aised from the dead; the spot from whence he sent for
the ass and the ass's colt; the path from thence to the city by which
he rode when the multitude "cried, saying, Hosanna to the Son of
David!" the same multitude which afterwards came out against him with
staves: these places are there, now as they were in his day, very
credible--nay, more, impossible not to be believed. These are the
true holy places of Jerusalem, places for which Greeks and Latins do
not fight, guarded by no sedate, coffee-drinking Turks, open there
to all men under the fair heavens, and desolate enough, too, even in
these pilgrim weeks, for any one or two who will sit there alone and
ponder over the wondrous history of the city that still lies over
against him.

But what is the so strong evidence of the actual identity of these
places? What is it that makes me so sure that this is the Mount of
Olives, and that water-channel there the brook Cedron, and the hamlet
on the other side the veritable Bethany? Why is one to be so sure of
these, and yet feel such an infinity of doubt as to that village of
Emmaus, that valley of Ajalon, that supposed Arimathea, and the rest
of them? Nay, I cannot well say, at any rate not in these light novel
pages. Dr. Stanley, with considerable distinctness does say. But go
and see: with the ordinary Protestant Christian seeing here will be
believing, as seeing over in that church of the holy places most
indisputably will be disbelieving.

Hither Bertram strolled, and, seated on the brow of the hill, looked
over to Jerusalem till the short twilight of the Syrian evening had
left him, and he could no longer discern the wondrous spots on which
his eye still rested. Wondrous, indeed! There before him were the
walls of Jerusalem, standing up erect from the hill-side--for the
city is still all fenced up--stretching from hill to hill in varying
but ever continued line: on the left was the Hill of Sion, David's
hill, a hill still inhabited, and mainly by Jews. Here is still
the Jews' quarters, and the Jews' hospital too, tended by English
doctors, nurtured also by English money; and here, too, close to
David's Gate, close also to that new huge Armenian convent, shall
one, somewhat closely scrutinizing among heaps of rubbish, come upon
a colony of lepers. In the town, but not of it, within the walls, but
forbidden all ingress to the streets, there they dwell, a race of
mournfullest Pariahs. From father to son, from mother to da