rist. Better the divinely-inspired Man,
the purest and most perfect of His race, the pattern and type of all that
is good and holy in Humanity, than the Deity for whose intercession we
pray, while we trample His teachings under our feet. It would be well for
many Christian sects, did they keep more constantly before their eyes the
sublime humanity of Christ. How much bitter intolerance and persecution
might be spared the world, if, instead of simply adoring Him as a Divine
Mediator, they would strive to walk the ways He trod on earth. But
Christianity is still undeveloped, and there is yet no sect which
represents its fall and perfect spirit.

It is my misfortune if I give offence by these remarks. I cannot assume
emotions I do not feel, and must describe Jerusalem as I found it. Since
being here, I have read the accounts of several travellers, and in many
cases the devotional rhapsodies--the ecstacies of awe and reverence--in
which they indulge, strike me as forced and affected. The pious writers
have described what was expected of them, not what they found. It was
partly from reading such accounts that my anticipations were raised too
high, for the view of the city from the Jaffa road and the panorama from
the Mount of Olives are the only things wherein I have been pleasantly
disappointed.

By far the most interesting relic left to the city is the foundation wall
of Solomon's Temple. The Mosque of Omar, according to the accounts of the
Turks, and Mr. Gather wood's examination, rests on immense vaults, which
are believed to be the substructions of the Temple itself. Under the dome
of the mosque there is a large mass of natural rock, revered by the
Moslems as that from which Mahomet mounted the beast Borak when he visited
the Seven Heavens, and believed by Mr. Catherwood to have served as part
of the foundation of the Holy of Holies. No Christian is allowed to enter
the mosque, or even its enclosure, on penalty of death, and even the
firman of the Sultan has failed to obtain admission for a Frank. I have
been strongly tempted to make the attempt in my Egyptian dress, which
happens to resemble that of a mollah or Moslem priest, but the Dervishes
in the adjoining college have sharp eyes, and my pronunciation of Arabic
would betray me in case I was accosted. I even went so far as to buy a
string of the large beads usually carried by a mollah, but unluckily I do
not know the Moslem form of prayer, or I might carry out the p