EVERY week we see much to encourage us in the mission work. The silent messengers are sent from here to all parts of the known world. A short time ago we received a very interesting letter from a missionary in Calcutta, asking for a supply of SIGNS, etc., to scatter around. We sent him about three hundred copies, and when we can get our stock replenished, we will send him, and others, another supply. I have often been to these countries, and I feel sure that much good can be done in the East India countries, there being such great numbers of Europeans, and all of them speaking the English language, besides many of the educated natives.
A short time since we sent a bundle of the SIGNS to Japan. There are many opportunities presented here to send our publications to all parts of the world. We have been in England nearly five years, and during that period of time we have seen many interesting cases, and we feel a deeper interest in the work now than ever before. We see more to be done than we can find time to do, but we pray that the Lord will send forth more laborers into the wide harvest field. There are several important ports here where we should have at least one missionary at work. Our work here is largely in the English, German, and the Scandinavian languages, with some in the Holland. We feel continually of good courage to toil on, ever filling that place which will please God, and be for the advancement of the cause; and if the signs of the times, and the hardness of human hearts, are a criterion to judge by, then it seems certain that the coming of the Lord is fast approaching, and what we do must be done quickly.
Several months ago, we received a number of Bible-readings from Oakland; we put them on board ships, showing the sailors how to use them. If our friends in California have any more to spare, we should feel thankful for them. I feel to rejoice to see how much the message is being spread, and I long to see the earth lightened with its glory. I am thankful to have a humble part in this solemn message.
If our friends in Oakland could send us some boxes of reading matter by some sailing ships coming to Liverpool, we should be glad. In that way they would be long in coming, yet that would be a cheap way, and would help us much; we can use anything in the English, Scandinavian, and German languages. There is a sister here by the name of Stanton, who was baptized in Oakland several years ago; she is firm in the truth and often talks about our friends in Oakland and San Francisco. She joins with us in best wishes for the blessing of the Lord to rest upon you.
Our address is 12 The Woodlands, Birkenhead, Cheshire, England. GEO. R. DREW.
June 15, 1886.
California.
By E. A. Briggs
DUARTE, LOS ANGELES COUNTY:—I have been holding meetings in this vicinity for about two months, which have resulted in five baptisms, and fourteen persons taking a stand to keep all the commandments of God and the faith of Jesus. As there were several Seventh-day Adventists here before I came, we have organized a church and Sabbath-school, and have started a tract and missionary society of fifteen members. We trust that the present truth is permanently established at this place; and that our brethren here will not only "hold the fort," but exert themselves to spread the truth abroad. I expect to begin tent-meetings tonight in Pomona, Los Angeles County; which will be my post-office address until August fifteenth.
JESUS had often found the rest that his weary human nature required, at the house of Lazarus, in Bethany. His first visit there was when he and his disciples were weary from a toilsome journey on foot from Jericho to Jerusalem. They tarried as guests at the quiet home of Lazarus, and were ministered unto by his sisters, Martha and Mary. Notwithstanding the fatigue of Jesus, he continued the instruction which he had been giving his disciples on the road, in reference to the qualifications necessary to fit men for the kingdom of Heaven. The peace of Christ rested upon the home of the brother and sisters. Martha had been all anxiety to provide for the comfort of her guests, but Mary was charmed by the words of Jesus to his disciples, and, seeing a golden opportunity to become better acquainted with the doctrines of Christ, quietly entered the room where he was sitting, and, taking her place at the feet of Jesus, drank in eagerly every word that fell from his lips.
The energetic Martha was meanwhile making ample preparations for the entertainment of her guests, and missed her sister's help. Finally she discovered that Mary was sitting at the feet of Jesus, and listening with rapt attention to what he was saying. Martha, wearied with many cares, was so vexed to see her sister calmly listening thus, that she forgot the courtesy due to her guests, and openly complained of Mary's idleness, and appealed to Jesus that he would not permit all the domestic duties to fall upon one.
Jesus answered these complaints with mild and patient words: "Martha, Martha, thou art careful and troubled about many things; but one thing is needful, and Mary hath chosen that good part, which shall not be taken away from her." That which Jesus indicated that Martha needed, was a calm, devotional spirit, a deeper anxiety to learn more concerning the future immortal life, and the graces necessary to spiritual advancement. She needed less anxiety for earthly things, which pass away, and more for heavenly things, which affect the eternal welfare of the soul. It is necessary to faithfully perform the duties of the present life, but Jesus would teach his children that they must seize every opportunity to gain that knowledge which will make them wise unto salvation.
One of the dangers of the present age is devoting too much time to business matters and to unnecessary cares, which we create for ourselves, while the development of Christian character is neglected. Careful, energetic Martha are needed for this time, who will blend with their prompt, decisive qualities that "better part" of which Christ spoke. A character of such combined strength and godliness is an unconquerable power for good.
A dark cloud now hung over this quiet home where Jesus had rested. Lazarus was stricken with sudden illness. The afflicted sisters sent a message to Jesus: "Lord, behold, he whom thou lovest is sick." They made no urgent requirement for the immediate presence of Jesus, for they believed that he would understand the case and relieve their brother. Lazarus was a firm believer in the divine mission of Jesus; he loved him ardently and was in turn beloved by the blessed Master, whose peace had rested on his quiet home. The faith and love which the brother and sisters felt toward Jesus encouraged them to believe that he would not disregard their distress. Therefore they sent the simple, confiding message: "He whom thou lovest is sick."
When Jesus received the message, he said, "This sickness is not unto death, but for the glory of God, that the Son of God might be glorified thereby." He accordingly remained where he was for two days. After the messenger was sent, Lazarus grew rapidly worse. The sisters counted the days and hours that must intervene between the sending of the message and the arrival of Jesus to their aid. As the time approached when they should expect him, they anxiously watched the travelers who appeared in the distance, hoping to discover the form of Jesus. All their efforts for the recovery of their brother were in vain, and they felt that he must die unless divine help interposed to save him. Their constant prayer was, Oh! that Jesus would come! He could save our beloved brother!
Presently their messenger returns, but unaccompanied by Jesus. He bears to the sorrowing sisters the words of the Saviour, "This sickness is not unto death." But the hearts of the sisters fail them, for lo, their brother is already wrestling with the fierce destroyer, and soon closes his eyes in death.
Jesus, at the end of the two days, proposed to go to Judea, but his disciples endeavored to prevent him from doing so. They reminded him of the hatred manifested toward him when he was last there. Said they, "The Jews of late sought to stone thee; and goest thou thither again?" Jesus then explained to them that he must go, for Lazarus was dead, adding, "And I am glad for your sakes that I was not there, to the intent ye may believe." Jesus did not delay going to the relief of Lazarus through want of interest in the stricken family; but he designed to make the sorrowful event of the death of Lazarus an occasion to give undoubted proof of his divine power, and unite his disciples to him in a faith that could not be broken. Already some among them were questioning in their minds if they had not been deceived in the evidences of his divine411power; if he was really the Christ would he not have saved Lazarus whom he loved? Jesus designed to work a crowning miracle that would convince all who would by any means be convinced that he was the Saviour of the world.
The danger attaching to this expedition into Judea was great, since the Jews were determined to kill Jesus. Finding it was impossible to dissuade him from going, Thomas proposed to the disciples that they should all accompany their Master, saying, "Let us also go, that we may die with him." Therefore the twelve accompanied the Saviour. On the way, Jesus labored for the needy, relieving the suffering and healing the sick as was his custom. When he reached Bethany he heard from several persons that Lazarus was dead, and had been buried four days.
—Ellen G. White, in Great Controversy.
JESUS said "Our friend Lazarus sleepeth." "Jesus spake of his death." "Then said Jesus unto them plainly, Lazarus is dead." John 11:11-14. Yet nowadays there is hardly anything that will excite the opposition of the majority of professed Christians more quickly than to preach, according to these very words of Christ, that the dead are asleep. In these days to speak of death as sleep is to subject yourself to the bigoted epithet of "soul-sleeper," "materialist," "teacher of infidelity," and what not. But here we have the plain record of the word of Christ, that when speaking of the death of a certain person he said, he "sleepeth," and then to make the matter certain that such is his meaning he said plainly, "Lazarus is dead." Nothing could be plainer than that the doctrine of the Lord Jesus is that the dead are asleep.
WITH this agrees the word of his apostles. Paul said that David, after he had served his own generation, "fell on sleep and was laid unto his fathers and saw corruption." This however is only what had been written before of the death of David: "David slept with his fathers, and was buried in the city of David." 1 Kings 2:10. "And he died in a good old age." 1 Chron. 29:28. In writing to the Thessalonians Paul said, "We would not have you ignorant brethren concerning them which are asleep. . . . For this we say unto you by the word of the Lord, that we which are alive and remain unto the coming of the Lord, shall not prevent [go before] them which are asleep." Why? For "the dead in Christ shall rise first, then we which are alive and remain shall be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air; and so shall we ever be with the Lord." 1 Thess. 4:13-17. Thus the dead in Christ are those who sleep in Jesus. To the Corinthians he said, "We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trump." 1 Cor. 15:51, 52. In relating the death of Stephen, Luke says, "He fell asleep." Acts 7:60.
WITH all this, and more, agrees the word of the prophets, and other writers of the Old Testament. Twenty-five times the record made of the kings of Israel and Judah is, "He slept with his fathers and was buried," etc. Job says if he had died then he "should have slept," and that, "man lieth down, and riseth not; till the heavens be no more they shall not awake nor be raised out of their sleep." Job 3:11, 13; 14:12. Daniel says, "Many of them that sleep in the dust of the earth shall awake." Dan. 12:2. That the dead are asleep, and that they awake at the sound of the trump of God at the coming of Christ, and come forth at the resurrection of the dead, is the straightforward doctrine of the Bible. And however much men may sneer at it, as "soul-sleeping," "materialism," etc., it is the truth of God and of our Lord Jesus Christ. And it is the love of the truth by which we are saved.
J.
THE LAW OF GOD.
The Law That Was Abolished, and the Law of God.
(Lesson 14.—Sabbath, July 24.)
1. WHAT has Christ abolished in his flesh?
"Having abolished in his flesh the enmity, even the law of commandments contained in ordinances; for to make in himself of twain one new man, so making peace." Eph. 2: 15.
2. What is love?
"For this is the love of God, that we keep his commandments; and his commandments are not grievous." 1 John 5: 3.
3. Can the same thing be both love and enmity? Certainly not.
4. In another place what testimony did Paul give concerning the law of God?
"Wherefore the law is holy, and the commandment holy, and just, and good." Rom. 7: 12.
5. How did he feel toward it?
"For I delight in the law of God after the inward man." Rom. 7: 22.
6. Then can it be the law of God, or the ten commandments, that is spoken of as "the enmity" in Eph. 2: 15? No; Paul would not apply the term "enmity" to that which he loved.
7. What did God speak to the people from Sinai?
"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." Deut. 4: 12, 13.
8. Did he speak any other words in the hearing of the people beside the ten commandments?
"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. 5: 22.
9. When the Lord had finished speaking the ten commandments, what did the people say?
"And they said unto Moses, Speak thou with us, and we will hear; but let not God speak with us, lest we die." Ex. 20: 19.
10. What did Moses and the people then do?
"And the people stood afar off, and Moses drew near unto the thick darkness where God was." Ex. 20: 21.
11. How did the Lord, after he had given the ten commandments, give other instruction to the people?
"And madest known unto them thy holy Sabbath, and commandedst them precepts, statutes, and laws, by the hand of Moses thy servant." Neh. 9: 14.
12. Where do we find some of the things which the Lord gave through Moses? Exodus, chapters 25-30.
14. Did these offerings really take away sin?
"For it is not possible that the blood of bulls and of goats should take away sins." Heb. 10: 4.
15. Who only can really take away sin?
"The next day John seeth Jesus coming unto him, and saith, Behold the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world." John 1: 29.
"For then must he often have suffered since the foundation of the world; but now once in the end of the world hath he appeared to put away sin by the sacrifice of himself." Heb. 9: 26.
16. How did Christ bear our sins?
"Who his own self bare our sins in his own body on the tree, that we, being dead to sins, should live unto righteousness; by whose stripes ye were healed." 1 Peter 2: 24.
17. Of what must we be partakers in order to have eternal life?
"Then Jesus said unto them, Verily, verily, I say unto you, Except ye eat the flesh of the Son of man, and drink his blood, ye have no life in you. Whoso eateth my flesh, and drinketh my blood, hath eternal life; and I will raise him up at the last day." John 6: 53, 54.
18. Were the sacrifices to be continued after Christ suffered?
"For it is not possible that the blood of bulls and of goats should take away sins. Wherefore, when he cometh into the world, he saith, Sacrifice and offering thou wouldest not, but a body hast thou prepared me." Heb. 10: 4, 5.
19. Then how were they done away? Christ abolished them "in his flesh;" that is, they found their fulfillment in the body of Christ.
20. Were these ordinances a cause of enmity between the Jews and the Gentiles?
"And when Peter was come up to Jerusalem, they that were of the circumcision contended with him, saying, Thou wentest in to men uncircumcised, and didst eat with them." Acts 11: 2, 3.
21. After Christ, did this cause of enmity exist?
"For in Christ Jesus neither circumcision availeth anything, nor uncircumcision, but a new creature." Gal. 6: 15.
22. Through Christ what union was effected?
"And that he might reconcile both unto God in one body by the cross, having slain the enmity thereby; and came and preached peace to you which were afar off, and to them that were nigh. For through him we both have access by one Spirit unto the Father." Eph. 2: 16-18.
23. Are those thus brought together planted on a new foundation?
"Now therefore ye are no more strangers and foreigners, but fellow citizens with the saints, and of the household of God; and are built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Jesus Christ himself being the chief corner stone." Eph. 2: 19, 20.
24. After circumcision and the ceremonies connected with it had passed away, what still remained in full force?
"Circumcision is nothing, and uncircumcision is nothing, but the keeping of the commandments of God." 1 Cor. 7: 19.
God's service runs counter to the world's requirements. Hence there must be a collision. A man who will serve God will clash with the world. . . . The world hates God, and will not recognize his exclusive demands. Political, commercial, and social customs will bring a tyrannical pressure upon the soul, and the Christian in the name of his God will have to resist. If he resist, he will meet with scorn, contempt, insult, persecution, according to the ability of those about him. His own family will sometimes ridicule and despise him. The fiery furnace has different forms. The more resolute he is, the more wrath the world has and the hotter will it make the fire. Then is the opportunity for the Christian to triumph in his faith and to taste the glory of his position as with God. Deceit, Sabbath-breaking, impurity, fraud, lying, intrigue, to which the customs of the age allure the Christian, are all forms of idolatry; for they are revolts from God after the gods of ambition or carnality.—Crosby.
BEWARE of shrinking from the exposition of truths which you fear will be unpalatable to the better classes of the flock; of altering, by little and little, your message, under the soft excuses of not giving needless offense, of not being understood, of the necessity of consulting the feelings of influential people who will be shocked by this truth. Give to saint and sinner a portion in due season, and neither fear the frown nor court the smile of any.—Methodist Recorder.
Dorothy Ann's Sermon.
THERE was great rejoicing among the little ones at the farm when it was understood that Cousin Hetty, who lived in the city, was coming to make a long visit. She was not very strong, so mamma said, and they must all be careful to be very kind and polite, and to see that she always had the best of everything.
The little lassie came, and they were delighted with everything about her, from her pretty fair curls and white face, so different from their own sun-browned ones, to her dainty dresses and French boots. There could be no doubt that her manners were quite equal to her appearance, so Jessie and Tom and Polly resolved to be upon their very best behavior all the time.
"Will you come out into the garden?" said Jessie. "There are lots of currants and a few raspberries ripe. There will be plenty of raspberries next week, though."
Such a garden as that! None of your little seven-by-nine scraps, but a full acre of everything which could be found in a liberal, old-fashioned country garden.
A broad walk through the middle of it was bordered by beds of bright-colored flowers, with rows of hollyhocks and sun-flowers at the end. Honeysuckles and morning-glories climbed over the fences, and in a shady corner grew such pansies as the children believed only mamma knew how to raise.
Miss Hetty tried the fruit and said, "I don't like currants; they're sour. I like only raspberries."
It had been supposed that each one would eat a great many currants and a very few raspberries. But on hearing this, the others offered her all the raspberries they could find, and were rather surprised to see that she took them without seeming to think whether they liked them, too. She kept calling for more, and, when Tom scratched his face and Polly tore her sleeve pushing through the bushes in search of them, very quietly ate all they had without so much as a thank you. Then she declared the berries were not half ripe, and not fit to eat.
"Mamma don't wish us to pick the pansies unless she is with us," ventured Jessie, as Hetty began gathering them freely, "because she has some choice ones she wants to keep for seed."
"I like choice pansies, too," said Hetty, with a scowl on her pretty face.
They went to the swing, where Hetty grumbled when the others wanted to take a turn. Then to the croquet-ground, where things went smoothly so long as Hetty was on the winning side; but if the play went against her she grew sober, then sulky, and finally threw down her mallet and refused to finish the game.
Long before tea time Jessie and Tom and Polly began to wonder if it was so very delightful a thing after all to have a cousin from the city to visit them; and before the first week was gone everybody on the place had fully decided that it was not.
Hetty could be very sweet and pleasant while things were exactly to her liking, but unless she could have her own way in everything her frowns and complaints were ready at a moment's notice. She had never been taught to take any thought for others, and her little cousins found it very hard to endure all her whims and ill humors. They were very dutifully anxious to heed all mamma's reminders that it was their place to give up to their guest, but she herself could not help seeing that Hetty made sore demands upon their patience.
One day there was a picnic, to which all the children looked forward for days, and for which great preparations were made. When all were ready to go it was discovered that Hetty was wearing a pair of thin slippers.
"Oh, my dear," said mamma, "you must put on your thick shoes. There will be rough ground and perhaps damp places to go over today."
Hetty had made up her mind to wear those slippers, and was not inclined to change it, or them, but was still quite determined to go to the picnic. So she said, "Then I believe I won't go."
The other children were as wofully dismayed as she had expected them to be.
"O, Hetty!" cried Jessie, "you must not stay at home. It's lovely out there—wild flowers and vine swings"—
"And a creek where we fish and wade and sail boats," said Tom.
"And such good things in the basket," whispered Polly.
"Hurry, dear," said her aunt, coaxingly. "We are all waiting, you see."
"Don't wait," said Hetty; "I'd rather stay at home." She went to her room, much enjoying the commotion she was making. From the back of it she could look out of the window and see what was going on. The children got into the big spring wagon and sat looking up at her windows. Then her aunt came out and called cheerily up to her, "Come, Hetty, we've got a good seat for you."
"And I'm to have the whip, and I'll let you have it half the time," shouted Tom.
Hetty came to the window and said, "Thank you, Aunt Emily; but I'd rather not go;" and then watched again from the back of the room, wondering what they would do next in the way of urging her.
Aunt Emily got in, and to Hetty's great astonishment the wagon was driven away. What could it mean? They surely would never, never think of such a thing as going without her. They must be going to turn back for her—perhaps they were doing an errand first. But there was a little misgiving at her heart, as she slowly walked down to the kitchen and asked Dorothy Ann, the maid, "Where are they all gone?"
"Why, to the picnic, of course! Seems to me I'd a gone, too, if I'd been you."
"Gone without me?" Hetty stood in blank amazement for a few moments, then flung herself down on the floor and screamed.
At the first howl, Dorothy Ann quietly took a chair, folded her arms, and sat looking at Hetty as if she were some very interesting natural curiosity. And Hetty screamed louder, and kicked until her bronze slippers were as badly off as if they had gone through half a dozen picnics. And the louder she screamed and the harder she kicked, the straighter Dorothy Ann looked at her.
It was very perplexing for Hetty. She had never kicked and screamed before without everybody being frightened for fear she would injure herself, and coaxing and petting her, and offering her everything she wanted, including her own way, if she would only stop. But here was Dorothy Ann looking as if she would not mind if it lasted all day, and not a soul anywhere near to do any coaxing. Hetty did not know what to do next.
At last, when her throat ached and her face was red and her whole self very badly tumbled, she sat upon the floor and looked at Dorothy Ann. And then Dorothy Ann spoke.
"You're a nice child now, ain't you?"
It was not spoken sneeringly, nor in anger. Dorothy Ann was a pleasant-faced, hard-working woman, older than Aunt Emily, and her words always had weight in the family. After a pause she went on in a slow, earnest way: "You're a nice child, I say! Don't you think it's nice to be a-makin' yourself a trouble and a torment with your cross, crabbed, cantankerous ways? Don't you think it's nice to come where folks is all glad to see you, and their hearts just warm and a-runnin' over with kind feelin's to you, and little ones that's always a-givin' up to you, and you just for all the world like a buzzin' wasp or a stingin' nettle or a prickly chestnut-burr that everybody is glad to get away from or drop out of their hands? Don't you think it's nice to keep them children all rasped up with your tantrums, and to keep your aunt in a fret all the time between her wish to do everything that's kind by you and tellin' her children the same likewise, and you a-goin' on like all possessed?"
Hetty stared up at Dorothy Ann, bewildered at words the like of which she had never heard before, and slowly through her mind came the idea that the next thing for her to do was to feel very angry.
"How dare you talk so to me?" she cried. "Mamma won't let you." But Dorothy Ann noticed her anger as little as she had her screams.
"If you go on so to your mamma, don't she think it's nice to have a little girl to buy pretty things for and to take good care of, and then to have her a-snappin' and a-snarlin', and a-scowlin', and a-makin' people wherever she goes wish she was a thousand miles away? Don't you think she's proud of havin' such a child?"
"Don't you think it's nice to see your pretty blue eyes all red, and your forehead all crumpled up so you might iron it out, and your mouth that was made to smile and laugh all puckered? Don't you know there's wolves a-looking out of your eyes when there ought to be lambs and doves? Don't you know the words you speak are like so many snakes and toads a-droppin' out of your mouth? And what do you s'pose"—Dorothy Ann's voice grew solemn—"the good Lord thinks when he looks at that little heart of yours that he give you to keep full of sweetness and lovin' kindness, and to make you a comfort instead of a trial to folks—what does he think, do you s'pose, when he sees it all blotted and stained up with all sorts of hateful thoughts?"
Hetty had never taken her eyes from Dorothy Ann's face, and now as she seemed to have said her say, and went back to her work as if nothing had happened, it came over her very strongly that the next thing for her to do was to feel very much ashamed. With a little sob or two she got off the floor and went out and lay down under an apple tree. There Dorothy Ann found her, an hour later, fast asleep.
"Poor little creature! She's tired herself clean out." Dorothy Ann had for some days been "bilin' over for a chance to speak her mind," and having now had it, felt very413kindly disposed. She slipped a cushion under the poor little, rumpled head, and when dinner time came, Hetty found a dainty pudding, just big enough for her, baked on purpose. And during the long afternoon Dorothy Ann told funny old stories and let her make molasses candy to pass away the time.
"I do declare, I'm most afraid to see Hetty!" said Tom, as the picnic party drew near home. And the other members of it felt so too.
But Hetty was subdued, and as days went on every one was amazed at the change in her. And nobody could ever guess how it came about, for she never told of Dorothy Ann's sermon. I wish all spoiled children could hear such a one—don't you?—The Congregationalist.
The Home Circle.
By Charlottesville Chronicle
"WAIT A WEE."
"WHAT is patience?" and the question
Passed the waiting classes through,
While the teacher paused and listened,
But no child the answer knew.
Till at length a little Scotch girl
Tremblingly the silence broke;
"Wait a wee, and dinna weary,"
Were the tender words she spoke.
And I think a truth lies deeply
In that thought for you and me;
Where the voice of duty calleth,
Work and watch, but "wait a wee."
"Wait a wee," the autumn dieth,
Violets rest beneath the snow;
"Dinna weary," in the spring-time
God's own love will bid them grow.
"Wait a wee," the rain is falling,
And the day in darkness lies;
"Dinna weary," clouds that scatter
Frame a rainbow in the skies.
Art thou struggling, fainting, dying?
"Wait a wee," till storms are past;
Nerve thine arm to do and conquer;
Courage! thou shalt win at last.
"Wait a wee!" O heart be patient!
Strong to do and bold to dare,
Earnest, steadfast, loyal, loving;
Strength renewed shall follow prayer.
—Charlottesville Chronicle.
The Cost.
THE Evening Journal, Chicago, quotes the return of the census showing that $700,000,000 are spent yearly in the United States for intoxicating drink, and adds: But the cost of liquor-drinking is not altogether in money, it costs immensely in other directions, and entails injuries and heartaches that are quite beyond the figures of the arithmetic to accurately compute. Four-fifths of all the inmates of our jails, penitentiaries, and reformatories, are brought there directly or indirectly by strong drink.
There are 500,000 of these whisky criminals in the United States to-day; every institution that is open for their reception is full of them, and the number is rapidly increasing. Then there are 800,000 insane persons, idiots, helpless inebriates and paupers in the poor-houses and charitable institutions of the country, costing the tax-payers $100,000,000 per annum. But this is not all. No pen but the recording angel's is able truthfully to portray the sorrow that is inflicted upon loving hearts by this infernal habit of drinking stimulants. No class is so high in the social scale that it is not dragged down by it, and no class is so poor and degraded that it is not made more inhuman and miserable by it. A drunken parent bestows a curse upon his offspring, even to the third and fourth generations. Science shows how vice of any kind vitiates the blood, and, although it may skip one generation, it is certain to crop out farther down the stream. A dead drunkard often reaches out his hand from the grave, and, with his skeleton finger, palsies the brain of his descendants, and sends them, like so many jabbering idiots, to the insane asylum to be supported by charity.—Sel.
How to Save Boys.
By Christian Standard
WOMEN who have sons to rear, and dread demoralizing influences of bad associations, ought to understand the nature of young manhood. It is excessively restless. It is disturbed by vain ambitions, by thirst for action, by longings for excitement, by irrepressible desires to touch life in manifold ways. If you, mothers, rear your sons so that your homes are associated with the repression of natural instincts, you will be sure to throw them in the society that in any measure can supply the need of their hearts. They will not go to the public house, at first, for love of liquor; they go for the animated and hilarious companionship they find there, which they find does much to repress the disturbing restlessness in their breasts. See to it, then, that their homes compete with public places in their attractiveness. Open your blinds by day and light bright fires by night. Illuminate your rooms. Hang pictures upon the wall. Put books and newspapers upon your tables. Banish demons of dullness and apathy that have so long ruled in your household. Invent occupations for your sons. Stimulate their ambitions in worthy directions. While you make home their delight, fill them with higher purposes than mere pleasure. Whether they shall pass happy boyhood, and enter upon manhood with refined tastes and noble ambitions, depends on you. Do not blame miserable bar-keepers if your sons miscarry. Believe it possible that with exertion and right means a mother may have more control of the destiny of her boys than any other influence whatever.—Christian Standard.
In Jackson's Time.
By Atlanta Constitution
Not long ago I heard an old gentleman telling with great delight of how he was once a guest at the White House. It was during Andrew Jackson's first term. His father was an ardent admirer of Jackson, and insisted that the son, then just of age, should make a pilgrimage to Washington for the sole purpose of seeing the old hero. They lived at Erie, Pa., and the long journey had to be made on horseback. The young man took the tedious ride, and, after refreshing himself at a Washington hotel, went up to the White House and asked to see the President.
When he was admitted he told Jackson that he had ridden all the way from Erie to see him. The President asked his business, and was highly pleased when he was told that the only object of the visit had been accomplished in obtaining an interview. Jackson asked where the young man was stopping, and on being told, insisted on sending down for his horse and saddle-bags and retaining him as a guest at the White House. For a week the young Pennsylvanian enjoyed "Old Hickory's" hospitality. On the morning of his departure, his horse, with his saddle-bags across his back, was led in front of the White House, and the President came out, as any good old farmer would have done, to shake hands and wish him a safe journey home.
Health and Temperance.
Drinking among Women.
AMONG the many evils which afflict our cities, none is half so destructive in its effects or so insidious in its methods as that terrible enemy to civilization, intemperance. The deadly thirst for alcohol is not confined to the lewd and the vicious; it seizes alike rich and poor, high and low, male and female. But whether in the hovel or in the palace, its effects are the same—irritable tempers, ruined lives, shattered constitutions, premature death, in this world; and in the world to come, tribulation, anguish, and eternal death.
The following extracts show how the habit of indulging in the use of intoxicating liquors is growing and becoming common among women, even in genteel society:—
"The drinking, the startling increase of which has struck many observant residents of the city, is among the wives and daughters of business and professional men. Not so very long ago, any woman who drank in a public place virtually gave notice by the act that she was a loose character. It is so no longer. Scores of wives of business men, when on their shopping trips down town, step into some convenient drinking place and take a glass or two of beer or wine. Some are not content with a glass or two, but indulge in six or eight, or perhaps more. Their trips down town are often more for the purpose of drinking than shopping, and not infrequently those who make them return to their homes with their brains all awhirl. Occasionally they go into these resorts by themselves, but generally in company with some male acquaintance."—Chicago News.
"One of the most alarming features of the growing intemperance in our land is the hold it is getting upon women. It is not an uncommon sight in this city to see women and children going from saloons with pitchers of beer. We frequently notice the patrol wagon hastening to pick up a woman in a state of intoxication, who, guarded by nicely dressed policemen, is taken off to a place of temporary imprisonment. Fashionable drinking saloons are elegantly fitted up in our large cities for society women of the wealthy class. The number of habitual visitors of such places is said to be alarmingly on the increase. In this the devil is using his most ingenious devices to apply his deadly venom to the very heart of the race. Well may the alarm be sounded all over the land, and the strong ones put forth every possible effort to exterminate this terrible curse, when mothers begin to fall before the rum fiend. Say or think as we may, these facts stare us in the face, and should rouse every lover of sobriety and virtue to determined action against this terrible destroyer of the human race."—Vanguard.
Cautions for the Aged.
By Youth's Companion
AGE works great physical changes, many of which are generally recognized. Some of them involve dangerous liabilities, and impose the need of constant caution.
One is to guard against undue exertion. The tough, elastic coat of the arteries is apt to become, on the one hand, chalk-like and brittle, or, on the other, fatty and weak. Nature seeks to guard against the consequent danger by rendering old persons less inclined to effort. But a little extra exertion put forth suddenly, may cause the weakened vessels to give way, from the increased force with which the heart throws the blood into them. Hence may result apoplexy or fatal aneurism—the latter being a sudden bulging out of arteries.
So, too, the heart itself (or its aorta—the great curved trunk which first receives the blood from the heart) may be in a similar condition, and suddenly fail because of undue exertion, when it might have been equal to the ordinary work of years. Such, no doubt, was the late case, where an elderly gentleman hurried to reach a railroad train, and fell dead on entering it. The aged should firmly refuse to hurry.
A like caution applies to whatever quickens the action of the heart. Every one knows the power of violent emotions in this respect. No one wishes to fall dead in a fit of anger. Undue eating, especially of stimulating food, is almost as dangerous. All the appetites need to be kept under control.
A special caution is needed in descending stairs. In our normal voluntary movements there are certain nice adjustments effected by unconscious mental acts. But age affects such a change in the brain substance that mental activity is lessened. An old man can no more think as quickly as a young man than he can run as fast, or jump as high. Aged persons, therefore, should form the habit of taking their bearing, so to speak, at the top of the stairs, and keep their mind on each step down by a conscious voluntary effort.
The aged should also most carefully guard against a chill. It is more dangerous for an old man to catch cold than for a young man to catch a fever.—Youth's Companion.