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My Dear Father:—It is many months since you have
received a letter from me, written with my own
hand; and I rejoice that I am so far restored to health as
to resume my correspondence with you. I cannot speak
to you too warmly in praise of my uncle Amos and cousin
Mary, during my illness. By their care and nursing, under
the blessing of God, I am now nearly well. The pure air
of the mountains of Galilee being recommended to me,
they journeyed with me thither, and at the foot of Mount
Tabor, in the lovely village of Nain, I have passed many
weeks, reviving each day.

We are now at the humble abode of a widow, whose
husband had been lost on the Great Sea, on which he was
a seaman in one of the merchant ships of Cesarea. The
cottage of the widow stands in a garden, from which is a
sublime view of Tabor, in all the majesty of his mountain
grandeur. One day while I was in the garden walking,
two men, dusty and travel-worn, stopped at the half-open
gate, and saluting us, said:

“Peace be to this house, maiden, and all who dwell
here.”

“Enter,” said the widow, overhearing them, “enter,

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and ye shall have water for your feet, and bread for your
hunger.”

The two men then entered and seated themselves; and
having been refreshed by the poor, but hospitable widow,
one of them rose and said:

“This day is salvation come to this house. We are
ambassadors of Jesus of Nazareth, and go from city to city,
proclaiming the day of the Lord at hand, for Messias is
come!”

At hearing these words, Mary and I both exclaimed
with joy that we had both seen and heard Jesus at Jerusalem,
and believed on him. Upon this they looked greatly
pleased; and answered our inquiries respecting the
Prophet, that he was in Samaria, preaching and working
miracles, and proclaiming his kingdom. When we heard
this we rejoiced exceedingly, for we had not heard of him
for a long time. From them we learned that he had
chosen twelve apostles, who always went with him, and
were daily taught of him: and also, more recently, seventy
others, whom he sent two and two into every city, to herald
his approach.

“Will he, then, come to Nain?” said the widow, with
emotion. “I should be willing to die so that I could lay
my eyes once upon so great and holy a man!”

“Yes, he will come hither,” answered the men; “and
when we shall report to him your hospitality to us, he
will visit your house; for he never forgets a cup of water
given to one of his disciples.”

The men then departed, calling the peace of God upon
our abode. They had not been gone many minutes
before we heard a great commotion in the market-place

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near by. Upon going to the house-top, we beheld these
two men standing upon an elevation, and preaching the
kingdom of Christ at hand, and calling upon all who heard
them to repent of their evil deeds and lead a godly life;
for Jesus would one day judge them according to the
deeds done in the body. Upon this, some cried out
against Jesus, and others threw stones at the two men;
and when we reached the house-top, we saw one of them
remove his sandals and shake the dust from them, saying
in a loud voice:

“As ye reject the words of life, your sins remain upon
you, as I return to you again the dust of your city.”

They then departed, followed by Levites and men of the
baser sort, who fairly drove them from the town. This
hostility, we found, was caused by an order from the
Great Sanhedrim, to all the synagogues and priests in the
land, that they should denounce all who preach Jesus of
Nazareth as the Christ.

While we were grieving at this enmity against a Prophet
sent from God, whose life was a series of good deeds, there
entered hastily a fair young maid whose name was Ruth.
She held an open letter in her hand, and her beautiful face
glowed rosily with some secret joy, which contrasted
strangely with the present sadness of our own. We knew
Ruth well, and loved her as if she had been a sister. She
was an orphan, and dwelt with her uncle, Elihaz, the
Levite, a man of influence in the town. She was artless,
unsuspecting, and very interesting in all her ways.

“What good news, dear Ruth?” asked Mary, smiling
at her bright smiles. “A letter from whom?”

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“For Sarah,” answered the pretty maid, blushing so
timidly and consciously, that we half suspected the truth.

“But that is not telling us from whom,” persevered
Mary, with a little playfulness.

“You can guess,” she answered, glancing over her
white shoulder, as she bounded away from us into the house.

We were soon after her, and heard her as she cried,
putting the letter into the dear widow's hand:

“From Samuel!”

“God be blessed,” cried the widow, “my son liveth, and
is well.”

“Read, dear Sarah,” cried the maiden. “He was at
Alexandria when he wrote this, and will soon be at home.
Oh, happy, happy day!” added the over-joyed girl, quite
forgetful of our presence. But we had long known the
story of her pure love for the widow's son, and she had
made us confidants of all her hopes and fears, and read to
us all the letters that came from him on the seas, for he
went down to trade in the sea in ships, like his father
before him. We knew, too, that the youthful wanderer
loved her with as much devotion as she loved him, and
our hearts sympathized with her in her true affection.

“Nay,” said the widow, “my eyes are filled with tears
of gladness; I cannot see to read. Do thou read it aloud.
Let Adina and Mary also know what he writeth. Is the
letter to me, or thee, child?”

“To—to me, dear Sarah,” answered the maiden, with a
momentary embarrassment.

“Likely—likely; it is most natural thou shouldst get
the best part of the epistles. But so I hear and know he
is well, it is the same, writeth he to me or thee!”

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Ruth then cast a bright look upon us, and thus read
aloud from the letter from over the sea:

“Dearest Ruth:—I fear you have been impatient at
my long silence; but I love you not less, though you do
not often hear from me. Now that I am safe I will write
to you, which I would not do in a state of uncertainty.
Know that after our ship left Cesarea for Crete, we were
caught by a north wind, and in striving to make the east
end of the island, we lost way, and were driven upon
Africa, where we were wrecked, losing all our cargo, and
the lives of many who sailed with us. With others, I was
taken by the barbarians, and carried inland to a country
of rocky mountains, and there became a bondman to one
of the chief men of the nation wherein I was captivated.
At length, inspired by a consciousness of the anguish you
and my beloved mother must suffer, should you never
more hear tidings of me, I resolved to effect my escape.
After great perils, I reached the sea-side, and at the
expiration of many days, by following the coast, I was
taken on board by a small ship of Cyprus, and conveyed
to Alexandria. The vessel was owned by a rich merchant
of my own people, Manassah Benjamin Ben Israel, who,
finding me sick and destitute of all things, just as I
escaped, took me home to his hospitable house, and treated
me as a son till I recovered my health and strength; saying
that he had a daughter far away, in Judea, and he
hoped that if she ever needed the aid of strangers, God
would repay him by making them kind to her.”

Here Mary and I looked at each other with agitation
and pleased surprise.

“It was my father,” I exclaimed, with emotion; “I

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rejoice that his house became thy son's home, O, lady.
Blessed be my father!”

When Sarah heard that it was at your house, dear
father, her son had been so hospitably entertained, she
embraced me again and again, and entreated me to convey
to you her heartfelt gratitude; which I do herewith.
And it is, dearest father, because you know and love this
young man, so providentially thrown upon your care,
that I shall be so particular in recounting what I am
about to do concerning him.

Ruth ended the reading of the letter, which told that he
should return in the first ship bound to Sidon, or Cesarea,
when he hoped to behold her and his mother face to face,
and to receive as his bride, the maiden he had so long
loved and cherished in his heart.

Sarah now seemed to be drawn closer to me in affection,
and also so did Ruth, since they have learned that I
am the daughter of the noble Jew who did so much for
Samuel in a strange land. At length, as the day drew
near for me to leave, to return to Jerusalem, my health
being quite invigorated, we were all taken with delighted
surprise at the appearance of the long absent son and
lover in the midst of our happy circle.

Neither Mary nor I had ever seen him, and we were
impressed with his manly and sun-browned beauty, his
bold air, and frank, ingenuous manner. We could not but
agree that the pretty Ruth had shown fine taste. He
gave to me the package which you desired him to forward
to Jerusalem, and thus we all round had reason to
rejoice at his coming. But alas! my dear father, our joy
was short-lived! Little did we anticipate how speedily

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our rejoicings were to end in mourning. The very night
of his return, he was seized with a malignant fever, which
he had brought from Africa with him; and we were all
overwhelmed with grief.

It would be impossible to paint to you the anguish of
the mother; the heart-rending distress of his betrothed, as
they bent over his couch, and saw the fierce plague burning
him, as if he were in a furnace.

Unconscious of their presence, he raved wildly; and
sometimes fancied himself suffering thirst on the burning
sands of Africa; and now battling with the barbarians for
his life. All that physicians could do, and his friends
could do—for he was greatly beloved as well for his own
sake as for his mother's and Ruth's—all was of no avail.
This morning, the third day after his return, he expired
amid the most distressing agonies. Poor Ruth! She
cast herself in perfect abandonment of grief upon his lifeless
and disfigured corpse; and now that they have
removed her from the chamber of death, her shrieks fill
the house. His mother sits by him, the image of despair,
holding his cold hand in hers, and uttering wails of woe
sad enough to rend a Roman's heart:

“My son! my son! lost and found, to be torn from me
forever! Oh, that I had died for thee! Thou and Ruth
would then be happy. Would to God I had died for thee,
oh, my son, Samuel, my son!” It is like David bewailing
Absalom.

I write this sad news to you, dear father, knowing how
deeply you will mourn his death; for your letters show
me that you have formed for him almost a paternal
attachment, carried so far as a promise to provide him

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with a ship to trade in Egypt, after his marriage with
Ruth shall have taken place. Alas! instead of a bridal,
behold a funeral. Already the bearers are at the door,
and in a few minutes he will be borne forth upon the
dead-bier to the burial place without the city.

“Oh,” sighs Mary near me, as I write, “oh, that
Jesus, the mighty Prophet, had been here; he could
have healed him!” John has sent to her a message, saying
that he is travelling this way, on his message of
healing and teaching, and may be here this evening.
But what will it avail, dear father? Even Jesus cannot
return the dead to life! It was never known that the
dead rose again. Oh, if he could have been here yesterday,
his power over diseases would have enabled him to
save his precious life! But regrets are useless. The
noble young man is dead, and will live again only in the
resurrection of the just.

I hear the heavy tread of the dead-bearers in the court
below. The shrieks and wails of the mourning women
thrill my soul with awe. But above all, pierces the wild
cry of anguish of the bereaved mother! Ruth's voice is
hushed. She has been for the last hour inanimate as
marble, sitting with a glazed eye and rigid features gazing
on vacancy. Only by her pulse can it be said she lives!
Poor maiden! The blow is too terrible for her to bear.

My cousin Mary has this moment received a small roll
of parchment, which, from the flush in her cheek, I know
to be from her betrothed. She smiles sadly, and with
tears in her eyes hands it to me.

I have read it, dear father. It reads as follows: if I

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have time to transcribe it before the call to follow the
dead forth to burial is given:—

“Gadara, beyond Judea.

“The bearer, beloved, is one of the disciples of Jesus.
His name is Bartimeus. He was blind and poor, and
subsisted by begging; and, as you see, his sight is restored,
and he insists now on going from town to town where he
has been known as a blind man, to proclaim what Jesus
has done for him. He takes this to you. I write to say
that I wish thou mayest prosper in all things, and find
the health for which thou and thy cousin sought the air of
Mount Tabor. I have no greater joy than to hear of your
welfare. This letter cometh beseeching thee, lady, that as
we love one another unfeignedly, so may we soon be united
in that holy union which God hath blessed and commanded.
I would have thee bear in remembrance that
thou gavest thy promise hereto when last we met at Nazareth.
But, having much to say hereupon, I will not
commit it to paper and ink; but by to-morrow, or the day
after, I trust to come to you, and speak with you, dearly
beloved, face to face, those things which come now to my
lips. Farewell, lady, and peace be with you, and all in
your house. Greet thy friends in my name, letting them
know that we shall shortly be with you, with Amos, your
father, now our dear brother in the Lord. There are
many things which I have seen and heard touching my
holy Master, Jesus, and his holy mission to the world,
which I will declare unto you when we meet, that you also
may have fellowship with us in those things which we
know and believe concerning him. My Master saluteth
thee and all in your house; Amos, also, greeteth thee with

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a kiss. This is the second epistle I have written unto you
from Nazareth.”

“Oh, that the mighty Prophet had come one day
sooner!” cried Mary. “What woe and anguish would
have been spared poor Ruth and his mother! But the
will of Jehovah be done.”

We hear now, dear father, the voice of the governor of
the funeral, bidding us come down to bury the dead.

Farewell, dearest father. I know you will shed a tear
to the memory of the noble youth whose death has this
day filled all Nain with mourning. As I look from the
lattice, I see the concourse of people to be immense, filling
all the street. Now, may the God of our father Abraham
preserve and keep you, and suffer us once more to meet
face to face in joy and peace.

p612-259

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