buildest it in three days, save thyself.”[225] Here the rocks are torn and riven; for when he gave up the ghost, “the earth did quake and the rocks were rent.”[226] In the hill-side are tombs, which probably are “the graves that were opened, and from which the saints who slept arose.”[227] Down in the sequestered vale of the Kidron are gardens, where some old sepulchres still remain, any one of which answers well the description of the Savior’s tomb――“Now in the place where he was crucified there was a garden, and in the garden a new sepulchre.”[228] Where else in the environs of the Holy City should Joseph, a rich man of Arimathea, have his own new tomb but in the renowned Valley of Jehoshaphat, where sleep in death his ancestors, whose sepulchral monuments continue to this day? And where within the circuit of the city of his rejection should Jesus rise triumphant from the grave but in sight of the garden of his sorrow, the rock of his crucifixion, and the mount of his ascension? The Via Dolorosa is a lane-like street, narrow and crooked, leading from St. Stephen’s Gate to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, and its dolorous name is no less significant of the tragical events which, according to tradition, occurred along its course, than of its forbidding and gloomy aspect. Like the “street which is called straight” in Damascus, and the Via Sacra in ancient Rome, the Via Dolorosa has a world-wide renown. Its windings, its rough pavement, its prison-like walls――penetrated with low doorways and grated windows――its rude arcade, excluding the sunlight and casting a deeper gloom within, sadden the mind, and are in keeping with the monkish legends that have given to it universal notoriety. Along this dreary walk, amid its shadows and solemn memories, a wounded spirit finds companionship. As the industrious shrine-makers of this and of other ages, the monks have consecrated eight stations in this narrow street, commemorative of as many events in our Lord’s journey from the dungeons of Antonia to the site of Calvary. In the northern wall of the Temple area are the two arches, now walled up, where stood Pilate’s staircase, down which our Lord descended after his sentence was pronounced, and directly opposite is the Church of Flagellation, marking the place where he was scourged. Not many paces to the west is the _Ecce Homo_ arch, where Pilate exclaimed to the infuriated mob, “Behold the man!” At the bottom of a gentle descent the lane turns to the left, and then to the right. Beyond this angle is shown a deep impression in the solid stone wall, made by the shoulder of Jesus when he leaned against it at the time he fainted. Near it is the house of St. Veronica, the illustrious woman who presented the Savior with a handkerchief to wipe his bleeding brow. From her residence to the terminus of the street the gloom and silence are painful; and at well-apportioned intervals are indicated, by broken