"ALONE with his own soul and the reality of things." A time comes in every man's life when he faces the awful reality of being. To come face to face with yourself, with your soul; to have the great mystery of existence glaring in upon you with its terrors, and its splendors, stirs the depth of a man's nature.
To have these moments of self-revelation we must go away by ourselves to meditate, to commune with ourselves in the silence. When we are in company, we are not so apt to be genuine; then other people's ideas and personality are pressed upon us. In the noise of this world we cannot hear "the still small voice."
I think we are afraid to be alone, afraid of our own thoughts; yet this solitude is necessary to growth, both spiritual and mental. For example, solitude in the spiritual life; Jesus Christ, approaching the great event of his life, the sacrifice on Calvary, went apart41alone.
John the Baptist, preparatory to the taking up of his life work, went apart into the wilderness to be alone. Solitude is the preparation for the great moments of life.
In the mutual life solitude is strength. If we cultivate this habit of solitude, we find that it is not so dreary a thing as the inexperienced believe, and a man's life is happier for its moments of healthful solitude, and has a strength that is missing in the lives of those who never go apart.—New York Observer.
WHAT DO OUR GREAT MEN SAY?
By Elder J. M. Cole
BY ELDER J. M. COLE.
THE opinions of our learned men are often urged as arguments that the first day of the week is the Sabbath, and many cling to the observance of Sunday, "because," say they, "if there is no evidence in the Bible for it, our great men would surely know it." The God who knows the hearts of all men tells us plainly in his word that "great men are not always wise" (Job 32: 9), "but God hath chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the wise" (1 Cor. 1:27). Again, it is said to those who have followed the say so of men, "Ye have plowed wickedness, ye have reaped iniquity [sin]; ye have eaten the fruit of lies; because thou didst trust in thy way, in the multitude of thy mighty men." Hosea 10:13.
Listen to a few of the frank confessions from the lips of those who are themselves Sunday keepers. Dr. William Smith, LL.D., after examining all the texts supposed to have reference to Sunday keeping, says:—
Taken separately, perhaps, or even all together, these passages seem scarcely adequate to prove that the dedication of the first day of the week to the purpose afore mentioned was a matter of apostolic institution, or even of apostolic practice.—Dictionary of the Bible, art. Lord's Day.
The "Encyclopedia Britannica," after calling attention to the usual scriptural arguments, says:—
Still it must be owned that these passages are not sufficient to prove the apostolic institution of the Lord's day, or even the actual observance of it.—Art. Sabbath.
"Encyclopedia of Religious Knowledge," by B. B. Edwards, article "Sabbath," says:—
There is not on record any divine command issued to the apostles to change the Sabbath from the day on which it was held by the Jews, to the first day of the week.
Rev. Lyman Abbott, D.D., in the Christian Union of Jan. 19, 1882, plainly states:—
The current notion that Christ and his apostles authoritatively substituted the first day of the week for the seventh, is absolutely without authority in the New Testament.
Now hear the Rev. Dr. Barnes: "No precept for it [Sunday keeping] is found in the New Testament." Rom. 4:15.
Buck's "Theological Dictionary," page 403, after presenting all the first-day arguments, says:—
These arguments, however, are not satisfactory to some; and it must be confessed that there is no law in the New Testament concerning the first day.
The Protestant Episcopal Church in "Explanation of its Catechism" says:—
The day is now changed from the seventh to the first day; . . . but as we meet with NO SCRIPTURAL DIRECTION for the change, we may conclude it was done by the authority of the church.
Richard Watson, in his "Theological Dictionary," says:—
Now there is not on record any divine command to the apostles to change the Sabbath from the day on which it was held by the Jews to the first day of the week.
Dr. Fallows says:—
The New Testament is silent about a change of days. The apostles doubtless observed the same Sabbath before and after the resurrection of our Lord, as would be very natural.
Binney's "Theological Compend Improved" (Methodist), designed for Bible classes, theological students, and young preachers, admits that "it is true there is no positive command for infant baptism, . . . nor is there any for keeping holy the first day of the week."—Page 181.
And again, on page 171 of the same work, it reads:—
Jesus, after his resurrection, changed the Sabbath from the seventh day to the first day of the week; when Jesus gave instructions for this change we are not told, but very likely during the time when he spake to his disciples of things pertaining to his kingdom. Acts 1:3. This is probably one of the many unrecorded things which Jesus did.
Now let another of the D.D.'s hit the mark. Dr. Chas. H. Parkhurst, in the Christian Union of January 24, 1886, says on the "Lord's day" of Rev. 1:10:—
The case is a difficult one to state justly. That is one reason that the pulpit has so little to say concerning it, and one reason so much written upon it misses the mark. It is a hard mark to hit. One reason of this is the target is so obscure, and another that so many arrows are flying through the air at all angles that it becomes difficult to gain a clear, sure, and steady aim. It is certainly wise to confess the difficulties. If Christ had himself made some definite utterance in regard to observing holy time, matters would be simplified. Opportunities occurred frequently when he might have said something very definite, and that was exactly what the people wanted him to say; but he dealt with the matter only generally. Paul, likewise, handles the question in much the same way. We never hear Paul telling them to observe Sunday, and never discover him sketching any plan for Sunday observance. No one who wants an itemized scheme of Sunday keeping can obtain any such thing either from Paul or the Lord. No one has yet made any careful study of the New Testament if he does not discover clear evidence of intentional indefiniteness.
Alexander Campbell, in a lecture in Bethany College, 1848, quoted in Proclamation and Reformer, Cincinnati, says:—
Was the first day of the week set apart by public authority in the apostolic age? No. By whom was it set apart, and when? By Constantine, who lived about the beginning of the fourth century.
It has been held by many eminent divines that there is not sufficient evidence in the New Testament for such an institution; that the change of the day from the seventh to the first day of the week is an insuperable difficulty.—Art. Sabbath.
E. A. Waffle, M.A., professor of rhetoric and English literature in Lewisburg University, Lewisburg, Pa., in his book called "The Lord's Day," on page 186 says:—
Up to the time of Christ's death no change had been made in the day. The authority must be sought in the words or in the example of the inspired apostles.
On the next page (187) he farther states:—
So far as the record shows, they [the apostles] did not, however, give any explicit command enjoining the abandonment of the seventh-day Sabbath, and its observance on the first day of the week.
Rev. E. B. Hatch, pastor of the Baptist Church, Salinas, Cal., in the August number, 1892, of Pacific Coast Sabbath Union Monthly, writes:—
The religious observance of the first day of the week is not directly commanded in the New Testament. We frankly concede all the Sabbatarian claims on this point, and the absence of any such command in the New Testament concerning the "Lord's day" is a stumbling block to the mere superficial reader.
Rev. John Snyder, in an article in the St. Louis Globe Democrat of April 3, 1887, said:—
Every instructed man knows that there is no New Testament authority for the change of the day of rest from the seventh to the first day of the week.
Every instructed man knows that the Catholic Church gave to the Christian world the Sunday, and determined the manner in which it should be used. And when Protestantism threw off the authority of the Catholic Church, it abandoned the only ecclesiastical foundation upon which Sunday can logically rest.
LOSS OF FAITH.
By Christian Standard
An able and influential lawyer, a man well advanced in years and successful in his profession, a member of long standing in the church, one whose supposed lot most men would envy, said to me that the saddest thing in his experience was the loss of the trusting, childlike faith he had once enjoyed. He had but recently lost his wife, and his children had begun to scatter abroad upon the face of the earth, leaving the old homestead more and more desolate. Somehow he had failed to keep that which would have been to him in these circumstances beyond all price—that faith which was very "precious" to the aged Peter, and grew more and more precious as he neared the martyrdom for which he had been marked.
As we all reach the time when we know that we "must shortly put off this tabernacle," we most keenly enjoy the possession of that precious faith, or most keenly lament its loss. If we have allowed it to lapse, to become utterly eclipsed, if we have not held fast our begun confidence, we are of all men most miserable. We have no longer hope in this life, and that in the life to come has been allowed to perish. In the case cited I tried to find out how this came to pass. The man's business—for the most part that of a corporation lawyer—was intensely secular; if not irreligious, at least sordidly unreligious. As a counterweight against its influences he should have constantly "refreshed" his faith (as his craft so often admonish witnesses with respect to their memory) by copious draughts from the source and fountain of it,—the word of God. This he had not done. He read extensively, but his reading was chiefly of that sort which makes for skepticism. He had kept it up for years, with the feeling, no doubt, that he was too strong to be injured by such meat, however palatable it might be. He could possibly at any time have refuted, to his own satisfaction, the infidel teaching of any book or magazine article he had read, just as strong constitutions can throw off any single attack of malaria, and "feel as well as ever;" but, as in the case of the strong constitution, there comes a time when the slowly-accumulated poison wrecks the health utterly and hopelessly, so there came a time when the faith of this strong-minded, cultured man was seriously crippled, if not mortally wounded.
There are thousands of men and women today who are, in both the natural and spiritual realms, subjecting themselves to influences whose very deadliness consists in their apparent harmlessness. What folly! Brother, sister, if you would keep that precious thing, the most precious faith which you have obtained, against the day of its sorest need, the day of which you shall say, if you have not this faith, "I have no pleasure in it," be very sure that your reading, your associations, and your activity in the church, are such as promote its increase.
Bragging, Denial, and Repentance
"ALL men will be Peters in their bragging tongue, and most men will be Peters in their base denial; but few men will be Peters in their quick repentance."
CHUBBY DIXON'S PRAYER.
By Ella Foster Case
A TRUE STORY.
His real name was Frank Wentworth Dixon, but everybody, even to Aunt Hetty Fergis, called him "Chubby." This was, in fact, a very proper name for a boy whose width was in a fair way to catch up with his height.
Chubby had freckles and tow hair; yet, somehow, when the tow head bobbed in at a kitchen door and two merry eyes twinkled and a cheery voice called out, "Green corn to-day, cucumbers?" there was not a housewife in Colton but wanted to hug him on the spot.
Yes, green corn and cucumbers—these meant bright quarters and half dollars. Now for a boy who wears made-over clothes, quarters and half dollars are greatly to be desired. Chubby desired them, and that is why he spaded and raked, planted and hoed, till he had the best garden anywhere about. Not that money was the sole end and aim of Chubby's life; far from it. He worked for something better than money, namely, a whole year at the academy.
Once Chubby might have gone almost anywhere and done almost anything without thinking of the cost, but that was a long time ago, before Chubby and his mother went to live with Aunt Hetty; she it was who took them in when Chubby's father went off and left his wife and boy without a penny. Indeed, they were worse off by many a penny than if they had "never sot eyes on him," as Aunt Hetty put it; for he spent not only his own money, but, in a dreadful moment, he forged Aunt Hetty's name to a note—that meant State prison.
"O Hetty!" begged the poor wife, when the miserable story was told, "you won't send him there—you can't. Think of Chubby."
Aunt Hetty did think of Chubby; so, instead of shutting up her bad brother-in-law, she put a mortgage on the little home, and now the two women sewed early and late to pay it off.
Chubby did not know all the ins and outs of the matter; he knew there was "trouble" of some kind; that their own home was gone, with its pretty belongings; that frosted cake was a thing of the past; and, worse than all else, that he must forever appear in made-over clothes.
Now Chubby was not a vain boy, yet he had feelings; and it is not pleasant for a boy to look as if he had been shot into his jacket, and through some miscalculation had gone a couple of inches too far. Chubby was conscious of presenting just this appearance. It was, therefore, with a glad heart that he went down to Mrs. Knapp's one hot, hot August day, to borrow her latest pattern. Mrs. Knapp was the village tailoress, who, in a moment of compassion, had offered her best pattern for Chubby's academy suit.
It was a hotter day when Chubby was called from the cool grape arbor to "come in and be fitted."
"All right, mamma," and he came hopping into the house like a disabled hen.
"I wouldn't hop too much till we see how it's coming out," snapped Aunt Hetty, who had just broken her fourth needle.
"Coming on, you mean," laughed her nephew, with supreme confidence in the new pattern.
"Stand up straight now, Chubby, and let me see about the shoulders; the front is all right," said his mother.
Chubby squared himself for the ordeal.
"It seems to bag in here," she continued, taking up a handful just below the nape of the neck. "It needs taking in a good two inches—so," and she jabbed in a pin to make sure of the place. "Just run up the collar, Hetty, while I baste this seam, and we'll have it fitted in no time."
Alas and alack! when the jacket was tried on again, even Chubby gave up in despair. The back of the collar, like water, was bound to run downhill.
"I verily believe," said Aunt Hetty, "the thing is possessed. The Valley of Humiliation isn't a circumstance to these everlasting collars." And she gave the offending garment an upward twitch that brought Chubby's white teeth together with a snap.
"I have tried and tried," sighed Mrs. Dixon hopelessly, "but I could never do anything with boys' clothes."
"It's plain neither of us can," snapped her prim sister, eyeing the new jacket spitefully. "This one looks like all the rest—as if it had been snatched."
Chubby knew at once what the effect must be, and, try as he would, his eyes began to fill.
"S'pose I oughtn't to care so much," thought he, with a look at his mother's tired and perplexed face. "S'pose I ought to be thankful for even—" but at this point visions of a boy in a "snatched" jacket were too much for all Chubby's "s'poses," and, with a lump in his throat, he dashed out of the door and fled to the barn, where he could shed his tears unseen in the haymow.
The speckled hen flew from her nest with a loud cackle as Chubby threw himself down.
"Wish I was a hen myself," sobbed the disappointed boy. "Then my coat would grow on me."
But when Chubby had cried his cry out, he made up his mind that even hens have their trials. Think of losing your coat entirely, and being made into a pie!
For a long time Chubby lay watching the cobwebs, trying to become reconciled to his fate. All at once a sunbeam popped through a knot hole, and struck him full in the eye. It seemed to bring Chubby to himself; for he sat up straight, and, with a little smile, whispered to himself: "I've said 'em always, ever since I was a baby, but I have never really asked for a single thing in all my life."
With that Chubby crawled over to the darkest corner, and in a trembling voice began: "Dear Lord, I ain't such a very good boy, but Aunt Hetty says I ain't so very awful, and if you only would send me a new jacket, I'd never forget it of you as long as I live. Dear Jesus," he added, sobbing, "make my papa send it to me, and make us all good."
Now it happened that Aunt Hetty, who had come out to get a fresh egg for her waffles, heard every word.
"O Lord!" she ejaculated, tiptoeing out of the barn, "don't lay it up agin' Chubby; he's a little boy, with no idea of the solemnness of praying for such a man as his father."
Aunt Hetty was firmly convinced that it was the greatest presumption to ask the good Lord to undertake such a tough job. The thought of Chubby's father brought so many other bitter thoughts along with it that she went back to her kitchen in a very wrathful state of mind.
As for Chubby, his heart was like a feather for lightness; he had asked in faith, and was sure of an answer. With new courage he ran to his garden, where he hoed and whistled, whistled and hoed, until supper time. He did not stop whistling even then, but bounced into the dining room with such a breezy note that three tired pickers were blown right out of his mamma's forehead, while Pussy Willow, the cat, was saved an extra pull of the tail. Pussy Willow was Aunt Hetty's safety valve. A twich at his long-suffering tail seemed to let off her ill temper and restore her to a peaceful frame of mind.
Chubby prayed his new prayer not once only, but every day, and many times a day; for he had read about the widow who asked over and over again, and he had no notion of being outdone by a poor benighted widow. Moreover, as school would begin in two weeks, he felt there was no time to lose. So sure was Chubby that the new suit would come in time that he made it a point to be at the gate every night when the stage came along, so as to be ready to carry in the box.
The days went by, and so did the stage. On the last night Chubby watched it disappear around the corner with a sinking heart.
"P'raps," thought he, "I've asked for too much. The Lord must have a heap of boys to look after. S'pose plenty of 'em would be glad enough to get any kind of clothes, without finding fault with the fit." By this time he had reached the haymow.
"Oh, I wish I didn't care, but I do, I do!"
Just as before, Chubby felt better when he had cried his cry out, and just as before he crawled over to the darkest corner and prayed a new prayer. This time it was for courage to wear the "snatched" jacket, and to wear it with a smiling face. This prayer was answered at once, for there was not a boy in the class who looked happier, or who studied with better success, than Chubby did that first week of school.
Then something happened. The stage actually43stopped at Chubby's gate; the driver carried in a box; in a whirl of joy Chubby tore off the cover. There was a letter on top for his mother; a jacket came next; a pair of trousers next, and—but Chubby couldn't stop to go to the bottom. With one war whoop, he changed jackets; 'twas a glorious fit! With another war whoop he stood on his head, and when Aunt Hetty came in from her biscuits to see what the racket was about, there was her sister crying for joy, and there was her nephew turning somersaults like mad.
"What is the matter?" she gasped, waving her doughy hands.
"A man-made jacket!" cried Chubby.
"O Hetty," sobbed Mrs. Dixon, "my husband has found the right way at last; he has gone to work like a man; he has sent these things, and is coming himself, and there's your check, Hetty, to pay off the mortgage!"
Aunt Hetty gazed at the box, then at her sister, then at her nephew, and last of all at the check. Finally she seemed to realize what it all meant, and, with a little cry, fell to hugging Chubby, regardless of dough, all the while exclaiming: "You was an instrument yourself, Chubby; I heard you praying; and, to my mind, the removing of mountains ain't a circumstance to it, not a circumstance!"
—N. Y. Observer.
The Home Circle.
"Whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things."—Phil. 4:8.
THE WORKINGMAN'S PAIL.
By Benjamin P. Field
BY BENJAMIN P. FIELD.
'Tis not in the high places that the most pleasure give;
It is not the rich who the happiest live;
'Tis not always plenty that makes the best feast,
For often 'tis sweetest where there is the least.
From the banquet hall down to the peasant's plain board,
No matter what danties each grade may afford,
As sweet-flavored morsel, the best of them fail
When compared with the bread in the working-man's pail.
A king may have power and be honored and grand,
And luxuriantly live on the "fat of the land;"
He may robe him in purple and crown his proud head,
But he knows not the sweetness of a plain loaf of bread
Bought from the earnings of the hard-working man
And moulded in shape by a kind, loving hand.
There's no such sweet meal among kings the world over
As comes from the pail with a cup on the cover.
Sweet because earned by hands without gloves,
And neatly fixed by the wife whom he loves,
The mother of his children, his hope and his pets,
Who through the day's toil he never forgets;
Who from their fond mother like little prayers learn
To watch every night for their father's return,
And hasten to meet him when the day's work is over,
And help carry the pail with a cup on the cover.
Could the little pail speak, it would whisper most sweet
Of something more lofty than plain bread and meat;
For between man and wife it has something to do,
And who knows but it helps to keep them both true?
For her heart beats for him as she fills the pail up,
And his throbs for her when he lifts off the cup.
It may keep their love fresh until life is over,
The little tin pail with a cup on the cover.
—New York Rural Home.
HARMONY AT HOME.
By Selected
1. WE may be quite sure that our will is likely to be crossed during the day; so let us prepare for it.
2. Every person in the house has an evil nature as well as ourselves, and therefore we are not to expect too much.
3. Look upon each member of the family as one for whom Christ died.
4. When inclined to give an angry answer, let us lift up the heart in prayer.
5. If from sickness, pain, and infirmity we feel irritable, let us keep a very close watch over ourselves.
6. Observe when others are suffering, and drop a word of kindness.
7. Watch for little opportunities of pleasing everybody, and put little annoyances out of the way.
8. Take a cheerful view of everything, and encourage hope.
9. Speak kindly to dependents and servants about the house, and praise them when you can.
10. In all little pleasures which may occur, put self last.
11. Try for that "soft answer" that turneth away wrath.—Selected.
PROFESSOR GLEASON ON DOCKING.
PROFESSOR GLEASON, the great horse tamer, like all true horse lovers, thinks the horse as made by the Creator is about as perfect in form as it is possible to make him. At one of his exhibitions a plump, muscular horse was turned into the ring. It was a pretty animal, all but the tail, which had been bobbed off after the style so much affected by brainless dandies. Pointing his finger pityingly at the animal, the professor said:—
"There is as pretty an animal of his class as can be found—if he was all there. I hope that there will come a time when the Legislature of the State of New York, and, for that matter, of every State in the Union, will pass a law making it a penal offense for anyone to disfigure his horse in this most brutal way. It pleases, perhaps, about a couple of hundred Anglomaniacs who drive in Central Park, and displeases the humane and patriotic sentiment of 60,000,000 of the American people."
An English lady tells me that even those who drive docked horses in England (where the climate in summer is cool, and they are free from mosquitoes and other troublesome insects common in this country) think docking unjustifiable in America.—Our Dumb Animals.
CARD PLAYING.
By M. P. Gaddis
THAT accomplished writer, the late Dr. Holland, of Springfield, Mass., said: "I have all my days had a card-playing community open to my observation, and I have yet to be made to believe that that which is the universal resort of the starved in soul and intellect, which has never in any way linked to itself tender, elevating, or beautiful associations—the tendency of which is to unduly absorb the attention from more weighty matters—can recommend itself to the favor of Christ's disciples. The presence of culture and genius may embellish, but it can never dignify it. I have at this moment," said Dr. Holland, "ringing in my ears the dying injunction of my father's early friend: 'Keep your son from cards. Over them I have murdered time and lost heaven.'"
Fathers and mothers, keep your sons from cards in the home circle. What must a good angel think of a mother at a prayer meeting asking prayers for the conversion of her son whom she allowed to remain at home playing cards for "pastime"?—M. P. Gaddis.
Health and Temperance.
"Whether therefore ye eat, or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God."—1 Cor. 10:31.
ALCOHOLIC MEDICATION.
By W. H. Wakeham
BY ELDER W. H. WAKEHAM.
Is not alcohol necessary as a medicine, and is it not a valuable aid to the wise physician? Possibly there are some facts which seem to emphasize an affirmative answer; but read what some able physicians say concerning the product of the still:—
Instead of being a valuable adjunct of the medicine shelf, alcohol is perhaps one of the most prolific sources of disease.—R. L. Bailey, M.D., L.L.D.
I am fully prepared to declare my belief, with those who have spoken to-night, that, as a whole, disease is very much more successfully combated without the use of stimulants than with them.—Dr. Henry Lancaster, M.R.C.S.
I have never, so far as I remember, for ten or twelve years, lost a single patient from typhoid fever, and have never given a single drop of stimulant therein. I have invariably had the happiness to see my patients recover far quicker than used to be the case in former days, when much stimulant was given. In fact, my own conviction is positive about this, that we should have far less disease if every drop of alcoholic drink were done away with to-morrow; and we should be able to treat the disease we have infinitely better without than with it.—Dr. J. J. Ritchie, M.R.C.S., of England.
The above I quote from the "Temperance Handbook." From the same source I find that Dr. L. M. Bennett reports five hundred cases of typhoid fever treated without alcohol, with a loss of only four per cent. The usual per cent. of deaths from this disease is from sixteen to twenty-five per cent. He states that it is his belief that there is no curable disease but what may be better cured without alcohol than with it.
A recent issue of the Health Monthly contains the following:—
The theory that whisky is necessary in the treatment of pneumonia has received a blow from Dr. Bull, of New York, who discovers that in the New York hospitals sixty-five per cent. of the pneumonia patients die with alcoholic treatment, while in London, at the Object Lesson Temperance Hospital, only five per cent. die.
The above statements concerning alcohol as a medicine are abundantly confirmed by the latest reliable scientific experiments. Happy the day when the use of alcohol in every form as medicine is entirely discarded.
CHILDREN'S NOSES.
Why Parents Should Look after Them with Great Care
TELL parents to look after their children's noses, said a physician the other day. A child begins to talk through his nose, and it is too often accepted as a habit that will correct itself when he is older. Nine times out of ten it indicates the presence of a trouble that increases with years, and that produces a train of more or less serious consequences.
Various growths and malformations easily removed in a child become much more formidable in the adult, yet the manifest presence of these is disregarded. The nose is so intimately connected with the throat and lower breathing apparatus that trouble in the nasal passages is sure sooner or later to extend. Boys are peculiarly liable to trouble with the nose from the bumps which they get in their rough play. It isn't necessary to break the nose to inflict a serious injury; unless that happens, however, nothing is thought of the hard knocks boys get on the nose until long after, when the trouble ceases to be dormant. The voice, of course, is soon affected with imperfect nasal air passages. It has been demonstrated, too, that catarrh in a growing child has to an extent a reflex action upon his mental development.
Parents should realize their responsibilities and their resources. These are days when many evils heretofore considered irremediable admit of correction always and possible cure if taken in time. A child allowed to grow up with such, unrelieved, has a right to hold his guardians to an account and explanation of the neglect.—Home Queen.
Tobacco Chewing and Eye Troubles
Dr. Francis Dowling, of Cincinnati, O., after a year of assiduous labor, has prepared a report on the effects on the eyes of tobacco chewing. He made a study of 3,000 persons employed in the various tobacco manufactories of that city, and embodies with the results in their cases those of studies made by the doctors in Paris and Berlin. Of the 3,000 under observation a close study was made of 1,500, all males, selected at random. He found that ninety-five per cent. suffered with visional troubles, and nearly as many exhibited muscular deterioration. It was also demonstrated that tobacco chewing is far more hurtful than smoking.
The World Is a Looking-Glass
By William Makepeace Thackeray
THE world is a looking-glass, and gives back to every man the reflection of his own face. Frown upon it, and it will, in turn, look sourly upon you; laugh at it and with it, and it is a jolly, kind companion.—Thackeray.
TOBACCO.
SAYS Dr. L. Bremer, late physician to the St. Vincent's Institute for the Insane, of St. Louis, Mo.: "Without entering into preliminaries and details, I will state at the outset that I side with those who, looking at the injurious effects [of tobacco] collectively, consider it more harmful than alcohol, from the simple fact that its use is more general, its effects more gradual and less obvious, and that, from a moral point of view, it is in better standing." "Now, I do not believe that, with approaching mature years, I am one of those who eye through pessimistic spectacles the rising generation, but I simply repeat the everyday observation, which I have never seen doubted or contradicted, that there is an alarming increase of juvenile smokers; and, basing my assertion on the experience gathered in my private practice and at the St. Vincent's Institution in this city, I will broadly state that the boy who smokes at seven will drink whisky at fourteen, take to morphine at twenty or twenty-five, and wind up with cocaine and the rest of the narcotics, at thirty and later on."
MISSIONARY METHODS.
By Editor
IN a little work of 175 pages, entitled "Modern Missions," by Rev. E. S. Todd, D.D., published by Hunt & Eaton, New York (1870), is a chapter on "Methods," which contains some facts worthy of consideration by every Christian missionary, and every Christian ought to be a missionary. Dr. Todd first states that missions have passed beyond that stage where the question as to their existence is no longer disputed, but now "the question of methods is the only debatable ground." He mentions the two general methods which are now advocated. The first of these is designated as "the method of stipendiary missions," and the second as that of "martyr missions." "In the first of these, a missionary is sent out by the representatives of an organized society which assumes the responsibility of a stated salary [or stipend, whence the name] for his support, of which the Missionary Society of the Methodist Episcopal Church [and we may add that of most other churches] is an example. The second method makes more of individual action. The missionary goes out without promise of any support, depending on his own exertions and the providence of God to supply his wants, with what chance aid may come from friends of himself or his cause."
The writer then proceeds to speak of the host of friends martyr missions have gained, whose friendship would be worth more were they willing to join "the noble army of martyrs." On the other hand, the method has been "severely criticized as a waste of valuable lives and resources," and an eminent authority has stated that "it has often been tried, but the result has in no case corresponded with the expectation of its projectors." Yet in spite of this Dr. Todd declares that "a glance at the history of missions will convince those who are not hopelessly biased that martyr missions have indeed often been tried, and that they have often been grandly successful; indeed, that whatever success the cause of missions has had has been mainly through martyr missions. It furthermore reveals that stipendiary missions have not often been tried, indeed, are something quite new to the history of the church, whose real value remains to be seen."
Dr. Todd then says that missionary work is not a movement of this century, and the theory that it is must be rejected as a "baseless supposition."
Apart from the work of the Greek and Roman churches, which have shown great zeal and sincerity in their own ways, Dr. Todd mentions three great missionary movements—in the first three centuries, in the sixth and seventh centuries, and in the eighteenth century, having for their respective centers Jerusalem, Iona, and Herrnhut. "In each of these movements martyr missions had eloquent illustration."
We wish we had space to give what Dr. Todd says on these three movements, but have not; we will, however, present a part of what he says concerning that of the first three centuries:—
The first, which by divine command began at Jerusalem, was so marked and glorious that the author of "the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire" found it necessary to devote an entire chapter to explain away the more remarkable features of it.
A company of fishermen, tax gatherers, and artisans, without influence or military backing, begin their testimony at Jerusalem, but soon go to Samaria and Antioch, then to Asia Minor, then across the sea to Greece, and on to Rome. Others turn to the east and visit Persia and Arabia, while still others visit the land of the pyramids and the Nile. They make converts, empty idol temples of worshipers, call forth letters from consuls, make the highway and wilderness places resound with the praises of newly-converted souls, and fix the attention of the crowds of the great cities with doctrines new and startling. Persecution rages. Nero uses some of them for burning torches to light his gardens, and amuses the populace by turning the lions on others in the amphitheater, with only the result of sowing a bountiful supply of martyr seed. In vain he issues edicts of persecution. He cannot even keep the new faith out of his own palace and household where the saints are found and from whence they send greetings. His edicts become more and more inoperative, because they often fall into the hands of officers who are themselves Christians. Finally it is found vain longer to resist, and the great empire becomes Christian in form as it already was in fact. As to the method used in this age of marvels—it was plainly that of martyr missions. There was no edifice in Jerusalem called the missionary building of the Nazarenes, nor was there any session of a committee on missions. They had not even a treasurer of a transit fund. Thomas went to India, Bartholomew to Persia, and Peter to Rome, with no promise of support. They depended on their own labors, on the gratitude of those to whom they ministered, on the gifts of friends, and always on the providence of God. The apostle to the Gentiles insisted on supporting himself by the labor of his own hands. Others depended for the supply of their necessities on the churches which everywhere sprung up. In those days every believer was required to be a missionary. His first great duty was to testify for Christ. Christian sailors, soldiers, and merchants, wherever duty called them or persecution drove them, were expected to speak boldly for the new faith. To refrain from this was not only a sin, but a sin which it was currently believed had never forgiveness. Hence John was on the Isle of Patmos "for the word of God and the testimony of Jesus Christ." Peter confessed before the council that he "could not but speak of the things which he had seen and heard." Phebe became "a servant of the church in Cenchrea." Priscilla and Aquila were "helpers in Christ Jesus," even to the extent of "laying down their necks" for him. Mary "bestowed much labor." Andronicus and Junia were "fellow-prisoners of note." Triphena and Tryphosa "labored much in the Lord." Timothy "endured hardship as a good soldier." Onesiphorus made a journey to Rome to succor an imprisoned apostle, of whose chain he was not ashamed, while Paul, facile princeps, was "in labors more abundant, in stripes above measure, in prisons more frequent, in death oft," constrained by a mighty love which led him ever on to the regions beyond, as an engine is kept throbbing by its furious fires. The spirit of the entire movement was that which actuates all true missionaries, but the method was peculiarly that of martyr missions. Here was an example of self-supporting missions, where the result not only corresponded with, but exceeded, the expectations of the projectors.
Mission Fields.
"Cast thy bread upon the waters; for thou shalt find it after many days."—Eccl. 11:1.
IMMANUEL.
By C. E. W.
Of all the precious names our Saviour bears,
Immanuel is the dearest;
On the ear it falls
Like a sweet message from those distant spheres,
Unknown to pain, unseen through tears.
"God with us." Of a time it seems to tell
When weary toil,
And sinful strife as well,
Must pass away. Then shall the stricken earth
Receive the blessing promised at her birth.
"Immanuel's Land" her name. They who enter there
Are healed of many a scar
And every tear-stained battle mark
Where they have met the foe. Past is all fear.
In that fair land there is no death, no sin, no tear.