and provided they can be used for a profitable purpose, I believe they
may be told, without any affirmation as to their truthfulness being made
in a court of justice; but the moment any doubt comes across the mind of
the preacher as to whether the tale is at least founded on fact, I think
he had better look for something else, for he has the whole world to go
to as a storehouse of illustration.

If you want to interest your congregation, and keep up their attention,
you can find anecdotes and illustrations in many channels, like golden
grains glistening among the mountain streams. For instance, there is
_current history_. You may take up the daily newspaper, and find
illustrations there. In my little book, "The Bible and the Newspaper," I
have given specimens of how this may be done; and when I was preparing
the present lecture, I took up a newspaper to see if I could find an
illustration in it, and I soon found one. There was an account of a man
at Wandsworth, who was discovered, with a gun and a dog, trespassing on
some gentleman's preserves, and he said that he was only looking for
mushrooms! Can you imagine what the gun and the dog had to do with
mushrooms? However, the keeper felt in the man's pocket, and laying
hold of something soft, asked, "What is this!" "Oh," said the poacher,
"it is only a rabbit!" When it was suggested to him that the creature's
ears were too long for a rabbit, he said that it was only a leveret,
whereas it proved to be a very fine and plump hare. The man then said
that he had found the hare lying near some mushrooms, but his intention
was to get the mushrooms only! Now, that is a capital illustration. As
soon as ever you lay hold of a man, and begin to accuse him of sin, he
says, "Sin, sir! Oh, dear, no! I was only doing a very proper thing,
just what I have a perfect right to do; I was looking for mushrooms; I
was not poaching!" You press him a little more closely, and try to bring
him to conviction of sin; and then he says, "Well, perhaps it was hardly
the thing, it may have been a little amiss; but it was only a rabbit!"
When the man cannot any longer deny that he is guilty of sin, he says
that it was only a very little one; and it is long before you can get
him to admit that sin is exceeding sinful; indeed, no human power can
ever produce genuine conviction in the heart of a single sinner; it must
be the work of the Holy Spirit.

I also read in the same newspaper of a calamitous shipwreck caused
through the lack of lights. You could easily turn that incident to
account by using it to illustrate the destruction of souls through the
want of a knowledge of Christ. I have no doubt, if you were to take up
any of this morning's daily papers, you would very readily find an
abundance of illustrations. Mr. Newman Hall, in addressing us once, said
that every Christian minister ought to read regularly his Bible and _The
Times_ newspaper. I should imagine from the usual mode of his address
that he does so himself. Whether you read that particular paper or any
other, you should somehow keep yourselves well stored with illustrations
taken from the ordinary transactions going on round about you. I pity
even a Sunday-school teacher, much more a minister of the gospel, who
could not make use of such incidents as the terrible burning of the
church at Santiago, the great fire at London Bridge, the entrance into
London of the Princess Alexandra, the taking of the census; and, indeed,
anything that attracts public attention. There is in all these events an
illustration, a simile, an allegory, which may point a moral and adorn a
tale.

You may sometimes adapt _local history_ to the illustration of your
subject. When a minister is preaching in any particular district he
will often find it best to catch the ears of the people, and engross
their attention, by relating some anecdote that relates to the place
where they live. Whenever I can, I get the histories of various
counties; for, having to go into all sorts of country towns and villages
to preach, I find that there is a great deal of useful material to be
dug out of even dull, dry, topographical books. They begin, perhaps,
with the name of John Smith, laborer, the man who keeps the parish
register, and winds up the parish clock, and makes mouse-traps, and
catches rats, and does fifty other useful things; but if you have the
patience to read on, you will find much information that you could get
nowhere else, and you will probably meet with many incidents and
anecdotes that you can use as illustrations of the truth you are seeking
to set forth.

Preaching at Winslow, in Buckinghamshire, it would not be at all amiss
to introduce the incident of good Benjamin Keach, the pastor of the
Baptist church in that town, standing in the pillory in the market-place
in the year 1664, "for writing, printing, and publishing a schismatical
book entitled, 'The Child's Instructor; or, a New and Easy Primmer.'" I
do not think, however, that if I were preaching at Wapping I should
call the people "_Wapping_ sinners," as Rowland Hill is said to have
done, when he told them that "Christ could save old sinners, great
sinners, yea, even Wapping sinners!" At Craven Chapel it would be most
appropriate to tell the story of Lord Craven, who was packing up his
goods to go into the country at the time of the Great Plague of London,
when his servant said to him, "My lord, does your God live only in the
country?" "No," replied Lord Craven, "he is here as well as there."
"Well, then," said the servant, "if I were your lordship, I think I
would stop here; you will be as safe in the city as in the country;" and
Lord Craven did stop there, relying upon the good providence of God.

Besides this, brethren, you have the marvelous storehouse of _ancient
and modern history_--Roman, Greek, and English--with which, of course,
you are seeking to become well acquainted. Who can possibly read the old
classic tales without feeling his soul on fire? As you rise from their
perusal, you will not merely be familiar with the events which happened
in "the brave days of old," but you will have learned many lessons that
may be of service in your preaching to-day. For instance, there is the
story of Phidias and the statue of the god which he had carved. After
he had finished it, he had chiseled in the corner, in small letters, the
word "Phidias," and it was objected that the statue could not be
worshiped as a god, nor considered sacred, while it bore the sculptor's
name. It was even seriously questioned whether Phidias should not be
stoned to death because he had so desecrated the statue. How could he
dare, they asked, to put his own name on the image of a god? So, some of
us are very apt to want to put our little names down at the bottom of
any work which we have done for God, that we may be remembered, whereas
we ought rather to upbraid ourselves for wishing to have any of the
credit of that which God the Holy Ghost enables us to do.

Then there is that other story of an ancient sculptor, who was about to
put the image of a god into a heathen temple, although he had not
finished that portion of the statue which was to be embedded in the
wall. The priest demurred, and declared that the statue was not
completed. The sculptor said, "That part of the god will never be seen,
for it will be built into the wall." "The gods can see in the wall,"
answered the priest. In like manner, the most private parts of our
life--those secret matters that can never reach the human eye--are
still under the ken of the Almighty, and ought to be attended to with
the greatest care. It is not sufficient for us to maintain our public
reputation among our fellow-creatures, for our God can see in the wall;
he notices our coldness in the closet of communion, and he perceives our
faults and failures in the family.

Trying once to set forth how the Lord Jesus Christ delights in his
people because they are his own handiwork, I found a classic story of
Cyrus extremely useful. When showing a foreign ambassador round his
garden, Cyrus said to him, "You cannot possibly take such an interest in
these flowers and trees as I do, for I laid out the whole garden myself,
and every plant here I planted with my own hand. I have watered them,
and I have seen them grow, I have been a husbandman to them, and
therefore I love them far better than you can." So, the Lord Jesus
Christ loves the fair garden of his church, because he laid it all out,
and planted it with his own gracious hand, and he has watched over every
plant, and nourished and cherished it.

The days of the Crusaders are a peculiarly rich period for noble stories
that will make good illustrations. We read that the soldiers of Godfrey
de Bouillon, when they came within sight of the city of Jerusalem, were
so charmed with the view that they fell on their faces, and then rose to
their feet, and clapped their hands, and made the mountains ring with
their shouts of joy. Thus, when we get within sight of the New
Jerusalem, our happy home on high, whose name is ever dear to us, we
will make our dying-chamber ring with hallelujahs, and even the angels
shall hear our songs of praise and thanksgiving. It is also recorded,
concerning this same Godfrey, that, when he had entered Jerusalem at the
head of his victorious army, he refused to wear the crown with which his
soldiers wanted to deck his brow. "For," said he, "why should I wear a
crown of gold in the city where my Lord wore a crown of thorns!" This is
a good lesson for us to learn for ourselves, and to teach to our people.
In the world where Christ was despised and rejected of men, it would be
unseemly for a Christian to be seeking to win earthly honors, or
ambitiously hunting after fame. The disciple must not think of being
above his Master, nor the servant above his Lord.

Then you might easily make an illustration out of that romantic story,
which may or may not be true, of Queen Eleanor sucking the poison out of
her husband's wounded arm. Many of us, I trust, would be willing, as it
were, to suck out all the slander and venom from the arm of Christ's
church, and to bear any amount of suffering ourselves, so long as the
church itself might escape and live. Would not any one of you, my
brethren, gladly put his lips to the envenomed wounds of the church
to-day, and suffer even unto death, sooner than let the doctrines of
Christ be impugned, and the cause of God be dishonored?

What a fine field of illustration lies open to you in _religious
history_! It is difficult to tell where to begin digging in this mine of
precious treasure. The story of Luther and the Jew might be used to set
forth the evil of sin, and how to avoid it. A Jew was seeking an
opportunity of stabbing the Reformer; but Luther received a portrait of
the would-be murderer, so that, wherever he went, he was on his guard
against the assassin. Using this fact himself as an illustration, Luther
said: "God knows that there are sins that would destroy us, and he has
therefore given us portraits of them in his Word, so that, wherever we
see them, we may say, 'That is a sin that would stab me; I must beware
of that evil thing, and keep out of its way.'"

Stout Hugh Latimer, in that famous story of an incident in his trial
before several bishops, brings out very clearly the omnipresence and
omniscience of God, and the care that we ought to exercise in the
presence of One who can read our most secret thoughts and imaginations.
He says: "I was once in examination before five or six bishops, where I
had much trouble; thrice every week I came to examinations, and many
traps and snares were laid to get something.... At last I was brought
forth to be examined in a chamber hung with arras, where I was wont to
be examined; but now at this time the chamber was somewhat altered. For
whereas, before, there was wont always to be a fire in the chimney, now
the fire was taken away, and arras hung over the chimney, and the table
stood near the fireplace. There was, among the bishops who examined me,
one with whom I had been very familiar, and took him for my great
friend, an aged man, and he sat next to the table's end. Then, among all
other questions, he put forth a very subtle and crafty one, and such a
one, indeed, as I could not think so great danger in. And when I should
make answer, 'I pray you, Mr. Latimer,' said one, 'speak out; I am very
thick of hearing, and there may be many that sit far off.' I marveled at
this, that I was bid to speak out, and began to suspect, and give an
ear to the chimney; and there I heard a pen writing in the chimney
behind the cloth. They had appointed one there to write all mine
answers, for they made sure that I should not start from them; and there
was no starting from them. God was my good Lord, and gave me answer,
else I could never have escaped." Preaching, some years afterward,
Latimer himself told the story, and applied the illustration. "My
hearer," said he, "there is a recording pen always at work behind the
arras, taking down all thou sayest, and noting all thou doest: therefore
be thou careful that thy words and acts are worthy of record in God's
Book of Remembrance."

You might aptly illustrate the doctrine of God's special providential
care of his servants by relating the story of John Knox, who, one
evening, refused to sit in his usual seat, though he did not know any
particular reason for so acting. No one was allowed to occupy that
chair, and during the evening a shot came in through the window, and
struck a candlestick that stood immediately opposite where John Knox
would have been sitting if he had taken his accustomed place. There is
also the case of the godly minister, who, in escaping from his
persecutors, went into a hay-loft, and hid himself in the hay. The
soldiers went into the place, pricking and thrusting with their swords
and bayonets, and the good man even felt the cold steel touch the sole
of his foot, and the scratch which was made remained for years: yet his
enemies did not discover him. Afterward a hen came and laid an egg every
day hard by the place where he was hidden, and so he was sustained as
well as preserved until it was safe for him to leave his hiding-place.
It was either the same minister, or one of his persecuted brethren, who
was providentially protected by such a humble agent as a spider. This is
the story as I have read it: "Receiving friendly warning of an intended
attempt to apprehend him, and finding men were on his track, he took
refuge in a malt-house, and crept into the empty kiln, where he lay
down. Immediately after, he saw a spider lower itself across the narrow
entrance by which he had got in, thus fixing the first line of what was
soon wrought into a large and beautiful web. The weaver and the web,
placed directly between him and the light, were very conspicuous. He was
so much struck with the skill and diligence of the spider, and so much
absorbed in watching her work, that he forgot his own danger. By the
time the network was completed, crossing and re-crossing the mouth of
the kiln in every direction, his pursuers came into the malt-house to
search for him. He noted their steps, and listened to their cruel words
while they looked about. Then they came close to the kiln, and he
overheard one say to another, 'It's no use to look in _there_; the old
villain can never be there: _look at that spider's web; he could never
have got in there without breaking it_.' Without further search they
went to seek elsewhere, and he escaped safely out of their hands."

There is another story I have somewhere met with, of a prisoner, during
the American war, who was put into a cell in which there was a little
slit, through which a soldier's eye always watched him day and night.
Whatever the prisoner did, whether he ate, or drank, or slept, the
sentinel's eye was perpetually gazing at him; and the thought of it, he
said, was perfectly dreadful to him, it almost drove him mad; he could
not bear the idea of having that man's eye always scrutinizing him. He
could scarcely sleep; his very breathing became a misery, because, turn
which way he would, he could never escape from the gaze of that
soldier's eye. That story might be used as an illustration of the fact
that God's omniscient eye is always looking at every one of us.

I remember making two or three of my congregation speak out pretty
loudly by telling them this story, which I read in a tract. I suppose it
may be true; I receive it as reliable, and I wish I could tell it as it
is printed. A Christian minister, residing near the backwoods, took a
walk one evening for silent meditation. He went much farther than he
intended, and, missing the track, wandered away into the woods. He kept
on, endeavoring to find the road to his home; but failed to do so. He
was afraid that he would have to spend the night in some tree; but
suddenly, as he was going forward, he saw the glimmer of lights in the
distance, and therefore pressed on, hoping to find shelter in a friendly
cottage. A strange sight met his gaze; a meeting was being held in a
clearing in the middle of the woods, the place being lit up with blazing
pine-torches. He thought, "Well, here are some Christian people met to
worship God; I am glad that what I thought was an awkward mistake in
losing my way has brought me here; I may, perhaps, both do good and get
good."

To his horror, however, he found that it was an atheistical gathering,
and that the speakers were venting their blasphemous thoughts against
God with very great boldness and determination. The minister sat down
full of grief. A young man declared that he did not believe in the
existence of God, and dared Jehovah to destroy him then and there if
there was such a God. The good man's heart was meditating how he ought
to reply, but his tongue seemed to cleave to the roof of his mouth; and
the infidel orator sat down amid loud acclamations of admiration and
approval. Our friend did not wish to be a craven, or to hold back in the
day of battle, and therefore he was almost inclined to rise and speak,
when a hale, burly man, who had passed the meridian of life, but who was
still exceedingly vigorous, and seemed a strong, muscular clearer of the
backwoods, rose and said, "I should like to speak if you will give me a
hearing. I am not going to say anything about the topic which has been
discussed by the orator who has just sat down; I am only going to tell
you a fact: will you hear me?" "Yes, yes," they shouted; it was a free
discussion, so they would hear him, especially as he was not going to
controvert. "A week ago," he began, "I was working up yonder, on the
river's bank, felling trees. You know the rapids down below. Well, while
I was at my employment, at some little distance from them, I heard cries
and shrieks, mingled with prayers to God for help. I ran down to the
water's edge, for I guessed what was the matter. There I saw a young
man, who could not manage his boat; the current was getting the mastery
of him, and he was drifting down the stream, and ere long, unless some
one had interposed, he would most certainly have been swept over the
falls, and carried down to a dreadful death. I saw that young man kneel
down in the boat, and pray to the Most High God, by the love of Christ,
and by his precious blood, to save him. He confessed that he had been an
infidel; but said that, if he might but be delivered this once, he would
declare his belief in God. I at once sprang into the river. My arms are
not very weak, I think, though they are not so strong as they used to
be. I managed to get into the boat, turned her round, brought her to the
shore, and so I saved that young man's life; and that young man is the
one who has just sat down, and who has been denying the existence of
God, and daring the Most High to destroy him!" Of course I used that
story to show that it was an easy thing to brag and boast about holding
infidel sentiments in a place of safety; but that, when men come into
peril of their lives, then they talk in a very different fashion.

There is a capital story, which exemplifies the need of going up to the
house of God, not merely to listen to the preacher, but to seek the
Lord. A certain lady had gone to the communion in a Scotch church, and
had greatly enjoyed the service. When she reached her home, she inquired
who the preacher was, and she was informed that it was Mr. Ebenezer
Erskine. The lady said that she would go again, the next Sabbath, to
hear him. She went, but she was not profited in the least; the sermon
did not seem to have any unction or power about it. She went to Mr.
Erskine, and told him of her experience at the two services. "Ah,
madam," said he, "the first Sabbath you came to meet the Lord Jesus
Christ, and you had a blessing; but the second Sabbath you came to hear
Ebenezer Erskine, and you had no blessing, and you had no right to
expect any." You see, brethren, a preacher might talk to the people, in
general terms, about coming to worship God, and not merely to hear the
minister, yet no effect might be produced by his words, for there might
not be anything sufficiently striking to remain in the memory; but after
such an anecdote as this one about Mr. Erskine and the lady, who could
forget the lesson that was intended to be taught?

Well, now, supposing that you have exhausted all the illustrations to be
found in current history, in local history, in ancient and modern
history, and in religious history--which I do not think you will do
unless you are yourselves exhausted--you may then turn to _natural
history_, where you will find illustrations and anecdotes in great
abundance; and you need never feel any qualms of conscience about using
the facts of nature to illustrate the truths of Scripture, because there
is a sound philosophy to support the use of such illustrations. It is a
fact that can easily be accounted for, that people will more readily
receive the truth of revelation if you link it with some kindred truth
in natural history, or anything that is visible to the eye, than if you
give them a bare statement of the doctrine itself. Besides, there is
this important fact that must not be forgotten: the God who is the
Author of revelation is also the Author of creation, and providence, and
history, and everything else from which you ought to draw your
illustrations. When you use natural history to illustrate the
Scriptures, you are only explaining one of God's books by another volume
that he has written.

It is just as if you had before you two works by one author, who had, in
the first place, written a book for children; and then, in the second
place, had prepared a volume of more profound instruction for persons
of riper years and higher culture. At times, when you found obscure and
difficult passages in the work meant for the more advanced scholars, you
would refer to the little book which was intended for the younger folk,
and you would say, "We know that this means so-and-so, because that is
how the matter is explained in the book for beginners." So creation,
providence, and history are all books which God has written for those to
read who have eyes, written for those who have ears to hear his voice in
them, written even for carnal men to read, that they may see something
of God therein. But the other glorious Book is written for you who are
taught of God, and made spiritual and holy. Oftentimes, by turning to
the primer, you will get something out of that simple narrative which
will elucidate and illustrate the more difficult classic, for that is
what the Word of God is to you.

There is a certain type of thought which God has followed in all things.
What he made with his Word has a similarity to the Word itself by which
he made it; and the visible is the symbol of the invisible, because the
same thought of God runs through it all. There is a touch of the divine
finger in all that God has made; so that the things which are apparent
to our senses have certain resemblances to the things which do not
appear. That which can be seen, and tasted, and touched, and handled is
meant to be to us the outward and visible sign of a something which we
find in the Word of God, and in our spiritual experience, which is the
inward and the spiritual grace; so that there is nothing forced and
unnatural in bringing nature to illustrate grace; it was ordained of God
for that very purpose. Range over the whole of creation for your
similes; do not confine yourself to any particular branch of natural
history. The congregation of one very learned doctor complained that he
gave them spiders continuously by way of illustration. It would be
better to give the people a spider or two occasionally, and then to vary
the instruction by stories, and anecdotes, and similes, and metaphors
drawn from geology, astronomy, botany, or any of the other sciences
which will help to shed a side-light upon the Scriptures.

If you keep your eyes open, you will not see even a dog following his
master, nor a mouse peeping up from his hole, nor will you hear even a
gentle scratching behind the wainscot without getting something to weave
into your sermons if your faculties are all on the alert. When you go
home to-night, and sit by your fireside, you ought not to be able to
take up your domestic cat without finding that which will furnish you
with an illustration. How soft are pussy's pads, and yet, in a moment,
if she is angered, how sharp will be her claws! How like to temptation,
soft and gentle when first it cometh to us, but how deadly, how damnable
the wounds it causeth ere long!

I recollect using, with very considerable effect in a sermon, an
incident that occurred in my own garden. There was a dog which was in
the habit of coming through the fence and scratching in my flower beds,
to the manifest spoiling of the gardener's toil and temper. Walking in
the garden one Saturday afternoon, and preparing my sermon for the
following day, I saw the four-footed creature--rather a scurvy specimen,
by the by--and having a walking-stick in my hand, I threw it at him with
all my might, at the same time giving him some good advice about going
home. Now, what should my canine friend do but turn round, pick up the
stick in his mouth, and bring it, and lay it down at my feet, wagging
his tail all the while in expectation of my thanks and kind words? Of
course, you do not suppose that I kicked him, or threw the stick at him
any more. I felt quite ashamed of myself, and I told him that he was
welcome to stay as long as he liked, and to come as often as he pleased.
There was an instance of the power of non-resistance, submission,
patience, and trust, in overcoming even righteous anger. I used that
illustration in preaching the next day, and I did not feel that I had at
all degraded myself by telling the story.

Most of us have read Alphonse Karr's book, "A Tour Round my Garden." Why
does not somebody write "A Tour Round my Dining-Table," or, "A Tour
Round my Kitchen"? I believe a most interesting volume of the kind might
be written by any man who had his eyes open to see the analogies of
nature. I remember that, one day, when I lived in Cambridge, I wanted a
sermon very badly; and I could not fix upon a subject, when, all at
once, I noticed a number of birds on the slates of the opposite house.
As I looked closely at them, I saw that there was a canary, which had
escaped from somebody's house, and a lot of sparrows had surrounded it,
and kept pecking at it. There was my text at once: "Mine heritage is
unto me as a speckled bird, the birds round about are against her."

Once more, brethren, if you cannot find illustrations in natural
history, or any of the other histories I have mentioned, _find them
anywhere_. Anything that occurs around you, if you have but brains in
your head, will be of service to you; but if you are really to interest
and profit your congregations, you will need to keep your eyes open, and
to use all the powers with which the Lord has endowed you. If you do so,
you will find that, in simply walking through the streets, something or
other will suggest a passage of Scripture, or will help you, when you
have chosen your text, to open it up to the people so as really to
arrest their attention, and convey the truth to their minds and hearts.

For instance, the snow to-day covered all the ground, and the black soil
looked fair and white. It is thus with some men under transient
reformations; they look as holy, and as heavenly, and as pure as though
they were saints; but when the sun of trial arises, and a little heat of
temptation cometh upon them, how soon do they reveal their true
blackness, and all their surface goodliness melteth away!

The whole world is hung round by God with pictures; and the preacher has
only to take them down, one by one, and hold them up before his
congregation, and he will be sure to enlist their interest in the
subject he is seeking to illustrate. But he must have his own eyes
open, or he will not see these pictures. Solomon said, "The wise man's
eyes are in his head," and addressing such a man, he wrote, "Let thine
eyes look right on, and let thine eyelids look straight before thee."
Why does he speak of seeing with the eyelids? I think he means that the
eyelids are to shut in what the eyes have perceived. You know that there
is all the difference in the world between a man with eyes and one with
no eyes. One sits down by a stream, and sees much to interest and
instruct him; but another, at the same place, is like the gentleman of
whom Wordsworth wrote:

  A primrose by a river's brim
  A yellow primrose was to him,
      And it was nothing more.

If you find any difficulty in illustrating your subject, I should
strongly recommend you to _try to teach children_ whenever you can get
an opportunity of doing so. I do not know a better way of schooling your
own mind to the use of illustrations than frequently to take a class in
the Sunday-school, or to give addresses to the scholars as often as you
can; because, if you do not illustrate _there_, you will have your
lesson or your address illustrated for you very strikingly. You will
find that the children will do it by their general worry and
inattention, or by their talk and play. I used to have a class of boys
when I was a Sunday-school teacher, and if I was ever a little dull,
they began to make wheels of themselves, twisting round on the forms on
which they sat. That was a very plain intimation to me that I must give
them an illustration or an anecdote; and I learned to tell stories
partly by being obliged to tell them. One boy whom I had in the class
used to say to me, "This is very dull, teacher; can't you pitch us a
yarn?" Of course he was a naughty boy, and you may suppose that he went
to the bad when he grew up, though I am not at all sure that he did; but
I used to try and pitch him the yarn that he wanted in order to get his
attention again. And I dare say that some of our hearers, if they were
allowed to speak out during the sermon, would ask us to pitch them a
yarn--that is, to give them something to interest them. I believe that
one of the best things you can do to teach either the old or the young
is to give them plenty of anecdotes and illustrations.

I think it would be very useful to some of you who are not yet adepts at
the art of illustration if you were to _read hooks in which there is an
abundance of metaphor, simile, and emblem_. I am not going fully into
that subject on this occasion, because this lecture is only preliminary
to the next two that I hope to deliver, in which I will try to give you
a list of cyclopedias of anecdotes and illustrations, and books of
fables, emblems, and parables; but I advise you to study such works as
Gurnall's "Christian in Complete Armor," or Matthew Henry's
"Commentary," with the distinct view of noticing all the illustrations,
emblems, metaphors, and similes that you can find. I should even select
_non_-comparisons; I like Keach's "Metaphors," where he points out the
disparity between the type and the Antitype. Sometimes, the contrasts
between different persons or objects will be as instructive as their
resemblances.

When you have read the book once, and tried to mark all the figures, go
through it again, and note all the illustrations you missed in your
first reading. You will probably have missed many; and you will be
surprised to find that there are _illustrations even in the words
themselves_. How frequently a word is itself a picture! Some of the most
expressive words that are found in human language are like rich gems,
which have passed before your eye very often, but you have not had time
to handle or to value them. In your second examination of the book, you
will notice, perhaps, what eluded you the first time, and you will find
many illustrations which are merely hinted at, instead of being given at
length. Do as I have recommended with a great many books. Get copies
that you can afford to mark with a colored pencil, so that you will be
sure to see the illustrations readily; or put them down in one of your
note-books.

I am sure that those brethren who begin early to keep a record of such
things act wisely. The commonplace-books of the old Puritans were
invaluable to them. They would never have been able to have compiled
such marvelous works as they did if they had not been careful in
collecting and arranging their matter under different heads; and thus,
all that they had ever read upon any subject was embalmed and preserved,
and they could readily refer to any point that they might require, and
refresh their memories and verify their quotations. Some of us, who are
very busy, may be excused from that task; we must do the best we can;
but some of you, who go to smaller charges, in the country especially,
ought to keep a commonplace-book, or else I am afraid you will get to be
very commonplace yourselves.

Your selection of similes, metaphors, parables, and emblems will not be
complete unless you also _search the Scriptures to find the
illustrations that are recorded there_. Biblical allusions are the most
effective methods of illustrating and enforcing the truths of the
gospel; and the preacher who is familiar with his Bible will never be at
a loss for an instance of that which "is profitable for doctrine, for
reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness." The Lord
must have meant us thus to use his Word, otherwise he would not have
given us, in the Old Testament, such a number of types and symbols of
truths, to be afterward more fully revealed under the gospel
dispensation.

Such a collection of illustrations as I have suggested will come very
handy to you in future days, and you will be reminded, by the
comparisons and figures used by others, to make comparisons and figures
for yourself. Familiarity with anything makes us _au fait_ at it; we can
learn to do almost anything by practice. I suppose that I could, by
degrees, learn to make a tub if I spent my time with a man engaged in
that business. I should know how to put the staves and the hoops if I
stayed long enough in the cooper's yard; and I have no doubt that any of
you could learn anything you desired provided you had sufficient time
and opportunity. So, if you search for illustrations, you will learn to
make them for yourselves.

That brings me to my last point. I began this lecture by warning you
against the practice of making anecdotes; I close it by advising you
often to _set yourself the task of making illustrations_. Try to make
comparisons from the things round about you. I think it would be well,
sometimes, to shut the door of your study, and say to yourself, "I will
not go out of this room until I have made at least half a dozen good
illustrations." The Chinese say that the intellect lies in the stomach,
and that the affections are there too. I think they are right on the
latter point, because, you know, if you are ever very fond of
anybody--your wife, for instance--you say that you could eat her; and
you also say that such and such a person is very sweet. So, too, the
intellect may lie in the stomach; and consequently, when you have been
shut in for two or three hours, and begin to want your dinner or tea,
you may be quickened into the making of the six illustrations I have
mentioned as a minimum. Your study would be a veritable prison if you
could not make as many useful comparisons as that from the different
objects in the room. I should say that a prison itself would furnish
suggestions for making many metaphors. I do not wish you to go to prison
for that purpose; but if you ever do get there, you ought to be able to
learn how to preach in an interesting manner upon such a passage as
this--"Bring my soul out of prison;" or this, "He was there in the
prison. But the Lord was with Joseph."

If you cannot get your brains to work in the house, you might take a
walk, and say to yourself, "I will wander over the fields, or I will get
into the garden, or I will stroll in the wood, and see if I cannot find
some illustration or other." You might even go and look in at a
shop-window, and see if there are not some illustrations to be
discovered there. Or you might stand still a little while, and hear what
people say as they go by; or stop where there is a little knot of
idlers, and try to hear what they are talking about, and see what symbol
you can make out of it. You should also spend as much time as you can
visiting the sick; that will be a most profitable thing to do, for in
that sacred service you will have many opportunities of getting
illustrations from the tried children of God as you hear their varied
experiences. It is wonderful what pages of a new cyclopedia of
illustrative teaching you might find written out with indelible ink if
you went visiting the sick, or even in talking with children. Many of
them will say things that you will be able to quote with good effect in
your sermons. At any rate, do make up your mind that you will attract
and interest the people by the way in which you set the gospel before
them. Half the battle lies in making the attempt, in coming to this
determined resolution, "God helping me, I will teach the people by
parables, by similes, by illustrations, by anything that will be helpful
to them; and I will seek to be a thoroughly interesting preacher of the
Word."

I earnestly hope you will practise the art of making illustrations. I
will try to prepare a little set of exercises for you to do week by
week. I shall give you some subject and some object, between which there
is a likeness; and I shall get you to try to see the resemblance, and to
find out what comparisons can be instituted between them. I shall also,
if I can, give you some subject without an object, and then say to you,
"Illustrate that; tell us, for instance, what virtue is like." Or,
sometimes, I may give you the object without the subject, thus--"A
diamond; how will you use that as an illustration?" Then, sometimes, I
may give you neither the subject nor the object, but just say, "Bring
me an illustration." I think we might, in this way, make a set of
exercises which would be very useful to you all.

The way to get a mind worth having is to get one well stored with things
worth keeping. Of course, the man who has the most illustrations in his
head will be the one who will use the most illustrations in his
discourses. There are some preachers who have the bump of illustration
fully developed; they are sure to illustrate their subject, they cannot
help it. There are some men who always see "likes"; they catch a
comparison long before others see it. If any of you say that you are not
good at illustrating, I reply, "My brother, you must try to grow horns
if you have not any on your head." You may never be able to develop any
vast amount of imagination or fancy if you do not possess it at the
first--just as it is hard to make a cheese out of a millstone--but by
diligent attention to this matter you may improve upon what you now are.
I do believe that some fellows have a depression in their craniums where
there ought to be a bump. I knew a young man, who tried hard to get into
this college; but he never saw how to join things together unless he
tied them by their tails. He brought out a book; and when I read it, I
found at once that it was full of my stories and illustrations; that is
to say, every illustration or story in the book was one that I had used,
but there was not one of them that was related as it ought to have been.
This man had so told the story that it was not there at all; the very
point which I had brought out he had carefully omitted, and every bit of
it was told correctly except the one thing that was the essence of the
whole. Of course, I was glad that I did not have that brother in the
college; he might have been an ornament to us by his deficiencies, but
we can do without such ornaments, indeed, we have had enough of them
already.

Finally, dear brethren, do try with all your might to get the power to
see a parable, a simile, an illustration, wherever it is to be seen; for
to a great extent this is one of the most important qualifications of
the man who is to be a public speaker, and especially of the man who is
to be an efficient preacher of the gospel of Christ. If the Lord Jesus
made such frequent use of parables, it must be right for us to do the
same.

LECTURE V.

THE SCIENCES AS SOURCES OF ILLUSTRATION.

_Astronomy._

I propose, brethren, if I am able to do it--and I am somewhat dubious
upon that point--to give you a set of lectures at intervals upon THE
VARIOUS SCIENCES AS SOURCES OF ILLUSTRATION. It seems to me that every
student for the Christian ministry ought to know at least something of
every science; he should intermeddle with every form of knowledge that
may be useful in his life's work. God has made all things that are in
the world to be our teachers, and there is something to be learned from
every one of them; and as he would never be a thorough student who did
not attend all classes at which he was expected to be present, so he who
does not learn from all things that God has made will never gather all
the food that his soul needs, nor will he be likely to attain to that
perfection of mental manhood which will enable him to be a fully
equipped teacher of others.

I shall commence with the science of ASTRONOMY; and you will, at the
beginning, understand that I am not going to deliver an astronomical
lecture, nor to mention all the grand facts and details of that
fascinating science; but I intend simply to use _astronomy as one of the
many fields of illustration that the Lord has provided for us_. Let me
say, however, that the science itself is one which ought to receive much
attention from all of us. It relates to many of the greatest wonders in
nature, and its effect upon the mind is truly marvelous. The themes on
which astronomy discourses are so grand, the wonders disclosed by the
telescope are so sublime, that, very often, minds that have been unable
to receive knowledge through other channels have become remarkably
receptive while they have been studying this science. There is an
instance of a brother who was one of the students in this college, and
who seemed to be a dreadful dolt; we really thought he never would learn
anything, and that we should have to give him up in despair. But I
introduced to him a little book called "The Young Astronomer"; and he
afterward said that, as he read it, he felt just as if something had
cracked inside his head, or as if some string had been snapped. He had
laid hold of such enlarged thoughts that I believe his cranium did
actually experience an expansion which it ought to have undergone in his
childhood, and which it did undergo by the marvelous force of the
thoughts suggested by the study of even the elements of astronomical
science.

This science ought to be the special delight of ministers of the gospel,
for surely it brings us into closer connection with God than almost any
other science does. It has been said that an undevout astronomer is mad.
I should say that an undevout man of any sort is mad--with the worst
form of madness; but, certainly, he who has become acquainted with the
stars in the heavens, and who yet has not found out the great Father of
lights, the Lord who made them all, must be stricken with a dire
madness. Notwithstanding all his learning, he must be afflicted with a
mental incapacity which places him almost below the level of the beasts
that perish.

Kepler, the great mathematical astronomer, who has so well explained
many of the laws which govern the universe, closes one of his books--his
"Harmonics"--with this reverent and devout expression of his feelings:
"I give thee thanks, Lord and Creator, that thou hast given me joy
through thy creation; for I have been ravished with the work of thy
hands. I have revealed unto mankind the glory of thy works, as far as my
limited spirit could conceive their infinitude. Should I have brought
forward anything that is unworthy of thee, or should I have sought my
own fame, be graciously pleased to forgive me." And you know how the
mighty Newton, a very prince among the sons of men, was continually
driven to his knees as he looked upward to the skies, and discovered
fresh wonders in the starry heavens. Therefore, the science which tends
to bring men to bow in humility before the Lord should always be a
favorite study with us whose business it is to inculcate reverence for
God in all who come under our influence.

The science of astronomy would never have become available to us in many
of its remarkable details if it had not been for the discovery or
invention of the _telescope_. Truth is great, but it does not savingly
affect us till we become personally acquainted with it. The knowledge of
the gospel, as it is revealed to us in the Word of God, makes it true to
us; and oftentimes the Bible is to us what the telescope is to the
astronomer. The Scriptures do not make the truth; but they reveal it in
a way in which our poor, feeble intellect, when enlightened by the Holy
Spirit, is able to behold and comprehend it.

From a book[2] to which I am indebted for many quotations in this
lecture, I learn that the telescope was discovered in this singular
manner: "A maker of spectacles at Middleburg stumbled upon the discovery
owing to his children directing his attention to the enlarged appearance
of the weathercock of a church, as accidentally seen through two
spectacle-glasses, held between the fingers some distance apart. This
was one of childhood's inadvertent acts; and seldom has there been a
parallel example of mighty results springing out of such a trivial
circumstance. It is strange to reflect upon the playful pranks of
boyhood being connected in their issue, and at no distant date, with
enlarging the known bounds of the planetary system, resolving the nebula
of Orion, and revealing the richness of the firmament." In a similar
way, a simple incident has often been the means of revealing to men the
wonders of divine grace. What a certain individual only meant to be
trifling with divine things, God has overruled for his soul's salvation.
He stepped in to hear a sermon as he might have gone to the theater to
see a play; but God's Spirit carried the truth to his heart, and
revealed to him the deep things of the kingdom, and his own personal
interest in them.

  [2] "The Heavens and the Earth," by Thomas Milner, M. A., F. R. G. S.

I think that incident of the discovery of the telescope might be
usefully employed as an illustration of the connection between little
causes and great results, showing how the providence of God is
continually making small things to be the means of bringing about
wonderful and important revolutions. It may often happen that what seems
to us to be a matter of pure accident, with nothing at all notable about
it, may really have the effect of changing the entire current of our
life, and it may be influential also in turning the lives of many others
in quite a new direction.

When once the telescope had been discovered, then the numbers and
position and movements of the stars became increasingly visible, until
at the present time we are able to study the wonders of the stellar sky,
and continually to learn more and more of the marvels that are there
displayed by the hand of God. The telescope has revealed to us much more
of the sun, and the moon, and the stars than we could ever have
discovered without its aid. Dr. Livingstone, on account of his
frequently using the sextant when he was traveling in Africa, was spoken
of by the natives as the white man who could bring down the sun, and
carry it under his arm. That is what the telescope has done for us, and
that is what faith in the gospel has done for us in the spiritual
heavens; it has brought down to us the Father, the Son, and the Holy
Spirit, and given us the high eternal things to be our present
possession and our perpetual joy.

Thus, you see, the telescope itself may be made to furnish us with many
valuable illustrations. We may also turn to good account the lessons to
be learned by the study of the stars for the purpose of navigation. The
mariner, crossing the trackless sea, by taking astronomical
observations, can steer himself with accuracy to his desired haven.
Captain Basil Hall tells us, in the book I have previously mentioned,
that "he once sailed from San Blas, on the West Coast of Mexico; and,
after a voyage of eight thousand miles, occupying eighty-nine days, he
arrived off Rio de Janeiro, having in this interval passed through the
Pacific Ocean, rounded Cape Horn, and crossed the South Atlantic,
without making land, or seeing a single sail except an American whaler.
When within a week's sail of Rio, he set seriously about determining, by
lunar observations, the position of his ship, and then steered his
course by those common principles of navigation which may be safely
employed for short distances between one known station and another.
Having arrived within what he considered, from his computations, fifteen
or twenty miles of the coast, he hove to, at four o'clock in the
morning, to await the break of day, and then bore up, proceeding
cautiously on account of a thick fog. As this cleared away, the crew had
the satisfaction of seeing the great Sugar-Loaf Rock, which stands on
one side of the harbor's mouth, so nearly right ahead that they had not
to alter their course above a point in order to hit the entrance of the
port. This was the first land they had seen for nearly three months,
after crossing so many seas, and being set backward and forward by
innumerable currents and foul winds. The effect upon all on board was
electric; and, giving way to their admiration, the sailors greeted the
commander with a hearty cheer."

In a similar manner, we also sail by guidance from the heavenly bodies,
and we have for a long season no sight of land, and sometimes do not
even see a passing sail; and yet, if we take our observations correctly,
and follow the track which they point out, we shall have the great
blessing, when we are about to finish our voyage, of seeing, not the
great Sugar-Loaf Rock, but the Fair Haven of Glory right straight before
us. We shall not have to alter our course even a single point; and, as
we sail into the heavenly harbor, what songs of joy will we raise, not
in glorification of our own skill, but in praise of the wondrous Captain
and Pilot who has guided us over life's stormy sea, and enabled us to
sail in safety even where we could not see our way!

Kepler makes a wise remark, when speaking about the mathematical system
by which the course of a star could be predicted. After describing the
result of his observations, and declaring his firm belief that the will
of the Lord is the supreme power in the laws of nature, he says: "But if
there be any man who is too dull to receive this science, I advise that,
leaving the school of astronomy, he follow his own path, and desist from
this wandering through the universe; and, lifting up his natural eyes,
with which he alone can see, pour himself out in his own heart, in
praise of God the Creator; being certain that he gives no less worship
to God than the astronomer, to whom God has given to see more clearly
with his inward eye, and who, for what he has himself discovered, both
can and will glorify God."

That is, I think, a very beautiful illustration of what you may say to
any poor illiterate man in your congregation: "Well, my friend, if you
cannot comprehend this system of theology which I have explained to you,
if these doctrines seem to you to be utterly incomprehensible, if you
cannot follow me in my criticism upon the Greek text, if you cannot
quite catch the poetical idea that I tried to give you just now, which
is so charming to my own mind, nevertheless, if you know no more than
that your Bible is true, that you yourself are a sinner, and that Jesus
Christ is your Saviour, go on your way, and worship and adore, and think
of God as you are able to do. Never mind about the astronomers, and the
telescopes, and the stars, and the sun, and the moon; worship the Lord
in your own fashion. Altogether apart from my theological knowledge, and
my explanation of the doctrines revealed in the Scriptures, the Bible
itself, and the precious truth you have received into your own soul,
through the teaching of the Holy Spirit, will be quite enough to make
you an acceptable worshiper of the Most High God."

I suppose you are all aware that among the old systems of astronomy was
one which placed the earth in the center, and made the sun, and the
moon, and the stars revolve around it. "Its three fundamental principles
were the immobility of the earth, its central position, and the daily
revolution of all the heavenly bodies around it in circular orbits."

Now, in a similar fashion, there is a way of making a system of theology
of which man is the center, by which it is implied that Christ and his
atoning sacrifice are only made for man's sake, and that the Holy Spirit
is merely a great Worker on man's behalf, and that even the great and
glorious Father is to be viewed simply as existing for the sake of
making man happy. Well, that may be the system of theology adopted by
some; but, brethren, we must not fall into that error, for, just as the
earth is not the center of the universe, so man is not the grandest of
all beings. God has been pleased highly to exalt man; but we must
remember how the psalmist speaks of him: "When I consider thy heavens,
the work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars, which thou has
ordained; what is man, that thou art mindful of him; and the son of man,
that thou visitest him?" In another place, David says, "Lord, what is
man, that thou takest knowledge of him! or the son of man, that thou
makest account of him! Man is like to vanity: his days are as a shadow
that passeth away." Man cannot be the center of the theological
universe; he is altogether too insignificant a being to occupy such a
position, and the scheme of redemption must exist for some other end
than that of merely making man happy, or even of making him holy. The
salvation of man must surely be first of all for the glory of God; and
you have discovered the right form of Christian doctrine when you have
found the system that has God in the center, ruling and controlling
according to the good pleasure of his will. Do not dwarf man so as to
make it appear that God has no care for him; for if you do that, you
slander God. Give to man the position that God has assigned to him; by
doing so, you will have a system of theology in which all the truths of
revelation and experience will move in glorious order and harmony around
the great central orb, the Divine Sovereign Ruler of the universe, God
over all, blessed forever.

You may, however, any one of you, make another mistake by imagining
yourself to be the center of a system. That foolish notion is a good
illustration, I think. There are some men whose fundamental principles
are, first of all, their own immobility: what they are, they always are
to be, and they are right, and no one can stir them; secondly, their
position is central, for them suns rise and set, and moons do wax and
wane. For them their wives exist; for them their children are born; for
them everything is placed where it appears in God's universe; and they
judge all things according to this one rule, "How will it benefit _me_?"
That is the beginning and the end of their grand system, and they expect
the daily revolution, if not of all the heavenly bodies, certainly of
all the earthly bodies around them. The sun, the moon, and the eleven
stars are to make obeisance to them. Well, brethren, that is an exploded
theory so far as the earth is concerned, and there is no truth in such a
notion with reference to ourselves. We may cherish the erroneous idea;
but the general public will not, and the sooner the grace of God expels
it from us, the better, so that we may take our proper position in a far
higher system than any of which we can ever be the center.

The Sun, then, not the earth, is the center of the solar system; which
system, mark you, is probably only one little insignificant corner of
the universe, although it includes such a vast space that if I could
give you the actual figures you would not be able to form the slightest
idea of what they really represented. Yet that tremendous system,
compared with the whole of God's universe, may be only like a single
grain of dust on the sea-shore, and there may be myriads upon myriads of
systems, some of which are made up of innumerable systems as large as
ours, and the great sun himself may only be a planet revolving round a
greater sun, and this world only a little satellite to the sun, never
yet observed by the astronomers who, it may be, live in that remoter sun
still farther off. It is a marvelous universe that God has made; and
however much of it we may have seen, we must never imagine that we have
discovered more than a very small portion of the worlds upon worlds that
God has created.

The earth, and all the planets, and all the solid matter of the
universe, are controlled, as you know, by the force of attraction. We
are kept in our place in the world, in going round the sun, by two
forces, the one called centripetal, which draws us toward the sun, and
the other called centrifugal, which is generally illustrated by the
tendency of drops of water on a trundled mop to fly off at a tangent
from the circle they are describing.

Now, I believe that, in like manner, there are two forces which are ever
at work upon all of us, the one which draws us toward God, and the
other which drives us away from him, and we are thus kept in the circle
of life; but, for my part, I shall be very glad when I can pass out of
that circle, and get away from the influence of the centrifugal force. I
believe that, the moment I do so--as soon as ever the attraction which
draws me away from God is gone--I shall be with him in heaven; that I do
not doubt. Directly one or other of the two forces which influence human
life shall be exhausted, we shall have either to drift away into the
far-off space, through the centrifugal force--which God forbid!--or else
we shall fly at once into the central orb, by the centripetal force, and
the sooner that glorious end of life comes, the better will it be for
us. With Augustine, I would say, "All things are drawn to their own
center. Be thou the Center of my heart, O God, my Light, my only Love!"

The sun himself is an enormous body; he has been measured, but I think I
will not burden you with the figures, since they will convey to you no
adequate idea of his actual size. Suffice it to say that, if the earth
and the moon were put inside the sun, there would be abundance of room
for them to go on revolving in their orbits just as they are now doing;
and there would be no fear of their knocking against that external
crust of the sun which would represent to them the heavens.

It takes about eight minutes for light to reach us from the sun. We may
judge of the pace at which that light comes when we reflect that a
cannon-ball, rushing with the swiftest possible velocity, would take
seven years to get there, and that a train, traveling at the rate of
thirty miles an hour, and never stopping for refreshments, would require
more than three hundred and fifty years before it would reach the
terminus. You may thus form some slight idea of the distance that we are
from the sun; and this, I think, furnishes us with a good illustration
of faith. There is no man who can know, except by faith, that the sun
exists. That he did exist eight minutes ago, I know, for here is a ray
of light that has just come from him, and told me that; but I cannot be
sure that he is existing at this moment. There are some of the fixed
stars, that are at such a vast distance from the earth, that a ray of
light from them takes hundreds of years to reach us; and, for aught we
know, they may have been extinct long ago. Yet we still put them down in
our chart of the heavens, and we can only keep them there by faith, for
as, "through faith we understand that the worlds were framed by the Word
of God," so it is only by faith that we can know that any of them now
exist. When we come to examine the matter closely, we find that our
eyesight, and all our faculties and senses, are not sufficient to give
us positive conviction with regard to these heavenly bodies; and
therefore we still have to exercise faith; so is it to a high degree in
spiritual affairs, we walk by faith, not by sight.

That the sun has spots upon his face, is a fact which everybody notices.
Just so; and if you are suns, and are never so bright, yet if you have
any spots upon you, you will find that people will be very quick to
notice them, and to call attention to them. There is often much more
talk about the sun's spots than there is about his luminous surface;
and, after the same fashion, more will be said about any spots and
imperfections that men may discover in our character than about any
excellences that they may see in us. It was for some time asserted that
there were no spots or specks whatever on the sun. Many astronomers,
with the aid of the telescope, as well as without it, discovered these
blemishes and patches on the face of the sun; but they were assured by
men who ought to have known--namely, by the reverend fathers of the
church, that it was impossible that there could be anything of the
kind. The book I have previously quoted says: "Upon Scheiner, a German
Jesuit, reporting the evidence of his senses to his provincial superior,
the latter positively refused to believe him. 'I have read,' said he,
'Aristotle's writings from end to end many times, and I can assure you
that I have nowhere found in them anything similar to what you mention.
Go, my son, and tranquilize yourself: be assured that what you take for
spots in the sun are the faults of your glasses, or of your eyes.'" So,
brethren, we know the force of bigotry, and how men will not see what is
perfectly plain to us, and how, even when facts are brought before them,
they cannot be made to believe in them, but will attribute them to
anything but that which is the real truth. I am afraid that the Word of
God itself has often been treated just in that way. Truths that are
positively and plainly revealed there are stoutly denied, because they
do not happen to fit in with the preconceived theories of unbelievers.

There have been a great many attempts to explain what the spots upon the
sun really are. One theory is, that the solar orb is surrounded by a
luminous atmosphere, and that the spots are open spaces in that
atmosphere through which we see the solid surface of the sun. I cannot
see any reason why that theory should not be the truth; and, if it be
so, it seems to me to explain the first chapter of Genesis, where we are
told that God created the light on the first day, though he did not make
the sun until the fourth day. Did he not make the light first, and then
take the sun, which otherwise might have been a dark world, and put the
light on it as a luminous atmosphere? The two things certainly might
very well fit in with each other; and if these spots are really openings
in the luminous atmosphere through which we see the dark surface of the
sun, they are admirable illustrations of the spots that men see in us.
We are clothed with holiness as with a garment of light; but every now
and then there is a rift through which observers can see down into the
dark body of natural depravity that still is in the very best of us.

It is a dangerous thing to look at the sun with unprotected eyes. Some
have ventured to look at it with glasses that have no coloring in them,
and they have been struck blind. There have been several instances of
persons who have inadvertently neglected to use a proper kind of glass
before turning the telescope to the sun, and so have been blinded. This
is an illustration of our need of a Mediator, and of how necessary it is
to see God through the medium of Christ Jesus our Lord; else might the
excessive glory of the Deity utterly destroy the faculty of seeing God
at all.

The effect of the sun upon the earth, I shall not dwell upon now, as
that may rather concern another branch of science than astronomy. It
will suffice to say that living plants will sometimes grow without the
sun, as you may have seen them in a dark cellar; but how blanched they
are when existing under such circumstances! What must have been the
pleasure with which Humboldt entered into the great subterranean cave
called the Cueva del Guacharo, in the district of Caraccas! It is a
cavern inhabited by nocturnal, fruit-eating birds, and this was what the
great naturalist saw: "Seeds, carried in by the birds to their young,
and dropped, had sprung up, producing tall, blanched, spectral stalks,
covered with half-formed leaves; but it was impossible to recognize the
species from the change in form, color, and aspect, which the absence of
light had occasioned. The native Indians gazed upon these traces of
imperfect organization with mingled curiosity and fear, as if they were
pale and disfigured phantoms banished from the face of the earth."

So, brethren, think what you and I would be without the light of God's
countenance. Picture a church growing, as some churches do grow, without
any light from heaven, a cavern full of strange birds and blanched
vegetation. What a terrible place for any one to visit! There is a cave
of that sort at Rome, and there are others in various parts of the
earth; but woe unto those who go to live in such dismal dens!

What a wonderful effect the light of God's countenance has upon men who
have the divine life in them, but who have been living in the dark!
Travelers tell us that, in the vast forests of the Amazon and the
Orinoco, you may sometimes see, on a grand scale, the influence of light
in the coloring of the plants when the leaf-buds are developing. One
says: "Clouds and rain sometimes obscure the atmosphere for several days
together, and during this time the buds expand themselves into leaves.
But these leaves have a pallid hue till the sun appears, when, in a few
hours of clear sky and splendid sunshine, their color is changed to a
vivid green. It has been related that, during twenty days of dark dull
weather, the sun not once making his appearance, the leaves were
expanded to their full size, but were almost white. One forenoon the sun
began to shine in full brightness, when the color of the forest changed
so rapidly that its progress might be marked. By the middle of the
afternoon, the whole, for many miles, presented the usual summer dress."

That is a beautiful illustration, it seems to me, that does not want any
opening up; you can all make the application of it to the Lord Jesus for
yourselves. As Dr. Watts sings--

  In the darkest shades if he appear,
    My dawning is begun;
  He is my soul's sweet morning star,
    And he my rising sun.

Then we begin to put on all sorts of beauty, as the leaves are painted
by the rays of the sun. We owe every atom of color that there is in any
of our virtues, and every trace of flavor that there is in any of our
fruits, to those bright sunbeams that come streaming down to us from the
Sun of Righteousness, who carries many other blessings besides healing
beneath his wings.

The effect of the sun upon vegetation can be observed among the flowers
in your own garden. Notice how they turn to him whenever they can; the
sunflower, for instance, follows the sun's course as if he were himself
the sun's son, and lovingly looked up to his father's face. He is very
much like a sun in appearance, and I think that is because he is so
fond of turning to the sun. The innumerable leaves of a clover field
bend toward the sun; and all plants, more or less, pay deference to the
sunlight to which they are so deeply indebted. Even the plants in the
hothouse, you can observe, do not grow in that direction you would
expect them to do if they wanted warmth, that is, toward the stovepipe,
whence the heat comes, nor even to the spot where most air is admitted;
but they will always, if they possibly can, send out their branches and
their flowers toward the sun. That is how we ought to grow toward the
Sun of Righteousness; it is for our soul's health that we should turn
our faces toward the Sun, as Daniel prayed with his windows open toward
Jerusalem. Where Jesus is, there is our Sun; toward him let us
constantly incline our whole being.

Not very long ago I met with the following remarkable instance of the
power of rays of light transmitted from the sun: some divers were
working at Plymouth Breakwater; they were down in the diving-bell,
thirty feet below the surface of the water; but a convex glass, in the
upper part of the bell, concentrated the sun's rays full upon them, and
burned their caps. As I read this story, I thought it was a capital
illustration of the power there is in the gospel of our Lord Jesus
Christ. Some of our hearers are fully thirty feet under the waters of
sin, if they are not even deeper down than that; but, by the grace of
God, we will yet make them feel the blessed burning power of the truths
we preach, even if we do not succeed in setting them all on fire with
this powerful glass. Perhaps, when you were a boy, you had a
burning-glass, and when you were out with a friend who did not know what
you had in your pocket, while he was sitting very quietly by your side,
you took out your glass, and held it for a few seconds over the back of
his hand until he felt something rather hot just there. I like the man
who, in preaching, concentrates the rays of the gospel on a sinner till
he burns him. Do not scatter the beams of light; you can turn the glass
so as to diffuse the rays instead of concentrating them; but the best
way of preaching is to focus Jesus Christ, the Sun of Righteousness,
right on a sinner's heart. It is the best way in the world to get at
him; and if he is thirty feet under the water, this burning-glass will
enable you to reach him; only mind that you do not use your own candle
instead of the Sun, for that will not answer the same purpose.

Sometimes the sun suffers eclipse, as you know. The moon intrudes
between us and the sun, and then we cannot see the great orb of day. I
suppose we have all seen one total eclipse, and we may see another. It
is a very interesting sight; but it appears to me that people take a
great deal more notice of the sun when he is eclipsed than they do when
he is shining clearly. They do not stand looking at him, day after day,
when he is pouring forth his bright beams in unclouded glory; but as
soon as ever he is eclipsed, then they are out in their thousands, with
their glasses, and every little boy in the street has a fragment of
smoked glass through which he watches the eclipse of the sun.

Thus, brethren, I do not believe that our Lord Jesus Christ ever
receives so much attention from men as when he is set forth as the
suffering Saviour, evidently crucified among them. When the great
eclipse passed over the Sun of Righteousness, then all eyes were fixed
upon him, and well they might be. Do not fail to tell your hearers
continually about that awful eclipse on Calvary; but mind that you also
tell them all the effects of that eclipse, and that there will be no
repetition of that stupendous event.

  Lo! the sun's eclipse is o'er;
  Lo! he sets in blood no more.

Speaking of eclipses reminds me that there is, in the book I have
mentioned, a striking description of one given by a correspondent who
wrote to the astronomer Halley. He took his stand at Haradow Hill, close
to the east end of the avenue of Stonehenge, a very capital place for
observation, and there he watched the eclipse. He says of it: "We were
now enveloped in a total and palpable darkness, if I may be allowed the
expression. It came on rapidly, but I watched so attentively that I
could perceive its progress. It came upon us like a great black cloak
thrown over us, or like a curtain drawn from that side. The horses we
held by the bridle seemed deeply struck by it, and pressed closely to us
with marks of extreme surprise. As well as I could perceive, the
countenances of my friends wore a horrible aspect. It was not without an
involuntary exclamation of wonder that I looked around me at this
moment. It was the most awful sight I had ever beheld in my life."

So, I suppose, it must be in the spiritual realm. When the Sun of this
great world suffered eclipse, then were all men in darkness; and when
any dishonor comes upon the cross of Christ, or upon Christ himself,
then is each Christian himself in darkness of a horrible kind. He
cannot be in the light if his Lord and Master is in the shade.

One observer describes what he saw in Austria, where, it appears, all
the people made the eclipse a time for keeping holiday, and turned out
together on the plain with various modes of observing the wonderful
sight. This writer says: "The phenomenon, in its magnificence, had
triumphed over the petulance of youth, over the levity which some
persons assume as a sign of superiority, over the noisy indifference of
which soldiers usually make profession. A profound stillness also
reigned in the air; the birds had ceased to sing." The more curious
thing is that, in London, after an eclipse, when the cocks found that
the sun shone out again, they all began crowing as though they joyfully
thought that the daylight had broken through the gloom of night.

Yet this wonderful phenomenon does not appear to have always attracted
the attention of all persons who might have witnessed it. History says
that, at one time, there was a battle being fought, I think, in Greece,
and, during its progress, there came on a total eclipse of the sun; but
the warriors went on fighting all the same, indeed, they never noticed
the extraordinary occurrence. That shows us how strong passions may
make us forget surrounding circumstances, and it also teaches us how a
man's engagements on earth may make him oblivious of all that is
transpiring in the heavens. We read, just now, of how those horses, that
were standing idly on Salisbury Plain, trembled during the eclipse; but
another writer tells us that the horses in Italy, that were busily
occupied in drawing the carriages, do not appear to have taken the
slightest notice of the phenomenon, but to have gone on their way the
same as usual. Thus, the engagements of a worldly man are often so
engrossing in their character that they prevent him from feeling those
emotions which are felt by other men whose minds are more at liberty to
meditate upon them.

I met with a very pretty story concerning an eclipse, which you will
probably like to hear. A poor little girl, belonging to the commune of
Sièyes, in the Lower Alps, was tending her flock on the mountain-side at
six o'clock on a bright summer morning. The sun had risen, and was
dissipating the vapors of the night, and every one thought that there
would be a glorious, unclouded day; but gradually the light darkened
until the sun had wholly disappeared, and a black orb took the place of
the glowing disk, while the air became chill, and a mysterious gloom
pervaded the whole region. The little child was so terrified by the
circumstance, which was certainly unusual, that she began to weep, and
cried out loudly for help. Her parents, and other friends, who came at
her call, did not know anything about an eclipse, so they were also
astounded and alarmed; but they tried to comfort her as best they could.
After a short time, the darkness passed away from the face of the sun,
and it shone out as before, and then the little girl cried aloud, in the
_patois_ of the district, "O beautiful sun!" and well she might. When I
read the story, I thought that, when my heart had suffered eclipse, and
the presence of Christ had gone for a while, and then had come back
again, how beautiful the Sun seemed to me, even more bright and fair
than before the temporary darkness. Jesus seemed to shine on me with a
brighter light than ever before, and my soul cried out in an ecstasy of
delight, "O beautiful Sun of Righteousness!"

That story must, I think, close our illustrations derived from the sun;
for we want also to learn all we can from his planets, and if we intend
to pay a visit to them all, we shall have to travel far, and to travel
fast, too.

The nearest planet that revolves around the sun is MERCURY, which is
about 37,000,000 miles from the great luminary. Mercury, therefore,
receives a far greater allowance of light and heat from the sun than
comes to us upon the earth. It is believed that, even at the poles of
Mercury, water would always boil; that is to say, if the planet is
constituted at all as this world is. None of us could possibly live
there; but that is no reason why other people should not, for God could
make some of his creatures to live in the fire just as well as he could
make others to live out of it. I have no doubt that, if there are
inhabitants there, they enjoy the heat. In a spiritual sense, at any
rate, we know that men who live near to Jesus dwell in the divine flame
of love.

Mercury is a comparatively small planet; its diameter is about 2960
miles, while that of the earth is 7975. Mercury rushes round the sun in
eighty-eight days, traveling at the rate of nearly 110,000 miles in an
hour, while the earth traverses only 65,000 miles in the same time.
Fancy crossing the Atlantic in about two or three minutes! It is an
instance of the wisdom of God that Mercury appears to be the densest of
the planets. You see, that part of a machine in which there is the most
rapid whirl, and the greatest wear and tear, ought to be made of the
strongest material; and Mercury is made very strong in order to bear the
enormous strain of its swift motion, and the great heat to which it is
subjected.

This is an illustration of how God fits every man for his place; if he
means me to be Mercury--the messenger of the gods, as the ancients
called him--and to travel swiftly, he will give me a strength
proportioned to my day. In the formation of every planet, adapting it to
its peculiar position, there is a wonderful proof of the power and
forethought of God; and in a similar manner does he fit human beings for
the sphere they are each called to occupy.

I like to see in Mercury a picture of the child of God who is full of
grace. Mercury is always near the sun; indeed, so near that it is itself
very seldom seen. I think Copernicus said that he never did see it,
although he had long watched for it with great care, and he deeply
regretted that he had to die without having ever seen this planet.
Others have observed it, and it has been quite a treat for them to be
able to watch its revolutions.

Mercury is usually lost in the rays of the sun; and that is where you
and I ought to be, so close to Christ, the Sun of Righteousness, in our
life and in our preaching, that the people who are trying to observe
our movements can scarcely see us at all. Paul's motto must be
ours--"Not I, but Christ."

Mercury, also, in consequence of being so near the sun, is apparently
the least understood of any of the planets. It has, perhaps, given more
trouble to the astronomers than any other member of the heavenly family;
they have paid great attention to it, and tried to find out all about
it; but they have had a very difficult task, for it is generally lost in
the solar glory, and never seen in a dark portion of the heavens. So, I
believe, brethren, that the nearer we live to Christ, the greater
mystery shall we be to all mankind. The more we are lost in his
brightness, the less will they be able to understand us.

If we were always what we should be, men would see in us an illustration
of the text, "Ye are dead, and your life is hid with Christ in God."
Like Mercury, we ought also to be so active in our appointed orbit that
we should not give observers time to watch us in any one position; and
next, we should be so absorbed in the glory of Christ's presence, that
they would not be able to perceive us.

When Mercury is seen from the earth, it is never visible in its
brightness, for its face is always turned toward the sun. I am afraid
that, whenever any of us are seen very much, we usually appear only as
black spots; when the preacher is very prominent in a sermon, there is
always a darkness. I like gospel preaching to be all Christ, the Sun of
Righteousness, and no black spot at all; nothing of ourselves, but all
of the Lord Jesus. If there are any inhabitants of Mercury, the sun must
appear to them four or five times as large as he does to us; the
brightness would be insufferable to our eyes. It would be a very
splendid sight if one could gaze upon it; and thus, the nearer you get
to Christ, the more you see of him, and the more he grows in your
esteem.

The next planet to Mercury is VENUS; it is about 66,000,000 miles from
the sun, and is a little smaller than the earth, its diameter being 7510
miles, compared with our 7975. Venus goes round the sun in 225 days,
traveling at the rate of 80,000 miles an hour. When the Copernican
system of astronomy was fairly launched upon the world, one of the
objections to it was stated thus: "It is clear that Venus does not go
round the sun, because, if it does, it must present the same aspect as
the moon--namely, it must sometimes be a crescent, at other times a
half-moon, or it must assume the form known as _gibbous_, and sometimes
it must appear as a complete circle. But," said the objector, pointing
to Venus, "she is always the same size; look at her, she is not at all
like the moon." This was a difficulty that some of the earlier
astronomers could not explain; but when Galileo was able to turn his
newly made telescope to the planet, what did he discover? Why, that
Venus does pass through similar phases to those of the moon! We cannot
always see the whole of it enlightened, yet I suppose it is true that
the light of Venus always appears about the same to us. You will
perceive in a moment why that is; when the planet's face is turned
toward us, it is at the greatest distance from the earth; consequently,
the light that reaches us is no more than when it is closer, but has its
face at least partly turned away from us. To my mind, the two facts are
perfectly reconcilable; and so is it, I believe, with some of the
doctrines of grace that perplex certain people. They say, "How do you
make these two things agree?" I reply, "I do not know that I am bound to
prove how they agree. If God had told me I would tell you; but as he has
not done so, I must leave the matter where the Bible leaves it." I may
not have discovered the explanation of any apparent difference between
the two truths, and yet, for all that, the two things may be perfectly
consistent with each other.

Venus is both the morning star and "the star of the evening, beautiful
star." It has been called Lucifer, and Phosphorus, the light-bringer,
and also Hesperus, the vesper star. You perhaps remember how Milton, in
"Paradise Lost," refers to this double character and office of Venus:

  Fairest of stars! last in the train of night,
  If better thou belong not to the dawn;
  Sure pledge of day, that crown'st the smiling morn
  With thy bright circlet: praise him in thy sphere,
  While day arises, that sweet hour of prime.

Our Lord Jesus Christ calls himself "the bright and morning star."
Whenever he comes into the soul, he is the sure harbinger of that
everlasting light which shall go no more down forever. Now that Jesus,
the Sun of Righteousness, has gone from the gaze of man, you and I must
be like evening stars, keeping as close as we can to the great central
Sun, and letting the world know what Jesus was like by our resemblance
to him. Did he not say to his disciples, "Ye are the light of the
world"?

The next little planet that goes round the sun is THE EARTH. Its
distance from the sun varies from about ninety-two to ninety-five
millions of miles. Do not be discouraged, gentlemen, in your hopes of
reaching the sun, because you are nothing like so far away as the
inhabitants of Saturn; if there are any residents there, they are about
ten times as far from the sun as we are. Still, I do not suppose you
will ever take a seat in Sol's fiery chariot; at least not in your
present embodied state; it is far too warm a place for you to be at home
there. The earth is somewhat larger than Venus, and it takes much longer
to go round the sun; it is twelve months on its journey, or, speaking
exactly, 365 days, 6 hours, 9 minutes, and 10 seconds. This world is a
slow-going concern; and I am afraid it is less to the glory of God than
any other world that he has made. I have not seen it from a distance;
but I should suspect that it never shines anything like so brightly as
Venus; for, through sin, a cloud of darkness has enveloped it. I suppose
that, in the millennial days, the curtain will be drawn back, and a
light will be thrown upon the earth, and that it will then shine to the
glory of God like its sister stars that have never lost their pristine
brightness. I think there have been some curtains drawn up already;
every sermon, full of Christ, that we preach, rolls away some of the
mists and fogs from the surface of the planet; at any rate, morally and
spiritually, if not naturally.

Still, brethren, though the earth travels slowly, when compared with
Mercury and Venus, yet, as Galileo said, it does move, and at a pretty
good rate, too. I dare say, if you were to walk for twenty minutes, and
you knew nothing about the speed at which the earth is traveling, you
would be surprised if I assured you that you had in that short space of
time gone more than 20,000 miles; but it would be a fact. This book,
which has already given us much useful information, says: "It is a truly
astonishing thought that, 'awake, asleep, at home, abroad,' we are
constantly carried round with the terrestrial mass, at the rate of
eleven miles a minute, and are, at the same time, traveling with it in
space with a velocity of sixty-six thousand miles an hour. Thus, during
the twenty minutes consumed in walking a mile from our thresholds, we
are silently conveyed more than twenty thousand miles from one portion
of space to another; and, during a night of eight hours' rest, or
tossing to and fro, we are unconsciously translated through an extent
equal to twice the distance of the lunar world."

We do not take any notice of this movement, and so it is that little
things, which are near and tangible, often seem more notable than great
things which are more remote. This world impresses many men with far
greater force than the world to come has ever done, because they look
only upon the things that are seen and temporal. "But," perhaps you say,
"we do not feel ourselves moving." No, but you are moving, although you
are not conscious of it. So, I think that, sometimes, when a believer in
Christ does not feel himself advancing in divine things, he need not
fret on that account; I am not certain that those who imagine themselves
to be growing spiritually are really doing so. Perhaps they are only
growing a cancer somewhere; and its deadly fibers make them fancy there
is a growth within them. Alas! so there is; but it is a growth unto
destruction.

When a man thinks that he is a full-grown Christian, he reminds me of a
poor boy whom I used to see. He had such a splendid head for his body
that he had often to lay it on a pillow, for it was too weighty for his
shoulders to carry, and his mother told me that, when he tried to stand
up, he often tumbled down, over-balanced by his heavy head. There are
some people who appear to grow very fast, but they have water on the
brain, and are out of due proportion; but he who truly grows in grace
does not say, "Dear me! I can feel that I am growing; bless the Lord!
Let's sing a hymn, 'I'm a-growing! I'm a-growing!'" I have sometimes
felt that I was growing smaller, brethren; I think that is very
possible, and a good thing, too. If we are very great in our own
estimation, it is because we have a number of cancers, or foul
gatherings, that need to be lanced, so as to let out the bad matter that
causes us to boast of our bigness.

It is a good thing that we do not feel ourselves moving, for, as I
before reminded you, we walk by faith, not by sight. Yet I know that we
are moving, and I am persuaded that I shall return, as nearly as the
earth's revolution permits, to this exact spot this day twelve-month. If
they are looking down at me from Saturn, they will spy me out somewhere
near this same place, unless the Lord should come in the meantime, or he
should call me up to be with him.

If we did feel the world move, it would probably be because there was
some obstruction in the heavenly road; but we go on so softly, and
gently, and quietly that we do not perceive it. I believe that growth in
grace is very much after the same fashion. A babe grows, and yet does
not know that he grows; the seed unconsciously grows in the earth, and
so we are developing in the divine life until we come to the fulness of
the stature of men in Christ Jesus.

Waiting upon the earth is THE MOON. In addition to her duty as one of
the planets revolving round the sun, she has the task of attending upon
the earth, doing much useful service for it, and at night lighting it
with her great reflector-lamp, according to the allowance of oil she has
available for shedding her beams upon us. The moon also operates upon
the earth by her powers of attraction; and as the water is the more
mobile part of our planet, the moon draws it toward herself, so making
the tides; and those tides help to keep the whole world in healthful
motion; they are a sort of life-blood to it.

The moon undergoes eclipse, sometimes very frequently, and a great deal
more often than the sun; and this phenomenon has occasioned much terror.
Among some tribes, an eclipse of the moon is an occasion for the
greatest possible grief. Sir R. Schomberg thus describes a total lunar
eclipse in San Domingo: "I stood alone upon the flat roof of the house
which I inhabited, watching the progress of the eclipse. I pictured in
imagination the lively and extraordinary scene which I once witnessed
in the interior of Guiana, among the untutored and superstitious
Indians, how they rushed out of their huts when the first news of the
eclipse came, gibbered in their tongue, and, with violent
gesticulations, threw up their clenched fists toward the moon. When, as
on this occasion, the disk was perfectly eclipsed, they broke out in
moanings, and sullenly squatted upon the ground, hiding their faces
between their hands. The females remained, during this strange scene,
within their huts. When, shining like a sparkling diamond, the first
portion of the moon, that had disencumbered itself from the shadow,
became visible, all eyes were turned toward it. They spoke to each other
with subdued voices; but their observations became louder and louder,
and they quitted their stooping position as the light increased. When
the bright disk announced that the monster which wanted to stifle the
Queen of Night had been overcome, the great joy of the Indians was
expressed in that peculiar whoop which, in the stillness of the night,
may be heard for a great distance."

Want of faith causes the most extraordinary fear, and produces the most
ridiculous action. A man who believes that the moon, though temporarily
hidden, will shine forth again, looks upon an eclipse as a curious
phenomenon worthy of his attention, and full of interest; but the man
who really fears that God is blowing out the light of the moon, and that
he shall never see its bright rays any more, feels in a state of
terrible distress. Perhaps he will act as the Hindus and some of the
Africans do during an eclipse: they beat old drums, and blow bullocks'
horns, and make all manner of frightful noises, to cause the dragon who
is supposed to have swallowed the moon to vomit it up again. That is
their theory of an eclipse, and they act accordingly; but once know the
truth, and know especially the glorious truth that "all things work
together for good to them that love God, to them that are the called
according to his purpose," and we shall not be afraid of any dragon
swallowing the moon, nor of anything else that the fears of men have
made them imagine. If we are ignorant of the truth, every event that
occurs, which may be readily enough accounted for from God's point of
view, may cause the utmost terror, and drive us, perhaps, into the
wildest follies.

The next planet to the earth is MARS; fiery Mars, generally shining with
a ruddy light. It used to be thought that the color of Mars's "blood-red
shield" was caused by the absorption of the solar rays; but this idea
has been refuted, and it is now believed to be due to the color of its
soil. According to the former idea, an angry man, who is like Mars, the
god of war, must be one who has absorbed all other colors for his own
use, and only shows the red rays to others; while the more modern
notion, that the soil of the planet gives it its distinctive color,
teaches us that, where there is a fiery nature, there will be a warlike
exhibition of it unless it is restrained by grace. Mars is about
140,000,000 miles from the sun; it is much smaller than our earth, its
equatorial diameter being 4363 miles. Traveling at the rate of 53,600
miles an hour, it takes 687 days to complete its revolution round the
sun.

Between the orbits of Mars and Jupiter there is a wide zone, in which,
for many centuries, no planets were visible; but the astronomers said
within themselves, "There must surely be something or other between Mars
and Jupiter." They could not find any great planets; but as telescopes
became larger and more powerful, they observed that there was a great
number of ASTEROIDS or PLANETOIDS, as some term them. I do not know how
many there are, for they are like some of our brethren's families, they
are daily increasing. Some hundreds of them have already been
discovered; and by the aid of telescopic photography, we may expect to
hear of the finding of many more. The first asteroid was identified on
the first day of the present century, and was named Ceres. Many of them
have been called by female mythological names, I suppose because they
are the smaller planets, and it is considered gallant to give them
ladies' names. They appear to vary from about 20 to 200 miles in
diameter; and many have thought that they are the fragments of some
planet that once revolved between Mars and Jupiter, but that has been
blown up, and gone to pieces in a general wreck.

Those meteoric stones, which sometimes fall to the earth, but which much
more frequently, at certain seasons of the year, are seen shooting
across the midnight sky, may also be fragments of the aforesaid world
which has perished. At all events, since the fathers fell asleep, all
things have not continued as they were; there have been changes in the
starry world to let men know that other changes will yet come. These
blocks of meteoric matter are flying through space, and when they get
within the range of our atmosphere, there is an opposing medium, they
have to drive through it at an enormous rapidity, and so they become
burning hot, and thus they become visible. And, in like manner, I
believe that there are plenty of good men in the world who are invisible
till they get to be opposed, and being opposed, and having the love of
God driving them on with tremendous momentum, they become red-hot with
holy fervor, they overcome all opposition, and then they become visible
to the eye of mankind. For my part, I rather like to pass through an
opposing medium. I think that we all want to travel in that kind of
atmosphere just to give us the sacred friction that will fully develop
the powers with which we have been intrusted. If God has given us force,
it is not at all a bad thing for us to be put where there is opposition,
because we shall not be stopped by it, but shall by that very process be
made to shine all the brighter as lights in the world.

Beyond the space which is occupied by the asteroids is the magnificent
planet, JUPITER, the brightest star which we see, except Venus; and yet
he is very, very far away. His mean distance from the sun is about
475,000,000 miles; that is, more than five times as far off as we are.
Even here, we are so far away that we do not often see the sun; but
Jupiter is five times as far from the sun, and it takes him 4333 days,
or nearly twelve of our years, to go round the great luminary,
traveling at a speed of 27,180 miles an hour. The reason why Jupiter is
so bright is, partly, because of his great size, for he is nearly 90,000
miles in diameter, while the earth is less than 8,000, and it may be
partly because he is better constituted for reflecting, or else, at that
distance, his magnitude would not avail him. And brethren, if you and I
are put in difficult positions, where we seem to be unable to shine to
the glory of God, we must ask the Lord specially to constitute us so
that we can better reflect his brightness, and so produce as good an
effect as our brethren who are placed in more favorable positions.

Jupiter is attended by four moons.[3] These satellites were discovered
soon after the invention of the telescope; yet there were several
persons who would not believe in their existence, and one of our
excellent friends, the Jesuits, of course, was strongest in his
determination that he never would, by any process, be convinced of that
which others knew to be a fact. He was asked to look through a telescope
in order to see that it was really so; but he declined because he said
that, perhaps, if he did so, he would be obliged to believe it; and as
he had no desire to do so, he refused to look. Are there not some who
act thus toward the truths of revelation? Some time after, the Jesuit
fell under the anger of good Kepler, and being convinced that he was in
the wrong, he went to the astronomer and begged his pardon. Kepler told
him that he would forgive him, but he would have to inflict a penance
upon him. "What will it be?" he inquired. "Why," said Kepler, "you must
look through that telescope." That was the direst punishment the Jesuit
could possibly receive; for, when he looked through the instrument, he
was obliged to say that he did see what he had formerly denied, and he
was obliged to express his conviction of the truth of the astronomer's
teaching. So, sometimes, to make a man see the truth is a very severe
penalty to him. If he does not want to see it, it is a good thing to
compel him to look at it. There are a great many brethren, who are not
Jesuits, and who yet are not anxious to know the whole truth; but I hope
that you and I, brethren, will always desire to learn all that the Lord
has revealed in his Word.

  [3] In 1892 a fifth satellite was discovered through the great
  telescope at the Lick Observatory in California.

This was the argument of Sizzi, an astronomer of some note, who tried to
prove that Jupiter's moons could not exist. I wonder whether you can see
the flaw in it: "There are seven windows given to animals in the
domicile of the head, through which the air is admitted to the
tabernacle of the body, to enlighten, to warm, and to nourish it; which
windows are the principal parts of the microcosm, or little world, two
nostrils, two eyes, two ears, and one mouth. So, in the heavens, as in a
microcosm, or great world, there are two favorable stars, Jupiter and
Venus; two unpropitious, Mars and Saturn; two luminaries, the sun and
the moon; and Mercury alone undecided and indifferent, from which, and
from many other phenomena of nature, such as the seven metals, etc.,
which it were tedious to enumerate, we gather that the number of planets
is necessarily seven. Moreover, the satellites are invisible to the
naked eye, and therefore can exercise no influence over the earth, and
therefore would be useless, and therefore do not exist. Besides, as well
the Jews and other ancient nations, as modern Europeans, have adopted
the division of the week into seven days, and have named them from the
seven planets. Now, if we increase the number of the planets, this whole
system falls to the ground."

I think, brethren, that I have heard the same kind of argument advanced
many times with reference to spiritual matters; that is, an argument
from theory against fact; but facts will always overturn theories all
the world over, only that, sometimes, it takes a good while before the
facts can be absolutely proved.

It is a singular thing, and another instance of the power and wisdom of
God, that though the satellites of Jupiter are constantly being
eclipsed, as is natural enough from their rapid revolutions around him,
yet they are never all eclipsed at one time. One moon may be eclipsed,
and perhaps another, or even three out of the four; but there is always
one left shining; and, in like manner, God never takes away all the
comfort of his people at once, there is always some ray of light to
cheer them.

There is a great deal more to be learned from Jupiter; but having
introduced you to him, I will leave you to examine him for yourselves,
and to get all you can out of him.

Far, far beyond Jupiter is SATURN. That respectable planet has been very
much slandered, but I am happy to inform you that he does not deserve
such treatment. He is nearly 900,000,000 miles from the sun. I wonder
whether any brother here, with a large mind, has any idea of what a
million is; I do not suppose that he has, and I am sure that I have not.
It takes a vast deal of thinking to comprehend what a million means; but
to realize what is meant by a million miles is altogether beyond one's
mental grasp. A million pins would be something enormous; but a million
miles! And here we are talking of nine hundred millions of miles; well,
I give up all thought of understanding what that is so long as I am in
this finite state. Why, when you speak of nine hundred millions, you
might as well say nine hundred billions at once; for the one term is
almost as incomprehensible as the other; and yet, please to recollect
that this vast space is to our great God only a mere hand's-breadth
compared with the immeasurable universe that he has created.

I said that Saturn had been greatly slandered, and so he has. You know
that we have, in our English language, the word "saturnine," as a very
uncomplimentary description of certain individuals. When a man is
praised for being very hearty and genial, he is said to be jovial, in
allusion to Jove, or Jupiter, the brightly shining planet; but a person
of an opposite temperament is called saturnine, because it is supposed
that Saturn is a dull planet, dreadfully dreary, and that his influences
are malignant and baneful. If you have read some of the astrological
books which I have had the pleasure of studying, you have there been
told that, if you had been born under the influence of Saturn, you
might almost as well have been born under the influence of Satan, for it
will come to about the same thing in the end. He is supposed to be a
very slow sort of individual, his symbol is the hieroglyphic of lead;
but he is really a very light and buoyant personage. His diameter is
about nine times as great as that of the earth, and while in volume he
is equal to 746 worlds as large as ours, his weight is equal to only 92
such globes. The densities of the planets appear to diminish according
to their distance from the sun, not in regular proportion, but still
very largely so; and there seems to be no reason why those which are
most remote, and travel slowly, should be made so dense as those which
are nearer the central orb, and revolve more quickly around him.

This useful volume, from which I have already given you several
extracts, says: "Instead, therefore, of sinking like lead in the mighty
waters, he would float upon the liquid, if an ocean could be found
sufficiently capacious to receive him. John Goad, the well-known
astro-meteorologist, declared the planet not to be such a 'plumbeous,
blue-nosed fellow' as all antiquity had believed and the world still
supposed. But it was the work of others to prove it. For six thousand
years or so Saturn concealed his personal features, interesting family,
and strange appurtenances--the magnificent out-buildings of his
house--from the knowledge of mankind. But he was caught at last by a
little tube, pointed at him from a slope of the Apennines, the holder of
which, in invading his privacy, cared not to ask leave, and deemed it no
intrusion." When that "little tube" was turned upon him he was found to
be a most beautiful planet, one of the most varied and most marvelous of
all the planetary worlds.

Take that as an illustration of the falseness of slander, and of how
some persons are very much bemired and bespattered because people do not
know them. This planet, which was so despised, turned out to be a very
beautiful object indeed; and, instead of being very dull, and what the
word saturnine usually means, he is bright and glorious. Saturn also has
no less than eight satellites to attend him; and, in addition, he has
three magnificent rings, of which Tennyson has sung:

  Still as, while Saturn whirls, his steadfast shade
  Sleeps on his luminous rings.

Saturn has only about a hundredth part of the light from the sun as
compared with what we receive; and yet, I suppose, the atmosphere might
be so arranged that he might have as much solar light as we have; but
even if the atmosphere is of the same kind as ours, Saturn would still
have as much light as we have in an ordinary London fog. I am speaking,
of course, of the light from the sun; but then we cannot tell what
illuminating power the Lord may have put in the planet himself; and
beside that, he has his eight moons, and his three shining rings, which
have a brilliance that we cannot either imagine or describe. What must
it be to see a marvelous arch of light rising to a height of 37,570
miles above the planet, and having the enormous span of 170,000 miles!
If you were at the equator of Saturn, you would only see the rings as a
narrow band of light; but if you could journey toward the poles, you
would see above you a tremendous arch, blazing with light, like some of
the vast reflectors that you see hung up in large buildings where they
cannot get sufficient sunlight. The reflector helps to gather up the
rays of light, and throw them where they are needed; and I have no doubt
that these rings act like reflectors to Saturn. It must be a wonderful
world to live in if there are inhabitants there; they get compensations
which fully make up for their disadvantages in being so far away from
the sun. So is it in the spiritual world, what the Lord withholds in
one direction he makes up in another; and those who are far removed from
the means of grace and Christian privileges have an inward light and
joy, which others, with greater apparent advantages, might almost envy.

Journeying again in the heavens, far, far beyond Saturn, we come to
URANUS, or HERSCHEL, as it is sometimes called, after the astronomer who
discovered it in 1781. The mean distance of Uranus from the sun is
believed to be about 1,754,000,000 miles; I give you the figures, but
neither you nor I can have the slightest conception of the distance they
represent. To an observer standing on Uranus, the sun would probably
appear only as a faraway speck of light; yet the planet revolves around
the sun at about 15,000 miles an hour, and occupies about eighty-four of
our years in completing one journey. Uranus is said to be equal in
volume to seventy-three or seventy-four earths, and to be attended by
four moons. I do not know much about Uranus, therefore I do not intend
to say much about him.

That may serve as an illustration of the lesson that a man had better
say as little as possible concerning anything of which he knows only a
little; and that is a lesson which many people need to learn. For
instance, there are probably more works on the Book of Revelation than
upon any other part of the Scriptures, and, with the exception of just a
few, they are not worth the paper on which they are printed. Then, next
to the Book of Revelation, in this respect, is the Book of Daniel; and
because it is so difficult to explain, many men have written upon it,
but as a rule the result of their writing has been that they have only
confuted and contradicted one another. Let us, brethren, preach what we
know, and say nothing of that of which we are ignorant.

We have gone a long way, in imagination, in traveling to the planet
Uranus; but we have not yet completed our afternoon's journey. It was
observed by certain astronomers that the orbit of Uranus sometimes
deviated from the course they had marked in their chart of the heavens;
and this convinced them that there was another planetary body, not then
discovered, which was exerting an unseen but powerful influence upon
Uranus.

This fact, that these huge worlds, with so many millions of miles of
space between them, do retard or accelerate one another's movements, is
to me a beautiful illustration of the influence that you and I have upon
our fellowmen. Whether consciously or unconsciously, we either impede a
man's progress in the path that leads to God, or else we quicken his
march along the heavenward way. "None of us liveth to himself."

The astronomers came to the conclusion that there must be another
planet, previously unknown to them, that was disturbing the motion of
Uranus. Unknown to each other, an Englishman, Mr. Adams, of Cambridge,
and a Frenchman, M. Leverrier, set to work to find out the position in
which they expected the heavenly body to be discovered, and their
calculations brought them to almost identical results. When the
telescopes were pointed to that part of the heavens where the
mathematical astronomers believed the planet would be found, it was at
once discovered, shining with a pale and yellow light, and we now know
it by the name of NEPTUNE.

The volume before me thus speaks of the two methods of finding a planet,
the one worker using the most powerful telescope, and the other making
mathematical calculations: "To detect a planet by the eye, or to track
it to its place by the mind, are acts as incommensurable as those of
muscular and intellectual power. Recumbent on his easy-chair, the
practical astronomer has but to look through the cleft in his revolving
cupola in order to trace the pilgrim star in its course; or, by the
application of magnifying power, to expand its tiny disk, and thus
transfer it from among its sidereal companions to the planetary domains.
The physical astronomer, on the contrary, has no such auxiliaries: he
calculates at noon, when the stars disappear under a meridian sun; he
computes at midnight, when clouds and darkness shroud the heavens; and
from within that cerebral dome which has no opening heavenward, and no
instrument but the eye of reason, he sees in the disturbing agencies of
an unseen planet, upon a planet by him equally unseen, the existence of
the disturbing agent, and from the nature and amount of its action he
computes its magnitude and indicates its place."

What a grand thing is reason! Far above the mere senses, and then faith
is high above reason; only, in the case of the mathematical astronomer
of whom we are thinking, reason was a kind of faith. He argued: "God's
laws are so-and-so and so-and-so. This planet Uranus is being disturbed,
some other planet must have disturbed it, so I will search and find out
where he is;" and when his intricate calculations were completed, he put
his finger on Neptune as readily as a detective lays his hand on a
burglar, and a great deal sooner; indeed, it seems to me that it is
often easier to find a star than to catch a thief.

Neptune had long been shining before he was discovered and named; and
you and I, brethren, may remain unknown for years, and possibly the
world may never discover us; but I trust that our influence, like that
of Neptune, will be felt and recognized, whether we are seen of men or
only shine in solitary splendor to the glory of God.

Well, we have traveled in thought as far as Neptune, which is about
2,748,000,000 miles from the sun; and, standing there, we look over into
space, and there are myriads, and myriads, and myriads of miles in which
there appear to be no more planets belonging to the solar system. There
may be others that have not been discovered yet; but, as far as we know,
beyond Neptune there is a great gulf fixed.

There are, however, what I may call "leapers" in the system, which,
without the use of a pole, are able to cross this gulf; they are THE
COMETS. These comets are, as a rule, so thin--a mere filmy mass of
vapor--that when they come flashing into our system, and rushing out
again, as they do, they never disturb the motion of a planet. And there
are some terrestrial comets about, that I know, that go to various
towns, and blaze away for a time; but they have no power to disturb the
planets revolving there in their regular course. The power of a man does
not consist in rushing to and fro, like a comet, but in steadily shining
year after year, like a fixed star. The astronomer Halley says: "If you
were to condense a comet down to the thickness of the ordinary
atmosphere, it would not fill a square inch of space." So thin is a
comet that you might look through five thousand miles of it, and see
just as easily as if it were not there. It is well to be transparent,
brethren; but I hope you will be more substantial than most of the
comets of which we have heard.

Comets come with great regularity, though they seem to be very
irregular. Halley prophesied that the comet of 1682, of which little had
been previously known, would return at regular intervals of about
seventy-five years. He knew that he would not live to see its
reappearance; but he expressed the hope that when it did return his
prophecy might be remembered. Various astronomers were looking out for
it, and they hoped it might arrive at the time foretold, because,
otherwise, ignorant people would not believe in astronomy. But the comet
came back all right; so their minds were set at rest, and Halley's
prediction was verified.

Among the stories concerning comet-watching, there is one that contains
an illustration and a lesson also. "Messier, who had acquired the name
of 'the comet-hunter,' from the number he discovered, was particularly
anxious upon the occasion. Of great simplicity of character, his zeal
after comets was often displayed in the oddest manner. While attending
the death-bed of his wife, and necessarily absent from his observatory,
the discovery of one was snatched from him by Montaigne de Limoges. This
was a grievous blow. A visitor began to offer him consolation on account
of his recent bereavement, when Messier, thinking only of the comet,
answered, 'I had discovered twelve; alas, to be robbed of the thirteenth
by that Montaigne!' But instantly recollecting himself, he exclaimed,
'Ah! cette pauvre femme!' and went on deploring wife and comet
together." He evidently lived so much in the heavens that he forgot his
wife; and if science can sometimes carry a man away from all the trials
of this mortal life, surely our heavenly life ought to lift us up above
all the distractions and cares that afflict us.

The return of a comet is frequently announced with great certainty. This
paragraph appeared in a newspaper: "On the whole, it may be considered
as tolerably certain that the comet will become visible in every part of
Europe about the latter end of August, or the beginning of September
next. It will most probably be distinguishable by the naked eye, like a
star of the first magnitude, but with a duller light than that of a
planet, and surrounded with a pale nebulosity, which will slightly
impair its splendor. On the night of the 7th of October the comet will
approach the well-known constellation of the Great Bear; and between
that and the 11th it will pass directly through the seven conspicuous
stars of that constellation. Toward the close of November the comet will
plunge among the rays of the sun and disappear, and not issue from them,
on the other side, until the end of December. This prospectus of the
movements of a body, invisible at the time, millions of miles away, is
nearly as definite as the early advertisements of coaching between
London and Edinburgh. Let us now place the observations of the eye
alongside the anticipations of science, and we shall find that science
has proved almost absolutely correct."

Just think of the calculations, gentlemen, that were necessary; for,
though a comet does not interfere with the course of a planet, a planet
interferes very considerably with the course of a comet; so that, in
their calculations, the astronomers had to recollect the track in which
the comet would have to travel. Thinking of him as a way-worn traveler,
we remember that he will have to go by Neptune's bright abode, and
Neptune will be sure to give him a cup of tea; then he will journey on
as far as Uranus, and put up for the night there; in the morning he will
pay an early visit to Saturn, and he will stay there for breakfast; he
will dine with Jupiter; by and by he will reach Mars, and there will be
sure to be a row there; and he will be glad when he gets to Venus, and,
of course, he will be detained by her charms. You will, therefore, very
readily see, gentlemen, that the calculations as to the return of a
comet are extremely difficult, and yet the astronomers do estimate the
time to a nicety. This science is a very marvelous one, not only for
what it reveals, but for the talent which it brings out, and the lessons
it continually teaches us about the wonderful works of our great Father.

We have done with the solar system, and even with those interlopers
which come to us every now and then from far remote systems, for a
comet, I suppose, is only seen for a month, or a week, and then
sometimes does not reappear for hundreds of years. Where have they gone
all that while? Well, they have gone somewhere, and they are serving the
purpose of the God who made them, I dare say; but, for my own part, I
would not like to be a comet in God's system. I would like to have my
fixed place, and keep on shining for the Lord there. I have lived in
London for a good many years, and I have seen many comets come and go
during that time. Oh, the great lights I have seen rush by! They have
gone off into some unknown sphere, as comets usually do. I have
generally noticed that, when men are going to do so much more than
everybody else, and they are so amazingly pompous over it, their history
is usually pretty accurately described by that simple simile of going up
like a rocket and coming down like a stick.

I do not know whether you can, in imagination, lean over the battlements
of this little solar system, and see what there is beyond it. Do not
narrow your minds, gentlemen, to a few hundred millions of miles! If you
look out for a long way indeed, you will begin to see a star. I should
only be uttering meaningless words if I told you its distance from us;
yet there are others, of those that we are able to see, that are almost
immeasurably farther away. They have taken a deal of trouble to send us
a ray of light such a vast distance, to inform us that they are getting
on very well, and that, though they are at such a distance from us, they
still enjoy themselves as best they can in our absence.

These stars, as the common people look at them, seem to be scattered
about in the heavens, as we say, "anyhow." I always admire that charming
variety; and I am thankful to God that he has not set the stars in
straight lines, like rows of street-lamps. Only think, brethren, how it
would be if we looked up at night, and saw the stars all arranged in
rows, like pins on a paper! Bless the Lord, it is not so! He just took a
handful of bright worlds, and scattered them about the sky, and they
dropped into most beautiful positions, so that people say, "There is the
Great Bear;" and, "That is Charles's Wain," and every countryman knows
the Reaping-hook. Have you not seen it, brethren? Others say, "That is
the Virgin, and that is the Ram, and that is the Bull," and so on.

I think that naming of the various constellations is very like a good
deal of mystical preaching that there is nowadays. The preachers say,
"That is so-and-so, and that is so-and-so." Well, perhaps it is so; but
I do not see it. You may imagine anything you like in the constellations
of the heavens. I have pictured a fortress in the fire, and watched it
being built up, and seen little soldiers come and pull it all down. You
can see anything in the fire, and in the sky, and in the Bible, if you
like to look for it in that way; you do not see it in reality, it is
only a freak of your imagination. There are no bulls and bears in the
heavens. There may be a virgin, but she is not to be worshiped as the
Romanists teach. I hope you all know the pole-star; you ought also to
know the pointers; they point to the pole-star, and that is just what we
ought to do, to direct the poor slaves of sin and Satan to the true Star
of liberty, our Lord and Saviour, Jesus Christ.

Then there are the Pleiades; almost anybody can tell you where they are.
They are a cluster of apparently little stars, but they are intensely
bright. They teach me that, if I am a very little man, I must try to be
very bright; if I cannot be like Aldebaran, or some of the brightest
gems of the sky, I must be as bright as I can in my own particular
sphere, and be as useful there as if I were a star of the first
magnitude. Then, on the other side of the globe, they look up to the
Southern Cross. I dare say one of our brethren from Australia will give
you a private lecture upon that constellation. It is very beautiful to
think of the Cross being the guide of the mariner; it is the best guide
any one can have, either this side of the tropics or the other.

Besides the stars, there are vast luminous bodies which are called
NEBULÆ. In some parts of the heavens there are enormous masses of
light-matter; they were supposed by some to be the material out of which
worlds were made. These were the lumps of mortar, out of which,
according to the old atheistic theory, worlds grew by some singular
process of evolution; but when Herschel turned his telescope upon them,
he very soon put the nose of that theory out of joint, for he discovered
that these nebulæ were simply enormous masses of stars, such myriads
upon myriads of miles away that, to our sight, they looked just like a
little dust of light.

There are many wonderful things to be learned about the stars, to which
I hope you will give your earnest attention as you have the opportunity.
Among the rest is this fact, that some stars have ceased to be visible
to us. Tycho Brahé said that on one occasion he found a number of
villagers looking up at the sky; and on asking them why they were gazing
at the heavens, they told him that a new star had suddenly appeared. It
shone brightly for a few months, and then vanished. Many times a starry
world has seemed to turn red, as if it were on fire; it has apparently
burned, and blazed away, and then disappeared. Kepler, writing
concerning such a phenomenon, says: "What it may portend is hard to
determine; and thus much only is certain, that it comes to tell mankind
either nothing at all, or high and weighty news, quite beyond human
sense and understanding." In allusion to the opinions of some, who
explained the novel object by the Epicurean doctrine of a fortuitous
combination of atoms, he remarks, with characteristic oddity, yet good
sense, "I will tell these disputants--my opponents--not my opinion, but
my wife's. Yesterday, when weary with writing, and my mind quite dusty
with considering these atoms, I was called to supper, and a salad that I
had asked for was set before me. 'It seems, then,' said I aloud, 'that
if pewter dishes, leaves of lettuce, grains of salt, drops of water,
vinegar, and oil, and slices of egg, had been flying about in the air
from all eternity, it might at last happen, by chance, that there would
come a salad.' 'Yes,' says my wife, 'but not one so nice or well
dressed as this which I have made for you.'"

So I should think; and if the fortuitous combination of atoms could not
make a salad, it is not very likely that they could make a world. I once
asked a man who said that the world was a fortuitous concourse of atoms,
"Have you ever chanced to have no money, and to be away where you knew
nobody who would give you a dinner?" He replied, "Yes, I have." "Well,
then," said I, "did it ever happen to you that a fortuitous concourse of
atoms made a leg of mutton for you, with some nice boiled turnips, and
caper sauce, for your dinner?" "No," he said, "it has not." "Well," I
answered, "a leg of mutton, at any rate, even with turnips and caper
sauce included, is an easier thing to make than one of these worlds,
like Jupiter or Venus."

We are told, in the Word of God, that one star differeth from another
star in glory; yet one that is small may give more light to us than a
larger star which is farther away. Some stars are what is called
variable, they appear larger at one time than another. Algol, in the
head of Medusa, is of this kind. We are told that "the star, at the
brightest, appears of the second magnitude, and remains so for about two
days, fourteen hours. Its light then diminishes, and so rapidly that in
three and a half hours it is reduced to the fourth magnitude. It wears
this aspect rather more than fifteen minutes, then increases, and in
three and a half hours more resumes its former appearance." I am afraid
that many of us are variable stars; if we do sometimes wax dim, it will
be well if we regain our brightness as quickly as Algol does. Then there
are thousands of double stars. I hope that you will each get a wife who
will always shine with you, and never eclipse you, for a double star may
be very bright at one time, and sometimes be eclipsed altogether. There
are also triple stars, or systems, and quadruple systems, and there are,
in some cases, hundreds or thousands all spinning round one another, and
around their central luminaries. Wonderful combinations of glory and
beauty may be seen in the stellar sky; and some of these stars are red,
some blue, some yellow; all the colors of the rainbow are represented in
them. It would be very wonderful to live in one of them, and to look