God had forbidden, and such as would have ruined Isaac.

Who that saw Solomon at the altar of the Sidonians on Olivet, in full sight of the Sacred Temple, could believe that in his youth he had laid the foundation of that gorgeous edifice, and at its completion uttered the sublime prayer of dedication. He was now an apostate priest, a disloyal king, the champion of error, undoing the work of a lifetime --he who had been so blessed, and saw such visions! No one who saw the bridal pageant when the king led the woman of Egypt to the altar, could have predicted such an end. But "his wives turned away his head after idols." On the summit of Olivet he built heathen altars. He bowed down and worshiped the work of his own hands. He sent on the curse to his children's children. No doubt he repented, and the book of Ecclesiastes was the work of his repentant old age.

Youth is not the only season of peril. Increasing years demand increasing vigilance. It is no time to lay down the watch, call off the guard, and invite temptation. Age has dangers peculiar to itself. When Solomon was young, strong in God, and guarded by his fear, no heathen woman could have led him astray. But when he was old he was an easy victim. The sin that kept Moses from the land of promise was the sin of ripened years. The crime of Eli, that could not be purged "with sacrifice nor offerings," was committed when the priest "was very old." David, when he quailed before Nathan the prophet, in the matter of Uriah, seems not the same

person who, as a ruddy youth, defied and defeated the uncircumcised Philistine.

The best things men do have been done in comparative youth. The worst, in age. Men usually publish their best works and establish their fame before they reach mature life, or not at all. Those who apostatize from the truth, and attempt to destroy the faith they once preached, usually wait till they become old. Arnold was a young man when he was wounded in the cause of American liberty. But when he became old he bartered the honor of his country for gold. Paine, Voltaire, Bolingbroke wrote their vile works against the religion of the Son of God after they had passed the meridian of life. The passions of men, their presumptuous but secret sins gather strength from age. They get dominion

over men.

Each season has its own peculiar peril. That of youth attends the start. Age is dangerous as it nears the close. The noble ship, that has braved the tempest and the gale, comes in from its voyage around the globe, and goes down within sight of land. The soldier, home from many a bloody battle, who walked unharmed as the red-hot missiles of death rained around him, saw thousands of his comrades die on the battle-field, from which he passed out unhurt, dies within sound of the church-bells of his own loved home. The traveler comes back from the abode of the plague, and amid the healthy breezes of his native hills lieth down, and riseth not till the heavens are He who for gain or glory sleeps where the pestilence with its silent tread walks forth on its

no more.

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mission of death, gives up the ghost in sight of the smoke that curls from his own hamlet. So age often stumbles when near the end of its race. When mem

ory holds not the things of yesterday, when the strong man bows himself, and strand after strand of the silver cord is snapped, and the passions seem to have died out, temptations come with terrific power, sweeping away the reputation of years, and hurling the old man into a dishonored grave. Men master the perils of youth, overcome the temptations of manhood, then welcome the enemy, and, when their heads are bleached with years, fall from their steadfastness, and are blotted out from among the good. The Mount of Offense is full of warning to age.

XXIL-THE PLAIN OF ZAANAIM; OR, BUTTER IN A LORDLY DISH.

war.

"Sin has a thousand treacherous arts

To practice on the mind;

With flattering lips she tempts our hearts,

But leaves a sting behind.

With names of virtue she deceives

The aged and the young;

And, while the heedless wretch believes,
She makes his fetters strong."

AN ignominious peace is worse than a righteous A servile submission to wrong is a greater evil than garments rolled in blood. In the time of Deborah the government of Israel was weak. Among forty thousand men, there was not one soldier, nor one shield or spear. Armed men and robbers overran the land. Marauders and highwaymen made life insecure. No home was safe. No home was safe. Women were shot as they went to the well for water. Business ceased. No furrow was turned-no seed sown-no trade prosecuted. Men were effeminate, and God raised up a woman to save the land. Deborah arose, and she called Barak to be captain. But little patriotism was there in the land. Some willingly responded to defend the nation. The "governors of Israel offered themselves willingly among the people." Reuben was divided and chose to abide among the "sheepfolds, to hear the bleating of the flocks."

Gilead was safe beyond Jordan. Dan remained in ships. Meros refused to come "to the help of the Lord against the mighty." But a noble company were ready to "jeopardize their lives unto the death." The cowardly, the timid, the selfish were sent away. Yet there remained to Deborah the noble army of forty thousand, who would turn their backs on no foe.

God helps those who help themselves. Unexpected aid came. The stars in their courses fought against Sisera. The river Kishon swept away the foe. The great captain, with his war-chariot, horsemen, and mighty men of war, were routed and broken, and Sisera fled alone, in dismay and disgrace. Beyond the camp of Israel was pitched the tent-home of Heber, the Kenite. He was a Gentile, and a friend to Sisera's master, the king of Hazor. "There was peace between the house of Jabin, the king of Hazor, and the house of Heber." The discomfited captain "lighted down off his chariot, and fled away on his feet;" "he fled away on his feet to the tent of Jael, the wife of Heber the Kenite." The reception was all he had expected. He was well known to Jael. She saw him approaching, with the shame of defeat on his brow, who had left her tent so short a time before in the pride of a haughty conqueror. His splendid army had been cut to pieces, "and there was not a man left." All his chariots were captured, and his "horses' hoofs broken by the means of the prancing of their mighty ones." An oriental welcome awaited him. Jael went out to meet him. She bade him enter and "fear not." "She covered him with her