not equal it," referring to one of the earth's most precious objects, a gem of the highest value.

3. The emerald, with Levi's name, and the fourth in the Revelation, its Hebrew word signifying to lighten or glitter. This stone has a grass-green colour, possessing a double refraction, rare, valuable, and uncommonly beautiful. Formerly it was found only in Upper Egypt, but now also in South America. This green colour adorned the rainbow seen by St. John around the throne of God, the beautiful symbol of Divine grace and mercy.

4. The ruby, having Judah's name and the fourth of Revelation. A dark red colour gives it the appearance of burning charcoal, whence its other name, carbuncle, is derived. Next to the diamond, it is the most costly. David collected this among the precious stones to ornament the sacred temple.

5. The sapphire, with Dan's name. This is the second in Revelation. It possesses a fine sky-blue hue, and is next to the diamond and ruby in hardness. Job mentions it with other gems, and it was highly esteemed in the earliest times.

6. The diamond, with Naphtali's name. Some say that the Hebrew word should be translated onyx, the sardonyx, or the fifth in Revelation. This gem has a whitish colour, with nearly an orange shade, and was highly prized by the ancients.

7. The ligure, having Gad's name, the same as jacinth, or hyacinth, a valuable stone of a red or cinnamon colour, with yellow and green shades. Some suppose this gem is the modern opal, very costly.

8. The agate, having Asher's name. Some think it to be the chrysoprasus, or the tenth in Revelation. It is most finely variegated, seemingly to represent streams, clouds, flowers, the stars, etc., on which account it has ever been prized, but is of low value among precious stones. 9. The amethyst, with Issachar's name, the twelfth in Revelation. It has a strong blue and deep red or violet colour. The ancients supposed that it caused dreams, and that wine drunk

from an amethystine cup would not intoxicate.

10. The beryl, with Zebulun's name, supposed to be the chrysolite of the ancients, the seventh in Revelation. It has a pellucid, blueish-green colour, is found in the East Indies, and ranks among the modern topazes.

11. The onyx, with Joseph's name, and probably here the beryl, the eighth in Revelation. It is a green or blueish. precious stone, allied to the emerald. It ornamented the ephod of the high-priest.

12. The jasper, having Benjamin's name; not the jasper of the moderns, for in Rev. xxi. 11 it is a perfectly transparent stone, of such a brilliant lustre that: St. John compares it to the glorified body of the Son of man. A common jasper, entirely opaque until polished, would not at all answer for this holy comparison. We prefer the opinion that the jasper in the Revelation refers to the diamond, the most beautiful and valuable of all precious stones. With the transparency of the purest water, it combines the brilliancy of a flame of fire, and it is almost impressible. value too is very great; and John could not have selected a more appropriate object for his beautiful comparison than the diamond. The ancients obtained the diamond from the East Indies, and they polished it with corundum or emery, a mineral almost as hard as itself.

Its

The precious stones are also introduced figuratively in the Scriptures. Solomon compares to them the gifts which a man bestows, and by which he acquires honours. St. Paul likens the Church of Christ and the life of a Christian to a structure composed of gold, silver, and precious stones.

Of the high-priest's garments, and the precious stones in his breastplate, doubtless it may be said they were all emblematical of spiritual and holy things, "but of which and in what way," to adopt the language of Dr. Adam Clarke, "no man can positively say." "These were all made for glory and for beauty," is the general account it pleased the Lord to give of their design, and it is best not to attempt to be wise above what is written.

G. P. D.

THE character of Dorcas has been traced by the sacred historian (Acts ix. 36-41) in a few broad lines, and the general result may be expressed by benevolent activity. She was full of good works and of alms-deeds which she did." Here was a sister of charity, without a convent.

Passing a little into details, it should especially be noticed that her benevolence grew out of her religious principle. It is mentioned that she was a Christian disciple; in other words, one in whom the truths of Christianity had become living principles of action. There is no reason why we should deny to Dorcas natural feelings of humanity, even before she came under the supreme control of Christian motive; but it was her religion that gave to her humanity purity, steadiness, and strength, and made her life like a tree in autumn loaded in its every branch with golden fruit. She was "full of good works and of alms-deeds which she did." She was benevolent to others in the style and magnitude in which her benevolence showed itself, because she "knew the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though He was rich yet for our sakes He became poor."

It is the more necessary to bring this fact into prominence, because it is not generally known, even by many Christians, to what an extent care for the poor and suffering is the simple fruit of the Gospel. Judaism inculcated an active sympathy with the destitute, but Christianity perfected the sentiment; while among the polished heathen nations systematic effort for the poor was unknown. When did pagan hands ever rear an asylum or found a hospital? Or would such institutions ever have been heard of, but for the new morality which Christ gave to the human race? The world owes to the Gospel not only sublime doctrine, but still more the sublime feeling of human brotherhood. Even the apostate Julian confesses this, after having vainly attempted to engraft benevolent action on the dead and sapless

stock of paganism. "What a shame is it," he exclaims, in writing to a friend, "that our people should have no compassion at all for the helpless and the miserable, while these cursed Galileans" (so he called the Christians) "not only maintain all their own poor, but relieve ours also!"

Then there was system in her benevolent activity. It was a perennial spring, flowing in summer and winter. Rooted in a living principle, it acted with all the steadiness of life. It is especially to be noticed that she selected her own definite sphere of action, and fixed on the class of persons who should be the cherished objects of her tenderness and care. These were poor widows -a class of persons of whom it has been remarked that, along with the fatherless, they are more frequently mentioned in Scripture than any other sufferers. She aimed to be the friend of those who had been deprived of their natural protectors, and to soothe and comfort them amid the recollection of extinguished joys. And in carrying out her compassionate schemes, she appears to have not simply provided clothing for her poor widows, but, plying her nimble needle, to have prepared their coats and garments with her own hands, and to have made her mercy "twice blessed" by being the tender bearer of her own gifts, mingling words and looks of sympathy with her mere external benefactions, until the blessing of. many that were ready to perish came upon her." And certainly this was a walk of Christian action peculiarly suitable for woman to occupy.

"When care and sorrow dim the brow, A ministering angel thou."

The lesson which we may gather from all this is, the importance of selecting a specified field of activity, and then systematically and perseveringly cultivating it. Our interest and our prayers should indeed extend to every part of the field of Christian beneficence, even as the care of Nehemiah did to every part of

tation, or in a self-righteou even in remorse of conscier a free, flowing, and unconstr volence.

But Dorcas, like all sind volent persons, loved to se she accomplished. No day p out some act of mercy, or so heart being made to sing fo thus, by her very giving, s every day more rich; rich in the best riches, which last 1 go farthest; rich in the Di those who have found that " blessed to give than to receiv toward God." Oh compare that of those who spend th luxurious self-indulgence; may be, over tales of fictitiou never allowing themselves into contact with the scene suffering; setting their ser music, but sweeping proudl habitations where it would scope; expending more in or in vain-glorious festivity, tha needed to clothe the father make the home of some p happy for a year. How do th look in the estimate of cal How will they look in the li judgment? Which of them life of an angel most resembl to come down and dwell on "Favour is deceitful, and beau but a woman that feareth the shall be praised. Give her o of her hands; and let her praise her in the gates."

DR. TH

they first appear above the soil useful is done without troul you, my son, give your garder it needs?"

Yes, father," said the boy

"And if you try, you will su He tried, and after a time successful; but not at once. idle habit had to be overcome, a

self-denial exercised; and what troubled him most of all was that the garden seemed as if it produced weeds of itself in the night whilst he was sleeping, and the insects came and ate the leaves and buds of the flowering plants when there was no one near to destroy them. But when the summer and autumn came, he was well repaid for his labour. His garden was filled with blossoms, amid which the bees hovered with a drowsy murmur, and around which the sunshine seemed to rest with a softened splendour. And later on in the year the fruit-trees he had tended were bowed beneath their load of fruit; and, beside giving him a store of apples, he had the satisfaction of feeling that he had really accomplished some useful work. Then the people who saw the garden began to praise his industry, as persons will when any one is successful; and he learned that the only way to be satisfied with one's self is to be careful and industrious.

But he also learned a deeper lesson than this. His father told him of another garden that was entrusted to his keeping the garden of the heart; and of the need there was of constant watchfulness in rooting up the evil habits that are perpetually springing within it, as well as of sowing the good seed that belongs to the higher life. After a time the boy learned this lesson; and as his character unfolded, he strove by pains and self-denial to cultivate the graces of the Christian character. In this, as well as in the material work, he was successful; and as he advanced in years-in the summer-time and autumn of his days-numbers of persons admired the kindly heart and the noble character this teaching had produced.

XLII. THE RAIN-DROP. ONE summer morning a drop of rain hung on a thorn hedge. The sun was shining brilliantly overhead, and as it glittered on the globe of water the watercrystal reflected back a stream of light. It was a borrowed splendour, like the brightness of the moon; and whilst it shone in its glory the rain-drop thought, "Would I were always as brilliant as I am to-day! I should then be admired

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and prized as no one ever prizes or admires me now. I am so small that I am useless, and before an hour is past I shall have been dried up by the sunshine. If I could do some good, I should not so much mind losing my present splendour."

The rain-drop was right. Before an hour was past away, the sunshine had dried it from off the hedge, and changed it into a light vapour. All the day it floated through the air, unseen by human vision, wafted as it seemed upon the wings of some playful breeze, until towards the evening it found itself resting on the bosom of a dry and sandy plain. There was but little verdure in the place, and as far as the eye could reach the country seemed parched and barren. As the vapour thought of its hard lot, it sighed and said, "At last I shall be altogether lost. I shall sink into the sand, and become as useless as the pebbles that lie upon the plain."

But in this it was mistaken. When the sun had set, and the surface of the little herbage there was in the desert had become cool, the moisture in the atmosphere began to condense upon all the vegetation it met with. Now it happened that a tiny plant, with downy leaves and sky-blue blossoms, grew near that spot. All day long it had been exposed to the blazing sunlight, and when the evening came its leaves hung down, and it seemed likely to die. Before long the vapour of the rain-drop passed near it, and meeting with its cold stalks and tuft of flowers it was condensed, and became a number of little beads of dew. flower drank the cooling water with delight, and began to recover its strength, and so was able to resist the heat of the following day. And more than this: the plant of the desert yielded a famous medicine; and no long time passed away before it was gathered by a herbalist, who dried it carefully and sent it to a distant land to be used by the physicians in curing the diseased.

The

There it was the means of saving a great man's life. He was suffering from a dangerous illness, and it appeared as though all human aid would be of no avail. But some one recommended him

sought to get published; bu had written just then that no print it for him. Disappoint despairing, he tried publisher lisher, and at last succeede the reviews came out, the noticed it; and only two or it any praise. One of these s he laboured on for many years at last produce something w be read. Again disappointed, of giving up the struggle a but when he remembered wreath he once more went to at last sent out another book. met the fate of its predecessor the trunk-makers bought it paper to line their boxes with rited, he resolved to try no m one day, in looking into a ne found one of his songs quoted set him to work again. By third volume went forth; and the critics praised it, and sa great poet had appeared in Now it was the young man wear the poet's wreath; and wore it, every one bowed dow and did him reverence.

Then he forgot his early d ments, for joy that the laurel gained. And when years after back upon the past, his very seemed to be the star-dust fr the orbs were formed that then their light.

"Now they do it to obtain ible crown; but we an incorru

claimed a professing Christian into tears, and confessing his an unguarded moment he ha an oath. "I began to swea child," he continued, "and swearing until the grace of Go me; and now, even now, th habit steals upon me when thinking." Swearers in child youth and I am sorry to are many-make the vilest sw manhood.