the Superior of the Latin Convent, and we Greek Monks. There were some
Turkish ladies in the interior of the mosque, so that we could not gain
admittance, and therefore did not see the rock containing the foot-prints
of Christ, who, according to Moslem tradition, ascended to heaven from
this spot. The Mohammedans, it may not be generally known, accept the
history of Christ, except his crucifixion, believing that he passed to
heaven without death, another person being crucified in his stead. They
call him the _Roh-Allah,_ or Spirit of God, and consider him, after
Mahomet, as the holiest of the Prophets.

We ascended to the gallery of the minaret. The city lay opposite, so
fairly spread out to our view that almost every house might be separately
distinguished. It is a mass of gray buildings, with dome-roofs, and but
for the mosques of Omar and El Aksa, with the courts and galleries around
them, would be exceedingly tame in appearance. The only other prominent
points are the towers of the Holy Sepulchre, the citadel, enclosing
Herod's Tower, and the mosque on mount Zion. The Turkish wall, with its
sharp angles, its square bastions, and the long, embrasured lines of its
parapet, is the most striking feature of the view. Stony hills stretch
away from the city on all sides, at present cheered with tracts of
springing wheat, but later in the season, brown and desolate. In the
south, the convent of St. Elias is visible, and part of the little town of
Bethlehem. I passed to the eastern side of the gallery, and looking
thence, deep down among the sterile mountains, beheld a long sheet of blue
water, its southern extremity vanishing in a hot, sulphury haze. The
mountains of Ammon and Moab, which formed the background of my first view
of Jerusalem, leaned like a vast wall against the sky, beyond the
mysterious sea and the broad valley of the Jordan. The great depression of
this valley below the level of the Mediterranean gives it a most
remarkable character. It appears even deeper than is actually the case,