in its wildest parts, only that instead of the covering of grass and heather, which thinly clothes the rocks in the Scottish glen, there was nothing save the bare granite cliffs.

Our expectations were now raised to the utmost pitch, for as soon as we reached the top of the pass we knew that Mount Sinai would be visible. At last we gazed upon its awful form, rising majestically up from the great plain of Râhah, which extends in a gentle slope for more than two miles from the pass to the mountain. It is difficult to describe the varied emotions which agitate one at such a moment, the sublime associations of the spot are of so overlowering a nature. The mountain rises up in sheer precipices from the plain, and seems to stand isolated from the surrounding heights. This is the most imposing point of view it presents; for, as you come nearer to it, the base does certainly slope upwards, not in the sheer abruptness which one would at first imagine. At a distance of perhaps three or four hundred feet from the base the rocks rise up in precipitous smooth red masses, ultimately breaking into several peaks at the top. The plain of Râhah is triangular in shape, and of ample size to contain even the vast host of the Israelites, who probably entered it from the Wady Sheikh which emerges on to the plain. For some time, as we rode across the bare hot plain, we had the convent of Mount Sinai in view. It stands in a valley opening out to the plain with the mountain on one side, and on the other a lofty range of rocky precipices. It is an extensive quadrangular pile of buildings, surrounded by high walls of granite defended by

a few small towers. But what specially struck us was the exquisite beauty of the almond, peach, and apple-trees, in full blossom, which, in this awfully barren region of adamantine rock, looked so unreal and out of place. The prospect, too, of some days repose after our sojourn in the desert, was by no means displeasing, especially as our bread was all finished, and we could not get any more except at the convent. As we approached its walls, the monks, who had doubtless seen our party for some time, let down a small basket attached to a rope, in which we deposited our letter of introduction. This was quickly hoisted up for inspection, and the result was satisfactory, for in a few minutes a large gate leading into the garden was thrown open, and this again conducted to a small postern-door in the convent walls, by means of which we gained admission to the main building.

103

CHAPTER V.

THE SACRED MOUNTAIN AND ITS CONVENT.

IT was on February 29 that we were received within the hospitable walls of this ancient convent, which from the time of its founding, A.D. 527, by the Emperor Justinian, has continued till the present day to afford an asylum for those pilgrims who have come to visit the sublime valleys of Mount Sinai. The monk who admitted us spoke Italian, and presently conducted us to the Superior-a stout, contentedlooking ecclesiastic, apparently about sixty years old-who appreciated a glass of our marsala, accompanied by a cheroot. Refreshments were presently set before us, consisting of capital brown bread, which we greatly enjoyed, dates, and a sort of liqueur, made from date-stones, which was by no means agreeable to our palate. Our rugs, baggage, canteen and other articles, were brought up by the Arabs, and our dragoman bustled about and gave his orders as if he perfectly knew the ways of the place. Some travellers prefer to remain in their tents outside the convent walls; surely a great mistake, when a whole range of bedrooms is at their disposal, besides the luxuries of tables, chairs, clean beds, and glass

windows. The tents will be found exceedingly cold in these high latitudes, and the sensation of space to move about in is a relief, after the very circumscribed limits of a canvas home. We were also allowed to do just as we liked, to roam at will over any part of the convent, no one asking any questions, or taking much notice of us; and, in the heat of the day, it was pleasant to be able to stretch ourselves on the stuffed divans of our bedrooms, and enjoy an undisturbed siesta.

The interior of the convent is of the most irregular form, and the architecture of the rudest description. Long corridors, paved courts and passages, the walls pierced with numerous small square windows, extend, in defiance of any set plan, throughout the interior space. Wooden staircases and galleries conduct to a series of bedrooms, dining halls, and kitchens, for the special use of strangers. From these rooms you can gain access to the flat paved summit of the battlements, from which a fine view is obtained over the plain of Râhah and the noble mountain ranges bounding it on all sides. It is a considerable height from this down to the valley below, where are generally congregated some Bedawin women and children waiting for the supplies of food which are daily furnished to them by the charitable monks. There are about a dozen small courtyards within the walls, some of them cultivated as gardens, and a few cypresses and vines grow here. Ranges of cells occupy the east and north sides, the upper ones solely being tenanted by the monks, while the lower ones are converted into store-houses, which are vaulted

and built of granite in a very solid fashion. The bakehouse and distillery for manufacturing their date-brandy are kept up in good order. Three different sorts of bread are made, the inferior quality being for the Arabs. The other workshops are occupied by the different brethren, who act as cooks, tailors, shoemakers, carpenters, smiths, masons, and other artificers.

There are twenty-seven different chapels within the walls for the various Christian denominations, which are now never used, though incense is kept burning in them. Then there is also a mosque with a minaret, said to have been erected previous to the fourteenth century, which is kept in indifferent order by the Arabs under protection of the convent, but travellers are not encouraged to visit it. The principal building in the convent is the church, dedicated to the Transfiguration, though its outward aspect is anything but imposing. The interior likewise is disappointing, for the fine granite columns of Byzantine architecture, which separate the nave and aisles, have been covered with whitewash, the pictures on the walls are wretchedly bad, and the tesselated marble floor is dirty and unswept. Innumerable lamps of all sizes, among them some rather elegant silver ones, hang from the roof, and old carved stalls for the brethren are ranged along the walls. Service was going on the first time I visited the chapel, but very few of the brethren attended on the occasion, and the officiating monk mumbled over the prayers in a rapid monotone, certainly as far removed from a devotional exercise as anything pretending to be a religious ceremony which it was