Prof. T. O. Crawford, superintendent of schools for Alameda County, Cal., has written an able article for distribution at the St. Louis Exposition. It is designed to set forth the advantages of the schools of the county, but the following extract is of such general application that it is worthy of general consideration:—
Character is the end of education. Building character is the work of education. Society as it exists to-day, is the product of right and wrong. Wrong is right—twisted.
Wrong, in many cases, arises from ignorance. A better knowledge of right would have made a better standard in society. Children often do wrong because of ignorance. They are now suffering, not for their sin, but from ignorance. We do not blame such. They were unfortunate through lack of knowledge. If the right be not known, how shall the wrong be avoided? How shall the right be known, if not taught? The duty of teaching the right is more imperative than that of teaching to avoid the wrong. The one forms character, which wills and does the right, the other urges against the wrong. Formation of character takes away the necessity of re-formation of habit.
The teacher is the antithesis of the jailor. If there is a building force of right, opposed to the destructive force of wrong, it is the duty of every teacher to lend a hand in putting that force of right into operation. Every influence emanating from the teacher should be one of construction, hence we assign to such the duty of teaching the facts and laws of right conduct.
It is true that instruction does not, immediately, change mental states; but where right, or twisted right, is to be the result of that which surrounds one, it becomes the duty of those who, in a large measure, make the surroundings, to see that these shall “build up for righteousness.” The teacher is the most potent factor in character building. What “teacher says” is final. The influence of dress, of speech, of voice, of carriage, of manner, is of transcendent importance. The minds of the pupils are like the sensitive plates in the camera, on which the object is imaged with wonderful accuracy. If the teacher would see gentleness, she must be gentle; if she would teach punctuality, she must be on time; if she would see the plant of patience, she must sow the seed.
Children must not only be taught what is right, but they must also do what is right. It is possible for teachers to breathe into a school a spirit of honor, usefulness, and honesty that shall control every new pupil that enters the school. This spirit will put down vulgarity, slang, profanity, impurity, slander, tattling, lying, and meanness.
Character is formed by training and by teaching. Bad habits can be changed only by a repetition of right sayings and of right doings, and it is in these that training consists.
There are two points which are worthy of further consideration by the thoughtful:—
1. It is a sad thing that it should be said “the teacher is the most potent factor in character building.” We are not disputing Professor Crawford; this may be so, but ’tis sad ’tis so. Where are the mothers and fathers whose influence should be strong enough to mould and hold the child, and to mould and rear the teachers of to-day? It is inexpressibly sad that the greater part of the work of moral training, the greatest need in character building, must be left to the teacher.
2. It is even more inexpressibly sad when so many of these teachers are, by insinuation and suggestion and positive teaching, breaking down the very foundations of moral conduct,—faith in the religion of the Bible—Christianity. Take away the religious basis, and you take away the moral basis. The artificial, esthetic ethics may remain like beautiful ferns and flowers in frost work, but the fierce heat of temptation will melt them, and human nature, as restrained by vital faith in a God of love and righteousness and justice and mercy, will fail and fall as it has always failed and fallen under the merely ethical systems of the past.
There are earnest Christian teachers yet, many of them, we are constrained to believe, who, like Mr. Crawford, prefer a righteous character to a brilliant intellect. But the trend of popular education is downward in faith, in the Bible and Christianity, and therefore the trend is downward morally.
PECULIAR YOKEFELLOWS.
AGITATORS for laws to protect and promote Sunday sacredness frequently get themselves into peculiar situations by the methods which they use to bring about their object. The New York Times recently published the following item from one of its correspondents: “Last year, during a Sunday baseball controversy in one of the western cities, the mayor was waited upon by a committee of ministers urging him, of course, to prohibit ball-playing on Sunday. The mayor listened to their argument, and in replying, said: ‘I was waited upon yesterday, gentlemen, by another committee urging me to stop Sunday baseball—a committee of saloon-keepers, who complained that Sunday baseball hurt their business.’”
It was an embarrassing situation for the ministerial advocates of baseball suppression. If the mayor yielded to their plea, he would be increasing the business of the liquor men, and they would be particeps criminis. If their plea were not granted, they would feel that there was something lost from the Sunday-sacredness work, and they might be held responsible for that. And yet what would be gained to any good cause by compelling some one to spend a part of a day in one place of worldly pleasure rather than in another, is difficult for a layman to understand. The only logical thing for the ministerial committee to have done, if it were going to appeal for any kind of legislation upon the subject, would have been to have sought to do what the early Catholic Church did do, and that is, secure a law to compel the people to attend church. This would have been logical even if it did contravene the rights of men. The ministerial committee was not yet ready to go quite that far, and so were thrown into the illogical position of really aiding the business of the saloon-keeper, while they accomplished nothing for church attendance.
The incident shows, as the Sabbath Recorder well remarks, “how deeply the liquor traffic is interested in Sunday as a holiday. Since Sunday is the frequently-recurring holiday of the masses, the liquor traffic is vitally interested in whatever affects leisure on that day.” The people who would attend the Sunday baseball game are generally the people who would attend some other place of worldly pleasure if the baseball game were prohibited. So to prevent their going to a baseball game, while the saloons are open, and they have no desire to attend church, accomplishes nothing. To obviate the difficulty, they have sought to close the saloons on Sunday. But while closing the saloons on Sunday and leaving them open the rest of the week, they have given them an air of respectability and legal sanction, which also helps them in their business. Neither have they decreased the sales of liquor for the week by so doing; for those who will have liquor will lay in a supply to drink on Sunday. So the promoters of Sunday-sacredness, while decreasing the liquor sales little, if any at all, have given to the saloon-keeper a standing which it did not have before.
There is nothing good gained for any cause that must compel adherence to its principles. There is nothing gained to the cause of Christ in any way by laws that compel men to act what they do not feel, to appear religious when at heart they are hungering for the pleasures of this world.
SUNDAY LEGISLATION.
From a leaflet now being circulated in Canada, in opposition to a proposed Sunday law, we take the following pertinent remarks by Mr. George B. Thompson, of Hamilton, Ont.:—
The parallel between the present agitation for Sunday laws, and that of the fourth century, when church and state were united, and the foundation laid for the worst persecution that ever cursed the earth, is an exceedingly striking one. The famous Sunday law, enacted by the pagan emperor Constantine in A. D. 321, commanding that the “venerable day of the sun” be observed in the cities and villages, was, the “Encyclopedia Britannica” informs us, the first Sunday law ever issued. Then other laws followed, and in Neander’s church history we read: “By the law of the year 386 those older changes effected by the Emperor Constantine were more rigorously enforced; and, in general, civil transactions of all kinds on Sunday were strictly forbidden. Whoso transgressed was to be considered, in fact, as guilty of sacrilege.”
The people being forbidden by law to work, of course began to play, and an idle brain is the devil’s workshop. Enforced idleness caused the people to congregate more to the theater and circus on Sunday, than to church, which was not very satisfactory to the clergy, who desired that they go to church. Many of the professed Christians of that time had a religion only in form, and they, too, went to the theater and the circus. The result was that the theater was full, and the church pews were empty. Something must be done; for Neander tells us that, “church teachers were, in truth, often forced to complain that in such competition the theater was vastly more frequented than the church.” The church, having lost the power of God through an illicit connection with the state, was too weak to cope with a circus, so she must have help. But instead of petitioning the God of the universe, they sent a petition to the emperor, asking, so Neander tells us, “that the public shows might be transferred from the Christian Sunday, and from feast days to some other day of the week.” Think of this! They had no objection to a theater or a circus, providing it was not held on Sunday! And the eminent historian quoted above says, “In this way the church received help for the furtherance of her ends.” And the dreary ages which followed, when men were tortured by every conceivable means that men could invent, tells the terrible sequel of this step. The last step is in the first. They differ in degree only.
It is for this reason that we oppose all legislation upon religious matters. It is that the ship of state may not be wrecked upon the rocks which she will inevitably meet if steered in this direction, that we call attention to these things. All religious legislation is wrong, and will lead to the same dire results now as in the past.
THE WAR IN THE ORIENT.
The latest news from the scene of hostilities in the East shows that there has been a great battle fought on the Liao Tung peninsula, in which the Japanese succeeded in driving the Russians from every position. The country in this vicinity was mountainous, and every point of vantage was fortified by the Russians, while the infantry were protected by extensive rifle-pits. In the first assaults by the Japanese, every man in the attacking force was shot down before reaching the rifle-pits, in front of which barbed-wire entanglements had been placed by the Russians. The Japanese finally carried the heights and captured seventy Russian cannons, but in doing so, lost 3,500 men in killed and wounded. The Russian casualties are placed at 2,000. The victors followed the retreating Russians far on the road toward Port Arthur. The energy of the Japanese will now be concentrated on the last-named place, which they expect to capture early in June. The second reverse to Russian arms has had a depressing influence upon the Russian people, who are now beginning to realize that Port Arthur itself must soon fall.
The first Japanese army is still in close touch with the Russian force in the vicinity of Liao Yang. There is constant skirmishing between small Russian and Japanese outposts, ambushments of patrols, etc., but neither of the chief commanders seems quite ready to risk the great battle for which the world has been looking. In the meantime Japan is mobilizing her third army at Hiroshima. When this lands in Manchuria, there will be stirring developments. The great victory of the Japanese on the Liao Tung peninsula has virtually given them the Russian port of Dalny, which will be used as a base of operations against Port Arthur. Russian officials are now blaming Great Britain and America for Russia’s embarrassments in the East.
The French Chamber of Deputies, after a spirited discussion on the matter of the withdrawal of the French ambassador from the Vatican, decided, by a vote of 427 to 95, to sanction the government’s course in recalling the ambassador. Several measures of a more drastic nature were proposed by the more radical element, but the foreign minister and the premier counselled against them, and they were voted down. The premier made the following statement regarding the ambassador’s recall: “The recall of M. Nisard means that we will not allow the Papacy to intermeddle in our international relations, and that we intend to have done, once for all with the superannuated fiction of temporal power, which disappeared thirty-four years ago. We will not withdraw the whole staff accredited to the Vatican, as we are bound by the concordat to maintain at the Vatican an agent of our government for the carrying on of business. We can not suppress the embassy and concordat by our own authority, for that right belongs to the chambers.” The speech of the premier and foreign minister clearly showed that it was the intention of the government gradually to work toward the denouncing of the concordat and completely separating the church and state.
The report of the British Royal Commission on the volunteer and militia forces practically recommends conscription as the only means of providing a home defense army adequate for the protection of the country in the absence or partial absence of the regular troops. The commissioners are of the opinion that the principles adopted by all the other European states must be largely adopted by Great Britain. The British nation has long opposed any move of this kind; but, in view of the preparations which the other nations are making for war, England feels unsafe without a mighty reserve army.
The Turkish force of 12,000 regulars and 16,000 Kurds continues its devastating work in the mountains of Armenia. Reliable information from the district in which this force has been operating shows that forty-three villages have been burned and their inhabitants murdered. The male Armenians are said to have offered a desperate resistance on the summit of Mount Antok. These depredations are to be made a matter of inquiry in the French Chamber of Deputies.
The government has taken the first steps toward assuming control of all wireless telegraph stations on the coast of the United States. This move is considered necessary to the safety of the country in time of war, as it is feared that stations might be set up by private parties which would communicate with vessels of an enemy off the coast.
A delegation of 43 of the most prominent men of the Philippines arrived in San Francisco on May 27 on their way to the World’s Fair at St. Louis, Mo. They constitute the Philippine Commission to the fair. All are holding high positions in the civil, legal, and commercial service in the islands.
The forces of the San Domingan Government at Esperanza have met defeat at the hands of the rebels. All the ammunition and supplies of the government forces fell into the hands of the insurgents. The latter are preparing to attack another government force.
The British expedition in Tibet is now isolated, its line of communications having been broken by the natives. The expedition is awaiting re-enforcements, which are being hurried forward. When they arrive the British force will push on to Lhasa, the capital.
Venezuela, a Catholic country, has just expelled twelve Spanish monks who came there from the Philippines. The action of the government was taken on the ground that the policy of the monks was incompatible with the tendency of modern society.
Mount Pelee, the great Martinique volcano, which destroyed 30,000 lives on May 8, 1902, is reported to have been in active operation again on May 8 of this year. Seismic disturbances were observed in other islands of the group on the same day.
The famous political leader of Pennsylvania, Matthew Stanley Quay, known for years as a “boss” in state and national politics, died at his home in Beaver, Penn., on May 28.
The Presbyterian General Convention at Buffalo has decided to raise $12,000,000 with which to endow Presbyterian colleges, especially the weaker ones in the West.
Yazoo City, Miss., has suffered the visitation of a fire which resulted in the loss of property valued at $2,000,000. Martial law has been proclaimed there.
The revolutionists of Uruguay have met defeat at the hands of the government troops, the former losing 80 men killed and 200 wounded.
A STRIKING COMPARISON.
FROM the sermon of the moderator of the Presbyterian General Assembly, recently held in Buffalo, N.Y., we take this picture of present-day conditions:—
The French Revolution was a growth. It came from the swelling of life—a life that shattered feudalism, and overturned the throne, and broke in pieces old tyrannies and old institutionalisms, and brought clouds and darkness and desolation with it as well as light. Our masses to-day are pushing to the front, and in the push they are not stopping to concern themselves about who is elbowed aside, or what industries suffer, or what establishments go down. Of all the sovereigns on earth, I know of none more to be feared than King Demos.
Our ideals of reverence have gone down. It is awful, the liberty we take with things consecrated and venerated for ages. We laugh at everything. No position, no office, no calling, no relation in life escapes our satire. Nothing is sacred. The family, the court, the church, the highest and holiest things are made sport of. Whether it be a wedding or a funeral, an ordination or a tragedy, a birth or a baptism, we find something to grow funny over. It is the cartoon age to which we have come. With our light and jaunty air, with our flippant handling of things sacred, with our universal irreverence, we are sowing the wind and we shall reap the whirlwind. A laughing, mocking, cartooning age, an age that tends to lampooning and levitation, will soon run to the devil. A tree can not stand without roots. It must grip the solid and substantial if it is to resist the storm and keep its branches in the sky. So precisely with men and nations. If they are not rooted in profound reverence for things good and high and holy, they must go down.
King Demos (the people) is a fearful tyrant when intoxicated with the spirit of disorder, when crazed with the idea that irreverence, outlawry and destruction are a proper remedy for political and industrial wrongs. As to the true remedy, the speaker struck another chord of truth in the following expression:—
It is poor policy to attempt to clean out the well by painting the pump, or to sweeten the city's water by decorating the hydrant. Wake up the springs of justice, inspire the interior life with noble and unselfish purpose, introduce the mind of Christ, and the virus will give place to virtue, bitterness to blessing. The only remedy is the Gospel, platitudinous as the suggestion may seem. The church, like her Master, must have compassion on the multitude, must feel the sorrows and hardships which they feel, and by ways that are new, even odd and unconventional, or startling, if you please, take the cross to men of shop and mill and factory. By tent work, by open-air meetings, by gatherings in down-town halls, by the great-hearted inventiveness of a divine philanthropy—in some way or other, we must go out into the highways and hedges, out into the streets and lanes of the city, out to these struggling brethren of ours, and by a kindness that is patient and tender and persistent, compel them to hear the story of the Crucified.
A SENSIBLE DECISION.
The Methodist General Conference in session at Los Angeles has decided for the present the question of whether the questionable amusements named in the Methodist Church discipline should continue to be prohibited, or whether they should be stricken from the church’s list of prohibited amusements. A majority and minority report were brought before the conference, and an ardent debate followed. The majority report favored no change in the present prohibitions, and this carried by a vote of 441 to 188. The majority report contained the following paragraph, which is worthy of serious thought:—
Your committee declines to recommend the striking out of specified amusements from paragraph 248 of the discipline. It recommends that the following paragraph be inserted in the discipline under the chapter on special advices:—
“Amusements.—Improper amusements and excessive indulgence in innocent amusements are serious barriers to the beginning of the religious life and fruitful causes of spiritual decline. Some amusements in common use are also positively demoralizing and furnish the first easy steps to the total loss of character. We, therefore, look with deep concern on the great increase of amusements and on the general prevalence of harmful amusements, and lift up a solemn note of warning and entreaty, particularly against theater-going, dancing, and such games of chance as are frequently associated with gambling, all of which have been found to be antagonistic to vital piety, promotive of worldliness, and especially pernicious to youth.”
That these questionable amusements are increasing at so rapid a rate in spite of all that can be done to raise a standard against them, is another of those infallible indications of character deteriorations which the Word of God declares should be seen in the last days. The world is running after pleasure as never before.
HELPFULNESS IN THE HOME.
By Mrs. L. D. Avery-Stuttle
BY MRS. L. D. AVERY-STUTTLE.
“Bear ye one another’s burdens, and so fulfil the law of Christ.”
Where gentleness and love exist in the home, there will undoubtedly be the spirit of loving helpfulness. Willie will not allow mother to bring that pail of water, or father to carry that armful of wood. “Aren’t your arms tired, Willie?” “Yes’m, a little; but they will get rested ever so much quicker than older ones; what are my arms good for, if not to bring wood and water for mother?”
We have perhaps all heard of the young girl who had a habit of seating herself at the piano on washing days and playing that beautiful old song, “What Is Home without a Mother?” while her mother kept time to the music with the rub-a-dub-dub of the washtub.
I said it was a beautiful song, and it is; the sentiment is sweet and true,—but it could not have sounded sweet under those circumstances. I dare say the young woman’s voice was not soft or beautiful; because, you know, selfishness will mar the most perfect face, and spoil the sweetest voice in the world.
How shall we cultivate real helpfulness in the home circle?—Simply by cultivating love and usefulness. There can be no rule laid down which will be appropriate for all households upon all occasions, except the rule of love.
Jennie came home from school one night almost ready to cry over her sums. “O, I never can do them, mama, I most know I can’t,” wailed the little student. To poor Jennie the study of numbers was the one trial of her life.
“Well, why don’t you cry, crybaby?” called Brother Harry, mockingly. Harry was older than she, and arithmetic was his delight.
“O, please do help me, Harry, just this once; I’ve tried so hard, and Miss Warren says I must bring them all done to-morrow.” But Master Harry was in a selfish mood to-night, and would listen to nothing.
“What’s the matter, sissy? maybe I can help you; I’m not so very good in figures myself, but I’ll help you if I can.”
“O Willie! I never thought of you,—thank you, little brother.”
“I’m so bad in figures, I’ve been studying pretty hard lately, and so maybe—”
“But you’re not bad in disposition, my son,” interrupted their mother, “if you are slow in figures.”
In half an hour the puzzle was solved, and two very happy children sat down to dinner. Harry looked rather uncomfortable when mama asked Jennie if Willie had been any help to her, but he said nothing.
“Willie always helps me,” declared Jennie, “even if he don’t do any more than to say, ‘It’s too bad!’”
“I don’t see how that can help you any!” interrupted Harry gruffly.
“My son,” replied Mrs. Black gravely, “sympathy always helps. Suppose when you came in the other evening, Harry, with your fingers badly cut, I had not given you a word of sympathy, and suppose Willie and Jennie had refused to do your evening chores. There is a verse of scripture which I wish you would not only learn, but put in practise;” and Mrs. Black placed her hand on Harry’s curly head, and slowly repeated: “Bear ye one another’s burdens, and so fulfil the law of Christ.”
Ah! the law of Christ is a law of love, and love is the fulfilling of that law.
Not only should we bear one another’s physical burdens, but we should not be indifferent to each other’s grief, or sorrow, or spiritual anxieties. The law of love requires us to bear the infirmities of them that are weak.
“My girls were all boys,” declared a frail little woman, “and so I determined that they should learn to do the work of girls.”
“That is right,” say I; and when I meet these same boys in the kitchen, with sleeves rolled up, and a clean apron on, helping mother with the dishes, or mixing the bread, or stirring up cake, there is not the slightest embarrassment on their part or mine. I am so glad—and I am not backward in telling them so—glad that they are so willing and so strong. I tell them that the knowledge they are acquiring will come very handy in after-life. I am glad to see them so willing to be helpful, even if they would a thousand times rather be doing work that requires an outlay of more of that manly muscle of which they are so proud.
But if it is a good thing for the boys to learn to do the work of the house, and not to scorn doing it, neither should the girls be above learning how to do the work ordinarily allotted to their brothers.
As I write, I am thinking of a sweet girl acquaintance. Her life since childhood has been spent on the farm,—the home of the kindly old couple who adopted the motherless waif; but well have they been repaid. Are their horses to be harnessed, and vegetables drawn to market? Kitty is on hand,—and a trustworthy market-man she is. Are there cows to be milked, and chores to be done at the barn? Kitty’s nimble fingers and willing hands are called into service. Are these hands brown and hard with the daily toil?—Yes, a little,—but I call them beautiful; and if ever the time comes when Kitty gives her heart, and these same brown little hands into the keeping of any, I sincerely trust he may be a good man; for, believe me, he will have won a treasure.
Girls and boys, young men and young women, do not make the foolish mistake of thinking that hard work of any kind is incompatible with true refinement and education. Scorn not the hands that are brown with the toil of helpfulness—those calloused hands are as beautiful in the sight of heaven as those which are decked with gold and diamonds—yea, more so, I believe.
Then, be helpful. “Lend a hand” is the old motto,—and a good one it is. Don’t begrudge the outlay of a little muscle; it will do you good. Watch for opportunities to help lift the load of some poor fellow creature, and, believe me, your own burdens will grow lighter in proportion as you lighten those of your brother.
AMERO, THE FAMINE BOY.
By M. D. H. Lee
In the land of the brave Rajputs, the warrior race of India, lived a little boy. He was a bright, happy, affectionate child by nature, and loved his father and mother, brothers and sisters, as other boys do. His father was a shepherd. And Amero, for that is his name, often watched his father's sheep in the broad fields about them. To be sure, their home was but a thatched hut made of mud, with floor and walls of the same. The bed was hard, his food coarse, and he had never seen a school, neither had he ever heard of the true God, for his people worshiped idols. Just outside their door was the god of stone, under the tree which was the family shrine, where Amero's mother had led him since a child, with the offerings of flowers and grain, teaching him, who knew not why, to worship the cold, dumb image before him. If sickness or sorrow came into their little home, then the god was supposed to be angry, and must be appeased by some special gift or sacrifice.
But Amero's mother, tho a heathen woman, loved her boy. Dark days came to this home, as they did to all the homes of the land. The heavens became brass and refused to give rain. The hot sun, over whose face never came a cloud, baked the parched earth until all the living green became dry stubble. The sheep died, the grain of the past year was exhausted. The devoted father denied himself to feed his children. They sacrificed to the idol under the tree; still help came not. Their stock of food became less and less, until none was left. They gathered roots and every possible eatable thing, and grew thinner and fainter. Finally one brother sickened and died, then another. An older sister, too faint to rise, slowly sank away. The father soon followed, his strong frame yielding to the power of hunger, and the fever of famine soon dried up the last spark of life. These only were left, Amero, his mother, and a little sister.
One day a herald passed through the village, telling the suffering ones that the king had commanded a bianna (a grain merchant) in a certain center to deal out to the starving ones parched peas and grain, but the news had come too late to many. Amero looked out of his wild, hungry eyes upon his mother, who no longer could rise, but what could he do, and the sister, too, so little and weak. The mother answered the inquiring gaze and said: “My son, you can still walk, leave us and go and get food; if not for us, eat yourself and live. Go, and the gods be merciful to you.” He sadly bade them farewell and started on that long search after food. He was joined by many another starving boy, and men and women, desperate with the pangs of hunger. They wandered from place to place, eating the barks of trees, seeds of grass, and leaves, but growing weaker every day, until, dropping down by the roadside, Amero thought he must surely die, as many were doing all about him. To his despair he was roused by a kind voice which said, “Come with me, and a missionary lady will give you food. Come.” It was a Bible woman who had been sent out in search of starving ones. Amero raised himself from the ground, hope took possession of his heart, and new strength seemed to come into his weary, wasted limbs, as he rose and followed the kind woman. She brought him, and others, into a large compound, where soon there was dealt out to them small quantities of bread, baked like large buckwheat cakes. How greedily they snatched the food from the hands of the giver! In a day or two the missionary lady appeared and said to Amero:— “Do you want to leave this sad country and go with these other boys to Calcutta, where some missionaries will give you a home, plenty of food and clothes, and send you to school?” He thought of freedom from want and suffering, and then of the bare little hut, where lay his mother and little sister so far away, and he so weak. The lady continued: “If you remain here you will die. There is no water nor food, and no hope of rain for many days. Come along.”11
He consented, and left his country, but his heart was still with the suffering mother and sister whom he was so unable to help.
After three weary days of travel, sick and faint, he reached his new home. He was in the midst of wholesome food, and plenty of pure water. The refreshing bath revived him, and clean new clothes took the place of the filthy rags. He also heard of a God, a loving Father, who cared for all, but who was angry with the wicked every day. His heart still ached as he sat and thought of the dear ones starving in the homeland. Soon he became strong and well and happy in his new home. Five months after there came a new lot of starving children and women from his famine-stricken country.
Amero walked from group to group, asking them from what village they had come, longing for a word from his own home, when suddenly his eye fell upon a dirty bundle of rags in the midst of a group of women and children. There was a wild cry of joy as the little weak creature from out of the bundle stretched her puny arms towards him. Could it be? Had God heard? Yes; it was his sister, and soon they were locked in each other's arms, and tears of joy were streaming down their faces. They mingled their tears for a while, too happy to speak. Amero longed to know of his mother, yet feared the answer. Soon he ventured the question:— “Where is mother?” “Mother died soon after you had gone,” she said, “and I left her in the hut and came away with a band of other children, trying to find you. I was sick with small-pox, and lay very ill and weak, but some one carried me to a relief camp, and from there, as soon as I was strong enough, I went in search of you. But I got too weak and hungry, and, as I came to the station, hoping some one would give me food, I heard a lady putting into a car a number of starving children, and promising them food and a nice home. I did not know where they were going, but I said to her, ‘I am starving; take me, too,’ and, just as the train was moving away, she snatched me into the car. But how did you come here, brother?”
Amero was heard to say to the other boys that night after prayers:— “I know this God we have heard about is the true God, for it was He who brought me here and spared my life, and let me hear about Him; and then, five months afterwards, He brought my little sister to me. And I intend to serve this God as long as I live.” Amero, a few weeks later, asked to be baptized, saying he wished to be a Christian boy and live for God, who had so wonderfully saved him.— M. D. H. Lee.
“HOPE DEFERRED.”
By Henry W. Jessup
BY HENRY W. JESSUP.
Be patient, weary one; His ways are not as thine.
His mills grind slowly.
Yet if He mark the sparrow’s fall, much more He
seeth thine,
He thinketh on the lowly.
Wait patiently for Him; eternal are His plans,
And thee He useth.
The Master Workman will not break His tools,
Yet thee He bruiseth?
Still trust in Him; thy prayer unanswered seemeth?
But it was heard.
And shall be answered—lo! the promise gleameth
Clear in His Word.
Then wait and trust—so shall He give to thee
Thy heart’s desire.
Tho He defer it till thy gold’s refined
In cleansing fire.
—Christian Work.
Treat the Body Well
“The body has its claims,—it is a good servant; treat it well, and it will do your work; . . . attend to its wants and requirements, listen kindly and patiently to its hints, occasionally forestall its necessities by a little indulgence, and your consideration will be repaid with interest. But task it and tire it and suffocate it, and make it a slave instead of a servant, and, altho it may not complain much, yet, like the weary camel in the desert, it will lie down and die.”
SMILING HIS WAY.
By Emma A. Lente
[Emma A. Lente, in Christian Advocate.]
The time had been long and weary since Stanley Miller had received his accident.
For many weeks it seemed that he could hardly stir, or, if he did, that he must remain a cripple; but at last there was hope, indeed, almost a certainty, that sometime he might be well.
O, what pathetic patience children have under suffering that would daunt men! And Stanley had scarcely murmured; only, as his head cleared, and his eyes brightened, the blank brick wall of the next house, which was all he could see from his bedroom window, became very tiresome.
At last his mother, so tender in love and sympathy, moved his bed into her little parlor, and placed it by a window.
O, how good the street looked to the boy! His heart seemed to fill and glow with love for every person, and even the horses and dogs, that passed his window.
“But, mama,” he said after a time, “the people can see me, too, and they turn and look, and look so sorry for me. I don’t want to make folks feel bad, mama!”
“My dear, they can’t help feeling sorry for a boy who has to be shut in from all the bright summer weather; but if they see that you look cheerful and smiling, that will make them glad again. You have been so good and patient all along, dearie, that it has made the trouble easier for us all.”
And so the passer-by who looked in the window of the little house on Dean Street saw the smiling face of a child who lay bolstered up on his pillows; and soon many of them gave him an answering smile and nod.
“I'm getting to know the folks,” said Stanley, after a while.
The Millers had only moved on that street a few months before, and had made but few acquaintances.
“I know just what time the regular ones go by, mama. It's fun to watch for 'em, an' they most always smile at me.”
At last, when the days grew warm enough for the sash to be raised, one and another would stop outside for a word or so, and gifts of fruit and flowers and picture papers were passed inside.
The children came and talked to the invalid, and lent him their toys and books; and the hurdy-gurdy men played their most rollicking tunes for his pleasure.
The new Pacific Press Building at Mountain View, from a snap shot taken by the editor May 25, 1904. The front and east walls are shown. It will be seen that the brick work on the building is nearly completed. The trees to the right are in the rear of the building, just beyond the railway.
Stanley never dreamed that his smiling face was a real help to others; but one morning a carpenter said to a comrade: “I used to go grumbling to my work on account of being a little lame with rheumatiz, but since I've seen him a-layin' there so cheerful, I've been ashamed of myself, and am thankful that I'm able to walk, an' do my day's work. The little chap's been a real blessin' to me!”
When at last the bed was taken away, and the boy could sit on the steps or go a little way up and down the street, he found that he had smiled his way into hundreds of loving hearts.
