"What changes have taken place since you and I became acquainted first! Having delayed beyond the midnight hour on Mount Calvary, I was brought by blessed Paul, with whom I was then travelling, to your house. I regret that altered circumstances and thickening clouds compel me to make a return of hospitality in these poor quarters. All are welcome; none more so than Nicodemus. I know all are satisfied while we have Him for whose love we resign all near us under the clouds," He pointed and bowed reverently toward the chapel, and then retired to prepare for the celebration of the sacred mysteries.
Meanwhile the eyes of all were fixed with curiosity on Nicodemus. His countenance was of the most decided Jewish caste. His face bore the wrinkles of over a hundred years; but his frame, like the sturdy oak whose surface may be serried by ages, did not present the appearance of decayed strength or health.
The visitors and guests of Clement entertained themselves with anecdotes of their respective missions; of the divers ways in which Providence had enlightened them with the true faith; of the countries through which they had preached, the people they had converted, the adventures they had met, and the miracles by which God had aided and rescued them. A history such as has never been, and cannot now be written, might be gathered from these conversations. A great many, especially the younger portion, felt a wish to question Nicodemus. They desired to hear from his own lips more of that beautiful face and those shining eyes that affected his imagination so much. They knew he referred to his nocturnal interview with the Redeemer; but they longed to hear more.
"Pardon me, venerable father," said Andronicus, with more courage than the others. "We would like to hear from yourself the history of your first interview with him. We do not ask through idle curiosity, but because we love to hear every little thing about him."
"That evening and night, my children—you will excuse the liberty one so much older than yourselves takes in thus addressing you—that evening and night will never leave my memory. It was summer time. I was strolling to 'drink the evening air' beyond the Taffa gate. The ringing laughter and white garments of the young people, as they visited the springs outside the walls, aided with the freshness and beauty of the atmosphere and scenery in dispelling feelings of void and loneliness, which—I could not account for it—had been for some months creeping over me. I felt as if there were nothing in life to satisfy my heart. It was the hour for the evening sacrifice; I heard the trumpets of the Levites ringing out through the evening calm; and I saw the column of sacrificial smoke rising up from the temple, like a pillar of sand in the desert, through the clear air, until it was flattened by the far vault of heaven into fleecy clouds, which hung about its summit like the frescoes of a Corinthian capital. I stood to admire the beauty of its height and rounded straightness, when I was struck by an unusual glow in the heavens. I saw distinctly formed in the sky a golden crown, which seemed upheld over the inner court of the temple by a chain of sparks, as if suspended from the column of smoke. I was drawn toward the place; and after a quarter hour's hurried walk found myself at the avenue leading up to the temple. I was soon at the entrance, and, passing through the outer court, entered the open one of Sacrifice, over which the crown appeared to rest. The incense from the Levites' censers was ascending in curls about the column of sacrificial smoke like a binding of white ribbon about a black column. The court and side galleries were crowded. I lost sight of the golden crown; and began to fancy it was some play of imagination working on the sunset colors. I sought a remote corner of the hall, and, feeling a peculiar influence over me, bowed profoundly in the depths of my own soul before the majesty of Jehovah. Raising my eyes toward the smoking altar, I was seized with awe and terror in beholding the self-same crown resting over the head of a worshipper, who prayed in the shadow of a pillar. When the ceremony was over, I managed to get a glimpse of the face, which I recognized as that of Jesus of Nazareth. His eyes overflowed with tears. I yearned in my heart toward him by an almost invincible impulse; but I was afraid of being seen speaking to one so humble and so suspected. I waited and watched him on his way home. I followed him in the dusk as he hurried along a street, which I afterward saw him mark with footprints in his own blood. Turning suddenly at the cross formed by the road from the palace of Herod the Ascalonite and that now known as the 'Dolorous Way,' he addressed me:
"'What do you seek, Nicodemus?'
"I was startled by the sound of my own name, not dreaming that he knew it; and I glanced hurriedly up and down the arms of the Crossway to see if any one were within ear-shot.
"'Be not alarmed,' he said, in a voice which fell with velvet softness on mine ear. 'If you wish aught of me, enter here.' And he led the way to an humble house on the street to Calvary. There were two men, one young, with a cheek of downy softness, and the other middle-aged, with beard of bristling gray and fiery eye, awaiting him.
"'Rabbi!' they both exclaimed with glad surprise; but they hesitated when they saw me. For, as I afterward learned, they both recognized me as a member of the Jewish council, and therefore set me down as an enemy of their Master.
"'Peter,' he said, 'John and you will retire to another room. This man wishes to speak to me alone.'