Earlier text: THE OBJECT OF THE SABBATHTHE RELIGIOUS VERTEBRATE.
By George H. Hubbard
BY THE REV. GEORGE H. HUBBARD. NATURAL scientists classify the animate creation in two grand divisions,—vertebrates and invertebrates. The vertebrate is the animal with a backbone and its accompanying skeleton, which gives to its possessor grace and definiteness of form, combined with strength and beauty. He is a higher order of being than his invertebrate brother, and much more perfectly developed. The backbone was introduced very early in the process of evolution; for it was impossible to make any satisfactory progress without it. A world of invertebrates would be a poor world indeed. It is the backbone that makes the difference between the lobster and the race horse. In the church of Christ a twofold classification appears not unlike that of the natural scientists. There are vertebrate Christians, and there are invertebrate Christians. There are Christians with no moral backbone, no clearly defined character, no spiritual grace and power. They may be men or women of culture, of large views, of more than usual capacities and talents; but they add little strength to the church; they exert little influence for good. On the other hand there is the religious vertebrate, the Christian with the backbone. He is instinctively recognized as belonging to a much higher order of spiritual being. He is a well formed and clearly defined character. He is a power in the church and community, a noble product of spiritual development. What makes the difference between these two classes of Christians, found in every church and every community?—The backbone. But what is the backbone?—In animals it is that strong bony column which, with its branches, gives firmness and shape to the body, holding in place the softer flesh and sinews and muscles. Animals that lack this internal skeleton are often provided with a clumsy substitute covering them externally in the form of a shell, as in the case of the oyster and crab. The vertebrates are creatures with an internal skeleton, as contrasted with those having an external skeleton, or no skeleton at all. So the vertebrate Christians are those Christians whose basis of character and conduct is within themselves; while the religious invertebrates either have no fixed rule of life, or are constantly seeking some rule outside themselves. Spiritual backbone is not merely strength of will; for we may find that very often in the religious vertebrate. It is, rather, definite moral principle, strong personal convictions of truth and duty, than which nothing is more essential to the development of the true Christian character. Without this there can be no moral strength and maturity, nor any beauty or completeness of life. The character that is not shaped and braced by definite principle will be as unsubstantial as the jellyfish, and as changeful as the clouds or the shifting sand. The spirituality that is not vitalized by the leaven of moral principle will have no power of growth or development, but must remain forever imperfect. For too many persons the sole law of action is external. They are the slaves of expediency, or public opinion, or what not. Instead of a backbone, they have a shell, and their spiritual life is but a clumsy and inefficient affair. Not a few young disciples long for some definite command, some "Thou shalt" or "Thou shalt not," to settle every difficult question that presents itself to them. They fancy that it would make life easier, and the path of duty much plainer; and they forget that such a course would be fatal to all extended spiritual growth. How many refer all debatable matters to the minister, or to some Christian friend of greater wisdom and experience than themselves, and order their conduct by the advice given? In special emergencies, when such advice cannot be obtained, or when it is unsatisfactory, they turn their Bibles into conjuring books, and by the chance opening to some significant word or verse they decide that which should have been determined by a clear principle within themselves. Such a use of the Bible degrades the word of God to the level of a heathen oracle. Worse than this, it condemns him who so uses it to a perpetual state of spiritual invertebracy. A worthy moral or Christian character can no more be developed by formal obedience to specific precepts than can great scientific knowledge and power be built upon mathematical rules. One will not become a Newton by merely committing to memory all the mathematical formulæ, neither will one become a Phillips Brooks by obeying certain specific rules of conduct. We must search beneath all rules and precepts for the great principle which they embody. This is the secret of spiritual strength, of noble and growing character. Principle is the moral "base-line" by which we measure and direct our conduct as accurately and as surely as the surveyor maps out the line of a railway. Principle is like the law of crystallization; it renders a man's character as much superior to that of the mere legalist as the crystal is unspeakably more beautiful than the amorphous rock. Says Dr. W. M. Taylor: "If we do that only which is formally prescribed, and if, where the law leaves a blank to be filled up by circumstances, we act as if there were no law at all, then we have yet to learn what true morality or righteousness is. Nay, more, we have yet to learn what kind of a book the New Testament is; for it is not a list of distinct precepts, each of which is applicable to only one case, but it is a book of living principles of universal application, and he who really understands them, and has a heart to feel their obligation, will be at no loss to find opportunity for their manifestation. To read it as if it were a set of rubrics, with minute directions for every detail of conduct, will make us Pharisees; to read it as a book of great principles, that are to have free course through all our actions, will make us disciples of Him who went about doing good." If, then, we would attain to the highest type of moral character, we must do it, not by a mere formal obedience to certain fixed laws even though they be divine, but by seeking to master and to incorporate into our lives the principles which underlie those laws. In other words, we must develop a strong moral backbone. Having this, we shall instinctively fulfill the outward and formal requirements of God's law, and our conduct will naturally fall into the true channel. Day by day there will be a constant moral growth, a steady and noble development of spiritual power, until we attain the full stature of the character of Christ Jesus.—S. S. Times. Reflections on Human Pride and Corruption
By Adams
ALL the reflections I make upon the pride, corruption, blindness, and deadly fall of man, upon the necessity of the daily cross and death to the world, I bestow freely upon others; and am hindered by the deceitfulness of mine own heart, and the artifice of the devil, from turning the edge of them upon myself.—Adams. LET ME SEE CHRIST CRUCIFIED.
By Dr. J. E. Lancely
O MY sin-absolving, soul-healing Saviour! let me see thee, not as thou sattest in thy splendor on the mount of transfiguration, enrobed in blinding beauty, thy garments white and glistening, thy countenance shining as the sun; but let me see thee straining beneath thy sad burden up the steep of Calvary, thy back furrowed and bleeding with the chastisement for my peace; let me see thee “lifted up” to the vengeance of heaven, the malice of earth, the fury of hell; for when I see thee thus, I see the guilt of man, and mine, forever put away, the sin at once condemned and pardoned; and as I gaze on thee, in thy bitter agony, I feel that to me, even me, the bitterness of death is passed. O Christ! thy death wears to the eye of faith all the blooming hues of immortal life; every groan which escapes thy lips speaks out a gospel of bliss, and that accursed tree appears to me as the “tree of life in the midst of the paradise of God.” O brethren, it is God's way, not ours! We cannot explain it. It is the better, not the worse, for that. We can study it, contemplate it, prove its efficacy, and then make it our glory. We must put it where the Christ himself put it,—in the first place. It will astonish and perplex the philosophers, as it does. To the Jew spirit it will be always a “stumbling block,” and to the Greek spirit “foolishness;” but it must not be put aside or made secondary on that account; for “to them that are called, both Jews and Greeks, it will be the power of God and the wisdom of God, because the foolishness of God is wiser than men, and the weakness of God is stronger than men.”—Dr. J. E. Lancely. How SWEET is the word "home"! Its very mention touches a chord in every heart that has known aught of its endearments. Home is the center of pure affections—of all that is bright and joyous in this world. The memories of home are sacred. The prayers of a devoted father, the early instructions of a Christian mother, are not in vain. Years may roll on without any evident result, but it is written, "Cast thy bread upon the waters, and thou shalt find it after many days." And why is the old adage so true, "There is no place like home"? Because affection—love—is its center. Home does not consist merely in a place. Who would feel at home, even in his own house, if it were full of strangers? Would the well-known walls and furniture make up for the fond faces and loving hearts? Death will sooner or later make a gap in the fireside circle. It may be the opening bud, the father's pride, the mother's joy, or it may be the head himself, causing each one to bow down in sorrow. Whoever it be, the circle is broken—one is gone—and the heart learns that perfect happiness is not to be found in an earthly home. But there is a home which is perfect. It is brighter, and fairer, and lovelier than the brightest home on earth. You know where it is. Have you felt any desire to be there? Can you say, as you look up to God, "I have a home above?" Oh, this home is better than all! It is without sin or sorrow—all is joy and rejoicing there forever. And as with our earthly homes, so with our heavenly homes—it is not the place, but he who dwells there, that makes it happy. "Whom have I in heaven but Thee?" said the Psalmist. Heaven without Christ would not be heaven, and he who has Jesus now, knows heaven begun even on this earth. Do you think any child would feel happy if he were taken from his parents and placed among strangers, who cared not for him? Much less could a man who loves this world, and lives for it, feel happy if he were in heaven with those whose thoughts and feelings were quite different from his own. It is written in God's word that nothing that defileth can enter there. The soul must be renewed, the garments of sin taken off, every shred of self-righteousness cast away, and the sinner clothed with the spotless robe of righteousness prepared of God before he can be admitted into this holy home. God works by his Holy Spirit in the heart of fallen man, convincing him of sin, of his utter ruin, of his need of a Saviour. Then he reveals to the broken-hearted sinner the love of God in sending his Son to die. He shows the completeness of his salvation, the sufficiency of Christ's blood to wash away every stain of sin; and whoever believes in Christ is made fit for God's house, and in his heart loves the joys of heaven. "And there shall be no more curse; but the throne of God and of the Lamb shall be in it; and his servants shall serve him; and they shall see his face; and his name shall be in their foreheads."—Selected. THE boy marched straight up to the counter. "Well, my little man," said the merchant complacently (he had just risen from such a glorious good dinner), "what will you have to-day?" "Oh, please, sir, mayn't I do some work for you?" It might have been the pleasant blue eyes that did it, for the man was not accustomed to parley with such small gentlemen, and Tommy wasn't seven yet, and small of his age at that. There were a few wisps of hair along the edges of the merchant's temples, and, looking down on the appealing face, the man pulled at them. When he had done tweaking them, he gave the ends of his cravat a brush, and then his hands traveled down to his vest pocket. "Do some work for me, eh? Well, now, about what sort of work might your small manship calculate to be able to perform? Why, you can't look over the counter." "Oh, yes I can, and I am growing, please, growing fast; there, see if I can't look over the counter!" "Yes, by standing on your toes; are they coppered?" "Why, your toes. Your mother could not keep you in shoes if they were not." "She can't keep me in shoes anyhow, sir," and the voice hesitated. The man took pains to look over the counter. It was too much for him; he couldn't see the little toes. Then he went all the way around. "I thought I should need a microscope," he said very gravely, "but I reckon if I get close enough I can see what you look like." "I'm older than I'm big, sir," was the next rejoinder. "Folks say I'm very small of my age." "What might your age be, sir?" responded the man, with emphasis. "I'm almost seven," said Tommy, with a look calculated to impress even six feet nine. "You see, my mother hasn't anybody but me, and this morning I saw her crying because she could not find five cents in her pocket-book, and she thinks the boy who took the ashes stole it—and—I—have—not—had—any—any breakfast, sir." The voice again hesitated, and tears came to the blue eyes. "I reckon I can help you to a breakfast, my little fellow," said the man, feeling in his vest pocket. "There, will that quarter do?" "Mother wouldn't let me beg, sir," was the simple answer. "Humph! Where is your father?" "We never heard of him, sir, after he went away. He was lost, sir, in the steamer City of Boston." "Ah! that's bad. But you are a plucky little fellow, anyhow. Let me see," and he puckered up his mouth, and looked straight down into the boy's eyes, which were looking straight into his. "Saunders," he asked, addressing a clerk, who was rolling up and writing on parcels, "is Cash No. 4 still sick?" "Dead, sir; died last night," was the low reply. "Ah, I'm sorry to hear that! Well, here's a youngster that can take his place." Mr. Saunders looked up slowly, then put his pen behind his ear, then his glance traveled curiously from Tommy to Mr. Towers. "Oh, I understand!" said the latter. "Yes, he is small, very small, very small indeed, but I like his pluck. What did No. 4 get?" "Three dollars, sir," said the still astonished clerk. "Put this boy down four. There, youngster, give him your name, and run home and tell your mother you have got a place at $4.00 a week. Come back on Monday and I'll tell you what to do. Here's a dollar in advance; I'll take it out of your first week. Can you remember?" "Work, sir, work all the time?" "As long as you deserve it, my man." Tommy shot out of that shop. If ever broken stairs that had a twist through the whole flight creaked and trembled under the weight of a small boy, or perhaps, as might be better stated, laughed and chuckled on account of a small boy's good luck, those in that tenement house enjoyed themselves thoroughly that morning. "I've got it, mother! I'm took. I'm a cash boy! Don't you know when they take parcels the clerks call, 'Cash'? Well, I'm that. Four dollars a week! and the man said I had real pluck, courage, you know. And here's a dollar for breakfast; and don't you ever cry again, for I'm the man of the house now." The house was only a little 10x15 room, but how those blue eyes did magnify it! At first the mother looked confounded; then she looked—well, it passes my power to tell how she did look as she took him in her arms and hugged him and kissed him, the tears streaming down her cheeks. But they were tears of thankfulness.—English Journal. THERE are many persons who think it a very proper matter to ask a friend for letters of introduction to public men or influential persons with whom he may be acquainted. Upon this the N. Y. World has the following sensible remarks:— There are at least three directions in which Americans should abbreviate their demonstrations. The custom of indiscriminate hand shaking, promiscuous introductions, and the writing of letters of introduction by the score, are all to be condemned utterly and emphatically. A man has no business to write a letter of introduction unless he is altogether sure that the introduction will be a matter of mutual pleasure and699 advantage. This matter cannot always be ascertained, particularly if the correspondent is thousands of miles away, as is the case under consideration. This being true, the argument that the introduction will be agreeable must simply be unanswerable. The man who writes a letter of introduction is practically quartering one friend on another friend if the other friend resides in a strange country, and the utmost caution is demanded. In spite of all this, there are people who write letters of introduction with as little thought as they write notes to a tailor or a bootmaker, and these are the kind of people to whom this correspondent seems to have been accustomed. "I say what I think," says the valiant man,
With a voice and a look of daring,
Determined to act on a selfish plan,
And for nobody's comfort caring—
"I say what I think;" and at every chance
This impulse of his obeying,
'Tis plain to be seen at a single glance
He doesn't think what he's saying. Oh, many an arrow will reach the heart
For which it was never intended,
If a careless marksman wings the dart;
And the hurt can never be mended;
And many a friendship may be lost,
And many a love link broken,
Because of neglect to count the cost
Of words that are lightly spoken! "I say what I think." Ah! the truly great,
Who give their wisdom expression
In chosen phrases, would hesitate
To make such a rash confession.
For think what injuries might be wrought,
What evils we could not smother,
If everyone said just what they thought
With regard to one another! To say what you think is a noble thing
When your voice for the right is needed,
To speak out your mind with a loyal ring
When order and law are impeded;
But the evil thoughts that flow through the brain
And the heart should be retarded,
For we lessen the tide of grief and pain
When our speech is carefully guarded. You may think what you choose, nor give offense,
Be a traitor, and not display it;
And if you're deficient in common sense,
By silence you'll not betray it.
And let it be written in blackest ink,
For the good of each son and daughter,
That those who always say what they think
Are most of the time in hot water.
—Selected. COCOANUTS AND SKULLS.—Curious resemblances in nature start with the cocoanut, in many respects like the human skull, and almost a facsimile of the monkey's. The meat of the English walnut is almost a copy of the human brain; plums and black cherries, like the human eye; almonds, like the human nose, and an opened oyster and shell, a perfect likeness of the human ear.
The shape of a man's body may be traced in the mammoth squash; the open hand, in growing scrub-willows and celery; the human heart, in German turnips and egg plant, and dozens of the mechanical inventions of the present day, to patterns furnished by nature. LOOK OUT FOR DAMPNESS.—Never sleep with the bed against the wall, for health as well as convenience. It is unhealthy to sleep next to a wall, because of possible dampness, and also, more serious still, because the breath exhaled is thrown back into the face and breathed again. Headache has often been permanently cured by pushing the bed to the middle of the room.
AN UNTRUE STORY.—The fiction of the deadly upas tree of Java has only this basis of fact to rest upon: The tree exudes a poisonous juice that the natives use to mix with other ingredients to coat their arrows; it also grows only in the low-lying Java Valley, where deadly carbonic gas more or less always escapes from the crevices of the volcanic rocks. Thus is history made.
THE LATEST IN BALLOONS.—A large balloon, intended to make headway against air currents of twenty-eight miles an hour, is being made in France. It will be similar in form to the La France of 1884-85, but larger—230 feet in length and 43 feet in its greatest diameter. It will weigh 66 pounds per horse power, and will be propelled by a screw in front with a rudder behind.
ELECTRIC RAILWAYS.—There are over seven thousand miles of completed electrical railway in the United States, and in a year to come there is little doubt the total will be doubled. Electric traction is cheaper than any form of steam propulsion or the use of horses, and there is little doubt that the passenger traffic of the steam roads will ultimately be largely diverted to the electric roads for short-distance travel in all parts of the country.
THE LONGEST DAY.—The longest day of the year varies with the part of the world that we talk about. In Tornea, Finland, Christmas day is but three hours long. At Stockholm, Sweden, it is eighteen and a half hours long. At Spitzbergen the longest day is three months long.
In London and in Bremen, Prussia, the longest day has sixteen and a half hours. At Hamburg, Germany, and Danzig, Prussia, seventeen hours make the longest day. At Wardsbury, Norway, the longest day lasts from May 21 to July 22, without a break. At St. Petersburg, Russia, and Tobolsk, the longest day has nineteen hours and the shortest five hours. At Tornea, Finland, whose Christmas day has but three hours, the longest day has nearly twenty-two hours. The longest day at New York comes close to fifteen hours, and at Montreal, Canada, to nearly sixteen hours. RECLAIMING OLD RUBBER.—Crude rubber is worth from 40 to 75 cents per pound, and yet a pound of hose or packing costs very much less. This would be hardly practical if it were not for the advances that have been made in the art of reclaiming or recovering rubber, which can be done at the total cost of about three cents per pound. There are several large factories in the country devoted solely to this purpose, and a great many manufacturers do recovering on a small scale at the seat of production of new goods. These old goods are placed in large tanks at the place of reclaiming. A solution of muriatic or sulphuric acid and water is poured upon the waste, and the whole set to boiling by a system of steam pipes passing through the tank. After ten or twelve hours' boiling the cotton fiber which is found in all rubber manufactures, and which is the serious drawback in the reclaiming process, disintegrates and falls into a powder, and there is no difficulty then in the use of the waste. There are other processes of reclamation, all of which are covered by patents and over which there is at present a great deal of litigation.—N. Y. World.
THE PEOPLE OF ASSAM.
By Rev. P. H. Moore
ASSAM is one of the twelve principal civil divisions into which British India is divided for convenience of administration. Among these it ranks tenth in extent of territory, and eleventh in number of population. About three-fifths of the people are Hindus, one-third Mohammedans, one-tenth hill-tribe people, and the others are Buddhists, Brahmans, Sikhs, and Christians. They have very peculiar ideas with reference to God and their obligations to him. Come, walk down the street with me; the first man we meet is a Hindu. Will you tell me now what his religious tenets are? You know in a general way what Hinduism is, but I venture the assertion that there is just about one chance in three hundred and thirty-three million that you will be right in getting the exact shade of this man’s thought; for Hinduism is a broad term, ranging from absolute monotheism on one extreme to polytheism, multiplied to the three hundred and thirty-three millionth degree on the other. But you say this man shows by that daub of paint on his forehead just what his position in Hinduism is. Yes, quite true—that is, almost true—that is, it would be true if he squared his creed according to the books. But such is not the case. Keep in mind the history of this people. Remember that, though they are called Hindus, you will go very wide of the mark if you expect to find their beliefs agreeing with those of Hindus in other parts of India, as described in books on Hinduism. The denominations of Christians are numerous, but the differences of Hindus are legion. So that the three-fifth part of the population that are called Hindus present peculiarities that nothing short of local acquaintance will enable one to understand. As a class they are idolaters, though we shall probably see no idols in our walk; these are generally kept in temples and houses of worship. We have reason to be thankful that their excessive sanctity requires that most of the time they be veiled from the12 vulgar gaze, so that their hideous forms are not more frequently thrust upon us. We may see here and there shrines by the roadside—small, low pyramids of masonry with a hollow in one side, from which a dirty little lamp sends forth a feeble, flickering light. But the devotees here are probably not native Assamese. They are immigrants of the merchant class—worshipers of Ganesh. They are priest-ridden; they call their priests God, and are much more afraid to disregard their word than to disobey the law of God. A man will tell you that lying is sin, that it is evil in itself, and God’s punishment, that it is hell, but he goes on lying without compunction. He next admits to you that eating chicken is no sin in itself, still he will starve rather than eat it, simply because the priest forbids it. Does he not fear man rather than God? He yields assent to authority rather than reason, but it is human authority rather than divine. To disobey the priest is to become outcast, which means more to the average Hindu than all the torments of hell. Hindu castes are numerous—some high, some low. To whichever of these he belongs, his chief concern is so to observe its rules as to keep within its pale. Outward observance is all that is required for this. Hence it comes to pass that Hinduism, whose central thought is supposed to be undistracted meditation on the Deity, has degenerated into a round of lifeless formalities which now bind the people like fetters of brass. Until the government introduced secular education, the priestly class had a monopoly of learning. Since the days of Manu (700 B.C.) it has been regarded as a grave offense for one of low caste to so much as hear the words of their sacred scriptures. Thus the twin sisters, ignorance and superstition, have held almost undisputed sway. That next man we meet is a Mussulman. The Mussulmans of Assam belong to the same ethnical stock as the Hindus, being in large part descendants of the converts to Islam made at the time of the various Mogul invasions of Assam. Hence, the greater part of Mohammedans are found in the districts bordering on Bengal, where those invaders were most successful. Many of them hold the doctrines of Islam very loosely, or are very ignorant of what they are. Still they present a solid front against polytheism and idolatry; but the vices so characteristic of the followers of the prophet find a fertile soil and attain luxuriant growth in the Mussulmans of Assam. Although no hour of the day has passed without lying and deceit—if with no more outrageous sin—do they not pray to the prophet four times a day, and will he not on this account plead effectually for them with the one God whose prophet he is? Works of merit to counterbalance their demerit, before God are the great desiderata with both Mussulmans and Hindus. "Blessed are the pure in heart" is not among their beatitudes. Passing on we find a man whose sturdy limbs give proof of mountain climbing. His prominent cheek bones and slightly Mongolian cast of features at once mark him as different from the Assamese. I tell you he is a hill man. But can you tell me what demon he worships? That buffalo, pig, or goat that he killed yesterday with so many incantations, calling loud and long on the name of his god—whose wrath was he attempting to propitiate by the act? What benefit did he expect from killing that fowl according to a time-honored formula, leaving its blood and feathers under that green tree for the demon’s acceptance, and taking home its flesh to feast himself and family and perhaps his neighbor also? Is it the demon of earth, or air, or wood, or mountain, whom he fears will cause the failure of all his crops, and make his flocks and herds sterile, and his wife barren, if he does not thus offer sacrifices? Why are there no benevolent as well as malevolent spirits among his household penates? More than forty languages and dialects are spoken in Assam. Half of these are languages of hill-tribe people. All these hill people are demon worshipers, but each tribe has its own demons and its own ceremonies, preserved in pristine purity or largely modified by their environment. Remember, too, that the ranks of the Hindus are largely swelled by numbers of these hill-tribe peoples, who, having given up keeping swine and drinking strong home-made rice liquor, to which they are greatly addicted, and paid a small annual fee to the priest, are admitted to the lower castes in the Brahmanical system. The hill people generally are anxious for the present life, saying, What shall we eat? and what shall we drink? and wherewithal shall we be clothed (though very little clothing suffices?) and the life to come claims very little of their thought. That Kachari, for instance, is a genuine Sadducee, and denies that there is either resurrection, or angel, or spirit. His motto is, "Let us eat, drink, and be merry, for to-morrow we die; as the beast dieth, so dies the man." That Mikir, on the other hand, looks forward to a great and beautiful city into which he may hope to gain admittance after an indefinite number of transmigrations of soul. When his brother dies, he first mourns his loss with loud lamentations, then places by the corpse food and liquor for the journey of the departed spirit, and, having allowed one or more days for the spirit to rest before starting on its long journey, he gathers his friends and neighbors and bids it depart joyfully on its journey, bidding it adieu with much mirth and singing, dancing and feasting, lasting all night in case of a child, and for several successive nights in case of a leading man. There is a respectable looking man of the better class of the people. He has broken away from the thralldom of caste, and now imprecates curses upon it. He has dared to think that his forefathers were wrong in matters of faith. He is a Brahman, a Unitarian among Hindus, the Indian Theosophist. He has risen superior to the rubbish of Hinduism. He wants no mediator between God and man. The human soul has a natural right to enter directly into the presence of the Father of us all. Human sin is too trivial an affair to have annulled this right. Hence no atonement is required, and he goes directly to God in worship. He dwells much on the infinite love of God, and does not trouble himself as to how he can be just and yet justify one who has broken his law. Hence, leaving out of sight the holiness of God, he also misses the most marvelous manifestation of his love in the divine Saviour. Here now we meet a native Christian. The chances are that he is from the hill-tribe people, or, if formerly a Hindu, that he is from the lower rather than the higher classes. Here at least, you think, is a man who believes and thinks as you do. But do not be too sure of this. Did not idolatrous superstitions cling to converts from heathenism in the days of the apostles? Do not be surprised if you find some of his former superstitions mingled with the truth which he has received in Jesus. The ideas and associations of his childhood may not yet have been fully outgrown, though he is a true believer in the Christ of God. Such are some of the religious characteristics met with in mission work in Assam.—Jubilee Conference. THE following story is from a recent English work entitled "Blessed Be Drudgery," by Wm. C. Gannett:— "In a pottery factory here there is a workman who had one small invalid child at home. He wrought at his trade with exemplary fidelity, being always in the shop with the opening of the day. He managed, however, to bear each evening to the bedside of his 'wee lad,' as he called him, a flower, a bit of ribbon, or a fragment of crimson glass—indeed, anything that would lie out on the white counterpane and give color to the room. He was a quiet, unsentimental man, but never went home a night without something that would make the wan face light up with joy at his return. He never said to a living soul that he loved that boy so much. Still he went on patiently loving him, and by and by he moved that whole shop into positively real but unconscious fellowship with him. The workmen made curious little jars and cups and painted diminutive pictures down their sides before they stuck them in the corners of the kiln at burning time. One brought some fruit in the bulge of his apron, and another engravings in a rude scrapbook. Not one of them whispered a word, but they put them in the old man's hat, where he found them; he understood all about it. "And, believe it or not, cynics, as you will, but it is a fact that the entire pottery full of men, of rather coarse fiber by nature, grew quiet as the months drifted, becoming gentle and kind; and some dropped swearing as the weary look on the patient fellow-worker's face told them beyond mistake that the inevitable shadow was drawing nearer. Every day someone did a piece of work for him and put it on a sanded band to dry, so that he could come later and go earlier. So when the bell tolled, and the little coffin came out of the lonely door, right around the corner, out of sight, there stood a hundred stalwart workingmen from the pottery, with their clean clothes on, most of whom had given half a day's time for the privilege of taking part in the simple procession and following to the grave that small burden of a child which probably not one had ever seen." Our Master has taken his journey
To a country far away,
And has left us a task to finish
Against his reckoning day.
There's a work for me, and a work for you,
Something for each of his servants to do. Your task may be great and glorious,
And mine but a simple one;
It differs little. The question is,
Will his coming find it done? Or perhaps in his deeper knowledge
He has thought it wise and best
That, while others toil in service,
Our part be to wait and rest. It matters not, in this little while,
Whether we work, or watch, or wait,
So we fill the place he assigns us,
Be the service small or great. There is one thing only concerns us,—
To find the task that is ours,
And then, having found it, to do it
With all our God-given powers. Our Master is coming most surely,
To reckon with everyone;
Shall we then count toil or sorrow,
If his sentence be, "Well done"? Arkansas Tract Society—H. Clay Griffin, Van Buren, Ark.
Atlantic Tract Society—T. A. Kilgore, Sec., 43 Bond St., N. Y.
Australia—Echo Publishing House, North Fitzroy, Victoria.
and A. Reekie, 2 Cook Street, Glebe Point, Sydney, N. S. W.
California Tract Society—1059 Castro St., Oakland, Cal.
Canada—Mrs. A. E. Taylor, 97 Plymouth Grove, Montreal, Canada. and G. W. Morse, 20 Melbourne Ave., Toronto, Ontario.
China and Japan—A. LaRue, International Tract Society
Queens Road 219, Hongkong, China.
Colorado Tract Society—Miss Leah Vandermark, Sec., 920 W.
Sixth Ave., Denver, Col.
Dakota Tract Society—Mrs. A. H. Robinson, Vilas, S. Dak.
England—International Tract Society, 59 Paternoster Row,
and 451 Holloway Road, London.
Illinois Tract Society—125 W. Monroe St., Springfield, Ill.
Indiana Tract Society—J. W. Moore, Sec., 175 Central Ave.,
Indianapolis, Ind.
Iowa Tract Society—J. V. Willson Sec., 603 East 12th St.,
Des Moines, Iowa.
Kansas Tract Society—Lucy M. Olds, Sec., 821 West 5th St.,
Topeka, Kan.
Maine Tract Society—B. F. Davis, Box 181, Hartland, Me.
Maritime Provinces Tract Society—Mrs. I. H. Cowie, Sec.,
Box 85, Moncton, N. B.
Michigan Tract Society—J. S. Hall, Sec., Review and Herald
Office, Battle Creek, Mich.
Minnesota Tract Society—C. N. Woodward, 336 East Lake St.,
Minneapolis, Minn., P. O. Box 989.
Missouri Tract Society.—Vita Morrow, Sec., 2010 East 23d St.,
Kansas City, Mo.
Montana—Mrs. Emma Emmons, Sec., Box 97, Livingston, Mont.
Nebraska Tract Society—Mary F. Beatty, Sec., 1505 E St.,
Lincoln, Neb.
Nevada—Cal. Tract Society, 1059 Castro St., Oakland, Cal.
New England—N. E. Tract Society, Mrs. E. T. Palmer, Sec.,
South Lancaster, Mass.
New Jersey, Del., Md., New York City, and Brooklyn, N. Y.,
and Dist. Col.—T. A. Kilgore, No. 43 Bond St., New York.
New York State—E. N. Washbond, Sec., N. Y. Tract Society, 317
West Bloomfield St., Rome, N. Y.
New Zealand Tract Society, M. H. Tuxford, Agent, Banks'
Terrace, Wellington, N. Z.
North Pacific—Geo. E. Henton, Sec., 727 East Taylor St., East
Portland, Oregon.
Ohio Tract Society—L. T. Dysert, Sec., 74 Kinsman St., Cleve-
land, O.
Pennsylvania Tract Society—W. M. Lee, Sec., Box 614, Wil-
liamsport, Penn.
Scandinavian Tract Society—Akersgaden 74, Christiania, Nor.
South Africa—International Tract Society, Somerset House,
Roeland St., Cape Town.
Southern District Tract Society—L. Dyo Chambers, 23 Early
St., Chattanooga, Tenn.
Switzerland—Imprimerie Polyglotte, 48 Weiherweg, Basel.
Tennessee—Miss. M. G. Mason, Sec., 1009 Shelby Ave., Nash-
ville, Tenn.
Texas Tract Society—T. T. Stevenson, Sec., Box 9, Oak Cliff,
Dallas Co., Texas.
Upper Columbia—Mrs. M. E. Ford, College Place, Wash.
Utah—J. J. Ireland, 1059 Castro St., Oakland, Cal.
Vancouver Island—B. Robb, 231 Pandora St., Victoria, B. C.
Vermont—Lizzie A. Stone, lock box 237, Essex Junction, Vt.
Virginia—Mrs. L. D. Marshall, Winchester, Va.
West Virginia.—T. E. Bowen, Newburg, W. Va.
Wisconsin Tract Society—Geo. M. Brown, Sec., 865 Fifth St.,
Milwaukee, Wis.