The second barge had a more precious freight--seven times seven mothers, each fondling for the last time her first-born son, a little babe that lay naked in her lap. Some of these women belonged to the lowest class, the abandoned sort, whose maternal impulses were hardly above the brutal instinct, and who were not averse to making a religious merit of the infanticide to which they had been sometimes tempted in order to escape the care of their offspring. Others among them were honest, but abjectly poor, and had been persuaded by the priests thus to give their children back to the All-giving Baal. A few made the sacrifice with bleeding hearts. These sat in utter misery, staring as if for relief towards the burning heavens, that gave no token of mercy. Around the group of innocents was ranged a cordon of enthusiasts, who sang in prayer to Baal, and again in wild refrain declared the god's reward to those who willingly gave up their children--riches untold, and new offspring according to desire in number, sex, and beauty; all painless gifts, in compensation for the pang of their gift to Heaven. The third barge surpassed all in the splendor and costliness of its decoration. About its sides were ranged the statues and banners representing all the gods of Phoenicia. In the centre rose an altar-shaped throne. The royal chair was overlaid with beaten gold. Above it hung a canopy of purple silk, the same that Trypho had dyed for Hiram's gift to Zillah. The king sat on his throne as if he commanded the pageant. His face was white, his lips compressed, his eye steady: a king still, though seemingly done in marble. On his head he wore the ancient crown of Tyre. In his hand was a sword of bronze, its bluish blade exquisitely chased with the symbols of authority, and its golden hilt thickly studded with gems. At the prow of the barge stood Egbalus, arrayed in the most gorgeous vestments of his office, his hands outstretched in continual prayer. The imposing cortège made its way slowly; the barges being propelled only by priests, whose sacred character was supposed to make amends for their lack of skill in handling the long oars that were affixed to the sides. The tall prows of the vessels that lined the course, as a guard of honor, were surmounted with figure-heads representing the gods; and, moved by the gentle undulation of the waves, these divinities seemed to bow in acknowledgment of the superior honor of Moloch. CHAPTER X.