ght us down. An aperture opens from
the roadside into the hill, and there is barely room enough for a person
to enter. Descending about twenty steps at a sharp angle, we landed in a
small, damp vault, with an opening in the floor, communicating with a
short passage below. The vault was undoubtedly excavated for sepulchral
purposes, and the bodies were probably deposited (as in many Egyptian
tombs) in the pit under it. Our guide, however, pointed to a square mass
of masonry in one corner as the tomb of Lazarus, whose body, he informed
us, was still walled up there. There was an arch in the side of the vault,
once leading to other chambers, but now closed up, and the guide stated
that seventy-four Prophets were interred therein. There seems to be no
doubt that the present Arab village occupies the site of Bethany; and if
it could be proved that this pit existed at the beginning of the Christian
Era, and there never had been any other, we might accept it as the tomb of
Lazarus. On the crest of a high hill, over against Bethany, is an Arab
village on the site of Bethpage.

We descended into the valley of a winter stream, now filled with patches
of sparse wheat, just beginning to ripen. The mountains grew more bleak
and desolate as we advanced, and as there is a regular descent in the
several ranges over which one must pass, the distant hills of the lands of
Moab and Ammon were always in sight, rising like a high, blue wall against
the sky. The Dead Sea is 4,000 feet below Jerusalem, but the general slope
of the intervening district is so regular that from the spires of the
city, and the Mount of Olives, one can look down directly upon its waters.
This deceived me as to the actual distance, and I could scarcely credit
the assertion of our Arab escort, that it would require six hours to reach
it. After we had ridden nearly two hours, we left the Jericho road,
sending Mustapha and a staunch old Arab direct to our resting-place for
the night, in the Valley of the Jordan. The two mounted Bedouins
accompanied us across the rugged mountains lying between us and the Dead
Sea.

At first, we took the way to the Convent of Mar Saba, following the course
of the Brook Kedron down the Wady en-Nar (Valley of Fire). In half an hour
more we reached two large tanks, hewn out under the base of a limestone
cliff, and nearly filled with rain. The surface was covered with a
greenish vegetable scum, and three wild and dirty Arabs of the hills wer