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Subscription SI Per Year. Vol. XXIX. Roman Kirke, r By John Robins. Standing on the brow of the hill behind my father’s house. 1 gazed long and silently down the valley before me. Ah, memory, memory, how it rushed through my mind! One short year before this I had lelt :ny father’s home to pursue iny studies at Emory college. What had that year been to me? 1 bad studied bard, and was sensible of the changes ttie year had brought. As a boy 1 bad found much plea¬ sure roaming through the woods or fishing in the creek running down the center of the valley before me. Now—now 1 took no delight in these things, and as 1 stood looking at the old familiar scenes this bright April morning—as the sun began to rise above the eastern hills there came over me a feeling ot despondancy and glooin. What were these things to me, tl is dull, monotonous country life, these quiet hills, these sleepy vales; could 1 ever again bring myself to be contented will) this; could J ever again grasp the handles ot a plow and follow a slow plodding hor^e back and forth along the furrow; no—no, I could not; life was too short to go plodding through it; in the mad race before me, 1 must nol lag behind, I—my thoughts were interrupted here by some moving objects on the hill across the valley ; 1 shaded my eyes with my hands as the morning sun was full in my race, to get a better view. Sjfcr*: •>v IF >; f J . ZZpi y \ i 7:1 k Miss Ellen Me Ray. i“ Ellen Me Ray and Rom »n Kirke!', 1 involuntarily ejaculated, A lovers' meeting in the early morning light, Ellen, tie most lovely maiden in the valley ; Roman, the handsomest and most manly youth in the county, A? 1 looked, she threw' ‘ r arms around his neck and kissed him cffeCtion- atelv * ir/.nediateiy she turned and moved away, going to her home, Roman (my adopted eii down the Mde of i hr hill, and crossing the valley came directly toward me. \Y e had btt n raided by the parents, and lived in the same home. From my earliest recol'ec- ’tion we had entertained «n affec— tion for each other, which, to ine at least, was as undying and ever- lasEug as the hills and mountains about us. • Knowing Roman as I did, no suspicion of evil in the meeting I kad just witnessed, came into my mind. He did not seem surprised at seeing me there, hut came direct- ly up and said : TheToccoa Record Toccoa, Georgia, May 16, 1902. “Hello John! looking over old scenes ? 1 » “Yes Roman,” I replied, “and ■a new one, too. > y 4 4 You saw Ellen and I across the va 1 ley, john ?” “Yes, 1 saw you; what does it mean Roman?” 4 4 Oh, nothing at present,” he replied. “From which I infer it means something later on?” 4 4 Yes John, I am going to marry Ellen some day ; you know how everything is just at present, you >n °L/a4 At J A Roman Kirke know', John, 1 could not take care of a wife. Father todl me yester¬ day I was to go back with you to Emory, and I have just told Ellen of it. It will take me at least four years to go through college, and another to get started in some kind of business by which I can make enough to take care of Ellen ; I told her this just now, while you were looking at us. > y 4 4 What does Ellen say to it Roman?” “She does not like it very much, she thinks we should get married now, but you know, John, her father seems to hate me. I am poor, of course, and he is w ell off; .. tliiiik he is looking for a better match for Ellen. 1 could not marry her now,unless we ran off together and 1 do not think I could agree to that. 1 do not like that kind o thing, 1 have made her promise to wait however. Yon know, John , she is just sixteen, and I cm only eighteen, so we have plenty time. >» Roman and myself were if possi- ble more than brothers. His father died about the time he was born, mid his mother (a distant relative of my father's) died about a year laier. . Roman was taken home by my father after his mother’* fune- ral, and g rc w up to be a* dear to us a son could have been. He was a handsome young man, large in stature and from Ins earliest days had lived an example of truth and honor. W hen 1 returned to Emory Ro- mun went with me. From tbc first he secon d to be quick in his studies and soon gained the good will of both teachers and students. 1 did not say anything to him about El— len McRay for p-robably a month after we had returned to Emory, and as he said nothing to me on the subject, I .naturally concluded that everything was moving on as he wished it. About this time however, he. told me that Ellen’s father had intercepted one ot I.it letters to her, and had written him u very insulting letter, demanding “flood Will to All Men.’ that all correspondence between his daughter and himself should cease and added : “What shall I do, John? I do not like to write to Ellen against her father’s wishc», still, still—” he ran his hands through his hair in a puzzled way and repeated, “What shall I do, John?” * 4 Have you heard from Ellen since you received her father’s let¬ ter?” I asked. ‘‘Yes, she seems to be very much worried, and suggests that I direct my letters for her to Mary Carroll, whom you know lives just a short distance from her. I do not like that, though ; it does not seem ex¬ actly the right thing to do.” “Well, what are you going to do?’* I asked. “I don’t know, I don’t know.” he replied, and went off to his room. I do not know how they man¬ aged their correspondence, but I am inclined to think he did not write to her again. When we returned to our home al ter the close of school, everything seemed to be just as we had left it. had if anything a stronger dis¬ like for the country than ever, and determined that now while the op¬ portunity presented itself, I would turn my attention to the study ot aw. When I mentioned this to my father, and spoke of Roman’s oratorical qualities, ne at once said that if we thought this was the course we were best fitted for, we had his full consent to follow it. Several weeks passed, I had not thought to ask Roman about Ellen, until when 1 saw him one day when he thought he was alone take a note from his pocket and read it; he then carefully tore it in little bits and scattered it to the wind. ••Hello, Roman! > 1 I cried, “is that a love letter?” He jumped when I spoke, then carelessly said. “No John, only a note from Ellen. She wants me to meet her over there on the hill where you saw us once. i i * 4 Well, are you going?” I asked. “Yes, I shall go, though I am afraid it may cause trouble.” *» When are you to meet her?” I asked. ••This evening at dusk. j >. That evening half hour before dusk, I sat on*the porch ot Mr. Me- Ray’s house talking of everything that came into my mind. He had nothing against me. As I had a gun and a-dog with me, he suppos¬ ed 1 had been hunting and just slopped wh'le passihg. After we had talked for some time, a young mat) a stranger to me, came out; Mr. McfRay introduced me to him —Mr. Anderson from New Or- leans, up here for his health. I was not much struck with Mr. An- derson, though he was a fairly good looking man. He only ma’ned on tbe porch a short time and then went back into the house. I remained. *ome time talking to Mr McRay, and having concluded that Ellen had got well away, took iny leave. Passing around the corner of liie house, I moved off in the direction where I thought Ellen and Roman might be. A quarter of a mile further on, as I reached the top of a little knoll, to my astonishment I noticed not more than fifty yards in front of me, a man lying behind a log. I quickly stepped behind a tree and watched to see what he was doinsr: he was evidenty watching Ellen and Roman. I craned my neck Successor t» Toccea Times and Tcccoa Hews. far around the tree and soon them out, about three hundred yards from the man. I was so busy looking at them that I did not notice the man for several When 1 looked at him again I saw the long, shining barrel of a rifle pointing over the log at the lovers, [The continuation of this re- markably interesting story will be found in next week’s Record.) Unconscious Influence. For none of us liveth to himself, and uo mau dieth to hituself.—[Roman*, xiv.. 7- Somebody has said that thoughts are things. The phrase is unfortu¬ nate, because it is misleading and inaccurate, This world is made up of things and forces. Thoughts are more subtle than mere things and far more potential, They are forces which change a man’s life for better or for worse. If you apply the piinciples of wireless telegraphy to spiritual concerns you will sect lie lull scope of my statement. We may safely do this, for there is a spiritual law running parallel to eveiy physical law, and no man can discover a physical law without suggesting a corressponding spiritual law. this way all thinkers stand shoul- der to shoulder, lifting the world out of the old into the new. The wireless telegrapher tells us that a word or its equivalent creates a vibration of the air, as a pebble creates a ripple in the pond, and this vibration speeds on its way to the destined terminus, however distant, and there makes itself known and felt. We are living in an age of miracles, or. in other words, an age of discovery, and tliis is one of the startling results. In like manner a word of scorn or o f praise hurled into the spiritual universe from a heart that loves or hates* becomes a living force, not lost in the general confusion as a single note is lost in the multitude of sounds, but going straight to the man or woman against whom or in favor’of whom it is directed. That other heart at the further end of the line perhaps half broken by remorse or timidly hoping for bet¬ ter days, is the receiving station of this wireless telegraphy, Your thought, critical or gentle, strikes that other heart with an impact which either hurts or helps. You mav not know that your thought has taken it* fight, that other per- son may not know whence it comes but all the same he is uplifted or depressed by it. This may seem strange and even incredible, but while it is to-day a possible fact, it may to-morrow be- come a demonstrated truth, and the next day it may change the whole outlook of the spiritual world. It has the appearance of a miracle, but protounder knowledge always seem miraculous, while in reality we only climb from the lower to the higher realm of law, see further and understand God better. A spoken thought i* even now recognized as a force when speak- ers and hearers are within earshot of each other. An oath, a compli- ment," a bit ot vocal flattery go through the ear to the heart and kindle a flame of sentiment or qf happiness. What you say becomes part of another man’s life and ex- cites passion or stimulates friend- ship. Why may there not be a quicker transit than the slew and dull ear affords? Why may not the time come when we can convey our thoughts without the coarse No. 20 medium of word*? There are no word* between u* and heaven. A prayer i« a longing of the soul, “uttered or unexpressed. »» God speaks to hearts. The impression is instantaueous, as when the suu makes it* mark on the photograph¬ er’s plate. There are “unseen be- ings who walk the earth both when we wake and when we sleep,” but they use no words. They make us feel tiieir presence, and we are a* sure that they are close by us as though we heard a trumpet call. What they would say steals into the heart, for our poor ears cannot catch it. We hear nothing, but we know that they are giving us a helping hand. Is there any language in heaven except that of thoughts? I When the world grows older why may we not speak to each other" without this cumbersome factor of spoken words? Progress is indefinite aud we are moving in that direction. We catch glimpse? of the possible already. A look, a pressure of the hand, 4U( j S y rn p a thy or contempt are complete, Enlarge tne circuin- Terence and you have a new truth. ^o one ncc ded to tell Christ what he thought. He read the heart as an open book. He looked at a mau and the man’s story was already told. Lips had nothing to do with it. The Master felt the woes and shared the joys of humanity. A subtler language than we can use was at his command. A thought is the wireless mes¬ sage of soul to soul. Your neigh¬ bors welfare is affected by your kind or unkind criticism of him. When we deal with subtile and far reaching forces of this kind, then religion which enjoin* char¬ ity is brought to the forefront a* themost important factor in humun life. If you would be at your best you must love your neighbor, for your theughts of him will either lift him up or trip him to a fall, The whole trend and swing of the universe bid & man be hon¬ est, just and gentle, for we|are so bound together that nobility in one kindles nobility in all, and one man’s hurt is an injury to ell. Since wejjare marching, one great company, from time to eternity let us go as brothers with a kindly word and a helping hand whenever opportunity offers. The New York Sun calls atten¬ tion to the fact that Juan Ferandez island was not Robinson Crusoe’s island at all. That not only was Defoe’s hero entirely fictitious, not having been drawn from Alexander* Selkirk,but that h**xprestly state* that the island upon which Rob¬ inson was cast away was “off the coast of America near the mouth of the great river Oroouoque (Orinoco) and was, therefore in the Atlantic instead of the Pacitic ocean. Hence, to refer to Juan Fernandez as “Robinson Crusoe's island,, i* a mistake, though it must be admitted a very common one. The governor of Arkansas, who has pardoned a negro criminal on the condition that he become a citi¬ zen of Massachusetts, ought to keep in mind two important facts. One is that the constitution torbids “cruel and unusual punishment,” ana the other is that the Governor of Massachusetts might take it into his head to retaliate by sending to Arkansas white criminals from his state.