University of Virginia Library

5. V.

Melchior sped from Cordova mounted upon a noble
steed, which he had chosen as a steed for battle. Long
and late did he ride, and the villages were sought wherever
the Jew could be found, and he who had pledged
himself heretofore had a place and an hour appointed
him for attendance. Similar duties had been assigned
to Abimelech and other leading men among the Hebrews,
so that a goodly number of the more adventurous
and patriotic of the nation were prepared to assemble,
ready to take arms, and gather under the lead of the
princes, to fight against the usurping King Roderick.

Though the toils were great before him, yet did the
venerable Melchior, covered with years and full of sadness,
go forward with a fearless heart and most generous
spirit. He executed the task assigned him so that
nothing was left undone; and, with a speed somewhat
relaxed, pushed his good steed forward on his returning
track towards the Cave of Wamba, where the meeting
of the chiefs was to take place. It was early in the

afternoon of the day on the night of which they were to
assemble, when Melchior came in sight of the rocks
which lay around the cavern. He alighted from his steed,
which he carefully fastened in a hollow out of sight;
then, pursuing his farther way on foot, he proceeded
to the entrance. It lay in shadow and the deepest silence,
yet the waning and sweetly-softened sunlight was
smiling upon the surrounding hill-tops; and the old man,
whose mind was never unconscious of the lovely and
the lofty things of God's creation, stood a while beholding
the rich glories spread around him. The tinkle of
bells from a shepherd's flock reached his ears, and the
shepherd, when he looked up, was descending in his sight
along the slope of a distant hill which lay between him
and the sunlight. The man was clothed in skins, and
Melchior distinguished that he was a native. “Yet this
man—this miserable man,” said he, musing to himself,
“will link his brute strength to that of the Goth who enslaves
his mind and tramples upon his natural wishes,
while denying his proper wants, to destroy the creature
who has a thought unlike that of his tyrant. Little does
he know that he who gives strength to injustice arms
his own enemy, who in due time will turn his steel from
the bosom of his foe to that of his creature.”

He turned away from gazing, and, as if he strove not
to think, hurried at once into the cave. It was unoccupied.
A dull dead silence reigned over the wide
enclosure save in one spot, near its centre, where a
stream, having a natural basin, murmured continually, as
it found a difficult and narrow aperture through a sunken
chasm in the rock, through which, after much winding,
and a long and secret passage, it found an outlet into
the sunlight. The musing Melchior likened it to the
spirit struggling after truth, which is the moral sunlight.
“Thus,” said he, “at first—it awakens into life with
darkness around it. The rocks environ it. The cold
hangs upon it in fog—men refuse it countenance, and it

struggles unheeded and without regard. But the sleepless
water wears away the rock in time, and the spirit
thristing after the truth will find a passage from its dungeons.
The rocks cannot always gird it in, and it
makes a chasm. The walls divide—the rocks split; and
slowly, but certainly, through difficulty and darkness, it
emerges from its gloom and captivity, and the smile of
God rests upon it in its freedom, even as the blessed
sunlight hallows these waters when far down, at the
foot of the mountain, they break away into the valley.
And, Father!” he continued, “is not this our cause—the
cause of truth? Is it not for this that we shroud ourselves
in these gloomy places—these natural prisons of
the earth? Find we not an emblem in this secret water?
Shall we not emerge into the glorious sunlight free and
unrestrained? Will not the rocks fail to keep us—shall
we not break the chain—shall we not foil the vigilance,
and defeat the wiles of our oppressors? Be thou with
us, God of Abraham, and the cause of thy people is safe;
the glory of Judah, so long departed, will again return to
him, and the jubilee of his emancipation will be sung in
thy temples.”

From the cavern he emerged as his prayer was concluded.
The blessed sunlight was still around him,
and it was doubly sweet and beautiful in contrast with
that shrouding darkness which in the cave had enveloped
him. A playful bird hopped before his path, and led him
onward with a sweet inviting hum to follow as it flew;
and with a thoughtful and sanguine mind, that drew favourable
auguries at every step as he proceeded, and
led unconsciously his footsteps down the sides of the
sierra, he wandered onward in the direction leading to
Cordova. On a sudden he heard the flight of many
birds, and looking before him, beheld a cloud of them
rising from a wood at a small distance beyond him,
and making their way towards the distant mountains.
Another and another flock followed, and arrested his
further attention.

“It is from the Fountain of the Damsels they rise,”
said Melchior, musingly—“some one approaches for
water;” and, with no definite intention, he still continued
his walk in the direction of the fountain.