THE FALL OF JERUSALEM.
BY JAMES H. DANA,
Tr was a summer evening in Judes. The olives on the higher grounds were just putting forth thelr enrly groen; the meadows were dotied with sheep and camels; and the birds sang from every bush. ‘The distant hills were crowned each with its village or city. Maidens, bearing water-jars, were seen grace- fally winding, in long lines, to the fountains. The tun had just set, but the Western Heavens were yet ina gtow; while, in the East, tbe young and silvery moon hung, like an Arab soimetnr, shove the horitoa.
In the gardens of « large and princely mansion, overlooking this lovely scene, were two individuals, Que was 9 fomale, on the verge of womanhood, and beamtifal even beyond her beatiful race; for the Jexariant raven bair, the bold profile, the dashing eye, and the majeatia form proclaimed her a Jewess. Her attire was rich und betokened rank. She stood, looking musingly on the ground; while hee compa- nion, who was of the other sex, and who wore the drees of & Roman, carncally ber.
“Ney! Miriam,” he said, “sarely you have some answer for me. By the happy houre we have spent together—hy the hope of fature felicity bere on earth —anewer me one word, do you love met
“Publius,” sbe mid, lifting her eyes to his face, “you know not what you esk. The customs of my vace are intrautable, and forbid its maidens to match ‘with strangers, My father would never conseat that Tebould wed you, Much as be estoems you, great 48 is the gratitude he owee you for saving his life from the proconsul’s rage, ha would sooner behold mmo n corpse at his foot than tha bride of an alien. Had he known, when he invited you home from Sermalem with him, thet you would prefer this suit to his danghter, he would have cut off his right hand before extending it to you in amity.”
“And yet,” snid ber companion, “all this is no answer to my question. I know, dear Miriam, the hard customs of your race, aud how all Jews shun connexion with aliens, I know too that among the strictest of bis tribe, your father is one of the most strict, But, only assure me of your love, and I will hope for the removal of all obstactes. I have bigh eonnexions in the Roman court, and, in troubled limes like these, might be of service to your family.” Miriam shoox ber head, as she answered.
“Alaa! that would be only an additional reason why my father would refime you. In the etraggte that seoms approaching, between this ill-fated nation and the Roman power, my parent will be found with his countrymen, end he would reject with acorn aay thing like correspondence with the foe,”
‘The young Roman, for he was both young and of great manly beaaty, sighed, and was silent for a ‘while. Sut he again easayed his suit.
“Miriam,” be said, “I know you love me—thea why this concealment? I know it by a thoosand things. Have we not been daily together almost since the snows melted from the higher hills? Have we not read the poets of my native land in company, ati] our hearts beat responsive? Have we not tallrod of the falure, and felt the bond of sympathy drawing ‘us togeiber the while? And have wo not, cach with the other, perused the sacred booke of your religion, and read those sublime prophecies which point to the Redeemer in whom we both believe? Ob! Miriam, when } think that we slone of all this household are ‘Christians—that we though bora of different races, are now brother and sister in one faith--I cannot but believe that God bas marked us ont for each other, ‘acd in thus bringing ve together, has united our des tinies for this world, and the world to come. By that common faith I conjure you,” he mid, earnestly, taking her hand, “to answer me truly, and without evasion. Do you not love me?”
Miriam’s eyes were suffused with teara at this cold nées; and its solemnity overcoming her resolution, ‘she looked confidingly into her lover's face, and said,
“Thus adjured, Publics, I answer that I do love you, Bat there my concessions must stop. I cannot disobey my father, wor will you, I am sure, atk me; for, by 80 doing, you will violate that holy religion we both secretly profess. I will never marry another, however. No, while life endures, your image shall be ever before me, and if,” she continued with streaming eyes, “we should never meet again in this life, may we look forward toa blissful re-union among the ro- deemed. And that we may do that, oh! beloved of my heart, keep true to your faith.”
“I will not plead further,” said her lover, deeply
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