Jerusalem—Third Morning after the Crucifixion.

My Dear Father:

On the day on which the wonderful events took place which I have detailed at large in my last letter, the chief priests, at the head of whom was Annas, met Pilate as he was riding forth from the city, attended by a score of men-at-arms, to survey the deep rents made by the earthquake, and to hear from the mouths of all the people the particulars of the marvels which attended the crucifixion of Jesus. When they came near him, they besought him that he would command his soldiers to take down the bodies, as the next day was a high-day, and that it was contrary to their customs to have criminals executed or left hanging on that day.

"What think ye?" demanded Pilate, reining up and soothing his Syrian war-horse, which, startled at the dead bodies that lay near (for they were crossing the place of the opened tombs), had for some time tramped and plunged madly. "What think ye, priests! Have ye crucified a man or a god? We think these mighty wonders tell us that he was more than a man!"

The priests looked troubled, and seemed unable to answer. But Terah, chief priest of the house of Mariah, answered and said:

"My lord, these were wonderful phenomena, but they would have happened if this Nazarene had not died! Here is a famous astrologer from Arabia, who studies the skies, who says that this darkness was caused by an eclipse of the sun! The dark cloud was but the smoke of the sacrifices, while the earthquake was but a natural and usual occurrence!"

"Stay, sir priest," answered Pilate; "we at Rome, though called barbarians by you polished Jews, have some scholarship in astrology. We know well that an eclipse of the sun can take place only when the moon is new! It is to-day, on this eve of the high-day, at its full, and will to-night rise nearly opposite the sun! It was no eclipse, sir priest, and thy Arabian is a false astrologer. These events occurred because that divine man, your king, has been executed."

Thus speaking, the Roman Procurator spurred on towards the place, followed by his body-guard; now avoiding an open grave, now leaping one of the freshly opened chasms, now turning aside from some body cast up by the earthquake. When he came in front of the crosses, he saw that Jesus hung as if dead, while the thieves still breathed and from time to time heaved groans of anguish, although partly insensible from the effects of the opiate which had been administered to them.

"Think you, Romulus, that he has any life in him?" asked Pilate, in a subdued tone of voice, gazing sorrowfully, and with looks of self-reproach, upon the drooping form of his victim.

"He is dead an hour ago," answered the centurion. "He expired when the earthquake shook the city, and the flaming sword was unsheathed in the air above the Temple! It was a fearful sight, sir, and the more wonderful to see it change in the shape of a cross of fire. I fear, sir, we have crucified one of the gods in the shape of a man."

"It would appear so, centurion," answered Pilate, shaking his head. "I would it had not been done! But 'tis past! The Jews desire their bodies to be removed before their great Sabbath. Let them have their desire."

Pilate then turned his horse and rode slowly and sadly away from the spot. Romulus gave orders to his soldiers to remove the bodies. When the soldiers came to Jesus they saw that he was already dead.

"Let us not break his legs," said one to the other; "it were sacrilege to mar such a manly form."

"Yet we must insure his death, ere he can be taken away," responded the other. "I will pierce him to make sure!"

Thus speaking, the soldier directed his spear to the side of Jesus, and cleaved the flesh to his heart. John, who stood near, and saw and heard all, upon seeing this done bowed his head to the earth in total abandonment of hope!

When he raised his head to gaze upon his crucified Master, he saw flowing from the rent in his side two fountains together, one of crimson blood, and lo! the other of crystal water! He could not believe what he saw, until the soldiers and the centurion expressed aloud their wonder at such a marvel.

"Never was such a man crucified before," exclaimed the centurion.

In the meanwhile, Rabbi Joseph, the counsellor of Arimathea, who stands high in favor with Pilate, met the Governor as he was skirting the wall of the city with his cohort, and asked him if, after Jesus should be pronounced dead, he might take down the body and give it sepulchre.

"Go and receive the body of this wonderful man," said Pilate. "Methinks thou art one who knew him well. What thinkest thou of him, Rabbi?" Joseph perceived that Pilate asked the question with deep interest, seemingly very greatly troubled in mind, and he answered him boldly:

"I believe that he was a Prophet sent from God, your excellency, and that to-day has died on Calvary the most virtuous, the wisest, and the most innocent man in CÆsar's empire."

"My conscience echoes your words," answered Pilate, gloomily; and putting spurs to his horse, he galloped forward in the direction of the Gethsemane Gardens.

Proceeding to the cross, Joseph, by the aid of Lazarus, Simon Peter, Mary, Martha, and Rabbi Amos, took it out of the socket in the rock, with its precious burden, and gently laid it upon the ground with the body still extended upon it.

In the still, holy twilight of that dread day, the west all shadowy gold and mellow light, the air asleep, and a sacred silence reigning in heaven and on earth, they bore away from the hill of death the body of the dead Prophet. The shoulders of Nicodemus, of Peter, of Lazarus, and of John, gently sustained the loving weight of Him they once honored above all men, and whom, though proved by his death, as they believed, to have fatally deceived himself as to his divine mission as the Christ, they still loved for his sorrows so patiently borne, for his virtues so vividly remembered.

Slowly the little group wound their way along the rocky surface of Golgotha, the last to leave that fearful place in the coming darkness. Their measured tread, their low whispers, the subdued wail of the women who followed the rude bier of branches, the lonely path they trod, all combined to render the spectacle one of touching solemnity. The shades of evening were gathering thick around them. They took secret ways for fear of the Jews. But some that met them turned aside with awe when they knew what corpse was borne along, for the impression of the appalling scenes of the day had not yet wholly passed away from their minds. At length they reached a gate in the wall of the garden attached to the noble abode of the wealthy Rabbi Joseph, who went before, and with a key unlocked it, and admitted them into the secluded enclosure. Here the thickness of the foliage of olive and fig trees created complete darkness; for by this time the evening star was burning like a lamp in the roseate west. They rested the bier upon the pavement beneath the arch, and awaited in silence and darkness the appearance of torches which Rabbi Joseph had sent for to his house. The servants bearing them were soon seen advancing, the flickering light from the flambeaux giving all things visible by it a wild aspect, in keeping with the hour.

"Follow me," said Joseph, in a low voice, that was full charged with deep sorrow, as the servants preceded him with their torches.

The sad bearers of the dead body of Jesus raised their sacred burden from the ground, and trod onward, their measured foot-falls echoing among the aisles of the garden. At its farther extremity, where the rock hangs beetling over the valley, and forms at this place the wall of the garden, was a shallow flight of stone steps leading to a new tomb hewn out of the rock. It had been constructed for the Rabbi himself, and had just been completed, and in it no man had ever been laid.

The servants, by command of Joseph, rolled back the stone, and exposed the dark vault of the gaping sepulchre.

"How is it, most worthy Rabbi," said a Roman centurion, suddenly apprizing them of his presence by his voice, "that you bury thus with honor a man who has proved himself unable to keep the dazzling promises he has allured so many of you with?"

All present turned with surprise at seeing not only the centurion, but half a score of men-at-arms, on whose helmets and cuirasses the torches brightly gleamed, marching across the grass towards the spot.

"What means this intrusion, Roman?" asked Rabbi Joseph.

"I am sent hither by command of the Procurator," answered the centurion; "the chief Jews have had an interview with him, informing him that the man whom he had crucified had foretold that after three days he would rise again. They, therefore, asked a guard to be given them to place over the sepulchre, till the third day, lest his disciples secretly withdraw the body, and report that their master is risen. Pilate, therefore, has commanded me to keep watch to-night with my men."

"We bury him with this deference and respect, centurion," answered Rabbi Joseph, "because we believe him to have been deceived, not a deceiver. He was gifted by God with vast power, and therefore doubtless believed he could do all things. He was too holy, wise, and good to deceive. He has fallen a victim to his own wishes for the weal of Israel which were impossible by man to be realized."

The body of Jesus, wrapped in its shroud of spotless linen, and surrounded by the preserving spices of Arabia, was then borne into the tomb, and laid reverently upon the table of stone which Joseph had prepared for his own last resting-place. Simon Peter was the last to quit the side of the body, by which he knelt as if he would never leave it, shedding all the while great tears of bitter grief. John only, at last, drawing him gently forth, enabled the centurion and soldiers to close the heavy door of the tomb. Having secured it evenly by revolving it in its socket, the signet-bearer of the Procurator, who had come with the soldiers, placed a mass of wax, melted by a torch, upon each side of it over the crevices, and stamped each with the Imperial signet, which to break is death!

The Jews who were present, seeing that the sepulchre was thus made sure by the sealing of the stone, and by the setting of the vigilant Roman watch of eighteen men, took their departure. Rabbi Joseph, Nicodemus, and the rest of the friends of Jesus, then slowly retired, leaving a sentinel pacing to and fro before the tomb, and others grouped about beneath the trees or on the steps of the sepulchre, playing at their favorite game of dice, or gazing upon the broad moon, conversing, or singing their native Italian airs; yet with their arms at hand, ready to spring to their feet at the least alarm or word of alert.

(Something fearful must this instant have happened, for the house has just shaken as if with an earthquake. What can be the meaning of these wonders?)

This morning Mary and Martha, with others, have gone to visit Jesus' tomb in Joseph's garden (as I have already said), for the purpose of embalming the body, and on their return we are to go to Bethany for a few days, until the violent hostility of the Jews to his followers subsides.

I hear now the voices of Mary and Martha, in the court of the street, returning from the tomb. They are pitched to a wild note of joy! What can mean the commotion—the exclamations—the running, and shouting, all through the corridors and court? I must close, and fly to learn what new terror or wonder has occurred.

In haste, your affectionate daughter,

Adina.