Part 15

“Well, to begin with the beginning and make an out-and-out confession, I’ll have to introduce you to my Uncle Charles. I wish you knew General Journay; I know you would like him even if he is an odd-looking man; he was once very handsome. He is too sensible to think he is handsome now, though, for there is no denying that he’s fat. He says it is constitutional, and maybe it is. I notice he is very uncomfortable, short of breath, you know; gets a red face in climbing up the stairs to the elevated road, and all that, but he’s jolly and good, and says he wants me to be a manly man, and I am going to try my best to please him. You know I am not as rich in relations as you are, for my parents died when I was a baby, and I never had either brothers or sisters; perhaps that’s one reason I think so much of you, Jo. Well, to go on with my story, when I was about twelve years old I went to visit for a week at my Uncle Charles’ home. He was delighted to have me with him, and I never tired of his companionship, or of looking at his soldier’s uniform, his sword and his medals. One day I said to him, ‘Oh, Uncle, I wish I were a General,’ and he replied, ‘There is no reason why you cannot be one, my boy, if the right material is only in you.’”

“‘What do you mean by right material, Uncle?’ I inquired.

“‘Why, humility, obedience, courage, honesty, truthfulness.’

“‘I did not know that soldiers were ever humble.’

“‘You must be humble enough to enter the lowest ranks, obedient enough to follow orders, courageous enough to face any emergency, honest enough to submit to pain rather than to steal, and truthful enough never to soil your lips or conscience with a lie.’

“Then my uncle told me of his own boyhood, of his poverty, his hindrances, his temptations; and I saw that the rank of General did not come by wishing, but by the greatest endurance, study, and hard work. I tell you what, Jo, as I listened to his story I felt so ashamed, and so small, I thought I would like to crawl away in a hole, anywhere almost, if I could only hide, for you know my uncle is such a noble, grand man. Then, too, my uncle told me of our great inventors, officers, rulers, whom the world is delighted to honor, and I saw that wishing had but little to do with their achievements and successes. I saw I had to buckle on my own armor and go to work.

“That night I could scarcely sleep; I kept thinking how insignificant uncle must think me, for I knew I had often wished for this, that and the other thing in his presence, and so when I did sleep I dreamed that I was in the woods, and I thought that all the bushes and trees were waving, and one big branch seemed like a long, bare arm beckoning to me. I felt an awesome, queer, uncanny feeling, and I was sure I was losing my way. I saw one and another path, but which one to take I knew not, when suddenly I heard a laugh; this frightened me so much that I jumped; then a voice said, ‘You little goosey-gander, what a brave soldier you would make, to be sure, afraid of a little laugh;’ and then I heard ha! ha! ha! and what seemed to me to be the most uproarious laughter, the shout of a hundred fairies. Soon a tiny old woman approached me saying, ‘I am a fairy queen. Ask for whatever you may wish while you are in my domain?’

“At once I exclaimed: ‘I wish to be the oldest General living.’ And there I was, a general in very truth, but so old I could scarcely see, so deaf I could scarcely hear; and I was dressed in a costume similar to my uncle’s. My hands were wrinkled, a long beard hung over my breast, but it was as white as snow. My mouth felt so queer that I lifted my hand to discover the reason, and alas! my teeth were all gone. I tried to walk, but I was so stiff I could scarcely place one foot before the other. ‘Oh, what a fool I have been,’ I thought. ‘If only I were a boy again? Oh, Uncle Charles, Uncle Charles!’ I screamed.

“‘Why, my boy, what is the matter, you were groaning and moaning so in your sleep, I thought something must be wrong?’ were his words.

“Wasn’t I grateful, though, to find it was only a dream. It seemed too good to be true, to learn that I was really a boy again, that life was before, and not behind, me. I tell you, Jo, I could scarcely wait for day to come, to get at positive work. And since that horrible nightmare, which taught me the silliness of wishing, I have been a changed boy, and I do not think I will ever fall into that purposeless talk again. But you don’t like sermons, excuse me, Jo.”

“You are a good fellow, John; I should not be worthy of friendship such as yours, if I did not benefit by what you have told me. I will try to follow your example. What do you say to our both being manly men?”

“Those words have the right ring.” And so saying the two friends walked off arm in arm.

A HEBREW CHRISTIAN.

Sydney Arnheim was a Jew. I say was, because he has thrown off the yoke of the Jewish faith, and this little story will tell you how it all came about.

Sydney is an only child; his parents are rich; his father, a famous Wall Street broker, is a power among his kind; his mother also belongs to a wealthy Hebrew family, and her refined taste and education show clearly in her surroundings. Anything that appeals to her exquisite judgment is purchased, so that Sydney’s home shows everywhere the touch of elegance, as well as the fitness of perfection. Sydney’s own room bears the print of her careful taste, and yet prominent among the rich hangings and delicate furnishing you see a Winchester rifle, a trout pole, also a buck’s antlers, a blue crane, a kingfisher, and several other well-known birds, all so skilfully prepared by the taxidermist that you could scarcely be blamed if you thought them yet alive. Yes, Sydney is a regular boy, and loves to keep trophies of his sport in sight, as well as his gun and trout pole. He says at times, “It makes it seem as if I’m in the Adirondack woods whenever I look at them, and simply lifting my rod recalls some experiences with papa in the boat with our guide, or else wading the streams with my tutor and drawing out big fish.” So Sydney’s mother, knowing the comfort these recollections bring, allows her son to place his sporting equipments just where and as he pleases. Thus the room has an odd, menagerie style of appearance. And thus the home of this Israelitish family everywhere tells of comfort and luxury.

Sydney, from his babyhood, was carefully trained in the customs and belief of his people. His mother, so frequently his companion, constantly talked about the greatness of his lineage, and told him of the patriarchs, legislators, warriors, singers and prophets which were among the Hebrew people. She also told him of Abraham and Moses, and of the covenant with Abraham at Jehovah-jireh, “In thy seed shall all the nations of the earth be blessed,” and also what the Lord said to Jacob at Bethel, “The land whereon thou liest, to thee will I give it, and to thy seed.” And she daily urged her son to walk in the footsteps and keep the covenants of his people, and always to serve the Lord God of Israel. The rabbi also would frequently visit their home, and Sydney was accustomed to talk to him, as well as to receive the old man’s instruction and blessing. Sydney loved to hear from him the stories of Moses, Aaron and Joshua; of the Tishbite and his servant Elisha; of Solomon and the temple; of the son of Jesse, David, the sweet singer, and of the promise of the Messiah to come.

And so it was when Sydney had attained his seventeenth year that when asked what he would most like for his birthday-gift he replied, “The education that will fit me the most thoroughly to preach, not alone to my people, but to win many erring ones, believers in the ‘false Christ’ to turn to the true faith.” He was at this time, therefore, and for seven anxious, wearisome months afterwards, the _Jewest_ of all Jews, a devoted follower of Moses, but not of the Lamb.

About the time of the birthday above alluded to, there came for a visit of three months a cousin of Sydney, a little girl about three years his junior. She, young as she was, however, was a Christian, and had the Easter previous publicly confessed Christ, and united with the same church her parents had long attended.

The question might readily be asked, “Since she was Sydney’s cousin, how was it that she was not also a believer in the Hebrew faith?” The reason is this. Her mother was Sydney’s father’s sister, and when very young, only seventeen years of age, had surprised and grieved her family by stating she was about to marry a gentleman who was not of her religion. Many words regarding the matter were exchanged at the time, but they were useless in preventing the marriage, and a year later she saddened her parents yet more by renouncing her Hebrew faith, and connecting herself with the church of her husband. He was a most exemplary gentleman, however, and, notwithstanding his religion, his wife’s people could not fail to have a most profound respect for him. So, in time, the families visited back and forth, but the topic of religion was never introduced. Sydney’s father would sometimes sigh wearily, when talking of his sister, and say his hope was that she would yet return to the belief of her forefathers, and that in time all must be well.

So now the little Edith was to spend many weeks with her Jewish relations, but she had been told to be careful about her attendance at church, and ever watchful of her conduct, indeed to act in every way as the child of the dear Christ whom she loved so well. Her mother, however, before consigning her to her brother’s care, simply said to her, “I will pray for you, dear, that your faith fail not,” and “Have no fear, mamma,” was the sweet reply. “Jesus will be with me in Uncle Nathan’s home, as well as in my own. Perhaps He will even have work for me to do there. You know Dr. M—— last Sabbath morning talked to us on the subject of missions, and said there were many kinds, and while we should pray and work for the foreign and domestic fields, we must also remember those of our own household, indeed, all everywhere, who do not love the Saviour.” So Edith’s mother had no fear for her child, and into the uncle’s home there came a blessing, the measure of which cannot be counted by any earthly rule or computation, for who can measure the joy of even one soul turned to the Saviour?

Edith and Sydney were now great friends, for while they had known each other always, the constant companionship led to the warmest friendship, and they were therefore as good comrades as a boy and girl cousin could well be. Neither religion nor any topic bearing on it was ever discussed before Edith. She never attended their church, nor they hers. When the Sabbath came she would always be accompanied to the church door, and when the service was out some member of the family would be found without waiting to walk home with her, and during her entire visit neither by word or action was she allowed to feel she stood apart from her Jewish relations, and therefore the time passed all too rapidly onward. She remembered her promise to her mother, and most earnestly she prayed to God to direct and help her. She also prayed for her uncle and aunt, imploring the Father in heaven to lead them into the light; but particularly she prayed for her cousin Sydney. They were such comrades, so nearly of an age, and yet she felt there was a great gulf fixed, and therefore she constantly plead that he might learn of the Christ, the Saviour.

One day, just after a most fervent prayer for Sydney, her cousin approached her unobserved while she was reading from the New Testament. He exclaimed, on seeing the title, “Why, Edith, I never had a copy of that book in my hands. I should like to read yours sometime, if you don’t mind.”

“Mind! why no, Sydney. Take it along with you now.”

And he did. When her cousin left, Edith prayed as she never had before, beseeching the Father to let the scales drop from his eyes and show unto him the Christ. And God did open the boy’s eyes. He did not read through a glass darkly, but with clearest vision. The brightest light fell on the divine Word, the light which later led to his giving up his old Hebrew faith, and his acceptance of Jesus.

All did not come at once. At the first reading he was troubled, anxious, but not satisfied. He had many old questions to settle; he had much pride to put aside; he spent many hours, and at times away into the night in prayer. But peace at last came, the peace which he feels will endure until the day when he will see the King in His beauty.

And now Sydney longs for the conversion of his parents, and of all of his people. His wish is to preach Christ, and so do all in his power to lead his brethren, the Jews, unto the everlasting joy of the New Jerusalem.

THE BABY’S LESSON.

It was blossom-time, and in the quiet of the early May morning the church bells rung out their loving call. “Come, come, come!” they seemed to say, and, accepting the invitation, we shortly found ourselves sitting, with other strangers, in the Episcopal church of a favorite resort.

It was during the Scripture lesson that a little maiden of about four years of age quietly walked up the long aisle, looking to right and left, scanning the faces in every pew, until she had reached the chancel. The clergyman’s voice was no doubt familiar to her, for she showed no timidity. Not seeing the one she sought, she turned and tripped down the aisle again. But on nearing the door she put out her hands and extended her arms in a pleading baby fashion, as if to say, “I do not want to go away. I cannot find my papa or mamma, but will not some one lift me up? I came to church to stay.” And a kind-hearted man, seeing the gesture, took up the baby beside him.

The little one reverently entered into the worship of the hour. As prayer followed prayer, the blue eyes closed tight, and the wavy golden hair fell forward over the bent head. At the time of singing she rose with others, and her voice carolled out the tune, though her words were those of her own devising. One little hand tightly clasped a penny, and as the collection-plate was passed she eagerly dropped in her contribution.

It was time to go home, and as nearly all present were strangers, many watched to see what the baby girl would do. A mother by my side said to her, “I have a little girl at home, about as big as you. I would not want her to be lost, and if you will tell me where you live I will take you home.” Then a quiet dignity seemed to possess the wee maiden, as with courteous action she pointed to a large white house about one hundred feet away. Lifting the blue eyes to the lady’s face, she replied, “I live there. I love to come to church, and I thought I should find papa; he always goes, but”—gravely shaking her curls—“I couldn’t find him this morning. But I can go home by my own self.” And then, child fashion, she ran on, as though to satisfy us that she knew the way.

Walking under the apple boughs back to the hotel, we thought of the sermon this child’s presence had preached. And the question came, Why do not all parents so train their little ones that they love God’s house? This little girl had given the congregation a lesson which should make a children’s day of every Sabbath the year around. The Bible says, “Their angels do always behold the face of the Father,” and “Unless ye become as a little child, ye cannot enter the kingdom.”

Where young children sit side by side with their parents in church, and so learn to “remember the Sabbath day,” they will early wish to consecrate their lives to Christ. They will not enter heaven “so as by fire,” but “as kings crowned,” for they will not wait to work for the Master until the time when the “grinders shall cease because they are few, and those that look out of the windows be darkened,” but will use the hours of every day as in God’s sight, and in the companionship of Him who is invisible.

PARLOR FORTUNE-TELLING.

Nothing so much lends enchantment to the hours or wings them to merry flight as fortune-telling. And particularly fascinating is the art of foretelling the future through the medium of palm-reading. When a bright girl who has the faculty of revealing character and prophesying the future by inspecting the hand is in a drawing-room, the hostess need not fear for the pleasure of her guests, for the fair magician will take care of beaux and belles alike, leading them on to happy marriages and boundless wealth (for no real fortune-teller ever forgets matrimony and money). Nor will the young people alone be anxious to learn what is written in the palms of their hands, for more or less superstition lingers with us all. And what if there has been a small error regarding character-reading, or a trifling discrepancy relative to past events, one happy guess will cause all such mistakes to be forgotten: and besides, the necessity for verification is seldom urgent. Palmistry is not altogether pastime, any more than divination is altogether jugglery, for no hand is exactly like another hand; the intersection of the lines, the stars, the mounts, the texture, really do supply a guide to the character of the owner. And if, added to the knowledge of hand-reading, you are a student of the face—and every one is more or less a physiognomist—you will arrive at fairly correct conclusions.

Palmistry is linked with astrology: the first finger belongs to Jupiter, the middle to Saturn, the third to the Sun, the small finger to Mercury; Venus is in the thick part below the thumb, the plain of Mars is directly under the mount of Mercury, the moon controls all beneath the kingdom of Mars. This link between the planets and the hand was arbitrary; astronomers distributed deities among the planets, and the planets were supposed to partake of the nature of the gods and to influence life.

Palmistry also depends on analogy and symbolism. Every mark on the hand has some mystical meaning. A star denotes success, barred lines indicate obstacles; where several parallel lines are formed instead of one, they show a variety of pursuits, instead of force only in one direction. If lines are long, gently curved, and red, they indicate a gentle disposition; if you have a special talent, there will surely be a perpendicular line from the base of the hand toward the fingers; this line is sometimes doubled. Long tapering fingers indicate high mental qualities, a love of the arts, a thirst for knowledge, and strength of memory, while the contrary shows a tendency to rapid progress at first, only to be followed by failure in all intellectual undertakings. People with short fingers are apt to be impulsive, if they are very short, they indicate lack of tact. Long-fingered people go into detail, and are punctiliously careful about trifles. Twisted fingers with short nails show tyranny and a worrying temperament. If the fingers fit closely together, their owner is apt to be avaricious; if smooth, they indicate indiscretion and talkativeness. But if twisted and showing spaces between, the person is sympathetic and generous. Sensitiveness is shown by the small fleshy protuberances, which stand out from the curved surface of the finger-tips. If your fingers are broad, you will love things for their practical uses; your taste will be for industries, mechanics, commerce. If your finger-tips are square, you will be fond of literature, logic, language, you will be inclined to theorize, and you will have respect for authority. The joints of the fingers have an importance, so they too must be carefully examined. Indeed, no one part of the hand can be taken alone; a joint or a line or a mount may so change the meaning of what you have already observed, as to greatly modify your conclusions. Conic fingers show a love for the beautiful, the ideal and romantic, but the well-developed joints may add moral force, as also does a large thumb. Hands that are always white, regardless of temperature, tell of selfishness and conceit, lack of sympathy for the sorrows of others. Soft hands tell of a lazy, lethargic temperament; hard hands show a love of exercise and labor. Soft hands indicate tenderness rather than fidelity, while hard hands indicate true love, but not much tenderness or passion. Smoothness of the hands shows delicacy of mind. A wrinkled hand, if soft, shows sensitiveness; if hard, irritability. Pale lines in a hand show a phlegmatic disposition, in a man amounting to effeminacy.

Each mount is of as much import as are the indications found on the fingers. On the mount of Jupiter you will learn of honor, ambition, religion. If it is very large it shows tyranny and ostentation; if small, idleness, egoism, vulgarity. A cross found on this mount will tell of a happy marriage; if a star is found as well, the marriage will be wealthy and satisfactory to the highest degree. A spot on this mount shows ignominy and dishonor.

The mount of Saturn, which is at the base of the second finger, tells of caution, credulousness, timidity. If very large, the individual will be melancholy, quiet, and morbid. A solitary line on this mount indicates bad fortune.

The mount of the Sun, when prominent, insures success, genius, pride, eloquence. If the mount is extremely large, wealth extravagance, luxury. A single line on this mount means glory.

Below the little finger on the outside of the hand we look for the mount of Mercury, and there learn of invention, speculation, agility. Excess of this mount indicates cunning, treachery, and falsehood.

Below this mount we find Mars, which if very prominent, shows the owner to be brusque and violent; if it is small, look out for cowardice and meanness.

The mount of the Moon, which is found lower still, denotes a love of the mysterious; those possessing this mount to a high degree are also inclined to revery, as well as to idleness. They are likewise capricious, changeful, and irritable. In hard hands you will also read discontent and fanaticism.

The most important of all the lines on the hand is the line of life. If long, clear, and straight, it shows long life and good character; if pale and broad, the indications are ill health and a weak disposition; if thick and red, the owner is apt to be violent to brutality; if varying in thickness, this will show a fitful and high temper.

The greatest caution must be used by any reader of the hand, and before even a pretension is made to judge character or to foretell the future, much careful study of the many books on this subject should be given. The student must learn from different authorities, as well as by thoughtful study and comparison for himself. Many rules must be applied, and there are many conflicting forces to harmonize. The hand is of the utmost importance in human economy. Aristotle denominated it “the organ of the organs.” After the murder of Cicero at Caieta, not only his head but also his hands were exhibited in the Roman Forum. The homologies have been traced between the human hand and the paws of the brute creation, and it has been proved that to man alone was the perfect hand given, exquisite in beauty as well as paramount in usefulness.

Palmistry is an old science. As early as the year 1504 there was a book published in the city of London on _The Art of Foretelling the Future Events by Inspection of the Hand_. It has been asserted that Homer wrote on the lines of the hand. Probably most people are familiar with the verse assigned by the superstitions as Scriptural warrant for indulging in this popular art: Job xxxvii. 7, “He sealeth the hand of every man, that all may know his work.”

CHURCH COURTESY.