COULD God's people realize how his providence has been over his cause and work in every age of the world, unbelief would not have that prominent place in their hearts that it now has. A power has ever gone with, and been manifested in behalf of faithful devotion. God has raised up men at the right time with the necessary qualifications for the advancement of his cause. Ziska was a man of God's providence, raised up for the struggle through which the church was then passing. He had but one object before him and that was to do what he believed was God's will. God gave him especial wisdom and most remarkable success. In boyhood he had lost the sight of one eye and at the siege of Raby he lost the other eye; from which time he was totally blind. But his marvelous genius for arranging the army and directing its movements did not leave him. When it became known that his eyes were both gone his enemies rejoiced, thinking that then he and his people would be an easy prey; but unlike Samson, his hands were not bound, and he smote his enemies with swift, terrible, and unerring blows; and having overwhelmed them in ruin, himself retired from the field victorious.
His modes of warfare were as novel as they were successful. His wagons were linked together by strong chains, and arranged in lines. This formed a fortification through which the enemy must always come before they could reach his forces. This was called a wagenburg, and sometimes it was made to surround the whole army. Behind this rampart arose another, formed of the long wooden shields of the soldiers, stuck in the ground. These were formidable obstructions to the German cavalry, which was armed with pikes and battle axes. While they were hewing away at the wagons, in order to force their way through them, the Bohemian archers were plying them with their arrows. Thus their leading men were picked off, and their ranks greatly thinned before they could fight at all. This brought confusion into their ranks and greatly weakened them, while to the Bohemians it was mere sport. After the Germans had with great effort forced their way through this double fortification, they still found themselves working at great disadvantage. The Bohemians were armed with long iron flails, which they swung with prodigious force. Whenever they struck an enemy with one of these flails, and they never missed their aim, it would break through his helmet and crush his head. They also carried long spears which had hooks. With these they would bring the German horsemen speedily to the ground, and then dispatch them with their iron flails. Ziska fought in all, sixteen pitched battles, and from all of them he retired a conqueror.
The career of this remarkable man did not end on the battle-field. He did not fall by the sword. While occupied in the siege of Pryshislav, he was attacked by the plague, and died Oct. 11, 1424. It is said that on his death-bed he gave directions to have a drum made of his skin, believing that its sound would terrify the enemy, and years afterward a drum, said to be the one, was shown in a museum at Prague. Some historians, however, say that this is false, and no doubt it is. It would seem that the providence of God raised up this man to vindicate a people who were determined to protect God's word.
Before his death Ziska nominated as his successor, one Procopius. With his death came a feeling of depression among the Bohemians. They could not believe that any other man could do as well. But it was as it has ever been in God's cause, when his providence removes one man, it supplies another equally fitted to perform the work that he designs shall be done.
Notwithstanding Procopius was looked upon with suspicion for a time, he proved to have a knowledge in conducting the armies of the Bohemians which was not inferior to that of Ziska. He was the son of a noble of small fortune; a man of excellent education, which his maternal uncle, who had adopted him, had taken great care that he should receive. Not only this, but he had given him the advantages of traveling in many countries, the Holy Land among others, and his taste had been refined, and his understanding enlarged, by what he had seen and heard abroad. He had entered this warfare under Ziska with all his heart. His devotion to the cause was as ardent as Ziska's. If his spirit was less fiery, it was not because he was less brave. Ziska was a soldier, and a general; Procopius was a statesman in addition; and for that time, proved a better man than Ziska.
The remarkable feature in all the Bohemian wars was the religious sentiment that prevailed among the people and nerved them to action. Although different from the Waldenses as we have before explained, they adhered to the principles which they had adopted. They believed without a doubt that the time had come when the word of God should be preached in the Bohemian language, when there should be liberty of conscience, and when a reform should take place. They thought that they should defend themselves from their enemies for the sake of God's cause. It was this spirit that inspired them in every battle. It may be a question whether all their moves were right, but one thing is certain, God's providence was over them, and his blessing attended their efforts for many years, while they strictly adhered to principle.
At the death of Ziska their enemies took courage. The emperor was beginning to disrelish battles with them; although his army was much superior to theirs; but the pope continued to use all of his influence and power to keep up the crusade until all the heretics, as he called them, should be put out of existence. He urged Sigismund on, by repeatedly declaring to him that it was a more meritorious work to bring about the extirpation of the Bohemian adversaries than it was to overthrow the Turk, who was continually making inroads upon his territory. At intervals he would issue bulls ordaining new crusades against the Hussites. He wrote to the king of Poland exhorting him to extirpate the Bohemian heresy, and he sent legates to see to the execution of his wishes. All through Europe, wherever his influence was felt, he endeavored to raise means with which to subdue the Bohemians, and to inspire a spirit of warfare against them. It was his determination to rid Bohemia of his terrible adversaries. S. N. H.
Oregon.
By William Potter; H. W. Reed
ALBANY.—We commenced a series of meetings here June 12. From the first to the last we had but very little opposition publicly. The "stay away argument" was used by the ministers, and quite strictly obeyed by their followers. There are eight church buildings, and no less than ten religious denominations in the place. Considering the prejudice that exists among the church people of the city, our meetings were well attended. Only two opposition sermons were preached—one upon the Sabbath question the other upon the kingdom—both were reviewed in the tent with good results.
During our seven weeks of labor we have held fifty-six meetings. Twelve signed the covenant, three of whom were Sabbath-keepers when we went there. Two began the observance of the Sabbath and went from the place before the covenant was presented. One of these is now in Battle Creek, assisting in the German work. He is capable of teaching in the German, Latin, Greek, and Hebrew. Two others are keeping the Sabbath, who did not feel free to sign the covenant at present. One has left the place since signing the covenant, thus leaving a company of thirteen in Albany to hold up the light of present truth. A Sabbath-school was organized. Our donations amounted to $53.65; our book sales to $23.25. We feel that God has greatly blessed our efforts, for which we daily praise and thank him.
HALSEY.—We are now in Halsey, and nearly ready for meetings which we are to commence Sunday, August 8. This is a small town of about 250 inhabitants. We learn that one religious body has already been warned not to come out and hear us. We trust that God's people will pray for us.
FROM the last supper Jesus repaired with his disciples to the garden of Gethsemane, at the foot of Mount Olivet, a retired place which he had often visited for seasons of communion with his Father. It was night; but the moon was shining brightly, and revealed to him a flourishing grape-vine. Drawing the attention of the disciples to it, he said: "I am the true vine, and my Father is the husbandman. Every branch in me that beareth not fruit he taketh away; and every branch that beareth fruit, he purgeth it, that it may bring forth more fruit."
THE Jewish nation was a fruitless branch, and was therefore to be separated from the living vine, which was Christ Jesus. The Gentiles were to be engrafted upon the stalk, to become a living branch, partaker of the life that nourished the true vine. This branch was to be pruned that it might be fruitful. In view of his separation from his disciples, Jesus now523exhorted them to connect themselves firmly to him by faith, that they might become a part of the living Vine, and bear a rich harvest of fruit. "Abide in me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself, except it abide in the vine; no more can ye, except ye abide in me. I am the vine, ye are the branches. He that abideth in me, and I in him, the same bringeth forth much fruit; for without me ye can do nothing."
WHEN the sinner has repented of his sins, and is united with Christ, as the branch is engrafted in the vine, the nature of the man is changed, and he is a partaker of the divine nature. He loves the things that Christ loves, and hates that which he hates. His desires are in harmony with the will of God. He treasures up the words of Christ, and they abide in him. The life-giving principle of the Saviour is communicated to the Christian. Just so the little scion, leafless and apparently lifeless, is engrafted into the living vine, and fiber by fiber, vein by vein, drinks life and strength from it, till it becomes a flourishing branch of the parent stalk.
HE still impressed upon them the importance of carrying forward the work which he had begun, and bearing fruit to the glory of God: "Ye have not chosen me, but I have chosen you, and ordained you, that ye should go and bring forth fruit, and that your fruit should remain; that whatsoever ye shall ask of the Father in my name, he may give it you." The disciples were the chosen depositaries of the truth of God. They were witnesses of the Father's acknowledgement of Jesus as the Son of God. They had beheld his miracles, heard his teachings, and it was theirs to give the message of salvation to the world, that through their evidence men might lay hold of Christ by living faith. Thus would the disciples bring forth fruit to the glory of God.
JESUS assured his disciples that he would in no case forsake them, but would be clothed with power, and would become their Advocate at the right hand of the Father, to present the petitions they might ask in the name of his Son. The disciples did not then fully comprehend the words of their Master, but later in their religious experience they cherished the precious promise, and presented their prayers to the Father in the name of Jesus.—Mrs. E. G. White, in Great Controversy.
"YE are my friends." There is something inexpressibly touching in these words. To be Christ's friends—what glory or blessedness is greater? If a human father should say of his child, "He is not only my son, but also my friend," it would be an ascription of something more excellent than filial loyalty to his son. In some such sense, more easily felt than defined, the Saviour says to all who keep his commandments, "Ye are my friends." It denotes the most intimate and confidential and unreserved communion.
"THESE things have I spoken unto you, that my joy might remain in you, and that your joy might be full." There is no motive so controlling over the Christian's will as the adequate appreciation of Christ as he is. Out of the many views of this divine Friend which this allegory solicits us to take, this one is perhaps the most powerful. The agony of Gethsemane and the horrors of the crucifixion were just before him, and their shadows were shrouding his soul. He was on the way to "lay down his life for his friends." And yet, for some mysterious reason, he was filled with sacred joy.
HE speaks these words of the Father's love and his own love to the sorrowing disciples that he may soothe their grief and impart to them his joy and fill them with their own proper joy. Why should not they rejoice even in tribulation when he was rejoicing under his mighty woes? His sacred bliss was founded in the mutual love and communion of himself and the Father. But as the Father loved him, so he loved them. In him they had the same foundation for abiding joy. Why should not they abide in his love as he "abides in his Father's love"? That they may share this full joy he spoke these words even at such a time.
WHAT a Friend to us wretched and sinful men, who are the cause of all his unparalleled woe! And yet if we abide not in his love as he abides in the Father's love, we have no joy. "In the world" his disciples shall have tribulation, but "in him they shall have peace." None but God could be such a Friend. Yes, that joy at that time—and, what is more, the tender solicitude to impart it and lead his followers into full abiding joy, and the friendly and confidential and unreserved revelation—declare him to be the true Vine, humanity glorified by indwelling Deity, in whom we have everlasting joy and gladness. "We know whom we have believed." We love him and one another. This is the perfection of a fruitful branch.—J. A. LeFevre, D. D., in Half Hours with the Lessons.
L. A. SCOTT
By L. A. Scott
From the Hawaiian Islands.
ABOUT three weeks ago I went to the island of Maui, and remained over two Sabbaths. The plantations and residences on this island I found much more difficult of access than on Kauai; and although I came in contact with more people, I found a far less proportion of them who were willing to read and investigate the truths so precious to us. What is known here as the "Missionary" element largely prevails on this island. Still I found some who were willing to subscribe for our periodicals, and invest in books on these subjects.
I sold forty-five dollars' worth of books, and obtained seventeen yearly subscribers to the SIGNS. Three or four others here have recently signified their intention to obey God rather than man, and are now meeting with us regularly; and we trust will yet become useful workers here among the natives. One of them, whose birth and education gives him quite an influence among his people, will, no doubt, be very useful in translating when he is thoroughly acquainted with the doctrines.
So the truth is reaching hearts, in spite of the enemy, and we are glad and give God the glory. Paul may plant and Apollos water, but God giveth the increase. We rejoice at the progress of the cause in every quarter of the globe, and in the prosperity of all the institutions that the Lord has raised up to help forward this great work of warning the world of its impending doom, and preparing a people to meet the King at his coming.
L. A. SCOTT
THE LAW OF GOD.
The Shadowy Sabbaths and the Enduring Sabbath.
(Lesson 21.—Sabbath, September 11.)
1. WHAT does Paul say that Christ has blotted out?
"Blotting out the handwriting of ordinances that was against us, which was contrary to us, and took it out of the way, nailing it to his cross." Col. 2:14.
2. What else has he done to these ordinances? Col. 2:14, last part.
3. Because this has been done, in respect to what are we not to be judged?
"Let no man therefore judge you in meat, or in drink, or in respect of an holy day, or of the new moon, or of the sabbath days." Col. 2:16.
4. On what were the ten commandments written?
"And the Lord spake unto you out of the midst of the fire; ye heard the voice of the words, but saw no similitude; only ye heard a voice. And he declared unto you his covenant, which he commanded you to perform, even ten commandments; and he wrote them upon two tables of stone." "These words the Lord spake unto all your assembly in the mount out of the midst of the fire, of the cloud, and of the thick darkness, with a great voice; and he added no more. And he wrote them in two tables of stone, and delivered them unto me." Deut. 4:12, 13; 5:22.
5. How were they graven on these tables of stone?
"And Moses turned, and went down from the mount, and the two tables of the testimony were in his hand; the tables were written on both their sides; on the one side and on the other were they written. And the tables were the work of God, and the writing was the writing of God, graven upon the tables." Ex. 32:15, 16.
6. Could words engraved in stone be blotted out?—No.
7. Would it be proper to speak of "nailing to the cross" a law that was engraved in stone?—Not at all.
8. Then what must we conclude concerning the law spoken of in Col. 2:14?—That it has no connection with the ten commandments.
9. How did the ordinances that were blotted out stand related to men?
"Blotting out the handwriting of ordinances that was against us, which was contrary to us, and took it out of the way, nailing it to his cross." Col. 2:14.
10. Is the Sabbath of the Lord contrary to us?
"And he said unto them, The Sabbath was made for man, and not man for the Sabbath." Mark 2:27.
11. When was the Sabbath made for man?
"Thus the heavens and the earth were finished, and all the host of them. And on the seventh day God ended his work which he had made; and he rested on the seventh day from all his work which he had made. And God blessed the seventh day, and sanctified it; because that in it he had rested from all his work which God created and made." Gen. 2:1-3.
12. What was man's condition at that time?
"And God saw everything that he had made, and, behold, it was very good. And the evening and the morning were the sixth day." Gen. 1:31. "Lo, this only have I found, that God hath made man upright; but they have sought out many inventions." Eccl. 7:29.
13. Did man then stand in need of a Saviour?—No. See 1 Tim. 1:15.
14. But what was the object of the sabbaths mentioned in Col. 2:16?
"Which are a shadow of things to come; but the body is of Christ." Verse 17.
16. How often did each of these sabbaths come?—Once a year.
17. Did the Lord command these sabbaths with his own voice as he did the Sabbath of the fourth commandment?
"And the Lord spake unto Moses, saying," "These are the feasts of the Lord, even holy convocations, which ye shall proclaim in their seasons." Lev. 23:1, 4.
18. Were they to be confounded with the seventh-day Sabbath?
"These are the feasts of the Lord, which ye shall proclaim to be holy convocations, to offer an offering made by fire unto the Lord, a burnt offering, and a meat offering, a sacrifice; and drink offerings, everything upon his day; beside the Sabbaths of the Lord, and beside your gifts, and beside all your vows, and beside all your freewill offerings, which ye give unto the Lord." Lev. 23:37, 38.
19. Repeat the fourth commandment.
"Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy. Six days shalt thou labor, and do all thy work; but the seventh day is the Sabbath of the Lord thy God; in it thou shalt not do any work, thou, nor thy son, nor thy daughter, thy manservant, nor thy maidservant, nor thy cattle, nor thy stranger that is within thy gates; for in six days the Lord made heaven and earth, the sea, and all that in them is, and rested the seventh day; wherefore the Lord blessed the Sabbath day, and hallowed it." Ex. 20:8-11.
20. How long is this to remain unchanged?
"The works of his hands are verity and judgment; all his commandments are sure. They stand fast forever and ever, and are done in truth and uprightness." Ps. 111:7, 8. "Concerning thy testimonies, I have known of old that thou hast founded them forever." "Thy word is true from the beginning; and every one of thy righteous judgments endureth forever." Ps. 119:152, 160.
Christ, Turning Point of History
By Schaff
As Christ stands at the end of the ancient world, so he stands also at the beginning of the new. He is at once the ripened fruit of the history before, and the fertile seed of the history after his coming. He is the turning point in the biography of our race, the glory of the past and the hope of the future.—Schaff.
Blessed Is the Man That Feareth the Lord
"Blessed is the man that feareth the Lord, that delighteth greatly in his commandments." Ps 112:1.
'Thou Art the Man.'
'It's the last straw that breaks the camel's back,' said Lucy, bursting into tears.
The pleasant June sunbeams came peeping into the cool, stone-paved dairy, where pans of milk were ranged in orderly array. Great stone pots stood under the shelves, and a blue-painted churn was already placed on the table for service.
Mr. Bellenden was justly proud of his dairy. Not a chance guest came to the house but was invited down to see it; not a housekeeper in the neighborhood but secretly envied its many conveniences and exquisite neatness.
'And it isn't the dairy alone,' triumphantly remarked Mr. Bellenden. 'You may go through the house from garret to cellar, and you'll never find a speck of dust. There never was such a housekeeper as my wife.'
Mrs. Bellenden was young, too—scarcely three and twenty. She had been the daughter of a retired army officer, delicately reared, and quite ignorant of all the machinery of domestic life until she married Seth Bellenden.
'It's very strange,' Lucy had written to her father. 'The farm is beautiful. You never saw such monstrous old buttonball trees, nor such superb roses, and the meadows are full of red clover, and the strawberries shine like jewels on the sunny hillsides. But nobody sketches or reads. All they think of is how many eggs the hens lay, and how many cheeses they can make in a year. And the woman who has a new receipt for waffles, or a new pattern for a horrible thing they call 'crazy quilts,' is the leader in society.'
But presently young Mrs. Bellenden herself caught the fever, and became a model housewife.
Example is all-powerful, and Lucy began to believe that the whole end and aim in life was domestic thrift, money-saving, and the treadmill of work.
'My dear,' said Seth, 'if you thought you could get along without Hepsy—the maid—I might be able to afford that new reaper before the oat crop comes in.'
'I'll try,' said Lucy.
After this she rose before daybreak, and worked later in the night than ever.
'What is the matter with your hands, Lucy?' Seth asked one day. 'They are not so white and beautiful as they used to be.'
Lucy colored as she glanced down at the members in question.
'I suppose it is from starting fires,' said she.
And then she took to wearing old kid gloves at her sweeping and dusting, and digging out of the ashes.
'My coat is getting shabby,' Seth one day remarked.
'Why don't you buy another one?' asked his wife.
Seth laughed a short laugh.
'What do you think Mrs. Higginbotham has done?' said he. 'She has ripped up her husband's old suit, and cut a pattern by it, and made a new one, and entirely saved him ten dollars.'
'I could do that,' said Lucy, with sparkling eyes. 'I'll try it.'
'You could do anything, my dear,' said Mr. Bellenden, admiringly.
And Lucy felt that she had her rich reward.
Company began to come as soon as the bright weather set in.
All the affectionate relatives of Mr. Bellenden soon discovered that the farm-house was cool and shady, that Lucy's cooking was excellent, and that the bedrooms were neatness itself.
Some of them were good enough to bring their relatives as well, and so the house was full from April to December.
All the clergymen made their home at Brother Bellenden's when they came to Sylvan Bridge for ecclesiastical conventions; all the agents for unheard-of articles discovered that they knew somebody who was acquainted with the Bellendens, and brought their carpet-bags and valises, with that faith in human hospitality which is one of life's best gifts.
Mrs. Bellenden's fame went abroad among the Dorcases of the neighborhood in the matter of butter and cheese; she took the prize in the domestic department of all the agricultural fairs, and the adjoining housewives took no trouble to make things they could borrow of Mrs. Bellenden, 'just as well as not.'
And one day, when poor Lucy, under the blighting influence of a horrible sick headache, was endeavoring to strain three or four gallons of milk into the shining pans, the news arrived that Uncle Paul was coming to the farm.
'Another guest,' said Lucy, despairingly.
And then she uttered the proverb that heads our sketch.
'Oh, it's only Uncle Paul!' said Mr. Bellenden. 'Don't fret, Lutie; he's the most peaceable old gentleman in the world. He'll make no more trouble than a cricket. John's wife thought she could not have him because she had no hired girl just now'—
'Neither have I,' said Lucy, rebelliously.
'And Sarah Eliza don't like company.'
'And I am supposed to be fond of it,' observed Lucy, bitterly.
'And Reuben's girls don't want old folks staying there, it's too much trouble,' added Seth.
Lucy bit her lips to keep back the words she might have said.
'Where is he to sleep? The Belfords have the front room, and your Cousin Susie occupies the back, and the four Misses Patterson sleep in the two hall chambers, and the hired men have the garret room.'
She might have added that she and her husband and the baby had slept in a hot little den opening from the kitchen for four weeks, vainly expecting Mr. and Mrs. Belford to depart, and that she had never yet had a chance to invite her father to the farm in pleasant weather.
But she was magnanimous, and held her peace.
'Oh, you can find some place for him!' said her husband lightly. 'There's that little room at the end of the hall where the spinning-wheel is.'
'But it isn't furnished,' pleaded Lucy.
'You can easily sew a carpet together out of those old pieces from the Belfords' room, and it's no trouble to put up a muslin curtain to the window, and lift in a cot bed. There are plenty of good, sweet husks in the corn house, and you can just tack a mattress together, and white-wash the ceiling, and—
'What's that, Beniah? The cows in the rye lot! Dear me! Everything goes wrong if I step into the house a moment. And really Lutie, those things are your business, and not mine!' he added irritably.
Lucy could not help laughing all to herself as her husband ran up the steps. But it was a very sad little laugh, and soon changed into a sigh.
But this little bedroom was fitted up for all that, as fresh as a rose, and Uncle Paul arrived—a dried-up, yellow-complexioned old man, with an old-fashioned cravat tied in many folds around his neck, and a suit of navy blue with brass buttons.
He had the polite way of half a century ago, and Lucy thought she should like him very much, if she only had time to get acquainted with him.
But she was churning ten pounds of butter a day; and there was the baby, and the company, and the young chickens, and the baking to do for the sewing society, which was to meet at her house that week.
She was almost too busy to sleep.
But Uncle Paul was watching her quietly all the time.
He came out one day to the barn where his nephew was putting a new handle on a sickle-blade.
'Pretty busy times, eh, Uncle Paul?' asked the farmer, scarcely taking the leisure to look up.
'Aye,' absently answered the old man. 'Did I tell you, Nephew Seth, about the reason I left your Cousin Eliab's?'
'Not that I remember,' said Seth, breathing on the blade and polishing it with his silk handkerchief.
'Dorothy died—his wife.'
'Oh, yes,' said Seth. 'Malarial fever, wasn't it?'
'No!' bluntly answered Uncle Paul. 'It was hard work. That woman, Nephew Seth, did the housework for eight persons. Eliab did not even let her have a woman to help her with the washing and the ironing.'
'Must have been a regular going brute,' said Seth, tightening the handle a little.
'All the sewing, too,' added Uncle Paul, 'the mending and making. Never went anywhere, except to church. Eliab didn't believe in women gadding about.'
'The old savage!' said Seth.
'She was fond of reading, but she never had any time for it,' said Uncle Paul. 'She rose before sun-up, and never lay down until eleven o'clock. It was hard work that killed that woman, and Eliab coolly declared that it was sheer laziness when she could not drag herself around any longer. And when she died, he rolled up his eyes and called it a visitation of Providence.'
'Why didn't the neighbors lynch him?' cried Seth, fairly aroused to indignation at last.
Uncle Paul took off his glasses, wiped them vigorously, and looked his nephew hard in the face.
'Why don't the neighbors lynch you?' said he.
Seth dropped his sickle, and stared.
'Nephew Seth,' said Uncle Paul, impressively, 'Thou art the man!' Are you not doing the same thing?'
'I!' gasped Seth.
'Your wife is doing the work of a household of sixteen people,' said Uncle Paul. 'She is drudging as you could hire no foreigner to drudge. She is rising early and lying down late. She is offering up her life on the shrine of your farm and its requirements. I have seen her grow thin and pale, even during the few days I have been here. I have carried water and split wood for her, because there was no one to do it. I have seen her carry up Mrs. Belford's breakfast daily to her room, because Mrs. Belford preferred to lie in bed; and525cooking dainty dishes for Helen Patterson, because Helen couldn't eat what the rest liked. No galley slave ever worked as she does. And you, with your hired men, whose board only adds to her cares, and your labor-saving machinery, stand coolly by and see her commit slow suicide. Yes, Nephew Seth, I think it is a case for lynching!'
Seth had grown pale.
'I—I never thought of this,' said he. 'Why didn't some one tell me?'
'Where were your own eyes?' asked Uncle Paul.
Seth Bellenden rolled down his shirt sleeves, put on his coat and went into the house. He told the Belfords and Pattersons that it was inconvenient to keep them any longer. He gave Cousin Susan to understand that her room was needed. He made arrangements to board the hired men at a vacant farmhouse, and engaged a stout dairyman and a house servant to wait on Lucy. He telegraphed to her father to come to Sylvan Bridge at once.
'She deserves a treat,' he said, 'He shall spend the summer with us.'
And then he went to tell Lucy.
She had fainted among the butter-cups, picking strawberries for tea.
Poor little Lucy! The machinery had refused to revolve any longer.
His heart grew cold within him.
'She will die,' he thought, 'and I shall have murdered her!'
But she did not die. She recovered her strength by degrees.
And Uncle Paul, 'the last straw,' as she had called him, had proved her salvation.
'I didn't want her to go as Eliab's wife did,' said Uncle Paul.—Home Circle.
The Home Circle.
ONLY A SMILE.
ONLY a smile that was given me
In the crowded street one day!
But it pierced the gloom of my saddened heart
Like a sudden sunbeam's ray.
The shadow of doubt hung over me,
And the burden of pain I bore;
And the voice of hope I could not hear,
Though I listened o'er and o'er.
But there came a rift in the crowd about,
And a face that I knew passed by,
And the smile I caught was brighter to me
Than the blue of a summer sky;
For it gave me back the sunshine clear,
And scattered each somber thought,
And my heart rejoiced in the kindling warmth
Which that kindly smile had wrought.
Only a smile from a friendly face
On the busy street that day!
Forgotten as soon as given, perhaps,
As the donor went her way;
But straight to my heart it went speeding
To gild the clouds that were there,
And I found that of sunshine and life's blue skies
I also might take my share.
Tobacco Catechism.
TWELVE reasons why no rational being should use tobacco.
1. The habit is at war with temperance. Tobacco is an intoxicant, it is a part of the merchandise of dram shops, and an incentive to drunkenness.
2. The habit is a self-indulgence. It hinders moral reform and impedes progress.
3. The habit is essentially filthy. No Christian gentleman should fill the air with poisoned smoke or deluge the floor with liquid filthiness.
4. The lips of the tobacco-chewer or habitual smoker are swelled and saturated with a disgusting poison. The gums are spongy and tender, and the whole mouth and throat affected by its use.
5. The habit impairs digestion, brings on consumption, and weakens the constitution.
6. The habit injures the voice. The smoker generally articulates huskily. The chewer often croaks. The snuffer speaks indistinctly, as he cannot breathe through his nose.
7. The habit is costly. Official statistics show that more money is spent for tobacco in the United States every year than for bread.
8. The habit often lowers the self-respect of those who practice it. "I love my pipe," said a clergyman, "but despise myself for using it."
9. The habit disturbs the regular pulsation of the heart; tobacco-users are thus in constant danger; many fall dead suddenly.
10. The habit weakens the mind. It enfeebles the memory, paralyzes the will, produces morbid irritability, diseases the imagination, and deadens the moral sensibilities.
11. The habit is at rebellion against conscience. The user knows that it wastes time, money, strength, and life, and tramples upon the laws of nature, which are the laws of God.
12. The habit is as contagious as the cholera.—Silver Star Catechism.