backwards and forwards;-London was all astir. That very day the clouds, which now hung lurid and heavy overhead, had been lighted by the glare of the fires, in which had perished noble men and brave, of different rank, of different worth (for the poor as well as the rich could die for the faith), and those who had been eyewitnesses had sent terror into many and many a heart by what they told. Fear was let loose, and the devoted Protestants were truly brought under the rod of merciless and pitiless men.

The fire-light flickered red and glowing on the faces of the two, who sat together in one of the rooms. One, a woman, dressed in white, with glossy black hair and delicate features; the other, a fine, frank, handsome boy of some seventeen years. On the knee of the former a book was open, richly bound and clasped with silver. It was a Bible. But her white hand was laid upon the page and her eyes fear-stricken and dilated were fixed upon the boy, and there was a look of horror on that high pale brow, which he had never seen before, and which the flickering light showed clear and distinct to his own dark eyes. Something terrible had happened, to stamp such a print upon her face.

"Dead, Robert!"

"Dead, mother, burnt at Oxford."

Burnt, O heaven! It cannot be, you are mistaken." "Mother, it is but too true.

"O it is horrible. " And she covered her face with her hands, and trembled from head to foot as she sat. He was excited also; fear and sorrow were mingled together on his face, his lips quivered, and there was a kind of wild fearstricken tone in his voice, as he spoke in a low whisper, bending over towards her.

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It is all through London, mother, true enough, I had it from more than one. It is very dreadful.

Yes, those were not the only hearts which the death of the good Ridley had stricken with grief and terror in that wide city. Many grieved for the good and pious Protestant, taken from the midst of his teachings and well-doings, and added to their sorrow fear for themselves; for if the chiefs were taken, how should those, who followed in their footsteps, be respected or spared? It was a heavy and terrible loss, and as such it struck home to Protestant believers, and they felt it deeply indeed;—and these two less than none. The boy stood for a minute and watched his mother, with large tears gathering in his eyes; and then threw himself into a seat, and gave way at last to uncontrolled grief; and for a time, nothing broke the silence, but the crackling of the fire and the sound of low weeping in the chamber.

(To be continued.)

MOSES.

(Continued from page 52.)

THE EXODUS.

AND it was so. The day appointed came. It was the fourteenth day of the month, and it was the evening of that day. The red round sun went down behind the Lybian Hills. The hot light upon the glowing sky faded away. Darkness came down upon all the land of Egypt. Every living thing soon sought its place of repose. Only that eternal, ever-flowing river still rolled on its mighty waters towards the ocean, and reflected, in broken lines of light, the stars that looked down upon it from the sky. All else was still. Not even a breath of air stirred the tall palm trees, that stood silent and motionless upon the river's brink. In the palace and the cottage, in the peopled city, in the solemn temple, in the hovel of mud by the still watercourses, and on the borders of the sandy desert, sleep had sunk upon the eyelids of every son of Egypt. Unconscious of the fate that was impending over them-having received no word of warning from the mouth of God's prophet--having no sign of blood upon their door-post, to tell the destroying angel that he must pass on and spare-these unhappy Egyptians slept on, either in deep death-like slumber, or in quiet dreams, till the dread hour of midnight drew nigh, and the darkness thickened, and the stillness grew yet more profound. But in the land of Goshen, and wherever there stood the dwelling of an Israelite, the hours of night, as they stole on, looked upon another scene. In every dwelling there twinkled a light, which showed that the inhabitants were still astir. On every board there was food, or preparation for it. All were dressed as for a journey-every man with his staff in his hand, his sandals on his feet, and his bundle on his shoulder. Everywhere there was motion, and activity, and preparation. On the lintel, too, of every door was a sign of blood; and as the people sometimes opened the door to look upon the night, they regarded this mysterious stain as if they recognised in it their pledge of safety or as if they yet wondered why they had been ordered to place it there. In all their motions, and in the sound of their voices, there was hope and joy, mingled with a strange feeling of fear. The hour of their deliverance was come. They did not, indeed, know how it was to be accomplished. Some of them had, now and then, misgivings as to its being accomplished at all. But the trial was going to be made. The moment was at length approaching, when they were to set out from the house of their bondage.

The hour of midnight came. It came, and the land of Goshen did not feel it as it passed. The Israelites still continued their preparations. They stood round the board on which their hasty supper had been prepared. The eat it in haste, and, generally, in silence. They were too anxious to talk much. But they listened and watched, and were ready.

But it was not so among the dwellings of their taskmasters. When the hour of midnight struck, a great cry was heard throughout all the land of Egypt. In every house, every living man rose up in grief and consternation. In every house, there was one who never rose up more. It was the first-born child-the eldest of the house the pride of his mother-the right hand of his father. Where was he? Still, cold, and motionless he lay, for the destroying angel had passed over his dwelling, aud, seeing there no sign that he was to pass on and spare, he had breathed upon the face of this young Egyptian, and his spirit had passed away. Then rose the cry of mourning and lamentation, and one went forth to his neighbour's house to communicate the sad intelligence, and invite them also to come in and join the cry of grief. Alas! the same cry went up also from that dwelling-and from that-and from that. It was the same tale everywhere. There was not one house in which there was not one dead, and always the first-born. Then the people, with one accord, felt-they could not help feeling-that this must be the hand of the Gods, or of some God, and that it was against the nation-against the whole people-that it was directed. For, by and bye, it was whispered that, among the dwellings of the Israelites, this terrible calamity had not occurred, and that among them there was not one dead. Nor was it only in the city, or in the cottage of the poor, or in the stately mansion of the noble, or in the temple dwelling of the priest, that death had entered on this awful night. He had knocked also at the gate of Pharaoh's palace, and the first-born of the great king of Egypt, like the first-born of the humblest water-drawer by the Nile, lay dead upon the bed on which, at sunset, he had lain down alive.

Ah! it was too plain now. There was no mistaking what this meant. There was no mistaking from whence it came. The heart that could not feel for others' woes-the heart that could order every male child of a whole people to be destroyed, and care not for the mother's cry-was now made to feel its own. The great Pharaoh-the mighty King of Egypt-was obliged to acknowledge that there was a power above his own,-a power he could not cope with, and dared no longer to provoke. His own child-his own first-born-was dead-gone for ever. Every one of his subjects,

rich or poor, far or near, had been struck as he had been, but not one of his bondsmen-not one of this despised people. The hard heart of Pharaoh was not melted, not softened, not penitent, but it was subdued-it was terrified. And when his courtiers and counsellors came around him and said, "We pray thee, great Pharaoh, let these people be thrust out of the land, or we shall be all dead men"—he replied, "Let them go." And then, ere yet the night was passed, he called for Moses and Aaron, and told them to get up out of the land, they and all their people, and everything that belonged to them, and go and worship their God in the wilderness, or wherever they would-only to begone, and relieve the country of their dangerous presence. And all the Egyptians that were near urged them to be speedy in their departure, and, as it were, thrust them out of the land.

No time was lost. The Israelites were all ready to depart. Everything was packed and laid together, as for a long journey. Their flocks and cattle, too, were soon collected, and with these and their household goods, and such food as they already had prepared, and with all their moveable possessions, they set out gladly upon their long, uncertain pilgrimage. They left behind that mighty river, on whose banks they and their fathers had sojourned for 460 years, and whose unfailing waters they would often have to long for, as they wandered through the dry and thirsty deserts of Arabia. They left the green pastures, and the stately palms, and the waving corn-fields of this fertile land. They saw no more, for ever, those vast cities teeming with busy life, and the temples which stood like some gigantic monuments of an earlier age, and the pyramids which they themselves had helped to heap up into mountains. Their faces were now set towards another country, where every object, whether of nature or from the hand of man, would be altogether different. They would never find another land like Egpyt, till they found another river like the Nile. Often would they look back to this garden of greenness and water, when they were pining among barren rocks, or on sands where no green thing could find a resting place to this land of plenty, when they were trusting to a miracle for the providing of their next meal. But, at present, happily, the future was unknown, and all their care was to escape from the cruelty of their taskmasters, and to serve Jehovah as a free people, in the free wilderness.

They set forward on their way. They travelled towards the south-east. They had, indeed, no care themselves about the direction of their journey, or the places they should mark out for their mighty encampment. All this was done for them. All day long

there moved before their host a pillar of cloud—a tall and shadowy form-which seemed to rest upon the ground, and to reach up almost to the sky. It was so high that they could all see it, and towards that cloud, they continually moved forward. When the sun went down and darkness fell upon the world, then this cloud became luminous, and glowed with a red fiery light, that shone, far and near, over field and forest and mountain, and was like an everpresent assurance to the wanderers that that God, who had released them from their bondage, was ever near to watch by them while they slept, and be their guard by night, as he was now their only guide by day.

And so they moved on towards the confines of the land. They took their way along that valley near the mountains of Attaka, which has ever since been known by the name of the Valley of the Wandering. This at length brought them out upon the shores of the Red Sea, and there they pitched their tents for the ensuing night. Where did their course lie now? Before them were blue waters of the sea. Beyond, on the other side, rose the long broken range of the Arabian hills. If they took the shore to the right, it would lead them still farther from the wilderness towards which they believed they were bound. If they went to the left they would have to go far round by the head of the gulph on whose shore they were now encamped, and would almost, indeed, be returning towards the country they had just left. Very soon, the perplexity that was thus felt among those who occupied the van of this immense host was increased, or rather gave place to terror, by an alarm that came up from the rear. It was said that clouds of dust were seen rising in the distance, on the track which they had just travelled. Presently long lines of chariots, and columns of armed men, appeared. As they came nearer, the banners and dress of the Egyptian army could be seen, and it was no longer doubtful that the Israelites were pursued by their oppressors, and that death, or a return to their captivity, would be their certain fate. was to be done? All was instant terror and confusion. Flight was impossible. The deep sea was before them: the enemy was behind them. That enemy had chariots and horses: they were on foot, and were at present, too, encamped, and everything was unpacked and spread about ready for their evening meal and their night's repose. They were evidently at the mercy of their enemies. Many of them in their fear ran to Moses, and gathered round him,― not to ask his counsel, not to assure him that they were ready to rally round him and do his bidding, though it should be to march out to meet the host of their oppressors, but they gathered round

What