And

at Mount Sinai, and throughout the wilderness. then, when Moses was dead, he led the tribes into Canaan, and saw God's wonders there. He nobly

sustained his part in life, through a long series of years, and well deserves an honorable rank among "the great men of the Bible."

At this point the stage passengers separated, as earthly travellers must. What effect was produced on the mind of the senator, the writer has not had opportunity to learn. The substance of the conversation is inserted here, with the hope that it may aid others to understand this notable passage in the Bible.

THE SKELETON PREACHER, AND THE

CONGREGATION OF DRY BONES.

EXTRACT FROM AN ANCIENT JEWISH RECORD.

THE valley was wide, long, and very capacious, but the reign of desolation was there. The green grass had spread no carpet over the ground; neither plant nor flowering shrub was to be seen; nor did the tall forest tree, lifting up its majestic form toward heaven, there wave its beautiful branches in the breeze, or cast its refreshing shade around. The naked earth had long been baked and scorched by the rays of a torrid sun. No living form was seen in that deserted and desolate field. Every beast of the forest kept aloof. Nor was it approached by one of "the cattle upon a thousand hills." Even the birds of the air shunned it, as they are said to have shunned the lake of Sodom, and the very winds of heaven appeared paralyzed and powerless when they came to the confines of this kingdom of the dead.

The valley was "full of bones; and behold, there were very many in the open valley; and lo, they were very dry." (Ez. xxxvii. 1, 2.) While I gazed on the sad scene before me, my ear was caught by a strange, unearthly voice. "I am the pastor of this congregation," said the voice; "this day is the seventieth anniversary

of the commencement of my ministry among you, and now I am about to preach again.”

I turned to see the speaker, and behold there stood up in the midst of the valley a ghastly skeleton of dry bones. Its naked, fleshless condition gave it the appearance of unusual tallness, and the long bones on which it stood, and of which it was composed, appeared extremely dry. The ribs had a bleached and wasted aspect, from long exposure in the open plain. The skull was bare and weather-beaten, and the empty sockets, where eyes should have been, had a frightful, ghastly look; the teeth were all exposed, and extremely white. Sometimes he stretched out his long, fleshless arm and hand, and then every bone was distinctly seen. Sometimes he brought his hand to his side, and then his dry fingers would rattle on his naked ribs; and then, again, he would clasp his hands, while the bones would clatter and clank one against another. How he could speak without the use of lungs, or lips, or tongue, I could not tell; but there was a strange, sepulchral hollowness in his voice, and his articulation had a supernatural and horrible distinctness.

As he turned his head to address the different parts of his congregation, the naked skull harshly grated and creaked on the dry neck bones; yet there was an air of gloomy satisfaction in the manner of this skeleton preacher, while he surveyed the multitude before him, as if their situation delighted him much. A haggard expression of approval looked out through the hollow sockets of his eyes, and there appeared on his naked cheek-bone the dim counterfeit of a ghastly smile.

"O ye dry bones," he exclaimed; "this is the anni

versary of my profitable and acceptable ministry among you. It is therefore highly proper that we should mutually rejoice together; yea, that we should mutually rejoice in each other; for few preachers have had such a congregation, and few congregations have had such a preacher.

"O ye dry bones, on this joyful occasion you must allow me to speak freely. I must go into particulars, and rehearse the many things in your present prosperous and promising condition, that afford me rapturous delight.

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First, then, O ye dry bones, I am in raptures while I contemplate you, because you are so steady. Steadiness and stillness are well known as the attributes of profound attention, and thus you bestow the highest encomium on your esteemed and beloved pastor; for what congregation have been so long composed and orderly, under stated and regular ministrations, as you have been under mine? For the term of seventy years, you have been entirely steady, and still, no one of you has moved the breadth of a hair. It is true, O ye dry bones, that a superficial observer might ascribe your stillness to a want of life. Indeed, when I have been boasting of my charge, and telling abroad how calm and composed my congregation continue, notwithstanding the surrounding agitations of a troubled and tumultuous world, it has been broadly hinted to me that my church is dead, utterly dead, and that the stillness there is the stillness of death. But, O ye dry bones, none of these things move me. I scorn calumny and misrepresentation. I maintain that we are conservative; not dead, but highly conservative. A mere itinerant preacher, or transient visitor, cannot judge of

your state as your judicious and experienced pastor can; and he puts a very different construction on the collected calmness and regular habits that have characterized you through a long series of years; yea, the stability and composure that reign among you are the joy of his heart, and the theme of his daily exultation. But I must proceed to the

"Second characteristic. O ye dry bones, I am exceedingly gratified with the uniformity that has long prevailed among you. Who has not heard that consistency is a jewel? Now, O ye dry bones, you are consistent; you are uniform in your habits; I always know where to find you. An uncertain church I cannot bear. But here you are just in the same spot where you were seventy years ago, and just as dry. O, what a privilege to be the pastor of such a church! and what a privilege for a church to have such a preacher! The 'fits and starts,' that have agitated many other churches -the 'spasmodic awakenings,' that have disturbed them have never affected you in the least, since the happy day of my installation as your pastor. You have slept on, O ye dry bones, and taken your rest, from month to month, and from year to year. Indeed, such has been your admirable uniformity, that if I were called on to say which year of my popular ministry among you has been most notable for sound sleeping, and motionless, stagnant inactivity, it would be hard to make the selection.

"In this respect, O ye dry bones, you have been a constant source of comfort and consolation to me. It must be confessed, that our lot has fallen to us in the midst of a restless and agitated world. The kingdom of nature, I am sorry to say, is sadly out of joint. I