THE humbug of our times is the proposed "Congress of Religions" to be held in Chicago in connection with the big show, in September, 1893. From all accounts it is to be a world-surprising blowout, as the manner of the Windy City is. For wind, noise, and general bigness Chicago is matchless.
Having discovered Columbus the American people now propose to manifest themselves to the world. To meet expenses to gratify vanity, "all nations, languages, kindreds, and tongues" are levied on for contributions—of visitors, show goods, and cash. That nothing may be lacking, all the "religions of the world" are summoned to appear, make procession, exhibit inventories, give "reason for the faith that is in them," and leave shekels in Chicago, crying out like the "four daughters of the horse leech," "Give." Over this "parliament" of all religions (anglomaniacs prefer the English term to congress), much ado is being made by sundry papers, some infidel and some "inclined to piety." The meeting will be for the most part taken up with palaver, tongue fence, and brag. Yet the Son of Man said, "The kingdom of heaven cometh not with observation." Can even an unbeliever conceive of him as making out a program for such a conglomeration of orthodoxies and heresies, infidelities and heathenisms?
A marked copy of a paper, standing for the beliefs and history of the sect called Methodists, sent to the writer, gives a brief, broad statement of the great and "Complete Exhibit of Religions." This paper says, and many write the same things:—
It is proposed to have in connection with the World's Fair a series of world conventions, representing the chief departments of human knowledge and effort, and the principal one of these will be the Congress of Religions, extending through the month of September, 1893. Halls and churches that will accommodate 30,000 people will be found ready for this series of conventions, which will give a complete exhibit of the religious forces now shaping human thought and life. The Denominational Congress will come first, and will occupy a week or more. Many of the leading denominations of the country217have already planned for these. The Congregationalists and Lutherans especially have arranged for these on an immense scale. Then a week has been assigned for the Evangelical Alliance, whose meetings will be of immense interest, etc.
A number of our papers—to say nothing of a conference or two—are in a state of excited sensibility on the subject, as a crowd of schoolgirls might be if invited to a swell wedding in a much decorated and very tony church. The general superintendents of our church are earnestly called on by resolution and editorial assurance of general approval to see to it that the Methodist Episcopal Church South be represented at the great talking match and general exhibit of the religions of all the nations.
It is thought by some good people that it would be an irreparable calamity if Southern Methodism shouldn't have a good place in the procession. We also must flaunt banners, beat drums, blow horns, and make other noises to let the world know that we are somewhat ourselves. It is even counted a sort of greenness and narrowness not to see at once that we must be there, making for the eyes and ears of men an exhibit of our religion—"to be seen of men."
There was a Teacher once who said terrible things about those who make a show of their piety; but men forget Him and His teaching.
The Chicago management is without bias; all are invited, and upon terms of perfect equality. Protestants and Romanists, State churches and free churches, Greek Church and Mohammedans, Buddhists and Touists, Trinitarians and Unitarians, Evangelicals and Universalists, Christians and idolaters, all are invited and begged to come. If any have been overlooked, there has been no intention to be unfair. The medicine man of the Apaches should be there—as good as some of the rest; also the rain makers Rider Haggard describes (from whom General Dyrenforth might get some valuable hints); also the priests of Darkest Africa. Why not the voodoo negroes of Louisiana swamps? They could give a trick worth knowing to the Buddhist priests, to say the least of it.
In some way the dead and gone religions should be represented. There might be histrionic substitutes (a sort of pious theater for church members, even preachers), for priests and teachers of Egypt and Assyria and Phenicia. They might at least build a duplicate of Nebuchadnezzar's lofty statue of Bel Merodach. The Greek and Roman temples should be reproduced, and learned men personating the soothsayers should show the moderns how to predict future events by watching the flight of birds or gazing upon the entrails of a sheep. If the false religions are to be honored, give the dead ones a chance.
And why not ask Herbert Spenser to make an exhibit of agnosticism?
A "complete exhibit of religions"! Was such a phrase ever penned before? What will be exhibited? Doctrine? Government? Experience? What is there to show? Will they debate doctrine, or settle disputed questions by arbitration? Will they argue about government, or tell experience, or only brag about numbers? If this last, the game is lost by Protestantism to the Romanists, by Christianity to Mohammedanism, by all to bold and dirty heathenism.
A friend just from China and Japan tells me of a Buddhist priest from Tokio making ready to appear in behalf of his idolatries, and make an exhibit of his religion. Unless he should bring with him the hundreds of millions of his debased people, his exhibit at least will be imperfect. The brazen impudence of an invitation to a Congress of religions that puts a Christian missionary in Japan on an equality with a Buddhist priest is absolutely stunning. And Romanists—following red hotter cardinals representing the pope and the horrible history behind him—are asked to palaver with Protestant preachers of the gospel. The whole conception is preposterous—the gathering of an ecclesiastical menagerie as diverse as that which floated in Noah's ark.
Why should the Methodist Episcopal Church South care for representation there—in that crowd? Why should we be longing for recognition at Chicago—in this congress of all sorts from Methodists down to Asiatic idolaters?
It is true that the outside world has not recognized this Methodist Episcopal Church South; but God has recognized us, and during the last twenty-five years no church has grown so fast. This itching to be seen and known and recognized of men is not wholesome. If we will only stand by our work of saving souls, if we will only repent of the worldliness that is spreading among us like a (fretting) leprosy, if we will only return to the simplicity and earnestness of our Methodism, we need not worry about being in this Chicago game of brag. A thousand revivals of religion—pure and undefiled—between now and September, 1893, will be worth more to us than the recognition of all the world.
THE LAW OF RECOMPENSE.
THERE is no wrong, by anyone committed,
But will recoil;
Its sure return, with double ill repeated,
No skill can foil.
As on the earth the mists it yields to heaven
Descend in rain,
So on his head whoe'er has evil given,
It falls again.
It is the law of life that retribution
Shall follow wrong;
It never fails, although the execution
May tarry long.
Then let us be, with unrelaxed endeavor,
Just, true, and right,
That the great law of recompense may ever
Our hearts delight.
—Selected.
THE VIRTUE OF ENDURANCE.
By Helen Evertson Smith
BY HELEN EVERTON SMITH.
At the present time so much is said about the duty of manifesting sympathy, especially toward children in the little misfortunes which seem to them so great, that we are led to wonder whether there is not danger of showing too much pity, whether our too free and ready expressions of compassion or sympathy may not tend to weaken the resolution and force which are essential to heroism, and to consider if the latter be not too grand a quality to be thus imperiled?
In a certain family of young people of all ages from four to eighteen years, the feature of heroic endurance in all things, both physical and moral, is so marked a trait as to excite the wondering admiration of all beholders. At the same time the children are as tender of heart and compassionate as they are brave. Their parents are, the one of old New England Puritan stock, the other of purely Huguenot descent; thus the inheritance of tenderness and strength came alike from both. One might say that it was all a mere matter of inherited qualities but for the fact that two of the eight children had been adopted by a childless sister of the mother, and in these two, while the inherent courage would come to the front in cases of severe trial, it but rarely showed itself in the small frets and accidents of daily life. In a conversation with the mother this difference was mentioned, and she was asked to what she attributed it. She replied:—
"My sister and I agree perfectly in most of our methods of training, but in one we do not. I have always made it a rule to let my children see that, though I tenderly sympathized with them while they made no complaints, they could receive but scant pity from me if they sought it.218"If Jack hurt himself quite badly, when he first went to live with my sister, he might shed a tear or two, if the pain were severe, but he made no outcry and sought no aid unless it were really needed. A few days ago I was truly grieved that, when he crushed his finger in the door, he began to cry aloud, and rushed up to his aunt, who kissed his finger and bound it up amid many compassionate phrases, or others more hurtful, such as, 'Naughty door; auntie shall have to whip the door.' Unless this course be speedily altered (and it must be, or my husband and I cannot consent to leave the children with my sister), both Jack and Lucy will be ruined in this respect. They will become cowards, and cowardice is the worst of all faults; for it is the mother of all crimes."
"Of all crimes?" we asked doubtingly.
"Well"—smiling—"perhaps that is a little too strong a phrase, but truly I think that fear is the root of most sins. The boy who fears the ridicule of unworthy associates will use tobacco and, later on, strong liquors, although he may have an actual distaste for them, in order to make himself manly. He fights because he fears someone will say that he is afraid. The girl marries a man for whom she cares little or nothing because she fears she may be called an old maid; or she trails a long dress over filthy streets in a manner which is revolting to all her dainty instincts, because she fears that her dress may be ridiculed as out of style. Both men and women live beyond their means for fear they may be esteemed poor, and pretend to tastes which they have not for fear they be not thought well of. From first to last in all our lives, lies and deceit in all their shades proceed from fear of some sort."
"Not quite all," was insisted. "There are lies of jealousy, envy, covetousness, malice, even of benevolence."
"Even these," continued the mother, "may usually be traced to some form of fear. Jealousy is a fear that someone else may be better loved or more highly favored than we; envy is a fear that someone may surpass us; malice itself is more often aroused by fear than by any other one of a half dozen motives; even benevolent lies are probably induced by a fear of ill consequences to others if the truth be told."
Whether the speaker was quite right in her reasoning it is not now necessary to discuss; we would only draw attention to the value of an early training in habits of endurance.
A little girl of four years, the granddaughter of a once famous American statesman, was playing in the parlor of his fine old-fashioned country house. The yawning fireplace of more ancient days had been filled in with brick, in order that a modern stove might be used. Against a lower corner of this brick-work rested a piece of polished iron about eighteen inches square and nearly an inch thick. What was behind that piece of iron had often puzzled the child, and the answer that it "covered the opening left in the brick-work, so that straw could be thrust up the chimney and lighted to burn it out without removing the stove," conveyed no meaning to her perplexed mind. In her eyes the queer square of iron covered the entrance to some enchanted region where little girls must necessarily delight to go.
Accordingly, with all her little strength, she tugged away the barrier. She saw an irregular opening, and caught a gleam of sunlight filtering down the flue. She sought to look further; but the iron was too heavy, and fell from the tiny fingers upon the tiny toes with crushing weight. The stately old grandfather raised the iron and took the silent child upon his knee. Kissing her, he said kindly:—
"It must have hurt you very much, my pet."
The little face was all a-quiver with pain; tears stood in the brave brown eyes, and the words faltered as they came:—
"I dess it's on'y for 'ittle w'ile."
"That's right, darling," said the child's mother, gently removing shoe and stocking from the little foot, now found to have been seriously hurt; "that's right! Mother's brave little girl knows that crying only makes the hurt last longer."
The poor baby could not keep the tears from running down her little cheeks, pale from suffering; but she did refrain from making the least outcry, or even moan. After she had been carried away in her mother's arms, to sleep away the exhaustion of pain, her grandfather, with tears of pity and admiration in his eyes, said emphatically:—
"I have always loved my daughter-in-law, but never have I admired her so much as today. She is teaching her children to be heroes. That child will make her mark in the world some day, God bless her."
The grandsire was right. The child became a woman of marked character and ability. She was but nineteen at the outbreak of our Civil War, but such was her ardor and enthusiasm, tempered by reason and strengthened by courage, that she was among the first to enter into hospital service, working until carried off by a fever almost at the close of the war.
This noble woman's childish training in habits of endurance would have proved equally useful to her in any vocation. There is not a possible career in which we are not called upon to meet hardships of one sort or another. Has one done one's best, striving honorably to deserve only commendation, and then won but blame or ridicule, the weakness of yielding to mortification can but render the matter worse. Is one reproved, even harshly, one may make the admonition fruitful of good results. Sickness, misfortune, poverty, disillusion, even undeserved shame and death itself, lose half their terrors when bravely faced and endured. In a measure this lesson can be taught to the youngest; the oldest cannot afford to cease from learning it. To grow strong by suffering, one must have learned to endure hardships with fortitude. Suffering of any sort, not so borne, is debilitating, enervating, destructive.
How much of future strength depends upon early training in the exercise of true courage, comparatively few seem to remember. It is so easy to pity, caress, and openly sympathize with a sobbing child, so hard to treat its hurts—whether moral or physical—with a touch as firm as tender, being brave, that the child may also be brave. Yet it is as undoubtedly a duty to teach fortitude as it is to teach truthfulness. If the mother whose opinions have been quoted, be correct in her views, truthfulness itself is largely dependent upon courage. A naturally timid person may, indeed, be also natively honest; yet it seems almost impossible for such a person to retain absolute honesty of word and act; and the most unhappy of mortals are those who have not the courage to support the real truthfulness of their natures.—The Independent.
BE PATIENT WITH THE LIVING.
By Anonymous
Dear friends, when you and I are gone
Beyond earth's weary labor,
When small our need of help or love
From comrade or from neighbor,
Past all the strife, the toil, the care,
Past all the sorrows, grief, and sighing,
What do we gain, what do we lose,
Alas! by simply dying?
Then lips too chary of their praise
Will tell our merit over,
And eyes too blind our faults to see
Shall no defect discover.
Then hands that would not lift a stone,
When stones were thick to cumber,
Upon our graves will scatter flowers
When we unconscious slumber.
Dear friend, perchance both you and I,
Ere love is past forgiving,
Should take the earnest lesson home—
"Be patient with the living."
To-day's repressed rebuke may save
Our blinding tears to-morrow,
Then patient, e'en when keenest edged,
May whet a nameless sorrow.
"Tis easy to be gentle when
Death's silence shames our clamor,
And easy to discern the best
Through memory's mystic glamour,
But wise it were for you and me,
Ere love is past forgiving,
To take the tender lesson home—
"Be patient with the living."
—Anonymous.
Providence Glorified in Relief
By Matthew Henry
God sometimes permits his people, by their own improvidence, to bring themselves into distress, that the wisdom, power, and goodness of his providence may be glorified in relief.—Matthew Henry.
GOD'S LOVE.
Human love may change. The friendship of last year has grown cold. The gentleness of yesterday has turned to severity. But it is never thus with God's love. It is eternal. Our experience may be variable, but there is no variableness in the love. Our lives may change; our consciousness of his love may fade out; but the love clings forever. The gentleness of God abides eternal. "For the mountains shall depart and the hills be moved; but my kindness shall not depart from thee, neither shall the covenant of my peace be removed, saith the Lord that hath mercy on thee."
There is never a moment, nor any experience in the life of a true Christian, from the heart of which a message may not instantly be sent up to God, and back to which help may not instantly come. God is not off in some remote heaven merely. He is not always at the top step of the life ladder, looking down in serene calm and watching us as we struggle upward in pain and tears. He is with each one of us on every part of the way. His promise of presence is an eternal present tense: "I am with thee." So "thou, God, seest me" becomes to the believer a most cheering and inspiring assurance. We are never out of God's sight for a moment. His eye watches each one of us continually, and his heart is in his eye. He comes instantly to our help and deliverance when we are in any need or danger.—Bits of Pasture.
A NEEDLE'S VALUE.
A RECENT traveler among the Eskimo lands speaks of the little sewing needle as a priceless treasure. He says: "The conditions of life of these people, and the value in their eyes of articles which to us are so insignificant and common that we think no more of them than we do of breathing, are almost beyond our conception.
"Imagine, for example, one of these Eskimo women, whose duty it is to make the garments of her husband, herself, and her children; and an idea of the amount of work that this means may be obtained when I say that the bird-skin shirt, an indispensable article of dress of every individual, young and old, is made up of from seventy to one hundred bird skins, neatly sewed together—imagine, say, a woman situated like this and having during her entire lifetime but one opportunity to obtain a needle. When that one opportunity is offered, if it can be obtained in no other way, she gives for it all she possesses, and once the shining bit of steel is in her possession, an ivory case is made for it, and the case is immediately fastened permanently about the owner's neck.
"If she breaks the point of the needle, she searches perhaps for days until she finds a bit of stone fine enough and sharp enough to grind a new point on the needle. If she breaks the eye, the shank of the needle is laboriously etched and roughened with stones until she can attach the sinew which forms her thread, in the same way that the shoemaker attaches his waxed thread to his bristle. And when the owner dies, the precious article is handed down to her favorite daughter."—Selected.
CROUP AND COLDS.
By Editor
A WRITER in the Housekeeper has the following sensible words on the above subject, the editor supplementing with a note saying that instead of violent rubbing "use a brisk application of salt and cool water, drying thoroughly with a soft towel." And we would add that moderately cold cloths have had equally good effect, according to our observation, as cloths wrung out of ice water, and do not shock a nervous patient so much. With these remarks we give the remedy as one most worthy of application:—
Croup is a word that strikes terror to the heart of every mother. Whoever has heard the clanging cough, the choked breathing, and seen the flushed faces of the little sufferers, will never forget the experience nor fail to recognize the symptoms.
For a long time croup was one of the bugbears of my existence. My children are all predisposed to it, and the least relaxation of vigilance on my part meant a night of disturbed rest. A fire must be made and water heated, onions must be fried, and I usually sat up from one to three hours with the child's feet to the fire. I could look back and laugh at the remembrance, if it were not for the suffering of the child.
In the first place I have learned to not keep the children housed too closely. They are warmly dressed as soon as the first cool days come; then, unless it is damp or stormy, they are turned out to play every day. Thus they are accustomed to exposure, and do not readily take cold.
If one of them wakes with the croup, I light the night lamp, fold a soft cloth so it will make four or six thicknesses around the neck, then dip it into the coldest water in the house. Unfasten the child's clothes, wring the cloth as dry as possible, and place it around the child's neck, covering with a thick dry cloth and a piece of oilcloth. In five minutes from the time I heard the cough, I am back to bed with the little one tucked down between Ted and me, to avoid any possibility of its losing the pack. The child will seldom cough the second time.
In using this treatment several things are imperative. The water must be cold, ice water is best, and the cloth wrung dry. The child must be kept warm, for the pack soon grows steaming warm and a chill then means a fresh cold. In the morning, when the pack is removed, rub the skin with a towel until it burns, and the cure is complete. Care must be taken for a few days, however, that the child takes no more cold. I have found this method to cure more rapidly than all the alum and sugar. Hive sirup, and fried onions I ever219heard of. The most severe cases will yield at once.
For a cold in either children or adults the hot-water treatment is excellent. Just before going to bed immerse the feet in hot water and fill the teapot one-third full of very hot water. Close the lid and take the nozzle in your mouth. Inhale the steam and exhale through your nostrils. Continue until the head and throat have become loosened; dry the feet; then go quickly to bed and sweat away your cold. These are tried remedies in our family, never known to fail.
SOMETHING FOR THE GIRLS.
By J. W. Kirton, LL.D.
LEARN to keep house. If you would be a level-headed woman, if you would have right instincts and profound views, and that most subtle, graceful, and irresistible of all things, womanly charm; if you would make your pen, your music, your accomplishments tell, and would give them body, character, and life; if you would be a woman of genuine power, and queen o'er all the earth, learn to keep house thoroughly and practically. You see the world all awry, and are consumed with a desire to set it right. Must you go on a mission to the heathen? Very well, but learn to keep house first. Begin reform where all true reform must begin, at the center, and work outwards, at the foundation, and work upwards.
What is the basis and center of all earthly life?—It is the family, the home; these relations dictate and control all others. There is nothing from which this distracted world is suffering so much to-day as for want of thorough housekeeping and homemaking. It is the cause of heathendom the world over. "What," I hear you cry, "become a household drudge, with all my classics, mathematics, science, and music, and my abounding sympathy and enthusiasm!" As to all the drudgery, the highest motive invariably precludes it, and if you master the business, it can never master you; and, though your education may be too broad for the hospital, the studio, or the schoolroom, it can never be too broad for the model home, and I engage that you will never have any wisdom too deep, or sympathy and enthusiasm too large, for the infinite variety and delicacy of relation and situation incident to a household with children and servants.
If school has unfitted you for domestic life, there is reason to fear that your education has been narrow and on a low plane. It is only the literary dabbler, and the woman whose social position is not assured, who thinks domestic care and work degrading. A woman of first-class literary reputation and of highest social position recently said to me, "Housekeeping is primary." Her housekeeping is perfect and her writing most effective. So true is it that in a woman's life domestic education is the basis of all other education that, without it, you may well fear fatal weakness in any work you may undertake.—J. W. Kirton, LL.D.
THE SOLOMON ISLANDERS.
A PASSENGER from the Solomon Islands, one who has had some years' experience trading with the natives, and who arrived recently in Sydney, gives a melancholy account of life among the black fellows. One might have thought that the days of head hunting were at an end, and that in view of the commercial intercourse which for many years has been carried on between the whites and the islanders of the Solomons, this barbarous custom would have passed with many others into history. But it appears that quite the contrary is the fact. Head hunting is openly carried on both at Malayta and San Cristoval, and the native is regarded as young and inexperienced by his fellows who has not shed human blood.
Then, as to cannibalism, it is undoubted that it exists and is largely practiced by certain tribes. The custom is to cut up the bodies of the victims and sell them piecemeal, pretty much after the style of an itinerant butcher, and evidence in the shape of human bones left after the cannibal feasts is abundant on the islands. To what fearful extent it is carried on in the bush on Malayta or San Cristoval can only be conjectured from what12is absolutely known to occur on the coast.
It is said to be more than a white man's life is worth to venture far inland, or for the matter of that a black fellow's either, if he belongs to a beach tribe, for the "man of the bush" is by no means particular.
Why they tolerate a white man's presence at all on their territory is explained, apparently, by the fact that they are fond of tobacco and of a few manufactured wares he is in a position to supply them with.
He receives in return copra, bèche de mer, or ivory nut, and the intercourse is so far mutually satisfactory; but there are few, if any, white men who would care to trust themselves far away from their hut or store without firearms, for, however friendly the natives in the immediate vicinity may appear, there are few to be implicitly trusted.—San Francisco Chronicle.
FACE THESE FACTS.
Total Abstainers.—The most painstaking observations on the part of life insurance experts show that a man who is physically sound and in every way temperate in his habits at the age of twenty years may expect to live 44.2 years. The long black line stands for the total abstainer.
The Tippler.—The United Kingdom of Temperance and General Provident Institute of London has been selling insurance since 1840. Since 1847 it has had two classes of risks,—first, total abstainers; second, tipplers or moderate drinkers. These two classes have been kept entirely distinct. During a period of 45 years, from 1847 to 1892, it was found that the average life of the tippler was just 28 per cent. shorter than the average life of the total abstainer. While total abstainers live on an average of 44.2 years after the age of twenty, the tippler lives an average of only 31.6 years. The middle line stands for the tippler.
The Drinker — Careful observations made by F. G. P. Nelson, of London, show that men who are drinkers at twenty will only live on the average 15.5 years. The short black line stands for the drinker.—Selected.
FAMILY RELIGION.
By De Witt Talmage
WHILE we are to use common sense in every direction respecting a child, the first thing is to strive for its conversion, and there is nothing more potent than family prayers. No child ever gets over having heard his parents pray for him. We had many sound thrashings when a boy, but the most memorable scene of all was father and mother at morning and evening prayers. Your son may go to the ends of the earth, and run through the whole catalogue of transgression, but he will remember the family altar, and it will be a check and a call and perhaps his redemption.
Family prayers are often of no use. Perhaps they are too hurried. We have so much before us of the day's work that we hustle the children together. We get half through the chapter before the family are seated. We read as if we are reading for a wager. We drop on our knees, and are in the second or third sentence before they all get down. It is an express train, with amen for the first depot.
Better have given them a kiss all around; it would have taken less time and would have been more acceptable to God and them.
Family prayers often fail in adaptedness. Do not read for the morning lesson a genealogical chapter or about Sampson's setting the foxes' tails on fire. For all the good your children get from such reading you might as well have read a Chinese almanac. Rather give the story of Jesus and the children climbing into his arms, or the lad with the loaves and fishes, or the Sea of Galilee dropping to sleep under Christ's lullaby. Stop and ask questions. Make the exercises so interesting that little Johnny will stop playing with his shoe strings and Jenny will quit rubbing the cat's fur the wrong way. Let the prayer be pointed and made up of small words, and no wise information to the Lord about things he knows without your telling him. Let the children feel that they are prayed for. Have a hymn if any of you can sing. Let the season be spirited, appropriate, and gladly solemn.—T. De Witt Talmage.
NAOMI'S QUESTION TO RUTH.
By Whiting Bancroft
BY WHITING BANCROFT.
"WHERE hast thou gleaned to-day?"
'Tis a voice of the olden time,
Awakening echoes from far away,
To surge in a solemn chime.
"Where hast thou gleaned to-day?"
Bring the searching question home;
The distant hills are growing gray
In the gathering night shade's gloom.
"Where hast thou gleaned to-day?"
The harvest indeed is great;
The Lord of the harvest pray;
The fields for the gleaners wait.
"Where hast thou gleaned to-day?"
Hast thou followed those who reap?
Or do the fields by thy delay
Their scattered stalks still keep?
"Where hast thou gleaned to-day?"
Hast thou sat with folded hands,
Or idly loitered by the way,
Aloof from the reaper bands?
The fields stretch far and wide,
And before we kneel to pray,
May we ask at each eventide,
"Where have I gleaned to-day?"
—Selected.
LUTHERAN MISSIONARY WORK.
THE Lutheran Witness states that German Lutheran missionaries have met with gratifying success among the Mohammedan Malays, on the island of Sumatra, 12,000 of whom have become professing Christians. The General Council will also, in the near future, send more men to their field in Rajahmundry, India.
The same paper says that the Berlin City Mission Society is more successful than ever in its sermon distribution. The weekly edition is now 130,000. Of these 18,000 are used in Berlin among those whose work does not permit them to attend the church services; 67,000 go to other parts of Prussia, 25,000 to other German countries, and 6,500 to other parts of Europe. The Dresden Society publishes an edition of 12,000 each week, of which about 1,300 go to other countries than Saxony.
Beer-Making Grain and Human Sustenance
The land in Germany devoted to the production of grain used in the manufacture of beer, would support 50,000,000 people.
Lager Beer and Boys in Saloons
The chief of police in Baltimore says that he never found boys in the saloons until lager beer was introduced and games prepared to entice them in.
A DOG'S DELIRIUM TREMENS.
An English mastiff died recently at Winchester, O., from the effects of alcoholism. The dog had, it is reported, been a hard whisky drinker for more than a year.
SOUTH AFRICA.
By I. J. Hankins
BY I. J. HANKINS.
NEARLY five years' residence in Africa brings us to the close of 1892. With deep interest we have entered upon our fourth annual meeting. We look back to the time when the mission board met on the veranda of our rented home to transact business. How small the work then just commenced! Our numbers in Cape Colony were small, though in the "Diamond Fields" there were some forty obeying the truth.
The first baptism took place from our dining room window, where steps were built down to a temporary baptismal font erected in the yard. Joy filled our hearts as eleven dear souls acknowledged to the world their reception of the precious light of the gospel. This same dining room was our depository, and, shelved to the ceiling, it contained more reading matter than we knew how to get before the public, as our workers were few and our experience limited. In fact, the whole house was a depository, the cases of books being stored in the hall, under the beds, and in every available place, till the family was almost crowded into the street.
Another year, and the "Somerset" property was purchased, which, with its commodious dining room for meetings, and its more ample accommodation for books, as well as for the mission family, seemed like a paradise compared to the outgrown mission home in No. 5 Scott Street.
Before we were fairly settled in our new home, the first general meeting convened at Cape Town, and was held in the dining room of the "Somerset House." About twenty from Wellington and Kimberley were entertained at this meeting.
The following year the annual meeting was held in Kimberley, and in the mean time Elder Haskell had paid us a timely visit, and Brother and Sister Druillard were added to our working force. The new chapel, of corrugated iron, with a seating capacity of about 150, afforded ample accommodation for our growing mission.
Two years ago our annual gathering was held in Cape Town, just before Elder Boyd's departure to America. To accommodate the brethren at this time it was necessary to pitch a large tent for services, and two small tents for lodging. A few days after this meeting convened, Brother E. M. Morrison arrived from Australia to give instruction in the canvassing work, which instruction was highly appreciated, and added much to the efficiency of our workers. Several new canvassers entered the field, and the work was more thoroughly systematized than it had been previously.
The churches in this field are so far apart, and the cost of calling the canvassers together so great, that we thought best not to try to hold a general meeting last year. About the time when such meeting should have been held, Elder Robinson and party arrived from America, and soon after visited the different churches in this field.
In April, following his arrival in January, the new church in Cape Town was dedicated, which, with its convenient and commodious depository underneath, seems like a paradise compared with the outgrown mission home in "Somerset House."
We deeply felt the need of such building at our meeting two years ago, and also of a college building, and endeavored to devise some plan by which to bring about our desires; but in vain. Nor did we hardly dare to hope that we should see in so short a time the buildings which are now completed, ready for occupancy.
This meeting upon which we have just entered is being held in the dining room of the new college building, and the representatives from the different churches are being accommodated in the building, which thus constitutes both a chapel and a home, temporarily.
Professor Miller and wife, Professor Lindsey and Miss Peck arrived safely the 23d of November, much to the joy and satisfaction of our brethren throughout this field. The last lot of college furniture, which came in sailing vessel from New York, was unloaded at the college on the same day that Professor Miller and party arrived. With the exception of a few broken mirrors and other slight breaks, the furniture came in excellent condition.
As far as I know, there is a feeling of general satisfaction in regard to the seats, furniture, etc., sent us from home. It is now pretty nearly all put together, and is in use, as far as needed, by the guests of the college home, who are attending the fourth annual meeting of S. D. Adventists in South Africa.
This is by far the largest meeting we have ever held in this field, every church and company of Sabbath keepers being fairly well represented. Last Sabbath morning our Sabbath school numbered 130.
After the Sabbath school Elder Robinson spoke of the spirit that should characterize our work, and in the afternoon a praise service was held. The Spirit of the Lord came into our hearts as we listened to the cheering testimonies borne, and we felt that it was good to be there. The experiences of the canvassers were especially interesting and encouraging. Several expressed their love for the work, and the sacrifice it would be to be separated from it.
Sunday morning, December 4, a preliminary business meeting was held. The proceedings of the session will be given in the next issue.
In the afternoon of the same day Brother Peter Wessels spoke to the Dutch brethren and sisters, from Rev. 3:20. We are glad to say that some of the same blessings which are being bestowed on the faithful in America, and in other fields, are also being received in this far-away land. On behalf of the friends in South Africa, I would say that we are very grateful for the good help the Central Conference has sent us from time to time. There never has been a time when the future outlook221seemed more favorable for the work in this field than the present. Our brethren desire to move forward in harmony with the great body, and to join them in the final triumph of victory over sin and over Satan, and to share with them the blessings of the redeemed.