he patriotism of Moses, and of all whom God has ever truly
called to lead their fellows. Nevertheless he had to suffer for his
error.

His first act had been a kind of manifesto, a claim to lead, which he
supposed that they would have understood; and yet, when he found his
deed was known, he feared and fled. His false step told against him. One
cannot but infer also that he was conscious of having already forfeited
court favour--that he had before this not only made his choice, but
announced it, and knew that the blow was ready to fall on him at any
provocation. We read that he dwelt in the land of Midian, a name which
was applied to various tracts according to the nomadic wanderings of the
tribe, but which plainly included, at this time, some part of the
peninsula formed by the tongues of the Red Sea. For, as he fed his
flocks, he came to the Mount of God.

_MOSES IN MIDIAN._

ii. 16-22

The interference of Moses on behalf of the daughters of the priest of
Midian is a pleasant trait, courteous, and expressive of a refined
nature. With this remark, and reflecting that, like many courtesies, it
brought its reward, we are often content to pass it by. And yet it
deserves a closer examination.

1. For it expresses great energy of character. He might well have been
in a state of collapse. He had smitten the Egyptian for Israel's sake:
he had appealed to his own people to make common cause, like brethren,
against the common foe; and he had offered himself to them as their
destined leader in the struggle. But they had refused him the command,
and he was rudely awakened to the consciousness that his life was in
danger through the garrulous ingratitude of the man he rescued. Now he
was a ruined man and an exile, marked for destruction by the greatest of
earthly monarchs, with the habits and tastes of a great noble, but
homeless among wild races.

It was no common nature which was alert and energetic at such a time.
The greatest men have known a period of prostration in calamity: it was
enough for honour that they should rally and re-collect their forces.
Thinking of Frederick, after Kunersdorf, resigning the command ("I have
no resources more, and will not survive the destruction of my country"),
and of his subsequent despatch, "I am now recovered from my illness";
and of Napoleon, trembling and weeping on the road to Elba, one turns
with fresh admiration to the fallen prince, the baffled liberator,
sitting exhausted b