It is said that when wolves meditate an attack upon the wild horses of the Mexican plains they are very subtle in their maneuvers. First, two wolves come out of the woods and begin to play together like two kittens. They gambol about each other and run backward and forward. Then the herd of horses raise their frightened heads in readiness for a stampede. But the wolves seem to be so playful that the horses, after watching them a while, forget their fears and continue to graze, at perfect ease in their eating. Then the wolves, in their play, come nearer and nearer, while other wolves slowly and stealthily creep after them. Then suddenly the enemies encircle the herd, and with one lunge the doomed horses are in the pitiless grasp of the wily foe. They desperately fight a losing battle as the fierce brutes sink their fangs in the horses’ throats.
It is said that when wolves meditate an attack upon the wild horses of the Mexican plains they are very subtle in their maneuvers. First, two wolves come out of the woods and begin to play together like two kittens. They gambol about each other and run backward and forward. Then the herd of horses raise their frightened heads in readiness for a stampede. But the wolves seem to be so playful that the horses, after watching them a while, forget their fears and continue to graze, at perfect ease in their eating. Then the wolves, in their play, come nearer and nearer, while other wolves slowly and stealthily creep after them. Then suddenly the enemies encircle the herd, and with one lunge the doomed horses are in the pitiless grasp of the wily foe. They desperately fight a losing battle as the fierce brutes sink their fangs in the horses’ throats.
In a similar way evil companions seek to lay a snare for those whom they would entrap.
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SUCCESS
It often turns out that our apparent successes are really our undoing. Croake James tells this incident:
I was mightily delighted with the whim I was shown on a sign at a village not far from this capital, tho it is too serious a truth to excite one’s risibility. On one side is painted a man stark naked, with this motto: “I am the man who went to law and lost my cause.” On the reverse is a fellow all in tatters, looking most dismally with this motto: “I am the man who went to law and won my cause.” (Text.)—“Curiosities of Law and Lawyers.”
I was mightily delighted with the whim I was shown on a sign at a village not far from this capital, tho it is too serious a truth to excite one’s risibility. On one side is painted a man stark naked, with this motto: “I am the man who went to law and lost my cause.” On the reverse is a fellow all in tatters, looking most dismally with this motto: “I am the man who went to law and won my cause.” (Text.)—“Curiosities of Law and Lawyers.”
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A Nebraska woman won a prize of $250 for this essay on “What Constitutes Success,” written in competition with many others:
He has achieved success who has lived well, laughed often and loved much; who has gained the respect of intelligent men and the love of little children; who has filled his niche and accomplished his task; who has left the world better than he found it, whether by an improved poppy, a perfect poem or a rescued soul; who has never lacked appreciation of earth’s beauty or failed to express it; who has always looked for the best in others and given them the best he had; whose life was an inspiration; whose memory a benediction.
He has achieved success who has lived well, laughed often and loved much; who has gained the respect of intelligent men and the love of little children; who has filled his niche and accomplished his task; who has left the world better than he found it, whether by an improved poppy, a perfect poem or a rescued soul; who has never lacked appreciation of earth’s beauty or failed to express it; who has always looked for the best in others and given them the best he had; whose life was an inspiration; whose memory a benediction.
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SUCCESS AND CIRCUMSTANCES
I remember Thackeray saying to me, concerning a certain chapter in one of his books that the critics agreed in accusing of carelessness: “Careless? If I’ve written that chapter once, I’ve written it a dozen times—and each time worse than the last!” a proof that labor did not assist in his case. When an artist fails it is not so much from carelessness—to do his best is not only profitable to him, but a joy. But it is not given to every man—not, indeed, to any—to succeed whenever and however he tries. The best painter that ever lived never entirely succeeded more than four or five times; that is to say, no artist ever painted more than four or five masterpieces, however high his general average may have been, for such success depends on the coincidence, not only of genius and inspiration, but of health and mood and a hundred other mysterious contingencies.—SirJohn Millais,Magazine of Art.
I remember Thackeray saying to me, concerning a certain chapter in one of his books that the critics agreed in accusing of carelessness: “Careless? If I’ve written that chapter once, I’ve written it a dozen times—and each time worse than the last!” a proof that labor did not assist in his case. When an artist fails it is not so much from carelessness—to do his best is not only profitable to him, but a joy. But it is not given to every man—not, indeed, to any—to succeed whenever and however he tries. The best painter that ever lived never entirely succeeded more than four or five times; that is to say, no artist ever painted more than four or five masterpieces, however high his general average may have been, for such success depends on the coincidence, not only of genius and inspiration, but of health and mood and a hundred other mysterious contingencies.—SirJohn Millais,Magazine of Art.
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SUCCESS BY EXPERIMENTATION
A few years ago the cotton-boll weevil, which had increased steadily from year to year, reached a point at which it destroyed in Texas over $30,000,000 worth of cotton in one season. Many men in southern Texas were bankrupted, cotton-planting was given up in certain places, and it looked as if this great wealth-producing industry were doomed in Texas and probably also in time over the entire South. The practical farmers were completely overwhelmed. Here the Department of Agriculture started three lines of experimentation; first, to find some other harmless insect or parasite that would destroy the boll weevil as the white scale had been destroyed in California; second, to develop a species of cotton that could resist weevil attack; and third, to find a method of cultivation that would lessen the injury of the attack of the weevil when made. The ants, which the department brought from South America to eat up the boll weevil, proved a failure, but the development of abetter method of cultivation and the use of better adapted varieties of cotton proved so successful that Texas farmers now, following the methods worked out by the department investigators, again raise their magnificent crops of cotton, in spite of the boll weevil.—The Evening Post.
A few years ago the cotton-boll weevil, which had increased steadily from year to year, reached a point at which it destroyed in Texas over $30,000,000 worth of cotton in one season. Many men in southern Texas were bankrupted, cotton-planting was given up in certain places, and it looked as if this great wealth-producing industry were doomed in Texas and probably also in time over the entire South. The practical farmers were completely overwhelmed. Here the Department of Agriculture started three lines of experimentation; first, to find some other harmless insect or parasite that would destroy the boll weevil as the white scale had been destroyed in California; second, to develop a species of cotton that could resist weevil attack; and third, to find a method of cultivation that would lessen the injury of the attack of the weevil when made. The ants, which the department brought from South America to eat up the boll weevil, proved a failure, but the development of abetter method of cultivation and the use of better adapted varieties of cotton proved so successful that Texas farmers now, following the methods worked out by the department investigators, again raise their magnificent crops of cotton, in spite of the boll weevil.—The Evening Post.
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SUCCESS FROM LABOR
“Paradise Lost” was finished in 1665, after seven years’ labor in darkness. With great difficulty Milton found a publisher, and for the great work, now the most honored poem in our literature, he received less than certain verse-makers of our day receive for a little song in one of our popular magazines. Its success was immediate, tho, like all his work, it met with venomous criticism.The work stamped him as one of the world’s great writers, and from England and the Continent pilgrims came in increasing numbers to speak their gratitude.—William J. Long, “English Literature.”
“Paradise Lost” was finished in 1665, after seven years’ labor in darkness. With great difficulty Milton found a publisher, and for the great work, now the most honored poem in our literature, he received less than certain verse-makers of our day receive for a little song in one of our popular magazines. Its success was immediate, tho, like all his work, it met with venomous criticism.
The work stamped him as one of the world’s great writers, and from England and the Continent pilgrims came in increasing numbers to speak their gratitude.—William J. Long, “English Literature.”
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SUCCESS IN FAILURE
Success Magazineappropriately publishes these lines:
There is no failure. God’s immortal planAccounts no loss a lesson learned for man.Defeat is oft the discipline we needTo save us from the wrong, or teaching heedTo errors which would else more dearly cost—A lesson learned is ne’er a battle lost.Whene’er the cause is right, be not afraid;Defeat is then but victory delayed—And e’en the greatest vic’tries of the worldAre often won when battle-flags are furled.
There is no failure. God’s immortal planAccounts no loss a lesson learned for man.Defeat is oft the discipline we needTo save us from the wrong, or teaching heedTo errors which would else more dearly cost—A lesson learned is ne’er a battle lost.Whene’er the cause is right, be not afraid;Defeat is then but victory delayed—And e’en the greatest vic’tries of the worldAre often won when battle-flags are furled.
There is no failure. God’s immortal planAccounts no loss a lesson learned for man.Defeat is oft the discipline we needTo save us from the wrong, or teaching heedTo errors which would else more dearly cost—A lesson learned is ne’er a battle lost.Whene’er the cause is right, be not afraid;Defeat is then but victory delayed—And e’en the greatest vic’tries of the worldAre often won when battle-flags are furled.
There is no failure. God’s immortal plan
Accounts no loss a lesson learned for man.
Defeat is oft the discipline we need
To save us from the wrong, or teaching heed
To errors which would else more dearly cost—
A lesson learned is ne’er a battle lost.
Whene’er the cause is right, be not afraid;
Defeat is then but victory delayed—
And e’en the greatest vic’tries of the world
Are often won when battle-flags are furled.
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SeeFailure Leading to Success.
SUCCESS INSPIRES CONFIDENCE
Because Paul Armstrong in five days wrote “Alias Jimmy Valentine,” a New York success, another play, as yet unread by Liebler & Co., has been accepted by that firm. The exact conversation confirming this business deal is worthy of recording because of the brevity of it. Mr. Armstrong called at the office of the managers just as Mr. George C. Tyler, the managing editor, was getting ready to leave for Rochester, where “A Certain Party” was to open.“I have written a play,” said Mr. Armstrong.“What is it called?” asked Mr. Tyler.“It has no name,” said the author.“How long did it take you to write it?” asked Mr. Tyler.“Four days,” said Mr. Armstrong. “I wrote it in a day’s less time than ‘Jimmy Valentine.’”“I’ll accept it,” said Mr. Tyler, and shook hands on the bargain.—PhiladelphiaEnquirer.
Because Paul Armstrong in five days wrote “Alias Jimmy Valentine,” a New York success, another play, as yet unread by Liebler & Co., has been accepted by that firm. The exact conversation confirming this business deal is worthy of recording because of the brevity of it. Mr. Armstrong called at the office of the managers just as Mr. George C. Tyler, the managing editor, was getting ready to leave for Rochester, where “A Certain Party” was to open.
“I have written a play,” said Mr. Armstrong.
“What is it called?” asked Mr. Tyler.
“It has no name,” said the author.
“How long did it take you to write it?” asked Mr. Tyler.
“Four days,” said Mr. Armstrong. “I wrote it in a day’s less time than ‘Jimmy Valentine.’”
“I’ll accept it,” said Mr. Tyler, and shook hands on the bargain.—PhiladelphiaEnquirer.
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SUCCESS TOO DEAR
Judge Baldwin, of Indiana, it is said, in giving his advice to lawyers upon one occasion, told them that the course to be pursued by a lawyer was first to get on, second to get honor, and third to get honest. A man who follows that policy, in my judgment, is not such a lawyer as should be let loose in politics. (Text.)—George M. Palmer.
Judge Baldwin, of Indiana, it is said, in giving his advice to lawyers upon one occasion, told them that the course to be pursued by a lawyer was first to get on, second to get honor, and third to get honest. A man who follows that policy, in my judgment, is not such a lawyer as should be let loose in politics. (Text.)—George M. Palmer.
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Success, Ultimate—SeeExperiment.
SUFFERING
Oberlin, the illustrious pastor of the Ban de la Roche, used the following figure in comforting the sorrow of an afflicted lady:
Dear madam, I have now before me two stones; they are alike in color, they are of the same water, clear, pure and clean. But there is a great difference between them; one has a dazzling brightness, the other is quite dull. What is the reason of this difference? The one has been carefully cut, the other hardly touched. Now, had these stones been endowed with life, so as to have been capable of feeling what they underwent, the one which had received eighty cuts would have thought itself very unhappy, and would have envied the fate of the other, which, having received but eight, had undergone but a tenth part of its own sufferings. Yet the stone which had suffered little is dim and lusterless; the stone which has suffered greatly shines forth in dazzling brilliancy.
Dear madam, I have now before me two stones; they are alike in color, they are of the same water, clear, pure and clean. But there is a great difference between them; one has a dazzling brightness, the other is quite dull. What is the reason of this difference? The one has been carefully cut, the other hardly touched. Now, had these stones been endowed with life, so as to have been capable of feeling what they underwent, the one which had received eighty cuts would have thought itself very unhappy, and would have envied the fate of the other, which, having received but eight, had undergone but a tenth part of its own sufferings. Yet the stone which had suffered little is dim and lusterless; the stone which has suffered greatly shines forth in dazzling brilliancy.
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SUFFERING, FELLOWSHIP WITH CHRIST’S
John B. Tabb expresses the requirement laid on true disciples of Jesus, in this verse:
In patience, as in labor, must thou beA follower of me,Whose hands and feet, when most I wrought for thee,Were nailed unto a tree. (Text.)—The Independent.
In patience, as in labor, must thou beA follower of me,Whose hands and feet, when most I wrought for thee,Were nailed unto a tree. (Text.)—The Independent.
In patience, as in labor, must thou beA follower of me,Whose hands and feet, when most I wrought for thee,Were nailed unto a tree. (Text.)—The Independent.
In patience, as in labor, must thou be
A follower of me,
Whose hands and feet, when most I wrought for thee,
Were nailed unto a tree. (Text.)
—The Independent.
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SUFFERING FOR LOVE
He who for love has undergoneThe worst that can befall,Is happier thousandfold than oneWho never loved at all.A grace within his soul has reignedWhich nothing else can bring;Thank God for all that I have gainedBy that high suffering.—Lord Houghton.
He who for love has undergoneThe worst that can befall,Is happier thousandfold than oneWho never loved at all.A grace within his soul has reignedWhich nothing else can bring;Thank God for all that I have gainedBy that high suffering.—Lord Houghton.
He who for love has undergoneThe worst that can befall,Is happier thousandfold than oneWho never loved at all.A grace within his soul has reignedWhich nothing else can bring;Thank God for all that I have gainedBy that high suffering.—Lord Houghton.
He who for love has undergone
The worst that can befall,
Is happier thousandfold than one
Who never loved at all.
A grace within his soul has reigned
Which nothing else can bring;
Thank God for all that I have gained
By that high suffering.
—Lord Houghton.
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Suffering Ignored—SeeHeartless Pagans.
Suffering that Develops—SeeAdversity Helping Genius.
SUFFERING TRANSFORMED
Christ teaches us how, under the redemptive government of God, suffering has become a subtle and magnificent process for the full and final perfecting of human character. Science tells us how the bird-music, which is one of nature’s foremost charms, has arisen out of the bird’s cry of distress in the morning of time; how originally the music of field and forest was nothing more than an exclamation caused by the bird’s bodily pain and fear, and how through the ages the primal note of anguish has been evolved and differentiated until it has risen into the ecstasy of the lark, melted into the silver note of the dove, swelled into the rapture of the nightingale, unfolded into the vast and varied music of the sky and the summer. So Christ shows us that out of the personal sorrow which now rends the believer’s heart he shall arise in moral and infinite perfection; that out of the cry of anguish wrung from us by the present distress shall spring the supreme music of the future. (Text.)—W. L. Watkinson, “The Transfigured Sackcloth.”
Christ teaches us how, under the redemptive government of God, suffering has become a subtle and magnificent process for the full and final perfecting of human character. Science tells us how the bird-music, which is one of nature’s foremost charms, has arisen out of the bird’s cry of distress in the morning of time; how originally the music of field and forest was nothing more than an exclamation caused by the bird’s bodily pain and fear, and how through the ages the primal note of anguish has been evolved and differentiated until it has risen into the ecstasy of the lark, melted into the silver note of the dove, swelled into the rapture of the nightingale, unfolded into the vast and varied music of the sky and the summer. So Christ shows us that out of the personal sorrow which now rends the believer’s heart he shall arise in moral and infinite perfection; that out of the cry of anguish wrung from us by the present distress shall spring the supreme music of the future. (Text.)—W. L. Watkinson, “The Transfigured Sackcloth.”
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SUFFERING TURNED TO SONG
In Edinburgh when they were celebrating the life of Dr. George Matheson, the blind preacher, Robertson Nicoll said that he was the greatest Scotsman since Thomas Chalmers. Divide that statement in two in the middle, and you still have a great man. At twenty the youth left a surgeon’s office, with these words echoing in the porches of the ear, “Better see your friends quickly, for soon the darkness will settle, and you will see them no more forever.” Then his biographer tells us that the youth went on with his studies, by listening while others read or recited. Had Matheson been able to read early church history, he would have been a great scholar. Had he been able to read the story of the thinkers and system-builders, he would have been a great philosopher. But the greatest thing he ever did, it seems, was in life. We are told that there came a day when his visions dissolved, and he realized that he must go alone across the years. The storm tore down the perfumed vines that were climbing about the doorway of man’s soul. And the vine suffered grievously. But the youth coerced his lips to silence, went apart and hid himself for a day. When he came out it was with suffering turned to song. What will they celebrate as the blind preacher’s greatest achievement, in that memorial service in Edinburgh? Listen to the exploit of a faith-man, singing in the hour when love dwells amidst her ruins:
In Edinburgh when they were celebrating the life of Dr. George Matheson, the blind preacher, Robertson Nicoll said that he was the greatest Scotsman since Thomas Chalmers. Divide that statement in two in the middle, and you still have a great man. At twenty the youth left a surgeon’s office, with these words echoing in the porches of the ear, “Better see your friends quickly, for soon the darkness will settle, and you will see them no more forever.” Then his biographer tells us that the youth went on with his studies, by listening while others read or recited. Had Matheson been able to read early church history, he would have been a great scholar. Had he been able to read the story of the thinkers and system-builders, he would have been a great philosopher. But the greatest thing he ever did, it seems, was in life. We are told that there came a day when his visions dissolved, and he realized that he must go alone across the years. The storm tore down the perfumed vines that were climbing about the doorway of man’s soul. And the vine suffered grievously. But the youth coerced his lips to silence, went apart and hid himself for a day. When he came out it was with suffering turned to song. What will they celebrate as the blind preacher’s greatest achievement, in that memorial service in Edinburgh? Listen to the exploit of a faith-man, singing in the hour when love dwells amidst her ruins:
O Love that will not let me go,I rest my weary soul in thee;I give thee back the life I oweThat in thine ocean depths its flowMay richer, fuller be.—N. D. Hillis.
O Love that will not let me go,I rest my weary soul in thee;I give thee back the life I oweThat in thine ocean depths its flowMay richer, fuller be.—N. D. Hillis.
O Love that will not let me go,I rest my weary soul in thee;I give thee back the life I oweThat in thine ocean depths its flowMay richer, fuller be.—N. D. Hillis.
O Love that will not let me go,
I rest my weary soul in thee;
I give thee back the life I owe
That in thine ocean depths its flow
May richer, fuller be.
—N. D. Hillis.
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SUFFERING UNIVERSAL
In the great earthquake which a large part of California experienced all animate nature suffered. For hours after the principal shock domestic animals manifested the utmost terror. Cattle lowed continuously; dogs barked long and lustily; cats crawled away and hid, and remained in hiding a large part of the day; and when they finally came forth, would crawl along crouching with bodies nearly touching the ground. Even the following night their fear had not left them. During the first half of the night we listened to a continuous chorus of howls and barkings, in which every dog in the city joined. About midnight the dogs ceased and the roosters took up the fear-inspired chant. It seemed as if every chicken in the city and surrounding country had joined this nocturnal orchestra, whose members scarcely stopt to take breath.In driving along the road, the writer noticed a large flock of barn-swallows around a small mud-puddle in the middle of the road. As they alighted they kept their wings extended straight up in the air and fluttering, while they drove their bills almost fiercely into the mud. A bystander explained that all their nests had been shaken down and they were rebuilding. To them calamity had come in the loss of their nests, their eggs,and mayhap their little ones. This little indication of common suffering made the feathered family seem much closer to the human. (Text.)
In the great earthquake which a large part of California experienced all animate nature suffered. For hours after the principal shock domestic animals manifested the utmost terror. Cattle lowed continuously; dogs barked long and lustily; cats crawled away and hid, and remained in hiding a large part of the day; and when they finally came forth, would crawl along crouching with bodies nearly touching the ground. Even the following night their fear had not left them. During the first half of the night we listened to a continuous chorus of howls and barkings, in which every dog in the city joined. About midnight the dogs ceased and the roosters took up the fear-inspired chant. It seemed as if every chicken in the city and surrounding country had joined this nocturnal orchestra, whose members scarcely stopt to take breath.
In driving along the road, the writer noticed a large flock of barn-swallows around a small mud-puddle in the middle of the road. As they alighted they kept their wings extended straight up in the air and fluttering, while they drove their bills almost fiercely into the mud. A bystander explained that all their nests had been shaken down and they were rebuilding. To them calamity had come in the loss of their nests, their eggs,and mayhap their little ones. This little indication of common suffering made the feathered family seem much closer to the human. (Text.)
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Suffering, Unnecessary—SeeHelp Unrecognized.
Suffrage, Woman—SeeRetort, A.
SUGGESTION
A few years ago in a certain part of England the weather was so continuously beastly—that’s the term they used—that at last, wearying of looking at the barometers day after day, week in and week out, the entire inhabitants of a certain seaport town, in sheer disgust, gathered up their weather-glasses and dumped them into the old junk shops. Both the weather and the barometers flooded them with disagreeable suggestions. They could not do away with the weather, but they could with their barometers that seemed to serve no better purpose than to accentuate their discontent.—Robert MacDonald.
A few years ago in a certain part of England the weather was so continuously beastly—that’s the term they used—that at last, wearying of looking at the barometers day after day, week in and week out, the entire inhabitants of a certain seaport town, in sheer disgust, gathered up their weather-glasses and dumped them into the old junk shops. Both the weather and the barometers flooded them with disagreeable suggestions. They could not do away with the weather, but they could with their barometers that seemed to serve no better purpose than to accentuate their discontent.—Robert MacDonald.
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Sometimes a word or phrase will do in literature what a sketch will do in charcoal, defining a character and suggesting a whole line of possibilities. An instance of this is in the following fromEverybody’s Magazine:
After a certain jury had been out an inordinately long time on a very simple case, they filed into the court-room, and the foreman told the judge they were unable to agree upon a verdict. The latter rebuked them, saying the case was a very clear one, and remanded them back to the jury-room for a second attempt, adding, “If you are there too long I will have to send you in twelve suppers.”The foreman, in a rather irritated tone, spoke up and said: “May it please your honor, you might send in eleven suppers and one bundle of hay.”
After a certain jury had been out an inordinately long time on a very simple case, they filed into the court-room, and the foreman told the judge they were unable to agree upon a verdict. The latter rebuked them, saying the case was a very clear one, and remanded them back to the jury-room for a second attempt, adding, “If you are there too long I will have to send you in twelve suppers.”
The foreman, in a rather irritated tone, spoke up and said: “May it please your honor, you might send in eleven suppers and one bundle of hay.”
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SeeNegative Teaching.
Suggestion, Unhealthy—SeeTalking and Sickness.
SUICIDE PREVENTED
Some time since a young man who had spent his substance in riotous living was reduced to poverty. He wandered away from home, and being unable to support himself, he resolved upon self-destruction. He filled his pockets with lead, and, determined to drown himself, went to the river. Deciding to wait until dark, he was attracted by a light in the window of a house at no great distance, and went to it. The people were singing hymns. He listened at the door until a chapter from the Bible was read and prayer was offered to God. When the prayer was ended he knocked at the door and was admitted. The passage under consideration that evening was, “Do thyself no harm.” When the services were concluded the stranger asked them how they came to know his thoughts, for he had not mentioned his intention. The members of the meeting were equally surprized, as they had never before seen him. The young man then told them his design of taking his life and how he had been prevented. He became an eminent Christian. (Text.)
Some time since a young man who had spent his substance in riotous living was reduced to poverty. He wandered away from home, and being unable to support himself, he resolved upon self-destruction. He filled his pockets with lead, and, determined to drown himself, went to the river. Deciding to wait until dark, he was attracted by a light in the window of a house at no great distance, and went to it. The people were singing hymns. He listened at the door until a chapter from the Bible was read and prayer was offered to God. When the prayer was ended he knocked at the door and was admitted. The passage under consideration that evening was, “Do thyself no harm.” When the services were concluded the stranger asked them how they came to know his thoughts, for he had not mentioned his intention. The members of the meeting were equally surprized, as they had never before seen him. The young man then told them his design of taking his life and how he had been prevented. He became an eminent Christian. (Text.)
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SUMMER IN THE HEART
Springtime may lose its freshest tints,And autumn-leaves their gold.The bitter blast and snowy wreathMay sweep across the wold;But the years are full of splendorsThat never will depart,For they shed eternal fragranceWhen there’s summer in the heart.The shadows linger on the earth,The sunbeams hide away;The sad mists fold their chill white handsAbout the face of day;The tumult and the rush of lifeSound ay in street and mart;But they can not drown life’s musicWhen there’s summer in the heart.The city towers are crumbling fast,And totter to their fall;The ivied castle on the heightShows many a ruined wall;But men build eternal buildingsWith strange and wondrous art;They are shrines for the immortalsWhen there’s summer in the heart.—MontrealStar.
Springtime may lose its freshest tints,And autumn-leaves their gold.The bitter blast and snowy wreathMay sweep across the wold;But the years are full of splendorsThat never will depart,For they shed eternal fragranceWhen there’s summer in the heart.The shadows linger on the earth,The sunbeams hide away;The sad mists fold their chill white handsAbout the face of day;The tumult and the rush of lifeSound ay in street and mart;But they can not drown life’s musicWhen there’s summer in the heart.The city towers are crumbling fast,And totter to their fall;The ivied castle on the heightShows many a ruined wall;But men build eternal buildingsWith strange and wondrous art;They are shrines for the immortalsWhen there’s summer in the heart.—MontrealStar.
Springtime may lose its freshest tints,And autumn-leaves their gold.The bitter blast and snowy wreathMay sweep across the wold;But the years are full of splendorsThat never will depart,For they shed eternal fragranceWhen there’s summer in the heart.
Springtime may lose its freshest tints,
And autumn-leaves their gold.
The bitter blast and snowy wreath
May sweep across the wold;
But the years are full of splendors
That never will depart,
For they shed eternal fragrance
When there’s summer in the heart.
The shadows linger on the earth,The sunbeams hide away;The sad mists fold their chill white handsAbout the face of day;The tumult and the rush of lifeSound ay in street and mart;But they can not drown life’s musicWhen there’s summer in the heart.
The shadows linger on the earth,
The sunbeams hide away;
The sad mists fold their chill white hands
About the face of day;
The tumult and the rush of life
Sound ay in street and mart;
But they can not drown life’s music
When there’s summer in the heart.
The city towers are crumbling fast,And totter to their fall;The ivied castle on the heightShows many a ruined wall;But men build eternal buildingsWith strange and wondrous art;They are shrines for the immortalsWhen there’s summer in the heart.—MontrealStar.
The city towers are crumbling fast,
And totter to their fall;
The ivied castle on the height
Shows many a ruined wall;
But men build eternal buildings
With strange and wondrous art;
They are shrines for the immortals
When there’s summer in the heart.
—MontrealStar.
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Sun The, as a Witness—SeeTests.
SUN, THE BUSINESS OF A
I remember walking in Switzerland, late in the evening in a raging thunder-storm. The darkness could be felt as well as the rain. Little points of light now and thenby the roadside attracted my attention. On stopping to examine, there was a glowworm whose little flame had hollowed out of the immensity of darkness a small sphere of light, into which the grasses bent, all beaded with crystal drops. A most exquisite picture. Shelley speaks of a “glowworm golden in a dell of dew.” To go back to our camp-fire: After supper I stept down to the shore of the lake and there, far across its invisible surface, gleamed a little point of light. I knew that other campers were making themselves comfortable and happy in the little sphere of light and warmth which their fire had hollowed out of the all-embracing darkness.
I remember walking in Switzerland, late in the evening in a raging thunder-storm. The darkness could be felt as well as the rain. Little points of light now and thenby the roadside attracted my attention. On stopping to examine, there was a glowworm whose little flame had hollowed out of the immensity of darkness a small sphere of light, into which the grasses bent, all beaded with crystal drops. A most exquisite picture. Shelley speaks of a “glowworm golden in a dell of dew.” To go back to our camp-fire: After supper I stept down to the shore of the lake and there, far across its invisible surface, gleamed a little point of light. I knew that other campers were making themselves comfortable and happy in the little sphere of light and warmth which their fire had hollowed out of the all-embracing darkness.
Now, that precisely is the business of a sun. It is nothing more or less than a great fire built, as only God knows how, for the purpose of hollowing out of the eternal darkness and cold of space a sphere of light and warmth large enough for a group or family of worlds to live in. The sun is as purely a mechanical contrivance as your household fire. In fact, it is just that. Our sun is the family hearth, in whose light and heat our group of worlds live as in a home.—James H. Ecob.
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SUNDAY DESECRATION BY CHRISTIANS
Many years ago in Kyoto, Japan, the question was asked me, “Are there many Christians in America?” You can imagine how pathetic it was. I said, “Why do you ask that question?” My questioner was a fine, handsome, educated man, one of the finest of the Japanese type. He said, “Some years ago I became a Christian. I kept the finest store in Kyoto, as the tourists thought. I had gathered a great quantity of old relics from the temples and the homes that are so scarce now in Japan. I always used to keep my store closed on Sunday, but many Americans and Englishmen and Germans came through here and said, ‘If you can not open your store for us on Sunday, we will not trade with you, as we have to leave on Monday.’ By and by I had to keep my store open.” He has kept it open ever since, and he added, “My neighbor, the shoemaker, is a Christian, and keeps his store shut all the time on Sunday.” I suppose the reason was that there was not a large demand for Japanese shoes on the part of American and English travelers. That is a genuine touch of human nature.—Edward B. Sturges, “Student Volunteer Movement,” 1906.
Many years ago in Kyoto, Japan, the question was asked me, “Are there many Christians in America?” You can imagine how pathetic it was. I said, “Why do you ask that question?” My questioner was a fine, handsome, educated man, one of the finest of the Japanese type. He said, “Some years ago I became a Christian. I kept the finest store in Kyoto, as the tourists thought. I had gathered a great quantity of old relics from the temples and the homes that are so scarce now in Japan. I always used to keep my store closed on Sunday, but many Americans and Englishmen and Germans came through here and said, ‘If you can not open your store for us on Sunday, we will not trade with you, as we have to leave on Monday.’ By and by I had to keep my store open.” He has kept it open ever since, and he added, “My neighbor, the shoemaker, is a Christian, and keeps his store shut all the time on Sunday.” I suppose the reason was that there was not a large demand for Japanese shoes on the part of American and English travelers. That is a genuine touch of human nature.—Edward B. Sturges, “Student Volunteer Movement,” 1906.
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SeeSabbath, Observing the.
Sunday Habit, A Bad—SeeLying Around.
SUNDAY NEWSPAPERS
When Dr. Charles J. Young, pastor of the Church of the Puritans, New York, was waited upon by a lady reporter of a secular journal, for a snappy article on the subject of Sunday newspapers, this is what she got:
“As a matter of fact,” said Dr. Young, “I actually believe in the Ten Commandments as divine enactments, and this is how I feel about it: Suppose you invite me as a friend to dine at your house and I accept. You would make special preparation for my coming. It is woman’s way to give her best where she gives her confidence and friendship. So there you have a rich repast all ready against my coming. Now imagine my stopping at a street corner on the way to your home and gorging myself from the peanut-stand of the noble Roman who deals out his wares to all who come without a care of the consequences; I ask this common-sense question: What condition would I be in to enjoy your luscious viands, and what kind of courtesy or appreciation would this be for all your kindness in preparing for me? Well, my friend, you see the application of this without my making it. There across the street stands the house of the dearest Friend I have ever had. One day out of seven He invites me there to meet with Him and to commune with Him and to receive from Him such supply as He has especially provided and adapted to my hungry, needy, immortal soul. I ask again, is it consistent with a spiritual worship, is it conducive to a devotional mind, is it either courteous to God or just to myself, if on the morning of that sacred day I fill my thoughts with the secularities, the commercialisms, the gossips, the scandal, the general excrescences of every-day rough-and-tumble life in this mammon-loving age?“My interviewer was silent for a surprizing length of time. Maybe I was wrong, but I fancied she looked up from the floor with a moistened eye and said in a quivering voice: ‘I have never thought of this view of thematter before, and I confess I am able now to see but one fair answer to your question: It can not be.’”—Sunday-school Illustrator.
“As a matter of fact,” said Dr. Young, “I actually believe in the Ten Commandments as divine enactments, and this is how I feel about it: Suppose you invite me as a friend to dine at your house and I accept. You would make special preparation for my coming. It is woman’s way to give her best where she gives her confidence and friendship. So there you have a rich repast all ready against my coming. Now imagine my stopping at a street corner on the way to your home and gorging myself from the peanut-stand of the noble Roman who deals out his wares to all who come without a care of the consequences; I ask this common-sense question: What condition would I be in to enjoy your luscious viands, and what kind of courtesy or appreciation would this be for all your kindness in preparing for me? Well, my friend, you see the application of this without my making it. There across the street stands the house of the dearest Friend I have ever had. One day out of seven He invites me there to meet with Him and to commune with Him and to receive from Him such supply as He has especially provided and adapted to my hungry, needy, immortal soul. I ask again, is it consistent with a spiritual worship, is it conducive to a devotional mind, is it either courteous to God or just to myself, if on the morning of that sacred day I fill my thoughts with the secularities, the commercialisms, the gossips, the scandal, the general excrescences of every-day rough-and-tumble life in this mammon-loving age?
“My interviewer was silent for a surprizing length of time. Maybe I was wrong, but I fancied she looked up from the floor with a moistened eye and said in a quivering voice: ‘I have never thought of this view of thematter before, and I confess I am able now to see but one fair answer to your question: It can not be.’”—Sunday-school Illustrator.
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SUNDAY RECORDED
Rev. Egerton R. Young tells of a big Indian chieftainess who came to see him one day. Her people lived a fortnight’s journey away, but she had heard of the paleface and his wife, who, with their wonderful Book, had come to live down among the Saulteaux. She did not believe what she heard but she came to find out. Her curiosity and her desire to learn were both insatiable. She would talk morning, noon and night. At last she was returning, satisfied that what the paleface said was true and determining to go back to pray to the true God. Mr. Young said to her, “Now, if you are going back to live as a Christian, you must keep one day in seven as God’s day. Do not attend to worldly matters on that day, but worship God.” He gave her a sheet of paper and told her each day to make a mark so | until there were six of them | | | | | |, and then to make a big heavy markI, and when that day came, to leave the gun and the rifle quiet in the wigwam. He told her to work hard on Saturday, to get enough food for Sunday, so she could be free to think about the Great Spirit and pray to the living Father.Five months later Mr. Young made his first visit to the tribe of this great chieftainess, and she drew from her bosom a soiled, greasy paper, on which was the record of the days as he had bidden her to keep them, and she knew just how many days more must be counted before the next “praying day” should come. (Text.)
Rev. Egerton R. Young tells of a big Indian chieftainess who came to see him one day. Her people lived a fortnight’s journey away, but she had heard of the paleface and his wife, who, with their wonderful Book, had come to live down among the Saulteaux. She did not believe what she heard but she came to find out. Her curiosity and her desire to learn were both insatiable. She would talk morning, noon and night. At last she was returning, satisfied that what the paleface said was true and determining to go back to pray to the true God. Mr. Young said to her, “Now, if you are going back to live as a Christian, you must keep one day in seven as God’s day. Do not attend to worldly matters on that day, but worship God.” He gave her a sheet of paper and told her each day to make a mark so | until there were six of them | | | | | |, and then to make a big heavy markI, and when that day came, to leave the gun and the rifle quiet in the wigwam. He told her to work hard on Saturday, to get enough food for Sunday, so she could be free to think about the Great Spirit and pray to the living Father.
Five months later Mr. Young made his first visit to the tribe of this great chieftainess, and she drew from her bosom a soiled, greasy paper, on which was the record of the days as he had bidden her to keep them, and she knew just how many days more must be counted before the next “praying day” should come. (Text.)
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Sunday Rules—SeePew, If I Were in the.
SUNDAY-SCHOOL IN EARLY DAYS
I have a very definite picture of my own grandmother, when quite advanced in years, patiently teaching one or two illiterates to spell and to read, in the Sunday-school of an Episcopal church in a little country village in Vermont, where she was then residing; and as late as 1837 one object of the Sunday-school Society of Ireland was “to supply spelling-books and copies of the Scriptures” to the various Sunday-schools of the island. In fact, most of the early work was the teaching of reading and morality, and the Sunday-school was a sort of mission school among the unfortunate, the vicious, and the illiterate. Others did not attend, and it was only by very definite effort that the change to the present status was finally brought about. I remember hearing an army officer say that as late as 1845, in central New York, where he then resided as a boy of some twelve years of age, he was soundly whipt by his father because he had exprest his unwillingness to attend one of the “ragged schools”—as the Sunday-schools in his vicinity were then called; and he added that his impressions of the low caste of the school were so definite that he took his whipping like a man and without complaint.—James H. Canfield, “Proceedings of the Religious Education Association,” 1904.
I have a very definite picture of my own grandmother, when quite advanced in years, patiently teaching one or two illiterates to spell and to read, in the Sunday-school of an Episcopal church in a little country village in Vermont, where she was then residing; and as late as 1837 one object of the Sunday-school Society of Ireland was “to supply spelling-books and copies of the Scriptures” to the various Sunday-schools of the island. In fact, most of the early work was the teaching of reading and morality, and the Sunday-school was a sort of mission school among the unfortunate, the vicious, and the illiterate. Others did not attend, and it was only by very definite effort that the change to the present status was finally brought about. I remember hearing an army officer say that as late as 1845, in central New York, where he then resided as a boy of some twelve years of age, he was soundly whipt by his father because he had exprest his unwillingness to attend one of the “ragged schools”—as the Sunday-schools in his vicinity were then called; and he added that his impressions of the low caste of the school were so definite that he took his whipping like a man and without complaint.—James H. Canfield, “Proceedings of the Religious Education Association,” 1904.
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Sunday-school Missionary Work—SeeBoys’ Missionary Efforts.
SUNDAY WORK DISCONTINUED
Over four years ago the Chicago and Northwestern Railway Company decided to carry no more Sunday excursions; to run only such Sunday freight trains as were necessary to carry live stock and certain perishable goods; and to stop all Sunday work in freight-yards and sheds for twelve hours every Sunday.There was great opposition to this action. A boycott was threatened by brewers and other shippers, while the adverse criticisms were abundant and scathing.The last annual report of this railway gives striking endorsement as to the success of this policy of reduction of Sunday business. We are informed that the financial profits of the roads have increased 100 per cent during these four years; also, that last year not one life was lost on the whole line covering several thousand miles, with its many fast express, mail and freight trains; and there are practically no complaints from shippers and receivers of freight as to delays for cars, or delivery of goods.—The Christian Statesman.
Over four years ago the Chicago and Northwestern Railway Company decided to carry no more Sunday excursions; to run only such Sunday freight trains as were necessary to carry live stock and certain perishable goods; and to stop all Sunday work in freight-yards and sheds for twelve hours every Sunday.
There was great opposition to this action. A boycott was threatened by brewers and other shippers, while the adverse criticisms were abundant and scathing.
The last annual report of this railway gives striking endorsement as to the success of this policy of reduction of Sunday business. We are informed that the financial profits of the roads have increased 100 per cent during these four years; also, that last year not one life was lost on the whole line covering several thousand miles, with its many fast express, mail and freight trains; and there are practically no complaints from shippers and receivers of freight as to delays for cars, or delivery of goods.—The Christian Statesman.
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SeeSabbath, Observing the.
SUNLIGHT AND STARLIGHT
There is a Sun of Righteousness, before whose shining all the lesser human lights are dimmed, as starlight by the sunshine.
The extinction of “starlight” in the daylight is not due to the vapors of the atmosphere, but to the stronger vibrations of sunlight, which prevent our eyes perceiving theweaker vibrations of the starlight, exactly as a stronger sound, say a cannon-shot, prevents us from hearing a smaller noise, say a mouse piping; or, as is well known, a larger disturbance in water extinguishes a smaller one. The smaller noise, the smaller sound waves, and the smaller light vibrations are not perceived by our senses when the greater impressions or disturbances occupy them. (Text.)
The extinction of “starlight” in the daylight is not due to the vapors of the atmosphere, but to the stronger vibrations of sunlight, which prevent our eyes perceiving theweaker vibrations of the starlight, exactly as a stronger sound, say a cannon-shot, prevents us from hearing a smaller noise, say a mouse piping; or, as is well known, a larger disturbance in water extinguishes a smaller one. The smaller noise, the smaller sound waves, and the smaller light vibrations are not perceived by our senses when the greater impressions or disturbances occupy them. (Text.)
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SUNDAY-SCHOOL STATISTICS
From the United States “Bureau of Census” Bulletin 103 are taken the following statistics of Sunday-schools in the continental United States:Of the 178,214 Sunday-schools conducted by church organizations, 165,128, or 92.7 per cent., are returned by the Protestant bodies; 11,172 or 6.3 per cent. by the Roman Catholic Church and 1,914, or 1.1 per cent., by the remaining bodies.Among the Protestant bodies, the Methodist bodies rank first, with 57,464 Sunday-schools, or 32.2 per cent. of the total, and the Baptist bodies come next with 43,178 or 24.2 per cent. of the total the two families together reporting considerably more than one-half the entire number of denominational Sunday-schools. If to these be added the Presbyterian bodies, with 14,452 Sunday-schools, the Lutheran bodies with 9,450, and the Disciples or Christians with 8,078, the 5 bodies combined report 132,622 Sunday-schools or nearly three-fourths (74.4 per cent.) of the entire number and more than four-fifths (80.3 per cent.) of all those reported by Protestant bodies.
From the United States “Bureau of Census” Bulletin 103 are taken the following statistics of Sunday-schools in the continental United States:
Of the 178,214 Sunday-schools conducted by church organizations, 165,128, or 92.7 per cent., are returned by the Protestant bodies; 11,172 or 6.3 per cent. by the Roman Catholic Church and 1,914, or 1.1 per cent., by the remaining bodies.
Among the Protestant bodies, the Methodist bodies rank first, with 57,464 Sunday-schools, or 32.2 per cent. of the total, and the Baptist bodies come next with 43,178 or 24.2 per cent. of the total the two families together reporting considerably more than one-half the entire number of denominational Sunday-schools. If to these be added the Presbyterian bodies, with 14,452 Sunday-schools, the Lutheran bodies with 9,450, and the Disciples or Christians with 8,078, the 5 bodies combined report 132,622 Sunday-schools or nearly three-fourths (74.4 per cent.) of the entire number and more than four-fifths (80.3 per cent.) of all those reported by Protestant bodies.
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Sunday School, The, As a Seed—SeeNeeds, Meeting Children’s.
SUNDAY-SCHOOLS IN THE UNITED STATES
[14]Less than one-tenth of 1 per cent.
[14]Less than one-tenth of 1 per cent.
SUNS, THE SIZE OF
How large are some of our neighbor suns? Alpha Centauri, our nearest neighbor, with its double sun, gives twice as much light aswe receive; great Sirius equals sixty-three of our suns; the Pole Star eighty-six. “Think of an eighty-fold sun. However, some are still more astonishing: Vega blazes with the light of three hundred and forty-four suns; Capella with the light of four hundred and thirty; Arcturus with the light of five hundred and sixteen, while mighty Alcyone, the glorious center around which we all, suns and worlds, are supposed to circle, blazes with the light of twelve thousand of our suns!” If our little sun can boast of a family with worlds of such beauty and greatness as Venus and Earth and glorious Saturn and mighty Jupiter, how shall we measure the number, the splendor and the magnitude of the worlds which circle about such centers as Sirius, Vega, Capella, Arcturus and Alcyone?—James H. Ecob.
How large are some of our neighbor suns? Alpha Centauri, our nearest neighbor, with its double sun, gives twice as much light aswe receive; great Sirius equals sixty-three of our suns; the Pole Star eighty-six. “Think of an eighty-fold sun. However, some are still more astonishing: Vega blazes with the light of three hundred and forty-four suns; Capella with the light of four hundred and thirty; Arcturus with the light of five hundred and sixteen, while mighty Alcyone, the glorious center around which we all, suns and worlds, are supposed to circle, blazes with the light of twelve thousand of our suns!” If our little sun can boast of a family with worlds of such beauty and greatness as Venus and Earth and glorious Saturn and mighty Jupiter, how shall we measure the number, the splendor and the magnitude of the worlds which circle about such centers as Sirius, Vega, Capella, Arcturus and Alcyone?—James H. Ecob.
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SUNSHINE