This court is where the multitude stood to see the crucifixion of our Lord. On the opposite side from the entrance, in a corner of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, is the Rock of Calvary, and the buildings which surround it are the convents and monasteries of the various Christian sects. A stream of worshippers of all nations passes continuously among the hordes of beggars and pedlars squatting on the stones. Here a young Syrian is selling candles of all kinds and sizes, from tapers no bigger than your little finger to great cylinders as thick as your arm, to pilgrims who go to burn them before the altars within the sepulchre. There is a rosary pedlar doing a rushing business. She is a Bethlehem girl with two bushels of beads. They are made of olive wood and of the pips of the olive itself, as well as of mother-of-pearl. All around you are the characters of the Scriptures. Here is a dark-brown man whose face reminds you of that of Judas in Leonardo da Vinci’s “Last Supper.” He is peddling little crosses of mother-of-pearl. Here is a woman with a face as beautifully sad as that of Mary Magdalene, and there is an old man selling pictures of the church dignitaries, whose patriarchal beard and honest eyes make you think of Abraham. There are pedlars of brass rings and glass bracelets from Hebron. The crier of drinks in bare feet and blue gown, with his skin water bottle on his back, passes along announcing his wares by clinking his two brass drinking-cups together. The crowd moves on in a never-ending stream toward the door of the church. It is the same, morning and evening, day in and day out. Thousands upon thousands of footsteps have worn the flag stones to the smoothness of marble, and on and on they come, year after year and generation after generation. We enter the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, the church which these people believe covers the spot where Christ was crucified and where His tomb is kept. It is the church that Constantine built, the church for which the Crusaders fought, the shrine where the religious of all Christendom would bow. It is a vast building of yellow limestone rising out of and above a jumble of houses in front of the court, with a dome a little smaller than that of our Capitol at Washington. At one side a chapel rises above the other parts of the structure to the second story, and the whole stands upon hill and valley so that the chapel rests upon a rock high above the level of the ground floor. This rock is supposed to be Calvary, upon which stood the cross of Christ. Around the rotunda extends a series of buildings, consisting of gaudily decorated churches and chapels of a dozen different denominations and sects. A wide vaulted aisle runs around between these and the rotunda into which they open.