Now sitting on his bed, kept awake by his memories, Joseph relived in thought the hours he had spent with Jesus.  He seemed to comprehend the significance of every word much better now than when he was with Jesus, and he deplored his obtuseness and revised all the answers given to Jesus.  He remembered with sorrow how he tried to explain to Jesus the teaching of the Alexandrian philosophers regarding the Scriptures, paining Jesus very much by his recital but he had continued to explain for the sake of the answer that he knew would come at last.  It did come.  He remembered Jesus saying that philosophies change in different men, but the love of God is the same in all men.  A great truth, Joseph said to himself, for every school is in opposition to another school.  But how did Jesus come to know this being without philosophy?  He had been tempted to ask how he was able to get at the truth of things without the Greek language and without education, but refrained lest a question should break the harmony of the evening.  The past was not yet past and sitting on his bed in the moonlight Joseph could re-see the plain covered with beautiful grasses and flowers, with low flowering bushes waving over dusky headlands, for it was dark as they crossed the plain; and they had heard rather than seen the rushing stream, bubbling out of the earth, making music in the still night.  He knew the stream from early childhood, but he had never really known it until he stood with Jesus under the stars by the narrow pathway cut in the shoulder of the hill, whither the way leads to Capernaum, for it was there that Jesus took his hands and said the words:  “Our Father which is in Heaven.”  At these words their eyes were raised to the skies, and Jesus said:  whoever admires the stars and the flowers finds God in his heart and sees him in his neighbour’s face.  And as Joseph sat, his hands on his knees, he recalled the moment that Jesus turned from him abruptly and passed into the shadow of the hillside that fell across the flowering mead.  He heard his footsteps and had listened, repressing the passionate desire to follow him and to say:  having found thee, I can leave thee never again.  It was fear of Jesus that prevented him from following Jesus, and he returned slowly the way he came, his eyes fixed on the stars, for the day was now well behind the hills and the night all over the valley, calm and still.  The stars in their allotted places, he said:  as they have always been and always will be.  He stood watching them.  Behind the stars that twinkled were stars that blazed; behind the stars that blazed were smaller stars, and behind them a sort of luminous dust.  And all this immensity is God’s dwelling-place, he said.  The stars are God’s eyes; we live under his eyes and he has given us a beautiful garden to live in.  Are we worthy of it? he asked; and Jew though he was he forgot God for a moment in the sweetness of the breathing of earth, for there is no more lovely plain in the spring of the year than the Plain of Gennesaret.