Earlier text: THE MYSTERY OF INIQUITY IN OUR OWN COUNTRYSODOM'S LAST WARNING.
By Mrs. E. G. White
SODOM was situated in a beautiful and fertile plain, and reveled in an abundance of everything that nature and art could bestow. The inhabitants of Sodom seemed to be strangers to want and to work. A poor man was not permitted to become an inhabitant of the city. He was driven out by abuse, or if not driven out, was the victim of an iniquitous plan that compassed his ruin. The people of this wicked city took no thought for the future life. Idleness and wealth and love of excitement carried them into every excess of pleasure and indulgence. The sensual, animal nature was cultivated, and as, like the world before the flood, the imagination of their hearts was evil, and evil continually, they set their minds to work to find out new, unnatural ways whereby they might gratify their abominable, corrupt passions. Inspiration gives a testimony concerning the corrupt condition of the world before the flood. The Bible says: "As the days of Noah were, so shall also the coming of the Son of Man be. For as in the days that were before the flood they were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, until the day that Noah entered into the ark, and knew not until the flood came, and took them all away; so shall also the coming of the Son of Man be." Before the flood they employed all their powers for the gratification of base passions, and cast contempt upon the law of God, and as it was in the days of the flood, so it was in the time of Sodom. They would not admit for a moment that their devotion to sensual pleasure brought upon them guilt and danger. They knew not that the cloud of divine wrath, which their sin had for years been loading, was about to break forth in vengeance upon them. Before the time of Sodom's overthrow, two angels visited Abraham and were courteously entertained. As they were passing on their way to Sodom, Abraham accompanied them, and they revealed to the patriarch the errand for which they had come,—to destroy Sodom. They told Abraham that because of the grievous wickedness of the inhabitants, the city was to be destroyed. Abraham knew that Lot was in this place, and although he had been taught of God, he could not believe that the inhabitants of Sodom were so utterly corrupt. He began to plead that the righteous should not perish with the wicked, that if a certain number of the godly were there, the city might be spared. Pleading for the city, he decreased the number of righteous that would be likely to be found in the city, until he reached the number of ten. But although God would have spared the city if ten righteous persons could have been found there, that number could not be made up to redeem the city. As the evening draws on, the men of Sodom see the two messengers approaching, but as they have concealed their heavenly character, they appear as common men coming in from the country to visit Sodom. If the veil could be removed from our eyes we should often see in the form of men, the powerful messengers of mercy or of wrath among us. They warn, they caution, they reprove, they protect from a thousand dangers, and yet we know not that the angel's blessing has come to us.760 As the angels draw nigh unto Sodom, only one man manifests an interest in the strangers. Lot welcomed them in, invited them to his house. He was ignorant in regard to the character of these men, and knew not the terrible errand upon which they had come; but the courtesy which he manifested was in harmony with his character, and he was saved from the general ruin. Had he appeared indifferent to these strangers, he would not have secured to himself such help as only the angels can give. Many a house has been closed to strangers who were God's messengers of hope, and blessing, and peace. In neglecting the commonest duties of life, withholding kindness and courtesy and hospitality, we miss the richest blessings heaven has to bestow. When the men of Sodom saw that Lot opened his doors to these strangers, that he did not treat them with derision and contempt, they were stirred with passion. As Lot in Eastern fashion bows in deference, and invites them to share his home, they taunt and jeer. Lot was a man of great wealth, but in showing respect to these travelers he did not meet the mind of these ease-loving Sodomites. They crowded about the house of Lot, and as the crowd increased, vile speeches were made which revealed the state of corruption that existed among the people, and the worst suggestions were received and acted upon. The crowd became more clamorous in their cries to have Lot bring forth the strangers to them; for they had become so base through the indulgence of evil passions, that every good thought had been uprooted, and reason was so clouded that they would even do violence to the angels of heaven. The angels had come to see if there were any in the city who were not corrupted, and could be persuaded to flee from the impending doom that threatened Sodom. That night the evil doers added the last drop to their cup of iniquity, and the wrath of God could no longer be delayed. The night of the destruction of Sodom the inhabitants of the city were doing that which they had been doing through all their past life. They were no more base and dissolute and corrupt than on other nights when strangers had entered their city; but there is a point beyond which there is no reprieve, and that night the inhabitants of Sodom passed the mystic boundary that decided their destiny. Lot expostulated with them at his door, and refused to permit them to do violence to the strangers who were in his house. But the evil doers had no idea of being restrained from accomplishing their purpose, but thought to beat Lot to the ground, and get access to the strangers. Before this was done, the angels drew Lot into the house, and smote the men with blindness, so that they wearied themselves to find the door. The angels then told Lot what was their errand, and made known to him that God would bring destruction upon the wicked city. Lot believed the word of the angels, but his family was reluctant to receive their message, for they had so long lived in sight and sound of wickedness that their senses were blunted to the grievous character of sin. Lot had afflicted his soul for the debasing sins that the Sodomites were continually committing, and yet even he had not thought their sin was of the debasing character it was, nor deemed that it was so firmly seated as to yield to no remedy. He begs permission of the angels to go forth and warn his daughters and sons-in-law who live in the city. He made his way through the rabble, who were prevented from injuring him by the power of the angels, and gave his message to his children. With grief and terror he begs them to leave the doomed city, and flee with him ere its destruction shall be accomplished, but they look upon him as upon one who is mad, coming to them with such a message at the midnight hour. They laugh at his fears, and think some horrible nightmare has crazed his brain. They will not trouble themselves about the matter, but treat it as a joke, and these who will not receive the message, sleep on, heedless of the last warning of their lives. Anxious and disappointed, Lot returns to his home through the rabble, and finds the angels still waiting, urging that Lot and his family leave the city before the sun is fully risen. As they go out they see no visible token of God's displeasure. Everything seems to say peace and safety. The sun is illuminating the eastern hills with golden beams, and everything in nature seems to say peace. But the words of the angels ring in the ears of Lot, saying, "The Lord will destroy this city." Unbelief did not prevent the destruction of Sodom. Trifling and gayety did not secure its inhabitants against the doom that overtook the wicked city. They flattered themselves that long days of indulgence in sin were yet to be theirs, but in such an hour as they thought not of, ruin encompassed them. FORWARD, ROLL FORWARD.
By G. D. B.
Forward, roll forward, O Time, in your flight;
Hasten, oh, hasten! turn darkness to light;
Jesus, return to this sad heart of mine,
For thy love let me no longer repine.
Blot from thy record my sin and my shame,
Pardon my wanderings, accept me again.
Over my footsteps your loving watch keep;
Add thou thy blessing, no more will I weep. Forward, roll forward, O Tide of the years;
I am so weary of sin, doubts, and fears,
Fears for my weakness, and doubt's of thy power;
Take them, and clothe me with thy strength once more. I am so heartsick with striving in vain,
Efforts to conquer where sin long did reign.
Come in, O Saviour, I yield all to thee;
Come in, my Saviour henceforward to be. Tired of my wretched heart, faithless, untrue,
Jesus, dear Jesus, my heart yearns for you.
Blind and so naked, so poor have I been,
Naught but thy grace can restore me again;
Faith with strong yearning and passionate pain
Calls for thy Spirit within me again;
Break the sad silence so long and so deep;
Unto my inmost soul sweet comfort speak. Over my heart in the days long since flown
No love like Jesus' love ever has shone;
No other watchcare abides and endures,
Faithful, unselfish, and patient, like yours;
No one like Jesus can soothe away pain
From the sick soul and the world-weary brain.
Jesus, dear Jesus, the new heart restore,
Oh, let me live in thy presence once more! Now, blessed Saviour, thy promise I claim;
On my repentant heart stamp thy new name;
Bring in thy righteousness; make me thine own;
My sin-burdened soul no longer shall groan;
With joy and thanksgiving I'll break forth and sing,
Sound the high praises of Jesus, my King.
Peace like a river shall evermore roll;
Heavenly blessings shall water my soul. Swiftly roll onward, O Time, in your flight,
Sweep away quickly this dark, sinful night;
Bring the glad day when my Saviour shall come,
The life of his children, his heaven their home.
Sorrow and sighing shall then be no more;
All are immortal on life's happy shore.
Eternal praises we'll evermore sing
To Jesus, Redeemer and Saviour and King. POPISH CONVENTS IN AMERICA.
By Editor
AFTER relating how the convents were suppressed in Italy, Dowling in his "History of Romanism" makes the following appeal to Americans. We wish it might be read by everyone who thinks that the encroachments of Romanism are but the harmless advances of a branch of the Christian church:— "Is it not enough to make the very blood of an American father or brother boil with indignation to think that hundreds of daughters and sisters of America are, at this moment, immured in these gloomy prison houses, many of them, doubtless, pining and longing for their liberty, and yet that there is no one out of the Romish Church that has the legal right of access to them, however nearly related, and no law which establishes the right even of inspection and inquiry as to the treatment of these helpless females? Does anyone doubt that many of such young persons, probably induced to enter these institutions at a time of life when their judgment is feeble and their imagination strong, are compelled to remain against their will? That few of them would remain if permitted to exercise free volition, is a certainty founded on all we know of human nature. It is useless to argue about it. The situation of these women is utterly unnatural, and must be intolerably irksome until the enfeebled mind loses its power to struggle against misery. "Moreover, a number of nuns have, from time to time, escaped. Alas! that this word should, in this country, be the only one applicable to the departure of a woman from a house where she has been kept without legal authority. The story told by these is invariably the same. They all have become disgusted with convent life; they all have been eagerly desirous of departure; they all have been carefully watched by their keepers; and they all declare that many, unable to escape, are pining miserably in their cloisters. "Supposing that the real purpose of these houses is religious—admitting all that the priests would have us believe of their own superhuman purity—yet it is horrible that women should be kept in these places after they have found their mistake in going into them. What ground can the priests have for retaining them when no longer nuns at heart? Is it not apparent that if all was right in these places, the priests would expel every woman whom they found apostate in soul? Is it reasonable to suppose that they would detain by force, as a bride of the Deity, a young woman whose heart was utterly unfaithful to her vows? "It is plain enough that the priests have other than religious views and maxims in relation to convents. Much also has been revealed of the abominations practiced in these places. It has been proclaimed to the world, upon the authority of Catholics themselves, that houses of religion where young women are under the control of Catholic priests, are liable to be perverted into places of shocking licentiousness and most unmitigated despotism over the hearts, minds, and persons of the nuns. In Catholic countries, again and again, ecclesiastical authorities, as we have shown, have searched into these matters, and proclaimed the horrible wickedness of the nunneries; and in our own country, now and then, a wretched woman has contrived to make known to the American people the fact that foreign ecclesiastics are repeating in the convents the conduct charged upon them in Europe. "It is not at all necessary to adduce individual instances, however easy the task, in order to confirm suspicion of the wrong done to American women in convents. No body of men would be likely to have unrestrained power over women without abusing it; and of all men, the Catholic priests, from the nature of their relation to society, are the least likely to be blameless under these circumstances. When opportunity is continual, restraint unfelt, secrecy secured, exposure fully guarded against it needs no record to inform us of the consequence. "These women are not under the protection of the law. The law has no knowledge of them; they have no access to it except at the will of those who keep the keys of their prisons. The law provides that a wife shall have protection against her husband. She may at any time go before a magistrate and make complaint against him, and the magistrate will do her justice, even though he should send the husband to prison. The father has not uncontrolled authority over the daughter. The law shields her against harshness. Were it known that a husband kept his wife locked up, or a father his daughter, an officer of the law would soon inquire into the cause. The woman would have leave to speak, and to speak to those able and ready to redress her wrongs. The State itself is not at liberty to keep a female in prison without permitting inspection by the grand jury, that great vigilance committee, which always watches over personal liberty and right. "But what a husband may not do, what a father may not do, what the State may not do, is freely accorded to foreign priests that we know not of, except that in the land whence they came men's hearts are sick and their souls weary because of them. The priests may keep the nuns locked up, nobody interferes; they may offer them the grossest insults, inflict upon them the utmost outrage,761 and the poor victims cannot make complaint. No grand jury enters these portals, which, once closed upon the nuns, shut them in from all the devices of society for the protection of person. When a nun is removed, nobody knows it; when she dies, nobody necessarily knows it—there are no coroners' inquests in nunneries. Are such places as these suitable abodes for the daughters and sisters of American freemen? "American convents, awed into at least an appearance of decency by the Protestant sentiment of the country, may throw a more impenetrable veil of concealment over their dark proceedings; but human nature is the same everywhere; their character is the same; no less than Italian convents are they all dark prison houses to those who enter them, of slavery, misery, corruption, and despair. Strange that they should ever exist in these free and enlightened United States! Stranger still that they should sometimes grow and flourish through the patronage and support of Protestant Americans! But, strangest of all, that American politicians should sell themselves to Rome, and buy Catholic votes with subsidies drawn from the pockets of Protestant taxpayers to these un-American, popish institutions!" SEED THOUGHTS.
By Willis S. Hinman
BY REV. WILLIS S. HINMAN. Our Father's Book.—It is a wonderful book. God gave it, and through all the years he has protected it. Once a part of the Bible was lost in the temple. There are some other houses where the Bible is lost. Lawbreakers would like to hide or get rid of all law books. So sinners wish God's Book of law kept out of their sight. This Book is a safe guide. The Reformation was a reformation, because Luther insisted on the church's return to the Bible. There are other good books, but no book is good if it takes the place of your Bible. How shall we use it?—Study it. There are many gems in it that you have never seen. Search for them. You might as well have no Bible as not to read the one you have. Some people use their Bible as a place for hiding valuables. The Bible is to read, not to use as a bank or safety vault. I like to see a Bible on a man's parlor table, but I would rather still see it in his heart. It is a book for us all. No matter how unlearned you are, it has precious truths for your comprehension. No matter how wise you are, it can teach you something. There are greater discoveries to be made in the Bible than at the north pole or in Africa. Your usefulness as a Bible student is not measured by what you know of the Bible, but by the use you make of your knowledge. Pray God to show you his will for the right use of it. If you want to know how wicked sin is, don't ask your neighbor what he thinks about it, but go to the Bible and learn what sin is in the sight of God. Pass your knowledge along. If the Bible teaches you something you are glad to know, call some other person's attention to it. You think you know the Bible pretty well. If all the Bible were lost, how much could you reproduce from memory? Opinions differ as to woman's place in religious work, but one thing is certain—a woman who knows the Bible and how to use it in Christian work is superior to a man who don't. When King Josiah found the long-lost book of the law, he sent it to Huldah for interpretation because she knew the book.—Lutheran Observer. SOME years ago a young lady began to visit her pastor's study as a religious inquirer. Prayer was offered for her, and the plainest instructions given, but she remained unmoved, excepting to regret that she could not become a Christian. At last, after three months of labor and anxiety, her pastor said:— "I can do nothing with Sophia L.; she is perfectly unmanageable. I doubt if she will ever yield to the claims of the gospel." "What is the trouble? Can you not discover the obstacle in her way?" was asked. "I find that she is an inveterate novel reader, and I have come to the conclusion that this will keep her out of the kingdom." "Can she not be persuaded to give up her novels?" "That is not the point entirely. She has wasted her sensibilities over unreal subjects so long—so continually reversed right and wrong, looking at vice in the garb of virtue, and at virtue in that of unworthiness and injustice—that she has destroyed her moral sense. She assents to truth, but seems to have no power to grasp it; she knows what is right, but has no energy of will to do it. Her mind is enervated, and I fear hopelessly so." When we look at the young people daily flocking to the public libraries for the latest novels, or see them lounging away their best hours over the story papers and the magazines; when we hear of this one or that one who "does nothing but read novels the whole day through," we think of Sophia L., who is "perfectly unmanageable" to the points of truth and duty, and wonder if they, too, must be given over to mental and moral disease and death.—Selected. LIFE-GIVING KNOWLEDGE.
By J. R. Miller, D.D.
ANYONE who truly knows God has eternal life. Knowing God, however, is more than knowing about him. Anyone may have all the doctrinal knowledge of God's character, attributes, and works which the Bible reveals, and yet not know God at all in the way that gives life. We may know all about some great man biographically, and yet not know the man at all personally. But suppose we then meet him, and become intimately associated with him, and he becomes our dear friend, and we learn to love him and trust him, then we really know him. We first learn about him, and then we seek him and find him; and he receives us into his family. Then we learn to trust him and to love him. We can know God only through Jesus Christ.—J. R. Miller, D.D. Hesitating at a Call to Duty
By Christian Worker
WHEN one hesitates at a call which is put to him as a duty, his first question ought not to be, "Can I see my way clear to accept it?" but, "Can I see my way clear to refuse it?" He will sometimes find the latter way blocked, when he would have imagined that he saw the former way open.—Christian Worker. ARE THESE THINGS SO?
By Christian Advocate
THEY who worship God in spirit and in truth will worship him both in private and in public. The tendency to be content with the more conspicuous and showy forms of devotion should be scrupulously guarded against by Christians. That this tendency is at work among the members of the various Christian churches there can be no doubt. Secret prayer and family devotion do not receive the attention they deserve, nor are they observed as punctually and generally among Christians as are the public services of the sanctuary. There are many who go regularly to the house of God on the Sabbath, some of them occupying official positions in the church, who habitually neglect the more private religious exercises whereby the saints have been wont to draw nigh to God. Where this is true, there is something wrong, and the wrong is serious. A correspondent who says he has made inquiries in five different pastoral charges, states that out of twenty-three class leaders, only nine observed family worship in any form. Of fifteen Sunday school superintendents, only four had worship in their homes; of forty-seven stewards, only sixteen pretended to attend to this duty. On another charge there were forty-two families in which both husband and wife were members of the church, and only nine of them conducted worship in their homes. Of twenty-two wives whose husbands were not members, only one held worship in the family; and of twelve widows, only four had family prayers. On another charge four families out of thirty-five were found where domestic worship was maintained; and of twenty-one women whose husbands were not Christians, only one observed religious worship in her family. These facts are not sufficient to enable one to determine the state of affairs with reference to this singularly important duty throughout the entire church; but they cover ground enough to render them peculiarly significant. If a similar condition should be found to exist in all parts of the country among Christian people, the case is alarming. An inquiry on this line should be conducted by each Christian for himself, and the remedy is with those who find themselves delinquent. Some have been deterred from engaging in family worship by the impression that it is some formidable task which they are not able to undertake. No set form of religious service can be marked out for the household. They may be ever so simple and yet lack nothing in effectiveness. If a lesson from the Bible should be read regularly once or twice a day in the family, and silent prayer offered, the conditions of family devotion would be met. This would be far better than no worship at all. Infinite good would result from this simple plan, which any household could carry out. It would be better still if audible prayer should be offered. This should never be omitted, except in rare cases. Matthew Henry said, "They who daily pray in their homes do well; they that not only pray, but read the Scriptures also, do better; but they do best of all who not only pray, and read the Scriptures, but sing the praises of God." No form of household worship can be said to be complete without prayer, reading the Bible, and singing; but let no one neglect to do what he can because he cannot do all these.—Christian Advocate. "AN UNEXPECTED PRIZE."
By Mrs. F. A. Reynolds
THE sad death of Frank Ellis cast a gloom over the entire circle of his acquaintances. The fact of his disobedience in being at the pond, made an impression on all his mates who had known his willful disposition, and for a time, at least, more regard was paid to parents and their wishes. Very naturally the conversation in the Manton home turned on the ten commandments. "There is one commandment we can't see broken here very well," said Paul one day. "The second," replied Paul. "If we were in India or Africa now, we might, but no one makes graven images here to worship. I guess Mr. Gordon forgot there are no heathen here when he told us we could see every command broken." "Don't be too sure, Paul," said Mrs. Manton. "You may see images worshiped right here in our own city, if you happen to go to the right places." "Tell me to-night, won't you? I must hurry to school now, it is nearly one o'clock." Paul hurried back from the gate to ask permission to go home after school with Arthur Glenn, to see the beautiful shells his California uncle had sent him. "You may go and stay an hour," said his mother, "then hurry home to do your work and lessons." Paul promised and ran off. Mrs. Manton smiled as she said to her husband, who was still at the table, "There may be a chance for Paul to see there that the second commandment is broken in some American homes." It was about half past five when Paul came home. Arthur was with him, and helped him do his work, then they studied together until at seven Mrs. Manton called them to dinner. Arthur went home about nine o'clock, declaring it was "lots more fun to work and study with another fellow than to be alone." Then he got what he wanted, a cordial invitation from Mrs. Manton to come and study with Paul as often as he wished, for Arthur was a quiet, gentlemanly boy. They were all out on the porch when Arthur left, and as his footsteps died away, Paul turned to his mother, saying, "Mamma, do you remember what we talked about at lunch to-day?" "Not just now; what was it, Paul?" "About graven images, and worshiping them, you know." "Well, I've seen them to-day." "Nonsense! they are not heathen." "I suppose not, but they do have images and pray to them." "Tell me all about it," demanded Hope, moving her chair closer to her brother. "Why, you see I went home with Arthur to see his new shells, and after sitting awhile in the parlor, talking with Mrs. Glenn and Ivy, Arthur took me to his own room. It is ever so nice. There is an alcove for the bed and wash stand, and the rest is like a lovely sitting room and library. He has a large case of books, and a new case for his shells and minerals. After we had looked at them we sat down, and in looking about and admiring his room, I noticed in one corner a little table with a beautiful cover; it had a cross on it. On the table was a prayer book, a small ivory and gilt cross, and a pretty little statuette, I thought. I spoke of it and Arthur said, 'Yes, it is Our Blessed Lady.' I didn't know what he meant, and I guess I stared, for he turned red a little and said, 'The Virgin Mary, you know.'" "Oh, yes!" I said, and then I remembered they were Catholics. But I said, "It is a pretty statuette; I should think you would have it on the mantel." "Oh!" he said, "that is where I use it. That is my little oratory mamma fixed up for me on my last birthday, where I pray, you know. Don't you have your prayers?" "Yes," I said, "mamma taught us to pray, but we do not have any little statues." Then I said, "What do you have it for, Arthur? Do you pray to it?" "Why, yes," he said, "we always pray to Our Blessed Lady." "I didn't know what to say, mamma, so I just said, 'We pray to God and do not have any—statues.' Then I looked at something else quick, and before long we came over home." "Well, I never!" gasped Hope in astonishment, as Paul turned inquiringly to his mother. "I do not know," said Mrs. Manton, "as you could have said anything better. It is the truth, and the simple truth is often best without any comment." "And they really do pray to images?" cried Hope. "I thought probably Paul was mistaken." "No," said Mrs. Manton, "they pray before the crucifix and the image of the Virgin Mary. The more intelligent Catholics say they do not worship the images, but have them to aid in devotion. It is a plain violation of the second commandment, though, and so they refer it to heathen worship." "But isn't it idolatry, mamma?" asked Paul. "They do violate the second commandment, and their feeling for and prayers to the Virgin Mary border on idolatry. They claim she intercedes with God for them. They pray to saints to intercede for them too. You know Christ is our only Mediator, or Intercessor." "Well," said Hope thoughtfully, "there is the first commandment—surely that refers to heathen,—'Thou shalt have no other gods before me.' Now some people here are not Christians, to be sure, and do not worship God, but they don't worship any other god either." "And yet many people in America, even professed Christians, put other gods before Jehovah," said Mrs. Manton. "Truly, mamma?" asked Hope. "Truly, child; but they often do not know it. Well, I won't tell you now what these gods are. You will perhaps discover for yourselves before Mr. Gordon returns." MY LAST CIGAR.
By H. C. Morrison
I CAME to manhood and entered the ministry without learning "the use of the weed." But soon after I became a preacher I was led into its use by association with preachers who enjoyed their cigars. Once under the habit, it grew upon me, and soon I was smoking to excess. If the pipe was used, it was reloaded from half a dozen to a dozen times at a sitting. If cigars were used, it required from ten to fifteen per day. My love for tobacco became almost a passion, and seven years of my ministerial life had upon them the strong smell of tobacco. But I became conscious of my bondage and determined to be free. I had the idea that God would help me to get gradually out of a habit into which I had gradually fallen. Hence I went to God for help. On my knees I promised to give up the habit, and asked him for strength. I broke that promise within two days. Again and again I promised, vowed and broke my vows, until I was ashamed to go back to God with the matter. Meantime the appetite increased and absolutely possessed me. I have found myself, while laboring with penitents at the altar of prayer, wishing for the meeting to close that I might enjoy my cigar, which I had brought with me to the church. My friends, in mistaken kindness, kept me supplied with the best cigars, the finest pipes, and the best brands of smoking tobacco. I have sometimes thrown away pipes, cigars, tobacco, everything, and resolved in desperation, "I will go through one night without tobacco," and then have found myself at midnight, when all were sleeping, in the third story of my dwelling searching through trunks and boxes for tobacco that had been placed there as a safeguard against moths. This I would roll into cigarettes and smoke them. Indeed, it seemed I must have tobacco or die. No poor inebriate had ever more completely surrendered to the bottle than had I to the cigar. After months of struggle and humiliation I gave up the conflict, and concluded to live and die under the power of a habit which I could not master. This seemed to me no worse than to struggle and suffer and fail and fall, as I was constantly doing. For a time I had rest—the rest of a prisoner in passive submission to his fetters, and yet conscious of his right to be free. While in this condition I was providentially brought to know that I might be free in an instant. Instantaneous freedom! I had thought and prayed only for a gradual deliverance, but the thought of being free in a moment had not occurred to my mind. It was on this wise: One morning during my pastorate at one of the churches in the city of Louisville, Ky., there was thrown at my door a small tract or pamphlet, entitled "The Wonders of Grace," in the instantaneous deliverance from the opium habit, the whisky habit, the morphine habit, the tobacco habit, etc. When I picked it up and read the title, I became indignant. I felt it an insult that such a document should be sent to me, as the pastor of a respectable church. But as no one knew I had it, like Moses, "I looked this763 way and that way," and then thrust it into my pocket. The day passed—the morning in the study, the afternoon in the pastoral field. Returning in the evening, I called at the drug store of a friend, and, sitting aside, I drew the pamphlet from my pocket and began to peruse it with the same incredulity and semi-contempt with which I would examine any other fanatical production. There was no effort at argument, only simple statements, with names, dates, and places, followed, perhaps, with a Scripture quotation apropos. One under the opium habit for twenty years, set free in an instant in answer to prayer. Name and residence given. Another thus delivered from the whisky habit, the morphine or tobacco habit. While thus reading, I fell into this kind of mental soliloquy: "Do you believe the gospel you preach every Sabbath?—Yes, I believe it with all my heart. Do you not teach that if a sinner will repent of his sins and come to Christ, asking and believing, God will instantaneously pardon the sins of his life?—I do, and I know experimentally that this is true. Then, if he will instantaneously pardon the sins of a whole lifetime, can he not instantaneously remove an appetite which you have been but a few years forming?—Yes, I believe he can. Do you not further preach and teach that ‘whatsoever ye shall ask, that is consistent with the divine will, and believe, ye shall receive’?—This is what the Book authorizes me to teach. Then do you think it consistent with the divine will that you should be free from an appetite that is making you a slave?—Yes, I think He is willing. Now the hard question, Are you willing—willing to give up this luxury (for it was the luxury of my life) if you may only be free from the appetite? I had then about the tenth cigar for that day partly consumed. But I had suffered so much, and was so anxious to be free, that my whole being responded. Yes! Yes! I am willing. Then, if God be willing, and you are willing, shall not this appetite go out now and forever? And with this thought the half-consumed cigar passed from my fingers into a receptacle for cigar stumps and other trash which sat near by. The appetite went out of me. I knew when the chain broke. I felt I was free. Rising from my seat, I stepped out on the pavement under a strange and peculiar sense of freedom. There was no emotion, no prayer that I remember save "the soul’s sincere desire." It was a mental process in which I brought myself up to the point that I must confess I was not sincere in what I preached, or I must accept the simple truth that God is true to his word, and thus know the truth of my own gospel. I walked home under the happy consciousness that God had done what I once asked him to help me do. But I said nothing to the family. They knew my weakness on this line. It has now been well nigh twenty years since that last cigar passed, half smoked, from my hands; and from that instant to the present I have had no more sense of desire for tobacco than the little child that never knew its subtle power. I felt no stupor, no nervousness, no unrest, no sleeplessness. I was as though I had never known the habit. I am thus to-day.—The Soldier. A BOY'S PROMISE.
By George Cooper
THE school was out, and down the street
A noisy crowd came thronging,
The hue of health and gladness sweet
To every face belonging. Among them strode a little lad,
Who listened to another,
And mildly said, half grave, half sad,
"I can't—I promised mother." A shout went up, a ringing shout
Of boisterous derision,
But not one moment left in doubt
That manly, brave decision. "Go where you please, do what you will,"
He calmly told the other,
"But I shall keep my word, boys, still;
I can't—I promised mother." Ah! who could doubt the future course
Of one who thus had spoken?
Through manhood's struggle, gain, and loss,
Could faith like this be broken? God's blessing on that steadfast will,
Unyielding to another,
That bars all jeers and laughter still,
Because he promised mother.
—George Cooper. DURING the great heat which oppressed the southern parts of France in the summer of last year, a humane and inventive horse owner in Bordeaux provided all his horses with straw hats. At first everybody jeered at horses’ hats, as they did at Jonas Hanway’s umbrella. But the innovation soon justified itself as so practical that everybody wondered that he had not thought of it before, and it came to be regarded as so indispensable that before the summer ended nearly every horse in cabs, coaches, omnibuses, wagons, and carts, in town and country, had some kind of hat on his head. The new straw hat, which is now becoming a great article of trade in the South of France, covers the eyes and forehead of the horse, while openings are left for the ears. A sponge is kept in the inside of the hat, and this is moistened from time to time with vinegar, so as to keep the horse’s head refreshingly cool.—Our Dumb Animals.