The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, December 21, 1902, Page 5

THE FUNDAY CALL 5 N e et A Y torn, by contending emotions. A great end all-prevailing love, only recently fully realized by myself, and com Te- quited by the object on which it was centered—the devoted wife who stood be- slde me—raised my spirits almost to the clouds that drifted, like pleasure-boats on the Sea of Galilee, aimlessly above us. Again, thoughts of my mind-blasted friend and his lost wife plunged them into a dejection as dark and profound as the nethermost depths of Gehenna, within the horrid gloom of which I seemed to see the demon-possessed eyes of Joseph g;&;);;:g;:&rolapht\;ld]y upon me, as if won- could experi lth{s lbsen:e. perience happiness Between these strongly marked transi- tions of feeling, thoughts of the tall, gaunt baptizer and the Messiah he pro- claimed presented themselves, like flashes of heaven-born light, to my almost dis- tracted mind, and a hope, vague, uncer tain, but none the less amounting to peace, pervaded my turbulent heart, VIIL And now there entered into my life & mystery more fascinating than 2hz weird- est tale of anclent days; a mystery that at first far surpassed my powers of com- prehension and hath grown more in- scrutable and perplexing with the pass- ing days, yet—strangest mystery of all— & mystery that hath won my heart, which loves while it marvels, adores though it doth not understand. 1 epproach this great mystery with a painful sense of mine own unworthiness to write touching it, for who hath art to #et out in words that which he doth not bimself clearly apprehend? But, as I wrote in the very beginning, the end is not yet, and the scales may be lifted from my heavy eyes that I may see clear- 1y the path in which love alone now holds my uncertain, staggering feet; may fa- thom the strange mystery which is, I feel well assured, the key to those other strange twin mysteries—Life and Death. What I have aiready set down, how well Soever it {llustrates the vanity of life, the wickedness of the world, the folly of &mbition and the providence of God, loses force and interest, even unto me, as I ap- proach the real object that first inspired me to write. Yet, after all, it doth not lack & certain value eince it makes mani- {Q;l the divine wisdom that gave me jowledge, stripped me of hampering, soul-destroying riches, tried me in a fur- nace of tribulation, recalled me to my true self and gave me a glimpse of the mighty riddle that I hope to see unriddied in the re-establishment of Israel and the betterment of all mankind. Inanimate objects and unseen, myster- Souely hidden forces of nature, may, I em well-nigh persuaded, become so im- pregnated with the great all-powerful life that pervades d controls the universe, #0 big with the secret influence of impend- ing marvelous events, so imbued with the oses of God, as to whisper in the ears of love some promise of joys to gome; to flash before the eyes of faith an image—shadowy, uncertain, distorted, but still glorified—of some new and surpass- ingly rich gift awaiting underserving man. If this be but & fancy of my mind, which hath ever ught to find reasons for things that appear incompatible with the rules that seemingly guide and control this world of ours, it may be that that an- cient sage and philosopher of Greece, So- crates, was right in believing that bright vislons and great thoughts were bestowed upon him by a good demon whose home was in & fairer, purer realm than ours, Z:! who possessed the power and the will invade our wicked world and exert a beneficent influence upon him. ‘There is nothing in this that should be surprising to a Jew. From the day when our sinful first parents were thrust out of their pleasant garden, and cherubim with a flaming sword that flashed all ways at once, were placed toward the rising sun to guard the eastern approach to the Tree of Life—from the b-ginning. al- most, of man’s existence, have not angeis ever appeared to comfort, to console, to guide, to warn, 10 censu weak and er- ring man? And when hall Israel greater need of these things than now? And may not angels speak to our minds, not in He- brew, nor Chaldee, nor Greek, but in the universal, ever-understood language of love and wisdom, and that without mak- ing visible their forms? The Essenes so believe, and their simple lives, long vigils end pure hearts may bave taught them many things that remain fast-sealed books unto others. Whatever the cause—whether God had breathed upon nature the gift of proph- ecy, as, in the beginning, he made man a living soul; whether bright angels, de- scending Jacob-ladders of love, influenced y impressive mind, or, perchance, the rite of just men, sef free from the thralidom of their bodies and grown to perfection in the sunshine of heavenly peace, returning to the scenes of their earth-life, made the announcement to my gladsome soul—whatever the cause, I was, in those calm days following my union with Miriam, mioved to believe that a crisis in the affairs of men was impending; that God was about to manifest himself @s in the days of the prophets; that the Kingdom of Heaven, proclaimed by the tall baptizer, was surely at hand. 1 heard it in the thunder-ladened blasts that, gathering over the great Western Eea, died above the placid bosom of Lake Galilee, or were whirled away to the northward toward Mount Hebron; in the lowing of kine, the bleating of flocks and the prattle of childhood. I felt it in the gentle airs that brought sweet perfumes from the flowery kingdom of the East, in the warmth of the rising sun and the chill of falling dew. I saw it in the boun- tiful harvests that graced the smiling land, In the serious, expectant faces of the people. in the loving, unselfish eves of Miriam. I scented it in fragant flowers, in ripened fruits, in° new-mown hay, in the perfume of the incense burned in the house of God. I tasted it in wine, and ofl, and flesh, and bread; in whatever food that strengthened me against a day of ac- tion which 1 knew to be fast coming. On every side, on all occasions, senses seemed to to my soul, gfir in the ehrill monotone of the voice my heard at Engedi; “The Kingdom of leaven 18 at han ‘.111. °(thltl;y days Whlt;!lll m.g'“t:efl th; e marriage having elapsed, cnguud my wife to the care of the kind uncle who had so long fostered and pro- r_and started in quest of my lost brother. This time I sought him first at upon the Great BSea, going thence to the northward, following the coast as far as Tyre. At all points T made ligent inquiries, frequently employing others to d&, mle in ut‘:eed!es}l;Ch'\A‘t earneg not unf reac the st name« dt%n I found traces of the man for whom 1 S0 earnestly searched; he had been ssen by & number of people, who ur.-: in their descriptions of my most unfortunate friend. t first my epirits I g'q great height, but they speedily soon learned that he had been “Tyre before he was made a captive at Caesares th&i. having arrived thers some months before in a ship. Bitterly , I departed.for the latter city, by way of Northern Gallee. 1 spent much time In 2 soul-depressing, utterly fruitless search, gom(nn‘n and penetrating the to a_considerable distance in all But, though at times de- o fallure, where J had been Jea 'or success, er long lost ‘Tp: mysterious inward power seem- to uphold my mm( lglnlu while t ever urged me on’ At length T re- solved to abandon my search in that coun- try and return to my home in Galllee. At the close of a long and laborious . 1| try ons. i vel, for 1 was proceeding on foot, 1 o Betheaida_not the city by 4 on the west side of the Sea of Gall- , but the one on the no: where the upper Jordan discharges its waters the southern end of the -'u';rudymmmdwthn.m ter.” < These words proceeded from Simon, with whom 1 had quarreled, who, while speaking, advanced and extended his ‘hand ;4; .th‘:‘“ ‘who llmd on L‘hcmut‘r,eml edfv beach, loo! at the boat. With a courteous bow, though without spenklns, the other accepted the broad proffere m and, without wetting his sandaled feet, stepped into the rather awkward craft that Andrew was steady- ing. While the two fishermen were push- ing the boat into deeper water, where it would float with their added weight, I carefully noted the senger—his face being turned toward the beach. I, who have traveled far and have aili- gently read forms, faces and ings with a view to determining character, re- quired not a second glance to know that I was in the presence of a superior and most unusual personage, a many-sided man, who could be studled at different times with widely varying conclusions. Considerably above the average size of men, there was about him, as he stood steadily in the rockma boat, his arms folded across his broa d well-develop- ed breast, a symmetry 0f form, a grace of posture, & commanding mien, that seem- ed to add immensely to his real stature and cause him to tower far above all who stood before him on the beach. His hands, browned by exposure, were long, finely molded, and, like his whole person, seemed made to add to the persuasion of his tongue, as well as execute feats of strength. His face, as I first saw it in the quiet of entire repose, was exceedingly fair, the different features seeming to harmonize in a most perfect and agreeable manner. Firmness and kindness -appeared to meet and blend in a manly yet most gentle ex- pression, as though either could assert its supremacy, when occasion demanded. His hair, which was straight where it issued from beneath the folds of his turban, seemed to change its hues somewhat in the sunlight, after the manner of rich old wine, which it greatly resembled in color. It was divided in the middle of his head, after the fashion common in Galilee, and descended, curling gracefully, low on his shoulders. His beard. of the same hue, and curling ifke his hair, was of moderate growth and slightly forked in form. His forehead was broad, indicative of great mental force, and was destitute of wrinkles, thus testifying to the equanim’ty of his temper. His eyes, blue and ex- ceedingly brilllant, shone with a frank kindness, and possessed an almost fas- cinating attraction, as though a pure, winsome soul looked forth from their liquid depths. His nose was long and straight, with slightly distended nostrils. His complexion was clear, though ruddied by vigorous health and the sun and air of 2 warm climate. He wore the typical garb of a Jew. It was neither coarse, like that aof a laborer, nor of the fine quality aff cted by the rich. His turban, which was of white linen, was fastened under his chin by a cord. His tallith, or mantls, was blue and of ample size, though by no means so long as those worn by the extreme Pharisees, and dis- closed the white tunic beneath it. At the four corners of the mantle were the fringes enjoined by the law; these, like the garment. itself, were only of moderate length. His phylacteries, of which he wore one on_each hand, Wwere narrow bands of parchment, not boxes of metal, such as are so ostentatiously displayed by the Pharisees. The garb of one's own choosing often betrays the real character of the wearer, and the dress of this man seemed to give emphasis to manly form, graceful and commanding mien, intellectual, yet mild and loving countenance. It showed that he obeved and respected the law, without exalting it to the high place rightly re- served for God only; that he aped not the fashions and vanities of the rich, neither affected a false humility by making a dis- piay of poverty. Taken for all in all, the stranger, who was in the prime of life, being. apparently, little older than myself, came nearer my ideal of perfect manhood than any I had ever before seen. I had scarce completed my rapid ob- servations and was wondering who this strange man could be who thus attracted the attention of the pecple, that they quit- ted their homes and occupations to follow after him, when he seated himself and Simon, with Andrew his brother, entered the boat and laid hold of the oars. “Nay, nay, Rabbi!” shouted an old man, who had advanced so far that his feet were being wetted by the gentle waves that seemed to kiss the sandy beach. “Leavest thou thus those who have fol- 1owed thee from the city? Expound unto us the law, before thou goest.” With this a great clamor arose from the thiong, women and children adding their shrill tones to the heavy voices of men, all demanding speech from him whom the old man had addressed as rabbi. 1 stocd somewhat apart from the others, though near the margin of the like, ¢lse I doubt not I should have joined In the outery, So exceedingly anxious was I to hear the voice of him who had so strangely attracted me. With a smile that would have well be- come the brightest of God’'s ministering angels, at once condescending and ap- proving, he waved his hand to the two boatmen and addressed them in a voice 50 low that his words were not aud upon the shore. Without replying, they ceased the work of rowing, which they had just begun, and thrust their oars into the sand to steady the boat. Then he that had been hailed as rabbi arose and turned his trust-inspiring countenance, which reminded me now somewhat of Philo the philosopher, though more com- manding and spiritval, upon the expect- ant, almost breathless throng. “] was not minded to speak unto you, for mine hour is not yet come,’ he be- gan, in a voice which, though low, was full, deep and most strangely musical, “put T cannot offend those who come like little children to learn. One hath pro- claired, and his words have been carried throughout all Galilee, that the Kingdom of Heaven is at hand. It will be small in the beginning but, like until leaven which a woman took and mixed with three measures of barley flour, until the whole was leaven, it will increase and spread until it encomfpasseth the whole earth, as it hath not done since the days ‘when men fir?t gezan to call upon the name of the Lord.” “Who shall enter into this kingdom, Rabbi?” asked the old man who had first protested against the speaker’s departure, “He that hath clean hands and a pure heart,” was the scriptural regl “Alas, who then shall enter?” He i who reptenteth sins shall be blotted out an g'e! shall surely enter. Think ye that your Heavenly Father loveth not, like an earthly rparent, to give good gifts unto his children, and what Eood gift can exceed forgiveness? “Behold, 1 declare unto you a parable: A certain’ man had two sons. Now the ounger of them said unto his father: ‘Give me the portion of }hy estate that rightfully falleth to me’ And he di- vided his living between them. And not long afterward the younger son gathered 21l his possessions together and depart- ed into a far country, and there wasted his substance in riotous living. “Ana when he had squandered all there arose a mighty famine in that land, and he began to be in great want. And he hired himself unto a man of that coun- try, who sent him forth into the flelds to feed his swine. And he was g0 _an- hungered that he would fain have filled his be!ly with the pods which the swine did eat; but no man gave him leave, and he remembered the precepts of his youth and ate them not.” 1 kngw ndt whether the human mind 1s made up of two parts that can becom- separated, the one from the other, but at that moment, when my every faculty appeared centered upon the strange per- sonage before me, whose words seemed to take form and burn their impress upon my very soul; at that moment I saw, with ell the vividness of actual alfiht, the broken, parched —country where my long sufferings had reached their climax; saw the fiithy swine wal- lowing in the mire, the heap of dry pods in the little hovel. ] also saw, seeming- ly at the same time, our splendid palace cn the Palatine Hill; saw_Ruth execut- ing her wonderful dance, Joseph signing the parchment in the sudience chamber of Tiberius Caesar, “With this he came to himself,” the speaker went on in the same clear, soul-penetrating tones, “‘and said: ‘How many hired servants of my father have bread enough and to spare, and I perish with hunger? I will rise and go _to my father, and will say unto him, ‘Father, 1 have sinned against heaven and in thy sight, and am no more worthy to be called thy son; make me as one of thy hired servants.. And he arose and jour- neyed into his own country, and came to his father. But while he was yet a great way off his father saw him and had compassion in his heart, and ran and fell on, bis neck and kissed mfi;" n my mind seemed to separate steelt from itself. I saw the form of m; father, like the shadow of a great the in a weary land, outlined against eastern sky; saw him lock tqgra Hebron; saw his turbaned head bowed in prayer; saw bis eyes sweep the great road; saw him running toward me; saw his tear-stained face upon my heaving At that instant the spcaker turned his brilliant, luminous eyes upon me. 'Twas but & swift, momentary glance, yet its “Whosoever will. effects will abide with me while a jot of memory remains. I saw that he knew my life, read my inmost thoughts; saw tbat he was above and beyond the mean affairs of this world; saw that he was the Messiah pro- claimed by the tall baptizer; saw—most lorious sight of all—that he loved me. en I sank together in a heap upon the sands, and saw no more. BOOK V. THE SON OF GOD. 5 “Heardst thou ever a better discourse in the synagogue, Zebedee?” “Never, Jona, and in my youth I more than once listened to Hillel; was present when he so cleverly answered the mock- ing Roman, who balanced himself on one foot and promised the great doctor to become a Jew if he expounded to him the whole law of Moses while he stood in that posture. Thou remember'st it, Jona?” “I have heard the story, but recall not the words. How answered Hillel?" “‘Do not unto others as thou wouldst not have others do unto thee.’ replied he, ‘that is all the law; tha rest mere comment.” I had risen to my feet after recovering from the swoon into which the strange recital of minre own sinful life and re- pentance, together with the searching, soul-penetrating look of the wonaerful teacher, had plunged me, and stood, ob- livious to my surroundings, watching the boat that was bearing him across the Jake, when this dialogue attracted my attention. It was carried on between two old men, all of the recent throng that remained upon the shore. The one called Zebedee was he who had asked for and obtained the discourse. Both wore the garb of fishermen, and, though well advanced in years, seemed strong and vigorous. ‘“'Twas a great parable,” continued Zebedee; “and one that appeals to us, who are fathers. There is no offense that I would net forgive my sons, though they seldom require it. If God be indeed our Father what have we to fear?" “Nothing,” replied Jona, ‘“so long as we do his will, or repent of our trans- gressions. But methinks the aster ended the parable somewhat abruptly, though doubtless he had a purpose in 80 doing. What sayest thou, brother?’ Walking slowly as they conversed, the two old men had approached within a few paces of where I stcod, and noticed me for the first time. The last question was addressed to me, “I doubt not that he did,” was my re- ply; “he seems a man of purposes. He who knoweth all the past can surely read the future. He designed. 1 think, that you, should learn the remainder ' from " Jknow that he hath spoken it be- fore,” said Zebedee. y_son James told me something of it. Where didst thou hear him utter it?” I saw him here for the first time,” I replied. “The parable is the story of mine own life. ‘To proclaim this is but to testify of his power. What wouldst thou know?” “Whether the elder son entered and partook of the fatted calf,” replied Jona. He did, and was reconciled with me, his brother, that was the prodigal.” ‘“That was well,” said Zebedee; ‘“‘for if God forgives us our sins. as the Master sald, we surely ought to forgive one another.” “Who is this man who speaks with such eloquence, truth and autherity?” I asked, turning to Jona, who, I felt cer- was the father of Simon and An- ““To confess the truth, he is a relation of mine” said Zebedee, not giving his an opportunity to reply, and speaking with evident pride; *‘or, rather, is the son of my wife's sister. His name lquesus ben Joseph.” ‘And he “giveth the lie to an old oroverb, much quoted, I am told in Jeru- salem,” added Jona, “since he abideth in Nazareth.” “But_who is he? a ;gopheé?" L, Beyon all , question,” responded Zebedee, “but who he is we may only He must surely be surmise, since he has not yet proclaimed himself.” “‘And whom thinkest thou that he is?” “We think—" The old man paus and looked searchingly around, as Phou:;g he feared the smooth sands concealed a listener, or that the waves might have ears—"we think that he is the Messiah promised of old by the prophets and an- nounced of late in the wilderness, by John, the son of Zacharias. We think him the successor of David and look to see him soon ascend the throne of a liberated Israel, which he may one day make the equal 'of Rome, for we are God's chosen peopie.” ‘‘He hath already done many wonder- ful works,” added Jona, speaking in an awed whisper, “At Cana, near his dwell- ing place, here in G de, sume time back, he attended a martriage feas water pots, holding two firkins each, to be filled with water, which, with a word, he changed int. “And that of the be; dee, wlkr;fe-.'l" ," broke in Zebe- ““The Governor complained that it as not set forth upon the first day.”’ Doth not such power and bounty pro- claim a king?" cried: Jona. “When his time cometh he will make short work of these oppressive, tax-gathering Romans.” “And will set metes and bounds to the power of the chief priests and Saddu- cees,” broke in the other, who was evi- dently minded to have his say. “He is the friend of the poor, so much so that many say he is an Essene, which Is not true, since he mixes freely with the peo- le. Now John the son of Zacharias, who appeneth also to be a relation of mine —his mother having been a cousin of Sa- lome, my wife—hath been an Essene; in- deed, it was chiefly from them that he took the idea of baptizing his disciples. He still adheres to their rules and nefther eats flesh nor drinks wine; while my wife's sister's son doeth both, as be- cometh a descendant of David, who is one day to be hailed as a king.” “He hath no great llan for priests, ecribes or overstrict Pharisees,” added Jona, *‘while those who believe not in the resurrection will soon be deprived of their power in Jerusalem. Thev who walk in the admonition of the Lord will speedily take the places of those sneering scoffers, the Sadducees.” “Knowest thou Calaphas?’ I asked, turning to Zebedee, for I could not doubt that he was the man of whom the high priest had spoken in Jerusalem. “‘Of old,” was the reply, ‘“while he was yet a young man and Annas, whose daughter he had not yet married, was still high priest. 'T'was he who examined John, my son, when he took his own sins upon himself and became a son of the covenant; but that was before Cafap- has became a Sadducee and joined An- nas’ party.” ““Thy son should be more discreet he talks with Caiaphas, who is el :zl?-'; crafty man,” sald I. “At the last Purim feast I heard the hlsh priest say that a young man named John, the son of a certain Zebedee, had told him that the Messiah prophesied by the son of Zach- u;-lu”s was likely to prove a relation of “At the Purim feast?” cried the old man, his face flushing with surprise and annoyance. “He knew nothing then. Yet John ever loved Jesus and expected great things of him. But to speak thus to Caiaphas; why, 'twere the height of folly. u amazesi me.” ‘‘He had further informed the high priest that John the Baptizer was {ll cousin, which led Annas to remark that it looked like a family plot.” ““John is young and hath too great faith in men. I must speak to him of this. One who holds his office by virtue of the nomination of Valerius Gratus, and is hence under obligations to the Emperor, can hardly be trusted in such matters." “‘But this Jesus of Nazareth,” said I, re- turning to the subject so near my heart; “he seemeth a man of learning, and thou addressed him as Rabbi.” “Yet is he not rabboni,” quick]; said 7., Delther wishes he, I hink. e be called such. Like his son, our brother is somewhat overzealous, ' particularly where one of his family Is in question.” “I am but a fisherman, Jona ben Na- than, like thyself, only somewhat better supplied with silver,” retorted the other, his voice and manner indicating anger, “yet is my family one of the oldest in Galilee, and is surely not a reproach, either to the Master or he who announced his coming.” In this display of temper, net to jealousy, between two old friends, caught a glimpse of some of the difficul- ties that lay in the path of him who had come, as I believed, to re-establish Israel, and the prospect grieved me. “But where learned he letters?” I asked. “At .he feet of his mother,” replied Zebedee, ‘‘a most pious woman, learned beyond most of her sex—even though she chance to be the ter of my wife, friend Jona. Later he studied at the school—a new thing since my boyhood. No yous man in BT] Galllee knoweth the law n:fi the prophets like Jesus.” et hath he never negl&cted his duty, at as was his love for books,” said gz:m. the ‘recent jealousy evidently for- ttén in his admiration and love for esus. ‘“‘He ever assisted his father, who was. in his lifetime, a carpenter. He came but now from Nazareth, where he hath worked for some months past for the benefit of his mother. son will make a4 wise and safe King.” “From boyhood he hath been wise be- yond his vears,” the other went on with all the loquacity of age. ‘“When he was twelve years old and went up to Je- rusalem, that he might become one of the congregation, as each of us did in his time, he was left, or rather remained be- hind, and his absence was not noticed, since a great number were traveling in the caravan, until the second day, when his ggrenu returned in haste to seek him. here thinkest thou they found him?” “In the temple, like Hillel, listening to the discourses of the doctors,” I repiied at a venture, remembering how the great rabbl that was to be is said to have listened at a window, not having the price to pay the doorkeeper that he might enter into the presence of the rabbins, “Thou are right, in part,” replied Zebe- dee, disappointed, I thought, at my clever guess, “They found him in one of the gnrchofl of the temple, but, mark this—I ad it from my sister-in-law, his mother, and can attest its truth—disputing with the doctors touching knotty points of the Jaw. Yea, and sore discomfiting them, Since that day none hath oftener been called to the desk in the synagague at Nazareth to read and expound the law, than Jesus ben- Joseph. ‘But who art thou, from whose life the master hath drawn a lesson for the people? Thou art of Judea, by thy speech.” “I am Judas of Kerioth, now living in the village cf Hutton, near Tiherias, where but lately 1 married Miriam, the niece of Simeon ben Levi. That the mas- ter knoweth my life attests that he hath divine knowledge, never having before seen me; that he saw fit to use it for the instruction of the people and to bind my heart into him proclaims his goodness.” “That he hath divine wisdom I have long thought,” said Zehedee, “and thy tes- timony but confirms my opinion. Since thou, like us, hast heen drawn unto him, and art ready to become one of hig dis- ciples, I will let thee into a secret that is known but to few, scarce any indeed, out- side our family.” Here 'the old man paused and looked smilingly, almost tri- umphantly at his comrade. ‘‘Jesus was born at Bethlehem,” he continued, *“near Jerusalem, whither his parents had jour- neyed from Nazareth. that they might be enrolled as required by the orders of the Romans. Now, before the vear of their betrothal had ‘elapsed, Joseph ben Eli discovered that Mary—such s the name of my sister-in-law——" The old man started and stopped ab- ruptly. Standing in listening posture, with ‘mine eyes fixed upon the ground. I gaw the cause; Jona had stepped-upon his 00t. “Joseph, who was a most worthy man,” Zehedee continued, after a momeéntary pause, “somehow became suspicipus—" Again the sandaled foot of Jona de- scended upon that of his compinion, and again the latter stopped abruptly, and I saw the two exchange a quick glance. “'Tis time we were spreading our nets, Jona,” the late anxious story-teller de- clared, with a glance at the sun. ‘“We will see thee anon, Judas of Kerioth. and have further discourse with thee touch- g the Master Peace he with thee,” Without another word the two old men bowed low and walked, quite briskly for their years, down the beach, leaving me standing alone. No one likes to be distrusted. particu- larly when his motives are of the best, and a feeling of resentment svrged into my breast as I watched the two fisher- men. At no great distance they <tnpped beside a large beat that had been drawn upon the beach. From ‘this they todk two nets, which they proceeded, with great care, to spread upon the sand. The sight somewhat restored the equilibruim of my mind and temper; though anxious to rid themselves of my company, their excuse had not been a mere subterfuge. My feeling of bitterness departed alto- gether when I remembered that Jona had but taken to himself the warning I had administered to Zebcdee touching the in- discreetness of his son in conversing with the high priest. “He may have concluded that I am a spy sent forth by Annas,” was my reflec- tion. The fact that I had conversed with him and Caiaphas touching Zebedee's son, the baptizer. and the promis~d Messiah almost warranted such a conclusion to a suspicious, or even critical mind. My identifying myself with the voung man in the parable of the great teacher, with the addition of facts which he had not seen fit to narrate, looked much like an effort to gain the confidence of two of his mest devoted friends. That I was a Judean was probably the strongest point against me, since the Galileans fully re- ciprocate the 1l feeling with which my people regard the inhabitants of the “Cir- cle of the Gentiles.” My sole distress now was the burning ssessed me to know the se- Joseph _ben D covered? That it was discredit of Mary, the mother of Jesus, was altogether out of the question; yet it referred to her bhetrothal and was known only to her family and a few of the Intimate diseiples of her son. I de- termined to fathom this secret, quite cer- tain that the key that unlocked it would lay bare the real character and mission of the man who had read and taken pos- session of the inmcst rec 5 of my ful heart. Not since the davs of my innccent child- hocd had such calm peace, such perfect confidence in the unknown future, per- vaded my soul as when I turned my steps toward the village of Hutton (and my expectant, loving wife. 1 had fed with swine, as predicted by Milo Manlius, and believed that the emanicaption of my friend from the thraldem that enslaved him was at band, while the great des- tinv that the K'ng of Wretchedness had read for me in the stars. and which the tall haptizer had en a definite form, seemed opening before mine eyes. Could 1 doubt it, while remembering the strange parable to which: T had just listened? In the fullnees of my heart I cried aloud: “I will trust in God and abide the time of the Master.” 1L The cheeks of my beloved wife had paled somewhat during my long absence, She lacked not faith, but anxious specu- lation hath ever been a common thing with women, to which, T am persuaded, théy often give themselves up to as a positive pleasure. But present love and the great hope for the future, which my strange story aroused within her, soon caused the palior to give place to roses as rich and rare as ever bloomed between the hills of Judea and Samaria, in the beautiful plain of Sharon. The third day after my return, as I was helping Simeon and his two servants set up the wine press in his little vin yard, for the vintage season was fast ap- prqflchlng, my wife came running unto us. “A stranger hath come to the house, asking for thee,” she said, a bright light shining in her eyes. A great hope swelled within my breast as I threw down the adz I had been us- ing and quickly followed her. Had the Master come for me? Undeserving as I was of such an honor, it seemed not :g- together beyond reason. I asked no ques- tions, but hurried with her to the village. As we approached the house a man arose from the bench beneath the vine-covered fig tree—the typical accompaniment of the Jewish home—that grew before it. I experienced a feeling of intense dis- appointment when I saw that it was not Jesus ben Eli who awaited me, which was followed quickly by one of shame that I had presumed to expect such an honor. The stranger was young, surely not older than myself, and of rather slight build. I instantly noticed that his features, though less noble and refined, bore a marked resemblance to those of the Naz- arene, and divined that he was his kins- man, John, the son of Zebedre. “Peace be with thee” said man, as we drew near. “And with thee, brother,” I responded, while Mirfam bowed her white turbaned, veiled head, and passed into the house. “Art Judas of Kerioth?” “the young “The same,” I responded, motioning him to be seated. T come from the Master. He s at Capernaum, and would have h_with Zebedee, my father, told me where thee. I might find thee. I am called John.” “T will be ready to go against the time thou hast broken thy fast.” I set bread, meat and wine before John asked m{ loins and thrust beneath it my purse, ink horn and scroll. “I am P! for the service of the Master,” I repli “‘wherever that may take me. Have faith in him as thou hast in me, and be not alarmed though I do m;t for md"ttl;‘m}"‘t;\m man awaiti un e awaiting me, and we at once umfed upon our journey, which could not be covered in ‘a brisk walk of two hours. Several times I at- tempted to draw my companion into con- versation, but he answered me as briefly as possible, and maintained an almost sul- len silence. 5 “What hast thou done for the Master?” he asked suddenly, instead of answer- ing one of my numerous questions, as we were passing throush Bef da. “‘Nothing,” I responded, ‘“‘save to love and honor him.” ‘“Wherefore, then, thinkest thyself call- ed upon to rebuke those who follow him and enjoy his confidence? We of Galilee are not wont to receive reproof and coun- ‘sel from Judeans.” “If thou meanest what I saild te thy father,” I answered, “I spoke warningly to him because I heard the chief priests plotting against John, the son of Zach- arlas. I know the depth of their jealousy and the extent of their power, and fear evil may overtake the Master, whom I take to be the Messiah proclaimed by John,)whom I saw a few months back at Engedi.’ "Ang thinkest thou that the God vl,r oiuted heir to the throne of David will glde himself behind his mother's gar- ments, or creep under the household bushel? Hast a strange idea as to how thrones are won. How shall he come to his own If he proclaim not himself? "Twere kind of the chief priests to send a warning messenger among us, since they are not used to dote on Galilee, though some may think that they but serve their own ends. When the Master hath driven forth the Romans and ruleth in their stead, imaginest thou that the chief priest will be chosen from the Sad- ducees. who accept not the doctrine of a future life, neither respect the law they profess to believe?” John stopped in his walk and stood con- fronting me as he spoke. his eyes flash- ing with anger and his lips curling with contempt, 1 felt that he had some meas- ure of provceation and restrained the rage that was fast rising within me. “Qf a verity tHou wrong'st me, broth- er,'g! cried. “I have no sympathy with the chief priests and their doctrines, either prejudice against Galtee, where xllhave rgarncd a wife and where I ah'de with her. If I am nnrn-nemy’;_;r the Mas- ath he sent for me? tefi‘x'{:‘x‘%# ‘not, unless it be to warn thee, as thou hast prhesumed to admonish me, hrough my father.” D ltard'e: thou the parable that the Master spake at the seashore, three days back?" i “Oply through my brother and Simon and Andrew, my partners.’ “Let me tell thee the story of my life as we journey onward, that thou mayest judge whether it touched my heart and Whether I am, as thou impilest, one of Annas’ spies.” John made no reply, but sullenly re- sumed his walk. Keeping fast by his side J told my now oft-repeated story. The Jews possess no literature of a secu- lar nature, though that of the Greeks and Romans is read by a few men of learn- ing in the original tongues. Hence my story, abridged though it was, produced a profound impression upon my compan- ion, who, being of the common peop.e. knew next to nothing of Rome and the pagan world. That he belleved it was evident from his manner; doubtless the possibility of my being able to invent such a strange tale never crossed his mind. “I have wronged thee, brother, and I crave thy forgiveness,” said he, haltirg in his walk and extending his hand. “Thou hast reason to be glad, for thou Last surely found favor in the eyes of the Master. Let us be friends.” ¢ The look of mingied anger and suspl- cion had_quite vanished from the face of John and one of confidence and pleasure had taken its place. More than before, [ now saw in it a likeness to the Maste: and felt drawn toward him as a brother. At the same time I rea'ized that the story of my life bad raised what might prove to be a barrier between us, since it indi- cated my superior position in life and greater attainments. 1 hastened to ex: press the pleasure I felt in cali’ng him my friend and we resumed our walk. As we entered the principal street, of Capernaum, shortly after we had shaken hands as a pledge of future friendship, we sa.- a throng in front of the syna- gogue—for it was the second day of the week and the building was open. While we stood looking we heard a loud com- motion within, and presently there issued forth a demoniac, who was tearing his raiment and fcaming at the mouth, which actions jndicated, according to the ideas of the Jews, that a most flerce and un- clean demon had possession of him. While we looked a number of pecple, among them the Master whom we souzht, came forth from the synagogue. Seeing him the demoniac, moved appar- cntly by the devil that controlled him, cried aloud: “Let us alone; what have we to du with thee. thou Jesus of Nazareth? Art thou come hither to destroy us? 1 know thee who thou art. the holy one of God!” Then the Master advanced quickly to- ward him and sa.d, very sterniy: “Hold thy peace and come out of him.” With this the devil appeared to struggle with the man and threw him heavily to the ground, after which he departed out of him and the man aroie and seemed in complete control of hi In the meantime am; < ing almost to utter bewilderment, swept through the crowd. For a moment there was an awed silence, then came the mur- mur of voices, which inereased in volume until it became almost a clamor. showed disapproval, but all marve the authority and power of the M over the unclean spirit. In all the multitude, made up though it was for the most part of ignorant peu I doubt if there was one more overcome, more utterly bewildered, than I, who had studied in Alexandria and seen the won- ders of Rome. 1 believed what Zebedee and Jora had told me touching the chunging of water into wine at Cana, but that appealed to me like a wonder from the Torah, as something that. happened in remote times and at a disiance, while T now stocd face to face with a faet that could not be gainsaid and which pos- sessed the force of a living truth. Be- sides, the simple people of Galilee liye in a world of wonders. If rain falls*in a season of drought it is a miracle, cr at least a special providence, a direct an- swer to prayer., If the people pray in vain and the grass withers, it is a judg- ment upon them for their sins—in fine, things that happen in the usual and or- derly course of nature are aseribed to the direct and special intervention of the Almighty. Honest themselves, they are easily imposed upon by designing persons. while their love of the wonderful leads them, quite innocently, to magnify and distort the most natural and ordinary events of life, As for myself, 1 had studied the phi- losophy of the Greeks, had become fa- miliar with the laws of nature, so far as they have been fathomed by man. 1 had seen the cleverest jugglers. the most mystifying magicians and enchanters of Egypt and the East and was quite proof against the tricks of knaves and the self- tm{)cmed delusions of overweening cre- dulity and conceit. Hence my amazement at the wonderful work of mercy per- formed by the Master was doubtless greater than that of any one of the hun- dreds of others who witnessed it. With a feeling of indignation in my heart T stood watching the late possessed person as he hurried away from the spot without_even thanking the great Healer who had restored him to himself, when a hand was laid gently upon my shoulder. A thrill, such as I had felt three days be- fore at the seashore, shot through my At that moment the low, sooth- ing volce of the Master addressed me “Thinkest thou that Joseph, thy friend, will so forget him who hath made him whole?"” | As I turned quickly I saw a smile upon his lips. That it meant not levity, but was provoked by the expression of ex- travagant joy that must have beamed in my face, was attested by the steady, though mild and beneficent look in his deep blue eyes. “Not. so, Master,” I replied. “I, who know his heart, will vouch for the love and service of him whom absence and in- firmity prevents from speaking for him- ““It is well. I came hither to ask thee and some others to be my disciples, though mine hour hath not yet come. ‘Wilt follow me?” “To the furthermost ends of the carth, Master,” I replied fervently, tearfuily. To nl:( eyes, at thl!t momagt, was not a ing preparing to ascend a rone, nor yet the Bol;r;ene of God, as the de- meniac had called him, but a simple, lov- ing man who had completely won my heart. “Not er 7" Al:alnng:? smile, saddened someliow, T thought now, settled upon his lips; again etral and loving, oD, mem g ot g # 'gan-:‘rmt:te I ’ red, “and to 0 5 ‘whispered, the resurrection beyond it.” “It 1s thy end. The 1 go up to Jerusalem, haste, teu:hln{ 'what by the way, for w“tthl“., ‘I should appear in many cities. ear me eompany, Judas, with others? The Holy City is the center rather than the ends of the earth, though none the less it abounds in pitfalls and dangers.” .God for our Father. “I go with thee, Lord,” was my reply. “Return now to thy home; inform thy wife and Krupm thyself for the journey, will begin early on the morrow. ot, Judas, for I have need of thee.” Fail not! Do the sun, moon and_tides fail to rise at their appointed times? Fail not! Does the mother faii to love her off- spring, the drowning man to struggle for life, the starveling to devour proffered food? Fail not! Could I fail to utterly yield to the strongest influence I had ever en- countered, an influence as irresistible as are the forces of nature? Admiration, gratitude, wonder, hope, love—these, When all combined, could not account for the feelings 1 entertained toward this strange personnf, before whose supe‘ human powers disease and devils fled, and whose lightest word drew unto him the hearts of men. Irrational and illogi- cal as it seemed, my faith far exceeded my knowledge, my love comfletely out- stripped my understanding. could not, would not, fail. IIL About the noon hour the following day we reached a village near the Jordau, having left the sea of Galliee behind us. There I entered a shop and pur- chased a supply of food. When the Lord had blessed, broken and distributed the bread and meat and we had eaten, he #aid unto us: “We are now as one family, having We must help one ancther as becometh bre-hren; thus will our strength be increased sevenfold. We must be good bankers, prudent in our business. What money have we amongst us?” “I have twelve shekels of silyer and two zuzim, Lord,” said Peter, telling the coins over and piacing them in the hands of the Master. e “I have six shekels and three zuzim, announced Philip, imitating the example of Peter. One after another my six companions d their purses and lianded the con- nts to the Master. the total possessed by the six aggregating nearly fifty shek- eis of silver. 1 had drawn my purse from my girdle and was about to add its con- tents to the pile of coin upon the grass where the Lord was reclining, when he stopped me with a motion of his hand and began to speak: “We possess not a large sum, yvet we are going among friends. For myself, T have nothing: not even a purse or a serip in which to put what we have. Therefore 1 appoint Judas, who knoweth the world better than any of you, to carry the purse and bear what is put within it.”” So speaking, he gathered up the coins, rose to his feet and vlaced them in my purse, filling it almost to its utmost ca- pacity. I thought I noted a look of an- noyance upon two or three faces, but it passed quickly, so great and universal was the love for the Master. I was pleased, almest beyend expression, by this mark of confidence, the more so be- cause I saw in the action something that was not apparent to the others. 1 had cf mine own more than double the com- bined money contributed by a.l the oth- ers. my purse containing a number of golden ‘shekels. Had I been permitted to tell it over and announce its value, as the others had done, it would have made their offerings appear insignificant in comparison and have wounded their pride —an important ingredient in the up of every man—if it had not aroused ac- tual jealousy. That the Master read the minds and hearts of all of us, when it so pleased him, I did not dcubt. He surely knew that I divined his motive; knew that T was more pleased than if I had been permitted to make a dispiay of my wealth and generesiiy. ‘The custc of that purse filled me with far greater joy than I had ever experi- enced when the possessor of millions in Rome, for every coin of gold, silver and copper that it contained was, to my eyes, stamped, not with the words “Holy Jeru- salem” or the image of the ruler of the Kingdom of Power, Tiberius Caesar, but with the words: “Thou art worthy to be my disciple,” and the image of Jesus of Nazareth, the divinely appointed repre- sentative of the Kingdom of Heaven. Our journey to Jerusalem occupied a number of days. We stopped in every eity and vi.lage, except while passing threugh Samaria, the Master on all oe- casions proclaiming, as John had done before him, that the Kingdom of Heaven was at hand. On the Sabbath, and on other days when there were gatherings In the synagogues, he entered into them, expounded the Law and exhorted the pecple to repentance. His fame had gone before us and we everywhere encountered crowds of people. Of these, some gath- e they yearned for divine truth, more to te healed of disease and a still greater number to gratify their love of the marvelous by wiinessing the won- derful works of the Master. But all, or nearly all, were likew curious to see the man whom rumor reported—for the Lord taught no such doctrine—was to re- a Israel from the oppressive rule of Romans. spoke of himself as the . a phrase that is quite famil- jar to ali readers of the scriptures, pearing as it dces prominently in Psalms of David and the books of Daniel nd Ezekiel. He ever spoke of God as a kind, loving Father, more ready to for- give than his children were to ask for- giveness. His teachings wi in no wise controverted the imparted to it a life and spirit that were at once astorish- ing and refreshing, though he urged no doctrine that could justly be called new. To those who asked for signs and won- ders he turned a deaf ear or refused them, and that sometimes in a voice and manner that contrasted stron: with his usually mild and loving bearing. In this 1 was reminded of the first impression I had formed of him. But, though he al- ways declined to exercise his miraculous powers for the entertainment, or even conviction, of the people, he was ever ready to relieve the sufferings of those *hat manifested faith, casting out devils and healing many of infirmities. It is this brecad humanity, this sympd- thy with his feliows, rather than the wonderful works he hath shown, that accounts for the large number of disel- ples who acknowledge his authority and follow him from place to place. Isaiah, Jeremiah and Ezekiel, with many others of the olden time, were mighty prophets, most eloquent preachers and godly men, yet they excited not among the people the love that now goeth forth after the son.cof the humble carpenter of despised Nazareth. Without the slightest levity—for he never laughs and seldom smiles, unless through sympathy—without manifesting those outward signs of good-fellowship so easily and so frequently simulated, yet without the long face and self-righteous bearing of the extreme Pharisees, he en- tered at once the dcors and the hearts of the pecple. Was a father jubilant over the birth of a child, he rejoiced with him; was a mother bowed down with grief at the death of an only son, he wept with her, prayed with her and re- moved the sting of her loss by telling her of the eertainty of eternal life and the many bright and happy dwelling places in kis Father's glorious kingdom beyond the skies, the stars and the grave. None who have taiked with him can ever doubt the reality and glory of the life to come. Proceeding thus, it was many days be- fore we reached the Holy City, Once there, the Master continued his ministry, teaching in the streets, the synagogues and the houses of friends, but avoiding the Temple, where he went only for raver. He performed fewer works of ealing than he had on vur journey, and these, for the most part, in private, evi- dently not desiring to aftract to himself the atfention of the Sanhedrim. About this time a rumor spread through the city to the effect that John the son of Zacharias had been seized by the com- mand of Herod Ant:pas and imprisoned in the Casile of Macaerus. This was glee- fully repeated by many of the scribes and Pharisees with whem we came in con- tact, who applauded the tetratch for his wise and patriotic act. as they termed it. Indeed, some of them wert much further and predicted a like fate for the Lord and those who were identified with him. At first I did not believe the report as to the harsh action of Herod, whom I had thought to be a just and humane man. I chan; my mind, ver, when I heard that John had been imprisoned, not for proclaiming the coming of the Christ, but for denouncing as unlawtul Herod's marriage with Herodias, his brother’s wife. A wiesed and designing, if attractive, woman, whose hatred had been aroused, can drive even an amiable, if weak and doting man, to the commis- sion of almest any crime. One day I left my companions in the Temple and went to the hause of Joek I had seen the banker on the day of our ar- rival and learned tha. my father was not coming to the feast. I now wished to se- cure a su of money, for I felt that my office of asurer carried with it the duty of providing means for tI of our llmn community and hr” m.cu ?-Dfi':; of the poor. 1 received many contribu- les, it 1s true, but they Eregate belng at ‘that tme inconsides able. I had drawn fitiy shekels of lol". from Joel and was on my way vil- to _the lage of Bethany, just outside the city, whe! ed with friends of the Mas- er, am m & certain Lazarus and his sisters, Mary and Martha, when, in one of the narrow streets, I encountered Rabbi Samuel. “Art come to resume thy studies?” he *sked, after having greeted me kindly. “Not_at present, rabbi” I replied. *“I have married Miriam, the sister of Jo- seph Manasseh, of whom we spoke at our last meeting, and I am domiciled in Gall- “‘Hast another teacher, T am told: one who respects net the Sabbath day and wha hath a better doctrine than is found in the law and the prophets.” "I have indeed found a new teacher, rabbi; one who shows the path to heaven by walking i jt himself. not peinting it out from a distance. He hath healed a man on the Sabbath day and, so far from denying it, maintains that no day is too sacred for an act of mercy and charity.” “That is well: but who is to decide what constitutes a work of mercy? Who isethis man who assumes the position of a judge of the law? Fath he a_divine commission tc Instruct the people?” “Not the people only, but the doctors. He is the Messiah, whose coming was announced by John, the son of Zacharias. He it is who shall redeem and rule over Israel.” He who is thoroughly in earmest and manifestly sincere commands a certain re- spect and makes a decided impression upon almost any auditor. A look of in- tense interest came into the face of Rabbl Samuel, and he advanced a step nearer to me. “Thou were ever gifted beyond thy years, Judas,” he said. “Thou knowest the law better than some rabbins and hast traveled and learned to judge men. Hath he the power to work miracles?" “Beyond a doubt: I have been a wit- ness to many of them and can set no limit to his _ability.” “It may be so; Judas Maccabeus ac- complished wonders, and without - that gift. Thinkest thou that he can subdue and drive out the Romans?” “He hath already done a harder thing, rabbi; he hath subdued himself, hath driven the very thoughts of evil from his heart, and iiveth a blameless, sinless life. How else could he cast out devils, cause the dumb to speak and the lame to dance? Come and see him.” “Not now. That were a grave step, and one that must be well considered. He hath been discussed by the Sanhedrim, and_opinions differ touchiv him. Hath be _declared that he is the Messiah?" “Not in words, but his life, his won- derful works—the exact fulfliiment of the Scriptures—above all, his matchless teach- ings, put the matter beyond all question. none other than the Chris: eople go out after him? “In multitudes. He carrieth them with him as the wind carrieth the dust from the threshing floor. His preaching, his person, his power—all these combine to draw the people unto him.” “But that God should pass over all the great familles of the land, with their pure blood and proud lineages, and select, to ascend the long vacant throne of Da- vid, an obscure peasant of Nazareth— why, man, it is altogether out of the question!” “As I remember the Scriptures, David was the son of a shepherd, and the young- est son, at that; yet did he become, next only to Abraham, the greatest of _all Jews, a model for all men unto this loz. Hath God lost wisdom, or power, of good- ness by the lapse of a paltry thousand ears?” "‘I will consider this matter, Judas. If 1 see thee not sdoner, seek me out when thou comest up to the city to keep the next Passover. I stand close to Annas, closer than any save Calaphas, and can influence him greatly. It may be that this Jesus of Nazareth Is the Messiah; if so the Sanhedrim must determine and proclaim the fact, and I will be the ons, to start the movement. I will see thy new teacher when he is next in the Holy City. Farewell; peace be with thee,” As Rabbl Samuel walked away I stood watching him with a swelling heart. That thes statements and judgments I had so vigorously set forth had produced an im- pression upon the gteat doctor was be- ond question. In common with all Jews, xa belfeved that the time for the com~ ing of the Messiah was at hand, and evi- dently thought that my opinion might prove to be correct, and Jesus of Naza- reth turn out to be the Christ so ardent- 1y hoped for. Onece convinced of this. he would. I thought, seek to in the Mas- ter’s favor by espousing his cause and forcing his récognition upon the Sanhe- drim. And yet, I saw a contingency, even if it came to this; the rule propesed by the Master might fail to satisfy the am- bitious aspirations of the rabbl and his powerful party. Nor was I at all dismayed at the hard and selfish character of this great doc- tor, which none understdod better than myself. I had experienced the marvelous power of him who modestly styled him- self the Son of Man, thus strongly iden- tifying himself with his fellows, and be- leved that the stony heart of the aspir- ing rabbi would yleld before it and that he who was now virtually an enemy would become transformed into a zeal- ous and powerful friend. No ome can hope to see a king upon the throne of Israel who receives not the support of the Sanhedrim and the powerful presi- dent who directs its policy. Thus far the disciples of the Lord had been chiefly confined to those in the lower walks of life, whose sole strength their fervor and their numbers. Wha wonder that my heart swelled as T con- templated the prospect of winning the support of the great Sanhedrim. T now kn~w that I had not them, have not yet, I sadly fear, quite left behind me the world into which I was born in the process of nature, for before my haif dreamy mind that day arose a plcture of the Master proclaiming the joys of the new_birth, not from a fisherman's boat on Lake Galilee nor before the reading desk in a village synagogue, but from the re-ostablished temporal throne of David, beside which I stood as one of his ap- pointed and most highly favored minis- ters. 1 pray God that I may not forget that I am but a weak and sinful man. Iv. “Thou art {ll, Judas; our long journey hath wearied thee. Give Pster money from thy purse and let him and the oth- ers go into the city to buy food while thou liest at rest under the shade of yon- der tree, for the sun is now warm.”™ Since that eventful day at Capernaum, when I had hecome a meost willing dis- ciple of the Master, I had thousand proofs of his goodness and love, of which this was but a fair sample. I had been ailing somewhat for two days, though I had uttered no complaint, not really considering myself what could be termed sick. I readily obeyed his orders, and lay upon the grass watching the di- minishing forms of my seven comrades. 1 say seven, because new diseiple, Si- mon, called Zelotes, had east his fortunes with the Master while we were in rusalem. Simon had earned the Zelotes from having been in a member of that fanatical Jewish ty called the Zealots, which for m.% five and twenty years hath been in most constant revolt against the author- ity of the Romans, and also from the great zeal he had later manifested as a& disciple of John the Baptist. ‘We were passing through hated and de- spised Samaria and had halted at the noon hour beside the well, dug of old by the patriarch Jaceob for the watering of his herds and flocks. My seven com- panions had gone to l'e:hlunf no great distance away. When their forms were finally lost to view I turned and look: at the Master, who was seated upon (fi stone coping of the well which the Sa- maritans regard as one of their most pre- cious possessions. He sat in an attitude of rdenocuon. his chin resting upon his and. tl‘vhn.t great and holy thoughts were assing through his marvelous, all-know- ng mind? The query interested me in- tensely and, while T could not know, I felt that I could almost conjecturs some- thing of their nature, since no spot all Palestine is so suggestive to a pat rigtic and pious Jew. It was gn:‘r‘e t}xat tl!!: Jewish Ql:;?‘ll ‘had its very inning. was near s spot that Abraham, when he left Damascus we 1 consisted in t R e Alm! \ w:litl len Caynun. lnd'fi‘m that he bull.ldlh‘(ho flr'tk l.lLlrf u'g.m“ the as- oke o fir Sirered rship. to the one bo ‘it a parcel of a a -p:e‘ad his_tent, at the dren of Hamor, Schecl an hundred