As a contrast to the description of Dr. Clarke, the reader may not be displeased to peruse the notes of Sir Frederick Henniker on the same subject:--"Jerusalem is called, even by the Mohammedans, the Blessed City,--the streets of it are narrow and deserted,--the houses dirty and ragged,--the shops few and forsaken,--and throughout the whole there is not one symptom of either commerce, comfort, or happiness. Is this the city that men call the Perfection of Beauty, the Joy of the whole Earth?--The town, which appears to me not worth possession, even without the trouble of conquest, is walled entirely round, is about a mile in length and half a mile in width, so that its circumference may be estimated at three miles. In three quarters of an hour I performed the circuit. It would be difficult to conceive how it could ever have been larger than it now is; for, independent of the ravines, the four outsides of the city are marked by the brook of Siloam, by a burial-plate at either end, and by the Hill of Calvary; and the Hill of Calvary is now within the town, so that it was formerly smaller than it is at present. The best view of it is from the Mount of Olives; it commands the exact shape, and nearly every particular, namely, the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, the Armenian Convent, the Mosque of Omar, St. Stephen's Gate, the round-topped houses, and the barren vacancies of the city. The Mosque of Omar is the St. Peter's of Turkey. The building itself has a light, pagoda appearance; the garden in which it stands occupies a considerable part of the city, and contrasted with the surrounding desert is beautiful; but it is forbidden ground, and Jew or Christian entering within its precincts must, if discovered, forfeit either his religion or his life."[76] The observation made by Sir Frederick, in regard to the difficulty and danger of entering the Mosque of Omar, has been verified on more than one occasion. But the obstacles, apparently insurmountable, were overcome by Dr. Richardson, who, in return for the successful exercise of his professional skill, was rewarded by a clandestine visit to the shrine of the Mussulman saint. It will appear, from the few details which we are about to select from his volume, that the veil of mystery does not conceal anything really worth seeing. Like Pompey in the Temple, the Christian visiter, whose presence, in like manner, profanes the holy place, feels no other surprise than is occasioned by the fact, that men have agreed to excite curiosity by prohibiting an imaginary gratification.