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VOL. VI.
J. H. & W. B. SEALS }
ATLANTA, GA., SEPTEMBER IS, 1SS0.
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NO. 269
Saul and the Spirit of Samuel.
BY WM. HOWE.
SAMUEL.
O, wretched king, say why dost thou
Disturb me in my grave's repose;
The gloom and anguish on thy brow
Foretells the doom and thy life’s close;
The power, the spell, the charm, the night
Which crowned thee once a Hebrew King,
Will crush thee In the coming fight
And make thee but a worthless thing.
Saul.
Spirit of power, on thee I call,
To know why Urlm speaks no more,
Why prophets and the voice of dreams
No longer guide me as before;
What mystic power enthralls my fa‘e,
’ In gathering wrath and dark’uing gloom.
Oh! Samuel, 'tis for this I wait,
For this I’ve called thee from the tomb.
Samuel.
Thou hast forsaken Israel’s God,
Now Israel’s God foi saketb thee.
A shepherd boy will wield thy rod—
His offspring ages yet to be;
Thy foes increase—a mighty host,
To-morrow ere the set of sun,
Thou, too, shalt be a hapless ghost,
Thy kingdom rent, thy power undone!
Saul.
Dread prophet, none will hear my plea,
My diadem may scorch my brow,
All prostrate do I bend to thee
Since heaven and earth oppose me now ;
Yet will 1 try my sword and shield
And brave the angry power on high,
Back to thy tomb, I will not yield,
In battle let me bravely die!
NAEMA.
A Beautiful Eastern Story,
Translated from, the Swede by one of our
most learned Contributors.
BY A. O. E.
CHAPTER I.
THE VINEYARD.
The sun was already inclining toward the
summit of Mount Carmel, but as yet the
evening had brought no coolness. The air
was glowing hot, and not a breat h of wind
ruffled the blue mirror of Lake Geimesaret.
The shadows from the palaces of the recently
built Tiberias, from the fishermen’s cottages
in Bethsaida. and from the houses of the rich
merchants in Cap. rnaum, grew longer and
longer on the surface of the lake.
Hasub, the merchant, was standing on the
flat roof of a tower, which he had erected
in his vineyard on an elevation above Caper
naum. His glances were traveling over the
beautiful landscape which extended below
The gorgeous city appeared to be sinking into
the shades of the evening between the foot
of the mountain and the reed-covered shore,
whilst above the broad lake the waterfowls
were lazily hovering on their long wings. A
broad, yellowish stripe, which from the north
extended far into the lake and gradually dis
appeared in its clear blue water, designated
the furrow in which rolled the waves of the
Jordan. No fisherman’s boat had yet left the
shore, and a peculiarly oppressive desolation
rested over the densely populated and richly
cultivated region.
tV it! i in Hasub’s vineyard silence also pre
vailed. He had dismissed his men with the
exception of the one who was to spend the
night in the tower to watch over his magni
ficent crop of grapes. But on the wide wall
which enclosed the vineyard, a young girl, j
the merchant's daughter, was walking among |
the vines. She was an eastern beauty in the
first fresh bloom of youth. Her movements !
were mellow and waving, such as are seen
only in the daughters of the East, and her |
willowy figure bended gracefully to avoid j
any branch which seemed bent upon obstruct
ing her passage. Her large eyes, dark as j
night, were directed through the holes of her :
ample veil toward the lake and the opposite
shore, the romantic mountains of which vied '
with each other in the beauty of their form
and their blue-tinted elevation.
Hasub contemplated for a few moments
his daughter’s airy motions with paternal j
pride, but his attention was drawn to a road
which led to the city from the north, and
passed close under the wall around the vine- |
yard. On this road a few men on horseback '
were approaching. They appeared to come j
from Syria over Jacob's bridge, which |
spanned" Jordan a little above the place where
it empties itself into Genesaret, and seemed
to be quite exhausted by the great heat; then-
horses were scarcely able to drag their feet
along, and their arms and clothes were cov
ered with dust. The keen eye of the experi- j
enced merchant soon recognized them as Ro- •
man warriors. A feeling of patriotic dis- 1
favour darted through the bosom of the old |
Jew at this sight, and he continued following ■
them with his eyes.
In the meantime they came nearer and j
halted finally close to the wall. Suddenly :
there was heard a powerful voice, speaking :
with a strange, barbaric accent:
"Here, young woman on the wall yonder!
Tell us where we can find a shelter, and get j
us some water. We are dying of thirst. - ’
"The girl, who was walking thoughtful,
and musing, by herself without noticing the j
arrival of the strangers, started at this unex-
pected address, and immediately jumped
down from the wall into the vineyard.
"You always were a Medusa to all handsome
women, Herigarius,” said a voice in elegant j
Latin. “Your coarse Gothic, man. has fright- j
ened the beautiful Jewess to death.’’
"Don’t speak about it,centurion !” answer- ’
ed the barbaric voice. "I can't enjoy any
pleasantries to-day. It is so close, so oppres- |
sively hot here, that you can’t draw an hon- I
est breath! I will remain here and rest a few !
moments in the shade of this wall. You can I
send one of the slaves into the city and in- •
quire where the young Jew’s house is.”
"You are going to remain here then, Heri- 1
garius?” asked the Roman.
“If I only could get a drink of water to re- I
fresh myself with!” resumed the Goth. I
“Here, you in the vineyard yonder!" At
POMPEV TIIXAKS IIE HAS III AO A WHALE.
these words he knocked at the gate with his
lance. “Open, woman, and give me some
thing to drink. You have a well in there, I
suppose?”
The terrified girl stood trembling near the
hedge and looked around. She did not know
whether it was her duty to run away or to
wait upon the thirsty stranger.
But as soon as Hasub heard what was go
ing on, he descended from the tower, called
the watchman, and hastened to the girl. He
told her to go to the tower, and ordered the
watchman to get water and gather some
grapes. He himself went to open the gate,
upon which the lance continued hammering
“Wait, I will open!” cried Hasub.
“Well, at last!’’ clamoured several voices
from without.
The girl only heard these words, and the
noise of the gate when it was opened. With
rapid steps she hastened through the watch
man’s room and the stair rooms above it, up
to the roof. Closely wrapped in her veil, she
observed from there what was happening
with the unexpected and intrusive guests be
low.
As soon as the gate was opened the strang
ers entered the vineyard. One of them was
a young, handsome Roman, dressed in a
traveling cloak and with a light sword at
his side; the other a tall warrior in half ar
mour, belonging to the German auxiliaries
in the Roman army.
Hasub bowed several times to them, and
said:
"May fortune be with you, my lords! Your
visit brings great honor to my humble house.
If there is anything here that pleases you,
pray give your commands. It is my duty to
obey, my lords.”
"Very- well. Jew,” said the Roman. “Give
us water to slack our thirst.and a few grapes.
I see you have some beautiful ones here in
your vineyard.”
“Yes. and tell us where we can find our
quarters,” said the Goth. “We will stay
this night with Salathiel, or whatever his
name is, a young merchant in this city. ”
"Salathiel!” asked the old man, surprised.
“Yes,” rejoined the young Roman, “he is
a young merchant whom we met with in
Tyre and who lives here, as he said. He de
parted before us and is probably at home by
this time.”
“In Tyre!” said the old man. "But when, j
my lords, when did you see him! My son,
Salathiel! And he has not returned yet
“Are you Salathiel's father, old man!”
asked the Roman. “We found him in Tyre
two days ago. He ought to have been here
already.”
“OK God of my fathers,” sighed Hasub, I
“preserve him from all evil!”
“He has probably not had time to finish
his business yet,” remarked the Goth. “But
now, in the mean while, see that we get
something to quench our thirst w;ith.”
The watchman came with a jar full of
water and put it on the ground before the
strangers, so as not to be obliged to touch
them. The Roman smiled and broke off a
bunch of grapes, which he ate, while the
Goth, growling, lifted the jar with water to
his lips.
Old Hasub in the meantime grew more and
more uneasy. He was obliged to receive and
entertain his guests, though he was greatly
concerned about his son. But he soon made
up his mind, however.
"My lords and guests,” he said, “I cannot J
entertain you properly here in the vineyard j
until my son comes, may God guide him! I 1
therefore pray you to "go with me to my j
house in the city, where everything I have i
shall be at your service. But permit me to
ask if my son was in good health and if
every thing was prosperous w-ith him?”
“He appeared to be in good spirits,” the j
Roman answered, with a proud mien but j
more politely than before. “We willingly '
receive your hospitable invitation: we need
rest above anything, for our journey during
this hot day has been very tiresome. ”.
“My house is just below the hill,” said
Hasub, “if it pleases you my lords, I w-ill go i
with you thither. I shall send my servants
before us and tell my wife to prepare a bath
and a repast.”
Hasub thereupon took the watchman aside. |
sent him to his daughter to bid her remain 1
till her father should come for her, and then
told him to hasten to the city in advance of i
them.
In the meanwhile he detained the strangers
with eastern compliments and occasionally !
asked some questions concerning his son, urn
til the servant had had time to execute his j
orders. He then conducted them out of the
vineyard, locked the gate very carefully and \
put the cunningly wrought copper kev in his
belt.
"Do you lock up the young woman we saw
on the wall!” asked the Goth, astonished.
Hasub was confused.
"It is the wife of one of my workmen.” he
answered artfully, and commenced walking 1
toward bis home. Both his guests and their
servants, who had been waiting outside, fol
lowed him.
The girl, who observed from the tower ,
that she was being left alone, was seized by [
an uneasy depression. The oppressive air
weighed on her chest so heavily that she hast
ened down from the tower in order to get a !
breath of fresh air and give free course to j
her feelings in the shade of a terebinth.
Although she was the daughter of a rich
merchant, the young Naema had never been
away from her native city. She knew many .
things from the holy writings which her [
father possessed and which he was able to
read as well as the most learned rabbi, but
the world and the people for whom they were
composed she knew not. Under her mohter’s
supervision she had, as is proper for every
well-brought-up daughter of Israel, already
assisted her father in his business by manu
facturing those tastefully knitted and vari
egated belts which found such a good market
in the cities of Asia Minor. She was well in
structed in the sacred art of dancing and the
music according to which it is executed, but
as yet no stranger had ever seen her dance.
She had been taught the high art of playing
on the “kinnor,” the favorite instrument of
King David, by an old Levite whom her
father had found robbed and nearly dead at
the roadside and taken into his house. The
rumor of all these qualities in the young
maiden, as well as of her beauty and virtue,
was spread far and wide, but she knew that
her father had not yet sold her and she was
convinced that he would only give her to a
youth who was worthy of her. Therefore
no sorrow weighed on her heart, and she had
enjoyed the days of her happy youth in her
father’s house without any anxiety until
now. when the thought of their possibly
approaching end commenced to arise in her
mind. The idea of separation from father,
mother and home was made less repugnant,
however, by her curiosity to see the holy city,
David’s city, and the face of the young man
whom she was to call the lord of her life.
Being left alone with her thoughts in the
silent hour of evening, she turned tnem to
her future, and main - disquieting feelings
chase! each other in her heart. A woman of
the East looks for her happiness in quite dif
ferent directions from a European, but the
exalted and enlightened views with which
the young Naema had been inspired as well
by the sacred writings as the narratives of
her father, who had traveled far and wide,
had awakened in her the desire for higher
achievements than those which can be accom
plished'* in a harem. In her pure mind the
lofty ideas of the Mosaic religion, its holy
commands and divine prophecies, had de
veloped a patriotic enthusiasm which would
have made a heroine, a Deborah, of her, had
not a tender heart and a delicate sensitive
ness instead bent her inspiration toward the
poetic element. When she played on the
harp and sang for the old Levite, Semira-
moth, it was chief!}- images of the future glo
rious reign of Mess'ah and bis victories that
she represented. Her father listened to her
with pleasure and on that account took
greater interest in her, imparted to her more
of the treasures of his experience and showed
more concern regarding her education than
is commonly the case in the East. Hers was
one of those deep minds that had been richly
endowed by nature, but the developement of
| which depends on external circ«msta.nces.
S The sun w as setting behind the mountains
on the shore of the Mediterranean, the sky
1 grew darker, and its deep azure looked still
| deeper when mirrored in the pure, transpa-
[ rent w-ater of lake Gennesaret. Scarcely
I had the glow of the evening taken the place
I of the sun’s light at the edge of the horizon, j
before the heat and oppressiveness of the j
' day yielded to a cool, refreshing evening I
! breeze. A gentle ripple spread itself slowly i
! over the broad lake, w-hich commenced j
glimmering w-ith a peculiar, phosphorescent |
| light. Twilight in those southern latitudes j
: is very short, and night had soon tnveloped |
the whole region in its dark veil.
| Naema felt more and more sad and cast j
down. The sultry heat had changed into a j
! sharp coolness, and she commenced to feel
! chilly. She arose therefore and went to the
j tower, to the uppermost chamber of which j
’ she ascended, and looked out through its
| apertures. Everything appeared empty and ■
| desolate. Not a single living being was j
seen on the dark lake. The town itself ap j
peared buried in silence. Her uneasy glances j
sought something living to rest upon, the .
gloomy thoughts of ghosts, which were not j
foreign to the doctrines of her religion, hav
ing taken a harrow-ing possession of her
mind. It seemed to her as if the images of
death would lose their terror, if she only
' could see a human being. When she read of <
King Solomon’s visit to the Witch of Endor, 1
she had fei. herself seizod by the same indefi
nite fear, the same tormenting apprehen
sions. It appeared to her as if something j
terrible from the realms of the dead was to i
rise before her also, unless some of the pow
ers of life was near her. Whilst her excited
imagination thus was filling her mind with
fears, she perceived a light glimmering on
the lake shoi e, near the city. A red flame
threw- its reflection over the nearest objects,
and over a few fishermen and their boat,
which was being pushed off from the shore.
"It is our neighbor Simon,” said the young
girl to herself, trying in vain, on account of
the distance, to recognize the figures of the
fishermen. Her heart grew lighter though
she w-as trembling with cold. At last the
cold became so severe that she was obliged
to throw around her a cloak which happened
to be lying near her. She continued, how
ever, to look out, leaning against the wall.
Finally, late in the night, she heard a noise
at the gate. It opened and she recognized
her father who was followed by a couple of
slaves carrying burning torches. Naema
was about hastening to meet him, but her
strength failed her. During the chilly eve
ning she bad caught one of the sudden colds
which are so prevalent in those regions,
i The old father hastened to the girl full of
apprehension, as he saw her weak and nearly
sense’es«.
“You are ill, Naema,” he said, “but you
will soon be well again. We will carry you
to your mother's chamber.”
The slaves brought a litter that was stand
ing in the vineyard. Naema thanked her
father with a loving smile for his tender
care, and sank down on the litter. Hasub
hastened to carry her home.
CHAPTER H.
THE MIRACLE.
The fire of fever raged in the veins of the
young girl. Her mild, gentle features had
expanded into a wild vivacity. Her modest
gazelle-eyes rolled around excitedly and
meaningless words were slipping over her
dry h'ps. Her strength was momentarily
waning. Her respiration grew feebler, and
it looked as if the last sigh was ready to leave
her bosom.
“Oh God of our fathers!” lamented the
mother. “Is there no salvation for our
child?”
Hasub was sitting by the bed in silence.
Only a sigh which now and then escaped his
breast and a tear that glittered in his eve
bore witness of his sorrow. Finally, as he
heard the distracted mother’s exclamation,
he said:
“There yet remains one hope. I will go to
the Great Physician, Simon’s master.”
As soon as the old man had conceived this
idea, he executed it. He descended into the
courtyard, awoke a slave whom he ordered
to follow, and went silently past the room
where the strangers slept, out into the dark
night.
The mother continued her watch at her
daughter’s bedside. The deep silence was
only interrupted by the rattle in the young
girl’s breast who was in her death agony.
The night was nearly past, but no streak
of daylight had as yet pierced its shades.
Naema’s mother called one of her female
slaves.
“Talmona,” she said, “go up to the loft-
room and look out over the lake. Tell me if
you can see any of the fishermen’s boats.”
The dark slave, a strongly built E 1 hiopian,
ascended the narrow staircase which led to
the small room on the roof, surrounded by a
veranda. Having looked over the lake, she
went to the veranda-railing and spoke down
wards.
“Mistress,” she said, “I see the fishermen
returning home. Their fires are coming
nearer and nearer.”
“Do you see our neighbor Simon and his
boat?” the mother asked from her chamber.
Talmona again went toward ihe lake side.
After awhile she said:
“Simon is just now approaching the shore.
There are four or five men in the boat.
Mistress,” she exclaimed eagerly, “ your
husband is on the shore to meet him. I can
see them very distinctly in the torch light.”
“Oh that the Master were with them!”
sighed the mother, and went to her daugh
ter’s bed. Just as she was laying her hand
on the young girl’s heart, a deep rattle was
heard in her breast, a heavy sigh trembled
on her lips, a violent spasm shook her limbs,
and her heart ceased to beat.
The distressed mother who was loth to
credit the reality of her calamity, pressed
her hand convulsively against the chest of
the dead girl, and burst forth in violent
tears. Talmona’s voice was again heard
from the veranda:
“Mistress, I see master bending his knee to
somebody, as if he was a great lord!”
“Too late!” wailed the mother, her tears
streaming over the girl’s cold hand. But
just as she was giving free c\ urse to her sor
row, she suddenly felt a pressure from the
rigid fingers. A tremor darts through the
limbs of the girl, and she rose up in bed.
She opened her dark, soft eyes, and looked at
her mother so quietly and tenderly in the
mild light from the lamp in the sick chamber,
that it was quite plain that the sickness had
entirely left her.
“Do not cry any more, mother,” she said.
“God has worked a miracle on me.”
The mother, silent and aghast, scarcely be
lieved her eyes. She pressed the daughter
to her* heart, and kissed her as if she had been
born anew, as if she had been given to her by
heaven for the second time. The change
from sorrow to joy was too sudden, the old
woman’s dizzy head sank on Naema’s shoul
der, and her feelings were gradually soothed
by the continuous, abundant flow of tears
that coursed over the young girl’s bosom.
The dark Talmona exclaimed:
1 Master has arisen and is coming home!”
Having given this information, the slave
descended and entered the sick chamber.
To her great astonishment she found the
young maiden entirely restored.
When the wings of death are hovering
ovtr man, he experiences a solemn, blissful
sensation, and the danger of death is there
fore one of the circumstances which has a
powerful influence on the moulding of the
heart, if not the most powerful. Naema ex
perienced this sensation to its full extent
after her sudden sickness and miraculous de
liverance. Having been near death without
finding it so hard and terrible as she had
imagined, she felt a peculiar, new power, a
higher, purer spirit arising within her. An
element of greater depth and earnestness
filled her soul, and yet her mind was more
tender and impressible than formerly.
She embraced her mother and said to her:
“Let me receive my father, when he comes,
as solemnly as lean, oh my mother! Let
Talmona bring my dress of honor.”
“My daughter,” answered her old mother,
“do according to the desire of thy heart. I
will also bless the God of our fathers, and re
joice that my child is given back to me. Go,
dark Talmona, and do as my daughter tells
you.”
As soon as the Ethiopian had had time to
recover from her first surpri-e, she said:
“Our lord and master will soon be here: I
will therefore hasten. Thirza and Hagar
can prepare the bath in the meanwhile.”
“Yes,” rejoined the mother. “Tell them
to do so, and make haste yourself.”
The slave left the room. Mother and
daughter again embraced each other: it was
as if their love had redoubled since they
again had found each other, after once hav
ing bid each other farewell forever.
In the meanwhile the old Hasub had arrived
at his gate. The slave who was gate keeper,
knew his master’s sign, and opened it silently.
A feeling of fear and anxiety seized upon the
father, when he glanced at the gate-keeper’s
face in the torch light, as if he expected to
read the doom of life or death in it. But the
old slave knew nothing and only stared at
his master with dull eyes, void of all expres-
[CONTINUED ON EIGHTH PAGE.]