of which he had been in search. He perused with Myron the dialogues of him whom his disciples called the divine. Those were hours never to be forgotten, in which his doctrine of reminiscences, of virtue that is not to be taught or learned, of That which is, first irradiated his mind. About this time he became acquainted with a wise Jew, who was also a Platonist, and profoundly skilled in the interpretation of the law. He could answer every question which Helon wished to ask, respecting the sense of scripture. He explained to him the seven days of creation, and the ten commandments, in their spiritual import; and taught him much respecting the world of ideas, which he had not found even in Plato. His new teacher represented the divine intelligence, not as an attribute of God, but as a being having a distinct existence, and called it the image of God, his first born son, the highest of the angels and the primeval man. For a long time his fancy rioted in these speculations, to which he was so entirely devoted, that if he continued to observe the law, it was owing to the pure and simple manners to which he was accustomed in his father's family. But every thing which only gratifies the understanding loses its charm, especially with men of lively and ardent temperament, when it loses its novelty. When Helon's first transport at the enlargement of his views had subsided, and cool reflection began to resume her sway; when he perceived that Myron could, with equal ease, explain aud vindicate the worship of Jupiter, Bacchus and Apollo-the Orphic and Dionysian mysteriesand all the idolatries of polytheism, by the aid of the same principles which his teacher had applied to the interpretation of scripture; suspicions were awakened in his mind that these principles could not be true. That which converts falsehood into truth, he thought, can never increase the force and evidence of truth. The promises which were given to Israel, the threatenings and warnings of Jehovah against participation in idolatry, recurred to his mind. The image of his deceased father was daily held up to him by his mother, as one who had abhorred the system of the Hellenists. A feeling of pride in his own nation as the chosen people of Jehovah, was awakened in his bosom, and he could no longer take pleasure in the society of Myron. He began now to remark the endless varieties and inconsistencies of these allegorical interpretations. Every one, full of the persuasion of his own wisdom, expounded the divine word according to his own fancy. Helon could not but perceive that all this wisdom was an arbitrary, selfinvented, human system of doctrine respecting divine things, in opposition to which, not only Plato but the whole tenor of scripture taught him, that God only can be our instructer in things relating to himself, and that human reason must here rely upon revelation. This revelation he found in the law delivered to his nation upon mount Sinai, under circumstances the most impressive and sublime. While this train of thought, tended to alienate him from the Hellenists and their system, his mother one evening remarked to him with sorrow his slowness in fulfilling the divine precepts. At first he was so much offended by it, that he replied to her remonstrances only by a sarcastic look, and retired to his books. But conscience did not allow him to rest. Suddenly the divine denunciation occurred to him, "The eye that mocketh at his father, and despiseth to obey his mother, the ravens of the valley shall pick it out, and the young eagles shall eat it.”* He was deeply moved, and now saw with opened eyes the abyss of immorality, to the edge of which his new wisdom had conducted him. He had long desired to be free from the burthensome duties of the law, and he had now transgressed against the first commandment with promise. He felt to what this heathen philosophy, this partial culture of the mind, was bringing him; and in the lives of its professors he saw, in all their rank maturity, the vices, of which he discovered the seeds in his own heart. They lived without a law, sunk in heathen vice and immorality. He now perceived that nothing but the most faithful obedience to the law could make him truly happy, * Prov. xxx. 17. that in this way only he became a partaker in the promises of God to the upright, and that the passion for allegories had corrupted his mind instead of enlightening it. These reflections determined him to return to the faith of his fathers. He now felt himself once more at home under his paternal roof; his former filial reverence for his mother returned; his father's spirit seemed to smile on his conversion; and the experienced counsels of his uncle proved much more than an equivalent to him for all the wisdom of the Museum. All the joys and the longings of his childhood returned upon him; the feelings of the present moment seemed to be linked immediately to the remembrances of his boyish days, and all that had intervened appeared like a period of delusion. His desire to behold Jerusalem came over him again, in all its original vividness; it had been the strongest of his early feelings, and the very names of Canaan, Zion and Jerusalem had held a mysterious sway over his imagination. His mother, as he sat upon her knees, had told him of the place, towards which he was taught to lisp his prayer; of the thousands who went up to the feast; of Moses, David and Solomon ; and had represented Egypt as a land of exile, as another Babel, in comparison with the land of his fathers. He often saw her weep when she spoke of Jericho and her native city, and related how she, when a maiden, had gone up in the choir of singers to the festival, but must now remain in a strange land. As the severest punishment for his childish offences, he used to be told, that it would be a long time before he would be fit to accompany his father on a pilgrimage to the Holy Land ; and the reward of his proficiency and his obedience was the promise of a sight of Jerusalem. When Jews from the holy city visited Alexandria, and, as their custom was, came to see his father, it was a festival for Helon; he regarded these strangers with scarcely less veneration than his fathers had done Jeremiah, and tried all the insinuating arts of which he was possessed, to induce the most courteous among them to tell him something about the land of his ancestors. It was the land of promise, the theme of sacred song, the theatre of sacred history. When his father was in a cheerful mood, he used to relate anecdotes of his pilgrimages, beginning and ending every narrative with the words of the children of Korah: The Lord loveth the gates of Zion, Whose foundation is in the holy mountains, O city of God !-Ps. lxxxvii. The journey from which his father never returned, was to have been the last which he made alone-on the next Helon was to have accompanied him. His grief at being obliged to remain at home, his mother's tears, his father's solemn farewell, as it were prophetic of the fatal event; his mother's daily remarks, "Now they are in Hebron; today they will reach Jerusalem; today the passover begins; today it will be over;" their joyful expectations of his return, and the overwhelming intelligence of his death, had all combined to leave an impression on his mind, which he had with difficulty mastered for a time, and which now revived with uncontrolable force. Since his return to the law of his fathers, a pilgrimage to Jerusalem had been his dream by night and his thought by day: Leontopolis, the character and proceedings of the Hellenists, and even the conversation at this evening's entertainment, all conspired to convince him, that Egypt was no place for the fulfilment of the law. It was now the predominant wish of his soul to become a true Israelite, a faithful follower of the law, and a worthy member of the people of the Lord, and he felt that only in the Holy Land could he become so. All these reflections and retrospects of his past life filled the mind of Helon as he laid down his harp upon the parapet of the roof, and paced up and down in strong emotion. At times he stopped, and fixing his eyes on the northeast, almost persuaded himself that the clouds which he saw there were the hills of Judah. In the mean time Sallu, who, like his master, had been unable to sleep, had silently placed a lamp in the Alijah. Helon was attracted by the light and went in. A roll lay unfolded; he looked into it, and opened at the splendid description which an exile at Nineveh, of the tribe of Naphthali, makes of the holy city. "O Jerusalem, the holy city! Many nations shall come from far to the name of the Lord God, with gifts in their hands. Blessed are they that love thee, and rejoice in thy peace. Let my soul bless God, the great King: for the Lord our God will deliver Jerusalem from all her afflictions. The gates of Jerusalem shall be built of sapphires and emeralds and precious stones; thy towers and battlements of pure gold; and the streets of Jerusalem shall be paved with white marble, and in all her streets shall they say, Hallelujah! Praised be God who hath exalted her, and may his kingdom endure forever. Amen."* Hallelujah," he exclaimed, "that before me an Egyptian Jew could put such words into the mouth of a captive at Nineveh." He hastened to his harp, and placing the footstool under his foot, turned towards the Holy Land as he sung, O Jehovah, thou art my God, early will I seek thee. Would that I might see thy sanctuary, To behold thy power and glory -Ps. lxiii. He knew by heart all the psalms which had any relation to Jerusalem, and no sooner had he finished one, than his fingers and his voice, unbidden, began another. When Israel went out of Egypt, The house of Jacob from a people of strange language, Israel his dominion.-Ps. cxiv. His own pilgrimage to Jerusalem seemed to him like the departure of Israel from Egypt fourteen hundred years before, and he was transported at once to those remote ages with so lively a feeling, that the psalm seemed to him to spring fresh *Tobit x. |