My Dear Father:

This morning, as I was coming from the Temple, I noticed a vast pile of edifices crowning the opposite rock, which I was told was the Tower of Antonia. It seemed to frown sternly upon the Temple; and upon its battlements glittered, at intervals, numerous Roman eagles. I had so often heard you relate historical events connected with this celebrated castle, that I regarded it with peculiar interest. You seemed to stand by my side as I gazed upon it. The insolence and power of the Roman garrison have made the beautiful walk about the base of the tower almost deserted; but of this I was not aware; and, attended only by my Ethiopian slave, Onia, I lingered to admire the splendor of the cloister once surrounding the treasure-house of the Temple, with its terraces supported by white marble pillars, fifteen cubits high, when two Roman soldiers approached. It was then that I saw I was alone. I drew my veil closely, and would have passed them rapidly, when one of them placed himself in my path, and catching hold of my veil, tried to detain me. I left it in his grasp and was flying, when the other soldier arrested me. This was in full view of the castle, and at my shrieks the barbarians in the castle laughed aloud. At this crisis appeared a young centurion, who was on horseback, coming down the rocky path that ascends the Rock of Zion, and shouting to them, he galloped forward, and with his sword put the men to immediate flight and rescued me. In order to escort me safely to the streets below, he alighted from his horse, and leading him by the rein, walked by my side. I confess to you, dear father, I had not reached the house of my relative before my prejudices against the Romans were greatly modified. I had found in one of them as courteous a person as I had ever met with among my own countrymen, and for his sake I was willing to think better of his barbaric land and people.

While I was writing the above, a commotion without drew me to the lattice, which overlooks the street that goes out of the gate to Bethany, one of the most frequented thoroughfares in the city. The sight that met my eyes was truly imposing, but made my heart sink with shame. It was a pageant, with banners, eagles, trumpets and gilded chariots, but not the pageant of a king of Israel, like those which dazzled the streets of Jerusalem in the days of Solomon and King David; not the triumphant passage of an Israelitish prince, but of the Roman governor. Preceded by a cohort of horse, he rode in a gilded war-chariot, lolling at his ease beneath a silken shade of blue silk, fringed with gold. The horses were snowy-white, and covered with silver mail, and adorned with plumes. He was followed by another body of cavalry, and at the head of them, looking more like a ruler and prince than did the indolent Pilate, I beheld the generous centurion who had aided my escape from the two soldiers. His eye sought the lattice at which I stood, and I drew back, but not before he had seen me and saluted me. Certainly, father, this youth is noble and courteous enough to be a Jew, and should any providence cause us to meet again, I shall try to convert him from his idolatry to serve the living Jehovah.

You will remember, dear father, that I alluded to an excitement that is increasing every day, in reference to a new prophet, who is preaching in the wilderness of Jericho. For three weeks past several parties of citizens have been to the valley of Jordan to see and hear him, and have so far been carried away by him as to have been baptized of him in Jordan, confessing their sins. Among them is John, the cousin and betrothed of Mary. Upon his return we saw that his countenance was animated beyond its wont, for he is usually of a sad and gentle aspect, and that his fine eyes beamed with an ardent hope, that seemed new-born to his soul. He thus recounted to us his visit to the prophet of Jordan:

"After leaving the gate of the city I soon reached the pretty town of Bethpage, where, at the inn, I beheld several horsemen just mounting, to go in the direction of Jericho. On joining the cavalcade, I learned they were for the most part drawn out of Jerusalem on the same errand with myself. One of them, a wealthy young noble of Arimathea, was actuated by the same holy desire that burned in my bosom, a desire that we might, in the prophet who was called John, discover a man sent from God. The others were bent on commerce, on pleasure, or mere idle curiosity. As Joseph of Arimathea and I rode together, we conversed about the man we expected to see. My companion seemed to believe that he was a true prophet, for being very well read in the Scriptures, he said that the seventy weeks of Daniel were now about completed, when the Messiah was to come! I then asked him if he believed that the Messiah, who was to be a 'Prince and king and have dominion from the sea to the ends of the earth,' would come in the wilderness, clad in the skin of wild beasts? To this he replied that he could not regard this prophet as the Messiah, for when the Christ should come, he was 'suddenly to come to the Temple,' and that we should doubtless first see him there; but that he was greatly in hopes that the prophet we were going to see would prove to be the forerunner, foretold by Malachi.

"'Those who heard him,' said Joseph, as we rode into the village of Bethany, 'say that he publicly proclaims himself the forerunner of the Messiah. The opinion of the more ignorant who have listened to him, is that it is Elijah himself, returned to the earth. Others assert that it is Enoch come down from heaven, and not a few believe him to be Isaiah.'"

At this point of the narrative of the cousin of Mary, dear father, I will close this letter. In my next I will resume his narrative, for when I have given it to you wholly, I have many things to ask you to which it gives rise in my mind. May the blessing of the God of Israel be upon thee, my dearest father!

Adina.