A Life of St. John for the Young | Page 6

younger than James, and several years younger than Peter.
The mother of James and John was named Salome. We know more of
her than of her husband. She was a warm friend of Jesus, ministering to
Him when He was living, and was one of the few who cared for His
dead body. Her sons seemed to be greatly attached to her. All were of
kindred spirit, having like thoughts, feelings and plans.
James and John were brothers indeed, companions until the death of
James separated them. The feelings of boyhood must have been greatly
strengthened in later scenes, and by influences which we shall have
occasion to notice. As we know of them as daily companions in

manhood, we think of the intimacy and affection of boyhood. It will
help us to gain an idea of their companionship, and the influences of
their surroundings, if we notice some things with which they were
familiar in the region of their home.
Standing on one of the hills behind Bethsaida they beheld a
magnificent panorama. In the northeast Hermon rose like a mighty
giant, called by the people of the land the "Kingly Mountain." They
knew it by the name Moses had given it--"the goodly mountain." They
were to know it by the name which Peter would give in after years,
"The Holy Mount," so called for a blessed reason of which all of them
were to learn. Down from its snowy glittering sides a thousand
streamlets blended in larger streams combining in the Jordan, which
flowed through marshes and Lake Merom until it entered Gennesaret
near their home. Eastward, across the lake, the rugged cliffs of Gadara
cut off their view. Perhaps at this very hour the winds from Hermon
rushed through the gorges, first ruffling the placid waters of the lake,
and then tossing them as if in rage. They little thought of a coming time
when they themselves would be tossed upon them until they heard a
voice saying, "Peace be still." And now
"The warring winds have died away, The clouds, beneath the glancing
ray, Melt off, and leave the land and sea Sleeping in bright tranquillity.
Below, the lake's still face Sleeps sweetly in th' embrace Of mountains
terraced high with mossy stone."
[Illustration: CALM ON GALILEE From Photograph Page 26]
In another hour they watch the more quiet movements of pleasure
boats,--gay barges and royal galleys--and trading vessels, and fishing
boats,--all crowding together seemingly covering the lake.
As it narrows in the southern distance, the Jordan commences the
second stage of its journey of one hundred and twenty miles through
rugged gorges. As it leaves the quiet lake, we can almost hear them
saying to it
"Like an arrow from the quiver, To the sad and lone Dead Sea, Thou art

rushing, rapid river, Swift, and strong, and silently, Through the dark
green foliage stealing, Like a silver ray of light."
Descending from the hill we may follow James and John in their
rambles in the region near their home. On the northern extremity of the
lake, among the colossal reeds, and meadow grass and rushes, they
watch the little tortoises creeping among them; and the pelicans which
make them their chosen home; and the blue and white winged jays that
have strayed from the jungles through which the Jordan has pushed its
way; and the favorite turtle-doves; and the blue birds so light that one
can rest on a blade of grass without bending it; and the confiding larks
and storks which, not fleeing, seem to welcome the visitors to their
haunts. Here grow oleanders of such magnificence as is seen nowhere
else in the country, twenty feet high, sometimes in clumps a hundred
feet in circumference; and "masses of rosy red flowers, blushing
pyramids of exquisite loveliness."
Our ramblers follow the western shore to the shallow hot stream, where
boy-like,--or manlike as I did--they burn their hands in trying to secure
pebbles from its bottom. They rest under the shade of an olive or a
palm. They gather walnuts which are in great abundance; and grapes
and figs, which can be done ten months in the year; and oranges and
almonds and pomegranates.
They wander through meadows rich in foliage, and gay with the
brightness and richness of flowers which retain their bloom in Galilee
when they would droop in Judæa or Samaria.
We hear the poet Keble asking them,
"What went ye out to see O'er the rude, sandy lea, Where stately Jordan
flows by many a palm, Or where Gennesaret's wave Delights the
flowers to lave, That o'er her western slope breathe airs of balm?
"All through the summer night, These blossoms red and white Spread
their soft breasts unheeding to the breeze, Like hermits watching still,
Around the sacred hill, Where erst