to know the truth of that matter can at least do you no hurt."

"Be silent!" cried a voice, that of the renegade jailer, "and cease
preaching your accursed faith!"

"Let him alone," answered other voices. "We will hear this story of his.
We say--let him alone."

Thus encouraged the old man spoke on with an eloquence so simple and yet
so touching, with a wisdom so deep, that for full fifteen minutes none
cared even to interrupt him. Then a far-away listener cried:

"Why must these people die who are better than we?"

"Friend," answered the bishop, in ringing tones, which in that heavy
silence seemed to search out even the recesses of the great and crowded
place, "we must die because it is the will of King Agrippa, to whom
God has given power to destroy us. Mourn not for us because we perish
cruelly, since this is the day of our true birth, but mourn for King
Agrippa, at whose hands our blood will be required, and mourn, mourn for
yourselves, O people. The death that is near to us perchance is nearer
still to some of you; and how will you awaken who perish in your sins?
What if the sword of God should empty yonder throne? What if the voice
of God should call on him who fills it to make answer of his deeds?
Soon or late, O people, it will call on him and you to pass hence, some
naturally in your age, others by the sharp and dreadful roads of sword,
pestilence or famine. Already those woes which He whom you crucified
foretold, knock at your door, and within a few short years not one of
you who crowd this place in thousands will draw the breath of life.
Nothing will remain of you on earth save the fruit of those deeds which