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About The Crawford County correspondent. (Roberta, Ga.) 1892-1892 | View Entire Issue (Nov. 5, 1892)
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
