p. 12 | Review and Herald, Vol. 93, No. 40. (8/10/1916)

Open Visions

By G. I. BUTLER

G. I. BUTLER

BEFORE we enter upon the consideration of this phase of the question, we wish to recapitulate one point in a preceding article, namely, that the same prophetic gift which was given to John the apostle was to be given to the last church on earth—the remnant church. “The Revelation of Jesus Christ, which God gave unto him, to show unto his servants things which must shortly come to pass; and he sent and signified it by his angel unto his servant John: who bare record of the word of God, and of the testimony of Jesus Christ, and of all things that he saw.” Here we have a record of God’s way of revealing through visions his word to his people. God gave his word to Jesus Christ, Jesus gave it to his angel Gabriel, the angel revealed it to the beloved disciple John, and he gave it to God’s people. This in substance is the way God gives all his visions to his chosen agencies. And this is called “the testimony of Jesus.”

On the remnant church of Rev. 12:17 the same gift is bestowed. “The dragon [Satan] was wroth with the woman [the church], and went to make war with the remnant of her seed, which keep the commandments of God, and have the testimony of Jesus Christ.” That term is defined by Inspiration itself in the words, “The testimony of Jesus is the spirit of prophecy.” Rev. 19:10. The spirit of prophecy is that manifestation of the Spirit of God which enables God’s chosen instrument to have visions of God, and to outline events, past, present, and future, which could not otherwise be known.

Let the interested reader observe that John himself, in writing the wonderful book of Revelation, had this gift,—the testimony of Jesus,—and that the same precious gift is conferred upon God’s chosen instrument in the last church on earth, the remnant church. That gift to John was invaluable to the world and to God’s people. The same gift has been invaluable to the remnant church, which has for seventy years been proclaiming the third angel’s message. Indeed, any one who knows the history of this movement knows that the work could never have been originated or carried to a successful completion without it, as we shall clearly show hereafter.

The visions of the chosen agent began to be given just after the great disappointment of 1844, and a little before the beginning of the proclamation of the third angel’s message, and they continued to be given for nearly seventy years, or until a brief period before her death. This matter was not hidden in a corner, but has been connected intimately with the history of this Seventh-day Adventist movement, now almost encircling the earth. We should be exceedingly glad that God ever so honored us as a people as to give this great source of enlightenment. For many ages no other people have been so honored. The blessed light has helped us through many a dark, trying experience.

“The child Samuel ministered unto the Lord before Eli. And the word of the Lord was precious in those days; there was no open vision.” 1 Sam. 3:1. It was an exceedingly dark period in the history of Israel. Eli’s wicked sons seemed to have complete rule over the nation. God could not consistently manifest himself to them under such conditions. The lad Samuel, the son of the devout Hannah, by whom he was dedicated to the Lord before his birth, was soon to be chosen to be a prophet of the Lord and have many open visions. God first manifested himself in vision to Samuel when he was perhaps six or eight years old, terribly reproving the aged high priest of the nation. Samuel became one of the greatest of the prophets.

Open visions are given in a way to be observed by the people present, as convincing evidence of their reality and genuineness. Their characteristics are noted in the Scriptures. If given only in secret, there would be a great chance for doubt and uncertainty. Open visions are an evidence of reality and authenticity, and are valuable as such. All prophets are also given visions in various other ways. The very fact that open visions are mentioned indicates that there are visions that are not open. These are helpful and valuable for the special instruction of the prophet and to impart light.

There is a striking similarity in the call of the little lad Samuel to be a great prophet, and the call of the young, feeble girl, bashful, retiring, and given up by the doctors to die of tuberculosis. She was but seventeen years of age. Who could then have supposed she would live to the age of nearly eighty-seven years, and accomplish such a great and important work as she did? These results are wholly attributable to the power given by the Most High. God can take the weakest agencies and clothe them with power from above to do great things. None but he can do this. He can take “a worm to thrash a mountain.” Nothing is too difficult for him to perform. His word has spoken worlds into existence. All the universe is governed by his power and kept in motion in sublime unity. He accomplishes his purposes by agencies man would never think of using.

The Beginning of the Harvest in Szechuan, China

By F. A. ALLUM

F. A. ALLUM

After almost two years of seed sowing in Szechuan, we are now beginning to reap the harvest. Last Sabbath was indeed a blessed day, when fifteen precious souls were buried with their Lord in baptism. Eleven of these were men, and four were women, and only four had ever been members of other missions. They were a very intelligent class of candidates, and we believe several of them will make excellent workers,—our greatest need in this field just now. A daily class was held with the candidates for two weeks before the baptism, during which time all important points of the message were covered. Others also have requested baptism, and we hope to see them go forward later, after they have received further instruction. After the baptism we had the ordinances of the Lord's house. Our church membership is now thirty. We are greatly encouraged, and believe that we shall see still greater things here in Szechuan.

Our school work is growing. We now have four day schools, with an attendance of one hundred and ten, nearly all of whom are paying students. Most of them attend our Sabbath services. We are conducting daily Bible classes in all the schools. This is a very interesting feature of our work here at present.

We now have four colporteurs in the field, who are doing excellent work, considering the political conditions here. With the rebellion and with robbers all around, conditions are very unfavorable. When we consider the frightened condition of the people, it seems marvelous that the colporteurs can make any sales at all; but within the last week or two we have received no less than one hundred and twenty-eight subscriptions from two colporteurs, and these have come from a district which has just recently been in the hands of the robbers.

The interest created by the colporteurs in the town of Hochow continues, and we have secured a chapel there. This is the town which was partly burned by robbers a short time ago. I am planning to go there next week with an evangelist, to conduct a special series of meetings. Thus we see that literature is the forerunner of the message in this place, as in others.

We have been having some very hard thunderstorms. During one of these the lightning struck the chimney of our house, and splintered the casings of our attic door, sending some pieces of wood no less than thirty-seven feet away. The lightning traveled down the brick wall, disturbing some of the plaster, and killed our dog, which was lying on the front porch. Our baby, who was lying asleep in an iron cot within one foot of where the lightning struck, was not in any way harmed, although his bed was strewn with plaster, splintered wood, and glass. The damage done to our house did not amount to more than a dollar, Mexican. We recognize in this our heavenly Father's special protection. During the same storm, several persons in the city were killed. Since then we have had several other storms. In all, no less than five places near us have been struck by lightning. These occurrences are a call to us to be always ready; yet we firmly believe that our heavenly Father has a special protection over his children.

A Colporteur's Experiences in South China

By Floyd E. Bates

FLOYD E. BATES

A FEW days ago, during a conversation with one of our canvassers here in Fukien Province, he related to me a few of his experiences, which I thought might be of interest to those in the homeland; so I will tell them in his own words as nearly as I can remember. He said:—

“Many times as I have traveled back and forth in the interior, the Lord has miraculously cared for me. Not long ago I went into some new territory where our paper [the Chinese Signs of the Times] had not been sold. As I was going from one village to another, I chanced upon a strip of ground covered with tall grass. Not wishing to lose the time necessary to go a great distance around by the road, I started directly across this piece of grass land to the village I could see in the distance. For some ways the grass was only about knee high, but as I drew nearer the village it became deeper and deeper, until I could not see over it. I wandered about some time trying to find my way out, but could not. Also the way by which I had entered had so filled up that I could not retrace my steps. Standing there in this green sea in which I was now entirely submerged, I tried to look about, but was unable to see a thing except the blue sky above. I shouted, but no answer. I called many times, but evidently I was out of the range of any human ear. Then I bowed before the Lord in prayer, seeking his assistance. Just as I was rising from my prayer, I heard a voice calling. I answered, and by the direction of that voice was led directly to the village, which, a few minutes before, I had almost given up hope of reaching.”

“A few minutes later, upon meeting the man who had called, I asked him why he had called me. He said that his wife had suddenly been taken with a severe pain in her heart, and he had gone out in search of help. On seeing a commotion in the grass, he thought perhaps a traveling doctor [of whom there are many in the interior of China] might be passing along, and so he called.

“At another time I was walking along a rather lonely road far in the interior, with my bundle of books in my hand. [It is the custom among Chinese traveling in the interior to carry all their belongings—clothes, money, food, and whatever else they may want for their journey—in a little bundle in the hand or on the shoulder.] There were few travelers on the road, and most of the time I walked alone. Walking thus solitarily, I was somewhat startled to see a man suddenly step out of a bypath, look cautiously up and down the road, and on seeing me, step quickly back again. He was some distance ahead of me, but I could plainly see that he carried a long knife, and was dressed in a manner that identified him with a band of robbers that had been infesting that section of the country for some time. As soon as I had passed his hiding place, he stepped out behind me and followed me closely. I was much frightened, for these men are noted for their disregard of human life. My situation was rapidly becoming perilous, and something must be done quickly. Finally I struck upon a plan. I turned quickly and, facing him, opened my bundle of books and gave him a canvass. While I was doing this, he looked carefully into my bundle. Seeing nothing there of value to him, he turned and left me.

“On another occasion I entered a strange village late at night. It was very dark, and the people had evidently all gone to bed. For some time I walked the streets, trying to find a place where I could stay for the night, but met no

one. Again I called upon the Lord to help, and soon I met several men coming out of a building. They directed me to the home of a rich man a short distance away. On arriving there I was treated very kindly. As soon as I told them who I was and the work in which I was engaged, they sent out to the neighbors and gathered in quite a company. I spoke to them nearly an hour on the important truths of God's Word; they then began to ask questions, thus continuing our meeting till after midnight. When the guests had departed, I was given the best room in the house [an honor that is usually conferred only upon guests of high rank].”

Many such experiences are told us by our native workers. Through such instruments as this young man in the hands of God, the truth for this time is going to all parts of our field. The workers are constantly opening up new territory, which soon calls loudly for a teacher.

Up to this time we have been very much handicapped by the lack of trained workers, and also by the lack of means for training them; but with the opening of our school this fall, this difficulty will to a large extent be overcome. For this we are indeed very thankful to our heavenly Father.

Kulangsu, Amoy.

A Battle with a Snake

In the interior of Nigeria, West Africa, where Brother D. C. Babcock is pioneering among Mohammedans, he had the following experience one night with a big boa constrictor. He says:—

“I am glad we built our house up from the ground high enough to make us safe from large snakes. There seem to be many of them here. Often we see the tracks where they have crawled across the road. One kept visiting Brother Morgue Duncan’s place at intervals of about two weeks. Brother Duncan and some of our boys decided to sit up and watch for it. About ten o’clock one night I was aroused from my sleep by fearful yells. I jumped from my bed only half awake, thinking that the natives were fighting, and ran out to go downstairs, when the cry reached my ears from both sides of the house, “Big snake, big snake!” I got my revolver, and in my night garments, barefooted, I started for the scene.”

“The snake had crossed the road, leaving the house of Brother Duncan, and was in the big grass, making for its hiding place. The boys were so excited and were raising such a tumult that I could not locate the snake. Brother Duncan quieted them, and then told me to listen. I soon heard it breaking the large stems of grass as it crawled along. I knew from the sound that we had a battle on hand. Brother Duncan followed just behind me with a reflecting lantern. I knew we must act quickly, before the snake got ready to meet us. I rushed toward it, with Brother Duncan at my heels, and we soon came upon it. I must confess that when I got a view of only a part of the snake, I was somewhat frightened, but I fired on it. The first shot entered its body about one foot from its tail. I then got within about eight feet of it, and emptied my revolver. One shot went through its body, and I saw three bullets tear up the scales, but glance off.

“The snake then crawled under a ledge of rock, but we did not give up the chase. I reloaded, and we lay down flat, and crawled up to the edge of the rock, pushing our lantern ahead of us. We soon located it about seven feet away. I emptied my revolver into it. The snake came out again. I reloaded, and the boys got around it with burning grass, and we closed in on it. It raised its head about six feet and made for us. All ran but one of my boys, and he held the firebrand quite near the snake and called for me. The boy’s bravery gave me courage. I went close enough to get a shot at its head. One shot struck just below the head, and completely paralyzed the reptile. Thus ended my first experience with a boa constrictor.”

Trip up the Pearl River to Canton

By J. E. FULTON

J. E. FULTON

In company with Pastor B. L. Anderson and Brethren A. L. Ham and P. V. Thomas, I left Hongkong by the night steamer “Kwangsai” for Canton. We sailed at 9 P. M., expecting to reach Canton at daylight. Hongkong is built on a hill, and from out the darkness the view of this city, with its thousands of electric lights, is a most beautiful sight. On both sides of the harbor great searchlights were turned on the waters to disclose the movements of every craft. The lights, like great eyes, were cast searchingly upon our steamer as we passed out of Hongkong to enter the Pearl River on our way to Canton.

The night was foggy, and some time after midnight we lost our bearings, and ran aground in a shallow place, without any mishap, however; but we remained aground till daylight, when with help we got afloat again. This gave us opportunity to see the great rice fields, Chinese gardens, and orchards of litchi on the banks of this great river, and also some of the large and small towns and villages and country dwellings of the millions of Chinese.

A Terrible Sight

As I stood on the deck of the steamer, gazing out at the strange craft and the men rushing hither and thither in quest of their daily food, I spied in the water just ahead of our steamer a black object floating. Leaning over the steamer’s rail, I saw it was the body of a man; and as the waves made by our steamer washed over the body, it was caused to move up and down so as to be more plainly visible. I glanced upward to the English captain, but he gave the body hardly a casual glance, and passed on. I then watched the small sampans and other boats which were passing near, but they, too, were busy, and left the body to float on. Nobody seemed to be disturbed by this common sight. Poor fellow! no one to give him even the burial of a criminal. He may have been robbed and drowned; may have fallen overboard; or, in the desperation that hunger brings, may have chosen to end his life. Some mother’s son gone,—but more, one who might have become an adopted son of God had closed his life’s record. This is only a common incident in the history of this people. There is a fearful lack of sympathy. Men and women grow callous.

The world is waiting to be loved. When Jesus saw the multitudes, he was moved with compassion. Are our hearts thus moved? What a call for missionaries with the spirit of Jesus in their hearts!

Canton

Canton is the largest city of China, and is the largest city of non-Christian people in the world,—two million inhabitants. Canton is a great shipping center. Large ocean-going steamers can run up the river and anchor at the city to load cargoes of silk, tea, and rice. This was the first city of China to open up trade with Europe. Canton is built in a fertile delta country, at a point where several rivers meet, and has an important trade as well with the southern provinces of China.

Many of the English and American missions have headquarters in Canton. It has long been a missionary center. Many years ago Robert Morrison lived and labored here. At that time the prejudices of the Chinese were very strong, and he and other missionaries had great difficulties to encounter.

For a number of years Seventh-day Adventists have been established here, with mission headquarters at Tung-shan, just outside the city, and a boys’ school in the city. Here some fine young men and boys are receiving an education in the message and in those things essential to make them efficient workers. Some are supporting themselves by canvassing in this great city. Great possibilities are before us in the circulation of our literature, and we are glad our young men are receiving a training to engage in this important branch of our work. Not only does it become, as in our enlightened countries, a great missionary enterprise, but also a means of livelihood to those struggling for an education.

Our girls’ school is located in connection with the mission headquarters. The school is greatly crowded, and numbers who could pay their way are being refused entrance. An addition to the present building is urgently needed. The girls look very bright and happy. Some are engaged in lace making, others in weaving cloth. Some very strong cloth of nice patterns is made by our girls.

We were sorry our stay in this most interesting place was cut short by appointments at other places. Canton is an important center, and our work in it is progressing. Great opportunities are opening up before us. Brother Ham is in charge of our work in this place.

A Good Foundation

By MRS. L. D. AVERY-STUTTLE

MRS. L. D. AVERY-STUTTLE

In order to have a good building, it is absolutely necessary to have a good foundation. It is not of very much moment whether the paint is white or black, or whether the decorations are of the latest pattern. The rooms may be large or small. But whether the building be cottage or palace, unless it stands upon a good foundation, it is worthless; yes, it is really dangerous.

Across the street, less than a year ago, three cottages were erected, whose foundation walls were condemned and pronounced quite unsafe even before they were completed. For some cause, the architect or owner unwisely insisted upon taking the risk, and the cottages were built. But it took only a few weeks of soaking rains and continued bad weather to ruin the walls and completely to undermine the foundations. Then the bad workmanship began to show, and the poor material which had entered into the walls could no longer be hidden. The only alternative, of course, was the expensive one of tearing down the original foundations, laboriously removing the débris, and employing honest workmen to rebuild.

As I watched this, I fell to moralizing, and I said: 'If the poor workmanship and bad material cannot endure the test of time in the building, and are not only discovered, but make direful trouble in the end, how much more certain it is that in character building, like causes will produce like effects; if it is disastrous to use poor material in the first case, it is doubly so in the second.'

When a young lad so far forgets himself as to use discourteous and rude language to his mother and sisters; when he chooses and enjoys the company of wild and profane boys; when he loves to imitate the swaggering gait and boisterous manners of street loafers; and worse than all, when he finds himself enjoying and even craving the nauseating fumes of the deadly cigarette,—by any of these signs, he may know of a certainty that he is voluntarily putting poor material into his character building.

The other day a young man came to me in sore trouble. He had professed conversion and united with the church. But he had indulged in the cigarette habit since childhood, until his will-power was weakened and his moral sense dulled; and now he was finding to his dismay that the material which he had used in his character building was not able to stand the test of circumstances. He had been thrown into the company of old associates, and had found to his shame that he was unable, or at least lacked the moral courage, to resist temptation.

The power of the Almighty alone can give victory; but unless we coöperate with divine agencies, unless we become 'workers together with him,' how can we expect him to work for us? We must not voluntarily indulge in habits which weaken the will and pervert the moral sense. Christ asks us to coöperate with him; then it matters not how far we may have plunged into the black mire of sin, he will give us strength and healing and victory.

I appeal to parents and teachers to instil into the young heart the great truth that it is a wonderful thing to be able in the strength of the Lord to build a noble, symmetrical character. Let the foundation stones be carefully laid with prayer and study of the Word. Let the Holy Spirit aid in the selection of material that is fitting, and let the wise Master Builder instruct and dictate.

When Mollie comes in from her play impatient and rude, the wise mother will not add fuel to the fire by using language fully as unkind and rude as that of the child. Children are great imitators. A large part of their education consists in following the example set them by their elders.

Happy is the child whose parents daily seek the wisdom which comes from above, that they may be able to instruct and aid their little ones in selecting good material for their character building.

“Twenty Minutes Earlier”

In the heat of an unseasonably hot morning, Mrs. Blair stood in the kitchen kneading down her bread. It was a large baking, and she was perspiring freely. At a warning hiss she raised her eyes, and saw that the starch cooking for the laundress was boiling over. At the same time there was a wail from the nursery, and the milkman rang the bell next door. The bottles stood with the other unwashed dishes in the sink.

Her lips tightening nervously, Mrs. Blair flew to the rescue of the starch, leaving a smudge of flour on the range, hastily rinsed the bottles and set them upon the porch, leaving another white mark on the door. The increasing volume of the wails above made her hasten to bring down the youngest Blair and put him in the high chair out of reach of mischief until she finished her bread. But no sooner were her hands in the flour than the telephone rang with an insistent, nerve-racking jingle.

Mrs. Blair flew to the hall.

“Yes; tonight? All right. A what? No, indeed, I can’t. I’m head over heels in work now. Yes, I’m sorry, but I can’t. Good-by.”

“What next!” she exclaimed in irritation. “With the washerwoman in the laundry, and bread to bake, Sarah’s blue dress to finish before tomorrow night, and the housework not touched yet! Everything to be done at once, and now, on top of it all, company! And Jim wanting special pudding! I don’t see how I’ll ever get done!”

“I wouldn’t mind working until I was dead tired if I ever seemed to get done!” she said to herself as she turned the hot water into the dish pan. With tantalizing perversity, the stream of water glanced a cup, and sent a shower out upon the floor. In bending to wipe it up, she stepped upon the hem of her apron and pulled it loose.

“I declare,” she exclaimed, as she soused the glasses in their hot bath, “it beats all how muddled up I do get. Other women get done; why don’t I? I’m sure I’m at it from morning till night. Let’s see—bread to bake, baby to dress, dinner to get, house isn’t touched, dress to fix, company—” Aghast, she began drying the dishes, her lips twitching nervously.

“Mrs. Blair,” shrilled Lizzie, the laundress, “there ain’t enough washin’ powder.”

Mrs. Blair carried a box of powder to the stairs and dropped it into Lizzie’s hand. Her eyes noted the disorder of the cellar-way cupboard wearily. She had intended to clean those shelves this morning.

“I can’t stand another interruption!” she said aloud, and at that moment the baby succeeded in his earnest attempt to reach the jar of sirup on the table. The result was disastrous to his clothing.

Mrs. Blair hastened to snatch it from him and pick him from the chair.

“Oh, oh!” she moaned, as she unbuttoned his night clothes, bathed his face and hands, and put him into clean rompers. She thought wildly of running away, but the work would still be waiting when she came back.

With lips pressed tight, she began to work faster.

“If I ever get done,” she kept saying to herself. “But I never do. Mrs. Hall always has time for a nap in the afternoon with her baby; and that little Jennie Wells sits on the porch every morning before dinner. Neither of them seems to work as hard as I do.”

The work went on with constant interruptions, from the laundry, from the baby, from the telephone. Before dinner she dashed out to the chicken house to feed the hens, and coming in, remembered that she hadn’t sent the grocery order for supper.

“If I called Jim, he’d forget all about it. And it isn’t likely they’ll bring it in time. But I’ll just have to risk it, for I simply can’t take time to dress and go down town.”

With set lips and tired muscles, Mrs. Blair worked on. “The day will end sometime, I am glad to say, and I can rest, whether I’m done or not!”

When the children came from school the work was accomplished, but Mrs. Blair was not yet dressed.

“Hang up your cap, Junior,” she reminded her son. “Twins, take baby into the yard, and don’t let him get dirty. And Sarah, you’d better do part of your lessons now. Father will want you to help entertain his company tonight. I believe I’ll rest a few minutes before I dress.”

Stretched out on the couch, Mrs. Blair was too tired to relax. Staring tensely at the ceiling, she caught Sarah’s words as she translated aloud from her Latin.

“By Cæsar all things must be done at once,” she murmured.

“Was he keeping house?” questioned Mrs. Blair, wearily.

“Why, no, mother, of course not. Cæsar was a great general,” explained Sarah. “What made you think he was keeping house?”

“Because that’s the way it is when you keep house. Everything has to be done at once. Well, go on. Did he get done?”

“I guess so,” said Sarah. “But, then, he didn’t do the things himself. He sent other people to do them. He just sort of—”

“Bossed the job,” murmured Mrs. Blair.

“Teacher says it’s harder to find a man who can set other people to work than it is to find workers. She says a man who can oversee work is sure to be successful.”

“Maybe so.”

Mrs. Blair was quiet during the supper and all through the evening. She usually was quiet, but there was an atmosphere of thoughtfulness about her which attracted her husband’s notice.

“What is it, Marty? Counting how many things you’re going to do tomorrow?”

“Not exactly,” replied his wife. “I was just wondering—have you wound the clock?” she asked suddenly.

“Not yet.”

“I’ll do it.” She put the clock upon the table and crept into bed.

“Sarah,” said Mrs. Blair at breakfast, “you may clear off the table and wash the dishes.”

“But, mother,” objected Sarah, “I never have more than time to curl my hair and get to school.”

“You will this morning,” said her mother quietly. “We got up twenty minutes earlier. Be sure to put the milk bottles and tickets on the porch.”

“Jim” (Mr. Blair rattled his paper to show he heard), “I wish you’d feed the chickens before you go.”

“But, Marty, I never have time to more than catch my car.”

“You will this morning. We got up twenty minutes earlier. Junior, sweep off the porches and the walk to the gate. You’ve time—”

“We got up twenty minutes earlier,” finished her son.

Mrs. Blair’s eyes twinkled as she turned to the twins.

“Make the beds, girls, then bring me your ribbons; and if baby is awake, help him downstairs.”

“Have we time?” doubtfully.

“Plenty.”

“Here are some eggs, Marty. Those hens of mine keep laying pretty well.”

Mrs. Blair smiled at the possessive tone; it was the first time he had been to the hencoop since the hens were bought.

“Porches are done, mother,” announced her son.

“So are the dishes. Will my dress be done by tonight, mother?”

“Yes,” answered Mrs. Blair, taking a hot iron from the stove.

“I thought you were afraid—” began Sarah.

“It will be done.”

“We got up twenty minutes earlier,” said Junior.

“Suppose we did! Mother couldn’t make a dress in twenty minutes.”

“I suppose not. Still, six times twenty is one hundred and twenty minutes, or two hours. Right, mother?”

“Right, son.”

“Come on to school, Junior,” cried Sarah. “You and mother are always having jokes nobody understands.”

Quiet settled on the house. Smiling at the baby who was playing contentedly, she turned to her work. The aggravating feeling of hurry, of having more tasks piled up than she could accomplish, had all disappeared. As she rubbed the hot iron over the tablecloth, Mrs. Blair spoke aloud.

“Who would think that twenty minutes could make such a difference? As Junior counted, though, it’s two whole hours! To think I had to go back to history to find it out!”

Three o’clock found Mrs. Blair, having had a nap with the baby, on the front porch, Sarah’s dress in her lap, her husband’s favorite pudding steaming on the kitchen range. Four o’clock, and the children home; Mrs. Blair nodded smilingly.

“Your dress is just done, Sarah. Will you please see if the pudding has enough water in it?”

Mr. Blair noticed his wife’s cheerful face and dainty dress at once. “More company?”

“No—only my family and—Cæsar!”

“Cæsar who? Tell us, mother!”

“Well, I’ve found myself lately unable to get through my work. You all know how irritable I’ve been. Yesterday, Sarah told me.”

“I?”

“Yes. You said, ‘By Cæsar all things must be done at once.’ I sympathized with him, until you told me he only had other people do those things for him. So I began to study it out. There were the breakfast dishes; they were usually a drag in the morning. The upstairs could go, and it very often did, but it always worried me. The hens weren’t ever fed until noon; sometimes not then. So I set the clock forward twenty minutes, and we got up that much earlier. Father fed the hens, Jimmie swept the porches, Sarah washed the dishes, the twins made the beds. With such a good start I got my work done without the usual irritating hurry. From now on, we’ll get up twenty minutes earlier.”

“Thirty minutes, Marty, if it makes such a difference to you.”

“Or an hour,” suggested Sarah. “The best mother anybody ever had, and we all shoved our work upon her!”

“Now, do you see why six times twenty is two hours?” teased Junior.

“Six times twenty—To be sure!”

— Onward.

Conducted by Mrs. I. H. Evans, Takoma Park, Washington D. C

By Mrs. I. H. Evans; Miss Lora E. Clement

Assisted by Miss Lora E. Clement

Through the columns of this department, hints will be given on all matters pertaining to the home life. Short articles and letters are solicited from home makers, telling of their everyday experiences,—their joys and sorrows, their failures and successes.

Forgiveness

By G. S. HONEYWELL

G. S. HONEYWELL

If we knew the weight of sorrow That is hidden in the heart When one humbly asks forgiveness, We should never say, “Depart,” While an angel moves the waters Where the trembling teardrops start.

It was not the mind of Jesus E’er to turn the least away, But he ever taught forgiveness, As he ever taught to pray, “Lord, forgive us our trespasses, E’en as we forgive alway.”

Ever heed the words of Jesus, In your heart keep open door, Quick apply the “balm of Gilead”— “Go in peace, and sin no more,” Then claim his forgiving mercy, And his matchless grace adore.

Punta Gorda, Fla.

Why Clothes Should be Boiled

SOME housekeepers believe in boiling the clothes before rubbing, and some do not believe in boiling them at all. Others believe that clothes are made yellow by boiling. Boiling does not make clothes yellow. Clothes become yellow when they are improperly rinsed, when there is iron in the water or a deposit of iron is formed from the boiler, or by the use of an impure soap. On the other hand, boiling takes an important part in the dissolution and removal of the soap, which expert housekeepers, who know that the soap must be removed if the clothes are to keep their color and wearing qualities, will recognize as an indisputable reason why the clothes should be boiled,—and boiled after rubbing. In these days of sterilizing, it seems illogical to accept unboiled clothes as clean.—Woman's Home Companion.

A Mother's Prayer

By Marian Kepperley

Lord, fill my heart with a deep desire To know thee better still; That through me this dear child of mine, May sweetly know thy will.

I would not hide from her dear eyes The sunshine of thy face; And that she, too, may know thee well, Oh grant me fuller grace!

— Marian Kepperley.

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