Earlier text: WHAT IS THE BIBLE?RESPECTABLE WHISKY SELLING.
A TEMPERANCE discussion once sprung up in a stage coach crossing the Alleghanies, and the subject was handled without gloves. One gentleman maintained a stoical silence until he could endure it no longer; then he broke out strongly, saying: "Gentlemen, I want you to understand that I am a liquor seller. I keep a public house, but I would have you to know that I have a license, and keep a decent house. I don't keep loafers and loungers about my place, and when a man has enough he can get no more at my bar. I sell to decent people, and do a respectable business." When he had delivered himself, he seemed to think that he had put a quietus on the subject, and that no answer could be given. Not so thought a Quaker, who was one of the company. Said he: "Friend, that is the most damning part of thy business. If thee would sell to drunkards and loafers, thee would help kill off the race, and society would be rid of them; but thee takes the young, the poor, the innocent, and the unsuspecting, and makes drunkards of them. And when their character and money are gone, thee kicks them out, and turns them over to other shops to be finished off; and thee ensnares others, and sends them on the same road to ruin." Surely the Quaker had the best of the argument, for he had the facts on his side. The more respectable and attractive any public house is, the greater the mischief it is able to do in any decent community.—Evangelical Messenger. A Berlin correspondent of the Nation, writing of temperance legislation in Germany, says that within the last few years dram and whisky drinking has spread with fearful rapidity among the working classes. Even in the wine-growing and beer-producing countries, alcohol is taking the place of lighter beverages, the price of wine and beer having risen considerably. Another reason for this increase of drinkers is the social position of the largest distillers of whisky. In Germany, and especially in the eastern provinces of Prussia, whisky-making is a very aristocratic business, which is carried on by the nobility and proprietors of large estates. This interest, too, is so powerful that the government does not dare to levy high taxes on the whisky trade, as in England. A few figures will show how the vice has spread. From October 1, 1869, to January 1, 1877, the number of inns in Germany rose from 42,612 to 69,305, or 11 per cent. In 1869 the percentage of inns and dram-shops to the number of inhabitants was 45.75 to 100,000, but in 1879 it had risen to 55.88. To check the growing evil the government has been led to propose a very mild and imperfect remedy, which punishes persons found drunk in public places, with a fine of $26 or two weeks' imprisonment.—Selected. Dr. Willard Parker says: "The average life of temperance people is 64 years and two months, while the average life of intemperate people is 35 years and six months. Thus the average life of a drinker is but little more than one-half that of the non-drinker; and yet we are asked to believe that brandy, whisky, gin and beer, are wonderful promoters of health, strength, and life!" Ireland’s Drink Consumption and Poverty
By Brooklyn Vidette
THE amount of beer and whisky consumed in Ireland during the last famine year exceeded forty-six millions of dollars in value, or nearly ten dollars a head for every man, woman, and child in the island. This may have nothing to do with the poverty and distress that followed the failure of the potato crop, but there are those who will entertain the opinion that a people who can spend forty-six millions a year for potations, should not put themselves in the attitude of the wards of the world. THERE was not a happier, more contented little woman than Mrs. Strong. It is true that she had not much of this world's goods, and some people might have found much to fret about in her lot; but she was one of those who thought of the bright side of that sentence, which some think the "saddest of tongue or pen"—might have been. "Why, John," she would say, "how fortunate it is father lets us have this place. As to the trouble of getting up early, so that you can take that train, I find it makes the day so nice and long for my sewing and reading. Just think what it would be to have to pay house-rent these hard times. Then it is so good to live in the country while our children are young." "Chills!" John would sometimes put in, just to test the little woman. "Now, John! Chills are bad, I'll admit, but then there's no other illness about, and I really think we are getting acclimated." Then the husband would laugh, and stretching out his tired feet to the fire, would draw his wife to his side and in his heart thank God for her contented spirit. For two years this went on; times were so hard that little Mrs. Strong lived strictly to herself, only once in a while meeting some of her old friends when she spent a day at her mother's, in the city. Sometimes she wished that she could invite them out to her country home, but always put it off, knowing, wise little woman, that "many a mickle makes a muckle," and that she must not spend anything on extras until John's salary was raised. At last, at the very time they least expected it, an increase came, and one night John said:— "Now, little girl, you must have a friend or so to spend the day with you, at least. I know it is lonesome out here. Write and ask some one at once." "Lou Fairlee and Mary Barker?" "All right. I'll see Jack Fairlee to-morrow and arrange it, so you'd best get ready." The next evening word came that the ladies would come out on the morning train and stay till evening—an all-night visit could not come off just then. How the little woman flew about the house putting finishing touches here and there. Willie and Rob helped, and Dick hindered—as usual. The boys were principally interested in the unwonted display of cake which graced the sideboard. "Now I do hope they wont disappoint us; in ten minutes they'll be here." And the mother sank into a rocking-chair with a delightful sense of order and cleanliness about her; were not the boys as perfectly clean as if just ready for bed? "If they don't come we can eat all the cake, can't we?" said Rob, while Dick listened breathlessly for the answer. "No; if they come you can have your share, but if they don't come we'll keep it till to-morrow. There's the whistle; run, boys, to the station." "I'll just make sure the boys haven't upset my room," thought the mother, who had not nine years' experience with boys for nothing. As she opened the bed-room door what a scene of perfect confusion met her eyes. The children had dressed in mamma's room, as they found their own pretty cold, and their everyday clothes lay in heaps on the floor; the toilet arrangements were all in disorder, while Dick's dollie, as dirty and forlorn as Toddie's, lay in state on the spotless bed quilt. The room was not half in order when Willie's voice was heard. "Come right up. Mother said you were to take your things off in her room up-stairs." Giving a fling to Dick's dolly, Mrs. Strong went forward to welcome her friends, and the usual talk followed—exclamations about the length of the trip, how they left all in the city, etc. "But aren't you very lonesome?" asked Lou thinking of the long, quiet days, with no concerts or lectures. "Yes indeed," chimed in Mary Barker, "I don't see how you stand it—you who used to be so fond of society. Do you really like this place for a home?" Now to tell the truth, the wife had never asked herself any such questions. "I don't find it very lonesome," she said. But even as she spoke her heart sank a little, and she began to see the bleak, bare country, with its winter mantle of snow, through her friend's spectacles. "If you had a horse it would be different," said Mary Barker, absently, shaking out her lace. "Oh, yes; a horse is almost a necessity in the country," assented Miss Lou. The little woman listened to it all and began to feel as if she had been very blind indeed, to her disadvantages. A diversion fortunately occurred on the announcement of lunch (Willie nearly forgot and said dinner). Mrs. Strong brightened as her friends enjoyed the home-made butter and drank the rich, country milk. "You see we have our advantages," she said, with pardonable pride; and Mary agreed, "though for her part, if she couldn't have every luxury, she preferred the city." The afternoon slipped quickly by; there were new magazines to talk about, and the latest embroidery to explain, and when at six o'clock her friends had gone, and Mrs. Strong met her husband, she assured him she had had a delightful day. Yet her husband noticed a difference in his wife at once. At first he thought it was only because the dear little woman had been too hard at work beautifying and cleaning up, but as day after day the shadow did not leave her face, though it lifted at times, he wondered "what had come over his little Nellie." Her bright ways had changed. Every time she went into the parlor, it seemed so very empty, and she heard again the question:—"How do you like this place to live in? I don't see how you possibly stand it." The boys felt the difference. Mother didn't go to skate, and though she came out and looked at their snow man, she didn't stay and snow-ball them, but went in at once to sit at the fire and think—of what? She began to forget what might have been, and to think what was, was very hard indeed. "I don't know how I've stood it," she said to herself, "there's really nothing to do here." To be sure there was that quilt she had been making for the home for the friendless, and she was only half through that last volume of essays, but—she didn't feel like it. And so she sat and thought and wished, till at last she startled her husband one day by suddenly bursting into tears. John thought the sky was falling, when his wife, who had been so brave and cheerful through such real trials, broke down in that way, "because she was lonesome." In spite of all remonstrances, he insisted that the boys should be left to the servant, and she was to spend a week in the city. "I'll tell you who'll do you a world of good—aunt Huldah!" Nellie thought, with a pang of remorse, how she had neglected the old Quaker lady; but John was sure she would be welcome, and insisted on her going into town the next morning with him. "Glad to see thee, child. To be sure I am. But thee is pale, and thee does not look so bright as of old. Thee must stay a week with me and tell me all thy troubles." "I haven't any," Nellie insisted. But aunt Huldah knew better. She took good care that Nellie had plenty of sight-seeing, and in a day or two saw with pleasure that the color was coming back to her cheeks. The last day was rainy, and aunt Huldah said they would spend it quietly together. They chatted of many things; then, after a pause, Nellie said:— "Aunt Huldah, how would you like to live in the country?" The old lady's eyes sparkled (what memories she had stored up of her happy country home), but she said:— "I don't think how much I would like it, for I must not leave this home, child. It is best not to think of the impossible." "But the country is so lonesome." Aunt Huldah's face brightened—so that was the trouble:— "Are not the boys with thee, and has not thee books, and thy husband?" "Ah, child, I see. Folks wonder how thee is content, and they wonder so that at last they break up thy content. Now, Nellie, when I was a young wife, my own dear mother gave me this rule: 'Never let anything make thee pity thyself; spend thy pity on the truly unfortunate, and, if thee is downhearted, go to work or play. Are there no poor thee can work for in thy quiet home, child, and are there no romps thee can enjoy with the lads?'" "Oh, auntie," said Nellie, "I see it now. Lou and Mary seemed so sure I was lonesome, and pitied me so much that I pitied myself." "Don't make the same mistake with thy poorer neighbors; when thee goes to see them never pity their lot—remember, sympathy is quite different from pity." That evening Nellie joined her husband, and together they reached their country home. John was so glad to get her back, and what a fuss the boys made. Never was a woman more proud and happy. No more lonesome days for Nellie Strong. If she feels any symptoms of the old dissatisfaction, she has learned how to shake them off. But are there not many young wives who have been led to discontent by the thoughtless words of their friends? Are we not all forgetful of the time when we must give an account of these very words?—Housekeeper. SHE had very bright eyes, rosy cheeks, a sweet, laughing mouth, and her name was Ellen ; but I am sorry to add, she was sometimes called "fretful Ellen." She had a great many trials. I suppose that was the reason she had become fretful so early in life. If she went to walk, it was too warm, or the wind was too cold. She found the potatoes too hot for breakfast, and mamma would not allow her to drink coffee. If she was left alone with her little brother Archie, he was certain to pull her hair or tear her book. At school she complained very often to the teacher that some one was pinching her; but the worst trial of all was brother Tom. He had a hateful red book, and every time she cried or whined he would take it out and write down something like this:— "8 A. M. Ellen cried because her boots buttoned hard." 8.30. Ellen cried because there were no sponge cakes for lunch. One day there were twenty-seven such entries, every one of which Tom read aloud at tea. You can see she had a very trying life, and things seemed to get worse as she grew older. One warm day in early summer, after an unusual number of trials, the climax was reached when she saw there were no strawberries for tea. She made every one so uncomfortable that she was sent away to stay in her own room. Ellen sat down by the window where she could look into the pleasant little yard and see the tulips and syringas. She saw some robins flying about the maple tree, and the cat crawling under the bushes looking as contented as possible. She wondered why everything looked so happy when she was so miserable. Suddenly everything in the yard seemed to change in a most astonishing manner, and the queerest looking old man, with his face puckered up into a scowl, came walking on the piazza roof toward her. 419When he spoke his voice was crosser than the crossest child's you ever heard. "How do you like my country?" he said. "I don't know," replied Ellen. "Where am I?" "In the Fretful Land," said the scowling man. "Here you will see all the cross and discontented people and things. Those tulips over there in the corner, with their heads bent down and covered with dust, did not like to bloom so early in the season, so we brought them here where nothing blooms. That rough looking robin, with his head under his wing, would not sing because his song was not as sweet as a canary's. Nothing sings here." "But what is the matter with that tree?" interrupted Ellen. "That," said the man, "that is a maple-tree that was discontented because it could not bear acorns like an oak." "What does ail that cat?" said Ellen forgetting her fright in her curiosity. "It does nothing but stand there and growl, looking as if its fur had been rubbed the wrong way." "All cats look so in the Fretful Land," said the queer man. "Would you like to see how little girls look?" Quick as wink he drew a little mirror out of his pocket and held it before her. She saw her own face so twisted up in an ugly frown that it looked like the queer man's, and try as hard as she could she could not make it straight. "Oh!" she cried, "will it always look so?" "Of course; you are in the Fretful Land now." "But I don't want to stay here," cried Ellen. "That makes no difference," said the cross voice, "it's the only place for you." Ellen started up in horror, thinking she would run away from the dreadful country. As she did so there was a great crash which made her open her eyes, to find that the cross man was gone, and she was in her own room with her chair tipped over at her feet. It was dark, and the moonbeams were stealing across the carpet. Before she could realize what had happened, her mother came in exclaiming, "What a noise! You must have fallen out of your chair. You have been sleeping so soundly that I did not like to disturb you." "I tried to get away from Fretful Land, and my chair tipped over," said Ellen, still rubbing her eyes. "You have been dreaming," said her mamma; "now you must get into bed for a nice long sleep." "Good-night mamma," said Ellen, wondering if her face looked as cross as it did in the queer man's mirror. The next day Ellen was very quiet and subdued, and Tom had only three cries in his book, and gradually there was a decided improvement in her manner. She never told any one of the Fretful Land; but I fancy she thought the more. LIVE for something, be not idle,
Look about thee for employ.
Sit not down to empty dreaming;
Labor is the sweetest joy.
Folded hands are ever weary,
Selfish hearts are never gay;
Life for thee hath many duties—
Active be, then, while you may. Scatter blessings in thy pathway.
Gentle words and cheering smiles,
Better are than gold or silver,
With their grief-dispelling wiles.
As a pleasant sunshine falleth
Ever on the grateful earth,
So let sympathy and kindness
Gladden well the darkened hearth. Hearts there are oppressed and weary,
Drop the tear of sympathy;
Whisper words of home and comfort,
Give, and thy reward shall be
Joy unto thy soul returning,
From the perfect fountain-head;
Freely as thou freely givest
Shall the grateful light be shed.
—Sel. —The United States has fifty per cent. more paper mills than any other country. —The average daily attendance in the New York city schools is 132,849. —A boy fourteen years old, of the genus hoodlum, recently murdered a Chinaman, at Tulare, Cal. —The amount of money embezzled by Capt. Howgate, of the Signal Service department, is about $400,000. —The eruption of Mauna Loa, Hawaiian Islands, is gradually subsiding, and the town of Hilo, whose destruction seemed imminent, is now considered out of danger. —A few days since a man was run over by the local train between Oakland and Alameda, and literally torn to pieces. He was lying on the track, and was not discovered until too late to stop the train. —On the 6th inst. a collision occurred on the Paris and Lyons railroad, France, whereby twenty persons were instantly killed, and many others wounded. This was the third serious accident on that road within one week. —In consequence of the great number of surgeons that have been sent to Algeria, the military medical service in Paris is very much straitened, and requests have been made through all the districts for civilian assistance. —Five women and three men, belonging to a notorious gang of robbers, were arrested in Denver, Col., recently. They are mostly from Missouri and Kansas, and are said to have blown open more than fifty safes within two years. —The papers are reporting a wonderful thing from St. Louis, Mo. That city appropriated upwards of $800,000 for her schools last year. At the close of the year the Board of Education came out with $94,000 unexpended. Such a thing is a rare occurrence. —A dispatch from Marquette, Mich., Sept. 6, says: "The powder-house exploded here and eleven men were blown to atoms. Small pieces of their bodies were found scattered about. Nothing of the building was left, and nobody was found to tell the cause of the disaster." —A singular feature of the recent Apache outbreak is that the telegraph wires were cut, and communication between Apache and Wilcox was cut off. Indians have never before ventured to tamper with the "talking wire," deeming it under the especial control of the Great Spirit. —An entire passenger train tumbled down an embankment ten feet high, near Shenandoah, Iowa, recently. Nineteen persons were injured, some of them fatally. The same day an express train ran into an accommodation train on the Baltimore and Ohio railroad. Many persons were severely scalded by the escaping steam. —The President was removed from Washington to Long Branch last week. He stood the journey remarkably well, and for a time seemed much better, but at present writing is in a critical condition. The wretch Guiteau, narrowly escaped death at the hands of one of his guards, who fired into his cell. Guiteau was terribly frightened. He is not so fond of being shot at as he is of shooting at others. —On the 7th inst. the thermometer stood above 95° in New York. Reports from Boston stated that it was the hottest day of the season. At Milford, Pa., the thermometer stood from 99° to 102°, the hottest weather for many years. Several cases of sunstroke were reported. At the same time a severe snow-storm was raging in the Black Hills in Dakota territory, the snow being from five inches to two feet in depth. —Another railroad robbery has taken place in Missouri. On the 8th inst., the express train on the Chicago & Alton road was stopped by nine masked men, who had previously placed stones and timbers on the track. The express messenger was fatally beaten, and the safe robbed of its contents. The robbers kept up a continual firing while they were robbing the passengers, nearly all of whom lost something. The notorious James gang are supposed to be the perpetrators. —The massacre of United States troops in Arizona, proved to be very much less than was at first supposed, but there is a general uprising of the Indians. The people have no doubt but that the troops will subjugate the Indians, and force them back onto their reservations, but think they will commence depredations again as soon as the troops are withdrawn. The cry with the Arizonians is "The Apaches must go." Nothing short of the extermination of the Indians or their removal from the Territory will satisfy them. —Advices from Panama August 31, say: "In a fight at Matagalpa, between about 5,000 Indians on one side and a detachment of troops and some 150 citizens on the other, the Indians lost 500 in killed and wounded. The other party had 28 killed and a number wounded. Previous to this fight, Indians attacked Esquipulas, killed the Captain in command, the Commissary, and a young telegraph operator named Vegar, who was stricken down while repairing a break in the Government telegraph line. The slaughter of various individuals followed, some of them being Indians who had refused to join the malcontents, and horrible outrages were inflicted upon others." —Michigan has been visited by one of the most destructive fires ever known there. Saginaw, Tuscola, Lapeer, and Huron counties have suffered terribly but the country along the shore of Lake Huron has suffered the most. The whole country seems to have been swept. The loss of life cannot be definitely stated, but it is known to be very great. The report says: "The approach of the fire was heralded by a dense atmosphere entirely obscuring the light, in the middle of the afternoon of Monday. The high winds had spread the fire, and every avenue had been closed to the fleeing homeless ones, leaving them to death by fire. Large burning masses of inflammables were lifted bodily and carried through the air. The skill and courage of cattle were rendered impotent, and men and cattle were roasted together in natural fire-traps." The report from the Collector at Port Huron, states that more than 10,000 persons are absolutely homeless and destitute. Contributions from all parts of the country are being sent to the aid of the homeless ones. Vanderbilt’s Indifference to the President’s Death
ONE of the richest men in the United States, William H. Vanderbilt, went to Chicago to witness the performance of his favorite mare, Maud S., on the race track. "During the interval between the heats some one in the stand announced the rumor that the President was dead, and soon after the report was communicated to Mr. Vanderbilt. He did not seem greatly concerned about the matter, and, unlike others in the stand, expressed no surprise. He was also unaffected by the announcement a few minutes later that the report was unfounded, the approaching performance of the mare evidently having a larger place in his mind." It has been well said that we can judge what estimate God places on wealth by observing the kind of persons to whom he gives most of it.—Christian Statesman. Issued by the S. D. A. Publishing Association, and for Sale at this Office. History of the Sabbath and First Day of the Week for the period of 6,000 years. By Eld. J. N. Andrews. 528 pp. $1.25 The Sanctuary and the 2300 Days of Dan. 8:14. By Eld U. Smith. This work explains the past Advent movement, and makes plain the present position of those who wait for the Lord. 353 pp. $1.00 Thoughts on Daniel, critical and practical. By Eld. U. Smith. An exposition of the book of Daniel, verse by verse. 416 pp. $1.25 Thoughts on Revelation. By Eld. U. Smith. This work presents every verse in the book of Revelation with such remarks as serve to illustrate or explain the meaning of the text. 420 pp. $1.25 Life of Wm. Miller, with portrait. This book gives interesting sketches of the Christian life and public labors of this pioneer in the Advent movement in this country. 416 pp. $1.00 Life of Elder Joseph Bates, relating his experience of twenty-five years on ship-board, with incidents of his rise from cabin-boy up to master and owner. The closing chapters relate to his labors in the ministry and in the cause of temperance and other moral reforms. Fine tint paper, 352 pp. $1.00 Life Sketches of Elder James, and Mrs. E. G. White. The early lives and Christian experiences of both are given in this volume. Their subsequent history is so connected with the cause, that this book gives an outline of the rise and progress of our people and our cause. With fine steel portraits of both. $1.25 Thrilling Incidents in the political life of Francesco Urgos, while a soldier with Garibaldi, including his perilous escape from the tyrants of Rome, and his subsequent travels in Africa and Syria. 328 pp. $1.00 The Biblical Institute. This work contains a synopsis of the lectures given at the Battle Creek College by Eld. U. Smith, and at Biblical Institutes. 352 pp. $1.00 The Nature and Destiny of Man. By Eld. U. Smith. This work treats on the great questions of the condition of man in death, and his destiny beyond the resurrection. 356 pp. $1.00 The Spirit of Prophecy; or, the Great Controversy between Christ and his angels, and Satan and his angels, in four volumes. By Mrs. E. G. White. These volumes cover the time from the fall of Satan to the destruction of sin and sinners at the close of the one thousand years of Rev. 20. Each, 400 pp.
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