His limbs yielded inertly to the rude men
that handled them, and down he went into his grave, so roughly
bundled in that his neck was twisted by the fall, so twisted, that
if the sharp malady of life were still upon him the old man would
have shrieked and groaned, and the lines of his face would have
quivered with pain. The lines of his face were not moved, and the
old man lay still and heedless, so well cured of that tedious life-
ache, that nothing could hurt him now. His clay was ITSELF AGAIN--
cool, firm, and tough. The pilgrim had found great rest. I threw
the accustomed handful of the holy soil upon his patient face, and
then, and in less than a minute, the earth closed coldly round him.
I did not say "alas!" (nobody ever does that I know of, though the
word is so frequently written). I thought the old man had got
rather well out of the scrape of being alive, and poor.
The destruction of the mere buildings in such a place as Jerusalem
would not involve the permanent dispersion of the inhabitants, for
the rocky neighbourhood in which the town is situate abounds in
caves, which would give an easy refuge to the people until they
gained an opportunity of rebuilding their dwellings; therefore I
could not help looking upon the Jews of Jerusalem as being in some
sort the representatives, if not the actual descendants, of the
rascals who crucified our Saviour.
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