HAGAR AND ISHMAEL.
[Illustration: Letter H.]
Hagar and Ishmael departed early on the day fixed for their removal, Abraham furnishing them with the necessary supply of travelling provisions. "And Abraham arose up early in the morning, and took bread and a bottle of water, and gave it unto Hagar, putting it on her shoulder, and she went away." The bottle here mentioned was probably made of the skin of a goat, sewn up, leaving an opening in one of the legs to serve as a mouth. Such skin bottles are still commonly used in Western Asia for water, and are borne slung across the shoulders, just as that of Hagar was placed.
It seems to have been the intention of Hagar to return to her native country, Egypt; but, in spite of the directions she received, the two travellers lost their way in the southern wilderness, and wandered to and fro till the water, which was to have served them on the road, was altogether spent. The lad, unused to hardship, was soon worn out.
Overcome by heat and thirst, he seemed at the point of death, when the afflicted mother laid him down under one of the stunted shrubs of this dry and desert region, in the hope of his getting some relief from the slight damp which the shade afforded. The burning fever, however, continued unabated; and the poor mother, forgetting her own sorrow, destitute and alone in the midst of a wilderness, went to a little distance, unable to witness his lingering sufferings, and then "she lifted up her voice and wept." But God had not forgotten her: a voice was heard in the solitude, and an Angel of the Lord appeared, uttering words of comfort and promises of peace. He directed her to a well of water, which, concealed by the brushwood, had not been seen by her. Thus encouraged, Hagar drew a refreshing draught, and hastening to her son, "raised him by the hand," and gave him the welcome drink, which soon restored him. This well, according to the tradition of the Arabs, who pay great honour to the memory of Hagar, is Zemzem, near Mecca.
[Illustration: HAGAR AND ISHMAEL.]
After this, we have no account of the history of Ishmael, except that he established himself in the wilderness of Paran, near Mount Sinai, and belonged to one of the tribes by which the desert was frequented. He was married, by his mother, to a countrywoman of her own, and maintained himself and his family by the produce of his bow. Many of the Arabian tribes have been proud to trace their origin to this son of the Patriarch Abraham.
THE HOLLY BOUGH.
[Illustration: Letter Y.]
Ye who have scorn'd each other, Or injured friend or brother, In this fast fading year; Ye who, by word or deed, Have made a kind heart bleed, Come gather here.
Let sinn'd against, and sinning, Forget their strife's beginning, And join in friendship now; Be links no longer broken, Be sweet forgiveness spoken Under the Holly-bough.
Ye who have loved each other, Sister and friend and brother, In this fast fading year; Mother and sire and child, Young man and maiden mild, Come gather here; And let your hearts grow fonder, As Memory shall ponder Each past unbroken vow: Old loves and younger wooing Are sweet in the renewing Under the Holly-bough.
Ye who have nourish'd sadness.
Estranged from hope and gladness, In this fast fading year; Ye with o'erburden'd mind, Made aliens from your kind, Come gather here.
Let not the useless sorrow Pursue you night and morrow, If e'er you hoped, hope now-- Take heart, uncloud your faces, And join in our embraces Under the Holly-bough.
MACKAY
[Illustration: THE HOLLY CART.]
THE UNIVERSE.
To us who dwell on its surface, the earth is by far the most extensive orb that our eyes can any where behold; but, to a spectator placed on one of the planets, it looks no larger than a spot. To beings who dwell at still greater distances, it entirely disappears. That which we call alternately the morning and the evening star, as in the one part of the orbit she rides foremost in the procession of night, in the other ushers in and anticipates the dawn, is a planetary world, which, with the five others that so wonderfully vary their mystic dance, are in themselves dark bodies, and shine only by reflection; have fields, and seas, and skies of their own; are furnished with all accommodations for animal subsistence, and are supposed to be the abodes of intellectual life. All these, together with our earthly habitation, are dependent on the sun, receive their light from his rays, and derive their comfort from his benign agency. The sun, which seems to us to perform its daily stages through the sky, is, in this respect, fixed and immovable; it is the great axle about which the globe we inhabit, and other more spacious orbs, wheel their stated courses. The sun, though apparently smaller than the dial it illuminates, is immensely larger than this whole earth, on which so many lofty mountains rise, and such vast oceans roll. A line extending from side to side through the centre of that resplendent orb, would measure more than 800,000 miles: a girdle formed to go round its circumference, would require a length of millions. Are we startled at these reports of philosophers? Are we ready to cry out in a transport of surprise, "How mighty is the Being who kindled such a prodigious fire, and keeps alive from age to age such an enormous mass of flame!" Let us attend our philosophic guides, and we shall be brought acquainted with speculations more enlarged and more inflaming. The sun, with all its attendant planets, is but a very little part of the grand machine of the universe; every star, though in appearance no bigger than the diamond that glitters upon a lady's ring, is really a vast globe like the sun in size and in glory; no less spacious, no less luminous, than the radiant source of the day: so that every star is not barely a world, but the centre of a magnificent system; has a retinue of worlds irradiated by its beams, and revolving round its attractive influence--all which are lost to our sight. That the stars appear like so many diminutive points, is owing to their immense and inconceivable distance. Immense and inconceivable indeed it is, since a ball shot from a loaded cannon, and flying with unabated rapidity, must travel at this impetuous rate almost 700,000 years, before it could reach the nearest of these twinkling luminaries.
While beholding this vast expanse I learn my own extreme meanness, I would also discover the abject littleness of all terrestrial things.
What is the earth, with all her ostentatious scenes, compared with this astonishingly grand furniture of the skies? What, but a dim speck hardly perceptible in the map of the universe? It is observed by a very judicious writer, that if the sun himself, which enlightens this part of the creation, were extinguished, and all the host of planetary worlds which move about him were annihilated, they would not be missed by an eye that can take in the whole compass of nature any more than a grain of sand upon the sea-shore. The bulk of which they consist, and the space which they occupy, are so exceedingly little in comparison of the whole, that their loss would leave scarce a blank in the immensity of God's works. If, then, not our globe only, but this whole system, be so very dimunitive, what is a kingdom or a country? What are a few lordships, or the so-much-admired patrimonies of those who are styled wealthy? When I measure them with my own little pittance, they swell into proud and bloated dimensions; but when I take the universe for my standard, how scanty is their size, how contemptible their figure; they shrink into pompous nothings!
ADDISON.
ODE TO ST. CECILIA.
[Illustration]
Now strike the golden lyre again: A louder yet, and yet a louder strain.
Break his bands of sleep asunder, And rouse him, like a rattling peal of thunder.
Hark, hark, the horrid sound Has raised up his head, As awaked from the dead, And amazed, he stares around.
Revenge, revenge, Timotheus cries, See the Furies arise: See the snakes that they rear, How they hiss in their hair, And the sparkles that flash from their eyes!
Behold a ghastly band, Each a torch in his hand!
Those are Grecian ghosts, that in battle were slain, And unburied remain Inglorious on the plain.
Give the vengeance due To the valiant crew.
Behold how they toss their torches on high, How they point to the Persian abodes, And glitt'ring temples of their hostile gods!
The Princes applaud, with a furious joy; And the King seized a flambeau, with zeal to destroy; Thais led the way, To light him to his prey, And, like another Helen, fired another Troy.
Thus, long ago, Ere heaving bellows learn'd to blow, While organs yet were mute; Timotheus, to his breathing flute And sounding lyre, Could swell the soul to rage, or kindle soft desire.
At last divine Cecilia came, Inventress of the vocal frame; The sweet enthusiast, from the sacred store, Enlarged the former narrow bounds, And added length to solemn sounds, With nature's mother-wit, and arts unknown before.
Let old Timotheus yield the prize, Or both divide the crown: He raised a mortal to the skies; She drew an angel down.
DRYDEN
SATIN BOWER-BIRDS.
The Satin Bower-Bird was one of the earliest known species in the Australian fauna, and probably received the name of _Satin Grakle_, by which it was described in Latham's "General History of Birds," from the intensely black glossy plumage of the adult male. But, although the existence of this bird was noticed by most of the writers on the natural history of Australia subsequent to Latham, it appears that no suspicion of its singular economy had extended beyond the remotest settlers, until Mr. Gould, whose great work on the "Birds of Australia" is known to every one, unravelled the history of the _bowers_, which had been discovered in many parts of the bush, and which had been attributed to almost every possible origin but the right one.
The bower, as will be seen by the Illustration, is composed of twigs woven together in the most compact manner, and ornamented with shells and feathers, the disposition of which the birds are continually altering. They have no connexion with the nest, and are simply playing-places, in which the birds divert themselves during the months which precede nidification.
[Illustration: BOWER BIRDS.]
The birds themselves are nearly as large as a jackdaw. The female is green in colour, the centre of the breast feathers yellowish; the unmoulted plumage of the male is similar: the eyes of both are brilliant blue.