purpose for which it is clear they were never intended. Their historical value to ourselves is only an incident and accident of their designed purpose: that was to teach to the Israelites their code, and to give them motives for observing it (which has come to be to us a part of history), and not to teach history to us. The idea of history, taking the word in the meaning it has for us, did not exist then. It could not, indeed, have existed then, for everything has its own place and time, and the time for history had not come then. First, the seed is deposited in the ground, then comes the tender shoot, next the stem and blades, after that the plant flowers; last of all comes the full corn in the ripe ear. Those early days were the time when the materials were in many places being collected, out of which we have to construct human history. It is fortunate for us that in those first times men did not forestall the idea of history: that would have prevented their attending singly to what they were themselves doing, and to the thoughts that were at work in their own minds. CHAPTER XI. GOING UP TO THE TOP OF THE GREAT PYRAMID. How fearful And dizzy ’tis to cast one’s eyes so low: The crows and choughs that wing the midway air Show scarce so gross as beetles.—SHAKSPEARE. Of course you listen to anything people have to say on a subject about which you are at the moment interested. Here are some specimens of what I heard about the Pyramids, when I was on the point of visiting them. A gentleman, who had that day returned from making the ascent, was, as he sat at the _table d’hôte_, overflowing with his impressions. His complexion and voice were somewhat womanly. As might have been expected, he strongly advised that everyone should attempt what he had himself just accomplished. There was, however, some novelty in the advantage, he thought, would result from the ascent, as well as in the logical process by which it was to be attained. ‘Go up,’ his words were, ‘go up by all means. The religious effects are very good. Elevated to so enormous a height above the earth, on so vast and imperishable a structure, you feel deeply and profitably the littleness, the feebleness of man.’ I asked the owner of a New York dry-goods store, who was rushing over the world for the purpose of adding to the stock of his ideas—a very creditable effort in a man of his antecedents and occupation, and who was now half-gray—what he thought of the Pyramids? ‘Well,’ was his reply, ‘they are a matter biggish. But I don’t think them much, for we can have just as good Pyramids in Central Park, New York, if we choose to spend the money to have them. A Pyramid is nothing but dollars. How many dollars do you say one would cost? Well, we have got all these, and many more, to spare. We have got the Pyramids in our pockets, and can set them up any day we please.’