HEN the Jews were scattered throughout the Roman empire, and their holy city destroyed, the unhappy people, in their despair, turned their eyes more and more to those ancient prophecies which predicted that in the latter days a Messiah should arise-a Deliverer, a mighty Conqueror, who would gather the chosen people together under His rule, and they should become a great and glorious nation. This deep-seated hope of the people led various impostors to practise on their credulity. Of these by far the most remarkable was Coziba. Nothing is known of his early life; we first hear of him about A.D. 133, during the Jewish war which broke out under the reign of the Emperor Hadrian : when, announcing himself as the Messiah, he changed his name from Coziba to Barchochebas-Son of the Star,' in allusion to the star that Balaam had seen afar off.

He chose for his forerunner and coadjutor Akiba, a famous rabbi and chief of the Sanhedrin. This learned man had originally been a shepherd; and kept the flocks of a wealthy citizen of Jerusalem, named Calba Chuva. The daughter of his master fell in love with him; but ashamed to ally herself with one in so humble a position, she advised him to apply himself to study. On his doing so she married him privately; which her father discovering, he disinherited her. In the meantime Akiba rose to great eminence, and when his father-in-law saw him surrounded by his scholars, and observed the honour paid to him by every one, he fell at his feet and gave him a great portion of his estate. When Akiba was at the height of his reputation he was met by Barchochebas, who, saluting him, exclaimed, 'Behold the Star that was to come out of Jacob, and make thyself his forerunner!'

The Jews, inspired once more with hope, flocked to the standard of their Messiah in vast numbers; so that he was soon at the head of an army of two hundred thousand men. He made Bither, a city near Jerusalem, his capital; and here he, according to the ancient rites, received the royal unction as Messiah and Prince of the Jews. He caused money to be coined, and he assumed all the dignity of a king. The city of Bither contained numerous colleges, and was the resort of the most learned men of the day, and many thousand scholars.

At first the Romans paid little attention to Barchochebas; but when they found his influence increasing, and that he was ravaging the neighbouring country, they sent an army against him under the command of Tinnius Rufus. But this general being repeatedly defeated, the Emperor Hadrian became aware of the danger of the revolt, and recalling an able commander, Julius Severus, from Britain, he put him at the head of the army against the Jews. Severus, prudently avoiding a general engagement, attacked the enemy's detached parties, and cutting off the supplies of their camp compelled them to retreat into Bither. He then laid siege to the city, which the Jews, though ill-armed and undisciplined, animated by Barchochebas, defended with the most desperate bravery. Tryphon, a learned rabbi, was executed for even speaking of surrender, and the scholars fought fiercely amongst the rest. But the city was taken, the false

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Messiah slain, and his forerunner,' Akiba, made prisoner. scholars who had shown so much courage were thrown into the flames, together with their books.

The Romans were not in the habit of killing women and children at the sack of a city; but in this instance they appear to have shown unusual barbarity. It is said that the heads of 300 children were found in one place, and that more of the Jewish people perished in this war than came out of Egypt! The memory of the dreadful time is still commemorated by a hymn inserted in the Hebrew liturgy.

As for Barchochebas, his head was cut off by the soldiers and carried to the Emperor, who expressed a wish to see the body also; but when they returned to the spot where it lay, a large serpent which was coiled about the mutilated neck reared its hissing head, and they fled in terror to tell the prodigy to Hadrian, who, when he heard their narrative, exclaimed, 'God alone could destroy such a man!' And so ended the False Messiah, after having reigned over his people for two years and a half. The celebrated Akiba had a still worse fate ; for after a severe imprisonment he was put to a cruel death. The war ended in A.D. 136, and in the following year the name of Jerusalem was abolished: the Emperor gave his own family name, Ælius, to the new city which he built on its ruins, and the Jews were forbidden to enter it for ever.

How much or how little imposture there may have been in the pretensions of Barchochebas it is impossible to say. As the Jews do not think the Messiah will be a divine being, but an earthly ruler and conqueror, this man, possessing abilities and indomitable courage and daring, in the frenzy of religious excitement may really have imagined himself the instrument destined by Providence to deliver his unfortunate country from the abhorred Roman yoke. The Jews, however, when they found that he was not the true Messiah, instead of Barchochebas, 'the Son of the Star,' called him Barchozab, 'the Son of a Lie.' A. R.

FIFTY YEARS AGO.

A PASTORAL OF ENGLISH LIFE.

THE BURNING OF THE RICK.

THEY kept early hours at the farm, and it was not much more than nine o'clock when Dinah Yeatman was able to leave the family circle and seek the silence and quietness of her own little room, where she could think over all that happened. Poor girl! she was tired and worn out with the excitement of that eventful Monday. She had been roused in the morning with news of the burning of her father's rick at Stoke Lane; and, as misfortunes are said never to come singly, the next thing she heard was that her cousin, young Jephson, had arrived at the house and particularly wished to see her. Wondering at this announcement, but never suspecting what could be the reason of it, Dinah had followed the young servant who had been sent to look for her in the garden. At the hall-door she met

her father, who was evidently waiting for her; and she noticed that there was a sad, anxious look in his face, such as she had never seen there before. He had clasped her hand for a moment and whispered: 'Go and see him, Dinah, my child. It's too late to draw back now; I've give him my word.'

Startled and confused, the girl would have asked what he meant, but her father could not trust himself to say more, and hurried away. Then suddenly it dawned upon her that she was to expect a proposal of marriage from this young man, and that, for some reason which she could not understand, her father had actually promised that she should accept it. In a moment all kinds of terrible possibilities flashed across her mind; perhaps he was ruined-she knew he had suffered many losses lately-and her marriage was to be the price of help from her rich relations at Mere. She shuddered at the thought, but there was no time for delay or hesitation; the little servant girl had thrown open the door of the best sitting-room, and she was face to face with her cousin Augustus.

As Dinah's thoughts reached this point, she started up from her seat and walked impatiently up and down her bedroom floor. With what terrible distinctness the whole scene was engraved upon her mind; although at the time she had seemed to be passing through some confused, oppressive dream! There was the best parlour, with its blinds only half drawn up, and the close, confined feeling of a place only used on grand occasions. There were the chairs with their brown holland covers, all in a row, flat against the side of the room, the framed needlework on the walls, the stuffed birds, and china shepherdesses about on the tables-she seemed to see them all. And then she tried to remember what had happened, what she had actually said when her cousin had pressed his suit, using all the weight of her father's authority to urge it upon her. Surely she had given no positive reply? No, she had asked for time, and promised to give him an answer the next morning. But all that evening his assured manner and familiar words had plainly shown that he considered the matter settled, and already looked upon her as his future wife.

'Oh, no, no! It is impossible! it can never be!' repeated the young girl, as she buried her face in her hands. And yet, how many another daughter had been found to sacrifice herself for a father! What, indeed, did it matter after all? It was only her own happiness which was concerned; and now that Amos Ridley always avoided meeting her, and seemed to have forgotten her.

But poor little Dinah Yeatman was not cast in heroic mould, and at the terrible thought of being forgotten by her old friend all her courage failed her, and she burst into a fit of sobbing. Time passed on, but the girl could not calm herself or lie down to sleep, though all was dark and quiet, for she had put out her candle lest any one should notice her vigil. She was restless and disturbed, and at length, wrapping her shawl round her, she sat down close to the open window, that the fresh night air might cool her feverish excitement.

How long Dinah sat there she never knew, but suddenly she became aware that there was something moving in the garden below. She listened intently; yes, there could be no doubt that stealthy footsteps were passing in front of the house. She looked out, but it

was a cloudy night, and she could not distinguish any thing plainly, though she fancied there were dark figures moving against the paling. Now, thoroughly roused, she was not wanting in presence of mind. Quickly dressing herself, she stole gently out of the room and went to the end of the long passage, where there was a window which commanded a view of the yard and farm-buildings. At first there was

nothing to be seen, however, and she began to think that she must have been deceived, when, after watching a few minutes, she became aware of a thick smoke rising from some point out of sight behind the great barn, and before she had time to realise what had happened, a lurid glare in the sky showed that something was in flames. Dinah ran quickly to her father's door, knocking loudly, and soon rousing all the household with the cry of Fire!'

At the first alarm, Farmer Yeatman hurried at once to the yard, and to his horror discovered that the fire proceeded from a wheat

rick which was closely adjoining his stables and cow-sheds. There was not a moment to lose, for the straw had evidently been fired in several places, and the flames were fast gaining ground. The incendiaries had evidently made their escape at the first sound from the house, for not a trace was to be seen of them.

Never in all his life before had John Yeatman been in such a terrible position, for he knew not whom to trust or where to look for help. He had no doubt but that some of his own labourers were guilty of the dastardly deed.

His wife and daughter had followed him to the scene of the fire in silent terror, and he sent them back to the house to fetch all the cans and buckets they could find, while the trembling servant girl was told to run and call the carter, who lived in a cottage near. But the farmer even doubted whether this man, Joel Rowden by name, who had been in his employment for so many years, might not have joined the number of his enemies. All seemed hopeless and terrible; he felt that his home and property would all be burnt down before his eyes, while he was powerless to prevent it. Yet in that moment of utter despair a friend was at hand. He turned at the sound of a hurried footstep behind him, and there, full in the red glare of the firelight, was Amos Ridley. Never had the sight of that familiar face been so welcome before. Here, at least, was a brave heart and a strong arm, on which he could rely.

It was not a time to enter into explanations, and the young blacksmith did not attempt to account for his presence at that opportune moment. He was not one to blow his own trumpet, and no one ever knew that, suspecting mischief, he had been on the watch the whole night. Unfortunately, however, he had gone on a wrong scent to the distant farmyard, where he feared that the outrage of the night before might be repeated. He had not imagined that the miscreants would have either the audacity or the malice to try to burn down the farm and homestead itself. But he had seen the flames in the distance, and made his way to the spot.

Amos set to work at once with full energy. He began to pull down the straw as much as possible on the side of the stables, and then, climbing half way up the burning rick, he emptied the buckets of water, which were filled by the women from the pump in the dray, and handed up to him by Farmer Yeatman.

Meantime, Joel the carter had arrived with his two boys, and the hearty good will with which they gave their help soon convinced their master that his suspicions were unfounded, at least as far as they were concerned. The man's first thought was naturally for his carthorses, and although the first violence of the flames had been much subdued by this time, he felt that it would be safer to move all the horses from the stables to an empty cowshed, quite away at the other side of the house. Now that other assistance had come, the farmer turned to his daughter and tried to persuade her to give up and go indoors, when suddenly he remembered his guest of the night before. "Why, where's young Jephson? We've all forgotten him, or he'd have been down here saving you all this rough work, Dinah.'

'Oh, dear no, we didn't forget him!' said Mrs. Yeatman, quietly. I knocked at his door, and called out "Fire!" and he jumps up in