was distinctively Christian. It is interesting to meet with the institution of the Christian Sabbath very clearly marked in that early age. From that day to this all Christians have agreed to make the day of the Lord's resurrection a day of rest from common labour-a space cleared for communion between the members and their exalted Head.

The case of the young man who, having fallen asleep, fell from a great height, seems to be introduced into the narrative mainly for the purpose of showing the mighty power of God in his restoration. But it reveals incidentally an interesting fact, that the evening sermon on that communion Sabbath was prolonged till midnight. After the assembly was dismissed the preacher needed and obtained refreshing food, and held protracted conversations with inquirers. In this occupation the night was spent, and the earnest groups were surprised by the break of day. Paul and his companions resumed their journey with the daylight, without having retired to rest at all.

This incident does not prove that the preaching of the gospel in the public assembly should ordinarily be prolonged far into the night; but it proves that, on great occasions, when the people are in earnest, and especially if the preacher is about to leave the country with little prospect of returning, if the preaching be prolonged far into the night, nothing harmful or unreasonable has been done. For such an object a night's rest might well be given away.

In modern fashionable society, great companies of young and old not unfrequently protract their amusements till the unwelcome sunlight expose too faithfully their faded finery; and yet some of these very persons would be the first to cry out in most virtuous displeasure against late religious meetings in a reviving time. It is not difficult to thread our way through these labyrinths. The right way may be found and followed. The rule is plain, written clearly by the finger of God on earth and sky: the day for useful labour, and the silent night for rest. But great cardinal points occur here and there in the life of men which invite and justify occasional exceptions. To hear the word of life from the lips of an inspired apostle when you do not expect to hear his voice again, is one of these points; and to watch by the sick-bed of a brother, who needs your help, is another. But so clear is the law assigning the night for rest, that a great solid ground is required to sustain an exception. Such a ground occurred at Troas when Paul preached. Blessed, busy night for the Christians of that place: they would be more refreshed by it than by the sweetest slumbers.

XXXIV.

PAUL'S ADDRESS TO THE ELDERS OF EPHESUS. ACTS xx. 13-30.

Ix sailing from Troas to Assos a ship must go round a projecting tongue of land, and a passenger may cross

the neck of the peninsula and reach the port on its southern side before the ship has made the circuit. Paul alone preferred the short land journey; all the rest sailed round the headland. The details of the voyage, though interesting in many aspects, are not necessary for our purpose: we pass them accordingly, and meet the party at Miletus, the harbour at which they would disembark, if they meant to go to Ephesus. Paul had made up his mind not to visit Ephesus at this time, not because he loved it less, but because he loved it more. He can afford to go on shore at Miletus, for that place had not power to detain him, when he was bent on another object; but knowing himself and his friends, he has a presentiment that if he go up to the city to visit them, farewell to his prospect of being in Jerusalem at Pentecost. Because his love of the disciples at Ephesus was very great, therefore on this occasion he did not venture to entrust himself among them. Having landed at Miletus, he sent a message to the elders, requesting them to meet him on the seashore. The distance was about thirty miles. These same men who are here called elders are addressed (v. 28) as bishops.* And so it is placed beyond controversy that at that early date a number of grave and good men, named indifferently elders or bishops, were conjoined in the oversight of the disciples resident in one city.

The address which Paul delivered to the Ephesian elders at Miletus is recorded at considerable length. It is a precious and pregnant document. It is a rich legacy to the Church in all ages and all lands. It does not accord with our plan, however, to expound and apply this discourse with a fulness proportionate to its intrinsic worth. Precisely because of its exceeding richness, we must leave the greater part of it untouched; for even a moderately full exposition of this chapter would occupy all the space that can be allotted to this series. A few detached expository and practical notes on some of its leading topics must for the present suffice.

After some very tender allusions to Jerusalem, and the uncertainty of the reception that awaited him there, he proceeds (v. 25) to deal very solemnly and faithfully with the bishops of Ephesus regarding the edification of themselves and their flock. Personal affections are freely employed whenever they can be of use. He would hardly be justified in wounding their loving hearts by

Controversial matters are in these expositions sedulously avoided, but this point is not now properly a matter of controversy. The most learned and eminent critics of the episcopal communion acknowledge frankly that the term translated overseers," should have been rendered bishops, as it is in all other places where it occurs.

It may be satisfactory to some of our readers to see the late Dean Alford's note on this subject. "So early did interested and disingenuous interpretations begin to cloud the light which Scripture might have thrown on ecclesiastical questions. The English version has hardly dealt fairly in this case with the sacred text in rendering maкOTOυs (v. 28) overseers, whereas it ought there, as in all other places, to have been 'bishops,' that the fact of elders having been originally and apostolically synonomous might be apparent to the ordinary English reader, which now it is not."-Alford on Acts xx. 28.

express allusion to the fact that this was the last interview, if the grief could not be made conducive to his great aim. But he desires to print a great resolution deep on their hearts, and thinks it needful to get these hearts first of all melted. He softens the material by the flame of a great brotherly love, and then applies his prepared seal. Sometimes the departure of a faithful minister from an affectionate flock has produced a greater amount of good than his sojourn among them. Those who slumbered while the mill was going, may be awakened by the silence when the mill is stopped.

He takes them to witness that, in his comparatively lengthened ministry at Ephesus, he had so fully declared the gospel, that he remained "pure from the blood of all men." The form of expression is striking and memorable. It is borrowed from the crime of murder, and the method by which guilt is ordinarily brought home to the criminal. In many cases conviction depends on blood being found on the clothes of the murderer. Hence in almost all cases of violence we hear of desperate efforts being made by the terrified evil-doer to efface the stain. These efforts, and the testimony connected with them, bulk largely in criminal trials.

This is the conception that leaps into the apostle's mind. He cannot hope that all who have heard the gospel from his lips in the city are now in Christ. He fears that some of them may be still under condemnation. If they die in their sins, how unspeakable the loss--the loss of a soul! He shudders at the thought: and in order to quicken their diligence when they should return to their labour, he endeavours to impart some of his own terror to the elders. He in effect invites them to look to their hands and garments to make sure that there is no blood on them.

The double application of his warning, "Take heed," presents very vividly some great lessons. The logic and the theology of the sentence are equally good. The first care of the spiritual shepherd is for himself; the next for the flock. In some parts they paint garden walls black, that they may absorb more of the sun's heat and so impart more warmth to the fruit-trees that lean on them. Those who in any sphere care for souls, stand in the position of the garden wall. The more that the teacher absorbs for himself of Christ's love, the more benefit will others obtain from him. It is not the wall which glitters most in the sunshine that does most for the trees that are trained against it. It is the wall which is least seen that takes in most heat for itself; and the wall that has most heat in itself gives out most for the benefit of the trees. So it is not the preacher who flashes out into the greatest flame himself that imparts most benefit to inquirers who sit at his feet. Those who drink in most of the Master's spirit are most useful

in the world. Those who first take heed to themselves will be most effective in caring for the spiritual weal of those who look up to them.

The Church of God, considered as a flock, has been purchased by his own blood. The term purchased points to a possession obtained by a price. Israel in the typical dispensation were acquired as the Lord's portion at the Exodus by the blood of a lamb; but the true Israel of the New Testament by his own blood. The price paid for them enhances their value. The greater the sum that any possession costs, the greater care is bestowed upon it. How can the under shepherd lightly esteem the flock, which the Chief Shepherd bought with his blood! This is the strongest motive which Paul could think of to draw forth the assiduity and faithfulness of pastors.

As an additional ground by which to enforce his injunctions to earnestness, he intimates that after his "departure" grievous wolves will enter the fold. The word departure is ambiguous. It may mean simply the speaker's departure from Asia on his voyage to Jerusalem, or it may mean his departure from this life. I think Paul employed the term precisely because it was ambiguous. He secretly thought of the ravages which would be committed among the Ephesian Christians after his owa death; but he expressed it softly, that they might in the first instance think of his leaving them for that time. But the word would return with new power to their memory, when the news reached Ephesus of the apostle's martyrdom.

In such cases this great missionary always felt himself in a strait betwixt two. In prospect of heresies and immoralities rending and defiling the Churches, he desired to abide in the flesh, that he might help the feeble; but for himself the prospect of departure was sweet, for it would bring him straight to Christ.

The "grievous wolves" here point not to persecution from without, but corruption within. The conception must be framed in consonance with the parallel,—wolves in sheep's clothing. They enter in; and when they are in they destroy. They are admitted as friends; and by being inside have more power to do mischief.

These warnings are not of private interpretation They are written for our admonition in this end of the world. The flock in our day is exposed to the same dangers. The presence of false teachers within the fou of a Protestant Church is the gravest fact of the day fr all intelligent and true-hearted disciples of Christ. Prayers and pains must go together. We must cry mightily unto God, and strive mightily with men. "The Lamb shall overcome them; for he is King of kings, and Lord of lords: and they that are with him are called, and chosen, and faithful" (Rev. xvii. 14).

S

OME kinds of creatures live in water; and some live in air. The two classes are widely different. Creatures whose nature it is to live under water, will die if they are exposed for a short time in the air; and creatures whose nature it is to live in air, will die in a short time if they are kept under water. A man placed under the water gasps two or three times and dies; he is drowned. A fish taken out of the water gasps two or three times and dies; it is drowned too.

The bodily organs, such as the lungs, on which the life directly depends, are not the same in animals that inhabit the water and animals that inhabit the land. Fishes are made for breathing water; land animals are made for breathing air. In fishes the blood is renewed and purified by drawing in fresh water; and in land animals by drawing in fresh air. If a fish get nothing but air to breathe, its organs being made for water, it cannot live; if a land animal get nothing to breathe but water, its organs being made for air, it cannot live.

It is the instinct of each creature to like its own proper element. A fish struggles very hard against you when you attempt to draw it out of the water; and a cat struggles very hard against you when you attempt to plunge it into the water. Every creature acts after its kind. They are fearfully and wonderfully made.

I must explain here, however, that there is a class of creatures, such as whales and porpoises, which live always in the water, and yet cannot live under the water. Although they spend all their time in the water, and can neither walk on the land nor fly in the air, yet for my present purpose they must be classed with animals that live in the air. Their lungs are made for breathing air, like our own; and if they are kept beneath the water a long time, they will be drowned. It is on this account that whales are so easily caught. They cannot remain long under water, like fishes. They can dive well; but they are obliged every now and then to thrust their great heads out of the water for breath; and it is then that the fisherman plunges his harpoon into the poor creature's flesh.

There is no animal that can live either in air or in water. Every creature must live in the one or in the other. Those that are made for breathing air cannot long survive in water; and those that are made for breathing water cannot long survive in the air.

But there are some kinds of living creatures that for

one part of their existence live under water, and for another part live in the air. At a certain stage they pass through a mysterious change. Their organs are changed so, that while they once could breathe only water, afterwards they can breathe only air. They pass from a lower to a higher kind of life. They become new creatures. There is a resurrection out of one kind of life and into another.

The dragon-fly is one of these. This magnificent insect does not abound much in our country. It is seen on warm autumn days flying about in the neighbourhood of rivers and lakes. It is not a butterfly, but it is like one. Butterflies feed upon something which they find in flowers, like the bees; but the dragon-fly is a greedy, bold beast of prey. It has been seen to seize a large butterfly, and settle down on a branch with its prey. It bit off the wings first, as being useless, and in one minute swallowed the whole body. It seizes and swallows beetles and other insects. In this it does good service, for it destroys some creatures which, if left alive, would have done damage to the fruit and corn.

You will recognize the dragon-fly the moment you see it. Its wings, four in number, are long, and very beautiful. The prevailing colours are varying shades of blue. The body is long and slender. It is altogether much larger, and much more striking in its colours and movements, than the common insects of this country.

But what of the young ones for next year?-for the old one never survives the winter. This is the strange and mysterious feature about the creature's nature. The mature fly alights on some leaf or flower that is floating on the water, plunges a large portion of her body under the surface, and lays her egg. She then leaves it to its fate, and never sees it again. The mother has no knowledge of her young, and no care about it. Meantime the egg is hatched, and produces a little active worm, that creeps about on the muddy bottom, catching and eating other creatures smaller than itself, and protected from the frost that killed its mother in the upper regions. After a while this worm undergoes a change, somewhat like that which passes on the land caterpillars when they lay themselves up in the state called pupa, preparatory to becoming butterflies. There is one great difference, however, between the pupa of the dragon-fly and that of the butterfly-the young dragon-fly is very active, whereas the young butterfly is as stiff and still as if it were dead. The little creature in the third stage of its life— for it was first egg, then larva, and next pupa-is no

"I was the owner of the ship Diana, and was bringing a rich lading of gold-dust from Africa, when the ship went ashore on some rocks, and was stranded. The crew saved themselves in the boats. I remained by the ship, and was at last washed overboard by a great wave. I quickly sank to the bottom of the sea, but found it quite a different place from what I had expected. There were no frightful sea-monsters, no sharks and saw-fish and such like to be seen, but instead of that, I found myself before the doors of a golden palace, that was illuminated by numberless diamond chandeliers. A host of servants in fine silk clothing went out and in, and two of these at once received me, and led me through a suite of rooms decorated with the most costly pearls and jewels, to a great hall, where a splendidly bedecked princess sat on a golden throne.

"She inquired whence I came, and how I happened to visit her palace. I told her that my ship had gone down with all I possessed on board, and entreated her to make me some amends for my losses out of her enormous riches. She was very gracious, and assured me she would indemnify me richly for all I had lost. Then she commanded two attendants to take me to her treasury, and let me help myself to whatever I wished. We went first through a suite of splendid rooms, then through a garden, in which the strangest and most costly flowers grew. The stalks and leaves of these flowers were composed of the finest emerald; the petals were rubies, sapphires, topazes, amethysts, and other precious stones. I could not stay long to admire them; the servants hurried me on to another building, of which they opened the door with a golden key.

"This edifice contained seven halls. In the first were great vessels filled with the finest pearls, round, and pear-shaped. In the second hall were whole baskets full of well-cut brilliants, rose, and table-formed. In the third hall rubies lay as deep on the floor as corn in our barns at harvest-time. In the fourth it was the same with emeralds and sapphires. In the fifth stood silver vessels, and baskets of different forms of the finest filagree work. The sixth contained the same sort of things in gold; and the seventh was filled with flowerpots made in turquoise, in which grew flowers of precious stones, like those I had seen in the garden. The servants told me repeatedly that it was their mistress' will that I should choose out of all these treasures whatever I liked best. It was very difficult to choose where all was so costly and beautiful; but as there was not much time allowed me, I at once began to gather out, and set aside, all that I fancied most, though I often came to what seemed better still than anything I had chosen. But as the attendants hurried me, I soon

to find out how I was to carry away what I had selected. The servants came to my aid in this perplexity. They brought me baskets of different sizes, woven in silver wire, in which I packed my treasures. I loaded them with the baskets, and they bore them away. I wished to thank the princess for her more than royal bounty, so two other servants led me again to her presence. I assured her, with the warmest thanks, that all my wishes were more than satisfied, and that my only remaining desire was to convey my treasures home, and never to lose them.

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"As to the first of these desires,' she said, 'I will take care that you reach your home in safety; and should you ever find your riches diminishing and likely to come to an end, you have only to write to me, and I will give you a new supply.' With these words she handed me a diamond pen, and said, 'When you want anything from me, just dip this in sea-water, write your letter with it, on a sheet of black paper, throw the letter into the sea, weighted with a stone, and it is sure to reach me; and I will have all you want laid on the shore next morning, whence you can fetch it.'

"When I left her presence I found a golden carriage awaiting me at the palace door, to which four transparent blue sea-horses were attached. All my treasures were already in the carriage, and I got in too. The sea-horses set off with the swiftness of the wind, and soon brought me to the surface of the ocean, where a ship awaited me, which took me and my treasures on board, while the carriage and horses returned to the deep. I now live in Amsterdam in a splendid mansion; my treasures have in some degree diminished, but I still have plenty, and I have the diamond pen with which I could easily procure more should I be in need."

This strange man finished his extraordinary story with the same grave earnestness with which he began. We, his auditors, looked at each other with doubtful glances, in which the inclination to laugh and pity struggled for the mastery. The old gentleman said kindly, "You have dreamed all this, have you not?"

"Dreamed!" he exclaimed, "you can easily be convinced of the truth of every word by coming to visit me in my palace. There I will show you the silver baskets and the jewels, and then you will learn not to doubt my word. Besides, I always carry my pen, my diamond pen, with me, and seeing that will surely convince you of the truth of what I have told you."

Several of us made large inquisitive eyes while the Amsterdamer drew out of his side-pocket a red leather case, and opened it carefully, saying, "See here, gentlemen; here is the diamond pen; you never saw the like before."

We looked, and looked, and saw-nothing more, and nothing less than-a sea-pen,* such as is constantly found on the sea-shore.

The sea-pen (pennatula) belongs to a class of polypous zoophytes, and is a very remarkable creature, composed of multi