Jesus therefore saw her weeping, and the Jews also weeping which came with her, He groaned in the spirit and was troubled, and said, Where have ye laid him? They said unto Him, Lord, come and see. Jesus wept."

Tears of human sympathy from those eyes, falling down that beard, were more precious than the perfumed oil which ran down Aaron's beard. Jesus cried with a loud voice, "Lazarus, come forth!" "And he that was dead came forth, bound hand and foot with grave clothes: and his face was bound about with a napkin. Jesus saith unto them, Loose him, and let him go."

Again, we read (Matt. xxvi. 6-13; Mark xiv. 3-9; John xii. 1-8) that a friend of Lazarus, named Simon, who had been a leper, made a supper for our Lord and His disciples. Lazarus was one of the guests, and busy Martha helped to serve them. Mary was there; but she had no heart for feasting. She had heard Jesus say, "Ye know that after two days is the feast of the passover, and the Son of Man is betrayed to be crucified." Her tender and believing heart felt these words, as though they were the bleating of the Paschal Lamb shut up for the sacrifice. She asked herself what she could do for Him? How show forth the faith that was within her, that this Lamb of God was bearing away the sin of the world? She remembered that she had in an alabaster box a pound weight of precious ointment of spikenard, worth about £9. She would not wait till He was dead; others might then bring spices and drugs; she would use the sweet perfume upon Him now. So she brought it, broke the seal, and began to pour the precious ointment upon His head as He sat at meat. She had heard (Luke vii. 36, 48) of a sinner who had washed His feet with her tears, and wiped them with the hairs of her head. What a sinner had done, a saint might do; so she anointed the feet of Jesus also, and wiped them with her hair ; "and the house was filled with the odour of the ointment."

Everybody smelled the sweet perfume.

The twelve disciples began to

talk about it one to another, and the prevailing thought of their hearts found utterance in the words of Judas Iscariot, 66 'Why was not this ointment sold for three hundred pence, and given to the poor? It is hard to bear the upbraidings of wicked men, much harder to bear the rebukes of good men. Here are twelve of the supposed best men in Israel, specially chosen by the Lord, all with one consent censuring one gentle maiden, who has not a word to say for herself. You may almost see her crouching down behind the Lord Jesus,, and hiding her face behind the veil of her long hair, which has been let down to wipe His feet. But Jesus had compassion on Mary, and kindly took her part, saying, "Let her alone: against the day of My burying hath she kept this." "Why trouble ye the woman? for she hath wrought a good work upon Me. For ye have the poor always with you; but Me ye have not always. Verily, I say unto you, wheresoever this Gospel shall be

preached in the whole world, there shall also this, that this woman hath done, be told for a memorial of her.”

Dry your tears, dear Mary of Bethany; the Lord accords you such honour as does not belong to all the saints. While His servants preach the Gospel of faith in Him for the remission of sins that are past, Mary of Bethany is to be mentioned as an example of the gospel of good works.

Perhaps, dear reader, none of our Lord's commands are more slighted nowadays than this. How seldom have you heard mention of this young lady's name! yet it ought to be in the mouth of every preacher. For this month, at least, it is in the LOCAL PREACHERS' MAGAZINE.

T. C.

THE LOCAL PREACHERS' MAGAZINE.

Melton Mowbray, Dec. 15, 1880.

To the Benefit Members of the Local Preachers' Mutual Aid Associa tion:

Dear Brethren, Allow me to call your attention to a paper which appeared in the Dec. issue of our Magazine, entitled, "An Appeal," &c. Its appearance is opportune, and will, I hope, bear fruit in an enlarged sale during the next year.

Nothing can be more reasonable than an appeal for help to those for whose benefit the Magazine is published. In a special sense, dear brethren, it belongs to you. The work involved in producing it is done for you without fee or reward. Its pages are largely devoted to the advocacy of your claims, and the funds of what is really your exchequer are materially replenished by its means and influence.

The amount of mental and mechanical labour and even monetary sacrifice necessitated by its monthly issue is known but to few. All honour to the voluntary and self-denying labourers for others' good! I grieve to find that this "labour of love" is not generally appreciated by the class in question. A careful numerical analysis of the sales of the Magazine reveals this fact, namely, that a large proportion of the benefit members do not purchase and presumably do not read it. This cannot arise from inability to buy the Magazine; the cost is within the means of the poorest -taking the year round, less than one halfpenny per week. Again, let it not be pleaded that your failure to take it can have no appreciable influence on its circulation. Your humility, however seemingly creditable, is in this instance fraught with misconception. It involves a fallacy, and might result in mischief; for if the plea is admitted to be sound in your case, others have an equal right to adopt it; and were this done on a large scale the publication would inevitably collapse-a catastrophe by which you would be the first to suffer. Let me hope that by aiding in

the direction I have indicated, you will be among the first practically to deprecate this result.

Do all you can to popularize "your own Magazine." By adding to its sales, you will cheapen its relative cost, increase its value as an advertising medium, and in many other ways further the interests of the Wesleyan Methodist Local Preachers' Association.-I am, dear brethren, yours affectionately, J. TOWNE.

BROTHER JAMESON'S VISIT TO AMERICA.

On the 24th July, 1880, I left my home, bidding a long farewell to those I held most dear to me in this world, with the prospect of a tedious and somewhat dangerous journey before me; knowing that ere my return I should have to cross almost unknown territories, of which I shall speak farther on. Arriving at Victoria Docks, I found great confusion; some just in time to see the vessel starting without them, others waiting most anxiously for their luggage; in some instances this seemed to fail them altogether; in most cases intoxication was the cause of the trouble. Then came distressing partings from relatives and friends, in the midst of which we cleared the docks, and floated down the river in the large and splendid steamer "Greece," having on board a very pleasant company; thirty saloon passengers, and seventy steerage. There were also on board one hundred horses. Most of the passengers were young men from America, who had been visiting England and the Continent for improvement in their various professions. Amongst them were professional singers and musicians; so that we were favoured during the voyage with several concerts in the saloon. But in striking contrast to these, was the Rev. Mr. Machonochie, from St. Alban's, Holborn, of Ritualistic fame; and although we differed much in religious sentiments, I found myself highly appreciating his society, and I esteemed it greatly. On the Sunday, at the request of several of the passengers, I held a service in the evening, and spoke from St. Paul's shipwreck when on his voyage to Rome: "some on boards, &c., but all came safe to land." I felt much liberty in speaking; and when at the close I referred to the severe gale we had just passed through, I said that just as those who were going to Rome had all been saved, although some were only on broken pieces of the ship, so we should all be brought safe to land, if we had with us a Paul on board;-at which all gave a hearty clap, and shouted, "Hear! hear!"

Well, during the evening of the first day, as I watched the blue line of our native land fading away like a cloud on the horizon, as it vanished from my view, one volume of the world and its concerns seemed closed; and I had time for meditation before I opened another volume which was lying before me. I looked lingeringly at the spot where the last vestige

of land had been visible, and thought of what and whom that land still held for me. What vicissitudes might occur! what changes might take place before I returned, if ever! For who can tell, when he sets forth, whither he may be driven by the uncertain current of existence, or if it may be his lot ever to review the scenes he has visited?

Sea voyage is a vacancy, yet full of subjects for meditation. The wonders of the deep tend to abstract the mind from all worldly things. I delighted to look over the side of the vessel on a calm day, and mused for hours together, or chatted with a fellow passenger as we were almost becalmed on the tranquil bosom of the summer-sea. It was a joy to gaze upon the golden clouds, just appearing above the horizon; or to watch the undulating waves rolling their silver volumes as if only to die away on the happy shores I had left. There was a delicious sensation of mingled security and awe with which I looked down from my giddy height at the monsters of the deep. I saw the sharks and their gambols, also a whale, and shoals of porpoises lumbering about the bows; the grampus heaving his huge form above the surface, or the flying fish darting like a spectre through the blue waters, and landing by dozens on our decks. My imagination conjured up all that I have ever heard or read of the watery world beneath me. Sometimes a distant sail, gliding along the edge of the ocean, would be another theme for thought: this fragment of a world hastening to rejoin the mass of existence beyond;` how this monument of human invention has triumphed over winds and waves, and brought the ends of the world together, has established an interchange of blessings, pouring the luxuries of one nation into the lap of another.

But not to weary you with descriptions of a sea voyage, now of almost universal ken, I pass on to my arrival at New York. We landed on a Sunday morning; and leaving my luggage at the "customs," felt myself a lonely wanderer in this vast city, rich in the choicest productions of the world. Passing through an abundant display of fruits-peaches, melons, and grapes-I made my way to the address given me; but I found nothing but offices, and Mr. Wheeler was not there. I then inquired for a Wesleyan Chapel, but was told there was not one in the place. I soon found that I ought to have asked for a Methodist Episcopalian; for it was not long before I saw in large gold letters-"The oldest Methodist Episcopal Church in America." I was early; took a seat in the corner of the chapel, but was soon observed, which brought down the pastor, Dr. Weed. After inquiring who I was and where I came from, &c., my mission was not strange to him; and I soon found myself in his beautifully furnished study. I was urged to take the pulpit, which I did: and preached from Job xxix. 18, "I shall die in my nest," &c., I was much gratified with the beautiful appearance of all around. The pulpit is of statuary marble, the walls and ceiling beautifully decorated, and both chapel and school were carpeted. Fans also were placed in all the

pews, one being handed to me in the pulpit. After service we dined together; and during my stay in the city Dr. Weed showed me much kindly attention. As I descended from the pulpit, I saw on the right hand a marble slab in memory of the celebrated Bishop Asbury; on the opposite side a neat marble tablet bearing the following inscription :

"Philip Embury, the earliest American preacher of the Methodist Episcopal Church, here found his last resting place." "Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints." Born in Ireland, an emigrant to New York, Embury was the first to gather a class on that day, and to set in train measures which resulted in the founding of John Street Church, the cradle of American Methodism, and the introduction of a system which has helped to beautify the earth and thus increase the joys of heaven. I find by this time his body has been exhumed and now reposes at Cambridge, a charming spot near Ashgrove. I will write from Baltimore.

A BRIEF FAMILY TOUR IN DEVON AND CORNWALL.

(Continued from page 16.)

Friday, October 4th.-Having had three days of travelling, and as much exercise on foot as we could bear, we concluded not to travel to-day, but to look about Penzance. The situation of the town is at the northwestern corner of a beautiful bay at the base of the English Channel, where the Atlantic Ocean maintains a perpetual aggression upon granite and other rocks. It is sheltered by hills on all sides except to seawards ; and its climate is singularly mild, in comparison with all but a small number of other places in England. Many delicate people and persons subject to respiratory ailment resort to it, therefore, as a winter retreat, and some for permanent residence. Many a Methodist preacher has been stationed there and in its neighbourhood, for the same reason; and there can be no question that its salubrious climate has been the means of prolonging life, as well as alleviating suffering in a great number of cases. The lodging-houses are numerous, and there are many hotels, from the lowest to the highest grade; some of them intended exclusively for pleasure seekers and invalids.

Issuing from our hotel, we descended by the main street, first to the Post Office, and then to the harbour, and along its left-hand quay to the end. Thence we crossed to the right-hand quay, giving a poor fellow sixpence for taking us in his little boat. He looked pleased, and said he had earned only ten shillings during the past four weeks. We threaded our way to the shore, and walked along the sea wall, westerly. We observed a large bird upon the water, which we learnt was a cormorant Beyond it was a boat, with people aboard, at no great distance, being rowed towards the harbour. The bird soon dived, and did not show