Earlier text: OPPRESSIONS AND THE COMFORTEROUR LONDON LETTER,
By M. Ellsworth Olsen
The Imperialistic Trend—Lessons from the Venezuela Trouble—Germany or the United States—State of Religion—Necrological—A Question of Diet.
LONDON is very quiet just now; so is the whole country. Parliament adjourned for the Christmas holidays, and will not meet till about the middle of next month. The last week or two of the session the interest waned decidedly, and the concluding portions of the Educational Bill were closured through in a very matter-of-course way. The bill has passed, and, according to present prospects, its enforcement will not meet with very serious opposition. It is becoming increasingly evident that the present government is strongly reactionary and conservative, and in this attitude it is supported by public opinion. The Liberal Party was broken up by the divisions among its leading members growing out of the South African war. The predominant note in Great Britain is strongly imperialistic. And altho, as a result of the war, taxes have been considerably increased, and a debt has been incurred which it will take many years to pay off, the government is still popular with the people. Gladstone, Bright, and Cobden who stood for broad principles and were more jealous of their country's honor than anxious to increase its dominions, are not so highly regarded in these days. The Cobden Club, to give an instance, has recently been held up to ridicule by one of the leading dailies, on the ground of its having a considerable number of members. The principle of free trade has also been attacked, and urgent pleas put forth for protection and enforced military service. If the reactionary current increases in volume and intensity in the future as it has during the last ten years, England will have become quite a different country. The Venezuela incident has made one fact notably clear, and that is the strong feeling on the part of the general public against any course of action likely to endanger the friendly relations with America. England has lost prestige through the South African war; she has been humbled as a nation, but has not necessarily learned the lesson of humility. Nevertheless, this, together with the remarkable commercial development of her two chief rivals, America and Germany, has helped to lower the standing of England as a great world power. Naturally, under these circumstances, the mother country turns to its prosperous and powerful daughter. Mr. Carnegie in a recent address before the students of St. Andrews University, Edinburgh, stated that he believed it would be necessary for Great Britain, in the near future, to choose between the leadership of the United States and that of Germany. Of course, if it comes to this, there is no doubt as to the choice. Between the people of Germany and England, there is a deeply-rooted dislike, whereas the feeling toward America is continually growing more cordial. This is entirely in harmony with the prophecies of Holy Writ, which go to show that the United States will lead out in a world movement, imperialistic and arbitrary to the core, and calculated to give the final death blow to civil and religious liberty. In my previous letter I mentioned the agitation in the church over the heretical teachings of the Dean of Ripon. It did not last long; now for two or three weeks the subject has not been mentioned at all. Dr. Cheyne's defense of his “advanced” views appearing in a popular review, proved to be a very weak thing, and did not awaken a great amount of discussion. In fact, business matters are far more interesting to the average Englishman than anything else except sport; the latter is the one subject really popular. As Mr. Stead well puts it in his recent annual, the English have “many religions, but not much religion.” A careful census of church-goers taken during the closing weeks of last year in Liverpool, and in different districts of London, shows a general falling off in church attendance except in the case of the Roman Catholics, who, at least in Liverpool, have made a slight gain. The obituary list of the closing part of the year 1902 included some noted members of the clergy. First in order, Mr. Hugh Price Hughes, a very able and energetic Wesleyan (Methodist) preacher succumbed to overwork and severe mental strain, dying at the comparatively early age of fifty-five. Next followed Dr. Joseph Parker, by far the most powerful and influential of the Congregational ministers, and a really national character. For the last thirty years and more he ministered in the famous City Temple, in London, exerting a powerful influence not only upon the members directly which filled the Temple twice on Sunday, but indirectly upon the public through his one o'clock services on Thursdays, attended by numbers of clergymen. Both Mr. Hughes and Mr. Parker were believers in the inspiration of the Bible, and, in the main, simple and direct in their expositions of the Scriptures. Thus the cause of Bible religion has lost two able advocates. Dr. Frederick Temple, Archbishop of Canterbury, and Primate of all England, had been visibly failing in health, and so his death did not come unexpected. He was an ardent advocate of total abstinence, also a resolute opponent of the ritualistic party in the church, and in spite of his great age, an energetic administrator of his high office. His successor's character is not so well known, but he is highly esteemed in court circles, and this has doubtless been largely instrumental in securing his appointment. His attitude toward the Ritualists will be watched with some interest; but whether he is favorable or not, will not matter greatly in the long run. The Ritualists are strongly entrenched in the very life of the nation, and can well afford to bide their time. The main bulwarks of national Protestantism are largely beaten down already, and it will not require a great effort to finish the work. To take up another subject, which has loomed large in the public mind during the last few weeks, mention must be made of the oyster scare. Following close upon a mayor's banquet at Winchester a number of the distinguished guests were suddenly taken sick. Investigation traced the difficulty to the oysters partaken of, which it was found came from beds infected with sewage. About the same time similar cases were reported from Portsmouth and other places. Several died, among them the Dean of Winchester, an able scholar and popular preacher.9 The oyster market as a whole was affected very seriously, while it was absolutely impossible to sell any bivalves coming from the beds named as affected by sewage. The investigation is still going on, and recently several new beds have been condemned. The oyster scare, following so close upon the cases of poisoning from pork pies, has turned public attention to the matter of diet reform, and the Daily Mail, which has by far the largest circulation of any daily in this country, has recently published a series of articles on the subject of Vegetarianism, written by Mr. Eustace Miles, amateur champion for tennis and rackets and an enthusiast in food reforms. Russia has again won a decisive point in her Eastern policy by awaiting the opportunity. Patiently waiting was her old-time policy; but in 1852 Czar Nicholas became a little over-confident, and plunged into war with Turkey. When he thought he had the game in hand, the allied powers came to the rescue of the sultan. By this impulsive move the aim of Russia’s ambition was set back at least fifty years. So said the political prophets at the time, and so it has proved in the main. Since then she has waited. At the close of the Crimean War, under the treaty of Paris, says the San Francisco Chronicle, “Russia was prohibited from maintaining any war vessels or arsenals on the Black Sea; but in 1870, after the overthrow of Louis Napoleon and the isolation of England, Russia declared the provision of the treaty of Paris, so far as it applied to the Black Sea, to be no longer in force. A European conference held in London in 1871 ratified this action of Russia, but the passage of the Dardanelles by any of her war vessels remained prohibited. The treaty of Berlin, made in 1877, in which France, Germany, Russia, Turkey, Austria-Hungary, Italy, and Great Britain participated, confirmed this prohibition, and it is still in force. Since then, however, great changes have taken place in the political relations of the great powers. France and Russia have become close allies. Hence France declines now to join with England in protesting against the passage of Russia’s war-ships. Germany has obtained large railroad concessions from Turkey in Asia Minor, and is an applicant for other favors of equal value from that government. She, consequently, holds aloof in the present crisis. Italy and Austria-Hungary have special interests in the Mediterranean, the latter at the head of the Adriatic, and they are naturally opposed to Russian encroachment.” But last September the sultan gave consent to Russia’s taking four unarmed torpedo-boat destroyers through the straits into the Black Sea. Of course, England protested, but the vessels were taken through in the night, and for a time it was unknown where they were. England lost track of them, and both the Russian and Turkish authorities denied that the passage had been made. But that goes for little or nothing in Eastern diplomacy. Now it is known that the vessels have made the passage, and all the treaties on the subject have been ignored. The sultan has, so far, paid no attention to the protest of England, Italy, and Austria; and Russia will probably go on with offensive and defensive works on the shores of the Black Sea. As neither France nor Germany are any longer allies of England in this contention, they both hold aloof from the controversy so far—and the “Eastern question” is still a question in political circles. Seventeen serious accidents within three months on the Southern Pacific lines west of El Paso and Ogden, have called out a significant explanation from the manager of that part of the company's territory. In course of an interview with a press reporter he said:— “The Southern Pacific works under the standard rules governing all roads in the country. Most of our wrecks have been caused by violations of these rules. Take the terrible Arizona wreck, for instance. Operator Clough is a man twenty-one or twenty-two years old. He came to us from the Great Northern road with fine letters. He was in an office not considered a big one. Two operators had charge of it, each being on duty twelve hours. Clough was on duty only seven hours when he should have given Conductor Parker of the Limited the order to meet east-bound No. 8. He did not give Parker the order, and that was the cause of the terrible loss of life. It is a case of human frailty that you can not safeguard against. The broken rail on the Milton branch and the heavy rains and high waters on the Stockton line caused five or six wrecks. I do not blame any of the men for those affairs. But you take the Byron wreck, the collision between the Owl and Coast Line Limited near Los Angeles and the one in the East Oakland yard between the Stockton local and a freight, and you will find them cases of gross violation of rules. As a railroad official, I do not see in all the wrecks we have had on account of employees' neglect and violation of rules, that there are any faults in the standard rules governing the operation of American roads.” “How can wrecks on the Southern Pacific be prevented?” he was asked. “I can only answer that question by saying that the company should have the best of modern machinery and have the hearty co-operation of efficient men. I know our company has efficient and loyal employees, but some of them fail to do their duty.” Citing a couple of accidents on other roads, the manager said:— “The loss of thirty lives on the Grand Trunk a few days after the Byron wreck was due to an operator's negligence. President C. M. Hays of that road says it would have taken place even if the company had had the block system. The latter can not safeguard against human mistakes. Look at the wreck and loss of life on the Central of New Jersey a few days ago. The engineer was blocked by seven danger lights, and for some reason he ignored them, as well as a signal man 1,700 feet from the rear of the train he ran into.” —F. M. Pottenger, Ph. M., M.D., President of the Southern California Anti Tuberculosis League, in the California State Journal of Medicine, for January, declares that phthisiophobia (or “consumption-madness”) freely rendered in the vernacular of common folk, is spreading, and he urges the medical profession to set the people right on the matter. He avers that while there is danger, “the general public is becoming needlessly alarmed, and is magnifying the danger of infection.” He declares that a State hospital for the care of tuberculosis patients, as contemplated by a bill before the Senate, is “inadequate and unnecessary,” and from a humanitarian standpoint, “it is unjust and cruel.” He tells us that to attempt to shut out of the State such patients “is certainly impractical.” He further informs us that “tuberculosis is not a contagious disease in the sense in which we use that term, but a communicable disease. You may come in contact with a patient who is expectorating bacilli by the million daily, yet, if he is careful to destroy the sputum, there is no danger. The danger from this disease comes from ignorance and carelessness; it can be avoided by education and care.” “During the past twenty years there have been treated in the Brompton Hospital for Diseases of the Chest, in London, more than fifteen thousand cases of tuberculosis; and yet neither a nurse nor an attendant has been infected. The same record has been made in Falkenstein, Germany; the Adirondack Cottage Sanitarium, and the Winyah, at Asheville.” Surely this clearly shows that if intelligent care is taken on the part of patient and nurse there is little danger. The true way to escape it is to keep the normal vitality above germ life, keep clean, live in pure air and sunshine. This experienced physician says many excellent things. Will legislators heed them, or go “at the matter blindly,” as he intimates they are doing? Drug Medication and Adulterants
Drugs are bad enough. Their influence is enervating, deteriorating, enfeebling. But drugs adulterated are often worse. One of the great fever preventives, antipyretic, is phenacetin. It is sold everywhere almost without a physician's prescription. But the health department of New York purchased 373 samples recently from well-known drug stores in old New York and Brooklyn. Of these 315 were adulterated. Of these, 307 contained acetanilid, a “most dangerous drug.” “It is a heart depressant, and is a menace to health, if not to life, especially in cases of persons whose heart action is abnormal.” In the selling of phenacetin the profit was over 200 per cent, the wholesale price of which is one dollar an ounce. But much more could be made from the sale of acetanilid, the wholesale price of which is but twenty-five cents a pound. Thirty-two of these samples were pure acetanilid. God never designed that man should be a filter for drugs or patent nostrums. He does not need them. He rarely needs medicine of any kind. From 16 to 20 is a marked period in the lives of young people. The majority of Christian professors made their start during this period, and the vicious careers of most criminals are to be traced to influences surrounding them in those early years. Six boys between the ages named are now in jail at Ashland, Ore., who started out as an amateur highway band. A letter written by one of them contains this statement of purpose: “We want at least ten boys. We will be brave outlaws; will down many a man, if they attempt to follow us. For myself, I want a fourteen-inch saddle, a good horse, 41-caliber pistol, 38 rifle, a double belt and sticking knife.” They started in by breaking windows of houses, and then started for the State line, but were caught at Siskiyou Station, on the Oregon side. They had as yet but three weapons. They had been inspired by cheap novel reading; but the military spirit now being inculcated in the schools has much influence in cultivating a taste for firearms, and a desire to kill. Militarism and highwayism are nearer of kin than most people suspect. Classified Governments.—The Marquis of Castellane divides the dominant “Christian” governments of the world into three classes: Those ruled by masters, those who think they rule themselves, and those that actually do. In the first class he places Russia and Germany; in the second, United States and France, subject to the tyranny of political factions and “kings” of finance; in the third, England, the people of whom are freest of all rulership of any people in the world. An Australian Railway Project.
Despite the financial depression in Australia, due to the long drought, that country is planning a large development in her railway system. The South Australian Government has projected a road which, by running from south to north and connecting the railways already built, will connect the Indian with the Southern Pacific Ocean. This line is to be 1,200 miles long, and will be built and equipped in such a way as to accommodate trains running at a speed of twenty miles an hour, stoppages included. The estimated cost is $30,000,000, and tenders are to be invited from Australia, the United States, Great Britain, France and Germany, eighteen months being allowed for their preparation. What are apparently the most liberal terms will be offered by the government. The company contracting to build the road will be granted, in return for their outlay, territory along the road amounting to 75,000 acres per mile, or in all 90,000,000, a territory larger than the whole of Great Britain and Ireland. This land will not be taxed by the government for ten years. The company also receives a title to whatever gold and other minerals are found in the territory granted them. A considerable part of the road, however, will run through territory which is practically unsettled, so that the cost of running trains will be heavy. The drought, which has been so disastrous to Australian prosperity, is at last broken, and for several weeks there has been a heavy rainfall in the country.—Independent. Prospective Trouble in China
China.—Of the prospective trouble in China, the North China News says: “It has been learned on good authority that Yung Lu, the real ruler of China and the man who is reported to be responsible for the murder of Prof. Hubert James of the Peking University, will centralize the command of the military forces of the Emperor, or at least the provinces north of the Yang Tse, under himself and his henchmen, Yuan Shih Kai and Tung Fu Hsiang. The plea for the simultaneous murder of foreigners in 1900 failed, owing to the unwillingness of so many viceroys and governors to carry out the order telegraphed to them. On the next occasion the order is to be sent to the military officials, whose implicit obedience may be relied on. The maxim impressed on military officials is ‘Superiors can do no wrong.’ Subordinates have no concern with the morality of an order nor with the consequences following obedience to it. ‘We will not leave one ocean demon alive in Shensi and Kansu,’ is the boast of the Tung Fu Hsiang and ‘the friends of foreigners will hereafter suffer for it.’” Another boast is, “A census of Christian converts has been carried out and neighbors are to be held responsible for an exact declaration as to all friends of foreigners in each group of ten families.” Recent Disasters and Accidents
Disasters are becoming too numerous to mention. They seem to be almost the order of the day. Some of the more prominent since last report are: The burning of an English insane asylum, known as Colneyhatch Asylum, January 27, with the loss of fifty lives; a collision on the Central Railroad of New Jersey, at Graceland, in which thirty persons were killed and as many injured; a collision at Vail’s Station near Tucson, A. T., January 28, in which about thirty lives were lost and fifty or more burned and mangled. Loss of rolling stock estimated at $100,000. A snowslide at the Quincy Mine, Utah, on the same date, killed three men and injured four. A natural gas explosion at Fort Wayne, Ind., January 29, killed four men and dangerously injured four others, besides slightly wounding a dozen more. A million-dollar fire, January 31, burned the great house of Weinstock & Lubin, merchants, at Sacramento, Cal. One life lost. Ancient Samaritan Pentateuch Discovered
What is said to be the oldest Biblical manuscript extant has lately been discovered in Syria, and is now in safe keeping at Cairo. It comprises the Pentateuch, written in Samaritan characters on gazelle parchment, and its date is the year 116 of the Moslem era. This is equivalent to 735 of the Christian era. The oldest manuscript in the British Museum is of the year 1339 A. D., and this has hitherto been supposed to be the oldest in the world. This newly discovered manuscript, immediately after the Ten Commandments, contains a passage of about fifteen lines that does not exist in the Authorized Version. The despatch from London stating these facts says it is said that the passage is likely to clear up several long disputed points.—Christian Advocate, Jan. 22, 1903. Trusts, Unions, and Their Power
One eastern paper of good report tells us “that less than ten per cent of the factory labor of this country is employed by the so-called trusts, and less than fourteen per cent of the manufactured output is made by them.” And the percentage of labor in this country belongs to the labor unions. Yet the trusts dominate prices and the unions dominate labor. Population of Oakland and Nearby Cities
A directory of Oakland just issued places the population of the city at 97,000. Including Alameda, Fruitvale, Berkeley, and Emeryville, all of which are, apart from governmental affairs, practically one city, the population must be about 135,000. These cities are growing rapidly. Russia's Surplus and Germany's Deficit
For the first time in years Russia has a surplus of about $8,000,000, while Germany has a reported deficit of $10,000,000. Serious depression exists in agriculture, commerce, and industry. VELMA, A CHARACTER FROM REAL LIFE.
By Nettie Hall
“MOTHER, have you kept any breakfast warm for me? I must have something right away, I am so faint,” said Velma in a whining tone, as she dashed like a whirlwind into the kitchen, where her patient, overworked mother was more than busy with her various household duties: “There is some oatmeal on the back of the range, dear,” said her mother. Velma, a spoiled daughter and imagined invalid, critically examined the dish and pronounced it unfit to eat and requested, or rather commanded, her mother to make some more, adding hatefully, “You always think the left-overs are good enough for me.” Mrs. Ellis left the bread which she was kneading, to wait upon her selfish daughter. While she was stirring the oatmeal, Velma was peering about in the pantry in search of something to tempt her appetite. “Why,” she exclaimed, “is there no brown bread in the house? You know I can never make out a breakfast without brown bread.” “I did not have time to make it when I baked last,” said her mother wearily, as she set the dish of oatmeal on the table. Velma sprinkled her mush generously with sugar, and after tasting it, exclaimed: “You forgot to salt it, didn’t you mother?” Merely tasting of the carefully prepared dishes and criticizing them freely, she soon arose and left the kitchen, and the door slammed behind her. Mrs. Ellis gave a sigh of relief. She had waited upon her daughter for years, supposing her feeble, but her delicate health was more the result of inactivity than anything else. For years she had been patiently waited upon, and she had gradually, perhaps unconsciously, assumed a crusty, dictatorial manner, not only to her mother, but also to her brother, who was a patient, even-tempered young man, the one support to the family, the father having died some years before. Thoughtless, selfish, and proud, Velma’s disposition bore a striking contrast to that of her sweet and gentle mother and manly brother. She now stood in the parlor watching a hummingbird darting among the roses that climbed the trellis by the window. The fragrance of the flowers and the delicious coolness of the western breeze that blew in through the open window invited her outside. Picking up her crochet work, she seated herself comfortably on the front porch where, shut in by the climbing roses, and fanned by the cool breeze which rustled the foliage about her, she spent the morning hours. Mrs. Ellis worked hard in the hot kitchen, and when the dinner work was done, she withdrew to her room and stretched her tired form upon the couch. The weary eyelids closed, and she was soon asleep. It was not long, however, before Velma, on some errand or other, disturbed her rest, and after an hour of nervous dozing, she rose and returned to her work. The lamp was lit in the cozy little dining room that evening, shedding a soft light over the supper table so tastefully spread with appetizing food and pretty china, and Mrs. Ellis stood by the window watching for Harold. He was her only son, a bookkeeper in a large department store. Bright and promising, with prospects of a good future, he was respected and admired by all who knew him; and more than all else, he was a dutiful son and zealously guarded his mother’s welfare. She soon heard footsteps on the porch, and the next moment he had his arms about her. “Mother dear, how are you feeling to-night?” he asked anxiously. “Pretty well, my son,” she replied. But he noted the pale, worn features, and his heart grew heavy as he realized that she was failing rapidly. Mrs. Ellis looked into the manly face of her boy, and pride filled her heart as she met the gaze of those handsome dark eyes. Just then Velma appeared, and they sat down to supper. “That dear old Mrs. Chilton called this morning,” the mother said, smiling. “She wanted me to go for a drive, but I could not spare the time. I promised her that I would arrange my work so I could go to-morrow.” “It was very kind of her,” said Harold. “It has been a long time since you have had an outing, mother. Stay as long as you can; don’t hurry home.” The next morning Velma did not appear. Her mother was very busy ironing when suddenly she heard her daughter rapping loudly on the floor of her room. She set her flat-iron quickly on the stove, and hurried up the stairs. She was met with an angry frown. “What is the matter with you, mother,” exclaimed the girl harshly. “I have been trying for the last half hour to make you hear. I thought you must have gone away to spend the day,” sarcastically. “I am sorry,” said her mother, “but I did not hear you. What can I do for you?” “I do not feel able to come down this morning, and would like to have you bring up my breakfast. Make a fresh cup of coffee and some buttered toast. Be sure it is well browned, and don’t forget a soft boiled egg.” When she had eaten her breakfast, she had so far recovered from her indisposition that she felt able to take a romp with her dog, and met Harold at the gate as he came to dinner. “It was only a few minutes ago that I was able to get out of bed, Harold,” she said plaintively, in response to his salute. Harold walked toward the house in disgust and silence. His sister, altho fond of him, would brook none of his advice, so he discreetly held his tongue though very much provoked. He did not consider her an invalid, and was very much displeased that she did not assist her mother with the housework. In vain he expostulated with his mother, endeavoring to persuade her that she needed her daughter’s help. Mrs. Ellis admitted the need of help, but did not have the courage to ask her. At two o’clock Mrs. Chilton arrived in her carriage. Mrs. Ellis sighed when she saw her. “I wish she had not come,” she said to herself. “I am so tired I would rather remain at home, but I promised to go, and go I must.” So she put on her cape and bonnet, and joined her friend in her carriage. When they had gone, Velma began to feel lonely. It was a new thing to be left at the house alone. She dressed herself and strolled down to the library. She selected her book, and returning home seated herself in the bay window where she spent most of the afternoon reading. The hours seemed long and wearisome, and her book dry and uninteresting. She detested company, and had no associates; but this afternoon she almost hoped that some one would call. She felt so averse to being alone. She attempted to play the piano, but her fingers, so long unaccustomed to practise, refused to go where she willed. When the clock in the dining room struck six, she arose to her feet. “Surely mother ought to be home by this time,” she exclaimed as she stepped out on the porch and looked down the street, but the carriage was not in sight. She felt decidedly uneasy. At last she saw a carriage coming, but it was not Mr. Chilton’s. Several pedestrians were passing, but Harold was not among them. She fancied she heard some one on the side porch, but it was only the hammock tapping the side of the house, as it swung in the wind; so she strolled down to the gate. As she reached it a carriage drove up. Harold and another man were lifting her mother out. “Why Harold!” she exclaimed, frightened, “What is the matter with mother?” “Don’t be alarmed,” he replied, “but there has been an accident. The carriage was overturned by a runaway, and mother and Mrs. Chilton were injured. See that the lamps are lighted and get mother’s bed ready for her.” All her feebleness and invalidism were gone in an instant, and she hurried into the house to execute the orders. She flew about in her nervous way trying to make things comfortable for her mother. Soon the doctor arrived. He looked very grave after he had worked over his patient a half hour and she still lay white and unconscious. He said to Harold in an undertone, “You had better get a nurse; your mother needs skilful attention. Your sister is getting very nervous,” he added, “and you had better take her away.” Velma began crying hysterically when Harold led her away. He insisted upon her going to her room. “I will be back in a few minutes, and let you know how mother is. Now don’t cry that way; I don’t think mother is dangerously injured.” Yet there was a lump in his throat and a sob in his voice. Left to herself, Velma gave way to a fit of nervous crying which left her weak and exhausted. She wondered why Harold did not come back. Finally, unable to bear the suspense longer, she stole quietly down-stairs and paused at the door of her mother’s room. She listened closely and could hear the doctor and her brother talking together in low tones, and then she heard the doctor say, “If she lives till morning.” She could not hear the rest, but it was enough. She went back to her room, but she was faint and sick. What she had overheard came as a blow to her heart, which was already burdened with the anguish of self-accusation. She somehow felt responsible for it all, and she began sobbing again in bitter, remorseful distress. She heard a tap at the door, and Harold entered pale, but self-possessed. His sister looked at him inquiringly, but could not speak. “You must not give way to your feelings so,” he entreated. “You will make yourself sick. The doctor says that mother is in great danger; her weak condition before the accident making her recovery more doubtful, but he says if she has not been injured internally, with good care she may recover. We must at least hope for the best. I must leave you now as I have to go for the nurse.” He felt sorry for his sister, and realized that she was already a changed girl. He kissed her tear-stained cheek and left her. Velma was not encouraged. Her heart was heavy, and she sat like one paralyzed. Her throat was dry, and she groaned under the burden of her anguish. Her whole life came up before her like a11 panorama. She realized how patiently her mother had toiled for her, and how ungrateful she had been. Finally falling on her knees, she made a solemn vow to God that if He would spare her mother’s life, she would treasure her and be a comfort and help to her. Weary and dejected, she lay down upon her bed, and eventually fell into a troubled slumber. When she awoke the sun was shining brightly into the room, and the swallows were twittering about the eaves. It was a beautiful morning, but like a shock the events of the evening before came quickly to her mind. She knew that her mother could not be worse, or they would have called her. The determination that she had made buoyed her up, and she hurried down-stairs. In the kitchen she found Harold making preparations for breakfast. He looked up in surprise as she entered the room. “How is mother this morning, Harold?” she asked anxiously. “She recovered consciousness near midnight, and is much better this morning,” he answered. “She needs absolute rest and quiet. You had better not see her until the doctor permits.” He was surprised again when his sister took the work out of his hands and proceeded to prepare the meal herself. It was soon on the table. “I will go and stay with mother while the nurse comes to breakfast,” said Harold. The nurse was a quiet, sweet-faced, Quaker lady with a loving disposition, and Velma soon found herself lost in admiration, not only of her kindly face, but of her gentle voice and pleasing manner; and as she waited upon her, she found herself contrasting her own unlovely ways with those of this gentle woman. Then she resolved at heart to be like her, if possible. All day Velma worked energetically overtaxing her strength, and when the doctor came in the evening she met him at the door. She tried to keep the tears back as she said, “Doctor, I want to see my mother.” “I guess we will let you come in,” he said kindly, “if you will be calm.” She could not keep the tears from coursing down her cheeks, however, as she saw her mother lying white and still with half-closed eyes. Slipping past the nurse, she knelt beside the bed and buried her face in her hands; and her mother, conscious of her presence, put out a feeble hand and caressed her lovingly. 1420 Kearny Ave., Los Angeles, Cal. BE STILL.
By Mrs. E. W. Hampton
Be still, O heart of mine,
For why shouldst thou repine
Because of pain and woe
That fills thy cup below! What if thy sorrow dim
The cup e'en to the brim,
Or should thy cup be more
Than full, be running o'er? What if the dark clouds come
While ocean billows foam?
What if the mountains rise
To meet the darkened skies?
Be still, sad heart, be still,
And wait thy Father's will;
For thou must not repine,
O restless heart of mine. Weep not, O heart, nor fret;
For how canst thou forget
That thou art not alone?
Hast thou not heard the moan
Of other hearts than thine?
How canst thou, then, repine?
Forget thy pain, O heart,
And bravely act thy part. And when the breakers roar,
Look toward the other shore,
Beyond the cruel tree
Where Jesus died for thee!
Canst thou not trust the Lord
Whose pledge is in His Word?
Be still, O heart of mine,
Thou shalt not more repine. College View, Neb. Mrs. E. W. HAMPTON. Immediately after the holiday season, the counters of the various stores are piled high with the leftovers from the holiday trade, and the daily papers come out in regular placard style, telling of the wonderful values simply given away “at your own price,” at these marked-down, midwinter sales. If you are a judge of values, now and then a real bargain may be secured, but the most of the goods are of a cheap quality, or in some way damaged, and simply “marked down” from previously inflated prices which always obtain during the hurly-burly shopping of “the season.” A really good article will always bring a good price, and such things, if not disposed of at something near their value, may be laid away, or sold to smaller merchants to very good advantage, and merchants are not often found giving dollars for dimes. Sometimes, a really good article, from the fact of its having been used in display windows, or as a sample, and thus soiled by the dust, smoke, or much handling, or not having found favor in the eyes of purchasers from some cause of color, weave, etc., is put upon the counter at reduced price, and if the article or goods is washable, or otherwise cleanable, or even if it may be dyed, it is as well to buy it. But unless you are a judge of quality, it is safe not to invest too heavily in “bargain goods.” A great many women—and men, too—buy things for which they have not, and, in all probability, never will have, the slightest use, simply because it is cheap, and they think they may want it at some future time. Such people have any quantity of odds and ends lying around, going to waste, and when they really do need something of the kind, find that what they have will not suit the need of the hour, and have, at last, to buy new to fit the purpose, while the “unavailable” is still taking up room and will eventually find its way to the waste heap. It is not always economy to buy new goods with which to piece out an old garment, but if one must buy, it is just as well to buy a cheaper grade, and thus the whole garment, new and old, will wear out together.—The Commoner. An English traveler who has visited every nation in the world is authority for the statement that one food is universal throughout all countries. “There is not a part of the world,” he says, “where you can not get an egg.” While in Western China, however, he at first had some difficulty in getting even eggs. The natives could not understand him and refused to recognize the pictures he drew as pictures of eggs. “The way I got out of the difficulty,” he adds, “was that I squatted down on my haunches, flapped my wings, and cock-a-doodle-doo’d until the entire nation grasped what I wanted, and I was simply provided with hundreds of eggs.”