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 AND . , ju.-;RPIi AXi) MARY .viii. mmi Ai THE 
 
 INN^ AND SOUGHT ADMITTANCE." Page I9. 
 
THE STRANGERS 
 
 AT THE DOOR 
 
 A 
 
 CHRISTMAS 
 STORY 
 
 by 
 G. BAYARD YOUNG 
 
 THE CASTLE PRESS 
 
 PHILADELPHIA 
 
 1.9.1.9 
 
.i*-^^* 
 
 
 COPYRIGHT, 191 9, BY 
 G. BAYARD YOUNG 
 
 DEC 22 1919 
 
 O0!,A561088 
 
V 
 
 ^ THE STRANGERS AT 
 2 THE DOOR 
 
 r.s i 
 
 HE decree had gone forth! 
 Rome had spoken. Her 
 mandate must be obeyed. 
 And so, in fear and 
 trembling, each Jewish 
 family sought the place of its nativity, that 
 there a proper registration might be made of 
 all possessions, from the youngest lamb in 
 the field to the finest mansion in the city, 
 and upon the basis of this property the new 
 tax was to be levied. 
 
 The whole land was thrown into con- 
 fusion. From the regions of ancient 
 Tyre and Sidon, from among the foothills 
 of the cedar-crowned Lebanon Mountains, 
 forth from the densely populated cities and 
 villages in the valley of Jezreel and en- 
 3 ^' ^ 
 
THE STRANGERS 
 
 circling the little Sea of Galilee, and far 
 southward to the shores of the Great Sea, 
 moved a steady stream of humanity, im- 
 pelled by a common impulse. 
 
 For a moment these diverging streams 
 met and mingled upon the great Roman 
 highways, and then moved on to their ap- 
 p<Mnted goal. 
 
 Among those who came under the power 
 of the ELmperor's unalterable decree were 
 two peasants whose home was hidden 
 among the hills of Galilee in the obscure 
 village of Nazareth. They, too, must 
 obey, and so, in company with multitudes 
 of others, they had turned their faces south- 
 ward. It was a wearisome journey, not 
 only on account of the many miles to be 
 traveled, but especially because of the gen- 
 eral irritation and vexation occasioned by 
 the new law. Galling as was the Roman 
 yoke at any time, it seemed thrice burden- 
 4 
 
AT THE DOOR 
 
 THE DECREE HAD GONE FORTH. 
 
THE STRANGERS 
 
 some in this hour, when every family must 
 forego present and future plans for the time 
 being, and seek the place of its nativity. 
 
 But, despite it all, in the eyes of these 
 two peasants who moved ever southward, 
 there shone a light which no darkness could 
 quench. Singularly calm and confident 
 were they. Simple as were their garments, 
 hardened by toil as were their hands, and 
 bronzed as were their faces, still there was 
 about them such a fineness of manner, 
 gentleness of spirit, and nobility of soul, as 
 to make all who knew them show them 
 marked deference. They commanded re- 
 spect without seeking it. In their veins 
 flowed the blood of a long line of Hebrew 
 kings. 
 
 They were lineal descendants of King 
 
 David, who first sprang into prominence in 
 
 the nation's history when he slew the giant 
 
 Goliath. Then it was that the women of 
 
 6 
 
AT THE DOOR 
 
 Israel sang, "Saul hath slciin his thousands 
 and David his ten thousands." But this 
 first great public victory was only the fore- 
 runner of the many to follow, and David's 
 spirit and undaunted heroism were stamped 
 indelibly, not alone upon Joseph, but even 
 more pronouncedly upon Mary, his es- 
 poused wife. Firm as were the lines about 
 his mouth, even more firm were those about 
 hers. Difficulties would not dismay him, 
 while to her they were but a challenge. 
 
 For some time they had been traveling 
 towards Jerusalem in silence, each wrapped 
 in profound thought, when suddenly Mary 
 said, "What thinkest thou, Joseph? That 
 we shall not find room in the inn? Did I 
 not see a cloud flit across the sky?" Jos- 
 eph did not wish to add, even in the slight- 
 est degree, to the burden which rested alike 
 upon all, and therefore he sought to evade 
 the question. 
 
 7 
 
THE STRANGERS 
 
 **'Tis true the crowd is very great, the 
 largest I have ever seen," he said. And 
 then suddenly breaking off the conversation 
 and looking far off across the fields, and 
 far beyond the distant Judean hills, ex- 
 claimed, "'Twas along that road you 
 passed when you visited your cousin Eliza- 
 beth, was it not?'* 
 
 That visit ! It could never be forgotten. 
 As Joseph spoke, a flood of tender, thrill- 
 ing memories came to her that made her 
 soul leap for joy. So engrossed was she 
 in recalling the succession of events per- 
 taining to her memorable visit to her cousin 
 Elizabeth and the priest Zacharias, that it 
 seemed as though she had forgotten her 
 original question to Joseph. But had she? 
 With fine chivalry, Joseph sought to be- 
 guile her by calling her attention to all that 
 was beautiful in sky and tree and shrub and 
 plant and bird. Late as it was in the year, 
 8 
 
AT THE DOOR 
 
 "hasten ! ONLY ONE DAY YET REMAINS FOR REGIS- 
 TRATION." 
 
THE STRANGERS 
 
 there were still many plants in bloom that 
 added their beauty and fragrance to the 
 scene, and many a highly-colored bird sang 
 his sweetest song as he flew directly over 
 their heads, as though he had come with a 
 special message of good cheer for them in 
 their long journey. Both were nature-lov- 
 ers, and were ever on the alert for some- 
 thing new in her wondrous domain. 
 
 But their conversation came to a quick 
 ending. The sharp ring of a horse's hoofs 
 was heard approaching. A Roman cen- 
 turion came riding by, lordly, imperious, 
 scornful. Scarcely pausing in his mad 
 flight he shouted to the multitude that still 
 thronged the great highway, "Hasten! 
 Only one day yet remains for the registra- 
 tion. If your names are not recorded you 
 forfeit all!" A pang shot through the 
 hearts of many, and especially of Joseph 
 and Mary. Night was already falling, 
 10 
 
AT THE DOOR 
 
 and Jerusalem was still twenty-five miles 
 distant, and little Bethlehem, their goal, 
 six miles still farther. With anxious eyes 
 they looked at one another. With a reso- 
 lute look upon her drawn face, Mary, the 
 Hebrew maiden, said to Joseph, **We 
 must ride on into the night." "Impossible," 
 Joseph protested. **Already you are too 
 worn to travel farther." "But I must," 
 she stoutly declared. "Otherwise we shall 
 lose our little home in Nazareth, and that 
 we can ill afford." Joseph knew it all too 
 well. Rome knew no pity, and particu- 
 larly with her subject races. Her word 
 was like the laws of the Medes and Per- 
 sians, which altered not. Trying an ordeal 
 as it was, there was nought else to be done. 
 Time was so precious now that even the 
 night must be as the day to them. 
 
 Towards midnight they and some of 
 their neighbors from Nazareth reached a 
 11 
 
THE STRANGERS 
 
 little sheltered valley and sought a few 
 hours' rest. But with the twittering of the 
 birds at dawn they were again on the 
 march. Their progress was so slow as to 
 seem almost a retracing of their steps, and 
 yet they dared not go faster. 
 
 At last, late in the afternoon, when the 
 western sky was all aglow with light, they 
 came in sight of Jerusalem. For the time 
 they forgot their extreme fatigue, forgot 
 their sleepless night, forgot that they had 
 scarcely tasted food for four and twenty 
 hours. They stood transfixed! Before 
 them, built upon seven hills, stood Jerusa- 
 lem. Upon Mount Zion rose the temple, 
 massive, golden-domed, snowy white with 
 her glistening marbles, the wonder not 
 alone of every faithful orthodox Jew, but 
 of all the world. Today the city and 
 temple, bathed in the glory of the setting 
 sun, shone resplendent. Nothing could 
 12 
 
AT THE DOOR 
 
 add to their beauty. 
 
 Familiar as were both Joseph and Mary 
 with the centuries of their nation's history, 
 they saw pass in review before them the 
 long line of kings who had lived and. 
 reigned in this Capital City. Their good 
 deeds shone out upon the canvas of their 
 memory like brilliant stars upon a dark 
 night, while their deeds of depravity were 
 like a dreadful nightmare which was well 
 nigh unforgetable. Prophets, too, rose up 
 before them, strong, fearless, the beacon 
 lights of their generation. As hidden treas- 
 ures to them were their writings, so care- 
 fully preserved in the ancient Jewish manu- 
 scripts, and so faithfully memorized from 
 the tender years of childhood. This was 
 holy ground! But tarry they dared not. 
 The sands in the hour-glass were few, and 
 SIX miles yet remained before them. 
 Around the green slopes of the Mount of 
 13 
 
THE STRANGERS 
 
 Olives they passed. Over this self-same 
 road King David, their grand-sire, had 
 marched with his conquering host. The 
 feet of Naomi and the royal Ruth had also 
 made sacred this pathway that led to Beth- 
 lehem. 
 
 As the sun was about to be lost in the 
 sea, Joseph and Mary stood at the end of 
 their journey. A few belated travelers, 
 like themselves, were still registering in 
 Bethlehem. In a few moments they, too, 
 had given a list of their belongings, and 
 were free to seek shelter for the night. A 
 deep sigh of relief escaped from both. 
 
 Once outside the booth of registration, 
 they stood in the fast-gathering darkness 
 with heads bowed in silent prayer. Their 
 sense of gratitude was too deep to find ex- 
 pression in words. 
 
 During the last two hours the weather 
 had suddenly changed. The warm south 
 14 
 
AT THE DOOR 
 
 wind which marked the beginning of the 
 day and made it seem like a day in early 
 spring, had been replaced by a sharp, cold 
 blast which blew in angry gusts from the 
 Great Sea, making one feel he could almost 
 hear the wild billows break in their froth- 
 ing, foaming fury upon the jagged rocks 
 which line the coast of Joppa. Snowflakes 
 were beginning to fill the night air. 
 
 There was but one caravansary in the 
 little town of Bethlehem. For generations 
 it had stood there. It was one of the fa- 
 miliar landmarks to every traveler, whether 
 he came from Upper Egypt or ancient Da- 
 mascus. It was the common camping 
 ground for all. TTiither the devout Joseph 
 and Mary turned their steps. How wel- 
 come would its shelter prove on such a night 
 as this! Yea, how tenfold welcome! 
 
 But how little they knew the man who 
 stood supreme in this shelter of the nations 
 15 
 
THE STRANGERS 
 
 — Zeresh, the grizzled, gruff, and greedy 
 innkeeper. What a strange character — 
 half Egyptian, half Jewish; a child of the 
 desert, bom on an oasis far out in the Great 
 Desert, with the heat of the burning sands 
 in his veins and inordinate covetousness in 
 his heart. His father had been at one time 
 a Jewish priest, and his mother an Egyp- 
 tian fortune-teller. Repentant, his father 
 had taught him the Hebrew Scriptures and 
 sought to rear him in the true faith, but it 
 was as difficult as facing a sandstorm. 
 However, one thing was certain, the inn 
 which Zeresh kept was clean. It was the 
 pride of his life. Here men found a good 
 resting place. True, he drove a sharp bar- 
 gain with his guests, but he was obliging. 
 By day or night he would do their bidding, 
 but alway^s for mone^. 
 
 On this memorable day when Joseph 
 and Mary had been approaching Bethle- 
 16 
 
AT THE DOOR 
 
 hem, others, able to travel faster than they, 
 had already arrived at the inn while they 
 were still many miles distant. Early in the 
 day the stream of guests had begun to ar- 
 rive. In his eagerness for gain, unused 
 places were emptied of tools and imple- 
 ments of all kinds — the accumulation of 
 years. Swift change followed swift change. 
 All possible space must be utilized. And 
 still the guests came. Impatient at delay, 
 he raged at his faithful, hunchback wife, 
 Miriam. She could do nothing quick 
 enough. Twice during the day he had 
 raised his clenched fist to strike her down, 
 but each time she eluded him and escaped 
 unharmed. Once an ugly blow narrowly 
 missed the head of their little three-year- 
 old girl, who in terror was clinging to her 
 mother's dress. **Go, you wretch," he 
 said, as he gave her a push which sent her 
 reeling across the floor; "go and make room 
 17 
 
THE STRANGERS 
 
 for more.** Worn out in body, trembling 
 with fear, and sick in soul, the little Jewess 
 hurried away to prepare more room. As 
 she was fleeing from him, Miriam heard 
 old Zeresh mumble to himself, *'Each must 
 pay my price this day! Each must pay my 
 price! Unthought-of places were cleared, 
 and by limiting the space to each, the old 
 inn had never given shelter to so many 
 travelers as in this night. The eyes of the 
 innkeeper glittered and glistened with the 
 peculiar light of the wild beast in the forest 
 that has caught its prey. "Caesar has 
 served me well! Caesar has served me 
 well! The nation's misfortune is my 
 gain," chuckled old Zeresh as he clinked 
 the coins in the large leathern bag which 
 was suspended from the girdle beneath his 
 tunic. 
 
 And yet there was room. Two rich 
 Persian merchants, expected for the past 
 18 
 
AT THE DOOR 
 
 three days, men who for the last twenty 
 years had made this their resting place, had 
 not arrived. Would they still come? 
 
 And then Joseph and Mary appeared 
 before the inn and sought admittance. But 
 as they stood before the darkened entrance 
 on this cold and cheerless night, colder 
 than the chilling wind which blew about 
 them was their reception. Zeresh, the 
 grizzled, gruff and greedy innkeeper, met 
 them under the flickering rays of two 
 torches that were hung in the wall. Ori- 
 ental politeness at first was his, as he stood 
 face to face with these two belated travel- 
 ers. A smile played about his large mouth, 
 and a warm welcome was apparently to be 
 theirs; but as Zeresh made a swift but 
 careful scrutiny of them in the dim light 
 and noted their simple garment, the smile 
 vanished and his face grew hard and piti- 
 less. 
 
 19 
 
THE STRANGERS 
 
 Joseph stood and pleaded for admit- 
 tance as only one will plead for a life- 
 companion who is dearer than life itself. 
 In desperation Joseph pledged Zeresh the 
 last shekel in his purse if he could only be 
 granted even the poorest place in the inn. 
 But this offer the innkeeper resolutely re- 
 fused. 
 
 Before the eyes of the covetous Zeresh 
 shone the gold of the opulent Persian 
 merchants, from whom he not only ex- 
 pected to receive a rich reward on this 
 night, but also during the long years yet to 
 come, and this hope outweighed all the ar- 
 guments Joseph could present. 
 
 It seemed as though the heart of Zeresh 
 was carved out of the hardest agate. 
 
 The two strangers from Nazareth could 
 in no way find a welcome at the hands of 
 Zeresh. They stood outside. There was 
 no room for them in the inn. 
 20 
 
AT THE DOOR 
 
 "This is no time to open my door to 
 poor folks. A fool I'd be if I did not 
 gather as many shekels as possible on such 
 a night as this," mumbled the Bethlehem 
 innkeeper as he watched Joseph and Mary 
 disappear in the darkness. 
 
 The two expected guests did not arrive,. 
 The best place stood vacant. 
 
 As Joseph and Mary turned away from 
 the inn, the darkness was doubly dark, and 
 the cheerless wind a hundredfold more 
 cheerless. 
 
 As the birds fly home to their nests when 
 the storm is gathering, so was it with the 
 citizens and strangers in Bethlehem. 
 
 Joseph now realized that the crisis-hour 
 in his life had come. Assuredly this night 
 would be marked by a great tragedy un- 
 less help came, and came speedily. Both 
 were already benumbed by the increasing 
 cold and Joseph knew full well that this 
 21 
 
THE STRANGERS 
 
 benumbment would soon be followed by ! 
 
 that drowsiness which leads the weary 1 
 
 traveler to lie down anywhere and go to ! 
 
 sleep, but in such a case the sleep is that [ 
 
 long sleep from which no one awakes in ; 
 
 this life. i 
 
 If Joseph could not gain admittance to j 
 
 the inn, which was supposed to receive all I 
 
 travelers, could he expect that any other I 
 door would be opened to him in so exceed- 
 ingly small a town as Bethlehem? 
 
 He knew not. The prospects seemed to i 
 
 him well nigh hopeless in so tiny a village . 
 with its few scattering houses. 
 
 With a woman's quick instinct Mary 
 
 read the thoughts of her protector. Des- I 
 perate as was their situation, a deep, sure 
 
 calm reigned in her soul. Far above the . 
 
 storm which sends the clouds scudding < 
 
 across the sky is a calm which no storm, j 
 
 however violent, can reach ; and many f ath- ' 
 
 22 ' 
 
AT THE DOOR 
 
 oms beneath the surface of the sea is a still- 
 ness so great that not a pebble nor a shell 
 is disturbed. Thus was it in the deepest 
 depths of Mary's soul. She was anchored 
 in Jehovah, and knew her anchor would 
 hold. The history of the past was in- 
 grained into her very being, and she knew 
 that as Jehovah had delivered in the past 
 so He would deliver now. With this un- 
 shaken conviction, she turned to Joseph, as 
 the wind raged about them, and said, 
 "Fear not Joseph, Jehovah is good and 
 never forsakes His own. Did He not open 
 a path through the Red Sea for our peo- 
 ple? Did He not deliver David, our 
 grand-sire, from the lion's mouth? And 
 even Hagar, the bondwoman, from per- 
 ishing in the wilderness? Has He not 
 pledged His word, saying, *No good thing 
 will He withhold from them that walk up- 
 rightly'? The stars may fall, the sun and 
 23 
 
THE STRANGERS 
 
 moon fail to give their light, but Jehovah*s 
 word shall never fail." 
 
 Scarcely had the words died upon her 
 lips when a small, thinly-clad urchin came 
 bounding around the corner of one of the 
 houses. Borne on by the force of the wind 
 and the impetus of his running, ere he was 
 aware he dashed pell-mell into Joseph. 
 Sorely bruised, greatly frightened, thinking 
 it was old Zeresh with whom he had col- 
 lided, and expecting many a sharp blow 
 and still sharper words for his rudeness, the 
 little fellow scrambled to his feet and was 
 about to redouble his speed when in kindest 
 tones a voice called after his retreating fig- 
 ure, "We are so sorry for thee, my child. 
 Art thou badly bruised?" 
 
 It was enough. That little boy's heart 
 
 flew open in a moment. Curiosity, the 
 
 kindly feeling awakened by Joseph's 
 
 words, the love of adventure — a hundred 
 
 24 
 
AT THE DOOR 
 
 emotions played riot in this little lad's soul 
 and made flight impossible till he had 
 asked, "And who art thou? And where 
 art thou going? Why art thou not in the 
 inn yonder?" 
 
 Patiently Joseph answered the volley of 
 questions. Stamping his sandal with a 
 wrathful ring upon the hard stones which 
 filled the narrow street, the bruised and 
 bleeding boy said, "How cruel old Zeresh 
 is! How pitiless! And such a night as 
 this!" And then, with fine, child-like con- 
 fidence, he followed the warm impulse of 
 his heart, and placing his little hand within 
 Joseph's, he said, "Come with me. My 
 father is a big man, the best man in the 
 world, and he'll make room for thee." 
 
 To the outskirts of Bethlehem Joseph 
 
 and Mary were led by their unexpected 
 
 little guide. Up to the side of a rocky 
 
 slope he brought them. In the side of a 
 
 25 
 
THE STRANGERS 
 
 limestone hill there opened a natural gate- 
 way. Within could be seen the flickering 
 rays of a rushlight. A man, tall, square- 
 shouldered, muscular, was within the 
 grotto. He stood in the midst of all his 
 earthly goods — a small flock of sheep and 
 lambs, a cow and her young offspring, his 
 faithful donkey, and a shepherd dog. The 
 unusual cold had led him to bring his ani- 
 mals under cover for the night. Hidden 
 from view, preparing the warm evening 
 meal, was his beloved wife, and grouped 
 about her three small boys. 
 
 Busy scattering the straw over the stable 
 floor and filling the manger with provender, 
 the keeper of the grotto was unaware of 
 the approach of strangers, until his dog 
 leaped forth into the darkness and filled 
 the silent night with his barking. The 
 owner quickly followed, and at the door- 
 way of the grotto met the two strangers 
 26 
 
AT THE DOOR 
 
 from far-off Nazareth in Galilee. Micaiah. 
 the keeper of the grotto, would have been 
 a remarkable man in any age, but espe- 
 cially so in this. In these dark days, when 
 it was the common sight to see slaves and 
 criminals expiring in agony upon Roman 
 crosses set up along the great Roman high- 
 ways; when the border line between Judea 
 and Samaria was never crossed by the or- 
 thodox Jew; when the tax-gatherer was a 
 hated outcast; when deformed little chil- 
 dren were left in the mountains to be eaten 
 by wild beasts ; when Roman Emperor and 
 Roman Governor and High Priest and 
 Pharisee alike valued gold above God, 
 riches above honor; this one man, this 
 simple shepherd of the hills, with his home 
 a grotto, stood uncorrupted. 
 
 He was a lineal descendant of that 
 brave Micaiah who had dared to tell the 
 truth even to a black-hearted King Ahab, 
 27 
 
THE STRANGERS 
 
 though to do so meant impoverishment, im- 
 prisonment, and months of torture by slow 
 starvation. Faithfully he had followed the 
 family traditions of love and truth and 
 courage and a stainless life. 
 
 Quickly Micaiah realized that as birds 
 driven by a storm seek shelter for the night 
 anywhere, so these strangers had come to 
 him, and he bade them welcome. Who 
 they were and whence they had come he 
 knew not. They were in need, and this 
 was an all-sufficient claim upon his hospi- 
 tality. 
 
 It was the established rule of his house- 
 hold that the best must be for his guests, 
 whomsoever they might be. Accordingly, 
 he led the way into a deep and high room 
 of the grotto, upon the walls of which were 
 suspended numberless relics of his ances- 
 tors — swords, musical instruments, drink- 
 ing cups, tattered and faded banners of his 
 28 
 
AT THE DOOR 
 
 tribe, the tribe of Judah, and scores of 
 shepherd's crooks and pipes. Five torches, 
 set in various parts of the large room, were 
 soon ablaze, and in their light each one of 
 the relics could be plainly seen. Each ob- 
 ject seemed to be telling the glorious and 
 yet pathetic history of the past. A harp, 
 an heirloom of more than three centuries, 
 stood in one corner, having most of the 
 strings broken. 
 
 Often, as Micaiah gazed upon these re- 
 minders of the past, he had mused, would 
 not the Master arise who would reset the 
 broken strings and reawaken the song in 
 a repentant people? Had not the prophet 
 declared that One would come Who 
 would give "beauty for ashes, the oil of 
 joy for mourning, the garment of praise for 
 the spirit of heaviness?" 
 
 Built along one side of the room was a 
 wide manger, partly filled with hay and 
 29 
 
THE STRANGERS 
 
 grain. Here Micaiah spread some large, 
 coarse, but clean blankets, while his de- 
 voted wife lost no time in preparing rice, a 
 hot drink, olives, cheese and bread, adding 
 a few dried figs and dates. 
 
 With that fine discernment which a lov- 
 ing heart ever gives, the host perceived that 
 absolute rest was the coveted boon of his 
 guests, and soon found excuse to retire and 
 leave them undisturbed for the night, while 
 he gave final attention to his ewes and 
 Iambs. As the thick curtain fell which 
 concealed chamber from chamber in the 
 deep cavern, Micaiah lifted his forefinger 
 in an impressive manner, which his little 
 family knew was a signal for silence. 
 
 The simple toys strewn about the grotto 
 floor were quietly gathered up and laid 
 aside, and after a whispered recital of some 
 of the choicest Hebrew legends, which the 
 children loved to have repeated again and 
 30 
 
AT THE DOOR 
 
 again, they, too, went to slumberland. 
 
 Micaiah and Jochebed, his ever loyal 
 wife, were left alone. In subdued tones 
 they spoke of the stirring events of the day. 
 Never had they seen so many people in 
 Bethlehem, not even during the Feast Days 
 of the Passover. To them it was not sur- 
 prising the village inn could hold no more 
 guests. 
 
 The welcome accorded the two strangers 
 from distant Nazareth was to them a mat- 
 ter of course. For the past twenty-five 
 years this grotto had been a Cave of Adul- 
 lam. Although numbered among earth's 
 poor, a simple shepherd people, they had 
 made many rich, and the path that led to 
 their humble dwelling was beaten hard by 
 many feet. At last they, too, slept^ — the 
 deep, peaceful sleep of a well-earned rest. 
 
 And Zeresh, the gruff, grizzled and 
 greedy inkeeper, likewise slept. Hidden 
 31 
 
THE STRANGERS 
 
 in the thick folds of his tunic was a leathern 
 bag containing his treasure. Never in so 
 short a time had he received so great riches. 
 Even in his sleep he chuckled over his gain. 
 
 While he slept, in the darkness of the 
 night his terrified wife crept silently from 
 the inn, taking her sleeping little girl in her 
 arms, and fled to the home of a cousin liv- 
 ing on an adjoining street. There she 
 would snatch a few hours' sleep ere he 
 awoke. 
 
 As Zeresh slept, a singular dream came 
 to him. Before him rose a palace of mar- 
 velous beauty. Massive columns of glis- 
 tening porphyry and malachite supported 
 the building. Floors of shining black and 
 white marble appeared in each spacious 
 room, and the side walls and ceiling were 
 formed from the choicest cedar. Antique 
 furniture of strange design and priceless 
 value, such as only a King Solomon could 
 32 
 
AT THE DOOR 
 
 as zeresh slept, a singular dream came to 
 him/' 
 
 33 
 
THE STRANGERS 
 
 possess, stood in profusion in every room 
 of the royal dwelling. Hangings of gold 
 and rich embroidery and costly needlework 
 marked the entrance to the succession of 
 rooms, while rare plants stood in a hundred 
 embrasures, adding their beauty and fra- 
 grance to the scene. Scattered over the 
 smooth floor, like sands of the sea, were 
 beautiful golden coins, so bright and shin- 
 ing it was evident they were fresh from the 
 hands of the goldsmith. Zeresh trembled 
 with joy. His energy had been rewarded 
 by this beautiful palace, and, in addition, 
 gold without measure. What more could 
 he desire? But gradually the scene 
 changed. Covering the floor of shining 
 marble, the massive pillars of malachite 
 and porphyry, the walls and ceilings of ce- 
 darwood, and overspreading each golden 
 coin, appeared a green mould. Had his 
 palace suddenly become a swamp? Thus 
 34 
 
AT THE DOOR 
 
 it seemed, for springing up from each coin 
 was seen a tiny white plant which grew 
 with the rapidity of the mushroom. As 
 these plants took shape they were seen to 
 be exactly like the monotropa tmi flora, 
 commonly known as the "corpse plant" or 
 "Indian pipe." How uncanny they 
 seemed! And worst of all, a poisonous 
 odor of deadly power emanated from each 
 plant, dulling his ears, dimming his sight, 
 benumbing his feelings, and stupefying his 
 brain. It seemed to Zeresh as though a 
 slow paralysis were creeping upon him. 
 And then — walking in the midst of the 
 palace, with flaming eyes fixed upon Ze- 
 resh, appeared an angel, tall, commanding, 
 stem of visage. In the center of the large 
 dining hall he paused. With awe and a 
 sinking fear gripping his heart, Zeresh fol- 
 lowed his every movement. Drawing from 
 underneath his arm a heavy book, each 
 35 
 
THE STRANGERS 
 
 page of which was embossed with large 
 raised golden letters, he opened the book 
 near the middle, and pointing with his long 
 forefinger to the top of the page, read: 
 "ZERESH, THE INKEEPER OF 
 BETHLEHEM. Jehovah intended thee 
 to give shelter this cold night to two weary 
 travelers from Nazareth in Galilee. Thou 
 didst close and bolt and bar the door of 
 thy heart against them. Thou hast sinned 
 the deep and awful sin — the sin of covet- 
 ousness; and hast added thereto the blind 
 and stubborn unbelief of thy stiffnecked 
 people. Jehovah intended thee this night 
 to look into the holy and blessed face of 
 the Messiah, about whom thy father hath 
 told thee for many years, and to Whom he 
 sought to lead thee. He was to be bom 
 in this thine inn. But now the Desire of 
 nations is forever hidden from thee. Thou 
 hast rejected Him.'* 
 
 36 
 
AT THE DOOR 
 
 As the angel was about to withdraw, a 
 piercing cry was uttered by Zeresh. 
 "Mercy! Mercy! Have mercy!** he 
 shouted. With the swiftness of the Hght a 
 look of tenderest pity came into the face of 
 the angel, and, lifting up his strong right 
 hand as if in blessing, he said, "Jehovah's 
 mercy is even for the most sinful, for He 
 declares, *Let the wicked forsake his way, 
 and the unrighteous mein his thoughts, and 
 let him return unto Jehovah and He will 
 have mercy upon him ; and to our God, for 
 He will abundantly pardon.' If thou wilt 
 truly repent, thou shalt even yet taste of 
 Jehovah's mercy; but if thou dost still 
 harden thine heart. His wrath shall abide 
 upon thee." And then — the angel was 
 gone. 
 
 By this time Zeresh was fully awake. 
 TTiat Jehovah had spoken to him through 
 his singular dream he doubted not, and 
 37 
 
THE STRANGERS 
 
 that he stood upon the brink of the awful 
 precipice, this, too, he did not question. 
 Nevertheless, the door of mercy was not 
 wholly closed against him. 
 
 The habits of a lifetime, however, are 
 not cast aside in a day. Instinctively 
 Zeresh felt for his bag of gold. It was 
 gone! Under cover of the night it had 
 been stolen by one of his guests. Gone, 
 also were his wife and child; where, he 
 knew not. At first an almost uncontroll- 
 able rage seized him. As of yore, the 
 spirit of vengeance was about to master 
 him; and then he recalled the final words 
 of the angel: "If thou wilt truly repent, 
 thou shalt even yet taste of Jehovah's 
 mercy ; but if thou dost harden thine heart. 
 His wrath shall abide upon thee." 
 
 Zeresh stood wrapped in profound 
 thought. As some tall cedar torn by the 
 tempest, so was it with him. TTie contend- 
 38 
 
AT THE DOOR 
 
 ing forces of two worlds were battling for 
 the mastery in his soul. Which would pre- 
 vail — greed, hatred and unbelief, or faith, 
 hope and love? Would he in the end prove 
 a child of the night or a child of the day? 
 
 Micaiah, the keeper of the grotto, as he 
 glided across the mysterious line which di- 
 vides a man's wakeful hours from his hours 
 of sleep, slept the deep, satisfying sleep of 
 a man who has toiled diligently and lies 
 down in the consciousness of work squarely 
 done, and in the knowledge of a sincere 
 effort to sweeten the lives of others. So 
 lost in sleep was he that he did not hear, 
 in the silent hours of the night, smothered 
 cries of anguish ; but what he failed to hear 
 did not escape the trained ear of Jochebed, 
 his loyal wife, and with the swiftness of a 
 gazelle she leaped to the side of Mary, the 
 espoused wife of Joseph, and was a true 
 39 
 
THE STRANGERS 
 
 "mother of Israel** that night. 
 
 And still Micaiah lay wrapped in un- 
 consciousness of the wonders taking place 
 about him; and as he slept, he also 
 dreamed. To him, too, appeared, not one 
 angel, but five. As they drew near it 
 seemed as though the radiance of a thou- 
 sand rainbows was bursting upon him and 
 his family. The thin coverlets overspread- 
 ing his children were all aglow with light. 
 Their bronzed faces and hands were il- 
 lumined with the refulgent glory of another 
 world. 
 
 An unseen door had opened by an un- 
 seen hand, and through that open door 
 rushed the beauty of a light such as he had 
 never before beheld. His breath came 
 quick and fast. His big rough hands quiv- 
 ered with excitement. What might it all 
 mean? As the first angel spoke, he said, 
 "Thy name is Micaiah. Henceforth thou 
 40 
 
AT THE DOOR 
 
 shalt be called Judah, for in thy midst is 
 born this night Him Who for all ages shall 
 be known as *the Lion of the Tribe of 
 Judah.' His strength shall he thy strength.'* 
 
 The second angel stepped forward and 
 said, "Thy flocks and thy herds shall mul- 
 tiply as the flocks and herds of Jacob, and 
 thy fields shall yield an hundredfold.'* 
 
 The third angel quickly followed, say- 
 ing, "Thy children shall honor and obey 
 thee all thy days, and shall bear the glory 
 of thy name through all future genera- 
 tions." 
 
 The fourth angel added, "And the days 
 of thy faithful, loving wife shall be greatly 
 lengthened, and she shall comfort thee all 
 thy way." 
 
 The fifth angel concluded, "Thy por- 
 tion at last shall be with the just. The 
 believing heart is granted thee, and thou 
 shalt be forever with thy Redeemer, whom 
 41 
 
THE STRANGERS 
 
 this night thou hast sheltered.*' 
 
 A joy unspeakable shone in each angel 
 face, and that joy swept through the soul 
 of Micaiah and made it as though a thou- 
 sand harps were playing in sweetest unison. 
 The joy of the angels was too great to find 
 expression in the few words which they 
 had uttered. Suddenly they began to 
 sing — 
 
 **0, little town of Bethlehem. 
 
 How still we see thee lie! 
 Above thy deep and dreamless sleep 
 
 The silent stars go by: 
 Yet in thy dark streets shineth 
 
 The everlasting Light: 
 The hopes and fears of all the years 
 
 Are met in thee tonight. 
 
 •Tor Christ is born of Mary. 
 And, gathered all above. 
 While mortals sleep the angels keep 
 Their watch of wondering love. 
 42 
 
AT THE DOOR 
 
 And peace to men on earth. 
 O, morning stars, together 
 
 Proclaim the holy birth! 
 And praises sing to God, the King, 
 
 "How silently, how silently. 
 
 The wondrous gift is given! 
 So God imparts to human hearts 
 
 The blessings of His heaven. 
 No ear may hear His coming. 
 
 But in this world of sin. 
 Where meek souls will receive Him still. 
 
 The dear Christ enters in.'* 
 
 As they finished and were about to with- 
 draw from the sleeper's sight, they said, 
 "Some day a man will be bom with a soul 
 so pure and a life so noble that he will 
 catch this song from our lips and hand it 
 down to earth." And then — they were 
 gone. 
 
 Micaiah, with heart leaping for glad- 
 ness, awoke. Softly he arose from his bed. 
 Quietly he wrapped his garments about 
 43 
 
THE STRANGERS 
 
 him. With noiseless tread he stepped to 
 the heavy curtain which concealed his 
 guests from view, and gently drew it aside. 
 All was still! No. all was not still. A 
 man, in broken tones, was praying. Mi- 
 caiah was chained to the spot. He did not 
 wish to intrude, but seemed powerless to 
 move, and so overheard Joseph's prayer. 
 It was this: "Jehovah, Thou hast given us 
 Thy Son this night! Thou hast fulfilled 
 Thy promise to us and to Thy people. 
 We adore Thee. We bless Thy name. 
 Make known Thy Son to all the earth. 
 Amen." Mingled with this prayer were 
 the sobs and tears of a strong man over- 
 come by the greatness of the emotions 
 which shook his powerful frame. 
 
 As Joseph rose from his knees, the two 
 
 men looked into each other's faces ; the one, 
 
 with cheeks wet with tears, the other with 
 
 face radiant with the light of heaven. 
 
 44 
 
AT THE DOOR 
 
 They clasped hands. They flung their 
 arms about one another and wept together, 
 even as David and Jonathan wept upon 
 each other's neck. A common hope made 
 them one. Together they knelt before the 
 Babe of Bethlehem. Mary and Jochebed, 
 too, joined in their adoration. They were 
 the first worshipers at the feet of the new- 
 born King. 
 
 Rising from his knees, Micaiah whis- 
 pered, *T must hasten, and tell the good 
 news to the shepherds out upon the plains. 
 Long we have waited and long we have 
 prayed together for His coming." 
 
 But he did not need to go. Already the 
 shepherds were at the door. To them also 
 had the angels brought the glad tidings, 
 **Fear not; for behold, I bring you good 
 tidings of great joy, which shall be to all 
 people. For unto you is born this day, in 
 the City of David, a Saviour, which is 
 45 
 
THE STRANGERS 
 
 Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign 
 unto you: Ye shall find the Babe wrapped 
 in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.** 
 
 In a manger they were to find the Hope 
 of Israel! Quickly their thoughts flew to 
 Micaiah. In all Bethlehem and the hill 
 country of Judea the shepherds knew of no 
 one so good and true as their own Micaiah. 
 To him they hastened, and within the rock- 
 hewn chambers of his grotto they, too, 
 found the Christ-Child. A new and won- 
 drous joy flooded their souls. A new hope, 
 brighter than the stars they watched by 
 night, now inspired them. One passion 
 took possession of them. Others must 
 know the Christ-Child. 
 
 As they turned and were about to go 
 forth to spread the glad news of the Christ- 
 Child, a strange sight met their eyes. An 
 old man stood close behind them. It was 
 Zeresh, the innkeeper. 
 46 
 
AT THE DOOR 
 
 Micaiah, more zealous than the other 
 shepherds, had quietly left his companions 
 while they were still wrapped in wonder, 
 and had hastened through the little village 
 of Bethlehem, telling the marvelous story 
 of the coming of the Christ-Child. When 
 the heart is sorely troubled man will give 
 heed. So it was with Zeresh. Jehovah 
 had ploughed deep, and prepared his heart 
 for the new truth. Attentively he listened 
 to the thrilling story of the coming of the 
 Messiah as it was rapidly told by Micaiah. 
 Zeres/i believed. The Christ at last had 
 not knocked in vain. The innkeeper was 
 no longer a child of the night, but of the 
 day. No time was lost in seeking his 
 greatly-wronged wife and child. Ear- 
 nestly and sincerely he entreated and ob- 
 tained their forgiveness, and they, too, 
 turned their feet towards the Bethlehem 
 manger and the Hope of the nations. 
 47 
 
THE STRANGERS 
 
 yea, even for thee and for me hath he 
 come/' 
 
 48 
 
AT THE DOOR 
 
 As Zeresh gazed upon the Christ-Child, 
 in his eyes shone a look of unutterable won- 
 der, and upon his face was the glory of 
 heaven. 
 
 "Even for me He has come; even fori 
 me," he said, in broken tones. Stepping to 
 his side and grasping him by the hand Mi- 
 caiah added, *"Tis true. The Master Mu- 
 sician has come to reset the broken strings 
 in every heart and reawaken the song in 
 every life.*' At the same time the tender- 
 hearted Joseph drew near, and wrapping his 
 strong arm of love about Zeresh, said, "It 
 is written, *The Sun of Righteousness shall 
 arise with healing in His wings. Under 
 His burning rays all cold and frost and 
 snow and ice will vanish and the soul's glad 
 summer time shall come with its bursting 
 buds and ripening fruits. The sunshine of 
 His love and mercy is for all. Yea, even 
 for thee and for me hath He come.' '* 
 49 
 
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