for the lords of the Philistines. “Come only this once,” she said, “and
you shall have him.” And they came, and brought the silver pieces with
them.
And Samson slept, in the heat of the day, with his head upon Delilah’s
knees. And the men came in softly and cut off the seven locks of his
hair. Then Delilah cried, “The Philistines be upon thee, Samson!” And he
awoke, and saw the Philistines coming, and he stretched forth his great
arms, and they were like the arms of any other man. And the Philistines
laid hold upon him, and put out both his eyes.
So the Philistines brought Samson down to Gaza, and bound him with brass
fetters, and put him in prison, and made him grind their corn. But his
hair began to grow again. And at last, one day, the Philistines made a
great feast in the temple of Dagon, their god. And there were crowds and
crowds of people, and all the lords of the Philistines; there were
people even on the roof. And they brought Samson from the prison that
they might look at him, and laugh at him. And a lad led him by the
hand. And by and by Samson said to the lad, “Lead me to a pillar.” Now
the temple roof rested on two huge pillars, quite near together. And
Samson cried to God and said, “O Lord God, remember me, I pray thee, and
strengthen me, only this once, O God, that I may be avenged upon the
Philistines for one of my two eyes.” And he thrust out his great arms
where he stood between the pillars, and pushed them hard with all his
might, and they fell, and the roof fell with them upon the Philistines,
and upon their lords, and upon Samson. So the dead which he slew at his
death were more than they which he slew in his life.
XXIII
THE BRAMBLE AND THE FIRE
Abimelech was a king’s son. His father was the brave Gideon who fought
the battle of the Lamps and Pitchers. But he had seventy brothers. So
when Gideon died the question at once arose, “Which of all the princes
shall be the king?” This question was promptly answered by Abimelech. He
went to the men of a town called Shechem, and said, “No nation can have
seventy kings. The right number is one. Now make me king, and I will be
your friend.” And that pleased the men of Shechem. They gave Abimelech
seventy pieces of silver, and he hired seventy bad men, and one black
night they set out from Shechem, every man with a piece of silver in one
pocket and a sharp knife in the other, and when they came back in the
early morning all of Abimelech’s seventy brothers had been killed but
one. One brother, Jotham, the youngest of them all, escaped.
Now the town of Shechem lay amidst the mountains. On one side was a
mountain called Ebal, and on the other side was a mountain called
Gerizim. And that day, the men of Shechem heard the voice of some one
calling, and here they looked and there they looked to find where the
voice came from, and at last on Mount Gerizim they saw a boy. And there
was Abimelech’s youngest brother, Jotham. And Jotham lifted up his voice
and cried to the men of Shechem, and they came out of their houses and
stood in the street to hear him.
“Hearken unto me,” he said, “ye men of Shechem, that God may hearken
unto you. One time the trees resolved to choose a king, and they said to
the olive tree, ‘Come thou and reign over us.’ But the olive tree said
unto them, ‘Shall I leave my oil which honors God and man, and go to be
king over the trees?’ Then they said to the fig tree, ‘Come thou and
reign over us,’ But the fig tree said, ‘Shall I leave my sweetness and
my good fruit and go to be king over the trees?’ Then they said to the
vine, ‘Come thou and reign over us,’ But the vine said, ‘Shall I leave
my wine which gladdens God and man and go to be king over the trees?’
Thus the olive and the fig and the vine refused. Then said all the trees
unto the bramble, ‘Come thou and reign over us,’ And the bramble
consented. ‘Come,’ said the bramble, ‘and get under my shadow. But if
you play me false, out of me shall fire come till even the cedars of
Lebanon are burned.’”
Thus did Jotham speak, and lest anybody should fail to understand his
fable, he told the men of Shechem what it meant.
“My brother Abimelech,” he said, “is good for nothing. He is like a
bramble in the field. And you have made him your king. Now look out for
fire.” So saying, he climbed down from the rock on which he stood, and
disappeared in the woods and ran away.
And by and by the fire came. For after three years there was a quarrel
between Abimelech and the men of Shechem. The men of Shechem began to
rob the caravans as they went to and fro over the great roads through
Abimelech’s land. And in the autumn, when the grapes were ripe, and the
men of Shechem were all in the vineyards making wine and drinking it,
they defied Abimelech. They said that they were not afraid of him. And
they had for leader a man named Gaal, who wished to be king in
Abimelech’s place. “Who is Abimelech?” he said; “why should we serve
him? Make me your captain, and I will look after Abimelech.” And this
they agreed to do. But Zebul, the mayor of the city, sent word and told
Abimelech.
And Abimelech rose up, and all the people that were with him, by night,
and marched toward Shechem. Now early in the morning Gaal the rebel and
Zebul the mayor stood together in the gate of the city and looked out.
And Gaal said, “See, there are people coming down from the top of the
mountains.”
But Zebul laughed and said, “Oh, you see the shadows of the passing
clouds.”
And Gaal spoke again and said, “See! see! there are people coming over
Midland Hill, and there are others gathering under the Magician’s Tree.”
And Zebul said, “Where is your mouth with which you said, ‘Who is
Abimelech?’ These are the people whom you have despised. Go out now and
fight.”
So Gaal went out and fought, and Abimelech beat him and chased him and
all his followers into the town. And the men of Shechem fled into their
strong tower. And Abimelech and his men took axes in their hands and
went off into the woods; and Abimelech said, “Watch me, and do as you
see me do, quickly.” And he cut off a big branch of a tree and put it
over his shoulder, and all the soldiers did the same. And down they came
against the tower of Shechem, like a marching forest, like Birnam Wood
on its famous march to Dunsinane. The boughs they piled about the tower
and set them on fire, and burned the tower and the men of Shechem with
it.
But the next day, when Abimelech tried in the same way to burn the tower
of Thebez, suddenly the end came. For a woman on the top of the tower
had a piece of a millstone in her hand, and as Abimelech came near she
threw the stone with all her might, and it hit him in the head. And that
he might die a soldier’s death, he called his armor-bearer to come and
kill him with his sword. Thus he died. And thus the evil both of the men
of Shechem and of Abimelech was punished.
XXIV
JEPHTHAH’S DAUGHTER
Her father was an outlaw, like Robin Hood. For no fault of his he had
been driven from his home, and had gone to live in the wild forest.
There he had been joined by other men, some bad and some good, who had
been driven out like himself or had run away in fear of being punished.
And they went on forays, stealing sheep and oxen. And people who had
money in their purses were afraid to go by that way, lest Jephthah and
his merry men should fall upon them and send them back with empty
pockets, and sore heads into the bargain. Though I hope that Jephthah,
like Robin Hood, troubled only those who cheated their neighbors or were
cruel to the poor. Anyhow, his fame spread through all the land of
Gilead, in which he lived, and everybody knew that Jephthah was a bold
outlaw, and that he had with him a band of stout companions. In the
greenwood, with these wild men, lived a little girl; and she was
Jephthah’s only child.
The land of Gilead was bounded by three rivers and a desert. In the
north a river ran into the Jordan, and in the south a river ran into the
Jordan, and the desert lay along the east. And in the desert was a wild
tribe called the men of Ammon. And the men of Ammon sent word to the men
of Gilead and said, “The country in which you live belongs to us. That
was where our fathers lived. Come now, move out and let us in.” And when
the men of Gilead heard that, they were sore distressed, for the men of
Ammon were mighty men. “Where is a man,” they said, “who can be the
captain of our army? If he can lead us into battle and gain the victory,
he shall be the king of Gilead.” And they sent to Jephthah and asked
him.
“Come,” they said, “and be our captain, that we may fight with the men
of Ammon.”
But Jephthah said, “Did you not hate me, and expel me out of my father’s
house? Why are you come to me now when you are in distress?”
And the men of Gilead said, “If you will be our captain so that we may
defeat our enemies, you shall be our king.”
So Jephthah and his merry men and his little daughter came out of the
woods with the messengers of Gilead. And they all stopped at a church
beside the road and said their prayers. And there they told God what
they had promised. And Jephthah stood up and made a vow. “O Lord,” he
said, “if thou shalt without fail deliver the men of Ammon into my
hands, then it shall be that whosoever comes first out of my doors to
meet me when I return in peace, I will sacrifice to thee.” For Jephthah
thought that if he made a vow like that, the Lord would be more likely
to give him victory. This, you understand, was a long time ago, when
people were very ignorant about God. Of this vow, Jephthah’s daughter
knew nothing.
Thus Jephthah became the captain. And he sent messengers to the king of
Ammon and said, “Why are you come to fight me in my own land?” And the
king of Ammon answered, “Your land is my land. Your fathers took it from
my fathers. Come now, give it up again peaceably.” But Jephthah said,
“When our fathers came into these parts out of Egypt, your fathers were
not living here. They had been driven out by Sihon, king of the
Amorites. And our fathers fought with Sihon and beat him in battle and
took his land, from one river to the other. It was not your land. And
anyhow, all this happened three hundred years ago. The Lord be judge
this day between the men of Gilead and the men of Ammon.” So they fell
to fighting. And the men of Gilead gained a great victory.
And Jephthah came home in triumph to his house, and all the women came
out to meet him, who had stayed behind while the men went to battle. Out
they came, singing and dancing and playing on tambourines. And who
should be at the head of the procession but Jephthah’s little daughter!
So she was the first person who came out to meet him when he returned in
peace. She was his only child; beside her he had neither son nor
daughter. And when her father saw her he cried with a great cry, and
said, “Alas, my daughter! you have dealt me a worse blow than any that
was struck this day in battle: you have brought me down to the ground.
For I have vowed a vow to God, and I must keep it, and here you come to
meet me.”
Then Jephthah’s daughter understood what the vow was, and that it meant
her death. And she said, “My father, you have gained the victory: that
is the great thing. Do to me according to what you have promised to the
Lord.” It was all terribly wrong, though Jephthah did not know it. But
his daughter, like Iphigenia in another story, showed herself a martyr
and a heroine. For the sake of her country, as she believed, she gave
her life.
So they made Jephthah their king, but his happiness was gone. He fought
a battle with the men of Ephraim and drove them back over the river, and
stationed his soldiers on the bank where they must cross. And when
anybody came running, the soldiers said, “Are you a man of Ephraim?” and
if he said “No,” they said, “Say ‘Shibboleth.’” And if he said
“Sibboleth” they knew that he belonged to Ephraim, for the men of
Ephraim were not able to say _sh_. But every year the women of Israel
spent four days in the mountain weeping and lamenting in remembrance of
the sacrifice of Jephthah’s daughter.
XXV
THE KING’S GREAT-GRANDMOTHER
All the great-grandmothers were once as young as we are. So, when this
story begins, King David’s great-grandmother was just about at the age
when girls are graduated from the grammar school. She lived in Moab, in
the country of Balaam and Balak, and her name was Ruth. And at that time
a new family moved into that neighborhood from the land of Judah, from
the town of Bethlehem. The man’s name was Elimelech, and his wife’s name
was Naomi, and they had two sons. And by and by one of the sons married
a girl named Orpah, and the other married Ruth. Then ten years passed,
and Elimelech and his two sons died, and Naomi and Ruth and Orpah were
left alone.
Then Naomi took her two daughters-in-law each by the hand, and with
tears in her eyes kissed them, and told them that she was going back to
Bethlehem. And at first they both said that they would go with her. But
she told them that they would better go home. “I have no more sons,” she
said, “and no good house for you to live in.” And Orpah went home,
crying as she went. But Ruth stayed with Naomi. “Intreat me not,” she
said, “to leave thee, or to return from following after thee: for
whither thou goest I will go, and where thou lodgest I will lodge: thy
people shall be my people, and thy God my God.” So they gathered their
things together and set out upon their journey. Over they went across
the river Jordan, and climbed the hills, and came at last to Bethlehem.
And there they arrived at the beginning of the barley harvest.
Now the next morning Ruth said to her mother, “I must help to support
myself and you, so that we may not starve. Let me go into the fields and
gather the barley which the reapers leave behind them.” For they had a
good law in that country which said that the farmers must not gather up
all of the wheat or the barley or the fruit, but must leave some for the
poor. So Ruth went to glean the barley. The field in which she gleaned
belonged to a rich farmer whose name was Boaz. And pretty soon out came
Boaz to see how the work was getting on, and he noticed Ruth and asked
about her. And the head reaper told him who she was. And Boaz was very
kind to her.
“My daughter,” he said, “stay with my maidens in my field. Nobody shall
harm you. Gather as much as you can carry. When you are thirsty, go and
drink out of the men’s bucket, and at noon when you are hungry come and
eat your lunch with us.”
And Ruth said, “How is it that you are so good to me, a stranger?”
And Boaz answered, “I have heard about you, how you have left your own
land and your own people to be a good daughter to my old friend Naomi.”
So Ruth gleaned all day behind the reapers in the field of Boaz, and
when she was thirsty she drank from their bucket, and when it was time
for lunch, she dipped her bread in the vinegar with the others, and Boaz
himself passed her the parched corn. And Boaz told the reapers to drop
some handfuls in her way; so that at night she had more than a bushel of
barley to take home.
And Naomi said, “My daughter, where have you gleaned to-day?” And Ruth
said, “In the field of Boaz, and he was very kind to me.”
“Why,” cried Naomi, “he is a near kinsman. Your husband’s father was his
cousin.” So every day, through barley harvest and through wheat harvest,
Ruth gleaned from morning till night in the fields of Boaz.
By and by, good Naomi said to herself, “Boaz has no wife, and Ruth has
no husband. How pleasant it would be if they should marry!” And so she
planned and planned
[Illustration: BOAZ NOTICES RUTH AND ASKS ABOUT HER]
how she might bring it to pass. And one day she called Ruth and thus and
so she said to her, and Ruth, who thought that everything that Naomi
said was right, promised to do as she was told. And that night the wind
was blowing and the moon was shining, and Boaz was working late,
winnowing barley in the threshing-floor, he and his men, and after
supper he lay down on the floor at the end of the heap of barley and
went to sleep. And in the middle of the night he waked and turned over
to sleep again, and there was Ruth.
And Boaz said, “Who is this?”
And she said, “I am Ruth. My husband’s father was your cousin.”
And he said, “You have done well, my daughter, to come to me. I will do
whatever you wish. Only there is a kinsman nearer than I. We must first
see him. Lie down now and sleep.” So she lay down and slept, and the
next morning, before the day was light, she rose up and went home.
And that day Boaz sat by the city gate, and the kinsman passed. “Ho!”
called Boaz, “turn aside and sit down here.” And Boaz called ten men to
sit beside them. “Now,” said Boaz, “Naomi has some land to sell which
belonged to our brother Elimelech. Will you buy it?”
“Yes,” the kinsman said, “I will.”
“But wait!” said Boaz. “Whoever buys the land must take Naomi with it,
and Ruth her daughter.”
“That is too much for me,” said the kinsman, and he took off his shoe to
show that he would not buy.
“Then the land is mine,” said Boaz. And the next day he married Ruth
amidst the rejoicings of all the people of Bethlehem. And by and by
there was a little boy named Obed, and he became the father of Jesse,
and Jesse became the father of David.
XXVI
“SAMUEL! SAMUEL!”
One time, in the hill country, among the mountains of Ephraim, there
lived a farmer named Elkanah. He and Hannah his wife were comfortably
rich. They had fields of wheat and vineyards of grapes, and flocks and
herds, and plenty of hay in the barn; but in one way they were
poor,--they had no children. Sometimes Hannah cried because the house
was so empty and still, and there were no voices of children in it.
Sometimes she was so sad and lonely that she could not eat, and though
her husband tried to comfort her, and said, “Hannah, am I not better to
you than ten sons?” still she was full of grief. For children are the
best gift which God gives to man, and all the cornfields and vineyards
and sheep and oxen in the world are not to be compared with them.
One day, Hannah went in to town, to Shiloh; and as she passed the church
she stopped and knelt down on the steps and prayed with all her heart
that God would give her a son. And Eli, the minister, was sitting on a
bench by the church door. Eli was an old man, and his two sons, Hophni
and Phinehas, who had become ministers in his place, were not only bad
ministers, but bad men, so that many people had stopped going to church.
In those days, when people went to church, they carried sheep with them,
or other animals, to offer to God. This they did that they might show
God that they truly loved Him: they gave Him the best they had. But when
they came with their sacrifices, and the meat was in the pot cooking
over the church fire, Hophni and Phinehas would send their servants,
each with a great three-pronged fork in his hand, and they would thrust
their forks into the pot, and whatever they brought up they would carry
away to their masters. “Give us meat,” they said, “for the priests.” And
if anybody objected, the servants answered, “If you will not give it, we
will take it from you by force.” Thus Hophni and Phinehas had plenty to
eat, and grew rich, and became more wicked day by day, but the number of
persons who came to church grew less and less. So when Eli saw Hannah
praying at the church steps he was surprised. Nobody had been to church
to pray for a long time. He could not believe, at first, that she was
really praying; her lips moved, but she made no sound. And because he
was old and his eyes were bad so that he could not see well, he thought
that she was some drunken person.
[Illustration: THE LAD SHALL BELONG TO THE LORD]
“Come, come,” he said at last, “how long wilt thou be drunken?” But she
said, “Sir, I am not drunken. I am praying my prayers.” And she told him
what she was praying for. And Eli said, “My daughter, go in peace. May
the God of Israel grant thy request.”
And the God of Israel did grant her request. God sent a little son to
Hannah and Elkanah, and they named him Samuel. And when the child was
two years old, they went one day to the church in Shiloh, and there was
Eli sitting by the door. And they said, “Sir, do you remember the woman
who was here praying for a son? Here she is, and here is her son with
her. And we have promised that the lad shall belong to the Lord. Take
him now and bring him up to be a minister of the church.” And they went
away, leaving the child behind them. And Eli took care of the little
boy, and because his own sons had turned out so badly, he took the
greater pains with Samuel, and taught him to be obedient and honest and
to tell the truth. And every year his mother came to see him and brought
him a little coat which she had made with her own hands.
At last, one night when Eli was so old that he could hardly see, and
Samuel had grown to be a sturdy lad, they were both asleep in the same
room. There was a great box in the room called the Ark, and in it were
the two tables of stone on which the Ten Commandments were written, and
over it hung a lamp which was kept burning every night.
And Samuel heard a voice calling his name, “Samuel!” and he answered,
“Here am I,” and ran to see what Eli wanted. But Eli said, “I did not
call, my son; lie down again.”
So Samuel went and lay down, and again there was a voice, “Samuel!
Samuel!” And again Samuel ran to Eli, saying, “Here am I,” and Eli said,
“I did not call.” And this happened a third time.
Then Eli perceived that the Lord had called the child. Therefore Eli
said to Samuel, “Go lie down, and if you hear the voice again, say,
‘Speak, Lord, for thy servant heareth.’” And pretty soon he heard the
voice again, “Samuel! Samuel!” and he said, “Speak, Lord, for thy
servant heareth.”
Then the Lord spoke and said, “Behold, I will do a thing in Israel at
which both the ears of every one that heareth it shall tingle. I will
punish Eli and his sons for all the evil that is done, for they have
behaved themselves wickedly and he did not stop them.” Then there was
silence, and by and by the lamp burned out, and the sun rose and it was
light, and Samuel got up and opened the doors and let the morning
breeze blow in. And Eli said, “Samuel, what did the Lord say?” And
Samuel did not like to tell, but Eli urged him, and he told. And Eli
said, “It is the Lord, let him do what seemeth him good.”
XXVII
THE BATTLE OF THE ARK OF GOD
Well, things went on from bad to worse. One day a stranger came to Eli
and stood before him as he sat on the bench by the church door. And the
stranger said, “Hear what the Lord God says to you, Eli. I chose your
father to be my priest, to minister at my altar, to burn incense before
me, and to offer the sacrifices of my people. And now you honor your
sons more than you honor me, and they are making themselves rich by
stealing the offerings which the people bring. Therefore it shall come
to pass that your two sons shall die both of them in one day, and your
grandchildren shall be so poor that they shall stand begging at the
church steps, saying, ‘Give me a little money and a bit of bread, for I
am hungry.’” But it was too late. The time to teach people to be good is
when they are young, and Eli had let that time go by. He had allowed his
sons to do whatever they pleased when they were small boys, and now he
could not stop them.
Then the Philistines, the neighbors and old enemies of Israel, began to
be troublesome again. The Philistines lived in the long plain by the
sea, and the Israelites lived among the hills, and a river ran from the
hills into the plain, making a deep valley. Up this valley climbed the
Philistines, till they came to a town of the Israelites called
Beth-shemesh. And in a field beside the town was a great rock called
Ebenezer. And there they had a battle, the Philistines against the
Israelites, and the Israelites ran away. And that night the Israelites
held a council and said, “What can we do? for the Philistines are
mightier than we.” And they said, “Let us go to the church in Shiloh and
get the Ark of God. If we have that among us, it may save us out of the
hand of our enemies.” For they remembered how when their fathers crossed
the Jordan, at the beginning, the Ark was carried at the head of the
host; and how it was borne by the priests, with blowing of trumpets, at
the siege of Jericho. So they took the Ark out of the Shiloh church, and
Eli’s sons, Hophni and Phinehas, carried it, one at one end and the
other at the other. And when the Ark came into the camp, all Israel
shouted with a great shout, so that the earth rang again with the echo
of it. “Let God arise,” they cried, “and let his enemies be scattered.
Let them also that hate Him flee before Him!” For that was the battle
cry of Israel.