In a general way he is called "the establisher of heaven and earth," "the judge of heaven and earth," "the warrior of the world," and "the regent of all things," while, with direct reference to his physical nature, he is "the lord of fire," "the light of the gods," "the ruler of the day" and "he who illumines the expanse of heaven and earth." The kings regard him as affording them especial help in war. He is "the supreme ruler, who casts a favourable eye on expeditions," the "vanquisher of the king's enemies," "the breaker-up of opposition." He "casts his motive influence over the monarchs, and causes them to "assemble their chariots and their warriors," he "goes forth with their armies," and enables them to extend their dominions, he chases their enemies before them, causes opposition to cease, and brings them back with victory to their own country. Besides this, in time of peace, he helps them to sway the sceptre of power, and to rule over their subjects with authority. It seems that, from observing the manifest agency of the material sun in stimulating all the functions of nature, the Assyrians and Babylonians came to the conclusion that the sun-god exerted a similar influence over the minds of men, and was the great motive agent in human history.*

The worship of Shamas was universal. The seventh month, Tisri, was dedicated to him, and in the second Elul, he had, like the moon-god, nine festivals. His emblem appears upon almost all the religious cylinders, and in almost all lists of the gods his name holds a high place. Sometimes he is a member of a leading triad, composed of himself together with Sin and Asshur.† In the mythological legends he is not very frequently mentioned. We find him, however, defending the moon-god, in conjunction with Vul, when the seven spirits make their assault upon heaven ; and in the deluge tablets we are told that it was he who actually made the Floods But otherwise the mythology is silent about him, offering in this respect a remarkable contrast to the Egyptian, where the sun is the principal figure.

Vul, the god of the atmosphere, who completes the second triad, has, on the whole, a position quite equal to that of Sin and Shamas, whom he occasionally even precedes in the lists. Some kings seem to place him on a par with Anu, or with Asshur, recognising Anu and Vul, or Asshur and Vul, as especially "the great gods," and as their own peculiar guardians. In a general way he corresponds with the "Jupiter Tonans" of the Romans, being the "Prince of the power of the air," the lord of the whirlwind and the tempest, and the wielder of the thunderbolt. His most common titles are "the minister of heaven and earth," "the Lord of the air," and "he who makes the tempest to rage." He is regarded as the destroyer of crops, the rooterup of trees, the scatterer of the harvest; famine, scarcity, and even their consequence, pestilence, are assigned to him. He is said to have in his hand

a "flaming sword," with which he effects his ravages, and this "flaming sword," which probably represents lightning, seems to form his emblem on the tablets and cylinders, where it is figured as a double or triple bolt. But Vul has also a softer character; as the god of the atmosphere he gives the rain; and hence he is "the careful and beneficent chief," "the giver of abundance," and "the lord of fecundity." In this capacity, he is naturally chosen to preside over canals, the great fertilisers in Mesopotamia; and thus we find among his titles "the lord of canals,' and "the establisher of works of irrigation."

YUL

To the eight "great gods," whose functions have been here described, may be added most conveniently in this place, six goddesses. It was a general, though not a universal rule, in the Assyrian and Babylonian mythology, that each god should have a wife. From this law the heads of the respective pantheons, Il and Asshur were exempt, but otherwise almost all the principal deities are united in pairs, one of whom is male and the other female. Anu has a wife called Anata or Anat, who is a pale and shadowy personage, the mere faint reflex of her husband, whose name she receives, merely modified by a feminine inflection. Bil or Bel has a wife, Bilat, known to the classical writers as Beltis or Mylitta,‡ a term standing to Bil as Anat to Anu, but designating a far more substantial being. Beltis is "the mother of the gods," "the great goddess," "the great lady," "the queen of the lands," and "the queen of fecundity." She corresponds to the Cybele of the Phrygians, the Rhea of the Greeks, and the " Magna Mater" or "Bona Dea" of the Romans. Occasionally, she adds to this character the attributes of Bellona and even Diana, being spoken of as presiding over war and hunting. The wife of Hoa has been called Dav-kina; but the first element of the name seems now to be read more generally as Nin, while the second is rendered by azu.§ Nin-azu is said to have been "queen of Hades" and "the lady of the house of Death:"| Her special office was to watch and soothe the last hours of the dying. To the wife of Sin no proper name is given; but she is frequently associated with her husband under the appellation of "the great lady." The wife of Shamas is Gula or Anunit, who was, like Beltis, a "great goddess," but had a less distinctive character, being little more than a female Sun. Finally, Vul had a wife called Shala or Tala, whose common title is sarrat, "Queen," but who is a colourless and insignificant personage.

* "Ancient Monarchies," vol. i. pp. 164–5.

In one place I observe a mention of a "goddess Assuritu” ("Records," vol. i. p. 60), who might seem to be a feminine form of Asshur. But the original reads" Asshur va Ishtar Assuritu," which shows Assuritu to be a mere title of Ishtar. (See G. Smith's "Annals of Asshurbanipal," p. 17.)

Herod. i. 131, 199; Hesychius ad voc. Bhλons. "Records of the Past," vol. ix. pp. 131-2. Professor Sayce reads the name as Ninkigal (ibid. p. 146).

See Professor Sayce's note on the passage last quoted.
"Records," vol. v. p. 146. Compare vol. iii. p. 141.

Pages for the Young.

LILY DOYLE.

I.-SCHOOL-GIRL FRIENDSHIP.

CHOOL-GIRLS are quite famous for the strength of their friendships for each other, but, certainly, there were never two more deserving of the fame than Lily Doyle and Florence Kneller. Whatever one did the other must do. They even carried their affection to such an extent that no amount of reasoning, persuasion, or scolding ever could induce either to appear perfect in a lesson that the other had failed to get through correctly, or to obtain good marks in cases where the other gained none, or indifferent ones. Happily Florence was a thoughtful, clever, and good girl, so her influence told very well on her more volatile companion.

Thus matters continued throughout two terms. On the second day of their third term at school Miss Wilton, the principal, called Florence and Lily to her to tell them that they were about to have another companion in their bedroom. "Katherine Grinfell is of nearly the same age, and comes from the same neighbourhood, so I thought it might prove a pleasant arrangement. I hope, however, even if it do not, that you will try to show kindness to the new-comer," said Miss Wilton, looking more particularly at Lily Doyle, upon whose face was a rather discontented frown. "I fancy her life, hitherto, has not had much sunshine in it. She is an orphan." "I know I shall dislike her, whatever she is," exclaimed Lily as soon as Miss Wilton was out of hearing. "She'll just spoil every bit of our comfort."

"Poor girl, I am afraid she will spoil some of it," said Florence with a mixture of selfish and unselfish pity. "And I don't know how we can show kindness to her; it is so dreadful to have to speak to strangers."

"I don't know so much about that," laughed Lily, a little scornfully, who had never known what it was to be nervous or frightened in her life. "I do really believe, Flo, that you would be too shy to speak to a baby or a kitten the first time you saw them.”

Flo's gentle fair face flushed, but the class-bell ringing at the moment she was spared the difficulty of any other

answer.

"Good-night, girls," said Miss Wilton, looking into one of the rooms a little after nine o'clock the same day. She sighed and smiled as she closed the door behind her again. There seemed little prospect at present of the twin friendship being | merged in a trio. Florence and Lily stood together at the toilet-table, the latter brushing out her friend's golden curls, while, at the other end of the room, in comparative obscurity, stood the stranger, struggling to unfasten her frock, which was made, like most of her clothes, after an old-fashioned pattern, and hooked at the back. But Miss Wilton knew girl-nature well enough not to despair for the future.

Florence's hair was put up for the night, but she and Lily were still standing together, engaged in an eager whispered Conversation, when a weary, disconsolate sigh from their forgotten companion startled them both. Florence looked towards her in pained embarrassment, but Lily, who was really at heart kind and good-natured, and at the same time fond of the importance to be gained by helping others, immediately ran across the room to her, saying, "I expect the tapes have got knotted; will you let me untie them for

you?"

95 "Thank you," said a grave, rather unchildlike voice; and for the first time since her arrival, curiosity and a little charitable pity led Lily to look at her new schoolfellow's face. As she moved round to untie the strings, she felt almost friendly to the involuntary intruder, "for,” she reflected in her mind, "there is no fear of Flo ever getting to like her better than me. She is not half so pretty for one thing. And then Flo often says she likes me partly because I always look so bright and merry, and I'm sure, of all dismally solemn, serious faces I ever saw Miss Grinfell's is the worst. The girls are sure to call her 'Grin,' just because she looks so grave."

These reflections were so soothing to Lily's feelings of irritation that, when the stranger was about to get into bed, she said kindly, "You look so tired; I hope you won't try to wake to-morrow for fear of being late, for I will be sure to call you in time to get down to prayers."

Another very quiet "Thank you, but I am accustomed to have to get up early," was all the spoken answer; but a look of astonished gratitude in the speaker's eyes more than repaid Lily for her rather patronising goodnature. While shyness and natural reserve held back the tender and gentle-natured Florence Kneller from showing the kindness that, as the days passed on, began to grow up in her heart for the equally reserved and patient sad-faced Katie Grinfell, Lily Doyle with her bustling merriment, frank good-temper, and readiness to oblige, had long forgotten her determination to hate the interloper. She had pushed through all Katie's quiet reserve and dignity of isolation, and in no great time had forced from her a species of admiring worship for her quickness and vivacity, and power to aid in all sorts of troubles and difficulties.

"I always thought before that you were the best and kindest girl I ever knew, Flo," exclaimed Lily one afternoon, quite excitedly; "but really I begin to think you can be hard like other people."

"Hard!" echoed gentle Flo in pained surprise. "How have I been hard, Lil?”

"Why, you are very hard to poor Katie Grinfell, I am sure; I found her crying just now, and when I asked her what was the matter, she said it was because she could not bear to see that you always avoided her. I told her it was only because you were shy, but she said if you did not dislike her you would have got over your shyness as you have done with me."

The result of this little conversation was a desperate, even prayerful, effort on the part of tender-hearted, timid-natured Florence Kneller to conquer her unreasoning fear of new companionships. Besides, she reflected, Lily was always praising Katie, and she herself had noticed night after night, and morning after morning, the earnest trustful face that so eagerly studied the little old red morocco Bible; and then Katie was always so good to the two little Indian-born children, the youngest pupils in the school, whose weak, irritable natures earned little forbearance from most of the other girls.

In a few days Lily once more took upon herself to remonstrate with her friend, but this time it was not to plead for Katie, but to remark that she really did not see there was any necessity to ask that dull Katie Grinfell to join them every day when they went out, and always to drag her into every conversation. Poor Florence! She had allowed her actions to be directed by Lily, so she thought, and now that she was beginning to be pleased that she had done so, and to feel comfortable under the new state of things, here was Lily absolutely showing jealousy! Florence was not strong-minded enough to remonstrate in her turn, or try to reason her out of the unworthy feeling, so that once more poor Katie was left rather out in the cold. Then Lily grew a little ashamed of herself, and, as breaking-up time was near, she argued in her own inconsistent little mind that, after all, it did not much matter how friendly her two friends became. So it came to pass that the three room companions were nearly always together during the twilight recreation hours of December, no little to the relief of the kindly, sympathetic Miss Wilton.

II. HOLIDAY HOPES.

They all lived in the same town, as has been already said, so it is not surprising that they had a common interest in talking over the hoped-for pleasures of the coming holidays. How bright and bonny the faces of the three young girls looked as they sat in the window-seat of the smaller class-room in the old schoolhouse. They had been looking over the lessons of the past term together, for to-morrow was the first examination day; and in another week they hoped to be on their road to their respective homes.

"I feel almost sorry at the thought sometimes," said Lily, drawing her arm yet closer round Florence; "for at the very best I can only have you a bit of every day at Shampton, and here I have you always, and all day long."

Florence Kneller smiled as she replied gently, "I am not worthy of so much love, Lily dear; and besides, when you are at home you won't want me so much. You will have your brothers."

"As if that will make any difference in my wishing for you! Of course I love them very much, and all that, and they are dear, good fellows; but then brothers and teazes always are one and the same thing, you know."

"Are they?" asked Katie Grinfell with a half sigh, "I wish I had one to try. I don't think I should much mind if he did teaze." Tears stood in the girl's dark-blue eyes as she ceased speaking, and the others, in impulsive girl fashion, came to the rescue from sad thoughts by throwing their arms round her, and covering her face with kisses.

Eager Lily exclaimed, "I'll tell you what, Katie; I'll get mamma to ask leave of your aunt for me and Flo to come and take you out with us for a walk every day, for you know I love you quite next best to Florence," and she added, with sudden generosity, "Yes, and I know she likes you next best to me. Oh, dear, there's the lesson-bell! I'm sure we have not had our full half-hour after dinner to-day. If it had not been raining, and we had been out for a horrid walk, we should have had more time given us than we wanted. Miss Wilton always cuts us off short when we are having a comfortable talk. I'm sure she is afraid of our hatching treason of some sort, grumbling about the dinners, or something."

"Hush, Lily, nonsense. Besides, see how unjust you are. Look at the clock," said her quieter friend, pointing to the timepiece, which showed that they had been allowed ten minutes more than usual, instead of less.

In examinations and packing, the week passed by quickly enough, all too quickly poor Katie Grinfell thought. For if it was hard for Lily Doyle to look forward to partial separation from her friend, what must it have been to Katie? She knew she had nothing to expect in exchange for the bright activity of school-life, and the pleasant companionship of the two kind-hearted girls, but drearily same and quiet days passed with an old invalid aunt, who certainly had been young once, but who had passed through so many years of sorrow and suffering that she had forgotten the possibility of her young niece caring for a more joyous existence than she provided her. Meanwhile Florence Kneller lost no opportunity of reminding her of Lily's promise about the walks.

"And perhaps mamma will let you come and spend the day with me, sometimes, if your aunt does not mind," said the gentle girl kindly, as the three sat together the last night of the school term.

Katie's eyes grew bright through her tears at the mere thought of becoming a visitor at a home that was noted for its cheerful happiness. But the expression on Lily's face was anything but pleasant. It was all very well for her to propose letting Katie Grinfell join her and Flo in their walks, but for Flo, her own especial friend, to talk of getting invitations for some one else, when she had not till yesterday offered one to her, was too bad-at least so hasty Lily decided; and she allowed her jealousy to grow again.

BIBLE QUESTIONS.

NO. II.-ON THE LIFE AND TIMES OF JOSHUA.

1. When Moses knew that the time was near when the children of Israel would be left without his guidance, how did he show his love and care for them?

2. How was his prayer answered?

3. How was Joshua formally set apart for his work? How was he fitted for it?

4. Mention any passages in which Moses refers to this-in order to prepare the people to give due honour to his successor. 5. The position to which Joshua was thus called was one of great honour, but also of great difficulty. Had Moses found it so? How had he been strengthened through his long course? 6. At last the honoured leader dies, and the new captain takes the command. But he is yet comparatively young and inexperienced, and the multitude have always been rebellious, and many difficulties have to be encountered in their future course. By what two thoughts did God graciously encourage his servant?

7. God's command; God's presence. Show that these two thoughts have proved the strength and comfort of other servants of God when called to difficult duty.

8. "I will never leave thee." Is that a promise to God's people still? Prove it. How should it influence them?

9. How were the minds of the people disposed towards their new commander?

10. What were his first orders?

11. What preparation did he make to ascertain the position and condition of the first city which they must attack?

12. What adventures did the spies meet with? How were their lives saved?

13. What motive actuated their deliverer? Prove this from

the Old and New Testaments. How was she rewarded?

14. What honour was put upon this woman? Mention any other Gentile woman who received a similar honour.

15. What report did the spies bring? On what did they ground their report? Show that this had been foretold.

ANSWERS TO BIBLE QUESTION.
NO. 1. p. 48.

1. Oshea, Num. xiii. 8. Jehoshua, Num. xiii. 16. 1 Chron. vii. 27. Joshua, Ex. xvii. 9. Jeshua, Nehemiah vii. 7. Jesus, Acts vii. 45. Heb. iv. 8.

2. His father's name was Nun. He was a "ruler" of the tribe of Ephraim, Num. xiii. 2, 1 Chron. vii. 27.

3. Compare Josh. xiv. 10, which shows that he was born about the time when Moses fled to Midian.

4. He was Moses' servant, Num. xi. 28, Deut. i. 38. 5. Ex. xvii. 8-13. He led the people in their fight with Amalek, their first great battle, and he was victorious. The secret of his success is told us in verses 11, 12.

6. Exodus xxiv. 13. He seems to have accompanied Moses part of the way. He had evidently been absent from the camp, since he knew nothing of the golden calf and imagined the shoutings were those of people engaged in war, ch. xxxii. 17. 7. See Ex. xxxii. 19, 20, 27-29, and 30-32. xxxiii. 12—17. 8. Num. xi. 28, 29.

9. See Luke ix. 49, 50. Phil. i. 18. Acts xi. 20–24. 10. Num. xiii. 8.

11. Num. xiv. 6-9. If we look at verse 11, and at Heb. iii. 16, 18, 19, we shall see that their conduct was the fruit of faith ; the others failed through unbelief.

66

At length the day came when she must go; her own tattered clothing was brought to her, made to look as clean and respectable as it could be, and she dressed herself in it silently, hating the very sight and touch of these rags, which seemed a badge of her utter poverty and friendlessness. What could there be before her but to wander about the streets, hiding her head anywhere she could for a shelter, and dying in some hole at last, uncared for and unknown? A fitting end for one like her, she said to herself.

"Abbott left a message for you yesterday," said the nurse to her, when she was ready to go, "if you've nowhere else you want to go to, we're to send you in a cab to the house where he lives, and he'll be at home to-night. His cousin, who is a dressmaker, lives at the same place, and will be there to take you in."

Hagar lifted up her drooping head, and the almost sullen gloom of her face brightened a little. Abbott's messages to her had been the only link between her and the outer world, and had brought the only gleam of hope to her dark mind. She had seen him once, and his face had been the face of a friend. He had told her, too, that the same coffin held his mother and her baby; and it seemed as if this formed some kind of kinship between them.

Very bitterly and sadly she looked out on the busy streets as she drove through them in the cab, until the high naked branches of the trees in Kensington Gardens came into sight, and there rushed upon her more keenly than ever the recollection of that dreadful day in November. She would have given the world to bring that time back again, and meet once more the trouble and the difficulty from which she had fled then. She knew now that it would have been better to have suffered death than to have fled from her duty. It was cowardly and cruel to forsake those two helpless creatures, so closely bound to her. God had bound them to her; she had received life from one, and given life to the other. Yet she had forsaken them, and what could she answer when she was called to judgment, and God asked her what had become of them?

She had not recovered from the terror of her own thoughts when she reached the house where Abbott lived. His cousin the dressmaker was expecting her, and received her with a pleasant heartiness, as if she were some welcome visitor. She led her up to a little room in the attic, where a fire was burning brightly in a tiny grate, and tea was laid out on a little spindle-legged table, beside which stood a comfortable, warmly-padded, oldfashioned chair for her to rest in. There was a wide and cheerful view from the high window, looking over a few roofs across to green fields, and a sky-line broken by trees to the west. Hagar had seldom looked out on so great a space of sky, already flecked with early sunset clouds, and she stood at

'I have no time to spare," she said kindly, "or I would stay while you get your tea; but my cousin Abbott asked me to make you welcome. He has told me all he knows about you, and I'm sure you'll find him and me ready to be your friends. I laid that little baby of yours beside my good old cousin in her coffin; and, my dear, my heart bleeds for you. There now! Don't you cry; come and take your tea while it's hot and refreshing."

Hagar could not speak for weeping. This was so like coming home, and yet it was not coming home! Abbott knew nothing about her, and her great sin, and when he did would not he, and this good, kindly woman shrink with horror from her? A true, strong, good man like him could never understand her despair, or forgive her for yielding to it. And, oh! where were they now, her father and little Dot? Whilst she was surrounded with all this comfort and kindness, perhaps they were starving with cold and hunger, if they were not already at rest in their graves. The comfort was unbearable to her; she fancied she would have been almost happier wandering footsore and hungry about the streets. The first time she saw Abbott she must tell him all, and bear any consequences that might arise from her confession.

Abbott came up to see her that evening. As soon as she heard his tap at the door, she rose and stood trembling before him in her poor tattered clothing, and with her white and sickly face meeting him with a look of trouble and affright. He had only seen her once before, for after he had thrown her back by his conversation, he had not been admitted to visit her a second time at the hospital. He had never beheld a more pitiable creature, for her long illness and the great anguish of her soul had marked her face with an expression of profound suffering.

"Sit down," he said gently; "you're not fit to be standing."

"I've something to say to you," she stammered; "something I ought to tell you, for I don't deserve what you are doing for me.

"Let us sit down and talk it over," he answered, drawing the only other chair to the opposite side of the narrow hearth. "Tell me anything you wish.”

"I was very miserable," said Hagar, clenching her thin hands together, "and I lost all heart. My husband was dead, and there was my blind father, and my two little children, all looking to me for everything. I'd done the best I could, but I couldn't get a living for us all; and my poor father would never hear a word of going into the workhouse. We'd seen better days, you know, and he couldn't bring his mind to it-no, if we were all starved to death. He kept on saying he'd die like a dog first, and so I grew quite desperate."

"Did you ask God to help you? Did you try to cast your cares upon Him?" said Abbott, as she paused, afraid and ashamed of saying more.

"I

"I never thought of Him," she answered. never thought of Him when we were well off and happy, and it's hard to remember Him when you haven't a morsel, and two little children and an old man all crying to you from hunger. I'd forgotten God, and He forgot me. If He hadn't forsaken me then, He must have forsaken me now."