There is a Roman Catholic convent there, where the minister lodged. He
was much disturbed all day by the noise in the town; not the noise of
carts and wagons, for there are none in Canaan, but of screaming
children, braying asses, and grunting camels. One of his servants came to
him complaining that he had lost his purse with all his wages. He had
left it in his cell, and when he came back it was gone. Who could have
taken it? It was clear one of the servants of the convent must have
stolen it, for one of them had the key of the room. The travellers went
to the judge of the town to complain; but the judge, who was a Turk, was
asleep, and no one was allowed to awake him. In the evening, when he did
awake, he would not see justice done, because he said he had nothing to
do with the servants at the convent, as they were Christians. Nazareth,
you see, is still a wicked city, where robbery is committed and not
punished.
There is much to make the traveller sad as he wanders about the Holy
Land.
That land was once _fruitful_, but now it is barren. It is not surprising
that no one plants and sows in the fields, because the Turks would take
away the harvests.
Once it was a _peaceful_ land, but now there are so many enemies that
every man carries a gun to defend himself.
Once it was a _holy_ land, but now Mahomet is honored, and not the God of
Israel.
When shall it again be fruitful, and peaceful, and holy? When the Jews
shall repent of their sins and turn to the Lord.
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