From the traces of ruined walls in and around the present village it seems highly probable that the place was once the site of a populous and flourishing city of many thousand inhabitants, perhaps in early Phoenician times, when Baal or Bel was alike worshipped from Assyria to Phoenicia, and when caravans of travelling merchants made Baalbek and perhaps Palmyra, whose ruins lie two or three days march to the eastward, notable places of call.

Of the three principal temples, portions have been built at very distant periods. Some think that King Solomon, son of David, had something to do with them, and that the place is identical with Baalgad or Baalath, in the north of Dan. But Dr. Thomson, author of the "Land and the Book," who

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ten cubits," or from twelve to fifteen feet in length, and was built for Pharaoh's daughter, whom Solomon had married.

The magnificent fluted columns, with their Corinthian capitals, which look so small and graceful in the distance and so stupendous when one stands under them, are probably not much anterior to the times of the Seleucidæ or of Alexander the Great. Some of the broken pieces of these columns which lie scattered in the temple area, as if from an earthquake shock, measure ten or eleven feet in diameter, and yet so tall and graceful are the pillars that one might guess they were but half the size..-The Roman Emperor Septimius Severus built, a temple here to the sun, or perhaps reconstructed the then

inclines to this view, admits that there is little to support it but Moslem tradition and the absence of any other Baalath to account for the site, though it is quite possible this may have been the site of the "House of the forest of Lebanon " described in 1 Kings vii. 2-5, 8-12, which, though mostly built of cedar, had "foundation stones of eight cubits and

that the interstices are scarcely perceptible. In the plain to the south of the city are extensive remains of ancient edifices in the same style, dating, it is thought, from the times of Manco Capac in the 12th century, if not earlier. It is difficult to imagine how such massive stones, though very far inferior in size and weight to those in Baalbek, could have been removed from the quarries and placed in the walls without the aid of powerful machinery, which when Pizarro conquered the country in 1544, the Peruvians do not appear to have possessed.

existing ones, in the year A.D. 200; but whether the present noble pillars formed the peristyle of his with so temple does not clearly appear, little accuracy has the early history of the place been preserved. The city was sacked by the Moslems in A.D. 748, and probably suffered much at their hands, as they had little reverence for grand temples, or architecture of any kind that differed from their own. But from the position in which some of the fallen and half fallen columns are found, and the different descriptions of travellers in modern times, it is evident that earthquakes have donc much to destroy these ancient edifices.

Moslem cupidity, however, has been at work, and recently, for not a few of the noble columns are half cut through at the base to obtain the lead and iron

with which they were fastened to the pedestals. Some attention has, however, been paid lately by some French savants to preserve the ruins from further dilapidations, and a window or door at one end of the larger temple has been partly walled up to support the handsomely-carved key-stone, or capital of a central column, which had been displaced by an earthquake. To note lesser dangers, the wall at the opposite end was, I observed, all but covered as high as hands could reach with names, some carved, others painted or written in Greek, Roman, Hebrew and Arabic letters, showing that this vulgar practice of defacing noted places and objects of interest is not confined to the English or American visitors, as some have alleged. Above these, writ large with chalk, in a lady's angular handwriting, stood the pungent rebuke-"Les noms des ânes partout se trouvent."

Beneath the larger temples are extensive subterranean passages or arched corridors, in which the Roman soldiers once found a cool retreat from the scorching glare and fiery heat of Syrian sunshine. And so little have the walls been injured in this part of the structures that the numbers of the legions or companies, though only daubed on with pigment, and not cut in, are in some cases almost as distinct and plain as when the Roman soldiery waked up these arches with their social merriment; while an old fort erected by the Moslems, ages later, is falling into ruin. There is but little inducement to the unenterprising inhabitants to make stone quarries of these ruins, as the Italians formerly did of the Coliseum at Rome, and it seems probable that with a little care, which they will well repay, and ought to have, these stupendous ruins will yet remain for ages to come the mysterious monuments of ancient idolatry, enterprise, art, and grandeur. And while the archæologist and the antiquary may pore over the teachings of the ruins, the statesman and the warrior may read in their surroundings the important lessons of preserving a country's forests, no less than its peasantry, from destruction, and thereby securing the blessings of peace, prosperity, and plenty to a smiling land. Oxford.

WE

W. B. KEER.

PARIS UNDER THE COMMUNE. E have been favoured with the perusal of a private journal kept during the siege of Paris, and the subsequent reign of terror under the Commune. We extract some passages relating to the period of Easter, 1871:

Good Friday! The artillery might be heard booming the whole of the day. Crowds of sight-seers pursued their way up the Champs Elysées to the Arc de Triomphe, stopping now and then as the bursting of some shell cast its lightninglike flash over Neuilly, and toward evening people were scampering in all directions as the combat

drew nearer and nearer.

Yesterday the walls of Paris were covered with coloured placards convening the citizens in order to attempt some mode of conciliation, to-day the bill-stickers themselves are under arrest and the authors of the documents prosecuted.

We attended the twelve o'clock service at Ternes Chapel. The audience comprised a dozen people, and no pastor being present I read the fifth chapter of the Revelation, and drew special attention to the sixth verse. In the evening on our return to the same chapel I was accompanied by Mrs. D. and Louis The latter gave a few tracts to patriots returning from the scene of strife, when suddenly she was separated from us and lost to sight. In vain do we seek for her on all sides--has she forestalled us at the chapel, having passed us in the dark? We hasten thither. But she is not there, and the place is not prepared; the concierge did not expect any one. Whilst the lamps are being lighted we resume our search for the missing one, but in vain. The people begin to come in. Mrs. D. returns home, whilst I remain and give out a hymn telling of the grace of Jesus, remarking how blessed and full of comfort the thought that He knows us each by name, is perfectly acquainted with our position and our present occupation too. What perfect peace takes possession of our hearts when we have conmitted our every interest, every possession, each loved one into his hands! Then everything which may seem to be against us proves most conducive to our welfare, since all things work together for good to them that love God. This was peculiarly precious to me as I thought of Louise's disappearance, but no one present knew anything of that circumstance. At that moment heavy footsteps might be heard on the stairs accompanied by a gentle rattle of arms. The door opened, and the concierge's voice exclaimed :

"Miss B., here are some gentlemen who wish to speak with you."

I accordingly begged the little company to do their best to edify themselves until my return. I went out, closing the door behind me. As soon as I came to the landing I found myself face to face with a patriot under arms and a civilian who handed me a stamped paper (as a token of their authority) requesting me at the same time to follow them at once.

"How delightful!" I exclaimed; "you are going to take me to the friends I have been seeking for the last half-hour!"

They made no reply, and I had to march on between them at a quick pace through the dark streets of Ternes as far as the corner of the Rue Laugar. The patriot on guard called out: "Come in!"

I opened the door and found myself in the presence of some ten national guards. An inner door gave entrance to the commissaire-général, a woman who looked considerably like the "Mère Duchêne,” and Louise, who in a moment sprang into my arms. The commissaire asked me if I knew anything of her and of her papers which she had been giving away-"Ils sont venus" (a tract for the times).

"Yes," I answered, "I helped her to give it away."

"There is no harm in it-on the contrary; but you had better keep it to yourselves and your party." But what about liberty?" said I.

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He then ordered us to be set at liberty. And we re free! Once more we hasten to Rue Demour to lose the service. As we proceeded thither Louise was able to tell me what had happened to her.

A drunken patriot had seized upon her while his comrades were receiving the papers, and in spite of heir remonstrances, he insisted upon dragging her by the cloak. "Calotin!" he exclaimed (a term of contempt for any religious order).

"Nay, gentlemen," said Louise, "I am a Swiss Protestant. There is nothing Calotin' in this; let me read it to you; listen," and there, under a street lamp, she read aloud, "Ils sont venus.'

They listened to the end. Most of the men wished to let her go, but the intoxicated citizen would not let go his hold, and she was led to the police-station, where she was interrogated, and searched to her very stockings by the woman, and threatened to be sent forthwith to the Prefecture!

She said, "I am very hungry, will you not give me some food first?"

"To-morrow you'll get something to eat," they replied.

Then the commissaire read the paper aloud, whilst those present followed the perusal with the copies which Louise had given them.

From what she told me, their moral and literary criticisms must have been most amusing, but God permitted that they should pronounce it perfect; but a guarantee was needful, so she mentioned my name. Then the woman became more amiable, and how the matter ended you already know.

April 8, 1871.

This morning we were awakened by the bursting of shells, one of which struck the Arc de Triomphe, and several have fallen around whilst I write, five P.M. They are still bursting with loud reports on this side of the Arc; but the large houses on the right, which interrupt our view of the Avenue on that side, prevent us from seeing them, not from receiving them, however, for one has now fallen in the street just opposite our house; we rush to the window, and there is an ugly little ball which the concierge has picked up and immersed in a pail of water; it made a hole in the wall opposite.

How strange this total absence of fear in our minds and hearts! Each one is engaged in his own pursuits; there is nothing like being brought actually into the presence of danger and, at the same time, into the presence of the Lord. Emotion there doubtless must be, but no fear. In the Champs Elysées may be seen sitting a young and beautiful cantinière, busily employed; whilst hard by, patriots awaiting the call to arms are beguiling the time by a game of pitch and toss. In a moment they are all off! What a struggle! And they should be brethren! Oh! what spirits out of the bottomless pit possess them! Poor fellows, how one's heart loves and pities them, and yet-Cain, Cain on both sides! The Versailles shells excite violent indignation against the Government. The cry "Murder!" is heard on all sides.

.. We go to the Rue Roquépine, and find the Rev. W Gibson has returned with his family and five children. He joyfully approved of French prayer-meetings, which we are endeavouring to organise for each evening of the coming week. There is no French Wesleyan Minister in Paris

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for the moment. All effort must therefore be individual. Our next visit is to Rev. and Mrs. Forbes, who have returned to Paris, leaving their family in England. The other evening, three hundred patriots slept upon the pavement in front of their house. At midnight, in the lovely moonlight, Mr. and Mrs. Forbes distributed text-books among them. Mr. Forbes' hands were grasped, and numerous cries of "Vive le Pasteur Protestant were raised; but one of the band, who had taken too much liquor, shrieked, "I forbid those books to be distributed." And his musket was then aimed at Mrs. Forbes (Mrs. Forbes had re-entered the house for a fresh supply of tracts). She stedfastly looked at him, and endeavoured to reason with him; but he only replied, "You must go with me to the head of the battalion. Come! Forward! March!"

A patriot flew to Mrs. Forbes' side, and exclaimed, "Pray do not resist, madame! In the condition he is in, he might shoot you! I will walk beside you!"

She advanced, therefore, her adversary behind, with his musket ready to go off at the slightest

movement.

Turning round her head, she said, "Citizen, I had much rather have you by my side!

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Well, take my arm, then!" said he.

Thus the danger was turned away from her, and she began to warn him of his danger and of his need of forgiveness and comfort and strength, supposing he were to be struck down. The man was evidently softened, and on arriving on the Place Wagram, he disappeared, and Mrs. Forbes was free to return to her home.

She informed me that her husband had gone today to see the Archbishop of Paris at Mazas. The permission granted was thus worded: "The Commune authorize the citizens, Forbes and N., to visit the prisoner Darboy." The details I shall know

to-morrow.

April 9, Easter Sunday.

At six A.M. armed patriots are assembling in our street and in those adjacent, some of them are cooking their soup in our court-yard. We read the ninetyfirst Psalm with such a sense of safety as is perfectly marvellous. Then I went down to distribute pictures and tracts to neighbours under arms. They receive them with shouts of laughter, and almost fight to see which shall obtain them. Then we go to Ternes by the Faubourg Saint-Honoré. The whole quarter is astir, shells are falling; we saw one burst in the Avenue de la Grande Armée, it sent up a white smoke into the air. I feel precisely as I do in a storm, thunderbolts may fall, but our Father holds them in his hand, and consequently his children know no fear! We then proceeded to the Chapel Rue Royale where Pastor Blane spoke delightfully of the resurrection of Jesus, after which I was able to be present at the close of the English service in the church of the Rue d'Agues

seau.

By way of prudence we went to Roquepine to ask, in case of our own house becoming untenantable either from shells or the invasion of armed men, whether we could lodge for a few days in the vacant apartment of an absent pastor. This was speedily granted, and Mr. Gibson told me to invite Mr. Forbes also, whose house is likewise in a more exposed position. We went on purpose and had the gratification of hearing the following.

The stock of provisions forwarded by the Lord Mayor of London is not exhausted; every member of the Committee, however, is out of Paris, and its President, the Archbishop of Paris, is in prison; it was therefore indispensable that the last-named should be seen and consulted respecting their continued distribution and the account to be given respecting it in London. When Mr. F. and his friend were ushered into the cell, where they could only speak to the prisoner through an iron grating, they protested against such treatment being used towards the Archbishop, and succeeded in obtaining a room with a table, four chairs, pens, ink, and paper. As soon as the prisoner was admitted, Mr. Forbes immediately said how desirous he felt to express his sympathy under so great a trial, and to assure him that many prayers were going up to God for him. The prelate seemed much moved and said that their visit had been like a ray of sunshine to him in his captivity; he gave them a few well-written lines expressive of gratitude. The business being settled, the prisoner said that if his life were spared he hoped to have the pleasure of seeing them again.

We seem to have no armed men opposite to us; all the fighting appears to be taking place towards Auteuil. We have heard no shells burst since six o'clock. Just as we had prepared to go out, our candle extinguished, there is a knock at the door, and the concierge's daughter announces a National Guard. Quickly a match relights the candle. "Come in, citoyen; what can I do for you?" "Do you know Louise B. ?"

"Yes, very well."

"Is she a Protestant?"

"Yes, like myself."

"That's what the concierge told us."

"Look here; will you swear that you are a Protestant; we have been so deceived ?"

I raised my hand: "Before the Lord who hears me, I do repeat that I am a Protestant, and Louise B. too."

"Ah! I am glad of that; she gave us some books which we supposed to come from the Calotins, but we read them and found them to be similar to some we had received at the Exhibition, and so we would not take her to the police station. Tell me, didn't you have these books at the Exhibition ?"

I replied in the affirmative, at the same time directing his attention to a large picture of President Lincoln on the table, stating that we had printed that picture there.

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Ah! don't you see we are warring against Catholics; we won't have either Calotins or Pope!" "Citoyen, you only need Jesus Christ."

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Well, madame, I am very glad."

I held out my hand, which he grasped; it went to my very heart.

We all went downstairs, and there in the courtyard stood our dear Louise B. guarded by two patriots. After a little consultation, enriched with plenty of sayings from Père Duchêne, she was liberated. I sent Louise up for a few "Successeurs du Pape," which they joyfully received.

"He is not a king, is he?" said one of them. "You see we are so ignorant, and we have been so frequently deceived."

"No," said I; "read the paper and you will catch my idea."

I thanked them for their sense of equity which had

N the churchyard of the beautiful watering place of Charmouth, near the wester verge of Dorset, there stands a large old-fashioned " altar-tomb," surrounded with iron rails, just by the north wall of the church. There is very little to attract and please the eye at first sight in the pile of stonework, which looks out rather sadly from its prison of thick bars, and shows by its moss-grown and illjointed state that it has long ceased to How be the object of loving care. could it be otherwise? Since the last coffin was laid beneath it, full eighty years have passed.

But the letters cut on the old stones are deep and and legible, in the clear strong type of that time; the words are well worth reading. There, after eighty years, in this quiet corner of a most quiet region, stands recorded a history of human agony and of Divine mercy, which was once watched, assuredly, with love and at last with great joy by the angels of God, and by their Master.

On the near end of the tomb, facing the pathway, we read the name of "James Warden, Esq., who fell in a duel, the 28th of April, 1792, in the fiftysixth year of his age." We read further, on the north side of the tomb, that he was "created Lieutenant of his Majesty's Navy in 1760, and was in nineteen engagements during the memorable expedition against the French Fleet under the gallant Hawke," and that "on the commencement of hostilities with America he voluntarily came forward to offer his services, and was in the number of those who first landed the British Grenadiers on that shore. After escaping the various dangers inseparable from his profession, he had the misfortune to experience the untimely end above mentioned." Then follow four stanzas, in the genuine style of their period:

"Dear victim of imperious Honour's laws,

Those impious laws inexorably stern,
Whose horrors Friendship views with shuddering pause,
And love connubial shall for ever mourn;

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"Lamented victim, if th' unbodied Mind
Aught of the world it left should haply know,
And watch with tenderest sympathy refined
The friends it loved, the scenes it prized, below;

“What pleasures, mixed with sadness, must be thine
To see thy own Eliza's faithfull tears,
Profusely bathing the memorial shrine

Which to thy name unfeigned affection rears.

“Adieu, in one alarming moment torn

By ruffian rage from her thy soul held dear;

Untill the dawning of that awfull morn

When the roused dead their Saviour's voice shall hear."

How

We

omb. On the other we hear more of the desolated Eliza," left a widow by that miserable duel. nay be thankful that, in our country at least, this orm of murder has been put down by improved ublic opinion and Christian feeling. We will copy vord for word the legend of the other side.

"Sacred to the memory also of Elizabeth Newell Warden, relict of the aforenamed Lieutenant James Warden; who, after lingering upwards of six years, t length put off her mortal part, wasted with Dining sickness, to be clothed upon with immortality, on the eleventh day of June, 1798, in the fortyeighth year of her age.

"After seeking to forget her sorrows in the gay World, its vanities and follies, refusing to kiss the rod, she at length found (a few days only before her departure) in a precious Saviour, that Rest unto her soul which she had long, but in vain, sought to find in Pleasure's delusive scenes, and died, a happy instance of the Redeemer's grace, love, and power; even in the near view of dissolution exulting, with an air of holy triumph: O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory? Thanks, thanks be to God, which giveth me the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.' (1 Cor. xv. 55, 57.)"

Such is the other side of the stone. We may, if we please, find fault with some phrases, but they are in the style of the time, the language of Hervey's "Aspasio," and of Hervey's own most blessed and radiant hour of death. But can we really stop to think of the style, unless, indeed, the more to realise the unchangeableness of Him who is the same yesterday and to-day, rich unto all that call upon Him? We know very little about this widowed woman, save that she went through one of the lowest depths of human anguish, and went through it in the dark, and that she struggled against the after grief in a long effort of blind resolution-on the wrong track; and that at last, in those dark hours (and in that age so poor in spiritual light) the Lord Jesus met her in the way, and then and there gave her pardon, rest, and heaven. We know nothing of her but this; we can but dimly call up the outer surroundings of that dying-bed of the old days. But the Shepherd of souls knew, and knows, it all. And we, as we kneel to trace out the words that speak of Him, seem to know Him the better in His shepherd-love, and to understand somewhat less faintly what is the power of that love over the extremest needs and griefs of the weary soul, and what the great "gathering together unto Him from the graves will be another day.

H. C. G. MOULE, M.A.

OW interesting it is to think of that Teacher and of those teachings! Never before were Moses and the Prophets so expounded, never was such a flood of light poured upon the plans and Well might the hearts of the favoured disciples burn within them, as they saw how the glorious One had walked upon the dark waters of time, through all the ages of their people's history, making Himself known dimly, in type and parable, and prophecy, which they were now enabled to interpret, though as yet, by some strange blindness, their "eyes were holden that they should not know him."

We are almost inclined to envy those much privileged men, and to wish that we too could have heard the Scriptures thus opened; but let us remember that if Christ Himself is not here to teach His people, His promised Spirit is always with His church to take of the things that are His, and show them unto us; and in the gift poured out on the disciples at Pentecost an Interpreter was given, who not only opens the Scriptures, but opens the eyes and the heart to receive them. Through His blessed teaching, Moses and the prophets are made to give up their treasures to the humble and believing heart. By that Spirit the Lord points to type and prophecy, and says, "Behold, it is I!" The Pascal Lamb, the scapegoat, the mercy-seat, the high priest himself, are all seen as "figures of the true." The promised "Shiloh," the Root and Branch of David, the "Prophet like unto Moses," the King "fairer than the children of men," the "Hope of Israel," the "Messiah the Prince," all these, and many more words of prophecy, are only understood when the Lord opens them to the heart, and opens the heart to receive them, as "things concerning Himself."

Two Lives.

NOT like to Martha who her household skill,
And "many things" of this poor life preferr'd,
Nor yet alone like her who sat and heard
Thy thoughts unfold in each inspirèd word,
Would I be, oh! my Saviour!-I would still
Blend either spirit, should'st Thou deem it meet.
Lest life's short day unprofitably close

I would be working Martha-wise for those
For whom such labour in this world were sweet;
And by my toil secure the blest repose
Which Mary won in silence at Thy feet!

And yet Thy will, not mine. If Thou should'st send
Me contemplation as the fittest part,
With hands unfit for labour, and a heart
Too eager for the "many things," I bend
To Thy decree. Or if Thy love extend
My usefulness, and I can rarely sit

At Thy dear feet, oh! do Thou, Saviour, fit
My spirit for the lot Thou dost assign
And crucify my stubborn will to Thine.

E. 8. Y.