ghts will shine and the
silver trumpets blow, and great will be the throng in gay apparel
carrying bright _lulabs_."

"Yet far will the eye travel before it falleth on such fragrant boughs
as these," Mary added.

Anna and Martha laughed. Before they turned from the housetop, Mary
picked a blossom from the branch on the arbor roof. "This goeth to my
pillow," she said. "It is a sign."

[1] Festival branches carried at the annual Feast of Ingathering.

CHAPTER XIV

WITH WHAT EYES

Without the walls of Jerusalem, the hills and vales were dotted with
booths of green. Inside the gates the city seemed to have burst into
springtime bloom, and the populace looked like a walking garden, for
every Jew carried an armful of green boughs, and in his hand a sprig of
willow to be placed on the great altar. Many pious ones had witnessed
the early morning service when a priest, entering from the water gate,
brought a gold pitcher full of water from the Pool of Siloam. At the
sacred altar it was mixed with wine and through silver basins and pipes
sent on its way to Chedron while a thousand trumpets proclaimed the
ceremony. But it was at night the great crowds thronged the Temple at
the most festive of all Jewish holidays for at this time the Great
Lights were lit, the altar piled with leafy offerings brought by
pilgrims from all Palestine, and the thanksgiving music of the priestly
choir made a glorious shout of rejoicing.

Into the Court of the Gentiles the crowds passed, and up the marble
steps of the Beautiful Gate with its Parian marble sculptured in gold
and set with jewels. There had been the brightness of flambeau and
lanterns in the outer court, but it was in the Court of Women that the
Great Lights, branching out on high supports, were lighted. Just
beyond this pillared and shining court and approached by fifteen marble
steps, rose the Nicantor Gate with its titanic doors of Corinthian
brass, more costly than fine gold, and towering to such a height that
the moving throng looked like a line of ants creeping between its
burnished pillars.

In the crowd thronging the Court of Women was Zador Ben Amon, and with
him a Temple lawyer, who passed here and there to hear what the
populace might be saying. When the people had turned toward the
Nicantor Gate, just beyond which ten thousand candles illuminated the
willow-decked altar, Zador stopped suddenly and stepped aside saying,
"Let us tarry. I would use