I do not know the date of the first mention of this tree, but I think two hundred and fifty years would amply satisfy all the appearance of age it presents. Pococke, from whom I may observe in passing, that a great deal of the information, and many of the learned references contained in several modern works on Egypt, have been borrowed without acknowledgment, and in some cases taken verbatim, tells us that at the date of his visit, which was in 1737, a tree, I conclude the one still standing, was shown by the Copts as the one that afforded shelter to the Holy Family; but that the Latins denied its genuineness, affirming that they had cut down the true tree, that is to say, the one that had previously done duty in supplying a visible object for the legend, and had carried it to Jerusalem. This was probably false. Supposing it, however, to be true, it was a discreditable act, such as you might have expected from such monks. But we have arrived at the tree. It at once appears that the feelings of some of the party are too deep for utterance. On these occasions knowledge and reason have to fight, against something or other, a battle that is lost often before it is begun. Belief is so much more natural and pleasant than iconoclasm. If you would but let yourself alone—of course you say nothing that would disillusion other people—their devout and heart-contenting imaginations would be reflected in yourself. As it is, you cannot help feeling the contagion. The upshot of the matter is, you are not altogether satisfied with your own unbelief, nor at all benefited by your half disposition to participate in the belief of your friends. As to the believer, his emotions are every way pleasant and satisfactory to himself.