Newspaper Page Text
W. D. B CHAMBER?, Proprietor.
VOL. X.
THE 01' HAND SLED.
How that winter is a-comin’ with the
sleigh bells an’ the snow,
I am kind o’ sort o’ minding of the days
long ago,
When we uster go a-skatin’ an’ a-takin’
moonlight rides.
With the sweet and rosy damsels snuggled
warmly at our sides;
Hut of all the sports in winter that I wor
shiped as a boy,
An’ the one that gave a thrillin’ an’ hair
raisin’ sort o’ joy,
An’ would cause my ears to tingle an’ my
cheeks git rosy-red,
Was a-coastin’ down the holler on my
01’
Hand
Sled!
How we always uster hanker for an early
fall o’ snow,
An’ we didn’t care a copper if the winter
winds did blow,
For, when snueglcd ’ncatli the blankets
’twas no trouble to keep warm,
An’ be billed to pleasant dream-land by
the howlin’ of the storm:
How the trees would snap an’ crackle, an’
the old farmhouse would creak,
An’ the snow drift to the winders when
the blizzard's voice would shriek!
But the first thing in the mornin’ when
we’d gotten out o’ bed.
Wc would hustle for the holler with that
01’
Hand
Sled!
llow the boys an’ girls would gather at
the top o' Slocum’s Hill.
Jest bevoud the ol’ red school house, near
McGuffy’s cider mill:
Every eye would be a-sparkle, every ruddy
cheek aglow.
With the fascinatin’ pleasure that we
there would undergo;
When we’d get our pretty damsels an
chored safely at our side,
Every female heart a flutter at the pros
pects of the ride,
Then, with anxious apprehension on our
features overspread,
Wc would go a-scootin’ downward on our
or
Hand
Sled!
Oh, the memories of boyhood, an’ the ol’
familiar days, •
That will come a-crowdin’ forward in a
sort o' misty haze!
Bringing up the pleasant features of the
friends we uster know,
In the dim an’ distant fancies of the happy
long ago.
Oh, the pleasant recollections that will
crowd a feller’s mind.
Of the ol'-time sports an’ pleasures that
our manhood’s left behind!
An’ we sometimes sigh an’ hanker for the
days that long have fled,
Since we took that farewell journey on the
01’
Hand
Sled!
—Los Angeles Times.
Tubb’s financial Waterloo
JLEWELLYN TUBR was six
feet tall, built like a key
stone, handsome as Apollo
* and dressed like a tailor’s
model. Among the vealy of his own
sex he w.as the glass of fashion and
the mold of form; among women he
ranked as a grand marshal of dress
parade. He was a necessity at smart
scirees, for he led the german with a
lithe grace and aplomb impossible to
those who are not built and trained
for that high achievement. He had a
front that had borne him out of many
a hole. He had no profession hut
“style,” and just enough brains to
dodge creditors Indefinitely, and get
his accounts “mixed” with everybody
who had financial dealings with him.
But after nearly six years, during
which his debts grew in Inverse ratio
to his business reputation, he woke
up one morning with a dim but insist
ent realization that he was nearing the
end of his rope. In a mad effort to
induce the payment of his rent Tubb’s
landlord had shut off the steam and
hot water. His last valet was loiter
ing in the street, lowering at Tubb's
window. He.examined his mall—ail
hills; not a single pink note nor a po
lite invitation. So he laved his hand
some face with cold water and per
fume and began to think as vigorously
as a rabbit that has heard the dog.
After breakfast he picked up his
paper, lighted a cigarette and reclined.
His eye fastened on a brief dispatch
from Albany, which read:
“Clifford A. Rogers, the millionaire
lumber factor, formerly of Michigan,
died hero to-night. • • * He leaves
an enormous fortune and his young
wife * • * charming * * * no
children * * * gi, e is devoted to
philanthropy * *
Tubb dropped the paper, grabbed it
again, reached for a scissors, clipped
the Albany dispatch and with unaccus
tomed fervor and vulgarity murmured:
-Me to Albany! Me for the widow.”
In half an hour, faultlessly dressed,
gloved, groomed and debonnair, he
sauntered into an office in the Gascon
ade Building upon the door of which
was the legend:
Huff & Peak, Bankers.”
**r. Peak was glad to see Mr. Tubb,
hut became a bit ferrety when the lat
ter unfolded his business. He urged
his plan to marry the Albany widow
and his need of financial help for the
campaign; claimed old acquaintance
t'lth the Rogers family and, with con
scious plausibility, predicted that he
could win and marry the prize “prob
ably within six months, certainly with
in a year.”
“How much will you need?” said
Huff, twiddling'his pencil.
"1 should think three thousand would
see me through,” yawned J. Llewellyn
Tubb with assuring sang-froid.
But the “hanker” whs finicky. He
tvoulcl have to .“look up” the lady’s
commercial rating, estimated wealth,
actual existence. He would R*t Mr.
Huff know; the sum was large, no col
lateral. etc., etc., but he would give his
answer, say in a fortnight.
Meanwhile Tubb actually got busy.
He wrote many letters to Albany, seat
for its newspapers and was pretty well
posted about Mrs. Rogers when Huff
summoned him to hear the answer.
It was not unfavorable. Tubb feigned
gunul while the money lender read off
DADE COUNTY SENTINEL.
the list cf the widow’s big estate, bui
every word was a trumpet note ol
triumph forestalled. Huff estimated
the estate at something like SSOO.OOO
after the Incumbrances had been al
lowed, mostly stocks, bonds and real
csta te.
“'Ye’ll take a chance on the scheme,
Mr. Tubb,” said the Shylock, “but, as
it’s an unusual risk, you’ll have to ex
pect to pay a rather considerable in
terest. If you pay in six mouths three
thousand will cost you five hundred
dollars; say, at the rate of thirty-three
and a third per cent, a year, but mind,”
the broker was insisting now, “mind
you, if you fail to pay it all in six
months you must renew t#io loan with
note signed by your wife and yourself
Jointly. If you do that we’ll be glad
to renew indefinitely.”
This proposition ruffled the calm
nerve of Tubb, and he made a feeble
show of indignation, but Huff admit
ted airily that for his part he would
be just as well satisfied If the deal was
not made; It was most unusual, very
hazardous at best and quite “out of our
line.”
“But,” he continued, “I’ve gone so
far as to get the cash ready, the note
is filled out and if you want to d<o busi
ness now, all right. If uof,” and he
picked up the slip of paper which Tubb
could turn into S3OOO so readily and
made a motiqn as to tear it, “if not,
I’ll just tear this up and ”
Tubb reached for a pen, tapped it
softly against his left glove and—
signed. After listening wearily to a
lot of instructions about “advising the
office from week to wpek” and “ex
cuse us if we take the liberty of pry
ing a little into yonr lovemaking,"
Tubb walked out with sixty fifty-dollar
bills nestling against his mauve waist
coat. In ten days he checked three
trunks for Albany and disappeared
from his haunts like an cn int cava
lier. Four months later II iff got a
telegram, “Engagement made. Wed
ding private. All lovely but Clara.”
It was signed “Tubb,” but it was quite
unnecessary, for the banker had made
a few secret trips to Albany, and hav
ing seen Clara doubted not that his
client would win.
It lacked but a day of the six months
when .T. Llewellyn Tubb and bride ar
rived at the Hotel Detrop, honeymoon
ers en tour, with enough baggage to
equip a comic opera troupe. The bell
boys “allowed” that Mrs. J. Llewellyn
was “a sight,” but her husband show
ered money around until there was
quite a flurry iu the hotel, and Huff,
Banker Huff, who hovered in the corri
dors like a coyote waiting for night,
sneered at the extravagance of the"
client whom he dogged. Ho cornered
Tubb in a dark hallway, told him that
the note would be due in twenty-four
hours, and asked whether the Tubbs
“wanted to pay up or renew.”
“I’ll renew, of course,” said Tubb
haughtily, “our financial affairs are not
yet arranged. I’ll sign another no ”
“Yes, and remember she must sign,
too.” Huff was excited. “Don’t for
get that. Yoitr wife must get on your
paper this time, it ain’t worth ad ”
“All right, all right; good day. I’m
very busy to-day,” and Tubb strode
majestically away.
At 10 o’clock the next morning Huff
sent up liis card to the Tubb suite. J.
Llewellyn summoned him. and in a
trice the banker was bowing before
Clara. Tubb was just rising from the
little secretaire with the new note in
liis hand; Huff bowed again and
grinned, scanning the renewal. It was
yet wet, as to the signatures, but Tubb
reached for a blotter.
“I had one of our own blanks made
out,” said Huff, taking out his pocket
book.
“Ob. I was afraid you wouldn’t, Mr.
Huff,” said the. clieut, taking the old
note when the banker ha! written
’•paid” across It. “I was afraid you’d
delay us. We’re just going out for a
drive.”
He tore the old note up, and bowed
the Shylock toward the door. Huff
folded up his doubly signed promise to
pay, beamed upon the fat and squabby
Clara, and was gone. The next day
the Tubbs left for Denver, and for
many moons Huff and Peak heard not
from them. When the note came due
at last it was in Albany where J.
Llewellyn Tubb and his bride had set
tled down to the enjoyment of their
vast wealth.
Huff was in his office when a tele
gram was handed in. He tore it open
and read:
“Mrs. Tubb says her signature is a
forgery. Have protested note. Wire
instructions,”
And Huff replied: ,
“Arrest Tubb unless they pay to
night. Threaten exposure.”
And the next day’s newspapers Lad
scare heads about “A Husband’s
Crime,” “Scandal in High Life” and
other fearful and elaborate accounts
about hpw Clara had repudiated J.
Llewellyn and his dark deeds, and had
announced to the police and the public
that' “ns soon as Tubb was in Sing
Sing she would divorce him and try to
live down the folly of a lonely widow’s
girlish trust in a wretch.”
“Huff,” growled Peak to his partner,
“you’re a chump.”
“I know it,” mburned the banker,
“hut it was a great scheme. Tubb was
on the square, but he is the limit as a
prize ass. I always hated to do busi
ness with square people, anyhow.”—
John H: Rafterjv hr the, Chicago Rec
ord-Herald.
Canse bf Consumption.
Statistics collecle'd in Germany
showed that more than fifty per cent,
of the cases of consumption could be
traced to the habitual breathing of
dust tainted with injurious substances.
Rome is to be electrically lighted
with power from the Marmore Falls,
seventy miles distant.
TRENTON. GA. FRIDAY. FEBRUARY 28.1902.
BILL ARP’S LETTER
Bartow Man Pay-; Loving Tribute
to Army Comrade “O.d Hock "
A LOYAL AND PATRIOTIC ENGLISHMAN
An Unintentional Error Corrected.
William Suggests Wholesome
Becks Suitable For Young
People to Read,
Of course—of course it was Tom
Moore. How came I to say Burns
wrote that pretty ballad beginning,
"And I know by the smoke that so
gracefully curled?” I knew better and
the editor should have corrected it, for
he knew better, too. What is an editor
for if he does not correct a “lapsus
pennae” like that? But I am glad I
made the mistake, for it has brought
me three letters and a postal kindly
correcting me, and proves that the
people who read the old-time authors
are not all dead. The last line of that
verse always reminds me of a good old
man, a comrade, Captain John Hock
enhull, an Englishman by birth, but a
Georgia rebel who used to recite peo
try for us around the camp fl.tes in
1862 and 1863. We called him “Old
Hock” and everybody loved him for
he was a cockney and dropped the h’s
where he should not, and vice versa.
There is always a charm in broken
English and to murder the king’s Eng
lish Is no great offense. “Old Hock”
knew a good deal of Tom Moore and
Burns and Hoed and Campbell and it
was a treat to hear him say:
’The >art that is ’umble might ’ope
for it ’ere.”
He knew that other sweet ballad of
Annie Crawford:
"Kathleen Mavourneen, the gray dawn
is breaking,
The horn of the hunter Is heard on
the hill.”
And he always said “The ’orn of the
’unter Is ’eard on the ’ill.” The “Ex
ile of Erin,” which he called the “Hex
ile of Herln,” was another of his fa
vorites. He learned these poems from
his sweetheart while he was an ap
prentice in London —an orphan boy
bound for seven years to a hard mas
ter, a brewer, and his daily service
was to carry the jars of malt from the
cellar up a flight of stone steps to the
floor above. He never had a kind
word from his master, and one day
he tripped and broke a jar and was
bitterly abused for it, and told that
he had forfeited the 20 pounds that he
was to get when his term was out. He
was then 18 and had yet three years
to toil at his hard, monotonous work.
That night he poured out his heart to
the girl he loved and declared he would
run away and go to America on the
first sail vessel that left the port. That
he would make some money here and
send it to her if she would promise to
come to him. and then they would
marry and be so happy—and she prom
ised. Within a week the opportunity
came. He told one of the sailors his
sad story and the sailor told the mate,
and they took him aboard by night
and hid him down in the hold of the
vessel until the good ship had weighed
anchor and was far out to sea. “Old
Hock” told It all to us one cold night
at Manassas and how ead and sweet
was his last kiss, his last embrace, his
last good bye. He choked up sometimes
and the tears glistened in his eyes,
bqt it was a pretty story, and Dickens
could have built upon it and made a
tender romance. This was away back
in the forties when our state was
building the Western and Atlantic rail
road and wanted laborers and had sent
a man to New York to hire immi
grants as they landed at Castle Gar
den. "Old Hock” did not have to wait
a day. but was hired and shipped to
Atlanta and from there to Allatoona,
where he did his first work. He said
he did not feel safe upon the ocean j
voyage or in New York harbor, for he j
feared he might in some way be |
caught as a fugitive and taken back,
but when he got to Allatoona and saw
the woods all around him and the high
hills and deep ravines and mingled
with good, kind-hearted men and wo- j
men, he felt safe and free. “I never |
knew w’t freedom was before and you
Hamericans ’av no idea w’at a bless
ing it is. The good woman w’ere I
boarded and her daughter were so kind
and gentle to me that I would ’av
. ’ugged them if I dared, but I thought
all of the time of the girl I had left
behind me, and It nerved me to good
’onest work and the contractor soon
raised my wages, and in six months 1
’ad a ’undred dollars in bank and got
a good man to send it to another good
man in New York, and he found the
same captain I came hover with and
he took It to my sweetheart, and while
I was every day looking for a letter,
she took me by surprise one morning
and brought the letter with her, and
we just fell in to heach hother’s harms
like-like-like-major, hexcuse me now,
I must go and look hafter my ’oss.”
He had named his fine mare Emma,
1 so that he could call her Hemma, 1
reckon. But we made him finish the
story afterwards and tell how one good
friend volunteered to go after the li
cense, and another after the preacher,
and his landlady and her daughter
baked some cake snd got up a hextra
1 supper and they were married that
night at her ’ouse, and all he remem
btrs about what the preacher said
OfQoial Organ of Dado COunty l^
was “Whom God ath joined together,
let no man put hasunder.” “Old Hock”
was a patriot, a good, honest and true
man. His neighbors at his home in
Dawson county all loved and honored
him, and there was not a man In his
regiment (the Eleventh Georgia) more
beloved by the men that he fed, for he
was chosen their commissary early in
the war, and you know It is so natural
to love those who feed you well. When
rations were short he would travel all
night to secure supplies, and the boys
knew that if "Old Hock” couldn’t get
what they wanted nob< dy could. But
in course of time the old man got sick
and wanted to go home. Other officers
had got furloughs, but he had never
asked for one. He went to bed and
sent for me and told |ne he was sick
and if he didn’t get a furlough he be
lieved he would get sicker and
die away from ’ome. 1 suspected that
lie was homesick, but he looked sick
and I sent up his application. The ar
my had been for some day* sweltering
in the hot summer’s sfcn not far from
Richmond. The application was re
ferred to headquarters at Richmond,
aud I took it iu to the proper official,
who glanced at it and said; “Impor
tant movements are dally expected,
and all furloughs to go home are strict
ly prohibited. The beat I can do is
to send the captain to Farmvllie for
thirty days.” There was an army hos
pital at Farmville, which was only 30
miles south of Richmond, where sick
officers were sent to rest and be treat
ed for their ailments.- And so he in
dorsed upon it Farmville, and in the
next blank said thirty .days. Suddenly
a thought struck me that could not
resist. I knew that ’’old Hock’s” post
office In Georgia was named Farmville.
I stepped Into a hotel and took a pen
and quickly added “Ga.” to the word.
I knew that this was .risky and ras
cally, but told him lo get ready to
leave next morning. How quickly he
brightened up and how thankful he
was to me. He went home on that
pass and came back in due time, re
newed and recovered. He said the
conductor looked ’ard at him and at
the pass, but let him go by the hos
pital and then he felt safe. I knew
if I had told him what I had done he
couldn’t face the music and tell a lie.
After his people sent him to
the k##!imture and my people sent me
there,too, and we rejoiced to get to
gether again every night and rehearse
the soul-stirring times that we had in
old Virginia.
From time to tiijje I receive good,
earnest letters from tne young folks —
girls and bo-ys—asking what books to
read and where to get them. One
came today from a young miss who is
teaching a country school. She says
she cannot go to college, for she Is too
poor, but manages to save a little mon
ey and wants to know what books to
buy to Improve her mind.' Well, if I
was too poor to buy some good ency
clopedia, I would buy a Shakespeare,
Macaulay, Ooldsmith, Tom Moore,
Burns, Pope Gray, Cowper, Campbell,
Tom Hood, CaldridgO, Wordsworth and
some of Scott’s novels such as “Ivan
hoe," "Kenilworth” and “Anne of
Guernstene.” Buy some of Dickens’
works, as “Dombey and Sen” and “Da
vid CoDDerfleld.” Then there Is ‘jfohn
Halifax,” by Mrs. Muioeh, and# "Ten
Thousand a Year,” by
“The Vicar of Wakefield”
of the hermit. Of cour jUib-^i# 7 ' n au
thors should not be as
some of Irving’s -sfoKS and Haw
thorne and and Bryant.
Buy Halleek for -his "Marco Bozarls”
If nothing else. There are tvro text
books by Miss Rutherford, of Athene,
Ga., the cultured principal of Lucy
Cobb Institute, that should be in ev
ery respectable household. One is
English authors and the other Is Amer
ican authors. Both together make a
good library and are always ready for
reference. I had rather give up any
two other books than those. "The
Fisherman’s Prayer,” by Jean Ingelow,
In the first named, Is worth twice the.
cost of the book. Now most of thes#
books can be bought nicely bound at
prices from 60 cents to sl. But there
are hundreds of good books by such
authors as Mrs. Austin and Charlotte
Bronte and Mrs. Hermans, Mrs. SI
gourney and others. I name only a
few to fit the slender purses of our
young people. You can now buy the
plays of Shakespeare separately for a
small cost, and so I would get “Ham
let,” "Macbeth,” “Romeo and Juliet’
and “Merchant of Venice.” When you
are able by all means get a Cyclope
dia of biography, so that you can
turn to the Interesting sketches of anv
great man or woman, such as GallUeo
Mozart, Handel, Raphael, Beethoven
Audubon, Linnaeus and hundreds o!
others. But don’t crowd your youthfu:
mind with modern novels. They ar(
made to sell —that’s all. —Bill Arp, is
Atlanta Constitution.
THE ANNIHILATION OF SPACE.
The railroad and the telegraph
Have made this world so small
That what took weeks in days gone by
Now takes no time at all.
Each year ’tis smaller, through some
new
And marvelous device;
But it’s as big as ever to
The man without the price.
—Washington Star.
A MINUTE OR SO LATE
Sweet Wife —Oh, Harold, the hall
clock just fell and narrowly missed
mother. Had it struck her she would
have been killed.
Harold (aloud —You don’t say so!
(Aside) I always did say that clock
was slow. —Indianapolis News.
DR.TALHAGE’S SERftON
The Eminent Divine’s Sunday
Discourse.
lubjeoti The Work Nearest at
Your Religion Into I’ractlce—lSO Grate
ful For God’s Common Blessings—
Revenue of Spiritual Strength.
Washington, D. C.—ln this discourse
Dr. Talmage advises us to do our best in
the spheres where we are placed arid not
wait to serve God in resounding position;
text, I Corinthians x, 31, “Whether, there
fore, ye eat or drink or whatsoever ye do,
do all to the glory of God.”
When the apostle : n this text sets forth
the idea that sd common an action as the
taking of food and drink is to be conduct
ed to the glory of God, he proclaims the
importance of religion in the ordinary af
fairs of our hie. In all ages of the world
there has been a tpudeney to set apart cer
tain days, places and occasions for wor
ship, and to think those were the chief
realms in which religion Was to act. Now,
holy days and holy places have their im
portance. They give opportunity for spe
cial performance pi Christian duty arid for
regaling of the religious appetite, but they
cannot take the place of continuous exer
cise of faith and prayer. In other words,
a man cannot be so much of a Christian on
Sunday that he can afford to be n world
ling all the rest of the week. If a steamer
put out for Southampton and go one day
in that direction and the other six days in
other directions, how long before the steam
er will get to Southampton? It will never
get there, And, though a man may seem
to be voyaging heavenward during the holy
Sabbath day, if during the following six
days of the week he is going toward the
world and toward the flesh and toward the
devil how long will it take him to reach
the peaceful harbor of heaven, Y'ou can
not eat so much at the Sabbath banquet
that you can afford religious abstinence
the other six days. Heroism and princely
behavior on great occasions are no apology
for lack of right, demeanor in circumstances
insignificant and inconspicuous. The gen
uine Christian life is not spasmodic j does
hot go by fits and starts, It toils otl
through neat and cold, up steep mount
ains and along dangerous declivities, its
eye on the everlastidg hills crowned with
the castle3 of the blessed, I propose to
plead for an everyday religion.
In the first place we want to bring the
religion of Christ into our conversation.
When a dam breaks and two or .hree vil
lages are overwhelmed or an earthquake
in South America swallows a whole city,
then people begin to talk about the uncer
tainty of life, and they imagine that they
are engaged m positively religious conver
sation. No. You may talk about these
things and have no grace of God at all in
pour heart, We ought every day to be
talking religion. If there is anything glad
about it, anything beautiful about it, any
thing important about it, we ought to be
continuously discussing.
I have noticed that men just in propor
tion as theif Christian experience is shal
low talk about funerals and graveyards and
tombstones and deathbeds,. The real, gen
uine Christian man talk-; chiefly about this
life and the great eternity beyond and not
so much about the insignificant pass be
tween these two residences.
And yet how few circles there are where
the religion of Jesus Christ is welcome.
Go into a circle even of Christian people,
where they are full of joy and hilarity, and
talk about Christ or heaven and everything
is immediately silenced, As on a summer
day when the forests are full of life, chat
ter, chirrup and carol—a mighty ehonn of
bird harmony, every tree branch an orches
tra—if a hawk appea in the sky, every
Voice stops and the forests are -till.
Just eo I have seen a lively religious cir
cle silenced on the appearance of anything
like religious conversation. Nd dnC had
anything to say save perhaps some old pa
triarch in the corner of the room, who
really thinks that something ought to be
said under the circumstances; go he puts
One foot over the ocher and heaves a long
sigh and says, “Oh, yes; that’s so, that’s
ho!”
My friends, the religion of Jesus Christ
is somettojg to talk about with a glad
heart. brighter than the sunshine.
Do noPWßound groaning about your re
ligion when you ought to be singing it or
talking it in cheerful tones of voice. How
often it is that we find men whose lives
are utterly inconsistent who attempt to
talk religion and a’.wayc make a failure of
it! My friends, we must live religion or
We eannoljtalk it. If a man- cranky and
cross and hard in liis deal
ings andfSen begins to talk about Christ
and everybody is repelled by it.
Yet I such men say in a. hining
tones. arc miserable sinners,” “The
Lord “The Lord have mercy on
you,” interlarded with
such which mean nothing but
cantingcanting is the worst form of
hvpocri iDjjPV we have really felt the re
ligion in our hearts, let us talk
it, amwith an illuminated eounte
nancejwemcmbering that when two Chris-
talk God gives special atten
tionjKnd writes down what they say: M; -
ladSf iii, 16, “Then they that feared the
I*jrd spoke often one to another, and the
lard hearkened and heard it. and a book
fX remembrance was written.”
f Again. I remark, we must bring the reli
ciou of Christ into our employments. “Oh,”
you cay, “that is very well if a man handle
large sums of money or if ho have an ex
tensive traffic, but in the humble work in
life that 1 am called to the sphere is too j
email for the action of such grand, heaven
ly principles.” Who told you so? Do you
no'; know that Cod watches the faded leaf
on the brook’s surface as certainly as He ;
does the path of a blazing sun? And the
moss f hat creeps up the side of the rock
makes as much impression upon God’s ;
mind as the waving toDS of Oregon pine .
and Lebanon cedar, and the alder, crack
ling under the cow’s hoof, sounds as loud
in GodVear ns the snap of a world's con
flagration. When you have anything to do
in life, however humble it may seem to be,
Cou is always there to help you to do it.
If ycur work is that cf a fisherman, then
God will help you, as He helped Simon
when He dragged Gennesaret. If your
work is drawing water then He will help
you, as when He talked at the well curb
tc the Samaritan woman. If you are en- :
gaged in the custom house, He will lead
ou as He led Matthew sitting at the re- j
eeipt of customs.
A religion that is not good in one place
is not worth anything in another place, j
The ran who has only a day’s wages in his
pocket as certainly needs the guidance of ,
religion as he who rattles the keys of a
bank and could abscond with a hundred
thousand dollars. j
There arc those prominent in the
churches who seem to be on public occa
sions very devout who do not pit the
principles of Christ’s religion into practice. ]
They are the most inexorable of creditors. ,
They arc the most grasping of dealers, j
They arc known as sharpers on the street. |
They fleece every sheep they can catch. A
country merchant comes in to buy spring
or fall goods, and he gets into the store of
one of these professed Christian men who
have really no grace in their hearts, and he
is completely swindled. He is so overcome
that he cannot get Jut of town during the
week. He stays in town over Sunday, gees
into some church to get-Christian consola
tion, when what is his amazement to find
that the very man who hands him the poor
box in the church is the one who relieved
liim cil his money! But never mind; the
deacon has his black coat on now. lie
looss solemn and goes home, talking about
“che blessed sermon.” If the wheat in the
churches should t? put into a hopper, the
first turn of the crank would make the
chaff fly, I tell you. Some of these men
are great sticklers for gospel preaching.
They say: “You stand there, in bands arid
surplice and gown and preach—'preach likj
an ange!--and we will stand out here and
attend to business. Don’t mix things.
Don’t get business and religion in the same
bucket, You attend to your matters, and
we will attend to ours.” They do not know
that God sees every cheat they have prac
ticed in the last six years: that He can look
through the iron wall of their fireproof
safe; that He has counted every dollar
they have in their pocket, and.that a dajr
of judgment will come. These inconsistent
Christian men will sit on the Sabbath rtight
in the house of God singing at the close Of
the service, “Rock of ages cleft for me,
and then when the benediction is pro
nounced shut the pew door and say as they
go out! “Goob-bye, religion. I’ll be back
next Sunday,"
I think that the church of God and the
Sabbath are only an armory where we are
to get weapons. Whcri War comes, if ft
man wants to fight for his country, he
does not go to Troy or to Springfield to do
battling, but he goes there for swords and
jpniskets, I look upon the church of Christ
and the Sabbath day as only the place and
time where and when we arc to get armed
for Christian conflict, but the battlefield is
on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thurs
day, Friday end Saturday,
Now, be careful t<3 let rione of those an
noyances go through your soill rinirraigned.
Compel them to administer your spiritual
wealth. The scratch of a sixpenny nail
sometimes produces Ifiekjaw, and the clip
of a most infinitesimal ailtlorance may
damage you forever. Do not let any an
noyance or perplexity come across yoUf
soul without its making you better.
Our National Government did not think
it belittling to put ft tax Oil pins and a tax
on buckles ftnd a tax On shoes. The indi
vidual taxes do not amount to much, but
in the aggregate to millions arid millions of
dollars. And I would have you, 0 Chris
tian man. put a high tariff on every annoy
ance and vexation that comes through your
soul. This might not amount to much in
single cases, hut in the aggregate it would
be a great revenue of spiritual strength arid
satisfaction, A bee ran suck honey even
out of A nettle, and if you have the grace
of God in your heart you can get sweetness
out Of that which would etn envise irri
tate and annov. The only .wav to get pre
pared for the great troubles of life is to
conquer these small troubles.
And I have to tell you, 0 Christian men.
if you cannot apply the principles or
Christ’s religion on a small scale you will
never be able to apply them on A larso
scale. If you cannot contend successfully
against these small sorrows that come
down single handed, what will you do
when the greater disasters of life come
down with thundering artillery, rolling
over your soul?
Again, we must bring the religion of
Christ into our commonest blessings. When
the autumn comes and the harvests are in
and the governors make proclamatiofls, we
assemble in churches and we are very
thankful. But every day ought to be a
thanksgiving day. We do not recognize
the common mercies of life. We have to
see a blind man led by his dog before we
begin to bethink ourselves of what a grand
thing it is to have undimmed eyesight.
We have to see some wounded maU hob
bling ou his crutch or with his empty coat
s’eeve pinned up before we leavn to think
a spr-’-nd thing God did for s when He
g-.ve us healthy use of our limbs. We are
so stupid that nothing but the misfortune*
of othcri can rouse us up to our blessings.
As the cx grazes in the pasture up to its
eye in clover, yet never thinking who
mak JPFiS clover, and at the bird nicks up
the vorni from the furrow, not knowing
that it is God who makes everything from
the animalcule in the sod td the seraph on
the throne, eo we go on eating, drinking
and enjoying, hut never thanking, or seh
dom thanking, or, if thanking at all, with
only half A heart,
I compared our indifference to the brute,
but pe-haps I wronged the brute, f dd not
know but that, among its other instincts,
it may have an instinct by which it recog
nizes the divine hand that feeds it. I (!j
not know but that God is, through it,
holding communication with v.'hdt We call
“irrational creation.” The cow that stands
under the willow by the watercourse chaw
ing its cud looks very thankful, and who
can tell how much a bird means by it*
song? The are na of the flowers smells like
incense, and the mist arising from the river
looks like the moke of a morning sacrifice.
Oh, that vc were a* responsive! Yet who
thanks God for the water that yushe* up
in the well, and that foams in the cascade,
and that laughs over the rocks, and that
patters in the showers, and that Clips its
hands in the eea? Who thanks God for
the air, the fountain of life, the bridge of
sunbeams, the path of sound, the great fan
on a hot summer’s day? Who thanks God
for this wonderful physical organism, this
sweep of the vision, this chime of harmony
struck into the ear, this soft tread of a
myriad delights over the nervous tissue,
this rolling of the crimson tide through ar
tery and vein, this drnmming of the heart
on our march to immortality? We take all
these things as a matter of course,
But suppose God should withdraw these
common blessings! Your body would be
come an inquisition of torture, t.he cloud
would refuse rain, every green thing would
crumple up, and the earth would crack
open under your feet. The air would cease
its healthful circulation, pestilence would
swoop, and every house would become a
place of skulls. Streams would first swim
with vermin and then dry up, and thirst
and hunger and anguish and despair would
lift their sceptres. Oh, compare such a life
as that with the life you live with your
families! Is it not time that, with every,
action of your life v e began to acknowl
edge these everyday mercies? “Whether
ye eat or drink or whatsoever ye do, do all
to the glory of God.” Do I address a man
or a roman who has not rendered to God
one single offering of thanks?
I was preaching one Thanksgiving Day
and announced my text—“Oh, give thanks
unto the Lord, for He is good, for His mer
er endureth forever.” I do not know
whether there was any blessing on the ser
mon or not, but the text went straight to
a young man’s heart. He said to himself
as I read the text: “ ‘Oh, give thanks unto
the Lord, for He is good’— Why. I have
never rendered Him any thanks! Oh, what
an ingrate I have been!” Can it be, my
brother, that you have been fed by the
good hand of God all these dayy, that you
have had clothing and shelter and all the
never offered your heart to God? Oh. let
fceneficient surroundings, and yet have
a sense of the divine goodness shown you
in everyday blessings melt your heart, and
if you have never before uttered one ear
nest note of thanksgiving let this be the
day which shall hear you sing! What I
say to one I say to all. Take this prac
tical religion I have recommended into
your everyday life. Make every day a
Sabbath and every meal a sacrament and
every room you enter a holy of holies. We
nil have work to do; let us be willing to do
We all have sorrows to- bear; let us
cheerfully bear them. We all have battles
to fight; let us courageously fight them. If
you want to die right, you must live right.
Negligence and indolence will win the hiss
of everlasting scorn, while faithfulness will
gather its garlands and wave its sceptre
and sit upon its throne long after this
earth has put on ashes and eternal ages
' have begun their march; You go home to
day and attend to your little sphere of du
ties. I will go home and attend to my lit
tle sphere of duties. Every one in his own
place. So our every step in life shall be a
triumphal march, and the humblest foot
stool on which we are called to sit will be
a conqueror’s throne. , „
tcorrrlght, IMS, t. XUpwk.J . ri
51.00 a Year.
NO. 41.
TRACKIN’ RABBITS.
■ 1 ~ T •
The fleecy flakes come failin' down
Deep in the stillness of
An’ robe the earth so bare a..“ rown
In bridal dress o’ purest white,
An’ ttifitnorv goes a nosin bacK
Toward the happy long ago,
When round the farm we used to traclc
The bunnie rabbits through the snow.
All bundled up with “comforters''
Around our boyish necks an ®ara
We’d cad the little hnntin curs
To limber up their runmn gears,
An’ round the snowy ol straw stack ■
An’ brush-heap clearin we would go,
Our hearts alive with fun, to track
The skeery rabbits through the snow.
When one was started, Moses help! j
But how them hankenn dogs and fly. f
At every jump they ci give a yelp* .
Us kids a finin’ in Urn cry,
Then through a dog-proot fence t and cut
An' to’ards its home safety go,
A leavin’ its pursuers but a
Its tracks cut down into the snow, f
We’ve trailed the brown an’ grizzly bear
When in the mountain short o meat, ,
11.-ive seen the elk with shaggy hair '
Lay dead an' blcedin’ at our feet, 1
The mountain lion's pelt have packed /
To camp, an’ laid the blacktail low,
But had no sport like when we tracked
Them skeered up rabbits through tilfc
snow. _ . /
Denver Post. '
Madge—“ Have you given Jack your
filial answer yet?" Mabel—“ Not yet—
but I have given him my final ‘no.”’
—Brooklyn Life. f
“Why do you girls call Bertie ‘The
Poent? Why, he’s just like a poem.
lie’s been rejected at lest forty times!”
-Chicago Daily News.
“Is that distinguished looking gentle
man a man of letters?” "Yes. he’s a
D, 1)., I.L. Dm A. Mm N. Am from Wash
ington, D. C.”—Philadelphia Bulletin.
“Why do you talk so much?” ma cried, >
Reproving little May.
“T s’pose it’s cause,” the child replied, i
“i’si got so much to say.”
—Philadelphia Press.
Mrs. Brown—“You know I went to
the employment agency ” Mrs.
Jones—“ Yes? Did you get a cook that
suited you?” Mrs. Brown—“ Why, no!
I couldn’t even get a cook that didn’t
suit me!”—Ptujp *
Mrs. Hauskeep—“You needn’t deny
It, Delia, I saw you permit that police
man to kiss you last niglit.” Della—
“Av coorse, ma’am. Shure, ye wouldn’t'
have me resist an officer, would ye?”
Philadelphia Press.
“Why don’t you go to work?” asked
the well meaning friend. “I don’t dare
to,” answered Willie Wlsliington. “Peo
ple would think my father had disin
herited me, and It would ruin my
credit.”—Washington Star. . <
George—“And if things do not go
well with us the first year, darling, I—
hem—presume your father will not aee
us suffer?” Birdie (sighing)—“Ncf,
dear, poor papa’s eyesight Is rapidly
growing worse, even now.”—Tit-Bits.
Strange capers which oft may cut J
Blame not in unrestricted terms.
Of course you may not like it, but
It’s quite agreeable to germs.
—Washington Star. >
“Johnnie,” said his mother, threaten
ingly. to the incorrigible, "I am going
to have your father whip you when he
comes home to-night.” ‘Tlease don’t,
mamma,” replied Johnnie, penitently,
“paw is alius so tired when he comes
home."—Boston Post. .
Officer— 1 “Is your brother, who was
no deaf, any better?” Bridget—“ Sure,
he’ll be all right In the morning.”
Officer—“You don’t say so.” Bridget—
“ Yes; he was arrested yesterday, and
he gets his heavin’ In the morning.”
—Denver Republican.
“According to statistics,” said the
sweet girl graduate, “women live about
ten years longer than men.” “Yes,”
growled the old bachelor, “and they
might live tifty years longer If they
weren't so shy about passing the thirty
mark.”—Chicago Tost. . *
A visitor to the farm was especially
struck by the great rnggedness and
strength of one of the stalwart har
vest hands, and said to the farmer:
“That fellow ought to be chuckful ®f
of work.” “He Is,” replied the farmer,
“or he ought to be, because I hain’t
never been able to get none out of
him.”—Success.
1
His Strenuous Remarks.
The elevated train came to a stop
at Seollay Square with such sudden
ness that an old man, with a silk hai
and three big bundles, was hurled
down the aisle as if from a catapult.
The bundles and the hat took various
directions, but the old man brought
up against a stout young woman, who
promptly measured her length on the
floor.
The young woman picked herself up
and gasped: “This is outrageous!’’
The old man said, as he groped about
for his bundles: “I—confound lb
know it—confound it—couldn’t help
myself—confound it.” Then as he left
the car he glared at the guard and In
dulged in this final outburst: “Con
found it all, I say!”
A man seated in the car said to his
neighbor: “The old fellow is a church
member.” “Perhaps,” was the reply,
“but he put a good deal of expression
1 into his words.”—Boston Herald.
Horse Meat iii Austria.
Nearly half a century ago the experi
ment of putting horse meat on the
market was made for the first time
!in Austria. A Government decree of
I April 29, 1854, gave legal permission
to cut up and sell horse meat as an
article of food. During thAest of that
year and in 1853, 943 V'ses were
! slaughtered for food in Vienna. The
i number rose in 1899 — the last year
for which statistics are obtainable—
I io 25,640 head. ■<