Her more thoughtful sons and daughters will forbear to curse their first mother. The blame they attach to her will be mingled with pity. Yet no one can compute the sorrow-the deep, heartbreaking sorrow, that has been felt by millions in remembrance of her fall. They have thought of her as, in the days of her innocence, she stood the loveliest ornament of a lovely world,-whose beauty and grace were such as that the inspired pen forbore, as of the forms of angels, to portray them; who was ushered, a perfect being, upon a scene of perfect happiness; whose guiltless bosom swelled with naught save peace, and joy, and love; across whose delighted vision there flitted no images of sin, or grief, or drooping sickness, or noisome graves; whose rejoicing spirit was as unconscious as the laughing infant's, of direful changes, or dying scenes, along the illimitable future; whose form of beauty, and flowing tresses, and every line and feature of enchanting gracefulness, were fashioned for immortality; who looked up upon her husband, and, reading there at once the image of God and the counterpart and companion of herself, leaned toward him with a love ineffable, and hailed there the charm of her soul and the completion of her blessedness; who, side by side with him, as they roamed amid those groves, held long communings with superior beings, and listened to the songs of angels swelling afar, and heard the footsteps of the Lord God, and, in their innocence, were not afraid.

The heart weeps as it meditates that such bliss as this should, all suddenly, be crushed forever; that the fair garniture of the virgin earth should, as in a moment, be displaced by thorns and briers, and all unsightly and noxious things. O! there are tears for the cloudless morning of that daythe day when sin and death were let loose along this world-when beauty, formed for eternal bloom, began to fade, and the image of heaven was effaced from the human spirit-and the serpent first nestled there-and the sting of woe first entered the soul-and tears of bitterness first fell-and the smiles of the Eternal were withdrawn, to be replaced by his frown and curse, for the sake of man. The mind is reluctant to look upon the sad afterpart. Where goes she who, just now, was fairer and happier than since have been all the daughters of men? Is she driven away from that garden of beauty and of safety, to return no more? Hears she some dreadful note assuring her of "sorrows greatly multiplied ?"

And retiring from her early home-the home of unsullied peace-do other suns now light upon her? Do frightful storms beat upon her head? Does she grow weary and faint? Does she pine in sickness? Is she fading into age? Her husband, also; is he greatly changed? Amid all, does she remember the days of her fair morning of existence? Does every pain, and every discordant sound, and frowning look, and fading brow, and every noise of strife and mur

der, and each venomous and poisonous breath, and all dark and mournful prospects, and every ghastly dying scene; do they forever whisper of the joys that were hers, when away in that garden of innocence and unfading happiness?

The time spent by our first parents in a state of innocency is not known, although there are indications that it was but brief. The fatal facility of Eve's deception impresses us that she had but begun to taste of life; that the world to which she was introduced was still rising before her under aspects of novelty and freshness, and awaking within her breast a curiosity as childlike as it was intense. Then, again, she had no offspring while yet unfallen. This fact, taken in connection with the command of God to our first parents in reference to posterity, is almost, if not quite conclusive that their days of innocence were few indeed. And further still. Cain and Abel, though born after the fall, had come to manhood, and Abel had been murdered before the birth of Seth; at which time their parents were one hundred and thirty years of age. Considering the protracted youth and manhood of the race at that period, it seems fair to infer, therefore, that those years had almost all elapsed since the transgression. After the fall, we trace our first mother to the birth of Seth; from which period she is not named, and there is no record of the duration of her life. We may, however, very nearly identify her life with that of her husband;

and as he still lived for hundreds of years subsequently to the birth of Seth, and sons and daughters were born to him, we may count his history, so far as given, to have been that of his wife. They both lived long-very long, and then-they died!

There is unfathomable-awful mystery in the catastrophe of Eve. Let not her daughters be too inquisitive and too censorious respecting her. Beware that ye charge not God foolishly, nor cherish a reproachful thought touching his inscrutable Providence. The solemn voice from that great disaster whispers rather, Beware of the ancient Serpent! He is still abroad; his beguilings have not ceased, and his devices are many; his darts fly in every direction; he seeks whom he may devour; and millions are led captive by him at his will. Forget not that naught, save One, can bruise him under your feet. With the promised and great Deliverer, there is safety and eternal victory. Away from him, there is certain capture and ruin.

Sarah.

SARAH, who was originally named Sarai, was the daughter of Terah, was born in Ur of the Chaldees, and became the wife of the illustrious Abraham. Subsequently to their marriage, and by revelation to Abraham, the family, consisting of

her husband, her father, and Lot, emigrated to Haran, where Terah ended his days, at the age of two hundred and five years. After his death, Abraham and Lot again removed westward, and went to Canaan, which was then in possession of the original race inhabiting that region of country. Here Abraham was favored with special and repeated revelations from God; was promised that the land to which he had come should be given to his posterity, and he became great in wealth and power.

Sarah appears to have been a woman of extraordinary beauty of person, which she retained to a very late period of her life; so that, at ninety years of age, she attracted the attention and love of Abimelech, king of Gerar; he being unaware of her relation to Abraham. At the age of seventy-five years, having relinquished the idea of bearing children, she sought, according to a usage not unknown to those times, to gain posterity by proxy. Accordingly she gave to her husband as a wife her bondmaid Hagar, who became the mother of Ishmael. At the very advanced age of ninety, however, Sarah also, and by an extraordinary providence, gave birth to a son, who was Isaac, and heir of the special and Divine promises which had been made to Abraham. After the birth of her son, Sarah survived about thirtyseven years, and died at Kirjath-arba, afterwards. Hebron, aged one hundred and twenty-seven years.