A CHILD'S EASTER

Evening Post, Issue 86, 11 April 1936, Page 10

A CHILD'S EASTER

(Written for Easter-in-the-Ring, by "Lassie," Kelburn.) '//r^ IMEON, Simeon, my son! Where hast thou.been, this long while? *b?*s The meal time is long past, and soon it will be : time for bed. Thy father and I have been so anxious for thy safety. Come, then, jvash thy hands, thy supper is ready."

Against the doorway, a little wearily, stood Simeon, his sandals dusty, an unusual seriousness in his dark eyes. 'I am sorry, Mother, I did not mean to be late. I have been along the Bethany .road. I will tell you, as I take my supper," and coming inside, he sat down.-. > "Today as we, played in the marKet-place; I 'saw a stranger watching us. So pleasant he looked, and so gentle and kind his eyes, I should not have been surprised if he had joined in our game of Weddings and Funerals' himself! He stroked little Miriam's „ hair, and then went on towards, the ..Temple. . . . ' ■;'■■ "It was just at sundown that I saw him again, and. this time he looked so tired, as he came down the road. It seemed a ; chance to bid him rest awhile, that I might bring him a cup of cold water. I was not afraid pi speaking to him, one little bit, so I hurried after- him: . "Then, at the turn of the road, he paused,' and:' looked back at the city. Mother, his face was so sad! I heard :him speak his. thoughts aloud, though I did not understand aU he meant, for he said,.'O, Jerusalem, how often would I have gathered thee as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wing, but ya would not!'- ■ ,' ' . ■ v

'T could not stir," the lad went! on. "I. just watched. There was such longing in his voice, It seemed as though his heartache was too much for him. At last, he turned away, and went slowly on towards Bethany. And I came home," Simeon finished' Simply. ;r

His mother said nothing, but drfew the lad gently and comfortingly -to her, for she noted the toll that 'sympathy .had taken,'of him. During the night, restlessness claimed Simeon, a restlessness that rapidly mounted to fever. Through the anxious hours that followed, his • parents did all they could for him, but to little avail, .beyond keeping the fever somewhat in check. Through the meaningless words and phrases of unconsciousness ran an oft-repeated cry—"As.a hen gathereth her chickens under her wing"—over and over, ending sometimes pitifully, as the Stranger had done—"But ye would not."

In vain his mother bathed his hot head and hands. In vain his little Sisterd Miriam, catching the word "chickens," would bring in one of their wee chicks in her chubby hands, and say, "See, Simeon, what I have brought thee." The only hope of calming "the little lad and so helping him to health again seemed to lie in finding the Stranger who had captured his boyish heart. So his father made inquiries.

But only to hear disquieting rumours that .became more ;and more ominous, rumours that grew into tragic certainties, as each day passed. They filled the little home with a double sense of despair.:; For if there -had been arrest, torment, and death, how could they ever tell or reassure little Simeon? •■ . . ■ ' '->>~ : . . ■. ■-^ • ■

Yet they hoped on—and at last the fever spent its violence, and Simeon was: clear-eyed and conscious once more. "In the very early morning his father carried him up on to the flat ropf,:.wKere he could lie on the couch and hear once more the songs of the birds.! •. His mother brought him milk and fruit, and Miriam her favourite cushion for his shoulders.

' • From thereof could be seen the dusty road that led past their neighbour Joseph's garden, with its many bright flowers among the gnarled, old olive trees. Presently, the sound of running footsteps made Simeon look, and he saw it was a woman, with scarcely-dried tears on her cheeks, and hair streaming in the wind as she sped towards the city. A moment later, the tall figure of the Stranger met Simeon's delighted eyes-

Gone was the look of weariness and frustration, ana in its place a gladness that was almost a radiance. His firm, buoyant tread soon brought him towards the house, and past the little lad gazing so eagerly down into his face. A-look, long and steady and loving, passed between them, and then the Stranger went on, out of- sight. : '; . ' '

But there, was unbounded life and vigour ana joy in Simeon's voTce as he called: "Mother, Father, Miriam, come! : I, have seen him! We are friends! I shall see him again!" All that day the joyous thought was with him—a joy shared by those who loved him, mingled with hope and wonder. ' ■ .. - ■ ' , '

. And that evening, just before he slept, Simeon put his arms round his mother's neck and whispered,. "I am so glad for the Stranger, Mother. He looks, now, as though someone had let him "gather them into his heart, as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wing." ' ■' :