My Dear Father:

I shall now resume the narrative interrupted by the close of my last letter.

The excitement which the sudden disappearance of Jesus produced, led to a universal separation of the multitude. No one knew whence he had gone save John, Mary's cousin, and Lazarus, who reverently followed him. The prophet John, of Jordan, appeared to me to be more surprised at what had taken place than any others. He looked constantly around for Jesus, and then, with his hands clasped together and uplifted, gazed heavenward, as if satisfied, with the thousands around him, that He had been received up into heaven.

Rabbi Amos and our party remained standing near the water, for he desired to speak with John, who stood alone in the midst of the water, precisely where he had baptized Jesus. Not one of his disciples remained with him. Rabbi Amos drew near, and said to him:

"Holy prophet, knowest thou what man, if man he may be called, was just baptized by thee?"

The prophet, whose eyes had been steadfastly raised all the while, bent his looks with tearful tenderness upon Rabbi Amos, and said, plaintively and touchingly:

"This is he of whom I spake, After me cometh a man which is preferred before me, for he was before me. And I knew him not; but he that sent me to baptize with water, the same said unto me, Upon whom thou shalt see the Spirit descending and remaining on him, the same is he that baptizeth with the Holy Ghost. And I saw the Spirit descending like a dove; and I saw and bear record that this is the Son of God."

"And whither, oh, holy prophet of Jordan," asked Rabbi Amos, with deep and sacred interest, "whither has he departed?"

"That I know not. He must increase and I must decrease, whether he remaineth on earth or has been taken up into heaven. My mission is now drawing to its close, for he to whom I have borne witness is come."

Thus speaking, he turned and walked out of the water on the side towards Bethabara, and disappeared among the trees that fringed the bank. I now looked in the face of Rabbi Amos, upon whose arm Mary was tearfully leaning. His face was grave and thoughtful. I said, "Uncle, dost thou believe all that thou hast seen and heard?"

"I know not what to say," he answered, "only that the things which I have beheld this day are evidences that God has not forgotten his people Israel." He said no more. We left the banks of the Jordan in silence and awe, and remounting our mules, returned towards my uncle's house at Gilgal. On the way we constantly passed crowds of people, all in high talk about the wonderful events which had taken place at the river. The impression seemed universally to be that Jesus had gone up into heaven after he was baptized.

But, my dear father, it is with deep joy that I am able to tell you that this wonderful person is still on the earth. I stated that my cousin John and Lazarus had kept their eyes upon him from the first, and that they had seen him pass down the river, where some projecting and overhanging trees hid him at once from view. Though they often lost sight of him, they yet followed him by the print of his sandals in the wet sand of the shore, and at length came in view of him, as he was leaving the river bank, and going towards the desert, between two low hills, which hid him from their eyes.

They went on, but though they moved forward rapidly, they next saw him far distant, crossing the arid plain that stretches south towards Jericho and the desert. They ran very swiftly, and at length coming near him, called, "Master, good master, stay for us, for we would follow and learn of thee!"

He stopped, and turned upon them a visage so pale and marred with sadness and anguish, that they both stood still and gazed upon him with amazement at beholding such a change. The glory of his beauty had passed away, and the beaming splendor which shone upon his countenance was wholly gone. The expression of unutterable sorrow that remained pierced them to the heart. Lazarus, who had been so long his bosom friend, wept aloud. "Weep not! thou shalt see me another day, my friends," he said. "I now go to the wilderness, in obedience to the Spirit which guideth me thither. Thou shalt, after a time, behold me again. It is expedient for you that I go whither I go."

"Nay, but we will go with thee," said Lazarus, earnestly. "If thou art to endure evil, we will be with thee."

"There must be none to help. There must be none to uphold," he said firmly, but sadly. "I must tread the winepress of temptation alone!"

He then left them, waving his hand for them to go back. They obeyed sorrowfully, wondering what his words meant, and wherefore it was needful for him to go into the desert, where certain mysterious trials seemed to wait for him; and they wondered most of all at the change in his countenance, which, from being lustrous with celestial light, was now, said Lazarus, "marred more than the sons of men." From time to time the two young men looked backward to watch the receding figure of the Christ, till they no longer distinguished him in the distance of the desert, towards the dreadful solitudes of which he steadfastly kept his face.

The two friends came on to the house of Rabbi Amos, at Gilgal, the same night, and we sat together late at night upon the porch under the fig trees, talking of Jesus.

Now, my dear father, how wonderful is all this! That a great Prophet is among us, cannot be denied. The star of John the Baptizer's fame dwindles into a glow-worm before the glory of this Son of God! That he will draw all men unto him, even into the wilderness, if he takes up his abode there, cannot be questioned. But all is mystery, awe, curiosity, wonder, and excitement just now.

May the God of our fathers' house come forth indeed from the heavens, for the salvation of his people!

Your devoted and loving,

Adina.