l of instruction and interest. Since the time of Prince Edward and
Eleanor, this visit was the first paid by an heir of the crown of
England to these sacred regions. We close our notice with a short
extract from the pages of this pleasant book.

'That long cavalcade, sometimes amounting to one hundred and fifty
persons, of the Prince and his suite, the English servants, the troop of
fifty or a hundred Turkish cavalry, their spears glittering in the sun,
and their red pennons streaming in the air, as they wound their way
through the rocks and thickets, and over the stony ridges of Syria, was
a sight that enlivened even the tamest landscape, and lent a new charm
even to the most beautiful. Most remarkably was this felt on our first
entrance into Palestine, and on our first approach to Jerusalem. The
entrance of the Prince into the Holy Land was almost on the footsteps of
Richard Coeur de Lion, and of Edward I, under the tower of Ramleh, and
in the ruined Cathedral of St. George, at Lydda. Thence we had climbed
the pass of Joshua's victory at Bethhoron, had caught the first glimpse
of Jerusalem from the top of the Mosque of the Prophet Samuel, where
Richard had stood and refused to look on the Holy Sepulchre which he was
not thought worthy to rescue. Then came the full view of the Holy City
from the northern road, the ridge of Scopus--the view immortalized in
Tasso's description of the first advance of the Crusaders. The cavalcade
had now swelled into a strange and motley crowd. The Turkish governor
and his suite--the English consul and the English clergy--groups of
uncouth Jews--Franciscan monks and Greek priests--here and there under
the clumps of trees, groups of children singing hymns--the stragglers at
last becoming a mob--the clatter of the horses' hoofs on the hard stones
of that rocky and broken road drowning every other sound--such was the
varied procession, which, barbarous as it was, still seemed to contain
within itself the representatives, or, if one will, the offscourings of
all nations, and thus to combine the impressive, and, at the same time,
the grotesque and melancholy aspect which so peculiarly marks the modern
Jerusalem. Our tents were pitched outside the Damascus Gate, near the
scene of the encampment of Godfrey de Bouillon, and from thence we
explored the city and the neighborhood.'

FREEDOM AND WAR: Discourses on Topics suggested by the Times. By
HENRY WARD BEECHER. Boston: Ticknor & Fie