SOFTLY the blended light of evening rests Nor are thy tones unanswered, where she builds Whether the breath of Summer stir their depths, All the air Is now instinct with life. The merry hum where each mound Oh! in the boasted lands beyond the deep, The heart with peace more pure?—Nor yet art thou, graven deep Of a strange race, who trod perchance their sides, Far beyond this vale That sends to heaven its incense of lone flowers, Gay village spires ascend, and the glad voice Of industry is heard. — So, in the lapse Of future years, these ancient woods shall bow I SET Out, one day, from Damascus, to visit Balbec and its ruins. My friend the Pacha had referred me to the charge of the Sheik Nasel, who was the chief of fifty Arabs. My people followed me at the distance of a day's journey. We travelled on, sometimes in the night, and sometimes in the day; and the sun had thrice risen since my departure, when a messenger, mounted on a dromedary, sped forward towards our caravan. He addressed a word to the Sheik Nasel, who became troubled, and changed countenance. "What is the matter?" said I. "Nothing," he replied, and we proceeded on our route. Presently a second dromedary reached us; and the result much increased the depression evinced by Nasel. I insisted on knowing the cause of it. "Well, then, Cid Milady," answered he, "since I must tell you, my father is pursuing me with a force three times superior to mine, and will shortly overtake us. He seeks my life, I am certain. The offence demands blood; but you have been intrusted to my care; and I will rather die than abandon you.". "For me, I will "Make your escape; fly!" exclaimed I. sooner abide singly in the desert, than see you slain by your father's hand. I will await his coming, and attempt your reconciliation. In any case, Balbec cannot be far off; and the sun shall be my guide." With these words I quitted him. He sprang forward, and disappeared with his fifty Arabs. I had been left alone, nearly an hour, with no other com pany than the animal that carried me, and no other protection than my dagger, when a cloud of dust showed itself in the horizon: horsemen approached at full gallop; and, in a few moments, Nasel was at my side. "Honoured be the Cid Milady!" was his exclamation, — " he wears the heart of a warrior! All that I have pretended to him, has only been to prove his courage. Come, my ather is at hand to receive you." *Forgetting her sex, in the hardihood and fearless bearing which sometimes almost concealed it, the wild Arabs were accustomed, it seems, to address Lady Stanhope in the masculine gender. I followed him, and was welcomed beneath his tent, with all the state and ceremony of the desert. Gazelles and young camels supplied our repast; and poets celebrated th exploits of past times. I cultivated the alliance of their trib who, from that day, have loved and respected me. AMONG the dwellers in the silent fields, · Whom, since her birth, on bleak Northumbria's coast, Known unto few, but prized as far as known, A single act endears to high and low, Through the whole land, to manhood, moved in spite - to generous youth,- Save in the rolls of heaven, where hers may live The high-souled virtues which forgetful earth Has witnessed. Oh! that winds and waves could speak A maiden gentle, yet, at duty's call, As when it guarded holy Cuthbert's cell: All night the storm had raged, nor ceased nor paused, "After these things Jesus went over the Sea of Galilee, which is the Sea of Tiberias. And a great multitude followed him, because they saw his miracles which he did on them that were diseased." How familiar, now, this sounds to every reader! Every phrase comes upon the ear like an oft-told tale; but it makes a very slight impression upon the mind. The next verse, though perhaps few of my readers know now what it is, will sound equally familiar, when they read it here. "And Jesus went up into a mountain, and there he sat with his disciples." Now, suppose this passage and the verses which follow it, were read at morning prayer by the master of a family; how many of the children would hear it without being interested, or receiving any clear and vivid ideas from the description! And how many would there be, who, if they were asked, two hours afterward, what had been read that morning, would be utterly unable to tell! But now suppose that this same father could, by some magic power, show to his children the real scene which these verses describe. Suppose he could go back through the eighteen hundred years which have elapsed since these events occurred, and taking his family to some elevation in the romantic scenery of Palestine, from which they might overlook the country of Galilee, actually see all that this chapter describes. "Do you see," he might say, "that wide sea which spreads out beneath us, and occupies the whole extent of the valley? That is the Sea of Tiberias; it is also called the Sea of Galilee. All this country which spreads around it, is Galilee. Those distant mountains are in Galilee, and that beautiful wood which skirts the shore, is a Galilean forest." 'Why is it called the Sea of Tiberias?" a child might ask. "Do you see at the foot of that hill, on the opposite shore of the lake, a small town? It extends along the margin of the water, for a considerable distance. That is Tiberias; and the lake sometimes takes its name. "But look, there is a small boat coming round a point of land which juts out beautifully from this side of the lake. It is slowly making its way across the water, we can almost hear the splashing of the oars. It contains the Saviour and some of his disciples. They are steering towards Tiberias, now they approach the shore, they stop at the landing, and the Saviour, followed by his disciples, walks upon the shore |