long, eleven feet three inches broad, and nine feet in height. It is hewn out of the rock; the sides of the rock are faced with beautiful marble, and the floor is of the same material. These embellishments are ascribed to St. Helena. The church receives no light from without, and is illumined with thirty-two lamps sent by different princes of Christendom. At the farther extremity of this crypt, on the east side, is the spot where the Virgin brought forth the Redeemer of mankind. This spot is marked by a white marble, incrusted with Jasper, and surrounded by a circle of silver, having rays resembling those with which the sun is represented Around it are inscribed these words:

HIC DE VIRGINE MARIA

JESUS CHRISTUS NATUS EST.

A marble table, which serves for an altar, rests against the side of the rock, and stands over the place where the Messiah came into the world. This altar is lighted by three lamps, the handsomest of which was given by Louis XIII.

At the distance of seven paces towards the south, after you have passed the foot of one of the staircases leading to the upper church, you find the Manger. You go down to it by two steps, for it is not upon a level with the rest of the crypt. It is a low recess hewn out of the rock. A block of white marble, raised about a foot above the floor, and hollowed in the form of a manger, indicates the very spot where the Sovereign of Heaven was laid upon straw.

Two paces farther, opposite to the manger, stands an altar, which occupies the place where Mary sat when she presented the Child of Sorrows to the adoration of the Magi.

Nothing can be more pleasing, or better calculated to excite sentiments of devotion, than this subterraneous church. It is adorned with pictures of the Italian and Spanish schools. These pictures represent the mysteries of the place, the Virgin and Child, after Raphael, the Annunciation, the Adoration of the Wise Men, the coming of the Shepherds, and all those miracles of mingled grandeur and innocence. The usual ornaments of the manger are of blue satin embroidered with silver. Incense is continually smoking before the cradle of the Saviour. I have heard'. an organ, touched by no ordinary hand, play during mass, the M m

sweetest and most tender tunes of the best Italian composers. These concerts charm the Christian Arab, who, leaving his camels to feed, repairs, like the shepherds of old, to Bethlehem, to adore the King of Kings in his manger. I have seen this inhabitant of the desert communicate at the altar of the Magi, with a fervour, a piety, a devotion, unknown among the Christians of the west. "No place in the world," says father Neret, "excites more profound devotion. The continual arrival of caravans from all the nations of Christendom; the public prayers; the prostrations; nay, even the richness of the presents sent hither by the Christian princes, altogether produce feelings in the soul which it is much easier to conceive than to describe."

It may be added, that the effect of all this is heightened by an extraordinary contrast; for, on quitting the crypt, where you have met with the riches, the arts, the religion of civilized nations, you find yourself in a profound solitude, amidst wretched Arab huts, among half naked savages and faithless Mussulmans. This place is, nevertheless, the same where so many miracles were displayed; but this sacred land dares no longer express its joy, and locks within its bosom the recollection of its glory.

From the grotto of the Nativity we went to the subterraneous chapel, where tradition places the sepulchre of the Innocents: "Herod sent forth and slew all the children that were in Bethlehem, and in all the coasts thereof, from two years old and under. Then was fulfilled that which was spoken by Jermie the prophet, saying: In Rama was there a voice heard," &c.

The chapel of the Innocents conducted us to the grotto of St. Jerome. Here you find the sepulchre of this father of the church, that of Eusebius, and the tombs of St. Paula, and St. Eustochium.

In this grotto St. Jerome spent the greater part of his life. From this retirement he beheld the fall of the Roman empire, and here he received those fugitive patricians, who, after they had possessed the palaces of the earth, deemed themselves happy to share the cell of a cenobite. The peace of the saint, and the troubles of the world produce a wonderful effect in the letters of the learned commentator on the Scriptures.

St. Paula and St. Eustochium were two illustrious Roman ladies of the family of the Scipios and of the Gracchi. They relinquished the delights of Rome, to live and die at Bethlehem

in the practice of the monastic virtues. Their epitaph, written by Jerome, is not a very good one, and is so well known, that I shall not insert it here.

In the oratory of St. Jerome is a picture in which the head of that saint exhibits much the same air that has been given to it by the pencil of Caracci and Domenichino. Another painting contains the figures of Paula and Eustochium. These descendants of Scipio are represented reposing in death in the same coffin. It was an affecting idea of the painter to make the two saints the perfect image of each other. The daughter is to be distinguished from the mother only by her youth and her white veil; the one has been longer, the other more expeditious in performing the voyage of life; and both have reached the port at the same moment.

Among the numerous pictures which are to be seen at the sacred stations, and which no traveller has described,* I imagined that I sometimes discovered the mystic touch and inspired tone of Murillos; it would be a singular circumstance if the manger or the tomb of our Saviour should be found to possess some unknown master-piece of any of the great painters.

We returned to our convent, and I surveyed the country from the top of a terrace. Bethlehem is built on a hill which overlooks a long valley, running from east to west. The southern hill is covered with olive trees, thinly scattered over a reddish soil bestrewed with stones; that on the north side has figtrees on the same kind of soil. Here and there you perceive some ruins; among others, the remains of a tower called the tower of St. Paula. I went back into the monastery, which owes part of its wealth to Baldwin, king of Jerusalem and successor to Godfrey of Bouillon: it is an absolute fortress, and its walls are so thick that it would be capable of sustaining a siege against the Turks.

The escort of Arabs having arrived, I prepared for my expedition to the Red Sea. Whilst breakfasting with the religious who formed a circle round me, they informed me that there was in the convent a father who was a native of France. He was sent for: he came with downcast looks, both his hands in his sleeves, and walking with a solemn pace: he saluted me coldly

* Villamont was struck with the beauty of a St. Jerome.

and in few words. Never did I hear in a foreign country the sound of a French voice without emotion. I asked him some questions; and he informed me that his name was father Clement; that he was a native of the vicinity of Mayenne; that being in a monastery in Bretagne, he had been transported with about a hundred other priests like himself to Spain, where he had been hospitably received in a convent of his order, and afterwards sent by his superiors as a missionary to the Holy Land. I asked him if he should not like to revisit his country, and if he had any letters to send to his family. His answer was, word for word, as follows:-"Who is there that still remembers me in France? How should I know whether any of my brothers and sisters be yet living? I hope to obtain, through the merits of my Saviour, the strength to die here without troubling any body, and without thinking of a country which I have forgotten."

Father Clement was obliged to retire; my presence had revived in his heart sentiments which he was striving to extinguish. Such is the destiny of man. A Frenchman is, at this day, mourning the loss of his country on the same shores, the remembrance of which formerly inspired the most sublime of songs on the love of country. But those sons of Aaron, who hung their harps on the willows of Babylon, did not all return to the city of David; those daughters of Judea, who on the banks of the Eu phrates exclaimed:

O shores of Jordan! plains belov'd of Heav'n;

those companions of Esther, were not all destined to revisit Emmaus and Bethel: the remains of many of them were left behind in the land of their captivity.

At ten in the morning, we mounted our horses and set out from Bethlehem. Six Bethlehemite Arabs on foot, armed with daggers and long matchlocks formed our escort: three of them marched before and three behind. We had added to our cavalry an ass, which carried water and provisions. We pursued the way that leads to the monastery of St. Saba, whence we were afterwards to descend to the Dead Sea and to return by the Jordan. We first followed the valley of Bethlehem, which, as I have observed, stretches away to the east. We passed a ridge of hills, where you see, on the right, a vineyard recently planted, a