We had still a good four hours' ride before us to Nablus, our resting-place for the night.
The roads here are bad beyond conception, so that at first the stranger despairs of passing them either on foot or on horseback.
Frequently the way leads up hill and down dale, over great masses of rock; and I was truly surprised at the strength and agility of our poor horses, which displayed extraordinary sagacity in picking out the little ledges on which they could place their feet safely in climbing from rock to rock.

Sometimes we crossed smooth slabs of stone, where the horses were in imminent danger of slipping; at others, the road led us past frightful chasms, the sight of which was sufficient to make me dizzy.

I had read many accounts of these roads, and was prepared to find them bad enough; but my expectations were far surpassed by the reality.

All that the traveller can do is to trust in Providence, and abandon himself to fate and to the sagacity of his horse.
An hour and a half before we reached the goal of this day's journey, we passed the grave of the patriarch Jacob.

Had our attention not been particularly drawn to this monument, we should have ridden by without noticing it, for a few scattered blocks of stone are all that remain.