EGYPT.

THERE is a period between the accounts of Joseph and Moses, consisting of 430 years, on which sacred and profane history are both silent. Much light has been thrown upon it by the recent discoveries of M. Champollion, who has, with great labor and ingenuity, invented a key to the hieroglyphics of Egypt, which has unlocked the stores of learning of the Egyptian priesthood, and has placed before us, as clearly as a written language could have done, the astonishing civilization of that remote period.

These discoveries not only make us acquainted with the princes, their mode of government, the customs and manners of the people, but the state of the arts, their wars, the customs of surrounding nations: even the portraits of their kings and queens are identified with perfect accuracy. We here give an extract from Rossellini's illustrations, who has been more successful than Champollion in deciphering these characters:

"All the gorgeous details of the haughty courts of the Pharaohs, of which we merely obtain glimpses in the Bible, are brought before us with the vivid efficacy of some phantasmagoric exhibition of departed things and persons. We see the portraits of the Pharaohs, who received and elevated Joseph as his prime minister, given with the accuracy of a portrait of William the Fourth."

We see the superb chairs, couches, sofas, footstools, tables, and beaufets, exhibited by Rossellini. Gold and silver tureens, urns, banqueting cups, &c. of the most exquisite workmanship, and tasteful as well as magnificent forms.

The period of history to which we now allude was that of the eighteenth dynasty, containing the arrival of Joseph in Egypt, and his viceroyship under Amenoph, during whose reign the Hebrew colony was established in Egypt; and it was under this brilliant dynasty that the departure of the children of Israel, under Moses, occurred. Manetho, the most ancient historian of Egypt, calls Moses, Osarsiph, a priest of Heliopolis.

He likewise states two remarkable points respecting the history, which he says he copied from the Hermaic tablets and the obelisks written by Thoth, the same with Enoch, the son of Cain,

and placed in subterranean apartments and winding passages near the sounding statue of Memnon at Thebes. This historian likewise introduces us to a race of Hebrews, consisting of eight hundred thousand, who were compelled to labor in the stone-quarries on the eastern bank of the Nile. Among these pictorial representations, the Jews are easily identified, not only from their physiognomy, but from their being always the same. These Jews are employed, under the dynasty of the kings contemporary with Moses, in the specific art of slavery, which he and Manetho both describe, making bricks and working in the quarries. An Egyptian task-master superintends their work; and the bricks are precisely those which are found in walls, the dates of which belong to the period in question.

The sublime and magnificent monuments erected by this ancient race of monarchs on the plain embraced by "hundred-gated Thebes" attest, to this day, their taste, their ambition, their wealth, and their power.

It was on that myriad-columned plain, beneath its gorgeous archways and gigantic colonnades, that Champollion exclaimed, "These porticoes must have been the work of men a hundred feet high!" Imagination sinks abashed at the foot of the hypostle hall of Karnac. It is said there are two portraits remaining of the Egyptian wife of Solomon, both very beautiful; one at Karnac, and one in the valley of the Queens' Tombs. She is thought to have been part contributor to that production called Solomon's Songs, which consists of about forty lyrical pieces, in every variety of mood and measure; and she must have been as eminent for talent as for beauty.

L.

PANTHEISM AND ROMANISM.-The Christianity of the apostolic writings is throwing off, and is getting itself clear of, every thing which hitherto, through the medium of a diffused profession and of a conventional religiousness, it has come to be entangled with, but which is not its own, and with which it has no true alliance. Christianity is, as we believe, shaking off from its surface the encrustations of recent times; it is parting company with the multitude that of late has pressed about it, and thronged it, and is drawing itself off to the desert for converse with those who are not offended with it as it is. - Isaac Taylor.

THE THREE BAPTISMS.

LEAVES FROM THE PARSONAGE.

Ir had been a lovely spring morning; but the serene clear sky had become overcast with fleecy white clouds, and the soft south breeze had been chased away by a cold north-easter, which was sighing and whistling through the budding trees. We were at dinner, when a quick, impatient peal of the bell startled us from our quiet chat.

"Please, sir, Harry Raymond is very sick, and Mr. Raymond wishes you to go in there as soon as convenient."

Not a moment was wasted; the half-finished plate was pushed aside; and, with the speed of one ever ready to do his Master's bidding, the pastor set off for Mr. Raymond's. He had not far to go, but soon reached the house; and, with noiseless steps, entered the half-opened door. The sound of smothered sobs and hushed voices guided him on; and, in a moment, he stood by the bedside of the little sufferer. A sweet, lovely boy he was; he had numbered seven summers; but one glance at him was sufficient to show that the next would be passed in the garden of heaven, with angel-children for his playfellows, and angel-guides to teach and unfold his mind. Tossing and restless, he was ever in motion, the small hands clutched the bed-clothes convulsively, his cheeks were burning with fever, his eyes sunken, and the heavy lids were half closed over them. The mother had sunk down by him, her face buried in the pillow, while her whole form heaved with her suppressed sobs. The father stood erect and calm, gazing upon his child. The expression of anguish and deep suffering was on his brow. As the minister entered, Mr. Raymond turned eagerly to him; and the flush of hope for one moment kindled in his face, as if he thought the disciple of the Lord at this day could work the same miracle which restored the daughter of Jairus to her father's arms, and blessed, with the life of her only one, the poor widow of Nain; but, alas! it is not for the most earnest disciple to restore health to the diseased frame, or kindle again the light of life in the dying eye. The most he can do is to brighten that eye with the hope of heaven,

and strengthen that frame by imparting to it the knowledge of the strength of the Lord.

"Ah! I am glad to see you," said Mr. Raymond, as he grasped eagerly at the proffered hand; "our darling boy is very ill; we fear he will die; how can we part with him?"

"God will give you strength, if you ask for it; and, if he recalls the spirit he loaned to you to train, you must feel it is done in love."

"Look at him, sir, and see if you can give me hope he will recover."

That word of hope could not be spoken. The work of death, that inscrutable seal which is the passport from this world to the other, was already stamped upon the sweet child-like face; the fever-flush was gradually passing away, and the frame becoming more quiet; but it was the torpor of death stealing over him. The pastor could not speak of hope for this life; and the simple, trite words of consolation seemed too meagre for such a time and scene; but he knelt down, and, with earnest words, strove to lift the thoughts of the suffering ones to the heaven of light and love into which their darling had so soon to be admitted. As he proceeded, the sobs of the mother became hushed; the father's face assumed a more resigned expression, and his whole manner indicated "Thy will be done." Ere the prayer was ended, the spirit of peace seemed to brood over the apartment.

"He has never been consecrated in baptism," said Mr. Raymond. "I trust it is not too late."

"Gladly will I commit the young spirit to the Saviour's charge in the rite which he commanded to be observed," said the pastor. "If you will give me water, I will make this dear child a member of Christ's fold on earth; then, when he reaches heaven, he will be welcomed as one of the lambs of his flock."

Water was brought; and, as the cool drops touched his brow, and the solemn words were spoken, "Henry, I baptize thee in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost," the boy opened his deep-blue eyes, and a gleam of intelligence and joy lighted them up with supernatural brilliancy. Heaven seemed already dawning upon him; but the body was too weak to indicate the emotions thus excited, and he sank back into a lethargic state. "Suffer little children to come unto me, and forbid them not; for of such is the kingdom of heaven." "Come unto me, all

ye

that are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest; for my yoke is easy, and my burden is light." "Whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth." With such words did the pastor strive to strengthen the sorrowing hearts, and impart to them the comfort he foresaw they would soon need, when the spirit of their beloved one would indeed pass home.

When he left them, they were calm; but he promised to return before many hours. Towards night, he again entered the room. It was the same as when he left it, only now the physician stood by the bed, and his young brothers and sisters were clustered around their mother; the elder boy's face was buried in her lap; while the younger ones, sweet twins, scarcely passed infancy, gazed with wondering eyes upon their unconscious brother. The pastor approached the bed, knelt by it, and, as soon as he could command himself, the words of fervent petition arose to the heavenly throne. He prayed not that the precious life might be spared; it was too late for that; but he implored the Father to receive the pure spirit which was so soon to leave its earthly home; and as he prayed, as if in sign that the prayer was answered, the spirit, without one struggle or one heavily drawn breath, flitted away from its earthly tenement; and when the bowed heads were raised, and anxious looks were cast upon the precious one, the sweet smile that rested on his face told of the ineffable joy that greeted him. "The Lord gave, the Lord hath taken away: blessed be the name of the Lord." "And he asked, Is it well with the child? and she answered, It is well," said the pastor, as he grasped the father's hand.

"It is too much; I cannot part with him; he is all the world to me; I cannot live without him," sobbed the heart-broken mother.

"O Emily! say not so, ," said the husband, striving to keep down his own heart-bursting sorrow in the desire to soothe her more acute feeling. "We have our other children left; we must love them more tenderly, care for them more fondly, and strive to fit them to meet our angel Harry, when they too shall be called to the spirit-world. We loved him too selfishly; and perhaps that is why the good' All-Father' has removed him; it gives us now a strong tie to the heavenly world, and may draw our thoughts, which cling so closely to earth, upward. God grant it may!"

"He has never known sin or sorrow here; his brief day has