348 I GO A-FISHING. 



strength enough to help bury a ghost. But he showed 

 us the church, and under its pavement the grotto, into 

 which we descended. It was possibly an early chapel — 

 one of those subterranean places of worship used by the 

 Christians in years that are now forgotten, and over which 

 they afterward built their church. But there is no ev- 

 idence even of this, nor is there book or record of past 

 years by which to determine even the period when the- 

 structure above the ground was built. 



" Tradition says that it is as old as the days of the Em- 

 peror Diocletian, and Wilkinson describes an inscription 

 of that date somewhere in the community which is in- 

 closed within these walls ; but we could not find it. Nor 

 could we find the tomb of Ledyard, nor trace of it. The 

 miserable old keeper of the church showed me a pile of 

 manuscript books, but they were only Coptic forms of 

 worship. He held out a plate for backsheesh as we came 

 out of the door, which we deposited, whereupon he dropped 

 the plate and held out his hand for some on private ac- 

 count, assuring us that the former donation was purely for 

 the public. We begged him to take his share out of the 

 public account, and putting our sticks across the backs 

 of twenty beggars who denied us exit, escaped into the 

 air, having accumulated such quantities of fleas as tor- 

 mented us till night-time. The garden of the Greek con- 

 vent remained to be seen, for here in former years the 

 Greeks were accustomed to sell graves to English Chris- 

 tians. But it was also their custom to sell the same 

 graves over and over again, so that no certainty of re- 

 pose was guaranteed by the purchase. Alas for Led- 

 yard ! He was not rich, and I doubt much if any one 

 was with him when he died who would have paid a 

 price for a burial-place for him when all the desert 



