The Church of the Holy Sepulchre is the chief place of interest in Jerusalem. A visit to its great porch carried us back to the days of chivalry, when the iron shoes of the Crusaders clanged on its stone pavement. Christian knights no longer are required to fight the Turk for the possession of the Holy Sepulchre; instead a strong guard of Turkish soldiers is always on duty to protect the Christians from the violence of each other. Fierce fights, and even bloodshed, are not uncommon among the various sects, Latins, Greeks, Maronites, Copts, Armenians, etc., who have set up their worship in different parts of the sacred edifice. The Holy Sepulchre itself is claimed and held by the Greeks, and every Easter thousands of pilgrims from all parts of the world worship at its shrine. We made our way one day with much difficulty into the narrow cave-like apartment, lighted with huge wax candles, and filled with adoring men and women rapturously kissing the stone slab which covers the supposed tomb, while a Greek priest stood by to receive the offerings of the faithful. We were glad to force our way out, but found some difficulty in doing so, the pressure of the crowd was so great. This Easter there were five thousand Russians in the city; impassioned-looking men and women, tall, blue-eyed and well favoured, they poured in day after day. We constantly met large parties covered with the dust of travel, each carrying his beloved tea-kettle which he filled at a running brook or neighbouring convent and boiled for his favourite beverage on the _semavar_, or copper charcoal brazier, which a friendly native would lend. Hundreds of weary miles had they tramped over the hot sand, under the burning sun, deterred by no difficulty, but ever keeping their faces stedfastly set towards Jerusalem. These Russian peasants have one great object in life, for which they save and work with an enthusiasm which never fails: to go on pilgrimage to the Holy Land, to touch the Holy Sepulchre, to visit the holy shrines, to be baptised in the Jordan, and to return to their fatherland empty in purse but rich in candles, vials of oil, unleavened cakes blessed by the Patriarch, and garments dipped in the Jordan, to be worn only once again--as shrouds. [Illustration: JERUSALEM AND THE MOUNT OF OLIVES FROM SCOPUS.]