Relics are very good property.
Travelers are expected to pay for seeing them, and they do it cheerfully.
We like the idea.

One's conscience can never be the worse for the knowledge that he has paid his way like a man.

Our pilgrims would have liked very well to get out their lampblack and stencil-plates and paint their names on that rock, together with the names of the villages they hail from in America, but the priests permit nothing of that kind.
To speak the strict truth, however, our party seldom offend in that way, though we have men in the ship who never lose an opportunity to do it.
Our pilgrims' chief sin is their lust for "specimens." I suppose that by this time they know the dimensions of that rock to an inch, and its weight to a ton; and I do not hesitate to charge that they will go back there to-night and try to carry it off.
This "Fountain of the Virgin" is the one which tradition says Mary used to get water from, twenty times a day, when she was a girl, and bear it away in a jar upon her head.

The water streams through faucets in the face of a wall of ancient masonry which stands removed from the houses of the village.

The young girls of Nazareth still collect about it by the dozen and keep up a riotous laughter and sky-larking.