displayed the luxuries of the land, and where the continual hum of traffic strikes upon the ear, are all objects of interest.

It was at this hour-the hour of twilight-that two individuals were seated in a richly decorated room. The fading light was dimly streaming through the open window, and the gentle breeze that fanned the cheek of beauty, brought sweet odors from the rich flowers that grew in the little garden below them. The house was situated in a lonely unfrequented street, where many an old dismantled dwelling frowned down upon the passer-by. It bore the evident marks of age, and so old and forlorn was its external appearance, that it seemed as though it had been the home of other generations; and yet it had been constructed with especial regard to strength, for the massive walls and iron-bound windows showed that it might with a small force be held against an invading foe. The purposes of its present occupants, however, were of a pacific nature.

Notwithstanding the forbidding aspect of the exterior, the apartment to which we have alluded was fitted up with the most lavish magnificence. Wealth had procured from every land a tribute for its adornment, and peculiar taste had been manifested in its arrangement.

"Zaida, my daughter," said the old man, after a protracted silence, "seest thou that star whose struggling ray so faintly beams upon us? It is an emblem of Israel's coming glory. Ay, it will come, though I live not to see it; and methinks if my body be laid with the clods of the valley, my spirit will hover over our beloved Zion ;" and the tremulous voice of the old man grew strong again as he spoke of the glory of Israel.

Haroun Abulafia was the wealthiest Jew in Damascus. He was a nobler being than most of those with whom he associated and with whom his destinies were linked. More than three score years had passed over him, and though time had scattered gray hairs among the once black luxuriant locks, and had silvered his long flowing beard, yet it had not taken from him strength of body or vigor of intellect. In common with his tribe, he was engaged in commercial pursuits, and had hoarded up immense wealth; yet he was not avaricious; he cared but little for the riches which seemed to pour uninvited upon him. His soul was bound up in the interests of fallen, outcast Israel. He pondered over their bitter wrongs, and his stern spirit burned for revenge. He looked eagerly for the day of their return to the land of promise, and the establishment of their temporal power under a victorious Messiah. Visions of future glory floated before him, and the new songs of triumph were sounding in his ears. He was a student, and had meditated deeply over the pages of inspiration; but he read them with a proud spirit, and longed for the day, when the Almighty should again lead the conquering armies of Israel to victory, and when the outcast, the despised, should arise from her mourning, and triumphant, overcome the enemies that once trampled her under foot. And then there came bitter thoughts of revenge. His was a noble spirit; but the cold chill of unkindness had withered many of his better feelings, and the taunts of the unbeliever had often goaded his soul to madness.

There was one who was dearer, far dearer to him than all things of earth; and she sat beside him- his daughter-the image of her departed mother, whom he had cherished with all the passionate love of

his soul. Ay, she was a bright blythesome being, with the glorious beauty that the dreamer sometimes sees in the fairy vision that passes by him, never to return. Her long raven tresses hung like a veil about her sylph-like form, and her large lustrous eyes that flashed with the fire of genius! O, there was her beauty! And as he gazed upon her with paternal pride, he thought she was too fair and beautiful for earth. On Zaida he had lavished all that riches could give. He had taught her from the book of holy writ, and from the exhaustless fountain of its pages her spirit had drank in streams of knowledge. Its noble truths and sublime poetry were familiar to her mind. And he had opened to her the rich stores of classic learning, and had led her through all the paths of ancient literature. She had a mind that thirsted for knowledge; and he had laid before her the sweet strains of the poets of her own tongue. She had a soul formed for the beauties of poetry, and by the "still waters" of its streams she roamed in happiness, as free and joyous as the bird that sang in her bowers. And he had told her of Israel's former glory, and of her coming future greatness, and she felt no shame in the name of Jewess.

But three days had elapsed since Zaida, at the request of her father, had left the gorgeous dwelling which had been her home from the time of her birth. He had not told her why he wished her to occupy an apartment in this old ruined house, but simply had said there were weighty reasons for his course. And as she entered within its walls, the gloominess seemed to her an evil omen, the influence of which she could not throw off, even when her father led her into her own room, furnished with such magnificence, where every thing that the kindness of a parent could suggest, found a place. She pondered too on the strange conduct of her father; why did he bring her here to this unfrequented part of the city, without even telling her why he wished her so abruptly to leave the home of her childhood? It was so unlike his usual conduct. Once he had been frank with her, and communicated to her his plans aud consulted her, and now, why so reserved, yet so kind, that her slightest wishes were gratified? Did danger press upon them, or did he know that she had seen and loved one from among those who were the especial objects of his hatred? Had he removed her here that she might meet him no more? Perchance he knew all, and had taken this gentle means of telling her that he had witnessed and disapproved of her conduct. Sometimes she thought she would confess all and ask his forgiveness; and yet she knew he would never consent to her intercourse with him whom she loved better than life. And as she sat by her father, there was grief in her young heart; she feared she had offended him; and there was one whose face she saw not here, and her thoughts went back to the time when she had last listened to his voice; she thought of his sorrow when he came to seek her and knew not whither she had gone. Zaida looked up affectionately, yet with a sorrowful heart, in the face of her father, and as she met his deep-searching eye, she shrank from the eager gaze that seemed to read the secrets of her soul. Yet he spoke most kindly: "Zaida, my love, sing me one of your sweet simple songs, that I may listen to your voice once more."

"Once more, dear father," and her gentle mournful tone thrilled to his heart; "why once more? Shall not Zaida often strike the harp to chase the cloud from thy brow."

"I know not why I feel sadness pressing so heavily on my spirit, my daughter; but now for thy song :-let it be of Israel." And as the old man listened to the rich notes of her melodious voice, sorrow passed away, and his eye beamed again with happiness.

Darkness now the land forsaking,
Israel shall with verdure bloom,
For the light of morn that's breaking,
Shall chase away the midnight gloom:
O'er the hills afar are beaming

Glorious rays of morning light,
In the valleys now are gleaming
Emblems of her future might.

Wake no more the harp of sadness,
The night of sorrow long is o'er;
Sound again the notes of gladness,
Israel's blest for evermore:-
Hark! the strain so gently stealing
Jordan's wooded banks along;
Hark! the chorus loudly pealing
From the joyous Hebrew throng.

No proud disdain, or bitter railing,
Shall follow now the Jewish name;
No hostile foe, their peace assailing,
Shall put the Jew to open shame!
God's own people are prevailing
In Jehovah's awful might;
Israel's foes-their standards trailing-
Now at length are put to flight.

Joy!-The sun again is flinging
O'er the land his genial rays;
E'en the birds, their glad notes singing,
Lift their voice in humble praise.
Sweep the strings to Israel's glory-
Tune the harp to sweetest strains-
Let each voice proclaim the story,
"Israel's GOD in triumph reigns!"

As the last notes died away, the old man rose and paced the room; but controlling the strong emotions that struggled within him, he calmly sat down again by his daughter.

"God bless thee, Zaida, my own love! may the sorrows of earth never blight the joyous visions of thy young heart! And now, I must away. You know that my pursuits often demand a prolonged absence; and I am now obliged to leave you for a few days. These are unsettled times, and I brought you here for protection: this place is less liable to danger than our own home, and therefore has this room been fitted for you. You will find it a pleasant place for your abode, till I return, my daughter; and I have left those about you, who will attend to your slightest wants."

"Father," said the Jewess, "why these hints of danger? if any await us, shall not I show the fearless spirit of my father? Let me, then, go with you, and share your troubles."

"I incur no danger where I am going, Zaida, and this is the safest place I could procure for you; so farewell, dearest, till I see thee again," and the old man pressed her lips with a kiss of fond affection, as he hurried from her apartment.

CHAPTER II.

In a small room of the principal khan, in the straight street of Damascus, sat Henry Vernon. He was leaning his head upon the small table before him, on which lay scattered a few choice works, and a musical instrument. Wrapt up in his own thoughts, and abstracted from all that was passing around him, he heard not the knock at his door. Again it was repeated; and, being still disregarded, a young Greek entered, leading with him a Jew. Vernon looked up, as if angry at the interruption; yet, when he saw who it was, leaping from his seat, with a countenance in which hope and anxiety seemed contending for the mastery, he eagerly exclaimed, "Have you found her at last! you have not again returned unsuccessful?"

"I have found one who will soon lead you to her residence," said the Greek, and his face flushed with the hope of success and with pride, as he listened to the commendation of his master.

"And now, Jew, lead on-I am ready to follow you."

"Ha, ha!" and his chuckling laugh sounded on the ear like the mirth of a demon! "You are in a hurry, good sir; do you think I will show you the way for nothing? First, I would like to make a little bargain with you, if you please," and his cunning features were lighted up with the expectation of gain, and the malignant glance of his eye wandered from one thing to another in the room, as if computing their value.

"Name your price and lead on, you croaking raven," exclaimed the impatient Vernon. "I have not time to waste with you. Boy, give him his demand." The exorbitant price of the Jew being granted, they descended; and under his guidance, traversing many a long street, they arrived in front of the house, which the Jew pointed out, as the one they sought.

"Ha, ha!" laughed the Jew again, as he left them. "I have shown him the gilded cage of the bird, and a nice little sum I got by it too; mayhap there is another would like to find the same path. I will keep a good look-out;" and he hastened away, counting over the yellow pieces and congratulating himself on his good fortune-wondering why men would throw away so much money for a foolish girl. "What a fool I was," muttered he. "I wish I had asked him for more; he was so free of his gold."

"The days have passed drearily since I saw thee, love!" said Vernon, as he clasped in his embrace the fairest of the dark eyed maidens of the tribe of Israel. "Dearest! it seems long since thy bright eyes beamed on me last; I sought thee, and thought thou wert gone forever; I came to meet thee beneath the tall palm tree, and when, almost in madness, I asked for thee, they laughed at me contemptuously, and told me, they had never known the nightingale and the vulture wed together."

Zaida's silence spoke more than words, for there was love flashing in her dark eye, and burning in her mantling cheek. They sat down, and soon forgot that swift-winged time was ever hurrying on; so gently did the silent hours pass by. Zaida soon found her voice, and explained to her lover the changes that had taken place; she spoke, too, of the absence of her father, and her fears for his safety. With gentle voice he quieted her forebodings, and she forgot all; trouble and care were lost in love. It was enough-he was once more by her side, and, as she listened to his words of love, she thought of none but him.

Henry Vernon was the eldest son of a wealthy gentleman in one of the inland towns in the south of England. He had graduated with high honors at one of the universities of his country. Though universally respected, and acknowledged as the possessor of enviable talents, still he was intimately known there by none, as he rather shunned than courted the intercourse of his fellows. He loved his books and lived in an ideal world of his own, and some called him a dreamer. His father, desiring his son should improve every advantage he was able to bestow, sent him on the customary tour through Europe. He went with a heart full of kind feelings and a mind stored with knowledge, and for months he had wandered over the scenes of ancient grandeur and ruined glory over the land of classic inspiration and the home of the Muses, where first thrilled the lyre beneath the gentle touch of the fabled god. To gratify the curiosity of seeing the oldest city of the east, he had visited Damascus; and as he carelessly strolled forth in an evening walk beyond the walls of the city, he had been the means of shielding the Hebrew maiden from insult and abuse, and having bestowed a merited chastisement upon the offender, he stood before her, her benefactor. Few men could boast a nobler or more manly frame than Vernon, in all the strength and pride of manhood. None could pass him by unnoticed, for there was a soul shining forth in his open countenance, and there were traces of deep thought upon his pale lofty brow, around which were clustered a profusion of rich brown locks. And she looked upon him with emotions she had never felt before. Could a Christian be so noble, so gallant, yet so gentle a being, as he who soothed her agitated spirits with such kindness? She thought of the wrongs the Christian had heaped upon her race, but he had never injured them, he had saved her from harm, and should she not be grateful?

And Vernon, he had never seen beauty such as hers.

Did

Zaida and Vernon met again; and is it strange they loved with fervent affection? Love a Jewess? Yes, he loved her the more. others despise her? He would cherish her. Would any point the finger of scorn at him? What cared he if all the world derided, if he possessed the treasures of her love. And Zaida, she thought of his religion and her father's ire; and once she determined to fling from her heart all thoughts of him; but when she saw him again, and he inquired so sadly why he had not seen her so long, and spoke in passionate strain of his ardent love, she remembered not her cold resolutions.