Cedars of Lebanon: Neilah in Gehenna
The town square. An ordinary day, neither a market day nor a day of the fair, a day of drowsy small activity. Suddenly there is heard, coming from just outside the town, approaching nearer and nearer, a wild impetuous clatter, a splutter and splashing of mud, a racket of furious wheels! In-ter-est-ing, think the merchants, wonder who it is? At their booths, at their storefronts, they peer out, curious.
As the galloping horse, the thundering wagon, turn into and careen through the square, they are recognized! The townsfolk recoil, revulsion and fear and anger upon their faces: the Informer of the neighboring town is at it again. Post-haste to the capital! God alone knows on whom he is going to do a job now.
Suddenly a stillness falls upon the market place. Reluctantly, with loathing, the townsfolk look around. The wagon has come to a halt. The horse is lazily nuzzling in the mire of the wheel ruts. And the Informer, fallen from his seat, lies stretched on the ground!
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