We have just received a supplement to the Review which contains an account of the organization at Battle Creek, Mich., of the "American Health and Temperance Association." Its object is three-fold: To advance the cause of health, of temperance, and of an elevated Christianity. And yet its object is but one, as the subjects of health and temperance properly belong to the subject of Christianity.
It was organized by electing a Board of officers, Dr. J. H. Kellogg being President, and adopting a Constitution and By-Laws. It presents three pledges :—
1. A teetotal pledge, discarding all stimulants.
2. An anti-rum and anti-tobacco pledge.
3. An anti-whisky pledge. A certificate is to be given with each pledge, graded according to the pledge.
Eld. Haskell follows the Constitution in the supplement with an article, "Temperance from a Bible Standpoint," which is here copied :—
"There is power in the Christian religion to keep men from being overcome by evil habits. It is often said, 'That man is a worthless fellow; he can't be saved.' But the question arises, 'How do you know that?' 'Because he's so far gone that he is a slave to his appetite.' In a paper received a few months since from a correspondent who is an ardent advocate of temperance, a writer in Europe speaks as follows: 'I have labored many years in the Old World to lead men to abolish wine and all ardent spirits from their tables, and in all the time thus spent I have not accomplished as much in this direction as Eld. J. N. Andrews, a missionary from America, accomplished in a few months. Eld. Andrews is a missionary sent by Seventh-day Adventists. He presents the subject of temperance from a religious standpoint, believing that no man can be truly converted to God unless all his passions are in subjection to the mind and will of Heaven. He reasons that if the appetite controls the man, the Spirit of God does not; and that no man who is a slave to his appetite can be a free man in Christ.'
"Intoxication can be produced by all fermented wines, liquors, and beer, small beer not excepted. The first teetotal society in America originated as follows: In 1825, Captain Joseph Bates, of Fairhaven, Mass., having seen the evil of intoxicating drinks, formed a temperance society. Captain Stephen Merihew was President, and Mr. Charles Drew, Secretary. It was voted that rum, gin, brandy, and whisky were ardent spirits.
"'A short time after our organization,' says Captain Bates, 'one of our number was reported to have violated his pledge. This he denied. 'But you were intoxicated,' said we. He declared that he had drank nothing but cider, and that was allowed. (We were told that his wife said she would a great deal rather he would get drunk on brandy; for when he got drunk on cider he was as ugly again.) After considerable trouble the member was expelled. Then they inserted in their pledge, 'all intoxicating drinks.' 'From this a reform was introduced which finally resulted in the disuse of all intoxicating drinks except for medicinal purposes. This reform gave us the name of 'Teetotalers.'' This organization took its birth in the bosom of the Christian Church.
"Those reforms which have molded society for the better have ever been nurtured by the people of God. It is conscience, enlightened by the Spirit of God, that gives life and vitality to every advance step in righteousness. It is hoped that this organization now originated among Seventh-day Adventists will ever be found a shining light in the world."
Without God’s Assistance
WITHOUT God's assistance we can do nothing; John 15:5; 2 Cor. 3:5; and without God's blessing all we do will come to nothing.—Psa. 127:1.
"WHEREFORE comfort one another with these words." While the great majority of professed Christians have no real faith in, or love for, the immediate second advent of our Lord and Saviour to this earth, and can see no especial force or beauty in the above scripture as applicable at the present, more than at any other time, there are those whose hearts move with emotions of joy, as they read these words. With the precious promises of the context they are comforted, and with them they also comfort others.
Promised blessings of priceless worth to the humble, obedient servant of God, are here. Earth may count on treasures of riches and wisdom; of knowledge and power; we would not undervalue them; but compared with the reward held out to the overcomer, they are as a bubble to the mighty ocean; or as the fine dust of the balance to myriads of worlds.
"But I would not have you to be ignorant, brethren, concerning them which are asleep, that ye sorrow not even as others which have no hope." The grave holds in its cold bosom many of our dear friends. Locked in silent slumber, and forever shut away from our embrace; we should be deprived of the inspiring hope of again meeting them, were it not for the comforting promise of the resurrection of the dead. We need not sorrow for such as have fallen asleep in Jesus, as those sorrow who have no hope. For the Life-giver is coming. Yes, the signs bespeak him near, even at the door.
"For if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so them also which sleep in Jesus will God bring with him. For this we say unto you by the word of the Lord, that we which are alive and remain unto the coming of the Lord shall not prevent them which are asleep. For the Lord himself shall descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God; and the dead in Christ shall rise first; then we which are alive and remain shall be caught up together with them in the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air; and so shall we ever be with the Lord."
Herein is set forth the promise that the Lord shall come again. Said the angels to the men of Galilee, "This same Jesus, which is taken up from you into heaven, shall so come in like manner as ye have seen him go into heaven." Acts 1:11. Personally, and visibly, he passed out of the sight of those who anxiously gazed upon him as he ascended to the Father. And he shall so come in like manner; not spiritually, not mystically. He will descend with the glory of his Father with the holy angels, with a shout, with the voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God; and everywhere the sleeping saints will awake, and come forth with rapturous songs of triumph, and everlasting victory over death and the grave. "Death is swallowed up in victory. O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?"
Now, the living saints, who have waited for the Lord, have loved and looked for his appearing, shall be changed, "in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye," and caught up together with those who have arisen from their dusty beds to meet him in the air; "and so shall we ever be with the Lord."
Dear reader, does your heart burn with love for him who died that we might live? Do you remember his agony in the garden, and upon the cross, where he poured out his life for us? Do you desire to see him when he comes in majesty and power, the King of kings, and Lord of lords? Do you desire his return as you would that of a dear friend? If so, you will watch with the most intense anxiety every sign which shall unmistakably herald his speedy approach. Your hearts will beat high and warm in joyous anticipation of that heavenly meeting, where friends long separated will meet to part no more. All the children of God, from the first who learned to revere his holy name, and to obey his righteous precepts, to the last one folded in the arms of divine love, now arise to meet their descending Lord. Hail happy moment! Hail victorious conquerers! The long battle of life is fought. Victory is gained. No more tears shall be shed. No more sorrow or grief shall be your lot. Heaven is secured. The whole family of God are saved, forever saved. "Wherefore comfort one another with these words."
"Saints, lift your heads; that day is near,
When your Redeemer shall appear,
To take the kingdom and the crown,
And make his ransomed church his own."
A. S. HUTCHINS.
The Fear of the Lord
—Psa.
THE fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom
Only a Dollar.
"SHE sews very nicely," said Mrs. Wharton, "and if you have any work you wish to be done well and very cheaply, I would advise you to employ her."
Mrs. Wharton was sitting before the fire in her crimson silk morning wrapper, and her pretty hands loaded with rich rings, lying in her lap. She felt that she was doing a charitable deed in employing this poor widow, and a still greater one in recommending her to her friends.
It is easy to be a good Christian under such circumstances.
"Well, I shall certainly send for her," said Mrs. Marvin; "what did you tell me her name and address were?"
"Mrs. Leggett, and she lives in one of those horrid, musty, tenement houses, No.—, — street, the back room, in the third story."
Mrs. Marvin entered the details in her little pearl-bound tablet, and took her leave, internally convinced that Mrs. Wharton was a "good Samaritan," of the very highest class.
Meanwhile the latter was gazing dreamily into the fire, wondering what toilette would be the most appropriate for the morrow evening's soiree.
"There's my pea-green satin," mused Mrs. Wharton, checking off the various garments on the tips of her white fingers: "but I've worn it already. And there is my Marie Louise blue silk, if the skirt was only gored a little more. My wine colored silk with the ruby set would look very well, if Fanny Palmer hadn't got one just like it. And purple velvet don't light up very well at night. Oh dear! I really think I must get something new. A rose colored tissue perhaps, or a white India muslin. My wardrobe is getting dreadfully behind. Dear me, who's that? How you startled me, Mrs. Leggett!"
"I beg your pardon ma'am, I am sure," said the slender, meek-looking little seamstress, rustling gently forward in her garment of shabby, well-worn black; "but I knocked several times and you did not answer."
"Then you should knock louder next time," said the irritable fine lady: "however, now you are here, you may as well sit down. How wet you are—positively dripping!"
"Yes ma'am, it rains very hard, and I have no umbrella."
"No umbrella! dear me, how shocking. Well, did you bring home these things?"
"Yes ma'am, here they are."
And the seamstress produced a neat package from beneath her shawl.
"I hope they are not wet. No, they seem tolerably dry. What is the bill?"
"Six dollars, ma'am."
"Six dollars! isn't that high?" inquired Mrs. Wharton, discontentedly.
"I worked eleven days faithfully on them, ma'am."
"Well, I suppose I must pay what you ask," said Mrs. Wharton, opening her purse and slowly examining its compartments. "Dear me, I have only a five dollar bill; I suppose you could not change a twenty?"
Mrs. Leggett smiled bitterly.
"No, ma'am, I could not."
"Well, then, we will call it five dollars, won't we? A dollar is not much either way, and the five is all I have."
"A dollar is a great deal to me, Mrs. Wharton."
The lady's smooth brow contracted. "I have given you a great deal of work, Mrs. Leggett."
"I know it ma'am, and I am very much obliged for all your kindness."
"And I should be sorry to have so trifling a thing as a dollar part us now."
Mrs. Leggett was silent; she did not know what to say.
"Call it five dollars," said Mrs. Wharton, tossing the bill into the lap of the widow. "A dollar don't signify, and then I recommended my friend, Mrs. Marvin, to employ you this morning."
"Thank, you ma'am," said the poor woman, faintly, as she took the money, feeling inwardly that she had been defrauded, yet perfectly aware that she had no means of redress.
"Ma'am, if you please," said Mary, waitress, "here is the newspaper boy, he says master told him you would pay the bill this week."
"How much is it, Mary?"
"A dollar, ma'am."
"How provoking I haven't a dollar in the house."
"He says he has orders not to leave the house until it is paid."
"He is very impertinent," said the lady, coloring up, and for the first time in her petted life, feeling the want of a dollar.
Mrs. Clarence Fitz Gerald was the next person announced—a lady of the utmost style, whose acquaintance Mrs. Wharton had just succeeded in making.
"You stare at my being out in this storm, my dear, but I am raising a dollar subscription for a poor musician who has just broken his arm. Of course I may depend on you."
Mrs. Wharton colored. "I will send it around in the morning."
"That won't do," said Mrs. Fitz Gerald, shrugging her shoulders; "I am determined to settle the business to-day."
"I am very sorry," said our mortified heroine, "but I have not a single dollar in the house."
Mrs. Fitz Gerald bowed coldly; evidently she did not believe the protestation, and Mrs. Wharton saw her enter her coupe and drive away with the comfortable consciousness that she would be invited to no more of Mrs. Clarence Fitz Gerald's delightful exclusive parties.
Mrs. Wharton was now considerably annoyed.
"To think a dollar should be such a useful thing," she muttered to herself, taking up her portfolio.
A half finished letter lay there—one to her sister who was the wife of a clergyman out West, with a flock of little children around her. The last words she had written were, "I send you a dollar to buy a doll for the baby, my little name-sake."
"How provoking!" she exclaimed, "I can't even finish my letter for lack of the everlasting dollar!"
She leaned back in the velvet cushions of her chair, drowsily watching the blaze and listening to the patter of the rain on the window, and fell fast asleep.
Where was she? In the spectre boat of Charon, gliding over the Styx—and as the bark touched the shores of the other world, the ghastly toll-gatherer extended his hand relentlessly:—"Your fare, if you please, ma'am."
Mrs. Wharton had her fare ready; she handed it up, eager to pass through the gates where she could see the musical wave of the palm trees, and sparkling glittering tides that flow beneath the shadow.
"Short by a dollar, ma'am. Short by the single dollar you cheated the poor seamstress out of. You cannot enter."
Mrs. Wharton then drew out a hundred dollar bill. The grim Charon shook his head.
"If you had ten thousand it would not do; nothing will serve our purpose but that one dollar."
Charon turned the boat briskly around; Mrs. Wharton was just opening her lips to utter a wild cry of anguish, pleading, when she awoke.
She shuddered; somehow the dollar had assumed preternaturally very large dimensions.
"Charles! Charles!" how welcome were the footsteps of her husband upon the stairs.
"Well, what is it?"
"Have you a dollar?"
"Half a dozen of them if you want."
"But I only wanted one—just a dollar bill."
He gave it to her, and she immediately rang the bell.
"John, I want you to put on your India rubber cloak, and take this bill around to Mrs. Leggett, and tell her it is what I owe her!"
John departed, and Mrs. Wharton breathed more easily.
"Perhaps they will let me in the gates now," she said dreamily.
"My dear, what do you mean?" demanded her astonished husband.
And Mrs. Wharton told him the story of her day's adventures, and the dream that closed them.
"Helen," said her husband gravely, "let this be a lesson to you, never to neglect the just dues of the poor. A dollar is not much to us—to them it may be the last frail bulwark between them and starvation."
But there was no danger of Mrs. Wharton ever forgetting the lesson she had received.
—Sel.
How Birds Improve in Nest Building.
By William Keith Brooks
WE have long been told that beasts and birds work only by "instinct," and that they never reason and are incapable of any improvement. It is interesting to notice how occasional facts upset the best "philosophy" of the wise. The following article is rare in its statement of facts, and cannot fail to interest every reader:—
"You often will meet with the statement in books about birds and birds' nests, that each species goes on, year after year and generation after generation, building its nest precisely the way which has always been followed by its ancestors. It is said that birds build their nests entirely by instinct, and that no improvement ever takes place, but that each bird selects a place for its nest, and gathers the materials, and goes through the process of building in exactly the way which has been followed by thousands of generations. It is also stated that young birds know how to do all this without any instruction, and make their first nest as skillfully as those old birds which have had experience, and have raised several broods of young. These statements are made so often by writers upon natural history, that it would seem as if there must be a good reason for them, and yet not one of them is true. Birds do not always go on building their nests in similar places to those in which their ancestors built, but whenever better places are offered them, they soon learn to take advantage of them; neither do they stick to the same material for one generation after another, but whenever more suitable material is placed within their reach they often learn to use it, so that their nests are much better than those built by their ancestors; neither is it true that they never improve the shape of their nests, nor that the young birds are as skillful architects as the old.
"You all know that only a few hundred years ago there was not a barn or a chimney within the United States, unless, perhaps, those singular cliff-dwelling people in New Mexico and Arizona, of whom we know so little, had barns and chimneys. At any rate, we know that on the east side of the Mississippi, at the time when the white men discovered and settled the country, there were no people who knew anything of architecture. The barn and chimney swallows were to be found here then as they are today, but of course they were compelled to build their nests in hollow trees and caves, or any other suitable places which they were able to find. As soon as white men spread over the country and erected buildings, these birds, which had never before seen a barn or a chimney, soon discovered that these places are much warmer and dryer than rotten trees and damp caves, as well as better protected from storms; and it probably did not take many years for the swallows to discover that snakes, and birds, and beasts of prey did not dare to approach such places. These wise birds, then, improved upon the habits of their ancestors, and gave up their old savage life in the woods, in order to share the benefits of civilization.
"It seems as natural now for a barn-swallow to make its nest in a barn, as for a catbird to build in a bush or a tree; but it is plain that this has not always been the case, and that these birds have been wise enough to change their mode of life.
"It is very certain that a few hundred years ago orioles could have known nothing about string or carpet ravelings, and must have confined themselves to such stringy fibres as can be found in a natural state; and those orioles which build their nests at a distance from houses, still make use of grass, flax, and fibres of silk-weed, and other things which they are able to find; but of course a much stronger and more durable nest can be woven from strong thread and string, and the birds have not been slow to discover this and to act accordingly.
"A few years ago Pouchet, a French naturalist, who was then engaged in writing a book upon natural history, wished to have an engraving made of the nest of the common European house-martin. The nests in his collection were nearly fifty years old, and, thinking that the artist would be able to make a much better picture from a new and perfect nest than from an old one, he employed a man to collect a number from the walls of the houses in Paris.
"Upon comparing these with the old nests in his collection, Pouchet found that there had been a very great improvement in the architecture of these birds within the last fifty years. He says that the old nests are globular, or forming a segment of a sphere, with a very small rounded opening, just large enough to allow the passage of the birds inhabiting it; and the accounts of all the ancient writers agree in describing this as the form of the nest in their day. The new nest is in the form of the quarter of a hollow semi-oval, this giving three flat surfaces for attachment instead of one, and affording much more room on the floor of the nest. The opening is no longer a round hole, but a long transverse slit, between the upper edge of the nest and the wall of the building to which it is attached, thus allowing the young to put their heads out and enjoy the fresh air, without interfering with the entrance and exit of the parents. M. Pouchet says that, besides the advantages of more room inside the nest, increased facilities for access and greater strength, it is also more secure from the invasion of enemies, and better protected from the entrance of cold and rain, and is thus a decided improvement upon the old form.
"Many of the naturalists who have studied the habits of birds with the greatest care have satisfied themselves that young birds are not as skillful as the old. Nearly one hundred and fifty years ago Leroy, a French naturalist who spent his life in studying the habits of the wild animals of Europe, published a book, which has lately been translated into English, on the 'Intelligence and Perfectibility of Animals.' In this book he says that it is impossible that a constant and attentive observer should fail to remark that the nests of young birds are almost invariably ill-made and badly situated. He also shows that the best and most complicated nests are made by those species of birds whose young remain a long time in the nest, and thus have more opportunity to see how it is made. Wilson, the ornithologist, who spent his life in studying the habits of our birds, reached the same conclusion—that there is a very perceptible inferiority in the nests of young birds.—Prof. W. K. Brooks, in St. Nicholas for August.
The Home Circle.
By Mary J. Porter
Poor Mrs. Jenkins.
My friend, Mrs. Jenkins, who lives in this city,
Considers herself a fit object of pity;
She has causes for sorrow so many and great,
That her business in life is her woes to relate.
She dwells in a mansion both stately and fine,
On dantiest food is accustomed to dine;
But then, as she says, the house loads her with cares,
And she really is weary of climbing the stairs.
Besides, she must think every day what to eat,
And the servants half kill her—'Twould be quite a treat
To be rid of their clamor, if only a day—
To wait on herself were the easiest way.
Then—the climate—'Tis wearing, we all must confess;
In the morning one never can know how to dress;
Though bright be the sunshine, perhaps before noon,
We'll discover the signs of a storm, coming soon.
And speaking of dressing, what trouble it brings!
The bird in the cage—that now cheerily sings—
Would silence his song, if oppressed with dolor
Of changing his feathers and choosing their color.
And then, too, the children, of course, must be taught'
And masters for them must be carefully sought;
And dear Mr. Jenkins has so much to do—
That he says to his wife, "I will leave this to you."
'Tis a terrible burden—this training the boys—
They are so full of pranks, and they make constant noise;
And their sister is frail—a mere sensitive plant—
She's become such a charge that she stays with her aunt.
Moreover, our town has defects, very many;
And society's poor, if indeed there is any;
Existence is here disagreeable, very—
To go to New York one must needs cross the ferry!
And then, in the church Mrs. Jenkins attends,
She has not, in fact, a half dozen friends:
She does not, 'tis true, yield to social demands;
But her time is quite occupied—also her hands.
Would you learn any more of this troubled one's grief?
I must beg you to visit her—yet life is brief;
And days, even weeks, insufficient to hear
The moans and laments that shall fall on your ear.
—Mary J. Porter.
Give Joy to a Child.
By Douglas Jerrold
BLESSED be the hand that prepares a pleasure for a child, for there is no saying when and where it may again bloom forth. Does not almost everybody remember some kind-hearted man who showed him a kindness in the dulcet days of his childhood? The writer of this recollects himself, at this moment, as a barefooted lad, standing at the wooden fence of a poor little garden in his native village, while with longing eyes he gazed on the flowers which were blooming there quietly in the brightness of a Sabbath morning. The possessor came forth from his little cottage; he was a wood-cutter by trade, and spent the whole week at work in the woods. He had come into the garden to gather flowers to put in his coat when he went to church. He saw the boy, and breaking off the most beautiful of his carnations—it was streaked with red and white—he gave it to him. Neither the giver nor the receiver spoke a word, and with bounding steps the boy ran home. And now here, at a vast distance from that home, after so many events of so many years, the feelings of gratitude which agitated the breast of that boy expresses itself on paper. The carnation has long since withered, but it now blooms afresh.
—Douglas Jerrold.
The Chains of Habit
The chains of habit are generally too light to be felt, until they are too strong to be broken. This should be well considered by all who are forming habits for life.
Maine.
By J. B. Goodrich
DECEMBER 14, commenced meetings at Cornville. Some have taken a decided stand for the truth, and we hope for others. Eight years ago some valuable additions were made to this church, and we rejoice to see others added now. To the Lord be all the praise. Bro. Sawyer was with us Dec. 22.
Dec. 27. J. B. GOODRICH.
Reports from the Field.
By John G. Matteson
Christiana, Norway.
THE truth is onward. I have added one more room to our rooms for meeting. We now use four large rooms. The pulpit is in the middle room, and there are large double doors between, so that all can easily hear. We can now accommodate three hundred persons, still the rooms are filled with hearers at every lecture. I speak on the prophecies. Many are investigating and seeking the Lord.
Sunday evening about eight hundred attended in the Latin school, where I have hired a room for that evening. I spoke on the salvation of Israel versus the return of the Jews. The previous week I spoke on the millennium. The temporal millennium and age-to come views prevail largely among believers and unbelievers in this city. The truth has gained a victory. Some tell me that their burdens for the old Canaan have rolled off from them. Many are turning their eye of faith to the soon-coming kingdom, and are beginning to understand that probation will soon be ended.
I have never before had so extensive an interest. Bro. Brorsen and myself received one hundred and thirty copies of Advent Tidende for November. They have all gone out among interested readers, and I have not a single copy to send to other parts of Norway. The work is cramped for want of books and papers.
There seems to be more than ten times as much religious interest in this country as in Denmark, and in Sweden the interest is said to be still greater. Many of those who are deeply interested in the truth are Swedes.
Would to God we had a paper here, and facilities for publishing tracts to go out to the starving thousands of this country.
JOHN G. MATTESON.
Osterhausgaden 12, Dec. 9.
Beaverton, Oregon.
By Alonzo T. Jones
WHEN I arrived at Beaverton on January 2, I found the church in affliction by the "buffetings of Satan" who had obtained an advantage of some. But by drawing near to God we soon reached that place where each could look upon his own, and not another's faults, and by contrition of heart, and confession of sins, our God was entreated of us, and soon the church stood free, and took hold, with a mind to work. Every one heartily pledged to the Lord his tithe, and $86,00 were pledged to the British Mission. The Dime Tabernacle was remembered also somewhat "after a godly sort."
Considering that about all the members of this church are poor, and what they do get is by the hardest, I think they have done well, and I hope that their zeal may provoke to emulation a great many others in this District, No. 3. ALONZO T. JONES.
Jan. 5, 1879.
Wisconsin.
By H. W. Decker
At the General Meeting at Hundred-Mile Grove held, December 19 to 23, the following resolutions were passed.
Resolved, That in view of the great amount of good done by the circulation of the SIGNS, we pledge ourselves to renew our efforts to extend its circulation, by clubbing and otherwise.
Resolved, That we heartily approve of the tithing system as set forth in the pamphlet called "Systematic Benevolence, or the Bible Plan of Supporting the Ministry;" and that we recommend all our churches and scattered brethren to begin on the first day of January, 1879, to lay aside a tenth of their income and pay the same into the treasury at the beginning of each quarter, as therein set forth.
Whereas, our Sabbath-schools stand greatly in need of a singing book free from the theological errors of the present age, and whereas upon examination we find the "Song Anchor," published by J. E. White, to be such a book, therefore
Resolved, That we recommend our people to obtain this book to be used in our Sabbath-schools; also, that we recommend Bro. E. M. Crandall to visit Sabbath-schools, introduce the "Song Anchor," give instruction in singing, and labor for the good of the schools; also to canvass for our periodicals in the districts where he may be laboring.
H. W. DECKER.
Cross Plains, Tennessee.
By G. K. Owen
WE have held meetings in three different school-houses since the Kentucky Conference. The people admit the truth almost unanimously, but only a few have the moral courage to do what they know and acknowledge to be their duty. It cheers our hearts to see a few venture out on the promises of God. We praise the Lord and labor on, looking for that "blessed hope." G. K. OWEN.
Good Health.
Fresh and Stale Bread.
EVERY dyspeptic knows that new bread is not easy of digestion. The reason why, has not been clearly stated heretofore by any scientific authority; but recently, the celebrated French chemist, Boussingault, has concluded a series of experiments which show beyond a question that one of the great reasons for the indigestibility of new bread is not its newness, but its temperature. This he proved by placing bread which had been baked six days previous and dried during the whole interval, in the oven again, when it re-acquired all its original properties.
The process of baking produces various mucilaginous substances which, if eaten when warm, forms a pasty mass which in the stomach is formed into small compact masses which are impenetrable by the gastric juice. These portions of food remain in the stomach undigested, and occasion all the inconvenience and irritation which would result from the presence of other foreign bodies in the stomach. The results may be pain in the chest and stomach, disturbance of the circulation, cerebral congestion and pain in the head, irritation and even inflammation of the membranes of the brain, attacks of apoplexy, and even cramp and delirium.—Good Health.
Wives for Bar Keepers.
A singular suggestion was that of a Mr. Campbell in a temperance lecture in Maysville, Ky. It ought to set every bar-room tippler to thinking. He said:—
Bar-rooms are not kept for amusement. There is not a man in the State who would keep a bar if there was no hope for a profit. Let every man who has brains enough to attend to his business determine not to drink at a bar, and the bar-rooms will soon be closed. Men who are ashamed of their habits of drinking, and who must have a screen to hide them, will not often have an opportunity to drink elsewhere, and one great step in the temperance reform will have been taken. Bar keepers in this city pay, on an average, $2 per gallon for whisky. One gallon contains an average of sixty-five drinks, and at ten cents a drink the poor man pays $6.50 per gallon for his wiskey. In other words he pays $2 for the whisky and $4.50 to a man for handing it over a bar. While it would be better for all not to drink, some men will have whisky, and my advice to them is this: Make your wife your bar keeper. Lend her $2 to buy a gallon of whisky for a beginning, and every time you want a drink go to her and pay her ten cents for it. By the time you have drank a gallon she will have $6.50, or enough money to refund the $2 borrowed of you, to pay for another gallon of liquor, and have a balance of $4.50. She will be able to conduct future operations on her own capital, and when you become an inebriate, unable to support yourself, shunned and despised by respectable people, your wife will have enough money to keep you until you get ready to fill a drunkard's grave. But had you paid all this money to a bar keeper, he would not have given a cent to bury you, or a crust of bread to keep your children from starving.
Beer or What?
WITH thousands of others we read with deepest regret the recent announcement of the death of Bayard Taylor, the world-renowned author, recently appointed foreign minister of the United States to Germany. Mr. Taylor was to his immediate acquaintances as famous for the prodigious quantities of lager beer which he consumed as for his brilliant literary productions. We wondered, as we read the announcement of his death, if there was any connection between that event and the fact announced but a few weeks ago that just previous to Mr. Taylor's recent departure for Europe he boasted of having drunk a hundred glasses of lager in a single day.—Good Health.