if we go south-eastward from it we descend a steep and rocky path,
from which can be caught the first and finest vision of what stands
on the other hill to the east. The great Mosque of Omar stands
up like a peacock, lustrous with mosaics that are like plumes
of blue and green.

Scholars, I may say here, object to calling it the Mosque of Omar;
on the petty and pedantic ground that it is not a mosque and was
not built by Omar. But it is my fixed intention to call it
the Mosque of Omar, and with ever renewed pertinacity to continue
calling it the Mosque of Omar. I possess a special permit from
the Grand Mufti to call it the Mosque of Omar. He is the head
of the whole Moslem religion, and if he does not know, who does?
He told me, in the beautiful French which matches his beautiful manners,
that it really is not so ridiculous after all to call the place
the Mosque of Omar, since the great Caliph desired and even designed
such a building, though he did not build it. I suppose it is
rather as if Solomon's Temple had been called David's Temple.
Omar was a great man and the Mosque was a great work, and the two were
telescoped together by the excellent common sense of vulgar tradition.
There could not be a better example of that great truth for
all travellers; that popular tradition is never so right as when it
is wrong; and that pedantry is never so wrong as when it is right.
And as for the other objection, that the Dome of the Rock
(to give it its other name) is not actually used as a Mosque, I
answer that Westminster Abbey is not used as an Abbey.
But modern Englishmen would be much surprised if I were to refer to it
as Westminster Church; to say nothing of the many modern Englishmen
for whom it would be more suitable to call it Westminster Museum.
And for whatever purposes the Moslems may actually use their