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 BY FLORENCE M. KINGSLEY. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 BOUT seventeen years before this 
 story begins, there was great 
 mourning in one of the most 
 beautiful of the homes of Jerusa- 
 lem. In the court of the house- 
 hold the servants were congre- 
 gated about the great central 
 fountain, some weeping loudly, 
 some talking and gesticulating. 
 
 " We shall never see him 
 again," said an elderly woman, 
 
 wringing her hands. 
 " He was such a darling so sweet and so 
 
 kind!" sobbed an- 
 other, "and so 
 
 beautiful, with his 
 
 lovely eyes, and 
 
 those precious red 
 
 cheeks." 
 " Oh. my David. 
 
 my David!" wailed 
 
 a fourth, sitting 
 
 flat upon the 
 
 ground, with her 
 
 head upon tho 
 
 edge of the foun- 
 tain, and her tears 
 
 mingling with its 
 
 water s " who 
 
 could have the 
 
 heart to take thee 
 
 from thy mother!" 
 "His mother 
 
 " And Prisca gone too; dost think she stole the 
 little one?" 
 
 " Nay, woman! Prisca loved the lad as her 
 own life; she would never harm a hair of his 
 head." 
 
 " I know that she loved him, but I fancy that 
 she loved the dark-browed Greek better. Dost 
 think the Greek carried them both off?" 
 
 "How could he?" broke in another. "There 
 was no way, had he been so minded." 
 
 " Thou knowest not everything," said an old 
 woman, who had not spoken before. " I have it 
 from master's own body-servant, Malchus, that 
 the master caught the Greek talking to Prisca 
 in the gateway once, and bade him begone. 
 
 The man answered 
 something in an 
 unknown tonguo, 
 but with a bold 
 look withal; and 
 the master gave 
 command to have 
 him seized and 
 scourged, which 
 was done forth- 
 with. And a heavy 
 scourging it was 
 too, for he was a 
 Gentile. That was 
 ton days since, and 
 now Prisca and 
 the little David 
 have both disap- 
 peared." 
 Here all tho 
 
 Thou knowest not everything,'^ said an old woman. 
 
 will die!" said the woman who had spoken first. 
 I have it from Reba, her waiting-woman, that 
 she hath gone from one fainting fit into another 
 since she was told the child had been stolen." 
 
 women broke out afresh into loud wailing and 
 lamenting. 
 
 In the meanwhile a far more painful scene was 
 passing in the interior of the palace. The suia- 
 
 Copyright, 1S94, by Dnvid C. Cook Publishing Co.
 
 2 
 
 T1TI+-, A COMRADE OF THE CROSS. 
 
 shine was filtering through the branches of the 
 trees, making wavering spots of brightness on 
 the velvet sward. Roses, lilies and oleanders 
 glowed in rich masses around the basins of 
 marble fountains. Birds singing sweetly flitted 
 here and there. Yet everything seemed sad and 
 forsaken, while the mistress of all this beauty 
 and splendor lay, white and grief-exhausted, on 
 her couch in a shaded chamber. Near her, his 
 face buried in his hands, sat her husband. 
 
 " No, Anna," he groaned, " I can get no trace 
 of him. I have sent the servants in every direc- 
 tion; Malchus hath searched the city since early 
 dawn; I myself sought all aight. Yet will I find 
 him!" he continued fiercely, springing up and 
 pacing the chamber hurriedly. " It were too hor- 
 rible a thing to endure patiently. May the God 
 of Abraham witness that I will be avenged of 
 this wrong! And yet who can be my enemy? 
 "NY ho would dare to steal David, the only son of 
 Caiaphas? 'Tis some plot to make me pay 
 moneys for his redemption. Yet would I pay to 
 the whole of my fortune. Oh, my son, my son!" 
 And the unhappy father rent his garments, and 
 lifting up his voice wept bitterly. 
 
 " Nay, my husband, do not despair," spoke the 
 soft voice of Anna. " There is yet hope; he hath 
 only been gone since yester-eve." 
 
 Yet as she spoke, the vision of her three-year- 
 old darling rose before her, and she fancied him 
 wailing for his mother; perhaps sick and lonely 
 in some dark den of the city; perhaps dead. 
 And her courage failed her, and she too wept 
 bitterly, smothering her sobs, woman-like, lest 
 she add to her husband's anguish. 
 
 And so the hours, heavy with sorrow, rolled 
 themselves into days; and no tidings of the lost 
 child. The days became weeks; still no word of 
 hope. So passed away months; and the months, 
 leaden-footed, became in their turn years. The 
 wailing in the servants' quarters ceased; the 
 symbols of mourning were laid aside; and noth- 
 ing but the anguished look in the eyes of the 
 mother told of the hidden sorrow a sorrow 
 more bitter than death. 
 
 No more children came to fill the house with 
 play and laughter; and while the gentle Anna 
 became sad indeed, and silent, Caiaphas, the 
 master, grew by degrees gloomy, taciturn and 
 of a temper not to be trifled with. Over the 
 home once so gay and happy, lay a pall which 
 could never be lifted. 
 
 Once at a feast, Anna fancied that she caught 
 a glimpse of the missing Prisca. The woman 
 held by the hand a boy of about ten years, dark- 
 eyed, dark-haired, and with the color of a ripe 
 pomegranate in his lips and cheeks. But before 
 she could call a servant, the two had disap- 
 peared in the crowd, and could never be found, 
 though Jerusalem was searched from wall to 
 
 wall; and outside the walls also, among the pil- 
 grims encamped there. 
 
 " Perhaps after all it was not Prisca," said 
 Anna sadly to Caiaphas, as they sat in the gar- 
 den at twilight. " I did not see her face, by 
 reason of her veil. But the boy! Oh, my hus- 
 band, he was so beautiful!" And bursting into 
 tears, she hid her face on her husband's arm. 
 
 " Nay, my brave wife, weep not. Am I not 
 better to thee than many sons?" And so he 
 strove to comfort her sore heart. 
 
 And again the empty years rolled on. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 HE day was closing; 
 and night, doubly wel- 
 come in an almost trop- 
 ical climate, was close 
 at hand. Over the 
 waters of the lake 
 
 glowed a thousand tender colors, constantly 
 shifting and melting the one into the other- 
 gold, crimson, rose, and rare purples in the sky 
 above, and again in the glassy water beneath, 
 which reflected also the distant shores embow- 
 ered in trees; while here and there the early 
 lights in a white-walled villa, or distant village, 
 twinkled starlike through the dark masses of 
 foliage. 
 
 The surface of the water was alive with craft 
 of various kinds; some, standing out at a dis- 
 tance from the land with white and parti-colored 
 sails, seemed endeavoring to catch the light 
 
 He walked quickly away. 
 
 breeze, which as yet scarcely ruffled the surface 
 of the water; others, propelled by the oar,
 
 TITUS, A COMEADE OF THE CEOSS. 
 
 skimmed lightly about nearer the shore. One 
 standing on the land could catch melodious 
 snatches of song floating over the water, and 
 
 "Ho, lad! Thoii wert like to pass thy night 
 outside the walls." 
 " And that were no matter," shouted the boy 
 
 the calls of the fishermen as they prepared to set in return. " Many a night have I passed on the 
 
 forth for their night's work. In truth it was a lake, as thou knowest; and mayhap I know an- 
 
 fair spot, this lake of Gennesaret. And a fair other way to get in save through thy gate here." 
 
 city was Capernaum. Standing as it did near And he darted laughing away, as one of the men 
 
 the head of this miniature sea, it carried on a made a motion as though to seize him. 
 
 busy trade with its neighbors. Ample ware- 
 
 Dost know the ladV" said one of the men 
 
 houses, with wharves and clustered shipping, to his comrade, who had joined in the boy's 
 occupied the water front; while behind lay laugh with a low chuckle. 
 
 the town with its great 
 synagogue, built of white 
 and rose-tinted marble, 
 its public buildings, 
 squares and streets, 
 stretching up to the foot- 
 hills of a high range of 
 mountains, which swept 
 like an amphitheatre 
 about the whole lake. 
 
 On this particular even- 
 ing a solitary fisherman 
 was engaged in fastening 
 his craft to the bank of a 
 little creek, which emp- 
 tied into the lake about 
 half a mile from the city. 
 The scene was a familiar 
 one to him, and even the 
 flashing glories of the 
 sunset, now dying into a 
 dim twilight, scarcely 
 
 awakened more than an undefined sense 
 of happiness. He was thinking chiefly of 
 the fact that he was hungry. Stooping, he 
 hastily shook the rude fastening to see that it 
 was secure, then took from the bottom of the 
 boat his net, and a number of fine fish, which 
 he proceeded to string upon a twig plucked from 
 a convenient tree. 
 
 As he walked quickly away, carrying his net 
 over his shoulder, the fish swinging from his 
 hand, he seemed rather more than a boy a well- 
 grown lad of perhaps nineteen years, well 
 
 " Yes, I know him. His 
 name is Titus a bold fel- 
 low. He dwells near to the 
 fish market with his father 
 Dumachus. They call them- 
 selves fishers " Here the 
 man stopped and shrugged 
 his shoulders. 
 
 " What meanest thou?" 
 said the other idly. 
 
 The lad at the gate. 
 
 Bvit the gate-keeper was fastening the huge 
 locks with much puffing and straining, and 
 many a smothered groan and did not hear him; 
 
 built, strong and muscular. A skin browned by at least he did not answer; and his companion 
 exposure, black eyes under level black brows, presently forgot that he had asked the question, 
 jetty hair slightly curling, a nose curved like Meanwhile the lad was threading his way 
 the beak of an eagle, and well-cut lips, made up through the narrow streets, quite dark now by 
 a countenance of unusual strength and beauty, reason of the lofty walls on either side. Occa- 
 He was clothed in a single sleeveless garment sionally he would come out into a paved square 
 of coarse white linen reaching to the knee; this or open space, where numerous small booths,* 
 was bound about at the waist with a sort of lighted by flaming torches, proclaimed a market- 
 girdle of some scarlet stuff, and from the girdle place. At one of these booths he paused a 
 depended a primitive kind of a pouch or wallet, moment and looked at its wares which were dis- 
 Ten minutes of brisk walking brought the lad played in flat baskets; there were cakes made 
 
 to the outer wall of the city, where he found the 
 watchmen aboxit to close the gates for the night. 
 As he passed hurriedly through, one of the men 
 called out: 
 
 with honey, dried figs and dates, small cheeses 
 
 'Small sheds enclosed on three sides, but with the entire 
 front open to the street or market-place. In these all 
 kinds of goods are sold, as in the stores of our cities. 
 
 2061914
 
 TITUS, A COMEADE OF THE CEOSS. 
 
 of goafs-milk, and various sweetmeats, together 
 with nuts and fresh fruits of many kinds. After 
 deliberation, he selected some delicate lit- 
 tle cakes, which wrapped in fresh green leaves 
 by the obliging huckster he bestowed in his 
 wallet, paying for his purchase with a copper 
 coin taken from a corner of the same receptacle. 
 Then turning and making his way through 
 the crowd which nearly filled the square, he 
 plunged into a labyrinth of streets, leading ap- 
 parently into the meaner portion of the city, for 
 the open spaces became smaller and less fre- 
 quent, and the walls lower and more closely 
 crowded together. Finally pausing before what 
 dimly appeared as a doorway in the rough wall, 
 he entered, and carefully closed the door behind 
 him. 
 
 " Is that you, mother?" asked a feeble voice 
 from the gloom within. 
 
 " No, Stephen boy; it is I. Where is the 
 mother?" 
 
 " Nay, I know not," answered the voice queru- 
 lously. " She went to the fountain for water, a 
 long time ago, it seemeth to me, and I am 
 parched with thirst and so hungry! Canst thou 
 bring me out into the court, Titus?" 
 
 " Aye, lad, that can I, and give thee to drink 
 also." And laying his fish and nets upon the 
 ground, he crossed the court, now plainly re- 
 vealed by the moonlight which flooded the 
 heavens. 
 
 At one side of the little yard appeared a dark 
 opening from which was looped back a leathern 
 curtain. Stooping a little, Titus entered, and im- 
 mediately came out again bearing in his arms a 
 figure, which he tenderly depositeu on a pile of 
 nets. 
 
 " There, Stephen boy, see the moon, how bright 
 it is; and here is water, albeit not so fresh and 
 cool as the mother will fetch thee presently." 
 And suiting the action to the word, Titus poured 
 out, from a small skin bottle or gurglet, water 
 into a cup, which he handed to the lad on the 
 nets. 
 
 The latter seemed scarcely more than a child, 
 so small and shrunken was his figure; and as -.ie 
 moved painfully to take the water, it appeared 
 that he was cruelly deformed and misshapen. 
 But his face, as the bright moonlight fell upon 
 it, was, despite its pallor and emaciation, beauti- 
 ful, for the features were delicately shapen, 
 while the light golden hair, fine and curling, 
 made an aureole about the brow, from beneath 
 which shone wonderful dark eyes. 
 
 " Truly the water hath a foul taste, but it hath 
 wet my tongue and moistened my throat, ami 
 that is a blessing. lam glad that thou art come, 
 Titus, for now I can go upon the roof. This day 
 hnth been a heavy one, and my back hath hurt 
 uie cruelly." 
 
 While the sick boy was speaking in his weak, 
 fretful voice, Titus had been busily engaged in 
 building a small fire; and presently the fish hang- 
 ing from a stick began to splutter in the heat, 
 while an appetizing odor stole out upon the air. 
 
 " Cheer up, Stephen, my lad!" Titus was say- 
 ing, as he made his preparations for the simple 
 meal. " I have a fine treat for thee in my wallet 
 here." 
 
 Stephen's eyes brightened, as he lay quietly 
 watching the flickering flames. " Is it some- 
 thing that I can give to the baby?" he asked 
 presently. 
 
 " It will suit the baby rarely," said Titus, 
 laughing. " I had him in mind when I picked 
 out this particular dainty at the good Justin's 
 stall. But thou must not give it all to the baby; 
 thou must thyself eat." 
 
 " Yes, I will eat," replied Stephen contentedly. 
 " But, Titus, I love to see the little one when I 
 give him a cake. He is sweeter than the sweet- 
 est of Justin's dainties. Hark! I think I hear 
 him now!" And raising himself on one elbow, 
 the lad listened intently. 
 
 Titus likewise paused a moment in his culinary 
 operations, and the sound of a baby's gurgling 
 laughter, and sweet broken talk, floated down 
 from a neighboring housetop. 
 
 " Ah, the young rascal!" said Titus. " He 
 waxeth a bold fellow." 
 
 " Yes, truly," said Stephen eagerly. " Last 
 night he clambered over the parapet* between 
 our two roofs, and came running quite alone to 
 me. He loveth me," he added in a tone express- 
 ive of deep conviction. 
 
 " He loveth sweets, that is certain," answered 
 Titus, laughing. " But here is the mother at 
 last," he added, looking toward the doorway. 
 
 A tall figure, heavily draped, and bearing on 
 her head a water-pot, at this moment entered 
 the courtyard. 
 
 " Where hast thou been, mother?" demanded 
 Stephen. " Thou didst leave me at sunset, and 
 I had been dead of thirst by this time, but for 
 my Titus, who gave me a sorry draught indeed, 
 but better than none at all from the water- 
 skin." 
 
 The woman let down the water-pot hastily, 
 and poured a cup of water for the child, saying 
 in a soothing tone, as she did so: 
 
 " Nay, thou shouldst not chide thy mother, 
 child; 'tis unseemly. But the time at the fount- 
 ain did pass swiftly enough, by reason of the 
 marvelous things which 1 heard. There was a 
 great crowd there, and I had to wait my turn. 
 The good Jocunda, our neighbor, had the tale 
 from her husband; he heard it in the markt't- 
 
 *A low wall, about breast-hiph. built around the edges of 
 the flat housetops to keep people Iroiii falling off. 'J he 
 parapet was require^ by law,
 
 TITUS, A COMRADE OF THE CEOSS. 
 
 place. All Capernaum is ringing with the won- 
 der of ' 
 
 " Let us have supper first," interrupted Titus, 
 " for the child is faint with hunger, and I am 
 well nigh starving. We will have that marvel- 
 ous tale of thine later." 
 
 So saying, he took the fish from the fire, while 
 Prisca for such was the woman's name hast- 
 ened to bring the thin cakes of bread, which 
 served the treble use of dishes, napkins and food. 
 For tearing the tough, thin cake into large frag- 
 ments, she gave to each a liberal portion, while 
 Titus broke up and distributed the broiled fish 
 in the same way. Laying the fish on the piece 
 of bread, each of the humble party proceeded to 
 break bits alternately from the fish and the 
 bread, finishing by wiping their fingers upon 
 the bread, and tossing the fragments to the 
 family dog, which made short work of the clear- 
 ing up. 
 
 Titus ate heartily, with appetite sharpened by 
 youth and long abstinence, finishing his meal 
 with a draught of water from the jar which 
 stood close at hand. 
 
 " Now, Stephen, lad," he exclaimed, " I feel 
 like a new man. Would that thou couldst eat 
 more than a bird; but thou shalt have the cakes 
 now." 
 
 " Nay, Titus, carry me up first. I will have 
 my cakes on the roof." 
 
 " Wait, lad, till I take up thy bed; thou'lt sleep 
 better up there in the cool air." Saying which, 
 Titus disappeared again into the dark interior 
 of the house, emerging presently therefrom, 
 bearing on his shoulder a small roll. 
 
 " I will fetch thee when I have spread down 
 thy rug," he said, as he rapidly ascended a 
 rude ladder-like stairway, which led from the 
 courtyard up the outside of the house to the 
 roof. 
 
 Down again he came quickly, whistling gayly, 
 and lifting the helpless Stephen carefully from 
 the pile of nets, on which he still lay, bore him 
 steadily up the stairs on to the flat top of the 
 roof. Here in the shelter of the rude parapet 
 which surrounded the edge, he laid his burden 
 down on the little pallet. 
 
 The boy drew a long breath, as he gazed into 
 the glorious sky, now fully spread out above 
 him. The moon was sailing high in the heavens, 
 while here and there glowed dimly certain 
 bright stars, which even the brilliant light from 
 the full moon could not quench. A light breeze 
 from the lake blew gently over the city. Behind 
 loomed up the dark masses of the hills. 
 
 " Ah, my Titus!" sighed the boy, " I could not 
 live were it not for the nights. I loathe the 
 days, down there behind that hateful curtain, 
 with nothing to do, and often no one to talk to. 
 And when father is here " Here the boy 
 
 stopped and shuddered slightly. Then another 
 thought struck him. Raising himself on one 
 elbow, he called in a gentle voice, " Gogo, here's 
 Stephen! Gogo!" 
 
 Then was heard a little gurgle of delighted 
 laughter, and a woman's voice from the adjoin- 
 ing roof said, 
 
 " Here he is!" lifting, as she spoke, over the 
 low parapet which divided the two buildings, a 
 
 Here he is ! 
 
 small naked figure, which toddled unsteadily on 
 two tiny dimpled feet, to the spot where 
 Stephen was lying, watching his approach with 
 delighted smiles. 
 
 " See, Titus, how well he walketh! The dar- 
 ling! Come here to Stephen, Gogo; I have some 
 cakes for thee." 
 
 At this magic word, the baby broke into a 
 staggering run, which would have ended disas- 
 trously had not Titus, who was watching the 
 scene, caught him up and conveyed him with a 
 single stride to the would-be haven. There he 
 nestled down beside Stephen with cooing, unin- 
 telligible words, which seemed to afford the lad 
 the greatest satisfaction. 
 
 " The little beggar!" said Titus. " He is think- 
 ing of cakes " 
 
 Opening his wallet he produced the dainties in 
 question, somewhat damaged by the heat, it is 
 true, but received with tokens of a lively joy by 
 the two on the rug. 
 
 " Is thy mother with thee?" again spoke the 
 woman from the adjoining roof. 
 
 " Not yet, good neiglrbor," said Titus. " But 
 she will come soon, when she hath put things 
 to rights below." 
 
 Even as he spoke the tall figure of Prisca was 
 seen coming up the stairway. 
 
 " Good-evening to thee, neighbor," she said, 
 spying the figure of the other woman. " Come 
 over and hear the tale which I heard at the 
 fountain to-night." 
 
 " Meanest thou of the wonder-working 
 Stranger who hath come to our city? I too have
 
 TITUS, A COMEADF, OF THE CROSS. 
 
 heard of Him," replied the other, stepping over 
 the low boundary between the roofs. 
 
 Then the two, seating themselves with their 
 backs against the parapet, prepared for a com- 
 fortable gossip. 
 
 CHAPTER III. . 
 
 -HEN I went to the fountain to- 
 night at sunset to fetch water," 
 began Prisca, " many were 
 there before , me, and I was 
 forced to wait; so I sat me down 
 on one of the stone benches to 
 rest; for in truth the heat to-day 
 hath been burdensome. Then said one of the 
 women, ' And what sayest thou, good Prisca, to 
 these marvels?' 'What marvels?' I answered, 
 for I had heard nothing of note. ' Concerning 
 the Man from Judea,' she answered. ' Hast thou 
 not heard? Thou art a keeper at home and there- 
 fore to be praised; but know that a great worker 
 of miracles, the like of which hath never before 
 been heard of since the days of the gods on 
 Parnassus or, as the Jewish women say, since 
 the days of their Moses, who brought them out 
 of the land of Egypt.' " 
 
 "What is the nation of the man?" interrupted 
 the other woman. 
 
 " Said I not that He was a Jew?" answered 
 Prisca. 
 
 " Nay," replied the other. " But that He came 
 from Judea." 
 
 " Well, now that I bethink me," said Prisca, 
 " Jocunda said that He had always lived in Naz- 
 areth near by; but I had Judea in my mind, be- 
 cause He hath just come from there, and at 
 Jerusalem hath Avorked many wonders of late." 
 
 " What wonders worked He in Jerusalem, 
 mother?" asked Stephen, who had hitherto been 
 too much occupied with the fascinating Gogo to 
 pay much attention to the conversation of the 
 women. 
 
 " Great miracles of healing wrought He," re- 
 plied his mother. " They do say that He hath 
 opened the eyes of the blind, healed sick folk of 
 all manner of evil diseases, and even cured crip- 
 ples like to thee, my poor Stephen!" 
 
 Stephen clutched the baby, who lay half 
 asleep in his arms, close in his excitement; but 
 he only said: 
 
 " Go on, mother; tell it all." 
 
 " Now, mother, believest thou this idle talk? 
 Thou art forever hearing of wonders from the 
 gossips at the fountain," said Titus, who had ob- 
 served Stephen's suppressed excitement, and 
 guessed its cause. 
 
 " 'Tis not idle talk," said Prisca indignantly. 
 " Knowest thou the worshipful Asa, who lives 
 in the great house near to the lake?" 
 
 "Yes," said Titus briefly; "he serves Herod 
 Antipas."* 
 
 " Well," went On Prisca, " know, then, that 
 his only son lay grievously ill of the fever; all 
 the doctors had given him up to die, and his 
 mother and father were well nigh distracted 
 with grief. His father had heard these idle 
 tales, as thou callest them, and he believed 
 them; insomuch that he set forth himself to see 
 Jesus for so is the Nazarene called and meet- 
 ing Him at Cana, he besought Him for his son. 
 The Nazarene told him to depart in peace, that 
 his son would live. And, lo! as he returned, he 
 met servants coming to meet him, who told him 
 that the lad was recovering, and that he began 
 to mend at the very hour when the Healer 
 promised it to his father." 
 
 " 'Tis true," said the other woman. " For one 
 of the servants who went to meet the father, is 
 of kin to my husband; and we had the tale from 
 him." 
 
 " Well, then," said Titus stubbornly, " 'tis 
 likely that he would have recovered anyway. 
 Thou knowest that not all die who have fever. 
 I had it myself, and lived." 
 
 " Nay, lad," replied the woman, who was 
 called Adah. " But this young man could not 
 have lived; he had the black spots on his body, 
 which come only when death is certain. Our 
 kinsman helped care for him; he saw it with his 
 own eyes. And at an hour when all thought 
 him breathing his last, he suddenly opened his 
 eyes, and asked for water; and when he had 
 drunken deeply of it, he turned and slept slept 
 like my baby here and wakened wholly re- 
 stored. 'Tis a true miracle." 
 
 " It hath a wonderful sound," said Titus. 
 " What else hath He done?" 
 
 " There was a tale from Cana last year, which 
 my husband heard in the market-place, but I 
 know not whether it be true," said Adah 
 cautiously. " But 'tis reported that at a wed- 
 ding party there, of one of His own kinsfolk, the 
 wine^ran short; and when His mother spoke to 
 Him of it, He caused them to fill many great 
 water-pots with water, and at a word changed 
 the water into the best wine. The man who 
 told my husband said that he knew the people, 
 and that they gave him a gurglet of the wine. 
 As I say, I know not whether this tale be 
 true; but about the son of Asa, I do know." 
 
 " How worketh He the cures?" asked Stephen. 
 
 " Nay, I know not; 'tis magic," replied the 
 woman. " They say that He teacheth strange 
 things also. 'Tis whispered among the Jews 
 that He is one of their great prophets come to 
 life again." 
 
 *Son of Herod the Great. He reigned in Galilee and 
 Perea at the time of Christ's public ministry.
 
 TITUS, A COMRADE OF THE CROSS. 
 
 " Is He here now, in this city?" asked Stephen, 
 his voice trembling slightly. 
 
 " I know not," answered his mother. " But 
 the women at the fountain said that He was 
 coming." 
 
 " Do you suppose, mother," said the boy in a 
 low faltering voice, " that if He comes, He could 
 heal me?" 
 
 " Nay, lad, think not of it; 'twill only bring 
 thee fresh misery," broke in Titus harshly. " If 
 these tales be true, 'tis likely that He would heal 
 only the rich and great, like young Judah, Asa's 
 son; or at any rate, being a Jew, He would only 
 despise heathen Greeks, like us. All the Jews 
 hate us," he continued, grinding his teeth. " One 
 spat on me yesterday when I drew my net too 
 near to him in landing. I could have killed 
 him! Aye, and I will kill him, if he dares to do 
 it again." 
 
 " I hate the Jews too!" observed Adah. " But 
 'tis certain that this Jew doth not mind the rich 
 only, for of the cures at Jerusalem they say that 
 the greater part were of mere beggars; and thou 
 knowest many of the beggars of Jerusalem are 
 foreign-born." 
 
 " When He comes, if He doth come, my 
 Stephen, I will see Him for thee. There is noth- 
 ing I would not do, to see thee well and strong, 
 my son," exclaimed Prisca with a passionate sob. 
 
 " Hark!" exclaimed Titus. " I hear some 
 one coming!" 
 
 All were silent for a moment, and the sound of 
 harsh voices and loud laughter was heard in the 
 street below. Then the door of the little court- 
 yard was thrown wide open, and ten or a dozen 
 men entered the enclosure. 
 
 " 'Tis Dumachus!" said Titus briefly. 
 
 " I must go home," said Adah, rising hastily; 
 and catching up her sleeping babe from his snug 
 resting-place on Stephen's arm, she wrapped 
 him in a fold of her ample garment, and step- 
 ping over the parapet, was quickly lost to view. 
 
 " Ho, Prisca woman! Where art thou?" called 
 one of the men from the court. 
 
 " I am here, my husband," meekly answered 
 Prisca, beginning to descend the stairway as she 
 spoke. 
 
 " Come along then. Get us food and drink 
 quickly; we are famished and not disposed to 
 wait patiently," answered the man roughly. 
 
 " Keep thou quiet here," whispered Titus to 
 Stephen, who had shrunk into a frightened heap 
 on his bed at the first sound of the man's voice, 
 " and I will go and help the mother. Nay," as 
 the lad held a fold of his garment in a nervous 
 grasp" he shall not touch thee. They will eat 
 and drink, then sleep, or go away again for a 
 fresh carouse in the town. Let me go, lad." 
 
 Then he too, hurried down into the yard be- 
 low, leaving the trembling Stephen alone. 
 
 " So thou'rt here, boy?" said Dumachus, as he 
 spied Titus on the stair. " Hurry thy stupid 
 feet, and fetch us some wine!" 
 
 Titus obeyed, bringing a skin of wine and fill- 
 ing the cups which the men held out. 
 
 " 'Tis a vile draught!" roared one of the men, 
 spitting on the ground. 
 
 " Thou hast the flavor of the wine-skin we took 
 yesterday from that portly merchant in Sama- 
 ria, still lurking in thy gullet," said another, 
 chuckling. 
 
 " A pretty feiiow he was; and how lustily he 
 roared for help, when we overhauled his belong- 
 ings!" 
 
 " He'll make no more disturbance in those 
 parts, nor elsewhere, IU1 warrant!" growled an- 
 other. 
 
 " Aye, we quieted him, as we have many a 
 better one," said the man Dumachus, with a 
 great laugh. " Titus, lad, thou didst miss some 
 rare sport, when thou didst choose to stay at 
 home from this trip " 
 
 " Nay, I did not choose!" answered Titus hotly. 
 "I was on the lake fishing, at thy command; 
 when I came back, thou hadst gone, I knew not 
 where." 
 
 " 'Tis true, boy," answered Dumachus good- 
 humoredly. "We gave thee the slip; we had 
 business on hand that thou shalt know anon. 
 Thou'rt quite a lad, and shalt have thy fill of 
 booty before long." 
 
 " I care not for the booty," said Titus, his 
 great black eyes flashing fiercely, " but I love 
 the fighting, especially when we fight the Jews." 
 
 This speech was received with a great burst 
 of laughter from all the men. 
 
 " Thou hast a rare pupil in that boy," said one 
 of them, nudging Dumachus. 
 
 At this juncture, Prisca interrupted the con- 
 versation with the announcement that supper 
 was ready. Immediately all fell to eating 
 ravenously, and little was heard in the place 
 save the sound of mastication and a hoarse re- 
 quest for wine from one and another of the 
 brutal group. Presently the edge of their hunger 
 being blunted, the wine began to circulate 
 freely. 
 
 " Thou sayest that the Man is here?" said one, 
 between great gulps from the cup. 
 
 " He is here, and multitudes followed Him 
 into the city. To-morrow we shall have rare 
 doings in Capernaum." 
 
 " Rare doings, indeed!" put in another. " I 
 had it from Blastus himself, that at feast time, 
 when He was in Jerusalem, people ran out into 
 the streets to see Him pass, and followed after 
 Him, leaving their doors wide open. No end of 
 booty was secured. The people seemed stark 
 mad." 
 
 " Let them be mad," said Dumachus with a
 
 8 
 
 TITUS, A COMRADE OP THE CROSS. 
 
 chuckle. " The madder the better for us. In 
 truth. I saw a wonder there, myself. A beggar 
 who has lain for years near the corner of the 
 market half blind, lame, and covered with 
 loathly sores when he heard the Man was 
 coming his way, shrieked out, ' Jesus, thou son 
 of David! have mercy on me!' and the Man 
 touched him, and lo! the beggar sprang up and 
 walked." 
 
 " If He doeth such wonders here," quoth an- 
 other, " we shall see the city in an uproar." 
 
 " True, my Gestas," replied Dumachus. " May 
 Jove help Him! But what think you of the 
 Man? Some say He is Elias. though truth to 
 tell, I know Him not; others say one of the 
 prophets of the Jews. But no one knows of a 
 certainty. He hath followers enough to raise an 
 insiirrection already." 
 
 " Let it come, say I!" shouted another. " Wai- 
 will break up the rule of these Romans: dost re- 
 member how they caught and crucified some of 
 our best men last year? I hate the law!" 
 
 This sentiment caused a wild cheer, which 
 Dumachus sternly repressed. 
 
 " Fools!" he said. " If we be caught here, we 
 are like rats in a trap!" 
 
 It was now close upon midnight; and grad- 
 ually the talk died away, as one after another 
 fell off to sleep, announcing the fact with loud 
 snores. 
 
 About one o'clock, Prisca crept wearily up the 
 little stairway to the roof, where she found 
 Stephen wide awake, his eyes shining like stars. 
 
 " Oh, mother!" he whispered, " I heard what 
 they said about Him. He is here!" 
 
 " Yes, my Stephen, He is here, and thou shalt 
 see Him." Then bidding the child sleep, she lay 
 down near him, and composed herself also. 
 
 But long after Stephen's regular breathing 
 told the mother that her darling slept, she lay 
 open-eyed, thinking of the time when he was 
 strong and beautiful, and of the awful blow on 
 his delicate spine which had made him the 
 shapeless cripple that he was. And in her heart 
 she hated the brute called Dumachus. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 HE next morning 
 Stephen awoke to 
 fi n d himself in 
 the room behind 
 the hated leath- 
 ern curtain. He 
 slept heavily and 
 and as he rubbed 
 eyes sleepily, and 
 looked about him, in the semi-darkness, he be- 
 came aware that he was alone. 
 
 " Father and the men are gone, and I am 
 glad," he said to himself. " Titus is fishing at 
 least, I hope he is and mother is at the foun- 
 tain." 
 
 The room in which he lay, was very much like 
 those of the humbler sort in the East to-day. 
 It w r as, in fact, the house there being only the 
 one apartment. The walls of rough stone, plas- 
 tered with clay, were windowless, and over the 
 one door hung the aforementioned flap of 
 leather. This was torn in several places, and 
 admitted here and there two or three dazzling 
 sunbeams, which afforded Stephen some faint 
 satisfaction, for by means of them he could 
 guess a little at the time, which at best dragged 
 heavily enough. When the yellow shafts of light 
 rested on the wall opposite the door, lighting up 
 the shapeless smoke-blackened wine-skins which 
 hung there, then it was three hours before noon. 
 As the sun climbed higher in the heavens, the 
 sunbeams descended from the wall, and lay 
 upon the floor yellow pools of light, and cheer- 
 ful to behold, though they rested upon a 
 wretched floor of dried mud. When they disap- 
 peared towards noon, Stephen felt a daily sense 
 of loss, which nevertheless always gave way to 
 a lively satisfaction, when he reflected that 
 presently night would come. Night brought 
 Titus, and the long cool hours on the house-top, 
 and best of all an hour of play with Gogo. 
 
 He fell to thinking of Gogo now, as he lay idly 
 watching the motes which danced in the yellow 
 shaft of sunlight. How smooth and dimpled his 
 little hands were like rose leaves, Stephen 
 thought; how straight and strong and rounded 
 his little limbs. And then his beautiful eyes 
 golden-brown, with such long, curling lashes, 
 and the rings of golden hair, half covering 
 the tiny pink ears. And was not his voice 
 sweeter than any bird's, and his teeth like little 
 pearls! 
 
 " Nay," said Stephen aloud, as he finished 
 cataloguing these varied charms, " there is no 
 baby in the world like Gogo!" 
 
 At this point in his meditations some one 
 raised the leathern flap and entered the room. 
 It was Prisca. 
 
 " Hast thou fetched the water, mother?" said 
 Stephen, half raising himself. 
 
 " Nay, child, I have not been to the fountain 
 yet." And turning her back hastily, Prisca 
 made a suspicious sound as if she were choking 
 down a son. 
 
 " What ails thee, mother" 3 " queried Stephen, 
 too much accustomed to see his mother in tears, 
 to be especially alarmed. " Hath father been 
 beating thee again?" 
 
 " No, no, child! Father and all the rest went 
 away before daybreak, and Titus with them. 
 It is not that; but oh, how can I tell thee!" And
 
 TITUS, A COMEADE OF THE CBOSS. 
 
 9 
 
 here Prisca broke down completely and sobbed 
 aloud. 
 
 "What is it? Do tell me, mother!" said 
 Stephen, now thoroughly frightened. 
 
 " Well I suppose I must tell thee," said Prisca 
 reluctantly. " But I fain would spare thee, my 
 poor boy, thou hast so much to bear. Our neigh- 
 bor came early this morning to call me tha 
 baby" And here the woman wept again, cov- 
 ering her eyes with her hands, as if to shut out 
 v ome painful sight. 
 
 " The baby!" exclaimed Stephen in an agony 
 of impatience. " Oh. tell me. is he dead?" 
 
 " No, no! I only wish that he was, for then ho 
 were out of his pain. 
 This morning, Adah 
 told me, she wakened 
 suddenly s he was 
 sleeping on the roof 
 and the baby with her 
 by the sound of a 
 heavy fall in the court- 
 yard below; in a mo- 
 ment she saw that the 
 baby was gone, and 
 running to the edge of 
 the parapet, she saw" 
 and again Prisca cov- 
 ered her eyes with her 
 hands. " Yes," she 
 went on, in a broken 
 voice, " the little fel- 
 low had wakened up 
 early, as all babies do, 
 and had crawled to the 
 edge of the roof; in 
 
 one place the ledge is broken away and he had 
 fallen on to the stones below. He is frightfully 
 hurt. He cannot live the day out. Thank the 
 gods for that! But I must go back and stay 
 with her, though 'tis little I can do to help." 
 
 Stephen had heard this frightful tale in 
 silence. But now as his mother looked at him, 
 she saw that his face was white and drawn. 
 
 " I cannot bear it, mother!" he gasped huskily. 
 
 His mother was frightened by his look and 
 words. "Oh, Stephen!" she cried, " thou'lt 
 break my heart! Thou art my baby and all I 
 have! Thou must bear it, lad. "for my sake. I 
 will not go back; I will stay with thee." 
 
 "No, no'" wailed Stephen, "go back; thou 
 mightest do something to ease him. Go quickly!" 
 
 Prisca hastily placed some bread and dried 
 fruit, with a small gurglet of water, near the 
 lad, and went quickly away, saying, as she left 
 the room: 
 
 " I will come back soon, if there be a change." 
 
 For a few moments after she bad gone, 
 Stephen lay as If stunned. His baby! His Gogo 
 and bleeding! Cpiild he never ss 
 
 him again? Oh, those little hands! never again 
 would he feel them like rose-leaves on his 
 cheek! Those little feet never to walk again! 
 
 " I cannot bear it!" he cried, and again and 
 again, " I cannot bear it!" 
 
 Presently into his brain, half-crazed with suf- 
 fering, flashed the remembrance of the Nazar- 
 ene. " He is here not far away. He could heal 
 him. Oh, if mother would only come back! She 
 could tind Him. But she is not here! She will 
 not come! Perhaps he is dying even now! If 
 only I could walk! I can crawl a little. I will 
 try I must try I must do something to help! 
 Oh, my Gogo! My Gogo!" 
 
 Ruins of Tel-Hum, site of Capernaum. 
 
 The boy had taken a desperate resolution. It 
 was true that he could crawl a little; but of late 
 the exertion had caused such an aggravation 
 of his malady, that his mother had forbidden it. 
 
 Slowly he let himself down from the raised 
 platform which occupied one end of the room, 
 and on which the family slept to the earthen 
 floor beneath, every movement causing the most 
 exquisite anguish in his injured back; but he 
 persevered, and at length reached the door. 
 Then came the painful journey across the court- 
 yard. Suppose that he could not open the door 
 that led to the street! It was a terrible thought. 
 Great drops started out on the boy's fore- 
 head. 
 
 A few feet more and the door was reached. It 
 was unlatched. Prisca in her sorrowful haste, 
 had forgotten to close it after her. Stephen 
 pushed it boldly open, and in another moment 
 was in the street. Here he paused to reflect; at 
 the end of the street was a hiarket-place. 
 
 " I must go there ( " he thought. " I must find 
 Him before long, or It will be too late," 
 
 The street la which h lay wa e narrow, that
 
 10 
 
 TITUS, A COMEADE OF THE CEOSS. 
 
 one standing in the middle of it, could touch the 
 walls on either side. There were no windows. 
 No one was visible. Which way was the 
 market? He did not know. It must be toward 
 the lake. 
 
 " I will go this way," he said aloud, and nerv- 
 ing himself for the effort, he crept painfully 
 down the street. The stifling yellow dust almost 
 strangled him; the small, flinty stones cut his 
 limbs, and the sun beat down fiercely on his 
 uncovered head. 
 
 Presently he stopped. His heart beat thick 
 and painfully; black spots floated before his 
 eyes; but he could see that the market-place was 
 not far off. Already he could catch the hum of 
 voices or was it but the roaring in his ears? 
 Another effort an agonizing one this time ancl 
 the lad found himself at the corner of the street. 
 He had succeeded in reaching the market-place. 
 There were the booths with many things prin- 
 cipally fish spread out thereon, just as he re- 
 membered it when Titus had once carried him 
 to see it, a long time ago. There were many 
 people there, buying and selling, but no one who 
 looked like the wonderful Nazarene. No one 
 noticed the poor little figure, lying there in the 
 dust. One man, it is true, nearly stepped on 
 him, as he hurried along with a huge basket of 
 fish on his head; but he only muttered something 
 in an angry tone about beggar brats, and passed 
 on. 
 
 Stephen's misery increased with every pass- 
 ing moment. The pain in his back was well nigli 
 unbearable; he was burning up with thirst, and 
 faint with hunger. Still he strained his gaze 
 eagerly after every passer-by, with a hope which 
 ever grew dimmer. Presently, he saw with ter- 
 ror that two or three of the fierce, half -wild 
 dogs of the town* were sniffing about him. He 
 shrieked aloud, and covering his eyes with his 
 arm, screamed frantically: 
 
 " Mother! Mother!" 
 
 In the midst of his agony, he became aware 
 that some one was speaking to him. He looked 
 up, and saw, standing between him and the 
 blinding glare of the sun, a Man. To Stephen, 
 lying prone in the dust, He looked very tall. 
 This the boy saw; yet it was something else 
 which hushed his sobs, and caused him to look 
 upon this Man with breathless awe that face 
 of mysterious beauty; those wonderful eyes- 
 deep, tender, unfathomable. It could be no 
 other than Jesus! Gogo was saved! 
 
 With a cry of joy; Stephen raised himself, and 
 with hands clasped atid eyes still fastened on 
 the Stranger) half whispered: 
 
 " Thou art Jesus He that healeth! I know it! 
 Thou canst save my baby! He fell from the 
 roof and is crushed and dying." 
 
 A beautiful smile dawned in the Stranger's 
 eyes, and lifting His face towards heaven, He 
 said: 
 
 " I thank thee, O my Father, that thou hast 
 hid these things from the wise and prudent, 
 and hast revealed them unto babes." Then 
 looking again upon Stephen with a tender, com- 
 passionate gaze, which comprehended all his 
 weakness and deformity, He laid His hand 
 gently on the boy's head. 
 
 " According to thy faith, be it unto thee. Go 
 in peace." 
 
 And, lo! under that blessed touch the boy felt 
 all weariness, all pain, all weakness, pass away; 
 and w ; th a cry of exceeding great joy, he arose 
 from the grmmd perfectly healed. 
 
 " Blessed." iiidet-d, " ate the merciful; for they 
 
 shall obtain 
 mercy." 
 
 eine-Hshing. 
 
 Dogs of KaBtorrt cities were of a seml-wtlrtspcidos, more 
 wolf than dog, which prowled about the utreets half 
 starved, and somettm.es BO savage and hungry as to attack 
 oae not able to protect himself against them. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 HE short sum- 
 mer night was 
 almost past. 
 The moon had 
 set an hour 
 ago; the stars 
 were melting 
 away into dim- 
 ness; while in 
 the east a faint, 
 rosy glimmer 
 showed that 
 dawn was at 
 hand. Over the 
 surface of the 
 
 water a coo' wind was blowing, which caused 
 two fishing-boats well out from the land to roll 
 heavily. The occupants of one of these boats 
 were busily engaged in hauling in, and examin- 
 ing, their fishing nets; yard after yard of the 
 net came in dripping and glittering, with but 
 here and there a little fish caught in the meshes. 
 " We may as well stop for to-night," exclaimed 
 one of the men impatiently, throwing the last 
 fish o.verboard. 
 
 " I told thee," said his companion, " that with 
 the wind in this quarter we might as well bide 
 at home. Hail the other boat, Simon. It may 
 be that they have something.*' 
 
 The last yard of the net having been hauled In 
 by this time, Slmptt stood up in the bow of the 
 boat and called, making a trumpet of his two 
 hands. Presently came back a faint answer.
 
 TITUS, A COMRADE OF THE CEOSS. 
 
 11 
 
 " Hast caught anything?" shouted Simon, with 
 all the strength of his strong lungs. 
 
 " No," came back in reply. 
 
 " 'Tis as I said," observed the other, who was 
 named Andrew. " Let us hoist sail and make 
 for home. We can cast again in the bay near 
 the city; we sometimes get a good haul there, 
 when not a fin is to be seen anywhere else." 
 
 In less time than it takes to tell it, the anchor 
 was hauled aboard, and the great wing-like sail 
 raised. As it caught the fresh breeze, and the 
 somewhat clumsy craft began to move smoothly 
 through the water, the two sat down in the 
 stern, Simon grasping the tiller. 
 
 " Canst see what the others are doing, 
 Andrew?" he inquired. 
 
 " They are raising their sail," he answered. 
 
 " They have had enough also," said Simon, in 
 a somewhat absent tone. Then he continued: 
 " Dost know what has been in my mind as we 
 toiled in the night?" 
 
 " How could I?" replied Andrew. " Thou hast 
 hardly spoken, and that were a marvel for thee, 
 who art somewhat free of speech." 
 
 " I have been thinking of the Nazarene all the 
 night through," said Simon. " I care not for the 
 fishing now, whether our catch be good or bad; 
 I would fain be with Him. Hast thou thought 
 of the marvel of it all? Perchance we have 
 lighted on strange times; perhaps it were 
 best that we give up the fishing for good and 
 all." 
 
 " Give up the fishing!" quoth Andrew in sur- 
 prise. " How can we do that?" 
 
 " Why," replied the other, " we have enough 
 and to spare; the vineyard beareth well now, 
 and the women are frugal. We do. not need the 
 money. If we give up the fishing, we could be 
 with Him all the while." 
 
 " But, brother," said Andrew, " doth He want 
 us?" 
 
 " Nay, I know not. But I think that He need- 
 eth some one. Knowest thou not that there be 
 whispers against Him of late? He is not of the 
 Pharisees* nor yet of the Scribes.** And in 
 truth, He doth strangely set aside many of their 
 laws and customs." 
 
 " I know," said Andrew solemnly, " what John 
 said of Him. He said it twice in my hearing 
 before the baptism in the Jordan, and again 
 afterward; 'twas this: 'Behold the Lamb of 
 God.' John believeth Him to be the Christ. 
 Perhaps thou art right, Simon, about the fish- 
 
 *A famous sect or religious body of the Jews; very strict 
 in observances of rites and ceremonies of the Law. They 
 took great pride ID making a show of their religion, while 
 of tea leading very sinful lives in private. 
 
 **A name first riven to thoie whose business It wan to 
 write, Uned In the New Testament, it means one skilled 
 In Jewish Law! an interpreter of tha Law; a lawyer, The 
 BcrtDe had great influence with the people. 
 
 ing. If what John Baptist saith be true, and 
 He is indeed the Christ, we ought to be with 
 Him where He is. And now John lieth in 
 prison, and we cannot tell what may befall him 
 there. May Jehovah grant that Herod cast not 
 his evil eye upon the Master." 
 
 " Amen!" said Simon fervently. 
 
 After this a little silence fell between the two, 
 broken only by the sound of the green water as 
 it swirled away behind the rudder in a long 
 frothy wake. The dawn was brightening mo- 
 mently now, and all the solemn pomp of sun- 
 rise beginning behind the great blue hills on 
 the eastern horizon. Before them, seen dimly 
 
 The Sea of Galilee. 
 
 through the morning mists, rose the towers and 
 walls of fair Capernaum. 
 
 As the boats drew near the shore, it could be 
 seen that many people were congregated there, 
 some sitting on the rocks, others walking about 
 not an unusual sight, for it was the wont of 
 all to rise early so that business might be well 
 over before the heat of the day began. Still 
 there seemed to be something more than the in- 
 coming fishing boats to attract so many. 
 
 " Seest thou yonder crowd? What dost thou 
 make of it?" asked Andrew. 
 
 Simon was silent for a moment, then he an- 
 swered eagerly, " 'Tis He, the Master; and the 
 people throng Him to hear Him speak. Let us 
 make haste!" And being now quite close to the 
 shore, he sprang into the water, and pulling the 
 boat after him, quickly made it fast, Andrew 
 following him more slowly. 
 
 Meanwhile the other boat, not far behind, and 
 also light because of its emptiness, had been 
 drawn upj and the men in it, dragging their nets 
 behind them, came also to the shore. 
 
 When Jesus saw Simon, and Andrew, and the 
 other's, and their boats empty, after all the 
 night's toll, He entered Into one of the ships, 
 which was Simon's, and prayed him that he
 
 12 
 
 TITUS, A COMRADE OF THE CROSS. 
 
 would thrust out a little from the land. Then 
 He sat down and taught the people out of the 
 ship. 
 
 We may not know what He said that summer 
 morning, so long ago; but we know that II j 
 spoke of the things of God. And as He sat 
 there in the shadow of the great sail, His voice 
 sounding clear and sweet, across the little space 
 of water which separated kjti from His henr- 
 ers, healing fell on many a bleeding heart; chil- 
 dren stretched out their tiny hands towards 
 Him; and love, stronger than death itself, sprang 
 up beautiful and mighty, in many a soul. 
 
 Among those who stood on the very water's 
 edge, were two women, one bearing in her arms 
 a rosy babe; with them was a lad of about four- 
 teen, with light golden hair, and great dark 
 eyes. When Jesus had ended His speaking, this 
 lad clasped His hands, and looking at Him v.-lth 
 a face like that of an angel, murmured: 
 
 " Thou that healest, I love thee! I love thee!" 
 
 It was Stephen. 
 
 Now when the Master had done speaking to 
 the people, He turned to Simon, who, with 
 Andrew, was with Him in the boat, and said: 
 " Launch out now into the deep, and let down 
 your nets for a draught." 
 
 " And Simon answering said unto Him, Mas- 
 ter, we have toiled all the night, and have taken 
 nothing; nevertheless at thy word I will let 
 down the net. And when they had this done, 
 they enclosed a great multitude of fishes, so that 
 their net brake. And they beckoned to their 
 partners which were in the other ship, that they 
 should come and help them. And they came, 
 and filled both the ships, so that they began to 
 sink. When Simon Peter saw it. he fell down 
 at Jesus' knees, saying, Depart from me! for I 
 am a sinful man, O Lord! For he was aston- 
 ished, and all they that were with him, at the 
 draught of the fishes which they had taken. 
 And Jesus said unto Simon, Fear not; from 
 henceforth thou shalt catch men. And when 
 they had brought their ships to land, they for- 
 sook all and followed Him." 
 
 Night acrain; and with it peace. Far below 
 the solitary Watcher on the heights, lay the city, 
 twinkling with Sabbath lights. At sunset, the 
 mellow notes of the trumpet, from the roof of 
 the synagogue, had announced the day of rest. 
 Toil was over for a brief space; the peasants 
 had ceased their labor in the fields; the shops 
 and booths were closed; the fishing-boats lay 
 idle at the wharves. 
 
 Hours passed on. The city slept. Still the 
 solitary figure paced back and forth tirelessly, 
 lifting His face to the heavens. Below Him the 
 world, full of sin, full of misery, full of ignor- 
 e. Abore bim, God. B tb link between. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Jewish Synagogue. 
 
 HE reader 
 had finished 
 droning out 
 the eighteen 
 p r a y e rs. * 
 The men on 
 their side of 
 the syna- 
 gogue had listened with reverent attention, ati'.l 
 responded wth devout amens. On the other 
 side of the lattice,** however, where the women 
 and children sat, there was a subdued 
 rustling. The place was very full; some were 
 standing, and others crouched along the wall. 
 To many who were present the prayers and 
 psalms had a strange sound; they had never 
 been in the synagogue before, though they had 
 often seen it. and admired the beautiful rose- 
 colored and white marble of which it was built. 
 But all who could crowd into the place had come 
 to-day; for it had been noised abroad that the 
 great Worker of miracles would be there, and 
 curiosity to see Him, and the hope that He 
 might perform some new wonder, had brought 
 many unaccustomed worshipers. 
 
 The Jewish women glanced askance at the 
 foreign women, who. with their little ones cling- 
 ing to their skirts, had crowded into the best 
 places for seeing. 
 
 " The ungodly ones!" whispered one to her 
 neighbor. " Why are they here? If this Man 
 be indeed the Messiah, He is not for them." 
 
 And now all the prayers had been recited, the 
 lessons from both the Law and the Prophets 
 read, and in the breathless hush of expectancy 
 which followed, the great Healer came forward 
 the reader, following the custom, having asked 
 Him to speak to the people. Fvery eye was fast- 
 ened upon Him, and as He spoke words of au 
 thority, of divine and burning truth, the light of 
 heaven which shone upon His face penetrated 
 the dark hearts in His presence. All were in- 
 tent, silent, drinking in His words, so different 
 from the vague and stupid utterances of the 
 Rabbis. Even the children, though they under- 
 stood not the words, felt the wonderful fascina- 
 
 *The service of the synagogue opened with eighteen 
 prayers or blessings, the people rising from their seats and 
 standing during the reading. 
 
 **!D the synapoguo the man n4 wops"* at apart, nd 
 *r ej>arte4 p
 
 TITUS, A COMRADE OF THE CROSS. 
 
 13 
 
 tion of that heart of love, and gazed quietly into 
 His wonderful eyes. Suddenly the sacred hush 
 was broken; a man leaped up from the ground 
 and shrieked: 
 
 " Let us alone! What have we to do with 
 thee, thou Jesus of Nazareth? Art thou come to 
 destroy us? I know thee who thou art, the 
 Holy One of God!" 
 
 Instantly all was confusion; women shrieked, 
 children cried, and men sprang up, exclaiming: 
 
 " He hath an evil spirit, and polluteth the 
 sanctuary. Put him out! Put him out!" 
 
 But Jesus silenced the tumult with a word. 
 Then, turning to the demoniac, who was already 
 in the grasp of two or three indignant worship- 
 ers, He said: 
 
 " Hold thy peace, and come out of him!" 
 
 With a great cry and convulsion, the man fell 
 down wallowing upon the floor; but presently, 
 to the great amazement of all, he rose up, calm 
 and in his right mind. 
 
 Then all the people, being dismissed, went 
 forth talking of" the wonderful thing which they 
 had seen; for the man was known to many of 
 them. 
 
 " Mother," said Stephen, that same evening, 
 " the trumpet hath sounded and 'tis past sunset; 
 shall we not go forth? I would fain see more 
 of this Jesus." 
 
 " I will go with thee gladly, my Stephen," re- 
 plied his mother. " For truly never man spake 
 as this Man. Yet I feel the wonder of it all so 
 keenly, that I think perhaps I am only dream- 
 ing. Can it be that thou art really well and 
 strong?" 
 
 "It is really true, mother," said Stephen, with 
 a happy laugh. " See how I can leap! And my 
 back hath never an ache in it now; and see my 
 flesh, how firm it is! Oh, mother, what can we 
 do for Him to show how glad, how thankful we 
 are? When He said to me, as I lay in the dust 
 that dreadful day, ' Go in peace,' and I sprang 
 up for the first time since I can remember, oh 
 mother, I only clung to Him and sobbed 1 could 
 not speak for joy and wonder. Then He went 
 away before I could rightly tell what had hap- 
 pened; and all the men were staring at me, and 
 questioning, and others running to see. And 
 then oh, then, mother I ran back down the 
 street, and in a moment, it seemed, I found my- 
 self with you and Adah." 
 
 " Yes," went on his mother, " we thought the 
 little fellow dying, he lay so still, when sud- 
 denly the door of the courtyard flew open, and 
 thou didst fly, rather than run, to the spot where 
 the baby lay. My Stephen, I did hot know thee! 
 I thought it was some spirit, till thou didst ery 
 out, ' Gogo is naved! and I am well!' " 
 bo w well!" put iq 9tepb0* 
 
 " Yes, perfectly well," said Prisca. " Not a 
 bruise on him. 'Twas wonderful!" 
 
 " Mother!" exclaimed the boy after a little 
 pause, " let us go forth and find some sick 
 ones among our neighbors, and tell them. Thou 
 knowest that He said, ' I am sent to heal the 
 broken-hearted; to preach deliverance to the 
 captives, and recovering of sight to the blind; 
 to set at liberty them that are bruised.' Those 
 were His very words. I cannot forget them. 
 And, mother, if He came for that, would it not 
 please Him best if we should help Him to do it?" 
 
 " Thou art right, my son; I feel that thou art. 
 We will go." And hastily wrapping herself in 
 her mantle, and securing the door of thefr little 
 home, she set forth with the lad. 
 
 " We must stop here," said Stephen, pausing 
 before a door. 
 
 " Yes," said Prisca, " a blind man dwelleth 
 here." 
 
 They knocked, and a voice from within an- 
 swered: " Enter." Pushing open the door, they 
 found themselves in a courtyard more wretched 
 than their own, for it was untidily littered with 
 straw and filth; several goats and sheep wan- 
 dered freely about; while a dozen or so of fowls 
 perched aloft. 
 
 Sitting against the wall, with his head bowed 
 forward on his knees, and his wretched gar- 
 ments wrapped tightly about him, was a man. 
 
 " Greetings to thee!" said the clear voice of 
 the child. 
 
 At the sound, the man raised his shaggy head, 
 and turned his face toward the doorway. 
 
 " Who art thou?" he said in a husky voice. 
 
 " I am Stephen, son of Dumachus. I am come 
 with my mother that we may lead thee forth to 
 find the great Healer. He will cure thee of thy 
 blindness." 
 
 " Nay, thou mockest me," groaned the man. 
 " For knowest thou not that my eyes were 
 burned out with a red-hot iron:* they be shriv- 
 eled up in my head. No man could heal me." 
 
 " But thou knowest not the power which this 
 Man hath," said Stephen. Then he poured forth 
 eagerly the wonderful story of his own healing, 
 and that of the baby. 
 
 But the man only groaned and drew his rags 
 more closely about him. 
 
 "Come come quickly!" said the lad. 
 
 " Thou wert an innocent child, the babe also," 
 said the man hoarsely, " but I who am I, that 
 one should heal me! I am accursed of gods and 
 n?en. 'Twere best for me to die." 
 
 " Nay, good neighbor," cried Stephen impa- 
 tiently, understanding nothing of all this. 
 " Thou must come." And running quickly up 
 
 'Blinding was common punishment in Bible times. 
 8ooUne the tjrei wire v>.irai out by tbrunUnf red k 
 iron into
 
 14 
 
 TITUS, A COMEADE OF THE CROSS. 
 
 to the man, he seized his hand and gave him a 
 gentle pull. 
 
 Something in the touch of those soft childish 
 fingers, perhaps the first friendly touch he had 
 felt in years, broke do\vn the barriers in the 
 man's soul barriers raised by the disgrace, 
 shame and suffering of years and burying his 
 face in his hands, he sobbed aloud, Stephen still 
 standing by, his childish soul perplexed and 
 troubled at the sight of so much misery. 
 
 " Come!" he said presently, again touching the 
 man. And this time the poor wretch rose from 
 the ground, stretching forth his hands grop- 
 ingly. 
 
 " I will lead thee," said Stephen joyfully, 
 possessing himself of one of the outstretched 
 hands. And so the two set forth, Prisca follow- 
 ing. 
 
 " Dost thou know where to find Him?" asked 
 the man in a trembling voice, a strange hope be- 
 ginning to stir in his heart. 
 
 " Nay," said Stephen, " but we shall find 
 Him." Then with a sudden illumination of 
 eternal truth, he added simply: " If we want 
 Him truly and seek for Him, we cannot fail to 
 find Him." 
 
 Said Prisca, " I heard one of the women in 
 the synagogue say that He lodgeth^at the house 
 of Simon the fisherman. He dwelleth near the 
 lake; I know the place." 
 
 As they proceeded on their way thither, they 
 saw many others thronging the narrow streets. 
 Some carried beds on which lay poor sufferers 
 wasted with every woeful disease known to 
 man; others led the blind, or helped half-crippled 
 ones slowly and painfully along. And as the 
 multitude, ever growing, hurried on, the moans 
 of the sufferers on their beds, the shrieks of de- 
 moniacs, and the wailing of sick children, made 
 a mighty chorus of misery. 
 
 The house of Simon, as Prisca had said, was 
 by the lakeside. It was a modest but thor- 
 oughly comfortable dwelling of two stories. 
 Instead of the customary courtyard, a small gar- 
 den extended in gentle terraces to the water's 
 edge; two or three fine fig trees cast a pleasant 
 shade, while roses, oleanders, and lilies made 
 the spot a sweet and pleasant one. Here dwelt 
 Simon, who was called also Peter, his wife, 
 and the mother of his wife, together with 
 Andrew his brother. And here also dwelt Jesus 
 When He sojourned in Capernaum. 
 
 On this Sabbath evening the family, with their 
 beloved Guest, were sitting in the garden enjoy- 
 ing the cool air, and talking in low tones. That 
 day the Master had done great things for 1 them 
 also, 1'he mother had been taken violently 111 
 with fever, and whett Jesus wtts told of It after 
 His return from the synagogue, He had taken 
 ber by the band aud lifted her up, and immedl- 
 
 ately the fever had left her, so that she was 
 able to rise and minister to them. 
 
 As they sat therefore, James and John being 
 with them, enjoying the Sabbath peace, and 
 listening to Jesus as He talked, they became 
 aware of a confusion of sounds sounds of 
 hurrying feet, of loud crying and wailing, mixed 
 with shrieks and groans, and ever drawing 
 nearer. 
 
 " Hark!" said the wife of Peter, rising in her 
 alarm. "What meaneth those doleful sounds?" 
 
 " The multitude is seeking the Master," said 
 John. " They are bringing their sick with 
 them." And rising, he went to the door of the 
 garden and looked out. 
 
 There was near Peter's house a square or 
 market-place, and to this spot the people were 
 hastening. And now they began to lay then- 
 burdens down upon the ground, the first-comers 
 crowding as near as possible to the gateway of 
 the garden, calling out as they did so: " Where 
 is He that healeth? Let Him come forth to us!" 
 With many othe.r confused cries, such as, 
 " Jesus, thou son of David, have mercy!" " Mas- 
 ter, come forth, we pray thee!" And through it 
 all sounded the woeful noise of the wailing of 
 the sick ones, whose sufferings had been greatly 
 increased by the hurried journey through the 
 streets and by the confusion and excite- 
 ment. 
 
 But now into the midst of all this misery came 
 the benign figure of the great Physician, divine 
 love, sympathy, tenderness and healing flowing 
 from His compassionate eyes and His out- 
 stretched hands, even as the fragrance pours 
 forth from the cup of a lily. 
 
 And as He moved among the wretched beings, 
 and touched one here and there, laying His 
 hands on others with words of forgiveness and 
 peace, the moans and shrieks changed to cries 
 of rejoicing and relief. Already many were 
 going happily away, to make room for others 
 who were still coming from every quarter, 
 when Prisca and Stephen with their charge 
 reached the place. 
 
 " He is here," said Stephen joyfully, clasping 
 the hand of the blind man closer in his. " And 
 many, oh, many others are here to be healed; 
 and some are going away well," he continued. 
 
 And indeed the quick ear of the blind man 
 had already caught the exclamations of thanks- 
 giving, amid the general babel of sound, and, 
 breaking away from the hands that still held 
 him, he ran, With a quick and sure instinct, co 
 a little open space where Jesus had paused for 
 an instant and throwing himself on his knees. 
 Caught Him by the garment, ttnd cried out 
 loudly i 
 
 "Jesus, Master! I beseech thai to Uav 
 mercy on me{"
 
 TITUS, A COMRADE OF THE CEOSS. 
 
 15 
 
 And He answered him: " Believest thou tliat 
 I am able to do this?" 
 
 " I believe," murmured the man, turning his 
 sightless eyes up to the face above him. 
 
 Jesus, looking at him, beheld behind the blind 
 eyes the soul stained with guilt, weary with suf- 
 fering, and hungry for love; and, touching his 
 eyes, He said, " Go in peace." 
 
 And the blind man was blind no longer. He 
 saw; and his first vision was of that face full of 
 compassion and tenderness. Then was his soul 
 stirred with a mighty love for the Healer. And 
 he rose up and went away, as he was bidden, 
 carrying with him a memory destined to become 
 a perpetual fountain of blessing to himself and 
 others through time and eternity. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 HE morning sun, as it flick- 
 ered cheerfully through the 
 high latticed window of a 
 room in the house of Caia- 
 phas, revealed an apart- 
 ment of noble proportions 
 furnished after the fashion 
 of the times, with a divan 
 extending along the wall on 
 three sides; the fourth side 
 being open, showed between its light twisted 
 pillars of colored marble, glimpses of the terrace 
 outside. The floor, was covered with thick rugs 
 of Eastern manufacture, while tapestries of rich 
 hues draped the walls; here and there curious 
 low tables and chairs of Roman workmanship, 
 together with rare vases and a multitude of 
 costly trifles, completed an interior speaking of 
 both wealth and refinement. 
 
 The sole occupant of the room on this pleasant 
 morning was Anna, the wife of Caiaphas. The 
 years, laden with sorrow, had left their traces, 
 for her hair was streaked with white, and lines 
 here and there on her fair face spoke of suffer- 
 ing patiently borne; but beneath the dark brows 
 her eyes shone sweet and bright, while the 
 curves of her noble figure were still perfect and 
 graceful as in youth. 
 
 From where she sat at ease on the divan with 
 her embroidery, the noble Anna could look out 
 upon the terrace, where climbing roses and 
 other fragrant flowers wreathed the balustrades, 
 and cast pleasant silhouettes of dancing leavea 
 on the marble pavement beneath. The tinkling 
 of a fountain was borne pleasantly to the ear, 
 mingled with tbe twittering of birds. It waa 
 very quiet and peaceful, and the peace seemed 
 reflected In the face of tiie lady, as she worked 
 
 quietly and steadily, drawing the gold threads 
 through the rich fabric in her hands. 
 
 Presently there was a sound of footsteps on 
 the terrace, and Anna, raising her eyes from 
 her work, saw the tall figure of a man standing 
 at the entrance. 
 
 " Greetings to thee, my wife," he said. 
 
 At the sound of his voice the lady rose, and 
 casting aside her work, came forward to meet 
 him with a little cry of joy. 
 
 " 'Tis thou, my husband! And I expected thee 
 not until evening." 
 
 " We traveled by the light of the full moon, 
 and found it more pleasant than sunlight," said 
 the man. "Is all well with the household?" 
 he continued, " and with thee, my Anna?" 
 
 " All is well," she answered. " And how didst 
 thou find our kinsfolk in Capernaum?" 
 
 " They are in good health," replied Caiaphas; 
 then frowning darkly, he added, " But Jairus is 
 as strangely infatuated with the Man Jesus as 
 are others in Galilee; he declares that he be- 
 lieveth Him to be the Messiah. 'Tis rank blas- 
 phemy, and goeth against the Scriptures." 
 
 " But is it true about the miracles of healing of 
 which we have heard?" asked Anna, with true 
 feminine curiosity. 
 
 " There is no end to the marvels which fill the 
 mouth of every Galilean clodhopper," said 
 Caiaphas contemptuously. " I would that the 
 marvels were all of it, but the pestilential teach- 
 ings of the Man" Here he checked himself, 
 saying, " But these be not things to trouble thee 
 with. I shall take steps to put a stop to it. And 
 now I must rid myself of the stains of travel; 
 and wilt thou, my Anna, bid the servants pre- 
 pare me some refreshment, for I have not eaten 
 since before sunrise. But stay!" he added, fum- 
 bling in the ample folds of his garment. " I 
 have a letter for thee from the wife of Jairus." 
 And handing Anna a small sealed packet, he 
 hurriedly left the apartment 
 
 Anna regarded the letter in her hand with a 
 smile of pleased expectancy, but forebore to 
 open it until she had made due arrangements 
 with her niaids for the comfort of her husband; 
 for she was a notable housewife. Then travers- 
 ing the terrace, she descended the marble stair- 
 way which led into the garden, and seating her- 
 self upon a bench near the fountain, proceeded 
 to break the seal of the letter which she still 
 held in her hand. It was very unlike the letters 
 which come to us from our friends nowadays; 
 for it was written upon a fine parchment, then 
 tightly rolled* bound about with a silken thread, 
 and sealed with wax in several places; so that 
 the opening of it was a matter which occupied 
 several moments, The "met seal being broken, 
 the lady spread open the parchment and began 
 to read.
 
 16 
 
 TITUS, A COM BADE OF TEE CROSS. 
 
 Sara, the wife of Jarfiw, unto the noble lady Anna, my 
 sister, Moved of Jehovah, Greetings: 
 
 We have had much pleasure in the presence with 
 us of Caiaphas, thy most noble husband, and the High 
 Priest of the Holy Temple. And especially did we 
 rejoice in the knowledge that all is well with thee, and 
 with thy household, and with the household of Annas, 
 our father. In truth, though this be a fair city, and 
 though our home be very dear to me, I oftentimes 
 long for the things of my youth, and for the faces of 
 my kinsfolk and acquaintance which be at Jerusalem. 
 Of late, there hath been that which hath caused much 
 talk among us: To-wit, the presence in Capernaum 
 of the Nazarene, Jesus, who hath wrought great won- 
 ders of healing, and teacheth new and strange things. 
 My husband, Jarius, who is, as thou knowest, a just 
 man, and one holy and acceptable in the sight of our 
 God, believeth Him to be the Messiah foretold by trie 
 Scriptures; and I grieve that the matter was one 
 which caused a hot dispute between my husband and 
 the worshipful Caiaphas. As for myself, I have seen 
 with mine own eyes that which hath caused me to be 
 filled with wonder and amazement: for, behold, the 
 lame walk, the deaf hear, and all manner of diseases 
 have been healed by this Man. Moreover, He hath 
 cast out many devils from those possessed by them, 
 and the devils themselves have testified of Him that 
 He is the Holy One of God. 
 
 He is beautiful to look upon, my Anna, but of a 
 mysterious and wonderful presence, so that, while 
 one looks, there seemeth to go out from Him an influ- 
 ence which draweth all unto Him. Even our little 
 Ruth, who hath seen Him, and heard Him preach in 
 our synagogue, ceaseth not to talk of Him; and she 
 doth frequently beg me to go forth with her to seek 
 Him. This have 1 not done, for the crowds which 
 attend Him at all times are so great that it were not 
 seemly for me, a daughter of Annas, to mingle with 
 tht.'m. Notwithstanding, I have taken every oppor- 
 tunity to hear Him whenever it hath been possible, 
 and also to inform myself of His teachings. He teach- 
 eth often by stories and parables, and, in brief, that 
 all may return unto God the Father of all. He speaks 
 of Himself, sometimrs as the Son of God, and some- 
 times as the Son of man, and declareth that He huth 
 come from God to call sinners to repentance. It is 
 rumored that in Samaria, even, He hesitated n >t to 
 talk to a woman of their nation concerning this salva- 
 tion ; which thing would not be done by the Rabbis, 
 as thou knowest. for indeed the Samaritans be not of 
 the true faith. 
 
 Another strange thing about this Man is that He 
 hath selected for His followers certain men of the 
 lower classes, some of whom are fishermen by trade, 
 and dwell in Capernaum. In truth, my sister, I fear 
 that I cannot make thee clearly to understand why we 
 are inclined in our hearts to believe that this Man is, 
 indeed, the Messiah. But if He cometh up to Jerusa- 
 lem, be sure that thou makest an occasion of seeking 
 Him for thyself; then assuredly thou wilt understand. 
 
 The little Ruth sendeth greetings, so also doth 
 Jarius. my husband. We hope to see thee at no dis- 
 tant day, for the next Feast day is now not far away, 
 and we shall expect to come up* to Jerusalem at that 
 time. 
 
 And now, my beloved sister, thou seest how long a 
 letter I have written to thee with mine own hand. 
 Wilt thou, for me, greet Annas, our father; also our 
 brothers, together with their households? May the 
 God of Abraham keep thee and thine. And now, 
 Farewell. 
 
 As Anna finished reading this epistle, she be- 
 came aware that someone was waiting her 
 pleasur* to ipeak with b*r, and raisiuar ber eyes, 
 
 she saw Malchus, the favorite servant of her 
 husband. The man made a gesture expressive 
 of profound respect, and then spoke: 
 
 " My lord hath desired me to say unto thee, 
 most noble lady, that matters of importance will 
 detain him until the hour for the evening repast. 
 He will see thee at that time, if it be thy pleas- 
 ure." 
 
 The man after delivering his message was 
 about to withdraw, when Anna detained him 
 with a word. 
 
 " Stay!" she said. " Thou mayst tell thy mas- 
 ter that it is well, and that the repast will be 
 served in the garden of the inner house, at sun- 
 set. I will await him there." 
 
 Then as the man still lingered, she added 
 pleasantly for he was an old and trusted ser- 
 vant " Didst thou enjoy thy journey to Caper- 
 naum, Malchus?" 
 
 " I did, most noble lady," was the reply; then 
 rather hesitatingly he added, "I saw there a 
 man whom I knew formerly iu Jerusalem. He 
 had been sick with the palsy* for many year*, 
 and when last I saw him, had lain on his bod 
 unable to move for more than ten years. He was 
 walking about in the streets of Capernaum as 
 nimbly as I myself. I spoke with him. for I 
 thought at first that my eyes had played UK- 
 false, but it was the same man. His name 13 
 Eliphaz, and formerly, before he was stricken 
 with his ailment, he was a servant of the revered 
 Annas." 
 
 " And what caused this most notable cure, 
 good Malchus?" said Anna encouragingly. 
 
 "I asked him, most noble lady, and he said 
 that one Jesus of Nazareth, which is in Galilee, 
 saw him lying upon his mat at the city gate, 
 and bade him rise up and carry his bed to his 
 home; and that he was able to carry out thy 
 command. It was a most amazing thing! After- 
 ward, I myself saw the Man who worked the 
 miracle." 
 
 " Didst thou see Him perform any cure?" ques- 
 tioned Anna. 
 
 " Nay; He was telling a story to a crowd of 
 people. 'Twas a pretty tale and easy to bo 
 understood. The children who were there and 
 there were very many of them listened as 
 quietly as any of the grown folk. I should like 
 to have heard more, but I could not stop, for I 
 was taking a message from my master to one of 
 the Rabbis." 
 
 Anna longed to question the man further, 
 but restrained herself, and dismissed Lim 
 with a pleasant word of praise for his faithful- 
 ness. 
 
 Meanwhile Caiaphas, the High Priest, was 
 
 A nervous dissuse which deprlvM tl> 
 Setd parts of th power of motion.
 
 TITUS, A COM&ADE OF THE CROSS. 
 
 seriously occupied in his own part of the man- 
 sion. Soon after his arrival in Jerusalem, he had 
 sent messengers to men of authority in the Jew- 
 ish church, with imperative summons to wait 
 upon him at a certain hour in the palace. For 
 some time past, a servant had been ushering 
 these expected guests into an apartment which 
 was especially set apart for such purposes. It 
 was, like the other rooms in the palace, lofty and 
 well lighted, but furnished with the utmost sim- 
 plicity and severity. 
 
 When all were assembled, Malchus acquainted 
 his master with the fact, and he entered the 
 apartment with a mien at once dignified and 
 austere. All but one of the company rose in 
 greeting, and before that one, Caiaphas himself 
 paused, and, bowing his head, said: 
 
 " Most revered and noble Annas, I greet thee; 
 and I am especially glad that thou art present 
 with us to-day, for by thy wisdom thou canst 
 guide us in our deliberations." 
 
 The man who had sat to receive the salutation 
 of the High Priest, was of reverend aspect; his 
 beard flowing upon his breast was of silvery 
 whiteness, while beneath the snowy folds of his 
 turban shone singularly keen and brilliant eyes. 
 Yet despite its dignity, there was in the face of 
 this man that which to the close observer would 
 indicate cunning, obstinacy, and cruelty. 
 
 He responded courteously to the greeting of 
 Caiaphas, and as the latter seated himself said: 
 " My son, thou hast called us together to-day to 
 learn the result of thy mission to Galilee. 
 What is now thine opinion of the Man who is 
 called Jesus?" 
 
 " I found," said Caiaphas, " that the reports of 
 the excitement in Galilee had not been exag- 
 gerated, but rather that we had not heard to the 
 full how this Man hath stirred up the populace 
 He hath been teaching not only in the streets of 
 the city, and in the byways of the country round 
 about, but, after the manner of the Rabbis, He 
 enters into the synagogues and teaches there 
 According to the popular reports He hath per- 
 formed great works of healing. Of these I did 
 not satisfy myself; for I saw nothing, and of 
 that which I heard, I make no account. The 
 credulity of the common people is well known; 
 and more especially in Galilee, they are ignor- 
 ant and little qualified to judge of such mat- 
 ters." 
 
 " But," said a man called Nicodemus, " is it 
 not true that even in Jerusalem this Jesus 
 wrought some notable cures?" 
 
 " 'Tis said that He did, most noble friend," re- 
 plied Caiaphas. " But which of us can prove 
 it? If the cures had been performed upon re- 
 putable citizens, they might perhaps be worthy 
 of our note; but, as thou knowest, the ones pro- 
 fessing to be healed were beggars. And the 
 
 word of a beggar what is it! But after all, it 
 is not of this Jesus as a physician that we would 
 speak. He might heal all the beggars in the 
 country without harm; but His more serious pre- 
 tensions demand our consideration. I tell thee 
 frankly that the Man pretends to be the Mes- 
 siah, and as such is likely to have a great follow- 
 ing among the people." 
 
 " His pretensions are blasphemous," broke in 
 the sonorous voice of Annas. " I have studied 
 the Prophets from my youth up, and nowhere 
 do I find such an one as this foretold. The Mes- 
 siah is to be a mighty King, who will save the 
 chosen people of Jehovah from the hand of their 
 enemies; and He shall establish His throne in 
 Jerusalem and reign in power. It is moreover 
 prophesied, that the Prince shall be of the 
 lineage of David, and shall be born in Bethle- 
 hem of Judea. This Man is a Nazarene." 
 
 "If this Man were the Messiah," said another, 
 " He would assuredly seek to ally himself with 
 the priesthood of the Most High." 
 
 " He not only doth not so seek to ally him- 
 self," broke in Caiaphas with an angry frown, 
 " but He hath been heard to speak lightly of the 
 laws and customs of the Church, and even of 
 the Pharisees and Scribes. Moreover, He ob- 
 serveth not our laws, and doth eat with un- 
 washen hands,* and mingleth with publicans** 
 and sinners, even going into their houses to eat 
 and to drink. My counsel is. that we require cer- 
 tain wise and prudent ones of the Ilabbis to 
 watch this Man. and report to us of His doings; 
 for there is great danger to the priesthood, and 
 to the institutions of the God of our fathers, if 
 He be allowed to teach unchecked." 
 
 " Thou spcakest with wisdom, servant of the 
 Most High." said Annas. " It is our duty to 
 guard the faith of our fathers, and to preserve it 
 from contamination. If this Man be a blas- 
 phemer. He ought to die. It is our law. Yet 
 must we move with due caution and secrecy in 
 the matter, lest we incur the displeasure of the 
 people." 
 
 A murmur of applause followed this sentiment; 
 and then arose a discussion of ways and means, 
 which was partaken of by all present, with the 
 result that certain wise and crafty men, ap- 
 proved by the Council, were appointed to go into 
 Galilee for the purpose of watching the Man 
 Jesus, that they might find sufficient accusation 
 against Him to warrant putting Him to death. 
 
 *Unwashed hands does not refer to the ordinary wash- 
 ing for cleanliness, but to the breaking of some of the many 
 rules for washing which the Pharisees observed. Not to 
 keep these was thought to defile a person. 
 
 **Tax-gatherers. who collected the taxes imposed by the 
 Romans, to whom the Jews were subject. They were 
 hated by the Jews, not only because many of them were 
 unjust in taking more than was right, but because the 
 Jews did not wish to pay tribute, or taxes.
 
 18 
 
 TITUS, A COMRADE OF THE CROSS. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 IS a wonderful tale, my 
 Stephen, but I must 
 needs believe it, since 
 I have thee before 
 mine eyes, and I make sure that 
 I am not dreaming it all." 
 
 The speaker was Titus, and as he said the last 
 words, he gave himself a vigorous shake, as if 
 to prove to himself beyond a doubt that he was 
 in full possession of his waking senses. 
 
 The two lads were walking slowly along the 
 lake shore, stopping now and then, half me- 
 chanically, to throw a pebble into the translucent 
 water which rippled on the beach at their feet. 
 Stephen had been pouring forth the wonderful 
 tale of his meeting with Jesus, and of the heal- 
 ing of Gogo and himself. 
 
 " And to think," he went on, " that thou hast 
 not seen Him! Nay, but thou must see Him when 
 He returns to Capernaum. Oh, Titus, I love 
 Him so better than any one in the whole 
 world!" 
 
 " Better than thy mother, boy?" questioned 
 Titus, somewhat surprised. 
 
 " Yes, better than mother; and yet I love 
 mother more than ever before, and thee also, 
 my Titus. He loves everyone. If thou couldst 
 have seen His face, the night when so many sick 
 folk were carried to Him to be healed! I was 
 half afraid to look, and yet I longed to, for there 
 was a light upon it like to the light of the sun 
 and yet not like it; and when He spoke to the 
 blind man, and said to him, ' Go in peace,' I felt 
 in my soul that the man must needs see. No one 
 could remain blind before the glory of that face! 
 Thou knowest," continued Stephen, after a little 
 pause, "that we have had no religion; father 
 speaks of the gods, when he curses. Mother 
 told me once that she was of Jewish blood, yet 
 hath she never gone to the synagogue, save once 
 when she knew that the Healer would be there. 
 I would I knew something of the Father of 
 whom He speaks. One thing I know," he added 
 with energy, " I shall continued to follow Him 
 and listen to all that He saith, and perhaps I 
 shall find out soon." 
 
 " Hast thou had speech with the Man since He 
 healed thee?" asked Titus. 
 
 " Nay," answered Stephen, " He is always sur- 
 
 rounded with crowds, and so many would speak 
 with Him that I know not how He findeth time 
 to take food; but I have followed Him day by 
 day here in Capernaum, and when, a few days 
 since, He set forth to visit the villages round 
 about, I went as far as I could with Him. I knew 
 the mother would fear for me, if I failed to re- 
 turn by nightfall. Titus, I am sure that some- 
 thing is wrong with mother. She weeps often 
 and so bitterly that I am afraid -yet father hath 
 been away, and I am well." 
 
 " Hast thou asked her what aileth her?" quer- 
 ied Titus. 
 
 " Often and often," said Stephen, " but she 
 only answers: ' Thou canst not help me, my 
 son, and why should I tell thee?' Wilt thou ask 
 her, my Titus?" 
 ' " Perhaps," said Titus briefly. 
 
 " And now tell nie what thou hast been doing, 
 and where thou hast been; and let us sit here, 
 in the shade of this tree, for the sun waxeth too 
 warm for comfort." And Stephen threw him- 
 self down beneath a thrifty fig tree. 
 
 Titus followed his example, and pulling a 
 stalk of lilies, which grew near, he began pluck- 
 ing it to pieces, throwing the brilliant leaves in 
 showers upon the ground. 
 
 " Thou wouldst not do that, hadst thou heard 
 the Master speak of the lilies," said Stephen 
 quietly, stretching out his hand as if to save 
 the flowers. 
 
 " And what said He of the lilies?" asked Titus 
 moodily, continuing his work of destruction. 
 
 " He said that the Father made them, and that 
 if He cared for the lilies enough to make them 
 so fair, He would surely care for the creatures 
 which He also made. He said, too, that He 
 Himself came to teach us of the Father, who is 
 great and mighty, and who loves all of us." 
 
 " Humph!" said Titus gruffly, throwing away 
 the dismantled stalk with an impatient gesture. 
 
 ' What aileth thee, my Titus?" said Stephen 
 tenderly, taking one of the strong brown hands 
 in both his own. " Thou seemest not like thy- 
 self. But come, tell me of all that thou didst 
 while thou wert gone." 
 
 Twere not a fit tale for thee to hear," said 
 Titus, fixing a gloomy look on the white sails 
 glittering on the blue surface of the lake. 
 "What couldst thou expect of such ruffians? 
 Thou didst hear them talk the night we set 
 forth. I was compelled by brute force to do 
 things which I will not tell thee. Nay, may niy 
 tongue wither up in my mouth, if I do!" he 
 added fiercely. " I tell thee I hate Dumachus 
 and all of his crew! They be devils, and will 
 make me one too. When thou talkest in thy in- 
 nocent fashion of this great Healer, as thou call- 
 est Him, I cannot tell thee how I feel. He heal- 
 eth the lame, the sick and the helpless, while we
 
 TITUS, A COMRADE OF THE CROSS. 
 
 19 
 
 have been robbing, maiming yes, even killing!" 
 the last in a husky whisper, and the lad buried 
 his face in his hands, and wept convulsively. 
 
 Stephen sat in perfect silence, all the happy 
 light gone out of his face; but at length he 
 stretched out his hand, and laid it gently on 
 Titus' bowed head. 
 
 " Thou wouldst never do such things of thy- 
 self, my Titus. Thou hast ever been tender with 
 the mother and with me; in the dark days before 
 I was healed, I could never have borne it but 
 for thee; thou didst carry me in thy strong arms; 
 thou didst sing to me, and tell me tales which 
 eased me of my weariness and pain. Thou art 
 a good lad, and a true, Titus," he went on 
 stoutly, " and thou shalt not go with those bad 
 
 men again. 
 Stay with the 
 mother and 
 me, and all 
 shall be well 
 with thee." 
 
 Titus had 
 ceased his sob- 
 b i n g , and, 
 straighte n i n g 
 himself and 
 half turning 
 away his face 
 to hide the red- 
 ness of his 
 eyes, he said 
 brokenly : 
 "I am 
 good, 
 Stephen, 
 thou art 
 
 "1 have heard them droning out 
 their long prayers." 
 
 not 
 my 
 but 
 good 
 
 Qnough for us 
 both. Let us 
 walk further." 
 " Yes, let us," 
 said Stephen, springing up with alacrity. " It 
 may be that we shall meet Him of whom I have 
 told thee. A week since, He set forth to make 
 a circuit of the lake, for I asked one of the fish- 
 ermen who follow Him at all times." 
 
 " What fishermen dost thou mean?" asked 
 Titus, interested in the mention of his own 
 favorite craft. 
 
 " They be Simon, with his brother Andrew, 
 also James and John, sons of Zebedee. Dost 
 know them?" 
 
 " I know who they are; I have oftentimes seen 
 them on the lake fishing, and once, one of them 
 spoke kindly to me at the wharf." 
 
 " They do not fish now," said Stephen. " They 
 have given it up, that they may not leave the 
 Healer. I heard the people talk of it. A Rabbi 
 in the crowd said, ' Good people, this Man select- 
 eth strange disciples; dost see it?' But the people 
 
 paid no manner of attention to him they wore 
 too busy talking of all that they had seen and 
 heard." 
 
 " Then the Rabbis love him not?" said Titus 
 with a laugh. " They be jealous for their own 
 teaching the canting hypocrites! I have heard 
 them standing in the market-places, droning out 
 their long prayers. They must needs draw their 
 robes about them, for fear such an one as I 
 should pollute them with a touch. But what is 
 that crowd of people yonder about? See them 
 running from every direction! Let us make 
 haste and see!" 
 
 Saying which, Titus broke into a run, followed 
 by Stephen, now as fleet-footed as himself. 
 
 "What is it all about? I see nothing," said 
 Titus, to one who was craning his neck to look 
 up the road. 
 
 " Knowest thou not," answered the man, 
 "that Jesus of Nazareth passeth this way? 
 Even now He is coming. Dost thou not see?" 
 And he pointed to a cloud of dust on the high- 
 way, amidst which dimly appeared a confused 
 multitude of people. " Thou seest that great 
 numbers are with Him," continued their inform- 
 ant. " The people flock after Him from every 
 village. There hath never been the like of this 
 Man in these parts before; for He doeth won- 
 ders of healing, and besides that, He speaketh 
 not as the Rabbis, but with such power that 
 even the devils obey Him." 
 
 " I am one that He healed," said Stephen 
 simply, for he could not help telling his own 
 story to every one who would listen. 
 
 The man stared at him. " And of what did 
 He heal thee?" he asked. 
 
 " I was a cripple " began Stephen. But at 
 that moment they were interrupted by a loud 
 and mournful cry, but withal in so strange a 
 voice that all started to hear it. 
 
 "Unclean! Unclean!" wailed > the voice. 
 
 " Room for the leper!"* shouted half a dozen 
 voices; and there was an instant scattering 
 among those who were crowding the road in 
 their anxiety to see. 
 
 Stephen and Titus shrank back among the rest, 
 and saw the tall figure of the leper, as he limped 
 painfully toward the advancing multitude, still 
 crying at intervals in his hoarse, metallic voice: 
 
 "Unclean! Unclean!" 
 
 His face was partly concealed by the coarse 
 linen of his head-covering, which he had drawn 
 forward so as to hide as much as possible the 
 ghastly ravages of his, malady. But it was evi- 
 dent that he was suffering from an advanced 
 
 *A person affected with a loathsome disease called 
 leprosy, which was considered incurable. It was thought 
 to be dangerous to touch or even to come near one having 
 this malady. Lepers were obliged to live away by them- 
 selves, and whenever they approached other people to cry 
 out as a warning, "Uncleanl Unclean!"
 
 20 
 
 TITUS, A COMfiADE Of THE CROSS. 
 
 stage of that disease the most horrible and hopo- 
 less which has ever afflicted mankind. 
 
 By this time the confused crowd of men, 
 women and children, with Jesus walking in their 
 midst, had nearly reached the place where the 
 leper stood. As they approached, again sounded 
 forth the dismal cry: 
 
 " Unclean! Unclean!" 
 
 The advancing multitude shrank back, leaving 
 Jesus standing alone in the midst of the high- 
 way. When the leper saw Him, and that He 
 did not turn from him, as did the others, he rafi 
 forward, and falling upon his face in the dust, 
 cried out: 
 
 " Lord, if thou wilt, thou canst make me 
 clean." 
 
 And Jesus put forth His hand and touched 
 him, saying, " I will: be thou clean." 
 
 And immediately he rose up and it was seen 
 of all of them that his leprosy was departed, 
 and that his flesh was like that of other men. 
 
 In the awed hush that followed, Jesus talked 
 with him that had been a leper; but in so low a 
 tone that no other could hear. Afterward it 
 appeared from the man's account, that the 
 Healer was directing him to go quietly and show 
 h'mself to the priest, as Moses had commanded, 
 thus fulfilling the law of cleansing;* and also, 
 that He charged him strictly to tell no one else 
 < 1' the wonderful thing which had been done 
 unto him. 
 
 him. Stephen saw that his great dark eyes were 
 brimming over with tears. 
 
 " Unclean! Unclean! " wailed the voice. 
 
 But as the man departed, a great cry arose 
 from all the people, and they crowded about the 
 Healer more closely than before, so that 
 Stephen and Titus, who still stood at the edge 
 of the throng, were pushed to one side. 
 
 " Was not that a marvelous thing?" said 
 Stephen, when he could find his voice. 
 
 But Titus did not answer, and, looking up at 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 SAY, young man ! 
 thou lookest to 
 have a sturdy 
 back wilt thou 
 not help us with 
 our burden?" 
 
 The speaker 
 was one of 
 four men. who 
 were bearing 
 some appar- 
 ently heavy 
 load between 
 them, and the 
 person to 
 whom he ad- 
 dressed him- 
 self was Ti- 
 tus, who. wiili 
 Stephen, was 
 
 returning from a fishing expedition on the lake. 
 The two were well laden with the spoils of 
 their evening's work, and with the fishing nets, 
 yet at the sound of the voice 
 they stopped, and moving 
 toward the spot where the 
 four men stood, they per- 
 ceived that the burden which 
 they had been carrying was 
 one of the light beds, or sleep- 
 ing mats, and that upon it lay 
 the figure of a man appar- 
 ently helpless. 
 
 " Thou seest," went on the 
 f.rst speaker, " that we have 
 undertaken to carry this 
 young man to the house of 
 Simon the fisherman, for it is 
 there that Jesus of Nazareth 
 bideth, and we hope that He 
 may be able to heal him." 
 The man on the pallet groaned 
 audibly. " But one of our bear 
 ers is an old man and infirm, 
 and he hath not the strength to proceed further; 
 so that we are in a bad case, in that we can uo 
 
 *If one supposed to be a leper, and so declared after- 
 wards, recovered from what appeared to be leprosy, he 
 must present himself to the priest, go through several cere- 
 monies of purifying and cleansing, offer sacrifice, and ie 
 declared clean by them, before he could again mingle with, 
 his friends. (See Lev. 14:
 
 TITUS, A COMRADE OF THE CROSS. 
 
 21 
 
 neither forward nor back, unless, young man, 
 thou wilt help us." 
 
 " I will gladly help thee," said Titus. " Here, 
 Stephen, canst take my net and these fish?" 
 
 " I will carry them for thee," broke in the 
 quavering voice of the old man, who had by this 
 time somewhat recovered himself. " And a 
 father's blessing be upon thee, if thou dost help 
 my poor boy to find the Healer." 
 
 " O father," groaned the sufferer upon the bed, 
 " what is the need of it all? Hath not the priest 
 told me over and over again, that I suffer on ac- 
 count of my sins; and that I must needs bear it, 
 for it be laid upon me by the Almighty? Surely 
 it is unrighteous to attempt to escape the 
 judgments of the Most High, for thou knowest 
 that I am a sinner above all men." 
 
 "Ah, the Rabbis, the Rabbis!" grumbled the 
 old man. " I know that they have told thee 
 that; but I know thee that thou art a good lad, 
 as lads go. None of us be righteous altogether, 
 and I am thinking that were the Almighty so 
 minded, He could put us all on to our beds, and 
 justly; for we have all gone astray. There is 
 not one righteous no, not one. Is it not true, 
 lads?" 
 
 The men murmured assent, while Titus felt 
 the blood rise guiltily to his face. 
 
 "Come, come, now!" said one of the bearers 
 briskly, " 'tis time that we were getting along. 
 Now then, take hold! Steady!" And the four 
 with their burden set off at a rapid pace down 
 the street, the old man and Stephen following 
 with the nets. 
 
 " My poor boy! My poor boy!" murmured the 
 old man, as if to himself, shaking his head 
 sadly. 
 
 " Hath he been long in this way?" asked 
 Stephen, sympathetically. 
 
 " Since he was eight years of age," said the 
 father. " He was run over by a Roman chariot 
 poor lad! There was some heathen festival 
 or other in Tiberias where we lived then, and 
 the boy was minded to see it. His mother bade 
 him stay at home, but he scaped from her 
 notice, and the first we knew of it, the neighbors 
 brought him to us half dead. Ah, 'twere a pity, 
 a pity! He was a lusty lad ere he was hurt, 
 and never had broken our commands before that 
 day. Since then he hath lain constantly on his 
 bed; for someway, the hurt took all the life and 
 feeling from his limbs, so that he cannot move 
 them. After a wjiile we came to Capernaum, 
 and his mother hath not ceased to pray for his 
 recovery. May the Almighty grant it, as He did 
 the prayer of Hannah! But the Rabbis will have 
 it that he is suffering for sin; and in a way he is, 
 poor lad, for it is true that he disobeyed. But 
 we have all gone astray all gone astray. And 
 he hatl) beep so patient! Thou kpowest, boy. 
 
 that David hath it in one of the Psalms that 
 ' like as a father pitieth his children, so the Lord 
 pitieth them that fear Him.' And I know He 
 must pity my poor patient lad." 
 
 " What was it that thou didst say about a 
 father pitying his children?" said Stephen eag- 
 erly. " Wilt thou say it to me again?" 
 
 The old man repeated the verse; then said 
 somewhat severely, " Dost thou not know the 
 Scriptures, boy? At thy age I could repeat the 
 Psalms and much of the Law." 
 
 " Nay, but my father is a Greek, and I have 
 not been taught." 
 
 " Then thou art a heathen!" said the old man, 
 slightly drawing away from the boy as they 
 walked. " But thou art a good lad I know it 
 by thy face and I am not stiff-necked like the 
 Rabbis. It hath been reported that He whom 
 we seek doth teach and heal all who come to 
 Him, even publicans and sinners." 
 
 " 'Tis a true saying," said Stephen eagerly. 
 " I was a cripple and He healed me. He did 
 not ask me if I knew the Psalms, or the Law, 
 nor whether I went to the synagogue. I did not 
 even ask Him to heal me I was asking for an- 
 other. And dost think that the Father who 
 pitieth the children, is the Father He speaks of 
 so .often?" 
 
 " Assuredly," was the answer. " He is also the 
 God of Abraham, of Isaac, and of Jacob." 
 
 " And who are they?" asked Stephen inno- 
 cently. 
 
 " Oh, boy, thou art indeed a heathen!" groaned 
 the old man. " Thou must go to the synagogue 
 and hear the reading of the Scriptures." 
 
 " I will do that," said Stephen earnestly. 
 " Thou knowest that I could not till lately, for 
 I was helpless." 
 
 At this point in the conversation, they saw 
 that the bearers had again placed their burden 
 upon the ground and were straightening them- 
 selves to ease their aching backs. The old man 
 came forward and stood beside the bed, looking 
 fondly down upon the wasted features of its 
 occupant. 
 
 " Doth the shaking of thy bed as they walk 
 hurt thee, my poor boy?" 
 
 " Nay, father; the jolting hurteth me not as 
 doth my sinful soul. He cannot heal me, I am 
 so sinful, so wicked! 'Twere better to take mo 
 back and let me die in peace." 
 
 " Dost thou see me?" said Stephen in his clear, 
 boyish treble, kneeling beside the bed. " I am 
 a heathen thy father hath said so yet He 
 healed me. He healed Philip, the blind man 
 whose eyes had been burned out for what, I 
 know not but he was a sinner. He hath healed 
 multitudes, and none of them priests, or Rabbis, 
 or Pharisees. He will heal thee. Thou dost not 
 know Him. He pitieth His childrep like the
 
 22 
 
 TITUS, A COMEADE OF THE CROSS 
 
 Father in heaven, and He loveth them as never 
 a mother loved. Thou wilt see it, when thou 
 lookest into His face." 
 
 The young man fixed his great, mournful eyes 
 upon Stephen, and when he had finished speak- 
 ing, he said: 
 
 " Who art thou? Art thou an angel?" 
 
 And indeed, in the moonlight the lad seemed 
 not unlike one, as he kneeled by the bed, his 
 hands clasped in his earnestness. 
 
 "Nay, nay, lad! He is not an angel," spoke 
 the cracked voice of the old man. " He is only 
 a little heathen lad, as he saith truly, for he 
 knoweth not Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. But 
 for all that he is a good lad. Thou must cheer 
 up, for it is true that He hath healed greater 
 sinners than even thou, my poor child. Here, 
 take a swallow of this wine; it will strengthen 
 
 Housetop or roof and battlements. 
 
 thy heart." So saying, he produced a small 
 gurglet of wine from his girdle, and proceeded 
 to administer some of it to the invalid. 
 
 Then all set forth as before. They were not 
 far from Simon's house now, and as they ap- 
 proached, it became evident that a great crowd 
 was assembled there, for they met numerous 
 groups coming away, many of them complain- 
 ing loudly fchat they could neither hear nor see.- 
 
 The old man looked anxious. " I fear that we 
 cannot see Him, now that we have come so far. 
 My poor boy! My poor boy!" 
 
 " Do not let him hear thee," besought Stephen, 
 laying a warning hand on the old man's arm. 
 " Let us go on; we shall surely find Him." 
 
 Their progress was now necessarily slow, as 
 the crowd grew denser. Finally the four set 
 their burden down for a moment to rest, and 
 that they might consider the situation. 
 
 " What hast thou there?" said a passer-by; " a 
 sick man?" And he looked over their shoulders 
 at the bed. " I will tell thee something; 'twere 
 better to take him home again, and as quickly as 
 
 possible, for he will not be healed to-night. The 
 Master hath healed no one. He is in an upper 
 chamber in Simon's house, and is talking with 
 the Rabbis, priests and Pharisees, who have 
 come from all parts, even from Jerusalem, to 
 hear Him. Then, even if this were not so, the 
 house and every inch of the garden is packed 
 solid with people; thou couldst not step inside 
 the gate alone to say nothing of that bed!" 
 And without waiting to see whether or not his 
 advice was taken, the speaker went his way. 
 
 " Humph! 'Tis a sorry case!" muttered one of 
 the men who had been helping to bear the bed. 
 " I had not bargained to carry this burden both 
 ways." 
 
 " O Benjamin, my son! my son!" wailed the old 
 man, wringing his hands helplessly, " I fear we 
 must take thee home unhealed!" 
 
 "Stay!" said Stephen, again coming forward. 
 " I know that we can find Him if we try. Titus, 
 wilt thou not go and see if there be not some 
 way to get in?" 
 
 Titus was gone in a moment, and in a moment 
 more was back again, flushed and panting with 
 exertion. " There is a stairway leading to the 
 roof, not far from the garden gate," said he. 
 " I had thought that if we could take him up 
 there, we might perhaps tear up a piece of the 
 tiling, and lower him into the chamber where 
 the Master is talking. I can repair the breach 
 in an hour, if one of you will help me." 
 
 " Oh, Titus!" exclaimed Stephen, " 'tis a good 
 thought; let us go at once." 
 
 " Stay!" said the old man. " What right have 
 we to injure our neighbor's roof? Then too, 
 would it not be a bold and unseemly thing thus 
 to disturb the Master, more especially if He be 
 discoursing to so many learned men? God know- 
 eth that I desire that my son should be healed, 
 but I like not thy plan, young man; it srnacketh 
 of unlawfulness." 
 
 "Oh, father!" said the sick man, with a sob, 
 " if thou takest me back now, I feel that I can 
 never come again. This excitement hath so 
 wrought on me, that I feel the springs of life 
 failing within me. I pray thee try any way that 
 will take me to Him!" 
 
 The old man hesitated. 
 
 Stephen whispered in his ear, " Let us try it, I 
 beg of thee!" 
 
 "Well, well! Do thy best; I care not. I will 
 recompense Simon for the roof. It will do no 
 harm to make the attempt. ' 
 
 Lifting their burden, the four once again 
 slowly advanced through the crowd, Stephen 
 and the old man going in front this time, and 
 making a way for them. At length the gateway 
 was reached, then a struggle through the dense 
 throng that filled every available nook inside the 
 garden. Finally the stairway was gained, and
 
 TITUS, A COMRADE OF THE CEOSS. 
 
 23 
 
 in a moment more they were safely on the roof, 
 where, strangely enough, no one from be- 
 low had hitherto come. Now, however, divining 
 the purpose of the party with the sick man, 
 the crowd began to surge up the narrow stair- 
 way. 
 
 "What art thou purposing, good friends?" 
 called out one. 
 
 " To tear up the roof, and lower this sick man 
 into the presence of the Master," answered 
 Titus. 
 
 " Then this is the spot to remove the tiling. 
 He is in the chamber beneath. I will help thee," 
 said the man who had spoken first. 
 
 And in another moment a dozen willing hands 
 were at work. A very short time sufficed to 
 make a considerable aperture; and through it 
 they quickly made preparations to lower the 
 bed containing the sick man. As they lifted 
 him, he murmured in a low tone: " Where is he 
 the lad that was healed?" 
 
 " I am here," said Stephen, coming forward. 
 " Have courage!" he whispered. " I saw Him 
 through the hole in the roof. He will heal thee." 
 
 " Now then take a firm hold!" said Titus: 
 and grasping the ropes which someone had 
 brought, and which were firmly knotted to the 
 bed, the sick man was lowered carefully and 
 steadily through the opening till his bed rested 
 on the floor at the feet of Jesus. There was pro- 
 found silence for a moment; those in the cham- 
 ber below startled by the strange interruption, 
 and those crowded about the opening in the roof 
 breathless with anxiety for the success of their 
 bold plan. 
 
 The Master had been sitting as He talked, but 
 now He arose, and, stooping over, gazed intently 
 into the face of the sick man. In those pale, 
 pinched features and appealing eyes, He read 
 his whole pathetic story. Laying His hand upon 
 him tenderly, He said: 
 
 " My child, thy sins are forgiven thee." 
 
 Instantly there arose a murmur in the room. 
 The words, "He blasphemeth!" "God alone 
 can forgive sins!" " God will smite Him!" came 
 from one and another of the bearded and tur- 
 baned Rabbis who sat about. Then the Master 
 raised Himself up, and looking upon them with 
 the eye of omnipotence, said slowly: 
 
 " What reason ye in your hearts? Whether is 
 easier, to say, Thy sins be forgiven thee; or to 
 say, Rise up and walk? But that ye may know 
 that the Son of man hath power upon earth to 
 forgive sins," turning to the sick man" I say 
 unto thee. Arise, and take up thy couch, and go 
 into thine house." 
 
 " And immediately he rose up before them all, 
 and took up that whereon he lay, and departed 
 to his own house, glorifying God. And they 
 were all amazed, and they glorified God, and 
 
 were filled with fear, saying, We have seen 
 strange things to-day." 
 
 HE wor- 
 s h i p fill 
 J a i r u s, 
 ruler o f 
 the synagogue* 
 in Capernaum, 
 had just com- 
 pleted a careful 
 inspection of the 
 various gardens 
 connected with 
 his house. He was a 
 rich man, as well as 
 ruler of the syna- 
 gogue; it was there- 
 fore meet that all 
 things connected with 
 his domain should be done 
 decently and in order. He 
 had been making remarks 
 somewhat to this effect to 
 the servant who filled the 
 office of chief steward in 
 his house, and the man still 
 stood in his presence. 
 
 " I am not pleased with 
 the condition of the gardens 
 connected with the inner house, Benoni," he 
 said somewhat severely. " I saw many with- 
 ered leaves on the turf, and the shrubbery hath 
 not received the attention which it should have. 
 It is evident that there is fault somewhere." 
 
 " If I might venture the suggestion, most noble 
 master, I would say that it would be well to em- 
 ploy another servant. I can buy, if it please 
 thee, a slave, or for a small sum hire some 
 lad from the city. For truly the new vineyard 
 doth require much time and attention, and I 
 have therefore been unable to look to, the home 
 gardens as I ought. It is not that the servants 
 are idle, or that I "and here the man made a 
 low obeisance" am neglectful of my duty." 
 
 " Thou hast answered well, Benoni; the matter 
 of the new vineyard had entirely escaped my 
 memory. Seek out now a lad, and let it be his 
 duty to attend the gardens, that I be not further 
 vexed with the matter. And stay! be cautious 
 in the matter of selecting the lad, for the little 
 Ruth doth often play in the gardens, albeit at- 
 tended by her maidens, and I would not that 
 the boy be rough or discourteous." 
 
 *ii)ach synagogue had a council of influential men who 
 directed its affairs. The president of this council was 
 called the Ruler, or Chief Ruler,
 
 TITUS, A COMEADE OF THE CROSS. 
 
 " Thy commands, most worshipful master, 
 shall be obeyed; and I thank thee for thy good- 
 ness and forbearance to me in the matter." 
 
 So saying, the steward withdrew and at once 
 made his way to the nearest market-place. Hero 
 he proceeded to make known the fact that he, 
 Benoni, would engage the services of a likeiy 
 lad in behalf of his master the worshipful 
 Jairus. A number of lads who were idling about 
 the place eagerly gathered about him, but the 
 keen eye of the chief steward quickly pro- 
 nounced them, one and all, unfit for the position. 
 
 Now it happened that Stephen and Titus were 
 at one of the numerous stalls, bartering some 
 fish which they had taken that morning before 
 dawn, Titus as usual managing the business, 
 while Stephen stood by, looking dreamily at the 
 lively scene about him; the world, to which 
 he had been so long a stranger, present- 
 ing to his happy eyes a constantly shifting 
 kaleidoscope of wonderful pictures. This morn- 
 ing he saw at once the imposing figure of 
 Benoni as he entered the market-place, and fol- 
 lowed his subsequent proceedings with an inter- 
 ested eye. Just as Titus had finished the bar- 
 gaining to his satisfaction, he caught an excited 
 whisper from Stephen. 
 
 " That man yonder looketh for a lad to hire! 
 Why dost thou not speak with him? Then 
 mightest thou be safe from father and the men." 
 
 Titus looked in the direction to which Stephen 
 pointed, then said: " The man is a Jew. I care 
 not to hire with him." 
 
 " Nay, Titus, now thou art foolish. Come! 
 Wilt thou not speak with him?" 
 
 In another moment the two lads were in the 
 presence of Benoni. 
 
 " I heard thee, that thou didst inquh'e for a 
 lad," said Stephen hesitatingly, seeing that Titus 
 did not intend to speak. 
 
 " Thou didst hear aright." answered Benoni 
 with condescension. " But thou art too young. I 
 require a sturdy lad, more like to this one," 
 glancing, as he spoke, at Titus" to work in the 
 gardens of the house of the worshipful Jairus."' 
 
 "What work wouldst thou require?" asked 
 Titus, who had always had a curiosity to see the 
 interior of one of the great houses, so jealously 
 guarded by their high walls from the public 
 eye, and which had often been described to the 
 two lads by Prisca. 
 
 " The work will be, as I said, in and about the 
 gardens keeping the graveled paths in order, 
 and the turf fr^e from weeds and unsightly rub- 
 bish." 
 
 " I think I could do that." said Titus in a low 
 voice for he inwardly revolted at the idea of 
 service of any kind. 
 
 Benoni, however, convinced that his hesitation 
 was due solely to modesty, and withal satisfied 
 
 with the young man's general appearance, after 
 a few more perfunctory questions, quickly con- 
 cluded the bargain, stipulating that Titus should 
 accompany him at once, and be introduced to 
 his new work. 
 
 When Stephen was left alone, he stood gazing 
 after the two, and a desolate feeling of loneli- 
 ness almost overcame him for the moment. He 
 suddenly realized that all the delightful hours 
 on the lake with Titus, all the long rambles, and 
 the pleasant evening talks on the housetop, were 
 over 
 
 " Why did I ever see that man!" he murmured 
 disconsolately, feeling a strong desire to run 
 after Titus and beg of him to stay. 
 
 But in a moment he straightened himself. " I 
 am glad he hath gone," he thought. " It will be 
 best. As for me, I must learn to manage the 
 boat alone; I am nearly fifteen now and strong 
 enough. Mother needeth me; I must work for 
 her." And he started out for home at a brisk 
 pace to acquaint his mother with the occurrences 
 of the morning. 
 
 Meanwhile Titus and Benoni had reached the 
 house of Jairus. It was an imposing structure 
 occupying a whole square, but presenting to the 
 street on all sides, facades of massive rough- 
 hewn stone, windowless on the ground floor, 
 and broken only by a single entrance on each 
 of its four sides. From the second story pro- 
 jected certain high and wide windows filled with 
 the curious lattice-work which is to be seen in 
 Eastern houses to this day. 
 
 Being admitted to one of the strongly-guarded 
 portals, Titus and his guide found themselves 
 in an arched passage-way of stone; quickly 
 traversing this, they proceeded into a courtyard, 
 which Titus having in mind the description of 
 Prisca perceived to be the court of the houso- 
 hold; for here was the great central fountain, 
 there were the stalls for the horses and nniles, 
 and on the opposite side the appurtenances for 
 various kinds of work connected with the estab- 
 lishmentthe bake ovens, and the grindstones 
 in noisy operation, being most in evidence. It 
 was an animated scene, and everyone seemed to 
 be in the highest spirits, for the men were laugh- 
 ing and talking as they groomed the horses, 
 while the maidens about the fountain chattered 
 as gayly and incessantly as the sparrows which 
 were nesting in the cornice. 
 
 As the two entered, all eyes were turned at 
 once upon them, and one damsel, bolder thai? 
 the rest, came forward, and dropping a courtesy 
 said saucily: 
 
 " And here is our good Benoni. looking none 
 the worse for the interview which he had with 
 the master this morning! My mistress bade me 
 tell thee that she wished to speak with thee 
 immediately upon thy return. Pidst thou know
 
 T1WS, A COMitADE OF THE CftOSS. 
 
 that we are going up to Jerusalem, the next 
 week but one? 'Tis the Feast.* I am glad, for 
 my part; Jerusalem at Feast times hath a gayety 
 
 Before many days had passed Titus found 
 that Marissa had spoken truly. His work was 
 light and pleasant, and his beauty-loving eyes 
 
 which refresheth my spirit after our dull Caper- were never tired of looking at the wonders about 
 
 naum. 
 
 " Peace, maiden!" said Benoni severely. " Thy 
 tongue hath the sound of waters which run and 
 never cease. But now wilt thou see that this 
 lad hath some refreshment, while I wait upon 
 our worshipful lady? I will return for thee 
 shortly "turning to Titus " that thou mayst 
 get to thy work without delay." 
 
 The damsel, who was called Marissa, laughed 
 mockingly. " It would be well, good Benoni, 
 ere our worshipful 
 master return from 
 the synagogue. At 
 least fourscore more 
 of dried leaves have 
 fallen from the 
 shrubbery since thou 
 didst go forth this 
 morning." 
 
 But Benoni was al- 
 ready gone, appar- 
 ently not hearing the 
 last remark. 
 
 As soon as he had 
 disappeared, the girl 
 turned to Titus, and 
 with an approving 
 glance at his stal- 
 wart ti g u r e and 
 handsome face, said: 
 
 " Every time tho 
 master findeth fault 
 with our good Benoni 
 yonder, he doth mend 
 the matter by hiring 
 a new servant. I 
 heard the whole talk 
 
 him. On several occasions he had seen the mis- 
 tress of the house in her sweeping robes travers- 
 ing the terraces; and every day the little Ruth, 
 a pretty child of twelve, played about the shady 
 garden paths. But best of all, Benoni, finding 
 that he was skillful with boat and net, allowed 
 him to supply the household with fish. Stephen 
 invariably joined him in these expeditions, and 
 the two spent many delightful hours together. 
 " I shall not see thee again for many days," 
 
 Jerusalem as it appears to-day. 
 
 this morning from the terrace where I was sew- 
 ing. Thou art to pick off the yellow leaves from 
 the shrubs; it will require all thy strength!" 
 And again the girl laughed teasingly. 
 
 " Nay, I am to attend to the graveled walks, 
 and care for the turf," spoke Titus with an 
 angry flush. 
 
 " Do not be angry," said the girl. " Thou 
 shouldst be glad in these times to have fallen 
 into such a comfortable place; plenty would give 
 their eyes for it. And Benoni is a good master, 
 as thou wilt see, albeit a little stupid. But come, 
 let me show thee the place, and give thee to eat, 
 as I was bidden." 
 
 *A sort of holiday occasion commemorating some im- 
 portant event in Jewish history. Three times each year 
 every man and boy over thirteen years were to go to Jerusa- 
 lem to appear before the Lord in the Temple, on the occa- 
 sion of one of these feasts. The women and girls were not 
 obliged to go, but might do so. 
 
 said Titus on one of these occasions, as he 
 pushed off the boat from the shore. " Benoni 
 told me this morning that the family start to- 
 morrow for Jerusalem. Many of the household 
 will attend them. As for me, I have been chosen 
 to lead the mule on which the little Ruth is to 
 ride. Marissa saith that in Jerusalem we shall 
 stop at the palace of the High Priest, for the 
 lady Sara, our mistress, is sister to the wife of 
 Caiaphas." 
 
 " Thou wilt see wondrous things," said 
 Stephen, somewhat wistfully, but without a 
 trace of envy in his face. " I am glad that 1 
 have learned to manage the boat now; I shall 
 go out every day whilst thou art away." 
 
 " Thou dost very well with the boat, lad," 
 said Titus, somewhat patronizingly. " But thou 
 must beware of squalls; they come so suddenly, 
 that cooler heads and stronger arms than thine
 
 26 
 
 TITUS, A COMRADE OF THE CROSS. 
 
 have gone down ere this. Do not go out unless 
 the wind sets in the right quarter, as I showed 
 thee; and never alone at night. The hour of the 
 dawning will be best for thee." 
 
 " The Master and His disciples, with many 
 others, have already set forth for Jerusalem," 
 said Stephen presently. Then after a pause he 
 continued: "Thou knowest the man Benjamin, 
 who was palsied, and whom the Master healed 
 so marvelously. He hath not forgotten ,us. I 
 met him not many days since, as I was coming 
 from the synagogue, and he took me with him 
 to his home. He is going to teach me how to 
 read in the Hebrew Scriptures, so that I shall 
 no longer be a heathen, as his father did call 
 me. He hath given me a roll* that he himself 
 did study when he was my age albeit he studied 
 lying helpless on his bed. And he taught me a 
 Psalm. Shall I say it to thee?" 
 
 Titus assented, and the lad repeated to the 
 musical accompaniment of the water rippling 
 along the side of the boat: 
 
 " ' The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want. 
 He maketh me to lie down in green pastures; 
 He leadeth me beside the still waters. He restor- 
 eth my soul; He leadeth me in the paths of 
 righteousness, for His name's sake. Yea, though 
 I walk through the valley of the shadow of 
 death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; 
 thy rod and thy staff they 
 comfort me. Thou prepar- 
 est a table before me in the 
 presence of mine enemies; 
 thou anointest my head 
 with oil; my cup runneth 
 over. Surely goodness and 
 mercy shall follow me all 
 the days of my life; and I 
 will dwell in the house of 
 the Lord for ever.' 
 
 " Is it not beautiful!" said 
 Stephen softly. " And there 
 are many more. I shall 
 learn them all. Benjamin 
 saith that I must learn the 
 Law also. But that I like not so well; there are 
 so many ' Thou shalt not's,' that it quite bewil- 
 dereth me to hear them read; and I know not 
 how I could observe them all." 
 
 " Thou wilt be a Pharisee yet," said Titus, 
 half bitterly. " I fancy I see thee now with a 
 long robe, and a big phylactery** bound to thy 
 brow." 
 
 " Nay," answered Stephen simply. " I would 
 rather follow the Master. He wears no phylac- 
 tery; and I am sure that He is not a Pharisee." 
 
 *A book. Books were written upon long strips of parch- 
 ment or other flexible material rolled upon a stick as a 
 map is rolled. The reader unrolled the book to tbe place 
 he wanted to read, and rolled it up again when through. 
 
 " Dost thou know, Stephen," said Titus pres- 
 ently, after the two had lowered their net, " that 
 that psalm, as thou callest it, soundeth strangely 
 familiar in mine ears, like something I have 
 heard many times, and forgotten. And the house 
 of Jairus it is certain that I have seen some- 
 thing like it in a dream." 
 
 " Thou hast heard the mother tell of the great 
 house in which she lived as a maiden; 'tis of 
 that thou hast dreamed, my Titus." 
 
 " But the psalm!" persisted Titus. " Did the 
 mother sing it in this way?" And he began a 
 low metrical chanting of the words which 
 Stephen had recited. But he broke off abruptly 
 after a few lines, saying: " It hath gone from 
 me, now," then relapsed into silence, which ho 
 seemed not disposed to break; though Stephen 
 talked gayly on, apparently unmindful of the 
 fact that he had a very indifferent, listener. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 HOUGH the dawn was yet so 
 young that a few stars lin- 
 gered in the heavens, the 
 great courtyard in the house of 
 Jairus was a scene of the liveliest 
 confusion. Servants were flying 
 hither and thither, and men shout- 
 ing to each other as they led forth 
 the mules and prepared to load 
 them with the baggage of various sorts which 
 was already lying in great piles on the pave- 
 ment. In the midst of the court stood Benoui, 
 directing one here, cautioning another there, 
 and keeping a calm and dignified mien, as was 
 his wont on all occasions, however trying. As 
 the beasts of burden were loaded, one after an- 
 other was led out into the street and stood wait- 
 ing in a long line. 
 
 " And now bring forth the master's horse, to- 
 gether with the mules, and quickly! For time 
 doth fly, and we must accomplish the first stage 
 of our journey before the heat of the day be- 
 gins." 
 
 At this command there issued from his stall 
 an Arabian horse, showing in his full, dark eyes, 
 small head, and slender, clean-cut limbs, all his 
 pride of birth. After the Arabian came a num- 
 ber of large, sleek mules, with luxurious ac- 
 
 **Little rolls of parchment on which were written verses 
 from the scriptures. They were enclosed in small boxes 
 provided with long leather straps for fastening, and were 
 worn upon the forehead and left arm during prayers. The 
 Pharisees made their phylacteries large so as to attract 
 attentioa
 
 TITUS, A COMRADE OF THE CROSS. 
 
 27 
 
 \coutremonts; each led by a groom. Benoni had 
 'already left the courtyard for the purpose of 
 informing his master that all was ready for 
 a start, and he now hurried forth again, fol- 
 lowed in more leisurely fashion by Jairus, his 
 wife the noble Sara and their little daughter, 
 Ruth, with several maids laden with wraps of 
 various kinds. 
 
 "I am so glad that 'we are going at last!" 
 cried Ruth joyously, bounding ahead of the rest 
 of the party. " And there is my dear old Bekah! 
 Ah, I believe you know me, you darling!" 
 caressing, as she spoke, the nose of a snow- 
 white mule, which stood a little apart from the 
 others. 
 
 " Wait, darling," said the soft voice of her 
 mother. " Let Beuoni lift thee to the saddle." 
 
 But the strong arm of Titus had already 
 snugly eusconced the little damsel in her place. 
 
 " Titus can do it quite as well as Benoni, as 
 thou seest, my mother," said Ruth gayly. " I 
 am so glad that thou art to lead my Bekah!'' 
 she continued, patting the glossy neck of the 
 animal, " because I can talk to thee as we 
 journey. Last time I had old Asa, and he was 
 too deaf to hear me, even had I cared to talk 
 with him." 
 
 Titus showed his white teeth in an apprecia- 
 tive smile, but said nothing. Truth to tell he 
 stood somewhat in awe of the imperious little 
 maiden, who, with her deep hazel eyes and 
 golden hair, seemed a being set apart from the 
 rest of the world. 
 
 At last all were settled to their satisfaction, 
 and one after another moved slowly out from 
 the great gateway, now thrown wide open. 
 Benoni wiped his heated face, and paused for a 
 few last words of warning and advice to the 
 uuder-steward, who was to be left in charge of 
 the house during his absence; but he too finally 
 jumped into his saddle and clattered rapidly 
 down the street after the procession, which was 
 already well under way. 
 
 Ruth rode behind her mother, and was fol- 
 lowed by Marissa; while Jarius, with a number 
 of heavily-armed men-servants, traveled in 
 front. The beasts of burden, laden with rich 
 offerings for the Feast, and with the tents, cook- 
 ing utensils, and other things needful for the 
 journey, each under the charge of a man, 
 brought up the rear. 
 
 The city was already stirring, early as it was, 
 and the procession, as it wound through the 
 streets and squares, attracted much attention. 
 The wife of Jairus drew her white veil more 
 closely about her face, and bade her daughter 
 do the same. The little maiden obeyed, but her 
 bright eyes peeping out from the gauzy folds 
 were intent on losing nothing of the lively 
 scenes about. 
 
 Presently, to his surprise, Titus spied Stephen, 
 his fishing nets on his shoulder, waiting, like the 
 others, to see the cavalcade pass. On beholding 
 Titus, his face flushed with pleasure, and hold- 
 ing up a string of fish, that their size and num- 
 ber might be appreciated, he shouted: 
 
 " Farewell; and may the gods protect thee!" 
 
 "Who is that lad?" asked Ruth curiously. 
 " And why doth he say, ' May the gods protect 
 thee,' as if there were several?" 
 
 " 'Tis my brother Stephen," answered Titus. 
 " And he saith ' gods,' because he hath been 
 accustomed to hear it from his youth. W r e are 
 of Greek parentage." 
 
 " Nay, thou lookest not like a Greek; I have 
 seen many of them," said the little girl. " Thou 
 art a Jew, by thy features; thou art exactly like 
 someone I know, but who it is I cannot remem- 
 ber. But tell me of this brother of thine 
 Stephen, thou didst call him." 
 
 " I can tell thee something wonderful about 
 him," said Titus. " He was a cripple, and 
 could not walk; and the Healer Jesus cured 
 him, so that he is, as thou didst see, a strong 
 lad, albeit of a delicate and beautiful counten- 
 ance at least," added Titus modestly, " he doth 
 so seem to me." 
 
 " Yes, of course," said Ruth, somewhat impa- 
 tient at the digression. " But was he really 
 healed, so that he can walk? Tell me all about 
 it every thing." 
 
 Thus commanded, Titus told, with as much of 
 detail as he was able, the story of the baby and 
 Stephen, Ruth interrupting him at intervals 
 with questions. 
 
 "Ah!" said she, drawing a long breath of 
 pleasure, when he had finished, " I like that 
 story! And the best of it is, that it is all true. 
 I too have seen the Nazarene," she continued 
 thoughtfully after a pause. " I think Him the 
 most wonderful, the most beautiful, the best 
 Man in the whole world! I have always wished 
 to talk with Him, but my mother says that we 
 cannot, for He is ever surrounded with a great 
 crowd of poor people." 
 
 They had now passed out of the city and had 
 begun the ascent of one of the high steep hills 
 which shut in on every side the beautiful little 
 lake of Gennesaret, as it was sometimes called. 
 The way became difficult and stony, so that 
 Titus was kept busy picking the best places for 
 the mule. The wife of Jairus glanced back sev- 
 eral times to see that her darling was safe and 
 that the lad was sufficiently careful, and every 
 time caught a bright smile from the little girl. 
 
 " The precious one!" the mother murmured 
 happily to herself. " She hath a smile like to 
 the sunlight." 
 
 After a hard climb of about an hour, the top 
 
 f the ascent was reached, and all paused for a
 
 \ 
 
 TITUS, A COMRADE OF THE CROSS. 
 
 few moments to rest. The sun was up now, and 
 the scene spread out before the travelers was 
 one of marvelous beauty. Hundreds of feet be- 
 neath them lay the silver expanse of the lake, 
 studded with sails; while on every side the hills, 
 covered with luxuriant foliage and dotted with 
 villages, rose higher and higher, till in the far 
 distance gleamed the snowy head of Mount 
 Hermon. 
 
 " I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from 
 whence cometh my help!" murmured the lady 
 Sara softly, as she looked. 
 
 The days that followed were full of delight 10 
 Titus. To his sturdy frame the easy stages of 
 the journey caused no fatigue, while the ever- 
 changing scenery, the picturesque evening en- 
 campments, and the growing friendliness of tin; 
 little Ruth, brought a happiness such as he had 
 never known before. All that had embittered 
 his young life lay far behind now, and his soul 
 responded strongly to the new, sweet influences 
 which surrounded him. 
 
 On the fourth day of the journey, it became 
 evident that they were approaching the Holy 
 City, for the bauds of pilgrims, together with 
 flocks of sheep and oxen for sacrifice and feast- 
 ingwhich they had met occasionally during 
 the whole course of their journey became more 
 and more frequent. Many of these pilgrim 
 bands were singing while they marched along, 
 and fragments of their song floated back on tho 
 wind, as they defiled through the narrow val- 
 leys: 
 
 " Our feet shall stand within thy gates, O 
 Jerusalem; whither the tribes go up, the tribes 
 of the Lord, to give thanksgiving unto the name 
 of the Lord. Pray for the peace of Jerusalem; 
 they shall prosper that love thee; peace be with- 
 in thy walls, and prosperity within thy palaces." 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 &TELL thee that the time for look- 
 ing lightly on this thing hath 
 passed, for this Man doth con- 
 tinually blaspheme the name of 
 the Almighty." 
 
 The speaker was Caiaphas. As 
 he spoke, he was striding impa- 
 tiently up and down one of the 
 roof terraces of his house, while 
 Jairus, his guest, half reclined 
 upon a marble bench near it 
 hand. The two sisters sat at a little distance, 
 placidly happy in each other's society, an'l 
 Ruth, leaning both elbows upon the parapet, 
 gazed with wide, childish eyes upon the wonder- 
 
 ful panorama of the Holy City spread out be- 
 neath her. 
 
 " Thou didst hear this Jesus to-day, when He 
 was questioned concerning the so-called healing 
 of the impotent man at Bethesda. ' God judg- 
 eth no man.' He said, 'but hath committed all 
 judgment unto the Son,' meaning Himself. AnJ 
 further, ' That all men should honor the Son 
 even as they honor the Father.' 'Even as'! 
 didst note the words? Then He went on to 
 speak of John who is justly shut up, fci 1 I be- 
 
 lieve that he was beside him- 
 self. ' There is another,' He 
 said, ' that beareth witness of 
 me, and I know that the wit- 
 ness which he witnesseth of 
 me is true.' " 
 
 " He said those words," re- 
 plied Jairus, who had listened 
 in silence up to this point, 
 " but there was another thing 
 also which He said, and 
 which I have not forgotten; 'twas this: 'But 
 I have greater witness than that of John; for 
 the works which the Father hath given me 
 to finish, the same works that I do, bear 
 witness of me, that the Father hath sent 
 me.' Thou dost in thine accusation of the Man 
 singularly overlook the works of healing, 
 assuredly great and marvelous, which He con- 
 tinueth daily to perform. What canst thou say 
 to such a cure as that of the man who, as thou 
 knowest, on reputable testimony, had lain on 
 his bed helpless for thirty and eight years? 
 With a word the Nazarene restored him per- 
 fectly." 
 "Aye, but mark the word!" said Caiaphas
 
 TITUS, A COMEADE OF THE CBOSS. 
 
 29 
 
 with heat. " It was the Sabbath day, and He 
 said unto him, ' Rise, take up thy bed and 
 walk.' In that He both healed him, and bade 
 him take up and carry his bed, on the Sabbath 
 day, He hath done that which is unlawful. He 
 is therefore guilty of blasphemy and also of 
 profaning the law of the Most High; and thou 
 knowest the penalty of such misdeeds," he 
 added darkly. 
 
 Neither of the men noticed that the little Ruth 
 had turned about and was listening with an 
 anxious face to the discussion, until she sud- 
 denly startled 
 them both 
 with the ques- 
 tion: 
 
 " Dost thou 
 speak of Je- 
 sus of Naza- 
 reth, Uncle 
 Joseph ?" 
 
 "Why dost 
 thou ask, 
 my child?" 
 said Caiaphas 
 gently, paus- 
 i n g in his 
 walk t o lay 
 his hand 
 cares singly 
 upon her 
 golden hair. 
 
 "I know 
 Him too, and 
 have seen 
 Him. If He 
 is the Son of 
 God, as He 
 doth declare, 
 would He not 
 have the right 
 
 "Dost thou speak of Jesus of Nazareth, Uncle Joseph?' 1 '' 
 
 " My darling," said her mother softly, " it is 
 not seemly for a babe like thee to discuss this 
 matter with thine uncle, more especially as he 
 doth hold the sacred office of High Priest in 
 God's holy Temple. Thou must come with me 
 now, that thou mayst grow calm before the 
 time to sleep." 
 
 So saying, the two women went away with 
 the child, who was now weeping softly. As the 
 sound of their trailing garments ceased upon the 
 stairway, Jairus turned to Caiaphas, who was 
 gazing silently towards the Temple, whose 
 
 walls and 
 towers glowed 
 with rosy and 
 golden reflec.- 
 tions in the 
 last rays o f 
 the setting 
 sun, and said 
 solemnly: 
 
 "To my 
 mind my 
 brother, this is 
 a time of great 
 r e sponsibility 
 to the heads of 
 the nation. If 
 the child 
 spoke truly 
 as I myself 
 b e li eve 
 'twere assur- 
 edly an awful 
 thing to reject 
 God's Anoint- 
 ed." 
 
 Caiaphas re- 
 mained silent 
 for a moment, 
 then he 
 
 to heal on the Sabbath day, which is God's day?" 
 " The child speaketh well," said Jairus 
 proudly. " I would have asked thee that ques- 
 tion myself." 
 
 " And I should have answered thee that His 
 pretensions are, as I have said before, blas- 
 phemous. We know that this Man is the son of 
 a common carpenter nay, more; He is Himself 
 a common carpenter, and hath followed the 
 trade, working with His hands until lately; His 
 home is in Nazareth; and can any good thing 
 come out of Nazareth?" 
 
 " But, Uncle Joseph," persisted the little 
 damsel, her face flushing, and her eyes filling 
 with tears, " how could He do the wonderful 
 things that He doeth, unless God be with Him? 
 I love Him!" she continued passionately, with- 
 out waiting his answer, " and I believe that He 
 is, as He hath said, the Son of God." 
 
 turned slowly and looked at Jairus. 
 
 " Thou art a good man, and my brother; it 
 were well for us not to talk of this matter 
 further, lest it make between us a breach which 
 cannot be healed. I will tell thee plainly, once 
 and for all, that my mind is made up about 
 this Man. He must die; for 'twere better for one 
 to die than for many to perish." But even as 
 he spoke the prophetic words, he shuddered 
 slightly and glanced up towards the heavens. 
 
 In the meantime, in one of the great shadowy 
 chambers of the palace, the two women, having 
 dismissed the maid, were putting the little Ruth 
 to bed. The child, kneeling at her mother's 
 knee, had repeated her psalms and prayers; 
 and now she was resting snugly in the stately 
 bed, with its carven posts and drapery and 
 coverlid of purple, 'broidered with gold. 
 
 " And now, my mother, wilt thou tell me a
 
 30 
 
 TITUS, A COMBADE OF THE CEOSS. 
 
 story?" she pleaded. "Tell me of David and 
 Goliath." 
 
 And the mother told the story, so familiar from 
 her youth that she repeated it in the language 
 of the Scripture itself. 
 
 " I have always liked that story," said Ruth 
 enthusiastically when she had finished. " How 
 I should like to have seen David when he stood 
 up on the body of the giant Philistine, an'l 
 grasped his great sword to cut off his wicked 
 old head." She paused a moment, as if pictur- 
 ing the scene to herself, then she added eagerly: 
 " I think, my mother, that David must have 
 looked exactly like my Titus." 
 
 " How canst thou say that, my child ? Thou 
 knowest that thy Titus, as thou callest him, is a 
 Greek." 
 
 " Nay," said the little girl positively, " I told 
 him that could not be, for he hath the face of a 
 Jew. Hath he not now with his dark skin, his 
 eagle nose, and those great, flashing eyes of 
 his? He hath a countenance like yes, I know 
 it now like to my Uncle Joseph's!" half rising, 
 as she spoke, in her excitement. 
 
 " My child, my child!" said the mother, gently 
 but firmly, " thou must lie down and sleep now! 
 Thy brain teemeth with wild fancies. I will 
 sit outside on the terrace neap thee, but thou 
 must indeed be calm." 
 
 " Who is the lad that the child speaketh of?" 
 questioned the lady Anna carelessly, as the 
 two settled themselves upon tbe terrace outside 
 the chamber. 
 
 "He is a lad from Capernaum, wnom 
 our good Benonl hath recently employed 
 to assist about the gardens. My impetuous little 
 daughter hath taken a great liking to him, and 
 asked that he might lead her mule upon the 
 journey. Indeed, he seemeth to be a kind and 
 careful lad, albeit of a very common Greek 
 family. My Ruth hath had so much excitement 
 of late, that her tongue doth run overmuch; I 
 must see to it that she hath more quiet, and 
 some wholesome employment." 
 
 "I have seen the lad," said Anna musingly. 
 " He hath a noble countenance, and strangely 
 enough of the purest Jewish type. Thou art 
 assured that he is of Greek parentage?" 
 
 " It Is certain," replied her sister, " for I made 
 careful inquiry through Benoni himself. His 
 father is called Dumachus." 
 
 Then half guessing her sister's thoughts, and 
 wishing to divert them from so painful a chan- 
 nel, she said: " But now that we are alone, 
 and not likely to be interrupted, I will tell thee 
 how I heard the Naaarene teach the people. I 
 had long been anxious to know more fully what 
 those teachings were; for, as thou knowest, re- 
 ports oftentimes untrue reach us from careless 
 listeners, 8p, bearing tbdt He had gone for 
 
 from the city towards Tiberias, my husband 
 and myself, attended only by Benoni, set forth, 
 all three riding upon mules in true peasant 
 fashion, for we desired not to attract attention 
 After riding for some distance we fell in with 
 numerous people, all journeying in the same 
 direction. Every one was talking of the wonder- 
 ful works of healing which he had seen, and 
 many who had been healed were journeying 
 also, and were pointed out to me by Benoni, 
 who hath taken a wondrous interest in this 
 Man. We heard finally, that He was to be 
 found at Hattin. Thou wilt remember the place 
 'tis about seven miles from Capernaum; there 
 is there a small village at the foot of the double 
 peaked hill, called sometimes the Horns of Hat- 
 tin.* The hill can be distinctly seen from our 
 house in Capernaum. 
 
 " Upon arriving at this place, we found assem 
 bled there a great multitude of people, of all 
 nationalities, and of all grades of society. We 
 quickly learned that the Nazarene was even 
 then upon the top of the mountain, and with 
 Him those men who are already known as His 
 disciples. Presently we saw that He was de^ 
 scending the slope, surrounded by His followers; 
 instantly there pressed forward those who had 
 brought their sick to be healed. We were not 
 pear enough to see what manner of sickness 
 there was among them, nor exactly what trans- 
 pired; but from the excitement of the crowd, 
 and the thanksgivings and hallelujahs whicli 
 burst forth, it was evident that all were healed, 
 
 " Meanwhile we edged our way among the 
 throngs, and finally succeeded in getting within 
 bearing distance of the Nazarene. He had 
 seated Himself now upon a great rock; and as 
 He gazed around on the assembled multitudes, 
 the look upon His face was such that I could 
 not but think of the great angels of our Holy 
 Scriptures. Presently He began to speak. I 
 would that I could tell thee each word of that 
 discourse, for it was wondrous by reason of its 
 wisdom. If He had been the law-giver Moses, 
 himself, fresh from Sinai, he could not have 
 spoken with greater authority. 
 
 " He began with blessings. I do not remem- 
 ber them all, but one stands out in my memory 
 above the others: " Blessed are they that mourn; 
 for they shall be comforted.' He said also, that 
 the meek, the merciful, and the pure in heart, 
 were blessed; and all those who should be 
 abused and persecuted for the sake of the 
 Christ. ' Rejoice and exult,' He said, looking at 
 His disciples, ' when men shall falsely reproach 
 you, and say every wicked word against you, on 
 account of me. Your reward shall be great in 
 
 "It is generally conceded bj 
 t,he soew f $9 Spraon ?g
 
 TITUS, A COMEADE OF THE CEOSS. 
 
 '61 
 
 the heavens, for thus did they persecute the 
 prophets of old. Ye are the light of the world. 
 A city builded upon a mountain cannot be hid; 
 and when one lighteth a lamp, they do not put it 
 under a corn measure, but upon a lamp stand, 
 and it giveth light to all who are in the house. 
 Thus let your light shine; that men may see it 
 and praise your Father which dwelleth in the 
 heavens.'* 
 
 " Then, my sister, I noticed that He said Ho 
 was not come to abolish the Law or the Proph- 
 ets, but to fulfill them both; and that not the 
 least thing should pass away, till all had come 
 to pass. And further, that unless our righteous- 
 ness should be greater than that of the Scribes 
 and Pharisees, we could never enter Into the 
 kingdom of the heavens. Then He spoke of the 
 Law in detail, and showed that in His opinion 
 the person who was angry without reason, was 
 as liable to judgment as a murderer; that if a 
 person was engaged in a quarrel with another, 
 he could not acceptably offer sacrifices to God. 
 Moreover, that one should not attempt to resist 
 an evil doer, but rather shame him with gener- 
 osity; that we must love, not alone our friends, 
 but even those who hated us and tried to do us 
 harm; and that we must pray for wicked per- 
 sons, for go might we be children of our Father 
 In the heavens. For His sun rlseth on those who 
 are evil, as well as on those who are good; Hia 
 rain also, cometh down on the grouted of the bad 
 man, as well as on that of the good, And that if 
 we love and are courteous to our equals only, 
 we are no better than the Ipwest. In short, wo 
 must try to be perfect, even as our Father in 
 heaven is perfect. 
 
 " Be careful, He said, not to be charitable In 
 order that your friends may see and praise you 
 for It! If ye give to the poor In this way, God 
 will not reward you. Giving done quietly, and 
 without parade, shall be rewarded openly. He 
 also condemned making a show of prayer; and 
 thou knowest, my sister, bow our Scribes and 
 Pharisees sometimes pray even on the street 
 I have wondered how they could realize what 
 they were doing, as they stand on the corners 
 and pray so loudly. The Nazarene declared that 
 they do It simply to be seen and praised of the 
 lookers-on, and that truly they will get nothing 
 else for their prayers. ' If thou wouldst be 
 heard and answered of God,' He said, ' pray 
 secretly in your own chamber with closed door. 
 And do not suppose that the Father demandeth 
 long prayers, or is pleased with empty repeti- 
 tions; the heathen pray in that way. God is 
 your Father; He knoweth what things ye have 
 need of, before ye ask Him.' He doth not wait 
 to have us ask, for see how He careth for every 
 
 creature, even for those who, like the heathen, 
 never pray aright. Yet must we pray, for so it 
 pleaseth the Father. Then He said: 'After this 
 manner pray ye: Our Father, who art in the 
 heavens, sanctified be thy name. Let thy king- 
 dom come, let thy will be done, as in the heav- 
 ens so also upon the earth. The needed bread 
 give us to-day. Forgive us our debts, as also we 
 forgive our debtors. And lead us not into temp- 
 tation, but deliver us from the evil one. For 
 thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the 
 glory, to the ages. Amen.' "* 
 
 " 'Tis a wondrous prayer," said Anna, her eyes 
 glowing in the semi-darkness. " But His teach- 
 ings are strangely different from what hath 
 sounded in our ears since Moses led forth the 
 people of Israel from Egypt." 
 
 " But hath it not the sound of truth? It seem- 
 eth so to me," answered her sister. "I can tell 
 thee more, if thou wilt hear it. Art thou not 
 weary?" 
 
 " Nay, tell me more all that thou canst," said 
 Anna. 
 
 " I feel that, at best, I can only give frag-, 
 ments, but I will try. He counseled that we 
 should not care overmuch for the treasures of 
 earth; for such things are liable to be eaten with, 
 moths, or rusted away, else stolen. Thou know? 
 est how true that is, my sister?" 
 
 " It Is indeed true," murmured Anna with a 
 sigh, thinking how her chiefest treasure had, 
 been stolen from her. 
 
 " Lay up for yourselves treasures In heaven, 
 where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and 
 where thieves do not break through nor steal," 
 continued Anna softly, ''And do not be over- 
 anxious about the future, for your Father In 
 heaven knoweth that ye have need of food, and 
 clothing, and shelter; and If He clothe the wili 
 lilies, which toll not at all, more gorgeously than 
 even the great Solomon In alfhis glory, shall He 
 forget His children? The first thing and the most 
 Important, Is to seek after God and Hla right, 
 eousness, If we do this, all else that is needful 
 shall be given us by the hand that never falleth. 
 Do not criticise others, for often we ourselves 
 are full of faults more evil; we must be judged 
 even as we judge our fellow-men. God will give 
 more abundantly to His children, when they ask 
 Him, than earthly parents to their children! 
 So that if we desire anything, we must ask It of 
 our heavenly Father. We shall surely receive 
 it, if it be for our good. To keep perfectly the 
 Law and the Prophets note this particularly, 
 my sister, for it is what we are always laboring 
 to perform' it is only necessary to do unro 
 others, such things as we would wish them to do 
 to us.' 
 
 f I4teril translation firpa the Greefc 
 
 literal from the Greefc
 
 32 
 
 TITUS, A COMRADE OF THE CROSS. 
 
 " His closing words were astonishing, for in 
 them He plainly declared Himself to be the 
 Heaven-sent One. ' Not every one who shall say 
 to me, Lord, Lord, shall enter into the kingdom 
 of the heavens; but he who doeth the will of 
 my Father who is in heaven. Many will say to 
 me in that day, Did we not cast out devils in thy 
 name, and in thy name perform many works of 
 power? Then shall I say to them, I never knew 
 you. Depart from me, ye who work lawless- 
 ness. Every one therefore who heareth these 
 words of mine, and liveth them, is like a prudent 
 man, who built his house upon a rock. Down 
 came the rain; the streams rose; and the strong 
 winds blew; but the house was safe; for it was 
 builded upon a rock. But he who heareth these 
 words and heedeth them not, is like a man who 
 foolishly built his house upon the sand. Down 
 came the rain; the streams rose; and the tempest 
 raged and beat upon that house; and it fell, and 
 great was the fall of it.' 
 
 " When He had finished these sayings a great 
 murmur of amazement arose from that vast 
 multitude. Truly, my sister, it was a marvelous 
 discourse, though I can but dimly and imper- 
 fectly repeat it to thee. I would that thou 
 couldst hear the Man for thyself." 
 
 " I would that I might," said the lady Anna; 
 then she added hesitatingly, " But thou knowest 
 how my husband thinketh, and our father also." 
 
 " Yes, I know," assented her sister simply. 
 
 After that the two were silent, absorbed each 
 in her own thoughts, while within the child slept 
 peacefully. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 HIS TLING 
 softly to 
 himself a s 
 he worked, 
 Titus was 
 fastening up 
 some long 
 tendrils of a 
 climbing 
 vine; it was 
 a difficult 
 job, and 
 when he had 
 finished, his 
 face was 
 quite hot 
 and flushed. 
 H e there- 
 fore walked slowly across the turf to the fount- 
 ain, and, seating himself on the marble ledge 
 which surrounded it, began plunging his hand 
 
 and arm into its cool depths, withdrawing it at 
 intervals to wet his curly head. 
 
 " Ah, that cold water, how good it is!" he mur- 
 mured to himself; then shaking his head vigor- 
 ously to rid it of the superfluous drops, he stood 
 up, and resting his hands upon his hips, looked 
 around the garden with great satisfaction. He 
 had been hard at work since early dawn; and 
 as his eyes wandered from the trim shrubbery 
 to the velvet turf, and then on to the masses of 
 brilliant flowers and graceful festoons of vines, 
 he saw nothing to criticise. 
 
 " It looketh well to me," he said aloud. " But 
 I know not what Benoni will think; he hath 
 the eye of an eagle for a trace of disorder." 
 Then catching sight of some bright-colored ob- 
 ject on the ground under one of the marble 
 benches, he stooped and picked it up. It was a 
 ball, gayly striped with blue, scarlet and yellow. 
 As he turned it over and over in his hands, he 
 smiled and said, " I wonder where the little 
 lady is this morning. Ah, there is Marissa!" 
 
 The maid was passing rapidly towards the 
 court, bearing a pitcher in her hands. She 
 stopped and turned, as Titus called to her, and 
 as he came near, he noticed that she was un- 
 usually grave. 
 
 " Here is a ball belonging to our little lady," 
 he said. " Wilt thou take care of it? She hath 
 not been in the garden to play this morning." 
 
 " She is ill," said Marissa soberly; " we have 
 sent out for a physician. I am going now for 
 some hot water; do not keep me." 
 
 Titus opened the door leading into the passage- 
 way which connected the two courtyards, and 
 followed Marissa as she hastened on with her 
 pitcher. 
 
 " What aileth the little one?" he asked, as she 
 paused to dip some water from a steaming 
 cauldron. 
 
 " We Know not She hath fever and complain- 
 eth of pain in her head. It hath not been well 
 with her since our return from Jerusalem." 
 
 " Where is the master?" asked Titus. 
 
 " He is with the child," answered Marissa, 
 " also her mother, and old Tabitha, who nursed 
 the mistress in her infancy. She knoweth more 
 about sickness than all the doctors put together. 
 Ugh! I dread to have them come near the child 
 with their loathsome messes! When I had the 
 fever, they gave me the juice of scorpions mixed 
 with wine.* I swallowed it not, but poured out 
 each dose; I thought the medicine would be 
 better in the ground than I myself yet awhile." 
 And she hurried away with the steaming pitcher, 
 leaving Titus to tell the sad news of the little 
 
 *This remedy and the others which are spoken of in this 
 chapter were actually prescribed by physicians of that 
 day. (See Pliny's Natural History.)
 
 TITUS. A COMRADE OF THE CBOSS. 
 
 33 
 
 Ruth's illness to the other servants, who had 
 crowded around. 
 
 He left them as soon as possible, for their 
 society was at best distasteful to him, and now 
 their dismal forebodings and ominous waggings 
 of the head filled him with a kind of dull rage. 
 
 " The stupid rabble!" he muttered to himself, 
 " they care for nothing so much as to wag their 
 chattering tongues! How they peep and whis- 
 per, and run with every bit of news, as doth a 
 greedy chicken with a piece of bread." 
 
 He was wronging them, and in his heart he 
 knew it, for every one about the place loved the 
 little lady, as she was always called. 
 
 As he paced uneasily up and down, he saw 
 that the door of the passage-way leading to the 
 street was standing open; and presently, with- 
 out exactly knowing why, he found himself out- 
 side. Once there, he bent his steps toward the 
 quarter of the town where was the poor place 
 he still called home. 
 
 " I must see Stephen," he said to himself, as 
 be hurried along. 
 
 Meanwhile, in her chamber, which opened 
 upon one of the small inner courts of the house, 
 the little Ruth was tossing wearily upon her 
 bed. 
 
 " Oh, mother, my head! my head!" she moaned. 
 And the mother saw, with a sinking heart, the 
 scarlet flush on her cheeks, and the eyes hourly 
 growing more sunken and brilliant. 
 
 The good old Tabitha was wringing out linen 
 cloths from cold water, which she placed upon 
 the sufferer's brow, while at intervals she 
 caused them to put the little feet into a basin of 
 hot water. 
 
 " We must keep the heat from the darling's 
 head," she was saying, with the wisdom born 
 of good common sense and long experience. " I 
 have saved many a fever patient, as thou know- 
 est, with water alone." 
 
 "Why doth not the physician come?" said 
 Jairus impatiently. " I would be doing some- 
 thing for her, in the way of medicament; the 
 water is well enough, but for such a sickness as 
 this, medicine is assuredly needful." 
 
 Even as he spoke, Marissa announced the phy- 
 sician, standing aside that he might enter before 
 her. 
 
 A tall, heavily-bearded man, magnificently 
 attired, swept into the apartment, attended by 
 a small, black slave bearing the various ap- 
 purtenances of his craft. He greeted Jairus 
 ceremoniously; then, approaching the bedside 
 of the child, he looked at her, narrowing his 
 eyes, pursing up his mouth, and frowning deeply 
 as he did so. Presently he put out his hand and 
 laid it upon the child's head, then hemmed 
 loudly. The little thing started, and trembled, 
 and hid her face in her mother's gown. 
 
 " She hath a burning heat!" said the great man 
 finally, in a deep, sonorous voice; then he rolled 
 his eyes majestically at Tabitha, as she was 
 about to place a fresh cool bit of linen on the 
 child's burning forehead, and stretched forth his 
 hand forbiddingly. 
 
 "Woman!" he said sternly, "cease thy fool- 
 ishness! Water is indeed good in health, but 
 thou hast imperiled the child's life by thy 
 folly." 
 
 Tabitha turned her broad back upon him, and 
 was heard to mutter something unintelligible. 
 
 The physician now beckoned to his slave, and. 
 taking from him a small brazen vessel, he pro- 
 ceeded to mingle in it a number of dark liquids, 
 together with a grayish white powder. When 
 he had finished this, he again turned to his 
 familiar, who immediately produced from an- 
 other receptacle a dead snake. This the great 
 man proceeded to skin. When he had finished 
 the operation, which he performed with mar- 
 velous deftness, he again hemmed loudly, and 
 said: 
 
 " Thou shalt make of this snake-skin three por- 
 tions; one portion shall be bound upon the fore- 
 head of the child, and one upon the sole of each 
 foot. Also of the draught which I have min- 
 gled, give her, at intervals of an hour, one great 
 spoonful. If it be the will of Jehovah, she will 
 recover within seven days. I shall return again 
 at the evening hour. And stay!" here again 
 his eye sought Tabitha" 'Twere better to re- 
 move yon contentious woman from the apart- 
 ment." Then bowing deeply, he was about to 
 leave the room, when Jairus stopped him with 
 an imperious gesture. 
 
 " Good sir!" he demanded, " I would know 
 what hath entered into the potion which she is 
 to swallow." 
 
 The physician frowned, and shook his head, 
 but finally said majestically: 
 
 " 'Tis not our custom to reveal the secrets of 
 our craft; but for thee I will even make excep- 
 tion. Know, then, that the draught which thou 
 wilt find most wholesome containeth first, the 
 gall of a wild sow dissolved in vinegar: second, 
 the ashes of a wolf's skull mingled with the fat 
 of a viper; and lastly, and most important of all, 
 a stone taken from the head of a sea eel, caught 
 at the time of the full moon. This stone hath 
 been powdered together with a portion of scor- 
 pion's legs, and hath been known to be effica- 
 cious when taken alone; but compounded as I 
 have described, maketh a nostrum of such ra;v 
 virtue, that without doubt the patient will speed- 
 ily recover. Should she not recover, it will bo 
 because of the folly of yonder woman." So say- 
 ing, he again bowed profoundly and swept from 
 the chamber, followed by his slave. 
 
 When he had finally gone, Tabitha came for-
 
 TITUS, A COMEADE OF THE CEOSS. 
 
 ward, and, throwing herself upon her knees be- 
 fore her mistress, sobbed out: 
 
 "Oh, send me not away! I will do anything, 
 if only I may stay. Surely I have not hurt the 
 child thou knowest that the wet linen soothed 
 her. And how can the skin of a snake be better 
 than cool, fresh water?" 
 
 " Hush, Tabitha!" said her mistress, the tears 
 running down her cheeks. " Thou shalt stay; 
 indeed I could not do without thee. But oh, my 
 husband! what dost thou think of the draught? 
 I cannot bear to give it to her. And that dread- 
 ful slimy skin!" 
 
 " I think this of it!" said Jairus fiercely, rising 
 and seizing the skin and the brazen vessel, and 
 tossing them both out of the window. " If she 
 must die, she shall die unpolluted with such 
 vileness! Go on with thy nursing, Tabitha, and 
 in thine own way. And do thou, Marissa, give 
 orders to the porter not to admit that man when 
 he cometh at evening. Stay! tell him to give 
 the fellow this gold." 
 
 But now the little patient, either because of 
 the fright and agitation, or because of the 
 progress of the disease, began to talk wildly. 
 Now she fancied that she was in Jerusalem, and 
 wandered on incoherently of the processions, 
 the Temple, the singing. Now she thought she 
 was riding her mule, and that Titus was gather- 
 ing great bunches of wild-flowers for her. Pres- 
 ently she half raised herself in the bed, and 
 shading her eyes with her hand, cried out joy- 
 ously : 
 
 "Oh, Titus! I see the Master! He is coming 
 through the meadow. See how the lilies bend, 
 as His garments pass over them! I shall speak 
 with Him at last!" 
 
 Then she fell back upon her pillow, her voice 
 again sinking into a low incoherent murmur. 
 
 But like a flash of light came the thought of 
 the great Healer to the despairing mother. Ris- 
 ing, she crossed the room to the window, before 
 which stood her husband, his head bowed upon 
 his breast, and laying her hand upon his arm, 
 she half whispered: " My husband, in our ter- 
 ror we had forgotten the Nazarene; could He not 
 heal our child?" 
 
 Jairus started and turned toward his wife, a 
 gleam of something like hope in his eyes. 
 
 "True!" he said. "We had most strangely 
 forgotten. I believe that He, and He alone, can 
 help us now. I will go at once, and make in- 
 quiries concerning Him. Benoni is even now 
 waiting outside for orders." 
 
 Titus was sitting motionless by the side of the 
 fountain, his eyes fixed upon the door of the 
 inner court. He had been there for hours, wait- 
 ing for some one to come out. When, therefore, 
 
 Benoni issued forth, prepared to do his master's 
 bidding, Titus sprang forward to meet him. 
 
 " How doth our little lady fare?" he asked. 
 
 "Alas! I fear that she groweth worse. She 
 will die, unless she hath help, and that quickly. 
 I am going forth to seek the Nazarene. We 
 hope ' 
 
 " He is not here," said Titus in a tone of dull 
 despair. " This morning, \vhen first I heard of 
 her sickness, I sought Stephen, my brother for 
 he always knoweth the best thing to do and he 
 said at once, ' Let us seek the Master.' And we 
 sought far and wide, and found at last that He 
 had taken shipping yesterday to go to the other 
 side of the lake. It may be that He hath gone 
 away into Samaria, or even back to Jerusalem. 
 I know not how we could find Him." 
 
 Benoni looked grave. But at length he said: 
 " I must go forth, even as I was bidden; it may 
 be that He hath returned since the morning." 
 
 " Go if thou wilt," said Titus wearily. " But 
 Stephen was to keep watch, and bring me word 
 if He should return, he will not fail to do so." 
 
 " I also must go," said Benoni. 
 
 But he returned within an hour, and his gravo 
 countenance showed that he had failed in his 
 mission. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 LOWLY the hours dragged 
 by. Night came on, and, 
 as slowly, wore away. 
 Still Titus watched and 
 waited for some word 
 from Stephen, while 
 within the sick-room 
 the watchers, with de- 
 spairing hearts, saw the 
 steady and relentless 
 approach of the dread destroyer. 
 
 The child lay motionless now, her eyes half 
 opened and glassy; but for the sound of her 
 difficult breathing which filled the chamber, they 
 would have thought her dead. The mother had 
 thrown herself on her knees at the foot of tho 
 bed, her face hidden in the draperies. She had 
 been praying at intervals all night, the words of 
 the Master in her thoughts: " God is more will- 
 ing to give good gifts to His children, than are 
 ye to give good things to your children " And 
 now her heart was full of bitterness. " I have 
 prayed, and God hath not heard me. My child 
 is dying. The Master hath healed scores of 
 worthless beggars, but now that my pure, inno- 
 cent child is suffering. He will not come. If He 
 were the Christ, woiild He not know of this?" 
 And over and over again, the cruel thoughts re-
 
 TITUS, A COMEADE OF THE CEOSS. 
 
 35 
 
 peated themselves, till her brain was half mad 
 with pain. 
 
 At length she arose, and going swiftly toward 
 her husband, who was sitting motionless watch- 
 ing the child's face, she said: 
 
 " Wilt thou not go forth and search for the 
 Nazarene? Do not wait! It may be that He 
 hath come even now." 
 
 Jairus rose, and without a word left the room. 
 It was morning now, and the bright sunlight 
 struck painfully on his throbbing eyeballs. 
 
 Outside on the terrace, the faithful Benoni was 
 pacing up and down. When he heard his mas- 
 ter's step, he sprang forward, but the question 
 died on his lips as he saw his face. 
 
 " Has anything been heard of the Nazarene?" 
 asked Jairus. 
 
 " Nothing, my lord," answered the man mourn- 
 fully. " I have been out many times, and the 
 lad Titus also." 
 
 " I am going now. It may be that I shall find 
 Him," said Jairus slowly. " Do thou remain 
 here within call. I will take the lad with me." 
 
 Titus had just made one of his excursions into 
 the street, and was about to return sorrowfully 
 for the twentieth time, when he heard a noise 
 as of light, rapid footfalls on the stone pave- 
 ment. Some one was coming! He stood still 
 and listened. In another moment Stephen ap- 
 proached the gate, running at full speed. When 
 he saw Titus, he cried out joyfully: 
 
 " He has come!" 
 
 Titus did not stop to hear more, but, calling 
 to Stephen to wait, ran back through the court 
 into the garden, and was about to knock boldly 
 on the door which led to the inner court, when 
 it suddenly opened and Jairus himself came 
 out. 
 
 " The Healer hath come!" cried Titus ex- 
 citedly, without waiting for his master to speak. 
 " My brother hath but just brought word. He 
 is waiting outside and can tell where He is to be 
 found. Shall I go for thee?" 
 
 " No, lad," said Jairus, " I will go for myself; 
 but thou mayst attend me." 
 
 The two passed quickly into the street, where 
 they found Stephen waiting. 
 
 " Come this way!" he said. " He had but just 
 lauded outside the city, and was approaching 
 the eastern gate when I heard of it." 
 
 All three hurried on in silence, Jairus slightly 
 in advance of the two lads, as though he would 
 outstrip them. Never had the way seemed so 
 long. Streets, squares, alleys, mansions and 
 hovels, amphitheatre and synagogue they were 
 all alike to him now. He had neither eaten nor 
 slept for more than twenty-four hours; and 
 things loomed up huge and horrible through a 
 mist of pain. At last they reached the eastern 
 gate. 
 
 " Hath the Nazarene passed this way yet?" 
 he asked the gate-keeper hoarsely. 
 
 " No," said the man. " He hath stopped yon- 
 der to talk to the people, who already throng 
 Him, though He hath but just landed." He 
 pointed eastward as he spoke, and the three 
 hurried on toward a little rise in the ground, 
 which was crowded with people. 
 
 They presently reached the outskirts of this 
 throng and could see the face of the Master 
 Himself, as He stood upon an elevation in the 
 midst. 
 
 " In God's name, let me pass, good people!" 
 cried Jairus. " I must speak with the Master!" 
 
 The crowd gave way respectfully, for many 
 of them recognized the speaker, and all saw that 
 he was in deep trouble. And now he has fallen 
 at the feet of the Master, and is crying out: 
 
 "Jesus, thou Son of God, I beseech thee to 
 hear me! My little daughter lieth at the point 
 of death; I pray thee come and lay thy hands 
 upon her, that she may: be healed; and she shall 
 live." 
 
 Immediately Jesus put forth His' hand and 
 raised him up, and they began to move toward 
 the city gate; and with them, all the multitude, 
 which was constantly increasing, as one and an- 
 other, scenting some new excitement, joined it. 
 
 Their progress was necessarily slow now, for 
 the crowd was surging on all sides of them. 
 Presently they stopped altogether, for Jesus was 
 standing still in the midst. Turning, He said: 
 
 "Who touched me?" 
 
 At first no one answered, for all were aston- 
 ished at the question. Then one of His disciples, 
 Peter by name, said: 
 
 " Master, the multitude throng thee and press 
 thee; and sayest thou, Who touched me?" 
 
 But Jesus answered: " Somebody hath 
 touched me; for I perceive that power hath gone 
 out of me." 
 
 As He spoke, He fixed His eyes upon a poorly- 
 dressed woman who stood near. When she saw 
 that He was looking at her, she trembled, and 
 coming forward, fell down before Him, and 
 sobbed out: 
 
 " Oh, Master! I beseech thee to forgive me! 
 I have been in misery for twelve years by reason 
 of an incurable disease, and have suffered many 
 things of many physicians. I have spent all that 
 I had, and was nothing bettered, but always 
 made worse. And I thought in my heart, that 
 if I could but touch the hem of thy garment, ( 
 should be healed. And it was so, for no sooner 
 had I touched, than I was made whole." 
 
 When Jesus heard this, He put forth His hand 
 and raised her up, saying: 
 
 " Daughter, be of good courage; thy faith hath 
 made thee whole. Go in peace, and be healed 
 of thy scourge."
 
 T1W& A COMKADE OF THE CROSS. 
 
 While He was yet speaking to the woman, 
 .Tairus, who had been waiting in an agony of 
 impatience, saw Benoni approaching. And 
 Benoni, when he spied his master, rent his 
 clothes with a loud cry of grief. 
 
 "Alas! my lord," he said, "thy daughter is 
 dead. Trouble not the Master any further." 
 
 The face of Jairus blanched to a ghastly pal- 
 lor when he heard these words, and he would 
 have fallen to the earth, had it not been for 
 the quick hand of the Master. 
 
 " Be not afraid!" He said to him gently. 
 " Only believe!" And turning, He spoke authori- 
 tatively to the crowd, forbidding them to come 
 any further. 
 
 Then they again went on; Jesus with three of 
 His disciples and Jairus; the two lads, with 
 Benoni, following at a little distance. 
 
 " What can the Healer do now to help?" mut- 
 tered Titus bitterly. " But for the woman, we 
 might have been in time." 
 
 " The little one breathed her last just after 
 the master left the house," said Benoni sadly. 
 
 " But didst thou hear what He said to the 
 father of the child?" said Stephen. " ' Pear not. 
 Only believe'! He will do something to help 
 thou wilt see." 
 
 " But what can He do, now?" repeated Titus. 
 
 " He can help them to bear the will of our 
 Father which is in heaven," said Stephen softly. 
 
 By this time they had come to the home of 
 Jairus; and entering in after the others, they 
 found the court of the household almost de- 
 serted. Passing through into the garden court, 
 they could hear the piercing wails of the women 
 from the death-chamber, for the door leading to 
 the inner court stood wide open. The garden it- 
 self was filled with excited women, wailing and 
 gesticulating, while the men with rent garments 
 were weeping aloud, and strewing ashes* upon 
 their heads and beards in token of their 
 grief. 
 
 Within, sat the mother by the bedside of her 
 dead child for she had resisted the well-meant 
 efforts of her women to take her away her 
 wide, tearless eyes fixed upon the waxen beauty 
 of the face upon the pillow. Amid all the wail- 
 ing and tumult she was stonily silent. 
 
 " Soon she will be forever hidden from me," 
 she was thinking. " I must not weep now, while 
 she is sleeping so quietly." 
 
 Presently she became dimly aware of another 
 Presence in the room, and of a deep authorita- 
 tive voice. What was it that He was saying? 
 " Why make ye this ado, and weep? The damsel 
 is not dead, but sleepeth." 
 
 And the strident wailing ceased; and there 
 was a blessed stillness in her tortured ears. 
 
 *Strewing ashes upon the forehead and breast, and rend- 
 ing the garments, were signs of grief and mourning. 
 
 Not dead! Sleeping! She started to her feet, 
 and leaning over the little form, listened breath- 
 lessly. Alas! she slept indeed, but it was the 
 chill and pulseless sleep which would know no 
 waking. She raised her eyes, dim with anguish, 
 to His face. 
 
 " Thou knowest that she is dead, Master," 
 were the words which shaped themselves on her 
 lips; but they were never uttered. Something 
 in those fathomless eyes forbade them. 
 
 And standing by the bedside, Jesus took the 
 little icy hand in His, and said: 
 
 " My child, I say unto thee, arise!" 
 
 And at the words, lo! a rosy flush swept over 
 the marble beauty of the face, the long lashes 
 trembled, and the eyes but lately closed for 
 their long, long sleep flashed wide open, bright 
 with joy and health. They fixed themselves 
 upon the Master's face, and a smile slow and 
 sweet dawned in their starry depths. 
 
 " 'Tis thou at last!" she said softly. "I have 
 been dreaming of thee." 
 
 Who could describe the scene which followed! 
 the happiness, the gratitude, the well-nigh de- 
 lirious revulsion from the depths of a grief so 
 profound, to that of a joy so transcendent. 
 
 The child gazed at her parents in solemn won- 
 der, as they fell at the Master's feet, covering 
 them with tears and kisses. She had slept; she 
 had dreamed; she had awakened. But what 
 meant this strange weeping, this tumult in the 
 garden outside? Was she dreaming still? 
 
 The Master, seeing her look, and divining her 
 thoughts, spoke to the mother, His words recall- 
 ing her instantly to herself: 
 
 " The child is an hungered; wilt thou not give 
 her to eat?" 
 
 Then charging them straitly that they should 
 not noise the thing abroad, He left them alone 
 with their joy. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 N one of the 
 green and 
 pleasant soli- 
 tudes near the head 
 of the lake, a group 
 of men, strangelv 
 at variance with 
 the peaceful beauty 
 of their surround- 
 ings, sat, or sprawled at full length, around a 
 small fire. There were ten or a dozen of them, 
 great hulking fellows, low-browed, swarthy
 
 TITUS, A COMEADE OF THE CEOSS. 
 
 37 
 
 with wind and weather, and disfigured with 
 the scars of many a sinister combat. They 
 were engaged for the moment in the peaceable 
 occupation of broiling some fish, while on the 
 grass near by, lay several half-emptied wine- 
 skins. 
 
 " And so the lad hath given thee the slip, 
 Dumachus? 'Twere a pity; he hath the making 
 of a bold fellow in him," said one of the men, 
 leaning forward to heap fresh fuel on the fire. 
 " Where didst thou get him, anyway? He is of 
 no kin to thee." 
 
 " He is my son," said Dumachus sullenly. 
 
 "7 am He, and these be my 
 
 " Come, come now, comrade! AVhy take the 
 trouble to lie to us about a trifle like that? If 
 thou hast stolen him from some rich Jew, why 
 not demand a ransom for his return? Men are 
 plentier than gold nowadays." 
 
 Dumachus made no answer for a moment, 
 then said sneeringly: 
 
 " And thou, my good friend, wouldst make all 
 due arrangements in the matter, and share the 
 gold perhaps?" 
 
 " That would I!" said the other, with a great 
 laugh. " Come, tell us the man's name." 
 
 " Fool!" hissed Dumachus. " If I had chosen 
 to restore the boy, as thou sayest, would I not 
 have done it years ago? I love my revenge bet- 
 ter than the yellowest gold ever coined. He 
 shall not escape me, and when the time is ripe I 
 shall" Here he stopped abruptly, while so 
 hideous an expression overspread his counten- 
 ance that even his guilt-hardened companions 
 stared at him in momentary wonder. 
 
 " I envy not the lad his future, with such a 
 
 guardian as thou art," said the first speaker, 
 shrugging his shoulders. " I believe there is not 
 another such brute in Galilee! Thou wilt be 
 crucified yet, my worshipful chief!" 
 
 But he had his hand on the haft of the short 
 two-edged knife in his belt, as he spoke, and 
 Dumachus, who had started up at the words, 
 sank back again, muttering threats and curses 
 under his breath. 
 
 " Come!" said another. " Hast thou not had 
 blood enough, that thou must knive each other, 
 now we are at rest? Let us eat!" And the 
 speaker helped himself to one of the fish which 
 were sizzling on the 
 coals. 
 
 The others followed 
 his example, and soon 
 all were eating and 
 drinking, the rude feast 
 being enlivened with 
 snatches of coarse song, 
 and bursts of coarser 
 laughter. Presently one 
 of the men stopped, 
 with a morsel half way 
 to his mouth. 
 
 " Hist! I hear some 
 one coming!" he ex- 
 claimed. 
 
 Instantly all were on 
 their feet; and one, 
 creeping lightly to the 
 verge of a little de- 
 clivity fringed with 
 bushes, peered out cau- 
 tiously. 
 
 In a moment he re- 
 turned. 
 
 " 'Tis the Nazarene Rabbi with His band; they 
 have just landed on the beach below." 
 
 " What can they be doing here, think you?" 
 whispered another. " Shall we?" And he 
 drew his glittering knife with a significant ges- 
 ture. 
 
 "No, fool!" snarled Dumachus. "They have 
 no booty. Besides," he added, " the Man may 
 be useful to us. Thou knowest that He hath a 
 great following already, and greater every day. 
 With Him for king, we could make ourselves 
 masters of the country. He hath magic powers; 
 and could, from the grass of the field, make 
 swords enough to arm every man who should 
 join us. The Romans themselves fear Him!" 
 
 " They say," said another, " that He hath 
 made a compact with Beelzebub himself, and 
 that is why He hath such marvelous powers. I 
 heard a Rabbi from Jerusalem explaining the 
 matter to a multitude who were marveling be- 
 cause He had healed one of their number from 
 a blind and deaf spirit."
 
 38 
 
 TITUS, A COMEADE OF THE CROSS. 
 
 " Well, for my part, I care not to whom He 
 hath allied himself. I am ready for anything 
 wherein is a prospect of plunder," exclaimed 
 a third. " But what causeth the tumult which 
 I hear? Stay! I will see in a moment." And 
 scrambling up a tall tree which grew near, he 
 presently called down to his companions below: 
 " "Pis a wondrous sight! There be thousands 
 upon thousands of men, with women and chil- 
 dren, both riding upon beasts, and walking, 
 and all coming this way!" 
 
 " They are seeking the Man yonder," said Du- 
 machus, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. 
 " Now thou seest that I spoke truly! Let us wait 
 here, and see what shall follow. To-day the 
 time may be ripe for action." 
 
 Even as he spoke, a man broke through the 
 bushes near at hand. He half started back in 
 dismay, when his eye fell upon the savage 
 group; but regaining his confidence in the knowl- 
 edge that the rest of his company was close 
 at hand, he advanced and called out in a loud 
 voice: 
 
 " Have any of you knowledge of the where- 
 abouts of the Man who is called Jesus of Naza- 
 reth?" 
 
 " I am He," said Dumachus mockingly, " and 
 these be my disciples. What dost thou require 
 of us?" 
 
 The man stared; while the others burst into a 
 great roar of laughter at his discomfiture. 
 
 "The Nazarene is yonder on the hilil" roared 
 Dumachus finally, seeing that he was about to 
 run. 
 
 The man glanced upward, and then cried out 
 joyfully to those below, " He is here! Come this 
 way!" 
 
 In a moment two three a dozen men had 
 pushed through the bushes, and with glad cries 
 pressed up the hill. These were quickly fol- 
 lowed by an indiscriminate throng of men, 
 women, and children all hurrying pushing- 
 struggling upward. Dumachus and his men 
 joined the multitude, shouting lustily for the 
 great Healer as they maliciously trampled down 
 some of the weaker ones in the throng. 
 
 Meanwhile Jesus, with His chosen followers, 
 was resting quietly in a little nook of the moun- 
 tain slope. Faint, and exhausted with uninter- 
 rupted toil and excitement, they had sought this 
 peaceful solitude for a little time of rest. As 
 the first sound of the approaching multitude 
 reached their ears, Peter was on his feet in an 
 instant, and springing to the top of a high rock, 
 he shaded his eyes with his hand, and looked off 
 in the direction from which the noise came. 
 
 " What is it? What seest thou?" cried half a 
 dozen voices anxiously. 
 
 Peter scrambled down from his lofty perch 
 without replying, and approaching the Master. 
 
 who sat a little apart from the others, His eyes 
 fixed peacefully on the wide landscape, he 
 said: 
 
 " Master, I see a great multitude approaching. 
 They seek thee. 'Shall we not escape them 
 while yet there is time? We can withdraw 
 further up the mountain, or take to our boats 
 again." 
 
 Jesus made no answer, but rising, moved to- 
 ward the edge of the slope, and looked down. 
 The noise was louder now, and floated up to 
 Him in a confused roaring like to the sound of 
 the sea. Already the bright colors of the moving 
 masses could be seen through the green foliage; 
 in another moment the throng would be upon 
 them. He sighed deeply, and murmured with a 
 look of divine compassion: 
 
 " They are as sheep having no shepherd!" 
 
 " Master, thou art sorely in need of rest; wilt 
 thou not come?" again urged Peter. 
 
 But even as he spoke, the crest of the first 
 wave of that ocean of wretched humanity broke 
 sobbing at their feet. 
 
 The hours that followed w r ere crowded, as 
 were always His hours upon earth. Verily, " He 
 had a work to perform, and how was He strait- 
 ened till He should perform it." He healed those 
 that had need of healing; after that He taught 
 them many things concerning the kingdom of 
 God. 
 
 And now the day was far spent, and the shad- 
 ows were lengthening upon the mountains. Still 
 the people lingefed, listening to His words, while 
 only the fitful cry of a tired or hungry child 
 broke the hush. 
 
 The disciples, who had been holding a whis- 
 pered consultation, now came to Him; and one 
 of them, who was called Philip, said: 
 
 " Master, this is a desert place, and it is 
 already late; wilt thou not send the people away, 
 that they may go into the country round about 
 and buy themselves bread? for they have noth- 
 ing to eat." 
 
 And He said: " Give ye them to eat." 
 
 " Two hundred pennyworth of bread would 
 not be sufficient, that every one of them might 
 take a little. How then can we give them to 
 eat?" answered Philip. 
 
 " How many loaves have ye? Go and see." 
 said the Master. 
 
 " I will go," said Andrew. Presently he re- 
 turned. " There is a lad here, which hath five 
 barley loaves and two small fishes; but what 
 are they among so many!" 
 
 " Make the people to sit down on the grass by 
 companies," was the answer. 
 
 But what of Dumachus and his fellows, on this 
 memorable afternoon? Having crowded them-
 
 TITUS, A COMEADE OF TEE CEOSS. 
 
 39 
 
 selves, by means of brute force, into a place 
 where they could both see and hear to the best 
 advantage, they had stared with open mouths 
 and many a muttered oath, as the Master healed 
 the sick and injured which were brought unto 
 Him. But when He began to talk to the people, 
 one by one they had slipped away save Gestas, 
 He, the day being warm, and himself very 
 comfortable as he lounged back against a tree, 
 had sunken into a doze, and from a doze had 
 passed into a heavy slumber; and as the Master 
 spake the words of eternal life, he sat with head 
 sunken upon his breast. His ears were heavy 
 and he did not hear. 
 
 " What is He going to do now?" was the ques- 
 tion which flew from mouth to mouth, when the 
 multitude were bidden by the disciples to sit 
 down by hundreds, and by fifties. Every eye 
 was fastened upon Him, as He took the five 
 loaves and the two fishes; and as He looked up 
 to heaven and blessed them, and began to break 
 them into fragments to give to the disciples for 
 distribution, the wonder grew. Awe-stricken 
 they watched. Behold! under those gracious 
 hands the loaves multiplied themselves! Again, 
 and yet ag^ain, and many times over, the twelve 
 returned to Him for fresh supplies, till at last 
 all of the five thousand men, together with the 
 women and children, had been fully satisfied. 
 
 After all had eaten, the Master gave command 
 that the remnants of the feast should be gath- 
 ered up, that nothing might be lost. And they 
 took up of the fragments that remained, twelve 
 baskets full. 
 
 Duniachus and his followers had eaten also. 
 " Thou art right," said one of them, who was 
 called Gaius. " This is the man for our king; if 
 He can make for us barley loaves and broiled 
 fish, could He not give us honey and wine in 
 abundance, and other good things also? Let us 
 even now crown Him!" 
 
 And the Jews, moreover, which saw it, said, 
 " This is, of a truth, that prophet which should 
 come into the world; for, behold, He hath fed 
 us in the wilderness, even as Moses fed our 
 fathers." 
 
 But He knew their thoughts; and directing His 
 disciples to get into the boat and go unto Beth- 
 saida, which was on the other side of the lake, 
 He commanded the people that they should de- 
 part quietly, and go each man to his own house. 
 Then He, Himself, went alone up into the mount- 
 ain to pray. 
 
 Now while some of the people obeyed Him, 
 and departed, even as He had bidden them, 
 many lingered, hoping that He would presently 
 come again into their midst, for they had seen 
 the disciples go away in the boat, and knew that 
 He was not with them. And as they waited, the 
 wonder and excitement grew apace, till at 
 
 length, Dumachus, seeing the temper of their 
 minds, sprang upon a lofty rock, and thus ad- 
 dressed the throng: 
 
 "Galileans!" he shouted, "hear me! Thou 
 hast seen how this Man hath been able to create 
 before our very eyes, and from nothing visible, 
 an abundance of food for this great multitude. 
 If He is able to do this, think ye not that from 
 the grass of this place He could presently make 
 swords enough to arm every man of us? Let us 
 make Him our king! Then will we sweep down 
 from the mountains, gathering in the people 
 from every town, and city, and village. Nothing 
 can stand before us! The Romans shall flee! 
 Their rich palaces shall be a prey unto us! Hail 
 to the Nazarene! Hail! Hail to the Nazarene! 
 Hail to the King!" 
 
 When the people heard this, there arose a 
 mighty cry, which rang out over the waters of 
 the lake, and rolled back to the mountains, re- 
 verberating in thunderous echoes to the very 
 stars. 
 
 To a solitary figure, far above on the mountain 
 heights, that cry brought the old, subtle temp- 
 tation of the wilderness. The kingdoms of the 
 world and the glory of them! A throne and not 
 a cross! But the victory had been won, once 
 and forever. He saw, in the sure light of eter- 
 nity, His earthly road, and it led to Calvary. 
 
 " Now it was dark, and the ship was in the 
 midst of the sea, and He alone on the land. And 
 the sea arose by reason of a great wind that 
 blew. And He saw them toiling in rowing; for 
 the wind was contrary; and about the fourth 
 watch of the night He cometh unto them walk- 
 ing upon the sea, and would have passed them 
 by. But when they saw Him walking upon the 
 sea, they supposed it had been a spirit, and cried 
 out; for they all saw Him and were troubled. 
 And immediately He spoke and said unto them, 
 Be of good cheer; it is I; be not afraid. And 
 Peter answered Him and said, Lord, if it be 
 thou, bid me come unto thee on the water. And 
 He said, Come. And when Peter was come 
 down out of the ship, he walked upon the water 
 to go to Jesus. But when he saw the wind 
 boisterous, he was afraid; and beginning to 
 sink, he cried, saying, Lord, save me! And im- 
 mediately Jesus stretched forth His hand and 
 caught him, and said unto him, Oh, thou of 
 little faith! wherefore didst thou doubt? And 
 when they were come into the ship, the wind 
 ceased. Then they that were in the ship came 
 and worshiped Him, saying, Of a truth, thou art 
 the Son of God!"
 
 40 
 
 TITUS, A COMRADE OF THE CROSS. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 TELL thee that He is not to be 
 found upon the mountain." The 
 speaker was Dumachus, and he 
 was addressing a motley crowd 
 of Galileans. " My men know 
 every inch of the region here- 
 abouts, and they have made 
 thorough search." 
 
 " There was no boat, so that He could have 
 gotten away by the lake," said another. " He 
 must have gone over the mountain, and de- 
 scended upon the other side; in that case we 
 cannot find Him, for the present. It may be that 
 He will stop in the villages; 'tis His wont." 
 
 " Let us go back to Capernaum, for it is there 
 His disciples dwell; He will be there sooner or 
 later," suggested a third. 
 
 And seeing drawn up on the beach below, 
 some great barges from Tiberias, which had 
 been driven out of their course by the storm of 
 the night before, as many as were able crowded 
 into them, and a few hours later landed in 
 Capernaum. 
 
 As they made their way up into the city, they 
 perceived that there was a great noise and con- 
 fusion, people hurrying in crowds through the 
 narrow streets, or gathered in dense throngs in 
 the market-places. 
 
 "What is the ado, neighbors?" shouted Du- 
 machus, as they paused near one of these knots 
 of people. 
 
 " We have just landed, and are seeking the 
 Miracle- worker; dost know His whereabouts?" 
 
 Two or three had turned at the sound of his 
 voice, and now one answered eagerly: "The 
 Nazarene is here. He came this morning, and 
 hath wrought many signs and wonders in our 
 midst. For as He passed through the villages 
 of the plain, people brought out their sick and 
 laid them in the streets that they might touch 
 the border of His garments; and as many as 
 touched were made whole. Afterward He came 
 to Capernaum, and the whole country-side hath 
 followed Him thither. Is not this Man He that 
 should save Israel?" 
 
 " He can assuredly work wonders; and why 
 not to-day wonders greater than any we have 
 yet seen?" answered Dumachus, cunningly. 
 " Let us seek Him, and see if He will not pres- 
 ently give us some sign that shall be greater 
 than the healing of these sick folk. Let Him 
 give us an abundance of gold and treasure; 
 and let Him take these fine houses and lands 
 from the rich, and give them to us, who are His 
 servants. Then shall we delight ourselves in 
 rivers of wine; and eat, and drink, and satisfy 
 ourselves with pleasiires." 
 " If He be the Messiah, He will do* all this. 
 
 and much more," said the man. " It hath been 
 promised us by the prophets. Surely the time 
 hath come for Israel to claim her King; and 
 confusion of face shall be to all heathen who 
 would rule over us!" 
 
 "Amen! and Amen!" cried they that heard 
 him; and with a common impulse, all began to 
 run in the direction of the synagogue, for it was 
 one of the holy days of the week.* " We shall 
 doubtless find Him there!" they said, as they 
 hurried along. " Let us hasten, that we may 
 speak with Him!" 
 
 As they approached the place of worship, the 
 excitement grew more and more intense; it was 
 almost impossible to move in the dense throng. 
 The synagogue was already filled to its utmost 
 capacity, though the hour for service had not 
 yet come Scribes and Pharisees, Sadducees and 
 Doctors of the Law, publicans, fishermen and 
 laborers, with women and children and every 
 tongue employed with the one theme, Jesus of 
 Nazareth. 
 
 " He is coming! I see Him! Make room!" 
 arose from one and another of the multitude 
 outside, together with a vast uneasy murmur of 
 sound. 
 
 Dumachus had succeeded in elbowing himself 
 to a place just outside the door of the syna- 
 gogue through which the Master must pass to 
 enter; and now, when he saw Him ascending 
 the steps with His disciples, he thrust himself 
 forward rudely, saying, " Rabbi, when earnest 
 thou hither, and how? There was no boat for 
 thee to cross by." 
 
 Jesus looked at him; then turning, He glanced 
 at the multitude. Greed, vulgar curiosity, mean 
 self-interest, ambition, cruelty, hatred, unbelief 
 all this might have been seen by any keen- 
 eyed observer; but how, think you, looked the 
 multitude to the Reader of hearts? 
 
 Then He spoke slowly, decisively: "Verily, 
 verily, I say unto you, Ye seek me, not because 
 ye perceived the signs; but because ye did eat of 
 the loaves and were filled. Strive not for the 
 bread which perisheth, but for that bread which 
 shall abide unto life eternal, which the Son of 
 man shall give to you; for him hath God the 
 Father sealed." 
 
 Then from out of the throng came another 
 voice a clear young voice and the question was 
 one which the speaker had been pondering in 
 his heart for months: " What shall we do, that 
 we might work the works of God?" 
 
 And the Master saw the face of the questioner 
 among the sinister faces which surrounded it, 
 like a star in the darkness of night; he saw, and 
 
 *Services were held in the synagogue on Monday and 
 Thursday of each week, as the country people crme to 
 m;n-';et on those days. The local Sanhedrim also met 
 thuu.
 
 TITUS, A COM BADE OF THE CBOSS. 
 
 41 
 
 knew it for His own. And looking steadfastly 
 into the clear eyes lifted to His, He answered: 
 " This is the work of God, that ye believe on 
 Him whom He hath sent." 
 
 " What sign showest thou then," broke in the 
 brutal voice of Dumachus, " that we may see, 
 and believe thee? What dost thou work?" 
 
 And a turbaned Rabbi, who stood near, added 
 cunningly: " Our fathers did eat manna in the 
 desert; as it is written, He 
 gave them bread from heaven 
 to eat." 
 
 The Master made answer: 
 " Of a truth I tell you that 
 Moses gave you not bread from 
 heaven. But my Father giveth 
 you now the true bread from 
 heaven; for the bread of God 
 is He which cometh down from 
 heaven, and giveth life unto 
 the world." 
 
 " Like the benediction after 
 prayer " came again the clear 
 tones of the boy's voice: " Lord, 
 evermore give us this bread!" 
 
 Then the Master passed into 
 the sanctuary, and the solemn 
 hush within proclaimed that 
 the service had begun. 
 
 In obedience to the impera- 
 tive commands and gestures of 
 those in authority, the crowd 
 now drew back, somewhat, 
 from the entrance and ap- 
 proaches to the synagogue; and 
 as they did so, a clamor of 
 voices broke out. 
 
 " How doth He say that He 
 came down from heaven?" de- 
 manded one. " We know who 
 He is; He is Jesus the son of 
 Joseph, from Nazareth yoa- 
 der." 
 
 " He came down from heaven 
 no more than I did," cried an- 
 other. "I am a silversmith; . 
 and He is a carpenter, as I happen to know." 
 
 " Now are ye wise, good people!" said a 
 smooth-tongued emissary of the Sanhedrim. 
 " This Man hath not ceased to blaspheme God, 
 in that He maketh Himself equal with God; 
 and as for coming down from heaven, He hath 
 a devil and is mad." 
 
 " If He be not mad," one answered, " He at 
 least is not the Messiah, as we hoped; for He 
 hath not the ways of a king." 
 
 " 'Twere an evil heresy to so suppose Him," 
 said the Rabbi again. " Thou shouldst have 
 studied the Law and the Prophets, and have 
 listened to the words of those wiser than thou 
 
 art. This fellow is dangerous to the people, 
 in that He is in league with the prince of dark- 
 ness, and doth continually work iniquity." 
 
 " I can bear it no longer!" rang out a clear 
 voice. " Thou liest, and that foully, when thou 
 sayest such things of the Nazarene!" 
 
 Every one started and turned toward the 
 speaker. " Have thy say, lad!" shouted two or 
 three, delighted with the fresh excitement. 
 
 " Oh, father! have mercy!" 
 
 " Now shalt thou stand here and an- 
 swer the worthy Rabbi." And a dozen 
 hands lifted the boy to the top of a 
 st,one wall near at hand, so that he 
 was above them, and in sight of all. 
 
 He stood for a moment abashed; then the 
 words of the Rabbi coming back to him, he again 
 flushed red in his boyish indignation. 
 
 " Thou sayest that He hath a devil," he cried. 
 "Can a devil do such works as doth this Man? 
 For thou knowest that He hath healed the sick 
 and helpless; He hath opened the eyes of the 
 blind; He hath cleansed the lepers; and even 
 raised the dead to life! He hath done good, and 
 not evil, to all of us. And how canst thou say 
 that He worketh iniquity?" 
 
 " He doth blaspheme God; for He declareth 
 that He is the Son of God, and hath come down
 
 42 
 
 TITUS, A COMRADE OF THE CBOSS. 
 
 from heaven," answered the Rabbi angrily. 
 " Cease thy prating, foolish boy, ere I have thee 
 arrested for disturbing the peace!" 
 
 " Nay, good master! Let the lad have his say, 
 even as thou hast had thine; we will answer for 
 him!" cried half a dozen at once. 
 
 " Thou knowest Him not," said the boy. " He 
 came down from heaven; and He worketh even 
 as He is bidden by the Father, who dwells on 
 high." 
 
 " Then let Him give us a sign, and He shall 
 be our king!" shouted a man in the outskirts of 
 the crowd. 
 
 " Hath He not given you signs in abundance? 
 I am one of them! Behold, I was a cripple, and 
 He healed me with a word, so that I am as 
 straight and strong as any of you." 
 
 "Who art thou?" cried a rough voice. "By 
 all the gods! I believe it is my own boy, 
 Stephen! Here, let me come near, that I may 
 make sure." And the man began elbowing his 
 way toward the lad. 
 
 The boy had grown deathly pale; he stood 
 irresolute for a moment, then jumped down 
 from the wall, and advanced through the crowd, 
 which opened to let him pass. 
 
 " Thou art my boy, Stephen! And straight and 
 strong! Nay, but I can scarce believe it!" said 
 Dumachus, grasping the lad by the arm. " Now, 
 by all the powers of Olympus! I will make a 
 man of thee; for I like thy spirit! Come along 
 with me." 
 
 They walked along for a moment in silence; 
 then Dumachus broke out with a savage oath: 
 " Why dost thou not speak? Art thou not glad 
 to see thy father? Thy mother hath taught theo 
 to hate me; and I cared not as long as thou 
 wert a helpless cripple. But now thou shalt 
 know that thou hast a father, and must obey 
 him." 
 
 " My mother did not teach me to hate thee," 
 said Stephen in a low voice. 
 
 " Nay, thou dost whine like a woman! Speak 
 up, as thou didst but just now to that purse- 
 proud Rabbi; thou didst answer him boldly. 
 And so the Nazarene healed thee, did He? Tell 
 me how it was." 
 
 Stephen's face lighted up again at the men- 
 tion of the Master, and he poured forth his 
 story eagerly, almost forgetting his listener for 
 the moment 
 
 " So that was the way of it!" said Duma- 
 chus, running his fingers through his shaggy 
 locks. " Now the Nazarene, if He would do 
 that for thee, will do more; dost thou not think 
 it?" 
 
 " Oh, yes," cried Stephen joyfully, remember- 
 ing the look in the Master's eyes, as He an- 
 swered him from the synagogue steps. 
 
 " Then thou shalt ask Him for gold, Stephen, 
 
 lad; and we will buy us a vineyard and a house, 
 and live like the Romans." 
 
 " I think that He is very poor," said Stephen, 
 hesitatingly. " I should not like to ask Him for 
 gold." 
 
 " He can make it, boy. Did I not see Him 
 make out of five little loaves, and two small 
 fishes, food enough to glut five thousand? He 
 hath made a compact with the foul fiend, and 
 he helpeth Him to do these wonders." 
 
 Stephen started back in horror, and fixed his 
 eyes on his father's face. " I cannot talk with 
 thee. father, if thou sayest such things!" 
 
 " Cannot talk with me!" said Dumachus mock- 
 ingly. " And how wilt thou help thyself, my 
 fine fellow? But now shalt thou tell me where 
 I can find Titus." And his face darkened 
 ominously. "Answer! Dost thou know where 
 he is?" 
 
 " Yes, I know where he is but I shall not 
 tell thee." 
 
 "What!" roared Dumachus, grasping the boy 
 by the shoulder so roughly that he almost lost 
 his balance. " Dost thou dare to defy me! 
 thine own father!" 
 
 " Father!" said Stephen, fixing his steady 
 dark eyes on the man's face, " I would gladly 
 render thee my obedience, but when Titus came 
 back after being with thee and the men, he told 
 me that thou didst compel him to take part in 
 horrible crimes; in that thou didst him a great 
 wrong. He is safe now, and hath an honest 
 employment." 
 
 " An honest employment, hath he!" broke in 
 Dumachus, with a sneering laugh; then sud- 
 denly, with a savage look, he turned. " Thou 
 wert a cripple; and now thou art recovered, by 
 the diabolical arts of yonder fellow from Naz- 
 areth. But listen! if thou dost not presently 
 tell me where Titus is to be found, I will do that 
 to thee which will put thee beyond cure! Aye! 
 look about thee as thou wilt, thou canst not 
 escape me!" 
 
 Stephen had cast a furtive look around; and 
 realized, with horror, that his father had been 
 'so directing their steps during the conversation, 
 that they were now in a lonely spot outside the 
 city walls. 
 
 " Wilt thou tell me?" he continued, suddenly 
 dropping his threatening tone. " Then will we 
 be friends and comrades. I swear it. Thou art 
 no better than a baby; but thou shalt go with 
 me, and learn to be a man. Now what thinkest 
 thou of this?" and he drew from under his tunic 
 a gold chain of fine Etruscan workmanship. 
 " This shall be thine, and many other things 
 as well; for am I not chief, and art not thou 
 mine only son?" 
 
 "Thine only son!" echoed Stephen in sur- 
 prise, " Is not Titus"
 
 WTUS, A COMRADE OF THE CROSS. 
 
 47 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 OWARD the close of an early 
 spring day, two travelers were 
 toiling up the steep rocky path, 
 which led to the little mountain 
 village of Nazareth. The way 
 was rough and difficult, and tho 
 woman sighed painfully, as she 
 moved slowly onward: the boy, 
 hearing the long-drawn breath, 
 turned and looked anxiously at 
 her face, which gleamed white 
 in the waning light. 
 
 " Thou art weary, mother, too weary; we 
 should have stopped for the night in the village 
 below. Sit here, and rest awhile." 
 
 With a sigh of relief, the woman sank down 
 on the rough stone which the boy had covered 
 with his sheep-skin coat. " Yes," she said at 
 length, with another long-drawn breath, which 
 was almost a groan, "I am very tired; my 
 strength faileth me for toiling up these hills." 
 
 " Thou wilt feel better presently, when thou 
 hast had time to rest," said the boy tenderly. 
 " We have wandered too widely of late; it may 
 be that we can bide in yonder village till thou 
 art stronger. Is it not beautiful here! See the 
 hills, how green they are; and the flowers let 
 me gather some for thee while thou art resting." 
 The woman smiled patiently. " Dost thou 
 not need to rest, my Stephen? We have yet a 
 hard climb before us, to reach the town." 
 
 " I am never tired now, mother," said the 
 boy, gayly, springing up as he spoke. 
 
 The mother's eyes followed him fondly, as he 
 climbed a steep bank for some bright-hued 
 blossoms, which nodded temptingly from be- 
 tween the rocks. " Ah, the dear one!" she mur- 
 mured to herself. " He is almost a man now, 
 but he hath the heart of a loving child still." 
 
 " Look, mother!" said the lad as he laid a 
 great sheaf of blossoms in her lap. " Here are 
 roses pink, white and yellow; are they not 
 sweet? And cyclamen and mignonette too, and 
 these tiny yellow flowers, like little stars. In 
 the village yonder, thou seest that every house 
 hath its garden; from the high rock where I 
 gathered these pink roses, I could see the scarlet 
 blossoms of the pomegranate, and orange trees 
 as white as snow. Wouldst thou not like it to 
 live in such a spot? I can work hard now, and 
 surely I could earn enough to buy bread for the 
 two of us." After a pause, he added dreamily: 
 " Nazareth is where He lived; we shall see His 
 home." 
 
 " I think, my Stephen," said his mother pres- 
 ently, " that we must hasten on our way; for 
 the sun hath gone down an hour since, and tho 
 night will soon be upon us." 
 
 " Thou art right, mother," answered the boy, 
 springing up. " Let me help thee." 
 
 Half an hour more of hard climbing brought 
 the travelers to the edge of the village. Here, 
 where the water from a spring in the hillside 
 gushed forth with a musical tinkle into a stone 
 trough below, the woman stopped short. 
 
 " I can go no further," she said faintly, sinking 
 down on the grass. " I am ill." 
 
 " Oh, mother," cried Stephen, " we are almost 
 there now! Let me give thee some of this 
 water; it will revive thee." 
 
 But the woman made no reply. Her head 
 had fallen back against the grassy bank behind 
 her; and the boy, as he bent over her, saw with 
 terror that she was unconscious. 
 
 "What shall I do!" he cried aloud, wringing 
 his hands helplessly. " Mother, oh, mother!" 
 
 " She hath fainted," said a voice near him. 
 " Let me give her water." 
 
 He looked up, and saw standing at his side a 
 woman, bearing on her shoulder a water-pot. 
 This she hastily dipped into the fountain, then 
 stooping over the prostrate form, sprinkled the 
 white face with the fresh, cool water. 
 
 " There! She is reviving. She will soon be 
 herself again!" said the new-comer. " Fill thy 
 cup with the water, and give her to drink." 
 
 Stephen obeyed, and to his great joy his 
 mother sat up and looked about her; but almost 
 immediately she sank back again, moaning 
 faintly. 
 
 " Hast thou friends in the village?" asked the 
 woman, looking at the lad. 
 
 " Nay," said Stephen. " We were going to 
 the inn.* Is it far from here?" he added anx- 
 iously. 
 
 " 'Tis in the upper street; too far for her to 
 walk to-night," was the answer. " But my 
 house is near," pointing as she spoke, to where 
 a faint light twinkled through the dark foliage. 
 " If thou wilt help me to get her on to her feet, 
 a few steps will bring us to the door. Thou 
 shalt bide with me for the night." 
 
 " Thou art good," said Stephen gratefully, 
 " and I thank thee heartily." 
 
 Between them they helped the exhausted 
 Prisca up, and supported her tottering steps till 
 they reached the cottage, which was, as the 
 woman had said, close at hand. 
 
 " She sleeps, and will be better by morning," 
 said their hostess as she came from the little 
 bedchamber, where she had been ministering 
 to the wants of her guest, into the room where 
 Stephen was waiting. 
 
 He had had time to look about him, and saw 
 that, while the appointments of this home were 
 very humble, it was as daintily pure and neat 
 
 *A lodging place for travelers.
 
 48 
 
 T1TU8, A COMEADE OF THE CROSS. 
 
 as a flower. And now he looked more closely 
 at the woman herself. She was tall and of 
 noble proportions; and though past middle age. 
 her face was beautiful, with its clear, hazel 
 eyes, firm yet tender mouth, and waving red- 
 dish-brown hair, slightly tinged with gray. 
 
 " Thou too art weary," she continued, with a 
 smile which irradiated her face like sunshine. 
 " Thou must eat, then thou shalt sleep also.'' 
 So saying, she set be- 
 fore the boy a 
 wooden bowl con- 
 taining milk, and 
 some cakes of barley 
 bread. " Tell me," 
 she said, when the 
 boy had finished, 
 " how is it that ye 
 are traveling alon<s 
 and so far from 
 home? For thy 
 mother telleth me 
 that ye dwell in 
 Capernaum." 
 
 Thus encouraged. 
 The boy poured forth 
 the whole story, tell 
 ing at length the 
 wondrous tale of his 
 healing by the Naz- 
 arene. 
 
 " We had to go 
 away from Caper 
 naum, as thou seest," 
 
 he said. " And we came to Nazareth, be- 
 cause I wanted to see His home. I thought 
 
 been prudent with my wages; and have bought 
 a vineyard of mine own, whither I can retire 
 when old age shall overtake me." 
 
 The speaker was Benoni, and he was sitting 
 at ease on a bench in the garden, while Titus 
 stood before him respectfully. 
 
 The lad flushed with pleasure at these words, 
 but he made no reply, for he saw that the old 
 man had more to say. 
 
 Vieio of the city of Nazareth. 
 
 " I have an important commission for thoc\" 
 continued Benoni, " and I entrust it to thee by 
 
 perhaps we should find Him here. Dost thou special request from the most noble Jairus him- 
 
 know this Jesus?" 
 
 The woman's eyes filled with tears, yet again 
 a smile transfigured her face, kindling it to a 
 beauty almost divine. 
 
 " He is my Son," she said simply. " And this 
 is his home." 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 HOU hast won favor in the 
 sight of thy master, young 
 man; I will tell thee that. 
 As for myself, thou hast 
 been faithful in thy duties 
 above most that have come 
 under my authority, and I 
 am disposed to befriend thee. 
 I am waxing old now, and the 
 labors of mine office weigh 
 heavily upon me. If thou 
 dost continue to do well, and art discreet and 
 wise, I see no reason why in time thou shouldst 
 not become steward in my place. For I have 
 
 self for I do not deny that I should have se- 
 lected another to perform it. Not that I do not 
 trust thee, but that thou lackest wisdom, by 
 reason of thy youth. The commission is this: 
 that thou shouldst visit the vineyard which 
 lieth a little beyond Tiberias, carrying with thee 
 the moneys which shall be paid to the man 
 Caleb, whom thou wilt find in charge of the 
 vineyard. He will dispose of them according 
 to the directions which I have written herein, 
 and which thou shalt deliver to him together 
 with this bag. In the bag are the moneys 
 of which I spoke; thou must secure it to 
 thy person, and go heavily armed. I shall 
 place at thy disposal a fleet-footed mule, and 
 the journey can be made between now 
 and moonrise, if thou gettest speedily on thy 
 way." 
 
 " I shall be ready within half an hour," said 
 Titus briefly. " Thou wilt give me plain direc- 
 tions how to find the place?" he added. 
 
 " I will do more," said the old man, looking 
 thoughtful. " I will give thee Asa for company;
 
 TITTJS, A COMRADE OF THE CROSS. 
 
 49 
 
 he knoweth the way, for he hath been there 
 many times on the like errand." 
 
 " And when he went on errands of the like, 
 went he alone, or did another go with him?" 
 asked Titus. 
 
 " He went alone," replied the old man un- 
 guardedly. Then, seeing the angry flush on the 
 cheek of Titus, he added soothingly: "Thou 
 knowest that the country is infested with rob- 
 bers; surely it would be safer for two than for 
 one." 
 
 " If thou canst not trust me to go alone, I will 
 
 way, should we be unfortunate enough to fall 
 among thieves. I can imagine him with his 
 dignified corpulence in the grasp of such an one 
 as Dumachus." 
 
 " What sayest thou?" asked Benoni abstract- 
 edly. 
 
 Titus bit his lip. " 'Tis time for me to be off, 
 good Benoni," he said. " And if it please thee, 
 I would not be burdened with the company of 
 the worthy Asa," 
 
 " AVell, thou shalt have thy way in the matter; 
 and may Jehovah protect thee." 
 
 "Art thou refreshed, my pretty lad?"' 1 said one. 
 
 not go at all; let old Asa take the bag, and go 
 as heretofore." 
 
 " Nay, nay, lad! Now art thou in an un- 
 soenily temper; thou must bridle thy tongue 
 and thy temper if thou wouldst do well. Did I 
 not tell thee that I trusted thee? Nay, more 
 I love thee, lad, as if thou wert mine own son; 
 but something tells me that thou shouldst not 
 go forth alone to-day." 
 
 " But am I not strong? fit to meet robbers if 
 there be any?" demanded Titus, drawing him- 
 self up to his full height, and throwing back his 
 broad shoulders. " I know the ways of robbers 
 and their haunts better than thou thinkest, my 
 good Benoni," he added to himself; then aloud, 
 " The excellent Asa would actually be in the 
 
 "'Tis a pious wish, assuredly; and I will 
 back it up with my stout staff and a brace of 
 knives," said Titus, laughing. 
 
 But old Benoni shook his head. " 'Tis a pity 
 that thou art a Gentile, lad; thy words savor of 
 heathendom." 
 
 Half an hour later, the young man, mounted 
 on a strong and speedy mule, was clattering 
 out of the great courtyard; the money-bag 
 securely bound about his waist under his tunic, 
 his wallet well-stocked with lunch, and a couple 
 of formidable-looking knives thrust into his 
 belt. " I shall be back long before moonrise. 
 Fare thee well!" And he waved his hand at 
 Benoni, with a gay laugh at his anxious face. 
 
 The old man shook his head as he went back
 
 50 
 
 TITUS, A COMRADE OF THE CROSS. 
 
 into the house, and muttered to himself: " My 
 heart inisgiveth me in the matter; someone 
 should have gone with the lad." 
 
 In the meantime Titus had reached the gate of 
 the city, and was climbing the stony bridle path 
 which led to the hill road. It was a blithe 
 spring morning; the sunshine lay warm and 
 bright on fields and vineyards, green with that 
 vivid emerald tint seen in that country only in 
 spring. The roadsides were gay with blossoms, 
 pink, yellow and blue, over which floated great 
 butterflies living blossoms. Birds, busy with 
 nest-building, flitted hither and thither in hedges 
 and thickets, while overhead the lark " flooded 
 a thousand acres of sky with melody." 
 
 Titus, drew in long breaths of the fragrant 
 air, then throwing back his curly head, he too 
 began to sing lustily. Assuredly 'twere a 
 good thing to be alive and young, on such a 
 morning. 
 
 Towards noon, he began to leave behind the 
 regions of vineyards and cultivated fields alive 
 with busy peasants, and entered upon a com- 
 paratively unsettled and desolate tract of 
 country. Here the narrow road, or bridle track 
 for it was little more wound among rugged 
 hills, amid dense thickets of oleander, tamarisk 
 and wild olive trees. Titus knew the place well. 
 He was silent now and alert Presently he 
 stopped, and fastening the mule, crept cau- 
 tiously through the underbrush to a little open 
 space, which was perfectly concealed from the 
 roadway. Here a tiny spring, clear as crystal 
 and ice-cold, gushed out of the side of the hill, 
 trickled into a rocky basin beneath, then over- 
 flowing, lost itself among the flowers and 
 grasses, which grew lush and rank in this 
 favored spot. 
 
 Titus laid his ear to the ground and listened; 
 then he climbed a tall oak and looked out over 
 the forest. From his lofty perch, he could see 
 the road by which he had come, winding like a 
 narrow ribbon along the side hill; the fresh 
 green leaves dancing in the sunshine; glimpses 
 of blue water hundreds of feet below him; while 
 out and away, beyond the hills flecked with 
 shadows, lay Hermon like a snowy cloud 
 on the far horizon. He slid down the tree well 
 satisfied; and pushing through the branches, 
 seized the bridle of the mule. 
 
 " Thou shalt have water, and that the best 
 thou hast ever tasted!" he cried cheerily, slap- 
 ping the sleek neck of the animal; then having 
 attended to the wants of the beast, he dropped 
 down on the soft turf and began to refresh him- 
 self with the contents of his wallet. 
 
 The spot was deliciously cool and sweet, and 
 the silence broken only by the distant twitter 
 of birds, the trickling of the water, and the 
 steady munching of the mule, intent upon hin 
 
 noonday meal. Titus felt a soft drowsiness 
 stealing over him; he glanced sleepily at his 
 beast, and seeing that he had disposed of only 
 about half of his provender, he stretched him- 
 self out comfortably, and, pillowing his head 
 on his arm, fell fast asleep. 
 
 How long he slept he did not know, but he 
 awaked with a dim sense that something was 
 wrong. Moving uneasily, he opened his eyes; 
 then the full extent of his folly burst upon him. 
 He was bound securely hand and foot. Against 
 a tree trunk near by, lounged Dumachus, re- 
 garding him With a hideous leer of triumph, 
 while the rest of the band stood, or sprawled 
 at full length on the ground, around him. 
 
 His awakening was the signal for a burst of 
 loud laughter and mocking jeers. 
 
 "Art thou refreshed, rny pretty youth?" said 
 one. 
 
 And another: " In truth we did not think to 
 find thee here; but 'tis an old tryst, and well- 
 known to thee. Thou wert awaiting us, no 
 doubt." 
 
 Titus made an ineffectual struggle to free 
 himself from his bonds, glaring fiercely at his 
 captors as he did so. 
 
 " With thy mule and thy money-bag, thou art 
 quite a pretty prize," quoth Dumachus, grin- 
 ning, and shaking the bag which he held in his 
 hand, till the coins within clinked musically. 
 
 " And all the more welcome, since we have 
 had nothing but bad luck of late," growled an- 
 other. 
 
 " We must push on to Jerusalem without 
 further delay; if all goes well there, we shall 
 soon see an end of bad hick," said Dumachus. 
 " This," giving the bag another shake " will 
 serve us for the present." 
 
 "Shall I loose the lad?" asked Gaius, with 
 whom Titus had always been a prime favorite. 
 
 "Loose him? No!" roared Dumachus. "I 
 have a score to settle with him first. Some 
 time ago," he added, planting himself in front 
 of Titus, and gazing at him ferociously, " I had 
 occasion to scourge my son Stephen for disobe- 
 dience; whilst I was so scourging him, someone 
 stunned me with a blow, then bound me hand 
 and foot while I was helpless." 
 
 "Aye, 'twas handsomely done too!" broke in 
 Gaius with a huge laugh. " He lay there shriek- 
 ing like a demoniac, till I myself happened 
 along and loosed him. By my faith! he was so 
 securely bound, that he might have lain there 
 yet, had the dogs spared him." 
 
 " 'Twas the fate that thou didst intend for 
 Stephen," said Titus, boiling with indignation 
 at the remembrance. 
 
 " So thou wert the one who did it! I knew 
 it, thou dog of a Jew!" hissed Dumachus 
 
 Then, quite beside himself with rage s he
 
 TITUS, A COMEADE OF THE CBOSS. 
 
 51 
 
 hurled his Ions, two-edged knife at the helpless 
 boy. It barely missed his head, striking with a 
 dull thud the bole of a tree just behind him, 
 where it stuck fast, quivering with the force of 
 the blow. 
 
 "What dost thou mean, man!" cried Gaius, 
 starting forward. " Wouldst thou murder the 
 lad for a trifle like that? Thine own son too 
 as thou hast always declared." 
 
 " I tell thee he is not my son. He is an ac- 
 cursed Jew; and I hate him!" shrieked Durna- 
 chus. 
 
 " 'Tis no news to any of us," said Gaius, with 
 a short laugh. " But thou shalt not murder him, 
 for all that. What sayest thou? Shall I loose 
 him and let him go? Or shall we take him 
 with us to Jerusalem?" 
 
 " We will take him to Jerusalem." said Du- 
 machus sullenly, pulling his knife from the 
 trunk of the tree, and cutting the cords which 
 bound the lad's feet. " I shall ride the mule; 
 as for this fellow, let him try to escape me, and 
 I will kill him with my hands!" 
 
 The whole party was presently under way; 
 two of the men going ahead as scouts, Titus 
 walking with bound hands between two of the 
 others, while the remainder of the band, with 
 Dumachus riding comfortably on the mule in 
 their midst, brought up the rear. 
 
 Titus was too much wrapped up in his own 
 unhappy thoughts to pay any heed to Irs 
 companions. " Fool that I was," he thought, 
 "to sleep in that place of all others! But I 
 made so sure that they were nowhere about. 
 Why did I not take the other road? What will 
 Benoni think when I fail to come to-night? 
 when he finds that I never reached the vine- 
 yard with the money? If they had only taken 
 me after I had paid it!" And he groaned 
 aloud. 
 
 " Do the cords hurt thy wrists?" asked one 
 of the men kindly enough. 
 
 " No," said Titus shortly; then, with a gleam 
 of hope, " Thou wert always my friend, Gaius, 
 wilt thou not help me to escape?" 
 
 " Thou talkest like a fool, boy! Why dost 
 thou wish to escape from us? We are thy 
 friends; thou hast passed many a merry day 
 in our company ere now. Use thy wits to 
 placate our worthy chief yonder, and all will 
 yet be well with thee." 
 
 " Nay; that I cannot do," said Titus sullenly. 
 " He hates me; and for my part, I hate him. I 
 wish I had killed him the day he beat Stephen." 
 
 " The world might have spared him," said the 
 man, chuckling. " And I doftbt not, 'twould 
 have been better for him in the end." 
 
 After a pause, Titus turned to his companion 
 abruptly: "Canst thou tell me who I am? 
 Thou didst hear him twice call me a Jew." 
 
 "Now thou askest me something I fain would 
 know myself," replied the man thoughtfully. 
 " For I doubt not that a handsome sum would 
 be paid for thy return. I opine that thou wert 
 stolen from Jerusalem; for when I first fell in 
 with the worthy Dumachus, he had recently 
 come from Judea, and was a stranger in these 
 parts. Thou wert then about three years of 
 age; once in my presence thou didst strike 
 Dumachus, in a fit of puny rage, because he 
 called himself thy father." 
 
 Titus made no reply. " I am glad I am not 
 the son of yonder brute," he thought gloomily 
 to himself. "But whose son am I? He has 
 taught me to hate the Jews. I am a Je\v. 
 Stephen is not my brother; and mother is not 
 mother. She must hate me too, for she hath 
 known this thing, and kept it from me all these 
 long unhappy years." 
 
 It was night now; and lifting his eyes, he 
 saw the moon rising, large and yellow, behind 
 the dark masses of the hills. The hot tears 
 rose to his eyes. " 'Tis moonrise. Benoni is 
 expecting me now. I shall not come. They will 
 think me a thief!" 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 HE band of robbers, 
 with Titus always closely 
 guarded, pushed on as 
 rapidly as possible toward 
 Jerusalem, traveling chief- 
 ly at night by the light of 
 the moon, which was now 
 at its full. Daytimes they 
 skulked in thickets or ra- 
 vines, lying in wait for 
 their prey. Several unlucky travelers thus fell 
 into their clutches during the journey; these 
 were promptly stripped of their possessions, 
 their subsequent fate depending upon their be- 
 havior during the stripping process. If they 
 submitted quietly, they were allowed to go, 
 albeit half naked. But woe to the man who 
 dared to resist, or make any outcry! A dozen 
 ready knives quickly quieted him, the wicked 
 old saying, " Dead men tell no tales," being a 
 favorite maxim with Dumachus. 
 
 At dawn of the fourth day, they reached the 
 hills lying to the west of Jerusalem, and en- 
 camped in one of the narrow valleys for a few 
 hours of rest and refreshment. 
 
 " I shall go into the city alone," said Duma- 
 chus, after he had eaten. " The rest of you will 
 await me here. Let there be no disturbance 
 among you, lest we be foiled in our purpose ere 
 it be undertaken."
 
 52 
 
 TITUS, A COMRADE OF THE CROSS. 
 
 Then he drew Gaius aside, and talked with 
 him in a low tone for a few moments. Titus 
 felt sure that the conversation referred to him, 
 but he made no sign; he hoped in the excite- 
 ment which would shortly follow, to be able 
 to make his escape. His brain was already 
 teeming with vague, impossible plans to 
 seek out his parents if indeed they were to 
 be found in Jerusalem and make himself 
 known to them. How he was to do this he 
 did not know; but he was full of unreasoning 
 hope. 
 
 After some hours Dumachus returned. " All 
 is well," he announced shortly, but with an air 
 of triumph. Then after draining a cup of wine, 
 he threw himself down in the shade and slept 
 heavily. 
 
 The men conversed in low tones, scraps of 
 their conversation at times reaching the ears of 
 Titus. 
 
 " There be already above five hundred men 
 in the plot; 'tis sure to succeed." 
 
 " Will the attempt be made to-night?" 
 
 " Before the moon rises when 'tis dark." 
 
 " We shall force the Temple gates with ease. 
 'Tis the plan of Barabbas to tear down the 
 golden eagle* from the inner gate. Herod hath 
 set it up; 'tis an abomination in the eyes of the 
 Jews." 
 
 " What care we for the golden eagle, or for 
 the Jews! "Tis plunder we want!" 
 
 " Hist! Once inside the gates, man, 'twill go 
 hard with us if we cannot secure some of the 
 golden vessels with which the Temple is 
 crammed. Then there is the other." 
 
 Here they lowered their voices, so that Titus 
 lost what followed. Then one spoke a little 
 louder. 
 
 '"Tis there still?" 
 
 " Yes. Pilate hath not yet dared to put his 
 hands upon it; though the aqueduct must be 
 finished, and he hath not the means to do it." 
 
 " 'Tis a goodly sum?" 
 
 "A goodly sum! 'Tis a great treasure, man! 
 'Twill make us all rich for life. Our plan is to 
 get away with it in the confusion of the fight 
 and make for the sea; once there, we can escape 
 into Greece. After that a long life, and a 
 merry one!" 
 
 " 'Tis a plan worthy of our chief; hath Jesus 
 Barabbas any knowledge of it?" 
 
 " Not he! He is a devout Jew, the son of a 
 Rabbi, and thinketh only to rid the Temple of 
 the golden eagle, which, in his notion, dese- 
 crateth it. He is a turbulent fellow though, and 
 
 *The eagle was the emblem of Rome's authority. The 
 placing of this figure over the Temple gate was resented by 
 the Jews, not only because it was the emblem of Rome's 
 authority but because it was a graven image and its 
 presence a pollution to the Temple. 
 
 hath an unsavory reputation with the authori- 
 ties." 
 
 " All the more reason why he should have no 
 share in our plunder. We be reasonably un- 
 known in these parts, and can therefore hope 
 to get away. Let them take him and crucify 
 him; 'twill be the better for us." 
 
 " May Jove help us!" said Gestas devoutly. 
 " I vow a golden chain at every shrine in 
 Greece, if we be successful." 
 
 " I also!" shouted another. 
 
 Dumachus roused up at the sound, and re- 
 buking them savagely for their folly, called for 
 wine and food. 
 
 As he ate and drank, he now and then cast 
 a fierce look in the direction of Titus. The boy 
 paled, and clenched his hands tightly, for he 
 guessed his thoughts, or fancied that he did. 
 
 " What shall we do with the lad here?" asked 
 one of the men presently, observing these 
 glances. 
 
 " 'Tis in my mind" began Dumachus, fixing 
 his red eyes upon Titus with an evil smile. 
 
 But Gaius, thoroughly understanding his 
 chief, interrupted him hastily: "Taste this 
 wine, my Dumachus; thou wilt find it good and 
 sound. Hold thy cup, and let me fill for thee 
 what -thinkest thou of that?" 
 
 Dumachus drained the cup slowly, then held 
 it out to be replenished. " 'Tis a goodly vin- 
 tage; where got we it?" 
 
 " From the Samaritan wine-merchant, yester- 
 day," answered Gaius, filling the cup to the 
 brim. " We shall need every arm in our ven- 
 ture to-night," he continued. " There is none 
 bolder in a fight than the lad Titus here, as 
 thou knowest; dost remember how he fought 
 the giant Ethiopian single-handed last year, 
 when we so narrowly escaped being taken? 
 Aye, and downed him too! We shall have need 
 of him. What sayest thou, lad? Wilt thou fight 
 the Romans with us to-night?" 
 
 "That will I!" said Titus, trembling in his 
 anxiety. " Only give me that with which ro 
 fight." 
 
 Dumachus held out the cup to Gaius for the 
 fourth time. " I have a mind to leave him 
 here," he said slowly, " and to so leave him, 
 that he will not again escape me, nor again foil 
 me in my purposes." 
 
 " Nay, my good chief," said Gaius, laying a 
 warning hand on Titus' shoulder. " We can 
 scarce leave him with safety. I will take him 
 under my charge to-night; and let the fellow 
 dare try to escape me!" And he glared at Titus 
 with assumed ferocity. 
 
 " If we succeed in our venture, I care not what 
 becomes of the boy!" said Dumachus, who was 
 beginning to be merry with the wine, with 
 which Gaius still continued to ply him. " Let
 
 TITUS, A COMRADE OF THE CROSS. 
 
 him find Pi-isca the woman hath escaped me. 
 She can tell him of his parents. If we win to- 
 night, I shall be avenged of my wrong! Ha, 
 ha! But come! 'tis time we were away; we 
 must enter the city by twos and threes to 
 avoid suspicion. We will meet in the wine- 
 shop of Clopas, in the upper market. There we 
 shall find Barabbas, and there will the others 
 come as soon as it waxeth dark. Fill all around 
 and let us drink. What is left shall be poured 
 out as a libation to Mars;* may he, and all the 
 gods, help us!" 
 
 " Let them help us, I say! 'Tis a pious act 
 to seize the treasure from the God of the He- 
 
 " We have been betrayed!" 
 
 brews; our own gods shall profit by it!" cried 
 Gestas. 
 
 Dumachus now rose to his feet, and with 
 drunken solemnity poured out upon the ground 
 what was left in the wine-skin, calling loudly 
 upon all the heathen deities, for help in their 
 unholy enterprise. 
 
 The wine-shop of Clopas, in the upper market- 
 place, sent out a broad glow of cheery yellow 
 light into the darkness, as Titus, together with 
 Gaius, and another of the band called Joca, 
 paused near by to make sure of their bearings. 
 
 r Yonder is the place," said Joca. " 'Tis well 
 enough known to me. Many is the merry night 
 I have passed there in my youth." 
 
 *Mars, the god of war. It was customary among the 
 Greeks and Romans to offer libations to the heathen deities 
 before entering upon any important undertaking. 
 
 "Then thou art Jerusalem-born?" asked 
 Gaius. 
 
 " Jerusalem-born and bred," replied the other. 
 " My father was a silversmith and wrought 
 sacred vessels for the Temple use. 'Twas in 
 the shop of Clopas that. I first met Dumachus. 
 He was a handsome fellow in those days. 
 Something befell him I know not what; he fled 
 to Galilee, carrying a woman and a child with 
 him. The child was the lad here. Once in my 
 hearing the woman called him David. After- 
 ward he was known to us as Titus, but I doubt 
 not that David was his true name." 
 Titus was listening with all his ears, but he 
 said nothing, for he 
 hoped that the man 
 would speak further. 
 Gaius had armed him 
 with one of his own 
 knives. He could have 
 slipped away in the 
 darkness easily 
 enough, and was half- 
 minded to do so. 
 Then he reflected that 
 he might learn some- 
 thing more of his 
 mysterious birth and 
 parentage, if he 
 stayed; besides, he 
 had a strong curiosity 
 to see the much- 
 talked-of Bai-abba^; 
 and underneath all, 
 was an unconfessed 
 desire to share in the 
 exciting events which 
 were soon to follow. 
 
 " If I go now," he 
 argued further with 
 
 himself, " I shall have to find my way back to 
 Capernaum alone, and confess to Benoni that 
 he was right and I was wrong. Moreover, the 
 mule and the money are both gone, and how 
 could I replace them? I will, at all events, wait 
 for a few hours; something may happen to my 
 advantage." 
 
 By this time, they had entered the wine-shop, 
 and the opportunity for escape had, for the mo- 
 ment, passed. 
 
 " Yonder is Barabbas! He is even now speak- 
 ing with Dumachus," whispered Gaius. 
 
 Titus looked, and saw a man of giant stature, 
 whose bold features and quick, brilliant eyes 
 were in marked contrast to the bloated, brutal 
 face of Dumachus. Titus felt instantly drawn 
 to the man; and edging his way through the 
 crowd, managed to get near enough to hear 
 what was being said. 
 " He will not dare to restore it, once it is
 
 54 
 
 TITUS, A COMRADE OF THE CROSS. 
 
 torn from its place," Barabbas was saying in a 
 low-toned but powerful bass voice. " The symbol 
 of Roman supremacy hath long enough insulted 
 the house of our God. It shall be torn down, 
 and broken into pieces so small that no one 
 shall be able to put it together again. I myself 
 will cast the fragments into the courtyard of 
 the palace. I tell thee that Pilate is, at heart, a 
 coward. He feareth us. Did he not yield to us at 
 Csesarea ?* Did he not yield to us when lately he 
 would have seized the sacred treasure of the 
 Temple for his own purposes?" 
 
 "Thou speakest truly!" shouted half a hun- 
 dred voices. " Let us go forth, and tear the 
 accursed image** from its place!" 
 
 With a common impulse all rushed into the 
 street. Titus, who had managed to keep near 
 Barabbas, saw to his astonishment that the 
 square was crowded with men, their fierce, de- 
 termined looking faces revealed by the light of 
 flaming torches brandished here and there over 
 the heads of the throng. 
 
 A low, hoarse murmur ran through the as- 
 semblage, as they recognized their leader. Ba- 
 rabbas paused, and with a few short, decisive 
 words, explained the plan and method of at- 
 tack; then commanding that the torches should 
 be extinguished, all set forward at a rapid pace 
 toward the Temple, under cover of the darkness. 
 
 They had advanced no great distance, when 
 the clang of shields reached them, and a load 
 voice was heard demanding the password. 
 
 " Death and confusion!" muttered Gaius, who, 
 with Titus, was pressing forward immediately 
 behind Barabbas. " 'Tis the Roman guard!" 
 
 " Forward^ men! Seize the Romans; there 
 are but a handful of them!" shouted Barabbas. 
 
 With a great cry the mob rushed on; and in 
 a moment the noise of a fierce conflict was 
 heard the clashing of swords, the clangor of 
 shields, savage yells, together with the shrieks 
 of the wounded, who were trampled ruthlessly 
 under foot. Barabbas had pushed forward into 
 the thick of the combat, where he fought 
 like a madman; but before many moments, it 
 was apparent that the mob was giving way. 
 
 "We have been betrayed!" said Duniachus 
 in the ear of Gaius. " Let us get away speedily; 
 we can do nothing to-night. The Romans are 
 thicker than bees." And without waiting for 
 an answer, he darted away through the crowd. 
 
 Almost instantly followed a great cry from 
 the front: " The Romans from the citadel are 
 
 *Pilate once brought the standards of the Roman army 
 into Jerusalem silver eagles on the top of poles and re- 
 fused to take them away; but the Jews surrounded his 
 house in Caesarea by thousands and for six days and six 
 nights they yelled incessantly, till he was forced to yield 
 and remove the hated standards from the Holy City. 
 
 ** " Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image, or 
 any likeness of any thing. . ." Ex. &>: 4. 
 
 upon us! Barabbas is taken! Run for your 
 lives!" 
 
 The mob was now in the wildest confusion, 
 each thinking only of his own safety. Titus was 
 hurried along with the rest, and hardly knowing 
 what he did, he darted down a narrow street in 
 the darkness. Presently finding himself uupur- 
 sued, he paused for an instant to recover his 
 breath, and listening intently, heard the frantic 
 yells of the mob, and the sound of the pursuing 
 soldiery growing momently more distant. 
 
 His heart beat high with hope. " I am safe 
 now!" he thought. " I have only to keep out of 
 sight till morning; then I can easily find my 
 way out of the city. I will go back and confess 
 the whole thing to Benoni; he shall believe me." 
 
 The thought of the quiet Capernaum home 
 was very sweet to him, as he stood there alone 
 and unfriended in the thick darkness. But why 
 was his tunic so warm and wet? And now he 
 became conscious of a stinging pain in his head. 
 " I am wounded," he thought; and feeling cau- 
 tiously in his thick curls, he discovered a deep 
 gash which seemed to be bleeding freely. 
 
 " Strange!" he muttered to himself, " I do not 
 remember that I was wounded in yonder fight!" 
 
 Presently he began to feel faint and light- 
 headed. " I must have help," he thought, " or 
 I shall perish in the street." 
 
 Moving cautiously, and as quickly as possible, 
 he advanced down the street, feeling his way 
 along by the wall. The moon was rising now. 
 and by her dim, uncertain light he saw that he 
 was about to emerge into an open square; on 
 the further side of this place there was a light. 
 as of a fire burning, and dark figures moving 
 near it. 
 
 Titus uttered a cry of joy, and staggered for- 
 ward, forgetting his danger, and thinking only 
 that help was at hand. The next moment he 
 fell half fainting to the ground, crying out feebly 
 for help. 
 
 " What was that sound?" said one of a number 
 of Roman soldiers, who were gathered around 
 the fire. 
 
 " I heard nothing," answered another. " What 
 was it like?" 
 
 " 'Twas a cry, and sounded near; but I know 
 not what it was?" 
 
 " 'Twas the insurgents," said the centurion. 
 " They are still pursuing them in the lower town. 
 They have taken many prisoners; the ring- 
 leader Barabbas among others. We shall have 
 a pretty show for Passover week." 
 
 " What meanest thou?" 
 
 " Why, of crosses, to be sure; 'tis the way 
 Pilate taketh to keep down this turbulent people. 
 "Us a wholesome sight for the crowds that come 
 to the city at Feast times, and doth more to 
 keep order than an extra legion."
 
 TITUS, A COMRADE OF THE CHOSS. 
 
 55 
 
 " Hist! I hoard the sound again!" said the 
 other; and plunging a torch into the fire, he be- 
 gan a hasty search in the neighborhood. " Here, 
 comrade!" he shouted. " 'Tis a wounded man; 
 lend me a hand with him!" 
 
 Between them they brought the lad to the fire, 
 and began to examine him roughly by its light. 
 
 " What dost thou make of him?" asked one. 
 
 " He is a Jew, by his features one of the in- 
 surgents. We must not let him escape us," re- 
 plied the centurion. " Tear a strip from his 
 tunic, and bind up his head; he hath a nasty 
 cut. And hand me yonder wine; I will give him 
 a sup." 
 
 " Verily, Marcus, thou art as handy as a 
 woman," declared one of the others who stood 
 by looking on. 
 
 " I am saving him for Passover week," said 
 he who W'<:.s called Marcus, with a brutal laugh. 
 " To die with a cut in his head, were too good 
 for such an one!" 
 
 Titus had revived under the combined influ- 
 ences of the warmth, the wine, and the stanch- 
 ing of the cut. 
 
 " Canst thou stand?" asked the centurion, see- 
 ing that he had opened his eyes. 
 
 Titus replied by standing up, albeit somewhat 
 unsteadily. 
 
 " Wert thou in yonder fight?" 
 
 " I was," said Titus in a low voice. " But" 
 
 " Take him to the prison, Caius and Brutus!" 
 was the prompt order. And before Titus could 
 protest, he was marched away between the two 
 soldiers, and shortly found himself thrust into 
 a cold, damp dungeon. Here he sank on to a pile 
 of mouldy straw; and despite his fears, and the 
 pain in his head, soon fell into a heavy slumber. 
 
 CHAPTER XXL 
 
 ITUS had 
 passed more 
 than a week 
 in his dun- 
 geon, when 
 one morning 
 he was roused 
 from an un- 
 easy slumber 
 by the entrance of a 
 guard of Roman sol- 
 diers. These com- 
 manded him to coma 
 forth, then marched 
 him rapidly and si- 
 lently through the 
 streets till they 
 reached the palace of the Governor. Passing 
 through the great entrance, which was heavily *Adar corresponds to our month of March, 
 
 Antonia. 
 
 guarded, they found themselves in the Prae- 
 torium, or Judgment Hall. 
 
 Titus glanced hastily around, then his head 
 sank upon his breast. In that brief survey, he 
 had seen that the great hall was thronged with 
 people, and that seated high aloft in imposing 
 state was a man whom he at once divined to be 
 Pontius Pilate, the Roman Governor. 
 
 For a moment he almost forgot his surround- 
 ings in the maze of confused and fearful 
 thoughts which thronged his brain. Again 
 roused by the suppressed but fierce murmur of 
 excitement about him, he looked up and saw the 
 imposing figure of Barabbas. Heavily manacled, 
 and guarded by four soldiers, he stood forth iu 
 the sight of all in a slightly elevated space im- 
 mediately before the judgment seat. 
 
 " Thou art accused of having incited an insur- 
 rection against the government, on the evening 
 of Adar* the twenty-seventh, and of having 
 committed murder, in that thou didst with thine 
 own hands feloniously slay certain soldiers of 
 the Roman guard, who were in lawful fulfill- 
 ment of their duty. Hast thou aught to say for 
 thyself?" 
 
 "Who are mine accusers? Let them stand 
 forth," said Barabbas boldly, looking at the 
 Governor with unflinching eyes. 
 
 " Produce the witnesses," said Pilate shortly. 
 
 Several men now advanced to the front, 
 among whom, Titus was amazed to recognize 
 Gestas. The testimony practically agreed, that 
 the prisoner was. on the night mentioned, en- 
 gaged in feloniously plotting against the govern- 
 ment; and that he was personally responsible 
 for the death of an unknown number of the 
 Roman soldiers, who were slain in the conflict. 
 
 " What sayest thou to the testimony of these 
 witnesses?" asked Pilate. " Is there any reason, 
 why I should not presently inflict upon thee thy 
 just penalty of thy misdeeds?" 
 
 " What were these, mine accusers, doing on 
 the night of Adar the twenty-seventh?" de- 
 manded Barabbas, with a scornful smile. 
 
 " That concerns thee not," replied Pilate 
 sternly. " Speak for thyself now, if thou wilt, 
 or hold thy peace while I pronounce sentence 
 upon thee." 
 
 " I will say this," said Barabbas, knowing that 
 his case was hopeless; "that I only regret that 
 we accomplished not our purpose, which was to 
 rend the golden eagle from the Temple of Je- 
 hovah. And furthermore, if the Romans which 
 desecrate the holy city of Jerusalem were pos- 
 sessed of one single neck, I would gladly hew it 
 asunder with my sword, that the land might be 
 rid of an abomination which riseth to heaven." 
 
 This incendiary speech was received with a
 
 56 
 
 572175; A COMitADfi OP THE CROSS. 
 
 storm of hisses from the Romans, and an irre- 
 pressible murmur of appfause from the Jews 
 who were present. The face of Pilate paled, 
 and his voice trembled with rage as he said: 
 
 " Out of thine own mouth thou art condemned; 
 it only remaineth for me to pass sentence upon 
 thee. Thou shalt be nailed to the cross on Fri- 
 day, the fifteenth day of Nisan* next, and re- 
 main thereon till life be extinct. Thou shalt 
 also be scourged upon being removed from my 
 presence, and again before the execution taketh 
 place." Then turning to the guard, he com- 
 manded them to remove the prisoner. 
 
 Titus was sick and faint at these fearful 
 words; but Barabbas, apparently unmoved, 
 passed from the presence of the Governor with 
 as lofty and undaunted a front as he had worn 
 on the night of the riot. 
 
 Then followed the examination of a number 
 of witnesses against forty or fifty of the in- 
 surgents. These had been seized by the sol- 
 diers as they fled after the capture of Barabbas. 
 Pilate disposed of their case very quickly, sen- 
 tencing them one and all to a heavy scourging, 
 and a night in the stocks.** 
 
 After these had been removed, for the inflic- 
 tion of their sentence, Pilate consulted for a few 
 moments with the officials who surrounded him, 
 then said in a loud voice, " Let the other prison- 
 ers be brought forward." 
 
 Titus was now roughly pushed to the space in 
 front of the judgment seat, and lifting his eyes, 
 he saw standing beside him the familiar figure 
 of Dumachus. The two stared at each other in 
 mutual surprise; then Dumachus smiled, and the 
 smile was an evil thing to see. 
 
 " Prisoners," said Pilate, " ye are accused of 
 three crimes highway robbery, murder and 
 rioting. Let the witnesses against you testify; 
 ,then shall ye speak for yourselves." 
 
 The first witness was the identical Samaritan 
 wine-merchant whose vintage Dumachus had 
 so highly praised. He deposed, that in his jour- 
 ney from Samaria to Jerusalem, he had been set 
 upon by thieves, who had stripped him of .his 
 possessions, consisting of certain skins of choice 
 wine which he was conveying to the Jerusalem 
 market; and even of his clothing. That after 
 boating him, and subjecting him to various in- 
 dignities, they had left him lying half dead by 
 the roadside. He had subsequently been res- 
 cued and cared for by one of his own country 
 men, who happened to be journeying that way. 
 He recognized the prisoners at the bar as mem- 
 bers of the band which had thus feloniously 
 assaulted him. 
 
 *Nisan corresponds to our month or April. 
 
 **Wooden blocks or frames with holes in which the feet 
 and sometimes the hands and neck of prisoners were con- 
 fined. 
 
 The next witness swore to having seen the 
 prisoners at the wine-shop of Clopas on the night 
 of the riot, and afterward in the company of 
 Barabbas at the time of the encounter with the 
 Roman guard. 
 
 Then the centurion who had captured Titus 
 recounted the circumstances of his arrest, and 
 also stated that the prisoner had confessed that 
 he had taken part in the riot. 
 
 The last witness to be brought forward, was 
 Gestas. He carefully avoided the eye of Dii- 
 machus, as he stood forth; and stared stolidly 
 at the Governor in his ivory chair of state. 
 
 " What sayest thou concerning the prisoners?" 
 asked Pilate. 
 
 Gestas looked down upon the ground, then 
 rolled his eyes uneasily at the guard which stood 
 near the prisoners; he seemed to feel the mur- 
 derous look with which Dumachus was eying 
 him. At length he began to speak in a low, 
 hoarse voice. 
 
 " I was promised that if I told all, I myself 
 should escape. Is it so, Excellency?" 
 
 " Thou shalt escape, even as was told thee. 
 Speak on!" said Pilate impatiently. 
 
 Well, then," continued the man, "Dumachus, 
 yonder, was chief of our band. There were 
 twenty of us in all. but about a dozen did most 
 of the business. We had our headquarters in 
 Capernaum; but put in most of our work on the 
 great highways leading to Jerusalem, where 
 there is always plenty of plunder for the taking. 
 We took much booty, and disposed of our prison- 
 ers as seemed best at the time. Many we 
 allowed to go free; but if any made outcry or 
 disturbance, our chief commanded them to bs 
 put to death as quickly and quietly as possible." 
 
 " How many did ye so dispose of?" questioned 
 Pilate. 
 
 The man scratched his head reflectively, then 
 replied, " I do not rightly know, Excellency. 
 We never counted them." 
 
 " Was this young man a member of the band?" 
 asked Pilate, indicating Titus, with a motion of 
 his hand. 
 
 " He was, until lately, Excellency. He Is 
 called Titus, and was known as the son of our 
 chief; but 'twas thought by all of us that he 
 was stolen in his infancy, and was therefore of 
 no kin to Dumachus." 
 
 " As a member of the band, took he part in 
 the robbery and murder of which thou hast 
 spoken?" 
 
 The man hesitated for a moment, then said: 
 
 " He was a good-hearted lad, and would have 
 been an honest one, had he been suffered to be 
 so; but he had a bold spirit, and a ready hand 
 in a fight." 
 
 " By that thou meanest that he did take part 
 in the business, as thou callest it?"
 
 TITUS, A COMEADE OF THE CROSS. 
 
 57 
 
 " 'Tis true that he killed an Ethiopian," was 
 the reply, " but 'twas in a fair fight; the fellow 
 had killed him else." 
 
 " Ye hear what these witness against you," 
 said Pilate, now addressing the prisoners. 
 " Thou, the chief, mayst speak first." 
 
 Dumachus lifted his shaggy head, and began 
 to speak rapidly, and in a whining voice. " The 
 man hath lied, Excellency; 'tis all a foul lie. I 
 am a fisherman by trade, and an honest man. 
 
 " Thou shalt suffer with the others; the world will be well rid of thee." 
 
 This young man here, is my son. He is a way- 
 ward lad, and hath caused me great sorrow. 
 He hath undoubtedly done much evil; I came 
 up to Jerusalem to endeavor to wean him from 
 his bad companions. 'Twas my errand in the 
 wine-shop of Clopas. It paineth my father's 
 heart thus to testify against mine only son, 
 but" 
 
 " Thou hast said enough," said Pilate, inter- 
 rupting him. " Thou art undoubtedly a valuable 
 citizen, and a sorrowing father 'tis written all 
 over thee. But we must even spare thee to en- 
 tertain our Passover visitors. On Friday, Nisan 
 the fifteenth, thou shalt suffer with Barabbas, 
 and in like manner. Guard, remove the pris- 
 
 oner!" as Dumachus began to bellow like an 
 
 animal. 
 " And thou, wayward son of a righteous father, 
 
 hast thou aught to say for thyself?" 
 Titus looked up into the sneering face of the 
 
 man on the judgment seat, then around on the 
 
 hostile faces which hemmed him in, his injured 
 
 head throbbing painfully. 
 
 " Oh, Stephen!" he cried aloud, " Oh, mother!" 
 Pilate was thoroughly tired of the whole 
 affair. Besides, it was 
 nearly time for the 
 noonday repast, and 
 he expected guests; it 
 was therefore the 
 more necessary for 
 him to have time ,x> 
 compose his spirits, 
 after the painful 
 scenes of the morning. 
 With a gesture of dis- 
 gust, he arose to his 
 feet and said sharply: 
 " Enough! This is 
 no place for a scene! 
 Thou shalt suffer with 
 the others; the world 
 will be well rid of 
 thee. Guards, remove 
 him! And clear the 
 hall." 
 
 Titus lay on the 
 mouldy straw of his 
 dungeon once more. 
 He was quiet now; he 
 was thinking, not of 
 the scenes of the morn- 
 ing, nor of the fright- 
 ful doom which hung 
 over him, but of the 
 old, sweet days with 
 Stephen on the lake; of 
 Prisca, the only 
 known; of the rosy, 
 little Ruth; of the 
 
 mother he had ever 
 laughing face of the 
 good old Benoni. And as he thought of all these, 
 another face arose before him; 'twas that of the 
 Nazarene, Jesus beautiful, mysterious, tender, 
 with a love beyond all earthly love and he fan- 
 cied he again heard those words which, light- 
 hearted and happy, he had heeded so little: 
 " Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy 
 laden, and I will give you rest." Over and over, 
 he repeated the words aloud, and their sound 
 seemed- to soothe his tortured brain. His eyes 
 closed, after a time, and with the healing words 
 still on his lips, he slept profoundly. 
 And as he slept he dreamed. He thought that
 
 TITUS, A COMEADE OF THE CROSS. 
 
 he was with Stephen, and that they two were 
 walking alone in a great and wide meadow. 
 'Twas a pleasant spot, for flowers of every form 
 and color bloomed profusely about them, while 
 the air was filled with the heavenly melody of 
 the lark, high above their heads. 
 
 Stephen was talking, as was his wont, in his 
 sweet silvery voice: " Dost thou remember how 
 the Master said, ' Consider the lilies, how they 
 grow; they toil not, neither do they spin; and 
 yet I say unto you that even Solomon in all his 
 glory, was not arrayed like one of these'? And 
 our Father in the heavens loveth us better than 
 He loveth the lilies, for we are His children; the 
 Master hath said it, not once, but many times." 
 
 " Thou art His child," Titus answered, with 
 a passionate longing at his heart. " But I I 
 know not whose child I am." 
 
 Then he lifted his eyes, and saw coming 
 toward them the figure of a Man clad in raiment 
 of a dazzling whiteness. 
 
 "Who }s it?" he said to Stephen; yet in his 
 heart he knew. 
 
 f? "Tig the Master!" cried Stephen joyfully, and 
 he hastened to meet Him. 
 
 But Titus stood still where he was, longing, 
 yet afraid; for he knew that he had sinned. As 
 he Ipoked, tye saw Stephen fall down at the Mas- 
 ter's feet in an ecstasy pf joy. Then Jesus put 
 forth, His hand, and raised him up, and th,e two, 
 Balking Jpvipgly together, came -towards im 
 amid the lilies, Then he thought that he hung 
 his bead, not daring to look again, for bis sin 
 was heavy upon him. 
 
 M My child!" 
 
 He raised his eyes slowly at the sound of that 
 voice, and as he looked, lo! the bitterness and 
 guilt of his heart melted away, and his soul ex- 
 panded with a mighty love. Then the Master, 
 leaning forward, touched him on the brow, and 
 said: 
 
 " Thou too, art mine!" 
 
 And he awoke, and it was a dream! But 
 his eyes shone in the darkness of his dungeon, 
 and his lips smiled. 
 
 " Behold, mine eyes have seen the King In 
 His beauty," 'he murmured. " And I am His." 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 was more than a 
 month, now, since 
 Stephen and his 
 mother had climbed 
 the rocky road leading 
 to Nazareth; and still 
 they abode in the 
 house of Mary, the 
 mother of Jesus. 
 Prisca had never riseu 
 from the bed on to 
 which she had sunken 
 so thankfully the night 
 of her arrival, and it became more and more 
 evident to the experienced eyes of Mary that 
 her days were numbered. Once, as she bent 
 over the invalid to perform some trifling ser- 
 vice, she said gently: 
 
 " I would that we could send word to my Son; 
 He could heal thee." 
 
 But the sick woman caught her hand. " No, 
 no!" she cried earnestly, " I am going to die, 
 and I am glad of it. My life has not been so 
 happy that I would fain live longer. Let roe di0 
 here, where it is sp quiet and peaceful," 
 
 And in truth, it was a peaceful haven that sho 
 had reached, after the troublous voyage of ftei 1 
 life, As. she lay in the humble bed fpagpant 
 with spotless linen, suffering no pain, but grow? 
 Ing daily weaker, she was almost happy for tbo 
 first time in years, 
 
 Often after the duties of the little home had 
 been performed, Mary would bring her spinning 
 into the chamber where the sick woman lay, and 
 sitting by her bedside, work silently while sho 
 slept. Sometimes they talked together. Once 
 she told Prisca the wondrous story of Bethler 
 hem, of the stars, the song of the angels, and 
 the visit of the wise men. Another time, when 
 Stephen was sitting by his mother, she told them 
 of the angelic warning, and the hurried journey 
 into Egypt; of the strange people and 
 customs of that far-away land; and of the re- 
 turnnot to their old home and friends in 
 Judea, but to this little mountain village of Naz- 
 areth. 
 
 Stephen never tired of listening as she talked 
 of the childhood of Jesus, of His boyhood, and 
 the years of His young manhood. 
 
 " This bench under the shade of the fig tree 
 is where He studied when He was a child," she 
 said one day, " and here I used to bring my 
 spinning in the long afternoons. He always 
 loved to be with me; while the other children 
 of the village liked best to play in the fountain, 
 OF fount hjrd'g pegts, or play rjpislly in UJQ
 
 TITUS, A COMRADE OF THE CROSS. 
 
 59 
 
 streets. Yet was He the happiest child in the 
 world, always singing about His work, and with 
 a smile like sunshine. The others all loved Him 
 dearly. Xo one could tell such beautiful stories 
 as He; and there was no other so ready to 
 soothe a sick baby, or comfort a crying child, or 
 bind up a cut finger, in the whole village. So 
 that while He loved best to be near me, as I 
 have said, and spent much of His time in help- 
 ing me about the house and garden, the neigh- 
 bors' children flocked about Him as thick as bees 
 about a rose. I remember me how He used to sit 
 on yonder bench, with one or two babies in His 
 arms, and a dozen other little ones crowded 
 about Him, some sitting at His feet, leaning 
 against His knee, and all listening with eyes 
 and ears wide open, as He talked to them of the 
 birds how they built their homes so patiently 
 and lovingly, and worked hard to bring up their 
 young ones all through the long bright days; 
 about the flowers that grew so fair and sweet 
 in the lonely valleys, where no one but God 
 could see them; about the snow that fell white 
 and silent from the clouds }n the winter time, 
 yet every tiny flake a thing of beauty. Some- 
 times on the Sabbath days He would repeat 
 Psalms to them, and tell them long stpries from 
 the Scriptures of Moses in his little ark and the 
 beautiful Princess; of Goliath and the bold 
 young David; of Samson, the fpoljsb strong man, 
 and many others." 
 
 " Ab!" said Stephen, witty shining eyes, and ij, 
 patbetlo look of wlstfulness, f how J wisfc I 
 might haye lived in Nazareth then!" 
 
 Mary smiled her beautiful gentle smile, and 
 her delicate hand caressingly on his thick 
 purls. "Dost thou know," she said, after a 
 little pause, " thou art like Him in some of thy 
 ways. When thou art working so busily In the 
 garden, singing softly to thyself, or sitting as 
 thou art now at my feet, I always think of Him 
 as He was at thy age. That Is why I talk of 
 Him to tbee so often." 
 
 " I would rather be like Him," cried Stephen 
 passionately, "than to be the Ceegar on his 
 throne!" 
 
 " In that art thou wise," said Mary, and her 
 deep eyes beamed with a mysterious light. " The 
 Cresar on his throne is at best but a sinful man, 
 while Jesus is" 
 
 " He is the Holy One of God!" said Stephen 
 reverently. 
 
 Then a silence fell between them for a time. 
 But always after that, the mother of Jesus no- 
 ticed how he tried, humbly and unobtrusively, 
 but ever faithfully, to fill that vacant place. 
 And in her heart she loved him for it 
 ' As for Prisca, she felt for her a tender pity, 
 for she divined that the woman bad somewhere 
 g, dark page ID Ijer history. Ooe day P.? v 
 
 silently by the bedside of the invalid, busied 
 with her spinning, glancing now and then at the 
 white worn face on the pillow, she saw that 
 great tears were stealing slowly from beneath 
 the closed lids. Rising, she leaned over the bed, 
 and taking the thin, chill hand of the sufferer 
 in both of hers, said gently: " Wilt thou not 
 tell me thy trouble?" 
 
 Instantly the dark eyes opened and looked 
 long and earnestly into the loving face above 
 her. " Yes!" she said slowly, " I will tell thee 
 all. I did a great wrong years ago, and it hath 
 weighed me to the earth all my life since. Yet 
 have I never had the courage to make it right." 
 
 Then she told the story of Titus, and how she 
 had stolen away by night to meet her lover, tak- 
 ing the child with her. 
 
 "Why didst thou take the child?" questioned 
 Mary. 
 
 " Dumachus bade me to," answered the woman 
 feebly, " And I loved the little one, and could 
 not bear to part with him; so I obeyed. I always 
 meant to restore him to his toother, but I never 
 dared. Once when I said that I must do it, my 
 husband in a fury struck me down; and worse 
 than that, he hurt my baby Stephen, crippling 
 him hopelessly. He was always helpless an4 
 suffering after that, till, as thou knpwest, he 
 was healed by the goodness of tby Son. Ah. 
 what do we not owe to thee! And now thou wilj; 
 hate me! J am not fit to be under this roof." 
 
 Mary was silent for a moment, but she kissed 
 the sufferer tenderly on the brow; then 8he said 
 firmly, M Thou must even yet make this wron>j 
 right Let thy son Stephen go to Capernaum 
 and bring the young man David hither. Thou; 
 shalt tell him all, and give into his hand tho 
 proofs that the story Is true. Hast thou them 
 here?" 
 
 " Yes," said Prisca, reaching under her pillow 
 and drawing out a little packet, securely 
 wrapped in linen, and bound with a silken 
 thread. " I have never let It go from me; 'tis 
 the little tunic which he wore when I fled with 
 him. His mother wrought It with her own 
 hands; she will know It. And with It Is a chain 
 of wrought silver, which she gave me to wear, 
 when she selected me from all her maidens to 
 care for the little David. And how have I be- 
 trayed my trust! What will become of me!" 
 
 " Thou hast indeed sinned grievously," said 
 Mary. " But God will forgive thee, even as He 
 forgave King David, who was guilty of murder, 
 if thou wilt but humble thine heart before Him." 
 
 " God knowetli that my heart is humbled, even 
 unto the dust; but, alas! it bringeth me no 
 peace!" 
 
 Mary looked troubled. She raised her dove- 
 like eyes. "Ah, Son of God!" she murmured, 
 '*rijfjf, W9$g tftat thovj w^ fcere ft)
 
 60 
 
 TITUS, A COMEADE OF THE CROSS. 
 
 minister to this sin-sick soul! As for me, I know 
 not what to say unto her." Then she spoke 
 again to the sick woman. " Dost thou know my 
 Son, who is called Jesus?" 
 
 " I have seen Him," answered Prisca. " And 
 I always longed to speak with Him, that I might 
 thank Him for the healing of my Stephen. But 
 I dared not; the sin in my heart was too great. 
 I had almost put it under my feet, till I saw 
 Him in Capernaum." 
 
 " He is the Sinless One," said Mary gravely. 
 " But didst thou never hear Him say that He 
 had come to this world out of heaven above, to 
 save them that had sinned?" 
 
 "Thou wilt find Titus give Mm this.' 1 
 
 " Said He that?" cried Prisca eagerly. "And 
 how save them?" 
 
 " He hath said, not once but many times, that 
 ' whosoever believeth in Him, should not perish, 
 but have everlasting life,' " said Mary simply. 
 
 " Thou art sure that He said, ' whosoever ' ?" 
 
 " He hath said it not once, but many times," 
 answered the mother of Jesus. 
 
 "And what is it that I must believe?" asked 
 Prisca, trembling. 
 
 " That He came down from God, to seek and 
 to save that which was lost; and that He is able 
 to accomplish that for which He came," an- 
 swered Mary. 
 
 " How could I help but believe that? did He 
 not save my Stephen from worse than death!" 
 Clasping her thin hands, gbe cried out joyfully: 
 " I believe that He is able!" Then she closed 
 
 her eyes and lay so quiet, that Mary thought 
 she slept. Presently Stephen stole into the 
 room, and stood beside the bed, looking down 
 at his mother. 
 
 " What thinkest thou?" he asked in a low 
 voice. " Doth she mend?" 
 
 But at the sound of his voice, the sick woman 
 opened her eyes. " I have been a great sinner 
 above most," she said faintly. " But He came 
 to save me, and I am at peace. Thou wilt find 
 Titus give him this. She will tell thee all." 
 
 Then the dark eyes closed again, and for the 
 last time. The two sat beside the bed and 
 watched the quiet sleeper through the long 
 hours of the night. Just at 
 dawn, the pale lips moved, and 
 Stephen, stooping down, 
 caught two words: "Stephen- 
 Jesus." Then the faint breath 
 stopped altogether. She had 
 entered into everlasting life. 
 
 After the simple funeral, 
 which took place, in accord- 
 ance with the Eastern custom, 
 at evening of the same day, 
 Stephen heard from the lips of 
 Mary the story of Titus. 
 
 He was greatly moved. 
 " Poor mother!" he said. " No 
 wonder she wept, with such a 
 burden on her heart. She was 
 a timid soul and lived al- 
 ways a life of terror." 
 
 Then he told the mother of 
 Jesus all that he knew of his 
 father's evil life. " He is all I 
 have left now," he said bit- 
 terly, when he had finished. 
 
 " Dost thou mean that?" said 
 Mary. 
 
 " No! A thousand times no!" 
 cried Stephen impetuously, as 
 he caught her meaning. " Didst thou hear my 
 mother's last words? In that moment when 
 with her dying breath she coupled my name 
 with His, I knew what I must do. I shall givo 
 my whole life to Him." 
 
 " Thou shalt indeed," said Mary, gazing away 
 over the hills with a solemn look in her deep 
 eyes. " But I know not what the future hath 
 in store for Him. He hath bitter enemies; some- 
 times I fear for His life." And she turned to 
 Stephen wth a tremulous quiver of her sweet, 
 firm mouth. 
 
 " Is He not the Beloved of the Father?" said 
 Stephen simply. " And is the Father not able to 
 save Him from the hand of His enemies?" 
 
 " ' He shall make His enemies His footstool,' 
 even as it is written," answered Mary, in a firm 
 voice, " and He shall triumph gloriously!"
 
 TITUS, A COMRADE OP THE CBOSS. 
 
 Stephen regarded her with awe. 
 
 After a little silence, she said: "To-morrow 
 thou must go forth even as thy mother bade thee. 
 that thou mayst find the young man David, and 
 acquaint him with all that hath happened. As 
 for me, I am going up to Jerusalem. Something 
 tells rue that He will have need of me." 
 
 1 Enough!" said Caiaphas. " Leave me; and prepare the council chamber. 
 
 And so it happened that in the morning early, 
 Stephen set forth alone on his journey, bearing 
 with him the little tunic wrought by the mother 
 of Titus, and the silver chain which had be- 
 longed to his own dead mother. And when he 
 departed Mary blessed him and kissed him; and 
 he wept, as he bade her farewell, for he was 
 but a lad after all, and the world was wide and 
 looely. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 Caiaphas was striding up and down the floor 
 of his own private apartment, his hands clasped 
 behind him, his head bent forward on his 
 breast. His eyes were blazing with an angry 
 light beneath his brows, and now and then 
 he muttered fiercely to him- 
 self, " Blasphemer! He shall 
 be crushed! Have I not vowed 
 it I, Caiaphas, the High 
 Priest? He shall not defy me 
 longer!" 
 
 Hearing a slight sound out- 
 side, he strode rapidly to the 
 door of the chamber, and 
 flung it open. 
 
 "Ah, Malchus! 'Tis thou. 
 Enter! Well, what hast thou 
 to say?" 
 
 The man bent his head 
 humbly. " Most worshipful 
 master, I went as I was bid- 
 den to Bethany. When I 
 reached the place, I had not 
 the slightest difficulty in find- 
 ing the abode of Lazarus; the 
 streets were thronged with 
 people going and coming to 
 the house, which I found to be 
 one of the humbler cottages of 
 the town, albeit comfortable 
 and tidy." 
 
 " I care not what sort of a 
 place it was," interrupted 
 Caiaphas irritably. " The 
 man! didst thou see the 
 man?" 
 
 " I saw the man Lazarus- 
 alive and well," continued 
 Malchus. " He was in th-i 
 garden of his house talking to 
 the people." 
 
 " Talking to the people, was 
 he!" sneered the High Priest. 
 " The country is full of orators 
 nowadays. And what said 
 he?" 
 
 " He was telling the story of 
 his resurrection. He said that 
 the four days which he passed 
 in the tomb were as a sleep. He hath still a faint 
 memory of wondrous dreams, but cannot tell 
 clearly what they were like. He was also prais- 
 ing and blessing God, and ascribing equal 
 praises to the Nazarene, whom he called the 
 Son of God, and the Consolation of Israel." 
 
 Caiaphas ground his teeth. " And the peo- 
 ple?" 
 "The people all cried aloud, 'Hallelujah!'
 
 TITUS, A COMRADE OF THE CROSS. 
 
 and ' Hosanna to the Son of David!' All Beth- 
 any hath gone mad over the thing; such a won- 
 der hath never even been heard of." 
 
 " 'Tis a palpable lie, and hath been invented 
 by this fellow and His followers to make an up- 
 roar just at Feast time! Didst thou question 
 others concerning the thing, as I bade thee?" 
 
 The man looked gravely at his master. " 'Tis 
 regarded as a veritable miracle in Bethany," he 
 said. " I made the most careful investigation, 
 even as thou didst command me, questioning 
 many discreet and prudent persons concerning 
 the matter. I also examined the tomb in which 
 he lay. The man was unquestionably dead, and 
 had been buried four days; but how the Nais- 
 arene was able to restore him to life, except by 
 the power of God, I know not; nor could any 
 one tell me." 
 
 " Keep thy senses, man! Let not the evil one 
 prevail over thee!" said the High Priest, looking 
 sternly at his favorite servant. " No disciple of 
 the Blasphemer shall serve me." 
 
 " I am not a disciple," replied Malchus, look- 
 ing down upon the ground. " But the thing is 
 beyond my understanding." 
 
 " Enough!" said Caiaphas, with an impatient 
 gesture. " Leave me; and prepare the council 
 chamber. Let it be in readiness within an hour." 
 
 "We have dealt gently with this thing too 
 long already; the Man must be put out of the 
 way, and that speedily!" 
 
 The speaker was the venerable Annas. He was 
 the centre of an excited group in the council 
 chamber of the High Priest. " If we let Him 
 thus alone, as we have been doing for almost 
 three years now, all men will believe on Him, 
 and the Romans will come and take away both 
 our place and nation; and deservedly so. He 
 should have been dealt with long ago 'twas my 
 advice then, and could have been easily followed 
 in the beginning; but the matter hath now 
 assumed such an aspect, that it will be exceed- 
 ingly difficult to bring about His death." 
 
 " I am not in favor of putting the Man to 
 death," said Nicodemus, in his mild tones. " For 
 in my opinion He hath done nothing worthy of 
 death." 
 
 "Thou knowest nothing at all!" broke out 
 Caiaphas, passionately, " nor dost consider that 
 it is expedient for us that one man should die 
 for the people, and that the whole nation perish 
 not." 
 
 Nicodemus looked at him for a moment in 
 silence. " Thou art the High Priest," he said 
 solemnly. " Jehovah speaketh through the words 
 of thy mouth; but God forbid that we put an in- 
 nocent man to death. For my part I will have 
 nothing further to do with this thing." 
 
 " We have long suspected that thou art one 
 of His disciples," said Annas, with a sneer. 
 " Thou art therefore out of place in the Council 
 of the Sanhedrim. Go hence, and join thy illus- 
 trious Master, the Carpenter, and His followers 
 whom He hath gathered from the refuse of the 
 earth." 
 
 Nicodemus made no reply; but he arose and 
 passed out of the council chamber in dignified 
 silence. 
 
 " Let him go!" said Jochanan. " 'Tis not meet 
 that we lose time in discussing what is suffi- 
 ciently obvious to all the rest of our number." 
 As he spoke, he glanced around the circle, and 
 a little murmur of applause followed. 
 
 But there was one who did not join in the ap- 
 plause. He was looking steadily upon the floor 
 at his feet, his fingers busying themselves un- 
 easily with his long beard. The name of this 
 man was Joseph, and he was a native of Arima- 
 thea. 
 
 " Now as to the case of this fellow Lazarus, 
 who is making quite an uproar on his own ac- 
 count," continued Jochanan, " what think ye? 
 It seemeth to me that he were better off in the 
 tomb from which he was taken. If he were in- 
 deed dead, then was it the will of God, and he 
 should have remained so. We shall not be doing 
 unlawfully if we carry out upon him the sen- 
 tence of death which Jehovah had Himself 
 already imposed." 
 
 " Thou hast spoken wisely," said Annas. " The 
 man had evidently reached the proper limit of 
 his days; it is more than probable that his body 
 is now animated by a devil, which thus speak- 
 eth blasphemously through the flesh. He should 
 be put out of the way, and that speedily. See 
 to it; for he leadeth away much people after 
 him." 
 
 " Moreover, being a dead body, which hath no 
 longer any right on top of the earth, he defileth 
 every man with whom he cometh in contact," 
 said another, piously. 
 
 " Let the man Lazarus alone!" said Joseph of 
 Arimathea, unable to restrain himself any 
 longer. " I know him well; he is an honest man 
 and a just. I have also seen him since his resur- 
 rection from the dead if so it was. He hath not 
 a devil; and believing what he doth, he justly 
 praiseth God for his deliverance, and glorifieth 
 with Him his Savior from the tomb." 
 
 " The matter can be discussed later," said 
 Annas smoothly. " Can any one inform me of 
 the whereabouts of the Nazarene?" 
 
 " He hath come even to-day to Bethany, where 
 He sojourneth with this same Lazarus," said 
 Caiaphas. " I was informed of the fact as I 
 entered the council chamber. He undoubtedly 
 purposeth to be in Jerusalem for the Feast. He 
 must be seized in secret, that there be no uproar
 
 TITUS, A COMRADE OF THE CROSS. 
 
 63 
 
 among the people. And there must also be some 
 evidence secured against Him, which shall 
 bring Him under Roman jurisdiction. For, as 
 ye know, this tribunal hath not the power to put 
 any man to -death." 
 
 The eyes of several present flashed danger- 
 ously, at this reference to the Roman supremacy 
 and the national degradation. But Annas has- 
 tened to say blandly: 
 
 " The Romans have not shown themselves un- 
 friendly to the church of the living God our 
 Temple beareth witness to the fact; we must 
 not forget it, nor blindly risk being crushed by 
 the iron hand of Rome. We must rather seek 
 to ally ourselves to them in every way in our 
 power. If this Man Jesus can be convicted of 
 plotting against the government, our work will 
 be practically done. We can then deliver Him 
 over into the hand of Pilate, assured that He 
 will be dealt with after His deserts. To-morrow, 
 especially, let Him be watched closely; in such 
 a case as this, the Sabbath laws must be re- 
 laxed, so that we shall be enabled to perform 
 this work which is assuredly one of neces- 
 sity." 
 
 At this moment a loud knocking was heard 
 at the door of the council chamber. Caiaphas 
 looked astonished. " Who dareth to interrupt 
 us in our deliberations!" he said aloud. " But 
 stay! It must be something of importance!" 
 And he beckoned to one of his brothers-in-law 
 to open the door. 
 
 The man returned almost instantly, and said 
 in a low voice: " 'Tis one of the followers of 
 the Nazarene. He would speak with the High 
 Priest." 
 
 Caiaphas hesitated. 
 
 " Wilt thou not command that he be brought 
 before us?" suggested Annas. "It may be that 
 he hath repented himself of his folly in joining 
 the Man; he might in that case be disposed to 
 give us timely assistance." 
 
 " Let him be brought in," said Caiaphas. 
 
 There was a silence in the chamber, broken 
 only by the footfalls of the man who now en- 
 tered. As he stopped and hesitated at the sight 
 of the imposing assemblage, it could be seen 
 that he was of low stature, and of a singularly 
 sinister and forbidding cast of countenance. 
 
 Annas smiled genially as his eye fell upon the 
 new-comer. 
 
 " Wilt thou not come forward and acquaint 
 us with thy desires?" he said in his most 
 honeyed tones. 
 
 The man looked at him. " Art thou the High 
 Priest?" he asked hoarsely. 
 
 " I am the High Priest, fellow! What wouldst 
 thou with me?" demanded Caiaphas impa- 
 tiently. 
 
 But Annas touched him warningly. '' Thou 
 
 hast come, my good man, to speak with us in 
 regard to the Nazarene; is it not so?" he asked. 
 
 The man's face brightened, and an evil light 
 shone in his eyes. " Aye!" he said in a loud 
 voice, " I have! I can no longer abide His pres- 
 ence. It hath been made known to me that 
 thou art His enemy, therefore am I come." 
 
 "Ah!" said Annas softly, "thou wouldst fain 
 return to the bosom of the church of thy fathers, 
 and cease thy wanderings in by and forbidden 
 paths; am I not right?" 
 
 " I care not for the church!" was the bold re- 
 ply, " any more than the church careth for me. 
 But I want money; what wilt thou give me if I 
 betray Him into thy hands?" 
 
 Caiaphas started to his feet, while joy spar- 
 kled in his eyes. " What will I give thee?" he 
 exclaimed. " Why, man" 
 
 But Annas checked him, saying in a low 
 voice: " Let me manage the fellow, my son; I 
 understand this sort as thou dost not." Then 
 he went on judicially: " It were worth no great 
 sum, assuredly, my good man, since we already 
 know where He is to be found. Still, thou might- 
 est be of assistance to us, and we are disposed 
 to be generous. What sayest thou to twenty 
 pieces of silver?" 
 
 The man looked down. " 'Tis too little," he 
 said sullenly. " Thou knowest not His haunts 
 as I do." 
 
 " True," said Annas smoothly. " I will even 
 increase the amount by half. Betray Him into 
 oui' hands safely, and at a time \vhen there shall 
 be no uproar of the people, and we will give 
 thee thirty pieces of silver* 'tis a goodly sum 
 and not to be despised." 
 
 The man shuffled uneasily on his feet, and 
 looked furtively about him at the evidences of 
 wealth on every side. But he made no answer. 
 
 Caiaphas, in a fury of impatience, was about 
 to burst out into speech, when Annas again 
 spoke, and this time his cold, even tones had 
 a shade of sternness in them: 
 
 " Thou must decide quickly, for we are con- 
 sidering other plans. Wilt thou have the thirty 
 pieces, or wilt thou not? Thy Master is doomed 
 in any event." , 
 
 The man was silent for a moment longer, 
 then he said slowly: 
 
 "Well, I will do it; 'tis a small sum. But I 
 am a poor man; I must look out for myself. I 
 have wasted many months in following this 
 Jesus. I thought Him the Messiah; but He 's 
 not He is not He is not." And his voice died 
 away into an inarticulate murmur. 
 
 " Thou hast done right and wisely, both for 
 thyself and for us," said Annas warmly, rising 
 
 *Or shekels of silver. Equal to about eighteen dollars in 
 United States money. This sum was the legal price of 9 
 slave.
 
 64 
 
 TITUS, A COMRADE OF THE CEOSS. 
 
 and approaching the miserable wretch, who was 
 trembling in every limb. " Thou shalt have food 
 and wine before leaving the palace. But first, 
 what is thy name? and what art thou to the 
 Nazarene?" 
 
 " My name is Judas Iscariot. I am one of the 
 twelve who are always with Him," replied the 
 man, in so low a voice that Annas could hardly 
 catch the words* 
 
 '"One of His immediate followers!" said 
 Annas, rubbing his hands, and looking about the 
 circle of attentive listeners with a triumphant 
 smile. "Ah, this is better than I thought; it is 
 indeed well! Now, my good man, it is import- 
 ant that the Nazarene should suspect nothing 
 of all this thou seest that, of course, for thou 
 art a shrewd fellow therefore attend strictly to 
 what I shall say. Go back to Him and attend 
 Him as usual, till such a time as thou canst 
 safely mind, I say safely, with no disturbance, 
 nor outcry to arouse the people deliver Him 
 into our hands. We/ will take care of the rest. 
 And the silver shall be paid thee immediately 
 thereafter. This is the earnest of the larger 
 sum which shall be thine." And he pressed a 
 coin into the man's hand. 
 
 He clutched at it greedily, muttering some- 
 thing unintelligible. 
 
 But Annas was content. " Here, Malchus!" 
 he said cheerfully, opening the door of the 
 chamber, " take this good fellow and see that he 
 hath an abundance both of food and wine." 
 
 But at this, the man turned fiercely upon him. 
 " Nay, I am not a beggar! I want only what is 
 justly due me." Then looking full into the eyes 
 of Annas, he hissed: "Thou shalt have Him! 
 Do not doubt it; for I hate Him, even as thou 
 dost!" 
 
 After that he turned and went swiftly away, 
 without once looking behind him. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 WANT to go home, mother! Why 
 must we stay here so long?" and 
 the child tugged impatiently at 
 his mother's robe. 
 
 " Nay, my child, thou must be 
 patient. We have not long to 
 wait now. See, here is a cake 
 for thee; eat it while I tell thee again why we 
 are here, for thou must remember this day to 
 thy latest breath." 
 
 " Tell me," said the child, between his mouth- 
 fuls, looking up into his mother's face. 
 
 " When thou wert a babe, my Gogo, thou wast 
 nigh unto death; and this Jesus healed thee." 
 
 " Thou hast told me that many times! Give 
 me another cake; I am hungry." 
 
 " Yes, my son, I have told thee many times, 
 for had it not been for this Jesus, thou wouldst 
 even now be lying in the grave and I should be 
 childless! My child! My love!" And the 
 mother embraced the little form with passionate 
 tenderness. 
 
 " Why dost thou hold me so tight, mother?" 
 asked the boy, shaking the curls out of his eyes. 
 " Oh! see that lovely bird!" 
 
 "Never mind the bird, child, but listen! This 
 Jesus is a King the Messiah. To-day He is 
 coming along this road, and thou shalt see Him." 
 
 " A King! Will He wear a crown?" 
 
 " I know not. It may be. We shall see. But 
 look at the people! thousands upon thousands 
 of them! We have a good place here. We shall 
 be near Him." 
 
 " Nay, I like it not; I care not to see a king. I 
 would rather play. Let us go home!" 
 
 "Hark! Dost thou hear that?" cried another 
 woman who stood near. " They are coming! 
 What is it that they are saying' Hosamia! 
 Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is He 
 that cometh in the name of the Lord! Hosanna 
 in the highest!' Ah, 'tis a blessed day! To 
 think that we should live to see it! But see thy 
 people running! They are stripping down, the 
 palm leaves!" 
 
 "Why do they do that, mother?" again ques- 
 tioned the little one. 
 
 " Thou shalt sit on my shoulder and see. Now 
 art thou as tall as a man, and can see further 
 than I. What seest thou?" 
 
 " I see many people coming and a Man rid- 
 ing upon a mule," replied the child. 
 
 " Yes! yes!" said the other woman, " I see 
 also. Can it be He? The people are shouting 
 and throwing the palm branches before Him! 
 See! they strip off their garments, and lay them 
 also in the road!"* 
 
 And now the procession was close at hand; 
 " and the whole multitude of the disciples be- 
 gan to rejoice and praise God with a loud voice, 
 for all the mighty works that they had seen, 
 saying: 
 
 **" Give thou the triumph, O Jehovah, to the 
 Son of David! Blessed be the kingdom of our 
 father David, now to be restored in the name of 
 Jehovah! Blessed be He that cometh the King 
 of Israel in the name of Jehovah. Our peace 
 and salvation are from God above! Praised be 
 He in the highest heavens! From the highest 
 heavens send Thou now salvation!" 
 
 " Look at Him, child! 'Tis the King the Mes- 
 
 *An oriental mark of honor at the reception of kings on 
 their entrance into cities. 
 **Afterward the first hymn of the Christian Church,
 
 TITUS, A COMRADE OF THE CROSS. 
 
 65 
 
 siah! Shout now with me Hosanna to the 
 Kiii^! Hosanna to the Son of David!" 
 
 " Hold thy peace, woman! Art thou mad, that 
 thou teac-iiest thy innocent babe to blaspheme?" 
 
 The woman, startled by these harsh words, 
 turned about and fixed her eyes, large with 
 fright, rpon the speaker. She saw that he was 
 a riiarisee, and clasping the little one closer to 
 her breast, she said: 
 
 " I know not what thou sayest. He is the 
 Savior of my child; therefore I praise Him." 
 
 But the man paid no heed to her answer; he 
 was pressing forward into the throng which sur- 
 rounded the Master. 
 
 " Hearest thou what these be saying?" he 
 shouted angrily. " Bid them hold their peace!" 
 
 The Master turned, and looking upon him, 
 said: " I tell you that if these should hold their 
 peace, the stones would immediately cry out." 
 
 " And when He was near, He beheld the city, 
 and wept over it, saying, If thou hadst known, 
 even thou, at least in this thy day, the things 
 which belong unto thy peace! But now they are 
 hid from thine eyes. For the days shall come 
 upon thee, that thine enemies shall cast a trench 
 about thee, and compass thee round, and keep 
 thee in on every side, and shall lay thee even 
 with the ground, and thy children within thee. 
 And they shall not leave in thee one stone upon 
 another; because thou knewest not the time of 
 thy visitation. And when He was come into 
 Jerusalem, all the city was moved, saying, Who 
 is this? And the multitude answered, This is 
 Jesus, the prophet of Nazareth of Galilee." 
 
 As the procession passed within the city gates, 
 and the sound of the chanting and acclamations 
 died away, one of a group of men in foreign 
 dress who had been intent witnesses of the 
 scene, turned to his companions. " What say 
 ye to this, friends?" he asked earnestly. 
 
 " 'Tis a wondrous sight And the Man! His 
 countenance hath a look upon it that is not of 
 earth. Know ye aught concerning Him?" 
 
 " I have heard, mine Apelles, that He is in 
 deed and in truth the Prince long expected of 
 the Jews, and foretold in their Scriptures. Even 
 now they look to see Him establish His throne 
 in Jerusalem. I would fain see Him, and stand 
 in His presence." 
 
 " I also, mine Andronicus," said another. "But 
 how may that be? We are Gentiles albeit con- 
 verts from the pagan faith of our fathers to 
 the one only and true God. Would this King 
 of the Jews suffer us to approach Him?" 
 
 " Nay, I know not," answered Apelles. " But 
 He hath not yet hedged Himself about with the 
 grandeur of a king. Didst thou see how even 
 the children and the women approached Him 
 fearlessly?" 
 
 " 'Tis true," said one who had hitherto been 
 silent. " If He be a king, He is a king apart 
 from the kings of this earth. His followers be 
 humble meu. One of them is known to me. He 
 hath a Greek name Philip. Let us seek him and 
 inquire further of this matter." And forthwith 
 they all entered into the city and sought the 
 Temple. For there they hoped to find the man 
 Philip. 
 
 As they passed into the Court of the Gentiles, 
 the quick eye of Rufus caught sight of the man 
 of whom he had spoken, about to pass into the 
 inner court, whither these foreigners could not 
 come. Starting forward hastily, Rufus touched 
 him on the shoulder and said in a low voice: " A 
 word with thee, good friend." 
 
 Philip turned himself about, and as his eye 
 fell upon the swarthy face of the Greek, he drew 
 back a little, and said somewhat coldly: 
 
 " Ah, Rufus, 'tis thou! What wilt thou?" 
 
 " I would have speech with thee for a mo- 
 ment," replied Rufus. " I and certain of my 
 countrymen like myself converts to the religion 
 of the Jews have come up to the Feast and to- 
 day we saw the Man who is called the prophet 
 of Nazareth as He entered into the city; and cer- 
 tain strange things also concerning Him have 
 come to our ears. Sir, we would fain see this 
 Jesus for ourselves, that we also may learn of 
 Him." 
 
 Philip looked troubled. " Friend, thou art a 
 Gentile, notwithstanding that thou hast turned 
 from idolatry to the true faith. I know not 
 whether this may be. And yet stay! I will 
 consult with another of our number. Wait here; 
 I will return speedily." So saying, he turned 
 away and was quickly lost to view in the crowd 
 which filled the place. 
 
 The Greek beckoned to his companions. 
 " Thou wert right, mine Apelles." he said bit- 
 terly; " these Jews cannot forget that we are 
 but strangers within the gate." 
 
 " He will not receive us then!" said Apelles in 
 a tone of deep disappointment. " Let us depart 
 out of this place, and I care not whether I ever 
 return." 
 
 " Nay, friend thou art over-hasty," said 
 Rufus, smiling at the impetuous young man. 
 " We have directions to wait here until the fol- 
 lower of the Nazarene hath made sure of the 
 matter. Nevertheless, he reminded me that I 
 was a Gentile. 'Tis a name that I hate! But 
 see! he is returning, and with him another." 
 
 " We have spoken with the Master concerning 
 thee," said Philip, " and since it is unlawful for 
 thee to come to Him in the inner courts of the 
 Temple, He will even come forth unto thee. Ho 
 is ever merciful and hath compassion on the 
 lowliest." ho add?;l. 
 
 The proud, sensitive face of Apelles flushed
 
 66 
 
 TITUS, A COMRADE OF THE CBOSS. 
 
 at these words, but Andronicus made an- 
 swer: 
 
 " Thy Master doeth us honor. It may be that 
 even we, Gentiles though we be, shall yet render 
 Him some service which shall be acceptable 
 unto Him." 
 
 Philip bowed his head gravely, but made no 
 answer. Then, lifting up his eyes, he said: 
 " The Master is at hand." 
 
 And the Greeks, looking earnestly in the direc- 
 tion to which he pointed, saw approaching them 
 the Jesus whom they had longed for. They 
 bowed in lowliest reverence before Him, and 
 Jesus, lifting up His face to heaven, said: 
 
 " The hour is come that the Son of man should 
 be glorified." 
 
 Then looking searchingly into the earnest faces 
 before Him, He continued, " Verily, verily I say 
 unto you, except a grain of wheat fall into the 
 earth and die, it abideth by itself alone; but 
 if it die, it beareth much fruit. He that loveth 
 his life loseth it, and he that hateth his life in 
 this world shall keep it unto life eternal. If any 
 man would serve me, let him follow me; and 
 where I am, there shall also my servant be. If 
 any man serve me, him will the Father honor." 
 
 Here He paused for a moment, evidently lost 
 in thought; then again lifting His face toward 
 the cloudless spring heavens, He said in a tone 
 of pathetic patience: " Now is my soul troubled; 
 and what shall I say? Father, save me from 
 this hour. But for this cause came I unto this 
 hour. Father, glorify thy name." 
 
 Then sounded forth a great and melodious 
 voice, filling all the infinite space of the sun-lit 
 sky above them: 
 
 " I have both glorified it, and will glorify^ it 
 again." 
 
 The Greeks were awe-stricken at the prayer 
 and at its wondrous answer. Instinctively they 
 covered their faces with their hands, and sank 
 upon the earth. 
 
 " It thunders," said one of a group of Jewish 
 Rabbis who stood by, enviously watching the 
 scene. 
 
 " An angel hath spoken to Him," murmured 
 others beneath their breath. 
 
 And the Master answering said: "This voice 
 hath not come for my sake, but for your sakes. 
 Now is the judgment of this world: now shall 
 the prince of this world be cast out. And I, if I 
 be lifted up from the earth, will draw all men 
 unto me." 
 
 " We have heard out of the Law that the 
 Christ abideth forever," said one of the Rabbis: 
 " and how sayest thou, that the Sou of man must 
 be crucified? Who is this Son of man?" 
 
 And Jesus made answer: 
 
 " Yet a little while is the light among you. 
 Walk while ye have the light, that darkness 
 
 overtake you not; and he that walketh in dark- 
 ness knoweth not whither he goeth. While ye 
 have the light, believe on the light, that ye may 
 become sons of light." 
 
 Then He went away and was seen no more of 
 the multitudes that day. 
 
 And the Greeks departed out of the Temple, 
 communing earnestly together of all that they 
 had both seen and heard. 
 
 " Let us tarry in Jerusalem," they said, " that 
 we may again speak with Him." 
 
 But the Jews believed not, for their eyes were 
 blinded to the light, and their souls were filled 
 with bitterness and envy. 
 
 Yet because of the voice from heaven some 
 even of the rulers believed; but they durst not 
 confess it, because they feared the Pharisees. 
 Verily, they loved the glory of men more than 
 the glory of God. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 ONDER is a man bearing a 
 pitcher. Dost see him? He is 
 coming this way." 
 
 " I see him," said Peter, look- 
 ing earnestly in the direction in 
 which John was pointing. " Let 
 '' us follow quickly, lest he es- 
 
 cape out of our sight." 
 
 So the two followed the man, who presently 
 paused before the gateway of a house, seemingly 
 that of a well-to-do family. The two entered 
 boldly in after the pitcher-bearer, who turned to 
 stare at them with amazement. 
 
 " We would see the master of the house," said 
 Peter authoritatively. 
 
 The man made obeisance. " Wait here for a 
 moment, good sirs, and I will fetch him," he 
 said, looking curiously at the two. 
 
 Presently he returned, followed by an elderly 
 man. 
 
 " If thou art the master of the house," said 
 Peter, fixing his eyes upon him, " I have a mes- 
 sage for thee." 
 
 The man bowed his head. " Speak," he re- 
 plied. " and I will listen." 
 
 " This is my message," continued Peter. " The 
 Master saith unto thee, ' Where is the guest
 
 TITUS, A COMEADE OF THE CEOSS. 
 
 67 
 
 chamber, where I shall eat the Passover with 
 my disciples?" 
 
 " 'Tis the word I received in my dream," mur- 
 mured the man, as if to himself. " Lo, I have 
 prepared the chamber, and it is ready. Follow 
 me." 
 
 They followed him, and he showed them a. 
 large upper room, furnished with everything 
 needful for the feast. And they made ready 
 the Passover. 
 
 And when it was evening Jesus came with His 
 disciples, that they might eat of the supper. 
 And as they reclined at the table as was the 
 custom Jesus being in the midst, He looked 
 about upon the twelve and said: "With desire 
 I have desired to eat this Passover with you 
 before I suffer. For I say unto you, I will not 
 any more eat thereof, until it be fulfilled in the 
 kingdom of God." 
 
 And as they were eating, He said: " Verily I 
 say unto you, that one of you shall betray me." 
 
 And they were all astonished and exceeding 
 sorrowful, and began every one of them to say 
 unto Him: " Lord, is it I?" 
 
 Now John, who was especially beloved by the 
 Master, was next to Him at the table. Peter, 
 looking at him attentively, motioned that he 
 should ask Jesus who it was of whom He spoke. 
 
 And John said very softly, so as to be heard 
 by no one save the Master, " Lord, who is it?" 
 
 And Jesus, in the same low tone, made an- 
 swer: " 'Tis he to whom I shall give a morsel 
 of bread, when I have dipped it in the dish." 
 
 Then breaking from the thin cake of bread 
 before him a fragment, He rolled it up, and 
 dipping it into the dish as is the Eastern cus- 
 tom to this day gave it to Judas Iscariot. 
 
 As Judas accepted this little token of friend- 
 ship from the hand of Him whom he had once 
 loved, all the awful passions of his soul broke 
 their bonds. He started up, his eyes blazing 
 with an evil light. Jesus looked at him, and 
 said, still in a low voice: " What thou doest, do 
 quickly." 
 
 And unable to bear the look in those eyes, 
 Judas slunk out of the room and hurried away 
 in the darkness, muttering fiercely to himself. 
 
 When he had gone, Jesus said to the eleven: 
 " Now is the Son of man glorified, and God is 
 glorified in Him. Little children, yet a little 
 while I am with you. Ye shall seek me; but 
 whither I go, ye cannot come. A new command- 
 ment I give unto you, That ye love one another, 
 even as I have loved you." 
 
 And He took bread and blessed it, and brake 
 it, and gave to the disciples, and said: "Take, 
 eat; this is my body, which is given for you. 
 This do in remembrance of me." 
 
 And He took the cup, and gave thanks, and 
 gave it to them, saying, Drink ye all of it. For 
 
 this is my blood of the new testament, which 
 is shed for many for the remission of sins. 
 This do ye, as often as ye shall drink it, in re- 
 membrance of me. But I say unto you, I will 
 not drink henceforth of this fruit of the vine, 
 until that day when I drink it new with you in 
 my Father's kingdom." 
 
 Then Peter said to Him: " Lord, where is it 
 that thou art going?" For he was perplexed 
 and sorrowful, as were they all. 
 
 Jesus answered him: "Whither I go, thou 
 canst not follow me now, but thou shalt follow 
 me afterward." 
 
 "Lord, why cannot I follow thee now?" in- 
 sisted Peter anxiously. " I will lay down my 
 life for thy sake." 
 
 Jesus looked at him sorrowfully, as He an- 
 swered: "Every one. of you shall be offended 
 because of me this night. For it is written, ' I 
 will smite the shepherd, and the sheep of the 
 flock shall be scattered abroad.' But after I am 
 risen I will go before you into Galilee." 
 
 " Though all men should be offended because 
 of thee," declared Peter passionately, " yet will 
 I never be offended!" 
 
 " Simon! Simon!" said the Lord warningly, 
 " behold, Satan hath desired to have you, that 
 he may sift you as wheat. But I have prayed for 
 thee, that thy faith fail not. And when thou art 
 converted, strengthen thy brethren." 
 
 But Peter answered Him yet again: " Lord, I 
 am ready to go with thee both into prison and to 
 death." 
 
 Then said Jesus sadly: "Verily I say unto 
 thee, that this day even in this night before 
 the cock crow twice, thou shalt deny me thrice." 
 
 " If I should die with thee," cried Peter, ve- 
 hemently, " I will not deny thee in any way." 
 
 And all the others said the same. 
 
 Then Jesus had compassion on them, as He 
 thought of all that they must suffer in the 
 future; and He said many sweet and comfort- 
 ing things to them, which though they forgot in 
 the terror and confusion that shortly followed, 
 John afterward remembered and wrote of it all. 
 And it hath come down to us, even to this day. 
 Likewise He prayed with them. After that they 
 sang a last hymn together, and went forth into 
 the night. 
 
 Now when they wero come to the Mount of 
 Olives, they went into a garden there, called 
 Gethsemane, which is, being interpreted, the oil 
 press; for many great olive trees grew therein; 
 and there was also a stone trough, where, in 
 the season, it was the custom to tread out the 
 oil from the ripe fruit. 
 
 It was a calm and peaceful spot, well beloved 
 by the Master as a place of prayer and rest. 
 Overhead the great Passover moon shed a flood 
 of mellow light, which, sifting through the new
 
 T1TU8, A COMRADE OF THE CROSS. 
 
 leaves, lay in silvery patches on the ground 
 beneath. 
 
 As they entered the garden, Jesus said to His 
 disciples, " Sit ye here, while I go and pray yon- 
 der." 
 
 Then taking Peter and James and John, He 
 passed further on among the gnarled trunks of 
 the olives. 
 
 " My soul is exceeding sorrowful, even unto 
 death," He said, at length, His eyes dim with 
 anguish. " Tarry ye here and watch." And the 
 three stopped, as they were bidden, throwing 
 
 Garden of Gethsemane as it appears 
 
 themselves down on the soft spring grass, to 
 wait His pleasure. 
 
 .And He went from them about a stone's cast, 
 and kneeled down; and they heard Him pray- 
 ing. 
 
 " Abba, Father, all things are possible unto 
 thee; if thou be willing, remove this cup from 
 me; nevertheless not my will, but thine be done." 
 
 And as they sat apart, and watched Him there, 
 a confused drowsiness and heaviness of spirit 
 fell upon them, so that they could no longer see 
 nor hear distinctly. They fancied that they dis- 
 cerned dimly the radiant figure of an angel, 
 stooping over that prostrate form or was it but 
 the silver light of the moonbeams falling inter- 
 ruptedly through the branches? Their spirits 
 wore drowned in that strange slumber which 
 held them fast, so that they could not move, 
 though they dimly knew His agony. 
 
 Was it simply the sleep of tired men, or was it 
 
 that Omnipotence deemed the scene too sacred 
 for mortal eyes to look upon? Be that as it may, 
 the Man Jesus sorely longed for human sympa- 
 thy, and when He came His brow crimsoned 
 with the anguish of His soul and found them 
 asleep, He cried with bitter disappointment: 
 
 " What, Simon! Could ye not watch with me 
 one hour? Watch and pray, that ye enter not 
 into temptation." Then He added tenderly: 
 " The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh i j 
 weak." 
 
 Then He went away the second time and 
 prayed, saying: " Oh, 
 my Father, if this cup 
 may not pass away 
 from me, except I 
 drink it. thy will be 
 done!" 
 
 And He came and 
 found them asleep 
 again, for their eyes 
 were heavy; neither 
 could they, when He 
 awoke them in the 
 dim confusion of their 
 senses m a k e Him 
 any answer. 
 
 Verily might He 
 have said, in the 
 words of David: 
 " Thy rebuke hath 
 broken my heart. I 
 am full of heaviness; 
 I looked for some one 
 to have pity on me. 
 but there was no 
 man; neither found I 
 any to comfort me."* 
 And He left them. 
 y ' and went away again 
 
 and prayed the third time, saying the same 
 words. 
 
 Then He came to His disciples, and found 
 them still sleeping; and He looked upon them 
 compassionately and said: " Sleep on now, and 
 take your rest; behold, the hour has drawn near, 
 and the Son of man is betrayed into the hands 
 " of sinners." 
 
 Then He raised Himself up, and listened. in- 
 tently. The hour was even now come; for He 
 heard the sound of tramping feet, and caught 
 the glimmer of torches through the darkness. 
 Turning to the sleepers, He cried aloud, " Rise! 
 Let us be going! Behold, he is at hand that doth 
 betray me." 
 
 " How knowost thou that we shall find Him 
 here?" queried Jochanan impatiently, as he 
 
 *Ps, 63: 30.
 
 TITUS, A COMRADE OP THE CKOSS. 
 
 stumbled along at the side of Judas through the 
 half darkness. 
 
 The man looked up, and by the irregular flame 
 of the torch which he carried, Jochanan caught, 
 the look on his face; and hardened as he was, 
 he recoiled from it. 
 
 " He will be there. I know the place well. He 
 goeth there to pray." 
 
 " Thou knowest that we must lose no time,'' 
 said Jochanan, half apologetically. He had 
 an unaccountable horror of this man. 
 
 " ' What thou doest, do quickly.' They were 
 His words to me," said Judas. 
 
 And again Jochanan felt that icy shiver. 
 "Ugh! The wind is chill!" he said, wrapping 
 his cloak closer about him. 
 
 Judas laughed, long and loud, and muttered 
 something to himself. 
 
 " How shall we be sure of seizing the right 
 man, if we be fortunate enough to find Him?" 
 continued Jochanan. 
 
 The man laughed again, a mirthless sound 
 and terrible to hear. " I shall kiss Him!" he an- 
 swered. 
 
 Jochanan wrapped his cloak still closer about 
 him. " I wish I had compelled Issachar to 
 come," he muttered. " He is too dainty fine, 
 though, for an errand like this." 
 
 Then he spoke no more, save to give a few 
 sharp orders to the irregular mob of Temple 
 police and Roman soldiers, which followed them. 
 
 " This is the place," said Judas at length, 
 pausing before what dimly appeared to be a 
 stone gateway. " Follow where I lead." And 
 he strode away into the uncertain darkness of 
 the garden. 
 
 "The fellow is mad!" said Jochanan impa- 
 tiently to Malchus. " 'Twere impossible to cap- 
 ture the Man in a place like this. He hath a 
 thousand chances to escape." 
 
 But even as he spoke, he caught at the arm of 
 the High Priest's servant. " Who is that, yon- ' 
 der?" 
 
 Malchus looked, and saw in the half darkness 
 the figure of a Man. Did he imagine it? or was 
 there a mysterious brightness a dim shining? 
 Hark! There was a voice! 
 
 " Whom seek ye?" 
 
 All were silent for a moment, save for the hiss 
 of an awed whisper among the superstitious sol- 
 diers. Then Jochanan, gathering courage, said 
 boldly: 
 
 " We seek Jesus of Nazareth." 
 
 And the answer came calm and clear, " I am 
 He." 
 
 Something in that voice struck terror to the 
 cowardly hearts of the mob. Starting back with 
 a common impulse, they stumbled confusedly 
 over one another, with muttered imprecations, 
 and cries of fear. 
 
 Again the voice and the question: " Whom seek 
 ye?" 
 
 And again they made answer: " Jesus of Naz- 
 areth." 
 
 " I have told you that I am He; if therefore ye 
 seek me, let these go their way." That the say- 
 ing might be fulfilled which He spake: " Of 
 them which thou gavest me have I lost none." 
 
 And Judas, peering sharply into the darkness, 
 saw that the other disciples were there also, 
 albeit shrinking fearfully in the background. 
 Then all the old, long-smothered hate and envy 
 burst forth within him. He started forward 
 with a bound like that of a wild animal, and 
 grasping the arm of Jesus, cried aloud, " Hail, 
 Rabbi!" and kissed Him. 
 
 The others looked to see him smitten to the 
 earth; but the Master only said sorrowfully: 
 " Judas, betrayest thou the Son of man with a 
 kiss?" 
 
 At this Peter started forward impetuously. 
 " Lord! shall we smite with the sword?" he 
 cried. And without awaiting the answer, he 
 drew his weapon, and with a fierce but badly 
 aimed blow, struck off the ear of the High 
 Priest's servant, who was advancing to lay hold 
 of Jesus. 
 
 " Peter, put up thy sword into the sheath," 
 said the calm, authoritative voice of the Master. 
 " The cup which my Father hath given me, 
 shall I not drink it? Thinkest thou that I can- 
 not now pray to my Father, and He shall pres- 
 ently give me more than twelve legions of 
 angels? But how then shall the Scriptures be 
 fulfilled, that thus it must be?" 
 
 Then turning to the soldiers, who had grasped 
 Him tightly by the arms, He said: " Suffer ye 
 thus far." And reaching forth His hand, He 
 touched the wounded man, and healed him. 
 
 Jochanan and the officers of the Temple, for- 
 getting their fears, were now crowding about 
 Him with insulting curiosity. To them He said: 
 
 " Are ye come out, as against a thief, with 
 swords and with staves for to take me? I sat 
 daily with you, teaching in the Temple, and ye 
 laid no hold on me. But this is your hour, and 
 the power of darkness." 
 
 When the disciples heard those ill-omened 
 words, they were panic-stricken. Giving one 
 last terrified glance at their Master and Lord, 
 apparently helpless in the brutal grasp of the 
 mob, they all forsook Him and fled. 
 
 Now it chanced that a friendless lad, weary 
 after a long day of wandering, had sunken down 
 in the shelter of the wall to sleep. He had re- 
 moved his outer garment, using it as a coverlet 
 from the cold night dews, and had rolled others 
 of his garments into a pillow for his head. 
 
 Steeped in the heavy slumber of sorrow and 
 loneliness, he had heard nothing of the disturb-
 
 70 
 
 TITUS, A COMBADE OF THE CROSS. 
 
 ance at first; but the triumphant shout as the 
 mob passed out of the gateway aroused him, 
 and a chance word from one of them, brought 
 him to his feet in an instant. 
 
 " The Nazarene "! Could it be! Without stop- 
 ping an instant to reflect, he seized his abba and 
 flinging it over his shoulders, ran after the 
 retreating throng. In a moment he had caught up 
 with them, and the red glare of a torch falling 
 upon him, revealed him plainly to the soldiers, 
 who brought up the rear. Starting forward, one 
 of them seized him by the garment, crying out 
 as he did so: 
 
 " Here is one of them now! Let us take him 
 also." 
 
 But at that, he slipped away, leaving his linen 
 abba in the hands of the soldier, who gaped 
 stupidly after him, as he fled half naked into the 
 darkness. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 here!" commanded Jo- 
 chanan briefly, ringing 
 the bell at the massive 
 portal loudly and im- 
 peratively as he spoke. 
 After some delay, the 
 porter opened the door cau- 
 tiouslyfor it was now late 
 in the night and peered 
 out. 
 
 " Tell thy master to come 
 down quickly!" cried Jo- 
 chanan impatiently, for he was weary. 
 
 " Ah, 'tis thou, worshipful lord!" said the man. 
 " I have orders to admit thee." And he threw 
 the door wide open. 
 
 The Temple officers, together with Malchus 
 and Jochanan; the two soldiers, who were grasp- 
 ing the Prisoner between them; and lastly, the 
 betrayer, Judas, filed into the gateway. The 
 others, obeying the command of Jochanau, 
 waited outside. 
 
 They had scarcely entered the great courtyard 
 when Annas came hastily in. " Thou hast the 
 Man!" he exclaimed joyfully, as his eye fell 
 upon Jesus. '"Tiswell!" 
 
 Then turning to Judas: "Thou art indeed a 
 shrewd fellow, and much to be commended for 
 the discreet way in which thou hast managed 
 this affair. The thirty pieces of silver are thine; 
 take them and begone. We have no further 
 need of thy services." And carelessly tossing a 
 small purse toward the man, he drew nearer 
 the Prisoner, that he might feast his eyes on the 
 welcome sight. 
 Judas stooped, and snatching up the purse 
 
 from the ground, skulked out into the darkness. 
 He had not once looked at Jesus, but he felt 
 those eyes upon him. They were following him. 
 The purse in his bosom burnt like a living coal. 
 " God!" he shrieked aloud. And again and again 
 he shrieked, as he rushed madly on in the black 
 night. His punishment had begun. 
 
 " Thou hast bound the Man most carelessly." 
 said Annas at length, drawing back as he spoke. 
 
 He had intended to make a preliminary exam- 
 ination of the Prisoner; but now he suddenly de- 
 termined that it might be better to wait. He felt 
 strangely shaken and faint. " I am an old 
 man," he thought, "and over- weary; I must 
 spare myself. Besides, there is to me something 
 most unpleasant about the aspect of this Man, 
 though He is quiet enough." 
 
 Then he continued aloud: " See thou to His 
 bonds; make them secure, then remove Him to 
 the house of Caiaphas. I myself will take some 
 refreshment and be there at once." 
 
 " Is it thou, Peter?" said a voice. 
 
 " 'Tis no other. Hark! Have they gone? Where 
 are the rest?" 
 
 " Nay, I know not." said John, sorrowfully. 
 " 'Twas even as He said: 'Smite the shepherd, 
 and the sheep are scattered 'I know not why 
 I fled; 'twas a cowardly act. I am going to seek 
 Him; it may be that they will let Him go in the 
 morning." 
 
 " They will not let Him go in the morning nor 
 at all," said Peter bitterly. 
 
 " But it may be that He will escape out of their 
 hands. He hath the power," said John hope- 
 fully. 
 
 " He hath had the power, but what if He hatli 
 it no longer?" answered Peter. " He hath said 
 many things of late, hard to be understood. Said 
 He not, even now as they bound Him, ' It is your 
 hour and the power of darkness'?" 
 
 John was silent for a moment. Then he said 
 in a firm voice: " I shall find Him; wilt thou go 
 also?" 
 
 " Yes, I will go," answered Peter gloomily. 
 " But what can we do alone? and where wilt 
 thou seek Him?" 
 
 " At the palace of the High Priest. I heard 
 them give the order, as they passed me in the 
 darkness." 
 
 The two men were silent, as they strode rap- 
 idly on towards the city. It was no time for 
 words, and each was absorbed in his own un- 
 happy thoughts. 
 
 " This is the place," said John at length. " We 
 will go in," knocking as he spoke upon the por- 
 tal. 
 
 The door opened almost immediately. Peter 
 shrank back into the darkness.
 
 TITUS, A COMRADE OF THE CROSS. 
 
 71 
 
 " Go thou in," he whispered. " I will wait 
 here; it may be that He is not there." 
 
 John passed in without replying; and Peter 
 heard the portress greet him by name, as she 
 closed the door, 
 
 He leaned back against the stone wall, and the 
 moments dragged slowly by. He was growing 
 weary and cold. He half wished that he had 
 gone in with John. " I will go away," he thought. 
 Then words which he himself had spoken in a 
 happier day, flashed back into his mind: " Lord, 
 to whom shall we go? thou hast the words of 
 eternal life." Where, indeed, should he go! All 
 was gone all lost. 
 
 At this moment the door opened and John 
 came out. Peter saw his face by the light which 
 streamed from the open passage-way; it was 
 pale and grave. 
 
 " He is there," he said. " Even now they are 
 questioning Him before the High Priest. Wilt 
 thou come in?" 
 
 " Yes," answered Peter, " I will go in." 
 
 John spoke briefly with the portress, and she 
 admitted them both, looking curiously at Peter 
 as he passed. " Go in yonder," she said, point- 
 ing with her finger. 
 
 "Ah, there is a fire!" said Peter. " I am cold." 
 Ard without waiting for John, he walked rap- 
 idly toward the cheerful blaze, around which 
 stood a number of persons. 
 
 He shivered as he spread his hands over the 
 fire, and glanced furtively about him. He saw 
 nothing of Jesus; and presently feeling more at 
 his ease, he sat down, as did some of the others. 
 
 They were all talking among themselves. 
 " Hast thou seen Malchus?" said one. 
 
 " Yes, I have seen him." 
 
 " Didst thou know that one of the disciples of 
 the Nazarene smote off his ear?" 
 
 " No! Is it so?" broke in another. 
 
 " He smote it off with a single blow of his 
 sword," continued the speaker. " And the Naz- 
 arene touched the wound, and it was whole." 
 
 " What meanest thou the ear?" 
 
 " In truth, just as it was before the blow was 
 struck." 
 
 "A marvel indeed! But not more wonderful 
 than many other tales they tell of Him." 
 
 " Why do they seize the Man and bring Him 
 hither? What hath He done amiss?" 
 
 " He hath spoken against the priesthood; in 
 my own hearing once, He called them no better 
 than whited sepulchers fair without, but within 
 full of pollution." 
 
 " Little wonder then that they are His ene- 
 mies; He should have been more discreet." 
 
 " Aye; but there is truth in His words," said 
 the first speaker, sinking his voice. " I know 
 many things myself, which, if told, would make 
 a pretty scandal." 
 
 " The truth should not always be spoken," re- 
 plied the other. " Even a lie is useful at times." 
 And the man laughed loudly, with a knowing 
 leer at his companion. 
 
 " Did they seize the fellow who was so ready 
 with bis sword?" said another. 
 
 Peter shrank back a little from the light, and 
 wished himself safely outside. Before anyone 
 had a chance to answer the question, the por- 
 tress sauntered leisurely up to the fire. Her eye 
 at once fell upon Peter; and she said loudly: 
 " Art not thou also one of this Man Jesus' disci- 
 ples?" 
 
 Every one turned hastily. Peter sprang to his 
 feet, shaking with fear. "Woman!" he stam- 
 mered out, " I know Him not; I know not what 
 thou meanest!" 
 
 Then assuming an air of indifference, he saun- 
 tered leisurely out into the passage leading to 
 the street, intending to slip away at the first 
 good opportunity. As he sank down on one of 
 the benches there, to try and collect his scattered 
 thoughts, he heard the distant crowing of a 
 cock. 
 
 " 'Tis near morning," he thought to himself. 
 
 Presently he was startled by a voice: " This 
 fellow was also with Jesus of Nazareth. Marta 
 told me that he came in with the other; and we 
 all know that he is a disciple." 
 
 Peter sprang up with a smothered oath. 
 "What meanest thou, woman! I do not kno\v 
 the Man." 
 
 Then he wandered uneasily back into the 
 courtyard again, though he knew not why he 
 lingered. " I may as well go back to Caper- 
 naum," he said to himself sullenly. " The dream 
 is ended." 
 
 As he leaned against one of the pillars, think- 
 ing thus gloomily within himself, a man came up 
 to him, and flashed the light of a torch which he 
 was holding full in his face. 
 
 " Who art thou?" he asked curiously; then get- 
 ting no answer to his question, he bethought 
 himself that he had seen that face before, and 
 lately. " Dfd I not see thee in the garden with 
 the Nazareue?" he continued. 
 
 " Thou didst not!" answered Peter stoutly. 
 
 " Surely thou art one of them!" insisted the 
 man, who was of kin to Malchus. " For 
 thou art a Galilean; thy speech betrayeth it." 
 
 Stung to frenzy by these words, and a horrible 
 inward consciousness of his perfidy, the 
 wretched man burst out into a torrent of oaths 
 and curses. " I tell thee, I know not this Man of 
 whom ye speak!" And the second time, he 
 heard the crowing of the cock. 
 
 He looked wildly about him that he might 
 escape his tormentors; suddenly he saw that 
 they were bringing his Master, bound and help- 
 less, into the courtyard his Master, whom be
 
 72 
 
 TITUS, A COMRADE OF THE CROSS. 
 
 had vowed to love and to follow, even to prison 
 and to death! And Jesus turned and looked 
 upon him; that look sank deep into the soul of 
 Peter. He remembered the word of the Lord, 
 how He had said unto him: "Before the cock 
 crow twice, thou shalt deny me thrice." And he 
 went out, and wept bitterly. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 ELL us now of thy 
 disciples, and o f 
 thy doctrines 
 which Thou hast been 
 teaching the people. 
 Thou mayst as well 
 make full confession; it 
 will assuredly imperil 
 thy cause to keep back 
 anything from us at 
 this time." 
 
 The Sanhedrim* was 
 already in solemn ses- 
 sion, though it was 
 scarcely dawn. In the 
 midst of the semicircle 
 sat Caiaphas in the full 
 dignity of his priestly 
 robes. On his right was 
 Annas, on his left 
 .Tochanan, and the others in the order of their 
 official rank. Before them, His hands bound be- 
 hind His back, and closely guarded on either 
 side by the Temple police, stood Jesus. 
 "Answer me, fellow!" said Caiaphas sternly. 
 The Prisoner raised His eyes, and looked full 
 at the High Priest. 
 
 " I have spoken openly to the world," He said 
 calmly. " I taught ever in the synagogue, and 
 in the Temple, whither the Jews always resort, 
 and in secret have I said nothing. Why askest 
 thou me? Ask them which heard me, what I 
 have said unto them; behold, they know what I 
 said." 
 
 " Answerest thou the High Priest so?" said 
 one of the men who stood by Him. And as he 
 spoke the words, he struck Him upon the mouth. 
 For a moment the Prisoner was silent. Then 
 He said calmly, as before, with no sign of pas- 
 sion at the foul insult: " If I have spoken evil, 
 bear witness of the evil; but if well, why sfliitest 
 thou me?" 
 
 " He asketh for witnesses," said Annas with a 
 sneer. " Let them be brought." 
 There was a little stir, as one of the Temple 
 
 *The supreme council of the Jewish people in the time 
 of Christ 
 
 officials entered, followed by a small, wizened 
 old man. 
 
 " Dost thou know the Prisoner?" asked Caia- 
 phas. 
 
 " I do, reverend lord," answered the man in a 
 high, quavering voice. " He is a Galilean car- 
 penter, name Jesus' He is a brawler, and is 
 always surrounded by crowds." 
 
 "What knowest thou of His teachings?" said 
 Annas with a gratified smile. 
 
 " He saith pernicious things, my lord! I, my- 
 self, heard Him say to the multitude, Beware of 
 the Scribes, and especially of the High Priests, 
 for they care for nothing so much as to go about 
 in long robes, and have the best of everything. 
 They make long prayers for a show, and at the 
 same time devour the widows and fatherless. 
 They are hypocrites and fools, and shall be 
 thrust into hell, with all that follow their words. 
 What say ye to that, my good lords? Those 
 be His teachings!" 
 
 A fierce murmur ran about the circle. 
 
 " 'Tis true! I heard something like it myself!" 
 came from one and another. 
 
 The old man was elated by the sensation 
 which he had made. Turning his rheumy eyes 
 upon the Prisoner, he pointed at Him a skinny, 
 shaking finger. " Ha, fellow! thou didst heal 
 me, three years ago, of the palsy, which had 
 withered my limbs; and in so doing took away 
 my living, for my begging no longer brought me 
 money. They told me to work! Yes, work! an 
 old man like me! Now is not that a shame, mi- 
 good lords? I led a gay life, at ease on my bed; 
 but now I must needs work, or starve, for thou 
 madest me an old man as strong as an ox." 
 
 " Take him away!" commanded Caiaphas. 
 And he was led out, still gesticulating, and talk- 
 ing in his high, shrill voice. 
 
 After that followed in rapid succession a num- 
 ber of other witnesses, who were examined- at 
 some length by Caiaphas, but without eliciting 
 anything of importance. 
 
 At last, when Annas and the others were be- 
 ginning to despair of an acceptable pretext to 
 put the Prisoner to death, two witnesses were 
 brought in. 
 
 " We were together when this Man spoke in 
 the Temple," said one of them, " and we heard 
 him say, I will destroy this Temple that is built 
 with hands, and within three days I will build 
 another, made without hands." 
 
 " Nay!" said the other, " thou art wrong! He 
 said, If ye destroy this Temple, which ye were 
 forty and three years in building, I will restore 
 it in three days." 
 
 " Well, is not that the same thing?" exclaimed 
 the first contemptuously. 
 
 " Not at all," cried the other, with heat. 
 " Thou hast the ears of an ass."
 
 TITUS, A COMRADE OF THE CROSS. 
 
 73 
 
 "Is this the place for your disputings ?" said 
 Caiaphas, angrily. " Officer, remove these wit- 
 nesses!" 
 
 Then he rose to his feet, and fixing his eyes 
 upon Jesus, who still stood calmly and quietly 
 in His place, he said sternly: " Answerest thou 
 nothing? What is it that these witness against 
 thee?" 
 
 But He seemed not to have heard the ques- 
 tion. From His eyes shone a strange bright- 
 ness, a holy calm. Was He thinking that the 
 hour was even now at hand for the fulfillment of 
 His words? 
 
 The High Priest looked at Him steadily, and 
 said in a loud and solemn voice: " I adjure thee 
 by the living God, that thou tell us whether thou 
 be the Christ, the Son of God." 
 
 Then the Prisoner, the despised Nazarene, His 
 hands bound, His garments torn and defiled 
 with violence, the mark of the insulting blow still 
 visible on His white face, made him answer: " I 
 am the Christ, the Son of God. And I say unto 
 you, that hereafter ye shall see the Son of Man 
 sitting on the right hand of power, and coming 
 in the clouds of heaven." 
 
 Then did the High Priest rend his garments, 
 and he cried aloud saying: " He hath spoken 
 blasphemy! What further need have we of wit- 
 nesses? Behold, now ye have heard His blas- 
 phemy; what think ye?" 
 
 And they all answered, as with one voice: 
 " He is guilty! Let Him die." 
 
 Then they led Him away to a room underneath 
 in the palace; and there did the servants, and 
 the hirelings of the Temple, gather themselves 
 together, that they might look upon Him who 
 was condemned to die. And they struck Him 
 with the palms of their hands, and spit upon 
 Him, crying out: " This is He that shall sit in 
 the clouds of heaven ! Behold Him! The Christ 
 the Messiah the Worker of miracles!" 
 
 Then did one of them cast a garment over His 
 head, so that it covered His face; and they 
 began to buffet Him, calling out: " Prophesy 
 unto us, thou prophet of Galilee! Who smote 
 thee?" 
 
 And these things they did until they were 
 weary. 
 
 Now when Caiaphas passed out of the council 
 chamber, he went into an inner room of the pal- 
 ace, that he might eat and refresh himself be- 
 fore going with the Prisoner to Pilate. And 
 there Anna, his wife, found him. 
 
 " What hast thou done to the Nazarene?" she 
 asked; and her face was white, and her eyes had 
 a strange fire in them. 
 
 " We have found Him guilty, even as I knew. 
 He shall shortly be delivered into the hand of 
 
 the Governor," said Caiaphas. " I am weary," 
 he continued irritably, " and care not to speak 
 of the thing with thee. Thou art a woman, 
 and knowest naught of affairs of state. Leave 
 me!" 
 
 " Nay, I will not leave thee, till I have said 
 what I will," answered Anna. " The Man is a 
 prophet; and curses will come upon this house, if 
 thou dost persist in persecuting Him." 
 
 " Woman!" cried Caiaphas, starting to his feet, 
 " the Man is a blasphemer! But lately in my 
 presence He solemnly affirmed that He was the 
 Christ, the Son of God, and would hereafter sit 
 on the right hand of power!" 
 
 " Oh, Joseph, my husband!" cried Anna, shud- 
 dering, " what if it be so! Release Him, I be- 
 seech of thee; and let Him go into His own 
 country." 
 
 " Thou art a woman, and therefore a fool!" 
 said Caiaphas, with bitter emphasis. " Again I 
 tell thee to leave me!" 
 
 " Speakest thou so to the daughter of Annas!" 
 cried his wife, with flashing eyes. " I will leave 
 thee! But thou shalt yet remember my warning, 
 and weep tears of blood that thou hast trodden 
 it under foot." And she turned, and swept 
 stately from the chambeiy 
 
 It was still early in the morning when an im- 
 posing deputation, with Jesus, bound and 
 doubly guarded, in their midst, waited upon 
 Pilate the Governor. 
 
 " It is not lawful for us to enter into the pal- 
 ace, lest we be defiled," said Caiaphas, " there- 
 fore bid Pilate come forth unto us." 
 
 And Pilate, knowing full well the temper of 
 the people with whom he had to deal, complied 
 at once. It was, moreover, in accordance with 
 the Roman custom to hold courts of justice in 
 the open air; so that there was in front of the 
 palace, for this purpose, a raised tribunal, 
 known as the Pavement, since it was laid with 
 a mosaic of many-colored marbles. Here then 
 Pilate caused them to place his curule chair of 
 wrought ivory the seat of state, and the sign 
 of his office and here he sat himself down. 
 
 And they brought Jesus, and set Him before 
 the Governor, his accusers ranging themselves 
 on either side; while a great multitude, which 
 momently increased as the tidings of the arrest 
 flew from mouth to mouth, surged uneasily up to 
 the very edges of the tribunal, where they were 
 kept at bay by a strong detachment of Roman 
 troops. 
 
 Now Pilate was not altogether ignorant con- 
 cerning Jesus. Always fearful of insurrections 
 among the people, he had, by means of spies, 
 kept close watch of His movements. He knew 
 that His teachings had nothing of political
 
 74 
 
 TITUS, A COMRADE OF THE CROSS. 
 
 significance in them, and that He had 
 studiously avoided all popular excitement. He 
 was, therefore, disposed to befriend the Pris- 
 oner, more especially as he saw through the shal- 
 low pretense of the Jewish dignitaries, to the 
 real source of their hatred of the Man. So that it 
 was with some acerbity that he put his first 
 question to the High Priest, who headed the 
 deputation from the Sanhedrim: 
 
 " What accusation bring ye against this 
 Man?" 
 
 " If He were not a malefactor," answered 
 Caiaphas, haughtily, " we would not have deliv- 
 ered Him up unto thee." 
 
 " I know something of this Jesus, and I can 
 understand your motives in bringing Him to 
 me," said Pilate, with a covert sneer. " But it 
 hardly seemeth a case for my interference. 
 Take ye Him and judge Him according to your 
 .law." 
 
 " The charge which we bring against this Man 
 is not so trifling as thou seemest to think," an- 
 swered Caiaphas, his voice shaking with anger. 
 " He is worthy of death on a criminal charge. 
 We have so found Him. But it is not lawful for 
 us to put any man to death." 
 
 "What then hath He done?" asked Pilate in 
 a tone of polite endurance. 
 
 " He hath striven to lead away the nation 
 after Him, forbidding to pay tribute to Caesar, 
 and declaring that He, Himself, is Christ the 
 rightful King," said Caiaphas, an evil light in 
 his eyes. 
 
 To this accusation all the Jewish authorities 
 assented with loud cries. They looked to see 
 Pilate roused from his apathy by this charge 
 the most damning of all in the ears of a Roman 
 Governor and ready to make quick work 
 of the hated Nazarene. But they were disap- 
 pointed. With no perceptible change in his face, 
 he arose deliberately from his seat, and, order- 
 ing the guard to bring the Prisoner, strode into 
 the Judgment Hall. 
 
 When he had sat himself down, he said to 
 Jesus: " Art thou the King of the Jews?" 
 
 " Sayest thou this thing of thyself?" answered 
 the Prisoner, " or did others tell it thee of me?" 
 
 " Am I a Jew?" said Pilate scornfully. " Thine 
 own nation and the chief priests have delivered 
 thee unto me. What hast thou done?" 
 
 And Jesus, looking full into his face, made an- 
 swer: " My kingdom is not of this world; if my 
 kingdom were of this world, then would my ser- 
 vants fight, that I should not be delivered to the 
 Jews. But now is my kingdom not from hence." 
 
 "Art thou a king then?" said Pilate, staring 
 at Him curiously. 
 
 " Thou sayest it; I am a King," He answered. 
 " To this end was I born, and for this cause 
 came I into the world, that I should bear wit- 
 
 ness unto the truth. Every one that is of the 
 truth heareth my voice." 
 
 "Truth!" said Pilate, with a light, ironical 
 laugh. " What is truth?" 
 
 'Twas a mere word, an empty sound, to this 
 Roman voluptuary. 
 
 Then he arose from his seat without further 
 question or comment, and went out again to the 
 tribunal, where the Jewish dignitaries were 
 awaiting him in a state of anger which bor- 
 dered on frenzy. 
 
 Pilate looked at them scornfully; he thoroughly 
 despised them, but it would not do for them to 
 see that too plainly. He sat himself down, and 
 waited a moment for the fierce murmuring to 
 cease, then he declared in a loud, firm voice: 
 
 " I find in Him no fault at all." 
 
 It was an acquittal! Must all their carefully 
 prepared schemes fall to the ground? Must 
 they see the Man escape out of their very 
 clutches? Never! After the first wave of in- 
 dignant rage had spent itself, one after another 
 of the chief priests and elders arose to speak, 
 each vying with the others in the variety and 
 virulence of the charges which they heaped 
 upon the Prisoner, who had been brought 
 back from the Judgment Hall, and was standing 
 in His old place in the midst. 
 
 " Dost thou hear how many things these wit- 
 ness against thee?" said Pilate, addressing Him. 
 " Why dost thou not defend thyself? Thou hast 
 my permission." 
 
 But Jesus was silent. 
 
 Pilate shook his head. " He is a strange Man." 
 he thought to himself. " Now is the time and 
 the place for some of His eloquence, of which I 
 have heard so much. He is a fool not to put 
 these fellows down. In truth I would assist 
 Him gladly." 
 
 Jochanan was speaking, though Pilate was 
 giving him but scant attention. But now a sen- 
 tence caught his ear. 
 
 " He stirreth up the people throughout all 
 Jewry, beginning from Galilee to this place." 
 
 " Galilee!" exclaimed Pilate. An idea had 
 struck him. " Didst thou say that He is a Gali- 
 lean?" 
 
 " He is, your Excellency," replied Jochanan. 
 
 " Very well then. I shall send Him to Herod. 
 He is even now in the city, and it were most 
 fitting that he should judge a man from his own 
 province." 
 
 He arose from his seat, and gave the necessary 
 orders, then retired to his palace, feeling well 
 pleased with himself for this master-stroke of 
 diplomacy. " By this means," he thought com- 
 placently, " I shall rid myself of all further 
 trouble in this matter, which is likely to be un- 
 pleasant enough. Moreover, it will flatter 
 Herod, and I shall thus be able to appease bis
 
 TITUS, A COMRADE OF THE CROSS. 
 
 75 
 
 wrath /or that little affair in the Temple."* And 
 he commanded his slaves to bring him refresh- 
 ments. 
 
 " Didst thou say that Pilate had sent me the 
 Nazarene for judgment?" asked Herod, starting 
 up from the purple cushions where he was loll- 
 ing, sick with ennui, in the Asmonean Palace. 
 "Nay, but that is good news! I have always 
 wished to see the fellow! He shall perform a 
 miracle for me, such as I have heard of. He 
 shall make me some choice wine from water- 
 heal this sore on my limb, and well, I shall 
 think of other things afterward. Bring Him 
 into our presence at once. And, stay! call the 
 court together; 'twere meet to provide some 
 amusement to relieve the deadly tedium of this 
 place. So that is the Man!" as they brought in 
 Jesus and set Him in the royal presence, the 
 High Priests and elders, regardless now of de- 
 filement, crowding in after Him. "And who 
 are these?" 
 
 " These are the chiefs of the Jewish nation," 
 one made answer. 
 
 " Let them stand back out of my way! I wish 
 to talk to the Man, myself," said Herod impa- 
 tiently. 
 
 He had no idea of conducting a trial, but only 
 of amusing himself and the throng of whisper- 
 ing, tittering courtiers who were gathered about 
 him. So he began to ask questions of the Pris- 
 oner. " What was His name?" though he knew 
 well enough. " Could He really work miracles, 
 as people said? and if He could, would He not 
 work one now?" 
 
 But the Prisoner was silent. 
 
 Herod was at first rather flattered by this. 
 "He feareth us," he said patronizingly. " Nay, 
 fellow, I will do thee no harm; I only wish to 
 see thee perform. Do not fear to speak. Thou 
 shalt have wine if thou wilt Give Him some." 
 
 But He refused, with a gesture, the proffered 
 cup, and remained silent as before. 
 
 Then did His accusers, one and all, break 
 forth into angry denunciations. 
 
 " He saith that He is a king, doth He?" quoth 
 Herod, languidly interrupting them. " Well, He 
 doth not look much like it. If He will not per- 
 form for us, we will even make some sport out 
 of Him. What is the royal color of the Jews? 
 For truth to tell, I have forgotten it." 
 
 The Jews were angrily silent; but one of the 
 courtiers volunteered the information: " 'Tis 
 white, your Highness." 
 
 "White, is it? Then let a white robe bo 
 
 *During one of the numerous petty disturbances in 
 Jerusalem, Pilate had let loose his soldiers and they had 
 slain a number of Galilean pilgrims, pursuing them into 
 the Temple itself, and cutting them down at the very altar. 
 By so doing he had incurred the enmity of Herod, 
 
 brought, and put it on Him. 'Tis not meet that 
 a king should be so poorly attired." 
 
 Then they fetched a white robe, and threw it 
 over His humble Jewish dress. 
 
 " Now, good sirs," said Herod, turning his 
 eyes wickedly upon the members of the Sanhe- 
 drim, " doth He not look majestic? A king in- 
 deed! Let all do Him homage." 
 
 And the courtiers and soldiers pressed forward 
 in mock adulation. 
 
 But Herod, watching from his chair of state, 
 saw something in the aspect of the Prisoner 
 which made him feel uncomfortable. " He hath 
 a look which I like not," he muttered, " nor yet 
 this silence; 'tis unnatural. Suppose He should 
 do some awful thing now; they say that He hath 
 unlimited powers." 
 
 With an imperative gesture, he summoned one 
 of his officers. "Take the fellow away!" he 
 said. " Take Him back to Pilate." 
 
 " Shall we take off the robe, your Highness?" 
 asked the man. 
 
 "No, no!" answered Herod, hastily. "Take 
 Him just as He is and quickly. Clear the 
 room of all these," indicating the Jews with a 
 sweeping gesture. 
 
 So it happened that Pilate was once again 
 called forth into the judgment seat, and con- 
 fronted with Jesus. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 T was with a frowning brow 
 that the Governor again 
 seated himself in his ivory 
 chair of state. " Ye have 
 brought this Man unto me," 
 he said, " as one that per- 
 verteth the people; and, be- 
 hold, I, having examined 
 Him before you, have found 
 no fault In Him touching those things whereof 
 ye accuse Him. No, nor yet Herod; for I sent 
 you to him with the Prisoner; and, lo! he hath 
 sent Him back to me uncondemned. I will 
 therefore scourge Him and let Him go." 
 
 He said this, hoping that the scourging, a ter- 
 rible punishment in itself, might appease the 
 wrath of the Jews. 
 
 The multitude, which now numbered thous- 
 andsand, as Pilate saw, of the lowest and 
 most debased portion of the population gave a 
 savage, inarticulate cry, like that 'of a wild 
 beast. 
 
 "What do they say?" asked Pilate, speaking 
 to the Roman official who stood beside him. 
 
 " Release! Release unto us a prisoner!" re- 
 plied the man.
 
 76 
 
 TITUS, A COMRADE OF THE CROSS. 
 
 " Tney are right!" said Pilate, bethinking him- 
 self joyfully of the time-honored custom of re- 
 leasing a prisoner to the people at Feast time. 
 And he arose and cried aloud: " Will ye that I 
 release unto you the King of the Jews?" 
 
 Now it happened that the chief priests knew 
 of the condemnation of Barabbas, and how he 
 lay bound in the dungeons of Antonia, sentenced 
 to suffer crucifixion on that very day, which was 
 the fifteenth of Nisan. 
 
 So Jochanan, and other wise ones of their 
 number, mixing with the multitude, craftily 
 brought to their remembrance how Barabbas 
 was about to suffer for his loyalty to the nation. 
 And when the multitude heard their words, they 
 began, with one accord, to yell: " Barabbas! 
 Barabbas!" till the whole city was aroused, and 
 thousands more came running to the palace to 
 see what had happened. And all joined in the 
 cry for Barabbas. 
 
 Then Pilate said unto them: " What shall I do 
 then with Jesus, who is called Christ?" 
 
 The chief priests answered: " Let Him be 
 crucified!" 
 
 And the mob, mad with excitement, and thirst- 
 ing for blood, echoed with a cry which has rung 
 adown the ages: "Crucify Him! Crucify Him! 
 Away with Him! Crucify Him!" 
 
 At this moment one of the officials handed to 
 Pilate an ivory tablet with something written 
 thereon. And he read this warning message 
 from his wife: 
 
 " Have thou nothing to do with that just Man ; for I 
 have suffered many things this day in a dream be- 
 cause of Him. CLAUDIA." 
 
 Then, more anxious than ever to save Him, he 
 said unto them for the third time: " Why, what 
 evil hath He done? I have found no cause of 
 death in Him; I will therefore chastise Him, and 
 let Him go." 
 
 But the chief priests saw that he feared the 
 people; and again they raised the cry: " Crucify 
 Him! Crucify Him!" And again the multitude 
 echoed the words with their hideous yells. 
 
 Pilate looked out from his throne over that 
 threatening mob, and his heart was as wax 
 within him. " I cannot save the Man!" he mut- 
 tered. " 'Tis too late. And what doth it mat- 
 ter, after all one Jew less in Jerusalem." 
 
 " Bring me water in a basin!" he commanded. 
 
 And when it was brought, he stood up and 
 washed his hands in the sight of them all, say- 
 ing solemnly, " I am innocent of the blood of 
 this just person. See ye to it." 
 
 And all the people answered him with the 
 awful words: " His blood be upon us, and upon 
 our children!" 
 
 Then he released unto them Barabbas, and 
 commanded that Jesus should be scourged and 
 afterward crucified. 
 
 Barabbas came forth out of the prison; and 
 when he heard what had been done, he said 
 scornfully to his fellows: " Said I not that the 
 man was a coward!" 
 
 Now Pilate, the trial being ended, went into 
 his palace with a heavy heart. And as he was 
 seeking to withdraw himself into an inner room, 
 he came upon his wife, Claudia. 
 
 " Didst thou receive the warning I sent thee?" 
 she asked. 
 
 " I received it; but it was too late," said Pilate, 
 faltering. 
 
 " Too late!" exclaimed Claudia. " What mean- 
 est thou? Is the Man dead?" 
 
 " No. He still liveth, but well I I have sen- 
 tenced Him to the cross. They are even now 
 scourging Him. I could not help it! Thou 
 shouldst have seen the mob it was frightful! 
 And those cries they ring in my ears still!" 
 And the wretched man pressed his hands to his 
 head wildly. 
 
 Claudia looked at him with wide, glassy eyes. 
 Her face was ghastly. " Thou hast condemned 
 Him ?" she whispered hoarsely, " and to the 
 cross! Then may the gods help us! We are un- 
 done!" And she fled away wildly, leaving Pilate 
 alone. 
 
 Then the soldiers took Jesus, and when they 
 had stripped Him of His upper garments, they 
 bound Him to a low pillar, so that His back 
 was bowed. And they took scourges, made of 
 heavy thongs of leather, weighted at the ends 
 with jagged pieces of iron, and they beat Him 
 upon His naked back until they were weary. 
 Then they lifted Him up, and putting on Him 
 again the white robe with which Herod had 
 mocked Him, they dragged Him into the Judg- 
 ment Hall. And the whole band came together 
 to look at Him there. 
 
 "Let us worship Him!" cried one, "even as 
 did Herod." 
 
 The saying pleased them. Stripping off the 
 white robe which Herod had put on Him white 
 no longer, for it was crimsoned with His blood 
 they clothed Him with an old scarlet mantle,* 
 which belonged to one of them. Then one run- 
 ning out, brought in branches of the thorn tree, 
 and they made of the branches a crown, and 
 drove it down about His temples; and they put 
 a reed in His hand for a sceptre. Then they 
 laughed aloud, as they looked upon Him, till the 
 hall echoed with the horrid sound; and bowing 
 the knee, they cried, " Hail! King of the Jews!" 
 Snatching the sceptre from His pinioned hands, 
 they smote Him on the head with it. And they 
 spit in His face. 
 
 *Scarlet or purple; the two colors are often confounded. 
 The garment referred to was probably the Suguru, or short 
 woolen military cloak. 
 
 v
 
 TITUS, A COMRADE OF THE CROSS. 
 
 77 
 
 In the midst of this their brutal sport, Pilate 
 came upon them. 
 
 "Bring Him forth!" he commanded savagely. 
 And he went out again to the judgment seat, 
 being minded yet to save the Man, for the sake 
 of his wife Claudia, and because he, himself, 
 feared he knew not what. 
 
 He stood up before the multitude, which had 
 grown so great that he could see nothing but 
 one mighty sea of faces, upturned to look upon 
 him as he stood above them there. And he 
 pointed to Jesus standing beside him, wearing 
 .the scarlet cloak and the crown of thorns, His 
 face stained with blood and befouled with in- 
 sult, His eyes dim with agony, yet withal trans- 
 figured into something so divine that Pilate cried 
 with genuine pity and reverence in his tones, 
 " Behold the Man!" 
 
 It was as if he wo\ild have said: See Him so 
 agonized and yet so innocent! Hath He not 
 suffered enough? Will ye not pity Him and save 
 Him? 
 
 But the chief priests and officers of the Tem- 
 ple were mad for His blood; they had waited 
 for over three hours in the blazing sun, for Him 
 to be brought forth unto them. Pilate's appeal, 
 and the piteous look of the Prisoner, only added 
 fresh fuel to the flame which was devouring 
 them. 
 
 " Crucify Him!" they .yelled hoarsely. And 
 again and again, "Crucify Him!" 
 
 Then said Pilate in a sudden rage: " Take ye 
 Him and crucify Him; for I find no fault in 
 Him." 
 
 But the Jews, will'ng to justify themselves in 
 the sight of the multitude, answered him: " We 
 have a law, and by our law He ought to die; 
 because He made Himself the Son of God." 
 
 When Pilate heard that saying he feared ex- 
 ceedingly; and again he remembered the ghastly 
 face of Claudia, as she said: " We are undone." 
 He turned and strode once more into the Judg- 
 ment Hall, commanding the guard to bring the 
 Prisoner. 
 
 " Whence art thou?" he demanded of Jesus. 
 
 But the Prisoner made him no answer. What 
 use to answer this man, who was too cowardly 
 a creature to free Him whom he had thrice 
 acquitted! 
 
 " Speakest thou not unto me?" said Pilate 
 fiercely, glad of an excuse for anger. " Knowest 
 thou not that I have power to crucify thee, and 
 have power to release thee?" 
 
 And Jesus, seeing the dark tumult in his 
 breast, pitied him. " Thou couldst have no power 
 at all against me," He said, breaking the silence 
 of many bitter hours. " Therefore he that de- 
 livered me to thee, hath the greater sin." 
 
 And Pilate trembled before Him. 
 
 Then went he forth, yet again, to the people, 
 
 and spake to them as best he knew how, for the 
 release of the Man whom he had thrice ac- 
 quitted, and twice condemned. 
 
 And they despised him and tis words, and 
 cried out, saying: "If thou let this Man go, 
 thou art not Caesar's friend." 
 
 When Pilate heard the name Caesar, his soul 
 was shaken within him, for he remembered 
 many things with fear. And he commanded 
 them to bring Jesus forth before the judgment 
 seat; and he said unto them, " Behold your 
 King!" 
 
 But they cried out, "Away with Him! Away 
 with Him! Crucify Him!" 
 
 "What!" cried Pilate. "Shall I crucify your 
 king?" 
 
 The chief priests answered, " We have no 
 king but Csesar!" 
 
 And with that word of power, they beat down 
 the last feeble barrier of his will. 
 
 " Take Him!" he cried, hoarsely. " Take Him, 
 and crucify Him. His blood be upon you!" 
 
 And they took Jesus and led Him away. 
 
 When the multitude saw that He was deliv- 
 ered up to be crucified, they gave a mighty and 
 fierce cry. And the sound of it rang throughout 
 the city, and the women and children shook with 
 fear when they heard it; it echoed in dismal 
 reverberations in the courts of the shining Tem- 
 ple, and rolled away away upward upward, 
 till its dying sound reached even the throne of 
 God, and the angels which stand ever before 
 the throne hid their faces. 
 
 Now a man who wore the semblance of a wild 
 beast had been hanging about the outskirts of 
 the multitude for hours. Ever and anon he tore 
 his hair, and his garments which hung in 
 shreds about him; and he raved, and cursed, 
 and cut himself with stones. But the people 
 heeded him not. " He hath a devil," they said. 
 " He seeketh the Nazarene, mayhap; but he 
 must needs help himself now." 
 
 And when the man heard that word, he shook 
 the matted hair from out his eyes. " What will 
 they do with Him?" he asked. 
 
 And they answered, " They are taking Him 
 even now to be crucified." 
 
 At that, the man gave a great cry, and thrust- 
 ing his fingers into his ears, ran swiftly away. 
 And when he came to the Temple he went in. 
 still running, nor could anyone stop him; so that 
 he came even to the place where were certain 
 of the chief priests and elders, who had gathered 
 together that they might rejoice over the murder 
 which they had accomplished. 
 
 And the man cast down before them thirty 
 pieces of silver, and shrieked out in a woeful 
 voice: " I have sinned, in that I have betrayed 
 the innocent blood!" 
 
 And the chief priests and elders feared, when
 
 78 
 
 TITUS, A COMRADE OF THE CROSS. 
 
 they looked upon thje man. But Annas an- 
 swered: "What is that to us? See thou to 
 that!" 
 
 And he fled away from the Temple, and going 
 out of the city to the garden which is called 
 Gethsemane, he hung himself there; that he 
 might die in the place where he had betrayed 
 the Son of God with a kiss. 
 
 " And the chief priests took the silver pieces 
 and said, It is not lawful to put them into the 
 treasury, because it is the price of blood. And 
 they took counsel, and bought with them the 
 potter's field, to bury strangers in. Wherefore 
 that field was called The field of blood, unto 
 this day." 
 
 CHAPTEH XXIX. 
 
 EAVY-HEAIITED, 
 Titus awoke on 
 the morning of the 
 fifteenth of Nisan. 
 This was the day! 
 He stared with 
 wide, unseeing 
 eyes at the wall 
 of his dungeon, 
 and muttered 
 again and again, 
 "This is the day! 
 This is the day! 
 This is the day!" 
 
 Presently h e 
 heard a sound. 
 Were they corning 
 even now to take 
 him! He started to 
 his feet, and crouched shuddering in the furthest 
 corner of his dungeon. No, 'twas only the bread 
 and water, thrust in by the rough hand of his 
 jailer. He drank greedily of the water; but the 
 sight of the food sickened him. 
 
 Then he gave himself up to the agony of listen- 
 ing. The untended wound in his head had fes- 
 tered, and his veins ran hot with fever. He half 
 forgot for what he was listening, as the hours 
 dragged slowly on; and when, at last, the great 
 bolts turned rustily in their sockets, and the 
 door was thrown open, he started up with crim- 
 son cheeks and a light, blood-curdling laugh. 
 " Thou hast come at last!" he said airily. 
 The centurion stared at him. " Bring him out 
 quickly!" he commanded, "and bind upon him 
 the cross." 
 
 " What!" said one of the soldiers. " Shall we 
 not first scourge him?" 
 " Nay," said his superior. " 'Twas not so 
 
 ordered. Besides, we must hasten; they must 
 
 - .... . . . . ^ . , . . 
 
 all be dead by the going down of the sun; and 
 it is already near the sixth hour." 
 
 Quickly they bound upon his back the trans- 
 verse pieces of the cross,* and hurried him out 
 from the prison gate. As the fresh air smote 
 him, his dazed senses cleared a little. He saw 
 that Dumachus, also bearing the ominous pieces 
 of wood, and similarly guarded by four soldiers, 
 was waiting in the courtyard. He had been 
 scourged, as his blood-stained garments wit- 
 nessed, and was blubbering and blaspheming 
 under his breath. 
 
 " Ha, Jew!" he yelled hoarsely, as he caught 
 sight of Titus. "Now, indeed, lookest thou the' 
 son of the High Priest!" 
 
 But the centurion smote him on the mouth, and 
 bade him be silent. 
 
 Under the escort of a strong detachment of 
 legionaries, the two cross-bearers were marched 
 rapidly forward. Not far from the prison, they 
 came to a halt. 
 
 "Why did they not bring him to Antonia?" 
 said one of the soldiers in a low voice. 
 
 " He hath but just been condemned; there was 
 no time. They will join us here," said another. 
 " Hark! They are coming now. Dost hear the 
 roaring of the mob?" 
 
 Then came the slow, measured tramping of 
 soldiers; a few sharp, quick orders; and again 
 they moved forward. 
 
 They had reached the city gate, and were 
 about to pass through, when again came the 
 order to halt. 
 
 "What is it?" asked one of the soldiers who 
 guarded Titus. 
 
 " The fellow hath fallen under his cross," an- 
 swered a man who was perched aloft. " They 
 have caught a stout countryman, who but just 
 came in, and have bound it upon him. Thou 
 shouldst see his face!" And he burst into a 
 great laugh. 
 
 Outside the gate a seething mass of humanity! 
 On either side of the road the people stood 
 packed in serried ranks; they clustered In dense 
 masses on roofs, and walls, and trees. Titus 
 looked, and his brain reeled. Had all these 
 come out to see the torture of three wretched 
 thieves? for so read his accusation which was 
 bound in staring letters on his breast. 
 
 Amid the savage, unceasing roar of the mul- 
 titude he could hear the shrill wailing of women. 
 And now another sound caught his ear; 'twas a 
 voice which he had thought never to hear again: 
 " Father! Titus! Jesus!" shrieked the voice. 
 He caug'it a glimpse of a white face as it fell 
 back into the crowd. 
 
 For the first time he struggled fiercely with 
 his bonds. " Let me go!" he screamed. 
 
 "The upright beam being already at the place of execu- 
 tion.
 
 TITUS, A COMRADE OF THE CROSS. 
 
 79 
 
 " Hold thy peace, thief!" said the centurion 
 savagely. " Save thy shrieks for thy cross! 1 ' 
 And he smote him on the head with the flat of 
 his sword. 
 
 After weeks of fruitless search and forlorn 
 wandering, Stephen had reached Jerusalem. He 
 had determined to go to Caiaphas and give into 
 his hand the embroidered tunic, and tell him all 
 that he knew of Titus. Ragged, hungry and 
 footsore, he had knocked at the great gate of the 
 palace, and been refused entrance by the por- 
 tress. 
 
 " See the High Priest, indeed!" she had said 
 scornfully. " Go thy way, beggar !" 
 
 " But indeed," persisted Stephen, " I must see 
 him. 'Tis a matter of the sorest need." 
 
 " Well, thou shalt not come in, for all of that. 
 Thy urgent business can wait!" And with a loud 
 laugh of derision she had slammed the heavy 
 door in his face. 
 
 Then he had wandered away to the Temple, 
 with the vague hope of seeing the man he 
 sought. 
 
 " Where is the High Priest?" he inquired inno- 
 cently of one of the Temple police. 
 
 " The High Priest, beggar! What dost thou 
 want of him?" said the man. 
 
 "I must speak with him; and I cannot gaiu 
 admittance at his house." 
 
 " Canst thou not!" said the man derisively. 
 " 'Tis a wonder! They should have urged thee 
 to come in, and given thee the best room!" 
 
 Stephen looked steadily at the man, while a 
 slight flush rose to his cheek. " I am not a beg- 
 gar," he said. " Though 'tis like enough that I 
 look one. But I must see the High Priest; I 
 vould tell him of his son." 
 
 " His son!" echoed the man. " Thou art mad! 
 He hath no son. Go thy way. Thou canst not 
 see the High Priest. 'Tis a notable day with 
 Caiaphas, and indeed with all of us, for to-night 
 we eat the Passover; and to-day we shall see a 
 great sight the Nazarene is to be crucified." 
 
 " The Nazarene!" said Stephen wildly. " Cru- 
 cified! Oh, it cannot cannot be!" 
 
 " But it can be, my impudent young beggar! 
 All the city will be there to see it. I myself " 
 
 But Stephen had gone. He was running 
 wildly, though he knew not why, nor whither. 
 Presently he found himself in the midst of a 
 great throng, all hurrying like himself. 
 
 " Let us stop here!" shouted a man to his fel- 
 lows. " We shall see it all finely here!" 
 
 Stephen looked at him beseechingly. "Is it 
 true?" he gasped. 
 
 But the man did not answer. " I shall climb 
 up here!" he shouted again, scrambling, as he 
 spoke, into a stunted tree, which grew by the 
 roadside. 
 
 The crowd still poured out from the city gate 
 in countless thousands, and Stephen, carried 
 along by its resistless tide, found himself near 
 the verge of a little hillock not far from the 
 highway. Here the people were kept back by a 
 triple cordon of soldiers. 
 
 " Tell me," said Stephen again, this time to a 
 sad-faced woman who stood next him in the 
 press, " what doth this mean? Is it true that" 
 and his voice broke in a sob" that they are 
 going to put the Nazarene to death?" 
 
 " Alas, yes!" she answered, " 'tis true. Ah, tho 
 pity of it! and the shame! 'Tis the High Priests; 
 they have always hated Him. 'Twas only last 
 night that they took Him in the garden of Geth- 
 semane. Early this morning they delivered Him 
 to Pilate, and now" And the woman hid her 
 face in her long veil. 
 
 " In Gethsemane?" said Stephen. "Is it an 
 olive orchard yonder?" 
 
 " Yes," answered the woman, her throat quiv- 
 ering. " He went there often for quiet and 
 prayer." And again she stopped, struggling 
 with her tears. 
 
 " I was there," said Stephen. " I heard the 
 noise but I knew not what it meant. I had 
 been sleeping." 
 
 " Hark!" said the woman. " They are coming." 
 
 Above the roar of the multitude arose the 
 sound of the regular tread of soldiers, and pres- 
 ently the vanguard of the procession, a detach- 
 ment of Roman troops, came into view. They 
 were marching stolidly along, their shields glir- 
 tering in the bright sunshine. Then the three 
 cross-bearers, guarded each by a quaternion of 
 soldiers, and bearing each upon his breast a 
 whitened board with the accusation for which 
 he was to suffer, blazoned thereon in large black 
 letters. That of the Nazarene bore the strange 
 words: "Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the 
 Jews." 
 
 Stephen gave one look, and there burst from 
 his lips that frenzied cry: "Father! Titus! 
 Jesus!" Then he sank back like one dead. 
 
 The woman ceased her low wailing, and knelt 
 at his side. " Stand back a little, good people!" 
 she cried. " The lad hath fainted; he must have 
 air." 
 
 " He is nothing but a beggar!" said a man con- 
 temptuously, giving him a push with his foot 
 as he spoke. " Let him be; thou wilt lose it all. 
 They are going to take the Nazarene first." 
 
 The woman hastily sprinkled some water from 
 a small gurglet, which she carried at her girdlo, 
 on the face of the unconscious boy. Then, as if 
 impelled by a resistless force, she stood up and 
 fixed her eyes upon the awful scene before her. 
 
 The soldiers were working swiftly. The Naz- 
 arene, already stripped of His garments, was 
 laid upon the cross, which was lying on the
 
 80 
 
 TITUS, A COMRADE OF THE CROSS. 
 
 ground. Now a few dull, heavy blows of the 
 mallet, and the great nails were driven through 
 the palms of His outstretched hands; then 
 through His feet, slightly drawn up and laid the 
 one over the other. 
 
 And now they were lifting the cross, with its 
 burden of agony; dragging it roughly along, a 
 dozen strong arms raised it up and with a shout 
 dropped it into the hole previously dug to receive 
 it. 
 
 The body of Jesus settled forward with a sick- 
 ening shock. What was it that He was saying? 
 
 He seemed about to fall back again, but sud- 
 denly he leaped up, a fierce light burning in his 
 eyes. " Where is the High Priest?" he said 
 wildly. "The young man is his son; he might 
 yet be saved!" 
 
 "Hush!" said the woman pitifully. "Thy 
 trouble hath crazed thee. Nothing could save 
 him now." 
 
 The lad sank back again weakly. He had 
 eaten nothing for hours; his brain reeled, and 
 things looked dim and strange. 
 
 " I must be mad!" he said aloud. Then he was 
 
 Golgotha. 
 
 " Father, forgive them; for they know not what 
 they do." 
 
 Now followed the thieves; they had drunken 
 deeply of the drugged wine, which the Nazarene 
 had refused. The older man fought savagely 
 with the soldiers, when his turn came, but was 
 quickly overpowered and thrown down, and 
 amid a torrent of horrid oaths and screams, his 
 cross was raised to a place on the left of the 
 Nazarene. 
 
 Then the young man " A mere lad!" said the 
 woman, her lips livid with horror. He was 
 silent, even as the Nazarene, save for his piteous 
 groans. 
 
 But now the form at her feet stirred. She 
 looked down, then stooped, and raising his head, 
 gave him to drink from her water-bottle. 
 
 " God!" he gasped as he beheld the three 
 crosses. " My Jesus J My brother! My father!" 
 
 silent. He heard vaguely the voices of the mob, 
 as they reviled the Man on the middle cross: 
 " Thou that destroyest the Temple, and build- 
 est it in three days, save thyself! If thou be the 
 Son of God, come down from the cross!" 
 
 And he saw a group of men, gorgeously robed, 
 who stood near the cross, stretching out their 
 arms with mocking gestures. " He saved others; 
 Himself He cannot save. If He be the king of 
 Israel, let Him now come down from the cross, 
 and we will believe Him! He trusted in God; 
 let Him deliver Him now, if He will have Him; 
 for He said, I am the Son of God." 
 
 " Those be the chief priests," said the woman 
 to Stephen. 
 
 But he made no answer. 
 
 The sun was nearly overhead now, and beat- 
 ing down with noontide fierceness; but grad- 
 ually the brilliant light paled; there was a
 
 TITUS, A COMBADE OP THE CROSS. 
 
 81 
 
 strange hush in the air. The people, frantic 
 with excitement, did not note the change at first; 
 then one and another began to look uneasily up- 
 ward. There was no cloud, no sign of storm, but 
 the light was momently fading. Now it was a 
 ghastly yellow; and now it gloomed into a lurid 
 twilight. 
 
 The people looked at one another with white 
 faces. "What is it?" they whispered. Then 
 they gazed fearfully at the Man on the middle 
 cross. He was hanging motionless, His head 
 sunken upon His breast. 
 
 The man on the cross at the left was groaning 
 and blaspheming horribly; in the frightened 
 hush his words could be distinctly heard. He 
 was cursing the Man at his side. " If thou be 
 the Christ!" he shrieked, with an awful impreca- 
 tion, "save thyself and us!" 
 
 He who hung on the other side of the Nazarene 
 had been silent till now, save for his piteous 
 sighing; but now he spoke the fierce agony had 
 cleared his brain at last. 
 
 " Wilt thou not hold thy peace!" he cried In 
 his clear young voice; and Stephen listened 
 breathlessly. " Dost thou not fear God, seeing 
 thou art in the same condemnation? And we 
 indeed justly; for we receive the due reward 
 of our deeds. But He is innocent." 
 
 Then he turned his dying eyes on Jesus, and 
 said tremulously, beseechingly: " Lord, remem- 
 ber me when thou comest into thy kingdom." 
 
 And into the face of Jesus, blood-stained, be- 
 fouled, and ghastly with the pallor of approach- 
 ing death, there flashed a look of joy so divine 
 that Stephen's heart leapt when he beheld it. 
 
 " Verily I say unto thee," and His voice was 
 clear, beautiful and far-reaching as of old" to- 
 day shalt thou be with me in Paradise." 
 
 Titus smiled radiantly. What cared he now 
 for the pain, the shame, the dying! " To-day 
 with Him in Paradise!" 
 
 Stephen started forward with a great cry of 
 longing. " Oh, take me too!" 
 
 Suddenly he became aware that not far from 
 him stood Mary, the mother of Jesus, and with 
 her two other women, and John the beloved 
 disciple. He could see them all quite plainly in 
 the lurid half-darkness, for the crowd, in fear, 
 had drawn away from the neighborhood of the 
 crosses, leaving them almost alone save for the 
 Roman guard. He crept timidly nearer, till he 
 could touch the hem of Mary's robe; but he did 
 not speak to her. He dared not. 
 
 " My son! My son!" she wailed; and again the 
 dim eyes of the dying man brightened. 
 
 He looked at His mother with an infinite ten- 
 derness. "AVoman!" He said faintly, "behold 
 thy son!" Then turning His eyes upon John, 
 who was supporting her half-swooning form, He 
 said, " Behold thy mother!" 
 
 The hours crept heavily onward. The dark- 
 ness was that of night now a starless night. 
 The thousands who had come forth in holiday 
 attire, full of insolent triumph, to witness the 
 agony of the crucifixion, were waiting, full of 
 terror, for the end. They dared not move in 
 that ghastly darkness. Save for the groans of 
 the dying man, the silence was almost un- 
 broken. 
 
 About the ninth hour, Jesus cried in a voice of 
 agony: " Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani!" 
 
 It was the simple Galilean speech of His child- 
 hood, and signified those saddest of all words: 
 " My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken 
 me?" 
 
 But someone who was watching, hearing only 
 the first words, and understanding them not, 
 said: "This Man calleth for Elias." 
 
 Then He spoke again, this time faintly: " I 
 thirst." 
 
 Now there was, standing near, a vessel full 
 of the common sour wine which the soldiers had 
 brought to refresh themselves with; and one of 
 them, smitten with remorse, hastened to fill a 
 sponge with wine, and putting it upon the stem 
 of a hyssop plant which grew near, lifted it to 
 the parched lips of the Sufferer. 
 
 " Let be!" shouted another. " Let us see 
 whether Elias will come to save Him." 
 
 Another silence, broken only by the gasping 
 breath of the crucified One, then in a moment aii 
 was over. A look of supreme joy and triumph 
 flashed into the face of the dying Man. " It is 
 finished!" He cried. A last low prayer 
 " Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit!" 
 and with a great cry of mortal agony, His head 
 fell forward on His breast. He was dead. 
 
 Then followed a sound of crashing and grind- 
 ing rocks, as the earth shook with wave after 
 wave of earthquake. The people shrieked aloud, 
 and prayed wildly in a frenzy of terror. 
 
 " We are undone!" they wailed; and they rent 
 their garments and smote upon their breasts. 
 
 The Roman centurion, also, and the soldiers 
 that were with him, trembled with fear. 
 " Truly," they said, " this was the Son of God!" 
 
 Then the darkness vanished as suddenly as it 
 had come; the sun shone out gloriously, and the 
 multitudes returned into the city, still wailing 
 and beating upon their breasts. They remem- 
 bered the words which they had spoken: " His 
 blood be upon us, and upon our children."
 
 82 
 
 TITUS, A COMRADE OF THE CROSS. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 HOUGH He who hung 
 upon the middle cross 
 was dead, the others 
 who were crucified with 
 Him, still lived. The 
 younger of the twain 
 was apparently uncon- 
 scious, for his head 
 hung forward upon his 
 breast, and he made 
 neither sign nor motion. 
 But the other rolled his 
 great head from side to 
 side, and talked wildly. 
 " Send me now the 
 High Priest!" he cried. 
 " I am a dying man; I must tell him of some- 
 thing before I go hence." 
 
 The words caught the ear of Malchus, the High 
 Priest's servant, who had stood near the crosses 
 since morning. " What wouldst thou with the 
 High Priest?" he asked. " I am his servant." 
 
 " Give me to drink," groaned the man, " for 1 
 am tormented with thirst." 
 
 Malchus dipped the sponge into the wine, and 
 gave it to the miserable wretch once and again. 
 
 "Where is the High Priest?" he repeated, 
 huskily. 
 
 " He hath returned to the city," answered Mal- 
 chus. " Tell me what thou wouldst say to him. 
 I am his trusted servant; I will bear him word." 
 " I will tell thee since I cannot tell him, and 
 the time is short." Here he paused to groan, 
 then went on with a visible effort. " The young 
 man on the further cross is the son of Caiaphas, 
 the High Priest." 
 
 " Thief, thou liest!" cried Malchus, starting 
 back in horror. 
 
 " I lie not," replied Dumachus. " I am a dying 
 man. I stole him with his nurse, Prisca. The 
 girl I loved; the boy I took to avenge myself of 
 a scourging at the hands of Caiaphas, which I 
 deserved not, and which helped make me the 
 devil that I am." 
 
 When Malchus heard the name Prisca, be 
 shook with fear. "Where is the woman?" he 
 asked. 
 
 " I know not," answered the thief, speaking 
 with difficulty. " She was in Capernaum. I 
 have a son, also, Stephen by name; I know not 
 where he is. But swear to me that thou wilt 
 tell Caiaphas! He will remember the scourging 
 and the boy!" And the man ground his teeth. 
 Malchus now ran to the other cross, and looked 
 keenly upon the face of him who hung thereon; 
 and as he looked, the conviction forced itself 
 upon him that the man had spoken the truth. 
 
 He reached up and laid his hand over the 
 heart of the lad; it was beating still, but so 
 faintly that he could scarcely detect the pulsa- 
 tions. " He is almost gone, happily," he 
 thought. Then the words which the Naz- 
 arene had spoken flashed back into his mind. 
 " He is near Paradise wherever that may be!" 
 he murmured with a heart-breaking sigh as he 
 turned away. 
 
 Calling one of the soldiers, who kept guard, he 
 slipped a piece of gold into his hand. " I must 
 have the body of this young man, when all is 
 over," he whispered. " Manage it for me, an<I 
 thou shalt have thrice as much again." 
 
 The man nodded. " Where dost thou want it?" 
 he said. 
 
 " Here. I will come to fetch him away. Do not 
 let them take him down, till I return." 
 
 " I will see to it," said the man, looking at 
 the coin in his hand. 
 
 Then Malchus sped swiftly away. When he 
 reached the palace he went straight to the pri- 
 vate apartment of his master. 
 
 Caiaphas was alone. He was sitting motion- 
 less in his great chair, his eyes fixed and staring. 
 
 " Master!" said Malchus, trembling before that 
 terrible, stony face, " I must tell thee something 
 something which hath to do with thy son/' 
 And he cast vainly about in his mind for a mer- 
 ciful way of telling his frightful tidings. 
 
 But Caiaphas did not answer; he seemed not 
 to have heard. 
 
 " I have found thy son!" cried Malchus, draw- 
 ing nearer and stooping over the chair. " I have 
 found thy sou; and he is dying, or even now 
 dead." 
 
 Caiaphas stirred, and turned his eyes slowly 
 till that terrible, unwinking gaze rested on the 
 face of his servant. " Thou hast found my son? 
 My son is dead! What is it that thou art say- 
 ing?" 
 
 Then did Malchus, in his desperation, pour 
 forth the whole awful story. 
 
 Caiaphas did not move. " He is crucified, thou 
 sayest," still in the same dull tone " with the 
 Nazarene. My son, and the Son of God! Cru- 
 cified together!" 
 
 Then a frightful change came over his aspect 
 He sprang up, his eyes flaming. "Thou liest!" 
 he shrieked. " Thou art trying to make me 
 afraid for what I have done! But I am not 
 afraid. I am glad glad! Dost thou hear? Get 
 thee away out of my presence, and never dare 
 to enter it again! Get thee away or I kill thee!" 
 And with the howl of a demoniac, he rushed 
 forward. 
 
 But Malchus was gone. When he had reached 
 the street, he sank down for a moment on the 
 stones, and pressing his trembling hands to- 
 gether, groaned out: " My God! My master!
 
 MTUS, A COMBADE OF THE CROSS. 
 
 Help him, I beseech of thee. And forgive, if it 
 be possible!" 
 
 Then he arose, and went swiftly away towards 
 Calvary, stopping only to purchase supplies of 
 fine linen and spices*. 
 
 As he turned the corner of a narrow street ho 
 met two men; one of them called him by name. 
 He paused for an instant to look, .and saw that 
 it was John, the follower of the Nazarene. 
 
 " I have with me a lad," said John under his 
 breath, " who hath a woeful errand with thy 
 master. He knoweth the whereabouts of his 
 son, lost so long ago. I was bringing him to the 
 palace; he cannot gain admittance alone." 
 
 " Hath he tried before?" asked Malchus 
 eagerly. 
 
 " Yes," said the lad, speaking for himself, 
 " many times yesterday." 
 
 Malchus groaned aloud. " I know all that thou 
 wouldst tell my master," he said. " But it will 
 avail nothing to see him now. And as for his 
 mother let her remain in ignorance of the thing 
 for a time. She hath enough to bear." And he 
 told them briefly of what had passed between 
 himself and Caiaphas. 
 
 " I am going to see to the burial of my young 
 master," he said, in conclusion. " "Tis all that 
 I can do for him now, for whom I would have 
 given my heart's best blood." 
 
 " I love him too," said Stephen simply. " But 
 I am glad for him; for he hath gone to a better 
 place than this to be with Him." 
 
 Then all three went sadly on, till they came to 
 the place where the crosses were. 
 
 The body of Jesus was being taken reverently 
 down from the cross, as they approached, a num- 
 ber of persons assisting, among whom Malchus 
 recognized two members of the Sanhedrim, 
 Joseph of Arimathea, and Nicodemus. 
 
 " They believe on Him at last," said John 
 sadly. 
 
 " They have long believed on Him, but have 
 not dared to confess it openly," replied Malchus; 
 " even as I, myself," he added humbly. 
 
 The soldier to whom he had given the coin, 
 now approached him. " The lad is dead," he 
 said in a low voice, " and the other also. Wilt 
 thou that we help thee? We must, at all events, 
 take the bodies away and soon, for it is near 
 sunset." 
 
 " Yes, help me. Here is gold," said Malchus 
 huskily. 
 
 And so it was that as the sun sank behind the 
 horizon, all three rested in the peace of death- 
 Jesus in the new tomb of Joseph of Arimathea, 
 in a fair garden near to the place where He 
 died, and the others not far away. For Stephen 
 
 had besought Malchus with tears, that the body 
 of his father might not be left to the brutal 
 hands of the soldiers. 
 
 As they went away in the twilight, Malchus 
 said to Stephen, "Where now wilt thou go?" 
 
 " I know not," answered the boy forlornly. 
 " There is no one, now, to whom I can go; anil 
 no place!" and he sobbed aloud. 
 
 " Thou shalt bide with me," said Malchus 
 warmly. 
 
 But John, who had joined them, drew the lad 
 to his side. " Wilt thou come with me?" he said. 
 " His mother, now mine, shall be thine also; and 
 thou shalt be my brother." 
 
 Stephen looked up into the face of the disciple 
 whom Jesus loved, and his heart went out to 
 him; and he was comforted in his sorrow. 
 
 Then they went away into Bethany to wait till 
 the Sabbath should be past. 
 
 \ 
 
 \ 
 
 Used in the imperfect embalmment practiced by tbe 
 Jews. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 T was the solemn hour before 
 the dawn. In the pallid, un- 
 certain light of the waning 
 moon, a solitary woman 
 ' hastened along the road 
 which led to the garden 
 wherein had been laid the 
 crucified One. It was Mary 
 of Magdala, bearing spices 
 for the beloved dead. 
 
 Timidly she entered the en- 
 closure, and with many a 
 tremulous pause, made her 
 way through the thick shrub- 
 bery. It was very dark, and 
 so silent that she could al- 
 most hear the beating of 
 her heart. Presently she 
 stopped altogether to listen; 
 then was the stillness broken 
 by a sound as of soft, mys- 
 terious rustling. It was but the morning breeze 
 as it swept through the branches; but she fan- 
 cied it to be the stirring of angelic wings. The 
 breath of the lilies filled the place with sweet- 
 ness, like to the holy atmosphere of heaven. She 
 stood for a long time motionless, hardly daring 
 to breathe, still listening listening. 
 
 Suddenly a faint beam of rosy light penetrated 
 the darkness, and high above burst forth the 
 melodious thanksgiving of the lark. 
 
 She started forward with a little cry. Behold. 
 the stone had been rolled away from the door 
 of the sepulchre! She gave one frightened
 
 T1TVS, A COMRADE OF Ttifi CfiOSS. 
 
 glance within, then turned and fled toward 
 Bethany. 
 The tomb was empty! 
 
 " Who will roll away the stone from the door 
 of the tomb?" 
 
 The women stopped and looked at one another 
 in consternation. There were four of them 
 Mary the mother of James, the wife of Clopas, 
 Joanna, and Salome. They too were on the way 
 to the sacred garden in the dim light of early 
 morning. 
 
 " It is certain that we shall not be able to 
 move it for ourselves, for it is very great," con- 
 tinued Salome. 
 
 " But will not the disciples be also at the 
 sepulchre? Our purpose was known unto them," 
 said Joanna. " Let us go on," she added. " I 
 myself am very strong." 
 
 The dawn was brightening momently now. 
 Light wreaths of snowy mist which had lain 
 softly on the bosom of the fields all night were 
 flitting away, leaving a rain of sparkling jewels 
 behind them. Almond trees, just bursting into 
 bloom, showed white and rosy-red against the 
 tender green of the young leaves. Birds, in an 
 ecstasy of song, swung joyously upon the blos- 
 soming sprays or flitted athwart the glowing 
 sky. All nature was in the great secret of the 
 heavens, on that ever-to-be-remembered morn- 
 ing! 
 
 But nothing of the triumphant joy of the new 
 day found its way.into the hearts of the women. 
 Mary, indeed, raised her eyes, heavy with weep- 
 ing, and said half bitterly: 
 
 " How can the birds which He loved sing, 
 and the flowers bloom, when He " And her 
 voice broke in a sob. 
 
 The others were silent. With bowed heads 
 they hurried forward, blinded with their tears. 
 
 And now they were come to the garden. They 
 entered in, threading their way swiftly through 
 the serried ranks of lilies and blossoming trees. 
 And drawing near to the tomb, they saw that 
 the great stone had been rolled away, and lay 
 at one side of the open door. 
 
 Timidly they entered into the sepulchre, then 
 looked at one another in sorrowful amaze. The 
 niche wherein had lain the body of Jesus was 
 empty. Suddenly they perceived sitting on the 
 right side the figure of a young man, from whose 
 garments there streamed forth a mysterious 
 radiance, which lighted all the gloomy place 
 wherein they were standing. And the angel said 
 unto them: 
 
 " Fear not; for I know that ye seek Jesus, 
 which hath been crucified. Why seek ye the 
 living among the dead? He is not here; He is 
 risen: behold the place where they laid Him. 
 
 But go, tell His disciples and Peter, that He 
 goeth before you into Galilee; there shall ye 
 see Him, as He said unto you. Remember how 
 He spake unto you, when He was yet in Galilee, 
 saying that the Son of man must be delivered 
 up into the hands of sinful men, and be cruci- 
 fied, and the third day rise again." 
 And they went out and fled from the tomb. 
 
 "Woman, why weepest thouf' 
 
 trembling. And for a time they said nothin? 
 any one; for they were afraid. 
 
 to 
 
 " What mean these strange tidings, thinkest 
 thou? Who could have taken away His body'.' 
 Mayhap His enemies who murdered Him. Have 
 they not done enough, that they must needs dis- 
 turb Him in His last sleep!" 
 
 " Let us make haste. The woman may have 
 been mistaken," answered John. " She is crazed 
 with grief." 
 
 Then a strange thought a remembrance of 
 words long since spoken, and oftentimes re-
 
 TITUS, A COMRADE OF THE CROSS. 
 
 85 
 
 peated flashed into his mind. " The third day!" 
 he murmured. 
 
 Then he broke into a run, Peter following; and 
 still running, he came to the garden and to the 
 tomb. The stone was rolled away, even as the 
 woman had said, and stooping down, he looked 
 in and saw the linen wrappings which had 
 swathed the body. While he looked in amaze, 
 not daring to enter, Peter also approached, and, 
 seeing the open door, he went into the tomb and 
 beheld the linen cerements, folded together, and 
 the napkin which had lain upon the face of the 
 dead, rolled up in a place by itself. 
 
 Then did John also come into the tomb, and 
 there the mighty truth burst upon him. 
 
 " He is not here. He is risen!" he said aloud 
 in the very words of the angel. 
 
 But Peter was sorrowfully silent. Then the 
 two went away again unto their own home. 
 
 Now Mary of Magdala had followed them afar 
 off, weeping. And when the disciples were gone 
 away, she came alone to the tomb and stood at 
 the door. " And as she wept, she stooped and 
 looked into the tomb; and she beheld two angels 
 in white sitting, one at the head, and one at the 
 feet, where the body of Jesus had lain. And 
 they said unto her, ' Woman, why weepest thoti? 
 Whom seekest thou?' She said unto them, ' Be- 
 cause they have taken away my Lord, and I 
 know not where they have laid Him.' " 
 
 Then she turned herself about, and saw, 
 through the blinding mist of her tears, the figure 
 of a Man standing near. And He spake unto 
 her; and His words were those of the angels who 
 were in the tomb: 
 
 " Woman, why weepest thou? W T hom seekest 
 thou?" 
 
 And she thought within herself: " This man 
 is the gardener. Surely he can tell me." Clasp- 
 ing her hands, she said beseechingly: 
 
 " Sir, if thou hast borne Him hence, tell me 
 where thou hast laid Him; and I will take Him 
 away." 
 
 Jesus for it was He that had spoken said 
 unto her: 
 
 " Mary!" 
 
 And she knew His voice. In an ecstasy of joy 
 she cried, " Rabboni!" and would have laid hold 
 on Him, as if to make sure that her sorrow- 
 dazed senses were not deceiving her. 
 
 But He said unto her: " Lay not hold on me;* 
 for I am not yet ascended unto my Father: but 
 go to my brethren, and say unto them, I ascend 
 unto my Father, and your Father; and to my 
 God, and your God." And He passed from out 
 her sight. 
 
 *Or, "Do not seek tokeepme now." Jes'is be f9re His death 
 had spoken of going away and returniug again to remnin. 
 Apparently Mary now expected Him to remain with he;-. 
 
 And she came in great haste and joy, and 
 made known all these things unto the disciples, 
 saying: " I have seen the Lord!" 
 
 " Now, behold, two of them went that same 
 day to a village called Emmaus, which was 
 from Jerusalem about threescore furlongs. And 
 they talked together of all these things which 
 had happened. And it came to pass, that, while 
 they communed together and reasoned, Jesus 
 Himself drew near, and went with them. But 
 their eyes were holden, that they should not 
 know Him. 
 
 " And He said unto them, ' What manner of 
 communications are these that ye have one with 
 another, as ye walk, and are sad?' 
 
 " And one of them, whose name was Cleopas, 
 answering said unto Him, ' Art thou only a 
 stranger in Jerusalem, and hast not known the 
 things which are come to pass there in these 
 days?' 
 
 " And He said unto them, ' What things?' 
 
 " And they answered Him, ' Concerning Jesus 
 of Nazareth, which was a prophet mighty in 
 deed and word before God and all the people; 
 and how the chief priests and our rulers de- 
 livered Him to be condemned to death, and have 
 crucified Him. But we trusted that it had been 
 He which should have redeemed Israel: and be- 
 side all this, to-day is the third day since these 
 things were done. Yea, and certain women also 
 of our company made us astonished, which were 
 early at the sepulchre; and when they found not 
 His body, they came, saying, that they had also 
 seen a vision of angels, which said that He was 
 alive. And certain of them which were with u:> 
 went to the sepulchre, and found it even so as 
 the women had said. But Him they saw not.' 
 
 " Then He said unto them, ' O foolish ones, and 
 slow of heart to believe all that the prophets 
 have spoken. Ought not Christ to have suffered 
 these things, and to enter into His glory?' 
 
 " And beginning from Moses and from the 
 prophets, He interpreted to them in all the Scrip- 
 tures the things concerning Himself. 
 
 " And they drew nigh unto the village whither 
 they went; and He made as though He would 
 have gone further. But they constrained Him, 
 saying: 'Abide with us; for it is toward even- 
 ing, and the day is far spent.' 
 
 " And He went in to tarry with them. And it 
 came to pass, when He had sat down with them 
 to meat, He took the bread, and blessed it, and 
 brake, and gave to them. And their eyes were 
 opened, and they knew Him; and He vanished 
 out of their sight. 
 
 " And they said one to another, ' Did not our 
 hearts burn within us, while He talked with us 
 by the way, and while He opened to us the 
 Scriptures?'
 
 86 
 
 TITUS, A COMRADE OF THE CROSS, 
 
 " And they rose up that very hour, and re- 
 turned to Jerusalem, and found the eleven gath- 
 ered together, and them that were with them, 
 saying, ' The Lord is risen indeed, and hath ap- 
 peared unto Simon.' 
 
 " And they told what things were done in tho 
 way, and how He was known of them in the 
 breaking of bread." 
 
 And while they were talking together of all 
 that had happened, some of them as yet hardly 
 daring to believe, so great was their joy and 
 wonder, Jesus Himself stood in the midst of 
 them and said: 
 
 " Peace be unto you!" 
 
 But they were terrified; for they knew that 
 the doors were shut, and they thought that they 
 beheld a spirit. 
 
 And He said unto them, " Why are ye trou- 
 bled? And why do thoughts arise in your hearts? 
 Behold my hands and my feet, that it is I my- 
 self: handle me, and see; for a spirit hath not 
 flesh and bones, as ye see me have." 
 
 And He saw their faces full of a great joy in- 
 deed, yet mingled with fear. He knew their 
 hearts, that they loved Him, yet, being in the 
 flesh, the mystery of His resurrection was too 
 great for them. 
 
 Looking at them with a love unutterable He 
 said gently, " Have ye here any meat?" being 
 minded to show them that He was yet their own 
 not removed to an infinite and unapproachable 
 distance, but the very Jesus who had loved them 
 and cared for them and died for them. 
 
 And with trembling and great joy they 
 brought broiled fish and a piece of honeycomtn- 
 their own homely and familiar food which He 
 had shared with them so often. And He did eat 
 before them. 
 
 Then did they crowd about Him, and weep out 
 their joy at His feet. And He talked with them 
 a long time, and made all things as clear as 
 . might be to their human understanding. 
 
 And He said unto them, " Thus it is written, 
 and thus it behoved Christ to suffer, and to rise 
 from the dead the third day; and that repent- 
 ance and forgiveness of sins should be preached 
 in His name among all nations, beginning at 
 Jerusalem. And ye are witnesses of these 
 things." 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 Mary the mother of Jesus was sitting motion- 
 less at the window of her chamber, her dark 
 eyes fixed on the distant horizon. The look on 
 her face was that of one who had suffered be- 
 yond the limit of human endurance, and to 
 
 whom had come some heavenly panacea. Its 
 peace was the peace of heaven. 
 
 As she sat thus musing within herself, some 
 one entered the room and softly approached. It 
 was Stephen. Kneeling lightly at her side, he 
 lifted the waxen fingers which lay idly in her 
 lap, and pressed them to his lips. 
 
 " Mother of my Jesus!" he said, " thou knowest 
 how I came to Jerusalem that I might search 
 for Titus and how that he hath entered into 
 Paradise, where he shall abide for evermore 
 with Him whom we love. Yet his mother know- 
 eth not where he is." 
 
 Then he told her all that had happened, and 
 how Malchus had said, " Let his mother remain 
 in ignorance of the thing; she hath enough to 
 bear." 
 
 And Mary turned the solemn radiance of her 
 eyes upon him, as he knelt beside her, awaiting 
 her answer. 
 
 "'She must no longer remain in ignorance," she 
 said at length. " Thou must tell her, and no 
 other. Go, my son." And she rested her hand 
 for a moment on his bowed head in silent bless- 
 ing. 
 
 The wife of Caiaphas was sitting in the room 
 which looked out upon the terrace. The sun- 
 shine flickered on the wall as cheerily as of yore, 
 the fountain plashed, the birds sang joyously, 
 and the odor of lilies was wafted in on every 
 passing breeze. Yet was the face of the lady 
 sad; her work had slipped from her idle fingers; 
 her eyes were heavy with unshed tears. She 
 looked up as one of her maidens entered and 
 made obeisance before her. 
 
 " What wilt thou, Reba?" she said wearily. 
 
 " Most noble lady," replied the maid, " there 
 is a lad waiting in the court of the household. 
 He would see thee and speak with thee. I told 
 him that it could not be; but he was importu- 
 nate and refused to go away until he had seen 
 thee." 
 
 " Thou shouldst not have told him that it could 
 not be, until thou hadst consulted my pleasure," 
 said Anna, with some annoyance evident in her 
 voice. " Bring the lad into my presence." 
 
 The maiden bowed humbly and went away. 
 Presently she returned. 
 
 " Here is the lad, most noble lady," she said; 
 then obeying a motion of her mistress' hand, she 
 went away, leaving the two alone. 
 
 Stephen regarded the lady before him with 
 awe. The mother of his Titus! How should he 
 tell her! How should he begin! 
 
 Anna saw his embarrassment; her heart went 
 out toward the lad. The earnest and loving re- 
 gard in his eyes stirred her strangely. 
 
 "What wilt thou?" she said very gently, with 
 one of her rare smiles.
 
 TITUS, A COMBADE OF THE CBOSS. 
 
 87 
 
 Stephen knew that smile it was the smile of 
 Titus himself! Drawing nearer, he said in a 
 low tone which trembled with the depth of his 
 feeling: 
 
 " Thou art the mother of my Titus. I am come 
 to tell thee of him. He is no longer on earth. 
 He is in Paradise." 
 
 " Nay, I know not what thou meanest," said 
 Anna. Yet she too trembled. " Who is thy 
 Titus?" 
 
 " He is thy son. His name was David." 
 
 And when the mother heard that name, she 
 gave a sharp cry. 
 
 " Tell me!" she gasped. " Tell me all." 
 
 And Stephen in his own simple fashion told 
 her all the short, sad story of Titus. 
 
 " Nay, mother of my Titus, weep not," he said 
 beseechingly, when he had finished. " For is it 
 not well with him? Had he not the promise of 
 the Master, which hath never failed? Is he not 
 safe? Is he not blessed in Paradise " 
 
 " In Paradise yes," moaned the mother. " But 
 I I am on earth. And I know not whether I 
 shall ever be with him." 
 
 " Thou shalt be with him one day, if thou dost 
 believe in Jesus, who died and hath risen from 
 the dead," said Stephen solemnly. 
 
 Anna raised her head. " What meanest 
 thou?" she whispered. 
 
 " That Jesus hath come forth from the tomb, 
 where they laid Him cold and dead, after that 
 He was crucified," said Stephen in joyous tri- 
 umph. " That He is alive! With mine own eyes 
 I have seen Him, and I have heard His voice. 
 And if He liveth, we shall live also; moreover He 
 hath said that it is His will that we should be 
 with Him where He is. Thou shalt see thy son 
 again. The Father is merciful." 
 
 Anna made no reply. She arose, and, hastily 
 wrapping herself in a mantle and veil which lay 
 upon the divan near at hand, said tremulously: 
 
 " I must see the mother of Jesus. Take me to 
 her." 
 
 And the two passed out into the street, the 
 haughty lady following humbly after Stephen 
 all the way till they, reached the abode of 
 Mary. 
 
 Then came they into the place where Mary 
 was; and when the mother of Titus saw her, she 
 gave a great and bitter cry and fell upon her 
 neck weeping. 
 
 Stephen went softly away and left the two 
 women together. 
 
 After a time they called for him, and he came 
 into their presence trembling. He saw the face 
 of Anna, that it shone through her tears with 
 joy, even as the sun sendeth forth its strong 
 beams through the clouds heavy with storm; 
 and his heart grew light in his bosom. 
 
 " Come hither, my son," said Mary gently. 
 
 And he drew near, and the mother of Titus 
 gazed upon him long and earnestly. 
 
 " Thou wert nearest and dearest to him while 
 he was upon earth," she said at length. " I 
 would that thou couldst be ever with me. Yet 
 that may not be." And she turned to Mary with 
 a tender smile. " I would not take thee from 
 her yet thou must be a son to me also, for thou 
 wert his brother." And rising, she drew the lad 
 to her side and kissed him solemnly upon his 
 forehead. 
 
 And so it happened that Stephen found yet an- 
 other friend one that loved him all the days of 
 his life. For full of triumph and joy and useful- 
 ness as was his life upon earth, it was not long. 
 The world was not worthy of him; and God took 
 him to Himself after that He had revealed to 
 him His glory while he was yet in the flesh.* 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 " If I could but see Him once more as of old!" 
 said Peter longingly. 
 
 He was walking with John in his own garden 
 in Capernaum, and certain others of the disci- 
 ples were sitting on the wall at the water's edge, 
 talking in low tones. They had come into Gali- 
 lee according to the word of the Lord, and had 
 gathered together a multitude of the disciples 
 and had told them how that the Lord was risen 
 from the dead. And on this peaceful evening of 
 early summer they had been speaking of His 
 mysterious appearance upon the mountain, 
 where He was seen of over five hundred of the 
 disciples. 
 
 " Thou wert not of them which doubted ?'' 
 questioned John gravely. 
 
 " Nay, I doubted not. 'Twould ill beseem me 
 of all men to question His mercy. But " and 
 he lowered his voice " thou knowest that it was 
 like a vision from heaven. And there were so 
 many to see. If only I could speak with Him 
 once again face to face, and know that He hath 
 forgiven me for my dastardly cowardice!" And 1 
 he dashed the bright drops from his eyes. 
 
 Suddealy be turned, and, looking out over the 
 placid waters* of the lake, now glowing with 
 the thousand shifting tints of sunset, he ex- 
 claimed with something of his old energy: " I 
 would fain go fishing to-night." 
 
 John looked somewhat surprised, but he only 
 said: " Wilt thou that the others go also?" 
 
 " Assuredly," answered Peter. " Do thoa 
 speak with them. I will put the boat to rights 
 and bring the nets." 
 
 So presently they all set forth, amid the deep- 
 
 Acts7:55 :
 
 TITUS, A COMRADE OF THE CROSS. 
 
 ening shadows of evening, just as they used to 
 do. And as the boat glided gently along, float- 
 ing, as it were, between two heavens, John 
 looked forth over the mystic glory of the water 
 as it reflected in its bosom the radiant sky, and 
 murmured: "A sea of glass mingled with 
 fire!" 
 
 And they toiled all the night, yet caught noth- 
 ing. And when the morning was come, they 
 made for the land, for they were weary and 
 faint after the long night. 
 
 And as they drew nigh unto the shore they 
 beheld standing upon the water's edge the figure 
 of a Man, seen but dimly through the morning 
 mist. 
 
 And He called to them and said: " Children, 
 have ye any meat?" 
 
 And they answered Him: " No." 
 
 And He said: " Cast the net on the right side 
 of the ship, and ye shall find." 
 
 And they did as they were bidden; for they 
 thought that He might have seen that look on 
 the surface of the water which showeth to one 
 skilled in such things the presence of fish. And 
 having cast the net, they were now not able to 
 drag it for the multitude of the fishes. 
 
 Then did John, the disciple whom Jesus loved, 
 stand up in the bow of the boat and gaze long 
 and earnestly upon the Man who stood upon the 
 shore; and he knew Him, and cried out with 
 joy: 
 
 "It is the Lord!" 
 
 And when Peter heard that it was the Lord, he 
 girt his fisher's coat about him and, leaping into 
 the water, swam ashore, and fell at the feet of 
 the Master whom he had denied. 
 
 Now the other disciples, dragging the net full 
 of fishes, came also to the -shore; and they saw 
 a fire of coals burning, and fish broiling thereon, 
 and bread, just as of yore. 
 
 And their hearts were full as they gazed upon 
 their risen Lord, and thought that even in His 
 glory He remembered that they were hungry 
 and must eat. 
 
 " And Jesus said unto them, ' Bring of the fish 
 which ye have now caught.' 
 
 " Peter went and drew the net to land full of 
 great fishes, an hundred and fifty and three; and 
 for all there were so many, yet was not the net 
 broken." 
 
 Then said Jesus unto them: " Come, and break 
 your fast." 
 
 And He Himself took of the fish, and gave to 
 them: and also of the bread. And they ate and 
 were satisfied. 
 
 After that they had eaten. Jesus fixed His eyes 
 upon Peter and said to him: " Simon, son of 
 John, dost thou love me more than these?" 
 
 And Peter, an'swered eagerly: " Yea, Lord; 
 knowest that I love tliee." 
 
 " Feed my lambs," said the Master solemnly. 
 
 Then He asked him a second time: " Simon, 
 son of John, dost thou love me?" 
 
 And again Peter made answer: " Yea, Lord; 
 thou kuowest that I love thee." 
 
 And Jesus said unto him solemnly as before: 
 " Tend my sheep." 
 
 Then said He the third time: " Simon, son of 
 John, dost thou love me?" 
 
 Peter was grieved when He said unto him the 
 third time, " Dost thou love me?" Yet in his 
 heart he knew the meaning of it all; had he not 
 thrice denied, and was it not meet that he 
 should thrice confess? 
 
 He fell on his knees before Jesus, and with 
 tears cried out: " Lord, thou knowest all things; 
 thou knowest that I love thee." 
 
 Jesus looked upon him with a deep tenderness 
 in His eyes, so that the heart of Peter was satis- 
 fied. He knew that he was forgiven. 
 
 And again He said unto him: " Feed my 
 sheep." 
 
 Then after a little silence He added: " Verily, 
 verily, I say unto thee, when thou wast young, 
 thou girdedst thyself, and walkedst whither thou 
 wouldest: but when thou shalt be old, thou shalt 
 stretch forth thine hands, and another shall gird 
 thee and carry thee whither thou wouldest not." 
 
 And many years afterward, when the enemies 
 of Christ bound Peter and bore him away to a 
 martyr's death, these words were fulfilled. Yet 
 was he triumphant unto the end through the 
 love of his Lord and Master. 
 
 Not many days after this, the disciples went 
 back to Jerusalem, according to the word of 
 Jesus, that they might tarry there till the prom- 
 ise of the Father should be fulfilled.* And Jesus 
 met them there, and again talked with them; 
 and they asked Him: " Lord, dost thou at this 
 time restore the kingdom to Israel?" 
 
 And He said to them: " It is not for you to 
 know times or seasons, which the Father hath 
 set within His own authority. But ye shall re- 
 ceive power when the Holy Spirit is come upon 
 you: and ye shall be my witnesses, both in 
 Jerusalem, and in all Judea, and in Samaria, and 
 unto the uttermost parts of the earth. Go ye 
 therefore, and make disciples of all the nations, 
 baptizing them into the name of the Father, and 
 of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost: teaching 
 them to observe all things whatsoever I have 
 commanded you: and lo, I am with you alway. 
 even unto the end of the world." 
 
 " And He led them out until they were over 
 against Bethany: and He lifted up His hands, 
 and blessed them. And it came to pass, while 
 
 *Acts 1: 4,5,
 
 TITUS, A COMRADE OF THE CROSS. 
 
 He blessed them. He parted from them, and a 
 cloud received Him out of their sight. And 
 while they were looking steadfastly into heaven 
 as He went, behold, two men stood by them in 
 white apparel ; and they said, ' Ye men of Gali- 
 lee, why stand ye looking unto heaven? This 
 Jesus, which was received up from you into 
 heaven, shall so come in like manner as ye be- 
 held Him going into heaven.' " 
 
 And they returned into Jerusalem with exceed- 
 ing great joy, and were continually in the Tem- 
 ple, praising and blessing God. And most of all 
 did they rejoice in the word which He spake 
 unto them: " Lo, I am with you alway, even 
 unto the end of the world." 
 
 And He is with us to-day; for " He inhabiteth 
 eternity." " He is the same yesterday, to-day, 
 and forever," not a far-away Jesus in some re- 
 mote and inaccessible glory, but a Jesus ever 
 present, ever loving, who would do for each one 
 of us what He did for His disciples in those days 
 of yore. 
 
 At this moment He is standing by thy side; 
 wilt thou not fall at His feet as did Peter and 
 cry out, " Lord, thou knowest all things; thou 
 knowest that I love thee!" Then will He lift 
 thee at once from all thy weakness and sin; and 
 thou shalt triumph gloriously through the power 
 of His love. 
 
 And so at last we too, like Titus, shall one day 
 be with Him in Paradise; and there " we shall 
 be like Him; for we shall see Him as He is." 
 
 God grant that every one of us shall be num- 
 bered with that exceeding great multitude who 
 shall stand before the throne, and before the 
 Lamb, crying, " Worthy is the Lamb that was 
 slain!" 
 
 " For they shall hunger no more, neither thirst 
 any more; neither shall the sun light on them, 
 nor any heat. For the Lamb which is in the 
 midst of the throne shall feed them, and shall 
 lead them unto fountains of living waters. And 
 God shall wipe away all tears from their 
 eyes."
 
 T1TVS, A VOMKADti OJb THE CROSS. 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 To the readers of " Titus," I would say a word 
 in regard to the book. Its purpose will, I hope, 
 be evident to all. It is to present the life of 
 Jesus upon earth in such a way as to give a 
 fresh interest to the "old, old story"; to bring 
 the Jesus of nearly nineteen centuries ago into 
 our lives to-day a real, a living Jesus, as ten- 
 der, as loving, as thoughtful of His children 
 who are upon earth now, as He was with the 
 dwellers in Palestine. 
 
 In writing the story I have consulted many 
 books on the subject by other authors, among 
 which I would mention, as having been es- 
 pecially useful to me, " The Life and Words of 
 Christ," by Dr. Geikie; also works by Eder- 
 sheim, Stalker, Farrar, Hanna, Beecher, and 
 other-?," if well as numerous Commentaries and 
 Harmonies, together with Smith's Bible Diction- 
 ary a host in itself; and leading books of 
 travel in the Orient. 
 
 I found that tradition has handed down three 
 groups of names for the thieves who were cru- 
 cified with the Savior; Dysmas, or Demas, for 
 the penitent thief and Gestas for the impeni- 
 tent, being the most generally accepted. A 
 second tradition gives Titus for the penitent 
 
 and Dumachus for the impenitent thief. These 
 names I chose for the characters in my book, 
 for they seemed to me to be the most fitting. 
 Other traditional names were Matha and Joca. 
 It will be noticed that I used the names Gestas 
 and Joca for certain of the robber band who 
 were associated with Dumachus; it having 
 occurred to me that the possible reason for the 
 number of traditional names lay in the exist- 
 ence of just such a predatory band as I have de- 
 scribed in my story. 
 
 In quoting the words of Christ throughout the 
 story, as well as in the description of certain 
 scenes, I have harmonized the words given us 
 in the different Gospels. I have also used the 
 Revised Version of the New Testament, as well 
 as the Authorized Version, and in some cases 
 have gone back to the original Greek, that there 
 might be the greatest possible clearness and 
 completeness of the narrative. 
 
 My prayer for this book is that it may go or" 
 into the world and preach the Gospel of Jes>'"~ 
 
 And so farewell. 
 
 FLORENCE MORSE KINGSLEY, 
 West New Brighton, Staten Island, N. Y. 
 
 October 26, 1894.
 
 I 
 
 A 000038470 7