26 CHRISTIANS IN THE NILE VALLEY. He was ill, and had come down to the boat, in which I and some friends were travelling, for medicine; he was an intelligent and well-dressed man, but pale and sorrowful-looking. We gave him some simple thing or other, for which he thanked us, and went away. When he had disappeared up the bank, some one suggested that we should make him a present of a Bible. So we followed and hunted him up among the palmsheltered streets of the town, and found him eventually by the door of his dwelling, talking to his companions. Our range of Arabic was small, but we contrived to make him understand that the book was for him, and that we hoped he would read it. The old man took it with every demonstration of eager thankfulness, and opening it, read out the first verses of St. Matthew's gospel, then passed it over to his friends, who recognising its sacred character, were not less delighted than he, and professed with all the earnestness of pantomime and speech, that the book should go round and round, and be read by all, and that they would ponder over it in company. I do not know where the old man or his friends are now, but it seemed to me then that there was fertile soil in Girgeh for the reception of the word of God. Situated for the most part in wild rocky ravines, generally of the eastern mountain range that skirts the Nile valley, are the convents and monasteries of the Coptic Christians, many of them of considerable antiquity, built for the most part in perilous times, when every regard had to be paid to the safety of the inmates. Thus these dwellings are often so nestled in the clefts of the rock, high up on its scarred face, as to appear quite inaccessible, save to the eagles and cormorants, whose shadows cross and recross the walls as they sail about in mid air. In theso lonely heights, looking down on to the Nile valley, the monks pass the greater part of their time, it is to be feared, in sloth and idleness (lounging and smoking when not otherwise engaged), the services of the church being got through in a parrot-like manner, and in a language not one priest in fifty can understand. On Sundays, and other great occasions, public service is held in the convent chapels, and the villagers, if there be any in the neighbourhood, attend; or perhaps the superior of the monastery takes a journey into a neighbouring hamlet, and preaches to the inhabitants. clamber on board, crying out, "I am a Christian! oh traveller, give me alms!" The sailors, who look down on these "Christian dogs" with profound contempt, usually supply them with a rag of covering while they continue your guests; and they crouch down and eat with a voracity quite repulsive to contemplate. Before the shivering creatures take leave, they are usually clamorous for piasters, or anything else you may have to give them, reiterating their requests in a monotone, as if it were a spell to be often repeated. They are curiously desirous also for any empty bottles that you may have. It is strange to notice the manner in which these amphibious Christians carry away the things given to them: piasters are put into the month, and held between the cheek and the jaw, and any food or clothes they may receive is made up into a bundle, and cleverly balanced on the head; while empty bottles, their especial treasure, are corked and launched into the stream, and afterwards thrown, one after another, onwards, and still onwards, into the water as the swimmer reaches each in succession. Some of these convents are hidden away in the mountain-range far from the track of the traveller, or even from the neighbourhood of any village. It happened one day that we left our boat moored to the river bank, in the early morning, and went some distance into the neighbouring desert, in search among the rocks for an entrance to a series of caverns, where in the far back time, out of the range of history, and for some mysterious reason that philosophers wot not of, the priests of old Egypt had made a sepulchre for mummied crocodiles, which still lie by thousands ranged in awful solitude, swathed and bound in their rocky and costly tomb. This runs deep and wide into the bowels of the mountain, and is extensive enough in its ramification; but the way into it from daylight is small, difficult of access, and hard to find; and it happened in our search, that while looking up we espied a trace of masonry some four or five hundred feet above the valley, on the face of the rock. And climbing afterwards, at some hazard, we found it to be a convent partly built into a cleft of the rock, partly into a jutting crag. A cross or two in plaster had been worked into the wall: from a loop-hole in which latter, eventually-for we made several ineffectual attempts to obtain a hearing-a priest looked down, and asked our business. An invitation to enter followed, which was immediately acted upon, though with some difficulty, owing to the singular means of entry afforded to us. We were expected to climb a knotted rope some twenty feet long, suspended against the wall, which latter was deeply notched at intervals, in order to give a purchase to the foot. This arrangement affords an easy method of keeping out intruders, as, if the rope is drawn up, of course you are cut off from all communication save that of speech. There is a convent of some repute in the neighbourhood of Minich, about two hundred miles beyond Cairo, situated, fortress-like, on the summit of a bluff that rises almost perpendicularly out of the river to a height of some seven hundred feet. The monks are notorious, not so much for their Christianity, as for their muscular exploits and inveterate mendicity. They keep a sharp look out for the Frank traveller from their rocky height; and as his boat sails up the stream swarm down the face of the limestone cliff, jumping from crag to crag, where they cannot avail themselves The priest who received us, took the hand of each of the few rough stairs rudely hewn at some distant person in succession, and respectfully kissed it; then period for their help, with cat-like precision and agility, lighting a candle, led the way up a dark staircase and so launching themselves into the water, swim rudely cut in the rock, up to the more habitable parts off in a state of nakedness to visit their fellow-Chris- of this strange dwelling. Several small caverns opened tians from the west, all heedless of the distance, which into these stairs, and one tolerably large chamber, the is often nearly the whole breadth of the river, little back and sides of which were cut out of the rock, but short of a mile across at this point. Sometimes Copt the front built in roughly and loop-holed, looking over meets Copt in mid stream, and then there is a race for the Nile valley. On a sort of landing-place formed it, and when the dusky creatures arrive, panting and by a jutting crag, we were received by the superior breathless, around your boat, common humanity of the convent a middle-aged man, with fine intelforbids you to spurn them off, so that in general they ligent countenance, and had from him a gracious welgain a few piasters and a meal for their swim, They come. Then plunging again into the dark stairway, CHRISTIANS IN THE NILE VALLEY. 27 we presently emerged on a sort of platform above. | a chasm or rift in the rock, of about twelve feet, to be Here was a large cavern, or gaping mouth as it were, got over first, from the place where the ingenious in the rock, where the floor had been artifically rope-staircase stood; and it may be stated to the levelled, and the arched roof above left rough; and in credit of these Copts, in the matter of industry, that this cleft of the rock-whose dimensions were about they had procured two or three trunks of palm-trees, and 12 or 14 feet high, by 40 feet wide at and near the constructed a bridge across this chasm, and built up mouth, gradually lessening inwards to a considerable a low parapet along the walk. Moreover, they got distance into the heart of the rock-the monks of old some earth up from the valley and planted a little had constructed their abode. garden. So after we had visited their abode, they took us over the bridge into their grounds, and laughed heartily and kindly at our evident admiration of them. Before leaving, we inquired if they possessed an Arabic Bible, and found, with surprise, they had no such thing in the place; so we signified to them, as well as a little Arabic and a good deal of perseverance and pantomime would go to make them understand it, that if one of them would bear us company as far as the boat, we should be very happy to make them a present of the Scriptures, in a tongue that every one of them could read. They accepted the offer with an eagerness that was quite refreshing, and the youngest of the company, a handsome, pale-faced youth of twenty-after an animated discussion, in which they all closed up together talking and gesticulating-being deputed for the journey, we left; the superior who had heretofore kept aloof, and at a distance, having first saluted cach one of us kindly and graciously, and with the air of a well-bred gentleman. So we turned away and descended, with cautious steps and slowly, the mountain-side. At the outward edge of the cavern a strong wall had been built sufficiently high to prevent one falling over, yet with enough space left between it and the overhanging rock to allow plenty of sunlight and air to enter. Some twenty feet from this, inward, there was a small chapel, without roof, of course, built up with thin walls, eight feet high; embellished all round inside with fretted wood-work-which, by the way, is a characteristic feature in all Coptic churches-made into panels, and forming in places a kind of screen. A wooden reading-desk was nearly all the furniture we could perceive in this sanctuary, save a very sourlooking picture of St. Michael, hanging against the wall; but behind a small lattice-work partition there was an inner apartment, roughly cut into the live rock, containing the wooden communion-table, covered by a cloth, with a solitary lamp suspended over it from the blackened rock roof. I noticed here a censer, and a small silver box filled with incense lying on the table. In the chapel the brethren, to the number of about a dozen, who, as far as I could perceive, wore no distinctive dress but the ordinary black robe and turban, pressed around to give us a welcome-moved the more to do so, doubtless, as a visit of this kind was a break in their otherwise monotonous existence. After mutual salutation, they brought out their treasures to show, and among them an illuminated manuscript, or two in Coptic-one was, I believe, the life of St. Michael-taking them out of a sort of hole or closet, cut in the rock, which appeared to be a depository of all the precious things of the convent-old dresses, crosses, and other upholstery. On the reading-desk in the chapel, were a large manuscript Bible and liturgies, each in Coptic; and at our request, one of the monks began intoning a chapter from the Gospels, swaying his body backwards and forwards as most Easterns do when they read, while the rest stood round in circle. He professed to understand what he read in part, though in all probability that knowledge was limited to very few words of the language; may be, the superior was more learned. This latter, with the native dignity of an Eastern, kept in the background, and watched our movements with an air of mingled humbleness and benignity. Besides the chapel, there were one or two more apartments-if such they might be called-for the use of the brethren, partly built, partly hewn in the rock; while at their back, the natural rent or opening extended some depth into the heart of the mountain. The brethren, I believe, had chosen this for their place of sleeping, making a dormitory of it, partly because it was the coolest position, being farthest from the outward air, and partly because the floor was the smoothest. Nature had otherwise been favourable to the brethren, for just outside on the face of the cliff, there was a level ledge running along horizontally some fifty yards, and at least a yard and a half wide-so that walking exercise might be had without going down into the valley. But all things have some drawback, so here there was GERHARD TERSTEEGEN. H. In nearly every hymn-book belonging to our places of worship may be found the beautiful verses beginning"Thou hidden love of God, whose height Whose depth unfathomed no man knows! I see from far thy beauteous light, And those who sing the hymn do not generally know Gerhard Tersteegen was born in 1697, youngest child of an honest tradesman in an obscure country town of the principality of Moers. At the schools to which he was sent by his mother-for his father died during his infancy-he took fair rank for scholarship; on some public occasion, he delivered an oration in Latin verse, which gained him great applause; and the discerning listeners thought it a pity that so promising a boy should be taken from study and set to the prosaic pursuits of business. But there was no help for it; the family was poor, and his brother-inlaw, a petty merchant at Mülheim on the Rhur, was willing to take him as apprentice; so Gerhard, now fifteen, was bound to him for four years. This town was the birthplace of his soul. Acquaintanceship with a pious tradesman was greatly blessed to him; likewise a sudden illness of his own. He began to seek heartily after the Lord; he spent whole nights in reading and prayer. His convictions deepened in intensity; everything seemed utterly insignificant to him, yea, worse than nothing, and vanity, 28 GERHARD TERSTEEGEN. when put in comparison with the concerns of the soul. Finding that his mercantile pursuits were deadening to his spiritual life, he resolved, at the close of his apprenticeship, to choose some quieter employment; even to learn a handicraft by which he might sustain himself. Thenceforth he led almost the life of a hermit, for some years. t ence. The trade he learned was ribbon-weaving, and his only companion, at first, was the person who twisted the silk for his loom. In order to be able to give largely to the poor, he stinted himself wonderfully in the comforts, nay, almost in the necessaries of existHis fare was of the humblest, as also his apparel; but he enjoyed to a great extent the delicious luxury of doing good. Every evening it was his creation to visit the needy and the sorrowful, the sick in body and in soul; and he ministered unto them "according to the comfort wherewith he himself His family were inhad been comforted of God." censed at his mode of life, and he had much to bear from their misunderstanding of his motives; but his God always enabled him to preserve the spirit of meekness. We may not fully approve of the form taken by his self-denial, in reducing his social rank, and voluntarily embracing hardships perhaps unnecessary; but we at least need not be afraid that he will in this have too many imitators. He did His sole occupation, thenceforth, was ministering to the souls and bodies of his fellow-creatures. He had acquired much knowledge of medicine, and used it largely for the benefit of the indigent; so much so that after a time he was compelled to have an assistant in the preparation of his drugs. A number of the sick and needy received meals daily at his expense. But especially did he delight in the preaching work for which he had opportunity. From one place he re-writes: "There is, God be thanked, a great awakening and stir among the people here: for some weeks together, from morning till night, they were compelled I have occasionally had ten, twenty, to wait one for another, to have an opportunity of private converse. even thirty anxious souls with me at the same time. N's discourses, though plain, are of advantage to many, who are by this means awakened. At his request, and that of many who were hungering for the bread of life, I suffered myself to be induced, at the beginning of the present month, to hold a meeting with him. It was a long time since I had spoken in public. Three or four hundred people were assembled; and the house being filled to the very door, they placed I trust About 1725, Tersteegen was persuaded to admit a pious young man to live with him, to whom he should ladders against the windows in order to hear. teach the art of ribbon-weaving; and in the society of it has not been without a blessing." These meetings were considered irregularities by this companion, his habits became somewhat less ascetic than formerly. He also at this time began to compile the Lutheran clergy, who endeavoured, but without and translate various of the writings which were after-effect, to put a stop to them. The mayor of the place In 1727, he first was strongly influenced by a letter from Tersteegen, wards so useful under his name. was induced to speak in public. For years had rich representing to him the inconsistency of prohibiting "I tell no one to stores of Christian experience and scriptural know- these prayer-meetings, while he permitted quack ledge been accumulating in his silent life; now he doctors, mountebanks, gaming-house-keepers, to gather began to use them for the edification of believers, and crowds as much as they pleased. There is no doubt that his earnestness the awakening of sinners. The result showed that he come," said the preacher, "nor will I tell any one to was Divinely qualified for such work; thenceforth he keep away." was abundantly honoured by the blessing of his Master. himself up to it. Continually itinerating about the country, great numbers hastened to hear him speak wherever he went. Such was the demand for his printed sermons, that Hence eight reporters stationed themselves on one occasion above stairs, where they could hear distinctly, and "Geistliche transcribed his words as they were uttered. the book afterwards published, entitled, Brosamen," or Spiritual Fragments. Another means of doing good was his extensive And all his labours were carried on correspondence. in spite of a weak and suffering body; often he arose In one of his letters he says after a fevered night to address a large concourse of anxious inquirers. gave ease. His after career would remind one of a spiritual physician consulted in all sorts of cases of soul disHe gradually obtained a reputation for judicious dealing with the various states of mind of persons under concern for their souls, which procured him continual employment in such ministrations. Numberless letters came to him, numberless visitors, even from other lands. Annually he went to Holland, to stay a few weeks with a Dutch gentleman of high rank, who had derived great spiritual benefit from his writings, and who loved him when he came to know him personally. Tersteegen's own residence at Mülheim, a little cottage which had belonged to a dear Christian friend named Hoffmann, was called the Pilgrims' Cottage, and is called so still; from the circumstance of the many people who were entertained and lodged there, having come to see its master on religious matters. He had no property, nor any apparent means of subsistence except the labour of his hands; for which delicate health ere long incapacitated him. But he was provided for in various ways by the love of his friends. Among the offers which he refused was one from a merchant who wanted to settle an annuity on him; another from a pious lady, who, knowing him only by report, appointed him her executor to a property of forty thousand florins, on condition he would take from it whatever he needed; another from a - Up to the present moment I can scarcely use my head or my eyes, and my hand trembles very much: the little rest I have had, owing to the number of people, may have been the chief reason, and also the many letters I have to write. I cannot think what he A short time people seek from such a poor creature. ago, a person totally unknown to me, but a true Nathaniel, came nearly two hundred miles on foot, in bad weather, to visit me, to whom I could only spare a couple of hours. On 25th February I had again a visit of about twelve persons from the country. No sooner were our friends here aware of it, than I had the house full, so that I had to address some hundreds from the song of Simeon- Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace.' Some say that I have GERHARD TERSTEEGEN. herein preached my own funeral sermon. It is at The exaltation of Christ was indeed his sole object. "The atonement of Jesus, the words of Jesus, the spirit of Jesus, the example of Jesus," were the four things he impressed most strongly on those who came to him for teaching. And he writes, in a sort of ecstacy of devotion: "Jesus! close our eyes in life and in death, that we may no longer contemplate ourselves and what regards us, but commit ourselves entirely to thee, assenting willingly and sincerely to our own nothingness, and thus, in the artless uncarefulness of faith, live and die with thee and in thee!" 29 Tersteegen lived seventy-two years. He was wont to say: "I thank God that he has permitted me to live so long as to enable me to become acquainted with him." He could have endorsed the words of the poet "When to Canaan's long-loved dwelling SUNDAY READING. IN the "Lectures on English Literature," by the late Professor Reed, of the University of Pennsylvania, we find the following remarks on "Sunday Reading:" Every Sunday has its unappropriated portions of He was accused of wanting to head a sect; but no time, and there is a literature to be used appropriately charge made by the world against a godly man was to the day, and beneficially. The week-day opporever more untrue. "Of what religion are the people tunities for reading vary very much with the business who come to you?" inquired a pious reformed minister, and duties of our lives; but our Sundays, with the rest his friend. "I ask not whence they come," replied they bring, put us all more on an equality. The Tersteegen, "but whither they are going!" Humility most punctual attendance on public worship does not was a reigning characteristic. To a friend who asked absorb the day; and, the day's duties discharged, the him to address a meeting, he answered: "I would after hours can have no better employment than that rather hide myself from all the world, than let myself which is in-door and domestic. There are the continbe seen and heard." On another occasion: "I wish gencies, too, that compel the spending of the whole sincerely my name was forgotten by every one, and day at home; and I believe that is a sore trial to those the name of Jesus impressed on every heart." To who have no resources for the employment of it. I do some person who praised his piety: "I had need to not speak of the study of the Bible, because I am not retire into a hovel, and weep over my sins." The willing to treat that as a literary occupation. It stands result of this humility was a brokenness of will before on higher ground, and ground of its own. God. So he writes: "May the Divine promise, 'I will hedge up thy way with thorns, and make a wall, that she shall not find her paths,' be fulfilled in our experience! Let us rather suffer a thousand afflictions with God, than walk in our own way, even in the smallest degree." "In the discipline of habits of reading, it is on many accounts important to draw a line of distinction between week-day reading and Sunday reading. Independently of the propriety of making the reading subservient to the uses of the day, such appropriation is desirable as a means of securing acquaintance with Writing hymns was an employment which he loved. a large and very valuable portion of English literature We know not whether the previously-quoted "Won--the department of its sacred literature being very drous love of God" was one of the hymns of praise which he purposed composing and publishing before his death, but which he lived not to complete. "During my career," he said, "I have through grace experienced many favours at the hands of God, while under the cross, and have been taught many great things concerning him. I wish to close my lips on earth whilst praising this gracious God, and expect through his mercy an endless and happy life in which I may offer up to him, with all the glorified saints, more than an hundredfold tribute of praise. Hallelujah!" Perhaps the religion of this good man verged something upon mysticism; but the bent of his mind was to a singular reserve and solitariness. Yet he so conducted himself with regard to worldly men, as to extort their veneration. An innkeeper residing in the same town, said: "Every time I pass by that man's house, a feeling of reverence comes over me; and the mere recollection of himn often makes as deep an impression on me as any sermon." We have before mentioned the great number of visitors he had: "from Switzerland, from all parts of Germany, Holland, England, Sweden, and other countries; and of all ranks, from the highest to the lowest." They came seeking spiritual profit, and but seldom went empty away. extensive both in prose and poetry; so extensive, indeed, that when this habit is well formed and cultivated, it will be found that the Sunday reading is more apt to encroach on the week-day reading than the reverse. "The choice of books must be not only reverently suited to the day, but also large in their influences. It should be no narrow choice, for such would be unworthy of the manifold power of the day. It may associate with books which are formally and directly connected with sacred subjects, and others no less sacred in their influences, because the sanctity is held more in reserve, acting, it may be, more deeply, because less avowedly. "The sacred literature of our language may be described as containing books on the evidences of religion, sermons, devotional books, church history, biographies of saintly men and women, travels in the Holy Land, sacred allegories and other prose stories, and sacred poetry." The range of subjects here indicated answers very nearly to that with which the readers of the "Sunday at Home" are now familiar. Of didactic and of devotional works there is always ample supply, but something more is required for multitudes who rightly make a difference between week-day and sabbath-day reading. In the first number of the " Sunday at |