The only light comes from the grey dome overhead. There is no glass over the aperture, which is twenty-eight feet in diameter. It stands open to the sky. It is very solemnising to stand in that old dim circular building. Before these niches multitudes used to bow down, worshipping the gods many of Roman idolatry. Here the smoke of sacrifice ascended, here clouds of incense rose, here cymbals clashed, and here all the rites of idol worship were practised. The smoke on those old grimy walls carried you back to the time of heathen sacrifices. The shadowy forms painted all round, made you think of the old gods, dim and shadowy as their own pictures. The very gloom that pervaded the building, made you feel as if something of the old times of darkness still lingered about the place. It was the very stronghold of the idolatry of the Roman world. And yet in the very stronghold of its power, Christianity triumphed over it. The house of the idols was shut up in the year of our Lord 399, and when it was again opened in 608, it was as a Christian Church, where praise and prayer rose to the only living and true God, and His Son Jesus Christ.

On a somewhat chilly day in February last, we walked round and round this old heathen temple. We looked at the vacant niches, from which the statues of the old gods and goddesses had been taken down. We saw the altars which the Roman Catholic Church has put in their place. Again and again we surveyed the old grimy walls. But most of all, we could not help looking on that open dome, with its view of the blue sky, and white fleecy clouds sailing in it. The weather felt chilly, and as we stood gazing up, a pile or two of snow came floating downwards and alighted on the marble, white as itself, that marked the grave of the illustrious dead.

That open dome seemed to be a great eye, the eye of God, looking down into our hearts. And it was looking down into our hearts, to see if all idols there were thrown down. And not content with that, it seemed to be searching our hearts to see further if only God was exalted there. It is not enough

to cast down old idols, if we only erect new ones in their place. What a happy thought will it be, if all idols are cast down in our hearts. Some make an idol of dress; some of money; some of respectability. Little children, keep yourselves from idols. But do not be content to have the idols cast down. See that Christ takes their place. Let Christ be exalted on the throne of your hearts. So will you become the sons and daughters of God Almighty, and so will you become TEMPLES OF THE LIVING GOD.

A. G. F.

LESSONS FROM AN OLD SCHOOL-BOOK. THE TEACHER.

TELL me a story, grandpapa,' said the little boy who sat on the old man's

knee.

'Would you like a story about what happened a long time ago? Robbie.'

O yes; a story about when you were a little boy, grandpapa.'

'Here is a far older story than that. Three thousand years ago a boy was born in a palace. This babe was a prince, for his father was king of a great nation, and though the king had other sons, and this child was the son of his old age, he was heir to the throne. He was the prince who was to be king when his father died. This made the child greatly honoured, and yet the child had a far greater honour than this, the Lord loved him. The Lord loved him, and made him His own child before he was old enough to know anything about God.

'God had told his father before he was born that this prince would be a great king, and that his reign would be peaceful and happy. This made his father very anxious to teach his son to love and serve the God who had so loved him.

'When he was a very little boy, his father and mother taught him to value wisdom more than gold, and to seek it with his whole heart. They often told him of Noah and Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, and the beautiful story of Joseph,

how God was with him, and delivered him out of all his afflictions. They told him, too, of Moses' choice, that though he had been brought up in the palace, and was learned in all the wisdom of the Egyptians, he refused to be called the son of Pharaoh's daughter; choosing rather to suffer affliction with the people of God, than to enjoy the pleasures of sin for a season; esteeming the reproach of Christ greater riches than all the treasures in Egypt.

Thus the young prince grew up, loving Christ the Messiah, of whom his parents often spoke, and who was set before him in the sacrifices which were then offered. Every year the passover was observed, and when he asked his father what it meant, he was taught to think of the promised Saviour. He knew that in Him were hid all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge, and that He is made of God unto us wisdom, and he trusted in Him.

'When his good old father died, the young king was very sad. He did not know how he would be able to govern the kingdom without his wise counsel. Though he had been carefully taught, and had a great deal of knowledge, he felt that he was only like a little child who had everything to learn, and needed some one to teach him. And he knew the great teacher, and how to come to Him.

" He went to the brazen altar and offered a thousand burnt-offerings upon it, thus shewing all the people that only the Lamb of God can take away sin.

'God accepted these sacrifices, and the same night appeared to the young king in a dream, and said unto him, "Ask what I shall give thee." At once the king asked a wise and understanding heart, for he felt that wisdom was the thing he needed more than anything else. God was pleased with the choice he had made, and He gave him wisdom, and besides He gave him riches and honour. So great was his wisdom that people came from many distant lands to see and hear this great king.'

'That was Solomon, grandpapa. was the wisest man.'

He

Yes, it was Solomon. His wisdom was

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very great. The Arabians have preserved some curious legends about the queen of Sheba's visit to Solomon. One of these is that Balkas-the name they give this queen

placed a bouquet of real, and a bouquet of artificial flowers before the king, and asked him which were the real ones. The artificial flowers were so skilfully made that no one, by looking at them, could distinguish them from real ones, and Balkas put this question in order to try the king's wisdom. Solomon at once ordered the windows to be opened, and watched on which of the bouquets the bees flying in at the window alighted, and thus he was able to answer the queen's question to the astonishment of all present.

'Many of Solomon's wise sayings have come down to us in the books which he wrote. In Proverbs he shews us One who is called Wisdom. Who is this?'

Is it Solomon himself? grandpapa.'
'It is one greater than Solomon.'
'It must be Jesus then.'

'None but the Son of God could say, "I will pour out My Spirit unto you; I will make known My words unto you." "I was set up from everlasting, from the beginning, or ever the earth was. Whoso findeth Me findeth life." "Behold a greater than Solomon is here."

It is the Lord Jesus who so lovingly invites, beseeches, and warns the young in the book of Proverbs. He who said to His disciples, "Suffer the little children to come unto Me, and forbid them not, for of such is the kingdom of God," had a thousand years before said by Solomon (Pro. viii. 17), "I love them that love Me; and those that seek Me early shall find Me."

'Christ is the Wisdom of God. There is no true wisdom apart from Him. Long before Solomon lived, the question had been put, Where shall wisdom be found? and where is the place of understanding? and the answer had been given, Behold, the fear of the Lord, that is wisdom; and to depart from evil is understanding.' (Job xxviii. 12-28.)

So completely has this once highly favoured city passed away, that till quite recently travellers were not agreed as to which of the ruins by the shores of the Lake of Galilee marked its site. The extensive ruins piled up in utter confusion at a place called by the Arabs, "Tell Hum,' on the northern shore of the Lake, are now generally believed to be those of Capernaum.

The stones of one edifice, supposed to have been a synagogue, are of a beautiful marble, cut from the mountains on the northwest, where it is very abundant. This may be the ruins of the very synagogue in which Jesus SO often preached, and where He uttered those precious words-'I am the bread of life: he that cometh to me shall never hunger;

and he that believeth on me shall never thirst.'

And do not these stones cry out to us in words of solemn warning: Thou who art exalted to heaven shalt be brought down to hell; for if the mighty works, which have been done in thee, had been done in Sodom, it would have remained unto this day.' These ruins are a memorial of the faithfulness of God to His threatenings, as well as to His promises. In the words of Joshua, they proclaim: As all good things are come upon you, which the Lord your God promised you; so shall the Lord bring upon you all evil things, until he have destroyed you from off this good land, which the Lord your God hath given you, when ye have transgressed the covenant of the Lord your God.'

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Chained Bible in the Convent, and been startled by the falseness and profanities that filled the lives around him,—a quiet people, among the vines of France, had dared to think purer, bolder thoughts, than were taught by the church and the priests.

These were the Albigenses. They were so called from Albigeois, a district in Languedoc. You will not find the name in any modern geography; but if you care to look among the French departments for Tarn, and find its capital, Albi, you are in the heart of their land.

Early in the thirteenth century, this peaceful people, busy among their chestnuts and their vines, protected by their good Count Raymond of Toulouse, here worshipped God without fear.

On a broad and pleasant plain stands Toulouse. The river Garonne flows through the plain; and where the river passes the town, it is spanned by a beautiful bridge, very long and very high. And in the town the old Cathedral holds the tombs of the old counts, the notable Counts of Toulouse in those far off storied days.

For the Counts of Toulouse were strong. They were kings in their own domain. They would not own the sovereignty of the great kings of France. They too were an old dynasty of a quite chivalrous fame. Counts Raymond Fifth, and Raymond Seventh, were Troubadours. The Troubadours were the courtly poets, who sang, in these early days of knighthood, songs of love and war in sunny Languedoc. And the songs of the Counts of Toulouse that were sung to the harp long ago, have come down with the songs of other singers, or at least their memory has come.

Raymond Sixth, between the two Troubadours-no singer, but a strong knightcomes down with a different memory, as protector of the Albigenses.

The poor faithful people had worshipped undisturbed, with their Count's strong castle in their midst, and their own sunny sky above them. They felt how God is near, and can touch the tired heart without priest or saint between, and they were glad in their faith.

One little spot among the vineyards where the pope was not held supreme, Pope Innocent Third would not suffer it long, and there came a day of sorrow. Pope Innocent sent his legate, Peter of Castelnau, to convert all the heretics in the Count Raymond's lands. Peter of Castelnau was slain, and the pope took his revenge.

He

The Third Crusade was over. All the soldiers who were not busy at home, had gone there under their leaders to rescue the Holy Land, as you know, from the Saracens. Among those who came back Iwas the Count Simon de Montfort. had headed a troop of French knights, but had won no glory in the wars. He was known for the fierceness of his character; he had never learnt what mercy means. He was not likely to practise it now, hardened by a cruel life of nearly sixty years. This was the man whom the pope chose to send into Languedoc.

It was in the year 1209, A Crusade against the Albigenses,' so it was called by the pope, who, fain with a sacred_name, would cover his wicked purpose. It was in reality a war against Count Raymond Sixth, a war so wasteful and so cruel as is not often told in history. Count Raymond had sheltered the heretics; he was the pope's foe. The abbot Arnold of Citeana went with the pope's army. They took the town of Beziers, the capital of Raymond's nephew. That was a dreadful hour. The inhabitants were slain without distinction. The catholics fell with the heretics, lest any heretic should escape.

Kill them all,' said the impious abbot; 'God will know His own.'

The power of Count Raymond Sixth could no longer shield his subjects. The fertile lands were conquered, and given to Simon De Montfort. But De Montfort never quietly enjoyed the lands of Count Raymond. On the 25th of June, 1218, he was killed at the siege of Toulouse, by a stone which was thrown from its walls. His son struggled for the lands, and after a dreadful war, Count Raymond purchased peace by large sums of money to the