shipped the Lord in the beauty of holiness, and to which nothing unclean might approach, roused within him a feeling that added energy and dignity to his reply. You have shown me much kindness, sir, and proved, both by words and deeds, that you believe me guiltless of what I am charged with. My friend is equally innocent; and he too is a son of Abraham, an heir, though, alas! as yet excluded from his inheritance, of all that God gave unto our fathers, in this good land, and this holy city. As our fathers were, we too are just now in bondage to the Egyptian; and but for your English feeling, excited on my behalf, we should both fare as ill as they did. On whatever plea you interposed for me, that plea

equally applicable to him: I will thankfully share any favour shown to Da Costa; but beyond the welcome refreshment of your bath, your change of raiment, or the liberty of thus interceding for him, I can accept nothing.'

'Well, sit down, for I am still too much the Englishman to loll here while my guest stands.'

Alick immediately seated himself.

'And now take a glass of wine with me.'

'Pardon me, I cannot-and I will not,' he added, with determined resolution, as the other filled a glass, and pushed it towards him.

'Take my word for it, Mr. ; I have not the pleasure of knowing your name—what am I to call you?'

'My name is Nathan Alexander Cohen.'

'Well, Mr. Cohen, take my word for it, you will need some bodily nerve to carry you through what may happen to-morrow, and which you don't seem disposed to avert.'

'Whatever strength is needed, that I shall obtain,'

said Alick.

"Whence is it to come?'

'From the Father of Mercies, the God of Israel, in

answer to prayer, which will be heard and granted for the sake of His dear Son.'

'Have you been baptized?' 'No?'

'That's a pity; for, standing as you do between two religions, you may chance to fall, and get no help from either.'

This was said jeeringly, in evident ill-humour, and Alick made no reply, but lifted his heart in prayer.

After some moments of gloomy silence, the officer said, 'To be short and plain with you, Mr. Cohen; I obtained the present indulgence under a wrong impression: I thought you a fine, undaunted young fellow, who would prefer a career of honourable enterprise to the bastinado and the bowstring, and on that supposition I got leave to parley with you. If you continue in this mood, I can do no more; we must to-morrow resume our former position-you a captured Arab robber; I an officer of the Pasha's army, wholly unconnected with your affairs!'

'But you know me to be an English subject, no Arab and no robber. You will surely aid me to appeal to the British consul, or communicate with my friends.'

'I am prohibited from so doing. It was on this condition that I obtained for you a respite from the fate then impending. I incurred personal hazard to serve you so far: beyond it I cannot go, but at a far greater risk.

In that case, I can say no more: I had better return to my prison.'

'Yet consider well, or conviction may arrive too Iate. The Aga holds your life in his hand-his word

is fate.'

The hand that holds my life,' answered Alick, ' is no mortal hand. If it be His will to deliver me to death, none can save; if it be His will to preserve, none can harm me. He has given me the precious assurance, that none coming to Him shall be cast out; and since I have been drawn, and have come to Him, I know that to me the promise is sure-He will raise me up at the last day.'

'You preach so well, you had better live to follow your vocation in the Pasha's service. If not a soldier, you would make a capital muezzim.'

'I know,' said Alick, 'the tyranny, cruelty, and caprice of those whom you serve, too well, to desire you should incur the possibility of offending them to save me; or I might work successfully on your English feelings to attempt it. I refrain from so doing, in the earnest hope that you may be spared to repent. Not all the luxuries that surround you here, not all the distinctions, in wealth, title, fame, that you may acquire, can avail you in the eternity that is to come. O, consider this, ere it be too late: look around you, and recal what HE suffered to redeem the soul you are destroying, who passed even here a life of sorrow, and died a death of shame. Repent, and return; for the Lord has no pleasure in the death of him that dieth, but rather that he turn from his evil way and live.'

The renegade had risen fiercely, when the youth began; he now stood, frowning and muttering, but

he made no reply. A signal brought back the attendant, who touched Alick's shoulder and motioned to him to retire. He proceeded a few steps, then turned and said, May I go to my friend?'

No!' was the answer; and the attendant, startled by the angry tone, hurried him away.

Once more in his place of confinement, Alick breathed freely; he had not done so in the perfumed atmosphere of the sumptuous apartmeut. Before he had been locked in many minutes, a man of very different aspect from any he had seen there entered, set before him some coarse bread and water, and pointing to his Arab dress, which had been brought and deposited on the bed, left him again alone. His miserable meal was eaten with new relish, his dress changed again, and after a little time spent in prostrate prayer, he was at his high window, communing with the past, and realizing the future. Thoughts of home, of the Ryans, and even more painfully of Da Costa, would interpose; but they were as light summer-clouds crossing the sunshine of his spirit. He watched till nightfall, then tranquilly slept till day; and seeing how hopeless was the plan of an appeal to the English consulate from the sentence of those who were determined to regard and to treat him as a plundering Arab, in the dress of whom he was evidently required again to appear, he resolved to leave his cause in higher hands, and to stay his mind where it would be kept in perfect peace.

Towards noon, his former guard appeared, and with exulting looks and scoffing words, hurried him along. The scene that he so yearned to behold once more was not now the place of judgment; instead of the roof of the house, he found himself in a wide, but low JANUARY, 1842.

C

and uncomfortable apartment, only the farther end being temporally fitted up for the Aga's deputy, who was surrounded by officers, and near him the executioners, with their instruments of varied cruelty and death. No interpreter was there; and Alick felt that his doom was sealed; while the rude hurry prevailing in every quarter, showed that scarcely even the semblance of a trial awaited him. His old accuser approached the deputy, and speaking so fast and low that not a sentence could be distinctly heard at the distance where Alick stood, he told his tale, fre-quently pointing to the prisoner, while others occasionally assented, corroborating his lying evidence. The deputy gave a divided attention, half engaged in a whispering conversation with another official, who stood behind him; and soon uttered some words, which included Alick's sentence, for the soldiers eagerly closed around, and one of the executioners, seizing his arms, commenced binding them. A sort of avenue was formed to the door by which he had entered, and along this he was roughly dragged; but a sudden stir took place near the deputy's seat, the tapestry that hung round the recess was somewhat violently drawn aside, and the Aga himself appeared. Alick's progress was arrested by command; the deputy was speedily displaced, and his chief installed: and when the prisoner was led back, he saw not only the Governor of Jerusalem, but the English consul, two naval officers in the uniform of the Lion Isle, and behind them, with eyes almost starting out of their sockets, the honest, weather-beaten face of his first friend, the Gunner.