The Washington times. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1902-1939, 1923-04-08
There Shall BeNo More Doath"

and lift up their hands and weep
for JOY. This was the city of de-
sire.
"What's the matter? What are
you stopping for?"
Cypros, already a dozen yards
in advance, was calling back over
her shoulder.
Cassandra's ass moved again.
The purple-seeded grass brushed
it's legs. A butterfly fiuttered up
before it, it's painted wings flicker
ing like quick eyelids.
Don't pull up just because all
these sheep-brained peasants are
saying their prayers in the middle
of the road. Wen have to hurry,
or the sun will be tanning our
faces before we can get to shelter.
don't know how you feel, but I'm
aching for bath. Have you ever
tried washing yourself with milk
it's wonderful for the skinv'
"No," said Cassandra.
The pilgrims were moving for
ward again. Dust rose before the
hoofs of the mules and asses, and
the year-old lambs ceased to bleat
as they were driven more quickly.
Hair-cloth tents and huts of mat
ting began to appear-the shelters
Of those who had been unable to
secure any other lodging for the
festival.
beautiful for situation, the joy
Of the whole earth, is Mount Zion,
the city of the great KingY'
A hundred voices took up the
hymn-sonorous, and with note
as of noble triumph.
White as the wings of dove
appeared the massive towers that
were constructed of thirty-foot
blocks of marble, the domes, the
ranges of classic columns where
the facade of some palace was up
lifted to take the morning. The
city, outspread upon its hills,
seemed to mirror lustre upon its
marble surfaces like that which is
Graded by mother o. pearl.
The sheep paths, running down.
hill, had merged in the main high,
way, and Cypros, Cassandra and
Cypros's baggage mules were in
volved in the congestion of the pill
grim concourse.
Goods and furies! ! don't know
which is worst-the smell of
camek or the smell of a Jewv
Cypros's nostrils were dilated.
The expression upon her squam
pale face might have been that of
a person about to order a whole
sale massacre. No one paid any
attention to them. All looked one
way. A wind of the spirit went
with the dusty, slow-footed horde,
whose holiday raiment was travel
stained and who led by the halter
their little burdened asses, and
drove their jostling, dusty-footed
lambs, and bore their younger
children upon hip or shoulder.
Cassandra felt tit blew past her
like the sea wind blowing from be-
yond the hills. This was the city
of desire.
Growing a rock knoll-a sterile
outcrop of waste ground about it
was a tall wooden post with a
shorter crosspiece nailed to it.
Upon this hung the naked body of
a man. His arms outstretched along
the crosSpiece were held in place
by a nail driven through the palm
of each hand. His feet, which
were only a few inches from the
ground, had been placed one over
the other and a nail driven
through them into the wood of the
E, upright post. His head sagged for.
ward, matted dark hair yelling the
face. But he was not yet dead
Probably he had been crucified
upon the preceding day and might
linger for many hours yet. Per.
haps he had been thief, perhaps
a murderer, perhaps an innocent
man wrongly accused to Roman
law.
The shadow Of the cross, thrown
westward by the barely risen sun
stretched toward the pilgrims
road. From the forefront of the
caravan came now the liquid strain
of flutes. Joy was upon every
face and the only sound of sorrow
was the plaintive bleating of the
driven lambs.
"For this God is our God fol-
ever and ever; He will be oul
guide even unto death!'
ITO Be Continued Next Sunday
Copyright. 1923. American Weekly. IncJ