re than a path well beaten by the coming and going of
flocks and herds. The great plain of Esdraelon crept close to it
on the south, and from the height on the west a view could be had
of the shores of the Mediterranean, the region beyond the Jordan,
and Hermon. The valley below, and the country on every side, were
given to gardens, vineyards, orchards, and pasturage. Groves of
palm-trees Orientalized the landscape. The houses, in irregular
assemblage, were of the humbler class--square, one-story, flat-roofed,
and covered with bright-green vines. The drought that had burned
the hills of Judea to a crisp, brown and lifeless, stopped at the
boundary-line of Galilee.

A trumpet, sounded when the cavalcade drew near the village, had
a magical effect upon the inhabitants. The gates and front doors
cast forth groups eager to be the first to catch the meaning of
a visitation so unusual.

Nazareth, it must be remembered, was not only aside from any great
highway, but within the sway of Judas of Gamala; wherefore it should
not be hard to imagine the feelings with which the legionaries were
received. But when they were up and traversing the street, the duty
that occupied them became apparent, and then fear and hatred were lost
in curiosity, under the impulse of which the people, knowing there must
be a halt at the well in the northeastern part of the town, quit their
gates and doors, and closed in after the procession.

A prisoner whom the horsemen were guarding was the object of curiosity.
He was afoot, bareheaded, half naked, his hands bound behind him. A thong
fixed to his wrists was looped over the neck of a horse. The dust
went with the party when in movement, wrapping him in yellow fog,
sometimes in a dense cloud. He drooped forward, footsore and faint.
The villagers could see he was young.

At the well the decurion halted, and, with most of the men,
dismounted. The prisoner sank down in the dust of the road,
stupefied, and asking nothing: apparently he was in the last
stage of exhaustion. Seeing, when they came near, that he was
but a boy, the villagers would have helped him had they dared.

In the midst of their perplexity, and while the pitchers were
passing among the soldiers, a man was descried coming down the road
from Sepphoris. At sight of him a woman cried out, "Look! Yonder
comes the carpenter. Now we will hear something."

The person spoken of was quite venerable in appearance. Thin white
locks fell below