University of Virginia Library


115

CONTRASTS AND SIMILITUDES.

Three Pilgrims of the old Bay State
Have wandered from their friends away,
And rest a bit within your gate,
Their Pilgrim offerings to pay.
Not like the Pilgrims known of yore,
With grizzly beards and scallop shell,
And dusty clothes and pedals sore,
And hardships that were sad to tell.
We do not brag of weary tramps,
Of hungry fasts, and shrines afar;
Instead of stumps we favor stamps,
And plod it in a railroad car.
We read the story of the two
Who penance did to walk on peas,
The one of whom went glibly through,
The other sore and ill at ease.

116

And when the first was asked how he
Could walk so easily about,
Replied, with grinning phiz, “You see,
I boiled my peas ere I set out.”
So easily we come to-night,
With friendly sympathy aglow;
We heard your word of kind invite,
And like Rebekah said—“I'll go!”
“I'll go!” and this recalls a tale
We in the good old Bible read,
Where different customs did prevail
From those that in these days we heed.
Now, when a young man seeks to wed,
He wants no fussy parent's aid,
But puts his best hat on his head,
And goes right off and asks the maid.
If she says “Yes,” why, well and good,
The old folks all ignored, you see;
But things were not so understood
Down in the land of old Judee.
The patriarch Abraham, well in years,
Deemed that, before he closed his life,
'Twere best to seek among his peers
And find young Israel a wife.

117

Isaac was only forty-three
When his papa conceived this thought;
The merest infant, you'll agree,
Whose tender judgment passed for nought.
To years discreet he hadn't come,
And so a servant Abraham sent
To choose a wife, and bring her home,
To share the youthful Israel's tent.
First Abraham prayed and asked a sign,
To show the servant where to go;
And the far land of sheep and kine
The answering voice of Heaven did show.
But Abraham said that, any how,
His boy no heathen maid should wed;
And so the servant made a vow,
And straightway to Judea sped.
He'd seen a damsel by a spring,
Revealed on his celestial chart;
And camels took and many a thing
Likely to win a maiden's heart.
He came unto a Jewish town,
Where, by a wayside sparkling rill,
Maidens at eventide came down
Their jugs and demijohns to fill.

118

The servant prayed: “Was she with these
Whom he in his long journey sought?
If so, Lord, let her serve him, please,
And give his kneeling beasts a thought.”
He asked the boon, when one straightway
Drew from the well the water cold,
And said, “Now drink yourself, sir, pray,
Then let your beasts drink all they'll hold.”
He thanked her for her courtesy,
In good old-fashioned Bible way,—
Speaking in manner somewhat free,
Without the nonsense of to-day.
He asked her, “Who are you, my dear?”
Said she, “Rebekah, Bethuel's daughter,
Grandchild of Nahor, Abraham's frère,
Come out to draw our folks some water.”
And then the servant truly knew
That she was just the one he sought;
She was right beautiful to view,
And innocent in deed and thought.
He on her a rare gift bestowed,—
Earrings and bracelets pure and bright,
And asked her if at her abode
She thought they'd keep him over night.

119

She pledged him welcome and ran home
Her brother Laban there to tell,
Who with an eager haste did come
Where stood the stranger at the well,—
And took him home, and there he told
The errand which his care so tasked;
They saw the Lord in all unfold,
But thought Rebekah should be asked.
'Twas very kind in them, no doubt,
To give the maid a chance to choose,
Whom Heaven had formed the match without—
And what if she should dare refuse!
So she was called, and straightway given
All of her mission high to know,
And, seeing 'twas the will of Heaven,
She firmly said at once—I'll go!
Never was courtship quicker done,
Never an answer quicker made;
Were she a more romantic one
The answer might have been delayed.
But 'twas the will of Heaven, you know,
Not reckoned like our common chances;
Things then were nothing near as slow
As they appear in our romances.

120

Ah, day of simple blessedness!
In this thou art appreciated,
When twenty yards compose a dress,
The wardrobe twenty duplicated.
No Saratoga trunks were hers,
Her bridal trip to mar and trammel;
She made no draft on milliners,
But took her bundle on a camel.
She had no dread of fortune rough,
—This simple-hearted Jewish daughter;—
Perhaps she thought she'd drudged enough,
And Laban left to draw the water.
So off she went—and none more true,
As wife and mother, e'er existed,
Except that fact of Jacob's stew,
Which I confess seems somewhat twisted.
The meaning of my humble rhyme
Is in the two words herein quoted:
I'll go!—an energy sublime
Invests the words with zeal devoted.
And the Rebekahs of our day,
Who the same generous rule pursue,
Enact in as sublime a way
The conduct of the gentle Jew.

121

Where duty's call by them is heard,
Where speaks the heart oppressed by woe,
Where men grow sick with hope deferred,
Their voice responds as then—I'll go!
There's hope and blessing in the cup
They pour, dark sorrow to beguile;
The dying eye with joy lights up
To catch the beaming of their smile.
We have no rings or bracelets fine
To deck the ones we honor so;
But let us prove the call divine,
And straight they answer it—I'll go!
Rebekah prompts our energy,
She strengthens every thought of good,
She leads us hopefully to see
The truth in all vicissitude.
She gives a charm to friendship's claim,
And Love assumes a purer sway
When she divinely feeds the flame
To light us o'er life's troubled way.
We bring no camels in our train,
Nor thirsting men to claim her care;
But she upon the Judean plain,
Had not, than these, more virtues rare.

122

And all the hospitable grace
That in the Jewess fair we see,
In Rhoda wears as bright a face
As e'er did hers in old Judee.
And we with imitative mind,
As such traits our Rebekahs show,
Feel to hold back no whit inclined,
But say, like her of old, “I'll go!”
 

Read on the occasion of a visit to Naomi Lodge of Rebekah, at Providence, R. I.