HELEN OF TROY bent over a table in the city of her nativity, and ironed, ironed, ironed hour after hour, all day long, silently pushing aside with red and swollen hands the polished white cuffs which found their way to every part of the civilized world. For the modern Helen was a "Troy laundry girl."
Had you told her that the work done by her hands was actually sent, not only to every part of her own land, but to Europe and the islands of the sea, she would have stared dully at you, without in the least comprehending the scope of her work. For in the curriculum of the school in which her education had been shaped, the only geography known was that of the streets. The whole world outside of Troy was labeled and set aside as "Unexplored territory."
The thoroughfare on which stood the tenement in which she was born was of that order common to our older cities, in which the proportion had long since been lost between the number of inhabitants, human, canine, and feline, and the visible supply of clothing and food—as had that also between the Christian graces and the degradation and filth.
Duke's Alley was, in point of fact, the "Five Points" of thrifty, Christian, modern Troy.
Helen was a child of the alley. Twenty years before our story opens, she had been born, the child of a thief, the first offspring of a marriage with a feeble-minded girl, poor and degraded as himself, not a parentage calculated to endow its children with shining virtues by any known laws of heredity.
For ten years she had fought, and scratched, and sworn her way through life in Duke's Alley, and "held her own with the best of them," which, interpreted by the outer world, would have read, "the worst of them."
In the ten years almost as many little brothers and sisters had successively come, wailed out for a shorter or longer period their feeble protest against the hard conditions of377their environment, and gone the silent way. Only one had survived the struggle—Rhoda, four years younger than Helen.
The neighbors had been heard to say, "It's lucky Bill's folks' young 'uns dies off, for I don't know how they'd ever raise 'em, 'n' they wouldn't be good for nothin' if they did raise 'em."
Bill's folks were not held in high esteem, even in Duke's Alley.
"Don't let any on 'em lick ye, Nell. Let 'em know ye're as good as any of 'em," had been the parental counsel.
Bill's idea of "goodness" was not, perhaps, that held by his Christian and philanthropic fellow-citizens in the broader and less crowded streets near by. To Bill its metes and bounds were grit—muscle. In the society of the alley, "I'm as good a man as he," freely translated, would have been, "He can't lick me."
Helen's leanings towards "goodness" had been developed solely on this line. Untaught, defiant, stupid, the one tender spot in her heart was her love for Rhoda.
"Lay a hand on Rhody 'n' I'll scratch yer eyes out," was an edict frequently issued against her companions of the alley, and they knew that safety lay in obedience.
An epidemic swept over the city, and Duke's Alley was decimated. When the health officers invaded and carried out its stricken inmates, kind Mrs. Murphy, next door, took Nell and Rhoda into her room behind the saloon, to stay until their parents' return. But an adversary "better" than Bill had at last tested strength with him, and he was forced to yield. What could be expected of Bill's wife but that she should do now what she had unquestioningly done through all her wedded life, follow Bill? So they never came back to the tenement in Duke's Alley.
Mistress Murphy told the orphans their parents were dead. To Nell's dull intellect it meant little beyond a cessation of kicks and blows. She had not yet grappled with the problem of the food and clothing supply.
Mistress Murphy solved it for her. "It's here ye'll stay, and ye'll help me in the saloon for the bit of a bite and a sup ye'll nade; and as for Rhody, why, what'll kape one will kape two."
"But I'm thinkin' what I'll do wid her at all to kape her out o' the way, for it's no earthly use she is for work, and she'll be in the way in the saloon."
"It's thinkin' I am I'll jist sind her around to the public school to kape her out o' the way."
School for Rhody! Nell seized upon the idea greedily, as something which, in a dim, mysterious manner, was to differentiate Rhoda from the denizens of the alley, and give her a place among the children whom, in her envy, she had jeered at as "bigbugs."
So Nell was to continue, unquestioningly, a part of the life of the alley; but Rhoda was to take her place in the world outside. The heart of poor, deprived Nell swelled, not with envy, but with pride.
Three years more passed. In school Rhoda easily outranked the children of her age. Absorbing unconsciously something of respectability, the saloon, with its brawling men and women, the saloon, which was to Nell the incarnate idea of life and pleasure, became to Rhoda intolerable.
"I hate it, Nell—the drinking and the fighting. I wish we didn't live here."
The words sank deep into Nell's heart, though she could not sympathize with the feeling which prompted them.
Day by day she pondered. She settled her plan doggedly before she ventured to unfold it to Mistress Murphy.
"I'm going into a laundry to work. Me an' Rhody 'is goin' to take a room an' live. You're good to us, but it's the drinkin' an' the cussin' an' all, Rhody can't stand."
Now Mistress Murphy's theory that "what'll kape one'll kape two," while plausible enough as a theory, had failed in the testing. She not only consented to Nell's plan, but she helped her with such disabled furniture as she could spare.
And now, for seven years, Helen of Troy had been the breadwinner. It had been no light struggle, but somehow it had been done, and Rhoda had never known that the dinner box Nell carried daily to the laundry was often carried empty.
"Rhody is goin' to graduate next week; I'm havin' her a lovely new dress made, 'n' she'll look as good as any on 'em," said Helen to the girl who worked next to her in the laundry.
"Yes; an' ye'll drop down dead in yer tracks before the day, if ye don't stop. It's worked to the bone ye are now wid sindin' Rhody to school. She's no better to come into the laundry an' earn her livin' 'n you are."
The old spirit of "lay a hand on Rhody 'n' I'll scratch yer eyes out," flashed from the eyes of Helen. It was only for a moment; the years had taught her to conquer.
"Rhody's goin' to be a teacher. The board has promised her a place as soon as she graduates. She won't never have no such struggle as I've had. I'm goin' to take it a little easier, too, when she gits so she can take care of herself."
"Yes," muttered Bridget, "if ye're alive. It's many's the day I've seen ye iron all day wid an empty stomach. I'll warrant Rhody didn't study without a bite of somethin'."
"Rhody didn't know, Bridget. I would not want she should."
Commencement day it was whispered that the girl who led her class was Bill's daughter; that by hard study she had worked herself up from the life of the slums.
But what mention of Helen? "Any more of Bill's family living?" inquired a guest.
"Yes, one. She's only a laundry girl, can't read nor write. I should hope, if I were Rhoda, she would not find it convenient to be present to-day."
It had not "been convenient." With fevered face and glassy eyes she lay on her poor bed at home.
"I guess I fainted, or somethin', to-day, Rhody. It was hot ironin', and I was so tired."
She never went back to the laundry. Three months later, when Rhoda was fairly installed as public school teacher, Helen of Troy, Nell of the alley, folded her tired hands, no longer red and swollen, and went to rest—an humble, unknown life went out. With patient toil she had lifted a human life to a higher plane. "They also serve who only stand and wait." Who shall estimate her work? "Only a laundry girl," but her influence may be felt through the ages.—N. Y. Observer.
True Religious Liberty
TRUE religious liberty is the right of the other man to think for himself in his own way; and he who holds this principle will exercise it toward the few, the weak, the unpopular, when he has power to enforce outwardly his own ideas. It is all expressed in the Golden Rule.
Life's Mistakes and Victories
By F. W. Robertson
LIFE, like war, is a series of mistakes, and he is not the best Christian nor the best general who makes the fewest false steps. He is the best who wins the most splendid victories by the retrieval of mistakes.—F. W. Robertson.
Making a Good Profession
By Pecker
A CHRISTIAN when he makes a good profession should be sure to make his profession good. It is sad to see many walk in the dark themselves who carry a lantern for others.—Pecker.
BETTER.
By Sir W. A. Becket
GRIEF banished by wine will come again,
And come with a deeper shade,
Leaving, perchance, on the soul a stain
That sorrow hath not made.
Then fill not the tempting glass for me;
If mournful, I will not be mad ;
Better sad because we sinful be
Than sinful because we are sad.
—Sir W. A. Becket.
FORGIVE ME.
By Margaret May
BY MARGARET MAY.
WHEN we stand before the living
With a bitter sense of wrong,
Stern, and cold, and unforgiving,
'Mid a tide of passion strong,
With a kind of proud complaisance,
We but see their blameful part,
And we go out from their presence
With a hard, unyielding heart.
When beside our dead we're kneeling,
In our agony we cry,
Sobbing, with repentant feeling,
"Oh, forgive me, it was I!"
Father, save us from the weeping,
From the hopeless cry that knells
Over loved ones who are sleeping,
With lips mute in Death's farewells.
—New York Observer.
KISSING THE BIBLE.
By The Independent
Most people have seen a tree growing between two separated fragments of a huge rock, the contours and cleavage of which show plainly that it was the ceaseless, silent, subtle increments added to the tiny sprout that constituted the tree at first, which has caused this sundering of the rugged bowlder. Something quite akin to this has happened to one of England's ancient and most cherished customs, by the infinitesimal microbe since he took his majestic way among the affairs of men. The custom obtains in all grades of society, from the sovereign who says to the archbishop administering the coronation oath, "The things which I have here before promised I will perform and keep; so help me God," and then kisses the book, down to the poorest witness who testifies to the guilt or innocence of the most insignificant prisoner holding up his hand and swearing that he will tell "the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth," and then kisses the book.
Already, through the earnest efforts of enlightened men, who realize that a real danger lurks in applying the lips to a book that has been kissed by generations of prisoners as well as witnesses, an act was passed in 1886 allowing persons to swear, holding up the right hand; yet so wedded is an Englishman to a custom, because it is a custom, and an article is so venerated because it has been used a long time, that sanitarians and medical societies are making efforts to awaken such an interest in the matter as will eradicate the practice, which still continues in full force in many courts.
An oath ratified by contact with a "sacred object" was formerly held to be far more binding than one merely written or spoken; sometimes the swearer laid his hand on an altar, a cross, a bishop's crosier, or a relic. The English word signifying the sacred object is "halidome," but to duly impress her cosmopolitan population, England allows the native and hereditary citizen to be sworn by kissing the New Testament, the Jew the Old Testament, the Mohammedan the Koran, and the Hindu the Veda, these being, respectively, the "sacred objects" most reverently regarded. It is hoped that the microbe saturated tome will be banished, and that the hide-bound English peasant will learn that just as substantial justice is obtained in Scotland, where the oath has been accompanied by the upraised right hand alone for a long time.—The Independent.
HOW EIDER DOWN IS OBTAINED.
THE wonderfully soft and warm substance which we call eider down is produced by the eider duck, an inhabitant of the Arctic Ocean. It is proper to call these birds inhabitants of the ocean, for they pass the greater part of their lives far out at sea, only coming to land for a little while in the spring for the purpose of laying and hatching their eggs.
They are very awkward on land, but are wonderful swimmers and divers, descending twelve fathoms below the surface of the water, and remaining submerged as long as five minutes at a time. Their food consists principally of mollusks, which they pick up from the bed of the sea.
Their favorite laying places are certain small, low islands off the coast of Norway, which are called "eider holms." The birds visit these islands in pairs, which present a striking contrast in appearance, the drakes being brilliantly colored in black, white, and green, while the females are of a dull reddish brown, matching the color of the scanty vegetation so perfectly that even a practiced hunter can hardly discover them when they crouch down among the reeds.
On coming ashore the duck proceeds very deliberately to choose a place for a nest, while the drake follows and occasionally give warning of real or fancied danger. The duck is very hard to suit, and it is not an unusual thing for her, after examining all the likely spots out-of-doors, to march boldly into a house and coolly select what she considers a suitable place for her nest, such as the oven, if it happens to be unused at the time. The human inmates of the house welcome her gladly, supply her with food, and cheerfully submit to any small inconveniences, like the temporary loss of their oven, for they know that their guest will pay a good price for her board and lodging. When a duck has selected a place, she gathers grass and sticks and builds her nest. Then she plucks the soft down from her breast and makes a wonderful mat, which not only covers the bottom of the nest but rises so far above the edge that it378can be folded over the eggs when the duck leaves the nest in search of food.
When the six or eight eggs are laid, they are seized, together with the valuable eiderdown mat, by the people of the house, and the duck goes off in sorrow to her mate, who awaits her on the shore, as his courage never rises to such a pitch as to lead him into the house.
The duck, somewhat wiser than before, proceeds to build another nest out-of-doors, and, as her own down feathers are exhausted, she calmly plucks the drake's breast as bare as her own. After this outrageous treatment he goes off in disgust and joins his companions at sea. This time the duck is allowed to hatch her brood without human interference. But whenever she leaves the nest, two or three eggs are liable to be stolen by some other duck who has a nest near by. The marauder carefully folds the down coverlid over the robbed nest again and carries the stolen eggs to her own nest. In this way the eggs are changed about so that a duck may finally hatch out a brood containing not a single one of her own offspring. As soon as the ducklings are all hatched out, the mother, or foster mother, if undisturbed, endeavors to lead her flock to the shore.
This march to the sea is to the ducklings what teething is to the human infants,—the most trying time of their lives,—for they are exposed to the attacks of birds of prey and other enemies. Usually the islanders interfere again at this point, but now their interference benefits the ducks as well as themselves. They gather the down and carry the ducklings in baskets to the shore, the old ducks following them very contentedly.
When the shore is reached, the baskets are emptied into the water. The old ducks plunge in, and after a good deal of commotion swim out to sea, each followed by a flock of ducklings, some of which she has never seen before.
The duck does not always make her first nest in a house, of course, and if the first nest is not disturbed, she will simply hatch her brood and put to sea with them, and the drake will not be robbed of his feathers. But the islanders are very watchful, and the first nest rarely escapes, no matter where it is built.
Sometimes the duck's down is sufficient to supply the second nest, and in this case the drake remains with his family. This nest is then robbed also, and the poor duck is forced to begin a third, with the help of the drake's down feathers. The rule among the eiderdown hunters is to rob every nest until the drake's feathers, which differ in color from those of his mate, appear among the down. When this occurs, it is known that the pair will build no more that year, and so the eggs are allowed to hatch, in order to preserve the species.
A single nest will furnish at least an ounce of down, which is worth on the spot about twenty-five cents of our money. As the birds visit the island in vast numbers, the collection and sale of the down mats is an important source of income to the inhabitants.—Selected.
AN APPEAL FOR THE INDIANS.
By Editor
THE following from the American Missionary for April, 1894, written by Miss Mary C. Collins, of Grand River, N. D., to the people who support her, presents so earnest a plea for the Indians, and shows how fully the Lord has prepared the way, that we print it for our readers:—
Was there ever such a time in the history of our church—ever such an opportunity? It seems to me that the Lord is saying to us: “You have prayed for open doors, prayed that the Holy Spirit should enter the heathen heart and make the man cry out, ‘What shall I do to be saved?’ I have done my part. The heathen are aroused. They are begging, pleading, praying for the good news of a risen Saviour, and you heed not their calls. I have rolled away the stone.”
Oh, if I could speak with half the earnestness which I feel in my own heart, I know the churches would respond! I could give instance after instance where men have come asking for teachers and for the Bible, and where I have had to say, “We cannot send a teacher; we have no money to pay a salary, no money to build a house.” Is it easy to say this? Try it once and see if those great sad eyes will not haunt you? Try it once and see if the disappointed face will not visit you in the dark hours, when you are tossing, restless and wakeful, upon your bed at night, trying to plan how you can economize your own strength so as to add one more burden. O my friends, I am in earnest. Can it mean the same to you when you read of the increasing debt of the American Missionary Association as it does to us? Can you stare the future in the face with the same agony of soul as we do who are continually refusing the bread of life to these hungry souls? Oh, come to our aid! When we heard the voice of Jesus say, “Go ye,” we started out, not knowing where we should be led. All the way we have been blessed in the sowing of the seed beyond our expectation. The history of the work at Standing Rock Agency in the last few years is without parallel in the history of our Indian missions. Grand River, from its mouth to its source, has surrendered to Christ. Riding up and down you see little flags hoisted over a cabin, and at once you may know that in that cabin is being held a prayer meeting, often led by a young man or a young woman who can read the Bible, assisted by someone who can talk or pray. And so, in blindness, with just a ray of the true light which enlightens every man's darkness, they are stumbling on, falling and rising. Oh, how these little ones need a firm, guiding hand! And yet we must say no when men come—men singly, men in groups. Men with their wives come and say, “One thing we have come for; we have been in the dark, and now the light is dawning and we are realizing our condition, we want a Bible teacher.”
Thunder-hawk, who has been refused a whole year now, and who has himself tried to raise a little money to help us, is almost losing courage. I would you could have had your ears unstopped and your hearts opened the other night when an old man, partly in native dress and partly in civilized clothes, came to me. His name is White Ghost. After asking for medicine for his son he said, “Winona, is Thunder-hawk going to have a teacher?” I explained to him the lack of money as well as I could. But of course he has so often heard of the wealth of the East, he could not understand it. “Oh,” said he, “Thunder-hawk is my relative! It is his desire to see one of your churches established among his people. He has not been well for a long time, and he wants to see this before he dies, and because it is not done he carries a sad heart all the time. I hope you will hear his prayer and the prayer of his people. I do not ask it for myself; I am an old dog, blind and sick; I shall die as I am and be thrown away on the hills; I do not know God nor his word. I have heard that God is merciful and gentle, and if that is true, that is what the Dakotas need. I ask nothing for myself, but I want very much to have you send a Bible teacher to Uncle Thunder-hawk.”
Can anything wear on a missionary's health and strength and whole nervous system as these things do? Facing blizzards is nothing to it. I would rather face a blizzard all day than have to say no once to such a call. God is true to us. He never fails us. Are the Christians going to fail us? A few thousand dollars might have saved the last outbreak. Sitting Bull had repeatedly asked for a teacher, just as Thunder-hawk is now asking, and we said no once too often, and so he died as he was, a heathen. Our work grows so rapidly that we are appalled at the responsibility. If ever I have felt like a coward since I have been among the Indians, it is now. Shall I desert? Shall I run away from these appeals? It requires a great deal of strength to face these men.
To-day our beloved David, the deacon of our church, came, in his gentle way, and said, in a quiet, low, musical voice: “Winona, I have come to consider our work with you. They say they need a teacher at Flying-by village, and they are anxious that we should send one immediately; and I also hear that on the Cannon Ball they want another teacher. Thunder-hawk must have one, and I have thought the matter over. I am a policeman, but if you want to send me I will go to one of these places and try to teach them.” Imagine what it is costing of heart life to say: “David, you are a good and trustworthy man. I have long prayed that you might devote yourself to the saving of your people; but a teacher must live a little better than the people379around him in order to be able to help them. You have a small salary as a policeman, and you will be obliged to remain a policeman for a while. Our churches have no money now and cannot help us.”
The sad, astonished look that such men give us at these views makes us feel ashamed and disheartened. How long must it continue? How long must we wait?
Uses of Coal Tar
More substances are derived from coal tar than from any other product. From it alone enough money has been won during the past twenty years to pay our national debt thrice over. Besides carbolic acid, with its secondary products, picrine, the salicylates, and resorcine, much used in the preservation of food, there are saccharine, the sugar of the future, the aniline dye stuffs, and benzol, which is the basis for nearly all our most valued and high-priced perfumes.
Everyone’s Duty
"The only thing which everyone can do, and the only thing which anyone need do, is his duty."
MY PASSOVER.
By David Keppel
BY DAVID KEPPEL, PH.M.
A PILGRIM, with my staff in hand,
I eat my passover to-night;
With girded loins, full shod I stand,
To wait the coming night.
And from the gloom I hear the cries
Of mourners mourning for their dead;
The past within the shadow lies,
The future glows ahead.
O land of my captivity,
Where sweat and tears together fell,
With haste I shake thy dust from me,
And bid thee glad farewell.
I know not—and 'tis not my care—
If I shall spend the coming years
Where Elim's palm trees cool the air,
Or Marah pours her tears.
But this I know, the sprinkled blood
Hath set my soul at liberty;
A Red Sea rolls its cleansing flood
Between my sins and me.
And He who knoweth all my way,
Creates the darkness and the light;
His cloudy pillar shades my day;
His glory cheers my night.
Full soon my pilgrimage will cease—
Its transient joys, its blinding tears—
And I shall find eternal peace
Beyond the "rolling years."
—World Wide Missions.
PETTY PERSECUTION IN SYRIA.
By William S. Nelson
BY REV. W. S. NELSON.
[Missionary of the Presbyterian Board.]
A LONG letter has been received from a neighboring village, giving a detailed account of an occurrence which illustrates the general attitude of the wily Turk, as well as the unfriendly spirit of the local authorities. The substance of the letter is as follows:—
"The other day, as I was sitting in my house, one of the brethren came in to inform me that ten of the Protestants were summoned to the local seat of government, and that two officers waited outside to take me to the house of the Effendi, who had the official summons. I was not surprised, for I had received an intimation of the matter previously. I arose at once, went to the house of the Effendi, and asked to see the order. He received me most roughly, but I saw the order, and found it in regular and legal form. I said we were ready to obey the order of the government, and would prepare to comply at once. I wished to go to my house to make necessary change in my clothing, and hire an animal to ride to the government seat, about three hours distant; and it was raining at the time. The Effendi said I should go at once, and on foot, while he showered upon me the most offensive and abusive language. The other men called for had now been brought in, except two who were sick, and the horsemen were ordered to drive us forward. Thus they compelled us by physical force to go out at once in the rain and mud, on foot, with no means to protect ourselves from the weather.
"On the way the brethren sought to avoid the worst mud by turning to the sides of the road; but the Effendi shouted at them, 'Walk here!' and ordered the horsemen to close in on them and force them through the deep mire. As we were coming out of the village, a large and indignant crowd gathered, and begged the Effendi to wait a little until they could get me an animal to ride, as my health could not endure such exposure and fatigue. He refused; but soon after we left the village, some of my friends overtook us with a horse, on which I rode; but the Effendi did not cease to utter the most coarse abuse, until he left us on the road and hastened ahead to reach the government quarters before us. On our arrival the officer in charge called to the chief of police that the men summoned were at hand. He responded that he was busy with the Effendi, and we should wait outside in the rain. It soon appeared that the urgent business which engaged him was the consideration of an accusation against me lodged by the Effendi. In this complaint it was affirmed that I had surprised the Effendi with a sudden attack, and had beaten him, after violent and abusive language, and had gathered a crowd of retainers to cover him with vile abuse. It was thought that he wished to extort money from me as the price of his good will, and some suggested a gift of from two to five dollars. Friends, however, reported the matter to the governor, who seems to have understood the nature of the Effendi, and hence paid no attention to the complaint.
"I sought the governor's presence to secure the settlement of our case. After two fruitless appeals, and after waiting more than an hour out-of-doors in the falling rain, a hearing was granted. The governor told me that he had been informed that we had built a church and school without imperial permission. I replied that we had a school building, erected seventeen years ago, before the requirement of special permits. 'But,' he said, 'you hold religious services in it.' 'Yes,' I replied, 'and if that is contrary to law, you can execute the law, for we have no wish to violate the law of the land.' We were then dismissed, with the assurance that a special officer should be sent to investigate the case and report. It was now only one hour and a half before sunset, and we were invited to the house of a friend near by; but all preferred to set out for home. During the first half of the journey the brethren were rejoicing over their speedy deliverance, and were singing praise to God, who had cared for them. When it became dark, however, the singing ceased, and all plodded wearily along through mud and water until we reached home, two hours and a half after sundown, cold and drenched to the skin. All will rejoice in the hardship and suffering if good shall result from it; but no one can foresee now whether good or ill will be the consequence."
That is a specimen of the religious liberty secured by the Treaty of Berlin. The absurdity and cruelty of the whole thing are emphasized by knowing the character and reputation of the man who wrote the above account. He is a quiet man, of the kindest possible disposition, thoroughly honored and respected by the whole community. His eyesight is so poor that he can scarcely go about his own village with ease, and is by no means able to take a ten-mile walk through mud and water. It would be impossible to conceive of his beating anyone, and no one ever heard anything but the most courteous language from his lips. And yet, in pursuance of an order from the governor, this Moslem Effendi could literally drive this man and his comrades from their homes over a wretched road to the courthouse, and could secure witnesses prepared to swear to the truth of his ridiculous charge of assault and battery.—N. Y. Independent.
OPIUM IN INDIA.
The Bombay Guardian of November 25 publishes an account of the first public sitting in India of the Royal Commission on Opium, and says:
"On Monday, the 20th, the first witness was Dr. J. M. Thoburn, missionary bishop in India of the American Methodist Episcopal Church. He came to India as a missionary in 1859. He spoke from his personal experience of opium smokers in various parts of India. He considered the opium habit morally and physically degrading. He believed the value claimed for opium as preventing fever was a delusion. People who used opium were capable of short physical efforts above ordinary powers, but the reaction was terrible, and they, having no powers of endurance, soon broke down. Among natives the opium habit was considered a vice, and opium eaters disreputable, and unless well-to-do they were generally unreliable and dishonest. The habit was causing the starvation of millions of children. He thought the masses of the people would be overwhelmingly in favor of closing opium shops. He saw no particular difficulty in the performance of such a measure. He would tax tobacco instead. If the present policy was pursued, the habit would increase. He would prohibit ganja also. He believed missionaries in India generally shared his views."
—Gospel in All Lands.
Helping One Another
By Louisa M. Alcott
THAT is what we are put into the world for,—to help one another. You can pass on the kindness by serving my good friends, who, in return, will do their best for you.—Louisa M. Alcott.
AMERICAN SENTINEL
By Editor
Set for the defense of liberty of conscience, and therefore uncompromisingly opposed to anything tending toward a union of Church and State, either in name or in fact.
Single Copy, per year, - - $1.00.
In clubs of 5 to 24 copies to one address, per yr., 90c
" 25 to 99 " " " " 80c
" 100 to 249 " " " " 75c
" 250 to 499 " " " " 70c
" 500 to 999 " " " " 65c
" 1000 or more " " " " 60c
To foreign countries in Postal Union, - - 5 shillings
Address,
AMERICAN SENTINEL.
43 Bond Street, NEW YORK CITY
Steps to Christ.
BY MRS. E. G. WHITE.
WE have much pleasure in announcing an important and exceedingly helpful work, under the title of STEPS TO CHRIST, by Mrs. E. G. White. The rare ability of the author in the presentation of Scripture truth has never been used to better advantage than in this little work. STEPS TO CHRIST is not alone suitable as a guide to the inquirer and young convert, but is rich in thought and suggestion for the most mature Christian. Some idea of its scope and practical character may be gathered from the following table of contents.
TABLE OF CONTENTS:—
I. The Sinner's Need of Christ.
II. Repentance.
III. Confession.
IV. Consecration.
V. Faith and Acceptance.
VI. The Test of Discipleship.
VII. Growing up into Christ.
VIII. The Work and the Life.
IX. Knowledge of God.
X. The Privilege of Prayer.
XI. What to do with Doubt.
XII. Rejoicing in the Lord.
ADDRESS, Pacific Press
Publishing Company, Oakland, Cal.
OR
43 Bond St., NEW YORK.
STEPS TO CHRIST is issued in a rich, though neat, cloth binding, gold and ink dies, at 75 cents per copy. Sent by mail, post free, on receipt of price.
CHRISTIAN TEMPERANCE
AND
BIBLE HYGIENE.
This Book treats the subjects of Temperance and Hygiene from a BIBLE STANDPOINT.
A good idea of the scope of the work can be formed by a glance at a few of the chapter headings: "Effects of Stimulants," "Extremes in Diet," "Home Education," "Relation of Diet to Health and Morals," "Parental Responsibility," "Dress," "Consulting Spiritualistic Physicians," "Social Purity," "Hope for the Tempted," "Diet and Cleanliness of the Hebrews," "The Gospel of Health," etc., etc.
The book contains 268 large pages, is printed on heavy paper, bound in cloth, embossed, with gold title on back and front cover. It is a book that all should have in their homes. Price, marbled edges, $1.25; gilt edges, $1.50.
Address, PACIFIC PRESS PUBLISHING CO., OAKLAND, CAL.
43 Bond Street, NEW YORK.
THE LAW OF GOD
As Changed by the Papacy.
HERE we have arranged the papal assumptions and admissions side by side with the law of God. These selections are all taken from works of acknowledged authority among the Catholics, and are therefore valuable for reference. Price of cloth, $1.00; paper, 5 1/2x8 1/2 in., per 100, 50c. Address Pacific Press Publishing Co., Oakland, Cal., or 43 Bond St., New York City, or 18 West 5th St., Kansas City, Mo.
A RESPONSIBLE POSITION.
By Ellen G. White
WHAT a responsible position, to unite with the Redeemer of the world in the salvation of men! This work calls for self-denial, sacrifice, and benevolence, for perseverance, courage, and faith. But those who minister in word and doctrine have not the fruit of the grace of God in their hearts and lives; they have not faith. This is why there are so small results from their labor. Many who profess to be ministers of Christ manifest a wonderful submission as they see the unconverted all around them going to perdition. A minister of Christ has no right to be at ease, and sit down submissively, in view of the fact that the truth is powerless, and souls are not stirred by its presentation. He should resort to prayer, and should work and pray without ceasing. Those who submit to remain destitute of spiritual blessings, without earnest wrestling for those blessings, consent to have Satan triumph. Persistent, prevailing faith is necessary. God's ministers must come into closer companionship with Christ, and follow his example in all things,—in purity of life, in self-denial, in benevolence, in diligence, in perseverance. They should remember that a record will one day appear in evidence against them for the least omission of duty.
Many who profess to believe the truth for these last days, will be found wanting. They have neglected the weightier matters. Their conversation is superficial, not deep, earnest, and thorough. They do not know why they believe the truth, only because others have believed it, and they take it for granted that it is the truth. They can give no intelligent reason why they believe. Many have allowed their minds to be filled with things of minor importance, and their eternal interest is made secondary. Their own souls are dwarfed and crippled in spiritual growth. Others are not enlightened or edified by their experience, or by the knowledge which it was their privilege and duty to obtain. Strength and stability are with true-hearted professors.
Christ and him crucified should become the theme of our thoughts, and stir the deepest emotions of our souls. The true followers of Christ will appreciate the great salvation which he has wrought for them; and wherever he leads the way, they will follow. They will consider it a privilege to bear whatever burdens Christ may lay upon them. It is through the cross alone that we can estimate the worth of the human soul. Such is the value of men for whom Christ died that the Father is satisfied with the infinite price which he pays for the salvation of man, in yielding up his own Son to die for their redemption. What wisdom, mercy, and love in its fullness are here manifested. The worth of man is known only by going to Calvary. In the mystery of the cross of Christ we can place an estimate upon man.—Testimony for the Church, No. 20.