nests in the cypress that shaded her father's tomb, were all that was heard, and these sounded more like the hush than the voice of nature. She looked towards the hallowed cave, and saw the ferns and briony had already sprung up and half concealed the stone that closed it. She well remembered her sensations when she saw that stone placed there, and the mournful procession turned again to seek their empty dwelling. She feared that her mother must feel these sad recollections even more than she herself did, and she did not dare to look towards her till they had again immerged into the wood; when she cast a look of apprehension on her, expecting to see her overcome with gloomy sadness; but it was no such thing, her countenance expressed nothing but its usual inanity, when not sunk in mournful thought or roused by peevishness and anger, for the soft and gentle passions seldom animated it. Sephora, though relieved from her fears, felt half dissatisfied to see no sign of fond recollection, no token of departed happiness as she passed that spot where so much of her own lay entombed. She was much surprised too at this indifference, and began to muse in her mind whether it could be grief for her father's loss that occasioned the dejection of her mother. She knew of no other cause for sorrow, yet it was strange that she should pass his grave for the first time, as far as she knew, since he had been laid in it, without any apparent remembrance of him. But she tried to drive away perplexing thought, and only to feel thankful that whatever the cause of her mother's gloom might be, she had been free from it this day. She did not doubt but change of scene, and having had some occupation to employ her mind, had very much contributed to her greater cheerfulness, and as she knew that their rural works, would in a few weeks be chiefly over; that the olives would be gathered in the corn-fields cleared-and the time of the vintage past—she began considering what would be most likely to afford permanent employment and amusement during the winter season. She thought their old and long neglected occupation of wicker-work would most probably interest her. She immediately proposed it by turning to her, and saying, she should like to begin their basket-making again, and asked her mother if she would go with her on the morrow after the next, to cut some of the autumnal shoots of the osier. The day following was the sabbath, it was also the tenth of the month Tisri, the great day of atonement, the day on which the high priest, throwing aside his golden robes, sent away the scape-goat into the wilderness laden with all the sins of the children of Israel the day on which he afterwards resumed his priestly vestments, and was admitted within the veil into the holiest of holies. Sephora felt that this was a day much to be observed to the Lord; she kept it by fasting, in silence, solitude, and devotion. She communed with her own heart in her chamber, and was still. She sought out her spirit, and compared it with the holy law of God. Where is the heart that does not in stinctively shrink from such a scrutiny? Where is the heart that will stand before the shining of the candle of the Lord, and discover no pollution there? No crossed pride, no cankering care, no painted vanity, no gilded pomp, no tainted vice, no slanderous breath, no black ingratitude to God or man, no withering envy, no unhallowed love, no niche in which some earthly idol is enshrined, that claims the secret homage of the soul, to which the willing thoughts resort, towards which they press, and throng, and prostrate themselves, and there remaining, cleave to the sordid or the sensual lust.Where is the heart that can say, I am wholly free from all these things? Wherever it might be, Sephora felt too surely it was not with her. She compared herself with the most careless and the most sinful of her fellow-creatures, and could not tell but they might be acting more up to their ideas of what was right than she was to hers, and if so, which was the most guilty? She found no satisfaction on reflecting on her own worth, or in comparing |