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n of b●lood and guile, ye cannot rob us ●of our faith.” The impassion●ed tones of natural eloquence awed even th●e rude crowd around; but more was not per●mitted.Rudely severed, and committed● to their own guards, the pris▓oners were borne to their respecti▓ve dungeons.To Almah, those earnest word

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s h▓ad been as the voice of an an●gel, hushing every former pang to rest; and in▓ the solitude and darkness of the interve▓ning hours, even the thought of her child could● not rob her soul of its calm, ▓or prayer of its strength. The ●first of November, 1755, dawned cloudless and lo?/p>

坴ely, as it had been the last forty days.Ne▓ver had there been

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    a season more g●orgeous in its sunny splendour, more b●

    aith and hea ecious sec
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    rilliant in the intense azure of its a▓rching heaven than the present.Scarcely▓ any rain had

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    fallen for many month▓s, and the heat had at first been intolerabl●e, but within the last six

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weeks a ●freshness and coolness had infused the atmospher●e and revived the earth. As it was▓ not a regular auto da fé (A▓lvar and his wife being the onl●y victims), the awful ceremony of burning▓ was to take place in the square, of w●hich the buildings of the Inquisition ●formed one side.Mass had been performed before▓ daybreak, in the chapel of the Inquisi●tion, at which the victims w●ere compelled to be present,

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and ▓about half-past seven the dread procession lef●t the Inquisition gates.The sold▓iers and minor servitors marched first, f●orming a hollow square, in the centre of● which were the stakes and huge faggot▓s piled around.Then came the ▓sacred cross, covered with a black veil, a●nd its body-guard of priests.The vi▓ctims, each surrounded by mon▓ks, appeared next, closely followed by th▓e higher officer

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s and inquisitors, and a ●band of fifty men, in rich dresses of bl●ack satin and silver, closed the procession. ● We have no space to linger on the ceremo▓nies always attendant on the bur▓ning of Inquisitorial prisoners.▓Although, from the more private n▓ature of the rites, these ceremo▓nies were greatly curtailed, it was ●rather more than half an hour after nine when t▓he victims were bou

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nd to their resp▓ective stakes, and the executioners approached w●ith their blazing brands. There was no c●hange in the countenance of either ●prisoner.Pale they were, yet calm and ▓firm; all of human feeling had be▓en merged in the martyr’

s courage, and the ●martyr’s faith. One look had been exchange▓d between them—of love spiritualized● to look beyond the grave—of encouragement to e●ndure for their God, even to ●the end.The sky was still cloudle▓ss, the sun still looked dow▓n on that scene of horror; and then wa▓s a hush—a pause—for so it felt in nature, t▓hat stilled the very breathing of those a●round. “Hear, O Israel, the L●ord ou

r God, the Lord is One●—the Sole and Holy One; there is n▓o unity like His unity!” were the words wh●ich broke that awful pause, in a voice ●distinct, unfaltering, and musical as● its wont; and it was echoed by the ●sweet tone

s from woman’s lips, so ●thrilling in their melody, th▓e rudest nature started.It was the signal of ●their fate.The executioners hastened forwa▓rd, the brands were applied to the turf of● the piles, the flames burst up be●neath their hand—when at that moment ●there came a shock as if the very earth were● cloven asunder, the heavens rent in twain.A

●crash so loud, so fearful, so appall●ing, as if the whole of Lisbon had● been shivered to its foundations, and a shriek●, or rather thousands and thous●ands of human voices, blended in one wild-pier●ci

ng cry of agony and terror, seem●ing to burst from every quarter at th●e self-same instant, and fraug▓ht with universal woe.The building●s around shook, as impelled by a migh●ty whirlwind, though no sound of such was● heard.The earth heaved, yawned, closed, and ro▓cked again, as the billows of the ocean wer●e lashe

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