Though enlarged and beautified by monkish industry, the cave in which St. Sâba lived still retains its native rudeness. Among the pictures which adorn the walls is one representing the beheading of John the Baptist. The artist has transferred to the canvas the horror of the murder and the turpitude of the crime which led to the execution. In the background is seen the martyr’s cell, with barred window and iron door. Robed in green garments, the headless body of John lies prostrate upon the marble pavement, while over it stands the fierce executioner, holding in one hand his sword still dripping with blood, and in the other the bleeding head. With an air of triumphant revenge Salome is approaching, attired in ermine and adorned with a coronet of jewels, and bearing on her hands a charger to receive the dissevered head of the faithful minister of truth and purity. The morning was far advanced when the iron gates of Mâr Sâba opened for our departure. The day was charming, and the ride to Bethlehem was one of extraordinary delight. The spring clouds, like softest gauze, screened us from the otherwise burning rays of a Syrian sun, and a gentle breeze from the Mediterranean came over the hills of Judea “fresh as the breath of morn.” It being early spring-time, Nature smiled in all her virgin beauty. Grasses and grains were ripening; flowers every where were in bloom; herds of cattle and flocks of sheep were feeding on the hills, and high up in mid air three eagles screamed as they soared above us. In an hour from the monastery Jerusalem was seen to the north, and half an hour beyond I for the first time saw Bethlehem nestling among the Judæan hills. A flood of childhood’s memories rushed back to mind, unsealing the fountain of emotion as when in boyhood I was accustomed to read the story of the new-born King. On the south lay the Plains of Bethlehem, where shepherds were watching their flocks――some chanting a pastoral song, others playing upon their rude flute. The sterility of the wilderness had given place to cultivated fields, and along the wayside grew a pretty blue flower, of a stellar form, called by the monks the “Star of Bethlehem.” Passing through the small village of Beit Sahûr, we turned westward, and, ascending a well-made road, in half an hour we passed beneath the ancient portal of the City of the Nativity. The streets were crowded with people, and along the main thoroughfare were merchants selling fruits, flowers, grains, vegetables, cutlery, saddlery, clothing, furniture, and ornaments, and mechanics of all kinds were pursuing their respective vocations. Illustration: VIEW OF BETHLEHEM.