Earlier text: THE ENGLISH DUMDUM BULLETSLESSON IX.—SUNDAY, MAY 28, 1899
28 “They lead Jesus therefore from Caiaphas into the palace; and it was early; and they themselves entered not into the palace, that they might not be defiled, but might eat the Passover. 29 Pilate therefore went out unto them, and saith, What accusation bring ye against this Man? They answered and said unto him, If this man were not an evil-doer, we should not have delivered Him up unto thee. 31 Pilate therefore said unto them, Take Him yourselves, and judge Him according to your law. The Jews said unto him, It is not lawful for us to put any man to death; that the word of Jesus might be fulfilled, which He spake, signifying by what manner of death He should die. 33 “Pilate therefore entered again into the palace, and called Jesus, and said unto Him, Art Thou the King of the Jews? 34 Jesus answered, Sayest thou this of thyself, or did others tell it thee concerning Me? 35 Pilate answered, Am I a Jew? Thine own nation and the chief priests delivered Thee unto me; what hast Thou done? 36 Jesus answered, My kingdom is not of this world; if My kingdom were of this world, then would My servants fight, that I should not be delivered to the Jews; but now is My kingdom not from hence. 37 Pilate therefore said unto Him, Art Thou a king then? Jesus answered, Thou sayest that I am a king. To this end have I been born, and to this end am I come into the world, that I should bear witness unto the truth. Every one that is of the truth heareth My voice. 38 Pilate saith unto Him, What is truth? And when he had said this, he went out again unto the Jews, and saith unto them, I find no crime in Him. 39 But ye have a custom, that I should release unto you one at the Passover; will ye therefore that I release unto you the King of the Jews? 40 They cried out therefore again, saying, Not this Man, but Barabbas. Now Barabbas was a robber. Golden Text: “I find no fault in Him.” (1) After the trial of Jesus before Caiaphas, where was He taken? Why did His accusers not go into the palace? Verse 28. Note 1. (2) What then did Pilate do? What question did he ask? V. 29. (3) How did the rulers answer him? V. 30. Note 2. (4) What did Pilate then say to them? What excuse did they make for not accepting the responsibility? V. 31. Note 3. (5) What word of Jesus was fulfilled? V. 32. (6) What then did Pilate do with Jesus? What question did Pilate ask? V. 33. Note 4. (7) With what query did Jesus reply? V. 34. (8) How did Pilate answer? V. 34, 35. (9) What did Jesus say of His kingdom? V. 36. Note 5. (10) What further question did Pilate ask? What direct reply did Jesus give? What deeper interest did Pilate then manifest? V. 37. Note 6. (11) What conclusion did the governor announce to the Jews? V. 38. (12) To what custom did he refer? What option did he give them? V. 39. (13) Whom did they choose? Who was Barabbas? V. 40. Note 7. 1. “It was early.”—For the same reason that Jesus was arrested, tried, and condemned in the night, He was hurried to the praetorium early in the morning, that their judgment might be affirmed by Pilate before their action became generally known to the public. In this was illustrated the words of Jesus: “This is the condemnation, that light is come into the world, and men loved darkness rather than light, because their deeds were evil.” John 3:19. “Lest they should be defiled.”—The defilement which they feared was merely ceremonial, and even that was from their tradition, and not from any divine decree. Their scruples were only superstition, as shown by the fact that they were careful not to enter a Gentile house during the Passover, but did not shrink from putting an innocent man to death. Such is ever the effect of setting up man-made religious institutions in view of the commandments of God. 2. Assumed righteousness.—The Jews knew that the charge of blasphemy, under which they had condemned Jesus, would have no weight in a Roman court; so they assumed that of course they would not condemn any one without good cause. They wanted the governor to consider their righteousness a guarantee for the righteousness of any demand they might make. They would make their assumed righteousness a cloak for the wickedness of their deed. To add force to their demand they said, “We have a law, and by our law He ought to die.” John 19:7. 3. The determined purpose.—Pilate gave them permission to judge the prisoner according to their law. But that did not answer their purpose; for the permission evidently implied that they should go only so far as Roman law would allow the operation of their law, and that would not include the death penalty. It is worthy of note that while they said, “By our law He ought to die,” they protested that, “It is not lawful for us to put any man to death.” 4. “The judgment hall again.”—Pilate had gone out into the court of the praetorium, because the Jews would not go into the palace (or “judgment hall,” A.V.). Jesus made no protest against going into the house on account of defilement. Had there been any sin in so doing, He would have resisted with all the power of heaven. 5. The charges.—When the governor insisted on having definite charges against Jesus, “the chief priests accused Him of many things.” Mark 15:3. Among other things they said, “We found this fellow perverting the nation, and forbidding to give tribute to Cæsar, saying that He Himself is Christ a King.” Luke 23:2. The last charge would naturally attract Pilate’s attention most, so upon this point he questioned Jesus. But Jesus disclaimed any temporal authority whatever. While admitting that He was born to be a King, He declared, “My kingdom is not of this world.” As all earthly governments are of necessity sustained by physical force, the fact that His servants did not fight, and no preparation was made for military defense or aggression, was sufficient evidence to satisfy Pilate’s mind that He was innocent of the charges against Him. 6. A direct answer.—When Pilate asked, “Art Thou the King of the Jews?” Jesus did not answer directly; He gave opportunity for Pilate to voluntarily acknowledge Him, to allow the Spirit to do its office work. But when asked again, He answered directly. “He can not deny Himself.” 2 Tim. 2:13. The expression, “Thou sayest that I am a King,” is equivalent to a direct affirmative. The Jews so understood it, as shown when He was before Caiaphas. There He was asked, “Art Thou the Son of God?” and He replied, “Ye say that I am.” Then they said, “What need we any further witness? for we ourselves have heard of His own mouth.” Luke 22:70, 71. On this they accused Him of blasphemy. In His reply to Pilate we have the assurance as to who are deemed the subjects of Christ’s kingdom; “Every one that is of the truth heareth My voice.” His kingdom is made up of those who voluntarily submit to His word. 7. Inconsistency.—The insincerity and inconsistency of the Jews was shown when Pilate, after declaring Jesus innocent, asked whether He should release Him or Barabbas. The chief priests incited the people to ask for the release of Barabbas, who had been convicted of the same crime of which they charged Jesus, and for which they had demanded His death. The inconsistency of Pilate was manifested in placing a man whom he had declared innocent on a par with one who had been convicted, and leaving the fate of the innocent to the choice of His avowed enemies. WE WISH YOU TO KNOW
By Editor
that we have arranged with Free Scholarship of one year, including board, room and tuition A Training School for Christian Workers
Battle Creek, Mich. “Come thou with us, and we will do thee good.” This institution is devoted exclusively to the spiritual, physical, mental and moral training of young men and women, that they may be prepared to go out to service for God. Practical courses are given in every line of study necessary for this work. Special attention is given to training for the ministry, missionary teaching, house-to-house Bible work, colporter work, and for foreign mission service. Students have abundant opportunity each day to put into practice what they have learned. A prominent feature in the educational work of this College is the instruction and practice given in manual training, including farming, carpentry, broom making, shoe making, tailoring, dressmaking, cooking and nursing. Board is offered in the College boarding hall on the European plan, which enables the student to control and greatly curtail his expense on this item. To those who solicit subscriptions for the “SIGNS,” special inducements are offered at rates far below the regular fees. For further particulars on this offer, write to “SIGNS OF THE TIMES,” Oakland, Cal. For further information concerning the School, address BATTLE CREEK COLLEGE, Battle Creek, Mich. JEM'S MOTHER.
By Emily D. McBride
“That ain't smoke, father, it's just a cloud.” “I think it's smoke.” And both the old people with faces pressed close to the window peered wistfully at the thin gray film wavering above the trees of the distant grove. “It is moving this way, mother.” “Like enough; the breeze is in the east.” “There!” they both exclaimed as the faint sound of a whistle reached them. The rumble of the car wheels became distinct, but still they stood watching the shifting line of smoke as it came nearer and nearer. Neither moved until the long train rushed through the town, passing only a few rods from the windows where they were watching. Then Uncle Matt turned away and sat down in his old-fashioned splint rocker. His hands, bronzed and knotted with weather and work, were clasped over the head of his walking stick. He leaned forward, heavily resting his head on his hands. “Aren't you goin' for the mail, father?” “Tain't any use. I've been every day for ten years, and never a word from Jem yet.” “But it might come to-day, and I couldn't stand it noways to think maybe there was a letter and we didn't know it.” Uncle Matt rose slowly from his chair. “Seems ’zif I couldn't drag myself up to the post-office many more times. This goin' and goin' every day, and watchin' and watchin' the letters poppin' into the boxes here and there and everywhere, and thinkin' every time that the next one will fly into our box and it will be from Jem—but there, mother, I'm goin'. Maybe it will come to-day.” Aunt Betsey rocked back and forth crying softly, while Uncle Matt with labored effort moved around the room getting ready for his walk. He came and stood beside her as he buttoned his worn, faded coat snugly across his chest; then he patted her silvered hair with clumsy sympathy, saying, “There, mother; there mother, I'm goin' now.” Aunt Betsey nodded and tried to smile as he went out the door. It was a snowy, tedious walk, but Uncle Matt trudged bravely on, the heroism of his wife's smile filling his loving old heart and urging forward his aged, rheumatic limbs. Every one in the village knew him—knew the almost hopeless hope of his daily pilgrimages to the office. The group of idlers waiting to catch stray bits of gossip from those who were coming and going, smiled sympathetically when the postal clerk took a letter from the box and waved it at the old man as he entered the door. “For me?” he asked. “Is it for me?” The clerk nodded. “I hope it's all right,” he ventured, noticing how the letter shook in the trembling hand that received it. But Uncle Matt could make no reply. He stumbled out into the street again, the precious letter crushed in his intense, eager grasp. He forgot all the heart-breaking anxiety of those long years. He forgot that Jem had left home in a drunken fury, without one word of farewell, but sullen curses. He forgot the bitter cruelty of his unbroken silence during the long years. He remembered only that he was their son, their bright, beautiful, winning boy. As he neared home he exulted in the thought of the happiness he was taking to his boy's mother. He knew he would find her sitting before the little open stove trying to knit. She had long since stopped asking if there were any mail, and this morning she did not even look up as he came in, lest he should see her too willing tears. He sat down by her and put the letter in her lap. There was no need to ask from whom it came. They had no thought at first whether the news were good or bad. It was enough for the moment that Jem was alive, that he had written to them. “You open it, mother,” Uncle Matt said at last. She lifted it from her lap, took hold of one corner with thumb and finger, but her hands refused to do their bidding. “I can't, father. You open it.” He reached to take it, but all the sorrow and loneliness of those long years, all the disappointed pride and ambition, and all the possibilities of happiness or misery concealed by that common yellow envelope, overwhelmed him. “No, mother, I can't,” he faltered; and after a pause, “We'll take it to Lizy.” Lizy's home over on the next street was in plain sight across the open space. They went across the field by the foot-path the schoolchildren had worn through the snow. Lizy saw them coming, carrying the letter between them, and opened the door as they turned into the yard. “You open it,” Aunt Betsey said, by way of greeting, holding the letter toward her sister. Lizy was a plump, comfortable woman, with much sense and little sentiment. “Lost your glasses?” she asked, running her scissors along the edge. “Why! it's from Jem! Now you let me set right down between you and I'll read it out loud.” “Wait a minute, Lizy,” Aunt Betsey pleaded, content at first to see the letter unfolded in her sister's hand. Lizy talked in easy commonplaces until her sister said, “Now commence; read every word.” “Dear Father and Mother”—Aunt Betsey put out a detaining hand. “Wait a minute, Lizy, read that over again. You see he hasn't forgotten; he says, ‘Dear father and mother.’ Now go on.” And so the letter was read with many interruptions and comments. When once more they were at home, sitting side by side before the fire, they discussed Jem's letter from beginning to end, over and over, until both were nodding in drowsy happiness. Aunt Betsey was the first to start up. “Do you know, father,” she began, with a little break in her voice, “I've always blamed myself for Jem's goin' away. He just had common store stockings that winter. You mind? My hands were lame and I couldn't knit him any. 'N I've thought sometimes if he'd had on stockings that I knit, those boys couldn't have led him into the saloons so easily, and all these years of sorrow might have been different.” “Don't, mother, don't blame yourself. It was all because Jem was too anxious to please everybody.” The old man rambled on, fumbling for excuses for his profligate son. “'Twasn't because he was bad at heart. He was too good-hearted. Wasn't that it, mother? He couldn't offend any one.” Aunt Betsey nodded. “If I only could send him stockings that I knit, maybe they'd help to keep his feet from paths of destruction.” Uncle Matt brightened up. “Do, mother. Of course it would help him.” Then he stopped in dismay, for his wife was crying again. “What's wrong? Haven't you the yarn?” She shook her head, holding up the cylindrical strip she was working on. “The last bit is in these wrists, 'n if I raveled them out there wouldn't be more than enough to begin a pair of stockings.” Uncle Matt's hand instinctively sought his pocket and searched hopelessly for the money he knew was not there. Then he went to the book-shelf and drew from behind the books the well-worn purse. With a desponding glance he replaced it. “There ain't anything we could sell?” he suggested, brightening. “No, nothing. Everything was gone long ago. The spinning wheels went first and then the old clock; everything has been sold but”— “Have you sold the foot-stove?” Aunt Betsey caught her breath. “It's the only thing that's left of mother's.” “Is that so? I wouldn't have said anything if I'd known that.” There was little sleep for the anxious mother that night, but with the morning her spirits rose. After breakfast she wrapped up the old-fashioned foot-stove and put the package in her husband's hands. “You take that up to Mis' Deering. She said she'd give me five dollars for it if I ever wanted to sell it. Then go on up to the store and get me some yarn; they know what kind I buy. Go quick, before I change my mind.” Uncle Matt made no remonstrance, for he knew the mother rejoiced in the sacrifice she was making for their son. The pang of parting with her treasured relic would be forgotten long before the stitches for the first stocking were cast on the shining needles. O, the warmth from that little old foot-stove and the strength of the hardy pioneer lives it had made comfortable must have been woven into those sturdy blue woolen hose! When they were finished,13the mother spread them in a row on her bed, and with her face bowed on its patchwork cover, prayed Heaven to make them in some way instrumental in saving her dear son. Then, with a letter full of sweet mother-love, she sent them on their way. Uncle Matt resumed his daily visits to the office. Gradually Jem's letter was worn thin from much reading. The folds cracked and the pieces were held together by zigzag stitches. Many nights during that long, cold winter Jem's letter was tucked under his mother's pillow, while she looked forward with loving certainty to the time when another should come. And one day in the early spring the letter came. “I was coming home, mother,” he wrote. “I've been a long time on the way. I had saved a little money, and I wanted to bring it to you. It is only a little bit, but I will send it, for I can't come now. They say I can't live, but, mother, I want you to know that I have not touched a drop of the stuff that ruined me since I got your package. I couldn't walk up to the bar with stockings on that I knew you had woven so many prayers into. Then, too, your letter was in my pocket, and your love seemed more real to me than it ever had when I was at home.” Here the shaky, uncertain writing broke off; the pen had fallen from Jem's exhausted hand. The nurse wrote in explanation. Jem was in a hospital in Chicago. He had saved a little child from injury by a half-drunken cart driver, but he himself had been knocked down. His injuries were not serious of themselves, but his very life had been burned out by alcohol. His few weeks of abstinence were in his favor, but his recovery was doubtful. Then she forgot that her patient was simply a “case”—one of hundreds—and told with tender sympathy of the manly heroism of Jem's conduct. Aunt Betsey arose when they had finished reading the letter and put on her bonnet and shawl. There were no tears and sighs now, but a resolute preparation for the inevitable. “I'm goin' over to Mis' Deering's,” she said quietly, and carried the letter with her. The few crises in the lives of these humble people had been met by the prompt action of the gentle, submissive wife, and Uncle Matt was more than content to leave the matter in her hands. Nor was he greatly surprised when they found themselves on the Chicago express traveling toward Jem. They gave no thought to danger or fatigue or to the possible failure to find him. He was there, they must see him. These two old people, so innocent, so genuine, so trustful, won the kindliest services of the big, good-natured conductor. At another time the breakneck speed at which the carriage in which he placed them was driven, would have made them faint with terror, but now they only thought, in a dazed way, how kind the driver was to hurry so for them. When the afternoon began to wane, the nurse by Jem's bedside gave place to a little woman in a rusty black dress. She sat by him scarcely breathing until he stirred uneasily, then she put her hand on his forehead. She stroked his cheek and patted it as she had been used to do when he came in his little white “nightie” to say his prayers by her knee. Her touch seemed to turn back the stained, blotted leaves of his life to the pure pages of youth. He smiled and murmured, “Now I lay—me—down—to sleep,” and then, “No, mother, I have not touched a drop since I got your letter.” Toward midnight he roused, but with the calmness of one in whom death has drawn near, he showed no surprise at seeing his loved ones near him. “Tell the boys, mother, that I wasted my life. Tell them”—his words were coming more slowly now as the ebbing tide carried his soul out toward the dark waters—“tell them I tried to stop drinking, but I forgot to say, ‘Our Father.’” There was an empty cot in that ward in the morning. There was a little procession that wound its way in mute sadness through the noise of the city. There were two sorrow-laden old people who returned to the lonely home in Brushville. Jem's life had been a record of time wasted, talents abused, and honor tarnished. But at the setting of the sun of his life the golden glory of one honest effort and one deed of noble heroism shone through the clouds of wrong-doing that had darkened his day. —Emily D. McBride, in Union Signal. “Where is heaven, dear mama?”
A babe on my mother's knee,
I asked that old, old question;
This answer she gave to me:
“'Tis the place above, my baby,
Where God and His angels dwell,
And if we are good, my darling,
He'll show what I can not tell.” “What is heaven like, dear mama?”
As a child I asked once more,
Believing that she could tell me,
As she'd promised to, long before.
“How can I tell you, my daughter,
Save that 'tis God's own home,
Where He'll be waiting to greet us
When on earth we cease to roam?” “What is heaven like, my brother?”
My eyes on the river were cast.
It seemed, in the moonlight sparkling,
A sight far too lovely to last.
But his eyes were still more lovely,
As he spoke of his home so dear:
“'Tis a place with no more weeping,
With never a pain nor a tear; “A place where we'll dwell with Jesus,
Through an endless happy day;
And whatever there was of sorrow
By His hand will be swept away.”
Through these words I found my Saviour,
And now, when the river I see,
I think of the river in heaven,
Where Jesus is waiting for me. MARIAN BERKMAN.
Bloomville, Wis. COMING HEROES.
By Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Mourn not for vanquished ages,
With their great, heroic men,
Who dwell in history’s pages
And live in the poet’s pen,
For the grandest times are before us,
And the world is yet to see
The noblest work of this whole earth
In the men that are to be. CO-OPERATION WITH DIVINE POWER.
By David Paulson
God does nothing without our co-operation. God’s dealings with people in the times past show that the miracle-working power comes from God, but the responsibility of having it done rests upon the human agent. A few examples will illustrate this:— When the angels of God were to tear down the massive walls of Jericho, the children of Israel were requested to walk around the walls once a day, and on the seventh day seven times, and then give a shout. From a human standpoint this might seem a very absurd thing; but if they had not done their part, the walls of Jericho would never have fallen down. At a certain time Naaman wished to be cleansed of his leprosy. He went to the man of God, who merely told him to go and bathe in the river Jordan, and he should be whole. There was no special virtue in that water, more than in any other kind of river water, and Naaman knew it. He thought that the man of God would come out and “touch the spot,” and then the work would be done. But it was not done until he did what he had been told to do. Noah was to be saved from the flood of waters. He built the ark, but be assured that had it not been for a special miracle, the ark itself would have been dashed to pieces upon the angry billows. Who believes that the Lord would have saved Noah by a miracle unless he had done his part? There are many who expect to be preserved when a thousand fall on one side and ten thousand on the other, in the same way that Naaman expected to be cured. They think that in some way God will “strike on” them, and they will stand; but we may be sure that if we are preserved, soul, body, and spirit, by a miracle, the Lord will lay the responsibility upon us by giving us a part to act. This is clearly brought to view in Eph. 6:13, 14: “Wherefore take unto you the whole armor of God, that ye may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand. Stand therefore.” But we have no promise that we shall stand unless we have “done all to stand.” Makes Poor Tomato Catsup and Is Bad for the Health. W. H. HALLOCK states that there is crying need for the general investigation of food adulterations, which steps are now being taken to make compulsory, and it would be of the greatest benefit to the community if a law were enacted whereby the adulteration of any article of food or medicine may be visited with a severe penalty. Mr. Hallock does not hesitate to say that there is not a single variety of prepared food within his knowledge that is not adulterated in some way. Wherever the cost can be reduced by the introduction of some foreign matter, it is the rule of some manufacturers to introduce it, regardless of any unwholesome qualities it may have. The mixing of plaster of paris in flour is but one instance of this criminal disregard for the health or life of the purchaser. When tomato catsup is made out of ground pumpkin only it can not do much harm, but when a certain acid is added to give it flavor, the health of the buyer may suffer; while paraffin as an adulterant of butter renders that article indigestible. The foreman of an extensive drug mill confesses that no drug in the mill he has charge of is ever turned out in its pure state. All the drugs are tampered with, more or less, and in most cases to a considerable extent. The extent to which adulteration is carried on in some of the largest sugar refineries would startle the public if it were known. It is beyond question that much serious illness and many deaths are the direct result of eating food adulterated with injurious substances, and the perils arising from the consumption of adulterated drinks are not less widespread and alarming.—Los Angeles Times. MANY who eat late suppers lie awake, toss about restlessly in bed, and arise the next morning unrefreshed, and wonder why they have not slept better. The trouble is that they have had undigested, irritating food in the stomach that has acted as an irritant to the nervous system during sleep, and if it has not kept the person entirely awake, it has made him restless, and his sleep, on account of this, has not been restful and refreshing. In the morning he awakes with a bad taste in his mouth; he feels nervous and tired, and unfit for the duties of the day. A person so afflicted will find it greatly to his advantage to take but two meals a day, and to take the last meal of the day at least six hours before retiring.—W. H. Riley, M.D., in Good Health, April. Avoiding Foolish Questions and Gender Strifes
“But foolish and unlearned questions avoid, knowing that they do gender strifes. And the servant of the Lord must not strive; but be gentle unto all men, apt to teach, patient, in meekness instructing those that oppose themselves; if God peradventure will give them repentance to the acknowledging of the truth; and that they may recover themselves out of the snare of the devil, who are taken captive by him at his will.” “TOMMY,” said the teacher to a pupil in the juvenile class, “what is syntax?” “I guess it must be the tax on whisky,” replied Tommy. And the teacher thought he was entitled to a credit of 100 per cent. Pacific Press Publishing Company.
By C. H. Jones
(Continued from page 10.) 1898, several important changes were made in the SIGNS OF THE TIMES, which seemed to mark a new era in its existence. First, the editorial force was increased, and several additional contributors secured. Second, it was decided to use more and better illustrations, and also better paper. These improvements have been appreciated, as is evidenced by the large increase in the subscription list. The average weekly circulation of the SIGNS during 1897 was 27,182; during 1898 it was 41,231, or an increase of over 14,000 copies weekly. The regular subscription list at the present time is about 43,000 copies weekly. The SIGNS has now reached its twenty-fifth anniversary. Early in the year 1898 the managers conceived the idea of celebrating this event by issuing a “Quarter-centennial Number,” securing articles from leading writers, covering the principal events of the last quarter century. The plan met with a hearty response from the friends of the paper everywhere, and a double number containing thirty-two pages and cover was issued, bearing date of Jan. 5, 1899. Over 400,000 copies of this special issue were sent out. Splendid reports have been received from all parts of the field, and the judgment alone will reveal the good that has been done. These papers were sold to agents at 5 cents per copy, and retailed at 10 cents. This effort has solved the problem of doing missionary work on a large scale at small cost. It has also served to demonstrate what can be accomplished by united action. During December our facilities were taxed to the utmost, six of our largest cylinder presses, including the web-perfecting press, being run on the SIGNS, and some of them 24 hours per day. Another special number, with cover, was issued March 29, and this had a circulation of over 100,000 copies. This was called the “Resurrection Number.” Four more special numbers, with covers, will be issued during the year. The next one will bear date of May 24th, and will be called “General Progress Number.” It will contain four special articles: one by Elder G. A. Irwin, on the general progress of the work; one on the educational work of the denomination; one on mission and health work; and one on the publishing work. This number will contain illustrations of our leading institutions. Second, “Independence,” or “Fourth of July Number,” dated June 28. This number will present the present status of this country in its relation, in the light of prophecy, to religion, to Romanism, and to the world. This includes expansion and imperialism. Third, “Thanksgiving Number,” telling of the second coming of Christ, and what it means to the world. Fourth, “Holiday Number.” A review of the year’s history, and the evidences of Christ’s soon coming. It has been fully demonstrated that energetic agents can do well in securing subscriptions and selling the SIGNS on the street and from house to house. Our attention has been called to the necessity of giving the message in our large cities. What better medium can be employed to introduce the work than our pioneer paper? We suggest that an effort be made to secure a good live agent in every large city in the United States, and that we solicit the co-operation of the conferences in this work. Notwithstanding the large circulation, the SIGNS still shows a loss of over $2,000. This can be accounted for in part by the additional expense incurred in improving the paper. The total number of SIGNS printed during the year was 2,418,750 copies, a gain over last year of 347,200 copies. Our Little Friend still holds its own, both as to its standing and subscription list. The total number printed last year was 832,000. The list at the present time numbers 15,509. Counter Check-Book Department.
This department has been run to its fullest capacity during the entire year. Indeed, very frequently, we have been obliged to run overtime in order to meet the demand. Two new presses have recently been installed in this department, which we trust will relieve the pressure. The result of the year’s business is very gratifying, showing a net gain of $20,340.82, against $16,782.17 last year; an increase of $3,558.65. This company has established branch offices at 39 Bond Street, New York, and 14–18 West Fifth Street, Kansas City, Mo. Encouraging reports were read from the managers of both these branches, and both speak of the outlook for the coming year as very encouraging. The following-named persons were elected as a board of directors for the ensuing year: C. H. Jones, E. A. Chapman, William Saunders, M. H. Brown, S. C. Stickney, W. N. Glenn, S. N. Curtiss. After the stockholders’ meeting, the board met and organized as follows: President and general manager, C. H. Jones; vice-president, William Saunders; secretary and treasurer, E. A. Chapman. The following appointments were also made by the board: Auditor, Mrs. H. H. Hall; manager New York branch, S. N. Curtiss; manager Kansas City Branch, B. R. Nordyke; editor SIGNS OF THE TIMES, M. C. Wilcox, assistant editor, A. O. Tait; editor Our Little Friend, W. N. Glenn; assistant editor, Alberta L. Little; editor American Sentinel, L. A. Smith; publishing committee, C. H. Jones, M. C. Wilcox, M. H. Brown, L. A. Phippeny, H. H. Hall; editorial committee, Bible Students’ and Apples of Gold Libraries, M. C. Wilcox, W. N. Glenn, A. O. Tait. C. H. JONES.