S (continued 4)
Reading edition
In driving along the road, the writer noticed a large flock of barn-swallows around a small mud-puddle in the middle of the road. As they alighted they kept their wings extended straight up in the air and fluttering, while they drove their bills almost fiercely into the mud. A bystander explained that all their nests had been shaken down and they were rebuilding. To them calamity had come in the loss of their nests, their eggs, and mayhap their little ones. This little indication of common suffering made the feathered family seem much closer to the human. (Text.)
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Suffering, Unnecessary—See Help Unrecognized.
Suffrage, Woman—See Retort, A.
SUGGESTION
A few years ago in a certain part of England the weather was so continuously beastly—that’s the term they used—that at last, wearying of looking at the barometers day after day, week in and week out, the entire inhabitants of a certain seaport town, in sheer disgust, gathered up their weather-glasses and dumped them into the old junk shops. Both the weather and the barometers flooded them with disagreeable suggestions. They could not do away with the weather, but they could with their barometers that seemed to serve no better purpose than to accentuate their discontent.—Robert MacDonald.
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Sometimes a word or phrase will do in literature what a sketch will do in charcoal, defining a character and suggesting a whole line of possibilities. An instance of this is in the following from Everybody’s Magazine:
After a certain jury had been out an inordinately long time on a very simple case, they filed into the court-room, and the foreman told the judge they were unable to agree upon a verdict. The latter rebuked them, saying the case was a very clear one, and remanded them back to the jury-room for a second attempt, adding, “If you are there too long I will have to send you in twelve suppers.”
The foreman, in a rather irritated tone, spoke up and said: “May it please your honor, you might send in eleven suppers and one bundle of hay.”
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See Negative Teaching.
Suggestion, Unhealthy—See Talking and Sickness.
SUICIDE PREVENTED
Some time since a young man who had spent his substance in riotous living was reduced to poverty. He wandered away from home, and being unable to support himself, he resolved upon self-destruction. He filled his pockets with lead, and, determined to drown himself, went to the river. Deciding to wait until dark, he was attracted by a light in the window of a house at no great distance, and went to it. The people were singing hymns. He listened at the door until a chapter from the Bible was read and prayer was offered to God. When the prayer was ended he knocked at the door and was admitted. The passage under consideration that evening was, “Do thyself no harm.” When the services were concluded the stranger asked them how they came to know his thoughts, for he had not mentioned his intention. The members of the meeting were equally surprized, as they had never before seen him. The young man then told them his design of taking his life and how he had been prevented. He became an eminent Christian. (Text.)
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SUMMER IN THE HEART
Springtime may lose its freshest tints, And autumn-leaves their gold. The bitter blast and snowy wreath May sweep across the wold; But the years are full of splendors That never will depart, For they shed eternal fragrance When there’s summer in the heart. The shadows linger on the earth, The sunbeams hide away; The sad mists fold their chill white hands About the face of day; The tumult and the rush of life Sound ay in street and mart; But they can not drown life’s music When there’s summer in the heart. The city towers are crumbling fast, And totter to their fall; The ivied castle on the height Shows many a ruined wall; But men build eternal buildings With strange and wondrous art; They are shrines for the immortals When there’s summer in the heart. —Montreal Star.
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Sun The, as a Witness—See Tests.
SUN, THE BUSINESS OF A
I remember walking in Switzerland, late in the evening in a raging thunder-storm. The darkness could be felt as well as the rain. Little points of light now and then by the roadside attracted my attention. On stopping to examine, there was a glowworm whose little flame had hollowed out of the immensity of darkness a small sphere of light, into which the grasses bent, all beaded with crystal drops. A most exquisite picture. Shelley speaks of a “glowworm golden in a dell of dew.” To go back to our camp-fire: After supper I stept down to the shore of the lake and there, far across its invisible surface, gleamed a little point of light. I knew that other campers were making themselves comfortable and happy in the little sphere of light and warmth which their fire had hollowed out of the all-embracing darkness.
Now, that precisely is the business of a sun. It is nothing more or less than a great fire built, as only God knows how, for the purpose of hollowing out of the eternal darkness and cold of space a sphere of light and warmth large enough for a group or family of worlds to live in. The sun is as purely a mechanical contrivance as your household fire. In fact, it is just that. Our sun is the family hearth, in whose light and heat our group of worlds live as in a home.—James H. Ecob.
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SUNDAY DESECRATION BY CHRISTIANS
Many years ago in Kyoto, Japan, the question was asked me, “Are there many Christians in America?” You can imagine how pathetic it was. I said, “Why do you ask that question?” My questioner was a fine, handsome, educated man, one of the finest of the Japanese type. He said, “Some years ago I became a Christian. I kept the finest store in Kyoto, as the tourists thought. I had gathered a great quantity of old relics from the temples and the homes that are so scarce now in Japan. I always used to keep my store closed on Sunday, but many Americans and Englishmen and Germans came through here and said, ‘If you can not open your store for us on Sunday, we will not trade with you, as we have to leave on Monday.’ By and by I had to keep my store open.” He has kept it open ever since, and he added, “My neighbor, the shoemaker, is a Christian, and keeps his store shut all the time on Sunday.” I suppose the reason was that there was not a large demand for Japanese shoes on the part of American and English travelers. That is a genuine touch of human nature.—Edward B. Sturges, “Student Volunteer Movement,” 1906.
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See Sabbath, Observing the.
Sunday Habit, A Bad—See Lying Around.
SUNDAY NEWSPAPERS
When Dr. Charles J. Young, pastor of the Church of the Puritans, New York, was waited upon by a lady reporter of a secular journal, for a snappy article on the subject of Sunday newspapers, this is what she got:
“As a matter of fact,” said Dr. Young, “I actually believe in the Ten Commandments as divine enactments, and this is how I feel about it: Suppose you invite me as a friend to dine at your house and I accept. You would make special preparation for my coming. It is woman’s way to give her best where she gives her confidence and friendship. So there you have a rich repast all ready against my coming. Now imagine my stopping at a street corner on the way to your home and gorging myself from the peanut-stand of the noble Roman who deals out his wares to all who come without a care of the consequences; I ask this common-sense question: What condition would I be in to enjoy your luscious viands, and what kind of courtesy or appreciation would this be for all your kindness in preparing for me? Well, my friend, you see the application of this without my making it. There across the street stands the house of the dearest Friend I have ever had. One day out of seven He invites me there to meet with Him and to commune with Him and to receive from Him such supply as He has especially provided and adapted to my hungry, needy, immortal soul. I ask again, is it consistent with a spiritual worship, is it conducive to a devotional mind, is it either courteous to God or just to myself, if on the morning of that sacred day I fill my thoughts with the secularities, the commercialisms, the gossips, the scandal, the general excrescences of every-day rough-and-tumble life in this mammon-loving age?
“My interviewer was silent for a surprizing length of time. Maybe I was wrong, but I fancied she looked up from the floor with a moistened eye and said in a quivering voice: ‘I have never thought of this view of the matter before, and I confess I am able now to see but one fair answer to your question: It can not be.’”—Sunday-school Illustrator.
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SUNDAY RECORDED
Rev. Egerton R. Young tells of a big Indian chieftainess who came to see him one day. Her people lived a fortnight’s journey away, but she had heard of the paleface and his wife, who, with their wonderful Book, had come to live down among the Saulteaux. She did not believe what she heard but she came to find out. Her curiosity and her desire to learn were both insatiable. She would talk morning, noon and night. At last she was returning, satisfied that what the paleface said was true and determining to go back to pray to the true God. Mr. Young said to her, “Now, if you are going back to live as a Christian, you must keep one day in seven as God’s day. Do not attend to worldly matters on that day, but worship God.” He gave her a sheet of paper and told her each day to make a mark so | until there were six of them | | | | | |, and then to make a big heavy mark I, and when that day came, to leave the gun and the rifle quiet in the wigwam. He told her to work hard on Saturday, to get enough food for Sunday, so she could be free to think about the Great Spirit and pray to the living Father.
Five months later Mr. Young made his first visit to the tribe of this great chieftainess, and she drew from her bosom a soiled, greasy paper, on which was the record of the days as he had bidden her to keep them, and she knew just how many days more must be counted before the next “praying day” should come. (Text.)
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Sunday Rules—See Pew, If I Were in the.
SUNDAY-SCHOOL IN EARLY DAYS
I have a very definite picture of my own grandmother, when quite advanced in years, patiently teaching one or two illiterates to spell and to read, in the Sunday-school of an Episcopal church in a little country village in Vermont, where she was then residing; and as late as 1837 one object of the Sunday-school Society of Ireland was “to supply spelling-books and copies of the Scriptures” to the various Sunday-schools of the island. In fact, most of the early work was the teaching of reading and morality, and the Sunday-school was a sort of mission school among the unfortunate, the vicious, and the illiterate. Others did not attend, and it was only by very definite effort that the change to the present status was finally brought about. I remember hearing an army officer say that as late as 1845, in central New York, where he then resided as a boy of some twelve years of age, he was soundly whipt by his father because he had exprest his unwillingness to attend one of the “ragged schools”—as the Sunday-schools in his vicinity were then called; and he added that his impressions of the low caste of the school were so definite that he took his whipping like a man and without complaint.—James H. Canfield, “Proceedings of the Religious Education Association,” 1904.
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Sunday-school Missionary Work—See Boys’ Missionary Efforts.
SUNDAY WORK DISCONTINUED
Over four years ago the Chicago and Northwestern Railway Company decided to carry no more Sunday excursions; to run only such Sunday freight trains as were necessary to carry live stock and certain perishable goods; and to stop all Sunday work in freight-yards and sheds for twelve hours every Sunday.
There was great opposition to this action. A boycott was threatened by brewers and other shippers, while the adverse criticisms were abundant and scathing.
The last annual report of this railway gives striking endorsement as to the success of this policy of reduction of Sunday business. We are informed that the financial profits of the roads have increased 100 per cent during these four years; also, that last year not one life was lost on the whole line covering several thousand miles, with its many fast express, mail and freight trains; and there are practically no complaints from shippers and receivers of freight as to delays for cars, or delivery of goods.—The Christian Statesman.
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See Sabbath, Observing the.
SUNLIGHT AND STARLIGHT
There is a Sun of Righteousness, before whose shining all the lesser human lights are dimmed, as starlight by the sunshine.
The extinction of “starlight” in the daylight is not due to the vapors of the atmosphere, but to the stronger vibrations of sunlight, which prevent our eyes perceiving the weaker vibrations of the starlight, exactly as a stronger sound, say a cannon-shot, prevents us from hearing a smaller noise, say a mouse piping; or, as is well known, a larger disturbance in water extinguishes a smaller one. The smaller noise, the smaller sound waves, and the smaller light vibrations are not perceived by our senses when the greater impressions or disturbances occupy them. (Text.)
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SUNDAY-SCHOOL STATISTICS
From the United States “Bureau of Census” Bulletin 103 are taken the following statistics of Sunday-schools in the continental United States:
Of the 178,214 Sunday-schools conducted by church organizations, 165,128, or 92.7 per cent., are returned by the Protestant bodies; 11,172 or 6.3 per cent. by the Roman Catholic Church and 1,914, or 1.1 per cent., by the remaining bodies.
Among the Protestant bodies, the Methodist bodies rank first, with 57,464 Sunday-schools, or 32.2 per cent. of the total, and the Baptist bodies come next with 43,178 or 24.2 per cent. of the total the two families together reporting considerably more than one-half the entire number of denominational Sunday-schools. If to these be added the Presbyterian bodies, with 14,452 Sunday-schools, the Lutheran bodies with 9,450, and the Disciples or Christians with 8,078, the 5 bodies combined report 132,622 Sunday-schools or nearly three-fourths (74.4 per cent.) of the entire number and more than four-fifths (80.3 per cent.) of all those reported by Protestant bodies.
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Sunday School, The, As a Seed—See Needs, Meeting Children’s.
SUNDAY-SCHOOLS IN THE UNITED STATES
DENOMINATION ORGANIZATIONS REPORTING SUNDAY-SCHOOLS SUNDAY-SCHOOLS REPORTED SUNDAY-SCHOOL OFFICERS AND TEACHERS SUNDAY-SCHOOL SCHOLARS
Number Per ct. of total Number Per ct. distri-bution Number Per ct. distri-bution Number Per ct. distri-bution
All denominations 167,574 79.0 178,214 100.0 1,648,664 100.0 14,685,997 100.0
Protestant bodies 156,437 80.0 165,128 92.7 1,564,821 94.9 13,018,434 88.6
Adventist bodies 2,078 81.5 2,242 1.3 14,286 0.9 69,110 0.5
Baptist bodies 41,165 75.0 43,178 24.2 323,473 19.6 2,898,914 19.7
Christians (Christian Connection) 1,136 82.4 1,149 0.6 10,510 0.6 72,963 0.5
Church of Christ, Scientist 550 86.2 551 0.3 3,155 0.2 16,116 0.1
Congregationalist 5,327 93.2 5,741 3.2 75,801 4.6 638,089 4.3
Disciples or Christians 7,901 72.2 8,078 4.5 70,476 4.3 634,504 4.3
Dunkers or German Bapt. Brethren. 866 78.9 1,223 0.7 10,789 0.7 78,575 0.5
Evangelical bodies 2,454 89.6 2,549 1.4 32,113 1.9 214,998 1.5
Friends 846 73.8 887 0.5 7,735 0.5 53,761 0.4
German Evangelical Synod of N. A. 1,086 90.1 1,111 0.6 12,079 0.7 116,106 0.8
Independent churches 826 76.6 922 0.5 6,732 0.4 57,680 0.4
Lutheran bodies 8,682 68.3 9,450 5.3 83,891 5.1 782,786 5.3
Mennonite bodies 411 68.0 439 0.2 5,041 0.3 44,922 0.3
Methodist bodies 55,227 85.4 57,464 32.2 569,296 34.5 4,472,930 30.5
Presbyterian bodies 13,048 84.1 14,452 8.1 176,647 10.7 1,511,175 10.3
Protestant Episcopal Church 5,211 76.1 5,601 3.1 51,048 3.1 464,351 3.2
Reformed bodies 2,345 90.7 2,588 1.5 38,710 2.3 361,548 2.5
Unitarians 358 77.7 364 0.2 3,592 0.2 24,005 0.2
United Brethren bodies 3,777 87.8 3,870 2.2 42,169 2.6 301,320 2.1
Universalists 596 70.4 600 0.3 6,585 0.4 42,201 0.3
Other Protestant bodies 2,547 68.9 2,669 1.5 20,693 1.3 162,380 1.1
Roman Catholic Church 9,406 75.4 11,172 6.3 62,470 3.8 1,481,535 10.1
Jewish congregations 561 31.7 600 0.3 2,239 0.1 49,514 0.3
Latter-day Saints 1,036 87.5 1,169 0.7 18,507 1.1 130,085 0.9
SUNS, THE SIZE OF
How large are some of our neighbor suns? Alpha Centauri, our nearest neighbor, with its double sun, gives twice as much light as we receive; great Sirius equals sixty-three of our suns; the Pole Star eighty-six. “Think of an eighty-fold sun. However, some are still more astonishing: Vega blazes with the light of three hundred and forty-four suns; Capella with the light of four hundred and thirty; Arcturus with the light of five hundred and sixteen, while mighty Alcyone, the glorious center around which we all, suns and worlds, are supposed to circle, blazes with the light of twelve thousand of our suns!” If our little sun can boast of a family with worlds of such beauty and greatness as Venus and Earth and glorious Saturn and mighty Jupiter, how shall we measure the number, the splendor and the magnitude of the worlds which circle about such centers as Sirius, Vega, Capella, Arcturus and Alcyone?—James H. Ecob.
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SUNSHINE
The sunshine of Persia forms one of its greatest attractions. The natives are very much alarmed when an eclipse of the sun takes place, as they are afraid they are going to lose their benefactor. A Persian gentleman once visited England, and on his return to his native country was questioned by his friends as to which was the better land to live in. His reply was to the effect that in England the houses were grander, the scenery more beautiful, but that there was no sunshine.
A worldly life may have more show, but the Christian life has more shine. (Text.)
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SUNSHINE IN THE CHURCH
On Mount Sinai, in a noted convent, is the chapel of the Burning Bush. A feature of this chapel is a window so situated that the sun shines through it only on one day in every year.
But the church that would really light human life must have sunshine in all its windows every day in the year.
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SUNSHINE, SCATTERING
During the “cotton famine” in Lancashire, England, in 1865, just after our civil war, one of the mill-owners called his operatives together and told them he must close the mills. It meant poverty to him and ruin to them. Flickering hope sank in black despair. Presently a delicate, sweet girl, thin and pale with suffering—she was a Sunday-school teacher—started and sang two stanzas of this hymn:
Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take, The clouds ye so much dread, Are big with mercy, and shall break In blessings on your head. Judge not the Lord by feeble sense, But trust Him for His grace; Behind a frowning providence, He hides a smiling face.
A sunburst of hope came over the despairing company when the touching and comforting strain was ended. It proved a prophecy. The proprietor determined to struggle on a while longer, and soon the mill was running again at full work.
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See Cheer, Signals of.
Sunstroke, Warding Off—See Protection.
SUPERIOR MEN
Without the presence of the superior man, the “paradise of the average man,” as this country has been called, would become a purgatory to all those who care chiefly, not for success, but for freedom and power and beauty. One of the greatest privileges of the average man is to recognize and honor the superior man, because the superior man makes it worth while to belong to the race by giving life a dignity and splendor which constitute a common capital for all who live. The respect paid to men like Washington and Lincoln, Marshall and Lee, Poe and Hawthorne, affords a true measure of civilization in a community.—Hamilton Fish Mabie.
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SUPERIORITY OF POSITION
In Java sitting down is a mark of respect; in the Mariana Islands the inferior squats to speak to a superior who would consider himself degraded by sitting in the presence of one who should be objectively as well as figuratively “below” him. The punctilios relating to the fundamental rule that rank is defined by elevation are carried to absurdity in the Orient. When an English carriage was procured for the Rajah of Lombok, it was found impossible to use it because the driver’s seat was the highest, and for the same reason successive kings of Ava refused to ride in the carriages presented to them by ambassadors. In Burmah, that a floor overhead should be occupied would be felt as a degradation, contrary to civilized ideas that the lower stories are the most honorable. In Siam, on the principle that no man can raise his head to the level of his superiors, he must not cross a bridge if one of higher rank chances to be passing below, and no mean person may walk upon a floor above that occupied by his betters.—Garrick Mallery, Popular Science Monthly.
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SUPERSTITION
There is a man named Uonosuke Yamamoto, whose daily vocation for fifty years has been to gather up and to sell at a high price all the dust which is left in the Kannon temple in Asakusa by the thousands of visitors who daily go there to worship.
The superstitious purchasers sprinkle small patches of this dust in front of their own doors, believing it will bring them blessings and immunity from plague and famine.
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The rude and unread of past ages have always connected natural phenomena with supernatural agencies, adoring the sun and the moon with altar fires on high places and in groves, of which the witches’ Sabbath was a fancied descendant; and even in the twelfth century there were remnants of these forms in the fire-worship supposed to be led by old women, one of whom was called the night-queen, and who, as old women will, cherished traditions and forms to such an extent that the bishops were finally ordered to have them watched. It was but a little more than three hundred years ago when it was generally believed that the appearance of a huge comet was the work of Satan, and its disappearance was the work of the Church. Perhaps we have not left all these follies quite behind us yet. People who nowadays make a wish at the first sight of the evening star, expecting to receive the thing wished for, who are particular about seeing the new moon, not through glass, and with silver in their pockets, and who hold that the position of the slender horn signifies either a dry month or a wet one, as it may be—such people have hardly any right to call in question the demonology believed in by the people of the Middle Ages and the old dames of later days.—Harper’s Bazar.
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“Refuse old wives’ fables,” is a good Biblical rule. Christianity is slowly dispelling such foolish beliefs as the following:
There are still some places where people believe a felon on the finger is caused by having pointed the finger at the moon, and that some headaches are caused by having one’s hair cut while the moon is crescent.
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“They who believe not in God will believe in ghosts.” This is the nature of superstition, of which these Tahitians are an example:
The Tahitians had great confidence in the power of red feathers, attributing large success in fishing to their presence on the canoes, but had little conception of the soul or of duty; and, while faithless toward God, they were credulous toward the most absurd imposture, placing their trust in fortune-tellers, dreams, and signs of good or ill luck.—Pierson, “The Miracles of Missions.”
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Fishermen the world over are as prone to superstition as sailors are, and many curious notions prevail among them as to what shall be done to court luck in their catches.
One of the strangest notions in this respect is that held by the Indians in British Columbia. With great ceremony and solemnity these red men go out to meet “the first salmon,” endeavoring in flattering tones to win the favor of the fish by addressing them as “great chiefs.”
The salmon fisheries in California used to be responsible for a queer custom on the part of the Indians. Every spring they would “dance for salmon.” If the fish did not appear with that celerity deemed appropriate there would be employed a “wise man,” who made an image of a swimming fish which was placed in the water in the hope of attracting live fish to the bait.
The Japanese fishermen have the quaint notion that silence must be observed, and even the women left at home are not permitted to talk lest the fish should hear and disapprove. Among the members of the primitive race of the Ainos, the first fish caught is brought in through a window instead of a door, so that the other fish “may not see.”
Among the Eskimos it is held that bad luck will come should their women sew while the men are fishing. If the necessity for mending arises the women must do the job shut up in little tents out of sight of the fishermen.
The fishermen off the northeast coast of Scotland will, under no circumstances, allow a fisherman at sea to make mention of certain objects on land, such as, for instance, “dog,” “swine,” “cow,” etc. If on land chickens are not to be counted before they are hatched, so at sea fish must not be counted till the catch be completed. The Scots think that it is good luck to find a rat gnawing at a net; also a horseshoe nailed to the mast will help; but the greatest good luck of all is to see a mouse aboard.—Harper’s Weekly.
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See Barriers; Deceit with God; Eye, The Evil; Fear; Junk; Spiritistic Phenomena; Thirteen Superstition, The; Witches, Belief in.
SUPERSTITION CONDEMNED
The belief that a particular house or day or gem is “unlucky” and fraught with evil runs counter to any rational theory of the government of the universe. How can those who believe in the rule of a Supreme Being—a conscious and just and omniscient intelligence—picture their God as capable of such caprice, such impish malevolence, as to make one dwelling out of ten thousand fatefully “unlucky” to its inhabitants, or to visit with misfortune those of his creatures who break a looking-glass or who start on a journey on a Friday—an artificial designation in a mushroom calendar news of which can hardly yet have reached the dial of the skies? Or, accepting the other theory of a government of law, is it conceivable that the ordainments of immutable nature are subject to whimsical and malevolent manipulations to harass and distress human beings? Civilized voodooism is an impugnment of the Power that rules the universe. It is degrading to the intellect of man. It is an affront to common sense.—New York World.
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Superstition Overcome—See Intelligence Outdoing Ignorance.
Superstitions, Chinese—See Earthquake, Superstitions About.
SUPPLIES, BRINGING UP
A citizen noticed a medal on the breast of a soldier. “You have been in the war, I see,” he said. “Yes,” he replied. “I’ve been through one war, and that accounts for my medal.” “In what battles did you fight?” The soldier smiled and said, “I was never at the front; my business was to bring up supplies.”
Many a man or woman will never get to the front of a great pitched battle, but he or she can help to win the victory by “bringing up the supplies.” Out of sight, in the rear of the fighters, we can bring up supplies to aid their efforts.
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Supply According to Capacity—See Capacity Limiting Supply.
SUPPLY AND DEMAND
The story is told of a tramp who came to a certain valley, which was inundated by a freshet in a river. There was a great demand for help to carry persons and property in boats to a place of safety. The tramp threw down the bundle, which contained all he had in the world, and declared: “This is my harvest.” He demanded ten dollars a day, and went to work at that rate. This was true philosophy. He kept out of the labor market until the “conjuncture” of supply and demand was all on his side, and then he went in.—Prof. William G. Sumner, The Independent.
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Support by Faith of Others—See Dependence.
SURFACE LIVES
There is plenty of light and heat in the desert. The occasional oases that cheer the traveler show that the soil is rich enough to grow vegetation. Water is the one thing it needs to make it a fertile garden. Sometimes a few feet beneath the surface there flows a river. If the parched and fainting pilgrim would pause and dig deep enough he might find the cool, clear water that would quench his thirst and help to save his life.
So many a man is content to live on the surface of life and suffer thirst of soul, whereas, if he would “let down his bucket for a draught,” the deeps of better inspiration—a true water of life—might always be reached. (Text.)
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SURGERY, IMPROVEMENT IN
Within our own time, another great man of the Washington type, Count Cavour, has been slain by medical bleeding precisely as Washington was. The worse Cavour grew, the more his doctors bled him, and he finally succumbed under the treatment, in the flower of his age and in the midst of his usefulness. It is, therefore, not unfair to conclude that the final cessation of a practise so barbarous, so opposed to common sense, has been due to the increase of physiological knowledge and to that increased reliance on nature and careful nursing, and diminished reliance on “physic,” which is the result of this knowledge, and that its continuance in any country is simply a sign of a low condition of medical research. The advance in conservative surgery has been simply enormous. The great operations have been robbed of their terrors, and with their terrors of much of their danger, and nothing has made more progress than contrivances for preventing the loss of blood. In fact, in the practise of to-day there is nothing of which so much care is taken as of the patient’s blood. Not only is he left in possession of all he has already got, but every pains is taken to increase his supply of it. Nobody “lets blood” now but assassins, and “toughs” and suicides—a curious sign of progress, but a sign of progress it is.—New York Evening Post.
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SURGERY IN KOREA
Medical science in Korea is wofully deficient. Native doctors have but two instruments—a little flat knife-blade and a long, sharp knitting-needle-like instrument. The former is used for bleeding or scraping, and the latter for plunging into the body to make an exit for the disease devil. It is always surgically dirty and a joint is a favorite place for its insertion. Septic conditions arise which render the joints permanently immovable. Medical missionaries are continually called upon to give aid to children of from eight to twelve years of age with stiffened knees or elbows.
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SURPRIZES IN BOOKS
There are the “pleasant surprizes” of publishing—books undertaken with the expectation of about paying expenses that have soared away to the hundred-thousand mark. Others are “undertaken because they are known to be works of great merit, and while the publisher may not have much hope of a satisfactory result, there is a chance that the merit of the book may in time make an impression on the public.” Then there are those undertaken because “they strike a new note in literature, which may receive the appreciation of the public.” “David Harum” is called “the greatest surprize.” Seven or eight publishers had declined the book, and only two persons in the house accepting it had much hope that it would pay expenses. For six months after publication a few thousand copies were disposed of; its ultimate sale was nearly a million.—Appleton’s Magazine.
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Surrender, Total—See Reservation.
Survey, The Larger—See Point of View.
SURVIVAL
Mr. Vernon L. Kellogg gives the imaginary feelings of a minute scale that infests oranges during their growth, on finding out that he and his kind were the common prey of the orange beetle:
He soon learned that of all the orange-dwellers who are born, only a very, very few escape the beetles and other devouring beasts who pursue them. And he was highly indignant when one shrewd orange-dweller told him that it really was a good thing for the race of orange-dwellers that so many of them were killed. “For,” the shrewd orange-dweller said, “if all of us who are born should live and have families, and not die until old age came on, there would soon be so many of us that we should eat all the orange-trees in the world, and then we should all starve to death.” And this is quite true.—“Insect Stories.”
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SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST
“Among every hundred men who become firemen only seventeen are ever made engineers,” says Warren S. Stone, chief of the Brotherhood of Locomotive Engineers, one of the most powerful labor organizations in the world. “Out of every one hundred engineers only six ever get passenger runs. The next time you see a white-haired man on the cab of a big passenger locomotive don’t wonder at all at his white hair, but make up your mind that he has the goods or he wouldn’t be there. It is a case of the selection and the survival of the fittest. It takes nerve to run the fast trains these days, for you sit at your throttle, tearing across the country at the rate of more than a mile a minute, and if any one of a dozen people, down to the man who spiked the rails, has made a mistake you ride to certain death.”
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See Nature’s Aggressiveness.
SUSPICION
Two promoters once called on Mr. Russell Sage to try to interest him in a certain scheme. They talked to the great financier about an hour. Then they took their leave, having been told that Mr. Sage’s decision would be mailed to them in a few days. “I believe we’ve got him,” said the first promoter hopefully, on the way uptown. “I don’t know,” rejoined the other. “He seems very suspicious.” “Suspicious?” said the first. “What makes you think he was suspicious?” “Didn’t you notice,” was the reply, “how he counted his fingers after I had shaken hands with him?”—New Orleans States.
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The people who make it their chief business in life to see that they are not imposed upon very frequently wrong others in their over-eagerness to maintain their rights. The following incident has a valuable lesson for all impulsive folk who are also a little inclined to suspect the motives of other people.
A countryman, says an exchange, came into a village store with a very angry demeanor. “Look here,” he began sharply, “I bought a paper of nutmegs here yesterday, and when I got home I found ’em mor’n half walnuts. And there is the young villain I bought ’em of,” he added, pointing to the proprietor’s son.
“John,” said the father, “did you sell this man walnuts for nutmegs?”
“No, sir,” was the ready response.
“You needn’t lie about it,” exclaimed the farmer, still further enraged by the young man’s assurance.
“Now, look here,” said John, with a good-natured smile, “if you had taken the trouble to weigh your nutmegs, you would have found that I put walnuts in extra.
“Oh, you gave them to me, did you?” asked the man in a somewhat mollified tone.
“Yes, sir; I threw in a handful for the children.”
“Well, if you ain’t a good one!” the man remarked, with restored good humor. “An’ here I’ve been making an idiot of myself. Just put me up a pound of tea, will ye. I’ll stop and weigh things next time.”
(3136)
Swearing—See Conscience; Oaths.
SWEARING A WASTE OF CHARACTER
General Washington, in an order issued August 3, 1776, said: “The general is sorry to be informed that the foolish and wicked practise of profane cursing and swearing, a vice hitherto little known in an American army, is growing into fashion. He hopes the officers will, by example as well as influence, endeavor to check it, and that both they and the men will reflect that we can have little hope of the blessing of heaven on our army if we insult it by our impiety and folly. Added to this, it is a vice so mean and low, without any temptation, that every man of sense and character detests and despises it.” Swearing is a great waste of character!
James says: “But above all things, my brethren (and my Juniors), swear not; neither by heaven, neither by the earth, neither by any other oath; but let your yea be yea, and your nay be nay; lest ye fall into condemnation.” Swearing is a great loss of soul! James asks you to be specially watchful against the habit of swearing. “Above all things”—that is, you will find it more difficult to keep from this sin than it is to keep from many other besetting sins.
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If Satan can not get a boy or girl to swear with the tongue, he will try to get a swear through the hands or feet. Slamming a door when you are mad is hand-swearing. When you have been corrected and go out of the room as tho each step would put holes in the floor you are foot-swearing. Sometimes a swear spreads over the face like a cloud across the sky. Swearing is a great loss of happiness!—J. M. Farrar.
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See Self-restraint.
SWEARING A WASTE OF TIME
Swearing is a great waste of time. Stop the leak in the kettle. This kettle is an hour with sixty drops of time in it. If there is a leak in the kettle the little drops of time will be lost. Sixty drops and the hour-kettle is empty. Swearing is a bad habit and will surely wear a hole in the kettle. It is difficult to swear without getting angry. Sometimes the kettle is emptied before the hole is made. How? Anger starts the kettle boiling and time runs over and is lost. Swearing is a great waste of time! In sixty minutes of temper an hour has run over.—J. M. Farrar.
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Wednesday, April 27, was Grant’s birthday. Some one told the following interesting story about him: “While sitting with him at the camp-fire late one night, after every one else had gone to bed, I said to him: ‘General, it seems singular that you have gone through all the trouble of army service and frontier life and have never been provoked into swearing. I have never heard you utter an oath or use an imprecation.’
“‘Well, somehow or other, I never learned to swear,’ he replied. ‘When a boy I seemed to have an aversion to it, and when I became a man I saw the folly of it. I have always noticed, too, that swearing helps to arouse a man’s anger; and when a man flies into a passion, his adversary, who keeps cool, always gets the better of him. In fact, I never could see the use of swearing. I think it is the case with many people who swear excessively that it is a mere habit, and that they do not mean to be profane; but, to say the least, it is a great waste of time.’”—J. M. Farrar.
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SWIFTNESS OF BIRDS
The inexperienced gunner will declare emphatically that any old bird can fly at least a mile a second, but science is of the opinion that the swift, the most speedy bird of all, can make but 250 miles an hour. The swallow can cover ninety-two miles in an hour and the eider-duck ninety miles. All birds of prey are necessarily rapid in their flight; the eagle can attain a speed of 140 miles per hour and the hawk 150 miles. The flight of most migratory birds does not exceed fifty miles an hour, and the crow can accomplish but twenty-five.
A falcon belonging to Henry IV of France escaped from Fontainebleau and was found at Malta twenty-four hours later, having covered a distance of at least 1,530 miles. Sir John Ross, on October 6, 1850, dispatched from Assistance Bay two young carrier-pigeons, one of which reached its dove-cote in Ayrshire, Scotland, on the 13th. This was comparatively slow time for the distance, two thousand miles. It is probable that flights which have occasioned astonishment by greatly exceeding the average have been materially assisted by aerial currents moving in the same direction.—Harper’s Weekly.
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SWINDLING
An instance of “high finance,” under the guise of religion, is set forth by the daily press in the case of one, Carl Helmstadt, of whom this is said:
The detectives report an instructive conversation with this man, who tells clergymen he is a brand from the burning and needs their prayers for deliverance.
“How many ministers have you swindled?” the detective asked Helmstadt.
“Oh, I don’t know how many.”
“More than one hundred?”
“Sure,” answered Helmstadt. “Why not? We kneel down and pray together, and we both weep. Then I tell them I feel greatly relieved, spiritually. Then I sting them for a few dollars.”
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SYMBOL OF LIFE
Men talk sometimes as if the passage of a ship through the sea or a bird through the air is a fit symbol of man’s passage through this world. I do not think so. A better symbol would be the passage of a plow through the soil leaving a furrow behind. What does the furrow include? All the memory of every beautiful picture and landscape you have ever seen. It includes the memory of every experience, every sweet association, every tie of love, whether of father, mother, wife or children. All these, whether living or dead, speak to you. They have a voice, a language that you will understand.—George L. Perin.
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Symbol of Life, The Tree a—See Tree a Spiritual Symbol.
Symbol of Sacrifice—See Memorial of Lincoln.
SYMBOL, POWER OF A
The waving folds of an American flag are credited with saving a house in the midst of the fire following the earthquake in San Francisco in April, 1906. The house stands at 1654 Taylor Street. As the fire crept up to it, its owner determined it should go gloriously and ran up a flag on the roof pole. The eaves had caught fire, but a company of the Twentieth United States Infantry, under a lieutenant, passing a block away, saw the banner waving proudly amid the smoke. “A house that flies a flag like that is worth saving,” is the expression the narrator puts on the lips of the young officer. The men ran to the place, beat off the flames and saved the house.
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SYMBOLIC PREACHING
A good example of symbolic preaching is afforded in the following descriptions of a sermon by a Chinese evangelist named Li, of Changsha, China, on the value of the soul:
Mr. Li began by describing a clock, without naming it, calling it dead and yet alive. He showed that it has all the parts of a living mechanism, but that this mechanism is dead; without two great essentials. The clock was then shown to the audience and they were led to see that a spring is the source of power, but that power must be applied to the spring before the mechanism does its work. The preacher skilfully illustrated by these facts the importance of the soul, and the relation which it bears on the one hand to man and on the other to God. About twenty minutes were devoted to this illustration, after which the preacher quoted a number of texts from the Scriptures bearing upon the teaching of the value of the soul.—G. E. Dawson, Missionary Review of the World.
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SYMBOLISM
In Japanese art every flower has a meaning. Certain flowers must never be seen together. Certain others must never be seen apart. Then, again, everything goes in threes—blossoms, boughs, or sprays. Even furniture has a meaning. The details of this etiquette are endless, and, to the Occidental mind, bewildering, unless one “has an imagination”—or, at least, an esthetic sense to which its poetic features can appeal.—Marshall P. Wilder, “Smiling ’Round the World.”
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SYMBOLS
The Chinese claim that they do not worship the idol in their devotions, but rather the thought or the spirit that the idol represents. So they worship at the shrine of “Long Life,” “Happiness,” “Offspring,” “Ancestors,” “Agriculture,” “Heaven,” “Earth,” “Rain,” “Sunshine.” The bat means happiness; the peach, long life; the pomegranate, many children; the dragon, power; indeed, everything has its significance. This explains their designs upon cloth, embroideries, cloisonne, and porcelain, every figure and stroke having its meaning. The material thing represents a thought.
Is there not a legitimate use of symbols? And may they not be made to have a language that speaks through the senses to the soul?
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Symbols may have value to those who can interpret them, even if we can not:
An American lady was at a dinner party with Mr. Li Lo, the eminent Chinese philosopher, when she said:
“May I ask why you attach so much importance to the dragon in your country? You know there is no such creature, don’t you? You have never seen one?”
“My dear madam,” graciously answered the great Chinaman, “why do you attach so much importance to the Goddess of Liberty on your coins? You know there is no such lady, don’t you? You have never seen her, have you?”
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Symbols Interpreting Realities—See Realities, Invisible.
SYMBOLS, THE VALUE OF
In a private letter, written to a local paper by a resident of Cazenovia, N. Y., who is dwelling in Japan, the following was related:
I must tell a story connected with the visit of our American fleet. One day, just as some of the troops were marching to the railroad station, an enormous arch which stood just in front of the station took fire. Instantly one of the Japanese soldiers climbed to the top and brought down the United States flag that hung over in his direction. No greater act of courtesy could be performed, according to Japanese ideas than to save our flag from harm. But when without a moment’s delay, one of our blue-jackets ran up the other side of the arch, as tho it were the rigging of a ship, and snatched the Japanese flag just before it fell, tho his hands were scorched and he was nearly choked by smoke from the burning evergreen, the crowds nearly went wild with excitement and could not stop cheering.
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SYMPATHY
When the great steamer receives its cargo the captain must correct the compass, neutralizing the influence of the iron cargo in the hold. And sympathy keeps the needle of justice turned toward the star, corrects the aberrations of the intellect.—N. D. Hillis.
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Dr. Dunning, of the Congregationalist, tells of a very near friend of his who visited Tiffany’s great jewelry store in New York. He was shown a magnificent diamond with its gleaming yellow light, and many other splendid stones. As he went along he saw one jewel that was perfectly lusterless, and he said: “That has no beauty about it at all.” But the friend with him put it in the hollow of his hand and shut his hand, and then in a few moments opened it, and he said: “What a surprize! There was not a place on it the size of a pinhead that did not gleam with the splendor of the rainbow.” And then he said: “What have you been doing with it?” His friend answered: “This is an opal. It is what we call the sympathetic jewel. It only needs contact with the human hand to bring out its wonderful beauty.”
Doctor Dunning adds: “All childhood needs is that the human hand should touch it, and it will gleam with all the opalescent splendor that can shine from heavenly minds.”
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There are songs enough for the heroes, Who dwell on the heights of fame; I sing of the disappointed, Of one who has missed his aim. I sing with a tearful cadence, Of one who stands in the dark, And knows that his last, last arrow Has bounded back from the mark. For the hearts that break in silence, With a sorrow all unknown; For those who need companions, Yet must walk their way alone.
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See Acting, Actor Affected by; Kinship; Rapport.
SYMPATHY BY PLEASURE-GOERS
London to-night (May 6, 1910), with King Edward lying dead, is a despairing city. While the sun shone a dash more brilliantly than it has yet done on any day this year, the people seemed to extract the utmost particle of hope which the medical bulletins could be made to convey. But evening came cold, dismal, with rain drizzling from heavy skies, and the crowds lost heart. Long before the final news came—soon, indeed, after the issue of the later reports announcing that the King’s condition was most grave and that the hoped-for improvement had not set in, the streets were practically empty.
It was curious to see how outside one theater where a popular success is running the queue which had formed alongside the pit and gallery doors melted away before the doors were opened. It was evident that these people, to whom a visit to a theater is such a treat that they stand for hours waiting to secure a seat, had no heart for musical comedy while their King lay at death’s door.—The New York Times.
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Sympathy, Impelling—See Example, Power of.
SYMPATHY IN TEACHING
In music you learn more in a week from a sympathetic teacher, or at least from some one who is so to you, than from another, however excellent, in a month. You will make no progress if he can give you no impulse.
What a mystery lies in that word “teaching!” One will constrain you irresistibly, and another shall not be able to persuade you. One will kindle you with an ambition that aspires to what the day before seemed inaccessible heights, while another will labor in vain to stir your sluggish mood to cope with the smallest obstacle. The reciprocal relation is too often forgotten.—R. H. Haweis.
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SYMPATHY, LACK OF
Nothing is so likely to cause a man to lose his head as the conscious lack of sympathetic encompassment. Sometimes a single man will upset a sermon.
I remember such a one who for many months was the plague of my life. He had taken offense at some public utterance of mine, and thereafter in his eyes I was persona non grata, a fact which he took a sort of savage satisfaction in making manifest in season and out of season, especially the latter.
He would seem to be deeply interested in the opening exercises, but the moment when I rose to preach he would double up as if in pain, or avert his face and look wistfully toward the window as if murmuring to himself. “Oh, that I had wings like a dove, for then would I fly away and be at rest.” And then instead of “afflatus” I would be taken with a bad spell of “flat us.” It does not take many such hearers to kill a man.—P. S. Henson, Christian Endeavor World.
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SYMPATHY, PRACTICAL
A little boy was riding in a street car, and, observing a kindly looking woman, he snuggled closely up to her, and unconsciously rubbed his dusty feet against her dress, when she leaned over to a woman on the other side of the little boy and said shortly, “Madam, will you kindly make your little boy take his feet off my dress?” The other woman said, “My boy? He isn’t my boy.” The little fellow squirmed uneasily, seemed to be greatly distrest, and looked disappointedly into the face of the woman who had disowned relationship to him. The woman whose attention had thus been called to the little boy presently observed that the child’s eyes were fastened upon her with a peculiarly wistful expression, and she said to him, “Are you going about alone?” “Yes, ma’am,” he replied, “I always go alone; father and mother are dead, and I live with Aunt Clara, and when she gets tired of me she sends me to Aunt Sarah, to stay as long as she will keep me; but they both tire of me so soon, I keep changing from one to the other; they don’t either of them care for little boys like me.” The woman’s heart was drawn to the motherless boy, and she said, “You are a very little boy to be traveling alone like this.” “Oh, I don’t mind,” said he, “only I get lonesome sometimes on these long trips, and when I see some one that I think I would like to belong to, I snuggle up close to her so that I can make believe I really do belong to her. This morning I was playing that I belonged to that other lady, and I forgot about my dirty shoes. But she would not let me belong to her. Do you like little boys?” The pitifulness of that appeal overcame all restraint of the woman’s feelings, and regardless of a car full of spectators, she put her arms around the tiny chap, hugged him close, and kissing him, said, “Yes, and I only wish you wanted to belong to me.” The boy looked at her with rapturous content, and replied, “I do.” And she said, “You shall,” and she adopted him.—James T. White, “Character Lessons.”
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SYMPATHY, ROYAL
King Victor Emmanuel returned to the ruins of Reggio to-day (January 1, 1909), and he has been indefatigable in succoring the afflicted. He traversed the ruins from one end to the other, comforting the sufferers and cheering the rescuers. At one point he came upon a man buried up to his waist in débris. He encouraged the unfortunate while the soldiers were digging him out. In the midst of the efforts at rescue the man cried:
“Sire, I can wait for deliverance, but for God’s sake give me food and drink.”
Meeting a group of photographers engaged in taking pictures, the King chided them for their occupation.
“You had much better turn your efforts to succoring the afflicted,” said his Majesty.
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Sympathy Wasted—See Fancy, Deceptive.
SYMPATHY WITH ONE’S OWN CREATIONS
A writer in The Critic says:
I once saw it recorded of George Eliot, as a thing marvelous, incredible, and unique, that she actually wept over her own creations. This fact, so stated, made me wonder at the ignorance of the writer. Does anybody suppose that a moving situation was ever yet depicted, the writing of which did not cost the author anguish and tears? How could he move his readers if he were not first moved himself? It is an elementary maxim; you may find it in Horace. But it is a sign that one possesses imagination if one can laugh over the fortunes of one’s own puppets.
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SYNCHRONISM
There is a divine standard by which every man in the world can accurately regulate his life as these clocks are regulated.
The ease with which any number of electric clocks may be operated in synchronism is an advantage of no small moment. In factories, mills, and large manufacturing plants, where it is essential to have the exact time in all the rooms, the electric clock will prove of peculiar value. By removing the pendulums from all but one clock, with the others connected in circuit, the exact time can be kept with all the clocks in the plant. Furthermore, the regulation of timepieces by electric power from some central station is thus greatly simplified. With a wire running to the main clock of the plant, an exact regulation of all in the series could be instantly obtained. (Text.)—The Electrical Age.
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Synchrony—See Church, Guidance for the.
Syntax, Absurd—See English, Errors in.
SYSTEM IN LABOR
A full week’s work may be well divided according to a plan.
The father of Theodore Roosevelt was a wealthy business man and a Christian. A remarkable thing about him was that he worked five days a week attending strictly to business; one day he spent improving his own mind and heart, and one day doing good, visiting the poor and otherwise helping others. (Text.)
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System versus Men—See Unnatural Education.