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Review and Herald, Vol. 93, No. 64.

My New Year's Resolve
Earlier text: Important Resolutions for the Churches

“One Fair Ideal”

By J. M. Hopkins

J. M. HOPKINS
IN a poem entitled “Lincoln, the Great Commoner,” Edwin Markham says:—
“And so he came From prairie cabin up to Capitol; One fair ideal led our chieftain on. Forevermore he burned to do his deed With the fine stroke and gesture of a king. He built the rail pile as he built the state, Pouring his splendid strength through every blow, The conscience of him testing every stroke To make his deed the measure of a man.”
What a splendid lesson! In building the “rail pile,” Lincoln put his conscience into every stroke. He determined to make his every deed “the measure of a man.”
In the light of this great man’s example, there is no work that is dishonorable, no service, however humble, that is degrading. Every duty has its glory, and every deed should receive the strictest attention. Whatever we do should be done to the very best of our ability. Nothing should be slighted. The one fair ideal should always be to do the very best in our power. Nothing short of this will make the measure of a man.
Booker T. Washington, in his autobiography, says that when paying his tuition at school by working as janitor, he so thoroughly dusted the furniture of the schoolroom that not until he could wipe the furniture with a white handkerchief and discover no soil upon it, was he satisfied. That was his “one fair ideal.” He made that deed “the measure of a man.”
That same principle of painstaking and thoroughness that characterized Lincoln and Washington, is worthy of us all. In each Christian endeavor let us have for our goal, for our ambition, the one fair ideal, Christ Jesus, “till we all come into the unity of the faith, and of the knowledge of the Son of God, unto a perfect man, unto the measure of the stature of the fulness of Christ.” Eph. 4:13.
Roseburg, Ore.

Israel's Watch

By Walter Carl Fisher

WALTER CARL FISHER
“He took them, and sent them over the brook, and sent over that he had. And Jacob was left alone; and there wrestled a man with him until the breaking of the day.” “And he said, Thy name shall be called no more Jacob, but Israel: for as a prince hast thou power with God and with men, and hast prevailed.” Gen. 32:23, 24, 28.
Jacob's name, which meant supplanter, a crafty and cunningly selfish person, was changed to Israel, a prevailer with God. Jacob may stand to us for all our selfish and earth-born interests.
How did Jacob receive the experience which was the greatest thing in his life, the experience which transformed him?
Jacob sent over the brook all that he had. He separated himself from all his worldly interests. Even his family was not permitted to stay with him.
Night had settled down over the mountains, and Jacob was left alone. He had reached a crisis in his life. He had humbled himself, and had made his confession to God. “O God of my father Abraham, . . . I am not worthy of the least of all the mercies, and of all the truth, which thou hast showed unto thy servant,” was the cry that went up from his heart.
There in the darkness alone he waited, and the angel of the Lord came to him. Then, as never before, Jacob must have felt man's insufficiency and weakness. His soul was tried to its depths. Through the long hours the struggle went on, until the breaking of the day. The victory was won. From that day forth he served God, not Jacob.
At this time, when the night of sin hangs heavy over the world, the children of God must individually have this very experience. Every one must wrestle for the victory over self. All narrow, self-loving, self-seeking, and worldly interests must be separated from the heart, and with strong crying and tears the victory must be won. It can come only through prayer. Until the breaking of the day of God, prayer must be the watchword of God's children.
The Lord Jesus, before leaving this world, gave sufficient instruction to guide us in these perilous times. His words were: “Take ye heed, watch and pray: for ye know not when the time is. For the Son of man is as a man taking a far journey, who left his house, and gave authority to his servants, and to every man his work, and commanded the porter to watch. Watch ye therefore: for ye know not when the master of the house cometh, at even, or at midnight, or at the cockcrowing, or in the morning: lest coming suddenly he find you sleeping.” Mark 14:33-36. Then followed words which never had the significance which they have today, and which are spoken to each child of God individually: “What I say unto you I say unto all, Watch.”

The First Fruits on Morea

By Mabel Howse

MRS. MABEL HOWSE
MOREA is a beautiful mountainous island lying about nine miles west of Papeite, Tahiti. It was here that John Williams first settled when he came to these islands so many years ago. It was not until last year, however, that the third angel’s message was preached here, although literature and occasional visits from workers had prepared the way for the reception of the truth in some hearts, and we believe there are many jewels yet to be found.
Recently we had our first baptism. Having never witnessed a baptism before, the natives were very much interested in all that took place. Monu, the candidate, was baptized by Elder F. E. Lyndon, in a peaceful stream shaded by tall trees. Almost all the people of the village were present, also some from other villages. We had a little folding organ on the banks of the stream, and sang some good hymns to open the service. Pastor Lyndon made the subject of baptism very clear to the native mind. He took as his text the words found in Eph. 4: 5: “One Lord, one faith, one baptism,” and illustrated it by a chart with a picture of the baptism of Jesus. All felt convinced that sprinkling is not Bible baptism, although these people have known of no other.
We have two small companies of Sabbath keepers here now, but only one member has been baptized so far. We hope that several others may also take this step soon. We are working to this end, and are of good courage in this blessed work.

Report from the Victoria Nyanza Mission Field

At the outbreak of the war the mission stations in German East Africa were cut off from communication with the outside world, save as a few fragmentary reports were sent out in the early stages through Portuguese East Africa. This is the first full report that we have received from the missions along the Victoria Nyanza, since the conquest by the British forces in German East Africa. It is sent by Brother V. E. Toppenberg, who is of neutral citizenship, and who was therefore able to remain on the stations until he could reach the advancing British lines. His report of the perils that surrounded them in the interim, when the natives of the country were left without any governmental supervision, will be read with deep interest. We believe Brother Toppenberg is of Danish citizenship, though he formerly lived in America, having worked in Colorado. Sister Toppenberg was Miss Minnie Hansen, of the Washington Sanitarium Training School for Nurses. The letter, in part, is as follows:—
“ENGLISH CAMP, UKEREWE ISLAND (formerly German East Africa), August 6, 1916.
“To the Mission Board of Seventh-day Adventists, Washington, D. C.
Map, drawn from sketch furnished by V. E. Toppenberg, accompanying his report from Victoria Nyanza Mission. First report received since beginning of war.
Map, drawn from sketch furnished by V. E. Toppenberg, accompanying his report from Victoria Nyanza Mission. First report received since beginning of war.
“DEAR BRETHREN: Finally, after two long years of waiting, the way opens so that we can get in communication with the outside world, so I think it my duty to report from this remote corner of the Master's vineyard.
“When the war began, we were not very well prepared for it as far as food and clothes were concerned. We had just sent orders to British East Africa for sugar, flour, oil, and other supplies. Large shipments of goods from Europe and America had arrived in Mombasa, none of which, however, ever reached us. At a stroke we were set back in the Middle Ages. We had no white flour, not even wheat from which to make it, no white sugar, no petroleum, no soap; in short, none of all the things we have been accustomed to think indispensable. For these and many other things we had to find substitutes. We had bananas, native grains and muhogo for flour, wild honey for sugar, candles made of tallow for lights, and soap made from wood ashes and lime. Clothes were also unprocurable, so we replaced worn-out garments by clothing made of goat and gazelle skins; made yarn of cotton, and knitted stockings of it; and improvised in other ways. But in spite of all, our bread and water has been sure, and more than that, God has given us an abundance of good things; his promises have been more than fulfilled.
“All building was stopped, but otherwise the mission work was carried on as usual. Uprisings among the natives were feared by the government people at the beginning of the war, and we were instructed to inform the natives of our stations that there was no war between the Europeans and the natives; it was only soldier against soldier.
“Not long after the opening of the war, Brother and Sister F. Bornath, at our station in Utimbaru, were taken for internment, as you undoubtedly know. Later the Masais, a fierce and warlike tribe east of us, came swarming the country, stealing cattle. At one time when they plundered in Usukuma, near Kanadi, Brother R. Munzig wanted to help his natives to keep them off, but lost his life in defense of the people for whom he faithfully worked. He was stabbed from behind by a spear, and cut with a sword on his cheek and neck, this attack also coming from behind. Before this occurred, Brother H. Palm had been shot in Shirati, of which I presume you have heard. [He was killed by a stray bullet that passed through the wall of the mission house,which was in the zone of conflict.]
“Shortly before the war, we had been transferred from Sizaki to our oldest station, Busegwe, which Elder J. Persson left when he went on furlough to Europe, in July, 1914. Soon Sizaki, as well as some other stations, was entirely deserted by our missionaries, only a native teacher being left to hold school and to look after the station. The mission station in Utimbaru was made into a fort, Niavangi was occupied by the district secretary, and the school building in Busegwe was for some time used as a hospital for wounded native soldiers, and later as a base for supplies. In Ikidzu they occupied both school and shop, though we continued the work as usual on the last two of these stations. Considering the number of workers in mission service, I am sure the work during this time of war, until we had to entirely abandon our stations, compares very favorably with the same period in times of peace, as far as the number of natives won for Christ, and the tithes and offerings received, are concerned.
“In June, 1916, the English occupied Ukerewe Island, where I am writing this, and last month (July) they took Muanza, the seat of the provincial commissioner of this province, in which all our stations on the German side are located. When the natives heard of this, they lost fear of the German officials, and even openly disobeyed orders, and it became worse when all the officials as well as soldiers left Ikidzu, going south; uproar started immediately by the natives in Ikidzu killing the native police and watchmen left to guard the station. They robbed the government property, and it was reported to us that the Christians who had been left behind by Dr. F. W. Vasenius to watch his property and that of the mission, had been driven away, some having been killed and their huts burned. I tried to send messengers to them with words of courage and instruction, but all the letters were brought back undelivered because of the war raging everywhere. The uproar quickly spread from tribe to tribe.
“Every day brought new and startling reports. My family and I were the only Europeans left in the district as far south as the river Mbalageti, and we had been warned by the government officials that an uprising was to be expected. When Brother B. Ohme went south, he wrote that he feared an uprising, but did not know of any safe place where he could advise us to go. This was the last word we heard from any of our missionaries. With our fifteen months' old baby we could not very well run around in the unknown parts with the soldiers, so we decided to wait on our station until we were sure that the time had come for us to leave. We did what we could to protect ourselves, put out night watches, and for the rest we committed ourselves to God's care.
“Finally the uprising spread to Busegwe also. A chief and his subchief, with women and children, had fled from Niavangi with their one hundred and fifty head of cattle. Busegwe natives surrounded them and robbed them of all the cattle, and killed one woman and a child. This started trouble; the natives painted themselves for war, and all wore spears and swords, and carried bows and poisoned arrows. They rushed in crowds here and there, and finally came howling and yelling on the mission land toward our house. We now saw that the time had come to leave. We had everything ready for flight, and left Busegwe with the Christians belonging to the mission and the boys. Several chiefs who were robbed of all their property by the natives came to us, because the natives sought to kill them.
“So we started off. At every kraal we passed through, we heard of new troubles. Having remained behind eight days in a land without law, where there were uprisings, we were very tired from the nervous strain and from loss of sleep. Friday evening we arrived in Sizaki, our former home. Here the natives had already robbed the mission, and the teacher had fled. Sizaki was also in a state of war, the subchiefs having been robbed of their cattle, and the natives were attempting to steal the property of the chief when we came. We felt that it might be the last day we should ever see, and yet we decided not to go away before the Sabbath was over; accordingly we remained until Saturday night, when we left for Guta.
“Five chiefs and their subchiefs who feared for their lives, accompanied us through a country that was like a zoological garden. Right and left were thousands of zebras, hartebeests, wildebeests, and many other antelopes and gazelles, also ostriches, and other beasts and birds. I did not take time to hunt, but hurried right on. That evening we slept by the seashore, at Speke Gulf. Here the Swahili overseers of the lime works had been killed. We saw their empty huts and the empty house of the European who used to live here. Monday we came into country under the chief of Ukerewe, and Tuesday we were by the channel separating Ukerewe Island from the mainland. Wednesday we crossed in the canoes, and soon we were met by the English outposts,—and we were safe. The chief official himself came down to meet us, and received us very kindly. We were brought to the camp at Buramba, where we were given a very nice and comfortable thatch hut.
“Since coming here we have received news that the natives have not only robbed one station after another, but have destroyed the buildings and everything. We had hoped to be able to stay here until the English officials came to bring order and law into the country, and then to go back to our station, where we of course shall find all our things gone and the house damaged. We had personal property at the station to the value of $300 at least, besides much mission and government property. The chief official here thinks, however, that possibly we shall be called to Muanza, where all Europeans are sent who come from the German colony.
“During these two years we have had much sickness in our family, but we thank God that our lives have been spared through these seven years of labor in Africa.”

The Work in South Africa

ELDER W. B. WHITE, of Cape Town, South Africa, writes:—
“It has recently been my privilege to assist in the dedication of two new native churches in our Union Conference. The first of these services was at Kolo Mission. For about a year the work of building had been going forward. The church is of cut sandstone, with iron roof and flagstone floor. It has a modest cupola, or belfry, which gives the building a neat, finished appearance. We doubt if there is a better native church in Basutoland. To the dedicatory service came a great crowd of Basutos from all parts of the surrounding country. They packed the church full, and many were obliged to remain outside.”
“The following week we were with our native people at Kroonstad. For a month or two the brethren in charge, with a number of native helpers, had been laboring hard to erect a church in the native location. This building is of burned brick, with iron roof and clay floor. Probably later a brick floor will be put in. The building is about twenty-two by forty feet, and will furnish a very convenient place of worship for our native believers in Kroonstad. The brethren have built well, and the house is a credit to the work.”

Book Sales in South Africa

By I. J. Hankins

BROTHER I. J. HANKINS reports from South Africa: “In the Cape Province the selling of books on commission without license is now prohibited. We may place our agents on salary, however, and thus continue our work. We have decided to do this, and have so notified the authorities. Our agents will receive their salary direct from the office each month, having first faithfully reported their time and sales.”

Joy Over New Mission Recruits

A RECENT letter from Elder F. A. Detamore, of the Malaysian Mission, who had been meeting some of the new recruits arriving in the Asiatic Division, voices again the joy of the workers as reënforcements come to the mission fields. “I cannot tell you,” he writes, “how it rejoices our hearts to meet these new recruits. Surely the Lord has set his hand to finish the work rapidly.”

Motor Car Journey from Jerusalem to Damascus

THE Near East is not the old East any more, in these days of change. A London journal, the Near East, speaking of the recent building of roads to facilitate military operations, says: “A carriage can now travel all the way from Jerusalem to Damascus. The journey was actually accomplished last April by a motor car in one day. The car started from Jerusalem at 5 A. M., stopped for lunch at Tiberias, and reached Damascus at 7 P. M.”

The Morning Watch

By MRS. I. H. E.

A NEW year is almost here, and 1916 will soon be history. The past we must leave with God, and the future is also his. But to us he has given the present; and though it is separated from the past and hidden from the future, it holds the key to all success.
How many good resolutions will be formed, how many new promises made, during these closing hours of the old year! We desire to make for 1917 a better record than the one we are now committing to the mercy of our heavenly Father. Many of us have determined to amend our ways, and more fully live the Christ-life during the coming days. Some will think of special weaknesses, such as impatience, intemperance, covetousness, and other attributes of the carnal heart over which they propose by the grace of God to gain the victory.
But it will take more than resolutions to enable us to win in the battle against sin, and live a victorious Christian life. Great victories are not often won without great battles. Some of us will have such conflicts as we have never before waged if we are to overcome, but every one of us has the assurance that we may gain the victory if we will.
I wish to suggest two things that will aid in obtaining this result: First, a daily study of the Word of God; and second, daily prayer. Without these, no life can be victorious.
No one thing will prove of greater help to a victorious Christian life than the Morning Watch. You may ask, What is the Morning Watch? It is not a thing, it is a habit,—the habit of daily reading and memorizing one or more Bible texts in the early morning hours, meditating upon their meaning, receiving their divine message to the heart, and then spending a few minutes in secret prayer.
This habit is the preparation that will often insure victory in the day's struggles and conflicts.
The Missionary Volunteer Department has a beautiful Morning Watch Calendar prepared for 1917. It contains selected Scriptures for memorizing for every day in the year. It also gives sunset tables, and suggests subjects for special prayer.
Many have received great help from the use of the Morning Watch Calendar in forming the habit of daily Bible study and prayer. The blessing this little booklet has proved to thousands can never be told in type and ink. It is an experience, and an experience so precious that those who have formed the Morning Watch habit would not willingly give it up.
Why not start the new year with a definite purpose to avail yourself of the blessings that may come to your life through the Morning Watch? And why not encourage the members of your family, especially the children and youth, to avail themselves of this spiritual help? Such a habit, formed in their early years, will follow them all their lives, and its influence can never be measured.
Let us form the Morning Watch habit. MRS. I. H. E.

The Undertone

By Lulu Linton

“MOTH-ER,” a boy’s voice called from the dining-room, “Moth-er!”
Mrs. Hanson set her lips in a firm line, and went on with her dish-washing as if she had not heard. She was so very tired that even this name, to which she usually responded so proudly, sounded hateful to her, and she thought, bitterly, “They’re always calling mother. They roll it slowly over their tongues as if to get all the flavor out of it, and I’m so tired.”
“Mother,” came more briskly from the kitchen door, “say, moth-er, will you help me with my ’rithmetic, soon as the dishes are done?”
“No, I will not. You must learn sometime to depend on yourself, and you might as well begin now.”
Joseph William Hanson, Jr., gasped at the unexpected reply, then gulped hard at the lump that filled his throat. He wasn’t going to make a baby of himself before the girls, that was certain; so he pulled his cap down over his eyes, and made a dash for the side door.
Mrs. Hanson jumped nervously as the door slammed, then went on with her task as if nothing unusual had happened. Down deep in her heart she was already sorry that she had answered her big boy in such a cross tone. What if she should be the cause of his running about on the streets at night, as so many boys did. He was her first-born, her big boy! How proudly she had addressed the tiny announcement cards, bearing the dignified name Joseph William Hanson, Jr. To be sure, the name had not been used much, except to decorate these cards; for a mischievous friend of the father’s had gazed into the wee red face, saying: “I’m glad to make your acquaintance, Joe Bill,” and the nickname had stuck.
“Where d’you reckon Joe Bill went?” asked Martia, the slender little girl who was drying the dishes.
“Attend to your work, and stop asking questions,” was the surprising answer, and Martia came so near dropping the plate she held that fat little Elsie, who had not yet been promoted from spoons and forks, giggled gleefully; but one glance from her mother had a quieting effect. Just then, Wayne and Walter, the two younger boys, came racing into the kitchen, squabbling over their football, running into Elsie, who was carrying her tray of silverware to the dining-room table. There was a jingling downpour, and an indignant cry from Elsie. Mrs. Hanson, drying her hands quickly, gave each of the boys a good shaking, sending them from the room with the stern command to stay out.
Mr. Hanson looked up wearily from his paper as the two came rushing back into the sitting-room, and Walter, the littlest one, sobbed out the explanation, “Moth-er is—is—crossways.”
The work in the kitchen was finished in absolute silence. Usually the girls sang, with mother joining in, but the girls were afraid to try it tonight.
Mrs. Hanson was tired. Every inch of her body cried out from utter weariness; and as she thought it over, it seemed to her that she was always tired. It had been her usual baking day, and baking day for her healthy brood was no small affair. Unexpected company on the day before had thrown her cleaning off schedule, adding it to the overfull baking day. If she neglected any of her usual tasks, they piled up on her, she said laughingly, on the days when all went well, and she was feeling at her best. “They pile up in such a big heap that I get covered over and can’t climb out,” was one of her joking ways of expressing it; but she did not feel like joking tonight. Her house had been in order when the older children and the father came home, but they came in out of a steady downpour of rain, bringing dripping umbrellas and raincoats, and muddy overshoes. Then they had attacked the products of her day’s toil with such vigor that there threatened to be a shortage before another baking day. So it wasn’t the proverbial last straw that had caused her temper to break, but a whole bale of last straws.
Martia and Elsie scurried off to the sitting-room to their books as soon as they had finished their tasks in the kitchen. Their father was still buried in his paper, oblivious to the fact that he had the best chair in the best light, and that the sheets of his paper, which he had finished reading and thrown down, had added to the general disorder. Mrs. Hanson glanced about the room with a frown, then snatching up a shawl, she said: “I’m going out for a while. Don’t wait up for me.”
The girls glanced at each other in dismay. With Joe Bill sulking out in the porch swing, and mother away, it gave promise of being a dull evening. The littlest boy began to whimper again, but she went out and closed the door, making no explanations. Out in the misty night, she made her way across the street to the beautiful house on the corner, and Miss Ault, its owner, greeted her unexpected guest cordially.
“But where are the children?” she asked. “Wasn’t it Elsie’s time to come?”
Going to Miss Margaret’s was one of the rewards for good behavior in the Hanson family, and the children had to take turns being mother’s companion on these calls.
“I didn’t tell them I was coming here. I didn’t want them—any of them,” was the weary reply. “I wanted to get away. It has been such a day! I couldn’t make you understand how hard it has been. I’m so tired of being a slave! It would take more than a war to strike off my shackles. I’ve worked so hard, but the house looks as if a whirlwind had struck it. My artistic soul cried out hungrily from where it was buried under all that rubbish, for just one glimpse of your peaceful, beautiful, orderly house, so I came. Please play for me.”
Miss Ault looked pityingly at the small, fair woman who had dropped in a discouraged heap in one corner of the big, soft divan across the room from the grand piano. It was her favorite position while listening to the music made by her gifted friend.
As Miss Ault played, the tired eyes of her listener drank in hungrily the beauty of the big, perfect room. Everything was in order. Its quiet tones all harmonized. Even the lights from the open fire blended with the rich brown of Miss Ault’s dress, and with the coppery tints of her lovely hair. Gradually Mrs. Hanson’s tense nerves relaxed, and the weariness faded from her face. Miss Ault saw, and nodded approvingly, then her supple white fingers drew forth a new melody. Mrs. Hanson listened eagerly. She had never heard her friend play like this. There was something about the beautiful strains that she did not understand.
“What is it?” she cried, as the fingers dropped from the last tender, caressing note. “I never heard you play that before.”
“No, I play this one only for myself. It is called ‘Good Night,’” and Miss Ault’s voice was unsteady.
“There’s a something about it—something different from your usual playing,” Mrs. Hanson insisted. “I can’t explain it, but there was an undertone that tugged at my heartstrings until they ached, and I want to know what you were trying to say to me.”
“Do you really want to know what that undertone was?” Miss Ault’s voice thrilled with intense feeling. “You never heard me play like that because I do not lay my heart bare before even my dearest friend. But tonight I wanted to tug at your heartstrings, I wanted to make them ache, for oh, my dear, you needed it! You have had a hard day,—you say I can’t understand how hard, but I know this, that the day has been infinitely harder for me than for you. A spring day with lowering clouds and rainfall brings memories that stir my heart’s depths; and make me hate the peace and order of this house. Let me try to tell you what that little wordless song means to me. When I play, I see a home, not merely a suite of orderly rooms, and in the home is a busy woman, absorbed, maybe almost submerged, with home duties, but looking forward eagerly to the close of the day that will bring her loved ones all within the heart circle.
“Perhaps the husband and father will come home tired and quiet, but she will understand that he has worked hard for his family, and that home is the one place in all the world where he can relax and rest, feeling that he is understood. Perhaps the children will be careless and thoughtless at times, but they are hers,—her very own, loving her best of all the world; for to them she is the center of all this old world holds in the way of love and happiness. There will be the happy time when the whole circle mingles together, then good-night kisses and clinging arms of sleepy children; then the hour when the two faithful partners sit together, perhaps without words, yet each feeling sure of the other’s love and trust.
“The picture I see in that little song almost drives me mad. You speak of your artistic soul crying out hungrily—what if it was your woman’s heart? Do you ever stop to think of the wonderful joy of being necessary to their happiness? Do you ever recognize the music in that call of ‘Mother’ as they every one begin calling you from the time they enter the door until they have found you? They prove by this very call that you are the home, the all in all of their existence.
“I’d gladly exchange this house, beautiful as it is, in all its perfect order, for just one day in a home like yours,—the kind of home that was to have been mine,—one precious evening with the one who was to have been my partner for life, and with my bairns calling to me as yours call to you. Weariness of body and nerves is hard to bear, but oh, thank God that you have your loved ones to work for! And after this, when your artistic soul cries out for order and quiet, think of the hungry heart across the way starving for love such as you have in abundance every day. I—let me play it again, now that you understand what the undertone means.”
Jessie Hanson listened this time, with tears stealing down her face, washing away all the bitterness, all the thoughts of her work as being slavery. Her heart was swelling with gratitude for the bonds of love that held her close. She was listening, but her heart was across the way, in the house where things showed the marks of use; and she was saying to herself: “I must hurry, for I want to play the children’s good-night song while they sing, and put the littlest boy to bed, and let the girls tell me all about what happened at school, and help Joe Bill with his troublesome ’rithmetic. And then, when they are all in bed, I want to smooth the tired look away from the dear eyes of Joe, Sr., and tell him how happy I am to be his wife and the mother of our little flock.”
At the last note of the song she said simply, “I must go home,” and Miss Ault understood.—Lulu Linton, in the Sunday School Times.

Compensation

By Mrs. I. H. E.

A FEW steps only down the days All plain the path before us lies; Then mists and shades fold out the view, And hide it from our anxious eyes.
Yet still we go — but not afraid, As one who walks at night alone: The mists will lift, the shadows flee; God’s sheltering love will guard his own.
And when, far forward on life’s road, The sun shines backward o’er the years, A miracle I seem to see,— Life’s rainbow from life’s tears!
MRS. I. H. E.

Conducted by Mrs. I. H. Evans, Takoma Park, Washington, D. C

By Mrs. I. H. Evans; Miss Lora E. Clement

Assisted by Miss Lora E. Clement
Through the columns of this department, hints will be given on all matters pertaining to the home life. Short articles and letters are solicited from home makers, telling of their everyday experiences,—their joys and sorrows, their failures and successes.

Two Prune Dishes

To make prune whip, wash one pound of prunes well, and soak in cold water to cover overnight. In the morning cook in the same water, over a slow fire, until tender. When cool, remove the stones, and put the pulp through a sieve. Sweeten to taste with powdered sugar, and beat well with a fork or Dover egg beater. Then take the whites of two eggs and beat very stiff. When stiff, add slowly two heaping tablespoonfuls of powdered sugar. Whip this slowly into the prunes, pile into the dish from which it is to be served, and let stand on ice for one hour, at least, to get firm.
Prune whip may be served with whipped cream or the following custard: To one dessertspoonful of cornstarch add two tablespoonfuls of sugar and the yolks of two eggs well beaten. Mix this well until there are no lumps. Have ready in a double boiler one pint of milk that has just come to the boiling point. Stir the mixture of cornstarch, sugar, and eggs into the scalding milk, and cook until it thickens. Take from the fire, and flavor to taste with vanilla.
This delicate custard may be served also as an addition to fresh or stewed fruit.
Prune soufflé may be made as prune whip is made, with the exception that it is put into the oven to brown instead of on the ice to cool. After the eggs have been beaten into the sweetened prunes, the whole mixture is put into a buttered dish, and then put into the oven for twenty minutes to brown. It may be served hot or cold, and with either custard or whipped cream as a sauce.—Housewives' League Magazine.

The Best of Missionaries

“He who goes down into the battle of life giving a smile for every frown, a cheery word for every cross one, and lending a helping hand to the unfortunate, is, after all, the best of missionaries.”

To Thine Own Self Be True

“To thine own self be true, and it must follow, as the night the day, thou canst not then be false to any man.”

Porto Rico

By D. D. Fitch

Last year, about the time of the week of prayer, a man of considerable ability and force of character, who had served as pastor of another church for a number of years, called on me to present himself as a candidate for membership in our church here. During the months that have elapsed, he has given diligent study to the truth, and is serving the church as a teacher and officer, and in the mission is an enthusiastic canvasser and self-supporting worker.
Largely through the influence of this worker, another minister, a man whom any church would gladly welcome, has connected with our work in Santurce. He has a trade and business relations that are not interfered with by his Sabbath keeping. The first-mentioned man has had considerable experience as a carpenter and contractor.
About the same time a minister of yet another church severed his connection therewith because, through the efforts of a faithful canvasser, he had seen the light of the Sabbath. He moved to Santurce, spent some time in study, was rebaptized, and is now in the canvassing field. His wife is also fully with us.
The tenth of this month, in discharge of my responsibilities as Missionary Volunteer secretary, I went to the western end of the island to work among the young people in that section. While associated with Brother Moon in this work, I learned of a man who, after serving as a pastor for ten years, had come to Brother Moon, asking for baptism. As he was not sufficiently acquainted with the doctrinal points of our faith, he was asked to wait awhile. Brother Moon and I went to the town where he lived, studied with him, and left him prepared for baptism, which will doubtless be administered within the next few weeks. Conversing with this man, I learned that he and his wife had been keeping the Sabbath for six months, and he gave much of the credit for his change of faith to the contact he had had with the faithful canvassers. He is now carrying on a printing office for himself.
On returning from this trip, I found on my desk a letter from another minister, from which I quote as follows:—
“I am a teacher in the public schools of —. Last summer I worked as a preacher with the — mission, laboring day and night against the doctrines you preach.
“I should confess that I really had not made a serious study of the Bible. But now that the Holy Spirit has opened my eyes wider, I see that you are preaching what the Bible really says about what the Father wants us to do and believe.
“I want to join the Adventist Church as soon as I can, and wish you to send me some religious literature.”
We have reason to expect greater things as the Lord continues to work, for surely this is the Lord’s work and not man’s. D. D. FITCH.
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