THE Hebrew's prayer. 193 



nature of the sounds 1 had heard left little room for doubt, when 

 it occurred to me, that the intrusion of a stranger, though with 

 the best intentions, might be considered unwelcome. I deter- 

 mined, therefore, to pause, and endeavour first to ascertain what 

 was passing within, and how far my presence might be desirable. 



This was easily done, as the draperies which were suspended 

 in front of the window, were but partially closed, and admitted 

 of my obtaining a full view of the interior without being ob- 

 served. 



A single lamp, suspended from the ceiling, shed its dubious 

 light through an apartment, in which the taudry gilding of the 

 cornices was strangely at variance with the simplicity, nay, 

 almost meanness, of the furniture. Upon a couch, the antiquity 

 of whose form was in keeping with the rest of the chamber, 

 lay an old Hebrew (for such his appearance bespoke him to be), 

 evidently in the last stage of existence. The snow-white locks, 

 scattered thinly over his brow — his sunken eyes — and emaciated 

 features, proclaimed that his years had already far exceeded the 

 span allotted for human life. A young female knelt by his side, 

 apparently not more than sixteen years of age. Her dress was 

 unaffectedly simple; and on her looks was pourtrayed that 

 melancholy resignation with which a well-regulated mind con- 

 templates the loss of all that it holds most dear. An elderly 

 woman, who appeared to be acting as nurse to the invalid, and 

 two old men, who were engaged in earnest conversation at the 

 foot of the bed, completed the group. 



At this instant, the noise of revelry at the farther end of the 

 street, distracted my attention ; and when I returned to my post 

 at the window, I observed that the old man, whose eyes had 

 hitherto been fixed upon his daughter, had now changed his 

 position, and was intently watching an hour-glass, which stood 

 near the bed, as if he would count the moments he had yet to 

 live. The sand had nearly run through — a few seconds only, 

 and another hour would be added to the eternity of the past. 

 At length, the last grain trickled down ; and the invalid, raising 

 himself on his pillow as far as his feebleness would allow, waved 

 his hand as though he would request attention. 



Weakness and emotion at first rendered his voice inaudible ; 

 but from the expression of his countenance, and the few words 

 which reached my ears, it appeared that he was exhorting his 

 daughter to patience and resignation under the approaching 

 calamity. By degrees, however, he rallied, and I caught the 

 following words: — "Weep not, Zillah — nor do you, my friends, 

 waste the precious moments in fruitless lamentations for that 

 which must eventually be the lot of all. The hand of the 

 Almighty is upon me, and the chill clammy sweat of death already 

 settles on my brow ; my eyes grow dim — and my tongue with 

 diflSculty performs its wonted office ; — yet could I not go down 

 to my grave in peace, were the present hour to pass unsanctified 



