heap of stones, unto this day; and the Lord turned from the fierceness of his anger. Wherefore the name of that place was called, The Valley of Achor, unto this day.'
Thus far of Achan's high treason: whether the Gauls would have involved all the members of his family in his terrible death, one cannot say; but it is clear that they would have regarded his transgression in exactly the same light as the Hebrews did; and Caesar's words suggest the inference that even in his time, when the war-god had been surpassed in popular esteem by the more genial divinities of trade and health, the former still remained the god of the state in a sense in which no other could well have been. It may help us to understand the scrupulous regard for the rights of the god of war entertained by the Gauls, the Hebrews and other nations of antiquity, if we look for a moment at the traces of this feeling which manifest themselves among the civilized nations of modern times: I need only allude to the singing of solemn Te Deums after victory, or to our praying in this country that our Queen 'may be strengthened to vanquish and overcome all her enemies,' and to our adorning our cathedrals with the tattered flags of the foreigner. That 'the Lord is a man of war' is a sentiment by no means confined to the Song of Moses: it is found to be still a natural one; and I need only remind you of the poet Wordsworth's ode for the English thanksgiving on the morning of the 18th day of January, 1816, and more especially the following lines:
'The fierce tornado sleeps within Thy courts—
He hears the word—he flies—
And navies perish in their ports;
