But where to-night is Joram? Where is that benign countenance? Hush! Speak low, tread lightly! Disturb not the last moments of the dying Israelite! Joram is at the banks of Jordan. Already his feet are touching the cold waters.
The sick man turns on his pillow and faintly
“Mathias, why comes he not? Shall I not once more see my most excellent friend?”
“My dear father, he will ere long be here. The messenger is trustworthy, and will soon return.”
“The journey of life is near its close. The holy hill is in sight. I pass through the vale of death on my way to the better land. Yonder is the home of the faithful. Sorrow and mourning shall flee away.”
“He is here! He is here!” cried Jupheena.
“Has he arrived?” asked the sick man, in faint accents.
“Yea, father,” replied Mathias, in soothing tones, “he has arrived.”
“Thanks be to Jehovah!”
Presently, a man of venerable appearance, his hair silvered over with age, apparently a Chaldean, walked into the apartment. Jupheena was the first to greet him.