THE temperance question in Australia is agitated more or less in each of the colonies. New South Wales and Victoria take the lead. There are the Sons of Temperance, and a society called the Rechabites. The Rechabites are teetotalers, and use no tobacco in any form. They are very earnest in their work and are respected by all classes.
A few days since, on the cars, we listened to an interesting conversation on this question. A man over sixty years of age, who evidently had his regular bitters, entered the compartment. Opposite him sat a younger man of about forty. They were soon engaged in conversation on the temperance question. The old gentleman was advised to sign the pledge. He objected, on the ground that liquor did not hurt him. He said he paid his bills and did unto others as he would that others should do unto him, therefore it was nobody's business.
"But," said No. 2, "it is somebody's business. Have you a family?" The old gentleman replied that he had. Said No. 2, "Look at me. I have never been able to do a hard day's work in my life. I have consulted the most eminent physicians. Invariably they tell me I must stop drinking, but when I inform them that I am a teetotaler, they at once tell me that I have inherited every symptom of a drunkard, and my children inherit the same from me. My father lived to be over sixty years old, and said that spirits never hurt him, but he died suddenly. The doctor said it was heart disease. Now, sir, don't you tell me that you are not injuring any one by drinking. I am ruined for life, and so are my children, and I know the second commandment is true, that the iniquity of the fathers is visited upon the children at least two generations." "Well," said the old man, "I can't get along without it." No. 2 replied, "Then you have lost your manhood, and ought to be ashamed of yourself, and the sooner you sign the pledge and become a man, the better." He urged him to attend the temperance meeting that night, but the old gentleman truthfully said that his clothing was not in a condition for him to attend. "Well," said No. 2, "come sign the pledge and attend the meeting, and I will buy you a new suit of clothes; for the Bible says that no drunkard shall enter the kingdom of God."
But the old gentleman soberly replied, "I say my prayers every night." No. 2 responded, "You can't pray enough to enter the kingdom, breaking God's commandments. No drunkard shall enter the kingdom of God, and prayers will never take you there unless you refrain from the intoxicating cup." This is but a sample of what can be heard in public places.
Last evening, June 16, some of our party attended an enthusiastic temperance meeting. About six hundred people were present. They appeared to be Rechabites. Speeches were made by different persons. They stated that a bill was soon to be introduced into parliament to remedy the evil of intemperance and to secure a better observance of Sunday. Thus we find that the same spirit that connects the terrible evil of intemperance with the enforcement of Sunday observance or of legalizing that child of papacy, which is so strong in America, also exists in Australia. There is a world-wide move to enforce Sunday observance by legal authority, and to give it moral power they connect it with one of the worst evils which exists.
We are stopping at the "Victoria Coffee House," and among the rules that are posted in each room, one is, "No intoxicating liquors are allowed on the company's premises." All rooms are let with this understanding.
S. N. H.
California T. and M. Society.
By Anna L. Ingels
REPORT FOR QUARTER ENDING JUNE 30, 1885.
Districts
No. of Members
Reports Returned
Members Added
Members Dismissed
Missionary Visits
Letters Written
Signs taken in clubs
Review
Signs
Good Health
Instructor
Other Periodicals
No. 1
293
127
1
1
1473
536
447
1
14
2
...
1
No. 2
97
59
...
...
54
214
104
1
...
...
2
...
No. 3
195
83
2
5
97
356
509
1
44
...
...
10
No. 4
118
21
5
2
683
214
260
5
14
20
2
1
No. 5
112
36
1
...
15
152
211
1
...
2
...
...
No. 6
73
14
2
4
3
86
140
2
...
...
...
...
No. 7
47
27
4
1
112
109
112
...
28
...
...
...
C. M.
...
6
...
...
2994
...
555
2
16
...
...
...
Total
935
353
14
9
5431
1667
2398
11
117
24
4
12
Districts
Pages tracts and Pamphlets
Periodicals
Donation Membership and
Sales
Periodicals and Signs
Total
No. 1
69623
5316
$103 65
$22 85
$57 55
$184 05
No. 2
29454
1822
6 75
31 50
68 65
106 90
No. 3
119020
18774
6 20
7 25
150 32
163 77
No. 4
33840
2281
11 35
7 20
142 25
160 70
No. 5
20544
1690
11 70
5 60
24 70
42 00
No. 6
6748
823
2 16
9 90
49 35
61 41
No. 7
6275
1555
80 85
13 01
79 10
181 96
C. M.
224128
9753
315 75
80 30
...
396 15
Total
508632
42014
$547 41
$177 61
$571 92
$1296 94
*City Missions.
This report is considerably less than that of the previous quarter in almost every respect, but is an increase over that of December 31. The report of March 31 was unusually large, there being almost forty per cent. more letters written and pages and periodicals distributed than has been reported before at any one quarter. The decrease this quarter is quite marked in certain districts. The Healdsburg society, of Dist. No. 1, is composed largely of students. These have nearly all dispersed for the College vacation, and their Signs' club of 400 copies has been reduced to 150 copies during this time. In other districts several of those who last quarter devoted the greater part of their time to the missionary work, are now engaged in preaching the truth. When we take these things into consideration, together with the fact that this is the busiest season of the year, we are not so much surprised at the apparent falling off in the work.
Of the 935 members in this State only about forty per cent. are represented in this report, which does not, therefore, show the full amount of work done. Unless each feels a responsibility in the matter, the reports as they appear from quarter to quarter, representing as they do such a small part of the membership, will not only fail to accomplish their design in showing the prosperity of the work in this State, but will tend to discouragement.
Let us not only report what we do, but let us redouble our diligence, resolving that each successive quarter shall witness the advancement of the missionary cause in this State. And let us remember that each has a part to do in this work, and that upon the faithful ones only shall the Master of the vineyard pronounce the "Well done." ANNA L. INGELS, Sec.
The Rise of the Huguenots.
By Eugene Lawrence
In the dawn of the disastrous reign of Francis I., the Huguenots first appear. They were the direct offspring of the Bible. As the sacred volume, multiplied by the printing-presses of Germany, first made its way into France, it was received as a new revelation. Before Luther had published his theses it is said that there were Protestants at Paris, and wherever the Bible came it was certain to found a church. But it was chiefly among the men of labor and of thought that its teachings were ever welcome.
Labor, flying from the decaying cities of Italy and the disturbed dominions of Charles V., had found a new home in many of the towns of France; accomplished workmen in silk and linen, iron or clay, had stimulated the prosperity of Lyons and Tours, Saintes and Meaux; painters, sculptors, architects, and poets had sprung up amidst the barbarism of chivalry. Paris was as renowned for its painters as for its goldsmiths; and the College of France spread liberal learning among the ambitious students of the day. To the cultivated artisan and the classical scholar the gross corruptions of the church, and the open vices of monks and priests, were singularly odious; for the one had learned the charm of virtue by practicing a regular life, the other by a study of Socrates and Cicero.
When, therefore, the Bible, in its modern translation, was laid before the people, a wonderful religious revolution swept over France. Nearly the whole working-class became Protestant. The great manufacturing towns were converted at once from Romanism to the faith of St. Paul. Almost every eminent artisan or inventor was a Huguenot. Stephen, the famous printer; Palissy, the chief of potters; the first French sculptor, Goujon; the great surgeon, Paré, and a throng of their renowned companions, shrunk from the mass as idolatrous, and lived by the precepts of the Bible. The professors of the College of France and the ablest of living scholars adopted the principles of reform. The impulse spread to nobles and princes. The house of Bourbon and of Navarre were nearly all Huguenots. Marguerite, the sister of Francis, became the chief support of the reformers, and the king himself seemed for a moment touched and softened by the sacred language of inspiration.
The Bible ruled over the rejoicing French. Of the wonderful power of this wide reform it is impossible to speak without enthusiasm. Swiftly there spread over the manufacturing towns of France a reign of saintly purity. Men once more shrunk from vice and clung to virtue. The gross habits of the middle ages were thrown aside; the taverns and theaters were deserted, the morris-dancers and jongleurs no longer amused; the rude dissipation of the peasantry, the licentious fêtes of priests and nobles, awakened only disgust; but in every village prayer-meetings were held, and the Bible was studied by throngs of eager students, who, for the first time, were now enabled to listen to the voice of inspiration.
The Reformation began, it is said, at Meaux, a small manufacturing town on the borders of Flanders, which had learned from its Flemish neighbor industry and independence. Its people had been coarse and rude, its priests vicious, indolent, and dull, and the little town had found its chief recreation in drunkenness and barbarous license. Its inhabitants were wool-carders, fullers, cloth-makers, and mechanics, living by the product of their daily labor, and grasping eagerly at every uncultivated pleasure. Jacques Lefèvre, the translator of the Bible into French, a man of nearly seventy, and the young and brilliant Farel, his faithful associate, preached to the working-men of Meaux and distributed among them copies of the gospels. At once the mass was deserted, the priest condemned, and eager throngs listened to the daring missionaries who ventured to unfold the long-forgotten truth.
A swift and graceful transformation passed over the busy town. No profane word was any longer uttered, no ribaldry nor coarse jests were heard. Drunkenness and disorder disappeared; vice hid in the monastery or the cloister. In every factory the gospels were read as a message from above, and the voice of prayer and thanksgiving mingled with the clamor of the shuttle and the clash of the anvil. The rude and boisterous artisans were converted into refined and gentle believers, ever seeking for the pure and the true; and the sudden impulse toward a higher life awakened at Meaux by the teachings of Farel and Lefèvre stirred, like an electric shock, every portion of diseased and decaying France. A moment of regeneration seemed near, a season of wonderful advance.
At a later period, Palissy, the potter, has left a pleasing account of a similar transformation. In the busy town of Saintes, where he was pursuing with incredible toil and self-denial one of the chief secrets of his art, Palissy became the founder of a church. Too poor to purchase a copy of the Bible, he learned its contents by heart, and every Sunday morning exhorted or instructed nine or ten of his fellow-townsmen who assembled in secret to hear the word of God. The little congregation soon grew in numbers. For some time they met at midnight, and hid from persecution.
At length the purity of their lives and the earnestness of their faith won the respect of the people of Saintes; a pastor was procured; the people crowded to the Protestant assembly; a revival spread over the town, and a sudden reform in morals made Saintes a haven of rest and peace. Coarse plays and dances, extravagance in dress and license in living, scandal, quarrels, and lawsuits, says Palissy, had almost wholly passed away. Instead of profane language and idle jesting were heard only psalms, prayers, and spiritual songs. The religion ruled over the happy town, and even the priests and monks, stirred by the general impulse, began to pray and preach with honest fervor, and to emulate the purity of the zealous reformers.
A gentle harmony prevailed between the rival churches; for the moment the evil passions of men were charmed into repose. Then, adds Palissy, might be seen, on Sundays, bands of work-people walking cheerfully in the meadows, groves, and fields, singing spiritual songs together, or reading to one another from the sacred volumes; young girls and maidens chanting hymns beneath the pleasant shade; boys, with their teachers, full of a steadfast purpose to live a noble life. The very countenances of the people, he asserts, were changed; the coarse lines of sensuality had been swept away, and from every face shone only benevolence and truth.
The picture of the reformed village, drawn by the honest pen of the gentle artisan, reads like an idyllic dream amidst the dreadful story of the reign of the chivalric Francis. It seems scarcely more probable than Livy's narrative of the Golden Age of Numa, or Homer's legend of the gentle Phæacians. Yet it was no doubt true. In many towns and cities of martial France similar scenes were witnessed. More than two thousand churches sprung up in the apparently ungenial soil.
The early Huguenots were noted for their austere virtues, their truthfulness, and their love of peace. They lived together, a happy brotherhood, joined in a common faith, a similar purity of life. Men trusted the word of a Huguenot when the oath of the Catholic noble awakened only distrust. They brought honesty into commerce, and the domestic virtues into every home. They softened their enemies by a tolerant patience; they strove to convert rather than to destroy; their brilliant leaders, adorned by rare talents and eminent virtues, attracted the admiration of the age; and it seemed possible that the tide of reform might sweep unchecked over France, subdue by its gentleness the hostility of the Gallican church, and restrain, with a mighty force, the barbarous instincts of the feudal princes and the impulsive king.
Religion in All of Life
MANY persons have very erroneous ideas about religion. They do not seem to understand its true nature, or comprehend its constant claims. Hence their Christian life is very inconsistent and defective. "A man who is not religious everywhere," says the Cumberland Presbyterian, "is not religious anywhere, and he who is not a Christian in everything is not a Christian in anything. Shouting and praying at a camp-meeting, and cheating and defaulting in business, are altogether too common in the church. Men cannot be zealous in religion and dishonest in business. Religion is not a candle, to be lighted and blown out at pleasure. It is not a garment, to be put on and off to suit the company we are in. It is not a flaming torch on the Sabbath and a dark lantern during the week. It is a shining lamp that giveth light to all that are in a dark place."
The Old, Old Story.
COUNTRY people are always in search of bargains. Auction sales in the cities attract a good many farmers, who come with their wives to look after bargains in furniture and horses. They look over the list of auctions and find that a gentleman who is about to go to Europe offers his splendid furniture and carpets for sale. Here is a chance for bargains. The farmer's wife takes her husband and his pocket-book, and goes to see the handsome furniture sacrificed. Every bid she makes is raised by a stout man with a red bottle nose, handsomely colored and knobbed all over by rum. The lady wonders why this man wants everything she wants, and sets her mind on beating him every time—"the nasty, red-nosed thing." She gets mad; "her dander's up," so to speak, and she gets all she wanted, and a great deal more, in spite of the remonstrances of her scared husband. "Well," she says, "Mrs. Jones will open her eyes now when she sees the blue satin parlor set, and the best bedroom set, and the gorgeous carpets."
The good woman finds to her sorrow that the goods never were owned by any gentleman gone to Europe, but are trashy rubbish, stuck together with glue; the blue satin is cotton and fades all out, and the carpets are mere "skins." It is all bogus. This trick is played every day, and the red-nosed man is a fraud who never buys anything, but makes his living by "raising bids," day after day. Avoid all auction rooms, and horses which are "the property of a widow whose husband, recently deceased, was in a trucking trade." The ungrateful city is what the old Roman poet called it, and what was true two thousand years ago is true now, because human nature is always the same. And this is precisely why history repeats itself in small things as well as great. If a farmer or country dweller goes to a city in search of bargains, let him or his wife always go to a reputable store, and never, never, NEVER trust a stranger, or he will be sure to find out how ungrateful the city is to the men who feed it and supply it with business.—American Agriculturist for June.
Let Us Play.
By Mrs. N. K. Bradford
If it should seem paradoxical to say that play is work, let us watch for an hour one of our children play “keep house,” or build a fort, or do any of the hundred things that the average boy and girl find to do during a day. Notice the constant attention given to the business on hand. See the busy little housewife discipline her inanimate family, and mark the fact that she is more fond of doing than of giving orders, no matter what her station in life may be. How often, as you fold the dear child in your arms at close of day and kiss down the drooping eyelids, you say, “She is so tired of play.” “She has played so hard all day.”
But, dear mother, she has worked hard all day, therefore let us consider the matter of directing the children’s energies to a certain extent, and see if they will not be better and happier for it. I know that many a mother will say, “Oh, I haven’t time to play with my children. Only mothers who have plenty of money and plenty of servants can do that.”
Before arguing this point, allow me to give a bit of advice as regards toys. Do not buy many, nor cheap, perishable things, which are quickly disposed of, and create a demand for something new from day to day. For a little girl, buy household utensils and dolls, for the mother instinct must be satisfied. Give her a tiny broom and dust-pan, a flat-iron and table, a set of dishes, of course, as well as a miniature laundry set. There is scarcely an article in use in our well-furnished houses that is not made in miniature. Now, having purchased some of these things, for a Christmas or a birthday gift, would it really take much time to show just how to use them? Take ten minutes out of your day and teach her how to lay a real table; how to lay her little cloth straight, to set mamma’s place with the cups, saucers, etc., and papa’s with the meat dish before him. Give her some tiny napkins, of paper if need be, and show her where to put them, how to arrange the knives, forks, and dishes. Give her sometimes some “truly food,” and on another day show her how to use her little broom. Let her hunt for cobwebs (if you are very busy), telling her that those are to be taken down first. Great will be her delight should the search be successful! Then show her how to take short, firm strokes with her broom, and, beginning in the corners, how to bring all the dirt she can gather in a nice heap at the door. Go on in this way, really teaching some new household art from day to day and you will be
surprised and delighted to see how deft the young housekeepers become. A child soon learns that his toys are only toys if he is not taught to make any use of them, hence he soon tires of them.
For your boy, if you live in the country, get, first of all, garden tools; a diminutive wheel-barrow or a cart, as soon as he is large enough to use them. So many of his best lessons may be taught from nature’s open book that no thoughtful father will neglect the teaching, or feel that he has “no time” to devote to it. For a boy shut up in the city, alas, there are fewer healthful resources, yet provide him with a box of tools and a place where he may use them, and give him an occasional order for a small box or shelf. Let him have a tiny grocery store, if you can afford it, and, after showing him how to print “No liquors” over the door, stock it for him with rice, sugar, coffee, beans, etc.; then teach him how to use the delicate scales, how to do up a parcel neatly, and when you are busy with your sewing, dear mother, if he asks you the old question, which every mother hears so often, “What shall I do now?” order something from the grocery, and, when it is deposited in your lap, tell the dear little grocer something of the beautiful lands where the spices grow. Don’t say to him, unless you must, “Oh, run away; mamma’s busy now.” You always will be busy, and so will he. Your child’s training is your most important business, and, unless you find him something to do, the individual of whom Watts sings in his “Divine and Moral” will surely do so.
By and by, when Kate and Susie wield the scepter over their own houses, how much better they will do it for remembering how mother taught them when they were little girls. And how often, as your boy’s skillful fingers construct some trifling convenience or adornment for his own home, will his mind revert to the time when he did such things for mother; and, remembering it, his heart will grow tender, and his manhood stronger and better. It will take time and patience, and it will often “make a litter” about the house, but, dear mothers and fathers—let us play!—Mrs. N. K. Bradford, in the Congregationalist.
The Home Circle.
AT EVENING.
Upon the hills the wind is sharp and cold,
The sweet young grasses wither on the wold,
And we, O Lord, have wandered from thy fold,
But evening brings us home.
Among the mists we stumbled, and the rocks,
Where the brown lichen whitens, and the fox
Watches the straggler from the scattered flocks;
But evening brings us home.
The sharp thorns prick us, and our tender feet
Are out and bleeding, and the lambs repeat
Their pitiful complaints—oh, rest is sweet,
When evening brings us home!
We have been wounded by the hunter's darts,
Our eyes are very heavy, and our hearts
Search for thy coming—when the light departs,
And evening brings us home.
The darkness gathers. Through the gloom no star
Rises to guide us. We have wandered far.
Without thy lamp we know not where we are.
At evening bring us home.
The clouds are 'round us, and the snow-drifts thicken.
O thou, dear Shepherd, leave us not to sicken
In the waste of night—our tardy footsteps quicken.
At evening bring us home.
—New York Tribune.
Was It Not Better So?
By Hannah Homebody
How is this for a case of domestic tyranny? A lady recently told me that one evening, shortly after her marriage, she was engaged with her fancy-work, and her husband was reading Shakespeare to her—subject to occasional interruptions, first from the servant girl, who asked to go out, then from a sudden recollection that the codfish for breakfast had not been put soaking, then from the necessity of winding a new skein of worsted—when her husband laid down his book and seriously addressed her in this wise: “My dear, I am going to make a rule, and I hope you will be good enough to take it kindly. I am going to decree that you shall do nothing whatever about the household or about anything else from six o’clock every evening till after breakfast the next day; I want you to give the evenings to me and to our mutual recreation. When I look up from my reading I want to see your face answering me, and not scowling over a dropped stitch. I hope you will never touch another piece of work after tea.”
“Not fancy-work?” gasped the young wife. “No, not fancy work. When I propose a little music, or a game of chess or backgammon, I don’t choose to wait till you have knit out a needle; and when I bring my friends in for an evening, I wish to see my wife free to talk with them, or ready for any recreation that may be proposed. The servants must come to you for their orders before six o’clock—they will soon learn to do so—and if you forget anything, you are not to order it in the evening; we will go without it. I am not going to have you thinking of these matters in the evening. Your mind is to be free for at least twelve hours of the twenty-four, and mine too.”
My friend told me she felt the regulation a very hard one, and, what was worse, she was inclined to question its wisdom. She had been brought up to believe that a woman’s hands should never be idle, however it might be with her brain and her tongue, and she remembered that the candle of Solomon’s virtuous woman went not out by night. But she knew her husband well enough to know that he would not make a rule unless he meant to have it kept, and, being a conscientious wife, she set about keeping this in letter and in spirit. There were times, she said, after the babies came, when it was absolutely necessary to do some work in the evenings, but at such times she always went to her husband, if he were at home, and asked his permission. It was granted, but always so reluctantly that she felt more unwilling than ever to disregard the edict, and now, after twenty years of married life, it is still in force.
How has it worked? Well—even the victim confesses that on the whole it has been a success. She has not so many crazy-quilts and afghans as some women, but she has some things worth having. She has hosts of friends, among them a number of young men who will stay away from the minstrels any time for an evening of music and games at her house; she has five sons and two daughters, who think that mamma is the best company in the world; she has a husband who is as proud of her as he was when she was a bride. And I declare, if you were to see this man at home some evening, laughing and talking with his wife and children, or reading to them, you would never suspect him of being a tyrant.—Hannah Homebody.
Advice to the Young about Tobacco.
By Talmage
BUT, my friends, what advice had we better give to our young people? I say, in the first place, let us advise them to abstain from this habit because all the medical fraternity of the United States and Great Britain pronounce it the cause of widespread and terrific unhealth. Dr. Agnew, Dr. Hamilton, Dr. Olcott, Dr. Barnes, Dr. Woodward, Dr. Rush, Dr. Hosack, Dr. Harvey, Dr. Mott—all the medical fraternity, allopathic, homeopathic, hydropathic, eclectic—denounce the habit, and warn the community against it. One distinguished physician says: "This habit is the cause of seventy different styles of disease. This habit is the cause of nearly all the cases of cancer of the mouth."
What is the testimony of the late Dr. John C. Warren, of Boston, than whom there is no higher authority? He says: "For more than thirty years, I have been in the habit of inquiring of patients who came to me with cancer of the tongue and lips whether they used tobacco, and, if so, whether they chewed or smoked; and if they have sometimes answered in the negative as to the first question, I can truly say that, to the best of my knowledge and belief, such cases are exceptions to the general rule. When, as is usually the case, one side of the tongue is affected with ulcerated cancer, it arises from the habitual retention of tobacco in contact with this part."
Their united testimony is that it depresses the vitals of the system, and brings on nervousness and dyspepsia, and takes off twenty-five per cent. of the physical vigor of the people of this country, and, damaging this generation, damages the next, the accumulated curse going on to capture other centuries. It injures the mind. Another eminent physician, for a long time superintendent of the insane asylum at Northampton, Mass., says: "Fully half of the patients who have come to our asylum for treatment are the victims of tobacco."
It is a sad thing, my brother, to damage the body; it is a worse thing to damage the mind; and any man of common sense knows that the nervous system immediately acts upon the brain. More than that; nearly all reformers will tell you that it tends to drunkenness. It creates unnatural thirst. There are those who use this narcotic who do not drink, but nearly all who drink use the narcotic; so that shows there is an immediate affinity between the two drugs. It was long ago demonstrated that a man cannot permanently reform from strong drink unless he gives up tobacco.
In nearly all the cases where men, having been reformed, have fallen back, it has been shown they have first touched tobacco and then surrendered to intoxicants. The broad avenue leading down to the drunkard's grave and the drunkard's hell is strewn thick with tobacco leaves. What did Benjamin Franklin say? "I never saw a well man in the exercise of common sense who would say that tobacco did him any good." What did Thomas Jefferson say when arguing against the culture of tobacco? He said: "It is a culture productive of infinite wretchedness." Horace Greeley said of it: "It is a profane stench." Daniel Webster said: "If those men must smoke, let them take the horse-shed."—Talmage.
"There Will Be Room in Heaven."
SHE was a little old woman, very plainly dressed in black bombazine that had seen much careful wear, and her bonnet was very old fashioned, and people stared at her tottering up the aisle of the grand church, evidently bent on securing one of the best seats; for a great man preached on that day, and the house was filled with splendidly dressed people who had heard of the fame of the preacher, his learning, his intellect and goodness, and they wondered at the presumption of the poor old woman. She must have been in her dotage, for she went into the pew of the richest member of the church, and took a seat. The three ladies who were seated there beckoned to the sexton, who bent over the intruder and whispered something; but she was hard of hearing, and smiled a little withered smile, as she said gently:—
"Oh, I'm quite comfortable—quite comfortable."
"But you are not wanted here," said the sexton pompously; "there is not room. Come with me, my good woman; I'll see that you have a seat."
"Not room," said the old woman, looking at her shrunken proportions, and then at the fine ladies. "Why, I'm not crowded a bit. I rode ten miles to hear the sermon, because —"
But here the sexton took her by the arm, and shook her roughly in a polite, under hand way, and then she took the hint. Her faded old eyes filled with tears, her chin quivered, but she arose meekly and left the pew. Turning quietly to the ladies, who were spreading their rich dresses over the space she left vacant, she said, gently:—
"I hope, my dears, there'll be room in Heaven for us all."
Then she followed the pompous sexton to the rear of the church, where, in the last pew, she was seated between a threadbare girl and a shabby old man.
"She must be crazy," said one of the ladies in the pew which she had at first occupied. "What can an ignorant old woman like her want to hear Dr.— preach for? She would not be able to understand a word he said."
"Those people are so persistent! The idea of her forcing herself into our pew! Isn't that voluntary lovely! There's Dr.— coming out of the vestry. Is he not grand?"
"Splendid! What a stately man! You know he promised to dine with us while he is here."
He is a commanding looking man, and as the organ voluntary stopped, and he looked over the great crowd of worshipers gathered in the vast church, he seemed to scan every face. His hand was on the Bible, when suddenly, leaning over the reading-desk, he beckoned to the sexton, who obsequiously mounted the steps to receive the mysterious message. And then the three ladies in the grand pew were electrified to see him take his way the whole length of the church to return with the old woman, whom he placed in the front pew of all, its other occupants making room for her. The great preacher looked at her with a smile of recognition; and then the services proceeded, and he preached a sermon that struck fire from every heart.
"Who was she?" asked the ladies who could not make room for her, as they passed the sexton at the door.
"The preacher's mother," answered that functionary in an injured tone.—Sel.
A Cow’s Repentance
The Chronicle (S. F.) of June 29, states that some cows, which were just back of the seawall, being set upon by dogs, became angry and one of them hooked a dog into a pool. The dog swam ashore, but being considerably shaken-up lay down upon the ground. The cow which did the hooking approached him and licked him for quite a time, as if to express her repentance for the deed.
Health and Temperance.
By Editor
A Good Stand.
THE late annual synod of the Reformed Presbyterian Church, in session at Morning Sun, Iowa, adopted the following, which we are pleased to note as a strike toward a much-needed reform:—
"There is a peculiar association between the evil of intemperance and the evils arising from the use of tobacco. Tobacco-users object to this classification, but they cannot deny the facts. Synod refers these subjects to the same committee because they are homogeneous. The recent legislation requiring scientific instruction on the dangerous effects of alcoholic stimulants requires the same as to narcotics.
"The States enacting prohibitory laws against liquor are following with restrictions on the sale of tobacco. These evils are kindred. There is a family resemblance that betrays their common parentage. They grow in the same soil and they bear similar fruits. The evils are the same in kind and differ less in degree than most persons suppose.
"The waste of money for tobacco is two-thirds as great as that for intoxicants. As it injures the body and deteriorates the mind and degrades the morals and wars against the soul, its influence is less manifest but just as certain. It is also a public offense. It exerts an evil influence in leading others to sin. It is an outrage on the rights of those who are compelled to wade through its filth, and to breathe its offensive and poisonous atmosphere. We adopt the following resolutions:—
"1. We express our strongest disapprobation and condemnation of the traffic, and indulgence in the use of tobacco, and warn our members against this blemish on Christian character.
"2. Synod reiterates all its former brotherly admonitions to ministers, elders, and deacons, and Sabbath-school teachers, that their continuance in this practice is inconsistent with their position as ensamples to the flock, and is most ensnaring to the youth of the church.
"3. Presbyteries are enjoined to carry out the law of synod, by not receiving or retaining under their care students that continue in this habit, refusing them licensure; and we will respect the request of those presbyteries that have asked that no tobacco-users be assigned to them, and they will be justified in refusing appointments to any such offenders, as may through oversight be allotted to them.
"We most earnestly and kindly warn our youth, precious sons of Zion, not to be misled by the evil practice of many professed Christians, who mourn their bondage. We remind them that if these fathers had been taught the evil of this practice as we have, they would not deliberately have chosen this course. The fact that professed Christians are addicted to the habit does not change its abominable and sinful character, nor will it in any way avert its consequences in your lives."
Fashionable Women.
By Presbyterian
FASHION kills more women than toil and sorrow. Obedience to fashion is a greater transgression of the laws of woman's nature, a greater injury to her physical and mental constitution, than the hardships of poverty and neglect. The slave woman at her task will live and grow old, and see two or three generations of her mistresses pass away. The washer-woman, with scarcely a ray of hope to cheer her in her toils, will live to see her fashionable sisters all extinct. The kitchen maid is hearty and strong, when her lady has to be nursed like a sick baby. It is a sad truth that fashion-pampered women are almost worthless for all good ends of life; they have but little force of character; they have still less power of moral will, and quite as little physical energy. They live for no great ends. They are dolls, formed in the hands of milliners and servants, to be fed to order. If they rear children, servants and nurses do all, save to conceive and give them birth. And when reared, what are they? What do they amount to, but weak scions of the old stock? Who ever heard of a fashionable woman's child exhibiting any virtue and power of mind for which it became eminent? Read the biographies of our great and good men and women. Not one of them had a fashionable mother.—Presbyterian.