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SIR ALEXANDER BALL was one of those great men who adorned our navy at the end of the last century. Though less known, perhaps, to the present generation, than several of his contemporaries, he was inferior to none of them; and, in many respects, it would be difficult to name his equal. To bravery, decision, and energy, he added a sound judgment, a meditative mind, and the most unwearied benevolence. The following anecdotes are from the pen of his friend, the poet Coleridge. In a large party at the Grand Master's Palace, in Malta, I had observed a naval officer, of distinguished merit, listening to Sir A. Ball whenever he joined in the conversation, with a mixed expression of awe and affection, that gave a more than common interest to so manly a countenance. This officer afterwards told me that he considered himself indebted to Sir Alexander for that which was dearer to him than his life. "When he was Lieutenant Ball," said he, "he was the officer I accompanied in my first boat-expedition, being then a midshipman, and only in my fourteenth year. As we were rowing up to the vessel which we were to attack, amid a discharge of musketry, I was overpowered by fear, and seemed on the point of fainting away. Lieutenant Ball, who saw the condition I was in, placed himself close beside me, and still keeping his countenance directed towards the enemy, pressed my hand in the most friendly manner, and said in a low voice, Courage, my dear boy, you will recover in a minute or so; I was just the same when I first went out in this way. Sir," added the officer to me, "it was as if an angel had put a new soul into me. With the feeling that I was not yet dishonoured, the whole burden of agony was removed; and, from that moment, I was as fearless and forward as the oldest of the boat's crew."

For some time a coldness existed between Lord (then Captain) Nelson and Captain Ball. When both their ships were together close off Minorca, Nelson's vessel was nearly disabled by a violent storm, and Captain Ball took it in tow, and used his best endeavours to bring her into Port Mahon. Nelson, believing that both ships would be lost, requested Captain Ball to let him loose, and on his refusal became impetuous, and enforced his demand with passionate threats. Captain Ball then took a speaking-trumpet and calmly replied, I feel confident that I can bring you in safe; I, therefore, must not, and, by the help of Almighty God, I will not, leave you!" What he promised he performed; and after they were safely anchored, Nelson came on board of Ball's ship, and embracing him with all the ardour of acknowledgment, exclaimed, A friend in need is a friend indeed." This was the beginning of a firm and perfect friendship between these two great men. -COLERIDGE'S Friend.

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SWARTZ.-It was in compliance with Hyder Ali's request, that Swartz was sent to him to treat of peace. Hyder's message was in these words to the Council at Madras: "Do not send me any of your agents, for I do not trust their words or treaties; but, if you wish me to listen to your proposals, send to me the Missionary, of whose character I hear so much from every one; him will I receive and trust."

IN one of the Newcastle Collieries, thirty-five men and forty-one boys died by suffocation, or were starved to death. One of the boys was found dead with a Bible by his side, and a tin-box, such as colliers use; within the lid he had contrived to engrave with the point of a nail this last message to his parent and brother: "Fret not, my dear mother, for we are singing the praises of God while we have time. Mother, follow God more than ever I did. Joseph, think of God, and be kind to poor mother."

"ENVY, hatred, malice," and all other malignant passions, as sources of madness, scarcely need be touched upon; indeed, the intellect is half gone, before the individual can be brought to the indulgences of these corroding excitations. I am not a disciple of Owen. I verily think that life without passion were a sorry existence indeed,―a Chinese landscape, without proportion or perspective, light or shadows; but I am enthusiast enough to suppose, that a gradual improvement is coming to be effected upon society at large, by a growing conviction, that to envy, and hate, and destroy our fellow-men, is not only unchristian but unmeaning.-UWINS on Mental Disorders.

AN excellent father of our Church gives us this rule; "Always in a case of doubt, choose the side which you find least agreeable,"

TIMES GO BY TURNS.

THE lopped tree in time may grow again,
Most naked plants renew both fruit and flower.
The sorriest wight may find release of pain,

The driest soil suck in some moist ning shower.
Times go by turns, and chances change by course,
From foul to fair, from better hap to worse.
The sea of Fortune doth not ever flow,

She draws her favours to the lowest ebb;
Her tides have equal times to come and go;
Her loom doth weave the fine and coarsest web.
No joy so great but runneth to an end,
No hap so hard but may in fine amend.
Not always fall of leaf, nor ever spring;
No endless night, nor yet eternal day.
The saddest birds a season find to sing;

The roughest storm a calm may soon allay.
Thus, with succeeding turns, Gop tempereth all,
That man may hope to rise, yet fear to fall.
A chance may win that by mischance was lost;
That net that holds no great takes little fish;
In some things all, in all things none are crost,
Few all they need, but none have all they wish.
Unmingled joys here to no man befal,

Who least hath some, who most hath never all.
ROBERT SOUTHWELL, born in 1560

THE sun, in its course, awakens Christians to the duties of prayer and praise. And thus the holy fire of the church's devotion never expires. As weariness and sleep steal over the worshippers of one quarter of the world, others are rising refreshed, to take up the heavenly exercise, and to join in their turn in the unceasing adoration of angels, and of the spirits of the just made perfect. Let the Christian who wastes the best hours of the day in his bed, reflect that while he is thus indolent, others are celebrating the praises of God, and pouring forth their prayers in behalf of the church of Christ, and the whole family of mankind. Who, then, would be last in the heavenly work? Who would indulge his laziness, by remaining late in his bed, while his next-door neighbour, may be, is on his knees in prayer; and the same Father who sees the sluggard's indolence, hears also the supplications of the diligent?

I WILL never more call that sinner prosperous, who after he hath been permitted to finish his business, shall die and perish miserably; for at the same rate, we may envy the happiness of a poor fisherman, who, while his nets were drying, slept upon the rock and dreamt that he was made a king, on a sudden starts up, and leaping for joy, falls down from the rock, and in the place of his imaginary felicities, loses his little portion of pleasure, and innocent solaces, he had from the sound sleep and little cares of his humble cottage.-JEREMY TAYLOR.

LIVE on what you have-live, if you can, on less;-do not borrow either for vanity or pleasure-the vanity will end in shame, and the pleasure in regret.

BETWEEN levity and cheerfulness there is a wide distinc tion; and the mind which is most open to levity, is frequently a stranger to cheerfulness. It has been remarked, that transports of intemperate mirth are often no more than flashes from the dark cloud; and that in proportion to the violence of the effulgence, is the succeeding gloom. Levity may be the forced production of folly or vice; cheerfulness is the natural offspring of wisdom and virtue only. The one is an occasional agitation; the other a permanent habit. The one degrades the character; the other is perfectly consistent with the dignity of reason, and the steady and manly spirit of religion. To aim at a constant succession of high and vivid sensations of pleasure, is an idea of happiness altogether chimerical. Calm and temperate enjoyment is the utmost that is allotted to man. Beyond this we struggle in vain to raise our state; and in fact, depress our joys, by endeavouring to heighten them. Instead of those fallacious hopes of perpetual festivity, with which the world would allure us, religion confers upon us a cheerful tranquillity. Instead of dazzling us with meteors of joy which sparkle and expire, it sheds around us a calm and steady light, more solid, more equal, and more lasting.-BLAIR,

RECOLLECTIONS OF LISBON

THE houses in the city have rather a heavy look, because, since the earthquake of 1755, the chief aim of the Portuguese in their buildings has been solidity: yet these, like every thing else in this country, have a gaudy appearance. The houses in Lisbon generally have projecting tiled roofs: the projecting part is carefully painted of a scarlet colour, and the gableend usually has some fantastic figure. Its glaring colours often form a very pleasing contrast with the white walls. Various parts of the walls of the house are moreover invariably adorned with representations of saints, in blue or white mosaic, before which a lantern is frequently suspended, that they may be seen after dark by the devout. The saint most commonly exhibited in these situations is St. Marcal, who is supposed to possess great influence over fires. He is always portrayed in episcopal habiliments, with the mitre on his head, his right hand raised, and two fingers pointing upward, while several burning houses are seen in the background. Other favourite street-saints are St. Barbara, with a tower by way of hat upon her head, and another in her hand; and St. Sebastian, bound to a tree, as a mark for young infidels, who are amusing themselves by shooting at him with arrows. Thus, too, the flight into Egypt is a very common street-painting, and souls in purgatory are to be seen at every corner.

The house of almost every wealthy person has behind it a garden most symmetrically laid out in the French style, and profusely adorned with busts and statues. If a garden is large enough to lay claim to the appellation of a quinta, then it has in general a nora to supply it with water, when there is very little or no rain at all. These noras are deep wells, with a very simple piece of machinery, by which the water is raised in earthen pots, tied to cords and emptied above into a wooden trough. The wheels are set in motion by an ox, which is harnessed to a horizontal pole, and continues going round and round the well, till the garden is sufliciently watered. The nora, when it is turned, makes a harsh, grating noise, like all the ox-cars in the Peninsula, and this is not accidental; the Portuguese, who make so much noise themselves, are exceedingly fond of it, and dislike any vehicle which is not as noisy as they. A foreigner is particularly struck with this most discordant sound; and he conceives no very high idea of the industry of the people of Lisbon, when he learns that, in all gardens of this kind, Genoese and Maltese are engaged as gardeners, because they alone understand the art of conducting the water to the productions raised in them.

From the spacious balcony, a flight of steps, decorated with marble and porcelain vases, filled with the finest flowers, usually leads down to the garden. The balconies, the walls of the staircases, and the apartments themselves, are lined to the height of three feet with small cubic glazed stones, which are painted all over, either with arabesques, or with hounds, wild boars, hunters, and fowlers with nets, or fishing scenes, in blue. Many old houses have also painted tapestries, which are now superseded in a great measure by paintings in fresco, not only for beauty, but because tapestry harbours bugs, which swarm in Lisbon to such a degree, that, when the windows are shut with any force, numbers of these insects come tumbling down out of every crevice in the wainscot.

The furniture in the palaces of the fidalgos, or nobles, is in general rich, but heavy. Many houses are overloaded with China vases and other articles from that country, especially long mirrors, the lower

part of which is painted with curious Chinese scenery. The chairs have cushions and pillows of painted leather: the frame is made of the wood of the great chests in which the sugar is brought from America: the backs are commonly adorned with some little device, a bird, a huntsman, or a flower. A few old family portraits, or some wretched daubings of saints, crucifixes, and relics in gilt frames, are the sole decorations of the walls. Chimneys there are none, and when the weather is unusually cold, the only way you can do is to place yourself over a brazeiro, an iron pan full of red-hot coals, or ashes brought from a baker's oven. This, together with the cloak, is the only defence that is found necessary against the severest cold of which the delightful climate of Portugal is susceptible.

Before we look out from the windows of the Lisbon houses, which are always provided with balconies, upon the streets and the people in them, we will first take a survey of the domestic economy of the Portuguese. Considering the immense number of the domestic servants, frequently amounting to fifty or sixty persons, who are seen basking in the sun in the court, or loitering about the stable doors, in the hall, and in all parts of the premises, it would seem that the expense of such an establishment must be enormous. But the master himself frequently does not know one fifth of these retainers. The privilege enjoyed by a fidalgo renders the meanest stall beneath his roof an inviolable sanctuary, and thus his house is so abundantly supplied with servants. All his household, down to the lowest stable-boy, are included in this privilege; so that a multitude of useless, and even dangerous persons, unite themselves of their own accord to his establishment. household, properly so called, consists of the steward, the butler, and one or two maid-servants; and these alone eat what comes from the fidalgo's table. Their fare is composed of beef and rice, or fowl and rice, some olives and biscuit, and melons. The rest of the attendants are supplied with bread, rice, or fejves (dry beans), and a small quantity of olive-oil; very few have wages in money, and, besides the persons mentioned above, only the footmen on duty, who, in a kind of livery and with a swingeing tail, stand behind the carriage and make faces at every one who gazes with surprise at their shabby appearance.

The

The numerous servants are the companions and playmates of the young fidalgo, who lies about with them in the stable, plays at skittles in the courtyard, or at bisa (a game with cards) on the steps, and, with whip in hand, and hat stuck on one side, learns of them to smoke cigars. They are the most dangerous instruments of his revenge upon any one against whom he may conceive an enmity.

One of the most mischievous of the privileges belonging to the nobility is that of the aposentadoria, that is, the right to turn any one out of his own house, and to put in another person. The same right is enjoyed to a certain degree by military officers, who can remove a citizen to other quarters, if they declare that the proximity of his house to the barracks renders it expedient to take possession of it for the public service. This is the aposentadoria activa, from which the passiva is luckily a protection; the latter may be obtained with money, and it secures to the owner the possession of his own house, and protects him from being quartered out.

It is in what relates to their equipages that the domestic economy of the Portuguese makes the most wretched figure. Not only the hackneycoaches of Lisbon, but also the carriages of the great and wealthy, are beyond description miserable.

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ANNIVERSARIES IN SEPTEMBER.

MONDAY, 30th.

ST. JEROME, or HIERONYMUS, one of the most learned fathers or the church, expired at the great age of ninety-one years. He was the son of Eusebius, and by him carefully brought up in the Christian faith. Disgusted by the vices of the half-converted Pagans, he retired to a desert in Syria, but afterwards returned to society, and became secretary to Damasus, then Pope of Rome. Being obliged to leave that city, he took up his residence in the monastery of Bethlehem, where he employed himself in writing against the heresies of the period, and in making that translation of the Scriptures, which was afterwards called the Vulgate.

1737 Fleet Market declared a free market; it was built on arches over the course of the River Fleet, which discharges itself into the Thames at Blackfriars' Bridge.

1756 Battle of Lowositz, the first of those fought in what is called the "Seven Years' War."

THE MONTH OF OCTOBER.

OCTOBER, though from the age of Numa it has been the tenth month of the year, derives its name from its original position in the Alban Calendar, being compounded of Octo, eight, and of imber, a shower. It was dedicated by the Romans to Mars, and bore for a short period the name of Faustinus and Invictus, but quickly returned to its original appellation. The ancient Saxons called it Wyn Monath, or the Wine Month, and also Winter Fyllyth, from the near approach of that season.

In old pictures this month is represented by a man sowing corn; but, in more modern ones, by a man with a basket of chestnuts, and clothed in a mantle of the colour of the decaying leaf, which, at this period begins to strew the earth, and clothe it in a sad-coloured garment. The Scorpion is the sign which the sun enters on the 23rd of this month.

ANNIVERSARIES.
TUESDAY, 1st.

1554 Queen Mary crowned at Westminster.
1801 Preliminaries of Peace signed between England and France.
WEDNESDAY, 2nd.
1187 Jerusalem taken by Saladin, having been in the possession of
the Christians for eighty-eight years: it was to recover this
loss that the second crusade was undertaken.

1691

1812

THURSDAY, 3rd.

Limerick surrendered to the troops of King William, which

terminated the war in Ireland.

Preliminaries of a treaty, between Great Britain and Austria, signed at Töplitz.

FRIDAY, 4th.

1704 Alexander Selkirk, a seaman, left by his captain on the uninhabited island of Juan Fernandez, where he resided four years in total solitude.

1822

A very severe and awful storm of thunder and lightning was
experienced over all the central and southern countries of
Europe.

SUNDAY, 6th.
EIGHTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY.

The segé, or hackney-coach, consists only of a body,
placed on two wheels, and drawn by mules; it has
certainly a leathern covering, but is quite open in
front, so that even when you draw the shabby
leathern curtain, you have but little protection from
dust and rain. If, on the other hand, you wish to
leave it open in fine weather, you are inexpressibly
tormented by large flies, which, disturbed by the
vehicle, rise in swarms, like clouds, from the heaps
of dung left in the streets, and settle upon the passen-
gers. In some streets, which are particularly filthy,
horses and carriages are literally covered with those
insects. If you have occasion for a hackney-coach,
you must absolutely bespeak it the preceding day, or
you will see nothing of it before noon. The only
difference between the hackney-coaches and the
carriages of the fidalgos, or gentry, is, that the har-
ness and curtains of the latter look rather blacker:
but let no one presume to touch either the one or
the other, or his hands will exhibit the same appear-
ance, which is produced merely by a mixture of 1783 Peace proclaimed with America.
vinegar and lamp-black, or common soot. The
mules look well and plump in the months of Febru-
ary and March, because it is only just then that
they get green food; during the rest of the year
they are fed exclusively upon straw, as the heat of
the sun scorches all the meadows by the end of
April, so that very little hay, or none at all, is to be
had. The cruel practice of preventing the animals
from lying down to sleep in the stables, to spare the
grooms the trouble of cleaning them, contributes
also a good deal to their famished look. No straw
is ever laid down for them; and at night the halter
is tied quite short, so that they are forced to remain
upon their legs. During those months when the
mules have nothing but dry fodder, the mouth
frequently swells to such a degree that the upper lip
hangs down over the lower. In this case, incisions
are made in it with knives, and often with nails, for
the purpose of bleeding. I have also remarked that
the leeches, which swarm in all the waters of this
country, adhere more frequently to the mouths of
animals in this state when they drink, than to those
of the others, and thus Nature herself provides a
remedy for the complaint.

[Abridged from Sketches of Portuguese Life.]
THERE is no word or action, but may be taken with two
hands; either with the right hand of charitable construction,
or the sinister interpretation of malice, and suspicion : and
all things do succeed as they are taken. To construe an
evil action well, is but a pleasing and profitable deceit to
myself: but to misconstrue a good thing, is a treble wrong,
to myself, the action, and the author.--BISHOP HALL.

UNSOCIABLE humours are contracted in solitude, which will, in the end, not fail of corrupting the understanding, as well as the manners, and of utterly disqualifying a man for the satisfactions and duties of life. Men must be taken as they are, and we neither make them or ourselves better, either by flying from or quarrelling with them.—

BURKE.

ONE day when Dr. Paley was walking with his friend Mr.
Carlyle by the edge of the sea, at Allonby, a delightful
bathing-place in Cumberland, nearly at the mouth of the
Solway Frith, Dr. P. was observed by his companion to be
pondering for some time in silence, as if fixed in admira-
tion of some object. "Only look," said he,
"at the good-
ness of God! how happy those shrimps are!"—Life, by
his Son.

I HAVE known, and, according to my measure, have co-
operated with great men; and I have never yet seen any
plan which has not been mended, by the observations of
those who were much inferior in understanding to the per-
sons who took the lead in the business.-BURKE.

HA! is the interjection of laughter-AH! is an interjection of sorrow. The difference betwixt them is very small, as consisting only in the transposition of what is no substantial letter, but a bare aspiration. How quickly, in the age of a minute, in the very turning of a breath, is our mirth changed into mourning!-FULLER.

LONDON:

JOHN WILLIAM PARKER, WEST STRAND. PUBLISHED IN WEEKLY NUMBERS, PRICE ONE PENNY, AND IN MONTHLY PARTE PRICE SIXPENCE, AND

Sold by all Booksellers and Newsvenders in the Kingdom,

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VOL. III.

Saturday

No 80.

SUPPLEMENT,

RATURE

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UNDER THE DIRECTION OF THE COMMITTEE OF GENERAL LITERATURE AND EDUCATION APPOINTED BY THE SOCIETY FOR PROMOTING CHRISTIAN KNOWLEDGE.

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80

VIEW OF JERUSALEM.

122

THE CITY OF JERUSALEM.

THE present article is the first of a series on the most remarkable Cities of the different quarters of the world. In the execution of this design, the Traveller and the Historian will both be consulted, and no means left unemployed to afford the reader a view both of the present and past state of those places which have been rendered interesting, as the scenes of important events, or as the nurseries of knowledge and civilization.

SITUATION AND ORIGIN OF THE CITY. JERUSALEM stands alone in its historical claims on our

veneration. To no other city in the world can be applied the designations by which it has been known from the most ancient times; in no other have scenes taken place like those described in its annals; and from no other have gone forth to the world light and intelligence like those which had their commencement in its sanctuary. For more than a thousand years it was the true, though unacknowledged, centre of civilization-the eye of the world: for near two thousand more it has been viewed, by the most enlightened nations of the earth, as the hallowed cradle of their faith, as the spot which witnessed the triumph of all that is dear to their souls, and as the allowed prophetic type of that Eternal City, in which the glorious anticipations of devout hope will have their perfect consummation. Palestine, or the land of Canaan, originally extended in length, from north to south, near two hundred miles, and from eighty to fifteen in breadth, from east to west. Its southern boundary was formed by the desert of Sin, or Beersheba, the Dead Sea, the River Arnon, and the River of Egypt, or the Sichor: to the north it was bounded by the mountainous ridge called Antilibanus, near which stood the capital of the tribe of Dan: to the east, by Arabia; and to the west, by the Mediterranean, or the Great Sea. Though singularly rocky and mountainous, it was one of the most fertile provinces of the temperate zone ;—a land, according to the authority of the sacred penman, "of brooks of water, of fountains, and depths that spring out of valleys and hills; a land of wheat, and barley, and vines, and fig-trees, and pomegranates; a land of oil-olive, and honey; a land wherein bread might be eaten without scarceness; whose stones were iron, and out of whose hills might be dug brass."-Deut. viii. 7, 8, 9. In the midst of this highly-favoured region stood the city destined to be the scene of so many remarkable events. Its origin is lost in obscurity, but it was anciently called Salem, or Peace, and was probably built by Melchizedee, the ancient type of Christ. From the strength of its position, and the richness of the surrounding valleys, it may be conjectured that it was one of the first stations of the Canaanites seized upon by the warlike tribes, the descendants of Mizraim, the second son of Ham, who had early possession of the land. It is mentioned in the Book of Joshua sometimes under the name of Jebusi, at others under that of Jerusalem; the former appellation being derived from one of its princes, the other from the affection with which it was early regarded. "Thou shalt see peace" is the interpretation of this sacred name; and the learned Dr. Hales has started the idea, that our Lord, in his pathetic lamentation, If thou hadst known, even thou at least, in this thy day, the things which belong unto thy peace," alluded to this circumstance. In the fifteenth chapter of Joshua it is said, "As for the Jebusites, the inhabitants of Jerusalem, the children of Judah could not drive them out; but the Jebusites dwell with the children of Judah at Jerusalem unto this day." It was reserved, indeed, for David to complete the conquest of the land, and to expel the remnants of those idolatrous tribes, who had, at the time when he appeared, defied, for five hundred years, the fainting courage, and imperfect faith, of the Israelites.

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During the seven years and a half he reigned over the single tribe of Judah, his chief station was at Hebron; but, immediately on being acknowledged king by the nation at large, he put himself at the head of his army, and proceeded to the attack of Jerusalem. The Philistines appear to have regarded the fortress as sufficiently strong to resist the approaches of this formidable array; but it speedily yielded to the united valour and skill with which the monarch led on his forces, and the people of the surrounding territory saw the banner of Israel waving triumphantly on the summit of Mount Zion. In the interval of tranquillity which David enjoyed after this event, he rebuilt the city, surrounded it with fortifications, extending Inwards from the low grounds, called Millo, to the summit of the mountain, on which he erected a citadel, destined

alike to be the great fortress of the nation and the sumptuous residence of its kings. The rich work of the Tabernacle, and the splendour which characterized many of their ceremonies, had long tended to inspire the Israelites with a taste for the elegant arts. David's palace, we accordingly find, was a palace of cedar. In raising this structure, the timber of Tyre, and the superior skill of its artificers were employed, to secure its beauty and stability. When completed, the grace and majesty of the pile reminded the he should be more splendidly lodged than the ark and visible monarch that, in taking up his abode in such a building, emblem of Jehovah itself. With this idea in his mind, he resolved upon erecting a building for the service of God, which should be as worthy of its destination as the ability and piety of man could make it.

SOLOMON'S TEMPLE.

DAVID was not permitted to fulfil this design himself, but in the peaceful reign of his son, Solomon, that vast and magnificent temple was reared, which, for so many ages, formed the glory of Israel, and the wonder of the whole earth. The description which Josephus has given of its erection is precise and graphic, and is valuable as an accompaniment to the account of Scripture. "The king," says the historian, "laid the foundations very deep in the ground, and the materials were strong stones, and such as would resist the force of time; these were to unite themselves with the earth, and become a basis and sure foundation for that superstructure which they would have to support.

The entire body of the building, even up to the roof, was composed of white stone, its height being sixty cubits, its length the same, and its breadth twenty cubits. There was another building erected over it, of the same measurement, so that the entire altitude of the temple was a hundred and twenty cubits. Its front was to the east. As to the porch, they built it before the temple; its length was twenty cubits, and it was so ordered that it might agree with the breadth of the nouse; it had twelve cubits in width, and was raised to the height of a hundred and twenty cubits. There were also built round about the temple thirty small rooms, which might include the whole structure, by their closeness one to another, and by their number and outward position round it. Passages were made through them, that one might be entered from the other, and each was in dimension five cubits square, and twenty cubits high. Above these were other rooms, and others above them, equal both in their measure and number, so that these reached to a height equal to the lower part of the house for the upper part had no buildings about it.

The roof that covered the edifice was of cedar, and those rooms which were not immediately connected with the rest, had a roof of their own; that which covered the main building was common to all its parts, and was built with very long beams, which passed through each other, and through the whole building, that so the middle walls being strengthened by the same masses of timber, might thereby be made firmer. That part of the roof which lay beneath the beams was made of the same materials, and presented a smooth surface, properly ornamented, and studded with plates of sculptured gold, so that the whole temple shone, and dazzled the eyes of such as entered, by the splendour of the gold which glittered around them on every side. The whole of the building, moreover, was made, with great skill, of polished stones, and those laid together so very harmoniously and smoothly, that there appeared to the spectators no sign of any hammer or other instrument of architecture, but it was as if, without any use of them, the entire materials had united themselves together, compacted by nature rather than by the force of tools. The king also had a fine contrivance for an ascent to the upper room over the temple, and that was by steps in the thickness of the wall, for it had no large door on the east end, as the lower house had, but the entrances were by the sides, through very small doors. He also overlaid the temple, both within and without, with boards of cedar, that were kept close together by thick chains, an invention which formed a support, and gave strength to the building. Now, when he had divided the building into two parts, he made the inner house, of twenty cubits every way, to be the most secret chamber, but the sanctuary was forty cubits square; and

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