al and true, but will tell you the most marvellous
stories, which you cannot believe. He will show you the grave of
Moses, and I am told that the Scriptures say, "No man knoweth where
his grave is;" yet, if you doubt, the guide feels hurt. He will ask
you to harken to the "going in the mulberries," and if you say you
don't hear he is surprised.

[Illustration: LEPERS IN JERUSALEM.]

I made no notes of Jerusalem, for I did not and do not intend to write
of it. It was well done long ago by a man equally innocent and more
abroad, and has not changed much since. The Turks are still on guard
at the cradle and the grave of Christ, to try and keep the devout
Christians from spattering up the walls with each other's blood. The
lamps have been carefully and nearly equally divided between the
Greeks, Catholics, and Armenians, as well as the space around and the
time for worship.

What strikes the traveller most forcibly on seeing Jerusalem for the
first time is the littleness of everything. The Mount of Olives is a
little mound; Mount Moriah is a scarcely perceptible rise of ground;
Mount Zion is a gentle hill; the valley of Jehoshaphat is a deep, ugly
gulch, with scarcely enough water in it to wet a postage stamp: and
the Tyropoeon Valley is an alley. Then you look at the unspeakable
poverty, the dreariness, the miles of piles of hueless rocks, and are
interested. The desert is interesting because it is desolate, but it
is an awful interest. The people--the beggars that hound you--are as
poor, as dwarfed and deformed as the gnarled trees that try to live on
the naked rocks.

One day in a narrow street we met two women who nearly blocked the
way.

"They are lepers!" cried the guide, pushing me by them. I started to
run, for never had the voice of man thrilled and filled me with such
fear; but, remembering my photographic machine, I had the guide throw
them some coin, and made a picture, but not a good one. I was
surprised that the poor beggar near whose feet the money fell made no
effort to pick it up, but continued to pray to us, and waited for her
companion. Then I saw that there were no fingers on her hands.

THE EARLIEST PORTRAIT OF LINCOLN

LETTERS IN REGARD TO THE FRONTISPIECE OF THE NOVEMBER MCCLURE'S.

FROM THE HON. THOMAS M. COOLEY, for many years Chief Justice of the
Supreme Court of Michigan, and the first Chairman of the Inter-State
Commerce Commission.

ANN ARBOR, MICHIGAN, _October 24, 1895._