Just behind Moriah the Tyrope'an Valley was distinctly marked by a deeply-shaded belt, running from north to south through the city. Beyond it rose Zion, higher and longer than Moriah; in front, a confused mass of terraced roofs, tier above tier; farther back were seen the white buildings of the Armenian Convent, like an immense factory; more to the right the new English Church; and in the back-ground, crowning the hill, the massive square keep of the Castle of David.

The southern section of Zion is now outside the city wall; and there a high minaret and cupola mark the Tomb of David. From it the hill sinks into the Valley of Hin'nom in steep terraced slopes, covered with vineyards, olives, and corn-fields. As I looked, a moving object in one of the fields riveted my attention. "Haste! give me the glass," I said. I turned it towards the spot. Yes, I was right; —a plough and yoke of oxen were there at work. Jeremiah's prophecy was being fulfilled before my eyes: "Zion shall be ploughed like a field."

Along the farther side of Zion runs the deep glen of Hinnom, which, turning eastward, sweeps round the southern end of the hill and joins the Kidron at En-rogel. These two ravines form the great physical boundaries and barriers of Jerusalem; they completely cut it off from the surrounding tableland; and they isolate the hills on which it stands, and those other hills, too, or hill-tops, which, as the Psalmist tells us, "are round about Jerusalem." These natural barriers also serve to confine the city within regular and definite limits—to prevent it from sending forth straggling suburbs and offshoots, as most other cities do; hence it was said, "Jerusalem is builded as a city that is compact together."