lem whence their leader ascended into heaven. | saders' "Arms of Jerusalem," which most pilAnd the footprint of Mohammed is as confidently shown by his followers as that of the Saviour is exhibited by Christians on the Mount of Olives.

Let us now follow our travelers on anothering valley, and rapidly approach Bethlehem, expedition from the Dead Sea to Bethlehem. "of all the towns of Syria the gayest and We have drunk and bathed in the waters of the brightest." Here alone are seen beautiful Jordan. We have seen in the distance the women with unveiled faces, for no Turk resides ruins of Bethabara, where John the Baptist in Bethlehem. Ibrahim Pacha, in a freak of commenced his preaching; the solitude which tyrannical fury, turned out every Mohammedan witnessed the temptations of St. Jerome; and and razed their houses to the ground. the desert where St. Mary of Egypt expiated by a life of penance the sins of her youth. Now our guides point out Mount Abarim, from whence Moses contemplated the Promised Land, and Mount Nebo where he died. And we think of the obsequies of Moses, for "God buried him."

"That was the grandest funeral that ever passed on earth,

Yet no man heard the tramping, nor saw the train go forth:

Silently as the spring-time her crown of verdure

weaves,

And all the trees on all the hills open their ten

der leaves;

Silently as the morning comes when the night is done,

into the great sun.

And the crimson streak on ocean's cheek grows So, without sound of music or voice of them that wept,

Silently down from the mountain's crown the great

procession swept."

Nazareth shares with Bethlehem in the brighter associations of the Christian faith; it is also, in like manner, free from the presence of the Turk. And near Nazareth, after we leave the marshy swamps of the Kishon, lies "beautiful Carmel."

We can not more fitly close this paper than with Lady Herbert's graphic description of

GOOD-FRIDAY AT JERUSALEM.

It is the evening of Holy Thursday. The last wail of the Tenebræ has died out of the aisles of the solemn Church of the Holy Sepulchre. A temporary altar had been erected in the morning, opposite the sacred shrine where our dear Lord was laid, and upward of a thou

sand pilgrims had received the Bread of Life from the hands of the venerable Patriarch. But now this altar had been removed, and one by one the worshipers had departed, save such of the Franciscan monks as had been appointed to watch throughout the night by the Blessed Sacrament, and whom the Turks had consequently locked into the building.

Rapidly we have passed by the desolate shores of that sea, which, lying like a calm Swiss lake, with its purple tinted mountains, in its quiet loveliness, yet breathes only bitterness and desolation to those who venture in or near its waters. Father Faber has thus described it: "The scene now-the intense blue, the violet haze, the lifeless waters, with no life but the bitterness of God's anger in themsparkling, spiked crystals of salt-yellow-foliaged canes as if it were always autumn theresalt-frosted plants and leafless, ragged shrubs of thorny acacia-the ragged limestone clefts upon the west, and on the east the red mountains of Moab, as if they were on fire in the summer sunset-sunk in the hollow-cavern trough, that eye of shining water looks up through its violet haze to heaven; and the sun burnishes it, and the moon silvers it, and the stars shine deep down into it, and the winds ripple it, and the rain patters upon it in beaded drops, and the scene itself is a silent worship of the magnificent anger of our Heavenly Father. There is no horror in the place, only an inward gloom of heart in spite of the outward radiance of the landscape. It is as if God had painted a picture of the universal doom, and then had drawn this weary brightness of silent desolation like a curtain over the horrors of the painting. terrible beauty! O! terrible sunshine of that blue Dead Sea! God's majesty never cows us more than when it looks so imperturbable!" From this scene we have passed into the desert, where there is not a tree or bush, and infested by hostile Bedouins, and at length reach the Convent of Mar Saba, near those caverns where the Anchorites lived in the early days of the Church. Then we come into the smil-vestments, decorations, etc. VOL. XXXVI.-No. 216.-3 B

O!

In the Church of St. Salvatore all is profoundly dark, save in the chapel on the left,' where the Blessed Sacrament has been deposited in the Sepulchre until the terrible day be over which witnessed the death-agony of the Son of God. That side-chapel is decorated on all sides with beautiful plants aud flowers, and illuminated with a multitude of tapers. There two figures are kneeling, motionless and absorbed in prayer. One by one the Franciscan monks, wearied with their long fast and the terrible penances of the night before, have disappeared through the side-door which leads into their dormitory. Still the two watchers kneel on. They are women. The one still young, dressed in deep widow's mourning; the other older, and bearing on her face traces of still deeper suffering, yet with an expression of peace which spoke of that suffering having been accepted for the love of Him who sent it. Six years ago this lady, the Marquise de of noble and even royal blood, had come, like her young English companion, as a stranger and pilgrim to Jerusalem, and there felt the irresistible attraction which, in spite of its mournfulness and desolation, binds every heart to the Holy City. She found likewise that there was a great work for any woman to do who was willing to devote herself to such a life; the work of a St. Paula, to assist in receiving and looking after the female pilgrims, who, at Christmas and Easter tides, flock by hundreds to the Caga Nuova; to have the care of the altars of the different churches and chapels, of the linen and

ing along the narrow and ill-paved street; but their drivers, with skill and care, made them avoid the kneeling figures. With all their bigotry and hatred of the Christian faith, the Turks have an instinctive reverence for every outward expression of devotion.

This loving watcher by our Lord's Body at interruption occurred from a file of camels passlast rose, and touching her companion, said softly: "My child, you must come and rest; remember to-morrow morning." The two women left the church reluctantly, and threaded their way up the steep and narrow street to the Casa Nuova, where, bowing their heads to the "God be with You!" of the Spanish monk who let them through the heavy nailed door, they walked swiftly up the stairs and through the long corridor to the two cells set apart for their

use.

At the Seventh Station a bazar has been built across the Via Dolorosa, which compels the pilgrims to make a détour through the remains of what was once the Hospice of the Knights Templars, in order to arrive at the station where our Blessed Lord addressed the daughters of Jeru

Five hours later the same women, closely veiled and carrying a lantern, were toiling pain-salem, "who mourned and bewailed Him." It fully down the rugged and slippery street which leads through the bazars to the other side of the city.

From thence they proceeded, with still swifter steps, under the arch, passed the gate of the Convent of the Père Ratisbon, where the Filles de Sion have established their admirable orphanage, and so on to the postern-gate in the wall which admitted them to the court-yard of the Church of the Flagellation.

"His Royal Highness has not yet arrived," said the lay brother as he unbarred the door; "but he will not long tarry. It is just four o'clock."

is a blessed and comforting thought to women, wearied with the struggle and strife and misunderstandings of this hard world, that to them alone was granted the unspeakable privilege of ministering to His Sacred Humanity, and that He never rejected their love or their sympathy. The last at the Cross, and the first at the Sepulchre, it was to a woman that our Master first showed Himself after His Resurrection.

At last the gates of the Holy Sepulchre are reached, that wonderful church which incloses in its wide area the scenes of the last five stations. But here an unexpected obstacle presented itself. In spite of all the blood and So saying, he ushered the ladies in to the treasure wasted in the Crimean war (a war cloister, and then into the church, where the which was the climax of a rupture founded on only light was thrown on the column of the the subject of the Holy Places), the Turks still Flagellation, that terrible monument of man's retain unmolested possession of that building so impiety and the long-suffering of God. In a sacred to the heart of every Christian, and with few moments the door again opened, and ad- petty tyranny continually refuse to open it at mitted a man still young, of noble and aristo- the hours desired by the pilgrims. On this occratic bearing (followed by two ecclesiastics and casion even the presence of the royal duke did two other gentlemen), who advanced in front not induce them to open the door a moment of the column, and pushing aside the cushion sooner than had been fixed by the Pacha; and placed for him, knelt on the ground in long and for more than an hour the little group stood or fervent adoration. An exile from his country knelt on the steps leading to the side-chapel of and his kingdom, this royal pilgrim had come, the Blessed Virgin. At last the doors are in earnest faith and deep humility, to visit the thrown open, and the little procession, passing scenes of his Saviour's sufferings and death. by the Stone of Unction, and up the steps leadBareheaded he had walked from the city gates, ing to the Chapel of Calvary, came to the spot on his first arrival, to the Church of the Holy where, stripped of His garments, our Divine Sepulchre, discarding all pomp and retinue, and Lord was nailed to His Cross. The exact place compelling the Pacha, who had come out to meet is pointed out, and is on the right of that terhim with due honors, to walk bareheaded like-rible hole where the Cross was sunk when liftwise by his side, behind the symbol of man's re-ed up, whereby He that hung thereon "might demption. And in the same spirit he had chosen this early hour to follow unnoticed, and almost alone, the footsteps of the Lord he loved so well, in that awful Via Dolorosa which witnessed the most touching portion of His Passion. The solemn service began. Commencing with the Prætorium of Pilate, where the terrible sentence was pronounced, the little band of worshipers followed the sacred and sorrowful path down the steep hill, kneeling at the different stations, heedless of the mud, while the low chant of the “Stabat Mater" echoed through the deserted streets. The day was just breaking when they arrived at the House of Mary, from whence the Mother of Sorrows hurried forth to meet her Divine Son.

At the House (so called) of Veronica a little

draw all men unto Himself." Here also, during that exquisite time of torture, His Blessed Mother stood; and the voices of the kneelers are choked with emotion as the words "Sancta Mater, istud agas," etc., echoed through the sacred building. To the left now they turn, to the very spot where the tremendous sacrifice was consummated, and where the riven rock still remains as a standing witness of that awful mystery. Thence, passing again down the steps, it was with a sense of relief from a pain and tension too great to be borne that the pilgrims came to the beautiful low shrine where, the anguish and torture of the three hours' agony being over, the earthly remains of our dear Lord were laid. Crossing the outer chapel, where still remains the stone on which the angel