chapter; a railway already unites it to Gefle (pronounced Gaveler) which is a seaport town in the Gulf of Bothnia, from whence extensive shipments of timber are made.

Having thus spent a day's quiet amidst these varied scenes, in the evening we returned to Stockholm, and arrived at about ten o'clock, again to be greeted with another of those gorgeous sunsets which seems to mark each closing day, if day can be said to close when there is no darkness to distinguish night. These remarkable sunsets, and yet more remarkable daylight nights, formed some of the most peculiar features of these "Rambles in Sweden," which is the only apology we have to offer for so frequently noticing them.

On the morrow, which was the first day of July, business and pleasure had to be combined, as in the evening we were to turn our backs upon Stockholm, and to proceed northward ready for more work. The first thing to do was to engage berths on board the steamer for Sundswall, and after that to secure places, a week in advance, on board a steamer for the passage through the lakes and canals from Stockholm to Gothenburg; when leaving Sundswall, we should call here en route for home. This, being the favourite route, is so much sought after, that it becomes necessary to make all arrangements some time before hand, as the sequel will show. Having finished business we visited some picture and sculpture galleries, and then called on various friends to bid them adieu; were fortunate enough to find Mr. Palmquist at home, and held a very interesting conversation with him on the Sunday School work. It was encouraging to hear from him that, in his opinion, the great meeting held on the previous Sunday had resulted in much good being done; that he had met many people who were talking about it, and that it would long be remembered. In bidding us adieu he begged our acceptance of a Biblical Dictionary in the Swedish language, as a souvenir of our visit, and although written in an unknown tongue it was gratefully accepted, and will often bring to remembrance the incidents of these delightful "Rambles." *

We now returned to the hotel to dinner and to make the necessary arrangements for leaving Stockholm at six p.m. by the steamer, but before doing so we would add one word about hotel life in Sweden. Hotel Rydberg is a very large one, and the best in Stockholm, is much frequented, and appeared at this time to be full of visitors; but these hotels are not used only by those who stay in the house, they seem to be a rendezvous for friends to meet and discuss business, and are largely used by people outside for meals only. The "salle," as the large dining hall is called, is of very large dimensions, richly ornamented and decorated, having Corinthian columns at either end and noble chandeliers suspended from a beautifully painted ceiling; this hall is used as a concert-room in the winter.

* While this chapter was being written Mr. Palmquist was in London, and it afforded us great pleasure to have the opportunity to reciprocate the kindly offices in our own country which were so cheerfully offered in his.

Entering by a vestibule, a porter is in attendance to take gentlemen's hats, ladies' shawls, &c., and with clothes-brush in hand removes all superfluous dust; while the use of a looking-glass, with comb and brush, enables visitors to make a suitable entry into the hall beyond. This is filled with square tables, capable of holding from four to eight persons, placed at suitable distances to allow of free ingress and egress. Meals are all served à la carte in Sweden, and there is no such thing as table d'hôte, consequently there is a carte or bill of fare in book boards, forming a kind of volume, placed on each table, containing a list of everything that may be had, with the price of each; these cartes are printed for each day and also for each meal, and are afterwards destroyed, as we saw quite a pile of them awaiting destruction. From this pile we abstracted two or three for curiosity's sake, and found them to contain seventy-three different items; they are all printed in Swedish, but the headings-such as soup, fish, beef, veal, mutton, poultry, game, vegetables, dessert, &c.-are printed in Swedish, French, and English, from which it would appear that they expect the larger number of visitors to comprise these three nationalities. With such a variety, how is it possible to make a meal? what is to be selected? And seeing that all the names are in Swedish, which it is impossible to understand, everything must be taken on faith; and if it does not answer, well, then the only way is to avoid it on the morrow and try something else, so that by the time you are about to leave you just begin to understand "what to eat, drink, and to avoid." However, we may state that the dishes are really good, and they certainly understand in Sweden how to make up a good dinner.

But it is time to withdraw from these grovelling things, bid adieu to Stockholm, and go on our way rejoicing.

Bethany.

HE neighbourhood of Brighton is rather favourable, as I have often shown, for illustrating many of the scenes of the Holy Land; it is not altogether unfavourable for illustrating the position of Bethany. It was in the neighbourhood of Jerusalem, about fifteen furlongs off; but that distance must be a little increased or you will not get to Bethany. Substantially, however, that is about the distance. There are so many spots of interest in the Holy Land, so many villages, it would be quite a task of difficulty to say which is the most interesting; and yet there can be few more interesting than this Bethany, a beautiful village, locked up among the quiet hills, lying on the slope of the Mount of Olives. There are three ways to reach it, and each is so full of interest to us. One winds up the slight depression of the Mount of Olives, touches the village, which climbs up to the summit, and then winds down to the declivity. The second branches off above Gethsemane, strikes the south side of the village, and joins the former above Bethany; and the third strikes to the right below Gethsemane, passes round the shoulder of the hill, and is the main road to Jericho. Take the first. Here is the road along which David fled from Absalom. Surely such instances are not uninteresting; but we do not follow David on his way, we turn down from the mountain, the terraced fields, and fig orchards, and fall into a more frequented path; so we reach the little lonely mountain hamlet, and pass the low rocky ridge which screens Bethany from Mount Olivet. Wonderful are the transactions which have hung an undying interest round this mountain village home!

It is said,

It was, it would seem, often the Saviour's earthly home. "He went from the city into Bethany, and He lodged there." An elevated site, shaded by the Mount of Olives, thickly surrounded by plantations of the fig (Bethphage, the House of Figs, is here), and this is Bethany, the House or Place of Dates-probably the wild honey on which John fed, for so the date was called.

Bethany, the House or Place of Dates, or of the palm. It may be interesting to the reader to turn to the remarks of Hepworth Dixon, in which he very rudely seeks to set aside that etymology altogether, and fortifies his own rejection by some searching analysis from the lamented Emanuel Deutsch. Impressed by the barrenness of the place when visiting it, he thought, Where are all the palms? So Dixon and Deutsch transform Bethany into Bethanyah, or the House of Dates into the House of Misery. Perhaps the world will not see much reason to alter its old idea of the meaning of the name. Deutsch was a large scholar, but a rash and bold speculator. The wretchedness of many a village in the Holy Land is no proof of any ancient desolation; palms must have been abundant on a spot where they were taken and strewn in the way of the Saviour; and stern as its aspect may be now, no doubt it was bright, and verdant, and lovely then. And here, embosomed amidst the olive, almond, and pomegranate trees, stood the old seclusion of the sisters and their brother; here the quiet spirit of our Redeemer rested amidst cheerful love. Honoured and adored here, perhaps, He had the few gracious in

tervals which broke the monotony of sorrow. We love to realise Him there; there He was a well-known friend; no want, methinks, of fragrant waters for the feet or for the face.

Here, probably, were some of those interludes of joy. It was not all mournful-not all a life of sorrows and of thorns. Had He not the pleasures of holy sympathy? Had He not the rich satisfaction of His own divine sensibilities ? The widow in the Treasury gave Him joy, and the family at Bethany gave Him joy. And that memorable scene at the house of Simon the Leper; and the feast provided by Martha, who served, and who received the kind word of our Lord, not as it has been so often used. Martha, Martha, why will you provide so many things? and Mary has chosen the good part; food perishes, but holy words never die. What anxious eyes were straining beyond those olive-hills to see Him coming to the swift call which had been sent-"Lord, he whom thou lovest is sick." What worlds it speaks, what nights, what days. what sympathy, what communion! Oh, when we cry in prayer never shall we transcend it: "He whom thou lovest is sick." At last he comes ! Too late too late! No; let that teach us that He never comes too late if He come at all; and all was doubt and mistrust. What reproof: "Lord, if thou hadst been here, my brother had not died." Loved not this man? What a scene at the grave !-the intense interest of the affectionate family, then the mighty moment at the mouth of the grave. "Lazarus ! come forth!" And he came forth, a living form,

"The loved, the lost, the woll

Won from the grave, corruption and the worm;

And "Is not this the Son

Of God?" they whispered;

While the sisters poured

Their gratitude to Him, for they had known the Lord."

And the village has ever since been called, Lazari.-Rev. Paxton Hood..

Wolf-shooting in Russia.

SOME branches cracked and on the opposite bank stood a beautiful wolf of the Asiatic species; smallish, and black over his back to his muzzle, and under the belly, with a magnificent tail-a brush-black and grey mixed. He foamed at the mouth, and showed his large teeth. He paced backwards and forwards, as if caged, looking across the water, considering whether it were best to swim over. Then he stood still, pricking his black ears, and turning his head in the direction of the noise in the forest. I aimed and fired. The effect was instantaneous. He rose on his hind legs, threw up his fore paws and his head in the air, and lolling out his red tongue, fell down dead on his side. I marked the spot and reloaded. In less than two minutes there was a great scramble through the jungle behind me a panting and an indefinite sound, as of a confusion of growls, but I could discern nothing; but before me, on the opposite bank again, appeared five wolves, of various kinds and sizes, but all full grown. These were all in a state of excitement, lolling out their tongues, foaming at the mouths, and exhibiting formidable tusks. Their eyes glared or shone with a feverish kind of light (the glitter of their eyes is visible at some distance on a dark night). They were all pricking up their ears, and hesitating at this point, they stood or paced about, taking in breath. Spotting a large light-brown member of the community, I aimed at his right shoulder and fired; the beast dropped stone dead.—Cassell's “ Illustrated Travels.”

rest of thim quiet if they try to vex Jack; he can ride the ass beside her whin she goes to market at Brusna on Thursdays."

So it was decided that little Johnnie should get a lesson in basketmaking from the "cliever" next day. The boy had lain awake listening to the voices in the kitchen, and now when his mother came into his room he started up in bed, "Oh, mother, will father let me go?"

"Yes, Johnnie darlin', and I think it was God put the clever thought into Phil's head for you, sure you ought to thank Him day and night for sich a brother;" and Johnnie lay down again and slept peacefully.

Farmer Bryan was an upright, honest Protestant, and his wife a Godfearing, hard-working woman; but though their kitchen looked bright and comfortable, thanks to the good woman's care, and the chimney was seldom without a flitch of bacon hanging up to "smoke" in it, still they were comparatively poor. Bryan had inherited a worn-out tillage farm, every field of which required hard work and present outlay to become profitable, and for which he paid a high rent, as land was scarce in the county P.

Within the last few years some of Farmer Bryan's best cattle had been carried off by the mysterious disease known by the name of "black-leg," for which no remedy has ever been discovered, and which invariably appears to select the healthiest and finest animals among the herd for its victims. Two of Mr. Bryan's daughters were at service in a distant town; his eldest boy, Phil, remained at home to help his father. Hard, however, as Farmer Bryan and his "right hand," Phil, might work, it was a difficult task to meet the yearly rent, especially after a hard season, and sparing a sum of ready money to gratify poor little Johnnie's ambition to enter the Charterhouse was at present quite out of the question, and the boy pined and faded, partly from a morbid timidity which made him shrink from meeting strangers out of doors, and partly from a consciousness that instead of being a helper to those he loved, he only increased their pecuniary difficulties.

Phil and his mother were very thankful Johnnie had at last spoken out, and felt pleased at his determination to brave what they knew must prove a trial to him, the publicity from which he had hitherto been shielded by their indulgence.

When Rosey next morning heard of the projected visit to old Andy's cottage, she begged so hard to accompany her brother that her mother gave her leave, merely saying, "If she bothers the ould man send her home, Johnnie.

Walking slowly to keep pace with poor Jack's feeble hobble, Rosy beguiled the distance with her merry chatter. Old Andy was in his garden, and seeing him approach the cabin carrying a large armful of "An' who's to pay me for teaching ye, I'd like to know, Master Jacky? willow rods, the children waited for him, and Jack then told his errand. and where are ye goin' to find the rods?" quoth Andy, the kindly expres. sion of his face belying his gruff words.

"Oh, mother says she'll make it up to you in eggs, sir, and we have the rods at the foot of the garden at home, if you'll just let me watch. you to-day, Rosey will help me down with a bundle to-morrow."

"All right," said the old man, leading the children to his little field, in shape of a basket. Andy began working other rods between these in a which they saw a number of strong willows stuck into the ground in the degrees a strong stout chair or pannier-fitted for carrying potatoes, turf,