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Signs of the Times, Vol. 10, No. 4.

The Signs of the Times
Earlier text: A Metaphor

The Missionary.

State Quarterly Meeting.

The quarterly session of the California Tract and Missionary Society was held at Healdsburg, Jan. 4, at 3 P. M., the Vice-President presiding. Prayer was offered by Eld. Corliss. A summary of work for the quarter ending Oct. 1, was read. A Committee on Resolutions, consisting of E. J. Waggoner, W. C. White, and Wm. Ings, was appointed.
The report of ship missionary work was read by H. C. Palmer. Bro. Brorsen related items of interest in regard to that branch of the work. A file of the SIGNS is placed on each steamer of the different lines; these are renewed each trip. Out of sixteen steamers visited, only one refused to accept the papers. Publications are placed on ships going to every part of the world; through this means a wide-spread interest is aroused. As the result of the establishment of a reading-room, sixteen have decided to observe the Sabbath.
Wm. Ings referred to several interesting incidents that have come to his notice,—one of a captain who has strictly kept the Sabbath for two years.
Sr. E. G. White was present, and, in view of the shortness of time in which we will be permitted to work, urged all to activity, to the putting away of worldliness, and the cultivating a spirit of humility and meekness,—that the world may see we really believe what we teach.
A responsibility rests upon each church, however small. This work is to go forward till the whole world is warned. Although we may not always see the fruit of our labor, we should not become discouraged.
At 3 P. M., Jan. 10, the second meeting was held. Prayer by Eld. Waggoner. The minutes of the last meeting were read and accepted, after which the report of labor for the quarter just closed was read as follows:—
Missionaries No. of Members Reports Returned Members Added Members Dismissed Missionary Visits Letters Written Signs Taken in Clubs Review Signs Good Health Instructor Other Periodicals
No. 1 166 58 28 6 153 448 310 6 41 6 1 …
No. 2 94 37 2 3 86 156 210 … 2 … … …
No. 3 80 44 2 … 43 101 156 … 1 … … …
No. 4 27 3 … … 13 201 50 … … … … …
No. 5 98 39 … 7 6 83 135 25 70 … 74 …
No. 6 10 … … … 395 557 480 … 172 … … …
No. 7 124 38 2 4 395 207 480 … 172 … … …
No. 8 96 45 7 2 221 88 180 2 61 4 … 4
No. 9 20 … … 1 23 66 64 … 3 … … …
No. 10 30 18 … … 23 66 64 … 3 … … …
Ships … … … … … … … … … … … …
Total. 745 282 36 23 1313 1390 1670 33 359 10 75 4
Missionaries Pages Tracts and Pamphlets Periodicals Membership and Donations Sales Periodicals Total
No. 1 68626 4030 $81.50 $16.35 $91.85 $189.70
No. 2 17052 2730 11.55 8.80 44.76 65.11
No. 3 5137 2028 51.80 1.75 53.22 106.77
No. 4 3481 650 … … … 63.00
No. 5 20547 1755 11.60 5.95 45.45 63.00
No. 6 … … … … … …
No. 7 17049 6219 85.65 40 175.85 211.90
No. 8 44057 2340 102.05 5.00 68.00 175.05
No. 9 … 455 … … … …
No. 10 2622 832 8.40 2.50 23.12 34.02
Ships. 49813 4589 93.70 34.15 … 127.85
Total. 228877 25628 $396.25 $74.90 $502.25 $973.40
This report showed the following increase over that of the previous quarter: Members added, 13; reports returned, 7; missionary visits, 342; letters written, 171; subscribers to Review, 13; SIGNS, 89; Instructor, 52; pages distributed, 59,491; periodicals, 4,621.
The committee submitted the following resolutions:—
WHEREAS, The International Society has recommended that “Sketches from the Life of Paul,” “The United States in Prophecy,” and “The Sanctuary,” be placed in those libraries having the ten volumes; and that all these volumes, in their best binding, be placed in the principal libraries of our large cities, which have not the ten books; and has offered to furnish these volumes to the State Societies for this purpose, at one-fourth the retail price; therefore,
Resolved (1), That we accept the above liberal offer, and that we consider it to be our duty to supply the libraries within the boundaries of our Society.
WHEREAS, The SIGNS and Good Health, placed in reading-rooms, find many interested readers, and in many cases are highly valued by the managers of the rooms; therefore,
Resolved (2), That these periodicals be placed in all the libraries and reading-rooms where they will be properly cared for.
Resolved (3), That the above-mentioned books and papers be furnished at the expense of the State Society.
WHEREAS, There are many new readers, whose subscription to our papers is now expiring, who, on account of negligence, or the expense of the papers, will not renew their subscription unless solicited to do so by some one interested in the work; therefore,
Resolved (4), That we call for volunteers, and that we appoint agents in every church and neighborhood where our papers are taken, to canvass for renewals, and for new subscriptions; also
Resolved (5), That we recommend that agents canvassing for renewals of subscriptions to our periodicals, take with them “Sunshine at Home” and some of our other juvenile books, and that they take orders for these at the same time.
Resolved (6), That we again call attention to the following excellent plan of labor recommended at the late General Conference:—
“WHEREAS, There are many persons who, in connection with other business, can secure short-term subscriptions for the SIGNS, but who are unable to revisit and carry forward the work; therefore,
“Resolved, That we recommend such to do all they can, placing their lists in the hands of the State Secretary, or some vigilant missionary society, who will send the papers, and follow up the work by correspondence.”
WHEREAS, In the case of Humboldt County, we have seen the good results of systematic and continued labor put forth in one locality, by the members of a single society,
Resolved (7), That we deem it a good plan for each local society to select some special territory, to which to mail SIGNS, and to give it a thorough canvass before leaving it for another field.
WHEREAS, There has been considerable emigration from the United States to Mexico; and,
WHEREAS, By position that country is more closely related to California than to any other State; therefore,
Resolved (8), That we urge our local societies to immediately occupy this new field, and to make thorough work of sending the truth to all the English-speaking people of Mexico.
WHEREAS, The islands of the Pacific Ocean present a vast, unoccupied field, which must very soon receive the light of the Third Angel’s Message,
Resolved (9), That we urge our T. and M. workers to anticipate and prepare the way for the living messenger, by a thorough and judicious canvass of these islands with the SIGNS OF THE TIMES.
Resolved (10), That we also urge upon our missionary laborers the importance of working up an interest in the Territories of Idaho, Utah, Arizona, and New Mexico, which are rapidly being settled by a class of persons who are usually susceptible to the influence of the truth.
Resolved (11), That in view of the great amount of work opening up before us, as indicated in the three preceding resolutions, we earnestly request all our societies to prepare for more vigorous work, by immediately renewing their clubs of SIGNS, and increasing them whenever it is possible to do so.
These resolutions were acted upon separately, and unanimously adopted. The first was commented upon by W. C. White, Vice-President of the International Society, and others. Books placed in public libraries are read with interest, and are the means of accomplishing much good.

Dr. Judson's Account of His Conversion to the Baptist Faith.

The following is from Dr. Judson's own account of his conversion to the faith of the Baptists. It is copied from Wayland's Life of Judson. It shows a love of the truth of God's word, and an unbending integrity, a determination to walk in the path of duty without regard to worldly consequences, which are, alas, too seldom seen in these days. The Baptists commend this spirit in Judson; would that they would follow his example when other reforms and duties are presented from the word of God.
“It was on board the vessel, in prospect of my future life among the heathen, that I was led to investigate this important subject. I was going forth to proclaim the glad news of salvation through Jesus Christ. I hoped that my ministrations would be blessed to the conversion of souls. In that case, I felt that I should have no hesitation concerning my duty to the converts, it being plainly commanded in Scripture that such are to be baptized, and received into church fellowship. But how, thought I, am I to treat the unconverted children and domestics of the converts? Are they to be considered members of the church of Christ by virtue of the conversion of the head of the family, or not? If they are, ought I not to treat them as such? After they are baptized, can I consistently set them aside, as aliens from the commonwealth of Israel, until they are readmitted? If they are not to be considered members of the church, can I consistently administer to them the initiating ordinance of the church?
“If I adopt the Abrahamic covenant, and consider the Christian Church a continuation of the Abrahamic or Jewish system, I must adopt the former part of the alternative. I must consider the children and domestics of professors as members of the church, and treat them accordingly. Abraham, according to the terms of the covenant which God made with him, circumcised not only his own sons, but all the males that were born in his house, or bought with money. His male descendants, in the line of Isaac and Jacob, were entitled to the same ordinance, by virtue of natural descent, and, together with their domestics, composed the ancient church, and were entitled to all its privileges. This is put beyond a doubt by the single fact that, in the Abrahamic community, or the society of Israel, there was no separate party calling themselves, by way of distinction, the church, and saying to others, who were equally circumcised with themselves, Stand by; touch not the passover; we are holier than you. No. All the members of the community or nation were of course members of the church. They were entitled to church membership by birth or purchase. Their church membership was recognized, or they were initiated into the church by circumcision; and in subsequent life they partook of the passover, which was the standing sacrament of the church, analogous to the Lord's Supper, and enjoyed all the rights and privileges of the church, unless they were excommunicated, or, in Scriptural language; ‘cut off from the people.’
“Now, let me be consistent. Since I am exhorted to walk in the steps of father Abraham, let me follow him with the same faithfulness which procured him eminent praise. Let me not adopt some parts of his covenant, and reject others, as suits my own convenience, or accords with the notions in which I have been educated. Nor let me complain for want of example and prescription. Behold the established church of England. She proves herself, in many respects, a worthy daughter of the Abrahamic or Jewish Church. She receives into her charitable bosom all the descendants of professors, and all those who, though not of her seed, belong to the families of professors; and these collectively come, in process of time, to comprise the whole nation. This is truly Abrahamic. This is the very system which the ancestors of the Jewish race, and their succeeding rulers and priests, uniformly maintained. And if I claim an interest in the Abrahamic covenant, and consider the Christian Church a continuation of the Jewish, why should I hesitate to prove myself a true child of Abraham, and a consistent Christian, by adopting this system in all its parts, and introducing it among the heathen?
“But I considered again: How does this system accord with the account of the church of Christ given in the New Testament? It appeared to me, from the manner in which this church commenced and was continued, from the character of its members, and, in fine, from its whole economy, so far as detailed in the New Testament, that it was a company consisting of select individuals, men and women, who gave credible evidence of being disciples of Christ; and that it had no regard to natural descent, or accidental connection with the families of professors.”

State Conference Resolutions

The second resolution called forth remarks, showing the favor with which the Good Health is received. Bro. Ings and Bro. Brorsen spoke of the advantage of having these placed in binders.
The fourth resolution was spoken to at some length. The subscribers who obtained the premium last year have not been solicited to renew. This work ought to have been attended to during the month of December, and it requires prompt and energetic efforts now. In answer to the call for volunteers to act as agents, twenty-three responded, and the work in different parts of the State was apportioned to them.
In reference to the seventh resolution, Eld. Israel spoke of the importance of system and thoroughness in the work. The State officers should furnish each society with a sufficient number of names, and these in different territories, thus avoiding the possibility of sending to the same address twice.
Under the eighth resolution, it was suggested that the ship missionary workers get all the information they can in regard to Mexico, and obtain addresses, in order that the truth may be sent there.
The reading of the ninth resolution called forth the remarks that we are indebted to the islands of the Pacific, and that we are providentially favored with facilities to provide for their spiritual interests. (“I am debtor both to the Greeks and to the barbarians; both to the wise and to the unwise.” Rom. 1:14.) Those who are acquainted with these islands speak favorably of them as missionary fields. Success is attending the efforts of one sister who is sending the SIGNS to New Zealand.
God has shown that a paper should be published in Australia, and just as soon as missionaries can be spared, this enterprise should be entered upon.
On considering the tenth resolution, it was decided that on account of the constant immigration, only a small part of the people in these territories can be reached by means of the directories. For this reason it was recommended that colporters enter the fields and obtain addresses.
The eleventh resolution brought to view the vastness of the work. If we are willing to walk out in the opening providence of God, the message will go forward with ten-fold more power.
Very interesting and appropriate remarks were made by Elds. Waggoner, Corliss, Boyd, and others.
W. C. White then offered the following resolution, which was adopted:—
WHEREAS, The Sabbath Sentinel is published to advance the Sabbath cause and expose the fallacies of those who are forwarding the Constitutional Amendment; therefore,
Resolved (12), That we put forth our best efforts to secure subscribers for the Sentinel in all parts of the State.
On motion the meeting adjourned.
M. C. ISRAEL, Vice Pres., ANNA L. INGELS, Ass’t. Sec.

The Duty of Foreign Missions

REV. PHILLIPS BROOKS says: “Some of you are saying in your hearts, ‘There are heathen enough at home. Let us convert them before we go to China.’ That plea we all know, and I think it sounds more cheap and more shameful every year. What can be more shameful than to make the imperfection of our Christianity at home an excuse for not doing our work abroad. It is as shameless as it is shameful. It pleads for exemption and indulgence, on the ground of its own neglect and sin. It is like the murderer of his father asking the judge to have pity upon his orphanhood. Even those who make such a plea feel, I think, how unheroic it is.”

Sin and Covenant-Breaking

THE indulgence of any sin will surely lead to covenant-breaking.

A BIRD'S MINISTRY.

By Margaret J. Preston

From his home in an Eastern bungalow, In sight of the everlasting snow Of the grand Himalayas, row on row,
Thus wrote my friend:—
“I had traveled far From the Afghan towers of Gandahar, Through the sand-white plains of Sinde-Sagar;
“And once, when the daily march was o’er, As tired I sat in my tented door, Hope failed me, as never it failed before.
“In swarming city, at wayside fane, By the Indus bank, on the scorching plain, I had taught,—and my teaching all seemed vain.
“‘No glimmer of light (I sighed) appears; The Moslem’s fate and the Buddhist’s fears Have gloomed their worship this thousand years.
“‘For Christ and his truth I stand alone In the midst of millions; a sand-grain blown Against yon temple of ancient stone
“‘As soon may level it!’ Faith forsook My soul, as I turned on the pile to look: Then rising, my saddened way I took
“To its lofty roof, for the cooler air; I gazed and marveled,—how crumbled were The walls I had deemed so firm and fair!
“For, wedged in a rift of the massive stone, Most plainly rent by its roots alone, A beautiful peepul-tree had grown;
“Whose gradual stress would still expand The crevice, and topple upon the sand The temple, while o’er its wreck should stand
“The tree in its living verdure!—Who Could compass the thought?—The bird that flew Hitherward, dropping a seed that grew,
“Did more to shiver this ancient wall Than earthquake,—war,—simoon,—or all The centuries, in their lapse and fall!
“Then I knelt by the riven granite there, And my soul shook off its weight of care, As my voice rose clear on the tropic air:—
“‘The living seeds I have dropped remain In the cleft; Lord, quicken with dew and rain, Then temple and mosque shall be rent in twain!’”
—Margaret J. Preston, in S. S. Times.

Hurrying Girls into Marriage.

We were sitting on the grass below the school-house—a dozen girls of us—with our books about us, when old Mr. Duzenberry drove past in his square, gray buggy. His maiden daughter, Becky Jane, sat beside him with a basket of eggs in her lap and a jar of apple-butter nicely steadied and kept in place between her feet. In those years we liked only people with pretty faces; a homely face, with irregular features, was very distasteful and repulsive. Young girls generally give free expression to their likes and dislikes, and no sooner had the Duzenberry buggy fairly passed us, than we all began making comments. Bessie Glindon said, “Oh, I’d rather die than be an old maid like Becky Jane! I’d marry Lanky Fisher first.”
At this we shouted with laughter. Lanky was an old widower with six children, two of them deaf and hair-lipped; and he had no trade, but went round splitting clapboards, cleaning wells, husking corn, and doing odd jobs, for farmers. Then we all made remarks, and said funny things which we are glad to have forgotten.
Becky Jane was very homely. Even her pastor said of her, “She is humly—too humly by all odds!”
Bessie’s mother said to her: “I’d be so sorry to see you an old maid, looking like Becky Jane Duzenberry. I want you to get married the first chance, dear, for fear of having you on my hands like an unmarketable piece of goods.”
This was spoken compassionately, and impressed itself upon the mind of the young girl. Is it any wonder that a girl with this repulsive picture held up before her daily, should accept and welcome any escape from such a fate? But this was years and years ago.
Pretty Bessie Glindon! with the words, “This will be your portrait if you do not marry,” constantly sounding in her ears, the result is easily foretold.
One morning at school, Nabby Parsons leaned over, and whispered: “Did you know Bess had a beau last night? One of Ryder’s boys took her home from the bee, and there was a light in their front room for more than an hour after.”
“One of Ryder’s boys.” How indefinite! How he was esteemed could be determined by that way of expressing it. Bessie’s family was one of the best in the neighborhood, and we girls felt as if there wasn’t a boy in our town good enough to be Bessie’s gallant. The Ryder’s could raise better crops than any other farmers, they always got better prices—had better horses, more young cattle, and could get more premiums at the county fairs than all the other farmers put together. When that was said, the whole story was told.
So, for more than two years, “one of Ryder’s boys” escorted Bessie to all the spelling-schools, exhibitions, picnics, fairs, paring-bees, sleigh-rides, singing-schools and night-meetings. And then one golden Sabbath morning as we sat about the church doors under the falling and quaking October leaves, waiting for the folks to gather in from the far-off country homes, reached by grassy, country lanes and by-roads, through laid-down bars and creaking farm-gates—the Glindon carriage, which had once been a capacious stage-coach, drove up, containing old man and mother Glindon, and the two sleek boys in roundabouts and wide, white collars. Where was Bessie? Our little school-mate Bessie, with her fluttering blue ribbons that somehow crept coquettishly out and floated over her shoulders? Bessie, with her white skirts and trim ankles, whom all the boys hurried to lift out, all aglow and a-flutter, as she sailed down and alighted on the green sward under the beautiful church-yard trees? Cousin Meltha Howard slipped up to Mrs. Glindon, and extending her gloved hand, said: “Where under the sun is Bessie! Nothin’ serious I hope, Sister Glindon?”
“Well, no—I can’t say as ther’ is, and I can’t say as ther’ isn’t,” was the vague reply; and then her lower lip wavered about queerly, and she perked up her head and stretched her neck this way and that, and finally fell to dusting her bombazine gown with wonderful zeal.
Just then old Mrs. Whittaker, she that was Anthony Summer’s first wife’s half sister, came round the corner, smelling and chewing at a handful of rank, bristling spearmint, and she stopped suddenly with, “The lawful sakes! Where’s darter Betsy, I wonder!” “She’ll come bimeby,” said her mother, reaching over and helping herself to a sprig of the mint. “Why I’d think the old creeturs, Jack and Fan, ’d hardly traveled without the full load! They’re so used to you and the squire on one seat, and Betsey and the boys on t’other—have been all these years o’ church-goin’—that it must ’pear strange even to the very bosses,” mumbled the good old woman.
Deacon Lathrop always hemmed when it was time for people to come indoors. We all heard him “Ahem!” but just then who should come jilting over the bridge across Dunder Creek, but Bessie Glindon, the bride, and “one of Ryder’s boys”—Elnathan, the rosy, round, robust one—the bridegroom. We were all startled out of our wits. He wore white gloves and a new cravat with a ribbon bow set on in front. He looked as though he felt the responsibility of the married state. He clutched the lines as he drove the old mare that his mother rode a half-dozen years before he was born, when she took her webs of linsey and half-sleyed to the weavers—rode, sitting on a bag of filling while another bagful of warp lay across her lap. He hung to the lines as a drowning man would hang to a floating plank. Oh, this was years and years ago!
Bessie was dressed in white, with pink ribbon loosely tied around her waist. Her bonnet was a little straw, trimmed with pink and white flowers. We can see her as she looked that autumn morning when the sunshine came down, softly filtered through a hazy air—dear little Bess! We heard the clear “Ahem” of the deacon, and it had a hint of reprimand in it. And the mother, who had held up before her child-daughter the dreary picture of an old maid like Becky Jane Duzenberry—she walked up the aisle before the shyly, wedded pair, looking six feet high in stature that day—a bold, big, triumphant, stamping gait, it seems to us now after all these many years, with an air which seemed to say, “My daughter is married and safe from the stigma that some of you will have if you don’t bestir yourselves.”
We have no words to tell how this hasty and ill-advised marriage surprised us. We loved the dear, sprightly girl so well; a mere child, she was undisciplined, inexperienced, unwomanly. Well, well.
To-day Bessie is the wife of a prosperous farmer. This is what the world says. He has gone on raising great crops, improving his stock, enriching his broad and beautiful fields, making “splendid” bargains, grinding the poor, cheating his neighbors, lying awake nights planning how to overreach and undermine, and use unjustifiable means to secure his ends and bring about results that he desires.
Linked to a groveling nature like this, there was no soul-growth in store for our little school-mate. The riches that bring joy and contentment to lesser souls was not hers. “The spring-time of her childish years lost its sweet perfume.”
It was not long after her marriage that Bessie learned there was incompatibility of tastes, habits—that there were different ways of thinking and acting, and child as she was, she hurried off to the sheltering beech-tree above the spring-house and cried as if her heart would break. It was so strange to be scolded by him—the very look out of his angry eyes frightened her, as he flung out his muscular arm with a round brown fist on the end of it! Of course, she reasoned, it was only a gesture, a way of emphasizing his words—his father, old Nathan Ryder, always did that way in religious meetings when he “took up his cross” and told how he loved his “Master,” and how he was “climbing up Zion’s hill,” and how he wanted to “walk in the golden streets of the city above, where never no more pain and sorrow would come any more.”
Bessie couldn’t get used to being scolded. When “one of Ryer’s boys”—her husband—opened the humble little cage in the early morning and let her pet robin-red-breast fly away, she felt as if she never could forgive the injury. When he took down his rifle and shot the mother squirrel whose young family nested in the hollow place in the forks of the old spice-apple, at the back door, she thought he was a brute, and we are sorry to say that she told him so without any hesitancy. When he pulled up the five-fingered ivy-vine, the luxuriant, massy, fluttering beauty that she had trained over the porch and summer-kitchen, and around the hired man’s bed-room window, she could hardly contain the wrath that flashed in her eyes, burned in her cheeks, and trembled in her tearful voice.
When he took the crying baby of a few months’ old out of her arms at night and dashed a dipperful of cold water into its face and bosom to “let it see who was the master,” her grief was voiceless, and spent itself in bitter tears. When he took the fleecy, little pink-and-white hood, with its puffs of dainty rosettes and pretty bows of bright ribbon—the one really beautiful article of baby-wear that she had brought home from the city, elated over her purchase—when he returned it and selected one of solid navy blue with green fringe all around it, and woolen cord and tassel for ornament, she could have thrown the ugly thing into the canal, in her disappointment and humiliation. Little things like these came up between the man and his wife, and they showed plainly the gulf betwixt them. Oh, it was pitiful—and will be pitiful, as long as the world stands, and as long as young women rush into marriage so thoughtlessly, so injudiciously!
Bessie stands not alone. Wives, hundreds of them, could take her by the hand, and looking into each other’s eyes they could read meanings without one word of uttered speech. They could meet as sisters bound by one common tie. Sympathy would unite them; compassion would draw them closer together, and their very bondage would make them friends.
There can hardly be many true marriages when elderly women compassionately say to young girls, “You’d better be looking out for a husband! Handsome girls have so many chances that they won’t have after awhile. Only a few more years, and then if you aren’t married you will be an old maid for sure.”
Nor can there be when kindly-disposed people throw out wily suggestions such as: “Oh, you and John would make such a good match!” “What a nice convenient house and home the girl gets who marries John!” “If I were a girl, I’d set my cap for that nice, steady, pious, good fellow.” “You could get him if you used a little bit of good management.” “He thinks the world of you, but he is so modest and humble—the love of the moth for the star you know.”
Or so long as people who should know better will continue to fling sarcastic remarks toward unmarried women, such as, “Oh, well, she is an old maid, that must be taken into account!” when any little peculiarity of disposition is mentioned.
These things all have a tendency to drive young and thoughtless girls into marriage. Just as little jibes, and hints, and advice, and the fear of being called by the name of old maid, hurries many of them into ill-assorted marriages. Why, so common is this state of affairs, that if you were to tell an ordinary girl of sixteen that she would not be married at the age of twenty-two, she would mope and cry over the hopelessness of her case! It is a common belief among girls that there is nothing worth living for after twenty but marriage, and that every woman who reaches twenty-five unmarried is booked as that dreadful thing, an “old maid,” and that nothing short of miraculous intervention can rescue her from that dreadful condition.
Poor little frivolous things! it is the conduct springing from such motives that so often causes remarks which flush the faces of women of beautiful character and disposition.—Arthur’s Home Magazine.

The Home Circle.

By J. W. Barker

GROWING OLD.

GRACEFULLY, tenderly, down by the stream Hangs the pale aster at morning and even, Lazily nodding as in a sweet dream, Breathing sweet words of the glory of heaven; Faded its beauty, and crisp are its leaves, Tarnished its vesture of crimson and gold, Mournful the cadence the whispering wind breathes, “Summer has vanished, we're all growing old.”
Over the meadowland, deftly and still, Blasting the beauty of spring's early green, Crisping the forest and browning the hill, Wanders a spirit no mortal hath seen; Through the low valley, the low-voiced wind, Touching the strings that are crispy and cold, Listening, the same plaintive measure I find:— “Summer is over, we're all growing old.”
Laughing o'er meadows, regaling in bowers, Singing a song that is artless and wild, Bathing his locks in the dew of the flowers, Sported in sunshine an innocent child; Over the path of the swift-footed years, Hangeth a shadow, with night on its fold, Bending in sadness, and blinded with tears, White lips are breathing, “We're all growing old.”
As I gazed on the aster that stood by the stream, So withered and pale with the weight of the year, A voice all divine touched its mystical dream, And the tokens of winter and age disappear, And fresher and fairer than ever before, Unfolding their tints in the light of the sun, Adorning in beauty, the evergreen shore, Sweet blossoms are bursting a thousand to one.
And lo, the brown meadow is springing with life, The mountains, the hillsides, and valley between, Are wearing a verdure, amid the glad strife, Far brighter than ever a mortal hath seen; For a spirit as still as the light of a star, And soft as the zephyr that whispers at even, On the wings of the morning, hath come from afar, And covered the earth with the sunshine of heaven.
The pilgrim that stood in the shadow and gloom, And wept o'er the vision of youth that was gone, I can see through the mists that envelop the tomb, On his brow is the glory of life's fairest morn; For a breath hath revealed to my wandering view, What the sages and prophets so often have told; From the death of the old, comes the life of the new, And the true and the beautiful never grow old.
But then, while the years keep their measureless tread Thro' the shadows of earth, we may count by the way, The forms of our beautiful, faded and dead, That gladdened the heart at the dawn of its day. But faith, thro' the shadows that cover us here, Looks out, far beyond the ethereal sky, And the eye gathers light, while the soul swells with cheer, For the true and the pure they shall live though they die.
A thought, breathing love, is a native of heaven, And born in the soul as it wanders o'er earth, From the dawn of its day to the shade of its even, With devotion it clings to the land of its birth; And the schemes that it plans, and the structure it rears, Shall live when the granite is crumbled and old; Who sows in the heart, tho' he scatter in tears, Shall reap a ripe harvest of crimson and gold. —J. W. Barker.

Never Swear.

1. It is mean. A boy of high moral standing would almost as soon steal a sheep as swear.
2. It is vulgar—altogether too low for a decent boy.
3. It is cowardly—implying a fear of not being believed or obeyed.
4. It is ungentlemanly. A gentleman, according to Webster, is a genteel man—well-bred, refined. Such a one will no more swear than to go into the street to throw mud with a chimney-sweep.
5. It is indecent—offensive to delicacy, and extremely unfit for human ears.
6. It is foolish. “Want of decency is want of sense.”
7. It is abusive—to the mind which conceives the oath, to the tongue which utters it, and to the person at whom it is aimed.
8. It is venomous—showing a boy’s heart to be a nest of vipers, and every time he swears one of them sticks out from his head.
9. It is contemptible—forfeiting the respect of all the wise and good.
10. It is wicked—violating the divine law, and provoking the displeasure of him who will not hold him guiltless who takes his name in vain.—Sel.

India

INDIA contains 50,000,000 more people than the whole of Europe. It has sixty-two cities of more than 50,000 people, twenty-two with more than 100,000, while Calcutta has a population of about 866,000. There are hundreds of cities of 20,000 and upwards.

“Baby Cried and Jack Cried.”

It has been going on for a year past. Jack is a carrier for one of the dailies, and his circuit takes in a house on Scott Street. One day last spring a baby crowded to him from an open door on that street, and Jack tossed an apple into the hall. The next day the baby was watching for him, and after three or four days the boy made bold to slip up the steps and pat the little chap on the head, and leave the stick of candy he had purchased two miles away. As time went on Jack came to know that the baby was fatherless, and that its mother was pale-faced and hardly able to drag about. It was weeks before she spoke to him, but the baby took to Jack right away, and was always ready for his coming. After the first week it was always clean-faced, but it was a good while before Jack roused up courage to give him a kiss, and to ask for one in return. After that it was plain sailing, and the neighbors became interested. It was queer enough that a boy like Jack, having his own way to make and roughing it until he had become suspicious and hard-hearted, should catch on to a little whitehead, and be more than a big brother to him, but that was what happened.
And something more. One day he brought up a quarter of a pound of tea and left it where the mother would find it, and this was followed by other parcels and articles. One day he missed the baby, and crept into the hall to find that he had cried himself to sleep, and that the mother was ill and helpless. Jack roused up the neighbors, and whatever was eaten in that house for the next two weeks was purchased with Jack’s money. The mother could only thank him and weep. She could not speak ten words of English.
A fortnight ago Jack missed the baby again, and again he found the mother ill. Friends were with her this time, and she did not suffer for care. A week ago there was crape on the door as the carrier went his round, and the baby had been carried off by a neighbor. When Jack came round next day, the mother had been buried, and people were watching to tell him that the house was to be vacated and baby was to go to a distant city. He had been brought back to bid the carrier good-by, and the poor and lowly people drew off with tears in their eyes, and Jack sat on the door-steps and took baby in his lap and kissed his red cheeks. Baby clung around his neck and seemed to realize that he was to lose a friend, and, as one who stood by expressed it:—
“The baby cried and Jack cried, and the women put their aprons up and sobbed like children. When they finally took the child away, Jack’s heart was big enough to break, and throwing his arms around the little chap for the last time, he turned and ran away, and never looked back!”—Detroit Free Press.

The Gorilla.

The gorillas are the terror of Africa. In the gorilla country no lion will live. They are man-haters, and kill them for the love of it, leaving the body—never eating it. When they spy a negro, they come down from a tree, hit him on the head with a club, which they wield with their hind claw, or carry him up a tree, there to murder him. Their strength is so great that they will bend the barrel of a rifle. Only one live one was ever brought to England, and that soon died. Several have been shot, but they are tough customers, and the natives dread them more than any animal of the African forests. The gorilla makes a bed like a hammock, and swings in the trees. He is the sworn enemy of the elephant, because each derives subsistence from the same source. When he sees an elephant pulling down and wrenching off the branches of a favorite tree, he steals among the boughs, strikes the sensitive proboscis of the elephant a terrible blow with his club, which drives off the clumsy and startled giant, shrilly trumpeting his pain and rage through the jungles of the forest.

The Man Who Gives Nothing

“That man may last, but never lives, Who much receives, but nothing gives; Whom none can love, whom none can thank, Creation’s blot, creation’s blank.” —Gibbons.
Continue reading: ESTABLISHED 1882