p. 11 | Signs of the Times, Vol. 28, No. 33. (8/13/1902)

THE LITTLE ARMCHAIR.

By Margaret E. Sangster

Nobody sits in the little armchair; It stands in a corner dim; But a white-haired mother, gazing there, And yearningly thinking of him, Sees through the dust of long ago The bloom of her boy's sweet face, As he rocks so merrily to and fro, With a laugh that cheers the place.

Sometimes he holds a book in his hand, Sometimes a pencil and slate; And the lesson is hard to understand, And the figures hard to mate; But she sees the nod of the father's head, So proud of his little son, And she hears the words so often said, "No fear for our little one."

They were wonderful days, the dear, sweet days, When a child with sunny hair Was hers to scold, to kiss, and to praise, At her knee in the little chair. She lost him back in her busy years, When the great world caught the man, And he strode away past hopes and fears To his place in the battle's van.

And now and then, in a wistful dream, Like a picture out of date, She sees a head with a golden gleam Bent over a pencil and slate. And she lives again the happy day, The days of her young life's spring, When the armchair stood just in the way, The center of everything. —Margaret E. Sangster.

PRICE OF MY BOY.

BEFORE giving you my price, perhaps a brief description of the boy may not be out of place. He is now just entering upon his teens, the same dear little boy whom we have nursed and dandled upon our knees, who has been the object of our love and devotion from his boyhood up to the present, and is now the pride of his father and the hope of his mother. He is in good physical health, with mental faculties all alert, quick to discern between right and wrong, easily imbibing correct moral principles. In short, he is a fair specimen physically, mentally, and morally of the youth of this community, which, in its organized capacity, treats him and all others as proper subjects for barter and sale.

Perhaps you may ask by whom are they put in the market? Who are the buyers? When, where and how is this infernal traffic carried on against the laws of God and man? Well, they are put on the market by the lawmaking power of this country, this State, and this municipality, by fixing a price, a valuable consideration—a license fee—upon the payment of which a man is permitted to do that which he had no right to do until he bought the privilege.

The permission to set up bar and sell liquors in this way means the enticing, ensnaring, enslaving, the moral degradation, the mental wreck, the physical ruin, and death of somebody's boy in the vicinity where it exists. It means a chance at a hundred boys, with a certainty that more than one will be ensnared and degraded. When the license is granted the grantors know this fact, and yet for the consideration the permission is granted—the license is given. Is not this clearly a sale of somebody's boy, together with his health, his integrity, his intelligence, his moral sensibilities, his very life, and all there is of him or in him? And while it is a sale of somebody's boy—who is to be sacrificed to fill the capacious maw of the monster which thrives upon misery, degradation and woe—it is the establishment of a

shooting-alley in my neighborhood, and my boy (being human, and no better than the thousands who have fallen) is set up as a target, at whom this skillful, fiendish archer is permitted to shoot his poisoned arrows, with an absolute certainty of bringing some one down.

I am asked by the lawmakers of what is called a Christian people, how much I want for my consent to this bargain, this compact with Satan and agreement with hell? How high shall the license be? What shall be the fee? O, shame! that in an enlightened age such a question can be asked! I answer, O ye rumsellers, go gather in your ill-gotten gains for a thousand years, pile up your gold until it is so high that it casts dark and dismal shadows over the highest mountain-peak, and lay it at my feet, and you have not tempted me. Go, bring from among your kindred as many victims as you have made in ours, as many desolate homes, as many bitter tears, as many heart sobs—eye for eye, tooth for tooth, blood for blood, soul for soul—and you have only strengthened my resolution not to sell.

You don't want to buy at such a price? But wait; I have not told you all. Before you get my signature to this hellish compact, you must sever my right arm from my body, disconnect it from my heart and brain, before these fingers will sign your league with death. This is my price, Mr. Rumseller, and these are my terms. No sale, you say? Very good. No sale, no saloon—that is, no license—that is prohibition.—Anon.

THE CHILD

By Mrs. Mary Wood-Allen, M.D.

X. THE ADOLESCENT.

In early childhood the queries of the little mind arise from an earnest desire for knowledge. As he advances to maturity he comes to feel new impulses which, arising in his own being, create in him a desire for experience. This is the critical time in life for both boys and girls. Left to themselves, they are in great danger, through their very ignorance. They may be led astray, and fall into sin unconscious that it is sin. And so their whole future lives and the lives of their descendants will be blighted by the poisonous touch of impurity, when a true knowledge given in due season might have saved them.

During childhood there is naturally no inner impulse leading to personal investigation. Sex forms no part of the life of the normal child; and impure desires must arise from some abnormal conditions, resulting from local irritations, from evil instruction, or from inherited impulses.

But as he approaches maturity there awaken new powers, those powers which shall bind him to the race, which shall make him of racial value, and give him his widest influence. He does not understand this. He can not be expected to understand. But he begins to be swayed by new impulses that fill him with unrest. His whole being is in a state of evolution, which, if not wisely guided, may become revolution. Through the influence of this unfolding, he may begin to grow very rapidly, sometimes increasing as much as six inches in a year. He broadens in figure, and is oppressed by the amount of new physical material he has to manage, and so acts awkwardly. His increase of mental breadth oppresses him also with opinions, numerous, hastily formed, and often aggressively unruly. His spiritual nature is aroused; and he begins to be a dreamer, a seer of great visions which he conceals in his own heart, and is embarrassed if by any means they are made known to the world. This young creature, boy or girl, is in the most impressionable stage of existence. Just now the nature may be most easily influenced for good or ill. The majority of criminals in our land are between 16 and 21 years of age. And on the other hand the majority of religious converts are made between the same ages. These are the years when young people need the truest sympathy, the wisest guidance.

The girl at this time of life is better understood than the boy. Her mother knows the approaching physical crisis and watches over her with tender care. But the crisis in the boy's life is as great, if not greater. The inner forces are more compelling, the outward temptations more seductive. Just at this time the boy needs all that family love can create around him of understanding and affectionate care. And yet this is too often the time when he is left to the mercy of outside influences. Parents and older brothers and sisters have little patience with his eccentricities. They snub his opinions, they ridicule his ambitions, they laugh at his dawning gallantry. They treat him as a child while they expect from him the conduct of the man.

The boy at this period is truly to be pitied. He feels the impulses of the man; but has still the judgment of the child; and no one appears to understand him. He does not understand himself; and no one troubles to explain him to himself.

No one? Ah yes. There are those ever at hand only too willing to teach him truths in an untrue way; to give him a wrong valuation of his priceless riches of manhood; and to instruct him in spendthrift ways which may bankrupt him even in early life.

In view of these facts which no man of experience can gainsay, would it not be far wiser if parents themselves were the guides of their children through the mazes of the "land of the teens"? if mothers and fathers united in being the special teachers of their sons and daughters?

I have heard that when a Jewish boy reaches this critical period his father and mother take him apart by themselves for a day of special instruction. The father gives him the knowledge of his own organism and its sacred functions, and then the mother teaches him of purity of thought and life. Whether this custom actually exists or not, it is a picture of what should be.

No boy could come from such a sacred hour without higher ideals, truer self-respect, more appreciation of womanhood, and a deeper reverence for motherhood.

Feeling sure of the knowledge he has received as authoritative, he will not be curious to receive information from less accredited sources, and the impure ideas of his less fortunate companions will have no charm for him.

One mother, feeling that she must talk to her young son, performed the duty with fear and trembling but with earnest prayer. When she had ended, the boy left the room without a word and the mother's heart sank, for she feared that she had made a mistake. Some days later he suddenly said to her, "Mother, I don't care to talk to the boys about those things since you talked to me and explained them." Then the mother's heart glowed with thankfulness.

Another mother, burdened with the thought of her duty, prepared herself for it by deep study of physiological facts and earnest prayer for divine guidance. The boy was home from school with a felon, and she consecrated a day to the sacred duty. After her breakfast dishes were done, she called him to her, and together they read and talked and studied and wept and prayed. At the close of this holy day, the boy threw his arms around his mother's neck and said, "O mother, I wish all the boys could have just such teaching. It would save many of them from wickedness, as I know it will save me." And this testimony is duplicated on all sides. Boys desire knowledge, but they love it purely given. It is not because they innately desire impurity that they listen so attentively to wrong teaching.

"The thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts." The aspirations of the boy are grander than you imagine. He wants the best, and will thank you if you give it to him. One boy of fifteen, who had read "Almost a Man," wrote me, "I want to thank you who have saved my soul." Is it not worth while to save a soul? And will not the loss of souls be laid at the door of parents who refuse or neglect to give wise teaching to their children?

MOTHERS' LOVE.

By Mrs. Fanny L. Fancher

[Mrs. Fanny L. Fancher, in N. Y. Observer.]

Who can scale the highest height, Who can sound the lowest depth, Of the love above all others? Unchanging and omnipotent Is the love God giveth mothers.

Dodge Center, Minn.

IMPORTANCE OF SUNSHINE AND PURE AIR.

By D. H. Kress, M. D.

[D. H. Kress, M. D. in Australasian Good Health.]

THERE is probably no disease that at present is causing more alarm than consumption. Everywhere it is becoming recognized as the most terrible of all modern plagues, and the one most to be dreaded. It steals noiselessly into the home, carrying off its members one by one, until often entire families are wiped out.

The prevalence of this disease among animals is now so well recognized that it seems almost needless to refer to it. In England, dairy carts go through the streets advertising NON-TUBERCULAR MILK; the medical journals and daily papers can not be read without having the attention constantly called to some new phase of the dangers threatened from the disease, so that even he that runneth is compelled to read. The prevalence of consumption among pigs has recently been commented upon by investigators. They attribute it to the fact that these animals are usually fed on skimmed milk from infected cattle. This has also called attention to previous observations hitherto unexplained,—that intestinal tuberculosis is much more common among the children of the well-to-do than of the poor, which has undoubtedly been due to the fact that the children of the rich are usually artificially reared and fed on cows' milk, while the poor nurse their offspring.

It is now universally agreed among medical men that the great mortality among infants in our large cities during the warm season of the year is due to the use of infected milk, the warm weather favoring the growth and multiplication of the germs in the milk. These germs and their poisonous products are to be found in butter and cheese, as well as in milk.

In some investigations made by myself several years ago, I was surprised to notice the prevalence of tuberculosis among chickens. On one farm where 1,000 chickens were kept, fully one-third showed evidence of disease, and the dead and dying were seen everywhere. The coops were in a most unhygienic and unsanitary condition. Living in the midst of filth, and fed on fermented and decaying foods, what but disease could be expected? Even the freshly-laid eggs of hens have been found to contain tuberculous germs.

To those who observe all the laws of life the assurance is given, "Thou shalt not be afraid . . . for the pestilence that walketh in darkness." The importance of sunlight as a preventive cannot be overestimated. Sunlight is destructive to all disease germs, and is a carrier of life and energy to the human body. Germs thrive only in damp, dark places. It is therefore important to cut down the shrubbery and trees surrounding houses, preventing the sun's rays from reaching them. It is also necessary to draw aside the curtains, keep the blinds well up, and welcome the warm, life-giving rays of the sun.

Pure air is another essential. It has recently been discovered that it takes several hours longer to destroy germs exposed to the direct rays of the sun without a circulation of pure air than with it.

Professor Axe has recently reported an examination of nine herds of dairy cows. Out of this number, forty-one per cent. of the animals had tuberculosis. Two of the herds were entirely free from the disease, while in another herd ninety per cent. were diseased. Upon inquiry it was found that the herds that were free from the disease were kept constantly in the open air, winter and summer, while the herd showing a disease percentage of ninety was kept constantly confined in a dark, ill-ventilated stable.

Open windows mean closed doors to disease and doctors. The air, however, in order to be of value, must be carried freely to the tissues, and this necessitates exercise.

There is no doubt that by welcoming the sunlight and plenty of pure air into our homes night and day, and by an intelligently selected dietary of pure foods, composed of cereals, nuts, vegetables, and fruits properly prepared, taking plenty of open-air exercise sufficiently brisk to cause expansion of the lungs, thus increasing their capacity to take in the breath of life, this disease may be avoided.

GINGER UP.

GINGER up! No use repinin'; Behind th' clouds the sun is shinin'. Road may seem both long and dreary; Days o' toil may make you weary; Just look out for silver linin'— Ginger up! An' quit your whinin'.

Ginger up! Don't look so fearful! Costs no more for actin' cheerful. Go to work with whistle ringin'; If you can't whistle, go t' singin'. Life with sorrow isn't near full— Ginger up! An' don't be tearful.

Ginger up! An' get a hustle; You can win out if you rustle. Grab a root and keep a holdin'; Stretch your arms instead o' foldin'. Say you'll give th' world a tussle— Ginger up! An' use your muscle.

Ginger up! An' keep a trying'; Waste o' time t' talk o' dyin'. Be a man an' not a monkey; Show you're full o' grit, an' spunky. Quit your mournin' an' your sighin'— Ginger up! An' go a-flyin'! —Anon.

MODELS OF JERUSALEM.

THERE is to be exhibited at the St. Louis Exposition in 1904 a set of models of the various temples of Jerusalem. The models are the life-work of the archeologist Dr. Schick, who made a thirty-years' study of the temple area of the city of the Jews, reproducing on a small scale all the various temples of Jerusalem as he considered them to be. These will include the Temple of Solomon, the Temple of Herod, the Church of Justinian, and the Mosque of Omar. The Mosque will show in its architecture traces of all the phases of its ownership,—Byzantine, Crusader, and Saracen.

OPEN YOUR EYES AND TELL US WHY.

You can see any day a white horse; did you ever see a white colt? How many different kinds of trees grow in your neighborhood, and what are they good for? Why does a horse nip grass backward, and a cow forward? Why does a hop vine wind one way, and a bean vine another? Where should a chimney be larger, at top or bottom, and why? Why does a horse when tethered with a rope unravel it in grazing, while a cow twists it into a kinky knot? Why do leaves turn upside down just before a rain?—Selected.

Old Indian War Pensions

Congress has just passed a law granting pensions to the survivors and to the widows of deceased soldiers of the Oregon, Washington, and California Indian Wars of 1847 to 1856. Full information will be sent by BYINGTON & WILSON, No. 728 Seventeenth St., Washington, D. C., or Branch Office, No. 442 Parrott Building, San Francisco, Cal. Fees limited by law.

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"AS MUCH AS IN ME IS."

By John Nevins Anderson

IN these simple words the apostle Paul consecrates himself to the evangelization of the Roman metropolis. It is not a burst of fitful enthusiasm, but a sober, yet profound utterance of one, who, having counted the cost, under a solemn conviction of duty, deliberately weighs out the price of the enterprise. The consecration is no less simple than unconditional and entire. It has in it no if's nor but's; nor does he stop to estimate or consider the issue of this great undertaking. In view of his past labors and successes as a Gospel herald, he might very naturally assert a bold confidence as to the outcome of his mission to Rome; but waiving this and all other considerations he looks over that vast field as it expands before him, presenting great opportunities with corresponding responsibilities, and his whole being swells with emotion constraining him to utter the profound sentence, "So, as much as in me is, I am ready to preach the Gospel to you that are at Rome also." The enterprise is gigantic, and Paul resolves to throw into it every power of his being.

This consecration of Paul is both unique and ideal, presenting to us a true conception of our individual responsibility and the measure of our self-giving. It is here reduced to its simplest terms by the elimination of all factors except the individual messenger and his mission. Paul's language is, "I am a debtor" to humanity, so then "as much as in me is." However keenly Paul may have felt the responsibility of the mother church or of the other apostles, all this is waived if not forgotten as he conceives himself to be the responsible debtor, not to one people or two, but to the race. By some mysterious transaction (evidently well understood by Paul) he has contracted a debt which places him under obligation to all his fellow-men; and to discharge this debt he pledges to give as much as in him is.

"As much as in me is." How simple the thought is, and yet how comprehensive and inclusive. Paul had rare native abilities, a superior education, a national reputation both politically and religiously, and over and above all, he possessed a wonderfully magnetic life full of love and enthusiasm for Christ and humanity. All these and whatever else could be turned to account, he now dedicates and consecrates to the discharge of his debt.

In fulfilling this pledge the apostle Paul endures untold hardships—mob violence, imprisonment, extended travels, shipwreck, deprivation, the sting of apostasy and false brethren, and finally death itself; but there can be no doubt that he fulfilled, or, perhaps better, in fulfilling the full claims of his creditors. During the few years of his sublime and eventful life Paul never ceased to give all his powers to the salvation of his generation. And now that he is waiting his crown of glory, wherever the Gospel is preached, there by his personal testimony, his patient, intense sufferings for the truth, and most of all by his divinely inspired letters of love and power, Paul is ever discharging his personal debt to humanity. Like the mighty ocean currents moving on from shore to shore, bathing in turn each continent, so the consecrated life of the apostle sweeps on through the generations till it shall reach the other shore.

As followers and ambassadors of the same Lord in common with Paul, our consecration, if it be full and permanent, can never fall short of the one here set forth. The personal consecration of Jesus, in whose steps we are called to walk, is expressed in the sentence, "I come to do thy will, O my God."

It was the fulfillment of this that led Him to exclaim, "I have a baptism to be baptized with, and how am I straightened till it be accomplished;" and in the hour of His supreme crisis it wrung from his shrinking humanity the plea that the cup of sacrificial death be allowed to pass from Him. This shows how absolutely His consecration involved not only His powers of mind and body, but the sacrifice of His very life, which both crowned and culminated His ministry, giving Him "a name which is above every name."

And this example He sets as a standard for us. He repeatedly affirms that the final test of discipleship is our willingness and readiness to lay down our lives for his sake. This has always been the measure of consecration by the faithful followers of Christ. So in all ages through the history of the Christian Church we read of a great host of martyrs who "loved not their lives unto death." Whether in life or in death, they gave as much as in them was. And this truth should come home to us as a people and as individuals with peculiar force, since we believe ourselves to be the possessors and the bearers of the most solemn Gospel message ever sent to the world. Are we not called to preach this Gospel of the kingdom in all the world for a witness unto all nations? And is not that preparatory to the consummation of all things earthly and the advent of our waiting Lord, who shall then take to Himself His kingdom and reign? And if Paul in the consciousness of his personal obligation and of the needs of the world could say, "As much as in me is," I am ready to go, is it not even more incumbent upon us to discern the world's needs, acknowledge our own responsibility, and in the language of Paul say in solemn earnestness, "As much as in me is," I am ready to go and do and be as my Lord shall direct.

With thousands and millions of souls in every continent still unwarned, our work is far from finished; we have in fact but just entered upon our labors. But when this Pauline consecration seizes every one of us, how the mighty power of God's salvation will be made perfect in our weakness. This problem of carrying the truth to the world is not one of money nor even of men, but of consecration. It is well for us to cast our eyes toward heaven and to read and interpret the tokens of Christ's coming, but it is infinitely more consistent for us to look with sympathetic eyes upon the "fields white already to harvest;" and realizing the great work before us, let us say in individual hearts, "As much as in me is," I am ready to go.

J. N. ANDERSON.

FAMINE RELIEF IN CHINA.

The Christian Herald's famine fund envoy to China seems to have found open hearts as well as open hands in his tour of North China with relief for the famine sufferers. Describing his progress and the attention paid him by Chinese officials and others, he says:—

“I have been received with the utmost courtesy and outspoken expressions of gratitude from the Chinese officials, and at times my progress has taken on almost the form of an ovation. Nothing could be more polite than the treatment accorded me by the mandarins. If I wanted an expert pony for the day's stage, I always received it. If donkeys had to be substituted for the heavy lumbering cart over the mountain roads, all I had to do was to ask for them, and I found them waiting in the courtyard early the next morning.

At the town of Shou-Yang, the Herald commissioner was met by an old official and by Chinese soldiers carrying the flags of the different regiments stationed in that prefecture. It was from this place

that Mr. Piggott, an English missionary, was taken handcuffed, with his wife and children, into Tai-Yuen to be murdered. As I review the odd procession, it seems evident to me that the inhabitants of Shou-Yang realize now that they committed a great crime and have no mercy to expect at the hands of foreigners. That a foreign newspaper should aid the starving ones of their country by sending bread instead of bullets, was the sort of return which they did not expect, but for which they wished to express their gratitude.

For more than fifty miles beyond Shou-Yang the villages are strangely dilapidated. Stone walls are crumbling and tiled roofs are falling to pieces. The inhabitants are clad in tatters and have the appearance of beggars. By the mandarins I was told the reason. A collection of tumble-down walls means that the opium habit has the village in its grip. Altho this awful vice claims thousands of victims every year all over the empire, the province of Shansi is perhaps the greatest sufferer. Its peculiarity here is that the habit overwhelms whole communities. Into a peaceful, contented village a supply of opium will be brought, and all the inhabitants will begin smoking it simultaneously. The motive at first is the charm of a new sensation, to break the monotony of village life. Soon, however, the habit becomes permanent, and the village is doomed. Men, women, and children alike are slaves of the imported drug. They eat little food, neglect their work, become slovenly in their habits, and practically devote their entire time to opium-smoking. The end is the death of the majority of the villagers, if not directly from the drug, from the exposure and neglect which follow in its wake. In every large city in Shansi there are several private hospitals and retreats for the cure of the opium habit. Overhead, in front of many of the Chinese drug stores, are signs announcing that “opium remedies are sold here.” The new governor of the province has recently issued an order that any mandarin who is addicted to the vile opium habit will be degraded from his rank.

On the walls of Tai-Yuen, capital of Shansi, are proclamations of eulogy from the governor of the province, praising the famine relief work of the Christians. It was in front of this governmental palace two years ago that forty-three Romanist and Protestant missionaries and their families were put to death by the Boxers or their official sympathizers. The governor who connived at or ordered this slaughter was among those who were ordered to be decapitated when China was making amends for the Boxer outrage. The new governor has had an excellent English education, speaks English fluently, and is more favorably inclined toward the Christians than his predecessor. “On his shoulders,” says the Herald’s representative, “has devolved the difficult task of settling the indemnity claims. He has performed it in a spirit of genuine sorrow for the crimes his countrymen have committed, and he has shown a real friendliness for Christians which has endangered his popularity with some of the ultra-conservatives, who still cherish the Chinese dislike of foreigners. His expressions of gratitude and surprise at the readiness of Americans to forgive would fill several columns of your paper. When his secretary called on me later, he said: ‘When we Chinamen think of last year, and then of what Americans are doing for us now, we want to hide our faces for shame.’”

ONLY A LITTLE BABY GIRL.

ONLY a little baby girl, dead by the river side; Only a little Chinese child, drowned in the floating tide; If she had only been a boy, they would have heard her cry, But she was just a baby girl, and so was left to die. There they have left her little form, floating upon the wave; She was too young to have a soul; why should she have a grave? There's many another little one perishing every day, Thrown by the road of the river side, flung to the beasts of prey. Is there a mother's heart to-night, clasping her precious child, Willing to leave these helpless lambs out on the desert wild? Is there a little Christian girl, happy in love and home, Living in selfish ease while they out on the mountain roam? Think of the little baby girls over in China land, Who seldom know a mother's love, or a father's guiding hand. Ask if there is not something more that even you can do; And if perhaps in China's land Jesus has need of you. Only a little baby girl, dead by the river side; Only a little Chinese child, drowned by the floating tide; But it has brought a vision vast, dark as a nation's woe. O, has it left some willing heart answering, "I will go"? —Selected.

A GENTLEMAN FROM CHINA.

TO ALL who have little hope for the future of the Chinese people and little faith in China missions, there should be brought a glimpse of Mr. Chow, the husband of one of the medical helpers in our Shanghai dispensary. He is now employed as interpreter and private secretary by a wealthy countryman of his, who is traveling in this country for his health. Would you think it strange that a high-bred American should prize the friendship of a Chinaman, and be eager to see him? But so I heard Miss Susie Burdick express herself when she knew that Mr. Chow was in this country. Dr. Rosa Palmberg thus describes a recent visit which she and her sister enjoyed:—

We spent five hours talking with him. He was very glad to see us. We talked Chinese a little. It was easy, and I enjoyed it so much, and I enjoyed him. I do wish you could meet him. He is enthusiastic for all that is good, hating all that is bad, energetic, quick, and wide awake. He is always thinking how he can benefit his people. He is devising plans for making money, too, and I hope he will be successful; for I am sure it will be well used. He is studying all about the building and management of railroads, expecting to have a chance to use the knowledge. While in New Orleans he studied the process of making cotton-seed oil. He intends to interest the rich men he knows in China in starting that industry in China.

The place where the bean oil, so extensively used in China, is made has been taken by the Russians. This cotton-seed oil is better, and can be made more cheaply. He is certain China is going to progress now—thinks the Boxer movement will result in blessing to the country ultimately. Bright, intelligent, and good, it would rejoice your heart to see how proud he is to be known as a Chinaman. He realizes that his country is badly represented by the laboring class here, and he wants people to know that he also comes from China, and that there are others like him. Not arrogantly proud, but just sensible, he would be a shining example to many Americans in good manners and manliness. He has studied all the questions of the day in this country. I can see that he has not an extraordinarily good opinion of everything in America, either, and one can not blame him. He recounted his advantages from his childhood up, the many ways which God had blessed him, and then said, "After God has been so good to me, I think it would be an awful thing if I did anything bad."

Whenever anyone tells you that China missions do not amount to anything, tell them about Mr. Chow. Tell them about his wife, Quay Yung, a member of our church, a bright, capable woman, who will soon be a doctor herself. Tell them that, whatever the statistics may show, Christianity is the one great power, which, working both directly and indirectly, is making for a new and better China. The reform elements, of which the anti-foot binding movement is an illustration, and of which Mr. Chow is an exponent, are only branches of the mustard tree, whose seed is the Gospel of Christ. Deep in the soil of that strange people has the seed been planted. The time will come when the birds of the air shall lodge in its branches.—Sabbath Recorder.

Names Death Cannot Kill

Good men must die, but death can not kill their names.

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