rved out immortality for themselves, has not wrought more effectually
for the increase of knowledge than have those excavators in Egypt who
have uncovered the Rosetta stone, with other manuscripts of brick and
marble. Of all these instructive tablets and tombs, none are more
interesting than one picturing forth a national festival in the Jewish
capital. Upon his canvas of stone the unknown artist portrays for us
Herod's temple with its outer courts and columns and its massive walls.

We see the public square crowded with merchants and traders, who have
come in from the great cities of the world to this festival of the
fathers. With solemn pageantry, these Jews, who were the bankers and
merchants of that far-off age, march through the streets toward the
gate that is called Beautiful. In the vast parade are men notable by
their princely wealth in Ephesus and Antioch, in Alexandria and Rome.
We see one advancing with his retinue of servants, another with the
train which corresponds to his wealth. One group the artist exhibits
as characteristic. Advancing before their lord and master are four
servants, who lift up in the presence of admiring spectators a platter
upon which lies a heap of shining gold. The murmur of admiration that
runs through the crowd is sweeter to the old merchant's ear than any
music of harp or human voice. Passing by the treasury, what gifts are
cast upon the resounding table! How heavy the bars of gold! What
silver plate! What pearls and jewels! How rich the fabrics and
hangings for the temple! As at St. Peter in the sixteenth century, so
in Christ's day it seemed as if the whole world were being swept for
treasures for enriching this glorious temple.

But when the lions of the procession had all passed by, there followed
also the crowd of stragglers. From this post of observation we are
told that Christ saw a poor widow advancing. With falling tears, yet
with exquisite grace and tenderness, she cast in two mites, or one
half-penny, then passed on to worship him whom she loved, all
unconscious of the fact that she had also passed into immortality. For
the noise of the gold falling into the resounding chest has long since
died away. Jerusalem itself is in ruins. The old temple with its
magnificence has gone to decay. The proud thrones and monarchies have
all fallen into dust. But the silent fidelity of this obscure woman is
a voice that thunders down the long aisles of time. A thou