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THREE DOLLARS PER ANNUM.
VOL. XXXIII. NO. 25.
Original
To the Author of “Stray Leaves.”
Oh, humble follower of Him, who trod the Mount —
Thou, who hast deeply drank of that Parnassian
Fount;
We hail, with rapture, all the flowings of thy pen,
But most, we love, thy Christian charity for men.
To all the warring Churches, what a mild rebuke
Contained within the simple teachings of thy book!
And like the flame, which in the Jewish Temple
rose,
Acceptable to God, in every chapter glows
That fervent, earnest, piety—the gems of thought,
With rainbow hues of heaven’s own radiant glory
fraught.
In all thy written, as thy spoken, words, ’tis felt
That thou, within the Temple’s Inner veil hast
dwelt.
Disciple true of Him, who Calvary’s Mountain
trod;
We hope to kuowiu that fair “City of our God,”
Thine own pure soul. Then be war's banner ever
furl’d,
Thy heart will fold in one embrace the Christian
World. Episcopalian.
Contributions.
Moderation —Total Al»»tii»ence—
Intemperance.
It has came to my knowledge, from sev
eral reliable sources, that some of my friends
are greatly disquieted at my article on “Mod
eration” —a moral obligation. This infor
mation greatly surprised me, as I think
complainants are all ardent friends of tem
perance, while in my article I was warring
against thw immoderate use of tobacco, and
that only in as for as Methodist preachers
were involved, which led mo to say, that
while I thus denounced this immoderate
use of tobacco, still I Would neither join
nor advocato an anti-tobacco association,
with the pledge of total abstinence as a con
dition of fellowship annexed, whether as to
ministers or members. This I did begtpise
of a sound Scriptural principle of action, on
the question of practical moral obedience.
I did not see—if tobacco could be used at
allwithout infracting moral law —if used
always in moderation —how any one could
fulfill this specific rule of moderation, by a
vow of total abstinence. Total abstinence is
not practical moderation ; therefore practi
cal moderation as a Christian virtue, cannot
be compassed by a vow of total abstinence.
The injury being done to the man himself
by the narcotic poison of tobacco, and the
injury dono to other unwary lovers of the
quid and pipo, may be averted by a vow of
total abstinence, and great good result, pro
vided its advocates take the ground that
the total abstinence policy is not adopted to
fulfill the law of practical moderation and
temperanoe in the use of things lawful —but
as a guarantee against all the evils induced
by the abuse of things lawful.
Herein is the ground and reason for tem
perance pledges, and associations. Not
that total abstinence from all intoxicating
drinks is practical, personal temperance—
which religious rule of faith and practice
doubtless refers chiefly, if not exclusively,
to those tliingß which may be used, but also
can be utterly given up without detriment
or wrong doing. Such are all our luxuries,
such, for instance, ns tea, coffee, wine, and
such like. Strong drink Ido not allow to
be classed among the luxuries of human
life. It is an infatuating, delusive charm,
by reason of its violent narcotic action on
the nerves and brain. It is one of the wau
ton inventions of man, consequent upon his
relapse from primeval uprightness. Ido
not believe so of pure wine. It is the juiee
of the grape, without any concentration of
the deadly alcoholic principle. I can never
classify pure wine with distilled spirits as
a luxury, so long as tlio miracle of turning
water into wine by Christ’s own will and
power at a marriage feast is before my eyes.
I know Christ never set an example that
should be ignored now, nor fed an appetite
which ministered to indulgences, evil in
themselves. And this creation of wine was
no delusion, for the governor of the feast
pronounced it choice wine. It is very cer
tain, I think, that Christ drank wine among
the publicans and Pharisees. For it would
have looked very strange, after opening his
miracle working power in the creation of
wine to bo drank ns part of a marriage feast,
that he should have set himself up for total
abstinence from wine—the pure juice of the
grape—when used as he had just made it to
be used. Indeed, the reproachful charge
against him, that he was a glutton and a
wine bibber, was no doubt predicated of the
fact that he did eat flesh and drink wine,
according to the authorized practice of the
Jewish economy. It being always under
stood, as our great example, that he never
did any thing because it was of the world,
but because it was of the Father—assuring
his disciples and ns, that he was not of the
world—and declaring that in the same way,
that as he was not of the world so his disci
ples must not be of it.
I confess that those things, which have
turned up in the way of divine development
and gone to record as special specimens so
historic persons, make their distinctive im
pression upon my mind, as land marks not
to be wholly ignored by us in our warfare
upon a gross and base intemperance. As
for instance, John camo neither eating nor
drinking, and they said he had a devil.
Here was a man abstemious enough, one
who drank no wine. But his abstinence
was construed into diabolical possession.
The Son of man came eating and drinking;
and they said behold a man gluttonous and
a wine bibber, a friend of publicans and sin
ners. My inference is, that we are not re
quired to wave those things which the un
reasonable enemies of good men will seize
upon to damage their reputation—things
which custom and usage have settled as
right and which are done in full view of the
practical obligation of temperance and mod
eration. From these things, I say we are
not bound to abstain, on account of the
presence of false accusers. If Christ used
the wine of Palestine beoause it was a part
of the usual meal and of course divinely
sanctioned, he did it knowing that these
eavesdroppers and informants would report
him as a wine bibber—perhaps to justify
themselves in intemperate wine bibbing—
which was simply the abuse of a blessing,
instead of the right use of it—which use of
it Christ evidently intended to sanction.
My dear disquieted friends will say, what
does the Doctor mean ? Well he replies,
that he means to rescue temperance, if he
can, from all false and untenable premises,
and place it on a self-sustained basis.
The true basis of temperance pledges and
associations is found in Paul’s definite de
termination, that the lawfulness of a per
sonal liberty is not the measure, of it. It
must be measured and determined, by the
expediency of it. Now, the law of expedi
ency is the fitness of things to bring to pass
the end aimed at, or to accomplish some
good in others—in view of which we our
selves are to live as examples to them. What
avails it then, if a man prates about philan
thropy—the love of mankind—and still lives
for himself, eating and drinking irrespective
of all possible influenoe which his example
might have upon unwary minds, minds al
ready ensnared in the dangerous love of in
toxicating drinks ? What though he should
stilt himself on the plea that all that I in
dulge in, my wine or champagne, or what is
far worse, my brandy—is lawful for me, and
then go on and prove his premise true, on
the ground of practical temperance (mode
ration,) as between himself his conscience
and his God. Do his obligations to his
race rest here ? No; the true Christian
philanthropist, who loves mankind, not
merely on account of race, but because of
the great love wherewith God hath loved
him—counting a man’s value from the esti
mated value of the soul, in its purchase price
in Jesus the crucified —says, my liberty as a
Christian philanthropist is not measured to
me entirely by the personal lawfulness of
what I do, but by the relative effect of my
•sample upon all conditions of human life.
If, therefore, my lawful use of wine can be
so quoted and so used, as to be the occasion
of betraying any one into intemperance, my
lawful indulgence becomes fearfully inexpe
dient. Fearfully inexpedient in this, that
if I am looking after the best interests of
my race as a Christian philanthropist, and
the question comes up, in view of the deso
lations of intemperance, whether it is safest
for me to govern myself by a pledge of to
tal abstinence from intoxicating drinks in
view of the greatest good to mankind, or to
plant myself obstinately, and of course sel
fishly, upon the ground that all these things
are lawful for me ; the answer willbe right
off, I should of course take the pledge of to
tal abstinence, because total abstinence is
insurance against drunkenness, while indul
gence is paving the way into.it. Hence ex
pediency becomes the law of moral respon
sibility to me; not because the indulgences
I cut off by my voluntary vow were unlaw
ful, but because an indulgence in them wasy
inexpedient, and as a means to inaugurate
universal sobriety. Therefore, lest this
liberty of mine should become a stumbling
block to others, I voluntarily vow not to use
the liberty, because it is inexpedient for me
to do this while I seek to bring about uni
versal soberness. By total abstinence from
all intoxicating drinks, in os far as my duty
in this humane effort is involved, I will dis
charge it on the" principle, that the most
available expediency ever tried against in
toxication, is the non-use of all intoxicating
drinks.
The divine declaration that no man liveth
unto himself, is the divine declaration, that
none of us ought to live unto ourselves. The
mind that was in Christ Jesus, is the mind
that must be in us also. This was the mind,
which cheerfully submitted to the greatest
amount of self sacrifice, when sacrifice was
expedient for the good of others. This is
the animus of every sensible man who en
ters into a strict temperance alliance—espe
cially those who enter in, not merely to
break from the fowler's snare, but to keep
mankind from ever being insuared therein.
And this every one will assuredly accom
plish, who takes the temperance, pledge nnd
keeps it.
It is lawful here—although it is painful to
allude to it—to say, that there are millions
of ruined souls now iu hopeless despair,
that would have escaped ruin, if in early
life they hud taken the vow of total absti
nence from intoxicating drink and kept it.
But being unwittingly decoyed from this
only safe anehorage ground—perhaps by a
father’s morning dram and dinner toddy—or
by falling into the hands of spreeful young
companions, they became habitual drinkers,
until the love of liquor made drunkenness
their hell here, and their doom of woe here
after. For “no drunkard shall inherit the
kingdom of heaven.”
And now, dear Doctor, if you will publish
this article in our dear Old Advocate —while
*it will perhaps not satisfy some disquieted
friends, it will act me right before my
readers, as to my views on temperance asso
ciations, and my warm affiliation with them.
I take the ground openly, that no man can
be less than an injurious member of society,
civilly, socially or religiously, who, in any
way, patronizes the uso of intoxicating
liquor as a beverage, whether he done it, by
manufacturing of it, trading in it, treating
customers with it, or drinking it Govern
ments will never bo right with God, nor
protective of the country’s weal, so long as
they allow the distillation of ardent spirits,
just as they do the manufacturing of cotton
goods. Whatever ministers to the country’s
hurt must be suppressed by government, or
else so far the country has no proper gov
ernment.
And last, and saddest .of all, even church
men deal in this mischeivous, deadly, dam
ning traffick as complacently as thoy do in
vinegar. Now, therefore, as the govern
ment licenses liquor dealers to help kill and
damn poor deluded inebriates, and the
churches have grown too loose upon the
liquor question—let me say unto you, ye
temperance soldiers, fight on.. If you give
up the ship all may be lost; but if you hold
on, the youth of the country will join your
army, and victory will crown your noble en
terprise. L. Pierce.
Tlic Local Preacher Controversy.
I am sorry, that justice to myself and my
position, requires that I should vindicate
myself through the Advocate, against certain
charges and insinuations contained in Dr.
E. M. Pendleton’s last article in regard to
local preachers, and to seek to remove some
impressions which that article has probably
made, impressions which do me great injus
tice. I furthermore regret exceedingly that
I am compelled to take so conspicuous a
part in this matter, for such was not my ob
ject in the short review I made of Dr. P.’s
first article, and I have no ambition to grati
fy in engaging in such controversies. lam
also aware of the danger of transcending
proper limits in the discussion of the issues
under consideration, and of treading upon
delicate and forbidden ground; and thereby
causing more evil than good to result.
Some subjects should be let alone, or han
dled very cautiously. The present is one of
that class. lam glad however that in the
present contest, “Greek meets Greek,” une
qual as the fight may be, and hope that if
any evil consequences follow, they may be
partial and not universal. I know I don’t
want to do any harm, and, from what I have
recently learned of the character of Dr.
Pendleton, I think his motives are certainly
good, and that he would not deliberately
and intentionally do me or any one else in
justice. - '
I am a Methodist from choice and from’
principle, and also feel that I am greatly in
debted to the Church and her mißisters,
itinerant as well as local; and among the
former are many of my best friends, and I
always have regarded them as the purest
class of men I ever knew. Many of them
are of “precious memory” to me, and I
ever shall revere the names of such holy
men as the lamented W. G. Alien, who
“taught my hands to war and *y fingers to
fight.” How unjust then, the insinuation
that I accuse them of preaching for money
among the hills and mountains of upper
Georgia! Far from it. They know that
they have always had my sympathies and
friendly aid in their privations, and my
humble co-operation in their arduous labors.
I feel assured of one thing; that is, that
many of them occupy fields of labor from
which others would shrink for obvious
reasons. I also know that the majority of
people in this section do not do their duty
in contributing to the support of those who
are sent to labor for them. But one fact
should be remembered in this connection —-
the people here are not so wealthy and re
fined as those in and around Sparta. My
position is, that we are bound as Methodists
to support those who devote themselves exclu
sively to the ministry, end at the same time
exercise charity toward those who preach as
much as they can, while they support them
selves. And I still contend that men can
be efficient as ministers, and at the same
time pursue secular employments. I refer
to the success of the Baptist ministry, as
another strong proof of the position assum
ed, and pursue the argument no farther; for
I consider that this Gibraltar is impregnable
still, notwithstanding it has been assailed
with Spartan valor. Come, Dr. Pendleton,
don’t persist in recommending the gag taw,
for if you do, you will do harm—to your
self if to no one else. Seek to destroy your
“man of straw” in some other way.
Now, a few words in reference to the
Dahlonega District-meeting in connection
with my humble self, and I have done.
That condemnatory resolution was passed
before my little article appeared in the Ad
vocate, and I was not present “aiding and
abetting” in its passage, but it met my hear
ty approval. Dr. Pendleton mistakes when
he considers that lam in command of the
Dahlonega District, or that I nm by common
consent its champion. So far from it, that
I havo never yet been elected even a lay
delegate to the Annual Conference, neither
have I ever sought the position. I act en
tirely upon my own responsibility, claiming
only the right to defend myself; and of en
tering my humble protest against what I
coneeive to be unjust to myself and others.
This is “the sum of my offending.’' If I
have done wrong, I pray that God may for
give me and enable me to do right; and may
I ever “love those who truly love the Lord
Jesus;” and
“ May we all with enc accord.
Labor lor onr common Lord.”
P. H. Brewster.
[Had the Editor been at home, the contro
versy on this subject would have closed, with
the articles intended for the consideration,
of the Delegates to the General Conference.
Dr. P. wrote primarily to call their atten
tion to certain important suggestions as he
esteemed them. Brp. B. took issue with
him, in time to havo his views presented to
the same body. There the matter properly
might have rested, and would —but for the
Editor’s absence, until after all else pub
lished had gone to press. Every body, who
knows what the Church owes to local
preachers, will seek only to guard that body
against Unworthy members, and to put
them in position of highest efficiency. Such
we presume to have been Dr. P.’s purpose—
himself a local preacher—through the Gen
eral Conference. That body has adjourned,
and the matter may be dropped.]
To the Colored People of the M.
E. Church, South.
| THIKD TAPER. ]
Dear Brethren:— Allow a word more of
advice iu your new circumstances.
You will now have upon yon, a resptmsi
bilily to God and the cause of Christianity,
such as you never had before. It is not the
civil government and temporal welfare of a
country, but the salvation of the souh of men
—tho religious interests of our race, that is
committed to your hands. You should cul
tivate a deep sense of this responsibility, and
that you must have grace and misdeem from
Heaven, to enable you to meet these obliga
tions. Let every one, therefore, live near
to God; and ask direction of him in all
your Church movements. Select your best,
holiest and wisest men to represent you, both
in your Annual Conferences, and in the
forthcoming General Conference. This rule,
which should always govern your actions, is
the more important in reference to your first
General Conference. If you can get holy
men of God; who are talented and educated
too, it will be preferable; but better have
holy, true men, with less talent and learning,
than to have talented, educated men, without
deep piety, men who are governed by ambi
tion, and a desire for the honor that comes
from man. If such men get the control of
your Church in the General Conference and
as Bishops, a great evil will befall yon. No
Church can prosper spiritually, controlled
by such men. See to it then, that your
chief men have the Spirit of the Master —for
“if ye have not the Spirit of Christ, ye arc
none of his.”
You will not need to make many altera
tions in the Discipline at your first General
Conference. You should make a few, to
adapt it to your circumstances; but I would
advise you to make as few as possible, and
let experience, within the next four years,
suggest the changes necessary, which you
can then make understandingly.
Some may be for changing the name.
Indeed it was suggested to us to do so for
you, at Memphis. In reference to the
whites, we did not think it best now to do
anything in that way—we hold all our
Church property as “the M. E. Church,
South;” and it might endanger our titles to
change the name. The same argument ap
plies to you. Moreover, we preferred, that
in organizing you should take the name of
the Mother Church; and if you found it
necessary to change the name, you could do
so, for yourselves. But I would advise that
unless there should be some very controll
ing reasons, you do not change the name at
your first General Conference; and no such
reason presents itself to my mind now.
You ought to elect one, and perhaps two
Bishops—not more than two. These should
be tried men, of deep piety,'sound judgment,
prudent, kind but firm., of the M. E. Church,
South, from principle, who both understand
and love her doctrines and Discipline, and
whose preaching talent will command the res
pect of the Church. Asa general rule you
will find, that no man who himself election
eers to be elected Bishop, or who gets his
friends to do it for him, is worthy of the
office. Put no ambitious aspirant into this
holy office, but do you select the man whom
Qodhas fitted far the work. Let it be a'sub
fect of prayer throughout the whole Church,
PUBLISHED BY J. W. BURKE A 00, FOB THE H. E. CHURCH, SOUTH.
MACON, GA.j FRIDAY, JUNE 24, 1870.
till your General Conference meets, that
God may direct in the election of yonr
Bishops. This is a matter about which we
have felt much concern, in setting you off
to yourselves—so much depends always
upon the Bishops of our Church, as to its
harmonious and efficient working in all its
departments; but especially will this be the
case, in the first years of your independent
existence as a Church. The Episcopacy of
the Methodist Church in America, has a
most honorable record—not a single stain is
to be found upon the character of any of its
Bishops—see to it, my brethren, that its
reputation is preserved in your hands.
Some modification of the standard of edu
cation, and the oourse of study laid down
in the Discipline for the ministry, may be
necessary in your circumstances. But allow
me to suggest, that you hold up the minis
terial standard as high as you can r without'
damage to the Church. It will aid you in
controlling ambitions mon who *lre not
qualified to teach the people. But yjiu must
leave the way open, to use tho man whom
God has undoubtedly called to preach his
Gospel; of which tho Church may be fully
satisfied. In your organizing state, you will
need all the true men you can command, and
your rule of education and study must not
force yon to reject such men. After a few
years you may raise your standard absolute
ly higher. It might be well, therefore, to
leave a large discretion with the quarterly
and annual conferences to make exceptions
in cases they may judge proper.
Finally, Brethren, maintain Wesloyan
doctrine and Discipline in their original pu
rity, and “follow peaoe with all men and
holiness, without which no man shall see
the Lord.” And may the God of all grace
keep your minds and hearts in Christ Jesus.
Yours in the Gospel of Christ,
J. E. Evans.
Sunset.
Masses of purple clouds and bars of gold
and crimson engirdlo the “old king of day”
with resplendant glory. Light falls from
his face in mellow subdued rays over the
world, which “after the heat and battle of
the day,” is composing itself for tho “night
of rest.”
There is silence everywhere, savo from
the woodland the soft notes of a bird warb
ling its plaintive lay, ere iu its slumber, un
dismayed by dreams, its eyelids close.
Northward looms a long blue line of moun
tains, like a barricade, severing this peace
ful vale from another, where, perchance, a
Rasselas has found contentment. Floods of
yellow light gild the old mountain’s brow
with a crest of gold, while many a wayward
beam glances amid the dimly outlined foli
age. Fields, like emerald seas, creep from
hillside to valley, and the golden light and
cooling zephyrs play “hide and seek” 'mid
the tender blades. Far southward float
! downy clouds that now roll like mist away,
then glimmer in the sunlight, and dazzle a
1 moment, ere they hie away to the islands of
the sea. . _ i
But the shadows lengthen— the mountain
has changed its gandy dres3 for one of som
bre hue. A light akin to darkness lingers
one short hour, then leaves the world with
its night.
Has tho great orb, which but this morn
ing rose in majestic splendor, and sent floods
of laughing light over the broad earth, found
a grave in a chaos of darkness behind the
hills ? Were these last faint gleams but the
dying glances of tho mighty monarch sink
ing into the gloom of the grave ? No ! a
thousand voices burst forth in song, and
from hill to valley the glad welcome re
sounds, “just on the other side.” Fresh as
the young heart’s hope, radiant as youth’s
bright dreams, the tireless king, flashes
millions of rays on a waking world.
*******
It is sunset for a human soul I The light
struggles for entrance into the dim, cur
tained room; amid its shadows forms, bear
ing the impress of grief, glide noiselessly
around the bed, and bending over the pal
lid face breathe words fraught with th«
heart’s woe and its deathless affection. Like
the last slow touches of some exquisite
melody, fall the low-murmured words upon
the dying ear—the fondest—the purest—the
last earth-voices may breathe —sacred link
in the golden chain of love binding the
sweetest harmony of earth to that of heaven 1
Buried memories, like shadowy phan
toms, rise from the post, and gathering
about them tbeir dusky robes of sorrow or
gossamer dress of happiness, pass sldwly,
one by one, before the mental vision—ghosts
of deeds, bidding a last earthly farewell,
then sink into darkness to rise no more un
til marshalled in that day they stand, “the
witnesses betwixt the soul and her God !
But see, the glad light in the fading eyes!
Heed the -words, scarcely whispered, but
heard, and by them we know earthly things,
earthly ones, are forgotten ! Forms pf light
outdo earth’s growing shadows music,
sweeter than that glorious concord when
“the morning stars sang together,” lures
the dear ono away from even the tender
earth-voices trembling in a fond farewell!
Time whose fair brow of peace was girdled
oft with thorns—Time, Eternity’s sole tutor,
like the passing breath, has fled away !
Standing beside the grave, blinded by
tears, deaf to all hope, fastened in the thick
darkness of grief, naught is heeded, save
“the going down of the sun.” These clouds
of darkness that encompassed the loved one
and bore him home—whither have they laid
him?
“There is no death; what seems so is
transition,” and angels bending low catch
up that unfettered soul and folding him to
their hearts of purity, pause not until they
stand,
"Where seraphs gather Immortality
On Life’s fair tree, fast by the throne oi God.”
Angela.
From the Sunday Magazine.
One Christ in Four Records:
A Popular Argument on a Point Recently
Started.
By A MEMBER OF THE SCOTCH BAB.
The identification of historical characters
is a peculiar process. It reminds one, alike
by resemblances and dissimilarities, of some
of the results of photography. I have before
me while I write, four faces, all photographed
on one card. But the same eyes of Thomas
Carlyle look with the same sad questioning
out of each, and I know that they are the
four faces of one man, -taken from different
sides. Again, there is another process by
which two pictures, photographic or other
wise, are so looked at through an instrument,
that in a few moments they gradually adjust
themselves and coincide; and then, not only
coincide, but actually stand out in solid and
bold relief. The process, in dealing with
history is a combination of both of these.
The descriptions we get of a historic charac
ter are not exactly the same, as the pictures
in a stereoscope are. They are rather all
different, like the four photographs on the
card. But though different, they. do lapse
afid flow into each other, and unite before
our eyes; and if they are true they not only
coincide, but there stands out before us in
solid result, a personality. And the more
numerous and the more various the true ac
counts are, the more certainly and surely
there remains to us a historical character in
dividual, person; with which —nay, with
whom—we, as individuals in history our
selves, may be called upon to deal.
Now the four records which have come to
our time under the names of Matthew, Mark,
Lake, and John, differing in many things,
agree in this; they are all intensely biograph
ical—but are full, brimful, to every verse and
clause, of the man whose life is narrated. No
doubt, if you take any one of them, you find
that, in the first place, it is not a large book,
and in the second place, that it is occupied
partly with narratives of action, and partly
with discourse. But then both the actions
narrated and' the words spoken turn out to
be so intensely characteristic of the subject
of the book, that in a short compass it suc
ceeds in giving far more real biography than
any written life that the world has yet seen.
Suppose you flung into the sea three out of
four Gospels, and keeping the one which you
consider most meagre, handed that to a mau
of learning and skill, well acquainted with
all literature, —I suppose that while he might
differ, as we all do, in his estimation of the
person whose alleged actions are recorded,
he would yet acknowledge freely that no
book, ancient or modern, contains such an
amount of concentrated biography, such a
wealth of characterization, as that surviving
Gospel. I know no documents that can at
all be compared to them in this respect.
Boswell, or any book of that sort, tells us
more of the hero’s coat, and countenance,
and wig, and turns of speech; but for all the
essentials of biography, for a transcript and
delineation of the person, it is meagre and
weak hearsay—a mere external, shadowy
outline—compared to that Gospel of St.
Mark. lam not at this stage assuming that
the Gospels or any of them are true; I am
merely asserting, what all will allow, that
they are formally and intensely biographical.
Observe then, what we have, at the very
commencement of our inquiry, as admitted
by all. Four most ancient historical docu
ments, each professing to give an independ
ent account, and each actually giving a
separate and various account, of one whom
all men admit to be, at the least, the greatest
of the sons of men, and the most influential.
The question that immediately emerges is
the most interesting in all literature, and the
most important in all history. Are these
four portraits, when brought together, so in
consistent as to blur or break liefore our
eyes; or are they so true as to become one,
nay, to become solid before us? Is it one
man who is contained behind them and re
vealed through them? Can we identify Him,
recognise Him, grasp his personality—and
retaining it, rotain Him as a possession for
ever?
Tho question is certainly sufficiently in
teresting, apart from any special or tempo
rary reasons. But it is also of peculiar in
terest at the present time. For tho last
hundred years there has been abundance of
inquiry into the Gospels as separato and
distinct writings; and it has been admitted
by all that while there is a characteristic
difference between even each of tho first
throe Gospels—Matthew, Mark, and Luke,
they are yet, on the whole, very like each
other, but are separated by a broad dissimi
larity from the one Gospel of John. Now,
this at once raises the question. For many
students of the Gospel hold strongly that
not only is the Gospel of John different from
the other throe, but that the conception of
Jesus there given is utterly different from
that given in the Synoptics—so different as
to bo irreconcilable. “ The difference is
such,”'says M. Ernest Renan, “that wo must
make choice in a decisive manner. If Jesus
spoke, as Matthew represents, he could not
have spoken as John relates. Between these
two authorities no critic has ever hesitated,
or ever can hesitate.” Turning from France
to Germany, I open the later Life of Jesus
by Dr. Strauss, and I find .that veteran ob ;
jector speaking of Dr. Baur thus: “It is the
imperishable glory of the immortal Dr. Baur”
to have shown that while the first three
Gospels may be traditions of Jesus, the fourth
is a mere fiction or poem, giving a quite new
and subsequent conception of Him; while
the “immortal Dr. Baur” describes the
work of the learned Dr. Strauss as an at
tempt, “first to overthrow tho Synoptics
(a. e. the first three Gospels) by means of
John, and then John by means of the Syn
optics.” And indeed, all our industrious
unbelievers seem to have held pretty fast to
this distinction, although they are iu the
direst confusion on other points. Dr. Baur
calls John “the most spiritual, but also the
most unhistorical of the Gospels.” Renan,
on the contrary, while he dislikes and mis
understands the spirit of John, admits that
“ his general plan of the life appears much
more satisfactory and exact than that of the
Synoptics”—“All the Gospels,” he says, “in
my opinion, date from the first centnry, and
the authors are, generally speaking, those to
whom they have been attributed;' but their
historic value is very diverseand he ascribes
by far most historical value, so far as narra
tion goes, to the Gospel of John, as contain
ing the true chronology and order, and
precise narration, evidently that of an eye
witness. ” Yot while admitting the pre-emi
nent historic value of John’s narrative,Renan
denies that the character delineated by him,
especially in the discourses, was the true
character of Jesus—and while admiring the
Jesus of the other Gospels, he speaks of the
conception of Him recorded in John with a
contempt indicating a singular mental inca
pacity. In Germany, the estimate both of
believers and rationalists is very different,
and Strauss (a man ordinarily of far lower
tone than Renan) laments very much that
“the Gospel of John, with its figure of
Christ, is more in sympathy with the present
generation, than the Synoptics with the fig
ure which they give ” —“ The modern Chris
tian,” he says, “feels himself specially
attracted by this Gospel,” which with its
“ pathetic nights, subjective emotion, and
pulsative feelings,” is “ the favorite Gospel
of our time.”
It appears, then, that without the Church,
as within it, some men admire most the face
given by John, and some the face given by
the three. But are the faces reconcilable?
or is it, in fact, one face seen through dif
ferent media of representation? Let us take
up our Gospels and look at them, not as his
tories, but as biographies—as portraits.
It is so far satisfactory, though to our in
quiry of very minor importance, that we
find the history or narrative of the Gospels
—the framework of the life as given by each
of the four—substantially the same. The
birth, the baptism, the Galilean residence
and circuits round the sea of Tiberias, the
parables, the miracles, the contest with the
Pharisees, the visits to Jerusalem at the
feasts, the last pilgrimage and entry, Ithe
betrayal and death, the resurrection ana as
cension, stand out prominently from {the
whole. In fact, there is no real difficulty
on this head, except for those who entangle
themselves with minute and mechanical
theories of inspiration. If might have been
awkward if John, the great upholder of the
divinity of Jesus, had been the only one who
gave an account of his miraculous birth, of
the divine voice at his baptism, and his su
pernatural temptation in the wilderness. As
it happens, John is the only one who does
not give an account of these, but commences
with his own personal reminiscences on the
banks of the Jordan as a disciple of the Bap
tist. Again, as John gives himself chiefly to
record not the joumeyings but the discourses
of his Master, and these generally not in
Galilee but at Jerusalem, it might have
been expected that his narrative and order
would have been less careful; whereas, it
turns out that his chronolocry and landmarks
are the most important of the whole, and
bind the narratives of the rest together. In
the general framework of the life, the out
standing points and course of the history,
there is really no difficulty to any common
sense comparer of the four Gospels, nothing
to prevent us from going on to the most at
tractive subject in the world—the character
istics of the person whose history is nar
rated.
A characteristic of a person is that which
belongs to him and to no other, on _ observ
ing which, every one who knows him says
at once, “ That is he.” It is that which is
proper and peculiar to the man; not com
mon to him with others. And it is that also
which is an essential of his character, not
an Sccident. It is not characteristic of a
man that he breaks his leg, or that he raises
a man from the grave. A characteristic
may be a very little thing—the trick of an
eye, the hang of a lip; or a very great thing
—a life-long habit of thought, a consum
mate and critical act. In either case it is
that in which the inmost nature and person
ality of a man come out; all the moro con
clusively if it be unconsciously.
Now what is asserted is, that we find in
these four records not only facts, but char
acteristics. Let us try.
I think no one can read the Gospels—any
one of the Gospels, any part of any one of
the Gospels—without being struck by the
calmness of assumption which Jesus displays.
It is not merely in direct assertion, not
merely in mighty act, but in every incident
of his life, every utterance of his lips, every
movement of his mind. I defy any man
with the least power ;of perception, or any
salt of literature in him, to read any half
chapter of the life of Christ, in any of the
records, and net feel rising naturally to his
lips the question which all who met Him of
old could not restrain, “ Whom makest thou
thyself?” For it is not merely assumption,
it is the calm of assumption—the self-con
scious, infinitely equal, marvelously poised
calm from within outwards, which is abso
lutely uniquo in history and in biography,
and at all events is characteristic.
Or take a still finer and more special pecu
liarity. Is tliero any one of the Gospels
■which we can read without being struck by
the voluntariness of submission peculiar to
JJpsus? His first recorded utterance after
boyhood, “ Suffer it to be so now, for
thus it becometh us to fulfill all righteous
ness,” is a porfeet expression of his spirit
toward all earthly authority, conditions, and
restraints. Not in one, but in every act of
his life, the voice, “Thou couldst have no
power at all over me, except it were given
thee,” sonnds audibly in our ear. Wo see
nothing like this in any other in history,
bat in his life it is perceptible to Jhe finest
and most microscopic edges of his smaller
actions.
Or, if you want some trait still more mi
nute and special, yet manifest all through,
take his attitude of refusing to plead before
all human authority. I say this position, as
carried through the life of Jesus Ohrist, is
absolutely unique, and is so deep within
and so universal in all his acts, as to be per
fectly characteristic. “Artthouakingthen?”
the people asked Him, surprised into con
fession by, the sublimity of his boaring; and
his whole attitude, not only towards men
around Him, but towards human reason,
human conscience, the Old Testament,evory
thing by which He was confronted and be
fore which He was arraigned, breathes tho
spirit, “Ireeeivo not testimony from men;
but those things I speak that ye might be
saved.” And even with regard to the greater
witness than that of John, when he speaks
of the Eternal One in such daring phrase as
this, “ There is another that beoreth witness
of me,” He oannot forboar the regal style,
“ And I know that tho witness which he
witnesseth of me is true.” And we are not
surprised or appalled, for tho same thing
flows out through every word and act in ev
ery one of the Gospels, and is Himself.*
But perhaps wo breathe here too high an
atmosphere. Let ns take some lower, yet
equally historical characteristics, pertaining
rather to the mind than to the inmost nature.
It may be said fairly enough that apho
rism is a mode of speech common to many
teachers and native to eastern lands. Yot I
challenge any one to tako up the Gospels
and say whether there is not a peculiarity of
aphorism, a form and manner of it, proper
to Jesus, recognisable and identifiable by us
as his. His aphorisms are crystallizations
of part of Himself. He spake in parables—
almost always. Not merely when they ran
into narrative or picture, but in each ab
struse word, and each common action, there
is a symbolism which is quite peculiar, and
that not merely beoause it is unique (though
that is true,)-but because it is personal. How
universal this is—how it extends to all the
Gospels, and to all details of them, need not
be stated. His actions, as well as words, are
all parabolic, and the inner meanings nat
urally suggested by the miracles of healing
alone, with the words and circumstances at
tending them, might occupy a poet for a
lifetime. John alone of the four narrators
seems to reflect upon this, while he narrates;
but the thing is equally manifest in all the
others, and equally characteristic. When
we find the simplest and most straightfor
ward of all historical characters hiding an
inner truth under an outer one in all his
words and teaohing, we recognise it as a
characteristic. And, if lam not mistaken,
there is also a peculiarity and personality
about his manner of doing it. Even in wb a t
may be called, in a subordinate sense, CR (.
style of speech, this is ouriously manif
There is, I think, an involution, and almost
retrogression of idea, which it is impossible
to define in words, but which you observe
in such sayings os these, “Who is my neigh
bor? Who then was neighbor to him, who
fell among the thieves?” “ Her sins, which
are many, are forgiven, for she loved much;
but to whom little is forgiven, the same
loveth little.” “The Sabbath was made for
man; therefore the Son of Man is Lord also
of the Sabbath.” “Forgive us our debts,
for we forgive our debtors. ” In studying
the four Gospels we always find how rarely
Jesus Christ gives a straightforward answer,
as well as how'far truer the answer which
He does give is, not only for all ages after
wards, but for the man with whom he deals
at the rime, than if He hodanswerod in a.
more obvious way.
Os course this comes out less in individu
al utterances such as these than in his man
ner of conducting, or rather of guiding a
whole conversation. Let any man take up
the conversation with the woman of Samaria,
the dealings with the disciples, the dealings
with tho Sadduoee inquirers or Pharisee
deputations, the dialogue with Nicodemus,
and say whether there is not in all of them
what is recognisable and identifiable as the
true historical style of Jesus. Were there
nothing else, the way in which He answers
not the words of men, but the thoughts of
their hearts, behind the words at the mo
ment, is a thing so intensely characteristic
of Him that 1 recognise it as I would recog
nise the manner of speech of mv own father.
It is enough of itself to make Him present
to us personally, and to lay on us some re
sponsibility of dealing with Him!
These are two or three among the many
characteristics of the person and of his style.
Suppose we look .next at the records with a
view to his relations to other men. No one
can do so, however cursorily and carelessly,
without being struck by at least some things
that separate this person from all others of
whom history gives any account; that iden
tify Him, beoause they are characteristics.
In the first place, in the earlier part of
each of the Gospels I have been struck by
what, for want of a bettor word, I must call
the public-spiritedness of this character.
The most compassionate of all men, He yet
most visibly lives, not for individuals whom
He meets, but for the people—for the race.
(This is one of the things which have been
brought out so strikingly, though one-sided
ly, in “ Ecce Homo. ”) There is no instance
in history of any man devoting himself to
the interests of others—of all men—in such
an absolute, unreserved, and universal man
ner as Jesus does from the time He began
to be about thirty years of age. He never
says that He does it, but all the more it
breathes from every word and in every act
in an unspeakably impressive manner, until
when, at a latter date, we read, “The Bon
of Man came not to be ministered unto, but
to minister,” we recognise the utterance of
his inmost life. How peculiar this is among
men, let those who read history judge; but
I wish to point out a more marvellous pecu
liarity still. This man, so surrendered to
his fellows, is in all his words, thoughts and
acts, the: freest from man of all beings. You
cannot read a fine without feeling a strange
inexplicable independence—a standing out
side and apart, a voluntariness of dedica
tion; which is found in all the Gospels, .in
every part of his life, in every thing he does,
and which is absolutely unique in the world.
These contrasts in the character are among
the most unquestionable and most conclu
sive things about it. Take another. No one
reads the life of Christ without being struck
by the strange indifference to popularity
which he evinces. But this becomes ten
fold strange when we observe along with it
a thirst for influence upon others, such as
we find nowhere else; and, still more re
*Aiid it is most striking, at least I have noticed
it chiefly in the earlier part of his course—nowhere
more unmistakably than in the first few months
after He commences his public life.
markably, a passion for personal connection
with persons, which is unprecedented in this
world. Let any reader commenoe from the
baptism of John unto that same day when
ho was taken up, and he will find this intense
attraction to persons, and thirst for personal
infiuenoe, to be combined with a want of
any perceptible trace—l do not say of seek
ing popularity—but even of any enjoyment
of popularity. And it is the combination
that is unprecedented and characteristic.—
Again, there is more than a passion far per
sonal dealing. I ask any one to open any of
the Gospels, nowhere better than at the very
beginning of his oourse, and mark how his
whole personal intercourse is invariably
mixed up with a moral dealing with the in
dividual. Whether it be John, or Nathanael,
or Cephas, or Nicodemus, or the Centurion,
who meets him, it is evor the same. He
cannot look upon or meet any human being,
however casually, witlibut regarding him, in
a moral point of view, as one with a heart to
be turned, a soul to be saved, a life for the
kingdom of heaven. This is not an accident,
it is an essential of the man. Read the life
again, and prove whether this is true.
Further, let any man with any intelligence
read one of the Gospels (M&tthew or John
perhaps, by preference, but it really does not
muoh matter which,) nnd say whether this
does not come out in a strange way—this
man’s life is all on a plan. Home of us have
tried to keep our lives ou a plan, but allhave
long since given it up. No one oan read
any of the lives of Jesus without seeing that
from the beginning He bad his eyo on a fu
ture—that no word is spoken for the present
alono—that Ho saw before Him in some way
wholly marvelous. His step, in all the re
cords, in every part of them, is one going
straightforward—never turning asido, never
mending, repairing, or taking np what lias
been done—pure from the least touok of
that repentance which to ns is God’s best
gift—never’making a bye-blow or mistake;
never tacking from side to side, as all other
men have done who have risen to great alti
tudes; never progressing into new ideas, bqt
at the very most only developing ;those we
find in Him from the first; never taken by
surprise but always before and above all
that happens to Him; lord of every situation
through the most tragic of all lives; never
even standing still, but always accomplishing
an understood destiny, and finishing a deeply
apprehonded work. In what other life
among the sons of men does anything like
this appear? It may lie objected, on the
other hand, that thore is a marvellous spon
taneity discernible in every action of Ins— a
freeness, a voluntariness, an independence
at every point and stop which amazes ns.
And that is true; but it is the union of the
two facts—the uniou of the two throughput,
that is tho thing nnmistakably characteristic,
unique, and historical.
Yet, self-moving and spontaneous as his
action is, there is about the Jesus of Mat
thew, the Jesus of Mark, the Jesus of Luke,
the Jesus of John, what I cannot but de
scribe as u sort of official restraint. He lives
as one in iron harness or in priestly robes—
the pressure of his work and life is ever upon
Him. He has no marriage; the love of wo
man is not for Him. He has no confidants,
no favoritism, no personal enthusiasms, no
partnerships, no free outbursts into any hu
man sphere; He would not commit himself
to men—to-any man or to anything that He
found around Him here.
And then his love—his love to man, nnd
his love to men—l cannot dwell upon that.
All acknowledge and feel its existence who
read tho life. But let me only say, I oan
scarcely imagine any man of intelligence
who does not perceive that this love is unique
—that it is proper and personal to Jesus
Christ. For his love is peculiar, nay, it has
within it a vast assemblage of recognisable
peculiarities (besides that great peculiarity
of its infinite purity and strength) whion
those who open the book and read for them
selves will certainly find there. There is,
for example, a marvellous consideration in
dealing with each man for himself os an in
dividual. There is also his infinite insight
into each man—into his present, his past,
his future. You may say that this is only one
instanco of what you find in every chapter
of the feUr records—a calm of something
like absolute insight into all things, and of
inward harmony with all things, but it is
not so; it is a separate and additional mar
vel, for it is a personal consideration of love.
And within this considerate love, there
gleam oqt upon us, iu endless variety (like
the shifting hues that change and glow upon
the neck of a dove,) an infinite tenderness
and delicacy. To this man would a mother
commit her broken and mangled child. In
which Gospel is this not found?
Again, the proverbial kindness and com
passion of Jesus is always authoritative. It
is invariably and unmistakably as from
above. The bluntest perception finds this
in every action of his life. So, too, bis love
towards his disciples is always a grave ten
derness—a superiority of affection. It is a
friendship most open, but as of one infinitely
above them. There is no affectation of
equality—no weak indulgence of human
evil; but, “I have called you friends; ” and
then, “ Greater love hath no man than this,
that a man lay down his life fer his friends.”
These belong to that great characteristic, the
majesty of his love. Can any man read any
Gospel and not find this? And whenoe came
it? Did Galilean fisherman or Ephesian Jew
conceive or create this new thing upon the
earth? They knew Jesus, all admit, walked
with Him, by sea and valley, tower and hill;
and one after another of the records, which
are scarcely denied to be from them, narrate
this os his, as in him. If this is not history
what can be? Can you imagine this majesty
of love apart from the person in whom ft
dwelt? * -
I might go on to cite more, for the field is
infinite, but I must pause. I should have
liked to loot at Borne minute but peculiarly
personal traits which meet us in or under
every record; such as, for example, his re
serve of utterance about his own nature and
dignity—a reserve which only the stupidest
and most pedantic indiscrimination can mis
take for ignorance or even reticence—a sense
of restraint and limitation, coming out
strangely everywhere as in the complaint,
“Ye wifi not come unto me that ye might
have life:” “Even so, Father'’—the burden
on the mind, all through a life which seems
to have known, so far as the histories indi
cate, no free or joyous childhood or youth,
and which, month by month, was straitened
(how straitened IJ till it was accomplished
—or, lastly, the incommnnicableness of his
deeper emotions and feelings, as when, in
Mark, he sighed deeply in his spirit, and, in
Matthew, ho said, “ No man knoweth the
father save the Son;” and, in Luke, he
walked before his disciples towards the soene
of his coming death, and spoke no word,
while they came behind in amazement—and
“ as they followed they were afraid;” andin
John He said, “O righteous Father, the
world bath not known thee,bnt I have known
thee;” all these and innumerable more (suoh
as bis attitude to sin, and to the personality
of evil, his relation to Moses and Judaism,
his strange mixing up of his love to his peo
ple with his relation to his Father, his spirit
of utter self-sacrifice, his absolute depend
ence and his absolute independence, his
constant holding forth of himself, combined
with an absolute unselfishness) —for the bulk
of this character, to say nothing else of it, is
prodigious, and that in each of the Gospels;
and we have but gathered a handful here
and there of a knowledge which may be the
inheritance of our lives.
But I do not present any one of these
particulars with a view to my reader accept
ing it as true; I give them purely as illustra
tions of a method, a process, by which it
seems perfectly competent to any of us (with
a little moral sense, and a little oommon
sense, and as much learning as we choose
to add to those far more important requi
sites)—by which it is possible for us all to
penetrate to the personality of Christ. For
the sum of a man’s characteristics is his char
acter; and each characteristic is rooted in
his personality.
|To be continued.}
Love-feasts are of apostolic origiß, and
never ought to have gone into desuetude—
of course they never ought to have been
abused, as they were in the early Church.
In “Christianity Re-examined,” it.is said,
‘ ‘ Their love-feasts had a tendency to increase
unity, knowledge, and holiness; that is, so
long as they were retained in their original
simplicity and purity. These
seem to have been intermediate.between the
E. H. MYERS, D. D., EDITOR
WHOLE NUMBER 1806.
family and the Church. On such occasions,
the rich and poor, aged and young, assem
bled together. It was a most familiar ban
quet of oharity. The opulent generally
provided the frugal fare. The table being
spread, all sat d.own on Christian equality
to the temperate meal. Voluntary offerings
flowed in from the rich and poor. At this
simple repast they edified one another; they
chanted, exhorted, prayed, Christian con
versation was carried on more freely than
could possibly take place in other collec
tive means of-grace. By sfich observances
Christians, of all ages and positions, became
better known one to the other, knowledge
was increased, holy graces were brought into
living and loving exercise, and the whole
Commnnion strengthened in progressive
Christian life.”
From tho Western Christian Advocate.
A Plea for the Superannuate.
BY REV. A. BOWERS.
The support of these men we regard as a
debt, which the Church, in whose service
they wore out their lives, is under obliga
tion to assume, and cauoel every year; they
have given the strength of their manhood
to tho service of Christ, living upon what
the Church gave them, but saving nothing,
and now when age and infirmity are upon
them are they to be turned away as paupers?
The Church must answer.
Axe their wives, who leave homes of com
fort, and often of elegance, to share in an
itinerant’s life of toil, after the husband is
gone, to be turned out upon society to beg
or starve ? Again the Church must answer.
The position and office of the minister
are peculiar. His position in society is that
of a public teacher of religion, and to quali
fy himself for his duties he spends some of
his best years in study, and usually all the
patrimony he has, and so he enters upon
his mission, poor and often in debt for books
and schooling, which he afterward pays out
of his meager salary.
A lawyer is employed with the privilege
of making his own charge; and very often
he receives more for the advice and services
of a few hours than the minister does for
the exposure and labor of a year. The phy
sician is oalled, and he attends faithfully, it
is true, to the wants of his patient: but in
many instances the minister is there as regu
larly as the doctor, and goes as far to pray
at the bedside, and sing to soothe the suffer
er's pain.
There is no oomparison. The doctor did
his best to save life, but the pastor pointed
the trembling soul to the oross of Jesns,
that in that dark hour, it might receive the
sweet assurauoe of “the life eternal.”
Now we have no quarrel with other pro
fessions, bnt instanco these, to show that
while these are all paid for their services,
their own price, he who goes out to dispenso
the “Word of life,” finds his greatest con
solation in the promise, “Lo lam with you
alway, even unto the end of the world.”
The minister goes to bis work cheerfully
among his people, to visit the sick, and bury
the dead, and to administer spiritual conso
lation everywhere, trusting them for tho
snpport of himself and fanuly, and to meet
also the claims of the world, which they lay
to no other man or profession.
One instance to illustrate this point. Two
or three years ago, upon one of the bitter
est days of winter, a minister rode fourteen
miles in a wagon, and nearly thirty upon the
oars, to preach the funeral sermon of a young
man whose father was worth 950,000, and did
not reoeive even his fare upon the railway.
This man was not a member of any Church;
but the faithful pastor goes wherever and
whenever he is sent for. Who ever knew
one that would not hasten at the call, by
night or day, to the bedside of sorrow, pain,
ana suffering ?
Is it right to let those who have been de
voted in life to the interests of humanity,
“toiling to clear the heritage” we-enjoy,
caring only that they might bless the world
with their prayers and labors, be oast off in
their age ana feebleness, .-or their widows
and orphans after they are gone ? No 1 a
thousand times no t
It will not do for the Churoh to say that
“there is more talent in other professions,
hence better snpport,” for this assertion
conld not be substantiated. Neither will it
do to say, “They chose the ministry, now
let them abide by the result of this choioe;”
rather let it be said they had no choioe in
the matter, but feeling that “woe was unto
them if they preached not the Gospel,”
they went forth at their Master’s bidding to
do and to die in his service.
It will not do to say “they are well enough
paid, but know not how to take care of what
they receive,” for the assertion is ventured
here that there are no more seonoadoal man
agers in the country than Christian minis
ters. They are expeoted to be examples of
benevblenoe and charity, to head all contri
butions, and to give at home Sad abroad;
and they do more of this, according to their
means, than any other class of men. New,
the Saviour himself says, “The laborer is
worthy pf his hire,” and the man who toamia
the snpport of these men as charity takes a
very narrow view of this important sulf—>.
Perish forever the thonght that the.* assn
are objects of charity when they can no lun
ger sound Hie battle cry and stand in Hie
thick of the fight 1 We repeat, this is a debt
which the Church must meet, or turn eftt
these war scarred veterans to die in poverty
and want, when the sound pf the battle de
notes (he long expeoted victory is near,
when “the kingdoms of this world shall
become the kingdoms of our Lord and his
Ohrist.”
“They that preach the Gospel shall live of
the Gospel,” the apostle declares; hot only
while they are healthy and vigorous workers
but in their age and feebleness, as the priests
were supported under the Mosaic economy.
The man who follows the plow or shoves the
plane oomes up to it and continues at it suc
cessfully without any special training. The
man who stands behind the counter, smiles
upon his customers, and measures off his
goods; does the same thing over and over all
through the year, without the necessity of
any new processes of thought. These sleep
sweetly, because the critical eye of the
world is not upon them, and are better com
pensated for their labor than the Gospel
minister, whose range of subjects must be
varied, his information extensive, and his
ability td preach good, and increasing; he
must read and write muoh, and think con
stantly upon some new subjects; because he
is the servant of the people, even in bis
Master’s work.
The Church owes this debt to these patient
ones, and if she liquidates it with prompt
ness the orphan, and. the widow, and the
gray-haired man of God will bless her in
their prayers. We have a number of aged
men, worn oat in the service of the Church,
and now dependent upon her for a support
in their declining years; we have the wid
ows and orphan children of other noblemen,
who had faith in the Church when they en
tered her ministry that she would grant them
a support, and ttf her, as they went down
into a shadowy land, they committed their
loved ones, and from the undimmed blessed
ness of their heavenly home they are watch
ing to see whether the Church, in whose
service they wore out their lives, will betray
the sacred trust committed to her core.
Quinine. —Quinine is prodnoed from a
foiest tree in Month America, known as the
Cinchona, of which there are many varie
ties, but the Cinchona ealisaya and Cin
chona rubra yield the medicine in greatest
abundance. So great has been the demand
that in most of the districts whence it has
been obtained the supplies are gradually
diminishing; and, as no substitute is likely
to be found, it is of the utmost importance
that new sources should be discovered. In
Jamaica, the Cinchona rnbra has been cul
tivated sufficiently to show that it will grew
well on that island, and the government is
urged to encourage and assist in its cultiva
tion on an extended scale. It seems, how
ever, that only upon mountains 1000 tq 2000
feet high, where the forests are often be
dewed with mists, does this tree arrive at a
perfection that will make its cultivation
profitable; but there are several sections in
the island which will aniwer the require
ments. Besides, there are other' islands in
this quarter of the world where similar con
ditions prevail, and if due efforts are made
the world’s supply of qnimne may oontinue
unqfbauated.