The Prince of the
House of David

By

Rev J. H. Ingraham

DAVID C. COOK Publishing Co.
36 WASHINGTON ST. CHICAGO ELGIN ILL

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[The Prince of the House of David.]

By REV. J. H. INGRAHAM.

Copyright, 1898, by David C. Cook Publishing Company.

David C. Cook Publishing Company, Elgin, Ill., and 36 Washington St., Chicago.

[CONTENTS]

[PREFACE.]
[LETTER I.]
[LETTER II.]
[LETTER III.]
[LETTER IV.]
[LETTER V.]
[LETTER VI.]
[LETTER VII.]
[LETTER VIII.]
[LETTER IX.]
[LETTER X.]
[LETTER XI.]
[LETTER XII.]
[LETTER XIII.]
[LETTER XIV.]
[LETTER XV.]
[LETTER XVI.]
[LETTER XVII.]
[LETTER XVIII.]
[LETTER XIX.]
[LETTER XX.]
[LETTER XXI.]
[LETTER XXII.]
[LETTER XXIII.]
[LETTER XXIV.]
[LETTER XXV.]
[LETTER XXVI.]
[LETTER XXVII.]
[LETTER XXVIII.]
[LETTER XXIX.]
[LETTER XXX.]
[LETTER XXXI.]
[LETTER XXXII.]
[LETTER XXXIII.]
[LETTER XXXIV.]
[LETTER XXXV.]
[LETTER XXXVI.]
[LETTER XXXVII.]
[LETTER XXXVIII.]
[LETTER XXXIX.]

[PREFACE.]

The "Prince of the House of David," written by Rev. Mr. Ingraham, needs no recommendation. Its fame has been, long since, established, and its fascination has already held sway over multitudes of delighted readers. Recognizing fully its merits, the publishers of this edition decided to put it in the way of a still greater circulation; and in order to facilitate this, it has been thoroughly revised and in parts re-written, all unnecessary repetition appearing in the original edition of the book being omitted.

Adina, the suppositious writer of the following letters, is the daughter of a Jew who resides in Alexandria, Egypt. She has come to Jerusalem during the most stirring period of earth's history, and, from thence, for the period of three years, she keeps her father apprized of the marvelous events occurring about her during that time.

THE PUBLISHERS.

[LETTERS FROM ADINA.]

[LETTER I.]

My Dear Father:

My first duty, as it is my highest pleasure, is to comply with your command to write you as soon as I should arrive at Jerusalem, and this letter, while it conveys intelligence of my arrival, will confirm to you my filial obedience.

My journey hither occupied many days. When we traveled in sight of the sea, which we did for three days, I enjoyed the majesty of the prospect, it seemed so like the sky stretched out upon the earth. I also had the good fortune to see several ships, which the Rabbi informed me were Roman galleys, bound some to Sidon, and others into the Nile; and after one of these latter, as it was going to you, I sent a prayer and a wish. Just as we were leaving the sea-shore to turn off into the desert, I saw a wrecked vessel. It looked so helpless and bulky, with its huge black body all out of the water, that it seemed to me like a great sea-monster, stranded and dying; and I felt like pitying it. How terrible a tempest must be upon the sea! I was in hopes to have seen a Leviathan, but was not gratified in the wish. The good Rabbi, who seemed to know all about these things, told me that they seldom appear now in the Middle Sea, but are seen beyond the pillar of Hercules at the world's end.

At Gaza we stopped two days, and from thence we proceeded over-land to our destination.

The morning of the last day of our journey but one, having lost our way and wandered many hours eastwardly, we caught sight of the Sea of Sodom and Gomorrah, at a great distance to the east. How my pulse quickened at beholding that fearful spot! I seemed to see in imagination the heavens on fire above it, and the flames and smoke ascending as from a great furnace, as on that fearful day when they were destroyed, with all that beautiful surrounding plain, which we are told was one vast garden of beauty. How calm and still lay now that sluggish sea beneath a cloudless sky! We held it in sight many hours, and once caught a glimpse of the Jordan north of it, looking like a silver thread; yet near as it appeared to be, I was told it was a good day's journey for a camel to reach its shores.

After losing sight of this melancholy lake, our way lay along a narrow valley for some time, and the next day, on reaching an eminence, Jerusalem appeared, as if risen out of the earth.

I cannot, my dear father, describe to you my emotions on beholding the Holy City! They have been experienced by millions of our people—they were similar to your own as you related them to me. All the past, with its mighty men who walked with Jehovah, rushed to my memory, and compelled me to bow my head, and worship and adore at the sight of the Temple, where God once (alas, why does he no longer visit earth and his holy house?) dwelt in the flaming Shechinah, and made known the oracles of his will.

We entered the city just before the sixth hour of the evening, and were soon at the house of our relative, Amos, the Levite. I was received as if I had a daughter's claim to their embraces; and with the luxuries with which they surrounded me in my gorgeously furnished apartments. I am sure my kinsfolk here mean to tempt me to forget the joys of the dear home I have left.

The Rabbi Amos and his family all desire to be commended to you. He seems to be a man of piety and benevolence, and greatly loves his children. I have been once to the Temple. Its outer court seemed like a vast caravanserai or market-place, being thronged with the men who sell animals for sacrifice, which crowded all parts. Thousands of doves in large cages were sold on one side, and on another were stalls for lambs, sheep, calves and oxen, the noise and bleating of which, with the confusion of tongues, made the place appear like anything else than the Temple of Jehovah. It appears like desecration to use the Temple thus, dear father, and seems to show a want of that holy love of God's house that once characterized our ancestors. On reaching the women's court I was sensible of being in the Temple, by the magnificence which surrounded me. With what awe I bowed my head in the direction of the Holy of Holies! I never felt before so near to God! Clouds of incense floated above the heads of the multitude, and rivers of blood flowed down the marble steps of the altar of burnt offering. Alas! how many innocent victims bleed every morning and evening for the sins of Israel! What a sea of blood has been poured out in ages that have passed! What a strange, fearful mystery, that the blood of an innocent lamb should atone for sins I have done! There must be some deeper meaning in these sacrifices, dear father, yet unrevealed to us.

As I was returning from the Temple I met many persons, who seemed to be crowding out of the gate on some unusual errand. I have since learned that they were going to see a very extraordinary man—a true prophet of God, it is believed by many, who dwells in the wilderness eastward near Jordan, and who preaches with power unknown in the land since the days of Elijah and Elisha. I hope he is a true prophet of heaven, and that God is once more about to remember Israel, but the days of the Prophets have long passed away, and I fear this man is only an enthusiast.

Farewell, dear father, and let us ever pray for the glory of Israel.

Your affectionate,

Adina.

[LETTER II.]

My Dear Father:

The street in which we dwell is elevated, and from the roof of the house, where I love to walk in the evening, watching the stars that hang over Egypt, there is commanded a wide prospect of the Holy City.

Yesterday morning I was early on the house-top, to behold the first cloud of the day-dawn sacrifice rise from the bosom of the Temple. When I had turned my gaze towards the sacred summit, I was awed by the profound silence which reigned over the vast pile that crowned Mount Moriah. The sun was not yet risen; but the east blushed with a roseate purple, and the morning star was melting into its depth. Night and silence still held united empire over the city and the altar of God. I was awe-silent. I stood with my hands crossed upon my bosom and my head reverently bowed, for in the absence of man and his voice I believed angels were all around in heavenly hosts, the guardian armies of this wondrous city of David. Lances of light now shot upward and across the purple sea in the East, and fleeces of clouds, that reposed upon it like barks, catching the red rays of the yet unrisen sun, blazed like burning ships. Each moment the darkness fled, and the splendor of the dawn increased; and when I expected to see the sun appear over the battlemented heights of Mount Moriah, I was thrilled by the startling peal of the trumpets of the priests; a thousand silver trumpets blown at once from the walls of the Temple, and shaking the very foundations of the city with their mighty voice. Instantly the house-tops everywhere around were alive with worshipers. Jerusalem started, as one man, from its slumbers, and, with their faces towards the Temple, a hundred thousand men of Israel stood waiting. A second trumpet peal, clear and musical as the voice of God when he spake to our father Moses in Horeb, caused every knee to bend, and every tongue to join in the morning song of praise. The murmur of voices was like the continuous roll of the surge upon the beach, and the walls of the lofty Temple echoed it back. Simultaneously with the billow-like swell of the adoring hymn, I beheld a pillar of black smoke ascend from the midst of the Temple, and spread itself above the court like a canopy. It was accompanied by a blue wreath of lighter and more misty appearance, which threaded in and out and entwined about the other, like a silvery strand woven into a sable cord. This latter was the smoke of the incense which accompanied the burnt sacrifice. As I saw it rise higher and higher, and finally overtop the heavy cloud, which was instantly enlarged by volumes of dense smoke that rolled upward from the consuming victim, and slowly disappeared, melting into heaven, I also kneeled, remembering that on the wings of the incense went up the prayers of the people; and ere it dissolved wholly, I entrusted to it, dear father, prayers for thee and me.

The evening sacrifice is, if possible, more imposing than that of the morning. Just as the sun dips beyond the hill of Gibeah, there is heard a prolonged note of a trumpet blown from one of the western watch-towers of Zion. Its mellow tones reach farthest ear within the gates of the city. All labor at once ceases. Every man raises his face towards the summit of the house of God. A deep pause, as if all held their breath in expectation, succeeds. Suddenly the very skies seem to be riven and shaken with the thunder of the company of trumpeters that rolls wave on wave of sound, from the battlements of the Temple. The dark cloud of sacrifice ascends in solemn grandeur, and, sometimes heavier than the evening air, falls like a descending curtain around the Mount, till the whole is veiled from sight; but above it is seen to soar the purer incense to the invisible Jehovah, followed by a myriad eyes, and the utterance of a nation's prayers. As the daylight faded, the light of the altar, hidden from us by the lofty walls of the outer court of the Temple, blazed high and beacon-like, and lent a wild solemnity to the towers and pinnacles that crowned Moriah.

There was, however, my dear father, last evening, one thing which painfully marred the holy character of the sacred hour. After the blast of the silver trumpets of the Levites had ceased, and while all hearts and eyes were ascending to Jehovah with the mounting wreaths of incense, there came from the Roman castle adjoining the city of David, a loud martial clangor of brazen bugles, and other barbarian war instruments of music, while a smoke, like the smoke of sacrifice, rose from the heights of David's fortified hill. I was told that it was the Romans engaged in worshiping Jupiter. Alas! How truly now are the prophecies fulfilled, which are to be found in the Lamentations: "The Lord hath cast off his altar, he hath given up into the hands of the enemy the walls of her palaces: they have made a noise in the house of the Lord, as in the day of a solemn feast." For these things I weep, my dear father.

Nearly three hundred years have passed since we have had a prophet—that divine and youthful Malachi. Since his day, Rabbi Amos confesses that Jehovah has made no sign of having heard the prayers or heeded the sacrifices that have been offered to him in his time. I inquired of the intelligent Rabbi if it would always be thus. He replied that when Shiloh came, there would be a restoration of all things—that the glory of Jerusalem then would fill the whole earth with the splendor of the sun, and that all nations should come up from the ends of the world to worship in the Temple.

My conversation with Rabbi Amos, dear father, led me to examine the Book of the Prophet Malachi. I find that after plainly alluding to our present shame, and reproaching the priests "for causing the people to stumble," he thus prophesies: "Behold, I will send my messenger, and he shall prepare the way before me; and the Lord whom ye seek shall suddenly come to his Temple, and he shall sit as a refiner and purifier of silver, and he shall purify the sons of Levi, and purge them as gold and silver, that they may offer unto the Lord an offering in righteousness. Behold," adds the divine seer, "I will send you Elijah the prophet before the coming of the great and dreadful day of the Lord."

These words I read to-day to Rabbi Amos—indeed I was reading them when Rabbi Ben Israel came in to say that he departs to-morrow. The excellent Amos looked grave. I feared I had offended him by my boldness, and, approaching him, was about to embrace him, when I saw tears were sparkling in his eyes. He took my hand, and smiling, while a glittering drop danced down his snow-white beard and broke into liquid diamonds upon my hand, he said, "You have done no wrong, child; sit down by me and be at peace with thyself. It is too true, in this day, what the Prophet Malachi writeth, O Ben Israel," he said sadly to the Alexandrian Rabbi. "The priests of the Temple have indeed become corrupt, save a few here and there. It must have been at this day the prophet aimed his words. Save in the outward form, I fear the great body of our Levites have little more true religion and just knowledge of the one God Jehovah, than the priests of the Roman idolatry. Alas, I fear me, God regards our sacrifices with no more favor than he looks upon theirs. To-day, while I was in the Temple, and was serving at the altar with the priests, these words of Isaiah came into my thoughts and would not be put aside: 'To what purpose is the multitude of your sacrifices unto me? saith the Lord. I am full of the burnt offerings of rams, and the fat of fed beasts; and I delight not in the blood of bullocks, or of lambs, or of he-goats. Bring no more vain oblations; incense is an abomination unto me; I am weary to bear them; yea, when ye spread forth your hands I will hide mine eyes from you; yea, when ye make many prayers I will not hear; your hands are full of blood. Wash you; make you clean. Cease to do evil; learn to do well.'"

"I have noticed," said Ben Israel, "that there is less reverence now in the Temple than when I was in Jerusalem a young man; but I find that the magnificence of the ceremonies is increased."

"Yes," responded Rabbi Amos, with a look of sorrow, "yes, as the soul of piety dies out from within, they gild the outside. The increased richness of the worship is copied from the Romans. So low are we fallen! Our worship, with all its gorgeousness, is as a sepulchre white-washed to conceal the rottenness within!"

You may be convinced, my dear father, that this confession, from such a source, deeply humbled me. If, then, we are not worshiping God, what do we worship? Naught! We are worse off than our barbarian conquerors, for we have no God; while they at least have gods many and lords many, such as they are.

Since writing the last line I have been interrupted by Mary, who has brought to see me a youth, nephew of a noble Jewish ruler, who was slain by the Romans for his patriotic devotion to his country. He dwells near the Gaza gate, with his widowed mother, who is a noble lady, honored by all. Between this young man, whose name is John, and Mary, there exists a beautiful attachment, which is each day ripening into the deepest emotion. He has just returned from the vicinity of Jericho, where he has been for some days past, drawn thither by curiosity to see and hear the new prophet, who is drawing thousands into the wilderness, to listen to the eloquence that flows from his mouth. The young man had been giving Mary so interesting an account of him that she desired me also to be a listener. In my next I will write you all I heard.

Your affectionate and devoted daughter,

Adina.

[LETTER III.]

My Dear Father:

This morning, as I was coming from the Temple, I noticed a vast pile of edifices crowning the opposite rock, which I was told was the Tower of Antonia. It seemed to frown sternly upon the Temple; and upon its battlements glittered, at intervals, numerous Roman eagles. I had so often heard you relate historical events connected with this celebrated castle, that I regarded it with peculiar interest. You seemed to stand by my side as I gazed upon it. The insolence and power of the Roman garrison have made the beautiful walk about the base of the tower almost deserted; but of this I was not aware; and, attended only by my Ethiopian slave, Onia, I lingered to admire the splendor of the cloister once surrounding the treasure-house of the Temple, with its terraces supported by white marble pillars, fifteen cubits high, when two Roman soldiers approached. It was then that I saw I was alone. I drew my veil closely, and would have passed them rapidly, when one of them placed himself in my path, and catching hold of my veil, tried to detain me. I left it in his grasp and was flying, when the other soldier arrested me. This was in full view of the castle, and at my shrieks the barbarians in the castle laughed aloud. At this crisis appeared a young centurion, who was on horseback, coming down the rocky path that ascends the Rock of Zion, and shouting to them, he galloped forward, and with his sword put the men to immediate flight and rescued me. In order to escort me safely to the streets below, he alighted from his horse, and leading him by the rein, walked by my side. I confess to you, dear father, I had not reached the house of my relative before my prejudices against the Romans were greatly modified. I had found in one of them as courteous a person as I had ever met with among my own countrymen, and for his sake I was willing to think better of his barbaric land and people.

While I was writing the above, a commotion without drew me to the lattice, which overlooks the street that goes out of the gate to Bethany, one of the most frequented thoroughfares in the city. The sight that met my eyes was truly imposing, but made my heart sink with shame. It was a pageant, with banners, eagles, trumpets and gilded chariots, but not the pageant of a king of Israel, like those which dazzled the streets of Jerusalem in the days of Solomon and King David; not the triumphant passage of an Israelitish prince, but of the Roman governor. Preceded by a cohort of horse, he rode in a gilded war-chariot, lolling at his ease beneath a silken shade of blue silk, fringed with gold. The horses were snowy-white, and covered with silver mail, and adorned with plumes. He was followed by another body of cavalry, and at the head of them, looking more like a ruler and prince than did the indolent Pilate, I beheld the generous centurion who had aided my escape from the two soldiers. His eye sought the lattice at which I stood, and I drew back, but not before he had seen me and saluted me. Certainly, father, this youth is noble and courteous enough to be a Jew, and should any providence cause us to meet again, I shall try to convert him from his idolatry to serve the living Jehovah.

You will remember, dear father, that I alluded to an excitement that is increasing every day, in reference to a new prophet, who is preaching in the wilderness of Jericho. For three weeks past several parties of citizens have been to the valley of Jordan to see and hear him, and have so far been carried away by him as to have been baptized of him in Jordan, confessing their sins. Among them is John, the cousin and betrothed of Mary. Upon his return we saw that his countenance was animated beyond its wont, for he is usually of a sad and gentle aspect, and that his fine eyes beamed with an ardent hope, that seemed new-born to his soul. He thus recounted to us his visit to the prophet of Jordan:

"After leaving the gate of the city I soon reached the pretty town of Bethpage, where, at the inn, I beheld several horsemen just mounting, to go in the direction of Jericho. On joining the cavalcade, I learned they were for the most part drawn out of Jerusalem on the same errand with myself. One of them, a wealthy young noble of Arimathea, was actuated by the same holy desire that burned in my bosom, a desire that we might, in the prophet who was called John, discover a man sent from God. The others were bent on commerce, on pleasure, or mere idle curiosity. As Joseph of Arimathea and I rode together, we conversed about the man we expected to see. My companion seemed to believe that he was a true prophet, for being very well read in the Scriptures, he said that the seventy weeks of Daniel were now about completed, when the Messiah was to come! I then asked him if he believed that the Messiah, who was to be a 'Prince and king and have dominion from the sea to the ends of the earth,' would come in the wilderness, clad in the skin of wild beasts? To this he replied that he could not regard this prophet as the Messiah, for when the Christ should come, he was 'suddenly to come to the Temple,' and that we should doubtless first see him there; but that he was greatly in hopes that the prophet we were going to see would prove to be the forerunner, foretold by Malachi.

"'Those who heard him,' said Joseph, as we rode into the village of Bethany, 'say that he publicly proclaims himself the forerunner of the Messiah. The opinion of the more ignorant who have listened to him, is that it is Elijah himself, returned to the earth. Others assert that it is Enoch come down from heaven, and not a few believe him to be Isaiah.'"

At this point of the narrative of the cousin of Mary, dear father, I will close this letter. In my next I will resume his narrative, for when I have given it to you wholly, I have many things to ask you to which it gives rise in my mind. May the blessing of the God of Israel be upon thee, my dearest father!

Adina.

[LETTER IV.]

My Dear Father:

I have had the pleasure to-day, not only of hearing from you, but of being assured of your continued welfare. The messages of parental affection contained in your letter are cherished in my heart.

You need not fear, my dear father, that I shall be carried away from the faith of Israel by any strange doctrines. I will take counsel by your wisdom, and be cautious how I venture in my inquiries upon sacred ground.

In my last letter I commenced giving you the narrative of John, with which I shall now proceed.

"Having passed out of the city of Jericho, my friend of Arimathea and myself crossed the plain toward Jordan. The morning was balmy; the sun made all nature glad. The dew reflected a myriad lesser suns, and the earth appeared strewn with diamonds. For a little way the road lay between fields of corn and gardens, but soon it crossed the open plain, on which were droves of wild asses, which lifted their small, spirited heads on our approach, eyed us with timid curiosity, and then bounded off to the wilderness southward with the speed of antelopes. As the great body of the people took their way obliquely across the plain, we knew the prophet must be in that direction. We at length found him on the banks of Jordan, below the landing and ford, which is opposite Jericho, on the great caravan road to Balbec.

"We drew near a dark mass of human beings which we had beheld afar off, assembled around a small eminence near the river. Upon it, raised a few cubits taller than their heads, stood a man upon whom all eyes were fixed, and to whose words every ear was attentive. His clear, rich, earnest tones had reached us as we approached, before we could distinguish what he said. He was a young man not above thirty, with a countenance such as the medallions of Egypt give to Joseph of our nation, once their prince. His hair was long, and wildly free about his neck; he wore a loose sack of camel's hair, and his right arm was naked to the shoulder. His attitude was as free and commanding as that of a Caucasian warrior, yet every gesture was gentle and graceful. With all his ringing and persuasive eloquence there was an air of the deepest humility upon his countenance, combined with an expression of the holiest enthusiasm. His theme was the Messiah.

"'Oh, Israel, return unto the Lord thy God, for thou hast fallen by thine iniquity,' he was saying as we came up, as if in continuation of what had gone before. 'Take with you words, and turn unto the Lord, and say unto him: Take away all iniquity, and receive us graciously. Behold, he cometh who will heal your backsliding, and will love you freely. And it shall come to pass that whosoever shall call on the name of the Lord shall be delivered, for beside him there is no Savior.'

"'Of whom speaketh the prophet these things?' asked one who stood near me.

"'Of Messiah—listen!' answered him a Scribe near, as if not pleased to have his attention interrupted by this side talk. 'His words are plain. Hear him.'

"'Blow ye the trumpet in Zion, for the day of the Lord cometh,' continued the prophet, in a voice like that of a silver trumpet; 'for, behold, the day is at hand when I will bring again the captivity of Judah. Put ye in the sickle, for the harvest is ripe. The day is at hand when the Lord shall roar out of Zion and utter his voice from Jerusalem.'

"'Art thou not Elias?' asked one aloud.

"'I am he of whom it is written. The voice of one crying in the wilderness, make straight a highway for our God. The day of the Lord is at hand. I am but the herald who is sent before to prepare the way of the Lord.'

"'Art thou not the Messiah?' asked a woman who stood near him, and seemed to worship his very lips.

"'He who cometh after me is mightier than I, whose shoes I am not worthy to bear,' he responded, in an exultant tone, strangely at variance with his words. 'Therefore, repent ye, repent ye, take words and return unto the Lord our God. Repent and be baptized for the remission of your sins.' Then he added, turning to some of the priests, 'Behold, even now is the axe laid unto the root of the trees; every tree, therefore, that bringeth not forth good fruit is hewn down and cast into the fire.'

"'Master,' said a Levite, 'dost thou speak these things to us, who are of Israel, or to these Gentiles and Samaritans?' for there were not a few Roman soldiers among the multitude, drawn hither by curiosity, and also many people from Samaria.

"'Go and cry in the ears of Jerusalem, saith the Lord, for my people have committed two evils; they have forsaken me, the fountain of living waters, and hewn them out cisterns, broken cisterns, that can hold no water. And yet thou sayest, O Israel, thou hast not sinned. Thine own wickedness shall correct thee, and thy backsliding shall reprove thee. Repent and do works meet for repentance, every one of you, for ye have polluted the land; neither say, Where is the Lord that brought us up out of the land of Egypt? Trust not to lying words, saying, The Temple of the Lord, the Temple of the Lord, the Temple of the Lord! Ye have made it a den of robbers. Your sacrifices therein are become an abomination.'

"'This would touch us who are priests, master,' said a priest, with a crimson brow. 'We are not robbers.'

"'Thus saith the Lord,' answered the youthful prophet, as if it were God himself speaking from Horeb, so that we trembled: 'Woe be unto the pastors that destroy my sheep. How is the gold become dim! how is the most fine gold changed! The precious sons of Zion, comparable to fine gold, how are they esteemed? Woe unto you, ye priests, for ye have transgressed. My people have transgressed for lack of knowledge. Therefore doth the land mourn, and every one that dwelleth therein languisheth. Therefore do swearing and lying, and killing and stealing, and committing adultery, break out in the land, because there is no truth, nor mercy, nor knowledge of God in the land. Woe unto you, ye priests!'

"Many of the Levites then turned and left him and went away greatly murmuring; and they would gladly have done the prophet a mischief, but they feared the multitude, who said he had spoken only the truth of them.

"'But the elders of Israel, who are not priests, who spring from Abraham, shall be saved by Abraham, master?' asserted, or rather inquired, a rich ruler of our city, after the tumult caused by the withdrawal of the Levites had a little subsided. The youthful prophet rested his dark eyes, like two suns, upon the old man's face, and said impressively, 'Begin not to say within yourself, We have Abraham to our father; for I say unto you,' he added, pointing to the pebbles at his feet, 'that God is able of these stones to raise up children unto Abraham. He is of Abraham who doth righteousness; therefore repent, and bring forth fruits meet for repentance.'

"Here was heard some murmuring among a group of many Pharisees and Sadducees at these words, when, sending his lightning glance towards them, as if he could read their very hearts, he cried:

"'O generation of vipers! Who hath warned you to flee from the wrath to come? The day cometh when he who is to come shall sit as a purifier by his furnace. Bring forth, therefore, fruits meet for repentance. Turn thy heart from wickedness, that thou mayest be saved. Repent ye, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.

"'Hear, O Israel! Am I a God at hand and not a God afar off? saith the Lord. Hear ye the message of the Most High, for the day hath come when Jehovah shall once more visit the earth and talk face to face with his creatures. Behold, the day hath come, saith the Lord, that I will raise unto David a righteous branch, and a king to reign and prosper, who shall execute judgment and justice on the earth.

"'Behold, the day hath come, saith the Lord, in which Judah shall be saved, and Israel shall dwell safely; when I will set up shepherds over them, which shall feed them, and they shall lack nothing.

"'Arise, shine, for thy light is come, and the glory of the Lord is risen upon thee! Darkness covereth the earth, and gross darkness the people, as saith Esaias; but the Lord shall rise upon thee, and his glory shall be seen upon thee. The Gentiles shall come to his light, and kings to the brightness of his rising. He shall be called the Lord of our righteousness, and shall be a crown of glory in the hand of the Lord, and a royal diadem in the hand of thy God. The Spirit of the Lord is upon me to proclaim the acceptable year of his coming. He hath set me a watchman upon thy walls, O Israel, and I may neither hold my peace day nor night, nor keep silence, nor seek rest, till he come, who hath sent me forth his messenger before his face. How can I refrain from my message of joy? How shall I not speak of his fame? Incline your ear and come unto him. Hear, and your soul shall live.

"'Sing unto the Lord a new song, and his praise from the ends of the earth; for thus saith God the Lord, I have put my spirit upon him; a bruised reed shall he not break, and the smoking flax shall he not quench. I, the Lord, saith Jehovah, addressing the Only Begotten, I have called thee in righteousness, and will hold thy hand and keep thee, and will give thee for a covenant of the people, for a light of the Gentiles, to open the blind eyes, to bring out the prisoners from the prison. I have made him, my first-born, higher than the kings of the earth. Look unto him, and be ye saved, all the ends of the earth. The Lord of Hosts is his name, the Holy One of Israel.'

"All this was spoken with an enthusiasm and fire that made every pulse bound.

"Such," said John, "was the extraordinary style of this mighty prophet's preaching. I fancied I had only to look around to behold the Messiah. The immense multitude stood awed and silent when he had ceased. Leaving the eminence, he said, and I thought he fixed his eyes upon me, 'Ye who desire to be baptized for the remission of sins, that your hearts may be cleansed for the visitation of this Holy One of God, follow me to the river side.' Thousands obeyed, and I one of the first. I trembled all over with a sweet pleasure, when he took me by the hand, and asked me if I believed in him who was to come, and would prepare the way for his abode in my heart by being baptized, which rite also was to be a sign and pledge that when I should behold the Shiloh rising, I should acknowledge him. Not less than one thousand were baptized by him that day in Jordan, confessing their sins, and hopes of pardon through the name of the Unknown One, who was soon to come.

"After the baptism, the whole company dispersed in groups, and the prophet returned into the wilderness till the cool of the evening, where his repast was locusts and the wild honey of the desert."

With this, dear father, I close my long letter. I make no comments. I will only say that my expectations are actively awake, and that I am looking, with thousands of others, for the near advent of the Messiah.

Your daughter,

Adina.

[LETTER V.]

My Dear Father:

"After the prophet had ended his second discourse, and baptized full two hundred more in the sparkling waters of Jordan," resumed the eloquent cousin of Mary, "he sent them away to the city to lodge and buy meat; for few, in their eagerness to hear him, had brought provisions with them. Many, before leaving him, drew near to receive his blessing of love, and it was touching to see venerable men, with locks shining like silver, and leaning upon the staff, bend their aged heads before the youthful Elias, as if in acknowledgment of his divine commission. Mothers also brought their infants, that he might bless them; and youths and maidens knelt reverently at his feet in tears of love and penitence. Calmly he stood upon the green shores, like an angel alighted upon earth, and blessed them in words all new to our ears, but which thrilled to our hearts with some secret power that agitated us with trembling joy.

"'In the name of the Lamb of God I bless thee!'

"'What can be the meaning of these words?' asked Mary, with her gentle earnestness. Her betrothed could only reply that he knew not.

"At length, one after another, the multitude departed, save a few who encamped beneath trees on the banks of the river. Joseph of Arimathea and I were left almost alone standing near the prophet, and regarding him with reverential curiosity. The sun was just disappearing over the distant towers of Jericho, and painting with the richest purple the hills between the river and Jerusalem. Jordan, catching its reddening radiance, rolled past like a river of liquid gold embanked in emerald. The brow of the prophet, lighted up by a sun-ray that shone between the branches of a pomegranate tree, seemed like the face of Moses when he came down from Sinai, a glory of light. He appeared rapt in heavenly meditation, and we stood silent and gazed upon him, not daring to speak. At length he turned towards us, smiled, and, saluting us, grasped the crook or staff on which he had been leaning—for he was weary and pale with his labors of the day—and slowly walked down the shore in the direction of the wilderness. He had not advanced many steps when I felt an irresistible impulse to follow him. I therefore said to my companion:

"'Let us follow him, and learn more of these great things which we have this day heard.'

"We proceeded slowly after him, as he moved in a contemplative mood along the desert path. The sun had already gone down, and the full moon rose on the opposite shore, and the prophet stopped as if to gaze upon its autumnal beauty. We drew near to him. He beheld us, but did not avoid us; seeing which, I advanced with timid confidence, and said:

"'Holy prophet of the Most High God, wilt thou permit two young men of Israel to speak to thee? for our hearts yearn towards thee with love. And chiefly would we inquire of thee touching the advent of the mighty Personage whose near coming thou dost foretell?'

"'Friends,' said the prophet, in a calm and serene manner, 'I am a dweller in the desert, and alone, from choice. I approach men only to proclaim my message. The delights of earth are not for me. My mission is one. Its duration is short. Its aim worthy the greatest prophet of God, yet am I, the least of them, not worthy to be called a prophet; and before the splendor of him whom I announce to the world, I am the dust of the balance. If thou hast sought me to search after knowledge, come and sit down with me upon this rock, and let me hear what thou hast to ask of me, that I may answer thee and go my way.'

"This was said softly, gently, almost sadly, and in a tone that made me love him more and more. I could have cast myself upon his bosom and wept there. We seated ourselves, one on either side of him. The scene and the hour were well fitted for such a converse as we were about to hold. The broad disc of the moon poured a flood of orange-tinted radiance full upon us, and lent a hallowed softness to the divine countenance of the youthful prophet. The Jordan, dark as India's dye, darted swiftly past at our feet, between its deeply-shaded banks, sending up to our ears the faintest murmur of its pebbly passage. Above our heads swelled the vaulted arch of the Temple of Jehovah, with its myriad of altar fires. Behind us stretched the desert waste, cheerless and yet grand in its desolate distances.

"Afar off rose upon the air, and was borne to us at intervals, the voice of a singer in one of the camps; and near us, upon an acacia tree, sat a solitary bulbul, which ceaselessly sang its sweet and varied hymn to the listening moon.

"'All things praise God; shall we be silent?' said the prophet. 'Let us sing the evening hymn of the Temple.' He then commenced, in a rich, melodious chant, such as I have never heard from the priests, our sacred psalm to the whole creation of God. We joined our voices with his, and the tide of praise floated over the waters, and echoed and re-echoed from the opposing shores, as if the banks and stream, trees, hills and sky had found voice as well as we:

"'Praise! praise! praise ye the Lord!
Praise him in the heights! Praise him in the seas!
Praise him, men of Israel! Praise ye the Lord!
For he exalteth high his people,
And reigneth evermore!

"'Praise him, all ye angels! Praise him, all ye hosts!
Praise him, sun and moon, and all ye stars of light!
Praise him, fire and hail! Praise him, storm and snows!
For he judgeth the earth in righteousness,
And reigneth evermore!

"'Praise! praise! praise ye the Lord!
Praise him, winged fowl, and herds, cattle, and all beasts!
Praise him, kings and people, princes, priests and judges!
Praise him, youths and maidens, old men and children!

"'Praise the name, let them praise the name,
Praise the name of the Lord God of Hosts!
For his name alone is excellent,
His glory above the heavens;
Israel is his first-born—a people well-beloved!
Praise! let Israel, therefore, praise him!
Praise him evermore,
Evermore,
Ever, evermore!'

"Never shall I forget the effect produced upon my inmost being by this hymn. The prophet sang as if he were leading a choir of angels. My heart leaped at the chorus, as if it would break out, take wing and leave the earth. When we called on the winds and the fowls of the air to praise Jehovah with us, the thrilling voice of the bulbul seemed to pour from its throat a wilder, richer, more joyous tide of song, and the audible wind bent the adoring trees, and mingled its mystic whispers with the psalm of men. Surely, thought I, it is good for me to be here, for this is none other than the gate of Paradise!

"After a few moments' silence, the prophet spoke and said:

"'You sought me, brethren of Israel; can I do aught for you?'

"'We would hear more, great prophet, touching this mighty One who is to come after thee,' said Joseph.

"'I can tell thee but little, my brethren, save what thou hast heard from me this day. The future is veiled. I bear a message, indeed, but I may not break the seal and read. To you it will be given to know what is now unknown to me. If it be permitted me to see him, it will be but for a brief space, for when he cometh I depart—my errand is done. Blessed are those who live to witness his glory, and to hear the gracious voice of God that proceeds from his anointed lips.'

"'And when will be his advent, and with what form and power cometh this divine Being?' I asked.

"'As a man, but not with comeliness of form that men should desire him. His appearance will be humble, lowly and meek.'

"'Yet you said to-day, Rabbi,' I continued, 'that his power should be infinite, and that of his kingdom there should be no end. You spoke of the glory of his dominions, and the humiliation of Gentile kings beneath his sceptre.'

"'This I cannot explain—it is a mystery to me. I speak as God, by whom I am sent, gives me utterance. I know that he who cometh after me is greater than I, the latchet of whose shoes I am not worthy to unloose.'

"'You taught us this evening, holy prophet, that he would be the Lord from heaven; and yet that Esaias saith he will be despised and rejected of men, wounded for our transgressions, and bruised for our iniquities.'

"'The spirit of God teaches me that these words apply to Shiloh; but I cannot comprehend how these things can be,' he answered, with deep sadness.

"'May I remind you, good Rabbi,' said Joseph, 'that you taught us how this Divine Personage should die, though Lord of life, and be numbered in his death with transgressors, though the Holy One of God?'

"'And such will be the events that are to happen; but seek not to know what no man hath had revealed to him. The divine Messiah himself must be his own interpreter. Blessed will be the eyes that behold him, and listen to the wisdom of his mouth, and keep the law of his lips.'

"'May I ask you, holy prophet of the Lord,' said Joseph, 'how is it that he whom you are sent by God to bear witness to can be the Deliverer of Israel, when you predict for him so sad a fate? Messiah is to restore Jerusalem and the glory of the Temple, so saith Esaias, so say Ezra and Jeremiah. We therefore, in the Messiahs of the prophets, have looked for a powerful potentate, who shall reign in Jerusalem over the whole earth and subdue all nations.'

"'His kingdom is not of this earth,' answered the prophet, impressively.

"'How then can we interpret the prophet David, who maketh the Lord to say: "I have set my King upon my holy hill of Zion"? Also, how shall we interpret those sayings of Esaias who, prophesying of the blessed Christ of God, hath these words: "Of the increase of his government and peace there shall be no end, upon the throne of David, and upon his kingdom, to order it and to establish it with judgment and with justice, from henceforth, even forever"?'

"'I know not. These secrets are with God. This I know, that the least child and the lowliest hireling that liveth in the day of Messias is greater than I. I am the last of the prophets. It is for me to open the last door that leads out from the night of prophecy into the glorious dawn of the day of fulfillment; but I am not permitted to enter beyond the threshold, or share in its blessings. All who come after me will be preferred before me. But let me rejoice that the day-star is about to rise, though his beams shine on all the earth but me!' This was said with the most touching pathos.

"We were both deeply moved, I myself even to tears. I sank on my knees, and kissing his hand, bathed it with my tears.

"He gently raised me, and said in a sweet voice:

"'Brother beloved, thou shalt see him to whom I bear witness, and he will love thee, and thou shalt repose in his bosom!' I burst into tears, and, rising, I walked a little ways apart, and lifting up my eyes toward heaven, I prayed the God of our fathers that I might be found worthy of this blessed honor.

"'And shall I also behold this mighty Son of God?' asked Joseph, with solicitude.

"The prophet took his hand in his, and fixing upon him his eyes of prophetic brightness, said slowly, and in tones awe-inspiring and painfully sorrowful:

"'Thou shalt one day bear him in thine arms, and lay him upon a couch which thou hast prepared for thine own repose. Thou knowest not now what I say, but thou shalt remember it when it cometh to pass!'

"When he had thus spoken, he arose, and waving his hand to us both, he walked rapidly away towards the darkening desert.

"'Didst thou hear him?' at length, after some minutes' pause, asked Joseph of me. 'What can his words mean? They are prophetic of some fearful event. His eyes betrayed some terrible meaning. My heart is troubled.'

"'And mine rejoiceth.' I answered. 'We shall see him! I shall be near him! Oh, if he be like this sweet prophet of God, I shall love him with all my soul's being! How wonderful that we are to be thus associated with this Divine Person! Welcome the hour of his blessed advent!'

"'Wilt thou welcome the advent of a sufferer?' said a voice so near that it startled us by its abruptness, and, looking round, we saw, standing within the shadow of a wild olive tree, a young man who was a stranger, but to whom I afterwards became deeply attached. His face was pale and intellectual, and his form slight but of the most symmetrical elegance. His question at once made me sorrowful, for it recalled the sad prophecy of Esaias.

"'He is also to be king and monarch of the world, and infinitely holy and good,' I said. 'If thou hast been near, thou hast heard the glorious things the prophet has spoken of him.'

"'I have been near—I was reclining beneath this tree when you seated yourselves there. Be not deceived; the divine Man who is to come is to be a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief. He is to be rejected by Israel and despised by Judah. Those whom he comes to bless will despise him for his lowliness and obscurity. His life will be a life of tears, and toil, and heaviness of heart, and he will at last be cut off from among the living, with the ignominy due only to a transgressor. Dost thou welcome the advent of a sufferer?'

"'But how knowest thou this? Art thou a prophet?' I asked with surprise and admiration.

"'No, brother, but I have read the prophets. I heard, moreover, the words of this holy man sent from God, and he dwells more on the humility of the Christ than on his kingly grandeur. Believe me, the kingdom of Shiloh is not of this world. It cannot be of this world, if such is to be his life and death; and that it is to be his life, Esaias clearly states. Let me read to you his words.' He then took a roll of parchment from his bosom, and read by the clear tropical moonlight, that mysterious and inexplicable passage which beginneth with the words: 'Who hath believed our report?' When he had ended, he resumed: 'This is not the history of a prosperous earthly monarch, but rather the painful record of a life of humiliation, of shame, and of contempt.'

"'But thou dost not say, brother,' said Joseph, with some warmth, 'that the sacred Person borne witness to by this prophet is to be an object of contempt?'

"'Does not Esaias say that he will be despised, beaten with stripes, rejected of men, imprisoned, and put to death like a transgressor of the law?'

"'There can be no question but that Esaias speaks of the Messiah,' I remarked.

"'This prophet of Jordan now bears full testimony to Esaias, and plainly maketh application of his words to him whom he has come beforehand to proclaim,' answered the young man, with singularly graceful eloquence in all he said. 'Let us who have been baptized this day for the remission of our sins, expect a Messiah of sorrows, not a conquering prince. Let us behold one who is to humble himself beneath the yoke of human infirmities, that he may be exalted, and draw all men after him to a kingdom in the heavens.'

"'But the throne of David—' objected Joseph.

"'Is at the right hand of God.'

"'But Jerusalem, and its rule over the nations—'

"'Jerusalem that is above, will be over all.'

"'But his kingdom that is to be everlasting—'

"'Is where life is everlasting. How can he rule an everlasting realm here on earth without living forever, and his subjects also? Read not the prophets so? As Adam fell and lost paradise, so Messias, like a second Adam, must, as man, humble himself, in human nature, to repurchase the kingdom of paradise for the race of man. It is this kingdom which this prophet proclaims as being at hand. He being the bearer of our iniquities, we shall thereby escape their chastisement. Healed by his stripes, we shall be free from our sins. Laid upon him will be the transgressions of the world; and by one mighty sacrifice of himself, thus laden, as a sin-offering, he shall offer an atonement to make one with Jehovah the great family of Adam. Such is to be our looked-for Messiah. Alas, while we look for him, let us mingle tears with our gladness, that one so holy and excellent should be destined to endure these things for our sakes; and when we behold him, let us sink at his feet in grateful adoration of his love.'

"When the young man had spoken, he walked away. Impelled by an unconquerable impulse, I followed, and took him in my arms, and embracing him, said: 'Of a truth thou art a prophet! Thy words come home to my heart like the echo of ancient prophecy.'

"'Nay. I have learned these things from the study of the Scripture,' he said, with angelic candor and modesty. 'But I have been aided, how much I have no words to tell thee, by one who hath wisdom and truth abiding in him above all men, and whom it is my happiness to have my bosom friend, as he is near my own age. If I am wise, or virtuous, or good, or know the Scriptures, it is that he hath been my counselor and teacher.'

"'What is his name?' I asked, 'for I also would go and learn of him.'

"'He withdraws from the public eye, and hath little converse but with few, and shuns all notice. Without his permission I could not take thee to him.'

"'What is his appearance, and where doth he dwell?' I inquired, more deeply interested.

"'He abides at present at Bethany, my own city. He is so beloved by us, that we detain him as our guest. But he dwelleth at other times with his mother, a holy widow of great sanctity and matronly dignity, living at Nazareth in humble condition, and he contributes by labor to her support, with the most exemplary filial piety. No person ever approaches and speaks with him without leaving a wiser and better man.'

"'Verily,' said Joseph and I together, 'you have only increased our desire to behold him. His appearance must be noble.'

"'There sits upon his brow a serene dignity, tempered with mildness, that commands the respect of age, and wins the confiding love of childhood. His eyes beam with a light, calm and pure, as if shining from interior holy thoughts, and they rest upon you, when he speaks, with a tenderness that is like the dewy light of the young mother's gaze, when she bends in silent happiness and tears over the face of her first-born. His face is one soft sunshine of smiling rays, tempered in an indescribable manner with a settled look of sadness, an almost imperceptible shade of permanent sorrow, that seems to foreshadow a life of trial and suffering.'

"'He must be another prophet,' said Joseph, with deep earnestness.

"'He does not prophesy, nor preach,' answered the young man.

"'What is his name?' I asked.

"'Jesus, the Nazarene.'

"As the young man was then about to move away, I asked him his name, as he had greatly drawn out my heart towards him, and I felt that if I could be his friend, and the friend of the wise young man of Nazareth, I should be perfectly happy and have no other desire—save, indeed, to live till the Messiah came, that I might behold him, and lay my head upon his sacred bosom.

"'My name is Lazarus, the Scribe,' he answered."

"What?" interrupted Mary. "Then I know him well. He is the brother of Mary and Martha, my friends at Bethany, where I passed a week last year, just before the Passover."

"The next day," continued John, "we renewed our acquaintance, and after three days departed together homeward. Upon arriving at Bethany, Lazarus learned that his friend had gone to Cana, in Galilee, on a visit with his mother, to the house of one of her kinfolk, whose daughter is soon to be married."

Having now, my dear father, communicated to you all that John related to us, you will see what grounds there are to look upon the prophet of Jordan as a man sent from God, or to believe that he is the true Elias, whom Malachi hath foretold, and who, as the most learned of the Scribes say, must first come to proclaim the approach of the Prince of Peace, the Shiloh of Israel's hopes.

The account brought by John has set Rabbi Amos to studying the Prophets, and indeed all men are looking into them with interest unknown before. May God be indeed about to bless his people, and remember his inheritance!

Your affectionate daughter,

Adina.

[LETTER VI.]

My Dear Father:

Your letter, dear father, commands me to banish this "novelty" from my mind, and continue humbly to worship Jehovah after the manner of our fathers. I trust this I shall ever do, my dear father; and did I discover in this prophet any disposition to bring in a new faith, opposed to the ancient faith of Abraham, I should tremble to entertain it for a moment. You say that this man must be "a false and base prophet," or he would not herald a master so low and despised as he professes will be the Christ he bears witness to. "The kingdom of Messias is not a kingdom of repentance and humiliation," you add, "but one of victory, of glory and dominion."

This cut is designed after the model prepared by the student and traveler, Sir James Ferguson.

How can I write to you, my dear father, that which is now rushing to my pen, after such an expression of your sentiments as you have made in this extract from your letter? But I know you are wise, and will not evade truth, in whatever form it may offer itself to you, and I, therefore, with confidence in your justice and wisdom, will faithfully make known to you the events relating to the prophet which have transpired.

You will remember how that John, Mary's cousin, stated that many priests and others were offended at the plain preaching of the prophet whom they went out into the wilderness to see. When they returned to Jerusalem, and made known to the other members of the House of the Priests what had been spoken against them, by the application to them of the words of Esaias and Jeremias, and other prophets, there arose at once a great outcry against him. At length Annas, who is High Priest with Caiaphas, sent two of the most learned men of the Temple, Levites of weight of character, to invite the prophet to Jerusalem; for Annas is a wise man, and not easily carried away by popular feeling; and, as Rabbi Amos hath told me, he is disposed to look upon the preaching of this John with a serious and reverential eye. The messengers returned after the fifth day, and made their report openly in the Court of the Temple, where the High Priests sat to receive them. At length, the assembly being convened, the two learned and venerable Levites both rose up, and declared that they had delivered the message to John, the son of Zacharias, the prophet of Jordan, and that his answer was given with the reverence due to the station of the High Priest who had sent to him.

"'Go and say to the noble High Priest,' said he, 'that I am the voice of one crying in the wilderness, as it is written in the book of the words of Esaias the prophet, who, foreseeing my day, saith, "The voice of one crying in the wilderness, Prepare ye the way of the Lord, make his paths straight." He who would hear my testimony to him who is to come after me, let him seek me in the wilderness, whence only I am commanded to lift up my voice till Shiloh come.'"

When the priests heard this answer they were greatly enraged, and many fiercely cried one thing and many another; some that he should be sought out and stoned to death for defying the High Priest; others, that he should be accused to the Procurator, Pontius Pilate, Governor of Judea, as a seditious and dangerous person, and fermenter of insurrections. Caiaphas was of the latter opinion. But the milder Annas viewed the whole matter in a different light, and said:

"Men and brethren, let nothing be done hastily. If this man be a false prophet, he will soon perish, and we shall hear no more of him. If, peradventure, as it would appear, he is sent from God, let us not make haste to do him a mischief, lest, haply, we be found contending against the Lord of Hosts."

This moderation found favor with but few, and of these few, Rabbi Amos was one. But if the priests who thronged the outer court, in presence of the High Priest, were deeply moved at the report of the prophet's answer, their excitement became well-nigh uncontrollable when both Melchi and Heli, their messengers, rose up, waving their hands for silence, and declared that, after having listened to the prophet to whom they had been sent, they were convinced of the truth of his words, and of his divine commission, and had been baptized of him in Jordan, confessing their sins!

Only the sanctity of the Temple prevented the five hundred priests rushing upon them and smiting them when they heard this. They were at once placed under arrest by order of the High Priest, Caiaphas, for acting in a manner unbecoming a priest of the Most High God. The people who had heard John preach, however, were only prevented from rescuing the two priests by the presence of a guard of Roman soldiers, for which Caiaphas promptly sent.

From this account, my dear father, you can form some idea of the excitement which the preaching of this new prophet is producing among all classes.

If the Prince of Glory should, indeed, suddenly appear, there could be scarcely more excitement, though it would be of a different nature.

As next week Rabbi Amos does not serve in his course in the Temple, and as he will have some affairs that take him to Gilgal, he has yielded to the desire of his daughter Mary and myself to accompany him; for he does not conceal from us that he shall make it a point to visit and hear the prophet, as it will be but two hours' travel from Gilgal to the place where he preaches. You will, I fear me, object to this journey. But if the worship of our fathers has nothing to fear from falsehood, it surely has naught to fear from truth; and in either case I, as a true daughter of Israel, have nothing to fear. If the prophet teach what is false, I shall remain true; and if he teach that which is true, shall I not be the gainer?

One thing is clear—if the Christ that John prophesies be the true Son of the Highest, and is in reality to make his appearance ere long, in humiliation and poverty, his rejection by the High Priests, and by the rich and powerful of Judah, is certain. May God, then, remove blindness from our eyes, that, if this be the very Messias indeed, Israel may recognize their king when he cometh, and not do so fearful a thing in their pride as to reject him openly.

You will remember the young Roman centurion, to whose courtesy I was indebted for rescuing me from the rudeness of the two Gentile soldiers. He has preserved, since then, acquaintance with Rabbi Amos, who speaks of him with respect; and as he has of late expressed some interest in knowing what the studies are which occupy the Rabbi so constantly when he calls to see him, the Rabbi sent for me to come into the marble hall of the corridor, where they sat by the fountain under the shade of the acacia, which Amos says you took with your own hands from Isaiah's grave and planted here, many years ago, and which I, therefore, call "my father's tree."

"Come hither, Adina," said my uncle, in his benevolent tones; "here you behold a noble Roman youth whom you must be too generous to have forgotten." I bowed and scarcely lifted my eyelids from the tesselated floor, for there was a fire in the glance of the handsome youth that they could not encounter. He said some words of salutation; but I only heard the voice, which fell upon my heart with a strange vibration, like the effects of music. "The Roman centurion," continued Amos, "hath desired to know something of the sacred books of our nation, of which he saith he hath heard much; and of the prophecies, from which he believes the famed Sibylline books were composed."

Then, turning to the centurion, "Here is an Egyptian maiden, who can interpret for thee in the idiom of Grecia, or of Italia, and I will place the sacred roll in her hands while I listen. Come Adina, open and read the beginning of the Book of Moses."

To this narrative the youthful warrior listened with the profoundest respect and attention. He asked if the Messias had yet come who was to restore all things; and, if not, when he was to be looked for. This inquiry led to a conversation upon the preaching of John in the wilderness and his predictions of the near advent of Shiloh. Rabbi Amos, seeing that he was becoming deeply interested in the subject, made me turn to the particular prophecies of Daniel, Esaias, David and others, and read them to him; both those which described, in golden words, the glory and dominion of his power, and those which represented him as despised and rejected. The young man remained some time very thoughtful. At length he said, with animation: "I can now comprehend why men run into the wilderness. I should like to hear this prophet."

When Amos told him that he contemplated journeying to Gilgal the next week, and intended to visit the desert to hear him, he at once asked permission to be of his company, saying:

"I will accompany you with a squadron of horse, as the roads are not safe; for no longer ago than yesterday we received a rumor that the celebrated robber chief, Barabbas, at the head of a large band, has made his appearance again on the hills between Ephraim and Jericho."

It is therefore decided, dear father, that we leave early next week for Jericho and Gilgal. On my return I shall not fail to write you without delay. Till then withhold your judgment, and have confidence in mine. With holy aspirations for the coming of the kingdom of David and the restoration of his throne in Zion, I remain, with filial love, your daughter,

Adina.

[LETTER VII.]

My Dear Father:

You will recollect that in my last epistle I made mention of our intention to go to Gilgal, where John, the betrothed of Mary, was to meet us and accompany us to Jordan.

It was faint dawn when we rose from our couches to prepare for the journey. The mules upon which we were to ride were brought into the court by the two swarthy Gibeonite serfs whom Rabbi Amos holds in his service, and caparisoned with rich saddles covered with Persian saddle-cloths, embroidered with gold. The two pack mules were also made ready, on one of which was the traveling equipage of my cousin Mary and myself, which Rabbi Amos smilingly said took up more space than the goods and traveling wares of a Damascus merchant. At sunrise, after we had kneeled upon the housetop, in view of the Temple, and sent up our prayers with its sacrifices and clouds of ascending incense, we descended to the court-yard to mount for the road.

The morning was bright and cheerful, with the golden sun pouring its light over temple and tower, castle and roof, wall and rampart, hill and grove, valley and brook. As we turned the street leading to the Sheep Gate, we passed the house of Caiaphas, the High Priest, whom I saw standing upon the marble porch of his superb palace. He was not arrayed in his sumptuous robes, with the breast-plate of dazzling stones, and kingly cap, as I had seen him in the Temple, but was dressed in a flowing black robe, over which was thrown a scarf of white linen; and upon his snow-white locks he wore a scarlet hood, a dress common to all the priests, so that if I had not recognized him by his tall and commanding form and flowing white hair and piercing eye, as he surveyed us, I should have known that it was the High Priest.

A little further on we met a party coming from the country beyond Kedron, with large cages upon their mules, laden with turtle doves and young pigeons, which they were carrying to the Temple, to be sold there for sacrifices. My heart pitied the innocent things, whose blue, pretty heads were thrust by the dozen through the rough bars of their prison-houses, as they cast their soft eyes up at me, as if asking me to deliver them from their bondage. As Mary was riding behind me, in order to let the laden mules pass with their immense cages, one of the turtle doves, affrighted by the noise of the streets, extricated itself from between the bars, and spreading its wings, flew into the air, and then taking its flight for the country, soared far above the city walls and disappeared in the distance. I felt rejoiced at the innocent bird's escape, and sent my good wishes for its safe return to its lodge in the wilderness. Just before we reached the Sheep Gate, by which we were to gain the Jericho road, we met a poor blind man leading a lamb, or rather being led by a tame lamb. He also had two pigeons in his bosom. He was asked by Rabbi Amos, who knew him, whither he was going. He answered that he was going to the Temple to sacrifice them. "Nay," said Amos, with surprise, "thou wilt not sacrifice thy lamb, Bartimeus?"

"It is an offering to God, Rabbi Amos."

"But thy lamb leadeth thee everywhere. It is eyes to thee. Thou canst not do without it. And thy doves? Thou earnest by them many a mite in a day, they are so well taught in cunning and pleasant tricks to please children. If thou wilt sacrifice, spare these so needful to thee, and here is money to buy doves and another lamb," answered my benevolent uncle.

"Hear what I have to say," answered Bartimeus. "My father became sick and was likely to die. The next day my mother, who has nourished my childhood and loved me, though I was born blind, with all her heart, was also taken sick. The same night my little daughter, my little blind daughter, whose face I never saw, and who never saw her father's face, was sick nigh unto death. My father, my mother, my child, are now restored, and in my joy I am on my way to the Temple, to offer these gifts of God to him. It will not be hard to part with them, since, in giving all that I have, I but show my love to God."

With these words he went on, the lamb, obeying the string which he held, softly moving on before; while I could see the sightless eyes of the righteous son and pious father trickle tears, as he kissed and kissed again the precious doves that lay in his bosom. This little occurrence made me sad; yet I honored the resolute piety of this poor man, whose eyes, though they saw not men, seemed to see God and feel his presence. There is still humble piety in the land, my dear father, and finding it not among the proud and splendid priests, we must look for it in the hearts of the poor and humble, like Bartimeus.

Once outside the gates, the air blew fresh from the hills of olives. After being so long confined within the walls and narrow streets, it seemed to me that I had just broken out of my cage, like the pretty, blue-headed turtle dove, and I felt like winging my way, too, to the free deserts.

We had hardly reached the place where the two roads meet, when we heard to the west the sound of the galloping of a large body of horse, and the next moment the young Roman centurion came in sight, riding at the head of a troop of horse, whose martial appearance, with the ringing of their armor and the melody of their bugles, made my blood leap. Æmilius looked like a prince, and his burnished armor shone in the sun like armor of fire. At his side rode a youth who bore the eagle of his band, but the centurion himself carried in his hand only the badge of his rank, which was a vine-rod bound with rings of gold. He saluted us with that courtesy which distinguishes his every motion, and then dividing his troop into two bodies, half of whom, trotting on ahead, led the van, and the other half, falling behind, served as a rear-guard. He then gave the word to move forward.

Farewell, dear father, till my next, when I will resume my narrative of the events which have taken place since I left Jerusalem. The God of our father Abraham be your defence and shield.

Your affectionate daughter,

Adina.

[LETTER VIII.]

My Dear Father:

My last letter ended with an account of the Roman escort, under the authority of the young Roman centurion who, as I have before written to you, with so much courtesy proffered its protection to our little party. The day was yet early, and the air was of that buoyant elasticity so agreeable to breathe, and which strikes me as one of the peculiar blessings of this holy land of our fathers. As I rode along, I felt as if I would gladly mount the Arabian of the desert and fly across the sandy seas of Edom, with the fleetness which amazes me whenever I see the children of the desert ride; for a band of thirty came boldly near us from a gorge as we approached Bethany, and after watching us a few moments, scoured away into the recesses of the hills like the wind, as a detachment of our Roman escort was ordered to gallop towards them. We were fortunate in having such strong protection.

We soon afterwards reached the summit of the ridge above Bethany, from which eminence we had a gorgeous view of the Holy City of God, with its lofty Temple glittering in the sunbeams. The Tower of Antonia darkly contrasted with its splendor, and the citadel of David frowned over the walls with a warlike majesty that deeply impressed me. I drew rein, and entreated Rabbi Amos to delay a few moments while I surveyed Jerusalem, but he was too far ahead to hear me, and the centurion, riding up to my side, stopped respectfully with a portion of his command, and said he would await my leisure. I could not but thank him for his civility, and then turning towards the city, I was soon lost to all else but the awful contemplation of it.

"You should see Rome," said the centurion, who had watched my emotion evidently with surprise. "It is a city of grandeur unequalled. It covers six times more space than this city, and it contains three hundred and sixty-five temples, while Jerusalem contains but one!"

"There is no God but one," I answered, impressively.

"We believe there is one God, who is the author of a great multitude of lesser gods, and to each we erect a temple," he said firmly, yet respectfully.

Upon this, touched with pity that one so noble in mind and person should be so ignorant of the truth, I began to show him from the Prophets that God was one, and that all things were made by him. But he, plucking a blossom from a tree within reach, said:

"It is beneath the dignity of the Father of the gods, the great Jove, to descend to make a flower like this, or shape a crystal, or color the ruby, or create that golden-eyed humming-bird which flutters among those fragrant blossoms. He made the sun, and moon, and stars, and earth, but left the lesser works to inferior deities. Talk to me of thy one God, and prove to me, maiden, that he made all things, and is one, and thy God shall be my God."

We now rode forward through the street of Bethany, and soon came to the house of our former friend, Rabbi Abel, who died many years ago at Alexandria, when he went there with merchandise, and after the welfare of whose children you desired me to make inquiries. It was a plain and humble dwelling before which Rabbi Amos assisted me to alight; but there was an air of neatness and sweet domestic repose about it that at once came home to my heart, and made me love the place even before I had seen the inmates. On hearing of my arrival, there came out a fair young girl of twenty-two, with the most amiable expression of affectionate welcome, and approaching me with mingled respect and love, she embraced me, while Rabbi Amos pronounced our names to each other. I felt immediately as if I were in a sister's arms, and that I should love her always. Next came forth a young man of about thirty years of age, with a countenance of an exceedingly interesting expression, full of intellect and good will. He was pale and habitually thoughtful, but a fine friendly light beamed in his dark, handsome eyes, as he extended his hand to welcome me. You have already had a full description of him, and of his character, in one of my former letters, and need not be told that it was Lazarus, the son of your friend. At the threshold Martha, the eldest sister, met me, but with more ceremony, and made an apology for receiving me, the rich heiress of Alexandria, as she termed me, into so lowly a dwelling; but I embraced her so affectionately that this feeling passed away instantly. Martha busied herself at once to prepare refreshments for us, and soon set before us a frugal but agreeable repast. Mary, in the meanwhile, and Lazarus, sat on either side of me, and asked me many questions about Alexandria.

I cannot describe to you the loveliness of the person of Mary, and yet not so much the perfection of features as the soul which animates them, and lends them a charm that I cannot adequately convey to you.

Martha, the oldest, is of a more lively disposition, yet more commanding in her aspect, being taller and almost queenly in her mien. Her eyes and her hair are jet black; the former mild and beaming with intelligence, like those of her brother Lazarus, whom she resembles. She has a winning voice, and a manner that leads you to feel strong confidence in her friendship. She seemed to take the whole management of our entertainment upon herself. Lazarus conversed chiefly with Rabbi Amos, who questioned him with much interest about the prophet John of the wilderness. After our repast, Martha showed me three beautiful bands of embroidery, which she was working for the new vail of the Temple to be put on next year; for the sisters live by working needle-work for the Temple, and Lazarus makes copies of the Laws and Psalms for the priests. He showed me his copying-table, and the rolls of parchment upon it, some partly inscribed in beautiful characters, some quite complete. He also showed me a copy of the book of Isaiah, which had occupied him one hundred and seven days. It was exquisitely executed.

Seeing upon the table a richly worked book-cover of silk and velvet, with the letters, "J. N." embroidered in olive leaves upon it, I asked Mary if that, being so elegant, was not for the High Priest.

"No," answered Martha, with brightening eyes, speaking before her sister could reply, "that is for our friend, and the friend and brother of Lazarus."

"What is his name?" I asked.

"Jesus, of Nazareth."

"I have heard John speak of this person," said my cousin Mary, with animation. "I should feel happy to know him also."

"If you had been here a few days ago," replied Martha, "you would have seen him. He left us, after being with us three weeks, to return to Nazareth. But he requested to meet Lazarus at Bethabara, on the third day from this, for some important reason; and my brother will go, for he loves him so that he would cross the seas to meet him."

"Then," said Rabbi Amos to Lazarus, "if you are to journey so soon towards Jordan to meet your friend, you had best join our company and share our escort." To this Lazarus consented.

I left this blessed abode with regret, and felt that I should be perfectly happy if I could be admitted as a fifth link in the wealth of their mutual love.

About noon we stopped at a caravanserai, half the way to Jericho from Bethany. Here we overtook a friend of Rabbi Amos, the venerable and learned scholar and lawyer, Gamaliel. Accompanying the lawyer, Gamaliel, was a young man who was his disciple, and who went with him as a companion by the way. His name is Saul, and I noticed him particularly, because I overheard the venerable lawyer say that he was the most remarkable young man who had ever sat at his feet to learn the mysteries of the law. This young law disciple and Lazarus rode together, and talked long and earnestly by the way, the former thinking that nothing but mischief would come of the new prophet's preaching, while the latter warmly defended him and his mission as divine. To their conversation the Roman centurion listened with the closest attention, for Saul was learned in the Prophets, and drew richly from its stores to prove that the true Messias can never be heralded by so mean a messenger as this preacher of repentance in the wilderness.

I now write to thee beneath the roof of the country residence of Rabbi Amos. To-morrow early we are going to Bethabara, a little village beyond Jordan, but situated on its banks, near which we learn John is now baptizing. Lazarus has gone on with Saul and the learned Gamaliel, with many lawyers and doctors in company, who desire to see and hear this prophet of the wilderness.

That the hope of Israel may not be long deferred, and that we may receive the Messias, when he cometh, in humble faith, in honor and in love, is the prayer of

Your affectionate daughter,

Adina.

[LETTER IX.]

My Dear Father:

In these letters to you I hope you will pardon the details which I enter into, for it is my earnest desire that you should see everything with my eyes, as if you had been present with me, in order that you may be able to judge of the remarkable events of which I have undertaken to give you a complete history.

After Rabbi Amos had reached the house in the wheat fields of Gilgal, he kindly told us that he was ready to accompany my cousin Mary and myself to the Jordan to hear the prophet. We had not ridden a great way from the house when we overtook two men on foot, with staves in their hands and wallets upon their shoulders. As we passed, one of them bowed with respect to Rabbi Amos, who, from his rank as a priest and his venerable appearance, always commands the homage of all men.

"Whither goest thou at such a pace, friend Matthew?" said Rabbi Amos, returning his salutation. "Canst thou leave thy tax-gathering these busy times to go into the wilderness?"

The person, who was a man of stout figure, with dark hair and beard and a look of intelligence, but whose costume was plain and ill-worn, smiled and answered:

"If a man would find the payers of tribute nowadays, good master, he must not stay at home, forsooth, but go into the wilderness of Jordan. Verily, this new prophet emptieth our towns, and we publicans must remain idle in our seat of customs or go with the tide."

"And thinkest thou," continued my uncle, as the two men walked along by the side of his mule, "thinkest thou this prophet is a true son of the prophets?"

"He works no miracles, unless indeed the power of his preaching be a miracle," answered Matthew.

"This man is an impostor. There can be no prophet unless he prove his mission by miracles," suddenly said the companion of Matthew, speaking up abruptly in a sharp and unpleasing voice. Now neither Mary nor I liked the face of this man from the first. He was low in height, was ill-featured, and his attire was mean; but he had a suspicious air, combined with a cringing deference to Rabbi Amos, that made me think he must be a hypocrite. He smiled with his mouth and teeth, but at the same time looked sinister out of his eyes. An air of humility seemed to me to be put on to conceal the pride and wickedness of his character. He looked like a man who could artfully deceive to gain his selfish ends, and who would kneel to you to overturn you. The sound of his voice confirmed my first impression of him. Upon speaking, Rabbi Amos fixed his eyes upon him, as if he did not like the manner of his breaking in upon the conversation.

"What is thy companion's name, friend Matthew?" he asked aside, as the other walked on ahead.

"His name is Judas, called Iscariot. He hath been engaged by me to bear the moneys I collect in the country villages; and as we are to gather taxes both at Gilgal and Bethabara, he cometh with me."

At length, dear father, after hastening the speed of our mules and riding pleasantly for two hours along the verdant banks of Jordan, we came in sight of a square tower of stone, peering above the trees which marked the site of the village of Bethabara. "That tower," said Rabbi Amos, "stands over a cave in which Elijah long dwelt. From the summit of yonder hill, at the left, the prophet was caught up and ascended to heaven upon the chariot of fire; and near where you see the single rock, Elisha divided Jordan with the fallen mantle left him by the ascending prophet of God."

While my eyes were fixed upon the hill, and my imagination presented to me Elijah standing upon the chariot of heaven, disappearing amid the clouds, there was an opening in the wood before us, and all at once we beheld a scene that made my heart cease to beat, it was so new and wonderful. Near the place the winding river takes a broad curve, and the opposite village of Bethabara lies in the hollow of it, forming the center of half a circle. This widely curving shore was alive with the human heads that filled it. And of this vast multitude every eye was concentrated upon the prophet. He was standing near the opposite shore (the Jordan here is very narrow and can be forded), in the water, addressing the countless assembly that stood opposite to and half encircling him. Near him, behind, and on either side, sat his disciples, upon the bank, at least a hundred in number, chiefly young men.

The clear voice of the youthful prophet of the wilderness fell distinctly on our ears, so great was the stillness of the vast audience. To my surprise I saw John, the cousin of Mary, standing close to the prophet, and listening with the deepest and most reverent attention to every syllable he uttered. The subject of the prophet's discourse was as before, and as always, the coming of the Messias. Oh, that I could give you, my dear father, the faintest idea of the power and eloquence of his language!

"Do you ask me if the blood of bulls and goats take not away sin? I answer and say unto you, that the Lord hath said that he delighteth not in these rivers of blood," he continued earnestly.

"For what, then, great prophet," asked one of the chief Levites, who stood near him, "for what, then, are the sacrifices ordained by the law of Moses? for what then the altar in the Temple, and the daily sacrifice of the lamb?"

"For what?" repeated the prophet, with his eyes beaming with the earnest light of inspiration; "for what but as types and shadows of the real and true sacrifice appointed by God from the foundation of the world? Think ye a man can give the lamb of his flock for himself? Nay, men of Israel, the day has come when your eyes shall be opened. The hour is at hand when the true meaning of the daily sacrifice shall be understood. Lo, the Messiah cometh, and ye shall see and believe!"

There now came several persons towards him who desired baptism. While he was baptizing these persons, both men and women, I saw appear on a little mound near the tower, Lazarus, the brother of Martha, accompanied by a man of about his own years, of an indescribable dignity and grace of aspect, combined with an air of benevolence and peace that at once attracted me.

He was wrapped in a vesture of dark blue cloth, which was folded about his form; his head was bare, and his hair flowed like a Nazarene's down about his shoulders. He seemed so unlike all other men, in a certain majesty united with sweetness that marked his whole air, that I could not withdraw my gaze from him.

The prophet at the same moment rested his eyes upon him, and as he did so, I saw a change come over his face, as if he had seen an angel. His eyes shone with unearthly brilliancy; his lips parted as if he would speak, yet had lost the power; and then, with his right hand stretched forth towards the noble stranger, he stood for a moment like a statue. All eyes followed his and the direction of his stretched-out arm. Suddenly he exclaimed, and oh, how like the trumpet of Horeb his voice rang!—

"Behold!"

There was not a face in that vast multitude that was not directed towards the little eminence.

"Ye have asked wherefore is slain the daily lamb," continued the prophet. "The day has come when the lamb of sacrifice, which can take away no sin, shall cease. Behold!" And here he stretched forth both arms towards the dignified stranger. "Behold him who taketh away the transgressions of men! He it is who, coming after me, is preferred before me. He it is to whom I bear witness, as the Messiah, the Son of the Highest! There stands the Christ of God! the only true Lamb, whose blood can take away the iniquities of us all. He hath dwelt among you, he hath walked your streets, he hath sat in your homes, and I knew him not, till I now behold on him the sign of the Messiah!"

When the prophet had thus spoken in a voice that thrilled to every bosom, we beheld the august stranger advance towards the prophet. He moved on alone. Lazarus had fallen prostrate on his face. As he continued to come forward, all was expectation in the immense multitude. The mass of heads swayed this way and that, to get a sight of his face, which I could see was serene, but pale and earnest. John, the cousin of Mary, seeing him approach, lowly knelt, and bowed his head in reverential awe and love. Those who stood between him and the prophet moved involuntarily apart, and left an open path for him to the water-side. He walked at a slow and even pace, with an air of humility veiling the native dignity of his kingly port.

The prophet, on seeing him come near, regarded him, as it seemed to me, with far more awe than all others.

"What wouldst thou of thy servant, O Messiah, Prophet of God, mighty to save?" he said, in tremulous tones, as the stranger came even some paces into the water towards him.

"To be baptized of thee," answered the Christ, in a still, quiet voice, that was heard to the remotest bounds of the crowd. Never, oh, never shall I forget the sounds of that voice, as it fell upon my ears!

"I have need to be baptized of thee; and comest thou to me?" answered the prophet, with the lowliest humility and awe of manner and with looks expressive of his amazement.

"It becometh us to fulfill all righteousness," answered Messiah, mildly; and when he had said this, the prophet, though still with a manner of doubt, and with the holiest reverence, administered then unto him, in the sight of all the people, the like baptism which he had administered to his disciples.

And now, my dear father, comes to be related the most extraordinary thing that ever took place in Israel since the Law was given from Sinai.

No sooner did the baptized stranger go up out of the water, than there was heard above all our heads a noise as of rolling thunder, although the sky was cloudless; and when in great fear we looked up, we beheld a dazzling glory far brighter than the sun, and from the midst of this celestial splendor there darted with arrowy velocity a ray of light which descended and lit upon the head of the Christ. Some of the people said it thundered, and others that it lightened, but judge of the amazement and admiration of all, and the dread awe that shook every soul when, amid the glory above his head, was seen the form of a dove of fire, with outspread wings overshadowing him as it were, and from the heavens what was supposed to be thunder shaped itself into a voice, which uttered these words in the hearing of every ear:

"This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased!"

At hearing these words from the skies a great part of the multitude fell on their faces. Every cheek was pale, and each man gazed on his neighbor in wonder and fear. When the majestic, yet terrible, voice had given utterance to these words, the light disappeared, the dove re-ascended to the skies and was lost to sight, leaving a halo of divine glory resting upon the head of this "Son of God." He alone seemed unmoved and calm amid all this awful scene, and going up the river bank, disappeared mysteriously and suddenly from my earnest gaze. At length, when men came a little to themselves, and would gaze on him whom all knew now to be the Christ, no one could find him, so effectually had he withdrawn himself from their homage.

Your affectionate,