“Hatred of the Roman is drawn in with the maternal milk. You see now the necessity for maintaining so large a military force in Judæa. Africa, once the seat of the Carthaginian empire, is kept in order by a single legion. One legion, too, suffices for warlike Spain. Greece, once so great in deeds of arms, hath no legion at all within her bounds. These turbulent Jews require three legions. Think of it! Thirty-six thousand men perpetually under arms in a province no larger than our native Latium, so restless are these Jews, so hostile to our rule.” “Why that stoppage in front?” said Crispus, glancing ahead at a group of distant pilgrims who had come to a sudden standstill in a way that threatened to impede the march of the oncoming Romans. “That,” replied Rufus, “is another proof of Jewish contempt for the foreigner. The stone you see by the roadside marks the border of two provinces. At present we are in heathen Phœnicia; pass that stone, and we are in holy Judæa. Your Hebrew, on arriving at the frontier, takes off his sandals and carefully wipes them, lest he should pollute the sacred soil of Judæa by bringing upon it the profane dust of other lands.” Crispus looked, and saw that it was even as Rufus had said. Every Jew, upon coming to the frontier-stone, removed his shoes, and either wiped or shook them, a somewhat useless cleansing, seeing that a minute afterwards the six hundred men of the Italian Cohort were bringing in Phœnician dust with them. “You are a patrician of Rome,” said Rufus, addressing Crispus, “proud of your pure and lofty lineage, but know this, that if the vilest beggar in Jerusalem should be touched by you on the eve of the passover he would deem himself so unclean as to be unable to keep the feast. Purification by bathing would entitle him to the privilege of the supplementary passover held seven days later to meet such cases.” A march of some twenty-five miles brought the cohort to Antipatris, a military station guarding the line of communication between Cæsarea and Jerusalem. Within the barracks of this town Rufus found ample accommodation for his troops. At nightfall he and Crispus ascended to the battlements of the Roman castle; from their lofty position the two could see the whole extent of Sharon, from the mountains to the sea, whitened by the silvery moonlight. Far and wide over the landscape gleamed the fires of the Jewish pilgrims, camping for the night under the leafy terebinth or by the wayside spring. “List!” said Rufus, with uplifted finger. Floating upward from the valley below came the sound of many voices conjoined in a mournful melody. Now and again Crispus could faintly catch some of the words of the refrain. “If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget her cunning!”