p. 1176 | Review and Herald, Vol. 90, No. 49. (12/4/1913)

Hopeless Heathenism in India

By M. D. Wood

M. D. WOOD

“But I would not have you to be ignorant, brethren, concerning them which are asleep, that ye sorrow not, even as others which have no hope.” I Thess. 4:13. When the apostle Paul wrote these words, he was communicating his thoughts to those who had once been worshipers of dumb idols, but who were then looking to Jesus, the author and finisher of their faith. He knew that when their beloved friends should die, their own faith would be put to the test, and they would be likely, if ignorant of the omnipotence of their Saviour Jesus Christ, to grieve for them as they grieved for their departed friends before they accepted the faith of Christ. Should they do this, they would not only become despondent themselves, but a stumbling-block to others who might behold them.

In Heb. 6:19 Paul says that the Christian’s hope is “an anchor of the soul.” An anchor holds the heavy boat to which it is attached, and keeps it from drifting and from being driven up and down by the waves in time of storm and tempest and dark clouds. Blessed hope this, that we shall some day see Jesus as he is, and shall be made like him; and thrice blessed the hope that “even so them also which sleep in Jesus will God bring with him.” The exhortation of the aged apostle to “sorrow not, even as others which have no hope,” has of late been very forcibly impressed upon my mind, the reason of which I will now give.

Less than fifty yards from our present headquarters there live four or five families of low-caste Hindus. Several weeks ago a child belonging to one of these families took ill and lingered along in pain and suffering for some time. Without doubt the parents were too ignorant really to care for their child. Once they came to our dispensary for medicine.

One morning the whole neighborhood was aroused by the most pathetic groans and cries. All went at once to their doors and windows to ascertain the cause of this grief. We all stared amazed as we beheld a tall half-dressed heathen mother just outside her door screaming at the top of her voice, as loud as her strong lungs would permit. She was beating her chest and telling all who could hear, of her great grief and of the good qualities of her sick child. We had at first supposed the little girl had passed away, but were told she was still alive.

The mother’s example was followed by a young girl of about twelve years. She was so full of grief she could hardly endure it, so she threw herself about in all directions. Many persons stood about looking on. Some of their native neighbors, both men and women, left their labors in the fields and walked to the home and looked into the sick-room. Then they sat down in silence and wept, too, helpless and hopeless. Ah, what a pitiful sight! None had a word to say; all felt the depression of grief that like a black pall rested down on that whole neighborhood. It looked as if the mother would go mad and really lose her mind. But after her throat and lungs gave out, she became quiet.

This was not the only occasion of such excitement and grief, however. For several days, at least once a day that mother and daughter came out of doors and made the same ado. Neighbors tried to quiet the poor grief-stricken mother, but of no avail. She would not be quieted as long as she had strength to wail. The father and son were perfectly quiet and unmoved. This continued for a week or more.

One morning we heard more wailing than usual. We all went to the windows, and from the second floor of our house we could see the stiff and lifeless form of the recent sufferer being slowly carried out of the house on the strong arms of the silent father. Quite a company of low-caste Hindus had gathered as usual to attend the funeral. There was no prayer, no priest, no thought of God or the life beyond the grave; only a great, dead silence. A life merely had come to an end. To the living it was a hopeless blank. The women wept and wailed. That strong-bodied heathen mother stood at her door and beheld that little group of men with a heart full of grief and sorrow, and not one ray of hope, not a drop of comfort from any source. Our own hearts were moved as we thought of the darkness and heartlessness of heathenism. As long as she could see the squad of men in the distance that mother stood and cried at the top of her voice. Then she fell exhausted, and only then did she give up. With a sigh we turned away from it all. But it was hard to set our minds again to duties. We had come face to face with that monster death, and felt its overcoming power in the very atmosphere of its heathen hopelessness.

But again the next morning at break of day that sad-hearted mother came out of her door, and fixing her gaze toward the distant place in the jungles, she lifted up her voice in bitter lamentations. This she repeated daily for several weeks, until we were tired of the sound. Finally I called her to my gate and asked her why she thus grieved. Her quick reply was that she was a poor woman. She had lost a large family of children, and the anger of God must be upon her. She had made sacrifices, consulted witch-doctors, and done all sorts of things, but all of no avail. Then in the simplest language I could command I urged her not to grieve; I told her that there was one God above; that there would be a resurrection day, and that if she would try to serve God and do right, some day she might be able to see all her children.

I question if her dull mind comprehended what I told her. Then I begged her not to make any more ado, for we were very weary and it did her no good whatever. She understood this at least, for I heard her tell her neighbors what the sahib had said to her, and she has been silent since that conversation.

In completing the thought, Paul said, “Wherefore comfort one another with these words.”

The above is but a faint glimpse into what we feel and behold among the heathen very often.

An Interesting Letter From a Brahman Boy

By L. J. Burgess

L. J. BURGESS

FATEH RAM was one of the first boys who came to our school in Garhwal about four years ago. He is the son of a Brahman, is now about sixteen years of age, has bright black eyes and a pleasant, intelligent face. His ancestors have known no god but their idols of wood and stone. Since entering the school, Fateh Ram has taken a lively interest in the Bible studies, and has heard for

the first time the story of his Saviour.

I received a letter from this boy a few days ago, showing the interest he is taking in the school. It pleased me so much that I want the readers of the REVIEW to share it with me. I will send it just as he wrote it in English:—

“RESPECTED SIR: I am quite well here. I hope you will be the same by the grace of Almighty. I found your kind letter on the first of September. By reading this letter I felt so as if I saw you. It gives me a great pleasure and comfort. The work is going on all right, and the study is going well. Here are seven teachers and seventy boys in this school. The first moulvi [Urdu teacher] has left here and went away. Now we have another moulvi; he came from Najibabad. Now we have fees in our school. Some of the boys give fees and some work. I work for two hours, and by this I get a great power. We should not fear work. When the Adam was made, there was also work for him to do. We read Bible every day. This year we are learning about the resurrection.

“I will not go from this school. I will live here up to two or three years more, if you will be here. I love this true study of this school. Day by day the weather is growing cold. Our examination will be in the month of December. We will get vacation from the last December to last February.

“Now, sir, will you kindly tell my compliment to mem-sahib [madam]. I am looking forward, when I will see you again. I hope that very day will come soon when you will be with us. We are waiting for your arrival, as we are waiting for the arrival of Jesus. Please let me know exactly when you will come in India at Garhwal. I have a great longing to see you again. When you will be with us I will understand so, that I am in the new earth. I hope you will remember me in your true prayer. Good-by, sir, good-by.

“Your most obedient pupil, “FATEH RAM, Student VII class.”

Brother C. C. Belgrave is in charge of the Garhwal school at present. The rest of the teachers are Indians. Instruction is given in Urdu, Hindi, and English. The writer of the above letter has a fair knowledge of Hindi and Urdu and is now taking English. Let us hope and pray that he may give himself to the service of Christ to witness for him in the mountain villages of Garhwal.

Sanitarium, Cal.

The Message Advancing in India

By G. W. Pettit

G. W. PETTIT

AMID the blackness of Hinduism and Mohammedanism, which for ages has settled down over this land, there is much to impede the work of the missionary. Chief among these evils are the following: Caste, with all its blighting superstition, keeping men and women away from the light of the gospel; the purdah system, which separates very families and keeps the women away from society and in the grossest darkness, resulting in a life of misery, unhappiness, disease, and premature death; plurality of wives; and child marriage, with its perpetual widowhood. These, with the illiteracy of the masses (which is said to be ninety-five per cent) and the dreadful diseases, would cause one to stagger were it not for the mighty power of the Word of God.

Thank God, this Word has not lost its power even in India. In many parts of this sea of humanity the Word of Life is accomplishing modern-day miracles. Notwithstanding the depths of darkness, precious souls for whom Christ died are getting free from Satan’s snares, and today are among the most happy of India’s sons and daughters.

Not long ago while in south India, the writer had the pleasure of spending two weeks in one of our mission stations, giving instruction to a most loyal company of believers and interested friends from adjacent villages. A great change has taken place in their lives. The same message that saved you and made a different person of you, has wrought upon these hearts and made them loyal to the gospel. They love to sacrifice from their small incomes, meager as they are, to share with you in the joy of giving for the needy souls about them who are without light and hope to brighten the way.

A most solemn scene was impressed on my mind Friday night. At the setting of the sun, with tears of joy these dear souls entered the house of prayer with their hearts full of deep gratitude for the light of the truth, and reverently prostrated themselves before the Lord in prayer, and in many instances lay on the altar or at its foot a sacrifice which is a sacrifice indeed, to show their appreciation of the great sacrifice of Jesus in delivering them from bondage. They often bring half the food they are to have for the coming week. I saw poor widows on Sabbath placing their food on the altar, when we all knew that it meant they must go hungry for days. But this sacrifice must be accepted; for in this way they share with you in your sacrifice.

At the close of the ten days’ meeting some desired baptism. We called them aside to ask them some questions that we might better understand the individual cases. They showed by their answers that they had been thoroughly instructed by those in charge of the station. To give up their jewels, rings, bracelets, and all worldly adornment (this usually consists only of jewelry, some of which may be very crude) means no small sacrifice.

One cannot fully understand until he has been among them what it costs these souls to accept the message. It means to them so much more than it does to the Englishman, German, or American. To them it often means hard work for years, or doing without necessary food, or, in some instances, giving up the hard-earned savings of several generations, which have been handed down to them, and which are all worn around their necks, on their wrists, fingers, in the ears, or on the toes and ankles. So while some may have five hundred or even one thousand dollars’ worth of gold on their persons, yet they otherwise may be suffering poverty. Still they are willing to undergo almost anything for the luxury of jewels and to satisfy the desire of the unconverted heart.

I am enclosing a picture Mrs. Pettit and I took with difficulty, that you might the better understand what is meant by giving up jewelry. In one view you see three native women who are highly respected in the community, who have been attending our services over two years, and are fully in harmony with us save in the matter of giving up these marks of worldliness. Each of these women has upon her person gold amounting to perhaps $750. The other view presents five loyal Seventh-day Adventist sisters who one time wore these marks of worldliness, but have put them all away. These sisters are as true to the message as is the needle to the pole. All over this land God’s Word has won companies of believers who today stand with us and rejoice with us in the hope of the speedy return of Jesus.

Hang Not Thy Harp Upon the Willows

By Mrs. L. R. Reynolds

MRS. L. R. REYNOLDS

HUSH thy complaint, sad heart! nor go hang Thy harp upon the willow-tree. I’ll sing the songs that once I sang Before affliction came to me. Though I may never march again, If others march to song I sing And I make brave the hearts of men, My weakness then would lose its sting.

Though I may not in battle-line The heat and conflict with them share, O happy lot could it be mine To chant them on to victory there! While tenting here I shall be blest If I can make my comrades strong By any helpful words expressed, Or cheer with rhythm of a song.

My simple song may not be sweet As those they sing with merrier heart. Though but a ground-bird, yet ’tis meet That I should do my little part; Some soul may need encouragement, The little help that I can give; O, then, to be God’s instrument To help that fainting one to live!

While I may feel a biting loss, And some on weakness look with scorn, If I but bravely bear my cross There’ll be for me more rose than thorn.

Hush thy complaint, sad heart! nor hang Thy harp upon the willow-tree. I’ll sing the songs that once I sang Before affliction came to me.

Wichita, Kans.

The Mission of the Pansies

By Mrs. H. H. Miller

MRS. H. H. MILLER

The warm August day was slowly drawing to a close. The heat had been oppressive, the flowers had drooped upon their stems, and the leaves of the trees were hanging lifeless, while weary toilers hoped and prayed for rain.

Lying wearily upon a narrow bed in a great hospital in one of our Western cities was a Christian woman whose faith was being severely tested, and who for a moment, as it were, was tempted to rebel against God, who had permitted the present circumstances. For many weeks she had lain in the same little bed in the same room, with not much cheer or comfort and not a familiar face to look into her own. This sultry day she turned her face toward the wall and cried out in agony, “Has God forgotten to be gracious? O my boys, how mama wants to see your bright faces!”

Mrs. Lee was indeed nearly discouraged. Failing health had compelled her to leave her home and her family, which consisted of her husband and three sons, the oldest about twelve years of age, and go to the hospital for necessary treatment. Mr. Lee was a Christian, and toiled early and late to support his family; but from lack of means, Mrs. Lee had been obliged to go alone and remain alone. She was naturally very courageous, but the intense suffering of the past few weeks, together with the thought that many more must pass before she could return to her family, caused her to feel somewhat rebellious. Then, too, the heat was so great it seemed to be taking what little strength she had left. Twice each week came loving, cheery letters from Mr. Lee and the boys; but tonight she was thinking of home and of her flowers, especially the pinks and pansies, and the faces of her husband and children came before her so vividly that again she turned her face and wept.

Soon she heard footsteps approaching, and raising her tear-stained lids, she saw a picture that seemed to cool the air and bring encouragement at the first glance. The white-capped nurse softly stepped up to her bed, followed by a handsome lad who reminded her so much of her Charlie at home. His hat had been left outside, and in each hand he carried a large basket of beautiful pansies, which were made up into separate bouquets with a pretty floral card containing a verse of Scripture and an appropriate quotation tied upon each. The nurse quietly said, “We do not often admit a caller at this hour, but the superintendent said that such a fresh young face with beautiful flowers would cheer a whole roomful of sufferers after a day like this, and she said he might come to St. Luke’s ward to distribute his blossoms.” As the boy stepped forward, he said to Mrs. Lee, cheerily and without a trace of embarrassment: “Mama said she thought the patients in this hospital ought to have something sent to them to remind them of the goodness of God and to encourage them to trust in him; so she has sent you some pansies and perfume, and I am happy to bring them, too.” And taking out a most lovely bouquet, he presented it to Mrs. Lee, together with a bottle of the rarest perfume, which had been hidden beneath the pansies. Tears nearly blinded her eyes as she whispered to the boy, “Come back here after you distribute your flowers.”

One by one the bouquets were handed to the sick ones, and finally he came back to Mrs. Lee. The nurse, who had remained sitting by Mrs. Lee, told the boy he could stay five minutes, “for,” said she, “Mrs. Lee has boys, too, and she will love to look at you.” So he sat down, and, taking her hand in his own, he said, “Mama said that perhaps some mother would be here who was hungry to see her boy, and that maybe she would be glad to see me.” Then telling her of his mother and of their greenhouse filled with flowers, and receiving Mrs. Lee’s thanks for the gifts, he arose to go; but suddenly he stopped, and addressing the nurse, said, “O, I have something else to give them! Mama made several powders which she thought might do the patients good, and she said for you to look at one and see if you were willing for me to leave them.” Stepping to the window, the nurse examined one of the powders, and with a peculiar smile, she replied: “Yes, they are good for our patients; you may pass them, and then you must say good night.” Leaving four or five with each patient, he said, “Mama wants you to keep these until the flowers have withered, then take one at three in the afternoon and another at eight in the evening, and in a few days I will come with some more flowers.” Then bowing and saying “Good night,” the manly little fellow went from the room.

Not until then did Mrs. Lee take up her bouquet to really drink in its beauty; and as the bright-faced pansies looked at her as if to say, “Have faith in God,” she felt to reproach herself for asking if God had forgotten. Then turning the flowers around, she saw the card tied on with narrow white ribbon, and as if in answer to the thought that had been uppermost in her mind during the day, she read what was written below a little bouquet of lilies-of-the-valley: “I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee;” and underneath was the quotation:—

“Fearest thou that sometimes the Father hath forgot? When the clouds around thee gather, doubt him not.”

The question of the day was answered. God had not forgotten, and he had promised never to leave her, and her lonely heart was comforted. Then, as she was growing very weary, and as the nurse had returned to arrange her bed for the night, she thought of the little bottle of perfume and wondered what kind it was, when upon the bottle she read, “French Carnation.” Strange, the very perfume she had longed for during the day! Then again she thought of the providence of God in sending the comfort of the evening, and with the thought, “He will never leave thee, nor forsake thee,” she fell asleep.

The following morning, how refreshing it seemed to Mrs. Lee, after the nurse had made her as comfortable as possible, and the pansies had been brought in from a cool place where they had been taken for the night, to smell the odor of the carnation, to look at the pansies, and, more than all, to meditate upon the Scripture on the card.

As she was slowly turning her pansies around, she saw written upon the back

of the card a name which she had not seen before,—“From Mrs. Dr. Schuyler.” Questioning her nurse, she found that Mrs. Schuyler was a wealthy woman who had drunk the cup of sorrow to its dregs, yet whose life was filled with good deeds and little acts of kindness, especially to hospital sufferers.

“She has never sent flowers here before,” said the nurse, “although she has sent them to many other hospitals. She has lately added this hospital to her list, so we shall hear from her again.”

The pansies were short-lived, and after a time had to be taken away. But the sweet fragrance of the kindly act will live as long as memory lasts, and the floral card was carefully laid away as a choice keepsake.

Still another day passed without rain, and at three in the afternoon some one remembered the powders. “Why, ’tis not medicine at all!” said one. “Our powders are verses of Scripture and wise counsel.”

“Better than medicine for me,” said another.

Wearily Mrs. Lee reached out and picked up one of her powders, and upon opening it saw beautifully written:—

“Tribulation worketh patience; and patience, experience; and experience, hope.”

“Why should I start at the plow of my Lord, that maketh deep furrows on my soul? I know he is no idle husbandman. He purposeth a harvest.”

“Indeed, better than medicine,” murmured Mrs. Lee, with a little whispered prayer that God would reward Mrs. Schuyler for her thoughtfulness.

Over in another corner was an orphan girl, who read with quivering lips:—

“When my father and my mother forsake me, then the Lord will take me up.”

Near the orphan was an erring one who had left home and mother, and who had found from bitter experience that the way of the transgressor is hard. Was it chance, you ask, when with moistened eyes she read:—

“If any man sin, we have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous.”

“My mistakes his free grace will cover; My sins he will wash away; And the feet that shrink and falter, Shall walk through the gates of day.”

“Our Friend,” she whispered, “in this unfriendly world!”

And to singing Jessie, who was the joy of the room in spite of her pain, and who often sang a little song to try to help some one worse than herself, came a ray of cheer as she read:—

“Then, nestle your hand in your Father’s, And sing, if you can, as you go; Your song may cheer some one behind you Whose courage is sinking low; And if your lips do quiver, God will love you the better so.”

The basket of flowers, perfume, and powders did its work well, and that evening, as the clouds grew dark with the approaching storm, when the thunder pealed and the lightning flashed, the patients in St. Luke’s ward found sweet comfort in thinking of the great Father who would care for his own; and they knew that when the storms of life were raging and the billows of trial and bereavement were dashing high, the voice of the Master could be heard, saying, “It is I; be not afraid.”

Many were the lessons of patience and trust which were learned during those weeks of suffering; and once a week Charlie Schuyler came with his basket of different kinds of flowers, and messages from his mother.

Slowly the weeks wore away, and one beautiful morning in the fall, when the earth was covered with a variegated carpet of delicately tinted autumn leaves, Mrs. Lee started for home. The thought of the loved ones awaiting her gave her strength. And when the train drew in at the home station and she saw her husband and the boys standing on the platform, she whispered to herself, as her eyes filled with tears, “God is faithful; he did not forget.” And as she related her hospital experience from time to time, she never forgot to mention the mission of the pansies and powders, and how plainly the pansies reproved her for not having more faith in God. And months afterward, when she had grown stronger, many beautiful pansies from her little garden found their way to sick ones, and lonely hearts were cheered by the silent language of the flowers.

“An early flower bestowed unasked, A light and cautious tread, A voice to softest whispers hushed To spare an aching head,— O, things like these, though little things, The purest love disclose, As fragrant atoms in the air Reveal the hidden rose!”

Foreign Mission Seminary.

He Wanted to Learn

MORE than one hundred years ago a stout, freckle-faced, awkward boy of eighteen years, dressed in a ragged waistcoat and short breeches, without stockings or shoes, rapped one evening at the door of a humble cottage in northern England, and asked to see the village schoolmaster. When that person appeared, the boy said modestly, “I should like to attend your evening school.”

“And what do you wish to study?” asked the teacher, roughly.

“I want to learn to read and write, sir,” answered the lad.

The schoolmaster glanced at the boy’s homely face and rough clothes scornfully, and said: “Very well, you may attend, but an awkward, bare-legged laddie like you would be better doing something else than learning his letters.” Then he closed the door in the lad’s face.

This boy was the son of the fireman of a pumping-engine in a Northumberland coal-mine, and was born one hundred and thirty-two years ago—on June 9, 1781, to be exact. His birthplace was a hovel, with a clay floor, mud walls, and bare rafters. When he was five years old, he began to work for his living by herding cows in the daytime and barring up the gates at night. As he grew older, he was set to picking stones from the coal, and after that to driving a horse which drew coal from the pit. He went half-fed and half-clothed.

When he called at the schoolhouse, he was plugman of a pumping-engine, and, though he knew nothing of reading or writing, he had studied the engine until he had a complete knowledge of the machine. He was able to take it apart and make any ordinary repairs.

Not discouraged by the advice given him by the schoolmaster, he attended the evening school. At the end of about two years he had learned all this school could teach him. He conceived the plan of constructing a steam-engine. It took him a long time, but at the age of forty he had made several engines, and was known as a successful and energetic engineer, and was called upon to build long and difficult lines of railroad.

But his locomotives were too slow; he wanted them to run faster. He proposed to build one that would run at the rate of twelve miles an hour! Everybody laughed; some thought he was crazy. One gentleman, who considered himself very wise, said to him: “Suppose you invent an engine capable of running nine or ten miles an hour, and suppose, while it is running, a cow should stray upon the track. Will not that be a very awkward circumstance?”

“I should think it might be very awkward—for the cow,” he answered.

Well, he succeeded in making his locomotive, and at a trial which took place near Liverpool it attained the unprecedented speed of fourteen miles an hour! By making certain improvements, this same engine, the “Rocket,” was made to go at the speed of thirty miles an hour. People laughed no longer.

He was invited as a consulting engineer to foreign countries, and wealth flowed upon him. Philosophers sought his friendship, and his king offered him knighthood, but he preferred to remain plain George Stephenson. That is the name of this “awkward laddie,” who became the inventor of the locomotive.

—The Myrtle.

Not Alone

By Mrs. Mary K. Emerson

MRS. MARY K. EMERSON

Awake to beauty, joy, and love, Then sweet the echoes from above That tell me oft, in gentle tone, You're not alone, no, not alone.

Behold the wild flower in its bloom Beams forth in beauty, not in gloom; While round it murmuring zephyrs own, You're not alone, no, not alone.

For He who marks the sparrow’s fall, Hath loving care o’er great and small; And this assurance doth he send, “Lo, I am with thee to the end.”

Then let the echoes from the skies Awaken joy, suppress those sighs, And help proclaim, in joyful tone, I’m not alone, no, not alone.

Philadelphia, Pa.

The Central California Camp-Meeting

By J. S. James

THIS meeting, the third since the organization of the conference, was held October 30 to November 9, at Laton, Cal., a small town in the San Joaquin Valley, twenty-two miles south of Fresno, on the Santa Fe Railway. In former years this conference had held its camp-meeting in the early spring, but on account of both the General Conference session and the fall council coming this year, it was thought advisable to defer the camp-meeting until after these.

It is rare indeed to find a location, camp conveniences, weather, and other material conditions so agreeably in harmony as they were on this occasion, all of which paved the way for and made more certain the spiritual feast which followed. The camp was located on the picnic grounds of Laton, the use of which, together with good pipe water, was given free by the citizens. On these

grounds covered by a carpet of soft grass, beneath a number of giant oaks, were pitched one hundred and ten family tents, besides four large tents for public services. A good variety of well-prepared food was served on the cafeteria plan in the club house belonging to the grounds. From four hundred to five hundred persons occupied tents during the greater part of the meeting. On the last Sabbath it was estimated that eight hundred of the twelve hundred members of the conference were present. The residents of Laton, including the business men of all classes, showed an interest in the meetings by their attendance.

From the very first day the blessing of the Lord was manifest, and flowed in richer and fuller streams as the meetings continued. There was no excitement, but a deep, gentle moving of the Spirit of God upon hearts, pointing out sin and wrong, leading to repentance and confession, and a determination to live more in harmony with God's message for this time. Considerable instruction and exhortation were given by various laborers concerning the many snares which Satan has set for the destruction of this particular generation, more particularly in the matter of the prevailing fashions in dress and adornment, evil associations, unwholesome reading, desire for worldly gain, and unfaithfulness in the home life.

It was encouraging to greet such a large number of young people at the meeting. Earnest efforts were made by Elder N. P. Neilsen and others in their behalf, and not without success. The conference felt that it was under sacred obligations to provide better educational facilities for the youth within its boundaries; and to discharge these obligations a committee of nine persons was chosen to act in connection with the conference committee in choosing a location for an intermediate school, furnishing plans and specifications for building and equipment, and outlining a working policy, the same to be presented at the spring conference in regular session in May, 1914, for ratification.

In addition to the regular conference laborers, the following ministers were present to assist in the meetings: Elders E. E. Andross, E. W. Farnsworth, F. M. Burg, C. L. Taggart, and Henry Schultz, and the writer. Brethren James Cochran and G. C. Hoskin represented the Pacific Press at the book-tent, and the home missionary and canvassing work was represented by Brethren J. R. Ferren and A. A. Cone. It was a privilege and a pleasure for the writer to present various phases of the needs of the foreign work, to which there was a hearty response on the part of all.

On the last Sabbath, at the eleven o'clock hour Elders Andross and Farnsworth led in a consecration service, which resulted in almost the entire camp dedicating themselves anew to God. Many among the children and youth made their first start in Christian service at this meeting, backsliders were reclaimed, and strangers in the camp decided to cast their lot with God's people. Twelve on the grounds were baptized, while others preferred to be baptized in the churches where they live.

The attendance at the Sabbath-school the last Sabbath was 552, and the collection for the two Sabbaths amounted to $266.19. Sales at the book-tent reached nearly $800. About $1,700 was raised for the work in India. The entire expense of the meeting was made up from the public collections.

Truly the Lord's blessing is being poured out on those who are prepared to receive it. The foes that confront this cause from without are little to be feared when compared with Satan's purpose to work within the human heart for the deadening of spiritual life and the blasting of eternal hopes.

On the last morning of the meeting the whole camp assembled for a praise and farewell service. The entire meeting was declared by many to be the best in their experience. May it result in gathering much fruit for the final harvest, which is soon to come.

J. S. JAMES.

A Tent Series in San Jose, Cal.

By J. W. McCord; A. S. Marchus

No doubt the readers of the REVIEW will be glad to hear of the triumphs of the message in San Jose during the past few months. Five weeks before the San Jose camp-meeting, Evangelists A. S. Marchus and A. Nelson, Prof. G. W. Rine, and Brother L. K. Dickson began a short series of meetings in order to prepare for the camp-meeting. These meetings created considerable interest, and not only produced fruit, but also contributed to the success of the camp-meeting and the series of meetings that followed. At the close of the camp-meeting, the writers, assisted by Sisters Morrison, Green, Clark, and LaFrance, with Brother Munson in charge of the music and Bible work, began a series of meetings in a large tent in the center of San Jose, about a mile and a half from the camp-ground.

The manner in which we secured the tent site proved beyond a doubt that the Lord had gone before us. This fine lot was in fire-district No. 1; and when we applied for it, the owners were willing enough to rent it, but the city officials would not permit us to use it. At the close of the camp-meeting Elders Andross and McCord had an interview with the mayor with reference to securing this lot, but to no avail. To make matters worse, the papers reported the fact that the mayor had refused his permission for us to erect a tent there. The third time, however, we enlisted the help of influential friends, and through their advocacy we at last prevailed.

Before the camp-meeting the workers felt impressed with the possibilities of the tent site, and the results have more than justified our expectations.

This series has lasted twelve weeks and has been the longest and the most successful in the ministry of the workers. Up to date, sixty-five have taken their stand for the Lord and his Sabbath, and the harvest is not yet finished. Each week new Sabbath-keepers are being added to our number, and the prospect is still bright that others will be added as a result of this series of meetings. We have had two baptismal services thus far, and expect to hold another this week.

While our Sunday night attendance varied from five hundred to six hundred, the general average for the eighty-five meetings of the series amounted to above three hundred a night. The offerings were good, and although our expenses were heavy, the nightly donations more than covered them. The expenses for the twelve weeks amounted to $541.28, and the donations for the same period totaled $578.97, leaving a balance of $37.69.

Last, but surely not least, we wish to speak of the perfect unity that has prevailed among the workers. This blessed unity; the hard work and the faithful attendance of the local church and its pastor, Elder A. E. Place; the help of the papers so readily given in publishing a daily synopsis of the sermons; and the all-sufficient grace of the Holy Spirit have made this success possible. Truly the Lord is good to his people in these last days.

Sin abounds on every hand, but his grace more abundantly abounds. Sickness and death are ever near, but the Lord graciously protects his children. Most gladly and reverently the workers in San Jose lay these summer sheaves at his feet; and while thanking him for the privilege of service, with grateful hearts we acknowledge the Lord as the source of all power, and for whatever good that may have been accomplished by these meetings in San Jose we joyfully return to the Chief Shepherd of the sheep all the glory.

J. W. McCORD, A. S. MARCHUS.

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