The little mosque, which stands in the open
space before it, has its legend. It is said that
after the taking of Jerusalem by Saladin, it was
proposed to the victor to offer his prayer at the
holy tomb. It was the custom to convert
immediately into a mosque any place where the
chief of Islam had knelt. Saladin generously
refused the offer made to him. Still, not choosing
to quit the tomb of "the prophet Jesus"
without returning thanks for the victory, he
instantly ordered some rubbish to be cleared
away from a corner of the open space, and,
prostrating himself there, addressed a prayer to the
Eternal. In remembrance of that act, the little
mosque was built.

The Church of the Holy Sepulchre is the
property of the Sultan, who allows it to be enjoyed,
as usufructuary tenants, by the different Christian
communions, under the guard of the
Mutewelli of Wakouf. Jews are formally forbidden
to approach the temple. If one of them dared to
venture even on the open space, he would run
the risk of being killed by the inhabitants,
whether Christian or Mussulman. Both would
reproach him to this very day with the death of
their God or their great prophet. In the chapel
erected on the spot where Our Lord appeared
to Mary Magdalen, tradition has deposited the
skull of Adam, the father of the human race.
Although the belief be very ancient, since it is the
original motive for the presence of a skull at the
foot of every crucifix, we may be allowed to feel
some difficulty in admitting its authenticity.
We may regard it as a philosophical idea, a
combination not without its poetry, to make the first
drop of redeeming blood fall on the head of the
first human sinner.

The religious ceremonies performed around
the Holy Sepulchre are very numerous. Those
of the Holy Week especially, attract a great
concourse of pilgrims from all countries. At that
time, the interior of the temple offers the most
striking aspect, if we only seek in the reunion
of these men (so diverse in their nationality,
manners, and dress) one sole and identical
thought—the adoration of an only God. On
the other hand, the impression would be painful
if, confining ourselves to the material spectacle,
we regarded as a profanation this installation of
three days, during which men, women, and
children take up their abode in the church, as if
it were their own family tent.

The Roman ceremonies at Easter resemble
those at Rome itself, simply deriving a more
solemn character from taking place on the sacred
spot. The curious ceremony of "the new fire"
is that most held in honour amongst
schismatics.

On Holy Saturday, at noon, the Sultan's
soldiers enter the church in order to maintain
tranquillity amongst the numerous dissenting
pilgrims who invade the enclosure. They place
them in two files around the Holy Sepulchre,
and they have great difficulty in checking the
cries, the songs, and the dances, of these
impatient fanatics. The Greek, Armenian, Coptic.
and Abyssinian clergy, not united but
separately, march in procession round the tomb.
The over-excitement of the crowd increases.
At last comes the bishop, who proceeds to the
Chapel of the Angel, whose doors are carefully
closed after his entrance. After a few minutes
spent in prayer, the bishop thrusts through a
couple of holes in the chapel wall, a bundle
composed of thirty-three lighted wax-candles,
representing the thirty-three years of the
Saviour's life. This flaming bundle is received
by an individual whose family has enjoyed that
privilege from time immemorial. The honour is
not without its danger. Scarcely is he in
possession of the fire before the crowd rushes down
upon him, striving to light a similar bundle of
candles. Nothing can give an idea of the scene
which then takes place; it is an infernal mêlée
of human beings illuminated by the red light of
seven or eight thousand torches. They are all
shouting at the top of their voices, pushing, and
throwing each other over. The frenzied men
burn their faces and their arms; the women
follow the example, with exaggeration. It is
difficult to say where the mad outbreak would
stop, if the Turkish soldiers, passive spectators
of the disorders, did not put an end to it.
Every one then extinguishes his wax-light by
the aid of his tékié, or white turban-cloth, which
he carries home with him and carefully preserves,
to cover his head after he is dead.

To crown the surprise of calm lookers-on, and
to strike more vividly the imagination of the
people, the Greek bishop whose prayers have
just worked a miracle by drawing down fire
from heaven, runs at full speed out of the Chapel
of the Angel, and makes straight for his own
convent, clad in a simple shirt, with haggard
eyes, disordered hair, and the complete aspect of
an inspired person who has just been in
immediate communication with the divinity.

Happy those who, at that moment, can touch
the holy man as he rapidly passes.

DOWN THE RIVER.

How merry a life the little river leads,
Piping a vagrant ditty free from care;
Now singing as it rustles through the reeds
And broad-leaved lilies sailing here and there,
Now lying level with the clover meads
And musing in a mist of silver air!
Bearing a sense of peace where'er it goes,
Narrow'd to mirth or broadened to repose:
Through copsy villages and tiny towns,
By belts of woodland, singing low and sweet,
Pausing to pray where sun and shadow meet
Without the long broad darkness of the downs,
Bickering o'er the keystone as it flows
'Neath mossy bridges arch'd like maiden feet—
But slowly widening as it seaward grows,
Because its summer mission seems complete.
I love the very spots it honours most:
The haunts of alders where the fairy host
Of speedwells linger swinging cups of gold,
Trout-speckled shallows where the sun is lost
'Mid silver-coated willows manifold,
The homes of water-loving daffodils,
And thymy grottos belted in the hills.
And so the stream and I
Are bound together by a natural tie.