tian society and the course of human affairs may be forgotten or set aside. Josephus the priest may pass over in absolute silence the new sect which arises in Galilee to disturb the Jewish hierarchy. Tacitus the philosopher may give nothing more than a momentary glance at the miserable superstition of the fanatics who called themselves Christians. Napoleon the conqueror, when asked on the coast of Syria to visit the Holy City, may make his haughty reply,—"Jerusalem does not enter into the line of my operations." But this is not the natural, nor the usual, course of the greatest examples both in ancient and modern times. Observe the description of the Jewish Church by the sacred historians. Consider the immense difference for all future ages, if the lives of Joshua, David, Solomon, and Elijah had been omitted, as unworthy of insertion, because they did not belong to the priestly tribe; if the Pentateuch had been confined to the Book of Leviticus; if the Books of Kings and Chronicles had limited themselves to the sayings and doings of Zadok and Abiathar, or even of Nathan and Gad. Remember also the early chroniclers of Europe—almost all of them at once the sole historians of their age, yet, even by purpose and profession, historians only of the Church, Take but one instance—the Venerable Bede. His "Ecclesiastical History of England" begins not with the arrival of Augustine, but with the first dawn of British civilization at the landing of Cæsar; and
