martyrs the word "_Dormit_: He sleeps."

The supernatural darkness had now given way to a calm twilight. The sky
was covered far toward the zenith with a golden splendor crossed with
bars of crimson light. It looked as if heaven's gates were opened; and
one gazing through could almost seem to see the flitting of superhuman
shapes and hear far-away voices calling, "Lift up your heads, O ye
gates; even lift them up, ye everlasting doors, and the King of Glory
shall come in!"

At that moment the earth rumbled under my feet; a shudder seemed to
pass through nature. It was said that as the high priest was kindling
the lamps in the Holy Place of the Temple, in connection with the
evening sacrifice, the great veil hanging before the Holy of Holies was
rent from the top to the bottom as if by an unseen hand. This happened
at the instant when the Nazarene yielded up his spirit, and his
followers are wont to say that when he passed from earth to resume his
heavenly glory a new and living way was opened up for penitent sinners
into the Holiest of All.

The execution being over, the people slowly dispersed to their homes.
Twilight settled down on Golgotha. A group of wailing women lingered
for a while, then went their way. Against the sky stood forth the three
crosses. On the uplifted face of Dysmas the moonlight showed the look
of ineffable peace that had settled upon it. The face of the other
robber was fallen upon his breast. In the midst Jesus looked upward,
dead but triumphant! Long and steadfastly I gazed upon him. The events
of the day crowded fast upon my mind and my conviction deepened that
this was no impostor, no fanatic, no common man. My conscience was sore
smitten; my heart was inexpressibly touched by the memory of the things
which I had seen; and, with scarcely an intention, I said aloud, but
softly, "Verily, this was a righteous man."

Then I reined my horse and rode down the hill. The lights were kindling
in Jerusalem; the beacon on the Castle of Antonia was beginning to
glow. At a little distance I drew rein and looked back at Golgotha. His
cross was there outlined against the sky. I felt myself in the grip of
a mighty passion of doubt and wonder! Who was he? Who was he? I would
go back and see!

I dismounted beneath his cross and gazed upward, unmindful of the
strange looks which my soldiers cast upon me. Tears came to my eyes,
old campaigner though I was, tears of grief, of penitence, of dawning
faith. I