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his recklessness cost him his life, for the deep swallowed him down, and he never returned to the light of day.

'O king,' continued the hermit, 'no doubt we recognise in knowledge the source of many benefits. But those who seek it in an irreverent spirit may find in it an abyss in which they may perish, like the diver, but with this difference, that they may too often involve others in their own ruin.' Is that a true story? grandpapa.' It is a fable, and it shews us three ways of seeking knowledge. Which of the ways is the best? Willie.'

'The second son was the only one who took the right way. The eldest was lazy and the youngest was very foolish.'

•The second son did not expect pearls to come to him without his diving for them, but he sought them diligently and found them. This is how we should search the Scriptures. We should not merely read them, but dive for the pearls. Can you tell me what Bible readers are like the eldest son?'

'He was the one who was too lazy to dive for pearls, and only picked up those which the waves brought to his feet. The people who only read the Bible, but do not study it earnestly or diligently are like him. But, grandpapa, who are like the foolish son, who plunged into the deep waters and was drowned?'

'Those who think they must understand all the mysteries in the Bible, before they believe in the Lord Jesus, are like that foolish man. They will not take the pearl of great price which is offered to them, and think they will discover some better pearl's for themselves, and thus they drown their own souls. Read Pro. ii. 1-5, and you will see the picture of one who is sure to find many goodly pearls in the ocean of Scripture.'

"My son, if thou will receive my words, and hide my commandments with thee; so that thou incline thine ear unto wisdom, and apply thine heart to understanding; yea, if thou seekest her as silver, and searchest for her as for hid treasures; then shalt thou understand the fear of the Lord,

and find the knowledge of God." That is like the son who dived for pearls, grandpapa.'

'Yes; and do you remember two parables which are like that passage in Proverbs?'

"The parables of the treasure, and of the pearl of great price. I have found them, grandpapa, (Mat. xiii. 44-46).'

'Again, the kingdom of heaven is like unto treasure hid in a field; the which when a man hath found, he hideth, and for joy thereof goeth and selleth all that he hath, and buyeth that field.'

Long ago people used to hide their most valuable possessions, gold and silver and precious stones, under ground, to prevent their enemies seizing them, and such treasures were sometimes discovered many years after. Christ Jesus is the treasure hid in the Scripture field, and we should search for Him as those who, in olden times, searched for hidden treasures, or as the miner seeks for gold, or the pearl fisher for pearls.

Sir Walter Scott wrote the following lines on the blank leaf of a Bible, a few weeks before he died:

'Within that awful volume lies
The mystery of mysteries;
Happiest they of human race,
To whom their God has given grace
To read, to fear, to hope, to pray,
To lift the latch, to force the way:
And better had they ne'er been born.
Than read to doubt, or read to scorn.

'Hear, O my son, and receive my sayings; and the years of thy life shall be many. Take fast hold of instruction; let her not go: keep her; for she is thy life' (Pro. iv. 10, 13).'

no easy task he undertook. But he had learned with Paul to endure hardship, like the good soldier of the cross that he was. He died in the course of one of his long journeys to Russia in the advancement of his mission, laying down his life in the service of the poor prisoner.

Imprisonment has, at all times in the world's history, been liable to abuse. When a man falls into the power of his deadly enemy, he finds that the tender mercies of the wicked are very cruel. How atrocious are some of the cruelties practised on prisoners among heathen nations! Nor there only; history tells us how, even in our beloved land of Scotland, the brave Sir Alexander Ramsay was seized by his enemy, the Knight of Liddesdale, and thrown into a dungeon where, his only sustenance being some grain dropping from a granary above, he died a lingering death of starvation. And even the son of one of our Scottish monarchs, Robert III., was thus put to death by his uncle, the cruel Albany, though, for a time, some poor women secretly conveyed him food. We can still see in old castles, both in this country and on the continent, hideous dungeons, above whose gloomy portals might well have been inscribed: 'Abandon hope, who enter here.' Go where you may through the habitable globe, you find traces of the inborn cruelty of man's heart, until the better spirit of Christianity comes to soften and elevate it. It was so in the old days of Jewish history as well. The prophet Jeremiah had experience of a dungeon in the house of Jonathan the scribe, which put him in fear of death, and from which he prayed to be delivered. He was cast also into the dungeon of Malchiah the son of Hammelech, being let Idown with cords into mire in which he sunk. When he was afterwards delivered, they had to let down ropes with old clouts and rotten rags to put under his arm-pits as they drew him out of the mire. David must have known something of such dungeons, for he speaks of the fearful pit and miry clay whence he was taken, and his feet planted on a rock. Zechariah the

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prophet, too, speaks of pits for prisoners, with no water in them.

The prison into which Joseph was cast was better ordered. He seems to have found favour with the captain of the prison and been well treated. But his captivity had in it the element of hopelessness. Unjustly deprived of his liberty, he was thrown, without any form of trial, uncondemned, into the prison, and he knew not when, if ever, he should obtain his release. But Joseph was a prisoner of hope. He knew in whom he trusted, and that faith sustained and cheered him. And at last the hour of his release came. His act of kindness to a fellow-prisoner was, after two long years, remembered and rewarded. One glad morning the silence of the prison was broken with the welcome message. Scarce obtaining time to make a change of raiment, Joseph is hurried from the dark prison into the brilliant presence of the Egyptian monarch. His history you know from that memorable hour. Joseph, the prisoner, was in one hour transformed into Joseph, the prince. Prepared by the discipline of those long years of captivity for the great work which God had made ready to his hand, Joseph is a bright example to us of rewarded faith. The God whom he trusted in the prison was his strength and stay in his more trying position on a throne. It is the Lord who maketh poor and maketh rich. He raiseth up the poor out of the dust; He lifteth the beggar out of the dunghill to set him among princes. Joseph is a type of God's people. His history tells us how, from worse than Egyptian bondage, God saves His people, and calls them to higher than Egyptian honours. To be a child of God-an heir of glory is the high hope which lights the Christian on his path, and keeps him free from Satan's bonds.

"When I survey life's varied scene
Amid the darkest hours,
Sweet rays of comfort shine between,

And thorns are mixed with flowers.
Let the sweet hope that Thou art mine
My path of life attend;

Thy presence through my journey shine,
And bless its happy end.'

THE HE building which occupies so con-. spicuous a place in the engraving is the Pyramid of Caius Cestius. It is something quite unique in the architecture of Rome, and gives the immediate locality where it stands quite an Egyptian look. In Rome there are many obelisks, but, as far as we know, there is only one Pyramid. The obelisks have been brought from Egypt. From Egypt, too, the plan of the Pyramid must have been carried to Rome. For Egypt was the home, so to speak, of the Pyramids. There are some seventy of them altogether in that ancient land, and so highly were they admired by the Ancients, that they were reckoned one of the seven wonders of the world. As compared with those of Egypt, however, this Pyramid of Caius Cestius is small, still it is very beautiful and perfect in its pro

portions. To give you its dimensions-it is 125 feet in height, and 100 feet at its square basement. It is built of brick,

coated over with marble. Inside is the sepulchral chamber, where he, whose mausoleum it is, was buried. Outside are the inscriptions, which give his name and rank. From this we learn that he was a Tribune of the people, and one of the Epulones, whose office it was to provide the sacrificial feasts of the gods. All we know of him further is, that he died in the reign of Agrippa, and, at his death, left a large sum of money, that he might be buried with very costly stuffs. As there was a law against this, the money was laid out in rearing the marble pile which perpetuates his name. The Pyramid is thus a very ancient landmark of Rome. And if to-day it looks rather dull and grey, you are to

remember that it bears on it the age of nineteen centuries. Nineteen centuries leave their marks even on the purest of Carrara marble. The astonishing thing is that, in such a lapse of time, the traces of decay should be well nigh imperceptible. How many generations have come and gone around that silent mausoleum! Of how many changes it has been the witness! What revolutions, what battles, what sieges, what storms! But it has emerged from them all unscathed. Time has dimmed its snowy whiteness; but this is all. In every other respect it stands forth to-day the unchanged guardian of the dead.

But this Pyramid has a sacredness over and above what properly belongs to itself. It marks the place, just outside the city walls, where Papal Rome permitted the Protestants of England and America to bury their dead. It would have been too great a profanation of the holy soil of Rome if Protestants had been interred within her walls. But the Pope allowed the burial to take place outside the walls. The place selected was just under the shadow of the Pyramid of Caius Cestius. Here, surrounded by cypresses, as you may see in the engraving, is the Protestant churchyard. It is a beautiful spot. In winter it is covered with violets. In summer the profusion of flowers must add very greatly to the beauty of the scene. It is very touching to visit the cemetery as I did in March last year. In the older portion of it I stood by the grave of Keats; in the newer I found the tomb of Shelley. You could not but feel yourself in a strange land. The blue sky told you that; the pyramid, 'like flame transformed to marble,' confirmed the feeling of strangeness. And yet you were not in a strange land. The epitaphs on the tombstone all spoke to you in your own native tongue. And the blessed words about resting in Jesus, and waiting till the resurrection morning, made you feel that, wherever you are, if only you are near to God, you are near your home too. We saw a great many graves of children. We were told of some parents who had come to Rome, and lost all their

children by fever. How many sad hearts there must be all over the world that turn to that little Protestant cemetery of Rome, where their loved ones rest. What a consolation to know that they rest under a better shadow than that which comes from the Pyramid of Caius Cestius, and that eternal love is the unchanging guardian of all who sleep in Jesus.

There is another circumstance that, to my mind, invests this old Pyramid with a deep interest. Near to it is the gate of St. Paul. This gate (can you make it out from the engraving?) occupies the site of what was formerly called the Ostian gate. Through this gate the Ostian way passes down by the banks of the Tiber, on to what was formerly the port of Rome. Along this way, and through that old gate, a venerable man, surrounded by a company of soldiers, passed one morning to the place of execution. Ever since then that gate has been known as the gate of St. Paul. And ever since then that Ostian Way, where he was beheaded, has been regarded as in a manner sacred. Rome, not Jerusalem, was the goal of the Apostle's life and labours. He understood this himself; for, when he was at Ephesus, he purposed in the Spirit, after he had passed through Macedonia and Achaia, to go to Jerusalem, saying, After I have been there, I must also see Rome. After he had been at Jerusalem, the capital of the world was still kept before him as the last scene of his testimony to the Gospel, for the Lord stood by him at night, and said, Be of good cheer, Paul, for as thou hast testified of me in Jerusalem, so must thou bear witness also at Rome. It was at Rome he bore his last witness. Here he finished his course. The event is written on the city. It is perpetuated by this gate. It lives in the associations of this Östian way.

In my last Peep I told you of Paul's first Roman imprisonment, and his trial before Nero. This trial was followed by liberation, and a period of active service. How long it lasted we cannot tell. A second imprisonment, more close than the first, brought the venerable apostle within sight of another