verywhere about at
the sides of the streets. Cauliflowers thirty-six inches around, with
every other vegetable equally fine, melons, lemons, oranges, grapes,
tomatoes, asparagus, onions, leeks, lettuce, water-cress, even garlic,
all were here, with turbaned dealers sitting cross-legged among the
produce.

Early as it was, crowds of American, English, and Continental tourists
were abroad, their gleaming white drill attire and tobies and helmets,
conspicuous among the grander colour of the natives.

But George Bullen had seen all this many times before, his eyes now
took but little note of the streets and their contents, except that he
noted the fact under the new order of things, since the Jews had come
into possession of the city, that there was scarce a Moslem of any kind
to be seen, and that most of the tumble-down, smaller houses, of a few
years back, had been pulled down, and that the streets in consequence
had been considerably widened. Hundreds of new houses of bungalow
type, had taken the places of those pulled down. Most of these were
built on the "Frazzi" system, or else after the fashion known as
reinforced concrete.

All these changes were note-worthy, and full of meaning, but George
Bullen's eyes and attention were almost wholly absorbed by the Temple
that crowned Mount Moriah. He had not, of course, seen that wonderful
painting on Vellum which Rabbi Cohen had shown Ralph Bastin. It is
true he had seen photographs and sketches reproduced in the English
illustrated papers. But none of these had prepared him for the actual.

Robed in his Syrian garb, and looking for all the world like the "real
article," he passed through the cosmopolitan crowd always making his
way upwards to where the marble and gold of the wonderful Temple reared
itself.

Arrived outside the great main gates, he stood awed at the wonder and
magnificence of all that he saw. The whole structure was complete.
Not a pole or plank of scaffolding was left standing, no litter or
rubbish heaps were to be seen; every approach, every yard of the
enclosure was beautifully swept. A few officials, in a remarkable
uniform moved here and there about the great enclosure.

For two hours George Bullen moved slowly round the Temple, making long
pauses at intervals, and taking in every item of the wondrous
architecture and still more wondrous ornamentation. When he finally
left the Mount, and took his way down the wide, steep decline--the
whol