aged
man must stand in some very near relation to one or other of the victors
at Olympia; but when he heard that he was Aristomachus-the father of
that glorious pair of brothers, whose wondrous forms were constantly
hovering before his eyes like visions sent down from the abodes of the
gods, then he too gazed on the sobbing old man with mingled envy and
admiration, and made no effort to restrain the tears which rushed into
his own eyes, usually so clear and keen. In those days men wept, as well
as women, hoping to gain relief from the balm of their own tears. In
wrath, in ecstasy of delight, in every deep inward anguish, we find the
mighty heroes weeping, while, on the other hand, the Spartan boys would
submit to be scourged at the altar of Artemis Orthia, and would bleed
and even die under the lash without uttering a moan, in order to obtain
the praise of the men.

For a time every one remained silent, out of respect to the old man's
emotion. But at last the stillness was broken by Joshua the Jew, who
began thus, in broken Greek:

"Weep thy fill, O man of Sparta! I also have known what it is to lose
a son. Eleven years have passed since I buried him in the land of
strangers, by the waters of Babylon, where my people pined in captivity.
Had yet one year been added unto the life of the beautiful child, he
had died in his own land, and had been buried in the sepulchres of his
fathers. But Cyrus the Persian (Jehovah bless his posterity!) released
us from bondage one year too late, and therefore do I weep doubly for
this my son, in that he is buried among the enemies of my people Israel.
Can there be an evil greater than to behold our children, who are unto
us as most precious treasure, go down into the grave before us? And, may
the Lord be gracious unto me, to lose so noble a son, in the dawn of his
early manhood, just at the moment he had won such brilliant renown, must
indeed be a bitter grief, a grief beyond all others!"

Then the Spartan took away his hands from before his face; he was
looking stern, but smiled through his tears, and answered:

"Phoenician, you err! I weep not for anguish, but for joy, and would
have gladly lost my other son, if he could have died like my Lysander."

The Jew, horrified at these, to him, sinful and unnatural words, shook
his head disapprovingly; but the Greeks overwhelmed the old man with
congratulations, deeming him much to be envied. His great happiness
made Aristomachus look yo