Here is a good story of Egyptian law-courts:
"A certain French gentleman entrusted an Englishman with £90 to buy a horse for him. The Englishman, accordingly, gave the money to a native, whom he considered thoroughly trustworthy, with orders to go into Arabia and there purchase the animal. The Arab, however, spent most of the money in his own devices, and returned to Cairo, after a few months, with a wretched horse, such as would appear at a Spanish bull-fight. The Englishman, immensely disgusted, returned the £90, to his French friend, simply saying that he had failed in executing his commission; but he determined to try and recover it from the Arab. So he went and told the whole matter to the governor of Cairo, who appointed his deputy as judge. While the case was being tried, dinner-time came; and the judge, the prosecutor, and the prisoner, all sat down together, and dined in a friendly way. No embarrassment was caused thereby; but after dinner, the judge, turning to the prisoner, quietly said: 'Can you pay the Frank gentleman the money you owe him?' On receiving a simple reply in the negative, the judge added, 'Then you had better go off at once to prison, and delay this gentleman no longer.' The Arab went without a word, and remained in this miserable place (for the prisons are infamous) for two months, after which his brother took his place for him. Finally the money was paid by instalments."
With the following beautiful description of a "Good-Friday service at Jerusalem," we commend Lady Herbert's book to the favor of our readers:
"It is a beautiful and solemn service, in which even Protestants are seen to join with unwonted fervor; and on this special day it was crowded to excess. When it was over, the two friends returned to the altar of St. Mary Magdalen, the words and tones of the hymn still lingering in their hearts:
'Jesu! dulce refugium,
Spes una te quaerentium.
Per Magdalenae meritum
Peccati solve debitum.'
To those who are sorrowful and desponding at the sense of their own unworthiness and continual shortcomings, there is a peculiar attraction and help in the thoughts of this saint, apart from all the rest. The perfections of the Blessed Virgin dazzle us by their very brightness, and make us, as it were, despair of following her example. But in the Magdalen we have the picture of one who, like us, was tempted and sinned and fell, and yet, by the mercy of God and the force of the mighty love he put into her heart, was forgiven and accepted for the sake of that very love he had infused.
"Presently the English stranger rose, and, approaching one of the Franciscan monks, begged for the benediction of her crucifix and other sacred objects, according to the short form in use at the shrine of the Holy Sepulchre; a privilege kindly and courteously granted to her. And now the shades of evening are darkening the aisles of the sacred building, and the pilgrims are gathered in a close and serried mass in the Chapel of Calvary, waiting for the ceremony which is to close the solemn offices of that awful day. By the kindness of the duke, who had been their companion in the Via Crucis, the two ladies were saved from the crowd, and conducted by a private staircase from the Greek chapel to the right of the altar of Calvary. The whole is soon wrapped in profound darkness, save where the light is thrown on a crucifix the size of life, erected close to the fatal spot. You might have fancied yourself alone but for the low murmur and swaying to and fro of the dense crowd kneeling on the floor of the chapel. Presently a Franciscan monk stepped forward, and, leaving his brethren prostrate at the foot of the altar, mounted on a kind of estrade at the back, and proceeded to detach the figure of our Blessed Lord from the cross. As each nail was painfully and slowly drawn out, he held it up, exclaiming, 'Ecce, dulces clavos!' exposing it at the same time to the view of the multitude, who, breathless and expectant, seemed riveted to the spot, with their upturned faces fixed on the symbol represented to them. The supernatural and majestic stillness and silence of that great mass of human beings was one of the most striking features of the whole scene. Presently a ladder was brought, and the sacred figure lifted down, as in Rubens's famous picture of the 'Deposition,' into the arms of the monks at the foot of the cross. As the last nail was detached, and the head fell forward as of a dead body, a low deep sob burst from the very souls of the kneeling crowd. Tenderly and reverently the Franciscan fathers wrapped it in fine linen, and placed it in the arms of the patriarch, who, kneeling, received it, and carried it down to the Holy Sepulchre, the procession chanting the antiphon, 'Acceperunt Joseph et Nicodemus corpus Jesu; et ligaverunt illud linteis cum aromatibus, sicut mos est Judaeis sepelire.' The crowd followed eagerly, yet reverently, the body to its last resting-place. It is a representation which might certainly be painful if not conducted throughout with exceeding care. But done as it is at Jerusalem, it can but deepen in the minds of all beholders the feelings of intense reverence, adoration, and awe with which they draw near to the scene of Christ's sufferings, and enable them more perfectly to realize the mystery of that terrible Passion which he bore for our sakes in his own body on the tree.
"And with this touching ceremony the day is over; the crowd of pilgrims disperses, to meet on the morrow in the same spot for the more consoling offices of Easter-eve.
"But in many a heart the memory of this day will never be effaced; and will, it is humbly hoped, bear its life-long fruit in increased devotion to the sacred humanity of their Lord, and in greater detestation of those sins which could only be cancelled by so tremendous an atonement."