Newspaper Page Text
.
r
K»
i
-'V
DARMNG SOCKS.
Xtarning socks, darning sock-s,
Through and through ttie needle flies.
An«l she muses, and she rocks,
While the thread she deftly plies
To and fro, to and fro:
Thinking of the bright to-come
And the shadowed long ago;
Ufa buil that's yet to blow
And a faded, treasured bloom
While the pine-light flickers glimmers,
Wavers on the hearth of stone.
And the kettle sings and si enters,
Mingles with the wind's low moan.
Slower, by tiie dy'ng embers,
Moves her needle; slower rocks
Slops her musings, and remembers,
That slid's darning socks.
JEW,
Gentile & Christian ;
OR,
THE CURSE OF MONEY.
The Teachings ot The Aa/arene.
Israel rushed into the street; the rain w*s
coming down in torrents; but do rain would
have affseted the young Jew’s hot blood then.
The rain poured down; Israei walked on with a
rapid pace, almost wishing the elements would
ernsh or exhaust him. Drenched and shiver
ing, he reached the hotel; there, in a doorway
next to it, were two boys, crouching together:
‘Please, sir, he has found ns, ‘ they both call
ed out; ‘oh ! sir, he'll come and fetch us.•
•Whom do^ou meaD ?‘ said Israel, still men
tally benumbed by the shock he had suffered.
‘Onr father. He’ll knock us about, and take
our clothes away; you’ll see, sir. Oh ! don’t
give us up.’
‘Gome in, this instant !’ They entered the
hotel, where by little and little everyone was
beginning to look upon the great Eastern Jew
as a moral curiosity.
‘Dry clothes ?’ was all Israel said. The smile
vanished from the waiter’s lips at the tone ot the
words, and he hastened to obey the order.
It was well Israel had something to call away
his attention from himself, or his nervous system
might have become deranged. What was this
Western World—this great civilization, this as
tounding finery in the parks, the opera, and the
honr s he had visited—when a father of high
rank gave his daughters to the highest bidder,
and another parent, of low rank, robbed and beat
his children? Where should he find the great
expectatons he had had, realized? In the chari
table institutions, of which he had heard so
much ? ‘But wherever there is need of much
so ial charity, much social injustice must have
existed before,’ thought Israel.
He ordered some food for the boys, and sent
them to bed, for he felt he must be left alone.
The yonDgest of the lads, a remarkably intel
ligent-looking little felliw, went up to him:
•Wouldn’t it be wrong, now, if you let father
oatch us ?’
‘Why should you be so muen afraid of it?’
‘Becausi father never was good to us. Why
don’t the police take boys away from bad fathers?
they only teach ’em to beg and steal, as ours
does. What’s the good to haye a father if he
don’t make a good boy of you ? Now, if you
turn us off, sir, we shall be on the streets again,
and go to the dogs.’
Israel unconsciously stroked the boy’s curly
hair. The very touch of kindness seemed to
affect the vagrant child to tears; he broke out
into sobs:
‘Oh., sir, have pity on us poor wretches; just
think how we’ve been brought up; and it is so
nice to bo with good people, who don’t get
drunk and swear, and steal, and rob. Don’t
send us away: yon know. sir. mother is dead !
‘No one shall take you away; go to bed, my j
boys, and pray to God for me.’ ^
‘That we will, only we'll have to find out what
to say. But won’t He understand us anyhow,
sir?’
‘Anyhow, my boys, even if you only think of
Him.’
me boys went, drying their tears.
The rain had ceased, the summer evening
was bright and cool. Israel drew up the vene-
tian-blind and stepped out to breathe the fresh,
moist air. Before him lay the lovely panorama
of the shadowy park, lit up by rows of gas
lamps; below him was the active life of the great
metropolis. A great well of tenderness had
been opened in his breast for all mankind—he
could have stretched out his arms to those other
beings that inhabit the earth with him, and
cried out with the voice of the seer and prophet:
‘Oh let us he brothers aDd sisters, we that in
habit one home in a larger sense ! Is our beau
tiful planet merely a place for strife and strug
gles? Can no higher unity and harmony exist
here ? Is the grand preaching of Him whose
feet rts’ed on Palestine never to be understood?
Shall we ever be successful only when we tread
on semebody else’s interests? Must the rioh be
luxurious, and the poor needy ? What is virtue
if its existence must be built on the loss and
vice of others ? Is it not possible to let all share
in the beauty of existence; let all have seme
gratification of holy desires; let all be children
of one great universal Father and God ? Mnst
there be waste among us; one brother lost, one
sister lost, the other gained—oh, why is the lost
one worse than the gained one—are they not all
God's children ? I cannot see it; I can find no
difference. Can man ever understand that he
mnst help to save those that are of one flesh
and blood with him ?’ Israel looked down into
the street; there, near the opposite lamp-post,
was a man looking up at the house. Who could
he be? Israel had forgotten the father of the
boys, and did not think of him then.
Again he looked out into the scene before him
*How had he come here? What had hie life
been ? What desires and ideas had animated
him since childhood ? Had he been different
to other men ? Brought up without parental
care, endowed with an imaginative tempera
ment, had he not rather isolated himself from
man and society to plunge into the vortex of
life's passions, when his own inner nature was
formed and oould no longer be changed ? To
him all around seemed strange in this life of
western Europe. There seemed harmony want
ing, equal development. It seemed a striving
mass of humanity--who should be richest,
highest, best; in fact, who should be most suc
cessful and leave most behind ! It became evi
dent to him that he mnst here be misunder
stood, for he could not comprehend the desire
to be in comfort while others were miserable.
For a while Israel's thoughts had drifted away
from that all-engrosring new subject—his love
for Lady Gertrude-bnt suddenly her image ap
peared before him, as she had looked up at him
from below. The mighty longing of a human
soul for its mate came over his spirits; enticing,
charming, bewildering, maddening appeared
that youthful figure, there, right before his eyes.
He stietched out bis hands, be wanted to play
with those wavy masses of hair, he wanted to ea
rn s those rosy fingers, draw to him that sweet
form imprint a kiss on those charming smiling
lins ’ Ah horror ! the lovely image turned from
him, declaring that it detested him for-his
“SWdrops welled up into Israel’s eyes;
slowlv they rolled down his cheeks—he knew it
and felt it .that aversion could not be overcome.
Lady Gertmde.bad she gone as far as the altar,
would from it have turned a mad woman ;some-
SSg had evidently bo deeply impressed her
‘I shall take a present to tbeconventfor yon.’
Pedro’s nature vacillated still, the jealous
blood would not De quelled; but Pedro would
anyhow not again fall back into dishonesty. So
much Israel knew. It was almost pitiful to see
the lad’s striving for goodness, and to read his
wish that the world should follow the Nazarene’s
teaching, yet in the same line trace the desire
for revenge on the boys, who, Pedro thought,
shared his master’s aflection. It was wrong to
expect that the wild tendrils of years of neglect
would he brought into the right direction in
stantaneously. Man, with his complex organi
zation, must be trained to the harmonious com
prehension of his duties to his fellows.
The boys seemed restless and shy, as if they
feared something; they ate little at their break-
t’sat money and marriage suited not each other,
when the first became merely a purchaser of the
latter, that nothing, not even her own great nas
cent love for Israel, could overcome this impres
sion.
Slowly and surely there crept over Israel a
sense of loss, the lifef-long loss cf sympathy and
lov«; hope vanished, desire disappeared, and
gaunt, crushing despair looked him in the face.
‘She i* gone, there is no hope,’ sounded those
inner words; ‘What bast then to do here longer?
Go from this civilized world that has other aims
than thine, and return from whence thou earn
est, taking with thee the remembrance of one
sweet imago.’ There and then Israel determin
ed to pass bn' once more through London
streets, and bid adieu to the Christian western
world, i f which, whatever wss great, geoan!
harmonious, he bad only seen one aide, the
money side; this jarred against hisjinner being,
it had made him fly f-om his Jewish relatives at
Naples, had nearly lost him his life with the gyp
sies in Spain, embittered even the cup of kind
ness in the convent, showed him the distorted
images of vicious men and unchaste women in
Paris, di'figured the grand faith of tli* old Jew
in Frankfort, and here in Englan 1 robbed him
of the only woman he coaid have intensely
loved ! Love and over-valne of money showed
him a neglected population in this powerful
land, and a selfish desire for gain, g«in, gain;
ah ! even a brutalizing tendency over the better
feelings of humanity. ‘Then, if I must bear the
curse of this wealth, I’ll hear it wuere it will not
fellow mo abroad and crush mo at home, I’ll
boar it on Mount Oiivet, remembering Him who
overturned the money-fables. preaching the
whiie a pure humanity and a living faith in God!'
So soliloquized Israel at last; his power was
spent, the pretty panorama of the park and
street became duller, dnsky clouds again shift
ed about overhead, and Israel with Irew from the
balcony, finding by one last look int > the street
that the ame man was still staring up at the
house.
Exhausted and spent, Israel threw himself on
his couch, v. About undressing; he cared not for
the rniDor concerns of his own person He beam
the even breathing of the vagrant boys from the
next room; he almost envied them their help
lessness and poverty. Sleep did at last close bis
eyes, to reproduce in the brain—unaided by the
corrective power of the senses—the same imagee:
dreams of Lady Gertrude surrounded by big
money-bags that finally crushed her.
Morning will coma, and morning does come,
however onr own individual nature may
wish darkness to remain on the world that we
may hide our sorrow and trouble under its cloak.
A bright, joyous morning came, and woke Israel
from his fitful sleep. Ohlthesonse of loneli
ness that overcame him as the sun flooded the
room with light and lit up every nook and cor
ner of it Conld he but have been annihilated
that moment! Was that his religion ? What
makes suicides? What feeliDgs must actually
predominate that we should terminate existence?
Powerlessness. As long as piwer exists, hope
exists—and hope is the vital spring of life.
Israel took a bath, dressed, and wont out
Strange ! a man seemed hanging about the house
like the one who bad stood opposite, at the
lamp-tost, last evening. He e :ci»ed Israel’s
attention: but his mood was not tnen to speak
to anyone, so he let him pass. Info the Park
wandered the young Jew, to ruminate there.
How many sorrow-laden hearts wander into
that Part, th’re to ease their troubles!
Isr ei cal ed the boys, vrho dressed and oame
to him. By that time the post arrived; two
letters for Mons. Israel Torriano, one in a neat
French lady's hand, the other in a sprawling
coarse hand. Israel opened the former and
read it carefully.
Poor Goun'ees ! she had fmsd re t and refuge
where those often seek it who bove missed the
straight road because no one eveT led them to
wards it. Israel heard again that ohanson of Be-
rauger’s. Jastnow, there wasswestaess in that
r^AolL; Iaiv«oiw
lenient; be began to feel his own weakness and
ia-doned the Conntessher faulty morality. Tne
erring sheep was h’ding its face from the cen
sorious crowd. Scour Ceci'e would be talked
about, pitied for her folly in becoming kb ir do
charite.and forgotten—certainly by her hus
band, perhaps by her admirers and lovers.
The letter with the sprawling address was
oponed—from Pedro! Israel sprang up to read it. 1
‘Ma stiomi), —I am in Paris, and I know
where she is; she escaped from the gipsies and
went into the convent where yon were nursed.
I had told them in the convent about her; I had
made efforts to communicate with her witbont
yonr knowing it. I had advised her if they
wanted to force her away to come to us. She
had been removed for sifety to another tribe
nearer the mountains, and from them she ran
away before they could get her,on leaving Spain
for Uogaria. Miserable and ill, she came one
day to the convent; there she is; t lere she waits
for me—for her brother—now grown, now near
ly a young man; perhaps one day her lover, her
hnsband. You, senor, despised our gipsy-
queen, ourZ’.llah—I shall adoie her; the world
is dark without her, the sky is bitch, the son is
red and glaring, the moon white and cold, tho
stars dull. Greater than all is my Zillab. You
loved not poor Pedro, for you took to others—
foreign beggars. You loved not sweet Zillah,
for I know yon cut your hand to braak through
the glass for one look at the foreign woman.
But we, poor gentiles, poor gipsies—we shall be
more faithfal. We shall sit on the knoll and
think of you and the great Nazsrene Teacher;
we shall repeat yonr words, aDd never forget
that you, senor, taught us to be forgiving. Zil
lah would have been yonrs, senor; she will be
mine now, I know; they dare not bring her
from Malaga. There I shall be able to earn my
bread honestly, and Zillah will share it; now
my sister, perhaps one day my bride.
•Forgive me that I ran away; I took but the
money yon gave me. Had I not gone I should
have strangled those brata; no teaching conld
have held me baok, fer I adored you, maestro,
and the tears come into my eyes when I think
of you. Zillah and I will often weep together,
for the sweet words of onr teacher changed our
souls. Oh! had they come earlier they would
have made me quite good; as it was, I escaped
when temptation came to me through j salons
feelings.
Dear senor go, teach more; oh teach all the
world how the Nazarene loved it and died for it,
and how the world does not know it, bat goes
on all the same—no kindness, no pity. Dear
maestro, don’t despise puor, jealous Pedro, he
loved you in his fashion; and fer Zillah’s sake,
he will love you evei and ever!
‘I am now going quick, quick to her. I found
the letter from the convent with my friend who
has helped me to write this.
‘Addio, addio, addio,
‘Pedeo Zadillo.
The man took no notioa; he tore at the chil
dren. ‘Let go!'resounded once more in a ter
rible voioe, and down oame from that towering,
maddened figure of a man, a blow—a blow of
Moses—a blow to protect the helpless weak
from the strong. Israel gave the blow—the man
fell with a heavy thnd, striking his head against
the pavement, and lay sprawling in the road
way.
‘I told ye to interfere, perliceman; it’ll be too
late now.’
They rushed to him; they bent over him; they
lifted and dragged him up; like lead he fell
baok—the man was dead! They shook him
again, they felt him all over—no use, the man
was dead! Then sounded soreams. ‘Send for
a doctor!’—some hurried eff; others, ‘Sonnd
your rattle!'—the policeman sounded his rattle.
‘Take the gent in charge, and the boys, too!
They looked round—Israel and the boys were
gone. No one had seen them leave.
‘I believe they belongs to the hotel there—
the big place.’
Some men ran there. ‘The gent here ’as killed
a man, father of the boys?’
‘Don't know what you mean,’ said the
waiter.
‘Soon will know; there comes the Inspector.’
‘The posse now came up, hut no Israel was
found.
‘Shall soon have him, he can’t escape,’ said
the inspector, sententiously, passing through
the crowd, and giving orders to have the body
removed on the stretcher.
As people passed, asking what was the mat
ter, they had the answer:
‘A gent killed a man, to rob him of his boys;
fast, and were disinclined to leave Israel's side.
Cards, letters of invitation, congratulations at
his arrival, had been pouring in since the pre
vious day; all were put aside as useless. Israel
rose from his meal unrefresbed; the morning’s
brightness filled every corner of the room and
almost mocked tho sadne«8 of his soul. He walk
ed up and down, he stood before the window,
he heard the bustle in the street; he conld s*and
it no longer, he must kDow ones more if Lady
Gertrud* wonld see him or not. A grand, fierce,
uncontrollable desire look hold of him not to
lose that anchor in his life so easily, not to give
up the woman he loved for gold,not to renounce
man’s right to his mate like a coward. He look
ed at his dress, warned the toys to wait for him
there, and was off. He ran, as it were, to the
Earle’s house; he arrived breathless. A carriage
was at the steps, a plain, sombre carriage. He
knock'd.
‘Can I see Lady Gertrude this morning? Say
it is Mons. Torriano, and that he must see her.’
His great eyes swam in fire his nostrils were
extended like a noble beast’s that is to lose h»s
yonng; the porter almost recoiled from him.
’Please, sir, poor Lady G.vtrude is very ill,
dangeronsly ill; she knows no one, not even her
hither, the Earl. The doctor is here, for her
ladyship is delirious; didn’t yon see the blinds
down up stairs? But here comes her maid.’
A decent woman approached them saying:
‘Oh, sir, if you are Mons. Torriano, Lady
Gertrude raves about you: she calls you to her
and drives yon off every two minutes. It is pi
teous to see her; oh, it is dreadful to hear her
screams out against money -ind human slaves
and buying women, and all that, and wish for
the grave. She was so good, so kind, so happy
bat a little while ago, and we servants adored
her. What have yon done to her? Tub Earl is
quite mad, he would let her marry anyone now,
but the doctor says it is too late. He fears the
west’
Israel stared at the maid; he glared aronnd
him; he could not understand this heart-break
ing among human beings, he could not realize
the awful consequences of our crooked, thought
less civilization. At that moment a loud shriek
rent the air.
•Oa, let me go, I must fly to her; she is scream
ing again.’
Those the shrieks of his Gertrude; that the
lovely fresh girl he had met at the Frankfort
station, nursing the wounded s i et child ? No,
no—it was all a dream, a terrible nightmare. He
was cot there in her father’s hall, he was away.
Another shriek, a third. Israel conld not bear
it; he fell down on the man’s seat and sobbed,
sobbed, sobbed the great broken sobs of a hu
man heart that wants to tear its heartstrings
from the earth, from false humanity, from the
idle world that wants to be given back to it"
maker—for peace. Weary at last, he laid his
head on his arm to gain quiet. The porter
wiped his eyes.
•Poor, poor, young things, what an awful
thing for the Earl to hinder ’em. Poor things,
why isn’t they poor in pocbeo. then nobody
would mind,’ mumbled the porter.
The shrieks had ceased, perfect quiet reigned
in the house, not a sound was heard, bnt now
and then the shutting of a door. Israel was
about to leave when footsteps were descending
the stairs; he looked up, it was the Earl and
another gentleman. The two confronted each
other; th« Earl came towards the young man
livid with rage. i
•B9goue, Jew, yon have drixs©,.ray ohild mad
with yonr fantastical ideas. 'Who asked your
money? Not I. Go this moment, be eff; or, so
help me Heaven, I shall not keep my hands off
yon, old as I am.’ The old man shook in every
limb, the doctor stepped forward,bnt was push
ed back, and with threatening fist, the Earl
went closer up to Israel. ‘Begone, I tell you;
turn him out, porter.’
Israel held up bis hands to his head; was he
going mad too ? That her father, that the doc
tor ! where was he ? Oh, let Vte-Ay, fly from
so much wrong ancT imset’V, dra^u.rala'aot heip
her then. He moved his lips in sfe inarticulate
way and sprang to the door; in an instant he
was out of the house.
‘Oh, the coward!’ sneered the Earl; he did not
understand the greatness that made Israel go.
The young Jew stormed rather than walked
back; wherever should he find rest again? A«
be neared the hotel he saw a crowd; he approach,
he looked about him. His boys were there,
clinging to the lamp-post, while the same man
whom he had seen the night before, was trying
to drag .them away and a policeman stood by
looking on with the rest.
•Want is this?’ asked Israel, sternly.
•Oh, sir! please, sir, dear, s ; r! it’s father, coma
to letch ns.’ And both the boys tried to rush tc
Israel.
‘How dare you touch the children ?’
‘They are mine by right—I am their father,
and they shall come home.’
‘Oi, no, sir!’ cried the ohildreu, ‘don’t let ns
go; he’ll take the clothes and sell ’em, ana we
will be naked. And he will send na out to beg,
sell matches and take what we can get. Oj,
sir, don’t!'
‘L“tthem go this instant!' roared Israel.
‘He has a right—he's the parent,’ some 0110
oried. ‘He hasn’t—he's a lazy brute,’ came from
another. ‘Why don’t ye interfere, perliceman?’
called a third. ‘Come now, let ’em go with the
geat; he’ll give ye some coin,’ a fourth said, to
the man.
•I'll have noDe of it,’ rejoined the father—
‘none of of it. Tney’s my brats, and they shall
remain my brats, to do with as I like and ai
the law allows. Suppose I chose to make them
beggars, why shouldn’t I? Thoy’s my flesh
and blood, and my property. Come along boys,
ont of this row. I won’t even take chink from
tho fine chap; I‘11 have my property’
The man once more dragged ncconthly at the
boys, one by the sleeve, one by the hair.
•Let go! sounded from a hoarse throat—it was
Israel’s' ‘Let go those children, yon wrntoh!
funny, isn’t it ? Lord bless ns, what don’t ye
see this world of onr’n.’
Israel and the hoys came panting to Baron
Torriano’s honse, who was just ready to leave
for the city, about to make a call on his cousin.
Israel’s pale face, the boy’s scared countenan
ces. said that something was wrong. The Baron
quickly led them in.
‘What is it, cousin? quick, I know it is urgent,
my extra sense tells it me; quick.’
‘I have killed a man, I believe; the father of
the boys. Is it my fault or society’s? I don’t
know. Cousin, let me go, I cannot go to prison.
Let me go; lie will judge me. Take care of the
boys, promise that. Moses shall send money
for them. Oh, let me go. Lady Gertrude is
mad, and la murderer; can misery go farther ?
Let me go, I tell you.’
A few words from the Baron to his private sec
retary, a roll of bank notes placed into his
hand, ferae! wrapped in a large overcoat, pushed
into the waiting brougham with the secretary—
off they went. The boys as quickly takeD away
by the confidential servant in a cab, and all is
still. A heavy knock at the door. Enter in-
speotorand policeman, wish to see Baron Tor
riano. The Baron appears, begs a few minutes
private conversation, denies his cousin to have
been there, though they may have directed the
inspector so at the hotel; believes Mons. Tor-
riaDO has rnshed else where, should think was
scouring the parks; says something very confi
dentially, gives some hints, and dismisses the
inspector very much quieted indeed. That
whole day search is made, and in vain. The
secretary took a steamer just leaving at tst.
Katherine's Dock; no rail was the Baron’s ad
vice; the two arrived in Holland. Here Israel
was placed in a vessel trading to the Mediterra
nean. He had somewhat recovered from the
stnnniDg effects of the last scenes, and conld be
left to take care of bimseif. The secretary re
turned home; the affair had made a noiss; Isra
el bad not been found; detectives had been to
Paris without result, on the Baron's instigation;
the coroner had found 'Death to have resulted
from congestion of the brain, accelerated by a
blow given by a foreign gentleman.’ The mat
ter was talked about. ‘Foolish, he didn’t stand
his ground; ho wonld have been got off some
how,’said the wiseacres, not knowing that Is
rael would not have understood being got off.
He preferred a life-long exile from a world with
which he was not able to agree.
In Naples, a sweet woman, dressed quietly
and handsomely, is known as ‘La Signora;’ she
ministers onto all. Her father, rich Jacob Tor
riano, died of apoplexy, leaving his daughter,
Rebecca, solo inheritrix of his fortune' This
fortune provides for hundreds; Christians and
Jews are alike to ‘La Signora.’ Not unreasona
bly she bestows her gifts, bnt furthers every
good work, lightens every sorrow, brings her
soft voice and classical face to every door. 'La
Signora’ became in a couple of months the
adored goddess of the poor and needy, the
helper of all. In the evening, when the glow of
the sunset is on the gulf, and you can see
Mount Vesuvius in the distance pointing into
the clouds, ‘La Signora' sits at her window
singing her Hebrew songs to her harp, old Sa
rah behind her wiring her tears. I-rad is
freely mentioned b* t veen them; no reticence
is used, for the true peace has reached Rebecca’s
heart; the peace that has pnt away ‘passion.’
When Rebecca heard Israel's fate, she covered
her face and wept heavy sorrowing tears.
‘Shall wa find him?’ said Sarah.
‘Nn,’ Rebecca shook her head. ‘He has loved
another. I would my love were not tried again,
but died, as it has nearly done, a virgin death.
I cannot comfort him, as he will be comforted
by tho companionship of his oten faith; let him
be, God will grant him a resting place.’
Many were the suitors that turned from
Rebecoa's door.
A few months affer Israel's sudden escape
from London, a pale English lady, with cropped
hair, applied at St. Mary’s for entrance as hos
pital nnrse. She had not long recovered from
brain fever, and nothing, not the prayers of all
her family, oould persuade her to remain an in
mate in the Earl's house. Lady Gertrude became
a nurse of the bodily s : ck that she might forget
her mental sickness. She never ever wished to
see Israel Torriano again—she never would have
been his. Her lamp of life wonld not be a long-
burning one; even now the angel had marked
her pure brow. Like a saint who had suffered,
she moved among the sufferers of the hospital,
waiting her call
Jerusalem lay again in a hazs; the splendid
panorama swam in amaze of vapors; great deep
streaks bordered the horizon; over the town in
the distance, over minaret and temple, over
convent and church, hung the varified Eastern
sky—luminous, brokeD, quivering—telling of
the great and constant life and change of tho
Universe. The scene here was used to sorrow
a little more or less would not change it, or
take away an atom from its natural beauty.
Jerusalem would remain Jerusalem—a way-mark
for humanity, a great mark on the life of mortal
men, standing pillar of development, a remem
brance of love, of sacrifice, of the life of a great
nation, of the downfall of a noble people—a
place to hope for still—a place whose name
never can die ont as long as man can know what
history means!
A man, worn and spent, with tattered clothes
and shrunken limbs, came along -it was Israel
Torraino. Months he had wandered—months
his soul had found no rest. He came to lay down
his sorrows whore he had started from -on the
Mount that still bore the imprint of his dear
Master’s feet.
A murderer, even if not in intention, he call
ed to himslef—the slayer of a fellow-being. For
what ? A passionate desire to right the world.
The cansr of a lovely girl’s madness. Why?
Because she would not wed with the money-
taint on him. What had he done to be a lost
murderer on the face of the earth ? Gone forth
unprepared among the world’s ways, negleced
its behests, trodden on its customs, misunder
stood perhaps the goodness that was in it, be
cause he set himself above it. Oh ! he felt it;
sorrow must befall all who cannot gently deal
with mankind even in its evil ways guiding it
to better ones by degrees. No enthusiast will
do good, no idealist reform, no despiser of men’s
ways teach; man must develop step by step,
as God created and formed the Universe step
by step, from the lower to the higher; till the
day will come when all, of whatever creed and
whatever faith, will recognizs that living on
one planet, having one home, means being
brothers and sisters.
Israel stood there on a mountainous rocky
shelf overlooking the town, his beloved Jerusa
lem. He panted with joy to see it; his pale,
worn faoe shone again with the light of his soul,
his arms stretched for comfort to the saint-moth
er of his childhood and boyhood, his home. Oh,
had he never left it for the western civilization,
which he could not understand, be might now
rest there again an innocent man, not a suffering
one ! Good God ! what conld he do to compen
sate for his deed ? Money he knew had been
sent largely. Here he wanted to weep out his
sorrow to the teacher who had taught ‘patience
in suffering' to all.
And so he stood—he had studied the creeds
and failed. He came back to no creed, bnt to
the pare, simple understanding of the Naza
rene’s words. For him no more creeds; for him
no more distinction; but his soul would com
mune with the highest, the greatest, the unat
tainable, in sweet, lofty Jerusalem there before
him. He raised up his hands, he lo k-d into
the vapory sky, he asked for God's voice to come
down on him in the spirit, and say: ‘My sod,
my son, I have forgiven thee; be modest in fu
ture. it is not given to man to set himself above
his fellows.’
(CONCLUSION.)
THE CHURCH.
The Doings And Sayings in
The Religions World.
Is your standard of Christian duty higher than
when you first began to serve God?
God first refines the heart to fir. it to receive hi s
lovely image, and (hen, by the operation of his
Spirit, completes his glorious work.
Rev. Thomas Muse, of Cuthbert, will reside this
year at Arlington, Calhoun county, Georgia. lie
requests friends to address their letters to him ac
cordingly.
Pope Leo is bonding his energies to affiliate the
church with the German Empire. He has instruct
ed his priests and bishops to pray for the emperor s
spiritual and political welfare.
The late Governor General of India, Lord Law
rence, says that ‘missionaries have done more 10
benefit India than all other agencies combined.’
Which Sir Bartls Frere supplements by saying
that, ‘they have worked changes more extraordi
nary for India than anything witnessed in modern
Europe.
Dr. Bennett, President of Randolph Macon Col
lege, is doing a doubly good work by getting the
Sunday-schools to contribute toward paying off its
debt. He is getting aid for the college and devel
oping an interest in the minds of children in behalf
of the enterprises of the Church.
O, the anguish of that thought, that we can never
alone to our dead for the stinted affection we gave
them, for the light answers we returned to their
plaints or their pleadings, for the little reverence
we showed to a sacred human soul that lived so
close to us, and was the divinest that God has given
us to know!
Bishop Simpson’s Yale lectures on preaching
are good. Though spiced a little with occasional
flashes of humor, their tone is worthy of the
august theme, In reading these lectures we are
reminded of a remark made to us twenty years ago
by a Southern Methodist Bishop not less noted for
pulpit eloquence : ‘I cannot preach unless I am
happy in God.’
A Methodist Conference may sometimes be called
a ‘ruminating’ body—their countenances are
thoughtful and their jaws keep moving. Many of
them use the Nicotian weed, and if it does not pro
mote reflection, it docs give a meditative and phil
osophical air to the masticator.
The Rev. A. II. Sautherland, Superintendent of
Mexican Border works, thinks that ‘our mission
aries are working uu ter encouraging circumstan
ces.’ He asks sympathy and support, that pros
perity may increase. Texas, with her five Confer
ences so greatly blessed of God, ought to see to it
that nothing be wanting to the Border work.
Many of the leading ministers of Baltimore aro
out in ‘An Appeal to the Churches.’ The object
of the appeal is ‘to invite Christians throughout
the country to join them ia prayer and evangelistic
effort during the month of January, looking to the
outpouring of God s spirit upon our entire people.’
Let it be burnt into the conscience cf the Amer
ican people—so eager to get and to enjoy the riches
of earth—that no one is more certain to die, to die
to every generous emotion, to die the everlasting
death, than the man who, increasing in wealth, de
creases in ; benovclence; who, advancing in aze,
recedes, fram love-.who, blessed of God with every
earthly bietssing, forgets the hand that helped Lim,
and the brother at his door committed by that
hand to his charge.
It has always appeared strange to us why good
ministers will persist in preaching such long ser.
mons when short ones please everybody nest. It
requires a more than ordinary smart, eloquent man
to say very interesting things which will enlist the
attention of an audience more than thirty min
utes.
Do not long dry sermons keep children from
church, and as a means of grace from HeaveD.
Mr. Wesley advises against, preaching ‘too long
and too loud.’ So does the ‘Wesleyan’ and other
sensible people. But a little girl, four years old
October last, daughter of a friend of the ‘Wesleyan’
in a Georgia city, has thrown new light on the
subject. Mama asked her a Sunday or two ago:
‘Well, pet, how d d you like Mr. ’s sermon?’
‘Not much,’ replied little wisdom, ‘he preached so
long I got sleepy, and he preached so loud I
couldn't go to sleeps ! ’ Who can beat that for
neatness and analysis?
People who do not believe in prayer lo3e a won
derful rest and refuge. When time and space, the
wants, the bitterness, or the duties of life, separ
ate us from those we love so far that our help
is useless to them, our voices silent, our eyes blind;,
when we know that suffering, illness, danger,
death, may lie in wait for them every hour, and no
strength or longing of ours can avail to help them,
where do they fly, what hope or comfort do they
have, who cannot give their beloved into the safe
keeping of an omnipotent God; who cannot pour
out their tortured and anxious hearts to Him who
heareth and answereth prayer?
By fearing God, is meant to fear to offend b im
and to offend him is sin : and this is not of fear,
but of love ; who that. Ioveth anyone, doth not fear
to do him harm ; and the more he Ioveth him the
more he feareth it? Without this fear, love is
lifeless and superficial, appertaining to the thought
only and not to the will.
« r Blessed is the man who has found his work; let
him ask no other blessedness. Know thy work,
and do it; and work at it like Hercules. One mon
ster there is in the world, the idle man.
Trials and sorrows make us feel our dependence,
and work in us tenderness of spirit and humble
submission to the will of God. Toey are the med
icines that God sees we need and that with his own
hand he weighs out to us; and they are for the
healing of the soul.
Oh ! how many precious moments are wasted in
softness and self-indulgence, in frivolous pursuits,
in idle conversation, and in vague and useless rev
erie, which, if rightly improved, might tell upon
the world’s destiny and the Redeemer’s glory !
Accustom your children to a strict attention to
truth, even in the most minute particulars. If a
thing happened at one window, and they, when
relating it, say that it happened at another, do not
let it pass’ but instantly check them ; you do not
know where deviation from the truth will end.
Look out for a people entirely void of religion ;
and if you finil them at all, be assured they are
but a few degrees removed from the brutes.
But do any of us, alas! pass from the old and
enter upon the new year with the burden of un
pardoned sin upon our souls ? Let us also ‘thank
God and take courage.’ Thank him that we are
not worse than we are; thank him that we have
been restrained from more and greater sins. Thank
him for his ‘exceeding great and precious prom
ises;’ for his assurance of pardon—full and abso
lute.
r v*
;h