While the legislator of Israel owed so much to the fostering care of the daughter of Pharaoh in preparing him for his high destination, we cannot but feel a deep interest in her who so unconsciously contributed toward an influence and prepared an instrumentality quite adverse to the apparent interests of her people.  We cannot but hope that, while she thus hastened the accomplishment of promise and prediction, she was herself led to the knowledge and worship of Israel’s God.

Might not one who thus adopted the brother, encircle in her affection the sister whose affectionate entreaty gave the babe a mother for its nurse?  The fraternal affection which marks the family seems to indicate more than occasional intercourse.  Between Miriam and her brother there was that sympathy which always results from an intimate association.  The princess of Egypt may have imparted to Miriam many of the accomplishments of the courtly circle, for we find that she was skilled in music, that she led the dance; while, in return, Miriam may have imparted that higher knowledge and those deep truths of which her people were the appointed conservators, and the daughter of Pharaoh may have tasted the blessings which were held in trust for future ages.

Miriam was the only sister of Moses, and she first appears as watching the fate of that child in whose destiny all the ages and all the nations of earth were to have an interest.  The tender care which watched the cradle on the Nile continued through life, and from the day Moses was saved, down to the day when Miriam died in the wilderness, she seems ever associated with her brothers in all their efforts and designs.  The influence of the sister is peculiarly her own.  It is felt in early life in its softening, refining, and purifying tendency—­in diverting opening manhood from rude sports or gross pursuits to the enjoyments of a more elevated and pure nature, and shedding a charm around the pleasures of home; while, if no other ties intervene, the bonds of affection grow stronger with each successive year.

We cannot trace the course of Miriam’s life.  She appears before us for a season and then we lose sight of her for many years.  She may have passed them in the retirement and obscurity of her rural home in the land of Goshen.  She may have been counted in the train of the princess of Egypt and shone in the court of Pharaoh.  Princes may have flattered her and nobles sued for her love.  She seems never to have married,—­yet her heart may have had its own history of love, perhaps unrequited, disappointed, or sacrificed at the altar of prudence, of conscience, or, it may be, ambition.  Oh what a tale of suffering and of enjoyment would the history of one human heart present, if faithfully recorded!

Years had passed:  childhood was gone—­youth was fleeing.  The brother had attained a high distinction in the court of Egypt.  He had tasted the pleasures of wisdom and the enjoyments of science and knowledge, while, as the adopted child of Pharaoh’s daughter, he stood before the people, the prospective heir to the crown.