Earlier text: Sowing for ReapingHuss at Constance.
By S. N. H.
Huss was not inactive during his imprisonment and trial. His letters, which were numerous, written at this time, breathed the same spirit of those of Paul when a prisoner at Rome. He writes to John de Chlum, “The Lord delivered Jonah from the whale’s belly, Daniel from the lions’ den, the three men from the fiery furnace, and he can deliver me too if it please him, for the glory of his name and the preaching of his word; but if the death comes which is precious in the eyes of the Lord, then let the name of the Lord be praised.” To another he writes, “And by the grace of God my return to Prague is a thing not impossible still I have no desire for it unless it be according to the will of God in Heaven.” Huss was ever cheered and sustained by a kind of prophetic consciousness that whatever might happen to himself, truth would go on revealing itself ever more gloriously and mightily, and eventually triumph. He writes, “I hope that what I have spoken in secret will be proclaimed on the house-tops.” One night he dreamed that the enemies had destroyed all the pictures of Christ on the walls of Bethlehem chapel. The next day he beheld many painters who were busy drawing more numerous and more beautiful pictures than those which had been defaced. As he gazed with rapture, the painters seemed to say, “Now let the bishops and priests come and destroy these pictures;” and as the multitude of the people rejoiced over it, he rejoiced with them, and amidst the laughter he awoke. He wrote to his friends the dream and was invited in return to interpret it. Some suggested to him that he should not put too much stress upon dreams; but Huss in reply said, “Though the goose is now brought down by sickness, and may next be laid as a sacrifice on the altar, yet will she hereafter laugh, and hold them in derision who are destroyers of Christ’s image.” Huss returns a cheery answer to his friend whom he styles the doctor of Biberach. He says, “I have the hope that the life of Christ will be better transcribed by a greater number of better preachers than I am, to the joy of the people who love the life of Christ.” For many years after the removal of Huss, preachers of like faith and spirit occupied the pulpit of Bethlehem chapel. Two centuries later, Bethlehem chapel was still standing with the very pulpit in which Huss had preached. On the right hand of the pulpit was the picture of Jerome bound to the stake. In the center appeared Huss, the flames kindling around him, while his bed, books, etc., are cast into the fire. On the left is another picture of Huss, with the executioner pouring blazing oil upon his head. The chapel is not now in existence. No effort was spared by Huss to secure his coveted audience before the whole council, with freedom to make a full statement and defense of his position. But this he never had the privilege of doing. His enemies feared the influence of his eloquence. And it is probable that with the class of hearers that was before him, could he have had the privilege of defending himself, the council would not have condemned him. There were ten noblemen of Bohemia, and the principal nobles of Moravia, who wrote to the emperor protesting against the execution of Huss. But Sigismund had not even the moral courage of Pilato when he openly declared the innocence of the Saviour. The influence thus brought to bear upon the emperor, although it had an effect, was not sufficient to enable him to publicly make an effort to rescue the reformer. It is evident that Huss never fully embraced the doctrine of justification by faith as Luther did. He writes to his church at Prague, at this time, “I commend you to the merciful Lord Jesus Christ, our true God, and to the Son of the immaculate virgin Mary, who has redeemed us by his most bitter death, without all our merits, from eternal pains, from the thralldom of the devil, and from sin.” The members of the council instinctively felt that Huss was not one of them; that although claiming to belong to the church which they constituted, he had in fact abandoned it, and renounced its authority. The two leading principles which he had embraced were subversive of their whole jurisdiction in both its branches, spiritual and temporal. The first and great authority with him was the Holy Scriptures; this struck at the foundation of the hierarchy; and as regards their temporal power, he undermined it by his doctrine touching ecclesiastical revenues and possessions. From these two positions neither sophistry nor threats could make him swerve. In the judgment of the council he was in rebellion. He had transferred his allegiance from the church to God, speaking through his word. This was his great crime. It mattered little in the eyes of the assembled Fathers that he still shared in some of their common beliefs; he had broken the great bond of submission; he had become the worst of all heretics; he had rent from his conscience the shackles of infallibility; and he must needs, in process of time, become a more avowed and dangerous heretic than he was at that moment, and accordingly the mind of the council was made up, John Huss must meet the doom of the heretic. When the council arose, Huss was led out by his armed escort, and conducted back to prison. His trusty friend, John de Chlum, followed him, and, embracing him, bade him be of good cheer. “Oh, what a consolation to me, in the midst of my trials,” said Huss in one of his letters, “to see that excellent nobleman, John de Chlum, stretch out the hand to me, miserable heretic, languishing in chains, and already condemned by every one.” Finally the crisis of the reformer’s career was reached. This was between the second and third, or last time, he appeared before the council. No effort was spared on the part of the emperor and others to get him to abjure his faith. At last the matter was brought to this point, would he submit himself to the council? “If the council should tell you that you have but one eye, you would be obliged to agree with the council.” “But as long as God keeps me in my senses I would not say such a thing, even though the whole world should require it; because I could not say it without wounding my conscience,” was Huss’s reply. This was as if the Fathers had said, “We shall say nothing of heresy, we specify no errors, only submit yourself implicitly to our authority as an infallible council. Burn this grain of incense on the altar in testimony of our corporate divinity. That is asking no great matter, surely.” How many would have yielded? How many have yielded under similar circumstances and been lost! Had Huss bowed his head before that body of infallibility, he could never have lifted it up again before his own conscience, before his own countrymen, before his own Saviour. Like Samson, he would have been shorn of his strength. He would have escaped the stake which gave momentary suffering, but he would have missed the immortal crown that awaits the faithful. From that moment Huss had peace, deeper than he had ever before experienced. He writes to a friend, “I write this letter in prison, with my fettered hand, expecting my sentence of death to-morrow. . . . When with the assistance of Jesus Christ we shall meet again in the delicious peace of the future life, you will learn how mercifully God has shown himself towards me, how effectually he has supported me in my temptations and trials.” WORK ON.
By Henry S. Washburn
Dream not of ease; care not for age; Fill up life's yet unwritten page With manly purposes and deeds, He liveth best, who most succeeds In doing his Creator's will,— In following the Master still. He giveth his beloved rest; This is the portion of the blest. How soon or late that rest may be Is not revealed to you or me; Nor doth it matter, if at even It only is the rest of Heaven. Liverpool, England.
By Geo. R. Drew
Although I have not reported lately, it is not because we have done nothing. During January, February, and March, we sold $300 worth (163,000 pages) of books, etc., to ships going to various parts of the world, and lately we have learned that some of these publications have fallen into the hands of missionaries in the places where the ships have gone. We receive many letters expressing gratitude for the truth. Lately a Russian-Finland officer has so far embraced the truth as to make up his mind to give his time to the work as soon as he reaches Finland, which, it is expected, will be in about two and a half months. He is a noble soul and a good Bible Christian. He has visited us five times at our house, and I feel confident that the Lord will use him. The mission work is very interesting, and our publications in a very short time encircle the world. Persons who have bought books in San Francisco have come to us and bought more. I would mention particularly the case of the captain and chief officer of the ship Gil Roy, of Dundee. The captain bought “Thoughts on Daniel and the Revelation” at San Francisco, and some other reading matter was given him; he had carefully read it all, and was hungering for more. He said he was convinced on the Sabbath question and wanted to know more how the change was effected. We sold him the “Sanctuary,” “Man’s Nature and Destiny,” “Life of Paul,” Vol. 4 “Great Controversy,” “History of the Sabbath,” and five pamphlets. We also sold to his chief officer, “Thoughts on Daniel and the Revelation,” “Sanctuary,” and “The Way of Life.” I have been to the most important ports in the world, but never have I seen one equal to Liverpool. Three men could be employed here on ships alone, and our publications are highly respected. During the first three months of the present year we put on board ships, 9,000 copies of SIGNS, Review, and Instructor, besides a large supply of Good Health, and have obtained several subscribers for Good Health and Present Truth. A sister from Switzerland is working in the city, from house to house. Our hearts are filled with gratitude to God that war has been averted, and that peace is assured for a little while longer. We know that it cannot be long, but we pray that the angels may indeed hold the winds till the servants of God are sealed, and may the Lord’s people be aroused to the importance of doing the work while there is peace. “Work while it is called to-day, for the night cometh when no man can work.” We are much pleased with the SIGNS every week. It is universally liked here, and finds a welcome everywhere. If some of our dear California friends would send us some of Elder E. J. Waggoner’s “Bible-readings,” we could use them to double advantage,—we could sell them, and with the proceeds buy tracts for distribution. I always find that what people pay for they think more of than if it be given to them in a casual way. May the Lord bless the cause throughout the wide world. New Orleans Mission.
By H. W. Cottrell
The idea of our leading brethren in starting this mission at the time they did, was to improve the advantage to be gained at the World's Exposition, of giving our literature a world-wide circulation. In this I think I can report that their plans have been fully met. Many persons from the Old World have received reading matter, even a prince of Poland. But it has been much more extensively circulated over the Southern States, the result of which the Judgment day will reveal. As a result of Bible-readings, there are twenty-three rejoicing in the truth, and several others interested. May the Lord continue to bless these dear souls and the work in this city, is my prayer. The Exposition is now numbered with the things of the past; but not so with this mission. It is to be sustained, and I believe it will be, until all things earthly are no more. As we now return to Ohio, to assist in the work there, Brother G. K. Owen remains to take charge of the good cause here. May the Lord bless and sustain him. The post-office address of the mission is No. 1270 St. Charles Street. H. W. COTTRELL. St. Louis Mission.
By Joseph Clarke
BROTHER N. W. ALLEE, who had charge of this mission during the past year, was obliged to relinquish it on account of failing health. During his stay here, much was done, and some embraced the truth. Our periodicals have been placed on the passenger boats, and the hotels have also been supplied with first-class reading matter. Some books have been sold, and subscriptions for our periodicals taken. About the middle of April, myself and wife were invited to take charge of the mission, to relieve Brother Allee. Sisters A. Reaves and E. Neal have volunteered to assist in the work. Our visits to the steam-boats are well received, and the SIGNS which we leave on about thirty passenger steamers are being read till they are worn out. The officers accept them with gratitude. St. Louis has about 400,000 inhabitants, and so situated that reading matter placed on steam-boats here may find readers all the way up and down the Mississippi, up the Missouri, and up the Ohio rivers, with their large tributaries, and so can reach people from a large part of the Union. May the Lord prosper the work. JOSEPH CLARKE. THIS fleet now includes the John Williams in the South Seas; the Ellangowan and the Mayri at New Guinea; the Good News and the Morning Star of the London Society on Lake Tanganyika; the Peace of the Baptist Society on the Congo; the Day Spring of the Free Church at New Hebrides; the Henry Wright on the south coast of Africa; the Ilala on Lake Nyassa; the John Brown of the Mendi Mission of the Moravians; the Morning Star of the American Board in the Pacific Seas; and the David Williamson at Old Calabar. This is not a complete list. There remains to note, for example, a steamer provided by the late Mr. Thomas Coats, of Ferguslie, for the African mission founded by Alfred Saker.—Christian at Work. The Waldensian Valleys.
By Anna D. Atkinson
I HAVE been asked to give a short account of a visit to these famous valleys. The history of the Waldensian Church is well known, so I will confine my remarks to what I saw and heard during my two days’ visit to this interesting land, that has been consecrated by the blood of martyrs, and has brought forth so much fruit to the praise and glory of God. We (for I was one of a party of four) were most hospitably entertained by Madame Beckwith, widow of the great benefactor of the Vaudois. What struck me very much was the beautiful simplicity manifested in the self-denying lives of the pastors and professors. It is evident that to them “to live is Christ.” Their work, whether in preaching the gospel, teaching the young, or training the youths for the ministry, is the great object of their lives. The Orphanage is a model of what such an institution should be. The perfect order and cleanliness of the large, airy rooms, and the happy looks of the children, who sang two or three hymns very sweetly to us, testified that the Father of the fatherless had sealed with his blessing this refuge and provision for the orphans of the valleys. Of the hospital we saw sufficient to convince us that the sick and suffering are tenderly cared for. Perhaps nothing interested us more than our visit to the training college. Here the young men, some almost boys, are well instructed in general knowledge and the necessary branches of a good sound education, including the Scriptures in the original. Above all, they are rooted and grounded in their most holy faith; taught the truths and doctrines of the Bible, so that they may be able to impart them to others, and also that it is a privilege to be set apart by God himself for the ministry of the word. This institution is, obviously, second to none in importance, for were the supply of pastors to fail, who would feed the flock in the valleys? There is a burden now resting upon this ancient church in the shape of a heavy debt upon the training college. Little or nothing can be given by the people themselves. A subscription list has been opened, to which it was our privilege to add our names. Limited space forbids my dwelling upon our visit to one of the romantic little parishes upon the mountain side, or to the delightful meeting convened by our kind hostess the evening before we left, when between thirty and forty, including pastors, professors, students, and girls from the Superior School, were invited to meet us. We sang the praises of Him who had made us one by the blood of the cross, and we knelt at his footstool as one family, redeemed from among men, and fellow-heirs of the kingdom, where we shall be “glorified together.”—Anna D. Atkinson, in the Missionary. Making Enemies Versus Standing Firm for Duty
“No MAN is worth his salt who makes no enemies,” is a common saying in which there is an element of truth. No man is worth that name who lets himself be prevented from doing what he knows to be his duty by the fear that others will object, and perhaps even will hate him. But it is not necessary to incur enmity as often as some suppose. He who clearly is determined to do right at all hazards, yet who evidently takes pains to be considerate of others, thwarts their plans as little as possible, and shows a gentle spirit, even when most firmly insisting upon his own course—he may even retain the friendship, as he surely will keep the respect, of the very persons whom he opposes. It is as discreditable to make enemies needlessly as it is to shrink from thorough loyalty to truth and duty for fear of making them; and he who by rude and evil behavior causes others to dislike him and then comforts himself with the notion that it is merely because he is right and they wrong, makes one of the worst of errors.—Congregationalist. It had been an unusually busy day with Mr. Archer, of Archer, Ames & Co. As a rule, he, as senior member of a wealthy firm, was spared most of the business details, and his life, though by no means an idle one, was not crowded with care; but as he climbed the steps of his brownstone mansion, at the same time feeling for his pass-key, there was a worried look upon his face, which did not escape his wife's eyes. “I have not seen you look so tired in a long time. Has anything happened?” she asked, as soon as the servants had left them alone. “Yes, I have decided to turn off one of our clerks. He has not been with us long—not over a year; but it is the first time one of our fellows has disgraced himself, and it has upset me. Then they've elected me as one of the trustees of that new Home for Disabled Clerks, and I had to attend a meeting to-day. The fact of the matter is I can't think how such a fine fellow as Clark could have done it.” “Oh, didn't I tell you? Come to the office drunk. Not a little under the influence of liquor, but drunk.” “And he was always steady?” “Perfectly so, since I met him. He came well recommended, and gave good satisfaction; so good that we were thinking of raising his salary.” “Anywhere between thirty and forty.” “I don't know—yes, come to think of it, he is, for he lost a child awhile ago.” Mrs. Archer had her own notions of the relations between employers and employed, but her husband, when she hinted at them, always told her they were most unbusiness-like. “Never let business and charity interfere,” he would say, “I am always glad to aid any good cause, to help any struggling man or woman, but it must be outside of business. My clerks are mere machines to me; if they run well, I retain them; if not, they go.” Yet, being a warm-hearted man, Mr. Archer was not quite consistent, and it grieved him deeply to turn away a clerk in disgrace. “A quick fellow. Such a good correspondent! Isn't one in the office writes a hand like he!” he kept muttering, as he sat sipping his coffee and peeling fruit for his wife. The front door-bell rang just as Mr. Archer was refusing a second cup of coffee, and John announced, “A lady on business, sir.” “Ask her name, John; I am tired, and unless it is something important, I shall see no one.” “Mrs. Clark, and she dislikes troubling you, but the matter is important.” “His wife!” exclaimed Mrs. Archer, while her husband frowned almost angrily. “Let her come in here, dear. She may not have come to tease you, only to explain. Don't send her off without a hearing. Do you mind my being in the next room while you see her?” “No, indeed; and if you were not so soft-hearted, I would engage you to come in at the right moment to send her off. I can't stand a woman's tears.” Then stepping to the door, Mr. Archer added, “Show the lady in here, John.” A moment more, and a young woman came in. Her dress was most severely simple, but it was such as only a lady would have devised, and her manner, though nervous, was of one accustomed to move among cultivated people. “I beg pardon, Mr. Archer, for calling at this hour, but I could not wait through a long night.” The voice was so sweet and low, and the eyes that were raised to his so full of patient endurance and quiet determination, that Mr. Archer said to himself, “Confound the fellow! How could he do it with such a wife?” But he was not a man of ready speech, and, though feeling more kindly to his guest, did not say a word to help her on. “My husband will not explain matters to you; he thinks you might fancy he was excusing himself, and he and I both know that no man has any real excuse, though”—her voice broke a little, but she recovered herself, and began again. “I will tell you the exact truth—the story of our married life, though I hardly hope that it will make any difference to us, it may be the means of your saving others; at least, I have felt impelled to come and tell it. We were very happy the first year or two; but my husband, through the failure of the firm he was with, lost his position. He was offered another clerkship, but a relative of mine was willing to take him into business as a partner, and it was tempting—he accepted. This relative was unmarried; and after six months, tiring of the business, he sold out; and as affairs had been carelessly arranged with my husband, he was again cast loose without any means of support. I believe that he then began to drink—not much, but I never suspected it; only enough to ‘give him courage,’ as he said afterward.” “I will not weary you with an account of the next three years. It was in the panic times, and better men than he had nothing to do. He was often from morning to night without food, and when a friend would ask him to step in and take a drink, I cannot wonder that he, little suspecting danger, would accept. As he has said since, many a friend will offer a man a glass, but not one in ten will ask him to lunch. The habit of drinking grew upon him, till when he did get a position he could not keep it. He sank very low. Not that he drank hard, but liquor made him unfit for business, and affected him very quickly. He had been out of business six months when a friend of ours told him that he could get him a position in your office if he would solemnly swear not to touch liquor. He had been so steady for some months that I felt sure, with encouragement, he would be a changed man.” “He was accepted by the firm just about a year ago. I remember so well my anxiety that night; for our friend had told us that the last correspondent had eighteen hundred a year, and I felt that if he could be raised above real anxiety, he would be so much safer. He came home very happy, for he was accepted. His salary was one thousand dollars; but he felt sure, if he did his best, he would soon have it increased. He was very happy and hopeful, and though I knew that we had debts that must be paid at once, and that we could no longer live with our relatives, I tried to keep up a brave heart.” “I am sure you did,” Mr. Archer said, involuntarily, and his kind tones encouraged the wife to go on with her story. “You see my husband was always so generous when he had money—so hopeful that he would have more—that though he brought me all his salary, only paying for his monthly commutation ticket, and reserving ten cents a day for his lunch, I found it a very hard matter to pay rent and keep the house on his salary, besides trying to pay the debts that now began to trouble him. We had four children”—the mother's voice would break in spite of her strong will, but she kept the tears back—“perhaps you know that we buried our little six-year-old a year ago? The eldest had to be sent to a good school, for our children will have a better position by and by, and must be fitted for it. Still, even though we had great anxiety and struggles, if we had been fortunate in choosing our home in a healthy place, I think all might have been well. Unfortunately, we were tempted by the cheap rents to hire in a little village in Jersey. They assured us chills were unknown there, but at the end of three months we were all ill. The doctor's bills and the quinine crushed us, Mr. Archer.” “My husband went to business, time and again, sick with malarial fever. He gave entire satisfaction, for more work was piled upon him—he wrote such a good hand; but no hint was given him of raising his salary. He says it is a mere matter of business—that the firm never knows how many children a man has, nor whether he can live on his salary. If he can't, they can get one who can.” “At last the fever got such a hold of our little Robbie that he died. I had lost all fear of my husband's drinking, for he had gone again and again to business, distressed and half sick, and had not tasted a drop; so I thought him cured. But he told me to-day that ever since Robbie went he has been tempted. He has felt so discouraged, so hopeless. This morning an old comrade met him. He was weak and depressed—he had given up hope of getting out of debt and educating his children properly, and he took the offered drink!” Here the poor tired wife burst into tears. In a moment Mrs. Archer was by her side, soothing her with loving words, and promising a hundred possible things, talking between whiles to her husband, who sat conscience-stricken, unable to defend himself against her indignation. “This is what comes of keeping business and benevolence apart. This comes of looking upon your employees as mere machines. If the poor fellow had been in one of the institutions you uphold, his family would have been helped, and he would have been carefully guarded and guided. But here is a man who tries to retrieve himself; who, run down, and living in an unhealthy atmosphere, needed for his salvation an adequate income, and you hardly knew he was a married man! Henry, Henry! who was it asked God scornfully, ‘Am I my brother's keeper?’” By this time Mrs. Clark had grown composed, and was listening in undisguised astonishment, and even horror, to her new champion. She had had the same thoughts, but such things could not be said. “O Mrs. Archer,” she said hurriedly, “my husband has said again and again there is not a firm in the city that is more noted for its large donations—” “Donations!” put in Mrs. Archer impatiently. “And if a clerk is ill, his place is kept for him, and his salary goes on.” “To be sure it does; that is mere decent treatment. Every well-to-do house does that, my dear Mrs. Clark. What I complain of is that so many men and women who are good and kind and generous, like Mr. Archer, yet employ men and women without taking any interest in their lives, without feeling that, as children of a common Father, as fellow-pilgrims in a better home, we must take a warm personal interest in those whom we employ.” “How many ladies know the private history of their servants, take an interest in the mother in the old country, or the brother who has been a little wild, but who is trying to mend, and ought to be invited to Mary's warm kitchen, evenings,365 and so kept from bad companions? And with gentlemen it is even worse; for their clerks are educated gentlemen like themselves, sometimes better educated than themselves; and yet the heads of a firm seldom or ever care whether their clerks are able to educate their children, or can afford to save a delicate wife by giving her change of air and rest from anxiety.” “It is very true,” said Mr. Archer, slowly; “and for my part, whatever Ames or Hancock may think of it, things must be looked after down at the office. I will see your husband myself, to-morrow,” he added, taking Mrs. Clark's hand in his, “and I ask you to forgive a fellow-sinner—a fellow-Christian. Let Clark be at his desk as usual, and now that we do know one of our clerk's wives, we mean to keep up the acquaintance, don't we, wife?” “Indeed we do! But Mrs. Clark has come all the way from Jersey, and I don't believe she's dined!” There was a ringing of bells and hurried orders, and soon Mrs. Clark was seated between her new friends, who had to play at eating a second dinner to keep her in countenance. Then Mr. Archer, tired as he was, decided he would go out to the little Jersey home that very night, and have a talk with Mr. Clark. Mrs. Archer could see by the happy look in the wife's eyes that that was just what she most wanted. So the carriage was ordered, and soon the brave woman who had mounted those steps two hours before with such fear, was running lightly down, sure that she was carrying a true friend to her husband, who would help him to lead a new life. What passed between the wealthy merchant and his wife that night is only known to them; but there were mutual confessions; both felt humbled and penitent, and the morrow began a new life with each. We need not follow them further. Would that this story, founded on fact, might arouse other noble men to a sense of their duty—to an acknowledgment that they are their brothers' keepers, under God.—Christian Weekly. The Home Circle.
By Paul Gerhardt
Why art thou full of anxious fear,
How thou shalt be sustained and fed?
He who hath made and placed thee here
Will give thee needful daily bread.
Canst thou not trust His rich and bounteous hand,
Who feeds all living things on sea and land?
Be thou content. He who doth teach the little birds
To find their meat in field and wood,
Who gives the countless flocks and herds,
Each day, their needful drink and food,
Thy hunger, too, will surely satisfy,
And all thy wants in His good time supply.
Be thou content.
—Paul Gerhardt, 1670. Health and Temperance.
By Helen Campbell
In the conflicting theories of temperance agitators, and the hot disputes of prohibitionists and non-prohibitionists, essential facts at times slip out of sight. With an evil so enormous there seems to be no remedy save in striking at the root—the root being taken to be always the existence of facilities for obtaining the stimulant. The desire for such stimulant is regarded by a large proportion of workers in this field as only another manifestation of that total depravity of mankind which can find no salvation save in, first, the grace of God, and, second, the abolition of the saloon. For some of more ardent faith, the man who swears off, if honest and believing, is proof against even the saloon, conversion having rendered temptation innocuous; and now and then a case occurs which seems to bear out this theory. But for the most part it is understood that indulgence has created a craving, excited often to madness by the sight or smell of liquor, and that one of the first essentials in common-sense work is to remove temptation, and thus prevent the possibility of relapse. This, and much more in the same line of thought, is all true, but it seems seldom to occur to even the most ardent worker that, though cure of an existing appetite is now the prime consideration, prevention might have taken its place. The appetite is there, and apparently an instinct; and for many this is the fact. Inheritance has given generation after generation the craving, and made perpetual battle the only safeguard against it. And so, in every home where the curse has found resting place, women are weeping and praying and planning—now indignant at the weakness and shameful fall of those for whom they pray; now melting into pity, and gathering all forces for a fresh fight and perhaps a fresh defeat. The proportion of drinkers increases, and with it the ever-increasing percentage of paupers, criminals, idiots, lunatics, made so by this liquor fiend which threatens every home, and, directly or indirectly, has power in every home. No blue ribbon bars the way so completely that admittance cannot be had; no prayer has power enough to stay the fall that may at any moment be the fate of the most earnest struggler. For one who looks for other than surface reasons it soon becomes apparent that there is some cause not yet reached, nor likely to be reached, by present methods. A little investigation shows that the drinker of the more common stimulants,—whisky, gin, or beer,—is usually in the class fed on coarse food, improperly prepared. Exactly what connection this food has with a morbid thirst is not asked. There is a general feeling that the poor man in large cities must have better lodging, better air, and better food, before he can fight his propensity successfully; but better food is taken to mean, generally, not greater variety, but meat in one form or another, in larger amount, and at every meal. What the direct effect of a preponderance of animal food may be is never asked, and the one question of diet is considered only in Inebriate Homes or under special treatment. It is known that the stomach of the confirmed drinker is weakened, and rendered almost incapable of digestion, but the restoration of power is supposed to come with signing the pledge; and that long waiting and utmost care are necessary never occurs. For the masses who must deal with intemperance there is but the smallest understanding, often none at all, of what part food plays in repressing or creating the dreaded appetite. And even the most ardent student of laws, has small faith in any laws that govern the body. Unaccountable tendencies must be beyond our own control. They are simply mysterious dispensations of Providence, and intemperance part of the general perversity of mankind, never to be accounted for by any natural cause. In the limits assigned it is impossible to go into the history of food or of national dietaries and their effects. Yet it is certain that national food has created national tendencies ever since the story of food began. The speculative and mystical tendencies of all East Indian races are the direct result of an abstinence which leaves the brain unclouded by any fumes of food. In fact, there is not substance enough in the favorite food to give full body either to life or thought, for as the dietary enlarges, thought grows with it, a varied diet proving itself essential to complex and sustained thought. But whenever the food is too strongly stimulating—and this occurs whenever meat is used too freely—there is felt at once, as the inevitable consequence, an abnormal and craving thirst. The ambition of the day-laborer in our cities is to have plenty of meat, and this is preferred as steak fried to a crisp, and swimming in fat. For the South, and much of the West, “hog and hominy” rule; the former as bacon, used three times a day, and also swimming in fat; the latter as pone, rank with saleratus. In each case there is far more heat-food than can possibly be assimilated. The result is an irritated stomach, overheated blood, and thus a drying of every tissue over which it passes, thirst being the natural consequence. True nourishment has not been given. The tissues are stimulated, but not fed. The stomach does its work as it can, sending on the half-digested mass, and ending, an hour after food has been taken, in a “gone-ness” and craving that only stimulant can satisfy. Nothing appears to soothe and quiet such cravings so well as alcohol in some form. For the Southern or Western man it is likely to be whisky, made from the corn that has already proved his enemy in one form, and now turns to a still more deadly one in another. For the city laborer there are many forms, lager beer appearing always the most innocent, because so much is required to bring about any effect, the amount of alcohol in each glass being too small to afford much sense of stimulation. But the quantity taken must always increase. All natural craving for food ceases, a glass of something to whip up the stomach and incline it to work being the first thought of the morning. So the miserable course goes on, till constant thirst, impossible to quench or satisfy, is the self-induced state of every drinking man. Whatever may be thought of stimulating the appetite of the exhausted brain-worker, for instance, by the use of a glass or so of light wine, in which there is but the smallest proportion of alcohol, it is certain that any cruder form in time destroys all susceptibility, and at last all power to work in natural ways. The effect of alcohol is shown in a passage from Dr. William Robert’s lecture on “Digestion,” in which he mentions certain facts in connection with the eating of raw oysters, a method preferable to any other, for reasons which he states as follows: “The fawn-colored mass, which is the delicious portion of the fish, is its liver, and is simply a mass of glycogen. Associated with the glycogen, but withheld from actual contact with it during life, is its appropriate digestive ferment—the hepatic diastase. The mere crushing of the oyster between the teeth brings these two bodies together, and the glycogen is at once digested without any other help than the diastase. The raw, or merely warmed, oyster is self-digestive. But the advantage of this provision is wholly lost by cooking; for the heat immediately destroys the associated ferment, and a cooked oyster has to be digested, like any other food, by the eater’s own digestive powers. “‘My dear sir, do you want to ruin your digestion?’ asked Professor Houghton, of Trinity366 College, one day, of a friend who had ordered brandy and water with his oysters in a Dublin restaurant. ‘Then he sent for a glass of brandy and a glass of Guinness’s XX, and put an oyster in each. In a very short time there lay in the bottom of the glass of brandy a tough, leathery substance resembling the finger of a kid glove, while in the porter there was hardly a trace of the oyster to be found.’” This “kid-glove” condition covers also the stomach steeped in alcohol, which responds more and more feebly to any demand upon its powers. Larger and larger doses become a necessity, and thus the evil effects are cumulative, and each glass a stronger reason for another. Is the pledge any sufficient guarantee against the inevitable working out of natural laws? and can any ribbon hold power enough to quiet a craving increased at every meal, and which, unless there be a struggle horrible to all who must witness it, proves master in the end? Yet it is certain that in right food is the solution of the difficulty, and that for those in whom there is inherited tendency this is the only method of suppressing the insistent desire.—Helen Campbell, in Christian Union. Commending What We Approve
If men were as ready to commend what they approve as they are to condemn what they disapprove, life would be rendered much more pleasant, and many thorns that now pierce men's hearts would never enter them.—Sel.