leader. Considering the authority which the family of Gideon must still have possessed, none better could

have been found than one of its own members.

Gideon had left no fewer than seventy sons. If we may judge from their connivance at the worship of Baal

around, from the want of any recognized outstanding individuality among them, and especially from their

utter inability to make a stand even for life against an equal number of enemies, they must have sadly

degenerated; probably were an enervated, luxurious, utterly feeble race. There was one exception, however,

to this; one outside their circle, and yet of it - Abimelech, not a legitimate son of Gideon's, but one by "a

maid-servant," a native of Shechem. Although we know not the possible peculiarities of the case, it is, in

general, quite consistent with social relations in the East, that Abimelech's slave-mother should have had

influential connections in Shechem, who, although of an inferior grade,275 could enter into dealings with "the

citizens" of the place. Abimelech seems to have possessed all the courage, vigor, and energy of his father;

only coupled, alas! with restless ambition, reckless unscrupulousness, and daring impiety. His real name we

do not know;  276 for Abimelech, father-king, or else king-father, seems to have been a by-name, probably

suggested by his n atural qualifications and his ambition.

The plot was well contrived by Abimelech. At his instigation his mother's relatives entered into negotiations

with the "citizens" or "householders" of Shechem. The main considerations brought to bear upon them

seem to have been: hatred of the house of Gideon, and the fact that Abimelech was a fellow-townsman. This

was sufficient. The compact was worthily ratified with Baal's money. Out of the treasury of his temple they

gave Abimelech seventy shekels. This wretched sum, somewhere at the rate of half-a-crown a person,

sufficed to hire a band of seventy reckless rabble for the murder of Gideon's sons. Such was the value which

Israel put upon them! Apparently unresisting, they were all slaughtered upon one stone, like a sacrifice - all

but one, Jotham ("Jehovah [is] perfect"), who succeeded in hiding himself, and thus escaped.

This is the first scene. The next brings us once more to "the memorial by the vale"  277 which Joshua had set

up, when, at the close of his last address, the people had renewed their covenant with Jehovah (Joshua

24:26, 27). It was in this sacred spot that "the citizens of Shechem and the whole house of Millo"  278 were

now gathered to make Abimelech king! Close by, behind it, to the south, rose Gerizim, the Mount of

Blessings. On one of its escarpments, which tower 800 feet above the valley, Jotham, the last survivor of

Gideon's house, watched the scene. And now his voice rose above the shouts of the people.

In that clear atmosphere every word made it s way to the listeners below. It was a strange parable he told,

peculiarly of the East, that land of parables, and in language so clear and forcible, that it stands almost

unique. It is about the Republic of Trees, who are about to elect a king. In turn the olive, the fig tree, and the

vine, the three great representatives of fruit -bearing trees in Palestine,279 are asked. But each refuses; for

each has its own usefulness, and inquires with wonder: "Am I then to lose" my fatness, or my sweetness, or

my wine, "and to go to flutter above the trees?"280

The expressions are very pictorial, as indicating, on the one hand, that such a reign could only be one of

unrest and insecurity, a "wavering" or "fluttering" above the trees, and that, in order to attain this position

of elevation above the other trees, a tree would require to be uprooted from its own soil, and so lose what of

fatness, sweetness, or refreshment God had intended it to yield. Then, these noble trees having declined the

offer, and apparently all the others also,281 the whole of the trees next turn to the thornbush, which yields no

fruit, can give no shadow, and only wounds those who take hold of it, which, in fact, is only fit for burning.

The thornbush itself seems scarcely to believe that such a proposal could seriously be made to it. "If in

truth" (that is, "truly and sincerely") "ye anoint me king over you, come, put your trust in my shadow;  282 but

if not (that is, if you fear so to do, or else find your hopes disappointed), let fire come out of the t hornbush

and devour the cedars of Lebanon."  283 The application of the parable was so evident, that it scarcely

needed the pungent sentences in which Jotham in conclusion set before the people their conduct in its real