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The Dead Child.
[The following line* are from a funeral hymn by 8t
Epliraem, of Syria, A. D. 879. We copy them from the
Mb^ntautn.
And I fear that my lamentiogs, as I speak thy cherish,
ed name.
Desecrate the royal dwelling,—fear to meet deserved
blame,
If I press with tears of anguish into the abode of joy,
Therefore will I, meekly bowing, offer thee to God, my
boy.
Yet thy voice, thy childish singing, sonndeth ever in
, my ears;
And I listen and remember till my eyes will gather
tears,
Tbiokicg of thy p. etty prattlingg and thy childish looks
of love.
Bat when l begin to murmur, then my spirit looks
above, —
Listens to the songs of spirits—listens, longing, won
dering,
To the ceaseless glad hosannas angels at thy bridal
sing.
Mamma's Eight Hand.
“ Sh’ boys!” said Letty Day as she held
up her finger warningly towards the two boys
whose interruption into the sitting room
seemed imminent. “I have been rocking the
baby a whole hour, and he has not gone to
sleep till a minute ago. Now please do be
quiet, like good boys, won’t you 1”
“ Well, there now,” retorted Tom, “ I nev
er saw such a baby. “ He’s always just go
ing to sleep, and you’re always hushing a fel
low up.”
“ Oh, Tommy, I don't always hush you up,”
remonstrated Letty.
“ Well, you do that,” said the boy, thor
oughly out of temper. “ Come Arch, let’s
go out again, aud sec if we can’t talk, when
we get out of doors.”
Just here, their mother opened the sitting
room door.
“ Letty, I have an errand that I must do
before dark. Can I leave baby with you
while l am gone?”
“Yes’m,” said Letty, a little slowly, for
if the truth must be told, the little maiden
had held a pet hope that now the baby was
asleep, she might have the grace of a nice
“read,” all by herself down by the brook, in
just the sweetest place that ev.er was, under
the willow, She had such a splendid new
book, and it was pretty hard to give up her
promised recreation.
1 rather think the mother noticed the shad
ow which felt over her little daughter’s face,
for sha said regretfully, “ I am sorry, dear, to
give my ‘right hand’ so long a turn at baby
tending, but it seems perfectly unavoidable.”
“ Well, never mind, mamma said Letty,”
though there was a tear in her voice.
“I shali remember my little girl’s cheerful
sacrifice,” said Mrs Day.
“ Boys, be good children and don’t trouble
Letty. Tom, 1 shall leave Archie in your
care. Don’t let him go out of the yard with
out your company. Remember, my son ;do
you hear?”
“ Yes’m,” said Tom, but his tone wassurly,
and turning he went out into the garden,whist
ling and cal ing*to Archie in a quick impera-'
tive tone to “ come along”
Letty stood at the window and watched
her mother, as she walked down the street.
It was a lovely September afternoon. The
sunlight lay broadly on the world, bathing
all things in glory. Ilow well, all her life
after, Letty remembered that day ! Every
thing was very still, save that through the
open windows came the buzz and whir of in
sect life. The trees stood quiet in their full
ness of fruitage, and the mellow warmth of
autumn was in the air.
Baby still slept. Dear little fellow ! how
much Letty loved him ! He was such a dar
ling, though her arms ached very often with
their long tendings of the little king. Poor
thing ! how could he help crying when his two
sharp eye-teeth were pushing their painful
way into the light!
Letty did sometimes wish that she had a
sister. One lone little maiden she was among
three brothers, and she had her own private
trials with them all, in one way or another, it
must be confessed. Yet she couldn’t possibly
part with hectoring Tom, who loved her dearly
after all, or with that rouge of an Archie, who
led her many a weary trot in pursuit of his
runaway legs, or with dear wakeful Willie,
who did insist upon keeping his brown eyes
wide open, very often, when Letty wanted
him to go to sleep dreadfully.
The little girl turned from the window, and
sighed, for the inevitable baby was stirring.
There couldn’t be any mistake about that
nestiiug in the cradle. Another tip to
the rockers, and off he clipped again into
dream-land, solacing his interrupted nap by
a long suck at bis rosy fist.
Just here Tom sauntered in alone. “Why
Tom !” exclaimed Letty, where’s Archie ?”
Tom started. “Archie F‘ said he. He
“came in half an hour ago. Any way I saw
him, walking towards the house, and 1 thought
he was coming in sure.”
•* Oh, Tom, what made you let hint go out
of your sight, when mamma told you to keep
watch over him all the time.
Tom sprung to his feet. “ I forgot, honor
bright, Letty” he said, “ I’ll start right off
for him, this minute, but where shall I go?”
“ You stay with the baby. Bridget’s gone
out, and I’ll go,”said Letty quickly,’who knew
from experience, that Tom’s powers of search
were neither persistent, or successful.
So saying, she ran to the wall, and caught
her sun-down. Before she had cleared the
steps, an awful possibility flashed through the
little girl’s mind.
The brook ! the brook! What if Archie
had run thither and fallen in !
Terror winged her feet. How they flew
down the path to the willows! Oh! if his
dear sunny curls were washed by the
swift waters even now ! God keep the child!
How interminable seemed the path which
was commonly so short!
Suddenly she tripped, and fell over a straw
hat. “Oh Archie !” she gasped. It was his
and she mustn’ stop an instant
Had he tried to unfasten the boat 1 ? No,
she could see it now, securely r\ding at its
moorings.
“ Archie ! Archie !” she screamed.
No answer broke the quiet air.
Up and down the reach of the brook she
looked, as far as she could see. Not a ves
tige of the boy.
What is that glimpse of pink, that catches
her eye, up under the trees down-stream?
Can it be Archie’s gingham frock? Oh! it is,
it is ! He has fallen into the swift current,
and the low scraggy outreaching willow
boughs have caught him in the eddy, w here
the bank curves.
What shall liio? Whatshall Ido?” said
poor Letty. ‘‘There’s the boat, but I can’t
row a bit.” (Good angels whisper to her
that she may push it out into the stream, and
God will see to the rest.) “But Archie will
be dead, and if he is not already, before I
can get anybody here to save him. I must
try ” —and jumping into the boat, she slipp
ed the rope from the stake, and gave a gen
te push down stream. Quietly the little
ctafs, started on its course, borne by the same
shore current that had probably carried lit
tle Archie.
“ Now, if 1 can only keep close in by .the
shore,” thought Letty, “1 can catch those
willow branches and hold on, and so keep from
going down to the dam. Oh, Archie, if you
only ar’n’t drowned !”
Slowly, slowly, slipped the boat down
stream, nearer and nearer the little pink ging\
ham frock. Themoments seemed years to Let
ty,and yet the few last had been so full of exper
ience, that she felt as if she were crazed, and
didn’texactly know whether she were her own
self, or no. An indistinct but most fervent pray
er passed through her heart for her little
THE CHRISTIAN INDEX AND SOUTH-WESTERN BAPTIST: ATLANTA, GA„ THURSDAY, APRIL 13 1871.
brother and herself. She was almost at the
willows.
Now for it! The Lord help her! Can her
short arms reach the boughs ?
Reaching so far out that the little boat
rocked and tipped, almost to dipping, Letty
caught a knrirly twig, and pulled herself in
under the trees. Archie is caught yet a lit
tle further in among the greenery.
Instantly, Letty thougt of the boat-rope,
which is fastened by one end firmly thereto.
Stooping, with the disengaged hand she
raised the free end of the rope, and twisting
it round a stout limb, within reach, she fas
tened it as well as she could, and now had
both hands free for Archie’s rescue.
Again leaning a9 far as she dared, she
could just reach a corner of the pink frock.
“Archie ! Archie !” she called. But no an
swer came.
Gradually she drew the quiet little form to
ward her. His head lay in such a tangle of
green, that she could not see whether the cruel
water had covered his mouth.
The branches at length yielded their -last
hold on the child’s clothing, and with a pull,
which wa9 superhuman, Letty pulled him over
the boat’s side, almost falling into the water
herself in the effort.
Letty’e sight swam, but she couldn’t afford
time now to faint away. Sitting down in
the bottom of the boat, she gathered the drip
ping Archie into her arms.
“ Oh, do speak, darling,” she implored, as
she kissed him wildly.
But Archie did not speak. His lips were
blue, and his eyes closed.
Letty remembered having heard some-body
9peak ot fuming drowned people upon their
faces; so she turned Archie over, and rubbed
him, while the water trickled from hia mouth
and nose.
T . /• _ * _1- * l i.l «
In a few moments, oh, joy ! there was a
faint sigh, and tremulous breath, and Archie
was born back to life again !
“ Oh,” said Letty, “ will nobody ever come?”
She had shouted herself hoarse ; but it seemed
ages that she sat there with the exhausted child
in her arms, herself now nearly as weak and
faint as he.
“ I am afraid he will die again before I can
get him home. Please God, send some
body.”
Help did at last come in the shape of two
men out fishing, who took the children
home.
Tom’s face was white and solemn when he
saw the dreary retinue of his brother and sis
ter, and I think he never forgot the lesson of
that afternoon. ?
All this dread experience of Letty’s had
transpired in only half an hour’s time, though
it seemed a month to her 9ince she started on
the search.
Mrs. Day returned a few moments after
the children were brought into the house, and
I need not speak of the tears of joy which the
mother shed over both her darlings.
Need I say, either, that from henceforth
LettySwas doubly the pet of thejhousehold. or
more than ever—“ Mamma’s Right Hand
-— lnterior.
A “Young” Man Defined.
Age hath its work of instruction and coun
sel, bringing down the past to the present.
When young men take hold of any work, it
“grows with their growth and strengthens with
their stiength it will seize hold of their af
fection and their sympathy for all time to
come. And yet, as I look round me this
evening, I scarcely know where the line is to
be drawn that shall separate the young men
from the old. I used to think that young
men were men of 17, of 20, or possibly 25.
When I was a lad, I thought if ever I reached
30 I should be a man of mature years ; and
should I ever arrive at 50, 1 should be an old
man ! But as I have passed from decade to
decade, until I have gone all these boun
dary lines, I feel that I have not got out of
the sphere of young men. I find young men
older than lam!
I think of the words of the Apostle: “I
write to you young men, because you are
strong.” As long as a man is strong he is a
young man. As long as a man is strong—
be he 20 or 60—his heart is young. He
may be a boy ; he may be a grandfather; he
is a young man! In trying to draw the line,
I have thought some are old at 20, and
some are young at 800—or say a thousand !
The great trees of California, botanists say,
have been growing since Noah’s flood. They
show very little signs of age yet. They are still
strong, flourishing, beautiful, and I have come
to the conclusion that men are very much like
those trees. A tree is never to be counted
old as long as its heart is sound, and it is
able to bear fruit. Well, while a roan’s heart
is sound and he is able to do good, 1 say he
is to be classed among young men. And
such I recognize to be the men of this.institu
tion. They are workers ; they are men who
design to labor for their community ; they
take by the arm men young in years, young
in experience, and train them for humanity
and for Christ. —Bishop Simpson before the
T. M. <7. Association.
A German Story
In that beautiful part of Germany which
borders on the Rhine, there is a noble castle,
which, as you travel on the western bank of
the river you may see_ lifting its andent tow-,
ers on the opposite side, above the grove of
trees which are about as old as itself. About
forty years ago there lived in that castle a
noble gentleman, whom we shall call Baron.
The Baron had an only son, who was not on
ly a comfort to his father, but a blessing to
all that lived on his father’s land.
It happened on a certain occasion, that this
young man being from home, there came a
French gentleman to see the old Baron. As
soon as this gentleman came jnto ihe castle,
he began to talk of his Heavenly Father in
terms that chilled the old man’s blood, on
which the Baron reproved him, saying, “Are
you not afraid of offending God, who reigns
above, by speaking in such a manner?”
The gentleman said that he knew nothing
about God, for he had never see him.
The Baron did not notice at this time what
the gentleman said, but the next morning
took occasion to show a beautiful picture
which bung on the wall.
“ My son drew that picture,” said the Baron.
“Then your son isa very clever man,” re-
plied the gentlemm. '
Then the Baron went with the visitor into
the garden and showed him many beautiful
flowers and plants.
“ Who has the ordering of the garden ?”
said the gentleman.
“ My son” replied the Baron ; “ he knows
every plant, I may say, from the cedar of
Lebanon to the hyssop on the wall.”
“ Indeed,” said the gentleman, “I shall
think very highly of him soon.”
The Baron took him into the village, and
showed him a small, neat cottage, where his
son had~estabiished a school, and where he
caused all the poor children who had lost their
parents to be received and nourished at bis
own expanse.
The children in this house looked so happy
and innocent that the French gentleman was
very much pleased, and when he returned to
the castle he said to the Baron :
“ What a happy man you are to have such
a good son.”
How do you know I have a good son ?>’
“ Because I have seen his works, and I know
that he must be both clever and good if he has
done all you have shown tne.”
“ But you have never seen him.”
“ No ; but I know him very well, because
I judge of him by his works.”
“ You do; and please now draw near to
this window, and tell me what you observe
from thence.”
J *Why, I se&thestin travelling through the I
sky and shedding its glories over one of the
greatest countries in the world ; and l behold
a mighty river at my feet, and a vast range
of woods, and I see pasture grounds, and or
chards, arid vineyards, aud cattle and sheep
feeding in green fields; and many thatched
cottages here and there.”
“ And do you see anything to be admired
in all this ? Is there anything pleasant, or
lovely, or cheerful in all that is spread before
you ?”
“ Do you think that I want common .sense ?
or that I have lost the use of my eyss, my
friend?” said the gentleman somewhat angri
ly, “that I should riot be able to relish the
charms of such a scene as this ?”
“Well, then,” said the Baron, “ If you are
able to judge of my son’s good character by
seeing his good works, how does it happen
that you form no judgment of the goodness
of God, by witnessing such wouders of His
handiwork as are now before you ? Let me
never hear you, my good friend, again say
that you know not God, unless you would
have me suppose that you have not the use of
your senses.”
The Best Stimulant.
There are times when the pulse lies low in
the bosom, and beats low in the veins; when
the spirit sleeps the sleep whioh, apparently
knows no waking in its house of clay, and the
window shutters are closed, and the door is
hung with the invisible crape of melancholly;
when we wish the golden sunshine pitchy
darkness, and are very willing to fancy clouds
where no clouds be. Thies is a state of sick
ness when physic may be throws to the dogs,
tor we will have none of it. What shall
raise the sleeping Lazarus? What shall make
the heart beat music again, and the pulses
dance to it through all the myriad-thronged
halls in our house of life? What shall make
the sun kiss the eastern hills again for us, with
all his old awakening gladness, and the night
overflow with “moonlight, music, love and
flowers ?”
Love itself is the great stimulant, the most
intoxicating of all, and performs all these
miracles ; but it is a miracle itself, and is not
at the drug store, whatever they say. The
counterfeit is in the market, but the winged
god is not a money-changer, we assure you.
Men have tried many things, but still they
ask for stimulants—the stimulation we use,
but require the U9e of more. Men try to
drown the floating dead of their own souls in
the wine cup, but the corpses will rise. We
see their faces in the bubbles. The intoxica
tion of drink sets the world again,
and the pulses playing muse, and the
thoughts galloping. But the last clock runs
down sooner, and the unnatural stimuiantion
only leaves the house it fills with the wildest
revelry—more silent, more sad, more desert
ed, more dead.
There is only one stimulant that never fails
and yet never intoxicates—Duty. Duty puts
a blue sky over every man—up in his heart
may be—into which the skylark happine33
always goes singing.— Prentice.
What Female Education Should Be.
Now what ought all young ladies to learn ?
First, to speak and write English correctly,
and to read it aloud and fluently. Next to do
plain needlework. It i9 a great mistake to
think that wealth can supersede the necessity
for this. In the first place this is the most
feminine of occupations; next, it affords even
the stupidest person an opportunity of doing
one thing well without being attracted by the
display that usually attends excellence; and
lastly.it is a most valuable preparation for use
fnl intercourse with the poor. Then must
come the rudiments of history, geography,
and ciphering, and as much French as the nat
ural ability of t,he student renders pc» sib»'o.
Nothing more is necessary except dancing—
all else should depend upon natural gifts and
personal tastes.
Scarcely any woman can be so learned or
clever that it becomes a matter of indiffer
ence whether she is also good looking, yet she
may easily acquire a proficiency which will
be a source of genuine satisfaction to herself
and her friends. It must however be conced
ed that it is not possible to range all under
the head of stupid or clever, and that some
common ground of general education is want
ing, which shall test., awaken and develop
their powers as they grow into young wo
men.
Incomparably the best instrument for meet
ing this want is to be found in thestudy of stand
ard English literature. This will elevate, excite
and steady them. Accomplishments are quite
a secondary matter. If men do not get tir
ed of the songs, they soon get tired of the
singer if she can do nothing but sing. What
is really wanted in a woman is that she should
be a permanently pleasant companion.
A Fable by Krilof.
Early one morning a peasant was laborious
ly ploughing his plot of ground, and toiling
so hard that his limbs were bathed in sweat.
The peasant worked with a will; and so every
one who went by called out to him : Bless
you, friend ! All honor to you !” This made
a certain ape jealous. Praise is tempting ;liow
can one help craving for it ? The ape deter
mined to set to work ; so it got hold of a huge
log, and just didn’t it worry itself about it !
The ape’s mouth becomes full of trouble—
that is it has enough to do ; now it lifts the
log up, and rolls it first this way and then that;
now it hugs it, now it drags it along. The
sweat streams off the poor creature; it pants,
and at last it becomes all but breathless. But
in spite of ail this, not a soul gives it an atom
of praise. And no wonder, my dear; you
very work hard, but what you do isn’t of
the least use.— Good Words.
Good Lack.
Some youDg men talk about luck. Good
luck is to get up at six o’olock in the morn
ing. Good luck, if you have only a shilling
a week, is to live on eleven pence and save a
penny. Good luck is to trouble your head
with your own, and let others’ business alone.
Good luck is to fulfil the commandment and
to do unto othei people as we wish mem to
do unto us. We must plod and persevere.
Pence must be taken careof because they are
tbs seed of guineas. To “get along in this
world,” we must take care of home, sweep
our own doorways clean, try to help other peo
ple, avoid temptations, and have trust and
faith in God.
Family Peace.— lt is recored that an em
peror of China,once making a progress through
his dominions; was, by chance, entertained
in a house in which the master, with his wife,
children, daughter-in law, grand-children, and
servants, all lived together in perfect peaoe
and harmony. The emperor, strnck with ad
miration at the speotacle, requested the head
of the family to inform him woat means he
used to preserve quiet among such a number
ajid variety of persons. The old man taking
dut his pencil, wrote these words: Patience,—
patience — patience.
Queer. —Os R. H. £>., a teacher, who after
wards became a Presbyterian minister, this
story is told: After confining himself close
ly to study, he was sometimes seen retiring
to a remote place and there hanging up his hat;
;he would then walk an hundred or two yards
from it, and there make a wager between his
Christian name and his surname, as to which
should first reach the hat. lie would then run
with his utmost speed to the hat, and there,
after some debate, decide whether R. H. or D.
had won the raee.
Debt. —When a boy contracts debts un
known to his parents, they arc associated with
I shame and rum.
See that Jesus Gets them All.
The followin'? beautiful verses were written for Beth
apy Sunday school, Philadelphia. Avery poor little
girl had saved fourteen cents from her hard earnings
to put into the missionary box. After counting them
over very carefully, otusduy when she was sick aud un
able to leave her bed, she handed the pennies to her
mother, with the urgent request, “See that Jesus gets
them all.”
There is time for work and pleasure,
Time to sen e, both God aud man,
And each mitfute we should measure,
For it ne’er comes back again.
Use the precious moments reaching
Forward to tbs jasper wail.
And, the way ‘i-o others teaching,
See that Jesus gets them all.
We have eachlamp for guiding
Souls from (darkness into light—
Should a bushel, then, be hiding
What will make our pathway bright?
Let your light so shine around you
That men, S£«irg, may not fall;
And its rays will reach to heaven—
- See that Jesus gets them all.
God has given each a talent,!
We have all« work to do, g
For each one there is employment,
There is a labor set for too. ,
Use the talents fie hath given,
Be they eith/. great or small;
They are passppUs into heaven
See that Jesus gets them all.
God (so says fr. old. old story,)
In His nu&ruTaoed a soul,
That It may wit a Him in glory
Live, while omtless ages roll.
Cast upon the Lord your burden,
Hear the Saviour’s gentle call;
Let your souls to Him be given—
See that Jesit gets them all.
Do not, time abusing,
Hide aw*) y precious light;
But each oiu “A valent using.
Love ihe Sv Atxr and do right.
Then, when end this life’s contentions,
And our bodies reach the pall,
In Ills house mansions,
He will see tipi’s room for all.
—S. S. Workman,. -;-*y
.... , ' Af- ■ ■■ -» ■
Why are Sabbath So|.ov»ls so thinly Attended*
Christians do not feel the responsibility
resting upon tneiri <>f always letting their
lights shine. Wh*c they fail to attend any
institution that has hr its object, the advance
ment of the Redeemer's cause, they place
their light under SLbushel, and cannot in
fluence others by their example, because oth
ers see n > good in them. Providential hin
drance only, is a just*reason for church mem
bers to stay away from any institution that
has for its object the advaucemeut of Christ’s
kingdom, —we mean at their own church.
The Sunday school has for its object the ad
vancement of Christ’s cause, and church mem
bers should engage in it as heartily as they
do in any other religious work, but they do
not. Why ? many reasons urged,
but not one good one. Let as notice a few
reasons why church members do not attend
Sunday schools, and see if they or any of them
are sustained by scripture.
Some say they . nnot do anything if they
go. Well you can i'Nfiy do no good by stay
ing away; your example may, yes, will have
a bad influence on some one else, and you be
come a stumbling block, and injure the cause
of Christ.
Some say it is too confining every Sunday,
and we cannot see our friends and have a good
time. You have six days for all your worldly
enjoymeut. God requires only one, in seven,
for his service. Are you unwilling to give God
Lis own ? Some say the weather is too bad, the
roads are too muddy to go a few miles to meet
a few children. Wouldp’ou not go twice as far
for any worldly enjoyment ? Is not a man's
soul all that is worth anything? Some work
too hard in the week to go to Sunday school
on Sunday. What will it profit a man if he
gain the whole world and lose his soul ?
There are many llkV reasons why people
stay away from thy school. But
there Are others the foregoing.
One great drawback toflTie Sunday school,
especially in the country that church mem
bers attending to at church; by
it they lose their inmcJlce upon the young
with whom they are thrown. Frequently
when the hour arrives the school not
more than two or three male members are in
the house, and nearly all the boys, belonging
to the school, are out with them. Those in
the house see them, ai i their minds are turn
ed away from their ie.-Von. Another cause
why schools are not better attended, is want
of brotherly love among the members.—
Brethren expose each other’s faults too much,
forgetting they are not clear of faults them
selves. But the greatest cause why our Sun
day schools are so thinly attended is a want
of faith and neglect of prayer.
Let us work and trust in God, for all things
are in his hands, and he will reward us for
our labors in the Sunday school if we labor
for the advancement of Christ’s kingdom by
trying to train the young in the nurture and
admonition of the Lord?' Dear readers, do
any of the excuses rnfegri med, or any similar
ones, keep you from tfccjbunday school ? Go
to God and ask him icTfe Ip you to overcome
every thing that presents your attending the
school, and if you ask m faith your prayer
will be answered. S.
How to Interest Parents.
At a late Institute of Rhode Island teach
ers, held at Warren, the fallowing views were
presented by William T. Peck, of the War
ren High School, on the “Methods of Interest
ing parents iu the School.” They apply to
the Sunday as well as the secular school:
From the very nature of the case, the ques
tion here proposed seerrursi very strange one
for us to consider. Wo should naturally ex
pect that the parents of our scholars, the fath
ers and mothers of ion they love dear
er than life itself, w&uld rather of their own
accord come forward with earnest desire to
know the teachers s to whom their children
were entrusted. But, strange as it may seem,
this is seldom the case. What oan those pa
rents say who never once tried to interest
their children in the school wort , who never
came forward to >/treng*oif»i tint’arms of the
teachers in their labors? Mhat can they say,
since they have done notfs*£; to prevent it, if
their loved ones become a curse to themselves
and to those who love th-**a ?
To interest the parent* the teacher must
strive to interest the -scholars. If the child
loves the school, if a pleasant
place, that love will be pokon of and that
pleasure will be carrier! his home. How
important is it, then, thaMve strive to inter
est our scholars, for this Reason no less than
for the sake of their education, since inter
est is the key to all acquisition; that which
is learned from curiosity will ever prove the
most permanent knowledge. To awaken
this interest will often rctfme a long time of
patient labor. Defeat wul come before vic
tory, and perhaps almost despair before suc
cess. And yet, when we consider the price
less value of these souls stitch we are influ
encing and moulding, is there for
whom we should not be w iling to make the
greatest effort.
The truly successful teacher will make his
scholars feel that he is a fr---nd to them, will
ing to sacrifice himself for f'Teir interests and
anxiously laboring for their highest good.
When the pupils really believe and know this,
then they are interested-'-; him and must
ia time love the school.
The Sunday School.
That the Chuorh should I ibor to teach re
ligious truth to the young in some such meth
od as the Sabbath-school, is*which they shall
be regularly instructed by l< asons directly ad
dressed to them and adapted to their capaci
ties, may appear ovident from a few simple
principles, which we will suggest without at
tempting to expand them : \. The perma
nent »power of Bible truth over the soul—
over the understanding, the conscience and the
heart. 2. The still greater force and efficien
cy of that truth when imparted to the mind in
childhood and youth. 3. The importance and ne
cessity of frequent, repeated, continual, patient
and persevering instruction. 4. To bring up
our children “in the nurture and admonition of
the Lord,” needs the aid of every competent
teacher, every lawful means, every possible
opportunity, every attainable help; and after
ail, we shall have to mourn over the little we
accomplish. —Southern Presbyterian .
Children’s Mistakes.
Language never serves its proper purposes
unless it is clearly understood. Plain and
simple words are therefore to be preferred.
The meaning of all terms which arc new, or
are employed in anew sense, should be fully
explained with such illustrations, repetitions
and questions as will absolutely prevent mis
takes.
Teachers of the infant department find it of
ten difficult to get the words of fainilar hymns
properly into the minds of their charge.—
The most curious blunders are constantly
occurring. One set of children long insisted
on singing a line of the “Happy Land”—
“ Where saints and glory stand instead of
“ Saints in glory;” and, again, “ Worthy
is our Savior’s king,” not understanding that
“ Savior-King” was the title of the Lord Je
sus. One of our eontempories tells of a lit
tle girl, who came home singing with earns
e9tness, “ I’m glad I’m in this saw mill,” in
stead of in this army.” It may be doubted
whether the words “I’m glad I’m in this army”
convey to the children the idea intended espe
cially when, as in our version, joined with,
“ I’ll battle for the school.” We are glad to
see some judicious person has altered this to
“I’ll battle for the right.” “Battle for the
school,” indeed, what kind of teaching is that?
The plain English of it must be, fight ? A
bright little girl of five years, nearly related
to the writer, came home one day from the
infant class, and began to strike her younger
brother and sister. To her mother’s aston
ishment, she said when reproved, “I must
fight if 1 want to be a little Christian. That’s
what the teacher told us.”
Avery little boy who attended a kinder
garten, and was very fond oft% lesson on Nat
ural History, broke forth one day at the din
ner table, “ 1 want to tell you what I learned
to-day ! The teachers told us all about oys
ters, not the kind we eat, but the kind that
have feathers on, and she said thiy run about
in the sandy desert with cantelopes.” It was
not easy for the auditors to command their
voices sufficiently to tell him that his teacher
had been talking about ostriches and ante
lopes. After another lesson, he came home
with th3 information that “most all his clothes
’specially his pocket handkerchief, were made
out of wax” (flax no doubt.)
The Sunday-School Spirit.
The Sunday-school spirit is the spirit of a
child. Only a child-heart can ever influence
and teach children. Many people never were
children, never felt like children ; they were
burdened, ambitious, old fashioned men and
women when they were quite young; there
was no bright gay, sunshiny gladness in
them; no littleness in them. Such people
cannot succeed as teachers; there is noth
ing in them akin to a child. Then oth
ers have lost the child-spirit out of mem
ory and out of experience; toil and care
and self-intere9t fill up their souls now, aud
all that is freshest and greenest in life and
memory has passed away. Their own little
ones are almost afraid of them, and shut up
their souls at father’s coming, as the tiny
flowers close up their blossoms when cold,
damp night is drawing on. Such people can
not succeed as teachers. To be successful,
you must have a child-heart in you, that it
shall seem to you a child is’the most beautiful
thing in all the world, and you find in every
prayer you offer, ajoetition going up : “ Lord
give me the spirit oV a child, even of thy holy
child Jesus.” Only a child-heart can give
you a true sympathy with children ; can set
you on their level ; enables you to take, a
place beside their littleness ; really to under
stand their thoughts and feelings; adapt the
truth you would teach them to their capaci
ty, and arrange your very language aud style
so as to be full of the very holiest power up
on them. How shall you gain this spirit and
how keep it? The answer is very simple.
more of a Christian than you have been ;
be a better Christian. The more a Christian,
the more like a child ; the less a Christian, the
more just a poor burdened weary toiling
man.
Faith for Present Results.
One evening at a teachers’ meeting a stran
ger was present; quaint and unattractive in
appearance, but with a rugged eloquence in
his voice, which will not soon bo forgotten by
those who heard him speak.
“My friends,” he said, ! I have listened
while you have talked together about your
classes, while you have cheered each other
with hope of the harvest to be one day gar
nered from this field of your toil. Now let
an old man ask one question. Why are you
so sure that this harvest is only in the fu
ture ? In God’s word there is no future ; it
is now. Why not plead for his own now be
fore him, and expect abundant answer ? Dis
couraged faces have spoken to-night more
clearly than your lips even, saying that the
answer delays coming and fruit is far dis
tant. Is this not because you don’t expect
anything else? If you are working only for
the future, be not discouraged ; look for
ward to that future—which alas ! may never
come to you and your pipils. But if you
would have these young hearts led to the
Saviour now, before the world has taken film
hold of them; if you labor in the present,
listen to the word which rings down the ages.
Is there any reaon why these classes should
not come to Christ now ? As of old, Christ
asked the blind, to day he asks you, teachers,
‘Bebevest thou 1 am able to do this?’
“Whatever your answer, the response chang
es not: ‘According to your faith, be it done
unto you.'”
Our teachers’ meeting never again hoard
that strange but loving voice; we know not
if ita owner lives yet upon this earth. But
his words have lived, and of all who heard
him there is not one teacher who does not
thank him for the utterance. More than one
bowed low in sorrowful penitence, and prom
ised to have Taith for to day, and work in the
present; more than one has proved that faith
ful indeed are the wounds of a friend. When
six months later my boys and I were parted,
I knew that of the seven sad faces that watch
ed me from the receding dock, some I should
surely see in heaven, if no more on earth. For
they each had a hope, sure and steadfast, and
were my brothers in Christ. And to-day 1
hold in my hand '& letter which bids mo re
joice that of my flock only one remains with
out the fold of the good Shepherd.
Very humbly the words rise—dear friends
might it not be better if we had each less fu
ture and more present faith.
Superintendents
I have watch and the movements of the super
intendents of several Sunday-schools with
grest interest. Asa General rule they are
men who have the weight of souls on their
hearts, —and they labor with great energy and
relf-denial for their benefit.
Permit a suggestion or two.
1, Guard the extremes of levity and solem
nity when talkiug to the children. I think
the latter extreme is quite as dangerous as
the former in some respects. If the superin
tendent is always solemn, extremely so when
he speak,* to the children, they soon get the
impression that he is dull. It will not injure
the school to laugh once in a while.
2. Make your remarks short. Say what
you have upon the lesson, or other matters in
short, sharp and brisk sentences and when
you have said it don’t repeat it. It is killing
to the school to listen to long talks no matter
how good. An older sister said “ How good
brother ,did talk to the school!” but the
little daughter replied : “ Dear me, he talks
so long and so sober.” Receive this kindly
from Baptist Teacher.
Deplorable if not Culpable.
It is said that at a recent meeting of the lu
diana State Convention, a minister stated that
of thirteen churches in his association, only
five had Sunday schools; that four of these
five were Union schools.
This is certainly a deplorable record, if in
deed we may not brand it culpable. Think of
it; but owe Baptist school in an association of
thirteen churches! Commenting on this case
The Macedonian Record says : “ And this is
no uncommon case. Avery great number
of churches have no school. And hundreds
upon hundreds of Baptists are sustaining
union schools. Brethren, is this wise? Has
your church, has the denomination, ever gain
ed anything from a union school ? Union
mission schools are better than none. But
a uniou school in a Baptist church is not to
be thought of.”
We should beglad to believe that we have
an exaggerated statement here, but we fear
it is too true. We need a denominatinnal
work, or our denominational existence is un
necessary. To every Baptist church, we be
lieve fidelity to Jesus calls for a Baptist
school. God speed the day of practical re
sponses ! — Baptist Teacher..
Conviction of Sin in Children.
He who looks upon childhood’s offences as
anything less than actual sins, will make a
very poor Sunday school teacher. If their
evil doings are regarded only as infantile,
charged mainly to animal instinct, ignorance,
or temperament, instead of flowing from a de
praved heart and disposition ; or if they arc
foibles to be tolerated and endured fora giv
en period, that the child may no longer hank
er after them, but be seasoned,as against meas
les or whooping cough—such views are|not the
stuff whereof good Sunday school teachers are
made.
Coleridge gave such a theorist u forcible
object-lesson by taking him to see a field of
weeds, which he passed off as his botanical
garden. “ But it is covered with weeds,” ob
jected the champion of “wild oats” views.
“Oh!’ replied Colerige, “ that is because it
has not yet come to years of discretion and
choice. The weeds, you see, have taken the
liberty to grow, and 1 thought it unfair to prej
udice the soil towards roses and strawber
ries.”
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No mother should ever be without a bottle of the EX
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Mothers, be Advised! Keep it on Hand.
This dread disease requires prompt action ; as soon as
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PRICK SI.OO.
Sen', by- mail on receipt of price. For sale by
all Druggists. CRAWFORD & WALKER,
Proprietors,
2492—1 y West Point, Georgia.
SEWING MACHINES.
yy HEELER & WILSON
IMPROVED SILENT
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500,000 Now in Use.
Awarded the Gold Medal at Paris Exposition,
AND THE
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Every Machine Warranted for Three Years.
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Southern Agents.
Office No. 1, PeGive’s Opera]House, Atlanta, Ga.
1516
STOVES.
rpHE STEWART COOK STOVE
WITH DUMPING GRATE.
LATEST IMPROVEMENT! BEST IN THE WORLD
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has maintained an acknowledged superiority over all
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at Oloversville, N. lwith one Stewart Stove:
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?c 0 nl ed 1 bttrr f »[ water; also, 17 gallons heated to
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Descriptive Pamphlets furnished on application
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BUSINESS CARDS
QARPETS, CURTAINS, &c.
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Churches furnished at low rates. Ministers o
the gospel also. Orders solicited. 2487-60 t
M.ENEELY’S BELLS. ~
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a\«6o*kjfy, BELLS for Churches, Academies,
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TRAVELER S GUIDE?
Western and Atlantic Railroad Cos.
E. W. COLE,, Superintendent, Atlanta
Night Passenger Train— Out tea rd.
Leave Atlanta 10:15 p.m
Arrive at Chattanooga 5:40 i.m
Day Passenger Train—Outward.
Leave Atlanta 8:15 a.m
Arrive at Chattanooga 4:35 p. M
Accommodation Train — Outward.
Leave Atlanta 3 00 p.M
Arrive ot Cartersville 6:11 p.m
Night Passenger Train — lnward.
Leave Chattanooga 9:00 p.m
Arrive at Atlanta 5:17 a.m
Day Passenger Train — lnward.
Leave Chattanooga. 5:50 a.m
Arrive at Atlanta „ 2:00 p.m
Accommodation Train — lnward.
Leave Cartersville 0:00 a m
Arrive at Atlanta 9:00 a.m
Georgia Railroad.
S. K. JOHNSON, Superintendent. Augusta.
Day Passenger TYairt.
Leave Augusta 8:00 a.m.
Leave Atlanta 7:10 a.m.
Arrive at Augusta. .5:40 p.m.
Arrive at Atlanta ..« 35 p.m
Night Passenger and Mail Train.
Leave Augusta 8:20 r^m
Leave Atlanta 1 0:00
Arrive at Augusta 7;3q^H
Arrive at Atlanta O lCnilH
Athens Branch train leaves Union Point
Sunday excepted, at 1:15 p.m , arriving at Athens at
4:35 p.m. Leave Athens at 9:J5a.m., arriviug at Union
Point 12:30 p:m. On Monday and Tuegdav nights, a
train leaves Union Point at 2:20 a.m., arrives at Ath
ens, 5:15 a.m. ; leaves Athens, 8 p.m., arriving a.
Union Point, U p.m.
Washington Branch.—Train leaves Washington
at 10 A.M., arrives at Barnett, 11:30 A.M.; leaves
Barnett 2:15 P.M., arriving at Washington at 4:10
P.M. On Mondny and Tuesday nights, leaves Wash
ington at 10:20 P.M., arriving at Barnett, 12 at night.
Leaves Barnett, 1:50 A.W., arrives at Washington,
3:30 A.M.
Macon and Augusta Railroad.—Train leaves
Camak, 12:40 P.M., arriving at Milledgeville Junotion
4:20 P.M.; leaves Junction at 0:15 A.M., arriving at
Camak, 9:25 A.M. Connects Augusta with 8. Caro
lina, Charlotte, Columbia and Augusta, and Augusta
with Savannah Railroad.
Atlanta and West-Point Railroad.
L. P. GRANT, Superintendent, Atlanta.
Day Passenger Train—Outward.
Leave Atlanta 7:00 A.M.
Arrive at West Point 11:40 A.M
Day Passenger Train — lnward.
Leave West Point 5:16 P.M.
Arrive at Atlanta 10:00 P.M
Night Freight and Passenger — Outward.
Leave Atlanta 3:00 P.M.
Arrive at West Point 10:46 P.M.
Night Freight and Passenger — lnward.
Leave West Point 3:00 A.M.
Arrive at Atlanta 10:07 A.M.
Hacon and Western Kailroad.
A. J. WHITE, President, Macon.
Day Passenger Train.
Leave Atlanta 6:00 A.M.
Arrive At Macon 11:30 A.M.
Leave Macon 7:20 A.M.
Arrive at Atlanta 2.23 P.M.
Night Express Pastenger Train — Daily.
Leave Atlanta 3:28 P.M.
Arrive at Macon 11:06 P.M.
Leave Macon 5:06 P.M.
Arrive at Atlanta 10:15 P.M.
Air-Line Railroad.
A S. BUFORD, President.
Leave Atlanta for Norcross every Wednesday and
Friday at 5 a.m., connecting at Norcross with stages
for Gainesville. Leave Norcross at 4 r.v. Passen
gers reach Gainesville the name day.
Xashvllls and Chattanooga Railroad-
J. W. THOMAS, Superintendeyf^Ektkville.
Day Passenger Train.yU
Leave Nashville 9:30 A.M
Arrive at Chattanooga. . 4:10 P.M
Leave Chattanooga 3:45 A.M
Arrive at Nashville 1:30 P.M
Night Passenger Train.
Leave Nashville 6:15 P.M.
Arrive at Chattanooga 4:30 A.M.
Leave Chattanooga 6:00 P.M.
Arrive at Nashville 5:00 A.M.
Night trains ruu daily; day trains run daily, Sun
days excepted.
Both trains connect at .Chattanooga for Rome, At
lanta, and all principal Southern cities.
South Georgia and Florida Railroad,
H. S. HAINES, General Superintendent.
Express Passenger Train.
Leave Savannah every day at 4:00 P.M
Arrive at Jessup (Junction M. & B. R. R.)
every day at 6:56 P.M.
Arrive at Live Oak every day at 1:36 A.M.
Arrive at Jacksonville every day at 619 A.M.
Arrive at Tallahassee every day at 6 22 A M.
Arrive ot Quincy every day at 8:27 A.M.
ArniVeat Baitibridge every day at... 6:15 A M.
Arrive at Albany every day at 7:15 A.M.
Leave Albany every day at 7:00 P.M.
Leave Bainbridge every day at 7;45 P.M.
Leave Quincy every day at-..- 5:42 P.M.
Leave Tallahassee every day at 7:42 P.M.
Leave Jacksonville every dny at 7:47 P.M.
Leave Live Oak every day at 12:45 A.M.
Leave Jessup every day at 7:20 A.M.
Arrive at Savannah every day at 10:20 A-M-
Macon Accommodation.
Leave Savannah (Sundays excepted) at.. .5:00 A.M
Leave Jessup (Sundays excepted) st... -. .8:30 A.M
Arrive at Macon (Sundays excepted) at 6:15 P.M
Leave Macon (Sundays excepted) at 9:16 A M.
Leave Jessup (Sundays excepted) at. 7:15 P.M.
Arrive at Savannah (Sundays excepted) at.10:15 P.M
No change of cars between Savannah and Albany
Passenger* for Bainbridge change cars at Thoroas
ville.
Passengers for Brunswick take 4 P.M. train from
Savannah.
Passengers from Brunswick connect at Jessup with
train for Savannah, arriving at 10:20 A M.
Passengers leaving Macon at 9:15 A.M., connect at
Jessup with train for Florida and Western Division.
A Passenger Oar will he attached to Way Freight
Train leaving Savannah Tuesday and Thursday at 7
A.M., and arriving Wednesday and Friday at 3:80
P.M. . t