W

Ethan Allen, the hero of Ticonderoga, was once listening in church to the Rev. Jedediah Dewey, the ancester of Admiral Dewey of Manila fame, who was offering prayer in which he was giving God thanks for the victory of the American arms at the battle of Bennington, when Ethan Allen chafed under the devout preacher’s neglect of his part in the conflict and success. Rising in his pew in the midst of the prayer, he said, “Parson Dewey, Parson Dewey!” The parson stopt and opened his eyes to see the source of the interruption, when Ethan Allen added, “Please mention to the Lord about my being there.” “Sit down, thou blasphemer,” thundered Mr. Dewey, “and listen to the praises of the God of battles.”

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VANITY IN DEATH

According to a recent magazine writer, Ann Oldfield, who once took “London by storm,” “being much caressed in the houses of great people and received in friendly terms at court,” is now chiefly recalled as an actress who, when dying, was concerned most with the “becomingness of the burial robe” in which she lay in state indeed in the Jerusalem chamber of Westminster Abbey, in the vaults of which she was entombed.

“Odious in woollen ’twould a saint provoke,(Were the last words that poor Narcissa spoke.)No, let a charming chintz and Brussels laceWrap my cold limbs and shade my lifeless face.One would not, sure, be frightful when one’s dead,And, Betty, give this cheek a little red!” (Text.)

“Odious in woollen ’twould a saint provoke,

(Were the last words that poor Narcissa spoke.)

No, let a charming chintz and Brussels lace

Wrap my cold limbs and shade my lifeless face.

One would not, sure, be frightful when one’s dead,

And, Betty, give this cheek a little red!” (Text.)

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Variation—SeeFreedom Through Drill.

VERBIAGE

Certainly lawyers can not rail at theologians for adhesion to traditional forms.

An author who inveighed against the practise of lawyers drawing long deeds and settlements, thus satirized it: “If a man were to give to another an orange he would merely say, ‘I give you this orange’; but when the transaction is entrusted to the hands of a lawyer to put it in writing, he adopts this form, ‘I hereby give, grant and convey to you all and singular my estate and interest, right, title, claim and advantage of and in the said orange, together with all its rind, skin, juice, pulp, and pips, and all right and advantage therein, with full power to bite, cut, suck, and otherwise eat the same, or give the same away as fully and effectually as I, the said A B, am now entitled to bite, cut, suck, or otherwise eat the same orange, or give the same away, with or without its rind, skin, juice, pulp, and pips, anything hereinbefore or hereinafter, or in any other deed or deeds, instrument or instruments, of what nature or kind soever to the contrary in anywise notwithstanding.’” (Text.)—Croake James, “Curiosities of Law and Lawyers.”

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VERSATILITY

The following anecdote is told of Cyrus Hamlin, a lifelong missionary in Turkey and the chief founder of Robert College in Constantinople:

One day at Bowdoin, Professor Smith delivered a lecture on the steam-engine to Hamlin’s class, not one of whom, perhaps, had ever seen a steam-engine. Those were the days of the stage-coach and the ox-team. After the lecture he said to Professor Smith, “I believe I could make an engine.” The professor replied, “I think you can make anything you undertake, Hamlin, and I wish you would try.” He did try, and succeeded. By working twelve and sometimes fifteen hours each day, he built a steam-engine sufficiently large to be of real service as a part of the philosophical apparatus of the college.—Youth’s Companion.

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Versatility Required—SeeDetails, Peril of.

VERSION, HIS MOTHER’S

A Bible-class teacher was telling of the various translations of the Bible and their different excellences. The class was much interested, and one of the young men that evening was talking to a friend about it.“I think I prefer the King James version for my part,” he said, “tho, of course, the Revised is more scholarly.”His friend smiled. “I prefer my mother’s translation of the Bible myself to any other version,” he said.“Your mother’s?” cried the first young man, thinking his companion had suddenly gone crazy. “What do you mean, Fred?”“I mean that my mother has translated the Bible into the language of daily life for me ever since I was old enough to understand it. She translates it straight, too, and gives its full meaning. There has never been any obscurity about her version. Whatever printed version of the Bible I may study, my mother’s is always the one that clears up my difficulties.”

“I think I prefer the King James version for my part,” he said, “tho, of course, the Revised is more scholarly.”

His friend smiled. “I prefer my mother’s translation of the Bible myself to any other version,” he said.

“Your mother’s?” cried the first young man, thinking his companion had suddenly gone crazy. “What do you mean, Fred?”

“I mean that my mother has translated the Bible into the language of daily life for me ever since I was old enough to understand it. She translates it straight, too, and gives its full meaning. There has never been any obscurity about her version. Whatever printed version of the Bible I may study, my mother’s is always the one that clears up my difficulties.”

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Vessels—SeeCondemned, The.

VIBRATION

The jar and discord of life may often be modified by balancing one discord against another or by changing the rate of effort. Sometimes to go faster in one direction or slower in another brings harmony and peace.

It is rather interesting to call attention to the recent improvement in the running conditions of the steamshipMauretania, which, it will be remembered, is driven by four steam turbines, and which recently damaged one of her propellers. While repairing the latter, advantage was taken of the opportunity to change the propeller-blades a little, and it is said the change reduced very appreciably the vibration of the vessel. It seems that there was more or less resonance between the vibration caused by the propeller-blades and the speed at which they were driven; so by throwing the two out of harmony, the effect is damped out. Doubtless similar conditions exist elsewhere and frequently are the cause of the entire trouble due to vibration, and by some slight change, throwing the apparatus or its support out of tune, the effect is removed.—The Electrical Review.

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SeeCommunication, Psychical.

VICARIOUS SACRIFICE

Dr. Turner, in his book on the Samoan Islands, tells the following incident:

The people were cannibals, the King, Mahetoa, leading in the horrible practise. His young son, Polu, hated the heathenish and brutal custom, and one day, when he saw a poor boy waiting to be killed and served as a tender morsel for the King’s dinner, he was touched with pity and said, “Don’t cry; I will try and save you.” So he drest himself in coconut leaves and had himself served just as tho he had been killed and roasted whole. The King came to the table, and looked down at the cannibal dish, saw two bright eyes looking up at him. He recognized his son, and the thought flashed through his heathen mind, “What if it were, indeed, my dear son, whose body had been cooked for my meal!” He was touched, too, by the magnanimity of his boy, taking the other lad’s place, and he abolished cannibalism by law from his kingdom from that day. (Text.)

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VICARIOUS SALVATION IMPOSSIBLE

There was a man who dreamed that he died and, seeking admission to paradise, was refused. He attempted to excuse his lack of religious faith and fidelity by the old pretext that, while he looked after worldly affairs, his wife went to church for both. “Well,” said the gatekeeper, “she has gone in for both!”

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Vicarious Sight—SeeFraternity.

VICARIOUSNESS

There are men who reap consequences without having the advantages of the causes that brought them about. For instance, it takes the gout a good long time to grow in a family, but it does grow, and it often grows from a good cellar of port in the possession of an ancestor. Now, what I think hard is that a man should have the port without having the gout; and what I think more tragic still, is that another man should have the gout without having had the port. But still that is one of the great laws of life. We can not avoid it, and we dare not impugn its wisdom. Did we, we should be like the great civic functionary who determined to have a south wall built all around his garden.—George Dawson.

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Charles Wagner, in “The Gospel of Life,” gives this interesting incident:

Something happened last winter, in Paris, that I shall place side by side with the mite of the gospel. You will remark the profound analogy, the close spiritual kinship of these two cases.In the north wind of December a shelter was raised where warm soup was given to the unfortunate. A very old woman, who had long waited her turn, at length sat down and was served. Before she touched her portion, she noticed that a young, robust working man beside her had already consumed his with an avidity that betrayed that he was famished. At once she pushed her plate toward the workman and said to him: “I am not hungry, will you eat this?” The workman accepted. But some one had noticed all that had passed. As they went out, he took the old woman aside and said to her: “You were not hungry then?” “Oh, yes,” she answered, blushing, “but I am old and can bear it, and that poor young man was more in need of it than I.”

Something happened last winter, in Paris, that I shall place side by side with the mite of the gospel. You will remark the profound analogy, the close spiritual kinship of these two cases.

In the north wind of December a shelter was raised where warm soup was given to the unfortunate. A very old woman, who had long waited her turn, at length sat down and was served. Before she touched her portion, she noticed that a young, robust working man beside her had already consumed his with an avidity that betrayed that he was famished. At once she pushed her plate toward the workman and said to him: “I am not hungry, will you eat this?” The workman accepted. But some one had noticed all that had passed. As they went out, he took the old woman aside and said to her: “You were not hungry then?” “Oh, yes,” she answered, blushing, “but I am old and can bear it, and that poor young man was more in need of it than I.”

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VICE DEN DISPLACED BY MISSION

Persons passing No. 293 Bowery, formerly the Germania Assembly Rooms, were invited to come in and be “rescued.”“This is Hadley Rescue Hall,” said the man at the door. “Please come in and be rescued while there is time. All are welcome.”“What!” exclaimed an astonished man; “the old Germania a mission! Why, this place was one of the biggest gambling dens the city ever had, and next door was McGuirk’s ‘Suicide Hall.’ If I had the money that I blew in there I wouldn’t be walking the Bowery to-day in search of a nickel for a cup of coffee.”

Persons passing No. 293 Bowery, formerly the Germania Assembly Rooms, were invited to come in and be “rescued.”

“This is Hadley Rescue Hall,” said the man at the door. “Please come in and be rescued while there is time. All are welcome.”

“What!” exclaimed an astonished man; “the old Germania a mission! Why, this place was one of the biggest gambling dens the city ever had, and next door was McGuirk’s ‘Suicide Hall.’ If I had the money that I blew in there I wouldn’t be walking the Bowery to-day in search of a nickel for a cup of coffee.”

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VICTORIES, DISASTROUS

Milman has told us how Pope John XXI, bursting into exultant laughter as he entered for the first time that noble chamber which he had built for himself at Viterbo, is crusht by its avenging roof, which that instant comes down on his head. And thus it is true, in a deeper sense, that many a triumph crushes and extinguishes all that is noblest in him who has won it. Doubtless, failure and defeat are bitter, but hardest of all to bear are not our losses but our victories.—BishopPotter,Scribner’s Magazine.

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VICTORY

Baldwin, an Englishman, who went to Africa only with the intention of shooting, one day put this problem to himself, after having been very nearly felled by a lion: “Why does man risk his life without having any interest in doing so?” The answer he gave to himself was: “It is a question which I will not try to solve. All I can say is that in victory one finds an inward satisfaction for which it is worth while to run a risk, even if there is nobody to applaud.”

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In 61B.C., Pompey returned to Rome from the wars, having conquered the known world. He led a triumphal procession along theVia Sacra, occupying two days. In front were borne brazen tablets on which were recorded a list of the nations conquered and the trophies won in Africa, in Europe, and in Asia, representing nine hundred cities and one thousand fortresses. (Text.)

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SeeWinning.

VICTORY IN DEFEAT

Billy Boy was in a very serious frame of mind; in fact, he was quite gloomy and dejected. To be sure, his side hadn’t won the cricket match, but that was scarcely enough to account for his present state of feeling. He had lost before, and usually with pretty good grace. But to-day no sympathy appealed to him, no cheerful encouragement won so much as a shadow of a smile. The hopeful, merry, happy Billy Boy had entirely disappeared.Mother, whose experience with little boys had warned her of occasions when it was a case of “do-better-or-do-nothing-at-all,” as Hans says in the Grimm story, waited for the situation to develop, and at last the silence was broken. Slowly, seriously, solemnly, Billy Boy said it:“Mother, God was on the side of the bad boys, and they won. You see, we fellows thought we would try awfully hard and not get mad or cheat or say bad words. And not one fellow did. And the other fellows did—like fury. I guess they swore. And they won and we were licked. God was on their side all right, and it’s not fair.”Ordinary comfort and explanation availed nothing. The fact remained. The faithful little band that had tried to do right had been beaten by the rough little crowd that didn’t care anything at all about it. God was on the side of might—not right. This was self-evident and did not admit of explanation;and who wants comfort for injustice? Not Billy Boy. After a while father came in, and before Billy Boy saw him, mother had presented the case.He thought carefully a moment. Then his cheerful voice was heard.“Well, my boy, I hear you won out to-day.”“Well, then,” in a voice of awful solemnity, “you heard wrong, ’cause we didn’t; we were licked.”“Oh, but I heard that there were two contests; which did you win?”“Why, I don’t know what you mean, father.”“Mother told me about it. She told me you lost the match, but you won the big, important thing; you didn’t beat the other fellows, but you beat yourselves, and conquered all the anger and unfairness and bad language. Congratulations, old fellow! You won out and I’m proud of you.”Billy Boy’s face was slowly undergoing a change. It was growing once more interested, happy, hopeful. “Why, that’s so, dad,” he said joyously, after a minute; “I didn’t see that. And God was on our side after all, wasn’t He?”“Greater is he that ruleth his spirit than he that taketh a city,” said the father, with a smile.That night when Billy Boy said his prayers, this is the way he ended his petition: “And please, God, excuse me for the way I thought about you this afternoon. I didn’t understand.”—Congregationalist.

Mother, whose experience with little boys had warned her of occasions when it was a case of “do-better-or-do-nothing-at-all,” as Hans says in the Grimm story, waited for the situation to develop, and at last the silence was broken. Slowly, seriously, solemnly, Billy Boy said it:

“Mother, God was on the side of the bad boys, and they won. You see, we fellows thought we would try awfully hard and not get mad or cheat or say bad words. And not one fellow did. And the other fellows did—like fury. I guess they swore. And they won and we were licked. God was on their side all right, and it’s not fair.”

Ordinary comfort and explanation availed nothing. The fact remained. The faithful little band that had tried to do right had been beaten by the rough little crowd that didn’t care anything at all about it. God was on the side of might—not right. This was self-evident and did not admit of explanation;and who wants comfort for injustice? Not Billy Boy. After a while father came in, and before Billy Boy saw him, mother had presented the case.

He thought carefully a moment. Then his cheerful voice was heard.

“Well, my boy, I hear you won out to-day.”

“Well, then,” in a voice of awful solemnity, “you heard wrong, ’cause we didn’t; we were licked.”

“Oh, but I heard that there were two contests; which did you win?”

“Why, I don’t know what you mean, father.”

“Mother told me about it. She told me you lost the match, but you won the big, important thing; you didn’t beat the other fellows, but you beat yourselves, and conquered all the anger and unfairness and bad language. Congratulations, old fellow! You won out and I’m proud of you.”

Billy Boy’s face was slowly undergoing a change. It was growing once more interested, happy, hopeful. “Why, that’s so, dad,” he said joyously, after a minute; “I didn’t see that. And God was on our side after all, wasn’t He?”

“Greater is he that ruleth his spirit than he that taketh a city,” said the father, with a smile.

That night when Billy Boy said his prayers, this is the way he ended his petition: “And please, God, excuse me for the way I thought about you this afternoon. I didn’t understand.”—Congregationalist.

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VICTORY, ULTIMATE

The victory that comes beyond all life’s failures is the subject of these lines fromSuccess:

There is no failure. Life itself’s a songOf victory o’er death, and ages longHave told the story old of triumphs wroughtUnending, from the things once held for naught.The battle’s over; tho defeated now,In coming time the waiting world shall bowBefore the throne of Truth that’s builded highAbove the dust of those whose ashes lieAll heedless of the glorious fight they wonWhen death obscured the light of vict’ry’s sun.

There is no failure. Life itself’s a song

Of victory o’er death, and ages long

Have told the story old of triumphs wrought

Unending, from the things once held for naught.

The battle’s over; tho defeated now,

In coming time the waiting world shall bow

Before the throne of Truth that’s builded high

Above the dust of those whose ashes lie

All heedless of the glorious fight they won

When death obscured the light of vict’ry’s sun.

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VICTORY WITH GOD

But yesterday I opened an English history. The scholar was recounting the events of the hour when Parliament prohibited slavery, in the English colonies. At that time, the author says, applause in those sacred precincts was unknown, but suddenly at the name of Wilberforce, all the members arose, cheered wildly, waved hands and caps, and in a tumult of enthusiasm, clustered about Wilberforce. But the one man who sat silent and overcome, perhaps was thinking of the hour when in Parliament he made his first plea. Then his seemed a hopeless task. The rich men of England drew their income from slavery and the sugar plantations. The whole moneyed system of England was involved. After Wilberforce’s first attack on slavery, he was left alone. Men turned their backs on him as if he were a leper. He ate his bread in solitude. When he wandered through the corridors of the House of Commons, he was alone, like an outcast. All great houses were closed to the reformer. Then Wilberforce wrote a little book on religion and conscience, and the moral state of England. But the bitter fight was transferred to a cathedral, whose canon thundered against the reformer, and defended the institution of slavery. But Wilberforce held on his way. He knew his God. He saw afar off Him who was invisible. And lo, the sword flashed, and he beheld the Prince of Peace marching to victory. Once there was Wilberforce, and in the shadow behind him one like unto the Son of God. Then, there was Wilberforce, and all England behind him, and the Eternal God over all, leading on, in whose name Wilberforce wrought exploits.—N. D. Hillis.

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VIEW, THE NEAR AND FAR

How often would it happen that men who see evil in other men, and hold one another in distrust and contempt, would gain a different impression merely by drawing nearer together.Tit-Bitsgives this humorous instance:

They met on a bridge. Each held out his hand, and they shook, and instantly realized that they were utter strangers. Had not one of them been a genuine Hibernian the situation might have been embarrassing.“Begorra, that’s quare,” said Pat. “When we wor so far off that we couldn’t see eich other I thought it was you an’ you thought it was me, and now we’re here together it’s nayther of us.” (Text.)

“Begorra, that’s quare,” said Pat. “When we wor so far off that we couldn’t see eich other I thought it was you an’ you thought it was me, and now we’re here together it’s nayther of us.” (Text.)

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VIEW-POINT

In a poem, “The Mountain,” Edwin Markham shows how differently a mountain affects different minds:

Each builds his world forever, dark or bright,And sits within his separate universe.The shepherd sees in this green mountain topPlace where his sheep may wander and grow fat.What to the drover is this lilied pool?A hollow for his swine to wallow in.Gold-hunters find upon this rocky peakNothing but ledges for their ringing picks.But to the poet all this soaring heightSmokes with the footsteps of the passing God!

Each builds his world forever, dark or bright,

And sits within his separate universe.

The shepherd sees in this green mountain top

Place where his sheep may wander and grow fat.

What to the drover is this lilied pool?

A hollow for his swine to wallow in.

Gold-hunters find upon this rocky peak

Nothing but ledges for their ringing picks.

But to the poet all this soaring height

Smokes with the footsteps of the passing God!

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SeeLife What We Make It;Moods Determining Desires.

Viewpoint Changed—SeeValues in Question.

Views, Contracted—SeeSelf-limitation.

VIGILANCE

Richard III went out at twilight to reconnoiter; he found a sentinel fast asleep at the outposts. The King promptly stabbed him to the heart and left upon his breast a paper with the stern inscription, “I found him asleep and I leave him so.”

Sooner or later death, or something equally to be feared, overtakes every man who forsakes his duty and falls asleep at his post. (Text.)

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Vigilance in Nature—SeeNature’s Aggressiveness.

VINCIBLENESS

Men are like timber. Oak will bear a stress that pine won’t, but there never was a stick of timber on the earth that could not be broken at some pressure. There never was a man born on the earth that could not be broken at some pressure—not always the same nor put in the same place. There is many a man who can not be broken by money pressure, but who can be by pressure of flattery. There is many a man impervious to flattery who is warped and biased by his social inclinations. There is many a man whom you can not tempt with red gold, but you can with dinners and convivialities. One way or the other, every man is vincible. There is a great deal of meaning in that simple portion of the Lord’s Prayer, “Lead us not into temptation.”—Henry Ward Beecher.

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VIRTUE IN POOR GUISES

I believe that virtue shows quite as well in rags and patches as she does in purple and fine linen. I believe that she and every beautiful object in external nature claims some sympathy in the breast of the poorest man who breaks his scanty loaf of daily bread. I believe that she goes barefoot as well as shod. I believe that she dwells rather oftener in alleys and by-ways than she does in courts and palaces, and that it is good, and pleasant, and profitable to track her out, and follow her. I believe that to lay one’s hand upon some of those rejected ones whom the world has too long forgotten, and too often misused, and to say to the proudest and most thoughtless, “These creatures have the same elements and capacities of goodness as yourselves; they are molded in the same form, and made of the same clay; and tho ten times worse than you, may, in having retained anything of their original nature amid the trials and distresses of their condition, be really ten times better.” I believe that to do this is to pursue a worthy and not useless vocation.—Charles Dickens.

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VIRTUE NOT TO BE COERCED

The most temperate crowd of men I know is in Sing Sing. There isn’t a single thief in the Raymond Street Jail. But pull down the walls of Sing Sing, and then you will discover the difference between a man whose virtue depends upon a wall and the man whose goodness depends upon a will.—N. D. Hillis.

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VIRTUE, TIRING OF

We have come to a time when multitudes are tired of law, and duty, honor, justice, and the old solid and substantial virtues of the fathers. Now and then this rebellious mood voices itself in the lips of some restless youth who exclaims boldly, “I hate the very word duty.” Men are become like the cattle in the clover-field, that once the appetite is satisfied, tire of walking around knee-deep in rich, luscious grasses, and stick their heads through the fence, to strain toward the dog’s kennel in the dusty lane. It is a singular fact that a colt in the field, up to its ears in clover, as soon as it has eaten andis full, envies the poor old forsaken horse, out in the lane, a mere bag of bones, deserted by its owner and left to die, and eating dirt in its hungry desire for a single mouthful of grass-roots.—N. D. Hillis.

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VIRTUES, TRANSPLANTED

A rare plant from the King’s Gardens at Kew, England, has floated down the stream to a little village in Surrey. Its flowers may now be seen, to the great surprize of botanists, growing on the banks of this village stream in fine profusion. So the flowers of humility, love, and faith, transplanted in us from higher lives may grow in the humblest lives, surprizing all around by their sweet fragrance.

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Vision—SeeElevation and Vision;Inspiration.

Vision, Distorted—SeeBlindness Cured.

VISION OF JESUS

It was the vision of the Savior which transformed the whole being of Paul. And the apprehension of the person of the risen and ascended Son of God must forever change the one who has beheld Him.

Sir David Brewster says, in his life of Sir Isaac Newton, that the great astronomer on a certain occasion gazed steadfastly with his naked eyes on the sun shining in his meridian splendor. As a consequence, the impression in the retina was so deep that for days he could not see anything with distinctness—turn which way he would, he constantly beheld the image of the sun. He shut himself up for days in a dark room, but even there he could clearly discern the golden halo of the light. (Text.)

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VISION RESTORED

A young French girl, daughter of a famous painter, had lost her eyesight in infancy. She was supposed to be incurably blind. But years later a noted Paris oculist was consulted and performed a delicate operation which completely restored her vision. Frequently afterward she would run into her father’s arms and exclaim: “To think that I had such a father for so many years and never knew him!”

So many souls are blind and are ignorant of their Heavenly Father! (Text.)

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Vision, The Larger—SeeSelf-limitations.

Visiting, Vain—SeeAcquaintances.

VITAL FAITHS

An institution has life in it. Cut any of the faiths of your fathers and they bleed. At the heart of a grain of wheat is a golden spot that holds the life, and a coming sheaf. You may strip off the outer hull, but touch that living heart at your peril. You may change the forms of your government, but, oh, guard the liberty of your fathers. You may change the wording of your fathers’ creed, but at your peril touch the providence of God, His Fatherhood and love, the way of life through Christ, the hope of immortality. You may change the method of worship on Sunday, but at your peril do not destroy it, until in one wild orgy of drunken pleasure, your children become mere insect “skippers,” dancing for a day on the surface of a poisoned pool, then to disappear forever.—N. D. Hillis.

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VITALITY, LOW

Just as the body when at a low vitality is susceptible to colds, so it may as truly be said of the soul, when impoverished it falls a prey to temptation and sin.

The common theory that all colds are the result of exposure is a great mistake, inasmuch as exposure is not the direct cause of the trouble. Colds are caused by hostile microbes, or bacteria, which gain a foothold at a time when our vitality has been lowered by exposure. But there are many quarters of the globe where one finds it impossible to catch cold, simply by reason of the fact that there is no cold to catch.Peary and his men during the months they spent in the arctic regions were immune from cold, tho they were constantly enduring exposure of every kind. They passed day after day in clothes so saturated with perspiration that by day they froze into a solid mass, so to speak, and the clothes cut into their flesh. And at night, in their sleeping-bags, the first hour was spent in thawing out. They returned to civilization none the worse in health, but soon contracted severe colds upon reaching there. People were much amused by the press accounts of how Commander Peary had taken cold while proceeding to dine with a friend in a suburb ofWashington, the taxicab which was conveying him and his wife having broken down during a snow flurry in December.—Harper’s Weekly.

Peary and his men during the months they spent in the arctic regions were immune from cold, tho they were constantly enduring exposure of every kind. They passed day after day in clothes so saturated with perspiration that by day they froze into a solid mass, so to speak, and the clothes cut into their flesh. And at night, in their sleeping-bags, the first hour was spent in thawing out. They returned to civilization none the worse in health, but soon contracted severe colds upon reaching there. People were much amused by the press accounts of how Commander Peary had taken cold while proceeding to dine with a friend in a suburb ofWashington, the taxicab which was conveying him and his wife having broken down during a snow flurry in December.—Harper’s Weekly.

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Vocabulary and Missionaries—SeeSpeech and Missionaries.

Vocal Practise and Health—SeeSinging Conducive to Health.

VOCIFERATION

The Persians in their battles with the Scythians brought with them from Europe in their train a great number of asses, as beasts of burden, to transport the tents and the baggage of the army. These asses were accustomed in times of excitement and danger to set up a very terrific braying. It was, in fact, all that they could do. And it was effective, for the Scythian horses in their troops of cavalry, who would have faced spears and javelins and the loudest shouts and vociferations of human adversaries without fear, were appalled and put to flight at hearing the unearthly noises which issued from the Persian camp whenever they approached it. The battle was won by the braying of asses.

Any political campaign might stand as a testimony of the power of vociferation. But the really important issues of the world are never decided by the braying of asses.

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Voice—SeeAudience, Inspiration from.

VOICE, A SWEET

The sweet voice of Philip Phillips once charmed the Senate chamber at Washington and won a rare tribute from President Lincoln. It was toward the close of the Civil War. The United States Christian Commission was in session. Statesmen, generals and other leading friends of the Union were there. On being invited to sing, Mr. Phillips rendered Mrs. Gates’ “Your Mission,” beginning,

“If you can not on the oceanSail among the swiftest fleet.”

“If you can not on the ocean

Sail among the swiftest fleet.”

As he proceeded every one sat spellbound. But when he reached the lines,

“If you can not in the conflictProve yourself a soldier true;If where fire and smoke are thickestThere’s no work for you to do;When the battle-field is silentYou can go with careful tread;You can bear away the wounded,You can cover up the dead,”

“If you can not in the conflict

Prove yourself a soldier true;

If where fire and smoke are thickest

There’s no work for you to do;

When the battle-field is silent

You can go with careful tread;

You can bear away the wounded,

You can cover up the dead,”

the Senate chamber rang with a tempest of applause, and a note was passed to the chairman, Secretary Seward, from the pen of Mr. Lincoln for the singer: “Near the close let us have ‘Your Mission’ repeated.”

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Voice, Knowledge of—SeeTestimony, a Sheep’s.

VOICE OF GOD

There is an old legend of a nun. She had gone into the thick solitudes to listen to the forest voices. Seated in the shade of a tree she heard a song till then new to her ears. It was the song of the mystic bird. In that song she heard in music all that man thinks and feels, all that he seeks and that he fails to find. On strong wings that song lifted her soul to the heights where it looks upon reality. There, with hands clasped, the nun listened and listened, forgetting earth, sky, time and even self-listened for long centuries, never tiring, but ever finding in that voice a sweetness forever new.

Just such music, only infinitely sweeter, does the soul find that listens amid its solitudes to the voice of God. (Text.)

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VOICE, THE HUMAN

The author of the “Descent of Man” thinks even the human voice is prophetic of the ascent of man. Speaking of the “wonderful power, range, flexibility, and sweetness of the musical sounds producible by the human larynx,” he says:

The habits of savages give no indication of how this faculty could have been developed. The singing of savages is a more or less monotonous howling, and the females seldom sing at all. It seems as if the organ had been prepared in anticipation of the future progress of man, since it contains latent capacities which are useless to him in his earlier condition.

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Voice, The Mother’s—SeeFather’s Voice.

Voting—SeeBallot a Duty.

Vows—SeeGratitude.

Voyage of Life—SeeLife a Voyage.

VULGARITY IN THE RICH

“Edward Everett Hale,” said a lawyer, “was one of the guests at a millionaire’s dinner. The millionaire was a free spender, but he wanted full credit for every dollar put out. As the dinner progressed, he told his guests what the more expensive dishes had cost.“‘This terrapin,’ he would say, ‘was shipped direct from Baltimore. A Baltimore cook came on to prepare it. The dish actually cost one dollar a teaspoonful.’“So he talked of the fresh peas, the hothouse asparagus, the Covent Garden peaches, and the other courses. He dwelt especially on the expense of the large and beautiful grapes, each bunch a foot long, each grape bigger than a plum. He told down to a penny what he had figured it out that the grapes had cost him apiece.“The guests looked annoyed. They ate the expensive grapes charily. But Dr. Hale, smiling, extended his plate and said:“‘Would you mind cutting me off about $1.87 worth more, please?’” (Text.)—RochesterHerald.

“‘This terrapin,’ he would say, ‘was shipped direct from Baltimore. A Baltimore cook came on to prepare it. The dish actually cost one dollar a teaspoonful.’

“So he talked of the fresh peas, the hothouse asparagus, the Covent Garden peaches, and the other courses. He dwelt especially on the expense of the large and beautiful grapes, each bunch a foot long, each grape bigger than a plum. He told down to a penny what he had figured it out that the grapes had cost him apiece.

“The guests looked annoyed. They ate the expensive grapes charily. But Dr. Hale, smiling, extended his plate and said:

“‘Would you mind cutting me off about $1.87 worth more, please?’” (Text.)—RochesterHerald.

(3414)

Wager, A Rash—SeeWomanly Wit.

WAIT AND SEE

Be not swift to be afraid;Many a ghostly thing is laidIn the light from out the shade,Wait and see.Do not live your sorrows twice;Fear is like a touch of ice;Faith can kill it in a trice,Wait and see.Why expect the worst to come?Pondered cares are troublesome,Joy makes up a goodly sum,Wait and see.Better than your wildest dreamsIs God’s light that for you gleams.When the morning cloudy seems,Wait and see.—Marianne Farningham.

Be not swift to be afraid;Many a ghostly thing is laidIn the light from out the shade,Wait and see.

Be not swift to be afraid;

Many a ghostly thing is laid

In the light from out the shade,

Wait and see.

Do not live your sorrows twice;Fear is like a touch of ice;Faith can kill it in a trice,Wait and see.

Do not live your sorrows twice;

Fear is like a touch of ice;

Faith can kill it in a trice,

Wait and see.

Why expect the worst to come?Pondered cares are troublesome,Joy makes up a goodly sum,Wait and see.

Why expect the worst to come?

Pondered cares are troublesome,

Joy makes up a goodly sum,

Wait and see.

Better than your wildest dreamsIs God’s light that for you gleams.When the morning cloudy seems,Wait and see.—Marianne Farningham.

Better than your wildest dreams

Is God’s light that for you gleams.

When the morning cloudy seems,

Wait and see.

—Marianne Farningham.

(3415)

WAITING

We often accomplish more by patient waiting than by direct effort.

There was a very balky horse in town which nobody could drive. A kind gentleman undertook to drive him through the White Mountains. His owner laughed, and said: “You can not drive out of town, much less through the mountains.” He said quietly, “I think I will manage him,” and he did, in this way. He filled the carriage-box with books, and when the horse balked he quietly flung the reins on the hook, took out a book and began to read, and waited patiently until the horse saw fit to start. This he did two or three times, and the horse was cured.

(3416)

SeeStatic Progress.

Waiting for Enlightenment—SeeDrink.

Walking—SeeFollowing Inexactly;Gait and Character.

WALKING FOR INSPIRATION

Much bending over the folio does not make the better part of poetry or of prose. It inheres as much in the physiological condition that results from the swinging of the legs, which movement quickens heart action and stimulates the brain by supplying it with blood charged with the life-giving principle of the open air.In spite of his club-foot, Byron, one of the most fecund, if not the most moral, of poets, managed to walk about in the open to an extent that should shame the verse-writer of to-day, clinging to his strap in the trolley-car. Wordsworth walked all over the Cumberland district and the neighboring country. Wherever he happened to be he poked into every secret corner. Shelley, we are told, rambled everywhere. Despite all unseemly cavil as to Tennyson’s drinking habits, I should say that he drew more inspiration from his walks than from his wine. Goethe, who during his lifetime required fifty thousand bottles of the vintner’s best to sweetenhis imagination, found his extensive walks about Weimar a source of great inspirational profit. (Text.)—Bailey Millard,The Critic.

In spite of his club-foot, Byron, one of the most fecund, if not the most moral, of poets, managed to walk about in the open to an extent that should shame the verse-writer of to-day, clinging to his strap in the trolley-car. Wordsworth walked all over the Cumberland district and the neighboring country. Wherever he happened to be he poked into every secret corner. Shelley, we are told, rambled everywhere. Despite all unseemly cavil as to Tennyson’s drinking habits, I should say that he drew more inspiration from his walks than from his wine. Goethe, who during his lifetime required fifty thousand bottles of the vintner’s best to sweetenhis imagination, found his extensive walks about Weimar a source of great inspirational profit. (Text.)—Bailey Millard,The Critic.

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WALKING WITH GOD

When a boy I remember distinctly seeing my father at a long distance off (almost as far as the eye could reach) on a road on which we were all accustomed to travel, as it was the highway to a big city. The one thing that enabled me to distinguish my father from other fellow travelers on that road was his manly walk. There was the graceful swing of the arm and directness of step, with his toes pointing in the right direction that quickly identified him from other men.In the moral and spiritual world we are known by how we step, whether we are stepping with God or away from Him.—R. S.

In the moral and spiritual world we are known by how we step, whether we are stepping with God or away from Him.—R. S.

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Jeanette McMillan writes in this poem of a life’s journey with God:

My plans were made, I thought my path all bright and clear,My heart with songs o’erflowed, the world seemed full of cheer,My Lord I wished to serve, to take Him for my Guide,To keep so close that I could feel Him by my side;And so I traveled on.But suddenly, in skies so clear and full of light,The clouds came thick and fast, the day seemed changed to night.Instead of paths so clear and full of things so sweet,Rough things, and thorns, and stones seemed all about my feet,I scarce could travel on.I bowed my head and wondered why this change should come,And murmured, “Lord, is this because of aught I’ve done?Has not the past been full enough of pain and care?Why should my path again be changed to dark from fair?”But still I traveled on.I listened—quiet and still, there came a voice:“This path is mine, not thine; I made the choice.Dear child, this service will be best for thee and meIf thou wilt simply trust and leave the end with me.”And so we travel on.

My plans were made, I thought my path all bright and clear,

My heart with songs o’erflowed, the world seemed full of cheer,

My Lord I wished to serve, to take Him for my Guide,

To keep so close that I could feel Him by my side;

And so I traveled on.

But suddenly, in skies so clear and full of light,The clouds came thick and fast, the day seemed changed to night.Instead of paths so clear and full of things so sweet,Rough things, and thorns, and stones seemed all about my feet,I scarce could travel on.

But suddenly, in skies so clear and full of light,

The clouds came thick and fast, the day seemed changed to night.

Instead of paths so clear and full of things so sweet,

Rough things, and thorns, and stones seemed all about my feet,

I scarce could travel on.

I bowed my head and wondered why this change should come,And murmured, “Lord, is this because of aught I’ve done?Has not the past been full enough of pain and care?Why should my path again be changed to dark from fair?”But still I traveled on.

I bowed my head and wondered why this change should come,

And murmured, “Lord, is this because of aught I’ve done?

Has not the past been full enough of pain and care?

Why should my path again be changed to dark from fair?”

But still I traveled on.

I listened—quiet and still, there came a voice:“This path is mine, not thine; I made the choice.Dear child, this service will be best for thee and meIf thou wilt simply trust and leave the end with me.”And so we travel on.

I listened—quiet and still, there came a voice:

“This path is mine, not thine; I made the choice.

Dear child, this service will be best for thee and me

If thou wilt simply trust and leave the end with me.”

And so we travel on.

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WANDERER’S RETURN

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