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EDUCATIONAL.
The leading School and Teachers Bureau
•f the South and Southwest la the
National Bureau of Education.
Mibb Crosthwait and J.W. BLAia.PropTi
Wilcox Building, Nashville, Tenn
Send stamp for Informal on. I'-’mcbly
SCHOOL of TKHNOLOGTKI*™™
in Georgia is entltleu U> six free scholarships in
this inatl utlon. Fall term begins September St).
For particulars address HALL,
President.
The Atlanta Business College.
23 WHITEHALL STREET.
Is the only College of Actual Business Training
and Benn Pitman Shorthand in Atlanta. It was
awarded the Medal and First Prise by the Jury of
Awards of the Cotton States and International
Reposition, over all competitors, for “Methods of
Initruction.” Send for catalogues.
Southwest Virginia Institute
For Young Women an i Girls.
The most complete and be*’. equipped
school for young women In the South. 222
pupils in attendance last session. For 11
lustrated catalogues, apply to
SAM’L D. JONES, Pres ,
ijuly2ot Bristol, Va.-Tenn.
WASHINGTON & LEE~
CNITKRSITY, Uxisgtoß, Virginis.
Academic; Law; Engineering. Opens
Sept. 10. For catalogue, address
v G. W. C. LEE, President.
VANDERBILT UNIVERSITY
NASHVILLE, TENN.
Next Session Opens September 16th
Full graduate as well as under graduate
course!. Tetr Fellowships for college grad
uates. Seven departments—Academic, En
gineering, Biblical. Law, Pharmaceutical,
Dental, Medical. Fully equlppld labora
tories and mununu.
WILS WILLIAMS, Secretary.
july2eow«
Locust Grove Institute,
LOCUST GROVE, GA.
Broad and thorough preparation for Col
lege and I niverslty Classes; also, \ ociil an<l
Instrumental Music, Elocution and Book
k<*t*pir g.
Suitable location on Southern Railroad
85 miles Southeast of Atlanta, surrounded
by superior farming land.
Co-opeiatlw Club Board In per month.
Good family board to 110 per month.
Begins September 7th, Address
Y. E. BARGERON, Principal.
15july<lt
Southern
Seminary.
Thirty-eighth year, 11 instructors, 318
students. Nine separate schools; each
study except Greek and Hebrew may be
completed in a single session. Special
courses, including wide range of topic-.
Four degrees: Th. G., Th. 8., Th. M.
and Th. D., which may be gained in
two, three and four years. Tuition and
room rent free; no fees. If help is
needed to pay board, write to Rev. E.
C. Dargan, Louisville, Ky. For cata
logues and other information write to
Bev. Wm. H. Whitaitt, Louisville, Ky.
LAW SCHOOL
Mercer University,
MACON, CA.
Young men Intending to study law are
Invited to Investigate the many advantages
of this school. Address
CLEM P. STEED, Sec’ty,
julv2tf Macon, Ga.
WINCHESTER "»^ E6E .
Both.sexeß.-Llterature,Muslc,/ it,, El
ocution. Commerce. Location healthful and
beautiful 1000 ft. above sea level Session be
gins r ng. 5, iswi. r V Clark, Pres., Win
chester, Tenn, Send for catalogue.
25june8m
LAW SCHOOL
WASHINGTON AND LEE UNIVERSITY ,
Lexington, Virginia.
° Pen J S O P I | P ; Dfan.
Washington College
FOR YOUNG LADIES-
Thorough courses. Experienced faculty . Su
perior home accommodations and °PP“[tu
nlttes for social culture. Charming I<>cation
Buildings in a beautiful park of ten acres,
and overlook the Capitol, other Government
buildings, arid N^“ 0 E n ’ p °resWent’
J. ROBERT GOULD, Hec'y.
2July«t Washington, D. U.
RANDOLPH-MACON WOMAN’S COLLEGE
1 vnrlibiirtfa Va.» comparer in courses, facilities,
one-lmlt the cost of tuition is paid from endow-
BJPnt income, and P?‘* r 2 n L A g ,‘e Zrta-r ?Fhb*
S?h u P ®AT!?d^ed T c&ro?^m?n o
the strongest in the South. Is it not worth a postal
*” Pre«t?'wiN. I 'w. sivHTHr’A. M./IL.D.'’ 6-
VIRGINIACOLLEGE
For YOUNG LADIES, Roanoke,Va.
Opens Sept. 10.1896. One ol the leading Schools
for Young Ladies in the South. Magnificent
buildings, all modem improvements. Campus
ten acres. Grand mountain scenery in Valley of
Va.. famed for health. European and American
teachers. Full course. Superior advantages in
Art and Music. Students from twenty States
For catalogues address the President.
MATTIE P. HARRIS, Roanoke, Virginia.
Shorter College forYoung Ladies,
ROME, GEORGIA.
Next Session Opens Sept. 16th, 181)6.
High and healthful situation, grand scen
ery .every material comfort am .conven
ience. High standard of scholarship. Ac
complished specialists as teachers. Hand
some endowment, Kindly and home like
Influences. Free literary tuition to minis
terß‘ daugters. Board and College tuition
reduced to "100 per term of 4% months. Ap
ply to &.* -I BATTLE.
18junel3t
TEACHERS’ BUREAU. T «B?*s.
We have at present several hundred more
vacancies than teachers. Address Rev Dr.
O. M. Sutton. A. M., Manager.
SOUTHERN TEACHERS’ BU REAU,
16juiyH Louisville, Ky.
EDUCATIONAL.— The School Agency,
Birmingham, Ala., recommends suit
ible teachers free of cost to schools,
colleges and families. Write and state
particulars. 2aprtf
Notice to Teachers!
WE WANT the name and -address o
everv enterprising teacher in the
south. j»-Bend stamp for Teachers
Ha CHARLES J. PARKER, Manager,
Teachers’ Aid Association,
28apr«m Raleigh, N.C.
Borne
department
PASS IT ON.
BY HUSKY BURTON, M.A.
Have you had n kindness shown?
Pass it on;
'Twas not given for thee alone,
Pass Jt on;
Let it travel down the years,
Let it wipe another's fears,
Till in heaven the deefl appears—
Pass Hon.
Did yon hear the loving word—
Pass it on;
Like the singing of a bird ?
Pass it on;
Let its music live and grow,
Let it cheer another's woe,
You have reaped what others sow,
Pass it on
'Twas the sunshine of a smile—
Pass It on:
Staying but a little whllel
Pass it on.
April beam, the little thing.
Still it wakes the flowers of spring,
Mukes the sllenl birds to sing—
Puss it on.
Have you found the heavenly light ?
Pass It on;
Souls are groping In the night,
Daylight gone;
Hold thy lighted lamp on high,
Be a star In some one's sky.
He may live who else would die,
Pass It on.
Be not selfish In thy greed, •
Pass it on;
Look upon thy brother's need,
Pass it on;
Live for self, you live In vain,
Live for Christ, you I've again.
Live for Him, with Him you reign
Pass It on.
‘ The Legend Beautiful."
There is a legend of a monk
who was at his devotions,to whom
was granted a blessed vision of
the Master:
“Then amid his exaltation,
Loud the convent bell appalling,
From its belfry calling, calling,
Rang through court and corridor
With persistent iteration
He had never heard before.”
It was the hour when the blind
and halt and lame, and all the
beggars of the street came to re
ceive their dole of food, and this
monk, now on his knees before
the vision,was almoner that day.
Should he go, or should he stay?
Then a voice came:
“Do thy duty ; that is best
Leave unto thy Lord the rest.”
So he arose and hastened away,
did his service among the poor,
and came again to find the vision
standing where he had left it.
“Through the long hour intervening
It had waited his return,
And he felt bis bosem burn,
Comprehending all the meaning,
When the Blessed Vision said,
‘Hadst thou stayed I must have fled.’ ”
There is a lesson in this “Le
gend Beautiful” for us. The ec
tasy of communion must never
detain us from life’s common
task-work. We cannot keep the
rapture of devotion if we neglect
the duty of service. Worship is
meant to fit us for better work,
never to make us less ready for
any tasks.
Love Blossinf Too Late.
There is a great host of weary
men and women, toiling on
through life toward the grave,
who most sorely need, just now,
the cheering words and helpful
ministries which we can give.
The incense is gathering to scat
ter about their coffins; but why
should it not be scattered in the
hard paths on which their feet
to day are treading? The kind
words are lying in men’s hearts
unexpressed, trembling on their
tongues unvoiced, which will be
spoken by and by, when these
weary ones are sleeping; but
why should they not be spoken
now, when they are needed so
much, and when their accents
would give such cheer and hope?
The flowers are growing to
strew on their graves; but why
not cut them now to brighten
dreary lives and dark paths?
Many a good man goes through
life, plain, plodding, living ob
scurely yet a true, Christian life,
doing many a quiet kindness to
his neighbors and friends, yet
seldom hearing a word of com
mendation or praise. The vases,
filled with the incense of affec
tion, are kept sealed. The flow
ers are not cut from the stems.
One day you stand by his coffin,
and there are enough kind things
said to have brightened every
hour of his life, if only they had
been said at the right time.
There are enough flowers piled
upon his casket to have kept his
chamber filled with fragrance all
through his years, if only they
had been sent day by day. How
his heavy heart would have
thanked God, if, in the midst of
his toils, burdens and struggles,
he could have heard a few of the
words of affection and approval
that are now wasted on ears that
hear them not! How much hap
pier he would have been in his
weary days if he had known how
many generous friends he had!
But, poor man, he had to die be
fore the appreciation could ex
press itself. Then the gentle
words spoken over his cold form
he could not hear. The love
blossomed out too late.
Read Your Bible Daily.—
The celebrated painter, Benja
min Robert Haydon, gave the
following admirable advice to his
son, at a very critical time of his
life; “You are quite right to
read history; make yourself mas
ter of the histories of Greece and
Rome. The English people are
in many respects not unlike the
Athenians, without their proflig
acy. Read your Bible daily.
There is no more interesting
book in the world, and it is be
coming more necessary to read
it and study it, because I already
THE CHRISTIAN INDEX : THURSDAY. JULY 80, 1896.
perceive a tendency among our
scientific men, in all their pride
of knowledge and what they call
discovery, to set the Bible aside
as an Oriental legend. Do not
believe them. The Mosaic ac
count of the creation is the most
simple and the most natural, and
will be found, you may rely on
it, confirmed by science when
science has got down to the real
facts. Generalization, founded
on our present knowledge of the
laws of nature, is the very thing
which our present acquaintance
with those laws does not justify.
I am convinced that no thorough
ly established and settled theory
will be found to contradict the
truths revealed in the Bible.
But you are too young yet for me
to enter further on the subject.
I only tell you of it to put you on
guard. You will find many men,
old and grown up men, who will
laugh at the Bible. Don’t be
lieve them. Mathematics are all
very well; but the differential
calculus, my dear boy, can never
prove or disprove the existence
of God. Read your Bible, do
your duty, and leave the rest to
God.”
How a Man Goes to Sleep.—
“Order is heaven’s first law,” and
the old truth is manifested even
in the precess of going to sleep.
When a man drops off to sleep,
his body does not do so all at
once, so to speak. Some senses
become dormant before others,
and always in the same order.
As he becomes drowsy, the eyes
close, and the sense of seeing is
at rest. It is quickly followed
by the disappearance of the sense
of taste He next loses the sense
of smell, and then after a short
interval the tympanum becomes
insensible to sound, or rather the
nerves which run to the brain
from it fail to arouse any sense
of hearing. The last sense to
leave is that of touch, and in
some hypersensitive people it is
hardly evir dormant. Even in
their case, however, there is no
discriminating power or sense of
what touched them. This sense
is also the first to return upon
awakening. Then hearing fol
lows suit; after that taste, and
then the eye becomes able to
flash impressions back to the
brain. The sense of smell, odd
ly enough, though it is by no
means the first to go, is the last
to come back.
The same gradual loss of pow
er is observed in the muscles and
sinews, as well as in the senses.
Slumber begins at the feet, and
slowly spreads up the limbs and
trunk until it reaches the brain,
when unconsciousness is com
plete, and the whole body is at
rest. This is why sleep is im
possible when the feet are cold.
A preacher at a popular sum
mer resort hotel met a lady ac
quaintance late one morning on
her way to the breakfast room.
A remark as to the lateness of
the hour brought the response:
“lam late this morning because
I was so weary when I retired
last evening. I danced at the bail
until I blistered my feet.” “ Ah!”
said he, “ may I ask if you ever
blistered your feet in the service
of your Redeemer?” A scornful
look and a hasty retreat was the
result. For several days the de
votee of fashion avoided the
blunt minister, but one day she
came to him and said, with tears
in her eyes: “ I feel God has for
given me, and I come to ask your
pardon, and that you will tell me
how I can blister my feet in the
service of Christ. I will do any
thing to atone for the waste and
folly of the past. It has been
so heartless of me.”
Nobody would ever have
thought of the heathen but for
the Bible and when once the Bi
ble is shut up, missions will shut
down.
Kitty’s Happy Thought.
She was named “ Mary Adelia” after
her best grandmother, but was called
“Kitty” after herself—her little pur
ring, cuddling, clinging self. Grand
mothers, of course, must have babies
■ ‘named after” them, but it would have
been perfectly absurd to have really
called a baby like Kitty Bly, “Mary
Adelia.” She was such a soft, comfor
table, happy sort of baby, her little
fingers curling around yours close, if
you but held one out to her; and if you
took her, she nestled up into your neck
at once, and, if you wished her to, went
to sleep there; or she would quietly lie
on your lap in the sunshine an hour at
a time, her bright blue eyes blinking
and her soft, rosy little mouth smiling
with a baby’s heavenly fancies
“O, you happy little Kitty! ” the tired,
glad mother used to murmur involun
tarily as she bent over the crib to take
her cooing baby. If she had been a
cross, crying baby, I don’t know what
Mrs. Bly would have done— she'd have
hated babies, I guess, for she had to
sew every moment of her time, sew for
the clothing stores, to buy bread and
meat and wood and the fifty other
things a family must have; for Kitty’s
papa, Mr. Bly, was what is called “a
poor stick,” but in my opinion he was
only a straw, for you can lean some
what on a stick, but if you leaned on
Mr. Bly for the least little thing he
gave way and went to the ground, and
you might pick yourself up and go and
get, or do, whatever it was you wished
or you wouldn’t have it.
As I said, Mrs. Bly had to sew every
minute for bread and meat and wood,
and if there was a minute when she
wasn’t sewing for bread and meat and
wood, she was cooking the bread and
meat, or else bringing in the wood to
cook them with.
So, when baby came, what if baby
had been cross ?
But we won't worry about that, for
baby was not cross. She wasn’t much
more trouble than a kitten, and Mrs.
Bly blessed every minute she made—
the way she “made a minute" was doing
the work of ten minutes in nine—to
hold her baby, her soft, purring, con
tented, bright eyed baby.
And when the little Kitty girl became
independent of the crib and began to
play about on the floor—Oh, what kit
tenish bothers and gambols there were
—what fun with the spool of thread
that would unravel forever! what
pounce on mamma's slipper as it peeped
out at baby like a mouse ami then
swiftly hid again! What gay, fast
creepings to catch hold of mamma’s
skirts when mamma got up to see to the
dinners and suppers!
All this is to tell you how Kitty Bly
came by her name. Amt you don t sup
pose, do you, that after a baby has had
a sweet, dear little name for six or
eight years, she is going to give it up
suddenly and be called “Mary Adelia? ”
Mrs. Bly expected to call her “Mary
Adelia” some time, of course, but as
she never felt like doing it just then,
time went on and Kitty Bly remained
Kitty Bly.
It was quite a long kittenhood Kitty-
Bly had—ten years. She had never, so
to speak, missed the saucer of warm
milk, the soft rug, the stroking hand,
the tender voice—happy little cat -and
occasionally the plumpest, sweetest lit
tle mice were laid at her feet, at Chrii t
mas time if at no other—a gay horn of
pure delicate candies, a new doll, a
beautiful ribbon to tie her bonnie
brown hair, and always her own maga
zine. Even that pool- straw effigy of a
man, her father, would weakly deposit
a five cent-piece by Kitty’s plate Christ
mas mornings, and say, “You can buy
some gum, or suthin', whatever tie you
want most. ” As if a dainty girl like
Kitty Bly would “chew gum ! ”
But at last there came a time, O, such
a dark time, darker for Kitty's mother
than for Kitty, for Kitty, being but ten
years old, could scarcely ‘sense things;”
but Mrs. Bly felt it would have been
much better for her little girl if she
had indeed been born only a kitten, with
a born right and a born instinct to ran
at large and pick up crumbs wherever
she could find them, instead of a little
human being who must have her bread
and butter bought for her, and a new
suit of fur every year.
Mrs. Bly had been gradually losing
her health; and now she had at last
been suddenly taken with a slow
rheumatic fever. She had to lie in bed
all day, and could not even so much as
look at her sewing. For the first two
or three days, the broad misfortune of
this state of affairs was not apparent to
Kitty; but on the third morning, when
she brought the slice of nicely browned
toast with a spoonful of hot milk and
butter poured over it, and her mamma
had finished the dainty breakfast and
she had said, “Mamma, dear, this is
the last loaf, I must go out and get
some more, mustn’t I?”—then it was
that Kitty had her first startling glimpse
of what it is to “get a living.”
For then it was that Mrs. Bly turned
her face to the wall and sobbed;and oh,
can you think how dreadful it must be
for a little girl to see her mother cry as
hard as she can cry ?
“Why, mamma, dear, ” Kitty said at
last, “is there no money?”
"No,” said Mrs. Bly, with a fresh
sob, “there is no money. I paid the
rent with the last. I never thought I
should be taken down so suddenly. I
always meant to have a little saved. ”
Kitty didn’t say anything for a long
time, indeed what cou d a child of ten
say? She stole her hand into her
mother’s, and sat biting tier lips—poor
little kitten —trying to think.
' Mamin'',’ she said at last, “Mr. Crane
would let -s have a loaf without the
money for once, don’t you think he
would? ”
“For once, O yes,” answered Mrs.
Bly, “but not for weeks; and Kitty,
your poor mamma may lie here for
weeks and weeks unable. to take a
stitch.”
Through all her soft little body Kitty
shivered. She had never discussed
with her mamma why her papa earned
no money, and she instinctively re
frained from mentioning him now. In
stead, for she was her mamma’s girl,
not like her papa, she bravely took up
her first hard experience as a woman,
heaving her first woman’s sigh as she
asked herself that strange, strange, big
question, that sad woman’s question:
“Isn't there something I can do to get
some money?”
At last Mrs. Bly said, clasping the
little hand doser, and looking up into
rhe thoughtful little face, “There is but
one thing to be done, I suppose. Go
out and get some bread for to-day. We
must have bread to day. ”
“Yes, mamma,” replied Kitty, slow
ly; but her voice growing cheerier with
every word, “we must have something
to eat, mamma, that's sure, or we shall
be too weak to think what it is we had
better do ”
Kitty made herself ready to go. Then
she came again to the bedside.
‘ Mamma,” said she, “could we live
on just bread?”
“I suppose we coaid just live on just
bread,” her mother replied.
“Well, mamma, I know I can get just
bread. ”
Kitty skipped down the walk lightly,
I am afraid I must say she hippity
hopped, but then people forgive almost
anything to happiness, and Kitty was
happy. Everybody had a pleasant
smile for the little rosy hippity-hopping
girl. Mr. Crane served her with a loaf,
smiling when she told him she couldn’t
pay to day. “And maybe,” said Kitty,
looking up in h’s face, “I shall want a
loaf every day this week without bring
ing the money, for mamma is sick; but
it will be paid. I will see it's paid, Mr.
Crane.”
“All right,” said the baker, and he
was a baker who never “trusted.”
“Queer! ” said he. after Kitty was gone,
“but I’ll be bound it won’t turn out a
bad debt.”
Meanwhile Kitty skipped on down to
the clothing store “I will take some
overalls, ” she said. ‘ I know I can make
overalls. I’ve sewed up my dress
breadths on the machine, and I know I
can do it—mamma isn’t too sick to show
me about the buttonholes, and they
don’t care how overalls are made, any
way, and it would be sure to get our
bread. ”
“I’ll take two pairs of overalls,” Kit
ty said, at the work counter.
“Getting lazy, eh?” said the cutter.
“Mamma is not well enough to take
more,” said Kitty.
“Sick, eh? that’s bad! I had some
vests for her. Shall 1 give ’em to some
body else? ’
Kitty said “Yes,” with a trembling in
her voice, for she instinctively felt it a
momentous matter to give her mother’s
work away to somebody else; work that
was so difficult to get, work that barely
sufficed to support them. And what
if he knew she meant to make the work
she was taking out ?
With her loaf and her bundle, Kitty
started for home. On her way, not
quite so skipping now, she paused be ■
fore the show window of a large seed
store.
There were always pots of flowering
plants in the window, and Mr. Hewlett,
the youngest member of the firm, had
more than once invited Kitty in, notic
ing her bright, happy, longing face, I
suppose; and thus it happened that Kitty
knew more of botany and horticulture
than she did of almost anything else in
the world.
This morning there was something
new in the window,a long row of potted
plants, with dark, handsome, evergreen
leaves; spreading and sheltering, each
budded and blossoming with pretty
starry flowers.
“Why, those, those are strawberry
plants!” Kitty cried out.
“ Yes," said Mr. Hewlett in the door,
“ they are for my wife's Christmas din
ner.”
“ O, O, strawberries at Christmas!
red, ripe, real strawberries in the snow
—jan you do such things ?”
“O, yes, Kitty, and if yon will carry
home one of the pots you shall have a
stem of red strawberries for your
Christmas dinner, too.”
Kitty had her arms full, but she ex
tended them, and Mr. Hewlett laugh
ingly adjusted the pot, and Kitty went
her way, not hippity hopping now, but
singing, thougn, which I suppose is
about as bad in the street.
Well, our little Kitty did make the
overalls; a child of ten can do some
thing toward causing the world to turn
on its axis without a creak if she really
tries; and it lent a ray of life and hope
to the sick mother to see her daughter
basting seams; patiently operating the
sewing machine with her tiny feet and
hands.
“ One leg sewed up !” cried Kitty.
“Two legs sewed up !” cried Kitty.
Not all at once, as I have written it;
oh, no, it was a long task, for some
times the needle would “skip stitches,'’
and at other times there was trouble
with the "tension,” and it always was
a very difficult matter to “ spool the
bobbins,” and once or twice Mrs. Bly
felt she must get up and come to her
child’s relief.
“ There, papa." cried Kitty, when
Mr. Bly came in to dinner from sitting
on the cracker barrel at the corner gro
cery, “ there, papa, I've almost earned
that loaf of bread myself ! See, my
overalls! I did it all my si If, and by
night I shall have the bread paid for,
all myself.”
Mr. Bly opened his sleepy eyes at his
child in astonishment. He turned
away from the bright, glad, unreproach
ing face the next moment with a queer,
strong sensation in his breast, or in his
heart, or in his conscience I don’t
know quite where such a lazy man does
feel. But all the same he sat down and
ate the loaf his child was paying for,
while she toasted a slice for her
mamma.
“ What’s this ?” said he, as he got up
from the table, walking toward the
warm south window where the straw
berry plant was set. He was quite out
of Mrs. Bly’s sight.
“Sh-h!” said Kitty, and she whispered
in his ear.
Mr. Bly lingered around for some mo
ments. He stopped before the bedroom
door. “Sick?" he asked.
“ Anything you want fore Igo?” he
also inquired of Kitty.
“ If you would saw me some wood,”
said Kitty, as if he were the most provi
dent papa in the world.
Mr. Bly was a long time at the wood
pile; and then Kitty saw him going
down the street with the sawbuck and
the saw. She thought that very funny
indeed. But Mr. Bly came back at
night. And when he came he had a
rib of beef in a paper, and he had a pa
per of sugar.
A little girl of ten trying to support
a family was rather too much, even for
Mr. Bly, you see
There were some days, however,
when he wasn't quite so deeply pierced
by the/thought, and those days he went
down to the corner grocery and sat on
the cracker barrel as of old, but really
he did nearly support hie family, after
a fashion, and Mrs. Bly ’s days of sick
ness were the happiest days she had
known for years.
And wasn’t Kitty happy, little cook,
and washerwoman,, and scrubber, and
seamstress, and nurse, preacher and
evangel, all seven in one ? Her straw
berry plant was the poetry of those
days, and Christmas morning—Mr.
Hewlett had calculated so well with his
plants—the berries, three stems of big
crimson fruit, were dead ripe, honey
ripe. Mrs. Bly thought the last days
had all been blessed ones but when
Kitty brought her the Christmas break
fast, muffins on the pretty tray, and
the golden cocoa, and the strawberries,
fresh stems of strawberries, and when
Mr. Bly with a young look on his old
face came behind flourishing a big yel
low chicken, saying: “Don’t eat too
much breakfast, mother, for here’s a
dinner to be eaten, too”—why then
Mrs. Bly turned her face upon her pil
low and sobbed.
“Sho. sho,”said Mr. Bly huskily; and
then suddenly he clasped his wife’s
head and put an arm aroi nd Kitty.
“ Two such women in a house would
make the worst man in the world over,
if he was anybody at all!” said he.
And in those blessed moments of
wonder, gratitude, sweetness and si
lence, the Christmas peace and hope
settled down upon the little family, and
not to lift and depart. For it was that
blessed Christmas, at dinner, that Kitty
had her “happy thought.” She was di
viding a big crimson strawberry with
her father
“ Papa,” said she, “ let’s you and me
raise real outdoor business strawberries
to sell! You know we've got lots of
land. lots. Mr. Hewlett will tell us how,
and you can do the work, and I will
sell ’em. We could, papa !”
Now Mr. Bly was not quite an idiot,
besides, he was just in the mood to
ponder. He knew something of gar
dening, and he could not but see that
there was away to partially support
his family.
“Done, Kitty!” he said. “It’s a
happy thought.”
And it was done, too.
Done with lots of hard work though.
I don't suppose Mr. Bly's work was very
hard; but Kitty thought hers was,
sometimes. Her little arms ached with
hoeing, and her little hands with weed
ing, and her little back with bending
over so much, and her little head with
the sun shining on it. But for all that
she “purred” with happiness through it
all —for did it not keep her father at
home ? And did he not grow so fond
of being at home that he spent all his
leisure time in making the house and
grounds brighter and homey?
That funny Christmas dessert of one
strawberry was two years ago. This
Christmas there will be a big Christmas
turkey on the table, and a glowing des
sert from Kitty’s pots, and there will
be lots of other things; all bousht with
business strawberries; and at the table
will sit a very good-looking and com
fortable man and woman, and a bright
little chatterbox of a girl, purring,
playing and caressing. It will be very
far from this little girl's reflections
that it was her “happy thought,” her
cheery readiness to do what she could
that saved her mother from utter heart
break, her father from a pauper’s shame,
and herself from—well, I hardly know
what —from only hard work, perhaps;
for life and fate couldn’t crush such a
girl as Kitty Bly; her “happy thoughts”
like white, strong arms, would be con
stantly lifting her out of each dark be
faffing.—Ella Furman, in January
Wide Awake.
©hildreii’e ©orner.
lONG AGO
Many, many years ago
Grandma lived—she told me so
ln a great big house, she said;
And she slept upon n bed
Tall and high—so big, utmost
In It children might be lost.
Round the house sweet Howers grew,
Herbs, too—thyme and sage and rue.
Grandma wore a flowered gown,
Anda little battled down:
Shoes with red rosettes she wore;
< >pen was her gown before,
Snowed a skirt of quilted stuff:
Then she was dressed quite fine enough.
All these things to church she wore,
But at school q pinafore.
Grandma called her teacher “ Dame."
Wasn't that a funny name 2
Folks then traveled Ina stage,
And it seemed to take an age
Just to go a little way;
Now It wouldn't take a day.
Grandma says: “.My I bow things change I
Nowadays thlnus s'-em so strangel"
Will It seem a» •' nngetome
Wb li ' in . I< ■ she?
WilA 8 X- .dren so?
Wil. . IGallff” long ago?”
—Selected.
GA., July2o, 189(1
Dear 1M I.x':—l see you have kindly
iriven the children a Corner in your ex
fl llent paper.
I thought I would write; as it affords
me much pleasure. Several times I
have noticed in the Index that you
have asked the different churches to
write you and let you know how they
are getting along. I am a member of
the Hephzibah Baptist church, in Lin
coln county. As 1 have seen nothing
from this church I will write a little
about it We have preaching every
second Sntday and Saturday before.
Our earnest and ever faithful minister
is Bro. J. Y. Hogan, whois very much be
loved by the church. He has been our
pastor ever since 1 can recollect; much
good has been done by his earnest and
faithful work, and I sincerely hope that
much more may be done through his
good work. We also have preaching on
the fourth Sabbath, conducted by Bro.
J. M Hudson. I love both of our pas
tors. lam looking forward to the time
of our protracted meeting, hoping that
we may have a gracious revival and
that many may find Jesus precious to
their souls 1 not only feel interested
in the people and churches of our com
munity, but everywhere the world over.
We have not a very flourishing Sunday
school, but those who attend seem to be
very much interested in it. It has in
creased some. lam in hopes it will
continue to increase. Bro. J. T. Hud
son is our beloved superintendent.
Last second Sunday was Children’s
Day at this church. It was opened with
singing and prayer by our pastor, Bro.
J. Hogan The church was crowded
with people from far and near. There
were nearly as many in the grove as in
the church. The singing of the choir
was very good, indeed The Sabbath
school was addressed first by Bro. J.
M. Hudson and Bro. J. H. Guillebeau
in the morning, and we had several re
citations. We adjourned one hour and
fifteen minutes for dinner. Then our
beloved pastor, Bro. J. Hogan, and Bro.
J. H. Bell, and Bro. A. E. Strother
made excellent addresses. And there
were several more recitations. It was
not closed till about 4 o’clock. The
weather was warm, but I think all
that were present enjoyed themselves.
We had perfect order in the audience.
I love the Index, and think it is nice
in you to give the young folks a Corner.
If this poor little letter escapes the
waste basket I will write again.
Sincerely your friend,
Dell M. Ross
Wadley, Ga., July 19, 1896.
Dear Index (Uncle Jimmie:—l have
been promising for a long time to write
you a letter. But you know I have been
sick so long and lost so much time from
school, I had to study very hard to re
gain my class standing, and consequent
ly had no time.
I was inexpressibly sad yesterday. I
was called to attend the funeral of one
of my dear schoolmates, Miss Maggie
Carswell, of Maxley. She was so good
such a sweet Christian. We attended
a protracted meeting at Maxley the
week before and we enjoyed it. Bro.
Perry clear, of Liuisville, did all the
preaching for Bro. Little. His sermons
were grand. We all fell in love with
him; we loved Bro. Little dearly before,
he is so good and so true.
Our own annual meeting at Wadley
begins on the first Monday in August.
Dr. Beck, of Tennille, is our beloved
pastor. We think he is one of the best
men in Georgia and one of the best
preachers, too. Ido hope we may have
a good meeting; we are praying for it.
Our Sunday-school is still prospering
and the L. M. Society is doing splendid
work. I forgot to tell you there were
five additions at Maxley, all young peo
ple. I hope we may do as well.
Papa’s health is so much better than
when you saw him last. He has re
sumed his practice again.
We look forward with many pleasant
anticipations to Uncle Jimmie's visit.
My health is so much improved I think
I can outwalk him now, but if he
shows signs of fatigue we will hitch up
George to the buggy and I will show
him how well I can drive. Papa, ma
ma and all of us send our best love to
the whole Index family.
Yours in Christian love,
Nina Battle.
-iOHNSTON bTA , July 21, 1896
Dear Index: —I read so many nice
letters in the Corner that you have 'so
kindly given to the children. I think
it is so nice of you to give us an oppor
tunity of hearing from our Cousins all
over the State. Are we not all related ?
Are not our fathers and mothers all of
one family? My heart goes out in love
to them all. First I will answer Ula
Butt's question. Money was first used
by Abraham in buying the cave of
Macpelah for a burying 'place for his
dead. Ephron sold it to him for four
hundred shekels of silver. Gen. 23.
We are living in a very nice little vil
lage. There are two churches, a Mis
sionary Baptist and a Methodist
church. We, the Baptists, have a nice
Sunday-school. We use the Southern
Baptist Convention Series. Our class
use the advanced quarterly. Mama is
our teacher. My father is a Baptist
minister, We know and love Uncle
Jimmie Edens. He has visited us in
our home. He is s i nice. I have read
Earnest Willie, or Echoes from a Re
cluse. It is a lovely book, and I, too,
join with O. K in asking Earnest Wil
lie to write for our Corner sometimes.
I ask the Cousins from every part of
this grand old State to come together
and let us have a social chat in our cozy
little Corner, and let us sit and listen
with delight to our "Gray-haired Moth
er’s talk as she comes in with her inter
esting stories for us little ones.
I am lovingly your little friend,
Addie B. Norris.
Covington, Ga., July 19, 1896.
Dear Index —As you requested the
children to write for the Corner, I will
write a few lines and say that I think
you are very kind to give us an oppor
tunity to squeeze in so cozy a corner as
the Index furnishes tis.
As I am only ten years old, I have not
read many books, but the one I like best
of all is Pilgrim’s Progress. The only
novel I ever read is Jane Eyre. It is so
delightfully “scary" and makes yon
cover up your head after you go to bed
at night. But it scares my big sister
more than it does me—she is so ' ‘scary’’
any way and won’t sleep in a room
away from mama. lam brave and am
three years younger than she.
The pastor or our church is Mr.
Swanson, and we love him. Oh! and I
love to hear Mr. Smith preach. He
tells us about the children at the Or
phans' Home. And Mr. Walker, too.
One time he preached for us and he
preached about heaven -which was just
beautiful.
I will try to answer Ula Butt's ques
tion : Money was first used in the Bi
ble in Genesis 23d chapter and ninth (9)
verse.
Well. I will say good bye, as I do not
want to get into the dreadful waste
basket. With good wishes for the In •
dex and its writers. From
Joy Lee.
Crawford, Ga., July 18, 1896.
Dear Index:—ln last week's In
dex yon asked the children to tell
why the “seeds” you named in the
' "Corner" were so dangerous. I waited
to see this week's paper, thinking that
some of the children would answer. I
have looked over the letters and don’t
find any answers. I will tell you what
I think of them:
1. “There is no danger. ” If in small
temptations wp yield, we will find it
more difficult to resist stronger ones.
2. ‘Only this once.” If we yield,
one time we will find it harder to resist
next time.
3. “Everybody does so.” An un
wise and dangerous plan, eo few worthy
of imitation, so many unsafe to follow.
4. "By and by.” We have no assur
ance of ’by and by.” The present only
is ours.
The Index is a source of great pleas
ure in our family. I am a little girl
twelve years old. I love our Sunday
school; wish the church would take
more interest in the sjhool.
Your little friend,
Marion.
Quitman, Ga,. July 17, 1896,
Dear Index:—As I have been read
ing such nice letters in your paper from
the children, I thought I would write a
few words. We have a very pleasant
Sunday school of about 120 members.
Capt. J G. McCall is superintendent.
I love to go to Sunday school ever so
much. Miss Lula Beesley is mj’ teach
er I will close with best wishes for the
Index.
Yours sincerely,
Rosalie Fitzgerald.
Mary and Her Little Lamb
BY MARY WILLIS.
Every child knows the story of Mary
and her little lamb—the little lamb
who would not be separated from his
little mistress; who followed her to
school and caused such great disorder
among the children that the teacher
would not allow the lamb to attend
school any more. I am sure that all
the little children who know that story
have pictured, as I have pictured,
that dear little lamb wait
ing patiently outside of the door for
Mary to come out, and I am sure they
have thought just as I have, on bright
sunny days when the cool winds were
blowing, when the woods on the way to
school had looked so delightfully entic
ing. that Mary’s little lamb would be
justified in hating school and thinking
it a great prison-house. I do not sup
pose any of us, when we were little,
doubted for a moment that that was a
real story; that there had been a real
Mary who had just such a dear little
loving lamb, with fleece as white as
snow. But when we grow older, and
go out into the big world, and find that
there are people whi scoff at the idea
of George Washington and the cherry
tree, and that there are people who will
not believe that there was a William
Tell who shot the apple off of his boy’s
head, and other dreadful people who
will not believe that there was a real
live Joan d’Arc, and people who tell us
that Sir Walter Raleigh never put his
cloak down for Queen Elizabeth to
walk upon—then there come to ns
doubts as to whether there ever was a
real little Mary with a real little live
lamb who followed her to school. Now,
is it not delightful to know that there
was a little Mary who owned just such
a little lamb? This is the story that is
told!
This little Mary, now a very old lady,
it still alive, and lives in Massachusetts
where so many of the heroes of our nur
sery tales, as well as of our early his
tory, still live. This is the story that
Mary tells: Her father was a farmer.
One night there was born on her fath
er’s farm a little lamb so very weak and
miserable that no one thought it would
live. No .v, like many other little girls
even of to-day, Mary’s heart went right
out to this little weak, sickly lamb. She
felt so sorry for it that she begged her
father to let her take it and nurse it.
He told her she might. She carried the
little lamb into the house, and all day
long she attended to it tenderly and
faithfully. She kept it very warm at
night, and the next day she began again
acting as the devoted nurse of the little
lamb. The third day the lamb had
grown so much stronger that the farmer
felt sure it would live, and he told
Mary that the lamb should be hers.
She was perfectly delighted at the
thought of the lamb belonging to her,
and immediately gave it the attention
that a mother would give to a little sick
baby. It grew stronger every day, and
its love for Mary was so great that it
followed her everywhere that she went.
The lamb was so miserable when sep
arated from her that Mary allowed it
privileges of which even the family did
not approve. The time came for Mary
to go to school, and the lamb followed
her. In the school that Mary attended
was a boy who wrote the poetry on
Mary and the lamb. The poet’s name
we do not know. The lamb grew up
and had lambs of its own, but its
friendship for Mary and its devotion to
her in nowise abated. One day, the
story is told, Mary was driving the cows
from pasture, followed by her little four
footed friend. As- they were going
across the meadow one of the cows at
tacked the lamb, now a big white sheep,
and hurt it so oadly that it died. Mary’s
grief was very great. The fleece was
taken from the pet's body, and Mary
spun it with her own hands into yarn,
part of which she kept among her
treasures The other day there was a
fair in Boston. Some one heard of
Mary and her treasured fleece from her
famous lamb, and she was persuaded
to sell part of the fleece, and to come
herself to the fair and to sell it to the
ladies who wished to buy. So now if
any one doubts the story of Mary and
the little lamb, you can tell them this,
that Mary is alive to day in Massachu
setts, and has among her treasures yarn
spun from the fleece of her beloved
lamb.
FOR SLEEPLESSNESS
Take Horsford’s Acid Phosphate.
Dr. Patrick Booth, Oxford, N. C., says:
“Have seen It act admirably In insomnia,
especially of old people and convalescents.
A refreshing drink In hot weather and In
cases of fevers."
7