us, and burst open this stout door in spite of bars, without rousing the sentinels who are posted against it on the outside, and make his way unseen and unchecked through all the gates and guards of Castle Antonia――why, let him. But there’s no use in our losing a night’s rest by any uneasiness about such a chance.” So stretching themselves out, they soon fell into a sound sleep, none the less pleasant for their lying in such close quarters; for it is natural to imagine, that in a chilly March night in Jerusalem, stowing three in a bed was no uncomfortable arrangement. Circumstanced as he was, Peter had nothing to do but conform to their example, for the nature of his attachment to them was such, that he had no room for the indulgence of his own fancies about his position; and he also lay down to repose. He slept. The sickening and feverish confinement of his close dungeon had not yet so broken his firm and vigorous frame, nor so drained its energies, as to hinder the placid enjoyment of repose; nor did the certainty of a cruel and shameful death, to which he was within a few hours to be dragged, before the eyes of a scoffing rabble, move his high spirit from its self-possession:―― “And still he slumbered While in ‘decree, his hours’ were numbered.” He slept. And from that dark prison-bed what visions could beguile his slumbering thoughts? Did fancy bear them back against the tide of time, to the humble, peaceful home of his early days,――to the varied scenes of the lake whereon he loved to dwell, and along whose changeful waters he had learned so many lessons of immortal faith and untrembling hope in his Lord? Amid the stormy roar of its dark waters, the voice of that Lord once called him to tempt the raging deep with his steady foot, and when his feeble faith, before untried, failed him in the terrors of the effort, His supporting hand recalled him to strength and safety. And had that lesson of faith and hope been so poorly learned, that in this dark hour he could draw no consolation from such remembrances? No. He could even now find that consolation, and he did. In the midst of this “sea of troubles,” he felt the same mighty arm now upholding him, that bore him above the waters, “when the blue wave rolled nightly on deep Galilee.” Again he had stood by those waters, swelling brightly in the fresh morning breeze, with his risen Lord beside him, and received the solemn commission, oft-renewed, to feed the flock that was so soon to lose the earthly presence of its great Shepherd. In the steady and dauntless execution of that parting commission, he had in the course of long years gone on in the face of death,――“feeding the lambs” of Christ’s gathering, and calling vast numbers to the fold; and for the faithful adherence to that command, he now sat waiting the fulfilment of the doom that was to cut him down in the midst of life and in the fullness of his vigor. Yet the nearness of this sad reward of