Now up to the very last I had not given up all hope that Jesus might yet come down from the cross, shewing forth some mighty work worthy of a Messiah; nor did I indeed know how much hope I had had, till this moment wherein all hope perished. But now, when I turned myself to go away from the cross and to leave Jesus for ever, all things seemed ended, and I felt as one alone in the world; yea, I knew not whether there were a God, or whether I myself lived, or all life were not a dream. Thus I went forward, as one in a trance; when on a sudden I heard the voice of Hezekiah the Scribe: “Art thou not yet convinced of thy folly? Behold, it is written that thou shouldest not put thy trust in any child of man. For when the breath of man goeth forth, he shall turn again to his earth, and then all his thoughts perish; even as this thy master, the false prophet, hath perished. But blessed is he that hath the God of Jacob for his help, who keepeth His promises for ever. But thy master, how keepeth he his promises? Unless perchance,” and here he lowered his voice and looked jealously at me, “unless (as is reported to us) ye Galileans hope to steal his body from the grave and so to feign that he is risen; but that shall not be. For though your patron Joseph of Arimathea may have his will to‐ day, yet will we take good order that we have our will to‐morrow. For the body of a false prophet deserveth not honourable burial.” I could endure his words no longer, but ran past him as one mad. But, when I was now rid of his presence, passing back into the city by the western gate, my mind ran on all such things as I had done with Jesus on the day before, and my feet turned of themselves toward the house where we had kept the Passover together. Thence, but still as one in a dream, scarce knowing what I did, I bent my way towards the gate of the valley of Kidron. Here I was musing how, but yesterday, in this very place, I had walked by the side of Jesus, even at his right hand, and how the touch of his arm had held me up in my stumbling; when behold, I started back as if I had seen a spirit. For the voice of one close to me in the twilight whispered with an hissing sound, “He is not dead.” I looked, and behold, Judas stood before me. His face was pale and his eyes glared, and passion so wrought his features that they moved and quivered, as if against his will, like unto the features of one possessed by Satan. When I drew back from him, at first he would have stayed me; but seeing that I loathed him, he also drew back and said, “Nay, be not afraid, I cannot betray another. But he is not dead. Hast thou not seen him?” I marvelled at him, but said nothing, only shaking my head. Then Judas replied, “Think not that I have slain him; he liveth: he hunteth me to death; these three times have I seen him. I have not slain him. Why then doth he yet hunt me? But thou, thou didst love him, be thou at peace with me.” Saying these words, he