Earlier text: Samuel and the Witch of Endor; Or, the Sin of WitchcraftRemember Your Vows.
By A. P. Van Horn
“When thou shalt vow a vow unto the Lord thy God thou shalt not slack to pay it, for the Lord thy God will surely require it of thee, and it would be sin in thee.” Such was one of the Lord’s statutes recorded in Deut. 23 : 21. This instruction was by Bible writers, often repeated. It was a very solemn act to make vows unto the Lord, or in the presence of his people. It is still a custom of those who profess to love the Lord, when they enter his service, and as they pass on in their pilgrimage, to make vows unto God. It seems to be a duty, when under conviction of sin, and a pleasure when the sweet blessing of heaven rests on the soul. But how often the case, that many, who profess to renounce the world for Christ’s sake, forget their true source of strength, and fail to properly equip themselves from the armory of heaven. And when thus brought in contact with evil influences the power of the foe is too strong—they fail to overcome, carelessness steals over them, and ere they are aware of it they are destitute of their first love. But on being brought under the reproving influence of the Spirit of God they resolve anew to walk in the light. When the church assemble to exhort one another according to the divine command, these, instead of bearing an enlivening testimony, suffer under a sense of remorse over broken vows. Their feelings are moved to tenderness under manifestation of divine love and mercy, and once more they gather strength to form new resolutions. A course of continual backsliding destroys self-confidence and weakens the faith. A life-time spent in sinning and repenting, backsliding and confessing, may at last prove a sad failure. Before a person can fight successfully in the Christian warfare he must put on the whole armor as the apostle Paul describes in Eph. 6 : 13–18, and thus equipped he will “be able to stand against all the wiles of the devil.” God’s people are always glad to welcome back the erring. Our Lord is ever merciful, and is continually inviting us to draw nigh unto him, yet he has taught us that we should not be wavering and double-minded nor trifle with sacred things. And now gentle reader—a word with you. Have you ever made vows unto God? When you heard the claims of his law presented did you say, My course of life shall be changed? Have you been in perilous situation at sea, and did you say then in your mind, Lord bring me safely to land and I will serve thee? Or have you been on a sick bed with the terrors of death staring you in the face, while the thoughts of neglected opportunities seemed like so many thorns in your pillow? Did you say then, Lord raise me up to health and I will walk before thee in newness of life? Whatever the vow was, it was by heaven recorded. Let us each so live that we may at the final judgment have it said that we have fulfilled our vows and done what we could. For again we read from the sacred word, “When thou vowest a vow unto God, defer not to pay it; for he hath no pleasure in fools; pay that which thou hast vowed. Better is it that thou shouldst not vow, than that thou shouldst vow and not pay.” Eccl. 5 : 4, 5. The Presence of Those We Love
At all times, in this wintry life the presence of those we love is like a gleam of sunshine through the clouds, lighting up one particular spot amid the shadows, and giving luster and warmth and loveliness to all beneath the ray. The passing gleam still seems brighter than the full sunshine. THE memory of good deeds is the starlight of the soul. “For our Learning.”
By Joseph Harvey Waggoner
“And they spake unto Moses, saying, The people bring much more than enough for the service of the work which the Lord commanded to make.” Ex. 36:5. To appreciate this example of cheerfulness in giving, several points must be noticed:— 1. The gold, silver, and other precious articles they were required to bring, must have been that which they received of the Egyptians when they left Egypt. Ex. 12:35, 36. It was all they received for their life-long, cruel bondage. 2. They were as yet homeless—journeying to a land of which they knew nothing, and of which they had little or no idea, except that derived from the promise of God. 3. And of course they had then no means of gain—no income upon which they could depend for the future. 4. Reasoning from probabilities, they would greatly need many of the articles they were required to offer, when they took possession of their new homes in Canaan. 5. An entire uncertainty hung over them in regard to the length and vicissitudes of the journey upon which they had entered. And the order given to Moses was, to take only of such as offered willingly with his heart. Ex. 25:2. We often read, with great surprise, of the many instances of their distrust of God, and their murmuring against his providence. Yet, according to their circumstances, their trust and consecration will compare very favorably with ours. 1. We have had evidence constantly accumulating, of the faithfulness of God’s promises concerning our future inheritance. 2. The things which we are required to offer here, will be of no use whatever to us when we enter the promised land. 3. On the contrary, all the benefit we can derive from our worldly substance there, is secured only by our consecrating and devoting it to the cause of God here. Luke 12:33. 4. If we are correct in our expositions of prophecy, (and who can doubt it?) much of that which is counted of most value now, will cease to be of any value to us before the time of deliverance comes; that is, before our future inheritance is given to us. Rev. 13:17. 5. And much of the substance now in the hands of the church of God, has come into their possession with comparatively little effort on their part; some, by inheritance or other providences over which they have no control, or in which they have no direct agency. Had the children of Israel been situated as we are, in these respects, we should doubtless be quick to detect a wonderful lack of “the spirit of sacrifice” in their offerings. And yet when we consider all their “tithes and offerings,” under all their varied circumstances, we must admit that if our recognition of divine authority, and of divine blessings, is to be measured by our obedience and consecration, we fall far behind the Israelites, whether we view them as wanderers in the desert, or as dwellers in the land of Palestine. Many who think the Bible system of tithing is oppressive, and regard it with as much distrust as if it were a compulsory tax, seem to forget the many offerings in addition to their tithes. Reading the Bible, and looking at the past and present, we must confess to a great change somewhere, on these subjects; if it is not in God (see James 1:17,) then it must be in man. Will the teachings of the Bible sustain the change? J. H. WAGGONER. DANVERS.—Elder Stone writes: “The frame of our house of worship is up, and the work goes bravely on. Last Sunday another minister three miles out, spoke against the Sabbath, and the Methodist minister here preached against us on the sleep of the dead. These I reviewed at our hall. The friends are more firmly settled in the truth at every move. Elder Robinson has been with us, and helped during the past week, and Elder Canright returned yesterday, October 3.” Waterloo.—Elder Sanborn reports having held twelve meetings with the church in this place. This church numbers sixty-six members, and forty-two responded to their names on the Sabbath. Some were not able to be present, but were heard from. As the plain obligations of the word of God were set before them the Spirit of the Lord came into their midst, and confessions were made, which always opens the way for the Spirit of the Lord to work. The word took effect upon the unconverted. Eight were baptized and united with the church. Many others are convinced of the truth, and almost persuaded to obey. Comstock School-House.—Brother S. S. Smith writes: “Two weeks ago this evening we commenced meetings here. Have spoken fifteen times. By the blessing of God, as the result of our labors so far, thirteen have decided for God and his Sabbath. Many more are interested, and are searching to see if these things are so.” Sac City.—Brethren G. V. Kilgore and Hart report: “Meetings closed here Sunday night, September 30. About twenty have commenced to keep the Sabbath. No public opposition was raised till just as we left; then a first-day Adventist spoke twice on the covenants. He said there was nothing against hatred, or malice, or drunkenness, in the old covenant; that love was not commanded there; and that there was no Christ in it. His ‘old covenant’ was the law of Moses, ten commandments included. And his statements were easily shown to be flat contradictions of the Bible,—of Luke 10:25–28; Deut 6:5; Lev. 19:16–18; Deut. 29:19, 20. He did not want to talk any longer on the subject, he said, for it would be controversy! Good was done even by him. May God be praised for his plain truth.” MR. VERNON.—Brother Bliss writes: “We have now been in this place three weeks and three days, and have held, in all, about thirty meetings. One week ago last Sabbath, five signified a desire to become Christians and unite with the church. These were children of Sabbath-keepers who had come in from a distance to attend this meeting. Last Sabbath fourteen residing in this place arose, thus signifying their determination to hereafter keep the Sabbath. Three or four others informed me that they were keeping the Sabbath, making seventeen or eighteen residents of this place who have commenced to observe the seventh-day since we came here. We have our first baptism next week.” PEORIA.—Elder R. M. Kilgore writes: “Another very encouraging week has passed. Our congregations have increased in numbers and interest. Though I have been speaking on the Sabbath question less than a week, several have expressed their determination to obey. Some of the first families of the community are deeply interested, and are yielding to the influence of the truth. Calls for labor are coming in, which it is impossible for me to fill. The prospect here is very encouraging. Pray for us.” “I wish I had lived in those times!” exclaimed Henry Sharp, a rather enthusiastic boy, as he finished reading the account of the death of Latimer and Ridley. “Why?” inquired Mr. Severn, his tutor. “Because I should like to have been a martyr,” replied Henry slowly; “it seems such a glorious thing to die for what you believe to be right.” The opinion did not seem to be in the least shared by his school-fellows, who showed their astonishment and dissent by various gestures; some were ready to laugh, and looked towards the master, with faces expressive of their ideas of their own superior wisdom, and anticipating the rebuke that was to fall upon their comrade. But Mr. Severn was not a man to judge things hastily, or to pronounce a remark silly, and so leave it without trying to explain the matter, so he said quietly:— “Do you really think so, Henry? Do you believe that you would have courage and firmness to submit to the severe and often lingering agonies which those persecuted men endured?” “Of course I can’t be sure that I should, sir,” replied Henry; “but it seems to me that the thought of gaining heaven must be enough to sustain any one in ever so much pain.” “I can sympathize with your feelings,” continued Mr. Severn, “for I remember as a boy to have had the same idea; but as I grew older and able to understand the state of my own heart better, I came to the conclusion that I was deceiving myself. “I found out, in examining myself, that while thus longing for martyrdom as a means of gaining heaven, I was unconsciously looking upon that pain and suffering as more easy to bear than the yoke which Christ has laid upon us. Or to express myself more simply, I mean that I was really thinking I would rather submit to a cruel death than struggle daily and hourly to live as Jesus would have me live. While fancying I was wishing to give the strongest proof of my love to God, I was really shrinking from the service he had appointed me, and trying to find out an easier way for myself.” “I cannot of course tell what you feel,” continued Mr. Severn; “I only give you my own experience to guide you; but I must add further caution—martyrdom is not a certain means of entering heaven.” “Not certain!” exclaimed several of his hearers, and Henry looked particularly astonished. “I admit,” answered Mr. Severn, “that it is difficult to imagine a man willing to die for his religion, who has not a firm and saving faith in his Saviour; but that it may be the case, we have St. Paul’s own testimony,—‘Though I give my body to be burned, and have not charity, it profiteth me nothing.’” “Many have tried to find out paths that please them better than God’s narrow way. You remember the history of Naaman the Syrian. He went to Elisha to be cured of his leprosy, and willing, as subsequent events proved, to do a great deal to get cured of his fearful and loathsome malady; but when the prophet sent out the message to him to go and dip seven times in the river Jordan, the very simplicity of the means to be employed offended him. If he had been told to undertake some weary pilgrimage, to go through some painful sufferings, no doubt he would have submitted cheerfully; but to wash in that river Jordan! his pride rebelled against it. Nay, even if he must be cured by washing, why not let it be the mightier streams of his own land, Abana and Pharpar, rivers of Damascus! Thus he argued; anything rather than what God’s prophet appointed. And we are very much like Naaman. Sin is like leprosy, and when we ask to be cured of it, we are told that there is but one means—to wash in the fountain that is opened for all sin and for all uncleanness, to rely for cleansing upon the Lamb of God, who taketh away the sin of the world. Human pride revolts against this, and would prefer a salvation which left man to ‘do some great thing’ for himself, and did not merely place him in the purifying stream humbly and confidingly like a little child. “We must not deceive ourselves but try and forget such fancies for doing some great thing, and endeavor instead to do the every-day duties that are before us. So many more are called upon to perform such deeds, than to do great things, that I believe they are fully as pleasing in the sight of God, when done from a simple desire to his glory. We do his will in striving to perform our daily duties, however trivial and simple, as he would have them done; and in believing that, let them be what they will, it is noble work, because it is what he has given us to do. In the Bible how many instances we have of those who have employed their talents well, receiving more; of men called to greater honors, or more extensive labor, when they were simply employed in attending to their every-day concerns. “A shepherd guarding his father-in-law’s flock upon Mount Horeb; a voice comes to him, and he is called to confront a powerful king, to free, by signs and wonders, an enslaved people from his unwillingly relaxed grasp, to become the leader and lawgiver of this rescued nation, and to be a favored servant of God. “Another youth, also employed in keeping sheep; the prophet sent to his father’s house, sees all his brothers, but does not find among them the chosen of the Lord. This youngest is then sent for from his humble occupation, and upon his head is poured the anointing oil, and into his heart the sanctifying grace, which gains for him that glorious title, ‘The man after God’s own heart.’” “Another man plowing with twelve yoke of oxen; Israel’s great prophet passes by and casts his mantle upon him, calling him to be his successor; yes, even to receive a double portion of the spirit which rested upon him, and he had stood fearless and alone on the side of God among the multitudes of Baal’s prophets and the prophets of the groves. “Where was Matthew when Jesus called him? At the receipt of custom. Where Peter, James, and John? At their simple craft of fishing. Was not Gideon threshing wheat when called to be a Judge of Israel? But I need not repeat any more examples; those I have quoted are sufficient to point out what I mean.” “I suppose my wish was a very foolish one,” said Henry, “and I have been deceiving myself as you suspected. I have not looked at things in the light you represent them. The view you have would make us more contented with our lot, however humble. It certainly would cause us to feel more interest in our daily duties to think that they are a part of God’s work upon earth.” “It does indeed,” answered Mr. Severn; “and to omit evident duties in order to select those we fancy would be better, is just as strange a way of showing our obedience as if you, when desired by me to prepare a page of Plato, were to bring up to the class a page of Sophocles instead. You might think it more difficult and a greater merit, but it would not be what I had given you to do. The continual sense of our being about God’s work, and of his eye seeing us, gives importance and worth to all we have to do.” Are there not many who like Henry feel that it would be a glorious thing to make some great sacrifice, who, perhaps, might find it very difficult to yield their will in very trivial matters, or to submit to the discipline of parents and teachers, forgetting that “to obey is better than sacrifice, or to hearken than the fat of rams?” It was a half holiday. The children were gathered on the green and a right merry time they were having. “Come, girls and boys,” called out Ned Graham, “let’s play hunt the squirrel.” All assented eagerly, and a large circle was formed with Ned Graham for leader because he was the largest. “Come, Susie,” said one of the boys, to a little girl who stood on one side, and seemed to shrink from joining them. “Oh, never mind her!” said Ned, with a little toss of his head, “she’s nobody, anyhow. Her father drinks.” A quick flush crept over the child’s pale face as she heard the cruel, thoughtless words. She was very sensitive, and the arrow had touched her heart in its tenderest place. Her father was a drunkard, she knew, but to be taunted with it before so many was more than she could bear; and with great sobs heaving her bosom, and hot tears filling her eyes, she turned and ran away from the playground. Her mother was sitting by the window when she reached home and the tearful face of the little girl told that something had happened to disturb her. “What is the matter, Susie?” she asked, kindly. “Oh, mother,” Susie said, with the tears dropping down her cheeks, as she hid her face in her mother’s lap, “Ned Graham said such a cruel thing about me,” and here the sobs choked her voice so that she could hardly speak; “He said I wasn’t anybody, and that father drinks.” “My poor little girl,” Mrs. Ellet said, very sadly. There were tears in her eyes, too. Such taunts as this were nothing new. “Oh, mother,” Susie said, as she lifted her face, wet with tears, from her mother’s lap, “I can’t bear to have them say so, and act just as if I had done something wicked. I wish father wouldn’t drink! Do you suppose he’ll ever leave it off?” “I hope so,” Mrs. Ellet answered, as she kissed Susie’s face where the tears clung like drops of dew on a rose. “I pray that he may break off the habit, and I can do nothing but pray, and leave the rest to God.” That night Mr. Ellet came home to supper, as usual. He was a hard-working man, and a good neighbor, so everybody said, but he had the habit of intemperance so firmly fixed upon him that everybody thought he would end his days in the drunkard’s grave. Susie kissed him when he came through the gate, as she always did, but there was something in her face that went to his heart. A look so sad, and full of touching sorrow for one so young as she! “What ails my little girl?” he asked as he patted her curly head. “I can’t tell you, father,” she answered, slowly. “Because it would make you feel bad.” Susie replied. “I guess not,” he said, as they walked up to the door together. “What is it, Susie?” “Oh, father,” and Susie burst into tears again as the memory of Ned Graham’s words came up freshly in her mind, “I wish you wouldn’t drink any more for the boys and girls don’t like to play with me, ’cause you do.” Mr. Ellet made no reply. But something stirred in his heart that made him ashamed of himself; ashamed that he was the cause of so much sorrow and misery. After supper he took his hat, and Mrs. Ellet knew only too well where he was going. At first he had resolved to stay at home that evening, but the force of habit was so strong that he could not resist, and he yielded, promising himself, that he would not drink more than once or twice. Susie had left the table before he finished his supper, and as he passed the great clump of lilacs by the path, on his way to the gate, he heard her voice and stopped to listen to what she was saying. “Oh, good Jesus, please don’t let father drink any more. Make him just as he used to be when I was a baby, and then the boys and girls can’t call me a drunkard’s child, or say such bad things about me. Please, dear Jesus, for mother’s sake and mine.” Susie’s father listened to her simple prayer with a great lump swelling in his throat. And when it was ended he went up to her, and knelt down by her side, and put his arm around her, oh, so lovingly! “God in Heaven,” he said, very solemnly, “I promise to-night, never to touch another drop of liquor as long as I live. Give me strength to keep my pledge, and help me to be a better man.” “Oh, father,” Susie cried, her arms about his neck, and her head upon his breast, “I’m so glad! I shan’t care about anything they say to me now, for I know you won’t be a drunkard any more.” “God helping me, I will be a man!” he answered, and, taking Susie by the hand, he went back into the house where his wife was sitting with the old patient look of sorrow on her face—the look that had become so habitual. I cannot tell you of the joy and thanksgiving that went up from that heartstone that night. I wish I could, but it was too deep a joy which filled the hearts of Susie and her mother to be described. Was not Susie’s prayer answered? There are two angels that attend unseen
Each one of us, and in great books record
Our good and evil deeds. He who writes down
The good ones, after every action, closes
His volume and ascends with it to God;
The other keeps his dreadful day-book open
Till sunset, that he may repent; which doing,
The record of the action fades away,
And leaves a line of white across the page. The above beautiful lines are from Longfellow's poem entitled, “The Golden Legend.” We do not know how many angels attend each of us, or just how the record is taken; yet we know a record is kept, for we read in Rev. 20:12: “And another book was opened, which is the book of life; and the dead were judged out of those things which were written in the books, according to their works.” Many years ago a man, brought before a tribunal, was told to relate his story freely and without fear, as it should not be used against him. He commenced to do so, but had not proceeded far before he heard the scratching of a pen behind a curtain. In an instant he319was on his guard, for by that sound he knew that notwithstanding their promise a record was being taken of what he said. Silently and unseen by us the angel secretaries are taking a faithful record of our words and actions, and even of our thoughts. Do we realize this? and a more solemn question, What is the record they are making? Not long ago I read of a strange list. It was an exact catalogue of the crimes committed by a man who was at last executed in Norfolk Island, with the various punishments he had received for his different offenses. It was written out in small hand by the chaplain, and was nearly three yards long. What a sickening catalogue to be crowded into one brief life. Yet this man was once an innocent child. A mother no doubt bent lovingly over him, a father perhaps looked upon him in pride and joy, and imagination saw him rise to manhood honored and trusted by his fellow-men. But the boy chose the path of evil and wrong-doing regardless of the record he was making, and finally committed an act, the penalty of which was death, and he perished miserably upon the scaffold. Dear readers, most of you are young, and your record but just commenced. Oh, be warned in time, and seek to have a list of which you will not be ashamed when scanned by Jehovah, angels, and men. Speak none but kind, loving words; have your thoughts and aspirations pure and noble; crowd into your life all the good deeds you can, and thus crowd out evil ones. Angels are now weighing moral worth. The record will soon close, either by death or the decree, “He that is unjust, let him be unjust still, and he which is filthy, let him be filthy still; and he that is righteous let him be righteous still; and he that is holy let him be holy still.” We have but one short, preparing hour in which to redeem the past and get ready for the future. Our life record will soon be examined. What shall it be! “AYE, and the race is just begun,
The world is all before me now,
The sun is in the eastern sky
And long the shadows westward lie;
In everything that meets my eye
A splendor and a joy I mind
A glory that is undesigned.”
Ah! youth attempt that path with care,
The shadow of the cross is there. “I’ve time,” he said, “to rest awhile,
And sip the fragrant wine of life,
My lute to pleasure’s halls I’ll bring
And while the sun ascends I’ll sing,
And all my world without shall ring
Like merry chiming bells that peal
Not half the rapture that they feel.”
Alas! he found but tangled moss,
Above the shadow of the cross. He turned him to the world to gain
In traffic that would give him power;
Amid its heat—amid its dust
He let his soul’s fine fibers rust,
And piled together crust on crust.
Narrowed within; but all outside,
His stretch of earth was amplified,
He rested—look’d, their charm had fled,
And left a shadow’d cross instead. “Mine be the warrior’s fame,” he cried,
“My soul is ready for the strife;”
He buckled on his armor bright,
And in the fiercest of the fight,
He won the laurels of a knight.
Men envied him and women praised;
And for a day like Sirius blazed
His star—then unto ashes waned;
And but a shadowed cross remained. He turned away—when at his side,
The real cross an angel bore,
And in its shadows rich he found,
A rest supreme—a peace profound,
And all was light and love around;
And now no longer in his way
That shadow’d cross before him lay;
“Thy will not mine,” alone maintained,
The world was crucified—heaven was gain’d. RELIGIOUS NEWS AND NOTES.
—A board of revisers have held twenty-five sessions over the Kafir Bible. —In Boston there are thirty Roman Catholic churches and chapels, and thirty-nine priests. —The hundredth anniversary of Congregationalism in Liverpool, England, was recently celebrated. —The American Board of Commissioners for Foreign Missions has increased its debt during the fiscal year just closed $17,000. —The greatest collection of Bibles of various editions ever brought together was displayed at the recent Caxton Exhibition, in London. —The Kendall County Fair Association, Michigan, offers a premium of $100, in five premiums of $30, $25, $20, $15 and $10, respectively, for the largest and best organized Sunday-school. —An exchange says: “A clergyman of the church of England has been condemned, at the age of seventy-two, to twelve months’ imprisonment, for obtaining a service of communion plate by false pretenses.” —Rev. Dr. Schneider, who recently died in Boston, was the first person, it is said, to write and preach in the Turkish language a Christian sermon. It was over forty years ago, and at Constantinople. —A strong movement was recently made in England to admit the public to the British Museum, National Gallery, and other public buildings, on Sunday. But when the question came before the House of Commons, the measure was promptly put down by a vote of 278 to 87. —The Cincinnati Catholic Telegraph says: “All the Catholic colleges, academies and parochial schools of the diocese, as far as we have learned, opened the new scholastic year with increased attendance. Obedience to the law of the church, requiring Catholic education for Catholic children, is becoming in this quarter of the world more marked and wide spread.” —The Queen of Madagascar has issued a proclamation abolishing slavery in her dominions. —In the Episcopal General Convention at Boston the collection for sufferers at Fernandina netted $552. —A severe earthquake shock was experienced at Geneva, Switzerland, on Monday morning, October 8. Some buildings were cracked, but the damage is slight. —The Spanish Government has paid the American minister $570,000 on account of claims for losses incurred by American citizens in Cuba through the revolution. —During September, seventeen hundred Chinese departed from San Francisco and two hundred arrived, four hundred going to Honolulu and thirteen hundred returning to China. —The aqueduct which carried the canal over the river at Durham, Pa., recently fell. Loss $30,000. Navigation is suspended. The village is flooded and hundreds are thrown out of employment. —It is reported that at Fernandina, Florida, where the yellow fever is raging, that the people are nearly destitute of food, and are anxiously awaiting the arrival of provisions and supplies in response to appeals for help. —France has sustained a rather serious pecuniary loss by the burning of three-fourths of the immense forests which she held in her Algerian colony. These forests occupied 200,000 acres in the province of Constantine, and 150,000 acres have been destroyed. —On the night of October 4, a violent storm passed from Cape May, on the Atlantic coast, inland about one hundred miles, and in a northeasterly direction, through Baltimore, Philadelphia and New York. Great damage was done to shipping, railroads, and everything else that came in the way. —If the northwest monsoon proves good, the India famine will end in four months. Prospects in the northwest have so much improved that the scheme of railways and other works for relief have been abandoned. Subscriptions at the Mansion House, London, for the sufferers are $1,700,000. —A disastrous fire recently occurred in the Patent Office section of the Interior Department Building at Washington. The fire fed upon over 80,000 wooden models of patents (accepted and rejected), but fortunately the original drawings were for the most part saved. The total loss is estimated at about one and a half million dollars. —There are now over 3,200 Chinamen employed on the reclamation works on Roberts Island. The steamer Clara Crow is kept constantly busy transporting and distributing provisions and tools for the men. It is safe to estimate the money expended on the island at fully a half million dollars, when the levee now being built is finished. The work is being driven at full speed.—Stockton Independent. —It is not generally known that there is quite an extensive salt lake on the top of the Tehachepi mountain. This lake is situated about six miles southwest of where the Southern Pacific railroad crosses the mountains, is difficult of access, and the salt is of not very good quality, being more or less mixed with alum, borax and other salts. Salt is being gathered from the bottom of the lake, where it lies in layers from one to six inches thick, and is shipped to San Francisco on the railroad, where it sells at $7.50 per barrel.—Visalia Delta. —After the first battle of General Miles with Joseph’s band, the troops held the hostile Indians in a deep, narrow ravine, and picked them off from rifle pits, losing only four men themselves. Joseph raised the white flag four times, offering to surrender if he might keep his guns. Miles demanded an unconditional surrender, and on the last day Joseph raised the flag again, advanced in front of the lines, handed his gun to Miles, and shook hands with him. The remainder of the command did the same. Forty wounded Indians were found in the camp. The number of dead is unknown, as all were buried. The glory of the fight rests with Miles. SOME parents are endowed, by nature, with special ability to control children, and others seem almost entirely to lack this gift. The first class even may profit by the suggestions of the more experienced and wise, and the second class, who must also bear parental responsibility, need all the more special instruction and training for this important office. The fact that insubordination is an alarming characteristic of our age and country, will not be denied. It is seen in the irreverent and unruly spirit of children in the family and in the school; in their rude, boisterous and profane language in the streets, in their truancy and crime, which have filled our reform schools and houses of correction; in the frequent rebellions in academies and colleges throughout the land; and, more than all, in the “great rebellion,” which wasted our treasures and deluged the country in fraternal blood. That all these consequences have resulted directly from parental inefficiency and mismanagement, no candid observer can doubt. Some, through their own incapacity or perverseness, have lost the power to minister at the sacred family altar. Their example and influence are wholly unfavorable to wholesome family discipline. They had been united by divine authority, and entrusted with the holy mission of moulding the character of tender childhood, but they have become divorced in spirit if not in fact. The family which should be the very paradise of harmony and earthly bliss, has become a scene of perpetual strife and turmoil. And who can estimate how large a proportion of the lawlessness, vice and crime that curse American society, results directly from this cause? If we would save and elevate our country, we must strive to harmonize, purify and enlighten the homes where our future citizens must be trained. Other parents do not attempt to govern their children, except in cases of absolute physical danger. They profess to believe that reproof and punishment result only in moroseness of disposition and perverseness of manners. Such interpositions disturb the quiet and harmony of the family, and hence, they yield to every wish and gratify every known desire of their children, to avoid the fancied evil. But such a family democracy soon resolves itself into a fearful aristocracy, in which the children are the rulers and their parents are the obedient and much abused subjects! How wise in their own estimation, arrogant, dictatorial and ill-mannered such children become, we have frequent opportunity to see. And it could not be otherwise under this perverted order of things. The divinely appointed sovereigns of the home have been deposed, and are in subjection. The natural subjects have never learned obedience to authority. Hence, the sad consequences follow, at home, in school and in society. Still other parents attempt to govern, but fail. Some in one way, some in another. The first class which are here specified are fickle. They lack firmness which is an essential element in family discipline. Their convictions are all right, and their views of government, in the main, correct; but they seem to have no power to resist the child's importunity. He craves some improper gratification, and demands indulgence. The mother promptly but kindly refuses, as she should. The child persists, because he has learned by experience, that she does not really mean no, when she says it. Why did she not teach her child that important lesson, in the beginning, and thus save herself all this trouble and annoyance? But she did not, and hence the child undertakes to reverse her decision, and with the full assurance that he can accomplish his object. It may cost a whole hour's teasing, or a “flood of tears,” or a violent fit of passion, or a spasmodic display of affection, as the case may be, but the worn and weary mother will surely yield! The contest is only a matter of time; the result is not doubtful. And what is the influence of this fickleness upon the temper and life of the child? Does he love his mother more tenderly? Is he more amiable, gentle, obedient and faithful, afterward? No; he will be even more irritable and selfish, more demanding and determined in his efforts to secure the object in view. Develop the selfish propensities of a child's nature, and his filial love will be diminished in the same proportion. The former is allowed to overgrow and cover up the latter. That mother is the most earnestly loved by her children who governs them with a firm and impartial hand, whose decision always settles the question, without controversy, and whose promises are sure of fulfillment. The second class of parents above alluded to, are impulsive and fitful. They act towards their children as they feel at the time. In their genial mood, they see no faults in them; will allow no punishments to be inflicted upon them, at home or in school, but grant them unbounded indulgence. And yet, when the fit of passion comes on, they assail and chastise them in the most unmerciful manner. These unfortunate children soon learn to enjoy the sunshine, and endure the storm, but the influence of such impulsiveness upon the temper, habits and life, is fearful. They have no confidence in the management of their parents, and they cherish for them but a limited amount of affection. They grow up ill-tempered, fretful and disobedient, wholly unfitted for the duties and responsibilities of mature life.—Sel. THERE is a magic power in gentle words, the potency of which few natures are so icy as wholly to resist. Would you have your home a cheerful, hallowed spot, within which may be found that peace and happiness and joy which the world denieth to its votaries! Let no harsh words be uttered within its walls. Speak gently to the wearied husband, who, with anxious brow, returns from the perplexities of his daily avocations; and let him, in his turn speak gently to the care-worn woman and wife, who, amid her never-ending round of little duties, finds rest and encouragement in the sympathy of him she loves. Speak gently to the wayward child; and a pleasant smile and a word will often restore good humor and playfulness. Speak gently to the dependent who lightens your daily toil; kind words insure respect, while the angry rebuke provokes impertinence and dislike. Speak gently to the aged; many are the trials through which they have passed, and now in a little while they will be missed from their accustomed places. The remembrance of an unkind word will then bring with it a bitter sting. Speak gently to the erring one; are we not all weak and liable to err? Temptations, of which we cannot judge, may have surrounded him. Harshness will drive him on the sinful way; gentleness may win him back to virtue.