Earlier text: THE SEVENTH DAY OF THE WEEK NOT A JEWISH SABBATHHardened Hearts Despite Divine Signs
Notwithstanding the solemn exhibition they had witnessed of God’s power—of the unnatural occurrence of the beasts leaving the forests and fields, and going into the ark, and the angel of God clothed with brightness, and terrible in majesty, descending from Heaven and closing the door; yet they hardened their hearts, and continued to revel and sport over the signal manifestations of divine power. Repentance Comes Too Late
The violence of the storm increased, and there were mingled with the warring of the elements, the wailings of the people who had despised the authority of God. Trees, buildings, rocks, and earth were hurled in every direction. The terror of man and beast was beyond description. While many were blaspheming and cursing their Creator, others were frantic with fear, stretching their hands toward the ark, pleading for admittance. But this was impossible. God had closed the door, the only entrance, and shut Noah in, and the ungodly out. He alone could open the door. Their fear and repentance came too late. They were compelled to know that there was a living God who was mightier than man, whom they had defied and blasphemed. They called upon him earnestly, but his ear was not open to their cry. The Ark Preserved Through the Flood
SOME in their desperation sought to break into the ark, but that firm-made structure resisted all their efforts. Some clung to the ark until borne away with the furious surging of the waters, or their hold was broken off by rocks and trees that were hurled in every direction. Those who had slighted the warning of Noah, and ridiculed that faithful preacher of righteousness, repented too late of their unbelief. The ark was severely rocked and tossed about. The beasts within expressed, by their varied noises, the wildest terror, yet amid all the warring of the elements, the surging of the waters, and the hurling about of trees and rocks, the ark rode safely. Angels that excel in strength guided the ark and preserved it from harm. Every moment during that frightful storm of forty days and forty nights the preservation of the ark was a miracle of almighty power. The Flood Reaches the Highest Heights
By Ellen G. White
The animals exposed to the tempest rushed toward man, choosing the society of human beings, as though expecting help of them. Some of the people would bind their children and themselves upon powerful beasts, knowing that they would be tenacious for life, and would climb the highest points to escape the rising water. The storm does not abate its fury—the waters increase faster than at first. Some fasten themselves to lofty trees upon the highest points of land, but these trees are torn up by the roots, and carried with violence through the air, and appear as though angrily hurled, with stones and earth, into the swelling, boiling billows. Upon the loftiest heights human beings and beasts would strive to hold their position until all were hurled together into the foaming waters, which nearly reached the highest points of land. The loftiest heights are at length reached, and man and beast alike perish by the waters of the flood. Mrs. E. G. White. What We Put Into Life
By Dr. J. G. Holland
WE cannot get more out of human life than we put into it.—Dr. J. G. Holland. A GENTLEMAN OF TEN.
By Mrs. Emma A. Hewitt
Herbert Doane paused a half-minute to answer impatiently, “Well?” “Did you hang up your school-bag?” “Oh, bother! I forgot it. Anyway, a gentleman never puts his own things away himself.” “Go do it now, dear. A gentleman never expects his mother to do what he has left undone. A true gentleman is more ready to help others than to expect others to help him.” “Herbert!”—as he was about to rush out again—“here are your books and mittens. Go put them on the shelf.” “Oh, dear! mother, I’m in such a hurry! Ned Simmons is out there waiting for me. Won’t you put them up for me?” “My son, I’m half inclined to say that you cannot go out at all, if it leads you to speak that way,” answered Mrs. Doane, in a voice that was firm to sternness. Herbert didn’t dare to say any more; but, oh, dear!—well, I shouldn’t like to put down just all he thought; but some of his thoughts were like this: “Dear me, what a fuss about nothing! Just books and mittens! Why couldn’t she have left them there? It wouldn’t have been much trouble for her just to put them on the shelf. She wasn’t doing anything more than just sitting there reading, anyway; and she would only just have to take one little step to the shelf, and here I had to come all the way back from the door.” So, grumbling to himself, Herbert raced out again, answering his mother’s injunction to “close the door,” with a bang, and managed to catch up to the boys before they reached the commons for a good game of ball. In the game, Herbert’s ill humor all passed away; but all of a sudden something happened. What was it? Where was he? Was he going up in a balloon, or coming down? What made him feel so queer? He opened his eyes to see an anxious crowd of boys around. “Thank goodness, Herbert! I thought you were dead,” said Hal Brick; while Jason Richards stood by, pale, trembling, and silent. “What’s the matter with me, boys?” asked Herbert, feebly. “I feel awful funny.” “Well, you look as if you felt awful, but not a bit funny,” answered Hal Brick, whose spirits always came to the surface the moment any trial appeared to be about to pass away. “What is it, anyway?” asked Herbert, sitting up. “Why, I threw the ball, Herbert, and it struck you right on the side of the head; and then you dropped down like a shot, and I thought—oh! I thought I had killed you.” And Jason Richards covered his tearful face with his trembling hands. “Not a bit of it, old boy! I’m very much alive,” said Herbert, with a cheerfulness he did not entirely feel, for his head still ached from the blow. “I’m all right;” and he attempted to rise. He fell back, however, with a face so white and full of pain that Jason Richards was in an agony of fear. “What is it, Herbert; what is it?” he asked, in trembling, eager tones, as he leaned over him. “Oh! my foot, my foot!” groaned Herbert. It was discovered that, in falling, Herbert had sprained one of his ankles. So the two of the boys considered the strongest, and of the best height, made a chair, and carried him, “lady to London,” to his home, as soon as he felt well enough to be moved. Of course Mrs. Doane was all sympathy and motherly tenderness, and the afflicted boy was put to bed, and nursed and coddled to the best of a loving mother’s ability. As soon as Aunt Janet heard of the trouble,—dear, kind Aunt Janet, who was always ready to help any one, and who never seemed to have too much to do to “take in one more,” like the street-car—she “came over to stay with Lucy, and to help her nurse the boy.” Now, Herbert loved Aunt Janet dearly; but he felt miserable, and (shall I confess it?) I think was a little cross-grained, or selfish and thoughtless, anyway. “Mother, I want a drink.” “Where did you get that water, mother? It tastes horrid,” he said fretfully. “I’ll get you some fresh, dear; I thought this was quite nice.” “Oh dear! how my head aches, mother! Won’t you read to me?” “Yes,” she answered pleasantly. “What shall I read?” “Why, ‘Swiss Family Robinson.’” “Up in my room on the bureau.” “I could not find it, Herbert,” said Mrs. Doane, returning after a few moments. “Couldn’t you? Oh, dear! It must be there. Can’t you look again, mother?” “Yes, I can look again, but it is not there. Try to think where it is.” “Oh! I guess it is down in the parlor.” Anxious to do anything to please her nervous, afflicted son, Mrs. Doane again left the nursery for the parlor. Now, Herbert did not mean to be selfish in all this, but he was. This time the search proved availing, and Mrs. Doane started to read. Meantime Aunt Janet sat quietly sewing, having taken up Mrs. Doane’s unworked button-holes that she had been trying all morning to finish between Herbert’s demands on her time and her household duties. “It’s no use, mother,” exclaimed he, fretfully, after his mother had read a page or two. “My head aches so I can’t listen. Won’t you rub my head?” Mrs. Doane began the process; and after she had gently rubbed his head for a half-hour, Aunt Janet thought it about time to interfere. “Here, Lucy, let me come there. You go and rest.” “No, I don’t want mother to go; I don’t like any one to rub me but her.” The gratified and affectionate but exhausted mother motioned Aunt Janet away, saying quietly: “I think he’ll be asleep before long,” and kept on with the process. Her prediction was verified; in fifteen minutes more the boy was in a sound slumber, and the weary mother was released. Mrs. Doane was not ordinarily a spoiling mother; but when her children were sick, she was apt to do a little too much for them, and not permit them to exercise the divine gift of patience sufficiently. “Now, Lucy,” said Aunt Janet peremptorily, turning her out of the nursery, “go and lie down this minute.” “If he wakes you will call me, Janet?” “If he wakes I’ll take care of him,” answered Aunt Janet grimly. He did wake at the end of an hour, during which time Aunt Janet had done much sewing, and Mrs. Doane much sleeping. “Where’s mother?” he asked, as soon as he opened his eyes, in a tone which showed he rather resented being left alone with Aunt Janet, after his lordship had distinctly stated that he preferred to have his mother wait upon him. “You can’t have her,” answered Aunt Janet coolly. “Moth—” began Herbert in a loud call, but Aunt Janet’s hand over his mouth prevented the next syllable being heard. “Are you not ashamed, Herbert Doane? You’re a selfish little [“pig” she was going to say, but prudently changed it, not considering it a good example to set, though she was certainly very much tried] boy.” “I’m not selfish; I’m sick.” Aunt Janet waited a moment, and then she said in a different tone:— “Herbert, I’m very much disappointed in you. I had always thought you were a gentleman. But no gentleman would abuse his mother as you abuse yours;” and she waited for the effect of her words. “Abuse my mother!” exclaimed Herbert, amazed and startled out of himself. “Yes, ‘abuse your mother.’” “By making her wait on you the way you do.” “But I can’t wait on myself.” “Well, no, perhaps not now; but when you can, does she wait on you the most, or do you wait on her the most?” “And now that you are unable to do much of anything for yourself, do you make her as much trouble, or as little, as you can?” To this Herbert had no reply to make. The question answered itself. “Now I’m not going to argue with you at all; but to-morrow morning I want you to take a paper and pencil as you lie here, and make a little stroke for every time you see mother do something new, especially the number of times she is obliged to leave the room to attend to things, the number of times she is obliged to get up from her chair after she has sat down to sew. It’s an ‘awful nuisance,’ no doubt you think, to have to shut the door after you, or wipe your feet whenever you come in; but who is going to shut it, or take up the mud from the hall after you’ve brought it in? It is ‘perfectly dreadful,’ no doubt you think, to be obliged to put your books and mittens away when—” “Why, Aunt Janet! Were you—” “No I wasn’t anywhere; but I know children, and I know you. Well, as I was saying, to put your books and mittens away when you’re in such a hurry. But if you don’t, who must?”13 After a little more talk on the subject, Herbert was set to thinking in a way he had never thought before. The impression did not fade the next day, and when, on counting up the marks on Aunt Janet’s piece of paper, he discovered that mother had left her sewing chair ten times during the first hour, and four times the second, to attend to something out of the room (and Aunt Janet asserted afterwards, in confidential conversation, that this was not an uncommon amount), he felt very much ashamed of the way in which he had unnecessarily added to her burdens. And he made up his mind, from the moment he discovered what mother really had to do, that it should not be necessary to call him back to hang up his satchel again, nor even to wipe his shoes or shut the door—an excellent resolution, of which his mother received the full benefit in the years that followed after. The boy that watches “what mother has to do,” and not only tries to do all he can to help her, but tries as well not to do things that annoy her, is a gentleman—no fear of that—if he is only ten years old.—Mrs. Emma A. Hewitt, in S. S. Times. The Home Circle.
By Marianne Farningham
Knows the heart no mightier boon
Than God's love wherewith he loves us!
We may read the truth at noon,
In the blue sky spread above us;
In the purple mountain heights,
In the tiny sprig of heather;
It is shown in all the lights
Of the calm or stormy weather. And our own life's history
Plainly still the same truth teaches;
Wheresoever we may be,
Unto us His mercy reaches.
Dark sometimes may be the day,
Bitter trials come to prove us;
But the clear and hidden way
Prove alike that God must love us. And the blessed truth again
Shines along the sacred pages;
God has loved the sons of men
Everywhere, and in all ages.
Should his children alien be?
Nay; and therefore Christ was given,
That the wondering world might see
Love all through, from earth to Heaven. Can the children careless be
When the Father is so tender?
Rather let us pray to see
How our thanks we best may render.
Life can give no higher aim,
Stronger power is none to move us,
Than our wish to meet the claim
Of the love wherewith God loves us.
—Marianne Farningham. The days of cold feet and headaches have come. Medicine, unfortunately, can do very little for these troubles, and persons afflicted in this way must make up their minds to suffer, or else give over the habit of dressing the feet after the conventional mode. If headaches and cold feet were all the ills that arise from improper treatment of the feet and lack of attention to their needs, the foibles of fashion might be followed at perhaps the expense of a few hours' discomfort, but unluckily these troubles are but the beginning of other disorders and many terrible nervous affections. "Cold feet and headaches go hand in hand as it were," said a physician connected with one of the city hospitals. "The person who has cold feet is almost sure to have violent nervous headaches. Why? Because the blood not circulating in the extremities is crowded into the upper portion of the body, and exerts an undue pressure upon the blood-vessels of the brain. Nothing causes congestion of the internal organs more quickly than this crowding of the blood into the body, that should circulate freely to and through the extremities. The trouble increases in proportion to the continuance of the practice of ignoring the needs of the feet. The blood-vessels of the extremities become thickened and narrowed by the lack of flow of the vital fluid, and thus the difficulties are perpetuated. Persons suffering in this way—and who is not to a greater or less extent—should soak their feet every night in warm water, and take plenty of outdoor exercise. This counteracts the tendency to congestion, enlarges the vessels, and helps permanently to relieve the feet of their special tendency to coldness. "The conventional shoe, perhaps, does more to keep the feet cold than any other one thing. A loose shoe, I know, is quite as uncomfortable as a tight one. I know, also, that a shoe should fit as closely as a stocking. But where it should be tight is around the ankle, across the instep, and around the arch of the foot and heel. It should have, however, a loose upper and a large sole. The bones of the foot need plenty of room for movement. A loose shoe is quite as productive of corns and other discomforts as one that pinches; but if it pulls the muscles of the feet awry, pinches up the bones in one place and lets them spread out in another, until they can have no natural action, the circulation must be interfered with. Women are more troubled with cold feet than men. In fact, they are more generally afflicted with diseases of the feet than men. There are very few women that do not have corrugated nails, and yet there is no more need of it than that they should have misshapen nails on their fingers. Have you ever noticed at the sea-shore that occasionally you see a woman with every nail on her feet threaded by rough lines, and the color, instead of being a bright, healthy pink, is yellow and unhealthy? Then you have seen the results of improperly dressing the feet. Again, you see the same disease manifest itself in little holes, that look as if the nail had been worm-eaten, and was full of little pits. A poor circulation of the blood, resulting from indigestion, malaria, or squeezing of the feet, is the cause of all this. "Almost all the troubles of the feet are unnecessary. Caution and common sense will prevent them. Of course there are some forms of joint disease, gouty and rheumatic inflammations, for instance, which the possessor is not directly responsible for, but even these, if taken in time, can be cured. Feet that perspire should be washed every night and rubbed with a weak solution of carbolic acid. The stockings should be changed daily, and the shoes should have in-soles that can be changed as often as the stockings. The soldiers of the Bavarian army are required to bathe their feet every day, and anoint them with a pomade made of mutton tallow and salicylic acid. This prevents undue perspiration, and keeps the feet from becoming diseased. Most feet can be kept healthy and soft by soaking them in hot water before retiring, and using ammonia and soap freely. Then they should be rubbed briskly with a rough bath towel, and have a small portion of glycerine spread over them. Care must be taken, however, to use good soap. Bad soap is the beginning of many evils. Much of the most highly perfumed article known to the trade is made from the refuse of rendering houses, and is full of alkali. Such soaps are positively injurious. Plenty of good soap, warm water, a frequent change of dressing, and shoes that fit the feet, will prevent any trouble of a local character, cure corns and bunions, and prevent headaches and cold feet; and sensible shoes and care of the feet will oftentimes do in a week what medicines and the doctor could never accomplish."—N. Y. Mail and Express. UNDOUBTEDLY there is a very great decline in manners. Politeness threatens to become one of the lost arts. The young scoff at this notion, but men who remember earlier periods are conscious of a great change in public manners, and note a steady decadence therein. Ladies generally assent to this declaration, and speak with feeling, particularly of the decline of politeness among men in public vehicles. I think they are right. There was a time when no man thought of remaining seated while a woman stood, but now it is almost an exception for men in cars or omnibuses to surrender their seats, unless to very old or infirm persons. And the disregard of a once well-established rule of politeness is more marked among young men than old. This, when we think of it, is a little singular—for was it not women that reared these young men? Are they not fresh from the tutelage of home? When we hear women complain of the ill-breeding of men, is it not pertinent to ask who it is but women that rear the youth of this land? From whom do boys get their first ideas of politeness? If men are ill-bred, are we not right in tracing the cause back to the nursery? Commonly the very last persons in public vehicles to show politeness to women are boys; and boys that accompany women are, if anything, more selfishly regardless of the claims of other women than almost any other class. Are we accustomed to see in crowded vehicles mothers directing their young sons to offer their seats to ladies? On the contrary, have we not often, on the entrance of a number of women, heard a mother whisper to her young escort for him to keep his seat? It is obvious that whether men shall be polite and courtly or not must depend on the manner in which they are reared. The women of the land can scarcely deny this proposition, and if it is true, they must admit that the remedy for the evil in the future lies absolutely and exclusively in their own hands.—Christian Union. Human Sponges
By Louis Albert Banks
SOME men are human sponges that absorb all the good things of life they touch, but never give up anything unless they are squeezed so tight that they cannot help doing it.—Rev. L. A. Banks. Question.—What advice do the slaves of tobacco always give to the young, when asked?
Answer.—Never use or touch the unclean, unhealthy, and expensive thing. Q.—Is it, then, almost as bad for a boy to use tobacco as it is to drink?
A.—Nearly, because they are twin evils; one vice is rarely seen without the other. They go hand in hand; it is scarcely possible to separate them. Q.—But some good men smoke who do not drink; why is this?
A.—Some good men use tobacco, and though not strong enough to give up its use, they are able to resist beginning to drink. But it is an exception to see men smoke without drinking. Q.—What can truly be said of the use of tobacco by Christians?
A.—Tobacco is doing more harm to-day in the churches than spirituous liquors, because Christians who think it wrong to drink, often use tobacco freely, to their great harm. Q.—Does tobacco, like rum, affect the soul and body?
A.—Yes; it brings many evils and maladies upon the body, and it deadens the moral faculties, thus periling the soul. Q.—How should we advise young people in regard to using tobacco?
A.—Keep your lips free and pure from contact with tobacco in every form, whether it seems enticing or vulgar. And do the best you can to prevent your brothers and friends from forming or continuing the practice. Q.—What is the most sensible thing Christians and tobacco-users generally can do?
A.—Make a grand bonfire of their pipes, meerschaums, snuff-boxes, tobacco, snuff, cigarettes, and cigars. It would be more sensible than to burn tobacco by degrees all their lives, using their mouths for chimneys, and their systems as receptacles for poisonous nicotine.—Silver Star Catechism. Wine-Drinking and Its Evils
By St. Augustine
WINE-DRINKING is the mother of all mischief, the root of crimes, the spring of vices, the whirlwind of the brain, the overthrow of the sense, the tempest of the tongue, the ruin of the body, the shame of life, and the plague and corruption of the soul. GLORIFYING GOD.
By Mrs. M. J. Bahler.
"Whoso offereth praise glorifieth me, and to him that ordereth his conversation [margin: disposeth his way] aright, I will shew the salvation of God. Ps. 50: 23. How often we say: "I desire to glorify God in my daily life." Well, here is a divine rule by following which we cannot fail to glorify God. And it is not a difficult thing to do either. "Whoso offereth praise glorifieth me." Then, if we desire to glorify God, let us not fail to begin each day with praise, and having begun with praise let us continue it with praise. Then there will be no murmurings rising from our hearts, to soil our lips, to cast a heavier shadow over our heads, and to sadden those around us. Instead of this we can praise our merciful Father that the cup pressed to our trembling lips is no more bitter than it is. We can praise him that we are no worse off than we are. Oh, if we could; if we could? Nay, if we would—for we can—only take up a never-ceasing heart-song of praise to that God who loves us with a love whose height and depth we can never fathom, then we should know the unspeakable joy of glorifying him every day. Then, too, we should not find it difficult to "dispose our own way [our entire behavior, actions and words] aright." And having attained this, then comes the blessed assurance that God will show us his salvation. Often do I quote to myself the words of a friend: "We should never murmur, for this brings doubts and discouragements." We should all take up the blessings, every fragment of them, and be thankful that we have what we have, and that Jesus is our ever present helper." Yes, Jesus is our ever present helper. And with such a helper have we not cause to offer praise? Yes, truly, for trusting in him the darkness is illuminated; trusting in him, seeming mountains dwindle into mole-hills; trusting in him, the thorns may pierce our feet and our foot-prints may be marked in blood; but the pain will cause us to hasten onward, instead of sending faintness to the heart. Trusting in him, the pillow pressed by a head throbbing with pain seems to become in reality his dear breast, and though the pain cease not, there is rest and refreshment to both body and spirit. Trusting in Jesus, no matter how hard we may be pressed, we may say with Paul: "We are troubled on every side, yet not distressed; we are perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; cast down, but not destroyed." 2 Cor. 4: 8, 9. Yea, trusting in him we can "glory in tribulations also, knowing that tribulation worketh patience, and patience experience, and experience hope." Rom. 5: 3, 4. Thus, trusting in Jesus and glorying in the way in which he leads us, painful even though our path may be, we shall not cease to praise him for his leading hand, his forbearing love, his comforting Spirit, his sustaining grace, and his cleansing, redeeming power, through which we may see his salvation. Oh, let us cease our doubting and questioning! Let us take up a new song, "even praise unto our God." Then "many shall see it, and fear, and shall trust in the Lord" (Ps. 40: 3), and thus again shall our praise glorify him, in that by it others shall be led to love and trust him. "Praise ye the Lord; for it is good to sing praises unto our God; for it is pleasant, and praise is comely." Ps. 147: 1. —Silver has been discovered in Northern Arkansas. —There were thirty-one murders in San Francisco during 1886. —Switzerland has decided to increase her supply of war materials. —A serious split in the order of the Knights of Labor seems probable. —December 27, two lives were lost in a burning theater in Philadelphia. —It is stated that an alliance has been formed between Russia and Germany. —Russian agents are engaging gun makers at Prague, and in other parts of Bohemia. —It is estimated that fully 200 people lost their lives in the recent fearful snow-storm in Germany. —Ninety-nine applications for divorce were filed in the Philadelphia, Pa., court during December last. —The explosion of a locomotive boiler near Toronto, Canada, a few days since, fatally injured four men. —Prince Nicholas of Montenegro, has called out 35,000 troops which will be armed with repeating rifles. —December 28, two steamers and four barges were destroyed by fire at Cairo, Ill. The loss is about $1,000,000. —Ten miners were killed on the 31st ult. by the falling of a cage in a colliery in Houghton-le-Spring, Durham, England. —It is said that a scheme is on foot in Europe for "the restoration of the old Kingdom of Poland as a barrier against Russia." —England was visited by a very severe snow-storm on the 27th ult. Railways were blockaded and telegraph wires were broken. —An old steamer used as a boarding-house was burned the other day eleven miles above Mobile, Ala., and several lives were lost. —December 30, five persons were killed and a number of firemen injured at a fire which destroyed a large block of buildings in Lisbon, Portugal. —December 31, a fire broke out in the reserved enclosure at the People's Park, at Madras, India, as the annual fair was being held. A panic ensued and 300 people were burned or crushed to death. —An attempt was made in San Francisco a few days since to blow up a portion of one of the street railways with dynamite. The stuff failed to explode. —On the 27th ult. the great object glasses of the Lick telescope reached Mt. Hamilton. They were at once unpacked, and were found in perfect condition. —It is stated that the Russian War Council has adopted a scheme for the occupation of Central Asia as far as the Hindoo-Koosh Mountains, including Herat. —The ladies of Tucson, Arizona, are agitating the question of inducing the City Council to pass an ordinance forbidding the opening of any places of business on Sunday. —A few days since a man in Iowa protested against his son's (a youth of 18 years) attending a dance, when the boy became angered and brained him with a club. —Measles continues to spread in New York and Brooklyn to an unprecedented extent. The deaths for December were 225, against 185 for the first nine months of the year. —France now has a total debt of about $7,200,000,000, or twice as large as that of the United States at the close of the war, and six times as large as our present interest-bearing debt. —A large number of men are out on a strike on the Reading, Pa., railroad. They demand that the company shall restore two discharged crews and discharge the General Dispatcher. —The situation in Europe was well expressed recently by the German Minister of War. Said he: "We can scarcely resist the belief that we are living in a period when there is no well-founded prospect of peace being preserved." —On the 1st inst., a sled load of young people on their way to a dance near Fort Wayne, Ind., was run down by an express train. Two of the party were instantly killed, and several others were seriously, perhaps fatally, injured. —A child died in Oakland a few days since from eating a portion of a pie purchased at a neighboring bakery. The doctors decided that the fatal effects of the pastry were due either to its age or to the yeast powder used in its manufacture. They could not tell which. —Judging from the daily papers, there has never been a time in the history of this country when crime was so prevalent as at the present. Murders, many of them of the most atrocious character, and for most trivial reasons, are frightfully common. And the cases of the miscarriage of justice are rapidly increasing. —A late dispatch from Vienna states that the press of that city is becoming convinced that Russia is determined on war. Reports of increased Russian armament are continually coming to hand from various sources. The latest intelligence of this kind is to the effect that 300,000 Russian troops have been ordered to Massinkoff, and that the occupants of 10,000 houses have received official notification that soldiers will soon be billeted in them. Trust the Saviour Now
By Dr. Chalmers
Do NOT wait to be holy ere you cast your confidence on the Saviour; but cast your confidence on him now, and you shall be made holy.—Dr. Chalmers.