er is comparatively small; so that the
utmost possible impression of awe shall be produced upon the minds of
all, though direct suffering is inflicted upon few. Consider, for
instance, the moral effect of a single thunderstorm. Perhaps two or
three persons may be struck dead within a space of a hundred square
miles; and their death, unaccompanied by the scenery of the storm, would
produce little more than a momentary sadness in the busy hearts of
living men. But the preparation for the judgment, by all that mighty
gathering of the clouds; by the questioning of the forest leaves, in
their terrified stillness, which way the winds shall go forth; by the
murmuring to each other, deep in the distance, of the destroying angels
before they draw their swords of fire; by the march of the funeral
darkness in the midst of the noonday, and the rattling of the dome of
heaven beneath the chariot wheels of death;--on how many minds do not
these produce an impression almost as great as the actual witnessing of
the fatal issue! and how strangely are the expressions of the
threatening elements fitted to the apprehensions of the human soul! The
lurid colour, the long, irregular, convulsive sound, the ghastly shapes
of flaming and heaving cloud, are all true and faithful in their appeal
to our instinct of danger."--Ruskin, _Stones of Venice_, III. 197-8.

Such a tempest, dreadful anywhere, would be most appalling of all in the
serene atmosphere of Egypt, to unaccustomed spectators, and minds
troubled by their guilt. Accordingly we find that Pharaoh was less
terrified by the absolute mischief done than by the "voices of God,"
when, unnerved for the moment, he confessed at least that he had sinned
"this time" (a singularly weak repentance for his long and daring
resistance, even if we explain it, "this time I confess that I have
sinned"), and went on in his terror to pour out orthodox phrases and
professions with suspicious fluency. The main point was the bargain
which he proposed: "Intreat the Lord, for there hath been enough of
mighty thunderings and hail; and I will let you go, and ye shall stay no
longer."

Looking attentively at all this, we discern in it a sad resemblance to
some confessions of these latter days. Men are driven by affliction to
acknowledge God: they confess the offence which is palpable, and even
add that God is righteous and that they are not. If possible, they
shelter themselves from lonely condemnation by general p