Cyclopedia of illustrations for public speakers

by Unknown

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SABBATH-BREAKING REBUKED

I remember on one occasion, when an immense quantity of freight was to be brought from New York to Boston, they undertook to run on the Sabbath day. They came up with a large load of cotton, and on coming near to M—— a bale got afire, and there were not hands enough to roll it off. They then drove to M—— and rang the bells, and the people came down to the number of three hundred. “Help us,” said the railway people, “to put out the fire.” “No; you have no business to run that train on the Sabbath.” They then sent up to one of the directors and said: “If you speak a word, these men will bring us water; there is property being destroyed.” “I voted in the board of directors,” he replied, “against this running on the Sabbath, and if you burn the whole freight, I will not raise a finger.” And the two carloads of cotton were destroyed. The company had to pay for them—but they ran no more trains on the Sabbath. (Text.)—John B. Gough.

(2795)

Sabbath Desecration—See [Punctiliousness].

SABBATH DESECRATION GRADUAL

The desecration of the temple in Jerusalem did not spring up full-statured in a day. The court of the Gentiles was a spacious place, having an area of fourteen acres. Round its four sides there ran a colonnade with four rows of marble pillars and a roof of costly cedar. Many things were needed in the sacrifices of the temple, and what place more convenient for the buying of them than this great, spacious court? One day, I imagine, a man stept inside with a cage of pigeons. A bird so small and sweet-voiced as a dove could not hurt the sacred place! By and by a man with a sheep to sell led it in. A sheep is the most innocent of all animals. No harm could come to God or man from the presence of a sheep. Still later the man with a steer to sell brought him in. “I have as much right here as you have,” he said to the man with the sheep and the man with the pigeons, and soon there were a dozen steers. That is the way it all happened. The abuse grew up so gradually that nobody observed it, and before men knew it the sacredness of the place was gone. Just so does the desecration of the day of rest take place in great cities. One man steps into the temple of rest, saying: “Let me sing you a little song.” His voice is sweet and the song is pretty, and what is so beautiful and innocent as a song? And a man outside hearing this song inside the temple says: “I think I’ll come in and sing, too.” His voice is harsh and his song is a different kind of a song, but in he comes, and who is wise enough to draw the line and say this song is proper, that song will never do? And while these two men are singing, another man who can not sing at all, and who can only use his feet, decides that he, too, has a right to exercise his gifts inside the temple, and in he comes, and after him a dozen others, and after them a hundred others, some bringing doves, some sheep, some steers, until the whole day is trampled into sordidness and one of the most precious of all the privileges of man has been wrested from him.—Charles E. Jefferson.

(2796)

SABBATH, OBSERVING THE

In northern Canada Mr. Evans, the apostle to the Indians there, induced a large number to become Christians, and said to them, “Remember the Sabbath day to keep it holy.” At this time all the furs were carried by brigades of Indians, and the exchange cargo taken away by them. The Indians had been in the habit of traveling seven days a week, but when the mission was established, the observance of the Sabbath began. At once there was opposition from the Hudson Bay Company. They argued “Our summer is short, and to lose one day in seven is a terrible loss to us. We will run you missionaries out of the country if you interfere with our business.” There was downright persecution for years, but there is none now, for it was found that the Indians who traveled only six days and rested quietly on the Sabbath made a journey of a thousand or fifteen hundred miles without a single exception in less time, and came back in better health than those who did not observe the Sabbath rest. (Text.)

(2797)

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The last sermon that was preached by Rev. J. Hudson Taylor, the founder of the China Inland Mission, was one which the North China Mail characterized as “a mile long.” He was under appointment to preach that same day at a station one mile distant from his home. He was too feeble to walk that distance without rest, and he was unwilling to be carried in a sedan-chair because he feared the evil influence of what would have been—to him—perfectly innocent. So he made the journey on foot, helped by his son, who carried a stool. Every few rods the stool was placed and Mr. Taylor sat on it and rested. The attention of the Chinese, Christians and Confucianists alike, was attracted. Every little while some one would ask: “Why does not the old man ride?” “Because he will not make any one else work on the Sabbath day.” “Why not?” “Because God said, ‘Remember the Sabbath day and keep it holy,’” was the reply (Text.)

(2798)

See [Principle]; [Sunday Recorded].

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The true philosophy of religion invariably teaches that we act wisely when we conform to the requirements of Sabbatic rest from toil. Such conformity is simply the recognition of a beneficent natural law.

In 1909 Mr. Selfridge, of Chicago, established a great American store in London. It immediately became a great popular success. Speaking to an interviewer, Mr. Selfridge said: “I am a business man, and not a preacher, but still I feel strongly that fair dealing is not only right, but wise—to put it on the lowest ground. If you treat people fairly, you will be fairly treated by them in return, and somehow or another the religious method of carrying on business has not failed in the case of Marshall Field. I will give you one curious instance of this. Our house never advertises in the Sunday papers, with the extraordinary result that we prospered in direct consequence. Many warned us that we were holding to a suicidal policy, for in America Sunday papers are the chief means of publicity. Our method turned out most effective, because it forced itself upon the notice of every woman in the United States that Marshall Field & Co. did not advertise on Sunday, and that fact was a great advertisement in itself. But who—out of a religious tract—would ever have dreamed of such a topsyturvy result?” (Text.)

(2799)

SABBATH, PROFITABLE

Egerton Young gives this testimony about Sabbath-keeping by the Indians of British Columbia:

When our mission was established, all the missionaries went in for the observance of the Sabbath day. At once there was opposition from the Hudson Bay Company. They argued, “Our summer is short, the people have to work in a hurry, and to lose one day in seven will be a terrible loss to us, and you missionaries must get out of the country if you are going to interfere with our business.” There was downright persecution for years, but there is none now, for it was found that the brigades of Indians who traveled only six days, and quietly rested on the Sabbath, made the journey of perhaps fifteen hundred miles, without a single exception, in less time, and came back in better health, than those who traveled without observing the Sabbath.—Pierson, “The Miracles of Missions.”

(2800)

SABBATH, REGARD FOR

Rev. Egerton R. Young, a missionary among the Canadian Indians, tells the following:

The governor of our colony sent out one of his commissioners to meet the Indians and give them their supplies in accordance with the treaty. The commissioner sent word to one of our Christian Indians to bring his people as far as a certain place and he would be there to distribute their allowances. The Indians were on hand at the time appointed. They came empty handed, expecting to receive an abundance immediately, but the big white commissioner did not arrive. One day passed, then another, and the Indians were hungry. The food was there in tantalizing abundance, but the commissioner did not come to distribute it. The young Indians came to their chief and said, “Pakan, our wives and children are crying for food; will you not open the boxes and give us enough to satisfy them?” “No, my children,” said the chief, “I have never broken a word of treaty and I do not want to do it now.” Another day passed and the commissioner did not come. The young Indians’ eyes began to flash forth something that boded trouble, but the old chief answered, “Have patience a little longer, my people,” and he called on an Indian who had a splendid horse to accompany him to find and hurry up the dilatory commissioner. About noon they met the commissioner with a large retinue and a company of his friends coming leisurely along, stopping for sport where the country abounded in game.

They were just halting for such an afternoon’s sport when Pakan rode up. “You have broken your promise to my people,” he said solemnly. “You were to have met with them three days ago. Don’t stop here, my people are hungry. Come with me and give them food.”

The commissioner replied with an easy smile, “Oh, Pakan, I’m glad to see you. Come and dine with us. Meet my friends; have an afternoon of hunting and then to-morrow I will go with you.”

“No,” said Pakan, “to-morrow is the Sabbath. I and my people have been taught to keep the Sabbath, and hungry as we are, unless you come to-day, I and my people will wait until Monday for the supplies.”

The commissioner quailed before him, and sent a sub-officer back with him to open the supplies. The next day the commissioner rode into camp. He expected the Indians to meet him with firing of guns and waving of flags, but no one came to receive him, and no guns were fired. The only wigwam where a flag was flying was the place where the people were meeting to worship God. The commissioner called a council, but not an Indian responded. The commissioner wanted Pakan to dine with him with other guests that day. It is a great honor to dine with a royal commissioner; but Pakan said, “I dine with my family quietly on the Sabbath day, for God has said, ‘Remember the Sabbath day to keep it holy.’”

(2801)

SABBATH, THE, FOR MAN

Among those who opposed and criticized Father Mathew were the Sabbatarians, who opposed the holding of temperance meetings on Sunday. Father Mathew replied: “They must well know that if we did not assemble on the Lord’s day, we could not hold our meetings at all, for the great majority of those who compose our society are from that useful and virtuous body, the operatives, who on every other day labor from the rising to the setting sun. The temperance cause is the work of the Most High God, and it is admirable in our eyes.”

(2802)

Sackcloth—See [Bible Customs To-day].

SACRED THINGS

A Scotch preacher tells this story. He said that he was going through the highlands of Scotland when a storm came on. He stept out of his carriage, and went up to a little Scotch hut. He was invited to enter by the woman whose home it was. In one corner of the room there stood an old rocking-chair, and he was just going to sit in this, when the Scotch woman made one spring, and stopt him. She said: “No, no. Do not sit there.” And the preacher said: “Why?” “Well,” she said, “look.” And round about it was wrapt a scarlet cord. She said: “It was a year ago this week, sir, when our good lady, her Majesty Queen Victoria was driving along this road and a storm came on. She came in, and we gave her this chair. And when the Queen went away, we said, ‘We will put a scarlet cord around it, and nobody else shall ever sit in it. It is the Queen’s chair.’”

(2803)

SACRIFICE

John B. Kissinger submitted to the bite of a yellow fever mosquito in the interest of science while in the army in Cuba and was for years almost helpless.

Kissinger was bitten by mosquitoes carrying yellow fever germs and was then treated by the best medical experts in the army. It was supposed he had recovered his health and that as a result of the experiment yellow fever could be guarded against, but he later suffered a breakdown and became a physical wreck, unable to use his feet and legs.

Is not the willingness to suffer for man the very spirit of Christ? (Text.)

(2804)

Rev. E. J. Marsh, missionary at Hay River, Alaska, told his Indian boarding-school children about the needs of the leper children in China. They were moved to help, and asked Mr. Marsh how they could do so. Their clothing and food were all supplied them by the mission, and they had nothing to give. After a little they proposed that they should give up their pudding on Sunday. Their fare consisted of fish three times a day, sometimes potatoes, but on Sunday as a special treat they had rice pudding without sugar. They were so insistent, that they were allowed to go without it every second Sunday and at the end of the year a gift of two pounds was sent to the leper children in China.

(2805)

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One of the New York dailies printed in one of its issues as a sort of sensational advertisement, coupons, which served, when filled out, as life insurance policies for the remainder of the day on which they were issued. One of the newsboys read it over and over, then called some of his companions and wanted to know if they supposed that “was on the level”; if the newspaper “would make good.” He decided at last that the proposition was one to be trusted and he cut out the coupon, tucked it away in the pocket of his ragged coat. A half-hour later he threw himself beneath the wheels of one of the surface electric cars and was instantly crusht to almost a shapeless mass. In his pocket was the coupon, together with a letter, stating that his mother was sick and in need of such assistance as he had not been able to obtain for her, and so had sacrificed his life for the insurance money that was to be paid to her.

As we read the story one does not think of the grimy hands and the unwashed face and the ragged coat. He does not hear the roar of the elevated trains above or the tumult and voices of the street below, but his eyes catch the glory of a second calvary and the soul is hushed before the divine and the eternal that beat in that little heart behind that stained and tattered coat. (Text.)

(2806)

See [Offerings, Extravagant]; [Science, Devotion to].

SACRIFICE, FILIAL

The Japanese have a legend of an Emperor who commanded a bell-founder to cast a bell that would be more beautiful than any ever made and to be heard a hundred miles away. It must be made of gold, silver and brass. But the metals would not mingle, and the founder failed. The Emperor was angry, and bade him try again. His beautiful daughter was troubled for her father in his perplexity. So she consulted an oracle. “How can I save him?” she asked. “Metals will mingle if the blood of a virgin be mixt with them,” said the oracle suggestively. At the proper moment the devoted daughter threw herself into her father’s melting-pot. The bell was perfect, and was hung in the palace tower.

This kind of sacrifice is not to be commended as a literal process, but it remains true that no great music of the soul is born that does not have in it some sacrificial element. Heaven’s melodies would never sound if lives were not cast into the furnace. (Text.)

(2807)

SACRIFICE FOR CHRIST

Rev. Robert P. Wilder, of India, tells of a Brahman who decided to become a Christian.

The day he published the fact that he was a Christian an official seal was placed on his house, signifying that he had lost his position under the native government. A friend with whom he had placed his money, sent word that he knew nothing of the money, and his wife said that she could no longer live with him, and she left his home, taking with her their child. For four years he suffered the loss of position, money, wife, son and friends; altho at any moment he could have regained all by denying Christ and going back to Brahmanism. Mr. Wilder then received this glad letter from him: “You will be delighted to hear that we are still fast friends—Jesus and myself. He says to me, ‘I chose you and appointed you that you should go and bear fruit, and that your fruit should abide.’ I say to Him, ‘Then never leave me even for a minute. Let me abide in Thee and Thou in me.’ You will be glad to hear, too, that I have been permitted to spend a fortnight with my wife and child, and I believe that they will soon now come to Jesus and to me. God has been keeping them away from me for my good in this—that I should feel undivided love for my Savior.”

(2808)

Sacrifice for Missions—See [Opposition to Missionary Work].

SACRIFICE FOR RELIGION

Mrs. W. F. Armstrong tells this incident of the native Karens, of Burmah:

An old Karen pastor came one day with a large contribution for the foreign mission work. I said to him, “How can your people give so much? I know they are very poor, the overflow of the river has swept away your crops, your cattle are dying of disease, it is the famine time with you.” “Oh,” he said, with such a contented smile, “it only means rice without curry.” They could live on rice and salt, but they could not live without giving the bread of life to their brethren.—Pierson, “The Miracles of Missions.”

(2809)

Sacrifice for the Gospel—See [Slave for the Gospel’s Sake].

SACRIFICE, LAW OF

The great law of sacrifice, so dimly understood by Western people, is the commonest talk of Korea. For thousands of years sheep and oxen have died for the sins of the people. Birds and beasts have been offered in a vain effort to lift this burden from the human soul. I read in a history of Korea that in the year when our Savior was born in Bethlehem, the King of Kokuryu went out into the open plain to offer sacrifice to God. Two “swine beasts” were to be offered, but in the preparation of the sacrifice they took to their heels and ran away. The King sent two officers in pursuit, Messrs. Takni and Sappi. They chased the pigs to Long Jade Lake, caught them and ham-strung them, so that they could not run again; then they dragged them before the King. “How dare you,” said he, “offer to God a mutilated sacrifice?” He had these two gentlemen buried alive for their sin, but behold he himself shortly after fell seriously ill. A spirit medium called and told him his sickness was due to the sin of having killed Takni and Sappi. He confest, and prayed, and was cured of his complaint.—James S. Gale, “Korea in Transition.”

(2810)

SACRIFICE OF OUR BEST

Sir Charles Halle, the famous musician, dearly loved his flute. His son, a boy of eight years, lay ill, and his father tenderly watched beside the sufferer’s bed. One night the father fell asleep and the fire burned low. He awoke in alarm to find his son cold. The father threw his precious flute on to the coal to increase the heat.

Love gave its best and silenced the music of the flute for the sake of love for his son. So did divine love, for a sinsick world, give its best, and silence its music in the sorrow of the Man of Sorrows. (Text.)

(2811)

SACRIFICE, PAGAN

On the 4th of March, 1899, a Hindu laborer lodged a complaint at the police office at Hingoli. He said that as he was passing a cotton-ginning mill some of his countrymen came out and asked him to enter the compound. When he did so they seized him and bore him off to the furnace-room and attempted to put him into the fire. He showed the magistrate some terrible burns he had suffered, and his story, upon investigation, was found to be true. The Indian Antiquary, telling of the incident, remarked that the unanimous opinion among all the natives was that it was the workmen’s idea to offer the poor man as a sacrifice to the steam-engine, which had not been running satisfactorily.

(2812)

SACRIFICE TOO COSTLY

Mrs. Pickett, the widow of General George E. Pickett, of the Confederate Army, narrating the story of the charge at Gettysburg so gallantly led by her husband, says:

They were not strong enough to hold the position they had so dearly won; and broken-hearted, even at the very moment of his immortal triumph, my Soldier led his remaining men down the slope again. He dismounted and walked beside the stretcher upon which General Kemper, one of his officers, was being carried, fanning him and speaking cheerfully to comfort him in his suffering. When he reached Seminary Ridge again and reported to General Lee, his face was wet with tears as he pointed to the crimson valley and said:

“My noble division lies there!”

“General Pickett,” said the commander, “you and your men have covered yourselves with glory.”

My Soldier replied:

“Not all the glory in the world, General Lee, could atone for the widows and orphans this day has made.”

(2813)

SACRIFICE, VICARIOUS

Among the Tsimshean Indians of Alaska is the following curious superstition: Some boys had “shamed” a salmon; that is, offended its dignity. They caught it, cut a slit close to its fin and put gravel and stones in the wound so that it could not use its fin, and then let it go. The poor salmon wriggled and suffered trying to swim, but in vain. This made the god of the mountain angry, and he spewed out fire which ran down the mountain-side into the river, making it sputter all around. But a god of another mountain, near by, thought it was too bad, so he rolled down a big rock, and stopt the fire stream. The people, coming together, consulted as to the best way to propitiate the irate mountain-god, and the salmon as well who was “shamed,” and came to the conclusion that the naughty children had to be killed. The mothers, hearing of this, would not allow the sacrifice. The people compromised the matter by agreeing, instead, to kill the dogs of the village, which were thereupon all sacrificed and burned as a peace-offering to the “shamed” salmon.

Man has “shamed” his Maker but He has become our propitiation by a nobler sacrifice. (Text.)

(2814)

SACRIFICIAL MEDIATION

H. M. Stanley, in Africa, had much trouble with his men on account of their inherent propensity to steal, the results of which brought upon the expedition much actual disaster. At last Stanley doomed to death the next man caught stealing. His grief and distress were unbounded when the next thief, detected in a case of peculiar flagrancy, was found to be Uledi, the bravest, truest, noblest of his dusky followers. Uledi had saved a hundred lives, his own among the number. He had performed acts of the most brilliant daring, always successful, always faithful, always kind. Must Uledi die? He called all his men around him in a council. He explained to them the gravity of Uledi’s crime. He reminded them of his stern decree, but said he was not hard enough to enforce it against Uledi. His arm was not strong enough to lift the gun that would kill Uledi, and he would not bid one of them to do what he could not do himself. But some punishment, and a hard one, must be meted out. What should it be? The council must decide. They took a vote. Uledi must be flogged. When the decision was reached, Stanley standing, Uledi crouching at his feet and the solemn circle drawn closely around them, one man whose life Uledi had saved under circumstances of frightful peril, stood forth and said, “Give me half the blows, master.” Then another said in the faintest accents, while tears fell from his eyes, “Will the master give his slave leave to speak?” “Yes,” said Stanley. The Arab came forward and knelt by Uledi’s side. His words came slowly, and now and then a sob broke them. “The master is wise,” he said; “he knows all that has been, for he writes them in a book. I am black, and know not. Nor can I remember what is past. What we saw yesterday is to-day forgotten. But the master forgets nothing. He puts it all in that book. Each day something is written. Let your slave fetch the book, master, and turn its leaves. Maybe you will find some words there about Uledi. Maybe there is something that tells how he saved Zaidi from the white waters of the cataract; how he saved many men—how many, I forget; Bin Ali, Mabruki, Kooi Kusi—others, too; how he is worthier than any three of us; how he always listens when the master speaks, and flies forth at his word. Look, master, at the book. Then, if the blows must be struck, Shumari will take half and I the other half. The master will do what is right. Saywa has spoken.” And Saywa’s speech deserves to live forever. Stanley threw away his whip. “Uledi is free,” he said. “Shumari and Saywa are pardoned.”—Christian At Work.

(2815)

SAFEGUARD FOR DRUNKARDS

Fond du Lac, Wisconsin, has an ordinance requiring the photographs of known habitual drunkards to be placed in all the saloons in the city, with a notice forbidding saloon-keepers to sell liquor to them, on penalty of losing their licenses.

This new sort of rogues’ gallery is growing rapidly, but one addition to it was made voluntarily. It is the photograph of a poor fellow who begged to have it placed with the others, as his only chance of freedom from the tyranny of strong drink.

Set off against this pathetic story, how inhuman seem all the arguments for the licensing of saloons! The pitiable victims of the saloon-keeper would gladly escape his snare, but usually they can not. The insidious liquid has robbed them of their willpower. It has planted in their blood a horrible desire which nothing but more alcohol can satisfy.

(2816)

SAFETY FROM WATER-BROOKS

T. DeWitt Talmage notes some interesting facts about deer and water-brooks.

But there are two facts to which I want to call your attention. The first is that water-brooks not only saved the hunted deer by throwing the dogs off the trail, but also by making it possible for the deer to run in a straight line away from the dogs. I was very much surprized to find out that these water-brooks are to the deer what the compass is to a hunter in the woods—it keeps the deer from traveling in a circle.

The pursued deer, unless drawn by the scent of water, always runs in a circle. No sooner has a deer been shot at and the dogs been turned loose, than at once the deer, unless he has the guiding scent of water, seems to lose his reasoning faculties. He will run like the wind. He will run on and on—five, ten, fifteen or even twenty miles; but unless he can scent the water-brooks from afar, he will always travel in a circle and come back to the very place where the hunter first shot at him—back to the place where he will be shot at again. This circling flight of the deer is universally recognized. Some of the different State Legislatures have enacted game laws, which make it a felony for any man to hunt the deer by the means of hounds. Why? If they did not make such a law, the deer of those States would soon be exterminated. The circling flight of the deer makes it a very simple matter for a few hunters to stand in one place and shoot at the running game again and again, until the deer have been entirely slaughtered. (Text.)

(2817)

SAFETY IN HIGH LEVEL

You are familiar with the sight of the water-towers on the hills over many of our towns. Some one might say, “What is the use of the water-tower? Why should I be taxed to keep the level of the water above my own house? I have my private well and my excellent cistern. These are good enough for me.” But no citizen to-day would dream of saying this word. Every one knows that as the level is high in the water-tower, the safety, comfort, and health of the whole city are secured. The height of the level in the tower means that all alike can have the pure water. The height of the level means, when a conflagration arises, that the engines can put out the fire. So with the true thought of the Church. The true church is the water-tower of the city. Its life is for all. As the level is high, so the public safety, the public morals, the political life of the city is raised. When the level is high no real danger can come to the city. All alike, rich and poor, are fed and sustained, when the level of genuine religion rises high in the tower.—Charles F. Dale.

(2818)

Safety More Than Economy—See [Affluence, The Principles of].

Safety, So-called—See [Death, Christian Attitude Toward].

SAFETY VALVES

It is difficult to realize that only the other day an effort was made in Paris to replace the old magneto signaling system, with its little crank at the right of the telephone which has not been seen in large cities in this country for many years, by the much more convenient automatic signaling system. But the Paris correspondent of the New York Times says that such was the case. And, more curious still, the effort to introduce this improvement met with disfavor! The correspondent explains: “Hitherto excitable Frenchmen whiled away the time while awaiting ‘Central’ to answer, by grinding furiously at the crank bell-call. The new system denied them this form of relief. The result was that their pent-up feelings found outlet in imprecations and wild gesticulations. In many cases the telephones were damaged by poundings and shakings and had to be removed. It is said that the French Minister of Telephones was forced to admit that the imported system was a complete failure. ‘The new system may be good enough for the highly-trained Americans,’ he is quoted as saying, ‘but I am convinced that my excitable countrymen need the safety-valve of the old-fashioned bell.’”—The Western Electrician.

(2819)

Sagacity—See [Retreat Discouraged].

Sagacity in Evil—See [Impudence, Brazen].

SAGACITY SUPPLEMENTING SCIENCE

An English writer tells this story:

Once a French chemist came to Yorkshire, his object being to make his fortune. He believed that he might do this by picking up something which Yorkshiremen threw away. That something was soap-suds. The cloth-workers of Yorkshire use tons and tons of soap for scouring their materials, and throw away millions of gallons of soap-suds. Besides this, there are manufactories of sulfuric acid near at hand, and a large demand for machinery grease just thereabouts. He accordingly bought iron tanks, and erected works in the midst of the busiest center of the woolen manufacture. But he failed to pay expenses, for in his calculations he had omitted to allow for the fact that the soap liquor is much diluted, and therefore he must carry much water in order to obtain a little fat. This cost of carriage ruined his enterprise, and his works were offered for sale.

When he was about to demolish the works, the Frenchman took the purchaser, a shrewd Yorkshireman, into confidence, and told the story of his failure. The Yorkshireman, having finally assured himself that the carriage was the only difficulty, made an offer of partnership on the basis that the Frenchman should do the chemistry of the work, and that he should do the rest.

Accordingly, he went to the works around, and offered to contract for the purchase of all their soap-suds, if they would allow him to put up a tank or two on their premises. This he did; the acid was added, the fat rose to the surface, was skimmed off, and carried, without the water, to the central works. The Frenchman’s science and skill, united with the Yorkshireman’s practical sagacity, built up a flourishing business, and the grease thus made is still in great demand and high repute for lubricating the rolling-mills of iron-works, and for many other kinds of machinery.

(2820)

SAINTS

James Bryce, the British ambassador, in a speech before the St. George’s Society, is thus reported:

With regard to the patron saint of England, St. George, Mr. Bryce asked the diners if they had ever noticed that the saints never belonged to the countries which had adopted them. St. Denis was not a Frenchman, St. Andrew was not a Scotsman, and St. Patrick was not an Irishman. All that was known of St. George was that he slew the dragon, but no historian was certain where he came from. He was, anyhow, not an Englishman. The nearest approach the United States has to having a patron saint was George Washington, said Mr. Bryce, and he was born a British subject.—The New York Times.

(2821)

Saloon as a Hindrance to Aspiration—See [Chance for the Boy].

SALOON EFFECTS

Irving Grinell, of the Church Temperance Society, tells a story of a woman who entered a barroom and advanced quietly to her husband, who sat drinking with three other men. She placed a covered dish on the table and said, “Thinkin’ ye’d be too busy to come home to supper, Jack, I’ve fetched it to ye here.” She departed, and the man laughed awkwardly. He invited his friends to share the meal with him. Then he removed the cover from the dish. The dish was empty except for the slip of paper that read: “Here’s hopin’ ye’ll enjoy yer supper. It’s the same as yer wife and bairns have at home.”

(2822)

SALOON, FIGHTING THE

The people have suffered too much from the saloon to make concessions and adopt the gentle way of trying to smooth down the tiger’s back. They will insist on using Roosevelt’s way with fierce African lions. Wise was that man who, being remonstrated with for prodding the attacking bulldog with the tines of a pitchfork, and asked why he didn’t use the other end, indignantly inquired, “Why didn’t he come at me, then, with the other end?”

(2823)

SALOONS, BADNESS OF

It is a hopeful sign when the daily press begins to moralize on saloons after the manner of the Sioux Falls Press in the following extract:

A saloon is a saloon, in whatever light you view it, and if it all were scuttled and launched upon some limitless and bottomless lake, not a tear would trickle down our cheeks. A better saloon? You might as well talk of a better rotten egg, a better highway robber, a better thief, a better yeggman, a better bum, a better gambler, a better case of measles, typhoid-fever, smallpox, erysipelas, a better Five Points, a better place for the committing of murder, robbery, or any other shameless crime.

(2824)

See [Drink]; [Drunkenness]; [Intemperance]; [Temperance].

SALVABILITY

Every man, even the worst, has some vital point at which he can be touched and helped, as was the paralytic mentioned below:

Dr. Swithinbank describes a real case of bodily paralysis in a medical record in Paris: A man was attacked by a creeping paralysis; sight was first to fail; soon after, hearing went; then by degrees, taste, smell, touch, and the power of motion. He could breathe, he could swallow, he could think, and strange to say, he could speak; that was all. Not the very slightest message from without could reach his mind; nothing to tell him what was near, who was still alive; the world was utterly lost to him, and he all but lost to the world. At last, one day, an accident showed that one small place on one cheek had feeling left. It seemed a revelation from heaven. By tracing letters on that place, his wife and children could speak to him, his dark dungeon-wall was pierced, his tongue had never lost its power, and once more he was a man among men.

(2825)

Salvation a Gift—See [Grace not Growth].

SALVATION BY EVANGELIZATION

During the forty years between 1778 and 1818, the population had decreased from 400,000 to 150,000—nearly two-thirds; so that the Christian enterprise which evangelized the Hawaiians saved a nation from extinction, for in twenty years more, at the same rate of decrease, the Hawaiian Islands would have been an uninhabited waste.—Pierson, “The Miracles of Missions.”

(2826)

SALVATION FROM SIN

In speaking once of his religious life, Captain Mahan, of the United States Navy, had this to say:

I happened one week-day in Lent into a church in Boston. The preacher—I have never known his name—interested me throughout; but one phrase only has remained: “Thou shalt call his name Jesus, for He shall save His people”—here he lifted up his hands—“not from hell, but from their sins.” Almost the first words of the gospel! I had seen them for years, but at last I perceived them. Scales seemed to fall from my eyes, and I began to see Jesus and life as I had never seen them before.

(2827)

Salvation, Half Way—See [Sight, Imperfect].

SAMPLING

This story used to be told by Mr. Spurgeon:

An American gentleman said to a friend, “I wish you would come down to my garden, and taste my apples.” He asked him about a dozen times, but the friend did not come; and at last the fruit-grower said, “I suppose you think my apples are good for nothing, so you won’t come and try them.” “Well, to tell the truth,” said his friend, “I have tasted them. As I went along the road I picked one up that fell over the wall, and I never tasted anything so sour in all my life; I do not particularly wish to have any more of your fruit.” “Oh,” said the owner of the garden, “I thought it must be so. Those apples around the outside are for the special benefit of the boys. I went fifty miles to select the sourest sorts to plant all around the orchard, so the boys might give them up as not worth stealing; but if you will come inside, you will find that we grow a very different quality there, sweet as honey.”

(2828)

Sandals—See [Bible Customs To-day].

Sanity is Social—See [Concert, Lack of].

Satan, Defeating—See [Mastery by Intelligence].

Satanic Possession—See [Diabolical Possession].

SATIRE

Satire—that is, a literary work which searches out the faults of men or institutions in order to hold them up to ridicule—is at best a destructive kind of criticism. A satirist is like a laborer who clears away the ruins and rubbish of an old house before the architect and builders begin on a new and beautiful structure. The work may sometimes be necessary, but it rarely arouses our enthusiasm. While the satires of Pope, Swift, and Addison are doubtless the best in our language, we hardly place them with our great literature, which is always constructive in spirit; and we have the feeling that all these men were capable of better things than they ever wrote.—William J. Long, “English Literature.”

(2829)

SAVAGES AT OUR DOORS

Less than three thousand miles from the city of New York, and about a third of that distance from San Francisco, there is situated, in the upper reaches of the Gulf of California, a small island, worthless even for so mean a purpose as the raising of goats, but nevertheless a center of attraction for the ethnologists and archeologists of the Old and New Worlds for many generations. This rock peak, rising from the quiet waters of the gulf, is known as Tiburon Island. Tiburon is a Spanish word which, translated into English means “shark.” The waters around the islet are literally swarming with these tigers of the sea, and the inhabitants of the island are said to be no less ferocious than the sharks. Tiburon is peopled with a handful of Indians, the only aborigines of their kind in the world, known as Seris. They are reputed to be cannibals, to be so fierce that none of the mainland tribes of Mexican redskins ever dare invade their shores, and to possess the secret of manufacture of a peculiarly deadly poison, with which they prepare their arrows before battle.—Wide World Magazine.

(2830)

SAVED AS BY FIRE

Rev. C. H. Spurgeon used to tell this story:

A woman in Scotland, who was determined not to have anything to do with religion, threw her Bible and all the tracts she could find into the fire. One tract fell out of the flames, so she thrust it in again. A second time it slipt down, and once more she put it back. Again her evil intention was frustrated, but a third effort was more successful, tho even then only half of it was consumed. Taking up this half, she exclaimed, “Surely the devil is in that tract, for it won’t burn.”

Her curiosity being excited, she began to read it, and it was the means of her conversion. It was one of the sermons published in “The Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit.” (Text.)

(2831)

SAVED IN SERVICE

The value of discipline to develop the soul is pointed out in this verse by Charles C. Earle:

Forbid for me an easy place,

O God, in some sequestered nook

Apart to lie,

To doze and dream and weaker grow,

Until I die.

Give me, O Lord, a task so hard,

That all my powers shall taxéd be

To do my best,

That I may stronger grow in toil,

For harder service fitted be,

Until I rest.

This my reward—development

From what I am to what Thou art.

For this I plead;

Wrought out, by being wrought upon,

By deeds reflexive, done in love,

For those in need.

(2832)

Saving—See [Discovery, Benefits from].

Saving by Good Habits—See [Resolutions, Good].

SAVING DISAPPROVED

Down with the little toy savings-bank! I believe it teaches children to be selfish. I hate to see a child, a sweet, innocent child, with dimpled hands and a laughing face, clutch the penny or the nickel you give it close in its little fingers, and run first to drop it into the greedy, miserly “savings-bank,” and then come back to thank you. We teach the child to be selfish when we give it a penny to drop in the missionary-box and fifty cents to buy a toy for itself; to dole out a penny a week for charity and keep the savings-bank rattling full. But haven’t I a savings-bank in my home? Indeed I have; and I’d like to see you or any other man, except one of my dear friends the Vanderbilts, pour money into the top of that savings bank as fast as the prince can draw it out of the bottom. That’s the way to run a bank. Make her useful; milk her. “Mr. Speaker,” said the California legislator, “may I ask how much money there is in the State treasury?” The speaker estimated about $40,000. “Then,” said the member, “I move to rake her. What good does the money do locked up? If you don’t spend it, some alderman will get hold of it.”—Robert Burdette.

(2833)

Saving Life—See [Life-saving by Wireless].

Savings of Aliens—See [Prosperity as an Advertisement].

Saviors—See [Personality as a Redemptive Force].

SCARS OF WAR HEALED

To-day the shells and fragments used in the war between Russia and Japan are to be found only in the junk-shops of Port Arthur, and crops of vegetables and millet mantle with living green some of the fort-hills where desolation and death reigned during the five months of the siege.

The bloodstains and the gruesome dis-coloring of the soil around the edges of some of the shallow, overcrowded graves have disappeared. There was no trace left of the largest blood blotch, a dreadful black smut twenty feet by four or five feet on the side of 203-Meter Hill, which was in evidence for many months after the last fighting. God’s healing rains have washed the hill clean and are filling in and covering with the green of His love the trenches and other scars left by man’s lust and hate. (Text.)

(2834)

Scavengers—See [Immunity from Disease].

School versus Saloon—See [Chance for the Boy].

Science a Benefactor—See [Extermination].

Science and Health—See [Health and Science].

Science and Religion—See [Self-sacrifice in Nature].

Science and Saving—See [Discovery, Benefits from].

SCIENCE, DEVOTION TO

When Augustine Thierry, having withdrawn himself from the world and retired to his library, to investigate the origin, the causes and the effects, of the early and successive Germanic invasions, and, having passed six years “in poring with the pertinacity of a Benedictine monk over worm-eaten manuscripts, and deciphering and comparing black-letter texts,” had at last completed his magnificent “History of the Conquest,” the publication of which introduced a new era in French historical composition, he had lost his sight. The most precious of the senses had been sacrificed to his zeal in literary research. The beauties of nature, and the records of scholarship were thenceforth shut from him, and other eyes, to assist his future efforts. Prodigious sacrifice! And yet not such he thought it; for he said long afterward, in a letter to a friend: “Were I to begin my life over again, I would choose the road that has conducted me to where I now am. Blind and afflicted, without hope and without leisure, I can safely offer this testimony, the sincerity of which, coming from a man in my condition, can not be called in question. There is something in this world worth more than pleasure, more than fortune, more than health itself; I mean devotion to science!” (Text.)—Richard S. Storrs.

(2835)

Science Exposes Fraud—See [Liar Exposed].

SCIENCE, IMPROVEMENTS BY

“The inferiority of the human sense organ to the instruments of science is pointed out by Dr. Carl Snyder,” says The American Inventor. “He says that whereas the human eye can see but little more than 3,000 stars in the heaven on the clearest of nights, the photographic plate and the telescope can discover countless millions. It is difficult for the eye to distinguish divisions of the inch if smaller than 1-200 of that unit of measure, yet a powerful microscope will make an object 1-1,000 of an inch in diameter look comparatively large. It would be a delicate ear which could hear the tramp of a fly, yet the microphone magnifies this sound until it sounds like the tramp of cavalry. The most sensitive skin can not detect a change in temperature less than 1-5 of a degree, but the bolometer will register on a scale an increase or decrease of temperature of 1-1,000,000 of a degree and can easily note the difference in temperature caused in a room when a match is lighted one mile away.”

(2836)

SCIENCE PREVENTING CRIME

Manufacturers of safes will be impelled to fight the scientific burglar with his own weapons. In somewhat the same fashion by which time-locks prevent the opening of the lock of a safe during certain hours, it will be comparatively easy to introduce into safe-construction chemico-mechanical devices which, during a limited time, would render it either fatal or physically impossible to remain in the vicinity of a safe or vault, were the walls or doors tampered with to such an extent as to allow access to the interior. By use of a very simple form of apparatus containing potassium cyanid and sulfuric acid, a robber would expose himself to the deadly fumes of prussic acid.

Less dangerous, through possibilities of accident to those regularly using a safe, would be the employment of substances crippling a safe-blower or forcing him to an instantaneous retreat. The volatilization of a few drops of ethyl-dichlor-acetate would cause such profuse and persistent weeping that one in the neighborhood would be temporarily blinded if he persisted in remaining. The breaking of a tube of liquid ammonia would render immediate withdrawal imperative under peril of suffocation.—Thomas H. Norton, Machinery.

(2837)

SCIENCE SHATTERING SUPERSTITIONS

There are large numbers of people perpetually bemoaning our degeneracy, and sighing over the departure of the “good old times” of our early American life. The reason of the present distressing state of affairs I heard explained not long ago. One man thought it was because all the “good old doctrines” were nowadays not preached at all, and the other was equally sure that it was because they were preached all the time. Never was a grander fallacy than this whole idea. Never was more ignorance of the past displayed than by those who talk of the falling away of modern times. Never was the Church so bright and fair as now, and never did the sky of the future redden with a more glorious promise of the coming day. In those “good old times” men lived under the horrid shadows of frightful superstitions. Now it is to modern science only that we owe our emancipation from the yoke of this awful tyranny. Scientific explorers have been over the earth; and finding no mouth of hell, that is gone. Science has explained earthquakes and volcanoes, and now devils fight no longer in the bowels of the earth. Etna and Vesuvius are no longer vent-holes of the pit. Astronomy has shattered the follies of astrology; and people have found out that the stars are minding their own business instead of meddling with theirs, and eclipses are no longer moon-swallowing monsters—are only very natural and well behaved shadows. Since psychology is studied we know that witchcraft is folly, and insanity only a disease to be treated and cured. Thus science—like a mother going up-stairs to bed with her frightened boy—has been with her candle into all the old dark corners that used to make us creep, and cringe, and shiver with terror.—Minot J. Savage, The Arena.

(2838)

SCIENCE TRAINS TO SEE

Where the untrained eye will see nothing but mire and dirt (says Sir John Lubbock), science will often reveal exquisite possibilities. The mud we tread under our feet in the street is a grimy mixture of clay and sand, soot and water. Separate the sand, however, as Ruskin observes—let the atoms arrange themselves in peace according to their nature—and you have the opal. Separate the clay and it becomes a white earth, for the finest porcelain; or if it still further purifies itself you have a sapphire. Take the soot, and if properly treated it will give you a diamond. While, lastly, the water purified and distilled, will become a dew-drop or crystallize into a lovely star. Or, again, you may see in a shallow pool either the mud lying at the bottom or the image of the sky above.—Public Opinion.

(2839)

Scripture—See [Conscience].

Scripture and Experience—See [Interpretation by Experience].

SCRIPTURE FOR ALL OCCASIONS

If you have the blues read the Twenty-seventh Psalm.

If your pocketbook is empty read the Thirty-seventh Psalm.

If people seem unkind, 1 John 4.

If you are discouraged about your work, 126th Psalm.

If you are all out of sorts, twelfth chapter Hebrews.

If you are losing confidence in men, thirteenth chapter, 1 Corinthians.

If you can not have your own way about everything, James 3.

If you are anxious, Matthew 6.—Honolulu Times.

(2840)

Scruples, Hindering—See [Action, Instant].

SCRUPLES, MINUTE

Roger North gives an instance of the lawyer’s absurd attachment to mere forms. In his days the Court of Common Pleas used to sit in Westminster Hall, close to the great door, in order that suitors and their train might readily pass in and out. When the wind was in the north, this situation was found very cold, and it was proposed to move the court farther back, to a warmer place. “But the Lord Chief Justice Bridgman,” says North, “would not agree to it, as it was against Magna Charta, which says that the Common Pleas shall be held in certo loco (in a certain place), with which the distance of an inch from that place is inconsistent, and all the pleas would be coram non judice (before one who is not the proper judge).” (Text.)—Croake James, “Curiosities of Law and Lawyers.”

(2841)

Sea Helping the Land—See [Evidence, Providential].

Sea, The—See [Solace of the Sea].

Sea, The, As a Land Grabber—See [Mutation.]

Sea, Wealth of the—See [Opportunity Lost].

Seaman, A Struggling—See [Coolness in Danger].

SEASICKNESS

The ship upon clearing the harbor ran into a half-pitching, half-rolling sea that became particularly noticeable about the time the twenty-five passengers at the captain’s table sat down to dinner.

“I hope that all twenty-five of you will have a pleasant trip,” the captain told them as the soup appeared, “and that this little assembly of twenty-four will reach port much benefited by the voyage. I look upon these twenty-two smiling faces much as a father does upon his family, for I am responsible for the safety of this group of seventeen. I hope that all fourteen of you will join me later in drinking to a merry trip. I believe that we eight fellow passengers are most congenial, and I applaud the judgment which chose from the passenger-list these three persons for my table. You and I, my dear sir, er—here, steward! Bring on the fish and clear away these dishes.”—National Monthly.

(2842)

Searching Christ, The—See [Christ, The Searching].

Seaweed, The Value of—See [Utilizing Seaweed].

SEARCHING FOR VALUES

As we behold men going up and down the corn-fields of history, they are plucking the ears of corn as they journey. What are you reaching after with those long mental fingers, O Shakespeare? “I’ve seen how the corn of human nature grows upon the stalk of life, and I’m plucking at the heart of this mystery.” What are those great hands grasping after, O Beethoven? “I’m dreaming of unblended harmonies my deaf ears have never heard, and these hands are trying to pluck them from out the invisible realms of harmony.” Why run those hands up into the sleeve of darkness, O Milton? They seem to be straining after something. “Worlds of light lie behind these dead eyes of mine. I’ve seen an angel and heard him sing, and these hands are fumbling about in the darkness hunting for words to tell about his song.” What are those majestic hands reaching after, O Angelo? “I need a few bars of light, a few bursts of morning, a few scraps of sunset, to show men how God paints pictures. I’m plucking the golden ears of color from nature’s garden to hang up in a picture gallery.”—F. F. Shannon.

(2843)

SEARCH-LIGHTS

Moral and spiritual search-lights are needed to warn and illuminate the soul, just as the search-lights noted here are used to help the mariner as he approaches land.

“It has been announced,” says The Electrical Review, “that one of the features of the Lewis & Clark exposition will be a large search-light surmounting Mount Hood. This will be used to good effect for illuminating the snow-capped mountain-peaks within one hundred miles of the light. It is also said that the beam thrown from this search-light will be visible to vessels one hundred miles off the coast. This statement suggests that the search-light might be used as a valuable aid in lighthouse service, for warning vessels when they are approaching land. The ordinary range of visibility of a lighthouse is about twenty or twenty-five miles. For a lightship it is somewhat less, as the light is lower. Now, a powerful search-light can throw a beam upward which will be seen thirty or forty miles, under favorable conditions. It is probable that a powerful ray thrown vertically upward from a lighthouse would be visible long before the direct rays of the lighthouse could be seen. A somewhat similar scheme has been tried on railroads, where a beam from the electric headlight of a locomotive was thrown upward as a warning to the engineers of other locomotives.”

(2844)

Seasons Estimated—See [Compensation].

SEASONS, VALUE OF

All our States have laws which prohibit the hunting of game at certain times specified and by given methods. The greater part of the year is close time for shooting most kinds of animals and birds. The wild beasts which are to be followed for sport need opportunity to increase and grow, and if left to the whim of individuals would be exterminated. As there are prohibitions to prevent the extinction of the young animals, so there needs to be a close time on character, when we do not allow ourselves to indulge in things which excite our nerves and draw our strength from our bodies and minds. We check our reading, and are careful of sleep and food and exercise.—“Monday Club, Sermons on the International Sunday-school Lessons for 1904.”

(2845)

Second Thought—See [Repentance].

Secrecy in Sin—See [Hypocrisy].

Secret Service Disclosures—See [Criminals, Tracing].

SECRET THINGS

An ancient philosopher, it is said, was accustomed to go about carrying a parcel covered with a napkin. To all inquiries as to the contents of the parcel his answer was: “Wherefore the napkin?” meaning that there are some things God has not been pleased to reveal to men. (Text.)

(2846)

Secret Unpurchasable—See [Kindness, The Power of].

SECRETS

Sir Joshua Reynolds, like Wilson, had his secrets of color and his mysteries of painting. He was fond of endeavoring to discover the secrets of the old painters.

It was his wont to dissect some of their works in order to find out their art of coloring and finishing. He pursued his experiments secretly and kept his discoveries to himself. In this search for the hidden secrets of his art he destroyed many old paintings of the Venetian school to the serious loss of the world of art. (Text.)

(2847)

Secrets Will Out—See [Utterance].

Securities—See [Precautions].

SECURITY

The soul is secure that stands on the Rock of Ages.

A man was sent out on a rocky promontory in Scotland where his signals might help a ship working its way in through the difficult channel in a great storm. Great waves beat upon that promontory and their spray wet the flagman to the skin, but he stood his dangerous ground and signaled the ship in. After she was in some one asked him if he did not tremble as he stood out there. He answered: “My legs trembled, but the rock didn’t tremble. I never knew before how solid that rock was.”—Franklin Noble, “Sermons in Illustration.”

(2848)

SEEING ALL AROUND

We would find it a great advantage in life if our mental apprehension was capable of including the entire horizon as the insect mentioned below is able to see in all directions.

A boy is often easily surprized by a playmate who approaches him stealthily from behind, but did you ever try the same game with a butterfly? I have, many a time. After getting cautiously so near to a butterfly at rest as to be able to distinguish between its head and its hinder extremity, I have quietly circled round it so as to approach it from behind, being at the time under the impression that it wouldn’t see me under those circumstances. But not the slightest advantage did I derive from this stratagem, for the position and construction of its eyes enabled it to see almost all ways at once.—W. Furneaux, “Butterflies and Moths.”

(2849)

---

Many insects have a great number of eyes, because the orb of the eye is fixt; there is, therefore, placed over the eye a multiple lens which conducts light to the eye from every direction; so that the insect can see with a fixt eye as readily as it could have done with a movable one. As many as 1,400 eyes, or inlets of light, have been counted in the head of a drone bee. The spider has eight eyes, mounted on different parts of the head; two in front, two in the top of the head, and two on each side.

One mark of the well-balanced man is the ability to see in all directions.

(2850)

SEEING, THE ART OF

I once spent a summer day at the mountain home of a well-known literary woman and editor. She lamented the absence of birds about her house. I named a half-dozen or more I had heard in her trees within an hour—the indigo-bird, the purple finch, the yellow-bird, the veery thrush, the red-eyed vireo, the song sparrow.

“Do you mean to say you have seen or heard all these birds while sitting here on my porch?” she inquired.

“I really have,” I said.

“I do not see them or hear them,” she said, “and yet I want to very much.”

“No,” said I; “you only want to want to see and hear them.”

You must have the bird in your heart before you can find it in the bush. (Text.)—John Burroughs, “Leaf and Tendril.”

(2851)

SEEKING AND FINDING

Tho the inventors have busied their brains for almost a century in an effort to find a substitute for wood pulp in the production of paper, their efforts hitherto met with failure. Recently an industrial concern has issued its prospectus, printed upon paper manufactured from cornstalks in its experimental plant. The paper is of good quality and proves the availability of cornstalks for this purpose.

An earnest search for that which will benefit humanity will sooner or later be rewarded with success. (Text.)

(2852)

SEEKING SERVICE

I have a wealthy friend in Paris who is spending his money not very wisely, but not very wickedly. Some of his acquaintances suggested to him that it would help him socially and give him more prestige, if he could go to America and induce President Roosevelt to appoint him as a member of our American embassy in Paris. So he came to Washington and went to see the President, who very kindly granted him an audience. He spoke the little speech that he had prepared to give, beginning by saying, “I think that I could serve my country, perhaps, if I should have this appointment in Paris.” President Roosevelt spoke right up, as he is apt to do and said: “My young friend, a man desiring to serve his country does not begin by saying where he is going to serve.”—Charles R. Erdman, “Student Volunteer Movement,” 1906.

(2853)

SELECTION

The world is much what we make it.

The “man with the muckrake” hated his work, and with good reason. “How sweet is the smell of those pine boards!” said a lady to her friend as they were walking near the river in Chicago. “Pine boards,” he exclaimed; “just smell that foul river!” “No, thank you,” she answered, “I prefer to smell pine boards.”—Franklin Noble, “Sermons in Illustration.”

(2854)

SELECTION BY PURPOSE

Some years ago a cotton-planter in Georgia observed that the leaves on one of his plants was unlike the usual leaf; it was divided as if into fingers. So far nature had gone. The planter added his intelligence. He concluded that such a divided leaf would let in more sunshine on the cotton; also such a leaf would not be comfortable for caterpillars. So he searched out one or two of these peculiar plants, transplanted them to a field by themselves. As they propagated, he plucked up those with the old leaf, cultivated those with the new, and now these new cotton plants, finer than the old, free from caterpillars, are spread through many regions. That is human selection, based on natural selection, securing the fruits of evolution. It is just as applicable to man as to vegetation. A better man may be bred as well as a better kind of cotton.—Moncure D. Conway, The Monist.

(2855)

Selection Justified—See [Triumph by Selection].

Self-abnegation—See [Modesty].

SELF-BLAME

A story of Henry Ward Beecher is told in Christian Work.

Mr. Beecher had been addressing an association of Congregational ministers somewhere in New York State, and when he had finished his address he said he would be glad to answer any questions if any of the younger brethren had anything that perplexed them. Immediately, a young clergyman arose and said, “Mr. Beecher, we have in our little church at —— a very estimable man, but the moment I begin preaching he falls asleep and snores, so he disturbs the whole congregation and absolutely spoils the effect of the sermon. But he is the only rich man we have, and he is the main support of the church, and we dare not say anything to him for fear we might offend him. Now, what would you do in such a case as that?” Mr. Beecher admitted it was a puzzling situation, and then he said: “We get around it in Plymouth Church in this way: I give my sexton orders to keep close watch of the congregation, and the moment he sees any man asleep to go right up and slap me on the back.”

(2856)

SELF-CENTERED

The Rev. C. A. S. Dwight, in an article on “Timing the Sun,” writes as follows:

There is a story of a punctilious Yankee who was fond of boasting that his watch had never been slow or fast for forty years. One morning he rose to see the sun rise. He kept looking at his wonderful watch and consulting at the same time a farmers’ almanac. There was a pause in the dawn. The Yankee grew impatient. Tapping his watch, he exclaimed: “If that sun ain’t over the hill in a minute and a half he’ll be late!”

Some men have “views” which they have carefully carried with them for years, as that Yankee did his watch. If events do not square with their views, so much the worse for the events. All such measurings of the eternal by the local tests of human opinion or of conventional standards is vain. The sun knows what he is about. It is the part of wisdom to correct one’s timepiece by the sun and not to try to run unassisted the astronomical machinery of the whole universe.

(2857)

SELF-CONFIDENCE

When the little Corsican, Napoleon Bonaparte, a feeble youth at the beginning of his wonderful career, was presented to the convention of France as the man who could rescue the country from its peril, the president fixt his eye upon him dubiously and said: “Are you willing to undertake our defense?” “Yes,” was the calm and confident reply. “But are you aware of the magnitude of the undertaking?” asked the president again. “Fully,” said Napoleon, fixing his piercing eye upon the questioner, adding, “and I am in the habit of accomplishing that which I undertake.”

A similar self-confidence has often proved the one great secret of a successful career.

(2858)

---

As Napoleon was contemplating one of his great campaigns, his uncle, Cardinal Fesch, was dissuading him. Napoleon opened the window, pointed and said:

“Do you see that star?”

Cardinal Fesch said: “No; I see no star.”

Napoleon turned his back upon him and said: “But I see it.”

To see your star whether other men see it or not, whether other men believe in it or not; to believe in yourself—that may be to discover that hidden self that is nobler than you have ever been.

(2859)

---

At one time, skilled artist tho he was, Constable was curiously ready to make alterations in his pictures to please persons of very little judgment in the case. At last, however, he rebelled. He was finishing his famous picture “The Dell,” when he was beset by an adviser: “Don’t you see,” retorted Constable, “that I might go on and make this picture so good that it would be good for nothing.” Being asked on another occasion if a certain picture on the easel was painted for any particular person, he replied: “Yes, sir; it is painted for a very particular person, the person for whom I have all my life painted.” (Text.)

(2860)

SELF-CONFIDENCE MISPLACED

In a current magazine we find the following:

Some years ago an attorney was called in by a large company and handed a lease.

“Give us your opinion,” said the president. “We have a great deal of this sort of legal business, and it is only fair to say that your opinion may mean much to us and to yourself.”

The lawyer went through the document with some care, but quickly, and on the spot.

“This is one of the best-drawn leases I have ever examined,” he said heartily. “You are wise to handle such matters inside your own organization. I commend your business judgment.”

“Can you suggest any improvements?”

“None whatever,” declared the lawyer.

“Can you discern any flaws?”

“No—emphatically! Mr. Johns,” continued the attorney, turning to the president’s assistant, “I want to congratulate you, as a lawyer, upon your thorough grasp of this most difficult branch. In my opinion this instrument is unassailable. It will hold in the highest court in this State.”

“That is what we want—your honest opinion,” said the president. “You have given it, and we are much obliged to you, and shall be pleased to have a bill for your service. My dear sir, the highest court in the State declared this lease null and void last week, and we have lost a ten-thousand-dollar suit upon it!”

Both the business man who drew the lease and the lawyer who approved it were mistaken. They believed in themselves, but a higher tribunal showed their fallibility.

(2861)

SELF-CONFLICT

A friend once asked an aged man what caused him to complain so often at eventide of pain and weariness. “Alas,” replied he, “I have every day so much to do. I have two falcons to tame, two hares to keep from running away, two hawks to manage, a serpent to confine, a lion to chain and a sick man to tend and wait upon.”

“Well, well,” commented his friend, “you are busy, indeed! But I didn’t know that you had anything to do with a menagerie. How, then, do you make that out?”

“Why,” continued the old man, “listen. Two falcons are my eyes, which I must guard diligently; the two hares are my feet, which I must keep from walking in the ways of sin; the two hawks are my hands, which I must train to work, that I may provide for myself and those dependent on me as well as for a needy friend occasionally; the serpent is my tongue, which I must keep ever bridled lest it speak unseemly; the lion is my heart, with which I have a continual fight lest evil things come out of it, and the sick man is my whole body, which is always needing my watchfulness and care. All this daily wears out my strength.”—Du Quoin Tribune.

(2862)

Self-conquest—See [Victory in Defeat].

SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS

Some young Christians are timid and self-conscious, and can not help it; what is to be done then? We once knew a child who was so painfully bashful that anything that called attention to herself was a positive torture to her. So simple an act as to step across the aisle and hand a hymn-book made her heart beat wildly. Then one day she saw a report of an organization which was called “A Bridge from the Island of Supply to the Island of Want.” Her mother, who saw that her little girl’s usefulness in life would be greatly curtailed if she yielded to her foolish fear, talked to her seriously and said: “Don’t think of yourself as yourself, but think of yourself as God’s bridge. Whenever He gives you an opportunity to do anything that would help any one, or a thought that would make any one happy for you to tell it, just say, ‘Now, I’m not anybody in myself; I’m just God’s bridge, and I must let Him pass over me to this service.’ If you see the need and have the supply, no matter what it is, then you are God’s bridge, and you must be a strong bridge so that His path may not be broken.” She soon learned to forget all about herself in her own personality, and forgetting herself, forgot her fear. (Text.)—May F. McKean, Zion’s Advocate.

(2863)

SELF-CONTROL

The name of Charles E. Hughes, Governor of New York, is deservedly held in esteem for the many admirable qualities of character possest. That the child is father to the man is shown in this incident which exhibits an unusual power of self-control in one so young.

For five years, until his tenth year, he studied at home. His mother taught him the primary studies, as well as French, German, and mathematics; his father, Greek and Latin. That mastery of self which Mr. Hughes afterward manifested he also taught himself as a child. He always recited his lessons standing, and, like most children, had at first considerable difficulty in keeping still. He evidently thought the thing all out for himself; and one day, with no suggestion from his mother, who was then hearing his lessons, he announced that he had found a method of controlling his rebellious members. He selected a seam in the carpet, placed his toes firmly against it, shut his heels tightly together, and assumed a determined, soldierlike pose. From that day Mr. Hughes has had entire command of himself. (Text.)

(2864)

Self-deception—See [Facts, Ignoring].

SELF-DEPENDENCE

By thine own soul’s law learn to live;

And if men thwart thee, take no heed;

And if men hate thee, have no care—

Sing thou thy song, and do thy deed;

Hope thou thy hope, and pray thy prayer,

And claim no crown they will not give.

—John G. Whittier.

(2865)

SELF-DEPRECIATION

When Deacon Hotchkiss bought Brother Bemis’ yearling heifer he demanded a guarantee of the animal’s condition, and he asked Brother Bemis to swear to that guarantee before the justice of peace. Brother Bemis was hurt by this unusual precaution on the part of a lifelong friend and neighbor. “Why, Brother Hotchkiss,” he remonstrated, “you ain’t no need to be so pesky s’picious with me. I ain’t never cheated you, hev I? You wa’nt like this never before.” “I wa’nt—I wa’nt,” assented Brother Hotchkiss cordially, “but I hearn you t’other night when you wuz on the anxious seat at revival meetin’ and I sez to myself, sez I, ‘if Brother Bemis is half the sinner he makes himself out to be, it behooves me to be everlastin’ keerful with him next caow trade.’” Which goes to show that a man is more likely to be taken at his own estimate of himself when he puts that estimate low than when he puts it high; and that it is not overwise in a man to make estimate of himself in time of excitement and a place of publicity. (Text.)—Puck.

(2866)

SELF-DISPLAY

Many men embrace the most trivial opportunities to attract attention to themselves, with far less reason than the great actor in this incident recorded in Scribner’s Magazine:

Nothing else he ever did equaled Mansfield’s recital of his experience the night he condescended to the plebeian rôle of a waiter and wore an apron. His whole “business” was to draw a cork, but he took pains to drive that cork home before coming on the stage. When his cue came to draw the cork he tugged and tugged in vain. His face grew scarlet and perspiration dropt from his forehead. Then he handed the bottle to another waiter, who struggled with all his strength without budging the cork. Mansfield turned a deaf ear to the voices in the wings shouting for him to leave the stage. He took the bottle back again and with renewed effort finally dislodged the cork. The insignificant pop it gave after those Titanic efforts again brought down the house.

(2867)

SELF-EFFACEMENT

Was Rafael, think you, when he painted his pictures of the Virgin and Child in all their inconceivable truth and beauty of expression, thinking most of his subject or of himself? Do you suppose that Titian, when he painted a landscape, was pluming himself on being thought the finest colorist in the world, or making himself so by looking at nature? Do you imagine that Shakespeare, when he wrote “Lear” or “Othello,” was thinking of anything but “Lear” and “Othello”? Or that Mr. Kean, when he plays these characters, is thinking of the audience? No; he who would be great in the eyes of others, must first learn to be nothing in his own. (Text.)—William Hazlitt.

(2868)

SELF-ESTEEM

We may be properly independent of the patronage of royalty, but this independence need not take the form of rudeness as with the musician in these incidents:

Liszt refused to play at court of Queen Isabella in Spain because the court etiquette forbade the introduction of musicians to royalty. In his opinion even crowned heads owed a certain deference and homage to the sovereignities of art, and he determined it should be paid.

He met Czar Nicholas I, who had very little notion of the respect due to any one but himself, with an angry look and a defiant word; he tossed Frederick William IV’s diamonds into the side scenes, and broke a lance with Louis Philippe, which cost him a decoration. He never forgave that thrifty King for abolishing certain musical pensions and otherwise snubbing art. He refused on every occasion to play at the Tuilleries. One day the king and his suite paid a “private view” visit to a pianoforte exhibition of Erard’s. Liszt happened to be in the room, and was trying a piano just as his Majesty entered. The King advanced genially toward him and began a conversation, but Liszt merely bowed with a polished but icy reserve.

“Do you still remember,” said the King, “that you played at my house when you were but a boy and I Duke of Orleans? Much has changed since then.”

“Yes, sire,” replied Liszt dryly, “but not for the better.”

The King showed his royal appreciation of the repartee by striking the great musician’s name off the list of those who were about to receive the Cross of the Legion of Honor.—H. R. Haweis, “My Musical Memories.”

(2869)

SELF-ESTIMATE

John the Baptist said of Christ, “He must increase but I must decrease.” Scott’s attitude toward Byron was similar.

It is characteristic of Scott that he knew perfectly well when Byron began to write his day was over. He quietly said Byron had “bet him,” and he never sang again. Without a touch of jealousy, with simple manliness, Scott admitted that a greater poet than himself had come, and instead of waging a losing battle for his lost supremacy, he praised his rival, and then left the arena with all the honors of war. There are few men who could have done this. That Scott did it, and did it easily, is at once a proof of the sturdy manliness of his nature, and of the robust common sense and generosity which marked his character.—W. J. Dawson, “The Makers of English Poetry.”

(2870)

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That we should try to see ourselves as others see us is a rule well illustrated by R. H. Haweis in what he says on learning to play the violin:

I had found means to make the flimsiest strings yield up sounds which I need not here characterize, and to such purpose that it became a question of some interest how long such sounds could be endured by the human ear. I do not mean my own. All violinists, including infants on the eighteen-penny ones, admit that to their own ear the sounds produced are nothing but delightful; it is only those who do not make them who complain.

(2871)

Self-examination—See [Self-inspection.]

SELF-FLATTERY

We are all of us susceptible to the good opinions of others, and sometimes we are apt to fall into the bad habit of lauding ourselves. An illustration of this is seen in the following:

Once when Moltke heard himself compared to Cæsar, Turenne, Marlborough, Wellington, and others, he remarked: “No; I have no right to rank with such great captains, for I have never commanded a retreat”—which at the same time conveyed a subtle compliment to himself. Bismarck was equally subtle when he was asked whom he thought to have been the ablest plenipotentiary at the Congress of Berlin. “I don’t know about the ablest,” he replied with a grim smile, “but the next ablest was certainly Lord Beaconsfield.” (Text.)

(2872)

SELF-FORGETTING

The first principle of Christianity is to forget one’s self. When Wilberforce was straining every energy to get his bill for the emancipation of slaves passed, a lady once said to him, “Mr. Wilberforce, I’m afraid you are so busy about those slaves that you are neglecting your own soul.” “True, madam,” he said; “I had quite forgotten that I have one.” That remark contains one of the deepest truths of Christianity. (Text.)

(2873)

SELF-HELP

At one time in a battle between the English and French, the Prince of Wales became the center of the enemies’ attacks. As the Germans, men of Savoy, and other fierce foreigners broke through the royal division, a messenger was despatched in haste to the King, entreating his aid. The British ruler had taken his stand on a hill to watch the battle at a safe distance.

The King replied, “Return to him and to them that sent you hither and tell them from me that they do not send to me again or look for my coming so long as my son shall live. Suffer him this day ‘to win his spurs.’”

At the time of evening vespers, the prince had wrought a victory. The King, followed by his entire battalion, left the hill and advanced to meet the Prince of Wales. He embraced him and kissed him, saying, “Sweet son, God give you grace. You have acquitted yourself well.”

Does not God often appear to withhold aid only that we may have the joy of winning victories by our own powers? (Text.)

(2874)

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That self-help is the best help is illustrated by the statements of a writer in Health, who says of the muscles:

It is dangerous to assist any muscle of the body. The more a muscle is assisted, the weaker it gets and the less it responds to the motor nerves. If any part of the body is deformed or has become weakened as the result of certain muscles failing to perform their duty, the muscles should be strengthened, not helped. If the abdomen protrudes as the result of the abdominal muscles having become weak, do not support the abdomen with a bandage, thus making the abdominal muscles still weaker. Strengthen the abdominal muscles, thus making a natural bandage. The same is true in reference to other braces and bandages. Never help a muscle, for you only weaken it. Exercise the muscle; it will then help itself.

(2875)

SELF-HIDDEN

One way to win success in work and war is to subordinate self to the service, as the following lines suggest:

He held the lamp of truth that day

So low that none could miss the way;

And yet so high to bring in sight

That picture fair—the world’s great Light;

That, gazing up—the lamp between—

The hand that held it scarce was seen.

He held the pitcher, stooping low

To lips of little ones below;

Then raised it to the weary saint,

And bade him drink, when sick and faint!

They drank—the pitcher thus between—

The hand that held it scarce was seen.

He blew the trumpet soft and clear,

That trembling sinners need not fear;

And then with louder note and bold,

To raze the walls of Satan’s hold!

The trumpet coming thus between,

The hand that held it scarce was seen.

But when the Captain says, “Well done,

Thou good and faithful servant—come!

Lay down the pitcher and the lamp

Lay down the trumpet—leave the camp,”

The weary hands will then be seen,

Clasped in those pierced ones—naught between.(Text.)

(2876)

Self-improvement—See [Mutualism].

Self-injury—See [Suicide Prevented].

SELF-INSPECTION

John Wesley drew up at Oxford for himself and his companions a scheme of self-examination which Southey declares, with some truth, might well be appended to the spiritual exercises of Ignatius Loyola. Here are samples: “Have I been simple and recollected everything I did?” And under this head is a swarm of microscopic tests of “sincerity” which the soul was to apply to itself. “Have I prayed with fervor?” Then follows a list of the times in each day at which prayer must be offered, and a series of tests for ascertaining the exact degree of fervor in each prayer—tests which irresistibly suggest a spiritual thermometer, with a graduated scale to register the rise of the mercury. Wesley adopted the practise his mother urged of asking, “Have I, in private prayer, frequently stopt short and observed what fervor in devotion?” That is, the anxious soul was to keep one eye directed to the object of prayer, and the other vigilantly fixt upon itself, so as to observe its own behavior.—W. H. Fitchett, “Wesley and His Century.”

(2877)

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A traveler, reaching a mining camp unexpectedly, found the miners very rough in manners and appearance owing to their long absence from conventional life. On leaving the camp for a farther journey, the traveler handed one of the leaders a looking-glass. A glance at it amazed the man, and soon all the other miners were crowding round him for a sight of themselves. Then the traveler departed, promising to return in a month. On his return he found an extraordinary change had taken place. The men, having realized by the mirror what uncouth, unshaven fellows they had become, had reformed as regards their appearance and were now as smart and clean as ordinary civilized beings. It was a sight of themselves which had worked the change.

(2878)

SELF-LIMITATIONS

“Lakeview; why, I should have thought they would call it Seaview!” exclaimed the island tourist, standing on the brow of the hill.

“But they don’t see the sea from the house. The top of the hills shuts it out. You only see the lake.”

“I think I would have climbed a little higher and built where I could have seen the sea.”

How many people are content to take up their abode on the lakeview side of the hill, instead of climbing to the summit and getting the vision of the great sea! (Text.)

(2879)

SELF-MASTERY

It is related that an eminent scientist, with his wife and brother, were sailing one moonlight evening on Lake Geneva. It became necessary to climb the mast to adjust a rope, when the boat capsized, and in a moment all three were struggling in the water. The lady, who was an extremely cultivated woman, coolly called to her companions, “I will not take hold of you, but come to me and let me put my hands upon your shoulders.” Which they did, and she was buoyed up for half an hour until all were saved. It was her mastery of herself that made it possible for them to rescue her.—James T. White, “Character Lessons.”

(2880)

Self-mastery Gradual—See [Endeavor, Constant].

SELF-MEASUREMENT

The story of the young man in fiction has traveled all this strange distance. It begins with the primitive bard, straining his voice and almost breaking his lyre in order to utter the greatness of youth and the greatness of masculinity; it ends with the novelist looking at both of them with a magnifying-glass; it begins with a delight in things above, and ends with a delight in things below us. I for one have little doubt about their relative value. For if a man can say, “I like to find something greater than myself,” he may be a fool or a madman, but he has the essential. But if a man says, “I like to find something smaller than myself,” there is only one adequate answer, “You couldn’t.” (Text.)—G. K. Chesterton, The Critic.

(2881)

Self-possession—See [Common Sense]; [Nerve].

Self-realization—See [Myself].

SELF-RELIANCE

Beecher said that once, at school, when he was demonstrating a problem in geometry, the master said, “No,” in a tone of absolute conviction, and he sat down in great confusion and dismay. The next boy was stopt with the same emphatic “No”; but the boy went right on, and completed the demonstration. Beecher said to the master, “I recited just as he did, and you said ‘No.’” The master replied, “Why didn’t you say ‘Yes,’ and stick to it? It is not enough to know your lesson, you must know that you know it.” You have learned nothing until you are sure. If all the world says “No,” your business is to say “Yes,” and persist in it.—James T. White, “Character Lessons.”

(2882)

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Imitate the Flathead Indians, and fling the child into the stream and make him swim. If Flathead Indians do this, straight-browed white men should know enough to imitate them. Bring your children up to believe that God cares for them, but that they must be self-reliant, and care for themselves. The fishes’ fin fits the water, the birds’ wing the air, the eye fits the sunbeam, the ear matches music, the intellect fits the truth and man’s equipment for self-support fits the harvests, the fields and the forests.—N. D. Hillis.

(2883)

See [Education]; [Initiative].

SELF-REPRESSION

When Havelock was prosecuting his great march for the relief of Lucknow, Sir James Outram was sent out to supersede him. Poor Havelock, tho filled with bitter disappointment, was ready to obey; but when Outram discovered what marvelous feats the unyielding courage and determination of Havelock and his brave men had accomplished, he refused to take the glory which belonged to another, and insisted upon his brother officer finishing the work and earning his glory, while he himself served under him. So by requiring self-repression, courtesy may become a positive virtue.—James T. White, “Character Lessons.”

(2884)

See [Power in Self-repression].

SELF-RESTRAINT

In the face of a fire peril which would have stricken an ordinary crowd with panic, 600 convicts recently, at the Western Penitentiary, sat quietly through their Sunday afternoon service, with hardly more than a ripple of fear. There was good cause for alarm in a fire in the hosiery factory, not fifty feet away from the chapel, and its smoke enveloped the windows so thickly that electric lights were turned on while Chaplain C. Miller continued the exercises.

Warden Francies himself was in the chapel when the fire broke out. He selected half a dozen “trusties” to help the prison and city fire departments fight the blaze, and then returned to quiet his charges. Fully half of the 600 had looked like stampede, but at a word from Chaplain Miller they recovered composure, reseated themselves, and listened attentively to the sermon. As the flames grew more threatening a second ripple of excitement started, but the choir stayed it by singing many hymns, in which the convicts joined.

The fire was fought for more than an hour, many of the “trusties” doing the most valiant work. Several were overcome by smoke.

After the fire Warden Francies paid many compliments to his charges for the self-restraint they had shown.

“No body of United States troops,” he said, “could have acquitted themselves better under such trying circumstances.”—New Orleans Picayune.

(2885)

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About three weeks after the capture of Fort Donelson slanders and misrepresentations sent to Washington resulted in removing General Grant from his command. Colonel Nicholas Smith, in “Grant the Man of Mystery,” tells how Grant behaved under this unjust treatment. Grant said:

When I was ordered to remain behind it was the cause of much astonishment among the troops of my command, and also disappointment. I never allowed a word of contradiction to go out from my headquarters. You need not fear but what I shall come out triumphantly. I am pulling no wires, as political generals do, to advance myself. I have no future ambition. My object is to carry on my part of this war successfully, and I am perfectly willing that others may make all the glory they can out of it.

(2886)

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When you read this to your uncle he may say, “If General Grant had been provoked as I often am, I think he would have sworn.” Just tell uncle this story and ask him if General Grant did not have some reason now and then to have a provoke:

“After he had served the nation as its President, General Grant was in New York when the Masonic Temple was burned. The fireline was drawn half way down the block, but the great, surging crowds hampered the work. A policeman stationed below failed to recognize the ex-President as he approached the line, and quickly grabbing him by the collar, he swung him around in the other direction, yelling at him as he gave him a whack with his club: ‘Here, what’s the matter with you? Don’t you see the fireline? Chase yourself out of here, and be quick about it.’”

The general did not swear, but just got out of the crowd and began to attend to his own business. Swearing would have been a great waste of time.—J. M. Farrar.

(2887)

See [Provocation, Silence Under].

SELF-REVELATION

Some time ago one of the magistrates at Clerkenwell hit on a new idea in dealing with a prisoner, who came before him on a charge of being drunk and incapable. The man’s face was terribly bruised, either from tumbling about while drunk, or fighting. The case having been proved, the magistrate inquired of the chief jailer for a looking-glass. One having been produced, the jailer was ordered to take the prisoner and show him his face in the glass, and then to liberate him; the magistrate remarking that if that exhibition was not a warning to him, he did not know what would be. The prisoner was accordingly shown the reflection of his disfigured face, and discharged.

There was sound philosophy in the novel method of the magistrate, it was good and true as far as it went; but it may well be doubted if the generous device effected any very considerable reformation in the prisoner.—W. L. Watkinson, “The Transfigured Sackcloth.”

(2888)

SELF-SACRIFICE

Dr. Finsen, who discovered the “light cure” for the disease of lupus, was greatly tempted to keep his secret to himself and thus become a very rich man. He lay awake all one night, perturbed as to whether he would make public his discovery. When morning came, Dr. Finsen had “chosen the better part,” and had decided to enrich the world with his cure. Only $1,500 a year was paid him by the Government of Denmark, and gradually the awful disease from which he himself was a sufferer made it impossible for him to work more than an hour a day and to eat hardly anything. Literally, Dr. Finsen laid down his life for the army of fellow sufferers. Queen Alexandra, proud of her fellow countryman, introduced the cure which bears his name to the greatest hospital in the world, and Finsen’s discovery has alleviated the torture of countless invalids. (Text.)

(2889)

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Equally famous with the man in the moon and the woman in the moon is the hare in the moon, says Garrett P. Serviss in his “Astronomy with the Naked Eye.” The original is a Buddhist legend. The god Sakkria, disguised as a Brahman, pretended to be starving and went to the animals for help. The monkey got him a bunch of mangoes; the coot picked up a fisherman’s neglected string for him; the fox stole him a pot of milk. At last the god approached the hare. “I have nothing but grass,” said the hare, “and you can’t eat that.” “But your flesh is good,” suggested the pretended Brahman. The hare assented. “Then,” said the Brahman, “I’ll kindle a fire at the foot of this rock, and you jump off into it. That’ll save me the trouble of killing you.” The hare assented again, but as he leaped from the rock the god caught him in his arms and then drew his figure in the moon as a perpetual reminder of the excellence of self-sacrifice. (Text.)

(2890)

See [Goodness in the Bad]; [Poverty, Christian].

SELF-SACRIFICE IN NATURE

The last word of science harmonizes with the first word of the gospel; the doctrine of sacrifice has been scorned in many quarters as being unscientific. Such a disparagement is no longer countenanced by scientists, for they now point to the principle of utter abnegation of self as one of the most potent of natural laws. We are told that one portion of a flower is sacrificed for the sake of the flower as a whole. The rose multiplies its petals, but the blossom that is thus beautified never comes to seed. The flower dies in its new beauty, but a more glorious stock has thus been produced. So it is also with insect life. The bee toils night and day for weeks without sleep or rest, wearing itself out. Its life has nothing to do with its own pleasure, but is entirely surrendered for the good of the community. So science has furnished unexpected sanctions to the doctrine of sacrifice.

(2891)

SELF-SUPPRESSION

When we ask what it is that has made Boswell’s book a great classic, we are bound to concede to Boswell himself the credit of having inaugurated a new style of biography, conceived with the true originality, and carried out with conspicuous success. Toady, sycophant, braggart, eavesdropper—all these and more Boswell may have been, but he had one great gift, the faculty of recognizing greatness, and of suppressing himself in the presence of greatness.—W. J. Dawson, “The Makers of English Prose.”

(2892)

SELF-SURRENDER

The caddis-fly leaves his tube behind and soars into upper air; the creature abandons its barnacle existence on the rock and swims at large in the sea. For it is just when we die to custom that, for the first time, we rise into the true life of humanity; it is just when we abandon all prejudice of our own superiority over others, and become convinced of our entire indefensibleness, that the world opens out with comrade faces in all directions.—Fortnightly Review.

(2893)

Selfish, The, Rejected—See [Social Religion].

SELFISHNESS

The boy in this anecdote had apparently not been taught that it is better to give than to receive:

“Well, Bobby, how do you like church?” asked his father, as they walked homeward from the sanctuary, to which Bobby had just paid his first visit.

“It’s fine!” ejaculated the young man. “How much did you get, father?”

“How much did I get? Why, what do you mean? How much what?” asked the astonished parent at this evident irreverence.

“Why, don’t you remember when the funny old man passed the money around? I only got ten cents.” (Text.)—Lippincott’s Magazine.

(2894)

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Said Romola to Tito’s child, after calamity had overtaken him:

There was a man to whom I was very near, so that I could see a great deal of his life, who made almost every one fond of him, for he was young and clever and beautiful and his manners to all were gentle and kind. I believe, when I first met him, he never thought of anything cruel or base. But because he tried to slip away from everything that was unpleasant, and cared for nothing else so much as his own safety, he came at last to commit some of the basest deeds—such as make men infamous. He denied his father and left him to misery; he betrayed every trust that was reposed in him, that he might keep himself safe and get rich and prosperous.

That is the history of a man given over to his own selfishness.

(2895)

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The Moslem mollah is notoriously reluctant to give anything away. A mollah had fallen into a large pool of water and was struggling for his life to reach the bank. “Give me your hand, oh my lord, and I will pull you out,” said a passer-by who had responded to the lusty cries for help. “No, indeed,” replied the mollah; “I have never yet given anything to any one, and I certainly will not begin now.” Not liking to leave the drowning man, his would-be rescuer, responding to a bright idea that occurred to him, said, “Will you take my hand, then, oh my lord?” “Gladly,” answered the mollah, and allowed himself to be drawn out of the pool, saving his life without losing his innate selfishness.

(2896)

SELFISHNESS AND UNSELFISHNESS

There was a stream gliding blithely and care free down a mountain-side in its course to the ocean. On the way it passed a stagnant pool, which asked whither it was going. The stream answered that it went to contribute its cup of water to the vast ocean. “Wait!” said the pool. “Why give up all your substance to the ocean, which has no need of it? Follow my example, and hold on tight to what you have. Soon the hot season will be around and the glaring sun will shrivel you up.” But the stream’s unselfishness forbade such a course, and it flowed merrily onward, while the pool gathered itself more closely together and settled down in its position of selfish ease and comfort. Presently the hot season came, and the sun scorched everything beneath its blazing heat. But the little stream flowed securely beneath an archway of overhanging trees, the leaves and branches of which made it immune from dangers and obstructions. And the sun peeped through the leaves and smiled upon it, saying that it could not harm such an unoffending thing. And the birds came to sip of its refreshing waters, while the sweet flowers bloomed along its side. The farmer in the field looked kindly upon it, the cows came to drink of it, and the stream pursued its way happily, blessing everything and being blest. But not so with the pool. The sun glared down on it, drying it up and making it repugnant and stagnant. And the breezes, kissing it by mistake, carried the unhealthy stench over the land, introducing malaria wherever it went. Everything shunned and avoided it, and because of its selfishness it was transformed into a murky, vile puddle, reeking with hurtful germs. But the stream emptied its water into the ocean, from which it was borne aloft into the clouds and carried back to the mountain summit whence it came, there to begin again its joyous course.—S. G. Weiscotton.

(2897)

SELFISHNESS BROUGHT OUT

The common council of Trenton, N. J., has passed an ordinance providing that all street-car passengers that can not get a seat need not pay their fares. The reason is, of course, that the company does not provide nearly enough accommodation for the public. Probably there is not a city in the United States where this condition does not exist. The profits of the street-car companies are largely augmented by patient strap-hangers. But, as to Trenton, the effect of this ordinance has been extraordinary.

Passengers that were consumed with ill-nature when they had to stand on a crowded car now let empty cars swish past them and patiently wait on the street corner until a full one comes along, on which they may ride free.

The ordinance has also exterminated the car boor. When a lady steps inside all the men in the car spring to their feet and offer her their seats. The conductor has to refund the fare of the man that loses his seat in this way. The amusing part of the situation, however, is that very often the lady wishes to stand herself, especially if she is economical.

The whole plan smacks of exasperation. The only good point about it is the fact that the council feels that something ought to be done to force a public-service company to serve the public. Some cities have tried the plan of a lower fare for the man that has to stand, which undoubtedly is the better plan.—Ripple, Christian Endeavor World.

(2898)

Selfishness, Getting Rid of—See [Eternal Life, Making Room for].

SELFISHNESS REBUKED

A hard bargainer sent the following advertisement to a paper: “A lady in delicate health wishes to meet with a useful companion. She must be domestic, musical, an early riser, amiable, of good appearance, and have some experience in nursing. A total abstainer preferred. Comfortable home. No salary.” A few days afterward the advertiser received by express a basket, labeled, “This side up, with care; perishable.” On opening it, she found a tabby cat with a letter tied to its tail. It ran thus:

“Madam, in response to your advertisement, I am happy to furnish you with a very useful companion, which you will find exactly suited to your requirements. She is domestic, a good vocalist, an early riser, possesses an amiable disposition, and is considered handsome. She has had great experience as a nurse, having brought up a large family. I need scarcely add that she is a total abstainer. As salary is no object to her, she will serve you faithfully in return for a comfortable home.” (Text.)

(2899)

SELFNESS

Our life not being an emanation from God, but a personal self-containing product of his power, we are not born to a perception of truth which floods our capacities as soon as they are opened, as the tides of a sea pour up each inlet that is scooped out to receive them; we do not receive pleasure, and utter it mechanically, as the pipes of the organ pour out without partaking the harmonies that breathe through them. But we, each one of us, as our life is unfolded, separate from all others, radically discriminated in its vital unity from that of every other, must set up for ourselves on the theater of the universe.—Richard S. Storrs.

(2900)

Sense Impressions—See [Pictures, Influence of].

Senses, Limited—See [Limitation of the Senses].

Senses, The, as Indicators of Men—See [Characteristic Traits].

SENSITIVENESS

The sensitive plant, that shrinks from the touch, is rightly regarded as occupying a high place in the vegetable world. When its delicate leaves are seen drooping from contact with the finger, we might fancy it gifted with a sort of consciousness, by which it can not only feel and perhaps suffer, but also visibly attempt to withdraw from suffering. It is an interesting object to notice, whatever may be our speculations in regard to it, and we naturally have strong interest in a plant so curiously endowed. Some men and women in our most civilized communities seem to be very much akin to this little shrub. Their one distinguishing characteristic is sensitiveness. They are easily hurt, easily irritated, easily offended. They translate every touch, however innocent or even friendly, into an intent to trouble or annoy them. They are constantly fancying slights, suspecting insults, imagining ridicule, dreading censure.—Public Ledger.

(2901)

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Moral shocks are communicated to the whole world as certainly as earth tremors to the whole earth. No man can do a wrong deed or a right one without affecting every other man.

That the earth is extremely sensitive even to the slightest shocks, contractions, or alterations is shown by the tremendous rapidity with which the indications of these are transmitted to various parts of the globe. A few minutes after the first shock was felt in San Francisco the seismographic instruments at Washington recorded the tremor. (Text.)

(2902)

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A most remarkable example of a peculiar sensitiveness has been observed in certain moths of the family Bombyces—notably the Oak Eggar, the Emperor, and the Kentish Glory. Take a newly emerged female of either of these species, shut her up in a small box, conceal the box in your pocket, and then walk about in some country spot known to you as being one of the haunts of that species of moth. Then, if any of the males of the same species happen to be in the neighborhood, they will settle or hover about close to the female which, altho still concealed and quite out of their reach, has attracted them to the spot.—W. Furneaux, “Butterflies and Moths.”

(2903)

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“An Apology for My Twilight Rambles” was the original title of the tender hymn: “I love to steal away a while,” by Phebe Hinsdale Brown. The story in a word is this: Phebe was left an orphan in her Canaan home (New York), and fell under the cruel care of a relative who caused her to grow up timid and retiring to a painful degree. Marrying Timothy H. Brown, she made her home for some time in Ellington, Conn., caring for a growing family. At sunset, one day, she stole away from her cares for a little relief and for communion with God, in a rich neighbor’s flower garden, which, indeed, was her favorite resort. Her trespass was reported to the mistress of the house, who accosted her with: “If you want anything, why don’t you come in?” meaning, “Get out!” Next day, with a wounded spirit and filled with tears, holding her baby to her bosom, she wrote the lines above, nine stanzas in all, and sent them to the feminine churl who was so little of a neighbor and belied the odor of the flowers that blest her garden. (Text.)

(2904)

Sensitiveness to Pain—See [Pain in Animals].

SENTIMENT, MIXED

In a home designed to get men and boys on their feet and become independent and self-supporting, there was found in the pocket of one of the boys the following poem:

I sometimes think it hardly fair

That I am here, while you are there.

Still I am perfectly aware

You might come here or I go there.

And I would just as soon be there

Or here; or have you here or there

So I suppose I scarcely care;

In fact, its neither here or there.

(2905)

SENTIMENT, USELESS

A gentleman was one day relating to a Quaker a tale of deep distress, and concluded very pathetically by saying, “I could not but feel for him.” “Verily, friend,” replied the Quaker, “thou didst right in that thou didst feel for thy neighbor, but didst thou feel in the right place—didst thou feel in thy pocket?” (Text.)

(2906)

Sentiment versus Sentimentalism—See [Feelings, Reserved].

Sentiments of a Dying Soldier—See [Essentials].

SEPARATION

The South Sea islanders have a singular tradition to account for the existence of the dew. The legend relates that in the beginning the earth touched the sky, that being the golden age when all was beautiful and glad; then some dreadful tragedy occurred, the primal unity was broken up, the earth and the sky were torn asunder as we see them now, and the dew-drops of the morning are the tears that nature sheds over the sad divorce. (Text.)

(2907)

Seraphim—See [Love Rather than Knowledge].

SERENITY IN LIFE

Oh, heart of mine, we shouldn’t

Worry so!

What we’ve missed of calm we couldn’t

Have, you know!

What we’ve met of stormy pain

We can better meet again,

If it blow.

For we know not every morrow

Can be sad;

So, forgetting all the sorrow

We have had,

Let us fold away our fears,

And through all the coming years

Just be glad. (Text.)

(2908)

SERMON, A BRIEF

The longest sermon on record was preached by the Rev. Isaac Barrow, a Puritan preacher of the seventeenth century, who once delivered a sermon in Westminster Abbey lasting three hours and a half; and the shortest sermon ever preached was perhaps the sermon which Doctor Whewell was fond of repeating from the text, “Man is born unto trouble as the sparks fly upward.”

The sermon occupied barely a minute in delivery, the following being a verbatim report:

I shall divide the discourse into three heads: (1) Man’s ingress into the world; (2) His progress through the world; (3) His egress out of the world.

Firstly, his ingress into the world is naked and bare.

Secondly, his progress through the world is trouble and care.

Thirdly, his egress out of the world is nobody knows where.

To conclude:

If we live well here, we shall live well there.

I can tell you no more if I preach a year. Then he gave the benediction.

(2909)

Sermon, Eccentric—See [Grace Sufficient].

SERMON HEADS

Preaching a trial sermon in presence of an audience of only two persons must in any case be a trial to one’s nerves, but especially so when the two happen to be the Archbishop of Canterbury (Dr. Tait) and Dean Stanley. We read of such an unfortunate young “candidate for priest’s orders” so preaching in that rather awful presence. In his confusion he stammered out, as he began, “I will divide my congregation into two—the converted and the unconverted.” Dr. Tait interrupted him with: “I think sir, as there are only two of us, you had better say which is which.”—Chicago Standard.

(2910)

SERMON, SAVING A

When pastor of Park Avenue Church, Brooklyn, New York, I was preaching one Sunday morning to a languid audience, for it was a hot, sultry day in summer. The windows were all open for ventilation, but scarcely a breath of air was felt. The atmosphere was oppressive, and the service dragged. When about half way through my sermon, a sparrow flew through one of the open windows, and startled the drowsy audience by flying round the church, at times threatening to light on one or other of the ladies’ bonnets. At length it lighted on the communion-rail, directly in front of the pulpit and in full view of the audience, and there settled down quietly. All eyes were intent upon it. My discourse had been rudely interrupted, but as if by inspiration I was seized with the thought to change my theme, speak of God’s care for His children, and use the little bird as an object-lesson. This I did, quoting the Savior’s words in Matthew 6:26: “Behold the fowls of the air: for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feedeth them. Are ye not much better than they?” The audience was intensely interested, every mind was alert, every soul thirsty for the comforting truth. The little creature remained perfectly quiet, and seemed as interested as any of the rest of us. Just before I closed he flew out of one of the windows, having left a message of hope and comfort to tired hearts. I have felt a warmer place in my heart ever since for “God’s sparrows.”—Elijah Humphries, Our Dumb Animals.

(2911)

Sermon, The Effect of a—See [Creature, A New].

Sermon versus Salmon—See [Preaching, Responsibility in].

Sermons in Candles—See [Illustrations from Candles].

SERVICE

Service is labor baptized and anointed, and consecrated to high ends.

William Carey, cobbling shoes in that dingy little room in Leicester, tho he was never a skilful workman, yet cobbling them as best he could, putting in honest leather and sound pegs and strong stitches, and consecrating the toil to the service of God’s kingdom, was as truly in the Father’s business as was Dr. William Carey, the distinguished Oriental scholar, when translating languages, preaching the gospel, and baptizing converts in India. That little workshop, with its hammers and awls and scraps of leather, represented a department of the heavenly Father’s business. (Text.)

(2912)

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Dr. Grenfell, whose devoted labors among deep-sea fishermen are known and appreciated on both sides of the Atlantic, was converted at a mission conducted in England by D. L. Moody. Meeting the evangelist many years afterward, Dr. Grenfell recalled the circumstance. Immediately Mr. Moody asked Dr. Grenfell, “And what have you been doing since?” Christians must not live on their past experiences. “What have you been doing since?” will be the Master’s question.

(2913)

Jesus washed the disciples’ feet. A similar spirit was manifested by H. B. Gibbud with excellent results, as told by him in this extract:

I was going from cell to cell among the prisoners, when one man called me back, and asked if I remembered him. I did not.

“Well,” said he, “I remember you. You got me out of the ‘dives’ in Mulberry Bend in New York City about twelve years ago, took me to the Florence Mission, and gave me a note to the Home of Intemperate Men. Do you remember?”

I was unable to place him, as I had done a similar act for quite a number.

“You will remember me, I think, when I tell you the circumstances. I was nearly naked; you got some clothes for me. I was shivering with delirium tremens, and could not dress myself, so you drest me. Now you remember me, don’t you?”

I was still unable to recollect him.

“Well, there is one thing more, and that is what broke me up. After you had drest me, you said, ‘You want to look nice, so I’ll black your boots’; and you did.

“Now I could not tell, to save my neck, what you said about Christ; I did not want to do better; I did not go to the home; all I wanted was what I could get out of you. But your blacking my boots—I have never been able to get away from that.”

“I did not want your religion, but to think that you cared enough about my soul to black my boots, that has followed me all these years, and when I have been drunk and stupid that thing would haunt me. I have thought of it hundreds of times, and now I thank God has brought me here to meet you again, and I want you to pray for me.” (Text.)

(2914)

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The whole material universe is ever compulsorily engaged in mutual service. The spheres wait on earth, air, sun, clouds, and sky. But the spiritual universe has for its grace and its glory the principle of service consciously rendered by love and sacrifice.

Two ragged street urchins stood one day before the window of a picture store in London, and one cried out, “Look, Jim, look!” “What is it?” Jim asked, and the little fellow answered, “Why, there he is. That’s our earl.” It was the photograph of the Earl of Shaftesbury, in truth the earl of the poor and opprest. The motto of his family is “Love—Serve,” and nobly did he live up to his motto. At his funeral a laboring man was heard to say in a choking voice, “Our earl’s gone. God A’mighty knows he loved us. We sha’n’t see his likes again.” (Text.)

(2915)

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The flowers got into a debate one morning as to which of them was the flower of God, and the rose said: “I am the flower of God, for I am the fairest and the most perfect in beauty and variety of form and delicacy of fragrance of all the flowers.” And the crocus said: “No, you are not the flower of God. Why, I was blooming long before you bloomed. I am the primitive flower; I am the first one.” And the lily of the valley said modestly: “I am small, but I am white; perhaps I am the flower of God.” And the trailing arbutus said: “Before any of you came forth I was blooming under the leaves and under the snow. Am I not the flower of God?” And all the flowers cried out: “No, you are no flower at all; you are a come-outer.” And then God’s wind, blowing on the garden, brought this message to them: “Little flowers, do you not know that every flower that answers God’s spring call, and comes out of the cold, dark earth, and lifts its head above the sod and blooms forth, catching the sunlight from God and flinging it back to men, taking the sweet south wind from God and giving it back to others in sweet and blest fragrance—do you not know they are all God’s flowers?”

(2916)

Service and Age—See [Age and Experience].

SERVICE AND SACRIFICE

An old Roman coin bore the design of an ox standing between a plow and an altar, thus signifying its readiness for either service or sacrifice. No symbol could more beautifully represent the attitude of the true servant of Christ—ready, while the Master wills, to bow the neck to the yoke and toil in his service; and just as ready when the call comes, to sacrifice everything, even life itself. (Text.)—Zion’s Herald.

(2917)

Service as Testimony—See [Witness of Service].

SERVICE, AUXILIARY

Many a humble parent or teacher might find comfort in the following pretty fable:

A taper lay in a drawer, when its owner took it and climbed a winding stair in a tower. “Where are you taking me?” asked the taper complainingly. “I am going to show big ships their way over the sea,” answered the owner. “Why, no ship could see me or my little light,” said the taper. “Leave that to me,” added the owner as he lighted the big lantern, and then blew the taper out.

(2918)

SERVICE, HUMBLE

Our service ought to be positive. Every day brings with it some chance to help. If your service can not be great, let it be small, only let it be service in some way for the good of another and for the glory of God. An old Scotch woman in Edinburgh was arrested as a suspicious character. She was seen furtively picking some things from the sidewalk and putting them beneath her shawl. On examination it was found that the articles were only little bits of glass. Questioned, she replied that she was only picking up the stray pieces of glass that they might not cut the bairnies’ feet.

Remember, there is glass to be taken from life’s highways; there are thorns to be uprooted and roses to be planted.—Joel B. Slocum.

(2919)

See [Earthen Vessel].

SERVICE, INTERESTED

Washington housekeepers are inclined to think that T. B. Witherspoon, of St. Louis, was romancing recently when he told of a negro servant who has been in his employ for fifteen years. It appears that the negro was given ten days’ leave and money to spend for a trip down to New Orleans, but in three days turned up again, and here is the way Mr. Witherspoon explains the negro’s return, quoting the servant:

“‘You see, suh, it done get mighty miserably cold night after I lef’ you, and I knows dat Miss Kate (my wife) ain’t got no business tryin’ to work dat furnace, and I know you ain’t gwine to bother with it. Nary one of you got enny business with a dirty old furnace, least of all Miss Kate, who ain’t got no right to soil her little han’s. I couldn’t sleep good thinkin’ about it, an’ dat’s why I gits back quicker’n I ’spected.’

“There is a specimen act of an old-time, true-hearted darky, whose first thought is of the comfort of his employer.”

(2920)

Service, Lowly—See [Example].

SERVICE, METHOD OF

When Jael served her yellow-hued dainty to Sisera in that fine dish, she set an example that is worthy of being followed in more ways than in that hospitable one. Milton in his noble thoughts set in his lofty style has served his “butter in a lordly dish.” A kindness or a benefaction dealt in a courteous spirit and in fine chivalry is equally “butter in a lordly dish.” Above all, a life lived in the exercise of a character that is sterling and pure gold—serving viands of soul in divinest thoughts and sublimest virtues and inspirations that gods might envy, is “butter in a lordly dish.” The substance of a deed is heightened in merit by its service when the mettle of the dish matches the quality of the meat.

(2921)

SERVICE, RELIGIOUS

If a child finds itself in want of anything, it runs in and asks its father for it—does it call that doing its father a service? If it begs for a toy or a piece of cake—does it call that serving its father? That, with God, is prayer, and He likes to hear it. He likes you to ask Him for cake when you want it; but He doesn’t call that “serving Him.” Begging is not serving; God likes mere beggars as little as you do; He likes honest servants, not beggars. So when a child loves its father very much, and is very happy, it may sing little songs about him; but it doesn’t call that serving its father; neither is singing songs about God, serving God. It is enjoying ourselves, if it’s anything; most probably it is nothing; but if it’s anything, it is serving ourselves, not God.—John Ruskin.

(2922)

Service Unnoticed-See [Results of Good Deeds].

SERVICE, UNSEEN

I heard of a young woman, a domestic in a home, who loved her Savior and whose heart He had filled with a love for her fellow men. Opportunities for service such as the world recognizes were few, but every night she was accustomed to gather the daily papers after they had been thrown aside. Taking these to her room she used to cut from them the list of death notices, and laying these before her she knelt and in prayer commended those in sorrow to the gracious help of her Father in heaven. She did not know them, but they were in sorrow, and in the only way she could she ministered to them. We are not judges, but I much mistake if in the eyes of Him who judges not as man judges, such service as that does not rank high up above the princely gifts that attract the attention of the world.—Robert Johnston.

(2923)

SERVICE WITH HARDSHIP

In a recent number of Forward the story is told of a young Chinese slave girl whose mistress brought her to the Presbyterian Mission Hospital at Canton. She was doomed to blindness and lameness, so her mistress abandoned her. The doctors amputated her leg and gave her little tasks to perform about the place and taught her about the heavenly Father and Savior. She developed leprosy and was forced to leave these friends whom she had learned to love, and go to the darkness and horror of a leper settlement. But she went a Christian, and in two years that blind, crippled leper built up a band of Christians in that leper settlement, and in five years a church grew out of her work. That poor crippled invalid life is to-day a center of joy and service, and other leper villages are sending to her to ask about the wonderful good news which can bring joy even to outcasts.

(2924)

Service, Wrong Conception of—See [Seeking Service].

SHADOW

In sylviculture the growth and fiber qualities of young conifers are artificially improved by shutting off the sunlight and leaving the trees in very dark places.

There are many virtues in human character that seem to develop more robustly and come to finer strength in the shadows of adversity.

(2925)

SHADOW AND SUNSHINE

A terrible shadow in Coleridge’s life was the apparent cause of most of his dejection. In early life he suffered from neuralgia, and to ease the pain began to use opiates. The result on such a temperament was almost inevitable. He became a slave to the drug habit; his naturally weak will lost all its directing and sustaining force, until, after fifteen years of pain and struggle and despair, he gave up and put himself in charge of a physician, one Mr. Gillman, of Highgate. Carlyle, who visited him at this time, calls him “a king of men,” but records that “he gave you the idea of a life that had been full of sufferings, a life heavy-laden, half-vanquished, still swimming painfully in seas of manifold physical and other bewilderment.”—William J. Long, “English Literature.”

(2926)

Shadow of a Great Life—See [Living in the Shadow].

SHADOWS

We are made sure that the sun shines not necessarily by seeing it, but often by noting the shadows it casts.

So the presence of God in our lives may often be indicated by the shadows of sorrow and trial.

(2927)

SHAKING-UP

Many a man will confess that a sound thrashing at the hands of some other lad in the days of his youth was the beginning of his moral development; that, after the ache was over, it set him to thinking. Nature abhors monotony almost as much as a vacuum, and seems to have provided that at various times a general shaking up is necessary to maintain the proper standard.—James M. Stifler, “The Fighting Saint.”

(2928)

SHAME

If our deeds were all to be put on a canvas for men to see, should we be as much ashamed of some as them, as the man in this anecdote?

There was once a rich landlord who cruelly opprest a poor widow. Her son, then a little boy of eight years, witnessed it. He became a great painter, and painted a likeness of the dark scene. Years afterward he placed it where the cruel man saw it. He recognized himself in the shameful picture, turned pale, trembled in every joint, and offered a large sum to purchase it that he might put it out of sight. (Text.)—Louis Albert Banks.

(2929)

SHAMS

Christianity, like its Founder, is the enemy of all false pretense. Jesus’s denunciations were severest against hypocrites:

The amount of pain and discomfort which malingerers are willing to endure to obtain their discharge is almost incredible, but the facts are well attested. A limb has been held in a fixt position for many months and not even the application of the actual cautery has sufficed to move it. Many men have chopped off some fingers and have claimed that it was an accident. Mental derangement of one sort or another is a favorite form of malingery, but the results usually resemble the popular or stage idea of insanity rather than the true products of mental alienation.

The threat of the application of the actual cautery has cured paralysis, but cases have been recorded where malingerers have endured the cautery on several occasions. A man who simulated blindness was placed on the edge of a jetty and told to walk straight forward. He stept out and fell into the water, for he knew that those who were testing him dared not let him drown. In another case, however, a man who seemed to have paralysis of an arm allowed the amputating knife to be placed to it without flinching, but when thrown into the river he struck out with both arms and swam. (Text.)

(2930)

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Musical connoisseurs often express disappointment at the sound of some imposing-looking organ. The instrument with the great dimensions of its outer frame and the gorgeous show of its great gilded pipes in front would give the impression of great power. But those pipes, instead of being of hollow and sonorous metal, are solid pieces of wood. They are decorated dummies, incapable of giving forth a single sound. The musical pipes in such an instrument are hidden from view but they alone are of service.

In the world we must expect shams of character and ostentations, impositions, but in the Church of God there should be no such thing as “folly that is set in great dignity.” (Text.)

(2931)

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Examination of the premises occupied by a Los Angeles private bank, lately closed for lack of funds, showed that the supposed vault was a big door without any opening behind it. The door was of steel, with plate-glass knobs, shiny combination dials and all the features of an imposing safe protecting quantities of money. Just how such a sham affair could be put in without becoming a matter of comment is hard to see. Or do workmen set such doors often enough not to be surprized by them? (Text.)

(2932)

Sharing Blessings—See [Responsibility].

SHELTER

He was only a butterfly, one of those beautiful, large, bluish-black ones that we so often see about the garden, but he knew enough to get in out of the wet.

It was during one of the heavy showers that so frequently, in the hot days of midsummer, come suddenly upon us, driving every one to the nearest cover. To escape the downpour, which meant great injury, if not destruction, to so delicate a creature, he quickly flew to a near-by Balm of Gilead tree, where, alighting on the under side of a large leaf, he clung with wings closely drawn together and hanging straight downward, using the big leaf as an umbrella to shield him from the great drops falling all around. High and dry, here he remained until the shower had passed, and the blue sky and warm sun called him once again to his favorite haunts.—St. Nicholas.

(2933)

See [Compensation].

SHEPHERD, THE GOOD

A gentleman traveling in the lonely part of the highlands of Scotland was attracted by the bleating of a ewe, as the animal came from the roadside, as if to meet him. When nearer she redoubled her cries and looked up into his face as if to ask for assistance. He alighted from his gig and followed her to a considerable distance from the road, where he found a lamb completely wedged in betwixt two large stones, and struggling with its legs uppermost. He took out the sufferer and placed it on the green sward, when the mother, seemingly overjoyed, poured forth her thanks in a long-continued bleat.

The good Shepherd giveth His life for His sheep. He rejoices more at the safety of the lost sheep than over the ninety and nine that were safe in the fold. (Text.)

(2934)

Shining—See [Lives that Shine].

SHINING AS LAMPS

The British Weekly prints this:

His lamps are we,

To shine where He shall say,

And lamps are not for sunny rooms,

Not for the light of day,

But for the dark places of the earth,

Where shame and wrong and crime have birth;

Or for the murky twilight gray,

Where wandering sheep have gone astray;

Or where the light of faith grows dim,

And souls are groping after Him.

And as sometimes a flame we find,

Clear shining through the night—

So bright we do not see the lamp,

But only see the light,

So we may shine—His light the flame,

That men may glorify His name.

(2935)

Shining Wherever You Are—See [Lives That Shine].

Ships, Watching the—See [Cheer, Signals of].

SHORING UP

When building a house it is common for the carpenters to insert timbers under the ground-sills pending the time when the stone foundations can conveniently be placed.

Similarly we may employ expedients in character-building. Children may not be ready as yet to grasp principles of conduct; but meanwhile we give them rules, detail commands, and minute precepts; these serve to “shore up” the life while the principles are being formed.

(2936)

SHRINKAGE

If a man tries to live on his own moral resources, without new supplies of divine grace, he will experience a shrinkage of character like that of the sun, as described in this extract:

The sun is gradually falling into itself, the outer layers are falling toward the center; the sun is shrinking, growing smaller; and this contraction, this falling in of the outer particles, produces the immense outflow of energy. The whole sun contracts, every particle of its whole mass falls toward the center and contributes its mite to the total supply of heat. The surface particles move, of course, through a much greater distance than do those within the sphere. On account of the tremendous mass of the sun a very slight contraction will suffice to maintain its supply of heat. A shrinkage in the solar diameter of some 300 feet a year is all that is necessary to account for the great outpour of energy.—Charles Lane Poor, “The Solar System.”

(2937)

“SHUT-IN” MISSIONARY WORK

In 1891, Miss Mary Ashton, a “shut-in,” zealous for the spreading of the gospel in foreign lands, and desirous to do her share, began the sale of ribbon bookmarks and leaflets on which were printed Scripture texts and choice poems. With a few helpers, the sales and her income increased from year to year, so that, at her death in 1899, she was supporting a Bible woman in China, another in India, and four missionaries in those countries.

After her death, Miss Theodosia Haine, of Warren, O., also a member of the “Shut-in” Society, volunteered to undertake Miss Ashton’s work. This she is successfully doing and much literature is being disseminated through her efforts. The profits resulting from the sale of Miss Haine’s work go to the Mary Ashton Fund of the Woman’s Foreign Missionary Society of the Methodist Episcopal Church.—Record of Christian Work.

(2938)

SICK, MIRROR AN AID TO THE

The looking-glass, whether a plus or a minus quantity, plays a more important part in the sick-room than most nurses and physicians give it credit for.

“All things considered, I think it a good plan to give a sick person a chance to look at himself occasionally,” said a prominent doctor, recently. “Of course, the indulgence must be granted with discretion. If a patient is really looking seedy, a turn at the looking-glass is equivalent to signing his death warrant; but if taken at a time when braced up by some stimulant or a natural ebullition of vital force, a few minutes of communion with his own visage beats any tonic I can prescribe. It thrills the patient with new hope. It makes him feel that he isn’t quite so far gone as he had thought, and that possibly a fight for life is, after all, worth while. Being thus sensitive, a persistent withholding of a mirror convinces the patient that he must be too horrible for contemplation, and he promptly decides that the best thing for him to do is to give up the ghost and get out of the way.

“That is one of the mistakes hospitals were apt to make up to a few years ago. When I was a young fellow, getting my first practise after graduation, I served on the staff of several hospitals, and in all, especially in the free wards, those aids to vanity were strictly forbidden.”—Cleveland Plain-Dealer.

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Sick-room, Atmosphere of the—See [Talking and Sickness].

SIDE, CHOOSING THE RIGHT

Not many years ago I was asked to go to a Georgia county and speak, and when I got there some saloon-keepers came in and stood up by the wall on one side of me, their object being to intimidate me. I said, “Neighbors, you have sent for me to come and speak to you on the whisky issue. I am no orator; I am no Brutus. I am not going to tell you which side of this question I am on, but you just step up to God and ask which side He is on; go to Christ and put me down on His side. Go out there to the graveyard, and take up that mother who has buried her husband and sons in drunkards’ graves, and ask her which side she is on—and then put me down on her side. Put me down on the side of God and Christ, and the women and children of this land.”

The leading saloon man in the crowd wiped the tears from his eyes. He had just buried a sweet wife and child, and he walked out and said, “Boys, I’m done; I throw up the sponge.” The next election in that county the prohibition element carried the day by five hundred majority.—Sam P. Jones.

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SIGHT, IMPERFECT

A rich man, of very miserly character, was found to be suffering from cataract in both eyes. Blindness ensued, and he was at last compelled to consult a famous oculist. He was appalled by the costly fee which was required for an operation, but reluctantly assented to an operation on one eye. This restored his sight in one eye, and the oculist advised a similar operation on the other. “Oh, no,” said the miser; “it’s far too expensive. I will manage with the sight of one eye.” Most people would not hesitate to call such a man a fool, yet are not many men and women contented with semi-blindness? One eye may enable us to see material things, but not spiritual things.

(2941)

Sight, Sacrificed—See [Science, Devotion to].

Sign of Distinction—See [Embellishment of Preaching].

Signs—See [Superstition].

SIGNALS

We should be as alert to hear God’s voice in the soul as these ship-masters are to hear the signals:

Experiments in the conductivity of sound through liquids were begun many years ago by Prof. Elisha Gray, and in 1901 a system of signals based thereon, designed by A. J. Mundy, was successfully tested in Boston Harbor. Steamships plying between Boston and New York have been equipped with the apparatus, and are said to use it very frequently in signaling.

Our representative, while on the Herman Winter, observed the perfect operation of the apparatus when approaching, passing, and leaving the Pollock Rip lightship. It had been prearranged that the signal should be the number 73, the number of the lightship. This locality was reached shortly before daylight, yet when the ship was seven miles from the lightship, tossed by tempestuous seas, the signal, seven strokes, then three, was faintly but distinctly heard. Within two miles it was quite loud, and the peculiar A musical note of the bell was plainly noticeable. It is feasible to signal words with a special code, and no doubt such a system of communication will soon be perfected. (Text.)—The Scientific American.

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See [Listening for Signals].

SIGNALS UNHEEDED

The engineer of the Philadelphia and Reading flyer, which on the night of January 27, 1903, plowed its death-dealing way without warning into the splintered cars of the Eastern express on the New Jersey Central Railroad, near Westfield, N. J., was extricated from the wreck suffering terribly from wounds from which he afterward died. When first carried to the hospital and questioned concerning the cause of the wreck, he could give no clear idea of how it happened that he ran by the red signal. In his agony he kept murmuring: “I saw nothing!” His later testimony was somewhat confused, but it hardly added to or subtracted from the force of that short, sad lament, “I saw nothing!” Many a mortal spirit rushes through this world seeing nothing, speeding on and on toward eternity, and recklessly running by signal after signal set by merciful hands to warn it of the dangers ahead.—Grace and Truth.

(2943)

SILENCE

The purple flushing of the eastern sky;

The stately progress of the sun toward even;

Night’s mantle dropping from the quiet heaven;

The holy hush which brings God’s presence nigh;

The dusky woods where cooling shadows lie,

Where birds are still and Nature to repose

Sinks gently down; dews falling on the rose;

Mountains sublime in distance looming high;

The smile of friends when love surpasses speech;

The hand-clasp, given when sorrow is too deep

For words. Ah me, the silence of life

Are mightier far, and higher lessons teach

Than all its noisy clamor! Let us reap

The bliss of those who keep themselves from strife.

—Frederick E. Snow, The Outlook.

(2944)

SILENCE AND SPEECH

A young man who was an inveterate talker was sent by his parents to Socrates to learn oratory. On being presented to Socrates the young man spoke so much that Socrates was out of patience. When the bargain came to be struck, Socrates asked him double the price. “Why charge me double?” asked the young man. “Because,” said Socrates, “I must teach you two sciences; the one to hold your tongue, and the other how to speak.”

Silence may be as eloquent as speech. The art of the matter is practise, each at the right time and in the right place.

(2945)

Silence Under Provocation—See [Provocation, Silence Under.]

SILENT PROCESSES

When I was a boy the new shoe (it was a boot then) was a mortification wherever I went. It announced my coming like a brass band. It was unescapable. To a modest man it was an agony. Even an assertive man found it inconvenient at times.

But now the shoes, even the newest of shoes, shoes worn for the first time, do not squeak one little squeak. They would not disturb the typical but mythical pin-fall silence.

Where has the squeak gone? It has been taken up by a layer of some sort of cloth or soft fiber between the two layers of leather. It is a very simple device, and the wonder, as with so many other simple devices, is that it was not thought of before.

What I want to do is to apply the non-squeak method to my life. I want to put something between the rubbing surfaces of my thoughts and words and actions that will make them noiseless. I want the operation of my brain and the energy of my life to be silent. I shall be glad when the world sees results, but I do not care to have it see processes.

I want my shoes to “get there,” but I don’t want them to squeak on the way.—Arrow, Christian Endeavor World.

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SIMPLE-MINDEDNESS

An army examiner once had a very stupid candidate before him, who apparently was unable to answer the simplest question. At last the examiner lost his temper, and with sarcastic emphasis, quite lost on the youth before him, queried.

“Suppose, sir, that you were a captain in command of a company of infantry; that in your rear was an unpassable abyss; that on either side of you towered perpendicular rocks of untraversable height; that before you stood the enemy, one hundred men to each one of yours; what, sir, would you do in this emergency?”

“General,” said the aspirant to military honors, “I should resign.”—Tit-Bits.

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SIMPLICITY

Hon. E. B. Washburne says: “When Grant left his headquarters at Smith’s plantation (a short distance above New Carthage, on the Louisiana side) to enter on the greatest campaign in history, he did not take with him the trappings and paraphernalia so common among military men. All depended on the quickness of the movement. It was important that he should be encumbered with as little baggage as possible. He took with him no orderly, nor horse, nor a servant, nor an overcoat, nor a camp-chest, nor even a clean shirt. His entire baggage for the six days—I was with him at that time—was a tooth-brush! He fared like the commonest soldier in his command, partaking of his rations and sleeping on the ground with no covering except the canopy of heaven.”

(2948)

See [Life, The Simple]; [Tact].

SIMPLICITY AND TRUTH

The first rule of evidence in courts is that the easiest explanation is the most probable one. The court always rejects the far-fetched as the improbable. If the snow should fall to-night, and to-morrow morning at daylight footprints in the snow should be found, you could explain the footprints in the easiest possible way—namely, a man went down the street. A far-fetched explanation would be that an aeroplane came along, that a man leaned out of the basket, and holding a shoe in either hand carefully made these footprints so as to create the impression that some one had walked down Orange Street. We reject the explanation because it is involved. We choose the easiest explanation and the simplest.—N. D. Hillis.

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SIMULATION

There are many insects, birds and beasts that preserve their being by simulating what they are not, that they may remain undistinguishable and escape the pitfalls that may lie in wait for them; also to catch the unobservant and destroy them. Among these are the “specter insect,” the “walking-stick insect,” and the “praying insect” (Mantis religiosa), which is so constructed, with its fore-legs stiff and thrust into the air to resemble a withered twig, that it may escape foes from this very resemblance, also that it may catch any unwary insect that ventures near for its own subsistence, thus simulating an attitude of patient endurance quite like those scavengers of the human race—pious beggars who simulate faith and patient endurance, but are really burglars and robbers. The sphinx caterpillar also simulates what it is not, and escapes its enemies by putting on a false appearance, and also attracts its food in a like manner.—Mrs. M. J. Gorton, Popular Science News.

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Sin, Bondage to—See [Bondage to Sin].

SIN-CONSCIOUSNESS

The Rev. James Guthrie, one of the Scottish Covenanters, had a man-servant who was much humbled and perplexed by hearing his master pray regularly in family worship for one who was present that his sins might be forgiven. There were few, of course, in the household circle, and the man naturally thought that it was he who was prayed for. After Mr. Guthrie had one night been especially fervent in supplication for this person present, the man could bear it no longer and spoke to his master, wishing to know wherein he had come short. Judge of the astonishment of both when Mr. Guthrie said it was himself he had been praying for.

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---

A deacon in a Jacobite church near Tripoli, Syria, was seeking relief for his sin-burdened conscience. He heard of a woman who wrote out all her sins on a paper and laid it on the tomb of St. Ephraim. When she found the paper later, there were no traces of writing on it, so she knew her sins had been erased. The deacon wrote his, and placed them under the altar-cloth beneath the sacred wafer which he believed to be the very body of Christ; but the ink showed no signs of dimness. He was disappointed and discouraged, but just at that time he found a tract entitled “Looking unto Jesus,” which showed him a better way.

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See [Experience and Bible].

SIN COVERED

In the old days the gutters were open in the streets, but in modern towns they are put underground; so society is always forcing vices and abuses underground, covering them up by a variety of regulations that they no longer shock the public sense. Still, on occasion, the covered drain may prove its deadly virus, and the covered sin of the community is still there, working and threatening mischief.—W. L. Watkinson, “The Transfigured Sackcloth.”

(2953)

Sin Exposed—See [Exposure].

SIN, FASCINATION OF

Let the young especially beware of the insidious approacher of evil. Says Lady Montague:

I have sat on the shore and waited for the gradual approach of the sea, and have seen its dancing waves and white surf, and lingered till its gentle notes grew into billows and had well-nigh swept me from my firmest footing. So have I seen a heedless youth gazing with a too curious spirit on the sweet motions and gentle approaches of an inviting pleasure, till it has detained his eye, and imprisoned his feet, and swelled upon his soul and swept him to a swift destruction. (Text.)

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SIN, HIDDEN

Donald Sage Mackay, in “The Religion of the Threshold,” writes in substance as follows:

Henry Drummond vividly describes the ravages of the African white ant. One may never see the insect possibly in the flesh, for it lives underground. But its ravages confront one at every turn. You build your house, perhaps, and for a few months fancy you have pitched on the one solitary site in the country where there are no white ants. But one day suddenly the door-post totters, and lintel and rafter come down together with a crash. You look at a section of the wrecked timbers and discover that the whole inside is eaten clean away. The apparently solid logs of which the rest of the house is built are now mere cylinders of bark, and through the thickest of them you can push your little finger. It is a vivid picture of the way in which concealed sins eat out the pith of the soul. To the outward eye everything may remain the same, but the fiber of character has been punctured through and through, till the whole nature is corroded.

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Sin, Ineffaceable—See [Consequences, Irreparable].

SIN, ORIGINAL

What a strange misuse of language to speak of sacred writers as inventing original sin! Can we say that Jenner invented the smallpox, or that Pasteur invented the rabies, or that any of the celebrated physicians invented the maladies which are known by their names? What these famous men did was to successfully diagnose, characterize, and treat diseases which already existed, and which proved their malignant power by carrying thousands of men and women to the grave. (Text.)—W. L. Watkinson, “The Transfigured Sackcloth.”

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SIN, SENSE OF

It is popular in some quarters to pooh-pooh, the sense of sin, or to smile away the seriousness of sin.

Alfred de Musset, when he was young (the same fact is told of Merimee), once, being very much scolded for a childish freak, went away in tears, deeply penitent, when he heard his parents say, after the door was shut: “Poor boy, he thinks himself quite a criminal!” The thought that his misdeed was not so very serious, and that his repentance was mere childishness, wounded him deeply, and the impression remained engraved on his memory forever. (Text.)

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SIN, SUBTLETY OF

Our scientists, by the aid of powerful lenses, intense lights, exquisite adjustments, have succeeded in rendering visible the germs of several terrible maladies which decimate us, and these ardent naturalists hope ultimately to discover germs still more minute and obscure. But can any one believe that a bacteria of immorality will ever be revealed by the microscope as the germs of disease have been? Fever and cholera germs, germs of consumption, hydrophobia, erysipelas, have been disclosed by the fierce light of modern research; but no one will suppose that the germs of intemperance, impurity, anger, covetousness, deceit, pride, murder, foolishness, will ever be thrown on the screen, and an antidote be found for them in the pharmacopoeia. If it were thus possible to exhibit the secret of our sins, how we should shudder at the sight of the naked human heart, and shrink from the ghastly things which nestle there! But such a spectacle is not possible, and we are sure that it never will be. The germs of moral disease are in the soul itself; no glass of science may make them visible, no physician may deal with them, no medicine may purge them.—W. L. Watkinson, “The Transfigured Sackcloth.”

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SIN WITHOUT ATONEMENT

A writer, speaking of the wasteful use of coal in England, and the consequent diminishing of the national store, says:

Our stock of coal is a definite and limited quantity that was placed in the present storehouse long before human beings came upon the earth. Every ton of coal that is wasted is lost forever, and can not be replaced by any human effort, while bread is a product of human industry, and its waste may be replaced by additional human labor. The sin of bread-wasting does admit of agricultural atonement, while there is no form of practical repentance that can positively and directly replace a hundredweight of wasted coal.

Here is an instance of a sin without atonement. Man can not reproduce the coal that he has once wasted. Grace has a kindlier word for our moral waters. The “years that the locust eaten” may be restored. (Text.)

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SINNERS AND GOD

The following is taken from Jonathan Edwards’ sermon entitled, “Sinners in the hands of an angry God.” The sinners are given a dreadful warning.

The wrath of God burns against them; their damnation don’t slumber; the pit is prepared; the fire is made ready; the furnace is now hot, ready to receive them; the flames do now rage and glow. The devils watch them; they are ever by them, at their right hand; they stand waiting for them, like greedy, hungry lions that see their prey, and expect to have it, but are for the present kept back. If God should withdraw His hand, by which they are restrained, they would in one moment fly upon their poor souls. The old serpent is gaping for them; hell opens its mouth wide to receive them; and if God should permit it, they would be hastily swallowed up and lost. The God that holds you over the pit of hell, much as one holds a spider or some loathsome insect over the fire, abhors you, and is dreadfully provoked; His wrath toward you burns like fire; He looks upon you as worthy of nothing else, but to be cast into the fire; He is of purer eyes than to bear to have you in His sight; you are ten times so abominable in His eyes as the most hateful and venomous serpent is in ours.

Jonathan Edwards was born October 5, 1703. What a difference time makes in religious thinking.

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SINS, ACCUMULATED

A great mogul engine goes dashing along at a high speed, plowing its way against wind, and defying every obstruction. But little snowflakes, steadily falling on the track, grow into a heap that brings the monster to a standstill.

Not one great crime, but many small sins block the soul’s progress heavenward.

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Sin’s Causes—See [Disease, Causes of].

SINS, PET

An officer in India, who one day fell asleep with his left hand hanging over the couch, was awakened by his young pet lion licking him. The rough tongue brought blood, and the officer tried to withdraw his hand. At the first movement the lion gave a short growl and grasped the hand more firmly, upon which the officer, seeing that his lion cub had become suddenly changed from a domestic pet to a wild beast, took a loaded pistol from under his pillow with his right hand and shot the animal dead.

There are pet sins that men caress, parade, and boast of. They appear harmless enough to the casual observer, but at some unexpected moment they becoming a “roaring lion seeking whom he may devour.” (Text.)

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SINS OF YOUTH

In some strata there are to be seen the marks of showers of rain which fell centuries ago, and they are so plain and perfect that they clearly indicate the way the wind was drifting and in what direction the tempest slanted from the sky. So may the tracks of youthful sins be traced upon the tablet of life when it has merged into old-age tracks on which it is bitter and sad to look, and which call forth many a worthless longing for the days and months which are past. (Text.)—Mursell.

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Sins That Are Regarded as Little—See [Little Sins].

SINGING CONDUCIVE TO HEALTH

The time will soon come when singing will be regarded as one of the great helps to physicians in lung diseases, more especially in their incipient state. Almost every branch of gymnastics is employed in one way or another by the doctors, but the simple and natural function of singing has not yet received its full meed of attention. In Italy, some years ago statistics were taken which proved that the vocal artists were especially long-lived and healthy, under normal circumstances, while of the brass instrumentalists it was discovered that consumption never claimed a victim among them. Those who have a tendency toward consumption should take easy vocal exercises, no matter how thin and weak their voices may seem to be. They will find a result at times, far surpassing any relief afforded by medicine. Vocal practise, in moderation, is the best system of general gymnastics that can be imagined, many muscles being brought into play that would scarcely be suspected of action in connection with so simple a matter as tone production. Therefore, apart from all art considerations, merely as a matter of health, one can earnestly say to the healthy, “Sing! that you may remain so,” and to the weakly, “Sing, that you may become strong.”—Boston Musical Herald.

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Singing Stays Panic—See [Self-restraint].

SINGLENESS OF PURPOSE

The engineers of Nicholas I showed him their map of a crooked railway line from St. Petersburg to Moscow, explaining that it curved this way and that to take in this and that important interest or city, but the Czar took a ruler and drew a straight line between his two capitals, saying: “Build me that road.”

The secret of the Czar’s engineering was simply a single purpose to join the old and new capitals of his empire. The engineers thought of one great interest this way, and another that way; but the Czar had no interests but the one. That may have been poor business, but it was good military engineering, and had it continued in Russian military autocratic government, the Japanese, in the late war, would have had harder work.—Franklin Noble, “Sermons in Illustration.”

(2965)

Sisterhood—See [Graciousness in Women].

SIZE, COMPARATIVE

Many a man who looks large in small surroundings, is dwarfed to a pigmy when placed among his superiors:

Since the Statue of Liberty was erected the scale of almost everything material has changed, especially in New York, so that the colossus does not look even large now. It was all very well for the Colossus of Rhodes to straddle the harbor entrance, looking down on the tiny sailing craft, and pigmy buildings of its day; it could not look otherwise than grandiose; but it would have been swallowed up and lost among the sky-scrapers and mammoth ocean-liners of twentieth-century New York, with its huge bridges, lofty towers, and all-around bigness. Nothing counts in a work of art but quality.—Boston Transcript.

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See [Comparative, The].

SIZE NOT POWER

John Stuart Mill gives us a wonderful contrast between man’s brief day and the enduring ages of Neptune, yet Neptune is a frozen clod, whirling on in eternal ice and darkness. A little ball of ice can not laugh nor love nor sing nor curse nor faint nor die; neither can a big ball of ice named Neptune. It is man alone who is great, as the regent under God. The contrast between the insignificance of man and the greatness of nature is based on the fallacy that bulk is greatness. The truth is that bulk is bulk, and concerns rocks and clods. Size is not power. (Text.)—N. D. Hillis.

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Skill—See [Headwork].

Skill by Experience—See [Precautions].

Skill Solving a Problem—See [Character Conditioned by the Physical].

SKILL WITH TENDERNESS

Years ago, in Central New York, lived a Dr. Delamater, a noted surgeon. It was before the days of anesthetics. A woman patient consulted him, and after examination he told her, with tears in his eyes, that a painful and dangerous operation was necessary. “Proceed,” said the woman. The surgeon’s success was complete. “Weren’t you afraid when you saw the surgeon affected so?” she was asked later. “No,” she said, “that was what helped me. Those tears assured me that the doctor was as tender-hearted as he was skilful. I could trust such a man.” (Text.)

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SKY, THE

In landscape-painting the sky, it is said, is the keynote, the standard of scale, and the chief organ of sentiment; just as the sky is the source of light in nature, and governs everything. This led John Constable to say that “the landscape-painter who does not make his skies a very material part of his composition neglects to avail himself of one of his greatest aids.” He says he was advised to consider his sky as “a white sheet thrown behind the objects.” He claims that the skies have what he calls a natural history in the changes that they show. As West once told him: “Always remember, sir, that light and shade never stand still,” adding: “In your skies always aim at brightness ... even the darkest effects there should be brightness. Your darks should look like the darks of silver, not of lead or of slate.” It was the fault in the skies that led to the rejection of Constable’s picture, “Flatford Mill,” by the Royal Academy.

How much life depends upon its skies.

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SLACKNESS

Mr. C. E. Russell, in Hampton’s Magazine, gives some experiences of Dr. H. H. Hart, of Chicago, member of the National Prison Association. One time he went to an Illinois jail in a small rural town, and asked to see the sheriff:

It appeared that the sheriff was visiting in another part of the county. Doctor Hart asked for the jailer. The jailer was absent, attending a funeral. Was any officer within range? Oh, yes, there was a deputy sheriff somewhere about. After diligent search, Doctor Hart succeeded in running down the deputy sheriff, and announced that he had come to inspect the jail.

The deputy sheriff said he would get the key. He felt in one pocket after another, and at last announced, with some trace of annoyance, that he could not find the key. For a moment he stood silent and meditating, until at last a bright thought seemed to occur to him. “Wait a moment,” he said, and disappeared into the barn. Presently he returned with another man.

“This is one of the prisoners,” said the deputy. “I guess he has the key.”

Accordingly, the prisoner dug the key out of a pocket and ushered Doctor Hart into the prison.

On another occasion Doctor Hart visited a jail, and found it apparently deserted. He could discover no sheriff, no jailer, no deputy. A man was sweeping the sidewalk, and of him Doctor Hart asked for news of the county officers. The man shook his head.

“I guess I’m the only prisoner here. The sheriff and the jailer have gone out into the country on a picnic.”

“What are you in for?”

“Oh, for murder,” said the man, nonchalantly, and resumed his sweeping.

Incredible as it may seem, this man was telling the truth, and not long afterward he was tried and found guilty.

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SLANDER

Against slander there is no defense. It starts with a word, with a nod, with a shrug, with a look, with a smile. It is pestilence walking in darkness, spreading contagion far and wide, which the most wary traveler can not avoid; it is the heart-searching dagger of the dark assassin; it is the poisoned arrow whose wounds are incurable; it is the mortal sting of the deadly adder, murder its employment, innocence its prey, and ruin its sport.—Catholic Telegraph.

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SLANDER IRREPARABLE

The man who breaks into my dwelling, or meets me on the public road and robs me of my property, does me injury. He stops me on the way to wealth, strips me of my hard-earned savings, involves me in difficulty, and brings my family to penury and want. But he does me an injury that can be repaired. Industry and economy may again bring me into circumstances of ease and affluence. The man who, coming at the midnight hour, fires my dwelling, does me an injury—he burns my roof, my pillow, my raiment, my very shelter from the storm and tempest; but he does me an injury that can be repaired. The storm may indeed beat upon me, and chilling blasts assail me, but Charity will receive me into her dwelling, will give me food to eat, and raiment to put on; will timely assist me, raising a new roof over the ashes of the old, and I shall again sit by my own fireside, and taste the sweets of friendship and of home. But the man who circulates false reports concerning my character, who exposes every act of my life which may be represented to my disadvantage, who goes first to this, then to that individual, tells them he is very tender of my reputation, enjoins upon them the strictest secrecy, and then fills their ears with hearsays and rumors, and, what is worse, leaves them to dwell upon the hints and suggestions of his own busy imagination—the man who thus “filches from me my good name,” does me an injury which neither industry, nor charity, nor time itself can repair.—Catholic Telegraph.

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SLAVE FOR THE GOSPEL’S SAKE

On the wall of a church in Algiers is a memorial tablet, inscribed with the name of Devereaux Spratt. Born in England, he, in 1641, with 119 other persons, the passengers and crew on board an English ship, were captured by Algerine pirates and sold into slavery. Having tasted of the salvation of Jesus Christ, he soon began laboring for the salvation of others, and many were brought to know and acknowledge the Lord. After some time, his family, being influential, persuaded the English Government to interfere on behalf of these poor captives, and the dey of Algiers granted to Mr. Spratt his liberty. But those among whom he had labored sorrowed so bitterly as they thought of losing him from among them, and the bonds which held him to them were so strong and tender, that he actually declined the offer of freedom, gave up home and friends, and consented to abide in lifelong bondage, that he, being a slave, might make others free. Thus, for the sake of emancipating the souls of others, he lived and died an Algerine slave. (Text.)

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SLAVE TRADE, ATROCITIES OF

Slaves of both sexes in South Africa were chained together in pairs, many being mere skeletons from the misery, want, and fatigue of their march. In some the fetters had, by their constant action, worn through the lacerated flesh to the bare bone, the ulcerated wound having become the resort of myriads of flies. One captain had thrust his slaves between decks and closed the hatches for the night. When morning came fifty of the poor wretches were found to have been suffocated. The captain swore at the untimely loss, had the bodies thrown into the river, and went on shore to buy more negroes to complete his cargo.

As the summary of the facts recorded, it may be stated that:

Of 1,000 victims to the slave trade, one-half perished in the seizure, march and detention	500
Of 500 embarked on the transports, one-fourth, or 25 per cent, died in the middle passage	125
Of the remaining 375 landed, 20 per cent died soon after	75
Of 1,000 slaves, total loss	700

So that the annual loss to South Africa in its inhabitants was 500,000.—Edward Gilliatt, “Heroes of Modern Crusades.”

(2974)

Slavery Abolished—See [Freedom, Gratitude for].

SLAVERY ENDED

In 1834 the children of the Jamaica slaves were freed, but at midnight of July 31, 1838, a general proclamation of emancipation went into effect and every adult slave in Jamaica became a free man. In anticipation of this event, William Knibb, the evangelist, gathered together the ten thousand slaves on that island for a prayer and praise meeting, and when the first stroke of the midnight bell pealed out, William Knibb shouted, “The monster is dying!” When the second stroke came, he said “dying”—after the third stroke he again said “dying,” and when the twelfth stroke struck he said “The monster is dead—let us bury him.” They had ready an immense coffin, into which they cast the whips, the branding-irons, the handcuffs and fetters, the slave garments and all the memorials of their slavery—and screwed down the lid. They let the coffin down into a twelve-foot deep grave, and, covering it over, they buried out of sight all the memorials of their past life of bondage.

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SLAVES NOT HEROES

When Louis XIV, in order to check what he perceived to be the growing supremacy of England upon the seas, determined to establish a navy, he sent for his great minister Colbert, and said to him, “I wish a navy—how can I create it?” Colbert replied, “Make as many galley-slaves as you can.” Thereupon every Huguenot who refused to doff his bonnet on the street as the King passed by, every boy of seventeen who could give no account of himself, every vagrant without an occupation, was seized, convicted and sent to the galleys. Could a navy of heroes be made of galley-slaves? The history of the Anglo-Saxon race says “No.”—Hampton L. Carson.

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SLAVES OF PLEASURE

Philanthropists in prison cells, missionaries to the Fiji Islanders, people doing rescue work in the worst sections of great cities, Livingstone in Africa, all these, through zeal, can work till midnight to save lost men, but the votary of pleasure will toil on up and down a waxed floor till daylight, until the head reels and the whole heart is sick. In his “Confessions” Tolstoi says that for ten years he went from banquet to banquet, drinking rich wines, feasting, following his tailor, concocting flatteries, lies, sleeping by day and dissipating at night, and he adds, “My observation is that no galley-slave or apostle like Paul has to toil as hard as a society man and a society woman,” and both have lost their beauty, their happiness and their health before the life course is half run. So pleasure makes its disciples become galley-slaves. But pleasure promised a velvet path, air heavy with roses, the wine and nectar of Venus and Bacchus. Pleasure promised perfumed bowers, days of happiness, nights of laughter and song. But pleasure is a deceiver. (Text.)—N. D. Hillis.

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Sleeping in Church—See [Self-blame].

SLOWNESS

“A snail’s pace,” hitherto a remarkably indefinite phrase, has at last been exactly defined, thanks to the experimental philosophers of the Terre Haute Polytechnic. After putting half a dozen of them through their paces, and making all necessary differentiations, it was ascertained that a snail can travel exactly a mile in fourteen days. Hence, it will be seen that it is about nip and tuck between the snail and the boy when you send the latter to a grocery past a vacant lot where the other boys are engaged in a game of baseball.—Cincinnati Enquirer.

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SMALL ANNOYANCES

James Drummond, in “Parables and Pictures,” says:

We have heard of a battle against cannibals gained by the use of tacks. They had taken possession of a whaling vessel and bound the man who was left in care of it. The crew, on returning, saw the situation, and scattered tacks upon the deck of the vessel, which penetrated the bare feet of the savages, and sent them howling into the sea. They were ready to meet lance and sword, but they could not overcome the tacks on the floor. We brace ourselves up against great calamities. The little tacks of life, scattered along our way, are hard to bear.

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SMALL BEGINNINGS

“Despise not the day of small things.” “Great oaks from little acorns grow.”

A boy used to crush flowers to get their color, and painted the white side of his father’s cottage in Tyrol with all sorts of pictures, which the mountaineer gazed at as wonderful. He was the great artist, Titian.

An old painter watched a little fellow who amused himself making drawing of his pots and brushes, easel and tools, and said, “That boy will beat me some day.” So he did, for he was Michelangelo.

(2980)

Small Duties—See [Helpfulness].

SMALL EVILS HARDEST TO BEAR

Gerald Gould expresses in verse a sentiment that many will indorse:

It is the slow and softly dropping tears

That bring the furrows to man’s face; the years,

Falling and fall’n vain,

That turn the gold to gray upon his head;

And the dull days to disappointment wed,

And pain that follows pain

That make life bitter in the mouth, and strew

The dead with roses, but the quick with yew.

Better a wide and windy world, and scope

For rise and downfall of a mighty hope,

Than many little ills;

Better the sudden horror, the swift wrong,

Than doubts and cares that die not, and the long

Monotony that kills:

The empty dawns, pale stars, and narrow skies,

Mean hopes, mean fears, mean sorrows, and mean sighs. (Text.)

—The Spectator.

(2981)

Smallness and Bigness Compared—See [Destructiveness].

Smiles—See [Love’s Carefulness]; [Trouble].

SMILES AND FROWNS

We would all be willing to help in the pleasant task described in these verses:

If I knew the box where the smiles are kept,

No matter how large the key

Or strong the bolt, I would try so hard,

’Twould open I know for me.

Then over the land and sea broadcast

I’d scatter smiles to play,

That the children’s faces might hold them fast>

For many and many a day.

If I knew a box that was large enough

To hold all the frowns I meet,

I would try to gather them, every one,

From nursery, school, and street.

Then, folding and holding, I’d pack them in,

And turn the monster key;

I’d hire a giant to drop the box

To the depths of the deep, deep sea.

(2982)

SMILING

In Brooklyn, two young women undertook to band together a smile club. In this club’s membership may be included every one, everywhere, who is willing to pledge as many smiles as possible to make life generally happier. Here are some of the things required of members: “Radiate! Smile! Shine like a little sun! Begin each day anew, and begin it by smiling until you are in a good humor. Think only of the things you wish to possess or of what you desire to become, for thoughts are things. Have faith and your wishes will come true. Smile! And keep on smiling, and you will find that the happiness you have always been seeking is within yourself. Express this happiness.” Surely no objection can be offered to the organizing of clubs of this sort, tho we need not necessarily join one to acquire and practise the smiling habit. It may be said of smile clubs and smiles, the more the merrier. As a popular post-card puts it: “Smile a while, and while you smile another smiles, and soon there are miles and miles of smiles because you smile.” Grouches could not exist if every one was smiling. It’s worth trying for a few days anyhow, just to see how well it works.

(2983)

Snob versus Gentleman—See [Gentility, False Standard of.]

SNOBBERY

A countryman had been to the city and went home brimful of news. “You ’member the Smiths?” he asked his wife, “the Silver Crik Smiths, them as got rich on the’r gran’feyther’s money.” Yes, she remembered them. “I seen ’em. They’re way up; live in a gran’ house on a street they call a thavenoo. They ride in a double kerridge, and have no end of money.” She said she s’posed as much. “But, ’Mandy, you wouldn’t want ter change places with her; I see her a minnit, and I didn’t hev the heart to speak t’her. She’s bin humbled right down to the dust. She’s as blind as a bat.” Blind! She guessed not. “But she is. Fust, she didn’t know me, me that’s rid down hill and played tag with her when she warn’t knee-high to a turkey. Then, ’Mandy, tho her eyes was wide open, she went right along the streets, all drest up in her fine clothes, and a leetle mite of a dog was leading her along. He was tied to a streeng, and she had hold of t’other end of the streeng. Now, ’Mandy, how’d you like to be her?”—Detroit Free Press.

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SNOBBERY REBUKED

Social standing is not always a sign of moral worth, as the following story suggests:

“The late Francis Murphy,” said a Pittsburg man, “perhaps the greatest temperance reformer our country has ever seen, hated snobbishness hardly less than drunkenness. At a dinner in Pittsburg I once heard him rebuke, with a little anecdote, a snobbish millionaire.

“He said there was a rich and snobbish English woman living in the country. Her husband put himself up for a political place, and in order to help his campaign along the woman gave a garden party to which every voter for miles around was invited.

“Among the humble guests was a very independent grocer. The grocer made himself quite at home. No duke’s manner could have been easier and freer. Indeed, the man’s total lack of subservience angered his hostess extremely, so that in the end, thinking to take him down a peg, she said to him significantly:

“‘You know, Mr. Greens, in London, shopkeepers don’t go into the best society.’

“The grocer looked at her, and nodded and smiled.

“They don’t here, either, ma’am,’ he said.” (Text.)

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SOCIAL CHRISTIANITY

In other days when people did not have matches they were sometimes obliged to go to the neighbors for fire, if their own blaze went out. Usually a bunch of large knots were laid on the coals at night and then covered over with ashes until morning. But if the knots failed to burn, then the oldest child was usually sent to the neighbors with an iron kettle to borrow fire. Happy to be of use, the child soon returned with a kettleful of bright coals and a blazing knot on top.

No man can live at his best who leads a solitary life. Without the fellowship of others, like an isolated coal he soon ceases to glow and burn. Very few can remain for a long time in a white heat of enthusiasm. The flames die down, the warmth disappears unless the fires are kept replenished. Brainard’s prayer was “O that I could be a flame of fire in the service of my God.” (Text.)

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See [Christianity, Social].

Social Faults—See [Difficulties, Social].

SOCIAL INSTINCTS IN BIRDS

On one occasion Mr. Leander Keyser’s several cages of birds were moved from one porch to another on the other side of the house. The jay’s cage, being too big for the new quarters, was left behind, when at once the bird began to express his dissatisfaction and loneliness. All day he rushed about his cage, calling in the most pitiful way. The next morning he was no more reconciled, and showed so plainly by every look and motion his unhappiness that a place was made for him near the others. The moment he saw them he gave a cry of delight, his calls ceased, he chirped and twittered, and was his happy self again.—Olive Thorne Miller, “The Bird Our Brother.”

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SOCIAL INTERDEPENDENCE

There was once a rich man who lived in a certain village. The people were pleased to have this man of influence among them. The only fault that they found with him was that he was selfish. It did not trouble him if his neighbors were poor or sick or out of work or in trouble. What was that to him? It only added to his position of superiority. He could import his edibles. He could hire foreign labor. But one day a family was stricken with a contagious disease induced by their poverty and poor food. The village was quarantined. He went to a gardener for vegetables but the cut worms had made the garden fail. He went to the poultry-dealer for eggs, but his hens were not laying well. He went to the farmer for fruit, but the drought had injured his vines. Then the rich man began to realize the relation between himself and his fellow man. If trouble came to his neighbor, he could not escape its blight. It was then that he became truly humble and began to love his neighbor as himself.

It is as true in our moral and spiritual life as it is in our physical life. The sin that blasts our neighbor’s character will sooner or later cast its shadow upon us, live we ever so blameless. No one can live his life apart from his neighbors. (Text.)

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SOCIAL PROGRESS

“The farmers’ telephone was a boon during heavy and unprecedented snows,” says The Electrical World and Engineer, “and many interesting uses are reported in New York State in places where many roads were blocked with drifts over ten feet deep. Hemmed in so that they could not see a neighbor for weeks, farmers have been able to converse with their friends and thus keep in touch with the world.” (Text.)

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See [Economic Motives].

SOCIAL RELIGION

Only the selfish man could wish to go to heaven alone. The door of life is always closed to the man who is not helping some other man on his journey.

A priest had a striking dream. He dreamed he had ascended the ladder that reached from earth to heaven. Expectantly he knocked upon the door. Some one responded, and demanded, “Who is there?” Proudly the priest called his name. “Who is with you?” came the reply. “No one,” answered the priest; “I am alone.” “Sorry,” said the angel, “but we are instructed never to open these gates for a single individual.” And, crestfallen and disappointed, he descended to earth.

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SOCIAL STRENGTH

A constant struggle is going on in nature, and those animals best adapted to their conditions will be the ones to survive and transmit their superior characteristics to subsequent generations. This is natural selection. This same law governed man in his early history, and in almost the same way as it governs the brute kingdom. From the time that the tribal relation is established among men the struggle for existence ceases to be one of individuals and becomes one of tribes. It little profits an individual to be strong if he belongs to a weak tribe; it little profits a tribe to be composed of strong individuals if they fail to work in harmony with each other. Natural selection will still preserve the strongest, but it will be the strongest tribe. It is mutual trust, fidelity, honesty, concert in action, patriotism, disregard of death, that form the sinews of the nation, personal strength becoming a subordinate factor. Wolves hunt in companies, and together fearlessly attack animals which would easily master them separately. Insects live in communities and tho individually they are weak, by concert of action they make themselves formidable to the strongest of animals. But the central feature of the teaching of Christ was the law of love. It constantly appears in His words—now clothed in one parable now in another. The new command given to man was to love his enemy, to do good to them that hated him, to help the weak, to pardon the erring, to resist evil, and to give to him that asked. Henceforth it was to be the peacemaker who should be blest, and he who wished to be greatest was to be servant of all.—H. W. Conn, Methodist Review.

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See [Unity, Strength in].

SOCIAL TRAITS IN CHILDREN

Pedagogs tell us that the plays of children under seven or eight are noncompetitive and noncooperative. Kindergarten children play side by side or in pairs, rarely spontaneously in groups. They are gregarious rather than social. The plays between the ages of seven and twelve are social, cooperative and competitive games, but each child usually plays for himself. After twelve group games with opposing sides are more popular, and finally tend to crowd out all others.

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SOCIAL VANITY

I read in a Paris paper an interesting account of a reception that some of our distinguished friends passing the season in Newport gave to a chimpanzee. Of course, it was mortifying to an American to have it known by Europeans that my compatriots were prepared to confess in that practical way to their belief in the evolution theory, and to have it understood in the cultivated centers of English and Continental life that over here people of advertised refinement could drop into such close relations of social reciprocity without either the Newport gentlemen and ladies or the chimpanzee feeling themselves insulted by the contact. But that first feeling, which of course was one of loathing, not for the chimpanzee, but for his companions, soon gave place to one which I am sure was more just and wholesome, this, namely, a pathetic realization of the horrid sense of emptiness which people must be suffering under to be willing to fill up the vacuum with material of such an abominably unhuman type; like a man so agonizingly hungry that he had rather fill himself with carrion than go to bed supperless, and not only that, but reduced to such an extreme point of inanition as even to acquire an appetite for carrion.—Charles H. Parkhurst.

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SOCIETY IS MAN’S PLACE

The man of the city closes his house, forgets his office and goes away. He has a suit of store clothes on him and two linen collars in his handbag, but for the rest he carries the garb of the vagabond, and getting into this as quick as he can he buries his face in the pine-needles and lets the wind and rain beat down on his uncovered head and untrimmed beard. And the weeks pass; and then happens the stranger thing. Through the music of the forest and the harmonies of the falling waters, he hears, at first, far away and hardly audible, then ever nearer and clearer, the voice of the city he deserted, and to his manhood’s spirit that voice speaks with a charm which overcomes the woodland’s spell and in another day he is back again, back in the old street, to the old work, to the ever dear old city. And once more keeping step with the vast army of toilers, he knows that not in solitude, but in society, is character made, and more, that not nature, but human nature, is God’s best handiwork.—T. C. McClelland.

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Soil—See [Fruit and Soil].

SOLACE OF THE SEA

The following paragraph is the conclusion of James G. Blaine’s eulogy of President Garfield, and forms one of the finest passages of English prose:

Gently, silently, the love of a great people bore the pale sufferer to the longed-for healing of the sea, to live or to die, as God should will. Within sight of its heaving billows, within sound of its manifold voices, with wan, fevered face tenderly lifted to the cooling breeze, he looked out wistfully upon the ocean’s changing wonders, on its far sails whitening in the morning light, on its restless waves rolling shoreward to break and die beneath the noonday sun, on the red clouds of evening arching low to the horizon, on the serene and shining pathway of the stars. Let us think that his dying eyes read a mystic meaning, which only the rapt and parting soul may know. Let us believe that, in the silence of the receding world, he heard the great wave breaking on a farther shore, and felt already upon his wasted brow the breath of the eternal morning.

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Solar Energy—See [Energy]; [Utilization].

SOLDIER, A TRUE

In the midst of a hot engagement, Napoleon asked one of his aides about the battle. “Sire,” said he, “this battle is lost, but,” pointing with his sword to the sun still an hour high, “there is still time enough to win another.”

(2996)

Soldier’s Dying Sentiments—See [Essentials].

SOLIDARITY

Smith’s family in Brooklyn went on short allowance, the oldest son was taken out of college, the two daughters gave up their music-teacher, there was no summer vacation. They explained that Smith had lost thirty-six thousand dollars on R. & P. stock. Smith knew that he had lost this money because he was ten minutes late in getting a receipt from the directors.

On a certain day there were twenty-four directors in the head office. They waited vainly for the twenty-fifth. Their half-hour delay was costly to Smith and many others.

Mr. Brown, the twenty-fifth director, was late because his clerk had not brought a certain mail package due on the one-o’clock express. The clerk came at last with the package; the one-o’clock express had arrived late.

Fifty more plans went wrong because the express was late. Men rang up the general manager’s office to complain of the annoyance. The manager sent for the conductor. The conductor explained that the fault was a “hot box.” Inquiry at Rochester traced the hot-box to the inspector and oiler. He had come late to his work and was only in time to go over half the wheels of the express. The oiler, being questioned, admitted that he was late owing to a sick baby, for whom he had been obliged to go for a doctor. So, in a way, an oiler’s sick baby, two hundred miles away, upset Smith and his family, delayed boards of directors, changed Wall Street fortunes. Victor Hugo said that at Waterloo “the universe changed front.” But it changes front every time we act. If one member suffers, all the members suffer with it.

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---

The people of the world have a community of interests. Sickness in the slums of a great city, for instance, breeds disease in the whole community:

A man in the city of Chicago was asked why he did not do more to better the condition of the working people in the poorer sections of the city. “What are they to me?” he heartlessly answered. A few weeks later his daughter died of typhoid-fever brought to her in clothing made in the sweat-shops which her father thought it was not his business to try to do away with. (Text.)

(2998)

See [Sensitiveness].

SOLIDITY OF OLD TRUTHS

The fine-grained old truths of religion have been deposited by the world’s best life. Its age is theirs; but, altho so many epochs and races went to make them, we use them now without a thought of their age or of the gravity of getting them well-grown; like the beautiful ivory mammoth tusk, sticking six or seven feet out of the frozen ground in Alaska, which the Indians have used for generations as a hitching-post. Tribes come and go, and generations succeed each other; but we all hitch up to the solid truths which offer their convenience, embedded in the past. (Text.)—John Weiss.

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SOLITUDE, LESSON OF

My safety (from madness) lay, as I found, in compressing my thoughts to the smallest compass of mental existence, and no sooner did worldly visions or memories intrude themselves, as they necessarily would, than I immediately and resolutely shut them out as one draws the blind to exclude the light. But this exclusion of the world created a dark background which served only to intensify the light that shone upon me from realms unseen of mortal eyes. Lonely I was, yet I was never alone. (Text.)—Mrs. Maybrick, “My Fifteen Lost Years.”

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SOLITUDE, TRAINING IN

A writer tells of a little bird which would not learn to sing the song its master would have it sing while its cage was full of light. It listened and learned a snatch of this, a trill of that, a polyglot of all the songs of the grove, but never a separate and entire melody of its own. Then the master covered its cage and made it dark; and then it listened and listened to the one song it was to sing, and tried, and tried, and tried again, until at last its heart was full of it. Then, when it had caught the melody, the cage was uncovered, and it sang the song sweetly ever after in the light. (Text.)

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Solving Worry—See [Contentment].

Son Conquered—See [Worshiper, A Mother].

Song—See [Praise].

SONG AND HUMANITY

The teacher of music should bear in mind that his subject is related to life in a profound and many-sided fashion. The songs of home and friendship, of religion and patriotism, have no small place in the higher life of humanity. To cite one example: I have been present at a Phi Beta Kappa dinner at Harvard when, at the close, the company of scholars joined hands and sang together Burns’ song of “Auld Lang Syne.” I have heard the same song at a company of ministers at a theological seminary reunion. After the battle of Manila Bay, where the British and American marines fraternized, as the British men-of-war left the harbor, the marines of both nations sang the same song. It was the music of the plowman-poet that best fitted as a parting-song of friendship for the scholar, the theologian, and the marines of two great modern nations. Read the tributes to music of noted men of letters like Carlyle and Newman. See how they have been imprest by this art, which opens into the world of the ear or sound—a word which has its artists and poets, its historians and dramatists, its architects and builders, as the world of letters or of space.—W. Scott, “Journal of the National Educational Association,” 1905.

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SONG AND SUFFERING

It is said of Charlotte Elliott, the author of the “Invalid’s Hymn-book,” that tho she lived to enter her eighty-second year, she never knew a well day. Her sweet hymns, such as “Just as I am without one plea,” were the outpouring of a heart that knew what it was to suffer. Like so many other bards, she “learned in suffering what she taught in song.” (Text.)

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SONG AS A WELCOME HOME

In the mountains of Tyrol it is the custom of the women and children to come out when it is the close of day and sing. Their husbands, fathers and brothers answer them from the hills on their way homeward. On the shores of the Adriatic such a custom prevails. There the wives of the fishermen come down about sunset and sing a melody, listen for a while for an answering melody from off the water, telling that the loved one is almost home. How sweet to the weary fisherman, as the shadows gather around them, must be the songs of the loved ones at home that sing to cheer them, and how they must strengthen and tighten the links that bind together these dwellers of the sea.

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SONG, EFFECTIVE

An African heathen chief from an inland district was passing a mission school in Livingstonia. He heard the children singing their simple parting hymn. He sat down and waited till they came out. Then he asked the teacher “What were these children doing?”

“Singing a hymn,” she replied.

“What is a hymn?” asked the chief; “it has touched my heart. I should like the children of my village taught some hymns.”

There has since been a school established in that chief’s village, and the gospel is reaching the people through the simple messages carried by the children in song and story.

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---

Thirty men, red-eyed and disheveled, lined up before a judge of the San Francisco police court, says The Youth’s Companion. It was the regular morning company of “drunks and disorderlies.” Some were old and hardened, others hung their heads in shame. Just as the momentary disorder attending the bringing in of the prisoners quieted down, a strange thing happened. A strong, clear voice from below began singing:

“Last night I lay a-sleeping,

There came a dream so fair.”

Last night! It had been for them all a nightmare or a drunken stupor. The song was such a contrast to the horrible fact that no one could fail of the sudden shock at the thought the song suggested.

“I stood in old Jerusalem,

Beside the temple there.”

The song went on. The judge had paused. He made a quiet inquiry. A former member of a famous opera company, known all over the country, was awaiting trial for forgery. It was he who was singing in his cell.

Meantime the song went on, and every man in the line showed emotion. One or two dropt on their knees. One boy at the end of the line, after a desperate effort at self-control, leaned against the wall, buried his face in his folded arms, and sobbed, “O mother, mother.”

The sobs cut the very heart of the men who heard, and the song, still welling its way through the court-room, blended in the hush. At length one man protested:

“Judge,” said he, “have we got to submit to this? We’re here to take our punishment, but this—” He, too, began to sob.

It was impossible to proceed with the business of the court, yet the judge gave no order to stop the song. The police sergeant, after a surprized effort to keep the men in line, stept back and waited with the rest. The song moved on to its climax:

“Jerusalem, Jerusalem! Sing for the night is o’er!

Hosanna in the highest! hosanna for ever-more!”

In an ecstasy of melody the last words rang out, and then there was a silence.

The judge looked into the faces of the men before him. There was not one who was not touched by the song; not one in whom some better impulse was not stirred. He did not call the cases singly—a kind word of advice, and he dismissed them all. No man was fined or sentenced to the workhouse that morning. The song had done more good than punishment could have accomplished.

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SONG IN THE NIGHT

Years ago, when the Ocean Monarch was wrecked in the English Channel, a steamer was cruising along in the darkness, and the captain heard a song, a sweet song, coming over the waters, and bearing down in the direction of the voice, he found it was a Christian woman on a plank of the wrecked steamer singing:

“Jesus, lover of my soul,

Let me to thy bosom fly,

While the nearer waters roll,

While the tempest still is high.” (Text.)

(3007)

Song of Cheer—See [Cheer, Good].

Song, Power of—See [Life-line, Hymn].

SONG, THE GOSPEL IN

The ministry of song in modern times has been of incalculable value in spreading the truths of the Word. Speaking of a city-wide revival in Boston, a current news item says:

The city is ringing with revival melodies. Everywhere Mr. Alexander’s songs are being hummed and whistled and sung. A number of revival hymns have been published in the newspapers, and a few days ago two drummers were seated in a train going out of Boston, holding a newspaper before them and singing from it lustily, “Don’t Stop Praying.” A gentleman who happened to be in the same car, which was filled with people, said that he finally approached them and asked them if they were ministers. “Oh, no,” was the reply, “we are just drummers.” In one of the hotels some theatrical women were singing, “He Will Hold Me Fast,” instead of their own songs. These are simply indications of the way in which the gospel songs have permeated the entire city. (Text.)

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Songs Born in Trouble—See [Neglect of Genius].

SONGS THAT ENDURE

George Sylvester Viereck, in “Prisoners of Song,” has these suggestive lines on the immortality of the song:

With rumbling thunder and discordance hideous

The gods and stars shall tumble from the sky,

But beauty’s curve enmarbled lives in Phidias,

And Homer’s numbers can not die.

And when the land is perished, yea,

When life forsakes us and the rust

Has eaten bard and roundelay,

Still from the silence of the dust

Shall rise the song of yesterday!

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SOOT

The Chicago public laboratories recently made tests to determine the amount of soot and dust deposited from the air in that city. The acreage deposit, as estimated from samples collected at eight different heights during a period of four weeks, was, approximately, at the rate of 8.5 tons per acre per year. On the Board of Trade Building, 110 feet above the street level, the estimated annual deposit was 10.5 tons. On the county building, 160 feet above street level, the amount was 7.8 tons, and on the Reaper Block, 120 feet above street level, 12.6 tons. The situation in Chicago is different only in degree from that prevailing in every large city. It would be interesting (and no doubt appalling) to know how many tons of soot enter the lungs of the inhabitants of our large cities.—Good Health.

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Sorrow—See [Suffering Transformed].

SORROW FOR A LOST CAUSE

In reminiscences of her husband, General George E. Pickett, of the Confederate Army, his widow has this to say in regard to the sadness that filled the Southern heart at the close of the unsuccessful war:

He (General Pickett) gave his staff a farewell breakfast at our home. They did not once refer to the past, but each wore a blue strip tied like a sash around his waist. It was the old headquarters flag, which they had saved from the surrender and torn into strips, that each might keep one in sad memory. After breakfast he went to the door, and from a white rose-bush which his mother had planted, he cut a bud for each. He put one in my hair and pinned one to the coat of each of his officers. Then for the first time the tears came, and the men who had been closer than brothers for four fearful years clasped hands in silence and parted. (Text.)

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SOUL A UNITY

The Christian soul is not a department store. It does not advertise songs for Sunday, sharp bargains for Monday, doubts for Tuesday, worldliness for Wednesday, dishonesty for Thursday, compunction for Friday, repentance for Saturday, and then songs again for Sunday. No! The Christian soul is not a fractional mechanism, but an organism. It is fed by the divine sap that flows into it from the true vine. Thus does the glow of its life splendor every service it renders. The rich hues of its godliness vein the whole of its life as a spiritual mosaic.—F. F. Shannon.

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SOUL AND NATURE

The daisy brightening in the shadow of the hedgerow, or strewing the fields as with golden flakes; the trees spreading their whispering roof of tremulous foliage, or holding against the blast their rugged arms, inlocked with a trunk deep-set and rooted; brooks, lapsing or leaping from their summit springs; the ocean, which takes these to itself, without an added ripple on its bays, or an increase of its tides; all sounds, of mirth, or suffering, or fear; the drowsy hum of multitudinous insects; the arrowy song of birds, swifter than wings, aspiring to the skies; all forms and tones of human life; the immeasurable azure which is over us everywhere, brilliant with stars, or flecked with clouds, or made the blue and boundless realm of the victorious sun—all these, and all the visible system which these but partly represent, the soul perceives. It goes out to them, in its observant, inspecting glance. It meets and hears them, if they are vocal, with its attent sense. It apprehends them all, arranges them in their natural and obvious order, assigns to each its place and service, and lives amid them as in a home reared for it and furnitured at the commencement of its being.—Richard S. Storrs.

(3013)

SOUL FLIGHT

A human soul went forth into the night,

Shutting behind it Death’s mysterious door,

And shaking off with strange, resistless might

The dust that once it wore.

So swift its flight, so suddenly it sped—

As when by skillful hand a bow is bent

The arrow flies—those watching round the bed

Marked not the way it went.

Through the clear silence of the moonless dark,

Leaving no footprint of the road it trod,

Straight as an arrow cleaving to its mark,

The Soul went home to God.

“Alas!” they cried, “he never saw the morn,

But fell asleep outwearied with the strife”—

Nay, rather, he arose and met the dawn

Of everlasting life.

(3014)

SOUL, GREATNESS OF THE

The mountain is vast in size and weight. The weary feet clamber over it painfully. It offers homes along its breast to the enterprise which seeks them. Its quarries build palaces, and its woods timber navies. It lifts its crown of snow and ice against the sky, and stands amid the scene a very monarch of earth, primeval and abiding. But the soul can compass that mountain in its thought, without weariness or pain; can take it up and weigh it, in the balances of exact mathematical computation; and spurning it then, as a mere footstool for its activity, can spring from it to that boundless expanse amid which the mountain is less than is the least of the dust grains of the balance to its solid bulk.—Richard S. Storrs.

(3015)

Soul-growth—See [Growth, Unconscious].

SOUL, HARMONIOUS NATURE OF

A harp might conceivably be so framed by its maker that every string, tho rightly tuned and rightly struck, according to the theory and design of the instrument, should emit when touched a separate discord. Or it may be so framed, as we know by experience, that from it shall flow, when fitly swept by an educated hand, the concerted numbers of noble music; inspiring the thoughts with their spiritual force, or suffusing the very air around us with an audible glory, and making it drop benedictions upon us. If the former be the case, we know that the instrument was made without design, or else was made with malicious intent, to mock with pain where it promised to please. Now God has so framed the human soul, in His wise and benevolent ordination of its powers, that each of these powers as normally employed, according to His plan, gives a separate pleasure. If unhappiness comes from them, it is from their wrong use, not from their use; from our perversion, and not from our just employment of them.—Richard S. Storrs.

(3016)

SOUL-MUSIC

During the fame of Ole Bull he played one night before the students of Princeton College. It was a wonderful exhibition. They marveled, as so many had marveled before them, at the strange things which he did with the violin. They heard the birds as they warbled among the trees of the forest; they heard the storms as they hurled their thunders back and forth among the crags of the mountain. Then the tones became so soft and sweet they could almost believe a mother was singing her babe asleep. When he had finished they gathered about him and said, “Tell us the secret.” Ole Bull answered, “It is not in the instrument nor the bow, tho I use the best that money can buy. It is not primarily in the hand that wields the bow, nor the fingers that press the strings. If there is anything to tell, it is this: I never play until my own soul is full. Then the music is the overflow of the musician’s soul.”

(3017)

SOUL QUERIES

Does the road wind up-hill all the way?

Yes, to the very end.

Will the day’s journey take the whole long day?

From morn to night, my friend.

Shall I meet other wayfarers at night?

Those who have gone before.

Then must I knock, or call when just in sight?

They will not keep you standing at the door.

Shall I find comfort, travel-sore and weak?

Of labor you shall find the sum.

—Rossetti.

(3018)

Soul-revival—See [Conversion].

SOUL-SATISFACTION

Ellen Glasgow writes of the contentment of a soul on friendly terms with itself:

Since my soul and I are friends,

I go laughing on my road;

Whether up or down it wends,

I have never felt my load.

(3019)

SOUL-SURGERY

In the corn-field you find the juicy ear overtaken by the deadly fungus. The farmer lifts his knife, and cuts away one-half of the ear, that he may save the sweet corn on the other half. From the prodigal, Jesus cut away his sins, that He might save the boy’s soul.—N. D. Hillis.

(3020)

SOUL, YOUR

A very little girl, having received some dim impression regarding the soul, was asking her mother what it was. “Can you feel the soul, mother; can you hear it?” she asked, and then, “can you see it?” The mother answered that the soul could not be felt or heard, but that sometimes it seemed as if we could see it in the eyes. “Let me see yours,” said the little one, and gazing into the mother’s dear eyes she saw there the tiny image of herself, and exclaimed, “O mother, your soul is a little child!”

It would be profitable to all of us if we would ask ourselves this question, “Is my soul a little child?” (Text.)

(3021)

SOUNDS

Compared with the Western world, with its indescribable hubbub, Korea is a land of the most reposeful silence. There are no harsh pavements over which horses are tugging their lives out, no jostling of carts or dray-wagons, no hateful clamor that forbids quiet conversation, but a repose that is inherent and eternally restful. The rattle of the ironing-sticks is not nerve-racking, but rather serves as a soporific to put all the world to sleep. Apart from this, one hears nothing but the few calls and echoes of human voices. What a delightfully quiet land is Korea! In the very heart of its great city, Seoul, you might experiment at midday in the latest methods of restcure and have all the world to help you.—James S. Gale, “Korea in Transition.”

(3022)

SOWING AND REAPING

Plant blessings, and blessings will bloom;

Plant hate and hate will grow;

You can sow to-day—to-morrow will bring

The blossom that proves what sort of a thing

Is the seed, the seed that you sow. (Text.)

(3023)

SOWING BY SONG

“What shall the harvest be?” the composition of Mrs. Emily Oakey, and as sung by Mr. Sankey, won to Christ and to the gospel ministry the Rev. W. O. Lattimore, long pastor in Evanston, Ill. Young Lattimore joined the army in 1861 a moral youth of eighteen years, but later, a first lieutenant, he fell into drink, becoming a physical wreck. But one day in 1876, in the gallery of Moody’s Tabernacle in Chicago, dazed from drink, the voice of Sankey in this pathetic song aroused in him new emotions, particularly the words:

“Sowing the seed of a lingering pain,

Sowing the seed of a maddened brain,

Sowing the seed of a tarnished name,

Sowing the seed of eternal shame,

O, what shall the harvest be?”

The seed was sown—good seed this time; and from the saloon to which he withdrew, he returned to the Tabernacle, found a Savior, rejoined wife and child whom he had long abandoned, and after a successful pastorate of twenty years, died in 1899—a whole harvest to the seed-sowing of Christian song.

(3024)

SPACE NOT VACANT

The idea that the vast spaces between the sun and the various planets are void and untenanted now belongs only to the history of science. To-day it is known that these spaces are filled with vast swarms of minute, dust-like bodies, each and every one revolving about the sun in vast ellipses, each one being, in fact, a microscopic planet. These bodies make their presence known not only as meteors or shooting-stars, but also by their power to reflect sunlight, and thus produce the peculiar evening glow of the zodiacal light.—Charles Lane Poor, “The Solar System.”

(3025)

Sparrow and Sermon—See [Sermon, Saving a].

Speaking Extemporaneously—See [Tact].

SPEAKING, PUBLIC

To talk to a crowd of 5,000 people—few living speakers know what that means; the expenditure of nervous force, the strain on throat and brain, on body and soul. But Wesley did this, not only every day, but often twice and three times in a day. He did it for fifty years, and the strain did not kill him!

Gladstone’s Midlothian campaign in 1879 is famous in history; but it was confined to a little patch of Scotland; it lasted fifteen days, and represented perhaps twenty speeches. But Wesley carried on his campaign on a scale which leaves Mr. Gladstone’s performances dwarfed into insignificance. He did it on the great stage of the three kingdoms, and he maintained it without a break for more than fifty years!—W. H. Fitchett, “Wesley and His Century.”

(3026)

See [Tact].

SPEAKING TO DO GOOD

A writer in the London Mail has this to say concerning Theodore Roosevelt while in Egypt:

At Cairo he was asked to leave out his reference to the murder of the Prime Minister. “No,” he answered, “that is just what I want to say. If you do not care about it let us call the engagement off.”

There spoke the essential Roosevelt, not the politician, but the preacher. His object in speaking is to do good. To give advice, to stiffen healthy instincts, to strengthen public opinion against meanness and cruelty, to induce every man and every woman to make the best of themselves—those are the essential Roosevelt aims. His style smacks more of the pulpit than the platform.... “If I had been a Methodist,” he once declared, “I should have applied for a license as a lay preacher.” Since then he has obtained his license to preach—but from a greater body than the Methodist Conference. He is preacher-in-general to the whole civilized world.

(3027)

SPEECH

Compare the golden oriole, swinging in the sunshine, and filling the house with flashing melodies, with the infant, moaning in his yet inarticulate speech, that lies beneath! The bird was made for enjoyment first; for work, subordinately. The infant was created for an enjoyment to be realized through fervent operation. The bird has a beauty of the Mind which created him. The gloss upon his breast, and the brilliance on his wings, were put there by God’s pencil. His gushing song warbles a tribute to Him who gave him power to sing. But the child has a struggling capacity within him, as much grander than this as the spiritual and divine are always grander than the physical. He hath in his being the germs of speech. And speech can represent the most delicate feeling. It can set forth the mightiest process of thought. It can furnish an image for all that is conceived. It can take up and interpret the very thoughts of the infinite, translating them into language for the immortals to hear.—Richard S. Storrs.

(3028)

See [Silence and Speech].

SPEECH AND MISSIONARIES

We very frequently disgust people because of our seven-by-nine vocabulary. When the missionaries first went to the Hawaiian Islands it was perfectly proper for them to call the horse the “not pig,” because they knew no horse and the newcomers were obliged to describe a horse in some way; but it is infantile for a missionary in countries where horses are common, because they do not happen to know the word for “horse” and do know the words for “not pig,” to call a horse the “not pig.” There is too much guesswork about that kind of talk, and you offend people by so doing.

Vulgarity of speech is a very common fault with many. We do not realize, perhaps, how our language has been purified, but in most of the missionary countries the language is vile beyond expression. A missionary adopts a word heard because he wants to use the language of the people; and he picks up something that is very greatly soiled. I recall a meeting that was electrified and horrified by a missionary who, in reading a hymn, repeatedly used an obscene word through sheer carelessness.—H. P. Beach, “Student Volunteer Movement,” 1906.

(3029)

Speech and Practise—See [Profession versus Character].

SPEECH, COMMON

John Wesley believed in the people, and one of the chief secrets of his success lay in his power to learn from the masses how to speak to them and influence them. On one occasion he was walking with his scarcely less famous brother, Charles Wesley, the hymn-writer, in a humble street in London, when they came face to face with a crowd of fishwomen who were in a row, and were cursing and swearing in a most excited fashion. Charles Wesley, more timid than his brother, turned to John and said: “Brother, let us go up this other street and escape from this mob.” But John Wesley thought Charles needed more contact with the people, and taking him by both shoulders faced around toward the quarreling women, saying, “You stand there, Charles Wesley, and learn how to preach!”—Everybody’s Magazine.

(3030)

Speech, The Effect of Earnest—See [Earnestness].

Speed—See [Swiftness of Birds].

Speed in Travel—See [Traveling, Progress in].

Speed Increased by Reducing Delays—See [Delay].

Speed, Sensation of—See [Obstacles].

SPEED, THE SECRET OF

In attacking some evils the best way to sweep them down, is often to use our greatest bulk and energy at the outset; as a ship, according to M. C. L. Meyher, moves fastest when the bow is made larger than the stern.

It should be noted in passing that all creatures that are called upon to move rapidly through a fluid are much slenderer behind than before, and it should be added that forms that are too slender in front are quite unsuited for great speeds. This may easily be demonstrated, but would take us too far from our subject for the moment. We should only say that it is difficult to understand why designers so often persist in giving to vessels forms that are more slender in the bow than in the stern, when the contrary should be the case.—Revue Generale des Sciences.

(3031)

Spelling at Fault—See [Illiteracy].

SPHINX, THE

Out of the changeful fury of the tide-rifts streaming by

Wilt build thee, O world, a place of peace, and show God by and by?

Or all the riot of roses and the loves that escape control,

Are they rainbows shed on a melting cloud from the central sun of my soul?

O musical storms and stars, do ye strike wild chords unplanned?

Or is there a master-musician, who leads with uplifted hand?

If a God’s will shape the heavens, is He perfect, boundless, free?

Or feel He the bondage of violent dust? Does He suffer and strive like me?

I know that I never shall answer the riddles that haunt the mind,

I see but a spark of the infinite flame—to all the rest born blind.

Yet envy I not the gazers who boast of their clearer sight;

For safer I walk if I know I am blind, than calling the darkness light.

For all my riddle unanswered, for all my blindness known,

I would rather keep asking the secret than to make it all my own.

I believe that the stir of the questions is the spirit’s ultimate breath.

All life is a passionate question. Wilt thou not answer it, Death?

—Theodore C. Williams, Unity.

(3032)

Spiders and Music—See [Music and Spiders].

Spider as a Barometer—See [Indicator, An Insect].

Spiders, The Value of—See [Balance Preserved in Nature].

SPIRIT AND FORM

Religion may be compared to a banana. The real heart religion is the juicy pulp; the forms and ceremonies are the skin. While the two are united and undivided the banana keeps good until it is used. And so it is with religion. Separate the forms from the spirit, and the one will be of no more value than the banana husk, while the latter will speedily decay and become corrupt, apart from the outward expression.—Arthur T. Pierson.

(3033)

SPIRIT, FRUIT OF

How beautiful on paper are the flowers delineated in many a seedman’s catalog, but what disappointment sometimes ensues when it is found that their actual growth comes far short of the printed description! It is never so with the fruits of the Spirit, of which Paul gives a list. All the grace described in his catalog brings forth glory that answers fully to the promise. The divine Spirit never disappoints and the grace of God can not fail. (Text.)

(3034)

Spirit Manifestation a Power—See [Consistency].

SPIRIT MORE THAN BODY

One of America’s prominent astronomers is only four feet high, and would hardly outweigh a boy of ten years. But there are few who could outweigh him in intellect and achievement. Alexander H. Stephens, with a dwarf’s body, did a giant’s work. With only a broken scythe, by sheer force of will and work, he overmatched in the harvest those who had fine mowing-machines.

(3035)

SPIRIT, THE SPARK OF

Recently, I visited Fort Monroe and was taken through those interesting barracks. An officer pointing out a great gun said to me, “With that we could tear to pieces yonder wall of stone and destroy many lives thousands of yards away.” A friend standing near said, “Not so, that gun in itself is powerless.” “Oh,” the officer exclaimed, “of course, we must first place the powder and the shell in it, and then the disastrous work will be done.” The reply was made, “All of your guns and powder and shell are absolutely powerless to make any impression in themselves. There is one thing lacking.” “Yes,” he said, “but a spark of fire would hurl forth the missile of death and bring about the great destruction.” We may have big guns in the pulpit, and in the pew, we may have the finest machinery and external equipment; but unless we have the fire of the Spirit we can never shatter the strongholds of Satan and bring in the reign of our spiritual King.—H. Allen Tupper.

(3036)

SPIRIT, WINDS OF THE

Many a pilgrim has been lost in the world’s deserts. A wanderer who had lost his bearing in a wilderness, altho he had in his hand a compass, knew not whether its needle pointed toward a place of rest and refreshment, or only to a spot where he might lie down in despair.

He sank down on the arid sand. But presently a green leaf was wafted close to his feet. On seeing that it was perfectly green and fresh, he reasoned that it must have come from some not distant place where water, shade, and food could be found, and of course the breeze indicated the right direction. Facing the wind he soon discovered an oasis where he quenched his thirst at a spring.

So the promises from the word of God, fresh with the dew of the Spirit of life, flutter to us on what seems to be the chance currents of life. Often thus when our hearts are weary, and joy has faded, and hope is weak, we are encouraged with revived strength and are made to understand which way to turn.

(3037)

Spirit’s Permanence—See [Record, Living].

Spirit’s Presence, The—See [Presence of God].

SPIRITS, WATCHING

The influence exerted by belief in invisible presences is illustrated by Mr. Lafcadio Hearn, who says that it is extremely difficult for a Western mind to apprehend the full meaning of ancestor-worship as a family religion, and cites as the nearest parallel the nature of the old Greek piety:

Each member of the family supposes himself or herself under perpetual ghostly surveillance. Spirit eyes are watching every act; spirit ears are listening to every word. Thoughts, too, not less than deeds, are visible to the gaze of the dead; the heart must be pure, the mind must be under control, within the presence of the spirits. Probably the influence of such beliefs, uninterruptedly exerted upon conduct during thousands of years, did much to form the charming side of Japanese character. (Text.)

(3038)

SPIRITISTIC PHENOMENA

In an article on apparitions written by Andrew Lang, in the second volume of the “Encyclopedia Britannica,” ninth edition, he says:

“The writer once met, as he believed, a well-known and learned member of an English university who was really dying at a place more than a hundred miles distant from that in which he was seen.”

To determine whether or not it was a case of mistaken identity is very important, but no opportunity is given in the passage quoted. If it was a subjective impression, the coincidence would be curious and nothing else; and not more so than many coincidences in trifles, and many other circumstances absolutely disconnected, and many subjective impressions without any coincidences. Mr. Lang refers to the superstitious horror shown by a dog at the moment of a supposed apparition to his master. That the dog exhibited horror when his owner thought he saw an apparition may be readily believed. Any one familiar with dogs knows that nothing will terrify them more than a great appearance of alarm on the part of their masters without any visible cause. Of the same nature is the remark concerning the mysterious disturbances at the house of the Wesleys. “The mastiff was more afraid than any of the children.” The volatile imagination of children have never shown any great horror of the mysteries; they were sustained, too, by confidence in their parents. But the dog heard mysterious noises, which naturally greatly agitated him. Many persons fancy that mysterious noises that will appear to respond to questions, to make raps or answer raps, conclusively prove that they are directed by intelligence. Sometimes they may, and the intelligence is quite likely to be of human origin; but the noises of atmospheric, chemical, or electrical origin may furnish astonishing coincidences, just as the fissures in the rocks are extremely difficult to be distinguished from hieroglyphics. Some years ago an alphabet based on the spiritualistic alphabet was applied to the successive gusts of wind of a stormy autumn day, and the coincidences were astonishing. Whole sentences of a very significant character at times appeared to respond to the arbitrary standard. And in any case the conclusion that a noise, the cause of which is not yet understood, must be supernatural is a process of reasoning ab ignorantia.—J. M. Buckley, Century.

(3039)

Spiritual Culture—See [Appreciation, Spiritual].

SPIRITUAL DECLENSION

“Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing” issued from the consecrated genius of Robert Robinson, a native of Norfolk, England, who was converted under Whitefield’s powerful preaching, and himself became a minister of the gospel.

It was while on a stage journey once, in company with an unknown lady passenger, that he heard her begin singing the above lyric to divert her attention, when he said to her: “Madam, I am the unhappy man who wrote that hymn many years ago; and I would give a thousand worlds if I had them, if I could feel as I felt then.” (Text.)

(3040)

Spiritual Development—See [Moods of the Spirit].

SPIRITUAL GUNNERY

After carefully loading his gun for the kind of game which seems to require his immediate and special attention, the spiritual gunner should be sure to take particularly good aim at it. A good aim is an essential to success. The gunner who aims at nothing in particular, who closes both eyes and fires at random, will hit nothing in particular, unless it be by accident, and will receive no commendation for his skill. In fact, he is very apt to hit what he does not wish to hit, and what he will do more harm than good by hitting. Again, in these days sin and sinners—the game the spiritual gunner is after—are so uncommonly lively that they must be hit on the wing, if hit at all. The spiritual gunner must, therefore, learn to aim accurately at “arm’s length,” and quickly. If he trusts to a “dead rest” aim, the game will be very apt to get out of range before his gun goes off, and his work and ammunition will both be wasted—and that is not creditable to a gunner. Long-range shooting should also be avoided, and the gunner should quietly work his way as near as possible to his game and fire at the shortest possible range. A well-loaded gun, fired at short-range and with steady aim, will generally hit the mark and do execution.—The Evangelist.

(3041)

---

The spiritual gunner who has a reasonably fair appreciation of his important and responsible business will not try to use the same kind of gun for all kinds of game. He will adapt his gun to the kind of game he has specially in view, and he will always have in view game of some kind if he is anxious to become “a mighty hunter before the Lord.” He will not bring out a loaded Armstrong, or Columbiad, or Gatling for very small game and reserve his smallest arms for game of the largest and most dangerous kind if he wishes to bear home any trophies of his working skill. Every professional gunner—every pulpit gunner especially—who wishes to do efficient work will not only have large guns and small guns ready loaded, where he can lay his hands on them at once, but will know just when and how to use each kind. He will also be careful not to use kicking guns and overloaded guns, which always do a great deal more harm to those behind them than they do to those just in front. A gun that shoots straight ahead without much scattering, instead of backward or sideways, that is well aimed, and that carries true to its aim, is the only gun for the spiritual hunter, whether it be large or small.—The Evangelist.

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SPIRITUAL NOBILITY

A touching tribute to one of nature’s noblewomen appeared in the Pall Mall Gazette:

She walks unnoticed in the street.

The casual eye

Sees nothing in her fair or sweet.

The world goes by

Unconscious that an angel’s feet

Are passing nigh.

She little has of beauty’s wealth,

Truth will allow;

Only her priceless youth and health,

Her broad, white brow;

Yet grows she on the heart by stealth,

I scarce know how.

She does a thousand kindly things

That no one knows.

A loving woman’s heart she brings

To human woes,

And to her face the sunlight clings

Where’er she goes.

And so she walks her quiet ways

With that content

That only comes to sinless days

And innocent.

A life devoid of fame or praise,

Yet nobly spent. (Text.)

(3043)

SPIRITUAL PERTURBATION

After Bunyan’s marriage the record of the next few years is like a nightmare, so terrible is his spiritual struggle. One day he feels himself an outcast; the next the companion of angels; the third he tries experiments with the Almighty in order to put his salvation to the proof. As he goes along the road to Bedford he thinks he will work a miracle, like Gideon with his fleece. He will say to the little puddles of water in the horses’ tracks, “Be ye dry”; and to all the dry tracks he will say, “Be ye puddles.” As he is about to perform the miracle a thought occurs to him. “But go first under yonder hedge and pray that the Lord will make you able to perform a miracle.” He goes promptly and prays. Then he is afraid of the test, and goes on his way more troubled than before.

After years of such struggle, chased about between heaven and hell, Bunyan at last emerges into a saner atmosphere, even as Pilgrim came out of the horrible Valley of the Shadow. Soon, led by his intense feelings, he becomes an open-air preacher, and crowds of laborers gather about him on the village green. They listen in silence to his words; they end in groans and tears; scores of them amend their sinful lives.—William J. Long, “English Literature.”

(3044)

Spiritual Power the True Estimate—See [Measurement, Spiritual].

SPIRITUAL VALUES

Jesus asked, “How much is a man better than a sheep?” Here are some estimates:

The deepest needs of the world are spiritual needs. One man invested $100,000 in India. It resulted in the conversion of 50,000 in that district—one soul saved for every two dollars invested. Christ’s standard of greatness was service. On the Kongo a man’s value is estimated in cattle; on the Hudson, in social standing; but by the river of life, by what he is, and the standard is helpfulness.

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SPIRITUALITY, RATIONAL

On some clear evening when the stars shrink back before the pathway of the ascending moon, and night is almost transformed to day, we are moved to admiration and pleasure; yet all this attractive light, focused to the smallest compass, could not dissolve the most delicate petal of frost or melt the tiniest snowflake.

Such is science without sentiment, the intellect without the heart, religion without spirituality. But on the other hand, the true church is one which combines both; which is purely rational, yet deeply religious; which is perfectly tolerant and catholic; which yet extends its fraternal hand to the needy, opprest, and downtrodden of every class; which is bound to no creed whatsoever, but is genuinely, rationally, vitally spiritual.—George C. Cressey.

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SPRING AS TYPE OF LIFE

When I am gone, somehow I hope that spring

Will typify my life, my optimism,

My hope of victory through the years,

My nerve of step, my clear and visioned eye.

The early flowers, the robins singing in

The rain (may they not sing since they have wings?),

The increasing light, the slowly opening buds,

The almond blooms, the trees in vernal dress

Are like the silver crown upon my head:

A prophecy of heaven’s summer time.

Yes, when I die, it shall be springtime then

Of my great immortality.

When I am gone, let men say, He was always young;

Not even Sorrow, with his ruthless plow;

Nor base ingratitude, nor brothers false,

Nor slander’s venomed tooth, nor poverty,

Could rend rude furrows in his springlike soul

That soon arrayed itself with lovely vines

And fragrant flowers that added beauties new

To one who, ripe in years, knew not old age.

—Western Christian Advocate.

(3047)

SPRINGS FROM GOD

You remember the masonry in Prospect Park (Brooklyn), built to hold that huge bank in its place? Well, when that solid wall was completed, a hidden spring broke out, and the walls moved and cracked. Pulling the masonry down a second time, it was again rebuilt. This time a little drain tube and faucet were put in. But the mouth became stopt up, and a second time the pressure of the hidden waters moved the wall. Then another tube and pipe were put through the wall. What was the power that put such immeasurable pressure upon masonry and moved it? It was the hidden water—silently, steadily, irresistibly, crowding all before it. To-day the hidden waters may manifest themselves through one tube, and to-morrow they may gush through another tube, but the power is in the water and the reservoir behind it, and not in the tube through which it appears. And that power that lifted the Hebrew slaves and swept them forward and buoyed them up, now revealed itself through the lips of Moses, and now speaks through the life of Joshua, transforming the people, is not in Moses, nor in Joshua, it is in God.—N. D. Hillis.

(3048)

---

Salvation is by character, but character is the gift of God. Far up on the northeastern coast of Maine there is a little spring; through all the hours of a sunny afternoon it poured its crystal flood that ran singing toward the sea. Then, the briny sea turned to a salt the spring. The waves with their bitterness came in and buried it, and the sweet water seemed lost forever. Then in the eastern sky God hung His orb of light, and silently by that invisible pull, and with its secret voice it called to the waves of salt, and drew back the briny flood with its mire and filth, that ebbed away, and lo, the little spring flowed on, fed by the pure fountains on the hillside far above the ocean’s brine. And the soul’s life comes down from the mountains, where its hidden springs are in God. Aspiration, hope and love gush on forever pure. Temptations may rise, like the tide. Troubles, ingratitudes and hatreds may sweep on like hungry waves, the world may cast up its mire, but soon these troubles will recede, and leave the spring of life within the soul, to gush forth once more. It is the river of God, the well that springs up into everlasting life.—N. D. Hillis.

(3049)

SPRINGS OF LIFE

In ancient pagan religions there was a peculiar sacredness attached to running water in springs or rivers. The famous oracle of Delphi was beside the Castalian spring; and in the haunted grotto of Egeria, inspired by the murmurs of its beautiful fountain, the first king of Rome received from the celestial nymph the laws and the religious rites which he imparted to the primitive community. Rivers in prehistoric times were everywhere worshiped; shrines were erected on their banks, and they had priests of their own. Men swore by them, for the spirit of the waters could drown those who proved false to their word; and the most awful form of oath is that which the Hindu still takes who swears by a divine river more sacred even than the Ganges—of which the Ganges is only an earthly manifestation. The office of the Hebrew prophets received its name in the original from a root signifying the bursting forth and the overflowing of a copious fountain. As the spring bursts forth from the heart of the rock in full flood, so the inspiration of God bursts forth from the heart of the prophet. This origin of the name would indicate that springs and rivers were at first chosen as the medium of a divine revelation—The Quiver.

(3050)

Spurious Virtue—See [Pretense].

Stage to Pulpit—See [Evangelism, Unusual].

STAGNANCY

Sailors tell us that there is a dead spot in the Caribbean Sea. It lies midway between Carthagena in Columbia and Kingston, Jamaica. It is out of the track of steamers and the action of the great currents going one way and another has left a space of stagnant water without any real movement at all. Anything that gets into “the dead spot” is apt to stay there unless driven out by some big storm, and will simply drift round and round, gathering sea-grass and barnacles.

Is there not “a dead spot” in the sea of life, a place out of the currents of earnest activities where souls drift and gather worthless accretions? (Text.)

(3051)

STAINS

The three ghosts on the lonesome road

Spake each to one another,

“Whence came that stain about your mouth

No lifted hand may cover?”

“From eating of forbidden fruit,

Brother, my brother.”

The three ghosts on the sunless road

Spake each to one another,

“Whence came that red burn on your foot

No dust nor ash may cover?”

“I stamped a neighbor’s hearth-flame out,

Brother, my brother.”

The three ghosts on the windless road

Spake each to one another,

“Whence came that blood upon your hand

No other hand may cover?”

“From breaking of a woman’s heart,

Brother, my brother.”

“Yet on the earth clean men we walked,

Glutton and Thief and Lover;

White flesh and fair it hid our stains

That no man might discover.”

“Naked the soul goes up to God,

Brother, my brother.”

—Theodosia Garrison, Zion’s Herald.

(3052)

STANDARDS

For measuring a base line (in calculating a parallax) metal bars or rods are used. These are carefully compared in the laboratory with the standards and their lengths at a definite temperature determined. Unfortunately, when these rods are taken into the field for actual use they are exposed to constantly varying temperatures, and they expand and contract in a very troublesome way. Various devices have been used to eliminate the errors thus introduced, the simplest and best being the Woodward “ice-bar apparatus” used by the Coast and Geodetic Survey. In this the metal measuring-bar is supported in a trough and completely packed in ice, and thus maintained at the uniform temperature of 32 degrees Fahr. With such an apparatus a base line can be measured with an error of only a fortieth of an inch in a mile, or one part in two and a half million.—Charles Lane Poor, “The Solar System.”

(3053)

See [Excellence is Comparative].

Standing by the Ship—See [Loyalty].

Stars and Stripes, Disrespect to the—See [Patriotism, Lack of].

Stars Converting a Skeptic—See [Converted by the Comet].

Stars, Gate of the—See [Gate, The, of Stars].

State, The, More Than the Individual—See [Representative Dignity].

STATESMAN ON MISSIONS

In visiting India, Hon. Charles W. Fairbanks, former vice-president of the United States, took pains to aline himself with the Christian missionary movement in that country. In a public address he said: “I believe the greatest influence to-day—I speak from the standpoint of a layman but with measured utterance—is the Christian religion. The largest progress made in America has been under the influence of men who have been profound believers in the Bible and its thoughts. And what I say of America may also be said of other Christian nations; the experience of one is the experience of another. I wish to express my profound admiration—it goes beyond mere respect—for the workers in the great missionary field. I have seen many a work; I have seen the rich, abundant harvest they have gathered and are gathering. They are evangels of a new order of things. They are doing much to knit the peoples together, and have earned their right to the gratitude of mankind for their noble self-sacrifice.”

(3054)

STATESMANSHIP

The Manchester Guardian, in an editorial on the one hundredth anniversary of Gladstone’s birth (December 29), had the following fine appreciation of the great statesman’s international spirit:

To him the line of State boundaries formed no limit beyond which the writ of conscience ceased to run. He held national duties to be as sacred as personal duties, and judged national honor by the same standard as personal honor. From the debate on the opium war in 1840 to the last speech on behalf of the dying Armenians in 1896, Gladstone maintained this ideal in the face of Europe. He could not always carry it through against his own colleagues in government. No man at the head of affairs can have his way in all things; but he closed his public career by resigning office rather than associate himself with an increase of armaments which he judged unnecessary, and therefore injurious to the cause with which his name is indelibly associated.

(3055)

STATIC PROGRESS

Life is not always by motion; sometimes it is improved by waiting. The boat in the lock stands still in order to be lifted higher.

(3056)

Stationary Lives—See [Marking Time].

Stationary, The Effect of Things—See [Influence].

Statistics, Divorce—See [Divorce].

Statistics of Churches—See [Church Statistics].

Statistics of Sunday-schools—See [Sunday-school Statistics].

Statues, The Value of—See [Beautiful, Influence of the].

Stature and Situation—See [Disproportion].

Stature not Greatness—See [Greatness].

STEADINESS OF PROVIDENCE

In a poem, “The World Runs On,” Edmund Vance Cook, in The Independent, thus expresses the calm steadiness of God’s providences:

So many good people find fault with God,

Tho admitting He’s doing the best He can,

But still they consider it somewhat odd

That He doesn’t consult them concerning His plan.

But the sun sinks down and the sun climbs back,

And the world runs round and round its track.

Or they say God doesn’t precisely steer

This world in the way they think it best,

And if He would listen to them, He’d veer

A hair to the sou’ sou’west by west.

But the world sails on and it never turns back

And the Mariner makes never a tack.

So many good people are quite inclined

To favor God with their best advices,

And consider they’re something more than kind

In helping Him out of critical crises.

But the world runs on, as it ran before,

And eternally shall run evermore.

So many good people, like you and me,

Are deeply concerned for the sins of others,

And conceive it their duty that God should be

Apprised of the lack in erring brothers.

And the myriad sun-stars seed the skies

And look at us out of their calm, clear eyes. (Text.)

(3057)

STEADY WORKING

Among the country boys who pick berries there are two kinds: one keeps steadily picking through thick and thin, moving only when there are no berries in sight; and the other one runs about looking for the places where berries are thick. But the boy of the first kind is the first one to fill his pail.

(3058)

STEDFASTNESS

It was the standing of Jackson’s brigade so firmly as to attract the attention of a Confederate officer at Bull Run that led the soubriquet to be applied to him of “Stonewall” Jackson. (Text.)

(3059)

---

Be firm! One constant element in luck

Is genuine, solid, old Teutonic pluck;

See yon tall shaft; it felt the earthquake’s thrill,

Clung to its base, and greets the sunrise still.

—O. W. Holmes.

(3060)

STEPS UPWARD

When one is climbing a mountain whose lofty peak he has long admired from a distance there is an arduous ascent and one with many steps to be made; but how good and wholesome is the way. The path which winds through grassy meadows, the bridge which crosses the rushing stream pouring down from the heights, the slow and toilful ascent, repaid by the purer air and the rarer flowers and the wider vision, over obstacles, and then, at last, the height itself, different from the rest only in this, that it is the culmination! There can be no Parnassus without the steps that lead to it.—George Clark Coe.

(3061)

Stewardship—See [Claim, God’s].

STICKING TO IT

A friend, a former colleague of mine, told me that he was, many years ago, traveling up to London with an owner of race horses who was accompanied by his trainer. When they arrived at the station near the metropolis where the tickets are collected, the ticket-collector came, and my friend said, “My servant has my ticket in the next carriage.” The ticket-collector retired and presently came back rather angry and said, “I can not find him.” My friend said, “He is in the next carriage—or the next carriage but one; he is there.” As soon as the ticket-collector retired for the second time the trainer leaned forward and said, “Stick to it, my lord, you will tire him out.”—Lord Herschell.

(3062)

STIGMATA

Francis, Duke of Guise, bore the common name of Le Balafré, or “The Scarred.” In a skirmish with the English invaders he received a wound the most severe from which any one ever recovered. A lance entered above the right eye, declining toward the nose, and piercing through on the other side, between the nape and the ear. The weapon was broken off, a part remaining in the dreadful wound. The surgeon took the pincers of a blacksmith and tore out the barbed iron, leaving a frightful scar which was shown as a signal badge of honor.

When Thomas tested the wounds of the risen Savior he cried, “My Lord and my God.”

(3063)

Stimulus—See [Opposition]; [Social Christianity].

STIMULUS FROM RIVALRY

Social rivalry brings its rich compensations. It is so with the international rivalry. America and Australia at this moment are sending into this country (England) corn, meats, fruits, and our farmers declare that they are being ruined. But the fact is men have to be ruined that they may be made over again, and fashioned on a grander pattern. Our husbandmen will be compelled to put away all droning; they must go to school again, they must invent new methods, they must adopt new machines, sow choicer seeds, breed superior cattle; they must grub up the old canker-eaten, lichen-laden orchards, and plant fresh fruit-trees of the best varieties. The pressure of the times will lift the national husbandry to a higher plane. And this international rivalry will have the same stimulating effect on city life.—W. L. Watkinson, “The Transfigured Sackcloth.”

(3064)

Stomach Contraction—See [Adaptation].

Stones, Comparing—See [Common Things].

Stored Energy—See [Reserve Power].

STORY, THE POWER OF THE OLD

Do you remember the story of Paul Du Chaillu, the great African traveler, in the heart of the Dark Continent? On one occasion he told the “old, old story” to a poor slave woman; then he went on his way and forgot all about the incident. He came back a few months later to that town and the slave-traders had just made a raid on it. In the fight this woman was injured. She sent for him and he went to see her. As he knelt down beside her, she said, “Tell it again.” “Tell what again?” he said. “Oh, tell me that story again.” Then once more he told her the old, old story of Jesus and His love. As he finished it, she said to him, “Is it true?” “Yes,” he replied, “it is true.” “Do your people believe that?” “Yes, they believe that.” “Oh,” she said, “tell them to send us that story a little faster.”—A. S. Wilson, “Student Volunteer Movement,” 1906.

(3065)

STRAIGHT CHARACTER

“Is he straight?”

“Straight as a gun-barrel. You can depend upon him in every spot and place.”

This was said of a boy who had asked for a place and had given as a reference the gentleman who made this firm reply.

How straight is a gun-barrel? In the factory where guns are made the metal is rolled and prest and ground and polished until the most practised eye can not detect the slightest curve in it anywhere. Not until it is so can it be permitted to go out of the factory. Over and over again it must be tested and tried until it is as perfect as men and machines can make it. If the gun-barrel were not straight, no one ever could hit what he aimed at; the bullet could not help flying wide of the mark.

And hitting the mark is the thing. “Straight” is a homely word, but it is full of the deepest meaning. No one can ever reach his aim, be it ever so high, unless he always does the true, manly thing. One little mean, underhanded act, and his life may be marred forever. The world wants men who are straight. (Text.)—Edgar L. Vincent, The Visitor.

(3066)

STRAIN, NERVOUS

Jack Tattersall, the wireless man of the steamship Baltic, which went to the aid of the Republic on January 23, 1909, is said to have sat at his key for 52 hours. In relating his experience he said:

It wasn’t the actual work that bothered me, you know. That’s not so difficult.

No; it’s the awful nervous strain of striving, always striving, to get the message right, when half a dozen gigantic batteries are jerking flashes to you at the same time, drowning each other out, pounding in your ears, making the night seem to swarm with sparks before your eyes. That’s what gets on a man’s nerves; that’s what makes you next to insane. I hardly knew what to do, with the Republic signaling me, faintly, so faintly that I could not make out whether they were saying, “We are sinking,” or “All safe.” (Text.)

(3067)

STRATAGEM BY BIRDS

A gentleman had a fine setter-dog who was accustomed to take his daily bone, with due allowance of meat adhering, to the lawn to enjoy at his leisure. On one occasion he observed several magpies planning to get a share of the dainty. They quietly approached the dog and placed themselves one at the head, about two feet from the animal, who was too busy to notice them, a second near the tail, and one or two by his side. When all were placed, the bird near the dog’s tail gave a sudden nip to that member. The dog, of course, wheeled to catch the offender, who fled, while his hungry comrades rushed to the bone, hastily snatching what they could. The fleeing magpie led the outraged dog to some distance, drawing him on by fluttering as if injured, without really taking flight.—Olive Thorne Miller, “The Bird Our Brother.”

(3068)

STRATAGEM TO ESCAPE ENEMIES

One of his (the fox’s) favorite tricks is to cross over deep water on thin ice just strong enough to bear him, knowing that in all probability the hounds will break through, and perhaps be swept under the ice if the current is strong enough. More than one valuable dog has been drowned in this manner, but I have never known a fox to miscalculate the strength of the ice and break through himself. If the stream is not wholly frozen over, he runs along at the very edge of the deep water, where the ice is thin and treacherous, until he comes to a place where he can jump across to the thin ice that reaches out from the opposite bank.—Witmer Stone and William Everett Cram, “American Animals.”

(3069)

STRATEGY

The best strategy in life is frequently to take advantage of an enemy’s mistakes.

In Mark Twain’s “Autobiography,” in the North American Review, is General Grant’s own opinion in regard to the inception of Sherman’s march to the sea.

“Neither of us originated the idea of Sherman’s march to the sea. The enemy did it,” said Grant.

He went on to say that the enemy necessarily originated a great many of the plans that the general on the opposite side gets the credit for. In this case, Sherman had a plan all thought out, of course. He meant to destroy the two remaining railroads in that part of the country, and that would finish up that region. But General Hood made a dive at Chattanooga. This left the march to the sea open to Sherman, and so, after sending part of his army to defend and hold what he had acquired in the Chattanooga region, he was perfectly free to proceed with the rest of it through Georgia. He saw the opportunity, and he would not have been fit for his place if he had not seized it.

(3070)

---

Grant was always aggressive. It was not possible with him that retreat, or any inaction could form any part of his program. But while the campaign from Culpepper to Cold Harbor was boldly, even daringly, offensive, it was so conducted that in nearly every conflict the enemy was obliged to become the attacking party; and this plan of campaign against Lee recalls this colloquy between two Roman generals: “If thou art a great general come down and fight me.” “If thou art a great general make me come down and fight thee.” And it will be observed that four times out of five—for the army had fought on five distinct lines—Grant, by a single march, had made Lee come down and fight him.—Nicholas Smith, “Grant, the Man of Mystery.”

(3071)

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This is the fable of a spider as quoted from Blackwood’s Magazine:

A spider, it seems, had occasion to borrow a sum of money. A journey round to the generously disposed brought him two thousand cowries each from the cat, the dog, the hyena, the leopard, and the lion. When pay-day came round, the spider remained at home to receive the visits of the creditors in a certain prearranged order. First came the cat to claim repayment of his loan. “Hush!” said the spider. “I hear a noise outside—it is a dog come to see me; you must hide under this calabash for safety.” The cat was scarcely hidden when the dog, coming in, made a similar request for his money. Says Master Spider, “There is a cat under that calabash; take him, and consider the debt paid.” No sooner said than done. Just then a snuffling and scraping were heard at the door. The third creditor, the hyena, had arrived. “Don’t be alarmed, my dear dog, but hide here till he has left,” and the spider bustled him under the calabash. “I smell a dog,” said the hyena, routing about. “Under that calabash,” the spider replied. “Eat him up, and your debt is paid.” The dog paid the penalty of his simplicity, and all was quiet once more. The hyena was preparing to leave, when he heard an ominous sound that sent him crouching against the wall. It was the pattering of the leopard’s feet at the door. “Quick! Under this calabash,” cried his host, and the hyena curls up in the fatal cache, only to meet a like fate from his more courageous enemy. “My debt is repaid!” said the leopard, and ran against the lion coming in. A terrible fight ensued, for the leopard and the lion are equal in strength, so the natives say. While blood and dust make havoc in the house, and both animals are exhausting their strength, the spider is busy at the fire. Seizing a pot of boiling grease, he pours it over the clawing mass. Leopard and lion roll apart in their death agony, and the spider has only to straighten and clean up before resuming once more the humdrum life of fly-catching.

(3072)

Strategy of Enemies—See [Subtlety Among Animals].

STRATEGY, SOCIAL

Not all the strategy of life is on the fields of diplomacy or war.

An official tells a good story of the time when Hamilton Fish was Secretary of State. It had been said that Mrs. Fish sometimes carried her high ideas of courtesy too far—that it was Quixotic.

One of her rules, for instance, was to return every call she received. Her husband was continually holding public receptions, and to these, out of courtesy, many women would come who had no desire that Mrs. Fish should call upon them—who were in no position to receive her properly if she did call.

One such woman attended a Fish reception, left her card, and a little later was duly honored by a call from Mrs. Fish. The Fish equipage dashed down the narrow street and halted before the woman’s shabby little house. The footman opened the carriage door and Mrs. Fish descended.

The poor woman of the house was in a dreadful predicament. She was, alas, kneeling on the sidewalk beside a bucket of hot water. Her sleeves were rolled back. She had a scrubbing-brush in one hand and a cake of soap in the other. She was scrubbing the front steps.

Bending graciously over her, Mrs. Fish asked politely:

“Is Mrs. Henry Robinson at home?”

And Mrs. Henry Robinson replied: “No, mum, she ain’t,” and went on scrubbing.

(3073)

Streams, Living and Dying—See [Early Promise].

STRENGTH

William Herbert Hudnut writes this virile advice for New Year’s time:

Quit you like men, be strong;

There’s a burden to bear,

There’s a grief to share,

There’s a heart that breaks ’neath a load of care—

But fare ye forth with a song.

Quit you like men, be strong;

There’s a battle to fight,

There’s a wrong to right,

There’s a God who blesses the good with might—

So fare ye forth with a song.

Quit you like men, be strong;

There’s a work to do,

There’s a world to make new,

There’s a call for men who are brave and true—

On! on with a song!

Quit you like men, be strong;

There’s a year of grace,

There’s a God to face,

There’s another heat in the great world race—

Speed! speed with a song!

(3074)

STRENGTH FROM RESISTED EVIL

In general, every evil to which we do not succumb, is a benefactor. As the Sandwich Islander believes that the strength and valor of the enemy he kills passes into himself, so we gain the strength of the temptation we resist.—Philadelphia Ledger.

(3075)

Strength of the Weak—See [Weakness and Strength].

STRENGTH, SECRET SOURCE OF

Numa Pompilius, the second and the wisest King of Rome, was accustomed to retire to the forest, and receive wisdom and instruction from the goddess Egeria—who met him in secret—and then came forth to triumph in government and over his enemies. (Text.)

(3076)

STRING, THE NEED OF MORE THAN ONE

Thomas K. Beecher tells a story of finding his father’s old fiddle in the garret, where on a rainy day he had taken some children to play. It was all covered with dust and had only one string. And Mr. Beecher held it up to the children and told them how he used to hear his father play on it the old tunes, “Merrily, Oh,” and “Pompey Ducklegs.”

Of course, they cried “Play on it. Play the old tunes.” “I can not,” he said, “for it has only one string.” When he tried it he could only pick out with three notes a tune. Then he said, “If it had two strings, I could play six tunes, and if it had not only a G string, but a D string and an A string, and an E string, I could play all the tunes. You can not play real music with one string.”—N. McGee Waters.

(3077)

Stress and Storm Gains—See [Adversity].

Striving—See [Strain, Nervous].

STRONG AND WEAK

The idea of the big ones swallowing up the little ones, or the idea of the trusts, is not by any means confined to land, as we may see from reading the following:

As the sea covers three-fifths of the surface of the globe, its fauna is similarly greater than the living forms on land. When a naturalist inspects a little pool not larger than a billiard-table which is filled by the splashing waves of the Mediterranean, he finds it teeming with more varied and busy forms of life than can be found in a square mile of ordinary land. But in all that living marine world there is not a trace of goodness! All fishes are murderers and cannibals, and as in fresh water big trout relish eating small trout, so, in the wider waters of the ocean, wo to the small fry when a larger father or brother catches sight of them!

Science has boldly penetrated these dark, still abysses and finds that they abound with life. But such life! Many of the abysmal forms have large, movable jaws with rows of teeth all pointing backward, making escape impossible when once any creature is caught by them. The scientists of the Challenger were once puzzled to make out what a thing was which came up in their trawl, until it proved to be a fish caught by a smaller fish who was swallowed by its larger brother by gradually pulling itself glove fashion over its victim by means of barbed teeth—somewhat like a child being slowly swallowed alive by a large expanding toad. In those black depths some forms have phosphorescent lights not unlike burglars’ dark-lanterns, with which to hunt their prey.

Only among those animals which originally used to tread the solid earth and then took to the sea, like the whale, seal, and walrus, is there any sign of any falling off in all-devouring selfishness; these are mammals, and hence show affection for their young. But they live where they have to encounter the hideous swordfish, or their own relative who has been transformed into the cruel grampus, and so must fight for life.—W. Hanna Thomson, M.D., Everybody’s.

(3078)

Strongest Quality Cultivated—See [Advantage, Working to the Best].

STRUGGLE

Contending with the globe, we are like Jacob wrestling with the angel. The fight is long and hard amid the mystery and the darkness, and the great Power seems reluctant to bless us; but the breaking of the day comes, and we find ourselves blest with corn, wine, oil, purple, feasts, flowers. Ah! and with gifts far beyond those of basket and store—ripened intelligence, self-reliance, courage, skill, manliness, virtue. Of course, man suffers in the conflict, as the patriarch did. When we see the farm laborer bent double with rheumatism, or the collier mutilated by the explosion in the mine, or the grinder with his lung gone, or the weaver with his enfeebled physique, or the seaman prematurely old through his battle with wind and wave, or any of the million workers who carry pathetic signs of the arduousness of toil, we see the limp of the victorious wrestler. In the South Seas the natives lie on their backs and the bread-fruit drops into their mouths. But these make a poor show in the grand procession of the ages.

The law of life is truly severe which enjoins that man shall eat bread in the sweat of his face, but in this struggle for life our great antagonist is our great helper; we are leaving barbarism behind us; we are undergoing a magnificent transformation; we are becoming princes of God and heirs of all things.—W. L. Watkinson, “The Transfigured Sackcloth.”

(3079)

See [Adversity].

STRUGGLE AND GROWTH

Life in crystals can be explained by the struggle for existence, which is ardent even here. In fact, if during their growth two crystals come into contact, the weaker will completely disappear, absorbed by the stronger.—Revue Scientifique.

(3080)

STUDY OVERDONE

When I see a morning procession of pallid schoolboys staggering to school under a load of text-books almost too heavy to be held together by the strap that encircles them, or a bevy of young girls, bound on the same educational errand, more pallid and more exhausted by the eight or ten pounds of torture in the shape of grammars, dictionaries, geographies, arithmetics, geometries and philosophies, they, too, tug along the streets, I wish their piles of knowledge might be reduced one-half, for I can not but feel that with fewer books there would be more culture, that too many studies produce too little scholarship, and that the intellect which is forced will rarely be expanded.—James T. Fields.

(3081)

Style—See [Personal Element in Literature].

SUBCONSCIOUS ABSORPTION

Coleridge relates in his “Literaria Biographia” that in a Roman Catholic town in Germany a young woman who could neither read nor write was seized with a fever, during which, according to the priests, she was possest by a polyglot devil. For she talked Latin, Greek, and Hebrew, besides uttering sounds which, tho not understood by her hearers, had doubtless, meaning, but belonged to languages unknown to them. “Whole sheets of her ravings were written out,” says Coleridge, “and were found to consist of sentences intelligible in themselves, but having slight connection with each other.” Fortunately, a physician who, being skeptically inclined, was disposed to question the theory of the polyglot spirit, “determined to trace back the girl’s history. After much trouble he discovered that at the age of nine she had been charitably taken by an old Protestant pastor, a great Hebrew scholar, in whose house she lived till his death. On further inquiry, it appeared to have been the old man’s custom for years to walk up and down a passage of his house, into which the kitchen opened, and to read to himself in a loud voice out of his books. The books were ransacked, and among them were found several of the Greek and Latin fathers, together with a collection of rabbinical writings. In these works so many of the passages taken down at the young woman’s bedside were identified that there could be no reasonable doubt as to their source.”—Prof. Richard A. Proctor, New York Mail and Express.

(3082)

Subjects a Necessity—See [Fame, Qualifying for].

SUBSTANCE AND SHADOW

When Elihu Root was about to enter the Roosevelt Cabinet as Secretary of State, a friend wrote to him: “Why not wait three years and get the substance instead of taking the shadow now?” in allusion to the presidency. Mr. Root replied: “I have always thought that the opportunity to do something worth doing was the substance and the trying to get something was the shadow.”

(3083)

SUBSTANCES, PENETRATING

Scientific men declare that there is no barricade like snow. A bullet fired from a distance of fifty yards will not penetrate a wall of snow a few feet thick, but the same missile passes through dense earthworks and shatters trees when discharged from a much greater distance. A bag of cotton is a much more efficient resistant than a steel plate. A swordsman can cut a sheep in two at a stroke, but he is baffled at once if he seeks to cut through a pillow of fine feathers. (Text.)

(3084)

SUBSTITUTION

The following incident, related by Edward Gilliat, illustrates the truth of Christ bearing our sins:

Louis XIII, finding the Brittany fleet too weak to attack La Rochelle, had ordered the Mediterranean galleys to pass through the Straits of Gibraltar. M. de Gondi put out to sea, but left ten galleys at Marseilles to be equipped and made up to their full numbers. But there were not enough galley-slaves to fill up the places, so prisoners from ordinary prisons were drafted in to serve on the galleys.

Among these latter Vincent de Paul noticed one young man who was sobbing and crying piteously. He asked him the cause of his misery, and was answered, “It is because I am leaving my wife and little children in great poverty; and now who will work for them? I have not deserved so great a punishment for my slight offense against the law.” The chaplain made further inquiries, found that the slave had spoken the truth, but, as the galley was on the point of starting, he could not get him reprieved. There was only one thing to be done; it was not lawful, but pity mastered prudence. He somehow managed to exchange places with the galley-slave, got himself chained to the seat, and sent off the prisoner in his soutane. He was not recognized until some time afterward, and hastened to leave Marseilles, as his biographer says, “more ashamed of his virtue than others of their vice.”—“Heroes of Modern Crusades.”

(3085)

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More than eighty years ago a fierce war raged in India between the English and Tippoo Sahib. On one occasion several English officers were taken prisoners. Among them was one named Baird. One day the native officer brought in fetters to be put upon each of the prisoners, the wounded not excepted. Baird had been severely wounded and was suffering from pain and weakness.

A gray-haired officer said to the native official, “You do not think of putting chains upon that wounded man?”

“There are just as many pairs of fetters as there are prisoners,” was the answer, “and every pair must be worn.”

“Then,” said the noble officer, “put two pairs on me. I will wear his as well as my own.” This was done. Strange to say, Baird lived to regain his freedom, and lived to take that city; but his noble, unselfish friend died in prison.

Up to his death he wore two pairs of fetters. But what if he had worn the fetters of all the prisoners? What if, instead of being a captive himself, he had quitted a glorious palace, to live in their loathsome dungeon, to wear their chains, to bear their stripes, to suffer and die for them, that they might go free, and free forever? (Text.)

(3086)

Substitution Unacceptable—See [Vicarious Salvation Impossible].

Subterfuges—See [Reasons versus Excuses].

SUBTLETY

The fer-de-lance is found on the islands of Martinique and Santa Lucia. The basis of its gruesome reputation seems to be the fact that it does not warn the intruders of its haunts after the manner of the cobra or the rattlesnake, but flattens its coils and with slightly vibrating tail, awaits events.

If the unsuspecting traveler should show no sign of hostile intent he may be allowed to pass unharmed within two yards of the coiled matadore, but a closer approach is apt to be construed as a challenge, and the serpent, suddenly rearing its ugly head, may scare the trespasser into some motion of self-defense. He may lift his foot or brandish his stick in a menacing manner. If he does, he is lost. The lower coils will expand, bringing the business end, neck and all a few feet nearer; the head points like a leveled rifle, then darts forward with electric swiftness, guided by an unerring instinct for the selection of the least-protected parts of the body. (Text.)

(3087)

SUBTLETY AMONG ANIMALS

It is said that when wolves meditate an attack upon the wild horses of the Mexican plains they are very subtle in their maneuvers. First, two wolves come out of the woods and begin to play together like two kittens. They gambol about each other and run backward and forward. Then the herd of horses raise their frightened heads in readiness for a stampede. But the wolves seem to be so playful that the horses, after watching them a while, forget their fears and continue to graze, at perfect ease in their eating. Then the wolves, in their play, come nearer and nearer, while other wolves slowly and stealthily creep after them. Then suddenly the enemies encircle the herd, and with one lunge the doomed horses are in the pitiless grasp of the wily foe. They desperately fight a losing battle as the fierce brutes sink their fangs in the horses’ throats.

In a similar way evil companions seek to lay a snare for those whom they would entrap.

(3088)

SUCCESS

It often turns out that our apparent successes are really our undoing. Croake James tells this incident:

I was mightily delighted with the whim I was shown on a sign at a village not far from this capital, tho it is too serious a truth to excite one’s risibility. On one side is painted a man stark naked, with this motto: “I am the man who went to law and lost my cause.” On the reverse is a fellow all in tatters, looking most dismally with this motto: “I am the man who went to law and won my cause.” (Text.)—“Curiosities of Law and Lawyers.”

(3089)

---

A Nebraska woman won a prize of $250 for this essay on “What Constitutes Success,” written in competition with many others:

He has achieved success who has lived well, laughed often and loved much; who has gained the respect of intelligent men and the love of little children; who has filled his niche and accomplished his task; who has left the world better than he found it, whether by an improved poppy, a perfect poem or a rescued soul; who has never lacked appreciation of earth’s beauty or failed to express it; who has always looked for the best in others and given them the best he had; whose life was an inspiration; whose memory a benediction.

(3090)

SUCCESS AND CIRCUMSTANCES

I remember Thackeray saying to me, concerning a certain chapter in one of his books that the critics agreed in accusing of carelessness: “Careless? If I’ve written that chapter once, I’ve written it a dozen times—and each time worse than the last!” a proof that labor did not assist in his case. When an artist fails it is not so much from carelessness—to do his best is not only profitable to him, but a joy. But it is not given to every man—not, indeed, to any—to succeed whenever and however he tries. The best painter that ever lived never entirely succeeded more than four or five times; that is to say, no artist ever painted more than four or five masterpieces, however high his general average may have been, for such success depends on the coincidence, not only of genius and inspiration, but of health and mood and a hundred other mysterious contingencies.—Sir John Millais, Magazine of Art.

(3091)

SUCCESS BY EXPERIMENTATION

A few years ago the cotton-boll weevil, which had increased steadily from year to year, reached a point at which it destroyed in Texas over $30,000,000 worth of cotton in one season. Many men in southern Texas were bankrupted, cotton-planting was given up in certain places, and it looked as if this great wealth-producing industry were doomed in Texas and probably also in time over the entire South. The practical farmers were completely overwhelmed. Here the Department of Agriculture started three lines of experimentation; first, to find some other harmless insect or parasite that would destroy the boll weevil as the white scale had been destroyed in California; second, to develop a species of cotton that could resist weevil attack; and third, to find a method of cultivation that would lessen the injury of the attack of the weevil when made. The ants, which the department brought from South America to eat up the boll weevil, proved a failure, but the development of a better method of cultivation and the use of better adapted varieties of cotton proved so successful that Texas farmers now, following the methods worked out by the department investigators, again raise their magnificent crops of cotton, in spite of the boll weevil.—The Evening Post.

(3092)

SUCCESS FROM LABOR

“Paradise Lost” was finished in 1665, after seven years’ labor in darkness. With great difficulty Milton found a publisher, and for the great work, now the most honored poem in our literature, he received less than certain verse-makers of our day receive for a little song in one of our popular magazines. Its success was immediate, tho, like all his work, it met with venomous criticism.

The work stamped him as one of the world’s great writers, and from England and the Continent pilgrims came in increasing numbers to speak their gratitude.—William J. Long, “English Literature.”

(3093)

SUCCESS IN FAILURE

Success Magazine appropriately publishes these lines:

There is no failure. God’s immortal plan

Accounts no loss a lesson learned for man.

Defeat is oft the discipline we need

To save us from the wrong, or teaching heed

To errors which would else more dearly cost—

A lesson learned is ne’er a battle lost.

Whene’er the cause is right, be not afraid;

Defeat is then but victory delayed—

And e’en the greatest vic’tries of the world

Are often won when battle-flags are furled.

(3094)

See [Failure Leading to Success].

SUCCESS INSPIRES CONFIDENCE

Because Paul Armstrong in five days wrote “Alias Jimmy Valentine,” a New York success, another play, as yet unread by Liebler & Co., has been accepted by that firm. The exact conversation confirming this business deal is worthy of recording because of the brevity of it. Mr. Armstrong called at the office of the managers just as Mr. George C. Tyler, the managing editor, was getting ready to leave for Rochester, where “A Certain Party” was to open.

“I have written a play,” said Mr. Armstrong.

“What is it called?” asked Mr. Tyler.

“It has no name,” said the author.

“How long did it take you to write it?” asked Mr. Tyler.

“Four days,” said Mr. Armstrong. “I wrote it in a day’s less time than ‘Jimmy Valentine.’”

“I’ll accept it,” said Mr. Tyler, and shook hands on the bargain.—Philadelphia Enquirer.

(3095)

SUCCESS TOO DEAR

Judge Baldwin, of Indiana, it is said, in giving his advice to lawyers upon one occasion, told them that the course to be pursued by a lawyer was first to get on, second to get honor, and third to get honest. A man who follows that policy, in my judgment, is not such a lawyer as should be let loose in politics. (Text.)—George M. Palmer.

(3096)

Success, Ultimate—See [Experiment].

SUFFERING

Oberlin, the illustrious pastor of the Ban de la Roche, used the following figure in comforting the sorrow of an afflicted lady:

Dear madam, I have now before me two stones; they are alike in color, they are of the same water, clear, pure and clean. But there is a great difference between them; one has a dazzling brightness, the other is quite dull. What is the reason of this difference? The one has been carefully cut, the other hardly touched. Now, had these stones been endowed with life, so as to have been capable of feeling what they underwent, the one which had received eighty cuts would have thought itself very unhappy, and would have envied the fate of the other, which, having received but eight, had undergone but a tenth part of its own sufferings. Yet the stone which had suffered little is dim and lusterless; the stone which has suffered greatly shines forth in dazzling brilliancy.

(3097)

SUFFERING, FELLOWSHIP WITH CHRIST’S

John B. Tabb expresses the requirement laid on true disciples of Jesus, in this verse:

In patience, as in labor, must thou be

A follower of me,

Whose hands and feet, when most I wrought for thee,

Were nailed unto a tree. (Text.)

—The Independent.

(3098)

SUFFERING FOR LOVE

He who for love has undergone

The worst that can befall,

Is happier thousandfold than one

Who never loved at all.

A grace within his soul has reigned

Which nothing else can bring;

Thank God for all that I have gained

By that high suffering.

—Lord Houghton.

(3099)

Suffering Ignored—See [Heartless Pagans].

Suffering that Develops—See [Adversity Helping Genius].

SUFFERING TRANSFORMED

Christ teaches us how, under the redemptive government of God, suffering has become a subtle and magnificent process for the full and final perfecting of human character. Science tells us how the bird-music, which is one of nature’s foremost charms, has arisen out of the bird’s cry of distress in the morning of time; how originally the music of field and forest was nothing more than an exclamation caused by the bird’s bodily pain and fear, and how through the ages the primal note of anguish has been evolved and differentiated until it has risen into the ecstasy of the lark, melted into the silver note of the dove, swelled into the rapture of the nightingale, unfolded into the vast and varied music of the sky and the summer. So Christ shows us that out of the personal sorrow which now rends the believer’s heart he shall arise in moral and infinite perfection; that out of the cry of anguish wrung from us by the present distress shall spring the supreme music of the future. (Text.)—W. L. Watkinson, “The Transfigured Sackcloth.”

(3100)

SUFFERING TURNED TO SONG

In Edinburgh when they were celebrating the life of Dr. George Matheson, the blind preacher, Robertson Nicoll said that he was the greatest Scotsman since Thomas Chalmers. Divide that statement in two in the middle, and you still have a great man. At twenty the youth left a surgeon’s office, with these words echoing in the porches of the ear, “Better see your friends quickly, for soon the darkness will settle, and you will see them no more forever.” Then his biographer tells us that the youth went on with his studies, by listening while others read or recited. Had Matheson been able to read early church history, he would have been a great scholar. Had he been able to read the story of the thinkers and system-builders, he would have been a great philosopher. But the greatest thing he ever did, it seems, was in life. We are told that there came a day when his visions dissolved, and he realized that he must go alone across the years. The storm tore down the perfumed vines that were climbing about the doorway of man’s soul. And the vine suffered grievously. But the youth coerced his lips to silence, went apart and hid himself for a day. When he came out it was with suffering turned to song. What will they celebrate as the blind preacher’s greatest achievement, in that memorial service in Edinburgh? Listen to the exploit of a faith-man, singing in the hour when love dwells amidst her ruins:

O Love that will not let me go,

I rest my weary soul in thee;

I give thee back the life I owe

That in thine ocean depths its flow

May richer, fuller be.

—N. D. Hillis.

(3101)

SUFFERING UNIVERSAL

In the great earthquake which a large part of California experienced all animate nature suffered. For hours after the principal shock domestic animals manifested the utmost terror. Cattle lowed continuously; dogs barked long and lustily; cats crawled away and hid, and remained in hiding a large part of the day; and when they finally came forth, would crawl along crouching with bodies nearly touching the ground. Even the following night their fear had not left them. During the first half of the night we listened to a continuous chorus of howls and barkings, in which every dog in the city joined. About midnight the dogs ceased and the roosters took up the fear-inspired chant. It seemed as if every chicken in the city and surrounding country had joined this nocturnal orchestra, whose members scarcely stopt to take breath.

In driving along the road, the writer noticed a large flock of barn-swallows around a small mud-puddle in the middle of the road. As they alighted they kept their wings extended straight up in the air and fluttering, while they drove their bills almost fiercely into the mud. A bystander explained that all their nests had been shaken down and they were rebuilding. To them calamity had come in the loss of their nests, their eggs, and mayhap their little ones. This little indication of common suffering made the feathered family seem much closer to the human. (Text.)

(3102)

Suffering, Unnecessary—See [Help Unrecognized].

Suffrage, Woman—See [Retort, A].

SUGGESTION

A few years ago in a certain part of England the weather was so continuously beastly—that’s the term they used—that at last, wearying of looking at the barometers day after day, week in and week out, the entire inhabitants of a certain seaport town, in sheer disgust, gathered up their weather-glasses and dumped them into the old junk shops. Both the weather and the barometers flooded them with disagreeable suggestions. They could not do away with the weather, but they could with their barometers that seemed to serve no better purpose than to accentuate their discontent.—Robert MacDonald.

(3103)

---

Sometimes a word or phrase will do in literature what a sketch will do in charcoal, defining a character and suggesting a whole line of possibilities. An instance of this is in the following from Everybody’s Magazine:

After a certain jury had been out an inordinately long time on a very simple case, they filed into the court-room, and the foreman told the judge they were unable to agree upon a verdict. The latter rebuked them, saying the case was a very clear one, and remanded them back to the jury-room for a second attempt, adding, “If you are there too long I will have to send you in twelve suppers.”

The foreman, in a rather irritated tone, spoke up and said: “May it please your honor, you might send in eleven suppers and one bundle of hay.”

(3104)

See [Negative Teaching].

Suggestion, Unhealthy—See [Talking and Sickness].

SUICIDE PREVENTED

Some time since a young man who had spent his substance in riotous living was reduced to poverty. He wandered away from home, and being unable to support himself, he resolved upon self-destruction. He filled his pockets with lead, and, determined to drown himself, went to the river. Deciding to wait until dark, he was attracted by a light in the window of a house at no great distance, and went to it. The people were singing hymns. He listened at the door until a chapter from the Bible was read and prayer was offered to God. When the prayer was ended he knocked at the door and was admitted. The passage under consideration that evening was, “Do thyself no harm.” When the services were concluded the stranger asked them how they came to know his thoughts, for he had not mentioned his intention. The members of the meeting were equally surprized, as they had never before seen him. The young man then told them his design of taking his life and how he had been prevented. He became an eminent Christian. (Text.)

(3105)

SUMMER IN THE HEART

Springtime may lose its freshest tints,

And autumn-leaves their gold.

The bitter blast and snowy wreath

May sweep across the wold;

But the years are full of splendors

That never will depart,

For they shed eternal fragrance

When there’s summer in the heart.

The shadows linger on the earth,

The sunbeams hide away;

The sad mists fold their chill white hands

About the face of day;

The tumult and the rush of life

Sound ay in street and mart;

But they can not drown life’s music

When there’s summer in the heart.

The city towers are crumbling fast,

And totter to their fall;

The ivied castle on the height

Shows many a ruined wall;

But men build eternal buildings

With strange and wondrous art;

They are shrines for the immortals

When there’s summer in the heart.

—Montreal Star.

(3106)

Sun The, as a Witness—See [Tests].

SUN, THE BUSINESS OF A

I remember walking in Switzerland, late in the evening in a raging thunder-storm. The darkness could be felt as well as the rain. Little points of light now and then by the roadside attracted my attention. On stopping to examine, there was a glowworm whose little flame had hollowed out of the immensity of darkness a small sphere of light, into which the grasses bent, all beaded with crystal drops. A most exquisite picture. Shelley speaks of a “glowworm golden in a dell of dew.” To go back to our camp-fire: After supper I stept down to the shore of the lake and there, far across its invisible surface, gleamed a little point of light. I knew that other campers were making themselves comfortable and happy in the little sphere of light and warmth which their fire had hollowed out of the all-embracing darkness.

Now, that precisely is the business of a sun. It is nothing more or less than a great fire built, as only God knows how, for the purpose of hollowing out of the eternal darkness and cold of space a sphere of light and warmth large enough for a group or family of worlds to live in. The sun is as purely a mechanical contrivance as your household fire. In fact, it is just that. Our sun is the family hearth, in whose light and heat our group of worlds live as in a home.—James H. Ecob.

(3107)

SUNDAY DESECRATION BY CHRISTIANS

Many years ago in Kyoto, Japan, the question was asked me, “Are there many Christians in America?” You can imagine how pathetic it was. I said, “Why do you ask that question?” My questioner was a fine, handsome, educated man, one of the finest of the Japanese type. He said, “Some years ago I became a Christian. I kept the finest store in Kyoto, as the tourists thought. I had gathered a great quantity of old relics from the temples and the homes that are so scarce now in Japan. I always used to keep my store closed on Sunday, but many Americans and Englishmen and Germans came through here and said, ‘If you can not open your store for us on Sunday, we will not trade with you, as we have to leave on Monday.’ By and by I had to keep my store open.” He has kept it open ever since, and he added, “My neighbor, the shoemaker, is a Christian, and keeps his store shut all the time on Sunday.” I suppose the reason was that there was not a large demand for Japanese shoes on the part of American and English travelers. That is a genuine touch of human nature.—Edward B. Sturges, “Student Volunteer Movement,” 1906.

(3108)

See [Sabbath, Observing the].

Sunday Habit, A Bad—See [Lying Around].

SUNDAY NEWSPAPERS

When Dr. Charles J. Young, pastor of the Church of the Puritans, New York, was waited upon by a lady reporter of a secular journal, for a snappy article on the subject of Sunday newspapers, this is what she got:

“As a matter of fact,” said Dr. Young, “I actually believe in the Ten Commandments as divine enactments, and this is how I feel about it: Suppose you invite me as a friend to dine at your house and I accept. You would make special preparation for my coming. It is woman’s way to give her best where she gives her confidence and friendship. So there you have a rich repast all ready against my coming. Now imagine my stopping at a street corner on the way to your home and gorging myself from the peanut-stand of the noble Roman who deals out his wares to all who come without a care of the consequences; I ask this common-sense question: What condition would I be in to enjoy your luscious viands, and what kind of courtesy or appreciation would this be for all your kindness in preparing for me? Well, my friend, you see the application of this without my making it. There across the street stands the house of the dearest Friend I have ever had. One day out of seven He invites me there to meet with Him and to commune with Him and to receive from Him such supply as He has especially provided and adapted to my hungry, needy, immortal soul. I ask again, is it consistent with a spiritual worship, is it conducive to a devotional mind, is it either courteous to God or just to myself, if on the morning of that sacred day I fill my thoughts with the secularities, the commercialisms, the gossips, the scandal, the general excrescences of every-day rough-and-tumble life in this mammon-loving age?

“My interviewer was silent for a surprizing length of time. Maybe I was wrong, but I fancied she looked up from the floor with a moistened eye and said in a quivering voice: ‘I have never thought of this view of the matter before, and I confess I am able now to see but one fair answer to your question: It can not be.’”—Sunday-school Illustrator.

(3109)

SUNDAY RECORDED

Rev. Egerton R. Young tells of a big Indian chieftainess who came to see him one day. Her people lived a fortnight’s journey away, but she had heard of the paleface and his wife, who, with their wonderful Book, had come to live down among the Saulteaux. She did not believe what she heard but she came to find out. Her curiosity and her desire to learn were both insatiable. She would talk morning, noon and night. At last she was returning, satisfied that what the paleface said was true and determining to go back to pray to the true God. Mr. Young said to her, “Now, if you are going back to live as a Christian, you must keep one day in seven as God’s day. Do not attend to worldly matters on that day, but worship God.” He gave her a sheet of paper and told her each day to make a mark so | until there were six of them | | | | | |, and then to make a big heavy mark I, and when that day came, to leave the gun and the rifle quiet in the wigwam. He told her to work hard on Saturday, to get enough food for Sunday, so she could be free to think about the Great Spirit and pray to the living Father.

Five months later Mr. Young made his first visit to the tribe of this great chieftainess, and she drew from her bosom a soiled, greasy paper, on which was the record of the days as he had bidden her to keep them, and she knew just how many days more must be counted before the next “praying day” should come. (Text.)

(3110)

Sunday Rules—See [Pew, If I Were in the].

SUNDAY-SCHOOL IN EARLY DAYS

I have a very definite picture of my own grandmother, when quite advanced in years, patiently teaching one or two illiterates to spell and to read, in the Sunday-school of an Episcopal church in a little country village in Vermont, where she was then residing; and as late as 1837 one object of the Sunday-school Society of Ireland was “to supply spelling-books and copies of the Scriptures” to the various Sunday-schools of the island. In fact, most of the early work was the teaching of reading and morality, and the Sunday-school was a sort of mission school among the unfortunate, the vicious, and the illiterate. Others did not attend, and it was only by very definite effort that the change to the present status was finally brought about. I remember hearing an army officer say that as late as 1845, in central New York, where he then resided as a boy of some twelve years of age, he was soundly whipt by his father because he had exprest his unwillingness to attend one of the “ragged schools”—as the Sunday-schools in his vicinity were then called; and he added that his impressions of the low caste of the school were so definite that he took his whipping like a man and without complaint.—James H. Canfield, “Proceedings of the Religious Education Association,” 1904.

(3111)

Sunday-school Missionary Work—See [Boys’ Missionary Efforts].

SUNDAY WORK DISCONTINUED

Over four years ago the Chicago and Northwestern Railway Company decided to carry no more Sunday excursions; to run only such Sunday freight trains as were necessary to carry live stock and certain perishable goods; and to stop all Sunday work in freight-yards and sheds for twelve hours every Sunday.

There was great opposition to this action. A boycott was threatened by brewers and other shippers, while the adverse criticisms were abundant and scathing.

The last annual report of this railway gives striking endorsement as to the success of this policy of reduction of Sunday business. We are informed that the financial profits of the roads have increased 100 per cent during these four years; also, that last year not one life was lost on the whole line covering several thousand miles, with its many fast express, mail and freight trains; and there are practically no complaints from shippers and receivers of freight as to delays for cars, or delivery of goods.—The Christian Statesman.

(3113)

See [Sabbath, Observing the].

SUNLIGHT AND STARLIGHT

There is a Sun of Righteousness, before whose shining all the lesser human lights are dimmed, as starlight by the sunshine.

The extinction of “starlight” in the daylight is not due to the vapors of the atmosphere, but to the stronger vibrations of sunlight, which prevent our eyes perceiving the weaker vibrations of the starlight, exactly as a stronger sound, say a cannon-shot, prevents us from hearing a smaller noise, say a mouse piping; or, as is well known, a larger disturbance in water extinguishes a smaller one. The smaller noise, the smaller sound waves, and the smaller light vibrations are not perceived by our senses when the greater impressions or disturbances occupy them. (Text.)

(3114)

SUNDAY-SCHOOL STATISTICS

From the United States “Bureau of Census” Bulletin 103 are taken the following statistics of Sunday-schools in the continental United States:

Of the 178,214 Sunday-schools conducted by church organizations, 165,128, or 92.7 per cent., are returned by the Protestant bodies; 11,172 or 6.3 per cent. by the Roman Catholic Church and 1,914, or 1.1 per cent., by the remaining bodies.

Among the Protestant bodies, the Methodist bodies rank first, with 57,464 Sunday-schools, or 32.2 per cent. of the total, and the Baptist bodies come next with 43,178 or 24.2 per cent. of the total the two families together reporting considerably more than one-half the entire number of denominational Sunday-schools. If to these be added the Presbyterian bodies, with 14,452 Sunday-schools, the Lutheran bodies with 9,450, and the Disciples or Christians with 8,078, the 5 bodies combined report 132,622 Sunday-schools or nearly three-fourths (74.4 per cent.) of the entire number and more than four-fifths (80.3 per cent.) of all those reported by Protestant bodies.

(3112)

Sunday School, The, As a Seed—See [Needs, Meeting Children’s].

SUNDAY-SCHOOLS IN THE UNITED STATES

DENOMINATION	ORGANIZATIONS REPORTING SUNDAY-SCHOOLS		SUNDAY-SCHOOLS REPORTED		SUNDAY-SCHOOL OFFICERS AND TEACHERS		SUNDAY-SCHOOL SCHOLARS
	Number	Per ct. of total	Number	Per ct. distri-bution	Number	Per ct. distri-bution	Number	Per ct. distri-bution
All denominations	167,574	79.0	178,214	100.0	1,648,664	100.0	14,685,997	100.0
Protestant bodies	156,437	80.0	165,128	92.7	1,564,821	94.9	13,018,434	88.6
Adventist bodies	2,078	81.5	2,242	1.3	14,286	0.9	69,110	0.5
Baptist bodies	41,165	75.0	43,178	24.2	323,473	19.6	2,898,914	19.7
Christians (Christian Connection)	1,136	82.4	1,149	0.6	10,510	0.6	72,963	0.5
Church of Christ, Scientist	550	86.2	551	0.3	3,155	0.2	16,116	0.1
Congregationalist	5,327	93.2	5,741	3.2	75,801	4.6	638,089	4.3
Disciples or Christians	7,901	72.2	8,078	4.5	70,476	4.3	634,504	4.3
Dunkers or German Bapt. Brethren.	866	78.9	1,223	0.7	10,789	0.7	78,575	0.5
Evangelical bodies	2,454	89.6	2,549	1.4	32,113	1.9	214,998	1.5
Friends	846	73.8	887	0.5	7,735	0.5	53,761	0.4
German Evangelical Synod of N. A.	1,086	90.1	1,111	0.6	12,079	0.7	116,106	0.8
Independent churches	826	76.6	922	0.5	6,732	0.4	57,680	0.4
Lutheran bodies	8,682	68.3	9,450	5.3	83,891	5.1	782,786	5.3
Mennonite bodies	411	68.0	439	0.2	5,041	0.3	44,922	0.3
Methodist bodies	55,227	85.4	57,464	32.2	569,296	34.5	4,472,930	30.5
Presbyterian bodies	13,048	84.1	14,452	8.1	176,647	10.7	1,511,175	10.3
Protestant Episcopal Church	5,211	76.1	5,601	3.1	51,048	3.1	464,351	3.2
Reformed bodies	2,345	90.7	2,588	1.5	38,710	2.3	361,548	2.5
Unitarians	358	77.7	364	0.2	3,592	0.2	24,005	0.2
United Brethren bodies	3,777	87.8	3,870	2.2	42,169	2.6	301,320	2.1
Universalists	596	70.4	600	0.3	6,585	0.4	42,201	0.3
Other Protestant bodies	2,547	68.9	2,669	1.5	20,693	1.3	162,380	1.1
Roman Catholic Church	9,406	75.4	11,172	6.3	62,470	3.8	1,481,535	10.1
Jewish congregations	561	31.7	600	0.3	2,239	0.1	49,514	0.3
Latter-day Saints	1,036	87.5	1,169	0.7	18,507	1.1	130,085	0.9
Eastern Orthodox Churches	7	1.7	7	[14]	10	[14]	509	[14]
All other bodies	127	16.6	138	0.1	617	[14]	5,920	[14]

[14] Less than one-tenth of 1 per cent.

SUNS, THE SIZE OF

How large are some of our neighbor suns? Alpha Centauri, our nearest neighbor, with its double sun, gives twice as much light as we receive; great Sirius equals sixty-three of our suns; the Pole Star eighty-six. “Think of an eighty-fold sun. However, some are still more astonishing: Vega blazes with the light of three hundred and forty-four suns; Capella with the light of four hundred and thirty; Arcturus with the light of five hundred and sixteen, while mighty Alcyone, the glorious center around which we all, suns and worlds, are supposed to circle, blazes with the light of twelve thousand of our suns!” If our little sun can boast of a family with worlds of such beauty and greatness as Venus and Earth and glorious Saturn and mighty Jupiter, how shall we measure the number, the splendor and the magnitude of the worlds which circle about such centers as Sirius, Vega, Capella, Arcturus and Alcyone?—James H. Ecob.

(3115)

SUNSHINE

The sunshine of Persia forms one of its greatest attractions. The natives are very much alarmed when an eclipse of the sun takes place, as they are afraid they are going to lose their benefactor. A Persian gentleman once visited England, and on his return to his native country was questioned by his friends as to which was the better land to live in. His reply was to the effect that in England the houses were grander, the scenery more beautiful, but that there was no sunshine.

A worldly life may have more show, but the Christian life has more shine. (Text.)

(3116)

SUNSHINE IN THE CHURCH

On Mount Sinai, in a noted convent, is the chapel of the Burning Bush. A feature of this chapel is a window so situated that the sun shines through it only on one day in every year.

But the church that would really light human life must have sunshine in all its windows every day in the year.

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SUNSHINE, SCATTERING

During the “cotton famine” in Lancashire, England, in 1865, just after our civil war, one of the mill-owners called his operatives together and told them he must close the mills. It meant poverty to him and ruin to them. Flickering hope sank in black despair. Presently a delicate, sweet girl, thin and pale with suffering—she was a Sunday-school teacher—started and sang two stanzas of this hymn:

Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take,

The clouds ye so much dread,

Are big with mercy, and shall break

In blessings on your head.

Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,

But trust Him for His grace;

Behind a frowning providence,

He hides a smiling face.

A sunburst of hope came over the despairing company when the touching and comforting strain was ended. It proved a prophecy. The proprietor determined to struggle on a while longer, and soon the mill was running again at full work.

(3118)

See [Cheer, Signals of].

Sunstroke, Warding Off—See [Protection].

SUPERIOR MEN

Without the presence of the superior man, the “paradise of the average man,” as this country has been called, would become a purgatory to all those who care chiefly, not for success, but for freedom and power and beauty. One of the greatest privileges of the average man is to recognize and honor the superior man, because the superior man makes it worth while to belong to the race by giving life a dignity and splendor which constitute a common capital for all who live. The respect paid to men like Washington and Lincoln, Marshall and Lee, Poe and Hawthorne, affords a true measure of civilization in a community.—Hamilton Fish Mabie.

(3119)

SUPERIORITY OF POSITION

In Java sitting down is a mark of respect; in the Mariana Islands the inferior squats to speak to a superior who would consider himself degraded by sitting in the presence of one who should be objectively as well as figuratively “below” him. The punctilios relating to the fundamental rule that rank is defined by elevation are carried to absurdity in the Orient. When an English carriage was procured for the Rajah of Lombok, it was found impossible to use it because the driver’s seat was the highest, and for the same reason successive kings of Ava refused to ride in the carriages presented to them by ambassadors. In Burmah, that a floor overhead should be occupied would be felt as a degradation, contrary to civilized ideas that the lower stories are the most honorable. In Siam, on the principle that no man can raise his head to the level of his superiors, he must not cross a bridge if one of higher rank chances to be passing below, and no mean person may walk upon a floor above that occupied by his betters.—Garrick Mallery, Popular Science Monthly.

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SUPERSTITION

There is a man named Uonosuke Yamamoto, whose daily vocation for fifty years has been to gather up and to sell at a high price all the dust which is left in the Kannon temple in Asakusa by the thousands of visitors who daily go there to worship.

The superstitious purchasers sprinkle small patches of this dust in front of their own doors, believing it will bring them blessings and immunity from plague and famine.

(3121)

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The rude and unread of past ages have always connected natural phenomena with supernatural agencies, adoring the sun and the moon with altar fires on high places and in groves, of which the witches’ Sabbath was a fancied descendant; and even in the twelfth century there were remnants of these forms in the fire-worship supposed to be led by old women, one of whom was called the night-queen, and who, as old women will, cherished traditions and forms to such an extent that the bishops were finally ordered to have them watched. It was but a little more than three hundred years ago when it was generally believed that the appearance of a huge comet was the work of Satan, and its disappearance was the work of the Church. Perhaps we have not left all these follies quite behind us yet. People who nowadays make a wish at the first sight of the evening star, expecting to receive the thing wished for, who are particular about seeing the new moon, not through glass, and with silver in their pockets, and who hold that the position of the slender horn signifies either a dry month or a wet one, as it may be—such people have hardly any right to call in question the demonology believed in by the people of the Middle Ages and the old dames of later days.—Harper’s Bazar.

(3122)

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“Refuse old wives’ fables,” is a good Biblical rule. Christianity is slowly dispelling such foolish beliefs as the following:

There are still some places where people believe a felon on the finger is caused by having pointed the finger at the moon, and that some headaches are caused by having one’s hair cut while the moon is crescent.

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“They who believe not in God will believe in ghosts.” This is the nature of superstition, of which these Tahitians are an example:

The Tahitians had great confidence in the power of red feathers, attributing large success in fishing to their presence on the canoes, but had little conception of the soul or of duty; and, while faithless toward God, they were credulous toward the most absurd imposture, placing their trust in fortune-tellers, dreams, and signs of good or ill luck.—Pierson, “The Miracles of Missions.”

(3124)

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Fishermen the world over are as prone to superstition as sailors are, and many curious notions prevail among them as to what shall be done to court luck in their catches.

One of the strangest notions in this respect is that held by the Indians in British Columbia. With great ceremony and solemnity these red men go out to meet “the first salmon,” endeavoring in flattering tones to win the favor of the fish by addressing them as “great chiefs.”

The salmon fisheries in California used to be responsible for a queer custom on the part of the Indians. Every spring they would “dance for salmon.” If the fish did not appear with that celerity deemed appropriate there would be employed a “wise man,” who made an image of a swimming fish which was placed in the water in the hope of attracting live fish to the bait.

The Japanese fishermen have the quaint notion that silence must be observed, and even the women left at home are not permitted to talk lest the fish should hear and disapprove. Among the members of the primitive race of the Ainos, the first fish caught is brought in through a window instead of a door, so that the other fish “may not see.”

Among the Eskimos it is held that bad luck will come should their women sew while the men are fishing. If the necessity for mending arises the women must do the job shut up in little tents out of sight of the fishermen.

The fishermen off the northeast coast of Scotland will, under no circumstances, allow a fisherman at sea to make mention of certain objects on land, such as, for instance, “dog,” “swine,” “cow,” etc. If on land chickens are not to be counted before they are hatched, so at sea fish must not be counted till the catch be completed. The Scots think that it is good luck to find a rat gnawing at a net; also a horseshoe nailed to the mast will help; but the greatest good luck of all is to see a mouse aboard.—Harper’s Weekly.

(3125)

See [Barriers]; [Deceit with God]; [Eye, The Evil]; [Fear]; [Junk]; [Spiritistic Phenomena]; [Thirteen Superstition, The]; [Witches, Belief in].

SUPERSTITION CONDEMNED

The belief that a particular house or day or gem is “unlucky” and fraught with evil runs counter to any rational theory of the government of the universe. How can those who believe in the rule of a Supreme Being—a conscious and just and omniscient intelligence—picture their God as capable of such caprice, such impish malevolence, as to make one dwelling out of ten thousand fatefully “unlucky” to its inhabitants, or to visit with misfortune those of his creatures who break a looking-glass or who start on a journey on a Friday—an artificial designation in a mushroom calendar news of which can hardly yet have reached the dial of the skies? Or, accepting the other theory of a government of law, is it conceivable that the ordainments of immutable nature are subject to whimsical and malevolent manipulations to harass and distress human beings? Civilized voodooism is an impugnment of the Power that rules the universe. It is degrading to the intellect of man. It is an affront to common sense.—New York World.

(3126)

Superstition Overcome—See [Intelligence Outdoing Ignorance].

Superstitions, Chinese—See [Earthquake, Superstitions About].

SUPPLIES, BRINGING UP

A citizen noticed a medal on the breast of a soldier. “You have been in the war, I see,” he said. “Yes,” he replied. “I’ve been through one war, and that accounts for my medal.” “In what battles did you fight?” The soldier smiled and said, “I was never at the front; my business was to bring up supplies.”

Many a man or woman will never get to the front of a great pitched battle, but he or she can help to win the victory by “bringing up the supplies.” Out of sight, in the rear of the fighters, we can bring up supplies to aid their efforts.

(3127)

Supply According to Capacity—See [Capacity Limiting Supply].

SUPPLY AND DEMAND

The story is told of a tramp who came to a certain valley, which was inundated by a freshet in a river. There was a great demand for help to carry persons and property in boats to a place of safety. The tramp threw down the bundle, which contained all he had in the world, and declared: “This is my harvest.” He demanded ten dollars a day, and went to work at that rate. This was true philosophy. He kept out of the labor market until the “conjuncture” of supply and demand was all on his side, and then he went in.—Prof. William G. Sumner, The Independent.

(3128)

Support by Faith of Others—See [Dependence].

SURFACE LIVES

There is plenty of light and heat in the desert. The occasional oases that cheer the traveler show that the soil is rich enough to grow vegetation. Water is the one thing it needs to make it a fertile garden. Sometimes a few feet beneath the surface there flows a river. If the parched and fainting pilgrim would pause and dig deep enough he might find the cool, clear water that would quench his thirst and help to save his life.

So many a man is content to live on the surface of life and suffer thirst of soul, whereas, if he would “let down his bucket for a draught,” the deeps of better inspiration—a true water of life—might always be reached. (Text.)

(3129)

SURGERY, IMPROVEMENT IN

Within our own time, another great man of the Washington type, Count Cavour, has been slain by medical bleeding precisely as Washington was. The worse Cavour grew, the more his doctors bled him, and he finally succumbed under the treatment, in the flower of his age and in the midst of his usefulness. It is, therefore, not unfair to conclude that the final cessation of a practise so barbarous, so opposed to common sense, has been due to the increase of physiological knowledge and to that increased reliance on nature and careful nursing, and diminished reliance on “physic,” which is the result of this knowledge, and that its continuance in any country is simply a sign of a low condition of medical research. The advance in conservative surgery has been simply enormous. The great operations have been robbed of their terrors, and with their terrors of much of their danger, and nothing has made more progress than contrivances for preventing the loss of blood. In fact, in the practise of to-day there is nothing of which so much care is taken as of the patient’s blood. Not only is he left in possession of all he has already got, but every pains is taken to increase his supply of it. Nobody “lets blood” now but assassins, and “toughs” and suicides—a curious sign of progress, but a sign of progress it is.—New York Evening Post.

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SURGERY IN KOREA

Medical science in Korea is wofully deficient. Native doctors have but two instruments—a little flat knife-blade and a long, sharp knitting-needle-like instrument. The former is used for bleeding or scraping, and the latter for plunging into the body to make an exit for the disease devil. It is always surgically dirty and a joint is a favorite place for its insertion. Septic conditions arise which render the joints permanently immovable. Medical missionaries are continually called upon to give aid to children of from eight to twelve years of age with stiffened knees or elbows.

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SURPRIZES IN BOOKS

There are the “pleasant surprizes” of publishing—books undertaken with the expectation of about paying expenses that have soared away to the hundred-thousand mark. Others are “undertaken because they are known to be works of great merit, and while the publisher may not have much hope of a satisfactory result, there is a chance that the merit of the book may in time make an impression on the public.” Then there are those undertaken because “they strike a new note in literature, which may receive the appreciation of the public.” “David Harum” is called “the greatest surprize.” Seven or eight publishers had declined the book, and only two persons in the house accepting it had much hope that it would pay expenses. For six months after publication a few thousand copies were disposed of; its ultimate sale was nearly a million.—Appleton’s Magazine.

(3132)

Surrender, Total—See [Reservation].

Survey, The Larger—See [Point of View].

SURVIVAL

Mr. Vernon L. Kellogg gives the imaginary feelings of a minute scale that infests oranges during their growth, on finding out that he and his kind were the common prey of the orange beetle:

He soon learned that of all the orange-dwellers who are born, only a very, very few escape the beetles and other devouring beasts who pursue them. And he was highly indignant when one shrewd orange-dweller told him that it really was a good thing for the race of orange-dwellers that so many of them were killed. “For,” the shrewd orange-dweller said, “if all of us who are born should live and have families, and not die until old age came on, there would soon be so many of us that we should eat all the orange-trees in the world, and then we should all starve to death.” And this is quite true.—“Insect Stories.”

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SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST

“Among every hundred men who become firemen only seventeen are ever made engineers,” says Warren S. Stone, chief of the Brotherhood of Locomotive Engineers, one of the most powerful labor organizations in the world. “Out of every one hundred engineers only six ever get passenger runs. The next time you see a white-haired man on the cab of a big passenger locomotive don’t wonder at all at his white hair, but make up your mind that he has the goods or he wouldn’t be there. It is a case of the selection and the survival of the fittest. It takes nerve to run the fast trains these days, for you sit at your throttle, tearing across the country at the rate of more than a mile a minute, and if any one of a dozen people, down to the man who spiked the rails, has made a mistake you ride to certain death.”

(3134)

See [Nature’s Aggressiveness].

SUSPICION

Two promoters once called on Mr. Russell Sage to try to interest him in a certain scheme. They talked to the great financier about an hour. Then they took their leave, having been told that Mr. Sage’s decision would be mailed to them in a few days. “I believe we’ve got him,” said the first promoter hopefully, on the way uptown. “I don’t know,” rejoined the other. “He seems very suspicious.” “Suspicious?” said the first. “What makes you think he was suspicious?” “Didn’t you notice,” was the reply, “how he counted his fingers after I had shaken hands with him?”—New Orleans States.

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The people who make it their chief business in life to see that they are not imposed upon very frequently wrong others in their over-eagerness to maintain their rights. The following incident has a valuable lesson for all impulsive folk who are also a little inclined to suspect the motives of other people.

A countryman, says an exchange, came into a village store with a very angry demeanor. “Look here,” he began sharply, “I bought a paper of nutmegs here yesterday, and when I got home I found ’em mor’n half walnuts. And there is the young villain I bought ’em of,” he added, pointing to the proprietor’s son.

“John,” said the father, “did you sell this man walnuts for nutmegs?”

“No, sir,” was the ready response.

“You needn’t lie about it,” exclaimed the farmer, still further enraged by the young man’s assurance.

“Now, look here,” said John, with a good-natured smile, “if you had taken the trouble to weigh your nutmegs, you would have found that I put walnuts in extra.

“Oh, you gave them to me, did you?” asked the man in a somewhat mollified tone.

“Yes, sir; I threw in a handful for the children.”

“Well, if you ain’t a good one!” the man remarked, with restored good humor. “An’ here I’ve been making an idiot of myself. Just put me up a pound of tea, will ye. I’ll stop and weigh things next time.”

(3136)

Swearing—See [Conscience]; [Oaths].

SWEARING A WASTE OF CHARACTER

General Washington, in an order issued August 3, 1776, said: “The general is sorry to be informed that the foolish and wicked practise of profane cursing and swearing, a vice hitherto little known in an American army, is growing into fashion. He hopes the officers will, by example as well as influence, endeavor to check it, and that both they and the men will reflect that we can have little hope of the blessing of heaven on our army if we insult it by our impiety and folly. Added to this, it is a vice so mean and low, without any temptation, that every man of sense and character detests and despises it.” Swearing is a great waste of character!

James says: “But above all things, my brethren (and my Juniors), swear not; neither by heaven, neither by the earth, neither by any other oath; but let your yea be yea, and your nay be nay; lest ye fall into condemnation.” Swearing is a great loss of soul! James asks you to be specially watchful against the habit of swearing. “Above all things”—that is, you will find it more difficult to keep from this sin than it is to keep from many other besetting sins.

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If Satan can not get a boy or girl to swear with the tongue, he will try to get a swear through the hands or feet. Slamming a door when you are mad is hand-swearing. When you have been corrected and go out of the room as tho each step would put holes in the floor you are foot-swearing. Sometimes a swear spreads over the face like a cloud across the sky. Swearing is a great loss of happiness!—J. M. Farrar.

(3138)

See [Self-restraint].

SWEARING A WASTE OF TIME

Swearing is a great waste of time. Stop the leak in the kettle. This kettle is an hour with sixty drops of time in it. If there is a leak in the kettle the little drops of time will be lost. Sixty drops and the hour-kettle is empty. Swearing is a bad habit and will surely wear a hole in the kettle. It is difficult to swear without getting angry. Sometimes the kettle is emptied before the hole is made. How? Anger starts the kettle boiling and time runs over and is lost. Swearing is a great waste of time! In sixty minutes of temper an hour has run over.—J. M. Farrar.

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Wednesday, April 27, was Grant’s birthday. Some one told the following interesting story about him: “While sitting with him at the camp-fire late one night, after every one else had gone to bed, I said to him: ‘General, it seems singular that you have gone through all the trouble of army service and frontier life and have never been provoked into swearing. I have never heard you utter an oath or use an imprecation.’

“‘Well, somehow or other, I never learned to swear,’ he replied. ‘When a boy I seemed to have an aversion to it, and when I became a man I saw the folly of it. I have always noticed, too, that swearing helps to arouse a man’s anger; and when a man flies into a passion, his adversary, who keeps cool, always gets the better of him. In fact, I never could see the use of swearing. I think it is the case with many people who swear excessively that it is a mere habit, and that they do not mean to be profane; but, to say the least, it is a great waste of time.’”—J. M. Farrar.

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SWIFTNESS OF BIRDS

The inexperienced gunner will declare emphatically that any old bird can fly at least a mile a second, but science is of the opinion that the swift, the most speedy bird of all, can make but 250 miles an hour. The swallow can cover ninety-two miles in an hour and the eider-duck ninety miles. All birds of prey are necessarily rapid in their flight; the eagle can attain a speed of 140 miles per hour and the hawk 150 miles. The flight of most migratory birds does not exceed fifty miles an hour, and the crow can accomplish but twenty-five.

A falcon belonging to Henry IV of France escaped from Fontainebleau and was found at Malta twenty-four hours later, having covered a distance of at least 1,530 miles. Sir John Ross, on October 6, 1850, dispatched from Assistance Bay two young carrier-pigeons, one of which reached its dove-cote in Ayrshire, Scotland, on the 13th. This was comparatively slow time for the distance, two thousand miles. It is probable that flights which have occasioned astonishment by greatly exceeding the average have been materially assisted by aerial currents moving in the same direction.—Harper’s Weekly.

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SWINDLING

An instance of “high finance,” under the guise of religion, is set forth by the daily press in the case of one, Carl Helmstadt, of whom this is said:

The detectives report an instructive conversation with this man, who tells clergymen he is a brand from the burning and needs their prayers for deliverance.

“How many ministers have you swindled?” the detective asked Helmstadt.

“Oh, I don’t know how many.”

“More than one hundred?”

“Sure,” answered Helmstadt. “Why not? We kneel down and pray together, and we both weep. Then I tell them I feel greatly relieved, spiritually. Then I sting them for a few dollars.”

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SYMBOL OF LIFE

Men talk sometimes as if the passage of a ship through the sea or a bird through the air is a fit symbol of man’s passage through this world. I do not think so. A better symbol would be the passage of a plow through the soil leaving a furrow behind. What does the furrow include? All the memory of every beautiful picture and landscape you have ever seen. It includes the memory of every experience, every sweet association, every tie of love, whether of father, mother, wife or children. All these, whether living or dead, speak to you. They have a voice, a language that you will understand.—George L. Perin.

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Symbol of Life, The Tree a—See [Tree a Spiritual Symbol.]

Symbol of Sacrifice—See [Memorial of Lincoln].

SYMBOL, POWER OF A

The waving folds of an American flag are credited with saving a house in the midst of the fire following the earthquake in San Francisco in April, 1906. The house stands at 1654 Taylor Street. As the fire crept up to it, its owner determined it should go gloriously and ran up a flag on the roof pole. The eaves had caught fire, but a company of the Twentieth United States Infantry, under a lieutenant, passing a block away, saw the banner waving proudly amid the smoke. “A house that flies a flag like that is worth saving,” is the expression the narrator puts on the lips of the young officer. The men ran to the place, beat off the flames and saved the house.

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SYMBOLIC PREACHING

A good example of symbolic preaching is afforded in the following descriptions of a sermon by a Chinese evangelist named Li, of Changsha, China, on the value of the soul:

Mr. Li began by describing a clock, without naming it, calling it dead and yet alive. He showed that it has all the parts of a living mechanism, but that this mechanism is dead; without two great essentials. The clock was then shown to the audience and they were led to see that a spring is the source of power, but that power must be applied to the spring before the mechanism does its work. The preacher skilfully illustrated by these facts the importance of the soul, and the relation which it bears on the one hand to man and on the other to God. About twenty minutes were devoted to this illustration, after which the preacher quoted a number of texts from the Scriptures bearing upon the teaching of the value of the soul.—G. E. Dawson, Missionary Review of the World.

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SYMBOLISM

In Japanese art every flower has a meaning. Certain flowers must never be seen together. Certain others must never be seen apart. Then, again, everything goes in threes—blossoms, boughs, or sprays. Even furniture has a meaning. The details of this etiquette are endless, and, to the Occidental mind, bewildering, unless one “has an imagination”—or, at least, an esthetic sense to which its poetic features can appeal.—Marshall P. Wilder, “Smiling ’Round the World.”

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SYMBOLS

The Chinese claim that they do not worship the idol in their devotions, but rather the thought or the spirit that the idol represents. So they worship at the shrine of “Long Life,” “Happiness,” “Offspring,” “Ancestors,” “Agriculture,” “Heaven,” “Earth,” “Rain,” “Sunshine.” The bat means happiness; the peach, long life; the pomegranate, many children; the dragon, power; indeed, everything has its significance. This explains their designs upon cloth, embroideries, cloisonne, and porcelain, every figure and stroke having its meaning. The material thing represents a thought.

Is there not a legitimate use of symbols? And may they not be made to have a language that speaks through the senses to the soul?

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Symbols may have value to those who can interpret them, even if we can not:

An American lady was at a dinner party with Mr. Li Lo, the eminent Chinese philosopher, when she said:

“May I ask why you attach so much importance to the dragon in your country? You know there is no such creature, don’t you? You have never seen one?”

“My dear madam,” graciously answered the great Chinaman, “why do you attach so much importance to the Goddess of Liberty on your coins? You know there is no such lady, don’t you? You have never seen her, have you?”

(3148)

Symbols Interpreting Realities—See [Realities, Invisible].

SYMBOLS, THE VALUE OF

In a private letter, written to a local paper by a resident of Cazenovia, N. Y., who is dwelling in Japan, the following was related:

I must tell a story connected with the visit of our American fleet. One day, just as some of the troops were marching to the railroad station, an enormous arch which stood just in front of the station took fire. Instantly one of the Japanese soldiers climbed to the top and brought down the United States flag that hung over in his direction. No greater act of courtesy could be performed, according to Japanese ideas than to save our flag from harm. But when without a moment’s delay, one of our blue-jackets ran up the other side of the arch, as tho it were the rigging of a ship, and snatched the Japanese flag just before it fell, tho his hands were scorched and he was nearly choked by smoke from the burning evergreen, the crowds nearly went wild with excitement and could not stop cheering.

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SYMPATHY

When the great steamer receives its cargo the captain must correct the compass, neutralizing the influence of the iron cargo in the hold. And sympathy keeps the needle of justice turned toward the star, corrects the aberrations of the intellect.—N. D. Hillis.

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Dr. Dunning, of the Congregationalist, tells of a very near friend of his who visited Tiffany’s great jewelry store in New York. He was shown a magnificent diamond with its gleaming yellow light, and many other splendid stones. As he went along he saw one jewel that was perfectly lusterless, and he said: “That has no beauty about it at all.” But the friend with him put it in the hollow of his hand and shut his hand, and then in a few moments opened it, and he said: “What a surprize! There was not a place on it the size of a pinhead that did not gleam with the splendor of the rainbow.” And then he said: “What have you been doing with it?” His friend answered: “This is an opal. It is what we call the sympathetic jewel. It only needs contact with the human hand to bring out its wonderful beauty.”

Doctor Dunning adds: “All childhood needs is that the human hand should touch it, and it will gleam with all the opalescent splendor that can shine from heavenly minds.”

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There are songs enough for the heroes,

Who dwell on the heights of fame;

I sing of the disappointed,

Of one who has missed his aim.

I sing with a tearful cadence,

Of one who stands in the dark,

And knows that his last, last arrow

Has bounded back from the mark.

For the hearts that break in silence,

With a sorrow all unknown;

For those who need companions,

Yet must walk their way alone.

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See [Acting, Actor Affected by]; [Kinship]; [Rapport].

SYMPATHY BY PLEASURE-GOERS

London to-night (May 6, 1910), with King Edward lying dead, is a despairing city. While the sun shone a dash more brilliantly than it has yet done on any day this year, the people seemed to extract the utmost particle of hope which the medical bulletins could be made to convey. But evening came cold, dismal, with rain drizzling from heavy skies, and the crowds lost heart. Long before the final news came—soon, indeed, after the issue of the later reports announcing that the King’s condition was most grave and that the hoped-for improvement had not set in, the streets were practically empty.

It was curious to see how outside one theater where a popular success is running the queue which had formed alongside the pit and gallery doors melted away before the doors were opened. It was evident that these people, to whom a visit to a theater is such a treat that they stand for hours waiting to secure a seat, had no heart for musical comedy while their King lay at death’s door.—The New York Times.

(3153)

Sympathy, Impelling—See [Example, Power of].

SYMPATHY IN TEACHING

In music you learn more in a week from a sympathetic teacher, or at least from some one who is so to you, than from another, however excellent, in a month. You will make no progress if he can give you no impulse.

What a mystery lies in that word “teaching!” One will constrain you irresistibly, and another shall not be able to persuade you. One will kindle you with an ambition that aspires to what the day before seemed inaccessible heights, while another will labor in vain to stir your sluggish mood to cope with the smallest obstacle. The reciprocal relation is too often forgotten.—R. H. Haweis.

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SYMPATHY, LACK OF

Nothing is so likely to cause a man to lose his head as the conscious lack of sympathetic encompassment. Sometimes a single man will upset a sermon.

I remember such a one who for many months was the plague of my life. He had taken offense at some public utterance of mine, and thereafter in his eyes I was persona non grata, a fact which he took a sort of savage satisfaction in making manifest in season and out of season, especially the latter.

He would seem to be deeply interested in the opening exercises, but the moment when I rose to preach he would double up as if in pain, or avert his face and look wistfully toward the window as if murmuring to himself. “Oh, that I had wings like a dove, for then would I fly away and be at rest.” And then instead of “afflatus” I would be taken with a bad spell of “flat us.” It does not take many such hearers to kill a man.—P. S. Henson, Christian Endeavor World.

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SYMPATHY, PRACTICAL

A little boy was riding in a street car, and, observing a kindly looking woman, he snuggled closely up to her, and unconsciously rubbed his dusty feet against her dress, when she leaned over to a woman on the other side of the little boy and said shortly, “Madam, will you kindly make your little boy take his feet off my dress?” The other woman said, “My boy? He isn’t my boy.” The little fellow squirmed uneasily, seemed to be greatly distrest, and looked disappointedly into the face of the woman who had disowned relationship to him. The woman whose attention had thus been called to the little boy presently observed that the child’s eyes were fastened upon her with a peculiarly wistful expression, and she said to him, “Are you going about alone?” “Yes, ma’am,” he replied, “I always go alone; father and mother are dead, and I live with Aunt Clara, and when she gets tired of me she sends me to Aunt Sarah, to stay as long as she will keep me; but they both tire of me so soon, I keep changing from one to the other; they don’t either of them care for little boys like me.” The woman’s heart was drawn to the motherless boy, and she said, “You are a very little boy to be traveling alone like this.” “Oh, I don’t mind,” said he, “only I get lonesome sometimes on these long trips, and when I see some one that I think I would like to belong to, I snuggle up close to her so that I can make believe I really do belong to her. This morning I was playing that I belonged to that other lady, and I forgot about my dirty shoes. But she would not let me belong to her. Do you like little boys?” The pitifulness of that appeal overcame all restraint of the woman’s feelings, and regardless of a car full of spectators, she put her arms around the tiny chap, hugged him close, and kissing him, said, “Yes, and I only wish you wanted to belong to me.” The boy looked at her with rapturous content, and replied, “I do.” And she said, “You shall,” and she adopted him.—James T. White, “Character Lessons.”

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SYMPATHY, ROYAL

King Victor Emmanuel returned to the ruins of Reggio to-day (January 1, 1909), and he has been indefatigable in succoring the afflicted. He traversed the ruins from one end to the other, comforting the sufferers and cheering the rescuers. At one point he came upon a man buried up to his waist in débris. He encouraged the unfortunate while the soldiers were digging him out. In the midst of the efforts at rescue the man cried:

“Sire, I can wait for deliverance, but for God’s sake give me food and drink.”

Meeting a group of photographers engaged in taking pictures, the King chided them for their occupation.

“You had much better turn your efforts to succoring the afflicted,” said his Majesty.

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Sympathy Wasted—See [Fancy, Deceptive].

SYMPATHY WITH ONE’S OWN CREATIONS

A writer in The Critic says:

I once saw it recorded of George Eliot, as a thing marvelous, incredible, and unique, that she actually wept over her own creations. This fact, so stated, made me wonder at the ignorance of the writer. Does anybody suppose that a moving situation was ever yet depicted, the writing of which did not cost the author anguish and tears? How could he move his readers if he were not first moved himself? It is an elementary maxim; you may find it in Horace. But it is a sign that one possesses imagination if one can laugh over the fortunes of one’s own puppets.

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SYNCHRONISM

There is a divine standard by which every man in the world can accurately regulate his life as these clocks are regulated.

The ease with which any number of electric clocks may be operated in synchronism is an advantage of no small moment. In factories, mills, and large manufacturing plants, where it is essential to have the exact time in all the rooms, the electric clock will prove of peculiar value. By removing the pendulums from all but one clock, with the others connected in circuit, the exact time can be kept with all the clocks in the plant. Furthermore, the regulation of timepieces by electric power from some central station is thus greatly simplified. With a wire running to the main clock of the plant, an exact regulation of all in the series could be instantly obtained. (Text.)—The Electrical Age.

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Synchrony—See [Church, Guidance for the].

Syntax, Absurd—See [English, Errors in].

SYSTEM IN LABOR

A full week’s work may be well divided according to a plan.

The father of Theodore Roosevelt was a wealthy business man and a Christian. A remarkable thing about him was that he worked five days a week attending strictly to business; one day he spent improving his own mind and heart, and one day doing good, visiting the poor and otherwise helping others. (Text.)

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System versus Men—See [Unnatural Education].