I REJOICE in the revival of the old-time message which the REVIEW is now sounding forth. It is “meat in due season,” “the present truth,” which Peter says we are to be “established in.” 2 Peter 1:12.
Nearly twenty years ago I first heard the truth, and began to advocate it. Then it was like fire shut up in my bones; I could no more keep quiet about the Sabbath and the other truths of the message than I could refrain from telling the people about Jesus when he forgave my sins. There was some definiteness to the message. Its clear-cut points stood forth as beacon lights along a rocky shore to warn the mariner of coming danger. I remember of saying to one of my brethren when I first began teaching the message, “How much different it is preaching this truth than it was preaching First-day Adventism. I have something to tell the people.”
For years I taught the message, and it was fruitful in the salvation of many. Some of them are still alive to praise God for the third angel's message, and some have fallen asleep in Jesus, awaiting the last trump to sound when they will come forth clad with immortality. In those days the people knew what the third angel's message meant, and pointed it out to others. In like manner all understood the sanctuary question, the nature of man, the intermediate state, the punishment of the wicked, the mark of the beast, and the seal of God. A large share of our people were then taking the Bible Reading Gazette, and holding Bible studies with their neighbors. The tithing question and the spirit of prophecy were well understood, and a practical experience in the blessing of obedience was gained. No preacher would have thought of going out to preach the truth without teaching these doctrines as the leading part of his message. Then the reports from the different laborers which were printed in the REVIEW from week to week, all told of fruit gathered for the Master, and in many cases large churches were raised up.
In recent years there has come over the whole denomination a radical change, both in fruit bearing and in teaching. In my own experience I have realized a change, and have often felt much concerned about it. This, especially the lack of fruit bearing, has been a source of discouragement. Jesus made fruit bearing a test of discipleship, and a sure evidence of a call to the ministry. John 15:5-8. Many times I have resolved to return to the old landmarks, and make straight paths for my feet to walk in. But it is not easy, after one has been led away so slyly and so far, to get back. For several months past in almost every sermon I have directed the attention of my hearers to the near coming of Christ. But this is not sufficient; this could be preached in many of the churches without a dissenting voice. The people must be told what the Lord requires of them in order to be saved. The commandments of God and the patience and faith of the saints are the leading features of our message. Rev. 14:9-12.
The following quotation from the REVIEW of October 8, “Our forces have been much scattered, and our efforts have been to a large degree fruitless for years, because we have been persuaded to smother this message in gospel generalities,” seems to me a very fitting statement of our experience in the few past years, or at least it fits my case well. I have no doubt that God was in the teaching of “righteousness by faith.” He intended it and Christian Help work and the message, “Receive ye the Holy Ghost,” to be closely associated with the preaching and the practise of the Sabbath truth; but in most cases Satan perverted this plan by making these things the leading features, while leaving out the cardinal points of the message. The truths which God intended to be a help in swelling the message into a loud cry, being separated from the message, soon lost their power, and something new was sought. I would not for a moment want to drop any of the helps that God has given us to advance the message, but by all means let us drop the “gospel generalities.” What an amount of time, energy, and money have been spent in beating all around the message, and yet not hitting it. It occurs to me that the time has fully come to aim directly at the mark, and hit it. Paul's testimony to the Philippians expresses my determination. Chapter 3:13, 14.
Were it not for God's great mercies and wonderful promises, such as are recorded in Micah 7:18-20 and Jer. 3:13-15, there would be reason for discouragement, but with these promises complied with on our part, God will surely fulfil his part, and we may arise and shine as lights in the world. Isa. 60:1-5; Phil. 2:15. Therefore be strong and of good courage.
Where Are You?
By A. J. Osborne
A. J. OSBORNE
Christ said, “Ye are the light of the world.” “Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven.” “Ye are my witnesses.” “And I saw another angel fly in midst of heaven, having the everlasting gospel to preach unto them that dwell on the earth, and to every nation, and kindred, and tongue, and people, saying with a loud voice, Fear God, and give glory to him; for the hour of his judgment is come: and worship him that made heaven, and earth, and the fountains of waters.” “But ye shall receive power, after that the Holy Ghost is come upon you: and ye shall be witnesses unto me both in Jerusalem, and in all Judea, and in Samaria, and unto the uttermost part of the earth.” “And this gospel of the kingdom shall be preached in all the world for a witness unto all nations; and then shall the end come.”
With these scriptures before us, indicating the work to be done in this generation, does not the question, Where am I? come to us each with force? Am I still loitering about Jerusalem, without emitting light, or witnessing for the Master? Is there not a place somewhere in “Judea” or in “Samaria” or farther away from my present place of inactivity, where the Lord has appointed me to witness for him?
The writer is laboring in a field where the cause of present truth is weak, and in need of some good strong witnesses, as are many other places. We know also that there are many believers gathered in various places, of but little service where they are. But if scattered according to Acts 1:8, and filled with the Holy Spirit, they would be of immense value to the cause of present truth, and would hasten to its close that glorious message of the coming kingdom of our Lord.
Should not the following words from “Testimonies for the Church,” Vol. II, page 631, be carefully considered by every believer? “I have been shown that the disciples of Christ are his representatives upon the earth; and God designs that they shall be lights in the moral darkness of this world, dotted all over the country, in the towns, villages, and cities, ‘a spectacle unto the world, to angels, and to men.’ If they obey the teachings of Christ in his sermon on the mount, they will be seeking continually for perfection of Christian character, and will be truly the light of the world. . . . God can not display the knowledge of his will and the wonders of his grace among the unbelieving world, unless he has witnesses scattered all over the earth. It is his plan that those who are partakers of this great salvation, through Jesus Christ, should be his missionaries, bodies of light throughout the world, to be as signs to the people, living epistles, known and read of all men, their faith and works testifying to the near approach of the coming Saviour. . . . The people must be warned to prepare for the coming judgment.”
And then it is stated that to increase the members at a certain place, “brethren have moved there, leaving the places from which they came destitute of strength and influence to sustain meetings. This has pleased the enemies of God and the truth. Those brethren should have remained as faithful witnesses, their good works testifying to the genuineness of their faith, by exemplifying in their lives the purity and power of the truth. . . . Satan triumphs to see the vine of God’s planting either entirely uprooted or left to languish. It is not the purpose of God that his people should cluster together and concentrate their influence in a special locality. . . . God designs that his people shall be the light of the world, the salt of the earth. The plan of gathering together in large numbers, to compose a large church, has contracted their influence, and narrowed down their sphere of usefulness, and is literally putting their light under a bushel. It is God’s design that the knowledge of the truth shall come to all.” Are you where God would have you?
MRS. A. G. BODWELL
By Mrs. A. G. Bodwell
Friendship
MRS. A. G. BODWELL
Friendship is like a tender plant. It must be taken care of and cultivated.
When we see a beautiful flower in the market, we instinctively desire to possess it; and having secured a plant, we begin to wait for the appearance of that which will be the fruition of our hopes.
The most favorable situation is provided, and the best kind of soil. The plant is sheltered from the scorching rays of the midday sun, and the chilling blasts of wintry nights. Everything, in short, is done to aid in the development of the choice exotic which we so long to see burst forth into buds and flowers.
At last, after patient waiting, we are delighted with the appearance of one tiny bud after another, and finally a glorious flower bursts forth. Its delicate petals and fragrant aroma are a source of pleasure to all around.
So is friendship; and he who knows the habitat of this flower, and the secret of its cultivation, will certainly obtain the best results.
By nature man is a social being; but in order to reach the climax of association—noble friendship—we must give time and thought to its cultivation. Cultivation consists in little acts of disinterested kindness, thoughtfulness, sincerity, courtesy, and the thousand-and-one ways that are peculiar to each individual.
As the cultivation of the plant only aids in developing and enhancing its beauty, not in creating it, so true friendship must have its origin deeper down than mere outward acts. The seed must be from the garden above. It must have the sunshine of God's love and favor upon it, and it must be watered by the gentle dew of his Spirit, or it, like many other things in the world, will forever remain a hollow ceremonial.
In the vegetable kingdom, the plants are many and varied. But who would think of subjecting every one to the same method of cultivation to obtain the desired results? Just so it is, it would seem, with humanity; and this means that to be successful in winning souls, we must first show ourselves friendly, study the idiosyncrasies of each, and adapt ourselves to the different casts of human nature about us. For example: some persons are like chestnut-burs, and must be approached with care, or we may never know the sweetness of the nature within. Some are like the modest violet; if we would enjoy its fragrance, we must stoop to raise its drooping head. Others, like sensitive plants, fold up their beautiful leaves at every sudden gust of adversity that bursts upon them. One is like the bleeding-heart, and another is like heartsease. Some are like thistles; the more we cultivate them, the more able they are to hurt us. Some, like lilies, direct our thoughts to heaven. Others are like the pansy, whose very countenance is filled with consolation. Some, palm-like, are ever waving for victory, while others remind us of the sturdy oak whose head appears to reach above every cloud, and to drink in only the dew and sunshine of God's love.
There are friends and friends. Some cultivate our friendship in order to further some inglorious end; that is, for the pecuniary benefit which may accrue to them. When we are no longer able to serve them, we wake up to find ourselves on the ragged edge of oblivion. There are some clinging souls, who must have the support of friends, or else their delicate tendrils may clasp the things of earth, and thus be borne down to the filth and mire below.
A few, actuated by divine impulse, are friends because we need them. Of these the wise man spoke, no doubt, when he said: “Ointment and perfume rejoice the heart: so doth the sweetness of a man's friend by hearty counsel.”
In true friendship there is a kind of “bank-of-exchange” business. We gladly receive from our friends not only their golden thought treasures, but their protection and encouragement, and at the same time are unconsciously imparting like benefits to them.
As the flower has many parts, so we have many phases to our lives. True friendship is that which makes us love and admire the fragrance and beauty of the rose, even though it may possess a few troublesome thorns.
Flowers are only the promise of fruit; so may we, when time shall have wafted us away on its swift pinions to the city of God, have many sheaves to present to the Lord, as the fruition of our earthly friendships.
Clearing Up
Not the weather, but one's house, one's bureau drawers, and closets, and top shelves, and cubby-holes, are in one's power to clear up.
The very neatest housekeeper in the world has her occasional days of putting things to rights, of looking over her stuff and taking stock of her possessions, and of setting her realm in order. Reasons why this should very regularly be done are self-evident. Moth and rust are ever creeping stealthily into places which are closed from daylight. Dampness makes incursions where it is least expected, and dust sifts through cracks and keyholes.
The other day, having mislaid a precious bit of lace, a notable housewife resolved on setting right every repository under her care. She began at the attic, and worked slowly and diligently down. Had she dwelt in a city flat, her progress must have been lateral instead of perpendicular, but it might have been as thorough.
She discovered stacks of old and faded letters; dates were of twenty and thirty years ago. Reading them, she was brought in touch again with friends who have passed away, with friends now old, who then were youthful and impetuous, with a strange and bygone era, though it was but a section of a lifetime. Here were ashes of roses, sentiments which awakened no responsive chord, tones which vibrated no longer. The fitting place for these letters was the fire, and with a certain decorum and touch of gravity, the lady lighted a match and deposited the correspondence in the range, summer-empty of coal, and yawning to receive the strange burden.
Receipts belonging to ancient history shared the fate of the letters. Much of the dust-gathering material was thus eliminated from the housekeeper's task.
Now she came upon stores of clothing, put away with care, in the supposition that it would be made over at some future day. “It hardly belongs to me,” was her verdict, as she shook out skirts, and inspected jackets, and looked over garments which would do good service if13sent to some institution, asylum, or settlement. She made these into piles, labeled them and tied them up, to be sent away by express.
One of the most satisfactory results of her effort at restoring order to a somewhat confused house was in various “finds” which were real treasures; as, for example, books she had owned, which had drifted out of sight; and photographs which came out of limbo, smiling like acquaintances who had been long abroad. Tired, but contented, the lady went to bed early when she had completed her task.
One of these days every one of us will lie with folded hands in the final sleep. After a while those who love us will go over our things, seeing, while we are helpless, our little shifts and mysteries, handling and dividing our raiment, perhaps reading our letters, and putting in order for the last time the house which we tenant no longer. In view of this final disposition of our goods, made by loving hands, is it not wise to keep our effects in an order so beautiful that when we are gone our dear ones shall have no needless difficulty, and find themselves confronted with no very puzzling problems? Life will be no shorter if we are careful each day to set our affairs in order.—Intelligencer.
When the Children Come Home
By S. Frances Gilbraith Ingersoll
SHE sits in the twilight, dreaming,
Wrinkled, and old, and gray,
And the shadows upon the hearthstone
Are those of a bygone day.
The years are dropped as a garment,
And down through memory’s hall
She hears the patter of footsteps,
And voices of children call.
Brave Martin, the brown-haired laddie;
Sweet May, like a springtime bloom;
Wee Daisy, with heart full of sunshine,
Are all in the little room.
A tiny white stone in the churchyard
Reads: “Benny — a year and a day.”
And he nestles to-night in her bosom,
And watches the children play.
The pathway of life has been rugged;
Oft bruised were the patient feet;
And now, near the end of her journey,
She comes where the two ways meet.
Though hers tend down to the “valley,”
And theirs to the mountain height,
She heeds neither chill nor “shadow.”
As she dreams they are here to-night.
There’s a smile on the lips so silent:
The hands are folded in rest;
The heart, with its unfilled longing,
Lies silent within her breast.
In the sleep that knows no waking
Till the Lord in his glory shall come,
She waits the glad dawn of the morning,
When the children shall all come.
— S. Frances Gilbraith Ingersoll.
Best Plants for a Window
By H. Annette Poole
If I had room for only six plants, I would have eight, and one over for good measure, as I will explain later. I am aware there are many other desirable plants, but if I had only one window for them, these would bring daily joy to my soul, and “take care of themselves.”
First of all, I should get from a florist a thriving cyclamen which would be just opening its first buds at Christmas. Before its blossoming I should enjoy its beautiful foliage, and its faintly sweet flowers would hang on until Easter day. Next, for its filmy grace I would choose what is often called ‘lace-fern,’ but what is really asparagus tenuissimus, and for fragrance, a rose-geranium, turning it often and pinching it out, to keep it round and compact. A double nasturtium is seldom without its cheerful blossoms, and the bright yellow with its red markings is prettier than the red one. I would have one begonia, and here I must confess it would be difficult to choose. The “beefsteak” begonia, with large, smooth, round leaves, olive-green with red beneath, sends up late in the winter long waxen sprays of delicate pink blossoms, which last several weeks. The “trout” begonia has lovely serrated leaves spotted with white, and pretty blossoms. Then some of the richly colored “rex” begonias blossom, and their foliage is a constant delight. They do not need sun. It is a matter of personal preference. For a sixth delight I would have a hyacinth, or rather several hyacinths, planted in earth at little intervals of time, and kept in the dark, and brought out one after another, to occupy the last place on the shelf.
Over these six plants I would hang a pot of just the common variety of pink live oxalis, to fold up its leaves and blossoms every night, and open them in the morning like a little, rosy child. My eighth plant would be coliseum ivy, known also as Kenilworth ivy, planted in any of the pots containing the others. Its little round, scalloped foliage is always pretty, and it has a delicate little blossom faintly tinted with lavender. It is like a tiny snapdragon, and will open its mouth if you pinch its ears. Tiny sprays, pinched off, root readily, and the little black seeds, scattered over the earth in the pots, will soon make plants. When it withers, pull off what has died, and the rest will start up again. My “one plant over for good measure” would be a Japanese climbing fern, which can stand on the floor at the end of the shelf, and send up long fronds with a leafage more delicate than maidenhair. Give it a string, and it will go to the top of the room, and when it “fruits,” its grace is indescribable. After several months it ripens and turns brown, when one has only to cut it down, and presently it starts again.—H. Annette Poole, in American Agriculturist.
A Secret for Young Men
TWENTY clerks in a shop, twenty hands in a printing office, twenty apprentices in a shipyard, twenty young men in a village,—all want to get on in the world, and expect to do so. One of the clerks will become a partner, and make a fortune; one of the compositors will own a newspaper, and become an influential citizen; one of the apprentices will become a master builder; one of the villagers will get a handsome farm, and live like a patriarch; but which one is the lucky individual? Lucky! there is no luck about it. The thing is almost as certain as the rule of three. The young fellow who will distance his competitors is he who will master his business, who preserves his integrity, who lives cleanly and purely, who devotes his leisure to the acquisition of knowledge, who gains friends by deserving them, and who saves his spare money. There are some ways to fortune shorter than this old dusty highway; but the stanch men of the community, the men who achieve something really worth having, good fortune, good name, and serene old age,—one and all go on this road.—Moor’s Rural New Yorker.
Autumn’s Incense
By W. D. Nesbit
A SUBTLE incense fills the air,
And mingles with the sighing
Of breezes that this message bear:
“The good old year is dying.”
The creeping, dull October haze
Grows slowly, surely denser,
And through the closing of the days
There swings a smoking censer.
A censer heaped with autumn leaves
From green to crimson turning—
The vapor a weird pattern weaves
The while the leaves are burning.
In airy arabesques it sways
While twilight shades are glooming,
And all the shadow and the haze
The incense is perfuming.
The tang of it is wondrous sweet—
It is with summer scented;
It holds the rustle of the wheat
Through days glad and contented:
It has a whisper of the rose,
And apple blossom’s savor,
And June days with their lazy doze
Where grasses lent a flavor.
And so the censer slowly swings
While fields and woods are fading,
And memories of summer brings
When day to night is shading.
The burning leaves with spicy smoke
Join with the breezes sighing
Through golden beech and reddened oak,
“The good old year is dying.”
— W. D. Nesbit, in Chicago Tribune.
Sin a Serpent Not to Be Tampered With
THERE are many of the boys and men of our country who now have the power to save themselves, who will soon be crushed to death by whisky, cigarette smoking, or the loathsome diseases common to the fast and sporting class of men and women, or some other crime, unless they stop, repent, and forever quit such business.
“A noted wild beast tamer gave an exhibition of his pets in one of the leading London theaters. He carried lions, tigers, leopards, through their part of the entertainment, awing the audience by his wonderful nerve and his control over them. As a closing act of the performance he was to introduce an enormous boa-constrictor, thirty-five feet long. He had bought it when only two or three days old, and for twenty-five years he had handled it daily, so that it was considered perfectly harmless and completely under his control. He had seen it grow from a tiny reptile into a huge monster.
“The curtain rises upon an Indian woodland scene. The weird strains of an oriental band steal through the trees. A rustling noise is heard, and a huge serpent is seen winding its way through the undergrowth. It stops. It raises its head four, five, six feet in the air. Its eye sparkles. Its whole body seems animated. A man is seen on the other side emerging from the heavy foliage. Their eyes meet. The serpent quails before the man—the man is victor.
“Under his direction it goes through a series of frightful feats. At a signal from the man it slowly approaches him, and begins to coil its heavy folds around him. Higher and higher they rise, until man and serpent seem blended into one, and its hideous head is reared aloft high above the mass. The man gives a little scream, and the audience unite in a thunderous burst of applause, but it freezes on their lips. The trainer’s scream was his wail of death agony. Those cold, slimy folds had embraced him for the last time. They had crushed the life out of him, and the horror-stricken crowd heard bone after bone break as those powerful folds tightened around him. Man’s plaything had become his master. His slave for twenty-five years had now crushed him.”—Missionary World.
The Head Physician of the Late Pope a Friend to Our Principles
By Chas. T. Everson
CHAS. T. EVERSON
A SHORT time ago the eyes of the world were directed toward the Vatican because of the serious illness of Leo XIII, which sickness finally culminated in his death. Catholics in all parts of the world prayed for the recovery of the head of their church. Even kings and princes mingled their petitions with those of priests and prelates on behalf of the Roman pontiff. With so much solicitude felt for the condition of the pope's health, special interest would naturally center in the man who was the chief agent in answering the prayers of princes and prelates and the petitions of the great body of the Roman Catholic Church. This man upon whom the late pontiff15relied as a child does upon its mother, was Prof. Gaetano Mazzoni.
Professor Mazzoni was born in one of the small towns of Italy, but came to Rome to finish his education. He was graduated with honors from the medical department of the University of Rome; and by successive severe examinations he passed from one hospital to another until he became the assistant surgeon to all the hospitals of Rome. And in 1891, because of his extraordinary ability he was chosen by the faculty of the great University of Rome to be the surgeon-in-chief to all the hospitals in Rome. The person who is elected to this most important office holds it for a term of ten years. But at the end of his tenure in office, if he is still the most eminent surgeon in Italy, he may be re-elected by the faculty of the university. And just last year, because of the great fame that Professor Mazzoni had attained, he was re-elected to the office of surgeon-in-chief to all the hospitals of Rome for another ten years.
Because of his eminence as a surgeon, he was called to operate upon one of the leading cardinals of the Vatican; and the operation was so successful, and was performed in such a masterly way, that the professor won the implicit confidence and friendship of the cardinal. This cardinal was a very close friend of Leo XIII, and consequently when the pope became sick, he asked this cardinal's advice as to whom he should call as his physician.
This was in the year 1899. This prelate, having all confidence in Professor Mazzoni, immediately advised the pontiff to employ him. But the pope had learned that Dr. Mazzoni was not a good churchman, and on this ground objected to employing him. But the cardinal told the pope that what he needed at that time was a good doctor rather than a good churchman, and the pope called the doctor.
The professor at that time performed an operation on the pope that was very remarkable. Although the pope was then nearly ninety years old, the professor performed a highly successful operation whereby he removed, from his aged patient, a tumor of about six inches in diameter. The pope quickly recovered his health, and ever afterward had the utmost confidence in the ability of Dr. Mazzoni. On this occasion the pope presented the professor with his photograph with his autograph underneath.
The pope also conferred upon the professor the Order of St. Gregorio Magno, and made him honorary consulting physician to the Vatican. He refused the offer to become the regular doctor of the Vatican, but said that he would come whenever the pope needed him. The pope gave him the extraordinary privilege of coming to the Vatican whenever he chose, without procuring a special permit. Consequently during the last few years of the pope's life he went to see him every two or three days, and they frequently talked together for hours.
DR. MAZZONI
That the pope had the utmost confidence in the ability of Professor Mazzoni was seen again and again during his last illness. On one occasion when the pope knew that he must undergo an operation, he appeared quite uneasy. But when he saw that the professor was smiling, he was reassured. “Will it be anything very much?” the pope asked. “We shall have finished in a few minutes,” replied Dr. Mazzoni. “Will that be really so?” again asked the pope. “In any case,” he added, “do what you want. We have confidence in you.” And owing to the exceptional dexterity of Dr. Mazzoni, this operation was very successful, and in a short time eight hundred grams of sanguineous fluid was extracted. On the conclusion of the operation, Dr. Mazzoni said to the pope, “Your holiness, it is over.” “What,” replied the pope, “have you already finished? Why have I felt nothing this time? At other times when injections were made, I experienced pain.” “That is due,” replied the professor, “to a new instrument that I have used, which I will show your holiness when you have recovered.” The pope then exclaimed, “Very well, you shall; but it is certain that the greatest credit is due to the marvelous hand of Mazzoni.”
After this operation the pope experienced greater freedom of respiration, and looked brighter. He thanked Professor Mazzoni several times, and presented him with the neck-chain that he usually wears. But while the professor's operations were remarkably successful, yet, because of the extreme age of the patient, a restoration to health was an impossibility. Professor Mazzoni told me that the pope had such a severe form of pleurisy that had an ordinary man been attacked by it, he would not have lasted so long as did the pope.
Now this man who has been given so much prominence in connection with his attendance on the pope, is a friend of our principles of treatment. It means something to have a man like this favor our principles, and not be afraid to say so,—a man whose standing entitles him to the first place in Italy as a surgeon, and whose reputation has gone around the world.
I have been to see him several times, and have been cordially received. The professor first became interested in our method of treatment by seeing that it really was able to do great things. A few years ago, having a patient whom he could not help, he sent her to our sanitarium at Basel. She remained there under the skilful care of Dr. DeForest for some months, and then returned to Rome cured. She met the doctor a few days after her return, and told him that she was well. But he, not being yet converted to our methods, said that a little water and nuts would not last long. But the nuts lasted, and the water did not fail, and the young lady remained well for years and worked hard, and is still well. When the professor saw this, he began to perceive that there was something in the treatment that could do that which even he with all his ability could not do. Then he began to call the young lady his marvel, and sent for some of our books, that he might know about these things. When I first went to see him, he told me that he wanted some good scientific book on our principles, that when we should begin our work here, he might help us more intelligently.
About two weeks ago I went to see the professor again; and although he was extremely tired from the long strain that he had labored under in the recent illness of the late pope, and several patients were waiting for him, he gave me nearly an hour of his time. He told me that although there was a hydropathic establishment in Rome, yet he believed that when we got started, we would offer something far superior. In fact, he said that he believed our method of treatment is the best there is. The difficulty, he thought, was to convince the Italian people of its merits. He does not believe in medicines, and that is saying a great deal for a doctor in this country where medicines are so freely used. But in a country where the people depend so much upon what the leaders say, it will be a great help in interesting the people to be able to quote the words of such an eminent man in support of our principles.16
I told him we intended to get out some literature and inform the people. He thought that would be a good idea, and he also said that when we once get started and cure a few patients whom the other hospitals can not help, our principles will soon spread, first to tens, and then to hundreds. This plainly shows that the professor has confidence in what these principles will do when they are put to the test.
As he had been wanting a good book on our methods of treatment, I secured for him a book from Dr. Kellogg, on “Rational Hydrotherapy.” He was glad to receive this book, and was especially pleased because it was presented to him by the author.
In a country like this, where our principles are so little known, God has evidently gone before and prepared the way in providing a friend for these principles in such an eminent man, who is himself an Italian, and therefore one in whom the people have confidence; for while they might not listen to us, they all believe in what he says. He is not much of a Catholic, as we have noticed already in connection with his service to the pope. And, in fact, the devout Catholics said at that time that the pope would surely die because he had called a “heretic” to operate upon him.
He is already wealthy, and has a world-wide reputation, and therefore, looking at it from a worldly point of view, he has nothing to gain from us, and is evidently interested in these things because he has faith in them, and believes that they can accomplish great things.
It is not necessary for me to say that we ought to begin medical work in Rome as soon as possible. We expect to begin sanitarium and medical missionary work here just as soon as we are able to do so.
