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Rh have served us. Our horses stumbled over smooth slabs of rock and loose stones as we rose on to the rounded and terraced hill on which stands the Convent of Mar Elias, or Elijah, a massive building of gray masonry, in the midst of olive groves and flourishing plantations. A moon of three days old and her attendant star shone in the clear blue sky, just above the silvered tree-tops. We paused on the hill to rest our panting horses, and to look around us. Southward we could see the picturesque town of Bethlehem, white and gleaming. Between the hills to the east we caught glimpses of the Dead Sea, and the Moab mountains beyond. Turning to the north we saw, brightened by the moonlight, the southern wall of Jerusalem, and the buildings on the brow of Mount Zion; and on the west an olive grove bounded the view. The kawass brought me some water, in a curious little two-handled cup of red pottery, from the stone reservoir provided for travelers by the good monks of Mar Elias.

We then descended abruptly into a valley by a declivity which would have terrified me a week or two before; but I had become accustomed to rough riding on the rude hills round about Jerusalem. We reascended, and swept round hill-sides covered with well-kept terraces of fig and olive trees. The rude parapets supporting the rich earth were garnished with hanging creepers and luxuriant foliage, which threw dark but delicate shadows on the white limestone. Here and there we saw rows of quaint-looking ravens, perched on the rock ledges tier above tier; some of them silent and motionless, others nodding their heads together as if in consultation. A pleasant bridle-path, half-way up the western boundary of a broad valley, led us toward the white walls and flat-roofed houses of Bethlehem. We passed under a pointed archway, and between low, scattered buildings, till we entered a high-walled, gloomy street. Looking down on our left, we caught glimpses through the open doors of family groups, in lamp-lit rooms, built a few steps below the level of the