at the Convent of Mount Sinai, and kept small for the same purpose of protection. In former centuries the proud Moslems were accustomed to ride through the high-arched portal to profane the sacred place and insult the feelings of those who came here as devout worshippers, to guard against which it was walled up on the side and at the top, so that now the lintel is not very far above a man's head. But this low and narrow door is quite sufficient for the pious pilgrim, who would not enter on horseback, but on foot, or even on his knees, if that were necessary, to mark his reverence for the holy place. He enters, and finds himself in the presence of the greatest shrine save one (that of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem) in the Christian world. The interior is vast and sombre. Everything speaks of centuries long gone. The old walls, which have stood for more than fifteen centuries; the open rafters of cedar overhead sent from England and reared in place by hands that have long been dust; give an impression of that which is very ancient, even if it were not for the voices of the monks "chanting the liturgies of remote generations."
We pass up the aisle to the end of the church, where, under the great choir, a flight of steps from either side leads to the crypt, which is the supposed scene of the birth of our Lord.
In coming to this place of pilgrimage, the first question is as to its identity. While no doubt can exist that our Saviour was born in Bethlehem, yet in what precise spot in Bethlehem, is a question which has been much debated: and although, like the question of the day or the season, it is not material to the significance of the event, yet it is a matter of interest, especially when we are standing on what is supposed to be the very spot. It is said of the mother of Christ that "she brought forth her first-born
