The Complete Apocrypha Of The

Ethiopian Bible 20 Missing Books In

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English Version Includes Enoch Giants
Watchers Angels And Sirach 1st Edition
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 The Complete Apocrypha
OF THE
ETHIOPIAN
BIBLE

20 Missing Books In The Protestant

Canon Of
Ge’ez Bible in English Version.

Includes Enoch, Giants, Watchers,

Angels And Sirach.
Copyright © 2022 Ancient Holy Writings - All
rights reserved.
This book is our reworking and modernization of ancient apocrypha
of the Ethiopian Bible not found in modern Protestant traditional
editions, so our version may not be reproduced, duplicated or
transmitted without written permission from the author or
publisher.

Legal Notice
No part or content of this book may be modified, distributed, sold,
used, quoted, or paraphrased without the consent of the author or
publisher, except for those parts in the public domain that are
accessible to all.
Translated into modern, fluent English from the original manuscript
from Classical Ethiopian (Ge'ez), Hebrew and Christian and
organized logically.

Disclaimer Notice
The information in this document has been provided for
informational and popular purposes only on ancient Hebrew and
Christian writings. Every effort has been made to present accurate,
up-to-date, reliable, and complete information. No guarantees of any
kind are given. Readers acknowledge that the author does not
undertake to provide advice of a religious or spiritual nature, but
only to report on ancient manuscripts. The contents of this book
have been derived from various sources. Therefore, readers are
advised to learn the information included as an exclusive act of
curiosity.
By reading this document, the reader agrees that in no event shall
the author be liable for any loss, direct or indirect, incurred as a
result of the use of the information contained herein, including, but
not limited to, errors, omissions, or inaccuracies.
 The Complete Apocrypha Of The
Ethiopian Bible - Contents
Introduction And Guide To Apocryphal Writings
The Wisdom Of Solomon
The Book Of Meqabyan (In Lyric Rastafari Version
of Jamaican Patois)
I MEQABYAN
II MEQABYAN
III MEQABYAN
The Book Of Enoch
The Book Of Watchers – Enoch’s Ethiopic
Book 1
The Book Of Parables – Enoch’s Ethiopic
Book 2
The Book Of Noah – Apocryphal Part Of
Noah’s Book Excluded From Canonical Bible
The Book Of The Luminaries Of The Heaven
– Enoch’s Ethiopic Book 3
The Book Of Dream And Vision – Enoch’s
Ethiopic Book 4
The Epistle Of Enoch – Enoch’s Ethiopic Book
5
Esdras
The Prophecy Of Jeremiah (Epistle Of Jeremiah)
Baruc
Additions Of The Book Of Esther
Psalm 151
The Wisdom Of Jesus Son Of Sirach (The Book Of
Sirach or Ecclesiasticus)
The Book Of Tobit
The Book Of Judith
Bel And The Dragon
Susanna
APOCRYPHA ETHIOPIC PRAYERS
The Prayer Of Manasseh – King Of Judah
The Prayer Of Azariah
Introduction - Guide To Apocryphal
Writings

Protestants use the term apocryphal to name books

that were included in the Old Testament of the
Septuagint but not in the Old Testament of the
Masoretic Text.
If we pick up the Protestant Bible, we notice 66
books. Precisely 39 from the Old Testament and 27
from the New Testament. What most people miss is
that there are other books in the Old Testament. We
are talking about the so-called apocryphal,
deuterocanonical books.
Apocryphal means hidden , not in a negative sense
as one might think but in the strict definition of
secondary . Protestants did not remove these books
from their Bibles but removed them from their
classical Old Testament position and placed them in a
separate section between the Old and New
Testaments. They called this section the Apocryphal
books because of their dubious canonicity.
Apocryphal is a term used mostly by Protestants,
while Roman Catholics call these books
deuterocanonical, that is, secondary canon precisely.
Let us then emphasize that the Apocrypha were not
excommunicated from the King James Version of the
Bible or any other Protestant Bible of the
Reformation era. The Septuagint, on the other hand,
is a Greek translation of the Old Testament dating
from about the second century B.C. At the same
time, the Masoretic Text is the modern Hebrew
version of the Old Testament from the eighth century
A.D. We note that the Septuagint and the Masoretic
Text had older Jewish origins. The Septuagint was
centuries older than Christianity and had been the
popular version of the Old Testament for Jews at the
time of Christ and the apostles.
However, beginning in the fifth century CE, Jews
preferred the proto-Masoretic family of texts, while
Christians continued to use the Septuagint. This
eventually led to Jewish accusations of using a
corrupted Old Testament by Christians. Partly out of
ignorance of Greek Old Testament history, Christians
came to use the proto-Masoretic text as the basis for
the Old Testament, but the extra books of the
Septuagint were retained in the canon of the time.
From the data we have, there is no certainty of
considering it " God's Word "; however, the signature
of the narrating prophets is there, and it is
undeniable. The Apocrypha was included in all
Reformation-era Bibles, and Protestants continued to
read them, but because of their questionable status,
they did not use them to derive doctrine. None of
them condemned the use or reading of the Books
and in fact, did not exclude them from the Bible. The
Books precisely were included in the Luther Bible,
the Geneva Bible, the Bishop's Bible, the King James
Bible and others. But as time went on, books were
read less and less. In the 19th century, various
translations, such as the King James Bible, began to
be produced without these " secondary " texts. The
Ethiopian church was never against the presentation
of these books; everyone, including the Jews of
Ethiopia and Ethiopian Christians, considered the
presence of these writings legitimate without ever
questioning them. Gathered in this book are the
books excluded from the Protestant canon of the 66
traditional biblical texts that, for convenience, we will
call the restricted canon , such as The Book of Enoch
or ancient Ethiopian books of the prophet Enoch, the
3 Meqabyan , The Wisdom of Solomon and all those
unique texts of the canons of the ancient Ethiopian
Bible, one of the earliest and oldest ever.
The initial language of these ancient writings was
Ge'ez ; this edition readily translated into English
except for some parts in the lyrics Rastafari version
of Jamaica Patos like the Meqabyan. You can only
find these books in Catholic and Eastern Orthodox
Bibles, especially the Meqabyan in the Ethiopian
Orthodox Testament and the beta Israel Masnada
Kedus biblical canon. Ge'ez is the language also
called “Classical Ethiopian” and translated into
English in this edition which has apocryphal texts of
Ethiopian origin also present, in the minority, in the
King James version.
Why none of these books are continued in other
Christian or Jewish traditions is a mystery. The only
plausible explanation is the difficulty of linguistic
translation of the Greek and Hebrew versions. If
we take Enoch and his testament, then, for example,
one must know that for most of the history of the
Church in Asia and Europe, Enoch was unknown.
James Bruce, a Scotsman, brought him to light in
1773 when up to that time, only Ethiopia had
survived. The work, The Book of Enoch , was later, in
fact translated into English by Sir R.H. Charles in
1893. It was never considered by Protestants and
also the other books that follow in this collection and
never instead considered controversial by orthodox
Christians.
It has never been considered by Protestants and the
other books that follow in this collection and never
instead regarded as controversial by Orthodox
Christians. It is not a heretical text as the Gnostic
texts are, but it is still considered an unpopular text
by Protestants. For all other considerations, we leave
the discussion to you.
This edition aims to make possible the dissemination
of the texts and to give cues for interpretation to
those who want to study the documents of history.
Happy reading.
The Wisdom Of Solomon

Wis.1

[ 1 ] Love righteousness, ye that be judges of the earth: think of the

Lord with a good heart, and in simplicity of heart seek him.
[ 2 ] For he will be found of them that tempt him not; and sheweth
himself unto such as do not distrust him.
[ 3 ] For froward thoughts separate from God: and his power, when
it is tried, reproveth the unwise.
[ 4 ] For into a malicious soul wisdom shall not enter; nor dwell in
the body that is subject unto sin.
[ 5 ] For the holy spirit of discipline will flee deceit, and remove from
thoughts
that are without understanding, and will not abide when
unrighteousness cometh in.
[ 6 ] For wisdom is a loving spirit; and will not acquit a blasphemer
of his words: for God is witness of his reins, and a true beholder of
his heart, and a hearer of his tongue.
[ 7 ] For the Spirit of the Lord filleth the world: and that which
containeth all things hath knowledge of the voice.
[ 8 ] Therefore he that speaketh unrighteous things cannot be hid:
neither shall vengeance, when it punisheth, pass by him.
[ 9 ] For inquisition shall be made into the counsels of the ungodly:
and the sound of his words shall come unto the Lord for the
manifestation of his wicked deeds.
[ 10 ] For the ear of jealousy heareth all things: and the noise of
murmurings is not hid.
[ 11 ] Therefore beware of murmuring, which is unprofitable; and
refrain your tongue from backbiting: for there is no word so secret,
that shall go for nought: and the mouth that belieth slayeth the
soul.
[ 12 ] Seek not death in the error of your life: and pull not upon
yourselves destruction with the works of your hands.
[ 13 ] For God made not death: neither hath he pleasure in the
destruction of the living.
[ 14 ] For he created all things, that they might have their being:
and the generations of the world were healthful; and there is no
poison of destruction in them, nor the kingdom of death upon the
earth:
[ 15 ] For righteousness is immortal:
[ 16 ] But ungodly men with their works and words called it to
them: for when they thought to have it their friend, they consumed
to nought, and made a covenant with it, because they are worthy to
take part with it.

Wis.2

[ 1 ] For the ungodly said, reasoning with themselves, but not

aright, Our life is short and tedious, and in the death of a man there
is no remedy: neither was there any man known to have returned
from the grave.
[ 2 ] For we are born at all adventure: and we shall be hereafter as
though we had never been: for the breath in our nostrils is as
smoke, and a little spark in the moving of our heart:
[ 3 ] Which being extinguished, our body shall be turned into ashes,
and our spirit shall vanish as the soft air,
[ 4 ] And our name shall be forgotten in time, and no man shall
have our works in remembrance, and our life shall pass away as the
trace of a cloud, and shall be dispersed as a mist, that is driven
away with the beams of the sun, and overcome with the heat
thereof.
[ 5 ] For our time is a very shadow that passeth away; and after our
end there is no returning: for it is fast sealed, so that no man
cometh again.
[ 6 ] Come on therefore, let us enjoy the good things that are
present: and let us speedily use the creatures like as in
youth.
[ 7 ] Let us fill ourselves with costly wine and ointments: and let no
flower of the spring pass by us:
[ 8 ] Let us crown ourselves with rosebuds, before they be withered:
[ 9 ] Let none of us go without his part of our voluptuousness: let us
leave tokens of our joyfulness in every place: for this is our portion,
and our lot is this.
[ 10 ] Let us oppress the poor righteous man, let us not spare the
widow, nor reverence the ancient gray hairs of the aged.
[ 11 ] Let our strength be the law of justice: for that which is feeble
is found to be nothing worth.
[ 12 ] Therefore let us lie in wait for the righteous; because he is
not for our turn, and he is clean contrary to our doings: he
upbraideth us with our offending the law, and objecteth to our
infamy the transgressings of our education.
[ 13 ] He professeth to have the knowledge of God: and he calleth
himself the child of the Lord.
[ 14 ] He was made to reprove our thoughts.
[ 15 ] He is grievous unto us even to behold: for his life is not like
other men's, his ways are of another fashion.
[ 16 ] We are esteemed of him as counterfeits: he abstaineth from
our ways as from filthiness: he pronounceth the end of the just to be
blessed, and maketh his boast that God is his father.
[ 17 ] Let us see if his words be true: and let us prove what shall
happen in the end of him.
[ 18 ] For if the just man be the son of God, he will help him, and
deliver him from the hand of his enemies.
[ 19 ] Let us examine him with despitefulness and torture, that we
may know his meekness, and prove his patience.
[ 20 ] Let us condemn him with a shameful death: for by his own
saying he shall be respected.
[ 21 ] Such things they did imagine, and were deceived: for their
own wickedness hath blinded them.
[ 22 ] As for the mysteries of God, they kn ew them not: neither
hoped they for the wages of righteousness, nor discerned a reward
for blameless souls.
[ 23 ] For God created man to be immortal, and made him to be an
image of his own eternity.
[ 24 ] Nevertheless through envy of the devil came death into the
world: and they that do hold of his side do find it.

Wis.3

[ 1 ] But the souls of the righteous are in the hand of God, and
there shall no torment touch them.
[ 2 ] In the sight of the unwise they seemed to die: and their
departure is taken for misery,
[ 3 ] And their going from us to be utter destruction: but they are in
peace.
[ 4 ] For though they be punished in the sight of men, yet is their
hope full of immortality.
[ 5 ] And having been a little chastised, they shall be greatly
rewarded: for God proved them, and found them worthy for
himself.
[ 6 ] As gold in the furnace hath he tried them, and received them
as a burnt offering.
[ 7 ] And in the time of their visitation they shall shine, and run to
and fro like sparks among the stubble.
[ 8 ] They shall judge the nations, and have dominion over the
people, and their Lord shall reign for ever.
[ 9 ] They that put their trust in him shall understand the truth: and
such as be faithful in love shall abide with him: for grace and mercy
is to his saints, and he hath care for his elect.
[ 10 ] But the ungodly shall be punished according to their own
imaginations, which have neglected the righteous, and forsaken the
Lord.
[ 11 ] For whoso despiseth wisdom and nurture, he is miserable,
and their hope is vain, their labours unfruitful, and their works
unprofitable:
[ 12 ] Their wives are foolish, and their children wicked:
[ 13 ] Their offspring is cursed. Wherefore blessed is the barren that
is undefiled, which hath not known the sinful bed: she shall have
fruit in the visitation of souls.
[ 14 ] And blessed is the eunuch, which with his hands hath
wrought no iniquity, nor imagined wicked things against God: for
unto him shall be given the special gift of faith, and an inheritance in
the temple of the Lord more acceptable to his mind.
[ 15 ] For glorious is the fruit of good labours: and the root of
wisdom shall never fall away.
[ 16 ] As for the children of adulterers, they shall not come to their
perfection, and the seed of an unrighteous bed shall be rooted
out.
[ 17 ] For though they live long, yet shall they be nothing regarded:
and their last age shall be without honour.
[ 18 ] Or, if they die quickly, they have no hope, neither comfort in
the day of trial.
[ 19 ] For horrible is the end of the unrighteous generation.

Wis.4

[ 1 ] Better it is to have no children, and to have virtue: for the

memorial thereof is immortal: because it is known with God, and
with men.
[ 2 ] When it is present, men take example at it; and when it is
gone, they desire it: it weareth a crown, and triumpheth for ever,
having gotten the victory, striving for undefiled rewards.
[ 3 ] But the multiplying brood of the ungodly shall not thrive, nor
take deep rooting from bastard slips, nor lay any fast
foundation.
[ 4 ] For though they flourish in branches for a time; yet standing
not last, they shall be shaken with the wind, and through the force
of winds they shall be rooted out.
[ 5 ] The imperfect branches shall be broken off, their fruit
unprofitable, not ripe to eat, yea, meet for nothing.
[ 6 ] For children begotten of unlawful beds are witnesses of
wickedness against their parents in their trial.
[ 7 ] But though the righteous be prevented with death, yet shall he
be in rest.
[ 8 ] For honourable age is not that which standeth in length of
time, nor that is measured by number of years.
[ 9 ] But wisdom is the gray hair unto men, and an unspotted life is
old age.
[ 10 ] He pleased God, and was beloved of him: so that living
among sinners he was translated.
[ 11 ] Yea speedily was he taken away, lest that wickedness should
alter his understanding, or deceit beguile his soul.
[ 12 ] For the bewitching of naughtiness doth obscure things that
are honest; and the wandering of concupiscence doth undermine the
simple mind.
[ 13 ] He, being made perfect in a short time, fulfilled a long time:
[ 14 ] For his soul pleased the Lord: therefore hasted he to take him
away from among the wicked.
[ 15 ] This the people saw, and understood it not, neither laid they
up this in their minds, That his grace and mercy is with his saints,
and that he hath respect unto his chosen.
[ 16 ] Thus the righteous that is dead shall condemn the ungodly
which are living; and youth that is soon perfected the many years
and old age of the unrighteous.
[ 17 ] For they shall see the end of the wise, and shall not
understand what God in his counsel hath decreed of him, and to
what end the Lord hath set him in safety.
[ 18 ] They shall see him, and despise him; but God shall laugh
them to scorn: and they shall hereafter be a vile carcase, and a
reproach among the dead for evermore.
[ 19 ] For he shall rend them, and cast them down headlong, that
they shall be speechless; and he shall shake them from the
foundation; and they shall be utterly laid waste, and be in sorrow;
and their memorial shall perish.
[ 20 ] And when they cast up the accounts of their sins, they shall
come with fear: and their own iniquities shall convince them to their
face.

Wis.5
[ 1 ] Then shall the righteous man stand in great boldness before
the face of such as have afflicted him, and made no account of his
labours.
[ 2 ] When they see it, they shall be troubled with terrible fear, and
shall be amazed at the strangeness of his salvation, so far beyond all
that they looked for.
[ 3 ] And they repenting and groaning for anguish of spirit shall say
within themselves, This was he, whom we had sometimes in
derision, and a proverb of reproach:
[ 4 ] We fools accounted his life madness, and his end to be without
honour:
[ 5 ] How is he numbered among the children of God, and his lot is
among the saints!
[ 6 ] Therefore have we erred from the way of truth, and the light of
righteousness hath not shined unto us, and the sun of righteousness
rose not upon us.
[ 7 ] We wearied ourselves in the way of wickedness and
destruction: yea, we have gone through deserts, where there lay no
way: but as for the way of the Lord, we have not known it.
[ 8 ] What hath pride profited us? or what good hath riches with our
vaunting brought us?
[ 9 ] All those things are passed away like a shadow, and as a post
that hasted by;
[ 10 ] And as a ship that passeth over the waves of the water, which
when it is gone by, the trace thereof cannot be found, neither the
pathway of the keel in the waves;
[ 11 ] Or as when a bird hath flown through the air, there is no
token of her way to be found, but the light air being beaten with the
stroke of her wings and parted with the violent noise and motion of
them, is passed through, and therein afterwards no sign where she
went is to be found;
[ 12 ] Or like as when an arrow is shot at a mark, it parteth the air,
which immediately cometh together again, so that a man cannot
know where it went through:
[ 13 ] Even so we in like manner, as soon as we were born, began
to draw to our end, and had no sign of virtue to shew; but were
consumed in our own wickedness.
[ 14 ] For the hope of the Godly is like dust that is blown away with
the wind; like a thin froth that is driven away with the storm; like as
the smoke which is dispersed here and there with a tempest, and
passeth away as the remembrance of a guest that tarrieth but a
day.
[ 15 ] But the righteous live for evermore; their reward also is with
the Lord, and the care of them is with the most High.
[ 16 ] Therefore shall they receive a glorious kingdom, and a
beautiful crown from the Lord's hand: for with his right hand shall he
cover them, and with his arm shall he protect them.
[ 17 ] He shall take to him his jealousy for complete armour, and
make the creature his weapon for the revenge of his
enemies.
[ 18 ] He shall put on righteousness as a breastplate, and true
judgment instead of an helmet.
[ 19 ] He shall take holiness for an invincible shield.
[ 20 ] His severe wrath shall he sharpen for a sword, and the world
shall fight with him against the unwise.
[ 21 ] Then shall the right aiming thunderbolts go abroad; and from
the clouds, as from a well drawn bow, shall they fly to the
mark.
[ 22 ] And hailstones full of wrath shall be cast as out of a stone
bow, and the water of the sea shall rage against them, and the
floods shall cruelly drown them.
[ 23 ] Yea, a mighty wind shall stand up against them, and like a
storm shall blow them away: thus iniquity shall lay waste the whole
earth, and ill dealing shall overthrow the thrones of the mighty.

Wis.6

[ 1 ] Hear therefore, O ye kings, and understand; learn, ye that be

judges of the ends of the earth.
[ 2 ] Give ear, ye that rule the people, and glory in the multitude of
nations.
[ 3 ] For power is given you of the Lord, and sovereignty from the
Highest, who shall try your works, and search out your
counsels.
[ 4 ] Because, being ministers of his kingdom, ye have not judged
aright, nor kept the law, nor walked after the counsel of
God;
[ 5 ] Horribly and speedily shall he come upon you: for a sharp
judgment shall be to them that be in high places.
[ 6 ] For mercy will soon pardon the meanest: but mighty men shall
be mightily tormented.
[ 7 ] For he which is Lord over all shall fear no man's person, neither
shall he stand in awe of any man's greatness: for he hath made the
small and great, and careth for all alike.
[ 8 ] But a sore trial shall come upon the mighty.
[ 9 ] Unto you therefore, O kings, do I speak, that ye may learn
wisdom, and not fall away.
[ 10 ] For they that keep holiness holily shall be judged holy: and
they that have learned such things shall find what to
answer.
[ 11 ] Wherefore set your affection upon my words; desire them,
and ye shall be instructed.
[ 12 ] Wisdom is glorious, and never fadeth away: yea, she is easily
seen of them that love her, and found of such as seek her.
[ 13 ] She preventeth them that desire her, in making herself first
known unto them.
[ 14 ] Whoso seeketh her early shall have no great travail: for he
shall find her sitting at his doors.
[ 15 ] To think therefore upon her is perfection of wisdom: and
whoso watcheth for her shall quickly be without care.
[ 16 ] For she goeth about seeking such as are worthy of her,
sheweth herself favourably unto them in the ways, and meeteth
them in every thought.
[ 17 ] For the very true beginning of her is the desire of discipline;
and the care of discipline is love;
[ 18 ] And love is the keeping of her laws; and the giving heed unto
her laws is the assurance of incorruption;
[ 19 ] And incorruption maketh us near unto God:
[ 20 ] Therefore the desire of wisdom bringeth to a kingdom.
[ 21 ] If your delight be then in thrones and sceptres, O ye kings of
the people, honour wisdom, that ye may reign for
evermore.
[ 22 ] As for wisdom, what she is, and how she came up, I will tell
you, and will not hide mysteries from you: but will seek her out from
the beginning of her nativity, and bring the knowledge of her into
light, and will not pass over the truth.
[ 23 ] Neither will I go with consuming envy; for such a man shall
have no fellowship with wisdom.
[ 24 ] But the multitude of the wise is the welfare of the world: and
a wise king is the upholding of the people.
[ 25 ] Receive therefore instruction through my words, and it shall
do you good.

Wis.7

[ 1 ] I myself also am a mortal man, like to all, and the offspring of

him that was first made of the earth,
[ 2 ] And in my mother's womb was fashioned to be flesh in the time
of ten months, being compacted in blood, of the seed of man, and
the pleasure that came with sleep.
[ 3 ] And when I was born, I drew in the common air, and fell upon
the earth, which is of like nature, and the first voice which I uttered
was crying, as all others do.
[ 4 ] I was nursed in swaddling clothes, and that with cares.
[ 5 ] For there is no king that had any other beginning of birth.
[ 6 ] For all men have one entrance into life, and the like going out.
[ 7 ] Wherefore I prayed, and understanding was given me: I called
upon God, and the spirit of wisdom came to me
[ 8 ] I preferred her before sceptres and thrones, and esteemed
riches nothing in comparison of her.
[ 9 ] Neither compared I unto her any precious stone, because all
gold in respect of her is as a little sand, and silver shall be counted
as clay before her.
[ 10 ] I loved her above health and beauty, and chose to have her
instead of light: for the light that cometh from her never goeth
out.
[ 11 ] All good things together came to me with her, and
innumerable riches in her hands.
[ 12 ] And I rejoiced in them all, because wisdom goeth before
them: and I knew not that she was the mother of them.
[ 13 ] I learned diligently, and do communicate her liberally: I do
not hide her riches.
[ 14 ] For she is a treasure unto men that never faileth: which they
that use become the friends of God, being commended for the gifts
that come from learning.
[ 15 ] God hath granted me to speak as I would, and to conceive as
is meet for the things that are given me: because it is he that
leadeth unto wisdom, and directeth the wise.
[ 16 ] For in his hand are both we and our words; all wisdom also,
and knowledge of workmanship.
[ 17 ] For he hath given me certain knowledge of the things that
are, namely, to know how the world was made, and the operation of
the elements:
[ 18 ] The beginning, ending, and midst of the times: the alterations
of the turning of the sun, and the change of seasons:
[ 19 ] The circuits of years, and the positions of stars:
[ 20 ] The natures of living creatures, and the furies of wild beasts:
the violence of winds, and the reasonings of men: the diversities of
plants and the virtues of roots:
[ 21 ] And all such things as are either secret or manifest, them I
know.
[ 22 ] For wisdom, which is the worker of all things, taught me: for
in her is an understanding spirit holy, one only, manifold, subtil,
lively, clear, undefiled, plain, not subject to hurt, loving the thing that
is good quick, which cannot be letted, ready to do good,
[ 23 ] Kind to man, steadfast, sure, free from care, having all power,
overseeing all things, and going through all understanding, pure,
and most subtil, spirits.
[ 24 ] For wisdom is more moving than any motion: she passeth and
goeth through all things by reason of her pureness.
[ 25 ] For she is the breath of the power of God, and a pure
influence flowing from the glory of the Almighty: therefore can no
defiled thing fall into her.
[ 26 ] For she is the brightness of the everlasting light, the
unspotted mirror of the power of God, and the image of his
goodness.
[ 27 ] And being but one, she can do all things: and remaining in
herself, she maketh all things new: and in all ages entering into holy
souls, she maketh them friends of God, and prophets.
[ 28 ] For God loveth none but him that dwelleth with wisdom.
[ 29 ] For she is more beautiful than the sun, and above all the
order of stars: being compared with the light, she is found before
it.
[ 30 ] For after this cometh night: but vice shall not prevail against
wisdom.

Wis.8

[ 1 ] Wisdom reacheth from one end to another mightily: and

sweetly doth she order all things.
[ 2 ] I loved her, and sought her out from my youth, I desired to
make her my spouse, and I was a lover of her beauty.
[ 3 ] In that she is conversant with God, she magnifieth her nobility:
yea, the Lord of all things himself loved her.
[ 4 ] For she is privy to the mysteries of the knowledge of God, and
a lover of his works.
[ 5 ] If riches be a possession to be desired in this life; what is richer
than wisdom, that worketh all things?
[ 6 ] And if prudence work; who of all that are is a more cunning
workman than she?
[ 7 ] And if a man love righteousness her labours are virtues: for she
teacheth temperance and prudence, justice and fortitude: which are
such things, as en can have nothing more profitable in their
life.
[ 8 ] If a man desire much experience, she knoweth things of old,
and conjectureth aright what is to come: she knoweth the subtilties
of speeches, and can expound dark sentences: she foreseeth signs
and wonders, and the events of seasons and times.
[ 9 ] Therefore I purposed to take her to me to live with me,
knowing that she would be a counsellor of good things, and a
comfort in cares and grief.
[ 10 ] For her sake I shall have estimation among the multitude, and
honour with the elders, though I be young.
[ 11 ] I shall be found of a quick conceit in judgment, and shall be
admired in the sight of great men.
[ 12 ] When I hold my tongue, they shall bide my leisure, and when
I speak, they shall give good ear unto me: if I talk much, they shall
lay their hands upon their mouth.
[ 13 ] Moreover by the means of her I shall obtain immortality, and
leave behind me an everlasting memorial to them that come after
me.
[ 14 ] I shall set the people in order, and the nations shall be subject
unto me.
[ 15 ] Horrible tyrants shall be afraid, when they do but hear of me;
I shall be found good among the multitude, and valiant in
war.
[ 16 ] After I am come into mine house, I will repose myself with
her: for her conversation hath no bitterness; and to live with her
hath no sorrow, but mirth and joy.
[ 17 ] Now when I considered these things in myself, and pondered
them in my heart, how that to be allied unto wisdom is
immortality;
[ 18 ] And great pleasure it is to have her friendship; and in the
works of her hands are infinite riches; and in the exercise of
conference with her, prudence; and in talking with her, a good
report; I went about seeking how to take her to me.
[ 19 ] For I was a witty child, and had a good spirit.
[ 20 ] Yea rather, being good, I came into a body undefiled.
[ 21 ] Nevertheless, when I perceived that I could not otherwise
obtain her, except God gave her me; and that was a point of wisdom
also to know whose gift she was; I prayed unto the Lord, and
besought him, and with my whole heart I said,

Wis.9

[ 1 ] O God of my fathers, and Lord of mercy, who hast made all

things with thy word,
[ 2 ] And ordained man through thy wisdom, that he should have
dominion over the creatures which thou hast made,
[ 3 ] And order the world according to equity and righteousness, and
execute judgment with an upright heart:
[ 4 ] Give me wisdom, that sitteth by thy throne; and reject me not
from among thy children:
[ 5 ] For I thy servant and son of thine handmaid am a feeble
person, and of a short time, and too young for the understanding of
judgment and laws.
[ 6 ] For though a man be never so perfect among the children of
men, yet if thy wisdom be not with him, he shall be nothing
regarded.
[ 7 ] Thou hast chosen me to be a king of thy people, and a judge
of thy sons and daughters:
[ 8 ] Thou hast commanded me to build a temple upon thy holy
mount, and an altar in the city wherein thou dwellest, a resemblance
of the holy tabernacle, which thou hast prepared from the
beginning.
[ 9 ] And wisdom was with thee: which knoweth thy works, and was
present when thou madest the world, and knew what was
acceptable in thy sight, and right in thy commandments.
[ 10 ] O send her out of thy holy heavens, and from the throne of
thy glory, that being present she may labour with me, that I may
know what is pleasing unto thee.
[ 11 ] For she knoweth and understandeth all things, and she shall
lead me soberly in my doings, and preserve me in her
power.
[ 12 ] So shall my works be acceptable, and then shall I judge thy
people righteously, and be worthy to sit in my father's seat.
[ 13 ] For what man is he that can know the counsel of God? or who
can think what the will of the Lord is?
[ 14 ] For the thoughts of mortal men are miserable, and our
devices are but uncertain.
[ 15 ] For the corruptible body presseth down the soul, and the
earthy tabernacle weigheth down the mind that museth upon many
things.
[ 16 ] And hardly do we guess aright at things that are upon earth,
and with labour do we find the things that are before us: but the
things that are in heaven who hath searched out?
[ 17 ] And thy counsel who hath known, except thou give wisdom,
and send thy Holy Spirit from above?
[ 18 ] For so the ways of them which lived on the earth were
reformed, and men were taught the things that are pleasing unto
thee, and were saved through wisdom.

Wis.10

[ 1 ] She preserved the first formed father of the world, that was
created alone, and brought him out of his fall,
[ 2 ] And gave him power to rule all things.
[ 3 ] But when the unrighteous went away from her in his anger, he
perished also in the fury wherewith he murdered his
brother.
[ 4 ] For whose cause the earth being drowned with the flood,
wisdom again preserved it, and directed the course of the righteous
in a piece of wood of small value.
[ 5 ] Moreover, the nations in their wicked conspiracy being
confounded, she found out the righteous, and preserved him
blameless unto God, and kept him strong against his tender
compassion toward his son.
[ 6 ] When the ungodly perished, she delivered the righteous man,
who fled from the fire which fell down upon the five cities.
[ 7 ] Of whose wickedness even to this day the waste land that
smoketh is a testimony, and plants bearing fruit that never come to
ripeness: and a standing pillar of salt is a monument of an
unbelieving soul.
[ 8 ] For regarding not wisdom, they gat not only this hurt, that they
knew not the things which were good; but also left behind them to
the world a memorial of their foolishness: so that in the things
wherein they offended they could not so much as be hid.
[ 9 ] Rut wisdom delivered from pain those that attended upon her.
[ 10 ] When the righteous fled from his brother's wrath she guided
him in right paths, shewed him the kingdom of God, and gave him
knowledge of holy things, made him rich in his travels, and
multiplied the fruit of his labours.
[ 11 ] In the covetousness of such as oppressed him she stood by
him, and made him rich.
[ 12 ] She defended him from his enemies, and kept him safe from
those that lay in wait, and in a sore conflict she gave him the
victory; that he might know that goodness is stronger than
all.
[ 13 ] When the righteous was sold, she forsook him not, but
delivered him from sin: she went down with him into the
pit,
[ 14 ] And left him not in bonds, till she brought him the sceptre of
the kingdom, and power against those that oppressed him: as for
them that had accused him, she shewed them to be liars, and gave
him perpetual glory.
[ 15 ] She delivered the righteous people and blameless seed from
the nation that oppressed them.
[ 16 ] She entered into the soul of the servant of the Lord, and
withstood dreadful kings in wonders and signs;
[ 17 ] Rendered to the righteous a reward of their labours, guided
them in a marvellous way, and was unto them for a cover by day,
and a light of stars in the night season;
[ 18 ] Brought them through the Red sea, and led them through
much water:
[ 19 ] But she drowned their enemies, and cast them up out of the
bottom of the deep.
[ 20 ] Therefore the righteous spoiled the ungodly, and praised thy
holy name, O Lord, and magnified with one accord thine hand, that
fought for them.
[ 21 ] For wisdom opened the mouth of the dumb, and made the
tongues of them that cannot speak eloquent.

Wis.11

[ 1 ] She prospered their works in the hand of the holy prophet.

[ 2 ] They went through the wilderness that was not inhabited, and
pitched tents in places where there lay no way.
[ 3 ] They stood against their enemies, and were avenged of their
adversaries.
[ 4 ] When they were thirsty, they called upon thee, and water was
given them out of the flinty rock, and their thirst was quenched out
of the hard stone.
[ 5 ] For by what things their enemies were punished, by the same
they in their need were benefited.
[ 6 ] For instead of of a perpetual running river troubled with foul
blood,
[ 7 ] For a manifest reproof of that commandment, whereby the
infants were slain, thou gavest unto them abundance of water by a
means which they hoped not for:
[ 8 ] Declaring by that thirst then how thou hadst punished their
adversaries.
[ 9 ] For when they were tried albeit but in mercy chastised, they
knew how the ungodly were judged in wrath and tormented,
thirsting in another manner than the just.
[ 10 ] For these thou didst admonish and try, as a father: but the
other, as a severe king, thou didst condemn and punish.
[ 11 ] Whether they were absent or present, they were vexed alike.
[ 12 ] For a double grief came upon them, and a groaning for the
remembrance of things past.
[ 13 ] For when they heard by their own punishments the other to
be benefited, they had some feeling of the Lord.
[ 14 ] For whom they respected with scorn, when he was long
before thrown out at the casting forth of the infants, him in the end,
when they saw what came to pass, they admired.
[ 15 ] But for the foolish devices of their wickedness, wherewith
being deceived they worshipped serpents void of reason, and vile
beasts, thou didst send a multitude of unreasonable beasts upon
them for vengeance;
[ 16 ] That they might know, that wherewithal a man sinneth, by
the same also shall he be punished.
[ 17 ] For thy Almighty hand, that made the world of matter without
form, wanted not means to send among them a multitude of bears
or fierce lions,
[ 18 ] Or unknown wild beasts, full of rage, newly created, breathing
out either a fiery vapour, or filthy scents of scattered smoke, or
shooting horrible sparkles out of their eyes:
[ 19 ] Whereof not only the harm might dispatch them at once, but
also the terrible sight utterly destroy them.
[ 20 ] Yea, and without these might they have fallen down with one
blast, being persecuted of vengeance, and scattered abroad through
the breath of thy power: but thou hast ordered all things in measure
and number and weight.
[ 21 ] For thou canst shew thy great strength at all times when thou
wilt; and who may withstand the power of thine arm?
[ 22 ] For the whole world before thee is as a little grain of the
balance, yea, as a drop of the morning dew that falleth down upon
the earth.
[ 23 ] But thou hast mercy upon all; for thou canst do all things, and
winkest at the sins of men, because they should amend.
[ 24 ] For thou lovest all the things that are, and abhorrest nothing
which thou hast made: for never wouldest thou have made any
thing, if thou hadst hated it.
[ 25 ] And how could any thing have endured, if it had not been thy
will? or been preserved, if not called by thee?
[ 26 ] But thou sparest all: for they are thine, O Lord, thou lover of
souls.

Wis.12

[ 1 ] For thine incorruptible Spirit is in all things.

[ 2 ] Therefore chastenest thou them by little and little that offend,
and warnest them by putting them in remembrance wherein they
have offended, that leaving their wickedness they may believe on
thee, O Lord.
[ 3 ] For it was thy will to destroy by the hands of our fathers both
those old inhabitants of thy holy land,
[ 4 ] Whom thou hatedst for doing most odious works of witchcrafts,
and wicked sacrifices;
[ 5 ] And also those merciless murderers of children, and devourers
of man's flesh, and the feasts of blood,
[ 6 ] With their priests out of the midst of their idolatrous crew, and
the parents, that killed with their own hands souls destitute of
help:
[ 7 ] That the land, which thou esteemedst above all other, might
receive a worthy colony of God's children.
[ 8 ] Nevertheless even those thou sparedst as men, and didst send
wasps, forerunners of thine host, to destroy them by little and
little.
[ 9 ] Not that thou wast unable to bring the ungodly under the hand
of the righteous in battle, or to destroy them at once with cruel
beasts, or with one rough word:
[ 10 ] But executing thy judgments upon them by little and little,
thou gavest them place of repentance, not being ignorant that they
were a naughty generation, and that their malice was bred in them,
and that their cogitation would never be changed.
[ 11 ] For it was a cursed seed from the beginning; neither didst
thou for fear of any man give them pardon for those things wherein
they sinned.
[ 12 ] For who shall say, What hast thou done? or who shall
withstand thy judgment? or who shall accuse thee for the nations
that perish, whom thou made? or who shall come to stand against
thee, to be revenged for the unrighteous men?
[ 13 ] For neither is there any God but thou that careth for all, to
whom thou mightest shew that thy judgment is not
unright.
[ 14 ] Neither shall king or tyrant be able to set his face against thee
for any whom thou hast punished.
[ 15 ] Forsomuch then as thou art righteous thyself, thou orderest
all things righteously: thinking it not agreeable with thy power to
condemn him that hath not deserved to be punished.
[ 16 ] For thy power is the beginning of righteousness, and because
thou art the Lord of all, it maketh thee to be gracious unto
all.
[ 17 ] For when men will not believe that thou art of a full power,
thou shewest thy strength, and among them that know it thou
makest their boldness manifest.
[ 18 ] But thou, mastering thy power, judgest with equity, and
orderest us with great favour: for thou mayest use power when thou
wilt.
[ 19 ] But by such works hast thou taught thy people that the just
man should be merciful, and hast made thy children to be of a good
hope that thou givest repentance for sins.
[ 20 ] For if thou didst punish the enemies of thy children, and the
condemned to death, with such deliberation, giving them time and
place, whereby they might be delivered from their malice:
[ 21 ] With how great circumspection didst thou judge thine own
sons, unto whose fathers thou hast sworn, and made covenants of
good promises?
[ 22 ] Therefore, whereas thou dost chasten us, thou scourgest our
enemies a thousand times more, to the intent that, when we judge,
we should carefully think of thy goodness, and when we ourselves
are judged, we should look for mercy.
[ 23 ] Wherefore, whereas men have lived dissolutely and
unrighteously, thou hast tormented them with their own
abominations.
[ 24 ] For they went astray very far in the ways of error, and held
them for gods, which even among the beasts of their enemies were
despised, being deceived, as children of no understanding.
[ 25 ] Therefore unto them, as to children without the use of
reason, thou didst send a judgment to mock them.
[ 26 ] But they that would not be reformed by that correction,
wherein he dallied with them, shall feel a judgment worthy of
God.
[ 27 ] For, look, for what things they grudged, when they were
punished, that is, for them whom they thought to be gods; [now]
being punished in them, when they saw it, they acknowledged him
to be the true God, whom before they denied to know: and
therefore came extreme damnation upon them.

Wis.13

[ 1 ] Surely vain are all men by nature, who are ignorant of God,
and could not out of the good things that are seen know him that is:
neither by considering the works did they acknowledge the
workmaster;
[ 2 ] But deemed either fire, or wind, or the swift air, or the circle of
the stars, or the violent water, or the lights of heaven, to be the
gods which govern the world.
[ 3 ] With whose beauty if they being delighted took them to be
gods; let them know how much better the Lord of them is: for the
first author of beauty hath created them.
[ 4 ] But if they were astonished at their power and virtue, let them
understand by them, how much mightier he is that made
them.
[ 5 ] For by the greatness and beauty of the creatures
proportionably the maker of them is seen.
[ 6 ] But yet for this they are the less to be blamed: for they
peradventure err, seeking God, and desirous to find him.
[ 7 ] For being conversant in his works they search him diligently,
and believe their sight: because the things are beautiful that are
seen.
[ 8 ] Howbeit neither are they to be pardoned.
[ 9 ] For if they were able to know so much, that they could aim at
the world; how did they not sooner find out the Lord
thereof?
[ 10 ] But miserable are they, and in dead things is their hope, who
call them gods, which are the works of men's hands, gold and silver,
to shew art in, and resemblances of beasts, or a stone good for
nothing, the work of an ancient hand.
[ 11 ] Now a carpenter that felleth timber, after he hath sawn down
a tree meet for the purpose, and taken off all the bark skilfully round
about, and hath wrought it handsomely, and made a vessel thereof
fit for the service of man's life;
[ 12 ] And after spending the refuse of his work to dress his meat,
hath filled himself;
[ 13 ] And taking the very refuse among those which served to no
use, being a crooked piece of wood, and full of knots, hath carved it
diligently, when he had nothing else to do, and formed it by the skill
of his understanding, and fashioned it to the image of a
man;
[ 14 ] Or made it like some vile beast, laying it over with vermilion,
and with paint colouring it red, and covering every spot
therein;
[ 15 ] And when he had made a convenient room for it, set it in a
wall, and made it fast with iron:
[ 16 ] For he provided for it that it might not fall, knowing that it
was unable to help itself; for it is an image, and hath need of
help:
[ 17 ] Then maketh he prayer for his goods, for his wife and
children, and is not ashamed to speak to that which hath no
life.
[ 18 ] For health he calleth upon that which is weak: for life prayeth
to that which is dead; for aid humbly beseecheth that which hath
least means to help: and for a good journey he asketh of that which
cannot set a foot forward:
[ 19 ] And for gaining and getting, and for good success of his
hands, asketh ability to do of him, that is most unable to do any
thing.

Wis.14

[ 1 ] Again, one preparing himself to sail, and about to pass through

the raging waves, calleth upon a piece of wood more rotten than the
vessel that carrieth him.
[ 2 ] For verily desire of gain devised that, and the workman built it
by his skill.
[ 3 ] But thy providence, O Father, governeth it: for thou hast made
a way in the sea, and a safe path in the waves;
[ 4 ] Shewing that thou canst save from all danger: yea, though a
man went to sea without art.
[ 5 ] Nevertheless thou wouldest not that the works of thy wisdom
should be idle, and therefore do men commit their lives to a small
piece of wood, and passing the rough sea in a weak vessel are
saved.
[ 6 ] For in the old time also, when the proud giants perished, the
hope of the world governed by thy hand escaped in a weak vessel,
and left to all ages a seed of generation.
[ 7 ] For blessed is the wood whereby righteousness cometh.
[ 8 ] But that which is made with hands is cursed, as well it, as he
that made it: he, because he made it; and it, because, being
corruptible, it was called god.
[ 9 ] For the ungodly and his ungodliness are both alike hateful unto
God.
[ 10 ] For that which is made shall be punished together with him
that made it.
[ 11 ] Therefore even upon the idols of the Gentiles shall there be a
visitation: because in the creature of God they are become an
abomination, and stumblingblocks to the souls of men, and a snare
to the feet of the unwise.
[ 12 ] For the devising of idols was the beginning of spiritual
fornication, and the invention of them the corruption of life.
[ 13 ] For neither were they from the beginning, neither shall they
be for ever.
[ 14 ] For by the vain glory of men they entered into the world, and
therefore shall they come shortly to an end.
[ 15 ] For a father afflicted with untimely mourning, when he hath
made an image of his child soon taken away, now honoured him as
a god, which was then a dead man, and delivered to those that were
under him ceremonies and sacrifices.
[ 16 ] Thus in process of time an ungodly custom grown strong was
kept as a law, and graven images were worshipped by the
commandments of kings.
[ 17 ] Whom men could not honour in presence, because they dwelt
far off, they took the counterfeit of his visage from far, and made an
express image of a king whom they honoured, to the end that by
this their forwardness they might flatter him that was absent, as if
he were present.
[ 18 ] Also the singular diligence of the artificer did help to set
forward the ignorant to more superstition.
[ 19 ] For he, peradventure willing to please one in authority, forced
all his skill to make the resemblance of the best fashion.
[ 20 ] And so the multitude, allured by the grace of the work, took
him now for a god, which a little before was but honoured.
[ 21 ] And this was an occasion to deceive the world: for men,
serving either calamity or tyranny, did ascribe unto stones and stocks
the incommunicable name.
[ 22 ] Moreover this was not enough for them, that they erred in the
knowledge of God; but whereas they lived in the great war of
ignorance, those so great plagues called they peace.
[ 23 ] For whilst they slew their children in sacrifices, or used secret
ceremonies, or made revellings of strange rites;
[ 24 ] They kept neither lives nor marriages any longer undefiled:
but either one slew another traiterously, or grieved him by
adultery.
[ 25 ] So that there reigned in all men without exception blood,
manslaughter, theft, and dissimulation, corruption, unfaithfulness,
tumults, perjury,
[ 26 ] Disquieting of good men, forgetfulness of good turns, defiling
of souls, changing of kind, disorder in marriages, adultery, and
shameless uncleanness.
[ 27 ] For the worshipping of idols not to be named is the beginning,
the cause, and the end, of all evil.
[ 28 ] For either they are mad when they be merry, or prophesy lies,
or live unjustly, or else lightly forswear themselves.
[ 29 ] For insomuch as their trust is in idols, which have no life;
though they swear falsely, yet they look not to be hurt.
[ 30 ] Howbeit for both causes shall they be justly punished: both
because they thought not well of God, giving heed unto idols, and
also unjustly swore in deceit, despising holiness.
[ 31 ] For it is not the power of them by whom they swear: but it is
the just vengeance of sinners, that punisheth always the offence of
the ungodly.

Wis.15

[ 1 ] But thou, O God, art gracious and true, longsuffering, and in

mercy ordering all things,
[ 2 ] For if we sin, we are thine, knowing thy power: but we will not
sin, knowing that we are counted thine.
[ 3 ] For to know thee is perfect righteousness: yea, to know thy
power is the root of immortality.
[ 4 ] For neither did the mischievous invention of men deceive us,
nor an image spotted with divers colours, the painter's fruitless
labour;
[ 5 ] The sight whereof enticeth fools to lust after it, and so they
desire the form of a dead image, that hath no breath.
[ 6 ] Both they that make them, they that desire them, and they
that worship them, are lovers of evil things, and are worthy to have
such things to trust upon.
[ 7 ] For the potter, tempering soft earth, fashioneth every vessel
with much labour for our service: yea, of the same clay he maketh
both the vessels that serve for clean uses, and likewise also all such
as serve to the contrary: but what is the use of either sort, the
potter himself is the judge.
[ 8 ] And employing his labours lewdly, he maketh a vain god of the
same clay, even he which a little before was made of earth himself,
and within a little while after returneth to the same, out when his life
which was lent him shall be demanded.
[ 9 ] Notwithstanding his care is, not that he shall have much labour,
nor that his life is short: but striveth to excel goldsmiths and
silversmiths, and endeavoureth to do like the workers in brass, and
counteth it his glory to make counterfeit things.
[ 10 ] His heart is ashes, his hope is more vile than earth, and his
life of less value than clay:
[ 11 ] Forasmuch as he knew not his Maker, and him that inspired
into him an active soul, and breathed in a living spirit.
[ 12 ] But they counted our life a pastime, and our time here a
market for gain: for, say they, we must be getting every way, though
it be by evil means.
[ 13 ] For this man, that of earthly matter maketh brittle vessels and
graven images, knoweth himself to offend above all others.
[ 14 ] And all the enemies of thy people, that hold them in
subjection, are most foolish, and are more miserable than very
babes.
[ 15 ] For they counted all the idols of the heathen to be gods:
which neither have the use of eyes to see, nor noses to draw breath,
nor ears to hear, nor fingers of hands to handle; and as for their
feet, they are slow to go.
[ 16 ] For man made them, and he that borrowed his own spirit
fashioned them: but no man can make a god like unto
himself.
[ 17 ] For being mortal, he worketh a dead thing with wicked hands:
for he himself is better than the things which he worshippeth:
whereas he lived once, but they never.
[ 18 ] Yea, they worshipped those beasts also that are most hateful:
for being compared together, some are worse than others.
[ 19 ] Neither are they beautiful, so much as to be desired in
respect of beasts: but they went without the praise of God and his
blessing.
Wis.16

[ 1 ] Therefore by the like were they punished worthily, and by the

multitude of beasts tormented.
[ 2 ] Instead of which punishment, dealing graciously with thine own
people, thou preparedst for them meat of a strange taste, even
quails to stir up their appetite:
[ 3 ] To the end that they, desiring food, might for the ugly sight of
the beasts sent among them lothe even that, which they must needs
desire; but these, suffering penury for a short space, might be made
partakers of a strange taste.
[ 4 ] For it was requisite, that upon them exercising tyranny should
come penury, which they could not avoid: but to these it should only
be shewed how their enemies were tormented.
[ 5 ] For when the horrible fierceness of beasts came upon these,
and they perished with the stings of crooked serpents, thy wrath
endured not for ever:
[ 6 ] But they were troubled for a small season, that they might be
admonished, having a sign of salvation, to put them in remembrance
of the commandment of thy law.
[ 7 ] For he that turned himself toward it was not saved by the thing
that he saw, but by thee, that art the Saviour of all.
[ 8 ] And in this thou madest thine enemies confess, that it is thou
who deliverest from all evil:
[ 9 ] For them the bitings of grasshoppers and flies killed, neither
was there found any remedy for their life: for they were worthy to
be punished by such.
[ 10 ] But thy sons not the very teeth of venomous dragons
overcame: for thy mercy was ever by them, and healed
them.
[ 11 ] For they were pricked, that they should remember thy words;
and were quickly saved, that not falling into deep forgetfulness, they
might be continually mindful of thy goodness.
[ 12 ] For it was neither herb, nor mollifying plaister, that restored
them to health: but thy word, O Lord, which healeth all
things.
[ 13 ] For thou hast power of life and death: thou leadest to the
gates of hell, and bringest up again.
[ 14 ] A man indeed killeth through his malice: and the spirit, when
it is gone forth, returneth not; neither the soul received up cometh
again.
[ 15 ] But it is not possible to escape thine hand.
[ 16 ] For the ungodly, that denied to know thee, were scourged by
the strength of thine arm: with strange rains, hails, and showers,
were they persecuted, that they could not avoid, and through fire
were they consumed.
[ 17 ] For, which is most to be wondered at, the fire had more force
in the water, that quencheth all things: for the world fighteth for the
righteous.
[ 18 ] For sometime the flame was mitigated, that it might not burn
up the beasts that were sent against the ungodly; but themselves
might see and perceive that they were persecuted with the
judgment of God.
[ 19 ] And at another time it burneth even in the midst of water
above the power of fire, that it might destroy the fruits of an unjust
land.
[ 20 ] Instead whereof thou feddest thine own people with angels'
food, and didst send them from heaven bread prepared without their
labour, able to content every man's delight, and agreeing to every
taste.
[ 21 ] For thy sustenance declared thy sweetness unto thy children,
and serving to the appetite of the eater, tempered itself to every
man's liking.
[ 22 ] But snow and ice endured the fire, and melted not, that they
might know that fire burning in the hail, and sparkling in the rain,
did destroy the fruits of the enemies.
[ 23 ] But this again did even forget his own strength, that the
righteous might be nourished.
[ 24 ] For the creature that serveth thee, who art the Maker
increaseth his strength against the unrighteous for their punishment,
and abateth his strength for the benefit of such as put their trust in
thee.
[ 25 ] Therefore even then was it altered into all fashions, and was
obedient to thy grace, that nourisheth all things, according to the
desire of them that had need:
[ 26 ] That thy children, O Lord, whom thou lovest, might know,
that it is not the growing of fruits that nourisheth man: but that it is
thy word, which preserveth them that put their trust in
thee.
[ 27 ] For that which was not destroyed of the fire, being warmed
with a little sunbeam, soon melted away:
[ 28 ] That it might be known, that we must prevent the sun to give
thee thanks, and at the dayspring pray unto thee.
[ 29 ] For the hope of the unthankful shall melt away as the winter's
hoar frost, and shall run away as unprofitable water.

Wis.17

[ 1 ] For great are thy judgments, and cannot be expressed:

therefore unnurtured souls have erred.
[ 2 ] For when unrighteous men thought to oppress the holy nation;
they being shut up in their houses, the prisoners of darkness, and
fettered with the bonds of a long night, lay there exiled from the
eternal providence.
[ 3 ] For while they supposed to lie hid in their secret sins, they
were scattered under a dark veil of forgetfulness, being horribly
astonished, and troubled with [strange] apparitions.
[ 4 ] For neither might the corner that held them keep them from
fear: but noises [as of waters] falling down sounded about them,
and sad visions appeared unto them with heavy
countenances.
[ 5 ] No power of the fire might give them light: neither could the
bright flames of the stars endure to lighten that horrible
night.
[ 6 ] Only there appeared unto them a fire kindled of itself, very
dreadful: for being much terrified, they thought the things which
they saw to be worse than the sight they saw not.
[ 7 ] As for the illusions of art magick, they were put down, and
their vaunting in wisdom was reproved with disgrace.
[ 8 ] For they, that promised to drive away terrors and troubles from
a sick soul, were sick themselves of fear, worthy to be laughed
at.
[ 9 ] For though no terrible thing did fear them; yet being scared
with beasts that passed by, and hissing of serpents,
[ 10 ] They died for fear, denying that they saw the air, which could
of no side be avoided.
[ 11 ] For wickedness, condemned by her own witness, is very
timorous, and being pressed with conscience, always forecasteth
grievous things.
[ 12 ] For fear is nothing else but a betraying of the succours which
reason offereth.
[ 13 ] And the expectation from within, being less, counteth the
ignorance more than the cause which bringeth the torment.
[ 14 ] But they sleeping the same sleep that night, which was
indeed intolerable, and which came upon them out of the bottoms of
inevitable hell,
[ 15 ] Were partly vexed with monstrous apparitions, and partly
fainted, their heart failing them: for a sudden fear, and not looked
for, came upon them.
[ 16 ] So then whosoever there fell down was straitly kept, shut up
in a prison without iron bars,
[ 17 ] For whether he were husbandman, or shepherd, or a labourer
in the field, he was overtaken, and endured that necessity, which
could not be avoided: for they were all bound with one chain of
darkness.
[ 18 ] Whether it were a whistling wind, or a melodious noise of
birds among the spreading branches, or a pleasing fall of water
running violently,
[ 19 ] Or a terrible sound of stones cast down, or a running that
could not be seen of skipping beasts, or a roaring voice of most
savage wild beasts, or a rebounding echo from the hollow
mountains; these things made them to swoon for fear.
[ 20 ] For the whole world shined with clear light, and none were
hindered in their labour:
[ 21 ] Over them only was spread an heavy night, an image of that
darkness which should afterward receive them: but yet were they
unto themselves more grievous than the darkness.

Wis.18

[ 1 ] Nevertheless thy saints had a very great light, whose voice

they hearing, and not seeing their shape, because they also had not
suffered the same things, they counted them happy.
[ 2 ] But for that they did not hurt them now, of whom they had
been wronged before, they thanked them, and besought them
pardon for that they had been enemies.
[ 3 ] Instead whereof thou gavest them a burning pillar of fire, both
to be a guide of the unknown journey, and an harmless sun to
entertain them honourably.
[ 4 ] For they were worthy to be deprived of light and imprisoned in
darkness, who had kept thy sons shut up, by whom the uncorrupt
light of the law was to be given unto the world.
[ 5 ] And when they had determined to slay the babes of the saints,
one child being cast forth, and saved, to reprove them, thou tookest
away the multitude of their children, and destroyedst them
altogether in a mighty water.
[ 6 ] Of that night were our fathers certified afore, that assuredly
knowing unto what oaths they had given credence, they might
afterwards be of good cheer.
[ 7 ] So of thy people was accepted both the salvation of the
righteous, and destruction of the enemies.
[ 8 ] For wherewith thou didst punish our adversaries, by the same
thou didst glorify us, whom thou hadst called.
[ 9 ] For the righteous children of good men did sacrifice secretly,
and with one consent made a holy law, that the saints should be like
partakers of the same good and evil, the fathers now singing out the
songs of praise.
[ 10 ] But on the other side there sounded an ill according cry of the
enemies, and a lamentable noise was carried abroad for children
that were bewailed.
[ 11 ] The master and the servant were punished after one manner;
and like as the king, so suffered the common person.
[ 12 ] So they all together had innumerable dead with one kind of
death; neither were the living sufficient to bury them: for in one
moment the noblest offspring of them was destroyed.
[ 13 ] For whereas they would not believe any thing by reason of
the enchantments; upon the destruction of the firstborn, they
acknowledged this people to be the sons of God.
[ 14 ] For while all things were in quiet silence, and that night was
in the midst of her swift course,
[ 15 ] Thine Almighty word leaped down from heaven out of thy
royal throne, as a fierce man of war into the midst of a land of
destruction,
[ 16 ] And brought thine unfeigned commandment as a sharp
sword, and standing up filled all things with death; and it touched
the heaven, but it stood upon the earth.
[ 17 ] Then suddenly visions of horrible dreams troubled them sore,
and terrors came upon them unlooked for
[ 18 ] And one thrown here, and another there, half dead, shewed
the cause of his death.
[ 19 ] For the dreams that troubled them did foreshew this, lest they
should perish, and not know why they were afflicted.
[ 20 ] Yea, the tasting of death touched the righteous also, and
there was a destruction of the multitude in the wilderness: but the
wrath endured not long.
[ 21 ] For then the blameless man made haste, and stood forth to
defend them; and bringing the shield of his proper ministry, even
prayer, and the propitiation of incense, set himself against the wrath,
and so brought the calamity to an end, declaring that he was thy
servant.
[ 22 ] So he overcame the destroyer, not with strength of body, nor
force of arms, but with a word subdued him that punished, alleging
the oaths and covenants made with the fathers.
[ 23 ] For when the dead were now fallen down by heaps one upon
another, standing between, he stayed the wrath, and parted the way
Another random document with
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refused to stir from home, even to take a drive or walk, unless he
were by her side.
‘I must congratulate you upon your husband,’ I said to her, as we
sat together on the second day of my visit. ‘I think he is one of the
finest fellows I ever came across, and seems as good as he is
handsome.’
‘Ah, he is, indeed!’ she replied, with ready enthusiasm; ‘and you
have seen the least part of him, uncle. It would be impossible for me
to tell you how good he is in all things. We have been married now
for more than ten years, and during that time I have never had an
unkind word from him, nor do I believe he has ever kept a thought
from me. He is as open as the day, and could not keep a secret if he
tried. Dear fellow!’ and something very like a tear twinkled in the
wife’s eyes.
‘Ay, ay,’ I replied, ‘that’s right. I don’t know much about matrimony,
my dear, but if man and wife never have a secret from one another
they can’t go far wrong. And now perhaps you will enlighten me a
little about these guests of yours, for there is such a number of them
that I feel quite confused.’
Justina passed her hand across her eyes and laughed.
‘Yes, that is dear Harry’s whim. He will fill the house at Christmas
from top to basement, and I let him have his way, though all my
visitors are not of my own choosing. With whom shall I commence,
uncle?’
We were sitting on a sofa together during the half-hour before
dinner, and one by one the guests, amounting perhaps to fifteen or
twenty, came lounging into the drawing-room.
‘Who, then, is that very handsome woman with the scarlet flower
in her hair?’
‘Oh, do you call her handsome?’ (I could tell at once from the tone
of Justina’s voice that the owner of the scarlet flower was no
favourite of hers.) ‘That is Lady Amabel Scott, a cousin of Harry’s:
indeed, if she were not, she should never come into my house. Now,
there’s a woman, uncle, whom I can’t bear—a forward, presuming,
flirting creature, with no desire on earth but to attract admiration.
Look how she’s dressed this evening—absurd, for a home party. I
wonder that her husband, Mr Warden Scott (that is he looking over
the photograph book), can allow her to go on so! It is quite
disgraceful. I consider a flirting married woman one of the most
dangerous members of society.’
‘But you can have no reason to fear her attacks,’ I said,
confidently.
The colour mounted to her face. My niece is not a pretty woman—
indeed, I had already wondered several times what made Trevor fall
in love with her—but this little touch of indignation improved her.
‘Of course not! But Lady Amabel spares no one, and dear Harry is
so good-natured that he refuses to see how conspicuous she makes
both him and herself. I have tried to convince him of it several times,
but he is too kind to think evil of any one, and so I must be as patient
as I can till she goes. Thank Heaven, she does not spend her
Christmas with us! For my part, I can’t understand how one can see
any beauty in a woman with a turned-up nose.’
‘Ho, ho!’ I thought to myself; ‘this is where the shoe pinches, is it?
And if a lady will secure an uncommonly good-looking and agreeable
man all to herself, she must expect to see others attempt to share
the prize with her.’
Poor Justina! With as many blessings as one would think heart
could desire, she was not above poisoning her life’s happiness by a
touch of jealousy; and so I pitied her. It is a terrible foe with which to
contend.
‘But this is but one off the list,’ I continued, wishing to divert her
mind from the contemplation of Sir Harry’s cousin. ‘Who are those
two dark girls standing together at the side table? and who is that
quiet-looking little lady who has just entered with the tall man in
spectacles?’
‘Oh, those—the girls—are the Misses Rushton; they are pretty, are
they not?—were considered quite the belles of last season—and the
old lady on the opposite side of the fireplace is their mother: their
father died some years since.’
‘But the gentleman in spectacles? He looks quite a character.’
‘Yes, and is considered so, but he is very good and awfully clever.
That is Professor Benson: you must know him and his wife too, the
“quiet-looking little lady,” as you called her just now. They are the
greatest friends I have in the world, and it was at their house that I
first met Harry. I am sure you would like Mary Benson, uncle; she is
shy, but has an immense deal in her, and is the kindest creature I
ever knew. You would get on capitally together. I must introduce you
to each other after dinner. And the professor and she are so
attached—quite a model couple, I can assure you.’
‘Indeed! But whom have we here?’ as the door was thrown open
to admit five gentlemen and two ladies.
‘Lord and Lady Mowbray; Colonel Green and his son and
daughter; Captain Mackay and Mr Cecil St John,’ whispered Lady
Trevor, and as she concluded dinner was announced, and our
dialogue ended.
As the only persons in whom my niece had expressed much
interest were Lady Amabel Scott and Mrs Benson, I took care to
observe these two ladies very narrowly during my leisure moments
at the dinner-table, and came to the conclusion that, so far as I could
judge, her estimate was not far wrong of either of them. Lady Amabel
was a decided beauty, notwithstanding the ‘turned-up nose’ of which
her hostess had spoken so contemptuously; it was also pretty
evident that she was a decided flirt. During my lengthened career of
five-and-sixty years, I had always been credited with having a keen
eye for the good points of a woman or a horse; but seldom had I met
with such vivid colouring, such flashing eyes, and such bright
speaking looks as now shone upon me across the table from the
cousin of Sir Harry Trevor. She was a lovely blonde, in the heyday of
her youth and beauty, and she used her power unsparingly and
without reserve. My observation quickened by what Justina’s flash of
jealousy had revealed, I now perceived, or thought I perceived, that
our host was by no means insensible to the attractions of his fair
guest, for, after conducting her in to dinner and placing her by his
side, he devoted every second not demanded by the rights of
hospitality to her amusement. Yet, Lady Amabel seemed anything
but desirous of engrossing his attention; on the contrary, her arrows
of wit flew far and wide, and her bright glances flashed much in the
same manner, some of their beams descending even upon me, spite
of my grey hairs and lack of acquaintanceship. One could easily
perceive that she was a universal favourite; but as Mr Warden Scott
seemed quite satisfied with the state of affairs, and calmly enjoyed
his dinner, whilst his wife’s admirers, in their fervent admiration,
neglected to eat theirs, I could not see that any one had a right to
complain, and came to the conclusion that my niece, like many
another of her sex, had permitted jealousy to blind her judgment.
I felt still more convinced of this when I turned to the contemplation
of the other lady to whom she had directed my attention—the
professor’s wife, who was her dearest friend, and through whose
means she had first met Sir Harry Trevor. There was certainly
nothing to excite the evil passions of either man or woman in Mrs
Benson. Small and insignificant in figure, she was not even pleasing
in countenance; indeed, I voted her altogether uninteresting, until
she suddenly raised two large brown eyes, soft as a spaniel’s and
shy as a deer’s, and regarded me. She dropped them again
instantly, but as she did so I observed that her lashes were long and
dark, and looked the longer and darker for resting on perfectly pallid
cheeks. Au reste, Mrs Benson had not a feature that would repay the
trouble of looking at twice, and the plain, dark dress she wore still
farther detracted from her appearance. But she looked a good, quiet,
harmless little thing, who, if she really possessed the sense Lady
Trevor attributed to her, might prove a very valuable and worthy
friend. But she was certainly not the style of woman to cause any
one a heartache, or to make a wife rue the day she met her.
And indeed, when, dinner being over, we joined the ladies in the
drawing-room, and I saw her surrounded by my grand-nephews and
nieces, who seemed by one accord to have singled her out for
persecution, I thought she looked much more like a governess or
some one in a dependent situation than the most welcome guest at
Durham Hall. Sir Harry seemed pleased with her notice of his
children, for he took a seat by her side and entered into conversation
with her, the first time that I had seen him pay his wife’s friend so
open a compliment. Now I watched eagerly for the ‘great deal’ that
by Justina’s account was ‘in her;’ but I was disappointed, for she
seemed disinclined for a tête-à-tête, and after a few futile attempts to
draw her out, I was not surprised to see her host quit his position and
wander after Lady Amabel Scott into the back drawing-room, whither
my niece’s eyes followed him in a restless and uneasy manner.
‘I promised to introduce you to Mrs Benson, uncle,’ she exclaimed,
as she perceived that I was watching her, and willy-nilly, I was taken
forcible possession of, and soon found myself occupying the chair
left vacant by Sir Harry.
‘We can so very seldom persuade Mary to stay with us; and when
she does come, her visits are so brief that we are obliged to make a
great deal of them whilst they last,’ was part of Justina’s introduction
speech; and on that hint I commenced to speak of the charms of the
country and my wonder that Mrs Benson did not oftener take
occasion to enjoy them. But barely an answer, far less an idea, could
I extract from my niece’s valued friend. Mrs Benson’s brown eyes
were not once raised to meet mine, and the replies which I forced
from her lips came in monosyllables. I tried another theme, but with
no better success; and had just decided that she was as stupid as
she looked, when, to my great relief, the professor arrived with a
message from Lady Trevor, and bore his wife off into another room.
Several days passed without bringing forth much incident. The
gentlemen spent most of their time in the shooting-covers or hunting-
field, and did not meet the ladies until evening re-assembled them in
the drawing-room; on which occasions I used to get as far as I could
from Lady Trevor and the professor’s wife, and in consequence
generally found myself in the vicinity of Sir Harry and Lady Amabel.
Yet, free and intimate as seemed their intercourse with one another,
and narrowly as, in Justina’s interest, I watched them, I could
perceive nothing in their conduct which was not justified by their
relationship, and treated it as a matter of the smallest consequence,
until one afternoon about a fortnight after my arrival at Durham Hall.
 With the exception of Sir Harry himself, who had business to
transact with his bailiff, we had all been out shooting, and as, after a
hard day’s work, I was toiling up to my bedroom to dress for dinner, I
had occasion to pass the study appropriated to the master of the
house, and with a sudden desire to give him an account of our sport,
incontinently turned the handle of the door. As I did so I heard an
exclamation and the rustle of a woman’s dress, which were sufficient
to make me halt upon the threshold of the half-opened door, and ask
if I might enter.
‘Come in, by all means,’ exclaimed Sir Harry. He was lying back
indolently in his arm-chair beside a table strewn with books and
papers,—a little flushed, perhaps, but otherwise himself, and, to my
astonishment, quite alone. Yet I was positive that I had heard the
unmistakable sound of a woman’s dress sweeping the carpet.
Involuntarily I glanced around the room; but there was no egress.
Sir Harry caught my look of inquiry, and seemed annoyed. ‘What
are you staring at, Wilmer?’ he demanded, in the curtest tone I had
yet heard from him.
‘May I not glance round your den?’ I replied courteously. ‘I have
not had the honour of seeing it before.’
Then I entered into a few details with him concerning the day’s
sport we had enjoyed; but I took care to be brief, for I saw that my
presence there displeased him, and I could not get the rustle of that
dress out of my mind. As I concluded, and with some remark upon
the lateness of the hour, turned to leave the room, a cough sounded
from behind a large Indian screen which stood in one corner. It was
the faintest, most subdued of coughs, but sufficiently tangible to be
sworn to; and as it fell upon my ear I could not help a change of
countenance.
‘All right!’ said my host, with affected nonchalance, as he rose and
almost backed me to the door. ‘We’ll have a talk over all this after
dinner, Wilmer; sorry I wasn’t with you; but, as you say, it’s late. Au
revoir!’ and simultaneously the study door closed upon me.
 I was very much startled and very much shocked. I had not a
doubt that I was correct in my surmise that Sir Harry had some
visitor in his room whom he had thought it necessary to conceal from
me; and though Hope suggested that it might have been his wife,
Common Sense rose up to refute so absurd an idea. Added to
which, I had not traversed twenty yards after leaving him before I
met Justina attired in her walking things, and just returning from a
stroll round the garden.
‘Is it very late, uncle?’ she demanded, with a smile, as we
encountered one another. ‘I have been out with the children. Have
you seen Mary or Lady Amabel? I am afraid they will think I have
neglected them shamefully this afternoon.’
I answered her questions indifferently, thinking the while that she
had no occasion to blame herself for not having paid sufficient
attention to Lady Amabel Scott, for that it was she whom I had
surprised tête-à-tête with Sir Harry Trevor, I had not a shadow of
doubt.
Well, I was not the one to judge them, nor to bring them to
judgment; but I thought very hard things of Sir Harry’s cousin during
the dressing hour, and pitied my poor niece, who must some day
inevitably learn that it was a true instinct which had made her shrink
from her beautiful guest. And during the evening which followed my
discovery, I turned with disgust from the lightning glances which
darted from Lady Amabel’s blue eyes, and the arch smile which
helped to make them so seductive. I could no longer think her beauty
harmless: the red curves of her mouth were cruel serpents in my
mind; poisoned arrows flew from her lips; there was no innocence
left in look, or word, or action; and I found myself turning with a
sensation of relief to gaze at the Quaker-like attire, the downcast
eyes, and modest appearance of the professor’s wife, whilst I
inwardly blamed myself for having ever been so foolish as to be
gulled into believing that the flaunting beauty of Lady Amabel Scott
was superior to Mrs Benson’s quiet graces.
I did not have much to say to Sir Harry Trevor during that evening:
indignation for his deception towards Justina made me disinclined to
speak to him, whilst he, for his part, seemed anxious to avoid me.
For a few days more all went on as usual: my host’s affability soon
returned, and every one, my niece included, appeared so smiling
and contented, that I almost began to think I must have been
mistaken, and that there could have been no real motive for
concealing Lady Amabel in Sir Harry’s room, except perhaps her
own girlish love of fun. I tried to think the best I could of both of them;
and a day came but too soon when I was thankful that I had so tried.
It was about a week after the little incident related above that Sir
Harry Trevor was shooting over his preserves, accompanied by his
guests. We had had a capital day’s sport and an excellent luncheon
—at which latter some of the ladies had condescended to join us—
and were beating the last cover preparatory to a return to Durham
Hall, when the report of a firearm was quickly followed by the news
that Sir Harry Trevor had been wounded.
I was separated from him by a couple of fields when I first heard of
the accident, but it did not take me long to reach his side, when I
perceived, to my horror, that he was fast bleeding to death, having
been shot through the lungs by the discharge of his own gun whilst
getting through the hedge. I had seen men die from gunshot wounds
received under various circumstances, and I felt sure that Sir Harry’s
hours were numbered; yet, of course, all that was possible was done
at once, and five minutes had not elapsed before messengers were
flying in all directions—one for the doctor, another for the carriage, a
third for cordials to support the sinking man; whilst I entreated Mr
Warden Scott and several others to walk back to the Hall as though
nothing particular had happened, and try to prevent the immediate
circulation of the full extent of the bad news. Meanwhile, I remained
by the wounded man, who evidently suspected, by the sinking within
him, that he was dying.
‘Wilmer!’ he gasped, ‘old fellow, have I settled my hash?’
‘I trust not, Sir Harry,’ I commenced; but I suppose that my eyes
contradicted my words.
‘Don’t say any more,’ he replied, with difficulty. ‘My head a little
higher—thanks. I feel it will soon be over.’
 And so he lay for a few moments, supported on my knee, with his
fast glazing eyes turned upward to the December sky, and his breath
coming in short, quick jerks.
The men who had remained with me seemed as though they could
not endure the sight of his sufferings; one or two gazed at him
speechless and almost as pale as himself; but the majority had
turned away to hide their feelings.
‘Wilmer,’ he whispered presently, but in a much fainter voice than
before, ‘it’s coming fast now;’ and then, to my surprise, just as I
thought he was about to draw his last breath, he suddenly broke into
speech that was almost a sob—‘Oh, if I could only have seen her
again! I wouldn’t mind it half so much if I could but have seen Pet
again! Call her, Wilmer; in God’s name, call her!—call Pet to me—
only once again—only once! Pet! Pet! Pet!’ And with that name upon
his lips, each time uttered in a shorter and fainter voice, and with a
wild look of entreaty in his eyes, Sir Harry Trevor let his head drop
back heavily upon my knees and died.
When the doctor and the carriage arrived, the only thing left for us
to do was to convey the corpse of its master back to Durham Hall.
For the first few hours I was too much shocked by the suddenness
of the blow which had descended on us to have leisure to think of
anything else. In one moment the house of feasting had been turned
into the house of mourning; and frightened guests were looking into
each other’s faces, and wondering what would be the correct thing
for them to do. Of my poor niece I saw nothing. The medical man
had undertaken to break the news of her bereavement to her, and I
confess that I was sufficiently cowardly to shrink from encountering
the sorrow which I could do nothing to mitigate.
As I passed along the silent corridors (lately so full of mirth and
revelry) that evening, I met servants and travelling-cases at every
turn, by which I concluded, and rightly, that the Christmas guests
were about at once to take their departure; and on rising in the
morning, I found that, with the exception of Lady Amabel and Mr
Warden Scott, who, as relatives of the deceased, intended to remain
until after the funeral, and the professor and Mrs Benson, on whose
delicate frame the shock of Sir Harry’s death was said to have had
such an effect as to render her unfit for travelling, Durham Hall was
clear.
Lady Amabel had wept herself almost dry: her eyes were swollen,
her features disfigured, her whole appearance changed from the
violence of her grief, and every ten minutes she was ready to burst
out afresh.
We had not been together half-an-hour on the following morning
before she was sobbing by my side, entreating me to give her every
particular of ‘poor dear Harry’s’ death, and to say if there was
anything she could do for Justina or the children; and
notwithstanding the repugnance with which her conduct had inspired
me, I could not repulse her then. However she had sinned, the crime
and its occasion were both past—Sir Harry was laid out ready for his
burial, and she was grieving for him.
I am an old man, long past such follies myself, and I hope I am a
virtuous man; but all my virtue could not prevent my pitying Lady
Amabel in her distress, and affording her such comfort as was
possible. And so (a little curiosity still mingling with my compassion) I
related to her in detail, whilst I narrowly watched her features, the
last words which had been spoken by her cousin. But if she guessed
for whom that dying entreaty had been urged, she did not betray
herself.
‘Poor fellow!’ was her only remark as she wiped her streaming
eyes—‘poor dear Harry! Used he to call Justina “Pet?” I never heard
him do so.’
Whereupon I decided that Lady Amabel was too politic to be very
miserable, and that my pity had been wasted on her.
Of Mrs Benson I saw nothing, but the professor talked about
attending the funeral, and therefore I concluded that my niece had
invited them, being such intimate friends, to remain for that
ceremony.
On the afternoon of the same day I was told that Justina desired to
speak to me. I sought the room where she was sitting, with folded
hands and darkened windows, with nervous reluctance; but I need
not have dreaded a scene, for her grief was too great for outward
show, and I found her in a state which appeared to me unnaturally
calm.
‘Uncle,’ she said, after a moment’s pause, during which we had
silently shaken hands, ‘will you take these keys and go down into—
into—his study for me, and bring up the desks and papers which you
will find in the escritoire? I do not like to send a servant.’
I took the keys which she extended to me, and, not able to trust
myself to answer, kissed her forehead and left the room again. As I
turned the handle of the study door I shuddered, the action so vividly
recalled to me the first and last occasion upon which I had done so.
The afternoon was now far advanced, and dusk was approaching:
the blinds of the study windows also were pulled down, which
caused the room to appear almost in darkness. As I groped my way
toward the escritoire I stumbled over some article lying across my
path, something which lay extended on the hearth-rug, and which
even by that feeble light I could discern was a prostrated body.
With my mind full of murderous accidents, I rushed to the window
and drew up the blind, when to my astonishment I found that the
person over whom I had nearly fallen was no other than poor little
Mrs Benson, who was lying in a dead faint before the arm-chair.
Fainting women not being half so much in my line as wounded men,
I felt quite uncertain in this case how to act, and without considering
how the professor’s wife had come to be in the study or for what
reason, my first impulse was to ring for assistance. But a second
thought, which came I know not how or whence, made me lift the
fragile, senseless body in my arms and carry it outside the study
door into the passage before I called for help, which then I did lustily,
and female servants came and bore the poor ‘quiet-looking little lady’
away to her own apartments and the care of her husband, leaving
me free to execute the errand upon which I had been sent. Still, as I
collected the desk and papers required by my niece, I could not help
reflecting on the circumstance I have related as being a strange one,
and could only account for it in my own mind by the probable fact
that Mrs Benson had required some book from the late Sir Harry’s
shelves, and, miscalculating her strength, had left her bedroom with
the design of fetching it, and failed before she could accomplish her
purpose. I heard several comments made on the occurrence, during
the melancholy meal which we now called ‘dinner,’ by her husband
and Lady Amabel Scott, and they both agreed with me as to the
probable reason of it; and as soon as the cloth was removed the
professor left us to spend the evening with his wife, who was
considered sufficiently ill to require medical attendance.
We were a rather silent trio in the drawing-room—Lady Amabel,
Mr Scott, and I—for ordinary occupations seemed forbidden, and
every topic harped back to the miserable accident which had left the
hall without a master. The servants with lengthened faces, as though
attending a funeral, had dumbly proffered us tea and coffee, and we
had drunk them without considering whether we required them, so
welcome seemed anything to do; and I was seriously considering
whether it would appear discourteous in me to leave the hall and
return on the day of the funeral, when a circumstance occurred
which proved more than sufficiently exciting for all of us.
I had taken the desk, papers, and keys, and delivered them into
my niece’s hands, and I had ventured at the same time to ask
whether it would not be a comfort to her to see Mrs Benson or some
other friend, instead of sitting in utter loneliness and gloom. But
Justina had visibly shrunk from the proposal; more than that, she
had begged me not to renew it. ‘I sent for you, uncle,’ she said,
‘because I needed help, but don’t let any one make it a precedent for
trying to see me. I couldn’t speak to any one: it would drive me mad.
Leave me alone: my only relief is in solitude and prayer.’
And so I had left her, feeling that doubtless she was right, and
communicating her wishes on the subject to Lady Amabel Scott, who
had several times expressed a desire to gain admittance to her
widowed cousin.
Judge, then, of our surprise, equal and unmitigated, when, as we
sat in the drawing-room that evening, the door silently opened and
Justina stood before us! If she had been the ghost of Sir Harry
himself risen from the dead, she could hardly have given us a
greater start.
‘Justina!’ I exclaimed, but as she advanced toward us with her
eyes riveted on Lady Amabel, I saw that something more than usual
was the matter, and drew backward. Justina’s countenance was
deadly pale; her dark hair, unbound from the night before, flowed
over the white dressing-gown which she had worn all day; and stern
and rigid she walked into the midst of our little circle, holding a
packet of letters in her hand.
‘Amabel Scott,’ she hissed rather than said as she fixed a look of
perfect hatred on the beautiful face of her dead husband’s cousin, ‘I
have detected you. You made me miserable whilst he was alive—
you know it—with your bold looks and your forward manners and
your shameless, open attentions; but it is my turn now, and before
your husband I will tell you that—’
‘Hush, hush, Justina!’ I exclaimed, fearful what revelation might
not be coming next. ‘You are forgetting yourself; this is no time for
such explanations. Remember what lies upstairs.’
‘Let her go on,’ interposed Lady Amabel Scott, with wide-open,
astonished eyes; ‘I am not afraid. I wish to hear of what she accuses
me.’
She had risen from her seat as soon as she understood the
purport of the widow’s speech, and crossed over to her husband’s
side; and knowing what I did of her, I was yet glad to see that
Warden Scott threw his arm about her for encouragement and
support. She may have been thoughtless and faulty, but she was so
young, and he was gone. Besides, no man can stand by calmly and
see one woman pitted against another.
‘Of what do you accuse me?’ demanded Lady Amabel, with
heightened colour.
‘Of what do I accuse you?’ almost screamed Justina. ‘Of perfidy, of
treachery, toward him,’ pointing to Mr Warden Scott, ‘and toward me.
I accuse you of attempting to win my dear husband’s affections from
me—which you never did, thank God!—and of rendering this home
as desolate as it was happy. But you failed—you failed!’
‘Where are your proofs?’ said the other woman, quietly.
‘There!’ exclaimed my niece, as she threw some four or five letters
down upon the table—‘there! I brought them for your husband to
peruse. He kept them; generous and good as he was, he would have
spared you an open exposure, but I have no such feelings in the
matter. Are you to go from this house into another to pursue the
same course of action, and perhaps with better success? No, not if I
can prevent it!’
Her jealousy, rage, and grief seemed to have overpowered her;
Justina was almost beside herself. I entreated her to retire, but it was
of no avail. ‘Not till Warden Scott tells me what he thinks of his wife
writing those letters with a view to seducing the affections of a
married man,’ she persisted.
Mr Scott turned the letters over carelessly.
‘They are not from my wife,’ he quietly replied.
‘Do you dare to say so?’ exclaimed Justina to Lady Amabel.
‘Certainly. I never wrote one of them. I have never written a letter
to Harry since he was married. I have never had any occasion to do
so.’
The widow turned towards me with an ashen-grey face, which it
was pitiful to behold.
‘Whose are they, then?’ she whispered, hoarsely.
‘I do not know, my dear,’ I replied; ‘surely it matters little now. You
will be ill if you excite yourself in this manner. Let me conduct you
back to your room;’ but before I could do so she had fallen in a fit at
my feet. Of course, all then was hurry and confusion, and when I
returned to the drawing-room I found Lady Amabel crying in her
husband’s arms.
‘Oh, Warden dear,’ she was saying, ‘I shall never forgive myself.
This all comes of my wretched flirting. It’s no good your shaking your
head; you know I flirt, and so does every one else; but I never meant
anything by it, darling, and I thought all the world knew how much I
loved you.’
‘Don’t be a goose!’ replied her husband, as he put her gently away
from him; ‘but if you think I’m going to let you remain in this house
after what that d—d woman—Oh, here is General Wilmer! Well,
General, after the very unpleasant manner in which your niece has
been entertaining us, you will not be surprised to hear that I shall
take my wife away from Durham Hall to-night. When Lady Trevor
comes to her senses you will perhaps kindly explain to her the
reason of our departure, for nothing under such an insult should
have prevented my paying my last respects to the memory of a man
who never behaved otherwise than as a gentleman to either of us.’
I apologised for Justina as best I was able, represented that her
mind must really have become unhinged by her late trouble, and that
she would probably be very sorry for what she had said by-and-by;
but I was not surprised that my arguments had no avail in inducing
Mr Scott to permit his wife to remain at Durham Hall, and in a few
hours they had left the house. When they were gone I took up the
letters, which still lay upon the table, and examined them. They were
addressed to Sir Harry, written evidently in a woman’s hand, and
teemed with expressions of the warmest affection. I was not
surprised that the perusal of them had excited poor Justina’s wrathful
jealousy. Turning to the signatures, I found that they all concluded
with the same words, ‘Your loving and faithful Pet.’ In a moment my
mind had flown back to the dying speech of poor Sir Harry, and had
absolved Lady Amabel Scott from all my former suspicions. She was
not the woman who had penned these letters; she had not been in
the last thoughts of her cousin. Who, then, had been? That was a
mystery on which Death had set his seal, perhaps for ever. Before I
retired to rest that night I inquired for my poor niece, and heard that
she had Mrs Benson with her. I was glad of that: the women were
fond of one another, and Justina, I felt, would pour all her griefs into
the sympathising ear of the professor’s wife, and derive comfort from
weeping over them afresh with her. But after I had got into bed I
remembered that I had left the letters lying on the drawing-room
table, where they would be liable to be inspected by the servants,
and blow the breath of the family scandal far and wide. It was much
past midnight, for I had sat up late, and all the household, if not
asleep, had retired to their own apartments; and so, wrapping a
dressing-gown about me, and thrusting my feet into slippers, I lighted
my candle, and descended noiselessly to the lower apartments. But
when I reached the drawing-room the letters were gone: neither on
the table nor the ottoman nor the floor were they to be seen; and so,
vexed at my own carelessness, but concluding that the servants,
when extinguishing the lights, had perceived and put the papers
away in some place of safety, I prepared to return to my own room.
The bedrooms at Durham Hall were situated on either side of a
corridor, and fearful of rousing the family or being caught in
deshabile, I trod on tiptoe, shading my candle with my hand. It was
owing to this circumstance, I suppose, that I had reached the centre
of the corridor without causing the least suspicion of my presence;
but as I passed by the apartment where the remains of my
unfortunate host lay ready for burial, the door suddenly opened and
a light appeared upon the threshold. I halted, expecting to see
emerge the figure of my widowed niece, but lifting my eyes, to my
astonishment I encountered the shrinking, almost terrified, gaze of
the professor’s wife. Robed in her night-dress, pallid as the corpse
which lay within, her large frightened eyes apparently the only living
things about her, she stood staring at me as though she had been
entranced. Her brown hair floated over her shoulders, her feet were
bare; one hand held a lighted candle, the other grasped the packet
of letters of which I had been in search. So we stood for a moment
regarding one another—I taking in these small but important details;
she looking as though she implored my mercy and forbearance. And
then I drew back with the gesture of respect due to her sex, and,
clad in her white dress, she swept past me like a startled spirit and
disappeared.
I gained my own room, but it was not to sleep. A thousand
incidents, insignificant in themselves, but powerful when welded into
one, sprang up in my mind to convince me that Justina and I and
everybody had been on a wrong tack, and that in the professor’s
wife, the ‘quiet-looking little lady’ with her Quaker-like robes,
downcast eyes and modest appearance, in the ‘best friend’ that my
niece had ever possessed, I had discovered the writer of those
letters, the concealed visitor in Sir Harry’s room, the ‘Pet’ whose
name had been the last sound heard to issue from his dying lips. For
many hours I lay awake pondering over the best course for me to
pursue. I could not bear the thought of undeceiving my poor niece,
whose heart had already suffered so much; besides, it seemed like
sacrilege to drag to light the secrets of the dead. At the same time I
felt that Mrs Benson should receive some hint that her presence in
Durham Hall, at that juncture, if desired, was no longer desirable.
And the next day, finding she was not likely to accord me an
interview, I made the reception of the missing letters a pretext for
demanding one. She came to her room door holding them in her
hand, and the marks of trouble were so distinct in her face that I had
to summon all my courage to go through the task which I considered
my duty.
‘You found these in the drawing-room last night?’ I said, as I
received them from her.
‘I did,’ she answered, but her voice trembled and her lips were
very white. She seemed to know by instinct what was coming.
‘And you went to find them because they are your own?’ She
made no answer. ‘Mrs Benson, I know your secret, but I will respect
it on one condition—that you leave the Hall as soon as possible. You
must be aware that this is no place for you.’
‘I never wished to come,’ she answered, weeping.
‘I can believe it, but for the sake of your friend, of your husband, of
yourself, quit it as soon as possible. Here are your letters—you had
better burn them. I only wished to ascertain that they were yours.’
‘General Wilmer—’ she commenced gaspingly, and then she
turned away and could say no more.
‘Do you wish to speak to me?’ I asked her gently.
‘No—nothing; it is useless,’ she answered with a tearless,
despairing grief which was far more shocking to behold than either
Justina’s or Lady Amabel’s. ‘He is gone, and there is nothing left; but
thank you for your forbearance—and good-bye.’
So we parted, and to this day, excepting that she is released from
all that could annoy or worry her, I have learned nothing more. How
long they loved, how much or in what degree of guilt or innocence, I
neither know nor have cared to guess at; it is sufficient for me that it
was so, and that while Justina was accusing the beautiful Lady
Amabel Scott of attempting to win her husband’s heart from her, it
had been given away long before to the woman whom she termed
her dearest friend—to the woman who had apparently no beauty, or
wit, or accomplishments with which to steal away a man’s love from
its rightful owner, but who nevertheless was his ‘loving and faithful
Pet,’ and the last thought upon his dying lips.
Professor and Mrs Benson never returned to Durham Hall. It was
not long afterwards that I heard from my niece that his wife’s failing
health had compelled the professor to go abroad; and to-day she
writes me news from Nice that Mrs Benson is dead. Poor Pet! I
wonder if those scared brown eyes have lost their frightened look in
heaven?
I believe that Justina has made an ample apology for her rudeness
to Lady Amabel and Mr Warden Scott. I know I represented that it
was her duty to do so, and that she promised it should be done. As
for herself, she is gradually recovering from the effects of her
bereavement, and finding comfort in the society of her sons and
daughters; and perhaps, amongst the surprises which I have already
spoken of as likely to await us in another sphere, they will not be
least which prove how very soon we have been forgotten by those
we left in the world behind us.
 CHIT-CHAT FROM ANDALUSIA.
A couple of springs ago, business compelling some friends of mine
to cross over into Spain, I gladly accepted the cordial invitation they
extended to me to visit with them that ‘splendid realm of old
romance.’
Our destination was Utrera, a small town situated between Seville
and Xeres, and lying in the midst of those vast plains so often
mentioned in the Conquest of Granada.
I confess that I was rather disappointed to find how hurriedly we
passed through Madrid and Seville, and I longed to be permitted to
linger for a little space within their walls; but ours was not entirely a
party of pleasure, and a diversion was soon created in my thoughts
by our arrival at Utrera, which, from a distance, presented a most
Oriental appearance. The houses, many of which are built in the
Moorish fashion and dazzlingly white, stand out clearly defined
against the deep blue southern sky; the tall tower of Santiago, with
little perhaps but its unusual height to recommend it to a stranger’s
notice, has, nevertheless, an imposing appearance; and even a palm
tree, which, solitary and alone, rears its stately head in the centre of
the town, puts in its claim for adding in no small degree to the effect
of the whole picture. Notwithstanding, with all the combined
advantages of white houses, tall towers, solitary palm trees and
romantic situations, I would advise no one who is not a traveller at
heart or intent upon his worldly profit to fix his residence in this
primitive little Andalusian town.
 We first took up our quarters at the posada, with the intention of
remaining there during our stay, but were soon obliged to abandon
the idea, for, though the best inn in Utrera, it was most
uncomfortable, and noisy beyond description.
We began to look about us, therefore, and were soon installed in a
small but beautifully clean and cool-looking house in a street leading
out of the plaza, and found no reason to be discontented with our
abode. It boasted of a pleasant patio (or inner courtyard) and a wide
verandah or gallery, into which our rooms opened. As the days grew
warmer (and very warm indeed they grew after a while) this patio
was our greatest comfort; for, following the example of our
neighbours, we had it covered with an awning, and spent the greater
part of the day, seated with our books or work, beside its mimic
fountain. But if we gained in material comfort by exchanging the
noisy and dirty posada for apartments of our own, we had also
drawn down upon ourselves the burden of housekeeping, which we
found in Spain to be no sinecure. Some friends who had resided a
few months in the town, and acquired a fair knowledge of the
language, manners, and customs of the natives of Utrera,
volunteered to send us a maid, warranted honest and a tolerable
proficient in the art of cookery. But she proved a care-full blessing.
To give her her due, she possessed one good quality, and we found
by experience that it was about the only one she or her sisterhood
could boast of: she was very fond of water. The floors of our new
house were formed of stone, partially covered by strips of matting
which were easily removed; and we soon lived in a perpetual
swamp. Antonia was always both ready and willing to ‘clean up,’ and
never seemed happier than when dashing water in all directions, or
brushing away vigorously at the matting with her little short-handled
broom.
By the way, I wonder why Spanish women prefer to bend double
over their sweeping, instead of adopting our easier method of
performing the same operation? In vain did I strive to convince
Antonia of the advantages attendant on the use of a broom with a
long handle: she only smiled, shook her head, and went obstinately
on her weary way.