the lofty eminence. We hurried impatiently to the highest point, and then turning to the westward, a magnificent panoramic view of the whole of Jerusalem and of the surrounding country suddenly burst upon our sight. From Sear's Pictorial Illustrations of the Bible.] MOUNT OF OLIVES. After ascending once more into broad daylight, we crossed over the rocky path leading to the summit of the Mount of Olives, and The present city with its churches, mosques, we then arrived at a square plot of ground houses, gardens, and fortifications, lay extendenclosed by a low rough wall of loose stones, ed immediately below, and the eye took in at and overshadowed by eight enormous olive- a bird's-eye-view, every house and street, and trees, which appear to be of very great anti-almost every yard of ground. The scene was quity. This is alleged to be the Garden of Gethsemane, "over the brook Cedron, to which JESUS oft-times resorted with his disciples." A piece of ground, marked off from the rest of the garden, is confidently pointed out as the spot where our SAVIOUR was betrayed by Judas, when the latter, "having re-mon's Temple. The one on the north is the ceived a band of men and officers from the chief priests and Pharisees, came thither with|| lanterns, and torches, and weapons," (St. John, xviii.) It is called by the Italian monks "la terra dannata ;” or the "accursed ground." This is certainly a most interesting spot. It is near the brook Cedron, and to the ancient road leading from the Mount of Olives into Jerusalem, and of all the tales and traditions treasured up among the pilgrims and ecclesiastics, this carries with it the greatest degree of probability. But here, again, the absurd minuteness of identification made use of, only tends to throw an air of ridicule over the whole history. A ledge of rocks at the upper end of the garden is confidently pointed out as the very spot where our SAVIOUR found the disciples "sleeping for sorrow," and "a stone's cast" thence is a small excavation, called the grotto of Gethsemane, which is positively affirmed to be the identical spot where our SAVIOUR "kneeled down and prayed, saying FATHER, if thou be willing, remove this cup from me; nevertheless, not my will, but thine be done," (St. Luke.) The grotto is covered by a small chapel, the keys of which are kept by the monks of the Latin convent. certainly very imposing, and the appearance of the city, with its domes and cupolas, and the minarets of the mosques, is from this point of view quite magnificent. The first objects which strike the eye, are the two magnificent mosques occupying the site of Solo celebrated mosque of Omar; that on the south, is the mosque El Aksa. They are close to that portion of the city-walls which immediately borders on the Mount of Olives, and with the courts, porticoes, and gardens attached to them, they occupy a fourth part of the whole place, and present a most imposing appearance. The town rises gradually above these, and the most prominent object beyond is the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, with its two domes of striking aspect; the one being white and the other almost black. Here and there a lofty tower or a tapering minaret rises above the gloomy stone houses of the natives. Of these, the lofty tower or minaret, said to be built on the site of the house of Pilate, with its galleries and Saracenic decorations, appear most prominently to the eye, and the minarets of Ben Israel, of the Seraglio, and the one said to be placed on the site of Herod's palace. Most of the private dwellings were covered with low domes, and my intelligent cicerone pointed out to me the different churches and convents, and a long range of stone buildings surmounted by small cupolas, which he said was a college of dervishes. Altogether, the city, as seen from the summit of the Mount of Olives, may be ranked as The olive-trees overshadowing this enclosed one of the finest of oriental cities in its exterplot of ground, appear to be of very great an-nal aspect. A long line of battlemented walls, tiquity, and are held in the highest veneration by Christians of all sects, who positively affirm that they are the identical trees which stood on the spot in our SAVIOUR's time! The trunks of the largest of these trees are of great size and of immense girt: they have become splintered and shrivelled with age, and are certainly great curiosities as vegetable productions. Leaving the "Garden of Gethsemane," we traversed a steep path which ascends from the bed of the brook Cedron to the summit of the Mount of Olives. Numerous olive-trees were scattered along the sides of the declivity, and around a mosque and covent which crown with their towers and gates, extends the whole way round the town, and a few cypresses and other trees throw up their lofty branches amid the porticoes and gates of the mosques. After the surprise and admiration which this prospect at first naturally excites have subsided, the bare, rocky, and desolate aspect of the surrounding country, and the solitude and silence of the city itself, most forcibly attract the attention. Neither in the streets, at the gateways, nor along the rocky muletracks leading therefrom, is there aught of life or animation. Some solitary woman, with her water-pitcher, climbing the craggy eminence, or some slowly-moving pilgrims, are alone seen. The eye, on a closer scrutiny, discovers large tracks of open and waste ground within the walls, and many a ruined house and dilapidated building. There is none of the bustle and animation ordinarily perceptible about a large town. No moving crowds traverse the public thoroughfares; the ear strives in vain to catch the noise and hum of a large city, for such it appears to be; all is strangely and sadly silent." The noise of the whip, and the noise of the wheels, and the prancing of horses, and the jumping of chariots," are no longer heard in Jerusalem. THE ASCENSION. Were I to attempt to describe those sensations I experienced when I stood on the very ground trodden by the sacred feet of the SON of GOD, language would fall infinitely short of it. I can only say, that a glow of delight was kindled in my heart greater than I had at any former period enjoyed. Never shall I forget this deeply interesting moment; and to taste that pleasure, the reader must not only possess a heart sincere in the belief of revelation, but stand on the spot, and be favoured with a vivid image of that grand and glorious work of redemption, which was here consummated by CHRIST before the eyes of those who were the favoured witnesses of his glory, when he ascended to the right hand of the Majesty on high, and "opened the kingdom of heaven to all believers." "Heaven's portals wide extend to let him in, it was on this sacred elevation the Redeemer had sat, and in front of the temple, when his disciples conversed with him as to those signs and calamities which should precede the destruction of what he had foretold, (Matt. xxiv, 1–3.) SAMARÍA AND THE SAMARITANS. As there is at the present time much interest manifest ed in every thing relative to the Jews, we give, in connection with our beautiful cut, and narrative of a visit to the Mount of Olives and Jerusalem, the following interesting extracts of a letter from Dr. Bowring, containing an account of his visit to Samaria and the Samaritans. One of my principal motives for wishing tion, and, if possible, to make the acquaintance to visit Sychar, was to ascertain the situaof that fragment of the old Samaritans who still inhabit their ancient capital, still observe their ancient rites, still preserve the most remarkble peculiarities which characterized them at the period of the gospel history; and my inquiries were greatly facilitated by the circumstances around me. I found that the number of Samaritan fami lies now living at Sychar is 11, consisting of about 120 persons. They are very careful in their registration of births, marriages, and deaths, and profess to have the ancestry of the principal individuals of their body up to the time of Moses. "The numbering of the people" takes place every year; and they assured me, they observed the greatest accuracy in their family records. Their number had at one period been reduced to as low as 60 individuals, but they were now somewhat on the increase. For their chief priest, who, as they avow, is directly descended from Shem In the centre of three pinnacles on the (and who himself wrote out for me his family mount, our LORD is said to have stood; and genealogy in Arabic,) they entertain the in a rock is the impression of the left foot or highest reverence. His influence over the sandal of a man, ten inches long and four little community seems boundless. They broad, represented as that he left on his as- told me they had no positive information of cent to the heavenly regions; and, after all, any Samaritans except themselves, who "all it is not improbable that those who witnessed worshipped on Mount Gerizim;" but they had his triumphal departure might, in their zeal || heard that some of their faith were scattered to retain the memorial of so striking an event, in distant lands, and still preserved the relitrace an outline on the last spot of earthgious usages of their forefathers. They had touched by the sacred feet of the LORD. No even been told that there were Samaritans in person, in any degree acquainted with the England, and in the English countries to the word of God, can stand on this commanding east, (meaning British India,) and were very height, from which Jerusalem appears to be curious to know whether I knew or had ever under the feet, without reflecting on the heard of such Samaras or Samaritans, and boundless field which opens for contempla- whether it would be possible to establish inting the infinite variety of stupendous events tercourse with them. They seemed much that occurred on this chosen part of the earth afflicted when I told them that I believed during past ages. Such considerations, then, there was no reason to suppose that any of are most strikingly calculated to stamp deep- their race existed in any portion of the British ly on the soul of man feelings of the most empire. They said they had been visited by profound veneration. It may be added, that" many Christians, and especially by English Christians, of whom they spoke with great "Here is the law," he said, "here is the book, respect, and asked me to explain why a na- here are the very words. They (the Jews) tion so far away should take any interest in a could not deny the authority, so they falsified few poor families who were neither Chris- the passage." I obtained from the chief priest tians, nor Jews, nor Mussulmans. I asked a specimen, a very tolerable fac-simile of a them whether they had ever heard that our part of the Samaritan Pentateuch, and the Prophet had spoken of one of their nation as scribe promised that he would give me a the good Samaritan,—referring to his conduct copy of the verse which the Jews are assertas a model of humanity and charity? I re-ed to have eliminated from the original text; peated to them the parable as it was taught but I have not yet received it. by our Saviour; and the chief priest answered, "We had at that time a good Hakin (physician) among us-surely it must have been he!" And they told me of a tradition among them, that this Hakin was universally honoured for his active beneficence. Had their tradition its origin in Christian history, or was the parable of Jesus itself a reference to a tradition existing in the time of our Lord? streets. In their domestic manners and customs, the Samaritans are but little distinguished from the races that surround them. They are bigamists, but no polygamists; and divorce is of easy attainment. Their women veil themselves like the Syrians in general; for the practice of veiling now pervades all classes; and I have often heard it inquired by Syrian Christian ladies, whether the respectable women of England were so immodest as to walk out with uncovered faces? It would not appear that the use of the veil was so universal in the patriarchal times, nor was it habitual. It is recorded of Rebecca, that she veiled herself, but only when Isaac approached her as a stranger; when she rode on her camel in the presence of her servants, her face was uncovered; and in the case of Tamar, the circumstance of her being veiled was deemed injurious to her reputation. But in the apostolic times the veiling or covering the head had become a general practice, and Mahomet, whose ritual recognised so many of the usages of Oriental life, made the veiling of women a peremptory religious duty. In fact, a stronger reproach cannot be addressed to a Mussulman lady than that her face had been seen out of the harem. When, by any accident or intrusion, a stranger encounters an unveiled woman in the East, she generally shrieks out aloud, and exclaims, "O my misfortune!" "O my misery!" and in these particulars the Samaritans are not distinguished from their neighbours. I was escorted by the Samaritan scribe to the temple, through many dark and winding On reaching the portal, he required me to take off my shoes, as did he and the other worshippers, some of whom were in the|| act of prayer, prostrate on the ground, with their foreheads pressing the dust. The chief priest came to meet me-a man of calm, sober, and imposing mein, with a long white beard, little distinguished from those around him by his dress; his countenance, however, and the countenances around me, having nothing of the Hebrew expression, but resembling much those of the Druses of Mount Lebanon, the ancient Syrian race. His reception was most cordial. He introduced to me his son, and his son's sons, his successors in the priesthood, which he said he had held in inheritance from the time of the giving the law. He spoke calmly of Christians and Musselmans, but of the Jews with extreme bitterness as corrupters of the Holy Book, who had turned away the true worshippers from the sacred Mount Gerizim. He brought from the interior of the temple the ancient copy of the Pentateuch, which he assured me was the unpolluted original, and was 3,460 years old. It was in a silver tin case, covered with scar-tors of the purity of the Mosaic faith-the let silk; he allowed me to unroll it. Its ap- guardians of the holy writ-the favourites of pearance was of far higher antiquity than any Jehovah, into whose hands were committed, MSS. I have ever seen. It has been carefully to be preserved through all time, the truths and frequently repaired; it is in the old Sa- communicated to the patriarchs by the great maritan character, and I found it was read law giver. He referred to the preservation with facility by himself and his descendants, of their Pentateuch as an evidence of divine and was habitually used in the service of the favour. Our land, said he, has passed from temple. But the language has ceased to be conqueror to conqueror! we have been peremployed for colloquial purposes among the secuted by one set of invaders after another; Samaritans, though they all profess to under- our town, our country, have been the seat of stand it—and they may, perhaps, to about the civil war; three times have we been comsame extent in which Hebrew is understood pelled to hide our Holy Book in the recesses by the Jews. The chief priest frequently re- of Mount Gerizim, where it once remained verted to the controversy as to the superior concealed for more than seventy years; but sanctity of Mount Gerizim or Jerusalein. "we still exist, a nation apart, with our own But small as is their number, great is their national pride. The chief priest told me he considered they were the appointed conserva acterized them when Jesus and the apostles sojourned among them more than eighteen centuries ago.-Weekly Christian Teacher. away, Written for the Ladies' Garland. temple, our language, the customs of our fathers; and you see before you now three generations of our priests--myself, my son's sons, (pointing to a middle aged man who hung over him while he was speaking, and two little boys who were sitting at his feet.) MR. EDITOR-I once more intrude upon In truth, the whole body of the Samaritans, your notice the following poetic rhapsody. though removed from abject poverty, are not It has been so long since I have had a visit to many degrees above that condition. I in- Parnassus, that I fear the muses have forquired who was the richest man among them, saken me. However, I cannot consent, as and was told that 2000 piastres (£20 sterling) yet, "To throw the lute aside," and abandon was probably the largest fortune among them. the sweet melody of song. No! let me have But the Mahommedan governor bore testi- but a friend whose smiles can win and captimony to their general respectability. He vate, and whose gentle voice can soothe and said they were a quiet and harmless people, gladden the heart; and with a harp inspired and among the most trustworthy of the popu-with the poet's phrensy, I'll sing life's cares lation of Nablous. The governor, however, did not confirm their statements as to their unshaken fidelity to the faith of their fathers. He said that many of them had become Mussulmans, and that there had been a notable diminution of their numbers. Their enmity against the Jews is so strong, that no Hebrew is admitted into the Samaritan synagogue. Happily the ill will that exists has seldom an opportunity of wreaking itself on individuals, for in Nablous, there are no resident Jews, and it may be doubted if any of the Samaritans ever come in contact with their rivals. The governor told me he was not sure that the Jews ever visited his capital. I had no opportunity of ascertaining whether the feeling of dislike was reciprocal between them and the Samaritans. Perhaps few of them are aware of the existence of any of the Samaritan race. The existence of the Samaritans in their present unchanged condition, representing as they do the habits, language, opinions, and ritual of their ancient nation, is one of the most interesting facts with which I am acquainted. During my abode among them, 1 could not dissociate my mind from the fancy that I was living in the very days of the apostles. So little altered was the phraseology, so kindred the prejudices, so similar the worship to those of which the narrative of the New Testament has conveyed to us the record, that I could hardly fancy sixty generations had passed away since the time when that narrative was written; for as every fact reported is accordant with the existing state of things, so there is an abiding truth and life in every touch left by the gospel historians. My second visit to Nablous was the sequence of my being unable to enter Jerusalem, in consequence of the plague having broken out in the holy city; but the disappointment has almost ceased to be a subject of regret, when I think of the opportunity which that disappointment gave me of passing another day at the foot of Mount Gerizim, among the men and women of Samaria, still! to be seen, still to be studied, in all that char "And sorrow my bosom shall never inthrall." MY HARP. My harp has lost its melting tones, Which once could soothe my care; A wildness o'er my spirit comes, Though 'midst the gay and happy ones, Whose smiles I ever share. O! would the muses but inspire My harp with one sweet strain; And never grieve again. My harp has yielded many a strain O! could I strike those chords again, Though now on willows hung; "In years when I was young." Where feathered choirs sung, And groves with music rung. Its soothing tones may tell of peace, Where seraph anthems ring. There is a friend whose smiles can cheer In love's sweet revelry. With wildest minstrelsy; A harp whose melting strains combine J. R. L The following tale was written by one of the most highly gifted poets in America. CONFESSIONS OF A VICTIM. I am the only son of reputable and wealthy parents. Early in life I entered into a mercantile house in New York, for the purpose of acquiring a knowledge of the business, preparatory to commencing, on my own responsibility, a mercantile career. At this time I was eighteen, and had but recently returned from my academic studies at New Haven. My person, at that early period, was good; my mind polished by education, and my manners, if not graceful, were easy. I was glad of heart and ambitious of distinction; eager for reputation of integrity, and an enthusiast in my admiration of genius. My associates were reputable and sons of gentlemen; the prospect before me was excellent, and my life glided onward like a placid stream. It was within a few weeks of my nineteenth birthday, that I became acquainted with Amelia Montfort. She was a being of perfect virtue, of transcendant beauty, and of uncommon mind—had an eye for the beauties of nature, and a soul for the spell of poesy. She was three years my junior; her beauty rather in blossom than the bud, and her intellect more remarkable for its gift of imagination than for its power. She had mingled little in society; knew less of the heartlessness of mankind; and her heart was the temple of enthusiastic and ardent, but of hallowed feelings. For myself, I had mingled much in female society; had passed many "a thin red lip," and bowed before many a rich dark eye. Amelia was a glad creature, a "girl in gentleness," and a high souled woman," in dignity; and when she elicited admiration, it was ever blended with esteem. Mingled in her temperament, also, there was a tinge of romance; it was the romance rather of devoted feeling than of affected sentiment, and even when her affections were hoarded up in the sanctuary of her own pure bosom, she acknowledged their burning intensity, and confessed the idolatry which would mingle in her love. In brief, Amelia became the beau ideal of my fancy, and ere I knew her many months was her ardent admirer. My thoughts were bound up in the frenzy of my feelings; affection had imparted to my character a new tinge, and to my habits ano-|| ther current. In my communings with that being, I was supremely happy. There was enchantment in the very atmosphere she breathed; my dreams caught their delirious raptures from her memory, and my waking thoughts dwelt constantly upon Amelia. She was worthy of all my regard; worthy of all devotion, and every hour seemed to unfold some estimable trait in her character. When I was twenty years of age we were married. My father relinquished his business in my favour, and life glided on for another year, all sunshine and happiness. By this time I had gone out more frequently to mingle with the world; became interested in politics, and thirsted for power. I was engaged in a lucrative mercantile career; my family was influential, and my aid readily accepted, if not courted, by the wily and perfidious minions of office. Gradually I became deeply interested in political warfare; gradually I forgot the spell of my wife's virtue and affections; and, gradually, there was a delirium and joy in the wine cup, and I became one of the votaries of Bacchus. I cannot portray how insidiously the charm wove into my senses, and frittered away my faculties. It now seems as a terrible and impossible dream; but the horrors of that dream are imprinted with letters of fire upon my brain. The agonies of my remorse have been as serpents gnawing the tenderest vitals of my existence. I gaze back upon the past, and would fain blot its hallowed moments from the page of my being. But to continue. With "stealthy steps and slow," I became the victim of intemperance; neglected my business, and was a bankrupt; was at first pointed at and pitied by my friends and relatives, and, at last, shunned and despised as a disgrace and a dishonour. It was many months before my wife could bring herself to the conviction that I was a drunkard. I, that had come to her in youth and beauty; I, that had called forth and broken up the inmost recesses of her soul; I, that was applauded for my integrity, honoured for my virtue, and emulated for my character!-how could she deem me a drunkard; a loathed and contemptible sot; a disgrace to my name, and a disgrace to humanity? She closed her eyes for a weary period upon a truth so horrible, and endeavoured to shut out from her senses and her understanding the blackness of my guilt. Oh God! how that being clung to and worshipped me, even amid the abject contumely of my degradation. How she clung amid the wretchedness of her despair, to the hope that I might be retrieved. How she wept and persuaded, and endeavoured to fascinate me back to my domestic enjoyments, and to keep me, even for one night, from the dens of iniquity and the revelry of crime! How she "threw her white arms around me," besought me, with earnest looks and pure caresses, to remember my early vows; to remember my own happiness, her peace of mind, and my father's cares for the sake of his only child, and the heir to his hitherto unspotted fame. Oh my God! how |