Newspaper Page Text
num KUIH
An Indictment Against the Saloon.
Mr LOST BOY.
Who stole from me my precious boy?
Who robbed me of my hope and joy?
Who came to crush and to destroy?
It was the Saloon.
Who lured him with the guise of friend?
Who haunted to the bitter end?
Who riffled him and mocked and then?
It was the Saloon.
Who blotted out my only light?
Who brought me gloom and starless night?
Who laid him low with sin and blight?
It was the Saloon.
Who robbed him of his spotless name?
Who brought him to disgrace and shame?
These mighty stalking spectres came —•
It was the Saloon.
Who blights the home and breaks the heart?
Who causes tears and blood to start?
Who damns the soul with poisoned dart?
It was the Saloon.
—J. C. S.
Should All Christians Abstain.
Dr. J. L. D. Hillyer.
The general meeting of the Floyd County Asso
ciation at Lindale had up some tempestuous ques
tions. I have been asked to give answer to those
questions in these columns. The first one was:
11 Ought all church members to be total abstainers
fwom strong drink as a beverage?”
Answer: Yes, unquestionably. Against this it has
been urged that the Bible commends wine as a good
thing and that total abstinence is not therefore re
quired by the recorded will of God.
“To the law and to the testimony.”
Wine is commended very often and very warmly
in the Bible, but so far as mv concordance shows,
and I have a very full one, strong drink is com
mended only in two places; these are:
1. Numbers 28. 7, “And the drink offering thereof
shall be the fourth part of an hin for the one lamb;
in the holy place shalt thou cause the strong wine
to be poured into the Lord for a drink offering.”
The Hebrew word translated “strong wine,” is else
where rendered “strong drink.” It is shekar.
Its Greek equivalent sikera, is found in Luke 1: 15,
The prophecy concerning John the Baptist, “and
shall drink neither wine nor strong drink.”
In the passage quoted from Numbers 28: 7. The
drink offering of strong drink is to be poured out in
the holy place. It is not to be used here as a bev
erage, but as a libation.
It cannot be contended that its approved use as
a beverage must be implied because of its use as a
libation. That does not follow, and its approved use
as a beverage nowhere appears.
The other place in which it may be used, is stated
in Prov. 31: 6. It is the same Hebrew word. “Give
strong drink to him that is ready to perish, and wine
unto those that be of heavy hearts.”
Here it is manifestly to be given as a stimulant
in case of extreme emergency. There is nothing to
suggest its use as a beverage in this place.
Drunkenness is always condemned, even when
produced by “continuing long” at the simple wine
of common use. But strong drink is condemned any
way, and always except as a libation or as medicine
in extreme eases when one “is ready to perish.’
A few words about the ancient wine may not be
amiss.
The Latin poet, Horace, seemed to know what he
sang about. He praises very highly the rich strong
wine that came from the valley of Falerur. He val
ued very lightly the “mera” which was the common
every-day beverage of the people, and rejected with
aontempt tbs mwtft—thft trash grsps juice, which
The Golden Age for March 22,1906.
we sometimes call “most.” In Palestine during the
whole Bible period the wine of the country includ
ed these products, and besides them other forms of
preserved grape juice that were called “wine.” One
of these was a syrup made from grape juice, another
was preserved in new raw-hide bottles, in which the
fresh grape juice could be fastened up air-tight, so
stopping the fermentation. The Lord himself tells
us that old wine skins would not do for this, because
they would burst and spill the wine. Why? If the
wine skins were left open the fermentation would go
on and they would not be broken. So they must
have been tied up. A new skin could be tied air
tight, but an old skin could not. There would be left
some slender opening between the wrinkles in the
old, hard raw-hide that would let in enough oxygen
to keep up the fermentation, but they would not let
the carbonic oxide escape.
Just as happens in a fruit jar when a minute hole
is left in the sealing. The fruit ferments, and the
jar bursts. But if the sealing is air-tight no oxygen
can get in, and there can be no fermentation. This
preservation of grape juice in new wine skins, there
fore, kept the juice sweet without fermenting.
These, if not all, at least thew were five kinds of
wine.
1. The “strong drink” made from very sweet
grapes, or given greater fermentation by adding
honey or some other juice containing sugar, or in
some other way that they understood how to effect.
2. The common grape wine corresponding to Hor
ace’s “mero.” This made by ordinary fermentation
from common grapes, contained from two to four
per cent of alcohol, and was so sour that it had to
be diluted with three parts water to one of wine,
thus reducing the percentage of alcohol in the drink,
to one per cent or less. This amount was harmless
unless the drinker of it indulged to great excess,
which indulgence is repeatedly warned against in
the Bible.
3. They had the fresh grape juice nowhere con
demned.
4. They had the grape juice preserved in air-tight
vessels, which was in all probability the kind of
wine Christ made at Cana in Gallilee.
5. The thick grape juice syrup which is very gen
erally, if not always commended.
The wine made in these days is all strong. It is
reinforced with rock-candy or sugar, or whiskey or
rum. So is beer. All the distilled liquors are “strong
drink,” of course.
From all of which it is very clear that no church
member should use strong drink as a beverage at
all. since the Bible condemns it.
Lady Strathcona, wife of the Canadian High Com
missioner, has given $47,500 to be devoted to the em
igration of deserving working men and their families
to Canada.
Twilight of Opportunity.
(Continued from page 12.)
and at length seated himself at the desk again. He
felt that if he had a quire of paper, cut just the
proper size, he could write something. He searched
through his desk with increasing nervousness, but
could not find what he wanted. Instead, mocking him
from the wire tray where he had laid it, was the
letter offering that mining stock. He stared rigidly
at it, a feeling of huge disgust rising to his throat
and finally extending to his finger-tips. His endur
ance gave way. He seized the hateful missive, and
tore it viciously across the middle. The tough linen
paper resisted his attack, and his teeth were clench
ed hard before he had finished the job. Again and
ag-ain he tore, until he had reduced the letter to a
handful of tiny shreds. These he dropped into the
waste-basket.
111.
The days slipped away without incident, until the
time came when Sanderson found himself sitting on
the deck of an east-bound liner watching his native
land melt away on the horizon, He and Esther had
left the children in charge at ft nwden gmt, and ftr
the first time since their brief wedding journey ten
years before, were putting all the cares of the world
behind them and seeking a long holiday in each
other’s company. He felt the pressure of her warm
fingers—eloquent as only such fingers can be—and
was glad of life.
Every day, at about the same hour, they sat thus
together. They did not talk much; there was no
need. He felt profoundly comforted, somehow, by
her presence—comforted as he had never been be
fore, even in the ecstatic days of their love-making.
There was a satisfaction in knowing that she under
stood him—him who was not understood even by
himself. At times—when she was not by his side—
he had a bottomless, groping sensation, as if the
timbers that supported him bad been suddenly
snatched away. He attributed this at first to the roll
ing of the vessel, but remembered that he had ex
perienced it some days before they sailed. He missed
something, wanted something, he knew not what.
From Hamburg—the steamer’s destination—the
two pleasure-seekers wandered by degrees southward
until, early in April, they came to Venice. Here
Sanderson resolved to rest awhile; convinced that
in the shadow of the Campanile, if anywhere, his
old inspiration would return and he could write
out the Message. But it was in Venice that he hap
pened to meet with DeHaven, of Philadelphia, who
had jufct completed a consolidation of all the chair
factories in the middle states and was in Europe
floating the bonds. From London and Paris, where
he had disposed of the entire issue, he had taken a
little “side trip,” as he called it, to the historic
peninsula. He was delighted to find Sanderson at
Venice and, overflowing with the success of his latest
venture, talked glowingly and at length of chairs—
chairs upholstered with 6 per cent bonds and over
laid with solid gold.
“Why didn’t I let you in?” he echoed, in re
sponse to Sanderson’s question; “why, man, I
thought you had retired from all that sort of thing.
I thought that Wabash Fives were your most haz
ardous investment. Os course, if I had known—”
“That’s all right,” broke in Sanderson. “You are
quite correct. I don’t guess I could have gone into
it, anyway. ...”
“There’s another thing that might interest you,
though,” observed DeHaven, after a half-minute’s
silence. “I haven’t put it through yet, but I’m hop
ing good results from it. You see—” and he launch
ed into a description of a coal road which he had
picked up “for a song” and which, with proper
equipment, could be made to pay fabulous dividends.
As Sanderson listened, he felt the fires of enthu
siasm begin to waken within him, but they were
not the divine flames which he had fancied would
some day give light to the world. They were the
embers of money-lust—the dormant passion for gain.
Consciously, helplessly, he watched the seven spirits
of trade re-enter their swept and garnished cham
ber, and take possession of it more completely than
before. It was not that DeHaven’s proposition itself
appealed to him; that proposition simply touched
the match, lit the fire on the hearth, opened the
door—and the Nature of Things did the rest..
Three days after his meeting with DeHaven, San
derson said to his wife:
“You can begin packing up, dear. We leave Ven
ice to-morrow.” Esther did not hide her surprise.
“Why so suddenly, Richard? I thought we were
here for at least a month.”
“Well, I decided to leave sooner,” he replied,
with attempted nonchalance. “I don’t think the cli
mate agrees with me. It makes me low-spirited.”
“Where are we going, then?”
“To Paris.”
Esther picked up the book that she had been read
ing.
“Will you—will you write when you get there?”
she inquired, slowly turning its pages.
“Certainly I shall. That’s what I’m going there
for. I want to be in touch with the great libraries.”
There was a trace of impatience in his voice which
caused her to raise her eyebrows.
She glanced up, but his eyes avoided hers. For a
long time she sat looking at him. Gradually her face
lost its disapproving lines, and became illumined
with melting tenderness—a tenderness in which
there was great sorrow.
End Pwt I,
13