it not be
well to summon them, that they may hear the father's instructions, and
join in the song which we shall all sing as we draw near to Shiloh?"
Cruel words! and they do their work. Like barbed arrows, they stick fast
in the sore heart of this injured one. Her head sinks, but she utters no
reply. She only draws nearer to her husband, and walks more closely in
his footsteps.

* * * * *

The night has passed, and a cloudless sun looks down on the assembled
thousands of Israel. Elkanah has presented his offering at the
Tabernacle, and has now gathered his family to the feast in the tent. As
is his wont, he gives to each a portion, and hilarity presides at the
board. The animated scene around them--the white tents stretching as far
as the eye can reach--the sound of innumerable voices--the meeting with
friends--all conspire to make every heart overflow, and the well-spread
table invites to new expressions of satisfaction and delight. But here,
also, as on the journey, one heart is sad. At Elkanah's right hand sits
Hannah, her plate filled by the hand of love with "a worthy portion;"
but it stands untasted before her. Her husband is troubled. He has
watched her struggles for self-control, and seen her vain endeavors to
eat and be happy like those around her; and, divining in part the cause
of her sorrow, he tenderly strives to comfort her. "Hannah, why weepest
thou? and why eatest thou not? and why is thy heart grieved? Am I not
better to thee than ten sons?" That voice of sympathy and compassion is
too much. She rises and leaves the tent to calm in solitude, as best she
may, her bosom's strife. Why must she be thus afflicted? Severe, indeed,
and bitter are the elements which are mingled in her cup. Jehovah has
judged her. She has been taught to believe that those who are childless
are so because of His just displeasure. Her fellow-creatures also
despise her; her neighbors look suspiciously upon her. Wherefore should
it be thus? She wanders slowly, and with breaking heart, towards the
Tabernacle. The aged Eli sits by one of the posts of the door as she
enters the sacred inclosure, but she heeds him not. She withdraws to a
quiet spot, and finds at last a refuge. She kneels, and the long pent-up
sorrow has now its way; she "pours out her soul before the Lord." Happy,
though sorrowful, Hannah! She has learned one lesson of which the
prosperous know nothing; she has learned to confide in her