Was I right?

by Mrs. O. F. Walton

So we went on to Bethany. The road must have taken the same course in our Lord's time, for there is a deep valley, and the road runs at its head. And it must have looked just the same then, with the same wild flowers growing by the wayside, the same blue mountains of Moab in front, and the same green valley beneath. Mr. Stanley pointed out to me some fig trees, growing close to the road, just as they did when the Saviour, hungry with His long walk from Bethany, searched amongst the loaves for fruit to refresh him on the way. I had had no idea before that it was so far from Jerusalem to Bethany; He must have been very weary as He went backwards and forwards every day of that last, sad week of His life on earth. Only once do we read of Him riding; it was all on foot, in the weariness and heat of the day, with the same sun beating on His head as was shining on us at that very moment.

And then, as I rode at Mr. Stanley's side, he reminded me of that last walk, when Jesus led His disciples out as far as to Bethany, and we wondered if, as they trod this road, they knew that He was so soon to leave them, and that it was the last walk that they would take with Him. If so, surely they must have been very sorrowful, surely their hearts must have been so full of the parting with Him that they must have lost sight, for a little time, of the blessing that parting was to bring to them, and the realisation of which was so soon to make them return, by that very road, to Jerusalem, "with great joy, praising and blessing God."

I never enjoyed anything so much as that ride to Bethany; it was very quiet and peaceful, for Sir William and Claude were some way in front with the dragoman, and Evelyn, who rode next with Alice, was not much inclined for conversation, and kept her laughing companion tolerably still, so that we were not interrupted in our quiet talk together.

Then we came to Bethany, a miserable, wretched, dirty village, and here a troop of squalid Arabs came out of their houses to look at us, and to beg of us, and a number of noisy dogs barked, and howled, and jumped up at our horses' heads, and we were very glad to get as quickly as possible out of the narrow, filthy street, and gradually to ascend the eastern side of the Mount of Olives.

"I think the Ascension must have taken place somewhere here," said Mr. Stanley; "it would be just far enough away from the noise of the village, and such a likely place for them to come to."

A lovely view was spread out before us; the village of Bethany lay at our feet, and then there stretched far away the great wilderness of Judea, and, beyond it, in the far distance, the fertile plain of the Jordan, like a line of silver running into the deep blue Dead Sea. Then the view was shut in by the grand Moab mountains, standing out like a wall against the sky.

"This is very fine!" said Claude, as we stood looking at it. "This is well worth coming to see!"

It was the same view that Lot had gazed on; yet where were the cities of the plain which he had seen in their glory?

Then we crossed over the top of the mountain, and began to descend the western side, by the very path which David took when fleeing from Absalom, when we read, he climbed up the ascent barefoot, and with his head covered, weeping, as he went, at the ingratitude and cruelty of his son.

We had a different view now, and yet a very beautiful one. The city of Jerusalem was lying at our feet, nestling amongst the hills.