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TWO DOLLARS AND FIFTY CENTS. PER A-NNUU:. Y'OLUME XL., NO. 37. Original FALLEN. St. James i. 12-15. Ps. cix. by w. v. n. Standing whe.e n angel Well might wish to .*tand, Preaching Christ’* evangel. Through the guilty land. Fallen from hi.- station, With his shepherd's rod 1 From his high vocation, O'er tr.e llutk of Hod 1 By sin's subtle power, mu it ten through the eyes ; In 'n evil hour, Virtue falls and dies. Looking on Lathdheba, Brave 1-riah's wife, Jjn il’s lustful fever Shamed his throne and life. Lo. the wrecks availing ! Kings and priests cast down 1 Virtue’s temples falling, :!or >r’ shattered crown ! Lika an Ksau sinning, \. ■l'-iafU tb/o\vu away 1 ,- 0 V \ufy rciuorseTor aye. Gone out unto Judas, Fail hies o the Lord ! Si.. Ist by sin, like Theudas Failea by the sword I Lost to reputation. Cast out from his lot! j)M 1 in degradation. Lurid u.rif.rgot! < mi his house ent diit.g Her tageefshame! Cbiidr< n weeping, wailing oV- a blotted name. Mercy throned in Heaven! We. p his guilty tall ! Can he bn forgiven ? Blood was shed for all. <.-. -***.* i- -cmaxn > wmmmmmm—mm mmmm—mm Contributions. AM 1 IN THE APOSTOLIC LINE ! I THINK SO. 11Y REV. !,. riKKCK, I). D. !t will no doua* see n straigs to many of my d>- :r loving friends that I should show any c ueern on a question that has been so long s"tl I by the unquestioning confidence of all who have known me. Well, it does look strange, but there is a reason for it Satan has many devices, and among them this may be one. If a minister, now and then, should be preserved in the use of the Church for three score and ten years as a watchman, and should retain his mental soundness and his all the time zeal for his Church, but becoming more and more im bued with the original ideal of a spiritual, heavenly minded Christian experience, and seeing and knowing the membership of his Church to have been declining in spiritual godliness for at least two score or more of seventy years oversight and intimate watch care, shoal i make declaration thereof in his still responsible relation to his immediate ministerial watehtnanship—does not every one see, especially every one whose loose style of livin' made it necessary for him to think, that the old man believed in more religion than was indispensable to eternal life, orelse Tndievi and himself without enough to be an heir ■i thi'jjnherifancr: that ;vith Satan to tempt, and the world and flesh to please, he or she, ns the case might be—for both sexes are fear fully implicated—would be most, likely to con clude an old minister too religious in his p lipit views, rather than themselves too ir religious to pass the final reckoning safely? it is almost as certain as fate. I tell you, ith heartfelt solicitude, that while no one could desire to be deceived in this question, Have 1 religion enough in kind and quality to save me at last ? there is not one of all this doss of nominal Christians, clinging to the Church and such religions services as can lie observed without the cultivation of the spirit of holiness with the hope of getting to heaven therein, that is not practicing on himself daily the most absolute sys tem of self-deception. This is exactly what St. Paul meant iti Gal. vi., 7,8, 9, when he *aid : “ !>> not deceived; God is not mock ed,” etc. It is only self deception that we are accountable for; therefore, we have the following reason for not deceiving ourselves : G and is not mocked —cannot be put off with a religious life which even we were never able to realize as such by any divine manifesta tion of the Holy Spirit’s inhabitation; a pre tentious mode of Christian living in which the heart always condemns us because we never have any evidence of Christ in us the hope o glory—there being no welling up of the water of iife in us, which was intended to be the proof of its presence, else it would not have been mentioned as the evidence of its existence. I have said there is a reason why I should inquire. Am 1 in the Apostolic line of min isterial succession ? This is th“ reason : My ministry for years past has been chiefly di rected to the two objects of keeping the Church from leaving the good old way —the wav ol holiness—and the bringing back of the multitude in the Church whom I knew to be off of this only way to heaven ; piently, I hav" not preached expe perence, as my disappointed friends call that sort of preaching which, in spite of al! prudence, will run into the sensational whenever it becomes a resort for effect, which is probably always the case when it is held in reserve for etfeet. > I discovered a great while ago that the worst thing a pastor could do for his charge was to endeavor to arouse their religious sensibilities into a high reli gious exci'ement- in the midst of a life of many irreligious affections and fruits. I was always in favor o! a religious state that must, at times, overflow it3 level, must make us beside ourselves, but only when it was emphatically unto God—which is never so, except when the love of Christ constrains it. If it has to be blown up by the use of this sensational bellows—by the sensitive stimu lation of recognition associations in minds where the law of Christ is comparatively pow ertess —although it may be genuine in its ti f it is not the (ruit of the Spirit; it never es any additional grace ; as soon as the insiasm of the excitement is over the re ligions status of the subject is found to be ex actly the same —there is no evidence of in creased death unto sin, and more living unto God, which are the only proofs of growth in grace, and growth in grace is the only proof that we are walking in the Spirit. The mi ser who, in the face of Christ’s absolute com mand, is laj ing up treasure on earth —paying his pastor dimes when under the law of God he owes him dollars (I mean what I say, owes him dollars)—goes his way after one of these religions excitements, in which he got what he called a blessing, better satisfied with himself than ever that his financial policy is right— particularly, that his money is worth whatever he can get for it, and if the times are bard, and men are sore pressed, his money increases in its worth until its value has gone up from ten to twenty per cent. ; The stewards meet him and tell him how hard the preacher is run —hardly a cake of corn bread for his wife and children—and he will tell them, with what he thinks truth, that he has not a dollar in hand to save his life— which will be true, in his sense of true; but it is only true because he had been able to let out all of his money at twenty per cent., and, although he knew his quarterage was due, he did not save any of his money for his pastor, hut let it all go—not so much be cause the borrower wanted it all as because his necessity compelled him to borrow at even twenty per cent., and the lender was more than willing to let it all go—so that be in truth could say, when called on for quarterage, he did riot have a dollar in the world. This, brethren, is a case of the sort which Paul had in view when he said, in its mean ing, Don't deceive yourselves, you can't mock God. How strange, that such a man as this should ever wheedle himself into the dream of being created anew creature in Christ Jesus without any positive renewal in the spirit of the mind ! Yet, the Church is crowded with this sort of mone.veddjiL .erts. ,1 ask, whertj ire the moneyed mfojpl our 'Church in whom there isanj logicalevidence that in their professed conversion they un derwent such a renewal in the spirit of their mind in reference to the inoidinate love of money, or the too selfish use of it, as to prove that they were in the spirit of their mind actually renewed —transformed hy the renewing of the mind—made over again—so that, in relation to money, the convert was a new crea’ure, so much so as to furnish prac tical proof that beyond his own necessities he made it to do good with, as one of God's elect stewards? I ask, where is the proof of this only type of spiritual regeneration among our moneyed converts? Ah! me, it is right here. They are converts to Method ism as it is—us they found it—not as it wa and as it always must be, to be Method ism on its golden pla'form of general rules compiled from the lively oracles for developing the truth and sincerity of the professed desire to flee from the wrath to come, and to be saved from sin. A state of mind which, if it really did exist, would de velop its presence and progress by such proofs of its righteousness as Mr. Wesley enunciated in the general rules of religions affiliation and fellowship in his Societies, and we think, without his special requisition of it, accepted and incorporated into the discip linary law of the Church as the fundamental law of membership in the Methodist Episco pal Church, where they have rested undis turbed for ninety-two years, and passed in the meantime under the review of thirty General Conferences without a motion or a resolution to discard them as a fungus, only in the way. And now, when to these unmeth odistic intruders into the Church they are a Church nuisance, not a man can be found in America, that regards himself to be a Meth odist man, that will ever move the oblitera tion of these rules on the gro ind that they require a life of religion higher and more stringent in its morals than is required by the word and Spirit of God. And yet., unless my opinions are falsely grounded, and very unfortunately fed, you can find preachers among us who, if the issue is made to enforce them or drop them out of the discipline, like vua might drop ahvwn ont 7 in the rp®isfo’L.- f | the hymn book, will jump at this miserable alternative. If so, all that ever made a Methodist, or a Methodist Church under i,ts original denominational name, is going, and will in its second centennial be gone. Meth odism as a distinguished system of Christian consistency cannot over live its raithodica! rigidness, and nothing but a set of unaltera hie and enforced rules of moral discipline will make a Methodist Church. Suppose, now, the Methodist ministry, un able to deny the correlation of our general rules with the word of God and His Holy Spirit would rather drop them out than en force them against a brother such as I have been describing, does not anybody see that such a course is a course of self deception, if it is done at all with any reference to bet tering the Church? And if from reasons of easiness in Zion —the only reason that will lead a Methodist to desire the aboli tion of the general rules, or a Methodist minister to wink at it—is not. God mocked ? I stand aghast if it is so. No other Chalmers will ever feel constrained to say that our Methodism is “ Christianity in earnest.” We will be the most depraved of all the evan gelical Churches in the land if we ever let go our general rules. Will be, because the effect of libratiou from a tighter to a slacker moral obligation always increases libertin ism. The fashionable women of our Church are this day the most intemperate devotees at this shriue of idolatry, because they are, by default on our part, authorized as Meth odists to put on as much gold and costly apparel as they can get, and want. Bnt it will be expected that I should show more clearly how the sensational theory is adduced in vindication of my strin gent theology. Well, this is my poliev: I can never damage true disciples of Christ by putting them through the most severe examination of their faith and hope—the closer if the verdict of conscience is not guilty, the happier will an unmistaken disciple be. For our rejoicing is this, the testimony of our conscience that in simplicity and godly sincerity, without fleshly wisdom (all things being settled upoD the square of God’s word), these people do not want, something said to make them happy, but to be able to rejoice, from the testimony of their conscience, that thvy are living, as far possible, by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of the Lord. Bat those sen sational professors graduate their religious sta'us by the amount of religious excitement they can realize uuder sensational discourses addressed mainly to religious sensibilities and sympathies, never pinned down closely on a good conscience in all things. Having pursued a course of religious generalization too much, we have allowed our people to regard religious excitements as revivals cf religion itself, until it has come to this that our people don’t like any sort of preaching except such as promotes this religious revi val feeling, because with them this religious feeling is religion, and as this religious feel ing can be excited into greater warmth and zeal for sectarian Methodism, and can be had in greater abundance while walking in open contempt of Methodist rules as rules of Christian devotion to Christian morals, it is not to be wondered at that just as the Church fills up with these merely sectarian Method ists the general rules becomes an incubus upou their Methodism, and the way is regu larly opening to get rid of them, not be cause they are are anti-Christian at all, but because they are too Christian to protect a corrupt Methodism. Look upon all violators of them as enemies in the camp. How small a portion of our lives is that we truly enjoy 1 In youth we are looking for ward for things that are to come ; in old age we look backward to things that are past. PUBLISHED BY J. W. BURKE & COMPANY, FOR THE METHODIST EPISCOPAL CHURCH, SOUTH. FORGIVING AM) BEING FORGIVEN. BY HEY. J. M. BOLANI), A. M. The original design of our Creator was for mankind to live in peace and harmony with each other. But Bin brought in discord, re crimination, enmity, hatred, revenge, and malice. These evil passions are ever ready to run riot: hut circumstances may greatly increase the provocations that inflame them. Such a state of things has existed in this land for the last decade and a half. And such has been the nature of the provocations that thousands have yielded to their seduc tive influence, and have indulged feelings to wards their fellow creatures wholly antago nistic to the spirit of our holy Christianity. This state of things has gone on until some thing ought and must be done to arrest the wide-spread evil. We believe that a Bible view of this subject may be made a blessing to all who want to serve God and do right. To this end we call attention to several facts: First, The gospel proposes to correct these evil passions of the depraved heart, and re store love and harmony among men. The gospel is a grand system of forgiveness. Just take the idea of forgiveness out of the gospel and what would you have left? It contem plates the forgiveness of all manner of sins, save the sin against the Holy Ghost. Christ came to save the lost—to call sinners to re pentance. The gospel, as announced by the angels, is “peace on ea’th and good will to wards men !” No man can he saved unless he accepts forgiveness for bII his sins as a gracious gift of God through Christ. Second, Our forgiveness is suspended upon our forgiving others. “'For if you forgive men their tresspasses, your Heavenly Father will also forgive you: hut if ye forgive -not men heir tresspasses, neither will your Father forgive your tresspasses.” Therefore, we must forgive, or we can never be forgiven. We must forgive, or our damnation is sealed ! Third, Religion forbids our holding ill will, hatred, enmity, malice, or revenge towards any one. “I say unto you love yonr enemies, and pray for them that persecute you, and despitefully use you, and say all manner of evil against you falsely.” “Put off all these; anger, wrath, malice," etc. “Whoso hateth his brother is a murderer, and ye know that no murderer hath eternal life abiding in him." “Avenge not yourselves, I will repay aaith the Lord.” Religion is love— love to God and love to man. No man can harbor hatred and malice in his heart and remain a Christian. Hatred is murder, and “no murderer hath eternal life abiding in him ” And yet there are Church members all over this land with hatred and malice in their hearts, who dream that they are on their way to heaven, because they once tasted the joys of pnrdened sin I They may be sail ing rapidly across the sea of life, but it is a demon’s breath that fills the sails, and a de mon s hand is guiding their bark to ruin 1 It matters not what has been the provoca tion—how severe has been the injury inflict ed—we dare not give place to hatred or ma lice; if we do, we forfeit the love of God, and fall into condemnation, and then we must forgive or we can never be forgiven. But you are not bound to put an enemy into your bosom. A man may have abused yonr eonfidepce ( and kindness— hiiv.j enjoyed your hospitality, and then gone out and slandered yon and yonr family. Now, while yon dare not treasure up hatred and revenge against him, yet you are not hound to extend these courtesies to him again—for he has violated the sacred laws that environ the family circle —he has outlawed himsel from the protection and curtesies of society. To invite him again into your house, is to put a viper in your bosom. There is but one way for him to get back into the social posi tion which he has forfeited. He must repair the wrong as far as it can be repaired —he must repent and bring forth fruits, meet for repentance. If he does this, then you must forgive him —put him back in his former position And upon this condition, Jesus says, that you must not only forgive him seven times, but seventy times seven ! Thus one man may hold another man responsible at the bar of public opinion for violating social laws, and yet indulge no hatred to wards him. In such a case, if the offender repents and ask forgiveness, it must be grant ed; but that forgiveness does not imply ha tred on the part of the forgiving party, but a simple restoration of the offending party to his former social relation. Just here so many people make a fatal mistake. They confound things that are distinct. Asa citizen, it may be my duty to hold a man to an account for what he does and Bays; but that does not justify me in treasuring up ill will, or hatred in my heart towards him—no offence in the catalogue of crime will justify me in such feelings towards any fellow being; and the moment I indulge them, I forfeit, my justified state before God. While religion does not require me to embrace an avowed enemy, yet it does forbid my hating him; and when fie repents —makes the amende honorable —it requires me to forgive the of fence by putting him back in the social posi tion and relation he occupied before. And this is to be repeated, if need be, “until seventy times seven 1” To many, this is a hard saying. There are many who say that when a man violates their confidence once they can never have any more confidence in him. They forget the long catalogue of crimes and offences Divine justice had against them, all of which Divine mercy forgave. They forget, also, how often they have broken their solemn vows to God, and how often God has forgiven them, and re-established them in his favor and confidence. They have made vows at the sacramental board in the presence of the emblems of the broken body and shed blood of tbeir crucified Lord, and then gone out and broken these solemn vows 1 And their hope of heaven to-day de pends upon the fact that they are under a dispensation of mercy, whereby tbeir future short comings and sins may be forgiven. With these facts before us, and the example of the blessed Saviour praying for his mur derers on the Cross, who can refuse to for give his fellow traveler to the bar of judg ment? The unjust steward who refused to forgive his tellow servant as his lord had for given him, had all the debt which had been lorgiven, replaced to his account 1 And Jesus added: “So likewise shall my Heavenly Father do also unto you, if je from your hearts forgive not every one his brother their tresspasses.” Mat. xviii: 23-35. Finally, we call attention to two special cases: First, Your duty when your brother hath aught against you. “If thou bring thy gift to the altar, and there rememberest that thy brother hath aught against thee; leave there thy gift before the altar, and go thy way; first be reconciled to thy brother, and then come and offer thy gift.” Mat. v: 23-4. Second, Your duty when others offend you, “If thy brother shall trespass against thee go and tell him his fault between thee and him alone," etc. Mat. xviii: 15, 16,17, MACON. GEORGIA, TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 11, 1877. In these two passages, Christ makes it the ‘.operative duty of both the offender and ihe offended to go and propose a reconciliation before any other sfop is taken. The failure of either party to do his duty does not ex onerate the other party. If these instruc tions were carried out to the letter, how few cases would ever come before the Church! Tried by the balances of the sanctuary, how many are found wanting! No wonder the Church is shorn of her moral power! We must forgive, or we can never be forgiven! Talladega, Ala. Stkta. From the Nashville Christian Advocate. LETTER FROM BISHOP MARVIN. NO. XXXII. THE SOURCES OK THE JORDAN. After leaving the Lake of Galilee, we pro needed northward some miles, over a rocky, mountainous road, lying parallel with the river, but three or four miles to the west, when suddenly before us, and to our right, a large valley opened, having a lake in the midst. Of course it was Lake Merom and the upper Jordan valley. I was quite un prepared to find this valley so large. The bottom land must be six or eight miles wide, and three times as long, or more. It was as green as the Valley of the Nile, with the barren mountains of Galilee on the west, and of the Hauran on the east, the foot hills of Hermon on the north, and the snow-clad summit of the great mountain farther back, a little to the east of north. The valley was dotted with villages of the pastoral Bedouins. The Bedouin tents are usually made of a coarse fabric of woven goat's hair, and are as black as the “tents of Kedar.” But those we saw here are made of a sort of reed matting. A few were covered with the black gout's-hair cloth. But generally the covering and all was made of matting. Their wealth consists almost, exclusively of cattle, with a few buffalo— the same ugly creature that, we saw in such numbers in China, India, and Egypt, but have seen nowhere in Palestine or Syria, except in this upper valley of the Jordan. The Bedouins elsewhere are famous horse breeders, but here they seem to raise cattle exclusively. I suppose they find a market for them in Damascus, which is only three or four days distant. I presume they subsist to a great extent upon the flesh and milk of their herds. The pasturage of this alluvial region—for this valley is all alluvium—is exuberant. We saw thousands upon thous ands of cattle feeding upon it, but nowhere did it seem to be fed down. Much of the valley is overflowed in the winter, and a good deal of it is marshy al ways. The banks of the.river and the shores of the lake are very low. Toward the bor der of the valley the land is higher, and much of it is in cultivation. The crops gen erally are very fine. The wheat, just now in full head, promises a generous harvest. There are a good many plowmen now a-field, breaking up the soil to plant dhura, a coarse sort of grain that is used for feeding stock, and often also for bread. But what a feeble battle with theao rank weed.gt.he little above!:plows do make, drawn by single yoke of oxen, and they often very small. O for a plow worthy of the name, and a California team to draw it! What harvests might then be gathered 1 At about three o’clock p. m. we camped in the edge of the valley, on the bank of a beautiful stream, within two hundred yards of the point where it issues from the foot of the mountain. A small part of its waters run a little mill above our camp. I stepped from stone to stone across a part of the stream, which spreads over a wide bed of pebbles, and went in to inspect the work of the mill. It is a small, square, stone struc ture. Two sets of small stones were run ning, surrounded by a raised platform which occupies one side of the house. The top of the lower stone stood a little above the level of the platform. The upper stone was not surrounded by any casing. It was grinding dhura, the meal coming out upon the plat form all round the stones. As it accumu lated it was drawn by hand into a box like receptacle, which was sunk into the plat form. In one of these boxes which had been filled, a man was standing in the meal with his bare feet, scooping it out and put ting it in a sack. The miller gets about three cents a bushel, as nearly as I could understand it, for grinding, and pays a tax of five Napoleons (twenty dollars) a year for the privilege. When I left, the miller ac companied me to the edge of the stream having noticed that I had stepped from stone to stone rather totteringly, and offered me a ride on his back, which I accepted. Having been comfortably landed, I gave him three coppers, which, all taken together, were not quite of the value of one cent of our money. He accepted it with gratitude, and we parted. Think of the owner of a water-mill, glad to carry a man across the creek, not as an act of hospitality, but fir the fee, and that one cent! Poor fellow, he was in rags, and I doubt not that after his tax is paid, and re pairs of his mill provided for, there remains hut little for him and hU household. It grinds amazingly slow ; yet it is a great im provement over woman power, which is in v :ry general use from China to Syria. Nothing would do my two friends but they must bathe in Lake Merom, which was about two miles distant. I had little faith in the en‘erpri?e, for I felt sure, by the look of things, that the lake shore was a swamp. Being somewhat fatigued by the day’s ride, [ at first declined to accompany them, but, upou reflection, concluded to do so, lest they might require someone to pull them out of the mud. Before we were within a quarter of a mile of the shore, Brother Hendrix’s horse, which was in advance, began to sink so deep in the wet soil that Mr. Sampson and I paused. But Brother Hendrix, in trepid and eager for the bath, urged hi3 horse on —deeper, deeper, deeper. He had gone beyond the bounds of prudence, and soon discovered the fact. There wa3 a fine expression of solicitude in his eye as he turned and gazed toward terra firma. The solicitude must have gone down to his heels, for they plied the sides of his floundering steed very vigorously. I did really fear for a moment that the noble brute would not be able to get back. What ludicrous associ ations of ideas will sometimes obtrude them selves upon a man even in a critical moment. I thought of the Florida constable’s indorse ment on the writ: “Ad in swampum et non comalibus.” Did I smile? I hope that question will not be pressed. We were lulled to Bleep that night bv the musical monotone of the flowing confluent of the Jordan, on the very bank of which our tent had been pitched. The next morning, for some hours, our road lay along the western edge of the val ley, just aloug by the foot of the mountains. ThsASMy^A 0 our right was alive with Be uoui tfßßd k tnd cattle. Farther on, our road sd through two or three of these villages,. As this is the road taken by tour ists to Damascus, the children have picked up an English salutation. The little bare footed and bareheaded crowds, boys and girls, shouted to us as we passed, “Good morning 1 ” The demand for backshish, howevOtywas less clamorous than I expeeti and to hear Many of the men and women greeted^s pleasantly. They never failed to scold the dogs back when they rushed out at us as they aid constantly, and in a vpry fe rocious-manner. Two of our party rode up to tents, to look inside and in spect the furniture and general arrangement, when a woman, with eager hospitality, hast ened to. offer them a drink of buttermilk. One of them who drank of it pronounced it very de’irious. We soon reached the head of the main valley, an i. turning to the east, crossed some rocky points, and in an hour or two found the western branch of these upper a, which unite a few miles be low.a nd form the Jordan. We heard the flow ofilf waters before we saw them, ths stream being fringed by a line of heavy fo liage. Here the rosd turned to the left again, and we ascended the stream through a rocky gorge a mile or two, and then crossed it on a stone bridge. Here our dragom-m stopped to converse with a man we-met; and we passed on, ascending a steep hill over as ugly a piece of naked, rugged rock asst was ever my fortune fo encounter. Soon dragoman came up in great haste, and miwh excited. He had just been in formed 4-hat two days before the Bedouins had attacked and robbed a party at this very place.'***"' It wap our purpose to make a detour from the road here, in order to see the fountain in which this stream rises. But the drago man inijisted that, we should all remain to gether, and keep close to the luggage train. In thest war-times the 8.-douins were be coming Void, and committing many deproda datioav' We thought it prudent to follow his !?!*)£:. and so missed seeing this one of the “ of the Jordan ” —much to onr regret. As wh ascended the hill, Azeez was in front. Azeez was in charge of our lunch, and always accompanied us. He was an imperturbable man, though with an under current of good humor. Reaching the sum mit, he shouted, “Bedouins! Bedouins I ” and flonrighed his big pistol. Upon such an alarti our dragoman, who had fallen to the rear, felt duty-bound to gallop up. Alas for chivalry 1 I could not but contrast his bearing jit this moment with that we had witnessed in the sham fight at the Dead Sea. Then he was boiling over with courage, sat erect, aDd in defiant attitude, flourished his pistols, and dashed at the foe w’th furious speed. Now the feeble effort to look brave wa3 really ludicrous. His very horse gal loped slc-wly and hesitatingly, as if he were just ready to turn upon his heels, while he himself eat in the saddle with a drooped and pi'iful a pect, which comp’etely dispelled the illusion of the sham battle. I could never e/. ,-rward imagine that he had Ihe look of V*:*tV* : .|-foßdor,MV in a moment, to the level of ordinary mortals. All this upon a false alarm ; if the Bedouins had actually appeared, to what diminutive ness he might have shriveled I cannot guess. We were now in the foot hills of Mount Hermon, but they were only hills, and for the most part I might say undulations. Bsfore us were the middle and eastern branches of the Jordan. Toe sources of the Jordan are said to he in Mount Hermon, and so they are; hut that statement, if left unexplained, will give the reader a false impression. The three principal streams which come together above Lake Merom, and form the Jordan, come out from the ground near the foot of the mountain, at their full size. They do not grow by the confluence of rills upon the surface. On the contrary, the water of the mountains sinks through fissures in the rocks, is collected into considerable bodies underground, and, then flowing through clefts of the rock, or through beds of gravel, comes to the surface at the foot of the moun tain. These fountains are not so high up in the mountain as I had imagined. The western one is fairly up in the foot-hills, bnt the two others come out, the middle one where the valley begins to rise into rather hold undula tions, and the eastern just at the foot of the fi-st cliffs of the anti Lebanon range, which are here properly the cliffs of Mount Her mon. True, they are about 1,200 feet above Lake Merom, but the approach to them is over ground that rises so gradually as to be long rather to the plain than the mountain. As we looked down upon it from the first summits, the places where they rise have the appearance of being in the upper edge of the valley of Merom. Our road passed just to the north o F the head or fountain of the second or middle branch, and within a few yards of it. We rode to the very spot. The immediate point of its egress from the ground was so covered with shrubbery that it was concealed, but we saw the water as it emerged from the mass of foliage and flowed away. Near by was the site of the old city of Dan. It stood, not as I had had it pictured in my nhind, up in the mountains, but on ratlfer ufalight elevation in the unper reaches of the great plain. There is but little there now. The name of the modern village near by I do not remember. The situation is rather commanding, and the landscape mag nificent, and in many parts beautiful. The whole extent of the valley of Lake Merom is iu view on the south, the spurs of Mount Lebanon rise on the west, while the low ridge which divides Palestine from Coele- Syria stretches along on the north, and Hermon —Jebel Es Sheikh, the Prince of Mountains, as the natives proudly name him—with masses of snow scattered about upon his crest, towers up to the north-east. A goodly place those heroic Danites won for themselves at the very head of the river. Oor course lay now about due north east, crossing a ridge of unusual contour for this country. It, is a swell, lying north and south, and is covered with a scrubby growth of trees. I say covered, but to an American it will not seem so close set es that word implies. . Still it is the nearest approach to it to be found anywhere in this country. Having crossed this ridge we came upon the eastern branch of the Jordan, and fol lowed it a short way up to the base of the precipitous spurs of Lebanon, to the town of Banias—the Cesarea Philippi of the New Testament. The village lies at the base of the mountain. Springs break out on all sides, and flow off into the vallry in copious rivulets. Following the mountain eastward about a quarter of a mile you come to a sheer precipice of rock, at the base of which there ia a strip of level ground a few yards widoi from which an abrupt descent takes you down to the point where this branch ot the Jordau comes into the daylight. It does not burst out of a fissure in the rock all in one body, but flows copiously out of a bed of coarse pebbles. The line along which it flows out is perhaps fifty yards long, the first flow being over a wide space and very shallow. It is soon com pressed into a narrow channel, and rushes away headlong over a rapidly descending bed. The name of the west branch, the head of which we did not see, is Deriora—that of the midde, Little Jordan, and of the east, Banias. The principal one is the Little Jordan, and the second in magnitude is the Banias. But the Derdora comeß down from a higher point in the mountains than the two larger streams, which originate, as I have said, one of them quite in the open plain at the city of Dan, and the other at the foot of the mountain at Banias—that is, Cesarea Philippi We have no knowledge of our Lord’s hav ing evpr visited the city of Cesarea Philippi. Once he was in “the coasts,” that iB, in the neighborhood, of it—and this was very near the end of his life. Here Peter made, for himself and the twelve, the formal confes sion, “Thou art the Christ,, the Son of the living God,” receiving the answer “Thou art Peter, and on this rock will I build my Church, and the gates of hell shall not pre vail against it.” This was said, no doubt, amid the spurs and rocks of Hermon. Only six days later he wa3 transfigured in a “high mountain,” perhaps one of the mountains of this very cluster. At any rate, imme li ately after that great event he made his last journey to Jerusalem to be offered up—go ing down on the east side of the river, which h recrossed only a few miles above the Dead Sea, and taking Jericho in the way, where he healed the blind man, and brought salvation to the house of Zaccheus. So that his visit to this extreme northern part of Galilee was just on the eve of his death, as was also the great confession of the apos tles. The question occurred to me : “Was there any special meaning in this, that the formal and solemn proclamation oftheMes siah-ihip of J-sus was made at the very ex tremity of the Holy Land, and on the bor ders of the Gentile world?” Why should he wander up here into this region, on the great, highway of the nations, for this solemn transaction ? Was it the yearning of his heart toward the world? Did he stand hy 'he partition -wall at that supreme moment, that his word might it down ? Was he showing his disciples already the way to Antioch —to Damascus —to the world? Along the very road bv which our Lord “came into the coasts of Cesarea Philippi,” Saul of Tarsus must have gone on his way toward Damascus, with “letters from the chief priests,” on the occasion of that, mo mentous journey, when, having come near to the end of it, a glory which exceeded that of the transfiguration smote him blind tha’ his eyes might be opened lo behold the “true light which lighteth every man that cometh into the world,” and felled him to the earth that he might, rise to the dignity of the sons of God. Our tent at Cesarea Philippi stood at the I; jrt nf N-, *, wtjob 'VAvfo.i of an old castle. There is a circuitons route hy which they may be reached on horse back ; but as our guide book informed us that we could make the ascent in an hour on foot, Brother Hendrix and I concluded to let our horses rest, and so we started ou* with a guide on foot, accompanied by Mr. Sampson on a little donkey, he having been lamed by a kick from a horse some days be fore. We wound our way round and round, at a painful angle upward all the while, for a full hour and a half, when, to our dismay, coming suddenly round a point, the peak on which the castle stands came in sight, and we saw it rising like another mountain still above us. But perseverance, etc. An inscription points to the thirteenth century as the date of some of the work done here. It was probably repaired or enlarged at that time, but there can be little doubt that the foundations were laid in the old Roman times. Portions of the entire wall are standing, and in some places they are still very high. The rocks of which it waß built are very massive ; many of them would weigh several tons each. Perhaps they were obtained in fl ittening the summit of the mountain for the building. It seems almost impossible that they should have been brought up this mountain ; but the Cyclopean labors of the ancients are so numerous and so stupendous that one comes to be prepared after a while, to believe almost anything in this line. This was a fortification of immense strength, both on account of the difficulty of approach, and the impregnable character of the walls. An amount of stone has fallen from them sufficient to cumber the whole brow of the mountain, and yet in some places they are still twenty five or thirty feet high. Not only the thickness of the wall, but the great size of the individual stones, rendered it exceedingly s’rong. It covers the whole area of the summit, which was probably cut down and flattened for it—and from the wall the angle of descent is so sharp that no en gines could have been planted within reach of it so that it was unassailable by ha'tering ram or catapult. Immense reservoirs of water are s anding in it, so that it, seem3 to have been well supplied in that respect. Nothing hut -tarvation could have overcome a garrison ojc tpying it. We clambered to the top of a tower near the south west corner, which raises its shat tered head above the rest of the ruins, where we sat and gaz°d out-for the last time upon Lake Merom and its beautiful valley, framed by mountains on all sides. From this ele vation we saw quite a number of small lakes in the valley, above Lake Merom. The level sun was almost ready to disappear beyond the ridges of the Lebanon, which were al ready casting their shadow over half the val ley. The effect of the shading was very fine. It was one of those scenes in which nature seems to take on an aspect of beauty beyond its wont —when the inner secrets of things come out upon the surface, and God affixes his sign-manual and seal upon his works. The moment, too, was auspicious. We three who sat together on that shattered throne of the god of war had been for a month following the footprints of the Pince of Peace, and were now looking for the last time upon the regions made memorable by his presence while he was in the flesh. No wonder if we were in a subjective condi tion which made us in a higher degree recipi ent of divine meanings in nature. My last look upon Jerusalem from Scopus, upon the Lake of Galilee from the moun tains to the northward of it, and upon the upper valley and the sources of the Jordan from the ruined castle of Banias, constitute a series of experiences for which I can never cease to praise God. But the visitor of the Holy Land must not come expecting to find its beauty such as will answer to his expectations or sentiments. Much of the country is a mere stretch of bar ren, rocky hills. There are not wanting many visitors who see little or no beauty anywhere. To my eye there are many beau tiful landscapes; yet many parts of America afford far richer scenery. We see Palestine in the light of a religious feeling before we visit it, and this divine radiance constitutes a medium through which all appears in an unreal coloring. The effect of an actual vis it is diverse in different individuals. In some the prepossession of religious sentiment is so strong, and occupies the imagination so completely, aB to project itself upon all they see—so that to them the very desert becomes a paradise of beauty, every moun tain glows in the light of another transfigur ation, the poorest and mo3t naked landscape is transformed, and where there is a leal beauty—as there often is—it appears a very para iise, anew Jerusalem coming down from God out of heaven. In others, less under the dominion of their prepossessions, there is a sudden disenchantment. Jerusalem they have seen a hundred cities more beauti ful, and with more beautiful surroundings. Even the Mount of Olives suffers in compar ison with the hills they rambled over in childhood. The most beautiful valleys here are yet not so lovely as those they have seen in Virginia or Kentucky. The Sea of Gali lee itself disappoints them. In the revulsion of feeling which follows they are unable to preceive the beauties that would otherwise be apparent. God did not select this region as the home of his chosen people on account of its beau ty. The seats of the tabernacle and of the temple were not selected upon any grounds of natural superiority. The local background of divine manifestations was matter of no consi qupnee. Perhaps it were better tba f it should not be in any high degree attrac tive. The glory of the Shekinah must be all its own. Revelation must run no risk of beingoverlooked and disregarded through the too great interests of its natural setting, lest the glory of the Creator should be trans ferred to the creature; nor yet must it be exposed to the danger of a sensuous degen eration through a too vital connection with scenes of physical enchantment. The true interest of all this country is in its history, though a man in sympathy with nature will see much in the aspects of both the mountains and valleys to admire. Those who fail to do so are persons of local tastes, who can appreciate only a given style, and are quite incapable of a broader interest, either in art or nature, than that which at taches to objects conforming to their type. The man of deep insight and true sympathy —the genuine lover of nature —who is open to all that comes to him in its multiform dis closures, will find a real pleasure here, even aside irom the main purpose of his visit. But it is, after all, because Jerusalem was the city of holy solemnities, and the place where Jesus suffered ; because the taberna c!e was in Shiloh, and Samuel judged Israel there; because onr Lord sailed upon the waters of the Lake of Galilee, and called his chief disciples from among its fishermen; and becausp that in t*“ nasts of Cesarea PY.'.fofo foJwa: ft Bp) 1 11H ft Led .... Son of the living God, that we take any special and deep interest in these places, and come from the ends of the earth to see them. E. M. Marvin. Off Larnaka, Cyprus, May 2, 1877. PRAY FOR PREACHERS. Without the special help and blessing of God their labors are in vain. Paul may plant, Apollos water, but God alone can give the increase. The greatest learning, the most fervid eloquence, the most breath less zeal, the longest patience, cannot con vert a soul, or sanctity one that has begun to seek the heavenly way. In this sphere of labor the Spirit of God is the workman. Men may be co workers with God, hut the praise all belongs to the Holy Spirit. His influences, the most precious gift that God has for man, are not bestowed unsought. Without prayer, therefore, the labor of re ligious teachers is thrown away. The first duty of their congregation is to ask God’s blessing upon their instructions. Ministers need prayer for their own Bakes. Their position is a peculiar one, their temp tations are peculiar. Their lot is indeed the happiest on earth, and their rewards the greatest that can be offered lo any. Their aims are the purest in the world. Yet, withal, they are exposed to peculiar dangers and perils, to which no other class is subject. The very esteem for which they are held for their work's sake is itself a peril, for there is no more subtle foe than spiritual pride. ‘ Brethren, pray for us, that the word of God may have free course and bs glorified.” GOD MY PEACE. “It is not one and the same thing, my friends, to say, ‘God gives me peace,’ and to say, ‘God is my peace.’ If God gives me peace the proud waves of my soul subside, the storm is allayed, the conflagration is ex tinguished, a still small voice breathes through my spirit, and the spices diffuse their precious odors in my garden. But if the tempest should range in the firmament of my animal soul; if it should thunder and lighten in all directions; if conscience ac cuse, the flesh be rebellious, my thoughts reproach me, and the firery darts of the wicked one be hurled through my spirit; if I am troubled on every side yet not dis tressed, perplexed but not in despair ; if lift ed in the chariot of faith above the tumult I hold fast by the glorious sufferings of my Lord; if I save myself by the recollection that He is the God, Yea and Amen, keeping covenant with a thousand generations; and if 1 lay up the weather-worn and shattered bark of my mind in that haven of faith the free grace of God, casting anchor under the rocky shelter of the unchangeable promises —then, yes, then Jehovah is my peace 1” — Krummac.her. Doing God’s Wii.i. —When prayer, love, faith, watching, fasting, and all those other exercises of virtue which are the proper or naments and fair fruits of the soul, are join ed with the communion of the Spirit, they then send forth a rich and grateful odor, like frankincense cast into the tire; and then it becomes easy to walk uniform'y in the will of God. But, without the Holy Spirit, it is impossible for any one to comprehend His will. And as a woman before she is joined in marriage to a husband, lives ac cording to her own mind, and follows her own will; but, when both are made one, she lives wholly under him as her head, and ceases to behold all things with reference to herself alone; in like manner the soul, though has its own will, its own rules, and its own actions, yet when it has been ac counted worthy to be united to Christ, be comes subjected to the rules of the Bride groom, and no longer follows its own will, bat only that ol Christ, F. M. KENNEDY, D. I)., Editor J. W. BURKE, Assistant Editor A. G. HAYGOOI), D. D., Editorial Correspondent WHOLE NUMBER 2067 MISCEIAAXKA. —The London Missionary Society has this vear fallen behind its collections nearly S2O 000. —The Tablet estimates the Catholic im migration to New York during the past thir ty years at 2 800,000. —Twenty Baptist churches have been or ganized among the Creek Indians. Nearly all have Indian pastors. —The London Hospital Sunday fund has reached the sum of £26,300. The amount received last year was about £I,OOO larger. —John Wesley’s sermons, in the course of his mini.-try, amounted to 40,560 ; Mr. White field’s to 18 000, and Rowland’s Hill’s to 23 000. —The new Methodist hymn hook, which will be issued hy the M. E. Church, some time within the.nextsix months, will contain 1,150 hymns. About one third of these are new hymns,—the others selected from the old book. —We cannot walk in two ways at the same time. We cannot follow our own will and the will uf God. We must*choos3 the one or the other. We must deny God’s will to follow our own, or we must deny self and self will to follow the will of God. —A tourist in search of natural curiosities in O leida county, coming to a small stream, looked over his memorandum and a*ked a Dutchman near hy if “this was Alder Creek?” “Yaw,” was the reply, “dis vasall dercreek vas I knows abuut yust round here.” Havli is no w an open field for every kind of Christian effort. The Department of S ate has received from the United States Minister to Haytia di.patch relative to reli gious toleration there, which, has been gradually becoming more and more deeply rooted in its institutions during the past few years. —The University of Tubingen will cele hrate this year the 400th anniversary ol its existence. It was founded hy Count Eber hard im Bart, now best known through Up land’s poems. Uhland, who was a native of Tubingen, also occupied a chair at the uni versity. The University of Upaal will also celebrate shortly its 4001 h anniversary. —Among the speakers at the anniversary of the Church Missionary Society in England was Bishop Cro wther, of Africa, a man of pure negro blood. He gave a hopeful ac count of the progress and prospects of the West African missions, and made a pleasing impression. He is visiting E igland to raise money with which to buy a steamer for use in visiting the river stations ol his extensive diocese. —At the next triennial convention of the Protestant Episcopal Church, soon to be held, the subject of a change of the name of the Church will come up for consideration. The question has been submitted to the an uual conventions, some of which have voted for, and some against a change. The sub stitutes proposed are “The American Branch of the Church Catholic,” and “The Church in America.” —The Churchman of New York states that “a zealous hand proposes to open (in the triennial convention) the whole clothes business, in all its length and breadth and branches.” He asks: “What sort, of a col li.r-t ehpnldV'* tra;.-’'-* to s!.--> *hr --in, ;> t ot style and color, shape and texture, longi tude and width of sleeves and skirt, of gown and snrplice, cope, chasuble, and alb, to say nothing of scarf and stole?” We cannot an swer. Perhaps Herr Tuyfolsdroch could tell. —What progress h ,ve I made in holiness since I professed to be a Christian? I am taught that sanctification is a progressive work. I am taught that Christ’s kingdom in tha individual sou! has a development. How much more am 1 like Christ now than I was years ago? How much better pre pared am I now for heaven th-n then? A pilgrim, during the year referred to, surely should have made a perceptible advance to ward his journey’s end. I know that I am nearer the grave, but am I any nearer heav en? Am I any better prepared for heaven! Dr. Clark, Secretary of the American Board, writes in the Observer that with the exception of the Eaki Sag lira station in Bul garia, and of Erzsronm, Bittes, and Van, and their out-stations, the work had not been influenced to any great extent. In Eastern Turkey only the Northern part has been dis turbed, while more interest than usual has been manifested in other parts of all the mis sions of the Board in Turkey. The Turkish authorities have been very careful to do every thing in their power to protect missionary families, and have also warned the Moslem population, through the mosques, to forbear all violence and ill treatment tovard the Christians. —DeWitt Talmage says : “ One of the greatest trials ot the newspaper profession is that its members are compelled to see moie of the shams of the world than any other profession. Through every newspaper offi je, day after day, go ah the weaknesses of the world; ail the vanities that want to be pulled; ail the revenges that want to be to be tho ight eloquent; all the meanness that wants to get its wares noticed gratis in the editorial columns in order to save the tax of the advertising columns ; all the men who want to be set right who were neverright; all the crack-brained philo sophers with stories as long as their hair, and as gloomy as thir finger-nails in mourn ing because berifc of soap— all the bores who come to stay five minutes but talk five hours reaped ; all ihe mistakes that want to be corrected ; all the dull speakers that want Through the editorial and reportori .1 rooms, all the follies and shams of the world are seen day after day, and the temptation is to believe in neither God, man nor woman. It is no surprise to me that in this profession ihere are some skeptical men; I only wonder that journalists believe anything.” —The Famine is Ixiha. —The editor of the Madras Times, who is a member ot the relief committee, writes under date of August 1. as follows: The population in Southern India more or less afflicted by famine, num bers 24 000 000. lu the most favorable cir cums'ances at least one-sixth of the popula tion will die. The (amine is immeasurably geeater than was that in Bengal. Twenty-three people, in all, died of starvation in Bengal. In Madras, no camp of 3 000 rises morning after morning without leaving thirty corpses. In the interior the distress is most f earful. One gnntleman passing down a valley in the Wynaad district counted twenty-nine dead bodies on the road. A coffee-planter, seek ing shelter from the rain, in a hut, found six decomposing corpses in it. On auy day, and everyday, mothers may be seen in the streets of Madras offering their children for sale, while the foundling portion of the poor house is full of infants found by the police on the roads, deserted by their p'arents. Since the famine commenced 500,000 people have died of want and distress. Toe first big tragedy may be expected in Mysore. In that prov ince, indeed, information has reached me from Bangalore of two cases of cannibalism already,