V.

BEFORE this reaches you, my mother, you will have heard of my safety; which earlier knowledge you will owe to the friendship of the Greek, who, as he has said, not as I believe, simply because he had no other employment, has not ceased to devote himself to my interests. It is solely too by reason of the friendship, which so strangely and suddenly he conceived for me, that I now find myself on the way to Beth-Harem, having liberty for bonds, the vault of the heavens above me for that of Pilate's dungeon, life for death. I can never know, indeed, that Pilate would not in some other manner, though Zeno had not interposed, — have obtained a knowledge of the circumstances to which I am beholden for my liberty. Zeno himself declares that it would certainly have been so; for that the governor, seeing how many lives had been already sacrificed, and that he might be called to account for that day's confusion, would have gladly seized upon any pretext to set free his

prisoners, which yet it was by no means easy to do and preserve his own dignity and authority. However this may be, I can feel none the less my debt to the Greek, who has shown in these affairs, that however he may affect to have been moved in what he has done, by that restless temper that must be busy somewhere and about somewhat, he nevertheless possesses a heart which is not only no stranger to kind affections, but overflows with a wide and generous humanity.

My reflections, when, upon awaking out of the insensibility caused by the blows I had received, I found myself in a Roman prison, all went to convince me that I should there end my days. I had been taken in arms against the reigning power; and, though I had not been long in Cæsarea, could probably easily be proved both to be a Jew, and to have been intimate with Philip and Simon, the leaders in the affray. Add to this the circumstance, that my judge was Pilate, and you too will acknowledge, my mother, that my days must have seemed to me to be numbered. That certainly was my conviction. Yet was it not attended by any self-crimination for the part I had taken, as I doubt not you will suppose it was, or for the cause in which, as it seemed, I had offered myself up. My heart approved

what I had done. I had stood up for the injured, the oppressed, and the weak. I had shown myself to be, what I had at length found myself to be, a Jew; one who was ready not only to entertain an inward persuasion, but to carry it into outward act. Hours were days and months to me in that dark solitude, for the quickness with which truths revealed themselves to me, and struck their roots into my soul, and grew up into strength and maturity. I seemed in my forlorn and hapless state, to be myself an emblem of my country, bound hand and foot, awaiting the sentence of death at the word of a tyrannic and irresistible power. My mind reviewed with pain my long alienation from the faith and worship of my fathers. My misfortune seemed to me a just judgment upon such mad apostasy, and I thenceforward devoted myself, should my life. be spared, to the welfare of my country, by such acts as should appear to me to be most for her advantage and glory. Thy early instructions, my mother, written upon the soft heart of my youth, had then sunk deep; and now, in my silence and darkness, they revealed themselves and filled the place where I was with light. The history of our people, and of the care of Jehovah for them, of the good men and prophets who had taught and died for

them, all passed before me; and although I felt myself still to be ignorant and unbelieving in much more than I knew and believed, I discovered that I knew and believed greatly more than but a little while before I could have supposed, and enough to make me a Jew in very deed. The prayers, also, which at thy side, or else seated on thy knee, I had in my infancy been taught to say, though for many a year they had not passed my lips, now unbidden returned, and again ascended a sacrifice, for thy sake I will believe, not rejected. I put not my trust, my mother, in the righteousness of the thoughts and resolves, which perchance the solitary fears of my dungeon, and the human dread of a sudden, and it might be cruel death by the scourge or the cross, and not any love of what is good and right, may have prompted. That were a vain reliance. I dare not say as yet, that Rome and her seductions might not, were they soon to try me, easily uproot the virtue, that like a gourd has grown up in a night. May my newborn strength be spared such assault.

Thus was I, by the strange fortunes that had befallen me, again recreated a Jew. Yet was this, as I well knew, only so much a new hindrance in the way of pardon or escape. Could I with truth have declared myself a

Roman, there was not a doubt, that Pilate would, on the instant, have overlooked the natural ardor that had leagued me for the moment with the enemies of the state, seeing how I was bound to them by both the ties of friendship and of blood. As little doubt was there it seemed to me, that when he should discover, as upon examination he would, the manner in which I then stood affected both toward Rome and Judea, there would be small hope of any other event than immediate death. Day after day did I lie in my dungeon, chained to a pillar of stone, awaiting with patience, and almost more than patience through the new spirit that had taken possession of me, what should befall. No sounds disturbed the current of my thoughts, which I have now declared to you what course they took, — save the regular approach of the jailor with the portion of food which was allowed me, and the cries, as of those who suffered torture, or who lamented aloud their wretched bondage. The jailor was one who appeared native to the horrors of the place, and to be little different from the stone on which I lay, save that he possessed the power of going from place to place. I quickly learned to refrain from seeking news from one, who either replied neither by word nor sign, or cursed me for my tribe and what