upon the summit of the rocky mountain-range which

closed the horizon to the north.

To the south, the Dead Sea, blue as cobalt, without a ripple upon its waters, unfolded its great length below us; and upon the east we could see the silver streak which marked the course of the Jordan, winding like a tangled skein, through the long flat plain that runs from the Sea of Sodom to the Lake of Galilee.

Eastwards, beyond the river and the sea, the purple range of the Moab mountains rose straight up into the sky, a monster wall of rock. And then, as we gazed around and about the unbroken solitude, the desert barrenness of this wilderness land became clearer to us than it had been before. Wherever we turned there was no sign of smoke; upon the long ridges of darkblue water not a boat or sail was to be seen.

Except the towns of Jerusalem and of Bethlehem, there was not upon the mountain-heights a city, village, hamlet, or house to be espied. Only in the Valley of the Jordan could trees be traced: elsewhere-east, west, north, and south-there was not a belt of verdure, not a clump of trees, scarcely a stray patch of brushwood. On the slopes of the Frank Mountain a Bedouin encampment lay nestled; and the low black camel-hair tents, even when seen at our feet, were so hard to distinguish amidst the dark-grey stones, that many of the little specks of black we could see dotting the fields of stone might have been taken for tents also. To the untrained eye, however, the stones held undisputed possession of that dreary waste. A few camels could be seen browsing on the hillsides, an eagle hovered in midair over the plain below; but except the hum of our own voices, there was no sound of living thing-all was still, desolate, silent. Ere long our path ended in front of a mass of rock lying athwart the ledge. Climbing up it by steps cut in the side, we found ourselves opposite a hole in the face of the hill. With a

spring and a jump across the cleft which lay between the cliff and the rock, we stood at last within the famous cave, wherein every one "that was in distress, or in debt, or discontented," gathered himself to David.

Of the traditions associating certain spots with the deeds of the Bible characters, there are few more clear and definite than that which connects the caves of the Valley of Khoreitoun with those of Adullam. Assuredly this mountainside cavern might serve to-day as the refuge and stronghold of a band of outlaws, even as it served three thousand years ago. By narrow passages, so low that you had to stoop to the ground to enter them, you passed from one grotto to anotherlofty, wide, and airy enough for hundreds of men to dwell therein in safety. According to the story of the Arabs, this labyrinth of caves stretches for an unknown distance below the mountain. It may be So, for since the days of David nobody is likely to have explored its recesses.-Dicey's Travels in the East.

CHAPTER XXX.

THE EMIGRANTS' HOME IN NEW YORK.

In the New York Evening Post of April 4, 1871, a very interesting account is given of the establishment for destitute emigrants on Ward's Island, New York. Every emigrant, on his landing, has a claim upon the Governor of Ward's Island for 2 dollars, paid for him by the owners of the ship in which he crossed. For five years from the date of his landing he will, if he be lazily inclined, be boarded, lodged, and attended to for nothing, by simply obtaining "a pass" for the island. For breakfast, at 6 A.M., he gets one pound of bread, tea or coffee, butter, and "mush"; for dinner, at noon, a pint of soup, half-a-pound of cooked meat, potatoes, vegetables, a pound of bread, and cold water; for

supper at 5 P.M., a pound of bread, "mush," and tea or coffee.

The number of inmates-men, women, and children -at present on the island amounts to 2100; and it will surprise the reader to learn that the majority of these are Germans. As a rule, the men agree well together, but occasionally there are serious quarrels ; and then the English, Irish, Scotch, and Welsh combine against the Germans. Very few, comparatively, of the vast multitudes of emigrants constantly pouring into New York avail themselves of the privileges of Ward's Island. Many of the present inmates have been there continuously for five years, without ever having made the slightest effort to find employment; others go out during the summer, and regularly return again at the beginning of winter, after spending all they have earned in the meantime; and there are some who, after passing in the Home the five years allotted to them, manage to get back for another term under assumed names, by obtaining passes from newly-arrived emigrants.

The men's quarters, or "barracks," as they are called, consist of three immense rooms, each containing four rows of beds. Two men sleep in one bed, which is about three feet wide, clean, warm, and comfortable. The beds, walls, floors, and ceilings are kept perfectly clean. But as, when the writer in the Post visited the rooms, they were crowded with men sprawling on the beds, and most of them smoking, and the windows were all closely shut, an abominable stench pervaded the place, which he is able to compare to nothing but the atmosphere in the steerage-cabins of a ship when bad weather drives all below for a considerable time. The women appeared as lazy as the men, though a few of them were at work in the matron's room, making children's clothes. Most of them however, he found, like the men, sitting on their beds, or crouching on the

floor round the stove, gossiping to one another totally regardless of the presence of a stranger. There are upon the island, also, chapels for the different religious denominations, a general hospital, a lying-in hospital, a fever hospital, a consumption hospital, a lunatic asylum, and bath-rooms-in short, every evidence of care and attention for the health and comfort of the inmates.

one.

As the writer in the New York Post expresses it, "it is a magnificent charity, but a monstrously abused The whole scheme has miscarried for the want of one regulation-compulsory work. The inmates are too well cared for to venture out into the world, and long residence confirms them in idleness and utterly unfits them for labour. The writer states that out of 1500 men who are living there at present, only a dozen have been found willing to aid in the construction of a pier for the use of the ferryboats plying to the island!

CHAPTER XXXI.

THE PASS OF ROLAND (PYRENEES).

THE Pyrenean valleys are connected with many tales of ancient chivalry, especially with those relating to Charlemagne and his renowned knights. Of these latter, the most celebrated are Ogier and Roland-the former the conqueror in Catalonia against the Moors; the latter equally the vanquisher of the misbelievers, and held in still greater reverence from the magic powers of his sword, his steed, and his horn, and from his fall in these very regions. Of his sword, no less than of his miraculous strength, tradition has preserved an illustration in the celebrated pass which bears his namethe "Pass of Roland."

Let the reader imagine a wall of rock from 300 to 700 feet high, raised between France and Spain, and

actually separating these countries. Let him then suppose that Roland, mounted on his war-horse and anxious to pass the barrier, has cut near the centre with a stroke of his sword a breach 300 feet in width, and he will then have an idea of what the mountaineers have called the Brêche de Roland.

This pass is renowned in the history of the Middle Ages; it figures in Spanish no less than in French history and was described with wonder by the Mohammedans of the East. Unhappily, it has enough of celebrity even in our own days, for it has been the scene of more than one murder; so wild and lonely a spot is a fit place for any deed of blood. By the peasantry-not in the neighbourhood, for it has no signs of human habitation, but several leagues to the north and south-it is regarded with feelings of hereditary superstition. In this very place, embattled hosts, Moorish and Christian, Spanish and French, often struggled for the victory. At other times, especially during the lawless periods of revolution so common in Arragon, it was the resort of banditti whose caverns commanded the passage, and whose deeds frequently struck dismay along the whole chain of the Pyrenees.

The spirits of the murdered are thought, both by the French and Spanish inhabitants, frequently to hover in these wild solitudes, and their unearthly voices to mingle with the blast. Here, indeed, the wind is almost perpetual being compressed by the sides of the breach, it sometimes acquires tremendous force, and its roaring, like that of a stormy sea, or a park of artillery, may often be heard at a great distance. Of this, when travelling over the Pyrenees, we had more experience than we cared for; for as we ascended the side of the gorge, the haze increased in thickness and the wind in force, and, by the time we arrived at the pass, the blast was fearful; the loosened stones were rolling down the precipices, and the wall above seemed shaking with its