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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