And his eyes again fastened upon the smoke of his offering; then rolling in a circle, they fastened obliquely on Abel's column of smoke. Now he started up with a wild countenance; then again he seemed lost in deep thought. An awful contest arose in his soul; for a voice said to him: "Do not yield to thy passions, but rule over them."

The enraged man pressed his fists to his forehead, eyes and mouth, as though he would press his rage and despair out of the wrinkles of his forehead, his rolling eyes and quivering lips. Then, apparently calmed, he picked up the pointed instrument, with which he tilled the soil, and proceeded to walk to his father's cave.

But he could not avoid casting another look at Abel. He saw, how that the last cloudlets of the smoke were glorified by the fiery sun as by the smile of God. His eye fastened upon this scene, he walked forward, his steps following the direction of his eye.

He stopped at the side of Abel, and after a brief silence, he said: "Tell me, Abel, why does God look graciously upon thy sacrifice, and why does He despise mine?"

"I am in His favor!" said Abel, with a bright countenance.

Then Cain pressed his lips together, and only the word "Why?" hissed forth from them. But Abel replied: "Why art thou wroth? and why is thy countenance fallen? If thou doest well, shalt thou not be accepted? and if thou doest evil, sin resteth at thy door."

Had Cain perhaps expected a kinder reply from his brother, who appeared to be exalted above him? And did the given reply pain him the more severely, because he had received the same reproof a short time before? At any rate, Cain trembled as if a contest was waging within him; then he began to scoff at Abel, until his rage violently burst asunder all fetters-sin had really entered the door of his heart and was ruling over him.

"Ah! is that thy language? thou darling of the Lord! thou lamb-hearted shepherd! Is it because I am rough from hard labor in the field of thorns, which God has cursed on account of father Adam's sin,-that I am unacceptable? Go thou also and dig in the field until thy arms are bruised and thy back sore, and then tell me whether thou canst be friendly and pleasant!—There! (striking him) feel such pains in thy arms, back and head and then be friendly and pleasant, and exalt thyself above me!"

A scream of anguish-a grappling-wrestling-and Abel was

lying on the ground, Cain on the top, panting and furious. *

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The victor arose. The vanquished remained lying-motionless, noiseless, breathless.

L

He walked down the hill, his heart full of defiance ;-but he

slackened his pace. He became filled with fear and anxiety, he knew himself not why.

Now he stood still; the form of his father appeared before his inward eye, for he had always severely rebuked the quarrels of his

sons.

He looked around. Abel was still lying motionless on the same spot.

A dog of Abel's herd ran up to his master, howling dolefully and licking him.

The peaks of the mountains turned blood-red in the rays of the setting sun. Gloomy clouds gathered thickly on the horizon, and a storm rushed violently through the roaring forest. Abel's sheep pressed close together, bleating piteously. Abel did not move.

Cain saw that a rain-storm was impending. He began to be troubled about Abel and about himself, in case the former should not return home to his parents with his sheep before the night and the rain-storm. He went back to the spot where Abel was still lying.

As he was approaching, the dog sprang upon him as if mad, and bit him. Cain defended himself-and killed him.

He started at the beast, as it was writhing in its blood; its limbs moved convulsively, it raised its breast for the last time with a doleful groan, stretched out its limbs and then projected the tongue -it had expired.

Cain shuddered.

He looked on Abel. Tremblingly he fled. Behind him was rolling the thunder of the impending storm.

-Cain, where is thy brother Abel?

-Father, shall I be the guardian of my brother? I suppose he is in the cave with his sheep.

-My son Cain, why dost thou tremble thus, when the lightning illumines the cave?

Oh, mother Eve, the Lord is awful in the lightning of His rage, and in the thunder of His threatening.

-The thunders of God are rolling and His lightnings and rains are lashing the earth. The Lord is casting the lightnings out of his hand, and with the storm of His mouth He is blowing down the cedars. Whom is His wrath seeking, that He may strike him? -O, father Adam! the wind is blowing, whence does He come? He strikes to the ground, whoever stands in His way

A flash of lightning, accompanied by a crash of thunder, interrupted the conversation of the three persons in the cave.

The lightning had struck into a mighty cedar, casting it to the ground and setting fire to it. The three inmates of the cave fell on their faces and worshiped God; Adam and Eve thanking Him for the gift of fire-Cain trembling and struck with terror.

About dusk Adam went out to look after Abel. The thunder was still rolling and the rain was dropping from the forest branches. He found him not in the cave, where the sheep were kept, neither were the sheep in the cave. Then he walked out of the forest and

looked towards the hill.

On the hill Cain was standing. He had the appearance of a statue, his outlines distinctly marked in the glaring light of the setting sun, reflected on the passing clouds. Adam ascended the hill. There was lying Abel, his garments soaked by the rain, his face distorted, his mouth and eyes open! As Adam approached, Cain started back with sudden fear and fell to the ground. But Adam cried:

"Son Abel! my child! Why art thou lying here? Did the Lord cast thee down by His thunder and punish thee with His rain? Son Abel! My child! Arise!"

And he shook him harder and harder, and cried into his ears: "Son Abel! My child! my child!"

And as he looked around he saw the dog also lying on the ground -with surprise he ran over to him; he touched him; the dog was cold! the dog was dead! "Cold! Dead!"

He hastily returned to Abel, he felt his hand-Abel was also cold! Might it perhaps be possible, that man can also die like the animal? He felt him again; he put his ear to Abel's mouth; all was quiet! no breath, no pulse! Abel was cold, cold as the dead animal!

"Lord, can we die, Lord? die like a slaughtered beast? Lord! Lord! is Abel dead? His muscles are stiff, his cheeks pale as snow, his body cold as the body of a reptile! His breath does not move! His pulse does not beat! His eyes give no light!"

"When thou didst drive us out of Thy Paradise, Thou saidst to me, that the earth should be cursed, bearing thorns and thistles; that I should eat the herbs of the field in the sweat of my brow. Lord, Lord! when we were pulling nettles and bushes, and the root of the juniper tree was our food; when we were satisfying our gnawing desire, our severe hunger; then we did not think that we could also die if we would not eat! For when Thou saidst, we should again return to the dust, of which we are made, we did not understand it! But now I know that Thou hast delivered us over into the grasp of death; now I know that I have become a brother to the wolves, which we slay, and a fellow of the serpents which we tread under our foot! Now I know, that we may not only strike one another so as to cause pain; but we can strike one another so as to put an end to our lives! Now thou hast made us to tremble for fear that we may die at any hour; that we may pass away, as one turneth his hand and winketh with his eyes! When

we are digging in the earth, the pointed pole can put the soul out of our bodies; and when we are watching our flocks, a lion may overtake us and devour us, as he devours a lamb. We flee from the falling tree, because it may strike us to the ground; and from the rushing stream, because it may bury us in its floods. We flee from the fire, which Thou hast given us, because it may burn us to ashes; and from Thy lightnings, because they may destroy us. For, alas! death has come amongst us, and we know that he is ever about us. One breath may extinguish the flame of our lives, like the wind does the burning torch. When we fall there may be no rising, and when we sleep there may be no awaking. Who knows, then, where the sting of death may threaten? Who can tell all his ways? He comes with the pain, which we drive from us, and with the sweetness, which we drink. Death will lead us to the dance, and invite us to the cool fountain, in order to overtake us; we may choke when laughing; we may die even for joy. Oh, that we might only be extinguished, as the burning torch by the fleeting breath of the wind. But woe unto our children! They will call upon death as their helper, and they will be the servants of death. But who was it, that called on death and showed him the way to us men? Lord, who killed Abel? If Thou hast done it by Thy lightnings, I must suffer it, for Thou art the Lord. Was it a beast, tell me where I may find it? Or, could it be possible, a brother kill his brother-at Thy altar, Lord!-Lord-in a quarrel for Thy favor? Cain! why is thy pole so bloody? Why so wild thy countenance? Cain! Cain! what hast thou done!"

Cain fled, as if lashed by invisible spirits, into the desolate, dismal steppes. The father of men fell senseless to the ground, and his wife lay at his side, pulling her hair, trembling and sighing without tears.

But on the horizon a rainbow was forming; butterflies fluttered over their heads; from the trees was echoing the warbling of merry birds, and the flowers breathed more strongly their odors. The wonderful, renewing after-effect of the storm touched the senses of the broken-hearted parents of the human race; they looked about, they listened, they breathed freer; hand in hand they sat there and wept. But Adam said:

"Shall we not love each other infinitely, since we are become infinitely miserable? Ah, why grieve and vex one another, since death is so near us? Why envy one another, since we are all in the same pit? Why in pride think ourselves above others, since we are all on a level? Why take revenge, since destruction awaits us all? Shall we not forgive each other our offences, since we all have equally sinned and incurred the penalty of death ?”

AN ARABIAN QUEEN.

BY THE EDITOR.

About forty miles from Beirut, near the ancient city of Sidon, in Syria, is a conical hill, crowned with the remains of a castlelike residence. The hill resembles a pyramid, and is five hundred feet high. The ruins on the top were once the dwelling-place of Lady Hester Stanhope.

She was a grand-daughter of the great Earl of Chatham, and was born in 1776. Her father, the Earl of Stanhope, was a violent red republican. Her mother having died when she was quite young, her uncle, William Pitt, the younger, adopted and brought her up. Pitt had a mortal hatred of red republicanism, and taught the child better views. This led her father to disown her. Her genius made her a favorite in her uncle's family. Pitt died a poor man, but was the means of securing an annual pension of $6,000 from the British Government, for his niece. Her wealth, beauty, and intelligence, brought her many suitors. Only one of these, Sir John Moore, she learned to love, but never married.

She early imbibed a restless, roving disposition, and an aversion to the surroundings of civilized life. After traveling much in Europe, she started on an extensive journey in the East. She took with her a great company of attendants, and a large amount of property. Overtaken by a storm, the vessel bearing her, was wrecked, on a fragment of which, she floated to a desert island. There she remained twenty-four hours without food or help of any kind, musing over the loss of her jewels and property, fallen to the bottom of the sea. At length she was found by some fishermen, who brought her to the island of Rhodes.

In her poverty she returned to England, and brought her remaining fortune to the East. For a while, she took up her abode on the coast of Syria. Here, by a course of dieting and exercise, her weak body became strong as that of an Amazon. She studied the Arab language, which she learned to speak fluently, and made herself familiar with the manners and usages of the country. Her love of adventure led her into the most unfrequented parts of the desert of Arabia, and Mesopotamia. She organized a large caravan, and loaded her camels with rich presents for the Arabs, which she distributed with lavish hand along the course of her journey. Traveling on such a grand scale, she attracted and charmed