THE missionary spirit is born from above. It is received in the act of regeneration. It is the spirit in man that is willing to make sacrifices for others, and even suffer in their behalf. It is the unselfish spirit, that sympathizes with the afflicted, comforts the grief-stricken, ministers to the wants of the needy and saves a soul from death. It is a divine energy in man manifesting itself in good words and deeds. The mission spirit seeks the lost in the mountains of transgression, in the deep mines of iniquity, in the highways and hedges, and in the wilderness of sin.
The mission spirit moved upon the heart of Peter in a vision, and he said, "Of a truth I perceive that God is no respecter of persons; but in every nation, he that feareth him and worketh righteousness, is accepted with him." The mission spirit is not exclusive and partial, but embraces all the human race.
The mission spirit impelled the apostle Paul to go from city to city proclaiming the good news of salvation and establishing the churches. No obstacle hindered the apostle, no danger intimidated, and persecution even to death's door could not quench this spirit. This spirit braved danger, crossed swollen rivers, passed over steep mountains, and embarked upon the tumultuous sea, to preach Christ and him crucified to kings and nations. The churches he established are monuments to the mission spirit. The letters he wrote were directed to mission churches. A certain one has said, "Had it not been for the foreign mission spirit, the Christian religion would never have seen its second century."
The reformation was the spirit of missions in opposition to the spirit of self-seeking, self-glory, and selfishness. It was the antagonism of the spiritual mind with the fleshly mind. It was the work of faith that justified, the work of love that purified, and the work of the Holy Spirit that instructed in righteousness. This spirit was contagious. It inspired a Calvin to defend, a Bunyan to illustrate the life and experience of a Christian, and a Wesley and Whitefield to preach to the poor.
It was the spirit of missions that fired the heart of Dr. Judson to lay broad foundations on which to build for Christ in India. From his heroic bravery in trials the most distressing, in discouragements the most perplexing, and in labors unceasing, the Christian world have been inspired and energized to do for missions.
The spirit of missions is widely diffused. It throbs in the heart of every faithful consistent worker for Christ. It unifies and organizes the Christian forces. It is the spirit of unselfish prayer, of whole-hearted consecration, and of unmeasured love. It not only calls for silver and gold, but skilled hands, wise heads, and willing hearts.
The mission spirit is intelligent. It calls for the educated, the self-sacrificing, and the wise of the body of Christ. It requires the gifted to meet in argument the opposers of Christianity. The native teachers are the first among the converts in natural endowments and acquired gifts. Every member of the body of Christ ought to study the life and journeys of the apostle Paul, and the life of Dr. Judson, and others, until the spirit of missions is revived, enlightened, and intensified. And then each individual Christian should study the different mission fields of the world, and learn something of their condition and needs. The sympathy for missions should be an intelligent one. And the giving should be with a knowledge of how the moneys are employed and the results accomplished. Missions depend upon the saints, those who live in Christ, and for Christ, and upon a knowledge of the fields, and the men and women employed.
The mission spirit is aggressive. There is no foe that can intimidate, no obstacle prevent its progress, no mountain of difficulties but can be removed. It is patient, persevering, and persistent. It is animated by the Spirit of Christ, peaceful in the midst of opposing forces, calm in the wildest tumult, and confident of success. It pushes out into the regions beyond, and ever responds to the Macedonian cry, "Come over and help us." The mission fields are ever widening, the work enlarging, the interest deepening and the fruits increasing. The missionary is sent into a new field, and soon calls for more workers and more teachers. The harvest is world-wide, "but the laborers are few."
The mission spirit pushes out into new fields and presses on to greater victories. It is not satisfied with the unfinished work. The aggressive spirit of missions would send every available man into the fields "white for the harvest," and all consecrated moneys and property into the treasury of the Lord. Prof. Christlieb says, "If a church can do nothing for foreign missions, she will soon begin to die at home." The mission spirit is then a necessity to the growth and prosperity of a church—to its spiritual development and life.
The mission spirit is fruitful in broadening Christian character, in developing the Spirit of Christ, and in building up the churches on the true foundation of future success. It is fruitful to every individual Christian in enlarged views of the work of Christ, and in deepening the love to God and for the souls of men. The Lord hath need of your faith in missions, that you may pray and pay for their success.
The mind of Christ is energized in every reform and in every benefaction for the good of mankind. It animates and stimulates the mission spirit and zeal. It guides and directs every worker in the vineyard, and every winner of souls. The mind of Christ is manifest in every act of kindness, the giving of a cup of cold water in his name; in every act of charity; the feeding of the hungry; in the teaching of the gospel, and in the discipling of the nations. There is an out-flow from the Sun of Righteousness, as the out-flow of rays from the sun in the heavens, and efficient are they who feel its warmth and receive its life-giving power.—Standard.
El Monte, Los Angeles Co., Cal.
By E. A. Briggs
The Lord's work still goes forward encouragingly in this county. The meetings in this village have been peculiarly embarrassed by stormy weather; yet a good interest has been shown, and nine have signed the covenant to keep the commandments of God and the faith of Jesus. Dozens of others acknowledge that we have the truth; and it is to be hoped that some of these also will obey. E. A. Briggs.
March 30, 1884.
Upper Columbia Conference.
By George Washington Colcord
GOLDENDALE, W. T.—For the present, I closed my labors at this place on the 16th inst. In the aggregate, have sold more than $60 worth of missionary stock, besides taking subscriptions to our periodicals. Have held three series of meetings in as many different neighborhoods. In this county Brn. Gibson and Ford have gained a good experience in public labor. On next to the last Sabbath I was with our friends at Goldendale, and organized a church of nine members. Bro. C. L. Hartly was chosen and ordained local elder. One who commenced keeping the Sabbath here last summer has gone to Salem, Or.; another to Dalles City, Or.; a third is keeping the Sabbath, but was not at the organization meeting. Four others had nearly decided to obey, but obstacles (?) arose, and they refused to rest on the sanctified day. Five different denominations opposed us, and their ministers were reviewed. Our friends chose Bro. Ford as their pastor (not in the popular sense, however), and to this charge he is appointed by the Conference.
All the members became missionary workers, and Sr. Ford is their librarian. The next step is to secure a house of worship, and they are talking of buying or building; then pray, hope, and work for others. May God bless Goldendale. G. W. COLCORD.
The Effect of Confession.
By Editor
ALL dissension in the church comes of the adversary; but the work of confession comes of the Holy Spirit. Hence we pity churches when they have "difficulty," and rejoice with them when confession is made. Elder A. J. Cudney thus writes to the Review from Schuyler, Nebraska.:—
"I spent last Sabbath and Sunday at this place. My heart was made to rejoice to see what the Lord has done for his people here. For a long time there has been a growing difficulty among some of the brethren, which has threatened the ruin of the church. The spirit of confession that commenced at Fremont some time ago, was carried to this place; and by the earnest and judicious management of Bro. Hoopes, confession was made, and wrongs righted, which served to unite hearts as they had never been before. In his testimony, last Sunday, one brother said he felt more like serving God than ever before. Heretofore his greatest ambition has been to accumulate property, and he has felt that he could not be separated from his family. Now he has decided to sell his property, put two thousand dollars in the cause, and give himself to the work. As a result of this work in the church, many others have become interested, some have commenced to obey the truth, and others are on the point of deciding. May the Holy Spirit continue to do its work. When we are right ourselves, we can best work for others."
Success and Happiness in Mission Work
A GENTLEMAN who has traveled in China says he wishes the people at home could see the difference between neglected heathen children, and those gathered into mission schools; and between foul and fighting Chinese at a market, and those in a quiet prayer-meeting where Christians are seeking the face of God. There are trials and difficulties in mission work, but there is success and happiness too.
THE UNPROFITABLE SERVANT.
By Kate B. Barnes
In a napkin, smooth and white,
Hidden from all mortal sight,
My one talent lies to-night.
Mine to hoard, or mine to use,
Mine to keep, or mine to lose,
May I not do what I choose?
Ah! the gift was only lent,
With the Giver's known intent
That it should be wisely spent.
And I know he will demand
Every farthing at my hand,
When I in his presence stand.
What will be my grief and shame,
When I hear my humble name,
And cannot repay his claim?
One poor talent—nothing more!
All the years that have gone o'er
Have not added to the store.
Some will double what they hold,
Others add to it ten-fold,
And pay back the shining gold.
Would that I had toiled like them!
All my sloth I now condemn;
Guilty fears my soul o'erwhelm.
Lord, O teach me what to do,
Make me faithful, make me true,
And the sacred trust renew.
Help me, ere too late it be,
Something yet to do for thee—
Thou who hast done all for me!
—Kate B. Barnes.
Compulsory Education and Irregular Attendance
Mr. Buxton, Chairman of the London School Board, states that, "anomalous as it may seem, the more vigorously compulsion is enforced against absentees, the greater the tendency to an irregular attendance" at school.
Mrs. Ormsby's Case.
GRANDMA ORMSBY had made up her mind, and when that clever woman did this you may rest assured something was to come of it.
Though a grandmother in fact, as well as in name, her appearance was not in the least venerable. To be sure, Time's frosty breath had left silvery gleams on her ebon hair, and tinged her cheek with a ruddier glow, still she was in the prime of life, and possessed everything to make length of days desirable.
True, she had had trials in the past, nor was the present free from care and anxiety. However, she was the sort of woman to "Rise to the level of the hour," be that hour's need great or small.
Yes, Martha Washington Ormsby had made up her mind. Not without careful consideration, and not without gravely consulting those in whose good sense, and on whose sound judgment, she placed implicit reliance.
To these friends she had said: "My plans are all laid now, and we are pledged to secrecy, are we not? What you see and hear goes no farther."
"No farther," they each and all responded.
After the settlement of so weighty a matter she felt free to anticipate Alrina's arrival.
Alrina, the youngest of three daughters, had been the first to marry. She was now thirty-two. At the early age of fifteen she had left all for love's sweet sake and accompanied Pemberton Lorton, aged twenty, to his home in a far western city.
After what seemed centuries of separation Mrs. Ormsby visited her daughter. This visit, paid soon after the sods greened over Mr. Ormsby's grave, somewhat cheered her widowed heart; still there were circumstances connected with it which she could never recall without pain. The hour was approaching, however, in which she hoped to triumph over a great wrong. This was no personal injury, understand. You'll find out all about it as my story runs on.
Meeting her daughter and son-in-law at the depot, Mrs. Ormsby met also a disappointment. The babe whose red-gold curls a red-gold sunset bathed, as he was handed into the carriage, was one of the sweetest cherubs out of the skies; still she regretted not seeing the older children.
"I thought you meant to bring them all," she said.
"Bring them all?" exclaimed Pemberton.
"Bring seven!" gasped Alrina.
"Yes," answered Mrs. Ormsby. "I expected them, and I wanted them. I congratulated myself on your having no one to leave them with."
"Aunt Di took them in charge," replied Pemberton. "They all love her so dearly and they were pleased to death to get rid of us."
"Now Pem!" put in Alrina, always taking her husband's funny sayings literally, or rather, sayings that were meant to be funny. "Mattie and Pembie felt badly I'm sure, and as for Burnie, he cried so we had to shame him before them all. Yes, ma, we shamed him before Di's beau, the Professor, and other friends gathered to see us off."
"The more shame for you!" These words burned on Mrs. Ormsby's lips as well as in her heart, yet no, she would not give them utterance. This home-coming, especially this drive through willowy ways where clover breaths blew and an insect choir piped, should have nothing to mar its innocent joy. "Time enough,—time enough," reflected Mrs. Ormsby, and on the whole was glad that the elder children had not accompanied their parents. Their absence rendered a part she intended playing less difficult, and allowed a larger scope for her plans.
Alrina Lorton found the landscape's features altered as well as the faces of those whom she knew in early life. The place was putting on town-bred airs. Bran new dwellings, reared with the grotesqueness of the latest architectural craze, attitudinalized on sites where in childhood she had linked dandelion chains and chased the glittering-winged butterfly.
In addition to this there were new acquaintances her mother and sisters had formed, as well as the old friends she remembered so well and loved so dearly, anxious to be introduced, or "dying" to see her.
One of the former, occupying a house recently built adjoining the Ormsby grounds, came in the day after her arrival.
Mrs. Duvault was a very old lady, and patted Alrina's cheek caressingly as she clasped her hand in greeting.
"You resemble your father, my dear child," she said, surveying her with keen but kind eyes, "and I am sure you are as good."
"Good!" laughed Mrs. Ormsby derisively; "just wait till you see her in one of her tantrums."
Mrs. Lorton was painfully conscious of being given to tantrums, but how could her mother be so cruel as to expose her before this charming old lady whose good opinion she coveted.
"So this is your baby, is it?" said Gen. Duvault, entering at this moment and being duly introduced.
Poor Rina's heart was sore, her eyes full of tears; no wonder she hung her head under the old soldier's gaze.
"Did you ever in all your life see stronger proofs of temper?" exclaimed Mrs. Ormsby. "Alrina, if you don't learn to behave better, I'll find out a way to make you."
"I—I must see after the baby," gasped Rina, between a sob and a groan, making at the same time a tear-blinded rush for the door.
"You must do no such thing," replied Mrs. Ormsby sternly. "Bridget has him. She knows how to take care of children. You're to stay where you are. You're not to disgrace me further by rushing from the room in that unseemly manner."
Mrs. Lorton remained, but the pleasure she expected to derive from the society of this delightful couple gave way to torturing pain.
Recollections of past tenderness only rendered her agony more acute. It was formerly a point with Mrs. Ormsby never to expose her children's faults, even in the retirement of the family circle. She rarely inflicted punishment, invariably admonished in private, and, so far as she was able, treated her husband and her girls as courteously as she treated her guests.
Alrina Lorton wondered over this change in a mother still too young to have become childish. She wondered more and more as the days ran by.
Mrs. Ormsby and her widow daughter, Mrs. Sixty, kept open house, and in the crowds coming and going Alrina escaped censure; but in the presence of those whom the mother held in highest esteem, and whose good opinion she herself coveted, she was continually in disgrace. If dress, manner, conversation escaped criticism, the sins of the past rose up to confront her. True, those in whose society she was especially humiliated, never noticed directly any attack upon her, yet they beamed delightedly on her mother, as if earth did not contain her counterpart.
Nor did Mr. Lorton escape, although Mrs. Ormsby was not, as he termed it, "as hard after" him, as after Rina. Apart from the respect and esteem in which he held his mother-in-law, there were excellent reasons for—quoting him again—"not raising a rumpus." Still, such a state of affairs was far from agreeable.
One day, three weeks after their arrival, Mrs. Ormsby surprised her daughter in a torrent of tears.
After being treated with unusual severity, that too in the presence of her mother's revered pastor, she sought refuge in her own apartment where her tortured heart found relief in a very storm of sobs, a perfect deluge of weeping.
"What's the matter?"
In answer to this cool, calm inquiry from her mother's lips, Mrs. Lorton raised her head.
"Need you ask?" she replied, something of her father's masterful spirit flashing from her tear-drenched eyes. "Can you ask—you, who ever since my arrival have done all in your power to mortify me in the presence of those whose good opinion I value—you, who to-day turned my holiest feelings into ridicule, and burlesqued the natural impulses of my being—you frigidly ask, 'What's the matter?'"
"Are you my daughter, or not?" inquired Mrs. Ormsby haughtily.
Having borne in silence until she could bear no more, Mrs. Lorton, acknowledging the relationship, denied this stern parent's right to make life a burden.
"Do you mean to tell your mother she has no right to exercise authority in the correction of her children's faults?" returned Mrs. Ormsby even more severely than before.
"You must remember I am no longer a child," replied her daughter. "I am a married woman."
"Granted," returned Mrs. Ormsby; "but since I sustain the same relationship I did in your infancy, and since, although you have matured, I have matured doubly, it is my right, my burden duty to endeavor to correct your faults. Do you deny that right? Do you defy me?"
During this conversation poor Mrs. Lorton's cheeks had burned and iced by turns, her lovely eyes flashed and besought alternately; now, while she answered, they were blue as a storm-cloud in which lightnings sleep.
"It is not my desire to rebel against your authority, mother, but I do most emphatically deny your right to drag my faults to the light, to bring me to shame and confusion of face before your guests."
Here the dear woman broke down completely. She was after all only a chidden child, hiding her wet face upon the couch on which her baby slept.
"Alrina!"
There was a pressure of arms around her neck, and other tears beside her own on her cheeks.
"Mother!"
"Softly! Don't cry any more, you'll waken baby. Besides, I've a confession to make. Be quiet and listen."
Martha Washington Ormsby had acted her part and acted well, what a relief to know the time had arrived in which to lay it aside and forever.237Referring to a subject they had discussed during her visit west and so disagreed upon it that it was deemed expedient to drop it, Mrs. Ormsby said:—
"My dear girl, I have treated you precisely as you treat your children. Such measure as you mete them has been meted you. You accused me of turning your holiest feelings into ridicule and burlesquing the natural impulses of your being. You have also denied a mother's right to drag her children's faults to the light and bring them to shame and confusion of face before her guests. Yet you, Alrina, pursue the same course with the little ones God has given you. Nor is Pemberton less guilty. Even at the moment of separation, you planted thorns in one tiny breast that may rankle there for years. My child, the ordeal has been a trying one, but in no other way could you be enabled to see your error, and endeavor, God helping you, to correct it."
Mrs. Ormsby spoke gently, sadly, going on to tell how often she had found Mattie, Alrina's sweet young daughter, weeping as bitterly as she had wept that day, and how Pemberton, noble, sensitive boy, was afraid to enter the room, or to eat at the table where there were guests, because of her unjust, fault-finding disposition.
A west wind blowing, a dip of fruity boughs on the window-ledge, bird songs thrilling in the distance, near garden scents wandering into the room, mother and daughter in each others arms. Martha Washington Ormsby had gained her case.—Arthur's Home Magazine.
A SUMMER IDYL.
By Kate Lawrence
A bird's nest hid in the clover—
Daintily woven, soft and warm—
The timothy grass, bending tenderly over,
Watches by turns with the little house-mother,
Keeping it safe from harm.
A home-nest under the willow,
Warmed and lighted by mother love;
Two golden heads on a downy pillow;
One father sails o'er the raging billow,
One looketh down from above.
God pity the little hen-sparrow,
Who waiteth in vain for her mate!
Why did he not stay the pitiless arrow?
Oh! the heavens were wide and the mark was narrow;
Careth God for a sparrow's fate?
Careth he for a soul's deep anguish,
Though the woman's heart, like the sparrow's, bleed?
Though the weeds of woe the widow weareth,
And her babes on an aching bosom beareth,
Careth he for the heart's sore need?
God careth; we know that he careth
As though voice should speak from the heaven above;
"Though he sleep beneath the foaming billow,
'Mid tangled sea-moss, on coral pillow,
He liveth still in my heart of love!"
—Kate Lawrence, in Christian at Work.
How a Chinese Boy Goes to School.
By A. F. Martin
A CHINESE home is not a hot-bed for the development of mind. Nature is left to take her own time, and the child vegetates until he completes his seventh or eighth year.
The almanac is then consulted, and a lucky day chosen for inducting the lad into a life of study. Clad in festal robe, and tasseled cap, and looking a mandarin in small, he sets out for the village school, his face beaming with the happy assurance that all the stars are shedding kindly influence, and his friends predicting that he will end his career in the Imperial Academy. On entering the room he performs two acts of worship; the first is to prostrate himself before a picture of the Great Sage, who is venerated as the fountain of wisdom, but is not supposed to exercise over his votaries anything like tutelar supervision. The second is to salute with the same forms, and almost equal reverence, the teacher who is to guide his inexperienced feet in the pathway to knowledge. In no country is the office of teacher more revered. Not only is the living instructor saluted with forms of profoundest respect, but the very name of teacher, taken in the abstract, is an object of almost idolatrous homage. On certain occasions it is inscribed on a tablet in connection with the characters for heaven, earth, prince, and parents, generally as one of the five chief objects of veneration, and worshiped with solemn rites. This is a relic of the primitive period, when books were few and the student dependent for everything on the oral teaching of his sapient master.—Rev. A. F. Martin.
How to Drive the Boys From the Farm.
If you wish to drive the boys from the farm, send them out to cut green wood at the back door, and tell them they must get up at five o'clock and make a fire from it. Send them out to milk by lantern-light, in the dead of winter, when the cold winds are blowing through the cracks of the barn. Have them drive the cattle to water and be obliged to chop a hole in the ice in order to let them drink. Let them carry water the year round up hill from a spring. Have them turn the grindstone for hours. Send them out to pull wool from the carcass of a sheep, when they have to hold the nose with one hand and pull with the other. Make them do all the drudgery and disagreeable work found to be done on the farm, giving the pleasant work to the hired man. Tell them there is no time for fishing or hunting. And when you have come to your meals, when everything should be pleasant, and you should wear a smile on your face, cry out and say: "We are going to have a drouth, and we will have to go to the poor house," and "The season is so wet that there will be a failure of crops, and I will not be able to pay my taxes." Fret and scold about everything that does not go just right. These and other things that could be mentioned, are driving the boys from the farm.—Louisville Farm and Fireside.
HISTORY OF THE WALDENSES.
By J. A. Wylie
BY J. A. WYLIE, LL.D.
ILLUSTRATED BY TWENTY FULL-PAGE ENGRAVINGS.
THIS work describes the conflicts waged by the Waldenses, and the martyrdoms they endured in defense of their faith and their liberty. Recent events have brought the Waldenses to notice, and thrown a new light upon the grandeur of their struggle and the important issues which have flamed from it. To them are we to trace the Constitutional liberties that Italy now enjoys. In their mountain fastnesses they maintained the faith of the early Christians, and by their untiring missionary labors this faith was diffused to all the nations of Europe, thus preparing the way for the great Reformation.
212 pp. Price, 90 cts.
Address, SIGNS OF THE TIMES, Oakland, Cal.
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION.
By J. H. Merle D'Aubigne
By J. H. Merle D'Aubigne.
This book is indeed a standard in evangelical literature, and is so well and favorably known as to need no description; it is the most complete and impartial history of the Reformation extant; and certainly no one should need to be urged to seek all the information possible concerning the history of one of the greatest revolutions ever effected in human affairs.
Bound in cloth, 5 vols. in one...........................$1.50
THIS is a full exposition of a portion of prophecy which applies to our own Government, showing the position the United States holds in prophecy, and the part it has to act in the closing scenes of time.
THE SUNDAY MOVEMENT,
Which is now attracting such general attention, is thoroughly canvassed, and abundant testimony is given to prove that it is fast coming to be the ALL-IMPORTANT QUESTION in this country. Dealing with our own land and applying to our own time. Of surpassing interest to every American reader New edition; revised and enlarged. Cloth, 225 pp., 75cts. Paper covers, new edition, condensed, 186 pp., 25cts.
Address, SIGNS OF THE TIMES, Oakland, Cal.
BIBLE SANCTIFICATION:
A CONTRAST OF
TRUE AND FALSE THEORIES.
BY MRS. E. G. WHITE.
This is a pamphlet of only 84 pages, but its value is not to be judged by its size. It is just what its title indicates: a faithful presentation of Bible truth on this important subject, and an exposure of the false theories prevailing in regard to it. Every believer in Bible truth should read it. Buy it, read it, and lend it to your neighbor. Price, 10 cents.
Address, SIGNS OF THE TIMES, Oakland, Cal.
THE MINISTRATION OF ANGELS.
By Dudley Marvin Canright
By Eld. D. M. Canright.
Also giving an exposition of the origin, history, and destiny of Satan. 144 pp. Price, 20 cents.
Address, SIGNS OF THE TIMES, Oakland, Cal.
SOUTH LANCASTER ACADEMY.
This school is located in the village of South Lancaster, Mass., on the Worcester and Nashua Railroad, about sixteen miles from Worcester and thirty from Boston.
It is conducted upon the most approved method of teaching, the aim of the managers being to combine the practical with the theoretical in such a manner that each student in going to the school shall be prepared for some position of usefulness.
Successful preachers, colporters, teachers, and canvassers have already entered the field from this school and, at the present time, are laboring in at least eight of the Eastern States.
Students are instructed in four useful trades, and preparation are making to connect still other industries with the school.
Those wishing to attend this school or to place their children here, can depend upon their physical, mental, and spiritual interests being well cared for.
A specialty is made of the Bible, Language, and missionary work; the instruction in these branches being adapted to men and women of mature years.
Eld. S. N. Haskell, President,
Eld. D. A. Robinson, Secretary.
Those students wishing to attend the school please address,
Prof. G. H. Bell.
Faithfulness in Great and Small Things
By James Freeman Clarke
The only way to be faithful in anything is to be faithful in everything. The only way to be faithful in great things is to be faithful in small things. When I was in college I engaged a countryman to bring me a load of wood in November at a certain price. November came, and the price of wood had raised. But on the appointed day my man arrived. I congratulated him on his punctuality. "Yes," he said, "I could have received two dollars more for my wood at home. But I had promised to bring it to you, and so I said I shall be a poor sort of a fellow if my word is not worth two dollars."—James Freeman Clarke.
Aim for the Highest Prize
Aim for the highest prize—a golden crown and a harp, with eternal life.
When Young People Learn Wisdom
Thus talks an old farmer about his boys. "From 16 to 18 they knew more than I did; at 25 they knew as much; at 30 they were willing to hear what I had to say; at 35 they asked my advice; and I think when they get to be 40 they will actually acknowledge that the old man does know something." With this agrees the old adage, "Young folks think old ones are fools, but old folks know young ones to be so."
Good and Bad Apples.
ONE day Robert's father saw him playing with some boys who were rude and boisterous. He had observed for some time a change for the worse in his son, and now he knew the cause. He was very sorry, but he said nothing to Robert at the time. In the evening he brought from the garden six beautiful, rosy-cheeked apples, put them on a plate, and presented them to Robert, who was much pleased at his father's kindness and thanked him. "You must lay them aside a few days, that they may become mellow," said the father. And Robert cheerfully placed the plate with the apples in his mother's store-room.
Just as he was putting them aside, his father laid on the plate a seventh apple, which was quite decayed, and desired him to let it remain there.
"But, father," said Robert, "the decayed apples will spoil all the others."
"Do you think so? Why should not the fresh apples rather make the bad ones fresh?" And with these words he shut the door of the room.
Eight days afterward he asked his son to open the door of the room, and take out the apples. But what a sight presented itself! The six apples which had been so sound and good spread a bad smell through the room.
"O, papa!" cried he, "did I not tell you that the decayed apple would spoil the good ones?"
"My boy," said his father, "have I not told you often that the company of bad children will make you bad? yet you do not listen to me. I want you to learn a lesson from these apples. If you keep company with wicked boys, you will soon be like them."
Robert did not forget the lesson. When any of his former playfellows asked him to join in their sports, he thought of the decayed apples, and prayed to be kept from evil.