Seedless Potatoes.
Long ago, when the ancestors of our potatoes were yet snugly ensconced in Peru, ignorant of their coming fame, they were tiny affairs, hardly larger than a walnut, but they produced seed abundantly. Now that cultivation has enlarged their growth to lordly proportions, it has almost succeeded in depriving them of their seeds, so that potato seeds are very difficult to obtain in quantity, and growers must depend upon the familiar cuttings from the tuber itself.
Cultivation has in a similar way produced the seedless cucumber, the seedless or nearly seedless tomato, the seedless mango, the seedless orange, and many other seedless fruits. The process has only to go on long enough and extensively enough and it will revolutionize the processes of nature, check the formation of new varieties, exchange sturdiness for size and flavor for convenience. It is all tending that way.
Let the churches learn a lesson. Hot-house Christianity tends to the elimination of seeds. There is constant danger that a church may become self-satisfied in its succulent prosperity, and lose its power of self-propagation. Our Master holds before us the ideal of seed-sowing. The seed is to be abundant,-some of it even for the wayside, the stony ground, the thorny ground. Seedless potatoes are well enough, but a seedless church is not well enough. Let us get out from under glass, let us jump the fences, let us go forth into the highways and hedges, and make even the wilderness blossom as the rose!
Scientific Salesmanship.
A young business man was talking about a correspondence course he was taking. He was very enthusiastic about it, and thought it was doing him a great deal of practical good.
It was a course in what is called "Scientific Salesmanship." The study is philosophical as well as practical. It aims to give the student a knowledge of how to sell goods. How, I suppose, to sell goods to the man that does not want to buy. How to sell, to the man that does want to buy, more than he wants, and perhaps a different kind from the kind he wants. How to know your man. How to "see through him" and "size him up," and take advantage of his little peculiarities and fancies. How to humor him. How to argue with him, and how to refrain from arguing. How to talk, and how to keep still and let him do the talking. How to crack jokes. How to smile sweetly. How to be sober and strictly business-like. All these, I presume, come within the curriculum of "Scientific Salesmanship," and if they can all be taught by mail, certainly it would be well worth while—if one is a salesman.
But in a way we are all—all of us, that is, who are Christians—we are all salesmen in "our Father's business." We are all put in the world for the purpose of getting men and women, boys and girls, to buy the "Pearl of great price"—to exchange for it all they possess. And in the pursuit of this high calling we shall need all our wit, all our brains, all our powers of invention, of speech, and of pleasing.
What if the other fellow doesn't want to purchase? It is our business to make him want.
What if he doesn't want to pay the price? It is our business to make him long to give all that he has.
In this "Scientific Salesmanship," as my friend told me, three things are to be learned: the salesman must first know himself—what he can do best, his most efficient powers, his most persuasive mode of approach; second, he must know his goods; third, he must know his customer.
And these three points outline what is to be known if one would persuade men to buy the "Pearl of great price."
Oh, young men, young women, with your high ambitions, your eager determinations, your ardent pursuit of worldly success—how I long to turn you all toward the only ambition that is worth a moment's consideration—the ambition to succeed in our Father's business!
The Pitcher and the Bowl.
Once upon a time a Pitcher full of grape-juice stood by a Bowl full of grape-juice, and the following conversation took place.
Said the Pitcher to the Bowl, "I will give you some of my grape-juice."
Said the Bowl to the Pitcher, "Thank you, but I already have all the grape-juice I can use."
The Pitcher (in an aggrieved tone): "But you have been accepting grape-juice from that other pitcher."
The Bowl (kindly): "But he came first."
The Pitcher (sharply): "I am just as good as he is. My grape-juice is exactly as good as his."
The Bowl: "I do not doubt it, but I am full, as you can see."
The Pitcher (perseveringly): "I have been told that where there is a will there is a way. I have courage and persistency. I am bound to succeed. You must take some of my grape-juice."
The Bowl (rather wearied): "Full is full. No amount of will can find a way to make it fuller."
The Pitcher: "Well, anyway, there's no harm in trying."
Thereupon the Pitcher began to pour his grape-juice into the Bowl, and of course it ran over and made a great ugly stain on the tablecloth. Besides, the grape-juice was wasted.
Moral: Do not try to force yourself where you, are not needed, but go where the bowls are empty.
The Profit of Salvage.
There is great profit in saving things, often greater profit than in making them or selling them in the first place.
A conspicuous illustration of this is the Walkure, a steamer seized by the French from the Germans and afterwards sunk by the Germans. France sold it, as it lay on the bottom of the sea, for $29,000 to a San Francisco shipping firm. This firm raised it, got enough out of its cargo to pay the $29,000 cost and the expense of raising it, and then sold the vessel for one million dollars, clear profit. Yes, saving is a fine business, and of all forms of it none is so profitable as the saving of immortal souls. That profit goes on after all the wealth of the world has crumbled to dust; it continues throughout eternity.
A Town in the Wheat-Fields.
The town of Hoxie, Kan., was almost deserted. A delegation of farmers had made their appearance, bringing woeful news. Their farm hands, imported from the effete East, had stopped work on account of the heat. A meeting of the business men was held. "We need help," said the farmers. "We must have it at once or our harvest is ruined. You fellows must give it."
The business men saw the point. Loss of that harvest would paralyze the business of the town. Half an hour later, as the newspaper account says, "the town barbers placed signs on their doors reading, 'Shaves and hair-cuts on Saturday.' The doors of the court-house were locked, and every county official donned his old clothes. Merchants turned their stores over to women clerks. Lawyers forgot their fees, and the doctor placed his wife in charge of the 'shop'." All the able-bodied men rushed off to the wheat-fields.
Well, that was a fine-spirited thing to do, and I honor the Hoxie people for it. What I should above all like to see now is the same spirit applied to the great concerns of eternal life.
Christ felt it when He said: "The harvest truly is plenteous, but the laborers are few. Pray ye therefore the Lord of the harvest, that he will send forth laborers into his harvest." Every earnest follower of Christ has felt the same way.
How good it would be to see, over this broad land, the secular interests thrown to the wind for all necessary time, while everyone—man, woman, and child—entered into the white harvest fields of the Kingdom! That would be an action even more prudent and practical than the action of the men of Hoxie.
Billy Sunday and Billy Monday.
"Keep out of hell!" cried Billy Sunday.
"I don't like your language, sir," sneered Billy Monday.
"God don't like your measly little heart, sir!" thundered Billy Sunday.
"Sir, you are ungrammatical; you said 'don't' in the third person singular," calmly remarked Billy Monday.
"Gospel's worth more'n grammar," Billy Sunday answered. "I'd rather go to heaven saying 'They ain't' than to hell prattling about the objective case." Then he added a remark consigning grammars to a place seldom mentioned in polite society.
"You are irreverent," Billy Monday remarked.
"I own I haven't very much reverence for hell and the devil. You seem to have," Billy Sunday snapped back.
"You are bringing tie church into disrepute by your flippancy and sensationalism," Billy Monday continued to charge.
"You are mighty anxious about the welfare of the church. When did you last put your hypocritical carcass inside one?" Billy Sunday inquired sharply.
But Billy Monday shrugged his shoulders and walked away.
Note.—Much to my surprise, I learned after writing the above that a Billy Monday actually exists. He was made an invalid for life by a college football game, and since then has been supporting his family by hand-work and designing, being especially successful in crocheting. His character is as far as possible from the fictitious "Billy Monday" of the above dialog.
The Comet-Hunters.
Have you ever heard how the astronomers pass the word along when one of their number finds a new comet, or catches sight of an old one, returned from its spacious wanderings? It is this way.
There exists among the astronomers a regular organization for this purpose. It is world-wide, and has two centers, one in Europe and one in America. The American center is Harvard University.
If, we will say at the Lick Observatory in California, one of these mysterious celestial objects is discerned some night, the fortunate discoverer will at once telegraph to Cambridge, giving its position in the heavens. As soon as the orbit can be learned, the facts about this are also sent to Harvard. Both reports are at once sent from Harvard under the ocean, as fast as lightning can carry them, to the European central station at Kiel in Germany. From Harvard and Kiel the information is distributed by telegraph to the observatories of Europe and America. Thus, no matter what the weather may be at one place or at many, there will always be a number of trained eyes, with their powerful lenses as aids, fastened upon the heavenly visitor, who will be under constant observation until he sees fit to leave our solar system, and fly beyond the range of our prying telescopes.
For the sake of cheapness and accuracy, a code is used in sending these messages; and at the end of each message, to serve as a check, a "control word" is given, a word that represents a number which is the mean of all the numbers used in the message.
It is interesting to know how much pains the scientific men take to get at these facts about invisible bodies floating aimlessly around in distant space,—a knowledge not likely to be of the least use to anybody, if that can safely be said concerning any knowledge whatever.
But as I relate these plans of the wise men, I am led to wonder whether we are half as eager to spread abroad over the world the infinitely important Good News which was proclaimed out of the opening heavens two thousand years ago!
"Boosting" a Current.
One day a man talked from Boston to San Francisco, the same instruments being used at each end of the line as were used forty years before. Then they could talk only two miles, now they can talk 3,400 miles. What has made the difference?
Of course many factors have entered into the marvelous progress, including the use of hard copper wire instead of the iron wire formerly used, but the chief invention that has made transcontinental telephoning possible is the loading, or induction coil devised by Professor Pupin of Columbia University, a Serb who came over here a poor boy in 1874 in order to escape European militarism. At first he was a shampooer. He interested a clergyman, went to school, graduated at the head of his class in Columbia, studied in England and Germany, and is now one of the world's most distinguished scientists. He is more wonderful than his wonderful invention.
These induction coils are placed at every eight miles across, the continent, and serve to "boost" the current, sending it swiftly on its way past all the irregularities of wire, of hindrances from other wires, and of surrounding conditions. Just how it is done can be understood only by an electrician, but the beautiful result is patent to everybody.
Now the duty of every Christian is to be some such induction coil. He is not the Voice. He is not even the wire. The Voice has spoken once for all. That Word has ever since sounded upon earth its message of peace and joy and strength. The wires are the intricate interlacings of human lives. And the induction coils? They are the little "boosts" that you and I may give to the message, passing it along over our eight miles to the next induction coil, and doing it gladly, promptly, and efficiently. "Let him that heareth say, Come!"
It is humble work, you think, this of the induction coils? No, it is grand work, the grandest work in the world; for without it the Voice could not sound forth among men, and with it the Voice will go to the ends of the earth.
How He Got a Hearing.
A newspaper before me tells of an interesting bit of work done by the salesman for a rubber company. He was selling tires, and very much wished to supply a certain man who ran a combination undertaking, livery and automobile establishment in southern Illinois. This man, when the salesman called, was putting together an automobile engine and was very busy.
"I haven't time to talk to you," said he to the salesman. "As soon as I get this engine together I've got to wash the hearse and go to a funeral, so don't delay me."
That was unpromising, but the salesman rose to the emergency.
"How long will it take to wash the hearse?" he asked.
"Forty-five minutes."
"Well, if I wash the hearse, will you give me the forty-five minutes?"
"Sure thing," answered the liveryman promptly. "It's no joke to wash a hearse this weather."
Thereupon the enterprising salesman put on the rubber boots, took a bucket, a sponge and a piece of chamois skin, and went to work briskly. He got the hearse done—and a good job—by the time the engine was put together, and then the two men sat down to talk tires. When the resourceful salesman left he carried with him an order for one hundred and forty-three dollars' worth of his firm's goods.
Now that bit of energy and brightness is a fine example for every worker in our Father's business. We talk about the difficulty of obtaining a hearing for the gospel. We tell one another how hard it is to reach men. Especially business men. Especially working women. Especially boys. Especially—lots of folks besides. We salve our consciences often by the reflection, "It isn't my fault, if they shut the door in my face." We sit down before the shut door and go to sleep. Maybe it will open some day. Maybe it won't.
How different was the action of that salesman before that determinedly shut door! He simply pulled it open, and put his foot in the crack. Before long he got his whole body in.
There is a way, where there is a will, at least when it is the will of God lodged in a human heart. If the children of light are as brisk as the children of this world, they will find a way. They may have to wash mud off hearses, but the way will work.
Perhaps they will get at the boys by going camping with them. Time? Hard work? An interruption to business? To be sure; it's washing hearses; but they get their forty-five minutes.
Perhaps they will get at the business men by joining the Chamber of Commerce. More lost time? Uncongenial surroundings? Discussions foreign to their interests? Yes, washing hearses; but they get many a forty-five minutes with the business men.
Perhaps the working girls are to be interested in a club, which you organize and conduct. It means many an hour of hard thought and hard work. It takes a big slice out of your life and puts it where you do not particularly want it. It brings with it a lot of annoyances, a lot of perplexities. It is hearse-washing. But you get the ears of the working girls.
In short, you can have what you will pay for, in the kingdom of heaven as well as in the markets of earth. You can have even the pearl of great price, if you will pay for it all that you possess. You can get a hearing for the gospel. It is only a matter of wanting it enough.
Kindling a Fire.
Everyone is sure that he can kindle a fire, even after he has tried it and failed; and everyone is sure that he knows how to kindle a spiritual fire, as preachers and evangelists and religious editors and theological professors and missionaries are expected to do. But fire-kindling is not so easy, in either the material or the spiritual realm. There is not so much difficulty in laying the fire, placing the backlog, cramming in the paper, and deftly superimposing the shingles, the fine sticks, and the coarse sticks so that there will be a clear draft throughout. The one difficult essential is plenty of perfectly dry wood, of all sizes, ready to catch fire. To provide this requires foresight, time, and muscle.
And that is just the difficult essential in spiritual fire-kindling—finding the masses of people, of all ages and conditions, who are ready and eager for the fire of the Spirit. This is what takes time and patience and hard work. This is where all may help-parents and children, Sunday-school teachers and Sunday-school pupils, Christian Endeavourers and business men and housewives, preachers and editors and professors. We all can be providing the materials for a fire, and then the fire will not be long in coming.