In vain did the bishops of Ptolemais and Lidda, who supported with difficulty the Holy Cross in the midst of the disordered throng, attempt to infuse into the base-born peasantry some of that daring valour and fiery-religious enthusiasm which glowed so fiercely in the breasts of the Moslems. The Christian fugitives were crowded together like a flock of sheep when attacked by dogs, and their bitter cries for mercy ever and anon rent the air, between the loud shouts of ALLAH _acbar_--“GOD is victorious.” The Moslem chieftains pressed into the heart of the throng, and cleft their way towards the Holy Cross; the bishop of Ptolemais was slain, the bishop of Lidda was made captive, and the cross itself fell into the hands of the infidels. The king of Jerusalem, the Grand Master of the Temple, the Marquis of Montferrat, the Lord Reginald de Chatillon, and many other nobles and knights, were at the same time taken prisoners and led away into captivity. “Alas, alas,” says Abbot Coggleshale, “that I should have lived to have seen in my time these awful and terrible calamities.” When the sun had sunk to rest, and darkness had put an end to the slaughter, a crowd of Christian fugitives, who survived the long and frightful carnage, attempted to gain the summit of Mount Hittin, in the vain hope of escaping from the field of blood, under cover of the obscurity of the night. But every pass and avenue were strictly watched, and when morning came they were found cowering on the elevated summit of the mountain. They were maddened with thirst and exhausted with watching, but despair gave them some energy; they availed themselves with success of the strength of their position, and in the first onslaught the Moslems were repulsed. The sloping sides of Mount Hittin were covered with dry grass and thistles, which had been scorched and killed by the hot summer’s sun, and the Moslems again resorted to the expedient of setting fire to the parched vegetation. The heat of a July sun, added to that of the raging flames, soon told with fearful effect upon the weakened frames of the poor Christian warriors, who were absolutely dying with thirst; some threw away their arms and cast themselves upon the ground; some cried for mercy, and others calmly awaited the approach of death.