The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, December 28, 1902, Page 4

4 Every eye, those particularly of the mewly arrived little company of self-right- cous conspirators and tempters, was fixed upon the Master. As he saw the trembling, agonized creature before him, & deep blush suftused his face and he looked quickly downward. The native modesty of his pure human soul was touched, mortified, abash I have heard many eloguent, moving, convincing words fall from his lips, but none that spoke such a lesson in modesty @s that flush of crimsom, that udden, downward look. He blushed, I am sure, for the woman, for those who had s0 Indelicately dfagged her into a public and holy place, for the lowness and sen- suality of human nature; blushed also for bimself, as might a pure and innocent maiden, for the first time brought face to face with carnal impurity. Traces of the blush still lingered upon his face as he raised his eyes and fixed them upon those who should have blushed in turn, but who stood brazenly sneerin a¥'the confusion that had overwhelm him. He spoke no word, but his calm, dignified look of mingled surprise and Ip- terrogation for an immediate explanation. “Rabbl,” said an oid Pharisee, whose deeply fringed robe swepli the stone flag- {m‘ end who bore many broad phylac- eries, proclaiming at once certain strik- ing passages of the law and the right- eousness of the wearer, “this woman was taken in aduitery.” “In the very act” added another, who wes garbed and adorned in a like Osten- tatious manner. As he spoke he looked about him, as if expecting applause for his immodest and brutal frankness. “Moses commanded us in the law that #uch shouid be stoned,” continued the first speaker. ‘“What sayest thop?” Though the Master had ever condemned all forms of impurity, even that which only manifests itself in the heart, he hatl aiso ever preached the doctrine of forgive- nese of sins, and hath, many times, self pardoned offenders. Doubtless h tempters thought that his gentle spirit end loving, pitying heart, would plead for the wretched offender and prevent his condemning her, thus placing him in dls- tinct opposition to the law. His manner in observing the woman cer- Ju ied_the hopeful faces of the conspirators. 1f he showed abhorrence, it was abhorrence of sin, noi of the poor einner, for whose escape from a_terrible death there could have been, in her own distracted mind, no earthly chance. Nor was there; but she and her accusers had to do with one who though born of wo- man, partakes of the nature of God, and deals in heavenly, rather than earthly things. The Master paid no attention to the edroitly put question, but stos down &nd wrote with the tip of his finger in the dust upon the brown flag-stones. “Hath fallen suddenly deaf?” asked & young man of the party. “Exercise thy miraculous powers of healing end open thine own ears,” added another, while all sneered, some laughing Gerisively. “How sayest th Rabbi?” said the old P who had t propounded the question; “shail she be stoned as Moses commanded 7" “'Tis en aggravated case,” added the second oid man; “‘remember that, Rabbl.” “Hast no words wherewith to answer & father in Israel, one of thé chief men of the Holy City?" demanded a youthful = - 1 well understood that the Lord was not feigning deafness that he might avoid an embarrassing issue, and 1 fancled that I understood the meaning of his action. Words written in the dust are quickly obliterated, and to write a name thus was, in the olden time, & symbol of forgetting, of forgiveness, as is shown by the words of the prophet Jeremiah: ““They that de. from me shall be written in the earth, use they have forsaken the Lord, the fountain of living waters.” “He speaks glibly’ enoug the young scribe, of understanding or authority to question him.' ‘With this the Master left off writh and rose to & sitting posture. He look pityingly, almost tenderly, at the sinful woman, sternly, abhorrently, upon his tempters, and said as he stooped down to begin writing again: “Let him among you who is sinless be first to cast a stone at her.” The had recovered his hearing, the dumb his voice; those who sought to entrap the Master had been answered. And what an answer! Divinely endowed with wisdom though he was, Solomon uttered naught to compare with this. The justice, mercy and love of the Father had spoken through his Divine Son. The accusers of the gullty woman un- derstood the anewer as though a thunder- laden blast from the sacred top of Mount Einal had swept through Solomon’'s porch, blowing into their white faces the dust " remarked “‘when there are none wherein the speaker was row calmly writing. Under the law, those upon whose testimony one hath been con- demned to death are reguired to cast the first stone. The great wisdom of this regulation bad been far exceeded in this epplication of it. Human nature, even of the most arrogant and hardened char- acter, Is scarcely proof against such a stinging blow. The haughty Pharisees, Eneering scribes and worldly _Herodians felt and winced under it. It was an answer that admitted of no argument and ‘h’le% attempted none. e two old men who had acted as spokesmen exchanged a bewlldered look, end, bowing their white heads, departed together. As they recovered suffictent composure to realize the personal applica- tion of the mild yet terrible remark, the others followed, going one by one, the young sceibe being the last to leave the &pot. At length, em!dst a stillness so profound that the falling of & head of barley might well have been audible, the Master lifted s bead and rose to an erect position. “Woman, where are thine accusers?” he asked, seeing that their places were wvacant. “Hath no man condemned thee?” “No man, Lord,” she replied, raising her tear-laden eyes toward his kindly face. “Neither do 1 condemn thee; go, and sin no_more." The woman obeyed the command and au!ttefl the place, but not until she had rst prostrated herself at the Master's feet, acknowledging him as the Messiah @nd promising to amend her sinful life. Never had 1 witnessed a more moving scene. Seemingly certain condemnation end death, yet liberty and the hope of everlasting life; undeniable and awful gullt, with none to condemn; tempting in- trigue, &nd public stultification; vin- dictive harshness, and perfect righteous- mess; supreme holiness, united with all- g love; pure religion, and heaven- ly wisdom; assault of craft, and hate, de- feated by awaRened conscience, Never Roman general at the head of mighty legions achieved victory to compare witl that of the humble and despised Naza- vene, who hath caused his enemies to fiy before his own weapons. And so the third day in the temple closed with the seeming triumph of the Master. My comrades are almost in a state of ecstasy and have again begun to talk of an earthly kingdom for the Messiah, with ourselves as judges of the twelve tribes of Isreel. I alone am this night half despondent, for I have not for- tten the scowling face of Joseph ‘alaphas on the first day, nor the seem. ing union of the two deadly foes on the lest. The people are with the Lord, but, far mmger then they, the scribes an the Pharisees, reinforced by the politic, unbelieving Sadducees, whose very smiles &re eneers, are inst him. I cannot read the future, whatever the outcome of the swiftly moving events, the Lord will triumph. To raise men to the proud and happy standing of heavenly engels is surely a greater mission than ruling sinful creatures on the earth. VL Three days have elapsed since T last wrote in this scroll, the repository, not ®lone of the wonderful events that I have witnessed, but of my inmost thoughts, feelings and aspirations, as well. My father, my wife, and infant child are in the. city, at the house of Joel. I have spent much time with them, recounting &t large my wonderful story. Yet the nearest and dearest of earthly relatives— father, wife and child—are seldom in my thoughts, so intense is my love for the Master, so overshadowing the divine my: tery now being enacted at Jerusalem, a mystery which, llke the vision that mine eyes encountered when moving up the great road from Kerioth toward the kingdom of power, seems destined to culminate in the tragedy of the universe. For two days the ter continued geaching in the temple proclaiming the ecessity of retgenmnce and trust in God. s enemies, the Pharisees and the arro- t rulers of the temple, nc more mo- teq, neither further sought to entrap y crafty questions. My compan- ere jubi! t, seeing in this nment of ail opposition, the nning of the Lord's final triumph. oroughly understanding the ambitious he ex-high donment that his disciples will be sorely perse- cuted. He also foretold that wars, fam- ines, earthquakes and devouring pestil- ences will descend upon the land; that the temple will be utterly destroyed and the people of Israel scattered abroad. When these things are passed he is to come again in great glory, issuing out of the clouds, and will gather together all that are worthy in the whole earth. Then will the kingdom of heaven be fully established. Upon his commi. as the Son of God, a veritable king then, he will pass judgment upon all mankind. The rule that is to prevall in this judgment he declared unto us. He will separate mankind into two bod- les, placing the one on his right hand and the other on his left. To those on his right hand he will say: “‘Come, ye blessed of my Father, Inherit the kingdom prepared for you before the world was made; for I hungry and ye gave me to eat; I was thirsty and ye gave me to drink; 1 was a stranger and ve took me in; 1 was sick and ye visited was in prison and ye came untu And when those on his right hand, not comprehending the meaning of these words, and modestly disclaiming such benevolent and righteous actions toward the Son of God, shall ask him when they did these things unto him he shall an- swer: “‘Inasmuch as ye have done it unto the least of these my brethren ye have done, it unto me.” In like manner will he speak to those on his left hand, biddirg them depart trom his sight into a state of torment, because they haye not done these things unto the least of his brethren, and hence have not done them unto him. Thus the conduct of men toward the disciples and followers of the Lord is to be made the criterion for determining their condition In the life to come. But it hath, I think, 8 much broader mean- ing, since he recognizeg all men as his brethren. Viewed in this light, it is a declaration in favor of the universal brotherhood of man. As we do good or evil to others in this life, so will it be done unto us in the life to come. Man wes made in the image of God, and if we fail to love and minister unto the image of the Most High he will fail to minister unto us, and_we will lose our place in the kingdom of heaven. Remember this, ye who have power to bless, and curse not; forget it not, ye Who have power tc do good unto others, end render them not evil, for, as the Master hath often said, A ye measure ;:‘llo"otherl, s0 shall it be measured unto VIL I write this In a_chamber in the houss of the high priest. Himseif and his father- in-law are at a secret meeting of the San- bedrim I am told by Andrew, and I must await their appearance. . To-day, being the fourteenth of Nisan, the Lord instructed me, together with Bi- mon Peter, to go into the city and make preparations for us to eat the Passover @t the house of Joseph of Arimathea, a member of the Sanhedrim and a secret disciple of his. Having purchased a fine lamb, we re- paired to the Temple that it might be Elain by the priests and the blood and fat dedicated to the Most High. As we were hurrying to the house of Joseph, bearing the carcass wrapped in the skin, 1 was accosted by Andrew the tailor, who, with- out attracting the attention of my com- panion, informed me that I must present myself at the house of the high priest 2bout the third hour of the night. » I well knew that this referred to my promise, and a’ weight seemed added to my aiready heavy heart, though not for a moment did 1 think of breaking it, since the all-knowing Master had in' no wise elluded to the matter, and hence doubt- less approved of my course. We found that Josepn nad provided a most liberal store of unleavened bread, bitter herbs and wine. Leaving the lamb to be dressed and cooked, we returned in baste to Bethany. As soon as the sun was fairly set and the sounding of the trumpets from the Temple-hill announced that the fifteenth of Nisan had legally begun, we all set out in & body for the Holy City. Arriving at the house of Joseph, we were at once shown to the chamber set apart for us, where we found all things in readiness. Twere vain to describe in detail the eating of the Passover, with which all Jews are familiar, nor am I in a frame of mind to undertake such a task. As I studied the face of the Master, who re- clined upon the central cushipn, between Peter and John, I noted, amid lines of sorrow and distress, an expression of sat- isfaction and pleasure which was height- ened as he raised himself and looked in succession upon each of his disciples. * “With yearning,” said he, “have I de- sired to eat this Passover with you; for I say unto you that 1 shail not eat it again until it Is perfected in the Kingdom of Heaven.” With this he stretched forth his hand and lifted from the low table a huge cup, filled with three parts of rich, I'd wine and one of water. “Praised be thou, Lord our God, thou King of the world, thou that created the fruit of the vine.” When he had pronounced this time-hon- ored blessing of the first cup, he drank of it himseif and raised it aloft as a well- understood sign of the entire unity and fraternity of the assembled company. Then, as he passed it into the hands of John, who was reciining on his right, he “Take it and divide it among you, for I say unto you that I will no more here- after drink of the fruit of the vine till I drink it new with you in the Kingdom of my Father.” How my heart swelled at these words, for was 1 not surely included with the others? Tasted ever mortal such a daught? After I had drank what.I judged to be my portion, I spilled a little upon the ground, after the manner of the Greeks, as a liba- tion to the divine Master, with whom I am to drink new wine in his Father's glo- rious kingdom. Then the bitter herbs were eaten, th Lord broke and blessed the thin cakes of unieavened bread, emblems of the hasty departure of the Jews from Egypt, and the paschal meal was formally begun. With loving kindness, the Master dipped small portions of bread and herbs into the sweet red batter that garnished the dish common to all, and handed them to one 204 another of the company, omitting As the meal drew toward the end, the Lord, looking about upon the company, said impressively: “‘Verily, verily, I say unto you, that one of you shall betray me, but woe unto that man by whom I am betrayed.” Surprise and suppressed excitement was manifest on every face. though to a less marked extent than might well have been expected. That the Lord used the words as indicating treachery was evidently out of the guestion, since we were all his de- voted, nay, his seif-chosen friends and disciples, unto each of whom he had given the power of working miracles and com- to preach his gospel. Many among the twelve exchanged quick glances, the meaning of which I readily understood, for scarce one of the num- ber but had expressed to me the firm:at bellef in the establishment of an earthly kingdom by the Messiah, and longed for him to make a great and sudden showing of his power, hat this feeling had not departed frcm their hearts was manifest to me from the exn=ctant rather than grieved man~e~ - hich many of them asked, “Lord, is it 17" At tho saw Peter make a sign to John. who had drawn himself for- ward somewhat, and was evidently about to lay his head upon the Lord's breast. I understood the sign as readily as though it had taken the form of words in nlain Chaldee. A moment Jater John whispered softly to the Master, who, after replying, dipped 2 morsel of bread in the batlter courteously handed it to me. As I bowed and smiled my thanks I saw the eyes of both Peter and John earnestiy fixed upon me, and instantly knew that by the proffered sop I had been designated as the appointed one. As 1 willingly, gladlys ate the morsel of bread, the Master. gently disengaging himself from the embrace of John, rose to his feet and, taking a long towel, gird- ed it about his loins. Then he poured wa- ter from a pitcher into a silver basin and began washing our feet, wipmsg them with the towel. When he reached Simon Peter, the latter objected, as I had felt inclincd tel gn. knowing my unworthiness, and my feet." " replled the Mas- ter wig}n a sad smile, “thou hast no part in me. “Not my feet, Lord,” cried Simon, an al- most_heavenly light beaming In his rug- face, “but 2lso my hands and my ‘When the Master had washed the feet of all the twelve, he said: “Ye are they that have continued with me in my temptations, and I appoint unto you a kingdom., as my Father hath ap- xointed unto me, that ye may eat and rink at my table in my igdom, and sit txm flir’?nn. judging the twelve tribes of To the repeated promises of a throne, a proffered seat at the table of the Lord in the Kingdom of Heaven hath been added. Can I justly be accused of vanity when I confess that my heart swelled with joy and gflds at these gracious words, the absolute seal of mine own sal- vation? “Simon, Simon,” said the Master, look- ing solemnly, almost tearfully upon the son of Jona, “‘behold, S8atan hath desired to have thee, that he may sift .thee as wheat, but I have prayed for thee thut thy faith fail not; and when thou art con verted, strengthen thy brethren.” Stmon, who had risen to his feet, started back in consternation. “Lord,” he cried, “I am ready to go with thee, both into prisor and to death. “1 tell thee, Peter, the cock shall not crow this day before that thou shalt thrice deny that thou knowest me.’ My heart bled for the poor fisherman as 1 saw the look of anguish that these words brought into his face. They cost me also a littie pain on my own account, lest I fail in the awful duty that Provi- dence hath thrust upon me. After speaking to us for some time in a most familiar, comforting manner, the Lord broke into small fragments'a loaf, laying the pieces upon another thin disk of the unleavened bread. It is custom- ary thus to end the eating of the Pass- over with a final morsel proffered by the head of the household, but something new, wondrous and_altogether unexpect- ed was at hand. Raising the thin loaf with the broken fragments upon it. he id, proffering the bread first to Peter and afterward to us all in turn: ““Take, eat; this is my body which is given for you; this do in remembrance of me."” Before we had recovered from our as- tonishment he filled a large cup with un- mixed wine, and, elevating it with his right band above the level of his head, sald, in tones of most impressive earnest- n “Drink ye all of this, for this is my blood of the Covenant waich is shed for you; this do, as often as ye drink, in re- membrance of m What care 1 for .earthly woes? Can any blessing, any gocd gift, remain for me below the skies? 1 have eaten of the body, drank of the blood of the Lord, or of that which he harh given us to represent them. Now do I indeed par- take of his nature, now I am cleansed from unrighteousness. Of all to be born hereafter to whom this great command shall come, who will dare, or care, to eat or drink except in remembrance of Christ Jesus, the divinely begotten Son and first and only true cxpounder unto eternal God A new sacrament hath been ordained, yet the law and the customs of our fathers are not to be forgotten, for the Master began a song of praise, the sec- ond portion of Hallel, all standing and taking part, as is ever done at the con- clusion of the Passover. Then we all departed, the Lord having 'announced that he went to the Mount of Olives for rayer. As we neared the Kidron brook e turned and said to me: “What thou doest, Judas, do quickly.” With this I departed from the company and came hither to the house of Joseph Calaphas. Hapg}' be tha eleven, for unto my lot hath fallen a heavy task. VIIL It is midnight. From tha window I-can see the torches and lanterns of the watchers of the temple, who are throw- ing open the doors for the beginning of the great day of feast, while from the streets come sounds of singing, mingled with glad shouts and blasts of horns and trumpets. Forgetful, or at least unmind- ful of their present subject condition, the people rejoice in memory of the deliver- ance of thir forefathers from their hard taskmasters in Egypt. The minds of un- thinking men dwell most in the past, less in the future, and least of all in the liv- ing, all-important present. It {8 meet that Jews should rejoice in commemora- tion of the mighty works that the Most High wrought in Egypt by the hand of Moses, fifteen centuries ago; yet this night, in the Holy City of Jerusalem, is he pilanning, by the hands of his Son, a far mightier work; deliverance for all mankind from the most cruel of taskmas- ters, Sin; redemption from that spirltual death that entered into the world with the fall of our first parents. Briefly and most unworthily I have brought my now sad narrative down to the present moment, and have naught of yalue to add thereto; yet I cannot re- frain from writing. The hour grows late; Annas must have found his fellows in the Sanhedrim less tractable than he thought, or, what is more probable, is plotting with them some deep scheme of villainy. Yet am I not afraid; .all- powerful,” if he sees fit to exercise the Bifts that his Father hath conferred upon him, the Master can thwart his wicked designs and cause his evil schemes to re- dound to the glory of God and the enlight- enment and uplifting of mankind. The course of natural events was fixed, to the smallest detail, before the foundations of the earth were laid, and I could not, if [ would, aiter one of them to the least tit- tie, any more than I can make one of the hairs of my head white or black. My task is a heavy one, vet I feel that It Is part and parcel of God's plan; that It will pro- vide the means for completing the Lord's great work. And vet a strange unrest pervades my mind, a heavy welght seems pressing upon m{ heart. As on the eventful day when I left my fond old father on the great road at Kerioth, only clearer, stronger, more terrible, a vision rises athwart mine eyes; strange sounds and awful Impressions &eégm (o smite upon mine ears. 1 cannot In words clearly describe what I see and hear, for language hath its limits, yet I cannot choose but write. Am I losing my judgment, or is this a temptation of the devil? Strengthen me, O Lord, be with me, Divine Spirit that animates’ the Ih,fla:ler_ for never so needed I strength as A fearful shape. an Indescribabie Pres- ence, rises before me. It possesses not }\he form or semblance of man; it hath either mouth nor nostrils. yet 1 feel its hot breath upon my cold and creeping flesh; hath no eyes, yet Is looking into my very soul; hath not hands, yet is about to strike.me to the ground. Not a_sound stirs the still, oppressive air, yet I hear, or see, or feel—at least I know—the awfui words that slowly, from it. “Poor, blind, misguided fool, that but now wrote a query touching the devil; know that thou art to become, in the es- timation of mankind, his vounger brother. Thou art, as that false usurer predicted in Rome, to live In the memories of men un- Ll the end of time, but thy memory is to be, not a blessing, but a curse, not an ex- ample to be emulated but ‘a warning, a thing to be reprobated and abhorred. With Batan and Ahriman shalt thou divide the execrations of mankind. Of all born of woman thou art to be the most detested. Thy name shall become the one just syn- onym of the personification of treachery, baseness and greed. Well were it for thee had’st thou never been born.” ““Who, and what art thou?" “I am the shadow of the future, cast backward for thine enlightenment; the voice of those vet unborn, speaking of things that are fo be.” “Am I then become 80 utterly debased?" »*Who spoke of baseness? My words are tife words of sober truths, not mad fancies and vain imaginings. A place among the damned were clearly preferable to thy memory among men, hou and thine ac- cursed, blood-bought thirty pleces of sil- ver, will cause vile thieves to blush, re- morseless murderers to quake, unt{l the end of time. In the bright future, whence I am come to this benighted day, thy name is an antonym for that of thy divine Master.” “Then I am to become a victim of un- deserved reproach?” ‘“Who can escape it and remain the In- strument for the accomplishment of great things? If thou would’st preserve th, name unsullfed or, what amounts to mucg the same thing, cause thy name to be for- gotten, flee from this place!" ‘‘Preserve my name unsullied! Where?" “On earth; in the memories of men." “And what of heaven?’ “That 1 khow not of; the earth is m domain. Thou art warned, and my tu{ is done. Retreat, and thine image will fill a niche hewn for the blessed salnts; go on- ward, and become the wilderness-wander- ing scapegoat of thy blundering, mole- eyed nation.” ‘The shape had vanished; perhaps was but a phantasm of mine own overwrought braln and excited imagination. Yet is its cuttingly, emanate mesage true; I feal it, I know it. Already are the Master’s warning words fulfilled— woe hath surely ovetaken me. Let me ponder on its most horrible predictions. My name, a name that hath not known dishonor In centuries, a synonym for treachery and greed! Can I go onward? No! 'Tis beyond reason, against all na- ure! But, through my sacrifice the nama of the Master is to {llume the world which his great doctrine; his manifestation of his Father saves from eternal death: that s as clear as that mine own is to be dis- honored. Am I not-to be with him to sit upon a judge's throne? What is falr name or glory in this world. what is this world, itself, compared with his presence and ap- proving smile? Besides, the phantom snoke of things that are, not things that mav be. The de- crees of God are eternal, Immutable, and my course Is fixed beyvond my ability to change it. The Scripture must be fulfiiled and hath not this been foretold, or at least foreshadowed? What saith David. ‘‘Mine THE SUNDAY CAL own familiar friend in whom I trusted, which did eat of my bread, hath lifted up his heel against me.” I am surely his familiar friend, and this night ate I not of his bread? Since, then, both the past and future unite in proclaiming, the one that it must be, the other that it hath®been; since the Master will thus complete his work, shed- ding his blood for the new covenant; since he, knowing all things, hath sald unto me: “What thou doest, do quickly,” I will still f{o onward, seeking my reward in the ingdom of Heaven, and leaVInf my pame to be reviled and spit upon [n the earth—to become an Azazel for the dis- honor of my people, who have refused to receive the Son of God as their Messlah. BOOK VIIL THE RESURRECTION AND THE LIFE. % 1 was still bowed down by my heavy weight of woe, still trembling from the effects of the dreadful revelation of the shame and dishonor that are to attach to my name among men, and had scarce- ly resolved to do what 1 belleved to be my duty, irrespective of earthly consequences, when the door opencd and Andrew entered the room. He bade me follow him with all speed, and, waiting only to secure my scroll, pen and inkhorn, I obeyed. In the large courtyvard 1 encountered a crowd of people, numbering, I rnuq}_’lly estimated, at least a hundred souls. The company was a motley one, being made up of priests, scribes, doctors, servants of the high priest, agents of the Sanhedrim and watchmen and guards from the tem- ple. They were mixed together in an in- discriminate manrer, though some were evidently busy bringing order out of the confusion. 1 was at once approached by Annas, Calaphas and other leading men, who drew me aside. “‘All is ready,” sald the high priest. “Thou must now guide the officers to the place where thy Master may be appre- hended. And, mind thee, no treachery, on peril of instant death. Though the hour is late, many people are vet in the streets and some of them are doubtless hot-headed enough to take his part. Pilate is here from Cesarea for the one purpose of preserving order, and a riot would call down upon us all the Roman soldlers in the, castle of ‘Antonia.” “It was for that reason' suggested Rabbi Samuel, who was of the party, “that ‘T advised sending to Pilate for a guard to protect us against a rescue by the rabble. 'Tis well to have the enemy on our side.”” . “Pilate assist us in arresting a blas- phemer!” broke in Annas impatiently. “He would laugh at such a proposal. Be- sides, we have naught to fear. I will answer for the fidelity of Judas.” As he spoke he plucked me by the sleeve. drawing me a little aside, and con- tinued, whispering: “Fear not, thy Master shall be treated fairly and given ample opportunity to de- fend himself. yea, to convince us that he is the Messiah he claims to be. Accept the money 'that the high priest is about to offer thee; I know that thou covetest it not, yet it is not well that all of these should know of our compact, or thy real reasons for delivering up him that thou lovest.” With this he cast upon me a glance, which, even in the red, uncertain light of the flaring torches, told be that he looked deeper into my soul than I had thought possible. Turning, I saw Caiaphas in the act of pouring the contents of a small purse into his hand. - ‘““Here are thirty shekels of silver,” said he, ‘“and recognition and advancement shall be added to them. I drew them from the Temple treasury for thy use.” ““Thine accursed, blood-bought jeces of silver will cause vile thieves to Jush and remorseless murderers to trem- ble until the end of time."” These words, in the slow, scornful tones of the hideous Phantom, seemed to min- gle with those of the high priest, as though they, likewise, proceeded from his haughty, sneering lips. 1 was unable to speak, so overwhelming were my emo- tions, and was. about to raise my hand in mute surprise, when I remembered the words of Zachariah the Phophet: “So they weighed me for my price, ~thirty pleces of stlver.” The decrees of Provi- dence, yea. of God, are certain- of fulfill- ment and I was clearly the instrument. The prophetic thirty pieces of silver had been offered to me and I could not refuse them, revolting as was the idea of accept- ing a price for pointing out my Lord and Master. According]y I stretched forth my hand and rececived the money. Yet did not 1 place it in the common purse which 1 carried, but dropped it into a recess of my mantle, All was now in readiness and the expedi- tion at once set out. Some .of the temple guards and watchmen, who numbered about two score, were provided with swords, the remainder, together with most of the company, belng armed only witn stout staves. everal scribes and a few members of the Sanhedrim accompanied the party. The'management of the affair was entrusted to one of the latter, under whose directions I was placed. We started with a number of lighted torches and lanterns, but when we reached the Kidron brook, these were ex- tinguished by the order of the rabbi in. charge, who seemed fearful of alarming his devoted victim. Besides, the moon was near the full and we might sately and certainly proceed without them. Torn by flercely contending emotions, al- térnately depressed and exalted in spirit, I led the way rapidly up the Mount of Olives, that 1 might prevent myseif from contemplating the awful yet unavoidable step I was about to take. [ well knew that I would find the Master In the gar- den of Lazarus, called Gethsemane, and haited when we drew near the spot. “Here he is,” said I, pointing to the enclosure. ‘‘How many are with him?” asked the rabbl. “Eleven,"] replied. With this the Jeader turned and made & signal with his hands. An instant later I heard the clinking of iron and torches were soon lighting up the somber scene. “Go forward and point him out,” whis- pered the rabbi, ‘““we wish to take none but him.” ‘We had now reached the wide door of the garden, which was open and I saw the Master, standing erect and surround- ed- by the eleven, who seemed overcome with terror. It were easy to have pointed him out’ from where I stood, yet at that moment it flashed upon me, not as a result of rea- soning, but rather of intultion, or per- chance of the moving within me of a higher power. that my impending actlon was destined to mark an epoch in the history and redemption of mankind. Am- bition” and self-Jove are surely not dead within me, for there entered into my soul an ardent desire to be known as the one whose action had made the Lord’s tri- umph possible. 1 forgot, for the moment, the awful fate that the warning Presence had predicted for my name, and sald to the leader of the expedition, who stood be- side me: h"The one that I shall kiss, the same is e.” ¥ With this I entered the garden. Passin through the trembling disciples, 1 salute ktl‘l"e Master, as was my wont, and kissed m. “‘Friend, wherefore art thou come?"’ Never before had the Lord addressed me as friend, and the term fairly startled me, until 1 remembered the words of David, which I have already quoted: “Mine own familiar friend, in whom I trusted, which did eat of my' bread, hath lifted up his heel against me.” Beyond a doubt he em- ployed the word friend to indicate that the Scriptures had been fulfilled. t this moment, the officers and others, still led by the rabbi, entered the garden. Seeing them, Simon Peter and another disciple drew and began to flourish swords, one of which struck and cut away a portion of the ear of a servant of Caiaphas, Malchus by name. i “Put up thy sword again in its place. sald the Master, to all outward appear- ances as calm as when I had first heard him speak from Peter's boat on Lake Galllee; “for all that take the sword shall erfsh by the sword. Thinkest thou that Peeantiot now pray unto my Father and he shall presently give me more than twelve legions of angels? But how then shall the Scriptures be fulfilled, that thus it must b The lofty, commanding bearing of the Lord as he addressed these Impressive words to Simon Peter seemed to overawe the company, from the rabbi who com- manded to the servants that carried the torches, but no sooner had he ceased speaking than they recovered from their consternation and advanced to selze him. - As many willing, eager hands descended upon him, he turned unto them and sald, in most cutting tones: “‘Are ye come to seize me with swords and staves as against a thief and rob- ber? I sat dally In the temple teachink. and ye did not seize me. But it is in or- der that the Scriptures might be ful- filled The Master once secura, though he was not bound, the officers turned toward those who had been Inthe garden with him, nqt indeed that they sought to ap- hend them, for they were instructed o take the Lord only, tut doubtless be- cause they feared an attempt at a res- cue. . How baseless this fear was demon- strated in a moment; without a word, thirty " JEN without so much a glance at the now captive Lord, they all turned and fled precipitately from the place. As the white face of Simon disappeared I thought of his boasttul words: “Lord, 1 am ready to go with thee, both into grlltm and unto death.” Of a verity, the esh is weak. My part in this trying sceme accom- Dlllged,- I also left the girden of Geth- semane, hastening down the slope of Mount Olivet to the house of the high grlest. whither the Master s certain to e brought, and where I have hurriedly written these lines. While prociaiming his power to call myriads of armed, in- vineible angels to his assistance. the Lord hath suffered a_handful of men to take him captive, and this, avowedly, that the Scriptures might be fulfiled. What a defense for me, who acted the part I did for the same reason! Clearly his king- Gom is not of this world. 1L As I lay upon the ground near a fire that some of the servants had kindled, it belng now about tne ninth hour of the night and the air cool, 1 saw John, the sun of Zebedee, enter the courtyard. He looked nervously, anxiously about him, as if searching for wme une, but, quite fortunateiy, his eyes wd not chance to fall upon me. I marveled somewhat at his appearance so soon after he had fled in dismay from the garuen where the Lord was arrested; but ihis gpeedily pass- ed when I remembered his impetuous dis- osition and the circumstance that he had ong been personally known to the high priest. While I studied his sad, troubled, face a servant approached and spoke to him, and he waixed guickly to the en- trance of the courtyard, which was closed with double doors. After parieying for some time with a woman who acted as guard, he passed out, but scon returned, accompanied by Simon Barjona, the two going at once to the fire Socn the woman, who, doubt, had admitied Peter at of John, approached the fire, a look of suspicion upon her eyed the two discipies. who themselves upen the ground. she spoke, aadressing Ter: “Thou wert surely with him when they went forth. 10 take.” 3 woman," know him not. Wwas marveling at these mest extraer- dinary actions—one exerting his utmost wits to seek an entrance to a place of danger and then immediately denying his identity—when one of the temp.e guards approched and made the same remark. Wwhich the accused arswered with an em- phatic negative. 1 was still reflecting upon this strange apomaly of human na- ture, when a sudden noise from without £mote upon mine ears. This momentari- ly increased 'in volume, the sound of many mingled voices, with an occasional shout, being audible. Soon the doors were thrown open, and the party that had accompanied ‘me up the Mount of Olives poured into the wide courtyard. In the midst of them walked the Mas- 1 could not the request There was face ag she had seated At length replied Peter, ter. There was an expression of calm, a:most superhuman dignity upon his spiritual face, which seemed heightened rather than diminished by the jeers of the crowd and the gyves upon his wrists. Suddenly his eyes fell upon Peter and John, who had risen to ther feet, but without the slightest sign of recognition he Jooked quickly in another directicn. Evidently he had no mind to imperil the safety of any of his disciples. ° . Scarcely had the Lord. In the custody of two agents of the Sanhedrim and pre- ceded by a number of rabbins and men of note. passed into the house, when An- nas entered the courtyard. There was a worrled, almost haggard expression upon the old man’s face. Evidently he real- ized that the most scrious crisis of his long and eventful life was close at hand. ! I‘hou"hasl kept thy word, Judas of Kerioth,” said he, when, in obedience to a commanding gesture, 1 had approached him. “'Tis meet that thou should’'st now come and see how I keep mine. Calaphas is president of the Sanhedrim, but he will act in all regards after my directions. Follow me and learn that thou, perhaps, hast suffered thyself to be deceived.” I obeyed the mandate and soon found myself in the audience chamber whers I had first met Annas and Calaphas. The room was filled, but the Master was not present. Upon 'the floor, arranged in a semi-circular form, were a large number of cushions, such as are used at feasts, many of which were already occupled by members of the great Jewlsh council, though scarcely more than the required three and twenty were present. At each end stood a_scribe with a scroll, pen and inkhorn. These were the. clerks of ac- quittal and condemnation. Motioning me to a place in the rear of the apartment, where a number of interested, excited persons were standing. the priest ad- vanced and seated himself beside his son- in-law, who occupied the central cushion. The hearing about to begin appeared to me clearly unlawful, since. according to immemorial usage, such must be held, not in the night scason, but in the day, be- tween the hours'of the morning and even- ing sacrifice. This nocturnal trial indi- cated also both secrecy and impatience. There was ample time in store to proceed in the broad. bright day. before the full tribunal of the Seventy, the successors of the Seventy E'ders of Moses, in their own proper place in the Temple; if then the darkness of night were chosen, a bare quorum summoned and the meeting held in a chamber in the palace of Caiaphas, dark and pressing reasons must have in- fluenced Annas. the real directing mind of the whole assembly. 1 had little time to consider these grave matters or to determine how far they made against the rights and safety of the Master, when Calaphas called for or- der and announced that the extraordinary sitting of the Sanhedrim had formally be: gun. A moment later a door was thrown opén, and the Lord, still bound at the wrists,. was brought in by four officers of the temple guard and stationed within the half circle of white-turbaned judges, directly before Caiaphas, the high priest and president of the most august court. ““Jesus of Nazareth, son of Joseph ben began the high priest impressively, though with something of a sneer in his hard voice, “thou art accused of blas- phemy and with seducing the people by false teaching. What hast thou to say?”’ For the first time since his entrance the Master lifted his sorrowful but still luminous and piercing eves and_ fixed them upon the great ruler of the Jewish eople. Then he looked searchingly about im from left to right, after which he turned and closely scrutinized the portion of the room that’lay behind him. This done, he resumed his former position and fixed his calm. dignified, reproachful eyes again upon the high priest. Not one among the judges and specta- tors but well understood the meaning of this. Cafaphas, who had answered the first look with a steady stare, dropped his head now and changed his position upon his cushion. In a moment, however, he logked up and said, harshly: ““Thou need’st not look for thine aceus- ers; thine own words and actions shall be called to testify against thee. Neither seek to find any here to speak for thee. Thou canst not overawe the Sanhedrim of Jerusalem as thou did'st the foolish Pharisees- in the Temple, by writing in the dust. Thou must speak for thyself. What say’'st thou?" But the Master answered nothing: neither did he once remove his eves from the face of the hl'gh priest. 'The noc- turnal trial was early bearing fruits meet for the darkness that surrounded it. There was no one present to counsel the accused and po witnesses had been sum- moned to teltify for him, though such are usually given the preference over those that appear to prosecute. It was already apparent that a convictlon had been decided upon in advance of all pro- ceedings. “Let the wlitnesses be called,”” com- manded Cafaphas, after a brief consulta- tion with Annas. Eneid leads to quick conclusions, yet it hath its drawbacks and often brings fail- ure and dlsaster in its wake. The inde- cent haste, with its utter disregard of precedents, that had attended the ar- ralgnment of the Lord, reacted upon the conspirators. They had an abundant store of witnesses. quite ready to testify false- ly. but badly informed as to what was required of them, in consequence of which they so contradicted themselves and each other as to render their statements of small force, even to a court that was Eon anxlous to find grounds for convict- fhld expected to see all the witnesses admitted In a body, that each’ might hear and be prompted and guided by the state- ments of all that rreceded them. This would have been clearly fllegal, but le- gality I felt to be a matter of small con- cern to Annas and Caiaphas, so tjat ab- solute scandal was avoided. T sur- grlled, therefore, when the witnesses were rought in one by one, beginning, as was the custom. with the eldest. 'Twere long to describe in detafl the evidence produced. Naught was sald against the Master as a worker of mir- acles, nor was his bold action_ in cleans- ing the Temple referred to. I marveled somewhat at this, but upon reflection the reason became apparent. Many of his wonderful works have been witnessed by s0 many people and are so well attested that it would have been unwise, if not dangerous, to attempt to deny or show have been spurious. The prose- eTon was confined o efforts to estab- lish blasphemous utterances and false #eachings on the part of the prisoner. iany testified on these points, but r:o two agreed as to any one case, while xe\ many Instances the siatements made lvre‘\; manifestly faise. At length some O ! ; members of the court began to smile nnd It looked as though the case was dom;‘xe( to failure through the lack of proper ke nesse: At sight of this the 'fln_kles On Annas’ face deepened into & heavy frow and he hurriedly left the chamber, ru‘um- Ing after a brief absence. Shortly a ‘el ward two witnesses were introduced In succession who made the same statement, and in exactly the same words. wmcg fmnly told the errand that had cnu?;h *I heard this fellow say. ‘I am able to destroy the Temple of God, and to bulld it up again in three days.’ "' When these two had thus testifled ma.nz of the judges nodded and exchange smiles of Elenmn, though I noticed that some shook their heads and made no sign of approval. After this there was an in- terval of silence; apparently there were no more witnesses at hand. At that mo- ment Annas attracted the attention of his son-in-law by plucking at his fine priestly robe, and whispered somethmg in his ear, With this Calaphas arose to his feet and said, sternly, confronting the Master: “Hear'st not what these witness against thee? Answerest thou nothing to these words?"” The Lord returned his look unflinching- ly, but arswered not a word. I saw that l%e resources of his enemies were now ex- hausted and that nothing remained but the hope of extorting from him a confes- sion, or that which could be distorted into such. With an expression of mingled rage and chagrin upon his almost ashen face. the high priest stoopéd down and held a whispered conversation with Annas. I quite understood the situation: their case was closed and naught remained but to collct and announce the votes, the result of which might well be a matter of con‘i jecture. Again the high priest confronte the Lord and said, speaking most impres- sively: “I adjure thee by the living God, that thou (eIl ns wihether thou e the Christ. the Son of God!"” I trambled at this question, not because T dopbted. but because I well knew what the result would be. He who had come into the world to make manifest his Father, wouid not, could not, even by mere silence, deny his divine relationship and high calling. Such a course woul have been in entire conflict with his ex- alted mission and beneath his digrity as a man. ““Thou hast said it,” he replied as calm- 1y as though watching the drifting clouds for the signs of the times at the feast of the Tabernacles. ‘Nevertheless, 1 say unto you, hereafter shall ye see the .Son of Man sitting on’the right hand of power, and coming in the clouds of heaven.” It was said! He who had ever forbidden all vain swearing, had himself taken the most solemn oath known to the Jewish- eople; had sworn by the living God that e was the Chgjst, the Son of God. My heart seemed Dursting as 1 heard his words of assent, yet not for the wealth of the world, not to save mine own life, would I have had it otherwise. Now was the Master indeed more than human. ““Skin for skin,” sald Satan unto-the Lord, “vea, all that'a man hath will he give for his life,” but this man scorned to preserve his life by parting with the smallest por- tion of his manhood; refused to_live by keeping silence where he feit it his duty to speak. What a lesson for the genera- tions to come. The divinely bestowed in- tegrity of a pure and noble soul ls better worth preserving than the life that his mother gave him. I had expected mighty things of the Lord when brought face to face with his judges and accusers, but naught like this. Divinity had spoken in tones louder than the thunder-blast that rives and scatters abroad the gnarled and twisted oak: it the scoffing Sadducees heard and heeded it not, they surely would not believe though one rose from the dead. The proud and hgughty Calaphas start- ed, fairly staggered, backward and fell rather than seated himself upon the lux- urious cushion. In all that semi-circie, wherein sat the custodians of life and death, there was not a face but blanched, not an eye but fell. Surely, I thought, the Lord hath won the victory. He had indeed won, not as I at first thought, a victory over the Sanhedrim of Israel, but over the flesh, the world and the devil. 1In opposition to all earthly self-interest, in the face of power, whose weapons were death, he had uttered words that will be treasured, and repeat- ed, and revered until the end of time. As though my soul had been {llumined with a sudden flash, such as swept through the universe when God said, “Let there be light,” T comprehended the Master's plan for saving the world—he would die for it. For a moment Annas sat as one stu fled. He had doubtless expected an affir- mative answer to his question, but hardly the explanation that accompanfed it. In the mouth of the Master, the skillfully blended words of David and Danlel pos- sessed a force which the emphasis of voice, face and gesture rendered well-nigh irresistible. But the words bad not con- vinced Caiaphas; instead they had fairly overwhelmed him with the audacity of the picture they presented. The humble Na- zarene, the bound captive, representing himself as soaring upward to the throne of God and thence returning cloud-borne to the conquest of the earth—'twas too much for thé religious and civil chief of the Jewish people, who sprang excitedly, almost madly, to his feet.. With the looks and manner of a man whose reason had suddenly departed, he seized with his hands and began rending in pleces his magnificent robe of office, a robe which the Romans keep in custody and deliver up only seven days before each of the three great feasts and the day of Atonement. The strongly woven, heavily embroidered linen yielded Ilke cobwebs in his maddened clutch and was soontreduced to scattered and flying frag- ments. “‘He hath spoken bl hemy,” shouted Calaphas, as he threw the last fragment from him to emphasize his abhorrence of the awful words the Master had uttered. “What further need have we of wit- nesses? *Behold, now ye have heard the blasphemy. What think ve?” The dramatic action of the high pries the rending of his garments on account of keen sorrow and deep religious indigna- tion, as provided for in the Scriptures, ‘wrought powerfully upon the judges, ane to the sharp questlon, “What think ye?” there could be but one answer. None rent their garments, after the example of the hlbg‘h priest, but all replied, as In one voice: “He is gullty of death!"” ‘Without formally taking the votes of the Sanhedrim, Cpiaphas declared the session at an end, having first announced that full meeting would be held in the Temple on the first hour of the day. Then fol- lowed a scene which showed at once the bitterness and littieness of human nature. Grave rabbins mixed with rds and servants in their eagerness to insults and reproaches upon the defenseless, un- complaining prisoner. Well-nigh bereft of reason l.fl:uw! by the outrageous scene; uni ul of consequences and the utter futility of mine interference, I was about to rush to the assistance of the insulted Lord, when he cast upon me a warning, restraining glance, that restored me to the possession of my senses and rooted me to the floor. - Bent on reducing to writing some ac- count of the remarkable trial, that wili, 1 bglieve, become a portion of the world's most momentous history, the courtyard below. ine and strong drink had evidently circulated freely dur- ing my absence, for most of the numerous company were intoxicated. I looked eag- erly around in search of famillar faces. John was not in sight, but Simon Peter still sat moodily before the now smol- de[rl}rlxgde;nbex;: of thel flr;. ad barely completed my survey, and ‘was noting J;e first flushes of the dawn In the eastern sky, when a number of roisterers approached the fire to throw wood upon the embers. The foremost of these, a servant of Caiaphas, who had been of the company that arrested the Master, paused with uplifted fagof in his hands anqr 11301‘(“1’1 leflr(:hlng} huphon‘:gtgn 3 ““This fellow was with the false het whom we took,"” said he. Lo "1 was not,” answered the frightened apostle. answered the servant fl"'l'h]ou lllest!" Aoy ercely, “I saw thee In the de) him. 'Twds thou that m{k‘r ofln ;lllll: chus’ ear. Besides thy speech betrayeth thee as a Gallleean dog.” “1 know not the man,” cried Peter ve- hemently, “I swear it by all the holy Prophets! ith a still more wicked curse, the ser- vant threw the fagot upon the fire and it must have sounded announcing the near presence eard it also, and to his ears it B Tike a peal of thunder = of :.n okt- Deity. For a moment he sat rock- frex:d;?mnuyn if suffering sorest pain; then he sprang to his feet, and, with tears trickling down his bronzed face and griz- zled beard. ran quickly to the door, through which he disappeared from view. The conversion for which the Master hath been praying, even amid his own trials and miseries, hath surely been wrought: tears of repentance have mads Peter the first disciple of the new cove- nant. The blood of the Lord hath been b;;:ied and sanctified even before it is sl L 1 repaired again to the temple befors day bad broken upon the city. The hour was early, unseemly almost, for a full meeting of that most august body, the Sanhedrim, yet so great was the interest, so intense the excitement that the has. tily summorfed members gathered rapidly and nearly all of the seventy were In their places when the high priest, who had just issued from the holy place, en- tered with bis father-in-law, and deciared that the session had begun. In a few sentences. speaking in a point. ed and succinct manner that suggested the directing mind of Annas, the high priest recounted the happenings at the nocturnal session, concluding with the clear and unmistakable words of the Mas- ter, which, unexplained. amounted to a confession of guilt, for, under the law, to declare one’s self the equal or the inti- mate assoclate of God is clearly blas- phemy, and punishable with death. “WWhat sayest thou to this charge? Caiaphas concluded his brief address with thess words, turning sharply. to the Master, whe; his face now wearied and careworn. his blue eyes shining with a more effuigent, heavenly light than when T had last beheld him, stood within the half circle of reclining judges. That the prisoner expected not, desired not to escape his impending doom was evident to me, for he looked calmly, though unresentingly, upon the “aughty president, and answered not. *1s Jesus ben Ell of Nazareth, subject of Herod Antipas, tetrareh of Galllee and Perea, guilty of blasphemy? How sayest thou, ‘Samuel of Kerioth?” “Guilty ! There was an expression of intense sat- isfaction upon the stern face of Rabbi Samuel, who sat on the extreme left of the president, as, in a clear, penetrating voice, he voted for the Master's condem- nation: Varfed only by the substitution of the name of a different member, this ques- tion, In the same shrill monotone, remind- ing me somewhat of John the Baptizer, was nine and sixty times repeated, Annas being the last to vote. All had declared in favor of gullt, save three, including Jo- seph of Arimathea. whose places were vacant, and Nicodemus, whose name sig- nifieth, “innocent of blood.” He sat with downcast head and made no response to the question, This Nicodemus hath feit the power of the Master's teachings and may almost be reckoned as one of his disciples, That he voted not openly for the Lord’s acquittal will not, in the fu- ture, be held a strange thing when it is repeated that eleven of the Lord's aposties fled as for their lives at the approach of his enemies, who were guided by the re- maining one. When the last member had cast his vote, the president looked inquiringly at the clerks of acquittal and condemnation. “None have spoken for him,” sald the fi rst. X * “All are against him,” added the sec- ond. “Thou, Jesus, art gulltyl” Having uttered these terrible words, Cajaphas turned his eyes from the yet uncomplaining face of the Lord, and swept them along the curved line of Judges. “What shall be done with him?" he asked. “‘Moses hath answered that.” “Let him be put to death!™ “Stone the blasphemer with stones!™ Seemingly half the members responded to the question in these and like words, many of the Pharisees, whose voices had before been low, joining now in the de- mand for blood. “His sentence Is death. which he hath richly merited,” id the president, when the clamoring voices nad died away, “yet must we proceed with caution, not forgetting that we are subject to Rome. It were surely unwise at this time to raise the question of the right of the San- hedrim to put an offender to death.. Let him be taken before Pontius Pilate and Jjudgment demanded at his hands.” In this diplomatic speech I saw clearly Annas’ master mind. Having secured the Lord’s condemnation, he pi to shift to the Romans the responsibility and stigma of its execu‘ion. The Romans know not the God of Abraham, neither recognize blasphemy of his name as a crime, hence charges of a political nature must be formulated against the Master. Leaving Annas, Calaphas and other leading men of the Sanhedrim In close and earnest consultation, I quitted the judsment hall and hurried away from the emple. " Iv. It was about the second hour when I left the temple and, going through the columns of the Zystus, my way to the upper city on the southwest of the temple hill. Passing the old royal palace f the Asmoneans, once tenanted by the ‘accabeans, where Herod Antipas lodges when In the Hoaly City, I advanced to the ) higher ground to the westward, whers stands the new and magnificent palace of Herod the Great, occupied, as I well knew, by the procurator of Judea when in the Holy City. ‘The gates were already open and, after replying to the challenge of a soldter, I passed through and entered the in- cent inclosure, the fairest spot in all rusalem. I had come in the vague hope that I might by good fortune obtain a chance to speak with Pilate, before whom the Master was soon to be arraigned. had no definite plans, or even object in this; indeed, it was but the protest of my heart nst what my mind had accepted as inevitable. But my hopes were thwarted on the instant of my arrival, for pouring th h the wide gate was an immense rabble, preceded by a band of officers and many members of the Sanhedrim, in the midst of whom, his hands bound behind him, walked the Master. Turning, I saw standing on an elevated, crescent shaped platform of inlaid stone, which commanded a wide view, the tall, Je- burly form of Pontfus Pilate, Procurator of Judea. Apprised of the e ed visit of his subjects, he had, with true Ro- man courtesy, come forth to give them audlence. While I look rectionist, Jesus Barabbas; the others his two followers, Nathan had carried Lazarus and out justice—or vengeance, as suited nis convenienca or mood. Their destination reached, the conducting party ted to the right and left, the ten:n' guards delivering their prisoner into custody of a band of Roman of 3 ves upon the steps that led up to the tribu- nal. There was ample room upon it for both the accusers and accused to be seat- ed, and In any subject country of Rom save Judea, they would have been invite: to ascend, but Pilate hates the Jews and usually treats them with scant courtesy. “What accusation bring ye l{dnst this man?"’ asked the procurator in Greel after calmly surveying the prisoner for a moment. “If he were not a malefactor,” answered Caiaphas, “‘we would not have delivered him ee. withdrew with his rollicking companions. oners & upon the - ) As 1 stood contemplating the sharp con- E him and your trast between the noble, self-condemning law.” e truth of the Master and the cowardly, _‘‘But his offense is most self-protecting falsehood of the disciple, ed the high priest, “and it is no a s! , shrill sound smote my hear- lawful for us to put any man to ith; ing ‘'ocks are exee_edlndyum in Jeru- therefore have we come to ask thee to salem, being efieflg prohibited within confirm the judgment of the Sanhedrim the walls of the Holy City, but this and execute the penalty upon him.™ wu“cnu. and n;a:‘ l((‘! hand, too, ““What hath Mdnn.mfinndd Pllate, mfiuheflmmmmu—n “We this . Jesus bem EM* ¢ o 4