Marguerite rose early the next morning and went for a walk in a wood near by.
Down at her feet among the waving grasses blossoms peeped lovingly up at her; the stately trees, bending their branches, seemed to whisper words of welcome, while overhead the happy birds sang songs of joy; and her heart was filled with the peace which comes only to one who has chosen “the better part.”
When she returned her mother was standing on the back porch watching for her. After the morning greeting, Mrs. Anderson put both hands on Marguerite’s shoulders, as she stood on the step below her, and, looking straight into her eyes, said, “Is my little girl going to be happy here now?”
“Mother, I am sorry to tell you that it did seem to me for a while that I might not be, but now I know that I have chosen the true happiness, and I am happy,” was the reply in a low tone.
“Yes, daughter, you have indeed found the secret of happiness; but it is hard for me to see you give up your plans. I hope they are not given up, but only put aside for a time.”
“Meanwhile, you have made us very happy. Earnest called me to him a while ago, and asked with a joyous light in his eyes to say that your coming was not all a happy dream that had vanished with the light. Then he asked, ‘O, mother, has she really come to stay?’ Yet, when we received your letter he was even vehement in his remonstrances against your coming, and insisted that I must not, should not, allow it. But I told him that my daughter should do as her conscience bade her, and I knew that then her life could not be unhappy or unsuccessful.”
“But your father will be in for his breakfast, and we must not stay here talking,” and passing her arm about Marguerite they went into the neat kitchen together.
As Mr. Anderson came up the walk he heard a merry laugh, and the care lines relaxed into a smile as he said aloud, “Bless the child! It seems good to hear that sound again;” and all that day he went about his work with a lighter heart than he had carried for many a month.
This was the new beginning of the old life. Marguerite was very busy and found no time for day dreams or vain repinings.
At first she was inclined to neglect her music altogether, but her mother insisted that she should give a definite length of time to it each day, and upon this11point she was very firm. She had at once insisted that she should share her mother’s household duties, and Mrs. Anderson gradually grew to depend upon the willing hands of her daughter.
She was waiting to help her father off with his coat when he came from work, and brought him his slippers afterward, laughing and talking so cheerily all the while, the care-worn expression gave place to an expression of quiet content as he settled back in his large armchair, listening and wondering if there were another girl in the whole wide world as clever as his own.
When she had been asked to sing in the village choir, her first inclination had been to refuse, for she thought somewhat bitterly, “This, then, is to be the end of my musical career. I am granted the privilege of singing in the village choir.” But just then she saw her mother looking at her with a pained expression, and knew she had divined her thought, so she hastened to say pleasantly that she would help them.
But the greater part of Marguerite’s time was given to Earnest, and she fairly grudged the time she must spend away from him. Soon after her return home he had begun to improve, and it was not long before he could walk out to the hammock under the trees, where Marguerite read or talked to him for hours. Later in the summer she drove Earnest’s horse, Gipsy, and took him for short drives often.
All that summer he continued to improve, while his sister cared for him patiently, lovingly, believing she would nurse him back to health and strength again; and imparting to him much of her own cheerfulness.
Madge spent her vacation with them, and it was a happy time for the girls, for both had keenly felt the separation. They took long drives down the shady, country lanes, wandered over the hills and through the wood in search of wild flowers or berries, and picturesque spots for Madge to sketch, and sat under the trees near the house, while Earnest lay in the hammock and listened while they read or talked.
Madge enjoyed every moment of her visit, and the time passed all too quickly. She had sorely missed her friend, and hoped to prevail upon her to accompany her back to the city, now that Earnest seemed on the road to recovery. But Marguerite shook her head, and, looking toward the silent figure seated in a large chair beneath the vine-covered porch, said, while her eyes filled with tears, “My heart’s desire now is my brother’s life. That shall be my first thought, Madge.” Madge did not mention the subject again.
The time which Madge spent in the quiet country home was of great benefit to her in many ways, and she returned to her work strengthened in both body and soul because of the pure, country air, and Christian companionship.
On their way to the station the day of her return to the city, Marguerite stopped Gipsy at a turn in the road on a hill above the little valley, and said, “Now take a look at my valley, Madge, ’ere you go to your heights.”
Madge gave a long look ere she replied softly, “Margie, I know that you have chosen wisely, but I am afraid that I could not have done it.”
Then, as she saw a form going up the garden path, she added, “Perhaps I could if I had a mother like you.” Marguerite made no reply, but put her hand in her friend’s with loving sympathy as they went on their way.
As the autumn days passed, Earnest grew weaker, and Marguerite’s hopes slowly died away, but she did not relax in her efforts to cheer and encourage her dear ones. It was a sad winter for her, but a joy to know she could brighten the dreary days for Earnest. He lived throughout the winter, patiently suffering, and rallied when the warm days of spring came, but Marguerite knew that the improvement was not likely to prove permanent.
This summer they did not take drives together, or spend pleasant hours under the trees. Earnest could sit up but a short time each day, and later in the summer did not leave his bed, but said each day that he was “tired to-day,” but would be stronger by “to-morrow.” Marguerite’s heart was filled with anguish as she saw him grow weaker day by day, and knew that but a short time would be hers to minister to her brother’s needs.
Still, when she saw him suffering so patiently, and heard him speak, as he did so often, of the wondrous glories of the New Jerusalem, and the joy that should be his to dwell with Jesus, and join with the blood-washed throng in praising His name forevermore, she could not murmur that he should soon rest from pain and sorrow.
It was a dark, dreary day in November when Marguerite knew that she could do no more for her brother, but should give her care to the living ones. Then, as she looked on the calm face, she thanked God that she had found out her mistake in time to come back and cheer her brave, unselfish brother’s weary days of suffering.
It was several months later, when Marguerite’s mother told her that she and father had talked the matter over, and had decided that she should return to the city and resume her studies.
Marguerite listened quietly. It was not a surprise to her, she had thought this might come, and had carefully thought it over, and fully made up her mind, so she only asked, “Why, mother, don’t you want me any longer?”
“Marguerite, child, don’t talk of me not wanting you! But it is not right for us to think only of our own wishes. You have been a blessing to us, dear, but you are young, and have your life before you. Nothing could make father and I more unhappy than to stand in your way. Our first wish is that you shall be happy,” said Mrs. Anderson in an eager tone.
“Then do not let me hear you talk of sending me away!” Here Marguerite playfully put a hand over her mother’s mouth to prevent a reply. “Now do not say a word more. When you are tired of me, send me away, but not before.” She stooped to kiss her mother, and hurried away for a ride on Gipsy.
When Mr. Anderson came to the house a little later, and his wife told him of her conversation with Marguerite, he took off his spectacles, then replaced them, and cleared his throat several times before he said, “The idea of you thinking that our girl would leave us alone!” and he found it necessary to again remove his spectacles.
Before the lamp was lighted, before the bright fire, Marguerite told them the contents of the letter from Madge, which she had found awaiting her at the post-office. Madge said that her father had written to ask her to come home, saying that he did not see the use of spending more money on a useless accomplishment which could be of no practical use to any one.
She had written and refused to go home, telling him she would work and starve, if need be, before she would give up her beloved art.
She feared he was greatly displeased for he had not replied to her letter.
Madge concluded her letter by saying, “Marguerite, it is a part of my very self. I can not give it up. I will not. I might have given it up to go to a home like yours, I do not know, but I will not give it up to go to a loveless home. “If I knew he needed me, I might go, but he gave no reason that I acknowledge as a reason. He does not really need me, and I will not go. I will succeed.”
They were silent for a few moments, then Mrs. Anderson said, softly “Poor child, poor child!” and Mr. Anderson was busy for a time putting wood on the fire. At last Marguerite said, “Mother, do you think she is doing very wrong? Madge has grown to care for her art as many do for their homes and dear ones. It has occupied all of her time and thoughts, and it is not strange that she feels as she does.”
“Marguerite, I do not judge her, but I am so sorry for both her and her father. I am sorry for one who has not the influence of a home, and must depend upon ambition or a profession for happiness. Poor, lonely child! I am very sorry for the father who has well nigh lost the blessing of his daughter’s love.”
“It may be that he is actuated by a desire for his daughter’s presence in his home. We can not know. We go on our way so blindly, and sadly misunderstand the motives of one another’s actions.”
“Perhaps Madge’s father is sad and lonely, and longs for his daughter’s love and companionship while he tries to drown the longing by gathering together gold. He may realize that he is losing his daughter’s love, and wish to prevent this by having her come home, but he has made a pitiful blunder in the way he took to bring it about.”
“Try, dear, and lead her to see that her father does really need her, and that her heart should be filled with the Spirit of Him who came ‘not to be ministered unto, but to minister.’ The poorest man in our land is not in greater need of being ministered unto, as it seems to me, than Madge’s father dressed in broadcloth, and dining sumptuously every day.”
“Yes, mother,” said Marguerite, “you are right. You always are. It may be that she can lead him to a happier, better life. She is a girl of strong affections, and it is pitiful that her love should be expended upon a profession.”
Marguerite was silent for some time, thinking of the time when she had been so near putting her music before all else. She sympathized with Madge, and understood her better than any one else. There were times when she now felt weak, and ready to yield, if one should insist upon her continuing her musical education.
Her duties were many, and she was often tired, and at times inwardly murmured against the necessary drudgery and dreary monotony of the farm life, but she did not complain, and was usually well content.
(Concluded next week.)
MOTHER'S ROOM.
He's that boy that lives with his aunt, you know,
I'm awfully sorry for poor Jack Roe;
And he says his house is filled with gloom
Because it has got no “mother's room.”
I tell you what, it is fine enough
To talk of “boudoirs” and such fancy stuff,
But the room of rooms that seems best to me,
The room where I'd always rather be,
Is mother's room, where a fellow can rest,
And talk of things his heart loves best.
What if I do get dirt about,
And sometimes startle my aunt with a shout?
It is mother's room, and if she don't mind,
To the hints of others I'm always blind.
Maybe I lose my things—what then?
In mother's room I find them again.
And I've never denied that I litter the floor
With marbles and tops and many things more;
But I tell you, for boys with a tired head
It is jolly to rest it on mother's bed.
Now, poor Jack Roe, when he visits me,
I take him to mother's room, you see,
Because it's the nicest place to go
When a fellow's spirits are getting low,
And mother, she's always kind and sweet,
And there's always a smile poor Jack to greet,
And somehow the sunbeams seem to glow
More brightly in mother's room, I know,
Than anywhere else, and you'll never find gloom
Or any old shadow in mother's room.
—Anon.
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Matthew Twenty-four
This pamphlet of 94 pages is a systematic, verse-by-verse study of the twenty-fourth chapter of Matthew. It explains quite fully the questions asked by the disciples—“What shall be the sign of Thy coming, and of the end of the world?”
B. S. L. No. 58. Price 10c.
ADDRESS PUBLISHERS OF THIS PAPER.
WITHIN THE ARCTIC CIRCLE.
The California Society of Friends has a mission among the Eskimos, with headquarters at Kotzebue, Alaska, within the Arctic Circle. It was established seven years ago, at which time the natives had little intercourse with the whites, excepting as the whalers traded whisky and tobacco with the unsophisticated people for their furs. Then polygamy was practised, intoxicants were used at every opportunity, and even the children used tobacco.
Now, however, a missionary reports that a visitor would hardly realize that such a condition ever existed. There are about five hundred names on the rolls of the mission churches, and not a case of drunkenness has been seen among them, or any sign of indulgence, for over two years. The use of tobacco has become very unpopular, only a few old people using it at all, and they not openly. The mail-carrier from Nome recently said that Kotzebue was the first town he ever was in where he did not see anybody using tobacco.
The food supply of the missionaries comes mostly from San Francisco, tho there is at most seasons an abundant supply of fresh fish, and some reindeer meat is obtainable. Dr. Sheldon Jackson's plan is to stock Alaska thoroughly with this wonderful animal, and no female deer are allowed to be killed for a period of twenty years. They are exceedingly prolific, and thrive well. There is a herd of several hundred near Kotzebue. There have been no cases of starvation among the people of that region for several years.
The report from which we glean this intelligence was despatched January 13, and was sent 2,000 miles by dog and reindeer teams before reaching an open port. The missionaries are now rejoicing over the privilege of ten mails a year from Nome, which is about four hundred miles to the southwest. The report further says: “In this region the sea is open for navigation about three months each season. The mission has a steam launch that can be used if needed, and natives travel about in their skin boats, lion or walrus hide. For the remaining nine months reindeer and dogs are used for traveling. Last May, the missionary and his wife traveled with reindeer a13distance of 175 miles, over the ice, traveling at night (it is light all night then), and sleeping upon their sleds in the heat of the day. The last zero weather of last year was the 14th of May, the last snow-storm June 4. The thermometer touched the zero mark again October 11, and has been below zero point most of the time since. In January the sun begins to peep above the horizon every day.”
Native African House with Wall and Thatch Roof.
POSSIBILITIES FOR THE AFRICAN.
By Melvin Fraser
[Rev. Melvin Fraser, in Assembly Herald.]
Men tell us that there are no possibilities for the black men, that missionary work in Africa is a waste of time, money, and life. So certain disciples spoke of waste when the alabaster box was broken and the precious ointment poured out. True, the African heathen are very far down in the horrible pit and the miry clay—there have been centuries of sinking. Pen can not tell the sin and the ignorance of them. Even the inspired penman in the first chapter of Romans did not overstate the situation for the Bulu. The native life by itself is shocking. The native unwritten law is eye for eye, and tooth for tooth; at the death of any man of repute, the custom has been to require atonement for the occurrence by human sacrifices, especially of women charged with the crime of witchcraft; women and little girls are bought and sold as goats, or gambled away. Aside from local restraints, governmental or Gospel, it is in the main true; every man is a liar, thief, murderer, adulterer, and every woman a slave and harlot by compulsion of circumstances and custom. O, the pity of this seething mass of helpless depravity!
African House with Wall and Roof Combined,
But can these people be made anything of? Yes, if history can be repeated, and if first-fruits are any prophecy, and if the Gospel is the power of God unto salvation. The native is not a bunch of avoirdupois without brains or backbone in his intellectual and moral anatomy. Under the dirt and nakedness of these black skins there is much to appeal to and develop.
Observation of how the natives, shut entirely off from the world for centuries, and groping in the dim light of nature, meet some of the necessities of life, begets hope for them. A man cuts down a plantain, extracts the fiber, dries it, and twists a strong, neat cord; then he is potter, forming a symmetrical clay pot for water, food, oil; with a jack-knife he carves a cane of ebony or new gun-stock; without nail or saw, he builds a house with parts fitly joined together. He is blacksmith, constructing his bellows and making his charcoal and sometimes digging his ore, and produces an ax, a hoe, knife, pin, or spear. He sings a senseless ditty, and has made the instrument, less or more musical, on which he plays the accompaniment. The native woman weaves her fishing-net, and is at home cooking the many products of her garden. The children in the streets build playhouses and throw the spear skilfully; they draw pictures upon the bark walls of the houses, or upon their own bodies, of all sorts of beasts, birds, reptiles, and have a keen sense of the ludicrous. The missionary who examines these products of the natives’ hand and mind is probably amused, but impressed with the practical and artistic sense which they represent. If the natives can do so many things so well without training, what might they not do with instruction, with higher ideals and nobler motives, and a broader field placed before them?
The average native is nobody’s fool. The European learns, by humiliating experience, to look out for him in bargaining. He is a keen observer, has a good memory, and is not lacking in imagination, tho probably more imitative and mechanical than constructive and original. He loses his head in an emergency, and being of excitable temperament, quickly flies off on a tangent. He is full of surprises that delight or puzzle, and of disappointments that distress or amuse. But he can be taught, and wants to be. He admits his ignorance, and is a docile learner and willing follower into new fields of thought and enterprise.
The native children in school learn quickly and retain well. Boys have been reading the Gospels within a year from the time of knowing that there is an alphabet. Many a boy can tell in his own words, with accuracy and fulness, many of the sayings of Christ, His miracles and parables, circumstances and purpose of birth, crucifixion and resurrection, as well as rehearse teachings and doings of the apostles. The boys and girls, in capacity and progress, compare well with children of similar opportunities in the home land. Many are diamonds in the rough, pearls in the mud—but they absorb like sponges.
The children have a desire to learn. Hungry people do not reach out for food with more eagerness than that with which the boys have been seen to scramble for a scrap of paper or fragment of book, printed in their own speech. They are glad to work thirty-seven hours to buy a primer. In this interior work the time is passed when pupils need to be begged or banged to come to school, and thought they were doing the missionaries a favor by coming. The advantages of knowing how to read and write, and of decorum and manly character, have become advertized and recognized, so that a kind of love of learning has set in, and there is competition for a place in the ranks.
CHARITY'S MANTLE.
By Martha Shepard Lippincott
DO NOT seek another's faults
Without looking for the good,
Or you'll always fail to find
Half the virtues that you should.
Try to credit good you find,
Ever having charity,
For another's faults when seen;
In your hearts let mercy be.
Mercy, love and charity
Can do more uplifting souls
Than the criticizing tongue,
Which ne'er seeks life's higher goals;
So when other's faults you see,
Think what causes might have been
To develop what you may
Criticize and deem a sin.
Then look inward to yourselves,
See how perfect you may be;
Self examine, try to find
Faults in you which others see.
Then the Golden Rule apply,
Meting out to other souls
All the mercy, charity,
Which the love of Christ enfolds.
—Martha Shepard Lippincott.
FUEL IN INDIA.
By W. A. Mansell
[Rev. W. A. Mansell, Bijoor, India.]
There are certain domestic manners and customs which tell more of the real wealth or poverty of a people than volumes of statistics. One of these relates to the quality and quantity of fuel which the common people use. Judged by this mark India is undoubtedly one of the poorest of countries.
There is considerable wood in India, but it is not used for fuel by the common people. The immense forests, which supply wood for building and commercial purposes, are nearly all in submontane tracts, and while they are of great extent themselves, they form but an inconsiderable part of the country, and the wood is too expensive to be used for anything but building of the better class. The plains are dotted over with groves of fruit trees, every village site being easily distinguished by its adjacent groves. Of the common trees the mango is chief in importance. It is easily raised, it may grow to noble proportions, the fruit is abundant and profitable, and the wood is the common building wood of the people—that is, it furnishes the wood for the beams, door frames, etc., of the building; the houses themselves are usually built of mud or cheap brick. But even these groves on the plains furnish little or no fuel for the poor except after a severe windstorm, when the villagers go about gathering up the branches, even to the smallest twigs, which may have fallen.
The common fuel of the poor consists of cakes of cow's dung dried in the sun. One can see everywhere women and children with baskets gathering up the precious material and taking it home to make the fuel cakes. When collected, the women of the household make it up by hand into cakes of convenient size. These are dried in the sun, being usually stuck on the sides of the house, or any convenient wall exposed to the sunshine. The heat produced by them is more intense than that of wood. In burning they emit a peculiar pungent odor, and the smoke is especially trying to the eyes. When it is remembered that the ordinary Indian house has no chimney, but the smoke is allowed to find its way out as best it can, it can readily be imagined what a misfortune it is to be obliged to use this fuel.
In the hot weather, before the rains, extra supplies are made, and when thoroughly dried, are neatly arranged in large conical heaps and covered with a coating of mud plaster mixed with the same material, to be opened and used during the rains.
On market days long lines of women may be seen carrying huge baskets of these fuel cakes on their heads, running along with a swift, even trot. One basket containing fifty, made of the ordinary size, will weigh about forty pounds. They are usually sold at the rate of two annas or two and a half annas (that is, four or five cents) a hundred. There are not many countries where eighty pounds of fuel can be bought for five cents, but it must be remembered that this price means a day's wage for an ordinary day laborer.—World-Wide Missions.
OUR WORK AND WORKERS.
FIVE converts to the faith are reported as a result of labor by Brother C. Sorenson, at Hennessey, O. T.
A CANVASSER in Cleveland, Ohio, recently took twenty-five orders for “Coming King” in twenty-four hours.
A CHURCH of thirteen members was organized at Jerome, Gove Co., Kansas, in the early part of last month, by Brother T. Godfrey.
In the Welcome Visitor, Brother Francis M. Fairchild reports the baptism of four candidates—one at Cygnet (Ohio) and one at Bowling Green.
In the Dakota Worker, Brother Ole P. Norderhus reports that eight persons have accepted the message in Lillehammer, Norway, as a result of his labors.
In the Review we note the following camp-meetings for July: Winchester, Ky., 7-18; Devil’s Lake, N. D., 6-11; Ponoka, Alberta, Can., 12-17; Keene, Texas, 27 to August 7; Statesville, N. C., 29-.
At Brokaw, Ohio, three persons were baptized in the Muskingum River, recently, by Brother F. E. Gibson. He also notes a Sabbath-school of eighteen members held in the home of a Brother Johnson, at Waterford.
On the 7th ult. fifteen persons, and on the 15th eight others, were baptized in Brooklyn, N. Y., by Brother L. H. Proctor. These united with the English church. We have also a Scandinavian and a German church in that city.
THE Welcome Visitor notes that the brethren in Springfield, Ohio, held the first meeting in their new church building, May 14. Altho not fully completed, it was far enough advanced to be available for holding meetings, and at this first meeting every seat was occupied.
THE South African Missionary notes the baptism of eight colored persons at Cambridge, Cape Colony, by Brother D. F. Tarr. A representative of the Kafir paper recently congratulated him on the work he is doing in that locality, and notice of it is being given in the paper.
On the 22d ult. four candidates were baptized by Brother L. E. Johnson, at Oak Grove, Neb. People were gathered from ten miles around, and a large congregation listened to a discourse by Brother A. T. Robinson, president of the conference. Two weeks previous, thirteen persons were baptized at the same place.
FOLLOWING are the officers of Western Washington Conference, elected at the recent annual session: President, E. L. Stewart; secretary and treasurer, Maggie Geissler; assistant secretary, Lela Hoover; state agent, Lee Moran; assistant agent, Wm. Furber; secretary of educational, young people’s, and Sabbath-school work, E. L. MacLafferty.
At the late annual session of Western Oregon Conference the following officers were elected: President, F. M. Burg; secretary and treasurer, W. C. Raley; educational secretary, G. W. Pettit; corresponding secretary educational and Sabbath-school department, Edith Starbuck. The following named brethren constitute the executive committee: F. M. Burg, W. R. Simmons, D. W. Emmerson, J. M. Cole, J. E. Graham, G. W. Pettit, H. J. Dirksen.
THE new sanitarium at Peoria, Ill., is being appreciated by the people of the city, and is wielding a good influence. In the Herald, Brother R. B. Craig says: “We find in this city many who are tired of the drug habit, and are thankful for a better diet. Some have already quit tea, coffee, flesh-meat, etc. Many of our city physicians are co-operating with us. We have a wonderful truth, and many who come to us are exclaiming, ‘Why have we not known this before?’”
At the recent session of the Minnesota Conference, held at Stillwater, the following officers were elected: President, H. S. Shaw; vice-president, O. O. Bernstein; treasurer and transportation agent, C. M. Everest; bookkeeper, Wm. Asp; educational secretary, M. B. Vankirk; Sabbath-school and mission secretary, Ella E. Merrickel; field secretary, W. W. Ruble; executive committee—H. S. Shaw, O. O. Bernstein, C. M. Everest, Fred Johnson, A. Mead, E. W. Catlin, John F. Anderson; trustees of conference association—O. O. Bernstein, Wm. Asp, and J. F. Pague.
At the recent meeting of the Lake Union Conference, held at Berrien Springs, Mich., the following officers were chosen: President, Allen Moon; vice-president, Wm. Covert; secretary and treasurer, W. H. Edwards; field secretary, J. B. Blosser; educational secretary, M. Bessie DeGraw; training-school representative, P. T. Magan; missionary secretary, D. W. Reavis; publishing work representative, I. H. Evans; sanitarium work representative, Dr. D. Paulson; German work representative, C. L. Herrmann; Scandinavian work representative, L. H. Christian; field secretary of religious liberty work, D. W. Reavis; auditor and business agent, W. H. Edwards.
JULY 2.
By W. T. Bland
The first Sabbath in July is the time the regular mid-summer offering is taken for the support of our work in foreign fields. The annual offering which is made at the time of the week of prayer and the mid-summer offering are the two general offerings made during the year for this purpose.
The carrying of the message proclaiming to the world the soon-coming Saviour, is by far the greatest work before us—the one great work in which every Seventh-day Adventist is most deeply interested. Not every one can leave his home or country to assume the burdens of this work in a foreign field, but everyone can have an active part in it by contributing liberally to help speed those on who are so fitted and trained that they can go.
No other church or denomination is taking so active an interest in foreign missions to-day as is ours. In the great interests at stake, the wonderful importance of the work, and the love we have for it, may we not only keep up this interest already aroused, but greatly increase it.
Last year this offering amounted to more than ten thousand dollars; this year it could easily be doubled; and what an encouragement and help it would be to our brethren, who are sacrificing everything as they leave their home to go to these dark parts of the earth.
As this offering is taken in our churches we would suggest that special prayers be offered for our brethren in foreign lands, that their courage may be kept good and their work pushed on with vigor.
We are confident that as our people are interested in foreign missions, they will make this a most liberal offering. Should any individual or any church desire to assist some special field in which they have a particular burden, let mention of the matter be made with the offering.
May the Lord greatly bless His people at this time, not only with means to help forward His work and hasten His coming, but with willing hearts and rich experiences.
W. T. BLAND, Assistant Treasurer of the Gen. Conf. 22 North Capitol Street, Washington, D. C.
AN ITALIAN EVANGELIST.
By F. H. Wright
To speak of an evangelist in the United States is to speak of one who is given up to special evangelistic work. Such a man is honored by the church, and, if he be wise and consecrated, he is respected by the general public as one who helps considerably in the leavening of the body politic. Moody was deservedly honored for his evangelistic efforts.
Here in Italy, however, a man who becomes an evangelist is immediately the target for abuse, ridicule, and persecution. He is not an evangelist as a means of living, but, genuinely converted, he seeks to spread the knowledge of the truth. He knows he will be despised for his earnest efforts, but none of these things move him. He has been cleansed from his sins, and he must tell others. Such an evangelist we had the pleasure of meeting in one of our churches.
In the city where Tacitus was born [Terni] this worthy successor of the apostles follows his business, dealing honestly with all men, and adds to his business that of preaching the Gospel wherever he goes. He is a Neapolitan by birth, a splendid specimen of a man physically, but he can neither read nor write. He never fails to be present at all our services, and by sheer effort of memory he learns the hymns and the scriptures, and is always in season with the right word. His brethren in the church call him a saint, and in a country where saints are only recorded in the calendar, it has special significance.
Recently I held the Quarterly Conference. “Saint” Antonio was present, and gave his report as class leader. It was touching to hear him say: “Brethren, I am a poor, ignorant fellow; I can neither read nor write, and so can not present a written report; but I love the Lord, and I have done my duty as a class leader.” Then in a modest but most effective manner he recounted his work for the quarter, and it was inspiring to see how the brethren hung on his lips. The pastor told me that wherever he goes he continually witnesses for Christ. If he hears any one blaspheming, he will approach him kindly and show the wickedness of such an act in a manner that commands respect. If he hears any one calling upon the Madonna in an impious way, he will take advantage of the occasion to show the uselessness of praying to Mary, and exhorts them to call upon the name of the Lord. His face, always lit up with a bright, happy smile, suggests the true enjoyment of his religion, and Terni, steeped in ignorance and superstition, is a better city for the beautiful Christian life of this uncalendared saint.—Rev. F. H. Wright.
