a never-ceasing stream of poor pilgrims, who come kneeling, and kissing
the star and the stones and the altar for Christ's sake.

[Illustration: The Market-place, Bethlehem.]

We paused for a while, after we had come up, to ask ourselves whether
what we had seen was in any way credible. Yes, credible, but not
convincing. No doubt the ancient Khan of Bethlehem must have been
somewhere near this spot, in the vicinity of the market-place of the
town. No doubt it was the custom, when there were natural hollows or
artificial grottos in the rock near such an inn, to use them as shelters
and stalls for the cattle. It is quite possible, it is even probable,
that this may have been one of the shallow caverns used for such a
purpose. If so, there is no reason to deny that this may be the place of
the wondrous birth, where, as the old French _Noel_ has it:

"_Dieu parmy les pastoreaux,
Sous la creche des toreaux,
Dans les champs a voulu naistre;
Et non parmy les arroys
Des grands princes et des roys,--
Lui des plus grands roys le maistre._"

But to the eye, at least, there is no reminder of the scene of the
Nativity in this close and stifling chapel, hung with costly silks and
embroideries, glittering with rich lamps, filled with the smoke of
incense and waxen tapers. And to the heart there is little suggestion
of the lonely night when Joseph found a humble refuge here for his young
bride to wait in darkness, pain and hope for her hour to come.

In the church above, the Latins and Armenians and Greeks guard their
privileges and prerogatives jealously. There have been fights here about
the driving of a nail, the hanging of a picture, the sweeping of a bit
of the floor. The Crimean War began in a quarrel between the Greeks and
the Latins, and a mob-struggle in the Church of the Nativity. Underneath
the floor, to the north of the Grotto of the Nativity, is the cave in
which Saint Jerome lived peaceably for many years, translating the Bible
into Latin. That was better than fighting.

II

ON THE ROAD TO HEBRON

We ate our lunch at Bethlehem in a curiosity-shop. The table was spread
at the back of the room by the open window. All around us were hanging
innumerable chaplets and rosaries of mother-of-pearl, of carnelian, of
carved olive-stones, of glass beads; trinkets and souvenirs of all
imaginable kinds, tiny sheep-bells and inlaid boxes and carved fans
filled the cases and cabinets. Through the window came th