Joseph and His Bride - Festival of Postcards

This wonderful illustration was done by J. C. Leyendecker. He became well known for his use of light and shadow within shadow. He was the premier cover illustrator for The Saturday Post for much of the first half of the 20th century. Leyendecker was mentor and friend of Norman Rockwell, who was a pallbearer at Leyendecker's funeral in 1951.

This postcard is my submission for the Festival of postcards - White. Here is Leyendecker's fanciful illustration from the ancient story of Joseph found in Jewish history. We do know Joseph married and had children, but nothing is said of his wife--pictured here. Some say she was a high-born Egyptian Princess. I like to think so, and I love this illustration because of its beauty and passion.

Joseph dreamed his brothers and family would bow to him one day. His father clearly doted upon the boy and gave him a beautiful multi-colored coat. Joseph's brothers became so jealous of their younger brother, they sold Joseph into slavery and told their father he had been killed by a wild animal. In Egypt because of his honesty and fairness, he rose to great heights, only to be falsely accused of rape and thrown into prison.

There, despite being a prisoner in that dark place, his intimacy with God put him in direct contact with the Pharaoh. When Joseph correctly interpreted the dreams tormenting the Pharaoh--seven years of plenty to be followed by seven years of famine--the ruler appointed Joseph to a powerful position just below his own. Joseph was put in charge of gathering grains and foods over the seven years of plenty, in order to have enough for the people when the seven years of famine overtook them.

When his brothers came to Egypt seeking grain, they did not recognize their own brother. In time, when Joseph revealed who he was to them, they became afraid. But Joseph told them, "Do not fear. You meant this for harm, but God used it for good."

Roses On His High-Heeled Shoes

We left our hero standing, keg on shoulder, beneath a pool of potent stares thrown his direction by group of odd little men.

Rip Van Winkle was filled with fear and apprehension, but he could not help but to gape back at them. "Their visages, too, were peculiar: one had a large head, broad face, and small piggish eyes: the face of another was surmounted by a white sugar-loaf hat, set off with a little red cock's tail. They all had beards of various shapes and colors."

A stout old gentleman with a weather beaten countenance, wearing high-heeled shoes festooned with roses, seemed to be their leader.



The leader motioned Rip Van Winkle to lower the keg of liquor he bore. His companion then emptied the contents of the keg into several large stone flagons which occupied a nearby oaken table. Then he made signs to Rip Van Winkle to wait upon the motley company. He, though frightened beyond belief, obeyed with fear and trembling. The old men quaffed the liquor in profound silence, then returned to their game of nine-pins.

As Rip Van Winkle watched, he noticed their faces were grave. The sombre stillness in which they played seemed mysterious. And he noted that, as they continued in their game, the little men were "were, withal, the most melancholy part of pleasure," that Rip Van Winkle had ever witnessed.

"Only the noise of the balls, when they were rolled, echoed against the mountains like rumbling peals of thunder."
As he watched them a certain peace seemed to steal over his soul. By degrees his fear, awe and profound apprehension subsided. He even, when the old men were thus occupied, ventured to taste the beverage, which he then determined was much to his liking.

Being a thirsty soul, Rip Van Winkle was soon tempted to take another drought. "One taste provoked another; and he reiterated his visits to the flagon so often, that at length his senses were overpowered, his eyes swam in his head, his head gradually declined and he fell into a deep sleep."

And there I shall leave you, dear readers, until next time!