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THE DARLINGTON NEWS.
••FOR D8 PRINCIPLE IS PRINCIPLE—RIGHT IS RIGHT—YESTERDAY, TO-DAY. TO MORROW, FOREVER.’*
VOL. xn. NO 12.
DARLINGTON, S. 0.. THURSDAY, MARCH 25,1886.
WHOLE NO 585.
Not as I Will.
BlindfoldeJ and alone I stand
With unknown thresholds on each hand ;
The darkness deepens as I grope,
Atraid to fear, afraid to hope ;
Yet this one thing I learn to know
Each day more surely as I go —
That doors are opened, ways are made,
Burdens are lifted, or are laid
By some great law unseen and still
Unfalhomed purpose to fulfill,
••Not as I will.”
Blindfolded and alone I wait.
Loss seems too bitter, gain too late ;
Too heavy burdens in the load.
And too few helpers on the road;
And joy is weak, and grief is strong,
And rears and days ss long—so long 1
Yet this one thing I learn to know
Each day more surely as I go—
That I am glad the good and ill
By changeless laws are ordered still,
••Not as I will."
“Not as I will”—the sound grows sweet
Each time my lips the words repeat,
“Not as I will”—the daiknese feels
More safe than light when His thought
steals
Like whispered voice to calm and bless
All unrest and all loneliness.
••Not as I will,” because the Oue
Who loved us first and best has gone
Before us on the road, and still
For us must all His love fulfill—
‘•Not as we will.”
clcctfb J|turi).
Her Fair, False Face.
It all comes back to me now, the
otter misery and despair that came
to me when I knew my darling
was false to me—false to every
vow.
When 1 think even now of that
one great sorrow of my life, and of
the woe most bitter the woman I
loved brought to me—the woman
whose false love made me what 1
am to-day, master of the stateliest
borne, owner of countless wealth,
but alas! wifeless and chiidlecs—a
lonely, gloomy man.
I tell you my story, and the story
ot others as well; but I must tell
you it iu my own way, so I will be
gin at the beginning:—
I was only twenty-five when I
first met Arelie Cameron, and she
was then a beautiful girl of eigh
teen—a simple, gentle girl, I be
lieved, who knew nothing of vanity
or ambition, or anything that
women of the world hold dear.
I was naturally romantic, and,
like the “Lord of Rosea,” my great
est ambition was to be loved for
myself alone; not that I had very
much to tempt a woman with, but
1 was the youngest son of a wealthy
family, and my mother’s fortune—a
considerable sum—became mine at
ber death
I never told Arelie Cameron this;
I let her think me a struggling law
yer, and as such 1 wooed and wou
her. I made her my wife, and took
ber to a rose embowered cottage,
and our honey moou was to me a
dream of delight; and if any dis
satisfaction was felt by Arelie she
□ever gave the slightest sign of it
tome; but I know now that a
tempest of passion and bitteruess
was rising within her toward me,
and why! Because another bad
fallen iu love with her beautiful
face—another to whom she never
mentioned me nor ber own mar
riage. This I learned afterward,
and more than this—for I learned
of stolen meetings by moonlight, of
kisses and caresses between my
wife and ber lover.
1 believed I bad tested her love
enough, and I went away for a few
days; my intention being to tell
my people of my marriage. I did
so, and teceived their assurance ot
a welcome for try beautiful wife;
and then, with high-beating heart,
and pulses thrilling as I pictured
bow the glad light would leap to
Arelie’seyes when we met, pictured
ber delight at the costly dresses
and jewels I bad ordered, her child
like astonishment at the beauty and
elegance cf the new borne to which
I wonld bring her.
It was June; the red roses bloom-
«d fragrant as they twined aronud
the columns of the rustic veranda
and mixed their rich perfume with
the faint odor ef hyacinth and
mignonette. I almost ran np the
garden path in my eagerness to
clasp my darling to my hert. No
thought came to me then, as I stood
at the door with sunshine aronud
me, of the horror that awaited me
•when it wonld open.
Almost impatiently I rang the
bell for the second time, and glanc
ed at the windows to see if my
darling** face was smiling down
upon me. Perhaps she bad seen
me and was coming to the door
berself. Bat no; the footstep was
slow and heavy—slow and heavy
even for Jane, 1 thought Jane was
an old servant in my father’s fami
ly, whom 1 brought to the cottsge,
bidding her keep my secret for a
while. As she opened the door
something in her face which was
very pale, I noticed, strnck a chill
to my heart.
“What is it, Jane 1” I inquired
anxiously. “Is yoor mistress ill F
What is the matter, Janef For
God’s sake, speak J”
i went to q>as8 her, but she
caught my arm, and burst into
tears.
“U Master Gay ! Master Gay !”
she cried. “She has—gone without
a word to me ; but she lift this for
you.”
Her hand trembled as she drew
out the note bearing my name.
Poor old soul I she ' more than
suspected the fatal truth.
Mechanically I opened the letter;
bnt not even at the first reading
did 1 realize what bad befallen me.
The woman I worshipped, the wife
I adored, bad fled from ber borne
to another I The words of the note
almost stunned me. A woman I
believed pure as a lily bad penned
them, and the thought that I could
have loved a woman capable of
writing them, made my soul sick.
She wrote:
“1 made a fool of myself when I
became yonr wife. I would never
have done so, oi ly I thought you
were making believe poverty, for I
had heard a bint of things you bad
done before you met me that did
not speak for lack of gold ; bnt I
find now, too late, however, for my
satisfaction, that you really are no
more nor less than what* I believed
was only pretence, and so I have
left yon. I cannot say much more
'ban that I never loved you, and
that 1 worship the lover with whom
I have fled, and he can give me
wealth and position, tor be does
not dream I am a wife. It is not
likely that you will seek me. I
know you too well for that. So—
au revoir, 1 was going to say, bnt
remembering that means till we
meet again, which I hope from the
bottom of my soul we never shall, 1
say instead, good by.”
I i usbed up the stairs, but there
was very little sigu of confusion or
disorder there. It must have been
well meditated on, and no sudden
decision come to. Ab, Heaven!
she bad gone calmly, almost sys
tematically, about her elopement.
I sat down stunned for the time
being. I bad loved her, and my
love died bard. One moment I lelt
I mast seek Iter—1 could not live
without her—the next I scorned
the thought, angry at myself for its
entering my mind. One instant I
would follow her and reclaim her—
bring her back to the path from
which she had strayed—rhe next I
loathed the thought of her.
The night passed on, and still 1
wrestled with my agony ; the mid
night bells rang out, and still 1 sat
gazing into darkness. Later still,
Jane brought me a cup of chocolate,
which I drank mechanically with
on' a word.
When morning dawned I still sat
iu the one chair where all night 1
bad reviewed my dishonor. I rang
the bell and Jane came in.'
“O, Master Guy, do not take it
so hard!”
In that moment ber humble sym
pathy was more bearable than that
of au equal w< uld have been, for as
shes|>oke the tears filled her kindly
eyes.
“I will survive it, Jane.”
“Yes, yes, my boy. Along with
your mothei’s name you have her
streng.h ’’
“She has dishonored a proud
name, Jane. I feel worse than bad
I borne my father’s ”
When 1 bad inherited my moth
er’s money I had to t ike her family
name as mine, and it was a prouder
name even than my father’s So,
while my brother was Yernon
Fleming, I was Guy Howard.
“I am going away, Jane,” I R"id ;
“but you are to keep this place, ami
if my—it your mistress comes back,
remember she.is your mistress till,
and that this place is hers 1 will
send you money to keep everythin':
as it is, and if I ever return I will
come here. Keep silent concerning
everything, and —good-by.”
The next day I sailed for the new
world, intending to remain for some
time. 1 bad only been out r ne short
month when a letter came from
home—au imperative summons to
return. It contained the news of
Vernon’s marriage to a beautiful
dark-eyed woman whom none of
them bad known or ever heard of
before—an absolute stranger, in
fact; and along with this were the
tidings that my father lay at tbe<
point of death—the doctors had
given him up.
At my father’s death my brother
would inherit ail the vast estates
of the Flemings. For, they were
strictly entailed.
I went back again, perfectly am-
bitiouless, for every hope of my life
bad fled with Arelie’s falseness—
went back to whatf
It seems foolish, after all, to open
old sores, but the memory of that
home coming is back with me now.
even stronger than the memory ot
tbe horrors that followed. There
fore I must tell it.
I went first to see my father Hr
was propped up with pillows in the
bed, bis face ghastly. Ab, yes;
death bad most surely placed his
band upon him. He looked at me
with eyes in which a strange lustre
gleamed. A cry broke from my
lips. That glare, that strange
twitching of tbe muscles, I bad
seen once before in India. My
fetber bad been potymed bjr onepf
the most subtle drugs known to
science—its effect, indeed, almost
unknown, save by some oue who
had seen another die with it.
My heart grew cold with horror-
horror unspeakable! But why was
it my thoughts reverted to the beau
tiful wife of my brother t
“My God !” 1 cried. “Am I too
late to rave him F
I knew tbe antidote; but was it
too late to nseitf Scarcely heed
ing tbe questions asked, I went and
got the antidote, whidh, if he were
not too far gone, wonld save him.
As I came up the avenue again,
my thoughts full of my father, a
lady came along the shady path be
low ; a tall graceful woman, I saw
at a glance, with something strange
ly familiar about her carriage. She
came out from the dense gbadow,
and as she did so my brother over
took me, and bis eyes fell on tbe
lady as well, who at that moment
stepped into tbe sunshine.
“That is my wife, Gay,” he said.
“Is she not beautiful enough to
make pardonable my mesalliance,
as they call itF
Beautiful enough! Ab, heavens!
Yes, for that moment I saw the per
fect features, the crown of wavy
hair, the crimson curving lips of the
woman I bad loved. The dark eyes
of my false wife were looking into
mine.
A sharp cry left my lips. My
eyes did not deceive me. Clad in
silken robes and costly lace, Arelie
stood before me. Stood before me
only for a moment, and then 1 saw
her lips grow white, ber face grow
pallid, heard the low, frightened
cry, saw tbe passionate, pleading
look; tbe next moment she bad
fallen at our feet.
My brother looked at me.
••You have frightened her, Guy
by the way you looked at her. I
think you must be crazy. You did
not seem to know what you were
iloing.”
He lifted Arelie iu bis arms and
carried her to the bouse, while I
followed, almost doubting the whole
occurence. First I went to my
father’s room and gave him the
drops I had gone for, then I went
down to the library to seek Vernon
and tell him Arelie’s story ; and I
entered by the side door, and came
face to face with Arelie, who held
an oi»en letter in her hand.
“What do you intend to do!”
she said, the paper dropping from
her fingers, which I saw at a glance
was my father’s will, for be owned
other wealth besides the entailed
estate.
At this instant a servant entered,
and Arelie stole out without hear-
ing my answer. I left the library
then as we’l, and went out into the
grounds, walking up and down in
deep thought, when the sweep of a
dress told me some one was near,
and I turned to meet ber again.
“You will spare me, Guy! You
will not betray meF she cried,
clasping my arm.
1 shook her off.
“Do you think I wonld be a party
to your crime F I asked. But still
I shrank from telling Vernon, for
he was a perfect devil when his
temper was roused. “Meet me
here to-morrow night,” I said, “and
I will give you my decision; bnt
Arelie, dare to attempt my father’s
IRe again, and as* snre as there is a
God above me, I will band you over
to the law 1 Oh woman ! could you
not wait for wealth and position a
few short years!
I did not dream that at this mo
ment a pair of eyes—Vernon’s eyes,
dark with sudden born jealous rage
—were fixed upon us ; bat Arelie
mast have seen them. She pushed
me ha k.
“You must not tempt me to leave
my husband, Guy Howard !” she
cried. “Vernon, where are yon, to
save me from this man F
“You wonld steal my wife from
me, you scoundrel!” I beard Ver
non’s voice cry, as he leaped forward
beside ns. “Bnt I will send a bul
let through yonr cowardly heart.”
I saw a pistol gleam in the air. I
felt a sharp, sudden pain in my side,
then as I fell I thongbt I beard a
woman’s scream, and tbe second
report of a pistol, and 1 remember
ed no more.
When I awoke to consciousness
I was what I am now—tbe lonely
master of th s vast estate, for I bad
been too late to save my father’s
life, and as Vernon bad raised the
revolver the trigger bad canght in
an overhanging bongh, and tbe
other bullet had entered bis own
heart
I never married again. People
call me a misanthrope, bnt never,
thank God, a cynie, and wonder
wbyitisso; but none ever dream
of what Vernon’s wife bad been to
me.
I never married, though I was at
liberty to do so, for after my re
covery Arelie went away, and four
years afterward I looked opon her
dead face, all its beauty marred, all
its delicate perfection gone, by the
life she bad led.
This is the story of Fleming Hall,
and tbe reason why I, its master,
have never been charmed again by
tbe light of woman’s eyes, nor won
by a smile 90 ber lips.
Free Tuition and the 8. C. College.
A REPLY TO OBJECTIONS.
f V Y. J. Alexander, in Baptiit Courier.]
There has been a good deal of
Ate-sided discussion on this subject
in the Baptwf'Cowritr during the
past lew months, and from the pre
sent indications it looks as if such
discussion might go 011 indefinitely.
Scarcely a thing is said about the
College but it is made a text for ad
verse criticism Your paper seems
to have fallen into a state of oh ion
ic complaint against the College.
It is not your fault, Mr. Editor,
that this is so. You have always
been liberal and generous and have
freely opened your columns to tbe
discussion of all important subjects.
The fault, if fault there be, rests
with those who might at any time
have entered the lists if they bad
chosen to do so. The time has come
for fhe discussion to become two-
sided. The numerous objections,
some against the very existence of
tbe State College, others against its
policy of free tuition, and still oth
ers against the policy of patroniz
ing it, have been put forth with a
good deal of force and feeling. It
is now time to examine them, and
see wbat force there is in them. It
is due to the readers of vour paper
that such an examination should be
made ; for it is obvious that the at
tempt will be made to bring tbe
matter of free tuition in the State
College prominently forward in the
next canvass. So be it; but let ns
as intelligent citizens look carefully
into the matter, and be able to give
a reason for the faith that is in us.
Many have received the impression
that if free tuition in tbe State Col
lege were abolished, the great dif
ficulty in the way of the prosperity
of the denominational colleges
would be removed. Others seem to
imagine that by the same means a
considerable part ot the heavy bur
den of taxation would be removed.
Still others profess to believe that
the State College exist? for the sole
or chief advantage of the rich, and
that tbe poor are taxed and oppress
ed to educate the rich. Are these
things true! Letussee.
In considering the objections to
tbe South Carolina College and its
policy, it will be better, foi the sake
of method, to begin at the begin
ning, and examine tbe fundamental
objection first. This objection is
made against tbe very existence ot
tbe College. “The State has 110
business with a College,” is the lan
guage of tbe objection in a recent
issue of the liuptiat Courier. This
objection is of recent date. Until
quite recently the opponents of tree
tuition have professod ihemselves
as being friendly to the College,
their only objection being to its free
tuition policy. But now tbe right ot
the College to exist is questioned,
or, rather, flatly denied. The writer
does not tell us on what grounds be
objects to tbe existence of the Col
lege. I hope he will do so. I can
not believe that he is one of those
doctrinaires who accept the laisser
faire theory of government as a uni
versa! principle. The statement
that be beLeves in free common
schools show that he is not. But
once admit that it is right for the
State to provide free common
schools for tbe people, and the
question of providing free high
schools or colleges is no longer oue
of principle, but of policy. How
ever, 1 cannot criticise my friend’s
opinion, for a mere opinion is not
amenable to criticism. I refer to
it now because I believe its author
does but voice the opinion of many
others. Tbe question as the right
of the State College to exist has
not yet come to the front, but there
are good reasons for believing that
it is coming to tha front, and that
tbe free-tuition policy is a mere ont-
post to be captured before tbe cita
del is itself attacked. If indeed,
the abolition of free tuition should
accomplish the sanguine expectioiis
of its advocates, I believe they
would be content to stop there. But
these expectations are, as I (relieve,
and in a future article will attempt
to show, doomed to bitterdisappoin *
ruent, ami this very disappoint
ment will lead to the desire and at
tempt to do away with tbe College.
Itistrne that many of those who
are opposed to free tuition are
among the warmest friends of the
College, and would, were such an
attempt made, be among tbe fore
most to resist it; but these, it is to
be feaied, do not constitute tbe ma
jority.
When brethren publicly say that
“tbe State has no business with a
College,” they mast not be surpris
ed if the question is publicly raised
whether tbe Baptist denomination
has any business with a college.
Some of our moet thoughtful breth
ren are asking that question, and
are answering it in the negative.
They think that instead ot making
another doubtful attempt to endow
Furman University,, it would be far
less expensive, and better policy
generally, tor oar denomination to
avail itaelf of tbe State College. U
is not for me 10 express an opinion
on this subject; 1 merely suggest
the question whether it would not
be well for tbe denomination to con
sider this question, and to consider
it now. Nothing is ever gained by
abutting one’s eyes to facts ; and it
is a fact that tbe belief is taking
root in the minds of some of our
thoughtful aud influential brethren
that, however necessary denomina
tional colleges may have been iu tbe
past, they are no longer a necessity,
but rather an ex|»ensive luxury. If
every Baptist in the State who en
dorses this sentiment would speak
out, 1 think there are many people
who would be not only surprised
but start! 1 , d.
There are many who will not
thank me for calling attention to
these facts, and I should not have
done so had not the right to exist
of the State College been challeug
ed and denied. Tbe gauntlet has
been thrown down; there are those
who will lake it up and hold them
selves ready to “fight it out on that
line if it takes all summer.”
In my next article l shall consid
er the objections to free tuition.
The Last Words of a Drunkard.
The following extracts were tak
en from one of tho lectures of J. J.
Talbot, who recently died from the
effects ot a drunken debauch at
Elkhart, Indiana:
“Bat now the struggle is over. 1
can survey the field aud measure
the losses. I had lost posiiiou high
and holy. The demon tore from
around me the robes of my sacred
office aud sent me out churcbless
and Godless, a very hissing and by
word among men. Afterward 1 bad
a business large aud lucrative, aud
my voice was heard iu large courts,
pleading tor jus'.ice, mercy aud
right. But the dust gathered on
my books, and uo footfalls crossed
tbe threshold of tbe drunkard’s
oflice. I bad money ample for all
necessities, but it took wings, and
wer.t to feed tbe coffers of tbe devil
which possesst'd me. I bad a home
adorned with all that wealth could
buy. Tbe devil crossed tbe thres
hold and the light faded from its
chambers; the fire went out on the
holiest alters, aud leading me from
the portals, despair walked forth
with me, aud sorrow and anguish
lingered within. I had children—
beautiful to me, at least, as a dream
of tbe morning—and they bail so
entwined themselves around their
father’s heart that no matter where
it might wander, even it came back
to them 011 the wings of a father’s
undying love. The destroyer took
their hand in bis and led them
away. I had a wife whose charms
ot mind aud person were such that
to see her was to remember her, aud
to know her was to love her. Thir
teen years we walked tbe ragged
path ot life together, rejoicing in
its sunshine aud sorrowing iu its
shade. The internal monster would
not even spare me this.
“I had a mother who for long
years had not left her chair, a vic
tim of sufleriug aud disease, her
choicest delight was in reflecting
that the lessons taught at her knees
bad taken root iu the heart of her
youngest born, and that he was use
iul to his fellows, and au honor to
ber who bore him. But the thun
der bolt reached even there and did
its cruel work. Other days may
cure all hut this. Ah, me! never
a reproach from those lips; only a
shadow of unspoken grief gather
ing on her dear old face;, only a ten.
der hand laid more lovingly upon
my head; only a closer clinging to
tbe cross, only a piteous appeal to
heaven if her cup was not at last
full. And while her boy raged in
bis wild delirLm two thousand
miles away, the pitying angels push
ed the goldeu gates ajar, and the
mother of tbe drunkard entered
into rest. Aud thus I stand a cler
gyman without a church, a barris
ter without a brief or business, a
father without a child, a husband
without a wife, a sou without a pa
rent, a man without hope—all swal
lowed up iu the maelstrom of
drink.”
A Hereditary Ailment.
These are Solid Facts.
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known. They act surely and quick
ly, every bottle guaranteed to give
entire satisfaction or money refund
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Willcox k Co.
Bueklea’s Arnica Salve.
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cox k Co.
“We never see a tear in the eye,"
says a celebrated writer, “bat we
are reminded ef a warm heart.” ■
A great big overgrown tough en
tered a Grand River avenue saloon
recently in search of gore. He was
“primed,” and be asserted that he
was ugly. He even acknowled that
he intended to hart somebody be
fore be got out, and if wonld be au
injury requiring the united service
of at least three eminent surgeons.
The barkeeper was reading a novel,
head down and elbows on the bar,
and Ire did not look up as tbe big
tough pounded on the cherry and
called “Set ’em up! I tell you to
set ’em up for all handa!’’
Au old farmer who had beeu
warming bis shins got upand sneak
ed out. He said be didn’t propose
to go back home to Maria a cripple
foi life He was followed by a lan
ky youth with brick colored hair,
who observed that the doctor bad
forbidden him to fight for the next
three weeks.
“Are you going to set ’em up !”
howled the tough as he pounded
some more.
“No,” was the qniet reply.
“Then tbe consequences lie upon
your own head !”
With this he peeled his coat, and
the two remaining men bolted for
the door. One excused himself on
the giouuds that he didn’t want to
hurt anybody, aud the other said
he had just licked two men up the
street aud was waiting for his sec
ond wind. As they went out the
though npset a table, and he was
about to overthrow the stove when
the little barkeeper shut up his
book with a sigh, came from behind
the bar, and exhibited signs of life
He took tbe tough by the ear and
said:
“Two dollars!”
“What for !”
“Damages!’
Two silver dollars were banded
over, aud then he led the big fellow
out doors a.id marched him up and
down tbe walk three or four times
to show him off. By aud by he stood
him on tbe gutter, gave him a
tremendous kick, and observed :
“You go home!”
The big lellow waded through
the mud to the opposite side and
stood aud looked back
One of the spectators approached
him and said:
“You didn’t make much of a
fight.”
“I didn’t, eh ! Well, now, I want
you to understand that I showed
more clear grit in this little fracas
than ever before iu my life !”
“Then you aren’t much of a fight
er.”
“Bay!” replied tbe man as be
dropped bis voice to a whisper,
“you are deadrigbt! I go iu all
right but tbe miuute I’m tackled
my saud gives out. 1 believe it’s
heredititary, and I’m going to a
doctor to be examined.”
“You go home!” shouted the bar
keeper.
‘ Yes—I’m going—good day I’’
And he went off without once
turning to look behind him.
The Man who Writes Congressmen’s
Speeches.
(Washington Loiter to N. Y. Telegram.)
Col. Carter, tbe character who
wiites speeches for Congressmen,
is having a good time this season.
Tbe silver question lias beeu a per
fect mine for him. There are seven
ty men who arc now down on the
Speaker’s list for speeches on this
question, aud it is said that not a
tew of them came from Mr. Carter’s
l>eu. Mr. Carter, who is quite deal,
also does a great deal of work for
attorneys. He has probably writ
ten more speeches than any man in
this country. His writing is by no
means confined to any particular
set of subjects. He writes upon all
tbe topics coming before Congress.
The other day in conversation Mr.
Carter said: “I write speedes
upon all sorts of subjects, but my
bobby is sermous 1 love to write
sermons. Yes, I have quite au
exteusive patronage in this Hue
from clergy men all over tbe oouu-
try. A clergyman gets tired, and
yet be knows bis congregation will
expect a brilliant sermon from him
next Bnnday. He sends to me and
I write it for him. Very often 1
can give him some novel ideas on
the subject. I certainly do eqjoy
writing a sermon 1 do not care
much about the Unitarian aud Uni-
versalist variety, but I fairly revel
in the old time Methodist kind.”
Carter is one of tbe characters at
the Capitol. There are others who
write speeches occasionally, bat be
is the only man who makes his liv
ing exclusively from this peculiar
and novel kind of work.
job Btmni 1 .
bur job dopartmout iaiupplied with ovorj
facility BMoaaary to oaablo no to teapot#
both m to price and qaalitj of work, with evoa
tbooo of tho oitioa, and wo guaraatoo aatio*
faction in ootry partioularorobargo nothing
for our work. Wo art always proparod to
qjl order* at abort notioe for Blanks. Bill
Hoad*, Letter Heads, Garde, Hand Lilt*
Foetera, Circulars, Pamphlet*. As.
All job work muet be paid for
Oash on Delivery
Last Sunday Rev. M. B. Broad-
dus sent in bis resignation aa pas-
tot of tbe Baptist Church at Cam
den, to take effect on May lat, next-
Mr. Broaddns has accepted a call to
Glaacow, Missouri, to which place
he expecta to go in May. Tbe
church in Camden regret to part
with their sealone and eateemed
paator, who has worked faithfully
tbe cause ot tbe church in that
place for more than two yeara past.
A committee has been api>0|Uted to
draft suitable resolnttooa iu tbe asv-
erauoe of their connection aa
tor and people.
Pearls of Thought.
Walk as if you were conscious
that your body has a soul iu it.
If a life will bear examination in
every boar of it, it is pure indeed.
If any one says ill of yon, let yoor
life be so that none will belitve him.
He who strives alter a long and
pleasant form of life must seek to
attain continued equanimity.
Whatever else we neglect, let us
keep np the habit of commuuioo
with God. Prayer is the key of the
position.
If a man empties bis purse ioto
his bead, uo man can take it away
from him. An investment in kuowl-
edge always pays the best interest.
Let every man take care how ha
«|>eaks and writes of honest people,
and not i-et down at a venture tha
first thing that comes uppermost.
Tbe mau who is suspicious lives
iu a constant state of nubappiuess.
It would be better for his peace of
mind to bo too trustinl than to bo
too guarded.
If tby friends be of better quality
than thyself, thou uiayest be sors
of two things; the fit at that they will
be more carelnl to keep thy coun
sel, because they have much more
to lose than thou hast; the second
they will esteem thoe for thyself,
and not for that thou dost possess.
A Remarkable Escape.
Mrs. Mary A. Dailey, of Tank-
bannock. Pa., was afflicted tor six
years with Asthma aud Bronchitis,
daring which time the best physi
cians could give uo relief. Her
life was despaired of, until iu last
October she procured a Bottle of
Dr. King’s New Discovery, when
immediate relief was felt, aud by
continuing its use for a short time
she was completely cored, gaining
in flesh 50 lbs. in a few months.
Free Trial Bottles of this certain
cure of all Throat aud Lang Dis
eases at Willcox k Co’s. Drag Store.
Large Bottlss $1.00
Things Worth the Doing.
To learn to think aud act for your
self.
To respect gray hairs, especially
oar own.
To’waste nothing, neither money,
time not talent.
It you have a place of business to
be found there when wanted.
To spare when you are young
that you may spend when you are
old.
To bear little trials patiently that
you may learn how to bear great
ones.
To be self reliant and not taka
too much advice, but rather depend
on yonrself.
To keep alive in your breast that
little spark of celestial bre called
cotiscieuce.
To learn to say no; it will be of
more service to you than to be able
to read Latin.
To do all the good you can in
this world and make as little noise
about it as possible.
To stick to your own opinion if
yon hare one, allowing others, of
coarse, tbe same liberty to stick to
tbeirs.
Rains In Central America.
Exteusive rains have been dis
closed by the boundary survey be
tween Guatemala and Mexico. Thai
region was evidently densely inhab
ited iu ancient times, but is now al
most wholly denuded of soil. Tnat
tbe process ot denudation had be
gun before tbe abandonment
of tbe region is shown by the walli
aud terraces evidently bnilt to check
it, aud still retain email Uliag«
patches. The ruins consist main y
ot stone floors raised above th<
ground, upon which, no doubt,
lighter superstructures were bqilt
These ruins are considered older
than the more familiar onea in Yit
catau.
“Old Sorrel” is Dead.
Washington, March 15.—A dis
patch from Richmond auuoanoat
that Stonewall Jackson’s old chari
er died at the Confederate Soldiers’
Home, Richmond, this morning, of
old age. It is the intention of tha
governors of the Home to have a
cast made of the horse, and to have
bia skin staffed and bis skeleton
mounted.
All scientists kpow the proaeneas
ofinsecta to deposit tueir eggs in
wi3<
decayed fruit. What create* 1
in the human body f Think of thia
and give Shricer’s Indian Vermi
fuge occasionally to your children.
When a wash boiler begins to
mat and la still too goo-1 to cast
aside, makes goodaised bag of
strong muslin or old bed ticking,
put the clothes to be boiWiutoit,
and save them from rust.
Neat boxes should either be thor-
OQgbly cleansed aud