have accompanied the traveller in thought, and, without exposing myself to his danger, have largely shared in his gratification."

"So have I," said Edwin: "I seemed to sit down with him at the top of the pyramid."

"But I," said Emma, "came down again with the military officer, for my head was dizzy."

"But who, papa," said Edwin, "built these amazing edifices? And when were they built?"

"I rather think they were built about the year of the world, 2400. They are, no doubt, of great antiquity. I am of opinion, they were built by the Israelites, when they were in Egypt, in a state of dreadful slavery."

"But, papa, why do you think the Israelites built the Pyramids? The Bible does not mention them."

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Perhaps not, expressly. But it tells us, that they built for Pharaoh 'treasure cities.' And the Septuagint, or Greek translation, tells us, that they built the city of Heliopolis, or, the City of the Sun. But Josephus expressly says, that a great part of the oppression the Israelites suffered, was occasioned by their building Pyramids *.

"And what did they build them for?"

"We are not certain, Edwin. Very likely, as monuments to perpetuate the glory and resources of the monarchs who reared them. Perhaps, also, they were raised for secure burial places. If so, as is extremely probable, this was truly, as the poet says,

'Much ado, in earthing up a carcass.'

But mighty, as in this instance, the combined effort of the creature is, the effect is nothing when contrasted with the works of the Creator. What is the mightiest pyramid which could ever be raised by human art, but as a little grain of sand, when contrasted with a planet or a sun? Do you recollect the lines of Young, which Mr. Wallace quoted the other day, when we were talking on this very subject?"

"Yes, papa, I think I do:

Virtue alone outbuilds the Pyramids :

Her monuments shall stand, when Egypt's fall.""

"Yes, the world passeth away, and the lusts thereof; but he that doeth the will of God,' as the Scripture says, ' abideth for ever.' In the emphatic language of a living writer, we indeed may say of the good man:

'When rapt in fire, the realms of ether glow,
And heaven's last thunder shakes the globe below,
He, undismay'd, shall o'er the ruin smile,
And light his torch at Nature's fun'ral pile!””

CHAP. XII.

EDWIN had called Emma early for a walk before breakfast. Mr. Howard allowed him to do so; but always charged him not to go far. He was of opinion, that early rising and a short walk were conducive to health. Long walks, and much exertion, on an empty stomach, he thought, had been greatly injurious to some of his young friends, who had expected an increase of health by taking the morning air.

In a field near Mr. Howard's, as they were returning to breakfast, Edwin suddenly exclaimed: "Oh dear, dear! here is our poor Puss. Oh dear! Who has done this?"

"Poor thing!" said Emma, "she looks as if she had been worried by dogs."

"She has, I am sure. See, how they have

torn her beautiful coat to pieces! Papa will be so sorry."

"Was he attached to her?" said Emma.

"Oh yes! She used to follow him so often about; and if he were from home, she would watch till he returned; and if it were dark when he came back, and papa could not see her, she would make known her joy by running by and around him, and by brushing his ancles. We have missed her for almost a week. Papa said, yesterday, that he was afraid some harm had befallen her."

"And so it has," said Emma. "What cruel creatures some men and boys are. I suppose they set the dogs on her. Cruel creatures!" "Papa used to say, she

had but one fault, and that was scarcely any: she would leave her white hairs on his clean black clothes, now and then, in abundance, and make it necessary for him to get them off before he could go out."

"She was very old: was she not?"

"Yes, I think so; for I used to play with her when she was a big kitten, and I was quite a little boy. Papa has often said, that she was a cat much given to contemplation. For an hour together she would sit on that thick branch of the laburnum tree, as if she quite enjoyed the prospect. I will show you some verses papa made some years ago about her. They

are in my pocket-book. I will read them to you. I think you will like them.

LINES TO PUSS.

Thy velvet coat I oft admire,

'Tis finely mark'd, and rare;
Nor beau or belle could e'er desire

A softer one to wear.

Good-humour'd, none can e'er thee tease;

Thou with thy humdrum song,
Perpetually thyself dost please,
Glad as the day is long.

And little playful Edwin, too,
May take thee on his arm;
Thou art too gen'rous far, to do
The prattler any harm.

And I have mark'd thee many a time
(Sure few such cats are found)
Up the laburnum gently climb,
To view the country round.

Thou, too, art useful: search the house,
Thy ample, large domain,
And not a rat, or e'en a mouse,
Disturbs thy tranquil reign.

Another virtue too in thee,

For which we grateful feel,
And with no common pleasure sée,
Is, thou'rt not giv'n to steal.