Earlier text: The Curse of IndiaFEW people of this century have come as near to answering to the title of a true missionary as Dr. Judson. The following extract from "Anecdotes and Sketches" in Wayland's Life of Judson is well worth a careful reading:— Dr. Judson was not at all given to admonishing people not connected with him, or, indeed, those that were, much; but there were some things that he seldom allowed to pass without attention. If I said I disliked a person, he would inquire, "Is she a Christian?" If he got one answer, the conclusion would be, "Poor creature! you ought to pity her too much for dislike;" and if the other, he would say, "Then Christ loves her dearly—cannot you?" I recollect one day showing my husband two different newspaper articles, in one of which he was compared to the apostle Paul, and in the other spoken of as the "beloved John." Instead of being amused, as I had expected, at the contradiction, he exclaimed, with a sorrowfulness which made me regret having called his attention to the subject, "O, how little—how little do they know me! 'Who shall deliver me from the body of this death?'" I believe he was not in the least aware of whose words he had used; and I had ample reason for wishing to divert his thoughts, for he was not strong enough to indulge in deep emotions. "It is very evident," I said, carelessly, "that they do not know you. One day you are Peter, or Paul, or Luther, and the next, gentle John, or mild Melancthon." "And I do not want to be like any of them," he said, energetically—"Paul, nor Apollos, nor Cephas, nor any other mere man. I want to be like Christ. We have a great many aids and encouragers along the Christian path; but only one perfectly safe Exemplar—only One who, tempted like as we are in every point, is still without sin. I want to follow him only—copy his teachings, drink in his spirit, place my feet in his foot-prints, and measure their shortcomings by these, and these alone. It is not safe to take any man, not even an inspired apostle, for a pattern. O, to be more like Christ!" A short time before Dr. Judson left this country, he took considerable pains to visit my native village, and the church with which I first united, though I had long since removed my membership. As the house was small, he had consented to address the congregation; and this, although the day was rainy, brought together quite a crowd. After the usual sermon was over, he spoke for about fifteen minutes, with singular simplicity, and, as I thought, with touching pathos, of the "precious Saviour," of what he has done for us, and what we owe to him. As he sat down, however, it was evident, even to the most unobservant eye, that most of the listeners were disappointed. After the exercises were over, several persons inquired of me, frankly, why Dr. Judson had not talked of something else; why he had not told a story, &c.; while others signified their disappointment by not alluding to his having spoken at all. On the way home, I mentioned the subject to him. "Why, what did they want?" he inquired; "I presented the most interesting subject in the world, to the best of my ability." "But they wanted something different—a story." "Well, I am sure I gave them a story—the most thrilling one that can be conceived of." "But they had heard it before. They wanted something new of a man who had just come from the antipodes." "Then I am glad they have it to say, that a man coming from the antipodes had nothing better to tell than the wondrous story of Jesus' dying love. My business is to preach the gospel of Christ, and when I can speak at all, I dare not trifle with my commission. When I looked upon those people to-day, and remembered where I should next meet them, how could I stand up and furnish food to vain curiosity—tickle their fancies with amusing stories, however decently strung together on a thread of religion? That is not what Christ meant by preaching the gospel. And then, how could I hereafter meet the fearful charge, 'I gave you one opportunity to tell them of me—you spent it in describing your own adventures!'" He acknowledged that the diffusion of missionary information was a thing of great importance, but said that the good of the cause of missions did not require a lowering of the standard of gospel preaching; and that whatever was done for missions at the expense of spirituality in the American churches, was lost on the world. North Pacific Conference.
By Charles L. Boyd
East Portland.—The good work at this place is still advancing. At the time the tent came here last summer, the church was in a state of discouragement, having passed through severe trials. Since that time, nine have been added to their number, five of them by baptism; also six persons who had previously made a profession of the faith. Seven or eight others have embraced the Sabbath, some of whom we expect will soon become worthy members of the church. In accordance with the advice of Bro. Haskell, a reading-room has been built, furnished, and opened to the public. In connection with this is a room for our State Tract and Missionary library, janitor's rooms, etc. These are in charge of Bro. and Sr. C. S. Wilson. A church has also been built, situated on G, between 10th and 11th Streets. This is a pleasant part of the city, and convenient of access for any who may desire to come to our meetings. This house will be open next Sabbath, where we expect God's people will meet to worship him until the Master comes. These institutions have not been established here for the exclusive benefit of this city or church, but to make this a central missionary station from which, by the grace of God, we hope to send the precious truths committed to our trust, both by sea and by land. That this holy object may be accomplished, we ask the prayers and the co-operation of all lovers of the truth, but especially of those of this Conference. Chas. L. Boyd.
December 11, 1883. Rochester, Ind.
By A. W. Bartlett
The interest to hear present truth is much greater than has been known here since the organization of this church in 1874. Thus far, five have voted to keep the Sabbath, and unite with the church. The cause of this revival is the method pursued in conducting our services. Each night we have a Bible-reading of about forty-five minutes' duration; this is followed by a fervent exhortation of fifteen minutes. We distribute Bibles throughout the congregation and invite all to read, irrespective of religious belief. The interest is truly wonderful. Children of tender age, and white-haired sires that are not of our religious belief, earnestly participate in these exercises. Surely there is nothing like Bible-readings to revive our old churches. Swea, Kossuth Co., Iowa.
By John Wilson
SWEA is a large Swedish settlement about ten miles northwest from Bancroft, on the Chicago N. W. R. R. Few came to meeting at first, but since visiting at their homes, the attendance has been good. The opposition of the Baptist minister has also helped some. Five have concluded to observe the Lord's Sabbath, and we hope for others, as the interest seems good. On the last four Sabbaths and Sundays I have enjoyed the company of Eld. E. G. Olsen, who has come here from Algona and remained Sabbath and Sunday. My desire is to so labor that souls may be saved. My permanent address is Algona, Box 68. Blessings from Great Calamities
A firm faith is the best divinity; a good life the best philosophy; a clear conscience the best law; honesty the best policy, and temperance the best medicine.—Charron. "Samson got his honey out of the very lion that roared against him. The Christian often gets his best blessings out of his greatest seeming calamities." Consolation of Christ’s Priesthood
ONE of the most consoling features of the gospel is expressed in Heb. 4:15, "For we have not an high priest that cannot be touched with the feeling of our infirmities." IN Scotland, during the times of bloody persecution, when Claverhouse was marching about the country, driving people from their homes, burning their houses, and putting many godly people to death, a pious father told his family that there were soldiers near, and they must hasten to the next village, where there was a strong, old church the fugitives could use for a fort. So he told Jeanie to take the big Bible for her load, and that she must be very careful not to let it get wet, or lose it by the way. "For we could not live," said he, "without the good book." So she wrapped a gown around the Bible and started with her father and mother, each of whom carried a child. They had to cross a brook; but they did not dare to go by the bridges lest they should be captured by the enemy. There was a place where they thought they could cross on some stepping stones, but on reaching the place, it had become quite dark. So Jeanie's father waded across, and carried the others one by one, until she was left quite alone. Jeanie was much afraid to be left there by herself, so she started to cross after her father, stepping carefully from stone to stone. But presently her foot slipped, and down she went to the bottom. At the same time, up went her arms, holding the precious burden over her head. The water came up to her waist; but bracing herself firmly against the rapid current, she walked bravely on across the stream, and had nearly reached the shore, with the dear old book lifted as high as she could raise it, when she met her father returning to bring her. "Father," she cried, "you told me to take care of the dear old Bible, and I have done so." Just as she said this, they heard several pistol shots and the sound of approaching horsemen. They soon hid themselves in a little cleft of the rocks, and were not discovered. Jeanie married in after years, and now has great-great-grandchildren living in this country. The old Bible became hers after her father's death, and in it were written the names of her seven children. It is still in very good condition, in the possession of her descendants. Jeanie never forgot that dreadful night when she carried the old Bible through the deep waters, and when she was dying, she seemed to be dreaming of it, and said: "I am in the deep river; but I'll hold up the dear old Bible! There, take the book! take the book!" and she soon ceased to breathe. The brave girl wading through the waters and holding up the Bible is like the Christian church marching through rivers of persecution and streams of blood, ever holding up the word of God, that it might be safely kept and handed down to generations following.—S. S. Visitor. A Mother's Lesson.
By Elizabeth Wood
Mrs. Edson was out one summer afternoon for a walk. It had been hot during the middle of the day, but as the sun grew low there sprung up a breeze, soft and refreshing, that had tempted the lonely woman out of doors. Her heart had been full of tender, sorrowful memories all day, and now, as she passed the home of her neighbor, Mrs. Jones, she stopped to watch little Charlie Jones tugging away at a huge basket of chips, with eyes full of tears. This woman loved all children, but more than any other she seemed to love little boys like Charlie. "Ah, Charlie," she said, "you must be a very good and strong boy to get such a nice lot of chips for your mother. Let me help you with the basket." His cheeks were flushed and his eyes shone like stars as he answered:— "Oh, no, please, Mrs. Edson. I want to tell mother I did every single bit for her myself. I mean to get in every one in that great pile before she and father get home. I guess they'll think I've done pretty well; don't you?" Mrs. Edson bent down to kiss the eager face, so full of boyish love and pride. "Johnny and Hugh wanted me to go off with them, but I'd rather help mother; wouldn't you? You see I'm going to surprise her, Mrs. Edson." With a caution about carrying loads too large for his young arms, she passed on leaving him to the work he was so eager to resume. When she was almost out of sight, looking back, she caught one last glimpse of Charlie busily at work with an air of importance that sat oddly upon his small figure. Coming back an hour later with head and heart rested, Mrs. Edson called in to see Mrs. Jones a few minutes. She had just returned and was removing her outer wrap, but greeted her neighbor most cordially. The two women sat down for a friendly talk, when Charlie came bounding in. "O mother! you can't think what I've been doing! Do come out into the shed one minute and see. Please mamma!" "Hush, child, don't bother me with your nonsense. Don't you see that I am busy and can't stop to see what new mischief you have been up to?" The shining eyes looked with trembling eagerness into her own. "Do come, mamma. I did it all for you, every bit, and it won't take more'n a minute." With a few harsh words she sent him away; and it was with a sorely disappointed face and a lagging step that he went out where he wouldn't "bother." "That boy is always trying to do something wonderfully nice when we go away, and he is perfectly sure to do something horrid," she said to her guest; "but I want to show you how nicely my calla is looking," and she sprung up with alacrity. "I set it out on the shed this noon to shower it, and forgot it before I went away. There are three beautiful blossoms on it, and they are so sweet you must see them." So she went out, and I suppose Charlie must have been lingering around, for through the open door Mrs. Edson could hear his eager voice. "See, mother, isn't there a lot? Enough to boil the tea-kettle a hundred times, I think." There came a sudden cry of dismay, a sound of quick, hard blows, a child's screams, more blows, then silence. Mrs. Jones soon returned to her guest with the angry flush still upon her face, bearing a broken lily. "Don't you think that naughty boy took it into his head to get in a lot of chips, and he must have hit the buds with his basket and knocked this over. I've whipped him so he won't be likely to do such a thing again very soon," and she looked like one who had conquered an enemy. "Of course he denied it, but there was nobody else to do it. It is a wonder that I take any peace at all with such a tearing boy around." Mrs. Edson looked at the calla with a sober face, and could say nothing, her heart was so full of pity for the little boy who had tried so hard to do "something for mother" and failed so signally. Just then Mr. Jones came in, and seeing the broken plant said, carelessly, "If you women must have such things around it might be better not to leave them in the shed for a man to stumble over," and he rubbed his injured leg, lustily. "You didn't break my lily, did you, John?" asked his wife, excitedly. "To be sure; and I shall again if you leave it directly in my way to stumble against," he answered, serenely. Mrs. Jones vanished, and soon came back leading a red-faced, tumble-haired boy, with eyes still wet, and great sobs still shaking his childish figure. Mr. Jones looked up in wonder. "Why Charlie, what is the matter?" "Mamma said that I broke the lily, and she whipped me," he sobbed, "but I didn't. I only brought in the chips; I never touched the lily." "Never mind, Charlie, I broke it myself; so perhaps you saved me a whipping. I guess mamma didn't hurt very badly. Come, wipe your eyes and show father how many chips you brought in." "Dear me," sighed Mrs. Jones "I wish I could always remember to be sure I'm right before I go ahead." But I can hear him laughing this minute. I guess he'll get over it." And she began carelessly to relate some bit of gossip to her friend. Mrs. Edson's thoughts flew back to another warm-hearted, loving little boy, whose life went out in the morning because the mother thought it a trifling thing to "offend one of these little ones." Her resolution was taken, and if any words of hers could avail, her neighbor should be spared from the grief she herself had known. She told Mrs. Jones of watching the busy Charlie trying so manfully to help his mother; of his refusing her aid because he wanted "to do every bit his own self," and of the loving pride manifested in every word and look. "Such love and thoughtfulness, Mrs. Jones, are worth a great deal, even if he had inadvertently done some trifling injury." "I'm afraid I have been all wrong in my dealings with him. Only yesterday I punished him for breaking a plate he dropped while trying to help me clear the dinner table, and he cried himself to sleep because 'mamma didn't love him.'" "If you had taken him on your knee and told him kindly that little boys could help most by doing the kind of work they know how to do, but that you loved him dearly for the kind heart that prompted the effort, I think he would have been as careful to help intelligently next time. Dear Mrs. Jones, don't think I want to lecture you, but I can't bear to think you may have to learn as I did, what a true-hearted boy like Charlie is worth in any home by knowing what that home is without him." So in the twilight Mrs. Edson told her neighbor the story of her own mistakes with her Willie. Years ago, in another State, this other boy had made her quiet home noisy with his fun and frolic. "He was an impulsive, zealous child, forever getting up new plans, and often getting into trouble in his eagerness to do something for his mother." "O Mrs. Jones," she continued, "I'm terribly afraid, when I see mothers harsh and unkind to their children over well-meant mistakes, that sometime they will have to learn the lesson I mastered through bitter tears. I remember how he used to mortify me because his feet would keep moving and his restless hands would not stay folded. I remember telling him one day that the first man who came along that would buy boys I should sell him, and then get Mrs. Hunt to let me take one of her children, who could sit still five minutes at a time. I know now that I grieved his loving heart sorely with my impatience and fault-finding, but then I thought I was only just to him. Day after day, year after year, went by, until more than once I heard him mutter, 'that it wasn't any use to try to please mother,' but the loving heart always prevailed, and in a few minutes he would come with a kiss, and ask me to love him again." "When he was nine years old, came the great sorrow of my life. I never spoke of it before to any one but my husband, and could not now, only to save you from a like fearful sorrow. Your Charlie has the same loving disposition, sensitive to harsh words, and grieving sorely at an injustice." "One day I had made him a new coat with bright buttons, that pleased him wonderfully. He gave me a great hugging and kisses, as if I had never been unkind to him in my life, declaring he would always be good and never do anything to bother me in his life!" "That morning I went with his father to a neighboring town, leaving Willie with many injunctions not to get into mischief. I had said that the next day I must weed my flower-bed without fail. I can see now how he looked as we drove off, Willie shouting, 'I'm going to do just the nicest thing to-day, and there shan't be a bit of mischief in it.'" "When we came home he pulled me out into the yard to see what he had done. His eager fingers had, truly, pulled up the many weeds from among my flowers, but in his zeal and childish ignorance he had destroyed a few choice plants which I had nursed with great care." "He stood with glowing cheeks and eyes like stars, waiting for mamma's kiss and her words of commendation. My anger was too great for me to heed his love and the beseeching in his eyes, or to hold back the bitter words and sharp blows. Ah, my friend, we don't always realize how hard we strike when we are angry." "Poor Willie, he led me out proud and happy; a few minutes later I left him sobbing on the grass, broken-hearted." "I had many things to do that night, and it13was late before I noticed that he had not come in. We waited, but still he lingered, till at last we began to search for him in earnest. It was midnight when we found him, hidden among a clump of spruces half a mile away from home, where he had run to cry out his grief alone. We carried him home, wet with the heavy dew, his face showing still the traces of his tears." "How can I tell you of the days that followed! He never said a rational word to me again. He never seemed to know me. Day after day the fever which exposure had brought on held him in its grasp, and when the crisis came he slipped away from life and his mother, heedless of my bitter prayers for forgiveness." "I shall never forget how he used to cry, 'Oh, tell mamma I didn't mean to hurt her plants. I thought she'd be so glad. Don't let her whip me so! It hurts Willie!'" "At the end of a week the restless feet were still forever and the busy hands quietly folded over the pulseless heart. You can imagine a little my remorse and despair, but God grant you may never know such agony as I felt when, in putting on the last clean garments for his long sleep, and the little coat he had never worn, I found the dark marks on his tender flesh my own hand had made." "Oh, you cannot know now, and if my pain can help you never to know, I shall be glad I have told you. You have known me as a quiet woman, whom nothing seemed to vex, and you told me last week, 'If I had such a trial as you had in the shape of a boy, I couldn't be so happy and serene.'" "Don't, Mrs. Jones, don't cry so for me. I have learned to be almost glad God took him from me. If he had lived, and I had gone on in my old sharp way, I might have driven him into sin and wrong." Mrs. Edson rose to go home, and as Mrs. Jones grasped her hand and with eyes and voice full of tears, she whispered:— "Thank you, dear friend, and I will try with God's help to be more patient with my child's mistakes, and if he is spared to brighten our home still I will lead him as best a mother may to the better home."—Elizabeth Wood, in Arthur's Home Magazine. The Home Circle.
By S. J. Jones
WHY should we mourn that for a little while
Our path must be through rough and thorny ways?
Why should we sorrow that the sun should hide
Behind the clouds his brightly golden rays?
Why should we weep? Nay, why not rather smile?
'Tis, at the longest, but a little while. Why should we murmur that the draught of joy
Is dashed away from lips all parched with pain?
'Tis but a little while—the toil, the heat,
The burning thirst, and then our feet shall gain
The far, cool heights of bliss, and we shall know
The fountain pure that from the Throne doth flow. Why should we grieve that for a little while
Our loved are gathered from our arms away,
And laid to rest beneath the flowers' bloom,
To wait the dawning of a brighter day?
We cannot miss them long, the darkest night
Is but a little while—and then the light! The light that shall illumine all the graves
That we have made and watered with our tears;
That shall light up the path that we have trod
With dread misgivings and with painful fears;
Light that shall tell why He would have it so,
Whose promise is: "Hereafter ye shall know."
—S. J. Jones. "NEVER make an enemy even of a dog," said I to Bobby Ryan, as I caught at his raised hand and tried to prevent him from throwing a stick at our neighbor Howard's great Newfoundland. But my words and effort were too late. Over the fence flew the stick, and whack on Dandy's nose it fell. Now Dandy, a great, powerful fellow, was very good-natured, but this proved a little too much for him. He sprang up with an angry growl, and, bounding over the fence as if he had been as light as a bird, caught Robby Ryan by the arm and held him tightly enough to let his teeth be felt. "Dandy! Dandy!" I cried in momentary alarm, "let go. Don't bite him." The dog lifted his dark-brown, angry eyes to mine with a look of intelligence, and I understood what they said: "I only want to frighten the young rascal." And Bobby was frightened. Dandy held him for a little while, growling savagely, though there was a good deal of make-believe in the growl, and then tossed the arm away, leaped back over the fence, and laid himself down by his kennel. "You are a very foolish boy, Robby Ryan," said I, "to pick a quarrel with such a splendid old fellow as that. Suppose you were to fall into the lake some day, and Dandy happened to be near, and suppose he should remember your bad treatment and refuse to go in after you?" "Wouldn't care," replied Bobby; "I can swim." Now it happened only a week afterward that Bobby was out on the lake in company with an older boy, and that in some way their boat was upset in deep water not far from the shore; and it also happened that Mr. Howard and his dog Dandy were near by and saw the two boys struggling in the water. Quick as thought Dandy sprang into the lake and swam rapidly toward Bobby; but, strange to say, after getting close to the lad, he turned and went toward the larger boy, who was struggling in the water and keeping his head above the surface with difficulty. Seizing him, Dandy brought him safely to the shore. He then turned and looked toward Bobby, his young tormentor; he had a good many old grudges against him, and for some moments seemed hesitating whether to save him or let him drown. "Quick, Dandy!" cried his master, pointing to poor Bobby who was trying his best to keep afloat. He was not the brave swimmer he had thought himself. At this the noble dog bounded again into the water and brought Bobby to land. He did not seem to have much heart in his work, however, for he dropped the boy as soon as he reached the shore, and walked away with a stately, indifferent air. But Bobby, grateful for his rescue and repenting of his former unkindness, made up with Dandy on that very day, and they were ever afterward fast friends. He came very near losing his life through unkindness to a dog, and the lesson it gave him will not soon be forgotten. HENRY FLYNN, of Inskip, Cal., let his three-year-old daughter ride upon a horse, and after she had ridden about forty rods from home, lifted her off the animal, and told her to run home. On returning he found that the child had not reached home. Going to the spot where he last saw her, he saw bear tracks in the sand. Search was made all night in the forest for the lost child. In the morning as the searchers were passing a swampy spot where the undergrowth was thick, they heard her voice. They called to the little girl and told her to come out of the bushes. She replied that the bear would not let her. The men then crept through the brush, and when near the spot heard a splash in the water, which the child said was the bear. They found her standing upon a log extending half-way across the swamp. The bear had undertaken to cross the swamp on the log, and being pursued, left the child, and got away as rapidly as possible. She had received some scratches about the face, arms, and legs, and her clothes were almost torn from her body; but the bear had not bitten her to hurt her, only the marks of his teeth being found on her back, where he had taken hold of her clothes to carry her. The child says the bear put her down occasionally to rest, and would put his nose up to her face, whereupon she would slap him, and the bear would hang his head by her side and purr and rub against her as a cat. The men asked her if she was cold in the night, and she told them that the old bear lay beside her, put his 'arms' around her and kept her warm, though she did not like his long hair.—Vallejo Chronicle. Truth is one of the rarest of virtues. Many a youth has been lost to society by allowing falsehood to tarnish his character, and foolishly throwing truth away. Honesty, frankness, generosity, virtue—blessed traits! Be these yours, my boys, we shall not fear. You are watched by your elders. Men who are looking for clerks and apprentices have their eyes upon you. If you are profane, vulgar, saloon-going, they will not choose you. If you are upright, steady, and industrious, before long you will find good places, kind masters, and the prospect of a useful life before you. ESTABLISHED 1882
By S. Brownsberger
A Model Institution for General Culture. Instruction Given in the Branches of the Usual College Curriculum. Special Attention to Common Branches and the Elements of Learning. Physical Culture and Experience in the Most Common Affairs of Practical Life, and the Useful Trades are Combined in This College with the Study of the Regular School Branches. This College Is Very Successful in the Education of Youth, Because It Is Founded on Correct Principles. 1. The Bible is made the Text-book of Morals and Religion, and nearly every member of the school has Daily Recitations in Biblical History. 2. The union of manual and mental labor among the students will secure to them habits of industry, as well as a knowledge of the most common methods of obtaining a livelihood, and will thus make of them practical men and women. 3. The strong Moral and Religious influence finds its equal in no other Institution of the kind. 4. The expenses of Students for Board, Tuition, etc., come within the ability of all. 5. The Discipline is rigid, and the Instruction is thorough and Practical throughout. One of the most prominent features of Healdsburg College is the effort to impress upon its students the claims and benefits of morals and religion. Any one of known evil habits, who is exerting a pernicious influence upon his fellow-students, is not tolerated in the school. During the year 1883 there was completed a large building called Upon a tract of five acres of ground, the whole designed for a Students' Home, where will be afforded the best home influence, and an opportunity for combining manual labor with study. No other institution offers so favorable facilities on so reasonable terms. To those who wish to obtain instruction in the Bible, Old and New Testament History, &c., special inducements are offered. A class will be opened at the beginning of the Spring Term, for old and young. Is connected with the College to accommodate those children whose parents desire to place them under the instruction and moral influence of the school. The Spring Term began January 2, 1884, and closes May 29, 1884. Any information, and calendar sent on application. Address, S. BROWNSBERGER. A. M., President, Healdsburg, Cal. "As the twig is bent the tree's inclined." How the Inhabitants of Ischia Were Warned.
An Italian writer on the dreadful catastrophe which occurred so recently on the island of Ischia, mentions those prognostications of an earthquake which are derived from animals. They were observed in every place where the shocks were such as to be generally perceptible. Some minutes before they were felt the oxen and cows began to bellow, the sheep and goats bleated, and rushing in confusion one on the other, tried to break the wicker-work of the folds. The dogs howled, the geese and fowls were alarmed and made much noise; the horses which were fastened in the stalls were greatly agitated, leaped up and down and tried to break the halters with which they were attached to the mangers; those on the road stopped suddenly and snorted in a very strange way. The cats were much frightened and tried to conceal themselves, or their hair bristled up wildly. Rabbits and moles were seen to leave their holes; birds rose as if scared from the places on which they had alighted; and fish left the bottom of the sea and approached the shores, where at some places great numbers of them were taken. Even ants and reptiles abandoned, in clear daylight, their subterranean holes in great disorder, many hours before the shocks were felt. The dogs, a few minutes before the first shock took place, awoke their sleeping masters by barking and pulling them, as if they wished to warn them of the impending danger, and many persons were thus enabled to save themselves. —One of the Baptist Churches at Bristol, England, will pay for the outfit and passage of fourteen missionaries to China. —Advices from Rome state that several new cardinals will be appointed in March, and America will probably get one of them. —Parlor Sunday-schools are the latest means used for reaching those of the upper classes of London society who are not regular church attendants. —It is said by those who claim to know, that the State of New York has 770,000 persons of school age who are not under any religious instruction whatever, either Protestant or Catholic. —The Reformed Episcopal Church has just celebrated its tenth anniversary. It has seventy-three church buildings, and eighty-five congregations. Its Sunday-school scholars number 11,000, teachers 1,000. It has $1,000,000 invested in real estate, and its income last year for missionary purposes was $184,500. —We heartily indorse the following sentiment from the San Francisco Christian Advocate: 'While we earnestly believe in the doctrine of justification by faith, we know of no way to save men who will not obey God. 'Obedience is better than sacrifice.'' —The German missionaries of Ranchi, India, held a grand demonstration in honor of Martin Luther, on the four hundredth anniversary of his birth, in which thirty-five thousand native Christians took part. The Christian at Work notes this fact as 'a striking comment on the far-reaching influence of a single life.' —Rev. Mr. Maturin, of Halifax, a clergyman of the Church of England, in a recent sermon, took strong ground in favor of confession and absolution, claiming that the only divinely instituted means whereby men could have the assurance of absolution was through the apostolic priesthood. He declared that the priests of the Church of England were given power to forgive sins, and that it was right and proper that confession should be made to them. His views, which are held by another clergyman of the same place, are causing considerable excitement. —The N. Y. Examiner's Boston correspondent says: 'The Thanksgiving sermons of some of our Congregational ministers indicated a desire for a return to the good old Puritan times, when Church and State were one, and religion was a formal element in civil life. Some of them asserted that a State is atheistic which does not recognize God in its constitution and proclaim its law to be the rule of its public life. Baptists have an idea that a State is religious when its citizens lead Christian lives, and that it is far more effective to put the law of Christ into individual hearts than into public statutes.' —A Catholic paper, referring to the marriage of a Protestant clergyman's daughter, remarks that 'it is only Lutheran bishops, and those of other sects, who can so ably discharge those double duties and reconcile them. The Catholic Church sides with St. Paul, and by the celibacy of her clergy, insures all their devotion and attention to the people. They have no wives, and consequently have no daughters to provide with husbands.' Whereupon the Independent makes the following brief comment: 'Henry, Bishop of Liege, a good Catholic prelate of the time of Gregory X., publicly boasted that he had fourteen children born to him in twenty-two months. He was not tried, nor suspended, nor condemned.' —Matthew Arnold, the English exponent of cultured infidelity, says in a recent work: 'Our popular religion at present conceives the birth, ministry, and death of Christ, as altogether steeped in prodigy, brimful of miracle,—and miracles do not happen.' Indeed they do not happen, and least of all the miracle of Christ's birth, death, and resurrection. That was part of the purpose of God from the foundation of the world. Miracles are not the work of chance, but are always performed for a purpose. We may not always be able to discern the purpose, but that does not alter the fact. The world has moved ever since its creation, in spite of the fact that the greater portion of mankind have not been able to comprehend it, and have disbelieved it. —The Independent says: 'The Lord Mayor of London is called a Sabbatarian, and he does not resent the designation. Indeed he adopts it in a published letter, in which he announces himself as opposed to removing the restrictions on Sunday trading, and to the opening of museums on Sunday.' All we have to say on the subject is that the Lord Mayor of London, and those who call him a Sabbatarian, would do well to consult a standard dictionary. A Sabbatarian, according to Worcester, is 'one who observes the seventh day of the week as the Sabbath, instead of the first, as the Jews, the Seventh-day Baptists, &c.; one who observes the Sabbath with great strictness.' 'The seventh day is the Sabbath,' and however strictly a man may observe Sunday, he is in no sense a Sabbatarian. To give him such a title is as inconsistent as it would be to call a man a Christian because he worships Mohammed.