should not our beautiful vessel" (and she patted the deck with her foot) "change her appearance and roam over the ocean, the lawless brigantine, but swifter than the beautiful schooner? Why, yesterday we were a brig, and to-day we are a schooner."

"You appear to be enthusiastic, as to the good qualities of your schooner, Genevieve; but be not too confident; the Thunderer is swift, and your father's occupation, my dear girl, though it grieves me to say it, is unfortunate and lawless."

"Pooh, pooh, and why shouldn't I be confident? my father loves the vessel, and so do I. He has extricated the schooner from many intricate situations, and the ability that has been successfully exercised once, will not fail at a second calling."

"But the consequences to your father, should he be taken !"

"That he will never be," said the proud girl, and she drew herself up with the dignity of a soul fraught with high feeling.

But how, Genevieve, how can you prevent it?" said the young man, eager to discover some certain avenue of escape, in case the Speedy Keel's sailing qualities had been overrated.

She touched a silken cord which, communicating with a fire-striking apparatus, inflamed a match. "There," said she, and she pointed to a hatch. "There is the magazine; and this ineffectual right arm, though powerless where man meets man in the clash of strife, and though unable to wield the murderous sword, can at my father's warning perform a simple act, which will hurl assailers and assailed, the young and old, the beautiful and the brave, without a groan, a murmur, or a sigh, into the depths of eternity; beyond the reach of storm or strife, and the hand of another shall never point to this beautiful fabric, though a scourge of the ocean, and say she was captured."

Sappho sung from the inspiration of song, the Sybil gave forth her predictions from the mysterious cave, and the Pythoness chaunted her thrilling oracle from the wild inspiration of the murmuring fount, but never before had Lovett seen, thought, read, or dreamt of aught so beautiful and

majestic, as the lovely thing that stood before him in the inspiration of thought, her eye flashing forth her soul, and the delicate arm extended as if in the very commission of the contemplated deed. He had seen her in England, where mystery threw its mantle around her, and he had thought that gentleness was the poesy of her nature. He had loved her with the soul-subduing enthusiasm of youth: and his high, heroic protestations had awakened the spark of sympathy in her bosom that called forth a return. Like the harp untouched, which will sympathise with another instrument, and the music uncalled for, will vibrate in melody, the right chord had been struck, and the soul of the heroic girl had responded to the symphony. Little did he then think that his highest, proudest wish was to lay at her feet the attainment of that object which would be to the father of the being he loved, the mandate of death. Little did he think that the anticipated glory, if attained, instead of causing her eye to flash and cheek to flush with exultation and pride, was to overwhelm her with grief, and turn the laughter of joy into the lamentation of sorrow; that the gay garments of fashion would be doffed for the more sombre habiliments of the grave, and that he who would have given his very existence to save her from one moment's pang, would be the very one to plunge this bright and beautiful creature into the depths of despair. Overcome by his feelings, he clasped her to his bosom and exclaimed," She shall never be taken !"

"Ha, ha!" said Captain Hollins, as he entered the cabin and witnessed a part of the transaction. "So the girl has shipped you at last, and persuaded you to turn pirate, eh? Well, we are not, after all, such a desperate set of onion traders as you supposed us, Mr. Lovett, are we? and though we talk through a stove pipe sometimes, we have other tools to return a cruiser's salutation with, as your eyes have just witnessed. Will you walk on deck, Mr. Lovett, and take a parting look at the swift Thunderer before night-fall, we shall see nothing of her afterwards, as I suspect she has hove to, or has returned for something she has forgot

It was fast approaching the eleventh hour; the busy hum of the holy city had sunk into comparative stillness, and save some straggling wayfarers, and field labourers returning from their daily toil, few passengers were to be seen in the streets of Jerusalem. One middle-aged man alone kept his seat in the Water Gate, looking with a smile along the rugged road which led down to the Valley of Jehoshaphat: a silver gerah was held between his fingers, as in the act of giving an alms; but for some minutes no object appeared on whom it might properly be bestowed. He rose from his seat, and gathering his flowing robe around him, was preparing to depart, when the figure of an aged man tottering slowly up the steep, arrested his attention. The old man was meanly clad; and, as he leant feebly on his staff, to take breath after his toilsome ascent, his glance rested upon the person of the sage Rabbi Abimelech, for it was he who sat in the gate distributing his daily alms to the poor, the hungry, and the wayfarer.

"The Lord direct thy goings out and thy comings in," said the Rabbi, with a self-satisfied smile, dropping the coin into the extended palm of the stranger. "Lo! I have tarried from

pinnacles of the Temple have thrown their dark shadows across the brook of Cedron, even unto the base of the Mount of Olives, to bestow this last gerah of forty, in an alms, according to a vow which I made last Pentecost, and behold thou art here to receive it."

"Precious is the gift which cometh from the heart, more precious than the Arabian frankincense, and sweeter than the rich honey of Hebron. If I might know my lord's name, my heart would not forget it when I lift up my voice in prayer to the Ruler of Israel," said the stranger respectfully.

"I am called the Rabbi Abimelech." "He whom men term 'the sinless?' -whose voice is as the neighing of a war-horse in the Temple-whose works are the works of righteousness -who clothes the naked, feeds the hungry, and gives alms of the tenth part of his substance?"-asked the stranger.

"The same, ," answered the selfglorified Rabbi; "and now, let me pray thee, thy name, and in what city thou art a dweller ?"

"Alas!" answered the stranger, "I am as a reproach to my kindred, and my name is a defilement to the lips of an Israelite."

"Unfortunate man! in what hast thou offended against the law?'

"In this thing have I offended. Behold, I went forth at the last vintage season into the vineyards, and the vintagers were pressing the grapes in the wine-presses; and the red wine ran into the vats, even the red wine of Lebanon-and, being weary with the toil and heat of the day, I was tempted, and in foolishness I did drink of the wine, which should have been abomination unto me, seeing that I am a Nazarite from my youth."

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The scrupulous Rabbi shrank from the degraded Israelite as from a tainted leper, and elevating his brow, said, with a sanctimonious air, "The way of the wise man is pleasant, but the foot of the fool treadeth in the mire."

"Stop!" said the stranger, as the Rabbi was departing. "Is it not also said that 'the vain-glorious man shall fall in the snares of his own proud heart?' Rabbi Abimelech, thy life has been righteous, but fire hath not yet

tried, nor water purified thee. See that thou stand fast when the time cometh." At these words the stranger, with more alertness than his seeming feebleness indicated, turned into an obscure street, while Abimelech, pondering on the warning of the strange man, took his way towards his own dwelling. On reaching his house, Abimelech retired to his own chamber. It was a small closet or oratory on the house-top, furnished in a style of simplicity approaching to rudeness, and its cold cheerless appearance was increased by the dim twilight. There was still, however, sufficient light for Abimelech to distinguish a female figure standing in a thoughtful attitude in the centre of the apartment. A rich, mellow ray fell upon her shape, which exceeded in height the usual standard of her sex, but was so exquisitely proportioned as to convey only an idea of graceful dignity to the beholder. Her eye, as she turned it upon Abimelech, seemed dark and lustrous, and her smile was as a sunbeam upon the bosom of the still waters. The Rabbi stood motionless, for he never before had beheld so much beauty; a new pulse stirred in his bosom, and an unusual fire burned in his veins. At length he found words to express his admiration and astonishment. "Fair damsel," cried he, "thy visit is unforeseen; but thou art more welcome to my chamber than the pleasant odour of the young vines in the spring."

"I am," said the abashed intruder, while a roseate blush overspread the marble whiteness of her soft cheek and lofty brow, "I am, as you may perceive, a stranger and a Gentile, unworthy to come beneath the roof of the far-famed Rabbi Abimelech, the words of whose lips are wisdom, and whose precepts are as pearls of great price. Nevertheless, let thy handmaiden find favour in thy sight, and turn aside, I pray thee, unto my lodgings, which are nigh at hand, and let thy handmaiden rejoice in the light of thy countenance, and in the sweet sound of thy voice." The Rabbi, though surprised at this novel address, felt a strange sensation thrill through his frame. Gazing upon the lovely speaker, his resolution began to waver, and, almost unconsciously, he permitted himself to be led out by

his unknown visitor. Proceeding at a rapid pace toward the western quarter of the city, they at length stopped before a house of handsome exterior, but which Abimelech could not remember ever having seen before. A single tap at the door caused it to open, and the Rabbi still following his mysterious conductress, entered a hall, feebly lighted with a single lamp. Here she motioned him to remain for a short time, and disappearing through a passage, the Rabbi was left alone to meditate upon the strange adventure in which he was engaged. But he had little time allowed him for reflection ere the heavy folds of a curtain, which overhung a small door, were partially withdrawn, and a fair hand and sweet soft voice invited him to enter.

He approached, lifted up the curtain, and beheld a superbly-furnished apartment, lit with silver lamps, fed with the perfumed oil of Samaria. Mirrors of polished metal hung around the room, while on a low couch, sat, or rather reclined, the beautiful stranger, whose charms now shone with a splendour far surpassing any thing the Rabbi could imagine of mortal mould. He essayed to speak, but the words dwelt upon his lips. She beckoned him to take a seat beside her. He obeyed tremblingly; but the gentle, assuring smile which she cast upon him, at once banished his timidity, and he suffered his eyes to wander in unrestrained freedom over those voluptuous beauties till the sight became painful from 'extreme delight. female attendant spread before them a light but luxurious repast of fresh and dried fruits, grapes, figs, apricots, olives, pomegranates, and dates, interspersed with pots of pure honey, rose cakes of Damascus, and bananas of Rosetta; with Egyptian syrup, and crystal vases, in which the rich wine of Helbon sparkled with tempting brilliancy.

A

"Fairest of the daughters of men, may I crave thy name, and that of thy father's house?" said the Rabbi, addressing his unknown companion.

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"My name is Zorah," replied the damsel. My father is of the children of Ishmael, an abider in the desert; the fame of the sage Abimelech has reached unto the further borders of the wilderness, and behold, the

heart of thy handmaiden was moved to see the man of whose wisdom all nations speak."

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Lovely Zorah!" exclaimed the enamoured sage, "my wisdom is become as withered grass before thy beauty, and the strength of my heart as dew in the consuming light of thine eyes. Suffer me, therefore, to be unto thee even as Boaz was unto Ruth, and to love thee with the love wherewith Jacob loved Rachel."

Zorah smiled at the earnestness with which these words were uttered, and filling the cup, presented it to the delighted Rabbi, who instinctively shrank from the dangerous libation; but Zorah would not be denied.

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'Urge me not, fair damsel," said he. "I have a vow against the juice of the vine until next new moon."

Zorah's countenance fell, and the big tear hung tremblingly on her dark eyes' silken lash. Abimelech, torn with conflicting passions, passed his arm around her waist, and drew her unresistingly to his bosom: he felt the quick pulses of her heart throb against his-her warm sighs were upon his cheek, and the perfumed wine-cup at his lips; human strength could resist no longer, he seized the cup with desperate hands, and at a single draught quaffed it to the bottom. His vow was broken, and having nothing farther to hope or fear, draught followed draught in quick succession, till his flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes bore evidence that he was no longer under the dominion of reason.

"Zorah, my beautiful Zorah ! cried he, 66 'my love for thee is as the love which floods cannot quench, nor many waters drown. Thou art the light of mine eyes-I cannot part from thee; let us, therefore, flee unto thy father's tents, even unto the wilderness as unto a city of refuge."

"Ah! my lord, thy servant hath neither gold nor silver to bear the charge. Could we live like the raven or the stork of the desert?"

This objection had not struck Abimelech before; he was rich himself, but he could not immediately convert his possessions into money, and his passion was too violent to admit delay. He seemed perplexed and spake not, till Zorah inquired, in a careless

manner, if his next-door neighbour was not the rich publican, Aaron Ben Rabiat.

"It is even so," replied the Rabbi, still musing.

"And he hath, I am told, coffers filled with shekels of pure silver?" "It is said so."

"And shekels of gold, and pots of double maccabees, and precious stones, pearls, and sardonyxes, and carbuncles more costly than the jewels of the high-priest's breast-plate?"

"Hah!" exclaimed Abimelech, as if a sudden ray of light had darted across his mind: "speak on."

"Aaron Ben Rabiat is stricken in years and liveth alone-riches are to him as the dust of the earth-there is a private way from thy house into his."

"6 Stop! stop!" cried the agitated man, grasping the arm of the tempter convulsively. "What wouldst thou? Shall I peril my soul in this thing? Zorah! Zorah! thy words are pleasant to my ears as the murmurs of fallen waters in the desert, but the bitterness of Marah, even the bitterness of death, is in their taste: nevertheless, in this also I will obey thee."

"Go about it then, instantly," said Zorah, rising; "thou knowest the private passage into the old miser's chamber. Take this weapon-thou mayest need it-and when thou hast secured the treasure, return quickly hither, and all things shall be ready for our flight."

Abimelech, whose scruples had by this time completely vanished, was no less eager than his impetuous mistress to accomplish the deed; he ran with incredible speed through the now silent streets, and quickly reached his own dwelling. Lighting a small lamp, he entered a private passage, which in times of danger had been contrived between the two houses, and in a few minutes found himself in the strong chamber of Aaron Ben Rabiat.

Around him lay coffers filled with gold and silver coins, and caskets charged with precious stones, that trembled with varied but incessant lustre in the sickly beams of the lamp he bore. He had raised one jewelbox to his eyes, to examine it more closely, when, slipping from his fingers, it fell to the floor with a loud crash,

and the next moment the alarmed miser rushed into the apartment. Seeing a stranger, at such an hour, in the sanctuary of the god of his idolatry, he uttered a piercing scream, and throwing himself upon the robber, grappled him with almost supernatural strength. Vainly did Abimelech endeavour to escape from the old man's grasp, or to still his screams: every moment increased his danger: he heard the steps of persons ascending the stairs: not an instant was to be lost; the dagger which Zorah had given him was in his girdle; he drew it, and plunged it into the heart of the old man. A piercing shriek rung through the chamber, and the unfortunate Aaron Ben Rabiat fell lifeless on the floor. Instead of providing for his safety, the guilty Rabbi stood petrified with horror over the quivering body of his victim, watching the life-stream welling from his side in a bubbling tide. When the persons attracted by the publican's screams entered the room, he made no attempt to escape, but surrendered himself quietly into their hands. He was instantly hurried to prison, and, amidst the revilings of the crowd, was plunged into a dark, noisome dungeon, to await the public ignominy of a trial on the following day, in the sight of that people before whom he had set himself up as an example of righteousness. Dashing himself on the earth, he lay writhing in bitter agony, cursing the hour of his birth and the fatal madness which had led his steps from the paths of virtue; when suddenly a ray of light illuminated his prisonhe looked up-it was Zorah. Her eyes' dark orbs still shone with undiminished lustre; but there was in the proud smile which curled her elevated lip an expression of demoniac triumph, which chilled the Rabbi's blood. Hiding his face in his robe, he exclaimed:

"False tempter, begone. I have done thy bidding-and lo! innocent blood is upon my hands. I am broken and trodden under foot like a defiled thing. The cup of my pride has been filled with gall. Depart, therefore, I pray thee, lest in the bitterness of my wrath I curse thee also."

vain-glorious man shall fall in the snare of his own heart.' The time hath come, and thou couldst not stand fast."

"Racca! art thou there?" shouted Abimelech, as he recognised in the speaker the voice of the mendicant to whom he had given alms at the Water Gate on the previous evening. Burning with rage, he seized the prophet of evil by the throat; but the strength of the old man far exceeded his own, and he flung him to the earth with a violence that shook his frame. Starting up he beheld, not the old beggar of the Water Gate, nor the tempter Zorah. He was alone, not in the dungeon of a prison, but in his little chamber, with a yellow harvest moon streaming through the lattice. Several minutes elapsed before he could convince himself that the horrors he had undergone were but the airy painting of a dream, and then, prostrating himself upon the ground, he exclaimed in the fulness of his heart, "It is a lesson from the Lord-I was proud of my own strength, and when the trial came, I was delivered to the Evil One."

From that day forth the Rabbi Abimelech walked in the paths of humility. He had experienced the dangers of self-confidence, and he learned to pity rather than condemn those who, like himself, had fallen in the struggle with The Tempter.

BEAU BRUMMEL.