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Three Old Saws.
If the world seems "cold” to you
Kindle fires to warm it!
Let their comfort hide from view
Winters that deform it.
Hearts as frozen as your own
To that radiance gather;
You will soon forget to moan
"Ah! the cheerless weather!”
If the world's a "wilderness,”
Go build houses in it!
Will it help your loneliness
On the winds to din it?
Raise a hut, however slight:
Weeds and brambles smother,
And to roof and meal Invite
Some forlorner brother.
If the world’s "a vale of tears.”
Smile till rainbows span it!
Breathe the love that life endears;
Clear from clouds to fan it.
Os your gladness lend a gleam
Unto souls that shiver;
Show them how dark sorrow’s stream
Blends with hope's bright river.
Man’s Two Guardian Angels.
The Koran says that two angels
guard every man on the earth, one
watching on each side of him. When
at night he sleeps, the angels by up
to heaven with a written report of
all his words and actions during the
day. The one on his right tells of
every good thing he has done, and
it is recorded at once and repeated ten
times, lest some Item may be lost or
omitted from the account. But when
the angel,on his left tells of a sinful
thing, the angel on his right says,
“Forbear to record that for seven
hours; perau venture, as tlhe man
wakes and thinks in the quiet hours,
he may be sorry for it, and repent and
pray and obtain forgivenes.”
This is only a fancy, and yet it
really is a true representation of the
way in which God regards our lives.
He is slow to see our sins or to write
them down against us. He delights
in mercy. The lesson is for us, too.
for we are to repeat in our lives as
God's children something, at least, of
his patience. The song of forgive
ness and forbearance which he sings
into our hearts we ought to echo
forth again. We, too, should be quick
to note and remember all the good
things of others, and slow to mark or
record the wrong that we see in them.
The Growth of Finger .Vails.
It lias been computed that the aver
age growth of the finger nail Is 1-32
of an inch per week, or a little more
than an inch and a half per year. The
growth, however, depends to a great
extent ui>on the rate of nutrition, and
during periods of sickness or of ab
stinence it is retarded. It is under
stood to go on faster in summer than
in winter, and differs f >r different fin
gel's, being most rapid in the middle
finger and slowest in the thumb, ac
cording to one investigator, and in
the little finger according to another.
The same two authorities. Bertholdi
and Benham, differ, too, with regard
to tibe equality of growth on both
hands, the former holding that the
of the right hand grow faster
than those of the left, but. the latter
can perceive no difference, between
them. According to the rate of growth
stated, the average time taken for
each finger nail to grow its full length
Is m’xmt 5-.nr and a half months and
at this rate a man of seventy would
have renewed his nails 136 times.
Taking the length of each nail at half
an inch, he would have grown seven
feet, nine inches of nail on each finger,
and on all his fingers and thumbs
an aggregate length of seventy-seven
feet six inches.
Old Bunk Notes.
The oldest bank notes are the "fly
ing money,” or “convenient money,”
first issued in China, 2697 B.C. Orig
inally these notes were issued by the
treasury, but experience dictated a
change to the banks under govern
ment inspection and control. A writer
in a provincial paper says that the
early Chinese “greenbacks” were in
all essentials similar to the modern
bank notes, bearing the name of the
bank, date of issue, the number of
the note, the signature of the official
issuing it, indications of its value in
figures, in words and in the pictorial
representation in coins or heaps of
coins equal in amount to its face value
and a notice of the pains and penal
ties of counterfeiting. Over and
above all was a laconic exhortation
of industry ami thrift: “Produce all
you can; spend with economy.” The
note was printed in blue ink on pa
per made from the fiber of the mul
berry tree. One issued in 1399 B.C.
is still carefully preserved in the Asi
atic Museum at St. Peterbsurg.
The Pnimise .
Does your spirit faint? The di
vine promises are a dropping honey
comb, better than Jonathan’s. Dip
your pilgrim staff into their richness
and .put your hand to your mouth,
like him, and your faintness shall
pass away. Are you thirsty? They
are the flowing stream of the water
of life, of which you may drink by
the way, and lift up your head. Are
you overcome by the sultry burden of
day? They are as the cool shadow of
a great rock in a weary land. Have
your steps well nigh slipped? They
are a staff in your on top of
which, betimes, like Jacob, you may
lean and worship God. Are you sad?
There are no such songs to beguile
the road and to bear you on with
gladness of heart. Put but a promise
under your head by night, and were
your pillow a stone like that at Beth
el, you shall have Jacob’s vision, and
the thirstiest wilderness will become
an Elim, with palm trees and wells
of water. —Andrew Geikie.
Song- in the Night.
Very many of the sweetest joys of
Christian hearts are songs which have
been learned in the bitterness of trial.
It is said of a little bird that he will
never learn to sing the song his mas
ter will have him sing while it is light
in his cage. He learns a snatch of
every song he hears, but will not learn
a full separate meloay of his own.
And the master Covers the cage and
makes it dark all about the bird, and
then he listens and learns the one
song that is taught him, until his
heart is full of it. Then, ever after,
he sings the song in the light. With
many of us it is as with the bird. The
Master has a song he wants to teach
us, but we learn only a strain of it.
a note here and there, while we catch
up snatches of the world’s song, and
sing them with it Then he comes
and makes it dark about us, till we
learn the sweet melody he would
teach us. Many of the loveliest songs
of peace and trust sung by God's chil
: dren in this world have been taught
’ in the darkened chambers of sorrow.
THE CHRISTIAN INDEX: THURSDAY. DECEMBER 1(1,1816
The Deed Wife.
The hour set for the funeral had
come. The hearse with its black
pinnies stood at the farmhouse door.
It seemed a strange and foreign thing
among the bright-colored hollyhocks,
the commonplace sunshine, the lowing
of cows In the barnyard, and the chick
ens that moved about upon the green
lawn before the house. The Jersey
wagons of the neighboring farmers
filled the road, for the Garretts were
much respected.
Mrs. Garrett, who had just died, was
a “home body,” and saw but little of
her neighbors, but her husband hail
grown rich by great industry and
close saving, and had pushed his chil
dren on in the world.
John, his only son, had been to col
lege, and the girls to a boarding
achool, and they were so improved
that, they seemed to belong to quite
another class from their mother.
They had stood with their father at
the coffin, to look for the last time at
the woman who lay there.
"Your mother was a pretty woman
when she was young," the farmer had
said. It had startled him to see how
thin and Withered her face was under
the white hair.
"Sarah’s only fifty," he continued.
"She hadn’t ought to look so old,” he
said. He had not thought of her
looks when she was alive.
There was a certain sullen resent
ment under his grief that she was
dead. How was he to do without
her? She was a master hand at cook
ing and butter-making and laundry
work and sewing. He had never
thought to ask her if she needed help.
She had never complained, and to
complete her work she had risen at
four and gone to bed late at night.
Things always ran smoothly. She
never spoke of being ill. It, Stunned
him when she took this cold and sank
under it in two days. The doctor said
that all her strength was gone. “Sa
rah had the strength of ten women.”
the husband said. "Where had it
gone?”
He was amazed and indignant. Whs
this the justice of God, to take away
a woman so useful in the world? It
was not just!
Her daughters sobbed vehemently.
She had always been so tender! She
did so much for them! They did not,
it is true, feel well acquainted with
her since they grew up. But between
their music, and their studies, and
their young companions, and other so
cial occupations, their lives had been
filled! They smoothed the folds of
her merino gown, a little ashamed
that the neighbors should see that
she had no silk dress. She had in
sisted that each of them should have
silk gowns, and had helped to make
them.
Jack, her son. like his father, was
shocked to see how tired and worn
iiis mother looked. He had -talked for
a year or two of taking her for a week
to New York. She had never seen a
great city. But he always had some
engagement. He remembered now
that she bad made enough in the dairy
to keep him in his spending money
at college. He wished he had con
trived that little holiday for her!
They all felt now how good and un
selfish she had been, and how dear to
them.
“Why should she be taken from us?”
the old man moaned, bitterly. "It is
cruel. Why has God done I his thing?"
And the dead woman lying there,
her lips closed forever, could make
no answer, save that which toil bad
stamped upon the thin, worn face,
that seemed pleading for rest. -
Youth's Companion.
A Boy’s Manner’.
“His manner is worth a hundred
thousand dollars to him!" This is
what one of the chief men of the na
tlon lately said about a boy. “It
wouldn’t lie worth so much to one
who meant to be a farmer, or who
had no opportunities, but to a young
college student with ambitions it is
worth at least a hundred thousand.”
The boy was a distant relative of
the man, and had been brought up by
careful parents in a far-off city.
Among other things he had been
taught to be friendly, and to think of
other persons before himself. The
boy was on a visit in the town where
the man lived. They met on the
street, and the younger, recognizing
the elder, promptly went to his side
and spoke to him in his
cordial, happy, yet respectful
way. Os course the man was
pleased, and knew that anybody
would have been pleased. The sen
tence above was the outcome of it.
A little later the boy came in the
room just as the man was struggling
into his overcoat. The boy hurried
to him, pulled it up by the collar, and
drew down the wrinkled coat beneath.
He would have done it for any man,
the haughtiest to the poorest.
The boy has not been in society a
great deal. He has not learned ortho
dox selfishness. He positively can’t
be easy at the table until his neigh
bors are waited on; a chair is torture
if he thinks any one else is less com
fortably seated. He wouldn’t inter
rupt to" let. loose the wittiest or most
timely remark ever thought of. He
may learn to do so some day—after
he has earned his hundred thousand —
but it is doubtful. The expression of
his kindness may become conformed
to popular usage, modified, refined,
but the spirit which prompts the ex
pression will only grow with his
years.
Do not misunderstand, boys. You
may wish to do things for others, and
yet feel that you do not know how.
The only way to learn is to try; to
hesitate for no feeling of bashfulness
or awkwardnes. but to put into direct
and instantaneous practice whatever
kind, helpful thoughts occur to you.—
Congregationalist.
The Silent Deacon.
Deacon Lee, who was a kindly, si
lent, faithful, gracious man, was one
day waited upon by a restless, ambi
tious, worldly church member who
was laboring to create uneasiness in
the church, and especially to drive
away the preacher. The deacon came
in to meet the visitor, who, after the
usual greetings, began to lament the
low state of religion, and to inquire as
to the reason why there had been no
revival for two or three years past.
“Now what is the cause of things
being dull here? Do you know?” he
persisted in asking.
The deacon was not ready to give
his opinion, and after a little thought
frankly answered:
"No, I don’t.”
"Do you think the church is alive to
the work before it?”
“No, I don’t.”
"Do you think the minister fully
realizes the solemnity of his work?”
"No, I don’t.”
A twinkle was seen in the eye of
this troubler in Zion, and taking
courage he asked:
"Do you think his sermon on ‘Their
Eyes Were Holden’ anything wonder
i fully great?”
"No, I don’t,”
Making bold after this encourage
ment in monosyltables, he asked:
"Then don't you think we had bet
ter dismiss this man and hire an
other?”
The old deacon started as if shot
with an arrow, and in a louder tone
than his wont, shouted:
"No, I don’t.”
"Why,” cried the amazed visitor,
"you agree with me in all I have said,
don’t you?”
"No, I don’t.”
“You talk so little, sir," replied the
guest, not a little abashed, "that no
one can find out what you mean.”
“I talked enough once,’ replied the
old man, rising to his feet, "for six
praying Christians. Thirty-six years
ago I got my heart humbled and my
tongue bridled, and ever since that
I have walked softly 'before God. I
then made vows solemn as eternity;
and don’t you tempt me to break
them."
The troubler was startled at the
earnestness of the man hitherto silent,
immovable man, and asked:
"What happened to you thirty years
ago?”
"Well, sir, I’ll tell you. I was
drawn into a scheme just like this
of yours, to uproot one of God's ser
vants from the field in which he had
planted him. In my blindness I fan
cied it a little thing to remove one
of the ‘stars’ which Jesus holds in
his right hand, if thereby my ear could
be tickled with more flowery words
and the pews filled with those turned
away from the simplicity of the Gos
pel. 1 and the men that led me for
I admit I was a dupe and a fool—flat
tered ourselves that we were conscien
tious. We thought we were doing
God service when we drove that holy
man from his pulpit and his work,
and said we considered his work end
ed in B , where I then lived. We
groaned because there was no revival,
while we were gossiping about and
criticising -and crushing instead of
upholding by our efforts and out
prayers, 'the instrument at whose
hand we harshly demanded the bless
ings. Well, sir, he could not drag on
the chariot of salvation with ..nlf a
dozen taunting him for his weakness,
while we hung as dead weights to the
wheel; lie had not the power or the
spirit and could not convert men. so
we hunted him like a deer till worn
and bleeding he fled to a covert to
die. Scarcely had he gone when God
came among" us by his spirit to show
us that he had been blessing tiie la
bora of his dear rejected servant.
"Our own hearts were broken and
our wayward children converted, and
I resolved at a convenient season to
visit my former pastor and confess
my sin, and thank him for his faith
fulness to my wayward sons, which,
like long buried seed, had now sprung
up. But God denied me that relief,
t li.il. he might teach me a lesson every
child of his ought to learn, that he
who toueheitli one of his servants,
touches tlhe apple of hi> eye. I hoard
my pastor was ill, and. taking my
eldest son with me, set o t on a twen
ty-five-mile ride to see him. It was
evening when I arrived, and his wife,
with the spirit which any woman
ought to exhibit toward one who had
wronged her husband, denied me ad
mittance to his chamber. She said,
and the words were,, arrows to my
soul, 'He may be dyiflX and the sight
of your face might Jud to his an
guish.’ ‘Had it com - uo this.’ I said
lo myfeelf, ‘that th- i.an vh.so la
boi-s had. through ChJ l ' Drought, mo
into his f< I'l, 1 L u.'d.ri my
spirit in a lerriblo b-feavctneirl, and
who had, till dosigrjlng men had
alienated us, been to me as a brother
that tihe man could not die in peace
with my face before him? God pity
me,’ I cried, ‘What have 1 done?’ I
confessed my sin to that, weak w;.-man
and I implored her for Christ’s sake,
to let me kneel before his dying ser
vant and receive his forgiveness.
What did 1 care then whether the
pews by the door were rented or not?
i would gladly have taken his whole
family to my home forever as my own
flesh and blood, but no such happiness
was in store for mo.
“As I entered the room of the
blessed warrior whose armor was fall
ing from his limbs, he opened his lan
guid eyes and said, ‘Brother Loe.
brother Lee!’ I bent over him and
sobbed out my story! Then raising
his white band he said in a deep, im
pressive voice, ‘Touch not mine an
notated, and do my prophets no
liarm!’ 1 spoke tenderly to him, call
ing my son to tell how* he had found
Christ. But lie was unconscious of
all around; the sight of my face had
brought the last pang of earth to his
troubled spirit.
“I kissed his brow and told him
how dear he had been to mo. I crave i
his pardon for my unfaithfulness, and
promised to care for his widow and
fatherless little ones, but his only re
ply, murmured as if in a troubled
dream, was. ‘Touch not mine an
notated, -and do my prophets no harm.’
“I stayed by him all night, and at
daybreak closed his eyes. I offered
the widow a house to remain in the
remainder of her days, but like a he
roine she said, ‘I freely forgive you.
But my children, who entered deeply
into their father’s anguish, shall never
see me so regardless of his memory
as to take anything from those who
caused it. He has left us with Ms
covenant God, and he will take care
of us.’
"Well, sir, those dying words sound
ed in my ears from that coffin and
that grave.
"When I slept, Christ stood before
my dream saying, ‘Touch not mine an
notated, ami do my prophets no
harm.’ These words followed me till
I fully realized the esteem In which
Christ holds those who have given up
all for his sake, even if they are not
perfect.
‘And since that day, sir, I have talk
ed less than before, and have support
ed my pastor even if he is not 'a very
extraordinary man.’ My tongue shall
cleave to the roof of my mouth and
my right hand forget her cunning be
fore I dare put asunder what God has
joined together. When a minister’s
work is done in a place I believe that
God will show it to him. I will not
join you, sir, in the scheme t|hat
brought you here; and, moreover, if
I hear another word of this from your
lips, I Shall ask my brethren to deal
with you as with those who cause
divisions. I would give all I own to
recall What I did thirty years ago.
Stop Where you are, and pray God, if
perchance the thought of your heart
may be forgiven you.”
This decided reply put an end to the
newcomer's efforts to get a minister
who could make more stir, and left
him free to lay out roads and build
hotels.
There is often great power in tihe
little word "No,” but sometimes it re
quires not a little courage to speak it
1 so resolutely as did the silent dea
; con. —Selected.
‘ Get V. E. Orr, Atlanta, seat your
Church.
©htldren’e (ttorner*
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa v wwaaaaaaaaaaaa
Guleeit Keys.
A bunch of golden keys is mine
To make each day with gladness
shine;
"Good morning!" that's the golden
key
1 hat unlocks every day for mo.
When evening comes, "Good night!” I
say.
And close the door of each glad day,
When at the table, "If you please,”
I take from off my bunch of keys.
When friends give anything to me
I'll use the little "Thank you” key;
"Excuse me;" "Beg your pardon,
too,”
When by mistake some harm I do.
Or if unkind harm we’ve given
With the "Forgive me” key I’ll be for
given.
On a golden ring these keys I’ll bind;
This is its motto: “Be ye kind."
I'll often use each golden key
And then a polite child I’ll be.
Ung-Kung, Swatow P. O„
China, Sept. 13, 1896.
Dear Index: —We have had our
two-mont'hs' rest at Swatow and are
now preparing to go back to Ung-
Kung. This has been a very hot
summer, and everybody is glad to
have cool weather again.
Here at Swatow we do not mind
the heat; our mission houses are
situated on the hilltops, and we have
delightful breezes nearly all the time.
'I hen we go for a few weeks to Double
Island, where we children spend very
happy days. Shall I tell you some
things I have learned about this
island ?
It is near the entrance to the bay
at Swatow. The coast there is very
much cut up with bays, capes, and
islands. Double Island is composed
of many hills with narrow valleys be
tween. It is half a mile long and a
quarter of a mile wide. The foreign
ers at Swatow have summer-houses
at Double Island, and the Presbyte
rian and Baptist missionaries have
sanitariums there also, making in all
eight or ten foreign houses. The Chi
nese have a town there with a temple,
whore an ugly idol sits with his legs
crossed, and the Chinese come ami
bow down to him. Once we were
there at the time of a great feast.
It was a feast to the dead poor people
who had nobody to worship them and
offer them food. The heathen give a
feast to the poor in the other world
once a year, and by this means keep
them from doing any harm to the liv
ing.
The feast is spread out on the grass,
some incense sticks are lighted, and
crowds of people stand all around the
food in solemn silence while the dead
are supposed to be eating. When the
sticks burn out the bead man gives
a signal upon which the living poor
rush in. ami the food disappears rap
idly. In their haste to get the food
they stumble over each cither, and
knock one another down, and quarrel
over a certain piece which perhaps
two are trying to take, and often <■ -me
to blows. Three or four days before
the feast the crowds begin to come to
Double Island, and they have thea
ters and puppet shows all day and
night. I went, with our nurse to the
theater one day. It is perfectly ri
diculous to see how the ('liinesn act
in a theater; they skip / ■■mid. lift
up their bands, and recite their parts
in a whining, singing voice that re
minds me of children imitating grown
peonle. There are no women in a
Chinese theater; the men dress like
women and act their parts. I suppose
i.hat is why the men pitch their voices
so high to sound as much like wo
men as possible. I like the puppet
shows; they are funny, and much
more sensible than the theater. The
Chinese have music all the time lite
theater is going on. and the music is
hideous; they never play but one tune
over and over, and it is interspersed
with tin-pan music, gong-beating, and
drums. Many of the foreigners are
not able to sleep at night while the
music goes on: it has anything but. a
soothing effect. There is one beach
on the south side of the island that
tells of bad times in the past. The
sand is sometimes strewn with bones,
human bones! How did they come
there, do you ask? This was former
ly -lite spot, where kidnaped coolies
were kept until they could be secretly
shipped to foreign ports. As they
were huddled together here, many
died and were buried on this beach,
where tlie shifting sands tell ns the
tale of hardship and cruelty endured
by these poor Chinese. There are
many ruins on the island which are
now covered with tropical vines and
look very picturesque by day—by
night, in the moonlight, beautiful.
The flora is abundant and luxuriant
there, the screw-pine, with its conical
shaped fruit is almost like the pine
apple, but not edible; the century
plants, which have bloomed once
since 1 came to China, look very state
ly with their tall spikes covered with
large white blossoms. Then there are
the yucca plants, called bear-grass in
Georgia, where they grow wild on my
grandfather’s plantation. They are a
small imitation of the century plants,
only their blossoms are much more
fragrant than those of the latter.
Nearly all the walks on the island are
bordered with the century plant, and
the bear-grass. A kind of wild lily
grows in many low places. It has
long, slender, white petals and is
very fragrant. There are many other
beautiful flowers, but I have not space
to mention all. T must tell you, how
ever, of the ferns, of which there are
many varieties growing in wild luxuri
ance, not only here on Double Island,
but in all this part of China. The
maidenhair, elk’s-horn, and a very
delicate kind in red shaded into green,
but the name of which I do not know,
are ray favorites. This last is usu
ally found in dark, moist places, but
where it is more exposed to the sun
it is not such a beautiful color, nor so
delicate-looking.
Your loving
RUTH CARLIN.
MAGNESIA SPRINGS HOTEL.—
Dear Index: Since I have seen no one
writing from here, I thought I would
make my first attempt to write to the
Children’s Corner. I am a little boy
eleven years old to-day. I got a Bible
for my birthday present from my
mother. I go to the Baptist Sunday
school at East Point. My teacher’s
name is Mrs. Murray. I like her very
much.
We have elected Professor Ramsey
superintendent for another year. We
have preaching once a month. They
have offered a prize for the one that
brings the most scholars. I am
working for it, but do not expect to
get it. Mamma takes the Index and
I like to read the Children’s Corner.
Excuse me for writing such a long
letter. With much love to the Cor
ner, your little friend,
LOW REYNOLDS.
Juiz. de Fora, Brazil,
October 24, 1896.
Dear Index:—This is the first mat
I have tried to write to you. I am
ten years of age. Here in this city
we have a small church with a few
members, some of whom have left for
Bello Horizonte, the new capital of
this State.
My fatner takes the Index and I
like the Corner very much. My pa
rents are missionaries here in Brazil.
We have been here five years and two
months.
The people in this country, especial
ly the women, adore the Virgin Mary
and the saints more than they do
Christ. Any boy or girl wanting a
long letter about Brazil will get it by
asking me. For fear this may be too
long, I will close.
MERLIN TAYLOR,
Caixa C.
Juiz de Fora, State of Minas Geraes,
Brazil, South America.
"Caixa” means P. O. box.
CAMILLA. —Dear Index: I am glad
there is a Children's Corner in the
dear old Index. I don't think it could
be In a better paper. We have no
Sunday-school at our church now.
And oh! how sorry some of us are,
for we loved so much to go.
The young men's prayer-meeting
has been almost abandoned. I know
it ought not so to be, but I trust God
will continue his blessings on all who
took an interest in it at first. I am
a member of the Baptist, church, and
I trust every reader of the Index will
pray for me that I may do my whole
Christian duty. Much love to you,
"Gray-haired Mother.” I know you
are good and sweet, although I have
never seen you. But I have one at
home that I do see all the time near
ly. Come again, and give us some
more good advice, for me need it.
Ruth Carlin, come again, and tell us
more about China, for we all enjoyed
reading your other letter very much.
I am glad so many have come out on
the Lord’s side this year (or I trust
they have). lam always glad when I
hear of a person joining the church.
1 can trust they are going to do bet
ter. The Tucker Association met with
our church at Mt. Zion in October.
We heard two good sermons. But we
were a. little disappointed because we
did not see “Uncle Jimmie,” as we
expected. But wo had a nice time.
Some speak of the books they have
read. I have read “The Barlow Fam
ily; or, Christianity in the House
hold,” and the Bible, which is the
best of all. I enjoy reading the Bible
very much.
I will answer one of Maud Beall's
questions: Og, king of Bashan, had
an iron bedstead. Also G. M. B.’s
questions: Mark 10:19 contains six
of the ten commandments. The long
est word in the Bible is Ma-her-shn
lal-hash-bay. Sarah, Abraham’s wife,
prepared a meal for three angels.
Zaccheus climbed a tree to see Jesus.
And when Jesus saw him he said:
Zaccheus, make haste and come
down, for to-day I must abide at thy
house.” 1 think that is the answer.
I will ask a few questions:
Where is the longest verse in the
Bible found?
Who was the first Christian mis
sionary?
1 will close, for I am afraid I have
stayed too long already. May God
bless the Index and all its readers,
most especially “Gray-hairetl Mother.”
Lovingly,
MARY.
TA'/LORSVILLE. Dear Index: 1
couldn’t go to Sunday-school this
morning, so I will spend a few mo
ments in writing lo the dear old In-
Papa. mamma and my two little
brothers have gone to aunt’s and my
two little sisters and I are here alone.
Papa takes the Index and has taken
it ever since I can remember. I en
joy reading it. especially the Chil
dren's Corner. 1 think some of the
cousins write such nice, interesting let
ters.
1 want lo tell you about my sweet
little two-year-old sister tnat was
killed two' weens ago. She was killed
by the train. The engineer never saw
her until it was too late. The railroad
is situated about two hundred yards
from the house; and little Bessie
went down there alone and was sit
ting on the end of a crosstie, when she
hoard the train, and just as she turn
ed her dear little head to see it, the
pilot struck the fatal blow just above
her sweet little blue eyes.
Oh. how we all miss her! Wo
didn't know how to sympathize with
the lady who wrote to the Index
about losing her little darling till ours
was snatched from us.
If I see this in print I will write
again and tell you all about our Sun
day-school and church, of which I
am a member. 1 am a little girl of
fifteen summers.
Your friend,
CLARA MAE DODD.
LOUISVILLE.—Dear Index: As all
the rest of the children are writing to
you, I thought I would write. 1 am a
little girl twelve years old. and I
joined the church last August. My
pastor at Rosier church is Bro. Thos.
J. Pilcher, and we are perfectly de
voted to him. We don’t see how we
could do without him. We have no
Sabbath-school close enough for us
to go, but we have preaching at Rosier
every third Sabbath and Saturday be
fore. When I joined the church there
were five besides myself. We had a
nice protracted meeting at Rosier.
Bro. Pilcher was assisted by brethren
Stockton and Perryclear. We all
liked them very much and hope they
will come back again. I have three
brothers living and one dead. I hope
he is in heaven. He died when he was
thirteen years old. We have lost two
of the dear members of our church
and we trust that they are at rest
where ail happiness is. Rosier is a
young church and has been organized
only three years. It is still thriving
and trying to work.
Lovingly,
BESSIE ROBINSON.
WALNUT HILL. —Dear Index: Here
comes a little boy knocking for ad
mittance into the Corner. I enjoy
reading the cousins’ letters very much
and I am so glad “Earnest Willie” has
consented to be one of us. He always
writes so earnestly and says things so
lovingly. Papa called on him while in
Atlanta last fall and fell much in love
with him. I wol answer Barton Ter
rell’s questions: Ezra 7:21. contains
all the letters of the alphabet.
The word "reverend” occurs in Ps.
I 11:9. On account of their disobedi
ence, the children of Israel were made
to wander forty years in the wilder
ness. I will ask: What two chap
[ ters in the Bible are alike? How
I many years did Paul and the apostle
! John preach? Uncle Jimmie said not
■ ask who Cain’s wife was, so I will
close.
DeVOTIE NABERS.
RUTLEDGE. —Dear Index: I have
thought of writing a long time and
let you hear something from our town,
as 1 have not seen any latter from
here. Grandma takes the Index and
I enjoy reading the boys and girls’
letters. We have a nice town, but
next year it will be still nicer, for
there will not be any whisky sold
here. We have a flourishing Sunday
school. In my class there are eleven
little girls near my size, and I am
nearly twelve. My leather is Aunt
Mattie Veazey. I love to go to Sun
day-school and have not missed a
Sunday this year. I am sorry to tell
you that our beloved superintendent,
Mr. M. A. Murrow, died the 4th ot
September. We miss him so much.
We have not a Juvenile Missionary
Society, but the ladies have one of
twenty-one members. Our beloved
pastor is Rev. T. H. Burruss. I guess
my letter is long enough, so I will
close, with best wishes for the Index
and the Children’s Corner.
Yours truly,
BURFORD WHITE.
AUGUSTA.—Dear Index: I was so
glad that my last letter did escape the
waste basket, so I take pleasure in
writing again.
We are always glad to see the Index,
as we think it such a good paper.
We still have a grand Sunday
school, with over 300 scholars. My
Sunday-school teacher’s name is Miss
Ruby Tommins, and she is very nice.
I love her.
We always recite a verse in the Bi
ble when she calls the roll. We have
preaching every Sabbath. Our pastor
is Rev. Thomas Walker, and we are
always delighted to hear him.
I am a member of the Children’s
Mission Band and I hope to be some
help in the work when I am older. I
am only ten now. My brother and
myself are trying to get a perfect re
port at school this month, as mamma
and papa are so anxious for us to
learn. I will close with best wishes
for the Index.
Your friend,
BESSIE MOODY.
BOWMAN. Dear Index: As it has
been a great long time since I wrote
last, I will write you a few lines.
First, 1 say welcome! welcome! Hail
to "Earnest Willie!” He’s such a
good boy; he’s a young hero of a
writer. He must not stop at one let
ter, but must, write again. He cer
tainly wrote a good letter. Rev. E.
R. Goss, pastor of Rehoboth church,
has a newcomer at his house. It is a
boy. Hey-dey! We have a right
good Sunday»school at present. My
teacher is Mr. Allan Ginn. It. is near
ing the first Sunday now, and we look
for a very large crowd to be in attend
ance to hear that gifted divine, Emiel
R. Goss. He’s such a “big” preacher.
1 love him very much, and think be
is full of the Spirit of God. lam now
going to the literary school. Mr.
Robert C. Roberts is my teacher, est
vir bonus.
With love to the Index. “Uncle Jim
mie," the cousins and “Earnest Wil
lie, .1 am yours,
J. ANDY SMITH.
AUBURN.—I feel that I must say a
word to the cousins. I am down at
Auburn going to school, and I enjoy
it very much. It fills my heart with
joy to read the beautiful notes in the
Children’s Corner. May God bless
these deal' little hearts and grant that
they may be burning lights for his
kingdom here below.
Oh, brother "Earnest Willie.” may
God bless you, for you are dear to us.
The letter you wrote us was so sweet.
Write again and soon, as we all de
light in reading your letters. We
have a good Sunday-school down here,
and expect great good to come from
it. Our superintendent is going to
start a B. Y. P. IT., and I am sure we
all will enjoy it. With love to all of
the cousins anil our dear old Index, I
close. Y'all!' friend,
JAYBIRD.
LUMPKIN.- Dear Index: Will you
admit a stranger into your Corner? I
have been reading the Children’s Cor
ner, and thought 1 would write, too.
My papa takes the Index, and I like
to read it very much. We have Sun
day-school every Sunday afternoon,
prayer-meeting Wednesday night and
preaching every second Sunday. Bro.
W. W. Arnold is our pastor. We all
love him very much. I think it would
be a hard matter to find a better one.
I like to go to Sunday-school very
much. Bro. AV. H. Spooner is our su
perintendent. We all love him very
much. We have a flourishing school.
Please correct all errors.
Yours very trulv.
BLANCHE BARLOW.
PLEASANT HlLL.—Dear Index: As
my other letter escaped the waste bas
ket, I will write again.
I go to Sunday-school every Sunday
evening, ami we have a nice school.
Mr. Johnson is our superintendent.
The school numbers about fifty. My
teacher is Mrs. Kilgore. We are talk
ing about having a Christmas tree.
We have a new church, not finished.
I met Uncle Jimmie on the street the
other day. 1 was baptized at his
church when T was nine years old—
at the Fifth church —and moved my
membership to Pleasant Hill. Mr. J.
P. McConnell is our pastor. I will
close, with best wishes for the dear old
Index. Your friend.
CORA E. WEAVER.
HENDRICKS. —Dear Index: Here I
come to join the happy band of the
Index. I have been thinking of writ
ing for some time. I am a little girl
fourteen years old. I love to read
the Index and especially the Children’s
Corner. My father takes the Index. I
have five brothers and two sisters. I
am not a member of the church, but I
hope to be. My mamma and papa
are members. We have preaching
every second Sunday and Rev. W. H.
Brown is the pastor, much loved.
With best love to the Index and little
cousins, yours truly.
CARRIE C. PATRICK.
BUFORD. —Dear Index: Will you
admit another stranger from Buford
into your Corner?
I read two letters from Buford last
week.
Papa takes the Index and we like it
very much. I have been reading the
cousins’ letters and like them very
much.
Dr. Gwin, of Atlanta, is our pastor.
He is a fine preacher. We have a fine
Sabbath-school. Bro. T. L. Bryson is
our superintendent. I will close, as
this is my first attempt to write.
Love to the Index. Your friend.
ALMA STREET.
Business Course
■’ to one person in every
P K ■■ county. Pleate apply
ILL promptly to Georgia
Business College,
lodecut [Macon, Georgia
7