The "Prince of the House of David," written by Rev. Mr. Ingraham, needs no recommendation. Its fame has been, long since, established, and its fascination has already held sway over multitudes of delighted readers. Recognizing fully its merits, the publishers of this edition decided to put it in the way of a still greater circulation; and in order to facilitate this, it has been thoroughly revised and in parts re-written, all unnecessary repetition appearing in the original edition of the book being omitted.
Adina, the suppositious writer of the following letters, is the daughter of a Jew who resides in Alexandria, Egypt. She has come to Jerusalem during the most stirring period of earth's history, and, from thence, for the period of three years, she keeps her father apprized of the marvelous events occurring about her during that time.
THE PUBLISHERS.
LETTERS FROM ADINA.
LETTER I.
My Dear Father:
My first duty, as it is my highest pleasure, is to comply with your command to write you as soon as I should arrive at Jerusalem, and this letter, while it conveys intelligence of my arrival, will confirm to you my filial obedience.
My journey hither occupied many days. When we traveled in sight of the sea, which we did for three days, I enjoyed the majesty of the prospect, it seemed so like the sky stretched out upon the earth. I also had the good fortune to see several ships, which the Rabbi informed me were Roman galleys, bound some to Sidon, and others into the Nile; and after one of these latter, as it was going to you, I sent a prayer and a wish. Just as we were leaving the sea-shore to turn off into the desert, I saw a wrecked vessel. It looked so helpless and bulky, with its huge black body all out of the water, that it seemed to me like a great sea-monster, stranded and dying; and I felt like pitying it. How terrible a tempest must be upon the sea! I was in hopes to have seen a Leviathan, but was not gratified in the wish. The good Rabbi, who seemed to know all about these things, told me that they seldom appear now in the Middle Sea, but are seen beyond the pillar of Hercules at the world's end.
At Gaza we stopped two days, and from thence we proceeded over-land to our destination.
The morning of the last day of our journey but one, having lost our way and wandered many hours eastwardly, we caught sight of the Sea of Sodom and Gomorrah, at a great distance to the east. How my pulse quickened at beholding that fearful spot! I seemed to see in imagination the heavens on fire above it, and the flames and smoke ascending as from a great furnace, as on that fearful day when they were destroyed, with all that beautiful surrounding plain, which we are told was one vast garden of beauty. How calm and still lay now that sluggish sea beneath a cloudless sky! We held it in sight many hours, and once caught a glimpse of the Jordan north of it, looking like a silver thread; yet near as it appeared to be, I was told it was a good day's journey for a camel to reach its shores.
After losing sight of this melancholy lake, our way lay along a narrow valley for some time, and the next day, on reaching an eminence, Jerusalem appeared, as if risen out of the earth.
I cannot, my dear father, describe to you my emotions on beholding the Holy City! They have been experienced by millions of our people—they were similar to your own as you related them to me. All the past, with its mighty men who walked with Jehovah, rushed to my memory, and compelled me to bow my head, and worship and adore at the sight of the Temple, where God once (alas, why does he no longer visit earth and his holy house?) dwelt in the flaming Shechinah, and made known the oracles of his will.
We entered the city just before the sixth hour of the evening, and were soon at the house of our relative, Amos, the Levite. I was received as if I had a daughter's claim to their embraces; and with the luxuries with which they surrounded me in my gorgeously furnished apartments. I am sure my kinsfolk here mean to tempt me to forget the joys of the dear home I have left.
The Rabbi Amos and his family all desire to be commended to you. He seems to be a man of piety and benevolence, and greatly loves his children. I have been once to the Temple. Its outer court seemed like a vast caravanserai or market-place, being thronged with the men who sell animals for sacrifice, which crowded all parts. Thousands of doves in large cages were sold on one side, and on another were stalls for lambs, sheep, calves and oxen, the noise and bleating of which, with the confusion of tongues, made the place appear like anything else than the Temple of Jehovah. It appears like desecration to use the Temple thus, dear father, and seems to show a want of that holy love of God's house that once characterized our ancestors. On reaching the women's court I was sensible of being in the Temple, by the magnificence which surrounded me. With what awe I bowed my head in the direction of the Holy of Holies! I never felt before so near to God! Clouds of incense floated above the heads of the multitude, and rivers of blood flowed down the marble steps of the altar of burnt offering. Alas! how many innocent victims bleed every morning and evening for the sins of Israel! What a sea of blood has been poured out in ages that have passed! What a strange, fearful mystery, that the blood of an innocent lamb should atone for sins I have done! There must be some deeper meaning in these sacrifices, dear father, yet unrevealed to us.
As I was returning from the Temple I met many persons, who seemed to be crowding out of the gate on some unusual errand. I have since learned that they were going to see a very extraordinary man—a true prophet of God, it is believed by many, who dwells in the wilderness eastward near Jordan, and who preaches with power unknown in the land since the days of Elijah and Elisha. I hope he is a true prophet of heaven, and that God is once more about to remember Israel, but the days of the Prophets have long passed away, and I fear this man is only an enthusiast.
Farewell, dear father, and let us ever pray for the glory of Israel.
Your affectionate,
Adina.
LETTER II.
My Dear Father:
The street in which we dwell is elevated, and from the roof of the house, where I love to walk in the evening, watching the stars that hang over Egypt, there is commanded a wide prospect of the Holy City.
Yesterday morning I was early on the house-top, to behold the first cloud of the day-dawn sacrifice rise from the bosom of the Temple. When I had turned my gaze towards the sacred summit, I was awed by the profound silence which reigned over the vast pile that crowned Mount Moriah. The sun was not yet risen; but the east blushed with a roseate purple, and the morning star was melting into its depth. Night and silence still held united empire over the city and the altar of God. I was awe-silent. I stood with my hands crossed upon my bosom and my head reverently bowed, for in the absence of man and his voice I believed angels were all around in heavenly hosts, the guardian armies of this wondrous city of David. Lances of light now shot upward and across the purple sea in the East, and fleeces of clouds, that reposed upon it like barks, catching the red rays of the yet unrisen sun, blazed like burning ships. Each moment the darkness fled, and the splendor of the dawn increased; and when I expected to see the sun appear over the battlemented heights of Mount Moriah, I was thrilled by the startling peal of the trumpets of the priests; a thousand silver trumpets blown at once from the walls of the Temple, and shaking the
