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interest was made: the cliffs mostly descended steeply into the lake; and the little creeks and coves could only be viewed from above, and often hastily. The only effectual way to explore this celebrated scene, is to launch a boat on it: it is strange that this easy and obvious mode has not been attempted by any traveller, till within the last three years. A boat could be procured at Jaffa, and brought thence, a distance of twelve hours, on the backs of one or two camels; eight hours more would take it from Jerusalem to the shores. With a few boatmen, and a supply of provisions, a week ought to be devoted to this wild and lonely navigation, and every bay, winding, and cavern be explored: the expense would not be great. Often, when on the spot, and casting many a lingering look over its waters, we wished for a boat on its melancholy strand. A similar wish was felt by a traveller, while on a visit to Jerusalem about three years since; and he resolved to gratify it by building a boat on the very spot. This was an injudicious attempt: for with less trouble, afar better boat than he could build, could be transported from Jaffa. If this ship-building at Jericho was the cheaper mode of the two, it was full of annoyances; the workmen were awkward and inexperienced; it was the first time, perhaps, since the fall of the walls of Jericho, that a boat was seen in its neighbourhood. The work, however, went on under the superintendence of the traveller, who resided chiefly in a tent: he was an enthusiast, resolved to accomplish his favourite design, and be the first who had ever sailed on the Dead-sea waters: and without enthusiasm, of what avail is it to go to Palestine, or hope to be happy there? In such a voyage it was desirable, and even necessary, to have a companion; yet he was alone. He was an Irish gentleman, young, and in the inexperience of his first journey. Palestine ought never to be the first journey of any man, nor should it be undertaken at a very early period of life; not till the mind is matured, the hopes and principles fixed. It is a pity, however, that this gentleman was blighted in his purpose, when almost on the eve of its accomplishment: a journal of such a voyage would have been a novelty, and of deep interest . But he had a mightier enemy than the Arab, the desert, or the pestilential air of its waters—it was Azrael, the angel of death. It was summer: the heat was great, and with the fatigue and anxiety of his boat-building, threw him into a fever. The bitterness of his feelings must have been very great when he felt his life failing, and his work, over which he had watched night and day, for ever at an end. When they bore him slowly away to Jerusalem, and he cast his eyes for the last time on the dark waters, whose hope had perished, and with it every hope of home, of all he loved—did not the iron enter into his soul? He was taken to the house of a German, who had lately come to the city as an agent to one of the missions, who did all that his slender means allowed for his comfort. Perhaps his sufferings were more of the mind than the body: he was desolate! no friend or associate near, his family far away; his last thoughts and feelings might never be known to them. Skilful medical aid was not to be had in the city. This is what the traveller who falls ill in the East cannot hope to find; and his anguish is aggravated by the belief that judicious and timely remedies might yet save him: they were not to be had. The unfortunate young man lingered for a few weeks, and as his life wasted, his thoughts wandered intensely to his home—to his parents and sisters—to the scenes of his own dear Ireland, where his future life was to have been passed. He was dying in the house of a stranger: his servant was not even attached to him, for he had engaged him only a short time before. Palestine was the first-fruit of his Eastern journey, which was afterwards to include Syria and Turkey, but he was cut off at the threshold. It was a mercy that he was in the home of the German, rather than of the Franciscan convent, whose monks would have felt little sympathy of feeling with him: his host was a kind-hearted and earnestly religious man; and while he soothed his sufferings, he spoke often and with emotion of the world to which he was now near, and of the salvation by which its glory is attained. His words sank deep and fast into a heart that was never hardened; the lonely sufferer wept over his departing life and broken hopes, yet he blessed the hand that chastened him, and lifted his spirit to God with an utter desolation, a dying energy, that did not fail to find mercy. If there be any situation in which the visitations of mercy are precious, it is when the soul is left to struggle alone in a desolate land, where the pity of the stranger is our only portion: no love goes with us to the dark valley of shadows, and our grave shall be forsaken. The bitterness and sadness passed away from the mind, and strength, hope, and joy came in their stead: it was true, his "golden bowl" was broken at the cistern, even when he raised it overflowing to his lips; but what were the blasted future, the lonely death-bed, the foreign grave—to the love that now woke within, of that Redeemer who died, and rose from the grave, near the spot where he now languished! He could almost hear the hymns that rose round His sepulchre, day and night, which told that the terror was taken from the grave, and the victory from death, for ever. All was hallowed ground around him: the very air, to his newly-converted spirit, seemed to breathe of compassion and peace. His last moments were to be envied by those who fall in the morning of life, and in the glory of their hopes. He was buried without the walls of Jerusalem, on the declivity of Mount Zion: his host was the only mourner who stood beside his grave. CHURCH OF THE HOLY SEPULCHRE, JERUSALEM. The large rotunda, in the centre of whose floor is the Holy Sepulchre, is surrounded by sixteen large columns that support the gallery; the light falls from the lofty dome by day on the groups of pilgrims beneath, and by night from the lamps suspended above. Previous to entering this, you pass through, on the left, a very interesting apartment, paved with marble, and lofty; it is said to be the spot where Christ appeared to Mary in the garden: during Easter, the pilgrims love to come here, and kneel around the middle of the impressive chamber, where flowers are spread and perfumes burned, and where were uttered the beautiful words, "Touch me not, Mary! Why weepest thou? Go and tell my brethren V Yet the floor of the rotunda was, to an observer of the human heart, a rich and hourly treat; in the presence of princes, in the halls of pleasure and beauty, in the marts of business, men do not care to unveil the secrets

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