To any lance of pain that sought your breast.
And once, when you lay ill within your tent,
No taste of water, or of bread, or wine

Passed through my lips; and all night long I lay
Upon the mat before your door to catch

The sound of your dear voice, and scarcely dared
To breathe, lest she, my mistress, should come forth
And drive me angrily away; and when

The stars looked down with eyes that only stared
And hurt me with their lack of sympathy,
Weeping, I threw my longing arms around
Benammi's neck. Your good horse understood
And gently rubbed his face against my head,
To comfort me. But if you had one kind,
One loving thought of me in all that time,
That long, heart-breaking time, you kept it shut
Close in your bosom as a tender bud

And did not let it blossom into words.

Your tenderness was all for Sara. Through

The door, kept shut against my love, there came

No message to poor Hagar, almost crazed

With grief lest you should die. Ah! you have been So cruel and so cold to me, my lord;

And now you send me forth with Ishmael,

Not on a journey through a pleasant land

Upon a camel, as my mistress rides,

With kisses, and sweet words, and dates and wine,
But cast me off, and sternly send me forth
Into the wilderness with these poor gifts-
A jug of water and—a loaf of bread—
That sound was not a sob; I only lost

My breath and caught it hard again. Go back!
Why do you follow me? I am a poor
Bondswoman, but a woman still, and these
Sad memories, so bitter and so sweet,
Weigh heavily upon my breaking heart
And make it hard, my lord-for me to go.

"Your god commands it?" Then my gods, the

gods

Of Egypt, are more merciful than yours.

Isis and good Osiris never gave

Command like this, that breaks a woman's heart,

To any prince in Egypt. Come with me
And let us go and worship them, dear lord.

Leave all your wealth to Sara. Sara loves
The touch of costly linen and the scent
Of precious Chaldean spices, and to bind
Her brow with golden fillets, and perfume
Her hair with ointment. Sara loves the sound
Of many cattle lowing on the hills;

And Sara loves the slow and stealthy tread

Of many camels moving on the plains.

Hagar loves you. Oh! come with me, dear lord.

Take but your staff and come with me; your mouth

Shall drink my share of water from this jug
And eat my share of bread with Ishmael;
And from your lips I will refresh myself

With love's sweet wine from tender kisses pressed.
Ah! come, dear lord. Oh! come, my Abraham.
Nay, do not bend your cold, stern brows on me
So frowningly; it was not Hagar's voice

That spoke those pleading words.
Go back! Go back.
And tell your god I hate him, and I hate
The cruel, craven heart that worships him
And dares not disobey. Ha! I believe
'Tis not your far-off, bloodless god you fear
But Sara. Coward! Cease to follow me!
Go back to Sara. See! she beckons now,
Hagar loves not a coward; you do well
To send me forth into the wilderness,
Where hatred hath no weapon keen enough
That held within a woman's slender hand
Could stab a coward to the heart.

I go!

I go, my lord; proud that I take with me
Of all your countless herds by Hebron's brook,
Of all your Canaan riches, naught but this-
A jug of water and a loaf of bread.
And now, by all of Egypt's gods, I swear

If it were not for Ishmael's dear sake

My feet would tread upon this bitter bread,
My hands would pour this water on the sands;
And leave this jug as empty as my heart

Is empty now of all the reverence
And overflowing love it held for you.
I go !

But I will teach my little Ishmael

To hate his father for his mother's sake.
His bow shall be the truest bow that flies
Its arrows through the desert air. His feet
The fleetest on the desert's burning sands;

Aye! Hagar's son a desert prince shall be,
Whose hand shall be against all other men;
And he shall rule a fierce and mighty tribe,
Whose fiery hearts and supple limbs will scorn
The chafing curb of bondage, like the fleet
Wild horses of Arabia.

I go !

But like this loaf that you have given me,
So shall your bread taste bitter with my hate;
And like the water in this jug, my lord,

So shall the sweetest water that you draw
From Canaan's wells, taste salty with my tears.

Farewell! I go, but Egypt's mighty gods
'Will go with me, and my avengers be.
And in whatever distant land your god,
Your cruel god of Israel, is known,

There, too, the wrongs that you have done this day

To Hagar and your first-born, Ishmael,

Shall waken and uncoil themselves, and hiss

Like adders at the name of Abraham.

ELIZA POITEVENT NICHOLSON.

AN EASTER WITH PAREPA.

Contributed by Frederick Immen, Grand Rapids, Michigan.

WH

HEN Parepa was here she was everywhere the people's idol. The great opera houses in all our cities and towns were thronged. There were none to criticise or carp. Her young, rich, grand voice was beyond compare. Its glorious tones are

remembered with an enthusiasm like that which greeted her when she sung.

Her company played in New York during the Easter holidays, and I, as an old friend, claimed some of her leisure hours. We were friends in Italy, and this Easter day was to be spent with me.

At eleven in the morning she sang at one of the large churches; I waited for her, and at last we two were alone in my snug little room. At noon the sky was overcast and gray. Down came the snow, whitening the streets and roofs. The wind swept

icy breaths from the water as it came up from the bay and rushed past the city spires and over tall buildings, whirling around us the snow and storm. We had hurried home, shut and fastened our blinds, drawn close the curtains, and piled coal higher on the glowing grate. We had taken off our wraps, and now sat close to the cheery fire for a whole afternoon's blessed enjoyment.

Parepa said, "Mary, this is perfect rest! We shall be quite alone for four hours."

"Yes, four long hours!" I replied. "No rehearsals. no engagements. Nobody knows where you are!" Parepa laughed merrily at this idea.

"Dinner shall be served in this room, and I won't allow even the servant to look at you!" I said.

She clasped her dimpled hands together, like a child in enjoyment, and then sprang up to roll the little centre-table near the grate.

The snow had now turned into sleet; a great chill fell over the whole city. We looked out of our win