A Boy of Galilee (Illustrated) E-Book

Annie Fellows Johnston

• Herausgeber: Bauer Books
• Kategorie: Für Kinder und Jugendliche
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Beschreibung

Annie Fellows Johnston (1863–1931) was an American author of children's fiction who wrote the popular "Little Colonel" series, which was the basis for the 1935 Shirley Temple film The Little Colonel. She was born and grew up in McCutchanville, Indiana, a small unincorporated town near Evansville, Indiana.

Leseprobe

Annie

UUID: a65cc4fe-f45b-11e7-803d-17532927e555

This ebook was created with StreetLib Writehttp://write.streetlib.com

Table of contents

JOEL: A BOY OF GALILEE. CHAPTER I.

T was market day in Capernaum. Country people were coming in from the little villages among the hills of Galilee, with fresh butter and eggs. Fishermen held out great strings of shining perch and carp, just dipped up from the lake beside the town. Vine-dressers piled their baskets with tempting grapes, and boys lazily brushed the flies from the dishes of wild honey, that they had gone into the country before day-break to find.

A ten-year-old girl pushed her way through the crowded market-place, carrying her baby brother in her arms, and scolding another child, who clung to her skirts.

"Hurry, you little snail!" she said to him. "There's a camel caravan just stopped by the custom-house. Make haste, if you want to see it!"

Their bare feet picked their way quickly over the stones, down to the hot sand of the lake shore. The children crept close to the shaggy camels, curious to see what they carried in their huge packs. But before they were made to kneel, so that the custom-house officials could examine the loads, the boy gave an exclamation of surprise.

"Look, Jerusha! Look!" he cried, tugging at her skirts. "What's that?"

Farther down the line, came several men carrying litters. On each one was a man badly wounded, judging by the many bandages that wrapped him.

Jerusha pushed ahead to hear what had happened. One of the drivers was telling a tax-gatherer.

"In that last rocky gorge after leaving Samaria," said the man, "we were set upon by robbers. They swarmed down the cliffs, and fought as fiercely as eagles. These men, who were going on ahead, had much gold with them. They lost it all, and might have been killed, if we had not come up behind in such numbers. That poor fellow there can hardly live, I think, he was beaten so badly."

"Let's go, Jerusha," whispered the boy, whimpering and pulling at her hand. "I don't like to look at him." But this morning the crowd gave him a strange, lonely feeling,—a hungry longing for companionship. "Oh, Dan!" he cried eagerly. "Are you going out on the lake this morning? Could you take me with you?" "My name isn't Jonah!" screamed the boy, angrily clinching his fists. "It's Joel!" "Well, it is all the same," his tormentor called back, with a coarse laugh. "You're a Jonah, any way." There were tears in the boy's eyes this time, as he dragged himself back again to the step. "I hate everybody in the world!" he said in a hissing sort of whisper. "I hate'm! I hate'm!" The carpenter gathered up some strips of lumber in one hand, and his hammer and saws in the other. "Didn't you always live here?" asked the inquisitive Jesse. "No, I was born in Jerusalem. I was to have been a priest," he said sadly. "Well, why didn't you be one then," persisted the child, with his mouth full of melon. Joel threw himself full length on the grass, and scowled up at the sky. "Where is that boy that hurt you," asked Jesse. A sudden gleam lit up the boy's eyes, as lightning darts through a storm-cloud. "I did not know it was so late," said Joel, rising to his feet. "Time passes so fast here." "Now I'll tickle your lips with this blade of grass," said the child. "See how long you can keep from laughing." Near the door, a table which Phineas had made, stood spread for the mid-day meal. "Nothing," answered Joel, "after I have recited my lessons to Rabbi Amos." "Does your aunt never give you any tasks to do at home?" "Oh, Rabbi Phineas!" cried Joel. "Do you mean that I may come here every day? It is too good to be true!" Phineas laid a soft pine board on the bench, and began to mark a line across it with a piece of red chalk. "Well, you may see how straight a cut you can make through this plank." "Be careful, my lad," he said. "You will soon wear out at that rate." Phineas smiled, and held out his hand. "You have one now, my lad, never forget that." "Here," she lisped, holding out the snowy winged bird. "Boy, take it! Boy, keep it!" Joel looked up inquiringly at Phineas. "Take it," he said, in a low tone. "Let it be the omen of a happier life commencing for you." "Yes," she answered, nodding her head. "Boy cried." It was a pitiful little figure that limped away homeward in the fading light, with the white pigeon in his arms.