“And Moses told these sayings unto the children of Israel; and the people mourned greatly.”
THE “sayings” that Moses told unto the children of Israel were the threatenings that the Lord made when the people murmured against him as they listened to the evil report of the ten spies concerning the land of Canaan. See Num. 14:26–37. The people had murmured and rebelled again and again, notwithstanding God had manifested such love, and patience, and care for them all their tedious journey thus far. And now when they were on the verge of the promised land, they must murmur and rebel again. This was once too often, and now the decree was passed that for forty years they must wander in the desert, until all that generation should lie down in death, and then their children should go up and possess the land.
What disappointment, regret, and remorse must have seized them as they beheld the promised inheritance fade from their view, and they realized that it never could be theirs to enjoy the beauties and riches of that land, which had for so many generations been the hope of their people—the land that was promised to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob; but in the desert must they wander until they should close their eyes in death! After passing a weary, sleepless night, they rose early, as one man, and came to Moses with confession, saying, “We have sinned, but we are now ready and will go up unto the place which the Lord hath promised.” Moses said, “Go not up, for the Lord is not among you.” Nevertheless, they presumed to go up unto the hilltop, and as a result the Amalekites and Canaanites came down and discomfited them, for Moses and the ark of God had tarried in the camp.
This incident reminds one of a time long before, when Noah for many years labored to prepare a place of refuge from the gathering storm of God’s wrath, meanwhile pleading with men to flee from the wrath to come. But they laughed him to scorn, until the rain began to fall, and then no doubt many clustered around the ark confessing their sins and pleading to be taken in. But alas! it was too late; an angel had shut the door, and no man might open it. I turn my eyes forward now, and I see another day coming,—“a day of darkness and of gloominess; a day of clouds and of thick darkness;” a day when “the heavens shall depart as a scroll, and every mountain and every island shall be moved out of their places;” a day when mercy will plead no longer, for Christ will have risen up and closed to the door and no man can open it.
At that day many will come with pleadings to be sheltered from the wrath of a long-suffering God; but, alas, it will be too late! Oh, how bitter will be the cry that will go up then, “The harvest is past, the summer is ended,361and I am not saved! How many gracious calls have I refused to listen to! how many times God sent his warning messages to me, but I closed my ears to them! how many times have I heard the still, soft, pleading tones of my Saviour's gentle voice, but I laughed him to scorn! Now it is too late; never shall I hear them more.” Then will go up one long, pleading, agonizing cry, “Lord, Lord, open unto us; we are ready now to do thy bidding and to go up and possess the land.” But the answer then will be, “Depart; you have made your choice, and now there is no more opportunity given for any to enter.”
Oh, the agony of such a time as that! But is there not a brighter picture with which to close the scene? Yes, praise the Lord, there is. As faithful Noah, and Caleb, and Joshua stood firm and true amid the surrounding rebellion, so God will have a tried people who will come up in that day clad in the garments of salvation, a little handful of people who will have washed their robes in the blood of the Lamb, and have come up through great tribulation. And now their labors, their cares, their sorrows, their agonizing pleadings, are all past, and they stand calm and unmoved amid the surrounding destruction; joy lights up every countenance, and praise bursts forth from every lip, “unto Him that loved us, and washed us from our sins in His own blood, and hath made us kings and priests unto God and His Father; to Him be glory and dominion, forever and ever. Amen.”
Reader, you and I may share in that song, and the time is near.
Hebron, Wisconsin.
INFIDEL CREDULITY.
THOSE who boast that they believe nothing are frequently the first to believe almost anything. The human mind is pendulous, and swings back and forth, from utter faithlessness to blind credulity. Thus, the man who believes nothing that he cannot understand, believes in a creation without a Creator, in laws without a lawgiver, and in scientific theories which are so absurd that the men who invent them speedily throw them overboard, but not until they have been formally adopted by men who know nothing of the facts in the case, but simply believe anything that will encourage them in unbelief, and doubt everything which would lead them to a true faith.
Unbelief is exceedingly illogical. The man whose faith is limited by his vision, never would invent, never would discover, anything. He lives in his own narrow world. What he can see and feel is his, but his mind has no reach beyond. There have been numerous instances of the most blind and undistinguishing credulity on the part of the men who profess to be very skeptical. Multitudes of the infidels of other years who believed neither in God nor the devil, neither in souls nor in spirits, were brought to believe in the “spiritual manifestations” which are current, and to swallow communications and theories and doctrines which would have taxed the powers of Jonah’s fish. The man who has no faith in religion is often the man who has faith in a nightmare. Julius Cæsar publicly denounced a belief in a hereafter, and rejected the idea of a soul and a Deity, yet muttered a charm when he entered a chariot, and did not cross the Rubicon until he had consulted the omens. Lord Herbert, of Cherbury, writes a book against Revelation, and asks a sign from heaven to tell him if his book is approved by his Maker. The man who cannot believe in the miracles performed by the Saviour, gravely tells of a miracle vouchsafed to himself.—The Christian.
HOW TO FIND REST.
By Rev. Theodore L. Cuyler
BY REV. THEODORE L. CUYLER.
WHEN Noah's dove found no rest for her weary wing, what did she do? We read that she "returned into the ark." Here is the duty of every restless, sin-troubled soul. God says, "Return unto me." Listen to the invitation of the divine love. When the dove returned, she brought nothing but herself. So you can bring nothing to Jesus except one poor, guilty, unsatisfied sinner. Do not bring your sins; do not bring any claims of self-righteousness; they will not pay for the transportation. Jesus wants you, and you need Jesus. Then come to him just as you are, a weak, crippled soul, utterly powerless to help or to heal yourself. The prodigal son only brought one ragged, shoeless, half-starved wretch to his father's door, but that was all the good old father wanted to see. Jesus wants you.
Remember that there was only one ark for Noah's dove to fly to; on every side was the desolation of a drowned world. So God has provided only one ark for your weary, wandering soul. He has not provided a variety of religions, and left us to take our choice. He does not perplex you with several "historical religions," for there is none other name given under heaven whereby you can be saved than the name of Him whose blood cleanseth from all sin. Prince and peasant, philosopher and pauper child, have the same disease, and can only be cured by the same Physician. The core of all true creeds and confessions of faith is just this: "Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners." And the sweet, winsome message he sends to your troubled heart is, "Come to me, and I will give you rest."
Observe, too, that the ark had only "one window." All the light and the air came in through that single casement. Beautifully does that single open window typify unto you the illumination of the Holy Spirit. How strikingly it illustrates the fact that every soul which flies toward Jesus must come into the new life through the guiding and renewing influence of the divine Spirit. Regeneration brings the penitent sinner in vital union with Christ; the Spirit alone regenerates.
Troubled friend, the window is open; the blessed Spirit is drawing you now. It is not a pastor, or an evangelist, or a visit to an inquiry meeting, that you need, or can give you relief. Coöperate with the Holy Spirit. Go whither he leads; do what he bids you. Quit the sins which hold you back, and yield your whole self up to Christ. In fact, the coming in through that open window of light and hope into the pardoning love and strength and fullness of the crucified Son of God, is saving faith. It is not the opinion about Christ, but the act of grasping yourself fast to Christ, that alone can save your soul. When you do what the weary dove did,—when you give over everything else and just betake yourself straight to the only ark of refuge, and light down there,—your immediate duty is done. Then the infinitely loving Jesus will do for you what the patriarch did for the returning dove,—he will "draw you in,"—into a covenant union with himself, into a new life, new light, new strength, new hope—everything is become new—into a wondrous and satisfying peace. As your fluttering soul yields itself to the all-sufficient Saviour, you will hear him say, "My peace I give unto you; not as the world giveth, give I unto you; let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid." When you find Jesus, you have found rest.—Selected.
No Smuggling into Christ’s Kingdom
"You cannot smuggle yourself into the kingdom of Christ."
"OUTWARD reformation can never be accepted of God as a substitute for inward cleansing."
The Ice-Cream Freezer and Revival
"And now the last winter's revival in many churches is to be chilled by the ice-cream freezer."
OUR IDOLS.
By J. P. Henderson
BY ELDER J. P. HENDERSON.
COVETOUSNESS is said to be idolatry. Col. 3: 5. Webster defines an idol as "that upon which the affections are strongly, excessively, and improperly set." When affections are placed upon that which is supreme, there can be no rivals to create jealousy. When God, who is the embodiment of all that is good, becomes our chief object of adoration, nothing disturbs the peace and equanimity of mind, as nothing can rival that which is of itself perfect. When imperfect things, however, are enthroned in the heart's affections, rivals create jealousy, and lead to hatred, persecution, murder, and every excess of cruelty to which the human heart may be degenerated. "Jealousy is cruel as the grave." Cant. 8: 6.
When pride and the love of dress are enthroned in us, we are disturbed by seeing others in better circumstances or arrayed more gorgeously than ourselves. If money is our god, we feel unkindly toward them who are more successful in its accumulation, and are inclined to speak disparagingly of them; we also feel an apparent satisfaction in their failures and mishaps.
If love of self—which is the Apollo of the human family—predominates, it renders us uncomfortable in nearly every circumstance of life. Our imperfections are concealed beneath a cloak of self-righteousness; we love flattery and are discomforted if another is preferred before us.
Isaiah speaks of idols made with our own hands, "that which our own fingers have made," and says, "each one for himself to worship." Isa. 2: 8, 20. These may include our decorated homes, ornaments, paintings, and anything that becomes our pride. Pride fostered in our children leads to idolatry. The little heads are soon filled with love of self, and images are conceived which eventually dethrone the God of heaven.
The Pantheon of Rome finds a counterpart in almost every human heart of to-day, and "many gods" take the place of the true one in all our affections. Truth alone is the "queen of heaven" and "sits in the heart of God." She is arrayed in modest apparel, and demands the adoration of all. Every knee must bow and every tongue confess before Him who is her personification, even Jesus, in whose fullness we should all dwell.—Workers' Bulletin.
UNTRUTHFULNESS OF SERVANTS.
“MARY, if anybody calls, I am out.” These words were spoken recently in my hearing, says Helen S. Conant in the Ladies’ Home Journal—spoken, too, by sweet lips, lips that would have proudly scorned to tell a lie. And yet this was a lie direct. We were sitting in my friend’s cozy upstairs snuggery, and she had just expressed a hope that no one would come to interrupt the confidential chat we were enjoying so much. “We will not be interrupted,” she exclaimed. “Mary, if anybody calls, I am out.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Mary very demurely, as she left the room.
“Was that right, my dear?” I said. “Do you expect Mary to be truthful to you when you teach her to lie for you?”
Of course there was no denying the fact that wrong had been done—wrong to Mary, the maid, wrong to the friend who might call to be turned away with a lie, and wrong to the sweet, youthful lips which had spoken the thoughtless and untruthful words. Still my friend tried to justify herself.
“Everybody does it. I am told constantly that people are out when I know they are at home,” she said.
Now, the fact that everybody does a thing never made wrong right. In this case, however, everybody does not do it. A thoughtful, honorable woman has too much respect for herself, and too much respect for her servants, to stoop to such a falsehood. We do not always stop to think of the power of example, nor of how closely we are watched by those whose opportunities for pure moral development have been much less than our own.
Truthfulness is a necessary quality in a servant. Misdeeds are forgiven and forgotten when they are frankly confessed. We are sorry for the broken dish when the maid comes to us with the pieces in her hand, but we rejoice in the feeling of confidence it gives us that we are receiving faithful if not always careful service; but it is different when we find the pieces hidden away at the back of a high shelf, or discover them by accident in the ash barrel. A mistress who will deliberately instruct her maid to tell a lie cannot expect to know the truth of what goes on in the kitchen, and if she does not, she is in a large measure to blame for it, for in telling falsehoods herself she loses the respect of her servants, and a mistress who is not respected will never be well served, neither can she exert a good influence upon those humble workers who, for the time being, are members of her household, as it is her duty to do.
I have been a housekeeper for thirty years, and it is not theory but experience that leads me to say that many failings of the maids in the kitchen spring from the failings of the mistress. There are bad servants, as every housekeeper knows, with failings of their own, often inherited from or developed by former mistresses, but so deeply rooted that the most judicious treatment fails to overcome them. On the other hand, there are many young girls fresh from the old country who have good inclinations, and who can easily be made truthful, and honest, and upright, if the mistress will set the example by always holding herself quiet, and kind, and firm, and truthful, as a true lady should. We are too careless before our servants. We allow them to see our weaknesses, our little ebullitions of temper, our petty subterfuges.
There is one household which I have watched many years where trouble with servants is unknown. I cannot believe that good girls always come to that particular mistress. That she is judicious in choosing those who shall enter her household I do not doubt, but that alone is not enough to secure the domestic peace which always reigns within her doors. Her servants remain with her for years, and they serve her well and faithfully because she secures their respect and their affection. The discipline of that household is perfect. A firm, sweet woman’s hand touches every detail, and a kind and true woman’s heart smooths the rough places and settles all the little differences. There is no need to say that this mistress never teaches her maid to tell an untruth. If she is obliged to refuse herself to a friend, she sends a message which is true, accompanied by some sweet word of regret, which is sure to be pleasantly received.
Every lady has a right to refuse herself to friends when sickness, weariness, or some domestic duty makes it difficult, impossible, perhaps, to be at the time a gracious and courteous hostess. The message of refusal, however, can be so worded that no person of any common sense or judgment could feel offended. “Mrs Brown is engaged,” is abrupt and not to be recommended, although it may be the truth, but there are many ways of making it more gracious. “Mrs. Brown cannot receive to-day,” is simple, truthful, and should offend no one, as, if the maid delivers the message at the door to each and all alike, it is evident that no slight is intended.
Many ladies now have one day in the week when they are “at home.” This arrangement becomes necessary in large cities where one’s circle of acquaintances is extensive and calling is a matter of ceremony. But the fact that a lady sets apart one day to receive friends is no excuse for instructing the maid to tell an untruth to those who, for some reason, call on another day, but it is a reason why those who call out of season have no right to be offended when they are told that “Mrs. Brown is not receiving.”—Selected.
THE WORK CAUSED BY THE RETURN OF A TWO-CENT STAMP.
A LETTER signed with initials and mailed at the Washington post office was received the other day at the Post Office Department. The writer inclosed a two-cent stamp, with the following explanatory remark for the benefit of the postmaster general:—
I received a letter through your office yesterday; the canceling stamp failed to cancel the stamp. I tore the stamp off and used it. Now my conscience has got the best of me. You will please find inclosed a two-cent stamp to go to the “Conscience Fund.”
As it was not money, the stamp was not sent to the Treasury Department, where there is a special fund for the benefit of those who are overcome by the pangs of conscience. The letter was sent on the official round, and as much ink and good paper was consumed in recording its reception in the department and its final disposition as if it had been $10,000, instead of a sickly two-cent stamp. It was first of all recorded in the book of letters received in the postmaster general’s office, and was then sent, as indorsed by the chief clerk, to the third assistant postmaster general. When it reached the latter office, it was referred by the third assistant postmaster general to the Finance Division. Another record was made in the book of the office of letters received and jacketed. Then it found its way to the Finance Division. The chief of that division pasted the stamp on the letter, drew two cross marks through the stamp and marked under it the word “canceled,” and signed his name. This operation was witnessed by a clerk, who affixed his name as witness, and then the letter, having reached the end of its red-tape journey, was duly and properly deposited in the files, where it will remain as an evidence to future generations that this petit larceny upon the government was regularly and officially atoned for. In case the citizen whose conscience was disturbed wishes to establish the fact that he has made restitution, he can refer to the documents in the case, which the Post Office Department will kindly preserve for him without charge.—The American.
GALLEY SLAVES.
THE life of the French galley slaves of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries has been thus described by Admiral de la Graviere:—
“They place seven men on each bench—that is to say, in a space ten feet long by four feet wide. They are so packed away that you can see nothing from stern to bow but the heads of the sailors. The captain and the officers are not much better off.
“When the seas overtake the galleys, when the north wind howls along the coast, or when the sirocco dampens the passengers with its deadly moisture, all these make the galley unendurable. The lamentations of the ship’s company, the shrieks of the sailors, the horrible howling of the convicts, the groaning of the timbers, mixed with the clanking of the chains and the natural noises of the storm, produce an effect that will terrify the bravest of men. Even the calm has its inconvenience. The horrid smells are so powerful that you cannot withstand them, despite the fact that you use tobacco in some shape from morning till night.”
Condemned in 1701 to serve in the galleys of France on account of being a Protestant, Jean Martelle de Bugerac died in 1777, at Galenburg, on the Gueldre, at the age of ninety-five. He says:—
“All the convicts are chained to a bench; these benches are four feet apart, and covered with a bag stuffed with wool, on which is thrown a sheepskin. The overseer, who is master of the slaves, remains aft, near the captain, to receive his orders. There are two sub-overseers,—one amidships, the other on the bow. Each one of them is armed with a whip, which he exercises on the naked bodies of the crew.
“When the captain orders the boat off, the overseer gives a signal from a silver whistle which hangs from his neck. This is repeated by the two others, and at once the slaves strike the water. One would say the fifty oars were but one.
“Imagine six men chained to a bench, naked as they were born, one foot on the foot rest, the other braced against the seat in front, holding in their hands an oar of enormous weight, stretching their bodies out and extending their arms forward toward the backs of those before them, who have the same attitude.
“The oar thus advanced, they raise the end they hold in their hand, so that the other end shall plunge into the sea. That done, they throw themselves back and fall on their seats,363which bend on receiving them. Sometimes the slaves row ten, twelve, or even twenty hours at a time, without relaxation.
“The overseer or someone else on such occasions puts into the mouth of the unfortunate rower a morsel of bread steeped with wine to prevent his fainting. If by chance one falls over—which often happens—he is beaten until he is supposed to be dead, and then thrown overboard without ceremony.”
CONTENT.
HAPPY the man that, when his day is done,
Lies down to sleep with nothing of regret;
The battle he has fought may not be won,
The fame he sought be just as fleeting; yet,
Folding at last his hand upon his breast,
Happy is he if, hoary and forespent,
He sinks into the last, eternal rest,
Breathing these only words, “I am content.”
But happier he that, while his blood is warm,
Sees hopes and friendships dead about him lie,
Bares his brave breast to envy’s bitter storm,
Nor shuns the poison barbs of calumny;
And, mid it all, stands sturdy and elate,
Girt only in the armor God hath meant
For him who ‘neath the buffetings of fate
Can say to God and man, “I am content.”
—Selected.
A SPECIFIC FOR SNAKE BITES.
QUITE a number of years ago a soldier in India claimed to have a secret remedy for the poison of the cobra, the most venomous of serpents. It is generally believed that his specific was all that he alleged, but the authorities were slow in buying his recipe, and he died before it was made known. Very few of the persons bitten now recover, and the alleged cures for the bites of other snakes are far from certain in their operation. Greater hope is to be placed in speedy treatment, and in the exceptionally vigorous constitution of the patient, than in any remedy. It is now announced that injections of a one per cent. solution of the permanganate of potash is a sure cure for snake bites. M. Lacerda has experimented on a number of dogs, with the happiest effect in nearly every case. The animals recovered, at furthest, after twenty-five minutes' suffering. Other dogs inoculated with the same venom, to whom the antidote was not given, uniformly died. The discovery, if confirmed, is of great importance. Many thousands of persons are killed annually in India by cobras and other snakes, while the vipers of some of the West Indian Islands are hardly less destructive. We are not told what venom M. Lacerda selected. The poison of some snakes disorganizes the blood, separating the watery from the solid constituents. That of others turns the blood into jelly. Whether the potash will prove equally efficacious in regard to both classes remains to be proved. Enough, however, has been established to awaken strong expectations of the discovery of a much needed relief.
CONQUERED BY KINDNESS.
Boys often go astray from the very energy and restlessness of their natures, without any vicious purpose. If in such cases they are treated with severity and coerced by a stern authority, there is great peril that they may go from bad to worse, and end in shipwreck of character. But such boys have often a nature which may be reached by genuine sympathy and kindness, and moulded to a generous manhood. The following anecdote was told at a meeting of the London Sunday School Union, of James Kershaw, Esq., who died when a member of parliament for Stockport:—
When a lad ten years of age, he was in a Sunday school class in Manchester. The name of the superintendent of that school was Steele, a name very fragrant in that great town. James was a very troublesome boy. The teacher came up with his name to the superintendent, and again and again said:—
"I cannot do anything with him."
"But," said Mr. Steele, "I am sure there is something in James, if one knew how to develop it."
Again and again came the complaint, and again and again did this kind-hearted superintendent set it aside. At last this little boy broke through a rule which involved exclusion; and when the next Sunday came, the inquiry was, I believe, somewhat in this form:—
"Who of you have been to the races during the past week?"
None in this class, none in the other, none anywhere but James.
"Well," said the teacher, "you see the boy must go, Mr. Steele; a diseased sheep will infect the flock."
"But," said the superintendent, "I cannot part with that boy; let us have him up in the presence of the whole school."
Up he came, a fine, daring, defiant, handsome little fellow. All the school looked on and the superintendent said:—
"Now, James, I am sure, when you come to think of it, you are sorry you went to the races."
The little fellow shrugged his shoulders; he was not at all sorry. Then, just as one of you ladies would touch the keys of a piano, did the superintendent in his address try to touch the keys of that boy's heart, till at length he had produced some effect. Turning to the hundreds of boys in his presence, he said:—
"My lads, if we turn James out of the school, he will go to the bad and become worse. Shall he go?"
"No, no, no!" shouted three hundred voices, and James burst into tears, fairly conquered by affection—fairly won by love.
What he became afterwards there are Manchester gentlemen on this platform who can tell you better than I.
He became a member of parliament; he became a member of a Christian Church. His £100 a year was always carefully paid into the London Missionary Society, and sixty guineas, as I know, to the Manchester City Mission; and I may also say, as I happened to have some pleasant acquaintance with him, that there were many things which his right hand did which his left hand was not allowed to know. Now he has gone—one of the brightest trophies of Sunday-school instruction.—British Messenger.
MENTAL INEBRIATES.
WHAT shall our children read? is a serious question, and demands a serious answer. I am troubled to see, in Christian families, periodicals and newspapers containing continued stories that leave no impress of good upon the mind. I have watched those whose taste for fiction has been thus cultivated. They have had the privilege of listening to the truths of God's word, of becoming acquainted with the reasons of our faith; but they have grown to mature years destitute of true piety. These dear youth need so much to put into their character building the very best material,—the love and fear of God and a knowledge of Christ.
But many have not an intelligent understanding of the truth as it is in Jesus. The mind is feasted upon sensational stories. They live in an unreal world, and are unfitted for the practical duties of life. I have observed children allowed to come up in this way. Whether at home or abroad, they are either restless or dreamy, and are unable to converse, save upon the most common-place subjects. The nobler faculties, those adapted to higher pursuits, have been degraded to the contemplation of trivial or worse than trivial subjects, until their possessor has become satisfied with such topics, and scarcely has power to reach anything higher. Religious thought and conversation have become distasteful. The mental food for which he has acquired a relish is contaminating in its effects, and leads to impure and sensual thoughts. I have felt sincere pity for these souls as I have considered how much they are losing by neglecting opportunities to gain a knowledge of Christ, in whom our hopes of eternal life are centered. How much precious time is wasted, in which they might be studying the pattern of true goodness!
Those who have indulged the habit of racing through exciting stories, are crippling their mental strength, and disqualifying themselves for vigorous thought and research. There are men and women now in the decline of life who have never recovered from the effects of intemperate reading. The habit, formed in early years, has grown with their growth and strengthened with their strength; and their efforts to overcome it, though determined, have been only partially successful. Many have never recovered their original vigor of mind. All attempts to become practical Christians end with the desire. They cannot be truly Christlike and continue to feed the mind upon this class of literature. Nor is the physical effect less disastrous. The nervous system is unnecessarily taxed by this passion for reading. In some cases, youth, and even those of mature age, have been afflicted with paralysis from no other cause than excess in reading. The mind was kept under constant excitement, until the delicate machinery of the brain became so weakened that it could not act, and paralysis was the result.—Christian Temperance and Bible Hygiene.
HOUSEHOLD HINTS.
A LITTLE salt will bring up a low fire if thrown on.
PINE floors can be treated to a coating of boiled linseed oil.
A DULLED steel pen can be improved by heating it in a gas jet.
SCRATCHES on furniture can be rubbed with beeswax melted in linseed oil.
A BAG of charcoal hung in a cistern of water will absorb all the bad odor.
A GOOD cement for china is ordinary carriage varnish. It is not affected by water.
KEROSENE oil will soften boots and shoes that have been hardened by water, and render them as pliable as new.
TO KEEP butter hard, without ice, take a new flower pot, wash it clean, wrap it in a wet cloth, and set it over the butter.
SALTS of lemon—equal parts of powdered oxalic acid and tartaric acid—applied to rust and ink spots on clothing, will remove them.
TO DESTROY the odor of paint in a newly painted room, put a handful of fresh hay in a bucket of water and let it stand in the room overnight.—Every Thursday.
DANGER IN DUST.
WHOEVER thinks of dust as anything more than an inconvenience? Of what is dust made up? Think of this a moment, and its very complex and dangerous character will become apparent. Here are a few of the components of dust: Fine earth, fragments of wood, cotton, wool, feathers, and almost everything under the sun; dried excreta, spittle, filth from the gutter, and every possible kind of offensive matter.
Dr. Mackenzie, of London, has observed that there is much more sickness in dusty weather than at other times. Sore throats, catarrhs, cold, sore eyes, and numerous other maladies abound during dusty weather. House dust is simply street dust brought indoors by the wind, or adhering to uncleaned boots and shoes.—Good Health.
A LONG-DISTANCE STORK.
An interesting story is told in a foreign paper of a stork which traveled wisely and well. For years he and his mate regularly built their nest in the park at Schloss Ruhleben, near Berlin. The owner of the castle, desiring to ascertain whether the same stork always returned there, ordered that a steel ring, upon which was engraved the name of the place and the date, 1890, should be fastened around the bird's left leg. Last spring the stork came back as usual to the park, and upon his other leg was a ring of silver, bearing the inscription, "India sends Germany her greeting."—Our Animal Friends.
Open Doors among the Castes of India
By S. N. Haskell
INDIA. NO. 8.
BY ELDER S. N. HASKELL.
Open Doors among the Castes of India.
NO ONE method of missionary labor will fit all classes and castes of India, any more than any one method will fit all cases in the more enlightened countries. Some enter cities and openly preach the gospel of Christ, and baptize [sprinkle] them upon their confessing Christ instead of their idolatrous worship before they return home, claiming that this breaks them from their idolatrous worship, and gives access to their dwellings. It cannot be supposed that these individuals are converted, or at least but a small proportion of them, when they have thus confessed Christ. This course is severely criticised by the more cautious and careful missionaries. They do not think that such work contributes to the establishing of the kingdom of Christ; for it arouses but little opposition, and while it gathers a mass of nominal professors, the real possessors are said to be very few.
The caste population of India, especially the females, are excluded from public gaze. Two methods are the principal means of reaching this class of people. First, by personal labor in their homes by lady missionaries. When they once have access to a family and they become interested, they are sent forth to gather others in, and the missionary meets with them regularly, adapting her teaching to the religious belief of her hearers. By constant labor, with the spirit of devotion and sacrifice, they become adept in this work of reaching souls. There are millions of homes in India which are thus reached, and there are thousands of laborers wanted to enter this work.
The power of God is made manifest in the labors of such individuals who are thoroughly consecrated to God, and have given their lives to this kind of work. Their labors never become conspicuous, for the exclusiveness of the caste prevents it. It requires the greatest caution and wisdom on the part of the missionary to labor successfully; for a violation of their caste rules would nullify all the good she could accomplish. Said a missionary, "When I first begun to labor with them, I frequently destroyed all my influence upon them after making good impressions, by some act of kindness, as I supposed, on my part, in their behalf." At one time, after repeated visits to a very poor family, when she had created a favorable impression and thought they were about to yield their hearts to God, knowing that they were poor, and having a kettle of soup upon the fire, she thinking it was burning, the missionary, to do her a favor, stirred that which was in the kettle. As soon as she left, she noticed that this lady came to the door and threw it all out. She thought it must be because it had burned and was unfit for use; so on her way home she stopped at a shop, purchased more vegetables, and carried them with her own hands back to this lady, and gave them to her. By some means she learned a day or two after that she had had nothing to eat. Upon inquiry as to the cause, she found that uncaste hands had stirred the kettle and brought her provisions, which she would rather suffer great deprivation than use. Mrs. Badley, however, redeemed herself by sending her money, that she could purchase food for herself, and have it delivered by servants of her caste.
Many amusing incidents are also related; but enough is said to illustrate the difficulties of laboring with this people. Would the reader say it was good enough for them, that they ought to learn better? To such we would say, they would better study carefully the eighth and ninth chapters of 1 Corinthians and learn the meaning of these words, "To the weak became I as weak, that I might gain the weak; I am made all things to all men, that I might by all means save some. And this I do for the gospel's sake, that I might be partaker thereof with you." 1 Cor. 9: 22, 23.
The following incident was related me by Mrs. Dr. Badley, of Lucknow, India. The circumstance transpired in that city. A missionary lady was laboring among certain secluded Mohammedan ladies. She was seeking to impress upon their minds that Christ had more power than Mahomet. To do this she read and commented upon the man who was born blind, and that the Saviour healed and forgave his sins; and the blind man thus was led to worship the Saviour. See John 9. She had no thought of conveying to her hearers the idea that the Saviour would restore the blind now, but that he was able to do this; and consequently he alone could forgive sins, and to lean upon any other support would prove a broken reed. Present at the interview was a lady who had lost her sight. She could only discern light from darkness, and had been told by eminent physicians that there was no hope for her only by a very painful operation, and then it was ten chances to one if she would not lose her sight altogether. Her desire for sight was so great that her heart was wrung with anguish at the thought that she would probably never again have her sight. The missionary woman took great interest in her case, and manifested much heart sympathy. The next time the missionary returned, she met her with a happy face, having the assurance of her Saviour's love, her countenance beaming with joy, and her sight had been restored.
The following is the substance of the Mohammedan lady's own story.
After you left the other day, I thought I would go to your Jesus and see what he would do for me. I purified a place and made ready, so that at the regular season of prayer (Mohammedans pray seven times a day) I told Jesus that the missionary woman had been here and she had said that he could forgive sins and restore the blind. I told him that the missionary woman said that he was in heaven, but that he looked down and saw us and pitied us and heard us pray just the same as though he was here upon the earth. I then told him that, as he was not here personally, I would make the clay and put it on my eyes, then I would go and wash and trust that he would heal my eyes. I went and washed and came seeing. My eyes are perfectly restored. "Now," said the poor woman, whose heart was swelling with gratitude and praise to Him who had not only healed her eyes but had forgiven her sins, "I shall hereafter believe on your Jesus." Are there any who would question the power of God in the conversion of this soul to Jesus Christ?
Hundreds of young ladies are wanted to enter these secluded homes in India to-day, protected by the English Government, and administer consolation to not only such individuals, but to hundreds of thousands of Hindu widows, whose lives are made bitter by servitude and oppression, growing out of the accursed custom of caste. Are there not here open doors? Who is there that reads these lines that will not give himself to God and for the perishing souls in India?