Earlier text: THE PLACE OF THE SABBATH IN THE THIRD ANGEL'S MESSAGENOTES ON THE INTERNATIONAL LESSON.
HEROD AND JOHN THE BAPTIST.
MULTITUDES had flocked to the wilderness to hear the words of the wonderful prophet. He had laid the ax at the root of the tree. He had reproved sin, fearless of the consequences, and prepared the way for the ministry of Christ. Herod was affected as he listened to the pointed testimony of John, and with deep interest he inquired what he must do to become his disciple. He was convicted by the plain truths uttered by John. His conscience condemned him, for a woman of vile passions had gained his affections and controlled his mind. This unprincipled woman was ambitious for power and authority, and thought if she became the wife of Herod her object would be gained. As Herod listened to the practical truths proclaimed by John, reproving the transgression of the law of God, and setting forth the future punishment which the guilty must suffer, he trembled, and greatly desired to break the chain of lust which held him. He opened his mind to John, who brought Herod to the law of God face to face, and told him it would be impossible for him to have part in the kingdom of the Messiah unless he should break away from the unlawful connections with his brother's wife, and with his whole heart obey the commandments of God. HEROD was inclined to act upon the advice of John, and stated to Herodias that he could not marry her in defiance of the law of God. But this determined woman would not be thwarted in her designs. Intense hatred was awakened in her heart toward John. Herod was weak in principle, vacillating in mind, and Herodias had no great difficulty in re-establishing herself in his favor, and holding her influence over him. Herod yielded to the pleasures of sin, rather than submit to the restrictions of the law of God. WHEN Herodias had gained influence over Herod, she determined to be revenged upon the prophet for his daring to reprove their course of crime, and she influenced him to imprison John. Herod intended to release him, but his purpose was delayed from time to time through fear of displeasing Herodias, who was determined he should be put to death. While he was delaying, she was active, planning how to be revenged in the most effectual manner on the prophet, because he had ventured to tell the truth, and reprove their unlawful life. She knew that although Herod kept John in prison, he designed to release him, for he honored and feared him, and believed that he was a true prophet of God. John had made known to Herod the secrets of his heart and life, and his reproofs had struck terror to the guilty conscience of the king. IN many things Herod had reformed his dissolute life. But the use of luxurious food and stimulating drink was constantly enervating his moral as well as physical powers, and warring against the earnest appeals of the Spirit of God, which had struck conviction to his heart, and was urging him to put away his sins. Herodias was acquainted with the weak points in the character of Herod. She knew that under ordinary circumstances, while his intelligence controlled him, she could not compass the death of John. SHE had tried, but unsuccessfully, to gain the consent of Herod to have John slain. Her revengeful spirit was now at work to accomplish her inhuman design by strategy. She knew that the only way to accomplish her purpose would be through the gratification of the king's intemperate appetite. So she covered her hatred as best she could, looking forward to the royal birthday, which she knew would be an occasion of gluttony and intoxication. The king's love of luxurious food and wine would give her an opportunity to throw him off his guard. She would entice him to indulge his appetite, which would arouse passions of the baser order, subvert the finer sensibilities, produce a recklessness of consequences, and an inability to exercise his proper judgment and decision. SHE was acquainted with the effect of these carnivals upon the intellect and morals. She knew that the unnatural exhilaration of the spirits induced by intemperance lowers the moral standard of the mind, making it impossible for holy impulses to enter the heart and govern the excited passions; that festivities and amusements, dances, and free use of wine cloud the senses, and remove the fear of God; therefore she prepared everything to flatter his pride and vanity, and indulge his passions. She made the most costly preparations for feasting, and voluptuous dissipation. WHEN the great day arrived, and the king with his lords was feasting and drinking in the banqueting hall, Herodias sent her daughter, dressed in a most enchanting manner, into the royal presence. Salome was decorated with costly garlands and flowers, sparkling jewels and flashing bracelets. With little covering and less modesty, she danced for the763amusement of the royal guests. To their perverted senses she seemed a vision of beauty and loveliness, and charmed away the last remnants of self-respect and propriety. Instead of being governed by enlightened reason, refined taste, and sensitive conscience, the baser qualities of the mind held the guiding reins. Virtue and principle had no controlling power. THE mind of Herod was in a whirl. His faculties were confused, judgment and reverence were dethroned. He saw only the hall of pleasure, with his reveling guests, the banquet table, sparkling wine and flashing lights, and the young girl in her voluptuous beauty dancing before him. In the recklessness of the moment he was desirous to make some display which would exalt him still higher before the great men of his kingdom; and he rashly promised, and confirmed his promise with an oath, to give the daughter of Herodias whatever she might ask. THE object for which she had been sent into the royal presence was now gained. Having obtained so wonderful a promise, she ran to her mother desiring to know what she should ask. The mother's answer was ready—the head of John the Baptist in a charger, Salome was shocked. She did not understand the hidden revenge in her mother's heart, and at first refused to present such an inhuman request; but the determination of the wicked mother prevailed. Moreover, she bade her daughter make no delay, but hasten to prefer her request before Herod would have time for reflection. Accordingly Salome returned to Herod with her terrible petition: "I will that thou give me, by and by, in a charger, the head of John the Baptist. And the king was exceeding sorry; yet for his oath's sake, and for their sakes which sat with him, he would not reject her." HEROD was astonished and confounded. The riotous mirth ceased, for his guests were thrilled with horror at this inhuman request. An ominous silence settled down upon the scene of revelry. The king, though drunken and confused, endeavored to summon reason to his aid. HE had been exalted for constancy and superior judgment, and he did not wish to appear fickle or rash in character. The oath had been made in honor of his guests, and had one of them offered a word of remonstrance against the fulfillment of his promise, he would gladly have saved the life of John. He gave them opportunity to speak in the prisoner's behalf. They had traveled long distances to the mountains in the wilderness to listen to his powerful discourses, and they knew he was a man without crime, and a prophet of God. Herod told them if it would not be considered a special mark of dishonor to them, he would not abide by his oath. BUT though at first they were horror-stricken at the unnatural demand of the girl, they were so far intoxicated that they sat in silent stupor, without reason, reverence, or thought. Though they were invited to release the monarch from his oath, their tongues were dumb. No voice in all that company was raised to save the life of an innocent man, who had never done them harm. Herod, still under the delusion that, in order to maintain his reputation, he must keep an oath made under the influence of intoxication, unless formally released from it, waited in vain for a dissenting voice, but there was none. The life of God's prophet was in the hands of a company of drunken revelers. These men occupied high positions of trust in the nation, and grave responsibilities rested upon them, yet they had gorged themselves with dainty food, and added drunkenness to surfeiting, until their mental powers were enervated by the pleasure of sense, their brains turned with the giddy scene of music and dancing, and conscience lay dormant. By their silence they pronounced the sentence of death upon the anointed of the Lord, to gratify the horrible caprice of a wicked woman. Too often in these days the most solemn responsibilities rest upon those who, from their intemperate habits, are not in a condition to exercise the calm judgment and keen perceptions of right and wrong with which their Creator endowed them. The guardians of the people, men in authority, upon whose decisions hang the lives of their fellow-creatures, should be subject to severe punishment if found guilty of intemperance. Those who enforce laws should be law-keepers. They should be men of self-government, in full harmony with the laws governing their physical, mental, and moral powers, that they may possess full vigor of intellect and a high sense of justice. In the martyrdom of John we have a result of intemperance among those invested with great authority. This eventful birthday feast should be a lesson of warning to the lovers of pleasure, and an exhortation to Christian temperance. HEROD waited in vain to be released from his oath, then reluctantly commanded the executioner to take the life of John. The head of the prophet was soon brought in before the king and his guests. Those lips were now forever sealed that had faithfully declared to Herod the reform he must make in his life, when that monarch inquired why he could not be the prophet's disciple. Never more would that voice be heard in trumpet notes calling sinners to repentance. The frivolities and dissipation of a single night had caused the sacrifice of one of the greatest prophets that ever bore a message from God to men. HERODIAS received the gory head with fiendish satisfaction. She exulted in her revenge, and thought that Herod's conscience would be no more disturbed. But her calculations were greatly in error; no happiness resulted to her through her crime. Her name became notorious and abhorred because of her inhuman act, while the heart of Herod was more oppressed by remorse than it had been by the condemnation of John. And the very act which she imagined would rid the world of the prophet's influence, enshrined him as a holy martyr, not only in the hearts of his disciples, but of those who had not before ventured to stand boldly out as his followers. Many who had heard his message of warning, and had been secretly convinced by his teachings, now, spurred on by horror at his cold-blooded murder, publicly espoused his cause and declared themselves his disciples. Herodias utterly failed to silence the influence of John's teachings; they were to extend down through every generation to the close of time, while her corrupt life and Satanic revenge would reap a harvest of infamy. AFTER the feast of Herod had ended, and the effects of his intoxication had passed away, reason again resumed her throne, and the king was filled with remorse. His crime was ever before him, and he was constantly seeking to find relief from the stings of a guilty conscience. His faith in John as an honored prophet of God was unshaken. As he reflected upon his life of self-denial, his powerful discourses, his solemn, earnest appeals, his sound judgment as a counselor, and then reflected that he had put him to death, his conscience was fearfully troubled. Engaged in the affairs of the nation, receiving honors from men, he bore a smiling face and dignified mien, while he concealed an anxious, aching heart, and was constantly terrified with fearful forebodings that the curse of God was upon him. WHEN Herod heard of the wonderful works of Christ in healing the sick, casting out devils, and raising the dead, he was exceedingly troubled and perplexed. His convictions were that God, whom John preached, was indeed present in every place, and that he had witnessed the wild mirth and wicked dissipation in the royal banqueting room, and that his ear had heard his command to the executioner to behead John, that his eye had seen the exultation of Herodias, and the taunting and insult with which she had reproached the severed head of her enemy. And many things which he had heard from the lips of the prophet now spoke to his conscience in louder tones than the preaching in the wilderness. He had heard from John that nothing could be hidden from God, therefore he trembled lest some terrible punishment should be visited upon him for the sin he had committed. WHEN Herod heard of the words of Christ, he thought that God had resurrected John, and sent him forth with still greater power to condemn sin. He was in constant fear that John would avenge his death by passing condemnation upon him and his house. "And king Herod heard of him [Christ] (for his name was spread abroad); and he said, That John the Baptist was risen from the dead, and therefore mighty works do show forth themselves in him. Others said, That it is Elias. And others said, That it is a prophet, or as one of the prophets. But when Herod heard thereof, he said, It is John, whom I beheaded; he is risen from the dead." THE Lord followed Herod, as is described in Deuteronomy: "The Lord shall give thee there a trembling heart, and failing of eyes, and sorrow of mind. And thy life shall hang in doubt before thee; and thou shalt fear, day and night, and shalt have none assurance of thy life. In the morning thou shalt say, Would God it were even! and at even thou shalt say, Would God it were morning! for the fear of thine heart wherewith thou shalt fear, and for the sight of thine eyes which thou shalt see."—Mrs. E. G. White, in Great Controversy, Vol. 2. "PLEASE, SIR, WILL YOU READ IT?"
"SIR," said an old man, one day, to a minister, "would you like to know how it was that I, an old, gray-headed sinner, was instrumentally led to become a Christian?" "Yes," replied the minister; "I should very much like to know." "Well, sir, I was walking along the street one morning, when I met a bright-eyed boy. The little fellow stepped up to me, and in the most polite manner imaginable, said: 'Please, sir, will you take a tract? And, please, sir, will you read it?'" "Now, I had always hated tracts, and when anybody offered them to me I generally got angry, and, shame to say it, I sometimes swore dreadfully at them. But that 'please, sir,' overcame me that morning. I could not swear at that gentlemanly little fellow, with his kind 'please, sir.' No, no; so I took the tract, and I thanked the boy. As I had promised him that I would read it, I did read it. By God's mercy, the reading of that tract led me to see that I was a sinner. It showed me that Jesus Christ was my only Saviour. It was the means of bringing me to Christ. That 'please, sir,' was the key that unlocked my hard old heart."—Selected. Christian Training Cannot Replace Conversion
By Methodist Recorder
Christian training, it matters not how thorough it may be, cannot be substituted for conversion. It is not an end, but means leading to an end. It matters not what instruction may be imparted to a child, it cannot change his moral nature, but it may be the means of leading him to Christ, whose Spirit and grace can renew and save his soul. It is the duty of every parent, and of every Christian, so far as they have opportunity, both by precept and example, to instruct and train the children in the way they should go, asking the divine blessing upon their labors; but unless this instruction leads to the renewing of their hearts by the divine Spirit, so far as their salvation is concerned, it will prove ineffectual. To trust in anything short of this is a delusion and a snare. "O MOTHER!" said Nelly Ray, tossing back her rich brown curls, as she took off her hat and flung it on the chair, dropped her school satchel at her feet, and spilled its contents on the floor, "I do just wish you'd buy me a sealskin jacket." "I wish I could, dear," sighed Mrs. Ray, who thought her Nelly ought to have all that any other girl had, yet had not the means to indulge her girlish whims. "Father is very much pressed for money this year. He really don't know how to keep you at Miss Packard's." "Seems to me father never does have money," Nelly said pettishly. "All the other girls have got new seal jackets, or else they're going to have them. Ella Brown has got a brown plush coat trimmed with real sable. It is perfectly lovely; but I'd be content with sealskin." "Well, we'll see," said her mother, glad to pacify the girl for the moment. "Would you be quite content with that, Nelly? for, if father feels as if he could buy you such an expensive thing, he won't be able to get you anything else new this winter." "Dear me! I shouldn't want another thing, of course. A good long seal jacket is what I'm crying for." And Nelly laughed, flushed up to her bright eyes with lovely girlish color, picked up her scattered things, and went up to her room, singing. That night, when Nelly had gone out to see a neighbor's daughter, with much doubt and some fear, Mrs. Ray laid the girl's wish before her father. Mr. Ray's kindly, sensible face clouded. "Amanda," he said decidedly, "it can't be done. I have not got the money to spare, and if I had, I think it would be all nonsense. We are not rich people, everybody knows, and Nelly is not a delicate child, who needs to be coddled with furs. Her cloak is good enough and pretty enough to match the rest of her dress. A sealskin coat would cost her double its price." "What?" said Mrs. Ray; but before her husband could answer her, the door-bell rang sharply, and a telegram was brought in. It was from Mrs. Williams, Mr. Ray's only sister, who was the wife of a wealthy man in Boston. Her husband had been very ill lately, and a sudden hemorrhage of the lungs coming on, his physician had ordered him South for the winter. This message was to ask Mr. and Mrs. Ray to come on and say good-by to them immediately. "We must go by the early train to-morrow morning," said Mr. Ray. So when Nelly came in, she found her mother packing and her father gone back to his office, to put his business in condition to leave it with his clerks. Nothing more was said or thought about the seal jacket, till one day soon after Mr. and Mrs. Ray reached Boston. Mrs. Williams, who was watching her maid pack away the clothing she meant to leave behind, said:— "Belle, bring me that large white box," and opening it, she showed a very long and elegant sealskin sack to her sister-in-law. "Isn't it pretty, Amanda?" she asked. "I had just bought it. It seems a pity I can't use it on the voyage; but it would only be a day or two, and then I should have to give it trunk-room all the rest of the way." "It is very pretty, Anne." "Don't you want to wear it for me this winter, 'Manda?" "No, dear; thank you. Nelly is crazy for one, and I should take it for her, only that John would not like it. He decidedly refused to buy her one, and said, too, that it would cost to her twice its price. I'm sure I don't know what he meant." "I think I do," laughed Mrs. Williams. "I'll speak to John about it myself." What she said or he said Mrs. Ray did not ask or know; but the result was that the sealskin sack went back to Brompton with Nelly's parents, and the box was given to her with only these words:— "Here's the sealskin coat, Nelly." Aunt Anne had made a special request that she should be told nothing more. Mr. Ray added:— "And, 'Manda, don't ask me to buy her another thing this year," so that Mrs. Ray concluded her husband had bought the coat of his sister at a discount, and that Anne did not want to own she had sold a thing she was perfectly able to give away, if she chose to. Nelly was delighted. She hugged her father and kissed her mother, and danced about the house in delight. She did not quite like to be told she must not wear this fine garment to school; but still it was a great thing to have it, and her last year's cloak was really quite good-looking for a cloth cloak, the buttons were so expensive and the plush trimming so heavy. She was a very well-satisfied young lady when she walked out the next Saturday to make calls. Her dark brown cashmere dress, trimmed with velvet, was not new, to be sure, but it was handsome, and her little velvet turban and long feather looked as well as a hat ever looks in its second season. Susan Beers, her dearest friend, was first to comment:— "Why, Nell, what a lovely jacket! but where's your muff? I should think your hands would freeze." Nelly colored; but she was honest. "I haven't any muff, Sue, except a plush one." "Oh! Of course you couldn't carry that. Why don't you get a pair of seal gloves? They are perfectly lovely, and so much handier than a muff." Nelly went home with a new idea. "O mamma," she said, coaxingly, as her mother was brushing out her long, tangled curls at night, "can't you get me a pair of seal gloves?" "No, Nelly. Father has set his foot down, and you know what that means—that you can't have another unnecessary thing this winter." "Well, I should think it was pretty necessary to keep my hands warm. Don't you think it is?" "My dear, where is your plush muff?" "Why, I can't wear that with a seal jacket." "Oh!" said her mother, and the conversation stopped short. Mrs. Ray began to have an idea of the situation. The next day was warmer, and Nelly was comfortable in her kid gloves; but alas! she heard two of her acquaintances behind her in the church porch say:— "Nell Ray's got a sealskin. Hasn't she?" "Yes; but how it looks with that old turban she had last year—rusty velvet and a limp feather." Nelly did not profit much by her church-going that day, and on Wednesday afternoon her mother found her ripping her best hat apart. "What are you about, Nelly?" she asked. "Oh! I'm going to steam this old velvet. It's so dusty it wants brushing, too; and my feather is all dragged out. I must curl it over the stove. I ought to have a new bonnet; this looks so horrid with my sealskin jacket." Mrs. Ray turned away to hide a sad little smile. But the velvet, for all its steaming and brushing, did not look much better when Nelly's deft fingers replaced it on the frame; and she burned off the end of the feather, trying to curl it, so that was spoiled. Mother, mother-like—for who but a mother ever loves us with such pure unselfishness, such tireless devotion?—took the rich cluster of plumes from her own velvet bonnet, Aunt Anne's present, and fastened them onto the old turban in a graceful fashion, which hid all its deficiencies. "I don't need them, dear," she answered to Nelly's thanks; yet her bonnet lost its beauty with its feathers, and more than one person said that winter, "What an ugly, bear-looking hat Mrs. Ray wears." Still, there were the gloves and the muff, neither of them suited to the coat. Nelly could not think of any way either to improve her old dress, and she would not have thought it necessary, but that she saw Belle Bradford and Ella Brown, one Saturday, making calls, each with a velvet skirt and cloth overdress under the sealskin jacket and the sable-trimmed plush coat. "O girls, what lovely new dresses!" exclaimed Nelly, whose taste for dress was strong. "That is just the loveliest blue, Ella!—like a gentian in the sunshine, and the sable fur is perfect against it. And your garnet is perfectly charming, too, Belle." Miss Belle Bradford was a supercilious young person, and she answered, in a cool, careless tone:— "Yes; it contrasts rather well with the sealskin. One really can't wear anything that looks decently with fur but velvet. They seem to suit." And she eyed Nelly's old cashmere with such calm superiority that the girl felt as if she had committed a grave offense. "Oh, dear!" she said to herself, "why can't I have things like all the other girls?"765 Just then Susan Beers came along. She, too, had a new suit of fine wine-red cloth, heavily trimmed with velvet and jet, in very bad taste; and, as she thrust her hand through Nelly's arm, she said:— "Look there. Ain't those seal gloves sweet?" "Just as pretty as they can be, Sue. Oh, dear, how I do wish father would give me some!" "My!" said Sue. "If I waited for pa to give me things, I guess I shouldn't ever have 'em. He don't think nor care, and ma's sick in her room all the time. I just went to Cantrell's and got my gloves and had 'em charged to pa. He'll pay the bill and he'll scold; but then he always scolds about something or another. I don't mind it." Nelly was disgusted. Her father never scolded; but the rare, stern words of reproof he had to use sometimes were harder to bear than any anger. Yet there was a seed sown in her mind. All our words are seeds and have their own harvest. Is it always of wheat or other good grain? The Home Circle.
By Mrs. W. H. Bailey
O FATHER, Father up in Heaven,
Bend low thy loving ear,
And listen to the words I speak,
And say, "My child, I hear." Thou gavest me a solemn trust,
A life-work here to do;
I sought in weakness and in want
To be to it most true. But earth and hell combined to thwart
My work, and I was weak;
My poor life-work, oh! fix it, Lord—
For help to thee I seek. Unravel all the bad, I pray;
The stitches dropped, pick up;
I'm but a little one, you know,
And bitter is life's cup. Yes, fix it up, my poor life-work—
Say, have I toiled in vain?
I tried to do it well thou know'st,
For thee to bear its pain. But I can see to-day, and know
'Tis poorly done, not well;
How thou can'st ever say, "Well done,"
I'm sure I cannot tell. But shall it come to naught? be vain?
Must I go empty hand?
Forbid it, Father up in Heaven—
Oh! make my work to stand. For Jesus' sake thy blessing add;
Oh, crown my work with thine!
So shall it not be vain and lost,
And joy of heart be mine. If, from any cause, whether a sudden shock of grief or fright, or from loss of blood, a person faints, lay her flat on her back, and do not raise her head. Fainting comes from the blood not passing through the brain, and is, of course, more likely to continue while she is in the upright position, and while the head is high. Do not mingle in your mind severe cases of fainting with apoplexy. In these the face is red or purple, and they arise from too large a quantity of blood in the brain. Therefore, when a person becomes insensible with the face pale, keep the head low; when with the face red, keep the head high. There is another point with regard to fainting which you should observe. You know that when a woman falls into this state, it is the common practice to sprinkle her with cold water, and it is a very good plan if it be not carried too far. If, however, the face, bosom, and hands become cold, that very condition will prevent her recovering; therefore, when this occurs, the cold should be changed for warm applications, such as heated flannels, etc., for sudden changes of temperature will have the proper effect much better than the continued application of either one or the other.—Care of the Sick. THE USE OF UNCOOKED MILK.
THE question of the habitual use of uncooked milk which prevails in this kingdom is one which demands serious attention. Again and again have milk epidemics of typhoid fever, scarlet fever, and diphtheria shown conclusively how severely the incidence of the disease in question has been felt upon those using uncooked milk, as opposed to those taking milk only after it has been boiled or otherwise cooked. At one time it was thought that the matter involved only the question of the cleanliness of the dairy and the freedom of those engaged in its management from communicable disease; and the mere fact of milk coming from country dairies has been held to be a sufficient guarantee of its wholesomeness. As a matter of fact, our experience goes to show that the danger is at its greatest according as dairies are situated in the more remote and rural localities; for it is precisely in scattered rural areas that first cases of ill-defined sore throat and other affections in the families of those having to do with cows and milk are most likely to pass unnoticed. But recent experience has shown that disease in the human subject, whether unrecognized or concealed, is not the only—perhaps not the greatest—danger that has to be contended with in connection with our milk service. It has now been shown that the cow herself may suffer from a disease which at present is rarely, if ever, regarded as of any importance by dairymen, and which may give to the milk, at the actual moment of entering the pail, the power of producing scarlet fever in those who consume it in its raw state. Just as the excellent arrangements which have been made for the medical supervision of dairies must at times fail to detect certain cases of disease in the human subject, so must any veterinary or other inspector of cows fail in certain cases to prevent scarlatina-producing milk from being dispatched from the dairy. We would therefore once again urge the importance of using milk only after it has been boiled or otherwise cooked. And for those who have not habituated themselves to the somewhat altered taste of boiled milk as a beverage, we may note that if milk be boiled immediately after its delivery by the milkman, and be then set aside in a cool place for some six hours, the taste which is sometimes objected to will be found to be almost entirely removed; and not only so, but milk so treated keeps good and wholesome for a longer period than does unboiled milk.—London Lancet. PERSONS who are moderately intelligent on other topics appear to have small thought, or that very perverted, on the subject of hygiene in their sleeping-rooms, and especially those occupied by children. The ventilation of a bed-chamber cannot be too carefully attended to; and, as says Horace Mann, "Seeing the atmosphere is forty miles deep all around the globe, it is a useless piece of economy to breathe it more than once." Yet nine mothers out of ten will carefully close all the windows, "for fear of colds and night air," and leave two or three children to sleep in a stifling atmosphere, and see no connection between the colds and throat troubles they have and the vitiated air she compels them to breathe night after night. Let the morning air and sunshine into the bedroom as soon as possible after the occupants have arisen; and if there is no sunshine, and it is not raining, let in the air. Do not make up beds too soon after they are vacated. You may get your house tidied sooner, but it is neither cleanly nor healthful to snugly pack up bed-clothing until the exhalations of the sleepers' bodies have been removed by exposure to the air.—Agriculturist. Till you are innocent yourself, don't condemn others. The Value of Trouble and Crosses
It is good that we sometimes have trouble and crosses, for they make a man enter into himself, and consider that he ought not to put his trust in any earthly thing. VEGETABLE CLOTHING.
By C. J. Russell
ABOUT two hundred years ago the governor of the island of Jamaica, Sir Thomas Lynch, sent to King Charles II., of England, a vegetable necktie, and a very good necktie it was, although it had grown on a tree and had not been altered since it was taken from the tree. A gentleman who witnessed two natives manufacturing this lace, thus describes it: A tree about twenty feet high and six inches in diameter, with a bark looking much like that of a birch tree, was cut down. Three strips of bark, about six inches wide and eight feet long, were taken from the trunk and thrown into a stream of water. Then each man took a strip while it was still in the water, and with the point of his knife separated a thin layer of the inner bark from one end of the strip. This layer was then taken in the fingers and gently pulled, whereupon it came away in an even sheet of the entire width and length of the strip of bark. Twelve sheets were thus taken from each strip of bark, and thrown into the water. The men were not through yet, however, for when each strip of bark had yielded its twelve sheets, each sheet was taken from the water and gradually stretched sidewise. The spectator could hardly believe his eyes. The sheet broadened and broadened until from a close piece of material six inches wide, it became a filmy cloud of delicate lace over three feet in width. The astonished gentleman was forced to confess that no human-made loom ever turned out lace which could surpass in snowy whiteness and gossamer-like delicacy that product of nature. The natural lace is not so regular in formation as the material called illusion, so much worn by ladies in summer; but it is as soft and white, and will bear washing, which is not true of illusion. In Jamaica and Central America among the poorer people it supplies the place of manufactured cloth, which they cannot afford to buy; and the wealthier classes do not by any means scorn it for ornamental use. The tree is commonly called the lace-bark tree. Its botanical name is Lageta lintearia.—C. J. Russell, in St. Nicholas for May. WINE IS A MOCKER.
By Censor
THE unnatural and impossible proposition—the ridiculous falsehood—that the use of wine or beer decreases the use of stronger liquors or diminishes drunkenness and crime, needs refuting every morning, just as do all other false pretenses made by the poisoners of men. France consumes nearly thirty-nine gallons of wine per capita, about forty times more than any other nation, and uses the largest quantity of spirits per head. She is also becoming a large consumer of beer, and drunkenness is increasing so rapidly that her wine-drinking legislators are declaring it a public danger which must be attended to. England in 1830 tried to substitute beer for strong liquors, and licensed many thousands of beer shops to induce people to quit drinking gin. The result was a larger consumption of spirits and all the filthy drunkenness on beer added to the former hideous stock. Good men in those dark days believed the "beer act" was to be a grand conservator of morality and sobriety, but after a year's trial it was seen to be a tremendous mistake. And in a few years more the beer act was denounced as the greatest calamity that had ever befallen England. But as it helped to pay a Government revenue, like spirits, tobacco, and opium, there has never been any attempt to repeal or amend it in the interest of the public welfare. In the early days of wine-making in California the argument was used that wine would supplant whisky and diminish intemperance; but in a few years most men conceded that it had a marked opposite effect.—Censor. Healthful Outdoor Exercise
THE most healthful form of exercise is that which involves exhilarating outdoor activities.