Earlier text: The Limits of Human KnowledgeJ. O. CORLISS
By John Orr Corliss
From San Francisco to Australia.
On Sunday morning, May 10, our company, consisting of Elder Haskell, Elder Israel and family, Brother Henry Scott, Brother Wm. Arnold, and the writer and his family, embarked on the Royal Mail Steamship Australia, for Sydney, Australia. The same afternoon, at a little past two o'clock, the steamer left her moorings at the foot of Brannan Street, San Francisco, and steamed along the city front toward the Golden Gate. Numerous friends, who accompanied us to the ship, stood on the wharf and waved their adieus as long as we were in sight. Soon, however, our noble ship rounded a point of land and passed out through the "gate" to the broad ocean beyond. The motion of the ship soon drove most of our company to their berths, where they seemed perfectly satisfied to remain for a number of days. Outside of the "heads," the pilot took his leave of us, and our ship was soon on her "course" for the Hawaiian Islands, her first stopping-place. Although there is a regular line of steamers between San Francisco and Honolulu, the Australian steamers always have occasion to call at that port. Sometimes they have freight to that point, but always the mails, and some passengers. On this trip we had no freight for Honolulu, but had some379 first-class passengers, and sixty Chinese in the steerage. Our good vessel plowed her way steadily from day to day through the blue waters, with little variation in either speed or incident, until Sunday, May 17, when we discerned in the distance the first faint outlines of land. In appearance, this was like a cloud just rising above the horizon; but as we came nearer, it gradually took definite shape until the hills, and even the lowlands of the country, were spread out before us like a beautiful panorama. It was not long before we passed inside the coral-reefs, and into the snug harbor of Honolulu, and alongside the wharf. Here we met Brethren Scott and LaRue, and went with them to the mission rooms. We enjoyed a very precious season with these brethren, and only regretted the rapid flight of time that called us to separate from them so early. We were very soon reminded, however, that the time of the ship's departure was at hand, and in a short time we were on board again, ready to resume our journey to the far southwest. Staying so short a time at the islands we were not afforded all the opportunity we could have desired to visit places of interest. We will, however, note a few observations and statistics. The Hawaiian, or, as they are more commonly called, Sandwich Islands, are a group of fifteen islands, eight of which are inhabited. The area of these islands is 7,629 square miles, and their population something over 50,000. The active volcanoes on the island of Hawaii have converted its surface into a vast lava-bed. The highest of these is Mauna Loa, which is 13,760 feet above the sea. The uplands of these islands are better adapted to grazing than to agriculture, though, it is said that some fine wheat is produced on them. In the valleys, however, coffee, sugar, cotton, tobacco, cacao, arrowroot, mulberries, yams, sweet potatoes, and taro grow plentifully. The island of Oahu, of which Honolulu is the metropolis, is situated a little north of the center of the group, and is third in size, having an area of 600 square miles. Its highest altitude is 4,000 feet. Honolulu itself is a quaint old city of some 16,000 inhabitants. In the primitive portion of the town, lots are laid out in many curious forms—octagon, pentagon, curves, and triangles, with narrow streets or lanes adapted to each angle and curve. On each side of these roadways are massive old trees, whose interlacing branches shade the most picturesque walks and drives, and ancient looking cottages peep out from amidst a wealth of shrubs and flowering vines, whose tropical beauty eclipses the most carefully cultivated gardens of the United States. The city (and I suppose other parts of the island also) is now in mourning for the loss of their dowager queen, who died in Honolulu, April 25, of an attack of apoplexy. Queen Emma was held in high esteem by all her subjects. She was, undoubtedly, a woman of eminent virtues. In our next, we will speak of some points of interest that we have not time to mention in this imperfectly written letter. This leaves our entire company well and in good spirits. WHEN God took his people by the hand to bring them out of the land of Egypt, he gave them instruction which, if they had heeded, would have made them the wisest people upon the earth; they would have enjoyed the most perfect health of any, and been the most noble. They had laws that were wise and humane in every particular. God had said that they should be "the head and not the tail." They were to be the "light of the world." From them light and knowledge were to emanate to the heathen; but if they did not give heed to the instructions which God gave them, it would be the reverse of this. They would be afflicted with sickness, and every evil would come upon them. Some of these requirements were, to all appearances, directly opposed to their temporal prosperity as individuals. Here is one that must have come close to the covetous. It is found in Lev. 25:16: "According to the multitude of years thou shalt increase the price thereof, and according to the fewness of years thou shalt diminish the price of it; for according to the number of the years of the fruits doth he sell unto thee." This was a law pertaining to the jubilee. The Jews were permitted to sell their possessions to their brethren, or purchase of them, if they wished to do so; but in this they were to regard their wants if in any way they had become poor. The land thus transferred was to come back to the original owner at the end of a term of years. In the jubilee which came every fifty years each family and each tribe was to come into possession of its own land which God originally gave it. This had the effect to prevent any land monopoly. At the close of every fifty years, there was a distribution of the land, and God regulated the price of it accordingly. When there were many years to elapse before the jubilee, the price was to be proportionately large, and as they approached that time the price was to diminish. It mattered not how much improvement they made in their land, the real value was in the length of time they were to possess it. If for but one year it was worth only one-fiftieth as much as for fifty years. This principle was established so that no one might oppress another. The covetous man could not reason that his property was in a good condition, that he had previously been offered more for it, or that it had special attractions that made it superior to other places to him, so that he must have his price, and that unless he did have it he would hold to his property. These considerations were not to govern the price, but the value was to be estimated at what it would be to the purchaser. Thus a proper and just value would be placed upon property. Many of our friends are considering the propriety of selling property and investing in the cause of God. This is a wise and good resolution. Any investment for the salvation of souls for whom Christ died brings us into close relation and sympathy with him. All the glory which he had with the Father and the holy angels, all that he endured while upon the earth, his shameful death upon the tree, he invested in man's salvation. When his estate was settled, for settled it was, he had but one suit of clothes. His entire all was given to the enterprise he had undertaken. But how shall we estimate the value of property? That is the question. Is it right for us to take less than we have been offered for it in the past? At present it is a hard time to sell, and shall we wait until we can get our price? or shall we make some discount on it? This will be determined by the amount of faith the person has in the truth, and his interest in the cause of our divine Redeemer. If we really believe that the coming of the Lord "draweth nigh," and that the cause of present truth is worth more than any earthly enterprise, we shall act accordingly. We are led to believe that men usually act the faith which they have. We are not urging men to give away their property; this is not necessary; but all Heaven is interested to see how much faith we have in the cause of our divine Lord, the one who has done so much for us. Wisdom from Heaven is needed, and an earnestness begotten of the Holy Spirit. Satan will not permit us to sail into Heaven without meeting contrary winds. This is self-evident. The question for us to decide is, Is it right for those who believe that the end of all things is near, to act as though they believed it? The Judgment will reveal who are the earnest, confiding ones that prize the truth of God. S. N. H. Character and Achievement
SOME things must be in the man before the best things can go down in his record. The quality of doing depends upon the quality of being. What we are decides what we shall achieve. Faith and action, humility and courage, tenderness and conscientiousness, are the beautiful and balancing traits that must shine in us before our record shall greatly shine. Every man is the artificer of his own fortune, because every man is the builder of his own character. If this work of the interior be right, the work of external achievement will be right also.—Sel. Freshwater, Humboldt County, Cal.
By Frank T. Lamb
I COMMENCED meetings in this place May 20, and have held eighteen meetings to date. God has impressed hearts, and, as a result, ten adults have commenced to keep the Sabbath, and a Sabbath-school of twenty members has been organized. Brethren, may I still have your prayers that God may bless the proclamation of his truth here? FRANK T. LAMB. In proportion to their numbers, the poor are less criminal than the rich. They are more unselfish, more generous, more industrious, in proportion to their numbers, than the rich. A man's integrity cannot be predicated in any degree upon his financial condition.—Sel. Washington, D. C.
By J. W. S. Miller
WHEN I came to this city, one year ago, but few of the people knew anything of Seventh-day Adventists, but since then the Third Angel's Message has gradually spread until now thousands have some idea of present truth. We take 100 copies of the SIGNS each week, and place them in families, as far as they will reach. From our experience here, I have learned that it is best to work according to some decided system in the distribution of these valuable periodicals. The way we have done here is to leave the papers for the people to read, and have them preserved with the expectation that we will call for them. Then when we call for these we can leave others, and so continue till they subscribe, or state that they do not wish to read the paper any longer. In this way the same papers, when carefully kept, can be made to do service in two or three places, besides, by repeated calls, we can get somewhat acquainted with the readers and have opportunity to converse with them on portions of the truth. Of the 100 copies of the SIGNS we have now more than 300 readers. Of course some of the older ones drop off each week, but new ones are found to fill their places. We do not always get our papers back, because of frequent instances where those who have read them wish to send them to their friends; but we are always glad to have them used in that way. Nearly every night we have Bible-readings in some part of the city. We visit, on an average, about sixty families a day. Many precious souls are becoming interested, and anxious to learn more. For some time we have been holding Bible-readings, twice a week, at the house of a M. E. minister. He and his wife are both very much interested. He has frequently stated that he never saw things so plain and harmonious in the Bible as he now does. We are of good courage, and hope that many souls shall be gathered from this city to "keep the commandments of God and the faith of Jesus," and so be prepared to meet our Saviour when he comes in the clouds of heaven. A Charming Girl.
By Aunt Marjorie
WAS she charming? I cannot tell you, for I do not know enough about her to be sure. All girls are charming by right of their youth, by right of the fresh bloom and dainty brightness which are youth's dower and distinction, by right of the world's suffrage which lays honors at their feet. But some girls are more charming than others. I have my ideal and you, I presume, have yours. My ideal girl has good health, a good complexion, and gay spirits; she likes a brisk walk over city pavements, a merry canter up hill and down dale; a row on the lake does not exhaust her strength; nor does the vagrant bat or beetle, or the predatory mouse stealing across the floor, so frighten her that she screams. Indeed, my ideal girl never shrieks in an emergency, for she has cultivated presence of mind till it has become a second nature. She eats with appetite and sleeps without nightmare horrors. She has a cool head, a gentle hand with a clasp which means cordiality and confidence; her tones are low, her accents clear-cut as coins newly dropped from the mint; her laugh is a chime of bells, and her ready helpfulness is due to a wholesome interest in her fellow-creatures, to a healthful spirit, as to a body free from aches and pains. I have known girls who were not possessed of high health and tempered nerves, who had been handicapped from their birth by inherited defects, or whom over-indulgent parents had done their best to spoil, through the period of childhood, by all sorts of indiscretion in the way of dress, diet, and amusements, letting them go to parties, when they ought to have been in bed, arraying them in silks and jewelry and bidding them sit still like dolls, when they ought to have been romping out-doors in plain prints and stout shoes; and giving them false standards of duty and artificial gauges for pleasure through the formative years of early life. Darling girls were some of these unfortunates; but they had not been started well, and they were lovable in spite of their training; not lovely because of it. My ideal girl is unselfish, though she may not make a victim of herself to gratify the caprices of everybody around her. She is capable of real self-denial, and will at any time put aside her own plans and accept interruptions cheerfully, if she can thus oblige her parents or friends. I have known her to stay at home from a matinee, that her tired mother might go for a drive, it being impossible for both to leave home at the same time. I have seen her slip quietly away to Mrs. Smith's, at church time, when the day was fine and her pastor was preaching on a very attractive topic, and, not going herself to church, she stayed in Mrs. Smith's nursery and cared for a teething baby while the little mother went to the house of prayer. I have known, not from her own sounding of trumpets, but on good authority, that she has given the price of a new pair of gloves to buy her brother the book which he has longed for, and which made the evening lamp and the home circle enchanting to him for a week. I have known her to repress the resentful word when annoyed, have heard her answer jest with repartee, and have seen how her very coming in at the door was as the entrance of sunbeams into a shadowy place. I could go on for the next hour describing her, and you, if you are as fortunate as I in the girls of your acquaintance, would be saying: "Why, this is Florence and that is Susie, or it is Trix or Mabel." For there are many delightful girls who tread softly where there are aged people or invalids, who never hurt your feelings, who come when you want them and go when you wish they would depart, and, somehow, oil the hinges and smooth the angles and take the sharp edges away from the intercourse of the family and society. They are peace-keepers as well as peace-makers. What of the girl I began with? Pardon Aunt Marjorie if she grows garrulous and forgets where she started. This girl was described by a relative in these words: "She never makes any trouble; she is never too hot nor too cold; she can sit or stand, or be alone or in company, or, wherever she is, she is happy and pleased." The description spoke to me very suggestively. Perhaps the young lady was naturally amiable. It is a blessed thing to be born with an amiable disposition, to be free from fretfulness by that grace of God which conferred a sweet temperament and elastic hopefulness on one in the cradle. It is a more blessed thing to have attained through self-control the exercise of Christian endeavor and the discipline of every-day life, to that state of mind in which self is in the background and loving regard for others is always unconsciously in the front. Nobody is ever charming who is merely negative, merely passive. Don't tell me that a person is not this, not that, if you desire to win for her my admiration. An admired person must have positive traits, must have excellences which are apparent. Still, when I hear of a girl who never dwells on any passing discomforts, who is never irritated or peevish, I fancy that she is not a mollusk; else her friends would not be enthusiastic in her behalf. I am reasonably certain that she has learned the golden rule of love and life—to be sympathetic, to have leisure for others' perplexities and tangles, to smile when smiles are expected, and to be gently pitiful in the house of mourning. The girl I think charming is not weakly dependent. She will never be a dead-weight nor a drag on any man, be he her father, her brother, or her husband. A help, not a hindrance, a blessing, not a bane, this charming girl will develop into a charming woman, who will make her mark wherever she may be. She will never be contented to vegetate, getting precisely the joy out of existence which the placid cow, ruminating in the meadow, considers the height of felicity. Every day, bringing to her its duties, will also bring its pleasures, and she will disdain to greet the dawn of day with a blasé indifference or a languid ennui. Progressive, because conscientious, she will not waste her energies on a round of frivolity nor spend herself in the pursuit of fashionable success. She will "keep up" her studies, will read, think, and talk, to some purpose. Conversation may be a lost art in some houses, but it is not beneath the attention of our charming girl to cultivate it as an accomplishment worth having, a graceful gift, second neither to beauty nor to youth. The really good talker, who can listen as well, is sure of a welcome in any circle. The crowning charm of any girl's character is, I say this reverently, in its consecration to the highest and the best. It is the basest ingratitude in woman in a Christian land not to devote herself to Jesus, who has so elevated and rounded her life, so filled it with a sweetness, so dignified its environment, and so thronged it with opportunities and privileges. No woman, old or young, who lacks Christian consecration can be truly winning. We love the rose for its perfume, and piety is the perfume of womanly character.—Aunt Marjorie, in the Intelligencer. The Home Circle.
By Nora Perry
WHAT silence we keep year after year,
With those who are most near to us and dear;
We live beside each other day by day,
And speak of myriad things, but seldom say
The full, sweet word that lies just in our reach,
Beneath the commonplace of common speech. Then out of sight and out of reach they go—
Those close familiar friends, who loved us so;
And, sitting in the shadow they have left,
Alone with loneliness, and sore bereft,
We think with vain regret of some fond word
That once we might have said and they have heard. For weak and poor the love that we expressed
Now seems beside the vast, sweet unexpressed,
And slight the deeds we did, to those undone,
And small the service spent, to treasure won,
And undeserved the praise, for word and deed
That should have overflowed the simple need. This is the cruel cross of life, to be
Full visioned only when the ministry
Of death has been fulfilled and in the place
Of some dear presence is but empty space.
What recollected services can then
Give consolation for the might have been? —Nora Perry, in Independent. "HAND me that collar-button!" cried George Wellsby, turning with an annoyed air toward his little girl. "Learn to let things alone, will you? There, now, tune up and howl!" "George, please don't speak to the child in that way," said Mrs. Wellsby, depositing a shirt for him on a chair. "Well, why can't she behave herself? Every time she sees that I am getting ready to go any place, she makes a point of hindering me. Let that cravat alone!" "Put down papa's cravat, darling," said the mother. "She's too young to know any better, George." "No, she isn't! Other people's children know better. I am tempted sometimes to wish she had never been born." "O George," exclaimed his wife, "I wouldn't say that!" "Confound it! she worries me so. I haven't more than time to catch the train," he responded, hurriedly kissing his wife. "I ought not; you are so bad;" but he stooped and kissed her. "Good-by; I'll be back in three or four days." Mr. Wellsby is a commercial traveler, a kind and tender-hearted man, but subject at times to nervousness. Seated with several vivacious acquaintances speeding over the country, a little voice would steal in between the merry peals of laughter, saying, "Kiss me, too, papa." In the sample-room of the village hotel, between the inquiries of purchasers, he could hear the voice; and when he laid down at night he could see the little hands reaching toward him, and could hear, "Kiss me, too, papa." At morning, when the sunbeams fell across his bed, he thought of the bright little face at home, and said, "God forgive me for wishing that she had never been born!" On a night train, going home, he could see the little hands, and hear the "Kiss me, too, papa." "What's the news?" he asked a friend as he stepped upon the platform and called a hackman. "Nothing, I believe; everything is quiet." "No scarlet fever or diphtheria raging, is there?" "No, none that I have heard of." The familiar scenes brought rest to his mind. He looked back upon his trip with a shudder, as one wakes and contemplates a nightmare through which he has just passed. "Good-night," he said, paying the hackman. "A light burning! Julia is expecting me," he mused, ascending the steps. A ghastly face met him at the door. A voice in agony whispered, "O George, our little girl is dead!"—Sel. Misplaced Affection for Poodles
PEOPLE who can waste time and affection in petting and caressing poodle dogs are generally lacking in the larger and nobler affection and sympathy that seeks for its object the children of the suffering poor, many of whom could be made happy if given half the comforts wasted on poodles.—Sel. My father, whose name is Donald Fraser, and his neighbor, William Fraser, were very intimate, and as much together as was consistent with their occupation, they being both industrious farmers. My father was nearly seventy years of age, and his friend William was several years his senior. Both were Highland Scotchmen from Inverness-shire, and, as is the case with so many of their countrymen, both were devotees of the pipe and the tobacco-quid from their youth up. A quarter of a century before, they had both, from conscientious motives, given up their dram, as they called it, my father leading in that movement and persuading his friend to follow. They never were what would be called intemperate; but from that time forth they were total abstainers from all intoxicants. They were both godly men, and most of their conversation was on topics of religious experience. One night, at my father's house, during their chatting they commenced filling their pipes, and William Fraser, turning thoughtfully to my father and tapping the bowl of his pipe with the handle of his tobacco knife, exclaimed, "Donald, what do you think of this smoking and chewing business?" My father shrewdly answered by asking another question, and said, "What do you think of it yourself, William?" William replied, "Donald, we say we are Christians, and, if we are Christians, we are free men in Christ Jesus. Now, Donald, when we are doing this thing, and we can nae quit it, are we free?" "Do you think yourself we are?" replied my father. "I am nae sure o' it," said William, who retained much more of the Scotch dialect than my father. "And see here," said my father, "what we spit around and burn into smoke, of this nasty stuff, costs us nearly as much money as we give to the Master's cause. Is this right?" "Do you think, Donald," says William, "that if we should quit it, we could do more for Christ?" Both then with one impulse, suiting the action to the words, said, "Let us put the things up, then;" and both, rising to their feet, laid the pipes and the tobacco on the mantle-piece, where they lay for many a long day. These two men of God never smoked nor chewed again. William Fraser has gone to his rest; my father still lives, in his eighty-sixth year, a free man.—Monthly Record. AN intelligent girl of our acquaintance half wished, not long since, when she came home from the boarding-school in which she had been well trained in all the "ologies," that she did not know the English language any better than her parents. "If he hain't got nothin' of his own," were the words she heard. How they jarred upon her ear! They made her hot and cold at once. Had her father's language always been as bad as this? Of course it must have been, only she did not notice it before those years at boarding-school, during which she had made friends with the queen's English. "If he hain't got nothin' of his own," her father was saying, with reference to a young man who aspired to be his son-in-law. "He has, at least, a good education," Margaret suggested, with some spirit. "Yes, yes; but eddication ain't all. I've known college-learnt men that had hard pullin' to get their bread and butter. But ef you like him, Peggy, why, I hain't worked all my life without gettin' somethin' ahead to help you along, ef a pinch comes." Margaret's heart reproached her, then. She looked at the two true-hearted old people who were her parents, and who sat there before her. Yes, that was what they had been doing all their lives. They might have read and have given time and have become more intelligent—only they had chosen this other thing: chosen to work for her, that she might have what they had lacked in their young days; that she might be well taught, and wear soft raiment, and keep her hands white and shapely! And she—she who had never sacrificed one thing for anybody; who had grown like a fruitless flower in the warm sunshine—she, indeed, had been impatient with their verbs, and scornful of their double negatives, and secretly ashamed of them before her school-fellows. Something seemed to choke her at the thought, and with moistened eyes she went up to them and tenderly kissed first one and then the other, and said, gently, "It shall be as you say, father. If you think Harry and I ought not to marry without more money, we will wait. It shall be just as you wish." "No, I don't want that," he replied. "I guess you'll have your way now; you pretty much always have; but you're a good girl, Peggy, and I'm willin' to please you." And so he was; and it is right that parents should make life larger and better for the children God has given them, but oh the pity of it, when to grow in knowledge must be to grow away from home!—Youth's Companion. The True Gentleman's Portrait.
THE following sketch is called, "The Portrait of the True Gentleman." It was in an old manor house in Gloucestershire, England, written and framed, and hung over the mantle-piece of a sitting-room: "The true gentleman is God's servant, the world's master, and his own man. Virtue is his business, study his recreation, contentment his rest, and happiness his reward. God is his Father, Jesus Christ his Saviour, the saints his brethren, and all that need him his friends. Devotion is his chaplain, Chastity his chamberlain, Sobriety his butler, Temperance his cook, Hospitality his housekeeper, Providence his steward, Charity his treasurer, Piety his mistress of the house, and Discretion his porter to let in or out, as most fit. Thus is his whole family made up of virtue, and he is the true master of the house. He is necessitated to take the world on his way to Heaven, and he walks through it as fast as he can, and all his business by the way is to make himself and others happy. Take him in two words,—a man and a Christian." Early Treatment of Cholera.
If cholera should appear in your dwelling, the first thing to do is to isolate the patient; put him in a comfortable room without carpets and with as little furniture as is consistent with comfort; disinfect immediately all discharges from the body, and either burn or bury them; do not throw them into either privy or cesspool to poison your family or your neighbors; see that the patient has medical attendance promptly; do not wait ten or twelve hours to see if he will get better—delay in cholera means death. Cholera always gives warning of its approach by premonitory diarrhea; this is the favorable opportunity to arrest the disease; the attack is then under the control of medicine judiciously chosen and administered; a few hours' delay, and it will have passed from comparative safety into extreme danger, perhaps beyond the power of remedies to save; act, then, promptly and intelligently, and a valuable life may be rescued from a fatal illness. If there is no medical man within easy call, and a person be attacked with premonitory diarrhea, place him in bed at once, apply warmth to the feet, a mustard poultice over the abdomen, and give a teaspoonful of paregoric (which is to be found in every family), every hour until your medical attendant arrives. Do not give indiscriminately, stimulants,—brandy, red pepper, camphor, ginger, etc., advised by busy-bodies; wait for skilled medical advice—more people are killed by quackery and meddlesome trifling than by disease. If traveling, avoid as much as possible using urinals or water-closets at railway stations; they are constant sources of infection, if not properly taken care of and daily disinfected. Remember that cholera is always, in this country, imported; it seeks crowds, and follows, as a rule, the line of travel; railway companies and lines of transportation generally, should see that all urinals, water-closets, and baggage-rooms belonging to the company, or about their premises, are daily cleansed, purified, and disinfected.—California State Board of Health. A MEMBER of the editorial staff of the Methodist Times (London), in the issue of that paper for April 10, gives a very interesting account of what he saw and heard at a modern celebration of the Jewish passover, at the house of an orthodox Jew, to which he had been invited on the occasion. The account is too long to be inserted here, but we give the closing paragraph. The writer says: "Supper being ended, I said, amongst other things, to an intelligent and affable Rabbi, who sat next to me, 'May I ask with what kind of wine you have celebrated the passover this evening?' 'With a non-intoxicating wine,' he promptly replied. Jews never use fermented wine in their synagogue services, and must not use it on the passover, either for synagogue or home purposes. Fermented liquor of any kind comes under the category of 'leaven,' which is proscribed in so many well-known places in the Old Testament. The wine which is used by Jews during the week of passover is supplied to the community by those licensed by the Chief Rabbi's Board, and by those only. Each bottle is sealed in the presence of a representative of the ecclesiastical authorities. The bottle standing yonder on the sideboard, from which the wine used to-night was taken, was thus sealed. I may also mention that poor Jews who cannot afford to buy this wine, make an unfermented wine of their own, which is nothing else but an infusion of Valencia or Muscatel raisins. I have recently read the passage in Matthew in which the paschal supper is described. There can be no doubt whatever that the wine used upon that occasion was unfermented. Jesus as an observant Jew would not only not have drunk fermented wine on the passover, but would not have celebrated the passover in any house from which everything fermented had not been removed. I may mention that the wine I use in the service at the synagogue is an infusion of raisins. You will allow me, perhaps, to express my surprise that Christians, who profess to be followers of Jesus of Nazareth, can take what he could not possibly have taken as a Jew—intoxicating wine, at so sacred a service as the sacrament of the Lord's supper."—Methodist Recorder. Tobacco and Rum Common Nuisances
By Editor
A CORRESPONDENT thinks tobacco as well as rum is a common nuisance. So do we. He also thinks that churches ought to pronounce both common nuisances, and allow them no longer to defile their courts. So do we.—Independent. "DANIEL purposed in his heart that he would not defile himself with the king's meat, nor with the wine which he drank." A MODERATE use of things that are in themselves hurtful is not temperance.