corn-land, which the peasants were ploughing with yokes of well-shaped but very small oxen, and with the same light primitive plough which is used all over Egypt and Syria. Here, however, the camel is never used for this purpose, whom one so often sees in Egypt and nearer the frontier, fastened singly to the plough by his tail. But, unlike the fellahs of Egypt, all the labourers are armed with a gun and a knife. In about half an hour more, descending by an easy slope into a long and narrow valley, we passed a very deep well at the foot of the bank on our left, where the plunging of a stone dropped in, sounded as if there was a great depth of water, standing although at perhaps more than a hundred feet from the mouth. The depth of the rope-marks worn in the rock all round the opening, gives token of its antiquity. But no ropes or means of drawing water are left. The country people call this place Sissames. At about a quarter of an hour further, there is another well, which seems as if it were sunk to the same level, likewise through natural rock. Both of these had evidently been much used in former times; and on this account, and also from their being so near to each other, look as if they had belonged to some large town; of which, however, we could see no remains either on the hill-side or in the valley. At an hour and a half's distance beyond, this gorge opens on the plain of Duaime, into which we entered from under the branches of a venerable sycamore, whose gnarled trunk and amply-spreading foliage cast a regular unbroken shadow of many yards upon the turf around. The view of the plain which lay before us is broken into glades by woodland thicket, and where it opens more widely beyond is tufted with ancient timber, forming an open grove of greenwood, very much resembling the park scenery of North Devon or the New Forest; more resembling the former in the occasional mixture of rock, but only wanting its rushing water.

From hence, coming out upon small fields terraced in gradation on the slopes, we found the plough again at work among boles of olives and fig trees, or upon the sunny bed of the valley below. This is portioned out, not by fences, but boundary-stones, among the proprietors; a people industrious,

peaceful, and hospitable, and armed only to protect themselves and their goods against wandering robbers, from whose incursions the weak and bad government into whose hands they are surrendered gives them no security. This was the land of "the giants, sons of Anak,” (Num. xiii. 33,) and of the "dwellers among the tents of strife," the land first seen by the messengers whom Moses sent, of each tribe of the children of Israel one, from the wilderness of Paran.Ibid.

THE PLAIN OF ESHKOL: HEBRON: A STORM.

AFTER an ascent of nearly two hours, we came to the top of the mountain of Douras, the first of the Hebron range. Here is the small village of Douras, and a handsome wely, the tomb of a santon. From hence is a glorious view, back, to the westward, of the plains of Philistia, and forward, to the east, of those of Canaan, and of the mountains of Edom and Moab. Even to this day the plain of Eshkol, which is seen winding through the gorges to the northward, is full of vineyards; and its vines are still famous through the land of Judah for grapes of exquisite flavour and enormous size, clustering so thickly on the bunch as to justify the astonishment with which they were viewed by the strangers of Israel. In three hours and a half more we reached the famous city of Hebron.

We had thus far made our journey, according to our calculation, of a little more than two hundred and seventy-five miles in one hundred and eight hours of travel, and, including our halts, in fourteen days.

We were now within the land appointed of old as the Land of Promise; that part of it from whence the children of Israel, having reached it under the command of their first great chief, were, for their disobedience, turned back once more upon the Desert of the Wandering, till all of that generation but Joshua and Caleb should have perished.

The sun, as we drew near to Hebron, was sinking behind us in great glory over the hills of the Philistines. The level light now kindled in succession that variety of glowing hues which nowhere shows so deeply bright as against a distance

of grey-stone hills. But a straight and lurid line of dark purple cloud hung heavily across their tops. And, as we wound along the road which skirted their sides, that fresh steamy smell arose from the terraced vine-grounds below which gives warning of rain before any instinct but that of vegetable life has note of its approach.

But it was not till near midnight that the storm began. The weather had been calm and fine till now, without interruption, throughout our whole journey. And now we could not have wished against the storm which roared among the rocks of Hebron. It was grand beyond description. The dazzling sheets of lightning that gleamed in quick succession made the whole prospect round as bright as in the day, showing forth the stern and venerable features of those famous solitudes, and of that ancient city which lay before us, apparently so little changed from when it was the abode of David and his host, "those mighty men of war.' And the thunder, coming loud and near upon every flash, rolled through the land where of old the voice of the Almighty was so often heard articulate.-Ibid.

A REMARKABLE DREAM.

ORDINARILY dreams will be found to be made up of the fancifully-combined occurrences of life, often in a fragmentary state, called up from the depths of memory, and thrown together by no laws suggested by our waking hours. Of all modern inventions, the kaleidoscope seems to furnish a sort of analogy, not indeed for argument, but which may serve tolerably well for description. Still, who can deny but that sometimes dreams, as the other facts of human life, may be directed to important purposes by a merciful Providence, that they may be the instrument, not of revealing truth to the mind, but of leading the mind to reflect on truth? And thus, even that great event, conversion, may be brought about by the instrumentality of a dream. And if truly brought about, what then? As Mr. Wesley said on the subject of faith, placed in a similar category, "It is neither better nor worse than if it came in another way."

We insert the

tion it possesses. Advocate," the

following dream because of the authenticaWe copy it from the "New-York Christian Methodist Episcopal Church paper. The writer gives his own name and address; and unless the respected Editors had had some knowledge of him, they would not have inserted such a communication. He says that it was related to him by the person himself, now a Methodist, and a Steward in the church.

"When I was a young man, I embraced 'liberal sentiments,' so called. The doctrine of future and eternal punishments made no part of my creed. I read my Bible; and, having some skill in the use of words, generally succeeded in silencing those who knew less than myself. This gave me confidence in my new opinions, and brought a kind of peace to my heart.

"At this time I had formed an intimate acquaintance with a young man of the same sentiments. A perfect sympathy existed between us. We married about the same time, purchased adjoining lots, built ourselves houses, and expected to live together as neighbours for years. He and his wife moved into their new house six weeks earlier than we did. The walls were damp, they caught cold, and were both attacked at the same time by bilious fever. The Ministers of the place visited them. The husband became penitent, and renounced his infidel creed, while the wife refused to converse with them. They both died. The fact that my friend had, in his latter hours, renounced his former creed, troubled me for some time; but after a while the impression wore off, and I recovered my former composure. One night, after retiring to rest in health and good spirits, I had a singular dream. I thought that I was standing on the sea-shore. The stars were shining brightly in the blue vault of heaven, and the mild beams of the moon dancing upon the surface of the ocean, which stretched out before me in all its grandeur and beauty. I gazed with delight on the scene; but, slightly turning my head, there appeared in the dim distance the form of a man. I thought that it came nearer; and when I could discern its features, they were those of my friend who had died. I said to myself, with deep emotion, 'Now for the grand secret!'

And, 'Is there an endless hell?' seemed to fall from my lips. There was no reply, only a calm and penetrating glance. 'Are you happy?' I said. Still there was no reply; but he smiled, and passed along, as if borne by the breeze over the expanse of the water, till he disappeared from my view. I exclaimed, 'My doctrine is true, or my friend would have told me.' It seemed as if I were partly disposed to exult, and partly to fear, when I turned my head in the same direction as before, and I beheld another figure approaching. This was his wife. She had a large chain round her waist, rattling as she moved. Her hair was dishevelled, her eyes glaring, and her countenance wore the unmistakeable impress of perfect despair. As she came floating along over the ocean, a horrible fiend-like form arose from its depths, seized hold of the chain, and furiously dragged her down. Never had I heard anything like the groans and shrieks with which she disappeared. I awoke with the terrible fright. I was standing. All was darkness. I said, 'Where am I? I went to bed last night. Where am I now? How came I here? Have I died in my sleep, and awoke in hell?' I stretched out my arms right and left, but all was void. The thought again flashed across my mind, 'It is all over. I am lost, lost for ever.' O the agony I felt in that one moment! All my sins passed in review before me, and the very blackness of despair rested on my spirit. 'I am lost; I am ruined for ever,' I said. But moving forward a little, I touched the bed, from which I had leaped unconsciously in the fright of my dream. O! how thankful I was then! No more sleep had I that night. The sweat started from every pore; my heart beat as though it would burst through my chest; my limbs trembled so that I could not stand, and I was glad to lie down again on my bed. How glad I was when the morning came! I could not forget my sins. I read my Bible; I began to pray; and, blessed be God, I soon was led from darkness to light. I saw his wisdom and goodness in leading me to consider my ways, even though it was by a dream. I am not at all superstitious. I do not suppose there was anything supernatural in my dream. But I do believe God can lead a soul to salvation by a single word, by a reproving