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.