Climbing the hill, we come into the town of Bethlehem. We find ourselves in a maze of box-like, one-, two-, and three-story limestone houses. They stand close to the edges of winding streets, which are here and there arched over to shut out the sun. The town, which has about fifteen thousand inhabitants, is probably ten times as large as it was when Christ was born. Its chief revenue comes from its association with the Christian religion and the fact that Christ was born here. There are thousands of tourists who visit the birthplace of the Saviour every year, and the chief business of the Bethlehemites is making rosaries, crosses, and articles of wood and mother-of-pearl for sale to the pilgrims as well as for shipment abroad. I was surprised to learn that the mother-of-pearl used is imported from the United States, where it is known as “pearl waste.” Shells are carved and sold to tourists in Jerusalem and elsewhere, and the Palestine beads, so largely used as rosaries, both by Mohammedans and Christians, are made here. These beads are filed out of oyster shells until they are the right size. Holes are then drilled in them and they are polished by shaking them about in crockery vessels with a little water. After this they are treated in a weak solution of nitric acid, polished again, and strung on cords of silk or wire. Crosses and hearts are made of mother-of-pearl, and sometimes a little image of the Saviour is attached to the rosary. Much of this work is done by women and girls, who receive from twelve to twenty-five cents a day. It is estimated that the total production of such wares sells for in the neighbourhood of two hundred thousand dollars a year, and that something like thirty thousand dollars’ worth are shipped to the United States annually. The grotto or cave in which Christ was born is in the very heart of the Bethlehem of to-day. There is an open square in front of it surrounded by stores and schools, and a great church known as the Church of the Nativity has been built over it. The church is entered by a door which looks like a square hole cut through a stone wall. It is so low that all who enter, even the children, must stoop. As I started to go in I saw a Bethlehem woman with a baby in her arms standing outside. The baby was small, and I could imagine the woman as Mary and the child as the Saviour. Taking a coin out of my pocket, I asked her to pose for my camera. She did so, carrying the child into the sun. Near by, in the shadow of the church, was a bearded Syrian in turban and gown, and at first I thought he might make a good Joseph to pose with my Mary. Upon bringing him into the light, however, I found that he was a beggar and would not fit into the picture, so I enriched him with a gift of five cents and sent him back to his seat.