considerable versatility, and all the beginnings of the peculiar literature of the nation, diffusing itself so widely at a later period, reach back into these centuries." "All things that appeared worthy of everlasting remembrance were, in these oldest times of the community, carefully committed to writing.”

In a recent English work, the Philosophy of Creation, by Dr. William Galloway, a most painstaking 'effort is made to trace the practice of writing to its source. It is contemporaneous with the human race. Adam was possessed of writings. The commandments and promises given him were inscribed on stone, as afterward in the cases of Moses and Joshua, and on stone pillars set up at the gates of Eden. Later Assyriology is telling us of kings and conquerors who wrote their achievements on the everlasting rocks of the mountains. Genesis, when it tells us of those inspired and skilled in the use of metals and cunning devices in antediluvian times, seems like a prophecy of these things, as well as a light by which we may see the early beginning of writing. Yes, it suggests even more than this— that "the human spirit in its deepest ground is always the same." It does not require time to lift it to its altitude. It has a created average, and the level of posterity and antiquity is about the same.

All this disposes of M. Renan's boast, that writing was unknown in the vast pre-Abrahamic times. Professor Sayce, an undoubted authority, since Renan made his boast says that a knowledge of writing must have been more widely spread among the citizens of the old classical world than it is among us to-day: that at least a century before the exodus active literary intercourse was going on all over the world, and that there were libraries and schools, and that the language of Babylonia was that of diplomacy among the nations as much as is the French of to-day.

All this is exceedingly interesting--and much more we think is soon to appear-in view of the discussion that is now on concerning the antiquity of the writings of the earlier Scriptures. Who knows but that the Pentateuchal question, in an oblique way, is destined to greatly enrich our stores of knowledge and impart to our appetites for studying the antiquity of Scripture writings a zest not hitherto known! B. F. RAWLINS.

Mount Vernon, Ind.

"THE PALACE OF THE JEW'S DAUGHTER.”

When Petrie, of the Egypt Exploration Fund, reached Defenneh, which was formerly the advanced post on the highway into Syria, in the sandy desert bordering Lake Menzaleh, his attention was attracted by brick ruins in the middle of the plain, and he was informed that the building was "the Palace of the Jew's Daughter." Defenneh is the classical Daphnæ, the Tahpanhes of Jeremiah, whither the "remnant of Judah" vainly fled to escape the vengeance of Nebuchadnezzar; for the great conqueror found them in their retreat and carried them away captives to Babylon. Jer. iii, 16; xliii, 5-11.

North-west of the palace, and forming a kind of forecourt, Petrie discovered a pavement which had been an open-air platform, where the

inhabitants could sit, receive visitors, and transact business-" a place to meet persons who would not be admitted to the palace or fort, to assemble guards, to hold large levees, to receive tribute and stores, to unlade goods, and to transact the multifarious business which in such a climate is best done in the open air." Now read the prophet: "Then came the word of the Lord unto Jeremiah in Tahpanhes, saying, Take great stones in thine hand, and hide them in mortar in the brickwork which is at the entry of Pharaoh's house in Tahpanhes, in the sight of the men of Judah; and say unto them, Thus saith the Lord of hosts, the God of Israel: Behold, I will send and take Nebuchadnezzar the king of Babylon, my servant, and will set his throne upon these stones that I have hid; and he shall spread his royal pavilion over them" (Jer. xliii, 8-10, R. V). Three cylinders had been discovered some years previously bearing an inscription of Nebuchadnezzar, and are now in the Boolak Museum. They were apparently foundation memorials, and belonged to some place where Nebuchadnezzar had "spread his royal pavilion." Although not found at Defenneh, so far, at least, as is known, yet all the circumstances point to "the Palace of the Jew's Daughter" as the place where they were originally buried. The surface of the platform was so denuded that the explorer could not hope to find the very stones which the prophet had buried, but the place itself seems to be unmistakable. J. N. FRADENBURGH. Warren, Pa.

THE ASSISTANT PASTOR.

On this side the Sierras little is known of such an officer as an assistant pastor. He is as scarce an article as the junior preacher of the good old times. Los Angeles Methodism, I believe, boasts of one assistant pastor; there is no Methodist Episcopal church in San Francisco that can afford such a luxury. The city pastor is often required to do more than one man can possibly achieve. There are several churches around San Francisco Bay that have overworked pastors.

The railroad corporation does not expect its superintendent to be engineer, conductor, baggage-master, fireman, brakeman, all in one; but many a city pastor is compelled to be every thing in the church-from "conductor to fireman." The city pastor will not gain much sympathy if he fails in health; there are plenty ready with open palms to take the city appointment.

Bishop Wiley once remarked: "The bishops are overworked, but there is no remedy. There are plenty of good brethren who are willing to make a sacrifice of themselves by taking their places." The assistant pastor in the city charge would be well sustained if we had fewer weak churches, which are just half supporting their pastors.

Let the churches (of the city) be less in number, but strongly equipped, and each of these churches sustain one or more mission points, under the control of the parent church, and in the oversight and management of which the pastor's labor should be supplemented by an assistant pastor. Oakland, Cal.

R. BENTLEY.

THE ITINERANTS' CLUB.

THE WORK OF PREPARATION.

How to turn pastoral work to educational account, and be a better student and preacher because one is a better pastor, is a problem worth considering; for "the people " our young minister serves are all glad to have him "call" and "visit; "the oftener and the longer the better. So they think and so they say, and this gives to our brother several hints which he is not slow to adopt.

He will not call or visit in the morning, unless in cases of extreme necessity, and these cases rarely occur. His private memorandum is, "A. M. in L.," which being interpreted is, "morning in library." He has underscored it with a crooked, saw-like line, expressive of his energy of purpose. He has said it in tones of energy both in private and pulpit until everybody knows that he will not be interrupted. Even old "Father "the oldest and most influential and (be it said respectfully), in these later days the most garrulous of all the stewards, who bored the last pastor by his frequent and protracted calls; even he has found out that the new man cannot be seen before one o'clock P. M. He tried and was foiled, and having failed utterly gave up the quest. The whole Church soon knew that the pastor was inaccessible every morning. And the Church liked it. They liked to tell it. It reflected credit on themselves and on their minister. And it told on the sermons preached on Sabbath days. The verve and the aroma of the morning hours were in them.

The outsiders were attracted. The insiders were instructed. But he did "call." He had a way of "calling" on the street. He had the art of saying more and of getting more out of the people he talked to, even when they chanced to meet, than most men who went and sat and stayed in professional form. He put his earnest life into smile and hand grasp. He asked questions, gave information, canvassed some item of church business, found out about "wife and children," where they were, how they were, and what their plans for the near future. Somehow when that evening the head of the house reported to the heart of the house that casual conversation, and the children heard how the pastor had asked for them all by name, and had sent a motto to them to be repeated every day, they all felt that the pastor had called on them that day. They were the more sure to be at church the next Sunday.

Frequently when this pastoral pastor met men on the street or in the shop, there would come a word, a bow, a shake, a smile, a question, a hint, a proverb, a sally of wit, an answer to some echo of doubt, a bit of raillery more in earnest than in fun, and a skeptical fellow, leaving the friendly pastor, promised himself to " go to hear that man preach;" and somehow as a casual question which had been asked in the brief conversation would recur, the skeptic had a feeling at the heart as if his mother had called to him out of the unseen, or as if he had heard an exhortation

at a revival. It was the power of manhood touching manhood; a man at peace with God influencing a man who needed peace.

In the regular calls our pastor was as wise as he was agreeable. He didn't seem the professional pastor at all. His tone was natural. It rung with genuineness. He fringed every topic he touched with a charming religiousness. And to make a religious impression he was not compelled to lug in the set themes of church and pulpit. Indeed, with consummate art he appeared to avoid, and now and then intentionally to evade them. But after his "little prayer," as the children called it, and his cheery good-bye, every body felt as if an alabaster-box of precious ointment had been broken in the house, and its fragrance reached the very attic. And lumbering Ned, the twelve-year-old who never took to preachers, wondered when that "jolly one was a comin' agin'." Mother wondered how she came to tell him so freely about her experiences and her doubts, and she was almost sorry for it until one Sunday, soon after, while he was preaching, she found her problems solved, and her eyes wet and her heart glad. She said to her husband, "He must have made up that sermon in our parlor." For this "uneducated" minister had a way of reading people as he read books. And when a man puts the contents of folks into his sermon, folks take his preaching to heart, because it certainly reaches their heads, and with every-day people head and heart are not very widely separated.

As for places of sorrow, the pastor sought them out and went often. And there he was at his best, if one can say that of a man who seemed always and every-where at his best. What good cheer he brought! He filled the place with spiritual ozone. He was himself a tonic. Once or twice the old infidel doctor, who had a difficult case on hand, sent for that parson to call. "He is a sort of a mind-cure," said the old doctor; "but he has no nonsense, and makes a trace of religious talk go further and do more than all my medicines." The doctor didn't know the secret. The Lord Jesus and his faithful minister did. It was interesting to notice how much the minister found out, in his calls on sick people, about their past lives, their views of religion, their ground of hope for the future (often so pitifully weak and worthless), their regrets at unfaithfulness, and the humiliating reasons for their regrets. It was plain to see when he preached on the Sabbath that whatever he may have done with the last volume of sermons by Canon This or Archbishop That, or the latest series of Bampton lectures, he had read closely and with throbbing heart the red pages of living experience in the chambers of sorrow. Our student-pastor did not refuse a feast when the chance offered. He was thankful for his invitation. The "R. S. V. P." elicited a genial acceptance. And he was on hand. But he was on hand as a man, a gentleman who never forgot and never obtrusively reminded any body that he was a minister. His self-mastery gave him mastership of men. His transparent purity made him a king among maidens. His manliness and wisdom put him into easy relations with motherhood. And the children "made for him" to hear a story or learn of a good thing to play. He

was a gentleman among society ladies, a man of practical sense among men and women of affairs, a friend among children and youth, but everywhere and always he was the dignified, refined, spiritually-minded pastor whose presence was a benediction.

As a pastor our young minister had a good chance to find books in large numbers and great variety, for he studied every shelf and table in all the homes of his people, and he made out a complete list of the volumes he found. He classified them, and could tell by turning to his pocket catalogue where in his parish he could find all the available books on any special subject. Keeping in his memorandum-book a list of topics he wished to investigate, he would call here and there and turn to good account the various libraries of his parish. He was surprised to find how many strong and standard volumes were scattered among his people. By a little planning he was able to make pastoral visiting an opportunity for reading and study. His habit lost him no friends, and his example set older folks and younger at work consulting and reading books which, although in their own libraries, they had hitherto accounted of little or no value. After his pocket list was complete the pastor found that he had in his "charge," scattered among the homes of his people, more than two thousand books, and some of them exceedingly valuable.

Our minister, in a really scientific way, although unobtrusively, studied the people he visited. On the inductive method he investigated the individuals and families under his pastoral supervision. He probed every body with questions delicately and wisely put. He collected a mass of information bearing on family origins, hereditary influences, religious opinions for generations back, opinions political, family habits, idiosyncrasies, age at death of ancestors, etc. He found out reasons for present customs and habits, parental views on the education and government of children, and a great variety of subjects which guided him in his study of the people to whom he preached and whose personal lives he was competent to influence. All this made itself felt in his pulpit work. He knew the origin of many difficulties in personal life.

He knew what se

cret spring to touch, what perils to guard his people against, what incentives to present. He studied the social problems, not so much in books as in "folks." He met the problems in the concrete the sewing-women, the factory-girls, the miners, the apprentices, the servants, the employers, the manufacturers, the politicians, the stable-boys-every class and every body. He talked to them. He thought about them. He questioned them. He preached to them. He counseled and reproved and comforted, as circumstances demanded. And when in a parlor some distinguished author, college professor, or popular lecturer on political and social economy conversed with our young clergyman, the latter could give facts and theories and suggest practical measures of real value to these professional and lecture-room students of problems in the work-a-day world.

Thus our young "uneducated" minister made his pastoral office and work a school of theological and social training. He studied men individually and collectively. He found books in houses and knowledge in