Korean homes are in a sense open to all the world. Any one who pleases may try the door, push it open, and come in. He needs no first acquaintance, and no introduction. An ordinary Korean guest-room is free to all the world. On the other hand, the inner quarters are separate, and for a male traveler to venture there would be a breach of the most sacred law of society. Into this outer room come gentlemen of leisure, tramps, fortune-tellers, Buddhist priests, all mankind, in fact. Here is located the high seat of the master. As you live in this guest-room, you feel the fearful lack of privacy. You are as tho encamped on the open highway, under the gaze of all men. If you write a letter, the question is, to whom are you writing it. “Why do you write thus and thus? What reference is here? Who? When?” These are the questions that are asked by those who look over your shoulder, without any breach of proper form or infraction of the eternal law that governs things.—James S. Gale, “Korea in Transition.”
Korean homes are in a sense open to all the world. Any one who pleases may try the door, push it open, and come in. He needs no first acquaintance, and no introduction. An ordinary Korean guest-room is free to all the world. On the other hand, the inner quarters are separate, and for a male traveler to venture there would be a breach of the most sacred law of society. Into this outer room come gentlemen of leisure, tramps, fortune-tellers, Buddhist priests, all mankind, in fact. Here is located the high seat of the master. As you live in this guest-room, you feel the fearful lack of privacy. You are as tho encamped on the open highway, under the gaze of all men. If you write a letter, the question is, to whom are you writing it. “Why do you write thus and thus? What reference is here? Who? When?” These are the questions that are asked by those who look over your shoulder, without any breach of proper form or infraction of the eternal law that governs things.—James S. Gale, “Korea in Transition.”
(2515)
PRIVATION, COMPARATIVE
While her husband was still lying in prison for debt, the Archbishop of York asked Susannah Wesley:“Tell me, Mrs. Wesley, whether you were ever really in want of bread?”“My lord,” she answered, “strictly speaking, I never did want bread. But then I had so much care to get it before it was eaten, and to pay for it after, as has often made it very unpleasant to me; and I think to have bread under such terms is the next degree of wretchedness to having none at all.”—W. H. Fitchett, “Wesley and His Century.”
While her husband was still lying in prison for debt, the Archbishop of York asked Susannah Wesley:
“Tell me, Mrs. Wesley, whether you were ever really in want of bread?”
“My lord,” she answered, “strictly speaking, I never did want bread. But then I had so much care to get it before it was eaten, and to pay for it after, as has often made it very unpleasant to me; and I think to have bread under such terms is the next degree of wretchedness to having none at all.”—W. H. Fitchett, “Wesley and His Century.”
(2516)
PRIVILEGE
In “The Gospel of Life,” Charles Wagner writes this sound wisdom:
Never is knowledge more touching or art more radiant than when they illumine the brow of the obscure. I am quite familiar with the fact that there are certain privileged ones of the earth who believe that this kind of good is reserved for them, that these are meats too delicate to be set before common folk. Scandalized at seeing the people walking about in the Louvre or in the halls of the Hotel de Ville, some one said to me one day, “Do you think that it was for these people that Puvis de Chavannes painted his ceilings?” “I don’t know as a matter of fact,” I said, “whether it was for them that he painted them. But I know another ceiling more beautiful than are these of earth;that which at night the myriads of stars cover with their constellations, that on which according to the magnificent image of the poet:
Never is knowledge more touching or art more radiant than when they illumine the brow of the obscure. I am quite familiar with the fact that there are certain privileged ones of the earth who believe that this kind of good is reserved for them, that these are meats too delicate to be set before common folk. Scandalized at seeing the people walking about in the Louvre or in the halls of the Hotel de Ville, some one said to me one day, “Do you think that it was for these people that Puvis de Chavannes painted his ceilings?” “I don’t know as a matter of fact,” I said, “whether it was for them that he painted them. But I know another ceiling more beautiful than are these of earth;that which at night the myriads of stars cover with their constellations, that on which according to the magnificent image of the poet:
“‘God paints the dawn, like a fresco, on the dark wall of night.’” (Text.)
“‘God paints the dawn, like a fresco, on the dark wall of night.’” (Text.)
“‘God paints the dawn, like a fresco, on the dark wall of night.’” (Text.)
“‘God paints the dawn, like a fresco, on the dark wall of night.’” (Text.)
(2517)
PRIVILEGE INVOLVES RESPONSIBILITY
When T. H. Benton was in the House he was of the opinion that the third day of March, and consequently the congressional term, ended at midnight of that day, instead of at noon on the fourth, as unbroken usage had fixt it. So on the last morning he sat with his hat on, talked loudly, loafed about the floor, and finally refused to vote or answer to his name when the roll was called. At last the speaker, the Hon. James L. Orr, of South Carolina, picked him up and put an end to these legislative larks.“No, sir; no, sir; NO, sir!” shouted the venerable Missourian; “I will not vote. I have no right to vote. This is no House, and I am not a member of it.”“Then, sir,” said Speaker Orr like a flash, with his sweetest manner, “if the gentleman is not a member of this House, the sergeant-at-arms will please put him out.”And so this vast constitutional question settled itself.
When T. H. Benton was in the House he was of the opinion that the third day of March, and consequently the congressional term, ended at midnight of that day, instead of at noon on the fourth, as unbroken usage had fixt it. So on the last morning he sat with his hat on, talked loudly, loafed about the floor, and finally refused to vote or answer to his name when the roll was called. At last the speaker, the Hon. James L. Orr, of South Carolina, picked him up and put an end to these legislative larks.
“No, sir; no, sir; NO, sir!” shouted the venerable Missourian; “I will not vote. I have no right to vote. This is no House, and I am not a member of it.”
“Then, sir,” said Speaker Orr like a flash, with his sweetest manner, “if the gentleman is not a member of this House, the sergeant-at-arms will please put him out.”
And so this vast constitutional question settled itself.
(2518)
PRIVILEGES SLIGHTED
Mrs. Mary A. Wright, a veteran Sunday-school teacher of New Jersey, relates an odd story of human interest taken from personal observation.
I went to see a beautiful new farmhouse near Fort Wayne, Iowa. A friend who accompanied me explained that the owner, a prosperous ranchman, had been forty years building it. He had started life in a small home of logs—but in his early days had dreamed of a larger and better home for himself and family. Every tree he saw that struck his fancy he cut down and hewed into lumber so that when he was finally ready to erect his mansion he had all the seasoned material at hand. The new home was at last completed and beautifully finished upon the interior in polished natural woods. There were soft carpets for the floors, and rich furnishings; a bath-room, steam heat, and other modern conveniences.That was several years before my visit, but I learned that, altho surrounded by all of this luxury, the farmer and his family lived in the basement. He had spent the best years of his life striving to build such a beautiful home, but, after getting it, he thought it too good to use and the family kept it to look at. The farmer and his family washed at the old pump in the yard while the costly tiled bath-room, with hot and cold water equipment, stood idle. They drank out of tin cups and ate off of cracked earthenware in their humble abode in the basement, while fine cut-glass and delicate china pieces reposed undisturbed in china-closets in the elegantly furnished dining-room up-stairs.All the members of the family entered into the spirit of “keeping the house looking nice,” and they kept it so nice that the wife and mother who had worn out her life in helping to secure the luxuries that she afterward thought too good to enjoy, begged to be allowed to die on a straw mattress in the cellar rather than muss the clean linen in the bed-chambers above.
I went to see a beautiful new farmhouse near Fort Wayne, Iowa. A friend who accompanied me explained that the owner, a prosperous ranchman, had been forty years building it. He had started life in a small home of logs—but in his early days had dreamed of a larger and better home for himself and family. Every tree he saw that struck his fancy he cut down and hewed into lumber so that when he was finally ready to erect his mansion he had all the seasoned material at hand. The new home was at last completed and beautifully finished upon the interior in polished natural woods. There were soft carpets for the floors, and rich furnishings; a bath-room, steam heat, and other modern conveniences.
That was several years before my visit, but I learned that, altho surrounded by all of this luxury, the farmer and his family lived in the basement. He had spent the best years of his life striving to build such a beautiful home, but, after getting it, he thought it too good to use and the family kept it to look at. The farmer and his family washed at the old pump in the yard while the costly tiled bath-room, with hot and cold water equipment, stood idle. They drank out of tin cups and ate off of cracked earthenware in their humble abode in the basement, while fine cut-glass and delicate china pieces reposed undisturbed in china-closets in the elegantly furnished dining-room up-stairs.
All the members of the family entered into the spirit of “keeping the house looking nice,” and they kept it so nice that the wife and mother who had worn out her life in helping to secure the luxuries that she afterward thought too good to enjoy, begged to be allowed to die on a straw mattress in the cellar rather than muss the clean linen in the bed-chambers above.
How much that is like some people. They are living in life’s basement, carefully cherishing the higher and nobler things to look at and show their friends, when they might experience life’s fullest joys and privileges for the choosing.
(2519)
Prize—SeeDiscovery, Fortunate.
PROBATION
Judge Mulqueen, of General Sessions, New York City, explained why he had sentenced two prisoners to “go home and serve time with their families.” This “punishment” was imposed when both men pleaded drunkenness as their excuse for trivial offenses.In the case of the first man, said the judge, the offense had been assault. The prisoner, an employee of the Street Cleaning Department, had a wife and five children to support, and had already spent more than a month in the Tombs, waiting for his trial.“Now, to send such a man to jail,” continued Judge Mulqueen, “would do decidedly more harm than good. He wasn’t a criminal. I think he was penitent, and he promised to do as I said, to cut out drink and attend to business.“Still, his offense was a misdemeanor in the eyes of the law, and I might have given him a year in the penitentiary and $500 fine, which usually means another year, since the men pay their fines by working for the State.Instead of that, I placed him on probation for a year.“He must report once a week to the probation officer. Also, he is watched, not suspiciously, but merely as a matter of precaution. If he is caught entering a saloon—I warned him of this—he will be punished. It’s simply giving him a chance to make good.”
Judge Mulqueen, of General Sessions, New York City, explained why he had sentenced two prisoners to “go home and serve time with their families.” This “punishment” was imposed when both men pleaded drunkenness as their excuse for trivial offenses.
In the case of the first man, said the judge, the offense had been assault. The prisoner, an employee of the Street Cleaning Department, had a wife and five children to support, and had already spent more than a month in the Tombs, waiting for his trial.
“Now, to send such a man to jail,” continued Judge Mulqueen, “would do decidedly more harm than good. He wasn’t a criminal. I think he was penitent, and he promised to do as I said, to cut out drink and attend to business.
“Still, his offense was a misdemeanor in the eyes of the law, and I might have given him a year in the penitentiary and $500 fine, which usually means another year, since the men pay their fines by working for the State.Instead of that, I placed him on probation for a year.
“He must report once a week to the probation officer. Also, he is watched, not suspiciously, but merely as a matter of precaution. If he is caught entering a saloon—I warned him of this—he will be punished. It’s simply giving him a chance to make good.”
(2520)
SeeExclusion from Heaven.
Problems, Gaging—SeeDistance.
PROCRASTINATION
He meant to insure his house, but it burned before he got around to it.He was just going to pay a note when it went to protest.He was just going to help his neighbor when he died.He was just going to send flowers to a sick friend when it proved too late.He was just going to reduce his debt when his creditors “shut down” on him.He was just going to stop drinking and dissipating when his health became wrecked.He was just going to provide his wife with more help when she took her bed and required a nurse, a doctor and a maid.—Success Magazine.
He meant to insure his house, but it burned before he got around to it.
He was just going to pay a note when it went to protest.
He was just going to help his neighbor when he died.
He was just going to send flowers to a sick friend when it proved too late.
He was just going to reduce his debt when his creditors “shut down” on him.
He was just going to stop drinking and dissipating when his health became wrecked.
He was just going to provide his wife with more help when she took her bed and required a nurse, a doctor and a maid.—Success Magazine.
(2521)
PRODIGAL, THE
Theodosia Garrison shows in these verses the melting power of love:
When I came to you banned, dishonored,Brother of yours no more,And raised my hands where your roof-tree stands,Why did you open the door?When I came to you starving—thirsting,Beggared of aught but sin,Why did you rise with welcoming eyesAnd lift me and bid me in?You have set me the first at the feastAnd robed me in tenderness,Yet, brothers of mine, these tears for signThat I would your grace were less.For I had not been crusht by your hateWho courted the pain thereof,But you stab me through when you give anew,O brothers, your love—your love! (Text.)
When I came to you banned, dishonored,Brother of yours no more,And raised my hands where your roof-tree stands,Why did you open the door?When I came to you starving—thirsting,Beggared of aught but sin,Why did you rise with welcoming eyesAnd lift me and bid me in?You have set me the first at the feastAnd robed me in tenderness,Yet, brothers of mine, these tears for signThat I would your grace were less.For I had not been crusht by your hateWho courted the pain thereof,But you stab me through when you give anew,O brothers, your love—your love! (Text.)
When I came to you banned, dishonored,Brother of yours no more,And raised my hands where your roof-tree stands,Why did you open the door?
When I came to you banned, dishonored,
Brother of yours no more,
And raised my hands where your roof-tree stands,
Why did you open the door?
When I came to you starving—thirsting,Beggared of aught but sin,Why did you rise with welcoming eyesAnd lift me and bid me in?
When I came to you starving—thirsting,
Beggared of aught but sin,
Why did you rise with welcoming eyes
And lift me and bid me in?
You have set me the first at the feastAnd robed me in tenderness,Yet, brothers of mine, these tears for signThat I would your grace were less.
You have set me the first at the feast
And robed me in tenderness,
Yet, brothers of mine, these tears for sign
That I would your grace were less.
For I had not been crusht by your hateWho courted the pain thereof,But you stab me through when you give anew,O brothers, your love—your love! (Text.)
For I had not been crusht by your hate
Who courted the pain thereof,
But you stab me through when you give anew,
O brothers, your love—your love! (Text.)
(2522)
This pathetic incident is told by Dr. J. Wilbur Chapman:
Mr. Moody told me that he was once invited to luncheon in one of the great homes in the city of New York. He noticed that his hostess was continually rising and leaving the room. He said to himself, “She must be in trouble. If she goes again I will follow her.” She did go out again and our great evangelist rose from the table and went out into the next room. When the mother saw him she was plunged into confusion. Her face flushed a fiery red. Seated upon the couch in the room was a boy with dishevelled hair, with bloodshot eyes, with clothing in rags. The mother recovered herself in a moment, walked across the room as if she had been a queen, threw her arms around her boy. Then, walking over to our great preacher, she said: “Mr. Moody, I do not think you have ever met my son. This is my boy, Mr. Moody; he is a prodigal, but I love him.” Mr. Moody said she put her lips up against the boy’s cheek and he suddenly burst into a flood of tears, dropt on his knees and, after Mr. Moody had spoken to him, he came to Christ. (Text.)
Mr. Moody told me that he was once invited to luncheon in one of the great homes in the city of New York. He noticed that his hostess was continually rising and leaving the room. He said to himself, “She must be in trouble. If she goes again I will follow her.” She did go out again and our great evangelist rose from the table and went out into the next room. When the mother saw him she was plunged into confusion. Her face flushed a fiery red. Seated upon the couch in the room was a boy with dishevelled hair, with bloodshot eyes, with clothing in rags. The mother recovered herself in a moment, walked across the room as if she had been a queen, threw her arms around her boy. Then, walking over to our great preacher, she said: “Mr. Moody, I do not think you have ever met my son. This is my boy, Mr. Moody; he is a prodigal, but I love him.” Mr. Moody said she put her lips up against the boy’s cheek and he suddenly burst into a flood of tears, dropt on his knees and, after Mr. Moody had spoken to him, he came to Christ. (Text.)
(2523)
PRODIGY, A
Professor Boris Sidis has given, in response to requests, an authentic account of the scope and aims of his son’s intellectual career. “I do not believe in the prevailing system of education for children,” writes Professor Sidis. “I have educated my son upon a system of my own, based to some extent upon principles laid down by Professor William James.” This system, Professor Sidis insists, has justified itself by its results in the case of the boy prodigy of Harvard. He knows as much at eleven, the father says, “as a gifted professor of mature years,” and when he grows up “he will amaze the world.” Nor is the result due to heredity or to abnormality of the child’s brain. The results achieved in the case of this eleven-year-old lad are due wholly to the methods of training pursued. To quote the father’s words as given the New YorkAmerican:“As the baby grows more rapidly after birth than at any other time, so his brain develops most rapidly then and becomes less sensitive to impressions as he grows older. The process of education can not begin too soon.“I began to train my boy in the use of his faculties immediately after his birth. He was bound to use them anyway, and therefore I took care that he used them properly. I taught the child to observe accurately, to analyze and synthesize and make sound deductions. Neither his mother nor myself confused him with baby talk, meaningless sounds or foolish gestures, and thus, altho he learned to reason so early, his mind was no more burdened than that of the ordinary child.“I knew that as soon as he began to speak his first interest would be in the sounds he was uttering, and so I trained him to identify the elements of sound. Taking a box of large alphabet blocks I named each to him day after day.“In this way he learned to read and spell correctly before he was two years old. What was still more important, he learned to reason correctly.”
Professor Boris Sidis has given, in response to requests, an authentic account of the scope and aims of his son’s intellectual career. “I do not believe in the prevailing system of education for children,” writes Professor Sidis. “I have educated my son upon a system of my own, based to some extent upon principles laid down by Professor William James.” This system, Professor Sidis insists, has justified itself by its results in the case of the boy prodigy of Harvard. He knows as much at eleven, the father says, “as a gifted professor of mature years,” and when he grows up “he will amaze the world.” Nor is the result due to heredity or to abnormality of the child’s brain. The results achieved in the case of this eleven-year-old lad are due wholly to the methods of training pursued. To quote the father’s words as given the New YorkAmerican:
“As the baby grows more rapidly after birth than at any other time, so his brain develops most rapidly then and becomes less sensitive to impressions as he grows older. The process of education can not begin too soon.
“I began to train my boy in the use of his faculties immediately after his birth. He was bound to use them anyway, and therefore I took care that he used them properly. I taught the child to observe accurately, to analyze and synthesize and make sound deductions. Neither his mother nor myself confused him with baby talk, meaningless sounds or foolish gestures, and thus, altho he learned to reason so early, his mind was no more burdened than that of the ordinary child.
“I knew that as soon as he began to speak his first interest would be in the sounds he was uttering, and so I trained him to identify the elements of sound. Taking a box of large alphabet blocks I named each to him day after day.
“In this way he learned to read and spell correctly before he was two years old. What was still more important, he learned to reason correctly.”
(2524)
Productions, Interchange of—SeeChristianity, Social.
Profanity—SeeAmbassador, The Minister as an;Swearing.
PROFANITY AND PRAYER
Is not much of our praying of as little significance as the profanity mentioned below:
Mr. Pierson was a man of no religious principles. Without exception he was the most profane man I ever knew. He would hardly utter a word without an oath. His habit of profanity had become so inveterate that it seemed almost as involuntary as his breathing. The wife of a clergyman, for whom he was working at one time, reproved him, when he pleasantly replied:“Why, madam, I don’t mean anything when I swear, any more than you do when you pray.”—Asa Bullard, “Incidents in a Busy Life.”
Mr. Pierson was a man of no religious principles. Without exception he was the most profane man I ever knew. He would hardly utter a word without an oath. His habit of profanity had become so inveterate that it seemed almost as involuntary as his breathing. The wife of a clergyman, for whom he was working at one time, reproved him, when he pleasantly replied:
“Why, madam, I don’t mean anything when I swear, any more than you do when you pray.”—Asa Bullard, “Incidents in a Busy Life.”
(2525)
PROFANITY IN FORMER TIMES
Swearing in the drawing-room and in the “best society” was no uncommon thing ninety years ago. Even the ladies themselves not rarely indulged in it. Dean Ramsey tells an anecdote that well illustrates how it was regarded. A sister was speaking of her brother as much addicted to the habit, and she said, “Our John swears awfu’, and we try to correct him for it; but,” she added, apologetically, “nae doubt it is a great set-off to conversation.”—Minot J. Savage,The Arena.
(2526)
PROFESSION
The lives of some who are estimated as men of holiness are like the bodies in certain ancient tombs, that retain the form and features they had when living, but which crumble at a touch. They are surrounded with all the ornaments of the living, and have the shape of men, but they are only dust. So a touch of temptation or any test of life applied to some men causes their apparent saintliness to crumble.
The lives of some who are estimated as men of holiness are like the bodies in certain ancient tombs, that retain the form and features they had when living, but which crumble at a touch. They are surrounded with all the ornaments of the living, and have the shape of men, but they are only dust. So a touch of temptation or any test of life applied to some men causes their apparent saintliness to crumble.
(2627)
Profession, Empty—SeeChurch, Deadness of the.
PROFESSION VERSUS CHARACTER
In a former pastorate there was a man in my congregation who could talk like Demosthenes or Cicero. He used excellent grammar, and seemed to know the Bible pretty well from Genesis to Revelation. He could quote Longfellow, and Tennyson, and Whittier, and a stranger would be charmed by his eloquent utterances. And yet when he rose to talk in a prayer-meeting, the crowd began to wither, and when his talk was over the prayer-meeting was like a sweet-potato patch on a frosty morning, flat and blue. The people knew that in his life there was something unsavory, that he would drink before the bar with worldly friends, and that he was not as honest as he might be. His good grammar and fluent utterances did not make amends for the unsavoriness of his character. There was another man in that congregation who would sometimes come to prayer-meeting with a circle of coal-dust around his hair. He was a coal-cart driver, and he was now and then so hurried to get to the prayer-meeting that he did not make his toilet with as much care as he ought. But the people leaned over to listen when he talked. And why? Because they knew that he lived every day for God. He would pick up a tramp on the road, and give him a mile ride on his cart, that he might talk with him about Jesus. His religion tasted good. Bad religion in good grammar does not taste good. I would rather have good religion in bad grammar, than good grammar in bad religion. (Text.)—C. A. Dixon.
In a former pastorate there was a man in my congregation who could talk like Demosthenes or Cicero. He used excellent grammar, and seemed to know the Bible pretty well from Genesis to Revelation. He could quote Longfellow, and Tennyson, and Whittier, and a stranger would be charmed by his eloquent utterances. And yet when he rose to talk in a prayer-meeting, the crowd began to wither, and when his talk was over the prayer-meeting was like a sweet-potato patch on a frosty morning, flat and blue. The people knew that in his life there was something unsavory, that he would drink before the bar with worldly friends, and that he was not as honest as he might be. His good grammar and fluent utterances did not make amends for the unsavoriness of his character. There was another man in that congregation who would sometimes come to prayer-meeting with a circle of coal-dust around his hair. He was a coal-cart driver, and he was now and then so hurried to get to the prayer-meeting that he did not make his toilet with as much care as he ought. But the people leaned over to listen when he talked. And why? Because they knew that he lived every day for God. He would pick up a tramp on the road, and give him a mile ride on his cart, that he might talk with him about Jesus. His religion tasted good. Bad religion in good grammar does not taste good. I would rather have good religion in bad grammar, than good grammar in bad religion. (Text.)—C. A. Dixon.
(2528)
PROFESSIONALISM
The subtle casuistry of Johnson’s reply in this dialog from Boswell’s “Life of Johnson” would excuse any amount of lying, if it were only in the interest of one’s profession.
Boswell—“But, sir, does not affecting a warmth when you have no warmth, and appearing to be clearly of one opinion, when you are, in reality, of another opinion—does not such dissimulation impair one’s honesty? Is there not some danger that a lawyer may put on the same mask in common life, in the intercourse with his friends?” Johnson—“Why, no, sir. Everybody knows you are paid for affecting warmth for your client; and it is, therefore, properly no dissimulation; the moment you come from the bar you resume your usual behavior. Sir, a man will no more carry the artifice of the bar into the common intercourse of society than a man who is paid for tumbling upon his hands will continue to tumble upon his hands when he should walk upon his feet.” (Text.)—Croake James, “Curiosities of Law and Lawyers.”
Boswell—“But, sir, does not affecting a warmth when you have no warmth, and appearing to be clearly of one opinion, when you are, in reality, of another opinion—does not such dissimulation impair one’s honesty? Is there not some danger that a lawyer may put on the same mask in common life, in the intercourse with his friends?” Johnson—“Why, no, sir. Everybody knows you are paid for affecting warmth for your client; and it is, therefore, properly no dissimulation; the moment you come from the bar you resume your usual behavior. Sir, a man will no more carry the artifice of the bar into the common intercourse of society than a man who is paid for tumbling upon his hands will continue to tumble upon his hands when he should walk upon his feet.” (Text.)—Croake James, “Curiosities of Law and Lawyers.”
(2529)
PROFIT
S. E. Kiser expresses in the verse below the thought that our kind words and deeds are helpful to ourselves, no matter how small their objective effect:
You may not profit by my word of cheer,The cares you have may weigh upon you still;My word of kindness may not dry your tear,Nor smooth your path upon the storm-swept hill.The word of hope I speak may not impartTo you the courage that I wish it might;But, speaking it, I win new strength of heartAnd make the burden I am bearing light.
You may not profit by my word of cheer,The cares you have may weigh upon you still;My word of kindness may not dry your tear,Nor smooth your path upon the storm-swept hill.The word of hope I speak may not impartTo you the courage that I wish it might;But, speaking it, I win new strength of heartAnd make the burden I am bearing light.
You may not profit by my word of cheer,The cares you have may weigh upon you still;My word of kindness may not dry your tear,Nor smooth your path upon the storm-swept hill.
You may not profit by my word of cheer,
The cares you have may weigh upon you still;
My word of kindness may not dry your tear,
Nor smooth your path upon the storm-swept hill.
The word of hope I speak may not impartTo you the courage that I wish it might;But, speaking it, I win new strength of heartAnd make the burden I am bearing light.
The word of hope I speak may not impart
To you the courage that I wish it might;
But, speaking it, I win new strength of heart
And make the burden I am bearing light.
(2530)
PROFIT FROM PESTS
Some points in muskrat-farming are related by a Vermont man in theNew England Homesteadas his own experience. Some years ago he dammed a small brook on his farm for the purpose of making a trout-pond. The muskrats, however, speedily took possession of it and made it their home, from which they organized forays into the farmer’s corn-field. This suggested a way of getting even. The next year he enlarged his dam, making a shallow pond covering four acres of marsh-land of no use for crops. The rats appreciated the enlarged accommodations and also the marginal corn crop which he planted for their sustenance, and did not suspect the wire traps set for them when the water should be drawn off.After a couple of seasons he considered the quarry sufficiently mature to test results. The water was drawn off and the game was caught in the netting. A hundred of the largest and darkest of the captives were returned to the pond for breeding purposes, while more than four hundred were put under tribute of their pelts. The result was more than enough to pay for the construction and labor, and he expects a much larger return of better fur next year. Hundreds of New England farms have brook-fed marshes that could be utilized to equal advantage.The fur market is a rising one; more in proportion, perhaps, for cheap furs than for the more expensive. The trolley and automobile have increased the demand enormously. The people who buy rich furs are constantly becoming more numerous, and they have their imitators among the many who can afford only the lower grades.—BostonTranscript.
Some points in muskrat-farming are related by a Vermont man in theNew England Homesteadas his own experience. Some years ago he dammed a small brook on his farm for the purpose of making a trout-pond. The muskrats, however, speedily took possession of it and made it their home, from which they organized forays into the farmer’s corn-field. This suggested a way of getting even. The next year he enlarged his dam, making a shallow pond covering four acres of marsh-land of no use for crops. The rats appreciated the enlarged accommodations and also the marginal corn crop which he planted for their sustenance, and did not suspect the wire traps set for them when the water should be drawn off.
After a couple of seasons he considered the quarry sufficiently mature to test results. The water was drawn off and the game was caught in the netting. A hundred of the largest and darkest of the captives were returned to the pond for breeding purposes, while more than four hundred were put under tribute of their pelts. The result was more than enough to pay for the construction and labor, and he expects a much larger return of better fur next year. Hundreds of New England farms have brook-fed marshes that could be utilized to equal advantage.
The fur market is a rising one; more in proportion, perhaps, for cheap furs than for the more expensive. The trolley and automobile have increased the demand enormously. The people who buy rich furs are constantly becoming more numerous, and they have their imitators among the many who can afford only the lower grades.—BostonTranscript.
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Prognosis, Cure in—SeeWounds, Curious.
PROGNOSTICATION OF WEATHER
Character has its signs, often accurately read by the simple-hearted man, as easily as farmers foretell the weather.
“I reckon we’ll have to stop hay-carting to-morrow,” said a laborer to me one splendid cloudless July day.“Why?”“’Cause I heerd one o’ them old woodpeckers hallerin’ fit to bust hisself while I was a-gettin’ my dinner.”Next morning the daily paper spoke of settled fine weather, but the rustic was right—it rained heavily. He was a man utterly uneducated, who, without reference to any scientific instrument, could forecast the morrow’s weather with accuracy, when the meteorological office, with all its appliances, was at fault. “Hinery” was only a specimen of hundreds of his fellows who can predict to-morrow’s (and often longer) weather with unerring accuracy, merely from noticing common details of natural phenomena open to every one.—Cassell’s Magazine.
“I reckon we’ll have to stop hay-carting to-morrow,” said a laborer to me one splendid cloudless July day.
“Why?”
“’Cause I heerd one o’ them old woodpeckers hallerin’ fit to bust hisself while I was a-gettin’ my dinner.”
Next morning the daily paper spoke of settled fine weather, but the rustic was right—it rained heavily. He was a man utterly uneducated, who, without reference to any scientific instrument, could forecast the morrow’s weather with accuracy, when the meteorological office, with all its appliances, was at fault. “Hinery” was only a specimen of hundreds of his fellows who can predict to-morrow’s (and often longer) weather with unerring accuracy, merely from noticing common details of natural phenomena open to every one.—Cassell’s Magazine.
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PROGRESS
Faith in divine progress is exprest in these verses by John Philo Trowbridge:
The eternal truth of God moves onIn undisputed sway,While all the narrow creeds of menDecline and pass away.The eternal light of God shines onBeneath an eternal sky,Tho human luminations cease,And human watch-fires die.But faith still mounts the endless years,And truth grows lovelier still,And light shines in upon the soulFrom some immortal hill.
The eternal truth of God moves onIn undisputed sway,While all the narrow creeds of menDecline and pass away.The eternal light of God shines onBeneath an eternal sky,Tho human luminations cease,And human watch-fires die.But faith still mounts the endless years,And truth grows lovelier still,And light shines in upon the soulFrom some immortal hill.
The eternal truth of God moves onIn undisputed sway,While all the narrow creeds of menDecline and pass away.
The eternal truth of God moves on
In undisputed sway,
While all the narrow creeds of men
Decline and pass away.
The eternal light of God shines onBeneath an eternal sky,Tho human luminations cease,And human watch-fires die.
The eternal light of God shines on
Beneath an eternal sky,
Tho human luminations cease,
And human watch-fires die.
But faith still mounts the endless years,And truth grows lovelier still,And light shines in upon the soulFrom some immortal hill.
But faith still mounts the endless years,
And truth grows lovelier still,
And light shines in upon the soul
From some immortal hill.
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Professor Guyot, of Princeton, says that progress in the world is like the development of plant life. It has three periods of growth. The first is that in the soil—growth by the root. The second is more accelerated—growth by the stem. The third is the most rapid of all—growth by the blossom and fruit. The world has been growing by the root, obscurely, lingeringly, slowly. It is growing by the stem now, very much faster. It is beginning to break into the blossom and fruit, when progress will be wonderful compared with our past experience in all other periods.—Henry Ward Beecher.
Professor Guyot, of Princeton, says that progress in the world is like the development of plant life. It has three periods of growth. The first is that in the soil—growth by the root. The second is more accelerated—growth by the stem. The third is the most rapid of all—growth by the blossom and fruit. The world has been growing by the root, obscurely, lingeringly, slowly. It is growing by the stem now, very much faster. It is beginning to break into the blossom and fruit, when progress will be wonderful compared with our past experience in all other periods.—Henry Ward Beecher.
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Modern ministers, while they should not be stagnantly conservative, are sometimes apt to make too little allowance for the inveterate habits in old saints of clinging to the past. These old saints in many cases can not easily get into line with the word “go.” They are not prepared for new eras of thought or the inauguration of new epochs. Hume destroyed the faith of his mother and made it a wreck. Arterial sclerosis is a hardening of the walls of the arteries, so that they become unable to bear the pressure of the blood when impelled by the heart under excitement. A similar process of hardening of the avenues of mental operations characterizes many excellent folk in old age.
Modern ministers, while they should not be stagnantly conservative, are sometimes apt to make too little allowance for the inveterate habits in old saints of clinging to the past. These old saints in many cases can not easily get into line with the word “go.” They are not prepared for new eras of thought or the inauguration of new epochs. Hume destroyed the faith of his mother and made it a wreck. Arterial sclerosis is a hardening of the walls of the arteries, so that they become unable to bear the pressure of the blood when impelled by the heart under excitement. A similar process of hardening of the avenues of mental operations characterizes many excellent folk in old age.
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SeeImprovement.
Progress, a Sign of—SeeSurgery, Improvement in.
PROGRESS BY DISPLACEMENT
It is estimated that more than 20,000 families, aggregating 100,000 persons, have been driven from their homes by the steady transformation of New York City which is now near completion. The destruction of homes has not been confined to one locality, nor has it come as the result of one event. Every large undertaking has contributed its quota of persons whose homes literally have been pulled down about their heads.This transformation is most conspicuous at the approaches to the new bridges across the East River, in the erection of new and stupendous railroad terminals, the encroachment of modern business buildings upon residence property, and the widening of streets.
It is estimated that more than 20,000 families, aggregating 100,000 persons, have been driven from their homes by the steady transformation of New York City which is now near completion. The destruction of homes has not been confined to one locality, nor has it come as the result of one event. Every large undertaking has contributed its quota of persons whose homes literally have been pulled down about their heads.
This transformation is most conspicuous at the approaches to the new bridges across the East River, in the erection of new and stupendous railroad terminals, the encroachment of modern business buildings upon residence property, and the widening of streets.
It is the law of progress that the old shall be displaced by the new and better.
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Progress by Ideals—SeeIdeals and Progress.
Progress by Necessity—SeeNecessity and Progress.
Progress by Struggle—SeeStruggle.
Progress, Keeping Pace with—SeeModernity.
Progress, Lack of—SeeMotion Without Progress.
PROGRESS, MODERN
The late Professor Dolbear, of Tuft’s College, summed up the progress of the nineteenth century as follows:
The nineteenth century received from its predecessor the horse; we bequeath the locomotive, the bicycle, and the automotor. We received the scythe; we bequeathed the mowing-machine. We received the painter’s brush; we bequeathed lithography, the camera, and color photography. We received twenty-three chemical elements; we bequeathed eighty. We received the sailing ship; we bequeathed the magnificent steamships which are the glory of Belfast and of Ireland. We received the beacon signal-fire; we bequeathed the telephone and wireless telegraphy. Best of all, we received unalleviable pain, and we bequeathed aseptics, chloroform, ether, and cocaine. We received an average duration of life for thirty years; we bequeathed forty years. (Text.)
The nineteenth century received from its predecessor the horse; we bequeath the locomotive, the bicycle, and the automotor. We received the scythe; we bequeathed the mowing-machine. We received the painter’s brush; we bequeathed lithography, the camera, and color photography. We received twenty-three chemical elements; we bequeathed eighty. We received the sailing ship; we bequeathed the magnificent steamships which are the glory of Belfast and of Ireland. We received the beacon signal-fire; we bequeathed the telephone and wireless telegraphy. Best of all, we received unalleviable pain, and we bequeathed aseptics, chloroform, ether, and cocaine. We received an average duration of life for thirty years; we bequeathed forty years. (Text.)
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Progress of Indians—SeeIndians, American.
Progress Resisted—SeeDrought, Responsibility for.
PROGRESS, TRUE
Surely we should judge of a man’s progress by inquiring what he has been rather than by his present stage alone:
Men march toward civilization in column formation, and by the time the van has learned to admire the masters the rear is drawing reluctantly away from the totem-pole. Anywhere in the middle you may find a veneration for china pugdogs or an enthusiasm for Marie Corelli—still an advance. Literary people seem to think that every time a volume of Hall Caine is sold, Shakespeare is to that extent neglected. It merely means that some semisavage has reached the Hall Caine stage, and we should wish him godspeed on his way to Shakespeare. It is only when a pretended Shakespeare man lapses into Hall Cainery that one need be excited.—Frank Moore Colby, “Imaginary Obligations.”
Men march toward civilization in column formation, and by the time the van has learned to admire the masters the rear is drawing reluctantly away from the totem-pole. Anywhere in the middle you may find a veneration for china pugdogs or an enthusiasm for Marie Corelli—still an advance. Literary people seem to think that every time a volume of Hall Caine is sold, Shakespeare is to that extent neglected. It merely means that some semisavage has reached the Hall Caine stage, and we should wish him godspeed on his way to Shakespeare. It is only when a pretended Shakespeare man lapses into Hall Cainery that one need be excited.—Frank Moore Colby, “Imaginary Obligations.”
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PROGRESS UNFINISHED
To the end of his life, the student whose frame remains unshaken, writes on morals and history, on science and on fine art, and his inquiries in all the departments of nature are marked by as keen and strenuous an enthusiasm as when in his youth he traversed the hills and the valleys on foot. Each process becomes but a basis for higher ones; and each successful and wide research but opens the path to new discoveries. As the skiff which the boy builds grows at last to the steamship, and the hut of the pioneer to the palace which the citizen rears and adorns—while yet neither of these is felt to be final with him, or adequate to the highest conception he can form—so the thought of the child expands and accumulates to the science of manhood, and still is admitted insufficient and transient.—Richard S. Storrs.
To the end of his life, the student whose frame remains unshaken, writes on morals and history, on science and on fine art, and his inquiries in all the departments of nature are marked by as keen and strenuous an enthusiasm as when in his youth he traversed the hills and the valleys on foot. Each process becomes but a basis for higher ones; and each successful and wide research but opens the path to new discoveries. As the skiff which the boy builds grows at last to the steamship, and the hut of the pioneer to the palace which the citizen rears and adorns—while yet neither of these is felt to be final with him, or adequate to the highest conception he can form—so the thought of the child expands and accumulates to the science of manhood, and still is admitted insufficient and transient.—Richard S. Storrs.
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PROHIBITION
Of course, the experienced drinker can buy liquor in a prohibition State like Maine. Let me say to any old toper present, going to Portland for his summer vacation, that he can find a drink by going into a side street, slipping down a dark alley, rapping three times at a door, wriggling up a back stairway, and by much twisting, convolution and squirming like a serpent, find what he desires. But boys and girls will grow up without the temptation of the open saloon. Of course, prohibition is not ideal. Making man temperate by law is a makeshift. There are men who have not been drunk for ten years—they are in Sing Sing.Perhaps, however, if you can not keep some men from committing crime in any other way, it is best to build a stone wall around them. The ideal thing is law enthroned in the heart, an automatic commandment in the brain and will. But the necessary thing for poorly born people may be legal restraints.—N. D. Hillis.
Of course, the experienced drinker can buy liquor in a prohibition State like Maine. Let me say to any old toper present, going to Portland for his summer vacation, that he can find a drink by going into a side street, slipping down a dark alley, rapping three times at a door, wriggling up a back stairway, and by much twisting, convolution and squirming like a serpent, find what he desires. But boys and girls will grow up without the temptation of the open saloon. Of course, prohibition is not ideal. Making man temperate by law is a makeshift. There are men who have not been drunk for ten years—they are in Sing Sing.
Perhaps, however, if you can not keep some men from committing crime in any other way, it is best to build a stone wall around them. The ideal thing is law enthroned in the heart, an automatic commandment in the brain and will. But the necessary thing for poorly born people may be legal restraints.—N. D. Hillis.
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An English writer refers thus to some impressions of a brother Englishman, traveling through the United States:
When traveling through the United States some years ago, he was much struck with the difference in appearance of the houses in districts where the Maine liquor law was in force, and soon learned to distinguish where it was adopted, by the clean, cheerful look of the workmen’s dwellings, the neatness of the gardens, and the presence of trees and flowers which, in other districts, were wanting. He was not a teetotaler himself, and was not advocating such restrictions; but he could not help noticing the contrast; and he felt sure that in all our large towns great progress in civilization and morals would be effected if such an attraction were offered to the working classes.
When traveling through the United States some years ago, he was much struck with the difference in appearance of the houses in districts where the Maine liquor law was in force, and soon learned to distinguish where it was adopted, by the clean, cheerful look of the workmen’s dwellings, the neatness of the gardens, and the presence of trees and flowers which, in other districts, were wanting. He was not a teetotaler himself, and was not advocating such restrictions; but he could not help noticing the contrast; and he felt sure that in all our large towns great progress in civilization and morals would be effected if such an attraction were offered to the working classes.
It is another of the long line of illustrations showing the intimate connection between moral and material weal.
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PROHIBITION ARGUED AGAINST
At the fiftieth annual convention of the United States Brewers’ Association, the following absurdity was submitted as part of a report:
The whole vegetable world is in a conspiracy against the prohibitionist. The bees become intoxicated with the distillation of the honeysuckle; the wasps grow dizzy inthe drowsy clover-patch, and even the ants wobble in their walk after they have feasted upon the overripe fruit fallen from the tree, which has started a natural fermentation.—New YorkEvening Post.
The whole vegetable world is in a conspiracy against the prohibitionist. The bees become intoxicated with the distillation of the honeysuckle; the wasps grow dizzy inthe drowsy clover-patch, and even the ants wobble in their walk after they have feasted upon the overripe fruit fallen from the tree, which has started a natural fermentation.—New YorkEvening Post.
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PROHIBITION AS A BENEFACTOR
“A Swedish teacher going abroad for study,” writes the KarlstadtTidning, “gave a patriotic lecture in the cabin of a North Sea steamer to Swedish emigrants. After it was over a nice-looking young fellow came up to him and said: ‘Greet the dear old land for me when you return. I should never leave it if the prohibition rescript continued in force. You see, I am a drinking man, tho I have a wife and children to care for. I have a good employment always open to me in Stockholm, but I don’t dare take it. For a whole month under prohibition I have been a free and happy man. If it had continued I should have stayed in Sweden, but now I am making for some American prohibition State where I can’t get drink.’ And he was not the only one. Other passengers said the same thing. The five weeks had brought hope into their life and they were going where the law helped them rather than crusht them.”—The Christian Statesman.
“A Swedish teacher going abroad for study,” writes the KarlstadtTidning, “gave a patriotic lecture in the cabin of a North Sea steamer to Swedish emigrants. After it was over a nice-looking young fellow came up to him and said: ‘Greet the dear old land for me when you return. I should never leave it if the prohibition rescript continued in force. You see, I am a drinking man, tho I have a wife and children to care for. I have a good employment always open to me in Stockholm, but I don’t dare take it. For a whole month under prohibition I have been a free and happy man. If it had continued I should have stayed in Sweden, but now I am making for some American prohibition State where I can’t get drink.’ And he was not the only one. Other passengers said the same thing. The five weeks had brought hope into their life and they were going where the law helped them rather than crusht them.”—The Christian Statesman.
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PROMISE, AN INDIAN’S
“Sonny” Smith, charged with the murder of Frank Miller, sat in the sheriff’s office at Tulsa, Okla. His two sons were fugitives from justice on the same charge.“Let me go,” pleaded the half-breed Creek Indian to the sheriff of the county, “and I will go and bring in the two boys you are looking for. If you do not let me go you will never catch those boys.”Sheriff Newblock smiled grimly.“What guarantee have I if I let you go after the boys that you will come back? You know you are charged with a capital offense.”“You have the word of an Indian that he will come back,” replied the half-breed. And the sheriff, with a knowledge of Indian character, let “Sonny” go as a special commissioner to hunt his own boys in the swamps and hills and bring them in.As time passed there was much grumbling in the community that the sheriff had let a cold-blooded murderer loose among the people. The victim was a young man, popular in the town and connected with the best families in the country. But on the fifth day “Sonny” appeared with his two sons and their wives and all the rest of the kin of the tribe of Smith.“Here I am,” he announced proudly, “and here are my two boys, whom I arrested in the swamps of the Arkansas, close to Muskogee. I would have written to let you know I was on the trail, but the most of the time I was away from the railroad lines and could not quit the trail long enough to mail you a postal. And if there is anything against me I am going to stay here and fight it out.”
“Sonny” Smith, charged with the murder of Frank Miller, sat in the sheriff’s office at Tulsa, Okla. His two sons were fugitives from justice on the same charge.
“Let me go,” pleaded the half-breed Creek Indian to the sheriff of the county, “and I will go and bring in the two boys you are looking for. If you do not let me go you will never catch those boys.”
Sheriff Newblock smiled grimly.
“What guarantee have I if I let you go after the boys that you will come back? You know you are charged with a capital offense.”
“You have the word of an Indian that he will come back,” replied the half-breed. And the sheriff, with a knowledge of Indian character, let “Sonny” go as a special commissioner to hunt his own boys in the swamps and hills and bring them in.
As time passed there was much grumbling in the community that the sheriff had let a cold-blooded murderer loose among the people. The victim was a young man, popular in the town and connected with the best families in the country. But on the fifth day “Sonny” appeared with his two sons and their wives and all the rest of the kin of the tribe of Smith.
“Here I am,” he announced proudly, “and here are my two boys, whom I arrested in the swamps of the Arkansas, close to Muskogee. I would have written to let you know I was on the trail, but the most of the time I was away from the railroad lines and could not quit the trail long enough to mail you a postal. And if there is anything against me I am going to stay here and fight it out.”
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Promise, Failing—SeeEarly Promise.
PROMISE, INVIOLABLE
The following is one of Dwight L. Moody’s illustrations, with the exhortation that followed it:
It is recorded in history that some years ago a man was condemned to be put to death. When he came to lay his head on the block, the prince who had charge of the execution asked him if there was any one petition that he could grant him. All that the condemned man asked for was a glass of water. They went and got him a tumbler of water, but his hand trembled so that he could not get it to his mouth. The prince said to him, “Your life is safe until you drink that water.” He took the prince at his word, and dashed the water to the ground. They could not gather it up, and so he saved his life. My friend, you can be saved now by taking God at His word. The water of life is offered to “whosoever will.” Take it now, and live. May God give you grace to do so this moment! Let feelings go! Say in your heart, “I do believe, I will believe, I now believe on the Lord Jesus Christ with all my heart,” and life everlasting is yours!
It is recorded in history that some years ago a man was condemned to be put to death. When he came to lay his head on the block, the prince who had charge of the execution asked him if there was any one petition that he could grant him. All that the condemned man asked for was a glass of water. They went and got him a tumbler of water, but his hand trembled so that he could not get it to his mouth. The prince said to him, “Your life is safe until you drink that water.” He took the prince at his word, and dashed the water to the ground. They could not gather it up, and so he saved his life. My friend, you can be saved now by taking God at His word. The water of life is offered to “whosoever will.” Take it now, and live. May God give you grace to do so this moment! Let feelings go! Say in your heart, “I do believe, I will believe, I now believe on the Lord Jesus Christ with all my heart,” and life everlasting is yours!
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PROMISED LAND, THE
These verses are part of a longer poem by Michael Lynch:
So we sailed and sailed over stormy seas, till we came to a pleasant land, Where forever were peace and happiness, and plenty was on each hand; And no man wronged his brother there, for no man counted it gain To live by the sweat of another’s brow, or to joy at another’s pain,
And the strong man there was a kindly man and aided the one who was weak,And for those who were simple and trusting men their wiser brothers would speak;And creed, or color, or land, or birth, caused no man to hate another,For the same red blood filled each man’s veins, and every man was a brother.*****And the old man there was a blessed man, for toilless he wanted nought,And vice and toil on the little ones no longer their ruin wrought;And the feeble in body and mind had there no longer a care for bread;For out of the plenty that was for all, ’twas theirs the first to be fed.*****And peace was forever in that fair land, for no man envied his mate,And no man’s treasures, where all were rich, woke his brother’s sleeping hate,And the kingdom that Christ had promised was now for all men to see,And the name of that happy kingdom was, “The land of the soon be be.” (Text.)
And the strong man there was a kindly man and aided the one who was weak,And for those who were simple and trusting men their wiser brothers would speak;And creed, or color, or land, or birth, caused no man to hate another,For the same red blood filled each man’s veins, and every man was a brother.*****And the old man there was a blessed man, for toilless he wanted nought,And vice and toil on the little ones no longer their ruin wrought;And the feeble in body and mind had there no longer a care for bread;For out of the plenty that was for all, ’twas theirs the first to be fed.*****And peace was forever in that fair land, for no man envied his mate,And no man’s treasures, where all were rich, woke his brother’s sleeping hate,And the kingdom that Christ had promised was now for all men to see,And the name of that happy kingdom was, “The land of the soon be be.” (Text.)
And the strong man there was a kindly man and aided the one who was weak,And for those who were simple and trusting men their wiser brothers would speak;And creed, or color, or land, or birth, caused no man to hate another,For the same red blood filled each man’s veins, and every man was a brother.
And the strong man there was a kindly man and aided the one who was weak,
And for those who were simple and trusting men their wiser brothers would speak;
And creed, or color, or land, or birth, caused no man to hate another,
For the same red blood filled each man’s veins, and every man was a brother.
*****
*****
And the old man there was a blessed man, for toilless he wanted nought,And vice and toil on the little ones no longer their ruin wrought;And the feeble in body and mind had there no longer a care for bread;For out of the plenty that was for all, ’twas theirs the first to be fed.
And the old man there was a blessed man, for toilless he wanted nought,
And vice and toil on the little ones no longer their ruin wrought;
And the feeble in body and mind had there no longer a care for bread;
For out of the plenty that was for all, ’twas theirs the first to be fed.
*****
*****
And peace was forever in that fair land, for no man envied his mate,And no man’s treasures, where all were rich, woke his brother’s sleeping hate,And the kingdom that Christ had promised was now for all men to see,And the name of that happy kingdom was, “The land of the soon be be.” (Text.)
And peace was forever in that fair land, for no man envied his mate,
And no man’s treasures, where all were rich, woke his brother’s sleeping hate,
And the kingdom that Christ had promised was now for all men to see,
And the name of that happy kingdom was, “The land of the soon be be.” (Text.)
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PROMISES
“Oh, grandpa,” said Charlie, “see how white the apple-trees are with blossoms.”“Yes,” replied grandpa; “if the tree keeps its promises, there will be plenty of apples; but if it is like some boys I know there may not be any.”“What do you mean by keeping its promises?” Charley inquired.“Why,” returned grandpa, “blossoms are only the tree’s promises, just as the promises little boys make sometimes are blossoms. Sometimes the frost nips these blossoms, both on the tree and in the boy.”“I see,” Charlie remarked; “then you think when I promise to be a better boy, I am only in blossom. But I’ll show you that the frost can’t nip my blossoms.”—The Young Evangelist.
“Oh, grandpa,” said Charlie, “see how white the apple-trees are with blossoms.”
“Yes,” replied grandpa; “if the tree keeps its promises, there will be plenty of apples; but if it is like some boys I know there may not be any.”
“What do you mean by keeping its promises?” Charley inquired.
“Why,” returned grandpa, “blossoms are only the tree’s promises, just as the promises little boys make sometimes are blossoms. Sometimes the frost nips these blossoms, both on the tree and in the boy.”
“I see,” Charlie remarked; “then you think when I promise to be a better boy, I am only in blossom. But I’ll show you that the frost can’t nip my blossoms.”—The Young Evangelist.
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Dr. Alexander MacLaren writes as follows about following the promises:
In the crooked alleys of Venice there is a thin thread of red stone inlaid in the pavement or wall which guides through all the devious turnings to the plaza, in the center where the great church stands. As long as we have the red line of promise on the path faith may follow it, and it will lead to God. (Text.)
In the crooked alleys of Venice there is a thin thread of red stone inlaid in the pavement or wall which guides through all the devious turnings to the plaza, in the center where the great church stands. As long as we have the red line of promise on the path faith may follow it, and it will lead to God. (Text.)
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PROMISES, BROKEN
I remember when I lived in Brooklyn there used to be a fence around the City Hall. A man used to stand there, grasping the iron railing in his hand, and looking up at the clock, every day at noon; and when it struck 12, he would count each stroke and look about him, his face full of joy and hope. But after two or three minutes the light would fade out of his eyes, and he would be turned into an old man, and would drag his feet slowly away. For nine years he did this, until death took him. I was told that at some great business crisis of his life a man had promised to bring him some hundreds of dollars at a particular time, to rescue him from failure. The man did not come, and he found out he never intended to come; and the great disappointment shattered his brain, and day after day he was at the City Hall, looking for the man who never came. The guilt of human hearts has made men give promises to get rid of importunate persons. Some of us have become cynics because we have found men so ready to promise falsely.—D. A. Goodsell.
I remember when I lived in Brooklyn there used to be a fence around the City Hall. A man used to stand there, grasping the iron railing in his hand, and looking up at the clock, every day at noon; and when it struck 12, he would count each stroke and look about him, his face full of joy and hope. But after two or three minutes the light would fade out of his eyes, and he would be turned into an old man, and would drag his feet slowly away. For nine years he did this, until death took him. I was told that at some great business crisis of his life a man had promised to bring him some hundreds of dollars at a particular time, to rescue him from failure. The man did not come, and he found out he never intended to come; and the great disappointment shattered his brain, and day after day he was at the City Hall, looking for the man who never came. The guilt of human hearts has made men give promises to get rid of importunate persons. Some of us have become cynics because we have found men so ready to promise falsely.—D. A. Goodsell.
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PROMISES, IMPLIED
A promise may sometimes be binding on the conscience even when not made in specific terms:
M. Fallieres was presiding at a banquet at Agen, when a piece of money dropt from his waistcoat pocket to the floor. His neighbor said: “I think you have let fall a 2f. piece.” But he replied, “Let it be; that will be a lucky find for the waiter,” and he called the latter, whispering to him to look out for a 2f. piece, which he would find somewhere under his seat on the floor. Toward the end of dinner M. Fallieres was seen by his neighbor to be feeling with a preoccupied air in his waistcoat pockets. As he rose he looked round, fancied he was not observed, and gently let a 2f. piece slide down to the floor. His neighbor, who had noticed the strange proceeding, asked M. Fallieres afterward if he would tell him what it meant. “The fact is,” Mr. Fallieres answered, “that I remembered that I keep only coppers in my left-hand pocket, from which the piece dropt that you supposed was 2f.,whereas it must have been only 2 sous. So I took out of my right pocket, in which I keep my silver, another coin, which that time really was a 2f. piece, and dropt it for the waiter to find. I did not want to disappoint the man after telling him, you see.” (Text.)
M. Fallieres was presiding at a banquet at Agen, when a piece of money dropt from his waistcoat pocket to the floor. His neighbor said: “I think you have let fall a 2f. piece.” But he replied, “Let it be; that will be a lucky find for the waiter,” and he called the latter, whispering to him to look out for a 2f. piece, which he would find somewhere under his seat on the floor. Toward the end of dinner M. Fallieres was seen by his neighbor to be feeling with a preoccupied air in his waistcoat pockets. As he rose he looked round, fancied he was not observed, and gently let a 2f. piece slide down to the floor. His neighbor, who had noticed the strange proceeding, asked M. Fallieres afterward if he would tell him what it meant. “The fact is,” Mr. Fallieres answered, “that I remembered that I keep only coppers in my left-hand pocket, from which the piece dropt that you supposed was 2f.,whereas it must have been only 2 sous. So I took out of my right pocket, in which I keep my silver, another coin, which that time really was a 2f. piece, and dropt it for the waiter to find. I did not want to disappoint the man after telling him, you see.” (Text.)
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PROMOTION, HINDRANCES TO