mitted to enter at all. And her name is Mater Tenebrarum,- Our Lady of Darkness.

These were the Semnai Theai, or Sublime Goddesses,* these were the Eumenides, or Gracious Ladies (so called by antiquity in shuddering propitiation) of my Oxford dreams. Madonna spoke. She spoke by her mysterious hand. Touching my head, she beckoned to Our Lady of Sighs; and what she spoke, translated out of the signs which (except in dreams) no man reads, was this:

"Lo! here is he, whom in childhood I dedicated to my altars. This is he that once I made my darling. Him I led astray, him I beguiled, and from heaven I stole away his young heart to mine. Through me did he become idolatrous; and through me it was, by languishing desires, that he worshipped the worm, and prayed to the wormy grave. Holy was the grave to him; lovely was its darkness; saintly its corruption. Him, this young idolator, I have seasoned for thee dear gentle Sister of Sighs! Do thou take him now to thy heart, and season him for our dreadful sister. And thou,' turning to the Mater Tenebrarum, she said, "wicked sister, that temptest and hatest, do thou take him from her. See that thy sceptre lie heavy on his head. Suffer not woman and her tenderness to sit near him in his darkness. Banish the frailties of hope, wither the relenting of love, scorch the fountains of

*"Sublime Goddesses." —The word ouros is usually rendered venerable in dictionaries; not a very flattering epithet for females. But by weighing a number of passages in which the word is used pointedly, I am disposed to think that it comes nearest to our idea of the sublime, as near as a Greek word could come.

, tears, curse him as only thou canst curse.

So shall he be accomplished in the furnace, so shall he see the things that ought not to be seen, sights that are abominable, and secrets that are unutterable. So shall he read elder truths, sad truths, grand truths, fearful truths. So shall he rise again before he dies. And so shall our commission be accomplished which from God we had, to plague his heart until we had unfolded the capacities of his spirit.”

DAMASCUS, first-born of cities. Om el Denia, mother of generations, that wast before Abraham, that wast before the Pyramids! what sounds are those that, from a postern gate, looking eastwards over secret paths that wind away to the far distant desert, break the solemn silence of an oriental night? Whose voice is that which calls upon the spearmen, keeping watch forever in the turret surmounting the gate, to receive him back into his Syrian home? Thou knowest him, Damascus, and hast known him in seasons of trouble as one learned in the afflictions of man; wise alike to take counsel for the suffering spirit or for the suffering body.

The voice that breaks upon the night is the voice of a great evangelist one of the four; and he is also a great physician. This do the watchmen at the gate thankfully acknowledge, and joyfully they give him entrance. His sandals are white with dust for he has been roaming for weeks beyond the desert, under the guidance of the Arabs, on missions of hopeful benignity to Palmyra; and in spirit he is weary of all things, except faithfulness to God, and burning love to man.

Eastern cities are asleep betimes; and sounds few or none fretted the quiet of all around him, as the evangelist paced onward to the market-place; but there another scene awaited him. On the right hand, in an upper chamber, with lattices widely expanded,

sat a festal company of youths, revelling under a noonday blaze of light, from cressets and from bright tripods that burned fragrant woods - all joining in choral songs, all crowned with odorous wreaths from Daphne and the banks of the Orontes.

Them the evangelist heeded not, but far away upon the left, close upon a sheltered nook, lighted up by a solitary vase of iron fret-work filled with cedar boughs, and hoisted high upon a spear, behold there sat a woman of loveliness so transcendent, that, when suddenly revealed, as now, out of deepest darkness, she appalled men as a mockery, or a birth of the air. Was she born of woman? Was it perhaps the angel SO the evangelist argued with himself that met him in the desert after sunset, and strengthened him with secret talk? The evangelist went up and touched her forehead and when he found that she was indeed human, and guessed from the station which she had chosen, that she waited for some one amongst this dissolute crew as her companion, he groaned heavily in spirit, and said, half to himself, but half to her, "Wert thou, poor, ruined flower, adorned so divinely at thy birth · glorified in such excess, that not Solomon in all his pomp, no, nor even the lilies of the field, can approach thy gifts only that thou shouldst grieve the Holy Spirit of God?

The woman trembled exceedingly and said, " Rabbi, what should I do? For behold! all men forsake me!" The evangelist mused a little, and then secretly to himself he said, "Now will I search this woman's heart, whether in very truth it inclineth itself to God, and hath strayed only before fiery compulsion." Turning

therefore to the woman, the Prophet said,

“Listen:

I am the messsenger of Him whom thou hast not known; of Him that made Lebanon, and the cedars of Lebanon; that made the sea, and the heavens, and the host of the stars; that made the light; that made the darkness; that blew the spirit of life into the nostrils of man. His messenger I am: and from him all power is given me to bind and to loose, to build and to pull down. Ask, therefore, whatsoever thou wiltgreat or small- and through me thou shalt receive it from God. But, my child, ask not amiss. For God is able out of thy own evil asking to weave snares for thy footing. And oftentimes to the lambs whom he loves he gives by seeming to refuse; gives in some better sense, or (and his voice swelled into the power of anthems)" in some far happier world. Now, therefore, my daughter, be wise on thy own behalf, and say what it is that I shall ask for thee from God."

But the daughter of Lebanon needed not his caution; for immediately dropping on one knee to God's ambassador, whilst the full radiance from the cedar torch fell upon the glory of a penitential eye, she raised her clasped hands in supplication, and said, in answer to the evangelist asking for a second time what gift he should call down upon her from Heaven, "Lord, that thou wouldst put me back into my father's house." And the evangelist, because he was human, dropped a tear as he stooped to kiss her forehead, saying, "Daughter, thy prayer is heard in heaven; and I tell thee that the daylight shall not come and go for thirty times, not for the thirtieth time shall the sun drop be

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