p. 141 | Signs of the Times, Vol. 3, No. 18. (5/3/1877)

Earlier text: SPIRITUALISM A SATANIC DELUSION

The Day Line.

By Joseph Harvey Waggoner

It is singular how this subject, plain in itself, is mystified by some people. The following extract is from one of the leading Catholic papers in the United States in answer to a request for information in regard to the day line:—

“Geographers have not established a universal day line. There is a day line between each two towns or places on opposite sides of the globe, but this line is always changing, and were geographers to define all the day lines, the largest map could not contain them, for the horizon of a place is its day line. When it is noon at Washington, it is 9 o’clock in the morning at San Francisco, 11 o’clock at Jefferson City, Mo.; 5 minutes to 11 at St. Paul, Minn., and 20 minutes to 10 at Salt Lake City. You can therefore see that night does not come at the same time to all these places, and consequently, that a universal day line is impossible.”

The paper is ably conducted—most Catholic papers are—as far as general and religious intelligence are concerned, yet it would be hard to find a paragraph betraying such utter ignorance of a well-known fact. Had the question been, at what point the sun shines all round the world at once, the above would have been a satisfactory answer. And that is as far as the editor seems to have understood the subject.

It is indeed true that geographers have not established a universal day line, for they have no need of it; it does not fall within the range of ordinary geography. But navigators have established such a line and to them it is indispensable. We cannot present the question of fact more clearly than we presented it in the Review of Baird on the Sabbath:—

“It is well known that in traveling either east or west we find our time-pieces continually varying from the time of the different localities through which we pass. To keep our watches with sun time, that is, true, or correct time, we must often set them by local time. The whole amount of such changes in traveling around the world, will be 24 hours. For if we travel eastward we must correct our time-pieces by setting them forward four minutes to each degree, one hour for every fifteen degrees, and of course twenty-four hours for the complete circle. Having changed our time twenty-four hours in going round the world, it is evident that, on returning to the locality whence we started, we find there the same time with which we started, and to conform to that time we must drop out of our count all the variations we have made in traveling. The effect is the same in traveling westward, but the order is reversed.

“It is always a fact that a person starting in China and traveling westward will find that his enumeration of the days of the week will agree with that of every place through which he passes until he again reaches the Pacific, in California. And reversing the order, starting at San Francisco, he may travel eastward, and he will find that his days of the week agree with those of every place through which he passes, until he reaches the other shore of the Pacific. Through Asia, through Europe, across the Atlantic, and through America, no change is found. But let him start from the coast of China and cross the Pacific Ocean and the case is different. On landing at San Francisco he will find his week one day in advance of those living there, unless he corrected his count by one day, on the ocean. And in like manner, if he crosses from California to China, he will find himself one day behind the inhabitants of China unless he corrected his time, by one whole day, on the passage.”

For convenience, navigators have chosen the even 180th degree from Greenwich. This is not the true day line, because it cannot be universal. It passes through a part of Asia and through a small island in the Pacific, and it would create confusion if it were adopted in those places. Perhaps some readers would better appreciate this if we say something more on the necessity of a day line, or of the correction of our time in traveling.

The quotation above says, “When it is noon at Washington it is nine o’clock in the morning at San Francisco.” Then Washington is three hours farther advanced in the same day than San Francisco, and of course Washington will see the next day three hours before it is seen in San Francisco. And he who starts from San Francisco with a watch indicating true time will find that his watch is three hours behind true time when he arrives in Washington. Say I am now writing in San Francisco at noon Monday, April 23. Going instantly to Washington, we find at the same time it is Monday, 3 P. M. The same distance east of Washington we find 6 P. M., and once more the same distance we find 9 P. M. Counting the day from sunset, and it is evident that at some point in the last named distance we suddenly passed from Monday into Tuesday, though it is still Monday where we started. Now if we should insist, inasmuch as we started with true time, and our watches are accurate time-keepers, that therefore they indicated true time at all the places we visit we should find ourselves disagreeing in time with all the people of the several places and with the sun also, the great time indicator.

We are thus explicit on this point to fix on the mind of the reader the fact that we must correct our time in traveling. Having, as supposed, changed our watches nine full hours, it is plain to see that if we return to San Francisco they will vary nine hours from true time here. Hence, we must drop nine hours to restore our reckoning.

We have now seen the necessity of changing our time, but we have not yet found the day line. In traveling eastward we have changed our time to keep us in harmony with the inhabitants of the several places visited, and in this we have succeeded. Continuing our journey we pass to the opposite side of the earth, and our time varies twelve hours from San Francisco time. True, our watches in both places indicate twelve o’clock, but not the same twelve o’clock; one is noon, the other is midnight. Continuing to travel in the same direction the same distance, we will change our time to the same amount, namely, twelve hours more, making twenty-four hours. But this will bring us to our starting place, and again it is twelve, noon, both to us and to the people of the city, but not the same noon according to our reckoning. We have been regularly setting our time pieces forward, and in the whole journey have set them forward twenty-four hours. But if it is Monday noon to the people of San Francisco, and our reckoning is twenty-four hours ahead of theirs, it is, of course, Tuesday noon to us at the same time. Now if we drop twenty-four hours out of our reckoning, one day, we shall restore ourselves to San Francisco time.

Now we come to the interesting point. In our travels we were constantly changing our time-pieces to avoid any discrepancy of time between us and the inhabitants of the different places visited, and we succeeded all the way till we returned to the starting point, and here we found that by the same process, we had run into a discrepancy of twenty-four hours. This is a fact which we cannot ignore. Our earth is a globe—we travel round a circle. Were it an unlimited plane all corrections of time would be in the same direction, travel as far as we would. But as we compass the circle we find the necessity for a general correction of all the gradual changes we have made. This is made by what is called the day line. Such a line exists, as we have shown, in the Pacific Ocean. The line in the Pacific is recognized by all navigators, and is the only place where one can be located to prevent confusion and secure a uniform enumeration of the days of the week.

Two things are necessary in establishing a day line, which we will notice.

First, it must not strike through any habitable land. The 180th degree from Greenwich passes through the north-east part of Asia, and through an island in the Pacific. The only reason why no confusion is found in these points is that the line is not recognized in these points. The line is actually in the waters between Asia and America. Residents on the land need not regard this arbitrary line, and do not. An arbitrary line as the 180th degree, not far from the true line, answers every practical purpose of navigators. If recognized on the land there would be constant confusion, as it would be one day on one side of the line and another on the other side.

Secondly, it must be uniform. If it be in the middle of the ocean it must yet be uniform, or there would be discrepancy of dates. Thus, if a ship going westward should make the change at 170° west from Greenwich, and one going eastward at 190°, and they should meet between those parallels, their dates would not agree. The one going west would, after the change, have the time of Asia, while the one going east, would have changed to the time of America; therefore they could not agree. They would report having met each other on different days! Therefore the line of correction must be known and accepted by all who navigate the Pacific.

The question has been raised, If the tide of emigration had been eastward from Asia, instead of westward, would not the line have been in a different place? Perhaps so; but if it had been in the Atlantic it must unavoidably have passed through large bodies of land. The question is practically settled by this important fact, the tide of emigration was not eastward! We have the proper succession of days established by the word of God, and his providence secures the proper observance of that succession in all lands. We might ask, how would we mark the beginning of the day if the sun did not rise and set? But we should find very little profit in the discussion of the question. The providence and word of God are in harmony; we can no more change one than the other. Let us accept them as they are, and we shall be safe. J. H. WAGGONER.

San Francisco, April 23.

The Churches.

(Condensed from Review and Herald.)*

Southern France.

RUE DU PARC.—Eld. D. T. Bourdeau reports that after the good meeting held near Neuchatel, Suisse, Eld. Andrews accompanied him to Paris and then to Rue du Parc, where his counsels and instructions were gladly received, and several important objects were gained. The people of the place being very much stirred up against those who had commenced to keep the Sabbath, sent for three ministers, who came but were very much enraged because they could not regain those who were inclined to follow the truth. “Sunday,” says Eld. B., “a preacher from the Free church came, and at the close of the forenoon meeting we were rashly ordered out of the hall, that the whole force of our opponents might be brought to bear upon the elder of the church, to persuade him to give up the Sabbath. But the effort was in vain. He was more than a match for them all, and stood like a giant for the despised Sabbath of the Lord, combining prudence with firmness and dignified manners.” Yesterday (April 3), he and three others were excluded from the church.

He has been a teacher for thirty-five years. His wife has also taught with him. He was the principal speaker of the Friends in this city, and is widely known as an upright man among his people. He now asks the privilege of accompanying Eld. B., to act as colporteur, and to learn the truth more perfectly. May the Lord make him an instrument of doing much good.

New York.

PARMA.—Eld. S. B. Whitney gives the following cheering report of the progress of the work in this place:

“The Methodist minister, spoken of in my last report, came on with several of his brethren, and succeeded in confirming the believers and satisfying others that Sunday-keeping has no foundation in the Bible. He was present to hear my reply, after which he made some remarks calculated, as he thought, to destroy the force of all that I had said. But when he had closed, the resident physician, an English gentleman of more than ordinary intelligence and ability, arose and said he thought the time had come when an expression of some kind was due with reference to what they had been listening to, and requested those who had been favorably impressed with Eld. Whitney’s preaching to rise up, when the audience sprang to their feet en masse, as if electrified. Only two or three kept their seats, and when the contrary expression was called for not one arose.

“The leading merchant, another fine English gentleman, closed his store on Friday night, and bore a good testimony in our meeting Sabbath, which was one of the best meetings I have ever attended. Another gentleman who is prominent in the community as a counselor at law, and who has been a backslider for many years, wept freely, and spoke with some feeling. There are now about twenty keeping the Sabbath, and others are very hopeful.

PORTVILLE.—Eld. Canright held six meetings here, commencing April 13, which were a source of great encouragement to all the brethren and sisters. Four were baptized and seven joined the church, making in all some twenty-five or thirty who are now keeping the Sabbath here. In this (Cattaraugus) county there are now three full organized churches, having a total membership of about seventy-five.

Pennsylvania.

PORT ALLEGHENY.—Many years ago the truth was preached in this place and a little church was organized. As it was not visited by any of our ministers from that time until last winter, some apostatized, others moved away, and their meetings were discontinued. Last winter, by special request, Bro. J. G. Saunders held a series of meetings here which revived the old friends of the cause, and a good number of new ones embraced the Sabbath. Eld. Canright and Bro. Reynolds visited them the 9th, held several meetings, and organized a church of thirteen members. Bro. Saunders was elected and ordained elder, and one was baptized. There are now between thirty and forty of S. D. Adventists within twelve miles of this place.

Michigan.

JEROME.—Bro. E. P. Daniels reports regular and unbroken attendance at the meetings held here during the last four weeks. He says that “within the limits of five miles, there are now forty-five trying to keep the law of God. Most of these are in regular attendance at the Sabbath meeting, and take part in the Bible-class. Among these there are nine converted from infidelity and Spiritualism, who are now happy in the hope of eternal life, through obedience towards God and faith in our Lord Jesus Christ.”

Texas.

DECKMAN.—Bro. A. B. Rust reports a good Sabbath meeting recently held in this place, at which twenty-four Sabbath-keepers were present, and says: “The interest to hear is deepening. We believe that many will yet embrace the truth. I have just received a letter from a man some forty-five miles from here to whom I sent the SIGNS. He has now commenced to keep the Sabbath; and he says he has let others have all the reading matter he has had, and that many are interested by reading.”

Indifference to Majority Opinion

No MAN can be in a proper frame of mind for the discovery and reception of truth who is not utterly regardless of the question whether his being in the majority or minority will be the result of his investigations.

Peace of the Poor and Humble

The moment a man gives way to inordinate desires, disquietude and torment take possession of his heart. The proud and the covetous are never at rest; but the poor and the humble possess their souls in the plentitude of peace.

Wholehearted Devotion to Christ

If Christ had our whole hearts, if we were entirely his, we should be more peaceful, happy and holy.

Earnestness and Eminence

No MAN can ever become eminent in any thing, unless he work at it with an earnestness bordering on enthusiasm.—Robert Hall.

The Value of Temper

TEMPER is so good a thing that we should never lose it.

Be Just before Generous.

My friend Peyton was what is called a “fine, generous fellow.” He valued money only as a means of obtaining what he desired, and was always ready to spend it with an acquaintance for mutual gratification. Of course, he was a general favorite. Every one spoke well of him, and few hesitated to give his ears the benefit of their good opinion. I was first introduced to him when he was in the neighborhood of twenty-two years of age. Peyton was then a clerk in the receipt of six hundred dollars a year. He grasped my hand with an air of frankness and sincerity, that at once installed him in my good opinion. A little pleasure excursion was upon the tapis, and he insisted on my joining it. I readily consented. There were five of us, and the expense to each, if borne mutually, would have been something like one dollar. Peyton managed everything, even to paying the bills; and when I offered to pay him my proportion, he said:—

“No, no!”—pushing back my hand—“nonsense!”

“Yes; but I must insist upon meeting my share of the expense.”

“Not a word more. The bill’s settled, and you needn’t trouble your head about it,” was his reply; and he seemed half offended when I still urged upon him to take my portion of the cost.

“What a fine, generous fellow Peyton is!” said one of the party to me, as we met the next day.

“Did he also refuse to let you share in the expense of our excursion?” I asked.

“After what he said to you, I was afraid of offending him by proposing to do so.”

“He certainly is generous—but, I think, to a fault, if I saw a fair specimen of his generosity yesterday.”

“We should be just, as well as generous.”

“I never heard that he was not just.”

“Nor I. But I think he was not just to himself. And I believe it will be found to appear in the end, that, if we are not just to ourselves, we will, somewhere in life, prove unjust to others. I think that his salary is not over twelve dollars a week. If he bore the whole expense of our pleasure excursion, it cost him within a fraction of half his earnings for a week. Had we all shared alike, it would not have been a serious matter to any of us.”

“Oh! as to that, it is no very serious matter to him. He will never think of it.”

“But, if he does so very frequently, he may feel it sooner or later,” I replied.

“I’m sure I don’t know anything about that,” was returned. “He is a generous fellow, and I cannot but like him. Indeed, every one likes him.”

Some days afterwards I fell in with Peyton again, and, in order to retaliate a little, invited him to go and get some refreshments with me. He consented. When I put my hand in my pocket to pay for them, his hand went into his. But I was too quick for him. He seemed uneasy about it. He could feel pleased while giving, but it evidently worried him to be the recipient.

From that time, for some years, I was intimate with the young man. I found that he set no true value upon money. He spent it freely with every one; and every one spoke well of him. “What a generous, whole-souled fellow he is!” or, “What a noble heart he has!” were the expressions constantly made in regard to him. While “Mean, stingy fellow!” and other such epithets, were unsparingly used in speaking of a quiet, thoughtful young man, named Merwin, who was clerk with him in the same store. Merwin appeared to set a due value upon time and money. He rarely indulged himself in any way, and it was with difficulty that he could ever be induced to join in any pleasures that involved much expense. But I always observed that when he did so, he was exact about paying his proportion.

About two years after my acquaintance with Peyton began, an incident let me deeper into the character and quality of his generosity. I called one day at the house of a poor widow woman who washed for me, to ask her to do up some clothes, extra to the usual weekly washing. I thought she looked as if she were in trouble about something, and said so to her.

“It’s very hard, at best,” she replied, “for a poor woman, with four children to provide for, to get along, if she has to depend upon washing and ironing for a living. But when so many neglect to pay her regularly”—

“Neglect to pay their washerwoman!” I said, in a tone of surprise, interrupting her.

“Oh, yes. Many do that!”

“Who?”

“Dashing young men, who spend their money freely, are too apt to neglect these little matters, as they call them.”

“And do young men for whom you work really neglect to pay you?”

“Some do. There are at least fifteen dollars now owed to me, and I don’t know which way to turn to get my last month’s rent for my landlord, who has been after it three times this week already. Mr. Peyton owes me ten dollars and I can’t”—

“Mr. Peyton? It can’t be possible!”

“Yes, it is though. He used to be one of the most punctual young men for whom I washed. But lately he never has any money.”

“He’s a very generous-hearted young man.”

“Yes, I know he is,” she replied. “But something is wrong with him. He looks worried whenever I ask him for money; and sometimes speaks as if half angry with me for troubling him. There’s Mr. Merwin—I wish all were like him. I have never yet taken home his clothes, that I didn’t find the money waiting for me, exact to a cent. He counts every piece when he lays out his washing for me, and knows exactly what it will come to; and then, if he happens to be out, the change is always left with the chambermaid. It’s a pleasure to do anything for him.”

“He isn’t liked generally as well as Mr. Peyton is,” said I.

“Isn’t he? It’s strange!” the poor woman returned, innocently.

On the very next day, I saw Peyton riding out with an acquaintance in a buggy.

“Who paid for your ride yesterday?” I said to the latter, with whom I was quite familiar, when next we met.

“Oh, Peyton, of course. He always pays, you know. He’s a fine, generous fellow. I wish there were more like him.”

“That you might ride out for nothing a little oftener, eh?”

My friend colored slightly.

“No, not that,” said he. “But you know there is so much selfishness in the world; we hardly ever meet a man who is willing to make the slightest sacrifice for the good of others.”

“True. And I suppose it is this very selfishness that makes us so warmly admire a man like Mr. Peyton, who is willing to gratify us at his own charge. It’s a pleasant thing to ride out and see the country, but we are apt to think twice about the cost before we act once. But if some friend will only stand the expense, how generous and whole-souled we think him! It is the same in everything else. We like the enjoyments, but can’t afford the expense; and he is a generous, fine-hearted fellow, who will squander his money in order to gratify us. Isn’t that it, my friend?”

He looked half convinced, and a little sheepish, to use an expressive Saxonism.

On the evening succeeding this day, Peyton sat alone in his room, his head leaning upon his hand, and his brow contracted. There was a tap at his door. “Come in.” A poorly-clad, middle-aged woman entered. It was his washer-woman.

The lines on the young man’s brow became deeper.

“Can’t you let me have some money, Mr.

Peyton? My landlord is pressing hard for his rent, and I cannot pay him until you pay me.”

“Really, Mrs. Lee, it is quite impossible just now. I am entirely out of money. But my salary will be due in three weeks, and then I will pay you up the whole. You must make your landlord wait until that time. I am very sorry to put you to this trouble. But it will never happen again.”

The young man really did feel sorry, and expressed it in his face as well as in the tone of his voice.

“Can’t you let me have one or two dollars, Mr. Peyton? I am entirely out of money.”

“It is impossible—I haven’t a shilling left. But try and wait three weeks, and then it will all come to you in a lump, and do you a great deal more good than if you had it a dollar at a time.”

Mrs. Lee retired slowly, and with a disappointed air. The young man sighed heavily as she closed the door after her. He had been too generous, and now he could not be just. The buggy in which he had driven out with his friend on that day had cost him his last two dollars—a sum which would have lightened the heart of his poor washer-woman.

“The fact is, my salary is too small,” said he, rising and walking about his room uneasily. “It is not enough to support me. If the account were fully made up, tailor’s bill, bootmaker’s bill, and all, I dare say I should find myself at least three hundred dollars in debt.”

Merwin received the same salary that he did, and was just three hundred dollars ahead. He dressed as well, owed no man a dollar, and was far happier. It is true, he was not called a “fine, generous fellow,” by persons who took good care of their own money, while they were very willing to enjoy the good things of life at a friend’s expense. But he did not mind this. The want of such a reputation did not disturb his mind very seriously.

After Mrs. Lee had been gone half an hour, Peyton’s door was flung suddenly open. A young man, bounding in, with extended hand came bustling up to him.

“Ah, Peyton, my fine fellow! How are you! how are you?” And he shook Peyton’s hand quite vigorously.

“Hearty!—and how are you, Freeman?”

“Oh, gay as a lark. I have come to ask a favor of you.”

“Name it.”

“I want fifty dollars.”

Peyton shrugged his shoulders.

“I must have it, my boy! I never yet knew you to desert a friend, and I don’t believe you will do so now.”

“Suppose I haven’t fifty dollars?”

“You can borrow it for me. I only want it for a few days. You shall have it back on next Monday. Try for me—there’s a generous fellow!”

“There’s a generous fellow,” was irresistible. It came home to Peyton in the right place. He forgot poor Mrs. Lee, his unpaid tailor’s bill, and sundry other troublesome accounts.

“If I can get an advance of fifty dollars on my salary to-morrow, you shall have it.”

“Thank you! thank you! I knew I shouldn’t have to ask twice when I called upon Henry Peyton. It always does me good to grasp the hand of such a man as you are.”

On the next day, an advance of fifty dollars was asked and obtained. This sum was loaned as promised. In two weeks, the individual who borrowed it was in New Orleans, from whence he had the best of reasons for not wishing to return to the north. Of course, the generous Henry Peyton lost his money.

An increase of salary to a thousand dollars only made him less careful of his money. Before, he lived as freely as if his income had been one-third above what it was; now, he increased his expenses in like ratio. It was a pleasure to him to spend his money—not for himself alone, but among his friends.

It is no cause of wonder, that in being so generous to some, he was forced to be unjust to others. He was still behindhand with his poor washer-woman—owed for boarding, clothes, hats, boots, and a dozen other matters—and was, in consequence, a good deal harassed with duns. Still, he was called by some of his old cronies, “a fine, generous fellow.” A few were rather colder in their expressions. He had borrowed money from them, and did not offer to return it, and he was such a generous-minded young man, that they felt a delicacy about calling his attention to it.

“Can you raise a couple of thousand dollars?” was asked of him by a friend, when he was twenty-seven years old. “If you can, I know a first-rate chance to get into business.”

“Indeed! What is the nature of it?”

The friend told him all he knew, and he was satisfied that a better offering might never present itself. But two thousand dollars were indispensable.

“Can’t you borrow it?” suggested the friend.

“I will try.”

“Try your best. You will never again have such an opportunity.”

Peyton did try, but in vain. Those who could lend it to him considered him “too good-hearted a fellow” to trust with money; and he was forced to see that tide, which if he could have taken it at the flood, would have led him on to fortune, slowly and steadily recede.

To Merwin the same offer was made. He had fifteen hundred dollars laid by, and easily procured the balance. No one was afraid to trust him with money.

“What a fool I have been!” was the mental exclamation of Peyton, when he learned that his fellow-clerk had been able, with his own earnings, on a salary no larger than his own, to save enough to embrace the golden opportunity which he was forced to pass by. “They call Merwin mean and selfish—and I am called a generous fellow. That means, he has acted like a wise man, and I like a fool, I suppose. I know him better than they do. He is neither mean nor selfish, but careful and prudent, as I ought to have been. His mother is poor, and so is mine. Ah, me!” and the thought of his mother caused him to clasp both hands against his forehead. “I believe two dollars of his salary have been sent weekly to his poor mother. But I have never helped mine a single cent. There is the mean man, and here is the generous one. Fool! fool! wretch! He has fifteen hundred dollars ahead, after having sent his mother one hundred dollars a year for five or six years, and I am over five hundred dollars in debt. A fine, generous fellow, truly!”

The mind of Peyton was, as it should be, disturbed to its very center. His eyes were fairly opened, and he saw just where he stood, and what he was worth as a generous man.

“They have flattered my weakness,” said he, bitterly, “to eat and drink and ride at my expense. It was very easy to say, ‘how free-hearted he is,’ so that I could hear them. ‘A cheap way of enjoying the good things of life, verily!’ But the end of all this has come. One year from to-day, if I live, I will owe no man a dollar. My kind old mother, whom I have so long neglected, shall hear from me at once—ten dollars every month I dedicate to her. Come what will, nothing shall touch that. This agreement with myself I solemnly enter into in the sight of Heaven, and nothing shall tempt me to violate it.”

“Are you going to ride out this afternoon, Peyton?” inquired a young friend, breaking in upon him at this moment.

“Yes, if you’ll hire the buggy,” was promptly returned.

“I can’t afford that.”

“Nor I either. How much is your salary?”

“Only a thousand.”

“Just what mine is. If you can’t, I am sure I cannot.”

“Of course, you ought to be the best judge.

I know you rode out often, and liked company.”

“Yes, I have done so; but that’s past. I’ve been a ‘fine, generous fellow’ long enough to get in debt and mar my prospects for life, perhaps; but I am going to assume a new character. No doubt the very ones who have had so many rides, oyster suppers, and theater tickets at my expense, will all at once discover that I am as mean and selfish as Merwin, who has refrained from not only injurious, expensive indulgences, but even denied himself many innocent pleasures to save time and money for better purposes. I now wish I had been as truly noble and generous in the right direction as he has been.”

Peyton went to work in the matter of reform in right good earnest, but he found it hard work; old habits and inclinations were very strong. Still he had some strength of mind, and he brought this into as vigorous exercise as it was possible for him to do, mainly with success, but sometimes with gentle lapses into self-indulgence.

His mother lived in a neighboring town, and was in humble circumstances. She supported herself by keeping a shop for the sale of various little articles. The old lady sat behind her counter, one afternoon, sewing, and thinking of her only son.

“Ah, me!” she sighed, “I thought Henry would have done something for himself long before this; but he is a wild, free-hearted boy, and I suppose spends every thing as he goes.”

“Here’s a letter for you at last, Mrs. Peyton,” said the well-known voice of the postman, breaking in upon her just at this moment. “That boy of yours don’t write home as often as he used to.”

With trembling hands, Mrs. Peyton broke the seal; a bank-bill crumpled in her fingers as she opened the letter. A portion of its contents was:—

“DEAR MOTHER—I have had some very serious thoughts of late about my way of living. You know I never liked to be considered mean; this led me to be, what seemed to everybody, very generous. Everybody was pleased to eat, and drink, and ride at my expense; but no one seemed inclined to let me do the same at his expense. I have been getting a good salary for six or seven years, and, for a part of that time, as much as a thousand dollars. I am ashamed to say that I have not a farthing laid by; nay, what is worse, I owe a good many little bills. But, dear mother, I think I have come fairly to my senses. I have come to a resolution not to spend a dollar foolishly; thus far I have been able to keep my promise to myself, and, by the help of Heaven, I mean to keep it to the end. My first thought, on seeing my folly, was of my shameful disregard to my mother’s condition. In this letter are ten dollars. Every month you will receive from me a like sum—more, if you need it. As soon as I can lay by a sufficient amount, I will look around for some means of entering into business, and, as soon after as possible, make provision for you, that your last days may be spent in ease and comfort.”

“God bless the dear boy!” exclaimed Mrs. Peyton, dropping the letter, while the tears gushed from her eyes. The happy mother wept long for joy. With her trembling hand she wrote a reply, and urged him, by the tenderest and most sacred considerations, to keep to his good resolutions.

At the end of a year Peyton examined his affairs and found himself freed from debt; but there were nearly one hundred dollars for which he could not account. He puzzled over it for two or three evenings, and made out over fifty dollars spent foolishly.

“No doubt the rest will have to be charged to that account,” said he at last, half angry with himself. “I’ll have to watch closer than this. At the end of the next year, I’ll not be in doubt about where one hundred dollars have gone.”

It was but rarely, now, that you would hear the name of Peyton mentioned. Before, everybody said he was a “fine, generous fellow,” everybody praised him. Now he seemed to be forgotten, or esteemed of no consideration. He felt this; but he had started to accomplish a certain end, and he had sufficient strength of mind not to be driven from his course.

In a few years he entered into business and succeeded beyond his expectations. He provided a home for his mother, and no one who saw her during the remaining ten years of her life would have called her unhappy.

I know Peyton still. He is not now, by general reputation, “a fine, generous fellow.” But he is a good and respected citizen, and was a good son while his mother lived with him. He has won the means of really benefiting others, and few are more willing than he is to do it, when it can be done in the right way. He is still “generous”—but wisely so.

Texts which Discountenance the Use of Wine and Fermented Liquors.

AS ALREADY remarked, having shown that two kinds of wine are recognized in the Bible, one of which was wholesome, the other harmful—though often referred to by the same terms—it is most reasonable to suppose that when wine is spoken of in terms of commendation, that which was wholesome is referred to; and when the opposite terms are employed, the contrary kind of wine is meant. This principle should be borne in mind in considering the following scriptures, which are a few of those which condemn the use of wine and strong drink:—

“Wine is a mocker, strong drink is raging; and whosoever is deceived thereby is not wise.” Prov. 20: 1.

No language could better describe the real character of wine and strong drink than the words of the wise man. “Wine is a mocker,” or in other words, a deceiver. It deludes the drinker with the fancy that it does him good, while it is all the time sapping his life and leading him to certain ruin.

“Woe unto them that rise up early in the morning that they may follow strong drink; that continue until night, till wine inflame them.” Isa. 5:11.

There is no solace here for the drunkard. In addition to the immediate ills which he brings upon himself by his revelings, the Almighty has pronounced a woe upon him.

“For the drunkard and the glutton shall come to poverty.” Prov. 23: 21.

Every one has seen the truth of this scripture repeatedly exemplified in the downward career of the drinker, who sinks from bad to worse, squanders his property, and not infrequently dies at last in the poor house or on the public highway.

“Who hath woe? who hath sorrow? who hath contentions? who hath babbling? who hath wounds without cause? who hath redness of eyes? They that tarry long at the wine; they that go to drink mixed wine.” Prov. 23: 29, 30.

The truthful picture which inspiration has here drawn of the real experience of the drunkard is in strong contrast with the glowing descriptions of delightful exhilaration and pleasurable sensations which the tempter gives as the effects of alcohol. No one will dispute the accuracy of the inspired Word who has carefully observed the effects of wine.

“Look not thou upon the wine when it is red, when it giveth his color in the cup, when it moveth itself aright. At the last it biteth like a serpent, and stingeth like an adder.” Prov. 23: 31, 32.

The wise man here gives a very precise description of fermented wine, and then admonishes us that we should not even look upon it, much less taste it. Surely, this is countenancing the most rigid total abstinence. How can moderate drinkers who believe in the divine origin of the Bible, continue to indulge in even the mildest fermented liquor, in the face of this admonition!

“But judge this rather, that no man put a stumbling-block or an occasion to fall in his brother’s way,” Rom. 14: 13.

This text does not mention wine, but it is a very powerful rebuke to those moderate drinkers who maintain that it is only the excess of wine that is harmful, and that so long as they indulge moderately, no one has the right to question the propriety of their course. Some persons may possess sufficient will power to enable them to continue a course of moderate tippling for many years; but their example in using wine will lead to perdition many less resolute persons who have likewise begun as moderate drinkers, but, lacking power to control the appetite for drink, end their career in drunkard’s graves. The Bible makes the moderate drinker in great degree responsible for the sins and excesses of his weaker brother who fell through attempting to follow an example which he lacked the power to fully imitate.

Here are the qualities of good and bad wine contrasted:—

BAD WINE.	GOOD WINE.
Fermented.	Unfermented.
Contains alcohol.	Contains no alcohol.
Poisonous.	Wholesome.
Intoxicating.	Unintoxicating.
Produced by decay.	Produced by natural growth.
A symbol of wrath.	A symbol of blessing.
“Wine is a mocker.”	“Cheereth God and man.”
“Look not thou upon the wine when it is red.”	“Use a little wine for thy stomach’s sake.”
“Strong drink is raging.”
“Poison of dragons.”
“Cruel venom of asps.”	“Maketh the heart glad.”
“Biteth like a serpent and stingeth like an adder.”
“Woe unto him that giveth his neighbor drink, that puttest thy bottle to him.”	“And he took the cup, and gave thanks, and gave it to them saying, Drink ye all of it.”

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