A party of young people were about to explore a coal-mine. One of the young ladies appeared drest in white. A friend remonstrated with her. Not liking the interference, she turned to the old miner, who was to conduct them, and said:“Can’t I wear a white dress down in the mine?”“Yes, mum,” was his reply. “There is nothing to hinder you from wearing a white frock down there, but there’ll be considerable to keep you from wearing one back.”
A party of young people were about to explore a coal-mine. One of the young ladies appeared drest in white. A friend remonstrated with her. Not liking the interference, she turned to the old miner, who was to conduct them, and said:
“Can’t I wear a white dress down in the mine?”
“Yes, mum,” was his reply. “There is nothing to hinder you from wearing a white frock down there, but there’ll be considerable to keep you from wearing one back.”
There is nothing to hinder a Christian from conforming to the world’s standard of living, but there is a good deal to keep him from being unspotted if he does. Christians were put into the atmosphere of this world to purify it, and not to be poisoned by it.
(561)
Mr. Hilditch, of the Sheffield Laboratory of Bacteriology and Hygiene, Yale University, has demonstrated that the average number of bacteria in each of twenty-one bills was 142,000, while by far the most common forms present were the varieties of the pyogenic staphylococcus. These organisms were not in possession of their full virulence, but merely produced a more or less local reaction, on guinea-pig injection, with swelling of the lymph glands of the groin. Their constant presence on money is certainly of greater significance than merely indicating the exposure to the bacterial contamination of the air; they clearly indicate that the money has been contaminated by handling and without regard to the virulence or the danger of infection to which these particular organisms themselves expose those who receive the money, they establish beyond question the most fundamental and significant fact for scientific demonstration, viz., that money is a medium of bacterial communication from one individual to another.—The Popular Science Monthly.
Mr. Hilditch, of the Sheffield Laboratory of Bacteriology and Hygiene, Yale University, has demonstrated that the average number of bacteria in each of twenty-one bills was 142,000, while by far the most common forms present were the varieties of the pyogenic staphylococcus. These organisms were not in possession of their full virulence, but merely produced a more or less local reaction, on guinea-pig injection, with swelling of the lymph glands of the groin. Their constant presence on money is certainly of greater significance than merely indicating the exposure to the bacterial contamination of the air; they clearly indicate that the money has been contaminated by handling and without regard to the virulence or the danger of infection to which these particular organisms themselves expose those who receive the money, they establish beyond question the most fundamental and significant fact for scientific demonstration, viz., that money is a medium of bacterial communication from one individual to another.—The Popular Science Monthly.
(562)
CONTAMINATION, DEATH FROM
For the soldier in the far-away Philippines, death lurks in many places. Perhaps it is the enemy in the open, or the shot from the thicket, or the assassin’s knife in the dark. These are not the deadliest foes, however. The cholera is everywhere. Man can guard against the one, but he falls a victim to the other. Not long since a certain constabulary officer had met the enemy and defeated them. Before he reached camp on the return march, however, disease laid hold upon him for its own. Ere he reached the camp he was dead. In trying to explain that sudden demise, a companion of the march said:
When we stopt at shacks on the roadside and asked for water it was furnished us in a coconut shell with the native’s thumb dipt in and the water so muddy one could not see the bottom, but down it went with some jest about a cool death.
When we stopt at shacks on the roadside and asked for water it was furnished us in a coconut shell with the native’s thumb dipt in and the water so muddy one could not see the bottom, but down it went with some jest about a cool death.
The thumb of the native, dipt in the shell of water, brought death to the drinker. There is another sort of cup in which lurks the serpent of death—the wine cup.
(563)
Contempt of Patriotism—SeeMemorials of Patriotism.
CONTENT
Robert Trowbridge wrote forScribner’s Magazinethe following verse:
My neighbor hath a little field,Small store of wine its presses yield,And truly but a slender hoardIts harvest brings for barn or board.Yet tho a hundred fields are mine,Fertile with olive, corn, and vine;Tho autumn piles my garners high,Still for that little field I sigh,For, ah! methinks no other whereIs any field so good and fair.Small tho it be, ’tis better farThan all my fruitful vineyards are,Amid whose plenty sad I pine—“Ah, would that little field were mine!”Large knowledge void of peace and rest,And wealth with pining care possest—These by my fertile lands are meant.That little field is called Content.
My neighbor hath a little field,Small store of wine its presses yield,And truly but a slender hoardIts harvest brings for barn or board.Yet tho a hundred fields are mine,Fertile with olive, corn, and vine;Tho autumn piles my garners high,Still for that little field I sigh,For, ah! methinks no other whereIs any field so good and fair.Small tho it be, ’tis better farThan all my fruitful vineyards are,Amid whose plenty sad I pine—“Ah, would that little field were mine!”Large knowledge void of peace and rest,And wealth with pining care possest—These by my fertile lands are meant.That little field is called Content.
My neighbor hath a little field,Small store of wine its presses yield,And truly but a slender hoardIts harvest brings for barn or board.Yet tho a hundred fields are mine,Fertile with olive, corn, and vine;Tho autumn piles my garners high,Still for that little field I sigh,For, ah! methinks no other whereIs any field so good and fair.Small tho it be, ’tis better farThan all my fruitful vineyards are,Amid whose plenty sad I pine—“Ah, would that little field were mine!”
My neighbor hath a little field,
Small store of wine its presses yield,
And truly but a slender hoard
Its harvest brings for barn or board.
Yet tho a hundred fields are mine,
Fertile with olive, corn, and vine;
Tho autumn piles my garners high,
Still for that little field I sigh,
For, ah! methinks no other where
Is any field so good and fair.
Small tho it be, ’tis better far
Than all my fruitful vineyards are,
Amid whose plenty sad I pine—
“Ah, would that little field were mine!”
Large knowledge void of peace and rest,And wealth with pining care possest—These by my fertile lands are meant.That little field is called Content.
Large knowledge void of peace and rest,
And wealth with pining care possest—
These by my fertile lands are meant.
That little field is called Content.
(564)
CONTENTMENT
There is a story of an old woman who was very uncomfortable in her temper. She was always fretting and worrying and complaining. Nothing ever went right with her, and everybody was tired of her continual crossness and grumbling.At last, late in her life, there came a change over her, and this cross, crabbed old woman grew gentle, patient and amiable. She was so altered from her former self that one of her neighbors took courage to ask her how it was that she, who had always found life so full of prickles, now seemed to touch the smooth and pleasant side of everything.“Well,” said she, “I’ll tell you how it is. I’ve been all my life a-struggling and a-striving for a contented mind, and now I’ve made up my mind to sit down contented without it.”
There is a story of an old woman who was very uncomfortable in her temper. She was always fretting and worrying and complaining. Nothing ever went right with her, and everybody was tired of her continual crossness and grumbling.
At last, late in her life, there came a change over her, and this cross, crabbed old woman grew gentle, patient and amiable. She was so altered from her former self that one of her neighbors took courage to ask her how it was that she, who had always found life so full of prickles, now seemed to touch the smooth and pleasant side of everything.
“Well,” said she, “I’ll tell you how it is. I’ve been all my life a-struggling and a-striving for a contented mind, and now I’ve made up my mind to sit down contented without it.”
(565)
SeeOptimism.
Contentment More than Raiment—SeeCharacter More than Clothing.
Contest, Made for—SeeBody, Mastering the.
Contingency—SeeCommon Problem, The.
Continuity of Life—SeeLife, Continued.
Contraband Traffic—SeeEvidence, Providential.
Contraction of Stomach—SeeAdaptation.
Contrariness—SeeDourness.
CONTRAST NECESSARY TO INTEREST
In nature as well as in poetry the sense of beauty is stimulated by contrast. If all women were pretty, how soon we should cease to admire lovely eyes and fair complexions and the thousand charms which make women in their weakness stronger than men are in their strength; if all men were handsome fine features would be disregarded. In climates which have months of perpetual drought and heat, the blue sky becomes hateful, and the sun, instead of being the best of friends, as in temperate lands, is regarded as an enemy. An Englishman finds cloudy days depressing because they are so frequent in his own land; his brothers in tropical lands welcome them because they are so few. In animal life, too, the same rule holds good, and I question if we should admire the exquisite shape of a gazelle or of a well-bred horse, and the superb plumage of the peacock and the secretary-bird, were it not for the contrast afforded by the rhinoceros, the hippopotamus, and the vulture.—Illustrated London News.
In nature as well as in poetry the sense of beauty is stimulated by contrast. If all women were pretty, how soon we should cease to admire lovely eyes and fair complexions and the thousand charms which make women in their weakness stronger than men are in their strength; if all men were handsome fine features would be disregarded. In climates which have months of perpetual drought and heat, the blue sky becomes hateful, and the sun, instead of being the best of friends, as in temperate lands, is regarded as an enemy. An Englishman finds cloudy days depressing because they are so frequent in his own land; his brothers in tropical lands welcome them because they are so few. In animal life, too, the same rule holds good, and I question if we should admire the exquisite shape of a gazelle or of a well-bred horse, and the superb plumage of the peacock and the secretary-bird, were it not for the contrast afforded by the rhinoceros, the hippopotamus, and the vulture.—Illustrated London News.
(566)
Contrasted Careers—SeeCareers Contrasted.
Contrasts, Shameful—SeeExtravagance, Censurable.
CONTROL, DIVINE
The late Prof. Henry Drummond was staying at the house of a friend whose coachman had imperiled his career more than once by drunkenness. “Do try and speak to him about it,” said the lady to Professor Drummond. Driving to the station, Professor Drummond sat beside the coachman. The carriage narrowly escaped collision through the carelessness of another driver. “Didn’t I manage that well?” said the coachman to Professor Drummond. “You did, indeed. How was it?” “Because,” said the coachman, “I understand the horses’ mouths exactly and they obey my slightest guidance.” Drummond seized the opportunity immediately. “I have only a minute,” he said, “but let me ask, Why don’t you throw the reins of your life to God, who understandsyour mouth and is ready and willing to guide you?” The word went home to the coachman’s heart. (Text.)
The late Prof. Henry Drummond was staying at the house of a friend whose coachman had imperiled his career more than once by drunkenness. “Do try and speak to him about it,” said the lady to Professor Drummond. Driving to the station, Professor Drummond sat beside the coachman. The carriage narrowly escaped collision through the carelessness of another driver. “Didn’t I manage that well?” said the coachman to Professor Drummond. “You did, indeed. How was it?” “Because,” said the coachman, “I understand the horses’ mouths exactly and they obey my slightest guidance.” Drummond seized the opportunity immediately. “I have only a minute,” he said, “but let me ask, Why don’t you throw the reins of your life to God, who understandsyour mouth and is ready and willing to guide you?” The word went home to the coachman’s heart. (Text.)
(567)
CONTROL OF CIRCUMSTANCES
The time has not yet come when man may plow the atmosphere for rain as he plows the soil for crops. If mines must be worked and towns built in arid regions, let promoters of these schemes be required to build aqueducts and bore wells sufficient in advance to supply the needed water, not waiting until droughts come and the people die. Every place on this globe has its rainy years and its dry years. Areas of cold and heat, wind and calm, rain and drought, appear and move and disappear in irregular succession. We must prepare for them and provide against disaster. We can not control the weather, but we may control ourselves.
The time has not yet come when man may plow the atmosphere for rain as he plows the soil for crops. If mines must be worked and towns built in arid regions, let promoters of these schemes be required to build aqueducts and bore wells sufficient in advance to supply the needed water, not waiting until droughts come and the people die. Every place on this globe has its rainy years and its dry years. Areas of cold and heat, wind and calm, rain and drought, appear and move and disappear in irregular succession. We must prepare for them and provide against disaster. We can not control the weather, but we may control ourselves.
(568)
CONVERSION
Rev. J. Hawksley, a missionary among the Indians of the Klondyke, was one evening holding a service and using a magic lantern. He threw upon the screen a picture of Christ cleansing the temple. An inveterate gambler in the audience was so imprest with the attitude of Christ that the words in explanation went straight to his heart. “If Christ was so angry at those who did such things in His earthly temple, I am sure He would never let such a sinner as I am come into His holy temple above. I will give up my gambling and ask His pardon.” And the man kept his word.
Rev. J. Hawksley, a missionary among the Indians of the Klondyke, was one evening holding a service and using a magic lantern. He threw upon the screen a picture of Christ cleansing the temple. An inveterate gambler in the audience was so imprest with the attitude of Christ that the words in explanation went straight to his heart. “If Christ was so angry at those who did such things in His earthly temple, I am sure He would never let such a sinner as I am come into His holy temple above. I will give up my gambling and ask His pardon.” And the man kept his word.
(569)
That man steeped in iniquity can be won back by the grace of Christ to a life of decency and service is one of the marvels of the world.
Luther Burbank, the well-known botanist, finds in nature this renewing and generating quality. He can take a tree that shows distinct evidence of decay, that looks as if it were beyond recovery, and treat it, and treat it again, until he rescues it from its bad habits of many years’ standing. He directs its energies so that they flow in new channels and, as “if by the shock of recreation,” what was once blighted and blasted becomes beautiful, fragrant and fruitful. (Text.)
Luther Burbank, the well-known botanist, finds in nature this renewing and generating quality. He can take a tree that shows distinct evidence of decay, that looks as if it were beyond recovery, and treat it, and treat it again, until he rescues it from its bad habits of many years’ standing. He directs its energies so that they flow in new channels and, as “if by the shock of recreation,” what was once blighted and blasted becomes beautiful, fragrant and fruitful. (Text.)
(570)
In 1855 some Hebrew Christians met in New York to observe the Passover. The meal being over, one after the other rose to testify to faith and love in Christ. One man sat with head dropt between his hands, then sobs shook his body, and those around saw that a mighty conflict was in progress in his soul. Suddenly he leapt to his feet and cried, “I will no longer deny my Lord! I will follow Him outside the camp.” God took that Polish Jew—for it was Bishop Schereschewsky—and through him gave the Mandarin Bible to the vast empire of China. The Passover had become the Supper of the Lord.
In 1855 some Hebrew Christians met in New York to observe the Passover. The meal being over, one after the other rose to testify to faith and love in Christ. One man sat with head dropt between his hands, then sobs shook his body, and those around saw that a mighty conflict was in progress in his soul. Suddenly he leapt to his feet and cried, “I will no longer deny my Lord! I will follow Him outside the camp.” God took that Polish Jew—for it was Bishop Schereschewsky—and through him gave the Mandarin Bible to the vast empire of China. The Passover had become the Supper of the Lord.
(571)
Like a ship becalmed in tropic seas, whose sails hang useless in the breathless air, whose sailors wearily, idly wander about the decks or lean listlessly over the bulwarks looking into the waveless, torpid sea, and over which the heavy gloom of despair and hopeless waiting hangs like a stifling air, so is many a soul arrested in the voyage of life. Its energies are like the useless sails, its thoughts like the listless sailors, the whole spirit of its life like the dull, weary scene of the idly drifting ship. And when at length the welcome wind comes rippling the sea’s dead calm, filling the drooping sails, lifting the ship onward in its course, what music in the rustle of its coming! what joy in the new force it brings to the forceless ship! what animation of life, revival of hope, fleeing of all the dull, dreary spirits which haunted the scene a moment before! So is a soul who has lived with no great, good purpose which gave progress, importance, and interest to life, when at length it seizes on the great Christian purpose of living unto God. (Text.)—W. R. Brooks,Baptist Examiner.
Like a ship becalmed in tropic seas, whose sails hang useless in the breathless air, whose sailors wearily, idly wander about the decks or lean listlessly over the bulwarks looking into the waveless, torpid sea, and over which the heavy gloom of despair and hopeless waiting hangs like a stifling air, so is many a soul arrested in the voyage of life. Its energies are like the useless sails, its thoughts like the listless sailors, the whole spirit of its life like the dull, weary scene of the idly drifting ship. And when at length the welcome wind comes rippling the sea’s dead calm, filling the drooping sails, lifting the ship onward in its course, what music in the rustle of its coming! what joy in the new force it brings to the forceless ship! what animation of life, revival of hope, fleeing of all the dull, dreary spirits which haunted the scene a moment before! So is a soul who has lived with no great, good purpose which gave progress, importance, and interest to life, when at length it seizes on the great Christian purpose of living unto God. (Text.)—W. R. Brooks,Baptist Examiner.
(572)
SeeCreature, A New.
CONVERSION AND A BUTTON
In the life of Charles G. Finney there is an account of the conversion of a prominent merchant. He went to hear Mr. Finney preach and was powerfully affected. Mr. Arthur Tappan, the eminent merchant, sat near him and noticed his agitation. In telling his experience afterward he said that as he arose to go, Mr. Tappan stept up and took him gently by the button of his coat and asked him to stay for prayer and conversation. He tried to excuse himself, but Mr. Tappan held on till he finally yielded. He said afterward, “He held fast to my button, so that an ounce weight at my button was the means of saving my soul.”
In the life of Charles G. Finney there is an account of the conversion of a prominent merchant. He went to hear Mr. Finney preach and was powerfully affected. Mr. Arthur Tappan, the eminent merchant, sat near him and noticed his agitation. In telling his experience afterward he said that as he arose to go, Mr. Tappan stept up and took him gently by the button of his coat and asked him to stay for prayer and conversation. He tried to excuse himself, but Mr. Tappan held on till he finally yielded. He said afterward, “He held fast to my button, so that an ounce weight at my button was the means of saving my soul.”
(573)
Conversion, Evidence of—SeeFamily Religion.
CONVERSION, GENUINE
The convert is known by his fruits. Conduct, conversation, and character, are the infallible tests of a personality transformed within.
In a large iron factory one of the worst men in the place was converted. He had been a man of terrible temper, and could scarcely speak without swearing and blaspheming against God. After his conversion his comrades waited for his temper to break out as before, and to hear him give utterance to a string of oaths. But nothing of the sort occurred. So they prepared a trap for him, which they felt sure would cause his downfall. They heated a long bar of iron and tempered it so that it would look as tho it were cold. Then they laid it on the floor when he was absent, and waited for him to come in and pick it up. Presently he returned, and, stooping over, grasped the hot iron with both hands. His comrades now expected an explosion, for there was a badly blistered strip of flesh on each hand. But the man simply turned round and said quietly, “Men, I didn’t think you would do that.”At these words, so different from what they expected, tears ran down the cheeks of those strong men; a revival broke out then and there, and many of those ironworkers found salvation, because that man had not lost his temper, but had shown the reality of his transformation.
In a large iron factory one of the worst men in the place was converted. He had been a man of terrible temper, and could scarcely speak without swearing and blaspheming against God. After his conversion his comrades waited for his temper to break out as before, and to hear him give utterance to a string of oaths. But nothing of the sort occurred. So they prepared a trap for him, which they felt sure would cause his downfall. They heated a long bar of iron and tempered it so that it would look as tho it were cold. Then they laid it on the floor when he was absent, and waited for him to come in and pick it up. Presently he returned, and, stooping over, grasped the hot iron with both hands. His comrades now expected an explosion, for there was a badly blistered strip of flesh on each hand. But the man simply turned round and said quietly, “Men, I didn’t think you would do that.”
At these words, so different from what they expected, tears ran down the cheeks of those strong men; a revival broke out then and there, and many of those ironworkers found salvation, because that man had not lost his temper, but had shown the reality of his transformation.
(574)
CONVERSION, NOT UNNATURAL
Why should people balk at conversion as if it was something foreign to the universe? The fact is that there is not a moment of time when the process ceases. Dr. W. L. Watkinson calls attention to it in this way:
You come away from your house leaving your inkpot with the sun shining upon it. You go back. Where is your ink? Why, if you look up into the sky to-morrow you will see it in the rainbow! Nature is absolutely full of cleansings, of refinements, of marvelous chemistries, upliftings, transformations, transmutations, transfigurations! And do you mean to tell me that in a world where you see every day the miracle of renewal, the miracle of transfiguration—do you mean to tell me that the only thing in it that can not be changed is the human soul, that which it is most desirable to change? (Text.)
You come away from your house leaving your inkpot with the sun shining upon it. You go back. Where is your ink? Why, if you look up into the sky to-morrow you will see it in the rainbow! Nature is absolutely full of cleansings, of refinements, of marvelous chemistries, upliftings, transformations, transmutations, transfigurations! And do you mean to tell me that in a world where you see every day the miracle of renewal, the miracle of transfiguration—do you mean to tell me that the only thing in it that can not be changed is the human soul, that which it is most desirable to change? (Text.)
(575)
CONVERSION, SINCERE
Mr. C. T. Studd, a missionary to China, tells the following:A white-haired old Chinaman, over fifty years of age, an old opium-smoker, came to us, and having learned of Jesus Christ, was converted, went home and took down his idols. The elders of the village came to him for a subscription to their heathen temples. “I now worship the true God and can not henceforth pay any money for idol worship,” said the old man. When his reply was known, his village and a neighboring village took counsel and decided that they would kill him. One day, as the old man sat in his chair, a mob surrounded his home yelling and cursing. He sat quietly praying. One of the six men who stood at the door ready to kill him shouted, “Now, old man, you come out.”“No,” he replied quietly, “if you want me out, you must come and pull me out.”A dispute arose among the representatives of the villages as to which should have precedence in this act of religious zeal, and the contention waged so high that neither one dared to kill the gray-haired old man. They dispersed to their homes, and after living peacefully a while longer, the old Christian passed quietly to his heavenly home in 1895.
Mr. C. T. Studd, a missionary to China, tells the following:
A white-haired old Chinaman, over fifty years of age, an old opium-smoker, came to us, and having learned of Jesus Christ, was converted, went home and took down his idols. The elders of the village came to him for a subscription to their heathen temples. “I now worship the true God and can not henceforth pay any money for idol worship,” said the old man. When his reply was known, his village and a neighboring village took counsel and decided that they would kill him. One day, as the old man sat in his chair, a mob surrounded his home yelling and cursing. He sat quietly praying. One of the six men who stood at the door ready to kill him shouted, “Now, old man, you come out.”
“No,” he replied quietly, “if you want me out, you must come and pull me out.”
A dispute arose among the representatives of the villages as to which should have precedence in this act of religious zeal, and the contention waged so high that neither one dared to kill the gray-haired old man. They dispersed to their homes, and after living peacefully a while longer, the old Christian passed quietly to his heavenly home in 1895.
(576)
CONVERTED BY THE COMET
The first conversion to Christianity by Halley’s comet was recorded to-day. As far as the available records show, this is the comet’s first convert.At 4:30 o’clock yesterday morning a number of people who had shortened their matutinal slumbers to watch the great sidereal visitor from the roof of a Fourth Avenue apartment house were startled by a loud cry from one of their party. The man, a professional skeptic, was standing with arms outstretched to the heavens, weeping profusely.“This convinces me that there is a God,” he said to his friends. “Hereafter I shall always live as a Christian. These stars could not be unless there is a God.”The profound impression created on the man by the spectacle had not worn off to-day, and he assured his friends he meant to attend church regularly hereafter and to conduct himself as a Godfearing man should.“I had never seen the heavens as I did then,” he declared this morning. “I did not realize what a wonderful world it is.”The man’s name is withheld in order to save him from what his friends say would be embarrassing publicity. His agnostic beliefs have long been the despair of his well-wishers, who are elated over his curious conversion.—BrooklynEagle. (May, 1910.)
The first conversion to Christianity by Halley’s comet was recorded to-day. As far as the available records show, this is the comet’s first convert.
At 4:30 o’clock yesterday morning a number of people who had shortened their matutinal slumbers to watch the great sidereal visitor from the roof of a Fourth Avenue apartment house were startled by a loud cry from one of their party. The man, a professional skeptic, was standing with arms outstretched to the heavens, weeping profusely.
“This convinces me that there is a God,” he said to his friends. “Hereafter I shall always live as a Christian. These stars could not be unless there is a God.”
The profound impression created on the man by the spectacle had not worn off to-day, and he assured his friends he meant to attend church regularly hereafter and to conduct himself as a Godfearing man should.
“I had never seen the heavens as I did then,” he declared this morning. “I did not realize what a wonderful world it is.”
The man’s name is withheld in order to save him from what his friends say would be embarrassing publicity. His agnostic beliefs have long been the despair of his well-wishers, who are elated over his curious conversion.—BrooklynEagle. (May, 1910.)
(577)
Converts in Heathendom—SeeNative Converts.
Convict, A—SeeDead Tho Alive.
CONVICT LABOR
Last summer about forty per cent of the Colorado convicts were put to work outside their prison walls. A thousand were employed exclusively in road-building. The cost for each prisoner employed was thirty-six cents a day and the counties where the roads were built paid this amount, less the amount the State would have to pay to maintain them in the prison. The day’s work was eight hours, and for each month’s service there was a substantial subtraction from the term of imprisonment. No chains were attached, no stripes were worn and there was no armed guard to patrol the work camps; yet less than one-half of one per cent of those thus employed were lost by escapes.The success of the method may be due largely to the tact and judgment of the warden. The road work is said to be the desire of every prisoner, but he must earn the privilege by good conduct. The warden personally has a talk with each prisoner before assigning him to this service and receives his pledge that he will be true and faithful to his trust. “The best effect of this,” he says, “is that every man who goes from prison to road work and keeps his word with me, has taken a long step toward reformation.”This seems to be one of the best solutions of the two problems, how to get good roads and employ the inmates of our penal institutions in healthful labor, under conditions that appeal to their manliness and better nature. Of course, this method must be discriminatingly applied, but the proof that it is workable is a valuable contribution to penology.—BostonTranscript.
Last summer about forty per cent of the Colorado convicts were put to work outside their prison walls. A thousand were employed exclusively in road-building. The cost for each prisoner employed was thirty-six cents a day and the counties where the roads were built paid this amount, less the amount the State would have to pay to maintain them in the prison. The day’s work was eight hours, and for each month’s service there was a substantial subtraction from the term of imprisonment. No chains were attached, no stripes were worn and there was no armed guard to patrol the work camps; yet less than one-half of one per cent of those thus employed were lost by escapes.
The success of the method may be due largely to the tact and judgment of the warden. The road work is said to be the desire of every prisoner, but he must earn the privilege by good conduct. The warden personally has a talk with each prisoner before assigning him to this service and receives his pledge that he will be true and faithful to his trust. “The best effect of this,” he says, “is that every man who goes from prison to road work and keeps his word with me, has taken a long step toward reformation.”
This seems to be one of the best solutions of the two problems, how to get good roads and employ the inmates of our penal institutions in healthful labor, under conditions that appeal to their manliness and better nature. Of course, this method must be discriminatingly applied, but the proof that it is workable is a valuable contribution to penology.—BostonTranscript.
(578)
CONVICTION
Alexander McLaren says:
I once heard that if you take a bit of phosphorus and put it upon a slip of wood and ignite the phosphorus, bright as the blaze is, there drops from it a white ash that coats the wood, and makes it almost impossible to kindle the wood. And so, when the flaming conviction laid upon your heart has burnt itself out, it has coated the heart, and it will be very difficult to kindle the light there again.
I once heard that if you take a bit of phosphorus and put it upon a slip of wood and ignite the phosphorus, bright as the blaze is, there drops from it a white ash that coats the wood, and makes it almost impossible to kindle the wood. And so, when the flaming conviction laid upon your heart has burnt itself out, it has coated the heart, and it will be very difficult to kindle the light there again.
(579)
Conviction as a Foundation—SeeHuman Nature, Insecurity of.
CONVICTION THROUGH A MONKEY
The BostonHeraldis the authority for this story from Baton Rouge, La.:
Because their conviction for murder was based almost entirely on the animosity displayed against them by a trained monkey, Christopher Starr and his wife, Mamie, circus performers, are serving life sentences in State prison.A movement has been started to obtain a new trial for them. During the circus season, James Ackerman, proprietor of a one-ring circus, was murdered while his show was playing at Devall’s Landing, La.Mr. and Mrs. Starr, who had had a troupe of trained animals with the show, were arrested soon afterward, but there was little evidence against them, and they would have been released but for the actions of Scamp, a pet Himalayan ape, belonging to Mr. Ackerman.Ackerman had been feeding the ape when he was slain, and when the animal, which was the only living witness of the crime, saw Starr, he flew into a terrible rage.This action was repeated whenever Starr appeared, despite the fact that he formerly had been a friend of Scamp, and it was repeated when Mrs. Starr was seen.The monkey’s actions caused husband and wife to be indicted, and when placed on trial the monkey was brought into court, and so imprest the jury that, altho the evidence was not over-strong, they were found guilty.
Because their conviction for murder was based almost entirely on the animosity displayed against them by a trained monkey, Christopher Starr and his wife, Mamie, circus performers, are serving life sentences in State prison.
A movement has been started to obtain a new trial for them. During the circus season, James Ackerman, proprietor of a one-ring circus, was murdered while his show was playing at Devall’s Landing, La.
Mr. and Mrs. Starr, who had had a troupe of trained animals with the show, were arrested soon afterward, but there was little evidence against them, and they would have been released but for the actions of Scamp, a pet Himalayan ape, belonging to Mr. Ackerman.
Ackerman had been feeding the ape when he was slain, and when the animal, which was the only living witness of the crime, saw Starr, he flew into a terrible rage.
This action was repeated whenever Starr appeared, despite the fact that he formerly had been a friend of Scamp, and it was repeated when Mrs. Starr was seen.
The monkey’s actions caused husband and wife to be indicted, and when placed on trial the monkey was brought into court, and so imprest the jury that, altho the evidence was not over-strong, they were found guilty.
(580)
CONVICTION, UNYIELDING
Lord Lyndhurst told a curious anecdote about a trial of a civil cause in which the jury would not agree on their verdict. They retired on the evening of one day, and remained till one o’clock the next afternoon, when, being still disagreed, a juror was drawn. There was only one juror who held out against the rest—Mr. Berkeley (M.P.for Bristol). The case was tried over again, and the jury were unanimously of Mr. Berkeley’s opinion, which was, in fact, right—a piece of conscientious obstinacy which prevented the legal commission of a wrong. (Text.)—Greville’s“Memoirs.”
Lord Lyndhurst told a curious anecdote about a trial of a civil cause in which the jury would not agree on their verdict. They retired on the evening of one day, and remained till one o’clock the next afternoon, when, being still disagreed, a juror was drawn. There was only one juror who held out against the rest—Mr. Berkeley (M.P.for Bristol). The case was tried over again, and the jury were unanimously of Mr. Berkeley’s opinion, which was, in fact, right—a piece of conscientious obstinacy which prevented the legal commission of a wrong. (Text.)—Greville’s“Memoirs.”
(581)
Convictions, Lack of—SeeIncertitude.
CONVICTIONS, STRONG
Many years ago in the city of New York there was an organized set of dishonest men known as the Tweed Ring. They stole $51,000,000 from the State and city, and everybody knew it. When they told Tweed that he was under arrest, he dared to say, “Well, what are you going to do about it?” There was a merchant in New York named William Sloane. They put him on the Grand Jury. Because of his large business interests and the tremendous demands upon his time, he said, “I can not serve.” But earnest men said, “Here is the bulwark of sin and here is the need of righteousness.” Immediately he said, “I will serve.” Now, certain men on the jury had been bought up by Tweed. One man in particular stood out. For twenty-three hours that jury sat in council. They could not come to an agreement; this one man would not yield. Finally, Mr. Sloane put his hand on this man’s shoulder and said: “Do you know, sir, that the people whom we represent know the character of this man on trial? They know that we have explicit, convincing evidence against him. And do you know that I will stay here until I die before I will go out and say that this jury does not agree?” The man yielded, Tweed was convicted, sentenced and committed to jail.
Many years ago in the city of New York there was an organized set of dishonest men known as the Tweed Ring. They stole $51,000,000 from the State and city, and everybody knew it. When they told Tweed that he was under arrest, he dared to say, “Well, what are you going to do about it?” There was a merchant in New York named William Sloane. They put him on the Grand Jury. Because of his large business interests and the tremendous demands upon his time, he said, “I can not serve.” But earnest men said, “Here is the bulwark of sin and here is the need of righteousness.” Immediately he said, “I will serve.” Now, certain men on the jury had been bought up by Tweed. One man in particular stood out. For twenty-three hours that jury sat in council. They could not come to an agreement; this one man would not yield. Finally, Mr. Sloane put his hand on this man’s shoulder and said: “Do you know, sir, that the people whom we represent know the character of this man on trial? They know that we have explicit, convincing evidence against him. And do you know that I will stay here until I die before I will go out and say that this jury does not agree?” The man yielded, Tweed was convicted, sentenced and committed to jail.
There has never been a time in the history of our own land or in the history of Christendom when men standing for righteousness and truth have not accomplished something. It may sometimes mean their death. (Text.)
(582)
Convictions versus Cash—SeeResponsibility Affects Judgment.
Cooking, The Art of—SeeWaste, The Problem of.
COOLNESS
During the battle of Waterloo the Duke of Wellington appeared frequently among his men. Sergeant Cotton, in his book “A Voice from Waterloo,” says:
Whenever the Duke came, which at this momentous period was often, there was a low whisper in the ranks “Here’s the Duke!” and all was steady as on parade. No matter what the havoc and destruction might be, the Duke was always the coolest man there; in the words of an eye-witness of this bloody scene, the Duke was coolness personified.
Whenever the Duke came, which at this momentous period was often, there was a low whisper in the ranks “Here’s the Duke!” and all was steady as on parade. No matter what the havoc and destruction might be, the Duke was always the coolest man there; in the words of an eye-witness of this bloody scene, the Duke was coolness personified.
(583)
COOLNESS IN DANGER
Michael Henry Ryan, able seaman on the linerPhiladelphia, would rather drown than be rescued by means of a rope which had a poorly tied sailor’s knot in it. Ryan proved this by risking his life in mid-Atlantic waves until he could retie the knot.The rescue in itself was one of the most remarkable in the history of the American line. The captain from the bridge saw Ryan go over the side. It was too rough to launch a boat and the liner was stopt almost in its own length and sent astern so that it drifted down upon the struggling seaman. A line was lowered.When Ryan caught the rope he examined the knot. The sea was smashing him against the side of the ship.“Who tied this knot?” he called out to the men on deck. And then he calmly untied the knot and retied it in his own way. All the while he gave his opinion of the lubbers on deck and their inability to tie a knot. Then he put the loop under his arms and called out to those above to haul him up.—ChicagoTribune.
Michael Henry Ryan, able seaman on the linerPhiladelphia, would rather drown than be rescued by means of a rope which had a poorly tied sailor’s knot in it. Ryan proved this by risking his life in mid-Atlantic waves until he could retie the knot.
The rescue in itself was one of the most remarkable in the history of the American line. The captain from the bridge saw Ryan go over the side. It was too rough to launch a boat and the liner was stopt almost in its own length and sent astern so that it drifted down upon the struggling seaman. A line was lowered.
When Ryan caught the rope he examined the knot. The sea was smashing him against the side of the ship.
“Who tied this knot?” he called out to the men on deck. And then he calmly untied the knot and retied it in his own way. All the while he gave his opinion of the lubbers on deck and their inability to tie a knot. Then he put the loop under his arms and called out to those above to haul him up.—ChicagoTribune.
(584)
Cooperation—SeeHelp One Another;Working Together;World Improving.
Cooperation, Divine—SeeFaith in God;Growth, Cause of.
COOPERATION, LACK OF
An old Norse legend tells of a departed spirit meeting his guardian angel in the other world, and commiserating him upon his forlorn and haggard looks, only to receive the reproving reply: “No wonder I am worn out. All your life I have been fighting in your behalf, and I never got a bit of assistance from you.” (Text.)
An old Norse legend tells of a departed spirit meeting his guardian angel in the other world, and commiserating him upon his forlorn and haggard looks, only to receive the reproving reply: “No wonder I am worn out. All your life I have been fighting in your behalf, and I never got a bit of assistance from you.” (Text.)
(585)
COOPERATION WITH GOD
The farmer drops a seed into the ground and goes away and leaves it. It sprouts and grows, and by and by he reaps the harvestof the sowing, and he says, “I have harvested, I have raised so many bushels of corn to the acre.” Oh, no, he has not. He has sown so many seeds, he has cultivated so many acres, he has put in his sickle or his harvesting machine, and he has gathered so many stalks. But he could not have done it if some forces of nature had not been at work perfecting that which he began. He and nature, as we say—he and God, as I say—have worked together to raise the harvest. (Text.)—Lyman Abbott.
The farmer drops a seed into the ground and goes away and leaves it. It sprouts and grows, and by and by he reaps the harvestof the sowing, and he says, “I have harvested, I have raised so many bushels of corn to the acre.” Oh, no, he has not. He has sown so many seeds, he has cultivated so many acres, he has put in his sickle or his harvesting machine, and he has gathered so many stalks. But he could not have done it if some forces of nature had not been at work perfecting that which he began. He and nature, as we say—he and God, as I say—have worked together to raise the harvest. (Text.)—Lyman Abbott.
(586)
SeeGratitude.
COPYING VAIN
It would never make an arithmetician of a boy at school if he merely copied the solution of arithmetic problems from his neighbor’s slate or paper, even tho the solutions thus copied should be the correct ones. To become an arithmetician the boy must himself learn to solve problems; and this means that he must understand thoroughly every step in the process of solution. The process must go through him, or through his intelligence, as well as that he must go through the process. He must know what he is aiming at, and why it is that he adds, subtracts, multiplies, and divides, every time that he does any of these. Merely to put down figures on his paper, even should they be the right figures by chance, unless he understands the why and the when, would do him no good whatsoever. And it would not make the matter one whit better if he imagined the schoolmaster would be pleased with seeing him put down right figures without understanding what he was doing, or why he was doing it. The whole would only show that he was far back in intelligence, and would hardly ever become an arithmetician. We can not become truly religious either by being mere copiers of the religion of others, or by fetish worship.—Alexander Miller, “Heaven and Hell Here.”
It would never make an arithmetician of a boy at school if he merely copied the solution of arithmetic problems from his neighbor’s slate or paper, even tho the solutions thus copied should be the correct ones. To become an arithmetician the boy must himself learn to solve problems; and this means that he must understand thoroughly every step in the process of solution. The process must go through him, or through his intelligence, as well as that he must go through the process. He must know what he is aiming at, and why it is that he adds, subtracts, multiplies, and divides, every time that he does any of these. Merely to put down figures on his paper, even should they be the right figures by chance, unless he understands the why and the when, would do him no good whatsoever. And it would not make the matter one whit better if he imagined the schoolmaster would be pleased with seeing him put down right figures without understanding what he was doing, or why he was doing it. The whole would only show that he was far back in intelligence, and would hardly ever become an arithmetician. We can not become truly religious either by being mere copiers of the religion of others, or by fetish worship.—Alexander Miller, “Heaven and Hell Here.”
(587)
Cordiality—SeeHospitality in Church.
CORN VERSUS GOLD
Drop a grain of California gold into the ground, and there it will lie unchanged to the end of time, the clods on which it falls not more cold and lifeless. Drop a grain of our gold, of our blest gold, into the ground, and lo! a mystery. In a few days it softens, it swells, it shoots upward, it is a living thing. It is yellow itself, but it sends up a delicate spire, which comes peeping, emerald green, through the soil; it expands to a vigorous stalk; revels in the air and sunshine; arrays itself, more glorious than Solomon, in its broad, fluttering, leafy robes, whose sound, as the west wind whispers through them, falls as pleasantly on the husbandman’s ear as the rustle of his sweetheart’s garment; still towers aloft, spins its verdant skeins of vegetable floss, displays its dancing tassels, surcharged with fertilizing dust, and at last ripens into two or three magnificent batons like this [an ear of Indian corn], each of which is studded with hundreds of grains of gold, every one possessing the same wonderful properties as the parent grain, every one instinct with the same marvelous reproductive powers. There are seven hundred and twenty grains on the ear which I hold in my hand. I presume there were two or three such ears on the stalk. This would give us one thousand four hundred and forty, perhaps two thousand one hundred and sixty grains as the product of one. They would yield next season, if they were all successfully planted, four thousand two hundred, perhaps six thousand three hundred ears. Who does not see that, with this stupendous progression, the produce of one grain in a few years might feed all mankind? And yet with this visible creation annually springing and ripening around us, there are men who doubt, who deny the existence of God. Gold from the Sacramento River, sir! There is a sacrament in this ear of corn enough to bring an atheist to his knees.—Edward Everett.
Drop a grain of California gold into the ground, and there it will lie unchanged to the end of time, the clods on which it falls not more cold and lifeless. Drop a grain of our gold, of our blest gold, into the ground, and lo! a mystery. In a few days it softens, it swells, it shoots upward, it is a living thing. It is yellow itself, but it sends up a delicate spire, which comes peeping, emerald green, through the soil; it expands to a vigorous stalk; revels in the air and sunshine; arrays itself, more glorious than Solomon, in its broad, fluttering, leafy robes, whose sound, as the west wind whispers through them, falls as pleasantly on the husbandman’s ear as the rustle of his sweetheart’s garment; still towers aloft, spins its verdant skeins of vegetable floss, displays its dancing tassels, surcharged with fertilizing dust, and at last ripens into two or three magnificent batons like this [an ear of Indian corn], each of which is studded with hundreds of grains of gold, every one possessing the same wonderful properties as the parent grain, every one instinct with the same marvelous reproductive powers. There are seven hundred and twenty grains on the ear which I hold in my hand. I presume there were two or three such ears on the stalk. This would give us one thousand four hundred and forty, perhaps two thousand one hundred and sixty grains as the product of one. They would yield next season, if they were all successfully planted, four thousand two hundred, perhaps six thousand three hundred ears. Who does not see that, with this stupendous progression, the produce of one grain in a few years might feed all mankind? And yet with this visible creation annually springing and ripening around us, there are men who doubt, who deny the existence of God. Gold from the Sacramento River, sir! There is a sacrament in this ear of corn enough to bring an atheist to his knees.—Edward Everett.
(588)
CORRUPTION, INNER
Athenian society decayed at last, not at all because its artists had reached the limit of human invention, or its philosophers the necessary term of human thought, but because the moral faculties and tastes which should have presided in that society were not developed in proportion to the esthetic and intellectual powers which added to its ornament. It was outwardly like the statue of Minerva in the Parthenon, of costly ivory, overlaid with gold; but it was wood within; and the wood rotted; that is all that can be said of it. Then the cunning of the ivory, and the splendor of the gold, fell and were broken, and the nations gathered the shining fragments.—Richard S. Storrs.
Athenian society decayed at last, not at all because its artists had reached the limit of human invention, or its philosophers the necessary term of human thought, but because the moral faculties and tastes which should have presided in that society were not developed in proportion to the esthetic and intellectual powers which added to its ornament. It was outwardly like the statue of Minerva in the Parthenon, of costly ivory, overlaid with gold; but it was wood within; and the wood rotted; that is all that can be said of it. Then the cunning of the ivory, and the splendor of the gold, fell and were broken, and the nations gathered the shining fragments.—Richard S. Storrs.
(589)
COSMOLOGY, PRIMITIVE
Knowing nothing of the planetary system, early man had to account in his own way for the apparent fixity of the earth, and as theGreeks invented the giant Atlas, the Hindus contrived a huge turtle to bear the world upon its patient back. What sustained the giant or the monster, the ancient mind inquired not. To make everything out of anything and believe with implicit faith in his own creations was the happy faculty of early man, not entirely fallen from possession in these days of all-questioning. The first Egyptians knew that the heavens and the earth were formed by the breaking of the cosmic egg, an idea suggested by the resemblance of the skies to the half of an eggshell. That is as poetic and more agreeable than the Norse idea of a giant dashed to pieces to make earth, water, and starry firmament. The Mexican legend as to the creation of man resembles the Hebraic, clay and the breath of life admitted. But the North American Indians explain the mixt nature of man by declaring that the daughter of the Great Spirit, living in the wigwam, Mount Shasta, stole forth one day, was seized by a patriarchal grizzly, who took her home and wedded her to his son. Man was the result of this union. As a punishment for the sacrilege in contaminating the race of the Great Spirit, grizzlies were deprived the power of speech and made to wander ever after on all fours.—ChicagoInter-Ocean.
Knowing nothing of the planetary system, early man had to account in his own way for the apparent fixity of the earth, and as theGreeks invented the giant Atlas, the Hindus contrived a huge turtle to bear the world upon its patient back. What sustained the giant or the monster, the ancient mind inquired not. To make everything out of anything and believe with implicit faith in his own creations was the happy faculty of early man, not entirely fallen from possession in these days of all-questioning. The first Egyptians knew that the heavens and the earth were formed by the breaking of the cosmic egg, an idea suggested by the resemblance of the skies to the half of an eggshell. That is as poetic and more agreeable than the Norse idea of a giant dashed to pieces to make earth, water, and starry firmament. The Mexican legend as to the creation of man resembles the Hebraic, clay and the breath of life admitted. But the North American Indians explain the mixt nature of man by declaring that the daughter of the Great Spirit, living in the wigwam, Mount Shasta, stole forth one day, was seized by a patriarchal grizzly, who took her home and wedded her to his son. Man was the result of this union. As a punishment for the sacrilege in contaminating the race of the Great Spirit, grizzlies were deprived the power of speech and made to wander ever after on all fours.—ChicagoInter-Ocean.
(590)
Cosmopolitanism—SeeAmericanism, True.
Cosmopolitanism in Education—SeeEducation by Travel.
Cost of Disease—SeeHealth and Science.
COST RECKONED
When your child throws away a piece of bread, make him pick it up again and tell him the history of that piece of bread. Tell him what has been requisite that that bread might exist. Tell him of the toils of the plowman and of the sower, under the sky, inclement and changeful; the obscure bursting of the seed in the ground, the long sleep under the snow, the awakening in the spring, when the green life along the furrows makes its orisons to the sun, source of life. Describe the hope of the farmer when the corn puts forth its ears, and his anguish when the storm rises on the horizon. Do not forget the harvester who wields his scythe in the dog-day heat, and that poor prisoner of the cities, pledged to nocturnal toil in overheated cellars, the baker. (Text.)—Charles Wagner, “The Gospel of Life.”
When your child throws away a piece of bread, make him pick it up again and tell him the history of that piece of bread. Tell him what has been requisite that that bread might exist. Tell him of the toils of the plowman and of the sower, under the sky, inclement and changeful; the obscure bursting of the seed in the ground, the long sleep under the snow, the awakening in the spring, when the green life along the furrows makes its orisons to the sun, source of life. Describe the hope of the farmer when the corn puts forth its ears, and his anguish when the storm rises on the horizon. Do not forget the harvester who wields his scythe in the dog-day heat, and that poor prisoner of the cities, pledged to nocturnal toil in overheated cellars, the baker. (Text.)—Charles Wagner, “The Gospel of Life.”
(591)
COST, THE
In the Newark, N. J., public library is a statue of Benjamin Franklin carved in Carrara marble. It embodies an incident in his life. When a lad he bought a whistle from a playmate, giving all the coppers he possest for it. He whistled all over the house, until his brothers and sisters told him he had paid too much for the whistle, laughing at him until he cried from mortification and chagrin.
In the Newark, N. J., public library is a statue of Benjamin Franklin carved in Carrara marble. It embodies an incident in his life. When a lad he bought a whistle from a playmate, giving all the coppers he possest for it. He whistled all over the house, until his brothers and sisters told him he had paid too much for the whistle, laughing at him until he cried from mortification and chagrin.
Franklin was not the first nor the last to pay too much for the whistle. Music is not the only thing that may come at too high a price.
(592)
COUNTENANCE, GRACE IN THE
The face of the veteran missionary, John G. Paton, was itself an inspiration to the beholder and a revelation to the triumphs of the grace of God in the man. Once when Principal Story was introducing him to an audience, he casually remarked that much of Doctor Paton’s life had been spent among savages and cannibals, and many a time he had been in danger of being killed and eaten, but had escaped unscathed. “But,” added Principal Story, “I do not wonder, for had I been one of those cannibals, one look at that benignant face would have been enough to make me a vegetarian for the rest of my days.” (Text.)
The face of the veteran missionary, John G. Paton, was itself an inspiration to the beholder and a revelation to the triumphs of the grace of God in the man. Once when Principal Story was introducing him to an audience, he casually remarked that much of Doctor Paton’s life had been spent among savages and cannibals, and many a time he had been in danger of being killed and eaten, but had escaped unscathed. “But,” added Principal Story, “I do not wonder, for had I been one of those cannibals, one look at that benignant face would have been enough to make me a vegetarian for the rest of my days.” (Text.)
(593)
Counterfeiters—SeeCriminals, Tracing.
COUNTRY ADVANTAGES
Only forty-seven per cent of our population of working age reside in the country districts; they furnish fifty-seven per cent of our successful men, while the cities, with twenty per cent of the population, furnish seventeen per cent.
Only forty-seven per cent of our population of working age reside in the country districts; they furnish fifty-seven per cent of our successful men, while the cities, with twenty per cent of the population, furnish seventeen per cent.
(594)
COUNTRY, A NEW
A Chinese lived in Yokohama some twelve years ago. He was a house-painter by occupation, and went about wearing a very much bedaubed suit of clothes, caked here and there with white and green and yellow. He was a Christian and attended church regularly. When the leader said, “Let any one pray who will,” John never failed to take part. The gladness of his soul spoke itself forth in a kind of Cantonned Japanese, thefull meaning of which was known to himself and God only. When theShinasan(Mr. Chinaman) prayed, many a face in the room became wreathed in smiles, and sometimes a hand was necessary over the mouth to help hold the hearer steady. John paid no attention; he cared not who laughed at his prayers, he was happy, God had forgiven him; and tho a Chinese, he said good-by to the world, and cut his cue off. One day a Korean friend met him and said, “Honorable sir from the great country, where is your cue?” “Cue? Cue belong no good, makee cut off.” “But you will not dare to go home, you have lost your country.” “Maskeecountry,” said John; “my country belongHtien-kuoa, Htien-kuoa” (“heaven, heaven”), pointing upward.—James S. Gale, “Korea in Transition.”
A Chinese lived in Yokohama some twelve years ago. He was a house-painter by occupation, and went about wearing a very much bedaubed suit of clothes, caked here and there with white and green and yellow. He was a Christian and attended church regularly. When the leader said, “Let any one pray who will,” John never failed to take part. The gladness of his soul spoke itself forth in a kind of Cantonned Japanese, thefull meaning of which was known to himself and God only. When theShinasan(Mr. Chinaman) prayed, many a face in the room became wreathed in smiles, and sometimes a hand was necessary over the mouth to help hold the hearer steady. John paid no attention; he cared not who laughed at his prayers, he was happy, God had forgiven him; and tho a Chinese, he said good-by to the world, and cut his cue off. One day a Korean friend met him and said, “Honorable sir from the great country, where is your cue?” “Cue? Cue belong no good, makee cut off.” “But you will not dare to go home, you have lost your country.” “Maskeecountry,” said John; “my country belongHtien-kuoa, Htien-kuoa” (“heaven, heaven”), pointing upward.—James S. Gale, “Korea in Transition.”
(595)
Country Church—SeeChurch, The Country.
COUNTRY, LONGING FOR THE
If out beyond the city’s farthest edgeThere were no roads that led through sleepy towns,No winds to blow through any thorny hedge,No pathways over hazel-tufted downs,I might not, when the day begins, be sadBecause I toil among the money-mad.If out beyond the distant hill there layNo valley graced by any winding stream,And if no slim, white steeples far awayMight mark the spots where drowsy hamlets dream,I could, perhaps, at midday be contentWhere striving millions at their tasks are bent.If far away from noise and strife and careThere were no buds to swell on waiting trees,No mating birds to spill upon the airThe liquid sweetness of their melodiesI might, at sunset be serene and proudBecause a few had seen me in the crowd.—The ChicagoRecord-Herald.
If out beyond the city’s farthest edgeThere were no roads that led through sleepy towns,No winds to blow through any thorny hedge,No pathways over hazel-tufted downs,I might not, when the day begins, be sadBecause I toil among the money-mad.If out beyond the distant hill there layNo valley graced by any winding stream,And if no slim, white steeples far awayMight mark the spots where drowsy hamlets dream,I could, perhaps, at midday be contentWhere striving millions at their tasks are bent.If far away from noise and strife and careThere were no buds to swell on waiting trees,No mating birds to spill upon the airThe liquid sweetness of their melodiesI might, at sunset be serene and proudBecause a few had seen me in the crowd.—The ChicagoRecord-Herald.
If out beyond the city’s farthest edgeThere were no roads that led through sleepy towns,No winds to blow through any thorny hedge,No pathways over hazel-tufted downs,I might not, when the day begins, be sadBecause I toil among the money-mad.
If out beyond the city’s farthest edge
There were no roads that led through sleepy towns,
No winds to blow through any thorny hedge,
No pathways over hazel-tufted downs,
I might not, when the day begins, be sad
Because I toil among the money-mad.
If out beyond the distant hill there layNo valley graced by any winding stream,And if no slim, white steeples far awayMight mark the spots where drowsy hamlets dream,I could, perhaps, at midday be contentWhere striving millions at their tasks are bent.
If out beyond the distant hill there lay
No valley graced by any winding stream,
And if no slim, white steeples far away
Might mark the spots where drowsy hamlets dream,
I could, perhaps, at midday be content
Where striving millions at their tasks are bent.
If far away from noise and strife and careThere were no buds to swell on waiting trees,No mating birds to spill upon the airThe liquid sweetness of their melodiesI might, at sunset be serene and proudBecause a few had seen me in the crowd.—The ChicagoRecord-Herald.
If far away from noise and strife and care
There were no buds to swell on waiting trees,
No mating birds to spill upon the air
The liquid sweetness of their melodies
I might, at sunset be serene and proud
Because a few had seen me in the crowd.
—The ChicagoRecord-Herald.
(596)
Country, Love of—SeeFidelity;Home Where the Heart is.
Country, Serving One’s—SeeSeeking Service.
COURAGE