The source of the Nile was an object of curious investigation to the ancients, as it still remains to travellers of modern days; for the difficulties attending every step in their progress have hitherto been found so great that the problem remains yet unsolved.

The most famous of the monuments of Egypt are the pyramids. The word seems to be derived from perami, which means "lofty," and is thought to be the same with

the Hebrew word charaboth, which (in Job iii. 14) obviously signifies "a sepulchre," though rendered in our version "desolate places." Living in Arabia, Job would be well acquainted with these remarkable erections, and their purport is exactly expressed in his words :

"For now should I have lain still and been quiet;

I should have slept: then had I been at rest

With kings and counsellors of the earth

Who built themselves pyramids."

Of these pyramids the first to challenge attention are the

famous three at Ghizeh, whose superior size and grandeur have almost monopolized the name, and long ranked themselves amid the wonders of the world. That these structures were designed to cover the graves of their founders is a point no longer in doubt, since sepulchral vaults have been discovered with the remains of the dead. But that this was their sole intention is not beyond a question. No traces, however, exist of their being ever intended (as was once

supposed) for temples, unless some ruins on the east sides of each should be the remains of such edifices.

The pyramids are of stone; and, at present, the sides present the appearance of rude slopes, by which the top may be reached with no great difficulty. Standing solitary in the desert, remote from the abodes of men, with neither trees nor other objects of comparison in view, their first appearance is so little imposing that the traveller experiences a sensation of disappointment. It is only after reflection and computation, aided by observing the human pigmies crawl

ing up and down their sides, that he attains with difficulty to some just conception of their enormous magnitude. The impression is deepened almost into awe, when it is remembered that they are, beyond question, the oldest works of man in existence. They have stood unchanged, while empires rose and fell by their side, pointing to those cloudless skies, immoveable and undecaying, for perhaps nearly four thousand years.

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44

Which is the Likeliest ?”

RANDPAPA," said my little grandson to me one day lately, "how long do you think I shall live? Shall I ever be as old as you ?”

"I cannot tell you," I replied. "No one knows but God. You may die whilst you are only a little boy, or you may live to be an old man. People die, you know, at all ages. But you may live-and I hope you will -to be as old as I am, and a great deal older."

"Do you think, grandpapa," he asked, "that I might live a hundred years longer ?"

"A hundred years!" I said. "That is a very long time. How old would you be if you were to live till then?"

"I am six now, grandpapa," he said; "that would make a hundred and six."

"I have heard of people," I replied, "who lived to be as old as that; but I do not think that either you or I shall live so long."

"But we shall be living somewhere, grandpapa ?" he asked. "Shan't we?"

"Yes, George," I answered. "You know it is only the body that dies. Our spirits will still live. We shall be either with the Lord Jesus Christ in heaven, or else we shall be with fallen angels and bad people in that place where there is no hope."

"I know all that, grandpapa," he said, thoughtfully and

slowly; "but which is the likeliest ?" And he repeated the question, "Which is the likeliest ?"

It was a child's question; but who does not know that children, in their imperfect way, often ponder questions of the most solemn moment? Of all questions we could ask, there is none which concerns every one of us more deeply than that; for it involves our everlasting destiny.

Has it ever struck you to ask, reader, "Where shall I be a hundred years hence ?" The next hundred years will roll away, bearing with them changes in the fortunes of the world of which no man has the faintest idea; but this is certain that you will not be here to witness them. Long before then you will be smitten with your last sickness, or else, worn out with age, the powers of life will die out, and that frame, which is now so vigorous, will be borne to the house appointed for all living." It may be that some one will survive who knew you; but it is quite possible that everybody who may remember you after you are gone will be also numbered with the dead, and that thus the place which knows you now will know you no more for ever.

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But you will be still living. Your spirit, which is the nobler part of your being, will never die. Whatever your character, good or bad, whether you are a servant of God or a servant of the devil, your spirit is immortal. This is not so much affirmed in Scripture as assumed-assumed in every promise of everlasting life, and assumed in every threat of everlasting death.

Where, then, will you be a hundred years hence ?

We can tell you where you may be. When good men die-and by good men we mean true followers of the Lord Jesus Christ-their spirits enter at once into the presence of the Saviour in heaven. They bid farewell for ever to sorrow and care; but, unspeakably better even than that, delightful as it is, they are freed evermore from sin, which is the one great source of all misery; every holy affection is quickened, and they render to the Lord a perfect service, which knows no weariness, and which will never end. When

the first Christian martyr, Stephen, was dying, it was his assured hope that he should be received at once into the presence of Jesus. So, too, the apostle Paul believed that to die was "gain," and that, departing, he would go "to be with Christ," which was "far better." A hundred years hence, then, you may be before the throne of the Lord Jesus Christ in heaven, gladdened by His smile, the companion of angels and of spirits ransomed, like yourself, from everlasting death, your present dim and imperfect views of Divine truth exchanged for a perfect knowledge, and you may be uniting with the countless multitudes of the saved in celebrating the praises of redeeming love.

That is where you may be. But then you may not be there; for all who die do not go to be "with Christ." If not "with Christ," then where ?

There is one of our Lord's parables-the most solemn and impressive of all the parables-which may help us to find an answer to this question—it is that of the rich man and Lazarus. It describes the rich man, whilst his brothers were still living on earth, as in hell, lifting up his eyes, being in torments. If the parable teaches anything, it surely teaches this-that just as the saved enter at once into perfect blessedness, so the impenitent and unforgiven sinner passes at once to "his own place of retribution and woe."

Now which of these, think you, is the more likely?

"The precious blood" which the Lord Jesus shed on the cross cleanses the soul from all its guilt; and as soon as the contrite sinner believes in Christ, he is freely and entirely forgiven. But more is needed than forgiveness. They must all be holy who are admitted to heaven; but the Lord Jesus sends His Holy Spirit into the heart which believes in His great sacrifice, that He may renew its desires and affections, deliver it from the love of sin, and make all things new. The man who is thus forgiven and renewed becomes, in consequence of his forgiveness and renewal, a child of God; and to all who thus become His sons the Lord promises the everlasting inheritance of heaven.