Caesars rose and fell; the great
Temple was at length almost completed in its glory, and many events
happened which are remembered even to this day.
But in the little village of the Essenes by the grey shores of the Dead
Sea, nothing seemed to change, except that now and again an aged brother
died, and now and again a new brother was admitted. They rose before
daylight and offered their invocation to the sun; they went out to
toil in the fields and sowed their crops, to reap them in due season,
thankful if they were good, still thankful if they were bad. They
washed, they prayed, they mourned over the wickedness of the world, and
wove themselves white garments emblematic of a better. Also, although
of this Miriam knew nothing, they held higher and more secret services
wherein they invoked the presence of their "angels," and by arts of
divination that were known to them, foretold the future, an exercise
which brought them little joy. But as yet, however evil might be the
omens, none came to molest their peaceful life, which ran quietly
towards the great catastrophe as often deep waters swirl to the lip of a
precipice.
At length when Miriam was seventeen years of age, the first stroke of
trouble fell upon them.
Pages:
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105