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Updated: June 7, 2025
As it rose above the hill, we heard the stroke of the bell. "Some one's d-dead. Hark! Only one stroke. It's a child. One for a c-child, two for a woman, and three strokes for a man." "I know who it is. Father was called up to Sam Hadley's last night. Little Benoni Mead was very poorly, and they didn't think he'd last through the night." Poor little Benoni!
Jezabel wuzn't a likely woman at all; I wouldn't been willin' to neighbor with her. Rachel's tomb is a little furder on. It is a long, rough-lookin' structure with a round ruff on the highest end on't. Christian, Jew and Moslem all agree that this is Rachel's tomb. It wuz right here that little Benoni wuz born and his ma named him while her soul wuz departing, for she died.
His father, Cornelius Mead, had died of camp fever in the war; his mother and he had come on the town for support, and had been boarded with her brother, Sam Hadley, not far from Bull Meadow Hill. Benoni had always been ailing, and of late had failed rapidly. "Well, boys," said Davy, "let's get back to work. It won't do Benoni any good to be mooning round."
"What is that?" he asked, sustaining the sound. "The common chord of A minor," answered Nino immediately. "You have a good ear," said Benoni, still playing the same notes, so that the constant monotony of them buzzed like a vexatious insect in Nino's hearing. Still the old man sawed the bow over the same strings without change.
You are badly off, whether you believe in heaven or not. For if you do, you are not likely to get there; and if you do not believe in it, you are a heretic, and will be burned for ever and ever." "Not so badly answered, for an artist; and in a few words, too," said Benoni, approvingly.
Benoni looked at it a moment, and then with one finger he suddenly whisked the poor little thing into space. It hurt me to see it, and I knew he must be cruel, for he laughed aloud. Somehow it would have seemed less cruel to have brushed away the whole trail of insects, rather than to pitch upon this one small tired workman, overladen and forgotten by the rest. "Why did you do that?"
"Away with her," said Simon the son of Gioras, and the others nodded their heads in assent. Then they gathered together discussing the manner of her end, while Benoni stormed at them in vain. Not quite in vain, however, for they yielded something to his pleading. "So be it," said their spokesman, Simon the Zealot.
The Essenes consenting, he accepted the charge, and there she is still." "Then is this lady Miriam an Essene?" asked Benoni in a thick, slow voice. "No; she is of the sect of the Christians, in which faith she has been brought up as her mother desired." The old man rose from his couch and walked up and down the portico.
Benoni glanced up quickly and the President added: "Those of which we have received a copy, that you swore to and signed in the presence of Marcus the Roman, are enough for us." Now it was Miriam's turn to look, first up and then down. As for her grandfather, he turned white with anger, and broke into a bitter laugh. "Now I understand "
The contrast in the appearance of this pair was very striking. One, who could not have been much more than twenty years of age, was a Jewess, too thin-faced for beauty, but with dark and lovely eyes, and bearing in every limb and feature the stamp of noble blood. She was Rachel, the widow of Demas, a Graeco-Syrian, and only child of the high-born Jew Benoni, one of the richest merchants in Tyre.
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