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Divine sight through him a standing of human perfection or justification. This standing is granted to us or imputed to us for the very purpose of permitting us to sacrifice our human rights and earthly interests as he sacrificed his. The "elect" are to be dead with him, that in the resurrection they may live with him and be like him and share his glory, honor and immortality. By consecration we present our bodies living sacrifices holy and acceptable to God, as the Apostle declares (Rom. 12:1). Thus we are "immersed into his death" and thus we bcome members of his body.

Whoever fails to be thus immersed into Christ's death will fail of the membership in his Body-will fail to be of his elect Church, his Bride. The difference between being dead with Adam and being dead with Christ is very great. By nature we are all dead with Adam. He was a sinner, condemned. We as his offspring are the same. It was necessary therefore that we should by faith be lifted out of this condition of death with Adam, in order that by consecration of of all earthly interests we might become dead with Christ. Thus we share with him his sacrificial death and, by participation in "his resurrection," will also become sharers of his Kingdom glory.

Jesus' Baptism Ended on the Cross.

Ridding ourselves, then, of the unscriptural theory of an eternal torment awaiting the non-elect, may not all Christians perceive the reasonableness of the Divine proposition to bless the world through the elect? As Jesus by his sacrifice was made Head of the Church, so all who will be his members must share his spirit of self-sacrifice-death to the world and earthly interests. Only such may share with him in his Messianic Kingdom work of blessing, uplifting, instructing, assisting all of the non-elect.

Many of the non-elect under the fuller light and better opportunities of the Mediatorial reign will turn from

sin to righteousness, from death to life eternal. This "baptism into death" with its blessed reward excludes none of any denomination. It includes in the Church of the elect those of every denomination and of no denomination who comply with its conditions of faith and obedience and consecration unto death.

Was not this our Lord's baptism as he described it? Just before his crucifixion he said, "I have a baptism to be baptized with, and how I am straitened (troubled) until it be accomplished!" plished!" His baptism dated from his consecration at Jordan, but it was not fully "accomplished" until on the cross he cried, "It is finished"-his baptism into death was finished.

Was not this baptism into death what he referred to when speaking to his disciples? James and John requested that they might sit on his right and left hand in the Kingdom. In reply Jesus said, “Are ye able to be baptized with the baptism that I am baptized with?" Surely he did not refer to a water immersion! Surely he did refer to his baptism into death, and meant his Apostles to understand that only by sharing in his baptism into death could they hope to sit with him in his Throne (Mark 10:37).

With this reasonable, logical, Scriptural view of baptism before our minds which of us would be inclined to dispute over the form of the symbol or in respect to the class of persons who should properly use the symbol? Surely none would claim that infants could thus believe and thus consecrate to death! Surely all would agree that a symbolical immersion. into water such as was practised by the early Church, according to all the records, would be the most reasonable, most beautiful, most appropriate method of symbolizing the real baptism into Christ-into his death.

Let us, therefore, not be content merely to federate! Let us unite our hearts and heads and hands as members of the Body of Christ; let us be baptized with his baptism, into his death!

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U. S. Sloop-of-War Omaha in 1885.

The Old Omaha

By Arthur H. Dutton

Formerly Lieutenant, U. S. Navy.

ASSENGERS on bay steamers and on the steam and electric

trains running to San Rafael have often noticed an unattractive old hulk lying off San Quentin, suggestive of a small Noah's ark. Its masts are but light spars, its deck is housed over and its black hull is securely moored by heavy chain cables. Day after day, month after month and year after year this old vessel lies there.

It is the quarantine hulk Omaha. upon it the United States Public Public Health and Marine Hospital service places immigrants found afflicted with infectious diseases.

To this service has been relegated what was once one of the proudest little vessels of the United States Navy, the sloop-of-war Omaha, and it fell to my lot to serve in the Omaha when it was at the height of its glory, a spickand-span warship, with glittering bright work, white decks and awnings, everything new, for in 1885, when I was a midshipman upon it, the Omaha had just left the Portsmouth, N. H., navy-yard, where it had been rebuilt and fitted out, with every appliance the latest pattern of that period for a vessel of its class. It was a crack ship, commanded by a splendid officer of the old school), Captain (new Rear

Admiral, retired) Thomas O. Selfridge, who has many relatives in San Francisco.

Captain Selfridge was a martinet and every officer and man had to toe the chalk line, but the vessel was a credit to him and to the Navy. Never was there a smarter ship in drills with sails and spars. The crew was trained to be in readiness for any emergency at any time. While lying in port it was one of Captain Selfridge's pastimes to give a sudden order to "arm and away all boats," whereat every officer and man sprang to his post and in a jiffy every boat of the ship was away, with crew armed and supplied with provisions and equipment.

Sail drill was Captain Selfridge's specialty, and it fell to my lot to be officer of the maintop-right before his eyes-at "all hands" and to his close attention to everything in the maintop-and to me-I attribute most of what practical seamanship I know, for Captain Selfridge knew his business and saw that those in his sight knew theirs before he got through with them.

I joined the Omaha in New York. She was as clean and natty as any yacht. One of my messmates was Charles H. Harlow, then an ensign, and now a captain, commanding the flagship California of the Pacific fleet. Youngsters just of the Naval Academy, I and my classmates did New York as only midshipmen can during the few weeks we were there, while awaiting the arrival of the Bartholdi Statue of Liberty from France, which the Omaha and the vessels of the Atlantic fleet, headed by the French flagship La Flore, escorted up from Sandy Hook. Just before sailing, we participated in the first funeral ceremonies of General Grant. The naval brigade from the fleet, in which I commanded a section of hand-drawn light artillery, marched on a hot August day from the Battery to 155th street and there stood "at ease" in the sun for three hours while the speakers exhorted patriotism.

It was on the trip across the Atlantic that Captain Selfridge's skill as a seaman was exhibited. The Omaha was bark-rigged, with auxiliary steam power. We sailed all the way across except for three days, when becalmed, and made the trip from Sandy Hook to Cape St. Vincent, Spain, in 18 days, which was going some for a sloop-ofwar under sail most of the way, but Selfridge carried "stun's'ls" at night as well as by day, and we had a quartering wind blowing half or a full gale nearly as far as the Azores.

Upon reaching Tangier, Morocco, we saw yellow quarantine flags flying from several vessels in the harbor, so we turned on our heel and went on over to Gibraltar, for cholera was raging in the Mediterranean that summer and we could take no chances, but on arriving at Gibraltar the Omaha was itself quarantined for a very peculiar

reason.

On the way across from New York, while north of the Azores, we made out a Norwegian bark flying signals of distress. We stopped to communicate with the bark, and it sent a boat, with as villainous looking a crew of pirates in it as I ever saw, and I have seen some, to tell us that the captain was sick and could not keep food in his stomach. We sent one of our surgeons in one of our own boats to the distressed bark, to give medicine and medical attendance. When the surgeon returned he said the bark, which was bound from Martinique, West Indies, to Bordeaux, France, was reeking with yellow fever, several of the crew having died from it and the Captain being in the last stages of the dread disease.

For communicating with the bark, the Gibraltar authorities refused us pratique, but for some unexplained. reason I and two other midshipmen were allowed to land there, to take the steamer for London, having found orders transferring us to the flagship Pensacola, of the European station, then in England, and now the station ship, housed over like the old Omaha,

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Sing, sing, O sing! for God has kissed the world; The gates of night shine glorious like the dawn; Love's eyes, for human woe with tears impearled, Have looked on Death, and lo, Death is withdrawn!

Glad robins carol joy where, bleak and brown,
The empty nest appealed to Yearning's tear;
The daffodils, in golden robe and crown,

Throned on their tombs, now smile at all we fear!

O ye bereft, behold the lilies lift

Victorious swords above the common foe! All tender blossoms o'er the dead adrift Whisper sweet secrets to the dust below!

The Springs of all the years are born again-
For life is always life, life bursts all bars!
And everywhere God's heart appeals to men—
In harmony of flowers as in the star's.

Sing, sing, O sing! Enraptured prophecy

Breaks now from swelling bud and quickening sod— Oh, God Himself is dead if Love can die, And man is man wherever God is God!

STOKELY S. FISHER.

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"The Stock Exchange from Within." By William C. Van Antwerp.

This book is evidently written to meet the newspaper and legislative storm of criticism which is now assailing the New York Stock Exchange: it is a plea for the "square deal." The author is a busy member of the exchange, thoroughly familiar with its system, and possesses a keen eye for measuring the calibre of its members, good, bad and indifferent. He admits the moral obliquity of some of them, who stretch elastic rules to suit their own selfish ends, but these he claims are a bare handful, as they are found in all the successful callings of the world.

The author expiains his position as a champion as follows: "In the many quotations from the world's foremost economists that are here presented, and in the various legal and historical precedents cited, perhaps it is not too much to hope that this book possesses some slight value as a contribution to the vexed and vexing discussion of the Stock Exchange, and that it may serve in some degree to dull the sharp edge of uninformed criticism and strengthen the hands and hearts of loyal friends of a greatly misunderstood institution. The public is asked to disregard the utterances of demagogues and self-seekers, and to consider facts."

to

Being a member of the exchange, the author is naturally well acquainted with the intricacies of stock dealing, and these he sets forth clearly and succinctly in their relation to the law, the

public and the broker. The uses and abuses of speculation are also explained, and a sketchy historical account of legislative attempts on the part of the leading nations to restrain or suppress speculation. The growth and practices of the London Stock Exchange and the Paris Bourse are also recounted. Reformers may not agree with the author in many of his claims, but before jumping to the conclusion that "short selling" is immoral, or that speculation should be restrained by law, or that the Stock Exchange should be incorporated, or that an unholy alliance exists between the exchange and the banks, take this chance to read the other side of the question, in the American spirit of fair play.

Illustrated from photographs. $1.50 net. Published by Doubleday, Page & Company, New York.

"The Night Born," by Jack London, author of "The Abysmal Brute," "Smoke Bellew," "The Call of the Wild," etc.

Every one of Jack London's wide circle of readers will want this book of short stories, mighty good stories, with a touch of daredevil impossibility making them the more readable. Of course, no white wanderer up in the Arctic wilds ever found a beautiful and fascinating white woman queening it over a tribe of Indians and several thousand miles of hunting land; but Jack London makes it splendidly and thrillingly real. Of course no clever inventor ever flew for hours through the air as fast as a carrier-pigeon, and

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