The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, December 14, 1902, Page 3

THE SUNDAY CALL. N ~ with head thrown back and distend.ed nostrils, met their flerde gaze un h ingly. The mob now formed a Ting about the doomed man, which included myself and those who were holding nim. An- other moment and we two <tood alone within the center of that horrid vircle. “Chis is murder!” I shouted, springing forward and throwing one arm over the doomed man's shoulder, thinking thus to save him from the impending assault. “And it will be a couble one if thou stand’st not back!” shricked Andrew the tailor, who seemed to be regarded as the leader of the insulted law’s avengers. While speaking he moved the heavy stone backward and forward above his head, as if preparing to hurl it upon his victim. I do not lack for courage, yet my heart sank within me as I surveyed the semi- circle of scowling faces within the range of my vision. Fury flashed from every eve, and not a spark of humanity, not a beam of mercy could I detect. I had not an enemy among them, and scarce one in all the mob but was under obligations #o Simon, my father, yet I realized that my life was anything but safe if I per- sisted in thwarting their dark purpose. Is there & greater devil In the world than perverted, bigoted religion? Determined to give the unfortunate wretch beside me e chance for his life, I drew from my girdle the small sheathed knife with which T fashioned and repaired my pens, resolved on cutting the leathern - thongs that bound his wrists. “Thou shalt not kill!" Seldom before had the words of the Decalogue such pointed meaning in Ju- dea; never, I am sure, were they uttered in more commanding tones—tones that might well have startled our first parents in the cool of that eventful day in the garden, cast Moses upon his face and caused the hair of the flesh of Job to stand up. In an instant the circle of hate and vengeance was broken, and the in- tended victim might have passed through his enemies unnoticed, so Intently was every eye fixed upon the man who had lso opportunely and foreibly quoted the aw. The person of the speaker was scarce less commanding than his voice. He was tall, broad shouidered and strong limbed. I had never seen a marble statue, for we Jews make not graven image surely sculptor would glory in model. His high, wrinkled forehe: ing indignation, dilated nostri t mouth, coupled with his m. bearing, made him the personification of outraged law and justice. He possessed the decision and firmness of middle life, from which the fire and enthusiasm of youth had not yet departed. He wore the typical dress of a Jew, while his long aff, scrip, girdle—which held a purse and_a book of the law—and well worn sandals proclaimed him a traveler or pil- grim. One by one the stones slipped from nerveless hands and clattered upon tre pavement, that held by Andrew the tailor being the last to fall, while the late howl ing mob, white now from fear rather an rage, huddled around the for: Rabbi Samuel. Recovering the which in my excitement I had d to the ground, I passed its blade between tne hands of the prisoner and shook off the severed thongs. Smiling his thanks, he folded his arms across his broad breast and looked again intently upon the man whd had saved his life. An awful had fallen upon the assemblage was broken at length by the voice, deep, but still indignant, of the majestic personage before them. “T0. ye would usurp the office of Judge, Sanhedrim, yvea, Jehovah himself? Think ye jesting at the law a greater offense than the taking of blood? To your syna- gogue! Bewall there your sins and ren- der thanks to God that ye are not this y branded with the brand of Cain; for I say unto you that this man {s your brother.” Greater fear did not descend upon Bel- shazzar, the king, and his thousand lords than seized the rioters of Kerioth that day. Women bearing their children, oid n tottering on staves, Strong men run- hurried from the spot. Rabbi Samuel was the last to depart. Once he faced his accuser and seemed about to speak, but his courage failed him and he hastened after the fiying people. In a moment the great rabbi—for he could be nothing else—the late captive and myself were left alone in the highway, for none of my companiors at the wine press had appeared. The face of the elder man lighted as he watched the fleeing rabble, and it was with a faint but most pleas. ing smile that he turned and addressed the stranger beside me. “So, my young friend, thy haste, both of foot and tongue, brought thee into trouble? Thou had'st done better to abide with me and pursue thy journey in a more seemly manner. How arose the dif- ficulty 2" “After this manner, sir,” replied the young man. “When I parted from the to-day about the third hour, overanxiou: as 1 to'd thee, to arrive at Kerloth, mude the greatest speed I could and reached the town at the seventh hour. I found the place well nigh deserted, and learned thét the young men and maidens celebrated the opening of the grape har- vest in the Wneyard of Simon. and that many of the people had gone forth to join them there. Upon this spot 1 over- took them. “As I told thee before, I have traveled much in far countries, and have, I =up- pose, acquired something of the bearing of the Greeks. My manner offend me of the company, and one, the rabbi, re- buked me sterniy for aping—tiose were his words—the customs of the unciean Gentiles. This I answered, somewhat ho'- 1y, for such {s my wont when wroth, and altercation ensued. The rabbi de- nounced me as a renegade to my nation and religion. In this others joined, par- ticularly a little man whose crooked legs and the needle he wore in his turban pro- claimed him a taflor. He it was whom Dut pow you saw most eager to take my 5 “'A greater rogue does not abide in Ke- rioth,” 1 interrupted. “Saving the rabbi,” added the young man, quickly. “I have not journeyed for five 'years. not visited Tiberias, Damas- cus, Antioch, Alexandria, Rome and even Gaul and Britain, without learning many lhlngl‘ among them a few weak points in the Scripture. Well knowing how to provoke & rabbi, I recounted some of these, and that to such good effect that I soon found myself accused of blas- phemy, though I had spoken no single word that was not strictly true. To en- trap me further, the Tabbi asked me cun- ning questions, which I made bold to an- swer as I thought pnr “Thou hast spoken hastily, doubtlessly foolishly”” commented the traveler, ‘‘but thou had'st sore provocation. Thou wilt do well to avold controversies in the fu- ture. I would not have thought such fury as I have witnessed possible, for, though a Jew, nmever until now nave I set foot within the land of my fathers. “My name,” he continued, addressing me now, “is Philo, and some call me the Phllolopher. I abide in Alexandria, where was born, and am on a piigrimage to Je- rusalem, the Holy City. Surely evil cays have fallen upon Israel when a learned rabbl thirsts for the blood of one who differs with him touching the Scriptures. When the Messiab cometh, and 1 belleve his day to be at hand, he will be rejected, ‘haps stoned, if he departs in his teach. ngs one tittle from the law, as under- stood by the doctors. “] need not journey onweard to Jerusa- lem; I can turn back and still understand that the Jews worship the law, its fasts, feasts and ceremonies, rather than the Lord God who made both the law and the rophets. He alone is good; better than nowledge, wer and virtue, and to be like him is the highest aspiration of man. He is the God. not alone of Israel, but of all mankind. Much of the Scripture ~had ever seen. is allegorical, but the ten commandments contain the essential spirit of the law. “Wilt thou not come to the house of Simon, my father?” said 1. ‘‘He will be most glad to entertain thee.” “I thank thee, but I must go onward. I slecp to-night at Hebron, the ancient and holy city of David. I marked well how thou risked thy life to save that of a stranger. The time cometh when such men will be soreiy needed in the land, and then I expect to see thee doing thy duty. And thou, feliow traveler, see to it that philosophy draw thee not away from the law_of God who made it. I am no prophet, and need not the gifts of one to know that you two ~young men are to become fast friends, perhaps lixe unto David and Jonathan. Farewell.” 1 “There goes the greatest of mortals, announced my companion solemnly, as his recent protector courteously waved his hand and disappeared at a turn in the road. “The literature of Greece and Kome is as famiilar to Philo as are his fingers. The circle of the arts and sciences are to him as an open book, though -this be modestly disciaims. Only yesterday—I fell in company with him three days ago —only yesterday he said to me: ‘Every one of the different free sciences and arts atty ed me like so many beautiful slav vet I aimed higher, to embrace the tress of them all—philosophy.’ “a.uough deeply imbued with Greek thought and manners he makes the di- vinity- of lue Jewish law theé basis and ultiniate test of all true philosophy. Scarce forty years of age, his name is al- ready known to every gentile scholar in the world, and his books, I am told, are beginning to be studied at Jerusalem. More than any other, he hath reconciled and Greek thought, and if our religious system, or anything founded upon_it, is_ever to invade the Gentile world, 1t will be accomplished by follow- ing the exampie of the great philosopher, the ripe schoiar, the incomparable man who pauses in his humble journey Lo- ward the Holy City to assert the ma- jesty of the law, and perform an act of jusidice and merey.” Genius 1s the universal key that throws back tie wards and unlocks the hearts of youin. instinctively 1 bowea my Lead 10 suent reverence, adoration ahwuost, of the broad-minded, human-neartea person- age whuse lfe had barely touched mine, yeu was desuned, 1 lelt sure, to exert & poweriui itiuence upon it. 111 “Judas, son of Simon, I owe thee my life.” - These words from my companion arcused me trom the deep reverie into wiicn the phuosopher of Alexander had s piunged me; recaued me irom faacy to reauty. ““ihou knowest me?” hment. “As a brother, and, except for the blood ana dirt which 1 weil know obscures my teatures, thou wouldst never have re- garaed me as a stranger. I am Josepi, calied Manasseh, the son of Michael.” ““Ine friena of my boyhood; alive and come again to Kerioth?” and, without hecding_dust or biood 1 threw my arms ut nim and kissed him. Jugas, thou hast tmis day stood.my friend, tninking me a stranger; may I be accursed if I forget it! Saving only my father, to no mau living would 1 as soun be hoiden for my life.”” ““Ihou neéu st Lot except him, Joseph,” 1 replied, saaty. “Then he is dead? The father whom I lovea cannot forgive my long neglect and bestow his blessing.” “He died svon atier thy departure from Kecioth.” d my sister Miriam; she lives; she 1 cried, in aston- is here? Tears stood in the wanderer’s eyes, and he c.utcned my arm ughtly as he asied herioth soon after thy father's death; went northward into Galilee, to a kinsman. “My uncle Simeon, the brother of my mother and our sole remaining relative, I huve sinned more grievousiy than I thought. 1 must journey to Galilee and pay them a visit before 1 depart again for Kome.” “'iiast thou not yet seen enough of the wor.d and its wonders?” / *“Lhat have 1 not. ‘1ne Jews are a great peopie, Judas, but they know littie in comiparison with the Greeks and Romans. In anoiher five years can surpass our wisest doctors in knowledge. “We will tak of this laier. I have too long forgotten the foremost rules of hos- pitmity. ‘Thou are weary, hungry, torn anu bieeding, Come wiwn me.” “But dare | enter the town? Will it not call down upon thee uud thy house the fury of the mob?” \ere is no longer a mob, Joseph. The cutting words and authoritative manner of Phio have touched the hearts of sume anc cowed the remainder. Thou wilt be ireated with the utmost respect. Come.” The late disturbers of the peace had taken the A.exandrian's advice aud re- paired to the synagogue, or else shut emselves up within the | ivacy of their own homes, ior, on our way through the principa: streer, at the head of which stoud tne Gouse of my father, we en- countered not one of them. Our house was the iargest in Kerioth, and was weil, even sumptucusiy furnished. 1 conducted fricid direcuy to my own apartments, where, after baihing and, pariaking of much necded refreshment, I saw him well attired in some of my own garments. As Dhe caretully and tefuily dressed himseif the spirits of Manasseh steadily rose, and, so contagious is mirth and goou-fenowship, su elastic the characcer of youth, we were soon iaughing and ji ng as merrily as if never a cloud had risen aihwart the horizon of our lives. Michael had been a man of weaith and imporiance in Kerioth and, though a tew years older than myseif, his son and 1 ad ever been the closest friends. 1 feel flattered that none of tue people recognized me to-day. It shows wanat travel and culture wiil do for an uncoutn Jewish boy.” As_he spoke Joseph took up a large hand-mirror of poiished silver and ad- miringly surveyed his own features, of which he Lad good reason to be proud, since they were handsome beyond any I His survey completed,.he produced & square of the finest linen, white &s milk, and beautifully embroid- ered, with which he carefully smoothed his black eyebrows. This so excited my curiosity that I overlooked his evident vanity. I had never before seen such an article, for we Jews know not the uses of handkerchiefs. “But tell me something of Kerioth,” sald my companion, as he began combing his Juguriant beard, carefully noting the ef- fect in the mirror. “Who have died, who have been married, who are betrothed? But nay, tell me first of thyseif; wnat care 1 for the others? When I left thou wert a student of the law, though thy beard had scarce begun to grow. Who is not pieased at tbe Interest mani- fested by his friend? I needed no urging, but recounted all that-had befallen m since our last perting. This occupied but = short time, for my life had been most uneventful. I dwelt principally upon my weakening_ faith in the law as-then ob- served and enforced, and announced my fixed determination not to follow Rabbi Eamuel to Jerusalem, after his outrageous conduct on that day. I narrated at some Jength the occurrences at the wine-press, and _spoke garllculsrly of Ruth, the davghter of Peleg, and her flippant but none the less pleasing reign as queen of the vintage. 1 even mentioned the evi- dent jealousy of my brother Enos, for 1 was resolved that there should be no secrets between us. “I remember this Ruth a child,” re- marked Joseph. ‘“‘She must be fair?"” “Beyond anything in the world—at least, in Judea.' “Thou dost well to modify thy words, for beauty is not confined to the Jews. I will see her and let'thee know my judg- ment. From thy warm description I [ear me that Enos hath cause for jealousy. Nay, do not protest, if it be not so it will none the less serve our purpose. ‘ What purpose? I fail—" “Thou wilt soon understand. Now for our plans. I start at once for Galilee to see and embrace my sister and uncle. Thou must have all ready agaiust my re- turn to depart with me that I may show thee something of the world.” “But my father As I asked this question my mind was marveling at the wonderful penetration of Manasseh, who had fathomed my heart to iis nethermost depths, noted the hope and expectation that pervaded it. = “‘He will not withhold his consent,” re- plied my smiling friend; “give thyseil no concern”on that account. “And the means—tiraveling must be very expensive.” mon, thy father, will supply it. He is rich and thou art his favoiite son. know how to put the matter to him. Consider everything as settled. Thou may’st wonder how I have contrived to live in luxury all these years, for the sum 1 received from'my father was but smail. I will let thée into a secret, Judas. Money is gotten by iabor, also by barter, and in matters of business the Jew leads the craftiest Roman, tne subtlest Greek, in all the worid, 'Without letung it be known among my fine frienas—for I mixed with nobles and have even been presented to royaity—l have engaged in commerce. I have ships on the Mediter- ranean, camels in the desert, agenis in Jerusalem, Lamascus, Cesarea, Antioch, Alexandria and even Gaul. I am richer than thou imaginest. Thou shait become my partner, and together we will amass enough to buy a kingdom.” Alluring as the progpect would have been 1o many it made §mail impression on me, who never coveted riches. Doubtiess my friend noted something of my feei- ings in my face, for he continued in a dif- ferent strain. He did not, inaeed, depre- ciate wealch, but showed how knowiedge could be acquired by its gid. He toid we of the philosophy of the Greeks, the iiter- ature of the Komans, the schools and porches of Athens, Antioch, Alexandria and Rome; of the high estimauon In wiiich scholars were heia by the gentiles. My heart swelled within me as he went on adaing charm to charm, and I needed not the silver mirror on the couch be- side him to know that my face was giow- ing with enthusiasm and expectaiion. Joseph Manasseh had conquered me in a singie encounter. No siudent, eager for knowledge, had ever such an oppurtunity as 1. No school- master instructs us like a friend. In- tently as 1 followed the glowing descrip- tons of Joseph, 1 had stiil time to tnink of the woids of King Solomon: *“As fron sharpeneth iron, so man quickeneth the understanding of his friend. The day was far spent and 1 was, through the faultiess memory and elo- quent words of Manasseh, intenily sur- veying the vast collection of books in the library of the museum at Alexandria, when a rap atsthe door recalled us botn to Kerioth. A moment more and my father entered the apartment. To my eyes he was that day, saving only Philo the philosopher, the noblest personuge I had ever seen. Years have passed since then; I have traveled far and mixed much with peoples of many nations, and only once met his superior, and he also was a Jew—of Galilee. Rug- ged, strong and straight as an oak, he carried his sixty years lightly and grace- fully. 1 have ever regreited the absence of art among our peopie, and never more than when feasting mine eyes upon my father, for I feel that David must have been like him, and would faln verify my fancy. No patriarch in the early days of our sacred nation ruled his family more wise- ly, justly and gently. The hard words of Philo were not meant for him; he wor- shiped God and obeyed and reverenced the law because he had ordained it. His heavy hair and the beard that descended low on his breast, white almost as snow, furnished an admirable frame for his strongly marked yet handsome features. Making ail allowances for the eyes of love, through which I saw him that day, he was, surely, one among ten thousand —a typical Jew, worthy the pristine days of Israel “I must act the part of a parent,” suid he, in (ones so kind and hospitable that the heart of th(—fioung man was plainiy touched, “since Michael, thy father, the friend of my youth, the companion of mine age, Is no more. Welcome to Ker- iotk and to my house, which. is thine, as it were his.” _ “There are fathers left in Israel though mine own hath departed,” cried Manasseh as he threw himself upon the floor and emiraced the knees of Simon. “I made but a sorry entrance into my native town,” be continued, 28 the old man raised him to his feet. *I acted but fooiishly, I tear, and will accept reproof trom thee as I would from Michael, my father, were he alive to bestow it.” ‘The spirit thou manifestest, my son, renders reproof unnecessary, and I have no fear that thy warmth of feeling will lead thee into difficulties in the future. White Liairs have not made me forgetful of the days of mine own youth and the views I then entertained. The altar in the Temple of Jerusalem, upon which the blood of lambs and bullocks is offered to Jehovah, is but an outward manifestation of the real altar within our own hearts, upon which we sacrifice our evil passions and over-zealous love of self. That Aaron stumbled and David fell in no manner gx- guses Mgviations in our own daily waik, but rather the knowledge should fix our eyes more closely upon the path that stretches out betore us lést we auso tail, and that beyond our power to rise again.” “I witnessed what seemed such a fall ay, father,” said I. “rom what I hear thou surely did'st, Judas, and the knowledge grieves me; the more so that I have promised Rabbi Samuel that thou shalt become his pupil in the Hoiy City.” ‘“Hath not his conduct broken the con- tract, sir?”’ asked my friend, who plainiy saw an opportunity for suggesting a sub- ject dear to his heart. ‘‘He might indeed impart knowledge, but his good example is p.ainiy a thing of the past, and surely thou bargainest for that, aiso. But for thy plous words and most rational and literal view of the law he had tnis aay led me to abandon the faith of my peo- As Joseph spoke I remembered his ds suggesting that he knew .how to approach my father, and wondered how much of his speech came from his heart and how much from that cleverness that had enabied him to overreach the Gentiles in matters of trade, and, overcoming the prejudice ugainst his race, gain for him- Self entrance to their inner circles. ““Thou speakest truly and wisely,” an- swered my father, after a brief pause, during which, it was evident, he was re- flecting deeply. “‘But he cannot profitably pursue his studies longer here, and if he goeth up to Jerusalem to some other doc- tor, Raobi Samuel, who hath great power there, being a member of the Sanhedrim, will surely stand in his way. I am sorely perplexed, for Judas hath gifts that should be cuitivated.” % “But wisdom is not alone of the Jews,” suggested Josep! “think of the philoso phers, the schools, the libraries, of Lhe Gentlle world. There thy son would make progress be{{flnd thy wildest hopes, and in time be spoken of as the Hillel, Shammai and other of our great doctors.’” “l have secen and known too many Gentiles to entertain for them that hatred that is most general among our people. How otherwise wouid my son have learn- ed something of Greek and Latin? I was not affrighted by the Talmuds, which say: ‘He who teaches his son Greek is accursed like him who keepeth swine.’ But the fear of God is better than lcarn- ing, and the knowledge of his law be- yond much wisdom."” “But, sir, pious Jews are by no means confined to Pa.estine. 1 have met many in my travels who worshiped the God of Abraham and observed his ordinances,” and the young mar went volubly on mul- tiplying instances of worthy and God- fearing Jews whom he had known, by no means forgetting to mention Philo, whose words he quoted with an accuracy that quite surprised me. ‘“Let Judas depart with me,” he urged, “and he will return to thee llrenfihened in faith, and worth; of filling the hest place in the nation.” There might have been much of policy in the strong, earnest words of Manasseh, yet his face glowed, and I saw that some measure of his enthusiasm had been im- arted to = v father, who rubbed his ands appro ringly, while I read almost over] nwerlni “terest in the steady gaze of deep blu. syes. I no longer won- the traveler's success In far countries, for my father was every span 2 Jew, and a shrewder man he could not have encountered during his five years of ‘wandering. “Thou may’st well be right,” replied the old man, half musingly, ‘Daniel and_his three brothers, the children of Judah, held fast to their faith and Integrity and did not let them go among all the temp: tions of Babylon. Why not, then, my son, Who is’as well ~descended? What thou Suggesiest must be most seriously con- sidered. I would that Cyborea, my wite, were llving to counsel with me. thou gocst, Judas, means will be required, and’ I must confer with Enos, thy brother, who shares tiune inheritance with thee. I bave mucn money let out with the bankers at Hebron and Jerusalem, but he may not be willing that thou shalt have it all, leaving the lands and cattle as his por- tion. Against the time that thou re- turnest from Galilee, Joseph, whither but now thou spokest of going, al: shall be determined. But come; tne dinner hath been aeiayed by reason of the festival. Le: us partake of {t.” The tollowing day I parted with my friend beside the bubble-blowing foui- tain at Hebron, ever a favorite spot with ne, for I had thus far borne him com- pany on his long journey into Galiles. it had been arranged that he should meet my father and myself in Jerusalem at the house of Joel, the banker, where we always lodged when in the Holy City, at the feast of the Tabernacles, which was soon to be celebrated. After my return the days paesed swift- ly. for the making of wine is well-nigh as pleasant as its drinking. My father had spoken to Enos touching my plans and need for ready money. To this my brother had as yet made no reply, but he had received the communication with- out outward signs of dixpleasure, and I had no fears of resistunce on his part, though not a word had been exchanged be"meen"ua touching the matter. ‘Encs,” said 1 one day, as we were gathering grapes together, “I have scen how ‘the daughter of the silversmith hath found favor in thine eves.” ‘‘And, since thou hast found favor with her, Jthe knowledge doth greatiy please thee,” he replied, with a frown that he made no effort to conceal. The sight hath indeed pleased me, Lrother, but not for the reason thou to me, unless she becomes my s.ster-in- law. Thou art my brother, and I rejoice i thy happwmess. Nay. do not frown, lest thou mutely questicnest my -word, and thou weil knowest that I have never spoken falsely to thee.” “Wiit thou’ swear by the Holy City, the home of the prophets, that thou hast no, mnterest in her?" ‘“Thou knowest tha 1 ever eschew idle oaths, brother, yet for the sake of thy peace of mind I will even swear by Jerusalem, yea, by Jehovah, that-I have no interest in Ruth, the daughter of Péleg, other than to see her happy as thy wife.” “It is well; I thank thee, brother. Against thee I could not succeed; now may I well hope to win her.” As Enos spoke he placed his basket upon the ground and extended both his hands. I.was pleased beyond my power to express it, for not since we were children together had his heart seem- ing.y s0 gone out to me. As I walked home that evening among the gathering shadows 1 passed Ruth and Enos. He was talking in low tones, while the listening poise of her head and the flush upon her fair cheek showed that his words were not falling on deaf or indifferent ears. Iv. “Is everything arranged? When do we start? This meeting in the house of a banker is rich in suggestions; already do 1 hear the gold clinking in thy purse.” Thus chattered Joseph gayly as we met and embraced at Jerusalemi. The feast was at an end and my father and Enos had departed tcgether for Kerioth, leav- ing me to await and weicome my friend, who had sent word that he was detained in Galilee. 2My tather hath glven his fullconsent’: I answered. ‘‘Enos hath said nothing as yet, but all will be settled agaihst our arrival home.” “I like not thine answer; he needed not a month to decide. But his o}g(inlcy shall not stop us. I will mysel® supply the means " “‘I cannot go on such terms, Joseph,” I answered firmly, “generous though they L= to the point of prodigality. But there is no danger; Enos will agree to the ar- raugement.” “Upon what dost thou base thy fath? He hath given thee no hint?” ‘“He hath not spoken, yet he is well pleased with me and cannot refuse.” ““And wherefore?” “‘I told him that I loved not Ruth and did not stand in his way.” Manasseh looked at me for a moment in astonishment, tuen burst into a low, a.most mocking laugh. “Thy father were foolish to send thee from home except with a man of judg- ment and experience, for sorely thou need’st a guardian. But frown not, my friend; thy weasness was a most amiable one. Enos will refuse, yet I think I can induce him to change his mind. Let us go for a stro. about the city.” ““How found'st tnou thv sister?” I asked, at once mystified and humliated by his words and anxious to change the theme. ‘Fresh and beautiful as a rose of Sharon, and happy as a child, save only for my departure. [ have provided well for her future and left her to the care of our uncle. But I must say no more of her lest thou discover'st that some business takes thee to Tiberias, near which city she abides, and our plans be broken, whatever thy brother may de- termine. Come, let us go into the city. Much to my surprise and disappoin ment, the conjecture of Manasseh turne out to be correct. Upon the evening o our return to Kerioth my father sadly infermed us that Enos had refused his consent to the proposed arrangement, claiming that it was too great a sacri- fice of his interests. “l remonstrated with him,” old man, “but without avail minded me that the m:-ney was mine own, and that I could do with it as I leased, well knowing that neither would give it nor thou accept it against his protest.” ‘He s young,” suggested Joseph; ‘‘he wi:l alter his determination.” “Yes, when the siies fall and the laws of the Medes and Persians change. He hath been obstinate from his birth. Thou dost not know him.” “Pardon my seeming presumption when I . answer that knowing men hath been my, principai = business for . some years back, and that mine ability to read their bearts hath been the secret of my success. Be not concerned about the matter, si a week Enos will seek thee out thee to give Judas the money. it to me; he will prove more geicrous than thou thinkest." . ‘‘Remember, Joseph, that thou wert charged with blasphemy,” said my father smilingly. “If thou succeedest in this undertaking thou wiit be open to an ac cusation of sorcery.” _“At the risk of again committing the first offense, I will say that the words of the wise King Solomon, ‘Money an- swereth all things,’ are no longer in force; I have discovered something tnat it does not satisfy, and predict that it will have great weight with thine eldest son.” ~ The new year had been ushered in #mid unusual rejoicings. The harvest had proven most bountiful and had been secured without loss. The barns and granaries were full to overflowing. The great road was well filled with asses, mules and camels, bearing grain, .oil, fruit and wine te the markets of Jeru- salem. In the midst such bounty the rich could not well complain, tho: the “‘signs of the times” had not spoken in their favor. On the eighth and iast day of the feast of the Tablrnacles, when the people forsook the leafy bowers in which they had sojourned for a week, and turn- ed their steps toward the Temple to calebrate the holy ending of the year, scavce an eye but watched ‘the course of said the He re- T N s the ascending smoke. ‘“The north wind driveth away the rain.”” So runneith the Scripture, and when, on that day, the smoke myveth toward the south, the rich are glad, for & dry autumn and winter are at hand, in which fruit and srain may well be hoarded and conveyed to market as oc- casion requires, which means high prices for their possessors. On the other hand, 4 south wind signifieth much rain and dampness, in which fruit and graln may only be kept at great risk. Hence the rich must sell at once,. to the great benefit of the poor and ali who are compelled to buy. This year the smoke moved briskly to the northward, and the hearts of the poor were glad. Although richer than any of his neigh- bors, Simeon, my father, rejoiced with the ‘poor, and when they were Sorrow- ful wept with them. He did more; he opened his barns and gave them of his raing, for thus he interpreted the law. o, aithough prices promised 1) be low, to the curtailment of his profits, he none the less fervently returncd thanks to God for his bounty and appointed a day whereon he would entertain with fiastng all the people of Kerioth. Manasseh and myself had been informed of his intentlons, and had so timed our +departure from Jerusalem as to rin no risk of missing the feast and the rejoic- ings and merry-makings that were cer- tain to accompany it. The tabl:s, built of oak to sustain great weights, and cec- orated with fruits and flowers, were spread in the midst of our vineyard, not fdr from the wine press. More fcod had been provided than could possibly be eat- en, it being the wish of my father that U)\u poor might bear away a lbcral sup- ply. Of roasted bullocks, sheep and poultry there was great store. Of barley bread none was provided, since only the test is fit for a feast, but thin disks, or cir- cles of the finest wheaten bread, and cakes ®of flour and honey fried in oil, we fairly plled upon the long tables. Cheese, butter, milk and eggs were supplied in great abundance. Of drinks there was no lack. Beer. such as is made in Medea and Babylon, and much used at Jerusa- lem: wine at the age of three ycars, which is accounted the best, and spiced wine mingled with the juice of the pome- granate, were suppiied without stint. Of strong drink, the fermented product of grain and warious fruits. none was set forth, for my father greatly abhorred drunkenness.” I have seen far more cost- ly and sumptuous entertainments since then, but none better calculated to satisfy the appetite and make glad the heart. The games and dances began early in the day and extended well into the night, light being suppiied by a great number of lamps which rendered the vineyard as bright almost as day, suggesting the bril- liant scene in the Court of the Women, in the temple, on the night of the first day of, the feast of the Tabernacles. All ages joined in the dances, my father tak- ing almost as prominent a part as the young men and maidens. A few only of those who had demanded the life of Manesseh were present, and among tnem Imoticed with some surpr.se Andrew, the Ilittle taiior. He alone was bold” and unconcerned, all the others ex- cusing themselves to Joseph and asking forgiveness for the fanatical rage they had manifested. And here my friend appeared to most excellent advantage. He made light of the matter, and strove to take a!l the blame upon himself, to the end that the best of %ond fellowship was soon estab- lished. This being, no_doubt, reported in the town, the other rioters speedily ap- peared and joined in the feasting and mer- Ty-making. ‘While at Jerusalem my friend had pro- vided himself with the choicest raiment, which admirably set off his handsome face and fine figure. He wore a cunning- ly fashioned chain of gold about his neck, hile 3 dlamond of great value sparkled in his signet ring. Youth, beauty, wealth and power are the four-fold forces that control mankind. and Joseph Manasseh was the chief guest, the courted favorite of all the company. More graceful than the youths of Ke- irioth, he was the foremost In evVery dance .and introduced steps and figures that he ‘tould not well have learned outside the courts of kings, or nobles at least. The Thearts of many maidens glowed that day at his compliments, while the cheeks of ‘more than one young man burned with envy and chagrin. He found his match in Ruth, the daugh- ter of the silversmith. Of all- the maid- ens she alone was not overpowered and subdued. She treated Joseph pleasantly, ‘but in no manner courted his attentions. She smiled bewitchingly, it is true, but upon others more frequently than upon him. 1 attributed her manner to indif- ference and the power that Enos had se- cured over her, but have since learned that it is the form of siege best calcu- lated to subdue resisting hearts. Once, in.dancing, she started a murmur of laughter by raising her s'ender white hands before her eyes to shut out the flashes of Joseph's diamond, as if it had been a ray of sunlight. In the daughter of the silversmith Manasseh had met his match. Toward evening, however, in an inter- val of rest. I saw him speaking with her a little apart from the company, and soon afterward they wa'ked away together. Many noticed this besides myself, among them Enos, who took a step forward as if to follow them, but turned quickly and with a flushed face in another direction. ‘When I again noted them in the dance fhe manner of the malden bad visibiy s'hanged. “Bhe no lodger half avoided my friend. but returned glance for glance and smile for smile. “‘She hath promised him: what did I tell thee, Berenice?’ “I could have done he same had T been as bold as she.'\ We shall have a betrothal next.” ‘‘Her father is rich, and he knows it.” “There :Vill be a marriage feast upon his re- urn.” These: and other like expressions that fell upon my hearing during the evening showed p'ainly the opinion the company had forined, and a fear for the future happiness of my brother took possession of my heart. The foliowirg day, as we were Iving in the ‘shade after partakirg of the mid- day meal, my father approached us. To know another completely we must love him, “for then only dc we see with his eyes. think with his mind, feel wth his heart. Before Simon’s calm lips had cpen- ed I well knew that he was the bearer of good tiWdings. ] 'Joseph.” said he, as we rose to our feet, “a time-honored proverb hath coma to ‘nmaught,” hath been proven false; a prophet may indeed be recognized in his native town and among the friends of his yodth. Thou d'd’st judge rightly. But row Enos came to me and_ sa ‘Father, 1 crave thy forgiveress. 1 have acted most selfishiy toward Judas, my brother. I pray’ thee let him have the money- he desireth and go his way. I will abide with thee and be well content.” All is‘now mettled, Judas. I can secure ready money at Hebron, and for the rest will give thee orders upon Joel, my bank- er’‘at Jerusalem, which thou canst use as suits thy necessities.” The old man spoke cheerily, almost tri- umphantiy, yet my clear eves. rendered stronger by sympathy and love, detected a quiver in his.lip, a moisture in his eyes and, so swift are revulsions of feeling, the smiles vanished from my face and. burst- ing into tears, I threw myself at his feet. A week later we started on our travels, We were going first to Joppa, where we proposed to take a ship. Our route thus lay northward to Jerusalem and thence westward, by a very ancient highway, to the sea. The home farewells said, my father ac- com; fed us to l.soln! on the great road, whither he h; ordered the ser- vants to precede us with the camels. The little caravan had halted um the ve spot where my comrade had n assail by the mob of Kerioth, and I noted that some of the smooth stones were still miss- ing from the pavement. ““We part here, Judas,” said niy father, as we reached the camels, two of which were kneeling to receive us. w:dy lieth onward into the great, bustling, an 1 fear me, wicked world of the Gentile: mine backward to the little one that tho now for the first time leavest, where care will often sit with me until thou return- but I will be ever ready to welcome thee home with the open arms and the bless- ings of a father, and that without regard to the state of thy fortunes. Forget not this, 1 _pray thee. Ever bear thyself a man. ¥Fear God and keep his command- ments. Farewell.” I embraced and kissed him, as Manas- seh had done before me, mounted my camel and rode tearfully away. Would all the knowledge, experience and pleas- ure before me compensate for the sac l}‘;e.\‘s of the fond heart.l was leaving be- ind? A sense of mingled loneliness and re- sponsibility took possession of my mind, and for a moment I thought of al don. ing the great road that would lead me into the wide world beyond, and retur ing to take the place of care at the side of my dear old father in the narrow ‘one behind. Had I done 80 I had missed much of suffering, shame and sin, and yet—so utterly past finding out are the provi- dences of God—I had also misse the greatest weight of glory that hath come to man since the days of Enoch, for, like him, it hath been given me to walk with dlvinity. Sorrow, as well as joy, can raise one to a sort of ecstacy, and at that moment a confused dream, a jumbled mirage of far-off events, seemed to_rise athwart my vision. Again I saw Ruth, the sil- versmith’'s daughter, gorgeously attired now, moving in a strange, soul-bewilder- ing dance; saw the face of my father, tear-stained and sorrowful, ut still mutely attesting the ineffable love that possessed his heart. A female head, radiant with an almost celestial beauty, leaned upon my breast and kissed away my tears. Once more I beheld the nate- ful face of Rabbl Samuel, scowling upon one who seemed Philo glorified, while Andrew the tailor moved a huge stone backward and forward above his head. ‘The forms grew more distinct, the scenes more terrible. The tragedy of the uni- verse seemed opening before me when a word from Manasseh sent it back into the cloud-masked future frown which it was emerging, and, raising mine eyes from the curved back of my faithful and patient camel, 1 saw onl{ the terraced hils and mouutains of my oynood, green arld beautiful, though denuded of their grain andgfruit, with the brook of Eschol shining like the face of the comforting maiden. nding beneath them. Turning, 1 saw my father stunding with outstreiched hands, as if bestowing his biessing and invoking the benediction of God. Waving a farewell, I left Kerioth and the first stage of my life behind me and moved onward, up the great road, toward the wide and fateful world. BOOK IL THE KINGDOM OF POWER, 1. It was morning in the Imgerlll City, the mistress of the world. he almost level shafts of sunshine danced along the stony pavements; dried the dew from the ground in the Campus Martius and other open spaces;.drove the shadows from long porticos, soon to teem with trade, and art, and philosophy; gilded statues, obelisks and triumphal arches— monuments of human glory and misery —flocded the windows of majestic tem- ples and princely palaces, and—so boun- tiful and impartial is nature—struck upon the humbie homes and hovels of the poor. The eastern slopes of the seven hills of Rome were glowing in a bath of bright sunuight. If peace, plenty and pur- ity reigned not here, where centered the power, wealth and learning of the world, the greed, ambition and evil passions of man were surely at fault. not God, who caused the sun to shine. Rome was not only the ruler of the world, she was the world itself in _mini. ture. From Hispania to Armenia, Britan- nia to Egyrt. the fruits of the earth, the products of the mines, looms and work- sheps, yea, the very beasts of the flelds and jungles, crowded to find entrance at her roaring, clattering gates. Thither thronged also the-flowers of the human race. Many came in bonds to sweat for the cupidity, dance and sing for the vanity, dle for the amusement end live for the lust of their conquerors or purchasers. Thousands came willin ly; some to engage in trade and acquire wealth, though more to spend their win- nings: many ‘o join the legions and seek glory and advancement on bloody battle- flelds; others to acquire knowledge, still others to impart the same—all to see the world. Not even the gods remained at home. Tke divinities and idols of all na- tions found ready and welcome niches in the great Pantheon, the home of univer- sal religion and superstition. Surpassing Babylon in her palmies. and wickedest days, Rome was at once the promise and fruition, the pander and prostitute of mankind. For thirteen years Tiberfus had sat up- cn the throne left vacant by its buflder, Augustus. The territory and glory of Rome had been established under the republic, and little remained for the Em- peror but to maintain them. For some years his -moderation and seemingly manly qualities Had given promise of a Lappy reign, but, after the death of his nephew and adopted son, Germanicus, who divided with him the favors and af- fection of the people, his truly bad char- acter began to manifest itself. But he still contrived to mask in part the awful depravity of his nature, for Livia, his aged mother, whom he had deprived of 21l authority, still lived, and ight well use his unpopularity to compass his over- throw. Taken altogether, a greater mon- ster than Tiberius Caesar hath never misgoverned men or defled God. 1 knew little enough of Rome that bright morning, for I had only disem- bariked at daybreak, and was within the city for the first time. I had come to meet my friend and comrade. Joseph Manasseh, who had left me three months before in Alexandria to visit divers cities in the interesis of our rapidly growin; business. Two and a half years h; elapsed since I left Kerloth and my fond old father for Joppa d the wide world. I had not seen him ce, though I had several times. contrived to send him le ters apprising him of my good health, prosperity and advancement. During thi time I had resided principally at Alex- andria, where, in the porches and un- der the tuition of competent masters, I had made rapid progress. particularly in phiicsophy, which, by reason of its re- ligicus character, attracted me more than dry and imperfect sclence. There I had speedily met Philo, and, without becoming his especial pupil, had listened to many of his lectures and dis- courses, besides diligently studying his voluminous writings. M{ first sion of this great man hLad been amply justified, and I came to realize that the panegyric of Manasseh on the great road at Kerloth had been in no sense an ex- aggeration. His philosophy broadened m; aiready liberal views of religion, an convinced me that God was not solely conclequ with the sffairs of his chosen peop! I was to meet Manasseh at the house of our agent, a Roman named Tulll in the Via Sacra, but had small hope o accomplishing it that day, the city was to be given over to street des, gladiatorial shows and general joicings, in honor of the return of some victorious legions from Gaul. The sound of music, accompanied by & confused hum of voices which soon de- veloped into ringing cheers, attracted my attention, and I hurried onward toward thy _Campus Martius, sounds appeared ta P against others who thronged streets in a mad rush f tioned, Tiberius had asssmbled in a camp at Roi Nor were they designed alone for purposes of show and vanity. The