"As I was sayin', she's got a kind o' trouble in her breest, doctor;

wull ye tak' a look at it?" We walked into the consulting-room, all

four; Rab grim and comic, willing to be happy and confidential if cause

could be shown, willing also to be the reverse, on the same terms.

Ailie sat down, undid her open gown and her lawn handkerchief round her

neck, and, without a word, showed me her right breast. I looked at and

examined it carefully,--she and James watching me, and Rab eyeing all

three. What could I say? there it was, that had once been so soft, so

shapely, so white, so gracious and bountiful, so "full of all blessed

conditions,"--hard as a stone, a center of horrid pain, making that

pale face, with its gray, lucid, reasonable eyes, and its sweet

resolved mouth, express the full measure of suffering overcome. Why was

that gentle, modest, sweet woman, clean and lovable, condemned by God

to bear such a burden?

I got her away to bed. "May Rab and me bide?" said James. "_You_

may; and Rab, if he will behave himself." "I'se warrant he's do that,

doctor"; and in slunk the faithful beast. I wish you could have seen

him. There are no such dogs now. He belonged to a lost tribe. As I have

said, he was brindle, and gray like Rubislaw granite, his hair short,

hard, and close, like a lion's; his body thick set, like a little bull--

a sort of compressed Hercules of a dog. He must have been ninety

pounds' weight, at the least; he had a large blunt head, his muzzle

black as night, his mouth blacker than any night, a tooth or two--being

all he had--gleaming out of his jaws of darkness. His head was scarred

with the records of old wounds, a sort of series of fields of battle

all over it; one eye out, one ear cropped as close as was Archbishop

Leighton's father's; the remaining eye had the power of two; and above

it, and in constant communication with it, Was a tattered rag of an ear

which was forever unfurling itself, like an old flag; and then that bud

of a tail, about one inch long, if it could in any sense be said to be

long, being as broad as long--the mobility, the instantaneousness of

that bud were very funny and surprising, and its expressive twinklings

and winkings, the intercommunications between the eye, the ear, and it,

were of the oddest and swiftest.

Rab had the dignity and simplicity of great size; and having fought his

way all along the road to absolute supremacy, he was as mighty in his

own line as Julius Caesar or the Duke of Wellington, and had the

gravity [Footnote: A Highland game-keeper, when asked why a certain

terrier, of singular pluck, was so much more solemn than the other

dogs, said, "Oh, Sir, life's full o' sairiousness to him--he just never

can get enuff o' fechtin'."] of all great fighters.

You must have often observed the likeness of certain men to certain

animals, and of certain dogs to men. Now, I never looked at Rab without

thinking of the great Baptist preacher, Andrew Fuller. [Footnote:

Fuller was, in early life, when a farmer lad at Soham, famous as a

boxer; not quarrelsome, but not without "the stern delight" a man of

strength and courage feels in their exercise. Dr. Charles Stewart, of

Dunearn, whose rare gifts and graces as a physician, a divine, a

scholar, and a gentleman, live only in the memory of those few who knew

and survive him, liked to tell how Mr. Fuller used to say, that when he

was in the pulpit, and saw a _buirdly_ man come along the passage,

he would instinctively draw himself up, measure his imaginary

antagonist, and forecast how he would deal with him, his hands

meanwhile condensing into fists, and tending to "square." He must have

been a hard hitter if he boxed as he preached--what "The Fancy" would

call "an ugly customer."] The same large, heavy menacing, combative

somber, honest countenance, the same deep inevitable eye, the same

look,--as of thunder asleep, but ready,--neither a dog nor a man to be

trifled with.

Next day, my master, the surgeon, examined Ailie. There was no doubt it

must kill her, and soon. It could be removed--it might never return--it

would give her speedy relief--she should have it done. She curtsied,

looked at James, and said, "When?" "Tomorrow," said the kind surgeon--a

man of few words. She and James and Rab and I retired. I noticed that

he and she spoke little, but seemed to anticipate everything in each

other. The following day, at noon, the students came in hurrying up the

great stair. At the first landing-place, on a small well-known

blackboard, was a bit of paper fastened by wafers, and many remains of

old wafers beside it. On the paper were the words,--"An operation

today.--J. B. _Clerk_."

Up ran the youths, eager to secure good places: in they crowded, full

of interest and talk. "What's the case?" "Which side is it?"

Don't think them heartless; they are neither better nor worse than you

or I; they get over their professional horrors, and into their proper

work; and in them pity, as an _emotion_, ending in itself or at

best in tears and a long-drawn breath, lessens,--while pity as a

_motive_ is quickened, and gains power and purpose. It is well for

poor human nature that it is so.

The operating theater is crowded; much talk and fun, and all the

cordiality and stir of youth. The surgeon with his staff of assistants

is there. In comes Ailie: one look at her quiets and abates the eager

students. That beautiful old woman is too much for them; they sit down,

and are dumb, and gaze at her. These rough boys feel the power of her

presence. She walks in quickly, but without haste; dressed in her

mutch, her neckerchief, her white dimity short-gown, her black

bombazine petticoat, showing her white worsted stockings and her

carpet-shoes. Behind her was James with Rab. James sat down in the

distance, and took that huge and noble head between his knees. Rab

looked perplexed and dangerous; forever cocking his ear and dropping it

as fast.

Ailie stepped up on a seat, and laid herself on the table, as her

friend the surgeon told her; arranged herself, gave a rapid look at

James, shut her eyes, rested herself on me, and took my hand. The

operation was at once begun; it was necessarily slow; and chloroform--

one of God's best gifts to his suffering children--was then unknown.

The surgeon did his work. The pale face showed its pain, but was still

and silent. Rab's soul was working within him; he saw that something

strange was going on,--blood flowing from his mistress, and she

suffering; his ragged ear was up, and importunate; he growled and gave

now and then a sharp impatient yelp; he would have liked to have done

something to that man. But James had him firm, and gave him a

_glower_ from time to time, and an intimation of a possible kick;--

all the better for James, it kept his eye and his mind off Ailie.

It is over: she is dressed, steps gently and decently down from the

table, looks for James; then turning to the surgeon and the students,

she curtsies,--and in a low, clear voice, begs their pardon if she has

behaved ill. The students--all of us--wept like children; the surgeon

happed her up carefully,--and, resting on James and me, Ailie went to

her room. Rab following. We put her to bed. James took off his heavy

shoes, crammed with tackets, heel-capt and toe-capt, and put them

carefully under the table, saying, "Maister John, I'm for nane o' yer

strynge nurse bodies for Ailie. I'll be her nurse, and I'll gang aboot

on my stockin' soles as canny as pussy." And so he did; and handy and

clever, and swift and tender as any woman, was that horny-handed,

snell, peremptory little man. Everything she got he gave her: he seldom

slept; and often I saw his small shrewd eyes out of the darkness, fixed

on her. As before, they spoke little.

Rab behaved well, never moving, showing us how meek and gentle he could

be, and occasionally, in his sleep, letting us know that he was

demolishing some adversary. He took a walk with me every day, generally

to the Candlemaker Row; but he was somber and mild; declined doing

battle, though some fit cases offered, and indeed submitted to sundry

indignities; and was always very ready to turn, and came faster back,

and trotted up the stair with much lightness, and went straight to that

door.

Jess, the mare, had been sent, with her weather-worn cart, to Howgate,

and had doubtless her own dim and placid meditations and confusions, on

the absence of her master and Rab, and her unnatural freedom from the

road and her cart.

For some days Ailie did well. The wound healed "by the first

intention"; for as James said, "Oor Ailie's skin's ower clean to beil."

The students came in quiet and anxious, and surrounded her bed. She

said she liked to see their young, honest faces. The surgeon dressed

her, and spoke to her in his own short kind way, pitying her through

his eyes, Rab and James outside the circle,--Rab being now reconciled,

and even cordial, and having made up his mind that as yet nobody

required worrying, but, as you may suppose, _semper paratus_.

So far well: but, four days after the operation, my patient had a

sudden and long shivering, a "groosin'," as she called it. I saw her

soon after; her eyes were too bright, her cheek colored; she was

restless, and ashamed of being so; the balance was lost; mischief had

begun. On looking at the wound, a blush of red told the secret: her

pulse was rapid, her breathing anxious and quick, she wasn't herself,

as she said, and was vexed at her restlessness. We tried what we could.

James did everything, was everywhere; never in the way, never out of

it; Rab subsided under the table into a dark place, and was motionless,

all but his eye, which followed every one. Ailie got worse; began to

wander in her mind, gently; was more demonstrative in her ways to

James, rapid in her questions, and sharp at times. He was vexed, and

said, "She was never that way afore, no, never." For a time she knew

her head was wrong, and was always asking our pardon--the dear gentle

old woman: then delirium set in strong, without pause. Her brain gave

way, and then came that terrible spectacle,

"The intellectual power, through words and things,

Went sounding on, a dim and perilous way;"

she sang bits of old songs and Psalms, stopping suddenly, mingling the

Psalms of David, and the diviner words of his Son and Lord, with homely

odds and ends and scraps of ballads.

Nothing more touching, or in a sense more strangely beautiful, did I

ever witness. Her tremulous, rapid, affectionate, eager Scotch voice,--

the swift, aimless, bewildered mind, the baffled utterance, the bright

and perilous eye; some wild words, some household cares, something for

James, the names of the dead, Rab called rapidly and in a "fremyt"

voice, and he starting up, surprised, and slinking off as if he were to

blame somehow, or had been dreaming he heard. Many eager questions and

beseechings which James and I could make nothing of, and on which she

seemed to set her all, and then sink back ununderstood. It was very

sad, but better than many things that are not called sad. James hovered

about, put out and miserable, but active and exact as ever; read to

her, when there was a lull, short bits from the Psalms, prose and

meter, chanting the latter in his own rude and serious way, showing

great knowledge of the fit words, bearing up like a man, and doting

over her as his "ain Ailie." "Ailie, ma woman!" "Ma ain bonnie wee

dawtie!"

The end was drawing on: the golden bowl was breaking; the silver cord

was fast being loosed--that _animula, blandula, vagula, hospes,

comesque_, was about to flee. The body and the soul--companions

for sixty years--were being sundered, and taking leave. She was

walking, alone, through the valley of that shadow, into which one day

we must all enter,--and yet she was not alone, for we know whose rod

and staff were comforting her.

One night she had fallen quiet, and as we hoped, asleep; her eyes were

shut. We put down the gas, and sat watching her. Suddenly she sat up in

bed, and taking a bed-gown which was lying on it rolled up, she held it

eagerly to her breast,--to the right side. We could see her eyes bright

with a surprising tenderness and joy, bending over this bundle of

clothes. She held it as a woman holds her sucking child; opening out

her night-gown impatiently, and holding it close, and brooding over it,

and murmuring foolish little words, as over one whom his mother

comforteth, and who sucks and is satisfied. It was pitiful and strange

to see her wasted dying look, keen and yet vague--her immense love.

"Preserve me!" groaned James, giving way. And then she rocked back and

forward, as if to make it sleep, hushing it, and wasting on it her

infinite fondness. "Wae's me, doctor; I declare she's thinkin' it's

that bairn." "What bairn?" "The only bairn we ever had; our wee Mysie,

and she's in the Kingdom forty years and mair." It was plainly true:

the pain in the breast, telling its urgent story to a bewildered,

ruined brain, was misread and mistaken; it suggested to her the

uneasiness of a breast full of milk, and then the child; and so again

once more they were together, and she had her ain wee Mysie in her

bosom.

This was the close. She sank rapidly: the delirium left her; but, as

she whispered, she was "clean silly"; it was the lightening before the

final darkness. After having for some time lain still--her eyes shut,

she said, "James!" He came close to her, and lifting up her calm,

clear, beautiful eyes, she gave him a long look, turned to me kindly

but shortly, looked for Rab but could not see him, then turned to her

husband again, as if she would never leave off looking, shut her eyes

and composed herself. She lay for some time breathing quick, and passed

away so gently, that when we thought she was gone, James, in his

old-fashioned way, held the mirror to her face. After a long pause, one

small spot of dimness was breathed out; it vanished away, and never

returned, leaving the blank clear darkness without a stain. "What is

our life? it is even a vapor, which appeareth for a little time, and

then vanisheth away."

Rab all this time had been full awake and motionless: he came forward

beside us: Ailie's hand which James had held, was hanging down, it was

soaked with his tears; Rab licked it all over carefully, looked at her,

and returned to his place under the table.

James and I sat, I don't know how long, but for some time,--saying

nothing; he started up abruptly, and with some noise went to the table,

and putting his right fore and middle fingers each into a shoe, pulled

them out, and put them on, breaking one of the leather latchets, and

muttering in anger, "I never did the like o' that fore!"

I believe he never did; nor after either. "Rab!" he said roughly, and

pointing with his thumb to the bottom of the bed. Rab leapt up, and

settled himself; his head and eye to the dead face. "Maister John,

ye'll wait for me," said the carrier; and disappeared in the darkness,

thundering downstairs in his heavy shoes. I ran to a front window:

there he was, already round the house, and out at the gate, fleeing

like a shadow.

I was afraid about him, and yet not afraid; so I sat down beside Rab,

and being wearied, fell asleep. I awoke from a sudden noise outside. It

was November, and there had been a heavy fall of snow. Rab was _in

statu quo_; he heard the noise too, and plainly knew it, but never

moved. I looked out; and there, at the gate, in the dim morning--for

the sun was not up, was Jess and the cart,--a cloud of steam rising

from the old mare. I did not see James; he was already at the door, and

came up the stairs and met me. It was less than three hours since he

left, and he must have posted out--who knows how?--to Howgate, full

nine miles off; yoked Jess, and driven her astonished into town. He had

an armful of blankets, and was streaming with perspiration. He nodded

to me, spread out on the floor two pairs of clean old blankets having

at their corners, "A. G., 1794," in large letters in red worsted. These

were the initials of Alison Græme, and James may have looked in at her

from without--himself unseen but not unthought of--when he was "wat,

wat, and weary," and after having walked many a mile over the hills,

may have seen her sitting, while "a' the lave were sleepin'," and by

the firelight working her name on the blankets, for her ain James's

bed.

He motioned Rab down, and taking his wife in his arms, laid her in the

blankets, and happed her carefully and firmly up, leaving the face

uncovered; and then lifting her, he nodded again sharply to me, and

with a resolved but utterly miserable face, strode along the passage,

and downstairs, followed by Rab. I followed with a light; but he didn't

need it. I went out, holding stupidly the candle in my hand in the calm

frosty air; we were soon at the gate. I could have helped him, but I

saw he was not to be meddled with, and he was strong, and did not need

it. He laid her down as tenderly, as safely, as he had lifted her out

ten days before--as tenderly as when he had her first in his arms when

she was only "A. G."--sorted her, leaving that beautiful sealed face

open to the heavens; and then taking Jess by the head, he moved away.

He did not notice me, neither did Rab, who presided behind the cart.

I stood till they passed through the long shadow of the College, and

turned up Nicolson Street. I heard the solitary cart sound through the

streets, and die away and come again; and I returned, thinking of that

company going up Libberton Brae, then along Roslin Muir, the morning

light touching the Pentlands, and making them like on-looking ghosts;

then down the hill through Auchindinny woods, past "haunted

Woodhouselee"; and as daybreak came sweeping up the bleak Lammermuirs,

and fell on his own door, the company would stop, and James would take

the key, and lift Ailie up again, laying her on her own bed, and,

having put Jess up, would return with Rab and shut the door.

James buried his wife, with his neighbors mourning, Rab watching the

proceedings from a distance. It was snow, and that black ragged hole

would look strange in the midst of the swelling spotless cushion of

white. James looked after everything; then rather suddenly fell ill,

and took to bed; was insensible when the doctor came, and soon died. A

sort of low fever was prevailing in the village, and his want of sleep,

his exhaustion, and his misery, made him apt to take it. The grave was

not difficult to reopen. A fresh fall of snow had again made all things

white and smooth. Rab once more looked on, and slunk home to the

stable.

And what of Rab? I asked for him next week at the new carrier who got

the goodwill of James's business, and was now master of Jess and her

cart. "How's Rab?" He put me off, and said rather rudely, "What's

_your_ business wi' the dowg?" I was not to be so put off.

"Where's Rab?" He, getting confused and red, and intermeddling with his

hair, said, "'Deed, sir, Rab's deid." "Dead! what did he die of?"

"Weel, sir," said he, getting redder, "he didna exactly dee; he was

killed. I had to brain him wi' a rack-pin; there was nae doin' wi' him.

He lay in the treviss wi' the mear, and wadna come oot. I tempit him

wi' kail and meat, but he wad tak' naething, and keepit me frae feedin'

the beast, and he was aye gur gurrin', and grup gruppin' me by the

legs. I was laith to mak' awa wi' the auld dowg, his like wasna atween

this and Thornhill,--but, 'deed, sir, I could do naething else." I

believed him. Fit end for Rab, quick and complete. His teeth and his

friends gone, why should he keep the peace, and be civil?

He was buried in the braeface, near the burn, the children of the

village, his companions, who used to make very free with him and sit on

his ample stomach, as he lay half asleep at the door in the sun,

watching the solemnity.

THE BUSY BLUE JAY

Olive Thorne Miller

I

One of the most interesting birds who ever lived in my Bird Room was a

blue jay named Jakie. He was full of business from morning till night,

scarcely ever a moment still.

Poor little fellow! He had been stolen from the nest before he could

fly, and reared in a house, long before he was given to me. Of course

he could not be set free, for he did not know how to take care of

himself.

Jays are very active birds, and being shut up in a room, my blue jay

had to find things to do, to keep himself busy. If he had been allowed

to grow up out of doors, he would have found plenty to do, planting

acorns and nuts, nesting, and bringing up families.

Sometimes the things he did in the house were what we call mischief

because they annoy us, such as hammering the woodwork to pieces,

tearing bits out of the leaves of books, working holes in chair seats,

or pounding a cardboard box to pieces. But how is a poor little bird to

know what is mischief?

Many things which Jakie did were very funny. For instance, he made it

his business to clear up the room. When he had more food than he could

eat at the moment, he did not leave it around, but put it away

carefully,--not in the garbage pail, for that was not in the room, but

in some safe nook where it did not offend the eye. Sometimes it was

behind the tray in his cage, or among the books on the shelf. The

places he liked best were about me,--in the fold of a ruffle or the

loop of a bow on my dress, and sometimes in the side of my slipper. The

very choicest place of all was in my loosely bound hair. That of course

I could not allow, and I had to keep a very close watch of him for fear

I might have a bit of bread or meat thrust among my locks. In his

clearing up he always went carefully over the floor, picking up pins or

any little thing he could find, and I often dropped burnt matches,

buttons, and other small things to give him something to do. These he

would pick up and put nicely away.

Pins, Jakie took lengthwise in his beak, and at first I thought he had

swallowed them, till I saw him hunt up a proper place to hide them. The

place he chose was between the leaves of a book. He would push a pin

far in out of sight, and then go after another. A match he always tried

to put in a crack, under the baseboard, between the breadths of

matting, or under my rockers. He first placed it, and then tried to

hammer it out of sight. He could seldom get it in far enough to suit

him, and this worried him. Then he would take it out and try another

place.

Once the blue jay found a good match, of the parlor match variety. He

put it between the breadths of matting, and then began to pound on it

as usual. Pretty soon he hit the unburnt end and it went off with a

loud crack, as parlor matches do. Poor Jakie jumped two feet into the

air, nearly frightened out of his wits; and I was frightened, too, for

I feared he might set the house on fire.

Often when I got up from my chair a shower of the bird's playthings

would fall from his various hiding-places about my dress,-nails,

matches, shoe-buttons, bread-crumbs, and other things. Then he had to

begin his work all over again.

Jakie liked a small ball or a marble. His game was to give it a hard

peck and see it roll. If it rolled away from him, he ran after it and

pecked again; but sometimes it rolled toward him, and then he bounded

into the air as if he thought it would bite. And what was funny, he was

always offended at this conduct of the ball, and went off sulky for a

while.

He was a timid little fellow. Wind or storm outside the windows made

him wild. He would fly around the room, squawking at the top of his

voice; and the horrible tin horns the boys liked to blow at

Thanksgiving and Christmas drove him frantic. Once I brought a

Christmas tree into the room to please the birds, and all were

delighted with it except my poor little blue jay, who was much afraid

of it. Think of the sadness of a bird being afraid of a tree!

II

Jakie had decided opinions about people who came into the room to see

me, or to see the birds. At some persons he would squawk every moment.

Others he saluted with a queer cry like "Ob-ble! ob-ble! ob-ble!" Once

when a lady came in with a baby, he fixed his eyes on that infant with

a savage look as if he would like to peck it, and jumped back and forth

in his cage, panting, but perfectly quiet.

Jakie was very devoted to me. He always greeted me with a low, sweet

chatter, with wings quivering, and if he were out of the cage he would

come on the back of my chair and touch my cheek or lips very gently

with his beak, or offer me a bit of food if he had any; and to me

alone, when no one else was near, he sang a low, exquisite song. I

afterwards heard a similar song sung by a wild blue jay to his mate

while she was sitting, and so I knew that my dear little captive had

given me his sweetest--his love song.

One of Jakie's amusements was dancing across the back of a tall chair,

taking funny little steps, coming down hard, "jouncing" his body, and

whistling as loud as he could. He would keep up this funny performance

as long as anybody would stand before him and pretend to dance, too.

My jay was fond of a sensation. One of his dearast bits of fun was to

drive the birds into a panic. This he did by flying furiously around

the room, feathers rustling, and squawking as loud as he could. He

usually managed to fly just over the head of each bird, and as he came

like a catapult, every one flew before him, so that in a minute the

room was full of birds flying madly about trying to get out of his way.

This gave him great pleasure.

Wild blue jays, too, like to stir up their neighbors. A friend told me

of a small party of blue jays that she saw playing this kind of a joke

on a flock of birds of several kinds, robins, catbirds, thrashers, and

others. These birds were gathering the cherries on the top branches of

a big cherry tree. The jays sat quietly on another tree till the cherry

eaters were very busy eating. Then suddenly the mischievous blue rogues

would all rise together and fly at them, as my pet did at the birds in

the room. It had the same effect on the wild birds; they all flew in a

panic. Then the joking jays would return to their tree and wait till

their victims forgot their fear and came straggling back to the

cherries, when they repeated the fun.

Once a grasshopper got into the Bird Room, probably brought in clinging

to some one's dress in the way grasshoppers do. Jakie was in his cage,

but he noticed the stranger instantly, and I opened the door for him.

He went at once to look at the grasshopper, and when it hopped he was

so startled that he hopped, too. Then he picked the insect up, but he

did not know what to do with it, so he dropped it again. Again the

grasshopper jumped directly up, and again the jay did the same. This

they did over and over, till every one was tired laughing at them. It

looked as if they were trying to see who could jump the higher.

There was another bird in the room, however, who knew what grasshoppers

were good for. He was an orchard oriole, and after looking on for a

while, he came down and carried off the hopper to eat. The jay did not

like to lose his plaything; he ran after the thief, and stood on the

floor giving low cries and looking on while the oriole on a chair was

eating the dead grasshopper. When the oriole happened to drop it,

Jakie--who had got a new idea of what to do with grasshoppers--snatched

it up and carried it under a chair and finished it.

I could tell many more stories about my bird, but I have told them

before in one of my "grown-up" books, so I will not repeat them here.

A CRY IN THE NIGHT

William J. Long

This is the rest of the story, just as I saw it, of the little fawns

that I found under the mossy log by the brook. There were two of them,

you remember; and though they looked alike at first glance, I soon

found out that there is just as much difference in fawns as there is in

folks. Eyes, faces, dispositions, characters,--in all things they were

as unlike as the virgins of the parable. One of them was wise, and the

other was very foolish. The one was a follower, a learner; he never

forgot his second lesson, to follow the white flag. The other followed

from the first only his own willful head and feet, and discovered too

late that obedience is life. Until the bear found him, I have no doubt

he was thinking, in his own dumb, foolish way, that obedience is only

for the weak and ignorant, and that government is only an unfair

advantage which all the wilderness mothers take to keep little wild

things from doing as they please.

The wise old mother took them both away when she knew I had found them,

and hid them in a deeper solitude of the big woods, nearer the lake,

where she could the sooner reach them from her feeding grounds. For

days after the wonderful discovery I used to go in the early morning or

the late afternoon, while mother deer are away feeding along the

watercourses, and search the dingle from one end to the other, hoping

to find the little ones again and win their confidence. But they were

not there; and I took to watching instead a family of mink that lived

in a den under a root, and a big owl that always slept in the same

hemlock. Then, one day when a flock of partridges led me out of the

wild berry bushes into a cool green island of the burned lands, I ran

plump upon the deer and her fawns lying all together under a fallen

treetop, dozing away the heat of the day.

They did not see me, but were only scared into action as a branch, upon

which I stood looking for my partridges, gave way beneath my feet and

let me down with a great crash under the fallen tree. There, looking

out, I could see them perfectly, while Kookooskoos himself could hardly

have seen me. At the first crack they all jumped like Jack-in-a-box

when you touch his spring. The mother put up her white flag--which is

the snowy underside of her useful tail, and shows like a beacon by day

or night--and bounded away with a hoarse _Ka-a-a-a-h!_ of warning.

One of the little ones followed her on the instant, jumping squarely in

his mother's tracks, his own little white flag flying to guide any that

might come after him. But the second fawn ran off at a tangent, and

stopped in a moment to stare and whistle and stamp his tiny, foot in an

odd mixture of curiosity and defiance. The mother had to circle back

twice before he followed her, at last, unwillingly. As she stole back

each time, her tail was down and wiggling nervously--which is the sure

sign, when you see it, that some scent of you is floating off through

the woods and telling its warning into the deer's keen nostrils. But

when she jumped away the white flag was straight up, flashing in the

very face of her foolish fawn, telling him as plain as any language

what sign he must follow if he would escape danger and avoid breaking

his legs in the tangled underbrush.

I did not understand till long afterwards, when I had watched the fawns

many times, how important is this latter suggestion. One who follows a

frightened deer and sees or hears him go bounding off at breakneck pace

over loose rocks and broken trees and tangled underbrush; rising swift

on one side of a windfall without knowing what lies on the other side

till he is already falling; driving like an arrow over ground where you

must follow like a snail, lest you wrench a foot or break an ankle,--

finds himself asking with unanswered wonder how any deer can live half

a season in the wilderness without breaking all his legs. And when you

run upon a deer at night and hear him go smashing off in the darkness

at the same reckless speed, over a tangled blow-down, perhaps, through

which you can barely force your way by daylight, then you realize

suddenly that the most wonderful part of a deer's education shows

itself, not in keen eyes or trumpet ears, or in his finely trained

nose, more sensitive a hundred times than any barometer, but in his

forgotten feet, which seem to have eyes and nerves and brains packed

into their hard shells instead of the senseless matter you see there.

Watch the doe yonder as she bounds away, wig-wagging her heedless

little one to follow. She is thinking only of him; and now you see her

feet free to take care of themselves. As she rises over the big

windfall, they hang from the ankle joints, limp as a glove out of which

the hand has been drawn, yet seeming to wait and watch. One hoof

touches a twig; like lightning it spreads and drops, after running for

the smallest fraction of a second along the obstacle to know whether to

relax or stiffen, or rise or fall to meet it. Just before she strikes

the ground on the down plunge, see the wonderful hind hoofs sweep

themselves forward, surveying the ground by touch, and bracing

themselves, in a fraction of time so small that the eye cannot follow,

for the shock of what lies beneath them, whether rock or rotten wood or

yielding moss. The fore feet have followed the quick eyes above, and

shoot straight and sure to their landing; but the hind hoofs must find

the spot for themselves as they come down and, almost ere they find it,

brace themselves again for the push of the mighty muscles above.

Once only I found where a fawn with untrained feet had broken its leg;

and once I heard of a wounded buck, driven to death by dogs, that had

fallen in the same way never to rise again. Those were rare cases. The

marvel is that it does not happen to every deer that fear drives

through the wilderness.

And that is another reason why the fawns must learn to obey a wiser

head than their own. Till their little feet are educated, the mother

must choose the way for them; and a wise fawn will jump squarely in her

tracks. That explains also why deer, even after they are full grown,

will often walk in single file, a half-dozen of them sometimes

following a wise leader, stepping in his tracks and leaving but a

single trail. It is partly, perhaps, to fool their old enemy, the wolf,

and their new enemy, the man, by hiding the weakling's trail in the

stride and hoof mark of a big buck; but it shows also the old habit,

and the training which begins when the fawns first learn to follow the

flag.

After that second discovery I used to go in the afternoon to a point on

the lake nearest the fawns' hiding-place, and wait in my canoe for the

mother to come out and show me where she had left her little ones. As

they grew, and the drain upon her increased from their feeding, she

seemed always half starved. Waiting in my canoe I would hear the

crackle of brush, as she trotted straight down to the lake almost

heedlessly, and see her plunge through the fringe of bushes that

bordered the water. With scarcely a look or a sniff to be sure the

coast was clear, she would jump for the lily pads. Sometimes the canoe

was in plain sight; but she gave no heed as she tore up the juicy buds

and stems, and swallowed them with the appetite of a famished wolf.

Then I would paddle away and, taking my direction from her trail as she

came, hunt diligently for the fawns until I found them.

This last happened only two or three times. The little ones were

already wild; they had forgotten all about our first meeting, and when

I showed myself, or cracked a twig too near them, they would promptly

bolt into the brush. One always ran straight away, his white flag

flying to show that he remembered his lesson; the other went off

zigzag, stopping at every angle of his run to look back and question me

with his eyes and ears.

There was only one way in which such disobedience could end. I saw it

plainly enough one afternoon, when, had I been one of the fierce

prowlers of the wilderness, the little fellow's history would have

stopped short under the paw of Upweekis, the shadowy lynx of the burned

lands. It was late afternoon when I came over a ridge, following a deer

path on my way to the lake, and looked down into a long, narrow valley

filled with berry bushes, and with a few fire-blasted trees standing

here and there to point out the perfect loneliness and desolation of

the place.

Just below me a deer was feeding hungrily, only her hind quarters

showing out of the underbrush. I watched her awhile, then dropped on

all fours and began to creep towards her, to see how near I could get

and what new trait I might discover. But at the first motion (I had

stood at first like an old stump on the ridge) a fawn that had

evidently been watching me all the time from his hiding sprang into

sight with a sharp whistle of warning. The doe threw up her head,

looking straight at me as if she had understood more from the signal

than I had thought possible. There was not an instant's hesitation or

searching. Her eyes went direct to me, as if the fawn's cry had said:

"Behind you, mother, in the path by the second gray rock!" Then she

jumped away, shooting up the opposite hill over roots and rocks as if

thrown by steel springs, blowing hoarsely at every jump, and followed

in splendid style by her watchful little one.

At the first snort of danger there was a rush in the underbrush near

where she had stood, and a second fawn sprang into sight. I knew him

instantly--the heedless one--and knew also that he had neglected too

long the matter of following the flag. He was confused, frightened,

chuckle-headed now; he came darting up the deer path in the wrong

direction, straight towards me, to within two jumps, before he noticed

the man kneeling in the path before him and watching him quietly.

At the startling discovery he stopped short, seeming to shrink smaller

and smaller before my eyes. Then he edged sidewise to a great stump,

hid himself among the roots, and stood stock-still,--a beautiful

picture of innocence and curiosity, framed in the rough brown roots of

the spruce stump. It was his first teaching to hide and be still. Just

as he needed it most, he had forgotten absolutely the second lesson.

We watched each other full five minutes without moving an eyelash. Then

his first lesson ebbed away. He sidled out into the path again, came

towards me two dainty, halting steps, and stamped prettily with his

left fore foot. He was a young buck, and had that trick of stamping

without any instruction. It is an old, old ruse to make you move, to

startle you by the sound and threatening motion into showing who you

are and what are your intentions.

But still the man did not move; the fawn grew frightened at his own

boldness and ran away down the path. Far up the opposite hill I heard

the mother calling him. But he heeded not; he wanted to find out things

for himself. There he was in the path again, watching me. I took out my

handkerchief and waved it gently; at which great marvel he trotted

back, stopping anon to look and stamp his little foot, to show me that

he was not afraid.

"Brave little chap, I like you," I thought, my heart going out to him

as he stood there with his soft eyes and beautiful face, stamping his

little foot. "But what," my thoughts went on, "had happened to you ere

now, had a bear or lucivee lifted his head over the ridge? Next month,

alas! the law will be off; then there will be hunters in these woods,

some of whom leave their hearts, with their wives and children, behind

them. You can't trust them, believe me, little chap. Your mother is

right; you can't trust them."

The night was coming swiftly. The mother's call, growing ever more

anxious, more insistent, swept over the darkening hillside. "Perhaps,"

I thought, with sudden twinges and alarms of conscience, "perhaps I set

you all wrong, little chap, in giving you the taste of salt that day,

and teaching you to trust things that meet you in the wilderness." That

is generally the way when we meddle with Mother Nature, who has her own

good reasons for doing things as she does. "But no! there were two of

you under the old log that day; and the other,--he's up there with his

mother now, where you ought to be,--he knows that old laws are safer

than new thoughts, especially new thoughts in the heads of foolish

youngsters. You are all wrong, little chap, for all your pretty

curiosity, and the stamp of your little foot that quite wins my heart.

Perhaps I am to blame, after all; anyway, I'll teach you better now."

At the thought I picked up a large stone and sent it crashing, jumping,

tearing down the hillside straight at him. All his bravado vanished

like a wink. Up went his flag, and away he went over the logs and rocks

of the great hillside; where presently I heard his mother running in a

great circle till she found him with her nose, thanks to the wood wires

and the wind's messages, and led him away out of danger.

One who lives for a few weeks in the wilderness, with eyes and ears

open, soon finds that, instead of the lawlessness and blind chance

which seem to hold sway there, he lives in the midst of law and order--

an order of things much older than that to which he is accustomed, with

which it is not well to interfere. I was uneasy, following the little

deer path through the twilight stillness; and my uneasiness was not

decreased when I found on a log, within fifty yards of the spot where

the fawn first appeared, the signs of a big lucivee, with plenty of

fawn's hair and fine-cracked bones to tell me what he had eaten for his

midnight dinner.

Down at the lower end of the same deer path, where it stopped at the

lake to let the wild things drink, was a little brook. Outside the

mouth of this brook, among the rocks, was a deep pool; and in the pool

lived some big trout. I was there one night, some two weeks later,

trying to catch some of the big trout for my next breakfast.

Those were wise fish. It was of no use to angle for them by day any

more. They knew all the flies in my book; could tell the new Jenny Lind

from the old Bumble Bee before it struck the water; and seemed to know

perfectly, both by instinct and experience, that they were all frauds,

which might as well be called Jenny Bee and Bumble Lind for any sweet

reasonableness that was in them. Besides all this, the water was warm;

the trout were logy and would not rise.

By night, however, the case was different. A few of the trout would

leave the pool and prowl along the shores in shallow water to see what

tidbits the darkness might bring, in the shape of night bugs and

careless piping frogs and sleepy minnows. Then, if you built a fire on

the beach and cast a white-winged fly across the path of the firelight,

you would sometimes get a big one.

It was fascinating sport always, whether the trout were rising or not.

One had to fish with his ears, and keep most of his wits in his hand,

ready to strike quick and hard when the moment came, after an hour of

casting. Half the time you would not see your fish at all, but only

hear the savage plunge as he swirled down with your fly. At other

times, as you struck sharply at the plunge, your fly would come back to

you, or tangle itself up in unseen snags; and far out, where the verge

of the firelight rippled away into the darkness, you would see a sharp

wave-wedge shooting away, which told you that your trout was only a

musquash. Swimming quietly by, he had seen you and your fire, and

slapped his tail down hard on the water to make you jump. That is a way

Musquash has in the night, so that he can make up his mind what queer

thing you are and what you are doing.

All the while, as you fish, the great dark woods stand close about you,

silent, listening. The air is full of scents and odors that steal

abroad only by night, while the air is dew-laden. Strange cries, calls,

squeaks, rustlings run along the hillside, or float in from the water,

or drop down from the air overhead, to make you guess and wonder what

wood folk are abroad at such unseemly hours, and what they are about.

So that it is good to fish by night, as well as by day, and go home

with heart and head full, even though your creel be empty.

I was standing very still by my fire, waiting for a big trout that had

risen and missed my fly to regain his confidence, when I heard cautious

rustlings in the brush behind me. I turned instantly, and there were

two great glowing spots, the eyes of a deer, flashing out of the dark

woods. A swift rustle, and two more coals glow lower down, flashing and

scintillating with strange colors; and then two more; and I know that

the doe and her fawns are there, stopped and fascinated on their way to

drink by the great wonder of the light, and by the witchery of the

dancing shadows that rush up at timid wild things, as if to frighten

them, but only jump over them and back again, as if inviting them to

join the silent play.

I knelt down quietly beside my fire, slipping on a great roll of birch

bark which blazed up brightly, filling the woods with light. There,

under a spruce, where a dark shadow had been a moment agone, stood the

mother, her eyes all ablaze with the wonder of the light; now staring

steadfastly into the fire; now starting nervously, with low questioning

snorts, as a troop of shadows ran up to play hop-scotch with the little

ones, which stood close behind her, one on either side.

A moment only it lasted. Then one fawn--I knew the heedless one, even

in the firelight, by his face and by his bright-dappled Joseph's coat--

came straight towards me, stopping to stare with flashing eyes when the

fire jumped up, and then to stamp his little foot at the shadows to

show them that he was not afraid.

The mother called him anxiously; but still he came on, stamping

prettily. She grew uneasy, trotting back and forth in a half circle,

warning, calling, pleading. Then, as he came between her and the fire,

and his little shadow stretched away up the hill where she was, showing

how far away he was from her and how near the light, she broke away

from its fascination with an immense effort: _Ka-a-a-h! ka-a-a-h!_

the hoarse cry rang through the startled woods like a pistol shot; and

she bounded away, her white flag shining like a wave crest in the night

to guide her little ones.

The second fawn followed her instantly; but the heedless one barely

swung his head to see where she was going, and then came on towards the

light, staring and stamping in foolish wonder.

I watched him a little while, fascinated myself by his beauty, his

dainty motions, his soft ears with a bright oval of light about them,

his wonderful eyes glowing like burning rainbows kindled by the

firelight. Far behind him the mother's cry ran back and forth along the

hillside. Suddenly it changed; a danger note leaped into it; and again

I heard the call to follow and the crash of brush as she leaped away. I

remembered the lynx and the sad little history written on the log

above. As the quickest way of saving the foolish youngster, I kicked my

fire to pieces and walked out toward him. Then, as the wonder vanished

in darkness and the scent of the man poured up to him on the lake's

breath, the little fellow bounded away--alas! straight up the deer

path, at right angles to the course his mother had taken a moment

before.

Five minutes later I heard the mother calling a strange note in the

direction he had taken, and went up the deer path very quietly to

investigate. At the top of the ridge, where the path dropped away into

a dark narrow valley with dense underbrush on either side, I heard the

fawn answering her, below me among the big trees, and knew instantly

that something had happened. He called continuously, a plaintive cry of

distress, in the black darkness of the spruces. The mother ran around

him in a great circle, calling him to come; while he lay helpless in

the same spot, telling her he could not, and that she must come to him.

So the cries went back and forth in the listening night,--_Hoo-wuh_,

"come here." _Bla-a-a, blr-r-t_, "I can't; come here." _Ka-a-a-h,

ka-a-a-h!_ "danger, follow!"--and then the crash of brush as she

rushed away followed by the second fawn, whom she must save, though she

abandoned the heedless one to prowlers of the night.

It was clear enough what had happened. The cries of the wilderness all

have their meaning, if one but knows how to interpret them. Running

through the dark woods his untrained feet had missed their landing, and

he lay now under some rough windfall, with a broken leg to remind him

of the lesson he had neglected so long.

I was stealing along towards him, feeling my way among the trees in the

darkness, stopping every moment to listen to his cry to guide me, when

a heavy rustle came creeping down the hill and passed close before me.

Something, perhaps, in the sound--a heavy, though almost noiseless,

onward push which only one creature in the woods can possibly make--

something, perhaps, in a faint new odor in the moist air told me

instantly that keener ears than mine had heard the cry; that Mooween

the bear had left his blueberry patch, and was stalking the heedless

fawn, whom he knew, by the hearing of his ears, to have become

separated from his watchful mother in the darkness.

I regained the path silently--though Mooween heeds nothing when his

game is afoot--and ran back to the canoe for my rifle. Ordinarily a

bear is timid as a rabbit; but I had never met one so late at night

before, and knew not how he would act should I take his game away.

Besides, there is everything in the feeling with which one approaches

an animal. If one comes timidly, doubtfully, the animal knows it; and

if one comes swift, silent, resolute, with his power gripped tight, and

the hammer back, and a forefinger resting lightly on the trigger guard,

the animal knows it too, you may depend. Anyway, they always act as if

they knew, and you may safely follow the rule that, whatever your

feeling is, whether fear or doubt or confidence, the large and

dangerous animals will sense it instantly and adopt the opposite

feeling for their rule of action. That is the way I have always found

it in the wilderness. I met a bear once on a narrow path--but I must

tell about that elsewhere.

The cries had ceased; the woods were all dark and silent when I came

back. I went as swiftly as possible--without heed or caution; for

whatever crackling I made the bear would attribute to the desperate

mother--to the spot where I had turned back. Thence I went on

cautiously, taking my bearings from one great tree on the ridge that

lifted its bulk against the sky; slower and slower, till, just this

side of a great windfall, a twig cracked sharply under my foot. It was

answered instantly by a grunt and a jump beyond the windfall--and then

the crashing rush of a bear up the hill, carrying something that caught

and swished loudly on the bushes as it passed, till the sounds vanished

in a faint rustle far away, and the woods were still again.

All night long, from my tent over beyond an arm of the big lake, I

heard the mother calling at intervals. She seemed to be running back

and forth along the ridge, above where the tragedy had occurred. Her

nose told her of the bear and the man; but what awful thing they were

doing with her little one she knew not. Fear and questioning were in

the calls that floated down the ridge and across the water to my little

tent.

At daylight I went back to the spot. I found without trouble where the

fawn had fallen; the moss told mutely of his struggle; and a stain or

two showed where Mooween grabbed him. The rest was a plain trail of

crushed moss and bent grass and stained leaves, and a tuft of soft hair

here and there on the jagged ends of knots in the old windfalls. So the

trail hurried up the hill into a wild rough country where it was of no

use to follow.

As I climbed the last ridge on my way back to the lake, I heard

rustlings in the underbrush, and then the unmistakable crack of a twig

under a deer's foot. The mother had winded me; she was now following

and circling down wind to find out whether her lost fawn were with me.

As yet she knew not what had happened. The bear had frightened her into

extra care of the one fawn of whom she was sure. The other had simply

vanished into the silence and mystery of the great woods.

Where the path turned downward, in sight of the lake, I saw her for a

moment plainly, standing half hid in the underbrush, looking intently

at my old canoe. She saw me at the same instant and bounded away,

quartering up the hill in my direction. Near a thicket of evergreen

that I had just passed, she sounded her hoarse _K-a-a-h, k-a-a-h!_

and threw up her flag. There was a rush within the thicket; a sharp

_K-a-a-h!_ answered hers. Then the second fawn burst out of the

cover where she had hidden him, and darted along the ridge after her,

jumping like a big red fox from rock to rock, rising like a hawk over

the windfalls, hitting her tracks wherever he could, and keeping his

little nose hard down to his one needful lesson of following the white

flag.

SELECTIONS FROM THE BIBLE

THE STORY OF JOSEPH

And Jacob dwelt in the land wherein his father was a stranger, in the

land of Canaan. These are the generations of Jacob. Joseph, being

seventeen years old, was feeding the flock with his brethren; and the

lad was with the sons of Bilhah, and with the sons of Zilpah, his

father's wives; and Joseph brought unto his father their evil report.

Now Israel loved Joseph more than all his children, because he was the

son of his old age: and he made him a coat of many colors. And when his

brethren saw that their father loved him more than all his brethren,

they hated him, and could not speak peaceably unto him.

And Joseph dreamed a dream, and he told it his brethren: and they hated

him yet the more. And he said unto them, "Hear, I pray you, this dream

which I have dreamed: For, behold, we were binding sheaves in the

field, and, lo, my sheaf arose, and also stood upright; and, behold,

your sheaves stood round about, and made obeisance to my sheaf." And

his brethren said to him, "Shalt thou indeed reign over us? or shalt

thou indeed have dominion over us?" And they hated him yet the more for

his dreams, and for his words.

And he dreamed yet another dream, and told it his brethren, and said,

"Behold, I have dreamed a dream more; and, behold, the sun and the moon

and the eleven stars made obeisance to me." And he told it to his

father, and to his brethren: and his father rebuked him, and said unto

him, "What is this dream that thou hast dreamed? Shall I and thy mother

and thy brethren indeed come to bow down ourselves to thee to the

earth?" And his brethren envied him; but his father observed the

saying.

And his brethren went to feed their father's flock in Shechem. And

Israel said unto Joseph: "Do not thy brethren feed the flock in

Shechem? come, and I will send thee unto them." And he said to him:

"Here am I." And he said to him: "Go, I pray thee, see whether it be

well with thy brethren, and well with the flocks; and bring me word

again." So he sent him out of the vale of Hebron, and he came to

Shechem.

And a certain man found him, and, behold, he was wandering in the

field: and the man asked him, saying, "What seekest thou?" And he said:

"I seek my brethren; tell me, I pray thee, where they feed their

flocks." And the man said: "They are departed hence; for I heard them

say, 'Let us go to Dothan.'" And Joseph went after his brethren, and

found them in Dothan. And when they saw him afar off, even before he

came near unto them, they conspired against him to slay him. And they

said one to another: "Behold, this dreamer cometh. Come now, therefore,

and let us slay him, and cast him into some pit, and we will say, 'Some

evil beast hath devoured him:' and we shall see what will become of his

dreams." And Reuben heard it, and he delivered him out of their hands,

and said: "Let us not kill him." And Reuben said unto them, "Shed no

blood, but cast him into this pit that is in the wilderness, and lay no

hand upon him "--that he might rid him out of their hands, to deliver

him to his father again.

And it came to pass, when Joseph was come unto his brethren, that they

stripped Joseph out of his coat, his coat of many colors that was on

him; and they took him, and cast him into a pit: and the pit was empty,

there was no water in it. And they sat down to eat bread: and they

lifted up their eyes and looked, and, behold, a company of Ishmaelites

came from Gilead, with their camels bearing spicery and balm and myrrh,

going to carry it down to Egypt. And Judah said unto his brethren,

"What profit is it if we slay our brother, and conceal his blood? Come,

and let us sell him to the Ishmaelites, and let not our hand be upon

him; for he is our brother and our flesh." And his brethren were

content. Then there passed by Midianites, merchant-men; and they drew

and lifted up Joseph out of the pit, and sold Joseph to the Ishmaelites

for twenty pieces of silver: and they brought Joseph into Egypt.

And Reuben returned unto the pit; and, behold, Joseph was not in the

pit; and he rent his clothes.

And he returned unto his brethren, and said, "The child is not; and I,

whither shall I go?" And they took Joseph's coat, and killed a kid of

the goats, and dipped the coat in the blood; and they sent the coat of

many colors, and they brought it to their father, and said, "This have

we found: know now whether it be thy son's coat or no." And he knew it,

and said, "It is my son's coat; an evil beast hath devoured him; Joseph

is without doubt rent in pieces." And Jacob rent his clothes, and put

sackcloth upon his loins, and mourned for his son many days. And all

his sons and all his daughters rose up to comfort him; but he refused

to be comforted; and he said, "For I will go down into the grave unto

my son mourning." Thus his father wept for him. And the Midianites sold

him into Egypt unto Potiphar, an officer of Pharaoh's, and a captain of

the guard.

* * * * *

And Joseph was brought down to Egypt; and Potiphar, an officer of

Pharaoh, captain of the guard, an Egyptian, bought him of the hands of

the Ishmaelites, and which had brought him down thither. And the Lord

was with Joseph, and he was a prosperous man; and he was in the house

of his master the Egyptian. And his master saw that the Lord was with

him, and that the Lord made all that he did to prosper in his hand. And

Joseph found grace in his sight, and he served him: and he made him

overseer over his house, and all that he had he put into his hand. And

it came to pass from the time that he had made him overseer in his

house, and over all that he had, that the Lord blessed the Egyptian's

house for Joseph's sake; and the blessing of the Lord was upon all that

he had in the house, and in the field. And he left all that he had in

Joseph's hand; and he knew not ought he had, save the bread which he

did eat. And Joseph was a goodly person, and well favored. And it came

to pass that his master's wife falsely accused Joseph. And Joseph's

master took him, and put him into the prison, a place where the king's

prisoners were bound; and he was there in the prison.

But the Lord was with Joseph, and showed him mercy, and gave him favor

in the sight of the keeper of the prison. And the keeper of the prison

committed to Joseph's hand all the prisoners that were in the prison;

and whatsoever they did there, he was the doer of it. The keeper of the

prison looked not to any thing that was under his hand; because the

Lord was with him, and that which he did, the Lord made it to prosper.

And it came to pass after these things, that the butler of the king of

Egypt and his baker had offended their lord the king of Egypt. And

Pharaoh was wroth against two of his officers, and against the chief of

the butlers, and against the chief of the bakers. And he put them in

ward in the house of the captain of the guard, into the prison, the

place where Joseph was bound. And the captain of the guard charged

Joseph with them, and he served them; and they continued a season in

ward.

And they dreamed a dream both of them, each man his dream in one night,

each man according to the interpretation of his dream, the butler and

the baker of the king of Egypt, which were bound in the prison. And

Joseph came in unto them in the morning, and looked upon them, and,

behold, they were sad. And he asked Pharaoh's officers that were with

him in the ward of his lord's house, saying: "Wherefore look ye so

sadly today?" And they said unto him: "We have dreamed a dream, and

there is no interpreter of it." And Joseph said unto them, "Do not

interpretations belong to God? Tell me them, I pray you." And the chief

butler told his dream to Joseph, and said to him, "In my dream, behold

a vine was before me. And in the vine were three branches; and it was

as though it budded and her blossoms shot forth, and the clusters

thereof brought forth ripe grapes. And Pharaoh's cup was in my hand;

and I took the grapes and pressed them into Pharaoh's cup, and I gave

the cup into Pharaoh's hand." And Joseph said unto him, "This is the

interpretation of it: the three branches are three days. Yet within

three days shall Pharaoh lift up thine head, and restore thee unto thy

place; and thou shalt deliver Pharaoh's cup into his hand, after the

former manner when thou wast his butler. But think on me when it shall

be well with thee, and show kindness, I pray thee, unto me, and make

mention of me unto Pharaoh, and bring me out of this house. For indeed

I was stolen away out of the land of the Hebrews, and here also have I

done nothing that they should put me into the dungeon." When the chief

baker saw that the interpretation was good, he said unto Joseph, "I

also was in my dream, and behold I had three white baskets on my head.

And in the uppermost basket there was of all manner of bakemeats for

Pharaoh, and the birds did eat them out of the basket upon my head."

And Joseph answered and said, "This is the interpretation thereof: the

three baskets are three days. Yet within three days shall Pharaoh lift

up thy head from off thee, and shall hang thee on a tree, and the birds

shall eat thy flesh from off thee."

And it came to pass the third day, which was Pharaoh's birthday, that

he made a feast unto all his servants; and he lifted up the head of the

chief butler and of the chief baker among his servants. And he restored

the chief butler unto his butlership again; and he gave the cup into

Pharaoh's hand; but he hanged the chief baker, as Joseph had

interpreted to them. Yet did not the chief butler remember Joseph, but

forgat him.

And it came to pass at the end of two full years, that Pharaoh dreamed;

and, behold, he stood by the river. And, behold, there came up out of

the river seven well-favored kine and fat-fleshed; and they fed in a

meadow. And, behold, seven other kine came up after them out of the

river, ill-favored and lean-fleshed; and stood by the other kine upon

the brink of the river. And the ill-favored and lean-fleshed kine did

eat up the seven well-favored and fat kine. So Pharaoh awoke.

And he slept and dreamed the second time; and, behold, seven ears of

corn came up upon one stalk, rank and good. And, behold, seven thin

ears and blasted with the east wind sprung up after them. And the seven

thin ears devoured the seven rank and full ears. And Pharaoh awoke,

and, behold, it was a dream.

And it came to pass in the morning that his spirit was troubled; and he

sent and called for all the magicians of Egypt, and all the wise men

thereof: and Pharaoh told them his dream; but there was none that could

interpret them unto Pharaoh.

Then spake the chief butler unto Pharaoh, saying, "I do remember my

faults this day: Pharaoh was wroth with his servants, and put me in

ward in the captain of the guard's house, both me and the chief baker:

and we dreamed a dream in one night, I and he: we dreamed each man

according to the interpretation of his dream. And there was there with

us a young man, a Hebrew, servant to the captain of the guard; and we

told him, and he interpreted to us our dreams; to each man according to

his dream he did interpret. And it came to pass, as he interpreted to

us, so it was; me he restored unto mine office, and him he hanged."

Then Pharaoh sent and called Joseph, and they brought him hastily out

of the dungeon: and he shaved himself, and changed his raiment, and

came in unto Pharaoh. And Pharaoh said unto Joseph, "I have dreamed a

dream, and there is none that can interpret it: and I have heard say of

thee that thou canst understand a dream to interpret it." And Joseph

answered Pharaoh, saying, "It is not in me: God shall give Pharaoh an

answer of peace." And Pharaoh said unto Joseph, "In my dream, behold, I

stood upon the bank of the river: and, behold, there came up out of the

river seven kine, fat-fleshed and well-favored; and they fed in a

meadow; and, behold, seven other kine came up after them, poor and very

ill-favored and lean-fleshed, such as I never saw in all the land of

Egypt for badness; and the lean and the ill-favored kine did eat up the

first seven fat kine; and when they had eaten them up, it could not be

known that they had eaten them; but they were still ill-favored, as at

the beginning. So I awoke. And I saw in my dream, and, behold, seven

ears came up in one stalk, full and good; and, behold, seven ears,

withered, thin, and blasted with the east wind, sprung up after them;

and the thin ears devoured the seven good ears: and I told this unto

the magicians; but there was none that could declare it to me."

And Joseph said unto Pharaoh: "The dream of Pharaoh is one: God hath

showed Pharaoh what he is about to do. The seven good kine are seven

years; and the seven good ears are seven years: the dream is one. And

the seven thin and ill-favored kine that came up after them are seven

years; and the seven empty ears blasted with the east wind shall be

seven years of famine. This is the thing which I have spoken unto

Pharaoh: what God is about to do he showeth unto Pharaoh. Behold, there

come seven years of great plenty throughout all the land of Egypt; and

there shall arise after them seven years of famine; and all the plenty

shall be forgotten in the land of Egypt, and the famine shall consume

the land; and the plenty shall not be known in the land by reason of

that famine following; for it shall be very grievous. And for that the

dream was doubled unto Pharaoh twice; it is because the thing is

established by God, and God will shortly bring it to pass. Now

therefore let Pharaoh look out a man discreet and wise, and set him

over the land of Egypt. Let Pharaoh do this, and let him appoint

officers over the land, and take up the fifth part of the land of Egypt

in the seven plenteous years. And let them gather all the food of those

good years that come, and lay up corn under the hand of Pharaoh, and

let them keep food in the cities. And that food shall be for store to

the land against the seven years of famine, which shall be in the land

of Egypt; that the land perish not through famine."

And the thing was good in the eyes of Pharaoh, and in the eyes of all

his servants. And Pharaoh said unto his servants, "Can we find such a

one as this is, a man in whom the spirit of God is?" And Pharaoh said

unto Joseph, "Forasmuch as God hath showed thee all this, there is none

so discreet and wise as thou art: Thou shalt be over my house, and

according unto thy word shall all my people be ruled: only in the

throne will I be greater than thou." And Pharaoh said unto Joseph,

"See, I have set thee over all the land of Egypt." And Pharaoh took off

his ring from his hand, and put it upon Joseph's hand, and arrayed him

in vestures of fine linen, and put a gold chain about his neck; and he

made him to ride in the second chariot which he had, and they cried

before him, "Bow the knee": and he made him ruler over all the land of

Egypt. And Pharaoh said unto Joseph, "I am Pharaoh, and without thee

shall no man lift up his hand or foot in all the land of Egypt." And

Pharaoh called Joseph's name Zaphnath-paaneah; and he gave him to wife

Asenath, the daughter of Poti-pherah, priest of On. And Joseph went out

over all the land of Egypt.

And Joseph was thirty years old when he stood before Pharaoh king of

Egypt. And Joseph went out from the presence of Pharaoh, and went

throughout all the land of Egypt. And in the seven plenteous years the

earth brought forth by handfuls. And he gathered up all the food of the

seven years, which were in the land of Egypt, and laid up the food in

the cities: the food of the field, which was round about every city,

laid he up in the same. And Joseph gathered corn as the sand of the

sea, very much, until he left numbering; for it was without number. And

unto Joseph were born two sons, befare the years of famine came, which

Asenath, the daughter of Poti-pherah, priest of On, bare unto him. And

Joseph called the name of the firstborn Manasseh: "For God," said he,

"hath made me forget all my toil, and all my father's house." And the

name of the second called he Ephraim: "For God hath caused me to be

fruitful in the land of my affliction."

And the seven years of plenteousness that was in the land of Egypt were

ended. And the seven years of dearth began to come, according as Joseph

had said: and the dearth was in all lands; but in all the land of Egypt

there was bread. And when all the land of Egypt was famished, the

people cried to Pharaoh for bread: and Pharaoh said unto all the

Egyptians, "Go unto Joseph; what he saith to you, do." And the famine

was over all the face of the earth: and Joseph opened all the

storehouses, and sold unto the Egyptians; and the famine waxed sore in

the land of Egypt. And all countries came into Egypt to Joseph for to

buy corn; because that the famine was so sore in all lands.

Now when Jacob saw that there was corn in Egypt, Jacob said unto his

sons: "Why do ye look one upon another?" And he said, "Behold, I have

heard that there is corn in Egypt; get you down thither, and buy for us

from thence; that we may live, and not die."

And Joseph's ten brethren went down to buy corn in Egypt. But Benjamin,

Joseph's brother, Jacob sent not with his brethren; for he said, "Lest

peradventure mischief befall him." And the sons of Israel came to buy

corn among those that came; for the famine was in the land of Canaan.

And Joseph was the governor over the land, and he it was that sold to

all the people of the land; and Joseph's brethren came, and bowed down

themselves before him with their faces to the earth. And Joseph saw his

brethren, and he knew them, but made himself strange unto them, and

spake roughly unto them; and he said unto them: "Whence come ye?" And

they said: "From the land of Canaan to buy food." And Joseph knew his

brethren, but they knew not him. And Joseph remembered the dreams which

he dreamed of them, and said unto them: "Ye are spies; to see the

nakedness of the land ye are come." And they said unto him: "Nay, my

lord, but to buy food are thy servants come. We are all one man's sons;

we are true men, thy servants are no spies." And he said unto them:

"Nay, but to see the nakedness of the land ye are come." And they said:

"Thy servants are twelve brethren, sons of one man in the land of

Canaan; and, behold, the youngest is this day with our father, and one

is not." And Joseph said unto them: "That is it that I spake unto you,

saying, 'Ye are spies:' hereby ye shall be proved: by the life of

Pharaoh ye shall not go forth hence, except your youngest brother come

hither. Send one of you, and let him fetch your brother, and ye shall

be kept in prison, that your words may be proved, whether there be any

truth in you; or else by the life of Pharaoh surely ye are spies." And

he put them all together into ward three days. And Joseph said unto

them the third day:

"This do, and live; for I fear God: if ye be true men, let one of your

brethren be bound in the house of your prison; go ye, carry corn for

the famine of your houses; but bring your youngest brother unto me; so

shall your words be verified, and ye shall not die." And they did so.

And they said one to another: "We are verily guilty concerning our

brother, in that we saw the anguish of his soul, when he besought us,

and we would not hear; therefore is this distress come upon us." And

Reuben answered them, saying, "Spake I not unto you, saying, 'Do not

sin against the child;' and ye would not hear? therefore, behold, also

his blood is required." And they knew not that Joseph understood them;

for he spake unto them by an interpreter. And he turned himself about

from them, and wept; and returned to them again, and communed with

them, and took from them Simeon, and bound him before their eyes.

Then Joseph commanded to fill their sacks with corn, and to restore

every man's money into his sack, and to give them provision for the

way: and thus did he unto them. And they laded their asses with the

corn and departed thence. And as one of them opened his sack to give

his ass provender in the inn, he espied his money; for behold it was in

his sack's mouth. And he said unto his brethren, "My money is restored;

and, lo, it is even in my sack:" and their heart failed them, and they

were afraid, saying one to another, "What is this that God hath done

unto us?"

And they came unto Jacob their father unto the land of Canaan, and told

him all that befell unto them, saying: "The man who is the lord of the

land spoke roughly to us and took us for spies of the country. And we

said unto him, 'We are true men; we are no spies; we be twelve

brethren, sons of our father; one is not and the youngest is this day

with our father in the land of Canaan.' And the man, the lord of the

country, said unto us: 'Hereby shall I know that ye are true men:

leave one of your brethren here with me, and take food for the famine

of your households, and be gone; and bring your youngest brother unto

me, then shall I know that ye are no spies but that ye are true men; so

will I deliver you your brother and ye shall traffick in the land.'"

And it came to pass as they emptied their sacks, that, behold, every

man's bundle of money was in his sack; and when both they and their

father saw the bundles of money, they were afraid. And Jacob their

father said unto them: "Me have ye bereaved of my children: Joseph is

not, and Simeon is not, and ye will take Benjamin away; all these

things are against me." And Reuben spake unto his father, saying: "Slay

my two sons, if I bring him not to thee; deliver him into my hand, and

I will bring him to thee again." And he said: "My son shall not go down

with you; for his brother is dead, and he is left alone; if mischief

befall him by the way in the which ye go, then shall ye bring down my

gray hairs with sorrow to the grave."

And the famine was sore in the land. And it came to pass, when they had

eaten up the corn which they had brought out of Egypt, their father

said unto them: "Go again, buy us a little food." And Judah spake unto

him saying:

"The man did solemnly protest unto us saying, 'Ye shall not see my

face, except your brother be with you.' If thou wilt send our brother

with us, we will go down and buy thee food. But if thou wilt not send

him, we will not go down; for the man said unto us, 'Ye shall not see

my face, except your brother be with you.'" And Israel said: "Wherefore

dealt ye so ill with me as to tell the man whether ye had yet a

brother?" And they said, "The man asked us straitly of our state and of

our kindred, saying, 'Is your father yet alive? Have ye another

brother?' And we told him according to the tenor of these words. Could

we certainly know that he would say, 'Bring your brother down?'" And

Judah said unto Israel his father, "Send the lad with me, and we will

arise and go; that we may live and not die, both we and thou and also

our little ones. I will be surety for him: if I bring him not unto thee

and set him before thee, then let me bear the blame forever. For except

we had lingered, surely now we had returned this second time." And

their father Israel said unto them, "If it must be so now, do this:

take of the best fruits in the land in your vessels, and carry down the

man a present, a little balm, and a little honey, spices and myrrh,

nuts and almonds; and take double money in your hand; and the money

that was brought again in the mouth of your sacks, carry it again in

your hand; peradventure it was an oversight. Take also your brother,

and arise, go again unto the man; and God Almighty give you mercy

before the man, that he may send away your other brother and Benjamin.

If I be bereaved of my children, I am bereaved."

And the men took that present, and they took double money in their

hand, and Benjamin; and rose up, and went down to Egypt, and stood

before Joseph. And when Joseph saw Benjamin with them, he said to the

ruler of his house, "Bring these men home, and slay, and make ready;

for these men shall dine with me at noon." And the man did as Joseph

bade; and the man brought the men into Joseph's house. And the men were

afraid, because they were brought into Joseph's house; and they said,

"Because of the money that was returned in our sacks at the first time

are we brought in; that he may seek occasion against us, and fall upon

us, and take us for bondmen, and our asses." And they came near to the

steward of Joseph's house, and they communed with him at the door of

the house, and said, "O sir, we came indeed down at the first time to

buy food; and it came to pass, when we came to the inn, that we opened

our sacks, and, behold; every man's money was in the mouth of his sack,

our money in full weight; and we have brought it again in our hand. And

other money have we brought down in our hands to buy food; we cannot

tell who put our money in our sacks." And he said: "Peace be to you,

fear not; your God, and the God of your father, hath given you treasure

in your sacks; I had your money." And he brought Simeon out unto them.

And the man brought the men into Joseph's house, and gave them water,

and they washed their feet; and he gave their asses provender. And they

made ready the present against Joseph came at noon; for they heard that

they should eat bread there.

And when Joseph came home, they brought him the present which was in

their hand into the house, and bowed themselves to him to the earth.

And he asked them of their welfare, and said: "Is your father well, the

old man of whom ye spake? Is he yet alive?" And they answered: "Thy

servant our father is in good health, he is yet alive." And they bowed

down their heads, and made obeisance. And he lifted up his eyes, and

saw his brother Benjamin, his mother's son, and said: "Is this your

younger brother, of whom ye spake unto me?" And he said, "God be

gracious unto thee, my son." And Joseph made haste; for his bowels did

yearn upon his brother; and he sought where to weep; and he entered

into his chamber, and wept there. And he washed his face, and went out,

and refrained himself, and said, "Set on bread." And they set on for

him by himself, and for them by themselves, and for the Egyptians,

which did eat with him, by themselves; because the Egyptians might not

eat bread with the Hebrews; for that is an abomination unto the

Egyptians. And they sat before him, the firstborn according to his

birthright, and the youngest according to his youth; and the men

marveled one at another. And he took and sent messes unto them from

before him, but Benjamin's mess was five times as much as any of

theirs. And they drank, and were merry with him.

And he commanded the steward of his house, saying: "Fill the men's

sacks with food, as much as they can carry, and put every man's money

in his sack's mouth. And put my cup, the silver cup, in the sack's

mouth of the youngest, and his corn money." And he did according to the

word that Joseph had spoken. As soon as the morning was light, the men

were sent away, they and their asses. And when they were gone out of

the city, and not yet far off, Joseph said unto his steward, "Up,

follow after the men; and when thou dost overtake them, say unto them,

'Wherefore have ye rewarded evil for good? Is not this it in which my

lord drinketh, and whereby indeed he divineth? ye have done evil in so

doing.'"

And he overtook them, and he spake unto them these same words. And they

said unto him, "Wherefore saith my lord these words? God forbid that

thy servants should do according to this thing: behold, the money,

which was found in our sacks' mouths, we brought again unto thee out of

the land of Canaan: how then should we steal out of thy lord's house

silver or gold? With whosoever of thy servants it be found, both let

him die, and we also will be my lord's bondmen." And he said, "Now also

let it be according unto your words: he with whom it is found shall be

my servant; and ye shall be blameless." Then they speedily took down

every man his sack to the ground, and opened every man his sack. And he

searched, and began at the eldest and left at the youngest: and the cup

was found in Benjamin's sack. Then they rent their clothes, and laded

every man his ass, and returned to the city.

And Judah and his brethren came to Joseph's house, for he was yet

there; and they fell before him on the ground. And Joseph said unto

them: "What deed is this that ye have done? wot ye not that such a man

as I can certainly divine?" And Judah said: "What shall we say unto my

lord? what shall we speak? or how shall we clear ourselves? God hath

found out the iniquity of thy servants; behold, we are my lord's

servants, both we, and he also with whom the cup is found." And he

said: "God forbid that I should do so; but the man in whose hand the

cup is found, he shall be my servant; and as for you, get you up in

peace unto your father."

Then Judah came near unto him, and said: "Oh my lord, let thy servant,

I pray thee, speak a word in my lord's ears, and let not thine anger

burn against thy servant, for thou art even as Pharaoh. My lord asked

his servants, saying, 'Have ye a father, or a brother?' And we said

unto my lord, 'We have a father, an old man, and a child of his old

age, a little one; and his brother is dead, and he alone is left of his

mother, and his father loveth him.' And thou saidst unto thy servants,

'Bring him down unto me, that I may set mine eyes upon him.' And we

said unto my lord, 'The lad cannot leave his father; for if he should

leave his father, his father would die.' And thou saidst unto thy

servants, 'Except your youngest brother came down with you, ye shall

see my face no more.' And it came to pass when we came up unto thy

servant my father, we told him the words of my lord. And our father

said, 'Go again, and buy us a little food.' And we said, 'We cannot go

down. If our youngest brother be with us, then will we go down; for we

may not see the man's face except our youngest brother be with us!' And

thy servant my father said to us, 'Ye know that my wife bare me two

sons; and the one went out from me, and I said, "Surely he is torn in

pieces," and I saw him not since. And if ye take this also from me and

mischief befall him, ye shall bring down my gray hairs with sorrow to

the grave.' Now therefore when I come to thy servant my father, and the

lad be not with us, seeing that his life is bound up in the lad's life,

it shall come to pass, when he seeth that the lad is not with us, that

he will die: and thy servants shall bring down the gray hairs of thy

servant our father with sorrow to the grave. For thy servant became

surety for the lad unto my father, saying, 'If I bring him not unto

thee, then I shall bear the blame to my father forever.' Now therefore,

I pray thee, let thy servant abide instead of the lad a bondman to my

lord, and let the lad go up with his brethren. For how shall I go up to

my father, and the lad be not with me? lest peradventure I see the evil

that shall come on my father."

Then Joseph could not refrain himself before all them that stood by

him; and he cried, "Cause every man to go out from me." And there stood

no man with him, while Joseph made himself known unto his brethren. And

he wept aloud: and the Egyptians and the house of Pharaoh heard. And

Joseph said unto his brethren, "I am Joseph; doth my father yet live?"

And his brethren could not answer him; for they were troubled at his

presence. And Joseph said unto his brethren, "Come near to me, I pray

you." And they came near. And he said, "I am Joseph your brother, whom

ye sold into Egypt. Now therefore be not grieved, nor angry with

yourselves, that ye sold me hither: for God did send me before you to

preserve life. For these two years hath the famine been in the land:

and yet there are five years, in the which there shall neither be

earing nor harvest. And God sent me before you to preserve you a

posterity in the earth, and to save your lives by a great deliverance.

So now it was not you that sent me hither, but God; and he hath made me

a father to Pharaoh, and lord of all his house, and a ruler throughout

all the land of Egypt. Haste ye, and go up to my father, and say unto

him, 'Thus said thy son Joseph, God hath made me lord of all Egypt:

come down unto me, tarry not: and thou shalt dwell in the land of

Goshen, and thou shalt be near unto me, thou, and thy children, and thy

children's children, and thy flocks, and thy herds, and all that thou

hast; and there will I nourish thee; for yet there are five years of

famine; lest thou, and thy household, and all that thou hast, come to

poverty.' And, behold, your eyes see, and the eyes of my brother

Benjamin, that it is my mouth that speaketh unto you. And ye shall tell

my father of all my glory in Egypt, and of all that ye have seen; and

ye shall haste and bring down my father hither." And he fell upon his

brother Benjamin's neck, and wept; and Benjamin wept upon his neck.

Moreover, he kissed all his brethren, and wept upon them, and after

that his brethren talked with him.

And the fame thereof was heard in Pharaoh's house, saying, "Joseph's

brethren are come;" and it pleased Pharaoh well, and his servants. And

Pharaoh said unto Joseph: "Say unto thy brethren, 'This do ye; lade

your beasts, and go, get you unto the land of Canaan; and take your

father and your households, and come unto me, and I will give you the

good of the land of Egypt, and ye shall eat the fat of the land.' Now

thou art commanded, this do ye; take you wagons out of the land of

Egypt for your little ones, and for your wives, and bring your father,

and come.' Also regard not your stuff; for the good of all the land of

Egypt is yours." And the children of Israel did so; and Joseph gave

them wagons, according to the commandment of Pharaoh, and gave them

provision for the way. To all of them he gave each man changes of

raiment; but to Benjamin he gave three hundred pieces of silver, and

five changes of raiment. And to his father he sent after this manner;

ten asses laden with the good things of Egypt, and ten she asses laden

with corn and bread and meat for his father by the way. So he sent his

brethren away, and they departed; and he said unto them, "See that ye

fall not out by the way."

And they went up out of Egypt, and came into the land of Canaan unto

Jacob their father, and told him, saying, "Joseph is yet alive, and he

is governor over all the land of Egypt." And Jacob's heart fainted, for

he believed them not. And they told him all the words of Joseph, which

he had said unto them: and when he saw the wagons which Joseph had sent

to carry him, the spirit of Jacob their father revived: and Israel

said, "It is enough; Joseph my son is yet alive: I will go and see him

before I die."

And Israel took his journey with all that he had, and came to Beer-

sheba, and offered sacrifices unto the God of his father Isaac. And God

spake unto Israel in the visions of the night, and said, "Jacob,

Jacob." And he said, "Here am I." And he said, "I am God, the God of

thy father: fear not to go down into Egypt; for I will there make of

thee a great nation: I will go down with thee into Egypt; and I will

also surely bring thee up again: and Joseph shall put his hand upon

thine eyes." And Jacob rose up from Beer-sheba: and the sons of Israel

carried Jacob their father, and their little ones, and their wives, in

the wagons which Pharaoh had sent to carry him. And they took their

cattle, and their goods, which they had gotten in the land of Canaan,

and came into Egypt, Jacob, and all his seed with him: his sons, and

his sons' sons with him, his daughters, and his sons' daughters, and

all his seed brought he with him into Egypt.

And he sent Judah before him unto Joseph, to direct his face unto

Goshen; and they came into the land of Goshen. And Joseph made ready

his chariot, and went up to meet Israel his father, to Goshen, and

presented himself unto him; and he fell on his neck, and wept on his

neck a good while. And Israel said unto Joseph: "Now let me die, since

I have seen thy face, because thou art yet alive." And Joseph said unto

his brethren, and unto his father's house: "I will go up, and show

Pharaoh, and say unto him, 'My brethren, and my father's house, which

were in the land of Canaan, are come unto me; and the men are

shepherds, for their trade hath been to feed cattle; and they have

brought their flocks, and their herds, and all that they have.' And it

shall come to pass, when Pharaoh shall call you, and shall say, 'What

is your occupation?' that ye shall say, 'Thy servants' trade hath been

about cattle from our youth even until now, both we, and also our

fathers:' that ye may dwell in the land of Goshen; for every shepherd

is an abomination unto the Egyptians."

Then Joseph came and told Pharaoh, and said: "My father and my

brethren, and their flocks, and their herds, and all that they have,

are come out of the land of Canaan; and, behold, they are in the land

of Goshen." And he took some of his brethren, even five men, and

presented them unto Pharaoh. And Pharaoh said unto his brethren: "What

is your occupation?" And they said unto Pharaoh: "Thy servants are

shepherds, both we, and also our fathers." They said moreover unto

Pharaoh, "For to sojourn in the land are we come; for thy servants have

no pasture for their flocks; for the famine is sore in the land of

Canaan: now therefore, we pray thee, let thy servants dwell in the land

of Goshen." And Pharaoh spake unto Joseph, saying: "Thy father and thy

brethren are come unto thee: the land of Egypt is before thee; in the

best of the land make thy father and brethren to dwell; in the land of

Goshen let them dwell: and if thou knowest any men of activity among

them, then make them rulers over my cattle." And Joseph brought in

Jacob his father, and set him before Pharaoh: and Jacob blessed

Pharaoh. And Pharaoh said unto Jacob, "How old art thou?" And Jacob

said unto Pharaoh, "The days of the years of my pilgrimage are an

hundred and thirty years: few and evil have the days of the years of my

life been, and have not attained unto the days of the years of the life

of my fathers in the days of their pilgrimage." And Jacob blessed

Pharaoh, and went out from before Pharaoh.

And Joseph placed his father and his brethren, and gave them a

possession in the land of Egypt, in the best of the land, in the land

of Rameses, as Pharaoh had commanded. And Joseph nourished his father

and his brethren, and all his father's household, with bread, according

to their families.

And there was no bread in all the land; for the famine was very sore,

so that the land of Egypt and all the land of Canaan fainted by reason

of the famine. And Joseph gathered up all the money that was found in

the land of Egypt, and in the land of Canaan, for the corn which they

bought; and Joseph brought the money into Pharaoh's house. And when

money failed in the land of Egypt, and in the land of Canaan, all the

Egyptians came unto Joseph, and said, "Give us bread, for why should we

die in thy presence? for the money faileth." And Joseph said, "Give

your cattle, and I will give you for your cattle, if money fail." And

they brought their cattle unto Joseph; and Joseph gave them bread in

exchange for horses, and for the flocks, and for the cattle of the

herds, and for the asses; and he fed them with bread for all their

cattle for that year. When that year was ended, they came unto him the

second year, and said unto him, "We will not hide it from my lord, how

that our money is spent; my lord also hath our herds of cattle; there

is not aught left in the sight of my lord, but our bodies, and our

lands. Wherefore shall we die before thine eyes, both we and our land?

buy us and our land for bread, and we and our land will be servants

unto Pharaoh; and give us seed, that we may live, and not die, that the

land be not desolate."

And Joseph bought all the land of Egypt for Pharaoh; for the Egyptians

sold every man his field, because the famine prevailed over them. So

the land became Pharaoh's. And as for the people, he removed them to

cities from one end of the borders of Egypt even to the other end

thereof. Only the land of the priests bought he not; for the priests

had a portion assigned them of Pharaoh, and did eat their portion which

Pharaoh gave them. Wherefore they sold not their lands. Then Joseph

said unto the people: "Behold, I have bought you this day and your land

for Pharaoh; lo, here is seed for you, and ye shall sow the land. And

it shall come to pass in the increase, that ye shall give the fifth

part unto Pharaoh, and four parts shall be your own, for seed of the

field, and for your food, and for them of your households, and for food

for your little ones." And they said: "Thou hast saved our lives: let

us find grace in the sight of my lord, and we will be Pharaoh's

servants." And Joseph made it a law over the land of Egypt unto this

day, that Pharaoh should have the fifth part; except the land of the

priests only, which became not Pharaoh's. And Israel dwelt in the land

of Egypt, in the country of Goshen; and they had possessions therein,

and grew, and multiplied exceedingly. And Jacob lived in the land of

Egypt seventeen years; so the whole age of Jacob was an hundred forty

and seven years. And the time drew nigh that Israel must die, and he

called his son Joseph, and said unto him, "If now I have found grace in

thy sight, put, I pray thee, thy hand under my thigh, and deal kindly

and truly with me; bury me not, I pray thee, in Egypt; but I will lie

with my fathers, and thou shalt carry me out of Egypt, and bury me in

their burying-place." And he said, "I will do as thou hast said." And

he said, "Swear unto me." And he sware unto him. And Israel bowed

himself upon the bed's head.

And it came to pass after these things, that one told Joseph, "Behold,

thy father is sick;" and he took with him his two sons, Manasseh and

Ephraim. And one told Jacob, and said, "Behold, thy son Joseph cometh

unto thee;" and Israel strengthened himself, and sat upon the bed. And

Jacob said unto Joseph, "God Almighty appeared unto me at Luz in the

land of Canaan, and blessed me, and said unto me, 'Behold, I will make

thee fruitful, and multiply thee, and I will make of thee a multitude

of people; and will give this land to thy seed after thee for an

everlasting possession.'

"And now thy two sons, Ephraim and Manasseh, which were born unto thee

in the land of Egypt before I came unto thee into Egypt, are mine; as

Reuben and Simeon, they shall be mine. And thy issue, which thou

begettest after them, shall be thine, and shall be called after the

name of their brethren in their inheritance. And as for me, when I came

from Padan, Rachel died by me in the land of Canaan in the way, when

yet there was but a little way to come unto Ephrath: and I buried her

there in the way of Ephrath; the same is Beth-lehem." And Israel beheld

Joseph's sons, and said, "Who are these?" And Joseph said unto his

father, "They are my sons, whom God hath given me in this place." And

he said, "Bring them, I pray thee, unto me, and I will bless them." Now

the eyes of Israel were dim for age, so that he could not see. And he

brought them near unto him; and he kissed them, and embraced them. And

Israel said unto Joseph, "I had not thought to see thy face, and, lo,

God hath showed me also thy seed." And Joseph brought them out from

between his knees, and he bowed himself with his face to the earth. And

Joseph took them both, Ephraim in his right hand toward Israel's left

hand, and Manasseh in his left hand toward Israel's right hand, and

brought them near unto him. And Israel stretched out his right hand,

and laid it upon Ephraim's head, who was the younger, and his left hand

upon Manasseh's head, guiding his hands wittingly; for Manasseh was the

firstborn.

And he blessed Joseph, and said, "God, before whom my fathers Abraham

and Isaac did walk, the God which fed me all my life long unto this

day, the Angel which redeemed me from all evil, bless the lads; and let

my name be named on them, and the name of my fathers Abraham and Isaac;

and let them grow into a multitude in the midst of the earth." And when

Joseph saw that his father laid his right hand upon the head of

Ephraim, it displeased him; and he held up his father's hand, to remove

it from Ephraim's head unto Manasseh's head. And Joseph said unto his

father:

"Not so, my father, for this is the firstborn; put thy right hand upon

his head." And his father refused, and said, "I know it, my son, I know

it; he also shall become a people, and he also shall be great; but

truly his younger brother shall be greater than he, and his seed shall

become a multitude of nations." And he blessed them that day, saying,

"In thee shall Israel bless, saying, 'God make thee as Ephraim and as

Manasseh;'" and he set Ephraim before Manasseh. And Israel said unto

Joseph, "Behold, I die; but God shall be with you, and bring you again

unto the land of your fathers. Moreover, I have given to thee one

portion above thy brethren, which I took out of the hand of the Amorite

with my sword and with my bow."

And Jacob called unto his sons and blessed them; every one according to

his blessing he blessed them. And he charged them, and said unto them:

"I am to be gathered unto my people. Bury me with my fathers in the

cave that is in the field of Ephron the Hittite, in the cave that is in

the field of Machpelah, which is before Mamre, in the land of Canaan,

which Abraham bought with the field of Ephron the Hittite for a

possession of a buryingplace. There they buried Abraham and Sarah his

wife; there they buried Isaac and Rebekah his wife; and there I buried

Leah. The purchase of the field and of the cave that is therein was

from the children of Heth."

And when Jacob had made an end of commanding his sons, he gathered up

his feet into the bed, and yielded up the ghost, and was gathered unto

his people.

And Joseph fell upon his father's face, and wept upon him, and kissed

him. And Joseph commanded his servants the physicians to embalm his

father; and the physicians embalmed Israel. And forty days were

fulfilled for him; for so are fulfilled the days of those which are

embalmed; and the Egyptians mourned for him threescore and ten days.

And when the days of his mourning were past, Joseph spake unto the

house of Pharaoh, saying, "If now I have found grace in your eyes,

speak, I pray you, in the ears of Pharaoh, saying, 'My father made me

swear, saying, "Lo, I die: in my grave which I have digged for me in

the land of Canaan, there shalt thou bury me." Now therefore let me go

up, I pray thee, and bury my father, and I will come again.'" And

Pharaoh said, "Go up, and bury thy father, according as he made thee

swear."

And Joseph went up to bury his father; and with him went up all the

servants of Pharaoh, the elders of his house, and all the elders of the

land of Egypt. And all the house of Joseph, and his brethren, and his

father's house; only their little ones, and their flocks, and their

herds, they left in the land of Goshen. And there went up with him both

chariots and horsemen: and it was a very great company. And they came

to the threshingfloor of Atad, which is beyond Jordan, and there they

mourned with a great and very sore lamentation; and he made a mourning

for his father seven days. And when the inhabitants of the land, the

Canaanites, saw the mourning in the floor of Atad, they said, "This is

a grievous mourning to the Egyptians;" wherefore the name of it was

called Abel-mizraim, which is beyond Jordan. And his sons did unto him

according as he commanded them; for his sons carried him into the land

of Canaan, and buried him in the cave of the field of Machpelah, which

Abraham bought with the field for a possession of a buryingplace of

Ephron the Hittite, before Mamre.

And Joseph returned into Egypt, he, and his brethren, and all that went

up with him to bury his father, after he had buried his father. And

when Joseph's brethren saw that their father was dead, they said,

"Joseph will peradventure hate us, and will certainly requite us all

the evil which we did unto him." And they sent a messenger unto Joseph,

saying, "Thy father did command before he died, saying: 'So shall ye

say unto Joseph, "Forgive, I pray thee now, the trespass of thy

brethren, and their sin; for they did unto thee evil."' And now, we

pray thee, forgive the trespass of the servants of the God of thy

father." And Joseph wept when they spake unto him. And his brethren

also went and fell down before his face; and they said," Behold, we be

thy servants." And Joseph said unto them, "Fear not; for am I in the

place of God? But as for you, ye thought evil against me; but God meant

it unto good, to bring to pass, as it is this day, to save much people

alive. Now therefore fear ye not. I will nourish you, and your little

ones." And he comforted them, and spake kindly unto them.

And Joseph dwelt in Egypt, he, and his father's house; and Joseph lived

an hundred and ten years. And Joseph saw Ephraim's children of the

third generation; the children also of Machir the son of Manasseh were

brought up upon Joseph's knees. And Joseph said unto his brethren, "I

die; and God will surely visit you, and bring you out of this land unto

the land which he sware to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob." And Joseph

took an oath of the children of Israel, saying, "God will surely visit

you, and ye shall carry up my bones from hence." So Joseph died, being

an hundred and ten years old. And they embalmed him, and he was put in

a coffin in Egypt.

THE STORY OF SAMSON

And the woman bare a son, and called his name Samson: and the child

grew, and the Lord blessed him. And the Spirit of the Lord began to

move him at times in the camp of Dan between Zorah and Eshtaol.

And Samson went down to Timnath, and saw a woman in Timnath of the

daughters of the Philistines. And he came up, and told his father and

his mother, and said, "I have seen a woman in Timnath of the daughters

of the Philistines: now therefore get her for me to wife."

Then his father and his mother said unto him, "Is there never a woman

among the daughters of thy brethren, or among all my people, that thou

goest to take a wife of the uncircumcised Philistines? "And Samson said

unto his father," Get her for me; for she pleaseth me well."

But his father and his mother knew not that it was of the Lord, that he

sought an occasion against the Philistines: for at that time the

Philistines had dominion over Israel.

Then went Samson down, and his father and his mother, to Timnath, and

came to the vineyards of Timnath: and, behold, a young lion roared

against him. And the Spirit of the Lord came mightily upon him, and he

rent him as he would have rent a kid, and he had nothing in his hand:

but he told not his father or his mother what he had done. And he went

down, and talked with the woman; and she pleased Samson well.

And after a time he returned to take her, and he turned aside to see

the carcass of the lion: and, behold, there was a swarm of bees and

honey in the carcass of the lion. And he took thereof in his hands, and

went on eating, and came to his father and mother, and he gave them,

and they did eat: but he told not them that he had taken the honey out

of the carcass of the lion.

So his father went down unto the woman: and Samson made there a feast;

for so used the young men to do. And it came to pass, when they saw

him, that they brought thirty companions to be with him.

And Samson said unto them, "I will now put forth a riddle unto you: if

ye can certainly declare it me within the seven days of the feast, and

find it out, then I will give you thirty sheets and thirty change of

garments: But if ye cannot declare it me, then shall ye give me thirty

sheets and thirty change of garments." And they said unto him, "Put

forth thy riddle, that we may hear it." And he said unto them, "Out of

the eater came forth meat, and out of the strong came forth sweetness."

And they could not in three days expound the riddle. And it came to

pass on the seventh day, that they said unto Samson's wife, "Entice thy

husband, that he may declare unto us the riddle, lest we burn thee and

thy father's house with fire: have ye called us to take that we have?

is it not so?" And Samson's wife wept before him, and said, "Thou dost

but hate me, and lovest me not: thou hast put forth a riddle unto the

children of my people, and hast not told it me." And he said unto her,

"Behold, I have not told it my father nor my mother, and shall I tell

it thee?" And she wept before him the seven days, while their feast

lasted: and it came to pass on the seventh day, that he told her,

because she lay sore upon him: and she told the riddle to the children

of her people. And the men of the city said unto him on the seventh day

before the sun went down, "What is sweeter than honey? and what is

stronger than a lion?" And he said unto them, "If ye had not plowed

with my heifer, ye had not found out my riddle."

And the Spirit of the Lord came upon him, and he went down to Ashkelon,

and slew thirty men of them, and took their spoil, and gave change of

garments unto them which expounded the riddle. And his anger was

kindled, and he went up to his father's house. But Samson's wife was

given to his companion, whom he had used as his friend.

But it came to pass within a while after, in the time of wheat harvest,

that Samson visited his wife with a kid; and he said, "I will go in to

my wife into the chamber." But her father would not suffer him to go

in. And her father said, "I verily thought that thou hadst utterly

hated her; therefore I gave her to thy companion: is not her younger

sister fairer than she? take her, I pray thee, instead of her."

And Samson said concerning them, "Now shall I be more blameless than

the Philistines, though I do them a displeasure." And Samson went and

caught three hundred foxes, and took firebrands, and turned tail to

tail, and put a firebrand in the midst between two tails. And when he

had set the brands on fire, he let them go into the standing corn of

the Philistines, and burnt up both the shocks, and also the standing

corn, with the vineyards and olives.

Then the Philistines said, "Who hath done this?" And they answered,

"Samson, the son-in-law of the Timnite, because he had taken his wife,

and given her to his companion." And the Philistines came up, and burnt

her and her father with fire.

And Samson said unto them, "Though ye have done this, yet will I be

avenged of you, and after that I will cease." And he smote them hip and

thigh with a great slaughter: and he went down and dwelt in the top of

the rock Etam.

Then the Philistines went up, and pitched in Judah, and spread

themselves in Lehi. And the men of Judah said, "Why are ye come up

against us?" And they answered, "To bind Samson are we come up, to do

to him as he hath done to us." Then three thousand men of Judah went to

the top of the rock Etam, and said to Samson, "Knowest thou not that

the Philistines are rulers over us? what is this that thou hast done

unto us?" And he said unto them, "As they did unto me, so have I done

unto them." And they said unto him, "We are come down to bind thee,

that we may deliver thee into the hand of the Philistines." And Samson

said unto them, "Swear unto me, that ye will not fall upon me

yourselves." And they spake unto him, saying, "No; but we will bind

thee fast, and deliver thee into their hand: but surely we will not

kill thee." And they bound him with two new cords, and brought him up

from the rock.

And when he came unto Lehi, the Philistines shouted against him: and

the Spirit of the Lord came mightily upon him, and the cords that were

upon his arms became as flax that was burnt with fire, and his bands

loosed from off his hands. And he found a new jawbone of an ass, and

put forth his hand, and took it, and slew a thousand men therewith. And

Samson said, "With the jawbone of an ass, heaps upon heaps, with the

jaw of an ass have I slain a thousand men." And it came to pass, when

he had made an end of speaking, that he cast away the jawbone out of

his hand, and called that place Ramath-lehi.

And he was sore athirst, and called on the Lord, and said, "Thou hast

given this great deliverance into the hand of thy servant: and now

shall I die for thirst, and fall into the hand of the uncircumcised?"

But God clave a hollow place that was in the jaw, and there came water

thereout; and when he had drunk, his spirit came again, and he revived:

wherefore he called the name thereof Enhakkore, which is in Lehi unto

this day. And he judged Israel in the days of the Philistines twenty

years.

Then went Samson to Gaza. And it was told the Gazites, saying, "Samson

is come hither." And they compassed him in, and laid wait for him all

night in the gate of the city, and were quiet all the night, saying,

"In the morning, when it is day, we shall kill him." And Samson lay

till midnight, and arose at midnight, and took the doors of the gate of

the city, and the two posts, and went away with them, bar and all, and

put them upon his shoulders, and carried them up to the top of a hill

that is before Hebron.

And it came to pass afterward, that he loved a woman in the valley of

Sorek, whose name was Delilah. And the lords of the Philistines came up

unto her, and said unto her, "Entice him, and see wherein his great

strength lieth, and by what means we may prevail against him, that we

may bind him to afflict him: and we will give thee every one of us

eleven hundred pieces of silver."

And Delilah said to Samson, "Tell me, I pray thee, wherein thy great

strength lieth, and wherewith thou mightest be bound to afflict thee."

And Samson said unto her, "If they bind me with seven green withes that

were never dried, then shall I be weak, and be as another man." Then

the lords of the Philistines brought up to her seven green withes which

had not been dried, and she bound him with them. Now there were men

lying in wait, abiding with her in the chamber. And she said unto him,

"The Philistines be upon thee, Samson." And he brake the withes, as a

thread of tow is broken when it toucheth the fire. So his strength was

not known. And Delilah said unto Samson, "Behold, thou hast mocked me,

and told me lies: now tell me, I pray thee, wherewith thou mightest be

bound." And he said unto her, "If they bind me fast with new ropes that

never were occupied, then shall I be weak, and be as another man."

Delilah therefore took new ropes, and bound him therewith, and said

unto him, "The Philistines be upon thee, Samson." And there were liers

in wait abiding in the chamber. And he brake them from off his arms

like a thread. And Delilah said unto Samson, "Hitherto thou hast mocked

me, and told me lies: tell me wherewith thou mightest be bound." And he

said unto her," If thou weavest the seven locks of my head with the

web." And she fastened it with the pin, and said unto him," The

Philistines be upon thee, Samson." And he awaked out of his sleep, and

went away with the pin of the beam, and with the web.

And she said unto him, "How canst thou say, 'I love thee,' when thine

heart is not with me? Thou hast mocked me these three times, and hast

not told me wherein thy great strength lieth." And it came to pass,

when she pressed him daily with her words, and urged him, so that his

soul was vexed unto death; that he told her all his heart, and said

unto her, "There hath not come a razor upon mine head; for I have been

a Nazarite unto God from my mother's womb: if I be shaven, then my

strength will go from me, and I shall become weak, and be like any

other man." And when Delilah saw that he had told her all his heart,

she sent and called for the lords of the Philistines, saying, "Come up

this once, for he hath showed me all his heart." Then the lords of the

Philistines came up unto her, and brought money in their hand. And she

made him sleep upon her knees; and she called for a man, and she caused

him to shave off the seven locks of his head; and she began to afflict

him, and his strength went from him. And she said, "The Philistines be

upon thee, Samson." And he awoke out of his sleep, and said, "I will go

out as at other times before, and shake myself." And he wist not that

the Lord was departed from him.

But the Philistines took him, and put out his eyes, and brought him

down to Gaza, and bound him with fetters of brass; and he did grind in

the prison house. Howbeit the hair of his head began to grow again

after he was shaven. Then the lords of the Philistines gathered them

together for to offer a great sacrifice unto Dagon their god, and to

rejoice: for they said, "Our god hath delivered Samson our enemy into

our hand." And when the people saw him, they praised their god: for

they said, "Our god hath delivered into our hands our enemy, and the

destroyer of our country, which slew many of us." And it came to pass,

when their hearts were merry, that they said, "Call for Samson, that he

may make us sport." And they called for Samson out of the prison house;

and he made them sport: and they set him between the pillars. And

Samson said unto the lad that held him by the hand, "Suffer me that I

may feel the pillars whereupon the house standeth, that I may lean upon

them." Now the house was full of men and women; and all the lords of

the Philistines were there; and there were upon the roof about three

thousand men and women, that beheld while Samson made sport. And Samson

called unto the Lord, and said, "O Lord God, remember me, I pray thee,

and strengthen me, I pray thee, only this once, O God, that I may be at

once avenged of the Philistines for my two eyes." And Samson took hold

of the two middle pillars upon which the house stood, and on which it

was borne up, of the one with his right hand, and of the other with his

left. And Samson said, "Let me die with the Philistines." And he bowed

himself with all his might; and the house fell upon the lords, and upon

all the people that were therein. So the dead which he slew at his

death were more than they which he slew in his life. Then his brethren

and all the house of his father came down, and took him, and brought

him up, and buried him between Zorah and Eshtaol in the burying-place

of Manoah his father. And he judged Israel twenty years.

SOME PSALMS OF DAVID

PSALM 1

Blessed is the man that walketh not in the counsel of the ungodly, nor

standeth in the way of sinners, nor sitteth in the seat of the scornful.

But his delight is in the law of the Lord; and in his law doth he

meditate day and night.

And he shall be like a tree planted by the rivers of water, that

bringeth forth his fruit in his season; his leaf also shall not wither;

and whatsoever he doeth shall prosper.

The ungodly are not so: but are like the chaff which the wind driveth

away.

Therefore the ungodly shall not stand in the judgment, nor sinners in

the congregation of the righteous.

For the Lord knoweth the way of the righteous: but the way of the ungodly

shall perish.

PSALM 19

The heavens declare the glory of God; and the firmament showeth his

handiwork.

Day unto day uttereth speech, and night unto night showeth knowledge.

There is no speech nor language, where their voice is not heard.

Their line is gone out through all the earth, and their words to the

end of the world. In them hath he set a tabernacle for the sun.

Which is as a bridegroom coming out of his chamber, and rejoiceth

as a strong man to run a race.

His going forth is from the end of the heaven, and his circuit

unto the ends of it; and there is nothing hid from the heat thereof.

The law of the Lord is perfect, converting the soul: the testimony

of the Lord is sure, making wise the simple.

The statutes of the Lord are right, rejoicing the heart: the

commandment of the Lord is pure, enlightening the eyes.

The fear of the Lord is clean, enduring for ever: the judgments

of the Lord are true and righteous altogether.

More to be desired are they than gold, yea, than much fine gold:

sweeter also than honey and the honeycomb.

Moreover by them is thy servant warned: and in keeping of them

there is great reward.

Who can understand his errors? cleanse thou me from secret faults.

Keep back thy servant also from presumptuous sins; let them not

have dominion over me: then shall I be upright, and I shall be

innocent from the great transgression.

Let the words of my mouth, and the meditation of my heart, be

acceptable in thy sight, O Lord, my strength, and my redeemer.

PSALM 23

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.

He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the

still waters.

He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for

his name's sake.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will

fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort

me.

Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou

anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and

I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.

CHRIST'S SERMON ON THE MOUNT

And seeing the multitudes, he went up into a mountain: and when he was

set, his disciples came unto him: And he opened his mouth, and taught

them, saying:

Blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted. Blessed are

the meek: for they shall inherit the earth. Blessed are they which do

hunger and thirst after righteousness: for they shall be filled.

Blessed are the merciful: for they shall obtain mercy. Blessed are the

pure in heart: for they shall see God. Blessed are the peacemakers: for

they shall be called the children of God. Blessed are they which are

persecuted for righteousness' sake: for theirs is the kingdom of

heaven. Blessed are ye, when men shall revile you, and persecute you,

and shall say all manner of evil against you falsely, for my sake.

Rejoice, and be exceeding glad: for great is your reward in heaven: for

so persecuted they the prophets which were before you.

Ye are the salt of the earth: but if the salt have lost his savor,

wherewith shall it be salted? it is thenceforth good for nothing, but

to be cast out, and to be trodden under foot of men. Ye are the light

of the world. A city that is set on a hill cannot be hid. Neither do

men light a candle, and put it under a bushel, but on a candlestick;

and it giveth light unto all that are in the house. Let your light so

shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your

Father which is in heaven.

Think not that I am come to destroy the law, or the prophets: I am not

come to destroy, but to fulfill. For verily I say unto you, Till heaven

and earth pass, one jot or one tittle shall in no wise pass from the

law, till all be fulfilled. Whosoever therefore shall break one of

these least commandments, and shall teach men so, he shall be called

the least in the kingdom of heaven: but whosoever shall do and teach

them, the same shall be called great in the kingdom of heaven. For I

say unto you, That except your righteousness shall exceed the

righteousness of the scribes and Pharisees, ye shall in no case enter

into the kingdom of heaven.

Ye have heard that it was said by them of old time, Thou shalt not

kill; and whosoever shall kill shall be in danger of the judgment: But

I say unto you, That whosoever is angry with his brother without a

cause shall be in danger of the judgment: and whosoever shall say to

his brother, "Raca," shall be in danger of the council: but whosoever

shall say, "Thou fool," shall be in danger of hell fire. Therefore if

thou bring thy gift to the altar, and there rememberest that thy

brother hath aught against thee; leave there thy gift before the altar,

and go thy way; first be reconciled to thy brother, and then come and

offer thy gift. Agree with thine adversary quickly, while thou art in

the way with him; lest at any time the adversary deliver thee to the

judge, and the judge deliver thee to the officer, and thou be cast into

prison. Verily I say unto thee, Thou shalt by no means come out thence,

till thou hast paid the uttermost farthing.