The cold was such that we were obliged to wrap our faces and
our hands as we would in January. As we descended the mountain, we
found it about as warm as February. That night we staid in the deep
valley of Ishtazin, in the village of Boobawa, where Yohanan and
Guly dwell. The people here are very wild and hard. Yohanan and Guly
were not here, having gone to visit Khananis. Only a few came
together for preaching. The people said, 'Yohanan preaches, and we
revile.' May 13th, we left Boobawa, and soon crossed the river. Men
had gone before us, and were lying in wait there. They stripped us,
but afterwards, of themselves, became sorry, and returned our
things. As we were going along this wonderful, fearful river, and
beheld the mountains on either side covered with beautiful forests,
we remembered Mr. Rhea, the composer of the hymn, 'Valley of
Ishtazin.' And when filled with wonder at the works of the Great
Creator, we all, with one voice, praised him in songs of joy fitting
for the mountains. Here the brethren reminded me that our dear Miss
Fiske had trodden these fearful precipices. This greatly encouraged
me in my journey.
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