above the horizon, and seemed to rest like a gem of dazzling brightness and celestial beauty on the dark, rugged brow of the "mountains of Moab." "There was no voice"-no sound was heard. Yet how beautifully, how emphatically did it seem to say, day is at hand, the morning will soon be spread upon the mountains." Imagination may have had something to do with it, but really it never before wore to my eye such an aspect of mingled brilliancy and loveliness, brightness and beauty. Surely, thought I, the Apostle John must have seen that sweet star where I now see it; and this was the form of brightness, and gentleness, and beauty, which he had in mind in the Isle of Patmos, when he calls the Saviour "the bright and morning star." The thousand thoughts which rushed through my heart, as I gazed upon that enchanting symbol of the Redeemer, can never be recorded. But sure I am I shall never forget that star.

The scene at the river beggars all description. We were among the last that came up. For a long distance the banks were crowded with men, women, and children, mules, donkeys, horses, and camels. Of the human portion of the company, some were undressing, others dressing; some were crowding their way into the river, others crowding out. Hundreds were already in the rapid stream, some naked, and others partly covered. Men were shouting, women were screaming, camels were growling, donkeys were braying, and some children were crying. Gog and Magog-what a scene! The sad part of the story is, that these people, many of them have travelled thousands of miles, and "spent all their living," to come and bathe in these waters, under the belief that so their sins will be washed away, and heaven made sure. On such occasions accidents must be expected, of course. The following came to my knowledge: Two men were carried away by the current and drowned. One aged woman fell from a camel on

which she was riding, and broke her neck. Another woman became a mother in the midst of the crowd, and a week after I saw her on a mule, not far from the ancient Kirjathjearim, with her child in her arms, bound to Joppa, and from thence I suppose to Russia, for she had the appearance of a Russian.

This scene has its parallel on the banks of the Ganges, in whose waters Hindoo pilgrims bathe for the same purpose; and however Puseyism and Formalism may be horrified at the suggestion, I am inclined to think there is as much true religion in the one case as in the other. When the ceremony of bathing is completed, the pilgrims return to their encampment near Jericho, and at one or two o'clock the next morning, they start again on their return to Jerusalem, by the route which they came.

Having secured the services of five Bedouin Arabs, we left the pilgrims in the midst of their most unceremonious "" ceremony of bathing," as it is called, and went down the banks of the river to its mouth, a distance of six miles; then turning to the right, we followed the shore of the Dead Sea for an hour and a half or more, and then went up into the wilderness of Judea to the convent of "Mar Saba," where we spent the night. The next day we came up to Jerusalem by way of the "King's gardens," the vallies of Hermon and Gihon, and entered at the Jaffa Gate, highly gratified with the excursion we had made,

S. L. POMROY.

THE SHEPHERD AND HIS SHEEP.

THE Rev. John Hartley, who has travelled as a missionary in Greece, records in his journal the following interesting scriptural illustration:-" Having had my attention directed last night to the words 'The sheep hear His voice, and he calleth his own by name'-John x. 3., I asked my man whether it was

usual in Greece to give names to sheep. He informed me that it was, and that the sheep obeyed the shepherd when he called them by their names. This morning I had an opportunity of verifying the truth of this remark. Passing by a flock of sheep, I asked the shepherd the same question which I put to my servant, and he gave me the same answer. I then bade him call one of his sheep. He did so, and it instantly left its pasturage and its companions, and ran up to the hand of the shepherd, with signs of pleasure, and with a prompt obedience which I had never before observed in any other animal. It is also true of the sheep in this country, 'that a stranger will they not follow, but will flee from him; for they know not the voice of strangers.' The shepherd told me that many of his sheep are still wild; that they had not yet learned their names; but that by teaching they would all learn them. The others, which knew their names, he called tame."

This reminds us of the beautiful language of Dr. Watt's,

I love my shepherd's voice,

His watchful eyes shall keep
My wandering soul among

The thousands of his sheep:

He feeds his flock, he calls their names,
His bosom bears the tender lambs.

A CHILD'S LOVE.

Who is it I love the best?-my Bird?
Which sweetly sings when my voice is heard;
He'll perch on my finger, and eat from my hand,
And all that I say seems to understand.
I love him so well, that I think I should cry,
If my dear little dicky-bird were to die.

Who is it I love the best?-my Fawn?
Which plays with me on the velvet lawn,

With its soft black eye, and its graceful mien,
'Tis the prettiest creature that ever was seen.
But if they should kill it, or if it should stray,
I'm sure I should grieve for it all the day.

Who is it I love the best?-my Brother?
Who knows my footstep from any other;
But his cheeks are pale, and his eyes are dim,
And my mother she sighs when she speaks of him.
Oh! if he should sleep never more to awake,
My sorrowful heart would almost break.

Who is it I love the best?-my Sister?

Who called me her darling when last I kiss'd her;
She dresses my doll, and she taught me to read,
And she works in my garden till there is not a weed.
To lose my dear Anne would be very sad,

Neither bird, fawn, nor brother, could then make me glad.

Who is it I love the best?-my Father?

Who calls us his lambs when around him we gather;
He talks of a beautiful world on high,

Where good little children will go when they die;

I wish my dear Father were always at home,

Then we should hear more of that bright world to come.
I always feel glad when my Father is near;
And I'm sure that no father was ever so dear.

Who is it I love the best?-my Mother?.
Whose love to me is beyond every other;
My bird, and my fawn, cannot help when I cry,
But my mother she wipes every tear from my eye;
My brother, and sister, and father, are kind,
But love like my mother's I never could find.
Oh! then, 'tis my mother I love the best-
Yes, yes, she is dearer than all the rest.

My child, said the mother, I've heard thee tell,
Of the love that in thy young heart does dwell;
But my daily prayer to heaven shall be,
That thou mayest love One far better than me;
That the sweet name of JESUS be heard on thy tongue,
His love in thy heart, and His praise in thy song.

ANNA.

A YOUNG alligator lately arrived from the Nile, was placed upon the lawn in the Edinburgh Zoological Garden. To refresh himself after his long confinement during the passage, he was allowed to ramble about, and while thus pleasantly occupied, he fell in with a cat, which happened to be taking an afternoon stroll too. The alligator continued his progress, and puss, unwilling to enter into collision with so uncouth looking a fellow, started and retreated backwards till she was stopped by a tree, and there she remained stockstill. The alligator went on till he reached within a few inches of the cat, when, noticing her glaring eyes and erected bristles, he also came to a stand-still. In this antagonist state they were found by one of the men, having evidently mesmerised each other to that extent that neither was able to stir. They were allowed so to continue for a considerable time; and but for the interference of the keeper, there is no saying how long they would have remained spell-bound under the fascination of each other's influence.