to be two years (though some say three, see 2 Maccabees vii. 27). Not too early for the first and simplest lessons of truth to find a way into that marvellous young mind! Then came the parting with Jochebed and Amram, with Miriam and Aaron, with formal adoption by Pharaoh's daughter, so that this Hebrew child became as a son in the palaces of Egypt. His name (orig. Heb. Mosheh) would certainly be Egyptian, though the word has in Hebrew a similar meaning (drawing' or one who draws forth'). Josephus says it comes from the Egyptian words Mo, water, and USES, saved: hence the Greek form Mouses-" saved from water." 6 son, Aaron (now three years old, sce ch. vii. 7), both probably | The child grew to the age of weaning; stated by the Rabbis born before the edict. Something in the exceeding beauty of the babe-goodly-'fair before God,' Acts vii. 20, 'proper' (i.e. comely), the same word, Heb. xi. 23, seems to have given them a presentiment of an extraordinary destiny, and in this anticipation they did not 'fear the king's commandment,' i.e. (1) did not so reverence it as to submit, nor (2) dread its fulfilment in their case they believed that in some way the babe would escape. It was, however, impossible long to conceal a growing child from inquisitive neighbours (the Egyptians were interspersed with Israelites in Goshen) or from Pharaoh's spies; and the mother's ingenuity, directed by God Himself, devised a plan. An ark, or small boat, was fashioned of the papyrus plant-a common material for vessels, Isa. xviii. 2-made watertight by an outer coating of bitumen, or pitch, the inside being plastered with Nile-mud or slime. This was placed among the flags, or rushes-a generic name for the papyrus and similar aquatic plants on the brink probably of one of the canals leading to the great river. The place is unknown. It may be that Jochebed knew of the spot as a bathing-place of the princess, and laid her plan accordingly; or she may have acted simply in the confidence that somehow God would provide a means of rescue. Any place was safer than her own home! But she could not bear to stay to see the end! The child's sister-no doubt Miriam, as we read of no other (sce Micah vi. 4)-was left on the watch. Information about the bulrush, or papyrus plant and its uses, is easily accessible in Biblical Dictionaries, Teachers' Aids and other Handbooks. The papyrus is now extinct in Lower Egypt. It was believed that crocodiles would not touch a vessel made of this plant. And it may be added that these monsters did not enter the Nile-canals. The idea therefore of the babe being in danger from their ravenous jaws may be rejected, as may also the picture drawn by Josephus of the ark floating down the Nile while Miriam walked along the bank. The ark lay among the rushes, and Miriam stood afar off, to watch. II. THE CHILD RESCUED, ADOPTED AND NAMED.-Read vers. 5-10. The scene is one of primitive simplicity. We need not suppose with some that this visit of the daughter of Pharaoh was for some great religious or anniversary celebra tion. No doubt it was her ordinary practice thus to wash, or bathe, attended by her maidens, somewhere near her father's northern capital at Tanis, or Zoan. But Divine Providence guided her to the place at that time, and so touched the springs of curiosity and pity within her soul, as to lead to the great result. The babe wept-literally, behold, a boy weeping!' This moved the compassion of the princess-she at once comprehended the situation-remembered her father's decree: the circumstances of the case were quite sufficient for her conclusion;-this is one of the Hebrews' children. How much depended on the decision of the next moment! Might not a daughter of Pharaoh have been expected coldly to say, 'Fling the child in the river'? She might perhaps, but for those infant tears! Never,' says Matthew Henry, 'did poor child cry so seasonably, so happily as this!' Of this daughter of Pharaoh we know nothing from history. Josephus gives her name as Thermuthis. Miriam (whose age is not mentioned here or elsewhere, but who was probably about ten or twelve) seizes the favourable moment. Hastening to the princess, she proposes, with ingenious simplicity, what was precisely the right thing. An Egyptian nurse might have ill-treated the babe, or given it up to Pharaoh; or perhaps might have been prevented by religious scruples from taking charge of it at all. So the child's mother, after the suspense of those terribly anxious hours, regained her own child, the king's daughter providing his maintenance! Well may we imagine the loving care and pride with which the babe would now be tended; the only thought of sorrow being, that the parting time must come by-and-by! III. THE PART OF MOSES TAKEN.-Read vers. 11-15. The education and early history of Moses are entirely passed over by the historian. His object was not to write his own biography, but to describe God's dealings with His people. Lat tradition would have been full of details.' His training would be suitable to the condition to which he had been raised. See Acts vii. 22. He was learned in all the wisdom of the Egyptians.' The priests would be his instructors; and all the treasures of science, art, and philosophy, as then understood. would be made accessible to him. His place of training would be the great ‘university' at On, afterwards Heliopolis, whither the highborn youth of the land, and those who were intended for the priesthood, repaired to acquire their lore. In his position, also, he would learn the arts of rule, being familiar with every form of power as exercised among men. Egypt was, at this time, at the very summit of the world's civilisation. How all this fitted Moses for his future career will be evident. Josephus tells stories of his wisdom, also of his prowess in war, as shown in an expedition against the Ethiopians, and of the jealousies kindled against him by the magicians.* These records may or may not be true; it is best for us to keep to the plain Scripture narrative. From this it appears that he had never become in heart an Egyptian. Probably he would learn in early life to what race he belonged: he was true to his people, and we cannot doubt also to their God, only waiting the fit time to take his stand. When Moses was grown'come to years,' Heb. xi. 24, 'full forty years old,' Acts vii. 23, he went out unto his brethren-making a deliberate choice, refusing to be called the son of Pharaoh's daughter'— and looked on their burdens, with declared sympathy. Already he had formed the purpose of effecting their deliver ance. Even in Pharaoh's courts there had come to him the secret summons, bidding him to attempt great things for God. That voice he must heed, though as yet he understood its promptings but imperfectly. To abandon the studies that had made him intellectually so great, to surrender position, rank, wealth, and power, to break asunder the affectionate ties that bound him to the friends of his childhood and youth, required strong and stern determination; and this at first displayed itself in an unguarded and blameworthy form. He would etrike a blow for liberation at once: and this he did by slaying an Egyptian, no doubt a taskmaster who was inflicting the bastinado upon a Hebrew. Moses hid this man's body in the sand, not because he was ashamed of the deed, but because it would be sure to bring down vengeance on him as soon as it was known. That Moses was naturally of a hasty temper appears from ch. xi. 8, and xxxii. 19, also from Num. xvi. 15, and Psa. cvi. 33. The meekness by which he was distinguished (Num. xii. 3) was the result of discipline, experience and Divine grace. *There is a story preserved by Josephus that when the infant Moses was first brought by the princess to Pharaoh the King playfully put his crown upon the head of the babe, who, however, flung it on the ground and trampled on it with his foot. This, as an evil omen, aroused the terror of the king's chief that the boy should be put to death. Thermuthis, however, minister, standing by at the time; and he earnestly counselled snatched her darling away, and Pharaoh passed the matter lightly over. ZULEIKA BEE, THE MUSSALMAN CHILD. There was no witness of the act: the Hebrew himself, so unexpectedly rescued from his oppressor, must have told the tale. By the morrow it was known, as Moses learned from a quarrel in which he was vainly striving to reconcile the com. batants. He had moved too fast; he had struck a blow, but in the wrong spirit, and had calculated too soon on gaining a response from an oppressed race. See Acts vii. 25. They understood not.' Slavery had degraded their minds and crushed their hopes; they had no heart to resist their tyrants. This scorn of those whom he had sacrificed everything to save must have been more bitter to Moses than even the scorn of Egypt. Had he then given up all, to win nothing in return-thrown away his prospects in life for a delusion? And, as the king now heard of the deed, there was nothing for it but to flee. Moses could not escape in the direction of Palestine, the southern part of which was now vassal to Egypt: so he sought the wild region of Midian-in the peninsula of Sinai, probably on the eastern side; and there he sat down by the well (not a well simply)-some famous fountain of the district. Here for the present we must leave him. What must have been his thoughts? On the one side, how much had he surrendered? What had been his reasons, his plans, his hopes? And what, so far, had he gained by it?-Only, it seemed, the lot of an exile, in a strange land-powerless, unknown! Might not the thought have arisen, Why could I not have remained as I was? What opportunities of usefulness might I have had! I could have served my brethren to some purpose, like Joseph, if I had been content to retain my power! But I must needs go out and fight for them, and now I have lost both them and Egypt! was the supreme trial of faith. But faith and patience conquered, as we shall see. QUESTIONS. It Pages for the Young. ZULEIKA BEE, THE MUSSALMAN CHILD. V. 431 Now the children's food was provided for, it was easier to get better sustenance for Fatma, and before long she began to get a little stronger and was able to move about the house sometimes instead of lying all day on her mat. Still she was weak and feeble and unable to do much, but sometimes she was able to take charge of her baby Hassan while Mariam went to the bazaar to buy food. The market in India is called a bazaar. Hassan was delighted to have his mother once more to take care of him, and things began to look much brighter in the poor little home. She And how was Zuleika getting on in her new life? Let us look at her as she stands in her class listening to her kind friend's teaching. The weary look has gone from her face. Good, regular food has made the little cheeks round and chubby once more; and a bright face it is which she raises, as she looks shyly at the lady. She rarely answered questions in her class unless called upon to do so by name, but she listened to every word uttered, and drank deeply of the water of life. knew now where the Lord Jesus was, that He was present there to help her, although she could not see Him, that He had promised never to leave her or forsake her. And she clung to His promise. She did not know much about Him yet, but what she did know made her very happy, and she formed in her mind the resolution never to do anything to grieve so kind a friend. "I am afraid," said Zuleika to herself, "I shall often grieve Him, but I will try-oh, so very hard-not to do anything He would not like to have done!" and we may be sure that the Lord Jesus would not fail to help His little follower. For some months the children attended school regularly. Every day the cart rumbled up to the door of their poor home and took them away, to bring them back in the evening. But now ten days' holiday was to be given at the request of the parents of the children, for it was the month of Moharrem, or the sacred month of the Mohammedans, and the parents wanted to have their children at home with them that together they might weep and lament for the death of Hossein, the grandson of their false prophet Mohammed, who many hundred years ago was killed in a sad manner. Ever since Hossein's death great lamentation and weeping has been made for him during the month of Moharrem, and for ten days an account of his sad and cruel end is read to the people, while on the tenth and last day of the Moharrem an ornamented bier is carried in procession through the town and then cast into the river or sea, as the case may be. The children were delighted to have a holiday, and looked forward with pleasure to the excitement of the coming fast, or Fatiha as it is called. During the Moharrem it is customary for the rich Mohammedans to invite their poorer relations and dependents to their houses, and as Ibrahim was a poor man, he and his family were invited by a rich uncle of his to spend the ten days of the Moharrem at his house. Great excitement prevailed amongst the children at the prospect of this visit, and they were very happy when they were all safely placed in the carriage which was to take them to the rich man's house, and happier still when they arrived at their destination, and were warmly welcomed by their relations. "Come in, come in," exclaimed their uncle; " are you all well? Peace be with you all," and he raised the curtain from in front of the door, and brought them into his house. Here they were met by their aunt and cousins, all of whom were pleased to see them, and made them feel at home at once. Hassan received a very warm welcome, and was handed from one to another to be embraced and made much of, though no one praised his appearance. To say a child looks strong or handsome is considered to be very unlucky amongst the Mohammedans. So Ibrahim and his family prepared themselves to spend a pleasant time with their relations. "What a lovely house!" whispered Jamla to Anser; "look at the white pillars." 66 Yes, and do you see the lamps?" exclaimed Anser; "do you think all those beautiful lamps will be lighted at once?" "I hope so," responded Jamla; "won't it be beautiful?" and she smiled with pleasure at the thought. The house was all prepared for keeping the fast of the Moharrem. At all times it was a pleasant and pretty house, but now it was decorated more than usual. In the middle of the house was a large square courtyard, surrounded by large rooms. The rooms were raised two steps higher than the courtyard, and were separated from it by white pillars. At one side of the courtyard the rooms were specially prepared for the fast, the floors of these rooms being covered with crimson carpets, the ceiling hung with innumerable lamps of all colours and sizes, and at one end of the rooms was placed a crimson banner, on which were represented two hands in gold; this is an imitation of Hossein's banner, and is looked upon with great reverence. No food was given to Ibrahim and his family on their arrival, for was it not the fast? Unlike the Roman Catholics, who only abstain from eating meat during fasts, the Mohammedans touch no food from sunrise to sunset, nor will they touch one drop of water. Think what a severe fast that must be, dear readers, under a burning sky, where the terrible hot winds blow, not to drink one drop of water during the whole day, and not for one day only, but day after day, for a whole month at a time-only during the night food and water may be taken. As soon as the first glimmer of light is seen in the sky, all water must be put away, not to be touched again till dark once more brings the hour of relief. Sick people and very little children are not expected to keep the fast, but children of eight years old, as a rule, fast with their elders. Mariam, Fatma and the children were only allowed to stay in the courtyard and principal rooms for a little while each day; there were smaller rooms for them with the rest of the women of the house, the principal rooms being reserved for the men and boys. Every day the story of Hossein's death was repeated, first to the men and then to the women. Let us go once with the women as they come into the courtyard and listen to this sad story. The men have gone out and left the house to their wives and children. All are merry and lively, talking and playing, but the clock strikes five. One tall, old woman of imposing aspect, stands up; all are silent and rise to their feet while she in a loud but mournful voice exclaims, "Iatiha!" which means literally" to begin," but is used only in respect to prayer for the dead. She then slowly walks into the room which contains the banner, seats herself on the ground, and opens her book to read. All the women and children seat themselves near her on the floor and listen with rapt attention to the oft-told tale. As she proceeds, low weeping is heard, but before the tale has proceeded far the weeping increases; she herself is overcome with grief as if she were telling the story of her truest and dearest friend, and all her listeners beat their breasts in the abandonment of their grief. From the middle of the tale to the conclusion, the sound of the weeping is heard mingled with the monotonous beating with which they keep time to the voice of the reader. She reads how that Hossein, the grandson of the false prophet Mohammed, was invited by 140,000 Moslems to make himself caliph, or emperor, and they promised that if he would come to Cufa they would help him. Contrary to the advice of his friends he resolved to trust himself to these unknown people. And taking with him his wife and children, as in peace time, he set out to meet them on the banks of the river Euphrates. As he advanced he was alarmed by the deserted appearance of the country, and his alarm was just. The governor of Cufa had contrived to extinguish the first sparks of insurrection, and when he reached Kerbela he found himself surrounded by five thousand horsemen, so that he could neither enter the city nor re-cross the river. He might have escaped to a fort in the desert and a faithful and dutiful tribe of Arabs would have armed in his defence. But he scorned to endanger their lives. The governor would enter into no treaty with him, but ordered him to surrender on pain of death. "Think you," he replied, " to terrify me with death?" During the night he prepared himself to meet with resignation whatever might be his fate, and checked the lamentations of his sister, and begged his friends to secure their safety by flight, but they refused to leave him. At day-break he mounted his horse, his sword in one hand, the "Koran" (sacred book of the Moslems) in the other. His devoted band of followers drew up behind him, no more than thirty-two horse and fifty foot. Behind them and at their sides they had dug trenches and filled them with lighted faggots. The enemy advanced upon them reluctantly, and one chief deserted to him with his followers, determined to die with him. The despair of this little band was invincible in close fight, but their opponents galled them from a distance with a cloud of arrows, and both horses and men successively perished. A truce was granted for the hour of prayer, and the battle at last ceased with the life of the last of the followers of Hossein. Alone and wounded he was seated at the opening of his tent, and was pierced in the mouth with a dart as he was refreshing himself with a cup of water. His son and nephew, two beauti ful boys, were killed in his arms; he then raised towards heaven his bloody hands, and uttered a prayer. His sister, in a transport of despair, issued from the tent and besought the general not to suffer her brother to be murdered before her eyes. A tear trickled down his beard, and the boldest of his soldiers fell back, as Hossein threw himself in the midst of them. But the remorseless governor reproached them with cowardice, and Hossein was slain with thirty-three strokes of swords and lances. They trampled on his body, cut off his head and carried it to Cufa, where the savage governor struck the mouth with his cane. His sister was taken to Damascus in chains. This is the sad story that is so wept over every year, as the month of Moharrem comes round, and it was for the death of Hossein that the women lamented and beat themselves so bitterly. As the old woman finished reading she rose from her seat, and slowly left the apartment, followed by her fellow-mourners. Soon all traces of weeping left their faces, and they were as merry as ever. THE SUNDAY AT HOME O DAY MOST CALM, MOST BRIGHT!... THE WEEK WERE DARK BUT FOR THY LIGHT.-Herbert. THE GWEN BEVERLY. CHAPTER II. HE Frizelle family had not as yet seen me out of my long brown holland pinafore, with sleeves to the wrists and tied up to my throat; I felt quite daunted at my appearance as I skulked about the room in which they lounged, displaying their flaunting robes of gay colours and gorgeous materials. One day Mrs. Frizelle remarked to her daughters that I looked "very much like a pillow in a case." This was merely a witticism on her part, and not intended to offend me. I had often felt their entire neglect of me, but this "notice" was such a blow to No. 1419.-JULY 9, 1881. my dignity, that I made my escape to Joan and told her what had happened. Joan reddened with scorn and anger as she declared, "I had gowns as good as theirs, any day, and they should see that I had." Her spirit was up, and I followed her with a beating, swelling heart to the wardrobe where my clothes were kept. She looked thoughtfully at the slide on which lay my frocks, then she drew out one on which I greatly prided myself, thinking it was very rich-looking and also womanly. It had been made under Joan's directions from an old dress of my poor mother's: it was a stiff stuff, the ground was of a dingy indigo, shaded off in stripes to a pale blue, and over these stripes flourished, or I should say, sprawled, most wonderful yellow botanical forms, leaves, tendrils and flowers, graduating in tint to deep orange. I felt unqualified delight as this came forth, and when it was put on me I exulted in the effect I should produce. Yet an indefinite feeling of misgiving was PRICE ONE PENNY. mingled with my satisfaction. I could not be certain that it would impress the critics in the parlour favourably; I had never seen them wear anything like it; but then Joan assured me that "such like wasn't to be had for love or money in these days." She had not one dishonouring doubt. "There, child," she said, when she had tied my sash and twisted me round for a final look, now you can go and show 'em as you're not a pillow in a case." My self-consciousness made me very awkward when I returned to the parlour; I stood for half a minute with my hand on the door before I could muster courage to open it; when I did, and made my entrance, one lady was sitting at an embroidery frame, and the others were engaged with newspapers and novels, so that I walked to my seat unnoticed. Presently, Mrs. Frizelle, who was at the frame, cried out, What an odious smell of musk! Girls, have you any about you?" Whereupon they all looked up, answering "No;" and, as if by sympathy, turned their eyes on me. A chorus of laughter followed, in which Mrs. Frizelle joined; but, calling me to her, she just lightly touched my shoulder, holding me from her at arm's length, exclaiming, "It's this little figure of fun! Poor child, you have surely been poking in Noah's ark for this most wonderful covering!" I was overwhelmed with confusion, and gladly went off to Joan to beg her to find me another frock, for the ladies couldn't bear musk! "Then here's wishing 'em joy!" cried Joan with grim exultation. "They wasn't content with the wardrobe in their room, so I put the things they didn't want till winter, they said, into yours, as is musked from top to bottom." I had to return to my "pillow-case" again, for Joan did not consider the ladies worthy of another experiment. There was another incident which I must tell; it gave me a name which perfectly described me at that time; the name of " Miss Wretched." One day I was busy sewing a seam in a shirt for my uncle; Joan had placed it for me, and I prided myself on showing such womanly work. I secretly hoped to have an opportunity of announcing careless way, that I was making a shirt for uncle! I can fancy that what was passing in my mind was betrayed by my conscious manner and look and the very upright posture in which I sat. My uncle seldom came into the parlour between breakfast and dinner; probably he thought, as the ladies meant to make a long stay, he was at liberty to leave them to their own resources without being inhospitable or wanting in courtesy. But this morning, to my great delight, he walked in with a book in his hand, apologising for the intrusion; but adding that he had just met with an eastern anecdote, that bore on their last evening's conversation, which he thought would amuse them. They all looked very willing to be amused, and he was just going to begin, when, suddenly, he turned to me, saying, "Gwen, read this for me; my throat is a little rough," adding to the ladies; "She is a very fair reader for her years." Now if I had been blessed with that humility which aims at deserving praise far more than obtaining it, and, consequently, delivers from that craving for it which is dear payment for the highest applause, I should have taken the book and read with ease, just as I always did in the study; but "I myself I" was in the way, and I felt sure, before I began, that I should make a mess of it. "Here, child, here!" said my uncle, thinking I could not find the place, and pointing to it, while I was almost suffocated with heart-beating. Of course I started with the precipitation of one running down a hill, reflection was gone, and I dashed into the anecdote, thinking not of that but of the ladies and what they would say of my reading. It began," That remarkable man, Reschid Pacha," etc. etc. What cruel destiny threw such a name in my way at such a moment? I pronounced it "Retched." My uncle smiled and corrected me; this added to my confusion, and I went on blundering over other Arabian names and titles, and making false stops and other mistakes, till, seeing tears in my eyes, he kindly took the book out of my hand, saying, "You are not used to this sort of thing, my dear; I will read it myself." Here one of the young ladies interposed and begged to be allowed to save his throat. To complete my defeat, she read it off to the perfect satisfaction of everybody. "Poor little Miss Wretched,'" said Miss Frizelle, "she is crying, positively!" and so I was. What they found so amusing in my tears I don't know; but they all laughed and joined in crying "Poor little Wretched!" Even my uncle smiled; he said he feared I was beginning to feel the want of my regular lessons; but I should soon recover lost ground, and a holiday now and then was a good thing. How I loved him for his true pity! I got up, and followed him out of the room to go and tell Joan my troubles. She did her best to comfort me; she could not comprehend their being able to read better than I did; I could say all the words one after another, as they came, as fast as I could talk, and what could they do more? She knew there was a difference between her reading and mine, for she halted over many difficulties that were none to me, but she would not allow that I was inferior to any (but my uncle of course), 'specially to them-"They'll be gone soon, I hope-good job when they are; they spoil the very weather, they do! making everything so uncomfortable that there's no peace in doors nor out." No wonder she was discontented; she could never now get out for a walk, nor have a leisure hour to sew; they kept her and Mary Cross constantly at work for them, "cooking up fads," and waiting on them in every conceivable way. I "I can't think what brought 'em here," she would say, "but I'd bless anything as 'd take em away; warrant they won't never come again. They're for ever a-grumbling-they've had enow o' Yorkshire, and Yorkshire have had enow o' them!" Joan's prophecy of their speedy departure was soothing; how I longed for the day to come. From the time that I got the name of "Miss Wretched," which they afterwards constantly called me, I avoided them as much as I possibly could; nothing could induce me to remain in the room when my uncle was not there. I took my work to the deep window in the best kitchen, and solaced myself with the thought of uncle's approbation when I should take the shirt to him quite finished, all my own achievement. |