by a superstitious faith and a tender affection for their offspring, mothers come from afar to lay their children on the tomb, and many an invalid is only too happy if he may be laid beside his Master’s sepulchre. On leaving the tomb I fortunately met a young Irish monk whose acquaintance I had previously formed, and who on this occasion kindly offered to be my guide in the more thorough exploration of this renowned church. With singular infatuation for holy places, the shrine-makers both of the Greek and Latin Churches have identified within this venerable building the sites of nearly all those solemn events attending the death and resurrection of our Lord. In the northern end of the transept is the Latin chapel, which has been in the possession of the Franciscans since 1257 A.D.; though unpretending both in its proportions and ornaments, it traditionally marks the spot where Christ appeared to Mary, and bears the name of the Chapel of the Apparition. Passing down the dark northern aisle, we lingered for a moment in the legendary prison of Jesus, at the altar of Longinus, the repentant soldier who had pierced the Savior’s side, and in the Chapel of the Division of the Vestments. A few feet beyond, we descended a flight of twenty-nine steps leading into the crypt or Chapel of St. Helena, containing the marble chair she occupied while superintending the search for the Holy Cross. A descent of twelve steps more leads to the cavern where the mother of Constantine found the three crosses, with the title Pilate wrote detached. From the sides of the rock drops of water were dripping down which had percolated the surface above, but which the young monk assured me were holy tears, the rocks still weeping for the dead. Ascending to the floor of the church, and threading the southern aisle, we came to the foot of the traditional Calvary――a natural rock thirty feet long, fifteen high, and as many wide, reached by eighteen steps cut in the living rock. The summit is reached by two flights of steps, one used exclusively by the Greeks and the other by the Latins, for, like the Jews and Samaritans, the former have no dealings with the latter. On the summit is the Chapel of the Elevation of the Cross, measuring forty-five feet in length, the floor of which is paved with marble, the walls draped with silken velvet, and from the ceiling gold lamps depend, dimly burning. At the eastern end is a raised platform ten feet long, two high, and six wide, supporting an altar; and directly before it is a hole in the rock, two feet deep by one and a half square, in which once rested the foot of the Redeemer’s cross. On either side is a similar hole for the crosses of the two thieves, and near them is the rent in the rock caused by the earthquake at the moment the Lord expired. Reverently regarding it as real, the Christians of the East approach this shrine upon their knees, fondly kissing what they believe to be the summit of Golgotha. Covered