So that when Simeon and his associates arrived
      on the summit of the tower called Adoni-Bezek—the loftiest of all the
      turrets around about Jerusalem, and the usual place of conference with the
      besieging army—they looked down upon the camp of the enemy from an
      eminence excelling by many feet that of the Pyramid of Cheops, and, by
      several, that of the temple of Belus. “Verily,” sighed the Pharisee, as he peered dizzily over the precipice,
      “the uncircumcised are as the sands by the seashore—as the locusts in the
      wilderness! The valley of the King hath become the valley of Adommin.”


      “And yet,” added Ben-Levi, “thou canst not point me out a Philistine—no,
      not one—from Aleph to Tau—from the wilderness to the battlements—who
      seemeth any bigger than the letter Jod!”


      “Lower away the basket with the shekels of silver!” here shouted a Roman
      soldier in a hoarse, rough voice, which appeared to issue from the regions
      of Pluto—“lower away the basket with the accursed coin which it has
      broken the jaw of a noble Roman to pronounce! Is it thus you evince your
      gratitude to our master Pompeius, who, in his condescension, has thought
      fit to listen to your idolatrous importunities? The god Phœbus, who is a
      true god, has been charioted for an hour—and were you not to be on the
      ramparts by sunrise? Ædepol! do you think that we, the conquerors of the
      world, have nothing better to do than stand waiting by the walls of every
      kennel, to traffic with the dogs of the earth? Lower away! I say—and
      see that your trumpery be bright in color and just in weight!”


      “El Elohim!” ejaculated the Pharisee, as the discordant tones of the
      centurion rattled up the crags of the precipice, and fainted away against
      the temple—“El Elohim!—who is the god Phœbus?—whom doth
      the blasphemer invoke? Thou, Buzi-Ben-Levi! who art read in the laws of
      the Gentiles, and hast sojourned among them who dabble with the Teraphim!—is
      it Nergal of whom the idolater speaketh?—or Ashimah?—or
      Nibhaz,—or Tartak?—or Adramalech?—or Anamalech?—or
      Succoth-Benith?—or Dagon?—or Belial?—or Baal-Perith?—or
      Baal-Peor?—or Baal-Zebub?”


      “Verily it is neither—but beware how thou lettest the rope slip too
      rapidly through thy fingers; for should the wicker-work chance to hang on
      the projection of yonder crag, there will be a woful outpouring of the
      holy things of the sanctuary.”


      By the assistance of some rudely constructed machinery, the heavily laden
      basket was now carefully lowered down among the multitude; and, from the
      giddy pinnacle, the Romans were seen gathering confusedly round it; but
      owing to the vast height and the prevalence of a fog, no distinct view of
      their operations could be obtained. Half an hour had already elapsed. “We shall be too late!” sighed the Pharisee, as at the expiration of this
      period he looked over into the abyss—“we shall be too late! we shall be
      turned out of office by the Katholim.”


      “No more,” responded Abel-Phittim—“no more shall we feast upon the
      fat of the land—no longer shall our beards be odorous with frankincense—our
      loins girded up with fine linen from the Temple.”


      “Raca!” swore Ben-Levi, “Raca! do they mean to defraud us of the purchase
      money? or, Holy Moses! are they weighing the shekels of the tabernacle?”


      “They have given the signal at last!” cried the Pharisee—“they
      have given the signal at last! pull away, Abel-Phittim!—and thou,
      Buzi-Ben-Levi, pull away!—for verily the Philistines have either
      still hold upon the basket, or the Lord hath softened their hearts to
      place therein a beast of good weight!” And the Gizbarim pulled away, while
      their burden swung heavily upward through the still increasing mist. *       *       *       *       *

      “Booshoh he!”—as, at the conclusion of an hour, some object at the
      extremity of the rope became indistinctly visible—“Booshoh he!” was
      the exclamation which burst from the lips of Ben-Levi. “Booshoh he!—for shame!—it is a ram from the thickets of
      Engedi, and as rugged as the valley of Jehosaphat!”


      “It is a firstling of the flock,” said Abel-Phittim, “I know him by the
      bleating of his lips, and the innocent folding of his limbs. His eyes are
      more beautiful than the jewels of the Pectoral, and his flesh is like the
      honey of Hebron.”


      “It is a fatted calf from the pastures of Bashan,” said the Pharisee, “the
      heathen have dealt wonderfully with us——let us raise up our
      voices in a psalm—let us give thanks on the shawm and on the
      psaltery—on the harp and on the huggab—on the cythern and on the sackbut!”


      It was not until the basket had arrived within a few feet of the Gizbarim
      that a low grunt betrayed to their perception a _hog_ of no common size. “Now El Emanu!” slowly and with upturned eyes ejaculated the trio, as,
      letting go their hold, the emancipated porker tumbled headlong among the
      Philistines, “El Emanu!—God be with us—it is _the unutterable
      flesh!”_




THE SPHINX


      During the dread reign of the cholera in New York, I had accepted the
      invitation of a relative to spend a fortnight with him in the retirement
      of his _cottage ornée_ on the banks of the Hudson. We had here around
      us all the ordinary means of summer amusement; and what with rambling in
      the woods, sketching, boating, fishing, bathing, music, and books, we
      should have passed the time pleasantly enough, but for the fearful
      intelligence which reached us every morning from the populous city. Not a
      day elapsed which did not bring us news of the decease of some
      acquaintance. Then as the fatality increased, we learned to expect daily
      the loss of some friend. At length we trembled at the approach of every
      messenger. The very air from the South seemed to us redolent with death. That palsying thought, indeed, took entire possession of my soul. I could
      neither speak, think, nor dream of any thing else. My host was of a less
      excitable temperament, and, although greatly depressed in spirits, exerted
      himself to sustain my own. His richly philosophical intellect was not at
      any time affected by unrealities. To the substances of terror he was
      sufficiently alive, but of its shadows he had no apprehension. His endeavors to arouse me from the condition of abnormal gloom into which
      I had fallen, were frustrated, in great measure, by certain volumes which
      I had found in his library. These were of a character to force into
      germination whatever seeds of hereditary superstition lay latent in my
      bosom.