The Holy Land is hallowed ground for three great religions of the world. Jews, Moslems, Christians—all of them worshippers of only one god—do reverence at its shrines. Jerusalem is the pilgrimage city of the world. Sacred to the Christians, the centre of Jewish religious devotion and national dreams, it is also a second Mecca to the Mohammedans. The Moslems locate the judgment seat upon the walls surrounding the Mosque of Omar, which stands on the site of Solomon’s great temple. They make their pilgrimages from all parts of the Mohammedan world to worship at this mosque, and prostrate themselves before the sacred rock within it as they do before the holy black stone of Mecca. The prophet Mohammed himself said that Jerusalem was the holiest place in the world, and that one prayer here was worth a thousand elsewhere.

The Christians of the Eastern churches are brought up in much the same faith. They believe that the prayers said within the walls of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre at the foot of Mount Calvary have a wonderful efficacy, and they gather in Jerusalem every Easter by the tens of thousands. From the wilds of Abyssinia, from the flat plains of Egypt, from the mountain fastnesses of Greece, and from all over Russia, even to the borders of Siberia, they come to drop their tears upon the tomb, and to live over the terrible events of Passion Week. They come from all parts of Asia Minor, and the Syrians and the Armenians jostle the Copts and the Arabians on their way to prayers.

In recent years Latin pilgrimages from western Europe and America have been increasing. Bands of Christians come from Italy, France, Spain, and the United States. I was in Jerusalem when the first pilgrimage was made by a body of Christians from America to the Holy City. More than one hundred men and women from all sections of the United States, under the leadership of the Bishop of Tennessee, took part in the Latin celebrations in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre.

Many of these pilgrims are extremely superstitious. Most of them believe that every spot pointed out by the monks is the actual locality of the event alleged to have occurred there. They walk over the Holy Land with staffs in their hands, and kneel down and kiss the places where they believe Jesus trod. They even kiss the stones of the streets of Jerusalem, forgetting or not knowing that there have been three or four Jerusalems buried below the site of the present one.

I have seen pilgrims crawling on their knees through the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. Creeping into the vestibule, they kiss the Stone of Unction upon which it is claimed the body of Christ was anointed for burial.

Near the Stone of Unction is the spot on which it is said the Virgin Mary stood while Christ was on the cross. It also is worn away by kissing. Going on into the great rotunda and turning to the right we reach a church belonging to the Greeks at the front of which stands a column as high as a chair and about as big around as a four-gallon crock. This is the centre of the world, and is honoured as such. I saw Russian peasant girls kissing it, and farther on observed them kissing holy place after holy place until it seemed to me that their lips must wear out. Kisses are pressed upon these spots by thousands of mouths every day, and if every lip leaves its microbes all the diseases of the world must be in the bacteria here.

It is hard to estimate the value of the offerings the pilgrims lay on these shrines. Those who come are of all classes, and some bring the savings of years. The poor lay their pennies in the hands of the priests and drop them in the slot boxes which may be seen at almost every corner. There is much gold, and there are treasures in precious stones. A life-sized image of the Virgin Mary which I saw in the Greek church was covered with diamonds. The image was made of wax, and was dressed in satins and silks. Its face was painted. An oval pearl as big as the end of my thumb hung on the forehead, while on the waxen fingers were a score or more rings. Some of the rings were set with diamonds, some with sapphires and rubies, and others with opals. Opals in Palestine are looked upon as the sign of good luck and not bad, as with us.

Most of the rings were costly and each was presented to the Virgin as a love offering. On the silken lap of the image lay a great golden heart as thick as my fist and about six inches in width. It was studded with emeralds and diamonds. The heart was a present from Franz Josef, Emperor of Austria, who made many costly gifts to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. In the grotto of the Church of the Nativity at Bethlehem is a similar statue, even more gorgeously decorated, although some of the jewels are said to be paste.

The Church of the Holy Sepulchre is a hotbed of superstition. It is supposed to stand on the spot where Christ was crucified. The Bible tells us that this was outside Jerusalem, but the Church of the Sepulchre is to-day far within the walls. This, however, is not a proof that the location is incorrect, for the walls of Jerusalem have been thrown down and rebuilt again and again, especially those on Mount Zion where the great church stands. The hill where Christ was crucified was made up of terraces of rock, and that is the nature of the foundation of this church. The place was located by St. Helena, the mother of Constantine the Great, who came here about three hundred years after Christ died, and found what was said to be the true cross among the rubbish on the side of the hill. She had the cross dug out and carried to Constantinople, whence later on some pieces of it were sent to Rome. One section as long as your arm is said to be in Jerusalem, and there are so many other pieces scattered over the world that I venture you could build a house with them.

Shortly after this discovery, a church was erected on the spot, and since then others have been built, destroyed, and rebuilt, until we now have this great edifice which covers, I should say, an area of several acres. It is surmounted by a cross rising from a dome as big as that of our National Capitol.

The Church of the Holy Sepulchre is not beautiful and its position in the heart of Jerusalem, surrounded by bazaars, convents, monasteries, and hotels, is by no means imposing. The front of it is covered with carvings, some of which are from ancient temples, and over the doors are bas-reliefs of scenes from the Bible. One of these represents the raising of Lazarus, with the Saviour standing at the front and Mary at His feet. At the command of Christ, Lazarus is seen rising from the dead, while in the background are spectators, some of whom are holding their noses as an evidence, perhaps, of the corruption which had begun to take place before Lazarus was brought to life.

Under the dome of the church lies the tomb of the Saviour. It is enclosed in a chapel of an ivory-white marble, which stands in the centre of the rotunda. This chapel is perhaps twenty feet high, twenty-six feet long, and seventeen feet wide. Entering through a door so low that you have to stoop to go in, you finally come into a chamber six feet square and lighted only by candles. This is the alleged tomb of the Saviour. Over it is a marble slab covered with glass to keep the kisses of the pilgrims from wearing the stone. There are always priests here, and all who come in are sprinkled with holy water. Every worshipper brings with him rosaries, beads, and holy pictures which are laid upon the tomb to be blessed. I saw one old woman totter in with a half bushel bag full of rosaries on her back; a frowsy-bearded man came with her, bearing all he could carry. Spreading these out on the slab, they knelt, while the priest sprinkled the beads and gave them his blessing. Before leaving they dropped some coins into his hand. They were Russians and will probably carry these rosaries back home to their friends.

For years more Russians have made the pilgrimage to the Holy Land than almost any other people on the globe. Fifty or sixty thousand of them come here every season. They are brought in by the shipload at Easter time and during the whole spring bodies of pilgrims can be seen going on foot from shrine to shrine throughout Palestine.

Many of the pilgrims land at Haifa, the most northern port of the country. From there they walk over the mountains of Galilee, stopping at Nazareth and then going on to Tiberius. They stop and pray at every holy spot and often kiss the ground where they think Jesus or the saints have trod. From the Sea of Galilee they make their way back to Nazareth, and thence go across the plain of Esdraelon and through Samaria to Jerusalem. I have seen thousands of them at Bethlehem and have met them tramping the weary road to the Dead Sea and the Jordan.

These Russians belong to the Greek Church, which owns most of the monasteries and convents of this country, and which has, all told, property amounting to millions, including some of the best real estate in Jerusalem. It has a great hospice outside the walls of Jerusalem as well as a magnificent church on top of the Mount of Olives. It has other similar institutions elsewhere, and is a great factor in the religious life of the Holy Land.

The Russians have here what is perhaps the largest hotel of the world. Ten thousand people can sleep there in a single night, and it has, besides, separate buildings for families. It is known as the Russian Hospice and lies at the west outside the city wall. It covers a space of ten acres or more and has a high wall about it.

Entering the gates of this hospice, one finds himself surrounded by Russians and Russian scenes. It is a slice of the land of the White Bear dropped down in Judea. There is nothing Syrian in sight. The men dress in caps, long coats, and trousers tucked into high boots. They are long-bearded, long-haired, and fair-faced. There are many red heads among them and none seems to know of the razor. The women are clad in coarse gowns ending at six inches or more from the ankle. Most of them wear boots, but some wear straw shoes, and wrap cloths around their legs in place of stockings. They have handkerchiefs tied about their heads, and their features are usually as hard and rough as those of the men.

But suppose we go into the women’s quarters of this mighty hotel. The building is cut up into stalls which run from one side of it to the other. These tunnel-like rooms are lighted at the end, and standing in a central hall it seems as though the windows were at least two hundred feet distant. Each vault, which is eight feet wide and fifteen feet high, is filled from end to end with rough bunks of pine boards. Upon the boards is straw matting, and a space six feet square forms the bed and home of each woman. At the back of this she piles up the bread, tea, and other belongings she has brought with her from Russia. She sleeps stretched out on the board in the clothing she wears in the daytime. The quarters devoted to the men are of similar nature while those for the families differ only in that the spaces are larger.

These pilgrims bring their bread and tea with them from Russia. In addition to this they have a few vegetables which they buy of the natives. They cook with oil stoves. When on the march each carries some bread along with her and a pan out of which to drink and in which to make tea.

In some parts of the inclosure we can see families at their meals. The men, women, and children sit on the ground around a pot of soup. Each has his own piece of bread and a spoon. They wash their own clothes, using dishpans as tubs. The pans are as big as a bicycle wheel and four inches deep. The washing is done with cold water, which is free in the hospice, but which outside would cost two cents a gallon.

These Russian pilgrims are very religious. They are mostly poor, and many have been saving a lifetime in order that they might make this tour to the Holy Land. They undergo all sorts of hardships and spend their time in fasting and prayer. They have a church inside the hospice where services are held twice a day. I have attended the church several times. It is always full of people standing or kneeling. They cross themselves again and again as the service goes on, and now and then get down and bow their heads to the floor. There are similar services in the other Greek churches. I attended one on the Mount of Olives where the reading of the Scriptures and the singing were done by Russian nuns dressed in black with stove-pipe hats without brims crowning their heads. The hats ended in a cape or veil which fell down the back. The faces of the nuns were uncovered and spiritual looking. Their singing was exceedingly sweet, and the service was impressive. The pilgrims who listened knelt and now and then kissed the bare floor.

At Easter time the water of the River Jordan is blessed by the high priest of the Church, and there are many priests to baptize the Faithful in the sacred river. The women and men dress in white garments and go into the water together. They change their clothes on the shore. The garments they wear in the water are usually shrouds, which they have brought from home with them for this purpose, and which they intend to take back to be used at their burials.

The scenes of these baptisms make one think of a picnic. The men, women, and children rush about, some laughing and screaming, and others quietly talking. The priests dip each three times in the Jordan, giving their blessing as they do so. After baptism some soak other shrouds in the river to consecrate them that they may carry them home to their friends. They also drink of the dirty water and bottle it up to take home. Some of the pilgrims are old and have to be lifted in and out of the river. The current is swift, and frequently men are drowned.