"There is Jerusalem!" It was our first glimpse of the Holy City. It was not an ancient wall that we saw, nor even the dome of the Mosque of Omar, which stands on the site of the Temple of Solomon, but the Armenian Convent (for the numerous convents are the most conspicuous objects of the modern city); but for the instant a thrill shot through us as if we had caught a glimpse of the Heavenly Jerusalem. We said but few words, but gazed and gazed as we rode on over the hills and down the passes, till just at evening we dismounted at Solomon's Pools, which he built to furnish water to Jerusalem.
When we turned away from the Pools of Solomon, the sun was set, but we had still a long ride before us — at least it seemed long, for we were weary, the road was rough, and the shades of night were gathering. The moon, but a week old, lighted faintly the rocky path through which we picked our way. We rode on in silence till we began to ascend; we were climbing a hill, and when we reached its top we were in Bethlehem! Winding our way through the streets of the little town, we found our camp, and crawled off our horses, having been in the saddle twelve hours.
But the bright lights and the refreshing tea awaiting us soon put us in a cheerful glow, and we went out to take a night view of the scene around us. Our tents were pitched on the brow of a hill, looking down into a deep valley, where all lay as in profound slumber. Not a sound broke the deep stillness:
The beating of our own hearts
Was all the sound we heard.
But those hearts beat fast, for what memories were there to stir the depths of emotion. That valley below us was the field of Boaz where Ruth gleaned the blades of ripened grain!
