Newspaper Page Text
Suffering
p/ Women.
W Alas! women do !!
y ' suffer. Why, we !:
often cannot tell, but
V/\ we know there is ;
7/A\o Y/ one 8Te a * cause, and
f 11 1 that is weakness. !'
t ————— The headaches, the :!
:' depressed feelings, the pains, the :;
:: discouragements, indeed, almost
: all the misery has a common : :
; cause —weakness. At such times !!
■ : a woman always needs a friend :;
:: that can be relied upon, and such ;;
’ I a friend, for more than twenty
:: years, has been that greatest of all
;: remedies,
By its purity and its power it :
furnishes a prompt relief for ;;
women in their hours of need, :;
;: and if the grateful expressions ;;
: which come up from the homes ■ :
of the land about what SAFE :!
; CURE has done were printed, ::
they would fill volumes. If you, ;:
: reader, are a sufferer, can you ;;
: not take hope from this sug
; gestion ?
Large bottle Tor new style, smaller one, at your
druggists i
EDUCATIONAL.
The leading School and Teachers Bureau
•f the South and Southwest Is the
National Bureau of Education.
Mibb Ckosthwait and J.W. Blair, Prop’rt
Wilcox Building, Nashville, Tenn
Bendstampforlnfortnel.cn. ISmchly
ATLAWTt, (H. and NORFOLK. YA.
Bookkeeping, Shorthand, Typewriting, Penman
ship, etc., taught practically. Send for catalogue.
A. C. BRISCOE, President.
NEW ENGLAND
CONSERVATORY
of MUSIC.
Oldeat, largest, moat prosperous. Music, Elocution,
Modern Languages. From elementary grades to highest
artiitic requirement*. Students received at any time. /
Calendar and prospect w free.
Franklin Square, Boshin, Mom.
The Atlanta Business College,
WHITEHALL &T. NEAR TRINITY AVE.
Is the only College of Actual Butinas. Training
and Benn Pitman SA. rthand in Atlanta. It was
awarded the Medal and first Prize by the Jury of
Awards of the Cotton Bute* and International
Exposition, oner all compe Itors, for “ Methods of
Instruction.” Send for catalogues.
SEEOUBTEILBTWOODHEATINGSTOVES
w Two Sticks of
. wood will keep
a fire
21 hotos.
We have the
most economl
IMHIsSSsB CHltolll Mote
» made
JK, We carry a
flmti.Jp full line
Itii • I Mante,s
Tile,
Srsites
—AND—
Fire-Place Goods, Gas and Elec
trie Chandalien.
Best Stove on earth for churches and
schools
HUNNICUTT & BELLIN6RATH CO.,
ATLANTA, GA.
Write for Information and mention the
Index.
PENNMUTUALLIFE
Insurance Company of Philadelphia.
Organized 1847. Cash Assets $30,100,000
—The contract provides fop.—
Ist. A CASH Surrender Value.
2d. A I.OaN equal iu amount to the cash value
3d. EXTEND).!) Insurance for the FULL
amount of POLICY, without the request of the
policy holder, or
4th. A PAID UP Policy.
Sth. Absolute Incontestability.
6th. Mutuality—each for all, all for each.
THE NEW POLICY
Embraces all desired forms of Life, Limited Life,
Endowment, Trust Certificate, and other plans
of Insurance.
H. U. BAGLEY & CO.. General Agents,
202-4-6 Gould Building, Atlanta, Ga.
BELLS.
Buckeye Bell Foundry
E.W.Vanduxen ('©.Cincinnati.Onio.
rXHLya o n f d e ff n p -Church Bells&.Chimes,
Highest Grade, Pure To .£®
Bells Founders of Largest Bell in America.
BE LLS
Steel Alloy Church & School
Catalogue. Th* C. S. BELL CO.. Hillnboro. O
THE LARGEST ESTABLISHMENT MANUFACTURING
CHURCH BELLS M
PUREST BELL METAL (COPPER AND TIN).
Send Tor Price and Catalogue.
WeBHANE BELL FOUNDRY. BALTIMOBE, MD
B. aw,UxTLIZZOTH23BXLU
LYMTER swims. wou m
CHURCH
TELLS WHT.
to CincinoaH Bell Foundry Co.. Cincinnati,
Wire Railing and Ornamental Wire
Works.
DUFUR & CO.,
No. 811 N. Howard Bt„ Baltimore, Md.
Manufacture Wire Railings for Cemeter
les, Balconies. Ac., Sieves, Fenders, Cages,
Band and Coal Screens. Woven Wire, Ac.
Also Bedsteads, Chairs, Settees, <fcc. ieb?oti
Haggard’s Specific Tablets.
PEOPLE THAT USE THEN GET
ONLY REMEDY THAT NEVER
FAILS F 4» CERE.
Sent bv mail on receipt of price;
1 Box-SLOO ; 3 Boxes 82 50.
Address
HAGGARD SPECIFIC CO.,
Atlanta, Ga.
Jjulyly
©ur
department
Retrospect.
“Thou shalt reinember all the way
which the Lord thy God led thee.’’—
Deut. 8:2.
He was better to me than all my
hopes,
He was better than all my fears:
He made a bridge of my broken works.
And a rainbow of my tears.
The billows that guarded my sea-girt
path
But carried my Lord on their crest;
When I dwell on the days of my wil
derness march,
I can lean on his love for the rest.
He emptied my hands of my treasured
store,
And his covenant love revealed;
There was not a wound in my aching
heart
But the balm of his blessing healed.
Oh! tender and true was the chasten
ing sore,
In wisdom, that taught and tried,
Till the soul that he sought was trust
ing in him,
And nothing on earth beside.
He guided by paths that I could not
see,
By ways that I have not known;
The crooked was straight and the
rough made plain
As I followed the Lord alone.
I praise him still for the pleasant
palms,
And the water springs by the way;
For the glowing pillar of flame by
night,
And the sheltering cloud by day.
There is light for me on the trackless
wild,
As the wonders of old I trace,
When the God of the whole earth went
before
To search me a resting place.
Never a watch on the dreariest halt
But some promise of love endears;
I read from the past that my future
shall be
Far better than all my fears.
—Regions Beyond.
For the Index.
Fishing in China.
The “boys,’ old and young, who en
joy fishing will be Interested in learn
ing about some Chinese ways of fish
ing. Os course, the hook and line are
in use, but as the people have no new
fangled hooks and enticements, this
mode is rather slow and unsatisfac
tory.
On the grand canal, during a recent
trip, we were much interested in
watching the various schemes for tak
ing the unsuspecting fish.
There are regular fishing villages on
the banks of the canal, where the ma
jority of the people make their living
catching fish to sell to the boating
people, or for salting, and preserving
for winter use. This salt fish is in de
mand all over the country, especially
in the interior, where the fresh fish
cannot be obtained. It is also pickled
and used as a condiment with meats
and bread.
On the lower part of the canal the
net is used a great deal. Sometimes
this net is spread out and attached by
the four corners to two heavy bamboo
poles crossed in the center, and this is
suspended on the end of another pole
attached to the prow of the boat In
such away that a pian In the stern,
by pulling a rope passed around a pul -
ley, can easily lower or raise the net.
When the net is lowered into the wa
ter, the front is quite a bit lower than
the back so that as the boat is pro
pelled along it acts as a scoop, and,
being suddenly raised, brings up any
fish it may have come in contact with.
In this way large fish are caught un
injured and kept in water until a
market can be found.
They also use an ordinary net
weighted with lead at the edges. A
man stands on the prow of the boat
and throws this so that it spreads
out flat on the water; the edges sink
rapidly and the fish which are under
neath in trying to escape become en
tangled in the meshes. This method
does not seem as easy as the first, be
cause the net frequently becomes en
tangled in weeds or rushes, causing
considerable trouble when being drawn
in.
Another way, which we called “fish
ing with scissors,” was quite novel and
interesting. A net was attached to
the ends of two long bamboo poles
crossed like a pair of scissors. When
the net was let down the “scissors"
were open, but before they were rais
ed they were closed and the fish were
caught in a trap.
One day we heard a great noise—
like the sound of innumerable cow
bells and not very musical ones, either.
We went on deck to see what it all
meant. The canal there was by the
side of a marshy lake, a high bank hid
ing it from our sight, but the noise
came from that direction, so we step
ped on a raised plank where we could
obtain a view of the lake. We could
see a great many boats following one
another in circles on the shallow lake,
a large part of which was covered
with rushes.
On inquiry, we learned that the boats
were on a fishing excursion, and to
entice the fish the boatmen were beat
ing gongs, ringing bells and striking
pieces of iron together, making a most
horrible din. Think of that, boys,
when you sit on a bank all day not
daring to whisper, patiently waiting
for a bite, while the fish refuse to be
tempted by your juicy bait.
The Chinese have also some fishing
boats, where the fishers are not men,
but a bird called the cormorant. This
bird is about the size and not unlike a
duck in appearance. There are usu
ally quite a number —ten or fifteen —
to a boat. They have rings or strings
put around the throat so they cannot
swallow the fish they catch.
After being in the water awhile a
pole is extended for the birds to jump
on, and they are brought back to the
boat and made to disgorge. The fish
is not injured by its sojourn In the
bird’s throat.
At the sea we saw them fishing in
still another way. Twenty or thirty
men wade out from the shore as far as
they can on the shallow beach and,
having stretched a net, divide, going
right and left from the net, the lead
ers gradually bending toward each
other until a circle is formed with
spaces fifteen or twenty feet between
the men. r ihen they gradually close
in toward the net, shouting and beat
ing the water with the hands to drive
the fish in the net.
The seas and rivers of China abound
w.th excellent fish and the people are
very fond of it. The salt water fish
is often transported considerable dis
tances into the interior, sometimes in
good condition, but more frequently
smelling anything but fresh. With the
Chinese, however, “fish is fish” and
acceptable in any condition.
Florence Nightingale League.
P. 0., Chin-Kiang, China, Sept. 15,
1896.
THE CHRISTIAN INDEX: THURSDAY. DECEMBER 17,1896
“ Helpers of Joy.’*
Os making many societies there
seems to be no end, though there
must be a limit somewhere. Here Is
one, however, that may exist with
out organization, by-laws, officers or
fees, and be joined without formality.
The Golden Rule is its constitution,
and Paul may be called Its founder or
forerunner, for he says of himself and
associates, to the Corinthians, “We
were helpers of your joy,”
TO be a helper of joy one must be
sympathetic and unselfish, and this
may make joining the circle a costly
thing, but the recompense will over
pay it. There’s none too much joy in
the world; some of it has to be helped
on and eked out, or some people will
have little enough. Those who do not
know how to enjoy life ought tb be
shown ho-w, and helped to do it, by
way of finding the sunny side, when
they forget to look, or grope In vain.
But one of the most effective ways
of helping joy, is not to spoil it by
refusal to share It, When the cup
runs over, there should be somebody
to catch the overflow. Joy bubbles
Into speech, and somebody must lis
ten. It may not be easy and comfort
able to do this When one is inclined
instead to brbod over one’s own un
pleasant experience, and to resent an
other’s exuberant gladness, but the
command to rejoice with those that do
rejoice, Is not conditioned upon our
feeling like it.
Crowd out other feelings to make
room for sympathy in others' joy,
and the joy Itself win crowd in. We
may be oftener asked to listen to a
tale of woe, than to a song of glad
ness, but when the Vhance offers, let
us be helpers of joy, for
“All the angels would be glad,
If, in the world he built.
Although there must be some things
sad.
No drop of joy were spilt,”
—lnterior.
The Marks of the Lord Jesu».
After a patriotic war it is not the
soldiers that return unhurt, unscarred,
who are looked upon with the highest
honor, but those who bear the marks
of battle. When an army marches
back from a victorious field, it is not
the bright, clean, untorn flag that is
most wildly cheered, but the flag that
is pierced, riddled, and torn by the
shot and shell of many a battle.
So, in the home-coming in glory, it
will not be the man who bears the
fewest marks of suffering and strug
gle, and the fewest scars of wounds
received in Christ’s service who will
be welcomed with the greatest joy, but
the man who carries the marks of the
sorest conflicts, and the greatest suf
ferings for the honor of his Lord and
for his kingdom. Old war veterans
are not ashamed of their scars; they
are insignia of honor; they tell of
wounds received in battling for their
country. In heaven the soldier of
Christ will not be ashamed of the
scars he has gotten in his warfare for
his Lord on the earth; his crown will
be all the brighter for them. Then
we shall see that it has been no mis
fortune that we have had to fight sore
battles on this earth.
When No One Is Watching.
A flower blooms no more sweetly be
cause It is gazed at by an admiring
crowd. It would be just as lovely If it
grew in the depths of a great forest
where no eye ever saw it. The stars
look down with as much brilliancy Into
the desert, where no one looks up
at them, as into the streets of the
great city where thousands behold
them. The sea breaks with as much
majesty on an uninhabited shore as
where its waves kiss the feet of multi
tudes. So it is in all true Christian
life and work. When one Is doing
any fine thing, and shows by his air
that he is conscious of it, more than
half the fineness is gone from the per
formance. When a man knows that
he is living a life that is very beauti
ful in its service and sacrifice, when
he is conscious that he is a winsome
Christian, much of the glory is gone
from his life. We should live just as
sweetly and beautifully when no one
is looking upon us to see our deed
and praise our life, as when all the
world is beholding. The eye of God
is ever upon us, and it is his approval
and commendation that we should al
ways seek to deserve.
Coming to Oneself.
The trouble with the prodigal son
began where all the trouble in hu
man life begins: in an incapacity to
find satisfaction in God and pleasure
in his presence. Here is this young
man, who desired his father's goods,
but not his father’s companionship.
The spirit of selfishness took posses
sion of him, crowding out every better
impulse. He wanted all that his fa
ther could give him, but he wanted to
use it for himself in his own way.
Naturally, in order to do this, he went
away into a “far country.” Nearness
to his father would have been a hin
drance to his selfish pursuits. What a
bitter lesson he had to learn! He
found out by dire waste of the best
gifts that could be given to use them
thus: that misery and heartache are
the natural outcome of a selfish life.
What a pity we cannot learn it from,
his example, but must find out for
ourselves through sad experience that
there is absolutely nothing in this
world that can satisfy the human
heart but God himself.
A Little Woman.
She was a very little woman, not
more than four years old, and I am
afraid she was running away.
Perhaps I ought not to say running:
for she walked gravely and deliberate
ly along the street, looking about her
with an observant air. She had on a
ruffled white apron, and a brown stuff
dress, and over her head she had
thrown an apron of blue and white
check in place of a bonnet. The apron
was so large, and the little woman so
small, that while the chubby hand
held it snugly under her round chin,
one corner trailed on the ground be
hind her. The apron also served as a
shawl for a rag doll with no features
to speak of, -whose head, with a ghast
ly wound on top, peeped out under the
little mother’s arm. A great many
people were coming and going, but
the little woman did not notice them.
She was singing to herself and the
doll—
“’Tis his hand that leadeth me.”
She only knew one line, so she sang
it over and over as she went on, walk
ing close to the fences, and peeping
into yards where flowers were grow
ing, and into basements, where she had
glimpses of tables covered with red
cloths, and shining decanters tower
ing in the middle like revolving bat
teries. She was directly in the wake
of a fat woman, who turned the stream
of travel one side, and left a quiet lit
tle path for her small follower.
Presently the little woman stopped.
She had come to a yard, filled with
trees and flowers, around an old-fash
ioned brick house. The flowers were
old-fashioned, too, but they were all
of the sweetest, and over them the
cherry boughs were like one great
white bouquet. The little woman for
got to hold the apron under her chin
and it slid down to the sidewalk. She
took her doll from under her arm,
and held her close to the fence that
she might see, too, and smell the blos
soms, and hear the fine, clear piping
of the bees at work among them.
There was a wonderful bird flashing
about the trees like a great golden
blossom. The bird seemed always just
about to launch into a song, but was
so busy he broke off at the first sylla
ble. A man came across the lawn with
a wheelbarrow, in which was a green
shrub. He dug a hole In the turf, and
began to plant the bush; but he saw
the eager little face, and the dolly
with her woolen brains oozing out be
hind. He nodded good-naturedly.
“Where are you going, sis?”
"Anywhere,” said the little woman.
“What are you looking at?”
“God’s flowers," was the grave an
swer.
The man laughed again, and pushed
up his hat.
“Them’s the Gov’nor’s flowers; want
some?”
The little woman only nodded, but
her eyes grew large and round with
wonder and expectancy as the man
broke a white bough from the cherry
tree and a purple spike of hyacinth
bells. He put them in her hand, say
ing: “Now, run home, or that there
young lady will be took up by the
p’lice; looks like she’s had a row.”
The little woman had neither eyes
nor ears for anything but the flowers.
The man went back to his work, and
she went slowly on. One block, two
blocks, six blocks, then she came to a
little triangular park at the intersec
tion of the streets —a very small park,
with only grass and a few trees in it,
and an iron drinking fountain for
horses just outside the fence. Two
dusty horses were drinking from the
round iron bowl, and a dog was eagerly
lapping the slender stream that spilled
over upon the stones below. The lit
tle woman went Into the park and sat
down under a tree. She was just be
ginning to be afraid she was lost, but
she could not be very unhappy while
she had her flowers. She sat very still
looking at them, and to her great de
light a brown bee came sniffing at the
white cups for an instant as he passed.
Stretched on the grass near her was a
boy—a big boy; the little woman
would have called him a man. He
had red hands and a sunburned face,
and coarse, clumsy clothes. You would
not have looked twice at him. but the
little woman looked and looked, and
saw he was crying. She looked again,
and then crept a little nearer, holding
her doll very tight.
“Does you want some of God’s flow
ers?” she asked, holding the sweet
things toward him.
The boy took them eagerly—took
them all; but just as the little woman
was going to cry he gave them back
to her, so she broke off a piece of the
cherry bough and one little stemless
hyacinth and gave them to him. The
boy had but lately come to the city.
He was hungry, he was friendless, he
was utterly discouraged, he had taken
the first step downward. But when lie
smelt the familiar scent of cherry blos
soms, and saw the pure, pitiful eyes
of the little woman looking at him, it
brought back the homely brown house
among the hills and the little sisters
who believed in him and trusted him.
“I’ll try one day more,” he said reso
lutely, “and if I can’t get work I’ll
go home; I won’t stay nere and go to
the bad.”
Surely LUy were
which thin Title woman
She sat quietly under the tree, talk
ing sometimes to her doll, and count
ing the hyacinth bells over and over.
She knew now she was lost, but was
not really frightened. She felt sure
some one would come by and by and
find her. The market-house clock be
gan to strike twelve. With the first
stroke a babel of sounds broke in.
Steam whistles in every key, bells that
clanged slowly, bells that rang wildly,
clocks striking from a dozen steeples,
and through them all the slow, deep
boom of the market clock. The street
was full of hurrying people, going
home to dinner. Clattering over the
pavement came an empty express
wagon; the driver hesitated, then turn
ed up to the brimming water basin,
and let the big gray horse plunge his
nose in the cool water. A flock of
brown sparrows were taking shower
baths in the overflow; and as the
driver waited his eyes followed them
with amusement from the water to the
branches where they dried their feath
ers. What was that under the tree?
A child lying asleep on the grass?
“Looks like my little woman,” said
the driver, jumping over the fence and
coming up to the tree in three strides.
“Sure’s you live it’s herself,” he said,
as he picked the little sleeper up in his
arms. He stooped again for the doll,
and thrust it head first Into bis pocket;
but the little hand clung to the flowers
even in sleep. The big horse whisked
them away, but with the jolting of the
wagon the blue eyes opened.
“What ye s’pose mother’ll say?”
asked the driver, pressing the soft
cheek against his rough coat. “Where
was ye goin’, anyway?”
“Just went a-walking,” said the little
woman, “and I couldn’t go back cause
the house got lost.”
When the terrified mother had as
sured herself that her darling was safe
and sound, when the little woman was
eagerly crowding her withered flowers
into her tin cup, the father looked up
from his dinner to say:
“Curious how I happened to drive by
the park to-day; haven’t been that way
in a week.”
“’Tis his hand that leadeth me,”
sang the little woman over her flowers.
The father looked at the mother and
nodded.
“Might be,” he said, thoughtfully.—
Emily Huntington Miller.
The reason some young men have
failed in life is that they estimated
their service to the world too high at
the etart and banked too heavily
on the account. It would have been
far better if they had done what they
could for humanity without keeping
books. The world gives liberally to
some men who devote themselves to
it without salary, but it never honors
a draft drawn on it by the man who
thinks it is time he was getting paid
for his services. —Exchange.
‘•Pearl top,” “pearl glass,”
“tough glass,” “no smell,”
and “best light,” are great
big things. “Macbeth in
cludes them all, if you get the
chimney made for your lamp.
Let us send you an Index.
Geo A Macbeth Co
Pittsburgh Pa .
(Chitdven’e ©ortter.
Now 1 Lay Me Down to Sleep.
Golden heap so lowly bending
Little feet so white and bare;
Dewy eyes, half shut, half opened,
Lisping out her evening prayer.
Well she knows when she is sayng—
"Now I lay me down to sleep"—
'Tis to God that she is praying,
Fraying him her soul to keep.
Half asleep, and murmuring faintly—
“lf I should die before I wake”—
Tiny fingers clasped so saintly—
"l pray the Lord my soul to keep.”
Oh, the rapture, sweet, unbroken,
Os the soul who wrote tt.at prayer;
Children’s myriad voices floating
Up to heaven, record it there.
If of all that has been written
I could choose what might be mine,
It should be that child’s petition
Rising to the throne divine.
Atlanta, Dec. 4, 1896.
Dear Little Cousins of the Index: 1
have been thinking for a long time
that I should like to write to you, for,
to tell the truth, I have taken a great
fancy to the little folks who write for
the Corner. I want to congratulate
you on having such kind, good cous
ins as our editors. Indeed. I think so
well of them and of their cousins that
I have a strong notion of asking them
to let me be one of the cousins, too.
It is such an important thing that we
should like our kinfolks, I think we
might be allowed to choose at least
some of them. That Corner of yours
is very interesting to me, and in read
ing your letters I am glad to find that
most of you write affectionately of
your- church and pastor, your Sunday
school and teacher. This speaks well
for you. It makes me think that you
are Christian boys and girls. Yes,
you love the Lord Jesus, and you are
daily enjoying from his hands the
many blessings of which you write. Is
there one of you who does not long to
show your gratitude for his wonderful
love and care? Can you imagine how
different it would be with you if you
had never heard of Jesus? You
would have no church and dear pas
tor, no Sunday-school and loving
teacher, you would have no Bible to
read, and you could sing no songs of
Jesus and his love. How sad it is to
think there are dear children, not
only in China, Japan and Africa, but
also in our home land, who have never
heard of our Lord and Savior! The
chief object of this letter is to try to
get you interested in just such chil
dren. I feel sure that you would be
glad to have a part in sending preach
ers and Bibles to heathen children and
their parents. Is there a children’s
missionary band in your church? If
so, what a blessed opportunity you
have to work with others to send the
Gospel to all lands! If you belong to
such a band, please write me all about
it, and then I shall enjoy writing you
a personal letter. If there is no mis
sionary band in your church, do write
of that, and let me send you all neces
sary instructions for organizing a
band. You cannot be happy and use
ful Christians unless you are working
and praying for the salvation of the
whole world. If this subject is near
your heart, then I am sure we are very
near and dear cousins.
With sincere love, I am yours,
MRS. J. W. WILLS,
Box 53, Atlanta, Ga.
P. S. —I should be glad to mail to
any address a copy of recitations and
songs for a Christmas entertainment.
to Sunbeam Socie
ties
MRS. J. W. W.
Williston, N. C„
Nov. 21, 1896.
Dear Children's Corner: Did you
ever hear of any one who was almost
a cosmopolite (turn to the dictionary
or ask mamma) getting homesick?
Well, I was made homesick by read
ing a letter in the Index from a little
girl—Fannie Lizzie Hargrove, of Mar
shallville, Ga. Not that I ever knew
her —oh! no, for Marshallville was
one of my many homes long before
that little girl ever saw the light. But
the name was familiar, and another
name, too, that of the superintendent
of the Baptist Sunday-school, Mr. L. O.
Niles. Just think how surprised I was
to hear that the same good man leads
the children now who Jed them then.
And yet I should not have been sur
prised, for we all loved Mr. Niles so
dearly. The “Golden Trio” was our
ong book then, and of course Mr. Niles
bad his favorites, one of which was
“Shout the Tidings of Salvation.” It
really seemed as if that hymn was
given out almost every Sunday. We
could generally guess what was com
ing when he took the song book in his
hand and, when the familiar number
was named, there was generally a
slight smile among the teachers and
scholars. But I really think it must
have been almost as great a favorite
with the children as with Mr. Niles, for
I tell you we did “shout.”
One of the rules of the school was
that at the call of the roll each child
should answer to his or her name
with a verse of Scripture. This, of
course, was very interesting as well as
instructive, but sometimes some of the
little ones made rather inappropriate
selections. If we gathered before the
hour for Sunday-school to commence
it was a common thing to tell each
other the verses that we intended to
say. One Sunday I asked a little tot
what his verse was, and he told me
that it was, “And he opened his mouth
and taught them, saying.” His little
brother, standing near, said very
proudly: “I picked it out. for him.”
Well, there was a sweet little girl
whose mother was teaching her the
Lord’s prayer and having her say one
verse of it every Sunday. One Sunday
this little girl happened to be sitting
away from her mother, on the other
side of the church with her grand
mother. When her name was called
she said quickly, in sharp, clear tones:
“I fordot my verse. I’ll have to do
and ask mamma.” And then, before
her grandmother could stop her, she
started on as hard a run, patter, patter,
patter, as if she had been playing at
home, up one aisle, round in front of
the superintendent’s desk, and down
the other aisle to her mother, shout
ing all the time that she was running,
“Fot is it, mamma, sot is it? Fot is
my verse?” But after all her efforts
to perform her duty, the poor little
creature was silenced by her amused,
but careful mother. For a little while
it was very hard to make our faces
as straight as the place and time de
manded.
An amusing incident occurred one
Sunday in the infant class, taught by
Mrs. Fannie Hargrove. It was told
by a member of the class, but the little
fellow who told it never put himself
in as being among those who made the
mistake. Oh! no —he was particular
to say “they,” and not “we.” He
said that Mrs. Hargrove asked them
who was the meekest man, and “they
thought she said who was the littlest
man, and they said ‘Tom Thumb.’ ”
A Sunday-school lecturer once vis
ited the school and, during his lecture,
he asked the children when the first
Sunday-school was started. No one
answered. Two of the ladies knew
that one little girl did know, and so
they looked nt. this little girl and nod
ded their heads and kept calling to her
in loud whispers to answer. Now, the
little girl was timid and did not like
to "speak out in meeting,” but, seeing
that so much attention was being
drawn to her, she at last concluded
that the best remedy would bo to give
the information, and so, with reddened
face, she timidly said: “In 1871,"
which was the year at that time. There
was a deep smile among the grown
people and the little girl’s face grew
redder, as the lecturer, with an amused
but sympathetic smile, fastened his
eyes steadily on her, and said, in as
tonishment. “When?” The little girl
saw in a moment that, instead of draw
ing attention from herself, she had,
by her answer, drawn attention to
herself, and so she quickly made the
correction, “1781.”
I believe it is the rule in the Corner
letters to tell how we like the Index.
Well, I like it better now than I liked
it then, for now they give the chil
dren a Corner, but then there seemed
to be no place for us, and so I knew it
only by name.
With much love to the Corner chil
dren,
An ex-Marshallville S. S. Scholar.
THOMASTON—Dear Index: As I
have never seen a letter from this
place or written before, I will endeavor
to do so now. Allow me to say to
Henry Stout Roberts that I am well
acquainted with dear old brother T.
H. Stout. He is pastor of the Bap
tist church at this place. He has been
pastor of this church for three
years and was unanimously
elected pastor for the ensuing
year. He has done a great work for
the Master and baptized a great many
of my companions besides myself.
Next to my parents, I love him bettor
than any man I know. I do not think
any one could love him more than I
do. He is loved by both his church
and the Sunday-school. We have a
Sunbeam Society, of which Miss Lily
Cloud is the beloved manager. We
clothe a little girl at the Baptist Or
phans’ Home in Atlanta. I think all
the cousins should organize a Sunbeam
Society where they live. Last associa
tional year we raised $24 for Foreign
Missions. Last Friday night we had
an apron party and made $8.90, which
will be sent off for missions. I enjoy
reading the letters every week so
much, especially when “Earnest Wil
lie” has a letter in the paper. I like
to read his letters very much. I read
his book, “Echoes From a Recluse,”
about two years ago, and enjoyed it
very much. I will answer Pat’s ques
tion: The word girl is mentioned
once in the Bible, Joel 3:3. and girls
once, Zee. 8:5. If this does not reach
the waste basket, I will write again.
Will close with best wishes for the
editors of the Index. Your friend.
MAY.
LEXINGTON—Dear Index: Per
haps you will be pleased to hear of
our success in Sunday-school and mis
sionary work. Mr. Shackleford has
recently been appointed superintendent
and has entered on the work with
much enthusiasm, which is very in
spiring to us all. Our missionary so
ciety is arranging to present the
cantata, “The Light of the World,”
Sunday evening of Christmas. In re
ply to the questions of Charlie and
Edgar Littlejohn I will say Joseph
was let down in a dungeon. Judas
Iscariot was so sorry for his sin that
he hanged himself. When he heard
that his sons, Hophni and Phinehas,
were dead and the ark of God was
taken, Eli fell backward and broke his
neck. The Spirit of the Lord camo
upon David on the day he was anoint
ed king by Samuel. The Lord sent
two angels to destroy Sodom and Go
morrah. The bottles of that country
were made of goatskin. They are still
extensively used at Jerusalem.
Love to all the Index family.
LESSIE A. WEAVER.
SUMMERTOWN.—Dear Index: I
have been reading the Index, especial
ly the Children's Corner. I find it
very interesting and thought that I
would write, as I have'not seen any let
ters from Summertown. I will tell you
about our church. It is not a large
church, but we try to have a Sunday
scnool. I enjoy attending my Sunday
school, even if it is small. Mr. L. A.
Swann is my teacher, and his little
scholars think a great deal of him.
Our superintendent is Mr. Geo. Garbutt
(the father of our church), and he is
much loved by the people. Rev. H. G.
Edenfield is our much loved pastor.
This is my first attempt to write to
any paper, although I am twelve
years of age. I will close for fear
I will consume too much space. With
much love to the Index, I am, your
little friend,
INEZ BRANTLEY.
AUGUSTA.—Dear Index: I want to
tell you something about our church
and Sunday-school. Our pastor is Rev.
Thomas Walker. He is one of the best
preachers in the State. We all love
him very much. He preaches for us
so good. He visits us when we are
sick and says many comforting
words. He is the pride of our hearts
as a pastor. Our Sunday-school super
intendent is Mr. Joe Belding, and he
is a good one, too. He conducts his
school so nicely the children love him
very much. My teacher is one of our
deacons. His name is Mr. Montgom
ery. He takes much pains in teach
ing his class. We have a large Sun
day-school and large congregations
and often have additions to the church.
Good-bye. Yours truly,
MAGGIE TUDOR.
AMERICUS.—Dear Index: As I have
not seen any letters printed in the
Index from Americus, I thought I
would write one. lam a little orphan
girl and have been in Americus about
two years. I have a little sister nine
years old and lam eight years old. I
live with Mrs. Weekley and I go to
the Baptist Sunday-school and church.
Mamma and papa are members, but I
am not. I want to be a Christian and
live right. I have a good home and
am thankful for it. Dr. Turpin is our
pastor and we all like to hear him
preach. I will close, for I fear this
will find its way to the waste basket.
Love to all.
ANNA WEEKLEY.
MAYFIELD. —Dear Index: Will you
allow me a little space in the Chil
dren’s Corner. The Index is a great
treat to our home. We read with
pleasure the different pieces in the
Corner. The family enjoy it, and we
exclaim that the Index is better every
time it comes. Tell Humming Bird
and Marion Fulghum to write again.
We enjoy the different pieces very
much as mamma reads them to us.
ROGER CASON.
NEWNAN. —Dear Index: I would
like to have a word to say, If you
please, among the cousins of the Index.
I go to school and study arithmetic,
geography, history and physiology. I
like my studies very much. lam nine
years old and am In the fourth grade.
My teacher is Mrs. Woodroof. I like
her very much. I can answer some
of the questions that C. C. L. asked:
When Eli was told that the ark of
God was taken by the Philistines he
fell from his seat and his neck was
broken. The sinner who hung himself
for sorrow was Judas. Jeremiah was
let down in a dungeon by cords. “God’s
Spirit come upon David” when he was
anointed king. J. E. L. asks how
many angels were sent to Sodom?
“Two angels came to Sodom at even.”
Os what were the ancient bottles
made? Skin.
Your little friend,
ANNIE MAY DEWS.
BUCHANAN. —Dear Index: Here
comes another little girl knocking at
the door. lam twelve years old. I
walk three miles to school every day,
and I have many little friends there.
Miss Effie Cox is my teacher and we
love her very much.
Mr. Kellogg is the principal of
Buchanan High School. The school
will be out in two weeks. I like to
read the Children’s Corner.
My papa Is a farmer.
I have two little sisters and one lit
tle brother. One little sister goes to
school with me. My other little sister
and little brother stay at home, as
they are too small to go to school.
With love to the Index,
ODESSA SMITH.
SMYRNA. —Dear Index: As you
were so kind as to publish our letters
before, we will try and write again.
We enjoy reading the Index very
much, especially the Children’s Cor
ner. There are so many interesting
letters in it. Our pastor, who has
been visiting in Texas, has returned
home. We will be glad to hear from
“Earnest Willie” and Grandmother.
We will close by answering and ask
ing some questions. We will answer
one of G. M. B.’s questions: Elijah
was fed by the ravens. Whose name
in the Bible meant peace? What kin
was Noah to Enoch? How old was
Enoch when converted. With best
wishes to the Index, we remain your
friends,
BARTON AND LEILA.
SUWANEE. —Dear Index: I thought
I would write my first letter, as I have
not seen one from this place. I am a
little girl eleven years old. My papa
takes the Index and I love to read it
very much. My papa is a Baptist
preacher. I have two little brothers.
lam learning to cook. Igo to school
every day and our teacher’s name is
Mr. Pierce. Our school is going to
have a Christmas tree and we are ex
pecting a nice time. I will close by
asking some Bible questions:
How many miracles did Christ per
form while on earth?
How old was Noah when he died?
Who was the wisest man?
God bless the Index and all who
read it. Good-bye.
ANNA SETTLE.
SPARTA.—Dear Index: What are you
all going to do for Christmas? We are
going to have services at our church
Thanksgiving day. Our church is
Union, in Washington county. Our
pastor is Mr. Smith, from Dublin.
What are you all going to have for
your Sunday-school Christmas? We
are going to have a festival. We have
some mite boxes and are going to
give them as a Christmas offering. I
hope all the Index children will have
a good time Christmas, and will tell
us about it afterwards. I am, your
ten-year-old cousin,
MAUDE V. GARNER.
GROVETON.—Dear Index: We can
not thank you enough for our Corner
in your good paper. “Earnest Willie,”
please come often. Your letters are
splendid. You have such a sweet
name for your father and mother. My
dear mother left us nearly two years
ago. God took her home. If I had
her back I could not find names sweet
enough for such a loving mother, so
tender and patient. I hope to meet
her in heaven. I have a Christian fa
ther and grandmother that teach me
what is right. I have three little sis
ters.
God bless our Index.
THOMAS J. HAMILTON.
BUFORD.—Dear Index: Will you
please le<t another little stranger join
the band that writes so many nice
letters? My papa takes the Index and
1 always like to see it come, for I like
to read the Corner that has so many
nice letters in it. I am a little girl
eleven years old. I go to Sunday
school every Sunday. We have a nice
Sunday-school. My teacher is Miss
Mary Smith. We all love her. Our
superintendent is T. T. Bryson. I will
close for this time. Will write a bet
ter letter next time. Your friend,
EULA BLACKSTOCK.
THOMPSON’S MILLS—Dear Index:
Here comes a girl of sixteen summers,
though a stranger to you all. Will you
admit her to write a few lines to the
Children’s Corner? My heart is filled
with gladness when I read so many
nice letters written by the boys and
girls. As this is my first attempt to
write, I hope to be admitted to the
band with your happy boys and girls.
I am a member of the Baptist church
and have been for years. If I am
making my visit too long, please for
give me.
I am, your loving friend,
M. H.
AUGUSTA. —Dear Index: I was glad
to see my last letter in the Index.
We still have a good Sunday-school.
Mr. Stockton was ordained a preacher
lari: Sunday here at the Second Bap
tist church. I think Mr. Stockton will
make a good preacher. I like to hear
him preach now. I am going to
school now and have to study hard,
for I will soon have to go to work.
I hope to see this in the Index soon.
I will close, with best wishes to the
Index. Your friend,
LINTON MOODY.
BAXLEY.—Dear Index: I am a lit
tle ten-year-old. I do enjoy read
ing the Index. I ask admittance to
the Children’s Corner. I go to church
and Sunday-school. I hope to live a
Christian life. I hope to spend my
life with good people. I will close.
Love to the dear Index and cousins.
Your friend,
JESSIE MILTON.
V. E Orr, Atlanta, Seats Churchee
and schools.
P*| l %| H V a Business Course
i |jj to one person in every
►K■■ ■■ county. Please apply
I 11 IL promptly to Georgia
" Business College,
todecit * Macon, Georgia
7