distance; he was surrounded by a band of soldiers, and led by the
archers. The multitude thronged on all sides and followed the
procession, thundering forth the most fearful oaths and imprecations,
while groups of persons were hurrying to and fro, pushing and jostling
one another. Jesus was stripped of all save his under garment, which
was stained and soiled by the filth which had been flung upon it; a
long chain was hanging round his neck, which struck his knees as he
walked; his hands were pinioned as on the previous day, and the archers
dragged him by the ropes which were fastened round his waist. He
tottered rather than walked, and was almost unrecognisable from the
effects of his sufferings during the night;--he was colourless, haggard,
his face swollen and even bleeding, and his merciless persecutors
continued to torment him each moment more and more. They had gathered
together a large body of the dregs of the people, in order to make his
present disgraceful entrance into the city a parody on his triumphal
entrance on Palm Sunday. They mocked, and with derisive gestures called
him king, and tossed in his path stones, bits of wood; and filthy rags;
they made game of, and by a thousand taunting speeches mocked him,
during this pretended triumphal entry.

In the corner of a building, not far from the house of Caiphas, the
afflicted Mother of Jesus, with John and Magdalen, stood watching for
him. Her soul was ever united to his; but propelled by her love, she
left no means untried which could enable her really to approach him.
She remained at the Cenacle for some time after her midnight visit to
the tribunal of Caiphas, powerless and speechless from grief; but when
Jesus was dragged forth from his prison, to be again brought before his
judges, she arose, cast her veil and cloak about her, and said to
Magdalen and John: 'Let us follow my Son to Pilate's court; I must again
look upon him.' They went to a place through which the procession must
pass, and waited for it. The Mother of Jesus knew that her Son was
suffering dreadfully, but never could she have conceived the
deplorable, the heartrending condition to which he was reduced by the
brutality of his enemies. Her imagination had depicted him to her as
suffering fearfully, but yet supported and illuminated by sanctity,
love, and patience. Now, however, the sad reality burst upon her. First
in the procession appeared the priests, those most bitter enemies of
her Div