be revised, and she inserted in it upward of a hundred original hymns, composed either by herself or by the Rev. Hugh White, who had begun life as an officer in the army, but afterward took orders. In this hymn-book, "Just as I am" was first published, and in a short time the sale of the book increased, and it had soon reached the eighteenth thousand. In connection with this, the following anecdote may be told: "A young lady friend was so struck with it, that she had it printed as a leaflet and widely circulated, without any idea by whom it had been composed. It happened rather curiously that while we were living at Torquay, our valued Christian physician came to see us one morning, having in his hand this leaflet. He offered it to my sister, saying, 'I am sure this will please you'; and great indeed was his astonishment at finding that it was written by herself, though by what means it had been thus printed and circulated she was utterly ignorant. Shortly after we became acquainted with the lady who had printed it."

In 1835 Miss Elliott was able to undertake a journey to Scotland, which afforded her great delight. She says:

"When we crossed the Tweed, and entered the land I have so long loved and so often thought of, and so earnestly desired to visit, I felt sensations of unusual delight, blended with heartfelt gratitude to Him who, even in this our brief earthly pilgrimage, provides for us, and delights to bestow, so many varied enjoyments and sweet refreshments. Our friends contrived that I should enter Scotland by a road rich in beauty and in objects of interest. The silvery transparent Tweed, its richly-wooded banks, the fine seats embosomed in woods around it, with the beautiful range of the Pentland Hills, far more beautiful than our favorite Malvern all these things woke up feelings that long had slept in my bosom; and often and often the tear of rapture started to my eye."

In 1836 she was so ill that her life was despaired of; and after this, she had but short escapes from pain; yet she writes thus :

"I dwell upon the thought more and more, that our earthly life is only a short journey, some of its stages wearisome and long, perhaps, but not one that does not carry us nearer to our home; and, blessed be God, not one that is not cheered by His presence, and passed through under His gracious direction; and while these are granted, the soul is happy, and even joyful, though she feels the burden and the clog of a suffering mortal frame. My own mental comfort, I own, almost surprises me, so constant even here is the sense of bodily weariness and indisposition; but the sweet hope, almost amounting to conviction, that all is and will be well with me ultimately, that my light affliction, which is but for a moment, is working out even for me an exceeding and eternal weight of glory-this carries me cheerfully on. And as I do believe my humble prayer will be answered more and more, by the peaceable fruits of righteousness being formed in me, that so before I go hence and am no more seen, my Saviour may really be glorified in my body and spirit which are His, I am not only willing but thankful to suffer, because I believe that it is to make me a partaker of His holiness."

What is specially calculated to impress, if not even to surprise, one, is her patient cheerfulness and her ready appreciation of all that is fresh, beautiful, and impressive. In 1837, she and her sister went to Switzerland, their brother-in-law being their escort. They traveled through the North of France to Brussels and Frankfort, and so on to Basle, only stopping where there were objects of interest, or ministers to whom Dr. Steinkopff had given them introductions. The weather was lovely, and greatly did the novelty and variety exhilarate and delight Miss Elliott, and especially the Rhine scenery. Her sister tells us:

"After reaching Geneva, we felt at once in the midst of friends. Our intercourse with Dr. Malan was renewed; and, in addition, we had the delightful society of Professor Gaussen and his daughter, with whom we made a short tour through the Bernese Oberland. The Alpine scenery and the mountain air seemed to give new life to our dear invalid. Chamouni and the Mer de Glace were

visited, in company with Dr. Malan; and so much was she invigorated, that we ventured the ascent of Montanvert, to see the glorious sunrise over the Mer de Glace at four o'clock in the morning. She went in a chaise à porteur, while I mounted a horse, and rode with Dr. Malan."

In after years, when speaking of this tour, she thus writes to a Scotch friend, who was traveling in Switzerland :

"Yes, my beloved J., the feelings of delight and wonder, and adoring gratitude and praise, excited by the scenes around you, can never be imagined even, much less realized, till the enraptured eye beholds them! And how truly do I participate in your joy, counting all the splendid achievements in the Palaces of Versailles, and the magnificence of Paris, as mere baubles and worthless toys, in comparison with the matchless works of our glorious Creator. To me, those mountains and emerald valleys, and rivers, and waterfalls, awakened such exquisite sensations of delight as I never expected to experience again, till I shall gaze upon the new heavens and the new earth, in still sweeter society, and with an outward frame more suited to them than this feeble mortal

body: though I felt on those heights as if I had already dropped the garments of mortality."

Late in October she returned home, crossing the Jura Mountains, and so through France to Boulogne, her health and spirits greatly invigorated.

Nothing particularly worthy of note occurred in her life for some years, though she was busy with her pen, and wrote some of her finest hymus.

In March, 1842, she wrote to Miss Moncrieff in reference to a proposal that the sisters Elliott should again visit Scotland, and reside for a time with her near Dalkeith:

"If I remember rightly, you have a great love for beautiful scenery and the retirement of the country; and to you, therefore, the romantic and lovely views from the windows of that pretty Gothic house, and from the extensive park of Dalkeith, must prove a daily and hourly delight. How well I remember the rocky hill, the brawling torrent, the winding river, the rich foliage, variegated with Autumn tints, on which the window of the pretty chamber assigned to me looked out, and how greatly must you all enjoy such a residence in the opening Spring! Few earthly schemes could be more pleasurable to my beloved Eleanor and myself, than to visit you and your dear brother in your present beautiful abod, and it may, perhaps, be one of the enjoyments our Heavenly Father may have in store for us, during some future Summer, if our lives be prolonged. But at present our only desire and effort is not to look beyond the day, not to take any thought for the morrow-over which a shade of thick darkness hangs and never was the assertion more strictly verified, which is used as the argument to enforce that injunction, 'Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.' I do not forget the goodness and mercy which have followed us all our days; and that for about half a century our family have been so distinguished and blessed above others as to be a wonder to many; but I do feel that when two-thirds of life have been passed under the wing and in the sweet society and in a growing oneness with a most delightful parent, whose mind has been a fountain of intellectual and spiritual refreshment, whose heart has been a well-spring of ever-flow. ing kindness, sympathy and love, whose graces have become each year more lovely and more mature, that from such a one to be parted for ever in this world, and to have, as it were, to begin life anew, when for us the sun is already low in the sky, and our day of life draws toward the evening-from such a mother the parting ́s like severing a limb from the body, and come what may hereafter, that amputation can never cease to be felt."

The years sped on; and Charlotte Elliott lived much the same life, what to the world would have seemed Winter-time relieved by a short Summer run abroad or to a very painful, monotonous life; her dreary, self-secluded some sweet country residence. Not seldom she was deemed to be near unto death, and despaired of, yet she recovered sufficiently to find pleasure in revising the "Christian Remembrance Pocket-Book," or doing similar work. Her brother Henry, whom she had never dreamt to survive, dropped away before her, to be deeply mourned for, but not without hope. When her weakness made it

impossible for her any longer to attend the church, which she so dearly loved, she said to her sister: "My Bible is my church. It is always open, and there is my High Priest ever waiting to receive me. There I have my confessional, my thanksgiving, my psalm of praise, a field of promises, and a congregation of whom the world is not worthy-prophets and apostles, and martyrs and confessors-in short, all I can want, there I find." At the commencement of her eighty-first year she wrote:

"I feel that so great an age as mine requires three thingsgreat faith, great patience and great peace. Come what may during the year upon which we have entered, I firmly believe that goodness and mercy, like two guardian angels, will follow us during every day, in every hour, in every varying circumstance through which we may have to pass-in every time of trouble sustaining and comforting us-the angel of His presence keeping ever by our side, and whispering, 'Fear not, for I am with thee; be not dismayed, for I am thy God." We may have to part for a short season with each other; but He has promised never, never to leave us never, never to forsake us."

Her sister writes that

"The last manifestation of consciousness was on the morning of her death, when, on her sister repeating to her their text for the day, Thine eyes shall see the King in His beauty, they shall behold the land that is very far off,' she clasped her hands together; and as she raised her eyes to heaven, a beam came over her countenance, which showed that she fully entered into the precious words, and was realizing the glorious vision she was so soon to behold. On the evening of that day, September 22d, at ten o'clock, without any apparent suffering, or the slightest strug

gle, she fell asleep in Jesus, so peacefully that it was difficult to fix the moment when the gentle breathing ceased."

These facts and incidents will have sufficiently shown that Charlotte Elliott exhibited, in a high degree, the virtues of self-denial, patience, faith, love and zeal for good works. An invalid, almost always in pain, she was, notwithstanding, never idle. If in the last resort she had to realize, with Milton, that "they also serve who only stand and wait," she even then contrived to make her work the sweeter for her song; and she never ceased to shed abroad a fragrance of joy, such as would attract the young to religion as few things will. Why should religion be gloomy? The Christian, of all persons, should be cheerful-the dispenser of solemn joy. Charlotte Elliott must be held forth in this great light for a moment, else no justice were done to her. Far from narrow, prejudiced, or irritable, she is exactly the woman you would wish to have beside you either in your happiest or your most sorrowful moments. She has the faculty of touching the most commonplace things with the glow of feeling and conviction: she is always richly experimental, and recommends her teaching. by her character.

SECOND HARLEM BAPTIST CHURCH, NEW YORK.

are arranged in circles, are of ash and cherry. These woods are used also for the doors, wainscoting and finishing of the entire building. The floor of the audienceroom descends from the entrances to the pulpit at the rate of two inches to every two feet. The organ, which is a beautiful and powerful instrument, is placed back of, and about eight feet above, the pulpit. The ventilation of the | building is as perfect as modern science can make it. The baptistery is let into the platform in the usual manner, with the entrance and exit from it so arranged that the candidate is seen only while baptism is taking place.

The Sunday-school-room adjoins the audience-room, on the same level with it, and is separated from it by folding doors and windows. This room, which is used also for social meetings, and can be thrown into the audience-room, embraces a parlor and an infant-class-room. This last room is a gallery over the north end of the schoolroom and separated from it by windows, which can be opened or closed at pleasure. The parlor is immediately under this gallery, and can be thrown into the larger room by means of sliding sashes. It contains a handsome mantel of pure white marble, with fancy tile border and hearth, the whole surmounted with a fine mirror cased in ash and cherry.

The kitchen is furnished with all the modern appliances for social purposes. The Sunday-school library-room, the pastor's reception-room, and the study, are models of excellence. The strong tower, surmounted by its graceful spire, is not only an ornament but a landmark. From the pavement to the point of the lightning-rod is about one hundred and thirty feet.

One of the most pleasant facts in connection with the new building is that it is free from debt.

NIGHT.

IN Thine own temple, Lord, I waiting stand.
Bright stars above, the night is wond'rous fair,
And beauty lingers on the moonlit air;

A holy quiet rests o'er sea and land;
Calm is the face of heaven, peace broodeth there;
As when a mother gently lifts her hand

To hush her child, and bid its murmurs cease, So yonder forest waves and whispers "Peace." Oft have I stood in Nature's solitudes alone, Breathless, for God was there: yet ne'er so blest, Nor felt so near the footstool of His throne,

Nor understood how like to prayer is rest, Rest in His love, which saith, "Thy way is best; What is, let that be, Lord; Thy will be done."

RIVAL PETS.

EVERY Woman is born with a vacant niche within her heart. It is a necessity of her nature that this niche should be filled with some object before which she can kneel and offer up the sweet incense of love and worship. As the

The architec

ture of the new house of worship is a plain and simple semi-Gothic, with no costly carvings or profuse ornament. The audience-room is an amphitheatre, and will seat nearly six hundred people on the main floor. It has an iron-groined ceiling, which, with the walls, is beautifully painted and ornamented in water-colors. The pews, which

girlhood and womanhood, the object changes and expands with her mental and physical growth; but the shrine is never left untenanted. Even from her infancy the maternal instinct is strong within her, and the worship she renders is always blended with protection. If she consents to kneel as a slave, she must also be permitted to reign as a goddess. Fawns, birds, rabbits, all the tender, graceful members of the lower kingdom, find in her a kind and loving mistress. In the picture before us we see a maiden surrounded by her pets, whose fearless confidence tells plainly of their trust in the affection of which they have had so many proofs. Even in this peaceful scene, however, there exist rivalry and jealousy. Bunny resents the

THE scene which forms the subject of our illustration is one that could scarcely be found out of "Merry England." The old stone bridge, the ancient buildings with their queer windows and gables, the time-worn tower of the village church, all speak of an older civilization than ours. Even the group about the smithy is characteristic of the "mother-land." The stout farmer bargaining with the decrepit "chaw-bacon" who sits upon the parapet; the good wife hard by, the children who have brought their shaggy pony to be shod, and the sturdy smith at

have rung beneath the iron tramp of Cromwell's bold troopers, or the roistering cavaliers of dashing Prince Rupert. The march of time, the ruthless hand of modern improvement, bring little change to such rural communities; and when another century has passed, the stout old bridge may still span the quiet steam, the gray stone tower still point heavenward, and the spirit of universal change, that year by year tears away the landmarks of the past, may have left no traces here.

FOR one man who reals the Bible, there are at least twenty who read professing Christians.

FOR righteousness read rightness. Then the text will read, | "For I say unto you, that except your rightness, your notion and idea of what is right, shall exceed the notion and idea entertained by the Scribes and Pharisees as to what is right, ye shall in no case enter into the kingdom of heaven." Given, a ministry which begins in this tone, to know how it will end. It is impossible that it can end otherwise than in crucifixion. The Cross is here.

If the Scribes and Pharisees get to know that a man has been speaking so of them, they will never rest until they kill him. The shadow of the Cross is in everything spoken and done by Jesus Christ. He here assails the religion and the respectability, the learning and the influence of his day. This is more than a speech: it is a challenge, it is an impeachment, it is an indictment of high treason-how then can the speaker finish his eloquence but in a peroration of blood? He must die for this, or play the hypocrite further on. A man who talks so, in any age, even including the nineteenth century, must die. The reason we do not die now is that we do not speak the truth. The preacher now follows those whom he appears to lead: if he put himself into a right attitude to his age, its corruption, its infidelities, and its hypocrisies, he would be killed. No preacher is now killed, because no preacher is now faithful.

Consider who these Scribes and Pharisees were. They were the bishops and clergy and ministers of the day. Suppose a reformer should now arise and say concerning the whole machine ecclesiastical and spiritual, "Except your righteousness shall exceed the righteousness that is turned out of that machine, ye shall in no case enter the kingdom of heaven." I do not know that we should nail him to wood with vulgar iron nails, but we would take care to pinch him so in bread and water as to take the life out of him. Christianity is nothing if not an eternal challenge in the direction of honesty, reality, breadth, charity. Has not the whole Church, in all its fragments and communions, become a mere theological grinding machine for turning out certain quantities and colors, of regulation extent and tone?

Religion was polluted at the well-head. It had become a ceremony, a profession, a dead adherence to dead formalities, synagogue-going, word-splitting, hand-washing, and an elaborate system of trifling and refining. Understand who these men were. They knew the law: the Scribes spent their time in copying it, in expounding, or rather in confounding and confusing those who listened to their peculiar expositions of its solemn requirements. They were not illiterate, so far as the law was concerned: they knew every letter, they had a thousand traditions concerning it, they formed themselves into synods and consistories for the purpose of extending, defining, and otherwise treating the requirements of the law. They were so familiar with it as to miss its music, as we have become so familiar with the sunlight as not to heed its beauty. A rattle, a sputter in the air, will excite more attention than the great, broad, calm shining of the king of day. The Scribes were the men who professed to have the keys of the kingdom of

heaven upon their girdles, and yet Jesus Christ, the reputed son of the carpenter, arises and says to them, "Ye are not in the kingdom of heaven at all; actors, mimics, pretenders, painted ones, ye are not in the spirit and the genius of the heavenly kingdom!" No man dares this day say a word against a bishop or a minister-I speak of all churches, and not of one in particular-without being publicly and severely reprimanded for his impious audacity. Jesus gathered Himself up into one strain of power, and hurled His energy in one blighting condemnation against the whole of the Scribe and Pharisee system of His day. Beware! He was killed! He did not talk against disreputable persons, as the world accounts repute: the Scribes and the Pharisees were the most respectable people of their generation; they were looked up to as leaders and guides by those amongst whom they lived. They were the saints, the pillars of the Church, the lights of the synagogue, the very cream of respectable society : yet this Galilean peasant beards them all, lays His soft but sinewy fingers upon their throats, and says, "Stand back, ye defile and pervert the kingdom ye profess to serve.' Do not, therefore, let us be too bold and too faithful. The cost of integrity everywhere in a corrupt age is—death!

I infer from Christ's treatment of the Scribes and Pharisees that it is possible for men to deceive themselves on religious methods-to suppose that they are in the kingdom. of God when they are thousands of miles away from it. Is it possible that any of us can have fallen under the power of that delusion? I fear it may be so. What is your Christianity? A letter, a written creed, a smal! placard that can be published, containing a few so-called fundamental points and lines? Is it an affair of words and phrases and sentences following one another in regulated and approved succession? If so, and only so, there is not one drop of Christ's blood in it: it is not Christianity, it is a little intellectual conceit, a small moral prejudice. Christianity is life, love, charity, noblenessit is sympathy with God.

My belief is that if Jesus Christ were to come among us to-day, the first thing He would do would be to condemn all places of so-called worship. What He would do with other buildings I cannot tell, but it is plain that he would shut up all churches and chapels. They are too narrow; they worship the letter: they are the idolaters of details; they are given up to the exaggeration of mint, rue, anise, cummin, herbs and weeds of the garden and the field; but charity, nobleness, honor, all-hopefulness, infinite patience with evil. where are they? If judg ment begins at the house of God, where shall the ungodly and the sinner appear? In disputing about the letter, the danger is that we neglect and despise the spirit: we quarrel about trifles; we are founders of sects and parties, and the champions of our own inventions; we pay tithe of mint and anise, and neglect the weightier matters of the law. The Christianity of this day, so far as I have been enabled to examine it, has no common meeting ground. If Jesus Christ came amongst us now, He would have to call upon the leaders of the various denominations,