3. Skillful workmen to come and cut down Pharaoh's Perseas, and the beautiful Queen stood by and looked on.

4. And there flew a chip of the wood, and went into the mouth of the beautiful lady.

5. And it came to pass, after many days,

6. That she brought forth a son, and they went to carry tidings to the King, "To thee is

7. Born a son." And he was brought forward, and they gave him a nurse, and women to take charge of him; and there

was

8. Joy in all the land. They sat themselves down to keep a festival; they gave him

9. His name; and the King loved him greatly from that hour; and he appointed him

1. Prince of Ethiopia. after, the King made him

Page 19.

After many days had passed here

2. Viceroy of the whole country. After many days had passed hereafter, when he had fulfilled.

3. Many years as Viceroy, then the King died, and Pharaoh flew to heaven.

4. And the other said: "Now let me summon the mighty ones, and the great ones of the royal court; I will make them know the whole history

5. Of all that has happened, with regard to me and the Queen." And his wife was brought to him, and he made himself known unto her before them, and they uttered their

sentence.

6. And they brought to him his elder brother, and he made him Viceroy over all his territory. He reigned thirty years as King of Egypt.

7. When he had lived these thirty, then his brother stood in his place on the day of his burial.

So ends this tale of three thousand years ago. How many reflections it suggests! How many points of contact it presents with the tales and traditions of other times and countries! What a curious light it throws on the manners and customs and opinions of the ancient Egyptians! In particular, how clearly it implies a belief, not only in the doctrine of the transmigration of souls, but also in the separate existence of the soul

from the body! Whether the tale was in the strictest sense original, or whether it was drawn from existing sources, is a matter of little importance: whether the merit of invention or only the merit of embellishment is due to the scribe Annana, the interest is the same. The simplicity, the freshness, the almost biblical style of the narrative, cannot fail to strike the mind, even in a translation. If, as M. Brugsch thinks, the author was the contemporary of Moses, such a circumstance adds another feature of interest to the discovery of the papyrus. The resemblance between some portions of the narrative in Genesis and the style of the Egyptian writer may be accounted for by the fact that Moses was trained by men like Annana and Kagabu in all the wisdom of the Egyptians. This story, this papyrus, may have been in his hands. Writings such as these may have contributed to his education. They help us, at least, to realize more vividly the fact that the great Jewish lawgiver was prepared for his mission, not first in the solitudes of Horeb, but in the court of Pharaoh, and in the schools of Egypt.

THE SEVENTH PLAGUE OF EGYPT.

BY GEORGE CROLY.

"TWAS morn- the rising splendor rolled
On marble towers and roofs of gold;
Hall, court, and gallery, below,
Were crowded with a living flow;
Egyptian, Arab, Nubian, there,
The bearers of the bow and spear,
The hoary priest, the Chaldee sage,

The slave, the gemmed and glittering page;
Helm, turban, and tiara shone

A dazzling ring round Pharaoh's throne.

There came a man the human tide
Shrank backward from his stately stride;
His cheek with storm and time was tanned;

A shepherd's staff was in his hand;

A shudder of instinctive fear

Told the dark king what step was near;

On through the host the stranger came,

On Pharaoh's cheek the blood flushed high,
A fire was in his sullen eye;

Yet on the chief of Israel

No arrow of his thousands fell;

All mute and moveless as the grave

Stood chilled the satrap and the slave.

"Thou'rt come," at length the monarch spoke,
Haughty and high the words outbroke:
"Is Israel weary of its lair,

The forehead peeled, the shoulder bare?
Take back the answer to your band:
Go, reap the wind; go, plow the sand!
Go, vilest of the living vile,
To build the never-ending pile,
Till, darkest of the nameless dead,
The vulture on their flesh is fed!
What better asks the howling slave
Than the base life our bounty gave?"
Shouted in pride the turbaned peers,
Upclashed to heaven the golden spears.
"King! thou and thine are doomed!
The prophet spoke the thunder rolled!
Along the pathway of the sun
Sailed vapory mountains, wild and dun.
"Yet there is time," the prophet said.
He raised his staff the storm was stayed;
"King! be the word of freedom given.
What art thou, man, to war with Heaven?"

- Behold!"

"Speak, king!-the wrath is but begun! Still dumb? - then, Heaven, thy will be done!"

Echoed from earth a hollow roar

Like ocean on the midnight shore!
A sheet of lightning o'er them wheeled,
The solid ground beneath them reeled;
In dust sank roof and battlement;
Like webs the giant walls were rent;
Red, broad, before his startled gaze
The monarch saw his Egypt blaze.

Still swelled the plague the flame grew pale;
Burst from the clouds the charge of hail;

With arrowy keenness, iron weight,
Down poured the ministers of fate;
Till man and cattle, crushed, congealed,
Covered with death the boundless field.
Still swelled the plague - uprose the blast,
The avenger, fit to be the last.
On ocean, river, forest, vale,
Thundered at once the mighty gale.
Before the whirlwind flew the tree,
Beneath the whirlwind roared the sea;
A thousand ships were on the wave-
Where are they? Ask that foaming grave!
Down go the hope, the pride of years,
Down go the myriad mariners;
The riches of earth's richest zone
Gone! like flash of lightning, gone!

And, lo! that first fierce triumph o'er,
Swells ocean on the shrinking shore;
Still onward, onward, dark and wide,
Engulfs the land the furious tide.
Then bowed thy spirit, stubborn king,
Thou serpent, reft of fang and sting!
Humbled before the prophet's knee,
He groaned, "Be injured Israel free!"

To heaven the sage upraised his wand;
Back rolled the deluge from the land;
Back to its caverns sank the gale;
Fled from the noon the vapors pale;
Broad burned again the joyous sun;
The hour of wrath and death was done.