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[ Warner’s Safe Cure i
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Miss Crosth wait and J.W. Blair,Prop’n
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Send stamp for informer .on. r.'inchly
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Classical School at Rome, Ga.
On the first Monday of September, 1896 the under
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LOVE LIGHTENS LABOR
A good wife rose from her bed one morn,
And thought with a nervous dread
Os the piles of clothes to be washed, and
more
Than a dozen mouths to be fed;
Os tne meals to get for the men In the Held,
And the children to tlx away
To school, and the milk to be skimmed and
churned;
And all to be done that day.
It had mined In the n ght, and all the wood
Was wet as It could be;
There were puddings and pies to bake, be
sides
A loaf of cake for tea.
And th, day was hot, and her aching head
Throbbed wearily as she said,
“ If maidens knew what good wives know,
They would be in no haste to wed!"
‘■Jennie, what do you think 1 told Ben
Brown?"
Called the farmer from the well;
And a flush crept up to his bronzed brow,
Ai d his eyes half bashfully fell;
“ It was this,” he said, and coming near,
He smiled, and stooping down
Kissed her cheek—-*'twas this, that you were
the best
And dearest wife in town I"
The farmer went back to the Held and the
wife,
in a smiling and absent way.
Bang snatches of tender little songs
She’d not sung for many a day.
And the pain In her head was gone, and the
clothes
Were as white as the foam of the sea;
Her bread was light, and her butter was
sweet,
And golden as It could be.
"Just think," the children all called tn a
breath
"Tom Wood has run off to sea:
He wouldn t, 1 know, if he only had
As happy home as we.'
The night came down and the good wife
smiled
To herielf, as she softly said:
“ 'Tls so sweet to labor for those we love,
It's not strange that maids will wed 1"
—Selected.
Thou Shalt Not be Afraid —Ps.9l:s
[Some time ago a lady friend
wrote to one of the now editors
of the Index, asking him for an
explanation of the passage
quoted above. It was written
and sent to her, and now she
sends it to us, asking that we
give it place in the paper. At
her request we do so.—Ed. |
I was sitting once on thepiazzi
of a country home, watching a
hen with her chickens feeding
about in the yard. While I was
looking at them a large bird flew
by overhead. The hen sounded
a note of alarm, fearing a hawk.
Instantly the little ones ran to
her, uttering as they went their
little cries of fright. In less
time than it takes to tell it, they
were all bundled under her
wings. Theie was not another
frightened cry from any of them
but instead could be heard soft
chirrups which told to the listen
er that there was no fear in the
little chicks. They were not
afraid of anything after they got
under those wings. They felt
perfectly safe. There might
have been a hawk there, or some
worse enemy, but they had no
fear of it. As soon as they had
found refuge under those wings
all fear was gone. Nowhere else
would they have felt perfectly
safe. There they did.
Close abiding with Gjd begets
in a Christian’s heart a trust
which banishes a being afraid—
not only of those things which
pertain to the soul and its eter
nal interests, but those, as well,
which pertain to this present
life and its interests. To the
soul that would draw near to
him and abide, the “Most High”
comes down very near, the pow
er of the “Almighty” envelops
him; this Almighty one becomes
to him “Jehovah,” his covenant
God, and of him he is able to say
“My God, in whom I trust.”
Where -then is the place for
fear—for being “afraid?”
The dangers may be very pres
ent, very apparent, staring the
child of God in the face, yet fear
of them be absent, because he is
under the protection, in the very
keeping,of his God, and all those
are under his control. The night
terror and the day-flying arrow,
the pestilence that walks with its
silent tread in the hours when
men sleep and the wasting de
struction of the broad noon, are
all in the end his servants and
he says “Go,” and they go, and
“Stay,” and they stay. Just to
day I received a letter from a
friend who, speaking of the
small-pox which seems about to
become epidemic in our country,
says, “I am not nervous about
sickness and diseases —that same
hand is ever about us.” Was Dr.
Sylvanus Landrum “afraid”
when he faced yellow fever in
Memphis in 1878, and saw “a
thousand fall at his side”? I
think not. John G Paton, the
apostle of the New Hebrides, was
not “afraid” when, time and
again, he stood face to face with
infuriated savages, cannibals,
intent upon his death and sworn
to compass it. Danger was very
apparent and death seemed very
near to Mr. Moody and the ship’s
company, when they were
some years ago overtaken
by a fearful storm on the
Atlantic. All hope seemed lost
and terror reigned until this man
of trust gathered the terror
stricken ones in the cabin, and
by words read from God’s book
and prayer, carried them into the
“secret place of the Most High,”
when terror gave place to calm
ness and trust brought peace to
many a heart. Paul was in very
great danger when he wrote the
Epistle to the Philippians, but
that epistle is a song of rejoic
ing.
It is said that some years ago
an eminent physician in St. Pe
tersburg recommended this 91st
Psalm as the best prescription
against cholera. If its readers
could have caught the spirit of
THE CHRISTIAN INDEX: THURSDAY. OCTOBER 1,1896.
its author, doubtless it would
have proved a preservative to
many.
Let us see to it that we dwell
in the secret place of the Most
High, abiding under the shadow
of the Almighty: then shall we
prove in our own experience the
declaration of the Psalmist,
“Thou shalt not bi afraid.”
“As Unto the Lord.”
She was only a poor, plain,
freckled woman, whose clothes
were of the fashion her mother
might have worn, yet, day by
day, as she busily plied her iron,
many an humble neighbor would
stop by her door to listen to the
quaint old hymns she sang so
vigorously.
“My good woman," said Mrs.
G , who had called to en-
gage her services, “how can you
stand all day in this hot room,
always ironing, and yet sing so
cheerily?”
“Ah, my good lady,” she re
plied, “the Lord has given me
this work to do; sowhen I’m tired
and out of sorts I say to myself
that verse about doing things
heartily, as unto the Lord, and
try to think how I’d feel if I
could see him standing by my
side and he knew I had an un
willing heart for his tasks. Then
I sing my brightest hymns, and
while my iron smooths out the
wrinkles in the clothes I’m plan
ning how to smooth out the
rough places in my neighbor’s
1 ves.
“There’s poor Granny Jones,
left alone all day. She’s crip
pled with rheuuatics, and nearly
blind, too. When I sing, it
cheers her up a bit, and she feels
as if some one cared for her.
“Little Tommy Green in the
room above me, has a weakness
in his back, and lies on his cot
bed from morning till night- His
mother works in a factory and
doesn’t come home till dark.
When he’s lonely and sick with
the pain, he pounds on the floor
with a stick and I sing the hymns
he likes best, and he lies quiet
and hums them over to himself
till he falls asleep. Then once
in awhile I slip up with a cup of
water and bits of picture-papers
that come wrapped around the
clothes, and give him a pleasant
word. Ah, ma’am, the Lord’s so
good to me I must try to help
them that have few blessings.”
And this thankful woman lived
in a little hot room, spending her
whole life ironing and smoothing
out wrinkles for others. What
shall we render unto the Lord
for all his mercies ts us?—Ameri
can Messenger.
The Gift of a Voice.—One
would hardly think that a cow
was influenced by music, but it
seems she is. In Switzerland
this fact is so well understood
that a milk man or maid gets bet
ter wages if gifted with a good
voce. Expc i nents hate be r
mane, and it has been found that
a cow gives one-fifth more milk
if soothed during the milking by
a pleasing melody. At the fa
mous horse stables in California
a cross word is never heard, nor
are the stable-boys or grooms
permitted to swear while work
ing about their charges. It will
be a new idea to many children,
however, that cows and horses
thus appreciate gentleness and
harmony.
There is an impression among
some people that a man is a bet
ter man after having tasted sin,
after knowing evil experience;
then repenting, being forgiven
and restored. This is a mistak
en impression. Innocence is far
better than penitence. Peni
tence is infinitely better than de
spair, but a life is never so beau
tiful after sin’s fires have swept
over it, as it would have been if
it had been kept untarnished and
had realized God’s first thought
for it. — J. R. Miller, D.D.
The Story of a Chain.—Did you
ever read the story that Dr. Miller tells
about the chain that an old blacksmith
made? He lived in the heart of a great
city, and all day long people could hear
the clanging of his hammer upon the
anvil, and they knew that he was forg
ing a chain. Now and then idlers
dropped in to watch his work, and as
they saw how faithful and patient he
was and how he would never pass over
a link till it was absolutely perfect,
they laughed at him and told him he
would get ever so much more accom
plished if he did not take so much pains.
But the old smith only shook his head
and kept on doing his best, making
every link as strong as if the whole
chain depended upon it.
At last he died and was laid away in the
church-yard, and the great chain that
lay in the corner of his shop was put on
board a ship. It was coiled up.out of
the way and for a long time no one
noticed it. But there came a fierce,
wild wind in the winter when the wind
blew a gale, and the rain dashed down
in -torrents, and the vivid lightning
darted through the sky. The ship
toiled through the waves and strained
and groaned as she obeyed the helm.
It took three men to guide her. They
let go her anchor, and the great chain
went rattling over the side of the deck
into the gloomy waves At last the
anchor touched the bottom, and the
chain made by the old blacksmith grew
as taut and stiff as a bar of iron.
Would it hold?
That was the question everyone asked
as the gale increased. If one link, just
one link, was imperfect and weak, they
were lost. But the faithful old smith
had done his best in each link. Each
had been perfect, and this night his
work defied the tempest, and when at
length the waves were still and the sun
arose, the vessel, with all her precious
lives, was safe.
Every duty faithfully performed is a
well-formed link in the chain of life
Let honesty, purity, holine-*s, mark
every day, and the chain thus made will
stand the strain of the severest gales in
life's voyage.
The Mischievous Brownie-A Fable.
BY ELIZABETH I*. ALLAN.
Once upon a time there was a little
boy who had for a companion a
Brownie out of the woods. This
Brownie was a pleasant fellow, 1 can
tell you; he knew how to cool the air
in niid-suinmer, and how to keep you
snug in winter time. If you were
tirtd, lie rested you; if you weie cross,
he lulled you to sleep; he persuaded
you to put off hard studies, and read
only pleasant books; he insisted that
long walks were not good for you, acd
that it was some other fellow’s business
to do all the things you d d not want
to do.
Do you wonder that Boy I ked him
But Boy’s mother knew something
about his tricks,’and often warned her
son against the Brownie.
One day when Boy and ids mother
were out walking tiny met a man
in a sorry plight; he was ragged
and dirty and faint witli hunger
“What is the matter - .’’’ cried Boy.
“Alas!” said the man, “that mis
chievous Brownie" (calling ids name,
which I haven’t told you yet), “made
me believe be was my friend, but
presently lie brought a wild beast out
of the woods, which lias torn down my
house, and almost d< stroyed me; the
beast's name is Poverty.”
Soon after this Boy heard of one who
was so ignorant and stupid that no one
could trust him with work.
“Was he never taught to work'.’”
Boy asked.
“They tried to teacli him when he
was young,” one amwered, “but he
would do nothing but play witli that
mischievous Brownie, who tore up his
books and broke his tools.”
There came a dark night when a rob
ber broke into Boy’s home, intending,
perhaps, to mi-rder as well as steal;
fortunately they seized and bouud him,
and when he was asked what brought
him to do such wickedness, lie groaned
aloud, and said it al) came of listening
to the Brownie.
“Come, Brownie! ” criid Boy at last,
“you have got to go ! 1 will not listen
to you another day.”
So Boy’s mother gave him a wldp
with three lashes: one was Industry,
one was Patience and one was Perse
verance. But the curious tiling about
this whip was, that Boy had to use it
on himself! When he did this faith
fully, the mischievous Brownie fled
howling away.
Did the whip hurt when Boy used
it on himself? Well, just at first it
stung a little, but by and by it ceased
to hurt at all, and only gave Boy a de
lightful glow and a bounding pulse.
Now I have told you this story about
the m schievous Brownie, because I
have heard, dear little listener, that
he has been seen prowling around your
hous*! I want you to beware of him
and his snares forever. And Ids name
is Idleness. —Selected.
The Old Clerk.
It was noon, but the desk nearest
the window in the great city library
was still vacant The clerks whis
pered together, and the boys who car
ried books to the alcoves glanced at it
uneasily.
“ Old Peyton,” they said,' “ lias been
here for twenty years and never
missed a day before.!’ One of the boys
watered his flowen-1 for the deaf old
clerk had his windew full of growing
plants.
The chief librarian came out of his
office. “ Mr. Peyton is dead,” he said
abruptly. “Found dead in his bed
last night. It is in the morning’s pa
per ’
The library was always quiet, but a
great silence' filled it during that day,
The boys stopped skylarkh g, and the
clerks made no comments to each
other, even about the dead man. Mr.
Peyton had been very deaf, and rarely
spoke to them. But as they looked at
the vacant stool, and lemembered the
lean, bent figure in its shabby clothes,
and the kindly old face, it seemed as
if a strong help had suddenly dropped
out of their lives.
In the office the chief discussid the
dead man with a director.
“Never was a life such a failure,”
he said. “ Peyton was a fine Greek
scholar. He gave his youth and mid
dle age to his book on Greece. His
whole heart was in his work. He put
into it great research and learning.
But Schliemann’s discoveries suddenly
proved all his theories false. There is
bis book on the shelves, worthless;
covered with dust. Nobody reads it.
Then he li st his hearing He coulfl
noteven teach Greek. He was only
fit for clerical work, which barely
kept him alive He had no wife nor
child. A wasted life, sir ! A wasted
life! ”
“You will go to the funeral?” said
his friend, rising to go out.
“ Most certainly!” said the chief,
hotly. “ Why, there is no man living
for whom I feel as I did for Peyton !
I could tell you things of the lofty
honorof that old fellow, his tenderness,
his charity. O, you know a man when
you live with him twenty years ! No
clergyman ever made Christianity
real to me as he did.”
Meanwhile the oid clerk lay still and
cold on his cot in his little chamber.
It was a bare room, for lie had been
very poor On a shelf was his great
work, which even lie had not opened
for years.
Was it a failure ? Had his life failed
withit? A miniature picture of his
mother, a young, beautiful woman
hungover it.
“ Perhaps she knows why God let
my work go for nothing,” Peyton used
to think, as he looked at her. “ I
don’t understand ”
His Irish landlady was in the room
all day. She told every one who came
how the old clerk had cared for her
and her children for years. How he
had kept Mike at work and stopped
Ben from the drink.
The neighbors came, hard-working,
intelligent folk, and each had a story
to tell of advice or help which he had
given them in some strait of their
lives.
From the policeman on his round to
the cripple news-boy at the corner, he
had been a friend and wise father to
them all.
Later in the day the clerks came,and
the boys from the library. They
brought bunches of flowers and with
tears laid them on his breast, thinking
of kind words and deeds which were as
natural to the poor clerk as his breath.
They did not notice the great work
of his life on the shelf overhead, the
woik that hail failed They only knew
that one of God’s helpers had gone out
of the world, and mourned for him.
His mother's face smiled down, as it
had always done, wefl content, upon
her son. And up >n the dead man’s
face there was now a strange, listening
look, as of one who was called home
and heard his welcome. —Youth’s Com
panion.
©lxildren’e (Corner,
THE BOY.
When you hear a fearful racket
Llkea miniature cyclone,
With some sounds so strange that surely
Their like was never known,
While the mother listens < ulinly,
Even with a smiling face,
You may know that It Is nothing
Hut the boy about the place.
W hen there's famine in the cupboard,
And the milk i nil soon runs dry,
And you can't keep pies or cookies,
No mai ter how you try,
When you vainly seek for apples
That have gone and left no trace,
Hard times Is not the trouble—
There’s a boy about the place.
When there’s sawdust on the carpet,
And some shavings on the beds,
When the rugs are tossed in corners,
And your cnairs stand on their heads,
While, If a tool you're needing, you
Ail round the house must race,
You ma' know he's making something,
Is the boy aoout the place.
When the house is full of sunshine
On the darkest kind of day,
And you have to laugh at seeing
Some outlandish, boyish play,
And when eyes so bright and loving
Oft are raised to meet your face,
You will pray, I know, " God bless him,
Bless our boy about the place.”
—Vaciflc Coast Endeavorer.
Powelton, Ga., Sept. 15. 1896.
Dear Index:—l was glad to see my
little letter in the Children’s Corner.
I promised to write again and tell of
our Sunday school and church.
Mr. Yancey Pernell is our superin
tendent. and Mrs. Sallie Rainwater is
my teacher. I love to go to Sunday
school and love my teacher dearly.
Miss Jennie Rainwater is organist.
Our school is not large in number but
earnest in work.
I must now tell you about our meet
ing in August. Bro B. H Ivey, our
pastor, had no preacher’s help.
We had a good meeting, beginning on
Friday and closing the next Thursday.
Six were baptized, four little girls, one
gentleman and one young lady, and one
was restored.
Three of the little girls were Mrs. Sal
lie Rainwater’s Sunday school scholars,
and your little friend one of them. The
other little girl is my cousin. Her
mamma died when she was a little baby
My papa says that a gentleman told
him that Dr A J. Battle read my first
letter, and that it brought to his mind
sweet memories of Powelton. I ask
him and all the Christian men and wo
men who feel an interest in our village
on account of past memories, to pray
the Father that the four little girls
baptized here at our August meeting
may work and live for Jesus all their
lives.
Your little friend,
Mera Chapman.
Warnerville. Ga., Sept. 14. 96.
Dear Index:—l want to tell you of
one of the most pleasant and inemora
bie days of the year, “ Grandpa's birth
day.” Grandpa’s and grandma’s birth
day’s are in August, one the 16ch and
the other the 20th. Up to grandma's
death they would alternate the celebra
tion of the days. Since her death, of
course only the ce'ebration of grandpa’s
is observed. He gives a “big dinner”
and earnestly desires to have all his chil
dren spend the day with him. We just
have the jolliest time imaginable, until
just before we leave, and then it is so
sad to think of parting. We all drive
out to the cemetery and place our floral
offerings on grandma's grave, as a token
that we still cherish her memory.
Grandpa celebrated his eighty-fourth
birthday on the 20th of last month. He
says he wants his children to meet on
that day after his death.
He has been taking the Index over
fifty years. Mamma and papa take it
also. So you see we all love the dear
old paper.
I am a little girl eleven years old, and
my fears of the “ waste basket ” have
kept me from writing sooner.
Your little friend,
Opal McKnight.
Brunswick, Ga., Sept. 15, 1896
Dear Index:—As yon are so kind as
to give us a Corner, 1 thought I would
stop a moment from my play and write
a few lines. lam a little girl only nine
years old. Mamma takes the Index
and she and I enjoy reading it very
much. We have a Baptist church
here and Rev Walter M. Gilmore is
our pastor. We all like him very much,
and I think we could not have a better
preacher. We have preaching every
Sunday morning and evening, Sunday
school every Sunday afternoon, and
prayer-meeting every Wednesday even
ing.
Dr. G. W. Blanton is our superin
tendent and Mr. F. E Twitty is our
assistant superintendent. Last Sunday
was “ rally ” day and we had a right
big crowd. I will close for fear my
letter should find its way to the waste
basket. Yonr little friend,
Annie May Arnold.
Norwood, Ga , Sept. 15, 1896.
Dear Index:—As my letter escaped
the waste basket, I will write again,
hoping it will escape too. I love to
to read the dear old Index. Our Sun
day-school is holding on well. We have
a large one. Igo every Sunday. We
have not had any protracted meeting
yet. Mr. Davis, our pastor, has been
sick, so he could not come. We had
meeting last Saturday and Sunday at
William’s Creek church. The church
is about one hundred and thirteen
years old. Our protracted meeting
will commence on Thursday night be
fore the second Sunday in October, and
last until Monday night. 1 hope we
will have a good meeting. I hope Mrs.
A C. Kiddoo will write for the Chil
dren’s Corner again. I will close for
fear that I will write too much. If I
see this printed I will write again.
Your little friend,
Della Hendrick.
Plainville. Ga., Sept 19. ’96.
Dear Index:—Our church at this
place has had a glorious meeting of ten
days. The members were strengthen
ed spiritually, and souls awakened to a
sense of their Christian duty. Nine
teen were added to the church, thirteen
by baptism, five by restoration and one
by letter. Our pastor, Rev. P. J. Dsa
son, was assisted by Rev. M. L Keith,
a student of Mercer University. Mr.
Keith is a young man. but an able
preacher, and we predict for him great
success in the future.
We have an ever green Sabbath
school. Mr. J. M. Putney is superin
tendent, and a better one would be
hard to find. Wishing the “ good old
Index great success, 1 will close.
Bannie
Calhoun, Ga., Sept. 14, 1896.
Dear Index:—l want to tell you
about our Children’s day. It is going
to be the fourth Sunday in this month.
I started to school two weeks ago. Our
protracted meeting will begin next
meeting. We have about sixty two pu
pits in our school. I went to-Sunday
school yesterday and we had a good
school. There were about sixty-two
present. Well, as it is time to go to
school, 1 will close with best wishes to
the Index.
Your friend.
Della Echols.
Auburn, Ga .Sept. 18, 1896.
Dear Index:—l hope yon will allow
me a space in the “Children’s Corner.”
My heart is filled with gladness when
I read the sweet letters that have been
written by the dear boys and girls of
our own State. And I trust all of them
are Christians.
Now, boys and girls, let’s go to work
and build up this Corner, which has
been given to us by the kind editors,
and make it as interesting as the older
people’s part of the paper, All of you
write again, and get some little friend
to write. We should appreciate the
Children's Corner” very much, and
work to improve it.
We have a very good Sunday school,
and Prof J. C. Newman, of Atlanta, is
the pastor of the Baptist church, and a
teacher of Perry Rainey College. I
think he is capable of being both a
teacher and a preacher.
“Earnest Willie” has been here, and I
think he is such a pious young man. I
have one of his new books, and I have
fallen in love with it, too It suits
young and old. Every father should
get one for his boys and girls and him
self, too.
This is the first year I have ever no
ticed the Index very much, and now it
is one of the dearest papers we have,
and I am a subscriber for it. I must
say that a home is not complete without
the Index.
I hops we children will have good suc
cess with our “Corner.” May it prove a
blessing to us and our readers.
May God bless the Index and all of
the good work that is being done.
As this is my first attempt to write, I
will close. If I see this in print I will
write airain.
Your faithful friend,
Dora Cain.
Bowman. Ga , Sept. 16,1896.
Dear Index:—l thought I would
write again. There have been some
changes in the Sunday-school since 1
wrote you last. Mr. Allen Ginn is now
superintendent. There was one addi
tion to the church during the September
meeting Some write about the books
they read. I have read “Swiss Family
Robinson” almost through, but it did
not belong to me. lam now in pot ses
sion of a book entitled “Our Home,”
but have not read it through. I would
like to correspond with some boy or
girl about my age, thirteen.
“Uncle Jimmie,” come down to Re
hoboth sometime about the first Sunday.
He must certainly do that. One other
thing; he must ceitainly be at the Asso
ciation which meets at Bowman.
Andy Smith.
Buchanan, Ga., Sept. 17, 1896.
Dear Index: —As my first letter es
caped the waste basket I thought I
would try another I have three little
brothers and two little sisters. My
grandpa has named my baby brother
Willie Bryan, after the Democratic
nominee. My grandfather has not
walked any in thirteen years, from pa
ralysis. We have a beautiful little town
with two nice churches, Baptist and
Methodist. We have a population of
about 400. My papa and mamma be
long to the Baptist church. We have a
nice courthouse and several nice store
houses. lam delighted to read the let
ters from the cousins, especially the one
from the little cousin in China. I am
glad to know that there are so many
turning from their idols and worship
ping the true God. I close, with many
thanks to you and love to the Children’s
Corner. Respectfully.
Essie Auchmutey.
"Vineyard, Ga., Sept. 13 1896.
Dear Index:—As I have just laid you
aside for the first time this afternoon, 1
cannot resist the temptation of writing,
especially when I see so many beautiful
letters from the little boys and girls.
Yes, and some of them from beloved
brethren of our neighboring churches.
I also enjoyed the sad, sweet story “Ade
laid.” Heretofore I haven’t taken much
interest in reading any papers; but I
think from this out the reading of the
Index will occupy most of my idle mo
ments Now. I hope this will escape the
waste basket, and if it does, maybe I
will be encouraged to write again.
Please pardon uiy intruding (being a
stranger); but, however, I would like to
get acquainted with every subscriber of
the dear old Index.
From a Baptist girl and friend.
Cordelia Hall.
Rayle, Ga., Sept, 18, 1896,
Dear Index:—l enjoy reading the
Children’s Corner very much, and
thought I would write you a short letter
We attend Sunday school at Sardis
church, and have a very good Sunday
school but not many in attendance. Mr.
William Callaway was our superinten
dent but he died last year. His nephew,
Mr. Web Callaway, is the superinten
dent now and Rev. B. M. Callaway is
our pastor. We like them both very
much. Well, as this is my first letter to
any paper I will close, for I am afraid it
will find its way to the waste basket.
By-by Your little friend,
Susie Rayle.
College Park, Ga., Sept 15, 1896.
Dear Index: —Our papa has been
quite sick, but is better now. We do
not go to school yet, but we go to Sun
day school and we like it very much.
September 6th. we attended Sunday
school at Ingleside, Ga.. and we en
joyed it very much. And while there I
saw our Cousin Bettie Hataway.but did
not yet acquainted with her. We also
saw Mr. Collier, pastor of Decatur
church.
While there we enjoyed the hospital
ity of our aunt, Mrs. Farrar, and also
Hon. J. H. Dabney. He has a charm
ing wife That is a delightful climate
and such nice people. We can’t write
well yet, but hope to improve.
Your little friends.
C. C. and Edgar Littlejohn.
Lump Kin, Ga , Sept. 15,1896.
Dear Index:—l like to read the
Children’s Corner, and I thought I
would try to write. We have a good
Sunday school here at County Line.
Mr. W. H Spooner is our superintend
ent I think it would be hard to find a
man that would make a better one. We
have preaching here every second Sun
day. Rev. W. W. Arnold is our pastor.
We all like him very much. We don’t
think we could do without Bro. Arnold.
Papa takes the Index. I like to read
it very much. lam not a member of
the church, but I expect to be. I will
close now, and if you print this I may
write again.
Yours truly,
Cora Mai Brown.
Cadley, Warren Co. ,Ga. .Sept. 14.’96-
Dear Index:—l enjoy the Children's
Corner so much that I will try to write
a few lines. Papa is our superintendent
and Rev. T. B West is our pastor, and
has been fora number of years, and we
love him very much. Mr. J. B. Ivy is my
Sunday-school teacher; we also love him
very much. We haven’t a very large
Sunday-school,: but a very good one
for a country school.
Your little friend.
Claudius L. McGinty.
Dover, Ga , Sept. 8, 1896.
Dear Index :• -I have been thinking of
writing for the Children s Corner for a
long time, but I hardly know how to
begin. I go to Sunday school every
Sunday morning. My father 8 M. Pat
rick, is the superintendent of our Sun
day school. My teacher is Aunt Emma
Heidght. We have a right good Sun
day-school. We have preaching every
first Sunday and Saturday. Rev. J. 8.
Knowles is our pastor. He is earnest and
faithful, and is loved by the church very
much. We have prayer-meeting every
Sunday night I will close with my best
wishes to the Index.
If this poor little letter escapes the
waste basket, I will write again. 1 am
only 10 years old.
Your little friend,
May Patrick.
Niagara River and Falls.
Niagara river is between the United
States and Canada, flowing from Like
Erie to Lake Ontario; length, 33 miles.
Near Lake Erie it contains a large
island, called Grand Island. Some
miles below this it is narrowed to less
than a mile, and is divided into two
parts by Goat Island. On the other
side of this island the water rushes
down a long incline, called Niagara
rapids, and at the foot of these it falls
over a precipice, forming the Cataract
of Niagara, the grandest in the world.
Goat Island, which ends at the cataract,
divides it into two parts. That on the
American side is 164 feet high, while
the fall nearest to Canada is only 150
feet; but the Canada fall is much
broader, forming a curve like a horse
shoe, with the hollow side turned down
the stream. Great clouds of spray rise
from the falls, and the roar of the wa
ter can be heard many miles away.
From the American side there is a
bridge above the falls to Goat Island;
and on the other side of the island a
small ridge leads to a rock, almost on
the edge of the Canada falls. On this is a
tower called the Terrapin Tower, from
which there is a magnificent view of
the falls. The rock which forms the
top of the precipice is harder than that
below, which has been worn away by
the water, forming a hollow, called the
Cave of the Winds. Visitors, clad in
oilskin suits to protect them from the
spray, go into the cave behind the falls,
but it is almost impossible to hear or
see there, and few care to make a sec
ond trip. Below the falls the rive?
flows through a long narrow gorge
with rocky cliffs on each side. The
water there is full of eddies and whirl
pools, but small boats can be rowed ox
it. almost to the foot of the fall. About
one eighth of a mile below the cataract
is a suspension bridge, nearly 200 feet
above the water: and two miles farther
down is another suspension bridge, on
which railroad trains cross. Still
farther down is a very large and turbu
lent whirlpool. Many thousand people
visit Niagara every year, and large ho
tels have been built there for their ac
commodation .
The name Niagara is changed from
Oni aw ga’rah, an Indian word meaning
“ Thunder of waters." The falls were
fir-t found by Father Hennepin, a
French priest, who wrote about them
in 1678.—Cyclopedia of Persons and
Places.
Thomas Jefferson —Thomas Jes
ferson, the third President of the United.
States, was born in Shadwell, Alber
marle county, Va., April 2, 1743. He
was the son of a wealthy planter, was
educated at William'and Mary’s Col
lege, and afterward became a successful
lawyer. When twenty-six years old
he was a member of the House of Bur
gesses, of Virginia, and began to take
an active part against Great Britain
When the first Congress met, in 1776,
he was chosen to write the Declaration
of Independence. During the war he
was governor of Virginia, and in 1784
was sent as minister to Fra nee. In 1789
he was Secretary of State under General
Wa-hington; in 1797, Vice President
under President Adams, and from 1801
to 1809 was President himself. Jeffer
son believed in religious freedom; that
is, he held that every man had a right
to his own religious opinions, and was
not bound to support the Church of
England unless he chose to. He se
cured this liberty for the people of Vir
ginia, and also abolished the law of en
tail, which required a man to leave all
his landed property to his eldest eon.
He tried to put a stop to the slave-trade,
and to keep slavery out of the territo
ries. He died at his estate of Monticel
lo, eighty-three years old, on the fiftieth
anniversary of the Declaration of Inde
pendence (July 4, 1826). — Young Folk/'
Cyclopedia.
New Works in Old Watches.
If you have an old gold watch
which will not run send it to C.
P. Barnes & Bro., Louisville, Ky.,
and they will tell you how much
it will cost to put in new stem
winding works. They have
changed hundreds of watches
this way to the entire satisfac
tion of the owners.
“ When I grow up,” said a lit
tle six-year-old philosopher,
“ sha’n’t 1 feel strange for a day
or two ?”
IS cures where all else fails. Ea
LJ Best Cough Syrup. Tastes Good. Use
[M ln time. Sold by druggists. I*l
‘•VFe’72 Dye
For You. **
Why throw away your clothes when,
you can have them Cleaned and Dyed
equal to new ?
We do both ladies’ and men’s clothes
better than any other in the South,
with prices to suit the times.
Southern Dye
Cleaning Works,
22 & 24 Walton St., Atlanta, Ga.
Express paid. Send for price
list. mch26ly
Goodell & Pierson,
Specialists in Vision,
Wish to say to the readers of The Index that
they are the only exclusive Eye-( lass and Spec
taele Fitters in the South. This particular and
important branch of science having been their
life work in which they have been eminently
successful, they solicit the patronage of all per
sons who appreciate good eye-sight.
At the beginning of a new school year students
should have their eyes examined and provide
themselves with glasses if required.
EYES EXAMINED AND TESTED FREE.
Third floor Chamberlin-Johnson Building.
7