FROM June 11 to 13, I was at Napa, where Brethren Healey and St. John are holding a tent-meeting. Present truth was first presented in this place by a tent-meeting thirteen years ago this month. The following season a neat and comfortable house of worship was erected. A number of those who formed the church at that time have either died or moved away. A few are holding on to the truth, but some of these are aged and quite feeble. It was the desire of the church that the tent should be pitched, and thereby some strength be imparted to their number. I was glad to find some interest to hear, and had the privilege of speaking twice while there. The congregations at that time averaged from fifty to seventy-five.
From the 13th to the 17th, I was at our Health Retreat at St. Helena. I found that institution progressing favorably, the family of helpers and patients comprising seventy souls. About every available place in our building and the surrounding cottages is full. The new addition will very soon be completed, which will give us much better facilities for treatment, and will furnish room for the accommodation of patients. A marked degree of success has attended the treatment given at the institution, and its influence is extending. While humbly moving forward, we expect the blessing of God to second our efforts at the Rural Health Retreat.
June 18, I was at Healdsburg. Here our people are engaged in erecting a house of worship. The building is on the lot adjoining our College building. The edifice is to consist of two parts, all on the ground floor. The main building, or auditorium, is, on the plan, 64x96 feet, with a transverse section in the rear 40x90. The latter is to be divided by sliding doors into five rooms, which can be used for Sabbath-school, and class rooms for the College. The foundation of the building is laid, and the work upon the frame is progressing. We hope during this summer season to get the building enclosed, at least. Healdsburg church alone would not need a building of that size; but the College calls our students there, which makes a necessity for more meeting room. Many in the Healdsburg church have subscribed nobly for the enterprise; if all do as well as these, the building will go up without any hitch. Healdsburg, being the place of our College, is missionary ground, and we doubt not that our people in other parts of the State will esteem it a privilege to aid in this enterprise.
June 19 and 20, I was with the church at Santa Rosa. Here is the first Seventh-day meeting-house that was erected on the Pacific Coast. The time of my meeting was the time of the annual election of trustees. Although the church has an enrolled membership of over fifty members, so many of them are non-resident that it required some special effort to get a sufficient number together to hold the election. I gave three discourses to interested audiences. After one of these discourses five trustees were elected for the next year.
IT was in accordance with the character of the discourse presently under consideration, that Jesus spake it, not, indeed, in parables in the strict sense (for none such are recorded in the fourth gospel), but in an allegory in the parabolic form, hiding the higher truths from those who, having eyes, had not seen, but revealing them to such whose eyes had been opened. If the scenes of the last few days had made anything plain, it was the utter unfitness of the teachers of Israel for their professed work of feeding the flock of God. The rabbinists also called their spiritual leaders "feeders," Parnasin—a term by which the Targum renders some of the references to "the shepherds" in Ezek. 34 and Zech. 11. The term comprised the two ideas of "leading" and "feeding," which are separately insisted on in the Lord's allegory. As we think of it, no better illustration, nor more apt, could be found for those to whom "the flock of God" was entrusted.
THEY were, surely, not shepherds, who had cast out the healed blind man, or who so judged of the Christ, and would cast out all his disciples. They had entered into God's sheepfold, but not by the door by which the owner, God, had brought his flock into the fold. To it the entrance had been his free love, his gracious provision, his thoughts of pardoning, his purpose of saving mercy. That was God's Old Testament door into his sheepfold. Not by that door, as had so lately fully appeared, had Israel's rulers come in. They had climbed up to their place in the fold some other way—with the same right, or by the same wrong, as a thief or a robber. They had wrongfully taken what did not belong to them—cunningly and undetected, like a thief; they had allotted it to themselves, and usurped it by violence, like a robber. What more accurate description could be given of the means by which the Pharisees and Sadducees had attained the rule over God's flock, and claimed it for themselves? And what was true of them holds equally so of all who, like them, enter by "some other way."
HOW DIFFERENT he who comes in and leads us through God's door of covenant mercy and gospel promise—the door by which God had brought, and ever brings, his flock into his fold! This was the true Shepherd. The allegory must, of course, not be too closely pressed; but, as we remember how in the East the flocks are at night driven into a large fold, and charge of them is given to an under shepherd, we can understand how, when the shepherd comes in the morning, "the doorkeeper," or "guardian," opens to him. In interpreting the allegory, stress must be laid not so much on any single phrase, be it the "porter," the "door," or the "opening," as on their combination. If the shepherd comes to the door, the porter hastens to open it to him from within, that he may obtain access to the flock; and when a true spiritual shepherd comes to the true spiritual Door, it is opened to him by the guardian from within, that is, he finds ready and immediate access.
CHRIST was the Door. The entrance into God's fold and to God's flock was only through that of which Christ was the reality. And it had ever been so. All the Old Testament institutions, prophecies, and promises, so far as they referred to access into God's fold, meant Christ. All of those who went before him, pretending to be the door—whether Pharisees, Sadducees, or Nationalists—were only thieves and robbers; that was not the door into the kingdom of God. And the sheep, God's flock, did not hear them; for, although they might pretend to lead the flock, the voice was that of strangers. The transition now to another application of the allegorical idea of the "door" was natural and almost necessary, though it appears somewhat abrupt. Even in this it is peculiarly Jewish. We must understand this transition as follows: I am the Door; those who professed otherwise to gain access to the fold have climbed in some other way. But if I am the only, I am also truly the Door.
CHRIST the good Shepherd, in contrast to others who falsely claimed to be the shepherds. Their object had been self, and they had pursued it even at the cost of the sheep, of their life and safety. He "came" for them, to give, not to take, "that they may have life and have abundance." "Life,"—nay, that they may have it, I "lay down" mine; so does it appear that "I am the good Shepherd." What a contrast to a mere hireling, whose are not the sheep, and who fleeth at sight of the wolf (danger), "and the wolf seizeth them, and scattereth (viz., the flock); (he fleeth) because he is a hireling, and careth not for the sheep."
TRULY he is—is seen to be—"the fair Shepherd," whose are the sheep, and as such, "I know mine, and mine know me, even as the Father knoweth me, and I know the Father. And I lay down my life for the sheep." But those sheep, they are not only "of this fold," nor all of the Jewish "fold," but also scattered sheep of the Gentiles. They have all the characteristics of the flock; they are his; and they hear his voice; but as yet they are outside the fold. Them also the good Shepherd "must lead," and, in evidence that they are his, as he calls them and goes before them, they shall hear his voice, and so, O most glorious consummation, "they shall become one flock and one shepherd."
AND thus is the great goal of the Old Testament reached, and "the good tidings of great joy," which issue from Israel, "are unto all people." . . . . Whence did Jesus of Nazareth obtain these thoughts and views, towering so far aloft of all around? The sublime words of Jesus are only compatible with one supposition—that he was indeed the Christ of God. Nay, although men have studied or caviled at these words for eighteen and a half centuries, they have not yet reached unto this: "They shall become one flock, and one Shepherd."
YES—by laying down his life, but also by taking it up again. Both are necessary for the work of the good Shepherd—nay, the life is laid down in the surrender of sacrifice, in order that it may be taken up again, and much more fully, in the resurrection power. And, therefore, his Father loveth him as the Messiah-Shepherd, who so fully does the work committed to him, and so entirely surrenders himself to it. And this, all this, in order to be the Shepherd-Saviour—to die, and rise for his sheep, and thus to gather them all, Jews and Gentiles, into one flock, and to be their Shepherd. This, neither more nor less, was the mission which God had given him; this, "the commandment" which he had received of his Father—that which God had given him to do.
—Edersheim's Life and Times of Jesus the Messiah.
THE LAW OF GOD.
Redeemed From the Curse of the Law.
(Lesson 13.—Sabbath, July 17.)
1. FROM what has Christ redeemed us?
"Christ hath redeemed us from the curse of the law." Gal. 3:13.
2. What is the keeping of the commandments?
"For this is the love of God, that we keep his commandments; and his commandments are not grievous." 1 John 5:3.
3. If keeping the commandments is love, can it also be the curse of which Paul speaks? Certainly not; a thing cannot at the same time be love and a curse.
4. Upon whom does the curse of the law fall?
"For as many as are of the works of the law are under the curse; for it is written, Cursed is every one that continueth not in all things which are written in the book of the law to do them." Gal. 3:10. See Jer. 11:3, 4.
5. What is the curse for disobedience?
"For the wages of sin is death; but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord." Rom. 6:23.
6. How many people have been perfectly obedient?
"What then? are we better than they? No, in no wise; for we have before proved both Jews and Gentiles, that they are all under sin; as it is written, There is none righteous, no, not one." "For all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God." Rom. 3:9, 10, 23.
7. Then upon how many does the curse of the law come?
"Now we know that what things soever the law saith, it saith to them who are under the law; that every mouth may be stopped, and all the world may become guilty before God." Rom. 3:19.
8. How many, consequently, stand in need of redemption? All the world.
9. How has Christ redeemed us from the curse of the law?
"Christ hath redeemed us from the curse of the law, being made a curse for us; for it is written, Cursed is every one that hangeth on a tree." Gal. 3:13.
10. How was he made a curse for us? Ib.
11. What does this prove the curse of the law to be? Death.
12. Having suffered the curse of the law, death, what does he give to those who believe in him?
"For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life." John 3:16.
13. For what is the blessing of life promised?
"And the law is not of faith; but, The man that doeth them shall live in them." Gal. 3:12. "And he said unto him, Why callest thou me good? there is none good but one, that is, God; but if thou wilt enter into life, keep the commandments." Matt. 19:17.
14. And what is inseparably connected with faith?
"Do we then make void the law through faith? God forbid; yea, we establish the law." Rom. 3:31. "Here is the patience of the saints; here are they that keep the commandments of God and the faith of Jesus." Rev. 14:12.
15. How only is it possible to keep the commandments, and thus gain the blessing of life?
"Abide in me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself, except it abide in the vine, no more can ye, except ye abide in me. I am the vine, ye are the branches. He that abideth in me, and I in him, the same bringeth forth much fruit; for without me ye can do nothing." John 15:4, 5. "But without faith it is impossible to please him; for he that cometh to God must believe that he is, and that he is a rewarder of them that diligently seek him." Heb. 11:6.
Stewards of Our Possessions
By Edward Judson
I saw a man in the mint at San Francisco handling bricks of gold. All he was paid was five dollars a day, and yet millions passed through his hands. Let us realize that we are simply handling our possessions in the interests of our Master. We have a right to take out only what is needed for subsistence; the rest we are to pass along.—Rev. Edward Judson.
Amy's Lesson.
"If there is anything in this world that I despise, it is selfishness," said Amy, looking up with a flash in her blue eyes, and a shake of her golden curls, as if she were challenging some one to oppose her. "The girl in this book is horrid, just horrid! She never makes a single sacrifice, she won't give up her own way for anybody, and all the time she seems to think that she is perfectly lovely. I dislike that sort of character; don't you, Uncle John?" appealing for sympathy to a gentleman who was reading his evening paper in a chair under the great oak tree in the garden.
Amy herself was cosily lying in a beautiful striped hammock, which was swung in the very cosiest corner of the veranda. Her golden head rested on a scarlet pillow, and a light wrap of Shetland wool lay in scarlet meshes over her fleecy white dress. She made a pretty picture, and was as easy and luxurious as possible, in attitude and occupation.
"Yes, dear," said Uncle John; "selfishness is very hateful. Few of us can endure it—in other people," he added after a pause.
"Now, Uncle John, that isn't fair." Amy's tone was a little petulant, and a frown came on the smooth forehead as she turned to her interesting book.
Presently Aunt Nanny came, rather feebly, out from the parlor. She had been ill, and her face was very pale. It did not enter Amy's mind that aunty would like to be pillowed in the hammock, not even when Uncle John, springing to his feet, gave his arm to the invalid, and, resigning his own chair, seated her in it, taking a less comfortable one himself.
"Amy! Amy, darling!" This time it was mamma who called.
"Well, mother!"
"I want you, dear, to go upon an errand. Come at once, Amy."
"Can't Johnny go, mamma?"
The little figure in the hammock did not move until an answer was returned, in quite decided tones.
"No, Amy; I want you."
"That's always the way. Just as I get to the very best part of a story, I always have to leave it. Nobody else is ever interrupted as I am."
"Poor Amy!" said Aunt Nanny. "She would be so sweet if she were not so very selfish. Is it not a pity?"
And Uncle John observed, "Yet she does not think herself selfish."
"She is not wholly selfish," said grandpa, who had observed the little scene. "She is always ready to share a treat with others, and she is very amiable so long as she is having a pleasant time, and is not disturbed in her own pursuits. That little outburst about the heroine of the story was quite genuine. Amy only needs to see herself as others see her, to turn over a new leaf."
"I wish Amy might have an object lesson," said Aunt Nanny, who was now reposing in the hammock, to which she had been gently lifted by Uncle John. "John, dear, cannot we give the dear child the sort of picture lesson she needs?"
"You cannot, Nanny," said Uncle John; "but I will try my skill at playing the part of bear."
Next morning when Amy, book in hand, came to the veranda, she found Uncle John in possession of the hammock. He hardly looked up in reply to her "Good morning;" and when, after a few moments, Aunt Nanny appeared, he went on reading as if he did not see her.
"Uncle John, Aunt Nanny is here!" said Amy.
"Oh! my dear, I'm glad you feel well enough to come out of doors," said he, hardly turning his head, while his wife sank wearily into the first chair.
Amy's eyes were widely opened. This was peculiar behavior, indeed!
"Why, uncle," she exclaimed, "I should think you would let Aunt Nanny have the hammock. It's much the nicest place for an invalid!"
"Oh! is it? I didn't know. Well, I suppose she must have it," he said, rising, with a shrug of his shoulders, but assisting the lady in, nevertheless. "I don't know why I must always be the person to be disturbed," he said, with a grimace and a yawn, as he strolled away.
"What can be the matter with Uncle John?" exclaimed Amy. "I am always so proud of him. He is so kind and good. He can't be well."
"Malaria," suggested brother Guy, gravely.
"For my part," said Aunt Nanny, "I can only observe that my husband never in his life acted in this way before; and it does look very strange."
"John!" said grandpa, coming round the corner of the house.
"Well!" replied the person addressed.
"If you are going to the village, will you call at Smith's for me and leave a message."
"H-m-m!" Replied Uncle John, doubtfully; "to call at Smith's will take me half a mile out of my way. Can't Rufus go?"
The manner was in exact imitation of Amy's usual tone when her mother proposed an errand for her.
Amy recognized it, and colored, but said nothing.
"For that matter,"—began grandpa, severely, but Uncle John interrupted him.
"Oh! I'll go, of course." Then in a lower tone, audible to Amy, but not to grandpa, "I never do plan out a morning for myself, that everybody does not break in with half a dozen things that somebody else could do perfectly well. If I could only be let alone for once!"
"Uncle John!" exclaimed Amy, "I never talk so; I never make myself so disagreeable. There!"
"Pray, who said you did?" answered Uncle John, as if in great surprise. "There was no reference to Amy that I heard."
Amy was silent and thoughtful. The day wore on. At dinner, unexpected guests came, and it was necessary for some one to wait. It must be either Amy or Johnny. Johnny had been obliged to wait so often that to-day, particularly as he had an engagement with some of his friends, his mother thought it better that Amy should do so. Amy was, as usual, beginning, "I think it's really too bad, mamma; I always am obliged to—" when a quizzical look in Uncle John's eye stopped her.
A week later, in a twilight talk with mamma, one of the sweet confidential talks which girls and mothers sometimes have, Amy confessed that she was trying to overcome her fault.
"I see how hateful it looks in others," she said. "Truly, mamma, I never thought of it before; and I did not know that I was so much like that wretched girl in the story I read, until I saw Uncle John acting precisely as I had been doing. Now, mother dear, won't you give me a text to help me along?"
And her mother gave her this one: "For even Christ pleased not himself."—Margaret E. Sangster, in Sunday School Times.
The Home Circle.
By M. Lowrie Hofford
JERUSALEM THE BEAUTIFUL.
JERUSALEM the beautiful!
Thy glories are untold,
Thy walls are built of precious stones,
Thy pavements laid with gold;
Thy mansions for the ransomed ones,
In matchless splendor shine,
Jerusalem the beautiful!
Jerusalem divine!
Jerusalem the beautiful!
Thy gates of pearly white,
To voice of prayer and song of praise,
Are open day and night;
And shining ones around the throne,
In sweeter rapture sing,
When saints on wings of faith and love,
Their songs of praises bring.
Jerusalem the beautiful!
My everlasting rest!
The glorious home of mine abode!
The city of the blest!
Thy temple is the living One,
Thy light is all divine;
Jerusalem the beautiful!
I joy to call thee mine.
—Rev. M. Lowrie Hofford, D.D., in Christian Observer.
Consideration for Others
LET me tell you there are little conspiracies all over the world against the people who think only of themselves, and are not considerate of others. I was once sitting beside a friend in the cars, when a large man entered with five members of his family. Before we saw him we heard him calling out, "Double up, gentlemen, double up, don't you see there's a family coming?" Eight or ten seats in the car were occupied by one man each. Not a person moved. Finally one man re-echoed in a waggish tone, "Why don't you double up, gentlemen, don't you see there's a family coming?" Our large friend was obliged to put his wife in one seat, his daughters in others, while he sat down by a colored woman near the door, and took his boy in his arms. If the gentleman had remembered, with a shade of regret, that it is some trouble to leave the seats in which people are comfortably arranged, and had said, "Will some of you gentlemen be so kind as to sit together to accommodate these ladies?" the matter would have been easily arranged, for most people are inclined to treat with kindness those who show themselves thoughtful for the comfort of others.—Congregationalist.
Are Twice Two Four?
Frank Galton somewhere tells an amusing story, since profusely copied by all the anthropologists, of how, during his South African wanderings, he once wanted to buy a couple of sheep from an unsophisticated heathen Damara. Current coin in that part of the world is usually represented, it seems, by cakes of tobacco, and two cakes were the recognized market price of a sheep in Damara land at the time of Mr. Galton's memorable visit. So the unsuspecting purchaser chose a couple of wethers from the flock, and, naturally enough, laid down four pieces of tobacco to pay for them before the observant face of the astonished vender.
The Damara eyed the proffered price with suspicious curiosity. What could be the meaning of this singular precipitancy? He carefully took up two pieces and placed them in front of one of the sheep; then he took up the other two pieces with much wonder and placed them in front of the other. There must be magic in it! The sum actually came out even. The Damara, for his part, didn't like the look of it. This thing was evidently uncanny. How could the supernaturally clever white man tell beforehand that two and two made four?
He felt about it, no doubt, as we ourselves should feel if a great mathematician were suddenly to calculate out for us a priori what we were going to have to-day for dinner, and how much exactly we owed the butcher. After gazing at the pat and delusive symmetry of the two sheep and the four cakes of tobacco for a brief breathing space, the puzzled savage, overpowered but not convinced, pushed away the cakes with a gesture of alarm, took back his sheep to the bosom of his flock, and began the whole transaction over again de capo. He wasn't going to be cheated out of his two sound wethers by a theoretical white man who managed bargains for live sheep on such strictly abstract mathematical principles.—Sel.
Oil Instead of Coal.
"THERE is a probability that before a very long period oil may come into general use as fuel on locomotives and steamers. Some years ago this did not seem likely, but the marvelous increase recently reported from many parts of the globe in the production of petroleum upsets all former calculations. Within the past ten years the yield from the wells in the neighborhood of the Caspian Sea has increased over 15,000 per cent., a steady gain in the production of over 1,500 per cent. per annum. The Baku wells in Russia now yield over 500,000 tons a year, and one well that has been bored in that vicinity is capable of discharging 8,000 tons a day, and will do so when the proper machinery is provided. The main objection heretofore to the use of petroleum as fuel for steamers and locomotives has been the cost; but if the oil springs up as freely as water the expense must decrease. I feel warranted, therefore, in predicting that the day is not far distant when oilers will take the place of coal-passers on many railroad and steamship lines."
This language was used by a railroad engineer, in response to the inquiry of a New York Mail and Express reporter, as to whether it was likely that the substitution of petroleum for wood and coal, on some of the Russian railroads, would have any effect in changing the present system of generating steam in this country. This subject is now being seriously agitated in England, especially by the owners and agents of the steamship lines which ply to India and China by way of the Suez Canal. The most sanguine believers in the virtues of petroleum as fuel for sea-going vessels have this programme: Steamers bound east from America will fill their bunkers at New York with petroleum from the oil regions of Pennsylvania; in England they will "oil" with American or Russian petroleum; at Suez, with the Russian or Egyptian article; at Singapore, with petroleum from Burmah; and at Hongkong, with Japanese petroleum. The recent discovery of petroleum in abundance on the west coast of the Red Sea has supplied the missing link in the long chain of travel.—Sel.
The Bottom of the Atlantic.
The soundings which were made between Ireland and Newfoundland before laying the Atlantic cable, have made the bottom of the Atlantic almost as well known as the surface of Europe and America. Professor Huxley says:—
“It is a prodigious plain—one of the widest and most prodigious plains in the world. If the sea were drained off, you might drive a wagon all the way from Valencia, on the west coast of Ireland, to Trinity Bay in Newfoundland; and, except one sharp incline about 200 miles from Valentia, I am not quite sure that it would be necessary to put on the skid, so gentle are the ascents and descents upon that long route. From Valentia the road would lie down hill for about 200 miles, to the point at which the bottom is now covered by 1,700 fathoms of sea-water. Then would come the central plain, more than 1,000 miles wide, the inequalities of the surface of which would be hardly perceptible. Beyond this, the ascent on the American side commences, and gradually leads for about 200 miles to the Newfoundland shore.”—Sel.
Don't Fret.
THE members of a "nervous," high-mettled family fretted and snarled at one another habitually until one of the circle was stricken with disease, and then the love that was deep in every heart came out. The fretting and snarling was only a habit; the love was real. Ah! that habit! Put it away from you, before a vacant chair reminds you that one of the circle will hear your voice no more.—Nashville Christian Advocate.
Health and Temperance.
By New England Farmer
A Healthful Diet.
THE custom is becoming so common in the towns and villages, at hotels as well as private houses, to have for breakfast, oatmeal, wheaten grits, or other cereals, with graham "gems" and fruit, so that the traveler or guest may choose between such diet and the usual meat and hot cake food, that our farming communities must fall into the habit sooner or later, and give their children a chance to work out their own salvation. How much clearer is the head, how much less craving is the appetite for drinks and stimulants, how much more under subjection the temper, and how much more healthful the whole system, when the food is mainly of unexciting nature, and how soon the taste is formed to enjoy it, and to cease to crave after the flesh-pots which have heretofore yielded their more noxious supplies.
There are many farmers and their wives who are considering these things, but hesitate about differing with their neighbors, or are, as is too common in this country, afraid of their children; but let them once more try a change, and have their morning and evening meals consist of grains and fruit, with well-baked bread and not always fresh and hot, and such vegetables as they desire, and milk for the children, water instead of coffee, and see if, after a sufficient length of time to produce effects, there is not more health, peace, and contentment in the household, and a consciousness that the way is not being prepared for subsequent violence and breaches of God's and man's laws, occasioned by gross appetites and indulgence.—New England Farmer.
Why High License Is Objectionable.
THE Inter-Ocean advocates high license. It claims that the Illinois law has reduced the number of saloons in that State from 13,000 to 9,000, while it has increased the revenues of the State from $200,000 to $1,500,000. This it claims is a good record, one that should satisfy the temperance people; but Helen M. Gougar takes a different view of this matter. In a letter to that journal she says:—
"By the figures given, there is an increased revenue of $1,300,000, which, it is affirmed, 'makes the evil bear a large portion of the expense.' Who pays this extra revenue? The advocate of high license will answer, 'The saloon-keeper.' Where does he get this amount of money? Surely he will not remain in business unless he can make this revenue out of his business. The men who drink at his counter pay this revenue, not the saloon-keeper. Who are these men? Very largely the working classes. Who suffers most from the payment of this 'extra revenue?' The women and children, the homes of the men who hand this revenue, ten cents at a time, over the counter of the saloons. This extra $1,500,000 revenue represents so many hungry, cold children; so many little bare-legged, bare-footed babies in 'High License Illinois.' It is a poor law and a poor Government that cannot protect its women and children better than the above statement shows that the High License Law is doing after several months' trial. If this 'extra revenue' went back into the homes of those who do the drinking it might appeal to the common sense of those who claim this to be 'blood-money.'"
This is gospel truth. There is no way to cure the evils of the liquor traffic except by abolishing it altogether. In other words the dog's tail ought to be cut off close behind the ears.—Demorest's Monthly.
The Trees of Knowledge and Life
By Quarles
It is a sad thing to be often eating of the tree of knowledge, but never to taste of the tree of life.—Quarles.
An Anti-Tobacco Protest.
By William B. Hidden
THE Rev. James Brand says: "The deterioration of the moral sense, the decay of the will power, the loss of manhood, are the characteristics of the drunkard." Is this defective condition normal or acquired? If it is both, what contributes most to its development and what can be done to arrest the decay of the will power and tone up the moral sense? It is the fashion now to turn all our heavy artillery upon the dram shops, which is only taking the animal by the tail. As a nation, we are fast becoming the devil's agents for converting tobacco into spittle and smoke. Our boys are being dwarfed and stunted, mentally and physically, by its use. Let us see what "the weed" has to do with the loss of moral sense and decay of will power and manhood.
It is a law of our being that nature accommodates herself to the gradual inroads of any poison, but always with a corresponding loss or surrender of her finer sensibilities and powers. We see the proof of this in the effect of opium and alcohol upon its devotees. Tobacco is a sedative, narcotic poison, having no elements in common with the human system, and therefore not necessary to the welfare of any human being.
It impoverishes the soil upon which it is raised. It enslaves all of those who use it, though, generally, they do not know it until they try to break up the habit. It diminishes the frequency of the heart's action and greatly increases its force, through its effects upon the brain and nerves. It invades that sacred temple of communication 'twixt earth and heaven—the brain—with influences benumbing. It depresses the system and makes many persons hanker for stimulants. Its injurious effects are in direct ratio to the effort it costs to give up its use. There is no such thing as a temperate use of tobacco or strychnine for the same reason.
Tobacco and whisky—as boon companions—enter the haunts of vice and crime. How large a proportion of the sudden deaths from heart disease, paralysis, and apoplexy are due to this agent is difficult to estimate; for, as almost every physician uses the weed, the road to investigation is blocked. Is not the use of tobacco the highway to the decay of the will-power, moral sense, and manhood? To illustrate: A father came to consult a physician—thought he had consumption. Said "he was a church member; had no desire to live except to support his family, and wished to be told frankly if he must die, of which he had no fears, thank God. Examination revealed irregular action of the heart and intense nervous depression, such as often leads men to take their own lives by various means. During this examination his wife sat near, weeping. He was told that if he continued the use of tobacco he would be his own executioner; if he left it off, it would be a terrible struggle, in which he would need divine assistance. He gave up what tobacco he had with him, and promised never to use any more; came back in three days in a pitiable condition, wholly disqualified for any mental or physical labor, but soon recovered his health and manhood. It is the observation of the writer that nine-tenths of those who have given up the use "the weed" after being under its influence, return to its use sooner or later, which shows that its wonderful power over the will is really something to be dreaded.
This national vice is as filthy as it is fashionable; as detrimental to the user as profitable to the producer, as sure in its effect upon the brain as upon the pocket of the user. It defiles God's dwelling-place (1 Cor. 3: 16, 17) as much as it does our dwellings, and the lips of God's messenger as much as the profane swearer.—Wm. B. Hidden, M. D.