Among the alarming signs of our time there is one which, above all, seems to give concern to friends of public morality and Christianity. It is the growing neglect and desecration of the Sabbath. This indeed is a significant omen, for there is perhaps no religious institution more important, more ancient, and which has left deeper traces upon society.
At the dawn of history, in the very beginning of the world, we see this remarkable institution coming into existence. The Almighty Himself rested upon the seventh day of the first week of time. From henceforth this day became a monument, a memorial of the miraculous origin of man, the guardian of true worship, and the best bulwark against idolatry and atheism.
Alas! man forgot his Creator by forgetting His day of rest. But he could destroy the vestiges of neither. The weekly cycle remained, and the very name of the rest day was preserved in many oriental languages spoken since the days of Abraham and Noah, more than four thousand years ago,—a solemn tho unspoken protest against the neglect of the Creator's rest-day, and a testimony in favor of true worship among the nations of the ancient world.
At the foot of Sinai the people of God received from Jehovah the Ten Commandments of the law, the fourth precept of which says: “Remember the Sabbath [rest] day to keep it holy. Six days shalt thou labor, and do all thy work; but the seventh day is the Sabbath [rest] of the Lord thy God.”
From that time on the Sabbath was nevermore to entirely disappear from the earth. Over and over again Israel defaced the monument of creation; but each time the earnest pleadings of the prophets and chastisements of God brought back its observation; indeed the cause of the Babylonian captivity was neglect of the Sabbath. Jer. 17:19–27. After the return from captivity, the people of God changed their attitude toward the Sabbath; from indifference they went over into superstition, and an elaborate code of childish traditions and observances was drawn up and enforced by the rabbis.
When Jesus came, He maintained the true significance of the Sabbath, healing the sick and otherwise doing good on that day. Condemned by the bigoted Pharisees, He asked them why they lifted their sheep from the pit on the Sabbath day if it was forbidden on that day to do good and to heal the sick.
The apostolic church faithfully observed the day of rest in the way taught by Christ. This is proved beyond any doubt by the fact that neither the Jews nor the Jewish Christians ever found any fault on this subject against the rising church, while the doing away of the ceremonial law aroused such long and heated controversies. See Acts 15; Gal. 2:4.
When we leave the Acts of the Apostles to enter upon the ground of secular history, we are brought face to face with a perplexing problem; we find the rest-day changed from the seventh to the first day of the week—from Saturday to Sunday. In the presence of the complete silence of the New Testament on this subject, theologians have divided themselves into two classes,—some claim to find in the Gospels and in the epistles traces of this transfer; others lay it at the door of the early church, and place it among human traditions.
With the fourth century we enter upon the era of the Sunday laws. The first one was that of Constantine, published A. D. 321. In this law Sunday is called the “venerable day of the sun.” This law was a compromise between the sun-worshipers on the one hand, and Christians on the other; pagans furnished the day, and Christians supplied the idea of rest.
The union of church and state once started, Sunday laws followed each other in quick succession; the middle ages and even modern times are full of them. In Spain, in France, in England, and in the United States, during colonial days, governments and clergy united in framing and enforcing innumerable regulations about Sunday. Many Sabbatarians were sacrificed, in Catholic and Protestant countries as well, for not keeping Sunday. For centuries the right of the state to enforce the religious practices of the national church, and to punish dissenters, remained without appeal.
At the dawn of the nineteenth century the scene changes; a powerful movement against union of church and state takes place. At the head of this movement were the United States. The interference of the civil power in the affairs of conscience was denounced. The union of church and state was, to a great extent, ignored; by the national government it was formally rejected. Civil penalties for Sunday-keeping became, for the most, a dead letter. This movement spread through all Europe. In its constitution of 1831, Belgium declared that the state has no right to say which is the day of rest, or in what manner it is to be observed. The French Government recalled its Sunday law of 1814. In a word the enforcement of Sunday laws came to a standstill, which condition lasted more than half a century.
But a change was soon to take place. In the presence of the great problems which are facing society at the present time, especially the increase of practical infidelity, the ideas of democracy have seemed to lose their hold on many minds. The old theocratic system has regained much of its lost favor, and now leading men are considering the Sunday law as the panacea which alone can bring about the revival of the Christian faith and the salvation of society. Hence the organization in the United States, and in almost all the countries of Europe, of the Sunday crusade, which is, perhaps, the most important of all the great so-called philanthropic movements of the present time. This movement has succeeded in securing new Sunday laws, not only in several states of the Union, but in Switzerland and in Germany. Sunday bills are pending in the Parliaments of France, Belgium, Holland, and the Australian colonies. The movement is also at work in England, Denmark, Norway, Wales, Austria, Bulgaria, Rumania, and even in Japan.
CHRISTIANIZING BY DECREE.
It was by edict that Christianity was established in the palace of the Cæsars by Constantine, A. D. 325. Now there is an indication that history may repeat itself. On Sunday of last week a great meeting was held in Tokio to consider the question of founding in Japan a Japanese Christian Church.
Commenting on this meeting, the Tokio correspondent of the London Telegraph says:—
Leading men consider that the time has arrived to adopt the elements (religion) approved by a majority of civilized nations. An edict establishing a national church is not improbable.
This serves to recall a chapter of Japanese history. A number of years ago, when the ruling classes of Japan were looking to other nations for their inspiration, the Mikado and his advisers consulted a foreign official in the diplomatic service of his country upon the question of a state religion for Japan. He was asked whether, if the Mikado should proclaim Christianity the religion of the state, and should order his subjects to embrace it, this action would help in securing recognition for Japan among civilized nations. The question of so Christianizing Japan, it was said, was under serious consideration. The argument, in brief, was that as it had been shown that occidental firearms and machinery were better than oriental; this created an inference in favor of the occidental religion. The main point, however, insisted upon was, that Japan, by becoming Christian, would remove by one stroke prejudice against her and at once be conceded a place in the family of the most enlightened peoples.
Whether or not the case of Constantine was recalled, is not stated. But what is known is that our diplomat was not ignorant of that chapter in history, and that he knew that the Franks and other Teutonic tribes, at the command of chiefs, had received Christianity en masse, and Charlemagne had baptized the Saxons after whipping them in war. All the same, the subject seems to have taken him by surprise. Of course, an intelligent Christian himself, he did not hesitate for an answer. He told his inquirers that the Japanese do not seem to understand the spirit of modern Christianity, and expressed doubt as to whether a wholesale conversion, such as was suggested, would have the effect sought. So the Japanese9statesmen determined that their country, at least until a more opportune time, should remain pagan. Sunday's Tokio meeting would seem to imply that it is now thought the opportune time has arrived.
It has been remarked by travelers visiting Japan and enjoying intercourse with its people, that the Japanese Kingdom is non-religious rather than irreligious. That is, the Japanese are devoted to the worship of their ancestors, and they respect the teachings of Buddha. This condition of affairs has produced a feeling of content among the Japanese, which has proved a strong obstacle to the work of Christian missionaries, altho they have won splendid success in spite of popular indifference. Doubtless the people would accept and yield obedience to the edict if it were issued. But what sort of a religion such a state religion would be, the reader can best judge for himself.—Christian Work.
And “the reader” who knows anything of the spirit of “political religion,” and of its effect when carried to its logical conclusion, will be surprised at this further comment by the same paper, after the foregoing statement:—
“Still it would open the doors very wide to the missionaries; so that from a political religion they might come to see the spiritual side, and recognizing that, and to acknowledge its power to change the heart and life. In such a contingency only missionaries possessing some spiritual gifts could make headway. All of which illustrates the fact that tact and rare good judgment are as essential as eloquence and great mental gifts, to induce a people to become Christians. And what is this but a return to St. Paul's method, who became all things to all men that he might win souls for Christ?”
Well, it is a long way from “a return to St. Paul’s method.” Paul was not talking politics nor political religion when he said, “I am become all things to all men, that I may by all means save some.” He foresaw that when he became a Christian. He had renounced all class association, and was following in the footsteps of his cosmopolitan Master. He never sought any one to make a heartless profession as a stepping-stone to a true confession of Christ. A change of heart does not come in that way. The hope of worldly gain or political advantage never did and never can bring a soul to Christ.
PLEASURE AND PERIL
We quote the following excerpt from the San Francisco Chronicle's editorial columns, as indicative of a growing spirit of animosity in the poor toward the rich, and a spirit of arrogant carelessness on the part of some of the rich toward the necessities and rights of the poor. It is the latter that is in a great measure responsible for the former; and we may certainly expect an increase in both, forboding a clash between the classes as the fruits of industry are gathered in and heaped up by the few.
The inhabitants of the tenement districts of New York are resenting the invasion of their quarters by automobilists by acts of violence. Several automobilists have been assaulted by roughs, while driving their vehicles through the streets of the east side of the city, and a strong determination is evinced by the residents to keep the horseless vehicle out.
In some respects the opposition of the tenement dwellers to the use of their streets by automobilists is justifiable. Those thoroughfares are narrow and congested. The open street is the only playground the children of the tenements possess. The speeding of automobiles through these congested streets puts the lives of the children in jeopardy. In defense of their offspring, therefore, the occupants of the district resent the intrusion of these machines. The police commissioners confess their inability to prevent it. They evidently recognize the conditions as they actually exist, and probably sympathize with the aggressors. Doubtless nothing but idle curiosity leads automobilists to drive their machines through these crowded streets. Even that might have been tolerated if prudence had been exercised in speeding the machines while passing through them. But the insane disposition of the automobilists to drive along at a rapid pace can not apparently be restrained in a crowded thoroughfare any more than it can when a clear right of way is in sight. Examples of that are in evidence daily in San Francisco, as well as in New York and other cities.
Sooner or later popular demonstrations like those occurring in New York will surely be made against automobilists intruding upon the more congested thoroughfares of other cities, if they persist in the indiscretion of rushing headlong at unreasonable rates of speed, regardless of the safety of the lives and limbs of others who are occupying them. Local regulations affecting speed are not respected. The temptation seems to be ever present in the mind of the chauffeur to move faster than prudence suggests, or the law allows. The spirit of self-restraint must be cultivated, however, or else a machine which, when properly operated, is useful and unobjectionable, will be brought into popular disrepute in all the larger cities of the country. Then experiences quite as unpleasant as those which New York automobilists are having will become common in all of them.
THE WAR IN THE ORIENT.
After the great Japanese victory at Kinchou and Nan Shan hill, the Japanese pressed their columns steadily on toward Dalney and Port Arthur. The Russians evacuated Dalney hurriedly, after destroying some of their boats, warehouses, and railroad material, and retreated to Port Arthur. One of their largest docks at Dalney was rendered useless, but a great amount of property of value to the Japanese was abandoned. The Japanese are now in complete possession of this port which was built entirely by the Russians at an outlay of several million dollars.
The Japanese have landed large siege guns, which are being planted on heights in the vicinity of Port Arthur, and have brought their troops up to within striking distance of that place. It is said that an additional army of 25,000 men has been landed in this vicinity to take part in the capture of the stronghold. The Japanese are expected to begin the attack in a very few days. They know that the fortresses can not be taken without the loss of a great many men, and they are planning accordingly to have plenty of men there to lose.
The Russian Government is manifesting much impatience with the defensive plans of their general-in-chief, and he is being urged so strongly to take the offensive that it is said he is now moving a part of his army south to attack the Japanese in the rear. It is known, however, that between General Kuropatkin’s army and the Japanese army that is attacking Port Arthur there is another large Japanese army which will be able to hold him in check. Many consider that the fall of the Russian stronghold will be a vital blow to Russia, and will end the war. There is much skirmishing and many small encounters between the outposts of the two armies.
CHANGED POLICY TOWARD THE ROMAN CHURCH.
“Extremely curious and interesting,” says the New York Independent, “is the contrast just shown between France and Germany in their treatment of the Roman Catholic Church. Catholic France, eldest daughter of the church, is driving the religious orders out of the country as relentlessly as the Philippines expelled the Spanish friars, and forbids them to carry on their schools. The president of this Catholic republic goes to Rome and can not pay a visit of ceremony to the pope. But the emperor of Germany, when he goes to visit the king of Italy, pays a visit of extreme courtesy to the pope, and is most politely received. He goes back to Berlin, and one by one has the Falk laws against the Catholic Church repealed, until now there is nothing left of them. The Jesuits are welcomed back, and the Emperor William quite enjoys his trip to Canossa. So now the three happiest countries for the Catholic religion, the three where it has the greatest liberty, are Germany, Great Britain, and the United States, three predominantly Protestant countries, while the three countries in which the Catholic Church feels itself the most under unwelcome restraint are Italy, France and Spain, three Catholic countries. Here is a chance for students of freedom of religious thought to draw a lesson.”
CONTROLLING THE INDUSTRIES.
A DESPATCH from the East states that “the Standard Oil Company has a scheme on foot to control every commodity of the country. It is stated that the company has started in to gain control of the wholesale grocery business of Ohio, and that the movement is to expand . . . until the Standard Oil Company will dominate all the necessities of life in all the states of the union.” Whether this despatch is authentic or not, it is certainly in harmony with the spirit of the times. The control of industries is the science of modern finance; and the above scheme is the culminating aim of the money-hungry trust. It is also the end toward which the spirit of treasure-hoarding is driving this age, as faithfully pointed out in the Word of God.
The International Arbitration Conference in Session
The International Arbitration Conference in session at Mohonk Lake, N. Y., has “adopted a platform of principles which appeals to all persons to co-operate in diffusing such a righteous sentiment and feeling toward all classes and races that international arbitration will be resorted to as the best means for securing international justice whenever diplomacy falls.” The aim which the members of the conference have in view are worthy aims, and their work may result for a time in a slight diminution of the horrible work of war; but wars will not cease. Nations are as avaricious as men, for they are composed of men—ambitious men. Then, too, the Word of God gives us no warrant for believing that peace will come to this earth before the coming of the Son of Man.
Three nations, the United States, England, and France, are interesting themselves in the case of two men who have been kidnapped by a company of Morocco bandits. One of the captured men was an American citizen, and the other a citizen of Great Britain, and the United States has asked France to use its good offices in securing the release of the captives, as France is recognized as having a strong influence in the affairs of Morocco. A squadron of American and British war-vessels is now lying in the Bay of Tangier; but it is realized that they can do little toward effecting the release of the captives, who are hidden and closely guarded by the bandits.
A terrible explosion occurred in the great whisky warehouse at Peoria, Ill., on June 4, which wrecked the building, and set on fire other structures near by, entailing a loss of $1,000,000. The stored whisky burned furiously, and the contents of the exploding barrels ran in great streams to the river. Ten men were caught in the debris of the building, and burned to death. A stockyard full of cattle was invaded by the burning whisky, and hundreds of them were burned to death. So goes death and ruin with the whisky fiend in whatever form it comes forth to operate.
Antagonism toward the Catholic Church manifests itself at very frequent intervals in different parts of France. Some Catholic children at Toulon had been singing anti-clerical songs, and when it came time for these to be received into the communion of the church against whose work they had been singing, the priests refused to confirm them. Thereupon a mob of about a thousand persons attacked the church of St. Jean, wrecked the pulpit, and overturned the statues. The mob was finally dispersed by the police.
Shells used by the Japanese are said to be charged with a new and powerful explosive compound which does terrible execution in the ranks of the enemy. The havoc caused on the two Russian war-ships sunk at Chemulpo is said to have been due to these deadly shells. The explosive is so powerful that it breaks the shell into thousands of fragments which sow death in every direction. It was doubtless these shells that put the Russian batteries out of action on Nan Shan hill, and made it possible for the Japanese to carry the Russian fortifications.
There is some anxiety in British Government circles over the expedition which has been pressing toward the capital of Tibet. Colonel Younghusband’s little army of 1,500 men is surrounded by about 20,000 of the Tibetans. Re-enforcements are being hurried over difficult trails to his relief.
King Edward’s activity in the realm of international politics is causing some anxiety in the British Foreign Office. The king will soon visit Emperor William, and the officials fear that some entanglements may arise as a result of the meeting. A member of the cabinet will accompany the king.
Negotiations are said to have been completed between the British Government and China for the sending of about a half million of Chinese coolies to the diamond and gold mines of South Africa. The conditions under which these men will work are said to be but little better than slavery.
Hostilities are reported to have ceased in San Domingo, and some sort of a peace is being patched up between the warring factions. Representatives of the two parties are now on board an American war-ship drawing up their agreement.
The Netherlands troops have captured a garrison of Achinese at Tampering, Sumatra. The Dutch losses were 33 killed and wounded, and of the Achinese 76.
A tornado swept over a large area of Oklahoma on June 4, demolishing or damaging hundreds of houses, and causing some loss of life.
In a collision on the Missouri Pacific, near Martin City, Kansas, on June 3, nine persons are reported killed and a larger number injured.
THE HEIGHTS AND THE VALLEY.
By Zula Myer Simpson
BY ZULA MYER SIMPSON.
It had been a dark, cloudy day, but a bright little sunbeam, which had been loitering about the window for some time, was at last joined by ever so many more sunbeams, and together they stole softly into the room, chasing away the shadows, and brightening the dark corners.
The room was a very pleasant apartment; it was, it is true, somewhat small, and very simply furnished, but was most cozy and inviting, with its neat matting, windows draped with snow-white curtains, a few chairs and pretty pictures, and a piano.
A tall girl, who had apparently been studying a picture on the opposite wall, turned, upon the entrance of the sunbeams, and the frown which had been gathering on her brow as she listened to her companion’s words, was dispelled as were the shadows.
“Going home! You do not mean it! Impossible!” The tone expressed surprise and incredulity, and she was gazing at her friend with such an expression of amazement and dismay that she laughed outright.
“Why, Madge, one would suppose from your expression that I contemplated going to Siberia, or some other remote part of the world, instead of ‘Home, Sweet Home.’ Do smile, now don’t look at me like that.” Her voice was cheery, but betrayed an effort to make it so.
“But you do not mean it, Marguerite; say you do not!” the words were spoken very gently.
“Yes, but I do mean it, ‘entirely and altogether.’ My mind is quite made up this time. I have decided to go back to Valley View.”
“Why did you not speak of it before? You have surely made up your mind very suddenly,” said Madge, somewhat reproachfully.
“No, I have been thinking of it for some time, but did not decide until to-day. Please forgive me, Madge, for not speaking of it before. I knew it would be harder for me to decide if you knew. I wish to put self (Marguerite Anderson) far in the background, and you know, dear, you would have insisted upon bringing her into the foreground continually. It was hard enough to keep her back as it was, without your influence upon her. Then I felt I could not talk of it, least of all to you. Come here, and let me tell you all about it; then my dear, good girl will help me, I know,” and she held out her hand with an appealing gesture that brought her to her side in an instant.
Now, I doubt not that my readers are curious to know something more of our young friends, and since I think this a laudable curiosity, I shall hasten to gratify it.
Marguerite Anderson is below medium height, but11slender, and possesses a certain queenly manner. Something in her graceful movements and the poise of her shapely head gives to her an appearance of dignity not often seen in one so small of stature.
Her face is fair, and impresses you at first as being too calm, colorless, and expressionless; but that is before you have noticed her eyes, which are large and expressive, and of a peculiar shade sometimes of blue, often gray, and at other times hazel. Her hair is light brown, with many a gleam of sunshine among the soft locks.
Her companion, Madeline Cattron, or Madge, as her friends call her, is taller, not so graceful, and has not the queenly way which is a characteristic of her friend.
She has a bright, vivacious face—a face which one loves, and wishes to see again. Her eyes are large and dark; her hair is dark and abundant, and drawn straight back from a high forehead, and her face lacks a rounded contour. It is a face which expresses strong feelings, with a great degree of pride and ambition. Marguerite Anderson has been in the city for nearly two years, studying music under one of the best instructors there; while Madeline Cattron has been studying art in the School of Design.
They have studied and worked with an untiring energy, each finding her greatest pleasure in her chosen vocation, content to make any sacrifice to insure success in the beloved art.
Yet Marguerite has now told her friend that she is going to leave her work, and return to her country home.
Madge is at first incredulous, then, as she reads the determination upon her friend’s resolute face, she determines, if possible, to prevent it; and, seating herself by Marguerite, she says: “There, there, there, tell me all about it. I can not understand it. Have you soon forgotten our motto, ‘Never turn back’? You have been so hopeful all along, and not at all inclined to become discouraged. Why, it has been you who have carried the banner ‘Excelsior’ to us so far,” and Madge gave her companion a bright smile.
Marguerite did not reply at once, but after a few moments began slowly, “It is not my work, Madge. I am not discouraged about my music; for I love it, and believe that I could succeed, for I am ready to sacrifice, and do the hardest of work in order to do it. My Professor has given me great encouragement. He says I can not fail to succeed if I persevere. He thinks it is a gift which God has given me, and that it will be a sin if I fail to cultivate the talent which is one of the greatest blessings He gives to His children. You know how dearly I love my music, Madge; still I do not think I have been actuated, in my desire to study music, by selfishness alone, for I have never thought of the future without thinking that perhaps I should be able to brighten this sad old world of sorrow and sin, and make it happier and better.”
There was a break in the sweet voice, but she continued thoughtfully, “I suppose there has been much of selfishness, too, about it all, for, altho I have not worked and longed for fame alone, I have worked because I loved music, and wished to arrive at the highest degree of excellence, not simply from a desire to excel, but because, loving it as I do, I can not be satisfied with a smattering of it. But I have thought, after all, of my own desire altogether, so it has been but selfishness.”
“Marguerite, surely it can not be selfishness for you to wish to succeed with your work! Should one be satisfied with poor work? Think of the stuff which people listen to, and call music, and of the daubs which they call art!” replied Madge, somewhat impatiently.
“No, I do not think that one should be satisfied with poor work. We should do with our might what our hands find to do,” replied Marguerite. “But, dear, we must not forget that ‘One is our Master, even Christ.’ We must be very sure that, as His servants, we are doing just the work He would have us do, in the place He would put us, and that we have the right motive in doing this work. Do you not believe that many a life which the multitude pronounces a failure, is, in the eyes of One, a grand success, while many lives which are great, as the world counts greatness, are but miserable failures, after all?”
Madge did not reply, and, after a brief silence, Marguerite continued in a low tone, “You know that we talked of the ‘Heights and the Valley,’ Madge. We were in the valley in our quiet homes, but we felt an unrest, and an intense longing for the heights above us; so we left the valley, and began our journey. We said we would never turn back, but would reach those heights, no matter what they cost us of toil and privation. As I look back upon the past two years, it seems to me that I have made all things, and, O Madge, I have made all people, even, subservient to my ambition!” and there was a sob in her voice as she concluded.
“There, I had my suspicions that you were working too hard, and now I know it. You have been working too hard, and thinking too much, and have brought on a bad case of the blues. You are homesick, Margie girl, wait until the home letter comes, and you will see things quite differently. Why, it would be a great disappointment to them to have you give up and come home now. Have you not thought of that?” asked Madge.
“The home letter did come, Madge, and it did, indeed, help me to see things ‘quite differently,’” said Marguerite, without replying to Madge’s question. “I have not been working too hard, and I do not know that I have been thinking too much, either, only that my thoughts have taken a different direction. I do not think I have been exactly homesick, but the voices from the valley have been calling, and at last my better self has heard them. I have heard them again and again, and as they pleaded, the luring voices seemed to call me by strains of sweetest music on to the heights. You do not know what a conflict it has proven!”
“Mother wrote some time ago that the doctor gave them but little encouragement about Earnest’s condition. She kept it from me until I wrote to reproach him for his short notes to me; then she wrote that—but there—I will read you what she says about it, then you will understand.”
She quickly finds the letter, and reads: “Dear Daughter: You do not know the pleasure your letters are to us. We look forward to them from one letter to the next. Earnest watches for them with the eagerness of a child. Marguerite, it hurt him so for you to think him neglectful of you. His silence has not been caused by carelessness, nor has it been because of his work, for he is not strong enough to work now. His failing health made that impossible some time ago. We thought at first that he was only worn out, and that a rest would be all he needed, but it has proven more serious than we thought. He has made a heroic struggle against it, but it has been of no avail. Dr. Clarke does not say much, but seems anxious. Earnest is brave and patient, and has repeatedly cautioned me against worrying you about it. He speaks of ‘sister’ each day, and is lonely without you; but he is so glad and thankful for your talent and the progress you have made, and would not hear of your giving up your music. You must try and write often to cheer him, Marguerite.” Here she folded the letter slowly, and the only sound to be heard in the room for several moments was the tick of the little clock upon the shelf.
Madge had turned to the window, and to all appearance was intently studying a church steeple in the distance.
At last Marguerite spoke. “Do you see it now as I do, Madge? Would you not do as I shall do?”
Without waiting for a reply, she continued, “I knew, when I came away, that mother needed me there. I knew that father was growing old and care-worn, and that he and Earnest were toiling early and late to pay the mortgage, and keep us comfortable. I knew that Earnest had given up his cherished plans of going to college, because of the mortgage and father’s need of him on the farm. But, O Madge, I did not dream that his strength would fail ’neath the burden, and he grow weaker and weaker—dying perhaps. O, my noble, unselfish brother! It was he who planned my coming here, and sacrificed that I might come! How could I be so selfish? How could they allow me to do it?” Here she buried her face in her hands, while the slight form shook with sobs.
Madge turned from the window at once, and came to her friend, trying to soothe her with caresses and loving words. Her own eyes were filled with tears, and her voice was tremulous as she said, “There, there, I can not allow you to speak so of my best friend. You are not selfish, and you must not say so to me. You know how glad they were to have you come. You could not rejoice in your success more than they; and by becoming a musician you will make them happier than you could in any other way. You know that, don’t you, Margie? You must not worry so. After a long rest your brother will be well again, and laugh at your fears. Of course, you must go home and visit them awhile, then I am sure they will send you back to your work with a determination to succeed for their dear sakes. But you haven’t any idea of how lonely I shall be without you!” So she rambled on until Marguerite had ceased sobbing, when she said: “I am going now to Bernstein’s to order a canvas, and you must come with me. You need a brisk walk in the open air, and I won’t go alone, so come now!” and she held out her hand to assist her to rise.
They were soon on their way; Madge chatting cheerily of the day in the studio, graphically describing the model who posed for them, and quoting the criticism as well as the commendation of the master. Marguerite said little, but Madge knew by the resolute mouth that she had reached her final decision, and she talked on with a smiling face, but a heavy heart. She loved her friend even more because of her decision, altho she felt a great longing to prevent the sacrifice of talent upon the altar of human love. She felt like crying out that it must not be—that the heavenly Father could not be pleased by such a sacrifice.