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My Dear Father:—As I was closing my last letter to
you, intelligence reached my uncle Amos, that
Lazarus, the amiable brother of Martha and Mary, was
very ill. The message was brought by Melec, the old
Gibeonite slave, who, with tears in his eyes, communicated
to us the sad news. My cousin Mary and I at once
set out to go to Bethany with him, uncle Amos kindly
offering his two mules for us to ride upon, promising himself
to come out also after the evening service in the Temple,
if Lazarus should be no better.

We were soon beyond the city-walls, on the road to
Bethany, guided by the aged servant, who, every few
minutes, would urge us to ride faster; and then lifting
his hands and eyes, he would lament the danger of the
young man, and the destitution of his sisters, should he
be removed from them, he being, dear father, their only
support, as I once wrote you; his occupation being that
of copying out rolls of the Prophets for the uses of the
various synagogues.

Although we did not expect to be able to do much by
hastening to our dear relatives in their affliction, yet we
hoped by our presence and heartfelt sympathy to relieve

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much of the solicitude of the beloved sisters for their dear
brother.

“Knowest thou, Melec, the disease that has so suddenly
seized my cousin?” asked Mary, as we wound slowly up
the path that leads around the steepest side of Olivet.

“Ah, dear me, noble lady, I know not,” answered
Melec, shaking his head: “He had just returned from
the city, where he had been staying night and day for a
week, laboring industriously to complete a copy of the
Five Books of the blessed Moses for the Procurator's chief
captain, for which he was to receive a large sum in Roman
gold.”

“What was the name of this captain who seeks to obtain
our holy books?” I asked, hope half answering the
question in my heart.

“Emilius, the brave knight, they say, who was made
a proselyte at the last Passover; the same who captured
the famous robber, Barabbas, my lady.”

I was rejoiced to hear this proof of the steady desire of
the princely Roman knight to learn our sacred laws, you
may be assured, dearest father. But Melec went on speaking,
and said:

“It was his hard work to complete this copy which
made him ill; for he slept not, nor ceased to toil until he
had completed it; and when he came home with the silver-bound
roll in his hand, and laid it upon the table before
his sisters, he fell at the same moment fainting to the
ground. When they raised him up, he was in a fierce
fever, and raved so that he knew no one around him.”

“Alas, poor Lazarus!” we both exclaimed, and urged
our mules forward at a faster pace, our hearts bleeding

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for the sorrow of his sisters, and for his sad condition. I
have already told you, in a former letter, in which I described
my visit to the house of Mary and Martha, what a
noble and good young man their brother was—how he
was beloved by all who knew him; and commanded the
respect of his superiors by his dignity of bearing, while
his manly beauty won the hearts of the maidens who
were his sisters' friends. I told you how diligently he
toiled for the maintenance of those dearly loved sisters and
helpless mother, thinking only of their comfort, forgetful
of his own. I also related how that his many virtues had
won for him the friendship of the equally youthful Prophet
Jesus, who loved to make his abode his often abiding
place; and lofty must the virtues and excellencies of a
man be, dear father, to command the holy friendship of
this man of God. Nearly of the same age, they walked
and discoursed together in sweet companionship, like
Jonathan and David in the golden age of our country's
glory.

At length, an hour after leaving the gate of the city,
we drew near to Bethany, and beheld the roof of the
house of Lazarus. Upon it, watching towards Jerusalem
for us, we discovered the graceful form of Mary, who no
sooner saw us, than she waved her hands in earnest longing.
In a few moments we were in her arms, mingling
our tears together.

“Does he yet live?” I asked, scarcely daring to ask, as
she led us into the house.

“Yes, lives, but fails hourly,” answered Mary, with
forced composure. “God bless you both for hastening to
me.”

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At this moment Martha's pale and suffering face, beautiful
even in its pallor, appeared in the door of the inner
room. Upon seeing us she advanced, and taking both our
hands in hers, she said in a touching whisper, “You have
come, sweet friends, to see my brother die!”

She then led us into the room, where lay upon a couch
the form of the invalid, whose perilous condition had
brought a pang to the hearts of so many dear and loving
ones around him. Upon entering the apartment, he turned
his lustrous eyes upon us, and seemed to recognize us,
as he smiled faintly a grateful recognition. Noble and
beautiful as his countenance was in health, I thought
that its expression, with his brilliant eyes and feverish
cheek, was now superhuman.

“He has slept a little,” said Martha, softly, to me;
“but his fever is consuming him. He has closed his eyes
again, and seems heavy; but his slumbers are restless,
as you see; and he seems to think his dear friend, Jesus
the Prophet, is by him; or he talks of Ruth as if she were
not present.”

“And who is Ruth, dear Martha?” I asked, as I was
about to follow her out of the room, leaving her brother to
his weary repose.

“Alas! it was for Ruth's gentle love's sake he now lies
there,” she answered; “there is the sweet maiden kneeling
on the other side of his couch, her tearful face buried
in the folds of the curtains of his couch. She leaves him
not a moment; nay, though he does not seem to be sensible
of her presence, yet when she has once or twice left
the room, he awakes directly and calls for her.”

I turned, and regarded with tender interest the graceful

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and half-concealed form of the young girl as she bent over
his pillow, her hand clasped by his. At this moment she
looked up, and directed her gaze towards me. Her face
was inexpressibly lovely, bathed as it was in its glittering
tear-dew, and her large, glorious eyes, seemed like heavens
of tenderness and love. Her hair would have been raven
black, save that a golden bronze enriched its waving
masses at every play of the light upon it. As our eyes
met, she seemed to receive me into her soul, and my heart
to embrace hers. Lazarus moved and murmured her
name, and she dropped her eyes, and bent like an angel
over him.

“Who is this marvellously lovely maiden?” I asked of
Martha, as we went out into the court of the hall.

“The betrothed bride of our beloved brother,” answered
she; “sit with me here in the shade, beneath this vine,
and I will tell thee their sad story. Lazarus, you know,
dearest Adina, is a writer in the Temple, and by his labors
has lived in humble competence, and surrounded us all with
many comforts, nay, luxuries; for all we have, our
mother and we owe to his filial and fraternal love. His
attachment to us led him to forego the pleasure of all other
society; for he said he found in our sweet bond of sisterly
love, all that he required to render him happy. He
was therefore insensible to all the attractions of the maidens
who are our acquaintances and friends; and when,
a few months since, our mother was gathered to her
fathers, he said he felt more than ever his duty to devote
his life to our happiness. We would fain have induced
him to seek a companion for life, knowing his noble nature,
and how he possessed in an eminent degree those amiable

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qualities which would render, as his wife, happy and
honored, any daughter of Israel. But when urged by us,
he would smile, and playfully say, that he had but a very
little heart, and that it would hold no more love than
mine and Mary's.

“A few weeks ago, as he was engaged late and alone
in the copying-room of the Temple, upon a roll which the
noble Emilius had ordered, and which he desired to have
completed on a certain day, and for which he was to give
him a large sum, he was startled by the sudden entrance
of a young girl in great terror, who seemed to be flying
from pursuit. Upon beholding him, she bounded towards
him, and casting herself at his feet, implored his protection.
Amazed and interested, he promptly promised it,
but had hardly spoken the words, before Annas entered,
and advanced towards her. His face was flushed with
rage, and his voice was loud and fierce, as he demanded
her at the hand of my brother.

“`Nay, my lord Annas,' answered Lazarus, boldly;
`were a dove to seek shelter from a hawk in my bosom, I
would protect it, much more a distressed maiden of the
daughters of Abraham!' and he placed himself before the
fugitive.

“`Darest thou protect from me? She is my child, a
wicked and disobedient daughter of Belial! Resign her
to me, young scrivener, or I will have thee sent to the
lowest dungeon of the castle of David.'

“`Oh, save me! save me!' cried the young girl, as
Annas advanced to seize her. `I am not his child! I am
the orphan of Rabbi Levi, who left me and my estate to
this false priest as a sacred charge; and having done, I

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know not what, with my inheritance, he would sell me
in unholy marriage to a Greek captain in the Roman Legion,
who offers him large bribes in gold for me. And
when but now he would have delivered me up to him, I
fled to the altars of my God for the protection which man
denied me; and, ignorant of the way, and lost in the
labyrinth of the Temple, I found myself here. Rather
than be given into the hands of this fierce and terrible
Grecian, whom I have seen only to dread, I will cast myself
down from the height of the Temple!'

“And to the surprise and horror of Lazarus, she bounded
from the lattice, and stood upon the edge of the rock,
which looks sheer three hundred feet down into the valley
beneath.

“`Thou seest, oh Annas, to what thy cupidity for
gold will drive this maiden. Has the land of Israel
sunk so low, that its chief priest will sell the daughters
of the land for gold to the lust of the Gentiles? Is
this the way thou givest protection to orphans? Leave
her; and until I find a protector for her, she shall be a
sacred guest with my sisters in their humble abode!'

“`Thy life shall pay for this arrogance, young man,'
answered the priest. `I have power over both, and will
exercise it.'

“`Not to the danger and wrong of this maiden, my
lord Annas, whom Jehovah will protect, since she has
trustingly sought the sheltering wing of his altars,'
answered my brother, firmly. `If you continue to
persecute her, I will appeal to the Procurator, Pontius
Pilate, against thee. Thou already knowest, that Roman

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justice knows how to punish Jewish guilt with terrible
severity.'

“The result was,” continued Martha, “that the
wicked priest, alarmed by the threat of appeal to Pilate,
relinquished his present purpose, and left them, breathing
menaces against my brother. The same day Lazarus
conducted the maiden whom you already guess
to be Ruth, to our house; and she has since then been
our guest, and has won all our hearts, as well as our
dear brother's. Pilate, to whom Lazarus appealed,
has placed the shield of his protection between them
and Annas. It was to obtain money to be able soon
to wed Ruth that our brother has at length fallen a
victim to his arduous toils, and now lies on the brink
of the grave.”

“Is there no hope for him?” I asked, after listening to
her touching narrative.

“None! The physicians say that he will never rise
again.”

“There is one hope left,” I said, eagerly.

“What is that?” demanded Martha.

“Jesus!” I answered; “send to him, oh Martha,
and he will yet save him, and raise him up to life and
health.”

I had no sooner spoken, than Mary, who overheard me,
uttered a scream of joy.

“Yes, Jesus has the power to heal him, and Jesus loves
him! He will come and save him the moment he hears
of his danger.”

Immediately Mary wrote on a slip of parchment these
brief and touching words:

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“Lord, behold he whom thou lovest is sick! Hasten to
come to us that he may live; for nothing is impossible
with thee.”

This message was forthwith despatched by the hands
of a young friend to Bethabara, beyond Jordan, where we
learn Jesus at present abides. We have, therefore, no
hope for our dear relative, but in the power of the Prophet.
I will write as soon as we hear. Dear father,