A good minister visited this place, accompanied by a train of servants,
and camels, and asses.
It is not easy to travel in Palestine, for wheels are never seen there,
because the paths are too steep, and rough, and narrow for carriages.
Bethlehem is on a steep hill, and a white road of chalk leads up to the
gate. The traveller found the streets narrow, dark, and dirty. He lodged
in a convent, kept by Spanish monks. He was shown into a large room with
carpets and cushions on the floor. There he was to sleep. He was led up
to the roof of the house to see the prospect. He looked, and beheld the
fields below where the shepherds once watched their flocks by night: and
far off he saw the rocky mountains where David once hid himself from
Saul.
But the monks soon showed him a more curious sight. They took him into
their church, and then down some narrow stone steps into a round room
beneath. "Here," said they, "Jesus was born." The floor was of white
marble, and silver lamps were burning in it. In one corner, close to the
wall, was a marble trough, lined with blue satin. "There," said the
monks, "is the manger where Jesus was laid." "Ah!" thought the traveller,
"it was not in such a manger that my Saviour rested his infant head; but
in a far meaner place."
These monks have an image of a baby, which they call Jesus. On
Christmas-day they dress it in swaddling-clothes and lay it in the
manger: and then fall down and worship it.
The next day, as the traveller was ready to mount his camel, the people
of Bethlehem came with little articles which they had made. But he would
not buy them, because they were images of the Virgin Mary and her holy
child, and little white crosses of mother-of-pearl. They were very
pretty: but they were idols, and God hates idols.