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SCRIPTURE ILLUSTRATION.

In the sermon on the mount our Lord says, "Whosoever shall compel thee to go one mile, go with him twain." We can all of us easily understand the other part of this command, that, when struck on one cheek, we should in humility offer the other; because, unfortunately, we know what striking is. But many must have wondered what can have given rise to the command of going a second mile with the violent man who has already compelled you to go one mile. Nobody now, and in this country, is ever injured by such treatment. But we learn from coins and inscriptions, that the

couriers in the service of the Roman government had the privilege of travelling through the provinces free of expense, and of calling upon the villagers to forward their carriages and baggage to the next town. Under a despotic government, this became a cruel grievance. Every Roman of high rank claimed the same privilege; the horses were unyoked from the plough, to be harnessed to the rich man's carriage. It was the most galling injustice which the provinces suffered. We have an inscription on the frontier town of Egypt and Nubia, mentioning its petition for a redress of this grievance; and a coin of Nerva's reign records its abolition in Italy. Our Lord could give no stronger exhortation to patient humility than by advising his Syrian hearers, instead of resenting the demand for one stage's “vehiculation," to go willingly a second stage.-Eclectic Review.

PRAYER AND PRAISE.

THE uses of these ordinances are of a twofold nature. A labourer in his garden has, by his labour, a double benefit. There are the health and strength gained immediately by the exercise, and the fruits of the earth in prospect. Thus in prayer and praise, in the adoring and rejoicing elevation of the mind to God, there is the good in the act, and the good from the act. The good in the act is present and palpable. By being enabled to fix the mind on God in the serious thoughtfulness of prayer, or in the pleasurable animation of praise, Divine truth, and Divine love become more thoroughly mingled with the mind, as wine with the water of a vessel which is stirred or shaken. Thus are we at once

purified, comforted, and strengthened. And being so, we observe how well adapted these means of grace are to the constitution of our minds and instincts. Well known, indeed, it is that men (much more easily befooled in religious than in secular affairs) have, in many cases, manufactured for themselves certain effects in the act of prayer, the mechanical cause of which has tended somewhat to discredit all effects whatever. Sad indeed it is, that in the most elevated exercise of the mind men should act so foolishly; yet the remedy is to be found, under God, in greater scriptural light.-C. I. Yorke.

ONE DROP AT A TIME.

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"LIFE," says the late John Foster, "is expenditure: we have it, but are continually losing it; we have the use of it, but are as constantly wasting it. Suppose a man confined in some fortress, under the doom to stay there till death: and suppose there is there for his use a dark reservoir of water, to which it is certain none can ever be added. He knows, suppose, the quantity is very great; he cannot penetrate to ascertain may be how much, but it little. He has drawn from it, by means of a fountain, a good while already, and draws from it every day. But how would he feel each time of drawing, and each time of thinking of it? Not as if he had a perennial spring to go to. Not, 'I have a reservoir; I may be at ease.' No! but, 'I had water yesterday I have water to-day; but having had it, and my having it to-day, is the very cause that I shall not have it on some day that is approaching. And at the same time I am compelled to this fatal expenditure!' So of our moral, transient life! And yet men are very indisposed to admit the plain truth, that life is a thing which they are in no other way possessing than as necessarily consuming; and that even in this imperfect sense of possession, it becomes every day a less possession!

THE ALPHABET.

THE various combinations into which the twenty-four letters of the alphabet may be arranged, amount to

620,448,401,733,239,439,360,000.

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EPHESUS.

Modern Ephesus.

EPHESUS was the chief city of Ionia, in Asia Minor, on the south side, and near the mouth of the river Cayster. It is situated forty miles to the south of Smyrna, and five hundred and forty from Sardis, the capital of Lydia. The rich and beautiful plain of Campus Cilbianus, through which the river flows, lies on one side, still retaining its former character, despite centuries of Turkish oppression.

Ephesus is represented by Pliny as the ornament of Asia, and the largest and most frequented city of Asia Minor; but while, about the epoch of the introduction of Christianity, the other cities declined in power and influence, Ephesus rose to a still higher position than it had previously enjoyed. Much of its prosperity is due to the favour of its governors; for Attalus Philadelphus furnished it with splendid docks and wharfs, which gave peculiar advantages to traders. Under the Romans it became the capital, not only of Ionia, but of the entire province of Asia, and bore the title of its "first and greatest metropolis."

At the time of the apostle Paul, Jews settled in the city in considerable numbers; an enactment was therefore made,

and sent "particularly to the city of the Ephesians, the metropolis of Asia," by which the Jews who were in the army had freedom to disband, as they were not allowed to bear arms, or travel on the sabbath-day, being permitted to 66 use the customs of their forefathers, in assembling together for sacred and religious purposes, as their law requires, and for collecting oblations necessary for sacrifices."* Among the people of Ephesus Paul stayed, reasoning with the Jews in their synagogues during three months, and returning to them, after he had kept the feast at Jerusalem. He then preached the word to them with such success, and performed such miracles among them, that a numerous church was formed

there; and it became the centre of Christianity in Asia Minor.

The extent of the walls of the city was about four miles, being built in a rough manner, but faced with stone, and defended at intervals by towers. Its site has been frequently changed; and Lysimachus is said to have stopped the drains in the lower part of the city, to drive the inhabitants to the upper part, which was considered a more advantageous situation. Part of one of the entrance-gates *Josephus Antiq. xiv, 10, 11.

still remains, adorned with some fine bas-reliefs.

The city is illustrious in classic history, from its famous temple, and the goddess in honour of whom it was constructed“Diana of the Ephesians." It was burned to the ground on the night on which Alexander was born, by a person of obscure birth, who wished to have his name preserved on the page of history. As, however, it would seem somewhat inconsistent with the acknowledged power of the goddess to permit a building which so redounded to her glory to be thus destroyed, it was publicly stated, that she had been so engaged with Olympias, that she had no time to think of anything else. Alexander having offered to erect another temple, on the condition of allowing his name to be inscribed on the front, this was declined by the Ephesians; and they resolved to construct another, which should outvie the former in grandeur and beauty. This was accordingly done, it being of the Ionic order, and occupied two hundred and twenty years to complete. Pliny states that it was four hundred and twenty-five feet in length, two hundred and twenty broad, and supported by one hundred and twenty-seven columns, sixty feet high-each the contribution of some prince-thirty-six of them being richly carved. The architect, Chersiphron, being on the point of committing suicide, from the difficulties he encountered, was assured by Diana that she would complete that in which he failed, and he was by these means encouraged to proceed. Costly and magnificent offerings of various kinds were made to the goddess, and treasured in the temple, such as paintings, statues, etc., the value of which almost exceeded computation. The fame of the temple, the goddess, and of the city itself, was spread not only through Asia, but the world-a celebrity which was enhanced and diffused the more readily, because sacred games were practised there, which called competitors and spectators from every country. Among his other enormities, Nero is said to have despoiled the temple of Diana of much of its treasure." The respect gained for the structure was not diminished till it was destroyed by the Goths, and the only remains are the extensive ruins at the head of the present port.

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The appearance which is now presented on approaching Ephesus forms a striking contrast to what it was at the period of its prosperity. The ruins of the city lie

about two days' ourney from Smyrna, and are comprised in the poor village of Aiasaluck, which consists of a few cottages, fallen even from what it once was as a Mohammedan town. This is attested by a large castle and mosque, containing beautiful stones, enriched with the finest sculpture; and the traveller soon discovers that these are parts of the ruined city. At a distance of half a mile the traces of the desolation are clearly recognised. The stadium, now converted into a corn-field, the theatre, the odeon, and the gymnasium, may all be distinguished in outline, and their area is strewn with fine fragments. A particular part of the entablature of a Corinthian temple has been delineated by M. C. Gonffier, which has perhaps never been surpassed in the richness and variety of the style and the fineness of the execution. But though travellers have paid great attention to the subject, they have been unable to point to the spot where the proud monument of architectural science reared its head; and of all that splendid pile of building, a confused mass of thick walls, shafts, columns of white marble, and fragments of various kinds, alone remains. The ruins of a theatre are still visible, consisting of some circular seats, and numerous arches, supposed to be the one in which Paul was preaching, when interrupted by shouts of "Great is Diana of the Ephesians!" The country around consists of a wild, rich, uncultivated plain, which has an appearance of desolation, calculated only to depress the spirits of the observer, as he sees how the grandeur of the city has passed away!

When Dr. Chandler visited the city, in 1764, he found its population consisting of Greek peasants, living in extreme wretchedness and sloth-the representatives of an illustrious people, and inhabiting the wreck of their greatness; some round the substructure of the glorious edifices they had reared; some beneath the vaults of the stadium, once the crowded scene of their diversions; and some in the abrupt precipice, in the sepulchres which received their ashes. "Such are the present citizens of Ephesus," says he, "and such is the condition to which that renowned city has been reduced. It was a ruinous place when the emperor Justinian filled Constantine with its statues, and raised the church of St. Sophia on its columns. Its streets are obscured and overgrown. A herd of goats was driven to it from the shelter at noon, and a

noisy flight of crows from the quarries | seemed to insult its silence. We heard the partridge call in the area of the theatre and of the stadium. The pomp of its heathen worship is no longer remembered; and Christianity, which was then nursed by apostles and fostered by general councils, barely lingers on in an existence hardly visible."

Though the religious prosperity of the church at Ephesus might have been great, and deserved the praise awarded by the apostle for its " works, labour, and patience," yet it appears not to have maintained its purity of character, either in the eyes of God or man; and having disregarded the warnings faithfully administered by its teachers, "its candlestick was removed out of its place"-leaving | for us a most solemn and important lesson. The pagan worship of gods which their hands had made, was succeeded by the vain presumption of Mohammedan teachers, and the crescent_took the place of the cross of Christ. Desolation has visited this once noble scene, and even the waters of the sea have retreated, leaving a morass covered with mud and rubbish, to take the place before occupied by the waters which bore on their bosom the richly laden vessels of a hundred ports.

STORM ON THE MOUNTAIN-TOP.

Though danger great besets the path
Of him who climbs on high,
Where mountains lift their pointed heads
And mingle with the sky;-
Much greater his, who proudly walks
Before the Lord of All,

For pride before destruction stalks,
And fearful is its fall.

F.

As we sat in different groups on the rounded and ruined summit of Snowdon, I could not help thinking on the various feelings of the different persons who have resorted to the same spot. Man, destined for immortality, seems much more mutable than matter. The mountain remains. They who visit it come and depart, live and die, and are forgotten; and how unlike are they to each other and to themselves! What merriment has there been here! what alarm! what joy! what devotion! what folly! what enthusiasm! what pride! what poetry! what terror! Talking of terror, I remember having heard of an ascent on Snowdon, made from Caernarvon, in the year 1797, which was attended with more than usual circumstances of danger and disaster.

The party, which consisted of a gentleman and his lady, two youths, the guide, and a servant, were improvidently late, not arriving at the guide's house till the afternoon. It was full summer, and the day very serene. They reached the top under the happiest circumstances; when suddenly, or at least little observed by them, clouds gathered on all sides, and they were visited by such a tempest of wind, rain, thunder, and lightning, as not only destroyed all pleasure present and in anticipation, but lasted so long, and became so terrifically violent, as to threaten their existence. They began, of course, to hasten down, but the elements pursued, and a premature obscurity involved them. Every tiny watercourse, which they had not noticed in ascending, was now become a formidable torrent, and floods poured in every direction with furious velocity. The distress of the lady, and her difficulty of proceeding, may be better imagined than described! She was a woman of fortitude and resolution, but these needful qualities were overwhelmed soon by terrors that surrounded her. One of the youths, her son, had gone on, before the storm was at its crisis, to meet the horses, and her fears for his safety were excessive. She became insensible, and was carried down the mountain, her bonnet long since blown away; and her long hair, disengaged from its bands, and saturated with wet, wound by the wind about her neck in such intricate mazes, that it could not afterwards be disentangled without the utmost difficulty. In the meantime, they who were able to observe the storm, and the appearances of nature, were singularly impressed with the amazing fury of the one and the sublimity of the other; for there were intervals, when even gleams of sunshine burst through the tempestuous clouds, and rendered them more awful. They witnessed two phenomena. The first was the passing of the electric fluid from cloud to cloud, below the level on which they stood, and a consequent discharge of rain from those clouds. Another and more extraordinary, was presented during their descent. The morassy level which they had to pass over on this side of the mountain was studded, as it were, by a thousand glow-worms, which, on examination, proved to the phosphorescent roots of rushes. The exhibition of phosphoric light is not unusual in the decay of both animal and vegetable matter; but the

effect in the present case can be produced but in few situations, and is still more rarely attended by circumstances so calculated to heighten the effect. The party, after infinite difficulty, toil, and hazard, reached the guide's home about midnight, with the most lively sentiments of gratitude to Providence for their preservation, during a period in which the terrors and the mercies of God had been brought before them in quick succession! It is a circumstance worth recording, that the lady's bonnet was found long afterwards by a shepherd in a defile of the mountain, who supposed it to have belonged to some one who had perished! Let me add, also, that the lady yet retains a relic of this memorable expedition in a pocket-handkerchief, almost the only thing that was not torn by the wind, on a corner of which had been written by her husband with indelible ink, her name, the day of the month and year, and these words: "In memory of female perseverance and juvenile courage."Freeman.

OLD HUMPHREY ON AUTUMNAL SCENES.

AGAIN and again have we been told, by returning seasons and the pens of poets, that in spring the vegetable and animated world have imparted to them a new life-that creation bursts into a new being that the young branches of the trees shoot upward-the earth is strewn with flowers the birds, wild with joy, sing among the green foliage or in the sunny air, and cattle crop the fresh green grass, with far more than their customary appetite and avidity. Little children, it is said, too, walking abroad with their attendants, prattle of daisies and primroses; Age, with his grey hairs, pacing onward, in feeling and in thought grows young again, and dreams of bygone days; and Sickness, with her sallow cheek, though leaning on crutches, raises heavenward her tearful eye, grateful for the sunny beam that falls upon her, and the balmy breeze, that tastes like returning health. When Spring walks abroad, creation rejoices, and hymns the Great Creator. The heavens are lit up with sunshine, the earth teems with happiness, and everything that has breath seems to praise the Lord.

No wonder that a warm welcome should be given to spring. The green leaf and the budding flower afford joy to the

heart; the voice of the cuckoo is delightful melody, and the song of the lark carries us upwards, not only with delight, but thankfulness. It so happens, however, that autumn is my favourite season; and no sooner does it approach, than I begin to muse on balmy breezes, and to meditate on rural excursions. The seductions of spring and summer try me, but the charms of autumn are irresistible. The rural fit comes upon me with power, and the desire to roam must be gratified. London is a noble city, and in many respects the noblest city in the world: but the air of Cheapside is not like that of the country; the leaves of the books in the libraries of the British Museum are not the leaves of forest trees; the best paintings of the Royal Academy and National Gallery are but faint imitations of nature; and the wearyfooted, pent-up sheep and bullocks of Smithfield are but a poor substitute for the flocks of the wide-spread pastures and the "cattle on a thousand hills." In autumn the past comes over my spirit,

and my heart grows clamorous for moun

tain and moor, and the rich garniture of woods and fields.

The best years of my childhood were passed in the country, surrounded with woods and coppices, hills and dales, fields and running brooks; and there my youthful mind drank in the dear delight of sylvan scenes. Then were sown seeds that were to spring up in my heart and affections, and become a part of my being, even to grey hairs. The love of the sylvan, the simple, the peaceful, the pure, and the joyous, was imparted to me, not to be impaired and diminished, but rather to be enhanced by the sterner cares of afterlife. How vividly can I now recall many of my boyish revels in lonely dingles and sequestered glades!

"Beneath some patriarchal tree

I lay upon the ground;
His hoary arms uplifted he,
And all the broad leaves over me
Clapp'd their little hands in glee,
With one continuous sound:

"A slumberous sound-a sound that brings
The feelings of a dream-
As of innumerable wings;
As when a bell no longer swings,
Faint the hollow murmur rings

O'er meadow, lake, and stream.

"And dreams of that which cannot die,
Bright visions came to me,
As, lapp'd in thought, I used to lie,
And gaze into the summer sky,
Where the sailing clouds went by,
Like ships upon the sea.

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