"'What is his appearance, and where doth he dwell?' I inquired, more deeply interested.
"'He abides at present at Bethany, my own city. He is so beloved by us, that we detain him as our guest. But he dwelleth at other times with his mother, a holy widow of great sanctity and matronly dignity, living at Nazareth in humble condition, and he contributes by labor to her support, with the most exemplary filial piety. No person ever approaches and speaks with him without leaving a wiser and better man.'
"'Verily,' said Joseph and I together, 'you have only increased our desire to behold him. His appearance must be noble.'
"'There sits upon his brow a serene dignity, tempered with mildness, that commands the respect of age, and wins the confiding love of childhood. His eyes beam with a light, calm and pure, as if shining from interior holy thoughts, and they rest upon you, when he speaks, with a tenderness that is like the dewy light of the young mother's gaze, when she bends in silent happiness and tears over the face of her first-born. His face is one soft sunshine of smiling rays, tempered in an indescribable manner with a settled look of sadness, an almost imperceptible shade of permanent sorrow, that seems to foreshadow a life of trial and suffering.'
"'He must be another prophet,' said Joseph, with deep earnestness.
"'He does not prophesy, nor preach,' answered the young man.
"'What is his name?' I asked.
"'Jesus, the Nazarene.'
"As the young man was then about to move away, I asked him his name, as he had greatly drawn out my heart towards him, and I felt that if I could be his friend, and the friend of the wise young man of Nazareth, I should be perfectly happy and have no other desire—save, indeed, to live till the Messiah came, that I might behold him, and lay my head upon his sacred bosom.
"'My name is Lazarus, the Scribe,' he answered."