leaving it again till midnight, unless Jesus should come there before then. We reached there in time to secure good places near the priest's court, in the court of the Gentiles; for it was there that they said Jesus mostly taught. It was well we went as we did, for the crowd soon pressed in, and became very dense, and made up of all nations. I clung to Benaiah's arm, and almost repented my zeal. I was soon engaged in watching the almost numberless priests, as they arranged themselves in their order in their court. Presently the prayers and the voices of the people were silenced by the shout which told that the water was drawn from the fount, and soon the already well-filled courts were crowded by an immense multitude; all the new-comers bearing pitchers on their heads, in token of the rite. At length the bearers of the golden vessels of water came in, crying, as they came-"With joy we draw water from the wells of salvation!" As the priests mingled wine with the water, the people took up the cry- -" With joy we draw water from the wells of salvation!" As he poured the wine and water on the altar, the multitude shouted aloud. Their shout-" Hosannah! Hosannah!" was prolonged and reiterated, until the multitude was as if beside itself in its joy and gratitude. My heart went back to the time when the weary and footsore Israelites saw the water gush from the rock at Moses' command; and I thought of the Jewish saying-" He who has not seen the joy of drawing water, has seen no joy." After the last shout of joy had died away, a silence ensued, which was broken by a loud, clear voice near me—“ If any man thirst, let him come to me and drink!" Instantly it flashed upon me that the speaker was the one I sought; and, turning to him, I lost all he said, so intent and earnestly did I gaze upon his face. Nothing of the vulgar cunning I had feared to see was in that face: it was calm and composed. He spoke as if God gave him authority. His air and bearing was of great majesty; but when his eye fell upon me, and I saw its expression, I felt that his soul must be beautiful and glorious indeed. My thoughts flew to the sweet sisters of Bethany, and I almost wished that I was one of them, that he might look at me with love. The multitude swayed to and fro; the ceremonies continued; Jesus moved away; and I saw him no more. He left the Temple, they said. On my way home I shuddered when I met the priests or Pharisees, for they were outraged at this reappearance, and their looks were stern and angry. Azariah begged me not to go to the Temple in the evening, as he feared there might be trouble. He stayed with me, and reasoned with me about "this man"—as he calls him. After the evening service, Nicodemus came in, and some of the priests, and the bitterness that was spoken against Christ was dreadful to hear. Azariah laughs still. How can he laugh? Yet I should be glad that he laughs, and that I do not hear anger and hatred from him. Some of the officers of the Temple came in search of Azariah, to counsel with him. When our guests had gone, Azariah told me they were in great tribulation; that they feared disgrace, as the priests had sent them to take Christ, and that no man durst touch him; for he spake as never man spake. And they said, also, that Nicodemus had taken Christ's part; or, to speak better, had advised justice be given him; that the priests had taunted him with being a disciple. He said nothing to us about it, but he is surely much troubled, and doubts if this Jesus be the Christ or not. If he is, may he soon exhibit his power, is my prayer, as well as the prayer of many anxious ones. Farewell! Pleasant dreams be thine, mother dear! Tisri, 25th. As I bade you farewell last night, I little dreamed what was in store for us. A special messenger is waiting to take you this letter, that you may have the glad tidings as soon as possible. Sarai is with us again, never to leave us. Is not God, indeed, good? He has sent this great prophet-if he is not his son, as he believes himself to be--to be the Saviour of our family. I must tell you all in order, if I can have patience; and my hand trembles so from excitement. Yesterday morning little Rebekah seemed ill, and so I could not go to the temple; but about the ninth hour she was better, so that I could leave her, and, as you may imagine, went to the temple. It was almost deserted; and when I asked where the new teacher was, no one knew. When I returned home, I stopped in at Nicodemus' house. He was at home, and very sorrowful. Annah was in tears. She has faith in Jesus, it seems, and weeps that he does not exert his power. They told me that Jesus did go to the temple in the morning, and that the doctors disputed with him, and that he angered those about him-that they even took stones to cast at him, but that he hid himself, and saved his life.Annah weeps from impatience that he will suffer such things, and from a little fear, too, I suspect, that he may be deluded. I bethought me that I would go to Bethany and see those sweet sisters, and ask them of Jesus; so I wrapped up some presents in a straw case, and gave it in charge of Hadad, the chief of my bondmen, now that Gideon has gone to Rome on business for Azariah. In the case I put some delicate confections which came from Rome, some Persian perfume, and some of my most exquisite flowers. We mounted our mules and went our way. The sisters were not at home, and I waited for them some time. The sun was setting when we neared Jerusalem. After all, I had to leave my gift with the servants. The evening was so fine, that I thought I would walk part of the way home; so Hadad and the mules were dismissed. Wrapping my veil about me, I was bent upon enjoying the fine evening and the beautiful country. But my mind would revert to Azariah's reasons why it was impossible that this man would prove our Christ; they reverted to Christ himself to the sisters at Bethany-to all-to everything but the purpose of my walk. I saw people pass by me, and yet noted not their forms. As it was the time people generally left Jerusalem for their country houses, the number of persons that passed by was quite large. Quite near the city, however, my attention was attracted from my thoughts by hearing that sad exclamation, “Unclean, unclean!" and shrinking back involuntarily, I saw near me, upon the bank at the road-side, a young girl most horribly disfigured by leprosy, and by her was a woman who wept very bitterly. The leprosy had so changed her face that I could not help wondering how much like a human being she might have looked had she been well. Kind thoughts induced me to pause a moment, and say something to her. "Have you Buffered long?" "I have been a leper all my life," she gasped. Again 1 asked, if she suffered much, and she answered that she did, very much. May God in his mercy heal you," I ejaculated, and was moving on, when it occurred to me she might know something of Helon. "Knew you aught, my child, of a leper in the wilderness, whose name was HeIon-Helon of Jerusalem, whose father was Amaziah of Jerusalem ?" The girl looked wonderingly at me, and repeated, "Helon of Jerusalem? -he is dead; he was my father." So affected was I by this, that I could not speak, but pointed inquiringly at the woman. "She is my mother" I feared to check the weep was her answer. Ah me! I did not move. ing of the poor woman-I feared to see her face. This Sarai's child? What change in her might not appal me! At last my agony of fear changed to an intense desire to know the worst. I spoke her name;— she recognized me, and pressing her to my heart, we wept together. Youthful beauty is all gone, mother; exposure, sorrow, disappointment have done their work; but I can trace somewhat of the Sarai still. She had come from the far South, as I suspected, in hopes this Christ would heal the sick. So together we watched for him on the road-side. The hours of watching were painful, so much that was to be said swelling our hearts almost to bursting; yet we said but little. And then, with what intense eagerness we scanned every face! The shades of evening came on slowly, deepening into night. The night was dark and cloudy; every moment the sky darkened, and gave prospect of a storm that night, and now we had no hope that we could distinguish Jesus if he passed. I asked Sarai where she should spend the night. I dared not offer her a home in my house, for mother and child could not be separated, and I thought of my children and the wilderness. She said their camel was not far off, and on it was a tent.But the storm? I asked. Sarai said, sadly, storms and desolation, and want were not unknown, and that the child and herself had been accustomed to no other shelter for years. We had no hope any longer for that night. Sarai needed rest, and the child moaned with pain. She told me where her tent should be placed, and I promised to be with her at early dawn. We expected no aid or help that night-yet we staid. We were loth to move, and by action we believed there was no chance of aid from Jesus. Some laborers passed by with torches; the glance fell directly on the young Miriam's face; it shocked me more by that uncertain light than even in that of day. A hand was laid on the poor girl's shoulder: " My daughter, art sick and sorrowful?" I knew that voice, mother-it was Christ. "Be of good cheer; thou art healed." And turning to the friend with him, he continued his way. Instantly the child stood up; the scales fell from her face; her glorious eye beamed in its beauty, and youth and loveliness were on that face where, a moment before, seemed only hateful ugliness. Mother, would you had seen Sarai's look of joy and gratitude! When she could speak, she faltered, My God! my God! forgive me for ever having murmured at thy will." Joy is as intensely painful sometimes as utter sorrow; and so it was this night. But now a calm has succeeded. Scarce an hour passed, and we were home. Benaiah, the younger, is out of the city, but returns to-morrow. Benaiah, the father, is almost insane, because of joy. Sarai sleeps now, but she seems most fearfully exhausted. I sit writing beside her, with a shaded lamp, for I fear that she is more ill than she thinks herself to be, or will allow; and though it has been day without the house for some hours, yet the heavy curtains of this room are closely drawn-all sound forbidden in the house, and the night will be a long one for the over-excited ones. I was too much excited to sleep. The beautiful young Miriam lies beside her mother. Mother and child would not be separated even for the night. How happy Benaiah will be with the mother he so often speaks and dreams of! And this sister-this beautiful, graceful being, his own! I tremble that this is all too happy for us mortals to bear, so that God may not let it last. The love existing between mother and daughter seems deep and exquisite; and could you but hear Sarai speak of Helon! |