where our Saviour was crucified.' Of what nature was that place of crucifixion? It is very worthy of observation, that every one of the Evangelists, (and among these, he that saw it, and bare record,) affirm, that it was the place of a scull;' that is to say, a public cemetery, 'called in the Hebrew, Golgotha;' without the city, and very near to one of its gates. St. Luke calls it Calvary, which has the same signification. The church, supposed to mark the site of the holy sepulchre, exhibits no where the slightest evidence which might entitle it to either of these appellations. Can there be therefore aught of impiety or of temerity in venturing to surmise, that upon the opposite summit, now called Mount Sion, with out the walls, the crucifixion of the Messiah was actually accomplished? Perhaps the evidence afforded by existing documents may further il lustrate this most interesting subject. These will now be enumerated. "Upon all the sepulchres at the base of this mount, which, as the place of a scull,' we have the authority of the gospel for calling either Calvary or Golgotha, whether the place of crucifixion or not, there are inscriptions, in Hebrew and in Greek. The Hebrew inscriptions are the most effaced: of these it is difficult to make any tolerable copy. Besides the injuries they have sustained by time, they have been covered by some carbonaceous substance, either bituminous or fumid, which rendered the task of transcribing them yet more arduous. The Greek inscriptions are brief and legible, consisting of immense letters deeply carved in the face of the rock, either over the door, or by the side, of the sepulchres. Upon the first we observed these characters: haps the removal of this may, at some future period, lead to other discoveries. It was evident that we had not attained the remotest part of these caverns. There were others with similar Greek inscriptions, and one which particularly attracted our notice, from its extraordinary coincidence with all the circumstances attaching to the history of our Saviour's tomb. The large stone that once closed its mouth had been, perhaps for ages, rolled away. Stooping down to look into it, we observed, within, a fair sepulchre, containing a repository, upon one side only, for a single body; whereas, in most of the others, there were two, and in many of them more than two. It is placed exactly opposite to that which is now called Mount Sion. As we viewed this sepulchre, and read upon the spot the description given of Mary Magdalene and the disciples coming in the morning, it was impossible to divest our mind of the probability that here might have been the identical tomb of Jesus Christ; and that up the steep which led to it, after descending from the gate of the city, the disciples strove together, when John did outrun Peter, and came first to the sepulchre.' They are individually described as stooping down to look into it; they express their doubts as to the possibility of removing so huge a stone, that when once fixed and sealed, it might have baffled every human effort. But upon this, as upon the others already mentioned, instead of a Hebrew or a Phoenician inscription, there were the same Greek characters, destitute only of the Greek cross prefixed in the former instances. The inscription stood thus, THCARIAC CIWN the letters being very large, and deeply carved in the rugged surface of the rock. "The Hebrew inscriptions, instead of being over the entrances, were by the side of the doors. Having but little knowledge of the characters with which they were written, all that could be attempted was, to make as faithful a representation as possible of every incision upon the stone, without attempting to supply any thing by conjecture; and even admitting, in certain instances, doubtful traces, which were perhaps casualties caused by injuries the stone had sustained, having no reference to the legend. "The words of the inscription are supposed to be Arabic, expressed in Hebrew and Phoenician charac ters. The arrow-headed character occurs here, as in the inscriptions at Telmessus. "All the face of this mountain, along the dingle supposed to be the Vale of Gehinnon by Sandys, is marked by similar excavations. Some of these, as may be seen by reference to a former note, did not escape his searching eye; although he neglected to observe their inscriptions, probably from keeping the beaten track of pilgrims going from Mount Sion to the Mount of Olives, and neglecting to cross the valley in order to examine them more nearly. The top of the mountain is covered by ruined walls and the remains of sumptuous edifices: these he also noticed; but he does not even hint at their origin. Here again we are at a loss for intelligence; and future travellers will be aware of the immense field of inquiry which so many undescribed remains belonging to Jerusalem of fer to their observation. If the foundations and ruins as of a citadel may be traced all over this eminence, the probability is, that this was the real Mount Sion; that the Gehinnon of Sandys, and of many other writers, was in fact the Valley of Millo, called Tyropoon by Josephus, which separated Sion from Mount Moriah, and extended as far as the Fountain Siloa, where it joined the Valley of Jehosaphat. The sepulchres will then appear to have been situated beneath the walls of the citadel, as was the case in many antient cities. Such was the situation of the Grecian sepulchres in the Crimea, belonging to the ancient city of Chersonesus, in the Minor Peninsula of the Heracleotæ. The inscriptions already noticed seem to favour this position; and if hereafter it should ever be confirmed, the remarkable things belonging to Mount Sion,' of which Pococke says there are no remains in the hill now bearing that appellation, will in fact be found here. The Garden of the Kings, near the Pool of Siloam, where Manasseh and Amon, kings of Judah, were buried;' the cemetery of the kings of Judah; the traces and remains of Herod's palaces, called after the names of Cæsar and Agrippa; together with the other places mentioned by Nehemiah.' All along the side of this mountain, and in the rocks above the Valley of Jehosaphat, upon the eastern side of Jerusalem, as far as the sepulchres of Zechariah and Absalom, and above these, almost to the top of the Mount of Olives, the Jews resident in the city bury their dead, adhering still to the cemetery of their ances tors: but having long lost the art of constructing the immense sepulchres now described, they content themselves in placing Hebrew inscriptions upon small upright slabs of marble, or of common limestone, raised after the manner at present generally in use throughout the East." ON FUNERAL ORATIONS. [FROM MR. BUTLER'S LIFE AND WRITINGS OF BOSSUET.} FUN UNERAL orations, of the description of those of which we are now speaking, are little known in England, and are not, perhaps, a branch of oratory, the want of which we should greatly lament. It is evident that nothing should be heard from the pulpit, but the language of the gospel; and nothing praised or blamed from it by any other standard. "But, when the orator has to pronounce the eulogy of a person, distinguished only by worldly greatness, it must be difficult for him to avoid speaking the language of the world. If, says Massillon, in his celebrated address to Lewis the fourteenth, in the exordium of his ser mon on the feast of All-Saints—' if the world addressed your Majesty from this place, the world would not not say, Blessed are they who mourn. The world would say, Blessed is the prince who has never fought, but to conquer; who has filled the universe with his name; who, through the whole course of a long and flourishing reign, enjoys in splendor all that men admire ;extent of conquest, the esteem of his enemies, the love of his people, the wisdom of his laws. But, Sir, the language of the gospel is not the language of the world.' Here Massillon contrasts the two languages: which of them is the general language of funeral oration? Does it not almost always sound like that, which Massillon puts in the mouth of the world? quence itself the effect of this promiscuous praise will be baneful. When the demand for it becomes frequent, the necessity of inventing a subject of praise, when it is wholly wanting, and of amplifying it, where it is merely of ordinary size, must frequently occur. The consequence will be, that the natural and easy will often be excluded from such compositions, and they will be filled with that inflation of sentiment and expression, which a continued state of forced exertion makes unavoidable. That this is not exaggeration, is evident from the general style of funeral orations-it may be truly said, that, with some brilliant exceptions, they the least pleasing compositions to be found in French literature. "Among these exceptions, the funeral orations of Bossuet hold confessedly the first rank. The general style of them is worthy of him: they abound with beautiful, affecting, and sublime passages; with short, but interesting narratives and descriptions; and with characters, sketched by a master's hand. "But this is not the only objec-are tion to Funeral Orations. The life of him, who is to be celebrated, though his achievements raise him to the height of human glory, is often wholly sterile of those actions which the counsels, or even the precepts of the gospel inspire. Perhaps even, his general remissness in religious duty is known to his hearers. On such a life, what is to be said by him, who should only speak the language of the gospel? Yet, when once funeral orations become frequent, lives, such as these, will regularly claim and receive the usual tribute of funeral eulogy. "In another view, the frequency of funeral orations must be mischievous. It is obvious, that they are a tribute of distinction, which should be paid to none, but the most exalted characters. Exalted rank will soon be thought a title to them and the claim will descend. Even extraordinary wealth will sometimes put in and be allowed its claim. Thus praise will become 100 general to confer honour; and one of the strongest incitements to wirtue will be lost. Even on elo "One of the finest of them, is the funeral oration on the death of Henrietta-Ann, the daughter of our Charles the First, and wife of the Duke of Orleans. On the 29th of June, 1670, after drinking a glass of cold water, in her apartment of St. Cloud, she was seized with a shivering, succeeded by a burning heat, which threw her into the most excruciating torments. She cried out that she was poisoned: the physicians were sent for; when they saw her, they were struck with horror at her livid appearance, pronounced her beyond medical aid, and advised her to receive, without delay, the last sacraments of the church. The princess heard them pronounce pronounce her fate with firmness: and recollecting, the manner, in which Bossuet had attended her mother, the Queen Dowager of Eg land, she desired that not an instant should be lost in sending for him. -Three couriers were successively dispatched to him; and he arrived between eleven and twelve at night, at St. Cloud. "In the interval, she suffered the most dreadful pains, and, her immediate dissolution being appre hended, she made a general confession of her sins to the Abbé Feuillet, a person generally esteemed, but of a harsh character. When her confession was finished, her attendants were called in: the whole scene was afflicting and horrible. mulous voice, often interrupted by his own feelings, he invited her to join him, as far as her sufferings allowed, in the reflections, prayers, and acts of contrition, faith, hope, and charity, which he should address to God for her, and in her name. He was exceedingly moved, and every person present sympa thized in the scene. Nothing could exceed the tender and affecting sentiments of devotion and piety which Bossuet suggested to her; he finally subdued by them, in a great measure, her sense of the cruel sufferings which she endured. The princess heard him with mild and composed constancy; if he stopt for a moment, she gently entreated him to continue, assuring him, that his words were of inestimable value to her. He then read over to her the recommendation of the soul in the liturgy; explained it to her; made her gently repeat with him its soothing prayers; softly instilled into her the sentiments which ty are intended to convey; filled her soul with faith, with compunction, with calm, with resignation, and above all, with divine love for him into whose hands she was so soon to yield her soul. She herself, at last, felt a consciousness of her serene triumph over pain,- O my God!' she exclaimed, why did I not always adhere to thee !"-She recollected that the crucifix, which Bos suet had in his hands, was the same which he had given to her mother, the queen dowager of England, to hold in her agony. She took it from him, and kept it in her hands till "The account which her confessor giyes of his own conduct, makes us, perhaps unreasonably, blame his merciless austerity. Her lamentable shrieks be treated as acts of rebellion against the divine will, and told her, that her sins were not punished as they deserved. In the midst of her convulsions, she received his reproofs with mildness, but often inquired of Madame de la Fayette, who was at her bed side, it Bossuet were not yet come. Before he came, she received extreme unction from the Abbé Feuillet. Having exclaimed in an agony of pain, Will these torments never end!'-' Don't forget yourself in this manner,' said the merciless Abbé, you ought to be better disposed for suffering; but I must tell you, that your torments will soon end.' "At length, Bossuet arrived :—she breathed her last. As soon as the princess saw him, she made him promise not to quit her, before she breathed her last. -He knelt down, dissolved in tears, leaning on her bed, and holding a crucifix in his hand. With a tre "An hour before she died, she turned to Madame de la Fayette, and, in the English language, which Bossuet did not understand, desired her to observe, that, full of gratitude for the spiritual assistance, |