Easter Sunday, with its strange ceremonies and joyous songs, is over. Monday morning, bright and early, there is great bustle and confusion in the camp. Every tent is folded. Camels, mules, and donkeys are packed ready for travel. The people mount—sometimes whole families of five or six on one camel. Some of the number stride the animal, while others are suspended in baskets which are tied together and hang on either side. Leaving Jerusalem, the pilgrims, in one great caravan, under the protection of the Turkish government, start out for the “Sacred River.” The Kedron valley and the side of the Mount of Olives are filled with inhabitants of Jerusalem and the surrounding villages, who have come out to see the annual procession pass. On they go, an escort of Turkish soldiers with a white flag and sweet music leading the way. Then come camels and asses laden with pilgrims of every age and condition, of every clime and country, clad in costumes of every variety of cut and color, while a second group of soldiers, with the green standard of the prophet, closes the long procession. As the shadows of evening begin to fall, the pilgrims pitch their tents by Elisha’s Fountain in the plain of Jericho. At night the whole plain is dotted with cheerful camp-fires. Gathering here, in groups of two or three hundred, the people engage with great enthusiasm in a weird kind of ceremony which is to prepare them for the next day. At a late hour they fall asleep. The scene that follows their waking is vividly described by Lieut. Lynch of the U. S. Navy. He says: “At 3 A.M., we were aroused by the intelligence that the pilgrims were coming. Rising in haste, we beheld thousands of torchlights, with a dark mass beneath, moving rapidly over the hills. Striking our tents with precipation, we hurriedly removed them and all our effects a short distance to the left. We had scarce finished, when they were upon us:—men, women, and children, mounted on camels, horses, mules, and donkeys, rushed impetuously by toward the bank. They presented the appearance of fugitives from a routed army. “Our Bedawin friends here stood us in good stead;—sticking their tufted spears before our tents, they mounted their steeds and formed a military cordon around us. But for them we should have been run down, and most of our effects trampled upon, scattered and lost. In all the wild haste of a disorderly rout, Copts and Russians, Poles, Armenians, Greeks and Syrians, from all parts of Asia, from Europe, from Africa, and from far-distant America, on they came; men, women and children, of every age and hue, and in every variety of costume; talking, screaming, shouting, in almost every known language under the sun.