We once witnessed a touching sight in the Church of the Sepulchre. Four hundred of these peasants, all middle-aged and very old men and women, were toiling up the steps to the tomb, and with looks of rapt devotion kissing the sacred spots. One aged woman was carried on the back of her son, who tenderly kept her from being hurt. We joined them at their Greek service, and longed to be able to tell them the Gospel story in all its sweet simplicity. Their belief seemed to be a series of superstitions with very little foundation of truth. We were told that each pilgrim left with the Patriarch a gold napoleon (or French pound) as a gift. We often came across these poor peasants, sometimes in the convents where they were resting, at others in their churches, or again in the markets, and at all times found them courteous and gentle. Space would fail, if I chronicled all our doings, but we were never tired of going into the town and watching the people. Outside the Jaffa gate, huddled together in one undistinguishable mass, were always to be found camels, donkeys, horses, dogs and lepers. The last were terrible objects, thrusting their fingerless hands into the faces of the passers-by, begging for _backsheesh_, and drawing attention to their frightful infirmity. Poor things, outcasts because of their awful and mysterious disease! Inside the Jaffa gate, the bazaars attracted us. The Armenian and Jewish merchants eagerly drove their bargains with their equally keen customers, who unblushingly offered a third or fourth of the sum first demanded, and seemed to spend a vast amount of time and talk but very little money on their purchases. Mingling with the leisurely crowd of pedestrians, we noticed several dignified Abyssinians clad in spotless white robes, their commanding stature and intelligent ebony faces giving them a distinguished air which was very remarkable. Before General Gordon freed them they were slaves, now they are the "learned men" among the Moslems, and live within the precincts of the Mosque of Omar.