Earlier text: THE SECOND COMING OF CHRISTGUARDING THE TONGUE.
By Mrs. N. A. Merrill
"The tongue can no man tame; it is an unruly evil, full of deadly poison. Out of the same mouth proceedeth blessings and cursings." Death and life are in the power of the tongue; for "by thy words thou shalt be justified and by thy words thou shalt be condemned." If the heart is right, out of the mouth will proceed blessings, for "out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh." "If any man among you seem to be religious, and bridleth not his tongue, but deceiveth his own heart, this man's religion is vain." "He that keepeth his mouth, keepeth his life, but he that openeth wide his lips shall have destruction." Then if what proceeds from the mouth comes from the heart, how necessary that our thoughts should be pure! One says, "I cannot help my thoughts; they will come." But we can place our wills against evil thoughts, fight against them, and through God's grace control them. "Lord, who shall abide in thy tabernacle? who shall dwell in thy holy hill? He that walketh uprightly, and worketh righteousness, and speaketh the truth in his heart. He that backbiteth not with his tongue, nor doeth evil to his neighbor; nor taketh up a reproach against his neighbor." If we would have pure thoughts we must cultivate them. Never say a word of harm against any, nor indulge in idle, foolish talk, or gossiping, "nor jesting, which are not convenient, but rather giving of thanks. Let your speech be always with grace, seasoned with salt, that ye may know how ye ought to answer every man, and let the peace of God rule in your hearts, to the which also ye are called in one body; and be ye thankful. Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly in all wisdom; teaching and admonishing one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing with grace in your hearts to the Lord." The Saviour has said, "Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness," so let us devote more of our time to studying his word, treasuring up those precious truths and promises in our hearts, and living them out in our daily lives. "Do all things without murmurings and disputings; that ye may be blameless and harmless, the sons of God, without rebuke, in the midst of a crooked and perverse nation, among whom ye shine as lights in the world; holding forth the word of life." If we try living only one hour at a time, and watch our words, we can overcome. Oh, how easy the words slip away from us, and they are gone; they can never be recalled; so let us watch and not speak upon the impulse of the moment! If we will stop when tempted to speak out, and whisper a silent prayer, we will gain that strength from above. He will help us to keep such thoughts from entering the heart. "I can do all things through Christ, which strengtheneth me." Through Christ we can overcome. Prayer keeps out temptations all through the day. "Evening, and morning, and at noon, will I pray, and cry aloud; and he shall hear my voice." It calls the Spirit of God to our homes, and angels guard us and keep our feet from straying. I am so thankful we can come to him with all our little discouragements. How light the cares, and how bright the day seems after holding sweet communion with Him who knows all we have to bear! "Cast thy burden upon the Lord, and he shall sustain thee; he shall never suffer the righteous to be moved." It is so easy to make mistakes; then, instead of criticising our brethren, let us have sympathy for them when they do wrong. "Let all bitterness, and wrath, and anger, and clamor, and evil speaking be put away from you, with all malice; and be ye kind one to another, tender hearted, forgiving one another, even as God for Christ's sake hath forgiven you." VERY SILLY, BUT OF RELIGIOUS ORIGIN.
By Editor
WE have often wondered how anyone could become silly enough to be entertained by the popular theatrical ditty, "Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay," and keep out of an insane asylum. But the day of surprises on account of folly in this foolish world is about over. When we learn that the nonsensical chorus is a religious hymn, we cease to wonder. American Tit-Bits gives the following graphic description of the use of the words by the Howling Dervishes:— "Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay, a meaningless combination of syllables in English, is the hymn which the most devout sect on earth use to put their bodies and souls in harmony with their crude idea of worship. The song, as sung by the dervishes, is a prolonged wail, lasting from one to two hours—a continued repetition of the words, 'Ta-ra-ra Boom de-ay.' There is not a better or safer place to see the worshipers than at Scutari, the ramshackle old town across the Bosphorus from Constantinople. They usually gather Thursday afternoon in a deserted house or harem in some byway or hidden street. The walls of the old place are covered with tambourines, and at the back of the man, who, for convenience, is here called priest, hangs a collection of relics, trophies given by the warrior members of the band, and religious devices and trappings. Around the top of the low room is a gallery, so near the floor that a man can barely pass beneath it. The front of the gallery is covered with grill, through the minute interstices of which gaze the women from the harem upon their masters worshiping below. Around the sides of the room sits a row of howlers, each upon a rug as fine as his means will allow. Apart from these sit one or two more prosperous dervishes. These have given up the hard work of the sect. They howl mildly and do the 'Ta-ra-ra' movement sitting upon luxurious tapestries, and dressed in the finest of oriental fabrics.313"The howling begins at a word from the priest, or chief dervish. The swarthy howlers, some yellow, some black, all wild-eyed, arise. Mildly they begin to beat their bodies with their hands, chanting an unintelligible mumble of Turkish words, where the proportion of consonants to vowels is one to twelve. Gradually the men get wrought up until their entire bodies are brought into action. The movements are all in unison, the column swaying, plunging, bowing as a single man. With the 'Ta-ra-ra' they bow their heads almost to the ground, quickly bringing themselves erect again. With a tremendous accent on the 'Boom,' they turn their heads to the right and bend their bodies as much as possible, the motion only lasting during the 'de-ay.' Again they howl 'Ta-ra-ra,' bowing to the front, and on the 'Boom' this time turning the head to the left and bending their bodies in the opposite direction. Back and forth, up and down they move, as swiftly as possible. Gradually the outer garments are removed, and when the meeting is over, it is not an uncommon thing to see them entirely nude, save their girdles. After these two movements they begin others, until one by one they become temporarily insane from mere fatigue. The priest from his pulpit watches the worship with cool indifference, and rewards the prostrate men by stepping twice upon their bodies as they lie before him. This exercise having been gone through, little children come in, lie flat on the floor in front of the pulpit, while the leader walks down the line, stepping squarely upon each one. He returns to his pedestal in the same way, turns about, blows his breath upon the prostrate worshipers, and then the exercises are over. Christians or Europeans, which to them are one, are not welcome guests, and are only admitted because their liberal fees help to pay the rent." EXPRESSING SYMPATHY IN SORROW.
By S. S. Times
A FATHER'S heart was wrung with anguish over the fatal illness of his only son. As he answered a question concerning that illness in a city street car, his words caught the ear of one of his neighbors with whom he had only a speaking acquaintance, and against whom he had long had a prejudice because of certain personal minor peculiarities. That neighbor at once inquired particularly as to the condition of the sick child, he not having known before this of his illness. In the early gray of the next morning, after a night of watching over the dying boy, the father saw that neighbor at his front door, and found he had come to inquire with tender interest after the state of the little sufferer. That proof of sympathy with the father in his sorrow transfigured that neighbor in the father's eyes; and now through the vista of years he is seen by that father in a loveliness all his own, as one who had sympathy in an hour of peculiar trial, and had no fear of intruding by giving it expression. Again that father was in sorrow, even more grievously than when he was mourning an only son. Another neighbor newly come into his part of the city, whose name was barely known to the mourner, sent in a simple card in assurance of his sorrowful sympathy, and its reception thrilled the sorrowing heart with its proof of a wish on that newcomer's part to show his interest in the grief of a stricken household. It was not what was done or said in either of these cases, but it was the evident desire to say or do something in proof of sympathy that brought comfort and gratitude to the heart of the sorrowing one; and the manifestation of such a desire will never be intrusive, or be thought so, in the hour of bitterest bereavement. There are words of sympathy spoken to those in sorrow which are precious for their own sake. The spirit of sympathy prompts to the soul's best utterances, and many a timely letter written to one in bereavement is treasured for years because of the help it has already given and the cheer that its truths may impart to yet others also. But, aside from this, there is a value in even the simplest expression of sympathy with the sorrowing; and no multiplication of such expressions to anyone who is bereaved can diminish the worth to him of another expression of this nature from another sympathizer in the hour of his trial. A new expression of sympathy in sorrow is a new help to those whose need is unceasing; and he who has the power of uttering it has the power of proving a blessing to one to whom God would have help given. Only he who has sorrowed most deeply can know the real worth of words of sympathy in sorrow; but the testimony of such souls ought to incite us all to the free expression of our sympathy with the sorrowing without any fear of intrusion thereby. Words of Christian sympathy are words of Christian cheer.—S. S. Times. ATTRACTING VS. REPELLING STRANGERS.
ONE element of Mr. Spurgeon's success was the power he had of infusing a love for every human being into his people. A young gentleman who traveled in Europe as tutor for a young man of this city informs us that on arriving in London he went to hear Mr. Spurgeon, and was seated near a gentleman who treated him very courteously, and said, "We are always glad to see young men here; we shall be pleased to see you again." Several months afterward, being in London for the first time since this interview, he went to Mr. Spurgeon's church again, and, though he did not see the person who had so kindly received him before, at the close of the service, as he was passing out in the crowd, who should approach him but this very man. "Ah, here again! We are much pleased to see you." This was the spirit of that vast congregation. No wonder it grew. Contrast it with a church in this city. One of the leading professional men of New York had not attended church for a number of years on account of the illness of his wife. At last she recovered, and they determined to select a neighboring church of whose minister they had heard. On the first Sunday, though the church was not more than one-third full, not a person spoke to them or looked at them. The same was true on the second Sunday, though they presented an appealing countenance, which should have led any person possessing the instincts of a lady or a gentleman regularly attending the church at least to hold out the olive branch. On the third Sunday the treatment was similar. The minister's salary is paid by a few wealthy persons, and the church will not long keep up against the death rate, to say nothing of making a gain upon the sin rate, in the city of New York.—New York Christian Advocate. The Great Works of the Lord
"The works of the Lord are great, sought out of all them that have pleasure therein." COULD NOT AFFORD TO GIVE.
A MAN who attempted to raise some money on a subscription paper for a necessary church out West, relates his experience as follows:— “The first man I went to see was very sorry, but the fact was he was so involved in his business that he could not give anything. Very sorry, but a man in debt as he was owed his first duty to his creditors. He was smoking an expensive cigar, and before I left his store he bought of a peddler who came in a pair of expensive Rocky Mountain cuff buttons. “The next man I went to was a young clerk in a banking establishment. He read the paper over, acknowledged that the church was needed, but said he was owing for his board, was badly in debt, and did not see how he could give anything. That afternoon, as I went by the baseball grounds, I saw this young man pay fifty cents at the gate and go in, and saw him mount the grand stand where special seats were sold for a quarter of a dollar. “The third man to whom I presented the paper was a farmer living near the town. He also was sorry, but times were hard, his crops had been a partial failure, the mortgage on his farm was a heavy load, the interest was coming due, and he really could not see his way clear to give to the church, although it was just what the new town needed. A week from that time I saw that same farmer drive into town with his entire family and go to the circus, afternoon and night, at an expense of at least four dollars. “The Bible says, ‘Judge not, that ye be not judged;’ but it also says, ‘By their fruits ye shall know them.’ And I really could not help thinking that the devil could use that old excuse, ‘In debt,’ to splendid advantage, especially when he had a selfish man to help him.”—Youth's Companion. If Jesus should make his second advent in London and decide to attend church, he would not be allowed to occupy a pew in the Chapel Royal at St. James' Palace. A recent dispatch from England says:— “The queen has given orders that the pews in the Chapel Royal of St. James' Palace are to be most carefully reserved for the persons who are entitled to the use of them, and that outsiders are on no account whatever to be admitted to them. Her majesty has been much exasperated by the recent fuss about the gallery, which was reserved exclusively for peeresses and their unmarried daughters. It seems that the second wife of a certain well-known nobleman attended divine service accompanied by her daughter by a former marriage with a commoner. The other peeresses were exceedingly irate, and quite a hailstorm of protests against the irregularity disturbed the serenity of the offices of the lord chamberlain and lord steward. One lady of high nobility intimated the intention of reporting the matter to the Duchess of Buccleuch in order that it might be mentioned to the queen, who would at once have interfered, as the offending peeress is very far from being in favor at court. The result was, however, that the husband received an official intimation from the lord chamberlain that, although his wife was entitled to sit in the peeresses' pew in the Chapel Royal, yet that his stepdaughter had no claim to be there, and that if she came again she would be refused admittance.” MRS. DANIEL STEELE, in a leaflet with the above title, pleads for wives to be allowed a sum of money for their independent use, from which they can donate to objects of Christian beneficence in accordance with their own convictions. She says: "How many really happy wives, who have everything about them for comfort, and luxury even, would gladly sacrifice much of their grandeur if they could have the sole control of the price of only one of the items that go to make up the sum total of the 'fine estate.' There is often an undefined sense of poverty that such a woman dares not confess to herself even, much less to her friends. A careless, childish woman will not hesitate to 'tease' her husband, as a child often does tease, if she knows nothing of his business, his resources, and his liabilities. Such seldom understand this feeling; but the noble-minded, thoughtful, considerate, but timid wife may live for years with an incubus of poverty resting upon her in the midst of comfort and competence. When treated all her life like a child, with no especial possession or portion or allowance, the mistress may sometimes envy the maid, who earns her weekly wages and spends them for herself, her needy relatives, or her church, as she will. The mechanic's or farmer's wife, who labors more hours than her husband, who often carries on several lines of labor simultaneously, who knows much of self-sacrifice for her family, receives no wages, often has no allowance, no portion, no sum whatever with which she can exercise the virtue of generosity. "That the absolute control of a little money is highly prized by a woman, especially by most wives, is evident if we observe how eagerly every innocent device is made use of by them 'to earn something of their own,' even in cases where plenty seems to reign around them, this, too, sometimes when it would seem that every day was well filled, and every energy expended upon the family work. Witness the work taken from shops to be done in farmers' homes by the wives, who are really already crowded with labor. Shirts are made in such homes for the veriest trifle, when the wife needs that time for rest. In the hours when her husband has finished his work and nods in his chair, or talks with his neighbors on the doorstep, she sits down and cuts and bastes and sews, hour after hour, far into the night, it may be; not because she or her children are actually hungry or ragged or homeless, but because she would like to have a penny in her purse. She wants to be able to drop a nickel into the contribution box, though her husband may consider the cause outside of his sympathy. She would like to subscribe for a periodical, which he thinks they can do without; or buy a toy for the boy, which he calls nonsense; or a plant for the front yard, which seems to him only a 'useless posy.' Yet he may be adding acre to acre all the time. "But, as is often the case, no such way is open to the wife to create a little portion for herself. What can she do then? Many a good and kind husband thoughtlessly allows her who is the sharer of his labors to have no part of the profits except a bare subsistence. How stoutly he would deny this if accused of it! How little does he imagine it is true! 'Everything is hers as much as mine,' he would say. But let her take all the money, as he does, and let him go to her pocket every time he wishes to go to the store or give his little grandchild a stick of candy, and how different the case would seem! "What shall we do about it? What, in each case, would be best must be decided by each family. But certainly a wife should not be treated all her life as a minor. To the wife, who labors for the family and is the sharer of her husband's name, something, be it ever so little, should be assigned to do with as she will. Without this there can be no true 'giving' on the part of any woman. All have not the boldness to say to their husbands, as did the Quakeress, 'John, wilt thou please to look in the corner of thy pocketbook where thou keepest the money I have earned, for I feel moved to give this man something.' "Instances are not wanting—they are known to us all—where women who live well, even richly, are forced to petty meannesses, and often to devices little short of deception, to possess themselves of a dime or a quarter for the support of the gospel, or the various benevolences of the day, or to furnish themselves or their children with some cheap trifles which a really kind husband, even, sometimes sneers at because they form no part of his needs, and appear to him quite superfluous. Few true, self-respecting women will beg for money under such circumstances, and so often a hunger, more imperative than physical famine, gnaws at the souls of noble-hearted, generous, but famished wives. They will be laid down, by and by, beneath princely marble monuments, upon which will be engraved a long list of their virtues; but, alas! they had sighed rather for such memorials as graced the tomb of Dorcas. How many a wife would gladly relinquish the sculptured marble which will press coldly above her coffin, if she might have its price put in her hands in this life to purchase coals and garments for the helpless widows and shivering orphans about her, whose tears at her loss would fall warm and lovingly upon the bare sod above her head!" THERE are in the United States about one hundred and eighty thousand liquor stores. If formed in a street, with a row of saloons on each side, allowing 25 feet to each one, they would make a street about four hundred and twenty miles long. Come with us, if you have the nerve and patience, and we will stand at the lower end of that street for one year. Marching five abreast and 85 miles in length is an army of 7,000,000 men and women who daily enter saloons for intoxicating drinks. Scan them closely as they go by. There are gray-haired men and fair-haired boys among them. There are, alas! many women sunk to deeper depths than the men, because of the greater height from which they have fallen. See the trembling limbs, the palsied hands, the bleared faces, the bloodshot eyes, as they march with unsteady step and zigzag lines; but do not turn away, for here comes another army—125,000 criminals—from jails, prisons, and penitentiaries. At their head is a long line of persons with their hands smeared with blood; with ropes around their necks, on their way to the gallows. Others are going to prison for life. Every crime known to our law has been committed while they were under the influence of drink. But hark! whence come those unearthly yells? and who are those bound with strong chains that go raging by? They are raving maniacs made by strong drink. Slimy reptiles crawl over their bodies, and fiends torment them before their time. To all intents and purposes they are already in hell. They are gone now and we breathe more freely. What is that long line of black coming slowly down the street? It is the line of funeral processions, 100,000 who have died from alcohol and are carried to their graves. Every now and then an unconfined corpse in a rough cart is driven by. Look into the coffins as they go by—see the dead drunkards. Some died from delirium tremens, some frozen to death by the roadside, some drowned, some blew their brains out, some were fearfully stabbed in drunken brawls, some roasted in burning buildings, some crushed to shapeless masses under the cars. Strong drink killed them all, and their tombstones, if they have any, may be fitly inscribed, 'He died a drunkard's death.' Next comes an array of innocent children. How many thousands there are upon whom have been visited the iniquities of their fathers, and each must bear through life the stigma of being a drunkard's child! Keep back your tears if you can, and look at them. See the gaunt figures and bony hands. Some are moaning with hunger. Some are shivering with cold! They will fill up the ranks of the awful army of drunkards that moves in unbroken columns down to death. Thus we have listened to the story that the figures tell; but they cannot tell it all. They give only a faint outline of the terrible tragedy that is going on about us. They cannot picture the squalor of the drunkard's home; they cannot tell how many heavy blows have followed from the drunkard's hand; they cannot tell us how many fond expectations and bright hopes which the fair young bride had of the future have been blasted and turned to bitterest gall; they cannot tell how many scalding tears the wives of drunkards have shed; they cannot tell how many mothers' hearts have been broken with grief as they saw a darling son become a drunkard; they cannot tell how many white hairs have gone down in sorrow to the grave mourning over drunken children; they cannot tell how many hard-fought battles the drunkard, in his sober moments, has fought with the terrible appetite; we cannot search the records of the world to tell how many souls have been shut out of11that holy place where no drunkard enters, banished to the regions of eternal despair by the demon drink.—Selected. Oh, let there be sunshine at home,
If not in the world outside;
Enough of sorrow will come,
Though we try from its clouds to hide!
Each day has its cares and fears,
Each heart its hours of gloom,
But a cheerful face and smile
Will ever make sunshine at home. Oh, what if our path doth seem hard
At times, as we tread life's road;
A kind, tender, loving regard
For others will lighten our load!
For God's love is over us all;
He knows by what way we have come,
So let us, with strong hearts and true,
Do our best to make sunshine at home. It may be our burden is hard;
If with loving patience we try
To lift it, and trust for reward
To Him who strength will not deny,
His love will be our defense,
And lift every shadow of gloom,
And husband and children will help
In making the sunshine at home. Let us not keep our smiles for our guest,
Who may now and then sit at our board,
But give home's dearest treasures the best
Of the riches our hearts can afford.
Let life's toils be brightened by smile,
For partings are surely to come,
When how bitter will be our regret
If we fail to make sunshine at home!
—Selected. The Deepest Sea Soundings
The deepest sea soundings ever made were midway between the island of Tristan d'Acunha and the mouth of the Rio de la Plata; the bottom was reached at a depth of 7,706 fathoms, equal to 46,236 feet, or 8 3/4 miles. THE VALUE OF HOME RELIGION.
By Isaiah Reed
KEEP the home fires aglow. These are the engines that keep in motion life's machinery. When your place of prayer falls into disuse, when the Bible is not consulted daily, when the home life is below the church life, things are on a decline. I am satisfied the failures are first in the home life of the soul. It is true, then, that the private means of grace are of prime importance. In a certain sense, each soul must solve the problem for himself, in the chamber of his own secret living. We live at home before we live in public. The great bulk of moral life is private not public. We cannot long keep the public profession and walk on a higher level than the home living. Let the home altar of prayer be kept up. We who have had the benefit of the family altar from infancy can never measure its value. My mind was called to this only a few mornings since by a sister at the altar, just beginning Christian life, and feeling called to erect the family altar, who asked me plainly what to do at the family altar—how and what was to be done. I had hardly thought till then how the idea appeared to one who had never known the privilege of living in a family where this was the custom. I tried to tell her what a family altar was, and she seemed satisfied and helped, and glad that she could begin at once. Two or three essential things are always in place,—prayer, reading the word, and a song of praise, if there are those that can sing. There is no set rule. Vary the custom as to length and manner, to suit those present and the circumstances of the day. Above all, keep the service from becoming a dry, dull routine. Do not be too easily discouraged. It is true the children may not understand the reading. I remember when I did not; but I cannot remember the time when I did not feel the influence, even though the understanding had not come to age. Family worship, where the spirit of worship is, is a true character builder for the children. But it is no less so for ourselves. The same may be said of private prayer and the personal reading of the word of God. Our personal home worship, in its uniform modes, methods, and tides, gauges what we are out of home. The real spiritual outward endowment is always so proportioned. The measure God reaches with us alone is the measure of our reach for others. If we are only affected in the head, we shall only affect them in the head. If our heart is reached, then God can use us to reach other hearts. If we have reached the kingdom of love, we can be used of God to help others into the kingdom. While it is true that public meetings have great central elements of power, it is also true that the exponent of power is correctly represented by the measure of home religion the children of God possess. Build, then, the family altar. Make a business of having more merchantable home religion. If it will win in the home life, it will win in the outside life.—Isaiah Reed. Two young girls sat on the porch of a seaside hotel in which they had been guests all summer; near them was a gentleman who had just arrived. "There!" said Miss B., "there go those lovers off for a stroll. It is said they are actually engaged! So absurd! Both middle-aged; he is a pompous fool, and she is pock-marked. What can they see in each other?" "They have been lovers since they were children," gently answered Miss C. "But she has devoted her life to nursing her mother, who has been ill for years with an incurable disease. Now her mother is dead, and they will be married soon." "Do look at those Wright sisters!" cried Miss B. "I'm sick of the sight of them. The elder sails along with that slow, majestic gait, as if they were of royal birth, and the ugly little one trots after her—never leaves her a minute. It's a wonder it never occurs to her that she may be in the way when a pretty girl is talking to a gentleman." "Her sister does not think her in the way," quietly said Miss C. "The reason she walks and moves slowly is because she is subject to terrible attacks which are brought on by rapid motion. Her sister never leaves her, because if she were not there to apply the remedies, the poor girl would die. There never was a more unselfish sacrifice of one life to another," she added warmly. Her companion was silenced, but only for a few minutes. "There is that stupid Miss Blank going away! That is a relief. When women get to be as old, and ugly, and uninteresting as that, they ought to be kept out of sight among their friends." Miss C. hesitated a moment. "Do you know that Miss Blank engaged two rooms for the entire season and has kept them filled with poor teachers, and widows, and mothers with sick babies, not one of whom would have been able to leave home but for her? She has given them happiness, and health, and perhaps new life. I heard this from one of them—not from herself," she added quickly. And so on and on, one seeing the shadow in each character, the other the bright side. The newcomer keenly inspected the faces of the two girls as they rose and passed him. Both were young and pretty. But one face was already lined with discontent and mean, vulgar thoughts, while the other turned on life eyes full of serene and joyful calm. Whatever their future lot, one will find only disappointment in the world; but to the other it will always be, as Charles Kingsley says, "full of sweet and noble souls." I will not touch that sparkling cup,
Though dazzling bright it seem;
Its hopes are April's changeful day,
Delusive as its beam. I will not taste the rosy draught;
'Twould health and peace destroy;
The sweeter rills from God's own hills
Will satisfy my joy. I will not smell the blighting flower;
Its scent shall never be
A soothing balm to cheer my heart;
'Twould sorrow bring to me. Thus neither touch nor taste will I,
Nor smell nor handle ever;
'Twould steer the bark of youthful life
To ruin's fatal river. A HEATHEN woman said that the Bible must have been written by a woman, for it says so many kind things of women, while their sacred books say nothing of the kind. The degradation of womanhood throughout the East is well known, and is as marked as is their exaltation where the light of the gospel shines. Especially among Mohammedans is this contempt for womanhood noticeable. A Mohammedan apologizes with an expression of contempt when speaking of his wife. The Mohammedan's scorn of women is the logical outcome of his religion, which refuses to recognize their claim as human beings deserving of respect. As they are of use to man, they are worth food and shelter, but they are not in the least entitled to standing ground at his side. The Countess Cowper, in "A Month in Palestine," gives an instance, far more telling than any sermon, of this dreadful state of things: "I was told by a Christian in Cairo that he was once walking with a well-to-do Mohammedan, with whom he was intimate, and who had often discussed with him the different positions of women in their respective sects. As they passed an old veiled figure in the street, who shrank on one side out of their way, the follower of the prophet delivered a passing kick at her. "There," said the Christian, "that is what I complain of. You kick a woman as we would not kick even a dog." "That," said the Mohammedan, with a look of astonishment—"why, that is only my mother!" And yet infidels will say smooth words of the Mohammedans, who despise womanhood, and of the heathen, who murder their parents and children, and blaspheme Moses, who said, "Honor thy father and thy mother," and speak with contempt of Jesus, who said, "Suffer little children to come unto me."—Sel. SHELLS, beans, pumpkin seeds, postage stamps, and scores of other things have been, and still are, used to make change; but it seems, if we may credit the report of a recent traveler, that Mexico has a "coinage" more odd and original than any of which we have yet heard. "In one of the small towns I bought some limes, and gave the girl $1.00 in payment. By way of change, she returned me forty-nine pieces of soap the size of a water cracker. "I looked at her in astonishment, and she returned my look with equal surprise, when a police officer, who witnessed the incident, hastened to inform me that for small sums soap was the legal tender in many portions of the country. "I examined my change, and found that each cake was stamped with the name of a town and of a manufacture authorized by the government. The cakes of soap were worth one and a half cents each. Afterward in my travel, I frequently received similar change. "Many of the cakes showed signs of having been in the wash tub; but that, I discovered, was not at all uncommon. Provided the stamp was not obliterated, the soap did not lose any value as currency. Occasionally a man would borrow a cake of a friend, wash his hands, and return it with thanks. I made use of my pieces more than once in my bath, and subsequently spent them."—Household. The coffee fields of Brazil cover an area of two million acres and contain upwards of eight hundred million trees, that is, four hundred per acre, each tree producing on an average one pound of berries per annum. The industry finds employment for over eight hundred thousand men. The Productivity of the Banana
The banana is the most productive of the fruits of the earth, being forty-four times more productive than the potato, and one hundred and thirty-one times more productive than wheat.