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Our offerings on thy altar. Oh! send down
Thy fire from heaven to kindle and accept them,

So shall thy inward fire shine in the hearts
Of Israel (gone astray, lost in the night
Of dark idolatry), and they shall know
That thou art Lord of Lords, the God of heaven.
[The whole scene becomes suddenly illuminated, and
a flume, descending on the altar, consumes the
sacrifice, and dries up the water in the trenches.

MIR. Wonderful-wonderful! Jehovah, thou Art God indeed: thou art the Lord of Lords!

CROWD. Sing, Sing Jehovah's praise, for he is God; He is the Lord of Lords, who reigns in heaven!

REUB. See, see, heaven opens, and the sacred fire Consumes the offering; it is as though

God stretched his own right arm down to the earth To accept the service of his worshippers.

ELIJAH. The trenches are dried up. The fire

returns

Into its native heaven. That last red streak

Just glimmers faintly in the west-and now 'Tis gone 'tis past—and hark! that fearful peal!

[Thunder is heard.

It is Jehovah speaks, answer him. Say

"Thou thou-art Lord of Lords, the God of

heaven."

MIR. Wonderful-wonderful! Jehovah thou Art God indeed: thou art the Lord of Lords!

CROWD. Sing, sing Jehovah's praise for he is God: He is the Lord of Lords who reigns in heaven! HIGH P. Away! away! The Evil One prevails, The foe of Baal.

[Elijah and the crowd kneel before the altar. The Priests of Baal rush out tumultuously. The

scene closes.

SKETCH FROM LIFE,

A SENTIMENTAL STORY.

Qui que tu sois, voici ton maitre,
Il l'est, le fut, ou le doit être.

"THERE is no faith in woman!" I exclaimed to myself the other morning, and I repeated it thrice with increasing emphasis.

"There is no faith in woman.-And what woman has taught you to think so?" said a soft voice

near me.

I started, for I had most unconsciously been uttering my thoughts aloud, while leaning on the back of my cousin Agatha's couch, with my eyes resting on the sheet of music paper which lay before her. I coloured as her glance met mine. "Nay-is it not true?" said I.

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'Nay," she repeated-" I will not be answered by a nay!-cousin Henry."

66 But my

dear cousin-my dear Agatha"-cried I, you are a woman, and a beautiful woman-you can

be no judge."

"And supposing I admit it," said Agatha, smiling, "what has my beauty to do with either my womanhood, or my judgment?"

"There you may answer it yourself-what woman can judge of her sex's failings!-what beautiful woman can deal fairly by a sister beauty?"

"Is this all?" replied she, "Then you have learned to libel us merely from the cant of the day!" "It is the cant of ages," said I.

"Surely not!-the cant of the careless and the unmeaning-but not where there is a heart and head to think, and to feel-no, my dear cousin, do not repeat it. There is both trust and truth in woman." Agatha," said I, why have you never mar

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ried ?"

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Harry," returned she, "why have you this ill opinion of our sex?"

"Pshaw! but with your beauty, and your wit, and your fortune and consequence”

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"Tell me why do you quarrel with us?"Harry," continued my cousin, interrupting me with more earnestness, we must not let our own individual disappointments disgust us with the world at large-search well, and we shall discover our injustice-besides, let us be content though we meet but one faithful heart amidst a crowd of treachery."

"And how shall we find it? Where shall we meet with this faithful heart in woman? No, Agatha,"

cried I, "you mistake the character of woman-you do not know her-you cannot know her-you, who must always be every way above the rest of your sex, and as different as inimitable!"

She was silent, she was even grave for a moment or two, and the shade of thought in the expression of her bland and beautiful countenance seemed almost as if it grew into sadness. She looked at me with a

smile, "Cousin," said she,

"tell me your history?

you have been unfortunate;" and she pointed with her small and snow white hand to the vacant seat beside her on the sofa.

There was a gentleness, a delicacy, and a tenderness in my cousin Agatha's disposition which gave a charm to her slightest action. It was a gracefulness of character which seemed to have inspired the gracefulness of her person and her every motion, though it was a something beyond grace which made her tone of feeling, both in gaiety and sorrow, irresistible. I seated myself beside her on the sofa, and did as she had bid me. "I have been in love," said I, "it is my whole history."

"And what then?" she enquired,

mistress unfaithful?"

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was your

"I have told you all in one word—woman and infidelity go together!" I paused for some minutes,

and when I spoke again I had obtained more selfpossession.

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