"He is merely the instrument of the one Almighty God, whose Son, on the anniversary of this day, became incarnate on earth, and died on the cross in a land far distant from this, that man might not be subjected to the penalty for disobedience to His laws, thus dying in his stead, to satisfy the ends of justice."
"And you say that he, a mere man, who died in the distant land you speak of, was the son of one who created the sun?"
"Most certainly."
"Then I must say that you speak rank blasphemy."
And the priests and other officials re-echoed the shout, "Blasphemy! blasphemy!" and the people around took it up, and the cry of "Blasphemy!" rose up from a thousand tongues.
"Slay him! stone him!" was then cried by the excited people, and they began to take up stones and hurl them at the old man, who, shaking the snow of the city from his sandals, and saying "Woe be unto you," passed through the surrounding crowd, and disappeared amongst the forest trees.
The dusky shades of evening, or rather afternoon, were drawing in as the angel passed through the wood; and as, in his incarnate form, he was subject to all the sufferings and discomforts humanity is liable to, he feared that he would have to pass the night, with all its inclemency of weather, with no other shelter than that afforded by a tree trunk or the branches of a bramble bush, but after wandering some time he came upon a cleared space, where he found some sheep huddling together on the lee side of a rising ground, and judging that where sheep were men would not be far distant, he passed up the hillside and gladly hailed a gleam of light issuing from a cottage window. He approached and knocked at the door, which was opened by a comely, middle-aged dame, whilst, by the fire of peat, sat a man whom he presumed to be her husband, occupied in eating his evening meal, with a shepherd dog by his side, eagerly looking out for the bones and chance pieces of meat which his master might think proper to throw him.
"Good dame," said he to the woman, "have you charity enough to give me shelter from the storm, a crust of bread to allay the cravings of hunger, and permission to imbibe warmth from your fire into my aged and frozen limbs?"
"Yes, that indeed we have, venerable father," replied she. "Come in and seat you by the fire, and we will see what the cottage can supply in the way of victuals."