The close of the festival was at hand; Helon could scarce refrain from tears when, on the evening of the seventh day, the sound of the trumpets announced that it was over. The last day, the twenty-first of the month Nisan, was as holy as the first, and no work could lawfully be done on either of them. The festival-offering was presented on this as on every other of the seven days: the ashes from such a multitude of sacrifices, never having been cleared away, had accumulated to a lofty heap upon the altar. All those who had remained in Jerusalem had assembled in the temple; in the afternoon they went to the synagogue, and with sunset the feast of unleavened bread was over. Helon went down from the temple, with slow and melancholy steps. The pilgrims were preparing for their departure, and the citizens returning to their ordinary occupations. On the following morning they were present at the sacrifice, and returned thanks to Jehovah for permitting them to join in the celebration of his Passover. The tents were then struck; the different companies arranged themselves, and with the sound of cymbals poured out from the different gates, after having taken a hearty farewell of their respective friends. Helon stood upon the roof, and saw the commotion in the streets and at the gates. The city gradually became more empty and silent. He listened, as the songs of the pilgrims died away in the distance, and when he heard from the road to Bethlehem, where he had himself joined in the chorus, the psalm which they were singing on their return, the sound fell on his heart, like the knell of departed joy. NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. [Illustration] BOOK I.