CiHM/ICMH Microfiche Series. CIHM/ICIVIH Collection de microfiches. Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions / Institut Canadian de microreproductions historiques 35rra*p;ar*rWKW'rwwrM?'.--'''=-"''^^->,7iyts?wfti'^T5'rt^t Technical and Bibliographic Notes/Notes techniques et bibliographiques The Institute has attempted to obtain the best original copy available for filming. Features of this copy which may be bibliographically unique, which may alter any of the images ii' ■'■ .V .VY4-5 BjiSia»i'«n'r6L»-.^ i. ■ ^ - « . • •»- — -^ ^--' — ■t lAMOND ^UST. BY MRS. JENNIE FOWLER WILLING, AUTHOR or "THROOOM THR DARK TO THR DAV," ETC. CINSTXTIr CINCINNATI: HITCHCOCK AND WAUDKN. NEW YORK: PHILLIPS & HUNT. 1880. //^ ■*^« 7h ^mimmmm . ■'yw u I'^ n i j Copyright by HITCHCOCK A WAL.DEN. 1880. I fm^mimmm m " ywii i ■ " -^jJi/- eojii&^ftm^. I. Diamond Dust, n. Thinking, 37 III. Married People, . 77 IV. Saving THE Life.. . . 109 V. COURTKOUSNESS, VI. My Neighbor, .... '57 VII. How TO GET RID OF '•The Blues," „g VIII. GrniNG Rich '93 IX. Giving by Rule, . . . ..... 307 X. Growing Old. . . . aaa I plJ^JVTOKb pif^M. I « < - HTHERE are wonderful things to be seen in J" a watch factory; plucky little machines that bite off a steel bar with c ,., snap of their jaws, discriminating little machines that handle screws one hundredth of an inch in length, exact little machines that measure the sixteenth of a hair's- breadth. But the one bit of mechanism that may most stir the thought is the tiny tin saw that cuts the jewels of the watch. Yes, the delicate and difficult work of shap- ing the garnet and agua marina, the ruby anA sapphire, is done by a piece of A'«— that soft, common metal. But notice I Its edge is chained ^\t\i diamond dust. Only the prince of gems can cut those pre- cious stones. The diamond may not work alone. Its power must be made available through some cheaper agent to which it is joined. Probably the tin holds the diamond dust all the more tenaciously on account of its own weakness. 7 8 DIAMOND DUST. Why may not some noble, discouraged worker learn from the little tin saw how the jeweled pivots are cut, upon which turn the wheels of suc- cess in the world's conquest for God? We are none of us content, unless we believe ourselves useful to others; and the broader our usefulness, the deeper and surer our peacfe. This principle sends delicate Christian women out of their snug homes, and sets them stumbling up into wretched attics, and down into dismal cel- lars. It sent scholarly Jesuits across the sea to freeze and starve among the North American In- dians. Sometimes a rich, full life is poured out un.stintedly in unselfish service, and with small result. The note of such a failure might almost send a throb of pain through an angel's song. We all want to be useful. Children hear i:i a shell the moan of the sea. If we listen well, we can hear in the soul's confidences with itself a ceaseless moan for fellowship with God in his grand schemes of benevolence. This universal bent indicates the divine inten- tion. God uses human agents. He would use each of us to the limit of our powers, if we would meet the conditions of his inworking. When we see those who are specially useful, we demand of ourselves to know why we are not doing more. Might not we accomplish some- C. raged worker the jeweled 'heels of suc- I? is we belie v'ft broader our peacfe. This jmen out of tumbling up • dismal cel- s the sea to Vmerican In- 5 poured out with small night almost ;rs song, iren hear i.\ listen well, 5 with itself God in his divine inten- ; would use •wers, if we working, lially useful, ' we are not pHsh some- DIAMOND DUST. 9 thing if only we could learn the secret of suc- cessful effort? The earnest soul asks itself, "Have I found the line of life in which I can do most ?" "Have I strength for any broader work than that which now occupies- my time?" It is plain that to work successfully we must find first, what we can do best, then satisfy our- selves that our weakness is not a bar to success; and learn, if we can, how the little tin saw we are set to manage can be cliarged with the dia- mond dust of divine power. First, let us see what God would have done. We set our watches by the jeweler's chronometer because we want them right. It tells us where the sun is, and only the sun can give us standard time. If we would hai e right notions of God's work, the Sun of Divin ^ Rightness must give us our standard. We must turn to the true Light that lighteth every man that cometh into the worfd. We can be thoroughly useful only when we work the works of God. And what are they? To the Word and to the Testimony. Froin God's imperishable Record alone we may learn to what service we are to devote ourselves. Let us read carefully. We find the stupendous miracle of creation 10 DIAMOND DUST. chronicled in a few lines, while chapter after chapter is given to warning, exhortation, and entreaty that wandering souls may be rescued from ultimate loss and death. How simple is the story of the genesis of light, that wonderful effluence that makes possi- ble all growth and beauty! How marvelous its movements! It puts its shoulder beneath all liv- ing things and lifts them toward the heavens in spite of the tremendous downward tug of gravi- tation. It brings note of suns so far away that a quarter of the life-time of the globe is needed to transmit the report. It pries into the minutest organism. It shows us the shuttles of life at work, weaving the living tissue; yet, marvelous as it is, the story of its birth is given us in a half-dozen words, though there is ample space to detail the penitence of a crucified thief, or the gratitude of a pardoned Magdalen. We can be genuinely useful only when we work in line with the puipose of God. He ren- ders the best service who does most to hasten the coming of the kingdom, be it by the con- quest of an empire or the conversion of a child. In seeking broad usefulness many blunder fatally. They mistake Mat for achievement, rep- utation for character, the huzzas of the crowd for the "Well done" of God. And they generally . 9f HlWi^ hapter after rtation, and be rescued genesis of nakes possi- larvelous its leath all liv- heavens in ag of gravi- r away that e is needed he minutest i of life at , marvelous en us in a >le space to jief, or the y when we He ren- to hasten y the con- of a child, ly blunder ement, rep- i crowd for r generally , DIAMOND DUST. xt find what they seek. " Verily, verily, I say unto you, they have their reward." They climb up where the altitude is more lonely, the landscape more drear, and they become only a better mark for the peltings of the envious. They have a few years of pampered egotism and then an eter- nal .stumbling upon the dark mountains of ban- ishment from God. Greatness usually comes to the door a prince in disguise. We keep the door closed and wait for the chariot and outriders that never come. If we try to build for ourselves a pedestal that shall lift us into consequence, like children making cob palaces, our careless haste is con- stantly throwing down what we have set up; while, if we take some simple, humble work' and make of it all we possibly can, God working in us and with us, before we dream of such a thing it has grown to a height that lifts us into consideration. In our personal salvation, we are forever stumbling over the simplicity of God's methods. We must have some 'marvelous revealment of the divine glory, some unbearable ecstasy, in- stead of the peace of Christ, the quiet faith-that believes his Word. Our diamond must blaze- forth a Koh-i-noor, a mountain of light, and we push it aside with our foot, because it seems to 'm la DIAMOND DUST. our dull eyes only a common pebble. So our opportunity comes to us, not as a glorifying, but as a plain, unwelcome duty — a cross. The line of life marked out for us by infinite wisdom is, of necessity, the very best possible. Our weakness is not a bar to successful effort. The statement of the most logical and exact m- spired writer is that God hath chosen the weak things of the world to confound the mighty. Not that he uses them when he can get no others, or when they are thrust in his way and he can not push them aside; but of all in- struments, they are his choice; and the reason follows, "That no flesh may glory in his pres- ence." He does not choose the weak because the strength of the strong is in his way, for the strongest are weak enough. These things are hid from the wise and prudent and revealed unto babes, because the wise and prudent will not take the attitude so natural and easy for the babes. Tin is chosen instead of the richer metals to hold the diamond dust on account of its very poverty. God always uses means utterly inadequate to the result to be produced, that it may be thor- oughly understood that the exceUency of the power is not of men, but of himself. Then ble. So our orifying, but s by infinite t possible. ■essful effort. id exact m- n the weak he mighty. :an get no lis way and : of all in- the reason in his pres- ak because 'ay, for the things are (healed unto It will not isy for the ' metals to of its very dequate to ly be thor- icy of the elf. Then DIAMOND DUS7\ needy souls will know that to him alone they must look as the source of help and stren^h and not to the servants that do L bidding ' God s use of inadequate means may be seen in the material world. ucing Dy a word of power; he wraos th*. emb^o m an insignificant nut. and drops t'uj^: the ground. A foot presses it into the soU The frost gnaws at its shell. Life touches the germ and sets the "bioplasts" at work They begin to weave an oak. and presently its tZ leaflets push their way through the ground and up toward the light, the nip of\ lalkin ni.ght destroy the little vegetaWe. but. gu"'d d by the law of the survival of the fittest it climbs SsThl-'"'^'^^^'^^^'*''^--^^'^^ .-s .11 f i "?""^"'^' "P"S:ht column of wood IS all from the tiny embryo. When God would send a river forth on its m.ss.o„ of power and use and beauty he does not open one of the earth's great artt a^d pour a mighty flood down the mounta „ 'sid" A few drops trickle from beneath a stone A baby's ^ueh might turn the runlet this Jay o^ a oIkT K .' ' T^ '" ''' ^"^'■'' ^"d dances over a pebbly bed. a thing of beauty and of gladness 14 DIAMOND DUST. Joining hands with kindred rills, it grows in power, gathering in its arms other streams, till at last it rolls in might toward the ocean, bear- ing on its bosom the inland commerce of a people. When a continent is to be made, the Great Architect does not set the Titans hammering the mountains about under the sea, that he may lay its base-stones. He gives the order to a tiny polyp that lives but a day; and presently the coral reef is thrown across the path of naviga- tion. Then the island lifts its head above the wave, and soon the continent becomes the home of races of living beings. The ocean lies still and quiet in its rocky bed, its deep heart unmoved by the tornadoes that thunder across its surface, tossing great navies hither and thither like handfiris of feath- ers. Yet, under the moonbeam's kiss, it lifts tons and tons of its waters from their place and throws them for leagues along the shore. Gravitation is a law so delicate that philoso- phers fumbled around it for centuries without being able to find it; yet it is so mighty that, by it the Creator holds the universe in balance. The Master seems to have wrought by this rule of the use of inadequate means in his re- demptive and reformatory work. In his mira- cles he used means looking toward the. end de- it grows in streams, till ocean, bear- i of a people. le, the Great mmering the t he may lay er to a tiny jresently the h of naviga- id above the ics the home in its rocky le tornadoes ossing great firis of feath- kiss, it lifts :ir place and [lore. that philoso- tries without jhty that, by balance, jght by this is in his re- in his mira- the.end de- DIAMOND DUST. ,- sired, yet always unequal to the result His mightiest marvels were wrought by a word or a touch When the multitude followed him out of their homes, so eager to hear the Word that they los s.ght of their physical needs, he told his dis ciples to give them food. He could have spoken mto being a Himalaya of bread; but then the great lesson of the miracle would have been lost. He took the five loaves and the two small fishes, and blessed, and brake, and set the doubters cater- ing for the great rows of hungry people. Each took his pitiful bit of bread, and stumbled toward those whom he was to serve with a thousand keen eyes watching his movements. He broke off each piece in faith, and there was no les.sen- mg of the supply, for the creative power of him who issued the command was brought into requi- sition by obedient trust. In the work of grace, the Lord Jesus Christ always wrought by the same rule. He com- mitted the tremendous work of the world's con- quest to a little company of Galilean peasants, though he might have chosen Judean rabbis. Athenian philosophers, or Roman poets and statesmen, or he might have called to his aid legions of angels. He left his work in the hands of a few fisher people, uncouth in man-' ners, burry m speech, untrained in thought, with ; lll ' ,l ' l i ||i!,jn- ! i| i J I . | i i Mwi Wif salvation is »mon opinions, I world believes >int is trust in r that it should Greeks and a tic, hierarchal movements of cans that had, ' divine power, woman was a ilation or con- Itogether unfit f books or of a woman was ly every coun- ine the Great, f the Roman rid, iristianity into lir the Great, >f the empire, f of his wife, DIAMOND DUST. «r Hungary was brought to Christ through the efforts of Sarolta. a Christian princess, wife of Kmg Geysa, and mother of St. Stephen The Poles were converted under the reign of M.c.sbs I through the.influence of his Christian w fe, Dambrouska. Olaf the Good, who became tie apostle of Scandinavia, carrying the leav^^ of evangehsm even to Iceland and Greenland? was the convert of his wife, Gyda. Our own Jintish ancestors ^vere indebted for the perma- nen est bushnjent of Christianity amongT^ to the efforts of good Queen Bertha. In the sixteenth century, a few earnest Ger- mans were praymg that the emperor might be aroused to stand for the old spirituality that had and the answer came in the conversion of ^ mmer s scape-grace son. While in the depths of despair the mighty doctnne of justification by faith dawned upon Luther s dark soul; and that belief of an ob- scure monk was God's engine for laying as level as the waUs of Jericho the old bastions^of pa^a power m Germany. ^^ Poor, alone, persecuted, he stood before the potentates of the empire at Worms with the simple, sturdy answer to the command to recant- ^ Hter sUhe Ich, Ich katm nicht anders. So hUf f^ m/mmm i8 DIAMOND DUST. mir Gott. Anun" When he was buried In the Wartburg out of the reach of friend and foe, he wrought the great work of the Reformation, the translation of the Bible into the speech of the people. In that work he gave Germany her language. Lifting a dialect into a speech by translating into it the Scriptures, he made a vehi> de of thought that rendered possible the mar- velous German literature that has followed. Greater still, he made permanent the Refor- mation. Always and ever the greatest is evolved from the least. The Anglican revival of thd eighteenth cen- tury was born in an obscure rectory, where a woman was holding her nineteen children to a regimen as rigorous as that of West Point, and yet so gentle and tender, Dr. Clarke says, they had the reputation of being the most loving fam- ily in the county of Lincoln. With a verse-making, wool-gathering husband who had not practical sense enough to keep out of jail for debt, she not only looked well to the ways of her household, but she helped her boys with their classics, and through the intricacies of their religious experience. Little thought she as the days went on, crowded to the last second with infinitesimal cares, that she was laying the foundation of the greatest revival pf spiritual 1 buried in the icnd and foe, Reformation, the speech of - Germany her a speech by e made a vehi- isible the mar- has followed, nt the Refor- itest is evolved jighteenth cen- ctory, where a I children to a /est Point, and irkc says, they ost loving fam- leripff husband rh to keep out well to the lelped her boys je intricacies of [thought she as last second ras laying the |al of spiritual DIAMOND DUST. »9 godliness that these later centuries have wit- nessed. Little did even the wisest imagine that in that obscure rectory a moral renovation was being planned that was to change the life of millions — possibly even the polity of all civilized nations — pirn ig with its darts of light the gloom above ali races the wide world over. Lay preaching has been the driving-wheel of the Wesleyan machinery. When God set it spin- ning, John Wesley's high-church prejudices made him unequal to the test. He came home from one of his itinerant tours, and. finding out what had been set on foot in his absence, he said to his mother, with unusual asperity, "£^, Thomas Maxiield has turned preacher!" "Yes, and do you be careful how you lay your hand on that young man. He is just as certainly called of God to preach as you are." She kept him from throwing the band off* the driving-wheel. When God thrust Wesley out to preach upon the moors and commons to the masses that could not be gathered into the churches to hear the Word, a storm of persecution arose and church doors were slammed in his face. His mother steadied his courage, "Never mind, my son, the work is of God. Go on, and leave re- sults with him." She stood by his side, that gray-haired old mother, when he spoke upon 30 DIAMOND DUST. Kennlngton Common to twenty thousand people. But for that small and often overlooked factor, the mother's faith, where would have been the great scheme of evangelism? The Sabbath-school is unequaled in its power for the spread of the Gospel among the masses. Its beginning was humble enough. In 1769 Hannah Ball established a Sunday-school in Wy- combe, England. Twelve years later another young woman, who afterwards became the wife of Samuel Bradburn, a celebrated lay preacher, suggested to Robert Raikes the idea of teaching the children the Word of God, and she walked with him through the streets of Gloucester when he went to the church with his little, ragged company to try the first experiment. The peo- ple hooted at the woman's whim, but "the hand- ful of corn upon the top of the mountains, the fruit thereof shakes like Lebanon." At the beginning of this century the Chinese Empire was closed against Christian truth. Its language, the speech of n-arly half the people of the world, was without even a touch of Chris- tian literature. A Sunday-school teacher in- duced a street boy to come into her class. She gave him suitable clothing and he came one Sun- day. The next he was missing. She hunted him up, clothed him again, and brought him again to I iisand people, ooked factor, ave been the 1 in its power ■g the masses. Ii. In 1769 ichool in Wy- later another ame the wife lay preacher, a of teaching d she walked (ucester when little, ragged »t. The peo- it "thehand- iountains, the r the Chinese n truth. Its If the people luch of Chris- teacher in- r class. She ime one Sun- e hunted him him again to DIAMOND DUST. the school He came only one Sabbath and disau- peared aga.n She persevered and the third S^. 3he succeeded in holding him in her class A nflmg matter, to be sure, but that boy wa, Ro^ crt Morrison, who became the apostle to China The American Board of Commissioners of For- ful work, grew out of the talk of some colle^re boys s.tt.ng beside a haystack one Satu da! afternoon, where they had taken refuge from I shower They talked of the heathen fndof'he possibility of their conversion, and agreed to -eet regularly to pray for the salvation of the trAm^ltr.^""^--^^^^^^^^ The Mtthodist Missionary Society „ith l„ Sof^Lr "*" ""*-• «-» o„ro'?.ie effort of a little company of women who banded le«h the Indians upon the Western Reserve But trme would fall to speak of A\ the ereal schemes thai God has Inaugurated thrlugh^Th. smallest agencies. I„de«i, such a caWogue wouW cover, the greater part of the divine Zk Of *: eCiot *' -"■"^ '•"*--""— - The Jews stumbled to their utter ruin over iiili ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ 93 DIAMOND DUST. the simple, unpretentious coming of their Prince Messiah, the Desire of Nations. The reputed son of a carpenter, unheralded, except by the signs that accompanied his birth, why should they acknowledge his claim ? During his thirty years of waiting he moved about among them simply a thoughtful, young man, with sad, pa- tient eyes, differing from others only in probity, which was any thing but a passport to distinction, saying strange, wise things, but never bringing to pass any thing remarkable. He waited in insignificance and obscurity while the great world — His world — known to him in its ultimate atoms, turned silently on its axis, kissed by his sunbeams, touched by his frosts, enriched by the rains that he sent upon the evil and the good, its people filling their cup of con- demnation. At last His hour struck, and he stepped to the front, putting his shoulder to the mighty work of redemption. But even then he was unknown to Greek scholarship, unheard of in that magnif- icent city of the Caesars. Probabb' not a thinker in those superb old Indian and Chinese empires pronouqced his name. He lived in a remote Ro- man province, hated and persecuted, and he died at. last a felon's death. But Richter says of him, " He who was the holiest among the mighty, and ►f their Prince The reputed ixcept by the , why should ring his thirty among them with sad, pa- ly in probity, to distinction, ever bringing md obscurity known to him [y on its axis, ay his frosts, upon the evil ir cup of con- (le stepped to ; mighty work was unknown I that magnif- not a thinker inese empires a remote Ro- i, and he died r says of him, e mighty, and JDIAAtOND DUST. as the mightiest among the holy has, with his pierced hand, lifted heathenism off its hinges, and turned the dolorous and accursed centuries into new channels, and now governs the ages." Since it appears plainly that our weakness is no bar to successful work for God, how shall we get about it to have our weak human nature charged with the diamond dust of divine power? 1. We must understand our own weakness. This is the Sebastopol of the campaign, the key to the position. The Master said, "Without me ye can do nothing." He understood our puerile attempts at bolstering our own dignity. He knew how hard we would try to make ourselves and others believe that we were equal to the work in hand. He meant we should begin with a sense of utter inefficiency. Frederic the Great, with a little of the insight of genius, said that the three hardest words to pronounce are, " I was mistaken." We may be too polite to trumpet our own doings. We may have more sense than Long- fellow's lago. " Very bonstful wns lago. Never heard he an adventur«, But himself had met a greater ; Never any deed of daring, But himself had done a bolder ; «4 DIAMOND DUST. Never any marvelous story, But himself could tell a stranger." Yet if we watch ourselves we will find that always, if we can, we turn the conver^tion away from those topics upon which we appear to dis- advantage, and toward those that show off" our achievements. It comes so easy to say, "When I was in the university," or, "When we were abroad," or, "When their High Mightinesses, So and So, were at our house." While we are filled with a sense of our own importance, we can not be partakers of the di- vine nature so as to be full of power by the Spirit of the Lord. We must not only be converted, we must be- come as little children. There is an inborn spirit of independence that must be gotten rid of as soon as possible. When Thales was asked what is the most difficult thing in the universe, he replied, "To know thyself." So tricky are we, we hide our real motives even from our closest self-scrutiny. We practice hypocrisy upon ourselves even when we are airing our sincerity and ingenuousness. We intone our confession of unworthiness with proper inflections and cadences. We are poor, miserable sinners, but not unfrequently our drawl of humility covers self-assertion as a wet irill find that raation away ppear to dis- ihow off our tay, "When len we were lightinesses, I of our own rs of the di- ower by the we must be-. ndependence Eis possible, is the most eplied, ' ' To we hide our self-scrutiny. !S even when 3;enuousness. iinworthiness s. We are equently our on as a wet DIAMOND DUST. cloth covers a dead man's face, making it all the more ghastly to them who have eyes. If somebody agrees with us in our declara- tions of incompetency, we catch ourselves sud- denly straightening our vertebral column, and as- serting stiffly that we are probably quite as wise and good as the majority of our neighbors. Much of the discipline of life is meant to make us see this defect of character. How plainly we see the independence of the little fellow toddling off on his two uncertain feet. If he can push open the gate he starts out wildly toward any point of the compass in the big out- side world, and how resolutely he resists witli kicks and screams eve-^' attempt to force him back within safe and proper limits. If a mother leaves her little girl in charge of the house she is sure to find that the child foi^ot to feed the chickens and keep the pigs out of the garden, in her disastrous attempts to show that she can make pies and clean house all by herself. Older people dislike to be told to do what they think tljey understand as well as any body. "You had better take your shawl, Mary; it will be cool coming home. " " No, mother, I sha' n't need it." When we were upon the sidewalk, the young I.' I 96 DIAMOND DUST. lady, who was more thoughtful in her introspec- tion than most people, asked this question, "Why do you suppose I told mother I didn't need my shawl, when I meant to take it all the time, and should have done so if she hadn't spoken about it— just as though I did n't know enough to take care of my health ?" You are in a street-car that gets into some sort of trouble. "Don't be frightened," says a superior individual with that soothing cadence that is specially provoking. "Just sit istill, there's no danger. " You are on your feet in a moment. You are no baby. You probably know as well as he how to behave, danger or no danger. This personal hauteur is probably a remnant of the original human kingliness. But whatever it is, it is sadly in the way of good work, for be- fore honor is humility. Before we can be properly equipped for the divine service, we must know thoroughly that we are utterly helpless for good, except as God becomes the strength of our strengthlessness. Only God has power to help souls to a better life. He is jealous for the divine prerogative, not for his own sake, but for ours. A jeweler will riot let his little boy tamper with a watch, no matter how dear the child may BE| ;r introspec- s question, ler I did n't :e it all the she hadn't lid n't know i into some ened," says ing cadence St sit istill, )ur feet in a u probably anger or no remnant of whatever it ork, for he- lped for the oughly that :ept as God ilessness. i to a better prerogative, boy tamper e child may DIAMOND DUST. 97 be to his heart. Not because he is afraid that his son may become a rival in business, but because he is afraid the little fellow will ruin the watch, if allowed to get at its wheels and ratchets. We know so little of the human spirit we can never be sure of saying or doing the right thing for its helping, except as our Father holds our hand, and speaks through our lips. There is an aloneness of grandeur about this awful human soul. It may be trampled in mire like a lost diamond ; it may be built into coarse, common wall like the brokcii, scattered Greek marbles, but an archangel would stand back abashed from the audacity of laying unbidden so much as the weight of a finger upon the delicate, immense mechanism. Shall we be so foolhardy as to attempt any reformatory work, except simply and only as in- struments in the divine hand ? When we get out of the swaddling bands of our selfhood, we are brought face to face with the ultimate facts of being, and charac- ter, and destiny, the dignity of the soul and its final future, and we become indifferent to our own apparent success or failure, so that the^ work in which we are permitted a part moves fonvard. a8 DIAMOND DUST. 2. We must have a sense of Gods adequacy to the work in hand. "For right is right, since God is God, And right the day must win, ^ To doubt would be disloyalty, To falter would be sin.*' In the Sacred Record we find that those who asked and received great things of God usually prefaced their prayer with a statement of the di- vine greatness. That, as I understand it, was not that they might propitiate the Deity by an as- cription of praise, for the best human attempts to tell him who and what he is must be to his ear mere limping, childish chirping. They said these things that their own minds might be sat- urated with the thought of his power, and the ease with which he could deliver them from troubles that seemed so great. Thus, when Hezekiah was in mortal terror before the coming of Sennacherib's host, he prayed before the Lord, and said: "O Lord of hosts, vGod of Israel, which dwellest between the cherubim, thou art the God, even thou alone, of all the kingdoms of the earth. Thou hast made heaven and earth." After the ascension of the Lord, when the little company of disciples found themselves pre- cipitated by their faith into a most unequal con- DIAMOND DUST. «9 fs adequacy to I God, liat those who f God usually lent of the di- nd it, was not :ity by an as- nan attempts lUst be to his f. They said might be sat- )wer, and the r them from mortal terror ib's host, he "O Lord of t between the hou alone, of ou hast made rd, when the lem selves pre- unequal con- test with the authorities, they cried to God for help. With the fires of martyrdom beginning to scorch their faces, they felt intensely the need of a strong refuge; so they began their prayer by saying: "Lord, thou art God, which hast made heaven and earth and the sea and all that in them is," and immediately their faith touched the Divine Hand in the darkness, and the place where they were was shaken by his presence. 3. We must commit ourselves to the Divine guidance. There fe such a tangle of paths before us, only one of which can be right, we are often bewildered to know what course to take. No human plummet can sound the abyss of diffi- culty. No human strength can bridge the chasm. Like Solomon, when he stood in the presence of the tremendous responsibilities of life, we say: "I am a little child, I know not how to go out or to come in." Our Heavenly Father sees the end from the beginning, and we hav6 his prom- ise, "In all thy ways acknowledge him, and be shall direct thy paths." He will lead us, prob- ably not to that that will bring money or lux- ury, eclat or self-indulgence. If those accidents of life are in the way of a broad usefulness, we renounce them all, and he will save us from their' allurements. 30 DIAMaNO DVST. l\ John Wesley, the retiring, poetic, studious Oxonian, was led away from the quiet, scholarly life he would have chosen, to one packed with public cares and burdens and self-denials. For twenty long years he endured that miserable thorn in the flesh, a jealous, unprincipled wife. For half a century his Church bore down upon him with her broadsides of persecution, his brethren in holy orders usually leading the at- tack. When his followers had become so numer- ous that he had to be treated with a little leni- ency, he was afraid something had gone wrong with him, because he missed the mobs. The Apostle Paul was also of that fine, gen- tle, scholastic cast of mind that shuns notoriety and enjoys so intensely cloistered leisure with book.s. He was led of God in journeyings often, in perils of waters, in perils of robbers, in perils by his own countrymen, in perils. by the heathen, in perils in the city, in perils in the wilderness, in perils in the sea, in perils among false breth- ren, in weariness and painfulness, in watchings often, and, at last, he went to his throne from beneath the headsman's sword. The Lord Christ was a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief. He did not of himself choose the suffering, for he cried out during that supreme hour of anguish in Gethsemane, "If it f etic, studious liet, scholarly packed with denials. For hat miserable incipled wife, e down upon rsecution, his ading the at- tme so numer- \i a little leni- i gone wrong lobs. that fine, gen- luns notoriety 1 leisure with neyings often, hers, in perils / the heathen, he wilderness, ig false breth- in watchings s throne from f sorrows and ot of himself ut during that lemane, "If it DIAMOND DUST. 3« be possible, let this cup pass from me; never- theless, not my will but thine be done." We can not pierce the awful mystery of that redemptive agony. He staggered through its surges of anguish, grappling with and mastering the powers of evil. He was heard in that he feared, and his dying cry, "It is finished," was a victor's sJiout. The cross was his throne of tri- umph and it is our symbol of victory. We must drop into the little niche in the divine plan for which we were designed. We can work to advantage only when we move in harmony with the Unerring Will. 4. We must \\scvQ faith for results. God means at the eariiest possible hour to set this wrong old worid right. If we are in his hand, under his control, there is no possible chance for us to fail. •' 111 with his blessing is most good, And unblest good is ill ; And «U is right that seems most wrong. If it is bis dear will." They of whom the worid was not worthy, who subdued kingdoms, wrought righteousness,' obtained promises, stopped the mouths of lions, quenched the violence of fire, escaped the edge of the sword, out of weakness were made strong, waxed valiant in fight, and turned to flight the 3« wmmim DIAMOND DUST. armies of the aliens, wrought all their marvels by faith. But how can we attain "like precious faith?" The Savior askfd, "How can ye believe which receive honor one of another, and seek not the honor that cometh from God only." One of the first conditions upon which we may hope for the enlarged faith that is so impor- tant a factor in successful work for God is the renunciation of our desire for the approbation of oti»ers. That, however, is but one point of the complete self-surrender that is necessary. There must be a choice of the will of God in all things for all time. This must be as complete as we know how to make. Every suggestion of pos- sible service or suffering must be met with, "Yes, if it be his will, I will do it. I can trust him to keep me out of fanaticism and unneces- sary self-mortification. I simply put the conduct of my life into his hands." We must understand that the immanent God has a will in every item of our life, and the only safe and wise thing is for us to choose that will, no matter how our inclination may writhe and struggle and cry out in pain. Once when Marshal Ney was going into bat- tle he noticed that his knees were smiting to- gether from fear. Looking down at them, he mam-m i \f marvels by ike precious I ye believe er, and seek d only." )n which we : is so impor- r God is the •probation of point of the sary. There in all things nplete as we stion of pos- e met with, I can trust and unneces- t the conduct imancnt God and the only ose that will, y writhe and oing into bat- e smiting to- at them, he DIAAtOND DUST. 3, said: "You may well shake. You 'd shake worse yet if you knew where I am going to take you!" That was Ney holding Ney in the line of duty, ill spite of terror that curdled the blood, and it was by that resolute choice of right action that he earned the title of the "bravest of the brave." But how may we know that we are not cheat- ing ourselves, that we do in all things choose the will of God, that our surrender to him is complete ? We know whether or not we are honest in our purpose to do this; and when we are re- minded of the depth and deceitfulness of the human heart, we may reply, "I know that the Holy Spirit, to whom I am indebted even for my desire to be wholly under his control, and who knows my motives to their last shade of mean- ing,— is able, and cares to show me, if I fail of a complete surrender. I am so sure of this, I venture to say to my friends, to every body, if need be, I know through my confidence in his helping power that I am wholly given to God." After that it is easy to believe that he has you in his hand, and he works in you to will and to do of his good pleasure the condition neces- sarily antecedent to your greatest usefulness. You may assert by faith in the blood of the ' everlasting covenant that he saves from the old 3 34 DIAMOND DUST. egotism and fits the soul for the best work for himself. The soul "enters into rest," profound, sweet, holy. There is no further care about the choice of work. God, to whom the life is committed, will lead by his spirit so that all things shall work together for good. The responsibility of result is all with God. There is nothing to do but to go on gladly, trustfully, doing to the best of the ability what he would have done, leaving the outcome with him. The suffrage of the world and the "Well done" of God are given finally to those who work by this rule of submission and trust. ••Count m« o'er ewtli'i chosen heroes; they were souls th«t stood alone, While the men they agonized for hurled the contumelioue stone, Stood serene, »nd down the future saw the golden beam incline To the bide of perfect justice mastered by their faith divi-"- By one man's plain truth to manhood and to God's .u^ mo design, By the light of burning heretics Christ's bleeding feot I track, Toiling up new Calvaries ever with tlie cross th; turns not back. And these mounts of anguish number how eat generation learned - One new wor.l of that grand eredo which in prophet-heart* hath burned, Since the first man stood Gotl-conquered with his face to lieaven upturned. DIAMOND DUST. as best work for ofound, sweet, out the choice is committed, 11 things shall sponsibility of nothing to do ng to the best : done, leaving nd the "Well to those who nd trust. ey were souls that 1 the contumellom [olden beam incline heir faith divin*". I to God'K sup. me ceding fet-t I track, cross thn< turns not >w e&c generation I in prophet-hearts 1 with his face to For humanity .weep, onward ! where (o-day the martyr stands. On the morrow crouches Judas, with the silver in l>is hands. Far in front the cross stands ready and the crackling fairols burn, • • While the hooting mob of yester.lay in silent awe return I u glean up the scattered ashes for history's golden urn." A picture of Florence Nightingale represents her by the bedside of a dying soldier in a Cri- mean hospital. In tiie background a poor, homesick fellow has raised himself in his cot and is passing his hand caressingly, reverently over her shadow on the opposite wall— rendering un- conscious homage to her boundless self-giving. A friend wrote her once, asking for some facts of her life for publication. Her reply was about this: "There is nothing worth writing about me. I have done nothing, God has done all. He haa been pleased to take a very plain, ordinary woman and use her in his service. I have worked hard, very hard, and I have never denied God any thing." Of another of the mighty ones whose weak life was so charged with the diamond dust of divine power that it cut through adamantine mountains of difficulty, the record is, "Abraham believed God, and he counted It to him for righteousness." Stanley says: "Powerful as is the effect of these words when we read tl.\em in their first untar- ' nished freshness, they giiin immensely in their riii BM***" -.""^^Wii Hii aanmiii IM IHKtt DIAMOND DUST. 'original language, to «hlch neid.er Greek jr Gefman, much les» Latin or Engl.sh, «.n farm* any full equivalent. • He was supported, he was built UP he reposed as a child in .ts mother s 'rms' [sich seems the force of the Hebrew word] '"'lU'r^l'pH^nege of ever, believer in -frr^r:-.?:rdrir:fi 7t^ p--' --^: TJ^rzi::. help that comes only Irom compi and restful trust. md Greek nor can furnish rted, he was its mother's ebrew word] y believer in :apons of our en by divine d to the pull- ave the sense f omnipotent ;te obedience THINKING. JMJftKgiK^. 37 T^HE demand of the time is for trained think- ■*- ing. The great need of God's work is con- secrated tho"ght. We desire to be broadly useful. We attempt many things in which we fail. Our failures throw us into the deepest humiliation and despondency. We have seasons of resolving to be intensely vig- ilant and active, followed by corresponding lapses into unprofitableness. We never are, but always are to be, of some use in the world. Unless something changes the current and character of our effort, the chances are that old age or death will find us like some convocations of well mean- ing people, resolving and resolving, "only that and nothing more." Perhaps the clew that will lead us out of this labyrinth of failures may be found to be a habit of direct, sure thought under God's guidance. An item of advice given by the London ad- miralty to its seamen in regard to the m^inage- ment of a ship in a hurricane beguis with this sentence; "Stand erect and look in the wind's eye." It may be well for us to stand erect and 38 DIAMOND DUST. m look in the eye the difficulties that hold us from our best possible achievement. If we find the trouble to lie in our slipshod, zigzag methods ot thought, let us do our best to amend. In earnest glance at the world's affairs w.ll convince us that thinking pays. It increases the mental volume. The more we do in any hne, the more we can do. It is the arm that^vorks that has muscle and vigor. It is the bram that thinks that has power to think to good purpose. Thinking has a market value. Deft fingers are worth far more in a business than clumsy ones are; and even in what seems simply to depend on physical skill, success hinges upon the quick- ness and sureness of the thought. There is no appreciable difference in the quality of the mus- cie, or blood, or nerve in the cunning or the awkward hand. The difference is m the mind that directs the movements of each. Success in any avocation is not usually a matter of special endowment, but of disciplined thought. What makes the difference in the wages of those who go out to service? You have a serv- ant whom you have to tell but once how you want a thing done. She understands and re- members. Her work is worth a dollar a week more than that of another who brings to you as pleasant ways, larger experience, and more mus- THINKING. 39 old us from we iiiid the methods of s affairs will increases the in any line, [I that works le brain that ood purpose. ;ft fingers are clumsy ones ily to depend on the quick- There is no \f of the mus- nning or the I in the mind I. Success in tter of special jght. the wages of tt have a serv- jnce how you tands and re- dollar a week •ings to you as and more mus- cle, but who is forever forgetting or neglecting some important item of home comfort. You can well afford to pay the thoughtful housekeeper all she chooses to ask for her services. Her planning, "executive force," as we sometimes call it, adds at least one-half to her availability. Her thoughtfulness is of no small value to you, if it leaves you free to use your thought upon other and possibly more important matters, though it is not easy to believe that any business can be more important than that the home be kept as it ought to be. Many a failure is due to the ill -temper and the nervous unhingement caused by a smoky breakfast-room, burnt steak, or cold cakes. In mechanical operations the question of financial success hinges upon the formula, the more thought, the better pay. If one thinks nimbly and strongly enough to keep the muscles of two others at work, he becomes three men. If a hundred, he multiplies his producing force a hundred times ; and in just, so far as he can think out the work of others better than they can do it for themselves, he is entitled to profit on their work. That is the way in which honest men get rich. If one can plan so that the strength of another is worth as mudi again as if would be without his thought, he is entitled to •■ 40 DIAMOND DUST. a share of the extra gains. That is fair. The thought field is open to all. If one wants the better paying position, let him learn also to think rapidly and reliably. It is hard work to learn thinking, but it ren- ders the best returns to all classes of workers, from the bootblack trying to establish his re- spectability by presenting a clenn face in the Mis- sion school, up to Bismarck and Disraeli playing their cosmopolitan game, with kings and em- perors for chessmen. Great achievements are not accidental. They are the result of tireless thought. . It was not the genius of a demi-god that so nearly laid Europe at the feet of the great Na- poleon. It was the ccwjeless energy of a hercu- lean thinker. While other men slept, he would sit by the hour bending over his maps, and planning his campaigns. With colored pins he represented the forces in the contest. Tlie green pins were Russians, the blue pins Prussians, tlie red pins the British, and the white pins his own soldiers. If the allied armies were to inove upon a certain point, he would bring up his niien by forced marches to its relief. If they crossed the river here, he would fall back so and so. Thus through the livelong night in that great, tough brain, armies were marching and counter-m^rch- HMi IKH THINKING. 4» s fair. The lie wants the also to think y, but it ren- of workers, blish his re- e in the Mis- raeli playing igs and em- ental. They i-god that so he great Na- >r of a hercu- pt, he would s maps, and ored pins he . Tlie green 'russians, tlie pins his own o move upon his ihen by y crossed the id so. Thus great, tough junter-march- ing. and those plans were wrought out that astonished the woild with the brilliancy of their success. It holds true of every enterprise, whether it b' for Satan, or self, or God; its success, other th.ngs being equal, depends upon the amount of clear, definite, contimmts tlumght that is given to its planning and execution. If one would work well, he must learn to think well. Few people study thei'r mental movements carefully enough to understand their lack of ability for sustained thought. One may test himself by watching his at tempts at listening to a lecture. He seats him- self with a determination to give his v^ry best attention to the subject in hand. After two or three minutes some word of the speaker rsminds him of a teacher of his, and in a twinkling he is in the eld New England school-house, with the boys buzzing and shuffling and playing sly tricks. John Smith used to sit by him. Poor John ! He was killed in that Ashtabulf .isaster. Whatater- ble thing that was, to be sure. He would have been in it if he hadn't lain over in Rochester. That trip to San Francisco was lucky all the way through. What a .set those Chinese are that saw there. How queer it would seem to be in China where all the people look like those odd 4a DIAMOND DUST. specimens. He is called home from the Celestial Empire, not by the subject under discussion, but by a bustling step at his side — Doctor Dosem! Wonder if he is as busy as he tries to make out ! He has lost a good slice of the lecture by com- ing so late. The lecture ! Shades of the Greeks ! If that lecturer has not reached his thirdly, and not a word of secondly has caught the erratic attention of this average listener! Let him test himself in another way. Let him resolve to think steadily for ten minutes upon any given subject, whether it be the care of his health, the salvation of his soul, or any other vital matter. He will find his thought wandering like the eyes of a fool to the ends of the earth. If so much as a fly buzzes near, it will snap the gossamer thread of his thought and set it flying a thousand leagues from the subject in hand. How can we leant to think continuously and rapidly? How can this rickety, lumbering, un- reliable thinking-machine be put in such repair that it can be depended upon to do a given amount of work in a ^ven time, and not waste "nine-tenths of its force in dawdling? We learn thinking by thinking.* Practice makes perfect. A little girl can not learn to make the thread go directly through the eye of he Celestial cussion, but tor Dosem! I make out! ire by com- the Greeks! thirdly, and the erratic way. Let ten minutes be the care soul, or any his thought the ends of Ezes near, it thought and I the subject inuously and nbering, un- such repair do a given id not waste g. Practice not learn to li the eye of THINKING. 4S her needle till she has thrust it this side and that at least a thousand times. She can not learn to take up the proper amount of cloth at each fetitch, and set each stitch beside the one nearest to which it belongs, till she has pricked her finger to roughness in false passes. A boy does not learn skating from lectures on that pastime, but by buckling on the skates and testing his ability to retain the perpendicular. He learns to let the center of gravity fall within the base from the penalty attending an infraction of that law, in the way of an emphatic bump on the ice now and then. We send our boys and girls to school, and they are crowded through declensions and para- digms day after day, not that by and by they are to earn a livelihood by repeating those in- tricate and bewildering linguistic differences, but they will need in any business the steady, straight thinking that can be developed only by these and similar exercises. When they venture out upon the glare Ice of their lyceum argumentations and other wit contests, we clap hands and cry, "Bravo!" We know that they are learning the use of their metaphysical skates as certainly while their feet are gyrating through the air, and they are meas- uring their length in an intellectual tumble, as H \ MH|^MMK> 44 DIAMOND DUST. when they astonish lookers-on with wonderful evoUitions In the mental rink. How can we train ourselves to direct thinking? -Shall we choose a subject and sit down with a determination to lash ourselves over a given line for a given time, till we learn to go through the exercise properly? By no means. Our minds would resent such treatment and play us any number of shabby tricks, rather than submit to the arbitrary discipline. They would be as in- tractable as little girls whom antiquated maidens oblige to sew seaips of infinite length and tedi- ousness by flourishing homilies over their heads, instead of beguiling the tiresome monotony by some pretty story or sentiment. We would re- bel so resolutely against the exercise that a nerv- ous fever or something worse would be the result. There must be something about which we think while we are learning to think that seems, for the time at least, to be worth the effort. There needs to be usually the social element enabling us to compare our work and progress with that of others, and receive stimulus from emulation and appreciation. Few are earnest knd patient enough to work their way alone through the memorizing of the terminology of a science or language. It can be done, however, and it must be held as a dernier ressort in case thinking: 45 tct thinking f lown with ai a given line through the Our minds }lay us any n submit to Id be as in- ited maidens th and tedi- their heads, lonotony by ^e would re- that a nerv- )e the result. it which we : that seems, \ the eiTort. cial element md progress imulus from are earnest r way alone linology of a ne, however, ssort in case one is deprived of the helps of teachers and class drill that are found in college study. If one is young enough the best thing is to take a colUgiaU course. Poverty is no excuse in this land where colleges are so numerous and democratic. If we set out upon a course of mental drill we will find it talces all the energy of the faculty with their "honors" and "stand- ing" and every motive they can bring to bear upon us to keep us at work. So lawless are we by nature, it will seem the supreme happiness to escape from the grinding machinery and turn Modoc or Arab or any body who does not have to study. The more our school work annoys us, the more certainly do we need it, and the more resolutely must we determine to drive or wheedle or coax ourselves through its drudgery. But suppose we are too old or too heavy- laden to go to school? What then? Let us set before us the example of the learned blacksmith and others who have done wonders in this line, even while earning their living at hard labor. Let us remember that all things are possible, " Heart within and God o'erhead." Let US mark out an easy tine of study that we can hold evenly, and then let us not turn aside for any thing. 4« DIAMOND DUST. I knew a woman who had the care of her house, doing all its work without help, and aid- ing her husband in his ministerial duties as far as she could, yet she managed to acquire the equiv- alent of a college course, and much besides. She swept her house to the rhythm of Tennyson and Longfellow. She bent over her ironing- board with a German grammar open beside her work, and repeated. Ich bin, du bist, er ist, while »he smoothed the sheets and pillow-cases. She crowded her house care into the closest possible compass— without robbing the home of its com- fort—that she might get time to study. That of itself was an excellent exercise. Along at first she gave only fifteen minuKs a day to the language or science she was busy upon; but she kept a close account with -herself, and if, by any chance, she lost the fifteen minutes, she made up the time ab- soon as the cdmpany was gone or the obstacle removed. By thus obliging herself to perform a given amount of work each day she was preparing herself for heavier duties in the future; and by saving the fragments of time she was acquiring the means for the better discipline and enrichment of her mind. In learning tD think, What shall «v study f We may answer in general terms. Just what we do not want to study. Each line of mental exer- care of her ;lp, and aid- ties as far as re the equiv- uch besides, of Tennyson her ironing- in beside her er ist, while ceases. She >sest possible e of its corn- study. That >. Along at a day to the pon; but she , and if, by minutes, she :dmpany was thus obliging of work each leavier duties fragments of for the better ind. ■m study f^e t what we do mental exer- THINKING. 47 else is meant to develop the powers in a certain direction. If a given line is easy and agreeable, it is quite certain that one has already the devel- opment that would be the result of that disci- pline. For instance, linguistic drill gives quick- ness, nimbleness of thought. If one translates readily from one language into another, he is obliged to spring from one to the other with the utmost rapidity. You are talking to a German. You think "house," but, before you can recall its German equivalent, the French "maison" that you learned in your childhood thrusts itself for- ward impertinently and almost drops from your tongue tip. You dart back and rummage a drawer full of Greek and Latin odds and ends. Something suggests the kinship between the En- glish and German, and, the ear getting a chance to give a hint, you bring out the word you are looking for — "/taus." That portion of duration called time has been gliding along all this while, and, as in a beginner's practice upon the piano, there are such long pauses between the objective points, your speaking is any thing but concise and correct. When the student of music learns, to think rapidly enough to get his perception of the note in the printed lesson telegraphed to his hand; bringing his finger down upon the right key. ifmwiWMWiifiiw mmtm 'tismi^wmmfmmm"-^- 48 DIAMOND DUST. i|i witli no appreciable loss of tiinr |t we vote him accomplished. So when jf glory and the Pabulum f Cer- events that is chopped up for us and sensationally seasoned by reporters and daily editors. If we desire to learn the art of forgetting, and surely the years will teach us that, let us cram our minds with what we have no wish to carry twenty-four hours. If we go through the reports of scandal suits, mur- ders, domestic embroglios, and the like, it will be well for us if we are able to forget the bulk of what we read. There can be very little food for the mind in tons of such material. Foul air, decaying vegetables, and diseased meats fatten fof the maw of the pestilence the unwashed masses that fester in the alleys and dens of great cities. Dime novels and similar fulsome, sensual, vile publications poison the unthinking people, and fit them to be carried off by the pest winds of Mormonism, Spiritism, free-lovism, diabolism. We will find healthy mental food in history, art, science, poetry and, above all, as a staple, in God's Book, that fotintain and aggregate of all truth. We may indulge now then and in a little of the best -made fictional sweetmeats, but our minds can gain solid strength only from solid aliment. We will not grow strong by devouring books. Seneca said, " Read much, but read few books." The mental exercises of some students are sim- S4 DIAMOND DUST. ply mnemonic. Tlieir knowledge is cyclopaedic- all in quotation points. Such people are exceed- ingly convenient to save the time of thinkers. They can give you what you need on demand, with no rummaging of books, but when they need to put forth a personal intellectual effort, they are as weak and helpless as children. We are always wondering why they do not amount to more, and we conclude that being able to rat- tle other men's words from the pen's point or tongue's tip, may make a clever quotationist, but never a strong, rich thinker. We must digest what we eat if we would ap- propriate to ourselves its strength. So we must make what we read our own by taking it to pieces and absorbing its substance. To get the best intellectual strength let us learn first aur own language, as Lowell calls it — " that wonderful composite known as English, the best result of the confusion of tongues." It is the speech in which we pfay and praise, make our bargains and win our friends. It is certainly of prime importance that we should know the use and meaning of its words and phrases and sentences, so that when we intend to say one thing we may not give utterance to quite another, that, though like what we would say, does not convey its actual meaning. How miich bitter- 1 ^ •r THINKING. 55 cyclopedic— e are exceed- of thinkers. on demand, it when they ectual effort, Kildren. We > not amount ig able to rat- )en's point or >tationist, but we would ap- So we must ' taking it to rength let us veil calls it — n as English, tongues." It 1 praise, make It is certainly tuld know the 1 phrases and id to say one quite another, say, does not r miich bitter- ness and heart-burning, how many quarrels would have been saved if they whose vernacular is En- glish had so learned their native tongue as to be able to speak it intelligibly, saying simply and only what they mean. How much more thought we could get time for, if we were not so busy with trying to find the exact meaning of what others have written and said. How much more actual Christian achievement there would be if the talking folk gave us their meaning in plain, exact language. It is difficult to understand English without a knowledge of the wise, motherly, old Latin and also of French and German, for we must know that "phonetic decay and dialectic regen- eration," as Max MUller would say, have so changed the face of many of our words, that we can get their exact significance only by going back to their early home and associations. Linguistic study not only disciplines to readi- ness, it enriches and ei^ nobles our thought. As the fertility of Egypt depends upon the overflow of the Nile, and each inundation leaves an allu- vial deposit, so every stream of new thought that flows over the mind leaves upon it some- thing of its own richness and strength. Whether it be the copious, resonant Latin, the imaginar tive German, the dignified Spanish, the musical 56 DIAMOND DUST. Italian, the polished Greek, the poetic Hebrew, or that wonderful Sanskrit, — a language mas- tered adds to the intellectual volume. And this is true also of an author. ' 'le has the verdict of the thoughtful and far-s^eing, it will pay to read carefully what he has taken pains to write. We must not read along skim- in'ngly. page after page, hoping to come to an understanding with him, and get at his meaning after a while. Let us read word by word, line by line, sentence by sentence, till we are satis- fied that we take in the substance of his thought as far as we are able to apprehend its force. A few pages plodded through in this laborious manner, and our fine thinker is conquered. He can but tell us what he means to say. A certain reading of Dante's "Divina Com- media" will serve to illustrate this point. A trio of friends, resting in the woods, took up the work of the mighty Italian, and read it in an easy, sauntering way, after the day's merry- making or study. They usually left the poor victims of Dante's punitive genius to boil, or broil, and dropped off to sleep in the midst of the infernal terrors, with a peaceful sense of having done their duty by la crhne de la crhne of polite literature. Neither dared say to the others " Dante is certainly stupid, . in spite THINKING. VI Stic Hebrew, iiguage tnas- e. ithor. ' 'le id far-s«.eing, ie has taken I along skim- come to an his meaning >y word, line we are satis- f his thought its force. A lis laborious quered. He y- Divina Corn- Is point, A , took up the ead it in an iay's merry- eft the poor 3 to boil, or n the midst :aceful sense crhne de la dared say to pid, . in spite of the eulogiums of the critics, and Longfellow's translation is wretched English." After a while it occurred to them to study this poet of whom so many fine things had been written and said. Then the ; ,d that each line was replete with poetic power, pach sentence held some figure of speech all aglow with the fire of genius. They learned wisdom from their foolish waste of op- portunity. If one would go easily through a study, he must master its axioms at the outset. My friend has been supposed to have special power over the scraggy mathematical quantities that are such a terror to ordinary students. The secret of her success cropped out one day when she told me that her mother never permitted her to learn a new rule or theorem in arithmetic or algebra, till she had wrought some of the examples, study- ing out for herself the principle which was in- volved, and making for her own understanding a formula. v> She learned also from the same wise teacher that a few hours of extra time given to the first chapters of a book where its principles are being laid down, will save days of lumbering, crippled attempts to wade through its later prob- lems. "It is the first step that counts" in more senses than one. 58 DIAMOND DUST. Our Hebrew professor holds us for hours upon the first paragraphs of the Bible. "Get those words perfectly," he says, as he picks them to pieces, one by one; "know them in all their rela- tions, and you will have passed through the gate that admits you to this wonderful revelation of God." He tell us that when he was a student in the Viatican University in Rome, his father, spend- ing a few days with him, noticed a fault in his general leading. His grandfather had given him a hundred ducats with which to buy books, and he was quite proud of his little library. His father observed, however, that during the fifteen minutes between lecture hours, he glanced over the pages of a half dozen books, and before he had selected one into which he might dip, the time was up, and he had to go back to his pro- fessor. When he came from the lecture room, his father told him that during the three years that he was to remain in the university he could be permitted to read nothing but Darte, Pe- trarch, Goethe, Shakespeare, and Milton, be- cause, if he kept up his studies as he ought, he would have only these fragments of time for general reading. It would not do for him to lose half his time deciding what to read, and the other half in getting hold of the thread of the author's thought. The writers chosen have an f - hours upon "Get those cks them to ill their rela- igh the gate evelation of a student in ither, spend- fault in his id given him r books, and ibrary. His g the fifteen |r1anced over id before he ght dip, the : to his pro- ^ture room, three years iity he could Darte, Pe- Mikon, be- lie ought, he of time for for him to ■ead, and the iread of the •sen have an THINKING. 99 idea in every sentence. Their works may be opened anywhere, and there is something di- rectly under the eye well worth the reading. They ennoble our minds by holding before them the finest imagery, the sublimest soaring of im- agination, or the most subtle analysis of human character. There is a double lesson in this rule of the thoughtful father: What we read must be of the very best, that that gives a full, rounded idea in the fewest words, and so is most provocative of thought, and also that we must use to the best advantage the odds and ends of time. The ordinary way of getting rich is by saving the small sums — economy in little expenditures. To get much knowledge o.ie must use the scraps of time. Any avocation usually makes a demand that covers the whole of one's time. If he does his work well he has only minutes left for read- ing. Now, the one who crowds up to a better place where he may have firmer standing-room, and a broader outlook, is the one who thinks so carefully through the details of his work that he can do it more rapidly, and so save a little time ; then he uses every moment to push his ability toward that to which he aspires. In this way, to him that hath more is given. Some excuse themselves from reading on the BH I s 60 DIAMOND DUST. score of their being pn ised with care, driven by business. We notice, however, that those same overburdened people manage to wade through any amount of matter in the daily papers, with now and then a cheap story that takes hours for the working up of its wonderful matrimonial dinouement. Wesley not only studied philosophy, Biblical criticism, and philology on horseback, but he wrote excellent works on those subjects. We might, any of us, find time for a great deal of good reading if we would use the hours that are spent in driving to market, going upon visits, riding to and from business. We see in the street-cars whole rows of women who are gossip- ing with eye or tongue upon the cut of chil- dren's sacques, the style of ladies' cloaks, etc., and tiers of men who are intrenched behind a hastily written and badly printed sheet engaged upon a more expensive order of gossip, and one not always as innocent; but only once in a dozen rides do we see one — excepting always the students who are driven to use this time to keep up with their classes — who is busy upon some work that will give scope and breadth and grasp of thought. Perhaps at most one can give only minutes to reading. Then let him read the best. If he M^bi 11 , driven by :hose same le through apers, with s hours for natrimonial ly, Biblical :k, but he jects. We :at deal of irs that are pon visits, see in the are gossip- rut of chil- loaks, etc., i behind a et engaged ip, and one once in a ing always :his time to busy upon >readth and ily minutes «st. If he THINKING. «i will study with Shakespeare the modes of thought and expression, and the life of those old Eliza- bethan days, he will find that he has a gallery of antiquated English art next door to his shop or oflfice, sewing-room or kitchen. If he has only ten minutes to spare, instead of gossiping with a neighbor about some ephemeral excite- ment, some nine days' wonder, or with tout U MOiide through the daily press about some larger item of astonishment, he steps into his gallery, shuts out the work-a-day world, and laughs or cries with the mighty magician over his Portias, Desdemonas, and Hamlets. Somehow he finds an interpretation gf many of the little events of life, lifting them out of the commonplace, and showing how they bear, like the minor points in the plot of a story or play, upon the tremendous whole of being. Men and women of genius interpret us to ourselves. If we listen to them, we may find the grand harmony of which even the discords are a necessary part. They will certainly give us to see through the shallow pretenses of the strutting, small people, and we will learn to seek the grand, ultimate good, even though it be by the way of Gethsemane and Calvary. The rev- elations of genius supplement and emphasize those of the Book of God. They are the out- 6a D/AMOND DUST. ill 'it lying fringes of the meanings of the Infinite. Though they must never supplant the divine teaching, they may help to an apprehension of its fullness of thought. Our tliinking, to be right, must be from the right motive. Much fine thinking is in the in- terest of selfishness, mammon, sin, and so is all wrong. It may move men mightily, but it is down the inclined plane toward perdition. Such thinkers may be gifted with " The art Napoleon Of wooing, wiitning, wielding, fettering, banding Ttie hearts of million* tili they iiiuve ns one," yet they are doomed to ultimate defeat. God's puipose is the only power that moves to sure, final victory. Emerson says, "Hitch your wagon to a star." We would say, rather, Bring your tiny purpose into harmony with Him who made and manages the stars, and you can not fail of right results. That our thinking may be successful, as well as right and strong, we must consecrate our mental powers to God. Some well-meaning people mistake at this point. They take the service of God as some- thing that is required, and must be gone through, like working on the road, or doing military duty ; or they regard it a somewhat unpleasant neces- ;^,i. THINKING. he Infinite. the divine ehension of be from the s in the in* nd so is all ^, but it is tion. Such >n banding le," feat. God's t^es to sure, n to a star." iny purpose nd manages [it results, isful, as well isccrate our ake at this 3d as some- >ne through, ilitary duty ; asant neces- sity, like carrying a life insurance, to guard against a possible exigency. They mean to escape hell and get to heaven, but they intend to have money, place, and power on the way. Now, let them devote their mental ability to the service of Him who cl .ims all, and they will find that Mie primal use of consecrated thinking is the work.iig out of a clearly cut crystalline character. Others, who recog.iize more fully the Lord's right to the best .... the lif , mista'te in this: they regard religion as an aff . of tiie emotions, and having very little to d> 'vith the intellect. They watch tlv ; '^ensibilities as refuUy as a physician notes the symptoms of iiis patient. They keep diaries in which they note just how they felt at such a time, and under such and such circumstances, as if the condition of the feelings were a sure exponent of the state of grace. Conspicuous among those who live by senti- ment rather than by faith (which is another name for religious common sense) are the old Romish saints and recluses, who regarded pious meditations and introspection the sum of relig- ious -'ury. They kfpt that most subtle and variable and uncertain part of the nature, the emotional, forever under the microscope. No '^itik^^0S^^^ii^^^^Mi-^^*^M^i^'^-' .■■i^^-a/i:.v.^*fe'9ff'Sfe^^-.',itwiu^t*,-iW.M*«WMtiliiM!ll«>.'.. I: DIAMOND DUST, ceed in getting a dozen drunkards to take the pledge; then he should leave them — making no eflTort to help them find employment, better associations, and decent homes. They may go back to their old haunts among the whisky stenches, and fight the devils single handed till they shall chance to hear again the eloquence that roused them to a sense of danger, A thousand wonders if every one of them is not back again in the ditch by Saturday night. We ought to use our very best thought upon this work of helping to assured, estab- lished Christian life the "babes" of Christ's household. If we know one of them to be staggering under temptation, we ought to take up his case as we would a difficult problem, one upon which were pending tremendous issues. If need be, we should spend hours in close, prayerful study, measure his infirmities, his pe- culiarities; think how he could be reached, how held. Trusting the Savior's help, ten to one, we could get him again out of Satan's clutches. If, through our lack of care, he is permitted to go back to his sins, his state will be infinitely worse than at first, for he will take to himself seven other spirits more wicked than himself. Thought given to this work pays abundantly. Did not the sulvation of souls cost Christ his ' I to take the ;m — making ment, better hey may go the whisky : handed till le eloquence danger, A them is not night. lest thought lured, estab- of Christ's :hem to be ight to take Toblem, one lous issues. tS in close, ties, his pe- ;ached, how, I to one, we 's clutches, lermitted to be infinitely to himself an himself, abundantly. t Christ his THINKING. 69 X life? Heaven is eternal growth and glory, hell a fathomless horror. Family religion gives ample scope for the best thinking. Family piety is one of the most potent agencies for the perpetuity of the Chris- tian Church, yet how little do good people understand and use its power. In many fam- ilies religious instruction is left altogether 'to the Sunday-school teacher and the pastor. If, from force of habit, the parents take the duties that belong to the heads of families, recognizing God at the table, and worshiping him once or twice a day as a household, it is in such a me- chanical, meaningless way, that it were better left undone. A long chapter with never a ques- tion or a word of explanation or illustration, and a longer prayer. Little feet fidget upon chair rounds till they are nervous enough to fly in spite of the most dignified propriety. Big boys and giris rebel. The father scolds and tightens the rein for awhile, and ends in letting them do as they please. The mother protests in a meek way, and comforts herself with a determination to ask pra, ers for them, and to get the minister to come and talk to them, hoping that they will be "converted this Winter." Oh, what blunders! The power of music untried, the teaching of Scriptural truth I 70 DIAMOND DUST. with note and anecdote — giving Hebrew eyes with which to see into this wonderful Hebrew Book, that alone contains the way of salva- tion — all warm, genial, earnest means of home grace unused, and the children growing up to vote "prayers" an unmitigated bore, and the Bible the most stupid of books— driven to hate the faith of their fathers by the cold, formal attempts at family worship. How unlike God's plan for home piety and instruction. "Hear, O Israel: the Lord our God is one Lord: and thou shalt love the Lord tliy God with all thine heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy might. And these words, which I command thee this day, shall be in thine heart : and thou shalt teach them diligently unto thy children, and shalt talk of them when thou sittest in thine house, and when thou walkest by the way, and when thou liest down, and when thou risest up." Even with this divine injunction as a model, there is need of the closest, strongest thinking, if one would train his family to earnest religious life. Sabbath-school workers need to bring to their most important work well-disciplined, consecrated thought. In our public - schools, teaching is studied most carefully. Hours are given each week by each teacher to learning the best 'wiuSnEKSilSS^TU THINKING. 71 ebrew eyes •ful Hebrew ly of salva- tis of home wing up to re, and the iven to hate cold, formal inlike God's God is one rd tliy God ly soul, and rds. which I thine heart: :ly unto thy thou sittest kest by the \ when thou njunction as st, strongest ly to earnest ring to their , consecrated teaching is given each ig the best methods of imparting instruction. It is not enough that one is thoroughly versed in the study, she must know the best way of drawing out the young mind, and bringing it to exercise its powers upon the text-book in hand. She must understand how, with object lessons, pic- tures, blackboards, to make truth simple and tangible. Sabbath-school teaching has undergone a change for the better, and yet it is only the specialists, the pioneer thinkers, who bring the same acumen to this work that is so useful in the public-schools. Their modes, that seem so wonderful by contrast with the old, humdrum ways of Bible teaching, do not come from the intuitions of genius, nor from a religious ecstasy. The love of Christ constrains them to put forth effort, common sense holds them to close thought, and thus they work out the plans that make the world-wide changes in Sunday-school teaching, just as thinking wrought Robert Ful- ton's crude notions of steam navigation into the Great Eastern — a floating city. Any one who knows enough to be intrusted with the care of a school or a class may accomplish similar results if he will give time and earnest, prayerful study to this question : ' ' How can I give my scholars the most Biblical truth in the least time?" I I If DIAMOND DUST. Of all people Chnstian pastors have the greatest need of strong, steady thinking. There is room for improvement in every department of their labor. Take the prayer-jjieeting, for instance. Its outer mechanism is generally left to adjust itself. The shallow and bold are often allowed to crowd out the talented and timid. The prayers may be as long and mechanical, the hymns as wretchedly sung and tedious, the ex- hortations as prosy and tiresome as dullness and formality could desire. One needs a good de- gree of piety to carry him safely through some Church prayer-meetings week after week. The young anfd moderately religious, the very ones who most need such means of grace, will not go, and there is no use in scolding. The only thing is to set about making the meetings better. They can be made as attractive as a social gathering, if one will take pains to pray and think out a plaa for their proper manage- ment. The people hunger for spiritual food. There will be no trouble about the attendance upon the social meetings of the Church, if they are conducted in a sensible manner, and with the presence and help of the Holy Spirit. Some ministers run in deeply worn grooves, round and round, year in and year out, doing exactly as they did a quarter of a century ago, 9 I THINKtNG. 73 ; the greatest lere is room ent of their or instance, :ft to adjust rten allowed imid. The hanicai, the Qus, the ex- jullness and a good de- rough some /eek. us, the very grace, will Iding, The le meetings active as a ns to pray er manage- itual food, attendance rch, if they , and with )irit. n grooves, out, doing :ntury ago, though mechanics, art, science, teaching, every thing is constantly advancing As one of many points in which Church management is a failure for lack of sure, definite thought and purpose, we can but notice the sing- ing. It has been proved in these latter days that more truth can be sung into the hearts of the people than they will take from sermon or exhortation. Yet, with all its power for good. Church singing is often useless if not positively harmful. It is left to shamble along subject to the caprice or vanity of thoughtless, irreverent people. Worship is suspended while the choir sings. If its antics are not amusing, they are immeasurably tedious. And this is not because singers are more troublesome or less manageable than other people. They are quite like others in doiiig a thing as it pleases them, when they are left to choose their own mode. To remedy this mischief random shots from the pulpit will hardly answer in place of well-ma- tured plans, upon which kind, common sense can bring all parties to agree. In selecting the officiary of the Church the most careful thought is necessary. It would be a saving of time and strength to think and plan a whole day over filling an important office, rather than to let the matter drift, and then have to manape an unruly Incumbent, or piece out one that is inefficient. Any Christian to whom the Lord has intrusted a responsibility in his work ought to think what is the most possible to be accomplished in that line, and how the best can be done for the cause he is set to serve. With his power to think con- secrated to Chriot, "leaning not to his own un- derstanding," but trusting for divine guidance and wisdom, let him study his material and arrange and dispose of it to the best advantage, mak- ing the ver>' most possible of every opportunity, be it small or great. Then having done all, let him trust for the blessing of God without which nothing can succeed. Some who come to understand that their fail- ure in Christian work is owing to a lack of con- secrated thinking, hope for a better life some time, but they do not comprehend their own re- sponsibility in the matter, and the need that they bring themselves to a broader efficiency. They wait for God to send upon them an immense passional force that shall bear them up to a higher plane, sudde. '> changing the life to what it ought to be. They forgot that all human character is hinged upon human effort, that God supplies the grace and demands that we use it, we determining by our choice the direction and i II or piece out has intrusted o tliink what ished in that for the cause to think con- his own un- guidance and and arrange intage, mak- opportunity, done all, let thout which lat their fail- lack of con- :r life some heir own re- ed that they ncy. They an immense m up to a life to what all human •t, that God : we use it, rection and THINKING, 75 t'.ie extent of the divine work. Otherwise, the Lord, and not we ourselves, vould be responsi- ble for our condition. '^'•ue Christian passivity is intensely active, and while we meet his requirement God never fails to do his part. When one chooses that all his life shall be used in Christ's service, he will fir J that God works in him to will and to do of his own good pleasure. He will prove ultimately tl'a^ the powers he was at such pains to wrcncli from their old selfish bias and turn toward God are by the Divine Father developed to their best strength. The Savior makes infinitivcly more of him than he could make of himself; and thus is demonstrated that word of the Master, " He that will lose his life for my sake shall save it," Each talent given into the Redeemer's hand is by his power and providence brought to its best polish and strength and put to the very best use. The Iawwiii»rt)l«Miin»w 76 DIAMOND DUST, it to Iiave liglu and warmth and room, bearing a plenteous harvest of good. Let Christian tljougUt be thoroughly cultured and completely consecrated < to the divine service, and the time will not be far distant when the Church shall move forth, "bright as the sun. fair as the moon, and terrible as an army with banners." Then vill dawn the golden day of peace, when " The Inst man shall stand Godconqiiered, With his fac« to heaven upturned," 9 room, bearing uglily cultured divine service, ant when the s the sun, fair m army with •f peace, when qiiereil, I." MARKIUD PKOPLB. 11 C*ONSECRATED thinking may yet master '' all problems of destiny. Thought has already wrought marvels in the material world. Phenomena that used to set men shivering and cowering because they were believed to be the work of demons, have been found to be only the result of natural law. In the older, more ignorant days, if an eclipse darkened the sun, or a tornado slipped its leash, or an earthquake moved forth in deadly might, the scared people imagined that dragons were devouring the worlds. In this braver time science springs into the path of ruin wrought by the cataclysm, gathers its facts, finds its law, and guards against its return. In the thinker's laboratory has been wrought out the wondrous mechanism that whispers from continent to continent, that makes patient draft- horses of fire and flood, that thrusts famine and pestilence and war back to their dens. In that same laboratory, by God's blessing, must order and well-being be evolved from the moral chaos, As the problem of bringing erratic physical forces mto harmonious action has lost much of ( its ruggedness and difficulty, so the inscrutable ethical questions that have loomed so hope- lessly in the path of all who have wrought for the world's bettering, are giving way before ear- nest thinking, patient toiling, and steady faith for divine aid. Evils that seemed as itiscrutable and inexor- able as destiny, grinding to powder the heart and hope of millions, have been analyzed by philosophic thought. The mischievous principle has been discovered and its elimination made possible. In reformatory, as well as in mechanical en- deavor, thinkers have stumbled over the sim- plicity of the right formula. The old Greeks, of whom Plotinus said, ' ' They used to get out of their bodies to think, " wrought their best upon the questions of moral renovation. The>^ move our pity— those men of peerless intellect standing, as Dante saw them ni his dream, "with calm, slow eyes" fixed on the unyielding problem. They failed always in their studies of art, letters, and law touching the ' moral and social life. They fumbled in vain for ■9 ig, must order ; moral chaos, rratic physical lost much of lie inscrutable led so hope- J wrought for ay before ear- steady faith B and incxor- ier the heart analyzed by /ous principle ination made echanical en- ver the sim- *lotinus said, ies to think," ons of moral those men of te saw them 5s" fixed on ed always in touching the d in- vain for MARRIED PEOPLE. 19 the mainspring of the regenerated civilization. It is revealed by Christianity alone. It is noth- ing more and nothing less than hottor and integ- rity in the homes of the peotle. Aristotle was within touch of the secret. He declared the- family to be the type of the state, thus almost guessing its tremendous import. If the mighty Stagyrite had taken another step and taught that the purity of the family is the power of the state, if he had found the divine method of cleansing that fountain of social activities, making ean the homes of the race, and if his dicta had been accepted in morals, as in logic, the gloomiest, bloodiest pag?s of history would have been spared. Pliny said there would be no state if there were no family ; an utterance that touches like the flicker of a taper the dense darkness that en- shrouded his magnificent Rome. Wolsey says that Rome rose by the sanctity of the family life and fell when that sanctity was undermined. In the purifying of the home sanctuary is found the solution of that problem of the ages — the bringing into right lines of the immense eth- ical forces that have run riot, working such hope- less, reckless ruin, such boundless wrong and outrage. li (Lii! Silr 'M. ; lr 11 80 DIAMOND DUST. The family can not be pure unless it is per- manent, and its permanence depends upon the permanence of marriage. Christianity alone makes provision for the per- manence of marriage, because of all religions it alone teaches the inherent dignity of humanity and the sacredness of inalienable human rights . Marriage is of God. Jehovah united the first pair. He put to sleep his masterpiece, the won- derful complex being he had made in his own image, and wakened them to the happiness of shared work and joy; as if he had made tangi- ble the gentler and more enduring part of human nature, clothing it in separate flesh that it might stand forth helping and helped, bone of man's bones, life of his life. In the writings of the great apostle we find an amphfication of the divine idea. "He that loveth his wife loveth himself; for no man ever yet hated his own flesh, but nourisheth and c!.er- isheth it, even as the Lord the Church." The Gospel rule of domestic life is above crit- icism. "Husbands, love your wives even as Christ also loved the Church and gave himself for It. So ought men to love their wives as their own bodies. For this cause shall a man leave his father and mother and shall be joined unto hi^ wife, and thdy two shall be one flesh inless it is per- pends upon the sion for the per- " all rehgions it y of humanity, human rights, united the first piece, the won- ide in his own 2 happiness of id made tangi- part of human 1 that it might l>one of man's postle we find a. "He that ■ no man ever heth and c!.er- urch." : is above crit- nves even as gave himself wives as their a man leave ; joined unto e one flesh. MARRIED PEOPLE, 8i Let every one of you in particular so love his wife even as himself, and the wife see that she reverence her husband." In all lands where the Bible has Httle or no power, the permanence and purity of the home are hardly known. Wherever Jehovah's will is not recognized as law, the marriage tie is a mere financial adjustment; men and women join them- selves to each other from iaipulse, and separate by caprice. No doubt there is a constant infringement of the husband's claim to reverence and love Probably he is cheated out of all those delicate, refinmg attentions that go to make the best of life— that that we live when the public eye is not "pon us, and we are simply and only ourselves Yet, as the condition of the woman is the more gross and appreciable exponent of the wrong, of that we usually speak. Among pagans the wife is bought and sold— the slave of man's lust or of his greed. Men hold thu-.v^elves above moral restraint, and re- ijard women as existing simply for their service and comiort. Among the Greeks and Romans, even when tV .■- peoples were at their best, the woman might not have a thought above her distaff. She v.'.is tho true woman who waited only upon 6 ;i I h a li DIAMOND DUST the pleasure of her lord, holding her love sacred to him, living or dead, as did Penelope while the vagrant Ulysses wandered, heart and foot, at his own sweet will. Caesar's wife must be above suspicion, though the private morals of that same Caesar, "the foremost man of all the world," were too Scan- dalous for record. A married \>^oman must sac- rifice herself in utter disconsolateness at her hus- band's death, though he had given a dozen othti' women a full share of his love. Christianity alone gives a woman the right to demand honor for honor, purity for purity. Only the religion of the Lord Jesus Christ places the woman, where Margaret Fuller said she must stand to give her hand with dignity, "fairly upon her feet." You look in vain among the golden thoughts of the "Divine Plato" for one syllable that helps a woman to- ward the starting-point that the Hebrew Bible gfave her — "a helpmeet for man." When Socrates was turning his steady eyes upon death, and giving forth some of the finest utterances that ever fell from his lips, in that supreme hour when his heart ought to have been most tender, he turned from his weeping wife with a contemptuous fling at the weakness and silliness of women. 4 MARRIED PEOPLE, 83 her love sacred elope while the and foot, at his ispicion, though e Caesar, "the were too Scan- » oman must sac- less at her hus- 1 a dozen othci' tan the right to r purity, rd Jesus Christ ret Fuller said d with dignity, look in vain f the "Divine IS a woman to- Hebrew Bible lis steady eyeS ne of the finest is lips, in that ht to have been 3 weeping wife i weakness and Hebrew women towered like desert palms above those of the heathen nations by whom they were surrounded— Sarah, empress-like in her beauty and strength ; Rachel, whose life was so pure it stood the test of a seven years' courtship, "and it seemed to Jacob but a few days for the love he had for her;" Miriam, who made the songs of her people while her brothers were getting its laws from God; Jael, who delivered her nation by killing the generalissimo of the enemy's forces; Deborah, who administered law and led armies; Esther, the beautiful diplomate, who saved her race from the in.pending doom. Solomon, that pioneer of Jewish literati, gives us the Biblical model of feminine character. The picture is drawn with Rembrandt strokes. Com- pare it with those in the Vedas and Shasters. They teach that a woman is inherently vile. She was so bad a man in some past statt of existence that she has been born a vraman as a punishment. The books of all non-Christiar writers abound in proverbs about the intrinsic and hopeless de- pravity of woman. The Hebrew philosopher shows his belief in the opposite. He speaks of the virtuous woman as if she were not only a possible idea, but an actual person. He sketches from life. She is industrious. "She seeketh MIT ' ! I DIAMOND DUST. wool and flax, and worketh willingly with her hands," "She riseth while it is yet night and giveth meat to her household, and a portion to her maidens." She is a business woman. "She maketh fine linen and selleth it. She delivereth girdles to the merchant. She perceiveth that her mer- chandise is good." She understands the laws that underlie the rise and fall of real estate, for "she considereth a ikld and buyeth it." She is any thing but feeble-minded, for "strength and honor are her clothing," Slw knows something and Ccin tell it in a wise way, for "she openeth her mouth with wisdom, and in her tongue is the law of kindness." She is benevolent. "She stretcheth out her hands to the poor; yea, she reacheth out her hands to the needy." She cares personally for the comfort of a well-managed home. "She looketh well to the way of her household." She has a happy family life. "Her children arise up and call her blessed; her husband, also, and he praiseth her." Her piety is the crowning glory of her life. "Favor is deceitful, and beauty is vain, but the MARRIED PEOPLE. 85 IHngly with her s yet night and lid a portion to she maketh fine ;reth girdles to that her mer- lat underlie the she considereth ble-minded, for hing." iin tell it in a er nrouth with s the law of jtcheth out her acheth out her ; comfort of a eth well to the "Her children - husband, also, ory of her lift, is vain, but the wonDan that feareth the Lord, she shall be praised." The degenerate Judaism of Christ's time had swung far enough away from the divine ideal. Its rabbis said, "He is a fool that at- tempts the religious instruction of a woman;" and "Let the words of the law be burned rather than given to a woman." Paul, whose utterances on this subject have been wrested by the unlearned and unstable to ihe destruction of thousands of souls, — Paul gives an epitome of his belief in this sentence: "There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither bond nor free, there is neither male nor female ; for ye are all one in Christ Jesus." When the Chris- tian Church cuts down through gloss and preju- dice to the core of the meaning of that utter- ance we may look for the millennium. The retrograde Christianity of the dark ages shut woman out of the world of sober thought and earnest endeavor, making her a drudge, or, at her best estate, a dainty plaything, on account of whose personal charms daft wights should write wretched rhymes, or doughty knights break each other's skulls. In the sixteenth century Francoise de Sain- toigne attempted to establish primary schools for girls. She was hooted in the streets of Paris, ^M^^^^ife'^l^i'^^^^H^I^^Ml^^'/l 1^ "tl ^ III r der when they are not so much as taught to spell in their childhood, nor can they ever attain to it in their whole lives. I know very well that those who are commonly called learned women have lost all manner of credit by their impertinent talka- tiveness. But there is an easy remedy for this if you once consider, after all the pains you may be at, you never can arrive in point of learning to the perfection of a school-boy. Your sex give more thought and application to be fools than to be wise and useful. When I reflect on this, I can not conceive you to be human crea- tures, but a certain sort of species hardly above a monkey, who has more diverting tricks than tl_l^;(lMiH»«ir > MARRIED PEOPLE. 87 ctors learned in upon her terri- er not the mis- i with devils, ngerous scheme ;an Swift wrote er marriage"— !ceived without /ice to a young little hard that in a thousand understand her J wv>r der when ;o spell in their in to it in their that those who )men have lost pertinent talka- emedy for this pains you may >int of learning )y. Your sex jn to be fools en I reflect on >e human crea- ks hardly above ing tricks than any of you, is an animal less mischievous and expensive, might, in time, be a tolerable critic in velvet and brocade, and for aught I know would equally become them." Phidias said of his statue of Minerva, " Give it the light of the public square." In giving this question the light of the centuries we find that in no land or time in all this sorrowful world has there ever been hope or heart for women except as the religion of the Lord Jesus Christ has borne sway. Women never had and never can have a firmer, better friend than the Son of Mary. Of all systems of philosophic and relig- ious thought none has given her the place ac- corded to her by Protestant Christianity. They who strike at the Church because some of its lim- itations are faulty and irksome, are like the An- cient Mariner who shot the albatross. They will bring down upon themselves a doom more bitter than death, that of the abominable old sensualisms. The Bible is woman's Magna Charta, and it is worse than suicide for her to set aside its pure, high truths. Marriage is a Biblical institution. The home is found only in Christian lands. Without Scrip- tural guards a woman's life is poor and petty and pitiful enough. The woman who has sufficient moral dignity to desire to be nobly and truly her- I . I li I DIAMOND DUST, self, and enough insight to see where the dan{,'er lies, must cherish Christianity as she would her own life— nay, Jier own soul. While the permanence of marriage may be nullified by the degradation of women, it is at- tacked no less fatefully/n>/« another quarter. . Before the abolition of slavery a southern lady wrote: "We women of the South are nierely the heads of harems." It was a fearful thing for slave- women to be at the mercy of the lust of their masters. It was a no less fearful thing for the civilization and the home that the masters were thus rendered liable to a devel- opment of the low, the sensual, the animal. Thoughtful, Christian people in the South saw with the utmost pain the danger to free institutions from this terrible maladjustment. Where the mis- chief was allowed to enter a household the har- mony and confidence necessary to a happy home were at an end. It did not need the genius of a Fanny Kemble for a woman to understand the cheat of giving her whole self to a man, while he divided his love between a legal family and two or three others not recognized by law. Thus servitude avenges itself. The very pres- ence of a subject class leads to "k most harmful development of character in those for whose com- fort the lower are deprived of natural rights. As i :l Hi MARRIED PEOPLE. 89 here the danger she would her arrlage may be vomen, it is at- her quarter. :ry a southern tlie South are t was a fearful e mercy of the no less fearful home that the )le to a devel- il, the animal, the South saw free institutions Where the mis- sehold the har- a happy home the genius of a understand the a man, while jal family and I by law. The very pres- most harmful or whose com- al rights. As "mercy blesseth him that gives and him that takes," so domestic wrongs curse the doer as heavily as the immediate sufferer tiierefrom. Pagan men have proved this by the ut^.er 'v all the "small, sweet courtesies," the te itlvs, ■au' '"ul, bracing home atmosphere fron- v'iiicl* ia. goes forth to face the rough, bad world, red, invulnerable as Achilles was when his motlicr dipped him in the Styx. Whoever holds another from a God-given right is guilty, not only of a crime against his victim, he sins most egregiously against himself. If he uses the power given him in his own do- mestic circle to perpetrate an injury that he would by no means endure from another, his sin is suicidal. He may be as handsome as a Turk, as proud as a Spanish grandee, as gifted as Lord Byron, as superbly selfish as Napoleon, yet he is stabbing to the heart the purity of his manhood, the integrity of his moral nature, and rendering impossible the best that this life can give him, the permanence and excellence of marriage and ,a home. The mischief wrought in domestic life by pride and passion does not stop with destroying the dignity of marriage. It is felt throughout the community and the state. The vanity and insolence developed by being allowed to lord it 90 DIAMOND DUST. \ • I over others, can but result in civil and national broils, brawls, and wars. The man who is accus- tomed to have his way. w . er it » .• reasonable or sottish, is not likely to have himself well in hand in a diplomatic encounter. A government \\\ the hands of such statesmen is in danger of constant entanglements and embroglios. The man who does not respect the rights of those upon whom he can trample with impunity can not be trusted to legislate upon the destinies of thousands who are at his mercy. In proof of this turn to those pages o^ history that record the growth and decay of th.a magnificent Persia, of the Roman Empire, of the Saracenic domina'- tion, of the rich old East Indian civilization Selfgovernment is at the base of ability to gov- cm others. It was not a mere accident that the apostle enjoined domestic purity and integrity upon the men who were to hold office in the Church, over- seeing her interests and shaping her polity. "A bishop then must be blameless, the husband of one wife, vigilant, sober, of good behavior, given to hospitality, apt to teach, not given to wine, no strilcer. not greedy of filthy lucre ; but patient! not a brawler, not covetous ; one that ruleth his own house, having his children in subjection with all gravity (for if a man know not how to rule ivll and national an who is acciis- It V • reasonable himself well in A government is in danger of ibroglios. The rights of those h impunity can the destinies of In proof of )ry that record Efnificent Persia, racenic domina- an civilization. " ability to gov- hat the apostle grity upon the e Church, over- er polity. "A he husband of behavior, given given to wine, •e ; but patient, that ruleth his subjection with >t how to rule W &■ ^, .V IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) lyii I m U III 1.6 ■ 2.2 i^ |i° 12.0 Hiotographic Sciences Corporation m*:.. ^ ^. « V ^ ^. R' CIHM/ICMH Microfiche Series. CIHM/ICMH Collection de microfiches. Canadian Institute for Historical IVIicroreproductions / Institut Canadian de microreproductions historiques 5«> «et '"hrist's Gos- pel has a chance at the lives of < :id women. Under that principle, marriage is co neither a sacrifice, but a girding o- the surest strength. ■mm^ &^^M4S^^^^S^' iiiiifiWiii MARRIED PEOPLE. 93 keep me and incil upon the , while he has • of spirit that iful as a moral ility that gets lay — an ability \it has in full lie commissary elf to the work led. )t say, "These ved on, though ugh your book our benevolent or use. Ten ought to warn )le on in dark- y coffee should ent might give elish that your ny comfort." Golden Rule, is 'I '^hrist's Gos- :id women. IS CO neither a iurest strength. The home will stand pure and strong and glori- ■ ous, the very bulwark of the civilization and of godliness. Marriage is usually necessary to roundness and completeness of character. Each life needs ^ another to which it may be joined by an un- breakable bond supplementing its lack by add- ing the quality or grace in which it is deficient. The timid man or woman must be united to the courageous, the brusque to the gentle. Joined, they make a completed life, each doing the bet- ter work for the influence of the other, each working freely to the law of his or her being, each following the will of God and working to his purpose. There may be those to whom it is given to remain single for the sake of special personal responsibility with which marriage c uld but in- terfere seriously, but there can hardly be a more harmful fallacy than that marriage is opposed to holiness, and that they who would be specially devoted to God's work must keep themselves aloof from its entanglements. The Romish Church has committed its religious services to an army of celibates. It, is, consequently a strong political and militant organization, but, in meeting the spiritual needs of its communi- cants, it is ai: utter failure. Better a thousand 15* 94 DIAMOND DUST. times that its host of ghostly old rtiaids and bachelors follow the example of the monk Mar- tin, when he gave the sweet little nun, Katie Von Bora, a legal right to fill with rest and sun- shine the stronghold where he retreated when hard pressed by the outside conflict, teaching thus by example as well as by precept how to do that most godly thing, the* making of a pure, noble home. There are also widowed hearts whose love lies in the dust of the sepulcher, and who ad- just themselves to their loss as one does who has parted with an arm. Possibly marriage bells never chimed for them, but their hearts know the rest that comes only from the joining of two lives that are "meant for each other." Marriage adds to the moral strength, instead of lessening it, but that this may be so neither must claim dictatorship. Each must respect in the other the ultimate supremacy and responsi- bility of the soul's choice. But how seldom do we see wrought out this divine ideal. How wretchedly have sin and selfishness wrenched out of all form and comeli- ness this good intention of the kind God; and what worlds of mischief grow out of the sad mistake! Multitudes are fastened together for conven- 'ilrfinSI'iSii^Si^fi^ wm^ m MARRIED PEOPLE. 95 eld ifiaids and the monk Mar- tie nun, Katie \ rest and sun- etreated when ifltct, teaching (recept how to :ing of a pure, ts whose love and who ad- one does who marriage bells • hearts know joining of two er." ength, instead be so neither ust respect in and responsi- tught out this lave sin and n and comeli- !nd God; and t of the sad !r for conven- ience or pride, by diplomacy or avarice, really living, as blunt old Dr. Clarke has it, in "legal- ized adultery." Many others who seemed at first well mated have grown into such coldness toward each other, we can but conclude they would be glad to be free. We can almost tell the number of their married years by the distance between them— husband and wife. What a disappoint- ment! Instead of the expected paradise, only a desert of indifference! They are obliged to speak across this waste, arranging monetary matters. Now and then they catch a glimps of each other as they kneel side by side in the worship of God. The Lord winds the love of little children around their hearts to draw them together. Their tears mingle beside dying beds. They clasp hands by little graves, where seems to be buried the heart of each. Yet, in spite of all, they drift further and further apart— he mar- ried to his business or his ambition ; she, to her babies, her housekeeping, or society. All those kindly glances, those touches of hand and lip, those gentle, loving attentions that were to have been the dessert of each day's fare, are foigottea or laughed at as school-boy poetry, or, like faded flowers from coffin lids, they are sighed over in secret. The twain grow old and die 9* DIAMOND DUST. Utter strangers to each other's real life, alto- getiier unaware of the strength and happiness they have missed by not living and loving as married people ought to do. But this negative, this starving, is not the worst side of the mischief. The positive danger is far greater. Satan is not slow to bring in a brood of lawless loves to poison and destroy the hungry heart. If the affections of one wander wickedly sometimes the other is to blame. One is careless of the domestic bond because the other is selfish or cold, heartless or hateful. Great harm comes to the children who are born into such families. When the household loves are frost-bitten, lio brown-stone elegance can supply the lack of heart-warmth. From those frigid mausoleums daughters hurry off to find elsewhere what they have missed at home, and sons are easily lured into tlie b)'-ways of Hell I The children of such families not unfrequently grow up in doubt of the possibility of home- happiness, and conclude to repeat their parents' blunder, and settle into domestic mummies their only relief, a costly embalming ! Married people can ill afford to freeze each other and ruin their children by their bickerings. Each icicle that falls between them, like the dragons' teeth sown by Cadmus, will spring up Tilfiiifiii^^^^SSSS'' " real life, alto- and happiness and loving as \g, is not the ositive danger to bring in a id destroy the •f one wander blame. One because the r hateful, dren who are he household e elegance can From those y off to find It home, and vays of Hell I unfrequently ity of home- their parents' mummies — ri » freeze each ir bickerings. ;m, like the ill spring up MARRIED PEOPLE. p» a hateful, malignant spoiler. It is so much easier to indulge a captious, petulant spirit than to hold it in check. People neglect those little foxes, surliness, snappishness, fault-finding, till they have spoiled all the vines. Such parents may help their children to good social position. They may will them a few paltry dollars, but they rob them of what is worth more than millions, the kmdliness, the sweet memories, the culturing In- fluence of true home love. Let us find some of the reasons why so many married people fail of happiness. In the outset we may note a fault ii> the preliminaries. Mar- ried life is held constantly before young people, not in its own plain, beautiful, common sense simplicity, but tricked out with all manner of moonshiny sentimentaKsms. and -nreal fancies The subject of getting married makes the staple of their jests, the main part of their merriment. Their amusements are planned with this thought uppermost. Their confidences are largely made up of the telling of love affairs. Their books outside of the school-room teach little else. What was that your boy hid under his pillow? A iove story. And little need is there of hiding - that sort of literature these days when even Sun- day-school libraries are full of it. What was your daughter crying over ? The tribulations of a pair 7 98 DIAMOND DUST. i;i of unfortunate lovers, the course of \\\\o%fi affaires du caur seemed running at the usual unsmooth rate. Some authors catalogued brilliant have written but little except how people may get married in spite of difficulties and obstacles. Sculpture, painting, poetry, music, all have been pressed into the business of drawing young people toward the Eden of wedded life. By this glamour during a decade of the most susceptible young years, marriage is made to appear the iu plus ultra of existence. For each there is wait- ing somewhere an angel that has chanced to be clothed in human form, and the chief end of life is to find that seraphic being and bring about a right understanding. But when the congratula- tions are over, the cake eaten, the flowers faded, the every-day dress resumed, the newly-joined pair find themselves thrust back suddenly into a sober, matter of fact world where people have to eat and drink, pay rent and doctor's bills. Tlie angel turns out to be a only good-looking young fellow, who will smoke horrid cigars with his feet on the backs of the parlor chairs, and talk slang and pick his teeth at the table ; or a pleasant little woman in a sonnewhat unbecoming morning dress, who has shocking headaches at inoppor- tune times, and who cries to see her mamma when things are not exactly to her mind. "To I f whose affaires isual unsmooth brilliant have eople may get 1 obstacles, nusic, all have drawing young d life. By this lost susceptible ) appear the iie \ there is wait- chanced to be :hief end of life 1 bring about a the congratula- : flowers faded, le newly-joined suddenly into a people have to or's bills. Tlie 1-looking young ars with his feet , and talk slang a pleasant little >ming mornuig hes at inoppor- ee her mamma er mind. "To AtAKRIED PEOPLE. 99 work " is the verb that must be conjugated now in all .ts moods and tenses, though the mistaken pair expected to loiter sunnily through "to en- joy. " If they had been held to better sense they would have found that the two ?re synonyms. The fiction-steeped ambrosia and nectar begin to sour. The cream of life seems to be only bit- ter whey, and there they are, fast for a life-time, their happ.ness wrecked by a cuarming blunder I That conviction, do you see, is as wrong as were their azure and gold expectations. They may swing back to a sensible view of the case though some never do. Young people ought to go through with their courts/lip with their eyes open. The blind Cupid «s a pretty myth for the poets, but not one in whose hands we may risk our happiness for life. When a young man fancies that he is marrying perfection, we can but anticipate for him a disa- greeable awaking. Knowing the tendency of human nature to extremes, we quite expect him to take a tUt in the opposite direction, and un- derrate the lady in the ratio of his present ex- travagance. That is what we always do when disappointed in any friend. We mark him as- much too low as we had him before too high. A little common sense is an immense help in such cases. Let the young man understand that mm I- 100 DIAMOND DUST. his lady-love, though quite as angelic as It is proper for U;? wife to be, is simply human after all, made of about the same material as the mother who bothers him with her advice and wor- ries because he does not heed it, or the sister whom he drives into the pouts now and then with his teasing. The same human stuff, only more thoroughly in his power — more easily hurt. His mother knows that he is growing away from her and presently he will go into a home of his own. His sister comforts herself with the hope that she will have somebody some day to love her boundlessly — some one who will not torment hei so. But this woman knows that there is no proper way out of the reach of his burriness ex- cept to die. Some set out with right notions, but they are quite too prodigal of each other's love and pa- tience. They seem to take it for granted that the supply is exhaustless. To be sure, it took a world of effort to bring the affair to its present delicious state, but, thank Providence, it is hap- pily adjusted at last. After the knot is tied they may b as careless as they choose to be about those little attentions and politenesses of which they were so profuse a few months before. This is a radical mistake. It takes more care to hold than to win a love. If it be worth any thing, I % -%* mgelic as it is Ay human after natcrial as tlie advice and wor- t, or the sister V and then with tuff, only more isily hurt. His away from her me of his own. the hope that ay to love her lot torment hei at there is no is burriness ex- is, but they are s love and pa- »r granted that sure, it took a r to its present ence, it is hap- not is tied they se to be about esses of which J before. This re care to hold >rth any thing, MARRIED PEOPLE. iot and you are certainly not so idiotic as to think it of no moment that the friend nearest you should care for you always tenderly, you ought to plan deliberately to keep alive the sentiment you have been so fortunate as to inspire. The graduate is a failure who stops studying when he takes his diploma. The victorious gen- eral who does not keep connection with his base of supplies will soon find himself in no enviable position. The young Christian who congratulates himself that he has nothing to do but to sing and praise will soon find that he has little left over which to rejoice. Jjo the man who thinks his courtship ends with the bridal "yes," or the woman who backslides into the slipshod and easy-going as soon as her husband is caught, is sure to wreck domestic happiness. Married people must not expect to think ex- actly alike about every thing. Of course, each must be firm in matters of conscience, but in the non-essentials let each defer to the other's preference, as far as possible. There is no use in arguing. Let there be candor and the utmost respect for each other's opinions in the consider- ation of questions about which there is a differ- ence. If an agreement seems impossible, let that controverted point be fenced about— unap- proachable territory— like the Elis of the Greeks. DIAMOND DUST. The one who has most patience and self-control will probably win in the long run. There are those who loved each other gen-' uinely at the outset who have suffered the cares of life to crowd them intc coldness and indiffer- ence. If the eye of such a one rests upon this page, let me whisper that there is hope. It is never too late to mend. Your love may have been cut down by the frost so that it has hardly put forth a leaf lor a dozen years; but the roots are alive, and with care the plant will spring up again. Let there be an explanation, an under- standing, if practicable. Let each decide to be- gin anew to live as people ought, with the help of the good God. It will be no small undertak- ing — much harder than to have kept right from the first. Your habits are against you, and you are less mobile in character, but it can be done, and it will pay. Perhaps the mutual regard has been so long buried, the ground above it tramped so hard by neglect and coldness and little asperities, that its very life i& a matter of doubt. But remem- ber you -are bound together for all time. Not only your own but your children's happiness is at stake. Give the love the benefit of the doubt. Act toward each other as if all were right between you. Keep back every impatient 'WP UST. ence and self-control J run. 'ed each other gen-i i:e suffered the cares oldness and indiffer- one rests upon this there is hope. It is four love may have 30 that it has hardly years; but the roots plant will spring up planation, an under- t each decide to be- )ught, with the help i no small undertak- jave kept right from gainst you, and you but it can be done, rd has been so long it tramped so hard little asperities, that loubt. But remem- ■ for all time. Not ildren's happiness is the benefit of the }ther as if all were >ack every impatient MARRIED PEOPLE. 103 look and word as carefully as if you were trying to secure some great favor of a stranger. Try the effect of the little attentions that drew you together at first — the confidences, the silent de- ferring to each other's taste. Begin anew your courtship. Before marriage you always had for each other a kind look, a smile, a word of wel- come. Try it now. It one comes in whom it is to your interest to please, it does not matter, how tired or worried you are, you can smooth your face and put on a smile. There is no hu- man being whose deportment toward you can affect your life like the demeanor of the one to whom you are bound for weal or woe. Better a thousand times please that one by your kindly courtesy than all the world besides. Let the wife meet her husband at the door with a kiss when he comes home from his day's work. If she goes into his office or store or study, let him treat her with as much politeness as he would use toward a stranger, and not Intimate that she is a great bother, only "around after money." Let each give the other special attention at the table, as though there were none there, not even guests, who are more to be honored. It will not be long till the ice will give way, and the warm tide of early love will be again pulsat- r\ ii. I 104 DIAMOND DUST. ing through hearts that had nearly lost hope. This must be done or the united life that might be a bond of surest strength, will prove to be like the robe steeped in the blood of Nessus — a ceaseless, deadly galling. You were deceived in your choice? The probability is you are far better mated than you think; and if you were free, you would do about the same thing again. At any rate, your one chance is to make the best of the case as it is now. That coldness may be only a crust of reticence over a warm, quick heart. The peevishness may be merely the querulousness of hunger for which no one is so much to blame as yourself. Well for society and the world if the well- meaning, frigid people could be induced to begin anew a cordial treatment of each other, and thus happiness be brought back to many an empty- hearted, lonely home. Married people are altogether too chary of their comtnenlaiion of each other's good acts. They can criticise and censure and wax eloquent over faults, delivering themselves of proverbs, with homilies attached, ad infinitum; but a right good, hearty word of praise— it would choke them, one might think. And an immense, psychological blunder is 'wf arly lost hope. life that might ill prove to be d of Nessus — a ■ choice? The 'fiafed than you you would do any rate, your of the case as e only a crust k heart. The querulousness much to blame •Id if the well- duced to begin other, and thus my an empty- • too chary of r's good acts. I wax eloquent i of proverbs, w; but a right would choke :al blunder is MARRIED PEOPLE. "S that, to be sure. We are oftener helped to hu- mility by honest, straightforward approval of our eflTorts than by scolding and fault-finding. Some who carry the bravest face are at the de- spair point because they amount to so little, staggering under a burden of fancied incompe- tency, needing far more than any one ever dreams a little encouragement. Help them over that hard place, and they will have time and strength to think of being actually humble. Some men are full of praise of their domestic establishments behind the back of their wives — the very ones who need the good word — while, in the presence of the disheartened haustnutters, you could hardly draw a syllable of appreciation from them with forceps. In old times good people used to put on their Sunday cbthes and kid gloves before they dared speak of their . religious experience; and their love for their friends fared but little better. If one spoke of the love of God shed abroad in his heart by Ae Holy Spirit, it was regarded a sure sign that he was a hypocrite. No clearer mark of a reprobate than to believe your sins pardoned, and have a disposition to declare the joyful fact. In those old iron-clad days if a married pair Indulged "before folks" in any sort of manifestations of regard, they were set .down i wfcww i rwi* « !in > M«ia' iw,'^»ra,- ' Hill' f'lcii nil mimiii io6 DIAMOND DUST. at once as people who quarrel when the eye of the dear public is off their behavior. So they trudged on, those old saints, at infinite pains to keep the fire shut in most carefully, while those who were dearer than life were freezing to death at their side. Unfortunately, this frigid mode of life has not all passed away with knee-buckles and ruffled shirts. There are plenty of married people yet who walk icily side by side, till one bends over the other's dying bed. Then, when there is little use, the pent stream bursts forth. The wealth that was intended for all those cold, hun- gry years, is poured forth lavishly, and it is all too late! Let us be wise in time. God never meant this life to be a desert utterly barren of all that is good and beautiful and refreshing and glad. Finally, in this matter, "Whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatso- ever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things." A home where Christ abides is a little rem- nant of Eden. The benediction of God falls ver- tically upon its blessed inmates. It can but be a power in the evangelization of the race, an "T l' l ^il'-fT^ nw i i iwat fi t i w MARRIED PEOPLE. hen the eye of ivior. So they nfinite pains to lly, while those eezing to death >de of life has kles and ruffled ried people yet jne bends over when there is sts forth. The hose cold, hun- y, and it is all d never meant rren of all that ng and glad, atsoever things iionest, whatso- hings are pure, atsoever things •iny virtue, and lese things." is a little retn- f God falls ver- It can but be f the race, an icfy armory where God's soldiers are equipped. Let Christian homes be constructed by that wisdom that is "from above, that is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, and easy to be entreated, full of mercy and good fruits, without parti- ality, and without hypocrisy." Then "the fruit of righteousness" will be "sown in peace for them that make peace," Let the Scriptural law of unselfish lOve and reverence, based as it is upon the inherent dig- nity of humanity, and the golden rule of giving precisely what each would wish to receive from the other — let this divine dictum be observed. Then shall the home be, what God meant in its plan, the center and stronghold of the civili- zation, the very exponent and chief guard of' Christianity. Children born in such gardens of good will escape the spiritual warping and maim- ing that now so often sends them forth into the work of the world hopelessly tyrannical or cring- ing, self confident or discouraged, unable to touch the problems of the future that press alike upon the sympathies and energies of men and women. By the arithmetic of /leaven, while one may chase a thousand, two can put ten thousand jto flight,— the uniting of strength multiplying the efficiency by five. So of a good man and woman joining hands for the long walk through life. Ki 1 08 DIAMOND DUST. each free in Christ's freedom, each iJving by the divine will, and yet the twain un-'ted by the miracle of Him who honored with his presence the wedding in Cana of Galilee, and who must always himself unite the truly married,— the union after this manner can but increase infin- itely the ability for noble work, "Two hea.Is in council; two beside tlie hearth; Two in the tangled hiiKiness of the woild ; Two in the liberal offices of liu ; Two plummets dropped for one to sound the abyss Of science and the secrets of the mind. In the long years liker must they grow, The man be more of woman, she of man. He gain in moral height, nor lose The wrestling thews that throw the world. She, mental breadth, nor fail in chlldward care Till at the last she set herself to him Like perfect music unto noblest words; Then comes the statelier Eden back to man, Then reign the world's great bridals chaste and calm, Then springs the crowning race of human kind." i*< i >ii(ivi iiii>i iii'. a ajnu,a4^ i j,ji. .. | f| ,i, 1 li ifving by the united by the h his presence and who must married, — the increase infin- e hearth; voi Id ; und the abyss d. »w, man. vorld. Iward care to man, liaste and calm, iman kind." J'liilirMliaHiflilli ^aa8it^aaga'^?Siaw^3S:-'-^..:?-,-iJ| igJBfiBJHIMIH SAVING THE LIFE. 109 T^HE Scriptures always sketch from life. A They do not group figures for artistic effect, throwing awkward facts into the back- ground. If their pages had been dictated by human wisdom, the immoralities of the patri- archs, David's sin, Solomon's defection and Pe- ter's lie would have been left out, and so would the disputes of the disciples about which should be the greatest. The Bible, like one who takes an instantane- ous photographic view, brings before us people as they were, and not as they ought to have been. In this naturalness, this humanness, this truthfulness, may be found much of the force of its teachings. The very defects of its characters are helpful, because they are so much like those that cripple us and deprive us of power for good. They are like signals of warning set up in dangerous ways, like light-houses built upon terrible rocks. They cry to us, " Beware, a great soul perished here I no DIAMOND DUST. Stand off, a nation struck that reef and went down !" Probably none of the warnings of Scripture are more needed by many souls than that given in the apostolic quatrel about who should be the greatest. It was certainly a very weak and child- ish affair. A struggle for pre-eminence among the disciples of a Master who was so poor he had not where to lay his head, dependent for his food upon the charity of those who risked all in h.3 service, and obliged to work a miracle to get money to pay his taxes. It was most inoppor- tune. The gloom of Gethsemane and Calvary had begun to settle upon his soul. He was in the first act of the awful redemptive tragedy. It was unutterably discouraging. He was lifting to his hps the cup of doom prepared by sin for every human soul. He was about to taste death for every man. The life he was to purchase could come only by the casting out of the old, selfish nature. Yet those whor.i he had been teaching for three years, and who had been per- mitted to enter with him the very inner sanctu- ary of the divine presence, wer6 giving way be- fore the very first onslaught of thfe enemy, to that pride and selfishness that he was sacrificing his life to eradicate. Foolish and inopportune and discouraging as '^lUwMilMiimii' I II. B«>*MA«*EiR««HaK9ett; 1 reef and went igs of Scripture than that given » should be the weak and chiid- minence among ivas so poor he ipendent for his lo risked all in I miracle to get most inoppor- le and Calvary il. He was in i^e tragedy. It e was lifting to red by sin for t to taste death s to purchase Jut of the old, he had been had been per- y inner sanctu- jiving way be- thfe enemy, to was sacrificing liscouraging as SAVING THE LIFE. was that miserable dispute, it was no worse than what the M make liis mas- e liberator must IS import of hu- among the op« jf their wrongs, intrinsic human sraelites, Moses Egyptian prince •oud throne of the wealth of immsmxammms^eiak achievement in lifting up the enslaved greater riches than the treasures of Egypt, with its affluent old civilization. It took forty silent, meditative years alone with Jehovah in Midian for him to learn that lesson. At last he promulgated his code, giving the wisest adjustment of the rela- tions of men to men possible for many centuries. He epitomized common law, which, after the lapse of nearly four thousand years, wraps the civilized world in the mantle of its guardianship. And what a grand saving of the life was his! To be able to lay a network of obliga- tion upon all the races that recognize the in- spired supremacy of conscience — giving to untold millions the happiness of a safe, protected life. What an expansion and intensifying of one's own vitality I What if he did wrap himself in a coarse Arab mantle and lie down to die upon Nebo, crownless, scepterless, throneless, with no shelter but the open sky, a houseless wanderer? For what better tent could we a.sk in which such a grand being should breathe out his life, than the star-gemmed heavens, with the sun In his strength and the moon in her brightness to guard his burial place — angels about him, and Jehovah to minister the last mortal rites? Aristotle was another of the glorious self- givers. It was his work to cany the world from CM ii6 DIAMOND DUST. ^M, 'ii I'll, ! (If !» .Ill the iKazen into the silver age. Under his power, brawn yielded to brain. Muscle had been king and thought its slave.. He reversed the order^ and made the animal serve the intellectual. He taught the subjugation of the passions by the reason, and for twenty centuries his dictum has been obeyed in all the lands conquered by his genius. He died in the outer, that he might save the true, strong, inner life. Of the Macedonian no- bility, the tutor of Alexander the Great, endowed by his "royal pupil with millions of money, cov- ered with courtly honors, yet he held steady to the work in hand. No bribes could buy him; no flatteries seduce hirn; no successes :nflate him; no glories swerve him from his course. When the tide turned, and the people for whose emancipation he had given his best years rejected his counsel and cast out his name as evil, he stood unmoved like a rock among the breakers, choosing rather to suffer affliction than to aban- don the principles of right after which he had groped in his heathen twilight. He died an exile, yet the mighty reform he wrought in the domain of intellect has made reasoning reliable, and all emancipation possible. The Greeks who lived and taught before Aris- totle's day had a supreme ^contempt for huhian- >mmttmmmmmmmms» '■****''^***'*****j«'jaBte»iw» DUST. ige. Under his power, Muscle had been king le reversed the order^ J the intellectual. He r the passions by the iituries his dictum has nds conquered by his hat he might save the >f the Macedonian no- ler the Great, endowed lillions of money, cov- yet he held steady to ribes could buy him; no successes hiflate liim from his course. I the people for whose his best years rejected his name as evil, he I among the breakers, iffliction than to aban- t after which he had vilight. He died an ■m he wrought in the ide reasoning reliable, ble. nd taught before Aris- ^contempt for huhian> SAVING THE LIFE. 117 mmtitmmm My, seeing in it only the development of fine animal life, and regarding it of value only so far as it was physically faultless. Aristotle put his shoulder under the burden of the world's wrong judgment and consequent oppressions, and through all the long centuries the animal has never regained the ascendency. He died to all that was preferred by the people around him, yet he will live forever in the gratitude of the thoughtful. Mohammed, also, gained all by losing all. He found the people groaning, almost uncon- sciously, under the beastly burdens laid upon them by their many gods. He tried to teach them a pure, monotheistic worship. They called him an impostor, and drove him from his native city. He persevered against all obstacles, till they came at last to believe that they had found in him their long- looked -for deliverer. Then came his coronation-day; and for four centuries the scholarship of the world was found among his followers. His life was a forfeit to his pur- pose to establish monotheism. He sacrificed to that work ease, pleasure, all earthly good. Only thus could he succeed. William, Prince of Orange, enjoyed his broad estates and elegant life, probably, with a nebulous notion of human equality floating ii8 DIAMOND DUST. ?!!'■' through his brain. In the midst of luxury, how could he know the hard life of the poor? In high favor with royalty, how could he under? stand the grinding taxation necessary to support regal pomp and glory? God meant him to be the champion of civil and religious liberty, and it took hard discipline to arouse him fully to the need of the hour. The Romish Church stole his son, and that awakened him to a sense of its tyrannies. The Duke of Alva, with his dragonnades, trying to establish the Inquisition in Holland, made per- sonal liberty a myth. When the silent states- man began actively to remonstrate, his estates were wrested from him; and then, with an empty purse, insufficient service, indifferent cloth- ing, no place of safety, a price on his head, the proud Prince of Orange began to know the meaning of poverty. Then he became truly the friend of the poor. When the great, hungry need of the op- pressed people laid its hand upon his shoulder, he was young, rich, courted, full of the proudest, highest life. It led him, step by step, down the winding stair to its den of want. He became ^one with the common people. He gave all for their emancipation. When, under the assassin's steel, he was dying for their liberties, his last ■MMMsi <* SAVING THE LIFE, 119 t of luxury, how f the poor? In could he under- issary to support leant him to be ious liberty, and him fully to the is son, and that tyrannies. The nades, trying to land, made per- :he silent states- :rate, his estates then, with an indifferent cloth- on his head, the n to know the >ecame truly the eed of the op- }n his shoulder, of the proudest, ^ step, down the it. He became He gave all for er the assassin's iberties, his last words attested the completeness of his identity with the cause of the poor, "O my God, have mercy upon my poor people!" A wail went to heaven from every home in Holland. He who had lost his life for the sake of a noble cause had gained the first place on his country's roll of honor and in the regard of all good men and true. A man in our own country and time lived and died like William the Silent, losing his life for the oppressed, and saving it to the best and most enduring immortality. He gave liberty to as many millions as did the Prince of Orange, and humbled as proud an oligarchy. Lincoln came from among the "poor white trash" of the South, yet as princely a soul was housed in his rough physique as lived in the bosom of the man of elegant culture and noble blood. One has said of him, "His large palm never slipped from the poor man's hand. A child of the people, he was as accessible in the White House as he had been in the cabin. The griefs of the poor African were as sacred to him as were the claims pf the opulent white man." Measuring all by their humanity, he found them essentially equal. Seeing in God the Father of all, he saw in every man a brother. In the senatorial contest between Lincoln I90 DIAMOND DUST. and Douglas the latter was victorious. Lincoln said: "His life is all success, mine all failure. I would give every thing for his opportunity of working for the uplifting of the oppressed." After the hard discipline of the years, his hour came. He was found equal to the complete self- glvi ig tliat marked him the Christly man of the ages, and in the achievement he gave all, hold- ing s! eady to his purpose even when his friends turnefi from him in distrust. At last he gave his life for the cause he served. He was like the century plant that we saw a few years ago. After seventy patient years it burst into glorious bloom, and then it died. After the supreme act of his life Lincoln went to God, and the mourning throughout all lands where liberty was loved was as if one were dead in every household. Said a Russian lady upon the shore of the Black Sea to a tourist, "So you are from America — Lincoln's land. When word came that they had killed liim, I could do noth- ing for hours but walk the floor and say, 'Lin- coln is dead! Lincoln is dead!' " The Great Commoner, he interpreted to the people their own sense of dignity. Though he lost his life, he saved it by the suffrage of uni- versal thoughtful humanity. The life of Jesus the Christ was the most mmm SAVING THE LIFE. lai torious. Lincoln ine all failure. I ; opportunity of the oppressed." ! years, his hour he complete self- ristly man of the e gave all, hold- when his friends t last he gave his it that we saw a patient years it ;n it died. After •In went to God, all lands where e were dead in n lady upon the St, ' ' So you are When word could do noth- and say, 'Lin- :erpreted to the y. Though he suffrage of uni- r was the most t^^^S^'wer. It is the cistence. Most r tnan surrender Is have preferred^ ig seems so de- Mon to a human ven to God the low that for the It He will prob- most dislike, and : we prefer, upon the play- d that is forever holds to study is always ready away from his ng us to com- robably have to lation. If one is specially fond of public work he may be ordered to the rear, that in the retire- ment of private life his piety may be deepened, and his reflective faculties duly developed ; while another who has thought and studied a great deal, shrinking always from public notice, may be sent to the front that he may be obliged to have new courage and daring, and because others need the result of his accumulated thought. When called upon to place ourselves in God's hand we may have a premonition of this disci- pline that will make us draw back from the pain. When the mother of James and John asked that her sons might sit, one on the right and the other on the left hand of the Master in his kingdom, he asked if they were able to drink of the cup that he was to drink of, and to be .baptized with the baptism that he was baptized with. They an- swered "We are able." Probably they under- stood better the terms of promotion in the king- dom of the Redeemer, when the headsman's sword gleamed above the head of one, and the other was hunted from city to city by his perse- cuting kinsmen. It may be helpful for us to glance at some of the specific points that come under this generic principle of self-surrender. Our wish to acquire property must be given to God. This is one of 114 DIAMOND DUST. the first impulses shown by a little child. He pulls every thing toward himself,and cries if what he has seized is taken out of his hand. He must have every thing W\t catches his attention and pleases his fancy, whether it be his fatlier's watch or the moon. ' Nothing pleases the boy better than to have something for his very own, "to keep forever and ever." When he gets older he sets himself to get the best of every thing. He may divide with the less fortunate, but it is because the name and sense of being generous may furnish more pleas- ure than the use of the trifle he gives — acquir- ing another gain, a finer and greater one. After passing his thirtieth mile-stone he cares less for that pleasure and more for substantial acquisitions. So he begins to store away the dollars or their equivalent. He must have a place and stock of his own. With most people of forty, fifty, and sixty, the determination to get property becomes the dominant purpose. They may flatter themselves that they do not love money, yet they hardly dare deny that they do care immensely for the consideration and the attention that the world gives those only who are accounted rich. It seems a fine thing to have elegant madames trail their • little child. He ,and cries if what hand. He must lis attention and lis father's watch ter than to have to keep forever imself to get the divide with the : the name and fiish more pleas- e gives — acquir- ater one. e-stone he cares for substantial store away the e must have a ifty, and sixty, ty becomes the itter themselves et they hardly nensely for the : the world gives h. It seems a mes trail their SAVING^THE LIFE. "5 costly silks in at one's door, while a coachman in livery drives the superb carriage up and down the street in front of the house, and to hear the rustle in an audience when one enters a church, or hall, and the sweet sibilants, "our first citi- zens," "our best families.' Who would not en- joy the thousand and one obsequious attentions that are paid to the wealthy ? Who would not shun the neglect, and coldness, and contempt with which the poor are usually treated. "The rich have many friends, but the poor is hated even of his own neighbor." How often we hear the expression, "poor, but worthy," as if the terms were usually antithetic, and so must be separated by a disjunctive— the case named being an exception to the rule. That shows the general drift of the current of opinion, and few of us are of better mind, even though we be followers of the crucified Nazarene. The spirit of the world is wrong in this esti- mate of people, and God means to set it right. If he gets us in hand he will spare no pains to correct our false notions. He will make us un- derstand human equality. He will give us to see that a few thousands of money, more or less, make no sort of difference .with one's intrinsic worth, and in order to that it may be necessary to give us a view from the lower side of the scale ii'miiiiii'iMi ia6 DIAMOND DVST. of his Standard of values. Some one lias said, "God shows how little he think? of wealth by the class of people to whom he permits its pos- session." His nobility, they of whom the world was not worthy, "were stoned, were sawn asun- der, were tempted, were slain with the sword; they wandered about in sheepskins, and goat- skins, being destitute, afflicted, tormented." The twelve, to whom the highest possible honor was promised, were driven from place to place with cruel mockings and scourgings, and all but one sealed their testimony with their blood. Paul the noblest of them all, a prince of the realm, was familiar with hunger, and nakedness, and perils. He suffered the loss of all things for the excellency of the knowledge ol Christ. While he sat in the dark at Damascus he was shown how great things he must suffer for the sake of the Gospel. And the Spirit showed him that every-where bonds and imprisonments awaited his coming. When we surrender to God this natural desire for the pleasant things of this life we are not at all sure but he may lead us to an apprehension of his estimate of human circumstances by some such processes. If one is permitted to keep his property after accepting the divine will in the matter, he holds wmsmm^m:mt!imiii&^ t ne one lias said, ik? of wealth by ; permits its pos- whom the world were sawn asun- ivith the sword ;^ skins, and goat- tormented." highest possible n from place to scourgings, and lony with their , a prince of the and nakedness, of all things for :dge ol Christ, amascus he was st suffer for the ; Spirit showed ! imprisonments e surrender to pleasant things lire but he may his estimate of ich processes. is property after natter, he holds SAVING THE LIFE. 127 it no longer as his own, but always subject to tlie order of God. His sense of ownership is changed to a simple stewardship; so that, though he may not have to deed it away to a Church or charity, it is as certainly given up as if it had passed out of his hands. All this implies an immense overturn of natural tendencies, and the uprooting of habits that are the growth of years. No wonder it is called a crucifixion, and that it seems like an actual losing of the life. Closely allied to our desire for property is our wish to be well spoken 0/— highly esteemed. This also must be surrendered. And in it, as in the other points of character that have been shaped by general opinion, we may expect dis- cipline. They said of our Master, "He hath a devil;" and he says to us, "The disciple is not above his Lord." It is no easy matter to consent to be led di* rectly against the opinions of those to whose judgment we have been accustomed to defen In that experience we begin to know something of the weight of the "cross of our Lord Jesus Christ by whom the world is crucified unto us and we unto the world." The crucifixion of self-surrender would not be so hard if we could suffer one great pang, and have done with it; or if, in the submission, we DIAMOND DUST. might SO lose our free agency as to be perfectly safe from ever drawing back unto perdition ; or, if we could look our last upon the temptations of the world, and shut ourselves up in some sweet, quiet cloister, where there would be only prayers and meditations and holy offices. But it is the plan of God that \ye shall present our bodies a living sacrifice, and any drawing back will abate correspondingly our union with God, and our deadncss to the world. And just here we note one of the paradoxes of the Gospel. We are never so fully and com- pletely alive as when we are dead. We have never so fully the symmetry of character, the strength, the enjoyment, the assurance of living by the law of our being, the certainty of suc- cess, as when we have surrendered all to the Master. When we are dead, and our life is hid with Christ in God, we are most keenly alive to every worthy interest, we have the most glorious full- ness of existence. And what is tlu life that we save by the losing? It is primarily the spiritual life, and it de- pends upon union with God. The original life of the soul was forfeited by sin. Grace finds us dead in trespasses and sins, and renews in us the life of God. We live this life more or less T. as to be perfectly nto perdition; or, ^ the temptations lives lip in some re would be only xoly offices. But shall present our ny drawing back union with God, of the paradoxes 5o fully and corn- dead. We have of character, the surance of living certainty of suc- dered all to the r life is hid with ily alive to every ost glorious fuU- r'^' by the losing? life, and it de- The original life Grace finds us id renews in us ife more or less SAVMG rilE LIFE. lap ^ilsUWj^^i^r^,- , ,=^^;^ affluently in proportion to our submission to the divine will, and our trust in the atonement. When, in the maturity of our Christian knowl- edge, we accept the will of Christ in all things, he will lead us not only to completed spiritual life; he will also give us the best physical and mental culture possible. He will give us to understand that when our bodies belong to him, wc must take care of them for him, and see that they subserve to their utmost the uses of the mind and spirit. We must give them good food, not to pamper false appetites, but to keep them in repair. They must have enough sleep, and only as much work as they can endure with safety. Well- meaning people have sometimes cheated God out of years of service by squandering their strength in overwork, or by crowdin themselves through the drudgery of digesting the villain- ous compounds known as good fare, or by some other dissipation. When we comprehend tha our bodies are the temples of the Holy Ghost we will keep them clean as well as' strong. We will not drink nor chew nor smoke poisons that not only hurt us, but make us offensive to others. And it is doubted whether we will cut holes in our noses and cars for the hanging on of Iff ill ■m 130 DIAMOND DUST. pieces of metal as the custom is in heathen countries. We will stop our fretting when we come to know that the investment and use of our powers depend, not upon our puny wisdom, but upon unmistaking, divine judgment. We will cast our care on Him who careth for us: and with the care all taken off of the weak nerves, a little physical strength can be made to go a great way. When our mental powers are taken completely out of the service of self and devoted simply and only to that of our Heavenly Father, we will comprehend not merely our privilege, but our duty to bring them to the greatest strength. Satan crowds thoughtful people to study, that through their intellectual attainments they may gain money, refinement, luxuries, reputation, and friends. After grace has conquered their ambition, and they care no more for the pride of life, he holds them back by reminding them how much good has been done by people of low mental attainment. He would have them believe that it is better to give one's self wholly to devotion. If God does not want consecrated thought to be developed .in strength, why has he given us mental acumen above the simplest uses? Certainly the very best of every thing belongs ■■■ -^ ; Sg'*>S^4i ^■'•^^'i^^^^i?J^?h and poke and paddle in 't (As children play at fashioning dirt pies) And call their fancies by the name of facts, Assuming difference, lordship, privilege, When all's plain dirt — they come back to it at last; The first grave-digger proves it with a spade And pats all even.'* It is a nice thing to weigh one's own capa- bilities and adjust one's claim to respect. Some people are in a perpetual "claim quarrel" with society. Their demands are never met; and they are forever in a grumble — disappointed, un- depreciated. Of necessity such fail to be court- eous. They must first be reconciled to those m^M wim iwmmk 140 DIAMOND DUST. lil about them who, as they say, have a pique at them, and then they can treat others with due civility. Others undervalue themselves, though they differ widely from each other in their manner of showing their self-depreciation. They may blunder along through the propri^ies, violating each principle, because they so constantly dis- trust their own judgment, fear to take their proper place, underrate their own dignity. In a perpetual purpose to get to the foot of the class, where, they seem to think, they are pre- destined to stand, they incommode the whole line, jostling a dozen othew out of place. They make distressing efforts to be agreeable, but their shortcomings so confuse them that they are in a ceaseless flutter of apology. They never make up their minds to do a thing the best they can, and let that suffice— simply and plainly, if !5imple and plain has been their culture. One who has sufficient insight to look down through outer glosses to the intrinsic worth, is never at a loss about his deportment. If he is taken into a circle to whose formula of etiquette he is a stranger he does not worry every body with his apologetic nervousness. He is simply and quietly himself. He does not compare his appearance with that of those about him, be- f have a pique at others with due 59, though they in their manner on. They may riq^ies, violating constantly dis- • to take their n dignity. In a he foot of the c, they are pre- lode the whole >f place. They agreeable, but m that they are r. They never ig the best they and plainly, if ultnre. t to look down rinsic worth, is ment. If he is jlas of etiquette riy every body He is simply >t compare his ibout him, be- COUHTEOUSNESS. 141 cause he understands that the difference between social castes is very slight, at most. He sees that all are poor, weak humans together, each acting his role in the drama of probation, under his lidless eye whose judgment alone is final, and who notes, not the folds of the drapery, nor the pose of the head, but the thought, the spirit, the inner life. He knows that humanity is too great to be cramped down to the petty outside measurements that prevail among weak-headed snobs. •' I* tlteie for lioneit poverty 't'lint liaiigR hit heml, and n' ilmt ? Tlie coward »l«ve, — we pass him by, We dnre be poor, for a' titti I For a* that, and a that. Our toils obscure, and a' that ; The rank is but the guinea's stamp j The man '• the gowd for a* that. What tho' on hamely fare we dine, Wear hodden-grey, and a' that, Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine, A man 's a man for a' that. For a' that, and a* that, Their tinsel show, and a' that; , The honest man, t!io' e'er sae poor, Is king o' men, for a' that. A prince can make a belted knight, A marquis, duke, and a' that ; But an honest man 's aboon his might, Guid faith he mauna fa' that 1 For a' that, and a' that. Their dignities and a' that, I4« DIAMOND DUST. The pilh o' leiise, niiil pride o' worth Are higher rniik* than a' thnl. Then let ui prny that unine it may, Ai come it will, fur a' thnl, \ That «enM and worth o'er a' the earth * May bear the gree, niul a' thai. For a' that, and a' that, It '■ coming yet, for a' that, That man to man the wide world o'er Khali brother be, for a' that." Cailyle's description of Burns' s visit to Edtih burgh iliusUates the genuine humility and manli- ness of the man who believed in the essential worth of manhood. "This month he is a ruined peasant, his wages seven pounds a year, and these gone from him ; next month he is in the blaze of rank and beauty, handing jeweled du(:hesses down to din- ner, the cynosure of all eyes ! We admire much the way in which Burns met all this. Tranquil, unastonished, not abashed, not inflated ; neither awkwardness nor aflectation, he feels that fu there is the man Robert Burns ; that ' the rank is but the guinea's stamp, that the celebrity is but the candle light which will show what man, not in the least make him a better or other man I Alas, it may readily, unless he look to it, make him a worse man, a wretched, inflated wind-bag, inflated till he burst and become a dead lion. " COU'^'^USNESS. »43 o' worth tt. It may, ' the earth mt. vorld o'er ns's -visit to Edith imility and manli- I in the essential ined peasant, his 1 these gone from blaze of rank and >ses down to din- We admire much 1 this. Tranquil, inflated ; neither feels that he there ' the rank is but lebrity is but the vhat man, not in ther man I Alas, o it, make him a wind-bag, inflated lion." Why should vvi jf* ^nd cringe before those who may iiavc had bettor food and clothing, higher-priced teachers, and more leisure than we ? By God's standard our fare and our rai- ment, our lessons and wisdom may be by far the costliest and the best. The world's methods of measurement are all wrong. Let us learn to live by God's rule. There have been various christenings of that lack of independence that makes plain people ill at ease in the presence of those who seem to b'' of more consequence. It is tenderly ycleped timidity, or bashfulness — ntauvaise honte in hon- est French. However it may be disguised, it is execrable, and betrays a weak character. The man who takes on the crawling order of conduct, not quite sure in certain society that he has a right to be in the world at all, is certainly deficient in self- respect. He is a coward, and that means that he would be a tyrant if he happened to get an up- ward tilt. Coward and tyrant are interchangea- ble terms, because both are based upon a wrong notion of the worth that inheres in a Christ-re- deemed being, whether 1 e be wrapped in calico or satin, in coarse muscle or fine, in abrupt man- ners or delicate address. I know a man who sidles in and out of •a DIAMOND DUST. room to take iip the less space, like Dickens's Mr. Chillip, He sits down in the most out of the way corner, tucks his feet under his chair, folds up his little frame like a pocket-lantern, and slips in his uncertain sentences with a wheedling sim- per, as though it was the height of superlative goodness that permits him to open his unworthy I«ps. It is impossible to draw from him a straight- fprward opinion even upon no more complicated a question than the state of the weather. He means to be truthful, but let one ask him, if it isn't raining; " Why— yes-he guesses-to be sure— you know— well, it must be— it is," though a blink of sunshine through a bljnd that very minute contradicts his wriggling answer. A dozen others who are not one whit more sure of themselves, don a brazen mask, a'nd try to brace up by putting on independent airs. They are 'ike the silly people who starve them- selves In t. -ir thread-bare attempts at "keeping up appearan »s." They bluster, and stamp, and talk loud, and ;talk through the room, lords of the manor surely! What do they care for rules ? Eti- quette, indeed! Superior to all such twaddle! After all their bravado they are not much unlike the scared little man who smirks in your face so provokinjiy. I know another, of humble parentage and D DVST. space, like Dickens's Mr. in the most out of the it under his chair, folds pocket-lantern, and slips s with a wheedling sim- le height of superlative n to open his unworthy raw from him a straight- >n no more complicated : of the weather. He t let one ask him, if It I'es — he guesses — to be must be— it is," though ugh a bljnd that very iggling answer, ire not one whit more I brazen mask, a"nd try on independent airs. :ople who starve them- attempts at "keeping )luster, and stamp, and li the room, lords of the ley care for rules ? Eti- to all such twaddle! ;y are not much unlike smirks in your face so lumble parentage and COURTEOUSNESS. ,45 narrow culture, a "working man." and withal a gentlemen. He is at home in any society be- cause he is not ashamed to be his plain, excel- lent .self, faultlessly polite, because dignifiedly self-forgetting and kind. He is no doubt inno- cently Ignorant of some of the flourishes that pass for politeness with shoddy gentility, yet there is not a requirement of genuine courtesy that he does not understand intuitively, through his com- mon sense, his self respect, and his wish to make others happy. Politeness is only a pleasant name for justice and one can but be just if he has ample Christian charity. No one with the tender love of tlie Re- deemer pulsating through his soul can be other- wise than kindly just. This genuine courtesy is beautifully amplified in the thirteenth chapter of First Corinthians. The love that beareth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things, does not flame up at every slight. It remembers that when one seems care- less and negligent of the attentions that he ought to bestow, it is not impossible that a secret agony IS gnawing his heart like the vulture at Prome- theus's liver. It does not shy those who seem distant and indifferent. It gives them the ben- efit of the doubt, and determines, at all events to keep its own temper generous and genial.' 10 S»*«iJMi«'4K*teKK*fesfe ■ -SMSiM^iim- ' '.m#%^B-s»mi!iimi'ii«Ximsi^i&xmim-v 146 DIAMOND DUST. Ten to one its aflability will win its way into the confidence and warmth of the most hopeless and unpromising reticence. Even churlishness will have to give way before its quiet radiance. Courtesy belongs to civilizaiion. Among sav- ages its demands are met, in the main, if each lets his neighbor's scalp alone, and keeps his tomahawk out of the other's brain. As the so- cial network grows complicated and interlaced, courtesy must keep pace with the need of inter- course, making it agreeable. It is of practic^il use in every-day life. Like the oil that lubricites the machinery, or the rubber pad upon the axle, it eases the jolts of the rough, hard-going cir- cumstances that are posting us through the world. Courtesy is like the spring check upon a brake, causing the train to stop by littles and not with a jerk tliat would send the passengers flying out of the windows or up through the roof. With due attention to the suaviter in modo one can use the fortiter in re with safety. It is the iron hand in the velvet glove that grasps firmly and with- out harm to the subject. At best this is an put-of-joint world. All are burdened and weary. Courtesy iightetis the loads and medicines the weariness. It is like fresh flowers, cooling drinks, and soft music in a An its way into the most hopeless and 1 churlishness will Liiet radiance. tion. Among sav- the main, if each ne, and keeps his brain. As the so- ted and interlaced, the need of inter- It is of practiciil e oil that lubricates pad upon the axle, jh, hard-going cir- l us through the :heck upon a brake, ittles and not with ssengers flying out [h the roof. With n modo one can use It is the iron hand js firmly and with- ►f-joint world. All 'curtesy lightens the iriness. It is like and soft music in a COURTEOUSNESS. j^y" Sick-room. Though it may not have healing power in itself, it soothes the worn nerves, and prepares the way for more potent, remedial agents. Much of our suffering is unreal. We are like children who shiver in tlic dark for fear of In- dians that are beyond the Mississippi. We con- jure up wraiths of possible trouble and have the gloom about us all a-mutter with dread may- happens. A nervous man's note is protested a dozen times in his imagination when it is once really in danger. A fidg-ij ^ro.nan's child falls into the nver twenty time- ; er fancy, and she suf- fers all the agony , ing him drown, except ' the certainty, while the little fellow is having a merry time at making mud pies on the bank. We suffer as certainly and sometimes as keenly from these unreal sorrows as if thfy were actual; and we need kindly patience and /brbearance to stim- ulate and strengthen the mind to more healthful action. It is enough to drive one insane to be treated with abruptness and severity by some wise, coolheaded superior who sees the fallacy of the foreboding and is out of patience because jve are so foolish. When great griefs and bereavements come upon us and we stagger and grope through the ba'vJiiaiiiiriiTTiaiwiiiwwmiwi^^^ 148 DIAMOND DUST. { * loneliness of the empty rooms, the " small, sweet courtesies " make us forget for the moment " The ailence 'gainst which we dare not cry, That aches around us like a strong disease and new." We owe all people courteousness, be they black or white, base-born or high-bred, possible or real disciples of our Lord. The flower lifting its bright face by the way- side owes me as much of beauty and fragrance as the Good Father has given me an order for, and the bird owes me a daily installment of heart- helping song. I owe every man, woman, and child with whom I have contact a word, a look, or a thought of kh-where else is the onsiderateness, so worry of life, we by our armor; so words and coarse, like sand in the No wonder they :ross words where mpathy and care, cquaintances with oward their near- incivilities tJiey ', when free from if indulged else- ;ndship they have d. lemy to a tree as )ractice; and yet even in civilized to yourself with CO UR TEO USNESS. »5« promises of lifelong love and cherishing, and then vent upon the luckless head your superflu- ous cruelty. By and by you will he unable to do your outside work, and you v ler e rest and tenderness that are found nowhere ^ side heaven, except in a good home. Then the love that should have helped you bear the weariness and infirmities of age is scarred and withered and dead. No upbraidings, it is what it is on account of your own roughness and unkindness. Some treat their children almost brutally, be- cause the poor, helpless things are in their power. They forget that the harsh, cutting, bitter words that they throw around so reck- lessly, day by day, will be paid back, by and by, with compound interest. When one is old and crippled and broken, his children may do pre- cisely as he did when he had the vigor, and they the helplessness. They will be respectful enough before folks, too proud to be caught using rude- ness toward the decrepit old father; but when they are alone with him, if they have a touch of indigestion, or a business bother, then see how the hard, hateful words rattle abotit his helpless head. Does he recognize his own severe sayings of long years before? Whatso- ever a man soweth, that shall he also reap. Some parents love their children violently. MWMWWIBKWWIIillltliWW »Sa DIAMO.WD DUST. They will do any tlung for them but restrain their own savage instincts; and so, unwittingly, they develop in them a harshness and hateful- ness that will plant with thorns the path toward the sunset. Children have rights that parents are bound to respect. They are as certainly entitled to courtesy and kindness as are parents. The in- justices practiced upon them will be repaid by them when they come to power. Who doe.s not love to recall the pretty Quaker home in "Uncle Tom's Cabin," with the gentle mother directing the merry, young people with her kind, "Hadn't thee better do so and so ?" Where in this wide world is courtesy so beautiful or so useful as in the household? Sometimes brothers and sisters are more ashamed of a caress than of a cross word. If they were caught hurling at each other a biting criticism, they would not be half as much em- barrassed as they would over a kind com- mendation. I was taking vocal music lessons once with a young lady of her brother. They were pleasant young people, and they thought enough of each other, yet I noticed that he used little incivili- ties toward her that would have finished my lessons at once if he had ventured to address ■-***&■, ■■■IIH them but restrain id so, unwittingly, hness and hateful- IS the path toward parents are bound 'tainly entitled to parents. The in- will be repaid by er. recall the pretty m's Cabin," with the merry, young I't thee better do s world is courtesy the household? sisters are more a cross word. If ich other a biting lialf as much em- ^er a kind com- issons once with a 'hey were pleasant lit enough of each ised little incivili- have finished my ntured to address COURTEOUSXESS, me in the same manner. I said to him one day, after one of his usual sharp cuts at her dullness, "You don't like your sister as well as you do me?" He stared a moment. "Of course I do. I think enough of her. Why?" "Oh, noth- ing, only you never scold me when I make a blunder. You smooth it over very nicely; but if Lizzie sings wrong, you say so sharply, ' Now, what did you sing that way for? I Ve told you better than that more than a dozen times.' '* Many a girl whose brothers would do aiy thing and every thing for her happiness except treat her with the civility they are ready to use toward every other young lady, is driven into an unfortunate marriage hoping to find that respect and attention that we all prize so highly in the home. And ten chances to one she fails in her mat- rimonial venture. Tlieie are men who visit every little dotnestic mishap and delinquency, the loss of a button, a rip in a f iove, an accident to the morning paper, with an avalanche of sharp words as bitter and biting as a j^arch hail-storm. Some put more gentleness into the voice when they address any living being whom it is to their interest to please, than they use in speaking to the wife of a dozen years. When the back of the dear public is turned they do not hesitate to »S4 DiAMOND DUST, practice toward her a thousand little abruptnesses, any one of which, before marriage, would have made a decided change in their relations. Not every woman is so fortunate as the Scotch lassie who, standing before the minister with her laddie, declined to promise obeHience. After two or three unsuccessful attempts to ad- just the matter satisfactorily, the clergyman hes- itated. "Ne'er mind," said Sandy; "I maun see to the ' obey ' if there be strength i' this guid right arm." " Sae that 's to be the tune," quoth the bonny lass; " weel, then, guid day," and she left him to seek a spouse that he could gov- ern with less trouble. Many a man who would scorn to lay the weight of a finger upon his wife in temper, shows upon small occasions of annoyance a petulance that hurts worse than a blow. Many a woman who is ready to sacrifice to the utmost for her husband's comfort, denies him the kindness of address and manner that she recognizes it her duty to bestow upon all besides. Only at home, where courteousness is most needed, can it be properly learned. Let boys as well as girls be taught genuine politeness. There is nv* reason why "that boy" should be per- mitted to be a boor, while all pains are taken to make his sister a lady. If she needs gentle- J^ ttle abruptnesses, iage, would have relations. i fortunate as the fore the minister omise obeHience. 1 attempts to ad- e clergyman hes- andy; "I maun ongth i' this guid the tune," quoth guid day," and lat he could gov- scorn to lay the in temper, shows mce a petulance Many a woman ! utmost for her the kindness of ecognizes it her ousness is most id. Let boys as oliteness. There should be per- pains are taken le needs gentle- CO Uti TEO USNESS. 15S ness and iclf-control for the work of life, so does he. The day is passing by when men are to be as coarse and rough as savages with a little awk- ward polish for court occasions, while women must be always obsequious and amiable. In the better time there will be no abatement of the oest ideal of womanly self-sacrifice and meekness, and yet the r$U of angelhood will not be monopolized by her ; it will be understood that it is also good for men to "be courteous," and to "be kind one to another, tender-hearted, forgiving one another, even as God for Christ's sake hath for- given" them; "With all lowliness and meek- ness, with long suffering, forbearing one another in love." Courtesy must be taught like music, begin- ning as early as possible. If you begin to teach your daughter music when she is nearly grown it will take a deal of practice to make her even a passable player. But let her tiptoe up to the piano and strike the keys as soon as she cai\, .^nd alone, and she will grow up, other things being equal, its mistress. If we would have our children courteous, we must begin with them early, and teach them by exaniple as well as by dictation. Gentle manners are beautiful, and there is always power in beauty. The touch of the sun- rftfJliilfjJUWrigiwfgtfiiriffii tl KMMMa 156 DIAMOND DVSr. beam moves the granite column far more surely than does the wrench of the tornado. Harmo- nies of color, rliytlim of movement, and melody of voice sway the .soul with surer strength than can the force of reason or the grip cf law. Let us be no longer afraid of what is beautiful be- cause the children of this world, always wiser than the children of light, have prostituted it to base purposes. Let us conscript all beauty and elegance, and give it Christian baptism, and set it at work to help on the right. Under the old typical law the firstlings and those without spot or blemish were used in sac- rifice. Time will come when the best music need not be sought in the opera, the best art where it represents pagan or Christian idolatry, the best poetry in the service of Bacchus, Venus, or Mars. «• The earth is Jehovah's, and the fullness thereof," and the day is dawning when the long arrears are to be collected. The beautiful must be set free from its old associations, and, with the chrism of Christ upon its forehead, it must be wedded to the true and the good. Then may he who embodies all har- mony and beauty and excellence reign over a regenerated realm. itiHi r, n far more surely tornado. Harino- nent, and melody irer strength than grip cf law. Let It is beautiful be- rld, always wiser s prostituted it to pt all beauty and baptism, and set the firstlings and ivere used in sac- e best music need best art where it dolatry, the best chus, Venus, or I, and the fullness ig when the long free from its old ti of Christ upon to the true and :mbodies all har- ice reign over a liffiiiiiiiiiiiii liiiiiiiB'il'P MY NRtGHBOR, WHEN the lawyer would test Christ's teach- ing upon moral obligation, he asked what he should do to inherit eternal life. The Savior responded by questioning him upon the "Mosaic Law." The question was quite in the lawyer's line, and in reply he epitomized the Jewish code in an able manner. He gathered in one state- ment all our duties to God, and in another our duties to our fellow beings. He showed a fine analytic as well as synthetic power in stating, not the common frame-work of the duty, but its underlying principle. "Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart and with all thy soul, and with all thy strength, and with all thy mind, and thy neighbor as thyself." We may imagine that the Master's keen eye was fastened upon the face of the comfortable, self-righteous lawyer, and the word slid from his lips touching like a lance of steel the core of the man's egotism, "This do and thou shalt live." Stung by an awakened conscience and "willing •mmtmmum m.h'M DIAMOND DUST. to justify himself" he asked 2 lUtTe petulantly, as we may suppose, "Who is my neighbor?" The Savior, who always used consummate skill in dealing with human nature, did not an- swer directly. As a Jew he woiHd have replied, "One of your race, or nation, 01 creed." As the Son of man he must give a broader scope to the obligation. But first he must, if possible, disarm the lawyer's prejudice, that the truth, which so clear a thinker was able to apprehend, might also be received into his heart and make him free. So the Master told a story, the dra- matic interest of which would take the attention of the other from its personal point till the prin- ciple it was meant to illustmte had been accepted. It was about a Jew who fell among thieves and was neglected by the priest and the Levite— the representatives of religion and learning, and cared for by the Samaritan, a man of impure blood and corrupt creed. In conclusion the Master asked which was neighbor unto him that fell among the thieves? The lawj'-r occupied with the principle involved, gave a straightforward an- swer, "He that showed mercy on him." Then the lance of truth touched again his sordid soul, " Go and do thou likewise.", ' ' The lesson of social obligation taught in this parable may be formulated something in this I liii jriit'iai-liiiiiinia^iytia^ja^: > DUST. ted a lUtTe petulantly, 'ho is my neighbor?" ays used consummate an nature, did not an- he woifld have replied, lation, 01 creed." As five a broader scope to he must, if possible, udice, that the truth, fc^as able to apprehend, to his heart and make told a story, the dra- >uld take the attention )nal point till the prin- rate had been accepted, ell among thieves and it and the Levite — the ind learning, and cared man of impure blood :onclusion the Master •r unto him that fell lawj'»r occupied with e a straightforward an- ercy on him." Then again his sordid soul, Hgation taught in this ;d something in this MY NEIGHBOR. 159 way : The knowledge of need and tiie ability to meet it lay upon one a responsibility commensu- rate with his power to serve. It is not optional with us to help those who need our aid. There is an obligation upon us as sacred and binding as it is possible for any to be, because it is one that grows out of the nature of our relation to others, and it is laid upon us by God himself. Paul said, "I am a debtor both to the Greeks and to the barbarians, both to the wise and to the unwise." He has been much lauded for his generous self-giving, as if it were all gratuitous, unconstrained benevolence. He, however, with a clearer insight into the relation of men to men, regarded himself as simply discharging an obligation laid upon him by the knowledge of the danger of sinners and of their possible sal- vation mad*? plain to him by the love of Christ which was shed abroad in his heart by the Holy Ghost. ^^ He says, "The love of Christ constrain- eth us." We suppose him to mean that he had been brought into such sympathy with the Re- deemer's purpose to save all people that he had to live by the law of that love and knowledge, doing all that was possible to help every human being that he could reach. He is simply paying a debt that he owed to Greek and barbarian, m i6o DIAMOND DUST. bond and free. There was no merit in all those toils and travels, perils of waters and of robbers, shipwrecks and persecutions. He owed human- ity that debt of service. If he had been asked if this obligation was special, resting upon him and not- upon others, he would have replied, *'No man liveth to himself." The warp and woof of our indebtedness are interwoven with the tissue of every other human life. None of us can cut himself loose from the rest and say, "I stand alone, owing no man aught." To every soul that needs our help, and that we may be able to aid, we are bound by a chain as unbreakable as that which holds the planets in their orbits. We are debtors to our families, our commu- nities, and the race. We confess judgment when the first item of this claim is presented. Our very selfishness prompts us to care for our own families. If we neglect them, we know that we are planting thorns in the paths our feet must tread in the old years, when our steps are tottering and uncertain. The recognition of our debt decreases in proportion to our distance from those to whom we owe service. It is like the rays of a lamp merit in all those rs and of robbers, He owed human- lis obligation was not- upon others, 9 man liveth to r indebtedness are very other human ilf loose from the , owing no man eds our help, and ; are bound by a which holds the ilies, our commu- the first item of very selfishness \ families. If we we are planting lust tread in the re tottering and ^bt decreases in 1 those to whom ! rays of a lamp "}M'" i '8'H'i"8 « tt?aSiSfL;t jfe^/; MY NEIGHBOR. diverging and growing less in power with each yard of space they traverse. The philanthropic radius is circumscribed with some good people, reaching hardly beyond their immediate vicinage. Their daily prayer, if freely translated, would be little more than, "Bless me and my wife, Son John and his wife. Us Tour , And no more." That we may bring our families to the broad- est charity, the best life, the horizon of our sympathies must be widened. Besides this home care we m :st recognize our debt of obligation to the community. This caring only for those whom we can see and hear and touch, forgetting our obligation to all others, is a little as if one should pay his shoemaker promptly because he happens to live within sound of the man's hammer, ignoring the claims of all creditors who chance to live a few blocks away. Some reach a little farther, taking in "our Church," "our town." Others have a sense of obligation that vitalizes those vague abstractions, "the government," "our country "--patriotism they call the sentiment. If we search carefully enough we may find II vmmmmtnii^^-iAn^i ^«^^j8s«m»« I ■: ! 1 i6a DIAMOND DUST. the root of most of these benevolent impulses in selfishness. Unless our friends are respecta- able and good, we are disgraced by their mis- deeds. Unlesfhour community has a reputation for morality, our real estate depreciates in value. Unless our country is prosperous, all our per- sonal interests are in peril- Only the few who have stood beside the all- bving Christ upon the mount of God can send their thought away east, west, north, and south to all races and tribes, peoples and kin- dreds, understanding that they are bound to all, no matter how uncouth in life, how rough in speech, how low in civilization, by the unbreak- able bond of human brotherhood^ Christian ob- ligation. Only those divinely illuminated souls, looking away from that height of spiritual vision, acknowledge that they owe a debt of service to each wild Bedouin sweeping across his desert waste, each Esquimaux shivering in his snow- hQt, each naked negro panting under the equator, each Indian rajah and Chinese cooly, each Si- berian serf and American freedman, each drunk- ard staggering toward perdition, each lost woman hiding in her den of infamy, each vagabond child thrice orphaned and desolate. Whether we apprehend the obligation or not, we o\Ye a debt to all our race. None are so far \ -• rsT. enevolent impulses -lends are respecta- ■aced by their mis- ty has a reputation epreclates in value, erous, all our per- tood beside the all- it of God can send west, north, and I, peoples and kin- Y are bound to all, life, how rough in in, by the unbreak- liood^ Christian ob- ' illuminated souls, t of spiritual vision, I debt of service to : across his desert ering in his snow- : under the equator, ;se cooly, each St- :dman, each drunk- m, each lost woman ach vagabond child £ obligation or not, None are so far MY NEIGHBOR. 163 beneath us but we can go down to their neces- sity; none so far above us but we can reach them to pay the debt. All arc in want. All suffer in their threefold life from its very beginning. Invisible harpies hover about the vestibule of being, and attack tooth and nail every little helpless human. The few who fight their way up through the multi- form maladies of the first years, find themselves, even before Time claims his license to pull them to pieces, grievously hurt in all their triple life. It would puzzle the angels to find one who was sound even in body. The whimsical, rickety, patched up old tene- ment is usually an exponent of the wretched life under its miserable rocT. So the unsound body represents, not unfairly, the general pitiful mental condition. Th^re are as few in complete health of mind as of body. We use gentle names in speaking of intellect- ual unsoundness, for we do not relish awkward plainness in regard to our own ailments. We have "low spirits," "the blues," "hypochon- dria," when blunders, misjudgments, and evil surmisings indicate that the mental machinery is getting out of repair. When the disease has reached a given point, the general safety de-, mands that the patient be shut within stone |64 DIAMOND DUST. > Hi walls, subjected to careful sanitary treatment, and put in a strait-jacket. We pity the poor wretches who have lost their reason as if it were an unusual calamity, yet we can not walk a block in any town with- out looking into the blank faces of fools who can not reason, the sharp faces of bigots who will not, and the close faces of knaves who dare not, use their reasoning powers. Apish vanity, foxy cunning, wolfish cruelty, hyena like jealousy, with all their '.Ith and kin of brute passions and beastly appetites, lie in wait to mar and maim and poison the soul. You may wade through miles of people upon city pavements without finding one who is free from physical disease ; so you may travel leagues without finding one unhurt in mind, perfectly sound in spirit. Moral infirmities and maladies are even more common and pitiful than those of body or mind. Multitudes have felt the touch of the Great Physician, but very few of us have pennitted him to bring us to even our own scant notions of moral health and vigor. We dislike to look upon ulcers, goiter, idiocy, misshapements, physical and mental. If our eyes were opened to see our own moral deform- ities and those of the people about us, we 'ST. ianitary treatment, les who have lost unusual calamity, in any town with- es of fools who can jf bigots who will aves who dare not, ig, wolfish cruelty, their '.Ith and kin ly appetites, lie in poison the soul. Bs of people upon Ig one who is free may travel leagues in mind, perfectly lies are even more ; of body or mind, uch of the Great us have pennitted own scant notions cers, goiter, idiocy, mental. If our 3wn moral deform- ple about us, we MY NEIGHBOR. i6S should be driven to a hermit's cell to escape the painful sights of every day. There is more tragedy in every life than was ever brought out upon the stage. Every feast has its skeleton. Under the peals of merriment and shouts of triumph may be heard the rattling menace of its fleshless fingers, the sullen chatter of its lipless teeth. Every human being, unless healed by the good Christ, is, by the witness of God, "full of wounds and bruises and putrefy- ing sores;" and the worst hurts, the deepe.st gashes, are hid most secretly. They must be sought out, if one would help the sufferer. You meet a man in society who looks robust enough to relish a good dinner and digest it sat- isfactorily. You excliange with him the com- monplaces of the day, and then you go your way, like the priest and the Levite, leaving him in his utter darkness to stagger and grope and clutch after the rope of faith that has been wrenched from him by human treachery. You are seated for an hour's talk with a lady. The worn pleasantries of chitchat are tossed back and forth gayly enough. If you \yould listen so wisely as to catch the hard whisper of her soul's dire need, the smile would fade from your eye, and the jest hurry back from your lip ; for before you is not a merry-hearted woman. wbuMtfi'i'xm'MWintw IWBO«***il»*^ 1 66 DIAMOND DUST. j^W' full of life and hope, but a wretched soul wrest- ling with fearful doubts of man's truth and God's pity. i Perhaps but little was required of you for the helping of these needy people. Only the cup of cold water. Not an exhortation nor a sermon, possibly jiot even an uttered prayer — only to give the bewildered soul a look into a pair of steady, kind, honest eyes, or the grasp of a clean hand — yet it might have held the wavering faith, till the courage had regained its strength. A world better if you had not been bom, than for you to be delinquent in these simple debts — this throw- ing a rope to the shipwrecked. A man is driving to market along a surf- beaten shore. In the last night's gloom ruffian winds and merciless waves seized a good ship and dragged her down to the cavernous depths. In the cold gray morning men and women are toss- ing in the breakers, clinging to spars and boards, and crying for help. What does our comfortable marketer do ? Does he spring from his wagon and use every effort to get men, anJ ropes, and boats before the poor, drowning peo- ple are swallowed up by the hungry sea? Oh, no. He drives on, whistling a careless tune, and busying himself upon the probable gain from his load. What cares he for the perishing wretches? t-~^: n sr. retched soul wrest- man's truth and ■I lired of you for the Only the cup of lion nor a sermon, rayer — only to give o a pair of steady, 3 of a clean hand — wavering faith, till strength. A world im, than for you to debts — this throw- 1. rket along a surf- ght's gloom ruffian :ed a good ship and ernous depths. In iid women are toss- ng to spars and What does our •oes he spring from rt to get men, anJ oor, drowning peo- hungry sea? Oh, a careless tune, and bable gain from his perishing wretches? A/y tfElGHBOK. 167 Why, he does not know one of them even by name. He left his own safe in their homes. Lynch him ? Not so fast. Execrable murderer as he is, he will live to a fair age if one who is without guilt must cast at him the first stone. Victor Hugo in " Les Miserables " makes his bishop regard himself as having wrongf^d the poor, because he bought comforts for himself with the fnoney that he might have used in buy- ing them bread, and Jean Valjean as no worse in stealing the articles than he in keeping their value from the starving. The French philosopher may have over- wrought a trifle his picture in his attempt to make us see our obligation to the poor, yet John Wes- ley was about as extravagant when he said, " If I die worth ten pounds men may call me a vil- lain." Hugo's sad eyes have been fixed upon the maelstrom where the unfortunate are drawn down to death, unpitied and uiihelped, till his brain may not be steady enough to work out the problem of their rescue ; yet he lays a stout hand upon every man's shoulder, and with the peremp- toriness of justice he charges him with unpaid indebtedness ; worse, with the embezzlement of widow's crusts and pauper's rags. In the "Cruel social juggle " he turns his sharp gaze this way and that for help, but in vain. Another, whose ifiwirwiiiiiii ■■ :;.'f' 1 68 DIAMOND DUST. heart is no more deeply touched with a sense of wrong, but upon whose eyes God's Ught has been poured, jnay lead us directly to Christ, the em- bodiment of unselfish love, as the one cure of this terrible plague. With the increase of knowledge comes an m- crease of responsibility. We are living in an ear- nest, restless time. Many "run to and fro, and knowledge is increased." Steam navigation, rail- roads, telegraphs have made all nations our next- door neighbors. The Celestial Empire has been towed across the sea and anchored to our West ern coast. It is even emptying upon our coun- try its surplus population. We have already in the United States two hundred thousand Chi- namen. It is an unambitious college that has not a Japanese name in its catalogue. One can hardly meet a parlor full of comfortably intelligent peo- ple without hearing one say, •' I saw the like of that in Shanghai," and another, "We bought that in Calcutta." The dark side of the world is rolling up toward the light. We adjust our postal and tel- egraphic glasses, and peer across the narrowing Pacific. We talk over at the breakfast-table what the East Indians were about last evening. For- merly those great lands full of queer people were ST. MY NEIGHBOR. 169 ed with a sense of od's light has been Christ, the cm- i the one cure of edge comes an in- t living in an ear- in to and fro, and m navigation, rail- nations our next- Empire has been >red to our West 5 upon our coun- e have already in ed thousand Chi- ;e that has not a One can hardly ly intelligent peo- 1 saw the like of ler, " We bought Id is rolling up ur postal and tel- •ss the narrowing eakfast-table what st evening. For- lueer people were all ten-ught to make for the gurgle in the that they drown. J mothers pushed :he tender mercies We know their ir neighbors. We stbility of sharing rer day, the bless- n. \ also by the in- nity is the main- science, literature, ; and with each and travel there ' and progress are ease cf Christian [) bring tMhgs to 3wer comes »^dded ored. [ prepare and send as never before. 15 to make a copy niv-re for a sailing with its precious from the mill and in a few days our MY NEIGHHOK. 171 ship has steamed around the world leaving at each port the Word of Life. Fifty years ago it was a rare thing to find one who could read an Oriental language. Now, classes meet in our parlors hunting for Hebrew roots as an afternoon recreation, and our colleges turn out readers of Sanskrit by the dozen. It will not be long till a cued Chinaman or a nim- ble-wltted Japane.sc professor will be teaching Oriental monosyllabics at each of our educational centers. Already in a national university in Japan is there a professorship of moral philos- ophy filled by a Christian missionary, who uses the New Testament as his text-book in ethics. If the sense of responsibility in the Christian Church had gone beyond that of the apostolic era in the ratio of added ability, long ere this the world would have been evangelized. During Pauls thirty-three itinerant years South- western Asia and Southern Europe were dotted with churches. Not a city of consequence in the civilized world was left unvisited. Compa- nies of men and women fished from the slums of heathen sensualism became the primitive Church, to whose purity and excellence we are never tired of referring. When Paul was in Corinth, writing to the Church at Rome, he told them that he must fffti im m 17a DIAMOND DUST. carry to Jerusalem a benefaction for the poor Christians there from the Macedonians. After that journey he hoped to go to Spain and visit his Roman friends by the way. It was no small matter in those days of slow, unsafe sailing to go from one end of the Mediterranean to the other. It was as if one of us should write to a Church in Bombay, "I must carry a gift from the Bos- tonians to the poor saints at Athens. After I have performed that duty, I hope to go to Pe- king to preach the Gospel there, and I will stop and see you in Bombay on my journey thither." If the sense of obligation to all men crowded the apostle to the Gentiles through all manner of perils and afflictions, how ought our added knowledge and ability to urge us onward in this work of the world's conquest for Christ. If the Church in these days were moved by that prim- itive zeal, every one of the dark-souled millions would have a knowledge of Christ's salvation within a decade. In giving the ignorant masses, at home or abroad, a knowledge of salvation by Christ, we help them in all their hurt threefold life. Christianity establishes not only Churches and Sabbath-schools, but it provides asylums for the inHrm, hospitals for the .sick, care for the aged, homes for the homeless, friends for the friend- OUST. ifaction for the poor Macedonians. After ;o to Spain and visit 'ay. It was no small /, unsafe sailing to go Tranean to the other. Id write to a Church a gift from the Bos- at Athens. After I I hope to go to Pe- :here, and I will stop my journey thither." ti to all men crowded > through all manner jw ought our added ge us onward in this St for Christ. If the moved by that prim- dark-souled millions of Christ's salvation masses, at home or 'vation by Christ, we threefold life, ot only Churches and vices asylums for the k, care for the aged, iends for the friend- MY NEIGHBOR. 173 less, schools for the ignorant, health, peace, prosperity for all. I might fill my house with the shiveiing poor, and it would become only what Christianity has taught every city and county to build — ^an alms- house or hospital. If I give those same poor people a knowledge of Christ's power to save from sensuality and vice, I make them self-sup- porting. Their sins are the one luxury that they can not afford. What they spend in intoxicants, physical and mental, would give them an inde- pendence, with ample medicine and care for their illnesses. The religion of the Lord Jesus teaches us to crowd this common evangelism while we provide amply and generously for those who must be cared for by general public charity. We can meet our obligation to our neighbors only by giving them a knowledge of Christ's power to make them pure and free, strong and noble. As the greater includes the less, this will be a medicine for all the ills that infest humanity, a lifting of the curse from our sorrowing race. When we meet our ordinary financial obliga- tions we take a receipt acknowledging the fact. We need expect no credit on this world's 'books for the expenditure of time and money and strength in paying the debts that we call benev- aBMMM I 174 DIAMOND DUST. olent. Indeed, so sadly are beliefs and notions of right jumbled, we will pass for fanatics and fools, if we do not spend our substance in add- ing to our own magnificence, rather than in be- stowing upon others as God wills. We can do this work properly only when we have reference to the record above, careless whether the eyes about us beam kindly or dart upon us scathing contempt and hate. The unslumbering Eye notes even the cup of ccld water given in his name. ■ God never forgets. He will not pass lightly over any neglect of obligation. "My lord car- dinal," said Anne of Austria to Richelieu, "God does not pay at the end of each week, but at the last he pays.'* He will hold us to the uttermost farthing if wc fail of our duty to his poor, be they sufferers in estate or body, in mind or spirit. "Then shall the King say also unto them on the left- hand, Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlast- ing fire, prepared for th* devil and his angels; for I was a-hungered, and ye gave me no meat: I war> thirsty, and ye gave me no drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me not in: naked, and ye clothed me not: sick, and in prison, and ye visited nie not. Then shall they also answer him, saying. Lord, when saw we thee a-hungered, Jt/y NEIGHBOR, »7S iefs and notions for fanatics and ibstante in add- ther than in be- 5. y only when we careless whether or dart upon us le unslumbering 1 water given in not pass lightly "My lord car- Richelieu, "God :h week, but at most farthing if be they sufferers spirit. "Then dem on the left- ed, into everlast- and his angels; ive me no meat: no drink: I was t in: naked, and 1 prison, and ye Key also answer thee a-hungered, or a-thirst, or a stranger, or naked, or sick, or in prison, and did not minister unto thee? Then shall he answer them, saying, Verily I say unto you, inasmuch as ye did it not to one of the least of these, ye did it not to me." So wonderful is his condescension and tender- ness of care, he will enter upon the Record and apportion the eternal reward as if each act of unselfish love and care of the miserable here had been done to himself. "Then shall the King say unto them on his right-hand, Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom pre- pared for you from the foundation of the world : for I was a-hungered, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in: naked, and ye clothed me : I was sick, and ye visited me : I was in prison, and ye came unto me. Then shall the righteous answer him, saying, Lord, when saw we thee a-hungered, and fed thee? or thirsty, and gave ihee drink? When saw we thee a stranger, and took thee in ? or naked, and clothed thee? or when saw we thee sick, or in prison, and came unto thee? And the King shall an- swer and say unto them. Verily I say unto you, inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me." 176 DIAMOND DUSr. Lowell's knight, in his vision, found this glorious truth — the same that the Master taught in the parable of the Good Samaritan: , <' For Christ's sweet sake I beg an alms." '•Sir Launfal sees only the grewsome thin^, 'llie leper lank as the rain-blanclied bone. That cowers beside him, a thing as lone And white as the ice isles of Norlhevn seas. In the desolate horror cf his disease. And Sir Lattnfnl said, • I behold in thee An iinnge of Ilim who died on the tree. Mild Mary's Son acknowledge me. Behold through him I give to thee.' Then th: ioul of the leper stood up in his eyes. And looked at Sir Launfnl, and straightway he Remembered in what a haughtier guise He had flung an alms to leprosie ; When he girt his young life up in gilded mail And set forth in search of the Holy Giail. The heart within him was ashes and dust ; He parted in twain his single crust. He broke the ice on the streamlet's brink And gave the leper to eat and drink. 'T was a moldy crust of coarse brown bread, •T was water out of a wooden bowl. Yet with fine wheaten bread was' the leper fed, And 't was red wine he diank with his thirsty soul. As Sir Launfal mused with a downcast face, A light shone round about the place; The leper no longer crouched at his side But stood before him gtorif.ed. Shining and tall and fair and straigKt As the pillar that stood by the Beautiful Gate 5 sion, found this le Master taught aritati : , !|r an alms." ne thin^, eil bonci as lone ilietn seas, use. n thee he tree. » 'I ee.' up in his eyes, trni|rhtway he r guise 1 gilded mail ^ i)y Giail. ind dust; St, t's brink 'ink. own bread, ' the leper fed, th his thirsty soul. ncast face, ace; his side ight autirul Gate ; 177 AfV NEIGHBOK, Himself t!.e gale whereby men can Enter the temple of God in man. His words were shed softer than leaves from the pine. And they fell o'l Sir Launfal as snows on the brine. Which mingle ti.eir softness and quiet in one With the shaggy nnrest they float down upon. And the voice, that was calmer than silence, said ; ' Lo it is I, be not afraid. In many climes without avail Thou hast spent thy life for the Holy Grail ; Behold, it is here, this cup which t'.ou Didst fill at the streamlet for Me but now; This crust is my body broken for thee. This water his blood that died on the tree; The Holy Supper is kept indeed, In whatso we share with another's need, Not what we give, but what we share. For the gift without the giver is bare. Who gives himself, with his alms, feeds three,— Himself, his hungering neighbor, and me.' " 13 I 1. 1 1 '%. 178 DIAMOND DUS1. JfO^Sf MO €J^M S^D OS "UttfJ; FIRST let us acknowledge fairly that we are sufTering from that horrid mental indisposi- tion, and not go about with a machine-made smile and uplifted brows, trying to cheat our- selves into a belief that, though we are the most unfortunate and sadly abused persons on the planet, yet we are altogether saintly in pa- tience — indeed, fair specimens of the noble army of martyrs. Let us lay aside our mask of wintery sunshine, and confess honestly and un- flinchingly, "Yes; I'm in the blues. I know I ought to rejoice evermore, and in every thing give thanks, yet somehow my cares are quite too much for me." Let us face the danger of indulging in the melancholy pleasure of being thoroughly wretched over every little piece of ill-fortune. Let us understand that, if we make mountains out of molehills of trouble, we shall abide under the shadow of snow-caoped miseries all the long, long, weary 3/3. 2. 01 "Uttfi; fairly that we are mental indisposi- a machine-made ng to cheat our- 1 we are the most persons on the ;r saintly in pa- of the noble army ie our mask of honestly and un- blues. I know I id in every thing y cares are quite * indulging in the oroughly wretched -fortune. Let us mountains out of I abide under the rJes all the long, //Oty TO GET RID OF "THE BLUES." 179 The diagnosis of the case will not be difficult if we apprehend the presence and importance of the disease. There is a close analogy between physical and mental ailments. Sometimes a part of the physical mechanism gets out of order, and the patient pays little attention, hoping to be well in a few days. The disea.'ie, meanwhile, creeps stealthily and steadily toward the stronghold of life, till some miserable morning the man Awakes to the fact that he is at its mercy. It can be dislodged from the cit- adel of strength only by severe and snergetic measures. In like manner many a tired heart yields to a sense of discomfort that grows into a burden of care, an unbearable load, accompanied by all manner of forbodings, evil surmisings, misap- prehensions, and heart-break, till the sufferer finds himself at last in a cell with padded walls. Let us take these mental maladies in time; and first let us find the seat of the disease. There has been a deal of blundering at this point. Some of our wise moderns declare that a torpid liver is at the bottom of the mischief. They prescribe blue-pill or podophyllin to take the indigo out of affairs. Tliey believe that the .rMm, ;:nrf fflfrKT ■ ^af*ff giS^'-7i;^-'f'y»S.^"fti'i-" - ■■ % iff I i [r|^ DIAMOND DUST. mental health hinges altogether upon physical conditions. Their one remedy for all the ills that flesh is heir to is found in good, generous care of the body. They can not claim originality in these no- tions. The old Greeks put the highest premium upon physical and aesthetic culture as conducive to mental and moral excellence. They paid supreme national honors to the man of fleetest foot and firmest muscle. Their success in that line of development was unparalleled, yet they had a state of morals that could but give the gloomiest views of life here and hereafter. If they did not have "the blues" it was no credit to their common sense. Plato said: "While the soul is mingled with this mass of evil, our desires for truth can not be satisfied ; for the body is a source of endless trouble to us, filling us with fears, fancies, idols, and every sort of folly. It prevents our ever having so much as a thought." No one can deny that the body aflects the mind, depressing it when out of repair and ren- dering it faithful service only when sound; yet we must insiit that mental disease is usually out of the reach of physical remedies. From close observation, as well as from pitiful personal ex- periences, we may conclude that the mental dis- ler upon physical y for all the ills in good, generous jality in these no- e highest premium Iture as conducive jnce. They paid he man of fleetest eir success in that aralleled, yet they :ould but give the and hereafter. If " it was no credit 3ul is mingled with 1 for truth can not 1 source of endless "ears, fancies, idols, prevents our ever le body affects the of repair and ren- / when sound; yet sease is usually out edies. From close pitiful personal ex- that the mental dis- ffOlV TO GET RID OF ''THE BLUES." l8l order known as "the blues" is to be regarded simply as an aggravated attack of egotism, and as soch it must be treated. Instead of saying, with amiable self-pity, "I have the blues to-day,", let us use plain English, • ' I am suffering from an attack of egotism." The victims of the disease are legion. The young girl at a party who is uncomfortable un- less she has an opportunity to shine with special brilliancy at the piano or elsewhere ; the young man who measures the enjoyment of the even- ing by the amount of attention he receives from host, hostess, or distinguished guests; the brother who has a good prayer meeting only when he has the lion's share of theexercises; the woman who must lug into the conversation the story of the fine home she came from, the elegant people who arc on her calling list, the trip to Europe she expects to take next year; the stupid old fellow who is forever telling of the things that happened when he was in college, the fine position his son is taking in business or political life, the excellent match his daughter is about to make, — each contented or wretched in proportion to the attention given by odiers io his weighty personalities — in cases like these the symptoms are so plain, there is little trouble with the diagnosis. .^m^^mL^ ^m iSa DIAMOND DUST. " But I 'm sure 1 'm no egotist." says a reti- cent, sharp-browrl man who carries an iceberg atmosphere about with him at least three hundred days of the year. "I seldom talk about myself or my doings. The fact is, I 've felt a hundred tunes like shooting myself because I'm such a dunce." You no ( ;otlst! Why, my friend, you have a determination to be first and foremost in all things, a purpose as inveterate as that that nerved Alexander to mow down human oppo- nents as men cut grain. You have too much conscience to give the purpose full play, and be- cause you have not brain enough to carry out your mighty egotism, you have a falling out with seF. Every no'- and then you set your will as a rtint to be somewhat in the world yet, and the failure leads you to the shooting point. Your e{. otism is ten times deeper and more dangerous tlian that of your braggadocio brother. His bubbles to the surface; yours seethes and burns like a pent volcano. Your reticence and dispar- agement of self are chains and rods that your, conscience whispers necessary to keep the giant down. "True, true," sighs a sad-faced Christian with a meek drawl of self depreciation. " Egotism is a great hindrance to grace, and I'm thankful ST. ;otist " says a reti- carries all iceberg least three hundred talk about myself [ 've felt a hundred ecause I 'm such a »y friend, you have nd foremost in all ■rate as that that lown human oppo- ou have too much ;e full play, and be- lough to carry out vt a falling out with 'ou set your will as ; world yet, and the loting point. Your ind more dangerous locio brother. His s seethes and burns reticence and dispar- and rods that your, y to keep the giant -faced Christian with ation. "Egotism is . and I'm thankful HOW TO GET RID OF ''THE BLUES » 1 83 I 'm safe from that snare. I always feel to mourn over my own unworthiness." And yet yours is one of the most inveterate cases of spiritual egotism — if there is such a tiling. Half your moping over your narrow usefulness — ^as you cheat yourself to think it — is really dissatisfaction that you are not regarded specially successful in the work you attempt. If you will analyze the mortification over your failures, you will find that your grief is not usually because the Master's work is suffering loss, but because you yourself are likely to come out minus the eclat that is so very agreeable an incense to burn before the ego. From observing these follies in ourselves and others, we have come to conclude that ordinarily the pain we suffer over hard circumstances, per- sonal incompetence, lack of opportunity, possi- ble, probable, and actual failure, which we call having the blues, is simply the result of more or less acute egotism, that can be gotten rid of only by remedies that go back of the physical, back even of the mental, and take hold of the spir- itual life. Webster defines egotism "a passionate love of self, leading a man to consider every thing as connected with his own person, and to prefer himself to every thing in the world." '1 "■ , ! i ' '■■'iaii:' j ! »«4 DIAMOND DUST. Man has been sagely called a microcosm. This ridiculous passion makes every "little world" the center of the universe; as if each planet and satellite and speck of star dust should gla.ice grandly around through the infinite spaces, and stretch its tiny rays to enlighten all, feeling its wonderful self the central point, the mainspring, the moving power of the whole; and then, if every planet, sun, and system did not in some way reflect its infinitesimal glory, it should fold in its rays as if it would mantle itself in gloom. Forsooth its efforts at shining are so utterly unappreciated that it may as well give up all attempts thereat, and punish the perverse indifference. Egotism attacli? is s arly, we can not note its incipiency. Wc dawn upon ourselves so gradually, and o inany of our earlier entries are written over, : lubbed from the record, we can not decipher the date of the birth of our self- consciousness. Richter is the only one I know who gives the when and where of his first cog- nizance of self— his discovery of the ego: Ich bin ein ich. A little undue attention, an amount of in- dulgence that it is a pleasure to give, and almost immediately the child is brought under the power of egotism. Under the hot-house devel- ,•.. til .ifMsmatim'^. :d a microcosm. ;» every ' little /erse; as if each r star dust should igh the infinite I to enlighten all, entral point, the )f the whole; and I system did not tesimal glory, it )uld mantle itself at shining are so nay as well give nish the perverse we can not note )on ourselves so earlier entries are le record, we can birth of our self- only one I know ; of his first cog- of the ego: Ich in amount of in- j give, and almost ought under the ; hot-house devel- \ ■:imr"mm^mmm^^^vi^: r ^^.^a IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) R' CIHM/ICMH Collection de microfiches. Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductlons / Institut Canadian de microreproductions historlques t'A^'sr.jiiS NOIV TO GET RID OF "THE BLUES." 185 opment process, all the pert sayings and pretty doings rehearsed before the helpless innocent while he is subjected to an infinity of adulations and flatteries, it will be strange if you do not see the self smirk in his eye almost as soon as he can go alone. The little maiden sulking in the corner be- cause she can no^ have the very finest doll her imagination can conceive, the small boy who is ready to burst into violent indignation because he can not whip every body of his size, and be acknowledged the prince and paragon in every mannish line— these baby humans are already in the advanced stages of the disease; and, ten chances lo one, their verj' best friends by the sweetmeats given in mistaken tenderness have thrown them intc ue paroxysm. Our school work is so planned that we run the risk of a strong development of egotism by our eflforts to arouse children to a necessary mental effort. So perverse is humanity even in the dewy morning time, there seems to be only one way of getting the lumbering, clumsy intellectual machinery in motion— that is, by stirring up the egotism. "Emulation," minces the teacher; "Leaving off head," shout the childre:.. All' tlie same, a strengthened reiteration of the "Oh how pretty!" of the lursery-a making of 1 86 DIAMOND DUST. each child's consciousness the center of the universe. Thus, in the cradle, through the school years and on, egotism is pampered and cultured. It grows with the growth, and strengthens with the strength, till its fibers become so interwoven with the very tissue of the being its removal is like cutting a tumor from a vital organ — almost equivalent to taking the life of the patient. In mature years not only do flatterers, who try to secure favors from us through our vanity, in- crease our opinion of our own importance, but our very efforts at self-improvement lead in the same direction. Each human soul is a grand temple built by the Lord (as his worship. Wonderful, ornate, glorious, but in ruins. Gates broken, avenues choked up, walls prostrate, arches fallen. When one looks into his own spirit, when he walks' over the rubbish of wrecked powers, stumbling upon fragments of rarest architecture, bits of richest carving and gilding, jewels that might blaze in a seraph's crown, he can but feel the .excellence of this masterpiece of God's handi- work. His language is a risky vehicle trundling ove. r i\\ causeway, fit only for baggage-trains ladea ui animal needs — he can bring, no one snto the shattered splendor. He can carry few renter of the e school years cultured. It :hens with the 10 interwoven its removal is organ — almost e patient. In •s, who try to ur vanity, in- iportance, but It lead in the mple built by krful, ornate, oken, avenues alien. When hen he walks' ers, stumbling :ture, bits of Is that might 1 but feel the God's handi- licle trundling t>aggage-trains bring, no one can carry few ffOtV TO GET RID OF "THE JJLUES." 187 specimens out. He can not explore the inner sanctuary of any other life. So he comes to think, though in ruins, his is the temple, par excel- lence. He tries to clear the avenues, set up the arches, polish the gems, and as he grows enthu- siastic unless law checks his careless hand, he may wrench the guards from other lives, and tear them to pieces to build up his OAvn. Thus did that prince of egotists, the great Napoleon. Those diseases are most to be dreaded that skulk like an Indian enemy, or glide like ser- pents through the by-ways leading to the life. In egotism, as in consumption, the patient, up to the very last hour, clings to the hope that it is a mistake. , If you are sure you at least are exempt, set a guard over your thoughts for one-half day. See how carefully you hide any fact about your- self that is not altogether creditable. How in- geniously, and yet apparently without intention, you parade the items that reflect honor upon self. Your visit to the White House is sure to slip into the talk, while your sojourn in the backwoods cabin among your poor relatives never seems quite suited to point a moral, and adorn a tale. How much more agreeable it is to have strangsrs regard you richer or better educated .-» i88 DIAMOND DUST. than you really are, than to have them make the opposite mistake. Not that you mean to deceive! Oh, no. But the habit of exalting self is so strong, you move in that direction without a noticeable volition. If one touches yourself, how you resent the injury! He may strike at the selves of ten other people, and you can find a palliation for the offense. If we detect in ourselves the symptoms of egotism, we will certainly desire a cure. Our very selfishness might prompt us to this ; for not only does egotism make itself and all about un- happy by its exactions and discontent, it defeats its own purpose. This is illustrated by success in scholarship. As long as one is occupied with an earnest intention to get the surest knowledge of the theme in hand, he can but get on in his studies. But as soon as his success begins to attract attention and subject him to flatteries, he begins to fail, if he heeds them. He is like a boy playing in the snow. He can make a straight line of steps as long as he keeps his eye on the goal ; but when he looks at his own feet and notes every track, he makes a zigzag line in spite of himself. The orator who is so full of his subject that he forgets every thing in trj'ing to crowd upon ■mm^^S^ I ■■MB f^rjmmiilimHUa them make ou mean to of exalting lat direction a resent the lives of ten talliation for ^mptoms of cure. Our this; for not 11 about un- nt, it defeats »y success in cupied with t knowledge et on in his ss begins to flatteries, he snow. He \ long as he he looks at he makes a subject that crowd upon now TO GET RID OF "TJJ/i BLUES." 189 his hearers the thought that stirs his own soul, is the one who is pronounced eloquent; while the one who forgets his subject in himself usu- ally fails. In no department of effort is egotism more surely fatal to success than in religious work. Those who have been specially used by God to carry forward his work are in great danger of this infirmity. Their good works come to be spoken of with praise; and they find it easy to lose sight of the fact that all reformatory power is vested in the Lord Jesus Christ, and their only hope of success is in humble reliance upon his working in them and with them. When one forgets that he is only "A messenger at Christ's gateway Waiting for l»is command," he ceases to rely upon the Lord, and he soon finds himself shorn of strength. He may keep up the forms of earnestness, he may use the tones and forms of expression that belonged to the time when he was full of power by the Spirit of the Lord, his talk may be full of stories of the old days when the pleasure of the Lord prospered in his hand, yet his effort comes to be like the mechanical move- ments of a corpse, loathsome and disgusting. His egotism has killed his usefulness; and un- imm 190 DIAMOND DUST. less there is a revivification, the sooner the dead is buried out of our sight the better. Can egotism be aired? Can one who has be- come conscious that much of his thought is taken up with the interests of self, leaving but little vigor for high intellectual effort, or earnest spiritual v/ork, one who finds his very humility a misno ner for self pity, his despondency over his failur. s simply a morbid craving for self-adu- lation — can such a one hope for a :ure? There can be but one answer. If one hopes to enter heaven, he must be saved from this in- firmity — this sin. Otherwise he would not have peace even in the home of the glorified. We who do not believe in purgatory must look for a cure in this life. By what means can this be effected? Again, We find but one answer. Self-salvation is out of the question. We can not fortify self against self It holds the inner fortress. The very pean of victory over its fall may herald its re-en- thronement. We can not reduce it to surrender by scourg- Ings and starvation. Romanists have wrought upon that problem unsuccessfully for ages. There can be nothing in the hour and article of death to work a radical change in jthe moral nature. ■pp" ner the dead who has be- i thought is leaving but rt, or earnest ery humiUty >ndency over r for self-adu- ure? If one hopes from this in- >uld not have ified. rgatory must ted? Again, ration is out y self against The very raid its re-en- er by scourg- lave wrought [>r ages, ur and article in jthe moral mtf ffOIV TO GET KID OF "THE SELVES" 191 We must be liberated by a powe*- not our- selves, above ourselves, in this life, or we must wear the chain forever. Our only hope is in the word of the Master: "If the Son therefore shall make you '.ree, ye shall be free indeed." The salvation of the Lord Jesus Chr'st is the only cure for this inwrouglit, over-mas>,ering sel- fishness. Unless the atonement itself is a fail- ure—a tragical mistake, in Christ there must be an unfailing remedy for this and all other sins. A reasonable command presupposes power to obey. God's injunctions are eq-'.ivalent to promises. If we do our best to obey, he is pledged by his Word and held by consistency with his own declarations of purpose to give us needed grace and help. Unless the commands, "Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself," "Rejoice evermore," "In every thing give thanks," be sheer nonsense, the power to- yield complete obedience is promised ill the all-sufficient grace of Clirist. There have been examples of men and v > ,iun being completely cured of egotism by the po^er of grace, fiery souls that have become all tender- ness and charity, turbulent spirits that have' been changed into gentleness and patience; com- plaining, petulant egotists that have learned to ■ 193 DIAMOND DUST. give self utterly and joyfully for the salvation "of others. It was said of St. Jerome, ' ' He subdued the wild beasts of the desert, but it took the Master of all to tame the lion, Jerome." When we lay our selfish souls in the hands of the Great Physician for a cure, he gives us to know the meaning of those words of the apostle,- "AU things work together for good to them that love God." We rest from care of the adjust- ment of our relations and our work, for we cast all our care on him who careth for u.s. We are careful for nothing, but in every thing by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving we let our requests be made known unto God, and the peace of God which passeth all understanding shall keep our hearts and minds through Christ Jesus. We will be able to say without hyperbole, "Thanks be unto God which always causeth us to triumph in Christ." ihma. yTWt»tajai{?fcii.fa. ■•^ i the salvation e subdued the lok the Master } in the hands he gives us to of the apostle, d to them that of the adjust- rk, for we cast >r us. We are hing by prayer ng we let our God, and the understanding through Christ lOut hyperbole, vays causeth us ■"^ GETTING RICH. 193 \ 17 ANT is universal. It tugs at every human * » heart. It sobs in thfl infant's wail. It echoes in the old man's moan. It jangles through our shouts of mirth. Its discords grate and errind in our songs of triumph. :e being that bears sway in this evil world is not the man of paradise with the chrism of God's "very good" upon his forehead. This man wants persistently, perpetually. He de- mands violently. He seizes furiously. A child in reason, a beast in appetite. Yet he mistakes forever. He does not un- derstand his own need. It is the mind that wants. It is the soul that starves. Will we never learn this? When we do, I think the mil- lennium will not be very far away. This cry of want is ceaseless. It will not down. It is heard alike in cabin and cottage, hut and palace. Listen at the door of the heart of that savage. He gormandi::es like an anaconda, and lies in the sun like a lizard. He cares for his mate and •3 »94 DIAMOND DUST. her young about as the lion does, sheds blood a ruthlessly as the tiger; yet throu^^h the beastly wr.>ngling of passions, the low swash of the tide of brutish appetites, and the yell of cruel butchery sounds ever that moaning undertone of the bet- ter being,— hungry, hungry, hungry! Turn to the man who sits a king. Not a king made of purple and gems, into whose hand has chanced to fall a scepter, but the one who rules in the thought realm, and makes laws for potentates. Listen to his secret heart-throbs. Is he satisfied ? He, too, feels a pinching, wear- ing, perpetual want. The present human state is abnormal. We are shipwrecked on an enemy's shore. Stunned, stupid, we can not decipher the cabalistic char- acters of the past. We do not know the vernac- ular of present events. We will not even bend our ear to the whispers of our own inner being. What wonders would be wrought by giving one half hour of each twenty-four to the study of self- needs. Listen to your own better life. It will tell you strange, new things. You have treated yourself as a nurse does the baby she doses out of the world. It moans— down with an opiate. It wails with hunger— thrust a sweetened, sick- ening compound down its throat. It writhes with pain— toss it, shake it, trot it, give it any ■•^ GETTING RICH. I, sheds blood t^h the beastly ish of the tide cruel butchery >ne of the bet- ry! king. Not a to whose hand it the one who tiakes laws for t heart-throbs, pinching, wear- bnormal. We ore. Stunned, cabalistic char- low the vernac- not even bend m inner being, by giving one le study of self- er life. It will 3u have treated ff she doses out with an opiate, sweetened, sick- )at. It writhes t if, give it any *9S thing, every thing but the patient attention, the sure care and healthful food for which it is dying. Want prompts to acquire. A babe is iiungry. It thrusts into its mouth its fist, or the corner of its cradle quilt, now a bit of broken pottery, then a flower pretty to look upon, but with a poison drop at its heart, — whatever comes within reach of the eager, senseless clutch. As aim- lessly do grown-up children struggle to acquire, One attempts to satisfy his hunger with epi- curean luxuries. Dyspepsia and gout stand guard, but he will have these dainties for the animal, no matter about the consequence. Another seeks elegant adornments. Worms from Europe, sheep from Asia, and small, wild creatures from Arctic deserts are put under tax. Human lives are woven and stitched into his fabrics, and yet he tires oi' their beauty. It can not quiet the inner clamor. Another translates the cry into a demand for social preferment. He must rise above the common herd. So he tugs and toils, cuts fur- rows in his forehead, wears grooves in his heart, and scrambles upward. Yet the want, like the sea's eternal moan, surges ever through his life, only stronger for the aloneness of the altitude.' Another, a trifle wiser, thinks to purchase silence with choice mental viands. He seeks •^ jg6 DIAMOND DUST. rare authors, books bubbling with the ripe, red wine of poesy, resonant with the grand, heroic chimes sounded down through the ages by noble souls, — yet never for an hour does the hunger cease its gnawings. Most people think to satisfy themselves with money and the fine things it will purchase. Only fabulous misers who starve in garrets, bathing their leathery arms in golden coin, love money for its clink and glitter. The multitude seek it as the sinews of appetite, taste, and ambition. One has been trodden upon in his babyhood, chilled in his boyish years, hi? ragged coat jeered at on the play-ground. He sees that fine cloth- ing brings gentle treatment and what passes for respect. He is cold and hungry. He must have gentleness and attention. They are in the market for gold. So he sets his purpose like a flint to get gold. Another lacks courage. He rates himself at a low figure. If he can get the stamp of the world's mint upon his coinage he will believe it genuine. If he can have a good market price for his wares he will settle it that they are valuable. He will be satisfied, though he loses within an hour all they bring. One has been robbed by death, and left quite alone, even in the chill morning gray. He fancies mm 9- GF.TTING RICH. 197 the ripe, red frand, heroic ges by noble I the hunger mselves with :hase. Only rets, bathing love money :itude seek it nd ambition, s babyhood, ■d coat jeered at fine cloth- lat passes for He must ey are in the urpose like a tes himself at stamp of the vill believe it market price hat they are lugh he loses and left quite J. He fancies that money will buy friends, so he also gives himself to getting wealth. We plume ourselves that we are not ideal— we are the plain, sensible people who say what we mean and believe what we say. Imaginative folk are tl.ey who gaze at the moon and make rhymes. Yet try us by placing a bit of paper m our hands with the national promise to pay in its criss-cross of engraved lines. It might mean to the monomaniac in the garret a thousand shining dollars. The sensualist clasps it in his eager palms and sees wine sparkling, cigar smoke wreathing, horses prancing, gems flash- ing. light feet tinkling, music rippling, laughter ringing. To the artistic, it means a sail on the moon- lit, castled Rhine, Swiss mountain views, studies of the old masters, rambles among ruins of Rome and Athens. To the literary, it represents walks alone with calm-orowed old sages, hymns of immortal vigor, racy chats with spicy moderns. The dullest dolt holding it in his hand, the magic little possessive "mine" tingling on his tongue tip, would hardly fail to see in it the things for which he thinks the want within him' clamoring. We talk of the idealism of ancient pagans mm \g8 DIAMOND DUST. who looked into the calm, mild eyes of the sacred ox to see the Spirit of Eternal Power and Patience— forgetting the beast in the idea for which it stood. We are not a whit less imagi- native. We seize bits of green-tinted, pictured paper, to acquire which we have risen early and sat up late and eaten the bread of carefulness— we think we see in them the satisfying of the needs that crowd us to effort. The ignorant Hindoo worships the image he carries in his robe. The Brahmin may claim to have his thought upon the spirit represented by the idol. Yet the soul of each is bowed before a low sensualism of his own production. The name matters little. The mode is of small con- sequence. If we were to demolish all the idols of heathendom, unless by some divine process we could get into the pagan soul a nobler idea of the Infinite, the result would be only a new harvest for the image-makers, a new growth of sensuality. To correct the disordered expres- sion of our sense of need, the ideal must be renovated. The want must be interpreted aright. Many of our tnodes of getting rich are honor- able; but others are evil, even under the sanc- tion of law. If a man chances to be born the heir of a coronet or a crown, that accident en- titles him to the result of the hard work of «ii> < U i te«fcWl l f * i *MMi|»' t> '«fa W i' - ' «'«t ''i ■■P" ^n 9 ;yes of the I Power and he idea for : less imagi- ed, pictured ;n early and :arefulness — fying of the he image he nay claim to presented by (owed before action. The of small con- all the idols ivine process a nobler idea : only a new w growth of lered expres- leal must be preted aright. ch are honor- der the sanc- » be born the t accident en- lard work of ■■P" GETTING RICH. 199 scores of others who must starve, body and soul for his enrichment. The trouble lies back of the grinding and oppression, the thefts and robberies. There is an unsound idea in the foundation of the social structure — a wrong rendering of the need — a de- termination to be rich in purse only, and not in mind and soul. Under this regime three people have to be ground up, spirit and muscle, that the fourth may have the means of satisfying his hunger. The question turns upon who shall be the for- tunate fourth in this struggle. The answer is usually the old formula of the survival of the fittest — the strongest of sinew or brain or will, or by that aggregate of will, known as law. If they who have power to put others under tax comprehended that their own want could be satisfied only by the enduring riches, they would find means to live in the good and the right way, without harm to others. We begin early to give our children a wrong bias in this matter. The want within sets the little one reaching after whatever is desirable. Parents, too thoughtless, too indolent, or too in- tent on getting money to give due attention - even to so weighty a matter as the shaping of the characters of their children, satisfy them- it 300 DIAMOND DUST. selves by flinging a legal barrier in the path of the inclination. There is no effort to teach the restless, grasping little being that it is a higher pleasure to give to make others happy, to share, to know. He soon comes to believe that he must pos- sess if he would enjoy; an error in the formulae of the first chapter. Then the tin savings-bank for hoarding pen- nies. To buy comforts for the sick child back in the alley, bread for the poor. Bibles for the heathen? Oh, no< To teach liim to be saving. "To see how much he can get." Your child hardly needs to be taught that he must get and save money if he would be happy. The world will wear that lessdn into him soon enough. Possibly as a birth-gift he has received quite too strong a tendency in that direction. Mother, would you look for the ripened fruit of your careless sowing? See yourself thirty years hence, infirm, old, alone. Your son will not starve you in a garret. He is too proud for that — too humane, possibly — but not too humane to starve you in a corner of his mansion. He has grown rich. The soil of his heart is tramped down, trodden hard by the ceaseless round of bargains, sales, moneyed schemes. His life's horizon is narrowed, and its atmosphere his mmm i GETTING RICH. 301 1 the path of to teach the it is a higher >py, to share, he must pos- 1 the formulae hoarding pen- :k child back Jibles for the to be saving. ' Your child must get and ■. The world soon enough, ved quite too ; ripened fruit ourself thirty four son will too proud for 3t too humane nansion. He art is tramped less round of s. His life's Tiosphere his grown cold, till he has never for you a word of cheer or tenderness. He orders for you delicate food and expensive clothing, but he withholds the cup of cold water so sorely needed in your outworn life. Self-centered and sordid through greed of gain, he follows the bent you gave him when you had him under your hand. We must make our children understand in the outset that to be happy is not to gratify every appetite like a mere animal, nor to strut about in showy plumage like a peacock, nor to keep upon the crest of the wave of excitement, forever amused and entertained; but, rather, joy is found in doing good, conquering self, making others glad, living by the Heavenly Father's law. Children can be taught these lessons. We have seen the experiment carried out suc- cessfully. "Oh, yes," sighs an overtasked mother; "it is easy enough to toss off fine theories from a pen's point; but just step into my place once." r know "mother" is a synonym for "sacri- fice." I know there are mothers who stagger under the entire load of trainijiig the family — ^a load that is quite enough for two pairs of shoulders — while the senior partner of the firm gives himself altogether to the commissary de- partment; but my exhortation is intended .spe- ll i w^ ■n^ig^ 303 DIAMOND DL'Sr. cially for those who make eating and drinking and appearing well the chief end of man. Bet- ter a thousand times leave the trimming off the dress and put the love into the heart. When a boy is grown, he will be not a whit less a man for having worn garments minus ruffles and embroidery. He will be infinitely nobler if you spend the time carefully culturing the germs of thought and the growth of unself- ish purpose. Now is your time. We reap in Autumn what we sow in Spring. Novelists help on our foolish notions about getting rich. The old trick of having a chrys- alis page or artist burst suddenly into a grand duke or prince is worn out, but the principle holds all* the same. Hero and heroine must marry and be rich. Moral: Success equals wealth ; wealth equals happiness. Practical lesson: young man, get rich, honor- ably, if convenient, but at all events get rich. Young lady, marry a fortune; at all hazards catch a rich husband. Society also helps strengthen this false order of things. Two friends meet. One inquires how a mutual acquaintance is getting along. These are sensible men. The question must re- fer to the growth and culture of the mind that is avowedly of prime importance. They are f and drinking >f man. Bet- nming off the irt. be not a whit rments minus be infinitely fully culturing wth of unself- We reap in notions about iving a chrys- into a grand the principle heroine must iuccess equals ;et rich, honor- ents get rich, at all hazards this false order One inquires getting along, estion must re- the mind that ce. They are fx»imafi-ee,'.^aa imm CETTING RICH. 203 Christians. It must look in the direction of the man's spiritual interests. Nothing of the kind. It means simply, How much money docs he' make. In what style does he live. "Oh, he is doing splendidly." How? Working out a plan for helping others into a better life? Turning many to righteousness? Growing in God's good will? No, indeed. Little cares he for moral distinctions or benefits. "Doing splendidly," in every-day Saxon, is simply getting money and spending it upon one's self. The notions of society are mia.^matic. Un- less one carries a powerful dislnfecUint, he can but take in the poison. Only now and then one uses this precaution, so the majority take the fever of getting rich. That little adjective may mean a red flannel shirt and a string of glass beads, or it may mean a kingdom. It may stand for a big potato patch and an immeasur- able supply of whisky, or it may represent an additional empire. Some fling society's "thus far" in her face, and take to the high seas with the prospect of being launched into perdition from the rope's end. Others cheat behind counters, more cowardly, but with no less risk of final loss. Some wait for gold to drop from " dead hands; others plod on, year after year, to get rich by steady work. mtk r 204 DIAMOND DUST. Wc may flatter ourselves that we do not care for money. Possibly not, according to the aspi- rations of miserly A, epicurean B, or dashing young C ; but it will be strange if our faces are not set towards some other point which means the same thing. We are saying to ourselves, "Now, this sac- rifice, this strain of will, nerve, or muscle, and then such a luxury, such style by and by. " Here is a chaos of the odds and ends of desirable things which go to the make-up of a fortune, and which will satisfy no more when once ac- quired than do the cheap, simple purchases of to-day. Nothing can be more hopeless than the at- tempt to satiate the soul's thirst with riches or the best that they can buy. They who have most money are the most eager to increase their wealth. Some gentlemen in a public room in New York City were discussing the amount of prop- erty necessary to satisfy one completely. One man thought a quarter of a million would be enough. " No, " said another, • ' I shall not leave business till I have at least half a million." " Pooh I" said a third, "one ought to have two or three millions." Just then a money-king hurried into the e do not care g to the aspi- 3, or dashing our faces are which means low, this sac- muscle, and dby." Here of desirable of a fortune, hen once ac- purchases of than the at- ^ith riches or !y who have increase their oom in New >unt of prop- )letely. One )n would be hall not leave a million." to have two ied into the GETTING KICH. aos room— one of those who always go as if the hounds of starvation were snarling at their heels. With an apology for detaining him they asked how much he thought necessary to satisfy the desire for gain. ' ' A little tttore / " he snapped, as he rushed on. His reply emphasized the fact .that acquiring only whets the appetite to ac- quire. The acquisition of property does not se- cure happiness. Fortunately very few reach the goal toward which so many tug and strain. And the few who call themselves "successful" are the most unsuccessful of all. How seldom do you see a rich old man whose face is sweet, and calm, and restful. Most of them in seeking monetary wealth have neglected to ac- quire mental riches and spiritual affluence. See the ridges of care, the furrows of pain upon their foreheads, and the tense, sharp lines about their keen, uneasy eyes— lines of bitterness and disap- pointment. No need of prodigal sons and un- grateful daughters to plant with thorns their pil- low of death. Long as is their rent-roll and profitable as are their stocks, they themselves are '• Heart-bare, heart-hungry, very poor." Of all the calentures that lure to the grave, ' of all the ignesfaiui that dance over death mires, none is so deadly as the greed of gain. Not mtm ^tmmimm mm 906 DIAMOND DUST. alone is the body cheated out of rest and care in its treadmill, but the mind is robbed of devel- opment and the soul is wrecked eternally. The Master, who never used words carelessly, said, "How hardly shall they that have riches enter the kingdom of heaven !" We pity those who trudge ever in the service of coil, or slip on the icy stair of fortune, but how infinitely more do they deserve our commis- eration who succeed in building for themselves a gilded mausoleum, a tomb not only for the burial of the poor outworn body but of the mind and soul. " Thus did a choking wanderer in the desert cry, • O that Allah one prayer would grant before I die, That I might stand up to my knees in a cool lake, My burning tongue and parching throat in it to slake.* No lake he saw, and when they found him in the wasta A bag of gems and gold lay just before his face. And his dead hand a paper, with this writing, grasped, • Worthless was wealth, when dying for water, I gasped.' Be diadem or helmet on thy head, It must be arrow-pierced, and thou lie dead. Then every man whose mind is wisdom-stocked, Will strive to have his wealth in Heaven locked." illiiil iitiiiiifmiiiiMmmmmmm mm GIVING BY RULE. 307 St and care in bed of devel- ernally. rds carelessly, it have riches in the service fortune, but i our commis- ' themselves a for the burial the mind and :rt cry, fore I die, cool lake, : in it to slake.* lim ill the waste his face. irriiin(r, grasped, t^ater, I gasped.' lend, ■stocked, !ii locked." T^HE world is in revolt, and God's main effort ^ toward it is to bring about a surrender It is a principle of healthful reconstruction that each loyal subject shall use all his strength to bring the rest into subjection. God would con- script every thing in which there -is power and use It in the conquest of these revolted provinces If all who surrender to God would observe this obligation I doubt if the next century would dawn upon a single rebel. The trouble is, very few of us are in downright earnest* to carry out God's plans. We hire some one as economically as possible to offer eloquent prayers for us, and give us fine disquisitions upon morality; we give the pittance that IS teased out of us by some one who denies himself almost the necessaries of life that he may make us see our duty toward the neglected masses, and then we settle back in our snug pews voting ourselves quite respectable, comfort- able Christians. mm *»»ite&«i*''i((tewa«KiiM««»«i^ - ** '^A^ Sifc-Ji^ -I'.'-ii.l^JUii^ T-1 •08 DIAMOND DUST. God may collect arrears of us by force of aims. He obliged this republic, a few years since, to pay for cannon and ironclads what she would not give for school-houses, and churches. If we will not evangelize the masses we must keep them under by armed force, and we find that God's police, civilization and Christianity, missionaries and Bibles, are by far the most eco- nomical, considered simply from a financial point of view. Riots and wars force men to give by the thousand in self-defense — men from whose grip a few dollars for God's work are wrenched most difficultly — and the moneyed outlay is by far the cheapest part of their giving. Never before were there so many doors open as now to Christian effort. Red-handed war has torn open the rusty gates of sepulchral, old East- ern empires. China, Japan, India, Africa, South America, Mexico, with their swarming millions, are thirsting, dying for the truth of God. If the Christian Church, if Protestant America alone, would give and work as God wills, the world would be evangelized within the century. Christianity is based upon self-giving. Christ is God's " unspeakable gift." They who are one with him in his work must go " Toiling up new Calvaries ever, Wilh tlie cross that turns not back." aiMMH mmmm # by force of a few years ids what she nd churches, iscs we must and we find Christianity, de most eco- nancial point 1 to give by from whose re wrenched outlay is by ' doors open ided war has al, old East- Vfrica, South ing millions, jod. If the erica alone, i, the world tury. 'ing. Christ who are one k." GIVING BY RULB. 209 He who is complete in Christ gives himself for the helping of others as certainly as did Je- sus the Master, not as a propitiatory sacrifice, but as a working force. He may labor with his hands, as did Paul at Corinth ; he may write dic- tionaries and French grammars, as did John Wes- ley ; yet his one thought and purpose arc to get all with whom he has contact, and whom he can reach with any sort of influence, back to their allegiance to God. And this is the normal Chris- tian life. Any consecration less than this is un- sound, unhealthy, defective. When one has really given all to God's work it is unnecessary to argue the duty of giving money to carry on its operations. The greater in- cludes the less. There is no use in prating about a " complete consecration " if one holds his dol- lars with a stingy grip, while the Lord's work is suffering for financial help. It is a slender piety that lays by its wealth in diamonds and laces, elegant houses, handsome grounds, broad acres, bonds and mortgages while the work of the world's evangelization is held back every-where for lack of money ; labor- ers waiting to be sent to the whitened fields, those already at work recalled, schools closed] ' and men and women perishing in black ignorance by the thousand. ^mm 9IO DIAMOND DUST. A few Christians give liberally. A smaller number give methodically. Before the Church meets fully its obligation in this regard every one who makes a public profession of faith in Christ must take upon himself a pledge to give by rule, and to the extent of his ability. Nothing is well done that is not done by system — according to law. This holds in the simplest mechanical work. You can not make so much as a proper hoe handle without bring- ing it into right lines by the laws of mechanics. We see this principle wrought out in mone- tary affairs. Two men start in business at the same time. One has a good capital and a fine opening for trade. He invests carelessly, deals recklessly, receives large return for some arti- cles, loses heavily on others, and spends money freely, because he believes that his profits will warrant generous living. He wakes up some gloomy morning to find that his gay crafl has been steadily a-leak, and his fine fortune is a wreck. The other starts with a sjnall capital, works it carefully, and by rule. He knows each Sat- urday night his approximate assets and liabili- ties, and guages his outlays by the figures in his ledger. After a few patient, plodding years he finds himself with a competence. mMmmuim:im HliKWHWifMWIiil'HII GIVING BY RULE. %tx y. A smaller ; the Church jard every one faith in Christ ',e to give by ty. not done by holds in the can not make without bking- of mechanics. : out in mone- tusiness at the lital and a fine arelessly, deals for some arti- spends money his profits will akes up some I gay craft has le fortune is a capital, works nows each Sat- sets and liabili- le figures in his tdding years he This need of living by rule is manifest, also, in hygiene. Suppose a child is fed once an hour or once in twenty-four, just as he can clamor somebody into attention, how would he thrive? Suppose a man exercises one day till he drops from exhaustion, and lies motionless for a week, sleeps forty-eight hours, and then keeps awake till nature shuts his eyes by force, fasts a week and surfeits a fortnight, what do you im- agine would be his physical condition? Christianity has added fifteen years to the aver- age of human life, and probably in no one hy- gienic point has it had the advantage more cer- tainly than in its eating, sleeping, and working by rule. In all these matters its practice and methods are directly opposite to those of the savages. Suppose education were carried on in a des- ultory fashion— a nibble of Greek, a browse of Latin or German as the inclination might be, mathematics or natural sciences to the taste, fact or fiction according to preference — what sort of scholars would we have with such a curriculum? If I were sent outside of the Church for the raw material out of which a strong Christian was to be made, I should take the one who had been trained to live his physical and mental life by rule. He would have h»s strength well in ai3 DIAMOND DOST. hand, his energies under rein, where they could be available. The Church should have all her force, talent, culture, money, general influence, where she could lay her hand upon them and make the very most of each item ; and this can never be till .each individual member learns to give as well as live by rule. The very etymon of the word religion from the Latin religare, to bind anew, indicates the system to which its adherents are to be held. Of all people Methodists are most at fault if they fail to work by rule. Some imagine that the grand religious awakening of the eighteenth century was a general riot of glorious irregular- ities. They could not be more mistaken. That freshet of Gospel truth that overflowed the mas- sive, ivy-draped walls of the old Anglican church, and leaped John Calvin's iron barriers, obeyed law as certainly as do the planets in their orbits. They who wrought most wondrously in that mighty current were people who most positively slept and rose, talked and prayed, preached and wrote, lived and gave by rule. Look at Wesley's prodigious methods. We think it wonderful for a machinist to hold an entire manufactory in his head— every wheel re- volving, every hammer beating, every ounc? of ■a w wiw GIVING BY RULE. *n e they could force, talent, , where she id make the can never be 5 to give as religion from indicates the 3 be held, ost at fault if imagine that lie eighteenth ous irregular- itaken. That >wed the mas- glican church, rriers, obeyed n their orbits, ously in that lost positively preached and nethods. We St to hold an very wheel re- very ouncf of power weighed and adjusted in his tough, tire- less brain. In Wesley's thought was the com- plex mechanism of bands, classes, societies, con- ferences, a membership of all castes, from Kingswood to the court; a ministry of all orders, lay, clerical, and episcopal. Think you his Her- culean labors could have been wrought without the closest system? We have a record of his beneficence. When his income was thirty pounds a year he lived on twenty-eight, and gave two. When it was sixty, he lived on twenty-eight and gave thirty-two. When it amounted to a hundred and twenty, he kept himself to the frugal twenty-eight and gave ninety-two. It is estimated that, from the pro- ceeds of his publications and other sources of income, he gave in all over one hundred and fifty thousand dollars. His last entry in his be- nevolence account reads thus: "For upwards of eighty-six years I have kept my accounts ex- actly. I will not attempt it any longer, being satisfied with the continual conviction that I save all I can, and give all I can, that is, all I have." God's idea of a ritual was given in minutia to the Jews. Their one temple was built under his direction, and it was a marvel of beauty from base to cap-stone. Its service was most expen- HMMMa „4 DIAMOND DUST. sive. In the very outset one twelfth of the peo- ple were set apart for teachers and priests. The other eleven-twelfths were to support them, re- lieving them from the necessity of laboring for their daily bread. It was distinctly specified that every Jew should give one-fifth of his in- come to the service of education and religion. We believe every Christian ought to give at least onetenth of his income to the work of God ; one-half as much as the benevolence of the old dispensation. This plan of giving a tenth to the Lord would be economical. Nine-tenths of our finan- cial troubles grow out of a slipshod keeping of accounts. The large percentage of business ven- tures that result in failure is probably owing to the fact that many go a little beyond their abil- ity, hoping that by some turn in the wheel they can meet their obligations and come through safe. A financial gale strikes the sea. The waves dash higher than they expected and the - outcome is wreck and loss. If they had kept their accounts so that they could know at any hour just the condition of their finance, they could have prepared for the storm in time. These careless business people never can tell exactly how they stand. They never know the precise appreciation or depreciation, of a piece of •yii MM w GIVING BY RULE. "5 ti of the peo- priests. The ort them, re- laboring for :tly specified fth of his in- »d religion, ht to give at the work of inevolence of to the Lord of our finan- d keeping of ' business ven- ibly owing to )nd their abil- he wheel they :ome through he sea. The ected and the they had kept know at any finance, they in time, never can tell sver know the \q{ a piece of their property. They hope it is about so much, and they are apt to look at their belongings as people do when they eat cherries with magnify- ing glasses on so as to make them seem large. Facts are relentless, however, and the bank- ruptcy that might have been spared if a plain, simple, sure reckoning had been taken, comes on apace. Women are accused of ruining their hus- bands by their extravagance, when, as the case often stands, it was the man's careless method with his accounts, making himself and his wife think themselves worth much more than they really were, that did the mischief. If one promises God one-tenth of his income he can not be honest unless he knows all his re- ceipts and expenditures that he may get at the exact amount due his benevolence account. One ought in self-defense to give at least one- tenth of Lis income. Covetousness is a cardinal sin. One-twelfth of Christ's body-guard fell through covetousness. Christ was so poor he had not where to lay his head. The expenses of his itinerant tours were paid by women who risked all to follow him. He bad to work a mir- acle to get a piece of coin for tribute money. Certainly the disciple of such a poverty-stricken ' teacher was in far less danger from love of gain than we who have houses and lands, stocks and tmmmim HHH ■MM 9l6 DIAMOND DUST. bonds. It behooves us to walk carefully where an apostle fell. Very few escape an attack of covetousness. Many who are liberal while they are poor, dis- cover a tliirst for gain as soon as they begin to acquire. In cholera times we use disinfectants. Systematic giving is God's guarantee against the miasmatic taint of avarice. Others as good as we have grown avaricious. Ten chances to one we will fall into the same snare unless we take spe- cial means for its prevention. Those who have done the most for God's work have been among the roost self-denying and systematic givers. Mary Fletcher, though a woman of fine tastes and culture, lived upon twenty-five dollars a year and gave the rest of her income. Selina, Countess of Huntingdon, gave up her liveried servants and expensive equipages, selling even her jewels, and living in the simplest style that she might have the means to buy and build chapels for the poor, and to turn theaters into places of worship. Dr. Coke gave to God's work two fortunes. Near the close of his life he arose in the British Conference and asked for the establishment of a mission in India. He was told there were neither men nor means for the work. He replied, "I ii. -i GIVING BY RULE, atj refuUy where covetousness. are poor, dis- they begin to disinfectants, ee against the as good as we :es to one we ; we take spe- ost for God's it self-denying itcher, though •e, lived upon /c the rest of 1, gave up her lipages, selling simplest style buy and build I theaters into two fortunes. in the British blishment of a re wwe neither le replied, "I have yet a small estate of one thousand pounds. I give that and myself with it to go to India. If you refuse my offer you will break my heart." I have read of an English Methodist who looks for divine direction in his business and gives by the Pauline rule, "as God prospers him." A jour- neyman- mechanic, he set up a small business on borrowed capital. Eight years after he pledged to give fifty guineas a day as his missionary sub- scription. Eliza Garrett, of Chicago, to whose benevolence many of the Methodist ministers of the North-west are indebted for their theologies 1 education, the foundress of Garrett Biblical Insti tute, gave all her property for that work, reser/- ing for herself only two hundred dollars a year. Giving by rule has Bible sanction. Abraham gave one-tenth, and with God's blessing he be- came a man of princely fortune. Jacob went out with his staff, a poor man. At Bethel he vowed io the Lord, "Of all that thou Shalt give me I will surely give the tenth unto thee." In twenty years he came back rich. St. Paul enjoins upon the Churches a weekly benefaction. " Upon the first day of the week let every one of you lay by him in store as God hath prospered him. " In no part of the work did John Wesley show more skill in handling his forces than in his class mmm mm kowh ai8 DIAMOND DUST. system. Each leader was to have the care of about twelve persons, not only looking after their spiritual needs as a" sub-pastor, but receiving their contributions for the support of the Gospel and the poor. Every one who joined the Wesleyan Societies must give each week a due proportion of his income for the Lord's work. Wherever his plan was followed there was plenty of money for the needs of the Church. In these times of financial pressure when so many of cyr benevolent enterprises are suffering heavy loss from the lack of means to push their interests, it would be well for us to go back to first principles in our finance. Let every child who comes into the Church as a probationer be taught that at least a penny a week must be given for the support of God's work. Let this be given regularly as an educator in beneficence. Let others give according to their means week after week, and the vexed questions of rented pews, begging speeches at dedications, agents, fairs and festivals would be happily settled to the infinite relief of many excellent people. The Roman Catholics are ready enough to take up these plans and make them of the ut- most avail. They have their Society for Propa- gandism, each member of which gives one cent a week. One collects from ten and forwards the ^^BBiMte£^ GIVING BY RULE. ■19 the care of ig after their ut receiving r the Gospel joined the week a due ^ord's work. e was plenty •ch. ure when so are suffering to push their > go back to t every child robationer be eek must be rk. Let this J beneficence. means week )ns of rented lions, agents, settled to the aple. dy enough to em of the ut- ety for Propa- ^ves one cent d forwards the dimes to another who sends the dollars to another, each collector gathering and forwarding from ten beneath him, till by the time it reaches the cardinal at Lyons it amounts to hundreds of thousands for pushing forward the plans of the Romish Church. Papists never lack money. If a Protestant institution is to be sold for debt, Catholics have the money ready for its purchase, and that money is not from the bount>- of the rich but from the littles given by the poor. It is high time for Protestants to begin to u,se the same wisdom in their financial plans. When the Woman's Foreign Missionary Society was organized, many thought it a mistake that its constitution should forbid the taking of general collections. "So much interest in your meeting, ladies, such a tide of enthusiasm, surely if you would pass the baskets you would get hundreds of dollars." "Perhaps so, sir; but what about next year, when our fine talkers would not be here to stir the people ? Better, far better as we believe, the plan of getting the women of the Church to lay aside, always religiously, the little two cents a week. The income will be larger and surer. And then as an educator of the peo-' pie this society does more by inducing ten women to give a dollar a year, with the thought vummmm \i a\ ■1 aao DIAMOND DUST. and prayer that usually accompany such gifts, than by persuading one to give a hundred dollars. " A thousand pities that all our benevolences might not be wrought by this same rule; each by a method of its own, but all upon the prin- ciple of gathering the littles steadily and con- stantly from the many. But one says: "I am very poor. One-tenth of my income will be quit i too insignificant to offer to the Lord." Let ua »?ot forget the widow of whom Christ said, "She hath cast in more than they all." Let us be humble enough to give the little, and, though we can ill afford to spare it, let us trust as did the Gentile woman when required to take an extra boarder at the risk of starving her- self and her vHildren. God saw to it that her cruse of oil and barrel of meal did not fail. "But I am in debt." People have been known to keep up a lightning-rod of that sort to con- duct off flashing appeals. I believe that if one would use the nine-tenths of his income, giving the other tenth to the Lord's work, he would get out of debt soonsr than if he used upon himself the whole. We measure our benevolence by that of others in the Church, when the fact is, the Church 'does not begin to give as she ought. f GIVING BY RULE. aai y such gifts, ired dollars." benevolences le rule; each )on the prin- lily and con- One-tenth significant to et the widow cast in more ive the little, tare it, let us n required to starving her- it that her did not fail. been known : sort to con- re that if one icome, giving irk, he would le used upon If she did, Christian enterprises would not be forever on the pauper list. Perhaps we arc among the culpable. Let us face the facts In time, lest in the judgment the blood of the per- ishing be found upon us, lest our names be upon the roll of wrath. Let us remember that our money, as an agent of good, belongs to our Master. Let us see to it that each dollar is spent under his eye VVe may have his "Well done" on each business transaction, little and large. When they who have been won to him out of every kindred and tribe and people come up before him with joy, there may be those whom even our indirect efforts have helped on the way. Then will his word, sweeter than heaven's most glorious sym- phonies, sound through our souls. "Inasmuch as ye did it to one of the least of these my brethren, ye did it unto me." by that of fact is, the IS she ought. iSMUK Hum DIAMOND DUST. IN the evenin«T twilight of each life there stand two grim, beckoning skeletons — age and death. We may laugh and shout in the merry to-day. We may dance and sing as did the condemned of the Conciergerie with the dead carts and coffins clattering up to the gate, and to-morrow — the guillotine I Yet we can not shut oat the ghastly inevitable. There they stand — those grisly skeletons, age and death. We can escape the one only by the early coming of the other, from whom our every instinct draws back. Age is as unsightly and probable as death is fearful and sure. The physical havoc wrought by age is most unlovely and pitiful. If only the earthly house of this tabernacle could be taken down in a more dignified and agreeable manner, as prob- ably it was intended at the outset ! See that old pair sitting in the chimney-cor- ner. Once she was bright and beautiful; he handsome and brave. Now, they are wrinkled m»k mmm f re there stand \3 — age and in the merry r as did the th the dead :he gate, and : can not shut they stand — ith. We can oming of the t draws back. le as death is / age is most earthly house n down in a mer, as prob- i chimney-cor- beautiful ; he are wrinkled S i ii w ai GROlVrnG OLD. •0| and bent and palsied. Her eyes were full of the passion and power of womanliness; his as keen as an eagle's glance. Now, the eyes of both are sunken and dim, seeing only blurs and blotches where once they traced beauty. Their hair, once heavy and dark, is coarse and gray, and tucked under uncouth skullcaps. Their teeth ached themselves away long since. Their limbs, that used to trip so nimbly and dance so gayly, have lost their sprightliness and strength. They can only totter and cramp and suffer rheu- matic torture. Their hands have forgotten their cunning, ami fumble as clumsily as do those of a twelvemonth's babe. Their voices have lost their melody and power; the poor old bodies whine out their ailments, and on sunny days croon and drawl about the dead past. Ah me I Is this skeleton reaching his arms for every one of 1' > But idder far than this physical decay is the failure of the mental powers. Once this man and woman were among the ilite. Now, they set ic youngsters a-titter with their old-fashioned wl^ ms and notions. ' ' Mother 's breaking fast, " drawls the old man, nodding across at his wife. "A pity, too! She used to be wonderful smart, quite a blue stocking, as they used to say in my early days. Ah well, we've had our time." aCMK j224 DIAMOND DUST. i!t If One would care less for the tumbling down of the old tent, if the royal mind could stand un- harmed in the wreck. The stout strokes of the good right arm, the deftness of the fingers, the strength and glory of the prime, could be given up, if the thought could yet be sent forth among men, a felt force. But to have book and pen fall from the palsied hand, and all the new de- velopments of science and literature drift by un- noted, till one is as little en rapport with contem- porary men and events as would be a resurrected Roundhead, thought and fancy cramped down to a litde round of insignificant things, while the grand unfoldings of the age are as little compre- hended as are the diplomacies of Thibet — who can contemplate such probabilities without a temptation to suicide? Our old people in the corner remember when the business of the house and the estate were ai! wrought out in their brain. Now, their opin- ions are of little more weight than the guesses of the nimble-tongued ten-years-old. "Times are changed, father; they don't do things that way nowadays." "Why, mother, you are too old-fashioned for any thing. " Once that man's ipse dixit was authoritative in town affairs. Now, he urges a question that seems to him vital. Answer: "Why, father. GROWING OLD. 925 ig down of d stand un- •okes of the fingers, the Id be given forth among ok and pen the new de- drift by un- vith contem- 1 resurrected ped down to s, while the ittle compre- rhibet — who > without a lember when estate were AT, their opin- 1 the guesses >ld. ' ' Times 5 things that you are too authoritative question that Why, father, that was settled years and years ago. Don't know as you can understand it, but it "s all right. We got through with that the Winter before Ben- nie died. Don't you remember?" Yes, there are marble mile-stones that gleam, white and cold, like ghosts, along the misty, backward way; he can not lose sight of them; but all the rest seems like a fog-enshrouded sea. Once his incisive thinking cut dow.. through questions that concerned state interests; and his voice told on the destinies of the people. Now, he is cast aside, a child without the future of childhood, lacking all its sweetness and promise. With his worn-out body and effete mind, he is waiting in helplessness for the rickety, creaking machinery to stand still, and free him and his friends from the burden of his being. And yet the picture has darker, sadder shades. Those people were once co-workers with the Lord Jesus Christ. Not only did they help nobly in reformatory movements, but they led many and many a soul to the Savior. Now, their religious life is as completely enfeebled as tlieir mental vigor. Their voices used to liave weight in the councils of the Church. The pastor leaned upon ' them for sympathy and advice. Now, the Church moves on just as it would if they were in the 'S IBKtftfai wWllHltoi" aa6 DIAMOND DUST. li grave. It works, legislates, extends, and they are unable even to comprehend its growth— in danger of reading it all backward. Well for them if they are not left to croak about the de- generacy of modern Christians. They can not pray and praise as they used to do. Things must have gone wrong some way. People have got out of the old paths. "When we were young you could tell a Christian woman by her bonnet as far as you could see her, and it would have done your heart good to hear how long and eloquent-like the men could hold forth in a meeting. But there were Christians in the Church in our young days." Oh, the pity of it! To grow old! How many times, if we had dared, would we have prayed to die even before reaching "tiie half- way house" rather than come down to this whining, driveling, pushed-aside old life! Is physical, mental, and moral decay inevit- .able ? Is there no fountain of youth whose waters can give us immortal vigor? Much of the decay of old age is the result of neglect, and, therefore, it may be avoided. In attempting to demonstrate this, perhaps, as in some people's theology, the wish is the parent of the argument, and the logic is not more robust than a wish, yet, as we all need comfort on this nds, and they ts growth — in rd. Well for about the de- They can not ) do. Things People have 'hen we were in woman by ee her, and it i to hear how )uld hold forth iristians in the )w old! How irould we have ling "the half- down to this )ld lifel i\ decay inevit- th whose waters ge is the result ay be avoided, his, perhaps, as sh is the parent not more robust comfort on this GROWING OLD. 337 score, it may be worth while to make the effort to prove the proposition. Lawlessness and laziness are the two prime enemies of human strength and endurance. Unreasoning creatures live by law. The law of their life, though originally as benign as divine love could devise, has been infracted by man's sra, and carries the curse-mark of his transgres- sion. Therefore they die. Their life moves in a circle. They come into existence, grow, ma- ture, decline, and are crowded out of being by the pressure of onnroming successions. Except where the penalty of the curse comes in with fe- rocity and violence, these changes of the mode of being are, as far as we know, gentle, painless, and not unsightly. Who ever heard of a super- annuated buffalo, or a chimney corner robin ? The ability to apprehend and obey law is the kingliness of humanity. It is the base of re sponsible action. It is that which recommended us to the redemptive notice of the Son of God. With our consent he will ultimately lift from us the curse. Even now he will help us mitigate the effects of that curse, but it must be accord- ing to law. Our perverse disposition to resist, and break law is at the bottom of much of the misery that comes upon us when we grow old. The taint of lawlessness is in our blood. It F aaS DIAMOND DUST. comes to us straight from the forfeited paradise. It shows itself very early. Children hate re- straint. Tell one of those " toddlin' wee things " not to touch a. certain article, and he will not rest till his tiny fingers have pushed their way through your prohibition. The limitation suggests and stimulates the very mischief you would have him avoid. "What made you tell us not to put beans up our noses?" whined a little fellow, when his mother appeared on the scene of misde- meanor and suffering. "We wouldn't have ' thought of it if you hadn't 'a ' told us not, to." In our childhood we could hop and skip all day, taking ten thousand useless steps, but it had to be at our own sweet will. If we were set at something that we felt obliged to do, our strength gave out immediately. You can " break " a colt in a month, but it takes ten years to break a boy to steady, reliable, working ways. In mental effort also. Children's minds are uncomfortably busy, prying into every thing ex- cept their grammar and arithmetic. Pictures and prizes must be held before them perpetually, penalties and disgrace shaken over their heads, to coax or drive them into the habit of doing a required amount of work in a given time. Many students make it the mam tasl< of their school life to resist, and wheedle, and outwit the riiiiiiiiiiiiWiiniiTTiiiiii i GROWING OLD. 329 ted paradise, lien hate re- ' wee things " ; will not rest way through suggests and >uld have him s not to put : fellow, when ne of misde- ould n't have ' Id us not, to." ) and skip all eps, but it had ire were set at >, our strength break " a colt :o break a boy :n's minds are ;very thing ex- ;tic. Pictures m perpetually, ;r their heads, bit of doing a en time, in tasl< of their and outwit the teacher. He is their natural enemy. A harm- less person, possibly, probably an amiable gen- tleman when they meet him in society, yet he represents the restraint of law, and, as such, must be beaten out of his puroose. When they get the condi> i of their life into their own hands, it is not unusual for them to throw the rein upon the neck of the lawless im- pulse. They do not venture to raise their hand against their neighbor's life for fear of the law of the land, and of the divine law that has been the one tireless schoolmaster that would not be shaken off; but may they not do as they will in regard to their own personal life? Their lawlessness relieves them of mental discipline, and they do no more brain work than they are driven to perform by necessity, or it permits them to in- dulge as they will their appetites, passions, an*- bitions. They destroy their digestion by crowd- ing their stomachs to overwork ujpon fiery, greasy masses, villainous compounds that tickle a depraved palate, and that fill the blood with scrofula and fevers. They burn out their nerves and brain with the fumes of tobacco and alcohol. If all this takes place among men who belong ' to Churches and claim to be governed by the Ten Commandments, what havoc of the life is made fT*" 1 fljo DIAMOND DUST. by those who have thrown off the restraints of the more special and personal of those injunc- tions! Let us take an example of the habit of neg- lecting and one of observing physical and men- tal law — Byron and Bryant. The meteoric Byron indulged the worst passions. Bryant held him- self to the simplest appetites and the purest per- sonal life. Dissoluteness burned out the fuel meant to keep Byron's brilliant brain in force for years of glowing thought. Bryant lived by law, as do the beautiful, natural things about which he wrote so delightfully. He took ample sleep, and was up with the birds in the morning. His bill of fare was almost as simple as theirs — he breakfasted usually on oatmeal mush and milk. Byron was in the " sere and yellow leaf" when he was only a little over thirty. Bryant's age more than outmeasured two such rocket- flashes as Byron's erratic years. Seventy found him but little less agile in walking, climbing, leaping, indeifed as young as at forty, except the few outer frost touches. Like Moses, he macched to his death with strength unabated. The di^usting taint of physical and mental lawlessness and consequent decay renders odious and dangerous Byron's magnificent imagery. Bryant's poetry is as sweet and fresh and ^ restraints of those injunc- habit of neg- ical and men- ctecric Byron mt held him- lie purest per- out the fuel in in force for lived by law, I about which ample sleep, lorning. His e as theirs — al mush and 1 yellow leaf" rty. Bryant's such rocket- jeventy found ng, climbing, y, except the :s, he macched d. al and mental renders odious :ent imagery, (id fresh and GHOIVING OLD. aji healthful as the breath of balm, and as restful as a mother's evening hymn. Who would have his life like Byron's, flash- ing up luridly, and settling into murky night un- der the gloom of the disapproval of a more ear- nest time? How much better that it be like Bryant's, a strong, sure, steady light, ending like an Autumn day in calm glory, its rays slanting back over rich fruitage, and striking forward to a glorious dawn in the Morning Land ! Americans are in special danger of physical and mental degeneracy from fast living and over- work. Holmes says: "The human body is a furnace which keeps in blast threescore years and ten, more or less. It burns about three hun- dred pounds of carbon a year, besides other fuel, when in fair working order." We Americans are apt, as he says of pugilists, "to keep the vital fires burning with the blower up, " Strong, mixed blood bubbles in our veins, some of it the best of the Old Worid's life, driven hither because dangerous under rotten tyrannies. Below us heave the crowding masses. Before us stretch measureless possibilities. -Forces pusK. Ambitions beckon, and on we go, with white lines about our mouths, and black furrows be-- tween our brows. We overwork and overdrive, and like the wicked, we do not live out half our M iimuMwtm^'* m 333 DFAMOND DUST. days. We tire out and drop off to sleep under the sod coverlet before we have fairly reached our best working strength. Albeit we would not exchange our civiliza- tion for that of the Norsemen, whose thick blood creeps through leathern veins, whose heavy jaws crunch the oaten cake, while their neutral-tinted faces are lighted dully with bovine comfort. No ; they of the coming better time will feel to the full the propelling energy of this New World life ; but they will live so by law, Uiat they will not sin mortally against their physical being, and stretch themselves upon a bier just when they ought to be in the prime of vigor, their mental products inane sensualisms, when they ought to be full of power for the right. The mind and spirit are princes. The body is a castle in which they stay threescore years or so. Their condition is often vitally affected by the good or ill repair of their habitation. In the earlier time the magnificence of the man- sion eclipsed the dignity of the indwelling mag- nates. So now, often the greater care is given to olishing and strengthening the outer being. But the age of brawn is passing away, and the best thought is busy in bettering the spirit life. As usual, there is danger of swinging to the op- posite extreme. Many good people underrate CROWING OLD. •» sleep under lirly reached our civiliza- ; thick blood ! heavy jaws leutral-tinted ne comfort. ! will feel to s New World lat they will il being, and t when they their mental ley ought to . The body :ore years or r affected by bitation. In of the man- welling mag- care is given outer being, ivay, and the he spirit life, fig to the op- >le underrate the influence of body upon soul, and serious harm comes of the blunder. Bodies have rights that souls are bound to respect. They have ways of their own that are specially potent to avenge any infringement of right. If only a little finger is wronged, there may be an insurrection of pain that will set the whole system in a tumult, and throw even the kingly brain out of balance. The years become relentless Eumenides to those who are reckless of physical law, stretch- ing them upon the rack of acute suffering or the gridiron of slow torture. Witness the miser- able old age of the dyspeptic and debauchee. Many push their laudable purpose to secure a competency to such an excess that they de- stroy their ability to enjoy what they acquire. The farmer thinks to wrest riches from the stingy soil by his own good right arm. He braves storm and weariness, he drives <>n through heat and cold, and finds himself at fifty a bent, stiffened, old man, with a cramped brain, a hun- gry soul, and, after all, only a few restless, un- satisfactory dollars. The mechanic plays the same part with a slight change of scener>'. The business man"^ neglects all powers of body and mind except those that are necessary to the driving of a good SB ii »34 DIAMOND DVST. bargain. When he grows old, whether he "fails" or "retires," he finds himself worn out and empty hearted, his faculty for love and wor- ship dead almost beyond hope of resurrection. The old Greeks took the very best care of their bodies. We see this illustrated in the Olympic games; the victor in running or wrest- ling ws*; loaded with honor. When he returned to his city he was not permitted to enter through the gates, but a breach was made in the wall near his house, as if they would say, "The city that has such sons to guard her has no need of walls." The result was the finest physical cul- ture, and consequent endurance. With them the age for military ser\'ice was, from twenty to sixty, and not, as with us, reaching only to forty-five. We are as certainly culpable if we neglect to take care of our bodies as we are if we injure them by our excesses. Many serve their bodies as rented houses are used. The roof leaks, the plaster begins to fall, the weather draws out the nails, and the clap- boards spring off. No matter. We will not have to stay here long. Yes; but we had better be comfortable while we do stay, and not lose time and strength taking care of our coughs and rheumatisms. Science, like religion, is growing wise and ii ^mmm GROWING OLD. •35 whether he If worn out ve and wor- esurrection. •est care of tted in the ng or wreat- he returned Iter through he wall near he city that no need of physical cul- ith them the nty to sixty, to forty-five, ire neglect to if we injure d houses are egins to fall, nd the clap- will not have ad better be not lose time coughs and ng wise and practical. Instead of hiding away in midnight cells, straining every nerve to discover the un- discoverable, it has come into our homes and our schools, and is teaching us how to take care of our hair and teeth, our eyesight and digestion. Hygiene miracles are wrought nowadays. Take dentistry, for instance. Years ago if the nerve of a tooth was injured, it was treated as some deal with refractory children. There was no inquiring into the cause of the trouble, no at- tempt at palliation or compromise. There was nothing for it, if it continued rebellious, after a few conciliatory pats and strokes, but to be ex- terminated, root and branch, though its loss could never be supplied. Can we ever forget how, in our young days, the weeks and months were one protracted de- spair from toothache torture? Wedged in be- tween the alternatives of the dentist's horrid steel and the prolonged agony of having those throbbing molars and incisors wear themselves out, one could almost have risked a Rip Van Winkle sleep, if he were sure of awaking tooth- less. We have learned of late, however, that a little daily care of the teeth and an early appli-- cation of the dentist's skill will keep them in good condition for an indefinite period. ajft DIAMOND DUST. I :, i! "Oh, but it is too much trouble. I have not time to bother with my teeth more than is abso- lutely necessary to cleanliness." Ah, that is a mischievous and expensive carelessness that you can ill-aflTord. You may save a few minutes by your neglect of the simple preventive, and, by and by, you may spend months upon the hot spit of agony, lose any amount of nervous vigor, and pay a good round bill for repairs. A few years ago the papers told us how John Quincy Adams restored his eyesight by a little daily pressure upon his eyeballs. The old people looked at one another over their glasses and exclaimed, "Wonderful ! How nice it would be to see once more without spectacles I" But I know of only one old lady who tried it perse- veringly enough to restore her sight. J. G. Holland tells us of an old gentleman, Dr. Scott, of Buffalo, who, when his eyesight began to fail, set himself about what he termed "ocu- lar gymnastics." With proper intervals of rest, he exercised his eyes in making minute letters. At length he became able to read the newspa- pers without glasses; "and, at the age of seventy- one, he wrote upon an enameled card with » style on a space exactly equal to that of one' side of a three-cent piece, the Lord's Prayer, the . Apostles* Creed, the parable of the Ten Virgins, "•^^ HiPM I have not han is abso« h, that is a :ss that you minutes by ve, and, by lon the hot rvous vigor, I. aid us how ^esight by a s. The old their glasses lice it would iclesi" But led it perse- itleman, Dr. •sight began rmcd "ocu- /als of rest, nute letters, the newspa- e of seventy- card wilh » that of one I Prayer, the Ten Virgins, GROWING OLD. •S? he parable of the Rich Man and Lazarus, the Beatitudes, the fifteenth Psalm, the one hundred and twentieth Psalm, the one himdred and thirty-third Psalm, the one hundred and tliirty- first Psalm, and the figures i860. Plvery letter and every punctuation mark was written exqui.s- itely," "showing," as Dr. Holmes says of him, "that his eyes must be a pair of microscopes." Much of the decay of old age comes from in- activity. Sometimes when a man finds that he has a competence, his ambition begins to lag, and he turns his business over to his sons. The relaxation of effort would have been disastrous at twenty-five— it is fatal at sixty. Unusual powers can not fail to lose their vigor. The "childishness" of age is not inevitable; it may be prevented by mental hygiene. There is a close analogy between the laws of matter and those that govern mind. Neglect means decay. Inaction is paralysis. We have seen pictures of East Indian fakirs who had moved only one arm for a dozen years or more. That arm retained its strength, while the other limbs were no more under volitive control than if they had been made of wood. Most people treat the intellect in a similar fashion. They choose a bus- iness or profession, and throw all their mental force into the one faculty that is necessary to its ajS DIAMOND DUST. successful management. The other faculties lie inactive till they become as useless as the limbs of the fakir. After a few years the need of using that one faculty ceases to crowd to activity. Then it falls into disuse and paralysis with the rest. The verdict is, "The old man has lost his mind." As Lowell says of a man minus his manhood, "A corpse crawls round unburied." An accident or severe illness may injure the physical or mental constitution, and break up the ordinary or normal action of one's powers, yet usually we may work and be strong as long as we will. Henceforth let us never say, "my memory is failing." Let us speak the plain truth: "Be- cause I am no^ driven to use my memory as in my schooldays I am neglecting it, and it is grow- ing weak in consequence." A simple mnemonic exercise, the committing to memory of one text of Scripture a day, and the obliging of the mind to go over the whole of the chapter or book upon occasion will hold this faculty in vigor. If the memorizing of three hundred and thirteen dates, suggesting as many important points of history, one for each week-day of the year, v. ere begun upon New Y.ar's with a review once a week or once a month, a good knowledge of past events might be gained, and the memory would be held w- GROWING OLD. «39 ■ faculties lie ) the limbs of of using that ity. Then it le rest. The smind." As anhood, ' ' A ay injure the break up the i powers, yet ig as long as ' my memory truth: "Be- memory as in ,nd it is grow- )le mnemonic y of one text f of the mind or book upon /igor. If the hirteen dates, ts of history, , v.ere begun ice a week or ■A past events nrould be held in strength by the discipline. This will be found to be an excellent exercise in a family, a thou- sand times better table-talk than the ordinary chitchat. The terminology of -any branch of natural science would make as good mnemonic gymnas- tics, helping the young people to a sure knowl- edge of what they certainly need to know, and keeping the older folk from degeneracy on ac- count of the disuse of memory. But one says, " I am so full of work and care I can not find time for mental discipline." We take time to eat because we can not live and keep our strength for work without food. If we must starve a part of our being, let it not be the no- bier, the better, the immortal. Where there's a will there's a way. Elihu Burritt mastered languages, science, literature, while supporting his family by working at his anvil. Let the successful business man decide whether it will pay for a few paltry dollars more than his neighbor has the charge of, or a trifle better furnished house, or more elegant style of living, to cramp and dwarf his mind till he knows nothing but loss and gain and prices current. Let the lady who never has time for study and thought weigh the matter fairly, and decide . (■ ■^P .aiSaifS? ■'m*''rm*ir'^wpm-wm^:^m. ■:-'.' l! 240 DIAMOND DUST. whether it will not be better for her to have a few pieces less of the twists and tangles of bright worsteds, a little plainer house-gear and simpler adornments for her person, and secure in- stead that sure, quiet strength of soul that will enable her to ward off the attacks of old age by and by. Work or perish is the absolute law. When one begins to say, ' ' I can not learn that, I am too old," his doom is sealed. Henceforth the chimney-corner! They who will work can keep their place in the ranks of workers in spite of of Time. Humboldt wrote his "Kosmos" at fourscore. Isocrates finished one of his great works at ninety-seven. Theophrastus wrote his- keen and sprightly "Characters" when a centenarian. Gorgias lived to the age of one hundred and seven, and died with the significant expression upon his lips, "Sleep is now beginning to lay me in the hands of his brother," Death came to Mary Somei-ville when she was ni^iety-two, and found her busy upon her abstruse and difH- fult astronomical mathematics — working her problems only a few hours before she fell asleep. But the greatest, the saddest mistake is to imagine that the years must dull our devotional fervor, cripple our spiritual powers, and destroy 'wm ler to have a i tangles of »use-gear and md secure in- >oul that will s of old age law. When n that, I am inceforth the srk can keep i in spite of at fourscore, at works at his* keen and centenarian, hundred and »t expression nning to lay Death came 5 n»':ety-two, use and diffi- working her le fell asleep, nistake is to ur devotional and destroy MJ JWW"^— F CROWING OLD. 241 our usefulness. It is a trick of Satan to crowd out of the ranks those who have the best equip- ment for service — a ripe, full Christian ex- perience. God has said, "I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee." Does not that include the whole of probation? "My grace is sufficient for thee, for my strength is made perfect in weakness." Does not that cover all our infirmities? "Lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world." Does not his presence insure constant development and growing usefulness? I remember a beautiful woman who could hardly have been lovelier in any of her life than in the last years, when she was over ninety. She entertained us at the piano with music that she composed sixty years before. She was fully in sympathy with all the aggressive work of good people, and kept pace in her prayers and faith with each movement. "I can't go to your missionary meeting to-night," she said in her sweet, simple way, as we were starting to our anniversary," but I will try and help a little here at home." "I knew you'd have a good meeting," she said, when we returned, her face aglow with the glory of the world beyond. "My heart was so warm when I talked to the Master about your 16 n latm DIAMOND DUST. work." Who can tell which rendered the most helpful service that night, we at the church, or she in her room "talking to the Master?" As sunset hours are usually the most glorious of the day, so the last years ought to be, of all, most replete with beauty and excellence, rich with the ingatherings of time and the fore- shadowings of the blessedness that is soon to be revealed. "The hoary head is a crown of glory if it be found in the way of righteousness." For what a glorious, eternal garnering may one hope who has spent a long life in the serv- ice of the Master. "^^ :red the most le church, or aster?" most glorious ht to be, of i excellence, and the fore- is soon to be rown of glory )usness." irnering may e in the serv- "'~"'*"^TT**"!^'"f"'"»TW^*'^»f"H(aeaicsf.s-'sm;«^«»jfKi!^ [ y W^^^^^^^^&^i ■■■■ , i j '■^ > w y /'V ' ;*^*' ' .- "' ^ ' .yr ' ^