which could be reasonably made to agree with the idea of lightning, is the mention of the bright light; while throughout the whole account, the presence of a supernaturally mysterious _person_, acting and speaking, is perfectly unquestionable. The violation of all probability, shown in this forced explanation, will serve as a fair instance of the mode in which many modern German critics are in the habit of distorting the simple, manifest sense of the sacred writers, for the sake of dispensing with all supernatural occurrences. (See Kuinoel for an enlarged view and discussion of this opinion. Other views of the nature of the phenomenon are also given by him, and by Rosenmueller, on Acts xii. 7.) Morning dawned at last upon the towers and temple-columns of the Holy City. On the gold-sheeted roofs and snowy-pillared colonnades of the house of God, the sunlight poured with a splendor hardly more glorious than the insupportable brilliancy that was sent back from their dazzling surfaces, streaming like a new morning upon the objects around, whose nearer sides would otherwise have been left in shade by the eastern rays. Castle Antonia shared in this general illumination, and at the first blaze of sunrise, the order of Roman service announced the moment for relieving guard. The bustle of the movement of the new sentries towards their stands, must at last have reached the ears of Peter’s forsaken companions. Their first waking thoughts would of course be on their responsible charge, and they now became for the first time aware of the important deficiency. In vain did their heavy eyes, at first winking with sleepiness, but now wide open with amazement, search the dim vacancy for their eloped bed-fellow. The most inquisitive glance fell only on the blank space between them, scarcely blanker than the forlorn visages of the poor keepers, who saw in this disappearance the seal of their certain death, for having let the prisoner escape. But they had not much time to consider their misfortune, or condole upon it; for the change of sentries now brought to the door the quaternion whose turn on duty came next. With a miserable grace did the unhappy occupants of the cell show themselves at the open door, with the empty chains and fetters dangling at their sides, from which their late companion had so curiously slipped. Most uncomfortable must have been the aspect of things to the two sentinels who had been keeping their steady watch outside of the door, and who shared equally with the inside keepers, in the undesirable responsibilities of this accident. There stood their comrades with the useless chains displayed in their original attachments; but, _amazing!_ what in the world had they done with the prisoner? The ludicrous distress and commotion resulting from this unpleasant revelation, was evidently well appreciated even by the sacred historian, whose brief but pithy expression is not without a latent comic force. “There was