Earlier text: Whisky and LiteratureGiving While in Debt.
By Editor
THE question often arises in the minds of conscientious people, "Am I at liberty to contribute to benevolent objects while I am in debt? While I am owing money, all my income beyond my support ought to go to my creditors, hence I can give nothing till after I pay what I owe. Will the candid and honest doubter allow us a few words that may help him to a conclusion? 1. If it is established that no one can give money for benevolence while he is yet owing money for just debts, then not one in five thousand would ever give to any cause whatever, for not more than one in that number is accustomed to sleep free of debt. It is the usage of our times to pay at the end of a week, or of the month, or of the quarter. Debt in some form is so universal, that a rule of this kind would per force suspend all benevolence. 2. If this should be given out as the rule that no one should give in charity or benevolence while he is in debt, there are some stupid and avaricious souls who would involve themselves on purpose, and make the Christian duty of paying debts first, a reason for not obeying a divine command. 3. We may learn the will of the Lord in this matter by recalling his enactments for Israel. He required that all the gross income was to be taxed and tithed as it came to hand. It was not to be used in settling up for last year's mistakes or follies, but as sure as a farmer gathered nine figs, or nine bunches of grapes, or nine sheaves of wheat, or had an income of nine cattle, or nine sheep, the tenth always belonged to the Lord. It was taken in kind, and taken directly from the tree or from the field, and it paid no tribute to creditor, tax-gatherer, nor even to the owner's support. There were no circumstances that were allowed to annul or even suspend this law. The Lord had need, for his own purposes, of a tenth of all that he caused to grow, and of all the labor which he gave men strength to perform. 4. When a person is largely in debt, beyond means of immediate payment of all claims, it is usual, and it is deemed equitable, to pay each claimant a just proportion of cash on hand, or of funds that he may accumulate. If we are owing our neighbors, we are also greatly indebted to our heavenly Father, and it is just and right that we pay our proportion to both the heavenly and the earthly creditors. 5. There remains a difficult question, Must I still pay one-tenth, while I am owing my neighbors? Look at it! From God we receive life, and all its joys and comforts and hopes, and all our capabilities. If we rent a farm, we pay an annual rental of say one-third. What God gives us is of more value than the rented farm is to us. If I am a day laborer or a professional man, a mechanic or a minister, one-tenth of all that comes in will be the least that the shadowing of the old law would require. 6. But the Jewish law levied one-tenth for the temple. There was another tenth for the Levites and still other regular demands, making an aggregate of nearly, if not quite, four-tenths. When they paid the most, as in the time of David and Solomon, they prospered the most. At the rate of their annual payments, in the time of Solomon, our war debt, as it was in 1865, would have been all paid in seven or eight years. The same is true now as far as it has been tested. As a general rule the men who contribute the most for the Lord's work, are the most prospered men in the land. "There is that scattereth, and yet increaseth; and there is that withholdeth more than is meet, and it tendeth to poverty." 7. We are to take with caution the statement that the Lord, directly, and in kind, rewards all those who give money for his work. If this were literally true then there is no need of faith, nor is there any benevolence in it on our part, more than when, having two horses, we trade one for a carriage. Benevolent giving implies giving, hoping for nothing again. We are so to give as to cultivate consecration, and to broaden and to beautify our character, without any definite covenant being made as to the time or mode of the divine repayment.—Golden Censer. The Wants of Our Times.
By Eld. H. Ziegenfuss
TRULY we are living in an age of remarkable and thrilling developments, but in all the various departments of mortal life and activity, great wants are felt. And foremost of all is the want of men who are not for sale; men who are honest, true to the heart's core; men who will condemn wrong and error in friend or foe, in themselves as well as others; men whose consciences are free from guilt, and as steady as a needle to the pole; men who stand in defense of truth and right, though the heavens totter and pass away, and the earth reels to and fro in its dissolution struggles; men who can and will tell the truth, and look the devil out of countenance, and look a frowning and scoffing world squarely in the eye; men that neither flag nor flinch; men that have godly courage, inspired from the courts of high Heaven, without carnal ambition; men in whom the glorious currents of everlasting life runs still, deep, and strong; men who do not make long prayers, long speeches, and put on a sad countenance, to be seen and heard of men; but who will not fail in the most trying circumstances, nor be discouraged, till judgment be set in the earth and the powers of darkness be vanished and the victory won—till the song of eternal triumph and everlasting peace is sung on the other shore. Men are wanted who know their message and are not afraid to tell it, though demons rage, and principalities and powers threaten; men who know their places and fill them to the glory of God and the benefit of mankind; men who will not lie, who are not too lazy to work, but who eat their bread in the sweat of their faces; men willing to eat what they have earned, and wear what they have paid for. Such men are in demand, and are a sample of what the true principles of Bible Christianity will produce. If such are the fruits, then surely the tree cannot be bad. Dark, dismal, and terrible has been the long conflict between truth and error; the light of the life to come, and the powers of darkness; while the shadow of the second death covers its multitudes, and few seek the entrance to that good and 'narrow way,' to walk in the light of life beyond the mystical Jordan, where eternal beauties and never ending felicities await us; where spontaneous productions and eternal sunshine shall prevail from pole to pole, and from zone to zone; and the dark waves of oblivion shall forever roll over all antagonistic forces of whatsoever nature, and grandeur unseen by mortal eye shall be once more and forever stamped upon creation's brow—a world lost in sin, redeemed by grace; and immortal saints in full possession. Amen!—Eld. H. Ziegenfuss, in Bible Banner. NOTHING IS LOST.
By British Evangelist
To talk with God—no breath is lost;
Talk on, talk on!
To walk with God—no strength is lost;
Walk on, walk on!
To wait on God—no time is lost;
Wait on, wait on!
To grind the ax—no work is lost;
Grind on, grind on!
The work is quicker, better done,
Not needing half the strength laid on;
Grind on! Martha stood—but Mary sat;
Martha murmured much at that;
Martha cared but Mary heard,
Listening to the Master's word,
And the Lord her choice preferred,
Sit on—hear on!
Work without God is labor lost;
Work on, work on!
Full soon you'll learn it to your cost;
Toil on, toil on! Little is much when God is in it;
Man's busiest day's not worth God's minute;
Much is little everywhere,
If God the labor do not share;
So work with God and nothing's lost—
Who works with him does best and most;
Work on, work on!
—British Evangelist. Awakening Among Women in Turkey
Rev. Dr. G. I. Bliss gives the following account of the commencement of the wonderful awakening that still continues among the women of Eastern Turkey: During the cold, bleak month of March, 1882, a number of Armenian women were noticed going day after day up the valley into the mountains. One day the pastor of the church made it convenient to be at the roadside as they passed, and asked them where they were going. They replied, "We are forty women who have formed ourselves into a society to study the Bible, and we go up here to a secluded place to talk and pray over it." The work increased until the priests were obliged to favor it. They, therefore, invited the women to meet in a room connected with one of the churches. That soon became full to overflowing, and the church itself was opened to the women and a man appointed to read and explain to them the Scriptures. Hundreds of women assembled, the church was filled, and the windows thrown open to admit the light, a very unusual occurrence, as the Armenian churches are not light enough to read in. The good work has gone on from that time to this, missionaries and Bible-readers being often stopped in the streets by requests to read, then and there, the precious word of God. Cultivate the Small Fields
GREAT results do not always follow from great opportunities, nor are great opportunities the only road to great results. On the contrary, a small field thoroughly worked over will almost always show a better harvest than a larger field which has only been cultivated in spots and at odd times, as whim or inclination led. "In the corners are the treasures," says the wisdom of the Arabs, and experience proves the truth of the adage. It is not in the great places of common haunt that one must look for undiscovered treasures, but in the dark and sordid caves of the earth, and among the rubbish heaps which men neglect and despise. Cultivate the small fields; be not above sweeping out the corners, if duty requires; in that narrow round of duty you will be more likely to win great results, than if you turned your back upon duty, and sought your work in fields which promise a richer harvest, but whose reaping requires a stronger arm and a steadier will than yours. A Growing Church in Japan
The church in Inesbori, Japan, Mr. Ise pastor, begun about four years ago with seven members, now has two hundred. Mr. Ise is the only son of a man of high rank (killed fighting for his sovereign in Kioto fifteen years ago), and was one of the first class graduated from the training school. Though inheriting his father's rank, he went down to this little handful of Christians on Shikoku, who could give him but three or four dollars a month, took what they could give him, cooked his own rice, washed his own clothes, and now, after four and a half years, has a church of two hundred members. Dr. Howard Crosby says: "Giving is worship. Every one should give, whether rich or poor. The cent of the straitened is as much needed for worship as the dollar of the richer. The poor man should no more omit giving because of his poverty than an illiterate man should omit praying because of grammar. No Christian has a right to except this from his worship." The Door in the Heart; or Woman's Influence.
By Rev. Wm. M. Blackburn
HE was an old man. Not so very old either, for the wrinkles that marked his cadaverous visage were not the autograph that time's finger had laid there, and the hand that placed upon the low pine table the well-drained glass, did not tremble so with the weakening that age induces; yet very old and very wretched looked the sole occupant of that narrow room, with its red curtain, and floor stained with tobacco saliva, and an atmosphere abundantly seasoned by the bar-room into which it opened. A hat—it must have been intended for one—half concealed the owner's uncombed locks; and unmistakable evidence of a familiar acquaintance with brickbats and the gutter did that same hat produce. Then there was a coat, out of whose sleeves peeped a pair of elbows in rejoicing consciousness that they "could afford to be out." Add to these, reader, a shabby pair of faded pants, and you have the tout ensemble of the wretched being who had just commenced his daily potations in the only "grog-shop" he was allowed to enter. And yet the wretched, friendless man that sat there, under the stupefying effect of his morning dram, had a heart; and far away up a great many pair of winding stairs in that heart, was a door easily passed by; and on that door, covered with cobwebs of time and neglect, was written "MAN." But nobody dreamed of this; and when the temperance men had gone to him, and promised him employment and respectability, if he would "sign the pledge;" and others (well-meaning men) had rated him soundly for his evil ways; and he had turned a deaf ear to all these things, and gone back with pertinacity to his "cups," everybody said old Bill Strong's case was a hopeless one. Ah! none of these had patiently groped their way up the heart's winding stairs and read the inscription on the hidden door there. But while he sat by the pine table that morning, the bar-keeper suddenly entered, followed by a lady with a pale, high brow, mild, hazel eyes, and a strangely winning expression on her mild face. The man looked up with a vacant stare of astonishment, as the bar-keeper tendered the lady a seat and pointed to him, saying, "That's Bill Strong ma'am;" and, with a glance that indicated very plainly his wonder at what she could want there, left her alone with the astounded and now thoroughly sobered man. The soft eyes of the lady wandered with a sad, pitying expression over old Bill's features, and then in a low, sweet voice, she asked:— "Am I rightly informed? Do I address Mr. William Strong?" Ah! with those few words, the lady had got farther up the winding stairs, and nearer the hidden door, than all who had gone before her. "Yes, that is my name, ma'am," said old Bill, and he glanced down at his shabby attire, and actually tried to hide the elbow that was peeping out. It was a long time since he had been addressed as Mr. William Strong, and somehow it sounded very pleasant to him. "I am very glad to meet you, Mr. Strong," responded the lady; "I have heard my father speak of you so often, and of the days when you and he were boys together, that I almost feel as if we were old acquaintances. You surely cannot have forgotten Charles Morrison?" "Oh! no; Charlie and I used to be great cronies," said old Bill, with sudden animation, and a light in his eye, such as had not shone there for a long time, except when rum gave it a fitful brilliancy. Ah, the lady did not know, as perhaps the angels did, that she had mounted the stairs, and was softly feeling for that unseen door. So she went on:— "I almost feel, Mr. Strong, as if I could see the old spot upon which your homestead stood; I have heard my father describe it so often—the hill, with its crown of old oaks at the back of your house, and the field of yellow harvest grain that waved in front. Then there was the green grass before the front door, with the huge apple-tree that threw its shadows across it; and the old 'portico,' with the grapevine that climbed over it, and the white roses that peeped in at the bed-room window; and the spring that went shining and bubbling through the bed of green mint at the side of the house." Old Bill moved uneasily in his chair, and the muscles around his mouth twitched occasionally; but, unmindful of this, the lady kept on in the same low, melting voice:— "Many and many were the hours," so father would say, "that Willie and I used to pass under the shadow of that old apple-tree, playing at hide-and-seek or lolling on the grass and telling each other the great things we meant to do when we became big men, while Willie's blue eyes would sparkle with hope and happiness; and, when the sunset laid a crown of gold on the top of the oaks on the hill, Willie's mother might be seen standing in the portico, with her snowy cap and checked apron, and we would hear her cheerful voice calling, Come, boys, come to supper." One after another the big, warm, blessed tears went rolling down old Bill's cheeks and falling on the pine table. Ah, the lady was at the door then! "I was always at home at Willie's," father would say, "and used to have my bowl of fresh milk and bread, too; and, when these had disappeared, Willie would draw his little stool to his mother's feet, and she would tell him some pleasant story of Joseph, or David, or some good boy, who afterwards became a great man. And then she would part Willie's brown curls from off his forehead, and say, in a trembling voice I can never forget, Promise me, Willie, when you are a man, and the gray hairs of your mother are resting in the churchyard yonder, you will never disgrace her memory. And Willie would draw up his slight form, lift his blue eyes proudly to his mother, and say, Never fear, mother; I will make a good man and a great one, too. And then, after we had said our evening prayers, we would go, contented and happy as the bird that nestled in the old apple-tree, to rest. Then, just as we were sinking into some pleasant dream, we would hear a well-known footfall on the stairs, and a kind face bending over us would inquire if we were nicely tucked up. It is a long, long time, father would say, 'since I heard from Willie; but I am very sure he has never fallen into any evil ways. The words of his mother would keep him from that.'" Rap! rap! rap! went the words of the lady at the door in old Bill's heart. Creak! creak! creak! went the door on its rusted hinges. Angels of God, held ye not your breaths to listen?93 The lady could only see the subdued man bury his face in his clasped hands, and, while his frame shook like an aspen leaf, she heard him murmur, amid childlike sobs, "My mother, O my mother!" And she felt as though the tears that were washing those wrinkled cheeks were washing out a long, dark record of old Bill's past life. So, with a silent prayer of thankfulness, she resumed:— "But there was one thing my father loved to talk of better than all the rest. It was of the morning you were married, Mr. Strong. 'It was enough to do one's eyes good to look at them,' he would say, 'as they walked up the old church aisle,—he, with his proud, manly tread, and she, a delicate, fragile creature, fair as the orange blossoms that trembled in her hair. I remember how clear and confident William's voice sounded through the old church, as he promised to love, protect, and cherish the bright, confiding creature at his side; and I knew he thought, as he looked down upon her, that the winds of heaven would never visit her face too roughly. And then my father would tell us of your pleasant home and of the bright-eyed boy and the fair-haired girl that came after a while to gladden it. And then, you know, he removed to the West, Mr. Strong, and lost sight of you.'" Once again the lady paused, for the agony of the strong man before her was fearful to behold; and then, in a lower tone, she spoke:— "I did not forget the promise I made my father, previous to his death, that, if ever I visited his native State, I would seek out his old friend. But when I inquired for you, they unfolded a terrible story to me, Mr. Strong. They told me of a desolate and broken household; of the blue-eyed boy, that a father's heart might so well delight in, who had left his home in disgust and despair for one on the homeless waters; of the gentle, suffering wife, who, faithful to the last, went down, with a prayer on her lips for her erring husband, broken-hearted to the grave; and of the fair-haired orphan girl, who followed her mother in a little while. Oh, it is a sad, sad story I have heard of my father's old friend!" "It was I! it was I that did it! I killed them!" cried old Bill, lifting his bowed head, and gazing on the lady, every feature expressive of such wild agony and helpless remorse, that she shuddered at the despair her own words had aroused. (Wide, wide open stood the door then, and the lady passed in.) A soft hand was laid soothingly upon old Bill's arm, and a voice full of hope murmured, "Even for all this, there is mercy. There is redemption through the atoning merits of Jesus, and you well know your first step toward it. Sign the pledge. In the name of the last prayer of your dying wife, and of the child that sleeps by her side, I ask you, Will you do it?" "I will," said old Bill, while he brought down his closed hand with such force on the rickety pine table, that it rocked beneath it; and a gleam of hope lighted up his features, as he seized the pen and paper the lady placed before him, which paper contained a pledge, binding all who signed it to abstain from the use of intoxicating beverages; and when he returned it to her, in bold, legible characters, there lay written beneath it the name of WILLIAM STRONG. There was an expression almost ludicrous, from its intenseness of curiosity, on the bar-keeper's physiognomy, as the lady, after her long interview with old Bill, passed quietly through the shop, and the expression was not lessened when old Bill, a few moments after, walked through without taking another glass of grog; and he never passed over the threshold again. Earnest-hearted reader, you whose soul may be glowing with sympathy for your erring brother man, who would gladly raise him from the depths of sin and degradation, and point him to the highway of peace and prosperity, remember there is a door in every human breast. See that you pass not by it!—Rev. Wm. M. Blackburn. THE BISHOP'S VISIT.
By Mrs. E. H. Nason
TELL you about it? Of course I will!
I thought it would be dreadful to have him come,
For mamma said I must be quiet and still,
And she put away my whistle and drum, And made me unharness the parlor chairs,
And packed my cannon and all the rest
Of my noisiest playthings off up stairs,
On account of this very distinguished guest. Then every room was turned upside down,
And all the carpets hung out to blow;
For when the bishop is coming to town
The house must be in order, you know. So out in the kitchen I made my lair,
And started a game of hide-and-seek;
But Bridget refused to have me there,
For the bishop was coming—to stay a week— And she must make cookies and cakes and pies,
And fill every closet and platter and pan,
Till I thought this bishop, so great and wise,
Must be a awfully hungry man. Well, at last he came; and I do declare,
Dear grandpa, he looked just like you,
With his gentle voice, and his silvery hair,
And eyes with a smile a-shining through. And whenever he read or talked or prayed,
I understood every single word;
And I wasn't the leastest bit afraid,
Though I never once spoke or stirred; Till, all of a sudden, he laughed right out,
To see me sit quietly listening so;
And began to tell us stories about
Some queer little fellows in Mexico, And all about Egypt and Spain—and then
He wasn't disturbed by a little noise,
But said that the greatest and best of men
Once were rollicking, healthy boys. And he thinks it is no matter at all
If a little boy runs and jumps and climbs;
And mamma should be willing to let me crawl
Through the banister rails in the hall, sometimes. And Bridget, sir, made a great mistake,
In stirring up such a bother, you see,
For the bishop—he didn't care for cake,
And really liked to play games with me. But though he's so honored in word and act—
Stoop down, for this is a secret now—
He couldn't spell "Boston!" That's a fact!
But whispered to me to tell him how.
—Mrs. E. H. Nason, in Wide-Awake. Death of English Sovereigns.
WILLIAM the Conqueror died of enormous fat, from drink, and from the violence of his passions. William Rufus died the death of the poor stags which he hunted. Henry I. died of gluttony. Henry II. died of a broken heart, occasioned by the bad conduct of his children. Richard Cœur De Lion, like the animal from which his heart was named, died by an arrow from an archer. John died, nobody knows how; but it is said from chagrin, which, we suppose, is another term for a dose of hellebore. Henry III. is said to have died a "natural death." Edward I. is also said to have died of a "natural sickness"—a sickness which would puzzle all the college physicians to denominate. Edward II. was barbarously and indecently murdered by ruffians employed by his own wife and her paramour. Edward III. died of dotage, and Richard II. of starvation—the very reverse of George IV. Henry IV. is said to have died of "fits caused by uneasiness," and uneasiness in palaces in those times was a very common complaint. Henry V. is said to have died of a "painful affliction, prematurely." This is a courtly term for getting rid of a king. Henry VI. died in prison, by means known then only to his jailer, and now only known in Heaven. Edward V. was strangled in the tower by his uncle, Richard III. Richard III. was killed in battle. Henry VII. wasted away, as a miser ought to. Henry VIII. died of carbuncles, fat and fury. Edward VI. died of a decline. Queen Mary is said to have died of a broken heart. Old Queen Bess is said to have died of melancholy, from having sacrificed Essex to his enemies. James I. died of drinking and the effects of vice. Charles I. died on the scaffold. Charles II. died suddenly—it is said of apoplexy. William III. died of consumptive habits of body and from the stumbling of his horse. Queen Anne died of dropsy. George I. died of drunkenness, which his physicians politely called an apoplectic fit. George II. died of a rupture of the heart, which the periodicals of that day termed a visitation of God. George III. died as he had lived—a madman. Throughout life he was at least a consistent monarch. George IV. died of gluttony and drunkenness.—Sel. "Mamma," said little Annie, "won't you please give me two apples to-day for my lunch? I want to give one to Jane Woods." "Certainly, my dear. But why do you want to give one to Jane?" "Because, mamma dear, she stole one out of my basket yesterday, and I want her not to be tempted to do this again. For our teacher says, that if we are sincere in praying, 'Lead us not into temptation,' we should not only keep out of the way of evil ourselves, but should try to keep others from being tempted; and so I think if I give Jane an apple, she will not want to steal any more." The apple was given; and at recess time Jane came to Annie looking very sorrowful and said:— "Annie, won't you please take this apple back again? I suppose its mine now, as you gave it to me; and I want to pay you back for the one I stole the other day." Jane never stole again. Annie's kindness saved her; her thoughts were thoughts of peace and love. And we see how she was helping the blessed Saviour to bring "peace on earth" by the peaceful, loving thoughts that she cherished in her heart. The first way in which we may promote "peace on earth" is by having peaceful thoughts.—Sel. If a well-made man be extended on the ground, his arms at right angles with the body, a circle, making the navel its center, will just take in the head, the finger-ends and feet. The distance from top to toe is precisely the same as that between the tips of the fingers when the arms are extended. The length of the body is just six times that of the foot, while the distance from the edge of the hair on the forehead to the end of the chin is one-tenth the length of the whole stature. Of the sixty-two primary elements known in nature, only eighteen are found in the human body, and of these, seven are metalic. Iron is found in the blood, phosphorus in the brain, limestone in the bile, lime in the bones, dust and ashes in all! Not only these eighteen human elements, but the whole sixty-two, of which the universe is made, have their essential basis in the four substances, oxygen, hydrogen, nitrogen, and carbon, representing the more familiar names of fire, water, saltpetre, and charcoal; and such is man, the lord of earth! a spark of fire, a drop of water, a grain of gunpowder, an atom of charcoal!—Hall's Journal of Health. Chicago Kitchen Garden Association
The Chicago Kitchen Garden Association has just opened under the most auspicious conditions at Chicago, Ill. The girls who attend are from eight to fourteen years of age; and even at this early period the schools have a long list of applicants who wish servants who have had training in the Kitchen Gardens. Miss Torrey, who was formerly connected with the Kitchen Garden Association of New York, is training a class of thirty young ladies to take charge of the Kitchen Gardens in Chicago. The mothers of the children are quite enthusiastic at the results of the training school. For all of us our life at home must constitute a great part of that life in which, by patient continuance in well doing, we seek for glory, honor, and immortality; for many of us it practically constitutes the whole. There are millions of women, millions of girls, to say nothing of little children, who have no life worth speaking of beyond the boundaries of the family. Whatever fidelity to God, whatever love for Christ, whatever justice, whatever kindness, generosity, and gentleness they are to illustrate in their spirit and conduct, must be illustrated there. And even men who have their business and their profession to follow during the greater part of the day find occasion in their home-life for forms of well-doing and ill-doing that are not possible elsewhere. I like a broad and rich life for myself, full of varied interest; and I should like to see the lives of most men, and of most women too, animated by the inspiration and refreshed by the free air of activities and interests outside their own home. But no shining achievements elsewhere can palliate the guilt of coldness, injustice, or ill-temper in the family; and the noblest public virtues have their roots in the gentleness, the industry, the self-sacrifice, and the truthfulness of which only those who are nearest to us have any knowledge.—Sel. Protecting the Elderly from Cold
At this season of the year old people need to take especial care to avoid getting chilled. Cold is one of the most deadly enemies of old age. A large share of the elderly people who die succumb to the influence of cold, inducing pneumonia. An abundance of warm clothing, with warm but well-ventilated rooms, is essential to the old during the cold season of the year, and they should avoid the exposures which younger persons may endure without injury.—Herald of Health. HEALDSBURG COLLEGE.
By S. Brownberger
A Model Institution for General Culture. Instruction Given in the Branches of the Usual College Curriculum.
Special Attention to Common Branches and the Elements of Learning.
Physical Culture and Experience in the Most Common Affairs of Practical Life, and the Useful Trades are Combined in This College with the Study of the Regular School Branches.
This College Is Very Successful in the Education of Youth, Because It Is Founded on Correct Principles.
1. The Bible is made the Text-book of Morals and Religion, and nearly every member of the school has Daily Recitations in Biblical History. 2. The union of manual and mental labor among the students will secure to them habits of industry, as well as a knowledge of the most common methods of obtaining a livelihood, and will thus make of them practical men and women. 3. The strong Moral and Religious influence finds its equal in no other institution of the kind. 4. The expenses of Students for Board, Tuition, etc., come within the ability of all. 5. The Discipline is rigid, and the Instruction is thorough and Practical throughout. One of the most prominent features of Healdsburg College is the effort to impress upon its students the claims and benefits of morals and religion. Any one of known evil habits, who is exerting a pernicious influence upon his fellow-students, is not tolerated in the school. During the year 1883 there was completed a large building called Upon a tract of five acres of ground, the whole designed for a Students' Home, where will be afforded the best home influence, and an opportunity for combining manual labor with study. No other institution offers so favorable facilities on so reasonable terms. To those who wish to obtain instruction in the Bible, Old and New Testament History, &c., special inducements are offered. A class will be opened at the beginning of the Spring Term, for old and young. is connected with the College to accommodate those children whose parents desire to place them under the instruction and moral influence of the school. The Spring Term began January 2, 1884, and closes May 29, 1884. Any information, and calendar sent on application. Address, S. BROWNSBERGER, A. M., President, Healdsburg, Cal.