H (continued 2)

(1423)

HOME VALUES

“American art-students,” says Mr. L. Scott Dabo, a writer in The Arena, “make a mistake when they seek an ‘artistic atmosphere’ in Europe. To go abroad in search of beauty betrays soul poverty. The American who fails to find beauty in American landscape or artistic atmosphere among his fellow students, will never find either abroad, whatever he may induce himself to think. After the student has been thoroughly formed at home and merged into the artist, and not before, will he be capable of appreciating at its true value what the rest of the world has to offer.”

(1424)

HOME WHERE THE HEART IS

The following story is told of Hiram Powers, the sculptor:

Hiram Powers for thirty years wrought in Florence, Italy, away from his native land. Here he produced the “Liberty” which surmounts the Capitol at Washington, and such idealizations as “The Massachusetts Puritan,” and “The California Pioneer.” When asked once how he could keep so closely in touch with American life, tho he had been away from his native land so long, he replied, “I have never been out of touch with America itself. I have eaten and slept in Italy for thirty-odd years, but I have never lived anywhere but in the United States.”

As the sculptor lived in the United States while working in Italy, so it is possible for the Christian to be a citizen of heaven while staying and working here on earth. (Text.)

(1425)

HOMELESS

Joseph H. Choate tells the story of how he was approached one wet, wintry night on one of London’s lonely streets by a policeman.

“I say, old chap,” called the “bobby,” “what are you doing walking about in this beastly weather? Better go home.”

“I have no home,” replied Mr. Choate. “I am the American ambassador.”

This story is repeated in a pamphlet issued by the American Embassy Association, whose purpose is to promote and encourage the acquisition by the United States of permanent homes for its ambassadors in foreign capitals.

(1426)

HOMESICKNESS

A young Swedish girl was very homesick. “You ought to be contented, and not fret for your old home, Ina,” said her mistress, as she looked at the dim eyes of the girl. “You are earning good wages, your work is light, every one is kind to you, and you have plenty of friends here.”

“Yas’m,” said the girl; “but it is not the place where I do be that makes me vera homesick; it is the place where I don’t be.” (Text.)—Louis Albert Banks.

(1427)

HOMING INSTINCT, THE

The soul’s instinct toward the immortal life is like the instinct of these wasps:

Fabre, the wonderful French observer of wasps, experimented on them in regard to the matter of finding and knowing their holes, by carrying them away shut up in a dark box to the center of a village three kilometers from the nesting-ground, and releasing them after being kept all night in the dark boxes. These wasps when released in the busy town, certainly a place never visited by them before, immediately mounted vertically to above the roofs and then instantly and energetically flew south, which was the direction of their holes. Nine separate wasps, released one at a time, did this without a moment’s hesitation, and the next day Fabre found them all at work again at their hole-digging. He knew them by two spots of white paint he had put on each one.—Vernon L. Kellogg, “Insect Stories.”

(1428)

HONESTY

A merchant prince once pointed out a clerk in his employ to a friend, and said, “That young man is my banker. He alone has entire control of my finances. He could abscond with a hundred thousand dollars without my preventing it.” Seeing the friend’s evident disapproval at so great trust in one man, he continued, “I would trust him as I would my minister. He is absolutely honest; he could not steal.” And there are thousands of such men who have passed beyond temptation because of the ingrained, undisturbed integrity, acquired by a reverence for right and an early resolution to be true.—James T. White, “Character Lessons.”

(1429)

See Bargain Discountenanced; Christian Honesty.

HONESTY IN BUSINESS

The story is told of a young merchant who, beginning business some fifty years ago, overheard one day a clerk’s misrepresenting the quality of some merchandise. He was instantly reprimanded and the article was unsold. The clerk resigned his position at once, and told his employer that the man who did business that way could not last long. But the merchant did last, and but lately died the possessor of the largest wealth ever gathered in a single lifetime.—Noah Hunt Schenck.

(1430)

HONESTY, INTERMITTENT

In his “Among the Wild Tribes of the Afghan Frontier,” Dr. T. L. Tennell tells of an escort of two villainous-looking Afghans who had him in charge in turning back to Bannee from a journey across the frontier. They had paid him the greatest attention and brought him safely home. When he offered to reward them for their good conduct in guarding him and his belongings, they repelled the offer with a show of indignation, adding that to accept money from a guest would be to break their best traditions. But next morning, after he had entertained them generously overnight, and sent them off with many expressions of appreciation of their faithfulness, he found that they had decamped with all his best clothes. Their honesty did not survive the night.

(1431)

HONESTY REWARDED

A merchant required an additional clerk and advertised for a boy. The first boy that answered was ushered into a vacant room, and told to sit in a particular chair and wait. Looking around, he saw upon the floor, just by the chair, a one-dollar bill, folded closely, as tho it had been inadvertently dropt. He picked up the bill, and satisfying his conscience that “finding is having,” even tho on another’s premises, he put it into his pocket. Almost immediately the merchant came in, and after a few questions, dismissed the boy as not satisfactory. The next boy was seated in the same chair, and he also saw a one-dollar bill lying in the same manner beside him; but he picked it up and laid it on the table. The merchant entered, and after some questions, pointed to the bill and asked where it came from. The boy said he saw it on the floor and put it where it would be safe. The merchant said, “As it did not appear to belong to any one, why did you not keep it?” The boy replied, “Because it did not belong to me.” “My boy,” said the merchant, “you have chosen the road that inevitably leads to business success. The boy before you chose the wrong one. But how did you learn that this was the right path?” The boy answered, “My mother made me promise never, under any circumstances, to take what did not belong to me; and I promised.” Later in life this boy became Secretary of the Treasury.—James T. White, “Character Lessons.”

(1432)

Honesty, Simulated—See Pretense of Virtue.

HONOR

When Regulus was sent by the Carthaginians, whose prisoner he was, to Rome, with a convoy of ambassadors to sue for peace, it was on condition that he should return to his prison if peace was not effected. He took an oath to do so. When he appeared at Rome he urged the senators to persevere in the war and not to agree to the exchange of prisoners. That advice involved his return to captivity. The senators, and even the chief priest, held that as his oath was wrested from him by force, he was not bound to go. “Have you resolved to dishonor me?” asked Regulus. “I am not ignorant that tortures and death are preparing for me; but what are these to the shame of an infamous action, or the wounds of a guilty mind? Slave as I am to Carthage, I have still the spirit of a Roman. I have sworn to return. It is my duty to go. Let the gods take care of the rest.” Regulus accordingly returned to Carthage and was tortured to death.

(1433)

If one is possest of a delicate sense of honor it is not necessary to bind him with promises to keep personal matters confidential:

A New England school-teacher maintained an intimate friendship and spent much time with the poet Tennyson during his later years. One evening, when the two were thus together, Tennyson said that he would depart from his custom and narrate a personal experience; but he had suffered a good deal from repetitions of his tales by those to whom he had told them, and he would be obliged to ask his friend never to repeat what he was about to hear.

The American smoked on for a few seconds while Tennyson waited for the promise, and then he said, “My lord, in my country a gentleman would never make that request of another gentleman.” “H-h-m!” said the poet, and looked out of eyes that wondered if the quiet smoker opposite knew how much he’d said. Then he told the story.—Harper’s Weekly.

(1434)

See Money no Temptation.

HONOR AMONG BOYS

Two boys, John and William, both about the age of twelve, had a dispute over a game of ball, when John said that such action was mean and dishonest, upon which William immediately called him a liar, and they began to fight. They were not quarrelsome boys; they were serious and studious, but were boys of spirit and held high ideas of honor and uprightness. The teacher, who was a man of strong character, and a sturdy disciplinarian, came promptly upon the scene and separated the combatants, and sent both boys to their seats. The breach of school discipline had been flagrant, and all expected that severe punishment would be meted out to the boys. But nothing was said until just before school was dissmissed, when the teacher called the boys before him and said, “Do you think you did right in engaging in this fight?” To which both boys said they did, and that they would fight one another again upon the first opportunity. After some reflection, the teacher turned to John and said, “John, will you agree never to mention this subject until William mentions it first?” John replied, “Yes, but I will lick him good if he ever does.” The teacher turned to William and asked the same question, to which he replied, “I will not start it, but if John does I will lick him.” The teacher then said, “I think you are both honorable and trustworthy boys, and I am going to depend upon you to keep your word of honor, and not renew this fight until the other begins it. Now John, you take William by the hand, and tell him that you will never mention this subject unless he first speaks of it; but if he does, you will lick him.” The boys joined hands, and John told it over to William, and then William told it over to John. The solemnity with which the proceeding was conducted all the way through made a deep impression on the entire school, who felt it to be a very sacred thing between the two boys, and that it should never be even hinted at. This was a lesson in courage, self-respect, obedience, fidelity and self-control to the whole school, and it resulted in a lifelong friendship between the two boys.—James T. White, “Character Lessons.”

(1435)

HONOR, EXAMPLE OF

Horace B. Claflin, before he was twenty-one, had bought out his father’s grocery business. Intoxicating liquors were at that time considered an indispensable part of the grocery equipment; but the young merchant, as soon as he came into possession, emptied the wine-casks into the street. Later on he engaged in the dry-goods business, a large portion of which was in the slave-holding States; and when anti-slavery principles involved a business loss to Northern merchants, Claflin announced himself an uncompromising opponent of slavery. Such a stand and the Civil War coming on cut off his resources and revenues, and he was forced to suspend. He asked from his creditors an extension of time on a basis of seventy per cent of his indebtedness; but soon after resuming business Claflin paid off his extended paper long before maturity, and also the thirty per cent which had been unconditionally released, not only paying the entire amount of his indebtedness but also paying interest on the debt.—James T. White, “Character Lessons.”

(1436)

Honor in Failure—See Obligations, Meeting.

HONOR, THE ROAD TO

In one of his great debates on American taxation, Edmund Burke once paused to say, with regard to the consequence of the course he was pursuing: “I know the map of England as well as the noble lord or any other person, and I know the road I take is not the road to preferment.” But he took it, nevertheless.

The end of the right road is never obscurity or ingratitude or obloquy. It is the smile and welcome of God. Even here on the earth, the man who does right comes to his own. Of the men of his age in England, Burke is now among the most honored and will be among the longest remembered.

(1437)

Honoring Mother—See Love, Filial.

Honors for Negro Girl—See Negro Excelling.

HONOR’S ROLL-CALL

In a Decoration-day address Thomas Wentworth Higginson said:

The great French soldier, de Latour d’Auvergne, was the hero of many battles, but remained by his own choice in the ranks. Napoleon gave him a sword and the official title “The First Grenadier of France.” When he was killed, the Emperor ordered that his heart should be intrusted to the keeping of his regiment—that his name should be called at every roll-call, and that his next comrade should make answer, “Dead upon the field of honor.” In our memories are the names of many heroes; we treasure all their hearts in this consecrated ground, and when the name of each is called, we answer in flowers, “Dead upon the field of honor.”

(1438)

HOPE

(1439)

The world has no time and no use for the man who has no time and no use for hope. A gentleman on being asked to contribute to the erection of a monument replied: “Not a dollar; I am ready to contribute toward building monuments to those who make us hope, but I will not give a dollar to help perpetuate the memory and influence of those who live to make us despair.”—John E. Adams.

(1440)

Hope was the one thing that remained in Pandora’s box. While it remains men may courageously face life and the future.

When Alexander the Great crossed into Asia, he gave away almost all his belongings to his friends. One of his captains asked him, “Sire, what do you keep for yourself?” “I keep hope,” was the answer of the king. (Text.)

(1441)

HOPE DEFERRED

Once there was a woman whose harmless madness was to believe herself to be a bride, and on the eve of her wedding. Waking up in the morning, she asked for a white dress, and a bride’s crown; smiling, she adorned herself. “To-day he will come,” she said. In the evening sadness overmastered her, after the idle waiting; she then took off her white dress. But the following morning, with the dawn, her confidence returned. “It is for to-day,” she said. And her life passed in this tenacious, altho ever-deceiving, certitude—taking off her gown of hope, only to put it on again. (Text.)

(1442)

HOPE ENERGIZES

Hope is energy. The provisions have failed; the boat leaks, the seas rise, strength is gone, and intolerable thirst alone remains. But, upon the horizon there rise the masts and then the hull of the liner. Hope at once energizes. With the vestige of remaining strength, the distress signal is hoisted, it is seen; it is answered, the steamer’s course is changed, and rescue is at hand.—John E. Adams.

(1443)

Hope, Imparting—See Sick, Mirror an Aid to the.

Hope Revived—See Extremity not Final.

HOPELESS FEAR

Is there not an Eastern apologue which tells how the Angel of Pestilence was questioned as to the ten thousand victims he had slain? And did he not answer, “Nay, Lord, I took but a thousand; the rest were slain by my friend Panic.” How many, too, have sunk into the deep waters of the black river and been floated on to the ocean of eternity, for very paralysis of hope when the evil hour was upon them and they had just wetted their feet on the brink! They could, and they would have stept back to the solid shore; but they had no courage for the attempt, no energy to strike out to the land. The waters closed over their bowed head, and they sobbed away their breath in the very supineness of terror, the very lethargy of hopeless fear. Death is like everything else—a foe to be fought, a wild beast to be kept at bay. They who contend with most spirit live the greater number of days. The will to live and the determination not to die make the most efficacious antidote against the poison of the “lethal dart.” The hopelessness of fear is that poison itself.—E. Lynn Linton—The Forum.

(1444)

Horizons, Short—See Average Life.

Horoscopy—See Birth Ceremonies.

HOSPITALITY, ABUSE OF

The writer, when a boy, was invited with all the other members of his class to a picnic at the home of one of his companions, who was very poor, and whose widowed mother supported herself and her son from a small apple orchard. After spending the afternoon in boyish sports, the class was invited into the orchard to have some apples. With generous hospitality the host invited the boys to help themselves; but to his amazement, the boys, who were all from homes of refinement and supposed to be well brought up, began an orgy of unrestrained apple-eating, and after gorging themselves with all they could possibly eat, stript the trees in wanton waste, just taking a bite here and there and destroyed barrels of apples. The poor boy host could not conceal that this waste was an unlooked-for financial loss. It was an intemperate indulgence and abuse of hospitality that was contemptible.—James T. White, “Character Lessons.”

(1445)

HOSPITALITY IN CHURCH

Some years ago a young man came from the West to Pittsburg as a student. He did not know a solitary human being in either of the “Twin Cities.” At his boarding-house he was asked where he thought of going to church. He mentioned the place he had chosen, not because he knew anybody there, but because it was near at hand. “Well,” the questioner replied, “they will soon freeze you out from that congregation.” “I’ll give them a chance to welcome me, anyway,” was the rejoinder. “I don’t believe they are as cold as you think.”

The next Sunday morning found the student waiting in the vestibule for an usher to show him a seat. All of them were busy at the time, and the young man waited—did not run out of the door—just waited until some one had had a fair chance to notice him. After a while he felt a little squeeze of his arm from somebody behind. He turned and was confronted by a rather stout gentleman of strong but kindly features. There was but one word of inquiry—“Stranger?” “Yes, sir,” the young man replied. “Come with me to my seat.” “Stranger” obeyed. Shortly after two ladies entered the same pew. Not a word was spoken until after the benediction. Then the stout gentleman uttered another interrogatory word, “Student?” “Yes, sir,” was the reply. “Come and take dinner with me.” (Aside: “What’s your name?”) “This lady is my mother, and this, my sister. Here, let me introduce you to one of our elders, and here comes the pastor, Dr. Cox. Say, Mr. Shelly (a deacon), come over here; here’s a new friend I have just found; we want him to get acquainted. Now, let’s start for home.” (On the way): “Sing?” “A little—not very much—just enough, I guess.” “Come up to our mission Sunday school after dinner and help us, will you? I am superintendent.” “Sure.”

That day was the beginning of three years of happy acquaintance and helpful social intercourse with as cordial a congregation as ever assembled in any church.—H. H. Stiles, Christian Observer.

(1446)

HOSPITALITY IN OLD TIMES

The Rev. Asa Bullard tells this incident illustrating the hospitality expected of the parish minister in former days:

The clergyman’s house, in those days, was indeed regarded as the minister’s tavern. It was open to all clergymen. Now and then a minister would be found who would call on a perfect stranger for hospitality, giving very strange reasons. One who had been traveling in Maine called on a pastor of one of the large churches in Massachusetts for entertainment during the night; and he gave as a reason for taking such liberty that “he met his brother one day, as they both stopt at the same trough to water their horses.” (Text.)—“Incidents in a Busy Life.”

(1447)

Hospitals, The Utility of—See Charity, Logic of.

Hospitals, Walking—See Talking and Sickness.

Host’s Adaptation—See Tact.

House Bookkeeping—See Balance, A Loose.

Housecleaning—See Dust and Violets.

Household, Head of the—See China and America Compared.

HOUSE OF THE SOUL

(1448)

HOUSE, THE MORTAL

When John Quincy Adams was eighty years old he met in the streets of Boston an old friend, who shook his trembling hand, and said:

“Good-morning! And how is John Quincy Adams to-day?”

“Thank you,” was the ex-President’s answer; “John Quincy Adams himself is well, sir; quite well, I thank you. But the house in which he lives at present is becoming dilapidated. It is tottering upon its foundation. Time and the seasons have nearly destroyed it. Its roof is pretty well worn out. Its walls are much shattered, and it trembles with every wind. The old tenement is becoming almost uninhabitable, and I think John Quincy Adams will have to move out of it soon; but he himself is quite well, sir; quite well.”

It was not long afterward that he had his second and fatal stroke of paralysis.

“This is the last of earth,” he said. “I am content.” (Text.)

(1449)

Human Companionship Slighted—See Animals, Absurd Fondness for.

HUMAN FACTOR, THE

It is not on the fertility of the soil, it is not on the mildness of the atmosphere, that the prosperity of nations chiefly depends. Slavery and superstition can make Campania a land of beggars, and can change the plain of Enna into a desert. Nor is it beyond the power of human intelligence and energy, developed by civil and spiritual freedom, to turn sterile rocks and pestilential marshes into cities and gardens.—Macaulay.

(1450)

Human Life Lengthening—See Longevity Increasing.

Human Means—See Evangelization.

HUMAN NATURE, INSECURITY OF

On certain parts of the English coast calamitous landslips occur from time to time. Massive cliffs rise far above the level of the sea and seem solidly socketed into the earth below. But these rest, through some geological “fault,” on sharply inclined planes of clay. The moisture trickling through the cliffs in course of time tells on the slippery substance below till this becomes like the greased way down which a ship is launched. The day comes when the whole cliff, with its hundreds of feet of buttresses, slides bodily down, crashing to the rocks or into the water. Our human nature has in it a moral stratum of irresolution on which it is not safe to build our character. We must go down to the rock-bed of decision and must rest on the foundation of conviction that can not be shaken. Let us see to it that conviction of truth is formed within us. (Text.)

(1451)

HUMAN NATURE MUCH ALIKE

Charles Somerville, writing of the lower strata of society, that he calls the “underworld,” says:

Its inhabitants are not so altogether different from you and me. More wilful in their weaknesses, certainly, they are; more hysterical in their hilarities; blinder in their loves and bitterer in their hatreds; supinely subject to all emotions, good or bad, undoubtedly.... I remember so well the first time I saw a burglar in flesh and blood. His black mask was off, his revolver was in the possession of the police; he had just been sentenced to ten years’ imprisonment and was saying good-by to his wife and three little children. He was wholly like any other grief-stricken human being. His sob was the same. He was a sandy-haired man with rather large, foolish blue eyes. It was hard to imagine those same large blue eyes looking very terrible, even behind a black mask. (Text.)

(1452)

HUMAN PASSION

A teacher abandons her class of boys after some particularly disappointing outbreak, and in the utterance of her despair of doing more for them, discloses her wounded pride which resents such humbling. The reformer who has carried an election only to find the city slipping back into the old ways of corruption, becomes a common scold in his chagrin that all his labor counts for nothing, while his adversaries laugh at his impotence. And now and then a minister flings himself out of the pulpit, storming at the failure of the church, because his plans are balked and his self-denial goes unappreciated. In all this zeal for God that cries for judgment, there is so much of human passion eager for a personal vindication.—“Monday Club, Sermons on the International Sunday-school Lessons for 1904.”

(1453)

HUMAN TRAITS IN BIRDS

Our domestic birds often manifest symptoms of passions, whims, and moral aberrations, clearly analogous to those of their biped proprietors; and in the higher animals those manifestations become so unmistakable that a student of moral zoology is often tempted to indorse the view of that schoolgirl who defined a monkey as “a very small boy with a tail.” According to Arthur Schopenhauer’s theory of moral evolution, the conscious prestige of our species first reveals itself in the emotions of headstrong volition that makes a little baby stamp its feet and strike down its fist, “commanding violently before it could form anything like a clear conception of its own wants. Untutored barbarians,” he adds, “are apt to indulge in similar methods of self-assertion, and, in settling a controversy, prefer menacing gestures to rational explanations. That tendency, however, is not confined to infants and savages. In his controversies with his cage-mate (a female spaniel), my pet Cutch will lay hold of the dog’s tail and enforce his theories with a peremptory pull that never fails to provoke a rough-and-tumble fight; but, long after the dog has relapsed into sullen silence, her antagonist will shake the cage with resounding blows, and every now and then steal a look at the bystanders, to invite their attention to his ‘best method of dealing with heretics.’”—Felix Oswald, Popular Science Monthly.

(1454)

HUMAN TRAITS IN DISASTER

Commenting on the great Johnstown flood, Julian Hawthorne wrote:

We know, despite all deprecation, that the heights and depths of humanity can not be overstated. One man rides hand in hand with death for the sake of the lives of his fellow men. Another mutilates the sacred hand of the infant for the sake of its gold ring. A mother intrusts her children, one after the other, to the flood, hoping the reeling plank may save them, but believing that, whether or not, they are safe with God. In the midst of the kingdom of death, another mother brings a new life into the world. An officer of the guard profanes the awful day with maudlin drunkenness. A population sees the accumulation of lifetimes, and half its own members, annihilated in one desperate hour, and it is silent because silence is the only complete expression of misery. And over all the continent, upon converging lines, are journeying the tangible proof of sympathy from a nation which hastens to acknowledge the indestructible brotherhood of man.

(1455)

HUMANE SENTIMENT

An incident showing the growth of the humane sentiment is told in connection with the recent Paris flood. Upon one occasion great crowds gathered on the banks of the Seine at a point where what appeared to be a man, but which turned out to be a pig, that had been carried out of its sty by the flood, was making a struggle for life. After humane bystanders had manned a boat, rescued the animal, and brought it to shore, one woman declared she could not think of allowing it to be saved from drowning only to be butchered, and offered to purchase it from its owner for $38. After securing the animal, the problem was to get it to its new quarters, and this she solved by buying a collar, to which she attached a rope to be used as a leader. In her promenade as a pig-leader she was assisted by a great crowd, who jested and jeered, and finally the pig was installed in his new home. Our forefathers who engaged in pig-sticking by way of sport would doubtless be amazed if told that the time would ever come when people in a flood-plagued city would not only rescue a drowning pig, but save it from the butcher’s knife.—Vogue.

(1456)

Humble Helpers—See Interdependence.

Humble Helpers Remembered—See Negro “Mammy” Remembered.

HUMBLE WORK

One of Beethoven’s most famous concertos was suggested to the composer as he heard repeated knocks in the stillness of the night at the door of a neighbor. The concerto begins with four soft taps of the drum—an instrument which is raised in this work to the rare dignity of a solo instrument. Again and again the four beats are heard throughout the music, making a wonderful effect. God uses even the humblest player in His orchestra for some solo work. A man who can only play a drum can be made valuable in the music of the world. Let us be ready to do what He bids us, modest and obscure as our part may be, and thus we shall help on the harmonies of heaven. (Text.)

(1457)

HUMDRUM DEVELOPMENT

The Rev. Charles Stelzle writes this lesson from the experience of the yard engineer:

“Go ahead; that’ll do; back up; a little more. That’ll do.” A yard crowded full of freight-cars that needed to be shifted and shunted—this is the work and the vision that daily greet the “driver” of the switch-engine. He is shut off from the scenery and the romance which the engineer of the lightning express is supposed to enjoy. He sees little besides the waving arms or the swinging lantern of the switchman. He hears little besides the screaming of slipping wheels, the bumping of freight-cars, the hissing of the escaping steam and the monotonous voice of his fireman repeating the orders signaled from his side of the cab.

But how typical of life it all is. There is no one entirely free from the humdrum and the monotone. And this seems to be well, for drudgery is one of life’s greatest teachers. The humdrum duties of life develop character. It is because we have certain duties to perform every day, in spite of headache, heartache and weariness, that we lay the foundation of character.

(1458)

Humiliation—See Bargain-making; Timidity.

Humiliation, Light in—See Light in Humiliation.

HUMILITY

Dr. Franklin, writing to a friend, says:

The last time I saw your father he received me in his study, and, at my departure, showed me a shorter way out of his house, through a narrow passage, crossed by a beam overhead. We were talking as we withdrew, and I, turning partly toward him, he suddenly cried, “Stoop! stoop!” I did not know what he meant till I felt my head hit against the beam. He was a man that never failed to impart instruction, and on this occasion said, “You are young, and have to go through the world; stoop as you go through it, and you will miss many hard thumps.” This advice, thus beat into my head, has been of singular service to me, and I have often thought of it when I have seen pride mortified and men brought low by carrying their heads too high. (Text.)

(1459)

True exaltation is always accompanied by corresponding humility. Truly great souls never rise in conscious self-aggrandizement. They sink in self-esteem and are bowed low under a sense of responsibility in proportion to the splendor of their achievements.

In the Alps the eagle soars up higher and higher till its figure is a mere speck in the zenith. Among the mountains is a lake in whose bosom is a perfect reflection of the dome of the heavens. The traveler in these regions, standing by the lake, sees everything above mirrored in the lake. The flight of the eagle higher than the mountain-tops, as reflected in the lake, seems to be a descent lower and lower. The higher the flight the deeper the bird seems to be diving downward. (Text.)

(1460)

On the tomb of Copernicus is a figure of himself standing with folded hands before a crucifix. In the background are a globe and compass. Near the left arm is a skull, and under the right arm, written in Latin: “I crave not the grace which Paul received, nor the favor with which Thou didst indulge Peter; that alone which Thou bestowedst upon the thief on the cross—that alone do I entreat.” (Text.)

(1461)

Emerson points out the necessity of humility to any wholly approvable character in the following story:

Among the nuns in a convent not far from Rome, one had appeared who laid claim to certain rare gifts of inspiration and prophecy, and the abbess advised the holy father at Rome of the wonderful powers shown by her novice. The Pope did not well know what to make of these new claims, and St. Philip Neri, a wise devout man of the Church, coming in from a journey one day, he consulted him. Philip undertook to visit the nun, and ascertain her character. He threw himself on his mule, all travel-soiled as he was, and hastened through the mud and more to the distant convent. He told the abbess the Pope’s wishes and begged her to summon the nun. The nun was sent for, and, as soon as she came into the apartment, Philip stretched out his leg, all bespattered with mud, and desired her to draw off his boots. The young nun, who had become the object of much attention and respect, drew back with anger, and refused the office. Philip ran out-of-doors, mounted his mule, and returned instantly to the Pope. “Give yourself no uneasiness, Holy Father, any longer; here is no miracle, for here is no humility.” (Text.)

(1462)

See Modesty.

HUMILITY OF A SCIENTIST

Ten years before his death, Agassiz, wishing to illustrate the laborious and slow results of scientific research, said: “I have devoted my whole life to the study of nature, and yet a single sentence may express all that I have done. I have shown that there is a correspondence between the succession of fishes in geological times and the different stages of their growth in the egg—that is all.” Here speaks the scientist, with that humility which characterizes the true student of nature. But let me follow with his prouder outlook for such toil: “It is given to no mortal man to predict what may be the result of any discovery in the realm of nature. When the electric current was discovered, what was it? A curiosity. When the first electric machine was invented, to what use was it put? To make puppets dance for the amusement of children; but should our work have no other result than this—to know that certain facts in nature are thus and not otherwise, their causes were such and no other—this result in itself is good enough and great enough since the end of his aim, his glory, is the knowledge of the truth.”—Julia S. Visher, The Christian Register.

(1463)

HUMOR

(1464)

HUMOR AND GENEROSITY

In his “Reminiscences” of the late Sir Henry Irving, says the London Academy, Joseph Hatton gives an anecdote which shows the great actor in the role of a humorist:

A widow of an old Lyceum servant applied to him for some sort of occupation about the theater, whereby she might earn a living. Irving appealed to Loveday, the manager.

“There is absolutely no vacancy of any kind,” said Loveday. “Can’t you give her a job to look after the theater cats? I think we’ve too many mice about, not to mention rats.” “No,” said Loveday, “there are two women already on that job.” “Hum, ha, let me see,” said Irving, reflectively, then suddenly brightening with an idea. “Very well, then, give her the job of looking after the two women who are looking after the cats.” The widow was at once engaged on the permanent staff of the theater.

(1465)

HUMOR, LACK OF

Rev. W. H. Fitchett points out the lack of humor in Susannah Wesley, the mother of John Wesley:

The only charge which can be fairly urged against Susannah Wesley is that she had no sense of humor. The very names of the children prove the complete absence of any sense of the ridiculous in either the rector of Epworth or his wife. One daughter was cruelly labeled Mehetabel; a second, Jedidah. Mrs. Susannah Wesley’s theological performances while yet in short dresses prove her want of humor. A girl of thirteen, who took herself solemnly enough to undertake the settlement of “the whole question betwixt dissent and the Church” must have been of an unsmiling and owl-like gravity. Now, humor has many wholesome offices. It acts like a salt to the intellect, and keeps it sweet. It enables its owner to see the relative sizes of things. It gives an exquisite tact, a dainty lightness of touch to the intellectual powers. And Mrs. Wesley visibly lacked any rich endowment of that fine grace.—“Wesley and His Century.”

(1466)

HUMOR OVERDONE

In the “War Reminiscences” of General Carl Schurtz, he relates a conversation which he had with the then famous Thomas Corwin, one of the great orators of his day, but one whose oratory had come to be regarded as chiefly remarkable for its display of humor. As General Schurtz rose to leave Mr. Corwin, at the close of the interview, the latter said to him:

I want to say something personal to you. At Allegheny City I heard you speak, and I noticed that you can crack a joke and make people laugh if you try. I want to say to you, young man, if you have any such faculty, don’t cultivate it. I know how great the temptation is, and I have yielded to it. One of the most dangerous things to a public man is to become known as a jester. People will go to hear such a man, and then they will be disappointed if he talks to them seriously. They will hardly listen to the best things he offers them. They will want to hear the buffoon, and are dissatisfied if the buffoon talks sober sense. That has been my lot. Look at my career! I am an old man now. There has always been a great deal more in Tom Corwin than he got credit for. But he did not get credit because it was always expected that Tom Corwin would make people laugh. That has been my curse. I have long felt it, but too late to get rid of the old reputation and to build up a new one. Take my example as a warning. (Text.)

(1467)

Humor, Sense of—See Retrieved Situation.

HUNGER, ENDURING

General Morgan, on one occasion, in discussing the fighting qualities of the soldiers of different nations, came to the conclusion that in many respects they were about the same, with one notable exception. “After all,” he said, “for the possession of the ideal quality of the soldier, for the grand essential, give me the Dutchman—he starves well.”—Donald Sage Mackay.

(1468)

Hurry—See Haste Without Self-control.

Husband and Wife—See Marriage Relations in the East.

HUSBAND AND WIFE, RELATIONS BETWEEN

We hold certain views with regard to what is proper between husband and wife. Those views are not held by the nations in general, and missionaries need to be very particular about offending. For instance, a husband goes away, and when he returns from his tour and gets into the yard, the usual Oriental crowd follows. His wife rushes out to greet him, and very naturally they kiss. Like Judas, they are betraying the cause by that act, because it is most unseemly to do such a thing as that openly in certain countries. A missionary friend from Central Africa tells of a tribe that he had labored to influence and had partially succeeded. When he was leaving for further touring and was sending his wife back home, he kissed her. Immediately the two hundred men present burst into long and uncontrollable laughter, not because it was new to them—for they kiss on both cheeks—but because no man ever thought of doing so in public. My friend lost more respect in a second than he had won for himself by his laborious cultivation of the strange tribe.—H. P. Beach, “Student Volunteer Movement,” 1906.

(1469)

HUSBANDRY, SPIRITUAL

The orange men in California sent an expert all over Europe to find an enemy of the scale that was destroying the fruit-trees of California. One day, in Spain, he found a tiny creature which he named the lady-bird. It has a sharp lancet that it thrusts into each insect. It goes over the tree with inconceivable rapidity. When it finds the scale under the bark it thrusts the sword down, and now the lady-bird is working together with the husbandman, amid the prune- and orange-trees of California. Cockleburs are foes of corn, but a hoe has a sharp edge. Ye are God’s harvest field. Hate is a weed, envy and jealousy are sharp thorns. Selfishness is a poison vine. Surliness is a fungus growth; lurking evil is the deadly night-shade. But love is a rose, joy is like a tiger-lily; peace is the modest arbutus. Contentment is a sweet vine that grows over the door of the house of man’s soul. Honesty and industry are the goodly shocks and sheaves; these homely virtues are food to the hungry. God is a husbandman.—N. D. Hillis.

(1470)

Husband’s Disloyalty—See Saloon Effects.

Hygienic Conditions—See Health, Economics of.

HYMN, A GOOD

The occasion of the hymn, “Just as I am without one plea,” by Charlotte Elliott, and perhaps her masterpiece, is full of interest as interpreting its spiritual significance to the soul hesitating in its penitent approach to Jesus. Dr. Cæsar Malan, of Geneva, was staying at her father’s house, and addressing himself to Miss Elliott, who was a stranger to personal religion, on this vital subject, the young lady resented it, notwithstanding that the clergyman introduced the matter in his gentlest manner. Upon reflection, however, she relented, and with real concern, added: “You speak of coming to Jesus, but how? I am not fit to come.” “Come just as you are,” said Dr. Malan. (Text.)

(1471)

HYMN, AN EFFECTIVE

It is told of John B. Gough how, seated one Sabbath in a church service, a strange man was ushered into the pew at his side. Conceiving a strong dislike for the man from his mottled face and twitching limbs and mumbled sounds, Mr. Gough eyed his seat-mate, when, during the organ interlude in singing the hymn, “Just as I am without one plea,” the stranger leaned toward him and asked how the next verse began. “Just as I am—poor, wretched, blind,” answered Mr. Gough. “That’s it,” sobbed the man, “I’m blind—God help me,” and he made an effort to join in the singing. Said Mr. Gough, in telling the incident, “After that the poor paralytic’s singing was as sweet to me as a Beethoven symphony.”

(1472)

Hymn-making—See Challenge.

HYPNOTISM AND CRIME

Hypnotism as an aid to crime has been variously discust in France from both the medical and the legal side, with the general conclusion that legislation is needed to cover the most palpable employment of it. The fact that a hypnotized subject can take and execute a criminal suggestion made by another, and yet be really innocent of any immoral intent, is beyond all doubt; and this fact has led observers to the conclusion that the blame must rest upon the giver of the suggestion. An additional precaution which the true originator of the crime might take would be to give a suggestion forbidding the subject to reveal to any one the name of the suggester or the fact of the suggestion. On the contrary, he was to say and feel that the act was committed of his own accord. This complicated the legal aspect of the question very seriously; but further experiments have shown that the instigator of the crime would not be so entirely safe, after all. M. Jules Liegeois, who has studied most carefully the legal aspects of hypnotism, suggested to a lady subject that she take a pistol and shoot a certain Mr. O. She acted out the suggestion perfectly, not knowing that the load was a blank cartridge. When again hypnotized, she admitted the crime and defended her action. Another gentleman now gave her the suggestions (1) that when the instigator of the crime enters the room she should go to sleep for two minutes; (2) on awakening, she should fix her eyes upon the man constantly until allowed to desist; (3) she should then stand in front of him and attempt to conceal him. When M. Liegeois entered the room, she fell asleep, and did all that was asked of her, thus revealing the instigator, tho told by him not to do so. Professor Bernheim induced a subject to steal, and forbade him to mention that he had been told to do it. The patient said he stole because the idea occurred to him, but, when told to go up to the true criminal and say, “Please sing me the ‘Marseillaise,’” he did so. It seems, then, that the subject will do nothing that he has been categorically forbidden to do, but that he will succumb to an indirect mode of revealing the true instigator of the crime. This certainly aids the courts, but it is a question how far it will be of service when the true criminal is not present, and whether additional suggestions in the first instance will not considerably interfere with the reliability of later testimony. Its further development will be watched with great interest by all students of the scientific aspects of mental phenomena.—Science.

(1473)

HYPOCRISY

Little Willie—Say, pa, what is a hypocrite?

Pa—A hypocrite, my son, is a man who publicly thanks Providence for his success, then gets mad every time anybody insinuates that he isn’t mainly responsible for it himself.—Tit-Bits.

(1474)

When one proceeds after the fashion of certain processions, that take one step back every time they take two forward, what is there astonishing if he does not cover any appreciable distance? But man has the silly childishness to believe that what he does at certain hours and without the pale of that part of his life which is known, does not count. He flatters himself that the assets alone will figure in the final reckoning; that what he puts openly in the balance will be weighed, but that what he secretly withdraws will not be deducted. Like that merchant, at once pious and crafty, who, on Sunday closed his shop, but received his patrons through a side door, he honors God publicly, and, in secret, betrays Him. (Text.)—Charles Wagner, “The Gospel of Life.”

(1475)

Hypocrisy in Prayer—See Diplomacy, Cowardly.