[Footnote 3:  Itiner., Sec. 5.]

[Footnote 4:  Ant.  Martyr, Itiner., Sec. 5.]

The horizon from the town is limited.  But if we ascend a little the plateau, swept by a perpetual breeze, which overlooks the highest houses, the prospect is splendid.  On the west are seen the fine outlines of Carmel, terminated by an abrupt point which seems to plunge into the sea.  Before us are spread out the double summit which towers above Megiddo; the mountains of the country of Shechem, with their holy places of the patriarchal age; the hills of Gilboa, the small, picturesque group to which are attached the graceful or terrible recollections of Shunem and of Endor; and Tabor, with its beautiful rounded form, which antiquity compared to a bosom.  Through a depression between the mountains of Shunem and Tabor are seen the valley of the Jordan and the high plains of Peraea, which form a continuous line from the eastern side.  On the north, the mountains of Safed, in inclining toward the sea conceal St. Jean d’Acre, but permit the Gulf of Khaifa to be distinguished.  Such was the horizon of Jesus.  This enchanted circle, cradle of the kingdom of God, was for years his world.  Even in his later life he departed but little beyond the familial limits of his childhood.  For yonder, northward, a glimpse is caught, almost on the flank of Hermon, of Caesarea-Philippi, his furthest point of advance into the Gentile world; and here southward, the more sombre aspect of these Samaritan hills foreshadows the dreariness of Judea beyond, parched as by a scorching wind of desolation and death.

If the world, remaining Christian, but attaining to a better idea of the esteem in which the origin of its religion should be held, should ever wish to replace by authentic holy places the mean and apocryphal sanctuaries to which the piety of dark ages attached itself, it is upon this height of Nazareth that it will rebuild its temple.  There, at the birthplace of Christianity, and in the centre of the actions of its Founder, the great church ought to be raised in which all Christians may worship.  There, also, on this spot where sleep Joseph, the carpenter, and thousands of forgotten Nazarenes who never passed beyond the horizon of their valley, would be a better station than any in the world beside for the philosopher to contemplate the course of human affairs, to console himself for their uncertainty, and to reassure himself as to the Divine end which the world pursues through countless falterings, and in spite of the universal vanity.

CHAPTER III.

EDUCATION OF JESUS.

This aspect of Nature, at once smiling and grand, was the whole education of Jesus.  He learned to read and to write,[1] doubtless, according to the Eastern method, which consisted in putting in the hands of the child a book, which he repeated in cadence with his little comrades, until he knew it by heart.[2] It is doubtful, however, if he understood the Hebrew writings in their original tongue.  His biographers make him quote them according to the translations in the Aramean tongue;[3] his principles of exegesis, as far as we can judge of them by those of his disciples, much resembled those which were then in vogue, and which form the spirit of the Targums and the Midrashim.[4]