FROM the report of the Inter-Seminary Missionary Alliance, held last October at Princeton, N. J., we gather the following:—
“As I sat in the gallery of the large church and looked upon the young men filling the floor below me—not one gray head amongst them—my mind was kindled by the spectacle. No material interest had summoned them; no civil or military crisis was exacting a sacrifice; no personal ambition clamored for office or authority, but silent, absorbed, decorous, they sat, listening with eager countenances to the papers read, as though each felt individually addressed by them; one faith seemed to claim them; one hope to animate them; one idea to fill their minds; one work to draw them one to another, in the tie of a common brotherhood, and that work, the salvation of the perishing. As I gazed at these perhaps five hundred men, from all sections of the country, and a number of different churches, enlisted in the dew of their youth in the service of an unseen Master, with utter abnegation of worldly plans, and with aspirations for that “recompense of reward” which is attained on the other side of the grave, something of the supernatural gathered about me, and a sense of a loving presence brooded over the consecrated assembly.
“Central Africa was the subject of one paper, and it being brim full of exciting statistics seemed to inspire the speech of the whole assembly, which, this being the last great day of the feast, was the largest yet. A number of foreign missionaries seized the occasion, as well they might, to plead for the cause, to encourage the young men to enlist, and to testify to the fullness of the reward vouchsafed to the faithful missionary even in this life. Dr. Gerald Dale, from Syria, called forth a special interest. Besides him were brethren from China, India, Africa, Burmah, and other lands. . . . They were men, who, by years of missionary life—some as many as thirty years—had won the right to command our trust in their judgment and belief in their statements. They scouted indignantly the arguments so often presented by anxious and reluctant friends, to the youth agitating the question of the foreign field, that by going he would throw his life away. They would do anything but that, they assured them; for among the heathen there would be opened to them varied avenues of usefulness, unceasing demands for every mental accomplishment, and continual occasions for the development of the very highest intellectual power.
“They would discover too that God would bestow rich blessings not recited upon their commission, or held out in the hour of their sacrifice. And that amid the labors and self-denials, the dangers and disappointments, and wearisome waitings for a show of results, they yet had much to comfort, to inspire, to support, and at last everything to be grateful for in that171glad sense of duty fulfilled, and that solid satisfaction in their work which they would not barter for all the awards of earthly fame or treasure. It was a convincing and moving scene, that of these scarred and furrowed veterans pressing eagerly forward to recommend the service and gain new recruits for the Master.” “They declared it a privilege, not a mere duty, to go to this work among the heathen. ‘Christ calls for volunteers. It is Christlike to go, as he went, to the despised and neglected.’”
“The hardness of the labor and slowness of results, which are sometimes encountered, should be obstacles to no one. Mr. Wilder worked five years in India for his first convert; Judson, six or seven years for his first. One society in Bombay spent twenty years, and another in South Africa thirty years, for the first convert. Slow work, surely, yet the results are great. The whole world is not the value of a single soul. And where the point has entered, though by tedious process, now the whole wedge may easily be driven, if there were only workers enough to deal the blows. True, in some people, the building of sturdy Christian character can be the result only of generations of training. Yet the work is the Lord’s; and the joy is far above discouragements.
“Of the whole mission field, however, results are very favorable. While the per cent. gained during the year 1881-82 in all Protestant Christendom may be represented by 1.21, the gain in all mission fields was 7.64; and in the year 1882-83 the gain per cent. in missions was sometimes as great as in all Protestant countries, and that, too, with their churches, Sunday-schools, and various religious influences, which the missions are without. Do missions pay? Is the work devoid of encouragement? Truly it is more encouraging than cultivating much of the sterile soil in our New England villages, to which many are consigned.
“On the present hangs the future. As each of us answers the question, ‘Shall I be a missionary?’ so will the future be shaped not of us only, but of all who now sit in darkness to whom we individually might go with the light of the gospel. The missionary outlook depends upon our own inlook. The question is not, Who will go? or, Will you go? but, Shall I go? Older heads of experience and wisdom, acquainted both with us individually and with the needs at home and abroad, may give counsel and help us decide, but after all, final decision is personal, individual. Dr. Charles Hodge once said to a gathering of students, when the same subject was under discussion, ‘I wonder you don’t all go.’ The foreign field becomes a missionary’s native land. He regrets and repines for nothing unless it be, if necessity arise, that he must leave the place of his adoption for the land that gave him birth. Testimony to this statement was given by many.
“R. G. Wilder, whose white locks had been bleached under India’s sun, rejoiced in thirty years of service and wished for more to give, with strength of body, for their privileges. R. M. Luther had come from Burmah because the seeds of fever had fastened upon his system and could not be shaken off. He called himself a failure; but declared it better to go and fail than not to go at all. No trial to him, not even the near and threatening approach of death, had been so bitter as the necessity of his return. Another eager to rejoin his station in China was remaining in this country only for the recovery of his wife’s health. The greatest happiness of his life had come to G. F. Dale by his being a missionary in Syria. . . . Scattered through the assembly were students of different nationalities. The seminary at Princeton furnished a Hindoo—a high caste Burman; Yale gave a Choctaw; Boston Seminary contributed several of our own American born negroes; Lincoln University sent a native African. There was a Japanese also, and a Jew.”
Italy.
By D. T. Bourdeau
I HAVE now spoken forty times at the points mentioned in my last report, which was the headquarters of the ancient Waldenses. Thirty persons were present at our meeting last Sabbath, which was the first held in our hall at Torre Pellice. Nearly one-half of those present promised to keep the Lord's Sabbath, and move forward in the work of reform. One of these is the publisher of the only weekly paper in the town. He is about preparing a series of articles for his paper, which will give his reasons for keeping the Sabbath. We are much encouraged as we see the providence of God opening the way before us, and feel to make even greater efforts for the spread of the last message of mercy.
D. T. BOURDEAU.
Torre Pellice, Feb. 12, 1885.
San Diego County, Cal.
By H. A. St. John
THURSDAY, Feb. 5, I went to Cottonwood Valley, about thirty-four miles southeast of the city of San Diego, to visit Brother B. R. Sheckler's family. Had Bible-class and preaching in their house on the Sabbath day. There were three persons present besides the family. A Mr. Troy, who has recently become deeply interested in the truth by reading, was with us. He is now keeping the Sabbath.
Early Sunday morning we went about seven miles in a southeasterly direction to an elevated valley on the Mexican line, called the Potrero. The road was very mountainous, and the scenery grand. Enough people live at Potrero to form one school district. They have a post-office. Seldom does a minister of any order visit them. Our missionary efforts have reached them and some have learned much of present truth. At 11 A. M., almost the entire settlement assembled in their school-house. I hung up my charts and addressed them for about one hour and a half upon the subjects of the Sabbath and second advent. Never did I speak to a more attentive audience. One lady promised to obey. I believe the time near when others in the Potrero will obey the commandments of God and the faith of Jesus. Sister Howard will look after this interest. I returned to Brother Sheckler's in the evening. This brother and his family are the sole occupants of the valley in which they live; nearest neighbor, three miles over the mountains. Sister Sheckler receives and mails fifty copies of the SIGNS OF THE TIMES each week. Thus from their lonely, mountain-begirt home the rays of heavenly light are radiating. I returned to National City, Monday, much pleased with my trip and visit. I expect the Lord will gather those precious jewels into his soon coming kingdom.
Wednesday, Feb. 11, Brother John B. Judson took me to his home in San Pasqual Valley, northeast of San Diego about thirty-five miles. Quite a company of Sabbath-keepers reside in this beautiful valley, and a few in Bear Valley, twelve miles away. Their Sabbath-school and meetings are held in their school-house. I remained here till Feb. 24, visiting Bear Valley in the meantime and speaking once. Our meetings with the San Pasqual church were deeply interesting, specially the last three days. The Lord came very near to us all as we humbled ourselves and sought him with tearful repentance. We will not soon forget the deep moving of the Spirit of God in our midst. Backsliders and sinners repented, and sought our heavenly Father's mercy with deep contrition. Five persons were baptized; three of these, Brother and Sister Spear and Sister Lizzie Judson, were already members of the church. The other two were Abel M. Striplin and Edwin McKibbin, both young men of excellent repute in the community. We expect these dear young men to become valiant soldiers for Jesus. We left the church in San Pasqual rejoicing with tears. We feel a strong attachment and deep love for them, and hope to ever hear that their pathway grows brighter.
H. A. ST. JOHN.
Los Angeles, Cal., Feb. 27, 1885.
The Gospel Preached in All the World
"AND this gospel of the kingdom shall be preached in all the world for a witness."
"Exploits."
THERE is a very suggestive passage of Scripture (Dan. 9:32) in which this word occurs. "The people that do know their God shall be strong and do exploits." There is an idea that it is only in times of violent persecution that martyrs are developed; and that an "exploit" is an action which is characterized by some splendid display of physical courage, or some heroic manifestation of faithfulness, such as is seen in the life of some Daniel, Samson, David, or Stephen. But is not this a mistaken idea? It is true that the sword is not now invoked by some infidel or apostate power against the church of God, nor do men and women now have to confess Christ with the certainty of bonds and imprisonment awaiting them, or even scourgings and cruel mockings. But are there no other circumstances surrounding the Christian life which give opportunity for exploits on the part of the true disciple?
It is said that in the first ages of Christianity Satan sought to destroy the church by persecution, and failed; but that, when he joined the church and began to patronize it with world power, he succeeded in well nigh smothering the life out of it. Is it not largely so now? Our danger does not lie in the fact that our lives are put in jeopardy every day; but it does lie in the way of false doctrine, in a corrupting alliance of the church with the world, in an easy, albeit respectable indulgence of the unrenewed nature yet within us. The church and the world have become wedded. Their lines, which at first crossed each other at the perpendicular, have now well nigh coalesced into parallels. Doctrine is toned down to meet the requirements of a skeptical age, and the life of Christ in the person of his disciples has been largely accommodated to the demands of the worldly patrons of the church. Is there no opportunity for exploits here? We do not mean with the sword or with the ox-goad, as in Shamgar's hand, nor in a lion's den or furnace of fire, as in the case of Daniel and the Hebrew children; but in a quiet, but none the less heroic, determination to keep ourselves unspotted from the world; to maintain a pure spiritual doctrine and life which shall stand out in contrast to the easy-going, careless, worldly thing that passes current for Christianity with the church, but which the world itself detects, and, while well pleased with it, despises and brands as hypocrisy.
Is there no opportunity for some Christian men to do exploits in stemming the tide of greed and lust for gold and world power which seems to possess all mankind, both in and out of the church? We do not say that there are none such; but they are few in number in comparison with the many who are swept away in the strong current of the times in which we live. It is undoubtedly considered an exploit for a man so to manage his business as to amass a fortune of millions in a few years; and he is heralded as a marvel and published as a philanthropist, if, out of these millions, a few thousands find their way into some channel of benevolence. Might it not have been a greater exploit, and one that would have found a record in God's book of remembrance, if he had had the courage not to have massed those millions by the questionable methods which the church, half asleep, has winked at as she has dozed? Is there no opportunity for a Christian mother to do an exploit by refusing to be dictated to by the ungodly world in the matter of the way in which her children shall be educated and trained for the world? Is there no opportunity for a young man to do an exploit, as did Daniel, in refusing to eat the king's meat, or to give up his prayer, three times a day, in his chamber, with his windows opened toward Jerusalem? Is there no opportunity for a multitude of Christian men and women of time and means to do exploits, by giving themselves to some quiet, personal work for the Lord, among the poor and lowly, the destitute and friendless, rather than idling and dawdling away their time in the drawing-rooms of the fashionable world? Is there no opportunity for some of our large and small churches to do exploits in the way of a consistent and vigorous prosecution of the work of the Lord in a church too largely at ease?
There are one hundred, if not five hundred, agents of the devil at work every day and night to allure young men into the ways of vice and wickedness, where there is one Christian to draw them aside from the pathway that goes down to hell. Is there not an opportunity for our Christian young men to do exploits in this direction? We see many young men coming into the house of God Sabbath after Sabbath alone, when each one might be accompanied by one, two, or three of their acquaintances, if they were courageous enough to seek them out and confess Christ before them. On the other hand, we may safely venture to say that the unbelievers have been far more successful in carrying (professedly) Christian young men into the theaters and other worse places. To stand alone and apart, if needs be, and maintain a consistent Christian life in this day is, for a young man, as great an exploit as it was for Jonathan to scale the wall with his armor bearer, and put to rout the Philistines. Oh, let us up, and be doing exploits in this day of worldly compromises and lukewarmness!—Independent.
GO WORK TO-DAY.
"Go work to-day," the Master saith.
Waste not thy time repining!
Fill every hour with earnest deeds,
While bright the sun is shining.
What though ye do not see the fruit,
Yet still continue sowing;
For night and day—asleep, awake—
The grain is ever growing.
To-morrow's work may not be yours,
Nor yours the joy of reaping;
"Go work to-day," and leave the seed
Safe in the Master's keeping. —Sel.
Waiting Upon the Lord
"THEY that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength." As our wasted physical energies must be restored by suitable refreshment, so our spiritual powers, exhausted in our conflicts with the world, the flesh, and the devil, need also to be renewed. This new inspiration of strength is not earth-born but comes from God. His Spirit alone can invigorate, strengthen, and renew, and enable us to continue the conflict. It is by communing with God, as Moses did on the mount, that we are lifted above the world, and enabled to endure and overcome. He has erected a throne of grace, where he invites us to audience with him, and where we may make known all our wants and weaknesses, and obtain grace to help in time of need. It is only by waiting upon him, in the way that he himself has appointed, that his helping grace can be obtained. Are you tempted? Are you tried? Are you almost overcome? Wait on God, call upon his name, supplicate his grace, and he will strengthen you with might by his Spirit to do his will. He never disregards the voice of earnest, importunate, pleading prayer. "He giveth power to the faint, and to them that have no might he increaseth strength."— Sel.
Hierarchism, Christianity, and Rationalism
Hierarchism, or the religion of the priest; Christianity, or the religion of God; rationalism, or the religion of man;—such are the three doctrines which in our day divide Christendom. There is no salvation, either for man or society, in hierarchism or in rationalism. Christianity alone can give life to the world; and, unhappily, of the three prevailing systems, it is not that which numbers most followers.—Sel.
The Washerwoman.
"I HAVE half a mind to put this bed-quilt into the wash to-day. It does not really need to go; but I think I will send it down."
"Why will you put it in, Mary, if it does not need to go?" asked her aunt, in her quiet, expressive way.
"Why, aunt, we have but a small wash to-day; so small that Susan will get through by one o'clock at the latest, and I shall have to pay her the same as though she worked till night; so—"
"Stop a moment, dear," said the old lady, gently, "stop a moment and think. Suppose you were in the situation poor Susan is, obliged, you tell me, to toil over the wash-tub six days out of the seven, for the bare necessaries of life; would you not be glad, now and then, to get through before night, to have a few hours of daylight to labor for yourself and family; or, better still, a few hours to rest? It is a hard way for a woman to earn a living; grudge not the poor creature an easy day. This is the fourth day in succession she has risen by candle light and plodded through the cold here and there to her customers' houses, and toiled away existence. Let her go home at noon if she gets through; who knows but she may have come from the sick-bed of some loved one, and she counts the hours, yes, the minutes, till she can return, fearing that she may be one minute too late? Put the quilt back on the bed, and sit down here while I tell you what one poor washerwoman endured, because her employer did as you would to make out the wash." And the old lady took off her glasses and wiped away the tears that for some cause had gathered in her aged eyes, and then with a tremulous voice related the promised story:—
"There never was a more blithesome bridal than that of Ada R. None ever had higher hopes, more blissful anticipations. Wedding the man of her choice, one of whom any woman might be proud, few, indeed, had a sunnier life in prospect than she had.
"For ten years there fell no shadow on her path. Her home was one of beauty and rare comfort; her husband the same kind, gentle, loving man as in the days of courtship, winning laurels every year in his profession, adding new comforts to his home, and new joys to his fireside. And besides these blessings, God had given another; a little crib stood by the bedside, its tenant a golden-haired baby-boy, the image of its noble father, and dearer than aught else that earth could offer.
"But I must not dwell on those happy days; my story has to do with other ones. It was with Ada and her husband as it has often been with others,—just when the cup was sweetest, it was dashed away. A series of misfortunes and reverses occurred with startling rapidity, and swept away from them everything but love and their babe. Spared to each other and to that, they bore a brave heart, and in a distant city began a new fortune. Well and strongly did they struggle, and at length began once more to see the sunlight of prosperity shine upon their home. But a little while it stayed, and then the shadows fell. The husband sickened, and lay for many a month upon a weary couch, languishing, not only with mental and bodily pain, but often for food and medicines. All that she could do, the wife performed with a faithful hand. She went from one thing to another, till, at length, she who had worn a satin dress upon her bridal day, toiled at the wash-tub for the scantiest living.
"In a dreary winter, long before light, she would rise morning after morning, and labor for the dear ones of her lowly home. Often she had to set off through the cold, deep snow, and grope her way to kitchens, which were sometimes smoky and gloomy, and toil there at rubbing, rinsing, starching, not infrequently wading knee-deep in the drifts to hang out the clothes, that froze even before she had fastened them to the line. And when night came, with her scanty earnings, she would again grope through the cold and snow to her oftentimes fireless and lightless home; for her husband was too sick, much of the time, even to tend the fire or strike a light. And, oh, with what a shivering heart she would draw near, fearing ever she would be too late! For six weeks, at one time, she never saw the face of her husband or her child save by lamplight, except on the Sabbath. How glad she would have been to have had, now and then, a small washing gathered for her!
"One dark winter morning, as she was preparing the frugal breakfast and getting everything ready before she left, her husband called her to the bedside.
"‘Ada,’ he said, in almost a whisper, ‘I want you to come home early to-night; be here before the light goes; do, Ada.’"
"‘I’ll try,’ she answered with a choked utterance."
"‘I have a strange desire to see your face by daylight; to-day is Friday; I have not seen it since Sabbath. I must look upon it once again.’"
"‘Do you feel worse?’ she asked, anxiously, feeling his pulse as she spoke."
"‘No, no, I think not; but I do want to see your face once more by sunlight. I cannot wait till Sabbath.’"
"Gladly would she have tarried by his bedside till the sunlight had stolen through their little window; but it might not be. Money was needed, and she must go forth to labor. She reached the kitchen of her employer, and with a troubled look waited for the basket to be brought. A smile played over her wan face as she assorted its contents. She could get through easily by two o'clock; yes, and if she hurried, perhaps by one. Love and anxiety lent new strength to her weary arms; and five minutes after the clock struck one she hung the last garment on the line, and was just emptying her tubs, when the mistress came in with two bed-quilts, saying:—"
"‘As you have so small a wash to-day, Ada, I think you may do these yet.’" After the mistress had turned her back; a cry of agony, wrung from the deepest fountain of the washerwoman's heart, gushed to her lips. Smothering it as best she could, she set to work again, and rubbed, rinsed, and hung out. It was half-past three when she started for home, an hour too late! and the aged narrator sobbed.
"‘An hour too late,’" she continued, after a long pause. "‘Her husband was dying; yes, almost gone! He had strength given him to whisper a few words to his half-frantic wife, to tell her how he had longed to look upon her face; that he could not see her then, as he lay in the shadow of death. One hour she pillowed his head upon her suffering heart; and then—he was at rest!’"
"Mary, Mary dear," and there was a soul-touching emphasis in the aged woman's words, "be kind to your washerwoman; instead of striving to make her day's work as long as may be, shorten it, lighten it. Few women will go out to wash daily, unless their needs are pressing. No woman on her bridal day expects to labor in that way; and be sure, my niece, if she is constrained to do so, it is the last resort. That poor woman, laboring now so hard for you, has not always been a washerwoman. She has seen better days. She has passed through terrible trials too. I can read her story in her sad, pale face. Be kind to her; pay her what she asks, and let her go home as early as she can."
"You have finished in good time to-day, Susan," said Mrs. M. as the washerwoman entered the pleasant room to get the money she had earned.
"Yes, ma'am, I have; and my heart is relieved of a heavy load, too. I was afraid I should be kept till night, and I am needed at home."
"Is there sickness?" inquired the old aunt kindly.
Tears gushed to the woman's eyes as she answered:—
"Ah, ma'am, I left my baby most dead this morning; he will be quite so to-morrow. I know it, I have seen it too many times; and none but a child of nine years to attend him. Oh, I must go, and quickly." And grasping the money she had toiled for while her babe was dying, she hurried to the dreary home.
Shortly after, they followed her—the young wife who had scarcely known a sorrow, and the aged matron whose hair was white with trouble. Together they went to the dreary home of the drunkard's wife, the drunkard's babes. She was not too late. The little dying boy knew his mother. At midnight he died, and then kind hands took from the sorrowing mother the breathless form, closed the bright eyes, straightened the tiny limbs, bathed the cold clay, and folded above it the pure white shroud; yes, and did more—they gave what the poor so seldom have, time to weep.
"Oh, aunt!" said Mrs. M., with tears in her eyes, "if my heart blesses you, how much more must poor Susan's! Had it not been for you she would have been too late. This was a sad yet holy lesson. I shall never forget it. But, aunt, was the story you told me a true one—all true, I mean?"
"The reality of that story whitened this head when it had seen but thirty summers; and the memory of it has been one of my keenest sorrows. It is not strange that I should pity the poor washerwoman."—Sel.
The Home Circle.
BE A WOMAN.
Oft I've heard a gentle mother,
As the twilight hours began,
Pleading with a son on duty,
Urging him to be a man.
But unto her blue-eyed daughter,
Though with love's words quite as ready,
Points she out the other duty—
"Strive, my dear, to be a lady."
What's a lady? Is it something
Made of hoops and silks and airs
Used to decorate the parlor
Like the fancy rugs and chairs?
Is it one that wastes on novels
Every feeling that is human?
If 'tis this to be a lady,
'Tis not this to be a woman.
Mother then, unto your daughter
Speak of something higher far
Than to be mere fashion's lady—
"Woman" is the brightest star.
If you, in your strong affection,
Urge your son to be a true man,
Urge your daughter no less strongly
To arise and be a woman.
Yes a woman! brightest model
Of that high and perfect beauty,
Where the mind and soul and body
Blend to work out life's great duty.
Be a woman, naught is higher
On the gilded crest of fame;
On the catalogue of virtue
There's no brighter, holier name.
—Sel.
A Lesson Against Gossip
An old saint, Dorotheus by name, is said to have taught his disciples thus: "If, on entering the private room of your brother, where he performs his devotions, you find everything in disorder, conclude that he is so absorbed in God that he takes no thought about things external; if, on the contrary, you find everything in admirable order, be convinced that his interior life is as well conducted as his external habitation." Much small gossip can be stopped thus.
A Wise Son Hears Instruction
"A WISE son heareth his father's instruction; but a scorner heareth not rebuke." Prov. 13:1.
Don't Sell to Them.
ONE day a young man entered the bar room of a village tavern and called for a drink. "No," said the landlord, "you have had the delirium tremens once, and I cannot sell to you any more."
He stepped aside to make room for a couple of young men who had just entered, and the landlord waited on them very politely. The other stood by silent and sullen, and when they had finished, he walked up to the landlord and addressed him as follows:—
"Six years ago, at their age, I stood where those young men are now. I was a man with fair prospects. Now, at the age of twenty-eight, I am a wreck, body and mind. You led me to drink. In this room I formed the habit that has been my ruin. Now sell me a few more glasses and your work will be done. I shall soon be out of the way; there is no hope for me. But they can be saved. Do not sell it to them. Sell it to me, and let me die, and let the world be rid of me; but for Heaven's sake, sell no more to them!"—Ex.
Don't Parade Your Troubles.
Ordinarily we receive as good treatment as we deserve. At all events, there are no good results from a constant repetition of troubles, often imaginary. Many men greatly weaken their influence by the parade on all occasions of the treatment they have received at other times in other places. It puts ammunition into the hands of the enemy. People will be disposed to think, where there is so much smoke there must be some fire. Instead of creating sympathy, which at best under such circumstances can do us no good, it creates often a feeling of suspicion. We have known ministers to greatly injure their usefulness, upon going into a new field of labor, by at once beginning the recital of the serious troubles through which they had just passed in their last charge. One result of this, often, is the speedy repetition of the same experience in the new field of labor. We are under no obligation to tell men our weak points, as these will become apparent soon enough to those with whom we come in daily contact. It is good advice in all spheres of life when we exhort them to keep their troubles to themselves. There is but one to whom we can come in perfect safety, sure that he will never misunderstand us, and will always grant relief. "Cast thy burden upon the Lord, and he shall sustain thee."—Journal and Messenger.
THE SONG OF THE GOSSIP.
By Harper's Young People
One old maid,
And another old maid,
And another old maid—that's three—
And they were a gossiping, I'm afraid,
As they sat sipping their tea.
They talked of this,
And they talked of that,
In the usual gossiping way,
Until every one was as black as your hat,
And the only white ones were they.
One old maid,
And another old maid—
For the third had gone into the street—
Who talked in a way of that third old maid
Which would never do to repeat.
And now but one
Dame sat all alone—
For the others were both away.
"I've never yet met," she said, with a groan,
"Such scandalous takers as they."
"Alas! and alack!
We're all of a pack!
For no matter how we walk,
Or what folks say to our face, our back
Is sure to breed gossip and talk."
—Harper's Young People.
The Baobab Tree.
THE queerest of trees must be the baobab, or monkey bread. It grows to the height of forty feet, but its girth is entirely out of proportion to its height, some trees being thirty feet in diameter. An old baobab in Africa is then more like a whole forest than a single tree. Their age is incalculable. Humboldt considers them as "the oldest living organic monuments of our planet." Some trees are believed to be 5,000 years old. You can cut a good-sized room into the trunk of a baobab, with comfortable accommodations for thirty men, and the tree lives on and flourishes. It produces a fruit about a foot long, which is edible. As an example of slow growth in England, a baobab at Kew, though more than eighty years old, has only attained a height of four and a half feet. A kindred species to the African baobab grows in Australia. They have been measured, being thirty feet high, with a girth of eighty-five feet.
THAT man who does not know those things which are of necessity for him to know, is but an ignorant man, whatever he may know besides.—Archbishop Tillotson.
Health and Temperance.
By Neal Dow
Where Is the Right of It?
SOME time ago I saw it proclaimed in the press, by authority of a prominent and influential clergyman, that he did not favor total abstinence from alcoholic drinks, but, on the contrary, that he approved their habitual use. It seems to me there must be a right and a wrong to this matter, and it ought not to be difficult to find.
Some time ago a stranger to me and I were the only occupants of a carriage on an English railway. The gentleman knew me; he was a rector of the English Church. He commenced a conversation brusquely by asking: "Mr. Dow, do you (temperance people) hold that to drink a glass of wine is a sin for us?" "We say nothing of that; but this is our view: An intelligent man must know something of the sin, shame, crime, and horror which in this country come from intemperance. He must know that intemperance comes from the drinking habits of society. He must know, also, that these are upheld and perpetuated by the example and influence of the better classes of the people. For a man who knows all this to lend the influence of his example to uphold the customs whence all this mischief comes, is a mortal sin. We hold it to be a primary Christain duty so to live that if all the world should follow our example no harm could come from it. If our example of total abstinence should be adopted by all the world, the sin, shame, crime, and infinite misery coming from intemperance would cease in a day, and the world would be relieved of nine-tenths of the wretchedness by which it is now cursed." The rector made no reply.—Hon. Neal Dow, in New York Independent.
The Liquor Traffic and Crime.
OUR antagonism to strong drink is not a mere sentiment or theory; it is based on dark, dreadful, undeniable facts. What are the facts? The lowest estimate of the actual cost of rum and its companion drinks in the United States is seven hundred million dollars annually. This is two million a day. This is the cost of this deadly drink of infatuated human beings. What is the result of this incredible expenditure of hard earnings? As follows:—
If all the victims were gathered before our eyes we should see a thousand funerals a week from their ranks. Placed in a procession five abreast, the drunkards of America would form an army one hundred miles long, with a suicide occurring in every mile. Every hour of the night the heavens are lighted with the incendiary torch of the drunkard. Every hour of the day the earth is stained with the blood of the drunken assassins. See the great army of inebriates five hundred thousand strong marching on to sure and swift destruction, filing off rapidly into poor-houses, prisons, up to the scaffold and down to hell! The sixty thousand who go down to the grave every year represent a quarter of a million wives and children overwhelmed with shame, sorrow and poverty.—Presbyterian Banner.
Sleep and Ruin.
I THINK the intellectual and moral connections of sleeping have not been sufficiently appreciated. Men and boys have been praised for "burning the midnight oil." Now, this "midnight oil" is a delusion and a snare. The student who is fast asleep at eleven o'clock every night, and wide awake at seven o'clock every morning, is going to surpass another student of the same intellectual ability, who goes to bed after twelve and rises before five. In sleep, the plate on which the picture is to be taken is receiving its chemical preparation; and it is plain that that which is the best prepared will take the best picture.
Men who are the fastest asleep when they are asleep, are the widest awake when they are awake. Great workers must be great resters. Every man who has clerks in his employ ought to know what their sleeping habits are. The young man that is up till two, three, and four o'clock in the morning, and must put in his appearance at the bank or store at nine or ten o'clock and work all day, cannot repeat this process many days without a certain shakiness coming into his system, which he will endeavor to steady by some delusive stimulus. It is in this way that many a young man begins his course to ruin. He need not necessarily have been in bad company. He has lost his sleep, and is losing his strength and grace.
Here is the outline of the history of a suicide within my own knowledge. A young man, a stranger in New York, in a good situation, in a large boarding-house, has pleasant young companions; spends his evenings out; goes to midnight parties; his nerves become disturbed, then a little drink; a little mistake in business, another drink; reproof from employer, more drink; more mistakes; loss of situation; no help from frivolous companions; money all gone; then credit all gone; then turned out of the boarding-house; wandering in the street; mortification; desperation; shoots himself.—Hall's Journal of Health.
Weary Traveler
Weary Traveler—"A three of whisky, please."
Landlady—"That'll be saxpince, if ye plase."
Weary Traveler—"What! sixpence for a three-penn'orth."
Landlady—"Yes, sir. Ye ken it's Sawbath, and we want to discontenance Sawbath drinking."—Sel.
How to Smoke a Cigar.
Two CENTURIES ago smoking schools were as common in London as riding and swimming schools are at the present day. Precise instruction, and a thorough course of training in the use of the filthy weed, were considered essential to the accomplishment of the English dude of those days.
The absence of such facilities at the present day leads a country doctor to inquire "how to smoke a cigar," to which the editor of a Chicago paper makes the following reply: "Our knowledge is somewhat limited, but we should think the cigar ought to be hung up in the smoke-house, and a fire built under it."—Good Health.