The and thus substantiates the sacred narrative. custom of wearing the vail did not prevail in Egypt till after the conquest of that country by the Persians. Greater freedom and equality was enjoyed by the Egyptian women than by those of any other nation. They are represented on the monuments as mingling, without restraint, with the men in all social and domestic affairs, as The power of the master over the slave seems to have been absolute in some cases, even over life and death. Nevertheless, they were generally treated kindly, and looked upon more as members of the family than as menials. Taylor says "that we find from the monuments that the mistress of a mansion was very rigid in enforcing her authority over her female domestics. We see these unfortunate beings trembling and cring-in our own land. This seems a proper place to ing before their superiors, beaten with rods by the overseers, and sometimes threatened with a whip wielded by the lady of the mansion herself.” In other instances, however, they were much better treated, and an affectionate relation seems to exist between the mistress and her slaves. In a tomb at Thebes there is a representation of a lady attended by her slaves, between whom there appears to be very great mutual regard. The children of these slaves followed the condition of the father, and, unlike the custom in America, became members of the family and heirs to the inheritance. say something of the manners and customs of the Egyptian ladies as represented on the monuments. It is a little strange the most important ceremony to young ladies, namely, marriage, is no where represented on the monuments. But Diodorus Siculus says, that they obtained greater authority than has been accorded them in most nations. It was even inserted in the marriage contract that the man was to obey the wife, who was to have the control of all the important affairs of the household. But though Diodorus is not always to be trusted, we know that the women were intrusted with the highest authority, 4. There was famine in Canaan but plenty in even ascending the throne, as in those modern Egypt. Though there is no monumental proof of this proposition, there is abundant proof derived from the character of the two countries. Canaan is a mountainous region-a region of sunshine and showers, and thus subject, like all other like countries, to long seasons of dry weather. But Egypt is not dependent upon rain for her fertility, but upon the annual overflow of the Nile. That Palestine has been accustomed to long famines we learn from the history of the past, while Egypt very seldom suffers from such a calamity. The fact, then, is in harmony with the natural phenomena of the countries and with the observation of the past. 5. Sarah was fair, and was unvailed. When we remember the present rigid and universal practice of the east, and also that these customs have prevailed from the very earliest times, the assertion that Sarah was unvailed will appear quite remarkable. Sarah was from Mesopotamia, where the people were of a light complexion, while the Egyptians, though not as dark as the Ethiopians, were, as we learn from the monuments, of a tawny color, beside whom Sarah would be said to be "very fair." That she was not vailed appears from the fact, that the princes of Pharaoh saw her and reported her beauty to the king. From the earliest times the women were accustomed to be vailed. How happens it then that Sarah was not vailed in Egypt? The monuments answer by showing incontestably that the ancient Egyptians did not follow this custom, countries where the Salic law has not been introduced. Their occupations varied with their sphere of life. Among the pastoral tribes the women tended the sheep, and made the tent cloth, and performed most of the menial services. The peasants did all the labor of the field, tilling the ground, carrying burdens upon their heads, and going to market. Among the higher classes the woman was equal with her lord. Here she is represented as weaving, spinning, and engaged in embroidery. She attended public feasts with her husband, and not alone, as is the custom among the Moslem women. They are represented at the feasts as sitting with the men promiscuously or in little groups by themselves, eagerly engaged in conversation. "Nor were married people afraid of sitting together, and no idea of their having enough of each other's society made it necessary to divide them. In short, they shared the same chair at home, at a party, and even in their tomb, where sculpture grouped them together. The master and mistress accordingly sat together at a party on a large fauteuil, and each guest, as he arrived, walked up and received their welcome. The musicians and the dancers hired for the occasion also did obeisance to them before they began their part. To the leg of the fauteuil was tied a favorite dog, monkey, or gazelle, or some other favorite pet, and a young child was permitted to sit upon the ground, or on its father's knee." "In the mean time the conversation became animated, especially in those parts of the room where the women were grouped together, and the numerous subjects that occurred to them were fluently discussed. Among these the question of dress was not forgotten, and the patterns or the value of the trinkets were examined with proportionate interest. The maker of an earring, or the shop where it was purchased, was anxiously inquired; each compared the workmanship, the style, and the materials of those she wore; coveted her neighbor's or preferred her own; and women of every class vied with each other in the display of 'jewels of silver and jewels of gold,' in the texture of their 'raiment,' the neatness of their sandals, and the arrangement or beauty of their plaited hair."-Wilkinson. Indeed, the entire list of ornaments, as described by Isaiah iii, 18-23, can be made out from the monuments: "The bravery of their tinkling ornaments about their feet, and their cauls, and their round tires, like the moon; the chains, and the bracelets, and the mufflers; the bonnets, and the ornaments of the legs, and the head-bands, and the tablets, and the earrings; the rings and nose-jewels, the changeable suits of apparel, and the mantles, and the wimples, and the crisping-pins; the glasses, and the fine linen, and the hoods, and the vails." I am sorry to say the women are never represented as writing or reading, and hence we presume they had no very decided literary taste. All these scenes remind us of the advanced civilization of the Egyptians and their high social refinements. Herodotus states that the Egyptians could take only one wife, and hence an objection has been raised to the statement, that Pharaoh took Sarah to his harem. The statement of Herodotus is doubtless true; but while each man was allowed only one wife he was not restricted to the number of concubines he might take to his harem. These held a subordinate position to one who was known as the wife or mistress of the mansion. It was to introduce her into his harem that Pharaoh took Sarah; and such liberty we know was in perfect accordance with eastern customs and despotic authority. The whole scene is perfectly oriental in character, and the conduct of Abraham in this case, contrasted with his equal bearing with the kings of Canaan, indicates the power and greatness of the Egyptian nation. 6. The gifts. These gifts are stated to be sheep and oxen, asses and camels, besides slaves. A recent writer has objected that some of these animals were unknown in Egypt, while the horse, which was abundant, is not mentioned. But more extensive observation of the ruins has shown, by numerous representations, that these were all abundant in ancient Egypt except the camel. No representation of the camel has been found upon the monuments. But we know that it was possessed by neighboring states, and hence the probability, at least, that the king would possess them. In regard to the horse there are a great many representations of them on the monuments, chiefly used for war. Only one representation of a person on horseback has been found. Although horses were thus abundant in Egypt, we know that they were not introduced among the Israelites till the time of the kings, and were not used in peace or war in the time of Joshua. How unlikely, then, that they would be used in the simple pastoral times of Abraham. Hence, the omission of horses rather goes to show the authenticity of the sacred record: since any one writing the history later than the kings would have been likely to mention horses among the gifts, which would have been altogether useless to Abraham. It has been supposed by some that Hagar was one of the maid-servants which Abraham received at that time. If so, the Egyptians must have held some of their own nation in servitude; and this conclusion is sustained by the representations upon the monuments. Thus we see that modern discovery has but strengthened the proof of the authenticity of the sacred record in relating this episode in the life of Abraham. man. THE MISSIONARY'S WIFE. THERE is something exceedingly interesting in a missionary's wife. She who has been cherished as a plant that the winds must not breathe on too rudely, recovers from a separation from her friends to find herself in a land of barbarians, where her loud cry of distress can never reach their ears. New ties twine round her heart, and the tender and helpless girl changes her very nature, and becomes the staff and support of the In his hours of despondency she raises his drooping spirits: she bathes his aching head, and smooths his pillow of sickness. I have entered her dwelling, and have been welcome as a brother; sometimes, when I have known any of her friends at home, I have been for a moment more than recompensed for all the toils and privations of a traveler in the east. And when I left her dwelling it was with a mind burdened with remembrances to friends whom she will perhaps never see again, IN MEMORY.. ON THE DEATH OF OTWAY CURRY. BY COATES-KINNEY. FROM Mexic and Floridian climes, The spring birds warble back; For grass is sprouting on the grave Or blooms, or leaves, or fruits, Death froze him when the brooklet froze, Pining for him and them But, melted now to gurgling sobs, Young Nature dons her gown of green And blossoms into smiles; These merry April whiles; It is a weary, weary world dy To him whose aim is high-916 Strained tiptoe toward the stars, without The angel wings to fly! this narrow life, im But, nestled in th The soul, here blind and bare, Nurtured and brooded o'er by Faith, Shall fledge to angel there. He kept climbing up to heaven And this his fame sublime, PACK The golden rounds of rhyme. 1065 Like midnight thunder on the hills,} Some flashing lives go out, And leave the jarred world blind and mazed aid. In wonder and in doubt; But he departed like the eve, Flocked after by the stars; The starshine of his memory No cloud of envy mars. avobesm Ohio ne'er h has lost a son More worthy her regret; The west has comets yet of songHer planet, though, has set; JANNATI UDV Our country weakens with the wanted-uldon of good, true men like him, wyew bu teoart To guard her tree of liberty,men Like Eden's cherubim. la Earth, through her thousand million men, May search the centuries, Nor find a burning soul lived forth More holily than his: His pure life reached up into heaven, PHANTOM BUILDING. BY ELIZABETH C. WRIGHT. A FOOTSTEP in the dust we trace, And then, of him whose step was there, We build above that lowly place A phantom figure in the air. Lorn Crusoe saw a shadow host Hold savage orgies on the strand, Because upon that barren coast 7 A human footstep pressed the sand. The Arab bites his wordless lip To see an armed train pass by, When naught of barb or "desert ship," Save footprints meets his searching eye. We see a dead stalk on a wall, And suddenly to golden bloom There bursts through every death-spell's thrall, The wall-flower's phantom o'er its tomb. A snowless winter walk we take, Through some deserted graveyard old, Where 'neath our feet the scentless brake And grass lie withered, brown, and cold. Their rustling crush recalls their past, Like magic life-word to them spoke; Their brown arms up toward heav'n they cast; Their win'try doom of thralldom broke. Up from the dull and frozen mold, Transfigured springs the fragrant fern, And swaying grass and daisies bold Smile round each solemn gravestone's urn. We pass. Some trailing brambles clasp Fast to our skirts with hooked thorn; We stoop to loose this tightening grasp Of stems, of life and verdure shorn. We cast the rough incumbrance down, When, full-leaved, up before us rise, With berries bowed, these briers brown, Grown green and strong before our eyes. Can summer skies melt bonds of death With surer skill than this we share? Dare magic words in whispered breath, Evoke more phantoms than we dare? What matter for the driving storms W The drifting snows-life's wintrier parts; While in us live all glowing formsCreative summer, in our hearts? WE'RE ALL COMING. BY VIRGINIA F. TOWNSEND. "No, indeed, papa. People always expect to be generous at donations. Beside, I remember our last one-don't I, though? It was nine years ND now it is at last really settled. Elder ago, and I verily believe I did nothing for a "A Green told in a basis very afternoon, with month afterward but look at the presents I re a twinkle of unusual satisfaction in his eyes.ceived, and show them to mamma and—” the You may depend upon it, he's at the bottom of young girl caught her breath as though some the whole thing, Maggie.” word were trembling on her lip which it were sin "Of course he is. But just to think of it, papa, we are actually to have a 'donation.' There'll be pyramids of biscuit, and piles of apples, and mountains of cake, and mole-hills of jellies, and lots of other good things. Won't we have a nice time, though?" and Maggie Hiller drew her stool closer to her father's feet, and lifted her sweet face to the one that gazed down fondly upon her. It was a great pity there was no artist looking into the front window of the lit-child's. tle parsonage parlor just at that moment. He might have bequeathed such a sweet picture of the past to us. The room alone would have been this, with the great, old-fashioned fireplace, where the flames rolled in large, golden billows about the huge logs, piled on a pair of burnished and irons that must have been cast in the very same pattern Ben Taylor discourses so charmingly about; there, too, was the large, old clock, set in one corner, its top reaching within a half inch of the ceiling, and the high-back chairs, and the low mantle, and the striped carpet would have been carved in all our memories-a sweet, domestic vision of the olden time. But parson Hiller and his fair child, Maggie, were, after all, the finishing touch of that home tableau. He sat there, the very incarnation of an old Puritan minister, straight, and calm, and stern, with the flame-light rolling over his broad forehead and twisting itself among the hairs that hung about it, white as mountain snows, forming such a picturesque contrast to the brown locks upon which his hand was laid so tenderly. No body called Maggie Hiller handsome, but there were times, and this was one of them, when she was very beautiful. Those plaits of rich hair, gathered back from either cheek, the smiling mouth, with its twin dimples, and those clear, hazel eyes, filled with the light of a heart in the freshness of its nineteenth summer, made Maggie her mother's child, and so doubly the parson's darling, for he was a widower. "Well done, my child, your imagination has certainly run wild and flowered about donationtime. How are you certain, my little Maggie, that you are not counting too largely upon our good friends' purses and pantries?" and the light in that stern face was beautiful as it bent over the girl's. Parson Hiller sprang to his feet as a man does when he is suddenly stung. His face was very white, and its expression of displeasure almost fearful, as he looked down on the trembling girl. "Margaret, how dare you! have I not said that his name " "I know it, father." She had gained courage now and lifted her head, though it seemed as if a stronger spirit than hers would have quailed before that stern rebuke. "I know it, father, and O, forgive me, for I couldn't help it; it has lain so long a burning and a pain at my heart, that at last it would find its way over my lips. O Ralph, my brother!" That cry! it would have melted a heart of stone to hear it. It was so full of deep, undying tenderness, and yet so much grief wailed through it. It must have smote heavily upon the pastor's heart, for his face waxed paler, and the muscles round his strong mouth quivered a little, but this time he did not speak. A moment later and a pair of soft, cool fingers were twisted among the minister's, and a low voice was saying pleadingly, "You won't be angry with me, will you, papa? Now I am all you have to love, too. And I can't help thinking of him, for O he is my brother that I played with under the shadow of the chestnut-trees out yonder; the brother by whose side I have walked so many times through the clover meadows to school; the brother that I loved so dearly! "How proud we all were of him, too, don't you remember, papa? and how generous and noble-hearted he was, though I know he was rash and wayward at times. "How mamma used to love him, too, almost better than she did me, I believe, because he had your own gray eyes and broad, high forehead! I can see her now watching him when we sat down in the evening by her side, till her eyes grew moist with pride and tenderness, and she would bend down and kiss his cheek and say, 'Ralph, my boy, you are your father, every inch of you.' "O it does my heart so much good to speak his name again, papa! It will ease yours, too. Let us sit down here and talk about him and the old time," and very gently she tried to draw him back to the arm-chair. Many changes had passed over parson Hiller's face while his child was speaking, and once or twice he had opened his lips to check her; but the pleading of her eyes was so like a pair that were lying under the snow that the words had died on his lips. But when Maggie would have drawn him to the chair he refused to follow her, and spoke-his voice trembled at first, but it grew strong and stern as he proceeded. "My child, you have to-night violated the most positive command I ever laid upon you. But I know it was the love for him which you could not stifle that caused you to do this, and so, greatly as you have offended, I forgive you. But never, never again ask me to talk of him. He was my child once, but he has never been so since that hour when I turned him from my doors. I talk of him! and what shall I say except to denounce him? Disobedient and reprobate, ay, worse, a thief and a murderer! "It may seem harsh to you, Maggie," continued the parson, for he had heard the low cry that broke from the white lips of his child, "but it is nevertheless true"-he paced up and down the room with strangely agitated steps, and his white hairs shone mournfully in the firelight. "I did not forget that I was a father till duty compelled me. 'Acknowledge your fault and I will forgive it,' I said when he came home and I knew the extent of his crime. "You know how he forgot that I was his parent and answered me. Then I did what the word of God and my duty to my fellow-men demanded. He "And he went out from us, and a curse is upon his head, for he broke his mother's heart. laid her," and here the stern voice grew tremulous as an infant's, "before her hairs were gray, and while her life was in its prime, in the bed where she lies to-night. "And if he should dare to darken my doors again, I would point him to that grave, and say as I said then, 'Go!'" "No, no, papa, you wouldn't—you couldn't!" Maggie sprang suddenly before him, and she looked almost like one inspired as the light of her soul broke into her face. "You couldn't say the word to him when you knew all the time that mother was looking down on you from heaven, and that if she could speak she would bid you 'stop.' "Remember, John,' she would say, that sainted mother, 'he is our boy, our first-born, the child over whose cradle we have watched together, and over whom we have said so many prayers.' "O papa," and the poetry in the girl's nature sprang unconsciously to her lips, "ceasing for a moment the great halleluiah of the just made perfect, my mother bends down and whispers from beyond the stars, 'Forgive him for my sake, John, forgive him.'" And it seemed to the parson-as he looked on the face of his child, wrapped over, as it was, with the light of her spirit-that an angel was speaking; that the voice of his dead wife was calling him. He sank down and buried his face in his hands; the great deeps of his heart were at last broken up, and the tears trickled through his fingers. It is a sad story, and our pen can not linger over it. Enough that in his boyhood Ralph Hiller's impulsive, headstrong nature was always coming in collision with the sternest, harshest points of his father's character. It was a great misfortune, but the two never understood each other. Parson Hiller was a good parent and a Christian, but he was a lineal descendant of the old Massachusetts Puritans, and his high-toned love for right and justice, his calm, rigid, inflexible nature was one which the milder social atmosphere of his own times could not modify, for they were his birthright. Ralph Hiller left home at eighteen. With all his faults there were many rich veins in his ardent, impulsive nature; but if his father's regimen had been too severe, that of his gentle mother had been too indulgent, and so neither had succeeded in harmonizing the discordant elements of his character. A few words will tell the rest. He entered the large mercantile house of his uncle in New York. The relaxation of all parental discipline proved too sudden, for Ralph was unacquainted with the world, and his country life had little fitted him to be his own master. It is the old story-he was decoyed into a gambling saloon, induced to drink freely, and finally to play. Of course he was at first successful, and this prompted him to stake larger sums of money. Then the |