Returning by the same street, we will now enter the Jewish Quarter and visit the synagogues. The great ancient synagogue may be compared to a vaulted cave; the way into which is down a badly constructed and worse kept staircase. Some piers which were formerly ornamented with wood-carvings and gilding (of which some slight traces still remain) sustain the roof of these subterranean chambers, many parts of which threaten to fall down. They are lighted by the feeble rays that struggle through the broken panes of the closely grated windows. The place is always damp, both from its low situation, and from the water which runs into it during the winter-rains by the staircase, the windows, and the leaky vaulted roof. Round the upper part of the chamber latticed wooden galleries are built; but these are so separated one from another, and so patched from repeated repairs, that they look more fit to be fowl-pens than seats for the women, who seem to me to occupy a very dangerous position. Below are shattered, rotten, worm-eaten benches, haunted by swarms of voracious fleas, which are occupied by the men. At the end of each chamber is a kind of wooden cupboard, with more or less tasteless ornament about it, in the middle of which is the tabernacle, usually covered with a torn curtain, which on festival days only is replaced by another, given by some European benefactress. The tabernacle contains nothing but a copy of the Scriptures, written on parchment rolls. The tables of the law are kept with a holy veneration in the principal of these chambers, wrapped up in a purple cloth embroidered with gold. While the services are going on, each Israelite has upon his head a piece of striped blue and white woollen cloth, edged with a cord, which hangs down from each corner. Many also wear a little box on their foreheads in which a copy of the ten commandments or of some other passages of Scripture is enclosed[513]. When the Rabbins unroll the parchment before the worshippers, each draws near to touch it reverently with the end of one of the cords of his veil. The sad and solemn psalmody of the Doctors of the law, answered by verses of the Bible recited by all the people, with sighs and every manifestation of profound grief, produces a feeling of compassion for this unhappy remnant of Israel, whose constancy and resignation under so long and heavy a burden seem to deserve a better fate.