With feelings sinking lower and lower, he came directly to the deep reservoir now known as the Pool of Bethesda, in which the water reflected the over-pending sky.

Looking up, he beheld the northern wall of the Tower of Antonia, a black frowning heap reared into the dim steel-gray sky.

He halted as if challenged by a threatening sentinel.
The Tower stood up so high, and seemed so vast, resting apparently upon foundations so sure, that he was constrained to acknowledge its strength.

If his mother were there in living burial, what could he do for her?
By the strong hand, nothing.

An army might beat the stony face with ballista and ram, and be laughed at.