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THE CRAWFORD COUNTY CORRESPONDENT.
REV. DR, TALMAGE.
TUE BROOKLYN DIVINE’S SUNDAY
SERMON.
TEXT : JEREMIAH 8; 7 ; THE BTOltK IS THE
HEAVENS KSOWETH HER APPOINTED '
time, etc.
When God would set fast a l»:autifu
thought, he plants it in ft tree. When
he would put it afl la', he fashions j- into
a fish. IV hen he would have it glide the
air, he molds it into n hiid. My text
speaks of ft ur birds of beautiful instinct
—the stork, of such strong t flection that
it is allowed familiarly to come, in Hol
land and Germany, and build its nest
% the doorway the sweet-disposition
over ;
ed turtle dovr, mingling in color white,
and black, and brown, and ashen, and
chestnut; the crane, with voice like the
clang of a trumpet; the swallow, swift
as a dart shot out of the bow of htaven,
falling, mounting, skimming, sailing—
four birds started by the prophet twenty
five centuries ago, yet flying on through
the ages. v. i'h rousing truth under glossy
wing and iu the clutch of stout claw. I
suppose it may have been this very sea¬
son of the year—autumn—and im¬ the
prophet out of door?, thinking of tl e hears
penitence of the people of his day,
a great cry overhead.
Now, you kDow it is do easy thing for
one with ordinary delicacy of eyesight to
look into the deep blue of the coon day
heaven; but the prophet looks up, and
there arc flocks. of storks, and turtle
doves, and cranes, nnd swallows, drawn
out in long lines for flight southward. As
is their habit, the cranes had arranged
themselves into two splitting lines, the makiog air with an
angle, wild a wedge tha old with
manding velocity, bidding crane, them onward: com¬
call
while the towns, and the cities, and the
continents slid under them. The prophet,
almost blinded from looking into the
dazzling heaveus, stoops down and bet ins
to think how much superior the birds
are in sagacity about the : r safety than
men about theirs; and he puts his hand
upon the pen aud begins to wrt e:
“The stork in the heaven knoweth her
appointed time; and the turtle dove and
the crane and the swallow observe the
time know of not their the judgment coming; of but the my Lor people
If you were iu the field today, in field, (he
clump of trees at the corner of the
you would see a convention of birds,
imisy as the American adjournment, congress the the Eng¬ last
night before cr as
lish parliament when some unfortunate
member proposes more economy in the
queen’s household—a convention of birds
all talking-at once; moving and ps'sing
resolutions on the subject of migration;
some proposing to go tomorrow, some
moving that they go today, some moving
that they go to Brazil, some to florid*,
.all some uotriimou^TtiEfeci to the t^JjJands of^ lust McSic^but fcb»y iJtt 5
-
go soon, for they have marching orders
from the Lord, written on the first white
theet of the frost and in There the pictoral is of
the-changing leaves. not a
belted kingQ-her.or a chaffinch, ar a fine
crested wren, or a plover, spend ora red-legged the
partridge the south, but for expects the to apartment? winter have
nt
already been ordered for them in South
America or in Africa; and after thous¬
ands of miles of flight, they w ill stop in
the very tree where they spent last Janu¬
ary. Farewell, bright plumage! Until
spring weather, away! Fly on, great
band of heavenly musicians! Strew the
continents with music, and whether
from northern fields or Carolinian swamps
or Brazilian groves men tee your wings
or bear your voice, may they bethink
themselves of the solemn words of the
text: “The stork in tha heaven knoweth
her appointed times; and the tuitle and
the crane and the swallow observe the
time of their coming; but my ptople
know not the judgment of the L rd.”
I propose, so far as God may help me,
this morning, currying out the idea of the
text, to show that the birds of the aii
have more sagacity than men. And 1
begin mingle by particularizing music with their and saying tl at
they undertaking work. 1b*
most serious of a bird’s lif*
is this annual travel from the Hudson to
the Amazon, from the Thames to the
Nile. Naturalists tell us that they ar
r vc there thin and w eary and plumage
ruffled,and yet they go singing all the
way; tha ground, the lower line of the
music, the sky, the upper line of the
music, themselves the notes scattered up
and down betw. eo. I t-upposo their
song gives elasticity to their wing, and
helps on with the journey, dwindling s
thousand miles into four hundred. Would
to God that we were as wise at they in
mingling Christian song with our every
day work! I believe there i* such a thing
as taking the pitch of Christian devot'on
in the morning and keeping it all the
day. I think we might take some of the
dul'est, heaviest, most disagreeable worn
of life, and set it to the tune of "Anti¬
och” gr “Alt. P.sgab.”
Il b a goo I sign when you bear a workman
whistle. It is a better sign when you bear him
bum a roondi iar. It is still a better sign when
you bear him sing tbe weeds of Isaac Watts or
Charles Wesley. A violin corded and atnmz, if
and something accidentally strikes it makes musi-,
I suppose there is such a thing as baring
> ur liear mso att uned by divine grace, that ere a
tue ly rebrsajjl^n roarff^JV >ns to of life believe will that make the a heaven¬
not potter
of Cbt^H Hg has yet be. n folly triad. I
l» lit O could roll tbe‘Old Hun
tire Vtbro tgh Wali street, itwouit
■fny Kii fins oris! disturbance ! I be
coeds and the narrows, and the
■ id are lo be swept oat by heart u
■&li«. home one asked Haydn, the
■ancian. bl why "Why," he always comp-wed
music. he said. "I
Irwiwe, Il When I think of Ged my
of Jot that the note* leap and
ini;, mly pen.” b fore tb? I wish Lord. we might With God alt ex- tor
and Christ for our tisrior. and
w home, and angels for future
. at J r a ifel me we
H^Ke ^■roeat all of the thii nous worid, of j r. let Going through Nr
ua
■ti. ■Fare on tic w»v to th* summery dime of
W- and firm th migratory popda-Mn* la
" -biaMtmnnai air learn away*
p ringing.
ChiHren of tbe heareri? K;n?.
As Sing te journey, Sarior tweet worthy iy ;
year Hu t pra.ee,
Qkrem in works and way*.
Yeata traveling borne to God,
In the way y -nr fetters treed ;
They ar their hmppy bow. tad we
Boon bapptnras shall are .
Ih* church of Qod aerer will b, »tr,urephaot
figs * y s 9 A ft* f • ixsr r* n t \ l * fra
[go ) airan farther, wierr aad than metric in that the feet the Unis that in of
wc.
come withm reach of the gutt; bat when they
' tart for the annual l! ght southward, they take
mark. their places The and lot go straight rifle that as an arrow brought to the
gest was Would ever
to shoulder cannot reach them. to God
that we were aa wise aa the stork and c ane in
our flight heavenward! We fly so low that we
tv c with n easy range of the world, the flesh
aud the ilevd. We are brought down by temp
t .lion, that ought not to come with'n a mile of
reaching in. Ob, for some of the faith of
G.o gc Muller of England, and Alfred of Cook* the
niau, once of the chu vii nu. taut, now
church trinmphrnt !■ o poor is the type of piety
in the cliutwh of Goi now, that tpen actually
caricature the idea hat there isanv such thing as
a higher l;fe. Moles never did b li ve in
eagies. But, my brethren, because we have
not reached these heights odrselY 8, shall we
deride the fact that there are any snch heiglds?
A man wav once talk ng to Brunei, the famous
tngineer, about the length of the railroad from
i on den to Bristol. The engineer said, "It is
not very great. We shall have after awhile a
steamer, running fiom England to New York.”
They langled h m to scorn; ceased hut we laugh have gone
so far now that we have to at any¬
thing as impossible for human impossible aclner.ment. for the
Thin, Lord? I I do ask, is believe anything that Gtxl exhausted all
not
his grace in Paul, and Latimer, and Edward
Payson. I b : ieve there are higher points of
Christ an attainment to be reached in the future
ayes of the Christian world.
You tell me that Paul Wtnt up to the Then tiptop I
of the Alps of Christian attainment.
tell you that the ato k and crane have found
tdot'e the Alps plenty of room for free flying.
We go out and we c turner our temptations by
thy grace of God, and lie down. On the mod*
r w those temptations rally themselves and at¬
tack ns, and by the grace of God we defeat
them again ; but staying all the time in the old
me nipmeut, we have the same old battles to
fi. iu over. forward Why not march, whip making our temptations, raid
and Ih n one
hrough the eucm.'s country, siopp ng dory? not un¬ Do
til we break ranks after the last vi
my it, teeth tin, let us have changing, mine by novelty of corn- by
l at any rate, by oil going on, stale
making advancement, trading oiir quit long
ago" prayc:s about sins w ■ ought to l ave
going o.i toward a h gher state ol Christ¬
ian character, and rontiug. out sina that we
It. ve never thought i f yet. Tlie fact is, if the
e'uirch of li d—if we, as individua'e, made
rapid advancem nt in tlie Christian life, the'e
s ircoiyp d ptsytrs we have been making for
Mi < r "fifteen years, w mid b ■ i s inappropriate
to ns as th - allots, and Uie hats, and the coat*
wo wore ten or fif.t eu years ago. Ob, for a
higher flight in the Christian life, tbc stork and
trio er.n - in their migration teaching ua die
bison.
D ar Lor i, and sltal wo ever live,
At thl.? pour d.viug rate-- cold thee,
Our love mj faint, so to
Amt thine to in so great?
Aj.a’it, I remark that the birds of the air ate
wiser tlmn wo, Iccanse 'hey know when to start,
il yon should go out now and shout, ‘ Stop,
storks ami crams, don't tw in a hurry!’ they
wtttld s»y, "No, we c uuot stop; la-t night we
heard the rearing in the woods north bidding ns
away, am! flip shrill flute of the wind
Iras sounded the r treat. Wo nm-t go. We
must go." ' o they gather tInins. Ives into com¬
panies, and turning not asi.la for storm or
mountain top or shock of mu'ketry, over land
an I sea. straight a? an arrow to the ma k
they with go. sack And of if you and ron.e throw out il this in the morning fields
a c trti
and try to. get them to slop, they are so
far up they Wi uld hardly see it. They are
o i their wav s mth. Yen could not stop
them. Oh, that we wc* as who alout tho best
time to start for God and heaven! We say.
AVfjt until VUI It unilTaonfe ** » llttiolaler in tue season of
mercy. of th.so green leaves
u. v <v»re all dreed up and htve be u scatter¬
ed. \Vait until next year.” After a while we
start and it is too late, and «o perish in ihe
way when God'? wrath is kindled bnt a little.
Th' birds re are, you know exe late, plfottsl and in the cases morning where
l ave staite.1 t. o And
you hare found them dead on the snow.
tit.re are those who have perished half-way be¬
tween tut the world and Chris . mind They waited until
ilie eckntas, when the was gone, or
they were r u the express train going at forty
miles an hottr. and snd" they c me to the bridge and
the "draw was up” they went down. Hew
iong to repent and pray? Twose.onds! ’lwo
records! To do the work of a lifetime and pre
pa hi ;or the vast eternity iu two seconds! I was
leading or an entertainment given in a king's
lout t, an l there were tn'isicrans there, with
elaborate pieces nt music. At r a while Mo¬
zart came aud began to play, aud he had a
blank p ec? ot paper before him, aud the king
fsimilarly looked over h s sh -nUU-r and said,
"What are you playing? 1 see no music before
you." And Mcsart put his baud on his brow,
ss much as to say, “I am improv sing." It
wa? very well, for him, but oh. my w’e friends, we
cannot eilemporiz heaven. Id, will If do not get
prepared in this «ot we tuver lake purl
in the orchestra harmonies of the saved. Oh,
1 U V we w. re as wiac a. the Cray and the tt ork,
H 's£nw fslf < rr^?*^i!re^ P *reL.!
of wm h»ve t™lit 1 pm ohinf fenrt of
£k i^oyour ri fe A Vk£"5rt5K* J
35 Tn
my friends, ^ with the ^nmulrud W lU transgrea- 11
”??? y™ ***** if.' ¥*?
It| the ftTftllOCu€ tumble . over you. On lllAt
r4 0 ^r^.^rov r e m £52^
imo h.v- i^ll lnl^l thve 1 wiri^i^.rlTl.ZmL i!» r wj
LThuTi At^h 1 r^.Tb'Sdmg id™ von ^ ^ Ud ^
you away-it is th.
frwt of •‘on'*'"’. N hfere do you live dow?*‘ Oh.**
lit "want J ^a'h^m mw*^
Y™ f™,n "1 1 Peril ."??', ss * Jt*!A tare
ye,
Wbfr hav e bock “heV-gV.neto? through that '^termtyr L*t ^ou,
uiicd goes sickmm aud
iErough thv felmoe' sup-cmatunl eflort to s»t<
Ufe. mrithroughth. se pray.,, rim, .emeduro
»vai ttng,aad throngh that kiaswh:ch reoatred
IL J^l r torigS
i ’.ear the Iresn.
?l«k. I bear then, break. A bear! 1
A,.other bean! AW, alone! alone! This world
fo riL^h!n ih'e^nd "^7°^ 5s£ fe
Ll f whi -°£wJL h
^.TiJk^f“-nerr, t£ i ^fori ,h,.
.
***?_* 55 ?
.
It ze gone, comfort and everything tell reems gone?
is no to a man not to
cry. The worid comes np and says. “Oh, it ia
coir the body of j?sirkrv«?i<-ne that von bare pat
in the groundr body Bat there is 8haU no comfort in
•hat Thar is prec ous. we nev r
put oar band in that band again, and ahali w«
never **? that sweet face again? Away with
year beanlesaneaa eh world! Bat cocne, Jeans!
snd tell n* that when the lean fed they fail
into Gor’s bottie; that’he dear bodk* of our
1-ved one* m all rise radiant m the reenrraeiion;
Mi l aJi the breakings down here shall be bftsd
np there, and “they dull hunger no
neither thirat no more, neither shall the no’
light on them nor sny beat, for the Lamb,
which is in the mala* of the throne, shall lead
them lo living fountains of water, and God t
ahali wipe all tears f-o«n their eyes.
Ton y bsve noticed tbf when the clraf.
finch or the stork or the crane carta on its mi
graven, it call? all tbens of it« kind m earoe.
t*«x 1 be ue> t? p» ar* toil «t .-turps.; aadwius-le
and carol ini the tong roti-cali. The bird d. a*
rent a-art off aiooe It gatbwaaii at »«■ *»•
Ch that too might be a* wire is the miaxstsor,
to hasten, and that fan misfit gather au sour
fasti! tee sod your frieret* with jonl I won.'
that H mirbt take Semtw! b» tbe ha •'
•ret Ab'sbxHi c,tgo» take base, "and Hi*».*
TOnnrif. mri tska you,
ehtidrm with yore 'Jam* Uwnand all thy
JudMlAP ?.fftPO * ®fla olSvBA dBA® w^MBA I
<h*re are rerim* o< babe tu ri s w ema c w f or si!
ROBERTA, GA., SATURDAY. NOVEMBER 5, 1892.
the crane or the stork, stop not night nor day
nnti! you find the right place for etopping.
To i’ay tl a .Savior ea Is,
Yu wanderers come.
Oh, ye b nighted souk,
Why longer toam?
The spirit calls hia today,
Yield to power.
Oh. grieve him not away,
’lis mere -’a hour.
BILL ARP'S LETTER.
He Descants Dp tlie Subject of Lap
Strifes.
Employes Should Give Darning of
Their Intention to Quit.
Strike for (he gietn graves of your sires!
Strike for your altars anti your fire?!
Strike ti 1 the last arm.fi foe expires.
That is beautiful p etry but it don’t fit any¬
thing nowadays. These iron wo: bars and ear
drivers and printers and telegraph operators Right
have got no such ex-use for striking.
now I am disgusted with the whole business
and my sympathy has alld parted for parts un¬
known. Eight years ago I got had penned up there at
Dennison, in this stole, and to slay.
four days, for not a train w s allowed to run.
I nover "was so miserable and nev-r felt so help¬
less and I Undent done anything to anybody to
provoke snch treatment- Now here it is again,
fhe telegraph operators on the Santa Fa sys¬
tem that cov rs 2.0J0 milesin Texas, hare all
struck and th ■ trains are afraid to run, and 1
don’t know whether I can get anywhere that I
wish toga Tbs n wspapers don’t know—no¬
body knows, for there the is railroad no telegraph tel graph on some and
of the lines except
that is silent now—as silent as death. All you
can hear is the passenger may run, or it may
not run. It ha? no schedule aud the engineer
is afraid to run on time. down and H-may there run is into a
train that is broken no ope¬
rator totell him when the train is. So all that
we travelers cau <io and is nod to go and to tlto depot It aud sit
around and wait lonely hope. is just
awful 1 1 up nd the long and hours in a
little depot with no conch to recline on—no
pillow for tlie weary head—no fire to dry the
feet and tho t ain jnst pouring d >wn. Heard a
poor woman say “It will be the deatli of me, I
reckon, for Tm just up from asp U of typhoid
f ver," going, madam?” I enquired.
•‘Where are vou
"To San Angelo,” Bite said. “My son is sick
there and I wa? trying Vo get to him. Lord
Itav mercy upon us!"
Her ea?e was worse than mino aud I tried to
l> -aim and stroi e. When will this thing stop?
Ali my lire I have sympathized with labor and
poverty but the wav I feel right now I would
put a man in thechringang who would walkout
of his offico on a strike with -nt giving nigger, reasona¬
ble notice. It is as mean a* a mean for
that’s the nay they do. You may hire them
and’they wilt quit when they please. The legis¬
lature ottyht to pass 1 .ws making it a penal of
f nee for th--operator.? on railroads to quit
without givin < no tee-reasonable long notice—say the
i Dirty d iy?—notice enottgh to give com¬
pany a chance to com i Ur thrir demands and
supply aiid their p’ac-s. Laborer? are gettiuginso
lent unreasonable. They Tlie way they wotk treat them¬ the
scabs is outrageous. won't
selves nor allow others to work. That’s niggery
tro. Wire n a cook gets mad and quits she runs
armin'1 w rt warns the it&borhood nnd she raise?
4 row il nAulwr coufc Ukaa her place. One
side is bound and the other site is loose all the
time. Thete strike* aeem to happen at the very
worst time preiblr Here is the Dallas fair
Just be. nn and fbnnsanda of people want to go,
take exhibits of freiglr cattle and farm ti«l products and and the
mddeul>v run’s very train is np
passenger these iu peril if conspired it run* at all. take It looks this
like telegraphers to
particular tim at as to force an increase of
wage*. That is niggery, too. I have known a
cook to quit |ual the day b fore oompaoy I wish
a > t» to torco an incraseof wages- to
goodness there was somebody to take the places
of thi se striking operators and striking printers.
and there are, but they are actually all
afraid to do it Let ua
strike—l“t everybody strike-the preach¬
ers and teachers and bakers aud butchers and
mitten and formers' an I Wood hauler* snd , the .
clerks Eases in the store* and tlie hotel* *tul typewriter* boarding
and tlie aewinR women and
and alt—wtry not? I am m»d—wsttiog here In
the depot for a train—I win wet snd cold and a
thousand mile* from home and I woo'd like to
-trike someb dy right now. who left
X met a man for yewttrday Chicago at Abilene take Uncle Tom'*
thst morning to
cabin to the world's fa'r. Mrs. Harrir t Beecher
Stowe got Ihe found*t ion for her exaggerated where
down At J Nachidoch ~ in LonifUzi*,
gb#TWUd fcr while. Uncle Tom a»d
*' * °» bin w «r® » fact, but nearly all the real waa
f , noy Uncle Tom'* master site calls Simon
Sa^tT™ tld^'^rdSTm 1
S^Tkut^atymld When not sell he it to them. bis last Hi
had no love for them- wss on
I___I U_ J- J.: . nmntim* npvjf tn m 1 ] il
^ wteTne: h °al“.‘bom
fee
Chopins and the neighborhood, has le**ed tha
for two year* and his given bond andse
OTrt ‘-V ‘hat he will return it log for log and
He ^ gotfl ^‘ g to frxrGre § p*ce for it and enclose it
,ri,b » hi f,mc * * ad *‘ lTOrt, » 8 11 lihvraUy and
‘ barge *0 cents for a.tmission. He has the moat
ttndonbted creien-ials as to iu identity-ere
f.^/Te 0 ^"ZS flTdJ* thl
o wi So ii ot cSSS W(ir «
fr m
|~* irector , of fUr . H e know, what
Ik- i? s' ont He wiU hare a carload ot eottou
botjajhat.grow^oond^th. eobte snd ha h^
JSLt inm riisni
WwsyTo get’^L^thi jr m^2*;
mtovssst there snd them for those fanat
bones tip act up
%»???£? r«^ v ^ed-r i,k ii.“"d,ir ,b “^ t The w ^ JmmS pr h^
Wet!, I hope be wiU make a grand aocoeaa.
that the seven vaukee spin stole from for—i* Big
Shautv daring the w»r and got hung to
be taken np there and par on exhibition for pay
anl U.e exhibitor is gore; to sell nuts sad bolts
fr boys—ire m it by dav aud repiare them by night Go
j, are betting oni ! It remind* me
0 f so old re bel in Atlanta who keepa relict ot
the war in fa s show can*. Too will are two
mmoiv-l alk fastened and fl>ttened into each
other, •"‘Th'wetwo point to point, minute-balls and a card near in mri by which air at
met
the l title of Keren saw mountain—one fired
fy m a rebel gun and the other from a federal
nm—price f5 Every week or so* northern
relic bnnter would cone ahsgaaiaee it and
but il and the aid man would step on* in tha
bait vard snd fix two more and pot them in
u * abowraae for the i ext victim.
I have wen the capiiol a: Austin. It i* ire
, W! ^agniftreot. bnt if Georgia's should eapitoi have
- tK1 f* amllion. this one not
,? nore than twror as mnob fr it i* i* no
M!> . a* fine, or twice s, large. Next I go
« Antonio tal the Alamo and then fir
-"HomwBweet Homa ’ Bai
ro
Atlanta Conatitatlore
• wearing hi*
*?cra«ss-Th.t mart Jones never
Idr* h» tore: V just travel? on his
if
Scraggy* -I wondered whit made
1 * tur “ •• irregular.—{Puck.
Life and Lore.
Ah, Love! tbou art the azure sky,
And Life a summer cloud.
Which blends With tbee lu rapture,
Within thy lorelight bowed.
And Life is like the ripples
Which spread across the lake;
Love is the depth beneath them
O’er which the ripples break.
Love is one long mellow breeze
On which light Life doth float—
Love—ah, yes, it is the oar,
And Life, it is the boat.
— [Boston Transcript.
IN SPITE OF HIMSELF.
BY HELEN FORREST GRAVES.
“Mattie I MaUto’ did you take that
huckleberry pie out of the oven?
“Yea, Aunt Ann.”
“And the cup custards—you didn’t
forget the cup custards?”
“They’re all right, Aunt Ann.”
“Matty!” iu an accent one degree
shriller than usual.
“Yes! What is it?”
“There’s a tramp coming up the
back garden path. Send him about
his business.”
“Yes, Annt Ann.”
Matty Vernor went valiantly to the
back door, prepared to do battle,
glancing this way and that as she did
so, to make sure that tbero was plenty
of boiling water on the stove, arid that
the broom was handy, in case' of
need.
“Weil,” said Matty to herself, eye¬
ing the mass of rags on the doorstep,
“you are a tramp. Nobody could
possibly mistake you for anything
else. What do you want?” she added
aloud.
“Conld yon spare me an old shirt,
young lady? or a sail ot clothe*? I’m
la great noed—"
“That’s what you all aayl” crisply
interrupted Matty. “I'm sure I don’t
kuow where you get all your rag*
and tatters from. “Yotir’e Just from
an hospital, I suppose. That’s the
next chapter.”
j Bnt eveu as she spoke her woman¬
ly heart melted within her at the sight
of the tired, pale faoe, the wretched
garb. ' .
“No," said he, with a sigh, “I’m
not from the hospital,
He was turning away, when she
recalled him.
“Wait a minute,” said she. “I’ll
go see what I can find.”
Bolting the door unceremoniously
in his face, she weut to a store-room
opening out of the unused best par
.
* or -
“I don’t care!” said Matty, arguing
with herself with a certain fierce im
patience. “Uncle Job s things have
r ...
lain here, of no use lo anybody, since
k. it«d That poor fellow may as
well have them, I suppose.”
She came back presently with a
compact little buadlo under Iter arm.
“There,” said she. flinging it out of
the window, “take it and begone!
For,” sho added to herself, “if Aunt
Ann should find ont I’d been giving
away any of Uncle Job’* old traps—
Why, goodness me! he'* eateu np the
huckleberry pie aud the three cup cus¬
tards that I left to eool on the buttery
window-ledge! Here, give me back
those clothes I You shan’t have so
much as a rag I You don’t deserve
them!”
She had unbolted the door as she
•poke, and, with a quick, light move
incut, caught up the bundle before tbe
•tauger could possess himself of it.
“I’m very sorry," be said, peni¬
tently, “but l was desperately hungry
aud I didn’t atop to consider.”
“Didn’t stop to consider?" indig¬
nantly repeated Matty. “No, I
should think not. You aro a thief!
Do you hear that? Not only a vaga¬
bond, but a thief I Aud I should think
a great ablc-bodiid scamp like you
would be ashamed to go begging aud
•tealiug around tbe country. There!’’
Thus 'eiminaiing her lecture with a
very expressive outburst, Matty once
more shut the door in the poor, tired
faoe, and resumed her occupation of
ironing out Aunt Ann’s Sunday laoe
cap. Matty!” called tbe old
“Matty! ont
woman from above stairs, where she
was turning over tbe contents of a big
cedarwoed chest.
“Yes, Aunt Aun!”
••Did you tend tbe fellow pock¬
ing?”
“Yes, I did.”
“That** right — that’s right!”
chuckled Annt Ana. “These stroll¬
ing beggars ar* getting to be a perfect
nuisance hereabouts.”
But a* Matty fluted the border* of
lace with n quick, efficient hand,
thinking tbe while whet tbe should do
replace tbe miesing pin in time for
Aunt Ann’s dinner, a softer mood
came over her.
•'Poor wretchT the murmured to
herself. “Perk*pa he was hungry*
He eerUinlv did look nale and tired.
and bis rags were dreadfnL I wish I
hadn’t snatched those elothes back. It
wasn’t real nice and ladylike of me,
now I come to think of it I wish—”
All of a sudden, Matty Vernor made
up her mind aa she hung Aunt An i’s
lace cap on the nail by the window.
She set her rosy lip* together; her
eyes glistening determination.
Down through the golden gleam of
the ripening rye field went a little
curving path close to the stone wall,
crossing the brook on a narrow plank*
and often losing iteelf in a wooded
copse, joined the main road close to a
peacefnl, willow-shaded graveyard.
Here ten mitmtea afterward, Matty
Vernor came upon the tired tramp
sit'iug on the stone walL
“Ob, here you are!” said she. “I
thought I should overtake you if I
look the short-cut. I’ve brought yon
a tiu of coffee and some sandwiches
and a piece of home-baked ginger,
bread. I’m sorry 1 spoke so cross to
you; but, you see, I was vexed to see
the diuuer pie gone, and the enpous
iards, too. And here are the clothe*.
Fm afraid you need them very much.
“Thank you,” s&id the man, deject¬
edly. “You see, I haven’t always—
“Oh, never mind all that,” Inter¬
rupted Maitv, tmperionaly. “I know
about ‘having seen better day*,’ and
that aort of lAng. But yon really
ohghtto be a little more particular
abdbt Jhe* truth,”
, Unconsciously Matty had fallen
into the air that ahq adopted wbeu she
was Jiarauguing her Sunday-school
class. Her bright eyps sparkled; she
emphaiifod eacli pol&t by tapping her
foot on the giouud and lifting her
berry-stained forefinger in the air.
“Yes, but-” .
“Yon should gif to work,” said the
girl. “You can’t expect Always to
tramp about the couutry. It will end,
sooner or latdt, in the county jail, and
you are too smart-looking a man to
bring np like that.”
Tlie man, eating his bread ami meat
and drinking hia coffee, listened meek¬
ly until she stopped for sheer lack of
breath.
“Ye*," said he, with a sigh. “Bnt,
yon see, I’m not a tramp. Oh, I
know appearance* are .against me I"
as Matty’s gtanee reverted, t.(
wretched tatters; “but I really am
not a tramp You tee—”
The sound of approaching wagou
wheels startled the girl.
“Ob, I dare say 1” said she. “Bnt
I really can't stay any louger talking.
I mint get back. Here’s a quarter
for you. Miud you don’t spond it for
beer."
And flinging the coin towards him
—it missed its aim and rolled to the
foot of old Deacon Jobler’s grave¬
stone. whonce the man rescued it with
prompt dispatch—she vanished back
into the wood-path and was seen no
more.
Half an hour later, Squire Somer¬
set, examining a pile of law papers in
Ids offico, was startled by the suddeu
appearance of a tall figure in his door
way.
“Nothing for you, my man—go
along!” said be curtly, without look
ing up.
“That’s always the way!" sighed a
resigned voice, “It’a 'Move ou 1’
wherever 1 go. But I’ve ‘mover! on’
just about far enough, old man!”
And be perched himself composedly
on the office desk.
The squire stared.
“The voice,” said he, “is the voice
of Frank Atherton, and the counte¬
nance also beareth witness thereto!
Bnt tbe faded corduroy* aud the vel¬
veteen coat are the coat and cordnroys
of old Job Vernor, who died two
years ago. Old fellow” (claspiug
him cjrdiallv by both hands) “you’re
welcome! Where on earth did yon
drop from? For—not to disguise the
truth—I honestly did take you for a
tramp!”
••I meant to give you a surprise,”
said Mr. Atherton, still in the Mine ac¬
cent of melancholy composure. “And
I’ve every reason to think that I have
succeeded. I left Wyndale to walk
into Glea’a Falla, an 1 a mile or so be¬
low here the river meandering throngh
the woods looked so enticing that I
ventured on a bath, just at sonrise.
Unfortunately, however. I was not
the earliest bird going. Some deep
dyed villain, while I was disporting
myself in tbe load ee U stole my
clothes leaving a mas* of dirt t rags
behind. Then I was a tramp in spite
of myself, and such a lecture I got
from a pretty maiden at a farmhouse
oa the road ■ However, she gave me
something to ent, between her piece*
of ndviee. also this wardrobe, and
when the express delivers ray trank, I
shall be nil right—Richard will be
hi in setf again P
“8be gnve yon those clothes?”
“She did.”
“Thee,” said Squire Somerse’, si%p
via* the table until the ter* 1 does.
ment« flew In *11 directions over the
floor' “you've been lectured by Matty
Vernor, the prettiest girl in town—
old Job's niece, »nd the owner of *
pair of superb black eyes and the best
farm iu Warren County!”
‘•Yes.” monrnfuliy acceded Ather¬
ton. “She told me that I ongbt to go
to work, and then threatened me with
the county jail, and finally—bless her
dear little heart!—ended up by giving
me—this!"
He produced from tlie pocket of
Uncle Job Vernor’s trowsers a silver
quarter.
The squire grinned broadly.
“Here comes the express delivery
now with your box,'’ said he. “And
a good thing for yon, Atherton, for
my wife is going to have a tennis par- 1
ty here this afternoon, and Matty
Vernor is the champion player. Y'ou
can handle a racquet, can’t you, old
man?"’
“Batliei,” said Mr. Athertoo.
Many Vernor catne to the tenuia
party in pale pink albatross cloth, cut
after a semi-masculine fashion that
eras eminently calculated to drive any
one mail.
But when Mrs. Somerset presented
her to Mr. Atherton from New York,
she changed color and started a little.
"‘Yea,” said Mr. Atherton, in Ids
gentle, mournful way, “you’re right.
It’* the same person. Huckleberry
pie, you know—cup custards."
“But—" hesitated Matty, in a be¬
wildered manner. m
“You see, you wouldu’t allow m«
to explain,” reasoned be. “Yon were
determined I should be a tramp. I
couldn’t get any innings then, but
now’s my time. P ease may 1 make
an unprejudiced statement?"’
Matty listened to his explanation,
coloring like a rose.
She would like to have run away,
but she had not sufficient moral coor*
age to do so.
“And I gave you Uncle Job's old
clothes,” said she wringing her hand*
in despair.
“You n-ver can know how accept¬
able they were,” avowed Atherton.
“And some bread-aud-beef saud
wichos!”
“Ambrosia and nectar couldn't have
j tasted better. And the cup-custards—
don’t forget the cup-custards and the
huckleberry-pie. 1 was so imlcscrib
ahlv hungry. Miss ' ernor.
“And the quarter of a dollar—my
last quarter! You'D give me hack
that quarter, Mr. Atherton?” said
Matty, with a spice of her old mis¬
chief.
*^»ever!” said Atherton. “I’ll part
with that silver coin only with my
life.”
Matty dropped iter head.
“How i did lecture you!” said she.
“How insulcut 1 must have ap?
peered !”
“Not ill the least,” said Atherton.
‘■Yonr advice was exactly suited to
the occasion, if outy I had been a
tramp. But 1 wasn’t.”
“We are waiting to piay» Matty!”
cried Mrs. Somerset.
“Come on, Atherton!” bawled his
host. “Do you meaii to keep us wait¬
ing all day?”
••Please,” whispered Matty, catch¬
ing up her racquet, ••will you forgive
me?”
“A thousand tint's over!’’ Atherton
answered.
“George,’" said Mrs. Somerset that
nigut, when Matty Vernor was gone
aud Atherton had bidden them good
night, “our guest and dear little
Matty seemed very much taken with
each other, lie’s rich, and ought to
have a wife, and Matty is such a
darling! O ily suppose they should
fall in love!”
“I wonder,” said Mr. Somerset,
solemnly, “if the woman ever wa*
born who wasn’t a thorough-goiog
matchmaker.—[Saturday Night."
The Lightest Metal.
“Some people tecui to think that
aluminum is tire lightest metal in the
world.” said a gentleman who deal*
in all the fanev articles now made of
that commodity, “but that is a mis¬
take. The specific weight of magne¬
sium is only one-third of that of alu¬
minum, and i* even more bard and
durable. It is not as u-cfttl, boweven
as it catches fire very easily, even nt
tbe open hearth, it is not destined to
crowd the popularity of aluminum,
although up to a abort time ago it waa
even the cheaper of the two.”—[Clo
einnati Commercial.
TV Father ImpreTiag.
Mother—Have yen heard how Mr.
Speaker it this morningP
Small Son—Oa. he’s all right He’s
getting well fast.”
“Who told you?* .
“No one.”
“Then how do yon know?”
“Hie little boys has began to bear
wea their mot tier calls.”—[Good
New*
VOL. I. MO. !4.
Te>Momw*
When Esther Time,
jfow old snd gray,
Wss !fl hi* prime. * i
I've oft' heard say.
His one quest was to-morrow.
With Eve be talked
The matter o’er,
With Adam walked,
His spirit sore—
His search was one of sorrow.
From Jordan's tide
To far Cathay;
By Tiber’s side
In Cesar’s day,
Ereah trouble he would borrow;
For where he went,
Twsa all in vain,
Part time was spent,
To-day was plain—
But where, where was to-morrow*
And so we see
Him gray and old.
ABd so he'll be
Through rear# unfoM,
There's CO *»*- for his sorrow.
Go where be may
He’ll simply And
Just plabi to-day.
Which lags behind
That false mirage—to-morrow.
-[B. L. Hendrick, in Youth's Companum
HUMOROUS.
Driven to drink—Artesian wells.
It can be said of the feminine
fashion of auspenders that it is hold¬
ing up.
“I think that young man’s conduct
simply shocking.” “That’s all right;
It’s professional with him. He’s an
alectriclau.”
She—Do you love mo for myself
alone? H Yes, and when we’re
married I don’t want any of your
family thrown in.
Johnny—What did your mother
whip you for, Jimmy? Jimmy—Eatln’
green fruit. Johnny—Who gave ye
away? Jimmy—The doctor.
The gentleman so often mentioned
in novels, who riveted people with Llfi
g*Mt has now obtained permanent
employment at a boiler manufactory.
Said the lecturer: “The road* up
theae mountains are loo steep and
rocky for even a donkey to climb;
therefore I did not attempt the as¬
cent
Yah*ley—Do they set pretty appe¬
tizing meals at your house, Reddy?
Reddy—Appetizing? Oh, yes. A fel- -
low gets up hnpgrior tbsn when he sat
down. •
Miranda (sobbing)—It is better in ^
every way that we should part, dear
Orlando- Orlando (in a choked voice)
—Only in one way, dearest. Miran¬
da—Ye*, beloved? Orlando (over
come with emotiou)—it is ehe^pgt
darling.
“Did you go on that trout liahing
excursion?’ “I did.” “D.dtcfefeAA
withtt.es?” “Fish with flies? Yea,
_
we fished with them, camped with
them, dined with them, slept with
them— why, man, tlioy almost ate us
alive!"
“Your husband,” aaid the caller,
sympathetically, “was a man of ex¬
cellent qualities.” ••Yes," sighed the
widow, “he was a good man. Every¬
body says so. I wasn’t much ac*
quainted with him myself. lie be¬
longed to six clubs and as mauy
lodges.”
Higher Connell of Labor.
A British consular report give* an
account of Hie new “Higher Couueil
of Labor” which has come into exist¬
ence in Belgium. The object of the
new body is to form a permanent
centre for tbe local conucilg of indus¬
try and labor, and to act as tbe inter¬
mediary between tlictn and tbe Gov¬
ernment; it will also advise tlie au¬
thorities iu regard to labor legl-latiou
and labor qne-tious generally. It is
composed of 4B members, 16 rcpn>
seoting employers and 16 workmen,
while tbe remaining 16 are selected
for special knowledge of economic
questions, all being, in tiro first in¬
stance, nominated by the Crown.
They are appointed for four years,
after which time it is hoped that the
organization of tbe local labor eounri
cils will have improved so as flg
capable of electing the represents!
of the employers aud workmen,
member* during session* are tcBB
ceive (1 TO a dsy anti ttave.ingBS
peaces. The firat subject? for JtsKa
sion are tbe application of the
1889, regulating tbe work of soraS
and children, apprenticeahipa, teci.ni-’
cal education, insurance again** acci-j
deal*, etc. The name* ot
n.e;ti'-' r « hare '
- JM
M
A
hia
the It
source
