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rebels welcomed in Newcastle and the king's statue hurled into the Tyne; the garrison at Hull surprised by a coup de main; Declaration of the Duke of Norfolk against popery and arbitrary power in the market place at Norwich; Bristol opens its gates to Shrewsbury-the bishop the first to welcome the Dutch troops. Rescue from prison at Gloucester of Lovelace; he marches triumphant into Oxford; some of the heads of the university will coin their plate to help the Prince of Orange.

London, according to Macaulay, contained at this time thousands of housebreakers and highwaymen, cut-throats and ring-droppers, and there were moreover in it thousands of idle apprentices who loved the excitement of a riot. The chief authority in the country had extinguished itself, and the lord mayor, the chief authority in the city was so extremely nervous, that the sight of the terrible Lord Chancellor disguised as a vagabond sailor, begrimed with coal dust, and trembling at his bar, so overcame him that he fell into a fit, was carried to his bed, whence he never rose. Yet in the midst of every incentive to the wildest excitement, with all the machinery of law and order legally unable to move, this terrible population committed no "atrocious" crime. What rioting there was, was entirely of a political character, and consisted chiefly in the destruction of Roman Catholic chapels and convents and the houses of Roman Catholic gentlemen. But not a single Roman Catholic lost his life, either in London or throughout the country. With the single exception of the infamous Jeffreys, the people showed no vindictive desire to harm any person whatever. And this

although their excitement one night well-nigh bordered on lunacy under the belief that Feversham's Irish troops were marching on Lond intending to massacre every man, woman, and child in the metropolis. The nation for a moment had realised its unity, and its seal elevated by ennobling thoughts concerning the supreme value of its religion and its liberty, and the way in which God had appeared for their preservation, there was no place for the tempter. He was for a while awed and confounded.

On the very day James finally left London William entered. Great crowds assembled near St. James's Palace to greet him, every hat and cane adorned with Orange favours. The bells were ringing, faggots for bonfires were heaped in the streets. But William, who had no sympathy with the people, avoided their cheers as much as possible, and came through the park at nightfal to St. James's.

It is not part of our purpose here to relate how the revolution was legalised and made the foundation of our present constitution in church and state, for is not that all written in the history books? Suffice it to say that the ghosts of arbitrary power which James so imprudently raised were all decently laid to rest by the Declaration of Right, in which the call of William and Mary to the vacant throne was set forth and duly accepted, and which formed a sort ci contract between king and people.

Thus the struggle terminated, a struggle in which great lessons had been learnt, lessons which the country took deeply to heart, and which it has been slowly trying to realise ever since.

RICHARD HEATH

WHA

JHAT child has not heard of them, for they are the largest and oldest buildings in the world. I hope, however, to tell you a few things about them not generally known. People think they are built on a plain; really they stand on cliffs, and when you ascend those cliffs you find yourself on a raised table-land of desert. Then too there are a great number of pyramids in Egypt, though these largest are at Geezeh, a few miles from Cairo. Now it is quite easy to get to them, as a good road has been made, which road has trees planted on either side; really it is quite a fashionable drive for people to take. Just fancy, having picnics at the pyramids !

You say who built them, and what are they for? These are difficult questions, and, until lately, learned men differed very much, but you need not bother your little heads with rival theories. At Geezeh there are three great ones, and some smaller, but the big one of all is called "Cheops." Who was he? Well Herodotus, who is called the "father of history," by which is meant that he was one of the first travellers who wrote an account of what he saw in his travels, and which account has come down to us, says Cheops was a king, that he employed 100,000 men to work on

this huge building, that he gave them poor pay, and that many died.

We can see by hieroglyphic tablets or writings of the Ancient Egyptians how the people built them. The stones were brought from quarries across the Nile, and laid in steps or stairs inclining inwards. The whole height of Cheops is 482 feet (that is, if a little of the top had not been knocked off.) Now that is about 100 feet higher than St. Paul's Cathedral in London, so when you look at that great church you can fancy how high this pyramid is. It is said to be 5000 years old. No building in the world can compare with this for the amount of stone used in its construction, and what is worthy of note is that every stone was perfectly laid and finished. Longfellow sings,

"In the elder days of art

Builders wrought with greatest care
Each minute and unseen part,

For the gods see everywhere."

They are now generally believed to have been tombs for kings, and it is said that so soon as a king came to the throne he began to build his tomb or pyramid, and that the reason why Cheops is so large is that that king lived to be

ninety years of age. At least that is the age given to Cheops in an old Egyptian writing or papyrus which is now in the museum at Turin.

Not only is this great pyramid wonderful because of its size, but it has many most wonderful passages and chambers in it. One gallery is called the great gallery, from its size, and one fine chamber is called the king's chamber. It is 34 feet long, 17 feet 7 inches broad, and 19 feet 2 inches high. At one end of it stands an empty sarcophagus of red granite; no inscriptions are on it. Then there are many strange passages, and a very deep pit or well, and other wonders which would take too long now to relate. We will talk about the outside, for we can climb to the top. I cannot say I thought it easy to climb, though the huge blocks of stone are like rude steps, very much worn by weather and time.

When this pyramid was in its glory it was cased or covered with blocks of red granite, polished quite smooth; but the Moslems, when they conquered the country, stripped off these outside blocks, because they were so valuable, and took the stones to Cairo to build their palaces with. You say you want to go up. So you start and take four or six native Arabs, who live in a village near, whose right it is to take travellers up; some of these men go in front and pull you up the blocks of stone, while the others shove you up. You cannot go straight up, but have to zigzag about; half way there is a sort of resting-place, and there you are glad to rest and get breath and drink some water which an Arab boy brings up-of course you have to pay men and boy. When I went up I did not much like it, but the leader of the Arabs said in very good "Never fear, I will look after you like English, the apple of my eye," touching his eye as he spoke. The Bible language sounded so strange.

On the top I stayed a long time to make some sketches; it was, however, a very windy place; I thought I should be blown off; the Arabs had to sit round me and hold my sketching things tight. What a wonderful sight it was! Looking down, the figures at the bottom looked like little dots. The second pyramid seemed small; you looked right over it, and beyond to such a great expanse of desert, all hills of rocks and hollows of sand; and then, looking the side the Nile flows, you saw all Cairo and its gardens, set in lovely tints of green: the Nile, like a broad streak of silver; while the canals gleamed like threads of light and life, while the desert side had a silence of death.

If going up is bad, coming down is worse; you see there is no hand-rail for you to hold on by, so I gave myself quite up to the Arabs, and often shut my eyes, it made one so giddy to look down. Some foolish people think it is not dangerous, and refuse the help of the Arabs; and quite recently a poor silly English soldier said he would come down alone, but slipped and bounded from ledge to ledge; his poor body was lifeless

when it reached the bottom.

If these stones could speak what a wonderful history they would tell! In their grandeur when Abraham went into Egypt; quite middle-aged

buildings when Moses led the people of Is out to Sinai; grey and weather-beaten when cour Lord Christ was born on earth, and yet they stand!

It used to be said by writers long ago, befre people knew much about the history of di Egypt, that these Pyramids were some of the things the Israelites were set to build by the cruel Egyptian king: now we know better than to say things like that. The Israelites had nothing to do with the building of them, for they lived in the "land of Goshen," which is a long way off, and they had to make “bricks" of Nile mud, and built store houses for corn, which we have lately found and dug out; and then, too, these pyramids are built of stone, and they were cut, carved, and builded long before Jacob went into Egypt for bread. There is no mention t these pyramids in the Bible; that book does no tell any of the history of the great nations, and little of the proud doings of kings, but it does often tell of the dealings and most of all of the love of God. That book tells many stories < little children, or of poor despised men. Go. does not judge as men do.

The Sweetest Song.

"And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God."-Luke ii. 13.

LISTEN, my darlings!

Babes were wrapt in slumber,
With happy smiles upon each little face,
When from the skies swift angels without number
Sang of the Babe of David's royal race.

Shepherds their watch amid their flocks were keeping,
Dim were the hills beneath Judæan skies,
When one bright seraph, as the world lay sleeping.
With light celestial blessed their wondering eyes.
"Behold! I bring glad tidings to all people;

For unto you," he cried, "the Christ is born!"
(This is the news that rings from tower and steeple,
Oh, children dear, on every Christmas morn.)
And then the angel told them of the manger,
Where lay the holy Child, in poor array,
Where He, the King of kings, a homeless stranger,
For love of man was born on Christmas Day.

Then suddenly, as if the courts of heaven
Were overflowing with its joy and love,
A host of angels from the skies all riven
Sang the high praises of the Lord above.

"Glory to God! To God the highest glory!"
And benedictions fell like summer rain.
"Peace upon earth!" until the world is hoary;
No song so sweet will fall to earth again.

Oh, what a night of happiness and wonder

Through the long ages still the angels call. Are you not glad the heavens were rent asunder, That we might hear the sweetest song of all?

CLARA THWAITES

BIBLE NOTES AND QUERIES.

A CONSTANT READER writes: "I should feel much inlebted if you would give an explanation of the following ext: 6 Christ who through the Eternal Spirit offered Himself without spot to God.'-Heb. ix. 14.”

THE "Eternal Spirit" in this passage unloubtedly designates our Lord's Divine nature. So, in Romans i. 3, 4, we read of Him as "born of he seed of David according to the flesh; declared o be the Son of God with power, according to the Spirit of holiness;" and in 1 Tim. iii. 16, "Him who vas manifested in the flesh, justified in the Spirit." His Divine essential being "justified" or vindicated His claims to the trust and obedience of nen. Compare 1 Peter iii. 18; "put to death n the flesh but quickened in the Spirit." Now His offering of Himself was partly through His nortal flesh, for He was slain; it was also through the Eternal Spirit which in Him was incarnate, for that also He surrendered: "Lo, I am come to lo Thy will, O God." The purpose in this part of the Epistle to the Hebrews is to show the superiority of Christ's sacrifice over the offerings prescribed in the law. In these, "the victims rave up an animal life, all were unconscious, but Christ gave Himself, His own will and heart consenting-not the man only, but all that was Divine in Him: His higher nature which, before time, acquiesced in the purpose of the Father, and that same nature now a conscious agent in effecting it."-Schaff's Commentary. Note by Dr. Angus.

A FRIEND AND OLD SUBSCRIBER writes from Brighton: Our Lord's express teaching in Mark xi. 24, is, Whatsover things' (no reservation), Whatsoever things ye desire, when ye pray believe that ye receive them, and ye shall have them.' And in the verse preceding (23) He tells us to believe that those things which we pray shall come to pass, and we shall have whatsoever we pray. How is this reconcilable with what is often taught, namely that God does not give us what we ask, unless He sees it to be right? Our Lord puts no limitation, he uses the word 'whatsoever.' So then according to the teaching referred to I may pray in vain for the conversion of a sinner, and that he may be restored to his family."

OUR correspondent's question touches a subject which has often occasioned much painful doubt. The promise seems unconditional: and yet it is evidently restricted to the prayer ffaith. What, then, is the faith of true prayer? Is it not trust in the infinite wisdom and love of God? Now, if we have this trust, we shall believe first that God will give what we ask if He sees it to be right; and secondly, with equal assurance, that He will not give if He knows it would not be right. If we pray truly, we apprehend this condition. If we do not apprehend it, ours is not true prayer at all, and therefore the promise does not apply. It is impossible to believe that our Lord

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can have assured His disciples that unconditionally whatever they desired should be given to them. The words of our Lord, as given in St. Mark (compare St. Matthew xxi. 22), declare one element in this faith to be the belief that they already had the things asked for. They had them in idea, though not yet in actuality. But how could they believe that they had these things? The faith, we reply, by which they could so believe, was itself the gift of God: and He would not give it unless He had also granted the request. All true prayer is answered: it is the language of the Holy Spirit in the heart, "making intercession;" and the response is certain. But all desire is not prayer; all asking is not prayer and even the case that our correspondent supposes-ardent longing for the conversion and restoration of a sinner, may not be in accordance with God's wise and loving but mysterious will. In this, as in other cases, the spirit of entire submission, however difficult, must be maintained by the suppliant.

The Secret Chamber.

(IN MEMORIAM, 1688.)

N the gloomy years in Scotland

Lived one who loved the Covenant,
And those who bore its name.
Who wept the husband of her youth,-
One not in battle slain

When Monmouth rode to victory
On Bothwell's fatal plain.

He fell not in the open day,-
Nor fighting sank to rest,
His trusty broadsword in his hand,
And his banner on his breast.

But when a homeless wanderer,
He sped with bated breath
Along the heath, where fierce Dalyell's
And Grierson's names meant death.

The moonbeams shone across his path,
Lag's troopers mark'd his flight,
And their warning cry of "Halt!" rang out
'Mid the silence of the night.

He dauntless faced the scowling band
Eager to shed his blood;

He saw their dark brows menaced death,
And he met it where he stood.

Long, long he lay on the moorland waste,
Ere they found him cold and dead,
The lark his requiem carolling

In the blue lift overhead.

No moss-grown stone is there to tell,
Where his life-blood stain'd the sod;
Yet, though unknown to mortal man,
'Tis not unmarked of God!1

1 Mrs. Hemans' "Graves of the Martyrs."

Then for the homeless such as he,

In danger on the moor,

His gentle widow at her home

Kept ever open door.

For hid behind the wainscot

In an old panell'd room,
By side of stately fire-place,
Faint shadowed in the gloom,

A touch on hidden spring reveal'd,

A little chamber fair,

Where fugitives might spend their days

In safety and in prayer.

And kindly hearts the same made known

To friends around the Hall,

And when across the dreaded heath
Night's shadows 'gan to fall,

Would come some hapless wanderer

Some straggler from the glen

When moss and dell were hounded o'er

By Clavers and his men.

Would steal the weary foot of age,
The wounded in despair;

And all for love of Him who died,
Were kept and cherished there,

Until from off our troubled land

The shadows roll'd away;

And on her mountain-tops there dawn'd

A new and brighter day

When mercy, born of pitying heaven,

Bade persecution cease,

And won for Scotland aud her sons

who were willing to contribute something towards rewarding the industrious, and supplying them with necessaire" The general spirit of good-will has, however, long she overstepped all such limitations. The rule now seems t be that he that hath shall give to him that hath not, he that hath little to him that hath less. So wide is t range of Christian charity that few at this season are lef wholly without notice. Well would it be if all wh received remembered Him "from whom descendeth every good and perfect gift."

The holy calm of peace.

ELLEN E. GUTHRIE.

CHRISTMAS BOXES.

THERE are few children in England who do not know

THERE are for this box is. The engraving which we

give in another page takes us back to a time when the custom took another form, and was not so general. The Romans used to give presents on the first day of the New Year; and in some countries now gifts are more commonly interchanged at that season than at any other.

The Christmas box is said to have had its origin in the custom of collecting moneys that masses might be said by the priests. A box for this purpose was once as common— probably much more common-than the missionary-box, or hospital-box, now to be found in houses. According to Brand, the Christ-mass Box was a box into which coin was dropped for masses to be said at Christmastide; and servants were allowed to ask for "box money," that they, like their masters, might be enabled to pay the priests, in accordance with the well-known proverb, "No penny, no pater-noster." The custom, however, soon came to have another purpose. We are told that towards the end of the sixteenth century apprentices procured earthen boxes, into which employers and customers dropped money, and that these were broken at Christmas, and the contents spent in festivities. Thus, one old book speaks of "an apprentice's box of earth," as apt to take all, but to restore nothing till it be broken. Boxes of this sort seem also to have been carried from house to house. Later still, we find the Christmas box described as "the bounty of well-disposed people,