter 4. The Greeks have built a lovely Church over this well, the walls only half raised, and they intend to leave the building in its present unfinished state; to my mind a very happy decision. The well is approached by a staircase leading from the floor of this Church to a Greek Orthodox Crypt Chapel. We felt that here we were certainly on true Gospel ground, and gazing down the same well from which Jesus asked a drink.

We were soon approaching Shiloh, and the sun picked out the little town of square houses set against the dark shadowing hills. A glimpse and Shiloh was again merged in the gloom.

Just opposite the Damascus Gate of Jerusalem stands Gordon's Hill resembling the face of a skull. We decided to go into the Garden Tomb before returning to the Hotel, and the visit was most rewarding. If the evidence for its authenticity is slender, it is fitting as a memorial, much more fitting than the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. The tomb is in the rock side and a grove is carved out in front of it for rolling the stone into position. 0n our right side the hill on which the Crucifixion might have taken place. It was well cared for and reverently explained by the Guide, himself a Christian, who told us that the tomb was cared for by an English Society. We walked home through Damascus Gate passing through the crowded bazaar streets. After prayers we endeavoured under the usual difficulties to write up the Journal.

This morning is free until 11.30. The only free time we have had since Athens. We decided to visit the Archaeological museum which is outside the City Wall not far from the Damascus Gate. We buy our way in at a price of 8/- each; most of this charge for the privilege of viewing the fragments of the Dead Sea Scrolls exhibited there. The fragments are very tiny and are written in several languages notably Hebrew, Greek, Aramaic, Canaanite script and Nabatian. The ink in which they were written was said to be of a fine quality, and a stylus and one of the bottles was on view. One interesting document among the non Biblical exhibits was from the Administrator of Beth Mashke to Yeshu's from Elazer to Yeshu's ben Galgel, Chief of the Encampment, "Greeting, let it be known to you that the heifer which Yos ben Ariston bought from Jacob ben Judah, who resides in Beth Mashke, is his by purchase. Moreover, if the were not that the Gentiles are so close to us then I should have gone up and satisfied you concerning this, so that you would not say it was out of disrespect that I had not come to you. Farewell, and the whole of the House of Israel."

There are commentaries on Nahum and Hosea, fragments of Deuteronomy and Isaiah, and the Apocalyptic books, Deeds of Sale, and an I.0.U. from a soldier of the Fretensis Legion, parts of an unknown Greek version of the 12 Prophets of the Song of Moses and of the Exodus in an unusual Hebrew script. There was also a part of Exodus from a 3rd century script, the oldest manuscript of the Hebrew Bible extant. There were commentaries on the Psalms, Ecclesiastes and proof text concerning the Advent of Messiah. There were samples of coins, a complete basalt corn mill, a skeleton of the 1st century, and one of the most interesting of all the exhibits was an order from Barkokheba, the Chief of the Jewish Revolt, shortly after the time of Our Lord.

After an early lunch we set out through the narrow streets menaced by the broad winged American luxury cars blasting their way through in a perpetual urgency of hooting, out by the Dung Gate. to the place where our coach was waiting. We were driven down into the Valley of the Kedron and called at Bethany where we walked up a stony lane that led to the site of the House of Mary & Martha and Lazarus's tomb close by. There seems to be a very reasonable claim for this site for a Church had stood here since Byzantine times at least. There were remains of the Crusader Church of the 11th century, which was destroyed by Saladin, and a magnificent new square Chapel built by the Franciscans in 1954 and called the Church of Lazarus. Before we went inside we were shown Byzantine mosaic work carefully preserved in the Churchyard. It was interesting to compare them with the glittering new mosaics on the façade over the porch of Mary, Martha and Lazarus. We read from St. John 11, and went inside the Chapel. Here we saw Crusader mosaics carefully preserved in the floor. The dome was of clear glass in its upper reaches which showed the sky, giving a beautiful effect and lighting. the building evenly. An alabaster representation of the raising of Lazarus stood in the alter front. Magnificent modern mosaics of Gospel themes adorned the walls. We walked out of the Church yet a little further up the lane and went down into the tomb. There were about 20 steps leading down into this cave, which had been hewn out into a fairly large burying place, and we saw the former doorway which would have led into the Churchyard, but had long been blocked up by stones. A little Arab girl handed us candles as we went down, and an Arab hawker of photographs called in a clear commanding voice 'Lazarus, some forth', as I ascended the steps. It was rather a chilling moment for he was so clearly serious in his dramatic gesture, and we realised that he was repeating in his imagination a scene in which he earnestly believed.

The little town of Bethany was scattered over the slope leading to the Mount of Olives, and we realised how Jesus might have walked up these lanes, or lanes very much like them, after his long journey from Jericho. The drive to Jericho impressed this fact upon our minds that a very large part of the lives of Jesus and his disciples was taken up in walking long distances, and he must have done much of his teaching on the way.

We were soon driving down the road which falls nearly 4,000 ft. to the Dead Sea. We stood at a Water Supply called the Apostles' Fountain, which is said to be the only spring between Jerusalem and Jericho. Down by hair pin bands we gradually descended until we rose by a gentle gradient to the 'Good Samaritan Inn, the halfway house between the two cities. It is now a police post and the police officers there were very friendly and not only consented for us to take photographs of the Inn, but with themselves in the pictures as well. Two Arab horses were even brought out of the stables, a grey dappled and a chestnut brown, which two of the police mounted and posed for another picture.

The road between Jerusalem and Jericho is certainly a very lonely one, but at this time of the year the hills that rise on both sides are partially covered with grass; in the summer they would be bare and brown. They do not rise so steeply from the road as I had imagined. It is during the second half of the journey that the mountains become more forbidding.

Telegraph poles follow the route and many cars now use the well made road for Jericho has become a bright Brighton of Jerusalem. We passed a Crusaders' fortress on a hill to the left and several Bedouin camps. We sew e caravan track down a deep gorge to the right, and stopped for a moment at the opening of a tunnel which our Guide said he had entered and which was said to lead all the way to Jerusalem.

Our first glimpse of Jericho was of a Refugees Camp housing 25,000. There was a Y.W.C.A. Occupational Centre established there and the camp looked very clean. It is certainly housed in a place that would be pretty warm in the winter but one could imagine it very dry and hot in summer. We stopped at a lovely grove of palm trees, and I imagined that we might have been in the very balsam grove that had been given by Herod the Great to Cleopatra of Egypt. Elisha'a fountain was there and an engine had been installed apparently to pump the water supply into Jericho. On a level above us were some of the excavations. We climbed the hillside and saw something of the recent archaeological discoveries that had been sunk to a depth of many feet in a precipitous pit below us. Some of this masonry is said to date back 7,000 years. A visit to Jericho is no longer a dangerous undertaking that it was in the days when robbers lurked among the hills, but it is no less dangerous for the unwary visitor approaching these excavations.

The town centre of Jericho is a shabby area of shops which seem to be set in streets radiating from n central square. We passed down one of these streets which led us to the Jordan sand here the scene became desolate like a waste land where no one comes or has come since the making of the world. The mounds, apparently of mud, were a characteristic feature of this scene and one thought of reference in Genesis to the Vale of Siddim which was full of slime pits. I imagined that these mounds might have been caused by inundation of the whole valley at some time many thousands of years ago when I believe this great rift was an extensive lake or inland sea. We approached the Jordan and found a river rather narrow flowing fairly swiftly and heavy with a solution of mud or clay of a yellowish brown colour, which may have been caused by the recent heavy rains. It is reputed to be the place where John baptised his converts and where Jesus met him. The surrounding country was still muddy from the rains and swamps lay in the depressions of the land. We were in a vast flat valley bare and desolate and forbidding and inhospitable, with the mauve coloured mountains of Moab on the East, and the mountains of Judah rising in a menacing desolation on the Western side. We drove through these mud flats towards the Dead Sea, approaching it at its North-western shore where a Hotel stood, called the Dead Sea Hotel with an announcement that here was a lido 1,300 feet below sea level, and the lowest spot on earth. An extensive Tea Garden was laid out and facilities for bathing were offered. We had a view of the water extending 41 miles to the South and 11 miles across. Some of us used the bathing facilities and enjoyed the buoyancy of this lake containing 45% of salt. Like the Sea of Galilee this point at the North Nest and of the Dead Sea is evidently being developed as a tourist resort. There is a communication by bus with Jericho and Jerusalem. The sun was sinking behind the mountains of Judea as we started on our way back, and as darkness fell we lifted up our voices in hymn singing as we came within sight of the City of Jerusalem. Day closed with our dinner at the Petra Hotel and our usual meditations in the Upper Room.

Holy Communion 7.30 at Christ Church. I noticed that there was a Hostel in the compound and wondered whether one could arrange accommodation there for a holiday. We take our late breakfast at the Petra and our last walk to the Dung Gate where the coach is waiting for us. Memorable glimpses are caught through the ramparts of the City Wall across the Valley of the Kedron. It is a bright morning and our only regret is that we have to travel on a Sunday. We are bound for Amman, calling at Jerash. The journey begins along the Jericho road past the Apostles' Fountain and the Good Samaritan Inn, by-passing Jericho and approaching the Jordan which we crossed by a bridge; the water flowing rather swiftly is still of the consistency of liquid clay. For miles this part of the Valley might well be described as full of slime pits. He passed Mount Nebo where Moses looked over the Promised Land, oxen drawing primitive wooden ploughs, an Arab rode by on a pony. There is hardly a tree within sight A group of camels stood out on the sky-line on the crest of one of the hills, a herd of goats walked in single file across the meagre pasture of another hill; deep gorges wound through torturous courses hundreds of feet below; the mountains scarred and terraced billowed into the distance purple and mauve and green and stone coloured, sometimes brightly lit by the sun and sometimes under dark clouds shadows that flooded across their contours. The desolation is intensely felt, but there is a curious and pathetic anomaly in the scene. While trees have vanished from the picture, if they were ever there, Nescafe and Maxwell House contend on hideous hoardings for the palate of the far flung inhabitants of the mountains of Moab. The grandeur of the scene is of course indescribable, it is felt rather than analysed.

About mid-day we approached Jerash. This is the Bibical Gerasa, one of the Decapolis, the 10 cities self governed and inhabited mainly by Greeks in Bible times. We entered what was the city area by passing Hadrian's Arch, the Southern approach to the city in the 1st century A.D. We took refreshments at a delightful tea garden with a clear brook running through it, and set off on a tour of the ancient Greek and Roman city which must have been well over 2,000 years old and so much of its original masonry still remains as to aid the imagination most powerfully in viewing this city in its ancient glory. It stands on the ancient caravan route from Egypt to Damascus. We visited the Forum, the Temple of Isis, and a large amphitheatre capable of seating 3,000 people. So much of this theatre remains as to make it possible to hold a performance without any preparation; the acoustics were marvellous. I stood in orchestra place below and spoke a Greek poem translated into English in a normal voice suitable for a drawing room. George said that the people in the stone seats far away in the auditorium could hear perfectly. We visited three Byzantine Churches, one with a wonderful mosaic floor still well preserved, the majestic temple of Artemis, the wonderful street of columns and the Christian cathedral church. Sundry local inhabitants joined us offering Roman coins for solo which were no doubt genuine, and a shepherd left his flock and came down the pastures playing his flute and carrying his crook under his arm. Huge lintels still remain in the street of columns, some of them in position and some lying on the ground. From one of them I copied this inscription :-

In the centre of the city this wonderful street running from South to North was crossed by another from East to West, and almost the whole of the four streets was still paved and the tracks worn into the block stones by chariot wheels were clearly defined. We expressed our hearty thanks to David, the Guide, who had brought us on this wonderful farewell visit to one of the most famous archaeological sites in the Kingdom. He asked us how many times we thought he had toured this ancient ruin, but all our guesses came well short of the 200 which he claimed. The city he said had been destroyed by earthquake and not by the hands of man. We drove back to the police post and stood on the cross roads where we took a left turn and after 7 miles reached Amman, another of the ten towns, called in Bible times Philadelphia.

The city of Amman is a shabby town with dusty streets which run in the valley while the houses climb the hills around. They seem to be perched so precariously on the precipitous ledges that one feels they would almost certainly be washed away in a heavy rain storm. In the streets below soldiers guard the banks and post offices lounging and smoking and obviously not taking life seriously. There was a long altercation between our driver, our Guide and a policeman about something which we could not understand when we arrived at our hotel, but we all dismounted and were conducted into the Palace Hotel which stands on the 3rd storey and upwards of a block of offices. It is decent as oriental hotels go, but also as oriental hotels go it is in disrepair, sometimes dangerously so. A stair carpet is loose and has come away from the stair rods, and the unwary go up and down them at the risk of life and limb. Washers on taps seem to need renewal; there is, as usual, no hot water in the rooms, and in some cases no cold water. Bathroom facilities also need attending to plumbing does not always work, windows and doors do not always fit, but all this kind of neglect is thought nothing of in the East. Things seem to tumble down and lie in ruins 'Where the tree falleth there will it lie'.

I am in a room with Thomas; it is a single room which has been made up for two. Nevertheless, we spent a good night waking at least once by the Muezzin over the Tannoy in the small hours. I am up by 6 and out for a walk in the streets before breakfast. They are already busy; shops are open and from 6.30 onwards children are seen going to school with their satchels; buses are running and the day is already beginning to grow very warm. Our room has a balcony; it is going to be pleasant to relax there, especially if there is any need to wait until the chartered airplane makes up its mind to come this way. It is supposed to be in Damascus and we have been informed that it will arrive here at 2 o'clock and will take us on at 3. We should have left here at 8.30 this morning, so we are waiting. George and Thomas and I set out to find the Royal Palace. We plunged into the thronging streets, searched for a place at which to cross, were jostled by people in varying costumes. We passed a covered market whose square rivalled anything that Dickens ever discovered in the London of his day. My curiosity prompted me to investigate, but George firmly refused so we went on. A soldier in some kind of native costume carried a silver handled knife in his belt. A seller with iced drinks walked along ringing his clear toned bell. The motor horns were the most prominent and ear splitting sounds in the melee. We stumbled upon the Roman Amphitheatre and noticed that some work was being done upon it. It was less in size than the one at Jerash, but quite well preserved. We came to the Philadelphia Hotel whose name carries some recognition of the fact that this town was one of the 10 cities in Bible times.

On a hill beyond to our left stood the Royal Palace. It stands along with the Government Buildings extending away to its right, a good prominent situation. We paused to drink Turkish coffee on our return to the Hotel and continued to wait. We waited until lunch time, and settled down to wait further. Then we decided to go to the Airport and wait there.

Patience in waiting is one of the lessons to be learned on pilgrimage. It is remarkable how much some people expect. They can't go on pilgrimage without demanding full convenience and comfort at a greatly reduced price. One must expect some inconvenience. Two members of our party apparently expected a luxury tour! Most of them, however, were quite happy and content with the conditions of travel and accommodation. It is a rare privilege to be able to make this tour at so low a price of £100 in our time.

Transport seems to be organised on a network system. Parties are travelling back and forth from March to August, and if one plane is delayed for any reason it is likely to upset the travel plans of other parties. Our plans were certainly upset. We missed a day in Galilee through being delayed at Athens, and we shall be late in arriving home through this delay at Amman.

Our plane arrived at 5.30 p.m. and the pilot, who had almost fulfilled his scheduled flying time, consented to take us back as far as Nicosia where we should have to spend the night. The hostess disclaimed responsibility for delay on behalf of the airline. We assumed that the incoming party use to blame, but they arrived under the leadership of the Bishop of Leicester voluble with greetings and wearing an air of complete innocence, so we don't know who caused the delay.

We arrive at Nicosia about nightfall and find excellent accommodation at the Atlanta Hotel where we meet Bishop Stephen Neill. A cheerful welcome awaited us at the reception desk, and we held our evening devotions in a lounge off the foyer before going into dinner at 9 o'clock.

This is the day on which we should arrive in England, but we shall not have time to travel further than Naples. A song composed by several members of the party relating features of our progress to the cheerful strains of packing up our souvenirs in the camel skin bags was sung by a selected group of vocalists in the front porch of the hotel by willing permission of the management, and we took off shortly after breakfast, calling at Athens and Brindisi on the way to Naples. Some little time before reaching Mount Vesuvius a brilliant flash seemed to bounce from the wing of the plane into the fuselage, "Fasten seat belts" was flashed on the screen, Air Commodore Gordon Dean, one of the pilgrims, awoke from a doze muttering "What's that!" the pallor evident beneath his sunburn, and received no answer. The electric storm passed, or we passed through it rather without further comment. It was dark when we reached Naples and we saw very little of it. The outline of the bay was picked out in a few thousand lights, and we proceeded by coach to the Grand Palace Hotel, a narrow, tall building where we occupy rooms up several flights numbering about 100 steps and after a long wait take a typical Italian dinner, not very appetising, before returning to our rooms high above the noisy street.

I wake very early in the morning to the sound of a cavalcade of hoofs which might betoken a cavalry regiment passing by, but proves to be pony carts carrying vegetables to the Naples equivalent of Covent Garden Market. Thomas, who shares my room, has managed to obtain warm water for shaving and I take a walk along the dock before breakfast. We have a glimpse of Vesuvius from the airport and touch down at le Bourget where I buy a newspaper carrying the headline "Il retourn du Ciel" giving us the news of Major Yuri Gagarin's safe return after circling the earth in 1 hour 47 minutes in outer space. We make our safe return to Gatwick from a flight of 9,000 feet altitude after the hazards of travelling 5,000 miles in the air and 700 by road in the Holy Land. We take the 9.30 train from St. Pancras, that is George and I do, arriving in Derby by midnight. Miss Williamson is on our train from Gatwick to Victoria and has to travel all the way to Edinburgh tonight. She seems to be gratified that she has made the pilgrimage in her advancing years and added a cherished memory to her long; life, as George and I have in our middle age achieved the dream of treading in the steps of our Lord for 10 marvellous days.

These stories were written in response to the wishes of a friend with whom I went on pilgrimage to Holy Hand in 1961. The Prologue, called 'Miss Wilkinson,' written in the Autumn of that year lay among the MSS. of short stories that I was bringing at intervals of six weeks or so to a group of friends meeting in a house in Derby at weekends.

It was not until exactly three years after the pilgrimage that I realized the time had come for me to answer repeated requests to write a volume of stories on the Friends of Jesus.

I had kept a Journal of those ten days of pilgrimage and in the setting which these notes recall I began to place my own imaginative reading of many of the Gospel stories.

On Maundy Thursday 1964 in my room at Belper I wrote the first pages of 'A Man Bearing a Pitcher of Water' which I completed and read to my friends at Easter. A week later I wrote 'A Man Compelled.' I read again my story on Miss Wilkinson and decided to arrange the stories that followed in the form of a pilgrimage imaginatively reconstructed with my character of Miss Wilkinson as the narrator linking them with Episodes in which Miss Wilkinson was kept in the picture.

I was encouraged by the response from boys and girls of the Vth Form at the Grammar School to whom I read several of the stories as I wrote them, and by the end of the Summer Term I had twelve chapters to my collection.

I am indebted to the friend mentioned in my Journal for the original impetus to write the stories which have become my most gratifying pursuit and recognise the strong obligation which I affectionately discharge in dedicating them to K.M.P or the 'George Tidd' of 1961!