to the full maturity of their growth. Through their tangled depths, where the foot of man had never trodden, ranged the monsters of the primal world, whom the order of nature, or the enmity of man, has long since extirpated. Large herds of these would occasionally stray from their usual haunts to invade the cultivated plots of land scattered over the neighbouring plains; and trampling under foot the feeble opposition which the owners could offer, would lay waste all before them and return in safety to their native forests. Other dangers also, of a more deadly description, would from time to time assail the peaceful inhabitants. Bands of armed robbers, led usually by some petty chief who had established his stronghold in the adjoining mountains, and assumed to himself the title of king, would suddenly fall upon their cattle, or carry off their daughters and handmaids to their rocky fastnesses. On these occasions the male population of the neighbourhood would arm and unite in pursuit; and sometimes after much toil and bloodshed, recover the spoil from the invaders, and sometimes leave their own bones to whiten in the mountain passes. But the boundless prodigality with which nature poured forth her fruits from the bosom of the virgin soil, soon effaced the ravages of the wild animals; and the no less rapid growth of population, whose vigour had not yet been impaired by disease, luxury or vice, speedily filled up the gaps in families, which the more deadly inroads of human marauders might occasion. Every head of a family was its priest, ruler, and judge; assigned to every member his place and office; distributed rewards and inflicted punishments, undisturbed alike by interference from without,

or resistance from within, the circle of his petty dominions.

It was evening. The long dark shadows of the mountains had gradually extended themselves over the plain; and the delicious coolness which, succeeding to the burning heat of day, constitutes one of the chief charms of an Eastern night, had begun to pervade the atmosphere. Round a well, which formed the centre of a large encampment, was gathered a group of youths and maidens, engaged in the laborious task of supplying water to herds of sheep and oxen, the sole wealth of those early times: and the low murmur of conversation, mixed occasionally with half-subdued sounds of jest and laughter, came pleasantly on the ear. At the door of his tent, supported by cushions of sheepskin, and wrapped in a long mantle of woollen cloth, folded round his body and gathered in a hood over his head, was seated an aged man, the chief and father of the tribe. His noble features bore freshly the stamp of the divine original in which the first of the human race had been moulded; for between him and his great ancestor but eleven generations had intervened. Though his form was bowed and his locks. whitened by more than three hundred winters, he was still hale and vigorous. The light of his full clear eye told of an intellect still unimpaired, and the deep respect and affection with which all whom he occasionally addressed, hearkened to his words, showed that he was one, who was not only obeyed but loved. Yet notwithstanding the general calmness of his demeanour, a watchful eye could detect a half-suppressed restlessness in the glances he cast from time to time in the direction of a high conical rock, on the summit of

which stood a youth of about twenty years of age; watching it seemed for the approach of some expected traveller.

"The hour of moonrise has long passed," at last he exclaimed. "Can you see nothing of him, Sheva, my son ?"

"Nothing," replied the youth. "I can distinctly see the whole track as far as the great date-grove, and there is nothing moving any where on it."

Strange!" exclaimed the old man. Surely these men, robbers as they are, would not break their solemn pledge to restore my child, if her ransom should be paid. And yet I know not: robbery and bloodshed deaden the conscience. O Rizpah! dearest of the daughters of my old age, loveliest of all that these eyes have rested on, if thou returnest not in honour and safety, what will my life avail me? 0 man, man! how happy might this world be, the gracious heritage bestowed by the great Father on his children, if ye defiled and embittered it not by your selfish lusts and violence!"

He was startled by a sudden exclamation from the youth.

"My father," he said, "I see a dark figure coming slowly this way from the date-grove; but it is not Arvad, or my eyes deceive me. No," he added, after a few moments' pause, "it is not Arvad; nor is it any one of our kindred and people: his complexion is darker, and his dress different. It is a wayfaring man, and he seems worn with travel. Will you not rise, and bid him welcome, father Sivan ?"

The old man rose, with the calmness of natural dignity. "Welcome," said he, as the traveller drew

near; "welcome, stranger, to the shadow of my roof. Blessed be the feet that have brought thee to the tents of Sivan the Elamite! Thou art wearied and worn; rest thee here in peace, till thy repast be prepared, and thy couch spread." So saying, he pointed to the heap of skins on which he had been reposing, and which afforded ample accommodation for the stranger as well as himself, and then resumed. his seat.

The wayfarer, with a graceful inclination of the head, and a few words of acknowledgment, hastened to comply; while the maidens, who had witnessed his arrival, busied themselves with preparations for his entertainment. Some brought water in ewers from the well to wash his feet, some spread a pile of sheepskins in an adjoining tent, and others arranged on a low table of rough wood a frugal supper of milk, honey, fresh cheese, and dates.

Sivan and his guest scrutinized each other with the grave silence of Eastern manners. The costume of the traveller was, as Sheva had said, wholly distinct from that of his host; and would, independently of any difference of language and complexion, have stamped him as one of a foreign race. It consisted of a long gown or vest descending to the feet, with sleeves, which would have reached below the fingers, but that they were gathered in folds at the wrist. Round the waist was wound a coloured scarf, which displayed some attempt at ornament. His head, which was closely shaven, was covered by a large cap of thick woollen material, and his feet were protected by sandals of leather, with high sides, fastened round the ankles with straps: the points of

the sandals being very long, and twisted at the end, in the shape of a horn. In his hand he carried a long staff of wood, inlaid with metal, which appeared to serve the double purpose of a support by the way, and a weapon of defence. Sivan was still engaged in his scrutiny, when a second cry from Sheva arrested his attention.

"My father," he exclaimed, one cometh from the date-grove; and, surely, this time it is Arvad; but I fear he beareth no good tidings; for he moveth slowly and unwillingly, as they come not, whose errand hath been prosperous."

As he spoke Arvad entered the encampment, and proceeding straight to the spot where Sivan was still seated, bowed his forehead to the ground before him. Then rising up, he stood silent, as waiting to be questioned.

"The blessing of God be on thee, Arvad, my son! Bringest thou tidings of Rizpah, the daughter of Meshech ?"

"Tidings I bring, O venerable Sivan! yet such as it grieveth me to tell, as it will thee to hear. I repaired me to the caverns where Arioch the robber hath made his abode. I offered him the ransom thou entrustedst to me, and demanded the restoration of our sister. He heard me patiently, and in silence, and replied that he would willingly have given back the damsel, but that she was no longer his captive."

"How ?-not his captive? - Hath she escaped then? and if so, why hath she not sought our tents ere this ?"

"My father, she is the captive of one stronger and more terrible than Arioch. As he returned from the