Was I Right? by O.F. Walton

THERE are some moments in our lives which it is impossible for us to describe. We never forget them, and the impression which they leave behind never fades from our memories; but still when we try to speak of them to others, even to those whom we love best, words fail us, and seem too weak to express what we mean.

I will not, therefore, attempt to describe what was the rush of feeling which passed through my heart when, for the first time, I came in sight of Jerusalem. Others who have had a like privilege will understand what I felt, as Mr. Stanley made us pull up our horses on the top of a hill, about half a mile from the city gate, and said to us, "Well, what do you think of Jerusalem?"