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THE LEDGER: GAFFNEY, S. OBTOBER 1, 1896. 3 I ^ OUT OF THE WOODS. Fresh from tho People Around Rocky Crook. Kill Elmpkina nn<t Ilia Illrrt Dog;* Make Trouble—Deacon Joiner Comes Cp “fllost Feloniously Drunk.” The ponebyest and most tremendius fuss and oonfusionment you ever heard tell of, perhaps, 1 m vm white people, Is now poin on be tween the Larys and the Simp kinses. The storm riz down in the Flat Woody one day ' V^'v mv Iast w0l ‘ k aiia , v - ' has be«‘n blowin hiah aml fast hiph and fast and furious h e nceforwards. Tt is all on account of a dead dop, which in the fullness of life and flesh belonged to Hill Simpkins. Whilst I haven’t been down there in the thick of the fuss, as it were, the maincst facts in the ease have come to me on the general rounds. business is that the deacon now swears and maintains that he didn’t drink ‘‘narry drop of sperits,” eo help him God. On Saturday night before the last Third Sunday, which is regular meetin day over at 1’nrk Log where for somethin lietter than 30 years th • deacon has belt forth as cr.e of t.ie shrntn lights—they had the old rooster up before the church or .a general, sweepin charge of drunk and dis orderly. Now, as I said before, it was nothin to me, and I am the last man in the world to be meddlin and mixin myself up with things that don’t belong to me. But it so come to pass that T was over at Bark Log that day and heard the deacon give in his sid; of the strange and peetirious ease. From what the deacon says with his own mouth it, was nothin more and nothin less than a plain and regular ease of drunk, but the way in which he soys it was brung on—that’s where the rancid and fishy smell comes in. ARPS BLUNDERBUSS. He Firoa a General Broadside nt Pooplo and Affairs. Tackle* Vnrloii* Topic*—Talk* of Kcform* Itcllgiou, Tolltlcs. Cycling: — t**"" norlntc* on Faint uiul Urokcn Ola**. T!«o Wherefores nn<l Whcncenc**. It would seem like Bill Simpkins rent the dog from town down there for Dan Lory to train in huntii.. “What little. I don’t know in regards to dogs and guns and sicli like must of been tore out of the books before my day and generation,” says Dan, and that settled it. Bill he sent his fine , dog right on down to Flat Woods next ! day, and on the next return mail he got the news that the dog was well stricken with buckshot from a shotgun in the hands of a man by the name of Lary. Dan sent word to Bill that he was mighty sorry but the dog went mad and he was necessary com pelled to kill him. But in the main- time Bill had lit out for Flat Woods to see about it -which, he says, that dog cost him $13 ns a poppy and $30 wouldn’t of bought him. Naturally of course he was a heap more sorry about it than Dan, but he didn’t git mad till Dan put in to give him all ti e facts and general circumference of the calamity. “You ought to know. Bill, that I did mortally htite to do it,” says Dan. “but the Marne dog was ravin mad if there is anything in ‘igns, arrl I felt like it was my private and public, duty to kill him on lly* spot. It was ruther eaily for huutio anyhow, and the wool her was rwellerin hot, but I got down my rid musket that evonin and started over to the swamp, thinkin maybe I meught jump Feme rabbits or pick otit a few Mptirrols. We bad got. way over there in my pea field nearly to the swninp, arrl Ihe, dog was mnn.in round and round like he had struck n hot trail and lost It, when all of a sud lont like he stopped short and quiek ns If he was [shot nod straightened out his tall, tremblin all over, and froze stiff in Ins trneks. T lowed at first maybe he had ct somethin at dinner wlreh went back on him- :eein him tremblin all o'er that v.ny like somethin was hurtin of him powerful. I called and called, and whist led mid whistled till my mouth e. e.s tired, l ot he wouldn’t budge narry inch. Then I 1 he light I would go up dost ord look at him and sec if I could tell what, was the matter. And, man. rir, it did j< st naturally l>mt anything I had ever saw. The blame ‘’og v nis plum | analyzed from the end of his nose cV-an Lack to the tip of his tail, and he couldn't move a peg. I whistled and called, but he didn't move. T hollered at him and kicked him. but he didn’t stir a hair. I’aley, Bill, Idontbrlievc tho blame dog oould move, arid more than that 1 tool; j nrtiolar notice that he was pantin and ftxtmln at the mouth eoni'ddm: lil<>. ]f that want n mad deg. Bill, then T hope and trust I will never see one. At any nib's, he was either foamin mad or ravin crazy, and I lowed his time had. come to die. flo 1 lacked ofT o few steps and cooked my gun find let him have it which you understand I bad put in ni load of buckshot, that even,in so as to be ready if In ease the dog mouglit jump a turkey or r. door.” Tlio Klrdi VTcro Tiiere. “Did you see any biids around there?” says Hill. “Birds?” tavs Dan. “Well, I should ray. And right along tlnue, Bill, is where my hurtin luck chows up plum marvelous. When the gun fired a big drove of partridges Husked ami rlz and blamed if 1 didn’t find three dead ones layiu around then* on the ground winch 1 bad killed with stray shot.” “That wi ‘. a bird dog—tae finest that overwent to the field you long-haired, eream-ryed idiot," says Bill, “and you arc the durndest biggest fool hi 17 atntes and torritores." Ami from that the whole thing start ed, Bill got hotter and hotter as they Went on till he said everything he could lay his tongue to except his Sun day school lesson, whilst Dan belt out. and maintain si to tho last that “the durn dog v. a a either foamin mad or ravin crazy.” I be women folks have now put their fingers in the pie and stirred nndtnlked ami talked and stirrcd.till sueh another nilxtry and messinent you never heard tell of. The dog is dead now, and I nm in.' hopes that Bill will recover and let tin* rest bile down, and cool off and /pilt. Tin 1 Deaco:i "Fc onlonvljr Drunk.” One day week b-fore last Deacon .To'ner went to tov » and (hat night ha “’ine up “most feloniously drunk." 'I bat was none of my business, and no skin off my shins, you understand, anil I wouldn't Is* spread- lu the news now If It hadn’t already leaked out proniisens in the settlement. Every <ody in this coun try fur miles and miles around knows (1* D'r in Joim" got drunk. Even h’HV'. ' " 1 ' > that to the extent thht he d it't •<< " half way make out like he didn't git drunk. But the, most strangest part of tha Tho Deacon ••Fesoea Fp.” “I will have to own up to it, brethren, that I was drunk—most feloniously drunk"—says'the deacon, n» he went down into his side coat pockets after his old bandana handkerchief and mopped out the salt water which had backed up in bis eyes. “But I must go on and tqll you—and I would swear to it on a stack of Bibles ten feet thick and n mile high—that I never drunk nary single drop of sperits, so help me God. No doubts it will lx* hard for some of the brethren to believe that— particularly them that have traveled the downward road for lo 1 h<:;e many years and are consequentially familious with the common v. ny of bringingon a plain, old-fashion drunk. But neverthe less, henceforth and not wit hstnndin, brethren. I nexer drank nary single drop of sperits. I have spoke the truth—tho naked unwashed truth and nothin but the truth, so help me God.” “But everybody <;nys ihat Deacon Joiner wu« drunk. So he wr.f,—so he wao—and it was the most filthiest :tn<l low down os t drunk that has ever enme to joss amongst the memlx :s of 13: rk TiOg chmch. And yet I i ver drunk narry single ilrap of sperits that day. “Mow did Lt come to pass? Well, you see, brethren^ I bad vent totov.n that inornin, and one of the hands on the place- which his wife and seven of the children was all sick abed with chills and fever—he ask me if I wouldn’t be so kind, eondesccndin and cbligin as to fetch him a quart of r-pc:!;s. Sj I had got the sperits aecerdin, end as I rid along the; road on: my return back home that evening 1 bride out ail over with the mad itch in sp..ts as, big as your ihnnd. The more I scratched tho worst* I got with the itch till it, did naturally look like I would go slap slam crazy. It was wrong, brethren, I know it xwn wrong, but I then got mad mad lo think that I had lived in this vain and fleet in, world (dost up to 70 years, and then finallyat lust had to break out with the. itch. Some people mouglit mnylxj call it skin rupture or t he oxemas, or by some othe r fancy name, but to me it w as the itch nothin but the itch, and u stand Ions bad ease of it. As I rid on it got so bad t ill 1 would have to di«inount and git down along the road and rub and scratch myself agin the trees like a mangy, lousy hog. Then, pri soully I thought about tliut quart of sperits which I had bought for the sick, and says I to myself, it maybe mouglit cure the itch. So I went down into my sad dle l ags and got out tin; bottle, hitched my horse and slipped off dew n in the woods, crawled out of my shut .ind poured on the sperits, and rubbed, till my itebin skin soaked up all the sperits, whereas 1 felt, a whole lot, latter. I then mounted my horse and rid on towards home. I didn’t, feel apy more rufferin from the itch, but I didn’t go mere than a mile or so before I felt the sperits powerful. At first I didn’t know what in the round created, world was the matter with me—I did feel so tre- mendus loose and mellow and rich and good. But presently I was took w ith a powerful swimmin of the Iwad, and then I got sick—«o orful, fnoital sick. About that time I reckon I must of fell off of my horse, mid hence forwards after that I didn’t know a bk-ssod thing till I woke up nt home next mornin with my bend feelin as big as a Lumper basket, and—and— but I reckon the brethren can see the pint, I am drivin nt. But the Itch was gone—knocked sky high and cured on the first round. “I have now give unto you all the maincst facts in the case, brethren, ✓ nncl I hopo you will deal Ulml and ffcntle with me nceordin. I nm willin for you to know—I nm w illin for the whole dis covered world to know—that Deacon Joiner got drunk — most feloniously drunk. But please remember that I never drunk nary single drop of s|x*r- Its," All novel? nt Kuril I.og. The ease was then turned over to a committee of 15. The committee wont out and belt a confabulation, finally at last they reported back in favor of flndln the deacon not guilty, provldin he would promise on his word ns a Christ inn ninn that lu* would never more use sperits hi u plain ease of itch. Old Parson Travis was there, and whilst he want on the committee, he said if he was in order he would love to make a few seat ter in remarks in piivsin. He was hound to believe what Deacon Joiner said in regards to the itch and the sperits, but yet still he thought it mougbt be the best thing they could do to withdraw church fel lowship from tho deacon for a few months at any rates. “If you don’t do somethin along that, line, brethren," says he*, “I am __ afraid there niought be a general breukin out of the itch amongst the members at Bark Log." But the committee stood flatfooted on their report. The deacon put on hit long-meter face t*id gave his solemn vow* nceordin. And now once more nil Is lovely over at old Bark Log. nurt’B SA.vDcna One time there was a generous, big- hearted man by tlio name of Col. Grif fin, living at Gainesville, Gu., and his heart’s desire was to .see i>eace on earth and good will among men. His hand was open as the day to charity, but his chief delight was to reconcile those, who were at enmity and make peace between neighbors. He worked dili- gently along this line for several years and was called the peacemaker, but in course of time lie seemed to lose his influence, and if he succeeded in smoth ering a quarrel it broke out again. Pol itics got rampant and church members got, nt outs, and it took a good deal of his time visiting around and pleading for peace. At last he ]xmdcretl over the matter, and, like old Hip Van Winkle, ho “swore, off.” “1 can’t do it, judge,” lie sadly confessed to his old friend. Judge Lumpkin, “I can’t do it, T thought I could reform mankind, but i can’t . They get worse instead of bet ter. Society is like a mill dam. It is always springing a leak, and as fast as you ntop one bole it breaks out at an other. Not hing but the grace of God. can keep jvxaea among the people, and even that docs not s em to circulate in this region, so I have quit.” The judge comforted him and told him net to despair, bid Griffin retired from tlio contest a sadder and wiser man. The strife and slander and back biting went on, and it took ponce war rants to keep the jieaee. No one man can reform society, and w ith many re formers it, is soon discovered that they need a little reformation themselves. Henry Ward Beecher was a great preacher and a reformer of social eon- duet, but fell from grace just ns Holornc*n did. Most of these reformers are in earnest, but there are cranks,and ere righteous overmuch. Park hurst brought schism and dbcord in his church by excessive, seal. Tom Dixon is doing the same thing by dabbling into polities. A respectable minority of Ills members are silver democrats, and his pulpit talk has insulted them. When a preacher assumes to know it a!! he Irscs his influence. Humility is the best ircdentinl a man of God can have. Vanity and conceit may rot be cins. but they are tra’ts that nobody forgives. Political preachers may get office, but they make enemies, and that is a bad sign. Drawing crowds ar.d creating a sensation is one thing, but, saving son’s through the power of the (Vv';>ol is another. 1 wisii every preacher would let |.clitics a lone, for when he abuses the democrats lie makes them mad, and it does not reconcile them if lie abuses the republicans and the popu lists, too. It is as if he raid: “Every- ’■•ody in a rascal blit t ••.” Of course we all get more or le* s excited about, pol ities, and let our | rejudiers get the better of our judgim rt, and at such times it. beenires 1 lie preacher to be enlm and serene and tolerant and to keep the jx*aee. I ere it eha.ged in the northern press that we have no fair elections in Georgia. I deny the alle gation and defy ihe nib gator. I have been on the watch for years, ami have no reason to susp"ct that any man. Mack <>r white, has 1 een d'"fratided of !:ls vote in my county. I believe that men have voted who were not entitled to vote, but it was no port of a scheme by the officials or managers, and was wholly unknown to tin in. I believe that the elections in Georgia an* s i fair as in any state in tin* union. The de feated party always cries, fraud, but never proves it. tain.ndor is a ehenl sol ace, lint, is hard to um'J», and (!:••• fur ther from home it travels the deeper it settles in the public mind. intolenan.ee is the lane of society, both in church and state. I was rend ing to-day some bitter things against women riding bicycles, am! in tin* same ] a pi r a temperate sensible ; i t : ele in dc- lem e of the sex. it wan. v.ritt; n by a woman a lady—and I concurred in all she raid. I ear sc” not hii gimm idest in a girl riding if she is mi..!'si 1_\ drrssel in skirts and deports In. t: If ir.n.lcstiy A fast girl w ill be fast, v b ; her she rid* s in skirts or bloomers, < r don’t ride at all. There, is more iuiimdcsly in pro mi senous surf 1anh.rp aed in the round dances of tin* ballroom than in ridbig the bike, ( ven in He omens. A fc w years ago I was shocked at the idi a of any de cent girl riding the v. hei 1, but i..y preju dices htixe | a-: ed ir.viiy. It r.ow seenm a graceful thing to do. and I adir.’rc the poetry of tiieir mot'on. My w ife in in love with the wheel.: nd say that if she could . HI l ack forty or fifty years she would have one, T\vo of Li rpninelson/ (•ami* over from lloue* in their wheels, and one moonlight tight t he u marked that if there was nobody to sec km - nho would go down to tiie tonn's eoui't mid take a round on the sly, "Merciful fa thers! Horribile d'etu! S'o ntt.^ur ly ran n is!” I exolahaed, “You eouldnh ride if you would, : id ypu shouldn't if you could, and you rkant even think about it. Now tIn'ii*,’’ and 1 departed those coasts and walked out in tin* hull to let my cholcrdow n. Pretty soon the boy* enme out e n the veranda, and f heard her laughing and tel'irg them how she arouses up* indignation. Ko 1 enmo line!; and made nut like 1 wan. fun ning. but I wmont. Bln* win tn me to take a round just to nee me fall off, I reckon, but I'm not going to try it. My time is past for athletics. I can chop wood and roll the iinlcych* nrd ride in the qnadrloycle, but this double spin ning wheel busine . don't suit an old man w ith a very hi| ’i center of gravity. It doesn't unit, a woman of that. kind, either. ' But after nil Hie ‘ ike la rather an ex* pensive toy. Th(? i ivs any that n good one. w ill last about w oycais. and in the meat)time the repni~s w ill average » few dollars a year, and • I don’t nee that P I* any elieiipcr In the long run than a 1mm*. But the price is entirely too high. A man who knows told me that the actual cost of a hundred-dollar bike was about $33. I know n broker who sold 42 in three months, and this com mission w as $17 on each and a bonus of $300 extra when his sales amounted to f3,000. Our jieople ore buying thou sands of them, and our money just pours into their hopper like it always does for everything they make and put at us. If it is not a Chicago exjiosition it is something else, and they keep us poor all the time.’ But Cobe says: “Thnt’.i all right, major for everything is adopt ed, and the world is obleeged to have poor folks to keep rich folks in money. If there wasent any chickens there won blent be any hawks. If there wasent any rats there wouldcnt be any cats, for everything is adopted.’’ “And if there wasent any girls there wouldcnt be any boys to fool ’em,” said'l. ”Jc* so. r.dz.akly so,” said Cobe, and he shifted his tobacco to the other jaw. But I can still work around the house and the garden. The flower pit was di lapidated, and my wife called my at-' tent ion to it several times. And so yes terday I repaired the broken grass and then got my can of red paint and gave t he sash a new coat. It looked fine and I was proud of it, and luxuriated in ad vance upon the praise she would bestow upon me, but when 1 came into her august presence she discovered some paint on my pants and vest. “Was there ever such a man in this world; painting in his best clothes—the only decent pants you have got,” and she looked afar off and sighed. “Well,” she continued, "take them off light now before the paint di icu and let me work on them. I never can get you to change your clothes when you are going to do dirty work.” So I eliang'd them and she got the ben zine and perfumed the room with It. and in half an hour iny garments wore cleaner than ever. “Wl.nt makes you do Ihat way," she said. “Why, my dear, I thought I could paint and not get a drop on my clothes, and I feel so much like a gentleman with my best clot lien on that I hate to take them off, hut 1 won’t do it any more." In course of time site got over it, and I got some praise after all. Things are now calm and serene.—Bill Arp, In Atlanta Con stitution. A GOOD CITIZEN. 8am Jr nos Enumerateo tho Good Qualities in His Make-Up. What r Yonny Man Mn*t Ko to Serve 111* Country Accept »bly - No Overproduc tion of Cood CltlKcti* —Demand (•renter Than Supply. LONDON’S "TOSHERS.* A Fccultnr ('Inns of I'nzllstt 1 u- borcr*. Shonmien, or shore-workers, they sometimes call themselves, biff their most familiar appellation is “toshers,” ar.d t he articles they pick up “tosh." They really belong to another weJl- ! nov. n class, the mudlarks, but consider tin i .: t Ives a grade or two above these latter, for the genuine tosher does not confine himself, as they do, totinv, ling through the Thanv's mud and picking up odd pieces of coal or wood, capper nails, bolts, iron and old rope. The tosher, when the. coast is clear of po lice, makes his w ay into the sewers, and will venture sometimes for miles in quest of valuables t hat oeciusicnnlly find tiieir way into them by the kitchen sink or the stitct grating. When alxnit to enter the sewers tin s:* men provide themselves with a jkiIc sew n or eight feet Jong, on one en:l of which there is a larg* iron hoe, a bag imriod on the back or a canvas apron tied round them, and a dark lantei n sim ilar to a polieemnn’s. This they Kt:op to their right breast, so that while waiK- irg upright through the large sewers 1 he light is thrown stiaghf in front. When they come to the branch sewers and have to stoop, the light is thrown directly at tiieir feet. As they make their way they use their hoe in the mud at t iieir feet, and in the crevices of the brickwork, and occasionally shillings and s ilver spoons find a temporary rest ing-place in the bag on tiieir back or in tiieir capacious coat pockets. The toshers generally go in gangs of tlir -e or four, both for the sake of com pany and the lietter to be able to de fend themselves from tiie rats with which tlie sewers swarm. When tliey (ome m ar a street grating they close their lanterns and watch an op port unity to slip | nst unnoticed, for otherwise a crowd of projile might, soon collect at tiie grating, whose presence would put tin* police on the alert. They find great plantities of money, copper money espe- e:.illy. in the oroviees of the brickwork a lit tie below the grating, and not in frequently shillings, half-crowns mid s -.p- uces, with an occasional siovereign or half-sovereign. When “in luck”-they may find articles ( f plate, spoons, bulk’s, silver-handled knives and forks, mugs and drinking cups, and now and then articles of jow- ■ iry. They generally ;i*so innnngc to liil tiieir bags with the more bulky nr- t ill’s found in their search, Kiich ns old ii’etnl. 1 voiies and ropes. These they dis pose of to marine storedeulers and rag- and-bone men, mid divide tin* p-oeeeds, nlong w it’i the ruins found, among the itiff' rent members of the gang. At one time the regular toshers used each to lain from 20 shillings to two |>runds n week, lint w ith the construction of new fewer:', grot d at the mouth, their In dustry is not so cosily exercised, r.nd is consequent !y less profitable.—1/uidon Mail. Six Pcnmln Fall DoRror*. ’I he Hill:: uni sight of female pall bearers was witnessed nt I’ort Jarvis. N. J.. the other afternoon r.t the funeral of Mis. l.rlen Gillson Ilistuin. wife of I'Tauk Hisstsm, of this place. Mrs. Hissan was a member of tiie Loyal letnplars of Temperance, m which or ganization she took an active part. The incnib'i 1 ; of the order attended the funeral services at the Methodist church in a I sidy a: d selected six wom en to officiate as p*il| beaiers. They carried Hit* casket to and from Hie hearse, th” church and the grave, per- foiiiiing tin* same service heretofore al lotted only to men. A Way of i:*r:in<*. “What. d;» you think of ail the new decadent literature, Osmund?" '■’I Ids is a free country. I don't have to thin of it nt nil.”—<!hiru|fQ Uncord. It is worth our while in these days of platforms and parties to consider what are the essential elements of a good citizen. The first essential is intelligence. The boy who grows up to manhood un trained and untaught, ignorant of the history of nations and jx-oplcs, who could not define the difference lx*- tween a monarchy and a republic, who does noj know the difference between organic law and statute law, who is a democrat or a republican ora populist or a greenbaeker, simply because his father was, with n blind adherence to partyism and absolutely ignorant of principles, can never be a good citizen. But the young man w ho walks up to the ballot box for the first time thor oughly posted on political economy and governmental principles, intelligently expressing his views in his ballot—he starts cut with one of the elements of a good citizen. Another element which lies at the very basis of good citizenship is pa triotism. love of country, devotion to her institutions, loyalty to her laws. The highest patriotism in the world is the patriotism thnt helps protect the innocent, that supjiorts Hie weak, that which heljis the. enforcement of law, the punishment of criminals, and allies himself with everything that tends to good government, law and order. I nm sure it is not the highest patriotism that lives disregardful of all the liest interests of cor govern ment and then when the declaration of war is made to shoulder a gun and go to the front and be willing to die for your country. lie is a much better citizen who is willing to live for his country. Best citizenship is not ex pressed in whooping for Old Glory while jiolitical speeches are being made or bursting firecrackers on the Fourth of July. The next element of good citizenship is a good moral character. Let a man live so thnt every deed and word of his life, but furnishes a maxim for uni versal application, so that if every man did and thought as he did the world would he purer and better. Let a man have personal honesty, eonimercinl hon esty, polit ical honesty, and honesty fas ten’d by a good conscience and a de termined heart and will, the honesty which makes a man’s word his lioiui. Let him have not only the morality which makes a man honest, hut the mor ality which is made up of the effects of Christianity, which scorns profan ity, despises unelcanness and shuns evil associations; the morality which is the result of purity of character, the morality which is able to resist temp tation, to conquer the besetting sins of life, and which lifts you above the shafts and slings of your enemies. - Another element of good citizenship so essential is courage—not the courage that makes a tow n bully of you, or that carries a pistol around in your hip pocket, but the moral heroism which had rather lie right than rich, had rather be jxjor than lx* a prince, thnt would rather carry around a good conscience than to own the world—a courage that lifts me above the slavery of partyism and takes me out from under the pressure of ma chine polities and blind prejudice and makes me w hat I am because what I air is right and keeps me from doing the wrong because it is wrong. I have no patience with the man who sells out; I have less patience with the man who in seared out. Many a man in this coun try would be a better citizen if he had the courage to be. Cow ardice and eon iumacy are tw in brothers. The courage that transforms opinions Into convie tion«. the courage then that follows con victions to the gallows, the block, or the ■take—the courage like Saint Paul had when ho said: “None, of these things mock me; neither count I‘my life dear unto myself.” Another element of good citizenship is a neighbor!}’ spirit. An intensely selfish man can never be a good citizen, but ho who looks not upon thnt which it. his own, but upon the things of another, a neighborly disposition which makes him a brother to every piun, a father to fvery orphan, a husband to every widow, fv good neighbor who always picks up tho wounded man by the wayside and carries him to the inn and foots the whole bill from start to finish. Another characteristic of n good citi zen is that he is a man who fosters nil good. He believes in the churches, in Sunday-schools, in Y. M. C. A.’s, and in every institution which tends toelevnte man nnd which tends to develop the moral side of man. I have no patience with the American citizen who gathers a lot of bums and thugs around him nnd who says the church is full of fools and hypocrites, nnd that Christianity is • failure. I believe an infidel is incapa ble of being a good citizen, for no man can be a friend to men who is nn enemy of God. This country lins never ele vated nn infidel to position or place, so far ns I know. Faith In God nnd a good moral character are essential to good citizenship. Another element of good citizenship is industry. Tho man who choose* ra tional employment and stays by his job, earning his bread by the sweat, of his brow, is a good citizen—not tho little ■took speculator who lives on puts and eallss bears nnd bulls, nnd ujih and downs from the New York, Chicago or BL Ijouhs stock exchanges, or th" wheat, corn and cotton future siieculations of this country. The mnm who to-day plowed nn acre of corn, or made a j»ir of shoes, or dug coal from under tho earth i* a lietter citizen than any mem ber of tlio New York stock exchange, everything else being equal. Industry I* essential to good citizenship. Another essential element togood cit izenship 1* sobriety. No habitual drink ing man is a good citizen. He furnkhe* not only a l ad example to his mCTi Ikwti but a despicable example to the lioys of all other homes. No good citizen will vote, for or jxvtronize thi-ealoons. for tho saloon is the worst enemy any govern ment can foster or any citizen patronize, for there is not. a wor e thing this side the gates of predition than nn open saloon. The drunkard would net be in the gutter but for the saloons. The saloon would not.be in the state but for the law that crea.ted it. The law and tiie saloon nnd the drunkard would not bo in existence but for the legislature .that made the law, and the leg’slaturc that made tiie law, that, created the saloon, that made t he drunkard would not be in existence but for the voter; end after all the voter is at the bot tom of every good tiling and every evil thing; and when good citizens only vote then we w ill rid this country of every evil thing and only create nnd maintain that which is good and that which makes good citizens. A good citizen is r.b-o a man of integ rity. IIis word gore-, his promises are sure. You can rely upon them. Ilia w ord is equal to the bond of amiH'on- nire; his character is worth more than sureties. A good citizen is a man who is a good husband to ids v. ife. a good fa ther to his children, a good son to hi.s mother, a good mnnlier of hi* church, nnd a man who is faithful in all his rela tion* of Irfo. fostering everything Mint is good, clKim pinning every thing that is noble, and everlastingly : t against everything that is bad. In every com munity in America we have, ge d citi zens. but we must Ijewnil the fact that thoy are not always in the majority. Good citizens make a good community, a gosl city, a good state, a ge</.l nation; bad citizens make a bad community, a Lad city, a bad state, a bad na.fon. Tito liest service a man can do bis count,vy is to turn out the boys from in home at the age of 21 w ith all the. c.'T'ontlnl ole- nicaits of good citizenship. The worst thing a mm can do for hi.s country is to turn out his boys from his borne as they rea-h maturity indolent, vicious, law less rascals. \Yc need good citizens. The. hcm''s of this country can furnish them if they will. There, is no demand for hordes nfcnv. We have largely supplied their places. Very little is the demand for wheat and corn and oats. They ray wo have over-production, but there is an un<l(*r-pvo(luet ion of good citizens. The. demand is great. Let the homes of this country go to work nnd supply the de mand, nnd Hie world w ill be richer and better in the coming years. RAM_r. JONHS. HANK THOMPSON’S DISCOVERY. ITo Mistook a Dndo Young KTnn for aa Fasy Mark. One day in the old days at Cheyenne, when it was stiil the terminus of th^ great Pacific road, there arrived, all by himself, a young man about 21 years old, who had sueh a lisp and looked so girlish that tin* rough crowd looked him over in astonishment It was Hank Thompson who finally walked up to tiie young man on the stre et corner and, grufily demanded: “Say, baby, are you looking for your nurstn’ hot tic?" “Tliir. do you e.ddret’i me?”r.s!:ed the. young man, as he straightened up. “You bet! AYhar’.i ycr me, and how did you happen to get lost ?” “My nta itli homo, tliir. and I am not loth! You are very rude, tliir!” “You are very rude, tliir!” mocked the terror, as he beckoned to tiie boys to close in and see the fun. “It theems to me, thir,” said tlio young man, as lie looked t lie other over, “thnt you don't like my loaks?" “No', I donth.” “Ami that you want to pick a futh with me?” “A fuss with a baby—ha! ha! ha!" roared Hank. “Tliir. I can take care of mythelf!” “Don’t want any’ ma to rock you to sleep, eh?” “No, tliir, and I want you to go away before I hurt vnu. When I’m riled I thoot!" “Hear him—he thoots!” shouted the terror, as he laughed all over. “Say, boys, what is this thing,anyway?” “Wnth you referring to me?” asked the young man. “Of course I was! Whose trunk or carpet bag did you escape from?” “Thir, 1 thee thntli you want me to thoot you, and therefore I will thoot unless you go away!” “He will thoot—ha! ha! ha! Some-, body git some sugar and a rag—mebbo he’s hungry.” “I don’t like to thoot, but I thee T must!” said the young man. and before anybody realized what he was at lie had pulled out a little popper of a pop and sent six bm kshot bullets into Hank Thompson’s anatomy. The big fellow staggered about and MI down, nnd, everybody thought he was done for until a doctor looked him over and said no vital sjKit had been touched. Hank lay w ith his eyes closed for a long, long time, but be finally opened them and faintly asked: “Boys, have I bin (’hot, or what?" "Yes, you’ve bin shot, answ ered one. “Who did it?” "The young feller that looks like a girl and lisps." “Great Scott, but. you don’t tell me!” “Yes, he driv six bullets right inter yer carcass. Hank, ”.11(1 you won’t can ter about for a month to enme." "And it was that feller?” “Yes.” "Wall. Vint my hbV! I’ve alius heard thnt untliiu' on the face of this nirth could lisp and shoot, too, but the fellers thnt told me hadn't never run up ng’in a baby!”—Chicago News. Acroantlnff for It. Bunker I w onder w hat made Hilllvcr walk out of the church during the tcr- mon. Hill—lie must bo a somnambulist.— Trutk. vfl Feeling the Pinch. "Ilello! Why don't you speak to a fellow? Feeling your oats, ain't you?" "No, my corns."—Up-to-Date. |