The native Jewish families in Jerusalem, as well as those in other parts of Palestine, present a marked difference to the Jews of Europe and America.  They possess the same physical characteristics—­the dark, oblong eye, the prominent nose, the strongly-marked cheek and jaw—­but in the latter, these traits have become harsh and coarse.  Centuries devoted to the lowest and most debasing forms of traffic, with the endurance of persecution and contumely, have greatly changed and vulgarized the appearance of the race.  But the Jews of the Holy City still retain a noble beauty, which proved to my mind their descent from the ancient princely houses of Israel The forehead is loftier, the eye larger and more frank in its expression, the nose more delicate in its prominence, and the face a purer oval.  I have remarked the same distinction in the countenances of those Jewish families of Europe, whose members have devoted themselves to Art or Literature.  Mendelssohn’s was a face that might have belonged to the House of David.

On the evening of my arrival in the city, as I set out to walk through the bazaars, I encountered a native Jew, whose face will haunt me for the rest of my life.  I was sauntering slowly along, asking myself “Is this Jerusalem?” when, lifting my eyes, they met those of Christ!  It was the very face which Raphael has painted—­the traditional features of the Saviour, as they are recognised and accepted by all Christendom.  The waving brown hair, partly hidden by a Jewish cap, fell clustering about the ears; the face was the most perfect oval, and almost feminine in the purity of its outline; the serene, child-like mouth was shaded with a light moustache, and a silky brown beard clothed the chin; but the eyes—­shall I ever look into such orbs again?  Large, dark, unfathomable, they beamed with an expression of divine love and divine sorrow, such as I never before saw in human face.  The man had just emerged from a dark archway, and the golden glow of the sunset, reflected from a white wall above, fell upon his face.  Perhaps it was this transfiguration which made his beauty so unearthly; but, during the moment that I saw him, he was to me a revelation of the Saviour.  There are still miracles in the Land of Judah.  As the dusk gathered in the deep streets, I could see nothing but the ineffable sweetness and benignity of that countenance, and my friend was not a little astonished, if not shocked, when I said to him, with the earnestness of belief, on my return:  “I have just seen Christ.”

I made the round of the Holy Sepulchre on Sunday, while the monks were celebrating the festival of the Invention of the Cross, in the chapel of the Empress Helena.  As the finding of the cross by the Empress is almost the only authority for the places inclosed within the Holy Sepulchre, I went there inclined to doubt their authenticity, and came away with my doubt vastly strengthened.  The building is a confused labyrinth of chapels, choirs, shrines, staircases,