sons by different mothers, cannot possibly agree.  The party less favored by law, usage, and opinion must yield.  Abraham must sacrifice his attachment to Hagar and Ishmael.  Both are dismissed; and Hagar is compelled now, against her will, to go upon a road which she once took in voluntary flight, at first, it seems, to the destruction of herself and child; but the angel of the Lord, who had before sent her back, now rescues her again, that Ishmael also may become a great people, and that the most improbable of all promises may be fulfilled beyond its limits.

Two parents in advanced years, and one son of their old age—­here, at last, one might expect domestic quiet and earthly happiness.  By no means.  Heaven is yet preparing the heaviest trial for the patriarch.  But of this we cannot speak without premising several considerations.

If a natural universal religion was to arise, and a special revealed one to be developed from it, the countries in which our imagination has hitherto lingered, the mode of life, the race of men, were the fittest for the purpose.  At least, we do not find in the whole world any thing equally favorable and encouraging.  Even to natural religion, if we assume that it arose earlier in the human mind, there pertains much of delicacy of sentiment; for it rests upon the conviction of an universal providence, which conducts the order of the world as a whole.  A particular religion, revealed by Heaven to this or that people, carries with it the belief in a special providence, which the Divine Being vouchsafes to certain favored men, families, races, and people.  This faith seems to develop itself with difficulty from man’s inward nature.  It requires tradition, usage, and the warrant of a primitive time.

Beautiful is it, therefore, that the Israelitish tradition represents the very first men who confide in this particular providence as heroes of faith, following all the commands of that high Being on whom they acknowledge themselves dependent, just as blindly as, undisturbed by doubts, they are unwearied in awaiting the later fulfilments of his promises.

As a particular revealed religion rests upon the idea that one man may be more favored by Heaven than another, so it also arises pre-eminently from the separation of classes.  The first men appeared closely allied, but their employments soon divided them.  The hunter was the freest of all:  from him was developed the warrior and the ruler.  Those who tilled the field bound themselves to the soil, erected dwellings and barns to preserve what they had gained, and could estimate themselves pretty highly, because their condition promised durability and security.  The herdsman in his position seemed to have acquired the most unbounded condition and unlimited property.  The increase of herds proceeded without end, and the space which was to support them widened itself on all sides.  These three classes seemed from the very first to have regarded each other with dislike and contempt; and as the herdsman was an abomination to the townsman, so did he in turn separate from the other.  The hunters vanish from our sight among the hills, and reappear only as conquerors.