Earlier text: Some One-Thousand-Dollar Reasons for Keeping SundayThe Commentary.
By Ellen G. White
NOTES ON THE INTERNATIONAL LESSON.
THE feast of tabernacles was celebrated to commemorate the time when the Hebrews dwelt in tents during their sojourn in the wilderness. While this great festival lasted, the people were required to leave their houses and live in booths made of green branches of pine or myrtle. These leafy structures were sometimes erected on the tops of the houses, and in the streets, but oftener outside the walls of the city, in the valleys and along the hill-sides. Scattered about in every direction, these green camps presented a very picturesque appearance. The feast lasted one week, and during all that time the temple was a festal scene of great rejoicing. There was the pomp of the sacrificial ceremonies; and the sound of music, mingled with hosannas, made the place jubilant. At the first dawn of day, the priests sounded a long, shrill blast upon their silver trumpets; and the answering trumpets, and the glad shouts of the people from their booths, echoing over hill and valley, welcomed the festal day. Then the priests dipped from the flowing waters of the Kedron a flagon of water, and, lifting it on high, while the trumpets were sounding, he ascended the broad steps of the temple, keeping time with the music with slow and measured tread, chanting meanwhile: "Our feet shall stand within thy gates, O Jerusalem!" He bore the flagon to the altar, which occupied a central position in the temple court. Here were two silver basins, with a priest standing at each one. The flagon of water was poured into one basin, and a flagon of wine into the other; and the contents of both flowed into a pipe which communicated with the Kedron, and was conducted to the Dead Sea. This display of the consecrated water represented the fountain that flowed from the rock to refresh the Hebrews in the wilderness. Then the jubilant strains rang forth:— "The Lord Jehovah is my strength and song;" "therefore with joy shall we draw water out of the wells of salvation!" All the vast assembly joined in triumphant chorus with musical instruments and deep-toned trumpets, while competent choristers conducted the grand harmonious concert of praise. The festivities were carried on with an unparalleled splendor. At night the temple and its court blazed so with artificial light that the whole city was illuminated. The music, the waving of palm branches, the glad hosannas, the great concourse of people, over which the light streamed from the hanging lamps, the dazzling array of the priests, and the majesty of the ceremonies, all combined to make a scene that deeply impressed all beholders. The feast was drawing to a close. The morning of the last, crowning day found the people wearied from the long season of festivity. Suddenly Jesus lifted up his voice in tones that rang through the courts of the temple:— "If any man thirst, let him come unto me, and drink. He that believeth on me, as the Scripture hath said, out of his belly shall flow rivers of living water." The condition of the331 people made this appeal very forcible. They had been engaged in a continued scene of pomp and festivity, their eyes had been dazzled with light and color, and their ears regaled with the richest music; but there had been nothing to meet the wants of the spirit, nothing to satisfy the thirst of the soul for that which perishes not. Jesus invited them to come and drink of the fountain of life, of that which should be in them a well of water springing up into everlasting life. The priest had that morning performed the imposing ceremony which represented the smiting of the rock in the wilderness and the issuing therefrom of the water. That rock was a figure of Christ. His words were the water of life. As Jesus spoke thus to the people, their hearts thrilled with a strange awe, and many were ready to exclaim, with the woman of Samaria, "Give me of this water that I thirst not." The words of the Divine Teacher presented his gospel in a most impressive figure. More than eighteen hundred years have passed since the lips of Jesus pronounced those words in the hearing of thousands of thirsty souls; but they are as comforting and cheering to our hearts today, and as full of hope, as to those who accepted them in the Jewish temple. Jesus knew the wants of the human soul. Hollow pomp, riches and honor, cannot satisfy the heart. "If any man thirst, let him come unto me." The rich, the poor, the high, the low, are alike welcomed. He promises to relieve the burdened mind, to comfort the sorrowing, and give hope to the despondent. Many of those who heard Jesus were mourners over disappointed hopes, some were nourishing a secret grief, some were seeking to satisfy the restless longing of the soul with the things of this world and the praise of men; but when all this was gained, they found that they had toiled to reach only a broken cistern, from which they could not quench their fever thirst. Amid all the glitter of the joyous scene they stood, dissatisfied and sad. The sudden cry, "If any man thirst—" startles them from their sorrowful meditation, and as they listen to the words that follow, their minds kindle with a new hope. They look upon the Lifegiver standing in majesty before them, divinity flashing through his humanity and revealing his heavenly power in words that thrill their hearts. The cry of Christ to the thirsty soul is still going forth. It appeals to us with even greater power than to those who heard it in the temple on that last day of the feast. The weary and exhausted ones are offered the refreshing draught of eternal life. Jesus invites them to rest in him. He will take their burdens. He will give them peace. Centuries before the advent of Christ, Isaiah described him as a "hiding-place from the wind," a "covert from the tempest," as "the shadow of a great rock in a weary land." All who come to Christ receive his love in their hearts, which is the water that springs up unto everlasting life. Those who receive it impart it in turn to others, in good works, in right examples, and in Christian counsel. The day was over, and the Pharisees and rulers waited impatiently for a report from the officers whom they had set upon the track of Jesus, in order to arrest him. But their emissaries return without him. They are angrily asked, "Why have ye not brought him?" The officers, with solemn countenances, answer, "Never man spake like this man." Dealing with violence and crime had naturally hardened the hearts of these men; but they were not so unfeeling as the priests and elders, who had resolutely shut out the light and given themselves up to envy and malice. The officers had heard the words of Jesus in the temple, they had felt the wondrous influence of his presence, and their hearts had been strangely softened and drawn toward him whom they were commanded to arrest as a criminal. They were unequal to the task set them by the priests and rulers; they could not summon courage to lay hands upon this pure Being who stood, with the light of Heaven upon his countenance, preaching a free salvation. As they stand excusing themselves for not obeying their orders, and saying, "Never man spake like this man," the Pharisees, enraged that even these tools of the law should be influenced by this Galilean peasant, cry out angrily:— "Are ye also deceived? Have any of the rulers or of the Pharisees believed on him? But this people, who knoweth not the law, are cursed." They then proceed to lay plans to condemn and execute Jesus immediately, fearful that if he is left free any longer he will gain all the people. They decide that their only hope is to speedily silence him. But Nicodemus, one of the Pharisees, and he who had come to Jesus in the night and had been taught of him concerning the new birth, speaks out boldly:— "Doth our law judge any man before it hear him, and know what he doeth?" For a moment silence falls on the assembly. Nicodemus was a rich and influential man, learned in the law, and holding a high position among the rulers. What he said was true, and came home to the Pharisees with startling emphasis; they could not condemn a man unheard. But this was not the only reason that the haughty rulers remained confounded, gazing at him who had so boldly spoken in favor of justice. They were startled and chagrined that one of their own number had been so impressed by the power of Jesus as to openly defend him in the council. When they recovered from their astonishment, they addressed him with cutting sarcasm:— "Art thou also of Galilee? Search and look; for out of Galilee ariseth no prophet." But they were nevertheless unable to carry their purpose, and condemn Jesus without a hearing. They were defeated and crest-fallen for the time, and "every man went unto his own house."—Mrs. E. G. White, in "Great Controversy." Switzerland.
By D. T. Bourdeau
I CLOSED up my present effort in Lausanne, Switzerland, May 3, having spoken nearly fifty times. The previous Sabbath and Sunday were precious days to us, Brother and Sister White being with us. Sabbath, at the close of a discourse by Sister E. G. White, translated simultaneously into German and French, by Elder Conradi and the writer, fifteen new converts took part in a social meeting. Up to that time twenty persons had decided to obey the truth. Yesterday Brother Conradi informed me that thirty persons are obeying. This has been a most precious season to us. I am now searching public libraries for facts on baptism and on other subjects, for future use. Christ the End of the Law.
(Lesson 9.—Sabbath, June 19.) 1. What does Paul say that Christ is to every one that believeth?
“For Christ is the end of the law for righteousness to every one that believeth.” Rom. 10:4. 2. Does this mean that Christ came to abolish the law?
“Think not that I am come to destroy the law, or the prophets; I am not come to destroy, but to fulfill.” Matt. 5:17. “The Lord is well pleased for his righteousness' sake; he will magnify the law, and make it honorable.” Isa. 42:21. 3. In what sense besides “termination” is the word “end” frequently used? Design, object, or purpose. See Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, definition 4. 4. Quote a text from the Bible where it evidently has this meaning.
“Behold, we count them happy which endure. Ye have heard of the patience of Job, and have seen the end of the Lord; that the Lord is very pitiful, and of tender mercy.” James 5:11; or any of the following: Rom. 14:9; John 18:37; Amos 5:18; Luke 18:1; Heb. 13:7; 1 Peter 1:9. 5. What does Paul elsewhere say is the end of the law?
“Now the end of the commandment is charity out of a pure heart, and of a good conscience, and of faith unfeigned.” 1 Tim. 1:5. 6. What is the meaning of “charity”? Love; see rendering of this text, also of 1 Cor. 13, in Revised Version. 7. And what is love?
“For this is the love of God, that we keep his commandments; and his commandments are not grievous.” 1 John 5:3. “Love worketh no ill to his neighbor; therefore love is the fulfilling of the law.” Rom. 13:10. 8. Then to what is Paul's statement in 1 Tim. 1:5 equivalent? Now the design of the commandment (or law) is that it should be kept. 9. If a man kept the law how would he stand before God?
“For not the hearers of the law are just before God, but the doers of the law shall be justified.” Rom. 2:13. 10. Then what may be said to be the end or design of the law? To justify men before God. This may truly be said to be its object, for it will justify only the obedient, and it is the design that the law should be obeyed. 11. What would be necessary in order that a man could be called a “doer of the law”? It would be necessary that he should have kept the law in every particular during every moment of his life. 12. Has anybody ever kept the law thus perfectly?
“As it is written, There is none righteous, no, not one; there is none that understandeth, there is none that seeketh after God. They are all gone out of the way, they are together become unprofitable; there is none that doeth good, no, not one.” Rom. 3:10-12. 13. Then must not the law fail of its object in securing the justification of men?
“Therefore by the deeds of the law there shall no flesh be justified in his sight; for by the law is the knowledge of sin.” Rom. 3:20. 14. How, then, is it possible for a man to secure justification?
“Being justified freely by his grace through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus; whom God hath set forth to be a propitiation through faith in his blood, to declare his righteousness for the remission of sins that are past, through the forbearance of God.” Rom. 3:24, 25. 15. Then in what sense may Christ be called the end of the law? He secures the justification of men, a thing which the law can no longer do. 16. What have we learned was a primary design of the law? See answer to question 8. 17. Is it possible for any man to meet this requirement?
“For the flesh lusteth against the Spirit, and the Spirit against the flesh; and these are contrary the one to the other; so that ye cannot do the things that ye would.” Gal. 5:17. 18. How is it possible for any one to do what is required?
“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 15:5. 19. For what express purpose did Christ suffer for man?
“For what the law could not do, in that it was weak through the flesh, God sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh, and for sin, condemned sin in the flesh; that the righteousness of the law might be fulfilled in us, who walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit.” Rom. 8:3, 4. 20. Then how again is Christ the end of the law? He enables those who are “in him” to keep the law, thus fulfilling its design. The stimulating power and comfort of sympathy none can express save he who has realized it. It has a power like the magnet, unseen, but potent, which draws to itself the wandering, scattered particles that exist around it.—Sel. THERE is one thing almost as strong as truth itself, and that is persecuted error. “Come, Amy, it’s seven o’clock; get up.” It was a winter morning, and Mrs. Strong was calling her little daughter. Amy awoke at the sound of her mother’s voice, but she did not get up right away. She lay still, thinking how nice and warm it was in bed and how cold it must be out-of-doors. She knew by the grating of wheels over the frozen earth outside that it was a cold day, very cold. That reminded her of a poor woman whom she had seen knocking at the door of an opposite house the night before, and then she began to think how grand it would be to be grown up, and rich like their neighbor, Mrs. Jones, and to have poor people coming to her door all the while and asking for help, and never to send them away disappointed, because she would have enough money to give them all something. Then how grateful they would be, and how much they would love her, and how they would speak of her as the benevolent Mrs.—. She had not quite decided what her name should be, when her father came to the door. “Amy, are you ready for breakfast? Come down-stairs right away if you are.” There was a sudden end to the day-dream. Amy jumped up and dressed herself just as fast as she could. She was in such haste that she did not get her hair very smooth, and, sad to relate, she knelt down to say her prayers while she was buttoning her dress. Of course she could not think of what she was saying, and so she repeated, “Now I lay me down to sleep,” instead of, “Now I wake and see the light.” Then without any real thought of asking the Lord Jesus to be with her through the day, she hurried to the breakfast table. The rest of the family were through eating by that time, and Amy’s food being cold did not seem to be as good as usual. After her meal she had to help her mother with the housework, but I am afraid her part of it was not very well done, because she had to hurry so much in order to get ready for school. As she felt in her pockets for her mittens she found two pennies there that somebody had given her the day before. She glanced at the clock to see whether she would have time to stop at the candy store, and made up her mind to run the risk of doing so. She was leaving the shop with two sticks of peppermint carefully rolled up in a piece of brown paper, when she met a school-mate. This little girl, whose name was Katy Brown, was the daughter of a very poor woman. She was shabbily dressed. Indeed, her clothing was not thick enough to keep her warm, and her face was so drawn and pinched that it looked as though it ought to belong to an old woman rather than to a little girl. “Won’t you give me some candy, Amy? I haven’t had any in ever so long.” “Then ask your mother to give you money and let you buy some; I want mine myself.” Could that have been Amy Strong who answered so unkindly and selfishly? Was it the Amy Strong who had been thinking that morning how nice it would be to help everybody? Was it the Amy who had promised her mother at the beginning of the year that she would try to grow more like Jesus every day? When the two children reached the school the teacher was calling the roll. Amy was just in time to say “late,” and to have a long black mark put opposite her name. That worried her so that she could not think about her geography lesson when she tried to study it; and then in the class, when she was asked, “What is the capital of Maine?” she said, “Androscoggin.”333 This was so funny that all the girls laughed—all but Amy herself, who was so angry that she almost cried. It was just as bad all through the session. Amy made one mistake after another, and at last the teacher told her that she must stay after school to study. How long that hour was! the hour in which she was “kept in.” It seemed as though it would never be over. But it was at last, and then Amy rushed home to her mother to be comforted. “Oh, mamma, isn’t it dreadful? Everything has gone criss-cross all day, and I didn’t mean to be naughty at all!” The tears came then thick and fast. When the shower was over, Mrs. Strong coaxed Amy to tell her the whole story of the day’s misdoings. “I think,” she said kindly, “that my little girl made two mistakes before breakfast. The first was in not minding her mamma at once, and the second was in not asking the Lord Jesus to be with her through the day. Let me teach you a verse that Christ taught his disciples. It is this: ‘Without me ye can do nothing.’” Without his blessing neither children nor grown people can hope to have either pleasant or useful days.—Christian Intelligencer. “WHAT time are we going away this summer, John?” asked Mrs. Brace of her husband. “Why, Laura, I was wondering if we could not draw in a little on our summer doings this season. Times are very hard, and—” “Do you mean to say that we are not to go to the sea-shore, or to the mountains?” she asked in some surprise. “Why, I thought perhaps we would manage the matter more cheaply somehow. But if you really think it must be done, of course it must.” “I don’t know how it would do to keep the children in town.” “If you think they need it, all right, my dear. I think you need a change more than they do, to shake off your cares.” He spoke affectionately, and she kissed him and considered it sealed, as he added:— “I shall have to take you and the children and leave you where you decide to go, and then go for you. I must stay by the business; so I’ll sleep in the house while you are gone, and take my meals down town.” Mrs. Brace had been brought up with the idea that husbands were to be teased and coaxed a little on points of expenditure. To do her justice, she was quite willing to do her part in economizing when she thought it necessary, but had become so accustomed to the idea of business men earning in offices and warehouses the money to be spent for home and its luxuries, that she lived along with little thought as to whether the burden of life was equally divided between man and wife. John wished her good-by as he left for the day’s business, and soon afterwards the morning mail brought her a letter from a favorite cousin which read thus:— DEAR LAURA: We are going to the Thousand Isles this year, and want you to join us there. We want to make a good, long summer of it, so couldn’t you be ready by June 15. Wish you would let me know, if possible, by return mail, for Henry will wait until we hear from you, when he will write and engage accommodations for all of us. And say what amount of room you will need.
Lovingly yours, KATE. The proposal was a very pleasant one. “I believe,” she said to herself, “as Kate is in a hurry, I’ll take a run down and talk to John about it, after I have finished my shopping this morning. It will make a longer absence this summer than we expected, but he will agree to it if I ask him, and then I can let Kate know by the afternoon mail.” Two hours later Mrs. Brace was making her way further down town than she had ever been before. A street-car carried her through unknown distances of tall, solid, unattractive looking buildings, very different from those on the avenues and thoroughfares which made up “the city” to her. She was set down in a bewildering confusion of drays and express wagons, contriving after some inquiry to find that one of the dingy buildings was the mill which ground out her share of the good things of life. Little of luxury found its home here. Sunshine could not make its way between the high walls, and at some desks gas was burning near noon of this bright day. And there were unwholesome smells which Mrs. Brace did not like. It was a busy place, much loading and unloading, and running to and fro, and referring to managers and clerks. Mrs. Brace at length caught sight of her husband. So many seemed to be claiming his attention that she sat down on a box and waited. Glancing at his face she was struck with an expression unlike any she had ever seen upon it at home. The look of keen, nervous attention to what was going on seemed to bring out a sharpness of feature which was new to her, although it had occurred to her once or twice lately that John was looking rather thinner than usual. But it had quickly passed from her mind and she now gazed uneasily as it became more and more impressed upon her that he really was changed. A slight lull in the demands upon him brought upon his face in place of the air of alertness, a languid, careworn look which smote her heart. He leaned his head upon his hand and then started as she gently laid her hand on his shoulder. “You here, Laura? Is anything wrong?” “No, I—was down town and took it into my head to make you a visit.” He was gratified at seeing her, and led her about the warehouse, explaining things pertaining to the business. “Come with me, and spend the rest of the day at home, John,” she urged, when taking leave of him. “Couldn’t do it, dear. Business is pressing.” In her tasteful home with its light cares, regarded so tenderly by John, she had never taken a thought of what his burdens and his surroundings might be. Now she had seen the business place and his business face. “I have been selfish and heartless,” she said to herself. “How could I ever endure it to spend my days in such a place? And to think how quietly I agreed with poor John, that he could stay at work all summer, while the rest of us went away for our health—which simply means for a good time. Not one of us needs to go half so much as he does.” Arriving at home, she wrote to Cousin Kate her regrets that she could not join her party. “I have been thinking, John,” she said to him the same evening, “that wherever we go this summer you must go too.” “I can’t get away, Laura. It will require the most careful watching to pull through these times.” “Then we’ll all stay. Look at us; we’re all well. The children are as plump and rosy as cherubs. We have more yard room than many others have, and we’ll give them some cheap little runs into the country and days in the parks, as the hot weather comes on.” “You don’t mean to stay at home all summer, Laura?” “Well, when it gets late in the season we might spend a week or two up at Uncle John’s farm, if you will go too. It would make the summer expenses very light. Will it be much of a help to you?” “Help? Why, Laura, it will be half the burden off.” “Oh, John,” she said, with her arm about him, “that’s just the proportion of it that I want to bear.”—Sidney Dayre, in Congregationalist. The Home Circle.
By Margaret Sangster
The day had been long and gloomy,
Weary with mist and rain,
A day for the heart to brood on
Sorrow and loss and pain;
But there came with the light of evening
A wind that swept away
All the shadow of darkness
Out of the winter day. Is thy life, O pilgrim, weary,
Veiled from the cheering light?
Perhaps for thee is the promise
Of joy with the waning light.
Fairer than noonday splendor,
Richer than beams of stars,
The lustrous glory of sunset
May burn through the golden bars.
—Margaret Sangster. Good Inclinations and Good Actions
God never accepts a good inclination instead of a good action, where that action may be done. Character Revealed by What We Laugh At
MEN show their character in nothing more clearly than by what they think is laughable. CIGARETTES are largely used by boys; but cigarette smokers, both young and old, usually regard with skepticism the statements made by physicians concerning the evil consequences of the habit. The smokers say that their cigarettes are made of the "purest Virginia;" but if they want to know what this "purest Virginia" is, they should read what a large manufacturer of tobacco recently said to a New York reporter. "The quantity of drugs used in cigarettes is appalling," he declared, "and the commonest of these is valerian and tincture of opium. An experienced tobacconist can detect the presence of valerian by the smell. The drug imparts a sweet, soothing effect, that in a little time obtains a fascinating control over the smoker. The more cigarettes he smokes, the more he desires to smoke, just as is the case with one who uses opium. The desire grows into a passion. The smoker becomes a slave to the enervating habit. "By the use of drugs it is possible to make a very inferior quality of tobacco pleasant. Cigarettes are put on the market at such a price that the poorest can easily procure them, and boys go in swarms for them." "What is this Havana flavoring that is so much used?" "It is made from the tonca bean, which contains a drug called melolotis, a deadly poison, seven grains being sufficient to kill a dog. It has become quite an article of commerce, and is extensively used in the manufacture of cigarettes." "Does the paper wrapper of a cigarette add a great deal to its injuriousness?" "Certainly. There are three sorts of paper in common use, made respectively from cotton, from linen rags, and from rice straw. Cotton paper is made chiefly in Trieste, Austria, and the linen and rice paper in Paris. "The first, manufactured from the filthy scrapings of rag pickers, is bought in large quantities by the manufacturers, who turn it into a pulp, and subject it to a bleaching process to make it presentable. "The lime and other substances used in bleaching have a very harmful effect upon the membrane of the throat and nose. "Cotton paper is so cheap that a thousand cigarettes can be wrapped at a cost of only two cents. Rice paper is rather expensive. Tobacconized paper is also manufactured. "It is common paper saturated with tobacco in such a way as to imitate the veins of the tobacco leaf very nearly. It is used in making all tobacco cigarettes. Arsenical preparations are also used in bleaching cigarette papers, and oil of creosote is produced naturally as a consequence of combustion. The latter is very injurious to the throat and lungs, and is said to accelerate the development of consumption in any one predisposed to the disease."—Youth's Companion. GREAT numbers of cameos are made in Italy, but the finest come from Paris. The quartz blocks from which the cameos are cut are imported into this country in shapes ready for cutting. The kinds of quartz most commonly used are onyx, sardonyx, chalcedony, jasper, turquois; certain species of shells are also used. They can be cut on any stone or jewel except a diamond. A cameo differs from an intaglio in that it is executed in relief, while the latter is a sunk engraving. Cameos are best cut in minerals which present various bands of two or more distinct colors. The raised engraving is generally of one color, while the background is of a strongly contrasted color. The former is generally white and the latter dark. The cutter draws with a lead pencil on the white surface of the block the design which he intends to produce in cameo. He then follows the outlines with a diamond and cuts away the white parts outside. If the stone is small, he cements it on the end of a stick; if large, he holds it in his hand, and proceeds to work upon it with fine drills. He sits at a table like a sewing machine table and by a treadle works a small lathe situated at his right. At his left is a frame filled with drills made of steel wire and of all varieties of shapes. The ends of the drills are covered with diamond dust ground in olive oil. The dust is obtained by crushing uncut diamonds by blows of a hammer in a small steel mortar. The cutter has placed before him a picture or a model of the subject to be made. Everything then depends upon the correctness of his eye and his artistic instincts. The work is inexpressibly slow, but when completed it is marvelously perfect. Although very small, the figures delineated are as complete in every detail as though they were ten feet high. A skilled workman will often make an elegant cutting or even a portrait without any model whatever. This making of cameo portraits is one of the most steady sources of revenue in the business. They are made of various sizes, and the likeness is very striking. The price varies from $50 to $300 each. The average time of cutting is about 120 hours.—New York Mail and Express. “Be cheerful; do not brood over fond hopes unrealized until a chain, link by link, is fastened on each thought and wound around the heart. Nature intended you to be the fountain spring and cheerfulness of social life, and not the traveling monument of despair and melancholy.” Health and Temperance.
By C. L. Hill
“JAMES DUNTON, arrested for drunkenness and disorderly conduct. Fined five dollars. In default of payment, sent to jail for thirty days.” This item in the morning paper met my eye, and I read it again, for the name seemed familiar. Could it be possible that this was my old school-mate? And my mind turned back to the time when James stood among the brightest of his class. True, he was a little wild, and soon after leaving school he commenced drinking, and would occasionally become intoxicated. Then he joined a temperance organization, and seemed so deeply in earnest that I had really thought him safe from all further temptation. Such was the condition of things when I moved to a distant city in the far West. I had been absent for ten years, and was now on a visit to the old home. I had heard nothing of James Dunton during my absence, and supposed him still working in the temperance ranks. Could it be possible that this was the same man? On inquiry, I found it to be true. James Dunton had become a victim of intemperance, after abstaining for three years. He had not simply gone back to his old way, but had fallen far lower, until the chances of his ever reforming seemed almost hopeless. I called on him, and learned the story of his fall:— “I had tasted no kind of liquor for more than three years, and had conquered the old habit so far that it had little or no temptation for me. One evening I attended a party celebrating the birthday of a lady friend. Wine and other liquors were used quite freely. I had twice refused to drink, when the hostess approached and offered me a glass of wine. I begged her to excuse me from accepting it, but she answered somewhat petulantly:— “I should think you might drink once with me in honor of this occasion.” “As I said something about the principle involved, and the possibility of a single glass leading to further indulgence, she retorted rather sneeringly:— “Oh! I beg your pardon. I had supposed that Mr. Dunton was man enough to drink a harmless glass of wine without fear of becoming a drunkard.” “This stab at my pride, in the presence of others who had no scruples about taking an occasional glass, had its effect, and with some light remark in reference to the excuse I had been making, I took the wine and quickly drank it. This led to another, and then another, for I wished to show the lady that I had sufficient manhood to drink several glasses of wine if I chose. The result was, I was carried home beastly drunk. After that night all the old cravings came back tenfold. I tried to fight against it, but it seemed of no use. My courage all forsook me, and I became reckless. In my false attempt to sustain my manhood I had lost all. I feel now that my fate is fixed and there is no help for it. The sooner the end comes the better for all concerned.” I tried to encourage him to hope for better things, but he would not listen. As I went away I thought of the wonderful influence of woman, and how sad that it should ever be put to such bad use—that it should be used to lead men downward, when it might do so much toward lifting them up. The loss of manhood through life, and of soul through eternity, are the weighty matters to be trifled away.—C. L. Hill. Intoxicating Drink and Crime
I AM within the truth when I state that in four cases out of five, when an offense has been committed, intoxicating drink has been one of the causes. —Late Inspector of English Prisons. Some of the Causes of Dandruff.
By Dr. Hanaford
PROMINENT among the "causes" are gross food, particularly the flesh of swine, with the lard, personal uncleanliness, more especially relating to the care of the head, sudden changes in the temperature, too much brain labor, greasing or oiling the hair, too much head clothing, keeping the head too warm, without sufficient ventilation, often attended by scalp diseases, irritation or inflammatory tendencies. This dandruff is easily "removed"—as it is albuminous, dissolved by alkalies—by washing the scalp in saleratus water, by which it is speedily dissolved. It is not necessary to have it very strong, a teaspoonful to a half-pint of water.—Dr. Hanaford, in Western Plowman. Acts are threads, but oft repeated they become habits, which are ropes and chains.