When, in 634 A.D., Damascus fell, the church was at first divided between Mohammedan and Christian worshippers--the two entering by the same gate. They were not so far asunder in those days--not farther, I think, than some of our present-day Christian sects--so called. Seventy years later the strife became bitter, and the followers of Mohammed claimed it all. The Caliph entered the church with guards, smashed the Christian images, and set up emblems of the new faith. Then he lavished quantities of money, making the place as splendid as possible, until it was more beautiful even than St. Sophia's. Sixteen years ago it was badly damaged by fire, but now it has been restored--by Christian workmen, Habib said. Habib, I should add, is our party guide--a Christian Syrian, educated in a college at Beirut--a quite wonderful person of many languages. The mosque interior is the most beautiful place we have seen. Its ceiling, its windows, its mosaic walls, its rugs--all overwhelming in exquisite workmanship and prodigality of design. The pictures I have dreamed of Aladdin's palace grow dim in this enchanted place. No wonder the faithful linger here on their way to and from Mecca; for after the long desert stages it is like a vision of that lavish paradise which their generous prophet has provided. They are all about--prostrating themselves with many genuflections and murmurings--and we step on them as little as possible, but they are a good deal in the way. The place holds ten or twelve thousand of them every Friday, Habib said. Habib, by-the-way, has small respect for the Moslem. Also, he does not seem to fear consequences, which I confess I do, being in the very stronghold of fanaticism, and remembering that some five thousand Christians were suddenly and violently destroyed in Damascus not so many years ago. We were in front of a very marvellous mosaic shrine, and Habib beckoned us to come closer to admire its exquisite workmanship. A devotee was prostrated in the little alcove, bowing and praying in the usual rhythmic way. We surrounded him, but were inclined to hold a little aloof. "Closer, closer!" urged Habib. "You must see it!"