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same thing: this was the house Roby had built for his bride, to which he had brought her home when they were married. Rand had never crossed the threshold before. After a pause, Roby spoke, without being able to hide the pang it gave him:

"It's a pretty good house. I suppose this is the last Sunday we shall be here. I understand the trustees are going to sell."

"Yes," Rand answered, without looking at him. "Yes; Colonel Joyce has made us an offer, and I expect he 'll get it."

Lucia put her hands to her face suddenly, and sat down and sobbed sharply once or twice. Rand turned towards her and dropped his head; he came near awkwardly and stood staring down at her, helpless, and dark in the face. In a moment Lucia got up and went out of the room. Rand fell heavily into a chair and sat bent forward, gloomy and stern, with his hands hanging over his knees. After a silence Roby spoke in a low voice:

"It brings things back to us sharply. In her memory the house is closely associated with her mother; and she 's tender-hearted, like her." "She's the perfect image of her," Rand broke out harshly.

Nothing more was said till they were called out to dinner. Rand took no notice, and Roby stood waiting, then spoke to him again. Rand got up and followed him unsteadily as far as the door. There he stopped, took hold of both doorposts and stood with his head down a minute, then burst out:

"No, I can't!"

He turned and blundered out of the house, stumbling over a chair and trying a wrong door on the way, and went staving down the street as if afraid to look behind him.

It was a sad Sunday for them, and that night Roby told Lucia he should go to the city in the morning and consult with friends about their unknown future home and maintenance. And it was a lonely and sore-hearted Monday which followed for Lucia, as may be supposed. Early in the afternoon, as she sat alone in forlorn meditation, a boy brought to the door a letter addressed to her in a large, sprawling hand. Inside she found a dollar bill and the words, written in the same hand as the address: Inclose one dollar and return it to me by the bearer. Ask no questions.


Lucia did not know what else to do; so, after some surprised hesitation, she simply did as the letter directed.

About dusk she was in her own room, thinking it would soon be time for her father to return, when she heard the click of the gate and

a man's sharp tread on the walk. She ran down and went to the door; but when she opened it she drew back, startled. It was not her father.

Jonas Rand stood there, his face flushed, and breathing hard. He had a large envelope in his hand, which he held out to her; he tried to speak, but only muttered some husky and incoherent phrases; he pressed the envelope into her hand and closed her uncertain fingers upon it with a grasp that shook and hurt them. Then he turned and hurried away, out of the gate and down the street.

Roby found beginning the world over again a cold and sorry business, and came home downcast and discouraged. Lucia did not meet him at the door, as he had hoped; and when he went in he found her sitting by the lamp with an unfolded paper in her lap and a helpless look in her face. She took up the paper and reached it out to him.

"I don't quite understand," she said tremulously.

Her father took it and looked it over. "Where did you get this?" he asked. She told him, and he sat down and read the paper through. What he made out of it was that Rand had bought the place and made it over to Lucia in due form. They found out afterward that he had mortgaged his own house to raise the money.

Roby sat still a little while, then turned slowly towards Lucia and began to tell her : "We won't have to leave: Jonas Rand

But he stopped there, and turned his face away with a catch in his throat. His head bowed forward, and Lucia came to him quickly and clung about his neck. The worldworn man and the innocent girl wept together tears in which regret and rejoicing were keenly mingled.

That was some years ago. Strangers in the town who stay for any time are very likely to ask who are the two grave, gray-haired men so often seen together and seeming so strangely assorted. They are partners in business, and as constant companions as when they were boys. They often differ in opinion and express themselves freely; but behind and above all matters of opinion remains their life-long attachment, too fiercely tried and strongly cemented any difference to shake again.


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N one of the narrow streets of Bethany are the walls of an old stone building the single opening of which is closed by a wooden door painted green. Every visitor is halted at this humble portal, and it opens in answer to the creak of a long, heavy, rusty key manipulated by both hands of the custodian. It is called the house where Lazarus and Martha and Mary lived. The encircling walls seem to be less antique than the old Roman arch which stands within, and their architectural style evidently dates from periods different and widely separated. Upon the walls are trailing vines and scattered flowers. The inclosure is only about twelve feet by fourteen feet in extent, and has no roof. If this is really the place where Jesus was wont to come day by day after his work had been finished in the city, then it was the scene of great excitement on the last Saturday he spent upon the earth. The time for the feast of the Passover was at hand. Every road and byway was swarming with people journeying towards Jerusalem. The number was greater than usual because it was expected that Jesus would attend the feast. No fear of death debarred the faithful son of Israel and true Messiah from undertaking the journey with the rest; so the start was made. From every wall of the roofless apartment the deep-cut, narrow road up which he climbed may be seen dividing the hill which protects Bethany on the west. It is one of the loveliest spots in all Palestine. Fresh and well attended is everything, and free from the pestering people one meets in so many localities. The olive trees are healthier, shapelier, and more fruitful than those down Hebron way; the wheatfields appear more thrifty, and the flowers are surely more abundant. It seems as though nothing had changed since Jesus went by, except that then, perhaps, a village capped the now bare hill, as was the case with almost every hilltop in Palestine when he was a dweller there.

His associates on his journey came from the masses—a motley assemblage, part of whom had followed him from Decapolis and Jericho, their number augmented by friends and followers from the region round about Bethany. Undoubtedly the Galilean disciples, who had joined him during his ministry there, led the enthusiastic procession. When the brow of the hill was reached a second living stream was seen winding down the pathways on the oppo

site hill and along the deep valley intervening. Palm branches were uplifted in the hands of some, and others broke boughs from the fig and olive trees and bore them aloft. Long before the two assemblages met, the crowds from Jerusalem began to carpet the rough mountain road with the verdant boughs, and those from Bethany divested themselves of their garments and spread them in the way before their divine companion. The high, rocky inclines of both Olivet and Mount Moriah echoed and reëchoed the loud hosannas which went forth from that joint multitude. The distance between the two towns is barely two miles. As the advance was made, one section turned back and led the other. Soon a slight descent and turn in the road was reached. As though crystallized from the clouds, suddenly, in the twinkling of an eye, the city of Jerusalem appeared in its entire extent, no object whatever intervening to break the glorious view. Mount Moriah stood forth with the Herodian Temple rising far above the supporting and protecting walls; Mount Zion, covered with the glory and glitter of its magnificent palaces, appeared next; the great wall girdling all with its solid towers and outreaching gates, which appeared like strong knots to strengthen it-all presented a phantasmagoria of beauty unsurpassed. The tree-clad hills and the surrounding fertile valleys combined to make a glorious setting and brought out the grandeur of the rich city. Even now this view is most imposing. This preliminary glimpse is soon hidden by the shoulder of Olivet. The terraced sides of the sacred mountain then, as now, were dotted by vineyards with hedges set about them, with places dug for the wine-vats, and with towers built for the watchmen of the vineyards.

As the enthusiastic multitude moved on, the crowds of persons who had been pouring out from the Holy City ever since the gates were opened fell in and swelled the procession. These people were of every kind and condition—old and young, rich and poor, women and their little ones. Some came to welcome a friend who had been kind to them, or whose friends had shared his healing power, and some came to honor the king who was to redeem them from the cruel grasp of the foreign invader. There were some who served as spies, and only joined in the loud talk and violent gesticulations in order to bring out the real feelings of the earnest followers of Jesus. Hope and Passion trudged along side by side; Desire and Fear

followed them. Every looker-on, infected by the contagion, joined the living mass and increased the exulting shout which came up from the rear. The everlasting hills caught the anthems of praise and sent the sound rolling up the valley until those who thronged the walls and towers of Jerusalem caught the news that Jesus was indeed coming to the feast and was even then close at hand. At last the little bridge which crosses the Kidron valley was reached, and the narrowing procession crossed over to the Golden Gate of Jerusalem. The expressions of fealty and devotion then increased, and the waiting multitude prostrated themselves upon the ground in testimony of their reverence and gratitude. It was the desire of every one to greet Jesus, and it was a marvel to see the apprehensiveness lest he should not come change place with the delight which attended his actual presence. Such complete possession did the thoughts, hopes, and fears concerning this mysterious man take of the people that even the preparation for the great impending feast was forgotten. The excited populace was uncertain how or what to think of him, much less what to expect. Some were violent, and declared that any such disturber of the peace was liable to bring down the imprecations of Rome and thereby destroy even what little prosperity there was among the Jews. Others, who had been wearied and harassed almost to insanity by the tumults and indecision of years, stood with open arms, ready and glad to welcome any instructor who could wrestle with the reigning sect and restore the law of Moses to its wonted place. For one faction had so perverted the religion of their fathers as to drive from it all the spirit and all the hope for a happy future state; while another, even more offensive, by their dead forms and dreadful practices of vice and lust so poisoned the ancient faith as to sicken every sincere heart. As Jesus proceeded to the Temple his enemies were preaching there, trying by every form of statement and argument to turn away the minds of the people from him. He was branded as a disturber of the peace of the city and of the nation. Oftentimes these services were broken up in confusion. Then Jesus himself took the place of the exhorters and overwhelmed the excited assemblages by the recital of his parables, by his questionings, by his utterances of the great commandments, by his gentle admonitions, by his terrible denunciations and calm predictions. And thus the public pulse went up and down under the governing sway of hope and passion until that last night, when, while friends were away, the populace at rest, and suspicion asleep, Jesus was seized, tried, and condemned, and before the news could be spread was hurried outside the walls and crucified.

The topography of Jerusalem is an interesting study. "What were the true limits of ancient Jerusalem ?" is a query that has not yet been answered as fully and satisfactorily as has "Where was the place called Calvary ?" For our present purpose it will not be necessary to go into the depths of the discussion, because the points which now interest us all lie on the east side of the city. Concerning two points there need be no dispute-in fact, there is none. I refer to the locality of the two great valleys of Hinnom and Kidron. Had their rise at the north and west been a little closer to each other, and their wide, deep courses been filled with water, they would have made Jerusalem an island. As it is, it appears between them like a noble, mountainous promontory. Approach it as you will, it rises sublimely above its environments, with its embattled towers, its always picturesque minarets, and its shapely domes standing out against the azure background of the sky. No clear-headed general of the time when ballista, battering-rams, and catapults were used in besieging a city could have coveted a more advantageous site than this. There seems to be nothing about Jerusalem to welcome the stranger. On the contrary its high walls and its guarded gates seem to say, "Halt! you are not welcome here." And yet its history draws us on, and this same wall of two and a half miles in circumference— a mere apology for a wall compared with its predecessor, and only about half its girth-attracts our attention at once. The materials of which it is constructed represent every age of the city from the time when "Solomon in all his glory" contracted for the Temple building to the day when Baldwin and Richard Cœur de Lion constructed the splendid Muristan. These quarried fragments of the ages, some beveled, some of porphyry from Arabia, some of the granite of Sinai, are placed with as little idea of unity and conformity as are the postage stamps in a young collector's album. Here and there a broad arch, closed up, is seen, with quantities of indentations and projections, with prominent angles, square towers, loopholes, and threatening battlements. As in Christ's day, so now, a broad pathway, protected by a breastwork, runs around the top of the wall and often serves as the fashionable, and indeed only, promenade of the curious old city. From the eastern wall, near the Golden Gate, close to the top, a fragment of a round porphyry column projects several feet. The makers of Moslem legends have fixed this for the accommodation of their prophet Mohammed, who is to sit astride it and judge the world when the people assemble in the Valley of Jehoshaphat at the last day.

The general conformation of the walls is

that of a quadrangle. The Mosque of Omar and the adjacent grounds occupy the southeast angle. A fair map of this most interesting of all of the corners of Jerusalem, as it appears to-day, is found in the engraving on page 48. This is the summit of Mount Moriah. This one view includes more points of interest, from right to left, than any other in Jerusalem, and takes in more than one-eighth of the modern city. Outside of the platform the area is covered with a grassy lawn, and here and there olive, cypress, and other trees vary the scene. The south-west corner embraces all that part of Mount Zion which is inclosed by the modern wall, and is occupied largely by the Armenian convent with the accessory buildings. Another immense establishment is located in the north-west quarter of the city and belongs to the Latin convent. The Church of the Holy Sepulcher lies between the two and serves as the general fighting-ground of the two creeds, the battles going on under the surveillance of a Turkish guard and Remington rifles.

The quarter of Jerusalem to which the exasperated visitor may retire when sickened by the turbulence and uncleanness of the others is the north-east. It is not largely built up, like the others, but it is beautified by gardens and olive groves. It is only a question of a little time, however, before these vacant spots will be covered with buildings. Once possession of the land is had by Latin or Greek, occupation will rapidly follow. Within a few years the buildings outside the walls have so increased as to form a new city almost as large as the ancient one within. Superb churches are going up all about Jerusalem, even on the stony incline of the Mount of Olivesmany more churches than the whole populace can fill; but their purpose it is not hard to conjecture.

Tradition says that the route from Bethany, on the occasion of the triumphal entry, followed the narrow pathway winding along the side of the Mount of Olives from south-east to northwest, back of the village of Siloam, until the neighborhood of the Garden of Gethsemane was reached, then westward across the valley of the Kidron to the city gate. It is not purposed to dispute tradition now, or even to disturb any one's peace by arguing the case; but for the better understanding of all or any of the routes from Bethany to Jerusalem, our present journey will lead us down the hills west of the common road of to-day into the valley of the Kidron where it is joined by the Vale of Hinnom. Thus we come at once upon the most sublime and impressive view round about Jerusalem, or indeed in all Palestine. This region is shown in the engraving on the opposite page and is known


as the "King's Dale." Through it the brook Kidron flowed once upon a time. No water follows the course now except in the rainy season of the winter-time, when the torrents from the adjacent hills unite here and follow down to the Dead Sea. The terraces of the eastern shoulder of Mount Zion are detailed here on the left; over the city wall the dome of the Mosque of Omar, situated on Mount Moriah, is visible. Stone stairways are there leading up to Jerusalem. “The Hill of Evil Counsel" is on the extreme left, and the narrow, stony road leading to Siloam beyond, located on the southwestern incline of the Mount of Olives, is plainly observable. Although the inhabitants of Siloam are as unfriendly a band of robbers as there is in the Orient, they are good husbandmen and have made the neighboring vale a little paradise. The stones have been industriously removed and the soil has been rendered most productive. The waters of the Pool of Siloam (located on the left) are used for irrigating this garden spot. Plantations of fig and olive trees are here; vineyards and fields of waving grain make a fine color contrast; and the plats devoted to the cultivation of vegetables for the Jerusalem market would excite the envy of the ingenious farmers of our own New Jersey, Florida, and California. No fence of stone or of wood breaks the expanse. The people are a community and do not quarrel with each other, though they scowl at the approach of the stranger. A person can stand on the pathway in the foreground of our camera-map and see, besides the sites named, the "Potter's Field," " Job's Well," or En-Rogel, the Frank Mountain, the Pool of Gihon, the whole length of the Vale of Hinnom on the left, and the entire eastern and southern walls of Jerusalem.


Following the Siloam road, after the gardens are left behind, the valley is found to be systematically and extensively terraced, in order that every foot of the precious soil may be utilized. After the village of Siloam is passed, the valley narrows until it amounts to little more than a ravine. A grand perspective view of the eastern wall of Jerusalem is obtained from this point. The entire surface of this portion of Olivet seems to be crowded with the white stone memorials of the dead. On right and left every rock seems to have been excavated, every cave "improved," for sepulchral use. This is largely the case all around Jerusalem. Certainly it is true all the way from Mount Moriah to St. Stephen's Gate and from Siloam to the Garden of Gethsemane. The humbler Jewish tombs are marked by a slab of rough limestone without emblem or symbol, though many of them bear Hebrew inscriptions. The Mohammedan gravestone is usually upright, set in a base, and the grave is often inclosed on each side and


at the top by slabs. There is frequently a footstone as well as a headstone. The study of the excavated tombs is very interesting. There is almost every variety in the neighborhood of Jerusalem. Some of them contain only loculi, or troughs, cut laterally in the rock, with an arch or canopy above; and into these troughs the bodies were laid. A second class consists of a central chamber from which rows of koka, or rectangular, sloping spaces, run inwards, like tunnels, sufficiently high and wide to permit the admission of a corpse. Other tombs have both loculi and koka, together with numerous stone benches

the tomb of Absalom and its pretentious neighbors Dr. Edward Robinson says, "It is unnecessary to waste words to show that they never had anything to do with the persons whose names they bear." He says further:

around the sides of the chamber, upon which level. But
sarcophagi were arranged. The entrance to so it is
such a tomb as this is shown in THE CENTURY frequent-
MAGAZINE for April, 1888, page 832. In some ly. With
cases there is only one chamber, while in others
there are a dozen or more, opening into one an-
other. Occasionally there are two or more stories
in one excavation. Masonry tombs are very
rare. Stairways lead to some of these chambers
of the dead which are found along the Valley
of Jehoshaphat, and the façades of some of
the noted ones have been carved and cut in pre-
tentious styles. Others are isolated,-cut from
the solid rock, and stand out prominent feat-
ures in the gloomy prospect. Most prominent
among the last named are the alleged sepul-
chers of Zechariah, St. James, Absalom, and
Jehoshaphat. That of Absalom is the most elab-
orate of all. It is doubtful whether Absalom's
remains ever rested anywhere near it, but it
always forms a picturesque feature in the land-
scape, standing as it does upon a well-chosen
site. It is quite 50 feet high and 22 feet square
at the base. All these surrounding sepulchers
are in harmony with the deadness which per-
vades the Holy City. Alas! how the poor pil-
grims would have writhed during their last
years if they had known that the jackals might
be toying with their poor shriveled remains
before the rough limestone placed over them
by faithful friends had settled to a comfortable

The intermingling of the Greek orders, and a spice of the massive Egyptian taste, which are visible in these monuments, serve also to show that they belong to a late period of the Greek and Roman art, and especially to that style of mingled Greek and Egyptian which prevails in the Oriental provinces of the Roman Empire. The chief seat of this style was perhaps at Petra, where it still appears in much of its pristine character in the very remarkable excavations of Wady Mûsa. When we visited that place some weeks afterwards we were much struck at finding there several isolated monuments, the counterparts of the monolithic tombs in the ValPetra are not held, I believe, to be in general older ley of Jehoshaphat. The architectural remains of than the Christian era; nor is there any reason to suppose that the Jewish monuments in question are of an earlier date. Indeed, if they existed prior

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