The oldest nation on the globe sends her greeting to her youngest sister. The "Setting Sun" has shed its last rays on the Old World from Egypt's sunny land and now appears on this western shore as a brilliant "Rising Sun". In the metropolis of the Western Hemisphere one of Egypt's grandest treasures meets our eyes and, though silent, reminds us of her former greatness. Here stands a monument of two of her greatest Pharaohs, lords and conquerors, scourges of their people, and a terror to their foes. It tells the story of serfs and teems with cringing words and the praise of despots. Yet it was a glorious time when this monument was erected and inscribed, a time of power, pride, learning, greatness, conquest for the lords, but for the people a time of abject subjection, misery, and hardships. Pharaoh was master of all. But the sun of his grandeur has set and vanished, and our obelisk, that proud monument of Pharaonic times, now sees a spectacle which the greatest flight of fancy could not have pictured to any man of those by-gone days.

Here in the western land the obsequious adoration of one man is no more. Here the people are not under the lash and miserable; they are, with all their cares and labors, a happy and contented people. The realm is not, as in those former days, the result of a despot's triumphant march, but a grand, harmonious union of friends.

On such a picture our obelisk looks down from its lofty pedestal. Had it a tongue, it could tell us many a tale of the past, when Thothmes III. erected it with pomp and festivities, when Ramses II. engraved his name upon it, and the law-giver Moses, the Israelite, played and studied in its view, how it escaped the fury of the demoniac ravager Cambyses, was transported by the Romans to Alexandria, escaped Mohammedan fanaticism, and was at last conveyed as a precious prize from its sunny home to our fitful climate. It seems oddly out of place here, and its coat of paraffine will not protect it wholly from bleak winds and rain, and winter's ice and snow. It has lived its longest time on earth, and at the advanced age of thirty-four centuries it must decline, until it will totter and fall. Then having so long symbolized the "Rising Sun" in all its beauty, and having greeted its glorious advent with every dawn and break of day, the "Setting Sun" will shroud it for the last time in its light, but the new sun of morning will seek its old friend in vain. It will fade away, but its memory will last much longer than inscriptions on stone which must perish sooner or later. Let us, however, the children of a new era, learn from it the greatness of its authors!