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THE TIMELY WARNING.
BY MAKYO. HALPINE.
“Good-night, papa>” said a sweet childish
voice.
I looked down in surprise upon tlie little
girl that was standing beside ray friend’s l
knee,* for though this was our first meeting;
after separation for some years, I had sup
posed him lo l>e childless.
♦She had entered so noiselessly that until |
she spoke, neither of us Jmd l>ecn conscious
t>f tier v
“Good-night, my daughter,” said my host,
% smile of inSnile teuoerness softened his
rather ste. n lectures, and holding out his
arras a he. spoke.
The child sprang quickly to the shelter of
that broad breast, laying her soft cheek
lovingly against his.
As lie field her thus, stroking as tenderly
as a mother might, the shining hair that
mingled wLJh Ids own jetty locks, I thought
that f had never seen a prettier picture.
She was in bnn so petite, with features
almost mfimtine in their delicacy of outline,
he so strong and stately; her complexion
wa' l exquisitely air, and her eyes of the
so fur l bine, while his wore black and pierc
ing, and hi-* race bronzed by the exposure to
sun and'storm in- ide.ita? to his adventurous
life.
A in a'’oijly booking woman opened the
doo*-, oair ing upou the threshold as if reluc
tant to disturb them.
As oon ag ray friend observed her, he
arose, and blessing the child with a solemni
ty and t''ud' > rns'is 1 had never witnessed in
him before, di mi vied her.
“Not your own daughter?” I jsaid, as
soon a3 were hi. done.
“No ; Ink I could not love her better if she
was. She is Ihe moil precious of all ray
earthly pos /T don, as well siie might be. My
darling- little Kathie ! she saved my life.”
' What, that slender delicate child?”
“Yes ; and when she was smaller and young
er llun she is now.”
“I will tell you how it w is,” added my
friend, replying more to the eager inquiry in
my eyes, hither than to anything I had said.
“It is not a long story.”
And pn diiug toward ihe a cut glass dish,
of so,me quaint and curious pattern, filled
with heavy clusters of grapes, my host settled
himscb back in his easy chair, and commenc
ed a q follows:
About two years ago, import ant business
called me to A , in the western part of
Canada. Partly because I was more accus
tomed 1o that kind of locomotion, and partly
bo au e public conveyances in that section
of the country were slow and uncertain, I
started on horseback.
I had been about a fortnight on my way,
and was beginning to congratulate myself
that I must be near the termination of my
journey.
it was near sundown, and the sky began
to look aif a storm w r as brewing. I had
ridden many hours through a rude, thinly
sct.led country, and began to look anxiously
about for some human habitation. It was,
therefore, with a feeling of relief that I saw,
a few rods ahead of me, what seemed to be a
public house. It was so long since I had
seen one that, in spite of its dark, dreary ap
pearance, it had a pleasant look to me.
There were neither trees nor any signs of
vegetation around the house, in front of which
a crazy looking sign was creaking in the
wind that was rising and upon which could
be seen a few letters of what was evidently
meant for‘Man and Beast,’now nearly effaced
by exposure to the weather.
As I rode up to the door, I saw a stout
middle-aged man sitting upon the rude porch,
cleaning a gun.
“Good evening, friend,” I said. “Can
you tell me how far it is to the village of
A?”
fiie man awe me a quick, comprehensive
glance, and then dropped his eyes.
“It is a matter of eight miles, he replied:
“just beyond Black Forest, the edge of which
you can see from here.”
‘You had better not attempt it to night,”
he added, as he saw I was hesitating as to
-whether 1 had bettor stop or push ahead, now
that I was so near my journey’s end. “There
is a storm coming up ; besides, a good many
travelers have been robbed in Black Forest
lately.”
‘*l believe I won't risk it, then,” I said;
for I have that about me that I shouldn't
care to lose.’’
I recalled, afterwards, the sudden brighten
ing of the landlord's eyes as I said this, but
it was so brief that it made little impression
upon me at the time.
Remarking that his hostler had gone away
on an errand, lie took charge of my horse,
and taking my saddle bags in my Wiand, I
entered the house.
It consisted of a large hall, with a good
sized room on either side. As soon as I
stepped in, my attention was arrested by a
lit 1 le'girl, in spite of her neglected appearance,
one of the most perfectly lovely little crea
tures that ever I saw.
I learned afterwards that she was nearly
nine, but so small and delicate was she, that
she looked full three years younger.
In one of the rooms was a large coarse
featured woman, with a peculiar disagree
able expression of countenance, engaged in
some domestic duties ; the other was vacant,
and entering it, I took a seat upon the settee.
The little girl came and stood by the open
door, fixing her large, earnest eyes upon me
with a mournful intentness of expression
that I never saw in any child before or since.
I smiled and held out mv hand to her. To
my surprise she came directly to me.
Touched by this expression of confidence
in an entire stranger, no less than by her ex
ceeding beauty, I took her upon my lap.
“You are not my papa,” she said, regard
ing me with the same wistful look, “ but you
look like him.”
“Wh ere is your papa?” I inquired more
for the sake of talking than because I cared
to know.
The child shuddered and turned pale.
Just then Ihe landlord entered, lie frown
ed as his eye fell upon the child and looked
uneasy.
“You must not trouble the gentleman,” he
said in a voi ie whose harshness was in mark
ed contrast to the smooth, oily tones he bad
used in speaking tome. “Get down and go
into the kitchen.”
The "hild shrank, in mortal fear, from
that look : and in spite of in}' detaining hand,
slipped quickly from my knee and left the
room.
After partaking of a warm, substantial
supper, I requested to be shown to my room,
as I was desirous of taking an early start in
the morning.
The room into which the landlord took me,
was an up one, of good size and comfortably
furnished. L observed that there was only
one window, and that one very small, and
provided with shutters.
As I was examining ray knapsack, with
my back to the door, I heard a faint rustle,
and turning, I saw the little girl I had observ
ed below standing in the middle of the room,
with an expression upon her countenance,
which startled me as much as her unexpected
appearance.
“Are you going to stay here to-night?”
she said, in a hurried whisper.
“Yes,” I replied. “Won Id n't you like to
have me?”
“No, oh no,” she said witli the same look
and tone, and shuddering as she spoke.
I “This is a dreadful place. Du't stay !” If
you do, they will kill you just as they did— ’
| “Kathie, Kathie!” screamed the harsh
• voice oftiie landlord's wife, “come down here,
! this minute.”
Kathie's eves dilated with terror; and
turning, she glided from the room as quickly
and noiselessly as she had entered.
Listening, I heard angry voices below;
then a sharp cry, ending in piteous sobs, which
gradually died away, as if the child was
conveyed to some distant part of the house.
Filled with indignation and alarm, I open
ed the door, with the intention of interfering ;
but feeling upon second thought, how use
less auj r such attempt would lie,in my present
situation, I closed it and went to the window.
I placed my hand upon the shutters ; the} r
were iron, and firmly fixed into the case
ment.
It did not take me long to decide what to
do. After examining my revolver, to see if
it was all right, I took m3' traps and descend
ed to the bar-room.
The landlord started with an angry look
when he saw me.
“I have concluded to resume my journey,”
I said, in as careless a tone as I could
assume. “Please bring horse directly to
she door.”
“Every one to his fancy,” said the man,
glancing sharply at me from the comer ofhis
e> r qs ; “but I shouldn’t want to pass through
Black Forest alone such a night as this.”
“You forget my trusty friend here,” I said,
touching my revolver significantly, as I spoke.
The villain cowered ; for he saw in a mo
ment, that I understood him.
“I s'pose 3 r ou know your own business
best,” lie muttered 8111101113% as he went out
for 103” horse.
It was witli feelings of joy that I found
myself again in the saddle gloomy and lonc
ty as was the wa3 r before me. Yet my
thoughts reverted sadly to the sweet child, to
wiiose timely warning I owed so much : and
I determinrd to obtain a search warrant, and
rescue her, if possible, from the cruel hands
of those whom I felt could have no legal
claims upon her.
J noon shuck into the Black Forest, which
was composed principally of fir and pine,
and to whose dark foliage it doubtless owed
its mime.
Bnt soon the faithful creature that had
never failed me before, began to halt, and
finally became so lame as to be unable to
proceed further. Suspecting some treachery,
I dismounted.
The sky had partially cleared, and the
moon had risen, but she* gave only a fitful
light, and had now entirely disappeared un
der a cloud. But striking a match, I discov
ered that two sharp pebbles had been skill
fully inserted into one of the forehoofs, and
which had been driven, with every step, fur
ther into the bone. I succeeded in dislodging
one, but the other defied all my efforts ; so
tying the animal to a tree, I determined to
proceed on foot.
I had hardly done so when I heard sounds
of horses’ feet along the road. I stepped
back in the shadow of the tree, and looked
in the direction whence it proceeded.
I could just discern the outlines of two
horsemen, who reined up within a few feet of
the spot where I stood.
I felt that the odds were greatly against
me, but I was determined to sell my life
dearly.
“I shouldn’t s'pose his horse could have
taken him any further,” said one of them,
whose voice I instantly recognized as that of
my late host.
“Ilist! here is his horse,’’said the other, as
an impatient movement of the animal bett
ed his proximity.
Just then the moon, emerging from a cloud,
revealed my form distinctly, as I stood, with
one finger on the trigger, watching for the
first gleam of light, to make my aim sure.
The landlord’s eyes fell directly upon me,
and with a muttered curse he snatched a pis
tol from his belt. But lie was too late ; there
was a sharp whistle, followed by a dull, hea
vy sound, throwing his hands upward, liefell
forward upon his horse.
As he fell, his pistol, which was at half
cock, was discharged, to all appearances mor
tally wounding his companion, who dropped
instantly to the ground.
But it seemed that this was merely a feint;
for no sooner did he see that I was otf my
guard that he fired. Fortunately he aimed
too high, and the ball passed harmlessly over
my head.
I sprang forward, and after a brief strug
gle succeeded in disarming him. Then per
ceiving that the bone of his knee was shatter
ed, making his escape impossible, I left him,
and mounting the fine looking animal he rode,
I resumed my journey.
It was passed midnight when I reached
A , and broad daylight when, accom
panied by a magistrate, a posse of villagers,
l returned to the scene of my night’s adven
ture.
The landlord lay just as he had fallen, his
pale face turned up to the rays of the rising
sun. The other villain hail managed to
crawl away, but was soon tracked and secur
ed.
We then went in a bod}’’ to the tavern.
There was no one in the house but the old
woman, who, though she seemed at first a
little startled by our entrance, manifested
the most stolid indifference, even when'told
of the fate of her husband. As she was be
lieved to be accessory to his crimes, she was
taken into custody.
To my surprise and astonishment, little
Kathie was nowhere to be found. It was
in vain that I questioned the woman, endeav
oring by alternate threats and bribes, to ob
tain some clue to her fate ; she maintained a
sullen silence,
They had all gone, but I still lingered,
thinking sadly of the dear child, whom I was
constrained to fear in saving my life had
lost her own, when I heard a faint "cry.
I put my ear to the floor whence it seemed
to proceed, and it was repeated. As quick
as thought, I removed some straw that was
lying upon the floor, revealing a trap door.
I lifted it up, and there in a dark, damp,
noisome hole, was poor little Kathie, almost
fainting from terror.
Myjoy in finding her you can well imagine ;
and as for her, she clung to me as wc clin o,
to the only friend we have.
The man was tried and executed, the
woman turning state’s evidence, lie con
fessed upon the scaffold to the murder of a
number of travelers, among whom was Kathie’s
father.
As soon as my littler protege was able to
travel, I took her with me to the States.
Though the ven' idea of parting with her
was a painful one, a sense of duty induced
me to write to her nearest male relative, an
uncle, residing in Ohio, stating what I had as
certained in regard to his brother's fate, and
the singular Providence which had given his
little niece so strong a claim upon m3 r love
and protection.
But he had a large family of his own ; and
though he would have given a home to his
brother’s child had she stood in need of it,
upon learning the circumstances, very will
ingly relinquished her to me.
She has lived with me ever since, growing
nearer and dearer to m3' heart ever3 r day.
“So you perceive,” added my friend, in
conclusion, “that I did not speak lightly
when I said that little Kathie saved my life.
And 1 have sometimes thought,” he added,
his expressive eyes growing soft and misty
as he spoke, “that she has done much toward
making it worth the saving ; for never, until
I felt the flinging of her little arms around
my neck, did I realize the full import of
those hoty words. ‘Of such is the kingdom
of heaven.’”
And as I looked upon him, and thought of
the one great sorrow that had darkened his
youth, turning to bitterness the sweet spring
of domestic affection, and the life led since,
so calculated to draw out the harsher and
sterner part of his nature, I thanked God for
the angel lie had sent to him, in the form of
a little child.
Studying Naturar Philosophy.
Old Keyser found Cooley’s bo3 r standing in
a very suspicious manner under his best ap
ple tree, with a stick in his hand, and a cer
tain bulgy appearance about his pockets.
Having secured him firmly by the collar,
Keyser shook him up a bit, and then asked
him, sternly, what he was doing there.
“ Ain't adoin’ nothin’,” said Cooley, “I
came over yer to study.”
“ That’s entirely too thin,” exclaimed
Keyser.
“ Yes, I did ; I come over 3 T er to study
about Sir Isaac. We had it in our lesson.
He was in an orchard and saw an apple fall,
and that made him invent the ’traction of
gravitation ; and I come 3 T er to see if it was
so.”
“It won’t do, sonny,” said Keyser.
—“You’re too enthusiastic about Sir
Isaac; and, besides, what were 3’ou going to
do with that stick?”
“ With this stick? This 3'er stick? What
was I goin’ to do with this stick? Why, a
bo3 ,p gave me this stick to hold for him while
he went on an errand tor his aunt.”
“ And where did that apple-core come
from there on the ground?”
“That apple-core? That one tying there?
The birds is awful on apples this season. I
saw a blackbird drop that there, an’ I says
to myself, them birds are just ruinin’ Mr.
Keyser s apples.”
FACTS AND FANCIES.
The dark age—the shady side of thirty.
A poser for an oculist—a window-blind.
What is stronger than a council of ten? A
potent-eight.
Some people at a crowded evening party
had belles on their toes.
Why is a proud girl like a music-box ?
Because she is full of airs.
When a kettle just begins to boil, is it's
music that of a dull simmer ?
Sometimes coal does not burn well of an
evening, because it’s slate.
A shoemaker alwa3 T s finishes his shoe at
the beginning, and begins at the last.
Women think all men are thieves. Well,
the3 r may rob them even of their names.
Better go to bed supperless than get up in
debt.
Curran, the barrister, was once asked b}'
one of his colleagues, “Do 3 r ou see anything
ridiculous in this wig ?” “ Nothing but the
head,” was the repty.
“ Old age is coming upon me rapidly,” as
the urchin said, when he was stealing apples
from an old man’s garden, and saw the owner
coming, whip in hand.
“Are 3 T ou the mate of the ship ?” asked an
emigrant of the cook, who was an Irishman.
“ No, sir,” was the repty; “ I am the man
who cooks the mate.”
“ 0, Tommy, that was abominable in you
to eat your little sister’s share of the cake.”
“ Why,” said Tommy, “ didn’t you tell me,
ma, that I was always to take her part ?”
The poet Rogers once observed to a lady :
“ How desirable it is, in any danger, to have
presence of mind !” “ Yes,” she quickly re
plied ; “ but I would rather have absence of
body.”
“ How old are you ?” asked an English rail
road conductor of a little girl whom her moth
er was trying to pass on a half ticket. “ I'm
nine at home, but in the train I am only six
and a half.”
An old lady, whose son was about to pfo
eeed to the Black Sea, among other admoni
tions, gave him strict injunctions not to bathe
in that sea, for she did not want to see him
come back a “ nigger.”
Two gentlemen, one named Woodcock, the
other Fuller, walking together, happened to
see an owl. Said Fuller, “ That bird is very
much like a woodcock.” “You are very
wrong,” said Woodcock, “for it’s Fuller in
the head, Fidler in the eyes, and Filler all
over.”
A wife wanted her husband to sympathize
with her in a feminine quarrel, but lie refused,
saying : “ I've lived long enough to know
that one woman is as good as another, if not
better.” “ And I,” retorted the exasperated
wife, “ have lived long enough to learn that
one man is just as bad as another, if not
worse.”
“Now, [then, children,” said a parish
school-mistress, showing her children off on
examination day, “who loves all men?”—
“ You, Missus,” was the unexpected reply.
Athletic sports for ladies—Jumping at con
clusions, walking 'round a subject, throwing
the hatchet, and, during the holidays, boxing
the ears of troublesome young brothers.
“ Division of labor.” First swell—“ Deuced
hot, Fwank! Call a cab !” Second swell—
—“ Tell you what, old fellow, you shout, and
I'll hold up ’umbrellar. ’Get through it that
way.”
On Monday evening, his wife asked him
where he was going, as she observed him
putting on his overcoat. “I am going to sally
forth," he replied ; and she warmly rejoined :
“Let me catch you going with any Sally
Forth.”
THE FARM.
Whose Brain Cost the Most, the Farmer’s
or the Professional Man’s.
We have no where else found the case more
forcibly put than in the following, by a cor
respondent of the excellent paper, the Herald
and Mail, of Columbia, and then we know
the writer to be a man who thinks and works,
and who has pondered this subject till he
fully apprehends its weight and influence ;
and" it only requires time for all to read, think
and understand, and realize its force as he
does, to see a complete change of public sen
timent, which shall revolutionize the educa
tion, workings and interests of the great mass
of producers and elevate them and make the
whole country more generous toward each
other, mutually interested and prosperous.
The great fact stated by the writer can be
illustrated and proven in various ways. The
farmer whq toils for forty years gathers knowl
edge and experience costing more labor,
weariness and anxiety than the education of
any other professional man costs ; and then
the avowedly professional man charges ten
times as much for his advice and work as
the farmer does; and in case of a dispute as
to a fee, professional men are called in to saj r
what is right, while the old farmer has to
abide by the professional decision whether it
be for or against him. We wish every one
could and would read and ponder these
things, for all should understand and appre
ciate their full force, lie says : I have often
heard the remark in mingling among the peo
ple, that lawyers, physicians, teachers and
ministers, should have more pay for their
labor than a farmer, because it had cost them
more time and money to prepare themselves
to do the work; or, in other words, their
brains cost them more than the farmer’s.
Of all the professions, trades and callings,
the farmer pays the dearest price for liis
knowledge, lie never errs in judgment but
it costs him something. If he does not pre
pare his soil properly, and reap in due sea
son, he is the loser. Every day develops
some new idea. The change of seasons, the
uncertainty of the weather, and many like
incidents, all tend necessarily to change his
programme of operations. He can have no
chart by which he can regulate his business.
His movements are upon the spur of the mo
ment, depending entirety upon circumstances
that he has no control over. If he fails to
adapt himself to all these breakers and there
by steer clear, it is at Ins 1 own expense and
cost. No reward, no income for his expend
ing labor. These difficulties are presenting
themselves before him every day—nay, even
every hour, and there is no remedy by which
he can correct them, except at a heavy cost.
Think for one moment—his soil washed
away by the rains ; bis teams gradually giv
ing away ; his laborers employed at labor not
remunerative ; his farming implements wear
ing away ; insects destroying his crop ; dry
weather parching up old mother earth ; either
too dry or too wet, too hot or too cold ; storms
of wind sweeping over his crop and laying
it waste ; —these are only a few of the difficul
ties that the farmer's brain has to encounter
and overcome, and that at a heavy outlay of
time, labor and money. His occupation can
only be followed during the day, and not like
those of the professions, who can make as
good progress at night as in the day, in pre
paring to succeed in their vocation. Besides
this, the lawyer may lose his case from igno
ranse or carelessness, and still he receives his
fee ; the physician may not succeed in over
coming the disease of his patient; the teach
er may fail to inculcate his text books in the
minds of his pupil; the preacher may send a
soul to perdition by teaching false doctrines ;
the editor may lead his readers to adopt
measures to overturn the government; —yet
they are all remunerated for their labor in
dollars and cents.
It is through the labor of the farmers that
the muscles and brains are produced in all
the professions. They are the foundation,
the chief corner stone, yea the very mud sill,
upon wnich the success, the prosperity and
happiness of mankind depend. If, then,
their mission is so necessary, so important,
so noble, why not let them rise up in the
scale of superiority which nature and God
has intended for them, and take their posi
tions on the top round of the ladder of fame.
It is the farmer’s own fault that he does
not rule and govern the world. He has the
numbers, he has the wealth, lie has the intel
ligence, and all he has to do is to have confi
dence in himself, and but reach forth in his
might, to take possession of his prize.. The
“Father of his Countty’ was a tiller of the
soil. What he did you can do. Then, being
the benefactors of your race, arouse your
selves to the importance of your strength
and ability, and show to the rest of mankind
that you are equal to the emergency of the
times, in uprooting the false idea that your
brains are not as valuable as the brains of
men who belong to what are called the “learn
ed professions.” —Rural Sun.
Preparing Ground for Turnips.
A crop of good turnips is quite convenient,
and now is not a bad time for sowing seed in
some places, and getting land in first rate
order in other latitudes. The turnip is a
plant that grows rapidly in rich soil well cul
tivated after a few weeks start. Manure,
wood ashes and superphosphates generally
pay handsomely on this crop. It is bad econ
omy to sow turnip seed on poor land without
some fertilizer. Manure in the drill is much
better than no manure. No turnip patch is
better than one fertilized by yarding sheep
on the ground. Stock of any kind may be
used in a way to enrich a few acres by their
droppings every year. Woods, pastures and
outlying fields can supply on many farms a
great deal of fertilizing material to improve
all the land near the homestead. Cattle,
horses, sheep and hogs l ave legs and feet to
walk a mile in the morning to their grasiug
ground, and back in the evening. They are
living machines for the cheap manufacture of
manure, to carry and deposit it where it will
do the most good. A great deal of valuable
meat, milk, wool and horse-flesh can be man
ufactured from grass, turnips, beets, carrots,
corn, cow-peas, clover and alfalfa. We
believe in roots, but in other crops as well.
The true policy is to make every rood of land
do its best for the thoughtful fanner.—Nash
ville Union <s• Amer.
5?
A new farm Yearly,— The Rural Adver
tiser, for June, in remarking on the various
fertilizers used by farmers says there is one
unfailing source of supply within reach of
every farmer. This is found in deep plow
ing and a proper pulverization of the soil.
In other words, “depth of soil beneath their
crops and fertilizing atmospheric gases above
them.” By plowing an inch deeper every
year, anew farm, so to speak, is obtained.
Of course there is a limit to this, but the
trouble generally is, that but few persevere
till they reach it. —Maryland Farmer.
Indian corn contains 23 pr. ct. potash, 22
pr. ct. soda, and 4 pr. ct. sulphur acid.
SUNDAY READING.
Beyond the Stars—What I
*Tis easy to trace the soul to the hour
That deprives the form of its breath;
But who shall follow the spirit's flight,
When it seeks the portal of death ?
Who rend the vail that hides from our view
The future, beyond the bright stars ?
Who follow- the spirit’s upward flight,
When it breaks through our earthly bars ?
What —ah ! what is that futile state ?
And w here, oh w-herc is the goal
Which Christians say is the resting place
And home of the deathless soul ?
Is it beyond the dark blue sky—
Beyond where the stars now shine ;
Where the angels sing their song of praise
- To the spirit of God divine ?
Can life be the end of all our hopes?
Is the struggle with death all o'er?
Or is there a life beyond the tomb,
Where the soul lives evermore?
Does the soul exist when life has flown,
Or sink, like the corse, into night?
Let us rather believe the brilliant mind
Still continues its upward flight.
Let us think that the soul can never die—
That its mission will never end:
That there is a land beyond the sky.
Where friend will still meet friend ;
That, freed from the turmoil and ills of life,
From its troubles, wounds and scars,
The soul will worship the God of Light
In His mansions “ beyond the skies.” -
Warm Weather Christians.
Dr. Cuyler, in the Evangelical, writes of
warm weather Christians. Among other
things, he says : “ When the glass gets above
ninety, the inward emotions are congealed
and piety is “■ past feeling.” Tliis is the
species of Christian professors who spend the
Sabbath hours fanning themselves on their
piazzas wheii their pastor goes by on his way
to his and their sanctuary. It is not too warm
for him to preach, but it is too warm for them
to listen. He has toiled through one or two
severe summer daj r s to prepare a discourse
for their souls ; they are unwilling to go and
sit for half an hour as the recipients of ‘ the’
truth as it is in Jesus/ What must the world
think of such a religion ?” How many earn
est, hard-working clergymen there are in the
land who echo Dr. Cuyler’s sentiments. It
is, indeed, a matter of which the pillars of
the church should be ashamed, that they
should suffer their minister to conduct sen-ice
amid the heat and discomfiture of a summer
Sunday, while they, with coat and vest off.
slippers on, and suspenders down, recline in
their back yards under the wide-spreading
branches of the umbrageous apple tree, with
a refrigerator within reach. If there is ever
a time when professors of religion need
spiritual check and guidance, it is in the sum
mer time. There are so many very excellent
church members who leave their religion to
the care of the stay-at-home pastor, while
they, in some distant watering place, give
their “ desires and passions” a seabreeze air
ing, very detrimental to the moral health.—
The thermometer is a great regulator of re
ligious fervor.— Courier-Journal.
Judge Not.
We have no right to judge others until we
know all of the circumstances that influence
their conduct. In many cases we might act
like those we condemn under like circum
stances.
A young man Employed in a printing office
in one of our large cities incurred the ridicule
of the other compositors on account of his
poor clothes and unsocial behavior. On sev
eral occasions, subscription papers were pre -
sented him for various objects, but he refused
to give his money.
One day a compositor asked him to con
tribute for a pic-nic party, but was politely
refused.
“ You are the most niggardly man ever
employed in this office,” said the compositor,
angrily.
“ Stop,” said the young man, choking with
feeling. “ You have insulted me.” .
The other compositors gathered around the
excited men. The 3'oung man looked at them
for a few minutes with a famished look, and
a strange fire in his large eves.
“ You little know,” he said, “ how unjustty
you have been treating me and accusing me.
For more than a 3 r ear I have been starving
m3-self to save money enough to send m3 r
poor blind sister to Palis to be treated by a
physician who has cured many cases of blind
ness similar to hers. I have always done my
duty in this office, and have minded my own
business. I am sacrificing everything in life
for another. Would either of you do as
much ? Could any one do more ?”
He had been judged without a knowledge
of circumstances.
Be slow to censure and condemn. We
cannot read the hearts of others, and in many
cases, to know all is to forgive all.
“ Judge not, that 3 r e be not judged.”—
Youth's Companion.
Liberty to Speak Out-
Spurgeon, at the Congregational Breakfast,
gave vent to the following: “If I have a
man's friendship, I will only have it on the
terms that he will allow me every now and
then to cudgel him, on the understanding that
he should also be at liberty to cudgel me. I
believe these are times in which we must all
speak out what we believe, and of course we
have all our own ways of speaking it. It
must not be said, ‘ You shall be silent on that
point, and not speak upon the otherbut,
‘ You shall speak, each of 3'ou, just as you
please ; and if someone of you is a little ill
mannered, and cannot speak as well as oth
ers, yet on shall be borne with and pitied,
but 3'ou shall afterwards still be forgiven.’ ”
Thou Shalt Not Steal.
This means more than that we must not
take what belongs to others—we must also
take care of the property of others. A boy’
once ran half a mile trying to stop a stranger
whose trunk was in danger of being lost from
the carriage. That was according to the
eighth commandment.
Farmer Bolt turned the cattle out of neigh
bor Ileck’s field, fixed the fence a little, and
then left word at the house. And this was
according to the commandment. Go thou
and do likewise.
Truth.
Truth is always consistent with itself, and
needs nothing to help it out; it is always
near at hand, sits upon our lips, and ready to
drop out before we are aware ; a lie is trouble
some, and sets a man’s invention upon the
rack, and one trick needs a great many more
to make it good. It is like building upon a
false foundation, which continually stands in
need of props to shore it up, and proves at
last more chargeable than to have raised a
substantial building at first upon a true and
solid foundation.
Never part without loving words to think
of during y-our absence. It may be that 3 r ou
will not meet again in life.
Have the courage to own that y r ou are poor
and thus disarm poverty of its sting.
FOREST NEW®
CLUB RATES!
To those wishing to get up Clubs, the j
lowing liberal inducements are offered:
For Club of Five Subscribers, . 4
“ “ “ Ten “ . j/i
i “ “ “ Twenty “ - jjj
With an extra cop3' of the paper to the
son getting up the last named Club.
THE CASH MUST ACCOMPANY ALL CUB QRQ^
EdPTo any person furnishing a Club
Ten responsible subscribers who will n& v
the Fall, ail extra copy of the paper wfij
given.
County ami totou directory
JACKSON SUPERIOR COURT,
Hox. GEO. D. RICE, - - . J(l>
EMORY SPEER, Esq., - - Sol.
COUNTY OFFICERS.
WILEY C. HOWARD, - - - - OrdiJ
THOS. 11. XIBLACK, Clerk S.W
JOHN S. HUNTER. Sh -
WINN A. WORSHAM, - - - Deputy
LEE J. JOHNSON, ----- l'nW
JAMES.L. WILLI AMSON, - - Tax Colty
GEO. W. BROWN. “ Rcceiv,
JAMES L. JOHNSON, - - County Sury,
WM. WALLACE, - - - GW
G. J. N. WILSON, County School Commk
Commissioners (Roads and
Seymour, W. J. Haynie, W. G. Steed. Mott
the Ist Fridays in August and November. T.
Niblack, Esq., Clerk.
MA CIS TRA TES AND BAIIIFF*.
Jefferson District, No. 245, N. 11. Penderm
J. P. ; 11. T. Flecman, J. P. John M. Burr
Constable.
Clarkesbo.rough District, No. 242, F. M. R,
day, J. P.; M. B. Smith, J. P.
siiller’s District, No. 155, H. F. Kidd, .J. p. j
Chandler’s District, No. .24(1, Ezekiel Hewir
J P.; .J. G. Barson, J. P.
Randolph’s District, No. 248, Pinckney'
Pirklc, J. P.; Jas. A. Straynge, J. P.
Cunningham r s District. No. 428, J. A. But,
ton. J. P.; T. K. Randolph, J. P.
Newtown District, No. 253, G. W. O'KelTv,
P.; T. J. Stapler, Not. Pub. & Ex. Off. J,p.
Mmnish's District, No. 255. Z. W. IIooJ J.fj
Harrisburg District, No. 257, Win. M. Wort
J. P.; J. W. Pruitt, J. P.
House's District, No. 243. A. A, Hill, j. P,
BantafeO District. No. 1042, W. R. Boyd, 'J.fj
S./G. Arnold, J. P,
Wilson's District, No. 40/), W. J. Cointy J.fj
FRA TERN A L 1)IR ECTOR )\
Unity Lodge, No. 30, F. A. M., meets Ist Tn*- j
day-night in each month. 11. W. Bell, W. U I
John Simpkins. Sec'y.
Love 1 judge. No. 05, L ,0. O. F., meets on ffl
,and 4th Tuesday nights in each month. j
man, N. G.; G. J. N. Wilson, Sec'y.
Stonewall Lodge. No. 214. f. O. G. T i, meet-
Saturday night before 2d and 4th Sundays in e*
month. J. P. Williamson, Sr., W. C. r l’.; J. Lffl
Pendergrass, W\ It. S.
Jefferson Grange, No. 488, P. of 11., i I
Saturday before 4th Sunday in each month. Jiei
K. Randolph, M.; G. J. N. Wilson. Sec’y.
Relief (colored) Fire Company. No. 2, meets 1
ftli Tuesday night in each month. Henry Li. §
Captain; Ned Burns, Sec’y.
Oconee Grange, No. 301. meets on Saturday
fore the first Sunday in each month,, at Galilei. |
1 o’clock, P. M. A. C’. Thompson, W. M.; L’jl
Bush, Sec'y.
00 UNTY CHURCH DIRECTOR T.
WET! (ODIST.
Jefferson Circuit. —Jefferson, Harmony Grwß
Dry- Pond, Wilson's, I Lolly Springs. W.A.f.S
ris. P. C.
Mulberry Circuit. —Ebenezcr, Beth lei Tom, ('• I
cord. Centre and Pleasant Grove, Lebanon. A. 1
Anderson, P. C.
Chapel and Antioch supplied from W&fkfrfl
ville Circuit.
PRESBYTER I AX.
Tliyatira, Rev. G. 11. Cart!edge.Pastor; §* I
Creek, Rev. Neil Smith, Pastor; Pleasant Gw |
Rev. G. H. Cartledge, Pastor; Miiqroh, KtwJ 1
Smith, Pastor.
BAPTIST.
Cabin Creek, W. It. Goss, Pastor; lLarin |
Grove, W. B. J. Hardeman, Pastor; Zion, K< 1
W. 11. Bridges. Pastor; Bet hah ra. Rev. J. |
Davis, Pastor; Academy. Rev. J. N. Coil. Pat; $
Walnut. Rev. J. AT. Davis. Pastor; (.’root®
Creek, W. F. Stark, Pastor; Oconee Church J I
A. J. Kellev, Pastor; Poplar Springs. Rev. |
A. Brock, Pastor; Handler's Creek, W.F.Stufl
Pastor.
PROTEST ANT M KTHODIST.
Pentecost, Rev. It. S. McGarrity, Pastor.
44 CHRISTIAN.”
Bethany Church. Dr. F. Jackson, Pastor.
Christian Chapel, Elder W. T. Lowe, Pastor. |
Galilee, Elder P. F. Lamar, Pastor.
FI RST UN I VERSA LIST.
Centre Hill, Rev. B. F. Strain, Pastor; Cb® f I
meeting and preaching every third Saturday* 1
Sunday.
JEFFERSON BUSINESS DIRECTORY.
PROFESSIONS.
Physicians... J. D. & 11. J. Long, J. J. h’
tor, N. W. Carithers,
Atty’s at Law... J. B. Silman, W. I.
•J. A. li. Maharfey, W. C. Howard, M. M. Pitm
P. F. Hinton.
MERCHANTS.
Pendergrass & Hancock, F. M. Bailey, Stw'
& Pinson, Wm. S. Thompson.
MECHANICS. , j
Carpenters ...Joseph P. Williamson, Sen
•J. P. Williamson, Tr.
Harness Maker... John G. Oakes.
Wagon Makers... Wm. Winbum, Mon f
Ray, (col.)
Buggy Maker...L. Gilleland.
Blacksmith...C. T. Story.
Tinner... John 11. Chapman.
Tanners. ..J. E. AH. J. Randolph. |
Boot and Shoe-Makers... X. B. Stark, |
horn M. Stark.
HOTELS.
Randolph House. "by Mrs. Randolph.
North-Eastern Hotel, by John siinpktE
Public Boarding House, by Mrs.
Worsham.
Liquors, Segars, Ae...J. L. Bailey. 1
Grist and Saw-Mill and Gin...J. D* * |
•J. Long.
Saw-Mill and Gin...F. S. Smith.
o 1
COUNTY SCHOOL DIRECTORY, i
Martin Institute. —.J. W. Glenn, Principa l
P. Orr, Assistant; Miss M. E. Orr, A***l
Miss Lizzie Burch, Music.
Centre Academy. —L. M. T.vle, Principal.
Galilee Academy. —A. L. Barge, Principal- y
Harmony Groce Academy. —R. S. Cheney, |
cipal. _ I
Mark Academy. —J. 11. McCarty, PTincipa*;J|
Oak Grove Academy —Mrs. A. C. P- |
Principal. . , 1
Academy Church. —J. J. Mitchell,
Duke Academy. —Mrs. 11. A. Deadwyler. ‘ ■
cipal. . 1 1
Park Academy. —Miss V. C. Park. Prinop 1 §
Chapel Academy. —W. H. Hill, Principal’ I
Holly Spring Academy —W. P. NewniaiV I
ARRIVAL AND DEPARTURE OFMjjM
Athens mail arrives at Jefferson on “S-I
days and Saturdays, at 10 o’clock, A. |
parts same days at 12 o'clock, M. . j,,
Gainesville mail arrives at Jefferson on
days and Saturdays, at 11 o'clock, A. M. * n I
parts same days at 12 o'clock, M.
Lawrencevillc mail arrives at Jefferson on ■ M
days, at 12 o'clock, M, and departs same a) I
o'clock, P. M. n e|§
F. L. Pendergrass, Dcp’yL* I