Chapter 90

A lad of seventeen was telling an older friend, recently, of an experience he had had that day. As the apprentice of a carpenter, he had been sent to a saloon to take the measures for a new counter. It was very cold weather, and he arrived with his teeth fairly chattering in his head, for his coat was thin. The saloon-keeper immediately mixt a hot drink and pushed it over the counter to him. “It’ll cost you nothing,” he said; “drink it down, and you’ll soon stop shivering, my boy.”“He meant it kindly, too, and didn’t think any harm,” said the apprentice, as he told the story. “That’s what made it harder to push it back, and I didn’t want it.”“It must have been a big temptation,” said the friend. “That saloon-keeper might have started you on the road to ruin.”“Well,” replied the lad frankly, “I’d rather have had it than some other kinds. You see, it takes two to make a temptation. There’s no saloon-keeper and no cold weather can make me drink when I don’t want to. The temptation I’m afraid of is the one that I’m ready for before it comes, by hankering afterit. I don’t take much credit to myself for refusing that drink; and, if I had taken it, why, I wouldn’t have put all the blame on the saloon-keeper, as some folks do. It takes two, every time, to make a successful temptation.”It was an honest way to look at the question. Temptation is not all a matter of outward happening, but also of inner readiness. No outsider can be responsible for our sins as we are responsible. “He tempted me” only explains one side of the temptation. The other side—the personal side—we must answer for, and no excuse will save us. “It takes two,” and one of the two is always our own responsible self.—Michigan Christian Advocate.

A lad of seventeen was telling an older friend, recently, of an experience he had had that day. As the apprentice of a carpenter, he had been sent to a saloon to take the measures for a new counter. It was very cold weather, and he arrived with his teeth fairly chattering in his head, for his coat was thin. The saloon-keeper immediately mixt a hot drink and pushed it over the counter to him. “It’ll cost you nothing,” he said; “drink it down, and you’ll soon stop shivering, my boy.”

“He meant it kindly, too, and didn’t think any harm,” said the apprentice, as he told the story. “That’s what made it harder to push it back, and I didn’t want it.”

“It must have been a big temptation,” said the friend. “That saloon-keeper might have started you on the road to ruin.”

“Well,” replied the lad frankly, “I’d rather have had it than some other kinds. You see, it takes two to make a temptation. There’s no saloon-keeper and no cold weather can make me drink when I don’t want to. The temptation I’m afraid of is the one that I’m ready for before it comes, by hankering afterit. I don’t take much credit to myself for refusing that drink; and, if I had taken it, why, I wouldn’t have put all the blame on the saloon-keeper, as some folks do. It takes two, every time, to make a successful temptation.”

It was an honest way to look at the question. Temptation is not all a matter of outward happening, but also of inner readiness. No outsider can be responsible for our sins as we are responsible. “He tempted me” only explains one side of the temptation. The other side—the personal side—we must answer for, and no excuse will save us. “It takes two,” and one of the two is always our own responsible self.—Michigan Christian Advocate.

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Temptations—SeeCurves of Temptation.

TENACITY

After Grant got fairly well started in his studies, the best he could say for himself is in this characteristic sentence to his father: “I don’t expect to make very fast progress, but I will try to hold on to what I get.” Here was somewhat a foreshadowing of the bulldog tenacity which afterward made him so famous.—Nicholas Smith, “Grant, the Man of Mystery.”

After Grant got fairly well started in his studies, the best he could say for himself is in this characteristic sentence to his father: “I don’t expect to make very fast progress, but I will try to hold on to what I get.” Here was somewhat a foreshadowing of the bulldog tenacity which afterward made him so famous.—Nicholas Smith, “Grant, the Man of Mystery.”

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SeeClinging by Faith.

Tenacity of Birth and Training—SeeAristocracy, Ingrained.

TENDENCIES, INHERITED

From earliest childhood, says his mother, Charles Hamilton (the aviator), has given unmistakable evidence of his desire to leave the earth and invade the skies. The mother—who, with perfect confidence in his ability, saw her son go aloft in an aeroplane for the first time and immediately wanted to take a trip on it with him—dates her first realization of this fact to the day when Charles, but eight years old, surreptitiously borrowed her best parasol, climbed with it tightly clutched in his hands to the eaves of the barn, and then jumped off, employing the parasol parachute-wise to break his fall.He not only broke his fall, but he completely smashed the parasol in that little escapade. But his mother did not have the heart to punish the child for his act because, as she put it, “I realized that, after all, it was only the budding desire to fly that I myself have felt since early girlhood. How could I punish my boy for doing what I always had wanted to do?”The interim between that barn-and-parasol episode of Hamilton’s achievement of his insatiable ambition—to fly—was the matter of only a few years. He managed to get a balloon man, who was giving exhibitions in a spherical gas bag just outside of New Britain, to take him up. From that moment his fever to invade the sky knew no bounds, and, as he himself put it only a few days ago, never is he happier than when up in his aeroplane doing the now-famous Hamilton dip.After a lapse of several years, during which he left his beloved machinery and aerial paraphernalia long enough to get in some schooling, Hamilton turned his attention to ballooning on his own account. Then kites of all fashions, shapes and sizes took up his attention. The dirigible balloon coming in, he turned to that, and for four years gave exhibitions that startled the world by their daring and success. Then he returned to the kite end of the game, working with Israel Ludlow along those lines of aviation. Finally he made his first aeroplane ascension, and since then he has done almost everything possible to do with a heavier-than-air machine of the present-day type.

From earliest childhood, says his mother, Charles Hamilton (the aviator), has given unmistakable evidence of his desire to leave the earth and invade the skies. The mother—who, with perfect confidence in his ability, saw her son go aloft in an aeroplane for the first time and immediately wanted to take a trip on it with him—dates her first realization of this fact to the day when Charles, but eight years old, surreptitiously borrowed her best parasol, climbed with it tightly clutched in his hands to the eaves of the barn, and then jumped off, employing the parasol parachute-wise to break his fall.

He not only broke his fall, but he completely smashed the parasol in that little escapade. But his mother did not have the heart to punish the child for his act because, as she put it, “I realized that, after all, it was only the budding desire to fly that I myself have felt since early girlhood. How could I punish my boy for doing what I always had wanted to do?”

The interim between that barn-and-parasol episode of Hamilton’s achievement of his insatiable ambition—to fly—was the matter of only a few years. He managed to get a balloon man, who was giving exhibitions in a spherical gas bag just outside of New Britain, to take him up. From that moment his fever to invade the sky knew no bounds, and, as he himself put it only a few days ago, never is he happier than when up in his aeroplane doing the now-famous Hamilton dip.

After a lapse of several years, during which he left his beloved machinery and aerial paraphernalia long enough to get in some schooling, Hamilton turned his attention to ballooning on his own account. Then kites of all fashions, shapes and sizes took up his attention. The dirigible balloon coming in, he turned to that, and for four years gave exhibitions that startled the world by their daring and success. Then he returned to the kite end of the game, working with Israel Ludlow along those lines of aviation. Finally he made his first aeroplane ascension, and since then he has done almost everything possible to do with a heavier-than-air machine of the present-day type.

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TENDENCY

One ship drives east and another westWith the self-same winds that blow.’Tis the set of the sails and not the galesWhich tell us the way to go.Like the winds of the sea are the waves of fate,As we voyage along through life.’Tis the set of the soul which decides the goal,And not the calm, nor the strife.

One ship drives east and another westWith the self-same winds that blow.’Tis the set of the sails and not the galesWhich tell us the way to go.Like the winds of the sea are the waves of fate,As we voyage along through life.’Tis the set of the soul which decides the goal,And not the calm, nor the strife.

One ship drives east and another westWith the self-same winds that blow.’Tis the set of the sails and not the galesWhich tell us the way to go.Like the winds of the sea are the waves of fate,As we voyage along through life.’Tis the set of the soul which decides the goal,And not the calm, nor the strife.

One ship drives east and another west

With the self-same winds that blow.

’Tis the set of the sails and not the gales

Which tell us the way to go.

Like the winds of the sea are the waves of fate,

As we voyage along through life.

’Tis the set of the soul which decides the goal,

And not the calm, nor the strife.

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TENDERNESS

“The tenderest are the bravest; the loving are the daring.” This finds its illustration in an incident related by the wife of Gen. George E. Pickett, of the Confederate army, just after his famous Gettysburg charge:

One Sunday, just after the battle, when he was in Richmond recruiting his division, we were walking to church together, when we saw a little Hebrew child, standing first on one foot and then on the other, rubbing his eyes with very dirty hands, and crying as if his heart would break.“What is the matter, little man?” my Soldier asked.“My shoes is hurtin’ my feet so, I can’t walk! I can’t get anywhere!” the boy sobbed. General Pickett knelt down, unlaced the shoes, took them off, tied them together, wiped away the muddy tears with his own clean handkerchief, and, taking the child in his arms, carried him to his home. (Text.)

One Sunday, just after the battle, when he was in Richmond recruiting his division, we were walking to church together, when we saw a little Hebrew child, standing first on one foot and then on the other, rubbing his eyes with very dirty hands, and crying as if his heart would break.

“What is the matter, little man?” my Soldier asked.

“My shoes is hurtin’ my feet so, I can’t walk! I can’t get anywhere!” the boy sobbed. General Pickett knelt down, unlaced the shoes, took them off, tied them together, wiped away the muddy tears with his own clean handkerchief, and, taking the child in his arms, carried him to his home. (Text.)

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Tenderness, Contrasted—SeeDestiny.

TENDERNESS OF GOD

I have seen bullets made out of cold lead, crusht into shape in the steel grip of a machine; and I have heard that gold and silver, tho cold, are stamped into money by a powerful steel die; but when God would mold a man to His will He warms the wax before He presses His seal upon it.—Franklin Noble, “Sermons in Illustration.”

I have seen bullets made out of cold lead, crusht into shape in the steel grip of a machine; and I have heard that gold and silver, tho cold, are stamped into money by a powerful steel die; but when God would mold a man to His will He warms the wax before He presses His seal upon it.—Franklin Noble, “Sermons in Illustration.”

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TENSION, MORAL

The German marshal, von Manteuffel, in a speech made in Alsace-Lorraine, said:

War! Yes, gentlemen, I am a soldier. War is the element of the soldier, and I should like to taste it. That elevated sentiment of commanding in battle, of knowing that the bullet of the enemy may call you any moment before God’s tribunal, of knowing that the fate of the battle, and consequently the destiny of your country, may depend on the orders which you give—this tension of mind and of feelings is divinely great. (Text.)

War! Yes, gentlemen, I am a soldier. War is the element of the soldier, and I should like to taste it. That elevated sentiment of commanding in battle, of knowing that the bullet of the enemy may call you any moment before God’s tribunal, of knowing that the fate of the battle, and consequently the destiny of your country, may depend on the orders which you give—this tension of mind and of feelings is divinely great. (Text.)

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Terminology, Christian—SeeGod First.

Terminology, Fear of—SeeMoods of the Spirit.

Terror—SeeFright.

Test of Character—SeeBusiness a Test of Character.

TESTIMONY, A SHEEP’S

One of the occupations in Australia is sheep-raising. There are large ranches upon which many sheep and lambs find food, and the shepherds guard their own.One day a man was arrested for stealing a sheep. The man claimed that the sheep was his own, that it had been missing from his flock for some days, but as soon as he saw the animal he knew him.The other man claimed the sheep, and said he had owned him since he was a lamb, and that he had never been away from the flock.The judge was puzzled how to decide the matter. At last he sent for the sheep. He first took the man in whose possession the sheep was found to the courtyard, and told him to call the sheep.The animal made no response, only to raise his head and look frightened, as if in a strange place and among strangers.Bidding the officers take the man back to the court-room, he told them to bring down the defendant. The accused man did not wait until he entered the yard, but at the gate, and where the sheep could not see him, he began a peculiar call. At once the sheep bounded toward the gate, and by his actions showed that a familiar voice was calling.“His own knows him,” said the judge. (Text.)

One of the occupations in Australia is sheep-raising. There are large ranches upon which many sheep and lambs find food, and the shepherds guard their own.

One day a man was arrested for stealing a sheep. The man claimed that the sheep was his own, that it had been missing from his flock for some days, but as soon as he saw the animal he knew him.

The other man claimed the sheep, and said he had owned him since he was a lamb, and that he had never been away from the flock.

The judge was puzzled how to decide the matter. At last he sent for the sheep. He first took the man in whose possession the sheep was found to the courtyard, and told him to call the sheep.

The animal made no response, only to raise his head and look frightened, as if in a strange place and among strangers.

Bidding the officers take the man back to the court-room, he told them to bring down the defendant. The accused man did not wait until he entered the yard, but at the gate, and where the sheep could not see him, he began a peculiar call. At once the sheep bounded toward the gate, and by his actions showed that a familiar voice was calling.

“His own knows him,” said the judge. (Text.)

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TESTIMONY, FRUIT OF

James Henry Potts, D.D., in his book, “The Upward Leading,” relates this incident:

An obscure Highland boy, whose parents had taught him to revere God, became a marine on board a British man-of-war. When a battle raged and the deck was swept by a tremendous broadside from the enemy, the captain, James Haldane, a profane man, ordered another company on deck to take the place of the dead. At sight of the mangled remains of their comrades, the marines became panic-stricken and ungovernable. The captain raved at them, condemning them all to the tortures of hell.Up stept the Highlander, and touching his hat, says, “Captain, I believe God hears prayer; if He hears yours, what will become of us?” When the battle was over, Captain Haldane reflected on the words of the brave marine, became interested in the claims of religion, surrendered his heart to God, became a preacher of the gospel and pastor of a church in Edinburgh.Through his instrumentality his brother, Robert Haldane, was brought to reflection, became a decided Christian, settled in Geneva, stirred up Protestantism there, and became the means of leading a large number of theological students in the light, among the number being J. H. Merle D’Aubigne, author of the immortal “History of the Reformation,” and the father of the Rev. Dr. D’Aubigne, whose visit to the United States served to create new interest in the evangelical religion of France.

An obscure Highland boy, whose parents had taught him to revere God, became a marine on board a British man-of-war. When a battle raged and the deck was swept by a tremendous broadside from the enemy, the captain, James Haldane, a profane man, ordered another company on deck to take the place of the dead. At sight of the mangled remains of their comrades, the marines became panic-stricken and ungovernable. The captain raved at them, condemning them all to the tortures of hell.

Up stept the Highlander, and touching his hat, says, “Captain, I believe God hears prayer; if He hears yours, what will become of us?” When the battle was over, Captain Haldane reflected on the words of the brave marine, became interested in the claims of religion, surrendered his heart to God, became a preacher of the gospel and pastor of a church in Edinburgh.

Through his instrumentality his brother, Robert Haldane, was brought to reflection, became a decided Christian, settled in Geneva, stirred up Protestantism there, and became the means of leading a large number of theological students in the light, among the number being J. H. Merle D’Aubigne, author of the immortal “History of the Reformation,” and the father of the Rev. Dr. D’Aubigne, whose visit to the United States served to create new interest in the evangelical religion of France.

Dr. Potts might have added that out of that Bible class of Haldane, at Geneva came every conspicuous evangelical leader of France in the latter part of the century.

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TESTIMONY INDISPUTABLE

Elder Chang, a Christian from the Scotch Presbyterian Mission in Manchuria, recently visited Pyeng Yang, Korea, and gives the following report of what he learned:

Being strangers, we naturally looked up some Chinese merchants, who, however, were not Christians. “Who are you?” they asked us. “Christians from Manchuria.” “Are there, then, Christians in Manchuria also?” asked the Chinese. “Oh, yes, many of them.” “Are they the same sort as the Christians here?” “We don’t know. What are the Christians here like?” “Good men. Good men.” “Why do you think so?” asked the Korean elder. “Oh, a man owed us an account five years ago of twenty dollars. He refused to acknowledge more than ten, and we had no redress. A few months ago he became a Christian and came and asked us to turn up that old account, and insisted on paying it up with interest for all these years.” Instances like this are happening all over Korea.—Missionary Review of the World.

Being strangers, we naturally looked up some Chinese merchants, who, however, were not Christians. “Who are you?” they asked us. “Christians from Manchuria.” “Are there, then, Christians in Manchuria also?” asked the Chinese. “Oh, yes, many of them.” “Are they the same sort as the Christians here?” “We don’t know. What are the Christians here like?” “Good men. Good men.” “Why do you think so?” asked the Korean elder. “Oh, a man owed us an account five years ago of twenty dollars. He refused to acknowledge more than ten, and we had no redress. A few months ago he became a Christian and came and asked us to turn up that old account, and insisted on paying it up with interest for all these years.” Instances like this are happening all over Korea.—Missionary Review of the World.

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TESTIMONY OF NATURE

It is by carefully noting small and apparently insignificant things and facts that men of science are enabled to reach some of their most surprizing and interesting conclusions. In many places the surface of rocks, which millions of years ago must have formed sandy or muddy sea beaches, is found to be pitted with the impressions of rain-drops. In England it has been noticed that in many cases the eastern sides of these depressions are the more deeply pitted, indicating that the rain-drops which formed them were driven before a west wind. From this the conclusion is drawn that in the remote epoch when the pits were formed the majority of the storms in England came from the west, just as they do to-day.—Harper’s Weekly.

It is by carefully noting small and apparently insignificant things and facts that men of science are enabled to reach some of their most surprizing and interesting conclusions. In many places the surface of rocks, which millions of years ago must have formed sandy or muddy sea beaches, is found to be pitted with the impressions of rain-drops. In England it has been noticed that in many cases the eastern sides of these depressions are the more deeply pitted, indicating that the rain-drops which formed them were driven before a west wind. From this the conclusion is drawn that in the remote epoch when the pits were formed the majority of the storms in England came from the west, just as they do to-day.—Harper’s Weekly.

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Testimony of Service—SeeWitness of Service.

TESTIMONY OF WORK

A story is told of a poor woman who, by reason of her poverty, was kept from many a service for her Lord which she feared He might require at her hands—and she was dying. She was saying to her young daughter, who stood near the bed, that she regretted her fruitless life, and was wishing that she might have more to show the Master when she met Him face to face. “Mother,” sobbed the daughter, “show Him your fingers.” Her hands were calloused with work she had done unselfishly for others in her Master’s name. (Text.)

A story is told of a poor woman who, by reason of her poverty, was kept from many a service for her Lord which she feared He might require at her hands—and she was dying. She was saying to her young daughter, who stood near the bed, that she regretted her fruitless life, and was wishing that she might have more to show the Master when she met Him face to face. “Mother,” sobbed the daughter, “show Him your fingers.” Her hands were calloused with work she had done unselfishly for others in her Master’s name. (Text.)

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Testing—SeePermanent, The;Trial a Means of Grace.

TESTS

An English writer says:

About fifty years ago two eminent French chemists visited London, and rather “astonished the natives” by a curious feature of their dress. They wore on their hats large patches of colored paper. It was litmus paper, and their object in attaching it to their hats was to test the impurities of the London atmosphere. Blue litmus paper, as everybody knows nowadays, turns red when exposed to an acid. The French chemists found that their hat decorations changed color, and indicated the presence of acid in the air of London; but when they left the metropolis and wandered in the open fields their blue litmus paper retained its original color. By using alkaline paper they contrived to collect enough of the acid to test its composition. They found it to be the acid which is formed by the burning of sulfur, and attributed its existence to the sulfur of our coal.

About fifty years ago two eminent French chemists visited London, and rather “astonished the natives” by a curious feature of their dress. They wore on their hats large patches of colored paper. It was litmus paper, and their object in attaching it to their hats was to test the impurities of the London atmosphere. Blue litmus paper, as everybody knows nowadays, turns red when exposed to an acid. The French chemists found that their hat decorations changed color, and indicated the presence of acid in the air of London; but when they left the metropolis and wandered in the open fields their blue litmus paper retained its original color. By using alkaline paper they contrived to collect enough of the acid to test its composition. They found it to be the acid which is formed by the burning of sulfur, and attributed its existence to the sulfur of our coal.

It would be well if we all had some kind of moral “litmus paper” with which to test our moral atmosphere. Is not God’s spirit in us such a testing instrument? (Text.)

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Oriental cloth merchants call in the sun as an expert witness in determining the quality of the finer products of the loom. Servants of the seller pass the web slowly between the purchaser and the sun. If no blemish is revealed by the flood of light which this incorruptible witness pours through warp and woof, the piece is passed and paid for asperfect. Every language used by these dealers has its word meaning, “judged by the sun.” Greek merchants, in New Testament times, advertised “sun-judged” cloth in all the market-places. (Text.)

Oriental cloth merchants call in the sun as an expert witness in determining the quality of the finer products of the loom. Servants of the seller pass the web slowly between the purchaser and the sun. If no blemish is revealed by the flood of light which this incorruptible witness pours through warp and woof, the piece is passed and paid for asperfect. Every language used by these dealers has its word meaning, “judged by the sun.” Greek merchants, in New Testament times, advertised “sun-judged” cloth in all the market-places. (Text.)

Paul uses this practise as a figure of speech in Phil. 1:10. To be “sincere and without offense,” means to be able to pass severe tests like the sun test.

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The Chautauquangives an account of Greek coins from which is taken the following extract:

In spite of the guarantee that might be afforded by the mark of a state or a prince, we find the Greeks applying certain tests to determine the genuineness of the currency offered to them. Plating was easily detected by jabbing the suspected coin with some sharp instrument. At other times the touch-stone was used. One which was known as the “Lydian stone” was supposed to reveal a proportion of foreign metal as small as a barley corn in a stater. Another test, in the case of silver, was to polish the coin, and then breathe on it. If the moisture quickly disappeared the metal was pure. Yet another way to detect alloy was to heat the coin, or coins, on red-hot iron. If the metal was unalloyed it remained bright; if mixt with other substances, it turned black or red according as it was more or less impure. (Text.)

In spite of the guarantee that might be afforded by the mark of a state or a prince, we find the Greeks applying certain tests to determine the genuineness of the currency offered to them. Plating was easily detected by jabbing the suspected coin with some sharp instrument. At other times the touch-stone was used. One which was known as the “Lydian stone” was supposed to reveal a proportion of foreign metal as small as a barley corn in a stater. Another test, in the case of silver, was to polish the coin, and then breathe on it. If the moisture quickly disappeared the metal was pure. Yet another way to detect alloy was to heat the coin, or coins, on red-hot iron. If the metal was unalloyed it remained bright; if mixt with other substances, it turned black or red according as it was more or less impure. (Text.)

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SeeIdeas, Power of.

TESTS OF FITNESS

When the Rodah Bridge at Cairo was practically finished as far as the structural work itself was concerned, it was put to an official test. The testing was minute, complex and severe in character. Dead weights of sand and steel rails were piled up on each pier in succession, exerting a pressure of 1,000 tons. Subsequently live weights of steam-rollers, tramcars, loaded with sand and water-carts filled with water were run on the bridge while an immense pressure was brought to bear on the bridge. If no fault or strain was visible in the material, then it was ready for use.

When the Rodah Bridge at Cairo was practically finished as far as the structural work itself was concerned, it was put to an official test. The testing was minute, complex and severe in character. Dead weights of sand and steel rails were piled up on each pier in succession, exerting a pressure of 1,000 tons. Subsequently live weights of steam-rollers, tramcars, loaded with sand and water-carts filled with water were run on the bridge while an immense pressure was brought to bear on the bridge. If no fault or strain was visible in the material, then it was ready for use.

Happy is the man who will cheerfully bear every burden he is called upon to bear, knowing that he is being made ready for usefulness.

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TESTS, PERSONAL

General Nelson A. Miles, when head of the army, used to be continually besieged by cranks with pneumatic rapid-firing guns, dirigible war balloons, and other martial inventions. But the general would weed these cranks out with admirable speed. An inventor, quoted in the New YorkIndependent, says:“I sat in his office with him one day when a servant brought in a card. ‘Oh, send him in,’ said General Miles. ‘His business won’t take more than a minute or two.’ So in came a wild-eyed, long-haired man, twisting his soft hat nervously in both hands. ‘General,’ he said, ‘I have here’—and he took out a small parcel—‘a bullet-proof army coat. If the Government would adopt this—’ ‘Put it on. Put it on,’ said General Miles, and he rang the bell. The servant appeared as the inventor was getting into the coat. ‘Jones,’ said the general, ‘tell the captain of the guard to order one of his men to load his rifle with ball and cartridge and—’ ‘Excuse me, general, I forgot something,’ interrupted the inventor, and with a hunted look he disappeared.”

General Nelson A. Miles, when head of the army, used to be continually besieged by cranks with pneumatic rapid-firing guns, dirigible war balloons, and other martial inventions. But the general would weed these cranks out with admirable speed. An inventor, quoted in the New YorkIndependent, says:

“I sat in his office with him one day when a servant brought in a card. ‘Oh, send him in,’ said General Miles. ‘His business won’t take more than a minute or two.’ So in came a wild-eyed, long-haired man, twisting his soft hat nervously in both hands. ‘General,’ he said, ‘I have here’—and he took out a small parcel—‘a bullet-proof army coat. If the Government would adopt this—’ ‘Put it on. Put it on,’ said General Miles, and he rang the bell. The servant appeared as the inventor was getting into the coat. ‘Jones,’ said the general, ‘tell the captain of the guard to order one of his men to load his rifle with ball and cartridge and—’ ‘Excuse me, general, I forgot something,’ interrupted the inventor, and with a hunted look he disappeared.”

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Text Finding—SeeEarly Religion.

TEXT, POWER OF A

The effect which the Word of God sometimes has is illustrated in the following incident related of Robert Moffat, missionary in Africa:

In the large kitchen, where the service was to be held, stood a long table, at the head of which sat the Boer, with his wife and six grown children. A large Bible lay on the table, and underneath it half a dozen dogs. The Boer pointed to the Bible as the signal for Mr. Moffat to begin. But, after vainly waiting for others to come in, he asked how soon the working people were to be called. “Work-people?” impatiently cried the farmer; “you don’t mean the Hottentots—the blacks! You are not waiting for them, surely, or expecting to preach to them; you might as well preach to those dogs under that table!” A second time, and more angrily, he spoke, repeating the offensive comparison.Young as Mr. Moffat was, he was disconcerted only for a moment. Lifting his heart to God for guidance, the thought came into his mind to take a text suggested by the rude remarks of the Boer. So he opened theBible to the fifteenth of Matthew and twenty-seventh verse: “Truth, Lord; yet the dogs eat of the crumbs which fall from their master’s table.” Pausing a moment, he slowly repeated these words with his eyes steadily fixt on the face of the Boer; and again pausing, a third time recited the appropriate words. Angrily the Boer cried out, “Well, well, bring them in.” A crowd of blacks then thronged the kitchen, and Moffat preached to them all the blessed Word of God.—Pierson, “The Miracles of Missions.”

In the large kitchen, where the service was to be held, stood a long table, at the head of which sat the Boer, with his wife and six grown children. A large Bible lay on the table, and underneath it half a dozen dogs. The Boer pointed to the Bible as the signal for Mr. Moffat to begin. But, after vainly waiting for others to come in, he asked how soon the working people were to be called. “Work-people?” impatiently cried the farmer; “you don’t mean the Hottentots—the blacks! You are not waiting for them, surely, or expecting to preach to them; you might as well preach to those dogs under that table!” A second time, and more angrily, he spoke, repeating the offensive comparison.

Young as Mr. Moffat was, he was disconcerted only for a moment. Lifting his heart to God for guidance, the thought came into his mind to take a text suggested by the rude remarks of the Boer. So he opened theBible to the fifteenth of Matthew and twenty-seventh verse: “Truth, Lord; yet the dogs eat of the crumbs which fall from their master’s table.” Pausing a moment, he slowly repeated these words with his eyes steadily fixt on the face of the Boer; and again pausing, a third time recited the appropriate words. Angrily the Boer cried out, “Well, well, bring them in.” A crowd of blacks then thronged the kitchen, and Moffat preached to them all the blessed Word of God.—Pierson, “The Miracles of Missions.”

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The following incident shows how an apparently chance occurrence may bring conviction through the word of Scripture:

While in the St. Louis jail, Burke had obtained a copy of a city paper which published a sermon by Mr. Moody, then preaching in St. Louis. This paper announced the topic of Mr. Moody’s sermon in a sensational headline, “How the Jailer at Philippi was Caught.” Burke thought the reference was to the town of Philippi in Illinois, a place of which he knew; and he began to read what he supposed to be jail news. He became interested as he read on. Nine times in the sermon he came upon the text, “Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and thou shalt be saved.” It imprest him so deeply that in the cell that night for the first time Burke prayed. Soon after he believed, and was assured of salvation. The jailer thought Burke was playing the “pious dodge,” and only suspected him the more. When the case came to trial, however, he escaped conviction, and was released. For some months the ex-convict could find no one so to trust him as to give him steady work. He finally was given a position under the sheriff of the county, made the collector of the office, and until he died some time afterward, Burke never disappointed the confidence reposed in him.—H. C. Mabie, “Methods in Evangelism.”

While in the St. Louis jail, Burke had obtained a copy of a city paper which published a sermon by Mr. Moody, then preaching in St. Louis. This paper announced the topic of Mr. Moody’s sermon in a sensational headline, “How the Jailer at Philippi was Caught.” Burke thought the reference was to the town of Philippi in Illinois, a place of which he knew; and he began to read what he supposed to be jail news. He became interested as he read on. Nine times in the sermon he came upon the text, “Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and thou shalt be saved.” It imprest him so deeply that in the cell that night for the first time Burke prayed. Soon after he believed, and was assured of salvation. The jailer thought Burke was playing the “pious dodge,” and only suspected him the more. When the case came to trial, however, he escaped conviction, and was released. For some months the ex-convict could find no one so to trust him as to give him steady work. He finally was given a position under the sheriff of the county, made the collector of the office, and until he died some time afterward, Burke never disappointed the confidence reposed in him.—H. C. Mabie, “Methods in Evangelism.”

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Texts—SeeFitness.

Thankfulness—SeeUnselfishness.

THANKS

A little scene of child-life has often seemed to me to contain the most touching lesson for men. A child knows when it receives a service from any one that it should say thank you. But, often, when a child renders us a service, we forget to thank it. After having waited in vain for the little word which should be pronounced, it then itself says, “Thank you,” and goes its way. The child has a feeling that something ought to happen and does not; then he takes charge of it himself.—Charles Wagner, “The Gospel of Life.”

A little scene of child-life has often seemed to me to contain the most touching lesson for men. A child knows when it receives a service from any one that it should say thank you. But, often, when a child renders us a service, we forget to thank it. After having waited in vain for the little word which should be pronounced, it then itself says, “Thank you,” and goes its way. The child has a feeling that something ought to happen and does not; then he takes charge of it himself.—Charles Wagner, “The Gospel of Life.”

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THANKS, THE SOLACE OF

Even “hello girls” are tired sometimes, tho we think of them as part of the electrical apparatus. To-day Central was tired, her head ached, she had just succeeded, after repeated calls, in getting the number wanted by 349-M, and here they were, calling her up again! “Can’t that woman be quiet a minute?” soliloquized Central while she reiterated, “Number, please?” trying not to speak crossly. “Central,” said a pleasant voice, “I want to thank you for taking so much trouble to get me that last number. You are always very kind and obliging, and I do appreciate it.” The surprize was so great, so overwhelming, that Central could only murmur confusedly, “I—oh—yes, ma’am.” Nothing like this had ever happened before. Suddenly her headache was better, suddenly the day was brighter, suddenly, too, there came a lump in her throat, and she reached for her handkerchief. It was so good to be thanked. (Text.)

Even “hello girls” are tired sometimes, tho we think of them as part of the electrical apparatus. To-day Central was tired, her head ached, she had just succeeded, after repeated calls, in getting the number wanted by 349-M, and here they were, calling her up again! “Can’t that woman be quiet a minute?” soliloquized Central while she reiterated, “Number, please?” trying not to speak crossly. “Central,” said a pleasant voice, “I want to thank you for taking so much trouble to get me that last number. You are always very kind and obliging, and I do appreciate it.” The surprize was so great, so overwhelming, that Central could only murmur confusedly, “I—oh—yes, ma’am.” Nothing like this had ever happened before. Suddenly her headache was better, suddenly the day was brighter, suddenly, too, there came a lump in her throat, and she reached for her handkerchief. It was so good to be thanked. (Text.)

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THANKSGIVING

I thank Thee that I learnNot toil to spurn;With all beneath the sunIt makes me one;For tears, whereby I gainKinship with human pain;For Love, my comrade by the dusty ways,I give Thee praise.—Emily Read Jones.

I thank Thee that I learnNot toil to spurn;With all beneath the sunIt makes me one;For tears, whereby I gainKinship with human pain;For Love, my comrade by the dusty ways,I give Thee praise.—Emily Read Jones.

I thank Thee that I learnNot toil to spurn;With all beneath the sunIt makes me one;For tears, whereby I gainKinship with human pain;For Love, my comrade by the dusty ways,I give Thee praise.—Emily Read Jones.

I thank Thee that I learn

Not toil to spurn;

With all beneath the sun

It makes me one;

For tears, whereby I gain

Kinship with human pain;

For Love, my comrade by the dusty ways,

I give Thee praise.

—Emily Read Jones.

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THANKSGIVING DAY

Robert Bridges is the author of these verses:

We give Thee thanks, O Lord!Not for armed legions, marching in their might,Not for the glory of the well-earned fightWhere brave men slay their brothers also brave;But for the millions of Thy sons who work—And do Thy task with joy—and never shirk,And deem the idle man a burdened slave;For these, O Lord, our thanks!We give Thee thanks, O Lord!Not for the palaces that wealth has grown,Where ease is worshiped—duty dimly known,And Pleasure leads her dance the flowery way;But for the quiet homes where love is queenAnd life is more than baubles, touched and seen,And old folks bless us, and dear children play;For these, O Lord, our thanks!

We give Thee thanks, O Lord!Not for armed legions, marching in their might,Not for the glory of the well-earned fightWhere brave men slay their brothers also brave;But for the millions of Thy sons who work—And do Thy task with joy—and never shirk,And deem the idle man a burdened slave;For these, O Lord, our thanks!We give Thee thanks, O Lord!Not for the palaces that wealth has grown,Where ease is worshiped—duty dimly known,And Pleasure leads her dance the flowery way;But for the quiet homes where love is queenAnd life is more than baubles, touched and seen,And old folks bless us, and dear children play;For these, O Lord, our thanks!

We give Thee thanks, O Lord!Not for armed legions, marching in their might,Not for the glory of the well-earned fightWhere brave men slay their brothers also brave;But for the millions of Thy sons who work—And do Thy task with joy—and never shirk,And deem the idle man a burdened slave;For these, O Lord, our thanks!

We give Thee thanks, O Lord!

Not for armed legions, marching in their might,

Not for the glory of the well-earned fight

Where brave men slay their brothers also brave;

But for the millions of Thy sons who work—

And do Thy task with joy—and never shirk,

And deem the idle man a burdened slave;

For these, O Lord, our thanks!

We give Thee thanks, O Lord!Not for the palaces that wealth has grown,Where ease is worshiped—duty dimly known,And Pleasure leads her dance the flowery way;But for the quiet homes where love is queenAnd life is more than baubles, touched and seen,And old folks bless us, and dear children play;For these, O Lord, our thanks!

We give Thee thanks, O Lord!

Not for the palaces that wealth has grown,

Where ease is worshiped—duty dimly known,

And Pleasure leads her dance the flowery way;

But for the quiet homes where love is queen

And life is more than baubles, touched and seen,

And old folks bless us, and dear children play;

For these, O Lord, our thanks!

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THEFT, A CHECK ON

Persons who have been laying in their supply of coal for the winter months may have noticed that many of the lumps were coated with whitewash, and they doubtless wondered what was the reason for the unique decoration. Altho the white color may be considered to have improved the appearance of the ordinary black coal, that was not the object in view.For many years the railroads have been annoyed by coal thieves and thousands of tons of fuel were stolen annually. As the great carloads, containing forty tons each, are being carried from the mines, it is very easy for unscrupulous persons to remove a ton or two from a car without causing any noticeable change in the appearance of the load. Only when the car is again put on the scales is the loss detected, and then it is too late to trace the guilty parties.To check these depredations the railroad men have adopted the whitewash method of safeguarding their freight. After a car has been loaded a solution of lime and water is sprayed over the coal, and when the water has evaporated a white coating of lime remains on the top layer of lumps. Then, if any of the coal is removed, a black patch will be left upon the white surface to attract the attention of inspectors and station agents before the train has gone many miles from the scene of the theft, and thus the offender is easily traced.—Harper’s Weekly.

Persons who have been laying in their supply of coal for the winter months may have noticed that many of the lumps were coated with whitewash, and they doubtless wondered what was the reason for the unique decoration. Altho the white color may be considered to have improved the appearance of the ordinary black coal, that was not the object in view.

For many years the railroads have been annoyed by coal thieves and thousands of tons of fuel were stolen annually. As the great carloads, containing forty tons each, are being carried from the mines, it is very easy for unscrupulous persons to remove a ton or two from a car without causing any noticeable change in the appearance of the load. Only when the car is again put on the scales is the loss detected, and then it is too late to trace the guilty parties.

To check these depredations the railroad men have adopted the whitewash method of safeguarding their freight. After a car has been loaded a solution of lime and water is sprayed over the coal, and when the water has evaporated a white coating of lime remains on the top layer of lumps. Then, if any of the coal is removed, a black patch will be left upon the white surface to attract the attention of inspectors and station agents before the train has gone many miles from the scene of the theft, and thus the offender is easily traced.—Harper’s Weekly.

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THEFTS ALL EQUAL

I saw some men playing “banker and broker.” They had some filthy-looking cards, and some paltry pennies. They were a good-natured lot of fellows, and the game looked very simple. But I tell you that the great gamblers against whom the laws are made began their wrong-doing in just that way. And the playing for little stakes is worse. If a man takes from me a large sum of money and gives me nothing in return, I can make some excuse for him, because the temptation was great. But if a man takes from me a paltry dime, that is wanton. And the man who stole a million and the clerk who stole a quarter, and the shoe-shiner who stole a nickel and the man who stole a ride, and the woman who used a postage-stamp the second time are all thieves alike.—A. H. C. Morse.

I saw some men playing “banker and broker.” They had some filthy-looking cards, and some paltry pennies. They were a good-natured lot of fellows, and the game looked very simple. But I tell you that the great gamblers against whom the laws are made began their wrong-doing in just that way. And the playing for little stakes is worse. If a man takes from me a large sum of money and gives me nothing in return, I can make some excuse for him, because the temptation was great. But if a man takes from me a paltry dime, that is wanton. And the man who stole a million and the clerk who stole a quarter, and the shoe-shiner who stole a nickel and the man who stole a ride, and the woman who used a postage-stamp the second time are all thieves alike.—A. H. C. Morse.

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Theism—SeeReligious Instruction Denied.

THEOLOGY AS A DISCIPLINE

Men that work by doctrines are men that think they have found out the universe; they have not only got it, but they have formulated it; they know all about the Infinite, they have sailed around eternity, they know all about the Eternal and the Everlasting God, and you will hear them discuss questions of theology: “No, God could not, consistent with consistency, do so-and-so.” They know all His difficulties; they know how He got round them. One might easily come to think that God was their next-door neighbor. Well, after all, whether it is true or false—their systematic views, their dogmas—the pedagogic views are very important to teach young and middle-aged and old to attempt, by philosophic reasoning, to reach into these unfathomable depths. They produce a power upon the brain of most transcendent importance; they, in their way, may not increase the sum of human knowledge, but they increase the capacity of the human brain for profound thought and investigation. (Text.)—Henry Ward Beecher.

Men that work by doctrines are men that think they have found out the universe; they have not only got it, but they have formulated it; they know all about the Infinite, they have sailed around eternity, they know all about the Eternal and the Everlasting God, and you will hear them discuss questions of theology: “No, God could not, consistent with consistency, do so-and-so.” They know all His difficulties; they know how He got round them. One might easily come to think that God was their next-door neighbor. Well, after all, whether it is true or false—their systematic views, their dogmas—the pedagogic views are very important to teach young and middle-aged and old to attempt, by philosophic reasoning, to reach into these unfathomable depths. They produce a power upon the brain of most transcendent importance; they, in their way, may not increase the sum of human knowledge, but they increase the capacity of the human brain for profound thought and investigation. (Text.)—Henry Ward Beecher.

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THEOLOGY, SCHEMES OF

When Kossuth visited America in 1851, he worked out here, with American statesmen, a constitution for Hungary, and had plates engraved for the printing of treasury notes, and a system of money. When Kossuth went down to the steamer to sail home, he had an ideal and new republic of Hungary, and oh, wonder of wonders! he carried it in a handbag! Just as I have seen theological professors carry what they thought was a whole church, in a book of notes under the arm. Unfortunately, Kossuth never produced the written constitution in the character of twenty millions. And unfortunately, many teachers, wise in their polity, and sound in their theology, think like God and act like the devil.—N. D. Hillis.

When Kossuth visited America in 1851, he worked out here, with American statesmen, a constitution for Hungary, and had plates engraved for the printing of treasury notes, and a system of money. When Kossuth went down to the steamer to sail home, he had an ideal and new republic of Hungary, and oh, wonder of wonders! he carried it in a handbag! Just as I have seen theological professors carry what they thought was a whole church, in a book of notes under the arm. Unfortunately, Kossuth never produced the written constitution in the character of twenty millions. And unfortunately, many teachers, wise in their polity, and sound in their theology, think like God and act like the devil.—N. D. Hillis.

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THEOLOGY SHAPED BY EXPERIENCE

The influence on John Wesley’s theology of an escape as a child from a burning dwelling is thus described by Rev. W. H. Fitchett:

His theology translated itself into the terms of that night scene. The burning house was the symbol of a perishing world. Each human soul, in Wesley’s thought, was represented by that fire-girt child, with the flames of sin, and of that divine and eternal anger which unrepenting sin kindles, closing round it. He who had been plucked from the burning house at midnight must pluck men from the flames of a more dreadful fire. That remembered peril colored Wesley’s imagination to his dying day.—“Wesley and His Century.”

His theology translated itself into the terms of that night scene. The burning house was the symbol of a perishing world. Each human soul, in Wesley’s thought, was represented by that fire-girt child, with the flames of sin, and of that divine and eternal anger which unrepenting sin kindles, closing round it. He who had been plucked from the burning house at midnight must pluck men from the flames of a more dreadful fire. That remembered peril colored Wesley’s imagination to his dying day.—“Wesley and His Century.”

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Theory, Erroneous—SeeVitality Low.

THEORY VERSUS PRACTISE

A fellow has the cramp-colic and is tied up in a double bow-knot. By and by an old, dignified doctor comes in with a can of mustard in one hand, and a dissertation on mustard in the other. He walks up to the bed, and says, “My friend, be quiet about an hour and a half, and let me read you a dissertation on mustard; this mustard grew in the State of Connecticut; it was planted about the first of June and cultivated like potatoes, and vegetables of a like character.”About that time another paroxysm hit the fellow, and he said, “Good Lord, doctor; I don’t care how it grew or where; spread some on a rag and put it on me.”—“Popular Lectures of Sam P. Jones.”

A fellow has the cramp-colic and is tied up in a double bow-knot. By and by an old, dignified doctor comes in with a can of mustard in one hand, and a dissertation on mustard in the other. He walks up to the bed, and says, “My friend, be quiet about an hour and a half, and let me read you a dissertation on mustard; this mustard grew in the State of Connecticut; it was planted about the first of June and cultivated like potatoes, and vegetables of a like character.”

About that time another paroxysm hit the fellow, and he said, “Good Lord, doctor; I don’t care how it grew or where; spread some on a rag and put it on me.”—“Popular Lectures of Sam P. Jones.”

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SeeKnowing and Doing.

THINGS

Among the causes of worry let us mention an over-emphasis of things, an undue estimate of wealth, equipage and luxury. When men are once bitten with the desire for abundance, worry inevitably follows. It is a truism that the most beautiful things are the simplest things. Witness a Doric column. One substance, marble, and a fluted line, giving form—no more. But, oh, how beautiful! The lily has two colors, white with a tiny stamen of gold, and then for contrast a black mud-puddle in which it grows. The two lovers have their happiest days in the little cottage, with a tiny vine over the front window, three or four great authors, one big chair before the open fire, two or three old familiar songs, a few friends—heaven lies round about this little house. Twenty years pass by. The man and woman are bitten now with the love of many things. Forgetting the few books that once he digested, the man buys 5,000 volumes—many people are under the delusion that they have read a book because they have bought it. Now also the man and woman buy twenty or thirty chairs, and one sits in one chair in one room, and the other in another chair in another room. There used to be one chair. They begin to collect things for things’ sake; curios and clothes and rare editions, until the house becomes a museum, and the palace is as cold as a storage-plant, where love chilled to death twenty years ago. And the man and woman are mere care-takers of the things they have collected, mere drudges, hirelings; in fact, this man and his wife are the only servants in the house that work for nothing.—N. D. Hillis.

Among the causes of worry let us mention an over-emphasis of things, an undue estimate of wealth, equipage and luxury. When men are once bitten with the desire for abundance, worry inevitably follows. It is a truism that the most beautiful things are the simplest things. Witness a Doric column. One substance, marble, and a fluted line, giving form—no more. But, oh, how beautiful! The lily has two colors, white with a tiny stamen of gold, and then for contrast a black mud-puddle in which it grows. The two lovers have their happiest days in the little cottage, with a tiny vine over the front window, three or four great authors, one big chair before the open fire, two or three old familiar songs, a few friends—heaven lies round about this little house. Twenty years pass by. The man and woman are bitten now with the love of many things. Forgetting the few books that once he digested, the man buys 5,000 volumes—many people are under the delusion that they have read a book because they have bought it. Now also the man and woman buy twenty or thirty chairs, and one sits in one chair in one room, and the other in another chair in another room. There used to be one chair. They begin to collect things for things’ sake; curios and clothes and rare editions, until the house becomes a museum, and the palace is as cold as a storage-plant, where love chilled to death twenty years ago. And the man and woman are mere care-takers of the things they have collected, mere drudges, hirelings; in fact, this man and his wife are the only servants in the house that work for nothing.—N. D. Hillis.

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THINGS, NOT BOOKS

The tragedy of the race was when men, who had lived next to things, began to fancy that if all that men knew could be gathered into contrivances called books, and the children shut in a building with these books, they could learn all about the world on which gravity chains us, without the trouble of ever looking at the things themselves.When I was a little boy I was once studying in geography the animals of the Rocky Mountains. Just then a boy rushed in breathless, and said that there were “four men outside with three big bears.” The teacher shut the door and cracked me on the head for looking out over the high window-sill. And yet these men had brought to our door the very real things concerning which we were studying. But school was about book bears, not real bears.Once in the University of Cincinnati I saw a young woman assiduously studying an oyster. Perplexed, she looked up and asked the professor a question about the thing which she was studying. The professor walked to her table, looked carefully at the oyster, and answered her. Why didn’t she ask the oyster? Even the professor had to do so. The oyster was the court of last resort, and it was in session before her; but the old view-point had so walled in her vision that she could not even see the decision before her eyes.To read things out of books requires aformer experience of things. Let us go back to things.—William I. Crane, “Journal of the National Education Association,” 1905.

The tragedy of the race was when men, who had lived next to things, began to fancy that if all that men knew could be gathered into contrivances called books, and the children shut in a building with these books, they could learn all about the world on which gravity chains us, without the trouble of ever looking at the things themselves.

When I was a little boy I was once studying in geography the animals of the Rocky Mountains. Just then a boy rushed in breathless, and said that there were “four men outside with three big bears.” The teacher shut the door and cracked me on the head for looking out over the high window-sill. And yet these men had brought to our door the very real things concerning which we were studying. But school was about book bears, not real bears.

Once in the University of Cincinnati I saw a young woman assiduously studying an oyster. Perplexed, she looked up and asked the professor a question about the thing which she was studying. The professor walked to her table, looked carefully at the oyster, and answered her. Why didn’t she ask the oyster? Even the professor had to do so. The oyster was the court of last resort, and it was in session before her; but the old view-point had so walled in her vision that she could not even see the decision before her eyes.

To read things out of books requires aformer experience of things. Let us go back to things.—William I. Crane, “Journal of the National Education Association,” 1905.

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Things versus Men—SeeForgiveness.

Thinkers—SeeCharacter.

THINKING DEFINED

Thinking is specific, not a machine-like, ready-made apparatus to be turned indifferently and at will upon all subjects, as a lantern may throw its light as it happens upon horses, streets, gardens, trees or river. Thinking is specific in that different things suggest their own appropriate meanings, tell their own unique stories and in that they do this in very different ways with different persons. As the growth of the body is through the assimilation of food, so the growth of mind is through the logical organization of subject-matter. Thinking is not like a sausage machine which reduces all materials indifferently to one marketable commodity, but is a power of following up and linking together the specific suggestions that specific things arouse. Accordingly, any subject, from Greek to cooking, and from drawing to mathematics, is intellectual, if intellectual at all, not in its fixt inner structure, but in its function—in its power to start and direct significant inquiry and reflection.—John Dewey, “How we Think.”

Thinking is specific, not a machine-like, ready-made apparatus to be turned indifferently and at will upon all subjects, as a lantern may throw its light as it happens upon horses, streets, gardens, trees or river. Thinking is specific in that different things suggest their own appropriate meanings, tell their own unique stories and in that they do this in very different ways with different persons. As the growth of the body is through the assimilation of food, so the growth of mind is through the logical organization of subject-matter. Thinking is not like a sausage machine which reduces all materials indifferently to one marketable commodity, but is a power of following up and linking together the specific suggestions that specific things arouse. Accordingly, any subject, from Greek to cooking, and from drawing to mathematics, is intellectual, if intellectual at all, not in its fixt inner structure, but in its function—in its power to start and direct significant inquiry and reflection.—John Dewey, “How we Think.”

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THINKING EMPIRICAL OR SCIENTIFIC

Apart from the development of scientific method, inferences depend upon habits that have been built up under the influence of a number of particular experiences not themselves arranged for logical purposes. A says, “It will probably rain to-morrow.” B asks, “Why do you think so?” and A replies, “Because the sky was lowering at sunset.” When B asks, “What has that to do with it?” A responds, “I do not know, but it generally does rain after such a sunset.” He does not perceive any connection between the appearance of the sky and coming rain; he is not aware of any continuity in the facts themselves—any law or principle, as we usually say. He simply, from frequently recurring conjunctions of the events, has associated them so that when he sees one he thinks of the other. One suggests the other, or is associated with it. A man may believe it will rain to-morrow because he has consulted the barometer; but if he has no conception how the height of the mercury column (or the position of an index moved by its rise and fall) is connected with variations of atmospheric pressure, and how these in turn are connected with the amount of moisture in the air, his belief in the likelihood of rain is purely empirical. When men lived in the open and got their living by hunting, fishing, or pasturing flocks, the detection of the signs and indications of weather changes was a matter of great importance. A body of proverbs and maxims, forming an extensive section of traditionary folklore, was developed. But as long as there was no understanding why or how certain events were signs, as long as foresight and weather shrewdness rested simply upon repeated conjunction among facts, beliefs about the weather were thoroughly empirical.—John Dewey, “How we Think.”

Apart from the development of scientific method, inferences depend upon habits that have been built up under the influence of a number of particular experiences not themselves arranged for logical purposes. A says, “It will probably rain to-morrow.” B asks, “Why do you think so?” and A replies, “Because the sky was lowering at sunset.” When B asks, “What has that to do with it?” A responds, “I do not know, but it generally does rain after such a sunset.” He does not perceive any connection between the appearance of the sky and coming rain; he is not aware of any continuity in the facts themselves—any law or principle, as we usually say. He simply, from frequently recurring conjunctions of the events, has associated them so that when he sees one he thinks of the other. One suggests the other, or is associated with it. A man may believe it will rain to-morrow because he has consulted the barometer; but if he has no conception how the height of the mercury column (or the position of an index moved by its rise and fall) is connected with variations of atmospheric pressure, and how these in turn are connected with the amount of moisture in the air, his belief in the likelihood of rain is purely empirical. When men lived in the open and got their living by hunting, fishing, or pasturing flocks, the detection of the signs and indications of weather changes was a matter of great importance. A body of proverbs and maxims, forming an extensive section of traditionary folklore, was developed. But as long as there was no understanding why or how certain events were signs, as long as foresight and weather shrewdness rested simply upon repeated conjunction among facts, beliefs about the weather were thoroughly empirical.—John Dewey, “How we Think.”

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While many empirical conclusions are, roughly speaking, correct; while they are exact enough to be of great help in practical life; while the presages of a weatherwise sailor or hunter may be more accurate, within a certain restricted range, than those of a scientist who relies wholly upon scientific observations and tests; while, indeed, empirical observations and records furnish the raw or crude material of scientific knowledge, yet the empirical method affords no way of discriminating between right and wrong conclusions. Hence it is responsible for a multitude of false beliefs. The technical designation for one of the commonest fallacies ispost hoc, ergo propter hoc; the belief that because one thing comes after another, it comes because of the other. Now this fallacy of method is the animating principle of empirical conclusions, even when correct—the correctness being almost as much a matter of good luck as of method. That potatoes should be planted only during the crescent moon, that near the sea people are born at high-tide and die at low-tide, that a comet is an omen of danger, that bad luck follows the cracking of a mirror, that a patent medicine cures a disease—these and a thousand like notions are asseverated on the basis of empirical coincidence and conjunction. Moreover, habits of expectation and belief are formed otherwise than by a number of repeated similar cases.—John Dewey, “How We Think.”

While many empirical conclusions are, roughly speaking, correct; while they are exact enough to be of great help in practical life; while the presages of a weatherwise sailor or hunter may be more accurate, within a certain restricted range, than those of a scientist who relies wholly upon scientific observations and tests; while, indeed, empirical observations and records furnish the raw or crude material of scientific knowledge, yet the empirical method affords no way of discriminating between right and wrong conclusions. Hence it is responsible for a multitude of false beliefs. The technical designation for one of the commonest fallacies ispost hoc, ergo propter hoc; the belief that because one thing comes after another, it comes because of the other. Now this fallacy of method is the animating principle of empirical conclusions, even when correct—the correctness being almost as much a matter of good luck as of method. That potatoes should be planted only during the crescent moon, that near the sea people are born at high-tide and die at low-tide, that a comet is an omen of danger, that bad luck follows the cracking of a mirror, that a patent medicine cures a disease—these and a thousand like notions are asseverated on the basis of empirical coincidence and conjunction. Moreover, habits of expectation and belief are formed otherwise than by a number of repeated similar cases.—John Dewey, “How We Think.”

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THINKING, HOW COORDINATED

The sight of a baby often calls out the question: “What do you suppose he is thinking about?” By the nature of the case, the question is unanswerable in detail; but, also by the nature of the case, we may be sure about a baby’s chief interest. His primary problem is mastery of his body as a tool of securing comfortable and effective adjustments to his surroundings, physical and social. The child has to learn to do almost everything: to see, to hear, to reach, to handle, to balance the body, to creep, to walk and so on. Even if it be true that human beings have even more instinctive reactions than lower animals, it is also true that instinctive tendencies are much less perfect in men, and that most of them are of little use till they are intelligently combined and directed. A little chick just out of the shell will after a few trials peck and grasp grains of food with its beak as well as at any later time. This involves a complicated coordination of the eye and the head. An infant does not even begin to reach definitely for things that the eye sees till he is several months old, and even then several weeks’ practise is required before he learns the adjustment so as neither to overreach nor to underreach.It may not be literally true that the child will grasp for the moon, but it is true that he needs much practise before he can tell whether an object is within reach or not. The arm is thrust out instinctively in response to a stimulus from the eye and this tendency is the origin of the ability to reach and grasp exactly and quickly; but nevertheless final mastery requires observing and selecting the successful movements and arranging them in view of an end. These operations of conscious selection and arrangement constitute thinking, tho of a rudimentary type.—John Dewey, “How to Think.”

The sight of a baby often calls out the question: “What do you suppose he is thinking about?” By the nature of the case, the question is unanswerable in detail; but, also by the nature of the case, we may be sure about a baby’s chief interest. His primary problem is mastery of his body as a tool of securing comfortable and effective adjustments to his surroundings, physical and social. The child has to learn to do almost everything: to see, to hear, to reach, to handle, to balance the body, to creep, to walk and so on. Even if it be true that human beings have even more instinctive reactions than lower animals, it is also true that instinctive tendencies are much less perfect in men, and that most of them are of little use till they are intelligently combined and directed. A little chick just out of the shell will after a few trials peck and grasp grains of food with its beak as well as at any later time. This involves a complicated coordination of the eye and the head. An infant does not even begin to reach definitely for things that the eye sees till he is several months old, and even then several weeks’ practise is required before he learns the adjustment so as neither to overreach nor to underreach.

It may not be literally true that the child will grasp for the moon, but it is true that he needs much practise before he can tell whether an object is within reach or not. The arm is thrust out instinctively in response to a stimulus from the eye and this tendency is the origin of the ability to reach and grasp exactly and quickly; but nevertheless final mastery requires observing and selecting the successful movements and arranging them in view of an end. These operations of conscious selection and arrangement constitute thinking, tho of a rudimentary type.—John Dewey, “How to Think.”

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THIRTEEN SUPERSTITION, THE


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