also he becomes the truly worthy progenitor of the people of Israel, and a model for his descendants.  Laban and his household remark the result, if not the stratagem.  Vexation ensues:  Jacob flees with his family and goods, and partly by fortune, partly by cunning, escapes the pursuit of Laban.  Rachel is now about to present him another son, but dies in the travail; Benjamin, the child of sorrow, survives her; but the aged father is to experience a still greater sorrow from the apparent loss of his son Joseph.

Perhaps some one may ask why I have so circumstantially narrated histories so universally known, and so often repeated and explained.  Let the inquirer be satisfied with the answer, that I could in no other way exhibit how, with my life full of diversion, and with my desultory education, I concentrated my mind and feelings in quiet action on one point; that I was able in no other way to depict the peace that prevailed about me, even when all without was so wild and strange.  When an ever busy imagination, of which that tale may bear witness, led me hither and thither; when the medley of fable and history, mythology and religion, threatened to bewilder me,—­I liked to take refuge in those Oriental regions, to plunge into the first books of Moses, and to find myself there, amid the scattered shepherd-tribes, at the same time in the greatest solitude and the greatest society.

These family scenes, before they were to lose themselves in a history of the Jewish nation, show us now, in conclusion, a form by which the hopes and fancies of the young in particular are agreeably excited,—­Joseph, the child of the most passionate wedded love.  He seems to us tranquil and clear, and predicts to himself the advantages which are to elevate him above his family.  Cast into misfortune by his brothers, he remains steadfast and upright in slavery, resists the most dangerous temptations, rescues himself by prophecy, and is elevated according to his deserts to high honors.  He shows himself first serviceable and useful to a great kingdom, then to his own kindred.  He is like his ancestor Abraham in repose and greatness, his grandfather Isaac in silence and devotedness.  The talent for traffic, inherited from his father, he exercises on a large scale.  It is no longer flocks which are gained for himself from a father-in-law, but nations, with all their possessions, which he knows how to purchase for a king.  Extremely graceful is this natural story, only it appears too short; and one feels called upon to paint it in detail.

Such a filling-up of biblical characters and events given only in outline, was no longer strange to the Germans.  The personages of both the Old and New Testaments had received through Klopstock a tender and affectionate nature, highly pleasing to the boy, as well as to many of his contemporaries.  Of Bodmer’s efforts in this line, little or nothing came to him; but “Daniel in the Lion’s Den,” by Moser, made a great impression on the