crushed beneath
the hand of God, moaning like some wild beast dedicated to death, but
unable to utter a word or shed a tear.

When God visits His people with affliction He also gives them tears that
they may weep out their sorrow, and power of speech that they may talk
of their griefs and so find relief, but even these things were denied to
this old man. There he knelt, scourged by the wrath of God, humbled to
the very earth, like a withered branch which stiffens into dry
lifelessness without complaint.

The young man, groping his way along, with his soul benumbed with
sorrow, approached the old man, and gently, noiselessly knelt down by
his side.

The old man regarded him stupidly, and for some time seemed to be
wondering who it was. He could not speak, for, though still alive, Death
had already mastered his tongue, and his son fancied he did not
recognise him. Perchance it was impossible to recognise that haggard
distorted face, that ragged garb, those dishevelled locks.

"I am your son whom you drove away, and who will soon be your dead son
too," he exclaimed, with deep emotion, trying to seize the old man's
hand that he might kiss it.

But the old man drew back his hand with horror. One could see loathing
in the expression of his face, just as if the Devil had extended his
hand to him in the moment of his most sacred sorrow.

"I deserve your disgust, your repudiation. I sinned grievously against
you. You have grown grey betimes because of me. But all this shall be
atoned for by a death, my death. You never loved me, you drove me away
from your house as you would never have driven a dog, you let me perish
in want and wretchedness; from my childish years upwards I have never
had a good word from you, had it been otherwise things might have been
very different. Those whom you loved God took away from you, those you
did not love you drove away yourself, and now you are alone in the
world."

The old man signified to him in dumb show that he was to say no more.

"I have not come hither to ask anything of you, so short will be the
remaining period of my life that I shall want no provision for the way.
I only want to reveal to you a horrible diabolical plot which threatens
your grey head, your family, and perhaps your very house. My father, in
ten minutes' time I shall have ceased to live, and no more words of mine
will ever trouble your soul again, do not repulse me in the very hour of
my death!"

The old man s