Who had done this to his dog, and what did it mean to him? It couldn't be-no, no-who would seek to harm him? That assurance didn't calm him. There was a dread of death over him, which conscience made him cower and tremble to. A noise-a cry-a crash in the other end of the house, made him leap to his feet. He was about to scream aloud, when a hand clutched him by the throat, and a darkened face fronted him.

Come, old fellow, you know what we want. No gammon, now-show us where your shiners are.'

Mercy-mercy, good sir! What would ye wi' a puir auld man?' and Gibbie fell on his knees and bellowed. 'Stop that ulloo, or I'll send a bullet through your skull,' said the voice, hoarsely. Show us where your cash is at once.'

'I'm poor-poor; I've no money-no money. Oh, pity me! I've nothing, gentlemen, nothing!'

Gag him, and that'll stop his jaw,' said another voice. 'We'll search a while ourselves first.'

Like a tiger, Gibbie fought and struggled with the burglar, but in vain. His hands and feet were fastened, a lump of wood forced into his mouth, and, with a kick, he was pitched into a corner. He tried to roll himself in the way of the thieves, to obstruct them in their search. With what agony who can tell, he saw plank after plank of the floor lifted, and hoards, mouldy with age, brought to light—the old chest torn open, and its treasures rifled-the very roof pulled away in pieces in the search! He struggled, and flung his body up into the air in the intensity of his excitement; his eyes were almost starting from their sockets, his joints and bones cracked with his efforts, and the blood spouted from his nostrils. In an hour the robbers had completed their object, and departed, leaving the ruin of their work behind, in the broken flooring, the torn rafters, and smashed chest and press, and the occupant, now still and quiet, in a corner.

The sun had travelled far next day ere any discovery of the outrage was made. Some schoolboys passing, with schoolboy curiosity, happened to see the door open, and looked in. They saw enough to frighten them, and hurried off with the tidings. Soon a few neighbours gathered, and went up to the cottage, followed by a great crowd of children, to ascertain what was wrong. On entering, they found the old woman lying bound in one end, gagged, and severely wounded on the head; Gibbie in the other, as the thieves had left him, and the whole place in the condition we have described. They lifted him up, loosed his bonds, and placed him on a seat. He began to revive from his stupor, and broke into a laugh that frightened the hearers. Ha ha ha!' shouted he, they thocht to hae my gowd, did they? He's a deep ane-a deep ane-a deep ane. That'll do, Gibbie-ha! ha! ha! Let me see; three and four, interest at five per cent. compound, mak's-what dis't mak'? Ha! ha ha! I'm poor, gentlemen, very poor,' supplicated he, in another tone. Oh, spare a puir auld man wha never harmed ye! I've nae gowd-nae money; it's a lie, whaever said it.' Then he gibbered away at some snatch of an old song, and burst again into a peal of screeching laughter horrible to hear. Gibbie was mad. The stage was darkened ere the curtain fell, and the light of reason never dawned again upon it.

The old woman told what she remembered of the authors of the robbery, but they had done their work effectively. No trace was ever discovered of them, and whatever of Gibbie's wealth they left, remained undiscovered.

Years later, a poor, miserable, filthy figure of a man used to go shuffling along the highway, half-doubled to the earth, muttering and laughing to himself as he passed on, stooping to pick up straws, bits of paper, and pins, or any trifle he could carry that attracted his eye. How he lived no one could tell-none seemed to care to know. Men and women avoided him; children ceased from their play as he came in sight-their laughter was stilled-they ran in little groups into corners till he passed-they uttered no shout after him, nor ever ran to look at him, but whispered often to one another, in hushed voice, That's Gibbie Grudge the miser.'

MUSIC AND EDUCATION.* POETRY and painting may be termed the media through which the British sense of the beautiful has been most successfully developed. But of music we almost literally know nothing; we have been cultivating the more masculine properties of intellect to the neglect of the more refining; and one result of this is, that the British schools of both poetry and painting are notoriously destitute of harmony. On the Continent, however-where despotism had succeeded in subduing the verbal expression of thought, and where painting dared not reveal to the eyes the images of liberty that were fain to spring from the pencil of Italian youths, or of reflective Germans, who thought and knew but dared not speak-the higher sentiments found a voice in music. The republican Beethoven could make the chords of his piano speak a soul-language that told its tale to German hearts, and made them thrill with sympathy in spite of all the jealousy of despotism; and by his vehicle, which the rulers vainly thought addressed no ordinate language to men, and which they therefore tolerated and even encouraged, there is no doubt that the German mind has been educated to love the liberty so energetically demanded and won at this moment in almost every state.

Dr Mainzer's book is an attempt to rescue music from the utter neglect under which it seems to exist in Britain, and to elevate it into the position of an universal educational necessity; and if high talent, learning, earnestness, and research, were capable of accomplishing his object, he has certainly brought all these to bear upon his subject; while a deep knowledge of that subject itself, and a fine appreciation of its capabilities, certainly render him peculiarly fitted to discuss it. Dr Mainzer traces the origin of music from nature, and contends that no nation can pretend to its discovery, any more than it could pretend to have first observed the sighing of the west wind. The savage, who hears in the wilderness the tinkling of the rill or the murmuring of the wind, and stands still to listen with smiling face and uplifted hand, has had his first lesson in music, and the subsequent modifications and combinations of sound are the result of his sense requiring a more highly expressive and normal musical language. He discusses the question in relation to the science of acoustics, enters into an elaborate examination of the invention of instruments and the state of music among several people, and then presents us with a comprehensive view of the estimation in which this art was held among the nations and philosophers of antiquity. After tracing the history of music in the British isles, and showing the extent to which it was cultivated amongst the meanest of the people, and its influence upon their affections and manners, the doctor concludes those more familiar researches with these allusions and reflections:

We have met with incontestable facts, proving that music has as favourable a soil in Great Britain and Ireland, as elsewhere. Without the annals of past centuries, however, such an assertion would find an unbelieving ear. The present state of this neglected art (in Scotland at least) is so destitute, that without the faith in the universality of music, and without a glance into the history of past ages, it would be too great a stretch of imagination to believe that music ever was a popular art, far less to such a fabulous extent; for out of hearing of the concert-rooms and theatres, we stand, in regard to music, in a laud of exile; we tread the ground of a cemetery. We ask in vain for the schools, the choirs, the works and masters of former days. A misunderstood piety has carried them to the grave. A gift that Providence found worthy of giving to man, should have been found worthy of preserving; but it is not so. Silence surrounds us on every side; the children are silent in the schools; silent is the united multitude in churches, or if they raise their voices and mean to sing, it is in a style compared with which the singing of a Moravian congregation of the Hot

* By DR MAINZER. London: Longman & Co.

tentots would appear as a choir of angels. The teacher of the people in the church, and the teacher of the people in the school, have not felt the absence of this heavenly art of sound within their walls. Instead of seeking it above their horizon, as a sublime power to open the heart and the understanding, they seek it in the lower regions, and look down upon it, from their imaginary throne of superiority, as upon a lovely woman, both the mother and the victim of debauchery and seduction. Yes, it is far in space and time, from the shriek of the engine-whistle to the simple and sublime chants, the sacred musical inspirations of the fathers of the church; it is far away from the Forth and the Tweed to that dwelling in Wittenberg, where a Mathesius, a Melancthon, and a Luther passed half nights in singing mottets, and the dulces exuviae, the last words of Virgil's Dido. It is a long time from our days to those of Zuinglius, who could sing and play, and nevertheless, could speak as a Demosthenes, and die upon the field of battle. If history tells us that music may be a luxuriant plant of the British soil, these men teach us that music is also a religious art; that it is a sacred legacy of the fathers of Christianity, and of the founders of the Reformation; a legacy which, in the hands of those who should be its guardian priests, instead of being watched and guided, cultivated with zeal, with care and jealousy, has been allowed to sink deeper and deeper, more and more neglected in church and school, and more and more deprived of all its sacred attributes. How well would the words of Zuinglius be applied to his misled, his degenerated followers! 'If thou knewest what music is, the evil spirit of ambition, power, and controversy, the demon of riches, luxury, and avarice, would instantly be driven out of thee.' What a terrible sentence must, to their ear, appear the words of the energetic and learned author of the Reformation, when he says: 'I do not think that through the Scriptures all fine arts should be condemned, as many would-be theologians do: I want to see the arts, especially that of music, in the service of Him who has given and created it.' Therefore he mentions: 'Children must learn to sing, and teachers must be able to teach it. Music stands nearest to divinity! . . . I would not give the little I know for all the treasures of the world! She is my shield in combat and adversity, my friend and companion in moments of joy, my comforter and refuge in those of despondency and solitude."

The mere capacity of strumming upon a guitar or piano, is not, according to our sense, musical education; and Dr Mainzer, with a jealous regard for the reputation of his art, is careful to claim for successful education in music the existence of musical sympathy. That is not music which young ladies emit in the form of gallopades and battles of Prague; there must be feeling, or the soul of music is not there.

Referring to music in its relation to health, he shows how admirably adapted it is to add to the physical as well as moral elevation of the people. In England, the public seems to be far in advance of the Scottish community in the cultivation of this beautiful and humanising science, and yet it is no partial idea arising from the spirit of nationality, when we declare that we ought to be more peculiarly a musical people than they. Our history is more continent of sorrows and triumphs than that of England. These sorrows and triumphs expressed, as they are, in thoughts that breathe and words that burn,' why have they never been embodied in high spiritualised music? Or rather, why is the glorious music of Scotland almost jostled out of the land by meaningless importations that tickle the ear but produce no emotion? Certainly not because we are reaching a higher state of music, but just because we are losing and neglecting what we have.

Dr Mainzer does not wish us to go abroad to find the spirit of this art, but to look within-to examine our own emotional capacities, and to give them educated expression. The volume is addressed to the members of the Educational Institute of Scotland, and the dedication is a very handsome tribute, indeed, to their enlightenment and to their high character as a corporation of erudite men.

The author is a native of Germany, and might have been supposed deficient in the skilful use of our language as a vehicle of expression; yet, as a mere literary composition, independent of its scholarly attributes, this work is worthy of high commendation; the most complicated and poetical of thoughts are expressed in the most beautiful and fluent language. If anything extrinsic can elevate music in the estimation of thoughtful men who are even incapable of appreciating its essential beauties, it must be the publication of such works as that now under our notice, which will well repay a careful study of its contents. ORIGINAL POETRY.

VOICES OF THE WAVES.

By the brink of ocean fell
The glory of a summer eve,
Such as that where spirits dwell

When this changeful earth they leave.
Ever in song the waves were keeping,
Singing the winds' low lullabies;

And on the beach wild flowers were sleeping,
Or, waked up by the gentle breeze,
Softly upon their slumbers creeping,
Told all its summer mysteries.

Even then a voice, like that which lingers

A moment round some tuneful lute
But lately touch'd by minstrel fingers,
Or like the breathings of a flute,
Or tinkle of a sheepfold bell,
Upon my ear in murmurs fell:
Merry, ever merry,

On the sounding sea,
Merry, ever merry,

In its depths are we!
Swinging on the far waves
Chapleted with foam,

Or banqueting in spar caves

The ocean is our home;

And a lovelier home than the deep, deep sea
There is not in the wide world's boundary.

When the sun is up and the smooth sands glow
Then away to shadowy grotts we go;
And at night, when the nautilus spreads his sail,
And his bark with the breeze is reeling,
We sit on the spars,

And watch the stars

In their viewless orbits wheeling.
When mortals hear soft music ringing
From the bosom of a shell,

An occan peri then is singing
Sweetly in its inmost cell.
When the western light is dying,
And the winds are gone to rest,
In a filmy foam-bell lying-
Say, what spirit is more blest?

Fays of earth, I ween your flowers
Are not more bright than these of ours,
That, from gaze of mortal hid,
Wave the coral trees amid.

With the green sea for a sky
To the seaweed groves we hie
To hold our noontide revelry;
And when the gloom of midnight falls,
The phosphorus beam,
With meteor gleam,

Is the lamp that lights our festal halls:
And sure the turf, though fresh and green,
Hath not half such wondrous sheen

As the floors whereon we dance,

Where pearl heads glisten and diamonds glance. —
Spirits of earth, your home is fair,

But the charms of ocean are not less rare,
For there's beauty and loveliness everywhere.'
I sigh'd when the dear voice was gone,
So truthful did its teaching seem,
And sorrow'd, as the night came on,
To know 'twas but a twilight dream.

H. H. O.

NEW DISCOVERIES ON THE TOPOGRAPHY OF JERUSALEM. THE most interesting question in the topography of the whole earth's surface undoubtedly is that relating to the site of ancient Jerusalem, and the various localities in and around it which are mentioned in the Old and New Scriptures. But, while the most interesting, it is also the most difficult point of the kind which the traveller, the scholar, and the antiquary have ever had, or perhaps can have to encounter, in the entire range of their toils and researches. This circumstance is on the whole little to be wondered at, considering the venerable age of the capital of the Jews, and the numerous and momentous vicissitudes which it has undergone. The period of its annals to which Christians naturally look back with the deepest interest is, of course, the epoch of the events of the life of the Saviour; and, even since that time only, the destructive assaults of the Romans and the Mahomedans, followed as the aggressions of the latter were by the multiplied disturbing incidents of the Crusades, would of themselves have sufficed to raise no slight obstacles to the recognition of the ancient city of David, and the cradle of the faith of Christendom. Serious doubts have long existed, accordingly, as to the authenticity of the assumed modern representatives of spots and edifices named in Scripture, and rendered memorable by the scenes which they witnessed; and these serious doubts have ever derived double weight from the character of the Greek priesthood, to whose charge, clerically, Christian' Jerusalem has for many centuries been committed, and whose glaring disregard for veracity at the present day gives us a most ominous idea of what they would venture upon in more barbarous and less scrutinising times. Even very recent visiters, though casting aside all dependence on the stories of the Greek clergy, have felt the task of determining the mere site of the old city itself, not to speak of its detailed localities, to be one of surpassing difficulty. A light has at length broken in upon the subject, nevertheless, rather in a strange way; and to this point we now propose to devote some space.

All the Christian visiters to Jerusalem, from time immemorial, had found it impossible to enter one occupied enclosure connected with the city, or, on attempting to do so, had been put to death. We allude to the enclosure called that of the Mosque of Omar, or more usually styled the court of the Harem el Scherif. The ground so designated and tenanted, according to all authorities, constitutes the very site of the temple of Herod, or that which he rebuilt on the foundations of the older one, and which was the Temple' of our Saviour's days. However, in 1833, Mr Catherwood the artist ventured to penetrate into the court in the guise of a Mussulman; and, though endangered in consequence, he was not only saved by the governor of the city, but allowed afterwards to delineate the whole details of the structure leisurely, and without molestation. His sketches were primarily intended and used for Burford's panorama, but fell in time into the hands of Mr James Fergusson, F.R.A.S., the author of many able works on ancient architecture, who found in them matter of such deep interest as to lead him to found thereon certain views, relative to the topography of ancient and modern Jerusalem, utterly subversive of all the leading ones hitherto entertained on the subject. More particularly do Mr Fergusson's conclusions affect the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, or the | structure bearing that name at this day, as professedly mised by the Emperor Constantine over the burial-place of Christ. The genuineness of this alleged site of the holy sepulchre has always been a vexata quæstio throughout Christendom. The labours of Mr Fergusson are not only directed to the demolition of its pretensions in this respect, but tend also to take from it the very credit of being the church of Constantine at all. We do not say that he is beFond all doubt successful in his showings; but, what with the almost fatal objections otherwise adducible against the claims of the received church of the sepulchre, and the evidence brought forward by him in support of his new conjecture, there is certainly a very strong case made out,

in toto, by Mr Fergusson. Our own sketch of the subject may demonstrate this to be the truth, though we must treat the case with as much brevity as possible.

Ancient Jerusalem is described as having been reared on two hills-Zion on the south, and Acra on the northwith a valley between them; while a third eminence, Mount Moriah, is said to have overhung the deep vale of Jehosaphat, lying on the eastern side. The modern visiter is amazed, however, to find the city planted now wholly on a single slope or ridge, running northwards and southwards, and rising on the south into a sort of terminative inland promontory, the whole ridge being not unlike the site of old Edinburgh and its castle, but sloping from the north, and much more flat, with a height of only about two hundred feet at the southern extremity. The northern end of the ridge merges in the adjoining table-lands or uplands. The deep vale of Jehosaphat is easily recognised along the east of the ridge; while the triple-summitted Mount of Olives is seen still further to the east or north-east, divided from the city by the said vale. On the western side of the cityridge, again, is the lateral valley of Hinnom, which is continued round the southern promontory, and opens into the vale of Jehosaphat, much as the ravines of the Nor' Loch and Cowgate may be said to unite behind the castle of Edinburgh. Another marked object and locality is a terraced platform overhanging the Jehosaphat vale, and occupied by what is styled the Mosque of Omar, being the unquestioned Mount Moriah, on which stood the famous temple or temples of other days. Add to all this, that the modern city, in whole approaching to the form of a square, lies entirely on the northern and eastern sides of the ridge, and a pretty accurate idea may then be formed of the immediate localities of modern Jerusalem.

But where are the two hills, Zion and Acra, on which stood the old city, according to Josephus and others, and which were divided by a valley called the Tyropeon, or Vale of the Cheesemakers? This point has proved a sore stumbling-block to the moderns. The whole city-ridge has been laboriously searched to find the traces, at least, of a ravine intersecting it from east to west, but to no satisfactory purpose. Hence, Clarke and Buckingham have boldly gone out of the city altogether, and chosen as their Zion a lofty hill to the south, called the Hill of Offence, and which is separated from the city by the transverse or terminating portion of the vale of Hinnom. The main pillar of this theory of the site of Zion is its seeming correspondence with the accounts of the enormous capacity of the ancient city for holding human beings and cattle, not less than 1,100,000 persons, it is said, having been slain when it was besieged by Titus, and 255,000 lambs having been offered in sacrifice at once on Easter-day. But the objections to the theory are otherwise utterly insurmountable, and we conceive that we shall offend no one by saying, that any argument, resting mainly or merely on the numerical computations of Josephus, is based on but a sandy foundation. It is not that the computations are usually to be viewed as false or even very erroneous-though Josephus proves at times his exaggerations by his contradictions-but the fact seems to be, that we yet do not understand clearly the arrangements and varieties of the Jewish numerals and measures. remarked, the arguments otherwise for not accepting the present wild and completely desolate Hill of Offence as the true Zion, are numerous and insuperable; and we must therefore look for both Zion and Acra elsewhere. Unless we err much, the explanation of Mr Fergusson will not be unsatisfactory to many readers, though it may chance to displease others, from its being founded on a grievous diminution of the external and material bulk and grandeur of Mounts Zion and Acra, as well as of the antique city itself.

As

These remarks on the aspect of Jerusalem, and the difficulty of reconciling visible facts with ancient records, were indispensable to a proper comprehension of Mr Fergusson's novel views on Mount Zion, the Sepulchre, and the Church of the Sepulchre. The building called by the latter name, and said to be the work of Constantine, stands within the city, and not very far from its actual centre. As Calvary

(which has always been fixed without the city) is pointed out as standing within one and the same area with the Holy Sepulchre, this central and level position seems quite unintelligible at the first glance. But it is on the authenticity of the alleged sepulchre itself that the question mainly rests, and to this point we shall first direct attention. Constantine is declared to have discovered the sepulchre, as assuredly he built his church, nearly three centuries after Christ. At what precise time any falsification of its true site did or could take place is not easily settled, though it certainly did not occur before the visit of Omar and his followers, however quickly or slowly it might follow afterwards. Previously to any change, as it happily chances, a learned Bishop of Gaul of the seventh century, by name Arculf, was cast on the western isles of Scotland on his way home from a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, and communicated to the Abbot Adamnan of Iona a detailed account of the Holy City of that day. The original MS. notes taken down by the learned abbot from that verbal account are yet in existence, and printed copies were thrown off in Germany in 1619. Let us see how Arculf's description of the sepulchre accords with the main features of the present assumed one. Adamnan thus reports his visiter's statement: In the middle space of this inner round church [the Mosque of Omar is essentially though octagonally circular] there is a rotund edifice, cut all out of one and the same rock, wherein three times three men can stand and pray; and from the top of the head of a man of moderate stature, standing up, to the vault of that little house, is a foot and a half in measure. The entrance looks to the In the northern part of this hut, in the inside, is the sepulchre of our Lord, cut out of the same rock; but the floor of the hut is lower than the place of the sepulchre. This Arculf, who often frequented the sepulchre of our Lord, informed me.'

east.

Adamnan then proceeds more specially:-'As to the colour of that rock out of which that often-mentioned tabernacle has been hollowed by the irons of the stonecutters, and which has our Lord's sepulchre in its northern part, cut out of one and the same rock, and which is the monument or hut above mentioned, Arculf, in answer to my inquiries, told me that that edifice of our Lord's sepulchre, not being covered with any decoration inside, even to this day shows throughout the whole of its cavity the tracks of the tools which the stone-cutters or excavators used in that work; but that the colour of that same rock of the sepulchre and monument was not uniform, but appeared mixed and of two colours, to wit, red and white, so that the said rock is of a piebald colour.'

Let the reader now peruse, and contrast with the preceding, the account given by Wilde of the pretended sepulchre and cave of the present day:The sepulchre within is a square chamber, six feet nine inches every way; open at the top. On the right-hand side an oblong slab of bluish white marble, raised two feet above the floor, is supported by another upright one of a similar form. The upper horizontal flag was cracked across the centre in the fire of 1808, and it has been actually worn down by the kisses of the many thousands of pilgrims, &c. Within this coating is said to be the actual soros or trough in which the body of the Saviour was laid; and, to prevent its being chipped, carried off as relics, or kissed away, this marble was erected. Our party of five just filled the space in this crypt unoccupied by the tomb. Although the top is evidently of modern construction, the sides of the door, as well as the part above it, are hewn of out solid grey limestone rock, which is here distinctly to be seen.'

Thus the modern cave appears most certainly not to bear the marks of the cave of Arculf, differing from it in form, colour, capacity, and peculiarities of site. The first is square, the other was rotund; the one is six feet nine inches in diameter, the other measured about twelve feet; the one can hold but four or five, while the other easily held nine persons, even when freely scattered, we may presume, for private prayer; the one is of grey limestone, the other was of mottled red and white stone. In short, this comparison of descriptions tends strongly to show the received

modern sepulchre to be supposititious. When we find the living monks of the church of the sepulchre so little regardful of the credit of what they exhibit, as to have told Dr Richardson that they well knew the stone at the mouth of their cave not to be the old and angel-moved one, but that it served their purpose equally well,' we may but too readily conceive, as before hinted, that no amount of imposture would be likely to startle the consciences of their early predecessors.

What then, after all, is the true site of the Holy Sepulchre? Mr Fergusson thinks that he has made the discovery. He has come to the firm conclusion that the mis-named Mosque of Omar is neither less nor more than the identical and original church of the sepulchre of Constantine, standing yet unchanged in all its substantial features. Thus thinking, he naturally set himself to look for the sepulchre over which it was erected. And the enclosure of the mosque does contain a CAVE, which, in important particulars, agrees with the very account of Arculf. This cave was seen and described (in 1807) by a Spaniard who travelled under the name of Ali-Bey. Here we find a witness who could never have dreamed of the coming theory of Mr Fergusson, as, indeed, neither did nor could Mr Catherwood-a fact which is most important as proving that his drawings were in no way modified to suit a prearranged hypothesis. Ali-Bey's evidence does not go far, but it is very emphatic: From what I could discover, particularly in the inside of the cave, the rock seemed to be composed of a reddish-white marble;' and he speaks confidently of seeing the solid native rock.' The 'native' character of the other assumed cave, it should here be most particularly noted, has been denied by the great majority of visiters, and when some one does admit it, he is usually found to be one of those persons liable to ecstatic and somewhat obscurative raptures on such occasions. If the solidity of the rock be thus doubtful, of course there can be no marks of the stone-cutters' tools.' The ease with which the truth could be established, by removing a part of the surface or casing, has been often pointed out to the monks; but they are too wary to assent to any such experiments.

Mr Catherwood gives the most particular account of the cave which is within the enclosure of the nominal Mosque of Omar, and describes it as being descended into by a flight of steps. It is of irregular form, has an area of about sixty feet, and is nearly seven and a half feet in height. This last point exactly tallies with Arculf's statement of his cave having exceeded by a foot and a half the stature of an ordinary man;' while the area would readily permit 'thrice three men' to pray at ease therein. The bearing of the entrance, also, is to the east, by the concur rent accounts of Catherwood and Arculf. The native rock over the cave, moreover, rises five feet above the level of the floor of the church or mosque-a feature not charac terising the other cave, and yet most important in determining the true history both of the building containing the cave, and of the cave itself. In reality, the church tends of necessity to establish the cave, and the cave the church. True it is, that the cave within the mosque has no sarcophagus at this moment, but, what is most singular, there is a sarcophagus in a building adjoining the cave, very nearly corresponding with the description of Arculf, and actually kept in a chamber called the grotto of Jesus.' Upon the presumption that this is the sarcophagus of the cave, removed by the Mahomedans, we must conceive it either to have originally been hewn out of the rock separately, or to have been isolated afterwards. The first supposition is not intrinsically inconsistent with Scripture, which may intend only to indicate its being of one entire hewn piece; and, when we consider how many wild traditions the Moslem people have got up as to the locality, and recollect also that Christ was in their eyes a great prophet, second to Mahomet alone, the act of detaching the tomb is one not inconceivable; while, if that was done to their hands, its removal to a holy place of their own must be viewed as a step quite natural and probable. Indeed, how otherwise can we rightly account for the name given to the place of