[The crowing of the cock] had already announced the near approach of morning, yet all was still in the streets of Jerusalem and in the temple, when Elisama, Helon, and the faithful Sallu, their upper garments girt short around them, with sandals on their feet, and staves in their hands, passed through the gate of Ephraim, and took the road to Anathoth.
They entered the territory of the tribe of Benjamin as soon as they had passed the gate. Jerusalem lay on [the confines of Judah and Benjamin], as the metropolis of the whole people, and not belonging to any one tribe exclusively. Since the return from the captivity the distinction of the tribes had been obliterated, with the exception of that of Levi, and, strictly speaking, only the name remained in the case of the others, as a cherished memorial of former times.
[A beautiful and fruitful plain], yet with something of declivity, lay before them, the only level ground in the immediate vicinity of the city. On whichever side you quit Jerusalem, the ground falls, for Jerusalem stands elevated and conspicuous on the surface of the earth, as it does in the history of the world. It was growing light when they came into the King’s valley, so called because it was here that Melchisedec, priest of the Most High God and King of Salem had met Abram,[[9]] returning triumphant from his battle with Chedorlaomer and his confederate kings, and brought wine and bread to the patriarch and blessed him, and said, “Blessed be Abram of the Most High God, the possessor of heaven and earth, and blessed be the Most High God, who hath delivered thine enemies into thy hand.” Here too the king of Sodom came to meet Abram. They passed along this beautiful valley, which was beginning to be brightened by the first beams of the sun; the sickle of the reapers was heard on every side, and they congratulated themselves on being permitted to visit scenes where holy men had walked. “These,” said Elisama, “are truly consecrated spots; the memory of the events which passed here lives from generation to generation, and has outlasted the pillar which Absalom raised yonder, hoping to perpetuate his name by this monument, when he had no son to preserve it.[[10]] He had no son, because he had shown that he could not teach him to honour a father; his monument has disappeared; no man mentions [the pillar of Absalom]; but the friendly meeting of the kings will be handed down to the latest posterity, in the name which this valley bears.”
Helon was silent; for he perceived that his uncle had involuntarily awakened a thought in his own mind, which never failed to give him pain. Elisama had no children, and he regarded this as a grievous punishment from heaven, for some unknown sin which he had committed. With an agitated voice he turned to Helon and gave him his hand; “Be thou,” he said, “my son! Like Absalom, I have sinned. I did indeed honour my father to his dying day; but the ways of the Lord are unsearchable; he is righteous, and it becomes me to say with David, 'Who can tell how often he transgresseth! Cleanse thou me from secret faults.'”
“I am thy son,” replied Helon, and pressed Elisama’s hand. “But here while Israel rejoices around us, in this lovely valley, in the blessing of the harvest, let joy and thankfulness alone occupy our minds.”
They proceeded on their way. The fields of barley stood, golden ripe, on either side of the road; troops of reapers were on their way to the harvest, and the sound of the sickle, the song of the labourer, and the rolling of the threshing-wain resounded through the air. While rows of the reapers were busy in cutting down the grain, others were binding up the sheaves, tying the stalks not far from the ears. Here a corner of the field was left for the poor;[[11]] there a field already reaped was affording them a gleaning. Some were carrying their sheaves to the [threshing-floor], others were loading them on waggons to convey them thither. They past one of these threshing-floors: it was an open place in the fields, where the soil had been made hard and smooth by stamping; the width was on an average from thirty to forty paces, and oxen, unmuzzled, according to the law, were treading out the grain.[[12]] In another, which belonged to a rich man, a servant sat upon the threshing-wain, guiding the beasts, who dragged this machine, with its iron-shod wheels, over the sheaves, while another, following behind, shook up the straw with a fork. All were enlivening their various labours with a song; and such passages as these might frequently be heard,
He watereth the hills from his chambers,
The earth is satisfied with the fruit of his works.
He causeth grass to grow for cattle,
And herb for the service of man,