before the Lord. As of old, the everlasting mountains, by which it was bounded on every side, were the walls, and the expanse of heaven itself the canopy, of this great temple. Entered within its court, so sacred in its associations, we felt for a time the curiosity of the traveller lost in the reverence and awe of the worshipper. Never before, perhaps, were we so strangely affected as in this wondrous locality. Our emotions were then incapable of analysis, as they are now of description. I trust they were more than excited by the contemplation of past realities and enduring solemnities—that they were directed Godward by the great Spirit of truth himself.

We walked through the valley of Ráhah, occasionally stopping to survey the interesting scene around us, but without interrupting the progress of the camels. About the middle of the Wádí there is a small water-shed, at the head of which, on the south-western side, there are several large detached rocks. On one of these we rested for a few minutes, viewing, with indescribable interest, the mountain, which, on our first entrance into this valley, had proved the spell of our enchantment. It is of deep red granite. It rises from the plain almost perpendicularly, about 1500 feet. From the monks it receives the name of Jebel Horeb. Jebel Músá, or the mount of Moses both of the monks and Arabs, was not visible. It is not, however, it is to be observed, a distinct mountain, but only the highest peak of this one, at the part most remote from the valley. As we approached Horeb, we saw Jebel Kátherín, (Catherine,) its twin sister, outpeering it, to the right, but owing to its position, which is somewhat aside from the valley, by no means so commanding or imposing. Rounding the eastern corner of Horeb, at the commencement of Wádí Sheikh, we had a narrow defile called Sh’ueib, or the “ Valley of Jethro," straight before us to the S.E., in which, at the distance of about three quarters of a mile, we saw the convent, or fortlet--for such in reality it is—in which we were to seek for shelter during our sojourn in these parts, with its beautiful gardens adorning it on the side nearest to us. Jebel Monajah was full in our view behind the convent. Jebel ed-Deir reared itself aloft on our left, as Sinai on our right. We passed quickly over the sheets of rock and the rude pavement, by which the asperities of the way are scarcely mitigated ; and, in a few minutes, we completed this stage of our journey, so early as four in the afternoon. The monks readily responded to our call from below; and after blaming our sheikh for not bringing our letter of introduction from the branch convent at Cairo, they threw us a rope with a loop at its extremity, by which, turning a windlass, and assisted by one of their own Arab serfs, they hoisted us in succession to the projecting window from which they had espied us from above. We did not much dangle in the air as we went aloft, for some thirty feet; and a helping hand caught us as a bale of goods, and safely landed us in the company of our new friends. Though they opened not their gate to us, which, from the dread of the intrusion of the Saracens, has been built up for upwards of a century, except when they have been visited by their titular archbishop from Constantinople, they opened their hearts, bade us a hearty welcome, and gave us a cordial embrace. Mr. Petros, a noviciate companion, told us, in the languages both of eastern and western Europe, that he had been waiting all the day long to leap into the arms of our affection. They conducted us through porches, and piazzas, and courts, to an humble staircase which led to the strangers' apartments; and here they gave us the best rooms which were at their disposal. These looked into the principal quadrangle of the convent, where we could watch the motions of its inmates; and though not large, they were clean and comfortable, covered with pieces of mat and

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carpet, and having diwáns around them, on which we could sit by day, and recline by night. A piece of table, and a few antique chairs, were given to us to increase our luxuries. The former was speedily covered, and a comfortable dinner was set before us. For the timeous preparation of this repast, we were indebted to a premonitory note in ancient Greek, which, at the request of my companions, I had scribbled at the Wádí Feirán, and which they had jocularly forwarded by an extraordinary courier, to have, I suppose, its intelligibility tested by the critical hermits to whom it was addressed. Mr. Petros invited us in the evening to accompany him to the garden, which we entered by a long, dark, and low passage, secured by strong gates at both its extremities, by which it communicates with the convent. The garden is beautiful, and the sight of culture in the Region of Desolation itself is quite refreshing:1 The soil, which must have been accumulated with prodigious labour, is exceedingly rich, being formed of the waste of the primitive rocks, intermixed with manure. Considerable crops of vegetables are raised upon it; and it supports a large number of trees and bushes. Among these we noticed many of those which are most familiar to us in sacred history and sacred song. The fig-tree was there, ready to put forth her green figs in due season. The pomegranate had budded; and the vine was about to flourish. The tall gopher, or cypress, stood upright in its dark perennial green. The almond, the most abundant of all, was in its fullest blossom, the emblem, in its spring, of the hoary locks of man in the winter of his

The day after our arrival at the convent, as a matter of course we made the ascent of Jebel Músá. We set out at half-past ten in the forenoon, taking a silent monk furnished by the superior, and two volunteer Jebelíyah serfs, as our guides. We were attended also by a band of Arab children, who made it their employment, in the hope of receiving some little present from us, to collect any beautiful crystals or pebbles which they thought might please our fancy. Our way, as far as its winding course, caused by the steepness of the mountain, permits one to state its direction, may be said to have lain to the S.S.E., commencing nearly behind the convent. Some rough steps, the remains of some thousand cut for the Empress Helena, or some other ardent devotee of

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the pilgrimage, facilitated our progress. We were exactly two hours and twenty minutes in reaching the point of our destination ; but we might have accomplished this task in a shorter time, had we not ever and anon stopped to survey the interesting scene above and around us. The usual resting places are at a spring of delicious water, about twenty minutes from the convent; the chapel of the Virgin, a small and plain oratory, commemorative, it is alleged, of a ridiculous miracle, said to have been wrought by the Virgin in behalf of the monks, to deliver them from a formidable plague of vermin ;2 a double gateway, formerly used as a confessional for the testing of pilgrims; and a small, but agreeable Wádí, extending across the mountain for about half an hour, and separating its northern and southern peaks, and in which are a well and cypress tree, and the chapel of Elijah, where, according to tradition, the prophet reposed