From my seat on a housetop I looked with wonder at the twenty thousand people below. The steps leading to the chapel of Mount Calvary were filled with Mohammedan women in sheet-like gowns with veiled faces, and every niche and corner of the buildings surrounding the court was covered by Greek men and boys holding on to the walls as best they could. The ledges of the convent were filled with Syrians, and even the roof of the Sepulchre itself had its coping of picturesque humanity. There was a stir in the crowd. I looked toward the door of the church. Preceded by two fierce-looking Syrian _kavasses_ with swords at their sides and carrying silver-headed staffs, came the bishops and in their midst the stately figure of the Patriarch himself. The grand procession passed slowly and majestically through the mass of people. A wonderful silence succeeded the tumult as the bishops mounted the steps of the rostrum. The Patriarch took his seat on his chair of state and the twelve bishops arranged themselves on each side. They were fine-looking men, all of them, with their full silken beards and their gorgeous robes. Presently a chanting solo was heard from the convent on the courtyard. There against the wall in an improvised pulpit above the heads of the multitude a Greek priest in black cap and gown stood with a gold-plated book open on a rack in front of him. His chant continued during the greater part of the proceedings. A priest brought to the rostrum a large golden pitcher in a basin of gold as big as a foot-bath and placed it in front of the Patriarch. As His Beatitude and the bishops rose, there was a waving of the crosses formed of candles, a passing of the hands this way and that, and a great deal of bowing, which was understood only by the Greeks and the Russians. [Illustration: The Church of the Pater Noster, on the Mount of Olives, contains tablets of the Lord’s Prayer in thirty-two languages] [Illustration: With towel and basin the Greek Patriarch washes the feet of his twelve bishops each Easter Week, thus commemorating Christ’s washing of the feet of His apostles. The bishop representing Peter always raises objections, which the Patriarch overrules] Then the Patriarch prepared for the washing. Standing in front of his chair, he first took off his great dome of a hat. As he did so his long gray locks fell down almost to his waist and his fair, open, dignified face shone out under the sun. He next laid off his grand gown; piece by piece the cloth of gold was removed, until at last he stood forth in a white robe of the finest cream-coloured silk crêpe bound round the waist with a gold-and-white girdle. In this still grand attire personating the Saviour, he took a long Turkish bath towel and twisted it about his loins. Then stooping over he poured the water from the gold pitcher into the basin.