Ascending some twenty steps into a small chapel, the guide lifted up a gilded star in the floor, and shewed what is called the hole in the rock where the cross was fixed. In a dark chapel underneath, lighted by a single lamp, he pointed to the well-known fissure in the rock, pretended to be the rent that was made when Jesus died. We had little patience to go round all the spots accounted sacred under the roof of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre; and each of us felt the blush of honest indignation rising in our face at the mingled folly and profanity of the whole scene. To do the monks justice, they seemed to have as little feeling of reverence toward the holy place as we could possibly have, and Ibraim, our Arab servant who accompanied us, was fully as deeply impressed as any of the party.

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