uest, and I went home.

The few Roman Catholic priests who live in the church of the Holy
Sepulchre stay there for three months at a time, to perform the
services. During this time they are not allowed to quit the church
or the convent for a single instant. After the three months have
elapsed, they are relieved by other priests.

On the 10th of June I was present at the ceremony of admission into
the Order of the Holy Sepulchre. Counts Zichy, Wratislaw, and Salm
Reifferscheit were, at their own request, installed as knights of
the Sepulchre. The inauguration took place in the chapel.

The chief priest having taken his seat on a chair of state, the
candidate for knighthood knelt before him, and took the customary
oaths to defend the holy church, to protect widows and orphans, etc.
During this time the priests who stood round said prayers. Now one
of the spurs of Godfrey de Bouillon was fastened on the heel of the
knight; the sword of this hero was put into his hands, the sheath
fastened to his side, and a cross with a heavy gold chain, that had
also belonged to Godfrey de Bouillon, was put round his neck. Then
the kneeling man received the stroke of knighthood on his head and
shoulders, the priests embraced the newly-elected knight, and the
ceremony was over.

A plentiful feast, given by the new-chosen knights, concluded the
solemnity.

Distant somewhat less than a mile from Jerusalem is the Mount of
Olives. Emerging from St. Stephen's Gate, we pass the Turkish
burial-ground, and reach the spot where St. Stephen was stoned. Not
far off we see the bed of the brook Cedron, which is at this season
of the year completely dried up. A stone bridge leads across the
brook; adjoining it is a stone slab where they shew traces of the
footsteps of the Saviour, as He was brought across this bridge from
Gethsemane, and stumbled and fell. Crossing this bridge, we arrive
at the grotto where Jesus sweat blood. This grotto still retains
its original form. A plain wooden altar has been erected there, a
few years since, by a Bavarian prince, and the entrance is closed by
an iron gate. Not far off is Gethsemane. Eight olive-trees are
here to be seen that have attained a great age; nowhere else had I
seen these trees with such massive trunks, though I had frequently
passed through whole plantations of olives. Those who are learned
in natural history assert that the olive-tree cannot live to so
great an age as to render i