S (continued 3)

On a certain day there were twenty-four directors in the head office. They waited vainly for the twenty-fifth. Their half-hour delay was costly to Smith and many others.

Mr. Brown, the twenty-fifth director, was late because his clerk had not brought a certain mail package due on the one-o’clock express. The clerk came at last with the package; the one-o’clock express had arrived late.

Fifty more plans went wrong because the express was late. Men rang up the general manager’s office to complain of the annoyance. The manager sent for the conductor. The conductor explained that the fault was a “hot box.” Inquiry at Rochester traced the hot-box to the inspector and oiler. He had come late to his work and was only in time to go over half the wheels of the express. The oiler, being questioned, admitted that he was late owing to a sick baby, for whom he had been obliged to go for a doctor. So, in a way, an oiler’s sick baby, two hundred miles away, upset Smith and his family, delayed boards of directors, changed Wall Street fortunes. Victor Hugo said that at Waterloo “the universe changed front.” But it changes front every time we act. If one member suffers, all the members suffer with it.

(2997)

The people of the world have a community of interests. Sickness in the slums of a great city, for instance, breeds disease in the whole community:

A man in the city of Chicago was asked why he did not do more to better the condition of the working people in the poorer sections of the city. “What are they to me?” he heartlessly answered. A few weeks later his daughter died of typhoid-fever brought to her in clothing made in the sweat-shops which her father thought it was not his business to try to do away with. (Text.)

(2998)

See Sensitiveness.

SOLIDITY OF OLD TRUTHS

The fine-grained old truths of religion have been deposited by the world’s best life. Its age is theirs; but, altho so many epochs and races went to make them, we use them now without a thought of their age or of the gravity of getting them well-grown; like the beautiful ivory mammoth tusk, sticking six or seven feet out of the frozen ground in Alaska, which the Indians have used for generations as a hitching-post. Tribes come and go, and generations succeed each other; but we all hitch up to the solid truths which offer their convenience, embedded in the past. (Text.)—John Weiss.

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SOLITUDE, LESSON OF

My safety (from madness) lay, as I found, in compressing my thoughts to the smallest compass of mental existence, and no sooner did worldly visions or memories intrude themselves, as they necessarily would, than I immediately and resolutely shut them out as one draws the blind to exclude the light. But this exclusion of the world created a dark background which served only to intensify the light that shone upon me from realms unseen of mortal eyes. Lonely I was, yet I was never alone. (Text.)—Mrs. Maybrick, “My Fifteen Lost Years.”

(3000)

SOLITUDE, TRAINING IN

A writer tells of a little bird which would not learn to sing the song its master would have it sing while its cage was full of light. It listened and learned a snatch of this, a trill of that, a polyglot of all the songs of the grove, but never a separate and entire melody of its own. Then the master covered its cage and made it dark; and then it listened and listened to the one song it was to sing, and tried, and tried, and tried again, until at last its heart was full of it. Then, when it had caught the melody, the cage was uncovered, and it sang the song sweetly ever after in the light. (Text.)

(3001)

Solving Worry—See Contentment.

Son Conquered—See Worshiper, A Mother.

Song—See Praise.

SONG AND HUMANITY

The teacher of music should bear in mind that his subject is related to life in a profound and many-sided fashion. The songs of home and friendship, of religion and patriotism, have no small place in the higher life of humanity. To cite one example: I have been present at a Phi Beta Kappa dinner at Harvard when, at the close, the company of scholars joined hands and sang together Burns’ song of “Auld Lang Syne.” I have heard the same song at a company of ministers at a theological seminary reunion. After the battle of Manila Bay, where the British and American marines fraternized, as the British men-of-war left the harbor, the marines of both nations sang the same song. It was the music of the plowman-poet that best fitted as a parting-song of friendship for the scholar, the theologian, and the marines of two great modern nations. Read the tributes to music of noted men of letters like Carlyle and Newman. See how they have been imprest by this art, which opens into the world of the ear or sound—a word which has its artists and poets, its historians and dramatists, its architects and builders, as the world of letters or of space.—W. Scott, “Journal of the National Educational Association,” 1905.

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SONG AND SUFFERING

It is said of Charlotte Elliott, the author of the “Invalid’s Hymn-book,” that tho she lived to enter her eighty-second year, she never knew a well day. Her sweet hymns, such as “Just as I am without one plea,” were the outpouring of a heart that knew what it was to suffer. Like so many other bards, she “learned in suffering what she taught in song.” (Text.)

(3003)

SONG AS A WELCOME HOME

In the mountains of Tyrol it is the custom of the women and children to come out when it is the close of day and sing. Their husbands, fathers and brothers answer them from the hills on their way homeward. On the shores of the Adriatic such a custom prevails. There the wives of the fishermen come down about sunset and sing a melody, listen for a while for an answering melody from off the water, telling that the loved one is almost home. How sweet to the weary fisherman, as the shadows gather around them, must be the songs of the loved ones at home that sing to cheer them, and how they must strengthen and tighten the links that bind together these dwellers of the sea.

(3004)

SONG, EFFECTIVE

An African heathen chief from an inland district was passing a mission school in Livingstonia. He heard the children singing their simple parting hymn. He sat down and waited till they came out. Then he asked the teacher “What were these children doing?”

“Singing a hymn,” she replied.

“What is a hymn?” asked the chief; “it has touched my heart. I should like the children of my village taught some hymns.”

There has since been a school established in that chief’s village, and the gospel is reaching the people through the simple messages carried by the children in song and story.

(3005)

Thirty men, red-eyed and disheveled, lined up before a judge of the San Francisco police court, says The Youth’s Companion. It was the regular morning company of “drunks and disorderlies.” Some were old and hardened, others hung their heads in shame. Just as the momentary disorder attending the bringing in of the prisoners quieted down, a strange thing happened. A strong, clear voice from below began singing:

Last night! It had been for them all a nightmare or a drunken stupor. The song was such a contrast to the horrible fact that no one could fail of the sudden shock at the thought the song suggested.

The song went on. The judge had paused. He made a quiet inquiry. A former member of a famous opera company, known all over the country, was awaiting trial for forgery. It was he who was singing in his cell.

Meantime the song went on, and every man in the line showed emotion. One or two dropt on their knees. One boy at the end of the line, after a desperate effort at self-control, leaned against the wall, buried his face in his folded arms, and sobbed, “O mother, mother.”

The sobs cut the very heart of the men who heard, and the song, still welling its way through the court-room, blended in the hush. At length one man protested:

“Judge,” said he, “have we got to submit to this? We’re here to take our punishment, but this—” He, too, began to sob.

It was impossible to proceed with the business of the court, yet the judge gave no order to stop the song. The police sergeant, after a surprized effort to keep the men in line, stept back and waited with the rest. The song moved on to its climax:

In an ecstasy of melody the last words rang out, and then there was a silence.

The judge looked into the faces of the men before him. There was not one who was not touched by the song; not one in whom some better impulse was not stirred. He did not call the cases singly—a kind word of advice, and he dismissed them all. No man was fined or sentenced to the workhouse that morning. The song had done more good than punishment could have accomplished.

(3006)

SONG IN THE NIGHT

Years ago, when the Ocean Monarch was wrecked in the English Channel, a steamer was cruising along in the darkness, and the captain heard a song, a sweet song, coming over the waters, and bearing down in the direction of the voice, he found it was a Christian woman on a plank of the wrecked steamer singing:

(3007)

Song of Cheer—See Cheer, Good.

Song, Power of—See Life-line, Hymn.

SONG, THE GOSPEL IN

The ministry of song in modern times has been of incalculable value in spreading the truths of the Word. Speaking of a city-wide revival in Boston, a current news item says:

The city is ringing with revival melodies. Everywhere Mr. Alexander’s songs are being hummed and whistled and sung. A number of revival hymns have been published in the newspapers, and a few days ago two drummers were seated in a train going out of Boston, holding a newspaper before them and singing from it lustily, “Don’t Stop Praying.” A gentleman who happened to be in the same car, which was filled with people, said that he finally approached them and asked them if they were ministers. “Oh, no,” was the reply, “we are just drummers.” In one of the hotels some theatrical women were singing, “He Will Hold Me Fast,” instead of their own songs. These are simply indications of the way in which the gospel songs have permeated the entire city. (Text.)

(3008)

Songs Born in Trouble—See Neglect of Genius.

SONGS THAT ENDURE

George Sylvester Viereck, in “Prisoners of Song,” has these suggestive lines on the immortality of the song:

(3009)

SOOT

The Chicago public laboratories recently made tests to determine the amount of soot and dust deposited from the air in that city. The acreage deposit, as estimated from samples collected at eight different heights during a period of four weeks, was, approximately, at the rate of 8.5 tons per acre per year. On the Board of Trade Building, 110 feet above the street level, the estimated annual deposit was 10.5 tons. On the county building, 160 feet above street level, the amount was 7.8 tons, and on the Reaper Block, 120 feet above street level, 12.6 tons. The situation in Chicago is different only in degree from that prevailing in every large city. It would be interesting (and no doubt appalling) to know how many tons of soot enter the lungs of the inhabitants of our large cities.—Good Health.

(3010)

Sorrow—See Suffering Transformed.

SORROW FOR A LOST CAUSE

In reminiscences of her husband, General George E. Pickett, of the Confederate Army, his widow has this to say in regard to the sadness that filled the Southern heart at the close of the unsuccessful war:

He (General Pickett) gave his staff a farewell breakfast at our home. They did not once refer to the past, but each wore a blue strip tied like a sash around his waist. It was the old headquarters flag, which they had saved from the surrender and torn into strips, that each might keep one in sad memory. After breakfast he went to the door, and from a white rose-bush which his mother had planted, he cut a bud for each. He put one in my hair and pinned one to the coat of each of his officers. Then for the first time the tears came, and the men who had been closer than brothers for four fearful years clasped hands in silence and parted. (Text.)

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SOUL A UNITY

The Christian soul is not a department store. It does not advertise songs for Sunday, sharp bargains for Monday, doubts for Tuesday, worldliness for Wednesday, dishonesty for Thursday, compunction for Friday, repentance for Saturday, and then songs again for Sunday. No! The Christian soul is not a fractional mechanism, but an organism. It is fed by the divine sap that flows into it from the true vine. Thus does the glow of its life splendor every service it renders. The rich hues of its godliness vein the whole of its life as a spiritual mosaic.—F. F. Shannon.

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SOUL AND NATURE

The daisy brightening in the shadow of the hedgerow, or strewing the fields as with golden flakes; the trees spreading their whispering roof of tremulous foliage, or holding against the blast their rugged arms, inlocked with a trunk deep-set and rooted; brooks, lapsing or leaping from their summit springs; the ocean, which takes these to itself, without an added ripple on its bays, or an increase of its tides; all sounds, of mirth, or suffering, or fear; the drowsy hum of multitudinous insects; the arrowy song of birds, swifter than wings, aspiring to the skies; all forms and tones of human life; the immeasurable azure which is over us everywhere, brilliant with stars, or flecked with clouds, or made the blue and boundless realm of the victorious sun—all these, and all the visible system which these but partly represent, the soul perceives. It goes out to them, in its observant, inspecting glance. It meets and hears them, if they are vocal, with its attent sense. It apprehends them all, arranges them in their natural and obvious order, assigns to each its place and service, and lives amid them as in a home reared for it and furnitured at the commencement of its being.—Richard S. Storrs.

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SOUL FLIGHT

(3014)

SOUL, GREATNESS OF THE

The mountain is vast in size and weight. The weary feet clamber over it painfully. It offers homes along its breast to the enterprise which seeks them. Its quarries build palaces, and its woods timber navies. It lifts its crown of snow and ice against the sky, and stands amid the scene a very monarch of earth, primeval and abiding. But the soul can compass that mountain in its thought, without weariness or pain; can take it up and weigh it, in the balances of exact mathematical computation; and spurning it then, as a mere footstool for its activity, can spring from it to that boundless expanse amid which the mountain is less than is the least of the dust grains of the balance to its solid bulk.—Richard S. Storrs.

(3015)

Soul-growth—See Growth, Unconscious.

SOUL, HARMONIOUS NATURE OF

A harp might conceivably be so framed by its maker that every string, tho rightly tuned and rightly struck, according to the theory and design of the instrument, should emit when touched a separate discord. Or it may be so framed, as we know by experience, that from it shall flow, when fitly swept by an educated hand, the concerted numbers of noble music; inspiring the thoughts with their spiritual force, or suffusing the very air around us with an audible glory, and making it drop benedictions upon us. If the former be the case, we know that the instrument was made without design, or else was made with malicious intent, to mock with pain where it promised to please. Now God has so framed the human soul, in His wise and benevolent ordination of its powers, that each of these powers as normally employed, according to His plan, gives a separate pleasure. If unhappiness comes from them, it is from their wrong use, not from their use; from our perversion, and not from our just employment of them.—Richard S. Storrs.

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SOUL-MUSIC

During the fame of Ole Bull he played one night before the students of Princeton College. It was a wonderful exhibition. They marveled, as so many had marveled before them, at the strange things which he did with the violin. They heard the birds as they warbled among the trees of the forest; they heard the storms as they hurled their thunders back and forth among the crags of the mountain. Then the tones became so soft and sweet they could almost believe a mother was singing her babe asleep. When he had finished they gathered about him and said, “Tell us the secret.” Ole Bull answered, “It is not in the instrument nor the bow, tho I use the best that money can buy. It is not primarily in the hand that wields the bow, nor the fingers that press the strings. If there is anything to tell, it is this: I never play until my own soul is full. Then the music is the overflow of the musician’s soul.”

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SOUL QUERIES

(3018)

Soul-revival—See Conversion.

SOUL-SATISFACTION

Ellen Glasgow writes of the contentment of a soul on friendly terms with itself:

(3019)

SOUL-SURGERY

In the corn-field you find the juicy ear overtaken by the deadly fungus. The farmer lifts his knife, and cuts away one-half of the ear, that he may save the sweet corn on the other half. From the prodigal, Jesus cut away his sins, that He might save the boy’s soul.—N. D. Hillis.

(3020)

SOUL, YOUR

A very little girl, having received some dim impression regarding the soul, was asking her mother what it was. “Can you feel the soul, mother; can you hear it?” she asked, and then, “can you see it?” The mother answered that the soul could not be felt or heard, but that sometimes it seemed as if we could see it in the eyes. “Let me see yours,” said the little one, and gazing into the mother’s dear eyes she saw there the tiny image of herself, and exclaimed, “O mother, your soul is a little child!”

It would be profitable to all of us if we would ask ourselves this question, “Is my soul a little child?” (Text.)

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SOUNDS

Compared with the Western world, with its indescribable hubbub, Korea is a land of the most reposeful silence. There are no harsh pavements over which horses are tugging their lives out, no jostling of carts or dray-wagons, no hateful clamor that forbids quiet conversation, but a repose that is inherent and eternally restful. The rattle of the ironing-sticks is not nerve-racking, but rather serves as a soporific to put all the world to sleep. Apart from this, one hears nothing but the few calls and echoes of human voices. What a delightfully quiet land is Korea! In the very heart of its great city, Seoul, you might experiment at midday in the latest methods of restcure and have all the world to help you.—James S. Gale, “Korea in Transition.”

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SOWING AND REAPING

(3023)

SOWING BY SONG

“What shall the harvest be?” the composition of Mrs. Emily Oakey, and as sung by Mr. Sankey, won to Christ and to the gospel ministry the Rev. W. O. Lattimore, long pastor in Evanston, Ill. Young Lattimore joined the army in 1861 a moral youth of eighteen years, but later, a first lieutenant, he fell into drink, becoming a physical wreck. But one day in 1876, in the gallery of Moody’s Tabernacle in Chicago, dazed from drink, the voice of Sankey in this pathetic song aroused in him new emotions, particularly the words:

The seed was sown—good seed this time; and from the saloon to which he withdrew, he returned to the Tabernacle, found a Savior, rejoined wife and child whom he had long abandoned, and after a successful pastorate of twenty years, died in 1899—a whole harvest to the seed-sowing of Christian song.

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SPACE NOT VACANT

The idea that the vast spaces between the sun and the various planets are void and untenanted now belongs only to the history of science. To-day it is known that these spaces are filled with vast swarms of minute, dust-like bodies, each and every one revolving about the sun in vast ellipses, each one being, in fact, a microscopic planet. These bodies make their presence known not only as meteors or shooting-stars, but also by their power to reflect sunlight, and thus produce the peculiar evening glow of the zodiacal light.—Charles Lane Poor, “The Solar System.”

(3025)

Sparrow and Sermon—See Sermon, Saving a.

Speaking Extemporaneously—See Tact.

SPEAKING, PUBLIC

To talk to a crowd of 5,000 people—few living speakers know what that means; the expenditure of nervous force, the strain on throat and brain, on body and soul. But Wesley did this, not only every day, but often twice and three times in a day. He did it for fifty years, and the strain did not kill him!

Gladstone’s Midlothian campaign in 1879 is famous in history; but it was confined to a little patch of Scotland; it lasted fifteen days, and represented perhaps twenty speeches. But Wesley carried on his campaign on a scale which leaves Mr. Gladstone’s performances dwarfed into insignificance. He did it on the great stage of the three kingdoms, and he maintained it without a break for more than fifty years!—W. H. Fitchett, “Wesley and His Century.”

(3026)

See Tact.

SPEAKING TO DO GOOD

A writer in the London Mail has this to say concerning Theodore Roosevelt while in Egypt:

At Cairo he was asked to leave out his reference to the murder of the Prime Minister. “No,” he answered, “that is just what I want to say. If you do not care about it let us call the engagement off.”

There spoke the essential Roosevelt, not the politician, but the preacher. His object in speaking is to do good. To give advice, to stiffen healthy instincts, to strengthen public opinion against meanness and cruelty, to induce every man and every woman to make the best of themselves—those are the essential Roosevelt aims. His style smacks more of the pulpit than the platform.... “If I had been a Methodist,” he once declared, “I should have applied for a license as a lay preacher.” Since then he has obtained his license to preach—but from a greater body than the Methodist Conference. He is preacher-in-general to the whole civilized world.

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SPEECH

Compare the golden oriole, swinging in the sunshine, and filling the house with flashing melodies, with the infant, moaning in his yet inarticulate speech, that lies beneath! The bird was made for enjoyment first; for work, subordinately. The infant was created for an enjoyment to be realized through fervent operation. The bird has a beauty of the Mind which created him. The gloss upon his breast, and the brilliance on his wings, were put there by God’s pencil. His gushing song warbles a tribute to Him who gave him power to sing. But the child has a struggling capacity within him, as much grander than this as the spiritual and divine are always grander than the physical. He hath in his being the germs of speech. And speech can represent the most delicate feeling. It can set forth the mightiest process of thought. It can furnish an image for all that is conceived. It can take up and interpret the very thoughts of the infinite, translating them into language for the immortals to hear.—Richard S. Storrs.

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See Silence and Speech.

SPEECH AND MISSIONARIES

We very frequently disgust people because of our seven-by-nine vocabulary. When the missionaries first went to the Hawaiian Islands it was perfectly proper for them to call the horse the “not pig,” because they knew no horse and the newcomers were obliged to describe a horse in some way; but it is infantile for a missionary in countries where horses are common, because they do not happen to know the word for “horse” and do know the words for “not pig,” to call a horse the “not pig.” There is too much guesswork about that kind of talk, and you offend people by so doing.

Vulgarity of speech is a very common fault with many. We do not realize, perhaps, how our language has been purified, but in most of the missionary countries the language is vile beyond expression. A missionary adopts a word heard because he wants to use the language of the people; and he picks up something that is very greatly soiled. I recall a meeting that was electrified and horrified by a missionary who, in reading a hymn, repeatedly used an obscene word through sheer carelessness.—H. P. Beach, “Student Volunteer Movement,” 1906.

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Speech and Practise—See Profession versus Character.

SPEECH, COMMON

John Wesley believed in the people, and one of the chief secrets of his success lay in his power to learn from the masses how to speak to them and influence them. On one occasion he was walking with his scarcely less famous brother, Charles Wesley, the hymn-writer, in a humble street in London, when they came face to face with a crowd of fishwomen who were in a row, and were cursing and swearing in a most excited fashion. Charles Wesley, more timid than his brother, turned to John and said: “Brother, let us go up this other street and escape from this mob.” But John Wesley thought Charles needed more contact with the people, and taking him by both shoulders faced around toward the quarreling women, saying, “You stand there, Charles Wesley, and learn how to preach!”—Everybody’s Magazine.

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Speech, The Effect of Earnest—See Earnestness.

Speed—See Swiftness of Birds.

Speed in Travel—See Traveling, Progress in.

Speed Increased by Reducing Delays—See Delay.

Speed, Sensation of—See Obstacles.

SPEED, THE SECRET OF

In attacking some evils the best way to sweep them down, is often to use our greatest bulk and energy at the outset; as a ship, according to M. C. L. Meyher, moves fastest when the bow is made larger than the stern.

It should be noted in passing that all creatures that are called upon to move rapidly through a fluid are much slenderer behind than before, and it should be added that forms that are too slender in front are quite unsuited for great speeds. This may easily be demonstrated, but would take us too far from our subject for the moment. We should only say that it is difficult to understand why designers so often persist in giving to vessels forms that are more slender in the bow than in the stern, when the contrary should be the case.—Revue Generale des Sciences.

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Spelling at Fault—See Illiteracy.

SPHINX, THE

(3032)

Spiders and Music—See Music and Spiders.

Spider as a Barometer—See Indicator, An Insect.

Spiders, The Value of—See Balance Preserved in Nature.

SPIRIT AND FORM

Religion may be compared to a banana. The real heart religion is the juicy pulp; the forms and ceremonies are the skin. While the two are united and undivided the banana keeps good until it is used. And so it is with religion. Separate the forms from the spirit, and the one will be of no more value than the banana husk, while the latter will speedily decay and become corrupt, apart from the outward expression.—Arthur T. Pierson.

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SPIRIT, FRUIT OF

How beautiful on paper are the flowers delineated in many a seedman’s catalog, but what disappointment sometimes ensues when it is found that their actual growth comes far short of the printed description! It is never so with the fruits of the Spirit, of which Paul gives a list. All the grace described in his catalog brings forth glory that answers fully to the promise. The divine Spirit never disappoints and the grace of God can not fail. (Text.)

(3034)

Spirit Manifestation a Power—See Consistency.

SPIRIT MORE THAN BODY

One of America’s prominent astronomers is only four feet high, and would hardly outweigh a boy of ten years. But there are few who could outweigh him in intellect and achievement. Alexander H. Stephens, with a dwarf’s body, did a giant’s work. With only a broken scythe, by sheer force of will and work, he overmatched in the harvest those who had fine mowing-machines.

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SPIRIT, THE SPARK OF

Recently, I visited Fort Monroe and was taken through those interesting barracks. An officer pointing out a great gun said to me, “With that we could tear to pieces yonder wall of stone and destroy many lives thousands of yards away.” A friend standing near said, “Not so, that gun in itself is powerless.” “Oh,” the officer exclaimed, “of course, we must first place the powder and the shell in it, and then the disastrous work will be done.” The reply was made, “All of your guns and powder and shell are absolutely powerless to make any impression in themselves. There is one thing lacking.” “Yes,” he said, “but a spark of fire would hurl forth the missile of death and bring about the great destruction.” We may have big guns in the pulpit, and in the pew, we may have the finest machinery and external equipment; but unless we have the fire of the Spirit we can never shatter the strongholds of Satan and bring in the reign of our spiritual King.—H. Allen Tupper.

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SPIRIT, WINDS OF THE

Many a pilgrim has been lost in the world’s deserts. A wanderer who had lost his bearing in a wilderness, altho he had in his hand a compass, knew not whether its needle pointed toward a place of rest and refreshment, or only to a spot where he might lie down in despair.

He sank down on the arid sand. But presently a green leaf was wafted close to his feet. On seeing that it was perfectly green and fresh, he reasoned that it must have come from some not distant place where water, shade, and food could be found, and of course the breeze indicated the right direction. Facing the wind he soon discovered an oasis where he quenched his thirst at a spring.

So the promises from the word of God, fresh with the dew of the Spirit of life, flutter to us on what seems to be the chance currents of life. Often thus when our hearts are weary, and joy has faded, and hope is weak, we are encouraged with revived strength and are made to understand which way to turn.

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Spirit’s Permanence—See Record, Living.

Spirit’s Presence, The—See Presence of God.

SPIRITS, WATCHING

The influence exerted by belief in invisible presences is illustrated by Mr. Lafcadio Hearn, who says that it is extremely difficult for a Western mind to apprehend the full meaning of ancestor-worship as a family religion, and cites as the nearest parallel the nature of the old Greek piety:

Each member of the family supposes himself or herself under perpetual ghostly surveillance. Spirit eyes are watching every act; spirit ears are listening to every word. Thoughts, too, not less than deeds, are visible to the gaze of the dead; the heart must be pure, the mind must be under control, within the presence of the spirits. Probably the influence of such beliefs, uninterruptedly exerted upon conduct during thousands of years, did much to form the charming side of Japanese character. (Text.)

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SPIRITISTIC PHENOMENA

In an article on apparitions written by Andrew Lang, in the second volume of the “Encyclopedia Britannica,” ninth edition, he says:

“The writer once met, as he believed, a well-known and learned member of an English university who was really dying at a place more than a hundred miles distant from that in which he was seen.”

To determine whether or not it was a case of mistaken identity is very important, but no opportunity is given in the passage quoted. If it was a subjective impression, the coincidence would be curious and nothing else; and not more so than many coincidences in trifles, and many other circumstances absolutely disconnected, and many subjective impressions without any coincidences. Mr. Lang refers to the superstitious horror shown by a dog at the moment of a supposed apparition to his master. That the dog exhibited horror when his owner thought he saw an apparition may be readily believed. Any one familiar with dogs knows that nothing will terrify them more than a great appearance of alarm on the part of their masters without any visible cause. Of the same nature is the remark concerning the mysterious disturbances at the house of the Wesleys. “The mastiff was more afraid than any of the children.” The volatile imagination of children have never shown any great horror of the mysteries; they were sustained, too, by confidence in their parents. But the dog heard mysterious noises, which naturally greatly agitated him. Many persons fancy that mysterious noises that will appear to respond to questions, to make raps or answer raps, conclusively prove that they are directed by intelligence. Sometimes they may, and the intelligence is quite likely to be of human origin; but the noises of atmospheric, chemical, or electrical origin may furnish astonishing coincidences, just as the fissures in the rocks are extremely difficult to be distinguished from hieroglyphics. Some years ago an alphabet based on the spiritualistic alphabet was applied to the successive gusts of wind of a stormy autumn day, and the coincidences were astonishing. Whole sentences of a very significant character at times appeared to respond to the arbitrary standard. And in any case the conclusion that a noise, the cause of which is not yet understood, must be supernatural is a process of reasoning ab ignorantia.—J. M. Buckley, Century.

(3039)

Spiritual Culture—See Appreciation, Spiritual.

SPIRITUAL DECLENSION

“Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing” issued from the consecrated genius of Robert Robinson, a native of Norfolk, England, who was converted under Whitefield’s powerful preaching, and himself became a minister of the gospel.

It was while on a stage journey once, in company with an unknown lady passenger, that he heard her begin singing the above lyric to divert her attention, when he said to her: “Madam, I am the unhappy man who wrote that hymn many years ago; and I would give a thousand worlds if I had them, if I could feel as I felt then.” (Text.)

(3040)

Spiritual Development—See Moods of the Spirit.

SPIRITUAL GUNNERY

After carefully loading his gun for the kind of game which seems to require his immediate and special attention, the spiritual gunner should be sure to take particularly good aim at it. A good aim is an essential to success. The gunner who aims at nothing in particular, who closes both eyes and fires at random, will hit nothing in particular, unless it be by accident, and will receive no commendation for his skill. In fact, he is very apt to hit what he does not wish to hit, and what he will do more harm than good by hitting. Again, in these days sin and sinners—the game the spiritual gunner is after—are so uncommonly lively that they must be hit on the wing, if hit at all. The spiritual gunner must, therefore, learn to aim accurately at “arm’s length,” and quickly. If he trusts to a “dead rest” aim, the game will be very apt to get out of range before his gun goes off, and his work and ammunition will both be wasted—and that is not creditable to a gunner. Long-range shooting should also be avoided, and the gunner should quietly work his way as near as possible to his game and fire at the shortest possible range. A well-loaded gun, fired at short-range and with steady aim, will generally hit the mark and do execution.—The Evangelist.

(3041)

The spiritual gunner who has a reasonably fair appreciation of his important and responsible business will not try to use the same kind of gun for all kinds of game. He will adapt his gun to the kind of game he has specially in view, and he will always have in view game of some kind if he is anxious to become “a mighty hunter before the Lord.” He will not bring out a loaded Armstrong, or Columbiad, or Gatling for very small game and reserve his smallest arms for game of the largest and most dangerous kind if he wishes to bear home any trophies of his working skill. Every professional gunner—every pulpit gunner especially—who wishes to do efficient work will not only have large guns and small guns ready loaded, where he can lay his hands on them at once, but will know just when and how to use each kind. He will also be careful not to use kicking guns and overloaded guns, which always do a great deal more harm to those behind them than they do to those just in front. A gun that shoots straight ahead without much scattering, instead of backward or sideways, that is well aimed, and that carries true to its aim, is the only gun for the spiritual hunter, whether it be large or small.—The Evangelist.

(3042)

SPIRITUAL NOBILITY

A touching tribute to one of nature’s noblewomen appeared in the Pall Mall Gazette:

(3043)

SPIRITUAL PERTURBATION

After Bunyan’s marriage the record of the next few years is like a nightmare, so terrible is his spiritual struggle. One day he feels himself an outcast; the next the companion of angels; the third he tries experiments with the Almighty in order to put his salvation to the proof. As he goes along the road to Bedford he thinks he will work a miracle, like Gideon with his fleece. He will say to the little puddles of water in the horses’ tracks, “Be ye dry”; and to all the dry tracks he will say, “Be ye puddles.” As he is about to perform the miracle a thought occurs to him. “But go first under yonder hedge and pray that the Lord will make you able to perform a miracle.” He goes promptly and prays. Then he is afraid of the test, and goes on his way more troubled than before.

After years of such struggle, chased about between heaven and hell, Bunyan at last emerges into a saner atmosphere, even as Pilgrim came out of the horrible Valley of the Shadow. Soon, led by his intense feelings, he becomes an open-air preacher, and crowds of laborers gather about him on the village green. They listen in silence to his words; they end in groans and tears; scores of them amend their sinful lives.—William J. Long, “English Literature.”

(3044)

Spiritual Power the True Estimate—See Measurement, Spiritual.

SPIRITUAL VALUES

Jesus asked, “How much is a man better than a sheep?” Here are some estimates:

The deepest needs of the world are spiritual needs. One man invested $100,000 in India. It resulted in the conversion of 50,000 in that district—one soul saved for every two dollars invested. Christ’s standard of greatness was service. On the Kongo a man’s value is estimated in cattle; on the Hudson, in social standing; but by the river of life, by what he is, and the standard is helpfulness.

(3045)

SPIRITUALITY, RATIONAL

On some clear evening when the stars shrink back before the pathway of the ascending moon, and night is almost transformed to day, we are moved to admiration and pleasure; yet all this attractive light, focused to the smallest compass, could not dissolve the most delicate petal of frost or melt the tiniest snowflake.

Such is science without sentiment, the intellect without the heart, religion without spirituality. But on the other hand, the true church is one which combines both; which is purely rational, yet deeply religious; which is perfectly tolerant and catholic; which yet extends its fraternal hand to the needy, opprest, and downtrodden of every class; which is bound to no creed whatsoever, but is genuinely, rationally, vitally spiritual.—George C. Cressey.

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SPRING AS TYPE OF LIFE

(3047)

SPRINGS FROM GOD

You remember the masonry in Prospect Park (Brooklyn), built to hold that huge bank in its place? Well, when that solid wall was completed, a hidden spring broke out, and the walls moved and cracked. Pulling the masonry down a second time, it was again rebuilt. This time a little drain tube and faucet were put in. But the mouth became stopt up, and a second time the pressure of the hidden waters moved the wall. Then another tube and pipe were put through the wall. What was the power that put such immeasurable pressure upon masonry and moved it? It was the hidden water—silently, steadily, irresistibly, crowding all before it. To-day the hidden waters may manifest themselves through one tube, and to-morrow they may gush through another tube, but the power is in the water and the reservoir behind it, and not in the tube through which it appears. And that power that lifted the Hebrew slaves and swept them forward and buoyed them up, now revealed itself through the lips of Moses, and now speaks through the life of Joshua, transforming the people, is not in Moses, nor in Joshua, it is in God.—N. D. Hillis.

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Salvation is by character, but character is the gift of God. Far up on the northeastern coast of Maine there is a little spring; through all the hours of a sunny afternoon it poured its crystal flood that ran singing toward the sea. Then, the briny sea turned to a salt the spring. The waves with their bitterness came in and buried it, and the sweet water seemed lost forever. Then in the eastern sky God hung His orb of light, and silently by that invisible pull, and with its secret voice it called to the waves of salt, and drew back the briny flood with its mire and filth, that ebbed away, and lo, the little spring flowed on, fed by the pure fountains on the hillside far above the ocean’s brine. And the soul’s life comes down from the mountains, where its hidden springs are in God. Aspiration, hope and love gush on forever pure. Temptations may rise, like the tide. Troubles, ingratitudes and hatreds may sweep on like hungry waves, the world may cast up its mire, but soon these troubles will recede, and leave the spring of life within the soul, to gush forth once more. It is the river of God, the well that springs up into everlasting life.—N. D. Hillis.

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SPRINGS OF LIFE

In ancient pagan religions there was a peculiar sacredness attached to running water in springs or rivers. The famous oracle of Delphi was beside the Castalian spring; and in the haunted grotto of Egeria, inspired by the murmurs of its beautiful fountain, the first king of Rome received from the celestial nymph the laws and the religious rites which he imparted to the primitive community. Rivers in prehistoric times were everywhere worshiped; shrines were erected on their banks, and they had priests of their own. Men swore by them, for the spirit of the waters could drown those who proved false to their word; and the most awful form of oath is that which the Hindu still takes who swears by a divine river more sacred even than the Ganges—of which the Ganges is only an earthly manifestation. The office of the Hebrew prophets received its name in the original from a root signifying the bursting forth and the overflowing of a copious fountain. As the spring bursts forth from the heart of the rock in full flood, so the inspiration of God bursts forth from the heart of the prophet. This origin of the name would indicate that springs and rivers were at first chosen as the medium of a divine revelation—The Quiver.

(3050)

Spurious Virtue—See Pretense.

Stage to Pulpit—See Evangelism, Unusual.

STAGNANCY

Sailors tell us that there is a dead spot in the Caribbean Sea. It lies midway between Carthagena in Columbia and Kingston, Jamaica. It is out of the track of steamers and the action of the great currents going one way and another has left a space of stagnant water without any real movement at all. Anything that gets into “the dead spot” is apt to stay there unless driven out by some big storm, and will simply drift round and round, gathering sea-grass and barnacles.

Is there not “a dead spot” in the sea of life, a place out of the currents of earnest activities where souls drift and gather worthless accretions? (Text.)

(3051)

STAINS

(3052)

STANDARDS

For measuring a base line (in calculating a parallax) metal bars or rods are used. These are carefully compared in the laboratory with the standards and their lengths at a definite temperature determined. Unfortunately, when these rods are taken into the field for actual use they are exposed to constantly varying temperatures, and they expand and contract in a very troublesome way. Various devices have been used to eliminate the errors thus introduced, the simplest and best being the Woodward “ice-bar apparatus” used by the Coast and Geodetic Survey. In this the metal measuring-bar is supported in a trough and completely packed in ice, and thus maintained at the uniform temperature of 32 degrees Fahr. With such an apparatus a base line can be measured with an error of only a fortieth of an inch in a mile, or one part in two and a half million.—Charles Lane Poor, “The Solar System.”

(3053)

See Excellence is Comparative.

Standing by the Ship—See Loyalty.

Stars and Stripes, Disrespect to the—See Patriotism, Lack of.

Stars Converting a Skeptic—See Converted by the Comet.

Stars, Gate of the—See Gate, The, of Stars.

State, The, More Than the Individual—See Representative Dignity.

STATESMAN ON MISSIONS

In visiting India, Hon. Charles W. Fairbanks, former vice-president of the United States, took pains to aline himself with the Christian missionary movement in that country. In a public address he said: “I believe the greatest influence to-day—I speak from the standpoint of a layman but with measured utterance—is the Christian religion. The largest progress made in America has been under the influence of men who have been profound believers in the Bible and its thoughts. And what I say of America may also be said of other Christian nations; the experience of one is the experience of another. I wish to express my profound admiration—it goes beyond mere respect—for the workers in the great missionary field. I have seen many a work; I have seen the rich, abundant harvest they have gathered and are gathering. They are evangels of a new order of things. They are doing much to knit the peoples together, and have earned their right to the gratitude of mankind for their noble self-sacrifice.”

(3054)

STATESMANSHIP

The Manchester Guardian, in an editorial on the one hundredth anniversary of Gladstone’s birth (December 29), had the following fine appreciation of the great statesman’s international spirit:

To him the line of State boundaries formed no limit beyond which the writ of conscience ceased to run. He held national duties to be as sacred as personal duties, and judged national honor by the same standard as personal honor. From the debate on the opium war in 1840 to the last speech on behalf of the dying Armenians in 1896, Gladstone maintained this ideal in the face of Europe. He could not always carry it through against his own colleagues in government. No man at the head of affairs can have his way in all things; but he closed his public career by resigning office rather than associate himself with an increase of armaments which he judged unnecessary, and therefore injurious to the cause with which his name is indelibly associated.

(3055)

STATIC PROGRESS

Life is not always by motion; sometimes it is improved by waiting. The boat in the lock stands still in order to be lifted higher.

(3056)

Stationary Lives—See Marking Time.

Stationary, The Effect of Things—See Influence.

Statistics, Divorce—See Divorce.

Statistics of Churches—See Church Statistics.

Statistics of Sunday-schools—See Sunday-school Statistics.

Statues, The Value of—See Beautiful, Influence of the.

Stature and Situation—See Disproportion.

Stature not Greatness—See Greatness.

STEADINESS OF PROVIDENCE

In a poem, “The World Runs On,” Edmund Vance Cook, in The Independent, thus expresses the calm steadiness of God’s providences:

(3057)

STEADY WORKING

Among the country boys who pick berries there are two kinds: one keeps steadily picking through thick and thin, moving only when there are no berries in sight; and the other one runs about looking for the places where berries are thick. But the boy of the first kind is the first one to fill his pail.

(3058)

STEDFASTNESS

It was the standing of Jackson’s brigade so firmly as to attract the attention of a Confederate officer at Bull Run that led the soubriquet to be applied to him of “Stonewall” Jackson. (Text.)

(3059)

(3060)

STEPS UPWARD

When one is climbing a mountain whose lofty peak he has long admired from a distance there is an arduous ascent and one with many steps to be made; but how good and wholesome is the way. The path which winds through grassy meadows, the bridge which crosses the rushing stream pouring down from the heights, the slow and toilful ascent, repaid by the purer air and the rarer flowers and the wider vision, over obstacles, and then, at last, the height itself, different from the rest only in this, that it is the culmination! There can be no Parnassus without the steps that lead to it.—George Clark Coe.

(3061)

Stewardship—See Claim, God’s.

STICKING TO IT

A friend, a former colleague of mine, told me that he was, many years ago, traveling up to London with an owner of race horses who was accompanied by his trainer. When they arrived at the station near the metropolis where the tickets are collected, the ticket-collector came, and my friend said, “My servant has my ticket in the next carriage.” The ticket-collector retired and presently came back rather angry and said, “I can not find him.” My friend said, “He is in the next carriage—or the next carriage but one; he is there.” As soon as the ticket-collector retired for the second time the trainer leaned forward and said, “Stick to it, my lord, you will tire him out.”—Lord Herschell.

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STIGMATA

Francis, Duke of Guise, bore the common name of Le Balafré, or “The Scarred.” In a skirmish with the English invaders he received a wound the most severe from which any one ever recovered. A lance entered above the right eye, declining toward the nose, and piercing through on the other side, between the nape and the ear. The weapon was broken off, a part remaining in the dreadful wound. The surgeon took the pincers of a blacksmith and tore out the barbed iron, leaving a frightful scar which was shown as a signal badge of honor.

When Thomas tested the wounds of the risen Savior he cried, “My Lord and my God.”

(3063)

Stimulus—See Opposition; Social Christianity.

STIMULUS FROM RIVALRY

Social rivalry brings its rich compensations. It is so with the international rivalry. America and Australia at this moment are sending into this country (England) corn, meats, fruits, and our farmers declare that they are being ruined. But the fact is men have to be ruined that they may be made over again, and fashioned on a grander pattern. Our husbandmen will be compelled to put away all droning; they must go to school again, they must invent new methods, they must adopt new machines, sow choicer seeds, breed superior cattle; they must grub up the old canker-eaten, lichen-laden orchards, and plant fresh fruit-trees of the best varieties. The pressure of the times will lift the national husbandry to a higher plane. And this international rivalry will have the same stimulating effect on city life.—W. L. Watkinson, “The Transfigured Sackcloth.”

(3064)

Stomach Contraction—See Adaptation.

Stones, Comparing—See Common Things.

Stored Energy—See Reserve Power.

STORY, THE POWER OF THE OLD

Do you remember the story of Paul Du Chaillu, the great African traveler, in the heart of the Dark Continent? On one occasion he told the “old, old story” to a poor slave woman; then he went on his way and forgot all about the incident. He came back a few months later to that town and the slave-traders had just made a raid on it. In the fight this woman was injured. She sent for him and he went to see her. As he knelt down beside her, she said, “Tell it again.” “Tell what again?” he said. “Oh, tell me that story again.” Then once more he told her the old, old story of Jesus and His love. As he finished it, she said to him, “Is it true?” “Yes,” he replied, “it is true.” “Do your people believe that?” “Yes, they believe that.” “Oh,” she said, “tell them to send us that story a little faster.”—A. S. Wilson, “Student Volunteer Movement,” 1906.

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STRAIGHT CHARACTER

“Is he straight?”

“Straight as a gun-barrel. You can depend upon him in every spot and place.”

This was said of a boy who had asked for a place and had given as a reference the gentleman who made this firm reply.

How straight is a gun-barrel? In the factory where guns are made the metal is rolled and prest and ground and polished until the most practised eye can not detect the slightest curve in it anywhere. Not until it is so can it be permitted to go out of the factory. Over and over again it must be tested and tried until it is as perfect as men and machines can make it. If the gun-barrel were not straight, no one ever could hit what he aimed at; the bullet could not help flying wide of the mark.

And hitting the mark is the thing. “Straight” is a homely word, but it is full of the deepest meaning. No one can ever reach his aim, be it ever so high, unless he always does the true, manly thing. One little mean, underhanded act, and his life may be marred forever. The world wants men who are straight. (Text.)—Edgar L. Vincent, The Visitor.

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STRAIN, NERVOUS

Jack Tattersall, the wireless man of the steamship Baltic, which went to the aid of the Republic on January 23, 1909, is said to have sat at his key for 52 hours. In relating his experience he said:

It wasn’t the actual work that bothered me, you know. That’s not so difficult.

No; it’s the awful nervous strain of striving, always striving, to get the message right, when half a dozen gigantic batteries are jerking flashes to you at the same time, drowning each other out, pounding in your ears, making the night seem to swarm with sparks before your eyes. That’s what gets on a man’s nerves; that’s what makes you next to insane. I hardly knew what to do, with the Republic signaling me, faintly, so faintly that I could not make out whether they were saying, “We are sinking,” or “All safe.” (Text.)

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STRATAGEM BY BIRDS

A gentleman had a fine setter-dog who was accustomed to take his daily bone, with due allowance of meat adhering, to the lawn to enjoy at his leisure. On one occasion he observed several magpies planning to get a share of the dainty. They quietly approached the dog and placed themselves one at the head, about two feet from the animal, who was too busy to notice them, a second near the tail, and one or two by his side. When all were placed, the bird near the dog’s tail gave a sudden nip to that member. The dog, of course, wheeled to catch the offender, who fled, while his hungry comrades rushed to the bone, hastily snatching what they could. The fleeing magpie led the outraged dog to some distance, drawing him on by fluttering as if injured, without really taking flight.—Olive Thorne Miller, “The Bird Our Brother.”

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STRATAGEM TO ESCAPE ENEMIES

One of his (the fox’s) favorite tricks is to cross over deep water on thin ice just strong enough to bear him, knowing that in all probability the hounds will break through, and perhaps be swept under the ice if the current is strong enough. More than one valuable dog has been drowned in this manner, but I have never known a fox to miscalculate the strength of the ice and break through himself. If the stream is not wholly frozen over, he runs along at the very edge of the deep water, where the ice is thin and treacherous, until he comes to a place where he can jump across to the thin ice that reaches out from the opposite bank.—Witmer Stone and William Everett Cram, “American Animals.”

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STRATEGY

The best strategy in life is frequently to take advantage of an enemy’s mistakes.

In Mark Twain’s “Autobiography,” in the North American Review, is General Grant’s own opinion in regard to the inception of Sherman’s march to the sea.

“Neither of us originated the idea of Sherman’s march to the sea. The enemy did it,” said Grant.

He went on to say that the enemy necessarily originated a great many of the plans that the general on the opposite side gets the credit for. In this case, Sherman had a plan all thought out, of course. He meant to destroy the two remaining railroads in that part of the country, and that would finish up that region. But General Hood made a dive at Chattanooga. This left the march to the sea open to Sherman, and so, after sending part of his army to defend and hold what he had acquired in the Chattanooga region, he was perfectly free to proceed with the rest of it through Georgia. He saw the opportunity, and he would not have been fit for his place if he had not seized it.

(3070)

Grant was always aggressive. It was not possible with him that retreat, or any inaction could form any part of his program. But while the campaign from Culpepper to Cold Harbor was boldly, even daringly, offensive, it was so conducted that in nearly every conflict the enemy was obliged to become the attacking party; and this plan of campaign against Lee recalls this colloquy between two Roman generals: “If thou art a great general come down and fight me.” “If thou art a great general make me come down and fight thee.” And it will be observed that four times out of five—for the army had fought on five distinct lines—Grant, by a single march, had made Lee come down and fight him.—Nicholas Smith, “Grant, the Man of Mystery.”

(3071)

This is the fable of a spider as quoted from Blackwood’s Magazine:

A spider, it seems, had occasion to borrow a sum of money. A journey round to the generously disposed brought him two thousand cowries each from the cat, the dog, the hyena, the leopard, and the lion. When pay-day came round, the spider remained at home to receive the visits of the creditors in a certain prearranged order. First came the cat to claim repayment of his loan. “Hush!” said the spider. “I hear a noise outside—it is a dog come to see me; you must hide under this calabash for safety.” The cat was scarcely hidden when the dog, coming in, made a similar request for his money. Says Master Spider, “There is a cat under that calabash; take him, and consider the debt paid.” No sooner said than done. Just then a snuffling and scraping were heard at the door. The third creditor, the hyena, had arrived. “Don’t be alarmed, my dear dog, but hide here till he has left,” and the spider bustled him under the calabash. “I smell a dog,” said the hyena, routing about. “Under that calabash,” the spider replied. “Eat him up, and your debt is paid.” The dog paid the penalty of his simplicity, and all was quiet once more. The hyena was preparing to leave, when he heard an ominous sound that sent him crouching against the wall. It was the pattering of the leopard’s feet at the door. “Quick! Under this calabash,” cried his host, and the hyena curls up in the fatal cache, only to meet a like fate from his more courageous enemy. “My debt is repaid!” said the leopard, and ran against the lion coming in. A terrible fight ensued, for the leopard and the lion are equal in strength, so the natives say. While blood and dust make havoc in the house, and both animals are exhausting their strength, the spider is busy at the fire. Seizing a pot of boiling grease, he pours it over the clawing mass. Leopard and lion roll apart in their death agony, and the spider has only to straighten and clean up before resuming once more the humdrum life of fly-catching.

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Strategy of Enemies—See Subtlety Among Animals.

STRATEGY, SOCIAL

Not all the strategy of life is on the fields of diplomacy or war.

An official tells a good story of the time when Hamilton Fish was Secretary of State. It had been said that Mrs. Fish sometimes carried her high ideas of courtesy too far—that it was Quixotic.

One of her rules, for instance, was to return every call she received. Her husband was continually holding public receptions, and to these, out of courtesy, many women would come who had no desire that Mrs. Fish should call upon them—who were in no position to receive her properly if she did call.

One such woman attended a Fish reception, left her card, and a little later was duly honored by a call from Mrs. Fish. The Fish equipage dashed down the narrow street and halted before the woman’s shabby little house. The footman opened the carriage door and Mrs. Fish descended.

The poor woman of the house was in a dreadful predicament. She was, alas, kneeling on the sidewalk beside a bucket of hot water. Her sleeves were rolled back. She had a scrubbing-brush in one hand and a cake of soap in the other. She was scrubbing the front steps.

Bending graciously over her, Mrs. Fish asked politely:

“Is Mrs. Henry Robinson at home?”

And Mrs. Henry Robinson replied: “No, mum, she ain’t,” and went on scrubbing.

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Streams, Living and Dying—See Early Promise.

STRENGTH

William Herbert Hudnut writes this virile advice for New Year’s time:

(3074)

STRENGTH FROM RESISTED EVIL

In general, every evil to which we do not succumb, is a benefactor. As the Sandwich Islander believes that the strength and valor of the enemy he kills passes into himself, so we gain the strength of the temptation we resist.—Philadelphia Ledger.

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Strength of the Weak—See Weakness and Strength.

STRENGTH, SECRET SOURCE OF

Numa Pompilius, the second and the wisest King of Rome, was accustomed to retire to the forest, and receive wisdom and instruction from the goddess Egeria—who met him in secret—and then came forth to triumph in government and over his enemies. (Text.)

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STRING, THE NEED OF MORE THAN ONE

Thomas K. Beecher tells a story of finding his father’s old fiddle in the garret, where on a rainy day he had taken some children to play. It was all covered with dust and had only one string. And Mr. Beecher held it up to the children and told them how he used to hear his father play on it the old tunes, “Merrily, Oh,” and “Pompey Ducklegs.”

Of course, they cried “Play on it. Play the old tunes.” “I can not,” he said, “for it has only one string.” When he tried it he could only pick out with three notes a tune. Then he said, “If it had two strings, I could play six tunes, and if it had not only a G string, but a D string and an A string, and an E string, I could play all the tunes. You can not play real music with one string.”—N. McGee Waters.

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Stress and Storm Gains—See Adversity.

Striving—See Strain, Nervous.

STRONG AND WEAK

The idea of the big ones swallowing up the little ones, or the idea of the trusts, is not by any means confined to land, as we may see from reading the following:

As the sea covers three-fifths of the surface of the globe, its fauna is similarly greater than the living forms on land. When a naturalist inspects a little pool not larger than a billiard-table which is filled by the splashing waves of the Mediterranean, he finds it teeming with more varied and busy forms of life than can be found in a square mile of ordinary land. But in all that living marine world there is not a trace of goodness! All fishes are murderers and cannibals, and as in fresh water big trout relish eating small trout, so, in the wider waters of the ocean, wo to the small fry when a larger father or brother catches sight of them!

Science has boldly penetrated these dark, still abysses and finds that they abound with life. But such life! Many of the abysmal forms have large, movable jaws with rows of teeth all pointing backward, making escape impossible when once any creature is caught by them. The scientists of the Challenger were once puzzled to make out what a thing was which came up in their trawl, until it proved to be a fish caught by a smaller fish who was swallowed by its larger brother by gradually pulling itself glove fashion over its victim by means of barbed teeth—somewhat like a child being slowly swallowed alive by a large expanding toad. In those black depths some forms have phosphorescent lights not unlike burglars’ dark-lanterns, with which to hunt their prey.

Only among those animals which originally used to tread the solid earth and then took to the sea, like the whale, seal, and walrus, is there any sign of any falling off in all-devouring selfishness; these are mammals, and hence show affection for their young. But they live where they have to encounter the hideous swordfish, or their own relative who has been transformed into the cruel grampus, and so must fight for life.—W. Hanna Thomson, M.D., Everybody’s.

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Strongest Quality Cultivated—See Advantage, Working to the Best.

STRUGGLE

Contending with the globe, we are like Jacob wrestling with the angel. The fight is long and hard amid the mystery and the darkness, and the great Power seems reluctant to bless us; but the breaking of the day comes, and we find ourselves blest with corn, wine, oil, purple, feasts, flowers. Ah! and with gifts far beyond those of basket and store—ripened intelligence, self-reliance, courage, skill, manliness, virtue. Of course, man suffers in the conflict, as the patriarch did. When we see the farm laborer bent double with rheumatism, or the collier mutilated by the explosion in the mine, or the grinder with his lung gone, or the weaver with his enfeebled physique, or the seaman prematurely old through his battle with wind and wave, or any of the million workers who carry pathetic signs of the arduousness of toil, we see the limp of the victorious wrestler. In the South Seas the natives lie on their backs and the bread-fruit drops into their mouths. But these make a poor show in the grand procession of the ages.

The law of life is truly severe which enjoins that man shall eat bread in the sweat of his face, but in this struggle for life our great antagonist is our great helper; we are leaving barbarism behind us; we are undergoing a magnificent transformation; we are becoming princes of God and heirs of all things.—W. L. Watkinson, “The Transfigured Sackcloth.”

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See Adversity.

STRUGGLE AND GROWTH

Life in crystals can be explained by the struggle for existence, which is ardent even here. In fact, if during their growth two crystals come into contact, the weaker will completely disappear, absorbed by the stronger.—Revue Scientifique.

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STUDY OVERDONE

When I see a morning procession of pallid schoolboys staggering to school under a load of text-books almost too heavy to be held together by the strap that encircles them, or a bevy of young girls, bound on the same educational errand, more pallid and more exhausted by the eight or ten pounds of torture in the shape of grammars, dictionaries, geographies, arithmetics, geometries and philosophies, they, too, tug along the streets, I wish their piles of knowledge might be reduced one-half, for I can not but feel that with fewer books there would be more culture, that too many studies produce too little scholarship, and that the intellect which is forced will rarely be expanded.—James T. Fields.

(3081)

Style—See Personal Element in Literature.

SUBCONSCIOUS ABSORPTION

Coleridge relates in his “Literaria Biographia” that in a Roman Catholic town in Germany a young woman who could neither read nor write was seized with a fever, during which, according to the priests, she was possest by a polyglot devil. For she talked Latin, Greek, and Hebrew, besides uttering sounds which, tho not understood by her hearers, had doubtless, meaning, but belonged to languages unknown to them. “Whole sheets of her ravings were written out,” says Coleridge, “and were found to consist of sentences intelligible in themselves, but having slight connection with each other.” Fortunately, a physician who, being skeptically inclined, was disposed to question the theory of the polyglot spirit, “determined to trace back the girl’s history. After much trouble he discovered that at the age of nine she had been charitably taken by an old Protestant pastor, a great Hebrew scholar, in whose house she lived till his death. On further inquiry, it appeared to have been the old man’s custom for years to walk up and down a passage of his house, into which the kitchen opened, and to read to himself in a loud voice out of his books. The books were ransacked, and among them were found several of the Greek and Latin fathers, together with a collection of rabbinical writings. In these works so many of the passages taken down at the young woman’s bedside were identified that there could be no reasonable doubt as to their source.”—Prof. Richard A. Proctor, New York Mail and Express.

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Subjects a Necessity—See Fame, Qualifying for.

SUBSTANCE AND SHADOW

When Elihu Root was about to enter the Roosevelt Cabinet as Secretary of State, a friend wrote to him: “Why not wait three years and get the substance instead of taking the shadow now?” in allusion to the presidency. Mr. Root replied: “I have always thought that the opportunity to do something worth doing was the substance and the trying to get something was the shadow.”

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SUBSTANCES, PENETRATING

Scientific men declare that there is no barricade like snow. A bullet fired from a distance of fifty yards will not penetrate a wall of snow a few feet thick, but the same missile passes through dense earthworks and shatters trees when discharged from a much greater distance. A bag of cotton is a much more efficient resistant than a steel plate. A swordsman can cut a sheep in two at a stroke, but he is baffled at once if he seeks to cut through a pillow of fine feathers. (Text.)

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SUBSTITUTION

The following incident, related by Edward Gilliat, illustrates the truth of Christ bearing our sins:

Louis XIII, finding the Brittany fleet too weak to attack La Rochelle, had ordered the Mediterranean galleys to pass through the Straits of Gibraltar. M. de Gondi put out to sea, but left ten galleys at Marseilles to be equipped and made up to their full numbers. But there were not enough galley-slaves to fill up the places, so prisoners from ordinary prisons were drafted in to serve on the galleys.

Among these latter Vincent de Paul noticed one young man who was sobbing and crying piteously. He asked him the cause of his misery, and was answered, “It is because I am leaving my wife and little children in great poverty; and now who will work for them? I have not deserved so great a punishment for my slight offense against the law.” The chaplain made further inquiries, found that the slave had spoken the truth, but, as the galley was on the point of starting, he could not get him reprieved. There was only one thing to be done; it was not lawful, but pity mastered prudence. He somehow managed to exchange places with the galley-slave, got himself chained to the seat, and sent off the prisoner in his soutane. He was not recognized until some time afterward, and hastened to leave Marseilles, as his biographer says, “more ashamed of his virtue than others of their vice.”—“Heroes of Modern Crusades.”

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More than eighty years ago a fierce war raged in India between the English and Tippoo Sahib. On one occasion several English officers were taken prisoners. Among them was one named Baird. One day the native officer brought in fetters to be put upon each of the prisoners, the wounded not excepted. Baird had been severely wounded and was suffering from pain and weakness.

A gray-haired officer said to the native official, “You do not think of putting chains upon that wounded man?”

“There are just as many pairs of fetters as there are prisoners,” was the answer, “and every pair must be worn.”

“Then,” said the noble officer, “put two pairs on me. I will wear his as well as my own.” This was done. Strange to say, Baird lived to regain his freedom, and lived to take that city; but his noble, unselfish friend died in prison.

Up to his death he wore two pairs of fetters. But what if he had worn the fetters of all the prisoners? What if, instead of being a captive himself, he had quitted a glorious palace, to live in their loathsome dungeon, to wear their chains, to bear their stripes, to suffer and die for them, that they might go free, and free forever? (Text.)

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Substitution Unacceptable—See Vicarious Salvation Impossible.

Subterfuges—See Reasons versus Excuses.

SUBTLETY

The fer-de-lance is found on the islands of Martinique and Santa Lucia. The basis of its gruesome reputation seems to be the fact that it does not warn the intruders of its haunts after the manner of the cobra or the rattlesnake, but flattens its coils and with slightly vibrating tail, awaits events.

If the unsuspecting traveler should show no sign of hostile intent he may be allowed to pass unharmed within two yards of the coiled matadore, but a closer approach is apt to be construed as a challenge, and the serpent, suddenly rearing its ugly head, may scare the trespasser into some motion of self-defense. He may lift his foot or brandish his stick in a menacing manner. If he does, he is lost. The lower coils will expand, bringing the business end, neck and all a few feet nearer; the head points like a leveled rifle, then darts forward with electric swiftness, guided by an unerring instinct for the selection of the least-protected parts of the body. (Text.)

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SUBTLETY AMONG ANIMALS

It is said that when wolves meditate an attack upon the wild horses of the Mexican plains they are very subtle in their maneuvers. First, two wolves come out of the woods and begin to play together like two kittens. They gambol about each other and run backward and forward. Then the herd of horses raise their frightened heads in readiness for a stampede. But the wolves seem to be so playful that the horses, after watching them a while, forget their fears and continue to graze, at perfect ease in their eating. Then the wolves, in their play, come nearer and nearer, while other wolves slowly and stealthily creep after them. Then suddenly the enemies encircle the herd, and with one lunge the doomed horses are in the pitiless grasp of the wily foe. They desperately fight a losing battle as the fierce brutes sink their fangs in the horses’ throats.

In a similar way evil companions seek to lay a snare for those whom they would entrap.

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SUCCESS

It often turns out that our apparent successes are really our undoing. Croake James tells this incident:

I was mightily delighted with the whim I was shown on a sign at a village not far from this capital, tho it is too serious a truth to excite one’s risibility. On one side is painted a man stark naked, with this motto: “I am the man who went to law and lost my cause.” On the reverse is a fellow all in tatters, looking most dismally with this motto: “I am the man who went to law and won my cause.” (Text.)—“Curiosities of Law and Lawyers.”

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A Nebraska woman won a prize of $250 for this essay on “What Constitutes Success,” written in competition with many others:

He has achieved success who has lived well, laughed often and loved much; who has gained the respect of intelligent men and the love of little children; who has filled his niche and accomplished his task; who has left the world better than he found it, whether by an improved poppy, a perfect poem or a rescued soul; who has never lacked appreciation of earth’s beauty or failed to express it; who has always looked for the best in others and given them the best he had; whose life was an inspiration; whose memory a benediction.

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SUCCESS AND CIRCUMSTANCES

I remember Thackeray saying to me, concerning a certain chapter in one of his books that the critics agreed in accusing of carelessness: “Careless? If I’ve written that chapter once, I’ve written it a dozen times—and each time worse than the last!” a proof that labor did not assist in his case. When an artist fails it is not so much from carelessness—to do his best is not only profitable to him, but a joy. But it is not given to every man—not, indeed, to any—to succeed whenever and however he tries. The best painter that ever lived never entirely succeeded more than four or five times; that is to say, no artist ever painted more than four or five masterpieces, however high his general average may have been, for such success depends on the coincidence, not only of genius and inspiration, but of health and mood and a hundred other mysterious contingencies.—Sir John Millais, Magazine of Art.

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SUCCESS BY EXPERIMENTATION

A few years ago the cotton-boll weevil, which had increased steadily from year to year, reached a point at which it destroyed in Texas over $30,000,000 worth of cotton in one season. Many men in southern Texas were bankrupted, cotton-planting was given up in certain places, and it looked as if this great wealth-producing industry were doomed in Texas and probably also in time over the entire South. The practical farmers were completely overwhelmed. Here the Department of Agriculture started three lines of experimentation; first, to find some other harmless insect or parasite that would destroy the boll weevil as the white scale had been destroyed in California; second, to develop a species of cotton that could resist weevil attack; and third, to find a method of cultivation that would lessen the injury of the attack of the weevil when made. The ants, which the department brought from South America to eat up the boll weevil, proved a failure, but the development of a better method of cultivation and the use of better adapted varieties of cotton proved so successful that Texas farmers now, following the methods worked out by the department investigators, again raise their magnificent crops of cotton, in spite of the boll weevil.—The Evening Post.

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SUCCESS FROM LABOR

“Paradise Lost” was finished in 1665, after seven years’ labor in darkness. With great difficulty Milton found a publisher, and for the great work, now the most honored poem in our literature, he received less than certain verse-makers of our day receive for a little song in one of our popular magazines. Its success was immediate, tho, like all his work, it met with venomous criticism.

The work stamped him as one of the world’s great writers, and from England and the Continent pilgrims came in increasing numbers to speak their gratitude.—William J. Long, “English Literature.”

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SUCCESS IN FAILURE

Success Magazine appropriately publishes these lines:

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See Failure Leading to Success.

SUCCESS INSPIRES CONFIDENCE

Because Paul Armstrong in five days wrote “Alias Jimmy Valentine,” a New York success, another play, as yet unread by Liebler & Co., has been accepted by that firm. The exact conversation confirming this business deal is worthy of recording because of the brevity of it. Mr. Armstrong called at the office of the managers just as Mr. George C. Tyler, the managing editor, was getting ready to leave for Rochester, where “A Certain Party” was to open.

“I have written a play,” said Mr. Armstrong.

“What is it called?” asked Mr. Tyler.

“It has no name,” said the author.

“How long did it take you to write it?” asked Mr. Tyler.

“Four days,” said Mr. Armstrong. “I wrote it in a day’s less time than ‘Jimmy Valentine.’”

“I’ll accept it,” said Mr. Tyler, and shook hands on the bargain.—Philadelphia Enquirer.

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SUCCESS TOO DEAR

Judge Baldwin, of Indiana, it is said, in giving his advice to lawyers upon one occasion, told them that the course to be pursued by a lawyer was first to get on, second to get honor, and third to get honest. A man who follows that policy, in my judgment, is not such a lawyer as should be let loose in politics. (Text.)—George M. Palmer.

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Success, Ultimate—See Experiment.

SUFFERING

Oberlin, the illustrious pastor of the Ban de la Roche, used the following figure in comforting the sorrow of an afflicted lady:

Dear madam, I have now before me two stones; they are alike in color, they are of the same water, clear, pure and clean. But there is a great difference between them; one has a dazzling brightness, the other is quite dull. What is the reason of this difference? The one has been carefully cut, the other hardly touched. Now, had these stones been endowed with life, so as to have been capable of feeling what they underwent, the one which had received eighty cuts would have thought itself very unhappy, and would have envied the fate of the other, which, having received but eight, had undergone but a tenth part of its own sufferings. Yet the stone which had suffered little is dim and lusterless; the stone which has suffered greatly shines forth in dazzling brilliancy.

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SUFFERING, FELLOWSHIP WITH CHRIST’S

John B. Tabb expresses the requirement laid on true disciples of Jesus, in this verse:

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SUFFERING FOR LOVE

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Suffering Ignored—See Heartless Pagans.

Suffering that Develops—See Adversity Helping Genius.

SUFFERING TRANSFORMED

Christ teaches us how, under the redemptive government of God, suffering has become a subtle and magnificent process for the full and final perfecting of human character. Science tells us how the bird-music, which is one of nature’s foremost charms, has arisen out of the bird’s cry of distress in the morning of time; how originally the music of field and forest was nothing more than an exclamation caused by the bird’s bodily pain and fear, and how through the ages the primal note of anguish has been evolved and differentiated until it has risen into the ecstasy of the lark, melted into the silver note of the dove, swelled into the rapture of the nightingale, unfolded into the vast and varied music of the sky and the summer. So Christ shows us that out of the personal sorrow which now rends the believer’s heart he shall arise in moral and infinite perfection; that out of the cry of anguish wrung from us by the present distress shall spring the supreme music of the future. (Text.)—W. L. Watkinson, “The Transfigured Sackcloth.”

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SUFFERING TURNED TO SONG

In Edinburgh when they were celebrating the life of Dr. George Matheson, the blind preacher, Robertson Nicoll said that he was the greatest Scotsman since Thomas Chalmers. Divide that statement in two in the middle, and you still have a great man. At twenty the youth left a surgeon’s office, with these words echoing in the porches of the ear, “Better see your friends quickly, for soon the darkness will settle, and you will see them no more forever.” Then his biographer tells us that the youth went on with his studies, by listening while others read or recited. Had Matheson been able to read early church history, he would have been a great scholar. Had he been able to read the story of the thinkers and system-builders, he would have been a great philosopher. But the greatest thing he ever did, it seems, was in life. We are told that there came a day when his visions dissolved, and he realized that he must go alone across the years. The storm tore down the perfumed vines that were climbing about the doorway of man’s soul. And the vine suffered grievously. But the youth coerced his lips to silence, went apart and hid himself for a day. When he came out it was with suffering turned to song. What will they celebrate as the blind preacher’s greatest achievement, in that memorial service in Edinburgh? Listen to the exploit of a faith-man, singing in the hour when love dwells amidst her ruins:

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SUFFERING UNIVERSAL

In the great earthquake which a large part of California experienced all animate nature suffered. For hours after the principal shock domestic animals manifested the utmost terror. Cattle lowed continuously; dogs barked long and lustily; cats crawled away and hid, and remained in hiding a large part of the day; and when they finally came forth, would crawl along crouching with bodies nearly touching the ground. Even the following night their fear had not left them. During the first half of the night we listened to a continuous chorus of howls and barkings, in which every dog in the city joined. About midnight the dogs ceased and the roosters took up the fear-inspired chant. It seemed as if every chicken in the city and surrounding country had joined this nocturnal orchestra, whose members scarcely stopt to take breath.