examples, it is also true that a very distinct line may be drawn between the two parts of their career. And while we praise them for their virtues, we are none the less severe upon the vices. We may hold them up as glorious examples, but not for all they did, and when we speak of their nobler conduct, it is in language which shows that we know they but redeemed the error of their past. Such men brought within the sphere of nobleness, may be fairly cited as proving that high powers are still folded up within the ignoble and vicious, but how does this apply to the Jewish Patriarchs? What actions of theirs redeemed their sins and their selfishness? In what way did Abraham exhibit contrition for his deceit, or Jacob for his frauds? Had they done so, then the argument would have some weight, but seeing that nothing of the kind is recorded, we are not justified in assuming that they were thus changed. We do not say that it is impossible for good to come out of Galilee, but only that a tree shall be known by its fruits, and having tried the fruits from these Patriarchial trees, and found them to be evil, we are justified in rejecting all apologies and suppositions which do violence to the facts and insult morality.

But the story to which I now invite your attention is less marked, so far as the chief character is concerned by those weaknesses and immoralities observed in those who engaged our attention in the preceding lectures. The story of Joseph stands out from all the preceding, superior alike in the form into which it is cast, in the character of the incidents, and in the feelings and conduct of the hero. It is a perfect Eastern story, and in many particulars surpasses the best of those in the Arabian tale book, though admittedly in some points it is weak and inferior. The Easterns have endeavoured to supply the deficiences, and hence it is, that in so many ways this story is told. In the Koran, great space is given to the "history and trials "and victories of Joseph," but many of the features of the narrative in Ĝenesis are completely changed; not always with advantage, but in some instances the improvement cannot be doubted. In that, too, as in the Jewish history, the object is to set forth that God, by direct interposition, maintains men in the right path. To the Jew and to the Mussulman, and, I may add, to the Christian also, it is a story of Providential guidance and care. Hence it is, that in all discourses upon that topic it figures very largely as an illustration, although the preachers, when they touch upon that point, are compelled to admit the absence of the usual preliminaries. Nor do they seem to see that by such assumptions they remove Joseph out of the world of examples. He only can be an example to mankind who shared its weaknesses, and was left to fight out his own battle. When God comes upon the scene as actively participating in the struggle, then it is not Joseph who succeeds, but Joseph and God, and how could they fail? When I hear of a poor man achieving great ends, I am rejoiced, but if I am told that in all he did he was aided by men of wealth, how can I say the man shall stand as an example? By money the end was gained, and although he was poor, money being freely placed at his disposal, he had no great difficulty to encounter. And so with Joseph. If God was ever by his side as Jews, Christians, and Mussulmen declare, then we have no longer any reason to admire his actions, because there could be no virtue in them. I insist upon this, because justice cannot be done to any part of the fable unless we set out free from all such assumptions, and can look upon it as the story of one who had his doubts, dangers, and trials, and who gained a victory over them.

And looked at from the human point of view, with here and there an exception, it is a beautiful story. But it is in youth that we enjoy it most. Elizabeth and the exiles of Siberia, Paul and Virginia, Joseph and his brethren, and the Vicar of Wakefield, were not all of them full of wonder, and continual sources of delightful tears? Feeling and generosity of sentiment were then fresh in our hearts, and we could spare tears over the sorrows of our kind, without lying under the fear of being mocked for our sentimentality. When older grown we stand in awe of critics, and are ashamed to exhibit any sensibility, lest peradventure, some of our elders may take a sneering laugh at our expense. Well, and why not let them laugh? Better that they laugh than that we lose the nobler side of our character, which we shall do if we submit to their jeering. For does not all noble action, all love of truth and right, and all resolve to work for what is worthy and just, base itself upon the

self-same emotional feelings, which in youth make these stories so dear to us. But the danger of sentimentalism! Yes, I know of that danger, and have no desire to develope it, with all its morbid tendencies. But in our efforts to avoid Scylla, is it wise to run upon the rocks of Charybdis? Train our youth in boarding-schools to avoid sentiment, and may we not lead them into coldness and disregard of what is really noble? It has been recently taught that the stories I have named exert an evil influence in drawing away the mind from what is practical, and it may be equally urged that our mathematical and business studies withdraw the mind from what is beautiful, and generous, and noble. It should never be forgotten that the heart must be trained as well as the intellect, and that feeling as well as reason is essential as part of the framework of man. Lifemust have its tears as well as laughter, its sympathies as well as its convictions, and I confess that I had even rather endure the shame of learning that I had been defrauded of tears by a feigned story of suffering, than belong to the very practical men who boast that they have no tears to give. And hence, in training children, I would press such tales upon them, never doubting, that as a rule, the practical realities of life will be quite stern enough to rub away and blot out any superabundance of sentiment they may have evoked, while leaving behind some of that freshness of heart which is the charm of life.

Turn to the story, as told by the Jews. Jacob loved Rachel, and had served fourteen years really for her. Yet years rolled by and they had no children. Ten children were born unto Jacob before Rachel became a mother, and then the favorite son Joseph was born. And this, be it remembered, before he entered into the arrangement with Laban about the cattle. Some years after, Rachel again became a mother, but did not survive her trouble-that son was the after favorite Benjamin. For some years, however, it seems that the latter was not idolised. He was born, but at what cost! And here we may pause to make the concession, which some seem to look upon as reflecting great credit upon Jacob-that he really loved Rachel, and sorrowed over her loss. Grant its truth, what then? Does love for wife or child serve to compensate society for the wrongs the loving man has heaped upon it? This is the assumption, not only here, but in our ordinary histories. When writers desire to produce a favourable impression about Charles the First, they paint the last scene with his children, and by making him out to be a very loving father, endeavour to cozen us into concluding that he must have been a good king. Let them be answered by the fact, that the most savage beasts that roam the forests still love their young, and surely man must be very low in the scale of creation, if that which is common to the rudest is to be accounted a virtue in him. We concede then that Jacob loved Rachel, but deny that the fact can redeem either the meanness or the falsity of his speech and action when others were concerned. And this love naturally concentrated itself upon the two children she had borne him, although at first Benjamin received but a small share. Joseph was the special favorite, and upon him all the father's fondness was lavished. A robe of many colours should be made for this son, and he should not be exposed to the dangers his brethren had daily to share. Jacob could not part with him to tend sheep or be with the cattle, so that his life was free from toil, as it was free from care. But one little line is introduced that falls, shall I say painfully upon the ear-"He "brought unto his father an evil report of his brethren," which is the Eastern style of saying he was "a tale-bearer," and the indicated fact is natural enough, when we see how he was petted and fondled above all his brethren.

But Joseph had dreams, and what was more, placed confidence in them as of practical value. In this he only shared the common weakness of his age, for dreams were treated as revelations. Indeed, it is hardly fair to say were treated," for that seems to involve that they are not so treated in our own age, which is untrue. There is scarcely a farm-house in the land wherein you will not find devout believers in dreams, and it is exceedingly dangerous to open any debate upon the matter, seeing that they immediately deluge you with instances from Abraham down to the Red Barn, and in addition some of their own, in which "all came true." There is one part, however, they always leave out, and that is the number

that did not come true. Of course the law of chances shows that where so many millions of people will stimulate themselves and take heavy suppers, leading, as by law, to dreaming, some must turn out to be true, and without giving real cause for wonder. The wonder would be if they did not. But in the days of Joseph dreams were more generally relied upon than now, and consequently were related with due solemnity, in order that the listeners might aid in discovering the meaning. Joseph dreamt that himself and his brethren were binding sheaves in a field, that his sheaf arose and stood upright while the sheaves of his brethren stood round about and made obeisance unto his. This dream he told unto his brethren and they grew angry, inquiring "shalt thou indeed reign over us-shalt thou have "dominion over us? And they hated him yet the more for his dreams and for "his words." Again he dreamt, and again he related it unto his brethren. This time it was "that the sun and the moon and eleven stars made obeisance to him." This he also related unto his father who rebuked him, and inquired, "shall I and "thy mother and thy brethren indeed come to bow down ourselves to thee to the "earth. And his brethren envied him, but his father treasured up the saying." The Koran adds "that his father explained to him that the Lord would choose "and teach him the interpretation of dark sayings." But does it not sound curious for Jacob to ask him if his mother should bow down to him, when it is recorded that his mother had been dead so many years? It may mean Leah, but from the tone of the narrative we should infer she was never called Joseph's mother.

Far away from the paternal dwelling the brothers tended their flocks, and Jacob resolved to send Joseph to see how they were going on. Were they well or ill, or what? With his coat of many colours he went after them, from vale to vale, until at length, he heard where they were, and they perceived him as he came toward them. "Behold this pet of our father the dreamer cometh. And they conspired against him to slay him." They the heads of the twelve tribes, or eleven tribes of Israel, conspired against him and said-"Let us kill him. And let us say some evil "beast hath devoured him, and we shall see what will become of his dreams." But in this party there was one who had a brotherly thought left in his heart, and he was Reuben, the one who had dishonoured his father's concubine, and he said, "let us not shed his blood but rather let us cast him into this pit in the wilderness." His object being to deliver him out of his prison. They consented to this, and when Joseph reached them he was soon stripped of his coat and cast into the pit. Thus the work was done, and this band of brothers sat down to eat. And now see sweeping across the desert the trade caravan. Camels and asses are there carrying spices and other articles of commerce down into the land of Egypt. Trade was born, and had grown into active life, and here is the result. "And now that we have "so favourable an opportunity, why not sell him to these merchants, so that we "make money and our brother be removed out of the way?" From out the pit they raise him, and soon for a few pieces of silver, he is converted into a slave and borne away. The kid is killed, his coat dipped in blood and then carried to Jacob. "This have we found, know now whether it be thy son's coat or no?" "Ah, yes, "my son's coat. An evil beast hath devoured him. My son Joseph is, without "doubt, rent into pieces." And now we hold our peace about the past, for though a wronger of men he is still a father, and the sacredness of his sorrow must be respected. Here the sympathies of human nature come into full play, and while he sits to mourn over the one who is not-the one who to him is lost for ever, we feel, that out of this baptism of sorrow 'neath the shadow of death, he may emerge into a purer atmosphere of life, thought, and feeling, and become one of the repentant souls.

We follow the captive and leave the father to mourn. Joseph was borne into Egypt, away to the city of Memphis, and sold as any other of the slaves of his age. A better price obtained for him, doubtless, than was obtained for the Ethiopian, who was equally enslaved in Egypt. His master was chief of the executioners, head of the prison, and a captain of the Royal Guard, a man of mark in Egypt, and likely to preserve intact all the customs of his countrymen. Joseph soon won

the goodwill of his master and became a sort of slave-steward. Not at all uncont mon in the East, even now, for the slave sometimes is the most powerful in the house. But we are told that the wife of this man had conceived a passion for the Hebrew, a passion so strong that it caused her to break through all bonds of feminine delicacy, and exposed her to the madness consequent upon rejection. I shall not enter into any discussion about the probabilities, for of course it is absurd to suppose that all human actions conform to general laws, and what is here related may be true, but undoubtedly has a number of marks to justify strong suspicions against its accuracy. But I would observe that these old writers proceeded upon the idea of the Eastern prince, that whenever there was evil a woman had surely taken part in the matter. Poor Eve, had it not been for her, then all had gone well! Was it not through Sarah that Abraham fell, and Rebekah, was it not she who led Jacob into sin? And Leah and Rachel, was it not they who forced him into the sin of sensuality? So then with Joseph, it can only be in accordance with the old rule to bring a woman forward as his great tempter and enemy. Through her he must lose his purity of character, or endanger his life. I say not, we are to treat of woman as though she were incapable of error or wrong, but I would protest against the continued heaping of wrong upon her shoulders. Let man be just enough to say that of twenty errors he has committed his ten, and at once we have an equality which will lead to great results. But while, on the one hand, we decry her as a great source of sin, and on the other declare her mental inferiority, not only are we doing her a wrong, but injuring our children also, for not until we render full justice to woman, can we hope to have her exercising her due influence in developing a better generation.

But innocent, and untried by any court, Joseph was cast into the prison. Curiously enough, too, in the same house, for his master was the prison-ruler, and, as we find, eventually gives Joseph charge of other prisoners. At first, however, as the story is told, there seems to be another keeper of the prison, perhaps a sort of deputy, and Joseph had soon won his good graces. The commentators tell us that this man believed Joseph to be innocent, and consequently placed far more trust in him than he would otherwise have done. Hence, as is related in Genesis, "the keeper of the prison committed to Joseph's hand all the prisoners that were in the prison, and whatsoever they did there he was the doer of it." Shortly after the king's chief butler and chief baker were cast into prison, for what cause we are not told, but in the Koran, or at least in the notes, we are informed it was for endeavouring to administer poison to the king. How they learnt this we are not informed. But the curious fact which follows in Genesis is worthy of attention. "And the captain of the guard charged Joseph with them and he served them, and they continued a season in ward." How came his master to be thus friendly unto his prisoned slave? There is no hint given in Genesis, but in the twelfth chapter of the Koran we are told that the master did not believe in his guilt. It is there set forth that finding Joseph's robe was torn behind he concluded that he was not guilty and charged his wife with the sin. Still, however, Joseph is confined, which has given the commentators a deal of trouble to harmonise that fact with the preceding. And they are quite as ingenious as any of our own gentlemen of the same tribe, but hardly worth our grave attention. Then follows the dreams-the butler dreams that he pressed the juice out of grapes into Pharoah's hand and gave it to his kingly master as before, and Joseph soon interpreted the dream to mean that he would be restored to his place. Then the baker had his dream to relate. He had dreamt of three white baskets being on his head, the uppermost full of baked meats for the king which the birds did eat out of the basket. And Joseph as readily interpreted his dream, but in a sadder tone. "In "three days the king will lift up thy head from thee, will hang thee upon a tree and "the birds shall eat thy flesh from off thee." So it befel them both.

(To be continued.)

LONDON PUBLISHED BY JAMES PATTIE, 31, PATERNOSTER ROW, AND GEORGE GLAISHER, 470, NEW OXFORD STREET.

Printed by W, Ostell, Hart-street, Bloomsbury.

WHAT TO DO FOR A CHURCH WITHOUT RELIGION? THERE is no sight sadder than that of a man sunk into decrepitude, and idiotcy, who once was known as the strongest in muscle, and the clearest in intellect among a large circle of friends. There he sits with folded hands and sunken eye, alike incapable of independent action, or of comprehending the sorrow of those who surround him. Men who had known Southey in his prime, confessed that it wrung their hearts when they saw him in his latter days. Full well it might, for what calamity could have befallen him which would have reduced him lower, than he was reduced by the loss of all his fine powers of conversation and composition. Literary history affords us many similar examples, to which, however, we need not now more particularly refer; it is enough for our purpose that we suggest the fact, in order to bring our readers into a proper frame of mind for considering the state of affairs in the parish church of St. George's in the East, which in many particulars is but a type of numerous others scattered over the land. They may not present such scenes of riot, but so far as the feelings of the parishioners are concerned, there is no less of dissatisfaction and bitterness. Taken on the whole they compel us to think of what the Church once was, how strong and defiant, compared with what she now is, so weak and uncertain. Time was when with erect head, and authoritative nod she issued her commands, which were laws unto all who heard; but now, with bated breath, she sues for help, and is only too content to be allowed to nourish the hope that her final hour may be still farther postponed. We may not desire her to live much longer; and yet desire her to die decently. It is as when we hear that an able political chief of the opposite party is dead; we are sorry for his loss, and can mourn it as men of human tenderness, which lies deeper than our politics. We never loved the church; and yet, when we remember what she has been, and see the grey hairs upon her forehead, we cannot but feel unfeignedly sorry that in her old age she should be so miserably disgraced, and set at nought by her breadeating children.

It appears that the rector of St. George's is one of that increasing class of priests which has lost all faith in our pure Anglican system. He has no confidence in simple services, sermonising or plain dresses; and yet, poor man, having the cure of souls," how shall he succeed in performing his task ? To be a rector and overseer of so many souls, to have full charge, and, moreover, to be responsible for them, is no trifling matter for a serious-minded man; especially when they cannot be induced to attend the church wherein he VOL. II. N