Earlier text: The Sabbath SchoolADONIRAM JUDSON'S VIEW OF THE MINISTRY.
By Stephen N. Haskell
MR. JUDSON'S view of the work of the gospel was very different from many of the present day, or even in the time which he lived. To be permitted to take a part in self-denial and suffering for the truth of the gospel was to him a privilege. Applause and censure both alike fell ineffective at his feet. His life in Burmah from the commencement to its close was one of deprivation and suffering scarcely equalled by any in modern times. The theme of Mr. Judson's study was Christ, his life, character, and manner of preaching. The height of his ambition was to exemplify Christ, as far as possible, in a life of toil and suffering. He often spoke of God's "having honored him, through the Saviour's worthiness, with a commission to the Burmans; of Christ's having permitted him to do a little work in his name, and be the means of saving a few souls; and he always prayed most fervently, both in his own behalf and that of his children, for a long life of labor and self-denial." In response to remarks occasioned by the death of Mr. and Mrs. James, who were drowned at sea, Mr. Judson gave utterance to the following sentiments: "Oh, when will Christians learn that their puny, polluted offerings of works are not necessary to God? He permits them to work as a favor, in order to do them good, personally, because he loves them, and desires to honor them, not because he needs them. I have thought for years that God in his dealings with us aims particularly at our individual development and growth, with the ultimate object of fitting each one of us personally for the life to come." As might be expected he spent but little of his time in social intercourse, beyond the limits of his own home. He considered his work of far too engrossing a nature to allow of it. He was always ready to attend a meeting for prayer among the Burmans of his church, or to visit any family that happened to be in affliction, but beyond this he did not go. Hence he was sometimes considered unsocial. When he could alleviate sorrow or bind up the broken in heart, no one in the mission was more prompt in his attentions, or more acceptable in his sympathy. Mrs. Judson, thinking to amuse him and divert his mind, called his attention, at one time, to two newspaper articles, in one of which he was compared to the apostle Paul and in the other to the beloved John; to which he exclaimed with a sorrowfulness which made her regret having shown them to him; "Oh, how little—how little do they know me." "It is very evident that they do not know you," remarked she carelessly. "One day you are Peter, or Paul, or Luthur, or the next gentle John, or mild Melancthon." "I do not want to be like any of them," he said energetically, "Paul, nor Apollos, nor Cephas, nor any other mere man. I want to be like Christ. We have a great many aids and encouragers along the Christian path; but only one perfectly safe Exampler—only One who, tempted like as we are in every point, is still without sin. I want to follow him only—copy his teachings, drink in his spirit; and place my feet in his foot-prints, Oh, to be more like Christ!" At one time while in this country after having addressed the congregation, it was apparent to his wife that most of the listeners were disappointed. On their way home she mentioned the matter to him. "Why, what did they want?" he inquired, "I presented the most interesting subject in the world, to the best of my ability." "But they wanted something different, a story." "Well, I am sure I gave them a story—the most thrilling one that can be conceived of." "But they had heard it before. They wanted something new of a man who had just come from the antipodes." "Then I am glad they have it to say that a man coming from the antipodes had nothing better to tell than the wondrous story of Jesus' dying love. My business is to preach the gospel of Christ, and when I can speak at all, I dare not trifle with my commission. When I looked upon those people to-day, and remembered where I shall next meet them, how could I stand up and furnish food for vain curiosity—tickle their fancies with amusing stories, however decently strung together on a thread of religion? That is not what Christ meant by preaching the gospel. And then, how could I hereafter meet the fearful charge 'I gave you one opportunity to tell them of me—you spent it in describing your own adventures!'" He acknowledged that the diffusion of missionary information was of great importance, but maintained that the standard of gospel preaching should not be lowered thereby. He used frequently to speak of the tendency of cultivated people to visit the house of God in search of intellectual gratification, rather than for the purpose of worship or the promotion of their spiritual good, and mentioned it as the most dangerous snare in the path of the rising ministry. When once asked, in private, how he liked a sermon that had just been eliciting warm praises from a parlor circle, he answered, "It was elegant, every word was chosen with care and taste, and many of the thoughts were exceeding beautiful. It delighted my ears so much, that I quite forgot I had a heart, and I am afraid all the other hearers did the same." At another time, when speaking in glowing terms of a sermon to which he had listened with evident interest, he suddenly broke off with "But such are not the sermons to arouse a dead sinner, or to feed the sheep, no man could say there to-day 'The poor have the gospel preached to them.'" Let the above spirit actuate our ministers of to-day and they will possess a power which will reach hearts. It is the true missionary spirit. THE DISCIPLINE OF SACRIFICE.
WE have often thought that one of the grand results of foreign missions is in the character developed in the missionaries by the work. When the young man leaves us for his foreign field, he seems not superior in character to many of his brethren at home. But when he returns to visit us, after fifteen or twenty years of labor for the heathen, we behold a man discreet, just, holy, temperate, of large views, calm faith, resolute purpose, abounding love. To this rule we have met hardly any exception. We conclude that it is a blessed work to preach Christ to the heathen. The sacrifice which the man has made for Jesus Christ has been the means of disciplining him to what you see. And all discipline implies sacrifice. Abraham must give up Isaac before he could be the tried father of the faithful. Moses must give up the treasures of Egypt, and tend sheep in the desert, that he might be fitted to lead out Israel. Our Lord Jesus himself "learned obedience from the things that he suffered." It seems impossible for a man to get any real heart-learning without suffering. Prometheus was the wisest hero of the Greek mythology. He was also the greatest sufferer. Christian experience, then, must be, in a great degree, connected with giving up for Christ's sake. The rich and amiable young man who said to the Lord, "What lack I yet?" was informed that he lacked one thing. He needed to sell all that he had, and sacrifice all to the poor. If he had done this, it would have been an act of faith that would have formed Christ in him. Sometimes one supreme moment of sacrifice will avail as much to deepen character as a long period of ordinary life. What a different man was Jacob, it has been remarked, after one night of wrestling with God! The six hundred of Balaklava, by their own act of splendid obedience, did more to train themselves and others to military performance, than could have been effected by a year of "reveille bugles" and sham fights. The lesson of submission to the will of God—539how well that lesson may be learned by a Christian mother, in some moment of agonizing prayer at the bed-side of her dying child. And even thus we may regard Gethsemane itself as the necessary discipline to fit the Redeemer for Golgotha. After that season of full and absolute sacrifice of his own will to the Father's, Jesus was prepared to endure the cross and despise the shame. It is somewhat on this principle that we come to value things in proportion to what they have cost us. In the people of the United States, for instance, how strong is the sense of nationality at this time. The tremendous sacrifices by which that nationality was maintained, have trained the people to such a valuing of the amity of the States as could not otherwise be gained. In the commercial realm, a thing is worth what it costs us. Mary's alabaster box was of more value than three hundred pence, and she deepened her experience more by lavishing the ointment on her Lord, than she could have done by saving her property. We all know that the lasting things in the kingdom of Christ are wrought by men who have made great sacrifices. In the words of a spiritual writer, "It is a part of the determined counsel of heaven, that no one shall succeed except he goeth forth weeping. David could not sit firmly on his throne, till he had been hunted as a partridge on the mountains. The handfuls of corn on Calvary could not be spread abroad until the cross had borne the victim. The martyred disciples' blood must bedew the earth before the apostles could sow the seed. The missionaries in the East must first weep over the printing works consumed by fire before the Bible could spread there."—Watchman. WHEN our pilgrim fathers were in readiness for their departure from Leyden to this country in 1620, they kept a day of humiliation, fasting and prayer. It was a most solemn and interesting occasion, and the devoted Robinson improved it in a most fitting manner, charging them ever to keep their minds open to conviction. We commend the following extract from his charge to all who may read this paper:— "Brethren, we are now quickly to part from one another, and whether I may live to see you face to face on earth any more, the God of heaven only knows; but whether the Lord hath appointed that or not, I charge you before God and his blessed angels, that you follow me no farther than you have seen me follow the Lord Jesus Christ. If God reveals anything to you by any other instrument, be as ready to receive it as ever you were to receive any truth by my ministry; for I am verily persuaded, I am very confident, that the Lord hath more truth yet to break forth out of his holy word. For my part, I cannot sufficiently bewail the condition of the reformed churches, who are come to a period in religion, and will go at present, no farther than the instruments of their reformation. The Lutherans cannot be drawn to go beyond what Luther saw. Whatever part of his will our God revealed to Calvin, they will rather die than embrace; and the Calvinists, you see, stick fast where they were left by that great man of God, who yet saw not all things. This is a misery much to be lamented; for though they were burning and shining lights in their times, yet they penetrated not into the whole counsel of God; but, were they now living, would be as willing to embrace further light as that which they first received." As our Lord left no monument of himself in brass or marble, so he left no letters written by his own hand. He did not write his mind on tables of stone, or on sheets of parchment. Even Rome, with all her rage for relics, does not pretend to show a specimen of his hand-writing. Yet he has not left himself without a witness. He has left letters behind him which truly reveal his mind: “Ye are epistles of Christ.” Disciples, when he desires to let the world know what he is, he points to you. Nay, more and further, when he would have the Father to behold his glory, he refers him to the saved: “Father, I am glorified in them.” It is not only that the world, in point of fact, judges of Christianity by what they see in Christians, but they have authority so to do. The Lord himself consented that they should read him there. So, Jesus sends a letter to the world—sends many letters—sends a letter to every city, and every street, and every house. A merchant who is a disciple of Christ goes to India or China. He sells manufactured goods; he buys silk and tea. But all the time he is a letter, a living epistle, sent by Christ to the heathen. A boy becomes an apprentice in a warehouse or factory; but before he was bound to a master on earth, he has been redeemed by a Master in Heaven. He is now, therefore, a letter from the Lord to all his shop-mates. In his truth, and love, and gentleness, and fairness, and generosity, they should learn the mind of Christ. I confess that this thought is fitted to make us afraid. How shall we fulfill such a function? The solution is, It is the Lord's own method. He has chosen earthern vessels in order that the glory may be to God.—Christian Weekly. "PA," said a little boy, as he climbed to his father's knee, and looked into his face as earnestly as if he understood the importance of the subject, "Pa, is your soul insured?" "What are you thinking about, my son?" replied the agitated father. "Why do you ask that question?" "Why, pa, I heard uncle George say that you had your houses insured and your life insured; but he didn't believe you had thought of your soul, and he was afraid you would lose it; won't you get it insured right away?" The father leaned his head on his hand, and was silent. He owned broad acres of land that were covered with a bountiful produce, barns were even now filled with plenty, his buildings were all well covered with insurance; but, as if that would not suffice for the maintenance of his wife and only child, in case of his decease, he had, the day before, taken a life policy for a large amount; yet not one thought had he given to his own soul. One wept that his harvest was small,
With little of fruit or of grain;
While his neighbor, with barns running o'er,
Still followed the full-freighted wain. "How much did'st thou sow," I said, "friend?"
"A handful of wheat, less or more."
"And did'st thou expect broad acres would bend
To thy sickle from such scanty store?" Who sparingly soweth must look
For little of fruit or of grain;
'Tis only the bountiful sower can reap
A bountiful harvest again. A lesson, I said, to thee, Soul,
For harvest time soon will be here;
Sow with a bountiful hand, lest thou weep at the last,
When the Lord of the harvest draws near.
—Selected. WHAT, another? you ask. We have had a great temperance reform crusade, and you declare the need of another. Pray on what matter do we need a reform crusade? We answer on the use of tobacco. This habit is getting to be a universal, national nuisance and SIN, and it needs to be made a subject of earnest opposition as much as alcoholic intemperance. It is a sin of the same order, or class—the sin of the habitual use of a stimulating drug, which injures the mind and the health, debases the spiritual nature, and, in the overwhelming majority of cases, makes the man a slave beyond the power of liberation, to its disgusting impurities. It should be combated by all true Christians because it is an inebriacy, and its victims are under the enslavement of a narcotic intoxication, besotting, and God and humanity-dishonoring. And again, it should be opposed because it is dwarfing, or destroying that benevolent faculty which manifests itself in care for the comfort of others, and leaving in its stead only a drunken selfishness. Twenty years ago a man would never smoke in a stage-coach, boat, car, room, or by your side on the street in the open air, without first inquiring if it were disagreeable to you, and not then if he learned that it was. Now there is not a thought of the comfort of those who are sickened by it, nor even a saying, "by your leave," except in a very few individual cases. Again, it is pushing itself everywhere, to the discomfort of those who have too much self-respect to be enslaved by it. You have read of Rev. Joseph Cook's encounter with smokers on the railroad train west. The encounter—except as far as the decided and triumphant assertion of his rights which Mr. Cook made—is not uncommon. In fact, there are getting to be few places where a man or woman not a smoker or chewer can ride, or even live with comfort. Our streets, hotels, public conveyances, and places of interesting natural scenery, are full of the sickening smoke of burnt tobacco. We sought, this fall, to enjoy with a few friends a ride from Alton Bay, N. H., across Lake Winnipiseogee to Center Harbor, but, at Wolf-borough a fire company from Newburyport, Mass., and a brass-band numbering together some 70 men came on board, and from that time, the whole three hours till we landed at the Bay again was one pandemonium of tobacco smoke and sick-headache. There was no escaping it anywhere. The vile and disgusting practice is crowding itself everywhere. Will not Christian men and women release themselves from the habit, if they have it, and give their influence consistently and boldly to oppose its growth? It is not enough that men should be drunken with narcotic nicotine, but, as though to enslave them in the very toils of Satan, dealers are drugging their tobacco with opium, and, as though to hasten the victims to ruin, are rolling it in the deadly poison of arsenicated paper. The Methodist Episcopal General Conference touched the sin just hard enough at Cincinnati, to subject themselves to a laugh. They required all persons who hereafter enter the ministry to be free from the tobacco habit. If tobacco-using is not a sin, if it is in any sense God-given food or drink or medicine so habitually used, they had no business to deny it to any soul of their ministry; if it is a ruinous sin, then the quitting of it should be required of every member of their communion and ministry, as well as of young ministers. If it is a thing that gets such an idolatrous place in the hearts of ministers who have grown old in its use, that Christian good sense and sanctified will-power cannot conquer it, then all the more plainly is it a dangerous and sinful lust of the flesh, and they ought to be required to test what they preach of Jesus' being able to save to the uttermost from the reign of sin, and become free from it, or else leave the Christian profession and ministry, and not publicly disgrace the ministry or Christian profession, by retaining a filthy, health-destroying, soul-degrading habit, which they declare that neither Christian common sense, nor divine saving power is able to overcome. But this sin must be opposed likewise because it is burning into smoke and ashes tens of thousands of dollars of the Lord's money every year. Money that should be used in the holy war of Christ against sin and ignorance which are drowning men in destruction and perdition, is literally "consumed upon your lusts" by multitudes of men who profess to be "taking up their cross," and "denying themselves" daily, and following Christ. Yes, it is "consumed upon lust," and a lust, too, that is both degrading to themselves and injurious to their neighbors. How many tobacco-users among our readers are ready to strike for liberty in Christ, and purity, and devote the trophies of their victory to the glory of Christ and the good of men? Who will join the crusade?—J. D. B., in Bible Banner. Ft. Howard, Wis., Nov. 12
By John G. Matteson
From Battle Creek I went to Chicago, where I held nine meetings. Quite a number of outsiders attended, and the Lord helped our infirmities, as he came near to us by his Holy Spirit. The brethren and sisters in this place and in other places where I have been, were very anxious to see me, and very willing to receive instruction from the word of God. And it is also a source of encouragement and joy to me to be permitted once more to meet and to worship with those dear souls who received the love of the truth through my feeble efforts, and with whom I have often been assembled in the house of God for prayer and praise. Some are missing. They have returned to our mother earth, and will slumber quietly till the Lifegiver comes. Others have stepped into their places, and still the work goes on. I preached three times in Racine, Wis., and five times in Raymond. the Lord blessed his word to many hearts, and I have reason to believe that it will not return void. Nov. 1, I came to Oakland, where I formerly resided. I sold our home, and received another smaller house and lot in the bargain, which will furnish a good home for my wife's aged mother, who was left here alone. We had seven meetings in this place. A goodly number of brethren and sisters came in from Little Prairie, Johnstown, Milton, Oxbow, and other places, and we were encouraged together in the Lord. We are trying in each place to get into a closer union with our Saviour and to work in harmony with our American brethren, that we may all be like-minded, having the same love, being of one accord, of one mind. Ft. Howard, Wis., Nov. 12
ROANE AND KANAWHA COUNTIES, WEST VIRGINIA.
By Isaac Sanborn
I CLOSED my labors in these counties Oct. 21. Notwithstanding much has been done to hinder the work, nine have signed the covenant, and others expect to do so soon. Two of the nine are preachers, and they are both preparing to preach the third angel's message. When I came to West Virginia, last November, found three Sabbath-keepers; now there are about forty. So we feel encouraged to go forward in faith, and as the time shortens to be more diligent in this last great work. “NOTHING can be more painful to the feelings of a minister when he comes to water his flock than to find that many of them are not at the well.”—Baptist Weekly. If the numerous young men and boys in this city would give a good sober thought to the effect that the pernicious habit of cigarette smoking is having on them and stop it, we are convinced that their mental and moral natures would be vastly improved. A dirtier and more pernicious habit never became engrafted upon the youth of a country. It may seem to be a very graceful accomplishment to be able to take the tobacco and place it in a piece of paper and with a twist of the fingers roll it into a cigarette, light it and draw the smoke into the throat and then allow great volumes of it to pass through the nostrils, making the nose look like the smokestack of a steamboat. But we tell our young readers that when they are able to do this they have entered on a course that will dull their intellect, sap their vitality, and in time will bring on the most painful results. It is a well-known fact that an indulgence of this habit by boys will degenerate their physical nature and cause the most dangerous of throat diseases. Our attention was called the other day, to a little fellow just able to run around the streets, propped up against the side of a building and puffing away at a cigarette. It is wicked. Parents cannot be too strict in regard to this terrible habit. If the fearful consequences, and often fatal results, were early impressed on the children, the habit would be stopped. If, however, they throw aside all the advice and friendly counsel, and continue, we candidly tell them that they might as well give up all hopes of ever becoming anybody in the world.—Weekly Mercury. Alcohol’s Terrible Warning
ANOTHER telling temperance sermon in the shape of a suicide is announced by a New York paper. A young man of good family and connections, trusted head book-keeper of a wholesale house in this city, with a loving wife and children dependent upon him for support, is weighed down by the curse of drink. At midnight he makes his way to the gate of Bellevue Hospital, rings the bell, then puts a pistol to his temple and fires. The porter finds his body lying beside the gate, life already extinct. And in his pocket with a bank bill is found a note saying: "Bury me in the Potters' Field. . . . Cause: Alcohol. Cause: nobody's business!" A sad epitaph, a rare confession, and a terrible warning! A CORRESPONDENT of the New York Observer in Shanghai states that the opium imported into China costs nearly as much as the nation receives for its teas, and more than it receives for silks. In addition to the foreign opium there is an immense quantity now cultivated in China itself. The vice of opium-smoking pervades all classes. Under such circumstances it is not with much hope that we read the following from a Chinese paper: "An imperial edict has been issued against opium-smoking, allowing two months for reform, after which severe penalties will be inflicted on all transgressors." New York Vice and Chinese Opium
DR. TALMAGE of Brooklyn, New York, who recently visited this State gave some attention to the Chinese question. Here is his verdict, given in his own pulpit a few Sundays ago: "Underground life in New York is fifty per cent worse than Chinatown in San Francisco. The white iniquity of our metropolis is worse than the yellow of the West; and the vile odors of opium were not so offensive to me as the stench of New York whisky is." Whisky Destined for the Gutter
DR. CHARLES JEWETT, while arguing for prohibition, once said: "Why not pour whisky into the gutter? It is destined for the gutter at last; why not pour it there at once, and not strain it through a man and spoil the strainer in the work?" Do NOT keep your good manners for company, but be equally polite at home and abroad. "S. P. L. L."
By S. E. Dowd
"Oh! my goodness gracious!" said pretty Kate Gray, grasping her left forefinger in her right hand, and scowling till she ceased to look like herself. "What is the matter of thee now, Katherine? Is thy head bursting open again?" "Grandma Gray, I just think you're a perfectly cruel and hard-hearted woman!" said Kate, dropping into a chair. "I do believe that, if I fell and broke my neck, you wouldn't say you were sorry for me!" "I don't think my pity would do thee much good under such circumstances. But where is thy 'goodness gracious,' and what does ail thee, child?" "Why, I've run a horrid great needle through my finger. Mercy to me, how it hurts!" "Am I some cruel executioner, Katherine, that thee begs for mercy?" Kate ran out of the room, without answering. She had had many such encounters with her grandmother, and usually got the worse of the argument. It was nearly time for her French teacher, too, and she dashed into the finishing of her exercise, which had somehow been neglected. Luckily, the last word was done before she heard the customary greeting: "Comment vous portez-vous, Mademoiselle?" The lesson went on pretty well till it came to the unlucky exercise and then Professor Vaux said, in French: "Oh! murder!" said Kate. "I knew better than that." "How is it," said the Professor, "that you say achetir, and not vendu, in this place?" "My conscience! that's a horrid blunder! Horrors! I've written it three times over!" And Kate erased and rewrote her sentences; but again came the dreaded remark: "Dear me suz!" sighed Kate. "I trully think that French is the most perfectly awful language that ever—" but she did not continue, for the Professor, with a shrug of his square shoulders, leaned back in his chair, looking intensely amused. "Why are you laughing at me?" demanded Kate, who did not relish jokes very well. "A thousand pardons! But Mademoiselle is very—so very droll this afternoon." "I'm sure I don't know what you mean," said Kate, rather stiffly. "Excuse me; but it is this. You say so many times such very queer words. You say 'horrors' in your lesson; you say your 'conscience'; you say 'murder' when I correct you: and now you say so droll a thing—you say 'dear me suz!' You make me to laugh. I do not understand how you mean. Have you not interjections in the English?" "Mercy! yes. Acres of interjections in the grammar. Nobody ever uses them, though, and they are dreadfully tame. Oh! and alas! and such words." "And Mademoiselle is right if she thinks 'murder' and 'horrors' are wild. Pardon me if I say to you that we have in the French a proverb like this: 'A lady is known when she opens her mouth.' And, with this parting shot, Monsieur Vaux withdrew." When Leonard Gray came into his mother's parlor, at twilight, he found Kate in the bay window, in her own peculiar attitude for serious thought. "Well, Puss-Cat-Mew," was his salutation, "what are you settling now?" "Nothing. I'm reflecting upon the interjection—and other things. I've had two regular broadsides to-day, Len. Grandma nearly took my head off because I was—well, rather, emphatic about hurting my finger fearfully; and Prof. Vaux actually laughed at me! He just the same as said that I wasn't ladylike. I always thought he was a perfect gentleman, until now." "But I don't think Monsieur Vaux was at all to blame," said Leonard, after Kate had detailed her grievance. "Suppose you were giving Nora a recipe for a cake, and she put in her comments like this. You would begin: " 'Take one cup of sugar'—
" 'Holy Moses!'
" 'Three cups of butter'—
" 'By jingoes!'
" 'Six cups of milk'—
" 'Soul and body!'
" 'One pint of raisins'—
" 'Lord love ye, what a cake!' " "Dear me, that's just what I think," said Kate, laughing. "But, Len, I don't say 'jingoes,' and 'Holy Moses,' and those things. I never say vulgar things, as Nora does. You know I don't." "Don't you suppose that 'horrors' and 'murder' sound just as vulgar to Monsieur Vaux or to Judge Hart as Nora's exclamations do to you?" "Well, I can't help it," said Kate. "I've got to use words, and if I can't use what I like and when I like, I may as well use the mute alphabet and done with it. I can't be horribly proper and say pine, prune, and prism all the time. It's horrid of people to act so to me." "Nonsense," her brother rejoined. "You're not a steam-engine. Your intellectual machinery wouldn't burst if you didn't pull the interjectional safety-valve quite as often. But cheer up, Puss, we shall see Queen Katherine a lady yet, or I am no prophet." And with a kiss upon Kate's pouting lips, Leonard took up his paper. A very sober and demure maiden spent the evening at Mr. Gray's. The dainty crochet-hook she was using flashed in and out of the scarlet hood as if it had a will of its own; but her tongue was so silent that her father thought she must be sick. She was as gay as ever the next morning. She danced down to breakfast, overtook her little grandma, picked her up and put her in the arm-chair, set the other chairs up to the table in a twinkling, and cried out to Nora, as she came in: "Nora, your coffee smells perfectly gorgeous this morning." "Yes," said Leonard, "it's almost as gorgeous as a butterfly's wing." Snub Number One, thought Kate. Believe I'll keep count to-day. "Here, Grandma, you must have one of these waffles. They're simply magnificent!" "That's about what I should say of the Cathedral of Milan," began Mr. Gray; when Kate interrupted him with: "Oh! Papa, please don't make my life a burden to me." The next day was Sunday, and Kate went to her class, as usual. "Isn't it queer that this lesson, 'The Tongue and the Temper,' comes to-day?" she said to herself, and she entered very heartily into the discussion of it. "I sometimes think," she said, gravely, "that we should be better off if we couldn't speak. Anyhow, 'It's puzzlin' work, talkin' is,' as Mrs. Tulliver remarked. I know I shouldn't have many vexations if it were not for my tongue. It aggravates my temper horribly." Miss Kent said it was no wonder the tongue was called the unruly member; but she should be very sorry if the tongue could not be governed. After a few words upon profane swearing, she passed on to the more common ways that people take to secure sufficient emphasis to their statements, using just such expressions as were in vogue among her girls. "Why, Miss Kent," said one, "do you call such words wrong?" "Here are Christ's own words," she replied: "'But let your communication be, Yea, yea; nay, nay; for whatsoever is more than these cometh of evil.'" "It's dreadfully hard to be so very precise," said Lily Sylvester, with a sigh. "Yes, bad habits are not easily overcome; but, if there were no words like these, it seems to me that no real lady would use questionable language. A rough expression is like a discord in music to people of culture. We judge of a lady by her speech, and no amount of fine dressing can cover up a coarse or vulgar phrase." "No, indeed," said May Selden, "when I was going to New York last spring, there was such a lovely lady on the cars, dressed so beautifully! I couldn't keep from looking at her. Papa sat with his back to her, and, when I wanted him just to turn around carelessly and look at her, he laughed and made me take his chair. Do you know, Miss Kent, she hardly said a sentence without putting 'I vum,' or 'I swan,' or some such thing in it. She was perfectly horrid to me after that." "You understand, then, how people feel about the words you use, and why your friends wish you to speak correctly, truthfully, and elegantly." "Truthfully!" echoed Kate. "Do you think we don't tell the truth?" "Do you never get perfectly ravenous or completely exhausted? Are you never dead with the heat? Do you never study yourself blind?" "I'm sure, people know what we mean," said Lily. "But I wonder we do not say what we mean," remarked the teacher, with a smile. "Mamma says I'm in the effervescent state," said May; "and she hopes the froth is almost gone." "Please tell us, Miss Kent, if your tongue was ever unruly?" asked Kate, who was very grave indeed. "Very unruly. And I had several severe mortifications before I set about a thorough reformation of my speech." Our friend Kate wore a very preoccupied look for several days after this. She made frequent use of a certain little note-book; she pored over Latin, French, and German grammars. When her researches ended, she called a meeting of her particular friends, and the secret came out. "Young ladies, my most illustrious fellow-sufferers," began the gay little orator, "I'll tell you what I've made up my mind to. I'm going to govern my tongue, instead of allowing it to govern me. I'm going to stop using slang. I'm going to mean just exactly what I say. I'm going to use simple, correct, truthful language, if I can. And it's going to be awful (I mean very) hard to do it, unless you girls will help. Now, can't we form a Society for the Promotion of Ladylike Language, with initiations, and offices, and fines, and all that? I've a long list of perfectly harmless and proper interjections—French, German, and Latin—that we can use when our feelings are 'too many for us,' as Mrs. Cluppins would say. I'll hektograph them for you, if you'll do it; and all the rules and regulations, too, if you'll only help." "Did you say you would never use slang?" asked Ida. "'What, never?' and 'hardly ever'—must we exist without that?" said May. "I'm sure, I've heard enough of 'Pinafore,'" said Kate. "And must I part with all my pet words—that I made on Barbara Holabird's plan? Some of them were too expressive!" "Then it's time you drop them," laughed Kate. And so, with much jesting, but with a deal more of earnest talk, the S. P. L. L. was formed, with a constitution, by-laws, and all of the usual formalities; but it is a very secret society, and, had I not given ear to a little bird, how should I have known why those nine girls wear such queerly-shaped bows of flame-colored ribbon, bearing the cabalistic letters "S. P. L. L."?—S. E. Dowd, in Independent. ONE of the most fascinating women I ever saw was very homely, but she had such a charming manner that no one remembered that she was plain. One of the most beautiful had prominent eyes, rather prominent teeth, and altogether irregular features, yet no one could see her and not recognize the fact that she was beautiful; it was the beauty of a lovely soul shining through and transfiguring the whole. I will give you a very short rule for being pretty—think prettily, act prettily, live prettily. You can all remember that; and the more you think of it, the more you will see how much is comprised in it. Be always neat in your dress; dress as tastefully as you like or are able. But the question of dress, aside from neatness, should be considered subordinate; the rest depends more on your character and manner than you can at present realize.541 A girl who is cross, selfish, petulant, over-bearing and discontented, cannot prevent those qualities from writing their character indelibly upon her face sooner or later; while one who is, or tries to be good, patient, thoughtful, loving, gracious and full of a charity that thinketh no evil, also has written on her face the testimony of her real life, and grows more beautiful as she grows older. This is the kind of beauty to strive to obtain. Be regular in your habits; have society, but not to dissipation. By late hours, excitement, unhealthy living, lack of occupation and lack of exercise, you lessen the tone of your system, lose the bloom of health, and, so intimately are mind and body connected, impair also the tone of your mind; the effect is, of course, to make you lose even the beauty that is always, to a greater or less extent, the accompaniment of the freshness and fairness of youth. Youth should only be, however, the promise of the bud; the full flower of beauty should come with the fullness of life and development and it will do so where the heart is pure, and the life righteous, for the writing comes from within, not from without.—Arthur's Home Magazine. Only a bank of weeds, of simple weeds,
Of sweet wild thyme and yellow, scented broom,
Of tangled grass, and slender wind-blown reeds,
Of brown notched ferns and tall spiked foxglove bloom.
And yet a world of beauty garners there,
Low-twitt'ring birds, soft scents and colors fair. Only a narrow mound, a long, low mound,
Snow-covered, 'neath a wintry, leaden sky,
Unlit by moon or stars; and all around
Through bare, brown trees the night winds moan and sigh.
And yet a world of love lies buried there,
Passion and pain, bright hopes and dull despair. Oh, golden bank, where sunbeams glint and play,
Bloom out in fragrance with a hundred flowers!
Oh, narrow mound, keep till the Judgment day
The mournful secrets of these hearts of ours!
Then in God's light let joy and sorrow fade,
For near his brightness both alike are shade.
—Temple Bar.