Adjoining the warm springs we found a bathing-house, built in a round form and covered with a cupola.  Here we also met a considerable number of pilgrims, mostly Greeks and Armenians from the neighbourhood, who were journeying to Jerusalem.  They had encamped beside the bathing-house.  Half of these people were in the water, where a most animated conversation was going on.  We also wished to enter the building, not for the purpose of bathing, but to view the beauty and arrangements of the interior, which have been the subject of many laudatory descriptions; but at the entrance such a cloud of vapour came rolling towards us that we were unable to penetrate far.  I saw enough, however, to feel convinced, that in the description of these baths poetry or exaggeration had led many a pen far beyond the bounds of fact.  Neither the exterior of this building, nor the cursory glance I was enabled to throw into the interior, excited either my curiosity or my astonishment.  Seen from without, these baths resemble a small-sized house built in a very mediocre style, and with very slender claims to beauty.  The interior displayed a large quantity of marble,—­for instance, in the floor, the sides of the bath, etc.  But marble is not such a rarity in this country that it can raise this bathing-kiosk into a wonder-building, or render it worthy of more than a passing glance.  I endeavour to see every thing exactly as it stands before me, and to describe it in my simple diary without addition or ornament.

At eight o’clock in the evening we returned tired and hungry to our comfortable quarters, flattering ourselves that we should find the plain supper we had ordered a few hours before smoking on the covered table, ready for our arrival.  But neither in the hall nor in the chamber could we find even a table, much less a covered one.  Half dead with exhaustion, we threw ourselves on chairs and benches, looking forward with impatience to the supper and the welcome rest that was to follow it.  Messenger after messenger was despatched to the culinary regions, to inquire if the boiled fowls were not yet in an eatable condition.  Each time we were promised that supper would be ready “in a quarter of an hour,” and each time nothing came of it.  At length, at ten o’clock, a table was brought into the room; after some time a single chair, appeared, and then one more; then came another interval of waiting, until at length a clean table-cloth was laid.  These arrivals occupied the time until eleven o’clock, when the master of the house, who had been absent on an excursion, made his appearance, and with him came a puny roast fowl.  No miracle, alas, took place at our table like that of the plain of Saphed; we were but seven persons, and so the fowl need only have been increased seven times to satisfy us all; but as it was, each person received one rib and no more.  Our supper certainly consisted of several courses brought in one after the other.  Had we known