Around the World with Josiah Allen's Wife

by Marietta Holley

I heard Josiah talkin’ with Tommy about “little Ben.” I hated to have him call him so, but didn’t know as it would do much hurt this late day. Right about here dwelt Ruth 288 and Naomi. A sweet girl Ruth wuz; I always thought she wuz plenty good enough for Boaz, but then I d’no but he wuz good enough for her. ’Tennyrate, her actions wuz a perfect pattern to daughter-in-laws.

Here on these sands the giant, Goliath, strode out pompously to be slain by a stun from a sling sent by David when he wuz a shepherd boy. “How I wished I had some of them stuns to slay the evil giants of 1900,” sez I. “If a stun could be aimed at Intemperance and another at the big monopolies and destroy’em as dead as Goliath, what a boon it would be.”

And Arvilly sez, “Where will you git your sling, and where will you git your Davids?”

Sez I, “The ballot is a good sling that could kill’em both stun dead, but I d’no where I could git any Davids at present,” and she didn’t nor Josiah, but I felt in hopes that there would be one riz up, for always when the occasion demands, the Lord sends the right man to fill the place.

Well, presently we arrov at Bethlehem (House of Bread). I mentioned its meaning, and Josiah sez:

“I do hope I’ll get some yeast risin’ here that will taste a little like yourn, Samantha.”

So little did he dwell on the divine meanin’ that wuz thrillin’ my heart. House of Bread, sacred spot from which proceeded the living bread, that if any one should eat he should never more hunger.

The Church of the Nativity, the place that we sought first in the village, is the oldest Christian church in the world. It wuz built by Helena, mother of Constantine, 330 A.D. It is owned by a good many different sects who quarrel quite considerable over it, as they would be likely to in Jonesville if our M. E. church wuz owned too by Baptists and Piscopalians, etc.

We spoze this church wuz built on the site of the tarven where our Lord wuz born. Goin’ down the windin’ staircase we come to the Grotto of the Nativity, which is a cave in the rock. There are several holy chapels here, but this one 289 where they say Christ wuz born is about thirty-eight feet long and ten or eleven feet wide, and covered inside with costly carving and sculpture. A star in the floor shows the place where the manger wuz where the Holy Child wuz born, a silver star glitters above it and around the star sixteen lights are burning night and day. All about here the caves in the rocks are used as stables, specially when the tarvens are full, as the Bible expressly states they wuz the night our Lord wuz born. ’Tennyrate, way back almost to the time He wuz born, historians accepted this spot as the place of His birth. But as I said more formerly, what if it wuz not this very spot, or some other nigh by, we know that it wuz in this little city our Lord wuz born. It wuz of this city that centuries before the prophets said: “And thou, Bethlehem Ephratah, though thou be little amongst the thousands of Judea, yet out of thee shall he come forth that shall be ruler of Israel, whose goings forth has been from old everlasting.”

Then and there wuz founded on earth that invisible and spiritual kingdom so much stronger and mightier than any visible kingdom that wuz ever thought on. The gorgeous throne of Herod and the long line of kings and emperors since him have crumbled into dust, but that lowly cradle in the stable of Bethlehem is onmoved. The winds and storms of eighteen hundred years have not been able to blow a straw away from that little bed where the Baby Christ lay. The crowns of kings and emperors have disappeared, covered by the dust of time, but the rays of light that shone round that Baby’s brow grow brighter and brighter as the centuries sweep by. The deepest love, the strongest emotions of the hearts of an uncounted host keep that Bethlehem birthplace green and changeless. The Herods, the Pilates, the Cæsars are dead and buried under the driftin’ centuries, but our Lord’s throne stands more firm and powerful to-day than ever before. Hatred, malice, the cross of agony, the dark tomb could not touch that immortal life. Great monarch and tender, overturnin’ and upbuildin’ empires at will, 290 blowing away cruel and unjust armies by a wave of his fingers, helping the poor slave bear his heavy burden by pouring love into his heart, wiping the widow’s tears, soothing the baby’s cries, marking even the sparrow’s fall.