Famous Books at Popular Prices

The New Sabbath Library. A MONTHLY PUBLICATION.

Subscription Price, 60 Cents a Year. Single Copies, 5 Cents.

To meet the growing demand for pure literature at popular prices, we began in April, 1898, the issue of a monthly publication entitled the New Sabbath Library. The success of these issues has proved to be unprecedented, and they have attained an almost world-wide celebrity. Although appealing particularly to young people, they will interest all lovers of good and wholesome literature, whether young or old.

Each issue of the New Sabbath Library contains a complete story, most of them written expressly for us and copyrighted. The books are of uniform style and size (6½×8½), each containing 96 large pages in double column. They are in large, clear type, handsomely printed on good book paper, and fully illustrated with fine half-tone engravings. The covers are of heavy, white enameled paper, with beautifully engraved designs.

Prices.—Those who wish to procure this Library regularly, as it is published each month, may remit 60 cents for a year's subscription, being particular to state with which issue the subscription is to commence. Single copies may be ordered of any or all of the books at the rate of 5 cents each, or any number of copies of any one book will be sent at same rate. We prepay postage.

Cloth Editions.—We have also prepared special editions of all these books, printed on very heavy paper, beautifully bound in heavy covers, cloth backs and corners, ornamented sides. They are specially adapted for presentation purposes, and are the largest and best books ever offered for so low a price. Sent postpaid to any address, in any quantities desired, on receipt of price, 25 cents per copy.

Following is a list of books already issued, or about to be issued:

No. 1. April, 1898.

A Devotee and a Darling

By BECCA MIDDLETON SAMSON.

This book received the second prize of $500 from manuscripts submitted to the publishers in competition during the year 1897.

Fannie, an impulsive girl of sixteen, bereft of her mother, becomes devotedly attached to Church work and to the study of her Bible. She makes many blunders and is severely tried at home. At last, in a manner both strange and startling, Fannie's eyes are opened to see her own mistaken life.

No. 3. June, 1898.

Titus: a Comrade of the Cross

By FLORENCE M. KINGSLEY.

The publishers of this book, desiring to secure a life of Christ of superior merit and special character, offered a prize of $1,000 for the best manuscript submitted. The committee decided in favor of "Titus." It was an immediate success, over one million copies having been sold. It is one of the grandest books of the century, and has attracted greater attention than any other book published in this country during the past twenty years.

No. 2. May, 1898.

The Wrestler of Philippi

By FANNIE E. NEWBERRY.

A tale of the times of the early followers of Jesus, and how they lived the "Christ-life" in the first century. As "Titus" gave the reader a picture of the life and times of Christ, so this book is intended to portray the life and times of the early Church.

The plot is fascinating—a story for both young and old. Its Oriental setting, description of quaint customs, manners, beliefs, etc., give it a peculiar interest and attractiveness all its own.

No. 4. July, 1898.

Out of the Triangle

By MARY E. BAMFORD.

This is a story of the days of persecution of Christians under the Emperor Septimius Severus. The scene is mainly laid in Alexandria and the Libyan Desert. The Egyptian gods were worshiped under the form of a small triangular stone. The book relates in a vivid and intensely interesting manner the narrow escapes of an Egyptian lad who has become a Christian, and the manner in which his family accept his faith and escape from Alexandria.

(CONTINUED ON THIRD PAGE COVER)

The Prince of the House of David.

By REV. J. H. INGRAHAM.

Copyright, 1898, by David C. Cook Publishing Company.

David C. Cook Publishing Company, Elgin, Ill., and 36 Washington St., Chicago.

PREFACE.

The "Prince of the House of David," written by Rev. Mr. Ingraham, needs no recommendation. Its fame has been, long since, established, and its fascination has already held sway over multitudes of delighted readers. Recognizing fully its merits, the publishers of this edition decided to put it in the way of a still greater circulation; and in order to facilitate this, it has been thoroughly revised and in parts re-written, all unnecessary repetition appearing in the original edition of the book being omitted.

Adina, the suppositious writer of the following letters, is the daughter of a Jew who resides in Alexandria, Egypt. She has come to Jerusalem during the most stirring period of earth's history, and, from thence, for the period of three years, she keeps her father apprized of the marvelous events occurring about her during that time.

THE PUBLISHERS.

LETTER I.

My Dear Father:

My first duty, as it is my highest pleasure, is to comply with your command to write you as soon as I should arrive at Jerusalem, and this letter, while it conveys intelligence of my arrival, will confirm to you my filial obedience.

My journey hither occupied many days. When we traveled in sight of the sea, which we did for three days, I enjoyed the majesty of the prospect, it seemed so like the sky stretched out upon the earth. I also had the good fortune to see several ships, which the Rabbi informed me were Roman galleys, bound some to Sidon, and others into the Nile; and after one of these latter, as it was going to you, I sent a prayer and a wish. Just as we were leaving the sea-shore to turn off into the desert, I saw a wrecked vessel. It looked so helpless and bulky, with its huge black body all out of the water, that it seemed to me like a great sea-monster, stranded and dying; and I felt like pitying it. How terrible a tempest must be upon the sea! I was in hopes to have seen a Leviathan, but was not gratified in the wish. The good Rabbi, who seemed to know all about these things, told me that they seldom appear now in the Middle Sea, but are seen beyond the pillar of Hercules at the world's end.

At Gaza we stopped two days, and from thence we proceeded over-land to our destination.

The morning of the last day of our journey but one, having lost our way and wandered many hours eastwardly, we caught sight of the Sea of Sodom and Gomorrah, at a great distance to the east. How my pulse quickened at beholding that fearful spot! I seemed to see in imagination the heavens on fire above it, and the flames and smoke ascending as from a great furnace, as on that fearful day when they were destroyed, with all that beautiful surrounding plain, which we are told was one vast garden of beauty. How calm and still lay now that sluggish sea beneath a cloudless sky! We held it in sight many hours, and once caught a glimpse of the Jordan north of it, looking like a silver thread; yet near as it appeared to be, I was told it was a good day's journey for a camel to reach its shores.

After losing sight of this melancholy lake, our way lay along a narrow valley for some time, and the next day, on reaching an[Pg 2] eminence, Jerusalem appeared, as if risen out of the earth.

I cannot, my dear father, describe to you my emotions on beholding the Holy City! They have been experienced by millions of our people—they were similar to your own as you related them to me. All the past, with its mighty men who walked with Jehovah, rushed to my memory, and compelled me to bow my head, and worship and adore at the sight of the Temple, where God once (alas, why does he no longer visit earth and his holy house?) dwelt in the flaming Shechinah, and made known the oracles of his will.

We entered the city just before the sixth hour of the evening, and were soon at the house of our relative, Amos, the Levite. I was received as if I had a daughter's claim to their embraces; and with the luxuries with which they surrounded me in my gorgeously furnished apartments. I am sure my kinsfolk here mean to tempt me to forget the joys of the dear home I have left.

The Rabbi Amos and his family all desire to be commended to you. He seems to be a man of piety and benevolence, and greatly loves his children. I have been once to the Temple. Its outer court seemed like a vast caravanserai or market-place, being thronged with the men who sell animals for sacrifice, which crowded all parts. Thousands of doves in large cages were sold on one side, and on another were stalls for lambs, sheep, calves and oxen, the noise and bleating of which, with the confusion of tongues, made the place appear like anything else than the Temple of Jehovah. It appears like desecration to use the Temple thus, dear father, and seems to show a want of that holy love of God's house that once characterized our ancestors. On reaching the women's court I was sensible of being in the Temple, by the magnificence which surrounded me. With what awe I bowed my head in the direction of the Holy of Holies! I never felt before so near to God! Clouds of incense floated above the heads of the multitude, and rivers of blood flowed down the marble steps of the altar of burnt offering.

Alas! how many innocent victims bleed every morning and evening for the sins of Israel! What a sea of blood has been poured out in ages that have passed! What a strange, fearful mystery, that the blood of an innocent lamb should atone for sins I have done! There must be some deeper meaning in these sacrifices, dear father, yet unrevealed to us.

As I was returning from the Temple I met many persons, who seemed to be crowding out of the gate on some unusual errand. I have since learned that they were going to see a very extraordinary man—a true prophet of God, it is believed by many, who dwells in the wilderness eastward near Jordan, and who preaches with power unknown in the land since the days of Elijah and Elisha. I hope he is a true prophet of heaven, and that God is once more about to remember Israel, but the days of the Prophets have long passed away, and I fear this man is only an enthusiast.

Farewell, dear father, and let us ever pray for the glory of Israel.

Your affectionate,

Adina.

LETTER II.

My Dear Father:

The street in which we dwell is elevated, and from the roof of the house, where I love to walk in the evening, watching the stars that hang over Egypt, there is commanded a wide prospect of the Holy City.

Yesterday morning I was early on the house-top, to behold the first cloud of the day-dawn sacrifice rise from the bosom of the Temple. When I had turned my gaze towards the sacred summit, I was awed by the profound silence which reigned over the vast pile that crowned Mount Moriah. The sun was not yet risen; but the east blushed with a roseate purple, and the morning star was melting into its depth. Night and silence still held united empire over the city and the altar of God. I was awe-silent. I stood with my hands crossed upon my bosom and my head reverently bowed, for in the absence of man and his voice I believed angels were all around in heavenly hosts, the guardian armies of this wondrous city of David. Lances of light now shot upward and across the purple sea in the East, and fleeces of clouds, that reposed upon it like barks, catching the red rays of the yet unrisen sun, blazed like burning ships. Each moment the darkness fled, and the splendor of the dawn increased; and when I expected to see the sun appear over the battlemented heights of Mount Moriah, I was thrilled by

the startling peal of the trumpets of the[Pg 3] priests; a thousand silver trumpets blown at once from the walls of the Temple, and shaking the very foundations of the city with their mighty voice. Instantly the house-tops everywhere around were alive with worshipers. Jerusalem started, as one man, from its slumbers, and, with their faces towards the Temple, a hundred thousand men of Israel stood waiting. A second trumpet peal, clear and musical as the voice of God when he spake to our father Moses in Horeb, caused every knee to bend, and every tongue to join in the morning song of praise. The murmur of voices was like the continuous roll of the surge upon the beach, and the walls of the lofty Temple echoed it back. Simultaneously with the billow-like swell of the adoring hymn, I beheld a pillar of black smoke ascend from the midst of the Temple, and spread itself above the court like a canopy. It was accompanied by a blue wreath of lighter and more misty appearance, which threaded in and out and entwined about the other, like a silvery strand woven into a sable cord. This latter was

the smoke of the incense which accompanied the burnt sacrifice. As I saw it rise higher and higher, and finally overtop the heavy cloud, which was instantly enlarged by volumes of dense smoke that rolled upward from the consuming victim, and slowly disappeared, melting into heaven, I also kneeled, remembering that on the wings of the incense went up the prayers of the people; and ere it dissolved wholly, I entrusted to it, dear father, prayers for thee and me.

The evening sacrifice is, if possible, more imposing than that of the morning. Just as the sun dips beyond the hill of Gibeah, there is heard a prolonged note of a trumpet blown from one of the western watch-towers of Zion. Its mellow tones reach farthest ear within the gates of the city. All labor at once ceases. Every man raises his face towards the summit of the house of God. A deep pause, as if all held their breath in expectation, succeeds. Suddenly the very skies seem to be riven and shaken with the thunder of the company of trumpeters that rolls wave on wave of sound, from the battlements of the Temple. The dark cloud of sacrifice ascends in solemn grandeur, and, sometimes heavier than the evening air, falls like a descending curtain around the Mount, till the whole is veiled from sight; but above it is seen to soar the purer incense to the invisible Jehovah, followed by a myriad eyes, and the utterance of a nation's prayers. As the daylight faded, the light of the altar, hidden from us by the lofty walls of the outer court of the Temple, blazed high

and beacon-like, and lent a wild solemnity to the towers and pinnacles that crowned Moriah.

There was, however, my dear father, last evening, one thing which painfully marred the holy character of the sacred hour. After the blast of the silver trumpets of the Levites had ceased, and while all hearts and eyes were ascending to Jehovah with the mounting wreaths of incense, there came from the Roman castle adjoining the city of David, a loud martial clangor of brazen bugles, and other barbarian war instruments of music, while a smoke, like the smoke of sacrifice, rose from the heights of David's fortified hill. I was told that it was the Romans engaged in worshiping Jupiter. Alas! How truly now are the prophecies fulfilled, which are to be found in the Lamentations: "The Lord hath cast off his altar, he hath given up into the hands of the enemy the walls of her palaces: they have[Pg 4] made a noise in the house of the Lord, as in the day of a solemn feast." For these things I weep, my dear father.

Nearly three hundred years have passed since we have had a prophet—that divine and youthful Malachi. Since his day, Rabbi Amos confesses that Jehovah has made no sign of having heard the prayers or heeded the sacrifices that have been offered to him in his time. I inquired of the intelligent Rabbi if it would always be thus. He replied that when Shiloh came, there would be a restoration of all things—that the glory of Jerusalem then would fill the whole earth with the splendor of the sun, and that all nations should come up from the ends of the world to worship in the Temple.

My conversation with Rabbi Amos, dear father, led me to examine the Book of the Prophet Malachi. I find that after plainly alluding to our present shame, and reproaching the priests "for causing the people to stumble," he thus prophesies: "Behold, I will send my messenger, and he shall prepare the way before me; and the Lord whom ye seek shall suddenly come to his Temple, and he shall sit as a refiner and purifier of silver, and he shall purify the sons of Levi, and purge them as gold and silver, that they may offer unto the Lord an offering in righteousness. Behold," adds the divine seer, "I will send you Elijah the prophet before the coming of the great and dreadful day of the Lord."

These words I read to-day to Rabbi Amos—indeed I was reading them when Rabbi Ben Israel came in to say that he departs to-morrow. The excellent Amos looked grave. I feared I had offended him by my boldness, and, approaching him, was about to embrace him, when I saw tears were sparkling in his eyes. He took my hand, and smiling, while a glittering drop danced down his snow-white beard and broke into liquid diamonds upon my hand, he said, "You have done no wrong, child; sit down by me and be at peace with thyself. It is too true, in this day, what the Prophet Malachi writeth, O Ben Israel," he said sadly to the Alexandrian Rabbi. "The priests of the Temple have indeed become corrupt, save a few here and there. It must have been at this day the prophet aimed his words. Save in the outward form, I fear the great body of our Levites have little more true religion and just knowledge of the one God Jehovah, than the priests of the Roman idolatry. Alas, I fear me, God regards our sacrifices with no more favor than he looks upon theirs. To-day, while I was in the Temple,

and was serving at the altar with the priests, these words of Isaiah came into my thoughts and would not be put aside: 'To what purpose is the multitude of your sacrifices unto me? saith the Lord. I am full of the burnt offerings of rams, and the fat of fed beasts; and I delight not in the blood of bullocks, or of lambs, or of he-goats. Bring no more vain oblations; incense is an abomination unto me; I am weary to bear them; yea, when ye spread forth your hands I will hide mine eyes from you; yea, when ye make many prayers I will not hear; your hands are full of blood. Wash you; make you clean. Cease to do evil; learn to do well.'"

"I have noticed," said Ben Israel, "that there is less reverence now in the Temple than when I was in Jerusalem a young man; but I find that the magnificence of the ceremonies is increased."

"Yes," responded Rabbi Amos, with a look of sorrow, "yes, as the soul of piety dies out from within, they gild the outside. The increased richness of the worship is copied from the Romans. So low are we fallen! Our worship, with all its gorgeousness, is as a sepulchre white-washed to conceal the rottenness within!"

You may be convinced, my dear father, that this confession, from such a source, deeply humbled me. If, then, we are not worshiping God, what do we worship? Naught! We are worse off than our barbarian conquerors, for we have no God; while they at least have gods many and lords many, such as they are.

Since writing the last line I have been interrupted by Mary, who has brought to see me a youth, nephew of a noble Jewish ruler, who was slain by the Romans for his patriotic devotion to his country. He dwells near the Gaza gate, with his widowed mother, who is a noble lady, honored by all. Between this young man, whose name is John, and Mary, there exists a beautiful attachment, which is each day ripening into the deepest emotion. He has just returned from the vicinity of Jericho, where he has been for some days past, drawn thither by curiosity to see and hear the new prophet, who is drawing thousands into the wilderness, to listen to the eloquence that flows from his mouth. The young man had been giving Mary so interesting an account of him that she desired me also to be a listener.[Pg 5] In my next I will write you all I heard.

Your affectionate and devoted daughter,

Adina.

LETTER III.

My Dear Father: