Jerusalem, internally, gives no impression but that of filth, ruin, poverty, and degradation.  There are two or three streets in the western or higher portion of the city which are tolerably clean, but all the others, to the very gates of the Holy Sepulchre, are channels of pestilence.  The Jewish Quarter, which is the largest, so sickened and disgusted me, that I should rather go the whole round of the city walls than pass through it a second time.  The bazaars are poor, compared with those of other Oriental cities of the same size, and the principal trade seems to be in rosaries, both Turkish and Christian, crosses, seals, amulets, and pieces of the Holy Sepulchre.  The population, which may possibly reach 20,000, is apparently Jewish, for the most part; at least, I have been principally struck with the Hebrew face, in my walks.  The number of Jews has increased considerably within a few years, and there is also quite a number who, having been converted to Protestantism, were brought hither at the expense of English missionary societies for the purpose of forming a Protestant community.  Two of the hotels are kept by families of this class.  It is estimated that each member of the community has cost the Mission about L4,500:  a sum which would have Christianized tenfold the number of English heathen.  The Mission, however, is kept up by its patrons, as a sort of religious luxury.  The English have lately built a very handsome church within the walls, and the Rev. Dr. Gobat, well known by his missionary labors in Abyssinia, now has the title of Bishop of Jerusalem.  A friend of his in Central Africa gave me a letter of introduction for him, and I am quite disappointed in finding him absent.  Dr. Barclay, of Virginia, a most worthy man in every respect, is at the head of the American Mission here.  There is, besides, what is called the “American Colony,” at the village of Artos, near Bethlehem:  a little community of religious enthusiasts, whose experiments in cultivation have met with remarkable success, and are much spoken of at present.

Whatever good the various missions here may, in time, accomplish (at present, it does not amount to much), Jerusalem is the last place in the world where an intelligent heathen would be converted to Christianity.  Were I cast here, ignorant of any religion, and were I to compare the lives and practices of the different sects as the means of making my choice—­in short, to judge of each faith by the conduct of its professors—­I should at once turn Mussulman.  When you consider that in the Holy Sepulchre there are nineteen chapels, each belonging to a different sect, calling itself Christian, and that a Turkish police is always stationed there to prevent the bloody quarrels which often ensue between them, you may judge how those who call themselves followers of the Prince of Peace practice the pure faith he sought to establish.  Between the Greek and Latin churches, especially, there is a deadly feud, and their contentions are