33° I GO A-FISHING. 



conversation with each, and to win the admiration and 

 affection of all. I know no one in Jerusalem who did not 

 love that old man. The monks of the Terra Santa, many 

 of whom I knew well, had pleasant words to speak of him ; 

 Armenian priests looked kindly on him. I don't believe 

 that Mohammed Dunnuf himself, the principal sheik of 

 the Mosque of Omar, ever harbored an unkind thought 

 of the patient, gentle old American, or that a Moham- 

 medan boy or woman who knew him would ever spit 

 curses before him in the streets, as they did a thousand 

 times at me. Pursuing his quiet way, he walked the 

 streets of Jerusalem year after year, in the constant labor 

 of love to which he had devoted his life. His wants were 

 very few, and his expenses a mere trifle. In 1858, he 

 yielded to the infirmities of age and disease, and then lay 

 for three years on his bed, in the same room in a hospi- 

 tal on Mount Zion, patiently waiting the change. 



" I had no words with which to express my own satisfac- 

 tion when I heard by letter from the United States con- 

 sul at Jerusalem that my old friend had at last reached 

 the Jerusalem of his earnest expectation. No more weary 

 climbing up the sides of Olivet, to sit down sadly on the 

 summit, gazing into the sky which there received out of 

 sight his ascended Lord. No more dark nights of sleep- 

 less pain on the sides of Zion, praying for the coming of 

 the Great Physician with his gift of rest ! 



" I know where they buried him, for the last time I was 

 in Jerusalem I went to his grave as to that of a hero and 

 a saint. 



" Nowhere on earth does a man sleep the long sleep in 

 such company as at Jerusalem. 



" Outside the walls, on the southern slope of Zion, beau- 

 tiful for situation as of old, there is a little English burial- 



