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My Dear Lads:

In all history there is no drama of more terrible interest than that which terminated with the total destruction of Jerusalem. Had the whole Jewish nation joined in the desperate resistance made by a section of it to the overwhelming strength of Rome, the world would have had no record of truer patriotism than that displayed by this small people in their resistance to the forces of the mistress of the world. Unhappily the reverse of this was the case. Except in the defense of Jotapata and Gamala, it can scarcely be said that the Jewish people as a body offered any serious resistance to the arms of Rome. The defenders of Jerusalem were a mere fraction of its population, a fraction composed almost entirely of turbulent characters and robber bands, who fought with the fury of desperation, after having placed themselves beyond the pale of forgiveness or mercy by the deeds of unutterable cruelty with which they had desolated the city before its siege by the Romans. They fought, it is true, with unflinching courage, a courage never surpassed in history, but it was the courage of despair, and its result was to bring destruction upon the whole population as well as upon themselves. Fortunately the narrative of Josephus, an eye-witness of the events which he describes, has come down to us; and it is the storehouse from which all subsequent histories of the events have been drawn. It is no doubt tinged throughout by his desire to stand well with his patrons Vespasian and Titus, but there is no reason to doubt the accuracy of his descriptions. I have endeavored to present you with as vivid a picture as possible of the events of the war without encumbering the story with details, and except as regards the exploits of John of Gamala, of whom Josephus says nothing, have strictly followed in every particular narrative of the historian.

Yours sincerely,

G. A. Henty

“Dreaming, John, as usual? I never saw such a joy. You are always in extremes, either tiring yourself out or lying half-asleep.”

“I was not half-asleep, mother; I was looking at the lake.”

“I cannot see much to look at, John; It’s just as it has been ever since you were born or since I was born.”

“No, I suppose there’s no change, mother, but I am never tired of looking at the sun shining on the ripples, and the fishermen’s boats, and the birds standing in the shallows or flying off in a desperate hurry without any reason that I can make out. Besides, mother, when one is looking at the lake one is thinking of other things.”

“And very often thinking of nothing at all, my son.”

“Perhaps so, mother; but there’s plenty to think of in these times.”

“Plenty, John; there are baskets and baskets of figs to be stripped from the trees and hung up to dry for the winter, and next week we are going to begin the grape harvest. But the figs are the principal matter at present, and I think that it would be far more useful for you to go and help old Isaac and his son in getting them in than in lying there watching the lake.”

I suppose it would, mother,” the lad said, rising briskly, for his fits of indolence were by no means common, and as a rule he was ready to assist at any work which might be going on.

“I do not wonder at John loving the lake,” his mother said to herself when the lad had hurried away. “It is a fair scene, and it may be, as Simon thinks, that a change may come over it before long, and that ruin and desolation may fall upon us all.”

There were, indeed, few scenes which could surpass in tranquil beauty that which Martha, the wife of Simon, was looking upon, the sheet of sparkling water with its low shores dotted with towns and villages. Down the lake, on the opposite shore, rose the walls and citadel of Tiberias, with many stately buildings, for although Tiberias was not now the chief town of Galilee, for Sephoris had usurped its place, it had been the seat of the Roman authority, and the kings who ruled the country for Rome generally dwelt there. Half a mile from the spot where Martha was standing rose the newly erected wall so Hippos.

Where the towns and villages did not engross the shore, the rich orchards and vineyards extended down to the very edge of the water. The plain of Galilee was a veritable garden; here flourished in the greatest abundance the vine and the fig; while the low hills were covered with olive groves, and the corn waved thickly on the rich, fat land. No region on the earth’s face possessed a fairer climate. The heat was never extreme; the winds blowing from the Great Sea brought the needed moisture for the vegetation, and so soft and equable was the air that for ten months in the year grapes and figs could be gathered. The population, supported by the abundant fruits of the earth, was very large. Villages which could elsewhere be called towns, for those containing but a few thousand inhabitants were regarded as small indeed, were scattered thickly over the plain, and few areas of equal dimensions could show a population approaching that which inhabited the plains and slopes between the Sea of Galilee and the Mediterranean. None could have been dreamed of the dangers that were to come, or believe that this rich cultivation and teeming population would disappear, and that in time a few flocks of wandering sheep would be scarce to be able to find herbage growing on the wastes of land which would take the place of this fertile soil. Certainly no such thought as this occurred to Martha as she re-entered the house, though she did fear that trouble and ruin might be approaching.

John was soon at work among the fig-trees, aiding Isaac and his son Reuben, a lad of some fifteen years, to pick the soft, luscious fruit, and carry it to the little courtyard shaded from the rays of the sun by an overhead trellis-work covered with vines and almost bending beneath the purple bunches of grapes. Miriam, the old nurse, and four or five maid-servants, under the eye of Martha, tied them in rows on strings and fastened them to pegs driven into that side of the house upon which the sun beat down most hotly. It was only the best fruit that was so served, for that which had been damaged in the picking and all of smaller size were laid on trays in the sun. The girls chatted merrily as they worked, for Martha, although a good housewife, was a gentle mistress, and so long as fingers were busy heeded not if the tongue ran on.

“Let the damsels be happy while they may, “she would say if Miriam scolded a little when the laughter rose louder than usual. “Let them be happy while they can; who knows what lies in the future?”

But at present the future cast no shade upon the group, nor upon a girl of about fourteen years old who danced in and out of the courtyard in the highest spirits, now stopping a few minutes to string the figs, then scampering away with an empty basket, which, when she reached the gatherers, she placed on her head and supported demurely for a little while at the foot of the ladder upon which John was perched, so that he could lay the figs in it without bruising them; but long ere the basket was filled she would tire of the work, and setting it on the ground run back into the house.

“And so you think you are helping, Mary,” John said, laughing, when the girl returned for the fourth time with an empty basket.

“Helping, John! Of course I am, ever so much; helping you and helping them at the house, and carrying empty baskets. I consider myself the most active of the party.”

“Active, certainly, Mary! But if you do not help them in stringing and hanging the figs more than you help me, I think you might as well leave it alone.”

“Fie, John! That is most ungrateful, after my standing here like a statue with the basket on my head ready for you to lay the figs in.”

“That is all very fine!” John laughed; “but before the basket is half-full away you go, and I have to get down the ladder and bring up the basket and fix it firmly, and that without shaking the figs, whereas ha you left it alone altogether I could have brought up the empty basket and fixed it close by my hand without any trouble at all.”

“You are an ungrateful boy, and you know how bad it is to be ungrateful! And after my making myself so hot, too!” Miriam said. “My face is as red as fire, and that is all the thanks I get. Very well, then, I shall go into the house and leave you to your own bad reflections.”

“You need not do that, Mary; you can sit down in the shade there and watch us at work, and eat figs and get yourself cool, all at the same time. The sun will be down in another half hour and then I shall be free to amuse you.”

“Amuse me, indeed!” the girl said indignantly as she sat down on the bank to which John had pointed. “You mean that I shall amuse you; that is what it generally comes to. If it wasn’t for me I am sure very often there would not be a word said when we are out together.”

“Perhaps that is true,” John agree; “but you see there is so much to think about.”

“And so you choose the time when you are with me to think! Thank you, John! You had better think at present;” and rising from the seat she had just taken, she walked back to the house again, regardless of John’s explanations and shouts.

Old Isaac chuckled on his tree close by.

“They are ever so sharp for us in words, John. The damsel is younger than you by full two years, and yet she can always put you in the wrong with her tongue.”

“She puts meanings to my words which I never thought of,” John said, “and is angered, or pretends to be, for I never know which it is, at things which she has coined out of her own mind, for they had no place in mine.”

“Boys’ wits are always slower than girls’,” the old man said; “a girl has more fancy in her little finger than a boy in his whole body. Your cousin laughs at you because she sees that you take it seriously, and wonders in her mind how it is her thoughts run ahead of yours. But I love the damsel, and so do all in the house, for if she be a little wayward at times, she is bright and loving, and has cheered the house since she came here. Your father is not a man of many words, and Martha, as becomes her age, is staid and quiet, though she is no enemy of mirth and cheerfulness; but the loss of all her children save you has saddened her, and I think she must often have pined that she had not a girl, and she has brightened much since the damsel came here three years ago. But the sun is sinking and my basket is full; there will be enough for the maids to go on with in the morning until we can supply them with more.”

John’s basket was not full, but he was well content to stop, and descending their ladders the three returned to the house.

Simon of Cadez, for that was the name of his farm and the little fishing village close by on the shore was a prosperous and well-to-do man. His land, like that of all around him, had come down from father to son through long generations, for the law by which all mortgages were cleared off every seven years prevented those who might be disposed to idleness and extravagance from ruining themselves and their children. Every man dwelt upon the land which, as eldest son, he had inherited, while the younger sons, taking their smaller share, would settle in the towns or villages and become traders or fishermen according to their bent and means.

There were poor in Palestine, for there will be poor everywhere so long as human nature remains as it is, and some men are idle and self-indulgent while others are industrious and thrifty; but taking it as a whole there were, thanks to the wise provisions of their laws, no people on the face of the earth so generally comfortable and well-to-do. They grumbled, of course, over the exactions of the tax-collectors—exactions due not to the contributions which was paid by the province to imperial Rome, but to the luxury and extravagance of their kings and to the greed and corruption of the officials. But in spite of this the people of rich and prosperous Galilee could have lived in contentment and happiness had it not been for the factions in their mist.

On reaching the house, John found that his father had just returned from Hippos, whither he had gone on business. He nodded when the lad entered with his basket.

“I have hired eight men in the market to-day to come out to-morrow to aid in gathering in the figs,” he said, “and your mother has just sent down to get some of the fishermen’s maidens to come in to help her; it is time that we had done with them, and we will then set about the vintage. Let us reap while we can’ there is no saying what the morrow will bring forth. Wife, add something to the evening mean, for the Rabbi Solomon Ben Masassch will sup with us and sleep here to-night.”

John saw that his father looked graver than usual; but he knew his duty as a son too well to think of asking any questions, and he busied himself for the time in laying out the figs on trays, knowing that otherwise their own weight would crush the soft fruit before the morning, and bruise the tender skins.

A quarter of an hour later the quick footsteps of a donkey were heard approaching. John ran out, and having saluted the rabbi, held the animal while his father assisted him to alight, and welcoming him to his house, led him within. The meal was soon served. It consisted of fish from the lake, kid’s flesh seethed in milk, and fruit. Only the men sat down; the rabbi sitting upon Simon’s right hand, John on his left, and Isaac and his son at the other end of the table. Martha’s maids waited upon them, for it was not the custom for the women to sit down with the men; and although in the country this usage was not strictly observed, and Martha and little Mary generally took their meals with Simon and John, they did not do so if any guest was present.

In honor of the visitor a white cloth had been laid on the table. All ate with their fingers, two dishes of each kind being placed on the table—one at each end. But few words were said during the meal. After it was concluded Isaac and his son withdrew, and presently Martha and Mary, having taken their meals in the women’s apartments, came into the room. Mary made a little face at John to signify her disapproval of the visitor, whose coming would compel her to keep silent all the evening. But though John smiled, he made no sign of sympathy, for indeed he was anxious to hear the news from without, and doubted not that he should learn much from the rabbi.

Solomon Ben Manasseh was a man of considerable influence in Galilee. He was a tall, stern-looking old man, with bushy black eyebrows, deep-set eyes, and a long beard of black hair streaked with gray. He was said to have acquired much of the learning of the Gentiles, among whom at Antioch he had dwelt for some years; but it was to his powers as a speaker that he owed his influence. It was the tongue in those days that ruled men, and there were few who could lash a crowd to fury, or still their wrath when excited, better than Solomon Ben Manasseh. For some time they talked upon different subjects—on the corn-harvest and vintage, the probable amount of taxation, the marriage feast which was to take place in the following week at the house of one of the principal citizens of Hippos, and other matters. But at last Simon broached the subject which was uppermost in all their thoughts.

“And the news from Tiberias, you say, is bad, rabbi?”

“The news from Tiberias is always bad, friend Simon; in all the land there is not a city which will compare with it in the wrong-headedness of its people and the violence of its seditions, and little can be hoped, as far as I can see, so long as our good governor, Josephus, continues to treat the malefactors so leniently. A score of times they have conspired against his life, and as often has he eluded them, for the Lord has been ever with him. But each time, instead of punishing those who have brought about these disorders, he lets them go free, trusting always that they will repent them of their ways, although he sees that his kindness is thrown away and that they grow even bolder and more bitter against him after each failure.

“All Galilee is with him. Whenever he gives the word every man takes up his arms and follows him; and did he but give the order they would level those proud towns Tiberias and Sepphoris to the ground, and tear down stone by stone the stronghold of John of Gischala. But he will suffer them to do nothing—not a hair of these traitors’ heads is to be touched, nor their property to value of a penny be interfered with. I call such lenity culpable. The law ordains punishment for those who disturb people. We know what befell those who rebelled against Moses. Josephus has the valor and the wisdom of King David, but it were well if he had, like our great king, a Joab by his side, who would smite down traitors and spare not.”

“It is his only fault,” Simon said. “What a change has taken place since he was sent hither from Jerusalem to take up our government! All abuses have been repressed, extortion has been put down, taxes have been lightened. We eat our bread in peace and comfort and each man’s property is his own. Never was there such a change as he has wrought, and were it not for John of Gischala, Justus the son of Piscus, and Jesus the son of Sapphias all would go quietly and well; but these men are continually stirring up the people, who in their folly listen to them, and conspiring to murder Josephus and seize upon his government.

“Already he has had more than once to reduce to submission Tiberias and Sepphoris, happily without bloodshed. For when the people of these cities saw that all Galilee was with Josephus, they opened their gates and submitted themselves to his mercy. Truly in Leviticus it is said: ‘Thou shalt not avenge nor bear any grudge against the children of they people, but thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself.’ But Josephus carries this beyond reason. Seeing that his adversaries by no means observe this law, he should remember that it is also said that ‘He that taketh the sword shall fall by the sword,” and that the law lays down punishments for the transgressors. Our judges and kinds slew those who troubled the land and destroyed them utterly, and Josephus does wrong to depart from their teaching.”

“I know not where he could have learned such notions of mercy to his enemies and to the enemies of the land,” Simon said. “He has been to Rome, but it is not among the Romans that he will have found that it is right to forgive those who rise up in rebellion.”

“Yes, he was in Rome when he was twenty-six years old,” Simon said. “He went thither to plead the case of certain priests who had been thrown into bonds by Felix and sent to Rome. It was a perilous voyage, for his ship was wrecked in the Adriatic, and of six hundred men who were aboard only eighty were picked up, after floating and swimming all night, by a ship of Cyrene. He was not long in Rome, for being introduced to Popæa, the wife of Cæsar, he used his interest with her and obtained the release of those for whose sake he went there. No, if he gained these ideas from any one, he learned them from one Banus, and Ascetic, of the sect of the Essenes, who lived in the desert with no other clothing than the park and leaves of trees, and no other food save that which grew wild.”

“Josephus lived with him in like fashion for three years, and doubtless learned all that was in his heart. Banus was a follower, they say, of that John whom Herod put to death, and, for aught I know, of that Jesus who was crucified two years afterward at Jerusalem, and in whom many people believed, and who has many followers to this day. I have conversed with some of them, and from what they tell me this Jesus taught doctrines similar to those which Josephus practices, and which he may have learned from Banus, without accepting the doctrines which the members of this sect hold as to their founder being the promised Messiah who was to restore Israel.”

“I too have talked with many of the sect,” Simon said, “and have argued with them on the folly of their belief, seeing that their founder by no means saved Israel, but was himself put to death. From what I could see there was much that was good in the doctrines they hold; but they have exaggerated ideas, and are opposed to all wars, even to fighting for their country. I hear that since there has been trouble with Rome most of them have departed altogether out of the land so as to avoid the necessity of fighting.”

“They are poor creatures,” Solomon Ben Manasseh said scornfully; “but we need not talk of them now, for they affect us in no way, save that it may be that Josephus has learned somewhat of their doctrines from Banus, and that he is thus unduly, and as I think, most unfortunately for the country, inclined too much to mercy instead of punishing the evil-doers as they deserve.”

“But, nevertheless, rabbi, it seems to me that there has been good policy as well in the mercy which Josephus has shown his foes. You know that John has many friends in Jerusalem, and that if he could accuse Josephus of slaughtering any, he would be able to make so strong a party there that he could obtain the recall of Josephus.”

“We would not let him go,” Solomon said hotly. “Since the Romans have gone we submit to the supremacy of the council at Jerusalem, but it is only on sufferance. For long ages we have had nothing to do with Judah, and we are not disposed to put our necks under their yoke now. We submit to unity because in the Romans we have a common foe, but we are not going to be tyrannized. Josephus has shown himself a wise ruler. We are happier under him than we have been for generations under the men who call themselves kings, but who are nothing but Roman satraps, and we are not going to suffer him to be taken from us. Only let the people of Jerusalem try that, and they will have to deal with all the men of Galilee.”

“I am past the age at which men are bound to take up the sword, and John has not yet attained it, but if there were need we would both go out and fight. What should they do? For the population of Galilee is greater than that of Judah. And while we would fight every man to the death, the Jews would few of them care to hazard their lives only to take from us the man we desire to rule over us. Still Josephus does wisely perhaps to give no occasion for accusation by his enemies. There is no talk, is there, rabbi, of any movement on the part of the Romans to come against us in force?”

“None so far as I have heard,” the rabbi replied. “King Agrippa remains in his country to the east, but he has no Roman force with him sufficient to attempt any great enterprise, and so long as they leave us alone we are content.”

“They will come sooner or later,” Simon said, shaking his head. “They are busy elsewhere. When they have settled with their other enemies they will come here to avenge the defeat of Cestius, to restore Florus, and to reconquer the land. Where Rome has once laid her paw she never lets slip her prey.”

“Well, we can fight,” Solomon Ben Manasseh said sternly. “Our forefathers won the land with the sword, and we can hold it by the sword.”

“Yes,” Martha said quietly, joining in the conversation for the first time, “if God fights for us as He fought for our forefathers.”

“Why should He not?” the rabbi asked sternly. “We are still His people. We are faithful to his law.”

“But God has many times in the past suffered us to fall into the hands of our enemies as a punishment for our sins,” Martha said quietly. “The tribes were carried away into captivity, and are scattered we know not where. The temple was destroyed, and the people of Judah dwelt long as captives in Babylon. He suffered us to fall under the yoke of the Romans. In his right time he will fight for us again, but can we say that that time has come, rabbi, and that he will smite the Romans as he smote the host of Sennacherib?”

“That no man can say,” the rabbi answered gloomily; “time only will show; but whether or no, the people will fight valiantly.”

“I doubt not that they will fight,” Simon said; “but many other nations, to whom we are but as a bandful, have fought bravely, but have succumbed to the might of Rome. It is said that Josephus and many of the wisest in Jerusalem were heartily opposed to the tumults against the Romans, and that they only went with the people because they were in fear of their lives; and even at Tiberias many men of worth and gravity, such as Julius Capellus, Herod the son of Miarus, Herod the son of Gamalus, Compsus, and others, are all strongly opposed to hostility against the Romans. And it is the same elsewhere. Those who know best what is the might and power of Rome would fain remain friendly with her. It is the ignorant and violent classes have led us into this strait, from which, as I fear, naught but ruin can arise.”

“I thought better things of you, Simon,” the rabbi said angrily.

“But you yourself have told me,” Simon urged, “that you thought it a mad undertaking to provoke the vengeance of Rome.”

“I thought so at first,” Solomon admitted, “but now our hand is placed on the plow we must not draw back; and I believe that the God of our fathers will show his might before the heathen.”

“I trust that it may be so,” Simon said gravely. “In his hand is all power. Whether he will see fit to put it forth now in our behalf remains to be seen. However, for the present we need not concern ourselves greatly with the Romans. It may be long before they bring an army against us, while these seditions here are at our very door and ever threaten to involve us in civil war.”

“We need fear no civil war,” the rabbi said. “The people of all Galilee, save the violent and ill-disposed in a few of the towns, are all for Josephus. If it comes to force, John and his party know that they will be swept away like a straw before the wind. The fear is that they may succeed in murdering Josephus, either by the knife of an assassin or in one of these tumults. They would rather the latter, because they would then say that the people had torn him to pieces in their fury at his misdoings. However, we watch over him as much as we can, and his friends have warned him that he must be careful, not only for his own sake but for that of all the people, and he has promised that as far as he can he will be on his guard against these traitors.”

“The governor should have a strong body-guard,” John exclaimed impetuously, “as the Roman governors had. In another year I shall be of age to have my name inscribed in the list of fighting men, and I would gladly be one of his guards.”

“You are neither old enough to fight nor to express an opinion unasked,” Simon said, “in the presence of your elders.”

“Do not check the boy,” the rabbi said; “he has fire and spirit, and the days are coming when we shall not ask how old or how young are those who would fight, so that they can but hold arms. Josephus is wise not to have a military guard, John, because the people love not such appearance of state. His enemies would use this as an argument that he is setting himself up above them. It is partly because he behaves himself discreetly and goes about among them like a private person of no more account than themselves that they love him. None can say he is a tyrant, because he has no means of tyrannizing. His enemies cannot urge it against him at Jerusalem, as they would doubtless do if they could, that he is seeking to lead Galilee away from the rule of Jerusalem, and to set himself up as its master; for to do this he would require to gather an army, and Josephus has not a single armed man at his service, save and except that when he appears to be in danger many out of love of him assemble and provide him escort. No, Josephus is wise in that he affects neither pomp nor state, that he keeps no armed men around him, but trusts to the love of the people. He would be wiser, however, did he seize one of the occasions when the people have taken up arms for him, to destroy all those who make sedition, and to free the country once and for all from the trouble.

“Sedition should be always nipped in the bud. Lenity in such a case is the most cruel course, for it encourages men to think that those in authority fear them, and that they can conspire without danger; and whereas at first the blood of ten men will put an end to sedition, it needs at last the blood of as many thousands to restore peace and order. It is good for a man to be merciful, but not for a ruler, for the good of the whole people is placed in his hands. The sword of justice is given to him, and he is most merciful who uses it the most promptly against those who work sedition. The wise ruler will listen to the prayers of his people, and will grant their petitions when they show that their case is hard; but he will grant nothing to him who asketh with his sword in his hand, for he knows full well that when he yields once he must yield always, until the time comes, as come it surely will, when he must resist with the sword. Then the land will be filled with blood, whereas in the beginning he could have avoided all trouble by refusing so much as to listen to those who spoke with threats. Josephus is a good man, and the Lord has given him great gifts. He has done great things for the land, but you will see that many woes will come and much blood will be shed from this lenity of his toward those who stir up tumults among the people.”

A few minutes later the family retired to bed, the hour being a late one for Simon’s household, which generally retired to rest a short time after the evening meal.

The next day the work of gathering in the figs was carried on earnestly and steadily, with the aid of the workers whom Simon had hired in the town, and in two days the trees were all stripped, and strings of figs hung to dry from the boughs of all the trees round the house. Then the gathering of the grapes began. All the inhabitants of the little fishing village lent their aid—men as well as women and children, for the vintage was looked upon as a holiday, and Simon was regarded as a good friend by his neighbors, being ever ready to aid them when there was need, judging any disputes which arouse between them, and lending them money without interest if misfortune came upon their boats or nets, or if illness befell them; while the women in times of sickness or trouble went naturally to Martha with their griefs, and were assured of sympathy, good advice, and any drugs or dainty food suited to the case. The women and girls picked the grapes and laid them in baskets; these were carried by men and emptied into the vat, where other men trod them down and pressed out the juice. Martha and her maids saw to the cooking and laying out on the great table in the courtyard of the meals, to which all sat down together. Simon superintended the crushing of the grapes, and John worked now at one task and now at another. It was a pretty scene, and rendered more gay by the songs of the women and girls as they worked, and the burst of merry laughter which at times arose.

It lasted four days, by which time the last bunch, save those on a few vines preserved for eating, was picked and crushed, and the vats in the cellar, sunk underground for coolness, were full to the brim. Simon was much pleased with the result, and declared that never in his memory had the vine and fig harvest turned out more abundant. The corn had long before been gathered, and there remained now only the olives, but it would be some little time yet before these were fit to be gathered and their oil extracted, for they were allowed to hang on the trees until ready to drip. The last basket of grapes was brought in with much ceremony, the gatherers forming a little procession and singing a thanksgiving hymn as they walked; the evening meal was more bounteous even than usual, and all who helped carried away with them substantial proofs of Simon’s thankfulness and satisfaction.

For the next few days Simon and his men and Martha’s maids lent their assistance in getting in the vintage of their neighbors, for each family had its patch of ground and grew sufficient grapes and fruits for its own needs. Those in the village brought their grapes to a vat which they had in common, the measures of the grapes being counted as they were put in, and the wine afterward divided in like proportion; for wine to be good must be made in considerable quantities.

And now there was a time little to do on the farm. Simon superintended the men who were plowing up the corn stubbles ready for the sowing in the spring, sometimes putting his hand to the plow and driving the oxen. Isaac and his son worked in the vineyard and garden near the house, aided to some extent by John, who, however, was not yet called upon to take a man’s share of the work of the farm, he having but lately finished his learning with the rabbi at the school in Hippos. Still he worked steadily every morning, and in the afternoon generally went out on the lake with the fishermen, with whom he was a great favorite. This was not to last long, for at seventeen he was to join his father regularly in the management of the farm, and indeed the Rabbi Solomon, who was a frequent guest, was of opinion that Simon gave the boy too much license, and that he ought already be doing man’s work; but Simon when urged by him said:

“I know that at his age I was working hard, rabbi, but the lad has studied diligently and I have a good report of him, and I think it well that at his age the bow should be unbent somewhat; besides, who know what is before us! I will let the lad have as much pleasure from his life as he can. The storm is approaching; let him play while the sun shines.”

Chapter II: A Storm on Galilee


One day after the midday meal John said: 'Mary, Raphael and his brother have taken the big boat and gone off with fish to Tiberias, and have told me that I can take the small boat if I will. Ask my mother to let you off your task and come out with me. It is a fortnight since we had a row on the lake together.'

'I was beginning to think that you were never going to ask me again, John; and only I should punish myself, I would say you nay. There have you been going out fishing every afternoon, and leaving me at home to spin; and it is all the worse because your mother has said that the time is fast coming when I must give up wandering about like a child, and must behave myself like a woman. Oh, dear, how tiresome it will be when there will be nothing to do but to sit and spin, and to look after the house, and to walk instead of running when I am out, and to behave like grown-up person altogether.'

'You are almost grown-up,' John said; 'you are taller now than any of the maids except Zillah; but I shall be sorry to see you growing staid and solemn. And it was selfish of me not to ask you to go out before, but I really did not think of it. The fishermen have been working hard to make up for the time lost during the harvest, and I have really been useful helping them with their nets, and this is the last year I shall have my liberty. But come, don't let's be wasting time in talking; run in and get my mother's permission, and then join me on the shore. I will take some grapes down for you to eat, for the sun is hot to-day and there is scarce a breath of wind on the water.'

A few minutes later the young pair stood together by the side of the boat.

'Your mother made all sorts of objections,' Mary said, laughing; 'and I do think she won't let me come again. I don't think she would have done it to-day if Miriam had not stood up for me and said that I was but a child though I was so tall, and that, as you are very soon going to work with your father, she thought that it was no use in making the change before that.'

'What nonsense it all is!' John said. 'Besides, you know it is arranged that in a few months we are to be betrothed according to the wish of your parents and mine. It would have been done long ago only my father and mother do not approve of young betrothals, and think it better to wait to see if the young ones like each other; and I think that it is quite right, too, in most cases' only, of course, living here as you have done for the last three years, since your father and mother died, there was no fear of our not liking each other.'

'Well, you see,' Mary said as she sat in the stern of the boat while John rowed it quietly along, 'it might have been just the other way: when people don't see anything of each other till they are betrothed by their parents, they can't dislike each other very much; whereas when they get to know each other, if they are disagreeable they might get to almost hate each other.'

'Yes, there is something in that,' John agreed. 'Of course, in our case it is all right, because we do like each other we couldn't have liked each other more, I think, if we had been brother and sister; but it seems to me that sometimes it must be horrid when a boy is told by his parents that he is to be betrothed to a girl he has never seen. You see, it isn't as if it were for a short time, but for all one's life. It must be awful!'

'Awful!' Mary agreed heartily, 'but of course it would have to be done.'

'Of course,' John said, the possibility of a lad refusing to obey his parents' commands not even occurring to him 'Still, it doesn't seem to me quite right that one should have no choice in so important a matter. Of course when one's got a father and mother like mine, who would be sure to think only of making me happy, and not of the amount of dowry or anything of that sort, it would be all right; but with some parents it would be dreadful.'

For some time not a word was spoken, both of them meditating over the unpleasantness of being forced to marry some one they disliked. Then, finding the subject too difficult for them, they began to talk about other things, stopping sometimes to see the fishermen haul up their nets, for there were a number of boats out on the lake. They rowed down as far as Tiberias, and there John ceased rowing, and they sat chatting over the wealth and beauty of that city, which John had often visited with his father, but which Mary had never entered. Then John turned the head of the boat up the lake and again began to row, but scarcely had he dipped his oar into the water when he exclaimed:

'Look that that black cloud rising at the other end of the lake! Why did you not tell me, Mary''

'How stupid of me,' she exclaimed, 'not to have kept my eyes open!'

He bent to his oars and made the boat move through the water at a very different rate to that at which she had before traveled.

'Most of the boats have gone,' Mary said presently, 'and the rest are all rowing to the shore, and the clouds are coming up very fast,' she added looking around.

'We are going to have a storm,' John said, 'it will be upon us long before we get back. I shall make for the shore, Mary. We must leave the boat there and take shelter for awhile, and then walk home. It will not be more than four miles to walk.'

But though he spoke cheerfully, John knew enough of the sudden storms that bursts upon the Sea of Galilee to be aware that long before he could cross the mile and a half of water which separated them from the eastern shore the storm would be upon them; and indeed they were not more than half-way when it burst.

The sky was already covered with black clouds; a great darkness gathered round them; then came a heavy downpour of rain; and then with a sudden burst the wind smote them. It was useless now to try to row, for the oars would have been twisted from his hands in a moment; and John took the helm, and told Mary to lie down in the bottom of the boat. He had already turned the boat's head up the lake, the direction in which the storm was traveling.

The boat sprang forward as if it had received a blow when the gale struck it. John had more than once been out on the lake with the fishermen when sudden storms had come up, and knew what was best to be done. When he had laid in his oars he had put them so that the blades stood partly up above the bow and caught the wind somewhat, and he himself crouched down in the bottom, with his head below the gunwale and his hand on the tiller; so that the tendency of the boat was to drive straight before the wind. With a strong crew he knew that he could have rowed obliquely toward the sore, but alone his strength could have done nothing to keep the heavy boat off her course.

The sea rose as if by magic, and the spray was soon dashing over them; each wave, as it followed the boat, rising higher and higher. The shores were no longer visible, and the crests of the waves seemed to gleam with a pallid light in the darkness which surrounded them. John sat quietly in the bottom of the boat, with one hand on the tiller and the other hand around Mary, who was crouched up against him. She had made no cry or exclamation from the moment the gale struck them.

'Are we getting near the shore?' she asked at last.

'No, Mary; we are running straight before the wind, which is blowing right up the lake. There is nothing to be done but to keep straight before it.'

Mary had seen many storms on the lake, and knew into what a fury its waters were lashed in a tempest such as was now upon them.

'We are in God's hands, John,' she said with the quiet resignation of her race. 'He can save us if he will; let us pray to him.'

John nodded, and for a few minutes no word was spoken.

'Can I do anything'' Mary asked presently as a wave struck the stern and threw a mass of water into the boat.

'Yes,' john replied; 'take that earthen pot and bail out the water.'

John had no great hope that they would live through the gale, but he thought it better for the girl to be kept busily employed. She bailed steadily; but fast as she worked the water came in faster, for each wave, as it swept past them, broke on board. So rapidly were they traveling that John had the greatest difficulty in keeping the boat from broaching to, in which case the flowing waves would have filled or overturned her.

'I don't think it's any use, John,' Mary said quietly as a great wave broke on board, pouring in as much water in a second as she could have bailed out in ten minutes.

'No use, dear. Sit quietly by me; but first pull those oars aft; now tie them together with that piece of rope. Now when the boat goes down keep tight hold of them. Cut off another piece of rope and give it me. When we are in the water I will fasten you to the oars. They will keep you afloat easily enough. I will keep close to you. You know I am a good swimmer; and whenever I feel tired I can rest my hands on the oars too. Keep up your courage and keep as quiet as you can. These sudden storms seldom last long, and my father will be sure to get the boats out as soon as he can to look for us.'

John spoke cheerfully, but he had no great hope of their being able to live in so rough a sea. Mary had still less, but she quietly carried out John's instruction. The boat was half-filled of water now and rose but heavily upon the waves. John raised himself and looked round, in hopes that he wind might unnoticed have shifted a little and blown them toward shore. As he glanced around him he gave a shout. Following almost in their tracks and some fifty yards away, was a large galley running before the wind, with a rag of sail set on its mast.

'We are saved, Mary!' he exclaimed. 'Here is a galley close to us.'

He shouted loudly, though he knew that his voice could not be heard many yards away on the teen of the gale; but almost directly he saw two or three men stand up in the bow of the galley. One was pointing toward them, and he saw that they were seen. In another minute the galley came sweeping along close to the boat. A dozen figures appeared over her side, and two or three ropes were thrown. John caught one, twisted it rapidly round Mary's body and his own, knotted it, and, taking her in his arms, jumped overboard. Another minute they were drawn alongside the galley and pulled on board. As soon as the ropes were unfastened John rose to his feet, but Mary lay insensible on the deck.

'Carry the damsel into the cabin,' a man who was evidently in authority said. 'She has fainted, but will soon come around. I will see to her myself.'

The suddenness of the rescue, the plunge in the water, and the sudden revulsion of his feelings, affected John so much that it was two or three minutes before he could speak.

'Come along with me, lad,' one of the sailors said, laying his hand on his shoulder. 'Some dry clothes and a draught of wine will set you all right again; but you have had a narrow escape of it. That boat of yours was pretty nearly water-logged, and in another five minutes we should have been too late.'

John hastily changed his clothes in the forecastle, took a draught of wine, and then hurried back again toward the aft cabin. Just as he reached it the man who had ordered Mary to be carried in came out.

'The damsel has opened her eyes,' he said, 'and you need not be uneasy about her. I have given her some woolen cloths, and bade her take off her wet garments and wrap herself in them. Why did you not make for the shore before the tempest broke' It was foolish of you indeed to be out on the lake when any one could see that this gale was coming.'

'I was rowing down and did not notice it until I turned,' John replied. 'I was making for the shore when the gale struck her.'

'It was well for you that I noticed you. I was myself thinking of making for the shore, although in so large and well-manned a craft as this there is little fear upon the lake. It is not like the Great Sea, where I myself have seen a large ship as helpless before the waves as that small boat we picked you from. I had just set out from Tiberias when I marked the storm coming up; but my business was urgent, and, moreover, I marked your little boat and saw that you were not likely to gain the shore, so I bade the helmsman keep his eye on you until the darkness fell upon us, and then to follow straight in your wake, for you could but run before the wind; and well he did it, for when we first caught sight of you you were right ahead of us.'

The speaker was a man of about thirty years of age, tall, and with a certain air of command.

'I thank you, indeed, sir,' John said, 'for saving my life and that of my cousin Mary, the daughter of my father's brother. Truly my father and mother will be grateful to you for having saved us, for I am their only son. Whom are they to thank for our rescue''

'I am Joseph, the son of Matthias, to whom the Jews have entrusted the governorship of this province.'

'Josephus!' John exclaimed in a tone of surprise and reverence.

'So men call me,' Josephus replied with a smile.

It was indeed the governor. Flavius Josephus, as the Romans afterward called him, came of a noble Jewish family, his father, Matthias, belonging to the highest of the twenty-four classes into which the sacerdotal families were divided. Matthias was eminent for his attainments and piety, and had been one of the leading men in Jerusalem. From his youth Josephus had carefully prepared himself for public life, mastering the doctrines of the three leading sects among the Jews: the Pharisees, Sadducees, and Essenes -- and having spent three years in the desert with Banus the Ascetic. The fact that at only twenty-six years of age he had gone as the leader of a deputation to Rome on behalf of some priests sent there by Felix shows that he was early looked upon as a conspicuous person among the Jews, and he was but thirty when he was intrusted with the important position of governor of Galilee.

Contrary to the custom of the times, he had sought to make no gain from his position. He accepted neither presents nor bribes, but devoted himself entirely to ameliorating the condition of the people, and in repressing the turbulence of the lower classes of the great towns, and of the robber chieftains who, like John of Gischala, took advantage of the authority caused by the successful rising against the Romans to plunder and tyrannize over the people.

The expression of the face of Josephus was lofty and at the same time gentle. His temper was singularly equable, and whatever the circumstances he never gave way to anger, but kept his passions well under control. His address was soft and winning, and he had the art of attracting respect and friendship from all who came in contact with him. Poppæa, the wife of Nero, had received him with much favor; and bravely as he fought against them, Vespasian and Titus were afterward as much attached to him as were the Jews of Galilee. There can be no doubt that had he been otherwise placed than as one of a people on the verge of destruction, Josephus would have been one of the great figures of history.

John had been accustomed to hear his father and his friends speak in tones of such admiration for Josephus as the man who was regarded not only as the benefactor of the Jews of Galilee, but as the leader and mainstay of the nation, that he has long ardently desired to see him; and to find that he had now been rescued from death by him, and that he was now talking to him face to face, filled him with confusion.

'You are a brave lad,' Josephus said, 'for you kept your head well in a time when older men might have lost their presence of mind. You must have kept your boat dead before the wind, and you were quick and ready in seizing the rope and knotting it round yourself and the maid with you. I feared you might try and fasten it to the boat. If you had, full of water as she was, and fast as we were sailing before the wind, the rope would barely have stood the strain.'

'The clouds are breaking,' the captain of the boat said, coming up to Josephus, 'and I think that we are past the worst of the gale. And well it is so, for even in so stanch a craft there is much peril in such a sea as this.'

The vessel, although one of the largest on the lake, was indeed pitching and rolling very heavily, but she was light and buoyant, and each time that she plunged bows under, as the following waves lifted her stern high in the air, she rose lightly again, and scarce a drop fell into her deep waist, the lofty erections fore and aft throwing off the water.

'Where do you belong, my lad'' Josephus asked. 'I fear that it is impossible for us to put you ashore until we reach Capernaum; but once there, I will see that you are provided with means to take you home.'

'Our farm lies three miles above Hippos.'

'That is unfortunate,' Josephus said, 'since it lies on the opposite side of the lake to Capernaum. However, we shall see. If the storm goes down rapidly I may be able to get a fishing-boat to take you across this evening, for your parents will be in sore trouble. If not, you must wait till early morning.'

In another hour they reached Capernaum. The wind had by this time greatly abated, although the sea still ran high. The ship was soon alongside a landing-jetty which ran out a considerable distance, and formed a breakwater protecting the shipping from the heavy sea which broke there when the wind was, as at present, from the south. Mary came out from the cabin, as the vessel entered the harbor, wrapped up from head to food in the woolen cloths with which she had been furnished. John sprang to her side.

'Are you quite well, Mary''

'Quite well,' she said, 'only very ashamed of having fainted, and very uncomfortable in these wrappings. But, oh! John, how thankful we ought to be to God for having sent this ship to our aid when all seemed lost!'

'We ought indeed, Mary. I have been thanking him as I have been standing here watching the waves, and I am sure you have been doing the same in the cabin.'

'Yes, indeed, John. But what am I to do now' I do not like going on shore like this, and the officer told me I was on no account to put on my wet clothes.'

'Do you know, it is Josephus himself, Mary think of that  the great Josephus, who has saved us! He marked our boat before the storm broke and seeing that we could not reach the shore, had his vessel steered so as to overtake us.'

Mary was too surprised to utter more than an exclamation. The thought that the man who had been talking so kindly and pleasantly to her was the great leader of whom she had heard so much quite took away her breath.

At that moment Josephus himself came up.

'I am glad to see you have got your color again, maiden,' he said. 'I am just going to land. Do you with your cousin remain on board here. I will send a woman down with some attire for you. She will conduct you both to the house where I shall be staying. The sea is going down, and the captain tells me that he thinks in another three or four hours I shall be able to get a boat to send you across to your home. It will be late, but you will not mind that, for they are sure not to retire to rest at home, but to be up all night searching for you.'

A crowd assembled on the jetty, for Josephus was expected, and the violent storm had excited the fears of all for his safety, and the leading inhabitants had all flocked down to welcome him when his vessel was seen approaching.

'Isn't he kind and good?' Mary said enthusiastically as she watched the greeting which he received as he landed. 'He talked to me just as if he had been of my own family.'

'He is grand!' John agreed with equal enthusiasm. 'He is just what I pictured to myself that a great leader would be, such as Joshua, or Gideon, or the Prince of the Maccabees.'

'Yes, but more gentle, John.'

'Brave men should always be gentle,' John said positively.

'They ought to be, perhaps,' Mary agreed, 'but I don't think they are.'

They chatted then about the storm and the anxiety which they would be feeling at home until an officer, accompanied by a woman carrying attire for Mary, came on board.

Mary soon came out of the cabin dressed, and the officer conducted them to the house which had been placed at the disposal of Josephus. The woman led them up to a room where a meal has been prepared for them.

'Josephus is in council with the elders,' she said; 'he bade me see that you had all that you required. He has arranged that a bark shall start with you as soon as the sea goes down, but if by eight o'clock it is still too rough, I shall take the maiden home to my house to sleep, and they will arouse you as soon as it is safe to put out, whatever the hour may be, as your friends will be in great anxiety concerning you.'

The sun had already set, and just as they finished their meal the man belonging to the boat came to say that it would be midnight before he could put out.

Mary then went over with the woman, and John lay down on some mats to sleep until it was time to start. He slept soundly until he was aroused by the entry of some one with lights. He started to his feet, and found that it was Josephus himself with an attendant.

'I had not forgotten you,' he said; 'but I have been until now in council. It is close upon midnight, and the boat is in readiness I have sent to fetch the damsel, and have bidden them take plenty of warm wraps so that the night air may do her no harm.'

Mary soon arrived, and Josephus himself went down with them to the shore and saw them on board the boat, which was a large one with eight rowers. The wind had died away to a gentle breeze, and the sea had gone down greatly. The moon was up and the stars shining brightly. Josephus chatted kindly to John as they made their way to the shore.

'Tell your father,' he said, 'that I hope he will come over to see me ere long, and that I shall bear you in mind. The time is coming when every Jew who can bear arms will be needed in the service of his country, and if your father consents I will place you near my person for I have seen that you are brave and cool in danger, and you will have plenty of opportunities of winning advancement.'

With many thanks for his kindness John and Mary took their places in the stern of the boat. Mary enveloped herself in the wraps that had been prepared for her, for the nights were chilly. Then the sail was hoisted, and the boat sailed away from the land. The wind had shifted round somewhat to the west, and they were able to lay their course across toward Hippos, but their progress was slow, and the master bade the crew out their oars and aid the sail.

In three hours they neared the land, John pointing out the exact position of the village, which was plainly enough marked out by a great fire blazing on the shore. As they approached it they could see several figures, and presently there came a shout which John recognized as that of Isaac.

'Any news''

'Here we are, Isaac, safe and well.'

There was a confused sound of shouts and cries of pleasure. In a few minutes the boat grated on the shallow shore. The moment she did so John leaped out over the bow and waded ashore, and was at once clasped in his mother's arms, while one of the fishermen carried Mary to land. She received from Martha a full share of her caresses, for she loved the girl almost as dearly as she did her son. Then Miriam and the maids embraced and kissed her, while Isaac folded John in his arms.

'The God of Israel be thanked and praised, my children!' Mary exclaimed. 'He has brought you back to us as from the dead, for we never thought to see you again. Some of the fishermen returned and told us that they saw your boat far on the lake before the storm burst, and none held out hope that you could have weathered such a storm.'

'Where is father'' John asked.

'He is out on the lake, as are all the fishermen of their village, searching for you. That reminds me, Isaac' set fire to the other piles of wood that we have prepared. If one of the boats returned with any sure new of you we were to light them to call the others back: one fire if the news was bad, tow if it was good; but we hardly even dared to hope that the second would be required.

A brand from the fire was soon applied to the other piles, and the three fires shone out across the lake with the good news. In a quarter of an hour a boat was seen approaching, and soon came a shout:

'Is all well''

'All is well,' John shouted in reply, and soon he was clasped in his father's arms.

The other boats came in one by one, the last to arrive towing in the boat, which had been found bottom upward far up the lake, its discovery destroying the last hope of its late occupants being found alive. As soon as Simon landed the party returned to the house. Miriam and the maids hurried to prepare a meal, of which all were sorely in need, for no food had been eaten since the gale burst on the lake, while their three hours in the boat had again sharpened the appetite of John and Mary. A quantity of food was cooked and a skin of old wine brought up from the cellar, and Isaac remained down on the shore to bid all who had been engaged in the search come up and feast as soon as they landed.

John related to his parents the adventure which had befallen them, and they wondered greatly at the narrowness of their deliverance. When the feasting was over, Simon called all together, and solemnly returned thanks to God for the mercies which he had given them. It was broad daylight before all sought their beds for a few hours before beginning the work of the day.

A week later Josephus himself came to Hippos, bringing with him two nobles who had fled from King Agrippa and sought refuge with him; he had received them hospitably, and had allotted a home to them at Tarichea, where he principally dwelt. He had just before had another narrow escape, for six hundred armed men (robbers and others) had assembled round his house, charging him with keeping some spoils which had been taken by a party of men of that town from the wife of Ptolemy, King Agrippa's procurator, instead of dividing them among the people.

For a time he pacified them by telling them that this money was destined for strengthening the walls of their town and for walling other towns at present undefended, but the leaders of the evil-doers were determined to set his house on fire and slay him. He had but twenty armed men with him. Closing the doors he went to an upper room and told the robbers to send in one of their number to receive the money. Directly he entered the door was closed. One of his hands was cut off and hung round his neck, and he was then turned out again. Believing that Josephus would not have ventured to act so boldly had he not had a large body of armed men with him, the crowd were seized with panic and fled to their homes.

After this the enemies of Josephus persuaded the people that the nobles he had sheltered were wizards, and demanded that they should be given up to be slain, unless they would change religion to that of the Jews. Josephus tried to argue them out of their belief, saying that there were no such things as wizards, and if the Romans had wizards who could work them wrong they would not need to send an army to fight against them; but as the people still clamored he got the men privately on board a ship, and sailed across the lake with them to Hippos, where he dismissed them with many presents.

As soon as the news came that Josephus had come to Hippos, Simon set out with Martha, John, and Mary to see him. Josephus received them kindly, and would permit no thanks for what he had done.

'Your son is a brave youth,' he said to Simon, 'and I would gladly have him near me if you would like to have it so. This is the time when there are greater things than planting vineyards and gathering in harvests to be done, and there is a need for brave and faithful men. If, then, you and your wife will give the lad to me I will see to him and keep him near me. I have need of faithful men with me, for my enemies are ever trying to slay me. If all goes well with the land he will have a good opportunity to rise to honor. What say you' Do not give an answer hastily, but think it over among yourselves, and if you agree to my proposal send him across the lake to me.

'It need no thought, sir,' Simon said. 'I know well that there are more urgent things now than sowing and reaping, and that much trouble and peril threaten the land. Right glad am I that my son should serve one who is the hope of Israel, and his mother will not grudge him for such service. As to advancement, I wish nothing better than that he should till the land of his fathers; but none can say what the Lord hath in store for us, or whether strangers may not reap what I have sown. Thus, then, the wisdom which he will gain in being with you is likely to be a far better inheritance than any I can give him. What say you, Martha''

'I say as you do, Simon. It will grieve me to part with him, but I know that such an offer as that which my Lord Josephus makes is greatly for his good. Moreover, the manner in which he was saved from death seems to show that the Lord has something for his hand to do and that his path is specially marked out for him. To refuse to let him go would be to commit the sin of withstanding God' therefore, my lord, I willingly give up my son to follow you.'

'I think that you have decided wisely,' Josephus said. 'I tarry here for to-night, and to-morrow cross to Tiberias, therefore let him be here by noon.'

Mary was the most silent of the party on the way home. Simon and his wife felt convinced the decision they had made was a wise one, and although they were not ambitious, they yet felt that the offer of Josephus was a most advantageous one, and opened a career of honor to their son.

John himself was in a state of the highest delight. To be about the person of Josephus seemed to him the greatest honor and happiness. It opened the way to the performance of great actions which would bring honor to his father's name; and although he had been hitherto prepared to settle down to the life of a cultivator of the soil, he had had his yearnings for one of more excitement and adventure, and these were now likely to be gratified to the fullest. Mary, however, felt the approaching loss of her friend and playmate greatly, though even she was not insensible to the honor which the offer of Josephus conferred upon him.

'You don't seem glad of my good fortune, Mary,' John said as, after they returned home, they strolled together as usual down to the edge of the lake.

'It may be your good fortune, but it's not mine,' the girl said pettishly. 'It will be very dull here without you. I know what it will be. Your mother will always be full of anxiety, and will be fretting whenever we get news of any disturbances, and that is often enough, for there seem to be disturbances continually. Your father will go about silently, Miriam will be sharper than usual with the maids, and everything will go wrong. I can't see why you couldn't have said that in a year or two you would go with the governor, but that at present you thought you had better stop with your own people.'

'A nice milksop he would have thought me!' John laughed. 'No. If he thought I was man enough to do him service it would have been a nice thing for me to say that I thought I was too young. Besides, Mary, after all it is your good fortune as well as mine, for is it not settled that you are to share it' Josephus is all-powerful, and if I please him and do my duty he can, in time, raise me to a position of great honor. I may even come to be the governor of a town, or a captain over troops, or a councilor,'

'No, no!' Mary laughed; 'not a councilor, John -' a governor perhaps, and a captain perhaps, but never, I should say, a councilor.' John laughed good-temperedly.

'Well, Mary, then you shall look forward to be the wife of a governor or captain, but you see I might even fill the place of a councilor with credit, because I could always come to you for advice before I gave an opinion, then I should be sure to be right. But, seriously, Mary, I do think it great honor to have had such an offer made me by the governor.'

'Seriously, so do I, John, though I wish in my heart he had not made it. I had looked forward to living here all my life, just as your mother has done, and now there will be nothing fixed to look forward to. Besides, where there is honor there is danger. There seems to be always tumults, always conspiracies, and then, as your father says, above all, there are the Romans to be reckoned with; and, of course, if you are near Josephus you run a risk, going wherever he does.'

'I shall never be in greater risk, Mary, than we were together on the lake the other day. God helped us then and brought us through it, and I have faith that he will do so again. It may be that I am meant to do something useful before I die. At any rate, when the Romans come every one will have to fight, so I shall be in no greater danger than any one else.'

'I know, John; and I am not speaking quite in earnest. I am sorry you are going, that is only natural; but I am proud that you are to be near our great leader, and I believe that our God will be your shield and protector. And now we had better go in. Your father will doubtless have much to say to you this evening, and your mother will grudge every minute you are out of her sight.'

That evening the Rabbi Solomon Ben Manasseh came in, and was informed of the offer which Josephus had made.

“You are present, rabbi,” Simon said, “at the events which took place in Jerusalem, and at the defeat of Cestius. John has been asking me to tell him more about these matters; for now that he is to be with the governor it is well that he should be well acquainted with public affairs.”

“I will willingly tell him the history, for, as you say, it is right that the young man should be well acquainted with the public events and the state of parties, and though the story must be somewhat long, I will try and not make it tedious. The first tumult broke out in Cæsarea, and began by frays between our people and the Syrian Greeks. Felix, the governor, took the part of the Greeks, and many of our people were killed and more plundered. When Felix was recalled to Rome we sent a deputation there with charges against him; but the Greeks, by means of bribery, obtained a decree against us, depriving the Jews of Cæsarea of rights of equal citizenship. From this constant troubles arouse; but outside Cæsarea Festus kept all quiet, putting down robbers as well as impostors who led the people astray.

“Then there came trouble in Jerusalem. King Agrippa’s palace stood on Mount Zion, looking toward the temple, and he built a lofty story from whose platform he could command a view of the courts of the Temple, and watch the sacrifices. Our people resented this impious intrusion, and built a high wall to cut off the view. Agrippa demanded its destruction on the ground that it intercepted the view of the Roman guard. We appealed to Nero, and sent to him a deputation headed by Ismael, the high-priest, and Hilkiah, the treasurer. They obtained an order for the wall to be allowed to stand; but Ismael and Hilkiah were detained in Rome. Agrippa thereupon appointed another high-priest, Joseph, but soon afterward nominated Annas in his place.

“When Festus, the Roman governor, was away Annas put to death many of the sect called Christians to gratify the Sadducees. The people were indignant, for these men had done no harm, and Agrippa deprived him of the priesthood and appointed Jesus, son of Damnai. Then, unhappily, Festus, who was a just and good governor, died, and Albinus succeeded him. He was a man greedy of money, and ready to do anything for gain; he took bribes from robbers and encouraged rather than repressed evil-doers. There was open war in the streets between the followers of various chief robbers. Albinius opened the prisons and filled the city with malefactors, and at the completion of the works at the Temple eighteen thousand workmen were discharged, and thus the city was filled with men ready to sell their services to the highest bidder.

“Albinus was succeeded by Gessius Florus, who was even worse than Albinus. This man was a great friend of Cestius Gallus, who commanded the Roman troops in Syria, and who therefore scoffed at the complaints of the people against Florus. At this time strange prodigies appeared in Rome. A sword of fire hung above the city for a whole year. The inner gate of the Temple, which required twenty men to move it, opened by itself, chariots and armed squadrons were seen in the heavens, and, worse than all, the priests in the Temple heard a great movement and a sound of many voices, which said, “Let us depart hence!”

“So things went on in Jerusalem until the old feud at Cæsarea broke out afresh. The trouble this time began about one of our synagogues. The land around it belonged to the Greek, and for this our people offered a high price. The heathen who owned it refused, and to annoy us raised mean houses round the synagogue. The Jewish youths interrupted the workmen, and the wealthier of the community, headed by John, a publican, subscribed eight talents and sent them to Florus as a bribe, that he might order the building to be stopped.

“Forus took the money and made many promises; but the evil man desired that a revolt should place in order that he might gain great plunder. So he went away from Cæsarea and did nothing, and a great tumult arose between the heathen and our people. In this we were worsted and went away from the city, while John, with twelve of the highest rank, went to Samaria to lay the matter before Florus, who threw them into prison, doubtless the more to excite the people, and at the same time sent to Jerusalem and demanded seventeen talents from the treasure of the Temple.

“The people burst into loud outcries, and Florus advanced upon the city with all his force. But we knew that we could not oppose the Romans, and so received Florus on his arrival with acclamations. But this did not suit the tyrant. The next morning he ordered his troops to plunder the upper market and put to death all they met. The soldiers obeyed, and slew thirty-six hundred men, women, and children.

“You may imagine, John, the feelings of grief and rage which filled every heart. The next day the multitude assembled in the market-place, wailing for the dead and cursing Florus. But the principal men of the city, with the priests, tore their robes, and went among them praying them to disperse and not to provoke the anger of the governor. The people obeyed their voices and went quietly home.

“But Florus was not content that matters should end so. He sent for the priests and leaders and commanded them to go forth and receive with acclamations of