Charles A. Spencer was a lens-maker, and devoted years to the perfection of achromatic lenses. He had devised a process so delicate that he could adjust the curve of the lens so as to increase the defining and resolving power of the lens beyond all other opticians. But a fire destroyed his shop and nearly all of his tools, which had taken years of toil and study to construct, together with a large amount of finished and unfinished work. He was badly crippled, and had to begin all over again, and only with the utmost toil and perseverance was he able, little by little, to replace the necessary tools and recover his former position.—James T. White, “Character Lessons.”
Charles A. Spencer was a lens-maker, and devoted years to the perfection of achromatic lenses. He had devised a process so delicate that he could adjust the curve of the lens so as to increase the defining and resolving power of the lens beyond all other opticians. But a fire destroyed his shop and nearly all of his tools, which had taken years of toil and study to construct, together with a large amount of finished and unfinished work. He was badly crippled, and had to begin all over again, and only with the utmost toil and perseverance was he able, little by little, to replace the necessary tools and recover his former position.—James T. White, “Character Lessons.”
(1338)
HANDIWORK OF NATURE
The down upon the peach or plum is so delicate and so thickly set that one can not touch the fruit with a needle’s point without breaking the tender stalk; and yet the dew of the night covers the whole surface of the fruit and disappears in the morning, leaving the gossamer growth more orderly and beautiful than before. The dew covers every leaf of the giant oak, and the mighty tree drinks in the refreshing moisture to its thirsty heart through millions of pores, and the iron trunk which has withstood a thousand storms is made stronger by the gentlestrength of the dew. The silent fall of the dew is caused and controlled by agencies of the most tremendous power; the same power that shakes a whole continent with its subterranean thunder is the same as that which encircles the finest filament of thistle-down with a coronet of dewy gems so small that they do not bend the delicate stalks with their weight.—LondonGlobe.
The down upon the peach or plum is so delicate and so thickly set that one can not touch the fruit with a needle’s point without breaking the tender stalk; and yet the dew of the night covers the whole surface of the fruit and disappears in the morning, leaving the gossamer growth more orderly and beautiful than before. The dew covers every leaf of the giant oak, and the mighty tree drinks in the refreshing moisture to its thirsty heart through millions of pores, and the iron trunk which has withstood a thousand storms is made stronger by the gentlestrength of the dew. The silent fall of the dew is caused and controlled by agencies of the most tremendous power; the same power that shakes a whole continent with its subterranean thunder is the same as that which encircles the finest filament of thistle-down with a coronet of dewy gems so small that they do not bend the delicate stalks with their weight.—LondonGlobe.
(1339)
HANDS, HELPING
A German legend tells of a poor lad, the only son of his widowed mother, who went out every morning to earn bread for both, when he found a pair of giant hands helping him in every task.
A German legend tells of a poor lad, the only son of his widowed mother, who went out every morning to earn bread for both, when he found a pair of giant hands helping him in every task.
What are the forces of nature when enlisted on one’s side but just such giant hands?
(1340)
HAPPINESS
The stream is not marred, it is made only more beautiful, when broken by rocks, and sweeping through eddies, than when silently gliding through the sodded canal. And so the happiness which is found in a course passed amid the conditions that invest us in this life, may be only brighter, more full and more animated, for its very interruptions. The pleasure shall be more radiant than ever, when contrasting the darkness of an overpast sorrow.—Richard S. Storrs.
The stream is not marred, it is made only more beautiful, when broken by rocks, and sweeping through eddies, than when silently gliding through the sodded canal. And so the happiness which is found in a course passed amid the conditions that invest us in this life, may be only brighter, more full and more animated, for its very interruptions. The pleasure shall be more radiant than ever, when contrasting the darkness of an overpast sorrow.—Richard S. Storrs.
(1341)
Dr. Raffles once said: “I have made it a rule never to be with any one ten minutes without trying to make him happier.” It was a remark of Dr. Dwight that one who makes a little child happier for half an hour is a fellow worker with God.A little boy said to his mother: “I couldn’t make sister happy nohow I could fix it. But I made myself happy trying to make her happy.” “I make Jim happy,” said another boy, speaking of his invalid brother. “He laughs and that makes me happy, and I laugh.” “To love and to be loved,” said Sydney Smith, “is the greatest happiness of existence.”
Dr. Raffles once said: “I have made it a rule never to be with any one ten minutes without trying to make him happier.” It was a remark of Dr. Dwight that one who makes a little child happier for half an hour is a fellow worker with God.
A little boy said to his mother: “I couldn’t make sister happy nohow I could fix it. But I made myself happy trying to make her happy.” “I make Jim happy,” said another boy, speaking of his invalid brother. “He laughs and that makes me happy, and I laugh.” “To love and to be loved,” said Sydney Smith, “is the greatest happiness of existence.”
(1342)
HAPPINESS AS A GOD
Entomologists tell us that millions of insects, generations whose numbers must be counted by myriads, are born and die within the compass of one summer’s day. Perfected with the morning, they flutter through their sunny life; and the evening, when it turns its shadow upon the earth, becomes to their animated and tuneful being a universal grave. It is impossible to understand for what end this is done, unless we accept the happiness which these share, as a good in itself; a good so great, in the judgment of the Creator, and of those who look with Him on the creation, as to justify the expenditure of such wisdom and force on their delicate, harmonious, but ephemeral structure; and to make this structure illustrative of His glory.—Richard S. Storrs.
Entomologists tell us that millions of insects, generations whose numbers must be counted by myriads, are born and die within the compass of one summer’s day. Perfected with the morning, they flutter through their sunny life; and the evening, when it turns its shadow upon the earth, becomes to their animated and tuneful being a universal grave. It is impossible to understand for what end this is done, unless we accept the happiness which these share, as a good in itself; a good so great, in the judgment of the Creator, and of those who look with Him on the creation, as to justify the expenditure of such wisdom and force on their delicate, harmonious, but ephemeral structure; and to make this structure illustrative of His glory.—Richard S. Storrs.
(1343)
HAPPINESS COMMUNICATED
In Los Angeles, when the rose festival comes, the child, going through the streets, breathes perfume, and for days the sweetness clings to the garments. And all good men exhale happiness as they pass through life.—N. D. Hillis.
In Los Angeles, when the rose festival comes, the child, going through the streets, breathes perfume, and for days the sweetness clings to the garments. And all good men exhale happiness as they pass through life.—N. D. Hillis.
(1344)
HAPPINESS, DEARTH OF
Lord Byron, who drank of every cup that earth could give him, and who had all the ministries of earth around him, with an intellectual and physical nature that could dive down into deepest depths and could soar to the highest heights, whose wings when spread could touch either pole, just before he died, sitting in a gay company, was meditative and moody. They looked at him and said, “Byron, what are you thinking so seriously about?” “Oh,” he said, “I was sitting here counting up the number of happy days I have had in this world. I can count but eleven, and I was wondering if I would ever make up the dozen in this world of tears and pangs and sorrows.” (Text.)—“Famous Stories of Sam P. Jones.”
Lord Byron, who drank of every cup that earth could give him, and who had all the ministries of earth around him, with an intellectual and physical nature that could dive down into deepest depths and could soar to the highest heights, whose wings when spread could touch either pole, just before he died, sitting in a gay company, was meditative and moody. They looked at him and said, “Byron, what are you thinking so seriously about?” “Oh,” he said, “I was sitting here counting up the number of happy days I have had in this world. I can count but eleven, and I was wondering if I would ever make up the dozen in this world of tears and pangs and sorrows.” (Text.)—“Famous Stories of Sam P. Jones.”
(1345)
HAPPINESS FROM WITHIN
We think that if a certain event were to come to pass, if some rare good fortune should befall us, our stock of happiness would be permanently increased, but the chances are that it would not; after a time we should settle back to the old every-day level. We should get used to the new conditions, the new prosperity, and find life wearing essentially the same tints as before. Our pond is fed from hidden springs; happiness is from within, and outward circumstances have but little power over it.—John Habberton,The Chautauquan.
We think that if a certain event were to come to pass, if some rare good fortune should befall us, our stock of happiness would be permanently increased, but the chances are that it would not; after a time we should settle back to the old every-day level. We should get used to the new conditions, the new prosperity, and find life wearing essentially the same tints as before. Our pond is fed from hidden springs; happiness is from within, and outward circumstances have but little power over it.—John Habberton,The Chautauquan.
(1346)
HAPPINESS, IMPARTING
A poor man went into a wealthy merchant’s counting-house one day and saw piles of bank-notes which the clerks were busy in counting. The poor man thought of his desolate home, and the needs of his family, and, almost without thinking, he said to himself,“Ah! how happy a very little of that money would make me!” The merchant overheard him. “What is that you say, my friend?” The poor man was confused, and begged to be excused, as he did not intend to say anything. But the kind-hearted merchant wouldn’t excuse him, and so the man had to repeat what he had said. “Well,” said the merchant, “how much would it take to make you happy?” “Oh, I don’t know, sir,” said he, “but the weather is very cold, and I have no fuel; my wife and children are thinly clad, sir, for I have been sick. But we don’t want much. I think, sir, about fifteen dollars would get us all we need.” “John,” said the merchant to his clerk, “count this man out fifteen dollars.” The poor man’s heart was made glad, and when he got home, his family were made happy. At the close of the day, the clerk asked his employer how he should enter on his books the money given. He answered: “Say, ‘For making a man happy, fifteen dollars.’” Perhaps that was the happiest fifteen dollars the merchant himself had ever spent. (Text.)
A poor man went into a wealthy merchant’s counting-house one day and saw piles of bank-notes which the clerks were busy in counting. The poor man thought of his desolate home, and the needs of his family, and, almost without thinking, he said to himself,“Ah! how happy a very little of that money would make me!” The merchant overheard him. “What is that you say, my friend?” The poor man was confused, and begged to be excused, as he did not intend to say anything. But the kind-hearted merchant wouldn’t excuse him, and so the man had to repeat what he had said. “Well,” said the merchant, “how much would it take to make you happy?” “Oh, I don’t know, sir,” said he, “but the weather is very cold, and I have no fuel; my wife and children are thinly clad, sir, for I have been sick. But we don’t want much. I think, sir, about fifteen dollars would get us all we need.” “John,” said the merchant to his clerk, “count this man out fifteen dollars.” The poor man’s heart was made glad, and when he got home, his family were made happy. At the close of the day, the clerk asked his employer how he should enter on his books the money given. He answered: “Say, ‘For making a man happy, fifteen dollars.’” Perhaps that was the happiest fifteen dollars the merchant himself had ever spent. (Text.)
(1347)
HAPPINESS, RULES FOR
Mrs. Alice Freeman Palmer was once talking to a girls’ club, composed of the unkempt and unprivileged daughters of Eve, and gave them three rules for happiness in the promise that they would keep the rules every day for a week. The rules were, for each day:First—Commit to memory a worthy sentence.Second—Do something for others.Third—See something beautiful.She met a while after one little girl who declared that she had fulfilled her promise every day; but that one day, when mother was sick, she could not go to the park to see something beautiful, and thought she had lost it, but while doing something for others, in the way of caring for the baby, she looked out of the attic window of her squalid home, and saw a common sparrow, and as she looked at the little fellow, the dark feathers around his throat appearing to her like a smart necktie, she found her vision of the beautiful in what many would consider the most ordinary of all God’s feathered songsters. Oh, but she arrived! arrived in spite of the commonplace which seemed to fetter her, and sunshine came of a dreary day into a dreary room, because of the purpose of her soul.—Nehemiah Boynton.
Mrs. Alice Freeman Palmer was once talking to a girls’ club, composed of the unkempt and unprivileged daughters of Eve, and gave them three rules for happiness in the promise that they would keep the rules every day for a week. The rules were, for each day:
First—Commit to memory a worthy sentence.
Second—Do something for others.
Third—See something beautiful.
She met a while after one little girl who declared that she had fulfilled her promise every day; but that one day, when mother was sick, she could not go to the park to see something beautiful, and thought she had lost it, but while doing something for others, in the way of caring for the baby, she looked out of the attic window of her squalid home, and saw a common sparrow, and as she looked at the little fellow, the dark feathers around his throat appearing to her like a smart necktie, she found her vision of the beautiful in what many would consider the most ordinary of all God’s feathered songsters. Oh, but she arrived! arrived in spite of the commonplace which seemed to fetter her, and sunshine came of a dreary day into a dreary room, because of the purpose of her soul.—Nehemiah Boynton.
(1348)
HARDNESS OF HEART
The souls of men are not like the “constant” quantities of the mathematician. Divine love softens the hardest human hearts.
A mass of ironstone, dark and adamantine, flies through space and suddenly impinges on our atmosphere. There is a flash in the air and men gaze on the apparition of the blazing meteor. They have seen an aerolite. The soft, invisible, impalpable atmosphere receives the hard, ferruginous aerolite and at once melts it. (Text.)
A mass of ironstone, dark and adamantine, flies through space and suddenly impinges on our atmosphere. There is a flash in the air and men gaze on the apparition of the blazing meteor. They have seen an aerolite. The soft, invisible, impalpable atmosphere receives the hard, ferruginous aerolite and at once melts it. (Text.)
(1349)
HARDSHIP, MISSIONARY
Egerton Young gives below an experience as missionary to the Indians of British Columbia. He shows the spirit of Him who shared the sorrows of man to save the world:
I have seen Indians eighty years of age who never saw a loaf of bread, or a cake, or a pie. When my wife and I went out there we lived as they did; we lived on fish twenty-one times a week for months together, and for weeks together we did not average two good meals a day. For years we did not begin to live as well as the thieves and murderers in the penitentiaries of Great Britain and America. But it was a blest work, and we were happy in it. (Text.)
I have seen Indians eighty years of age who never saw a loaf of bread, or a cake, or a pie. When my wife and I went out there we lived as they did; we lived on fish twenty-one times a week for months together, and for weeks together we did not average two good meals a day. For years we did not begin to live as well as the thieves and murderers in the penitentiaries of Great Britain and America. But it was a blest work, and we were happy in it. (Text.)
(1350)
Hardship Overcome—SeeCollege or Experience.
HARDSHIP VICARIOUSLY BORNE
More than eighty years ago a fierce war raged in India between the English and Tipu 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.)—Sophie Bronson Titterington.
More than eighty years ago a fierce war raged in India between the English and Tipu 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.)—Sophie Bronson Titterington.
(1351)
Harmony—SeeRapport.
HARMONY IS GOD’S WORK
In “Famous Stories of Sam P. Jones” may be found this bit of wisdom:
A well-trained musician sits down to a piano and sweeps his fingers over the keys. A cloud gathers on his face as he recognizes a discord in the instrument. What is the matter? Three of the keys are out of harmony. These three keys that are out of harmony are out of harmony with everything in the universe that is in harmony. I say to that musician, “Close up that piano and let it alone until it puts itself in harmony.” He replies, “It is impossible for the piano to put itself in harmony.” “Who can put it in harmony?” I ask. He replies, “The man who made the instrument. The instrument is put into the hands of the man who made it, and in a few hours every key on the piano is in harmony, and the piano being in harmony with itself is in harmony with everything else in the universe.”
A well-trained musician sits down to a piano and sweeps his fingers over the keys. A cloud gathers on his face as he recognizes a discord in the instrument. What is the matter? Three of the keys are out of harmony. These three keys that are out of harmony are out of harmony with everything in the universe that is in harmony. I say to that musician, “Close up that piano and let it alone until it puts itself in harmony.” He replies, “It is impossible for the piano to put itself in harmony.” “Who can put it in harmony?” I ask. He replies, “The man who made the instrument. The instrument is put into the hands of the man who made it, and in a few hours every key on the piano is in harmony, and the piano being in harmony with itself is in harmony with everything else in the universe.”
God alone can put discordant souls into harmony.
(1352)
HARMONY, ULTIMATE
The dome of the Baptistry at Pisa has this wonderful quality, that it is so fashioned that no matter how discordant the sounds received may be they are returned softened and harmonized.
The dome of the Baptistry at Pisa has this wonderful quality, that it is so fashioned that no matter how discordant the sounds received may be they are returned softened and harmonized.
So shall it yet be with the discords of earth in the new heaven when all shall have been baptized into the same spirit.
(1353)
HARP, THE, AS A SACRED INSTRUMENT
The harp is by common consent supposed to be the musical instrument of the angels, and many a clerical metaphor has been made regarding “the celestial harps,” “the golden harps,” etc. The metaphor is probably taken by very few as a fixt truth, but is nevertheless to the musician an interesting and also a reverential one. At the time that the Scriptures were written the harp was the finest instrument possest by man, and in ascribing it to the angels an effort was made to represent the music of heaven by the noblest tones of earth. Were we to imagine celestial music to-day it would be the roll of heavenly orchestras, and some of the old Italian painters scarcely made a musical error in depicting their angels as playing on violins. The violin is the noblest earthly instrument, and is far beyond the harp in its representation of bliss. Meanwhile, Schumann and Berlioz (in Faust) have used the harp to picture celestial joys, while Wagner has used the violins in a soft tremolo in highest positions, combined in sweet tones of wood wind. Nevertheless, association of ideas is much in music, and the harp must always call up the idea of heaven in the minds of many. (Text.)—BostonMusical Herald.
The harp is by common consent supposed to be the musical instrument of the angels, and many a clerical metaphor has been made regarding “the celestial harps,” “the golden harps,” etc. The metaphor is probably taken by very few as a fixt truth, but is nevertheless to the musician an interesting and also a reverential one. At the time that the Scriptures were written the harp was the finest instrument possest by man, and in ascribing it to the angels an effort was made to represent the music of heaven by the noblest tones of earth. Were we to imagine celestial music to-day it would be the roll of heavenly orchestras, and some of the old Italian painters scarcely made a musical error in depicting their angels as playing on violins. The violin is the noblest earthly instrument, and is far beyond the harp in its representation of bliss. Meanwhile, Schumann and Berlioz (in Faust) have used the harp to picture celestial joys, while Wagner has used the violins in a soft tremolo in highest positions, combined in sweet tones of wood wind. Nevertheless, association of ideas is much in music, and the harp must always call up the idea of heaven in the minds of many. (Text.)—BostonMusical Herald.
(1354)
HARSHNESS, FAILURE OF
What harshness in fathers, who fear to praise their children! What severity in some teachers! What bitterness in our muck-rakers and reformers! How seldom do we find a man who can speak the truth, and speak it in love. Yet there are some things that harshness can not do. In February the clods are hard, the seeds dead, the roots inert, the boughs leafless. Now let nature speak in terms of power. She lets loose the north wind, to smite the branches; she beats the bare clods with hail and snow. In a tempest of fury she commands the earth to awaken. But power is impotent; not a root stirs, not a seed moves. Then, when the storms and winds have published their weakness, the south wind comes softly wooing. Summer speaks in love. The mother heart caresses each sleeping seed, and wakens it with bosom pressure. And every root and bough answers with beauty and radiant loveliness. Amid this is the parable of influence, that rebukes man’s harshness, and smites those who turn justice into cruelty and cause their good to be evil spoken of.—N. D. Hillis.
What harshness in fathers, who fear to praise their children! What severity in some teachers! What bitterness in our muck-rakers and reformers! How seldom do we find a man who can speak the truth, and speak it in love. Yet there are some things that harshness can not do. In February the clods are hard, the seeds dead, the roots inert, the boughs leafless. Now let nature speak in terms of power. She lets loose the north wind, to smite the branches; she beats the bare clods with hail and snow. In a tempest of fury she commands the earth to awaken. But power is impotent; not a root stirs, not a seed moves. Then, when the storms and winds have published their weakness, the south wind comes softly wooing. Summer speaks in love. The mother heart caresses each sleeping seed, and wakens it with bosom pressure. And every root and bough answers with beauty and radiant loveliness. Amid this is the parable of influence, that rebukes man’s harshness, and smites those who turn justice into cruelty and cause their good to be evil spoken of.—N. D. Hillis.
(1355)
Harvest—SeeFertility.
Harvest Failures—SeeChoked.
HARVEST FROM EARLY SOWING
A little girl had been promised a handsome Bible for her birthday. On hearing a missionary tell of the need of Bibles in India, the child asked if she might not have two Bibles, each half as handsome as the one her mother was planning to give her. Her mother consented and the little girl wrote her name in one of them and gave it to the missionary to send to India. Years afterward a lady missionary was telling the story of the love of Jesus to a few women, when one of them exclaimed: “Oh, I know all about that. I have a book which tells me these things.” She brought the book to the missionary, who, on opening it, saw with astonishment her own name on the fly-leaf! It was the very birthday Bible she had sent out years before as a little girl and it had led to the conversion of its reader. (Text.)
A little girl had been promised a handsome Bible for her birthday. On hearing a missionary tell of the need of Bibles in India, the child asked if she might not have two Bibles, each half as handsome as the one her mother was planning to give her. Her mother consented and the little girl wrote her name in one of them and gave it to the missionary to send to India. Years afterward a lady missionary was telling the story of the love of Jesus to a few women, when one of them exclaimed: “Oh, I know all about that. I have a book which tells me these things.” She brought the book to the missionary, who, on opening it, saw with astonishment her own name on the fly-leaf! It was the very birthday Bible she had sent out years before as a little girl and it had led to the conversion of its reader. (Text.)
(1356)
Harvest-raising—SeeCooperation with God.
Haste—SeePainstaking.
HASTE WITHOUT SELF-CONTROL
Emerson, in his acute observations on manners, declares that there is nothing “so inelegant as haste,” meaning by this the haste which is a hurry. Haste which the occasion demands is never undignified. A fireman running to a fire is a rather inspiriting sight. We would despise him if he walked. It is rushing in the ordinary affairs of life, which demand deliberation, steadiness, control, that destroys dignity and so destroys good manners. The man in a hurry, we feel at once, is so because he is not master of the situation. He would not be compelled to gorge his breakfast, to walk so fast that he looks like an animated wagon-wheel, or to slight his work, if he had his affairs in control.—Chautauquan.
Emerson, in his acute observations on manners, declares that there is nothing “so inelegant as haste,” meaning by this the haste which is a hurry. Haste which the occasion demands is never undignified. A fireman running to a fire is a rather inspiriting sight. We would despise him if he walked. It is rushing in the ordinary affairs of life, which demand deliberation, steadiness, control, that destroys dignity and so destroys good manners. The man in a hurry, we feel at once, is so because he is not master of the situation. He would not be compelled to gorge his breakfast, to walk so fast that he looks like an animated wagon-wheel, or to slight his work, if he had his affairs in control.—Chautauquan.
(1357)
Hasty Action—SeeRetaliation.
HAVOC THAT SPREADS
Vernon L. Kellogg points out how the evil of the great grasshopper plague that visited some Western States about forty years ago, entailed disaster on the whole country:
Over thousands and thousands of square miles of the great granary of the land were spread the hordes of hoppers. Farmers and stockmen were being ruined. Then the storekeepers and bankers that sell things and lend money to the farmers. Then the lawyers and doctors that depend on the farmers’ troubles to earn a living. Then the millers and stock-brokers and capitalists of the great cities that make their fortunes out of handling and buying and selling the grains the farmers send in long trains to the centers of population. Everybody, the whole country, was aghast and appalled at the havoc of the hopper. (Text.)—“Insect Stories.”
Over thousands and thousands of square miles of the great granary of the land were spread the hordes of hoppers. Farmers and stockmen were being ruined. Then the storekeepers and bankers that sell things and lend money to the farmers. Then the lawyers and doctors that depend on the farmers’ troubles to earn a living. Then the millers and stock-brokers and capitalists of the great cities that make their fortunes out of handling and buying and selling the grains the farmers send in long trains to the centers of population. Everybody, the whole country, was aghast and appalled at the havoc of the hopper. (Text.)—“Insect Stories.”
(1358)
Head-hunters—SeeBarbarism.
Headlight Requirements—SeeIllumination.
HEADS, LOSING
I was preaching for a single Sabbath in Brooklyn. In the course of my discourse I lost my head; in fact, I lost all of them. Three were on paper, and one on my shoulders; and they all went at once.I tried to remember what I had had in my head, but, like the old king’s dream, the matter had gone from me.I tried to decipher what I had put upon paper, but the writing had faded out.Everything was gone except the audience, and I could have wished that they were gone, too.I pounded the desk; I pawed the floor; I clawed the air. I poured whole broadsides of big dictionary into those long-suffering people, but without a single scintilla of sense.At last I struck a line of thought, and clutched it with the grip of despair, and pulled myself out of the hole in which I had been floundering, and then limped along to a “lame conclusion.”And then so mortified was I that I would have sunk through the floor, could I have found a vacant nail-hole. As that was out of the question, I would fain have sneaked away without speaking to a human being; but, as bad luck would have it, I had promised to go home to dinner with the Hon. William Richardson, one of the most cultured members of the congregation.We walked some distance before either spoke a word. Finally, I broke silence—I felt like breaking everything in sight—and I said, “Richardson, was not that the very worst you ever heard?”“What do you mean?” he asked.“Mean?” I replied, catching savagely at the word. “‘Mean’ is no name for it. Youmust have noticed how under the third head of my discourse I lost my head, and ripped and raved and tore around like a lunatic. What did the people think of it?”“Think of it? Think of it?” he repeated with sincere surprize. “Why, they thought it was the best part of the whole sermon.”And then I said to myself, and I said to him, “What is the use of talking sense to the people when they like the other so much better?” Possibly this may serve to account for the fact that these same people subsequently called me to become their pastor.—P. S. Henson,Christian Endeavor World.
I was preaching for a single Sabbath in Brooklyn. In the course of my discourse I lost my head; in fact, I lost all of them. Three were on paper, and one on my shoulders; and they all went at once.
I tried to remember what I had had in my head, but, like the old king’s dream, the matter had gone from me.
I tried to decipher what I had put upon paper, but the writing had faded out.
Everything was gone except the audience, and I could have wished that they were gone, too.
I pounded the desk; I pawed the floor; I clawed the air. I poured whole broadsides of big dictionary into those long-suffering people, but without a single scintilla of sense.
At last I struck a line of thought, and clutched it with the grip of despair, and pulled myself out of the hole in which I had been floundering, and then limped along to a “lame conclusion.”
And then so mortified was I that I would have sunk through the floor, could I have found a vacant nail-hole. As that was out of the question, I would fain have sneaked away without speaking to a human being; but, as bad luck would have it, I had promised to go home to dinner with the Hon. William Richardson, one of the most cultured members of the congregation.
We walked some distance before either spoke a word. Finally, I broke silence—I felt like breaking everything in sight—and I said, “Richardson, was not that the very worst you ever heard?”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“Mean?” I replied, catching savagely at the word. “‘Mean’ is no name for it. Youmust have noticed how under the third head of my discourse I lost my head, and ripped and raved and tore around like a lunatic. What did the people think of it?”
“Think of it? Think of it?” he repeated with sincere surprize. “Why, they thought it was the best part of the whole sermon.”
And then I said to myself, and I said to him, “What is the use of talking sense to the people when they like the other so much better?” Possibly this may serve to account for the fact that these same people subsequently called me to become their pastor.—P. S. Henson,Christian Endeavor World.
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Headstrong—SeeWilfulness.
HEAD-WORK
“He puzzled me at first,” said a physician who had engaged a young college student to take some care of his office. “He put actual head-work into his sweeping and dusting, and he showed remarkable carefulness and dexterity in handling articles, never disarranging or misplacing them. I found that he is studying music as well as Latin, and aims to be a pianist one of these days. Do you see, he simply applied the skill he had attained in a finer art to the rougher work he did for me? It speaks well for his future that he did it.”This ennobling and harmonizing of the coarser task by means of the skill acquired at a finer one, marks the difference between cheap work and expert work. The careless man never sees the connection between two varieties of labor, but the man who does not mean to waste the least of his talents puts his whole mind, all his manual skill, into whatever necessary task is set before him. And this application of skill to diverse ends heightens in itself that very force of skill, so that the man who uses the best he has for each new need becomes a stronger and more able man. (Text.)—Young People.
“He puzzled me at first,” said a physician who had engaged a young college student to take some care of his office. “He put actual head-work into his sweeping and dusting, and he showed remarkable carefulness and dexterity in handling articles, never disarranging or misplacing them. I found that he is studying music as well as Latin, and aims to be a pianist one of these days. Do you see, he simply applied the skill he had attained in a finer art to the rougher work he did for me? It speaks well for his future that he did it.”
This ennobling and harmonizing of the coarser task by means of the skill acquired at a finer one, marks the difference between cheap work and expert work. The careless man never sees the connection between two varieties of labor, but the man who does not mean to waste the least of his talents puts his whole mind, all his manual skill, into whatever necessary task is set before him. And this application of skill to diverse ends heightens in itself that very force of skill, so that the man who uses the best he has for each new need becomes a stronger and more able man. (Text.)—Young People.
(1360)
Head-work Unremunerative—SeeIll-paid Work.
Healing—SeeChrist, A Therapeutic.
Healing Spells—SeeRemedies, Strange.
Healing, The Gift of—SeeGod Sends Gifts.
HEALING WATERS
Traversing Thrace is a wonderful river flowing west and south toward the Egean Sea, named the Tearus. It is said to come from thirty-eight springs, all issuing from the same rock, some hot and some cold. The waters so mingling are pure, limpid and delicious, and are possest of remarkable medicinal properties, being efficacious for the cure of various diseases. Darius was so much pleased with this river that his army halted on its march to refresh itself with its waters. And a monument was erected at the spot as a memorial of the march, and also as a tribute to the salubrity of the waters of this magical stream. (Text.)
Traversing Thrace is a wonderful river flowing west and south toward the Egean Sea, named the Tearus. It is said to come from thirty-eight springs, all issuing from the same rock, some hot and some cold. The waters so mingling are pure, limpid and delicious, and are possest of remarkable medicinal properties, being efficacious for the cure of various diseases. Darius was so much pleased with this river that his army halted on its march to refresh itself with its waters. And a monument was erected at the spot as a memorial of the march, and also as a tribute to the salubrity of the waters of this magical stream. (Text.)
(1361)
HEALTH AND SCIENCE
If duties are to be measured by what things cost and the havoc they work, then diseases like consumption and typhoid fever should certainly find more people who would be willing to devote more of their time, energy and means to eradicate at least some of the conditions presented in the following statement:
Every day in the year there are two million people seriously sick in the United States. Some of this can never be prevented, but it is conservatively estimated that our annual loss from preventable diseases alone is $2,000,000,000 per year. Consumption alone formerly cost the United States over $1,000,000,000 a year. Since the discovery of the germ by Dr. Koch and of the improved methods of prevention and cure it has been shown that where this knowledge is applied seventy-five per cent of the loss from consumption can be prevented. Typhoid fever costs the country $350,000,000 a year. The city of Pittsburg alone has, by careful investigation, been shown to have lost $3,142,000 from typhoid fever in one year. The discovery that typhoid is produced by a special germ, which is usually gotten from the water or milk supply or from flies, has made it possible to control this expensive disease. As soon as all our citizens have good sanitary training, this $350,000,000 expense for typhoid can be completely eliminated. It has been shown that in the numerous cities in which the water supply alone has been made sanitary, typhoid has been reduced on the average seventy-one per cent.—New York,Evening Post.
Every day in the year there are two million people seriously sick in the United States. Some of this can never be prevented, but it is conservatively estimated that our annual loss from preventable diseases alone is $2,000,000,000 per year. Consumption alone formerly cost the United States over $1,000,000,000 a year. Since the discovery of the germ by Dr. Koch and of the improved methods of prevention and cure it has been shown that where this knowledge is applied seventy-five per cent of the loss from consumption can be prevented. Typhoid fever costs the country $350,000,000 a year. The city of Pittsburg alone has, by careful investigation, been shown to have lost $3,142,000 from typhoid fever in one year. The discovery that typhoid is produced by a special germ, which is usually gotten from the water or milk supply or from flies, has made it possible to control this expensive disease. As soon as all our citizens have good sanitary training, this $350,000,000 expense for typhoid can be completely eliminated. It has been shown that in the numerous cities in which the water supply alone has been made sanitary, typhoid has been reduced on the average seventy-one per cent.—New York,Evening Post.
(1362)
Health by Singing—SeeSinging Conducive to Health.
HEALTH, CARE OF
Spare diet and constant exercise in the keen morning air helped to endow Wesley with that amazing physical toughness which enabled him, when eighty-five years old, to walk six miles to a preaching appointment, and declare that the only sign of old age he felt was that “he could not walk nor run quite so fast as he once did.”—W. H. Fitchett, “Wesley and His Century.”
Spare diet and constant exercise in the keen morning air helped to endow Wesley with that amazing physical toughness which enabled him, when eighty-five years old, to walk six miles to a preaching appointment, and declare that the only sign of old age he felt was that “he could not walk nor run quite so fast as he once did.”—W. H. Fitchett, “Wesley and His Century.”
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HEALTH, ECONOMICS OF
Samuel Hopkins Adams writes of the economic value of pure food as follows:
Sterilization was tried in Rochester. It did not work well. The milk was not nutritious. Then Dr. Goler hit upon what seems to me the centrally important truth in the milk problem; that not the milk itself, but everything with which it comes in contact, should be made germ-proof. And as the basis upon which it all rests, stands the vital lesson of hygienic economics which this country is learning with appreciably growing enlightenment; that bad air, bad water, bad housing, bad sewering, dirty streets, and poor or impure food of whatever sort, cheaper tho they may be in the immediate expense, come back upon a community or a nation, in the long run, with a bill of arrears upon which the not-to-be-avoided percentage is appallingly exorbitant. (Text.)—McClure’s Magazine.
Sterilization was tried in Rochester. It did not work well. The milk was not nutritious. Then Dr. Goler hit upon what seems to me the centrally important truth in the milk problem; that not the milk itself, but everything with which it comes in contact, should be made germ-proof. And as the basis upon which it all rests, stands the vital lesson of hygienic economics which this country is learning with appreciably growing enlightenment; that bad air, bad water, bad housing, bad sewering, dirty streets, and poor or impure food of whatever sort, cheaper tho they may be in the immediate expense, come back upon a community or a nation, in the long run, with a bill of arrears upon which the not-to-be-avoided percentage is appallingly exorbitant. (Text.)—McClure’s Magazine.
(1364)
Health in Large Cities—SeeImproved Conditions.
HEALTH, REGAINING AND MAINTAINING
That is a remarkable record Colonel Roosevelt made in going through equatorial Africa for so many months in the jungle and in the swamp and yet never suffering any kind of ill-health for an hour of the whole time.It would be a remarkable record for any white man, and is particularly so in the case of Mr. Roosevelt. As a youngster it was a question in his own family whether he would ever arrive at maturity. He was a sickly child.The family, instead of coddling the youth, sent him out to the plains in the great Northwest to rough it on a cattle ranch. There he lived on plain fare, in poorly constructed houses, and rode a bronco from sunrise until dark, often before the sun rose and often after darkness set in. He returned to the house tired and slept soundly until the morning call came again. This was just what made the robust man of Mr. Roosevelt that he is.Plain fare, plenty of outdoor life, with exercise, is the natural condition for man to pass his life in. Civilization, unless guarded against, levies a terrible tax upon human life. Fine houses, too comfortable clothing, a table too liberally supplied, make direct attacks upon man’s physical health. Late hours, irregular hours, overpacked rooms, with their fetid atmosphere, levy a still heavier tax.
That is a remarkable record Colonel Roosevelt made in going through equatorial Africa for so many months in the jungle and in the swamp and yet never suffering any kind of ill-health for an hour of the whole time.
It would be a remarkable record for any white man, and is particularly so in the case of Mr. Roosevelt. As a youngster it was a question in his own family whether he would ever arrive at maturity. He was a sickly child.
The family, instead of coddling the youth, sent him out to the plains in the great Northwest to rough it on a cattle ranch. There he lived on plain fare, in poorly constructed houses, and rode a bronco from sunrise until dark, often before the sun rose and often after darkness set in. He returned to the house tired and slept soundly until the morning call came again. This was just what made the robust man of Mr. Roosevelt that he is.
Plain fare, plenty of outdoor life, with exercise, is the natural condition for man to pass his life in. Civilization, unless guarded against, levies a terrible tax upon human life. Fine houses, too comfortable clothing, a table too liberally supplied, make direct attacks upon man’s physical health. Late hours, irregular hours, overpacked rooms, with their fetid atmosphere, levy a still heavier tax.
(1365)
Hearers—SeeSympathy, Lack of.
HEART-HUNGER, SATISFYING
The successful treatment of tuberculosis is psychic, as well as physiologic. So, too, must the treatment of juvenile delinquency be considered. The physician impresses the patient with faith in his recovery. So, too, must the teacher impress the child. She must have faith in him, a faith so wholesome that he will learn to have faith in himself. She must encourage so that her encouragement will spur the weakest to effort. Oh, the effect of a tender word on a parched and starving little heart! Cases of individual rescues effected by a kind word crowd upon me.Dominick, the little Italian, the terror of three successive schools, who to-day is not only a fine lad, but who has reformed several other boys, changed from a lawless, defiant misdemeanant to the pride of the class—how? By a teacher who said to him, “I think you are trying to-day, dear.” Poor little chap! He told his teacher frankly that it was her calling him “dear” which developed in him a determination to please her.The insolent, defiant Irish boy, driven from room to room, who to-day is working steadily—respectful, law-abiding, ambitious—what worked his reform? A teacher, who in reply to the principal’s question, “Well, how is Tom doing in here?” looked at the class in line and noticing that Tom was standing up straight, said: “Oh, he’s going to be all right. He’s the best stander in the class.” And Tom, poor Tom, the first time he had ever been the best anything, took heart, and worked for further commendation.Ikey, the little Russian boy, in rags which almost fell from his poor, thin, little legs, what changed him from an ugly little outcastto a boy who tried, really tried, to do what was right? A clean suit of clothes, a warm bath, and a daily glass of milk, given by a teacher who sensed the boy’s needs.Have you read Owen Kildare’s account of the effect upon him of the first gentle touch he had ever felt?Seldom in his life as a child had any one said a kind word to him. One day when a strange woman patted him on the cheek he almost cried with the joy of it.“With a light pat on my cheek and one of the sunniest smiles ever shed on me.” he says of the incident, “she put a penny in my hand. She was gone before I realized what had happened. Somehow, I felt that were she to come back I could have said to her, ‘Say, lady, I haven’t got much to give, but I’ll give you all me poipers, me pennies, and me knife if you’ll do that agen.’”Go back to your schools. Pick out the so-called worst boys. Find out whether heart-hunger as well as stomach-hunger may not be one of the symptoms of the disease. There is not a teacher in all our broad land who would knowingly let a child’s body starve to death for want of physical food. Why should any child’s heart or soul be allowed to starve to death for want of a little sympathy and affection? Bodily starvation, at its worst, can only end in death; soul starvation, at its worst, ends in a hateful, ugly, defiant, lawless attitude toward authority, which not only ruins the starved one but brings disaster to the social order. Does not some blame belong to the school if its teachers fail to feed these starving souls?—Julia Richman, “Proceedings of the National Education Association,” 1909.
The successful treatment of tuberculosis is psychic, as well as physiologic. So, too, must the treatment of juvenile delinquency be considered. The physician impresses the patient with faith in his recovery. So, too, must the teacher impress the child. She must have faith in him, a faith so wholesome that he will learn to have faith in himself. She must encourage so that her encouragement will spur the weakest to effort. Oh, the effect of a tender word on a parched and starving little heart! Cases of individual rescues effected by a kind word crowd upon me.
Dominick, the little Italian, the terror of three successive schools, who to-day is not only a fine lad, but who has reformed several other boys, changed from a lawless, defiant misdemeanant to the pride of the class—how? By a teacher who said to him, “I think you are trying to-day, dear.” Poor little chap! He told his teacher frankly that it was her calling him “dear” which developed in him a determination to please her.
The insolent, defiant Irish boy, driven from room to room, who to-day is working steadily—respectful, law-abiding, ambitious—what worked his reform? A teacher, who in reply to the principal’s question, “Well, how is Tom doing in here?” looked at the class in line and noticing that Tom was standing up straight, said: “Oh, he’s going to be all right. He’s the best stander in the class.” And Tom, poor Tom, the first time he had ever been the best anything, took heart, and worked for further commendation.
Ikey, the little Russian boy, in rags which almost fell from his poor, thin, little legs, what changed him from an ugly little outcastto a boy who tried, really tried, to do what was right? A clean suit of clothes, a warm bath, and a daily glass of milk, given by a teacher who sensed the boy’s needs.
Have you read Owen Kildare’s account of the effect upon him of the first gentle touch he had ever felt?
Seldom in his life as a child had any one said a kind word to him. One day when a strange woman patted him on the cheek he almost cried with the joy of it.
“With a light pat on my cheek and one of the sunniest smiles ever shed on me.” he says of the incident, “she put a penny in my hand. She was gone before I realized what had happened. Somehow, I felt that were she to come back I could have said to her, ‘Say, lady, I haven’t got much to give, but I’ll give you all me poipers, me pennies, and me knife if you’ll do that agen.’”
Go back to your schools. Pick out the so-called worst boys. Find out whether heart-hunger as well as stomach-hunger may not be one of the symptoms of the disease. There is not a teacher in all our broad land who would knowingly let a child’s body starve to death for want of physical food. Why should any child’s heart or soul be allowed to starve to death for want of a little sympathy and affection? Bodily starvation, at its worst, can only end in death; soul starvation, at its worst, ends in a hateful, ugly, defiant, lawless attitude toward authority, which not only ruins the starved one but brings disaster to the social order. Does not some blame belong to the school if its teachers fail to feed these starving souls?—Julia Richman, “Proceedings of the National Education Association,” 1909.
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HEART-INTEREST
When the old lady was training her son for the trapeze, the boy made three or four rather ineffectual efforts to get over the bar. Then she was heard to suggest: “John Henry Hobbs, if you will just throw your heart over the bars, your body will follow.” (Text.)—James G. Blaine.
When the old lady was training her son for the trapeze, the boy made three or four rather ineffectual efforts to get over the bar. Then she was heard to suggest: “John Henry Hobbs, if you will just throw your heart over the bars, your body will follow.” (Text.)—James G. Blaine.
(1367)
HEART, REGENERATION OF
A fable among the Turks says that Mohammed, when a child, had his heart laid open, and a black grain, called the devil’s portion, taken out of its center; and in this heroic way the prophet’s preeminent virtue and sanctity are accounted for.
A fable among the Turks says that Mohammed, when a child, had his heart laid open, and a black grain, called the devil’s portion, taken out of its center; and in this heroic way the prophet’s preeminent virtue and sanctity are accounted for.
A new heart entire, through the regeneration of the Holy Ghost, far surpasses the Moslem’s fabled operation.
(1368)
Heart, Summer in the—SeeSummer in the Heart.
HEART, THE
The word “heart” is used figuratively and metaphysically, but with vivid impressiveness in Scripture, to indicate the capacity of feeling after God without which faith is impossible. Men of mathematical and philosophic training have in many cases lamentably exemplified the atrophy of the finer feelings. Here is the great fault in the glittering and brilliant writings of John Stuart Mill. From early infancy he, a most precocious boy, was taught to crush the heart, to repress all sentiments of affection. The moral nature of the lad was shockingly distorted, and as he grew up he judged of everything by the cold light of intellect only. He wrote his autobiography, and in that book is not a word about his mother. So the book absolutely lacks heart, and it is devoid of all fascination. (Text.)
The word “heart” is used figuratively and metaphysically, but with vivid impressiveness in Scripture, to indicate the capacity of feeling after God without which faith is impossible. Men of mathematical and philosophic training have in many cases lamentably exemplified the atrophy of the finer feelings. Here is the great fault in the glittering and brilliant writings of John Stuart Mill. From early infancy he, a most precocious boy, was taught to crush the heart, to repress all sentiments of affection. The moral nature of the lad was shockingly distorted, and as he grew up he judged of everything by the cold light of intellect only. He wrote his autobiography, and in that book is not a word about his mother. So the book absolutely lacks heart, and it is devoid of all fascination. (Text.)
(1369)
HEART, THE HUMAN
An American naturalist tells us that the human brain is full of birds. The song-birds might all have been hatched in the human heart, so well do they express the whole gamut of human passion and emotion in their varied songs. The plaintive singers, the soaring ecstatic singers, the gushing singers, the inarticulate singers—robin, dove, lark, mocking-bird, nightingale—all are expressive of human emotion, desire, love, sadness, aspiration, glee. Christ gives a sadder view of our heart, showing it to be “the hold of every foul spirit, and a cage of every unclean and hateful bird.” Fierce hawk, croaking raven, ravenous vulture, obscene birds, birds of discord, birds of darkness, birds of tempest, birds of blood and death—these are all typical of the heart’s base passions; these all brood and nestle within, and fly forth to darken, pollute, and destroy. And the Master is not here speaking of some hearts, but of the human heart generally. In the woods we find occasionally a bird with a false note, in the fields a misshapen flower, yet beauty and music are the prevailing characteristics of the landscape; but stepping into society, the universal discord and misery declare the common radical defect of our nature.—W. L. Watkinson, “The Transfigured Sackcloth.”
An American naturalist tells us that the human brain is full of birds. The song-birds might all have been hatched in the human heart, so well do they express the whole gamut of human passion and emotion in their varied songs. The plaintive singers, the soaring ecstatic singers, the gushing singers, the inarticulate singers—robin, dove, lark, mocking-bird, nightingale—all are expressive of human emotion, desire, love, sadness, aspiration, glee. Christ gives a sadder view of our heart, showing it to be “the hold of every foul spirit, and a cage of every unclean and hateful bird.” Fierce hawk, croaking raven, ravenous vulture, obscene birds, birds of discord, birds of darkness, birds of tempest, birds of blood and death—these are all typical of the heart’s base passions; these all brood and nestle within, and fly forth to darken, pollute, and destroy. And the Master is not here speaking of some hearts, but of the human heart generally. In the woods we find occasionally a bird with a false note, in the fields a misshapen flower, yet beauty and music are the prevailing characteristics of the landscape; but stepping into society, the universal discord and misery declare the common radical defect of our nature.—W. L. Watkinson, “The Transfigured Sackcloth.”
(1370)
HEART, THE SINGING
Frank L. Stanton writes of the man who has a song in the heart thus:
There is never a sky of winterTo the heart that sings alway;Never a night but hath stars to light,And dreams of a rosy day.The world is ever a gardenRed with the bloom of May;And never a stormy morningTo the heart that sings alway!
There is never a sky of winterTo the heart that sings alway;Never a night but hath stars to light,And dreams of a rosy day.The world is ever a gardenRed with the bloom of May;And never a stormy morningTo the heart that sings alway!
There is never a sky of winterTo the heart that sings alway;Never a night but hath stars to light,And dreams of a rosy day.
There is never a sky of winter
To the heart that sings alway;
Never a night but hath stars to light,
And dreams of a rosy day.
The world is ever a gardenRed with the bloom of May;And never a stormy morningTo the heart that sings alway!
The world is ever a garden
Red with the bloom of May;
And never a stormy morning
To the heart that sings alway!
(1371)
Heart versus Head—SeeDeath Compelling Sincerity;Experience the Best Argument.
Heartless Custom—SeeBarbarism.
HEARTLESS PAGANS
There is an essential difference between the attitude of heathenism and of Christianity toward human suffering. Sir Frederick Lely said:
The ordinary native of India who has been untouched by the Light is utterly devoid of pity. In West India a man will be taxed for killing a dog, but not for killing a man. During famine times it is an every-day sight to see men feeding monkeys with unleavened cakes and refusing to give a crust to their fellow men who are lying within a few yards of them dying with hunger. The great merchants and moneyed men of India spent thousands upon food for decrepid and worthless animals, but left it to the British Government to feed the men and women. In a famine hospital, Sir Frederick saw a little lad whose flesh was torn in many places. That morning an agent of one of the merchant gilds had visited his village with a supply of food for the village pariah dogs. The poor boy asked for some for himself but was refused, and in desperation he ran in among the dogs to try and get a piece, and they turned upon him and bit him. A Bunnia Hindu, in Ankleshwer, has recently given 15,000 rupees to found an animal hospital. The enclosure is to be in the midst of the town—a commodious structure, where worn-out cattle and worthless animals will be brought as a matter of religion. Around the outside of these same walls will walk crippled, diseased, poor and hungry men and women and children, but their pleading voices will fall on deaf ears.
The ordinary native of India who has been untouched by the Light is utterly devoid of pity. In West India a man will be taxed for killing a dog, but not for killing a man. During famine times it is an every-day sight to see men feeding monkeys with unleavened cakes and refusing to give a crust to their fellow men who are lying within a few yards of them dying with hunger. The great merchants and moneyed men of India spent thousands upon food for decrepid and worthless animals, but left it to the British Government to feed the men and women. In a famine hospital, Sir Frederick saw a little lad whose flesh was torn in many places. That morning an agent of one of the merchant gilds had visited his village with a supply of food for the village pariah dogs. The poor boy asked for some for himself but was refused, and in desperation he ran in among the dogs to try and get a piece, and they turned upon him and bit him. A Bunnia Hindu, in Ankleshwer, has recently given 15,000 rupees to found an animal hospital. The enclosure is to be in the midst of the town—a commodious structure, where worn-out cattle and worthless animals will be brought as a matter of religion. Around the outside of these same walls will walk crippled, diseased, poor and hungry men and women and children, but their pleading voices will fall on deaf ears.
(1372)
Heat—SeeEnthusiasm.
Heathen at Home and Abroad—SeeMissions Approved.
HEATHEN RECEPTIVENESS
The heathen seldom express a longing for the gospel as clearly as in the following petition to the missionaries of the Swedish Missionary Society in the Kongo State from a number of black heathen chiefs in 1887. They said:
We, Makayi, Nsinki, Kibundu, and Mukayi Makuta Ntoko, chiefs in Kibunzi, and our people, desire that the missionaries of the Swedish Missionary Society come and make their home with us, and teach us and our people. We gladly give them the right to erect their buildings upon the high hill southeast from the village of Kibunzi in any convenient spot. We transfer to them all our claims to that hill. Of course, they have the right to use the forests, the rivers, the roads, and the fields for plantations within our boundaries in the same manner as ourselves. We have invited them to come, and we are glad to see them with us, and our one desire is that they remain with us and erect buildings.
We, Makayi, Nsinki, Kibundu, and Mukayi Makuta Ntoko, chiefs in Kibunzi, and our people, desire that the missionaries of the Swedish Missionary Society come and make their home with us, and teach us and our people. We gladly give them the right to erect their buildings upon the high hill southeast from the village of Kibunzi in any convenient spot. We transfer to them all our claims to that hill. Of course, they have the right to use the forests, the rivers, the roads, and the fields for plantations within our boundaries in the same manner as ourselves. We have invited them to come, and we are glad to see them with us, and our one desire is that they remain with us and erect buildings.
(1373)
HEATHENDOM
An experience of my own in connection with the Kiang-peh famine in China illustrates the situation on most mission fields to-day. Tarrying in Chinkiang for a few days before proceeding up the canal, I saw considerable of the refugee camp outside the city wall. Altho one of the smaller camps, this one held perhaps forty thousand refugees from up country, all living on the bare and frozen ground, and the most comfortable of them having only an improvised hut of straw matting to shelter them. The tide of relief had not yet begun to flow from America and Europe. Moved by compassion for the suffering ones, Mrs. John W. Paxton made daily rounds to administer what medical relief was possible. One day I accompanied her, and she translated the words of the people. The commonest complaint we heard that morning from these starving Chinese was that they had lost their appetites! On their faces was the unmistakable famine pallor; hunger had driven them hither fromtheir homes—yet they had no taste for food! The tragedy of it was overwhelming. They had no appetite, because they had reached the last stages of starvation, and were dying. They did not want food, for the very reason that they needed it so badly. Heathendom does not want the gospel, because it needs it. Starving for the bread of life, it yet protests no desire for this supreme boon. Heathendom does not desire Christianity for the very reason that it is heathendom.—William T. Ellis, “Men and Missions.”
An experience of my own in connection with the Kiang-peh famine in China illustrates the situation on most mission fields to-day. Tarrying in Chinkiang for a few days before proceeding up the canal, I saw considerable of the refugee camp outside the city wall. Altho one of the smaller camps, this one held perhaps forty thousand refugees from up country, all living on the bare and frozen ground, and the most comfortable of them having only an improvised hut of straw matting to shelter them. The tide of relief had not yet begun to flow from America and Europe. Moved by compassion for the suffering ones, Mrs. John W. Paxton made daily rounds to administer what medical relief was possible. One day I accompanied her, and she translated the words of the people. The commonest complaint we heard that morning from these starving Chinese was that they had lost their appetites! On their faces was the unmistakable famine pallor; hunger had driven them hither fromtheir homes—yet they had no taste for food! The tragedy of it was overwhelming. They had no appetite, because they had reached the last stages of starvation, and were dying. They did not want food, for the very reason that they needed it so badly. Heathendom does not want the gospel, because it needs it. Starving for the bread of life, it yet protests no desire for this supreme boon. Heathendom does not desire Christianity for the very reason that it is heathendom.—William T. Ellis, “Men and Missions.”
(1374)
Heathenism Shattered—SeeMiracles, Evidential Value of.
HEAVEN