I sold all the furniture with which I had supplied my rooms, and again rushed to the gaming table. The fickle goddess had forever deserted me, and, lost to all sense of shame, I hung around the table, a silent spectator of the deep, passionate, and thrilling drama.

About a week after Scipio's departure, a gentleman accosted me at the table, and delivered a letter which he informed me he had brought from Liverpool. It was written in the sententious style of a merchant, and enclosed a draft in my favor on an eminent banker for fifty pounds.

The writer informed me that Scipio had sold himself for this sum to a Liverpool trader—that he had requested that the money should be sent to me, and that on the day after the purchase he had shipped the servant, with his own free consent, to the West Indies.

I waited on the banker, received the sacrifice of my slave's short-lived freedom; and as I looked on the tear-stained money, I learned from that generous and affectionate fidelity, a lesson which made me loathe with horror the moral prostitution of the gaming table.

THE PATRIARCH'S INHERITANCE.

The following is an extract from an unfinished MS. and occurs at the close of an interview between the Almighty and Abraham, in the course of which is introduced the promise thus stated in Genesis: "And the Lord said unto Abram, after that Lot was separated from him, Lift up now thine eyes, and look from the place where thou art, northward, and southward, and eastward, and westward: For all the land which thou seest, to thee will I give it, and to thy seed forever," &c.

———This pronounced,
The Radiant Form withdraws. And now return
Sunshine and shade, and cool, delicious airs,
Restoring common joys. The saintly chief,
Reviving, stands erect; and still his robes,
With lingering glory, make the moon-beams pale.
Soon all his senses feel the flowing soul,
Quick with new life and thrilling power intense.
His eyes, undazzled, drink the pouring sun,
And sweep entranced the swelling scene below—
Mountains, and hills, and plains, and lakes, and streams.
O, blest, enchanting vision! All around,
Enrich'd with purest green, and all remote
Adorn'd with deepest blue; the bending sky
And farthest summits mingling fainter hues,
Walling the world with sapphire. All he sees,
He hails his own; and burns with lordly flame.
His the down-rushing torrents; his the brooks,
Flashing from every vale; and his the lakes,
Wide sparkling bright, as though a shower of gems
On silver falling scattered countless lights.
His too the rolling woods, the laughing meads,
And rocks of waving grapes—his every wind,
Stirring the world with life and breathing far
Fragrance and music—his the silent cloud,
That fleetly glides along the soft mid-air,
Reflecting, moon-like, from its upper plain
Of snowy beauty, every ray from heaven;
And o'er the under landscape leading on
Its shadowy darkness, running up and down
The ever-changing mountains. Who may tell
The many sources of his gushing joy?
Not only Jordan, and its palmy plains;
Lot's Citied Garden; and the orient heights
Of fruitful Gilead, sweeping to the marge
Of Bashan's mellow pastures: not alone
The visual charms delight his ardent soul,
Around, though fair, and fairer still remote;
But wider regions—lost in distant haze,
Or shut from sight by intercepting bounds—
Fairest of all. Far flies his circling thought
From Edom's southern plains to Hermon's brow,
Frost-wreath'd, and lowlands steep'd in streaming dew;
And on to snow-crown'd Lebanon, with slopes
Of fadeless verdure nursed by living founts,
And glorious cedars swayed by balmy winds,
In whose high boughs the eagle builds her nest,
And on whose roots the fearful lion sleeps;
And thence to Tabor's central cone, and fields
Of Eden, like Esdrelon; and the oaks
Of flowery Carmel, waving o'er the sea;
And Sharon's rosy bloom; and Eshcol's vale,
Purple with vines from Hebron to the coast.
O'er all the range his ravished mind expands,
Warm with high hopes of wondrous days to come.
The promise—like a meteor—how it lights
The gloom of future ages! Lonely there
The childless stranger stands—sublime in faith:
Sure that the ten throned nations reigning round,
In stately power, with pomp of idol shrines,
Shall yield to his descendants; shall behold
His mightier seed—thick as the seashore sands—
Countless as stars that crowd the clearest sky,—
Pouring their myriads over hill and dale,
Casting the champion pride of princes down,
Dashing the templed monsters in the dust,
Sounding the trump of triumph through the land,
Thronging the scene with holier, happier homes,
And rearing high, to flame with heavenly fire,
Earth's only altars to the Only God!

T. H. S.