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if we wuz bein’ took to jail. We then went into a large beautiful room where the Princess’ Lady of Honor wuz tryin’, I spoze, to be jest as honorable as she could be. But to my surprise she handed us the first thing some coffee and pipes to smoke. But such a pipe never entered Jonesville. Why, the pipe stem was six feet long, amber and gold, diamonds and rubies. Good land! it wuz most enough to get a perfessor and a member of the W.C.T.U. to smokin’. But I wuzn’t to be enticed; I sort o’ waved it off graceful and drinked a little coffee, which wuz good, and if you’ll believe it the little holders that held our cups wuz all covered with diamonds. Then six more slaves, jest as pretty, with jest as fine clothes and with as many jewels, came to tell us the Princess would see us. And we went with them through room after room, each one seemin’ly more elegant than the others, till we reached the door of a great grand apartment, and here the Princess wuz surrounded by more slaves, dressed handsomer than any we’d seen yet.

She come forward to meet us and led the way to a beautiful divan, where we sot down. Here they offered us some more of the beautiful jewelled pipes agin, and agin I stood firm and so did Miss Meechim, but the Princess smoked a little. But the tobacco wuz perfumed so delightfully that there wuz no tobacco smell to it.

Then coffee wuz passed agin in a jewelled cup and agin I sipped a little on’t, thinkin’ like as not it would keep me awake it wuz so strong, but knowin’ that I had got to be polite anyway in such a time as this.

She talked quite good English and we had a pleasant visit with her, and anon she took each on us by the hand––for 260 all the world they acted as if we wuz infants and couldn’t walk alone––and led us through the magnificent rooms with lofty mirrors, furniture covered with costly Persian cloth embroidered with gold and silver, great rugs of the most exquisite color and texture, mounds of flowers, baskets and vases everywhere running over with them, makin’ the air sweet with their perfume.

In one room there wuz no winders, the walls bein’ made of glitterin’ mirrors sot in gilded frames, light comin’ down through stained glass in the gilded ceiling.

On the Princess’ toilet table wuz a large gold tray holdin’ a basin of perfumed water, and white silk towels embroidered in gold and silver.

I remembered my crash and huck-a-buck towels and thought to myself I didn’t know what she would do if she ever come to see me, unless I took one of Josiah’s silk handkerchiefs for her to wipe her hands on. But concluded I would do that if she ever paid my visit. And I thought the minute I got home I would paint the bowl of the pipe we had used for tizik, a pale blue or pink, and dry some extra fine mullen leaves and catnip blows, they smell real sweet to me, and I knew they would be good for her bronkial tubes anyway. And I laid out to make up in a warm welcome what we lacked in luxury.

Well, the last room we went into we wuz served in tiny cups with a delicate drink. Lemonade, I guess it wuz, or orange and fruit juice of some kind. It wuz served to us in jewelled cups and we had gold embroidered napkins. Here the Princess thanked us for our visit and retired, followed by the slaves who had gone with us through the palace.

And we went down the staircase with a girl on each side on us jest as we went up, so if Miss Meechim and I had had any mind to break away and act, we couldn’t, and went to our carriage waited on jest as when we come. Miss Meechim said as we started back:

261

“Did you ever see the like? Was you prepared to see such magnificence, Josiah Allen’s wife?”

And I told her I wuz partly prepared, for I had read the Arabian Night’s Entertainment.

“Well,” sez she, “it goes fur beyend my wildest dreams of luxury.”

When we got back to the tarven we found that Robert Strong had been delayed by a visitor and wuz jest startin’ for Heliopolis, and Miss Meechim and I bein’ all ready we turned round and went with ’em.

Heliopolis hain’t so grand lookin’ as its name. It is a little Arab town six miles from Cairo. The low houses are made of mud and nasty inside, I believe; they don’t look much like Jonesville houses. The oldest and greatest college once stood here. Here, too, wuz the hant of that immortal bird, the Phenix, who raised himself to life every five hundred years. (Josiah don’t believe a word on’t, and I don’t know as I do.) But we do spoze that wuz the very place where Joseph married the daughter of Mr. Potiphar, doin’ dretful well, it wuz spozed by her folks, but he wuz plenty good enough for her, I think, and so Josiah duz.

And right in this neighborhood Alexander the Great marched round and camped on his way to Memphis. So you can see it wuz interestin’ in a good many ways.

But the Virgin’s Tree wuz what we wanted to see. It is a fig sycamore; its trunk is twenty feet in diameter and its branches spread out and cover a great space. But its size wuzn’t what we went to see. Under this tree Joseph and Mary rested whilst they wuz fleeing to Egypt from them that sought the young Child’s life. Our Lord himself had been under this very tree that wuz bendin’ over me. My emotions wuz such that I didn’t want any on ’em to see my face; I went apart from ’em and sot down on a little seat not fur off from the fence that protects this tree from relic hunters. And I had a large number of emotions as I sot there lookin’ up into the green branches.

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I wondered how Mary felt as she sot there. She knowed she wuz carryin’ a sacred burden on her bosom. The Star that had guided the wise men to the cradle of her Baby had shone full into his face and she’d seen the Divinity there. Angels had heralded His birth; the frightened king looked upon Him as one who would take his kingdom from him, and an angel had bidden them to take the Child and flee to Egypt.

And how happy Joseph and Mary wuz as they sot down under this tree. All their journey over the weary rocky roads, over the mountains, through the streams and the valleys, and over the sandy desert they dassent rest, but wuz lookin’ behind ’em all the time as they pressed forward, expectin’ to hear the gallopin’ steeds of the king, and to hear the cruel cries of his blood-thirsty soldiers. Why, just think on’t: every other baby boy in the country put to death jest to be sure of makin’ way with the child that she held to her bosom. How would any mother have felt; how would any mother’s heart beat and soul faint within ’em as they plodded away on a donkey, knowin’ that the swiftest horses of the king wuz mebby follerin’ clost behind? But it wuz all past now; under the shade of this noble old tree Mary sot down, happiness in her tired eyes, ontold relief in the weary heart on which the Child leaned.

I believe they laid down there under the starry heavens and went to sleep; mebby the Star shone down on ’em as they slep’, seein’ they wuz safe now and Herod couldn’t touch ’em even if he wuz clost to ’em.

Egypt, blessed be thy turf and thy skies forever more, since thou hast sheltered the Lord!

And while back in Jerusalem the blood-thirsty soldiers wuz rushin’ to and fro seekin’ for the young Child that they might destroy him, and in his palace King Herod lay in troubled sleep under the close-drawn curtains of the royal couch, slaves watchin’ outside the room, slaves watchin’ his fearful thorn-strewn pillow, the little Child that he feared 263 and sought to destroy, slept with the clear midnight sky bendin’ over his sweet slumber, its matchless blue curtain looped up with stars, hung with the great silver night lamp of the crescent moon. His bed-chamber the broad plains and mountains and valleys of the world Which should yet own his peaceful sway. His guard the shining angels that had flown down to herald His coming on the fields of Bethlehem. Sleep well, little Child, with thy kingdom outstretched about thee, the hull grief-smitten world, upon which thou wast to lay thy hands and heal its woes and wounds. The divine clothin’ itself in the sad garments of humanity that it might lift it up into heavenly heights.

Well, we stayed there quite a spell. Robert, I could see, felt a good deal as I did and so did Dorothy; I read in her sweet eyes the tender light that meant many things. But Miss Meechim had doubts about the tree. She looked all round it, and felt of the low, droopin’ branches and looked clost at the bark. She is a great case for the bark of things, Miss Meechim is, you know some be. They will set their microscopes on a little mite of bark and argy for hours about it, but don’t think of the life that is goin’ on underneath. The divine vitality of truth that animates the hidden soul of things. They think more of the creeds, the outward husks of things than the inside life and truth. Miss Meechim said with her eye still on the bark that no tree could live two centuries and still look so vigorous.

But I sez, “Mount Sinai looks pretty firm and stiddy, and the Red Sea I spoze looks jest about as red and hearty as it did when the Israelites crossed it.”

She wuz examinin’ the bark through her eye glasses, but she said mountains and seas could stand more than a tree And I said I guessed the hand that made a tree could keep it alive.

And I knew that it didn’t make any difference anyway. This wuz the road they come and they had to rest anyway, and it stood to reason they would rest under a tree, and I felt 264 that this wuz the tree, though it might have been another one nigh by. And while Miss Meechim’s mind was all taken up lookin’ at the bark of that tree, my mind wuz full of this great fact and truth, that the Child wuz saved from his enemies. And while the kingdom of the wicked king has been covered and lost from sight under the sands of time for centuries, the kingdom of the Holy Child stands firmer to-day than ever before, and is broadening and widening all the time, teaching the true brotherhood of man, and fatherhood of God. This is the great truth, all the branching creeds and arguments and isms, they are only the bark.

Nigh by the tree stands a tall piller sixty-four feet high, covered with strange writin’. As I looked at it I thought I would gin a dollar bill to have read that writin’, no knowin’ what strange secrets of the past would have been revealed to me. But I couldn’t read it, it is dretful writin’. Josiah sometimes makes fun of my handwritin’ and calls it ducks’ tracks, but I thought that if he’d seen this he’d thought that mine wuz like print compared to it. They say that this is the oldest obelisk in Egypt, and that is sayin’ a good deal, for Egypt is full of former greatness old as the hills.

Here in the East civilization begun, and gradual, gradual it stalked along towards the West, and is slowly, slowly marchin’ on round the world back to where it started from, and when the round world is belted with knowledge and Christianity, then mebby will come the thousand years of peace, the millennium the Scriptures have foretold, when the lamb shall lay down with the lion and a young child shall lead them. I spoze the young child means the baby Peace that shall bime-by lead the nations along into the World Beautiful. And there shall be no more war.

265 CHAPTER XXIII

Cairo is different from any other city under the sun, and after you’ve been there when you shet you eyes and see it agin in memory, the brilliant colorin’ sheds its picturesque glow over the brilliant seen. The deep bright blue of the sky, the splendor of the sunlight, the dazzlin’ white of the buildings, the soft mellow brown of the

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