sacred volume solemnly in her hands; to implore that she would, at all risks, fly from this unholy place; and, pointing in the direction of the mountains of the Said, to name, with her last breath, the venerable man, to whom, under Heaven, she looked for the protection and salvation of her child. "The first violence of feeling to which Alethe gave way was succeeded by a fixed and tearless grief, which rendered her insensible, for some time, to the dangers of her situation. Her sole comfort consisted in visiting that monumental chapel where the beautiful remains of Theora lay. There, night after night, in contemplation of those placid features, and in prayers for the peace of the departed spirit, did she pass her lonely and-however sad they were-happiest hours. Though the mystic emblems that decorated that chapel were but illsuited to the slumber of a Christian, there was one among them, the Cross, which, by a remarkable coincidence, is an enblem alike common to the Gentile and the Christian-beirg, to the former, a shadowy type of that immortality, of which, to the latter, it is a substantial and assuring pledge. the priests, she could see, were endeavouring to ensnare in their toils, by every art and lure with which their dark science had gifted them. To her mind, the image of a philosopher, such as Alc phron had been represented to her, came associated with ideas of age and reverence; and, more than once, the possibility of his being made instrumental to her deliverance flashed a hope across her heart in which she could not refrain from indulging. Often had she been told by Theora of the many Gentile sages, who had laid their wisdom down humbly at the foot of the Cross; and though this Initiate, she feared, could hardly be among the number, yet the rumours which she had gathered from the servants of the Temple, of his undisguised contempt for the errors of Heathenism, led her to hope she might find tolerance, if not sympathy, in her appeal to him. "Nor was it solely with a view to her own chance of deliverance that she thus connected him in her thoughts with the plan which she meditated. The look of proud and selfNightly, upon this cross, which she had often seen her gratulating malice, with which the High Priest had mentionlost mother kiss, did she breathe forth a solemn and heartfelt ed this 'Infidel,' as he styled him, when giving her instrucvow, never to abandon the faith which that departed spirit tions in the scene she was to act before the philosopher in the had bequeathed to her. To such enthusiasm, indeed, did her || valley, too plainly informed her of the dark destiny that hung heart at such moments rise, that, but for the last injunctions over him. She knew how many were the hapless candidates from those pallid lips, she would, at once, have avowed her for Initiation who had been doomed to a durance worse than perilous secret, and boldly pronounced the words, ‘I am a that of the grave, for but a word, a whisper, breathed against Christian,' among those benighted shrines! the sacred absurdities that they witnessed; and it was evident to her that the venerable Greek (for such her fancy represented Alciphron) was no less interested in escaping from the snares and perils of this region than herself. "But the will of her, to whom she owed more than life, was to be obeyed. To escape from this haunt of superstition must now, she felt, be her first object; and in planning the means of effecting it, her mind, day and night, was employed. It was with a loathing not to be concealed, that she now found herself compelled to resume her idolatrous services at the shrine. To some of the offices of Theora she succeeded, us is the custom, by inheritance; and in the performance of these tasks-sanctified as they were in her eyes by the pure spirit she had seen engaged in them-there was a sort of melancholy pleasure in which her sorrow found relief. But the part she was again forced to take, in the scenic shows of the Mysteries, brought with it a sense of degradation and wrong which she could no longer endure. "Already had she formed, in her own mind, a plan of escape, in which her acquaintance with all the windings of this mystic realm gave her confidence, when the solemn reception of Alciphron, as an Initiate, tock place. "From the first moment of the landing of that philosopher ut Alexandria, he had become an object of suspicion and watchfulness to the inquisitorial Orcus, whom philosophy, in || ay shape, naturally alarmed, but to whom the sect over which he young Athenian presided was particularly obnoxious. The accomplishments of Alciphron, his popularity, wherever e went, and the bold freedom with which he indulged his wit at the expense of religion, were all faithfully reported to he High Priest by his spies, and awakened in his mind no indly feelings towards the stranger. In dealing with an inidel, such a personage as Orcus could know no other alternaive but that of either converting or destroying him; and hough his spite, as a man, would have been more gratified ry the latter proceeding, his pride, as a priest, led him to refer the triumph of the former. "The first descent of the Epicurean into the pyramid besame speedily known, and the alarm was immediately given the priests belov As soon as they had discovered that be young philosopher of Athens was the intruder, and that e not only still continued to linger round the pyramid, but || was observed to look often and wistfully towards the portal, was concluded that his curiosity would impel him to try a second descent; and Oreus, blessing the good chance which had thus brought the wild bird into his net, resolved not to ffer an opportunity so precious to be wasted. "Instantly, the whole of that wonderful machinery, by which the phantasms and illusions of Initiation are produced, were put in active preparation throughout that subterranean realm;|| and the increased stir and vigilance awakened among its inmates, by this more than ordinary display of the resources of priesteraft, rendered the accomplishment of Alethe's purpose, || such a moment, peculiarly difficult Wholly ignorant of the important share which it had been her own fortune to t ke in attracting the young philosopher down to this region, she but heard of him vaguely, as the Chief of a great Greeisa re, who had been led, by either curiosity or accident, to e bimself to the first trials of Initiation; and whon "Her own resolution was, at all events, fixed. That visionary scene, in which she had appeared before Alciphronlittle knowing how ardent were the heart and imagination over which her beauty, at that moment, exercised its influence -was, she solemnly resolved, the very last unholy service, that superstition or imposture should ever command of her. "On the following night the Aspirant was to watch in the Great Temple of Isis. Such an opportunity of approaching and addressing him might never come again. Should he. from compassion for her situation, or a sense of the danger of his own, consent to lend his aid to her flight, most gladly would she accept it-well assured that no danger or treachery she might risk could be half so odious and fearful as those which she left behind. Should he, on the contrary, reject the proposal, her determination was equally fixed-to trust to that God whose eye watches over the innocent, and go forth alone. "To reach the island in Lake Moris was her first great object; and there occurred fortunately, at this time, a mode of effecting her purpose, by which both the difficulty and dan gers of the attempt would be much diminished. The day of the annual visitation of the High Priest to th Place of Weeping-as that island in the centre of the Lake is called-was now fast approaching; and Alethe knew that he self-moving car, by which the High Priest and one of the Hierophante are conveyed down to the chambers under the Lake, stood then waiting in readiness. By availing herself of this expe dient, she would gain the double advantage both of facilitating her own flight, and retarding the speed of her pursuers "Having paid a last visit to the tomb of her beloved mother, and wept there, long and passionately, till her heart almos failed in the struggle-having paused, too, to give a kiss te her favourite ibia, which, although too much a Christian to worship, she was still child enough to love-she went early, with a trembling step, to the Sanctuary, and there hid her self in one of the recesses of the Shrine Her intention was to steal out from thence while it was yet dark, and before the illumination of the great Statue behind the Veils had begun. But her fears delayed her till it was almost too late;—already was the image lighted up, and still she remained trembli in her hiding-place. "In a few minutes more the might Veils would have beɩ i withdrawn, and the glories of that scene of enchantment laid open-when, at length, summoning all her courage, and taking advantage of a momentary absence of those epmloyed in preparing this splendid mockery, she stole from under the Veii, and found her way, through the gloom, to the Epicurian. There was then no time for explanation;-she had but to trust to the simple words, Follow, and be silent;' and the implicit readiness with which she found them obeyed filled her with no less surprise than the philosopher himself had felt in hearing them. In a second or two they were on their way through the subterranean windings, leaving the ministers of Isis to waste their splendours on vacancy, through a long series of miracles and visions which they now exhibited-unconscious that he, whom they were taking such pains to dazzle, was already, nder the guidance of the young Christian, far removed beyond the reach of their deceiving spells." CHAPTER XIV. SUCH was the singular story, of which this innocent girl now gave me, in her own touching language, the outline. The sun was just rising as she finished her narrative. Fearful of encountering the expression of those feelings with which, she could not but observe, I was affected by her recital, scarcely had she concluded the last sentence, when, rising abruptly from her seat, she hurried into the pavilion, leaving me with the words fast crowding for utterance to my lips. Oppressed by the various emotions thus sent back upon my heart, I lay down on the deck in a state of agitation, that defied even the most distant approaches of sleep. While every word she had uttered, every feeling she expressed, but ministered new fuel to that flame which consumed me, and to describe which, passion is far too weak a word, there was also much of her recital that disheartened and alarmed me. To find a Christian thus under the garb of a Memphian Priestess, was a discovery that, had my heart been less deeply interested, would but have more powerfully stimulated my imagination and pride. But, when I recollected the austerity of the faith she had embraced-the tender and sacred tie, associated with it in her memory, and the devotion of woman's heart to objects thus consecrated-her very perfections but widened the distance between us, and all that most kindled my passion at the same time chilled my hopes. Were we to be left to each other, as on this silent river, in such undisturbed communion of thoughts and feelings, I knew too well, I thought, both her sex's nature and my own, to feel a doubt that love would ultimately triumph. But the severity of the guardianship to which I must resign her-that of some monk of the desert, some stern Solitary-the influence such a monitor would gain over her mind-and the horror with which, ere long, he might teach her to regard the reprobate infidel upon whom she now smiled-in all this prospect I saw nothing but despair. After a few short hours, my dream of happiness, would be at an end, and such a dark chasm must then open between our fates, as would dissever them, wide as earth from heaven, asunder. It was true, she was now wholly in my power. I feared no witnesses but those of earth, and the solitude of the desert was at hand. But though I acknowledged not a heaven, I worshipped her who was, to me, its type and substitute. If, at any moment, a single thought of wrong or deceit, towards one so sacred arose in my mind, one look from her innocent eyes averted the sacrilege. Even passion itself felt a holy fear in her presence-like the flame trembling in the breeze of the sanctuary-and Love, pure Love, stood in the place of Religion. As long as I knew not her story, I could indulge, at least, in dreams of the future. But, now-what expectation, what prospect remained? My single chance of happiness lay in the hope, however delusive, of being able to divert her thoughts from the fatal project she meditated; of weaning her, by persuasion and argument, from that austere faith, which I had before hated and now feared; aad of attaching her, perhaps, alone and unlinked as she was in the world, to my own fortunes for ever! In the agitation of these thoughts, I had started from my testing place, and continued to pace up and down, under a burning sun, till, exhausted both by thought and feeling, I sunk down, amid that blaze of light, into a sleep, which to my fevered brain seemed a sleep of fire. On awaking, I found the veil of Alethe laid carefully over my brow; while she, herself, sat near me, under the shadow of the sail, looking anxiously upon that leaf, which her mother had given her, and employed apparently in comparing its outlines with the course of the river, as well as with the forms of the rocky hills by which we were passing. She looked pale and troubled, and rose eagerly to meet me, as if she had long and impatiently waited for my waking. Her heart, it was plain, had been disturbed from its security, and was beginning to take alarm at its own feelings. But, though raguely conscious of the peril to which she was exposed, her reliance, as is usua' in such cases, increased with her danger, and upon me, far more than on herself, did she seem to depend for saving her. To reach, as soon as possible, her asylum in the desert, was now the urgent objecz of her entreaties and wishes; and the self-reproach which she expressed at having, for a single moment, suffered he thoughts to be diverted from this sacred purpose, not only revealed the truth, that she had forgotten it, but betrayed even a glimmering consciousness of the cause. Her sleep, she said, had been broken by ill-omened dreams. Every moment the shade of her mother had stood before her, rebuking, with mournful looks, her delay, and pointing, as she had done in death, to the eastern hills. Bursting into tears at this accusing recollection, she hastily placed the leaf, which she had been examining, in my hands, and implored that I would ascertain, without a moment's delay, what portion of our voyage was still unperformed, and in what space of time we might hope to accomplish it. I had, still less than herself, taken note of either place or distance; and could we have been left to glide on in this dream of happiness, should never have thought of pausing to ask where it would end. But such confidence was far to0 sacred to be deceived; and, reluctant as I naturally felt, to enter on an inquiry, which might soon dissipate even my list hope, her wish was sufficient to supersede even the selfishness of love, and on the instant I proceeded to obey her will. There stands on the eastern bank of the Nile, to the north of Antinoe, a high and steep rock, impending over the flood, which has borne, for ages, from a prodigy connected with it, the name of the Mountain of the Birds. Yearly, it is said, at a certain season and hour, large flocks of birds assemble in the ravine, of which this rocky mountain forms one of the sides, and are there observed to go through the mysterious ceremony of inserting each its beak into a particular cleft of the rock, till the cleft closes upon one of their number, when all the rest of the birds take wing, and leave the selected vic tim to die. Through the ravine, rendered famous by this charm-for such the multitude consider it-there ran, in ancient times, a canal from the Nile, to some great and forgotten city, now buried in the desert. To a short distance from the river this canal still exists, but, after having passed through the defile, its scanty waters disappear, and are wholly lost under the sands. It was in the neighbourhood of this place, as I could collect from the delineations on the leaf-where a flight of birds represented the name of the mountain-that the abode of the Solitary, to whom Alethe was about to consign herself, was situated. Little as I knew of the geography of Egypt, it at once struck me, that we had long since left this mountain be hind; and, on inquiring of our boatmen, I found my con jecture confirmed. We had, indeed, passed it, on the pre ceding night; and, as the wind had been, ever since, blowing strongly from the north, and the sun was already sinking towards the horizon, we must be now, at least, a day's sail to the southward of the spot. This discovery, I confess, filled my heart with a feeling of joy which I found it difficult to conceal. It seemed as if fortune was conspiring with love in my behalf, and, by this delaying the moment of our separation, afforded me a chance at least of happiness. Her look and manner, too, when informed of our mistake, rather encouraged than chilled this secret hope. In the first moment of astonishment her eyes opened upon me with a suddenness of splendour, under which I felt my own wink as though lightning had crossed them.But she again, as suddenly, let their lids fall, and, after a quiver of her lip, which showed the conflict of feeling then going on within, crossed her arms upon her bosom, and looked down silently upon the deck; her whole countenance sinking into an expression sad, but resigned, as if she now felt that fate was on the side of wrong, and saw Lovo already stealing between her soul and heaven. I was not slow, of course, in availing myself of what I fan cied to be the irresolution of her mind. But, still, fearful of exciting alarm by any appeal to feelings of regard or tender ness, I but addressed myself to her imagination, and to that love of novelty and wonders, which is ever ready to be awakened within the youthful breast. We were now approaching that region of miracles, Thebes. "In a day or two," said I, "we shall see, towering above the waters, the colossal Ave. nue of Sphinxes, and the bright Obelisks of the Sun. Wa shall visit the plain of Memnon, and behold these mighty star tues that fling their shadows at sunrise over the Libyan malls We shall hear the image of the Son of the Morning responding to the first touch of light. From thence, in a few hours, a breeze like this will transport us to those sunny islands near the cataracts; there, to wander, among the sacred palmgroves of Phile, or sit, at noontide hour, in those cool alcoves, which the waterfall of Syene shadows under its arch. Oh, who is there that, with scenes of such loveliness within reach, would turn coldly away to the bleak desert, and leave this fair world, with all its enchantments, shining unseen and unenjoyed? At least "—I added, taking tenderly her hand in mine"let a few more days be stolen from the dreary fate to which thou hast devoted thyself, and then She had heard but the last few words-the rest had been lost upon her. Startled by the tone of tenderness into which, in despite of all my resolves, I had suffered my voice to soften, she looked for an instant with passionate earnestness into my face; then, dropping upon her knees with her clasped|| hands upraised, exclaimed-" Tempt me not, in the name of God I implore thee, tempt me not to swerve from my sacred duty. Oh! take me instantly to that desert mountain, and I will bless thee for ever." This appeal, I felt, could not be resisted-even though my heart were to break for it. Having silently intimated my assent to her prayer, by a slight pressure of her hand as I raised her from the deck, I proceeded immediately, as we were still in full career, for the south, to give orders that our sail should be instantly lowered, and not a moment lost in retracing our course. solitude draws hearts together, and how much more we seemed It was only, however, upon subjects unconnected with our situation or fate, that she yielded to such interchange of thought, or that her voice ventured to answer mine. The moment I alluded to the destiny that awaited us, all her cheer fulness fled, and she became saddened and silent. When I described to her the beauty of my own native land—its founts of inspiration and fields of glory-her eyes sparkled with sympathy, and sometimes even softened into fondness. But when I ventured to whisper, that, in that glorious country, a life full of love and liberty awaited her; when I proceeded u contrast the adoration and bliss she might command, with the gloomy austerities of the life to which she was hastening-it was like the coming of a sudden cloud over a summer sky. Her head sunk, as she listened;-I waited in vain for an an swer; and when, half playfully réproaching her for this si lence, I stooped to take her hand, I could feel the warm tears fast falling over it. But even this-feeble as was the hope it held out-was still a glimpse of happiness. Though it foreboded that I should lose her, it also whispered that I was loved. Like that lake, in the land of Roses, whose waters are half-sweet, half-bitter, I felt my fate to be a compound of bliss and pain--but its very pain well worth all ordinary bliss. In giving these directions, however, it, for the first time, occurred to me, that, as I had hired this yacht in the neighbourhood of Memphis, where it was probable the flight of the young Priestess would be most vigilantly tracked, we should run the risk of betraying to the boatmen the place of her retreat;—and there was now a most favourable opportunity for taking precautions against this danger. Desiring therefore, that we should be landed at a small village on the shore, under pretence of paying a visit to some shrine in the neigh-every moment shortened our happy dream, and the current bourhood, I there dismissed our barge, and was relieved from fear of further observation, by seeing it again set sail, and resume its course fleetly up the current. From the boats of all descriptions that lay idle beside the bank, I now selected one, in every respect, suited to my purpose-being, in its shape and accommodations, a miniature of our former vessel, but, at the same time, so light and small as to be manageable by myself alone, and requiring, with the advantage of the current, little more than a hand to steer it. This boat I succeeded, without much difficulty, in purchasing, and, after a short delay, we were again afloat down the cur rent ;-the sun just then sinking, in conscious glory, over his own golden shrines, in the Libyan waste. The evening was calmer and more lovely than any that had yet smiled upon our voyage; and, as we left the shore, a strain of sweet melody came soothingly over our ears. It was the voice of a young Nubian girl, whom we saw kneeling befare an acacia, upon the bank, and singing, while her companions stood around, the wild song of invocation, which, in her country, they address to that enchanted tree : "Oh! Abyssinian tree, Of thy bough's salute To the stranger who seeks thy bower. "Oh! Abyssinian tree, How the traveller blesses thee, Thus bow thy head to me!" In the burden of this song the companions of the young Nubian joined; and we heard the words, "Oh! Abyssinian tree," dying away on the breeze, long after the whole group had been lost to our eyes. Whether, in the new arrangement which I had made for aar voyage, any motive, besides those which I professed, had ashare, I can scarcely, even myself-so bewildered were then my feelings-determine. But no sooner had the current borne us away from. all human dwellings, and we were alone an the waters, with not a soul near, than I felt how closely such And thus did the hours of that night pass along; while seemed to flow with a swifter pace than any that ever yet hurried to the sea. Not a feature of the whole scene but lives, at this moment, freshly in my memory;-the broken starlight on the water;-the rippling sound of the boat, as, without oar or sail, it went, like a thing of enchantment, down the stream;-the scented fire, burning beside us upon the deck, and then that face, on which its light fell, revealing, at every moment, some new charm-some blush or look, more beautiful than the last! Often, while I sat gazing, forgetful of all else, in this world, our boat, left wholly to itself, would drive from its course, and bearing us away to the bank, get entangled in the water flowers, or be caught in some eddy, ere I perceived where we were.. Once, too, when the rustling of my oar among the flowers, had startled away from the bank some wild antelopes, that had stolen, at that still hour, to drink of the Nile, what an emblem did I think it of the young heart then beside me -tasting, for the first time, of hope and love, and so soon alas, to be scared from their sweetness for ever! CHAPTER XV. THE night was now far advanced-the bend of our course towards the left, and the closing in of the eastern hills upon the river, gave warning of our approach to the hermit's dwell ing. Every minute now appeared like the last of existence; and I felt a sinking of despair at my heart, which would have been intolerable, had not a resolution that suddenly, and as if by inspiration, occurred to me, presented a glimpse of hope, which, in some degree, calmed my feelings. Much as I had, all my life, despised hypocrisy-the very sect I had embraced being chiefly recommended to me by the war they continued to wage upon the cant of all others→→→ it was, nevertheless, in hypocrisy that I now scrupled not to take refuge from that calamity which to me was far worse than either shame or death, my separation from Alethe. my despair I adopted the humiliating plan-deeply humiliating as I felt it to be, even amid the joy with which I welcomed it-of offering myself to this hermit, as a convert to his faith, and thus becoming the fellow-disciple of Alethe under his care in From the moment I resolved upon this plan my spirit felt lightened. Though having fully before my eyes the mean labyrinth of impostare into which it would lead me, I thought of nothing but the dance of our continuing still together. In this hope, all pride, all philosophy, was forgotten, and every thing seemed tolerable, but the prospect of losing her. Thus resolved, it was with somewhat less reluctant feelings that I now undertook, at the anxious desire of my companion, to ascertain the site of that well-known mountain in the neighbourhood of which the anchoret's dwelling lay. We had already passed one or wo stupendous rocks, which stood, detached, like fortresses, over the river's brink, and which in some degree corresponded with the description on the leaf. So little was there of life now stirring along the shores, that I had begun almost to despair of any assistance from inquiry, when, on looking to the western bank, I saw a boatman among the sedges, towing his small boat, with some difficulty, up the current. Hailing him as we passed, I asked," Where stands the Mountain of the Birds ?"—and he had hardly time, as he pointed above us, to answer "There," when we perceived that we were just then entering into the shadow, which this mighty rock flings across the whole of the flood. In a few moments we had reached the mouth of the ravine, of which the Mountain of the Birds forms one of the sides, and through which the scanty canal from the Nile flows. At the sight of this awful chasm, with one of whose dreary recesses (if we had rightly interpreted the leaf) the dwelling of the Solitary was to be found, our voices sunk at once into a low whisper, while Alethe turned round to me with a look of awe and eagerness, as if doubtful whether I had not already disappeared from her side. A quick movement, however, of her hand towards the ravine, told too plainly that her purpose was still unchanged. Immediately checking, therefore, with my oars, the career of my boat, I succeeded, after no small exertion, in turning it out of the current of the river, and steering into this bleak and stagnant canal. Our transition from life and bloom to the very depth of desolation was immediate. While the water on one side of the ravine lay buried in shadow, the white skeleton-like crags of the other stood aloft in the pale glare of moonlight. The sluggish stream through which we moved yielded sullenly to the oar, and the shriek of a few water birds, which we had roused from their fastnesses, was succeeded by a silence, so dead and awful, that our lips seemed afraid to disturb it by a breath; and half-whispered exclamations, "How dreary!" -"How dismal !"-were almost the only words exchanged between us. We had proceeded for some time through this gloomy defile, when, at a short distance before us, among the rocks upon which the moonlight fell, we could perceive, on a ledge clevated but a little above the canal, a small hut or cave, which, from a tree or two planted around it, had some appearance of being the abode of a human being. "This, then," thought I, "is the home to which she is destined !"—A chill of despair came again over my heart, and the oars, as I sat gazing, lay motionless in my hands. 66 " I found Alethe, too, whose eyes had caught the same object, drawing closer to my side than she had yet ventured. Laying her hand agitatedly upon mine, We must here," said she, "part for ever." I turned to her as she spoke; there was a tenderness, a despondency, in her countenance, that at once saddened and inflamed my soul. "Part!" I exclaimed, passionately-"No!-the same God shall receive us both. Thy faith, Alethe, shall, from this hour, be mine; and I will live and die in this desert with thee!" Her surprise, her delight, at these words was like a momentary delirium. The wild, anxious smile, with which she looked into my face, as if to ascertain whether she had indeed heard my words aright, bespoke a happiness too much for reason to bear. At length, the fulness of her heart found relief in tears; and, murmuring forth an incoherent blessing on my name, she let her head fall languidly and powerlessly on my arm. The light from our boat-fire shone upon her face. I saw her eyes, which she had closed for a moment, again opening upon me with the same tenderness, and-merciful || Providence, how I remember that moment!-was on the point of bending down my lips towards hers, when, suddenly, in the air above us, as if coming direct from heaven, there burst forth a strain of choral music, that with its solemn sweetness filled the whole valley. Breaking away from my caress at these supernatural sounds, the maiden threw herself trembling upon her knees, and, not dering to look up, exclaimed wildly, "My mother, oh my mother!" It was the Christian's morning hymn that we heard ;-the same as I learned afterwards, that, on their high terrace at Memphis, she had been taught by her mother to sing to the rising sun. Scarcely less startled than my companion, I looked up, ard saw, at the very summit of the rock above us, a ligit, appear ing to come from a small opening or window, through which those sounds likewise, that had appeared to me ɛ› superna tural, issued. There could be no doubt, that we had now found-if not the dwelling of the anchorite-at least, the haunt of some of the Christian brotherhood of these rocks, by whose assistance we could not fail to find the place of his retreat. The agitation, into which Alethe had been thrown by the first burst of that psalmody, soon yielded to the softening re collections which it brought back; and a calm came over her brow, such as it had never before worn, since we met. She seemed to feel as if she had now reached her destined haven and hailed, as the voice of heaven itself, those solemn sounds by which she was welcomed to it. In her tranquillity, however, I was very far from yet sym pathising. Full of impatience to learn all that awaited her as well as myself, I pushed our boat close to the base of the rock, so as to bring it directly under that lighted window on the summit, to explore my way up to which was now my im mediate object. Having hastily received my instructions from Alethe, and made her repeat again the name of the Christian whom we sought, I sprang upon the bank, and was not long in discovering a sort of path, or stairway, cut rudely out of the rock, and leading, as I found, by easy windings up the steep. After ascending for some time, I arrived at a level space or ledge, which the hand of labour had succeeded in convert ing into a garden, and which was planted, here and there, with fig-trees and palms. Around it, too, I could perceive, through the glimmering light, a number of small caves or grottos, into some of which, human beings might find an en trance; while others appeared of no larger dimensions thar those tombs of the Sacred Birds which are seen ranged around Lake Moris. I was still, I found, but half-way up the ascent, nor was there visible any further means of continuing my course, as the mountain from hence rose, almost perpendicularly, like a wall. At length, however, on exploring more closely, I dis covered behind the shade of a fig-tree, a large ladder of wood, resting firmly against the rock, and affording an easy and safe ascent up the steep. Having ascertained thus far, I again descended to the boa for Alethe, whom I found trembling already at her short soli tude; and having led her up the stairway to this quiet gas den, left her lodged there securely, amid its holy science while I pursued my way upward to the light upon the rock. At the top of the long ladder I found myself on another ledge or platform, somewhat smaller than the first, but planə ed, in the same manner, with trees, and, as I could perceive by the mingled light of morning and the moon, embellished with flowers. I was now near the summit;-there remained but another short ascent, and, as a ladder against the rock, supplied, as before, the means of scaling it, I was in a fow minutes at the opening from which the light issued. I had ascended gently, as well from a feeling of awe at the whole scene, as from an unwillingness to disturb rudely the rites on which I intruded. My approach, therefore, being unheard, an opportunity was, for some moments, afforded me of observing the group within, before my appearance as the window was discovered. In the middle of the apartment, which seemed to have been once a Pagan oratory, there was collected an assembly of about seven or eight persons, some male, some female, kneeling in silence round a small altar;-while, among them, as if presiding over their solemn ceremony, stood an aged man, who, at the moment of my arrival, was presenting to one of the female worshippers an alabaster cup, which she applied, with profound reverence, to her lips. The venerable countenance of the minister, as he pronounced a short prayer over her head, wore an expression of profound feeling that showed how wholly he was absorbed in that rite; and when she had drank of the cup-which I saw had engraven on its side the image of a head, with a glory round it-the holy man bent down and kissed her forehead. After this parting salutation, the whole group rose silently from their knees; and it was then, for the first time, that by a cry of terror from one of the women, the appearance of a stranger at the window was discovered. The whole assem bly seemed startled and alarmed, except him, that superior person, who, advancing from the altar, with an unmoved look, raised the latch of the door adjoining to the window,|| ead admitted me. There was, in this old man's features, a mixture of elevation and sweetness, of simplicity and energy, which commanded at once attachment and homage; and half-hoping, half-fearing, to find in him the destined guardian of Alethe, I Looked anxiously in his face, as I entered, and pronounced the name "Melanius!"-"Melanius is my name, young stranger," he answered; "and whether in friendship or in enmity thou comest, Melanius blesses thee." Thus saying, he made a sign with his right hand above my head, while, with involuntary respect, I bowed beneath the benediction. rich city, Antinoe, though he mingled not with its multitude, his name and his fame were ever among them, and to all who sought after instruction or consolation, the cell of the hernit was always open. Notwithstanding the rigid abstinence of his own habits, he was yet careful to provide for the comforts of others. Con tent with a rude pallet of straw, himself, he had always fo the stranger a less homely resting place. Fror his grotto, the wayfaring and the indigent never went unrefreshed; and, with the aid of some of his brethren, he had for.red gardens along the ledges of the mountain, which gave an air of life and cheerfulness to his rocky dwelling, and supplied him with the chief necessaries of such a climate--ruit and shade. Though the acquaintance he had formed with the mother of Alethe, during the short period of her attendance at the school of Origen, was soon interrupted, and never afterwards renewed, the interest which he had then taken in her fat was far too lively to be forgotten. He had seen the zeal with which her young heart wele med instruction; and the thought that so promising a candi late for heaven should have relapsed into idolatry, came often, with disquieting apprehen sion, over his mind. "Let this volume," I replied, "answer for the peacefulness of my mission"-at the same time placing in his hands the copy of the Scriptures which had been his own gift to the mother of Alethe, and which her child now brought as the credential of her claims on his protection. At the sight of this sacred pledge, which he instantly recognized, the solemnity which had at first marked his reception of me, softened Into tenderness. Thoughts of other times appeared to pass through his mind; and as, with a sigh of recollection, he took the book from my hands, some words on the outer leaf caught is eye. They were few-but contained, most probably, the ast wishes of the dying Theora; for, as he read them over eagerly, I saw tears in his aged eyes. "The trust," he said,er of Memphis, that "not only had her own heart taken root with a faltering voice, "is precious and sacred, and God will in the faith, but that a new bud had flowered with the same enable, I hope, his servant to guard it faithfully.” divine hope; and that, ere long, he might see them both transplanted to the desert." During this short dialogue, the other persons of the assembly had departed-being, as I afterwards learned, brethren from the neighbouring bank of the Nile, who came thus secretly before daybreak, to join in worshipping their God. Fearful lest their descent down the rock might alarm Alethe, I hurried briefly over the few words of explanation that remained, and leaving the venerable Christian to follow at his eisure, hastened anxiously down to rejoin the young maiden. CHAPTER XVI. MELANIUS was one of the first of those zealous Christians of Egypt, who, following the recent example of the hermit, Paul, bade farewell to all the comforts of social existence, and betook themselvce to a life of contemplation in the desert. Less selfish, however, in his piety, than most of these ascetics, Melanius forgot not the world in leaving it. He knew Chat man was not born to live wholly for himself; that his relation to human kind was that of the link to the chain, and that even his solitude should be turned to the advantage of others. In flying, therefore, from the din and disturbance of Efe, he sought not to place himself beyond the reach of its ympathies, but selected a retreat where he could combine all the advantages of solitude with those opportunities of being useful to his fellow-men, which a neighbourhood to their populous haunts would afford. That taste for the gloom of subterranean recesses, which the|| race of Misraim inherit from their Ethiopian ancestors, had, by hollowing out all Egypt into caverns and crypts, supplied || these Christian anchorets with an ample choice of retreats. Accordingly, some found a shelter in the grottos of Elethya ;— athers, among the royal tombs of the Thebaid. In the middle of the Seven Valleys, where the sun rarely shines, a few have fixed their dim and melancholy retreat; while others have Bought the neighbourhood of the red Lakes of Nitria, and there, like those Pagan solitaries of old, who fixed their dwelling anong the palm-trees near the Dead Sea, pass their whole lives in musing amidst the sterility of nature, and seem to find, in her desolation, peace. . It was on one of those mountains of the Said, to the east of the river, that Melanius, as we have seen, chose his place of seclusion having all the life and fertility of the Nile on one side, and the lone, dismal barrenness of the desert on the ather. Half way down this mountain, where it impends over the ravine, he found a series of caves or grottos dug out of the rock, which had, in other times, ministered to some purpose of mystery, but whose use had long been forgotten, and their recesses abandoned. To this place, after the banishment of his great master, Origen, Melanius, with a few faithful followers, retired, and there, by the example of his innocent life, as well as by his fervid eloquence, succeeded in winning crowds of converts to is faith. *Placed, as he was, in ths neighbourhod of the || It was, therefore, with true pleasure, that, but a year or two before Theora's death, he lid learned by a private com munication from her, transmitted through a Christian embalm The coming, therefore, of Alethe was far less a surprise to him, than her coming thus alone was a shock and a sorrow; and the silence of their first meeting showed how painfully both remembered that the tie which had brought them toge ther was no longer of this world—that the hand, which should have been then joined with theirs, was now mouldering in the tomb. I now saw, that even religion like his was not proof against the sadness of mortality. For, as the old man put aside the ringlets from her forehead, and contemplated in that clear countenance the reflection of what her mother had been, there mingled a mournfulness with his piety, as he said, "Heaven rest her soul!' which showed how little even the certainty of a heaven for those we love can reconcile us to the pain of having lost them on earth. The full light of day had now risen upon the desert, and our host, reminded, by the faint looks of Alethe, of the many anxious hours we had passed without sleep, proposed that we should seek, in the chambers of the rock, such rest as a her mit's dwelling could offer. Pointing to one of the largest of these openings, as he addressed me-" Thou wilt find," be said, "in that grotto a bed of fresh doum leaves, and may the consciousness of having protected the crphan sweeten thy sleep!" I felt how dearly this praise had been earned, and already almost repented of having deserved it. There was a sadness in the countenance of Alethe, as I took leave of her, to which the forebodings of my own heart but too faithfully responded; nor could I help fearing, as her hand parted lingeringly from mine, that I had, by this sacrifice, placed her beyond my reach for ever. Having lighted for me a lamp, which, in these recesses, even at noon, is necessary, the holy man led me to the en trance of the grotto. And here, I blush to say, my caree of hypocrisy began. With the sole view of obtaining another glance at Alethe, I turned humbly to solicit the benediction of the Christian, and, having conveyed to her, while bending reverently down, as much of the deep feelings of my soul as looks could express, I then, with a desponding spirit, hurried into the cavern. A short passage led me to the chamber within--the walls of which I found covered, like those of the grottos of Lycopolis, with paintings, which, though executed long ages ago, looked as fresh as if their colours were but laid on yesterday They were, all of them, representations of rural and domes tic scenes; and, in the greater number, the melancholy ima gination of the artist had called in, as usual, the presence of Death, to throw his shadow over the picture. My attention was particularly drawn to one series of sub jects, throughout the whole of which the same group-com sisting of a youth, a maiden, and two aged persons, who ap peared to be the father and mother of the girl-were repre sented in all the details of their daily life. The looks and attitudes of the young people denoted that they were loverst |