“‘Ah,’ said another, advancing, ‘but I have wonderful power. You, with your rubbing, and your smiting, what can you do? but I have it, for I have two things.’ And he advanced, and he fixed an electric battery, and disposed it so that it touched the dead man, and then, from a flute which he held, he drew forth such sweet sounds that they charmed the ears which were listening; and whether it was the battery, or whether it was the music, so it was, that effect seemed to be produced. ‘Behold,’ said he, ‘what the refinements of education and cultivation will do!’ And, indeed, so it was, for the hair of the dead man seemed to rise, and his eye-balls seemed to start and dilate; and see! he rises, starts up, and takes a stride down the cave. Ah, but it is all over; it was nothing but the electricity in the battery; and he sank back again flat on the floor of the cave;—_for the man was dead_! “And then, when all were filled with despair, there came One, and stood by the entrance of the cave; but He was the Lord and Giver of life, and standing there, He said, ‘Come from the four winds, O breath, and breathe upon this slain one, that he may live. Christ hath given thee life. Awake, thou that sleepest.’ And the man arose; he shook off his grave-clothes; what he needed had come to him now—_life_! Life is the only cure for death. Not the prescriptions of duty, not the threats of punishment and damnation, not the arts and the refinements of education, but new, spiritual, Divine _life_.” The same manner appears in the way in which he traces the story of a soul seeking Christ, under the idea of the Wise Men following the leading star in “SEEKING THE YOUNG CHILD.” We have remarked before that the preacher’s descriptions of Oriental travel were always Welsh, and this could not arise so much from ignorance, for he was fairly well read in the geography, and, perhaps, even in the topography, of the Holy Land; but he was quite aware that Oriental description would be altogether incomprehensible to the great multitude of his auditors. He described, therefore, the Wise Men, not as we, perhaps, see them, on their camels, solemnly pacing the vast sandy desert, whose sands reflected the glow of the silvery star. They passed on their way through scenes, and villages, which might be recognised by the hearers, anxiously enquiring for the young Child. Turnpikes, if unknown in Palestine, our readers will, perhaps, remember as one of the great nuisances of even a very short journey in Wales in Christmas’s day. “The wise men came up to the gate,—it was closed; they spoke to the keeper, inquiring, ‘Do you know anything of the Child?’ “The gatekeeper came to the door, saying, in answer to the question, ‘You have threepence to pay for each of the asses.’