"Kill every Hebrew boy when he is born," had been Pharaoh's order. To
save her son, Jochebed, the mother of little Moses, had put him in
that queer boat and launched him. His sister Miriam stood on the bank
watching that craft with its precious burden. She was far enough off
not to draw attention to the boat, but near enough to offer
protection. There she stands on the bank, Miriam the poetess, Miriam
the quick-witted, Miriam the faithful, though very human, for in after
time she became so mad with that very brother for marrying a woman she
did not like, that she made a great family row, and was struck with
leprosy.
Miriam was a splendid sister, but had her faults like all the rest of
us. How carefully she watched the boat containing her brother! A
strong wind might upset it. The buffaloes often found there might in a
sudden plunge of thirst sink it. Some ravenous water-fowl, might
swoop, and pick his eyes out with iron beak. Some crocodile or
hippopotamus crawling through the rushes might craunch the babe.
Miriam watched and watched until Princess Thermutis, a maiden on each
side of her, holding palm leaves over her head to shelter her from the
sun, came down and entered her bathing-house. When from the lattice
she saw that boat she ordered it brought, and when the leaves were
pulled back from the face of the child and the boy looked up he cried
aloud, for he was hungry and frightened, and would not even let the
princess take him. The infant would rather stay hungry than
acknowledge any one of the court as mother.