Amos, when he informs us that they made images of their gods, and tabernacles for them in the wilderness.

To these views of the condition and pursuits of the Israelites in Egypt, an objection has been made which is easily met and put aside. The text Gen. xlvi. 34, (“That ye shall say, Thy servants' trade hath been about cattle from our youth even until now, both we and also our fathers: that ye may dwell in the land of Goshen; for every shepherd is an abomination unto the Egyptians.") has been thought to contravene our preceding assertions. It seems here as if they were to be kept in Goshen, in strict separation from the Egyptians, because the occupation of a shepherd was odious and abhorred. But this was not exactly the case. The Egyptians had no dislike to the feeding of flocks; a herdsman was no abomination to them on account of his pastoral employments; it was the nomaIdic life itself, which most shepherds usually led, that they so thoroughly disliked. The nomadic life was regarded as inimical to their national policy.

Be it remembered that the Egyptian state was founded on agriculture; that on this rested not only their laws and customs, but even their religion; that the wandering life necessitated views and habits diametrically contrary; that their nomadic neighbours were their natural enemies ;-and then mark the wisdom which was anxious to separate the Egyptian nation from these external influences, and learn the true reason for the aversion to shepherds which the Egyptians manifested.

There was no personal aversion. This is evident from Joseph's history. His master makes him his steward; Pharaoh exalts him to vice-royalty; and he is allowed to contract a marriage with an Egyptian lady of rank. At the Exodus many Egyptians joined the Israelites (Exod. xii. 38; Num. xi. 4); which proves that any prevalent animosity had been merely a political feeling, engendered by state policy.

In the wilderness the Israelites were again wanderers. But it was by necessity. And it was for punishment, as Hosea notices (xii. 10) when he represents God as threatening that He will yet make his rebellious people to dwell in tabernacles. The institution of the Feast of Tabernacles points to their wandering life in the deserts of Arabia as a peculiar, and not a permanent characteristic of their history. The memory of it was

to be preserved by annual solemnities.

Have we not now sufficiently disposed of the charge that the Hebrews were a rude, nomadic people? Are we not assured that they were precisely the reverse; that they did not wander when they could stay at home; and that when they did stay at home, they progressed in the most refined arts ?

The three objections which we stated in the beginning of this paper must therefore fall to the ground.

If they were not rude wanderers there is nothing strange in their possession of gold and silver, and valuable garments. These are naturally found amongst them; and their mode of obtaining them is explained by Exodus xii. 35, 36.

The peculiar and minute legislation of the Mosaic age stands out to view as in keeping with the habits and pursuits of the Hebrew people. Although still rich in flocks and herds, they were habituated to an agricultural life, and thoroughly skilled in all its processes. The Mosaic laws therefore are not

spurious.

May it not also most reasonably be expected, that if writing were an accomplishment then in vogue, as we are assured it was, these Hebrew immigrants would soon acquire it? We cannot prove their previous ignorance of the art, but assuming it for the sake of the argument, no reason can be alleged why they should not have learned it of their polished neighbours. Moses, who was learned in all the wisdom of the Egyptians, must have known how to write; and this is itself quite

enough to disprove any arguments against the literary honesty of the Pentateuch which are drawn from the traces it contains of the knowledge and use of Writing.

W. M. W.

THE OLD DUTCH CLOCK'S MISTAKE.

THE old Dutch clock stood in a quiet nook on the stairs. Its round, cheerful, bright-looking face, and its pleasant, although rather monotonous tick, tick, tick, had long endeared it to its simple-minded owners. A very useful creature was that old Dutch clock. It got Michael off in good time to his work every morning; saw that the children went punctually to school; directed Martha in the orderly discharge of her few but important duties; and was a nice companion to the old grandmother, when she had-as she often hada sleepless night.

Year after year rolled on, and the old Dutch clock pursued the even tenour of his way, and lifted his warning and cheering voice with all but unvaried regularity. But one winter he got a little out of sorts. The fact was, he got tired of his work. Not that he was idle, and would not work; not that he was feeble, and could not work; but he was discontented, and thought that it was of no use to work. Perhaps the dull winter-for the weather was unusually cold and gloomy that winter-chilled and depressed him; or, perhaps, some part of the machinery within was out of order (both clocks and people are occasionally subject to this internal disarrangement) but certain it is, that one memorable night the old Dutch clock gave up his occupation!

Now I do not mind giving you the details of this strange and unfortunate occurrence; because I am pretty sure that my old friend, the Dutch clock, will

not hear of it again from you; and also because—like all wise writers-I hope to accomplish a good purpose by so doing.

Well then, on a certain memorable night—I remember the exact evening, because Michael's eldest son was at home; poor fellow! he had been at home many weeks out of employment, and had received a letter that evening, the nature of whose contents you will learn hereafter on a certain memorable night, the old Dutch clock was in a very desponding and meditative mood. There was a slowness and half-heartedness in the very movement of his pendulum, which foreboded no good; and if you could have heard his cogitations and conclusions, you would allow that they are fairly described in the following words :

"I am quite tired of my existence! Of what use am I in the world? Everybody knows, without my ding-donging it in their ears, that time passes quickly away; and the bright and beautiful sun-ah! if I could enlighten and gladden the world as he does, I might be worth something is a far truer indicator of its march than I am. Hardly anyone looks at, or listens to me, and when they do, it is generally to grumble and find fault. This is how they talk :-

"Oh dear! there's that tiresome clock striking! I'm sure it can't be so late as he says it is. I wish he would go a little slower.'

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Why can't he move a little faster? he doesn't care a bit what a hurry I'm in; it's nothing to him.' "How loud that clock does tick; he quite disturbs

me!'

“And even if in the day-time I am now and then honoured with a hasty glance or a hasty word from some passer-by, there's nobody wants me, or thinks about me, all the long, dreary, solitary night. Fast asleep in their beds, enjoying their pleasant dreams, it's impossible that I can in any way benefit them. What is the good of keeping on this perpetual tick,

tick, hour after hour, when there isn't a creature to hear it? I might as well be asleep myself. I am wasting my time and my talents here; there are no opportunities of usefulness; no one to whom my life and my labour are of any use. I may as well give up at once; it would be folly to keep on any longer!" With this mournful exclamation, the poor old clock closed the page of his sad experience, and came to a full stop! During the rest of the night-the aged grandmother fortunately was asleep, and did not miss it-his voice was hushed and silent. How he felt, I shall not stop to tell you;—indeed I hardly know that I could-because I want to turn your attention now to the other inmates of that lowly dwelling.

The morning dawned; and Martha fancied, by the degree of light which stole into the room, that it must be nearly six. She lay waiting to hear the clock strike, for she was so cosy and comfortable that she was not willing to move too early; but as six was never obliging enough to strike, she at length jumped out of bed, dressed herself, and ran down to look at the clock. I think she ought to have gone before; but that is no business of mine. She found, to her amazement, that the hands pointed half-past one! The clock, it was plain, had stopped! It was of no use to grumble, for that would not remedy the defect; it was of no use to think of running into a neighbour's to inquire the time, for neighbours there were none within half-a-mile ; and it was of no use to return and look at Michael's old turnip watch, for that was lying at the watchmaker's to be mended.

Well, Martha lighted the fire, put on the kettle, and then roused the rest of her family. Each marvelled at the unwonted failure of the clock, and each assured the other beguiled by the unusual darkness of the day—that it was tolerably early. I do not know whether the sun had become acquainted with the old clock's envious remark respecting himself, and had