The angel did not answer him, but looked him in the face, and said, “Go in this thy might, and thou shalt save Israel from the hand of the Midianites:  have not I sent thee?” My grandfather, Joash, was one of the poorest men of his tribe, and as for my father, nobody had ever thought anything of him, nor had he thought anything of himself. He, a solitary labourer, unknown, with no friends, no arms; he to do what the princes could not do! he to lead these frightened slaves against soldiers who were as the sand for numbers!  It was not to be believed, and yet—­there sat the angel.  It was broad noon; in the shade of the oak his light was like that of the sun.  It was not a dream of the night, and he could not be mistaken.  Nay, the angel’s voice was more sharp and clear than the voice in which we speak to one another—­a voice like the command of a king who must not be disobeyed.  Yet he comforted my father.  “Surely I will be with thee,” he added, “and thou shalt smite the Midianites as one man.”  If the Lord was to be with him, my father need not have hesitated, but in truth he did not care for the duty which was thrust upon him.  He would have been glad to do anything for his country which was within his power, but he did not feel equal to the task of leading it against its oppressors, nor did he covet it.  He would rather have endured in silence and died unknown than take such a weight upon his shoulders, for he was not one of those who desire power for power’s sake.  The apparition, too, was so sudden.  The angel was there with his divine face looking steadily at him, with eyes so piercing that no secret in the inmost soul could remain hidden from them, and the man upon whom they were turned could not even think without being sure that his thought was known.  Yet my father doubted, and this dread of the task imposed on him increased his doubt.  Yes; he doubted an order given him at midday by a messenger sitting in front of him flaming with heavenly colour.  It might after all be a delusion.  He prayed, therefore, for a sign, and then as he prayed he thought he might be smitten for his presumption.  But the angel was tender to his misgivings, and said he would wait for the offering which was to test his authority.  My father went into the house and brought out a kid and unleavened bread, and presented it.  The angel directed him to put the flesh and the cake on the rock and pour out the broth.  He did so, and the angel then rose, and stretching out the staff that was in his hand, touched the flesh and cakes.  No sooner had he touched them than—­wonder of wonders!—­a fire leapt up out of the rock; they were consumed before his eyes, and the angel had departed.  A great terror overcame my father, for it had always been said that it was impossible for man to look upon a Spirit from the Lord and live.  He was left alone, too, with the message, but without the Comforter, and he cried unto God in despair, not knowing what