fensive blood. Oh, let us beware, my brethren, of thus paltering with the conscience, deceiving our own selves. The

eye of God searcheth out the matter, and his determinations are not regulated by deeds alone; he writeth the counsels of the heart in his divine judiciary-to do, and to cause to be done, are the same; and St. John hath told us, that in the cognizance of the Judge eternal, he that hateth his brother is a murderer; and, if we may judge from the brethren of Joseph, he that envieth his brother will soon hate him.

Having resolved on this iniquitous design, they cast him into the pit, and then, without any repugnance-without any feeling of remorse, they sat down as usual to eat bread. In the meanwhile, a company of Ishmaelitish merchantmen, returning from Gilead, whither they had been to purchase spices and perfumes, came in sight. In a moment, covetousness, that vampire of every vir

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tue, and every obligation, put it into the heart of Judah, to make a gain of his devoted brother, and Judah said unto his brethren, what profit is it, if we slay our brother, come let us sell him to the Ishmaelites; and then, to make a virtue of what his sordid heart had devised, he urges a reason he never cared for until it served his interest and convenienceand let not our hand be upon him, for he is our brother; and his brethren were content. Thus resolved, the price is soon agreed upon-a few pieces of silver are paid-and Joseph, the fond, the affectionate, the beloved son of Israel, is delivered into the hands of strangers, to be removed far from the caresses and indulgences of his father, and condemned to the toils and hardships of a bond-slave.

Had Reuben still been present, he might have again rescued his persecuted brother, and saved him from such an ignominious lot; but it appears some occasion had at this time separated him

from the rest of his brethren, and taking advantage of his absence they concluded their wretched bargain. As soon as a favorable opportunity offered, Reuben returned to the pit, to rescue the devoted Joseph, and behold he was not in the pit; and he rent his clothes, and returned to his brethren, and said, the CHILD IS NOT, and I, whither shall I go? Throughout this transaction, there is an air of sincerity and brotherly regard in the conduct of Reuben that removes from the mind all imputation of blame; the anx iety he at first exhibits for his brother's life, the stratagem to which he has re course for his preservation, and the anguish he expresses at not finding him in the pit, all combine to excite our admiration, and engage our love. The child is not, and I, whither shall I go? But this lamentation and bitter mourning no way affects the depraved minds of his brethren; we hear of no sympathy, no condolence, no compunction.

Pretending to be ignorant of the matter, their only care is to escape detection, and to evade the inquiries of the bereaved father. One crime is the stepping stone to a second; they who can perpetrate a murder, will not hesitate to utter falsehood; they who could consent to the death of an innocent brother, will not scruple to deceive a parent. There is a meanness and servility in vice, which is only to be outdone by its shamelessness; no artifice is too contemptible to be practised by the hand of treachery. Accordingly, we see these unnatural men having recourse to the wretched subterfuge of dipping their brother's well-known coat into the blood of a kid, which they killed for that purpose; and then, with the unblushing forehead of hardened crime, taking it to their father, with an open and unfeeling lie, this have we found, know now whether it be thy son's coat or no? The scheme answered their wishes-the venerable

father immediately recognized the torn and bloody coat, and, overcome by the sight, burst into a paroxysm of griefIt is my son's coat; an evil beast hath devoured him; Joseph is without doubt rent in pieces; and Jacob rent his clothes, and put on sackcloth, and mourned for his son many days. And, Oh! where is the bosom so cold and desolate that would not share the sorrow of such a father? Where is the stony heart that would not melt at the sight of the good old man, as he wept sore and would not be comforted? But who endeavoured to assuage his grief? miserable comforters were they all! and here, in a moment, our pity changes into indignation. It is observable that vice gradually destroys all traces of tender feeling in the heart, curdles the "milk of human kindness" into the gall of bitterness, and heightens the wrath of man into the ferocity of an evil beast! And here it is displayed, by these unnatural children, who cared not