Magdala, and perhaps they knew enough of his story to add, who has been making money in Jerusalem himself and has no doubt come to Galilee to engage his father in some new trade that will extort more money from the poor.  He is not for thy company.  A great aversion seized him for Capernaum, and he walked, overcome with grief, to the lake’s edge and stooped to pick up a smooth stone, thinking to send it skimming over the water, as he used to when a boy; but there was neither the will nor the strength in him for the innocent sport, and he lay down, exhausted in mind and body, to lament this new triumph of the demon that from the beginning of his life thwarted him and interrupted all his designs—­this time intervening at the last moment as if with a purpose of great cruelty.  This demon seemed to him to descend out of the blue air and sometimes to step out of the blue water, and Joseph was betimes moved to rush into the lake, for there seemed to him no other way of escaping from him.  Then he would turn back from the foam and the reeds, and pray to the demon to leave him for some little while in peace:  let me be with Jesus for a little while, and then I’ll do thy bidding.  Tie the tongues of those that would tell him I’m the son of a rich man—­Simon Peter, James and John, sons of Zebedee.  James would say a word in his favour, but Jesus would answer:  why did he not tell these things to me overnight?  And if he loves me, why does he not rid himself of the wealth that separates him from me?

Well, young Master, cried somebody behind him, now what be ye thinking over this fine morning?  Of the fish the nets will bring to be safely packed away in your father’s barrels?  My father’s barrels be accursed!  Joseph exclaimed, springing to his feet.  And why dost thou call me master?  I’m not master, nor art thou servant.  And then, his eyes opening fully to the external world, he recognised the nearly hunchback Philip of Capernaum—­a high-necked, thick-set fellow, in whom a hooked nose and prominent eyes were the distinguishing features.  A sail-maker, that spoke with a sharp voice, and Joseph remembered him as combining the oddest innocence of mind regarding spiritual things with a certain shrewdness in the conduct of his business.  Thy voice startled me out of a dream, Joseph said, and I knew not what I said.  Beg pardon, Master—­but the word “Sir” you like no better, and it would sound unseemly to call you “Joseph” and no more.  As we are not born the same height nor strength nor wits, such little differences as “Sir” and “Master” get into our speech.  All those that love God are the same, and there is neither class nor wealth, only love, Joseph answered passionately.  That is the teaching of the new prophet Jesus, Philip replied, his yapping voice assuming an inveigling tone or something like one.  I was in Magdala yester evening, and spent the night in my debtor’s house, and as we were figuring out the principal and interest a neighbour came in, and