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THE BROAD SHOULDERS.

Let us for a few moments humbly and reverently think of the place of music in the worship of the Church triumphant.

"The redeemed of the Lord shall return, and come with singing unto Zion; and everlasting joy shall be upon their head; they shall obtain gladness and joy; and sorrow and mourning shall flee away."

So proclaimed the prophet Isaiah to the Jews in their captivity. And we, wanderers in a strange land, far from our Father's home, find in it a prophecy not yet completely fulfilled. We, whose voices often weary and falter, and whose ears are often pained by the discord and want of unity which mar our earthly worship, would fain draw aside the vail, and, peering out into the darkness, look for the white-robed choir, and listen to the many-voiced song. Looking off from his lonely prison on the rock of Patmos, John saw how on a sea of glass mingled with fire there stood those "that had gotten the victory over the beast and over his image, and over his mark, and over the number of his name, having the harps of God; and they sang the song of Moses, the servant of God, and the song of the Lamb, saying, 'Great and marvellous are Thy works, Lord God Almighty; just and true are Thy ways, Thou King of Saints."" We faintly echo their ascriptions of praise! and in our better moments, when the things of the earth, which too often fill our hearts, are driven back to their proper place, and we realize our privilege and our destiny, we long for the time when

"Our spirits, too, shall quickly join,

Like theirs with glory crowned,
And shout to see our Captain's sign,
To hear His trumpet sound."

How well have the aspirations of our hearts at such moments as these been translated into song by one of the sweetest writers in our beautiful Hymnal:

Around the throne on high,
Where night can never be,

The white-robed harpers of the sky
Bring ceaseless hymns to Thee.
Too faint our anthems here;
Too soon of praise we tire;
But, O the strains how full and clear,
Of that eternal choir!

Yet, Lord, to Thy dear will,

If Thou attune the heart,

We in Thine angels' music still

May bear our lower part.
"Tis Thine each soul to calm,

Each wayward thought reclaim,
And make our daily life a psalm
Of glory to Thy name.

A little while, and then

Shall come the glorious end;
And songs of angels and of men
In perfect praise shall blend.
E. EDMONDS.

The Broad Shoulders.

CAST all thy care on God,

Nor deem thou doest wrong;

With ease He'll bear the largest load,
For He is very strong.

What makes thy spirit bend
He will not feel at all;

The mighty universe itself
To Him is very small.
Then be thou wise at once,
Come in thy need to Him;

Why should'st thou bear the cross alone,
Which wearies every limb?

If thou should'st longer stay,

"Twill grow in size and weight,
Until it crush thee in the dust,

And make thee wise too late.
Be this thy heart's true creed;
God knows thy every care,
And only waits thy willingness
Thee and thy cross to bear.

WALTER J. MATHAMS.

Dublin University.

AN observant man remarked to one of our fellow-students at Trinity College, that every Englishman will observe three things in passing through Dublin, viz., "fine public buildings, good English, and dirt. The first feature belongs to the best parts of the city, the last feature to the worst, and the remaining one prevails everywhere.

Few cities that it has been my good hap to visit in England, Scotland, France, or Italy, can boast of streets and buildings that are equal to those of Dublin. The scene that presents itself to the observer from the O'Connell Bridge, which spans the Liffey at about the centre of the city, is one of unusual interest. For stately public buildings it reminds one of Liverpool; for the straightness of its streets, as seen from that particular spot, it recalls to memory Turin; the towering monuments and statuary make vivid once more recollections of Florence; its Liffey reminds one of the Tiber; and the majestic bridge itself has but few equals in the world. Seven streets, conspicuous amongst which is the far-famed Sackville Street, all lead directly to this ponderous piece of modern masonry.

The largest and most prominent structure in Dublin is Trinity College; and not only the largest in Dublin, but, until contradicted, we shall call it, as a College, the largest and, of course, the best in the world. To one standing in the open space facing the front of the buildings, they present an imposing sight. To the right is the provost's house, erected in 1760, at a cost of £13,000, and is a facsimile of a house in Piccadilly, London, designed by the Earl of Burlington, and built for General Wade. The other side of the arched gateway leading into the College enclosure are statues of Burke and Goldsmith, who were formerly students at this College, and on a pane of the study window occupied by the latter his name remains as he inscribed it. Passing under the arched gateway we have before us four squares known as the Front Square, the Library Square, Botany Bay Square, and the New Square, the last, was begun in 1838 and finished in 1844. Of the buildings of the original College of Queen Elizabeth no portion now remains. The most prominent object in the Front Square is the Campanile, containing the College bell, weighing nearly 39 cwt. Close by is the Examination Hall, containing some fine portraits in oil of Queen Elizabeth, Archbishop Usher, Bishop Berkley, and Edmund Burke. The latter was painted by Sir Joshua Reynolds. There is also an organ placed in the gallery over the entrance, which is said to have been taken from one of the ships of the Spanish Armada. Near to the Examination Hall is the celebrated Library, which is one of the largest in the world. The story of the origin of this Library is thus told: "In the year 1601 the Spanish troops were defeated by the English at Kinsale, and Her Majesty's army, to commemorate their victory, subscribed the sum of £1,800 from the arrears of their pay to establish, in the University of Dublin, a public library. Dr. Challoner and Mr. James Usher, afterwards the celebrated Archbishop, were selected by the benefactors as the trustees of their donation, and commissioned to purchase such books as they should judge most necessary and useful for the advancement of

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DUBLIN UNIVERSITY.

learning. And it is somewhat remarkable that at this time, 1603, when the said persons were in London about the laying out this money in books, they met Sir Thomas Bodley buying books for his newlycreated library at Oxford, hence there began a correspondence between them upon this occasion, helping each other to procure the choicest and best books on several subjects that could be gotten; so that the famous Bodleian Library at Oxford, and that at Dublin, began together." The library is continually increased by copies of every book published in England. This privilege is enjoyed by Act of Parliament passed in the reign of George III.

There are six Museums in Trinity College which are used for practical instruction in Natural Philosophy, Anatomy and Zoology, Geology and Mineralogy, Engineering Models, Materia Medica and Botany. The buildings are very extensive, and have been erected at an enormous cost. One of them contains a clock in electric connection with the Observatory clock at Dunsink.

There is also an "Herbarium," consisting of eight acres of ground, and containing indigenous plants of the British Islands, together with plants of North America, British India, South Africa, and Australia, etc. These gardens are situated about one mile from the College, and are open to visitors on obtaining an order from the Provost, or any of the Fellows.

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About sixty Professors form the teaching staff in the College. The Provost (John Hewitt Jellet) is a scholar of rare attainments. He succeeded Dr. Humphrey Lloyd two years ago. He is the author of several well-written works in Mathematics and Chemical Optics; also of able treatises on The Moral Difficulties of the Old Testament," and "The Efficacy of Prayer." The name of the Senior Lecturer (Professor Haughton) has for many years been familiar to the public. He, together with Dr. Galbraith, has written a considerable series of Manuals on Trigonometry, Astronomy, Mechanics, Optics, and other subjects, published by Cassell & Co. Dr. Salmon, well known in the mathematical world as author of a treatise on Analytic Geometry, and on the Higher Plane Curves, is now the Regius Professor of Divinity. One of the most copious writers amongst the Fellows of the College is the Rev. J. P. Mahaffy, Professor of Ancient History. He is Knight (gold cross) of the order of the Saviour in Greece, and distinguished himself by an oration delivered in the Greek tongue when in that country. He is the author of a work on the Social Development of the Greeks, "Kant's Critical Philosophy for English Readers," Greek Social Life from Homer to Menander, etc., etc. He has also written a work, lately reviewed by the Christian World, on the "Decay of Preaching."

With professors of such reputation and known scholarship, and with such appliances as residence affords for gaining knowledge, life at Trinity College cannot fail in being inspiriting and helpful. The writer will number amongst the golden days of his life those in which he sat to listen to the lectures from such able scholars as Professors Mahaffy, Williamson, and McKay, while the preparation for the periodic examinations has been as oil to the mental gear, beside providing an additional charm in ministerial work. J. JOLLY.

Friend or Foe?

A SEQUEL TO "OLIVER RAYMOND."

BY E. JOSEPH AXTON.

CHAPTER III.-NEWS FROM ABROAD.

REARDEN laughed lightly when Oliver had finished his story.

"Isn't this just the very thing you expected?" he asked, pleasantly. Then, seeing Oliver's puzzled expression, he burst into an immoderate fit of mirth. "Ha, ha, ha! Don't," he gasped-" don't, for pity's sake, or you'll be the death of me. Ha, ha, ha!"

Rearden seemed to be so genuinely diverted, and his manner was so agreeable and "catching," that Oliver began to smile-a little awkwardly, though.

"That's right, old fellow-laugh it off," said Rearden, recovering. "Even if it were a serious matter, it wouldn't be worth while to let it make you serious. But it is not serious-quarrels of that sort never are, for the lady is very quickly conquered; unless," he added, with momentary gravity, "she is of the strong-minded class, when-I, at least think-it is a gain to lose her."

"But Elsie was so passionate "

"Well, and what is that but a sign of love? Ha, ha, ha! Upon my word, I beg your pardon, but I can't help laughing at you: your childlike simplicity is so perfect. You take it too much to heart, as I said before. You have nothing whatever to do but wait till Miss Elsie gets over her passion. Is any. thing simpler ?"

Oliver rose, flushed and defiant. "You are right, Amos," he said, feeling himself in a somewhat awkward position, and unconsciously identifying Elsie with the cause.

too.

"Don't look like that, man," rejoined Rearden, still laughing, as he rose "One would think you meant destruction to anyone coming within arm's length of you. Come out and have a game. You've got the 'blues,' and there isn't a finer cure. Come."

Rearden was a true prophet in this, for they had not been in the billiardroom fifteen minutes before Oliver had utterly forgotten everything, and revelled in the excitement of the company and the delirium of play.

As to Rearden himself, however, the case was slightly different. He had no "blues" to get rid of, but the peculiar thoughts awakened in his mind by the other's story remained with him through all. He nodded to one, on entering the billiard-room, smiled at another, shook hands with a third, and then played with his usual coolness and skill. But still these thoughts remained with him. What their nature was, or even that they were there, no one would have guessed by looking at his smiling, agreeable face. Perhaps, indeed, he did not himself know, not being given to psychological study. Perhaps he did not even know how pleasant they were-how sweet it was to live, so to speak, in the influence of some charming possibility, without exactly knowing what that possibility was, just as we may joyously walk in the bright sunshine and yet be quite forgetful of what causes our pleasure. Be this as it may, the thoughts were there, and they were certainly very pleasant ones. What thoughts would not be so, associated with memories of a graceful figure, of the sound of a sweet voice, of a pair of beautiful blue eyes, whose owner had charmed us-perhaps without our knowing it-more than we could say?

But when a man has in his mind such thoughts and visions as these, he cannot, if they persist in haunting him, remain long in ignorance, either of their presence or of their nature, and the pleasing influence they are exerting over him; to walk in sunbeams is, sooner or later, to become conscious of them and of the bright orb whence they come.

Rearden found this true. Not that evening only, but for many days after, his thoughts and visions attended him. Morning, noon and night, at home, in business, in company, alone-still their presence was with him, and always associated with some possibility connected with the quarrel. Then the truth suddenly burst upon him.

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FRIEND OR FOE?

"Bless me!" he cried, one Sunday evening, suddenly starting up. He had been thinking, thinking, as usual, and had caught himself at last. "I must actually be in love with Elsie Vaughan! Well, if anyone had told me, before this, that a fellow could get in love without knowing it, I should have flatly contradicted him. Amos, my friend, you're in a hard case, evidently. What are you going to do? How can you love, or, at least, marry, a girl who is going to marry me?"

To some people a predicament of this sort would have been a source of serious trouble. But Amos Rearden treated the matter very lightly. He even sat down to finish his tea in the merriest of moods. And, yet, it was not long before the flush of excitement and the frown of anxiety began to appear, and that in spite of himself.

"Men speak of honour in affairs of this sort," he murmured, "but is there a man who would deliberately give up any chance of winning a girl like that? All's fair in love and war, too, isn't it? Phew! Thinking hard doesn't agree with me, evidently."

What conclusion he would have come to it is impossible to say, for at that moment Joyce's well-known knock sounded at the front door, and then Joyce entered.

66

Hardly expected to catch you at home,” said that individual, seating himself by the window, where the soft evening light played full on his thin, pale face.

"Glad you're come," returned Rearden, really pleased to have been interrupted in that disagreeable thinking, "Had tea? "

Jane has at last named the

"Yes, thanks. I came to tell you good news. day, and Christmas will see me a happy married man."

Rearden broke into a peal of laughter. "One more unfortunate!" he said, jocosely. But Elsie's face coming in fancy before him at the instant, robbed his mirthfulness of its usual abandonment.

"Unfortunate! Take care you are not the unfortunate. Shaving clean won't hide your thirty years. But come for a stroll. I want to talk to you about the arrangements. I want some coaching, too, as to prices, else I shall be fleeced like a sheep."

Amos readily consented to this, and the pair were soon sauntering leisurely through the park, mingling with bands of joyous little children, who romped along the paths, happy fathers and mothers dressed in their Sunday-best, who viewed their offspring's free delight with a placid kind of pride, workmen with clean faces and contented looks, and, here and there, a small knot of "all sorts and conditions" of people, gathered to listen to that glad Old Story which yet never grows old.

"Look there, Joyce," said Rearden, as they came within a dozen yards of one of these groups. "Wouldn't it be worth anybody's while to become a saint in order to win the good opinion of those two pretty girls?

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At all times Joyce, though he would boldly repudiate any charge of being "religious," gravely abstained from jesting with regard to sacred things, But now he seemed less inclined than ever to alter his rule. Perhaps something in the calm and beautiful scene around-itself almost sacred-had this effect; perhaps something in the sweetly plaintive strains of the hymn, "Just as am," which the group were singing, touched him. Whatever it was, he said, rebukefully:

"Don't laugh at them, Rearden. There's plenty of things to make fun of, without religion."

Amos gazed good-humouredly at his companion. a pretty young lady, if she is singing a hymn?"

"Mustn't a fellow admire

Joyce smiled, in spite of himself, at the other's mirthful manner. "It isn't right, you know," he said, striving to remain grave.

let's talk this matter out, while we're about it."

66 But, come

Somehow, in the course of "talking the matter out," they wandered about until they wandered outside the park, and up to the door of the tavern so well known to them.

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