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And now their path begins to cross the spur of a mountain on the left, which presently conceals old Tabor from the sight. Before them, however, a few miles distant, bleak Gilboa presents his rocky northern side. Toward this they now direct their steps, crossing as they go the fertile valley of Jezreel.

This celebrated vale, forming an arm of the great Esdraelon plain, here stretches eastwardly away, between steep hills, toward the shores of Jordan. And through its narrow vista of freshest verdure stand, revealed in far perspective, the towers of Scythopolis, and lofty heights of Bashan.

“ Across this ridge,” continues Eliezer, pointing to the left, and pleased to show his legendary lore to so ready a listener, “ went the Godforsaken Saul to crave unlawful converse with the dead. And he had his wish. God permitted the gates of Death to yield up their cloudy captive, and an old man came up, covered with a mantle. It was Samuel.

And he said, • Why hast thou disquieted me, to bring me up? To-morrow thou and thy sons shall be with me! And even so it came to pass. There before us, under steep Gilboa, Jonathan and the host were lying. Just behind us, in old Shunem, was the Philistine camp. Upon this very ground beneath our feet, they joined battle, and when Israel fled, the chase lay forward across the hills, where now you see yon Roman fortress perched upon the barren rock. There Samuel's prophecy was accomplished !"

Oppressed with sadness at the recital, the travelers now relapse into silence, and move along for several moments buried in melancholy revery. At length we hear breathed forth, in almost Æolian softness, by a voice sad, low, and of peculiar sweetness and pathos, disconnected stanzas of an ancient dirge:

“Ye mountains of Gilboa! let there be no dew,

Neither let there be rain upon you, nor fields of offerings;
For there the shield of the mighty is vilely cast away,
The shield of Saul, as though he had not been anointed with


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“Saul and Jonathan were lovely and pleasant in their lives,

And in their death they were not divided.”

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“How are the mighty fallen in the midst of the battle!
O Jonathan! thou wast slain in thy high places.
I am distressed for thee, my brother Jonathan :
Very pleasant hast thou been unto me;
Thy love to me was wonderful,
Passing the love of woman.
How are the mighty fallen,
And the weapons of war perished !"

And as these tones of tender sorrow melt into the soul, we almost believe we hear an echo of that olden harp, whose strings, a thousand years ago, swept by ancestral hand, first quivered in this royal chant of woe ; for, beneath that gentle exterior of the simple Jewish girl, we have often delighted to conceive, were hidden all the poetic ardors and lofty enthusiasm of her ancient sire. It was meet they should revive in her-that David should live again in Mary.

Thus was she formed in sympathy with all the mighty themes of those sacred oracles; thus fitted to transmit a similar fineness of temperament, and to kindle, by her early teachings, the fervors of an opening mind in study of the Eternal Word. Thus the son of Mary would be son of David in a most engaging and emphatic sense.

Arriving at length at a fountain bubbling through the sand at the base of the cliff, they alight awhile, to spend the sultry noontide hour beneath some shady palms. Then, in the cool of day, resuming their journey, they climb the steep path that winds westward, to the top of the precipitous heights of Jezreel, whose massive walls, and gates, and fertile suburbs adorn the summit as with a crown.

Avoiding each frequented thoroughfare, they turn southeastwardly, and follow narrow bypaths through sequestered spots, along the brow of the mountain overlooking the valley they have just been crossing.

“Here, along these heights,” cries Eliezer, summoning more cheerful memories to dispel their sadness, “was Gideon's camp of old." Then pausing awhile, and slowly waving his extended hand above the scene below, There beneath us,” he continues, “ Midian and Amalek, and all the children of the East, lay along in the valley like grasshoppers for multitude, and their camels were without number as the sand by the sea-side. By yon narrow pathway he and Phurah descended in the night unto the host, and heard the dream of the Midianite concerning the barley-cake which overthrew the tent; and then they returned, encouraged, to lead the attack. It was the dead of night. All was still—thousands buried in dreamless slumber—when suddenly, on every side, trumpets sounded, torches blazed, and voices shouted, "The sword of the Lord and of Gideon!' And all that startled host ran, and cried, and fled! Away they went yonder to the Jordan, every man's sword against his fellow, and all Naphtali, Asher, and Manasseh mustering to the chase! Wonderful scene !" continues the old man, waxing warm with martial enthusiam; “singular order of battle! A

shout, a Aash, a trumpet blast, and the vengeance was complete! Ah! daughter, let me whisper in thine ear, and to thine inmost soul, a thought of triumph. A greater day was there foreshadowed, which would God these old eyes might behold, when the children of Israel and the children of Judah shall be gathered together, and appoint themselves one head, and come up out of the land, and great shall be the day of Jezreel !!

“Is it even so, my father ?” asks the profoundly attentive maiden.

“So it is written,” he replies; "and though these accursed Roman towers profane every height, and her legions move every where across our soil, yet so it shall come to pass, for the zeal of the Lord of Hosts will do this."

So conversing, they turn reluctant from the noble prospect, and urge in silence their southward evening way.

Falling a little behind her guide, in a voice so modulated as not to reach his ear, Mary murmurs to herself,

" Then! then shall be broken the yoke of his burden,

And the staff of his oppressor,
As in the day of Midian.
For every battle of the warrior is with confused noise,
And garments rolled in blood;
But this shall be with burning and fuel of fire.
For unto us-'"

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