e, September 20th, 1889.

GEORG EBERS.

JOSHUA.

CHAPTER I.

"Go down, grandfather: I will watch."

But the old man to whom the entreaty was addressed shook his shaven
head.

"Yet you can get no rest here....

"And the stars? And the tumult below? Who can think of rest in hours
like these? Throw my cloak around me! Rest--on such a night of horror!"

"You are shivering. And how your hand and the instrument are shaking."

"Then support my arm."

The youth dutifully obeyed the request; but in a short time he
exclaimed: "Vain, all is vain; star after star is shrouded by the murky
clouds. Alas, hear the wailing from the city. Ah, it rises from our own
house too. I am so anxious, grandfather, feel how my head burns! Come
down, perhaps they need help."

"Their fate is in the hands of the gods--my place is here.

"But there--there! Look northward across the lake. No, farther to the
west. They are coming from the city of the dead."

"Oh, grandfather! Father--there!" cried the youth, a grandson of
the astrologer of Amon-Ra, to whom he was lending his aid. They were
standing in the observatory of the temple of this god in Tanis, the
Pharaoh's capital in the north of the land of Goshen. He moved away,
depriving the old man of the support of his shoulder, as he continued:
"There, there! Is the sea sweeping over the land? Have the clouds
dropped on the earth to heave to and fro? Oh, grandfather, look yonder!
May the Immortals have pity on us! The under-world is yawning, and the
giant serpent Apep has come forth from the realm of the dead. It is
moving past the temple. I see, I hear it. The great Hebrew's menace is
approaching fulfilment. Our race will be effaced from the earth. The
serpent! Its head is turned toward the southeast. It will devour the sun
when it rises in the morning."

The old man's eyes followed the youth's finger, and he, too, perceived
a huge, dark mass, whose outlines blended with the dusky night, come
surging through the gloom; he, too, heard, with a thrill of terror, the
monster's loud roar.

Both stood straining their eyes and ears to pierce the darkness; but
instead of gazing upward the star-reader's eye was bent upon the city,
the distant sea, and the level plain. Deep silence, yet no peace reigned
above them: the high wind now piled the dark clouds into shapeless
masses, anon severed that grey veil and drove the torn fragments far
asunder. The moon was invi