PERHAPS the most significant point in this last instance of Sunday legislation by Congress—the provision for closing the proposed exposition at Portland, Oregon, on that day—was the appeal to precedent in justification of the legislation. The chief, and about the only, argument in behalf of the Sunday-closing amendment was that "the Senate and Congress have once adopted this principle, have once recognized the sabbath," and that "Congress ought not to recede from that proposition," that "Congress, once having taken that stand, ought not to recede from it." Here we have revealed the danger of this thing. One violation of principle affords an excuse and justification for another; an evil principle once adopted, an evil precedent once established, is always ready to justify more and more violation of principle, and to lead further and further into the course of evil, and prevent return therefrom. So Congress having committed itself to the evil principle of "sabbath" legislation, the ready argument and contention now is, when it is asked to recommit itself and go further, that already it has "taken that stand," and "ought not to recede from it." And thus precedent blocks the return to principle. And what measure in recognition and enforcement of the "sabbath" may not be justified by "this principle" which "the Senate and Congress have once adopted"? Ah! and what measure of any sort, for the maintenance and enforcement by the Congress of the United States of religion or anything pertaining thereto, does not have in it a basis and precedent?
Sunday Law Cases in Danville
At Danville, Va., on February 17, sixty-two persons, foremen and laborers engaged on the $2,000,000 plant of the Dan River Power and Manufacturing Company, in course of construction a mile above Danville, were arraigned on the charge of violating the Sunday law by laboring on the preceding Sunday. An adjournment was taken before the hearing of the cases was completed. It was claimed that "the work is essential, and that the works can not be completed without some Sunday work."
A WAR OF CONTINENTS, AND EVEN MORE.
By G. B. Thompson
BY G. B. THOMPSON.
UNDER the above heading, the Toronto World, of Feb. 18, 1904, speaks as follows concerning the terrible possibilities of the present struggle in the Far East:—
Are we about to witness the most stupendous drama that ever was enacted upon the face of the globe in the way of a struggle of the races for supremacy? Are we to see the maps of Europe and of Asia blotted out for a moment; and then completely recast and redrawn with much fewer lines? Is there to be, in the almost immediate future, a gigantic struggle between the nations of the world?
No one who is watching the war now begun between Japan and Russia, and who is a student of what is going on in other quarters, will be surprised at almost anything happening. Let us present a few significant facts:—
First of all, Great Britain is bound by treaty to assist Japan if two nations attack her, and by a somewhat similar treaty France is to come to the aid of Russia. So that a small act may involve our own empire and the Republic of France, making four great powers in the struggle. And four being in, others must follow.
Germany would seize the opportunity. She has an autocratic emperor, a man with a policy and with an immense fighting machine, naval and military, and a full war-chest behind him. William knows what he wants, and those about him have a similarly clear idea of what they would like to see as Germany's future. Germany is only waiting for a favorable moment to expand: to seize Holland and Denmark in the way of extension toward the west, and her desire to extend to the southeast implicates Austria and probably a portion of Turkey, bordering on the Black Sea. The German people also have a dream in regard to the Holy Land, Syria, even reaching out in the direction of Persia. Let a world-war of races begin, and Germany will try to emerge from it as a great belt of territory from the Atlantic to the Adriatic and Black Seas.
In Asia the situation is extremely critical. China could, on the instant, be put into a political ferment, and Japan acquire such influence as to establish a Japanese dynasty and leadership of five hundred millions of yellow people. These five hundred millions turned against Russia to the north might substantially check that great empire's movement in the direction of the Pacific.
All the yellow people in a blaze might set the millions and millions of native subjects of Britain in India in a state of unrest, and seriously question English power in the East.
Any of the possibilities that might take place are of a most surprising character, and some of them are probable events. Russia and Germany, for instance, could agree to rearrange the map of Europe, driving the Turk across the Dardanelles, and they might be assisted in this by France. China and Japan, reorganized under Japanese leadership, might declare the doctrine of Asia for Asiatics, and, especially if aided by Russia, might drive all other European nations off that continent.
The United States stands midway between the two continents. Even that country, that was isolated in the past, has recently taken on imperial habiliments, and might see its way to enter into the struggle.
A war of great nations and races and a war of continents may yet be the outcome of the conflagration started the other day between Japan and Russia.
Just what will be the outcome of the present war between Japan and Russia no one can accurately foresee. A prominent man said, a few days ago, that the peace of the world was gone forever. It may be so. One thing is certain, we have reached the time when the "nations are angry," and the wrath of a long-suffering God is impending. The perils of the last days are here; men's hearts are failing them for fear, as they see trouble coming on the earth. These things all speak to us of the nearness of the end, and solemnly admonish us to prepare for the coming of Him whose right it is to rule. No matter what turn events in the Far East may take at present, the final and terrible struggle of Armageddon will not long be delayed.
Sunday Legislation and Religious Liberty
The observance of Sunday is a religious exercise, and therefore for Congress to require anybody or anything to observe Sunday is just as offensive and repugnant to American principles as it is for Congress to require "the holding of devotional exercises and sacred concerts." This fact does not seem to have been sufficiently appreciated in the discussion in the Senate even by those who opposed the Sunday-closing amendments. Public men are not as sensitive to the violation of principle on this point of Sunday legislation as they are on other points that are of exactly the same character. The retention of Sunday laws in American legislation is largely responsible for this.
THE WAR IN THE ORIENT.
THE Japanese continue to bombard the fortifications of Port Arthur and Vladivostok, but reports are very contradictory as to the damage occasioned by the bombardments. From one source comes word that the forts at Port Arthur are three-fourths reduced, while from another source, the report that the results of the various bombardments are utterly insignificant. The new Russian naval commander at Port Arthur, on taking command of the fleet at that place, immediately set to work to remove the battleship Retvizan from the harbor entrance so as to permit the other ships to pass out and in. This done, a fleet of torpedo-boats was sent out to find the enemy. An engagement took place in which the Japanese lost one torpedo-boat and had a cruiser disabled, while the Russians lost a torpedo-boat destroyer. The admiral himself went to the rescue of the destroyer, but the opposing force was too great, and she was abandoned. This dash of the Russian fleet has aroused the hopes of the Russians. The northern Japanese fleet is still looking for the Russian Vladivostok squadron, whose whereabouts is unknown. It is rumored that two Russian squadrons are trying to get together at Port Arthur.
The Japanese continue to despatch troops to Korea and to advance toward the Russian positions those already in that country. There have been reports of several small engagements between outposts and scouting parties, but no battle has yet been fought between main bodies of the belligerents. General Kuropatkin has left St. Petersburg to take complete charge of military operations in the Far East. He is reported to have declared that after driving the Japanese out of Manchuria and Korea, Russia will take Japan herself. He expects to have an army of 400,000 men in Manchuria when the real battles of the campaign begin, which will probably be some time in April.
MORE ABOUT FOOTBALL.
By Editor
WE quoted recently from two physicians, who contributed to Our Dumb Animals some striking facts and observations on football. In the same issue of that little journal was the following from its editor, Geo. T. Angell:—
On January 16 we received a letter giving the experiences of one of our football elevens, from which we take the following:—
"The game as now played is war—fighting." [Sometimes bets to large amounts depend on the result.]
"The best opposing player is to be put out of the game if possible."
"Under the heap the public see little of the real slugging going on—throwing sand in the eyes, etc., etc."
"It is a real battle, and if the facts were generally known, I think something would be done to stop it."
The above is given us in confidence that we will not use the name of the player.
To the above we add:—
1. That every policeman in Boston was ordered to be on duty all night in case Harvard had beaten Yale.
2. Our strongest objection to this modern football game is not the physical injuries of the fighters, or the ten thousand gambling bets, but that it tends to build up in our educated young men a spirit of fighting, which has already cost us in the unnecessary war about Cuba (which Spain was willing to abandon without firing a single gun) and the unnecessary war about the Philippines, which Spain was glad to sell for twenty millions of dollars, and both of which have cost us not only great unnecessary destruction of human and animal life and hundreds of millions of dollars, but a large pension list for the next fifty years—a spirit of fighting, which may cost us in the not very distant future more than a hundred thousand lives, a billion of dollars, and perhaps sooner than we expect the destruction of our American Republic, and the formation of a government, in which half the men will be enrolled in standing armies to keep the other half in subjection.
3. Looking at many of our colleges, as they now are, and seeing how rapidly they are building up this fighting spirit, and how little they are doing to educate their undergraduates humanely, and considering the conflicts likely to come up, not only with foreign nations but between capital and labor in our own, we can not help being reminded (as we were at the close of the talks about comparatively unimportant matters of our great national convention of teachers in Boston last summer) how Nero fiddled while Rome was burning.
Mormon Political Power and War Hardships
In the testimony given during the week before the Senate Committee in the case of Senator Reed Smoot, of Utah, it has been brought out that the president of the Mormon Church is supreme over the members of that church in the matter of politics; that members must vote according to the dictates of the church, or suffer its serious disfavor. This testimony will have more bearing on Senator Smoot's case than that given during the previous week on the matter of polygamy. A move is now being made in Salt Lake to create a new party which will endeavor to break the political power of the Mormon Church in Utah politics. It is to work in direct opposition to any candidate which may be favored by the church; but it is a fact that in all but three of the counties of that state the Mormons are in the majority.
One of the sad conditions of the present war in the Orient is the suffering brought about among the Chinese of Manchuria through the taking of their homes by the Russian troops. The people are driven from their homes that the soldiers may have lodgings, and generally the people are poor, and unable to provide comfortable accommodations elsewhere. Adding to this the fact that the weather is very severe, and that provisions of all kinds are being taken by the troops, one can imagine something of the hardships which the inhabitants are now undergoing.
Property damage to the extent of more than a million dollars is reported from the Wyoming Valley, in Pennsylvania, and over two thousand families have been rendered homeless. Industries all along the river have been closed down on account of the floods. The business portion of Plymouth was inundated, and families living in the flooded section were unable to leave their homes for higher ground on account of the rapid rise of the water.
The discontented elements in Russia are making the most possible of that government's distress in the Far East. The revolutionists are posting up circulars in prominent places in St. Petersburg, urging the people not to pay the war tax nor to make contributions to assist in the military operations. There is said to be among a large portion of the Russian population a distrust of the government, especially as to the wisdom of the present war.
The Japanese Government is urging upon the Korean emperor the necessity of his proclamation of the recent treaty between Korea and Japan. It seems that Korea has not yet advised the other nations that such a treaty has been concluded, and Japan fears that this may work against her interests in the future unless the proclamation is speedily given.
The race disturbances in the city of Springfield, Ohio, are being held in check by the presence of thirteen companies of the state militia. Negro agitators are urging the negroes to avenge the lynching of the colored criminal and to burn the white residence and business districts in retaliation for the burning of the negro quarters on the levee.
France is beginning active work in strengthening her coast fortifications, and the German press is urging haste in the completion of Germany's naval program, and other nations are looking to the perfection of their powers of offense and defence. So the world is getting ready for its great battle.
The report of Fourth Assistant Postmaster-General Bristow called out a storm of protest and indignation in the House of Representatives on March 9, and from the remarks of the congressmen it is evident that an investigation of the entire Post-office Department will be ordered.
Officials of the Grand Trunk Railroad have deposited $5,000,000 in the bank of Montreal to the credit of the finance minister as a guarantee for the construction of the Grand Trunk Pacific Railroad, which is to parallel the Canadian Pacific across the Dominion of Canada.
President Roosevelt has thought it necessary to caution all officials to abstain from any act or speech which might irritate either of the powers at war in the East. The caution is published as an executive order, and applies to all officials, civil, military, and naval.
Further rioting has been reported from Kishineff, Russia, where mobs have been parading the streets of the Jewish quarter, smashing windows, looting houses, and beating men and women. The mobs were finally dispersed by the military.
The Senate has ratified the treaty recently concluded with Emperor Menelek, of Abyssinia. The treaty is to last ten years, and provides for trading posts and telegraphs and various means of transportation in Menelek's territory.
A despatch from Rome states that six Italian villages were destroyed by an earthquake on March 10. The inhabitants are now living in tents. No lives were lost.
AN ANCIENT CUSTOM AGAIN TO THE FRONT.
A FEW centuries ago governments were wont to set the prices of things—wages, live stock, agricultural products, etc. Under later policies this was not deemed legitimate business; it was a species of paternalism in government that did not harmonize with liberty on the part of the masses. As freedom of action gained recognition, the law of supply and demand became the common law, and has been deemed the only proper method of estimating values among civilized peoples. But there is a strong tendency toward a departure from this principle, and it is one of the most prominent omens of a radical change in the character of our government. The law of supply and demand is being perverted from the law of natural demand and natural supply to a condition of manipulated supply and a consequently agitated demand. At times when there is a greater natural demand, the natural supply is cornered and withheld, so that, no matter how ample it may be in actual quantity, the available or manipulated supply is comparatively small. Thus the natural demand is augmented, while the natural supply is restricted. This is the result of monopoly—the trust system in business on the one hand, and union-laborism on the other hand. Only the principle of monopoly, tolerated by the government, could produce such results.
Now comes the proposed remedy—the much-lauded cure-all—arbitration. It is well known that two parties can not arbitrate unless both parties consent, so we hear more or less talk of compulsory arbitration. What does that mean?—It means that the government, state or national, shall provide by law for arbitration, and, as has been done in some instances, appoint arbitration commissioners. And what does this lead to?—Well, for instance, there is a disagreement about wages; the parties can not agree on arbiters, or, for some other reason, the government has to settle the matter; and what is that but the government fixing wages for a given kind of work? Should the labor-union system become general, and should the capital-combination system become a little more firmly established, and the compulsory arbitration system become the generally recognized basis of industrial harmony, there will, consequently, be established the government's paternal control. When it begins the work of fixing prices, there will be no logical end to it.
Then what would be a remedy for industrial extortion and tyranny?—The remedy would be in the Golden Rule if the spirit of it were in the people. But the Golden Rule, being the essence of the second table of the law of God, is "weak through the flesh." It can not operate where the will is against it. If this were indeed what some claim for it, a "Christian nation," there would be no capital trusts or labor trusts, or any problem that the parties in interest could not solve to the satisfaction of all.
As this is not a "Christian nation," the civil government must act as a regulator. Now we may not be able to say just what the government is able to do under present circumstances; but we all know that there was a time when such conditions did not exist in this country, and if the government had prevented the rise of monopolistic trusts, both of capital and labor, instead of tacitly fostering them, it would not now be on the road back to the ancient policy of prescribing valuations for the people. Prohibition of dishonest, tyrannical methods is a far more logical protection of natural rights than futile attempts to regulate evils that have become rooted and grounded by toleration.
It is hardly probable that the government will retrace its steps; for, in addition to the paternalism popularly called for in settlement of the capital and labor controversy, it has also started on the line of compulsory religion, and is being urged on to further dictation in this line. Both these movements indicate a wide departure from original principles; they are ominous signs of the times. The conditions to which we have been gradually advancing in the last quarter century are not by any means the least potent agencies in causing the "perplexity" that the nations are to experience just before the coming of the Lord. Verily, "the coming of the Lord draweth nigh."
SYMPATHY WITH THE CHILDREN.
By Mrs. L. D. Avery-Stuttle
BY MRS. L. D. AVERY-STUTTLE.
OVER across the way the badge of sorrow and mourning is hanging on my neighbor's door, and fluttering in the idle wind. Without, all is astir; the wheels of traffic are moving as lively as ever. The teamster shouts to his horses; the children play in the streets; the man of business hurries to his office, while the shriek of the locomotive and the hum of commerce proclaim the fact that the world is moving on.
But inside the little house, how different! Everything is at a standstill. Grief sits upon every face. Instead of merry voices, are heard only the hushed accents of woe. The light of the household has gone out, and grief lays her paralyzing fingers on heart and brow. In the darkened room lies a little child. A week ago his merry laugh brought life and light into the home.
"O, how I loved him, my darling boy!" moans the white-faced mother; "but I fear I never made him understand it,—and now it is too late. Don't you remember the day he came home from school, crying over his sums, father? It was only one little week ago. Yes, O, yes; too well I remember his asking me to help him, while his voice trembled with childish pain, and his sweet eyes were full of tears; but I only laughed at him, and called him a baby; so he finally went to grandma for comfort and sympathy, dear little fellow." God pity the fathers and mothers in whose hearts remorse must be added to the cup of sorrow.
Every human heart responds to true, unaffected sympathy, I care not how hardened the heart may be. And especially is the fresh and innocent heart of childhood keenly sensitive and highly susceptible to it. Even the dullest child seems to understand the sweet language of love, and to respond to it.
Years ago I was teaching in a country school. I well remember that among my pupils was a little girl almost an imbecile. Yet poor Maggie was very affectionate, and always appreciated every little kindness and every expression of sympathy which I offered her. "Well," says some one complacently, "I can't understand the careless neglect of some parents. Now my children never ask me for assistance in any way, without my cheerfully granting it. I love my children!"
Yes; but how about the children of somebody else! When little Zeb. McGee, whom everybody calls "Ragged Zeb.," fell from your cherry tree last summer, as he was filling his hungry little stomach with your choice juicy fruit, didn't you declare it served him right, tho you knew the fall had hurt the poor child badly? And didn't you drive him away roughly, and threaten him with the police, until he ran off, limping and whimpering in the very abandon of misery?
"Poor little fellow! I've no doubt he was hungry," said your more sympathetic wife.
"Dirty little thief! better not let me catch him in my cherry tree again!"
Ah! is this the spirit of Him who came to seek and to save the lost? My brother, you and I must learn the lesson of unselfishness so completely that our love will take in the whole miserable, sin-sick, suffering, hungry world, or we can never enter that country whose inhabitants know not of selfishness.
And it is not enough that we sympathize with the little ones in their childish griefs. They need our love and encouragement as much in their ambitions and aspirations as in their sorrows. When Willie comes home from school bringing a little picture he has made, and proudly holds it up for your inspection and commendation, don't laugh at him, and make fun of his work; encourage the boy,—and, indeed, he would not resent criticism, if kindly and courteously given,—he will profit by it. Don't laugh at Mary because she has an ambition to be a writer,—don't! And don't tell her how much better you could do at her age, or how much better some other little girl can do. Sympathize with her aspirations, and wisely and gently guide her ambitions in the right channel. If I shall ever see any soul over in the kingdom of God who has been saved through the humble instrumentality of my poor pen, I shall lead that soul to my dear parents first of all, and bid him thank them for encouraging me in my childhood to make a right use of the talent God so kindly gave me.
Then, there are the plain children. Frankie has a freckled face; at school the children laugh at him, and one pretty little girl, with a complexion like a lily, makes his freckles the constant butt of ridicule. One night he came home actually crying. One of the older children told his mother what the trouble was, for Frankie could not be induced to speak—he dreaded to call attention again to his freckles—and what did his mother do? how did she proceed to comfort her sensitive boy?—O, she laughed at him, and called him a silly child.
Unwise mother! no wonder that Frankie is getting to be a disagreeable boy, and that his parents complain that they can not manage him. One day his father, in a most unnatural spirit of teasing, called him "Frankie Freckle," and then, because he retaliated, whipped him for being saucy!
Foolish father! If Frankie does not bring down your gray hairs with sorrow to the grave, you will surely have to change your tactics, and make haste about it.
But all fathers and mothers, I am rejoiced to say, are not so unwise.
Little Lizzie has the misfortune of being cross-eyed. Of course this subjects her to a great deal of humiliation, and her defective eyesight causes her much trouble. But Lizzie has learned to bear her misfortune bravely, because she finds at home a refuge and sweet, tender sympathy. What if her eyes do look badly? Why, her own mama actually kisses them and calls them "dear little eyes!"
But if there is any one who demands a most generous share of sympathy, it is the sickly child. Some member of the family is almost sure to misunderstand him. Instead of sympathy, he gets harsh words and sometimes even punishment.
"Mother, can't you make Sadie help me with the dishes?"
"Go on, Sadie," echoes the impatient voice of the mother in tones of command. "Hurry up and help Milly with her work. Really, you are so slow, child, you try me terribly. I sincerely trust you, aren't lazy!"
"That's just what she is, ma," replies Milly, a plump, rosy little maid, the picture of health. "Sadie always tries to get out of the work if she can."
Meantime, poor Sadie, with tears in her dull eyes, and a flush on her pale cheeks, hurries to the kitchen table as fast as the pain in her side will let her. Poor child! the pain in her side hurts sorely, but the pain in her heart hurts worse.
Again I say, "Foolish mother!"
What has been said about children applies equally to those of riper years, who are indeed only boys and girls "grown tall."
O my brother! my sister! what the world needs to-day more than anything else, is not money, or grand houses, or splendid equipage, or fine libraries. O, no! this sad old world is weary; it is heartsick; it is waxing old like a garment; and its crying need is for sympathy,—sympathy that will reach as far as the pocket-book, if necessary,—sympathy that is sincere and all-embracing.
The key to all the troubles that ever arise in the home life, or in any other, for that matter, is selfishness; in other words, lack of sympathy for others. If we have sympathy in our hearts, it is verily impossible not to manifest it, and it is this manifestation which brings happiness and joy with it.
Then let us include in our love and prayers and tender sympathy, the whole sorrowing world. This is Christlike; and nothing less than this is Christian.
'Twas sympathy that brought the Christ
From far-off heaven's eternal throne
To this dark world to die for man,—
'Twas sympathy and love alone.
WHAT AUNT MARTHY LEFT OUT.
By Anna M. Cune
I DON'T believe anybuddy lives, gettin' old as we, and looks back over life without wishin' they might live it over again. They can see so many things—well, not "lost" (for you can't lose something you've never had), but kind o' left out of their lives. Now, I ain't envyin' other people their good things, money, nor fine clothes, nor easy times (if you can't get 'em, envyin' only makes it worse), but things I might have had and didn't, till it was too late to make over and fill up the chinks o' my life with just the left-out things.
"Some of 'em?" Well, I think I might o' had more of sunshine. Now that the children's all grown up, I kind o' wish I'd raised 'em different some way. They're good, respectful children, every one of 'em, but I miss somethin', and I think they do, an' we can't either of us change it now. And lookin' round I can see other homes in which 'twas missed, too, an' seein' how 'twas, I'd like to help others just commencin' to plant their rose-garden of a home in the world-wilderness. I've come to think you can make lots of things a habit—puttin' 'em in even if it is harder to do it and easier to leave 'em out. An' I can see now that's how we left some of the sunshine out, for the love atmosphere to the children is like the sunshine to the unfoldin' buds. You can't see how or why, but it perfects 'em.
We read lots about the duty of "inculcatin' love of homes," and yet them writers are never practical enough to tell us how to do it. I've figured out for myself where I missed it in my "inculcatin'." In our family it wasn't really a lack of love, but a lack of expressin' it. Like the sun under a cloud, you know 'tis there, but it don't shine. We all just seem to avoid any demonstration of affection or feelin', as if 'twas sort o' foolish or weak-minded. We knew under this reserve was the same depth of home love and tenderness, but I tell you it took some great extremity of trouble to bring it to the surface, an' then it was too awkward in expression to be understood. We, John and I, give the babies kissin' and pettin', but let them grow away from11us by growin' up. I never noticed the first time my boy was big enough to be ashamed to kiss me, or my girl to climb into my lap. I was too work-distracted to play or plan with 'em, so the pleasure of their child-life was "left out" of mine.
First I noticed was when I went back to Ohio last fall. John got my ticket, and checked my trunk, and then he come to the car window; 'twas the first time I'd ever been away since we was married, but he just says, "Good-by, Marthy; take keer of yourself," and when I came back, my big boy, Charlie, says, "Hello, mother!" Didn't I know they'd missed me every meal they set down to, and was glad to see me back? An' if I did, why should I care that they never said so? Well, mebbe because just then a pretty picter came into my mind of my sister, that I'd gone to visit, sittin' in her rocker, and her big boy bendin' over to kiss her an' tell her what a good mother she was. At the time, it struck such an actual pain of longin' through my heart that I had to go to the winder to hide my tears. No, it isn't the difference in people, either; 'tis all in the raisin', for sister was jest as busy dressin' and feedin' and washin' her houseful as I was, but she had her ideals, and she never let the "kisses," and "pleases," and "thank you's," and "dears" slip out of the home life, or let those barriers of restraint grow up instead, as I did; and this is just my advice: Don't leave 'em out, or you'll miss it all, as I do now.
Well, I'll finish tellin' you now of those left-out things; of course not all. The things that come sharpest is to see other people a-puttin' of 'em in.
I think I missed some of the poetry of life. I never made a rhyme an' I don't want to, but I believe the love of beautiful things is a sort of poetry in every soul. 'Taint so much what you have to look at as the eyes you see with. So many times I looked up at the clouds, an' out to the green fields, an' only thought of weather and crops, and so let that tender little beauty-lovin' plant die out for want of cultivation.
"If I had it to go over?" Well, I think I'd put some of the sweet summer and bracin' winter into my life instead of so much quilt-piecin' and extra scrubbin'; an' I'd put some new thoughts from books into my mind to talk about. I'd find some time to lie under the trees just to think; an' I wouldn't be a-thinkin' how to make my new calico, nor what to get for supper, either; an' sometimes I'd let the dishes wait washin' a few minutes, an' sit down and talk with John and the boys in their noonin'.
Well, another thing I missed for a long time was the music of life. I ain't no musician, an' can't carry a tune, but I might 'a' had music all the way if I would. Somehow I guess I started with my heart set to what you call a minor chord. I always saw only the sad and dark side of things, an' got in a way of complainin' and frettin' till I slid down in that tone constantly. An', my goodness! how it affects everything and everybody round you, and yourself, too, till it flats even what might have been good notes, and spoils them. It was a good many years before I learned to let the Master Musician tune my heart to sing His praise; but when it was once set to the key-note of joy, how it did change the world for me!
I learned a lesson from a little school-teacher who used to, in going past, call to me over the garden-fence. Just a simple, "Good morning," but the cheerful courage, the hope, the inspiration to live and help others live, that she could put in those two words! There may have been blues, headaches, and nerves, but if so she bravely kept them back, and the music that crept out through her voice seemed to say, "Keep sweet! Keep the soul-life on top!"
An' so I've come to think that sweetness of temper and cheerfulness are not a matter of nature, but habit. It's just like killin' out the nasty weeds in your garden; it takes hoein' and careful watchin' to keep it clean; but you're glad when it's done.—Anna M. Cune.
THE QUIET HOUSE.
By Alma Pendexter Hayden
O MOTHER, worn and weary
With cares which never cease,
With never time for pleasure,
With days that have no peace,
With little hands to hinder,
And feeble steps to guard,
With tasks that be unfinished,
Deem not your lot too hard.
I know a house where childish things
Are hidden out of sight—
Where never sound of little feet
Is heard from morn till night—
No tiny hands that fast undo,
That pull things all awry—
No baby hurts to pity
As the quiet days go by.
The house is all in order
And free from tiresome noise—
No moments of confusion,
No scattered, broken toys;
And the children's little garments
Are never soiled or torn,
But are laid away forever
As when they last were worn.
And she, the sad-eyed mother,
What would she give to-day
To feel your cares and burdens,
To walk your weary way!
Ah! happiest on all this earth
Could she again but see
The room all strewn with playthings,
And the children 'round her knee.
—Alma Pendexter Hayden.
THE IMMENSE COPPER WEALTH OF THE UNITED STATES.
IN an article on "Modern Methods of Finance," in the December Pearson's, Mr. Henry George, Jr., speaks of our great copper interests as follows:
"Modern copper mining began in the United States about 1845. In that year our total production was estimated to be about one hundred tons. More than a tenth of this was produced in Michigan. Copper mining in many of the states rapidly developed, but nowhere so rapidly as in Michigan, which in 1880 yielded more than four-fifths of the output of the country.
"Then it was that Montana began its phenomenal mineral development. By 1892 its copper production exceeded that of bountiful Michigan. Arizona's copper development came later. Toward the close of the nineties, the copper mines in the United States exceeded annually eighty million dollars in value, which rivaled our gold yield, and far surpassed our petroleum. We had come to produce more copper than all the rest of the world combined, and hence our product commanded the world's market.
"This country's enormous copper yield came mainly from three districts, in the following order: The Butte region; Silver Bow County, Montana; the Lake Superior peninsula of Michigan, where it is richest; and the triangular region in southeastern Arizona, marked by Clifton, Bisbee, and Globe."
WHY HE DID NOT DRINK.
I READ the other day of four young men riding in a Pullman car, chatting merrily together. At last one of them said:—
"Boys, I think it's time for drinks."
Two of them consented; the other shook his head and said:—
"No, I thank you."
"What!" exclaimed his companion, "have you become pious? Are you going to preach? Do you think you will become a missionary?"
"No, fellows," he replied, "I am not specially pious, and I may not become a missionary; but I have determined not to drink another drop, and I will tell you why. I had some business in Chicago with an old pawnbroker, and as I stood before his counter talking about it, there came in a young man about my age, and threw down upon the counter a little bundle. When the pawnbroker opened it, he found it was a pair of baby shoes, with the buttons a trifle worn. The old pawnbroker seemed to have some heart left in him, and he said: 'Look here, you ought not to sell your baby's shoes for drink.' 'Never mind, Cohen; baby is at home dead, and does not need the shoes. Give me ten cents for a drink.' Now, fellows, I have a wife and baby at home myself, and when I saw what liquor could do in degrading that husband and father, I made up my mind that, God helping me, not a drop of that stuff would ever pass my lips again."—Exchange.
THEY PROVED IT.
By G. Campbell Morgan
SOME years ago I was at work in Hull, England. God was giving us gracious seasons of refreshing, and a man came to me one night and said:—
"Do you know the strangest thing has happened to me!"
Said I: "What has happened?"
He said: "I am a cabinet-maker, and I work at a bench, and another man works by my side. He has worked by my side for five years. I thought I would like to get him to come to some of these meetings, and this morning I summoned up courage and said to him, 'Charlie, I want you to come along tonight to some meetings we are having down in Wilberforce Hall.' He looked at me and said, 'You don't mean to say you are a Christian?' and I answered, 'Yes, I am.' 'Well,' he said, 'so am I.'"
This man said to me, "Wasn't it funny?"
"Funny!" said I, "no. Is he here? for if so, both you and he want to get down here and start. You never have been born again."
It is an absolute impossibility for two men born again of the Spirit, filled with the Spirit, to work side by side for five years, and neither one or the other find it out. If one man is a Christian and the other isn't, the man that isn't will soon see the difference in the work the Christian man does. Christian men do pure, strong work, and the best work in the world.—Rev. G. Campbell Morgan.