PROTESTANTISM had marshaled its spiritual forces a second time, and placing itself at the heart of Christendom—at a point where three great empires met—it was laboring with redoubled vigor to propagate itself on all sides. It was expelling from the air of the world that ancient superstition, born of paganism and Judaism, which, like an opaque veil, had darkened the human mind; a new light was breaking on the eyes, and a new life stirring in the souls of men; schools of learning, pure churches, and free nations were springing up in different parts of Europe; while hundreds of thousands of disciples were ready, by their holy lives or heroic deaths, to serve that great cause which, having broken their ancient fetters, had made them the heirs of a new liberty and the citizens of a new world. It was clear that if let alone, for only a few years, Protestantism would achieve a victory so complete that it would be vain for any opposing power to think of renewing the contest. If that power which was seated in Geneva was to be withstood, and the tide of victory which was bearing it to dominion rolled back, there must be no longer delay in the measures necessary for achieving such a result.
It was further clear that armies would never effect the overthrow of Protestantism. The serried strength of popish Europe had been put forth to crush it, but all in vain; Protestantism had risen only the stronger from the blows which, it was hoped, would overwhelm it. It was plain that other weapons must be forged, and other armies mustered, than those which Charles and Francis had been accustomed to lead into the field. It was now that the Jesuit corps was embodied. And it must be confessed that these new soldiers did more than all the armies of France and Spain to stem the tide of Protestant success, and bind victory once more to the banners of Rome.
We have seen Protestantism renew its energies; Rome, too, will show what she is capable of doing. As the tribes of Israel were approaching the frontier of the promised land, a wizard prophet was summoned from the East to bar their entrance by his divinations and enchantments. As the armies of Protestantism neared their final victory, there started up the Jesuit host, with a subtler casuistry and a darker divination than Balaam's, to dispute with the Reformed the possession of Christendom. We shall consider that host in its rise, its equipments, its discipline, its diffusion, and its successes.
Don Inigo Lopez de Recalde, the Ignatius Loyola of history, was the founder of the Order of Jesus, or the Jesuits. His birth was nearly contemporaneous with that of Luther. He was the youngest son of one of the highest Spanish grandees, and was born in his father's Castle of Loyola, in the province of Guipuzcoa, in 1491. His youth was passed at the splendid and luxurious court of Ferdinand the Catholic. Spain at that time was fighting to expel the Moors, whose presence on her soil she accounted at once an insult to her independence and an affront to her faith. She was ending the conflict in Spain, but continuing it in Africa. The naturally ardent soul of Ignatius was set on fire by the religious fervor around him. He grew weary of the gaieties and frivolities of the court; nor could even the dalliances and adventures of knight-errantry satisfy him. He thirsted to earn renown on the field of arms. Embarking in the war which at that time engaged the religious enthusiasm and military chivalry of his countrymen, he soon distinguished himself by his feats of daring. Ignatius was bidding fair to take a high place among warriors, and transmit to posterity a name encompassed with the halo of military glory—but with that halo only. At this stage of his career an incident befell him which cut short his exploits on the battlefield, and transferred his enthusiasm and chivalry to another sphere.
It was the year 1521. Luther was uttering his famous "No!" before the emperor and his princes, and summoning, as with trumpet peal, Christendom to arms. It is at this moment the young Ignatius, the intrepid soldier of Spain, and about to become the yet more intrepid soldier of Rome, appears before us. He is shut up in the town of Pampeluna, which the French are besieging. The garrison are hard pressed; and after some whispered consultations they openly propose to surrender. Ignatius deems the very thought of such a thing dishonor; he denounces the proposed act of his comrades as cowardice, and, re-entering the citadel with a few companions as courageous as himself, swears to defend it to the last drop of his blood. By and by famine leaves him no alternative save to die within the walls, or to cut his way, sword in hand, through the host of the besiegers. He goes forth and joins battle with the French. As he is fighting desperately he is struck by a musket-ball, wounded dangerously in both legs, and laid senseless on the field. Ignatius had ended the last campaign he was ever to fight with the sword; his valor he was yet to display on other fields, but he would mingle no more on those which resound with the clash of arms and the roar of artillery.
The bravery of the fallen warrior had won the respect of the foe. Raising him from the ground, where he was fast bleeding to death, they carried him to the hospital of Pampeluna, and tended him with care till he was able to be363conveyed in a litter to his father's castle. Thrice had he to undergo the agony of having his wounds opened. Clenching his teeth and closing his fists, he bade defiance to pain. Not a groan escaped him while under the torture of surgeon's knife. But the tardy passage of the weeks and months during which he waited the slow healing of his wounds, inflicted on his ardent spirit a keener pain than had the probing-knife on his quivering limbs. Fettered to his couch, he chafed at the inactivity to which he was doomed. Romances of chivalry and tales of war were brought him to beguile the hours. These exhausted, other books were produced, but of a somewhat different character. This time it was the legends of the saints that were brought the bed-rid knight. The tragedy of the early Christian martyrs passed before him as he read. Next came the monks and hermits of the Thebaic deserts and the Sinaitic mountains. With an imagination on fire, he perused the story of the hunger and cold they had braved, of the self-conquests they had achieved, of the battles they had waged with evil spirits, of the glorious visions that had been vouchsafed them, and the brilliant rewards they had gained in the lasting reverence of earth and the felicities and dignities of Heaven. He panted to rival these heroes, whose glory was of a kind so bright and pure, that, compared with it, the renown of the battle-field was dim and sordid. His enthusiasm and ambition were as boundless as ever, but now they were directed into a new channel. Henceforward the current of his life was changed. He had lain down "a knight of the burning sword"—to use the words of his biographer, Vieyra—he rose up from it "a saint of the burning torch."
The change was a sudden and violent one, and drew after it vast consequences, not to Ignatius only, and the men of his own age, but to millions of the human race in all countries of the world, and in all the ages that have elapsed since. He who lay down on his bed the fiery soldier of the emperor, rose from it the yet more fiery soldier of the Pope. The weakness occasioned by loss of blood, the morbidity produced by long seclusion, the irritation of acute and protracted suffering, joined to a temperament highly excitable, and a mind that had fed on miracles and visions till its enthusiasm had grown into fanaticism, accounts in part for the transformation which Ignatius had undergone. Though the balance of his intellect was now sadly disturbed, his shrewdness, his tenacity, and his daring remained. Set free from the fetters of calm reason, these qualities had freer scope than ever. The wing of his earthly ambition was broken, but he could take his flight heavenward. If earth was forbidden him, the celestial domains stood open, and there worthier exploits and more brilliant rewards awaited his prowess.
The heart of a soldier plucked out, and that of a monk given him, Ignatius vowed, before leaving his sick chamber, to be the slave, the champion, the knight-errant of Mary. She was the lady of his soul, and after the manner of dutiful knights he immediately repaired to her shrine at Montserrat, hung up his arms before her image, and spent the night in watching them. But, reflecting that he was a soldier of Christ, that great Monarch who had gone forth to subjugate all the earth, he resolved to eat no other food, wear no other raiment, than his King had done, and endure the same hardships and vigils. Laying aside his plume, his coat of mail, his shield and sword, he donned the cloak of the mendicant. "Wrapped in sordid rags," says Duller, "an iron chain and prickly girdle pressing on his naked body, covered with filth, with uncombed hair, and untrimmed nails," he retired to a dark mountain in the vicinity of Manresa, where was a gloomy cave, in which he made his abode for some time. There he subjected himself to all the penances and mortifications of the early anchorites whose holiness he emulated. He wrestled with the evil spirit, talked to voices audible to no ear but his own, fasted for days on end, till his weakness was such that he fell into a swoon, and one day was found at the entrance of his cave, lying on the ground, half dead.—Wylie's "History of Protestantism."
(Concluded next week.)
Report of North Pacific S. S. Association.
THE eighth annual session of the North Pacific Sabbath-school Association was held in connection with the camp-meeting at East Portland, Oregon, May 19-25.
The first meeting was called May 19. Prayer by Brother Cole. The report of the last session was then called for and read; also the financial report; after which remarks were made by Brother J. A. Burden on the importance of the Sabbath-school work.
The following committees were then appointed: On Nominations, H. W. Reed, F. C. Kelley, and F. S. Bunch. On Resolutions, John A. Burden, S. Brownsberger, and J. M. Cole.
The second meeting was called at 6:45 P. M., Elder C. L. Boyd in the chair. Report of the last meeting read and accepted. The Committee on Resolutions then presented the following report:—
WHEREAS, We recognize the importance of united and well-directed efforts in the Sabbath-school work, therefore,
Resolved, That we recommend that the teachers and officers of each organized school hold a teachers' meeting at least once a month, and oftener if practicable, to consult in regard to the best interests of the Sabbath-school.
WHEREAS, Many of our people are so situated that they cannot attend our church Sabbath-schools, therefore,
Resolved, That we recommend and urge such to hold family schools at a stated hour, putting forth earnest efforts to make them interesting and profitable, and that they report quarterly to the State Secretary.
Resolved, That we adopt the class contribution plan throughout our schools.
These resolutions were carefully considered and unanimously adopted.
The Committee on Nominations presented the following names for officers: For President, Elder C. L. Boyd; Secretary, Carrie L. Brooks; Executive Committee, John A. Burden and John M. Cole. The nominees were elected.
Adjourned sine die.
C. L. BOYD, President.
CARRIE L. BROOKS, Secretary.
BENEATH THE CROSS.
By Christian Secretary
BENEATH the cross of Jesus
I bow with contrite heart,
While in his work most precious
I gladly take a part.
Beneath the cross of Jesus
I come for his command,
And lay upon his altar
My head, my heart, my hand.
Beneath the cross of Jesus
I march to do his will;
His promises, they cheer me
While I his laws fulfill.
O sacred cross of Jesus,
May I thy burdens love
Till Christ shall come in glory
To carry me above.
—Christian Secretary.
The Commentary.
THE LAW OF GOD.
Under the Law.
(Lesson 11.—Sabbath, July 3.)
1. WHAT exhortation does Paul give in Romans 6:12?
"Let not sin therefore reign in your mortal body, that ye should obey it in the lusts thereof."
2. What is sin?
"Whosoever committeth sin transgresseth also the law; for sin is the transgression of the law," 1 John 3:4.
3. Then what does the apostle really warn us not to do?
"Sin is the transgression of the law," therefore when Paul warns us against letting sin reign over us, he warns us against transgressing the law.
4. Where is this exhortation repeated?
"Neither yield ye your members as instruments of unrighteousness unto sin." Rom. 6:13, first part.
5. If people heed this exhortation, what will have no dominion over them?
"For sin shall have no dominion over you." Rom. 6:14, first part.
6. If a person sins, what does he transgress?
He transgresses the law.
7. Then if sin has no dominion over him, what does he keep?
Since when a person sins he transgresses the law, it follows that when sin has no dominion over him he obeys the law.
8. What does Paul say to those who thus refrain from sinning?
"For ye are not under the law, but under grace." Rom. 6:14, last part.
9. Will those sin who are not under the law but under grace?
"What then? shall we sin, because we are not under the law, but under grace? God forbid." Rom. 6:15.
10. Speaking to those who are not under the law, to what does Paul say they had formerly been subject?
"But God be thanked, that ye were the servants of sin, but ye have obeyed from the heart that form of doctrine which was delivered unto you." Rom. 6:17.
11. But now, being not under the law, from what are they free?
"Being then made free from sin, ye became the servants of righteousness." Rom. 6:18.
12. Then what must be meant by "being under the law"?
In speaking to those who are not under the law, Paul says that they had formerly been the servants of sin (Rom. 6:18), but that now they are "made free from sin." Now if when they are not under the law they are free from sin, it necessarily follows that when they were under the law they were servants of sin. "Under the law," therefore, is equivalent to being in a state of sin.
13. What do those do who are free from sin, or who, in other words, are not under the law?
"Ye became the servants of righteousness." Rom. 6:18, last part.
14. And what is righteousness?
"All thy commandments are righteousness." Ps. 119:172.
15. Then if people are not under the law, what do they do?
It has been shown that those who are "under the law" are those who are breaking the law; then it necessarily follows that they who are not "under the law," are those who keep the commandments.
16. Under what must they then necessarily be?
"Ye are not under the law, but under grace." Rom. 6:14, last part.
17. Why?
"Abide in me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself, except it abide in the vine; no more can ye, except ye abide in me. I am the vine, ye are the branches. He that abideth in me, and I in him, the same bringeth forth much fruit; for without me ye can do nothing." John 15:4, 5. "Seeing then that we have a great High Priest, that is passed into the Heavens, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold fast our profession. For we have not a high priest which cannot be touched with the feeling of our infirmities; but was in all points tempted like as we are, yet without sin. Let us therefore come boldly unto the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy, and find grace to help in time of need." Heb. 4:14-16.
The commandments can be kept only by the help of Christ, and this help is given by the grace of God (Heb. 4:16); therefore those who are not under the law are under grace.
Delayed Results.
THE want of immediate or apparent success is among the severe trials which Christian workers are called to endure. To toil long without any obvious results is painfully trying; but it is a test of faith to which the faithful servants of God are often subjected. He that sows is not always he that quickly gathers the ripened grain with rejoicing that he has not labored in vain. The bringing in of the sheaves from the field where tearful sowing is done, is often delayed. Success, at first, is dealt out but sparingly, in a multitude of cases. The sower is not so soon a reaper as he longs to be, in what seems to him a godly impatience.
It has always been thus. God tries the faith of his servants by keeping them in suspense. Jeremiah says, "It is good that a man should both hope and quietly wait." The most excellent and faithful have thus been tried. That for which they anxiously looked did not appear according to their desires or their expectations as to either the time or the way of appearance, if, indeed, aught on earth was ever to be seen. The preaching of Noah produced but little effect, from first to last, so far as gaining converts was concerned. He waited long before his words were confirmed and before the end of his ministry was accomplished. Very wearisome must have been that one hundred and twenty years of waiting. Many a time he must have felt that he was laboring in vain; and never, at all, did he see the world converted and saved. Without doubt, however, he was permitted to feel that the true end of the work given him to do, was accomplished; so that he was by no means to be considered an unsuccessful preacher.—Watchman.
Keeping Faith Alive
WHEN faith fails, the hope of the Christian declines, and he becomes powerless like other men. Faith is the only world-subduing power lodged in the soul of every true disciple. That faith may not fail, keep the eyes steadfastly fixed on the Lord Jesus Christ; keep the heart close to the cross; keep the promises of God in mind; keep in the heart a love for precious souls; keep in view the tremendous realities of eternity; keep in lively exercise all present faith; keep soul and body on the altar of consecration; and, above all, keep the whole being filled with the Holy Ghost.—Sel.
The Lord’s Everlasting Mercy
"THE mercy of the Lord is from everlasting to everlasting upon them that fear him, and his righteousness unto children's children." Ps. 103:17.
A Talk with Tom.
By Bishop Dudley
You want to know, Tom, what is the first quality of manhood?
Well, listen. I am going to tell you in one little word of five letters. And I am going to write that word in very loud letters as though you were deaf, so that you may never forget it. That word is "truth."
Now then, remember, truth is the only foundation on which can be erected a manhood that is worthy of being so called.
Now, mark what I say, truth must be the foundation on which the whole character is to be erected; for otherwise, no matter how beautiful the upper stories may be, and no matter of how good material they may be built, the edifice, the character, the manhood, will be but a sham, which offers no sure refuge and protection to those who seek it, for it will tumble down when trial comes.
Alas, my boy, the world is very full of such shams of manhood, in every profession and occupation. There are lawyers in this town who know that they have never had any training to fit them for their work, who yet impose upon the people and take their money for giving them advice which they know they are unfitted to give. I heard of one lately who advised his partner “never to have anything to do with law books, for they would confuse his mind.”
There are ignorant physicians who know that they are ignorant, and who can and do impose upon people more ignorant than themselves. There are preachers without number pretending to know what they have never learned. Don’t you see that their manhood is at best but a beautiful deceit?
Now, I want you to be a man, and that you may be that, I want you first and foremost to be true, thoroughly true. I hope you would scorn to tell a lie, but that is only the beginning to thoughtfulness. I want you to despise365all sham, all pretense, all effort to seem otherwise than you are.
When we have laid that foundation then we can go on to build up a manhood, glorious and godlike, after the perfect image of Him, the perfect Man, who said that he was born that he might bear witness to the truth.—Bishop Dudley.
Wooing His Wife.
By Sel.
ALTHOUGH Farmer Tucker had long dreamed of a visit to Chautauqua, when he found himself at that Mecca of devout excursionists, the brawny man was tempted to doubt his own identity. The holiday surroundings were wholly unlike anything to which he was accustomed in his prosy New England home; the rich, crowded programme offered was in striking contrast to the dull monotony of farm life. When this son of toil first entered the auditorium and saw the rustic amphitheater crowded with thousands of people listening breathlessly to the full, sweet tone of the grand organ, his cramped, selfish heart was strangely touched and expanded. For an instant the wish crept in that he had asked Jane if she would not like to come too. But there was not much time for his own thoughts, for, as the music ceased, a white-haired gentleman arose, and announced the name of an orator who is well known from Maine to California.
“Well, now, it beats all to think I’m going to hear the man I’ve wanted to hear for more’n twenty years,” Farmer Tucker whispered to himself. The lecturer commenced his brief address with one of his inimitable descriptions.
The story was of a man who applied for a divorce, and was advised by his eminent lawyer to try the effect of making love to his wife as he had done before marrying her, instead of resorting to the measure he had proposed. It included, also, an account of a late visit, when the happy husband withdrew his application, and, fairly dancing with glee, assured the lawyer that his experiment had worked like a charm; that “Sally had become as amiable and affectionate a wife as a man could ask to have.” His representation of the scene drew forth long applause, but Samuel Tucker’s interest was of too serious a nature to permit him joining in the laughter. As if unconscious for a moment of the multitude about him, he said in an undertone: “I’d be willing to take my oath that wouldn’t work with Jane. All I have to say is, that man’s wife is different from mine; I’d as soon think of feeding serrup to a mummy as to begin sparking again with her.”
At length he quieted his conscience with the determination to prove that his estimate of his wife was correct. “When I go home,” he said to himself, “I’ll just show the woman some little attentions, and I’ll see they won’t have any more effect on her than they would on the old horse. Jane’s bound to be sullen and obstinate, and I suppose I may as well make up my mind to it.”
On reaching home the resolution was not easily carried out. When Mr. Tucker planned some gallantry toward his wife, the very thought made him feel so unnatural and foolish that postponement resulted; but Sunday offered an opportunity that he improved.
The farm was nearly a mile from church, yet Samuel Tucker had for years been in the habit of driving home alone, leaving his wife to attend the Sunday-school, and then walk home, as best she could, through mud or dust. Great was Mrs. Tucker’s astonishment, therefore, on Sunday after her husband’s return, to find him waiting for her at the close of the Bible-service. The faintest suspicion that he had driven back to church for her did not cross the good woman’s mind; she supposed he had business with some of the brethren, and hesitated whether to walk on as usual or to suggest waiting for him, when the farmer called out, “It’s just as cheap to ride as to walk.” Silently the woman took her seat in the buggy, and silently they drove home, much to the husband’s satisfaction, for it seemed to him a proof of the woman’s dull, inappreciative nature. “She didn’t act pleased, but was only dazed like, as I knew she would be,” he muttered, as he went about his midday “chores.”
At the same time Mr. Tucker was conscious of having performed a most praiseworthy act, and felt so comfortable that he resolved to repeat the experiment. So, on the following Sunday, Jane found her husband again waiting, and, as she mounted the high buggy, ventured to utter a half audible, “Thank you,” and to ask Samuel if he had been waiting long, to which Mr. Tucker replied that he had just reached the church, and didn’t know but what he might find she had started on foot. This reply seemed to Jane a positive assurance that her husband had really returned for the sole purpose of taking her home, and her chilled heart glowed with warmth unknown for years. She longed to tell her husband how much she appreciated his trouble, but imagined that it would sound “so foolish” that she kept her pleasure to herself.
The third Sunday was rainy, and, as she washed the breakfast dishes, Mrs. Tucker kept thinking, “I wonder if Samuel means to come for me this noon. It would be such a help in the rain. I’m half a mind to ask him!” This resolution was soon stifled with the reasoning which had stifled many similar resolves in the past ten years: “No, I won’t ask no favors; if he don’t think enough of me to come, why he needn’t.” Although proudly unwilling to seek any attentions, Jane longed for some demonstration of her husband’s love and care. She had walked home in the rain too often to greatly dread such exposure. But a week before the wife had tasted the joy of being considered, and longed for further proof of her companion’s affection.
Mrs. Tucker’s heart leaped for joy when at noon she saw the old mare’s head from the lecture-room window. Indeed, her hungering heart became quite unmanageable, and, entering the carriage door, melted, Jane sobbed out:—
“I’m sure it’s very good of you, Samuel, to come for me this rainy day.” And then the tears flowed so fast that further words were impossible.
Completely taken by surprise, Mr. Tucker exclaimed, “I declare, I hadn’t no idea you’d care so much about it.”
“I wouldn’t mind the walk,” responded the wife, “but—Samuel—I’m so happy to have you—come.”
The strong man was brushing away a tear from his own cheek; now his tenderer, better nature was mastering the hard, selfish spirit which had long possessed him, and, with coughing and choking, he said: “Jane, I see I’ve made an awful botch of our married life; if you’ve a mind to forgive me, I’ll see if I can’t treat you from day to day as a woman ought to be treated.”
This confession was too much for the weeping wife, and she answered, quickly:—
“You’re not a bit more to blame than I am; I’ve been proud and obstinate; but I tell you what it is, we will begin all over again.”
The ice was now thoroughly broken and that afternoon Farmer Tucker and his wife had a long talk over the past and future. And in the evening, when they were about to start for the prayer-meeting to be held in the neighboring school-house, the renewed husband stooped and kissed his wife, saying:—
“Jane, I’ve been a-thinking that married life ain’t so different from farming or any other occupation. Now, I ain’t such a fool as to think a field will keep a-yielding if I only enrich it once and plant it once. I have to go over the same ground every season; and here I supposed you was a-going to do as you always did when we were a-courting, without my doing my part at all.”
“If I hadn’t changed any may be you would always have been as tender as you used to be,” pleaded his wife.
“Perhaps so and perhaps not; but I don’t mean to leave you to try no such plan. I tell you what it is, Jane, I feel as if we hadn’t really never been married till to-day. It most seems as we ought to take a wedding tower.”
“I’m afraid we’ll have to wait until next summer for that,” was the smiling response.
“I suppose we shall, but we’ll take it then, certain; and I’ll tell you where we’ll go, wife—that’s to Chautauquay.”—Sel.
The Home Circle.
By George Klingle
PATIENCE WITH THE LOVE.
THEY are such tiny feet!
They have gone such a little way to meet
The years which are required to break
Their steps to evenness, and make
Them go
More sure and slow!
They are such little hands!
Be kind. Things are so new, and life but stands
A step beyond the doorway. All around
New day has found
Such tempting things to shine upon, and so
The hands are tempted hard you know.
They are such new, young lives,
Surely their newness shrives
Them well of many sins. They see so much
That, being mortal, they would touch,
That if they reach
We must not chide, but teach.
They are such fond, clear eyes
That widen to surprise
At every turn; they are so often held
To sun or showers—showers soon dispelled
By looking in our face.
Love asks for such, much grace.
They are such fair, frail gifts;
Uncertain as the rifts
Of light that lie along the sky—
They may not be here by and by—
Give them not love, but more—above
And harder—patience with the love.
—George Klingle.
A Word to the Boys.
By J. G. Holland
WHAT do you think, young friends, of the hundreds of thousands who are trying to cheat themselves and others into the belief that alcoholic drinks are good for them? Are they to be pitied and not blamed? Do you want to be one of these wretched men? If we are to have drunkards in the future, some of them are to come from the boys to whom I am writing; and I ask you again if you want to be one of them? No! of course you don't! Well, I have a plan for you that is just as sure to save you from such a fate as the sun is to rise tomorrow morning. It never failed; it never will fail; and I think it worth knowing. Never touch liquor in any form. That is the plan, and it is not only worth knowing, but it is worth putting in practice.
I know you don't drink now, and it seems to you as if you never would. But your temptation will come, and will probably come in this way. You will find yourself sometime with a number of companions; and they will have a bottle of wine on the table. They will drink and offer it to you. They will regard it as a manly practice, and very likely they will look upon you as a milksop if you don't indulge with them. Then what will you do? eh, what will you do? Will you say, "No, no! none of that stuff for me! I know a trick worth half a dozen of that!" or will you take a glass with your own common sense protesting, and your conscience making the whole draught bitter, and a feeling that you have damaged yourself, and then go off with a hot head and a skulking soul that at once begins to make apologies for itself, and will keep doing so all this life? Boys, do not become drunkards.—J. G. Holland.
The Wife.
ONLY let a woman be sure she is precious to her husband—not useful, not valuable, not convenient simply, but lovely and beloved; let her be the recipient of his polite and hearty attentions; let her feel that her cares and love are noticed, appreciated, and returned; let her opinion be asked, her approval sought, and her judgment respected in matters of which she is cognizant; in short, let her only be loved, honored, and cherished, in fulfillment of the marriage vow, and she will be to her husband, her children, and society a well-spring of happiness. She will bear pain, and toil, and anxiety; for her husband's love to her is a tower and fortress. Shielded and sheltered therein, adversity will have lost its sting. She may suffer, but sympathy will dull the edge of sorrow.
A house with love in it—and by love I mean love expressed in words, and looks, and deeds, for I have not one spark of faith in love that never crops out—is to a house without love as a person to a machine; one is life, the other is mechanism. The unloved woman may have bread just as light, a house just as tidy as the other; but the latter has a spring of beauty about her, a joyousness, a penetrating and pervading brightness to which the former is an entire stranger. The deep happiness of her heart shines out in her face. Her home is ever airy, and graceful, and warm, and welcoming with her presence. She is full of devices, and plots, and sweet surprises for her husband and family. She has never done with the romances and poetry of life. She herself is a lyric poem, setting herself to all pure and gracious melodies. Humble household ways and duties have for her a golden significance.—Work at Home.
Health and Temperance.
By Lanta W. Smith
Mother's Whisky Bottle.
THE years rolled on, and the once thrifty farm was neglected. Everything was going to ruin, Nat and Jud included. There was no concealing, no smoothing over the fact any longer, they were drunkards. Perhaps it was well that the deacon had passed beyond earthly sin and sorrow, but the mother was left alone. She sadly saw her boys sink lower and lower in sin, and she was powerless to save them. She wondered that Providence could allow her to be afflicted! It was a mystery why her boys should be drunkards, when she had always been a temperance woman. To be sure, she had not gone to extremes; but she had never failed to express her temperance principles, and had tried to instill them into the characters of her boys. She had failed to help them, and one day she learned the reason.
The minister was in the sitting-room talking with Nathan; he had vainly tried to help him.
"Nathan," he said, desperately, "I wonder what could have brought you to this—with the best of parents and advantages. What was it?"
The mother in the kitchen paused to hear the answer.
Nathan turned almost fiercely, and said:—
"You want to know, do ye? Well I can tell you in a few words; but I wish you wouldn't be trying any more to save me. I'm past help. I must have liquor as long as I breathe. What brought me to this? Well, sir, nothing more or less than mother's whisky bottle!"
A piteous, trembling cry came through the kitchen. It was too sudden—that fearful revelation. Had she ruined the boys she loved better than life? They took her up from the bare floor where she had fallen, and laid her on the bed, tenderly, reverently. They had never blamed her, those boys, and they had never meant that she should know that her medicinal whisky had formed their terrible appetite. It was not long after that that they laid her down by the deacon's side. She was crushed under the sad truth which had come to her with its weight of sorrow and remorse, and she could not rally.
Often through the village streets stagger the Lindley boys, now drunken sots, with no home, and no one to care for them. Every one wonders what brought them to such depths; but only the minister knows that it was "mother's whisky bottle."—Lanta W. Smith.
Bathing in Warm Water.
CLEANLINESS is not only essential to good health, but it is a mark of good breeding. The laborer, by the clinging of dust to his perspiring person, becomes a fit subject for the bathtub very frequently. Too frequent bathing is weakening. It may not be advisable to take a bath morning and evening, as some medical journals advise, but a good washing frequently, enough to keep the person clean. Warm baths will often prevent the most virulent diseases. A person who may be in fear of having received infection of any kind should take a warm bath, suffer perspiration to ensue, and then rub dry.
Dress warmly to avoid taking cold. If the system has imbibed any infectious matter, it will be removed by resorting to this process, if done before the infection has had time to spread over the system; and even if some time has elapsed, the drenching perspiration that may be induced by hot water will be very certain to remove it.
In case of congestion, bilious colic, inflammation, etc., there is no remedy more certain to give relief. In case of obstinate constipation also, wonderful cures have been wrought. For sore throat, and inflammation of the lungs, a hot compress is one of the most potent remedies.—Sanitary World.
Drunkenness in France.
By Springfield Republican
THE drink problem takes on a different aspect in France from that which it wears in this country. Wine of the country has long been insufficient for the appetites of the people, and there have come into general use among the lower classes vile alcohols distilled from grains, potatoes, beets, and other vegetables, which are sold at a very low price and are very dangerous toxics, producing alcoholism to an enormous extent. Whether these debased alcohols are any worse than the adulterated strong liquors of America (which are not cheap) is a question perhaps worth investigating; but the results of their use are so serious that the Paris Academy of Medicine has made a deliverance against them. Alcoholism was scarcely known to French physicians thirty to thirty-five years ago, but now it is frightfully common, and the hospitals are full of sufferers from strange diseases—derangements of the circulation, curious forms of paralysis, hallucinations, idiocy, etc.
Drinking places multiply to an alarming degree; nearly 100,000 have been opened within ten years. The Academy of Medicine now proposes to call upon the Government for surveillance of the manufacture of "hard" liquors (as we call them), for heavy taxes upon all brandies and strong liquors in commerce, and heavy licenses imposed on all who sell them; and that every possible measure be taken to limit their sale. The cider region of Normandy, however, is one of the most intemperate in the whole republic.—Springfield Republican.
A Brave Little Girl.
THE following incident, related of a little heathen Bengalee girl, shows what children in those far-off countries sometimes suffer for the sake of their religion.
A little girl came to school a few days ago with a severe bruise on her forehead, and on being asked by Mrs. M. what caused it, would give no answer, but looked ready to burst out crying. But another little child, a relative, was not so reticent, and said her father, having observed that she had not done her "puja" for a great many days, asked her why she had so neglected her devotions, to which she replied: "Father, I have not neglected my devotions; I have prayed every day to Jesus. I do not pray to idols, because I do not believe in them." This so enraged the father that he seized her by the back of the neck, took her before the idol, and, having first bowed reverently before it himself, forcibly bent the child's head several times, striking it so violently on the ground that it bled profusely, the child bitterly crying the whole time. But she smiled happily enough when this was related in school, and said that she did not much mind; adding, "I cannot believe that trees and wood and stone will save me."—Heathen Woman's Friend.
Bogus Butter and Hard Times
THERE is said to be at least 150 manufactories of bogus butter in the United States. In 1885 they exported 38,000,000 pounds of the stuff, an increase of 18,000,000 pounds over 1880. In 1885 there was exported 21,638,000 pounds of genuine butter, a decrease of 18,000,000 pounds from 1880. Comments are unnecessary. No wonder the dairymen complain of hard times.—Sel.
Intemperance and Crime
The proportion of crime traceable to this great vice, intemperance, must be set down, as heretofore, at not less than four-fifths.—State Board of Charities, Mass., 1869.
Cyrus Field Becomes an Abstainer
It is said that Mr. Cyrus W. Field became a total abstainer through the influence of Archdeacon Farrar, who was his guest while in New York.—Sel.