CHAPTER XXIV.

_Horse-races at Florence.--Excursion to Vallombrosa.--Mountain scenery.--The monastery.--Wild and secluded situation.--Life of the monks.--Travelling on foot in Italy.--Things not seen there.--Manners of the children.--Beauty of the skies.-- Comparison with things in America._

The grand duke of Tuscany had just been married and was celebrating his wedding at Florence, by all sorts of public shows. There were fireworks, balls, and entertainments of every description, among which were horse-races. These last are singular exhibitions: the horses are raced through the streets, in the very centre of the city, and without riders--a procedure which we should think very hazardous. In fact, it often happens that people are killed by the sport. The streets being paved with smooth flat stones, on which a horse cannot run without danger of slipping, the whole extent of the race-course is strown with earth, and the streets leading into it are closed by barriers. A dozen horses are started at a time, bearing spurs instead of riders. These spurs consist of leaden bullets set full of sharp points and attached loosely to the horse’s back by cords. When the animal runs, the bullets fly up and down, striking their sharp points into his hide at every step, and goading him onward with great pain. At the moment of starting, the whole race-course is blocked up with a dense throng of spectators, who open to the right and left, as the horses approach, leaving a narrow lane in the middle of the street, through which they gallop, often to the imminent danger of the populace. I saw several exhibitions of this sort; but, although the Italians thought them remarkable for the speed of the animals, it did not appear to me that they were any way distinguished for their fleetness. A horse without a rider has less weight to carry, and might be supposed to run faster on that account; but he lacks the incitement and encouragement which his rider can infuse into him. The Florentines, however, seemed to enjoy the sport mightily, and rent the air with shouts and halloos, waving their handkerchiefs and swinging their hats, as the horses brushed by them in the crowd, to frighten them onward.

I made another excursion from Florence to visit the celebrated monastery of Vallombrosa, about twenty miles distant, among the Appenines. The road ran, for about a dozen miles, up the valley of the Arno, and I was enchanted with the beautifully variegated aspect of the country. It was everywhere broken and hilly; olive trees and vineyards were abundant, and the gardens exhibited the richest culture. Within about six miles of Vallombrosa, the road becomes too steep and rugged for carriages, and here I found the forest trees begin to appear for the first time. Below, the country is clear of wood, with the exception of the olive and mulberry and other fruit trees of moderate height. On the steeps of the mountains, which I was now ascending, I met with many chestnuts and oaks, which appeared quite lofty in comparison with the trees I had formerly seen here, although they were much inferior in size to those of the same family in America. As I continued to ascend, the woods became thicker, and abounded in walnuts and firs. By the name _walnut_, the reader must not understand the shagbark, or hickory tree of America, which does not grow in Europe; but the tree producing the fruit known in our country as the _English walnut_, although it grows in almost every part of Europe, particularly in the south. The path grew still more steep and rugged, and the woods thicker, until at length they exhibited much of the savage aspect of a forest. In the midst of this wild scenery, the monastery burst on my view, perched on the side of a mountain, and overhung by the towering Appenines, dark and frowning, with shaggy woods.

The situation of the abbey of Vallombrosa is most striking and romantic. Lonely, remote, and secluded, it stands in an amphitheatre of wild mountains, so greatly variegated in scenery, that Milton, who spent much of his time in this place, has copied it accurately in his description of Paradise. This enchanting spot, as his verses beautifully describe,

“Crowns with her enclosure green, As with a rural mound, the champion head Of a steep wilderness, whose hairy sides, With thicket overgrown, grotesque and wild, Access denied; and overhead up-grew Insuperable height of loftiest shade, Cedar and pine and fir, and branching palm, A sylvan scene; and as the ranks ascend, Shade above shade, a woody theatre Of stateliest view.”

The convent commands a most enchanting prospect down the vale: above, the view is bounded by the dark forests on the mountain-tops. A little stream tumbles in a fine cascade down the sides of the mountain, into a deep dell between these steep heights and the green lawn in which the convent is situated. Still higher up, and overlooking the convent, stands a hermitage, called Paradisino, perched, like an eagle’s nest, on a steep and projecting cliff. From this point, the prospect is still more extensive than from the convent. The eye traverses over a wide range of country towards the west. Ridge after ridge of blue heights appear down the valley, till the towers and domes of Florence strike the sight, at a distance, with the Mediterranean in dim perspective, far beyond. Close at your feet are the buildings of the convent, with a bright green lawn and a black girdle of pine forest around them, the dell, the water-fall, and the savage height of the Appenines clothed with woods to the top.

The inmates of the convent have no neighbors, for they live out of the way of the world. No public road passes by their doors, and it is not often that a visiter toils up the steep path that leads to their lonely abode. A few farm-houses and hamlets are scattered here and there in the valley below, but few inhabitants are to be seen. Those who love retirement may find Vallombrosa a desirable summer residence; but in winter, the snows and fogs confine the monks within doors. It is even said that the woods abound in bears and wolves, which in that season carry their depredations to the convent doors. Yet here, in this wild solitude, at an almost inaccessible height, I found a degree of splendor and luxury, which seemed not at all in unison with the character of the spot. The chapel of the convent was adorned with costly pillars of marble, paintings, and other ornaments, and the monks entertained me with as rich a dinner as I could have found at the Tremont House. It is very clear that their penances and mortifications stop short of the stomach. I may add, that the worthy friar, who did the honors of the house, had no scruple in pocketing a crown, which I offered him, in payment for his civilities.

Highly gratified with this pleasant excursion to the beautiful “_shady vale_,” I descended the mountain and reached the little town of Pelago, at the foot of the steepest part of the road, just as a heavy shower came on. I found a small inn here, the landlord of which was very civil and communicative. He told me that much rain fell upon the mountains, and advised me to put off my return to the city till the next day; a counsel which I was prudent enough to accept. The rain continued through the night, but the morning was clear, and I had a delicious walk down the Arno to Florence. The reader may possibly wonder that I ventured to travel about the country to such distances on foot, and may have his head full of robbers and banditti. But the truth is, a man is in no more danger of being robbed in Italy than in the United States; and a pedestrian runs the least hazard, for a robber would have small expectation of plunder from him.

It is interesting for a traveller to note down, not only what he sees, but also what he does _not_ see. I did not see such a thing as a wheelbarrow, or a handcart, in all Tuscany; nor do I believe such things were ever known there. The “animal of all work,” the donkey, supplies the place of both. At Rome, indeed, they had some clumsy things which they meant for wheelbarrows; but even these nobody knew how to use. Heavy burthens are carried through the streets on men’s heads. I never saw a pudding on the table in this country, and though the Italians have heard of it, they know no more of the real thing than we do of their favorite delicacy of fried toadstools. I do not remember seeing any weathercocks, except on the saddles of the carriage-horses at Naples, where I imagine they were meant rather for ornament than use. The cheerfulness of an Italian does not depend so much as ours on the direction of the wind, and he has not occasion to look out his window every morning at the church steeple, to know whether he is to be happy or miserable through the day. Pumps are nowhere to be seen, with the exception of one at Florence. Fountains are abundant at Rome and Naples, but in Florence, Pisa and most other cities of the north, the inhabitants depend for water on their wells. To this list of varieties may be added another item that will sound oddly to the reader; namely, squalling children--for in all my residence in this country, I do not remember to have heard a child cry. This I explain by the fact, that young children, from their very earliest age, are made to spend most of their time in the open air: they have, consequently, better health, and their attention is occupied and amused by a greater variety of objects than is the case with those in our country, where constant confinement within doors, makes them sickly and peevish. Nothing, indeed, is more remarkable than the cheerfulness, vivacity and intelligence of the little boys and girls in Italy, and the readiness they display to join in the company of strangers. They are not frightened at a new face, as we commonly expect children to be. The good behavior, too, of the young lads about the streets, is worthy of note: they are never seen at fisticuffs, or engaged in riotous or rude proceedings, but address one another with a degree of politeness, which, to a stranger, has almost an appearance of mock-gravity.

Florence is generally regarded the most agreeable city in Italy for a constant residence. The climate is cooler than that of Rome, but I think it warm enough to suit travellers from America. The police of the country is strict, and there is sometimes embarrassment and delay about passports, but, in general, every accommodation is afforded to travellers; and the public officers are uniformly respectful and obliging. All foreigners must take out a permit to reside in the country, which is renewed from time to time; for this a slight fee is charged, the amount of which goes to the poor.

Six or eight miles out of the city is a country seat of the grand duke, called Pratolino, much visited by travellers on account of a colossal statue in one of the gardens. The statue is of brick, and hollow. I mounted into the head which is large enough to contain half a dozen men; from this the size of the whole figure may be estimated; though I should add that it is not quite erect, but in a crouching posture. The environs of Florence offer a great variety of objects, to occupy the time of a traveller, and I do not wonder that foreigners generally give this spot the preference in their choice of a residence in Italy.

We are accustomed to hear much of the beauty of Italian skies; and as these descriptions come chiefly from the hands of the English, who live in an atmosphere darkened by clouds and fogs, it is no wonder that the bright sun and transparent air of Italy should fill them with delight. The brightness of the skies, however, does not surpass that of our own country, in the finest season, though it is true, the fine season of Italy is much longer than that of New England. In summer, the air in Italy is uniformly dry, and the sky clear or occasionally diversified with clouds. There are no fogs, no sudden changes from hot to cold, except in crossing the mountains. The night dews do not threaten you with colds and coughs, and you may generally sleep with the windows open. The moonlight and starlight evenings are serenely beautiful, but not more so than with us. For magnificent sunsets we far surpass the Italians. The sun there goes down in a clear sky, with a rich golden tint in the west; but they have nothing equal to our autumnal sunsets, when the sky is arrayed in those gorgeous purple clouds which light up half the heavens with their brilliant and dazzling flames. In thunder and lightning, moreover, their sky never affords anything approaching to the grandeur and sublimity of ours; at least, I witnessed nothing of the kind, during all the summer and autumn which I passed in this country. I missed, also, in my rambles about the country, the fresh and fragrant smell of the woods, which is so grateful to the senses of the traveller in our territories. Nowhere, excepting on the mountain-tops, and rarely even there, do we see thick woods, or anything exhibiting the wildness of nature and the freshness of a virgin soil. This, indeed, is hardly to be expected in a country which has been inhabited, by populous nations, for four thousand years, who have been all that time cutting down the woods and building cities.

The grain mostly cultivated in Tuscany is wheat: other grains are raised in small proportions, but wheaten bread constitutes the chief food of the population. Some Indian corn is seen, but much less than in Piedmont and Lombardy, where it grows so abundantly that I have known cargoes brought down the Po and shipped from Venice to Boston. This, however, was in 1836, when corn was above a dollar a bushel. Potatoes are rarely seen in Italy, but the Italians always cook them well. Next to bread, the most important article of food for the common people, is _faggioli_, or horse-beans, of which they consume immense quantities. They are not only raised in the country, but imported by shiploads from Egypt. The Yankee white beans they know nothing of. Garden vegetables are produced in great variety, and their carrots are enormous in size. An apple tree I never saw here, but the country affords them: the fruit, however, is not much esteemed, nor worth esteeming. No other apples are equal to those of America. I observed many times a singular article on the table, at the dessert, namely, raw string-beans, which the Italians ate, pod and all, with a great relish, but I thought them altogether unpalatable.

_Boston, July 20th, 1842._ MR. MERRY:

The riddle in the June number of the Museum, sent by “Harriett” of Newport, is one of the most ingenious I ever read. I have puzzled over it a great deal, and at last I think I have found the solution, viz., _Abracadabra_. It will be seen that this mystic word answers to all the conditions of the riddle. Will not your fair correspondent tell us who the celebrated author of this clever puzzle is? R. N.

A Melancholy Event.

I suppose all my young readers know that the name of the present king of France is Louis Philippe. He was the son of the duke of Orleans, a very wicked man, who lived in the time of the French Revolution, and voted in the French Assembly for the death of his relation, Louis XVI. This infamous man, who took the name of Mons. Equality, to please the people, however took good care to educate his children well, and for this purpose, he employed Mad. de Genlis, the author of the Tales of the Castle, and other delightful books, to be their teacher. Under her care, Louis Philippe grew up a well-instructed and virtuous young man.

During the revolution he was obliged to fly from France for safety, and for many years he wandered about in different lands. At one time he came to this country, and in Switzerland he taught mathematics to young people. Only think of it--this schoolmaster is now a king! After Bonaparte was put down in 1815, the family of Louis Philippe was restored to the throne, and he returned with them to Paris. In 1830 another revolution broke out. To restore quiet and good order, our friend La Fayette advised the people to make schoolmaster Philippe their king. They took this advice, and he has reigned in France since 1830. He is esteemed one of the most wise and talented sovereigns of the whole world; and no doubt his good education under Mad. de Genlis--his misfortunes in early life--the course of events which compelled him to earn his own living--his teaching school, thereby acquiring the habit of governing himself and others--all together, have made him so good and great a king. If he had been brought up like most other kings, indulged in everything--spoiled by flattery and the habit of thinking himself a great deal better than other people--no doubt he had been a far less wise and useful man.

But I must now speak of Louis Philippe’s eldest son, the duke of Orleans. He was a fine, amiable man, born about the year 1810, married to a German princess, and having several young children. He was heir to the throne of France, and being very amiable, was not only dear to his parents and friends, but to the whole French people. But alas! nothing can ensure safety in this world--not even youth, and health, and wealth, and power, and high hopes, and a nation’s love! On the 13th of June, the duke was going in a coach to Neuilly, a few miles from Paris, to see his parents, and take leave of them, for he was a soldier, and was about to go and review some troops at St. Omer.

On the way to Neuilly the horses of the coach took fright and ran away. The duke jumped out of the carriage, and falling heavily on the ground, struck his head, and was so much injured as to die in a few hours. The king, his father, and the queen, his mother, and princes, and generals, and famous physicians came, but tears and prayers and medicines could not save him. The whole French nation seemed to be in mourning; for they loved the prince, and expected, on his father’s death, that he would be their king.

The eldest son of the duke of Orleans, a boy about four years old, is now heir to the throne of France, and when Louis Philippe dies, he is to succeed him. If he should be still a boy, when the king dies, a regent will be appointed to carry on the government in his name, till he is a man.

“IT was once in my power to shoot Gen. Washington,” said a British soldier to an American. “Why, then, did you not shoot him?” said the other; “you ought to have done so for the benefit of your own countrymen.” “The death of Washington would not have been for their benefit,” replied the Englishman; “for we depended upon him to treat our prisoners kindly, and we’d sooner have killed an officer of our army.”

[Illustration: THE HIPPOPOTAMUS.]

MERRY’S MUSEUM.

VOLUME IV.--No. 4

SKETCHES OF BIBLE SCENES.

[Illustration]

Bethesda.

This place was rendered very interesting to all Christians, by the miracle performed there by our Saviour, which is recorded in the fifth chapter of St. John. Multitudes of pilgrims and travellers have from age to age, flocked to Jerusalem eager to see the place where Jesus bid the impotent man, “rise, take up his bed and walk.”

The pool of Bethesda is described as a pool by the sheep market, which is called Bethesda, having five porches; the word Bethesda meaning the place where victims for sacrifice were purified; and it is believed that the sheep for sacrifice were washed in Bethesda before being led away to the temple; and as sacrifices were very frequently offered, it is natural to suppose that both the sheep market and the pool were near the temple. Another explanation is that it signifies the “House of Mercy,” from the healing quality of its waters.

Within the present walls of Jerusalem are two fountains; the lower one, into which the waters of the upper one flow, through a passage cut in the rock, is the celebrated pool or fountain of Siloam. There has always existed a tradition that the waters of Siloam flowed irregularly; but Dr. Robinson, who first visited it, says “that as he was standing on the lower step near the water, with one foot on a loose stone lying near it, all at once he perceived the water coming into his shoe, and, supposing the stone had rolled, he withdrew his foot to the step, which, however, was now also covered with water. In less than five minutes the water bubbled up from under the lower step, and in five minutes it had risen nearly a foot in the basin, and it could be heard gurgling off through the interior passage. In ten minutes it ceased to flow, and the water was again reduced to its former level.

“Meanwhile, a woman came to wash at the fountain. She frequented the place every day, and said that the water flowed at irregular intervals, sometimes being quite dry, the men and flocks dependent upon it suffering from thirst, when, all at once, the water would boil up from under the steps, and flow in a copious stream. The ignorant people say that a dragon lies within the fountain; when he awakes, he stops the water; when he sleeps, it flows.”

In the scriptural account, we are told that “an angel went down, at a certain season, into the pool, and troubled the waters,” and then, whosoever first stepped in was made whole. Does not this “troubling of the waters,” look like the irregular flow of the fountain just described?

Jerusalem.

Jerusalem is the metropolis of the province of Judea, and one of the most remarkable cities in the world. Manetho, an Egyptian historian, says it was founded by the shepherds who once invaded Egypt in great numbers; but who these shepherds were, is still a mystery. The first we know of it, however, with any good degree of certainty, is in the time of Melchizedeck, who lived in the days of Abraham. It was then called Salem. Josephus says it was the capital of Melchizedeck’s kingdom.

After this, it became the metropolis of the people called Jebusites. Its name, at that time, was Jebus. When the Israelites, under Joshua, attempted to take the city, they found the Jebusites too strong for them, and could only take that part of it which was divided between the tribes of Judah and Benjamin. David, however, completely conquered it, and made it the capital of his own kingdom. This is one reason why Jerusalem is sometimes called the “City of David.”

Under David and his son Solomon, Jerusalem rose to a very high degree of splendor. It is in thirty-one degrees fifty minutes north latitude, and thirty-five degrees twenty minutes east longitude; being about twenty-five miles west of the river Jordan, forty-two east of the Mediterranean Sea, one hundred and two south of Damascus, and one hundred and fifty north of the eastern branch of the Red Sea. It was built on four hills: Zion, Acra, Moriah, and Bezetha; but Moriah, on the east, and Zion, on the south-west, are the principal. It was surrounded by a strong wall, forty or fifty feet high. The general form of the city is at present nearly a heptagon, or figure with seven sides.

The glory of the city Jerusalem was its temple. The pattern of building the temple was given by David to his son Solomon; David himself not being permitted by God to erect it. He, however, made great preparations for it. He and his princes made vast contributions for the purpose; amounting, it is said, to more than one thousand millions of pounds sterling. Solomon, who was the man selected by divine appointment, employed one hundred eighty-four thousand men--a number equal to all the grown men who are able to labor in the whole state of Massachusetts--about seven years in completing this mighty work. When completed, the temple occupied, within its walls, about thirty-one acres of ground; and was unquestionably one of the most costly edifices of its size, that the world ever saw. To it, every male Jew was required to go twice a year to perform worship.

[Illustration: _View of Jerusalem._]

But the glory of this costly edifice lasted only thirty-four years; for, during the reign of Rohoboam, the son and successor of Solomon, Shishak, king of Egypt, seized and pillaged it, and carried away its treasures. Indeed, the city of Jerusalem was several times taken, during those early periods, and sometimes it was burnt; but it was as often rebuilt.

About six hundred and two years before Christ, Nebuchadnezzar, king of Egypt, invaded Palestine, and threatened the destruction of the city and temple; but was prevented from effecting his object by the submission of Jehoiakim, the king. Efforts being made, soon after, however, to throw off the yoke, Nebuchadnezzar again appeared with his army before the city, and, after a siege of fifteen or sixteen months, took it, and laid both the temple and the whole city in ashes. This was B. C. 590.

About B. C. 530, by permission of Cyrus, Jerusalem began to be rebuilt under Nehemiah, and repeopled; but the walls were not completed till B. C. 456. The temple was also rebuilt, by Zerubbabel; but this last temple was never so splendid as the former.

The city itself was again destroyed, many years afterward, by Ptolemy. It met with a similar fate still later, from Antiochus Epiphanes, who slew forty thousand of the people, and made slaves of as many more. It was rebuilt by Judas Maccabeus, and in the time of our Savior was somewhat flourishing. But about A. D. 70, after a dreadful siege of two years, by the Romans, during which the inhabitants suffered so much from famine as to eat, in some instances, the dead bodies of their friends, the city was taken, and, according to the prediction of our Savior, nearly forty years before, it was made a heap of ruins. The temple was completely destroyed, so that not one stone lay upon another; and the ground where it had stood, was ploughed up. Even the name of the city was changed.

Adrian, another Roman emperor, undertook afterwards to rebuild the city, but his plan only partially succeeded. In the mean time, he banished all the Jews, forbidding their return. Constantine the Great, enlarged the city, and restored its ancient name.

Since that time the fate of Jerusalem has been various and singular. In 614, the Persians captured it; and in the capture, ninety thousand Christians were slain. In 637 it was seized by the Saracens, who held it till 1079, when the Seljukian Turks got possession of it. After the Crusades, the Ottoman Turks became its masters; and these own it at the present day.

We have already represented Jerusalem as standing upon several eminences, and surrounded by a wall, forty or fifty feet high. Towers rose at various places on these walls, some of them to the height of one hundred, or one hundred twenty feet. The length of the wall, or circumference of the city, about the time of Christ, must have been, according to the best accounts, about four miles and a half. It was very thickly populated; containing, as some suppose, nearly three million inhabitants. This may be too high an estimate; but the population was certainly very large. One evidence of its great population is the fact, that there were in it, at this time, nearly five hundred Jewish synagogues. At present, Jerusalem contains five synagogues, eleven mosques, and twenty monasteries.

But Jerusalem is very far from being now what it once was. Instead of containing millions of inhabitants, as some suppose it formerly did, it scarcely contains twenty thousand. Of these, perhaps ten thousand are Mohammedans, six thousand are Jews, two thousand are Greeks, one thousand five hundred Catholics, and five hundred Armenians. Instead of being four and a half miles in circumference, the city scarcely measures two miles and two thirds. The following spirited account of Jerusalem, as it now is, is from the “Modern Traveller.”

When seen from the valley of Jehoshaphat, Jerusalem presents an inclined plane, descending from west to east. An embattled wall, fortified with towers, and a Gothic castle, compasses the city all round, excluding, however, a part of Mount Zion, which it formerly enclosed. In the western quarter, and in the centre of the city, the houses stand very close; but in the eastern part, along (towards) the brook Kidron, you perceive vacant spaces.

The houses of Jerusalem are heavy, square masses, very low, without chimneys or windows. They have flat terraces or domes on the top, and look like prisons or sepulchres. The whole would appear to the eye one uninterrupted level, did not the steeples of the churches, the minarets of the mosques, and the summits of a few cypresses, break the uniformity of the plan. On beholding these stone buildings, in the midst of a stony country, you are ready to inquire if they are not the confused monuments of a cemetery in the midst of a desert.

Enter the city; and you will find nothing there to make amends for the dulness of its exterior. You lose yourself among narrow, unpaved streets, here going up hill, there down, from the inequality of the ground, and you walk among clouds of dust, or loose stones. Canvas stretched from house to house, increases the gloom. Bazars, roofed over, and fraught with infection, completely exclude the light from the desolate city. A few paltry shops expose nothing but wretchedness to view; and even these are frequently shut from apprehension of the passage of a cadi.

Not a creature is to be seen in the streets, not a creature at the gates, except now and then a peasant gliding through the gloom, concealing under his garments the fruits of his labor, lest he should be robbed of his hard earnings by the rapacious soldier.

Aside, in a corner, the Arab butcher is slaughtering some animal, suspended by the legs, from a wall in ruins. From his haggard and ferocious look, and his bloody hands, you would suppose that he had been cutting the throat of a fellow-creature, rather than killing a lamb.

The only noise heard from time to time in the city, is the galloping of the steed of the desert: it is the Janissary, who brings the head of the Bedouin, or who returns from plundering the unhappy Fellah.

Here reside (that is, among the ruins of Jerusalem) communities of Christian monks, whom nothing can compel to forsake the tomb of Christ; neither plunder, nor personal ill-treatment, nor menaces of death itself. Night and day they chant their hymns around the holy sepulchre.

Driven by the cudgel and the sabre, women, children, flocks, and herds, seek refuge in the cloisters of these recluses. What prevents the armed oppressor from pursuing his prey, and overthrowing such feeble ramparts? It is the charity of the monks; they deprive themselves of the last resources of life, to ransom their supplicants.

Cast your eyes between the temple and Mount Zion. Behold another petty tribe, (the Jews,) cut off from the rest of the inhabitants of this city! These people bow their heads without murmuring; they endure every kind of insult, without demanding justice; they sink beneath repeated blows without sighing; if their head be required, they present it to the cimeter. On the death of any member of this proscribed community, his companion goes at night, and inters him, by stealth, in the shadow of Solomon’s temple.

Enter the abodes of these people. You will find them, amidst the most abject wretchedness, instructing their children to read a (to them) mysterious book, which they in their turn will teach to their offspring. What they did five thousand years ago, this people still continue to do. Seventeen times have they witnessed the destruction of Jerusalem, yet nothing can discourage them, nothing can prevent them from turning their faces towards Zion.

To see the Jews scattered over the whole world, according to the word of God, must, doubtless, excite surprise. But to be struck with astonishment, you must view them at Jerusalem; you must behold these rightful masters of Judea, living as slaves and strangers in their own country; you must behold them expecting, under all oppressions, a king who is to deliver them.

We will only mention, in conclusion of this article, that the most ancient as well as most splendid edifice in the whole modern city of Jerusalem, is the mosque of Omar. It stands on Mount Moriah, precisely--it is supposed--where once stood the temple of Solomon. It is one thousand four hundred eighty-nine feet--more than a quarter of a mile!--long, and nine hundred ninety-five feet broad. It was built A. D. 636, and has, therefore, stood exactly one thousand two hundred years. It is, indeed, rather a collection of mosques, than a single one. The whole is included in two grand divisions; the Sakhara, in the centre, and the Akhsa, on the south side.

[Illustration]

Valley of Jehoshaphat.

Jehoshaphat is a narrow valley or glen, which runs from north to south, between the city of Jerusalem or Mount Moriah, on which it stands, on the one side, and Gethsemane and the Mount of Olives, on the other. The brook Kidron, or Cedron, runs through this valley; on which account it was sometimes called the valley of Kidron. It had also several other names, among which were “the Vale of Shevah,” the “King’s Dale,” &c.

This glen received its more common name from the fact, that Jehoshaphat, one of the kings of Judah, erected a most magnificent tomb in it. It abounds with monuments, ancient and modern, and appears to have served as a burying-place to the inhabitants of Jerusalem for many ages. The Jews think so highly of being buried there, that it is said they resort thither to die, from all parts of the world; and, for such a privilege, sometimes pay to the merciless Turks, who own the soil, almost its weight in gold.

There are three monuments pointed out here, which are of particular interest; those of Absalom, Zechariah, and Jehoshaphat. A traveller thus describes them.

“The first mentioned is a square mass of rock, hewn down into form, and separated from the quarry out of which it was cut, by a passage of twelve or fifteen feet on three of its sides; the fourth or western front being open towards the valley, and to Mount Moriah; the foot of which is only a few yards distant. This huge stone is eight paces in length on each side, and about twenty high in the front and ten feet high at the back; the hill on which it stands having a steep ascent. It has four semi-columns cut out of the same rock, on each of its faces, with a pilaster at each angle, all of a mixed Ionic order, and ornamented in bad taste.

“In the immediate vicinity is the tomb of Jehoshaphat, a cavern which is more commonly called the Grotto of the Disciples, from an idea that the disciples of our Savior went frequently thither to be taught by their Master. The front of this excavation has two Doric pillars, of small size, but of just proportions. In the interior are three chambers, all of them rude and irregular in their form, in one of which were several grave-stones, removed, we may suppose, from the open ground, for greater security.

“Opposite to this is the reputed tomb of Absalom, resembling nearly, in the size, form, and description of its square base, that of Zechariah. This is surmounted by a sharp conical dome, having large mouldings running round its base, and on the summit something like an imitation of flame.”

Here is also shown what is called the tomb of the Virgin Mary, and the pit where the Jews say the sacred fire was hid during the Babylonian captivity; together with many more objects which arrest the attention of the traveller; and which, though they give no certain information, serve greatly to interest him.

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Joppa, or Jaffa.

This is one of the most ancient seaports in the world. It is situated on a fine plain, on the coast of the Mediterranean Sea, forty-five miles west of Jerusalem. It is believed to have existed before the deluge; to be the city where Noah built his ark; whence Jonah embarked from Tarshish, where he was thrown overboard and swallowed by a whale. It was the port used by Solomon to receive timber from Tyre for the building of the temple. It is now much reduced in importance, being only a small Turkish town on the shores of the Mediterranean, built on a little eminence projecting into the sea, and containing a population of from ten to fifteen thousand Turks, Arabs, Jews, and Christians. It has a fine climate, and a fine country around it, and the orange gardens are the finest on the shores of the Mediterranean. Although it is the seaport of Jerusalem, its harbor has always been bad, and the vessels that anchor there are often wrecked in the storms.

The modern city has nothing in its history to interest the traveller. He must stand on the shore, and fill the little harbor with the Tarshish; or, imagine Noah entering the ark with his family, by whom the earth was to be repeopled; or wander through the narrow streets to seek for the house of Tabitha, whom Peter raised from the dead, or that of Simon, the tanner, where Peter tarried many days.

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Mount Carmel.

Mount Carmel is a tall promontory forming the termination of a range of hills, in the northern part of Palestine, and towards the sea. It is fifteen hundred feet high, and is famous for its caverns, which are said to be more than a thousand in number. Most of them are in the western part of it. Here also was the cave of the prophet Elijah. Both Elijah and Elisha used to resort to this mountain, and here it was that the former opposed the prophet of Baal with such success. Here it was, too, that this prophet went up, when he told his servant to look forth toward the sea yet seven times, and the seventh time he saw a cloud coming from the sea “like a man’s hand”--when the prophet knew the promised rain was at hand, and girded up his loins and ran before Ahab’s chariot even to the gates of Jezreel. (See 1 Kings xviii. 4-46.)

Merry’s Adventures.