Judah, which was nigh, to Jerusalem, but from Simeon in the South to Dan in the North; from the sea-coasts of Asher and Zebulon and Naphtali; and from Reuben, Gad, and Manasseh, on the other side of the Jordan. Hither they flocked from every direction — not men alone, but whole families, husbands and wives, with their little ones — to share in the general rejoicing. Those who came from beyond Jordan, crossed the plain, and as they began to mount the hills, they sang the psalm of David: "Who shall ascend into the hill of the Lord? or who shall stand in his holy place?" Thus was their Religion associated, not with sadness, but with joy. The feasts were times of national rejoicing, when Ephraim did not envy Judah, nor Judah vex Ephraim, but all joined together, singing the anthems of their common deliverance. These festivals were the great events of the year — which made the people feel that they had a country, that they were children of a common race, inheritors of a common faith, and sharers of a common joy.
These ancient Jewish festivals are no more; though the few thousand Jews in Jerusalem still keep the Passover, yet the Temple is gone, and there is no splendid ritual to attract the pious Jew, nor is there a large population — the remnant of the tribes — to send a throng of pilgrims to the solemn feasts. But Christian festivals have taken the place of the Jewish; to the Passover has succeeded the Holy Week, the great season of celebration by the Christian world, for which pilgrims are now hastening to the Holy City. As we press on, they gather before us and behind us, swelling the train. Numbers are on the road, some on horseback and some on foot. The latter we pass quickly, while others who are better mounted than we, dash by us at full speed. Here is a rider who belongs to the "awkward squad," as he comes up with legs flapping
