court was entered by a passage leading from the first, and was evidently the feature of the mansion. It was ablaze with light, reflected from the creamy white walls and the polished mosaic pavement, a brightness that would have been glaring had not its effect been softened by a broad border of tropical plants and shrubs. Palm, orange, citron, pomegranate. rose and jessamine threw their light shadows on the pavement and filled the warm air with perfume. A graceful colonnade along one side of the court afforded shade at all hours, and the play of water in a large fountain gave refreshing coolness. All the rooms of the household opened on this charming substitute for a hall. One one side (at right angles to the colonnade) two large and handsome reception-rooms for the master and mistress of the house were divided by a lofty, arched recess (open to the court), where soft rugs, and heaps of silken cushions made a charmingly luxurious nest. Opposite these, a handsome suite of rooms, finished in marble, was fitted with every appliance for Turkish baths. It had been intimated to us that we might be presented to the lady of the house, but lack of time had forced us to decline. However, as we were leaving, one of the servants motioned us to look through a small, open window into the adjoining room. There, curled up on the divan, was a lovely woman in native dress, smoking a cigarette. It was the lady of the house, and she had evidently posed for our benefit. The same afternoon we were very unexpectedly introduced to another Damascus interior in a rather extraordinary manner. Returning from a visit to the house of Ananias, we saw a very large and apparently excited crowd in the street ahead. They were making a tremendous noise, aided by a drum or two and some musical instruments. The Doctor's desire for useful knowledge led us to move nearer in order to see what it meant. We got a little too near, for we were suddenly surrounded by a very demonstrative crowd, which carried us along in spite of our efforts to escape. We were swept up a narrow lane, then into a low, dark passage of such unsavoury odour, that someone mercifully sprinkled us with rose-water. Breathless, and somewhat alarmed, we came to light again in a very small court, which instantly filled with people; those who failed to get in swarmed on the walls and roofs overlooking it. Without knowing why we went, we found ourselves in a tiny house on one side of the court; it was full of people in the same state of excitement, but they seemed peaceably inclined. They motioned us to the windows, piled cushions on the floor; cigarettes, coffee, and a bottle of arrack were produced, as if by magic; and we realized at last that we were invited to assist at some festivity. Meanwhile, the noise in the court was deafening; they were dancing, brandishing swords, singing and shouting as if they had gone mad with glee; and the people in the house regarded the whole scene with great complacency. Abdallah managed to get near enough to explain that the oldest son of the owner had been on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, and his friends had gone out to meet him on his return, and rejoice over his safe arrival. Having the key to the puzzle, we soon picked out the "pilgrim.”* He was a dark-eyed youth, with a gentle, pleasant face, and he seemed well pleased with the hubbub around him. It was impossible to doubt, from the constant glances up at the windows, that the actors considered that the éclat of the occasion was greatly heightened by the presence of the strangers. We had some difficulty in getting out through the crowd, and, being by this time somewhat ruffled, we resolved to grace no more triumphal processions. CORNWALL, Ont. Many groups of these pilgrims we met throughout the country, on their way to or from the holy places of Jerusalem. See the little group on page 108. OVER THE SEMMERING RAILWAY AND BY THE EDITOR. ON a beautiful day in May, 1892, I left the city of Vienna for the ride over the famous Semmering Pass. In a few minutes the stately city, with its towers and cupolas, high above all rising the beautiful spire of St. Stephen's church, was left behind. As we rode through the pleasant suburbs, on our right lay the Schönbrunnen Park and a little beyond begin the Sandstone Hills, once the shore of the Sarmatian Sea. We carries the water from the get a glimpse of the aqueduct which mountain springs to Vienna, and of sundry artificial ruins, symbols of the pseudo-romanticism which prevailed at the time of their erection. In an hour we pass Weiner Neustadt, an important manufacturing town, the birthplace of the Emperor Maximilian I. In the ducal castle is the most preposterous coat-of-arms probably in existence, that of Frederick III., with eighty-nine quarterings, and his favourite motto in which he monopolizes all the vowels, A, E, I, O, U,-Austria est imperare orbi universo,"Austria is to rule the world." The Semmering railway is one of the oldest mountain lines in Europe, and is remarkable for the boldness of its engineering and the grandeur of the scenery through which it passes. thirty-five miles there are thirteen tunnels and eighteen viaducts. The latter were made before the use of iron was introduced, and are, therefore, conspicuous for their massy strength and solidity. The construction of this part of the line cost $300,000 per mile. Some of the bridges have stone piers one hundred and ten feet high, structures compared with which the great works of the Romans sink into insignificance. The bright spring foliage clothed every mountain slope; the |