CONTENTS OF VOL. II. SCENES IN THE CATACOMBS, THE REFUGE AND RESTING-PLACE OF JERUSALEM, AND ITS GREAT FESTIVALS-THE PASSOVER, PENTECOST, THAT was a joyous evening, and succeeded by a night never to be forgotten by me. The skies were dewy; the air was soft, a gentle breeze mitigating the heat; the lake slept as tranquil as a babe in its cradle, to which I fancied it was not unlike; and a deep blue sunlight bathed the bare, swelling hills in a severe beauty; and then I stood beside my son, my sick son, now almost restored to health, whom a month before I had been compelled to leave here at Tiberias, in consequence of his having been suddenly seized with a fever. A youth of singular susceptibility, varied talents, solid acquirements, and the most earnest piety, he had devoted himself to the Christian ministry. With a view to the exercise of its duties, he had just commenced with me a tour in the Holy Land, when he fell ill, the very day our feet touched the shores of this sacred lake. An unexpected call, connected with some missionary duties, compelled me to leave my boy under the care of a friend, while I hastened to Beirout. The way thither and back was speedily traversed. The first hour or two after our re-union was spent in taking refreshments, and in that almost silent and deep mental communing which best satisfies the heart of close kindred when fraught with unusual emotion. At length we rose, as if spontaneously, at the same moment, left our tent, and ascended an elevation on the western side of the city, where we sat down hand in hand, with our hearts as well as our eyes rivetted on the water below and the hills by which it was encompassed. The whole scene looked to me as if I had often seen it; I knew every part-the shape of the lake, the hue of its waves, the brooks, the ravines, the slopes, and the heights of the hill-nay, the history of every spot, and the history of the whole, from the earliest period down to the year 1853; for I had read and studied everything recorded. conjectured, disputed, and established regarding "the Sea of Galilee." And now that I saw it-saw those heavens and that sea, on which I had so often mused-I was so overcome by their influence, that for a season I could not utter a word. Yet did I wish to convey to my son the results of my study. At length this silence was broken by him. Look, father," said he, "look in the north-eastern corner of the lake-there, on the shorewhat do you see?" "Nothing." "Nothing? I behold under the shade of the mountain, in the dusk of eventide, a dignified form, a human figure with a halo of subdued and, as it were. sacred light around his head: do you not see him? Is it not the Holy One?" "It is an optical illusion, my child. Your mind has been so exercised by thoughts, images, and affections of which this lake is the centre, and the Lord Jesus Christ the crown, that I wonder not you see visions and even dream dreams. 66 But I am glad you have awakened me from my reverie. I intended to recite to you what I know respecting this hallowed ground, but so intense and absorbing were my feelings that I found not a tongue. The silence is broken; now then listen. My approach to this place I never shall forget. Wearied as I was with the long and toilsome journey from the shores of the Mediterranean hither, I felt all my energies quickened afresh as I drew near to these waters, and to you, my child. The incidents of my journey are too numerous to mention. But I must say a few words of what I saw and felt before I descended into this basin. For miles, the country, as you approach it on the west, rises with a gradual but decided ascent. A little after noon, I and my companions opened on our right a magnificent series of slopes, with a bare glimpse of this spot and the mountains of Bashan beyond. Those slopes are fields of grain, divided into rectangles of different hues and different stages of growth. Patches of flowers lay scattered about-here the scarlet anemone, and there the blue convolvolus; but the gentle and luxuriant slopes looked like mosaic, with a prevailing purple tinge, the hue of the thorny shrub merar. On our route, the prevailing rock was limestone, of which for the most part consist the hills forming the panorama you behold. As we passed over a rich and lovely country, and witnessed signs that barley harvest was nearly over and wheat harvest about to begin, we saw labourers working in the fields, but no houses and few trees. At a fountain on the high road from Jerusalem to Damascus—the road down which probably Paul hurried when he proceeded from the former to the latter city, on his mission of intolerance —we saw some Christian pilgrims taking rest and refreshment, their tired horses, with drooping heads, waiting their turn to drink. Unable to restrain my impatience, I now rode ahead, and was soon upon the brow of what to a spectator at its base must appear a lofty mountain. Far down a green sloping chasm I saw the sea, like a mirror embosomed in its curved and beautiful though treeless hills. "How dear," said I, "how very dear to the Christian the memories of that spot! the lake of the New Testament! Blessed beyond compare, it bore the Son of God on its surface, and gave temporary shelter to him who had not where to lay his head. Its cliffs first echoed the glad tidings of salvation, and from its towns the first of the apostles were |