ndation stones of the wall, mourning and lamenting for the
majesty that is departed and the Temple that is ground to powder.

But amid all these changes and perturbations, here stands the good old
limestone rock, the threshing-floor of Araunah, the capstone of the
hill, waiting for the sun to shine and the dews to fall on it once more,
as they did when the foundations of the earth were laid.

The legend says that you can hear the waters of the flood roaring in an
abyss underneath the rock. I laid my ear against the rugged stone and
listened. What sound? Was it the voice of turbulent centuries and the
lapsing tides of men?

II

GOLGOTHA

"We ought to go again to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre," said the
Lady in a voice of dutiful reminder, "we have not half seen it." So we
went down to the heart of Jerusalem and entered the labyrinthine shrine.

The motley crowd in the paved quadrangle in front of the double-arched
doorway were buying and selling, bickering and chaffering and chattering
as usual. Within the portal, on a slightly raised platform to the left,
the Turkish guardians of the holy places and keepers of the peace
between Christians were seated among their rugs and cushions, impassive,
indolent, dignified, drinking their coffee or smoking their tobacco,
conversing gravely or counting the amber beads of their comboloios. The
Sultan owns the Holy Sepulchre; but he is a liberal host and permits all
factions of Christendom to visit it and celebrate their rites in turn,
provided only they do not beat or kill one another in their devotions.
We saw his silent sentinels of tolerance scattered in every part of the
vast, confused edifice.

The interior was dim and shadowy. Opposite the entrance was the Stone of
Unction, a marble slab on which it is said the body of Christ was
anointed when it was taken down from the cross. Pilgrim after pilgrim
came kneeling to this stone, and bending to kiss it, beneath the Latin,
Greek, Armenian and Coptic lamps which hang above it by silver chains.

The Chapel of the Crucifixion was on our right, above us, in the second
story of the church. We climbed the steep flight of stairs and stood in
a little room, close, obscure, crowded with lamps and icons and
candelabra, incrusted with ornaments of gold and silver, full of strange
odours and glimmerings of mystic light. There, they told us, in front of
that rich altar was the silver star which marked the place in the rock
where t