For the Temple | Page 2

G. A. Henty
these times."
"Plenty, John; there are baskets and baskets of figs to be stripped from
the trees, and hung up to dry for the winter and, next week, we are
going to begin the grape harvest. But the figs are the principal matter,
at present; and I think that it would be far more useful for you to go and
help old Isaac and his son, in getting them in, than in lying there
watching the lake."
"I suppose it would, mother," the lad said, rising briskly; for his fits of
indolence were by no means common and, as a rule, he was ready to

assist at any work which might be going on.
"I do not wonder at John loving the lake," his mother said to herself,
when the lad had hurried away. "It is a fair scene; and it may be, as
Simon thinks, that a change may come over it, before long, and that
ruin and desolation may fall upon us all."
There were, indeed, few scenes which could surpass in tranquil beauty
that which Martha, the wife of Simon, was looking upon--the sheet of
sparkling water, with its low shores dotted with towns and villages.
Down the lake, on the opposite shore, rose the walls and citadel of
Tiberias, with many stately buildings; for although Tiberias was not,
now, the chief town of Galilee--for Sepphoris had usurped its place--it
had been the seat of the Roman authority, and the kings who ruled the
country for Rome generally dwelt there. Half a mile from the spot
where Martha was standing rose the newly-erected walls of Hippos.
Where the towns and villages did not engross the shore, the rich
orchards and vineyards extended down to the very edge of the water.
The plain of Galilee was a veritable garden. Here flourished, in the
greatest abundance, the vine and the fig; while the low hills were
covered with olive groves, and the corn waved thickly on the rich, fat
land. No region on the earth's face possessed a fairer climate. The heat
was never extreme; the winds blowing from the Great Sea brought the
needed moisture for the vegetation; and so soft and equable was the air
that, for ten months in the year, grapes and figs could be gathered.
The population, supported by the abundant fruits of the earth, was very
large. Villages--which would elsewhere be called towns, for those
containing but a few thousand inhabitants were regarded as small,
indeed--were scattered thickly over the plain; and few areas of equal
dimensions could show a population approaching that which inhabited
the plains and slopes between the Sea of Galilee and the Mediterranean.
None could then have dreamed of the dangers that were to come, or
believed that this rich cultivation and teeming population would
disappear; and that, in time, a few flocks of wandering sheep would
scarce be able to find herbage growing, on the wastes of land which
would take the place of this fertile soil.

Certainly no such thought as this occurred to Martha, as she re-entered
the house; though she did fear that trouble, and ruin, might be
approaching.
John was soon at work among the fig trees, aiding Isaac and his son
Reuben--a lad of some fifteen years--to pick the soft, luscious fruit, and
carry it to the little courtyard, shaded from the rays of the sun by an
overhead trellis work, covered with vines and almost bending beneath
the purple bunches of grapes. Miriam--the old nurse--and four or five
maid servants, under the eye of Martha, tied them in rows on strings,
and fastened them to pegs driven into that side of the house upon which
the sun beat down most hotly. It was only the best fruit that was so
served; for that which had been damaged in the picking, and all of
smaller size, were laid on trays in the sun. The girls chatted merrily as
they worked; for Martha, although a good housewife, was a gentle
mistress and, so long as fingers were busy, heeded not if the tongue ran
on.
"Let the damsels be happy, while they may," she would say, if Miriam
scolded a little when the laughter rose louder than usual. "Let them be
happy, while they can; who knows what lies in the future?"
But at present, the future cast no shade upon the group; nor upon a girl
of about fourteen years old, who danced in and out of the courtyard in
the highest spirits, now stopping a few minutes to string the figs, then
scampering away with an empty basket which, when she reached the
gatherers, she placed on her head and supported demurely, for a little
while, at the foot of the ladder upon which John was perched--so that
he could lay the figs in
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