supposed to be the same as the ancient Arimathea, to which that Joseph belonged, who, having begged the body of Jesus from Pilate, took it down from the cross, wrapped it in linen of cloth, and laid it in his own new sepulchre. The monks here have a tradition that their chapel is built on the site of the house wherein he dwelt. Ramah contains no antiquities of consequence; but at a short distance out of the town, towards the north-east, is a lofty tower or minaret, called the Tower of the Forty Martyrs; so called from its having once formed part (the belfry) of the monastery dedicated to the Forty who suffered martyrdom for their faith, at Sebaste in Armenia. It is ascended by a flight of one hundred and twenty-five stone steps, and a magnificent view unfolds itself on reaching the top, extending over the valley of Sharon, bounded on the east by the mountains which "stand round about Jerusalem;" on the west by the Mediterra66 Great Sea," nean, or and open to the north The Mediterranean is so called by way of eminence in Numb. iv. 6, and elsewhere. In Exod. xxii. 31, it is called the sea of the Philistines, because their country bordered on its shores. and south. The church to which it was formerly attached was subsequently converted into a mosque by Saffr-ed-din, one of the sultans of Egypt; but it is no longer in existence, except as a beautiful ruin. Not far from the tower are the remains of a large vaulted reservoir, the roof of which, perforated to admit the rain, was supported by arches and pillars. From the style of its architecture it appears to have been a work of the Saracens, though attributed by the natives to the mother of Constantine. The whole of these ruins formerly stood within the town, which prove that in better days, it must have been three or four miles in circumference. Indeed, lying as it does on the high road, from Jaffa to Jerusalem, it must at all times have been a great place of resort, and the fertility of the surrounding country would necessarily have increased its importance. At ten, P.M., we continued our journey on to Jerusalem. At this season of the year it is usually performed at night, to avoid the heats, there not being any inhabited villages on the road, and scarcely any trees sufficiently large to afford shelter from the scorching rays of the sun. Moreover, by starting at this hour, we expected to get rid of the motley crew that had fallen into our train on leaving Jaffa. It is true that we had no reason to complain of their conduct towards ourselves; nevertheless, as there was in it, so little manifestation of a feeling in unison with the professed object of their pilgrimage, we thought that the quiet course of our reflections, on approaching the "city of the soul," could but experience interruption from their preOur party was therefore reduced to what it originally was on landing, viz.: M. de Cadalvene and myself, our servants, and two or three others. sence. 66 Having travelled five or six miles over a fertile but uncultivated plain, we came to the foot of a chain of mountains, forming the commencement of the district so simply described in the Gospel as the "hill country of Judæa." A little beyond the ruined village of Amoas we entered a pass called Bab-elWady, or Gate of the Plain." We had so far enjoyed the light of the moon, but here, the mountains throwing their broad shadows across the defile, it became impossible to see our way for many yards before us. As to following the track, it was a matter I abandoned to the better discernment of my mule; so dropping the bridle on his neck, I declined all further interference in his movements. The road, for about three hours from hence, is perpetually winding amongst a series of conical hills, of no great elevation, but rugged and abrupt, and all meeting at their bases. In passing along the dry stony bed of a winter torrent, an accident occurred, which nearly proved fatal to one of the party. He was taking the lead, as we advanced in single file, when the mule on which he was mounted suddenly stopped short, in the darkest and most intricate part of the pass. Being urged on by his rider, and unable to retreat, on account of those who followed, he leapt upon a rock standing high out of the road, and looked down aghast at something that was lying athis feet, but the nature of which no one could at first distinguish. Upon a closer examination, it turned out to be the dead body of a camel, that had no doubt sunk under fatigue, during the late excessive heats. Already, the wolves and the jackalls of the neighbourhood, had begun to feast upon its remains, and an unsightly object it was, particularly to our animals, who could with difficulty, and only by alighting, be prevalled upon to pass it. At about two hours after midnight, we came to |