(Ex. 14:25); and wet Gideon's sheep fleece (Judges 6: 31, 37, 38). Further, this clerical reviewer unwittingly asks if 666 'BALAAM'S ASS

was in a clairvoyant state when it saw the angel.' Not well acquainted with these quadrupedal members of the animal kingdom, we are not certain. The Bible positively affirms, however, that "the ass saw the angel;" and Mr. Walk is the only clergyman we've ever known to 'bray' against the spiritual manifestation of the Bible.

"The Rev. David Walk assured his church that he was 'ready to be convinced' of spirit communion was 'sighing' to see spirits. This desire is noble. We recommend him to continue the investigation, to continue this well-doing, adding, among other necessary conditions, those of frequent bathing, fasting and prayer.' Surely, if stirring, thrifty Memphis has no lying Peter, treacherous Judas, nor weeping Jeremiah, it has a poor, tearful David! Be of good cheer, oh Christian teacher; the Scriptures give assurance that though 'weeping may endure for a night, joy cometh in the morning.' But ignoring

he wants the spirits to come in the daylight. Quite probable. So the proud hypocritical Pharisees wanted their Messiah born. in a magnificent palace, rather than a lowly manger. Beggars should not be too fastidious in their demands. . . .

"As this reverend speaker, in the absence of argument, ridicules spiritual circles, especially those held in darkened apartments, will he inform us why most of the spirit manifestations recorded in the Bible- such as Abraham's test the passage of the Red Sea, and the violent wrestling of Jacob with the angel, transpired in the night? when the purpose was to enlighten the world. The tremendous manifestation given to Moses on the Mount, the slaughter of Sennacherib's army by the angels, and the destruction of the Midianites, 20,ooo, in one night, brought about through the interposition of angels, took place in the darkness. The salutation to the shep

herds, the stilling of the tempest, the walking upon the water, and the rolling away of the stone from the sepulcher by spiritual beings in white,' all occurred in the dark. Mary Magdalene came to the tomb, 'early, when it was yet dark,' is the evangelist's language. Again, it was dark when Paul and Silas were spiritually delivered from prison, dark when the angels released the apostles from their dungeon-cell (Acts 5:19),— and dark, Peter sleeping between two soldiers,' when an angel smiting, raised him up, that he might go out of the inner gate, which opened of its own accord.' Were these patriarchs, prophets, apostles and angels all impostors? Did they all hate the light,' to use the basely insinuating language of Mr. Walk, because forsooth, these wonderful manifestations occurred by and through them in the night-time?

"Will the Linden street preacher tell us why Jesus, when called to heal the maiden, 'put them all out,' before He took her by the hand?' and why Peter, in the case of Tabitha, 'put them all forth?' Had Mr. Walk been present, after sneering at Peter and scoffing at Jesus, he would doubtless have cried lustily, 'Don't put me out, I want to see the tricks performed."

The entire discourse abounded with sharp thrusts, witticisms and brilliant passages, and the delivery was accompanied with a hearty good nature which is a conspicuous quality in Mr. Peebles's temperament and character. Indeed, we here get a fair portrait of the man,- a portrait which he has involuntarily sketched for our edification. The spectral shadows of despair can not impress their unlovely features upon this man's mental landscape. For him the traditional hell has no terrors. His personality is a center from which sunshine perpetually streams. As the birds and flowers rejoice in the manifold nature that environs them, so does he rejoice, and from the abundance of this joy there is a continued overflow into the lap of the great human world.

After all, it is a small matter whether we write a name which shall survive in mortal memory, but it does matter that our life and deeds become identified with that eternal reality

which lifts its waves in myriad formed lines to bless the world. The local scenes where our labors were once expended may disappear, and the marble slab that will be reared to perpetuate our name, will itself crumble to dust as old Time numbers his vast cycles! But the soul will endure, and somewhere there is kept an imperishable record of its long succession of pilgrimages.

"Queer faces of my comrades, peering into mine,

Full of mystery to me, O you faces!

You do not know that you are ignorant of what you are;
From you the dream has not departed;

Still you sleep, murmuring;

Your dreams are troubled, but do not wake you;

O faces of my comrades, you are sphinxes unto me!"

"Where can

XXXV

AROUND THE WORLD

I rest my soul? I am so weary

Of whirling from the sunlit mountain peaks of bliss
Down to the fearful caverns, cold and dreary,

Where no light is. O, I am tired of this!

"Flapping of bats' wings one day, next the eagle's screaming In the sun's face, wide-eyed and jubilant of life,

But yet no still, low bower for quiet dreaming

Where exultation is not, nor yet strife.”

-Emma Tuttle.

Now Mr. Peebles saw before him the possibility of executing long-cherished plans. His journey to Western Asia and the classic lands, far from satisfying his thirst for a practical knowledge of the Eastern civilizations, only served to stimulate the desire for more extensive and thorough research. Consequently, in August, 1872, he started westward, slowly wending his way across the continent by the Central Pacific route, taking extensive notes of people and localities along the way.

To the great majority of people, travel and exploration possesses a peculiar fascination. There is a charm and exhilaration in gathering knowledge through object-lessons by means of travel. We shall, therefore, endeavor to follow Mr. Peebles through a small portion of his journey, and so get a glimpse of the great moving world through his eyes. But it is well to be reminded that no one individual beholds the entire panorama of events exactly as they are enacted on the world's stage. He who gives us his interpretation of what he sees, thereby sketches for us his own portrait. Newton saw the world in a few of its manifold aspects; but his dog Carlo saw it only in some of its simpler aspects, and with a far more limited mental vision.

Through the eyes of Mr. Peebles we see nature in motion, abounding with glowing colors, throbbing with life, full of warm impulses, having ugly features here and there it is true, but nevertheless, it is on the march toward a glorious fulfilment. Our hero is an optimist. When we travel with him the sun shines, is on the faces of all of his companions. Yet, withal, through his eyes we derive no great amount of technical knowledge, no labored scientific classification of the objects of the living, or of the half-dead world. Moreover, his idea relating to dates, geographical position, topography and the various points of the compass, are not always sharply defined, and we sometimes wonder how, going so far from home, he ever finds his way back. He may not be able to analyze the rays in the solar spectrum, but he knows when he sees a waving harvest field or a glorious sunset. If he has neglected to carefully trace the botanical appellations to the myriad species of flowers and plants, no one worships or communes more ardently than he in his own flower-garden or returns from such communion more refreshed. His genius is of the lyrical order, and therefore he sings to us the manifold hymn he has learned from Nature, while he rarely explains and classifies after the manner of the slow-plodding scientist. He is inspired. He aims to see the world as it is, in its thinking and acting; and from an inspection of the monuments and memorials left us from former generations, he tries and succeeds in telling us how the human world thought and acted; how it governed and built and worshiped in the remotely ancient times. We shall surely find pleasant company with such a kind-hearted, clear-headed traveler.

As he sped towards the Rockies over the broad stretch of level land in Western Nebraska, from his heart Mr. Peebles pitied the poor farmers, living with neighbors scattered far apart, occupying board shanties, with scarcely a shrub or tree in sight, over whose silent landscape brooded a dreaded monotony, where the soul is condemned to shrink and shrivel to a mere continuance of life. Money hired at thirty-six per cent and land mortgaged to secure a team and utensils with which