years to arrange a special evangelistic medical trip in the spring of the year. Sometimes Mrs. Nelson and I would join Dr. Harris in a journey of two or three weeks, and sometimes the doctor and I would go alone. One of the most memorable of these journeys was in the spring of 1893, in the month of May. We had our tent and camp outfit and the large chests of medical supplies carried on mules and were accompanied by our cook, with his portable kitchen packed away under him, and the Syrian assistant of the doctor, so that we made quite a party altogether. We started along the shore north from Tripoli, making our first camp about ten miles out of the city. The next day's journey brought us to Tartoose on the shore opposite the island of Arvad. Ezek. 27:8. This island lies only a short distance from the shore, but I have never yet been able to reach it because of the violent west wind on each occasion of a visit to Tartoose. The island is wholly covered by the town, which is occupied by sturdy sailors and fishermen. There are many interesting relics of ancient times in Tartoose, though it is possible that many of the coins offered to the credulous public may have been produced recently in the place itself.

LATAKIA BOYS' SCHOOL

At the edge of the town stands a fine Gothic church, whose substantial walls and graceful arches are a pleasure to the eye. The empty windows make one feel lonesome as he approaches the building, and the bare interior speaks of a decadent Christianity that adds to the sadness. But, worst of all, is the minaret crudely built on the corner of the roof, for this is another of the many Christian churches in Turkey which have been transformed into mosques.

At another of our camping places we found, near at hand, an old Roman amphitheater, where it was not difficult to imagine a concourse of pleasure seekers seated on the stone benches watching some exhibition of strength or skill in the arena below. Wherever one goes in Syria, he is reminded of an ancient glory and power, in close and vivid contrast to a present state of decay and weakness.

Our first Sabbath, on this journey, found us at Latakia, where we spent the day with our neighbors and fellow workers of the Reformed Presbyterian mission. This mission was started especially to reach the Nusairiyeh people of north Syria. Because of the persistent interference of the Turkish Government, their work has been greatly hampered and their efforts largely restricted to the training of boys and girls in the boarding institutions in the city, and ministration to the sick in the hospital. It was a great pleasure to have this break in our journey and the pleasant intercourse with those engaged in the same kind of service as our own, and to have the privilege of speaking to the young people in their schools.

On Monday we went a short distance from the city, pitching our tent near a village of considerable size on the plain some miles back from the sea. As I sat in the moonlight at the door of the tent, a man wearing the white turban of a Moslem scholar approached me. He seated himself near me after a pleasant greeting and we fell into agreeable conversation. After some time, this man took the opportunity, when no one was near enough to overhear him, to ask most earnestly that we should send them a teacher for their children. I was surprised at the request from such a source and turned the conversation so as to make sure that he understood who we were and what kind of schools we conducted. He showed that he understood the matter fully, and that he really desired a Protestant Christian teacher for his town. I then asked him directly, "Are you not a Moslem?" Looking about again, to make sure no one should hear him, he said, "Yes, I am a Moslem now," with an emphasis on the last word which revealed the facts in the case. He was of a Nusairiyeh family but had yielded to the persistent pressure of the government so far as to accept the form of adherence to Islam, though in his heart he hated the system and its followers most cordially.

A long day's ride brought us through the wild and tortuous valley of the Nahr-ul-Kandil, up the slope of Mount Cassius to the town of Kessab, some four thousand feet above the sea, where the Latakia missionaries have their summer homes. It was a most beautiful though rugged ride, and would have been thoroughly enjoyable in good weather. The wild flowers were in full bloom, and every turn in the road brought into view a new combination of varied and bright colors, where the little blossoms clustered amid the green foliage, among the gray rocks. The great drawback to our enjoyment lay in the fact that for a large part of the distance we rode in a heavy and most unexpected rainfall. We were not prepared for such an experience in the month of May, and so reached our destination soaked and cold. We had been directed to take possession of one of the cottages belonging to the missionaries in Latakia, and it was certainly a most welcome haven. We were able to light a fire in the kitchen stove and spread out our wet garments to dry, while we warmed ourselves in the grateful heat.

It was a disappointment the next day that the top of Cassius was enveloped in heavy cloud, forbidding an ascent. This mountain is about five thousand feet in height, rising directly from the sea, and so is a conspicuous object from every direction and gives an extensive view from its summit. We could tarry but one day, and descended to the old site of Seleucia, at the mouth of the Orontes, and saw some remnants of the old harbor from which Paul set sail more than once. The Orontes is quite wide and deep near its mouth and we crossed it on just such a wire ferry as I had seen many years before on the Connecticut River in Massachusetts. The gardens of Swadia were most refreshing with their green verdure, cool shade and rich fruit, after a long day's ride in the heat, and again we had the pleasure of missionary fellowship, for our friends of the Reformed Presbyterian mission have a station here also. Another easy stage brought us to old Antioch, so closely associated with the beginning of Christian history. It is not an attractive city in outward appearance and has suffered much at different times from earthquake.

From Antioch we followed the Orontes Valley up to Hamath, where we were once more among our own organized stations. Such journeys give us an acquaintance with the country and the people, which is of the most vital importance in planning for the proper expansion of the work.

Once, on a pleasant summer evening, we were encamped near a Nusairiyeh village. Among those gathered about us were an elderly peasant and his son, a well-built, sturdy youth of seventeen or eighteen years. As he sat before us this young man appeared to be in perfect health and vigor, but when he rose to walk, his awkward gait revealed his misfortune, for both feet were so badly deformed that he walked on his ankles and not on the soles of his feet. The doctor was asked whether this defect could be remedied. After a careful examination the lad was told that the operation would be painful, and that some time would be required,