Newspaper Page Text
T. .1 UIMI'HIK, Rilltor. I
T. J WATSON, Publisher. |
VOLUME 111.
SUBSCRIPTION KAHN,
One Year, in advance $1 00
Six Months. “ 75
Three Months, “ 45
If not strictlv in advance 1 50
GKNKB Ali DIRKCTORY.
CHURCHES.
Preaching by the Circuit preacher, on
the 3-d Sunday in each month, at 11
o’cloc k a. m. and at the Furnace at 3
o’clock p. m.
Preaching by the Missionary Baptist
at the Furnace on the first Sunday and
Saturday night before. in each month,
by the pastor, Rev. T. C. Tucker.
MASONIC:
The regular meeting of Rising Fawn
Lodge No. 203, F. & A. M., the Ist and
3rd Saturday nights in each month. T.
J. Lumpkin, W. M., J. W. Russey, Sec
rectary.
Trentoi Lodge No. 170, F. A A. M.,
meets on the 2nd and 4th Friday nights
in each month H. A. Russell, W. M.,
J. A. Bennett, Secretary.
Trenton Royal Arch Chapter meets
on the 3rd Wednesday in each month.
M. A. B. Tatum, H. P.; W. U. Jaco
way, Secretary.
COURTS:
Superior Court meets on the 3rd and
and 4th Mondays in March and Septem
ber.
Court of Ordinary meets on the first
Monday in each uk nths. G. M. Crab,
tree, Ordinary.
The Justice Court for the Rising
Fawn district, on the 3rd Saturday in
each month.
EDUCATIONAL:
Tae county Board of Education meets
on the call o' the chairman. E. B.
Ketcberside, County School Commis
sioner.
uoFESSION A.1.. CARDS.
T. J. LUMPKIN, l
Rising Fawn, j )
m J. LUMPKIN A BRO.,
Attorneys at Law,
T ..°tte.
Will nay promos attention to the col
lection of claims and all business en
trusted to their car°, in the several
courts of the counties of Dade, Walker,
Chattooga and Catoosa. <*n
ilabaaa Great Mm Railroad.
TIME CARO.
Taking effect February 20th, 1881.
NORTH BOUND.
No. 2 Mail.
Arrives. Leaves.
Meridian, i j ,6 20 a. m
York, 629 a. m. 1 630 “
Livingston, 654 “ | 655 “
F.pes, 717 “ ' 718 “
Miller, ! 727 “ j 723 “
Eutaw. 1 805 “ j 820 *•
Tuscaloosa, 95t “ 1 958 “
Uottondile, 110 li ‘‘ 10 12 “
Coalintr, ! 10 28 “ J 10 30 "
Wftoilstock, 11 ttO < t*i
Birmirurkam, 1 ’ 14 p. m. 12 10 p. ir.
Trnssvitle, ' 12 54 “ ; 12 56 “
Springville, 121 “ 133 “
Whitney, j 200 “ 210 <l
A Italia, 256 “ 311 “
Collinsville, !4 07 “ 408 “
Branden, ! 434 “ 436 •*
Fort l'ayne, 4:1 “ 452 “
Sulphur Spriugs, I 543 “ 5 4.5 1
Rising Fawn, I 600 *• 601 “
Trenton, I 624 “ i 625 “
Wauhatchie, 7oS “ j 705 “
Chattanooga, I7 20 “ |
NORTH BOUND.
No. 1 Mail.
A-.ives. Leaves.
Chattanooga, 8 00 a. nt,
Wauhatchie. 815a. m. 816 '•
Morgsnsville, 831 “ 834 “
Trenton, 851 “ 852 11
Ris’Dg Fawn, 914 “ !' 15 “
Sulphur Springs, 930 “ 932 “
Valiev Head, 955 “ 955 “
Fort Payne, 10 21 10 22 “
Brandon, 10 26 “ 10 38 “
Porters vi lie, 10 50 “ 10 40 “
Collinsville, | 11 02 “ ! 11 03 “
Greenwood, ! U 36 “ | II 26 “
Attalla, 11 50 j 12 11 p, nt,
Whitney, 12 58 p. m. 12 57 “
Spriugville, 131 “ 133 “
Trnssviile, 207 “ ' 208 <l
Birmingham, 243 “ | 248 “
Woodslock, 402 “ ' 403 “
Coaling, 434 “ 436 “
Cottondale, 452 “ 463 “
Tawalooss, 5 12 515 “
Eutaw, 618 *•' I 703 “
Miller, 74 t ‘ 742 “
Epes 751 “ 752 “
Livingston, j 814 “ 815 “
York, 840 “ 841 “
Meridian, | 950 “
Ch as. B. Wali ace, 1. B. Mot r.isox,
Si j < I'tin 1(c t. G n’l Pass. Ag’t.
In a gust of wind several years ago a
teed front an ailanthus tree lodged be
tween the great marble blocks in the
wtilPof the Roman Catholic Cathedral
on Fifth avenue, New York. Now a
tree several feet in height is spreading
its branches there.
RISING FAWN, 1)A1)E COUNTY, GEORGIA, FRIDAY, AUGUST 20, 1881.
QUININE SUBSTITUTE.
JHEBMALINE
The Only 25 Cent
AGUE REMEDY
IN THE WORLD.
CURES
CHILLS&FEVER
And all MALARIAL DISEASES.
From Elder Thomson, Pastor
|lJjTjl|'Tljl of the Church of the Disciples of
InUSUmAUEJ Christ, Detroit, Mich.—“My son
was dangerously ill and entirely prostrated from Chills
and Fever. Quinine and other medicines were tried
without effect. Mr. Craig, who had used Thbrmaline
as a tonic, advised a trial of Turkm aline, which was
done, resulting in his complete recovery within a few
days.’*
AT ALL SSNCtUTS, CS B 7 MAIL, 2Gc. PER BCZ.
DUNDAS DICK & CO., 112 While Street, N. Y.
SEID LITINE POWDERS,
S MS 11SHB
(S2U33ISTS.) KiSS
laxatine s g
LOZENGES
Regulate the Bowels easily
imd pleasantly. Cures Cons- BaKaJUkUai
tipation, Piles, T>! 1! "ii n r "",mm sl jj
Headache, Heartburn, &c. All W^TaJ
Druggists, or by mail, 25c. per
box. DUNDAS DICK & CO., 112 White
Street, New York. (
(.TIT3IL jy Capsulets.
Eiillni I■* ll ° sa(l ;> t and most
reliable Cure for all
Diseases of the Urinary Organs. Certain
Cure in eight days. No other medicine
can do this. The best medicine is the
cheapest. Bewareof dangerous imitations.
All Druggists, or by mail, 75c. and $1.50
per box. Write for Circular. DUNDAS
1)ICK & CO., 112 White Street, New York.
B Instantly relieved by the use
of MAtijUEEN 31 ATI CO
~and after severa!
applications of it. a d
Druggists, or mailed on receipt ot PVJSH
by DUNDAS DICK & CO., M’fg Lgig
f ~ -"Guts. 112 White Street, New York. <
I THE best
LinEflS
I TOR KAN AND BEAST.
B For more Ilian a third of a century the
I Mexican Muslim" I.tnlmciit has been
| known to millions all over the world as
■ the only safe reliance for the relief of
Haccidents and pain. It is a medicine
| above price aiul praise— the best of its
I kind. For every form of external pain
MEXICAN
Mustang Liniment is without an equal. I
It penetrate* llesli and muscle to
tlie very bone— making tho continu
ance of pain and inflammation impos
sible. its effects upon Ilipnan Flesh and
the llrute Creation are equally wonder
ful. The Mexican
MUSTANG
Liniment is needed by somebody In I
every house. Every day bring’s news of I
the of an n wfnl scald or lmni I
subdued, of rheumatic martyrs re-1
stored, or a valuable liorse or ox I
saved by the healing power of this
LINIMENT
which speedily cures such ailments of
the HUMAN FLESH as
Rlie mu n tis m, Swellings, Stiff
Joints, Contracted Muscles, Burns
and Scalds, Cuts, Bruises and
| Sprains, Poisonous Bites and
Stings, Stiffness, l.ameiiess, Old
Sores, Fleers, Frostbites, t'iillblains.
Sore Nipples, faked Breast, and
indeed every form of external dis
ease. It Itruls without scars.
► For the liHUTK L'hkation it cures
Sprains, Swinny, Stilt' Joints,'
Founder, Ilnrness Sores, lloof Bis-I
eases, Foot Bot, Screw Worm, Scab,!
Hollow Horn, Scratches, Wind-1
galls, Spavin, Thrush, Bingbonr.l
Old Sores, Poll Evil, Film tipoiiE
the Sight and every other ailment I
to whirh the occupants of theE
Stable and Stock Yard are liable. 1
The Mexican Mustang Liniment 9
always cures and never disappoints;l
and it is, positively, |
THE BEST
OF ALL
LINIMENTS
FOE KAN OE BEAST.
Thb question what degree of heat is
necessary to destroy trichinae in swine’s
flesh is of importance. A German ex
pert says that if the pieces put into a pot
to boil are large, trichinae in the middle
are not certain to be killed by such de
gree of cooking as they are usually sub
jected to. As long as meat retains the
pink color known as “ rare ” it has been
insufficiently cooked to destroy the par
asites. Smoking and pickling the meut
are of no use whatever.
The wise editor should sail lightly
down the stream of life, because he is a
good clipper,
“ Faithful to the Right Fearless , Against the Wrong.”
THE VIS B-Bi H.
BY B. X. MUKKITTRIOX.
Let poets sing
The chicken wing,
And bnokwhest cakes and griddle fishes |
And side by side
Place lobster fried,
Pork chops and other comlo dukes;
And jet unto my dying day,
While o’er my reason I am lord,
I’ll stand before the world and eey t
“ The fish-ball is Its own reward 1 ”
I'm fond of ham
And crimson jam,
And macaroni crowned with bacon;
Yet, while I aigh
For cake and pie,
My faith in clams remains nnshaken;
But when my fancy’s running wild.
And I’m by no gay lark outeoared,
X preach to woman, man and child:
“ The fish-ball is its own reward!’’
Oh I gay marine,
You’re often seen
Nailed np against a door or shutter;
The little boy
Just jumps with joy
To see you served with milk and butter.
Oh! dwelt I far beyond the eea,
By fifty thousand girls adored,
The motto of my soul would be:
“ The fish-ball ia its own reward I”
Oh, noble cod 1
To you I nod;
You make me sad and medl-tative;
When toned with wine
You’re quite divine
Unto the Massachusetts native,
Oh ! when I’m old and l>°nt and gray,
With wholesome mmals richly Btored,
I’ll boldly face the world and say :
“ The fish-ball is its own reward 1”
A STRANGE STORY.
I liave a strange, almost incredible,
story to tell of an experience of my own
one fearful night in the woods. Im
agination had nothing to do with it, for
I am a back wood’s daughter, accus
tomed to the wild sounds of the forest,
the loneliness, ami all that is terrifying
to a novice.
My father was a good man, serving
Gcd after his own simple fashion, seeing
Him and loving Him in His works, I
liave heard him hold forth on the provi
dent ways of the beaver. “Why! the
little critter’d starve in the coW ---
Hit hadn't -' „„J the" A"*
~.:i 0,0 ;+ heard lnm tell ot
the oarribou : “ at that, too,” he
wopi,] *n,y, “ al ni at the moose. Now,
the caribou has to travel often a matter
of twenty miles for his dinner, for he’s a
daihty ’un, and only eats the long gray
moss that hangs from the trees ; so God
gave him snow-shoes, good as an Injun
could make ’em, to skim over the ice
crust—while tho big, heavy moose there
sinks right in. His dinner is close at
hand. He could live for months on an
acre lot. ” He could speak the loon, and
its adaptation in every way to its - watery
homo—always ending such talk with :
“All God’s works are ’pon honor;
there’s no half-way with Him.”
I was the only one left of ten children.
My father, when mourning over and
missing the others, would never com
plain bnt only say, “ They’re better off.
Wliy, if we can’t trust the little chil
dren that don’t know the meaning of sin,
there ain’t any chance for the men 1”
And so he lived his quiet life—his heart
beating close to nature’s heart, and his
soul unconsciously seeking and finding
nature’s God.
My mother must have been beautiful
in her youth. She was a lorette Cana
dienne, and her bright French spirits
carried her gayly over many hard trials
in her life of frequent deprivation. One
great, overshadowing sorrow of her life
was the unaccountable disappearance of
her little year-old daughter, her only
beautiful child—the one in her own im
age, whom from the first she loved with
a peculiar tenderness.
The child had been left alone in her
little bircli-bark crib for a short half
hour, while mother was busy at the
spring, a mile from home, in the midst
of the woods. I, a little 6-year-old, was
off in the canoe with my father, as a
treat for having been especially good
the day beforo. Father and I had a
splendid time—we •ltfays did when we
were away together—and, our canoe full
of trout, we were coming gayly home
toward evening, when a cold chill fell
on our happiness, and my child’s heart
felt a strange'-dhrill as I read a sudden
anxiety in my father’s face, whose every
change I knew. His quick ear had
caught the sour and of mother’s voice, and,
trfter a while, I, too, could hear a hope
less moan, a dreadful, heart-broken
sound. We found mother kneeling on
the floor, her hand leaning on the empty
crib, and moaning as one that could not
be comforted. The baby was gone.
How or where we could not tell—we
never knew. Weeks were spent in
searching for her, and at length, to save
mother’s reason, father forced her to
leave the pretty log cabin in the woods
by the fake, where this last sorrow had
come npon her, and we went io Mon
treal. *
There we lived quietly for years dur
ing the winter time. The nuns of the
great Convent of the Gray Sisters took
charge of my education. Mother and
I had neat little rooms in the French
quarter, while father went off’ moose
hunting for weary months; but the
summer time we with him.
He would choose lovilly spots for onr
summtr encampments, never on the site
of the log cabin deserted after tbe baby’s
loss, until the summer of my 19th year.
Then great desire took possession of
my mother to go once more to the old
home. She had been very delicate that
and my great, rough father de
nied her nothing. I shudder when I
think of that beautiful, direful place
now—it seems as though our evil fate
hoven and about it. All the anguish I ever
knew centers there.
We passed one peaceful month to
gether, disturbed only by distant ru
mors of diphtheria, a scourge which
seemed to be striding from village to
village, first on the river, then nearer
ns on the great lake; but wo never
thought of its touching us, until one
miserable night, when father came
home, languid and feverish, from one
of hie numerous expeditions, and we
read in his face that the ghastly finger
of th£scourge had set its mark upon
him. After the second day of anxiety
about father all strength seemed to fail
my delicate little mother. From llio
first she had despaired about him, and
now T saw that, if father’s life wore
taken, I should have to pan with them
both.
He life would die with his. for sorrow
forgeF stronger bonds even than joy, and
they bad suffered so much together, his
love always supporting her, that he had
become life of her life. She could not
exist/alone.
I struggled hand to hand, and sick at
heart/ against what I felt to be an in
aluu , Lie fate. and. on the afternoon of
c jighth day, I found myself alone and
| n •>d- despairing, *;ive for the hnppi-
I r a ~
j ift sunset came, as I satJy t€e lake
j side, ) Hooding my with a
j heavenly glory, like a sign from them to
me of their new-found jojr.
The stars bfd come out, before I ven
tured to return to the worse than deserted
house. I could not hope for help from
any neighbor until I sought it out myself
the next day, and I%id to look forward
to a night, how horrible. I did not fore
see “or I could not have endured it.
hat follower'll could scarcely credit
myself, if I didmot bear on my hand a
tangible proof in a well-defined scar;
and, even now, I could not bear to write
of tilat night’s experience, had not my
children’s laughter, and my loving hus
band’s care long since banished all un
natural gloom from my life.
While I had been sitting alone gn the
lake shore, toward the evening, I hnd
heard a distant shot; it scarcely roused
me. A sportsman, I thought, had wan-
dered from his encampment on the op
posite shore, and seen some game in our
wildwoods, killed it, and his canoe had
long since carried him away. In the
gathering darkness I groped my way
back through the familiar little, path,
and reached my own door. I alone
should pass the threshold in the future ;
their feet were still; the busy feet that
had toiled for me, followed me, and had
been ever near me ! I was to go on my
rugged path alone ! Heartsick and over
come, I stopped at the door, and, lean
ng my head against it, sobbed in un
controllable despair. Tired out at length,
I had grown quiet, and was about to lift
the latch, when a faint moau, as of an
animal in pain, and close to me, startled
me; then a death-like silence reigned.
T knew I had been mistaken. I felt
that I must forget, myself and help the
poor creature in distress. “It is very
good lor strength to know that some oue
needs you to be strong.” No longer
hesitating I hurried into the little cabin,
struck a light and wont in the direction
whence the moan had reached my ears.
I thought of the shot I had heard. It
was quite possible a poor wounded deer
was lying in the bushes. Yes, I could
now see its skin—unmistakably a fawn
—spotted dun color. It lay quite still—
perhaps that moan had been its dying
gasp—and so I came quite close to it,
leaned over, and, paralyzed with horror,
saw my mother s face, only young and
very beautiful, as she must have looked
when a girl. Deathly pale, possibly,
she lay—matted hair all about her face,
and clothed in doe-skin. Just then she
stirred ; it was not death. All wonder
ceased within me, every feeling fled be
fore the thought that this being what
ever, whoever she was, might be saved
to life.
I dragged her the few steps into the
house, laid her on my hemlock boughs,
untouched by me since the sickness vis
ited us. Then I found a wound in the
poor creature’s side and bound it up,
bathed her head, and, in the quiet, now
again I felt startled at seeing my moth
er’s image, young and fair, before me,
and, when at length her great eyes
opened, I felt it must be that sister lost
to me till now, and sent back in this sad
hour to take my mother’s place. I
leaned forward, in au access of tender
ness, to welcome her, when a look of
fright., an animal-like wild terror, took
possession of her face, and a low sort of
snarl broke from her human lips.
The start she gave caused a fresh flow
of blood; dimness passed over her eyes.
Again I stanched the wound and pre
pared nourishment in case she waked.
Too busied in these ways for further
speculation, only with a strange weight
at my heart and weariness of body, sud
denly I felt the gleam of eyes watching
me. Such strange eyes! No human
expression about them; a stealthy look
in them now. Gently as I could I ap
proached her side. She trembled and
tried to hide her head when I offered
her my carefully-prepared food. I moved
away and studiously avoided any ap
pearance of watching her. Yet I was
intensely conscious of her every move
ment. I could see her eying, with a
wretched, famished look, a raw venison
steak that had been forgotten and lay
on the table close beside her. Stealthi
ly, like a beast of prey, her feeble hand
stole toward it, and in a moment sho
had torn it in pieces and devoured it.
Horror filled my heaft. Could this
creature be human ? I s,|t still in tho
corner, where, myself unseenf I could
watch and restrain her if necessary, and
soon—weakness overcoming her after
this last effort—she lay tossing in un
easy sleep.
Oh! I was so weary and so very
lonely 1 The dreadful night was almost
at an end. T went to her side, throw
mj—the Y'.fd beside |jer, anejf put
wonderful eyes opened full in. my face.
1 fixed them with my own. I carossed
her, called her by the endearing names
of old. I besought her to he gentle and
to love me. I told her she was my own,
the only creature left for me to love and
care for ! One short second it seemed
as if a soul looked out of her glorious,
deer eyes, then, with a groan as if she
gave the struggle over, and with that
low, fearful growl again, she fastened
her white teeth in my hand.
Shrieking with pain, I fainted. When
I came to myself, dawn was struggling
in at the window; leaf-shadows flickered
on the floor. Fearful pain in my hand
roused me at length, and a consuming
thirst drove me into the woods toward
the spring to allay it.
I struggled through the underbrush,
and there, close to the water, discerned
a confused mass. There lay my poor
sister, dead, her head pillowed on a
wild eat of the woods, shot by the same
hand,'probably, that had wounded her
fatally.
TELLItTQ TRUTHS.
It is very important, Jiid jjoleridge,
that truth should be put into its proba
ble shape in order that it may b# be
lieved. lam often accused of being a
Quaker, because I seldom give a direct
answer to sundry questions; but that
arises from the incomplete manner in
whioh they are put to me. I am also
sometimes charged with exaggerating
facts; but my accusers seem to be ig
norant that truth is like an actor on the
stage, who requires a little rouge to
make him look natural by gaslight
The same rule applies to everything,
said the dear old sophist. If you aim at
a target you have to calculate the dis
tance and elevate your arrow to a cer
tain angle, otherwise it falls below the
mark. In like manner an orator, who
wishes to convince, must color his re
cital to the capacity of his bearers. An
intelligent preacher should, therefore,
accommodate bis discourse to his con
gregation, else he disgusts instead of
convinces. When Whitefield told a
fashionable congregation, in one of his
sermons, that there were infants in hell
not a span long, they shuddered and
believed. At all events, they received
the horrible announcement in silence.
But when he preached the same doctrine
to the begrim% colliers of Newcastle,
their human nature rose against it, and
they pelted him out of town with coals.
And yet it is evident the thing was as
true one day as another.
‘Tailors are taking measures to en
large their business.
I TERMS:-#I,OO per Annum, slrtdlyln Arivanv
NUMBER 42,
PLEASA NTRIEB.
The English sparrow—“ Have I driv
en all the other birds from this town ?
Well, I should twitter.”
Said the General to the Major, “ What
is your rank, sir ? ” and the Major re
plied, “ I am a Major, General.”
Why mourn for Grimes—his daughters live;
Ou fashion’s streets we find ’em,
And they wear “ Old Grimes’s coat,”
All buttoned down behind ’em.
“Something to eat?” Tramp—
“Yes’m. But I don’t want no quail,
’cause it’ been awful hard with ’em this
winter, and they have had to feed on all
sorts of pisen berries. ”
A wise father to his son—“ Now,
John, I do not object to your being
fool and an idiot. Bea fool and i n idiot
if you want to, but what I do not wish
you to do is to let everybody know it. ”
•A onk-cent stamp for a otrculaire,
A one-cent stamp for a newspapaire,
A tliree-cent stamp for a sealed lettaire.
All licked on the right cornaire
Lick, brothers lick, lick with caire,
On the right-hand side, not everywhaire,
Unless you want the Postmastaire
To make things hot and cuss and swaire.
“ With neatness,” he remarked, as he
shot down hill on a bob-sled, “and dis
patch,” he groaned the next day, point
ing to a 15-cent strip of court-plaster on
his nasal appendage and classical fore
head.
A young lady and her father were
looking at a druggist, who was very
nicely balancing the delicate little scales
on which the prescription was being
weighed. “ How precise ! how fine !
how little !” said the girl. “ Yes,” said
the father, “ but he will not do so with
the bill.”
In the spring the maiden’s fancy
Turns to thoughts of making bay—
With a matrimonial view she
FUrtetli much and j>lays croquet;
But the young man does not tumble,
And, with mercenary view,
He considers that It’s cheaper
To pay boerd for one than two.
“My love for yon is like that glow
ing fire,” said Adolphus, as he blinked
at the binning anthracite and then at
the object of his affections. “ What a
rrrotn full J' y r va, and tile
spark got quite warm trying to think
how she spelled the sentence.
In the Senate Chamber at Washing
ton, the Chaplain offered the Lord’s
prayer. When he had finished, Dool
mey loaned over to Josonby, and re
marked: “ He stolo that prayer, and I’ll
let a ‘ boodle ’ on it, for I heard the
same ideas expressed in Enreka at a fu
neral over two years ago. ”
A Dutchman in Albany went out to
liis milkman in tho street with a dish in
each hand, instead of one as usnal. The
dispenser of attenuated milk asked him
if he wished to fill both vessels ? The
Dutchman replied, suiting the action to
the word, “l)is is for de milluk, and dig
for de water—and I will mix dem so as
to sliute mine self.”
“Yes,” said the witness, “I remem
lier the defendant’s mother crying on the
occasion referred to. She was weeping
with her left eye—the only one she has
—and the tear were running down her
right cheek.” “What!” exclaimed the
Judge, “ how could that be ?” “ Please,
your Honor,” said the witness, “ she
was awfully cross-eyed.”
AXRVDOTK OF SOJOURNER TRUTH.
Some years ago, when Mrs. Child was
presiding at an anti-slavery meeting at
which the African “sibyl ” was present,
a clergyman asked permission to speak.
It being granted, he mounted the plat
form and poured forth the following
tirade : “ I am an orthodox minister of
the gospel I came here this after
noon to hear some of the eloquence and
wit which I understand were so abun
dant at these meetings ; but, instead of
that, I have thus far listened to little
but insults heaped upon th* clergy. It
is the first time I ever thrust my pres
ence among you; it will be the last. I
can And a better use for my leisure hours
than attendance upon gatherings where
the only speakers are women and jack
asses.” He paused. There was a dead
silence for a moment through the hall.
Then Sojourner Truth suddenly arose
from one of the rear seats, and addressed
the chair : “Thegentleman tells us he is
a minister of the gospel,” she said, “and
60 he probably knows what’s in the
scripture. There was another minister,
a long time ago, named Balaam. He got
mighty mad, too, at an ass that spoke. But,
Missus Chairman, I’d like to remind the
gentleman that it was the ass. and not
the minister, that saw the angel,”
A religion which does not suffice to
govern and control a man will never
suffice to save him. That whioh does
not distinguish him f rom a wicked world
will never distinguish him from a perish
ing world.