Peter Clark MacFarlane

Peter Clark MacFarlane

Summary

Portrait of Peter Clark MacFarlane Peter Clark MacFarlane The Centurion's Story (1910)

As the fever of his pain set in, with my own hands, I offered him upon a reed, the customary stupefying draught, but Marcus, he would not take it. This man, humiliated, tortured, scourged and scorned; his nerves torn with pain; his body racked with fever; his veins sapped of strength—refused. It was the noblest, most heroic act mine eyes have ever seen. He must suffer; therefore, he would suffer. As the flesh of him grew weak, I swear the soul of him grew stronger. It was the same spirit I saw in the garden and in the man before Caiaphas. The man suffers because he will, not because he must.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Peter Clark MacFarlane Peter Clark MacFarlane The Centurion's Story (1910)

The Jew was alive. His body thrilled again with life. His cold and pulseless corpse was not stolen from the tomb by the craven hearts of fear-stricken men, but he rose as men wake from slumber, and walked forth warm and glowing with the glister of a different existence, for the glory of the Man, which mine eyes had seen for a moment, was the glory of God himself. The ordered linen cloths, the heaped up myrrh and aloes, the creased and folded head-dress all proclaimed that angels had come to serve him and for a moment this rock-hewn crypt had become the tiring room of the son of the Immortal.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Peter Clark MacFarlane Peter Clark MacFarlane The Centurion's Story (1910)

Unwrapped, I say, Marcus. Note that. For here the theory of a desecrated tomb halted abruptly. What body thieves would pause to remove the shroud? Would they not, fearful of discovery, snatch the corpse and make off with it swiftly in a frenzy of terror? However it might be desirable to lighten the body of this round hundred pounds of spices. So my grave-robbing theory got upon its legs and limped on a few paces, only to receive its death-blow as I looked upon the shroud itself, composed of strips of linen cloth, and folded in a pile, I swear to you, Marcus, as a woman might have done it.
Source: Wikisource

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