except that they are without ornaments, either
sculptured or painted. There are fragments of sarcophagi in some of them.
On the southern side of the valley is a large quarry, evidently worked for
marble, as the blocks have been cut out from below, leaving a large
overhanging mass, part of which has broken off and fallen down. Some
pieces which I picked up were of a very fine white marble, somewhat
resembling that of Carrara. The opening of the quarry made a striking
picture, the soft pink hue of the weather-stained rock contrasting
exquisitely with the vivid green of the vines festooning the entrance.

From the long hill beyond the Tombs, we took our last view of Jerusalem,
far beyond whose walls I saw the Church of the Nativity, at Bethlehem. The
Jewish synagogue on the top of the mountain called Nebbee Samwil, the
highest peak in Palestine, was visible at some distance to the west.
Notwithstanding its sanctity, I felt little regret at leaving Jerusalem,
and cheerfully took the rough road northward, over the stony hills. There
were few habitations in sight, yet the hill-sides were cultivated,
wherever it was possible for anything to grow. The wheat was just coming
into head, and the people were at work, planting maize. After four hours'
ride, we reached El Bireh, a little village on a hill, with the ruins of a
convent and a large khan. The place takes its name from a fountain of
excellent water, beside which we found our tents already pitched. In the
evening, two Englishmen, an ancient Mentor, with a wild young Telemachus
in charge, arrived, and camped near us. The night was calm and cool, and
the full moon poured a flood of light over the bare and silent hills.

We rose long before sunrise, and rode off in the brilliant morning--the
sky unstained by a speck of vapor. In the valley, beyond El Bireh, the
husbandmen were already at their ploughs, and the village boys were on
their way to the uncultured parts of the hills, with their flocks of sheep
and goats. The valley terminated in a deep gorge, with perpendicular walls
of rock on either side. Our road mounted the hill on the eastern side, and
followed the brink of the precipice through the pass, where an enchanting
landscape opened upon us. The village of Yebrood crowned a hill which rose
opposite, and the mountain slopes leaning towards it on all sides were
covered with orchards of fig trees; and either rustling with wheat or
cleanly ploughed for maize. The soil was a