For the first time for a number of years the Sigiri Rock in Ceylon has been scaled by a European, the feat on this occasion being performed by General Lennox, who commands the troops in the island. It is said, indeed, that only one European, Mr. Creasy, ever succeeded in reaching the summit. The rock is cylindrical in shape, and the bulging sides render the ascent very difficult and dangerous. There are galleries all round, a groove about four inches deep being cut in the solid rock. This rises spirally, and in it are fixed the foundation bricks, which support a platform about six feet broad, with a chunam-coated wall about nine feet high. The whole structure follows the curves and contours of the solid rock, and is cunningly constructed so as to make the most of any natural support the formation can afford. In some places the gallery has fallen completely away, but it still exhibits flights of fine marble steps. High up on the rock are several figures of Buddha; but it is a mystery how the artist got there, or how, being there, he was able to carry on his work. The fortifications consist of platforms, one above the other, supported by ma.s.sive retaining walls, each commanding the other.

Owing to the falling away of the gallery, the ascent in parts had to be made up a perpendicular face of the cliff, and General Lennox and four natives were left to do the latter part of the ascent alone. The top they found to be a plateau about an acre in extent, in which were two square tanks, with sides thirty yards and fifteen feet respectively in length, cut out of the solid rock. A palace is believed to have existed on the summit at one time, although time, weather, and the jungle have obliterated all traces of it. During the descent the first comer had to guide the foot of the next into a safe fissure, but all reached the bottom safely after two and a half hours.

It is said that the amount of work expended on the galleries is incredible, and the writer of the account of the feat doubts if all the machinery of modern times could accomplish the stupendous work that was achieved here in old days by manual labour alone.

A QUEER FISHERMAN.

Monkeys and apes are (remarks a writer in _Harper's Young People_) always amusing creatures, and it is great fun to watch their tricks. But there is one ape, a native of the island of Java, who outdoes most of his relatives in the way of being ridiculous, especially when he amuses himself as a fisherman. This ape is very fond of sh.e.l.lfish, and there is a certain kind of sand-crab that suits his palate exactly. These crabs dig little homes for themselves deep in the sand, and thither they retire when they want a quiet rest, or when any danger threatens. When all is well, they spend their time sunning themselves at the entrance of their holes, or hopping along the water's edge in search of food. The apes know their ways, and while the crabs are looking for a dinner they also are bent on obtaining one for themselves. Apes, you know, can move very quickly. They wait until they see a party of crabs apparently unconscious of danger, and busily engaged in discussing a bit of seaweed, or devouring the insects they are so fond of. Moving stealthily forward, as close as they dare, the ape gives a sudden leap, and seizes as many as possible of the poor, unsuspecting crabs, which are speedily crunched into a shapeless ma.s.s by his strong jaws, and devoured. But the crabs are very active too, and it often happens that they will take alarm in time to scamper quickly to their holes, and so cheat the ape out of his antic.i.p.ated meal. When this occurs, the ape has recourse to a stratagem which proves how intelligent he really is, and which makes him appear, as I have said, one of the most amusing and ridiculous of creatures. The ape of Java, unlike others of his species, possesses a very long tail. He moves quietly up to the hole into which he has seen the crab disappear, thrusts his tail into it, and awaits events. The crab, indignant at such an intrusion, makes a spirited attack, and fastens upon it. This is precisely what the ape wants. He gives a sudden spring forward. The crab, having no time to collect his ideas, is drawn to the surface, and in a moment the ape has him in his claws. Poor crab!

victim of his anxiety to punish the invasion of his home.

One traveller tells us that "there is a comical look of suspense on the ape's face as he thrusts his tail into the hole, and waits for the crab to seize it."

SAVED BY GRACE.

Agreeably to your wishes, I send you the following account of W. B----, who had lived a dissolute life for nearly forty years.

He was notorious for drinking and Sabbath-breaking, and his general deportment was so abandoned that he was wicked even to a proverb.

On Sat.u.r.day evening, March 4th, he attended a funeral, and from the place of interment he immediately betook himself to a public house, where he became so intoxicated that it was with some difficulty he reached his own habitation. No sooner was he laid down upon the bed, and composed to sleep, than the words of Eliphaz were verified in his experience--"In thoughts from the visions of the night, when deep sleep falleth upon man, fear came upon me, and trembling, which made all my bones to shake," for he dreamed a frightful dream. He thought he saw a serpent of the hydra kind, with nine heads, ready to seize him. Whatever way he turned, a head presented itself, nor could he, by all the methods he devised, extricate himself from the baneful monster. He awoke in great distress. Though it was but a dream, it made a strong impression upon his mind, and he was afraid it portended some future evil.

The next morning, one of the members of our meeting, as he was going to the house of G.o.d, observed him in a pensive posture, and asked him if he would go with him and hear a sermon upon the old serpent. The sound of the word _serpent_ arrested his attention, and excited his curiosity to hear what I had to say upon such a subject. But for this expression, probably the poor man had remained unmoved. Why the person used it he could not tell, nor why he invited him to accompany him that morning--a thing which he had never done before. But He could tell who, in the days of His flesh, "must needs go through Samaria," and whose providences are always in coincidence with the purposes of His grace.

As soon as prayer was ended, I preached from Genesis iii. 13-15, "And the Lord G.o.d said unto the woman, What is this that thou hast done? And the woman said, The serpent beguiled me, and I did eat. And the Lord G.o.d said unto the serpent, Because thou hast done this, thou art cursed above all cattle," &c.

As I was explaining who that serpent was, and the methods he took to beguile sinners, the Lord opened the poor man's eyes, and the Word had free course and was glorified. From that moment he gave every demonstration of a real change of heart. About four or five months he continued in the pangs of the new birth. The anguish of his soul was great indeed. He perceived the number of his sins, and felt the weight of his guilt. For some time he was tempted to despair--I may say, to put an end to his existence--but while he was musing on his wretched condition, these words were applied as a sovereign remedy to his afflicted soul--"Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved." This administered all the joy and comfort he stood in need of.

Now he was enabled to believe that Christ was as willing to forgive as He was mighty to redeem. The burden of his guilt dropped from his mind, as Pilgrim's did at the sight of the cross, and immediately he "rejoiced with joy unspeakable and full of glory."

I was with him a little while after, and with a heart overflowing with grat.i.tude to G.o.d, he showed me the place of his Bethel visit, where the Lord had opened to him His bleeding heart, and manifested His forgiving love. He seems to be, as the Apostle expresses it, "a living epistle of Christ, seen and read of all men."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "ONE OF THE MEMBERS OBSERVED HIM IN A PENSIVE POSTURE."

(_See page 156._)]

TWO BRAVE CHILDREN.

The sky at night in the vicinity of Apple Creek, in Dakota, a few weeks ago, was red all around the horizon, and the people knew that the prairie fires were burning. Every evening, as darkness fell, the farmers saw the glare becoming more and more distinct, and during the day the smoke increased until it was nearly suffocating.

Not far from Apple Creek is the little village of Sterling, and near Sterling lived the Stevens family. Mr. Stevens was away from home on the day that the fire approached the house, and it so happened that his wife was sick in bed. Their children were a girl of eight years and a boy of eleven. The boy had heard that it was a good thing to plough a furrow across the path of the advancing flames, and about noon of the day in question he tried to protect the property in that manner. With the two-horse team and plough he cut a trench around the house and sheds, and then another trench around the stacks of unthreshed wheat. He was not strong enough to plough the trench to a great depth, but the wide line of damp earth thrown up would be hard for the flames to leap across, especially since his little sister followed him around, carrying away all trash that would add to the fury of the flames.

That night the fire was so near that the poor woman thought of getting out of bed, with the purpose of attempting to escape, but she was too ill to try such a thing. Moreover, she knew that if her husband could reach the house he would come, and she watched and prayed as the light came to her room from the crimson skies without.

When the flames, running before the wind, came down upon the Stevens'

place, they licked up the fences in an instant, swept away the shocks of grain in the fields, and then rolled suddenly up to the furrows ploughed by the boy. The wheat stacks fell a prey, and numberless sparks were scattered around the house; but the brave boy and his sister ran all about, trampling out the fire wherever it caught.

The little workers were desperate, for they knew that, should the house burn, their poor mother would surely perish in her bed. They fought with brooms, shovels, and water. Wherever they could they dug up fresh earth, and for a quarter of an hour they did not pause for a single moment.

Once the house caught, and the wood began to add its crackling to the rush and roar of the vast prairie fire; but the children dashed bucket after bucket of water upon the burning spot, and so put it out. They carried the day. The great fire swept past, and in its wake came the father, half frantic with joy to find that his little hero and heroine had saved their mother's life.--_Examiner._

A HINT TO BOYS.

If I were a boy again, and knew what I know now, I would not be quite so positive in my own opinions as I used to be. Boys generally think that they are very certain about many things. A boy of fifteen is a great deal more sure of what he thinks he knows than is a man of fifty. You ask the boy a question, and he will answer you right off, up and down.

He knows all about it. Ask a man of large experience and ripe wisdom the same question, and he will say, "Well, there is much to be said about it. I am inclined, on the whole, to think so-and-so, but other intelligent men think otherwise."

When I was about eight years old, I travelled from Central Ma.s.sachusetts to Western New York, crossing the river at Albany, and going by ca.n.a.l to Syracuse. On the ca.n.a.l-boat a kindly gentleman was talking to me one day, and I mentioned the fact that I had crossed the Connecticut River at Albany. How I got it into my head that it was the Connecticut River I do not know, for I knew my geography very well then; but in some unmistakable way I fixed it in my mind that the river at Albany was the Connecticut, and I called it so. "Why," said the gentleman, "that is the Hudson River." "Oh, no, sir," I replied, politely but firmly. "You're mistaken. That is the Connecticut River." The gentleman smiled and said no more. In this matter I was perfectly sure that I was right, and so I thought it my duty to correct the gentleman's geography. I felt rather sorry for him that he should be so ignorant.

One day, a short time after I reached home, I happened to be looking over my route on the map, and lo! there was Albany standing on the Hudson River, a hundred miles from the Connecticut. Then I did not feel half so sorry for the gentleman's ignorance as I did for my own. I never told anybody that story until I wrote it down on these pages the other day, but I have thought of it a thousand times, and always with a blush for my boldness. Nor was it the only time that I was perfectly sure of things that were not really so. It is hard for a boy to learn that he may be mistaken; but, unless he is a dunce, he learns it after a while.

The sooner he finds it out the better for him.

W. G.

DIVINE GUIDANCE.

In the life of Mary Pryor, well known among the Quakers a hundred years ago, the following incident occurred on the occasion of her visit to the Quakers in America.

She visited several of the best ships of the period, but did not feel easy to take her pa.s.sage in any of them. At length, on sitting down in an inferior vessel, called the _Fame_, she said she felt "so comfortable" that she must go in that ship. Her friends endeavoured to dissuade her, one of them saying he would not trust his dog in it. But having sought the Lord's direction, she saw no light on any change of plan, and she set sail in the _Fame_. She was now sixty years of age.

The voyage occupied three months, and was miserable in the extreme. The old vessel sprang a leak, and for weeks crew and pa.s.sengers had to work at the pumps to keep her afloat. At length, when all prospect of rescue seemed hopeless, and the men were on the point of giving up in despair, Mrs. Pryor, who had maintained her calmness and encouraged the sailors all along, came out of her cabin one morning, saying she had good news, for she had seen in a dream a vessel coming to their help that very day.

She had forgotten the name of the ship, but if the female pa.s.sengers would mention their maiden names, it would be recalled to her memory.

One of them said her name had been "Archibald." "That," said Mrs. Pryor, "is the name of the ship that will save us." The men were cheered, and turned with new energy to the pumps; and that evening, just before the vessel foundered, they were rescued by a small Halifax schooner, named the _Archibald_.

The crew and pa.s.sengers attributed their deliverance, under G.o.d, to the influence of Mrs. Pryor; and here was the explanation of the guidance she believed herself to have received to sail in the _Fame_, contrary to the wishes of her friends.

"The steps of a good man are ordered by the Lord."--_Lantern._

IF Christ be not a refiner's fire _in_ you, He will be a consuming fire _to_ you.

G.o.d can give a pardon to the greatest sin, but He cannot give a patronage to the least sin.