Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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AUTOMOBILI * * * * By Howard 4 HREE weeks before 0 Thanksgiving- there was a I 0 T 0 consultation among the in mates of the Morrisville 'Wgy poorhouse. It was.held in the common sitting-room. where the men and women were allowed to gath- t - r when they were not eating or sleep ing. About all the unfortunates in the almshouse had to do was to eat and i sleep; a few worked about the institu tion or in the garden. The convention opened rather unexpectedly, when Sarah Tooker remarked: "What d'ye s'pose we'll have for Thanksgivin All the others turned and looked at br. for Sarah was the latest arrival, t and consequently new to the regula- I tions governing the Morrisville poor- V bous,.-. "Do they feed us on turkey or chick en't" she continued. "I'm a little mite fouder of turkey myself, but I s'pose 1 tcan eat chicken on a pinch." "Ho: ho:" laughed Rodney Eckert. t "Ho: ho!" an-d his two remaining teeth rattled together like corn in a parch ing-pan. "Turkey! Chicken: Land love ye, Sarah Tooker! If it ain't roast beef it'll be lamb stew. and if it ain't lamb stew it'll le roast beef, an' ye can j ke. ypur choice. I know. I've been here nich onto fourteen year now. S Most likely it'll be lamb stew. I call to riud how we had roast beef last -~ a r." Eight other old men and ten other old womon n-odded their beads in grave 1 assont. . Thay also knew, from more or less lor_: expierience. what the Thankg:vng (innicr would be. It was N Only i d:fferent froi the usual t mels of s bread and tea, served r reguilriy at the-poorhouse. Only Sarah hope'd for a change. The others ti::i:gh: Tli!' about it. La ma nw." said Sarah. p:aint ively. "Why. the idea: Thanksgiving. too! t W(i. all i've got to say is, that it ain't I what I'm used to. not by a good deal. I I (ont s:'e why we c:,an't have a.chick- i en potpir." she tiuisLed, with a little sigh. c "Don't ist Zeke Jedeil hear ye." eau- V tioned Bd Tunk-ert. "As long as te's 1 been superintendent of this poorhouse, C be can't abide to have any one find fault with the eatin'. Not that we need 1o. most times; but since ye t brought up the Thanksgivin' subject. - it kinder runs in my head. Tur'key: . Ab: Umi:" .\My. oh. my:' Thanksgivin', an' lamb stew:" repeated Sarah. "It doesn't v seem reasonable. Before I had to ' come here I wa-s used to a big turkey for dinn'r--a big, fat. brown turkey." h. "If ye'd .inst leave off mentioning I suc(h things I'd be obliged to ye," saida Tod Elkum,. with a little qJuaver in his a voice.. He awoke from the doze he and been in. "It makes a body feel s hungryv." he went on. " 'Specialiv C w-hen the feastia' time's so near. If 2 it's all the' same. ye might' mention V somiethin' about bein' shipwrecked on a a deser't isand, withi nothin' to eat but 3 boot-!e-gs an' seaweed. That'll give es apneti:es for' hamb stew," he con- t .eluded. hL A silence concluded.- while each one t of tife twehtyv Inmates of the poor Louse was bmsy with his or her own ~ -sad thouants. . Sarah 'Tooke' :gged her head de- r jctediy. It was a new experience for u her, for she had been in good circoun staies until failing fortunes and the o dcath of all her: relatives had obliged t her to seek refuge in that place dread- t ed by ill the :aged. t 'It does se-em a pity we cant cele brate for once.' mused Tod Elkuinl, as I he walked out into the yard. "I would f relish a niice. brown slice of turkey, with pierty of gravy. an' lots of dress- 1 in'. And I wouldn't mind some cran- C berry sauce. too). But I s'pose th' z selectmen ain't got money to waste on such ir'ills." Out on the pleasant country road a t great red automobile rushed by, rais- I ing a cloud of dust. The State turn- t p)ike passed through .dorrisville. "I'll -bee those folks ain't worryin' about where their turkey is comin' f from.' went on Tod. "Well, we can't all be rich, and maybe it's a good thing."' He str'aled toward the road, walk- I iug slowy,' t'or his limbs were feeble from age. He enjoyed the crisp air 1 of November and the genial sun, which : tempered the rather cool afternoon. 'here was theO delightful smell of au: 'umn. r~:ng from the brow'n earth. t~id the' dried! leaves rattled as he trodh on them. He r'eached the road and turnedC tow'ard the villare. The dust from 1 the au:tomobile was still flying lazily: in thC suli;:ht. A little way ahead! To~d sanw a :i;:ure. It was that of a an, and "' as shaking his staff at I some:: inu a h distance. When Trod ('mt 1: ::' hie rCcogn)ized'a Hank( "What:'s the troubb:'" asked 'Tod.: "Somehm-iy ' try:n' to runm over y'e': Uiank. --wh:::d d : do? lns 'ill ye''' in U::eeom..UThere's.,'J.d't' doll'a's and a ial i cjtuld ha. e haid .ust as -- s em i::' :.aaO iS':I ." conl ed41 -'lU w'a~rant the next one don't get ..w1 fr'on: mc!" threatened Hank. Hie1 TRAP. * * * P. Garis. valked on. while Tod strolled slowly fter him. - But the sturdy legs of the marshal oon proved too fast for the older mau, nd Tod dropped behind. "If I see any of them autobilers goin 0o i. _t. -hall I notify ye?" called out 'od after the retreating marshal. "Yes. or ye can arrest 'em yourself. f ye want to," answered Hank. "No aw again' it. But ye'd better be care ul. It takes some one with a show f authority to bring 'em to a halt." "Well. I'll let ye know if I see any f 'em." said Tod. as he kept on with ialting pace. The days came and went. Life con inued the same , in the Morrisville oorhouse. There was the same soul) nd tea and bread. The little excite ient caused by the mention of a 'anksgiving feast had died out. A veek before the holiday Zeke Jedill. he superintendent, called on Thomas enkins. the chairman of the board of own selectmen. "What'll I give the inmates for 'hanksgiving?" asked Zeke. "What did they have last year?' sked Mr. Jenkins. "Roast beef and potatoes," answered eke. "Beef's high and funds are low,' aid Mr. Jenkins. "Lamb's cheaper. ive 'em lamb stew." "They had that year before last,' entured Zeke. "Well. they'll forget it by this time,' ejoined 'Mr. Jenkins. "IHumph! You don't know 'em as vell as I do." said Zeke. But there 'as no appealing from the decision of he chairman. and the superintendent repared to give a big dinner of lamb tew -to his charges. Thanksgiving was three days off. |ven Sarah Tooker. most hopeful of 11. had given up. and resigned herself o lamb stew. -The others. after the rief delights of an almost wild antici ation. had fallen back into their usual pathy. But some new spirit seemed awak ed in Tod Elkum. He ?lept less than sual. and when True Kimball wanted i to engage in the usual game of beckers one afternoon Tod declined. "What ye goin' to do?" asked True. "I got a little matter o' business to nd to down the road," answered Tod, nd he hurried~ away as fast as his s would carry him. He was muttering to himself. "If it works, there ain't any reason by we sha'n't all have turkey." he as saying, softly. "If I've only got mption enough to do it. And I will ae! I will: Just to think-a lamb ew for Thanksgivin'! -I never re ized before what it meant. It's all ong o' Sarah Tooker's suggestin' it." Tod walked along the State road. anning the fence closely. The weath . although crisp, was clear, and there as no sign of snow yet. The autu-mn as late that year. and coaching and tomobile parties from the cities near orrisville were frequent.. "I guess that'll do." said Tod. as he ok hold of a long, heavy rail. From s pocket he pulled some rope. and in he fastened one end of the rail )a fence-post, loosely. so that it orked as if on a huge hinge. Then hoisted the rail high ia the air, up ght. fastening it there by a light pole. sed as a brace. To this brace he tied another' piece frope, and then, holding the end or e cord in his hand, he took his posi on on the other side of the road, near e fence. "My spring trap's all complete now." e said, with a chuckle. "I'm ready r the game when it comes along." Any one who watched him might ave wondered what sort of game the d man hoped to catch. He sat fcr early an hour. resting his weary back ainst the lowest fence-rail. The driedt ~aves on the forest trees in the wooda > his left rustled in the cocd fall wind. n his rather thiz garments the old oan shivered. Suddenly fro:n down the road sound a cry, like a dock of wild geese in ight: Honk! Honk! Honk! "There she blows!" cried the old an, jumping up. "Now for my tr'ap it only works!" Around a bend in the road came a ig red automobile. It was speeding long, the gay party in it laughing and 1king. "Fifteen mile an hour if it's a foot.' uttered: Tod. He drew in his breath harpi--'. His hands trembled. but he eadnal them, and then he gave the ord a sudden "yank." The long rail cli with a clatter and bang right icross the road. The path was ef' ectually blocked. The man at the steering-wheel gave yell.- He pulled some levers witha uddeness that -brought the big ona hine up with a quiver of brakes. "What do you mnean?" asked the man t the wheel, angrily. "We i.:ht ar smashed that rail if I id' toped." "I calculated ye'dl stop." said the old an, coolly. "That's what I put 1 all there for." -Wl, you mu st be cr'azy. " 3:V i! u. lifting up his hi goz'.les. " Wh~ n theO world ''id youj wa''nt us to s'al 'or -Exceedi::' the speed limi'"rp eni mile an hour. I m ee~e h towna marsha! to 'rest ye."' hei -,~ -No. I do:n't." r jnined thie haafl '. '-l'm s'prised."' re~oined Tad. ''W don't maailer'. IlL's deliegatod mn- ; ok after such :eoph's you. r!di: arste'~n the law allows'. Ilnve yo a badge?" asked the h affeur. suddenly. Td hesitated for an instant. HC hought of Hank WXright's big shinina mic't stnr the emblem of his author. i iry as town mars . fae fell. "I ain't zot any hadge.'' lie said at list. 'There ain't but one badge in town. and Hank Wright wears that. le's the town narshal. But he's Zive me the authrity to arrest ye. and so Fi' advise y' to submit peae'aliy. "Ye see." he continued. feelin that some explan1ation was neeessarx. ain't been long at this business. I live over at the poorhouse. an' this is my own idea for raisin' funds for gettii' a Thanksgivin' dinner." "What in the world has stoppil'g our automobile got to do with a Thanks giving dinnery' asked the man with the goggles. "Why. there's ten dollars' fine for oin' faster'n the law allows." ex plained Tod. "Half goes to the town. an' the other half is divided 'tween me an' Souire Baseomb. So ye'd better come long peaceable and 'pear in court. for I represent the law, that's what I do." and his wrinkled and seamed old face. kindly as it always was. took on a queer. stern look. There was a brief whispering among the occupants of the automobile. "I might add that all we was goin' to have for Thanksgivin' dinner," said Tod. "was lamb stew. I've as good as earned two dollars and a half now, and i'm goin' to stay here till I get enough for a good turkey dinner. Be ye ready to go to the justice's office?" "Yes, we'll go along peaceably." said the man with the goggles. "Won't you zet in and ride with usy' "If ye'll promise not to go faster'n the law allows." agreed the old man. "We'll go slowly." said the eheuffenr. Thereupon Tod removed the fence rail, and gingerly climbed into the au tomobile. There was a little finrry of excitement when the big. putiffing ma chiie drew up in the village before the Office of Squire Bascomb, although the tining of drivers of the machires was not infrequent in the town. "I 'rested 'em," said Tod. proidly. to the gaping crowd of villagers. "I 'rested 'em. squire. with my patent automobile-stopper." and he chuckled at the remembrance. Squire Bascomnb opened cour: grave ly. "Arc' you snre they were exceedin' the speed limit? he asked Tod. "Well-" began the old man. slowly. for lie had ncr counted on having to give evidence, technical evidence at that. "Oh. ye::. we werr goig rather fast." admitted the driver cf the machiei. in response to a iudge from one of the women. "I think w e will plead guilt'." and lie pulled out his pocketbook and laid ten dollars on the squire's desk. -Ton't do it again." cautioned tli magistrate. severely. as he took the money and handed Tod his share. The old man's fingers trembled so that he almost dropped the money. "Where -rc you going now'?" asked one of the ladies in the automobile party. "m -cin' back for more game." re plied Tod. "I've got to have 'bout live dollars more before I lI hav e enough to buy turkey for all of us up to the poorhouse." "Get in and we'll take you hack." said the chauffeur. softly, and he seemed to hare suddenly taken cold. Once mcre Tod rode in the big red mac'hine. This time it went straight uip to the door of the almshouse. and when the man at the steering-wheel helped the old man down he pressed something that was crisn and e'rnkly into Tod's haud. "It's for Thangsgivintg." he said. as 'od razed1 at the gencrous bil : nd the m::n in goggles wrapped his cat a~bout hint. for it was quite chilly. Such a dinner as they had at the Mforisv'ille poorhouse three days later! Nver' such plump. brown turkeys. never such rich gravy and dressing. seh delicious c'anberry sauce, such risp white celery! Never such mince pies: Mrs. Zeke .Tedell fairly outdid herelf Oil the meal. And such appe tites as everybody had: "It's almost as good as havIn' a N~g red auitomobile." said Tod. "I was afraid I wouldn't hey the spunk to stop 'em. buit I did." "My. but that's- eertanly a One ttun ke-:" spoke Sarah Tooker, wi'.h a sich that expressed the deepest content ment. And all the others agreed w'ith. h cr.-~.or~th's 0o npanion. Sn::a. ii a '.per-ctlnt. zolut~cn. is reco::mended by Proezsor Es-narch, of Cattingen. as the best mea3 of dis infeitn eaung utensils. Flte dust mIxed thoroughly with a -mall porion of clay has been iused uccessully as f'uel at the Jhnstown' plant of the Cambria Steel Company. Tile Glrst telegraphic longitude sta tion: ia Labrador has been established t Chateau Bay by Dr. Otto Kliotz. Dominion astrontomerl. inl conjr'uctionl with 'Eir Wiliam MarC'Cgor, O::ernlor of Newf'oundland. It has been suggested that the excel lent showing made by steel cars in collision is cdue to the fact that the wooden ear's in the train with them a'ted as cushions and lesscned. the force of shock. At all inquest in London. a mnediec i e)zna'r' testitied: Thie man had a w ak dizzsion. and if mushrooms are not oite fresh whten ea tell they are ant o hav' '":iaus effee'.; in the ca~scs of Witr I\ c hlchi!l. M P.. whor lieiyset Itree weeks at Can ltelrets. in France. near the Pyrenecs. brought :(ome to Englaind with h1im nearly 4%t) peii es of i nnterfiles to add to the * \ :-i a sntu lheat in some of the snl:il salt iaices of Hlungary was oh * rve. u f.r bac-k its in' 10%l by' hksW~inky. who reccor.ied the results of hi iestizations in a paper befor'e theii Ilna rian Academy of Sciences. He~ shiowed the warm layer of the oat salt lakres. which iens at a cr tan depth blow~X the surlface between two colder layers and witich is sev erl mteters in depth, to hi-ye nmeces 'aiy derived its heat from ke sun. OUR WITNESS OUR REGULAR SUNDAY SERMON An Eloquent and Touching Discourse by Dr. Frank 0. Hall. New York City.-Dr. Frank Oliver Hall, pastor of the Church of the Di vine Paternity. preached Sunday morn ing on *The Spirit Beareth Witness." He chose his text from Itomans viii:ls: "The spirit itself beareth witness with our spurit that we are the children of God." Dr. IIall said: It is easy to build an argument for the existence of God. The process of reasoning may be briefly stated thus: We are compelled to think that ther-e can be no effect without a c:tuse. jut if we trace anl effect back to itS cause and find this in turn to be an effect. then trace that back to its cause and find that also to he an effect. we must at length predicate the existence of ani dequate (ause for all phenomena, an' underlying and e ternal reality. Or you may put the argument in this way: No thought without a thinker. There is thought in the universe. Therefore there is a thinker in the universe. As the universe is practically infinite We muist believe that in and through the universe lives an Intinite Thinker. and itnasmuch as we cannot conceive of an impersonal thinker we must conceive of God as a personal being. To be sure. our words are inadequate to express the qualities of the Divine Life. As the heavens are high above the earth so are His thouights higher than our thoughts. The mode of His existence may be infinitely higher than what we name personality. But these are the best words at our command. We are obliged to use them or nothing. So we have a right to say that God is an intelligent personality. You may find suen arguments elab orated at great length in scores of learned books on theology and theism. But when you have read them and agreed with the conclusion. what does it amount to? Very likely men and women have come along this dreary pathway of logic to the more beautiful realm of faith, but I am convinced that a mere intellectual belief in God is practically worthless. Ninety-nine out of every hundred conviets in.our states' prisons believe in Got. James states the case still stronger. *Dost thou believe in God? The devils also believe and tremble." There is neither comfort nor strength nor enthusiasm in a mere intellectual belief in the exist ence of God. One may find an intellectual delight in listening to a clear and convincing argument for theism as he might in listening to some skilled mathematical talk about geo:netry. But something more is necessary. Every one of us knows what j: is to long for the con sciousness of a personal relationship %vith God the Father. "0 God." cried Augustine, "Thou hast made me for Thyself and I cannot rest until I rest n Thee." 0. to know God personally: o come into touch with Him; to feel His love and His pity: to be able to ny, "Within Thy circlidg arms I lie." and feel the sentiment of the words; to know that He is my Father and my riend! 0. to have His Spirit bear itness with our spirits that we are bildren of God! Now, one can no more gain this con ~eiousness or the power that comes rom this thought by a mere exercise f the reasoning faculties, than he can earn to love Tennyson by going. :rough the process of counting the iumber of words or letters in his comn lete works. One might gain a certain ntellectual satisfaction in doing that. ut if you are really to get good fror.1 ennyson, then his spirit must bear -itness with your spirit; that is. hi.s hought and his sentiment must meet response in you. So. if God is to be~ n ever present help in trouble, a staff or the hand and a guide for weary et, then one must have something nore than a mere intellectual belief n His existence. What the world teeds. what each one ot. us needs, is tot so much an intellectual assurance f God's existence as spiritual assur tce of His personal relationship to is as His children. I know that I am appealing to com non experience and a common longing. ot one of us who does not know what t is to desire with a mighty yearning or a personal assurance of the love of ~od. What are we, after all, but chii ~ren? Btut what am I? An infant crring in the niaht: An infant crying for a light And with no language 'but a cry. Just as the child wakes in the night ud, feeling the blackness huge and ~mpty about him, cries out into the ~loom for companionship and love, and the father comes and takes the child n his arms and, with confident voice. oothes away the childish fears. so of entfmes we children of earth feel the arkness of life oppress our souls and :ry out for the strong arms of a heav nly Father. Why should we be shamed to acknowledge this hunger f the soul any more than we are shamed to acknowledge the hunger of the body? How, especially in the idst of trouble, the heart hungers for its Father. When the clods fall tupon he coffin lid, bow the soul cries. "My sod-my God." How, when the clouds f adversity gather dense-when the herished ambitions of a lifetime prove futile; when the fortune which was to ake the years of old age bright takes o tself wings: how, when the familiar friend lifts up his heel against one the heart cries out. "Oh. God-my od!" And even in the sunshine and the joy of life, when everything seems o be bright and beautiful and full of romise 'of future joy, there will come moments when it all seems empty and meaningless and the soul cries out for God. My memory goes back to my own oung matrhood. and I recall a day that was more than usually beautiful, when stood alone by the sea. I had every reason to be happy. I had found my place in tLie world: had a work to do and the future seemed full of promiise. My health was perfect. amnd I had not been disappointed, even in my boyish dreams. And yet I recali the awftul loneliness and emplttiniess of the hour. I. had hu-- to wal~k a mile to be wve. coed by truc and tried friends. But I stool there. lonely and hiomesick. Themre itashed lnt. my mind the dreary wrs: we noor c.2"dren of nothng alone oxn Born of a br"ils naturcewho kneiw not that whib.ca The bore'. And I remembe r that I threw. myself on the grass ther-e. wi- the suns.hine all over me and birds singi:ng about me, with everything, apparently. to make me hany. i'n the dep t of my lonliness I fel Ike a cil d who hslad on its mother.X What more <iid I vait? I will tell you wha't I wanted what you want, what every man and woman hun;;ers for with a hunger (lecer than any physical longing. I wanted His Spirit to bear witness 'ith my spirit that I was a child of in else ev-r Can satisfy the deep hun er of the human h":irt. pxtraIord'inary Mxi-rnc, u is anl:: )Iien lllionl to us :1ll. Here is a sanl omposedb by sOme unknown silng er j years agzo. :, singer of a di!fer ent rIce. in1 a far away land. under en tirely different cireumstances from in w hich we live. but this song ulns been taken up and repeated by millo1ns of human beings because the words express tile ever recurrent senti ncu of the human soul In all ages and all lands. "As the hart panteth for the water brooks so panteth my soul after Thee. 0 God." You shall find this sentiment expressea in ten thou sand hymns. In a million churches on this Sunday morning- it is being sung. In a million mlosques it is being chant ed. In a million Buddhist temples it is being uttered. All around the earth all classes and conditions of men. rich and poor. wise and foolish. good and bad. high and low, are longing and praying to have His Spirit bear wit ness with their spirits that they are children of God. .And not only do the people who be lieve in God testify to this. The most remarkable and pathetic testimony comcs from those who intellectually deny that there is sufficient reason to believe in the existence of God. It seems to me that almost the wreariest words that ever fell from human lips were uttered by Professor Clifford when he felt himself compelled intel lectually to take the atheistic position. "I have seen the spring sun shine out of the empty heavens upon a soulless earch. and have felt with utter loneli ness that the gieat Companion was dead." And yon will remember that Professor Romanes. though at the last he saw a great light and went to his death full of trust "like onme who wraps the drapery of his ech about him and lies down to pleasant dreams." at one time wrote a book called "A Can did Examination of Theism." and in this examination found no rational ground for a belief in God. He closed his book with these words: "I am not ashamed to confess that with this vir tual denial of God the universe has lost its soul and loveliness, and when at times I think, as think at times I must, of the appalling contrast be tween. the hallowed glory of the creed thatt once was mine and the lonely mystery of existence as now I find it. at such times it will ever be impossible to avoid the sharpest pangs of which my, nature is susceptible." Take note ot these words of an absolutely sincere aud fearless man. "The sharpest pangs of which niy nature is susceptible." Now why should one feel like that? Suppose there is no God. what of it? Supposie it should be proved that this worlId ha. been produced by the opera tion of physical forces working, in aw coxrdance with blind and heartless law, what of it? Is not the sky just as blue, the grass as green? Are not friends as dear? Why should we not get along -without God? Why should we care whether God is or is not?! A friend told me this incident the other day: There was a family consist ing of an aged man and woman. a number of sons and daughters and a !ittle group of grandchildren. The aged grandfather was enjoying a serene and happy old age, loved by all, and the home was one of peculiar brightness. One night the aged man, as usual, took his evening paper and sat in his accus tomed place to read, wiped his glasses. made a comment or two to the white haired wife knitting opposite, and af ter a little, as his custom was, fell into one of those quiet slumbers peculiar to old age. Around him the other mem bers of the family talked and laughed and joked till one said. '-Father seems to be sleeping very soundly," and, plac lag his hand upon the old man's shoul der. discovered that he was dead. Now, ask ine, will you, what difference Is made? The home was left, the lamp burned as brightly, the newspaper filled with interest was there, nothing was apparently changed. Was not the sky just as blue and the grass just as rteen and did not the stars shine as brightly? What diirerence did it make? W'hy, if he wvas dead his spirit could no longer bear witness to the spirit of the aged wife that he loved her-. His spirit could no longer respond to the joy of his grandchildren. There is a difference between a dead body and a living man that makes one stand in the presence of his living fr-lend with joy and in the presence of the friend's dead body with unutterah!m misery. There is a difference between ai dead universe and a living universe. That is the reason for these utter'ances of black despair from those who do not believe in God. "My soul Iongeth-yea, even faintethl --for the courts of tihe Lord," Now I want to call your attention to the testimony of this hunger after God, to tile existence of God. Whence came this universal and insatiable desire? It came frorm the same source as the mghty longing of a woman for a child, thle longing of the child for a mothers love. It was wrought into man by the same power th~at makes the man search through the world for the one woman to whom he can give himself in love; by the same power that nmakes the maiden desire above everything else the love of one strong man. All these are wrought by nature into human na ture. David was right and his analogy was complete. "As the hart panteth after the water brooks so panteth my soul after Thee, 0 God," As the thirst of the hart for water, as the fact that the hart suffer-s and dies without water-, is testimcony enough for him that somewrhere there must exist water to satisfy his thirst, so the thirst of thes humain soul for God, this mighty cry that goes up from every human soul, is inlexplicable except upon the ground that God is anld that somehow His spirit can bear witness with our spirit< that wve are children of God. Whein ou have convinced me that the love of 'v-n for woman, of mother for child is without meaning or purpose then I will believe that this longing of the hu man soul for God is not to be trusted. Until that time I know that I have ev idence in myself that God is and that I am related to Him. May we not trust this deepest and diviaest instinct of human nature? If not, what caln we trust? You tell me that you will trust your eyesighlt. But why? If tile thought of God is a I.Ilusion., why may not the whole visible universe 1he a delusion? If mny instinctive outreaching after thlat whi:'h i hIoly is a lie., why may not whatt I seem to see be anothlieI? You say that vou will trust youir rea sn? MayV no't that also be another de lusion? "Two times two are four''" you say. "alwvays have been, always will h'." But how do vou know? IMave you any right from your own pety experi'>nee to assume tenat some tli: wasl true ai million yeairs ag o and will he truei ai milliion year's hence? But you~i do asenmtO: tihat. You must trust our reCaSon. Then why not trulst this (lein)'r inlstine't of theC hunman soul whiinl crIes out for God and cani be sat isfied with nothing less? Religion is its own) evidence. The man who trusts and surrenders himself to God does not need to have it proven to him that God is, His spirit beareth witness with our spirit that we are children of But you say. "P -ove it to me. I isk you to prove it to yourself. I eannot prove it to you. No man can. You must make the experiment for y1our7elf. You must prove it yourself. Her( is a mani with his eyes band:ge-d tight. who cries. "You say that the sunshine is beautiful. the grass green. the roses red. Prove it to me." What will you o? There is no possible way in which you can prove the beauty of the world to this man with bandaged eyes. "Off with the bandage"' you cry. "Openi your eyes and look. Trust the evidence of your own senses. Then you will believe." "How does opening the eyelids alter the relation between my eyes and the light? Why. the glor ious revealing light comes in, a thing it cannot do to shut eyes. How does breathing in alter the relation of my lungs to the air? Why. it brings the air that was before outsgie of me in side of me. Just where I absolutely need it for very life, that is all. The open soul takes God in. The shut.soul keeps God out. that is all. The immu table, eterna! laws of light and air are not changed. they are illustrated there by. The immutable love of God is not changed. Its glorious working is illus trated when the believing soul opens its gates and lets the King of Glory in. Oh. friend. you who are hungry and thirsty and have tried in a thousand ways to find satisfaction and have found it not. make another experi ment-make the supreme venture of faith. Try trusting in God to the ut most. Surrender yourself to the guid ance of His divine will. I believe that thus you will find strength. comfort, satisfaction and that your faith shall prove itself in the deep experiences of your life. You want me to prove to you that prayer is effective and rea sonable. I will not try. I ask you. rather, to prove it to yourself. Pray. Talk to your Father. Listen to His voice. Then you will no longer be ask ing for proof that prayer is effective. You will have evidence in yourself. - There is a God and He is our Father. and He reveals Himself and His love to men; not to a few men. but to all men. His spirit will bear witness with your spirit if you will open the eyes and ears of the spirit to hear and see. Sorrows may encompass you, temp tations may harass you, disappoint ments may come to you. Still trust. poor soul: trust as never before. Trust in the Lard and He shall bring it to pass. Cast thy burden on the Lord and He shall sustain thee. Out of the depths of the soul's experience were these words uttered. They can be proved true in the deep experience of the soul to which they appeal. Hidden Riches. This inner life is a tremendcTus real ity. Its very invisibility emphasizes tile realness of the reality. It is one of the richest heritages of the child of God. The outer life is only the scaffolding of the building; it is only the husk or shell. The inner life is the real build ing: it is the germ-hiding kernel. All moral and spiritual defeats are due to a vitiation of the inner life. The withering, blasting and uprooting of the souls choice plants are never ac complished through the forces of the o.uter life; the work begins within. How can we possess the rich. power ful inner life when body, mind and soul are constantly exercising their energies upon the vain, perishing things of earth! We must take time to cultivate the unseen fields of the soul. We must constantly stand face to face with God, drink in the strength of His nature and the inspiration of His pres ence. If we do not, the inner life must pe'rish. Prayer, meditation, reading these are channels through which God pours His golden, vitalizing streams into the in er life. The saddest moment in life to man or woman is when there is a discovery that the inner life is gone, and only the outer shell is left. Yet the inner life goes. gradually and secretly; no one has ever been robbed of it. Let us be watchful. Let us remem ber that as long as God is in this inner life there is security there, and that no thief has ever yet been able to break the lock of praver and trust and divine wisdom.-Rtaleigh Christian Advocate. Labor's Reward. Whate- er we beg of God, let us also work fc - it: if the thing be .matter of duty or c.e (sequent to industry. For God loy, bless labor and to reward it. And .serefore our blessed Saviour joins watchfulness with prayer; forI God's graces are but assistances, not new creations of the whole habit, in every instant or period of our lives. Read Scripture and then pray to God for understanding. Pray against temp tation. Ask of God competency of living; but- you must also work with your own hands the things that are honest. that ye may have to supply in time of need. We can but do our endeavor and pray for a blessing, and then leave the success with God; and beyond this wve cannot deliberate, we cannot take care; but so far we must. -Jeremy Taylor. God's WDi. You may be doing God's will with one hand consecrated to Christ and making your own autobiography with the other consecrated to self.-Henry Druminmond. HAWK FLIES FAR. Weary of Seaward Flight Alights on Foremast. A peculiar incident occurred recent ly while the new Japanese steamer America Maru was en route from the port of Yokohama to San Francisco. When the steamer was 2,000 miles from land she was visited by a large hawk. The hawk was clutching in its talons a half-devoured bird. When first discovered the hawk was alight ing on the foremast, as though very weary from its seaward flight. The second mate of the Maru climbed up into the rigging and was finally for tunate enough to secure the handsome hawk. Three times he approached the bird, only to see it leave its perch and soar away-still fiercely clutch ing the half-eaten prey. Each time, however, the hawk returned to its perch. Before being captured the hawk gave battle to the plucky Japa nese, using its strong, sharp beak and talons to good advantage in warding off the hands of the mate,, but the lat ter clung to the rigging until the bird was captured. This was finally ccre. The hawk now occupies a place in the crew's quarters on the America Maru. On account of its brilliant plumage and general dignified bearing the bird is highly valu~ed. INew Material for Paper. Samples of the papaya, or Mexican pawpawv have been sent to American paper makers to be tested for its adaptability for the manufacture of high grades of paper. To judge from its appearance, it seems probable that no decorticating machinery would be required in its treatment, as the fibrous material is devoid of woody lments to all appearances. [PWOH, 1E901 [ESSONS: SUNDAY. NOVEMBER 12. The Dangers of Indulgence.--Prov. 2:. 2>:)->: Isa. 5. 22-25. (Temper ance Meeting.) The book of Proverbs, or "Parables" they might be translated, in a com pilation of wise-sayings on many sub-c jects. It is remarkable that in that age such strong and severe arraign ments of intemperance should be giv en. But the sorrows that have come from strong drink have been perpetu a!. - Its woe and sor: owv, its conten tions and babblings. its causeless wounds and redness of eyes, are as old as the race. The wor il I:as got ten far away from many of the an cient sins, but not from this sin of drunkenness. It is the last fortress of the devil to capitulate. Isiah ut ters another woe upon the injustice and wickedness of those who use strong drink. History proves that the man who yields to sinful indulgence is mastered by his appetites. The only really free manis the man who controls self and masters his appetites. The ques tion of intemperance is wrapped up in this one of self-control. The danger lies in the further fact that nearly every man thinks that he has self-con trol when be has not. He is a slave through indulgence when he thinks that he is master of the situation. Our passions and appetites are strong. They grow by what they feed lpon. Fed by indulgence and they soon are masters of the will. Appetite clamors for indulgence, and it is not easy to deny. Our imagina tions become corrupt and help to weaken the will. But no man can re sist temptation. or deny appetite, un til he has self-control. Young people from Christian homes have the same natural appetites and desires.as those who are vicious. We need to re member that we will be swept off our feet and fall if we do not have a will which will resist. And even then we must have the help of God's grace and Spirit. Every good instinct would lead us to cultivate self-control and recognize the dangers of indulgence. The path of success in life is hedged in by self control. The honor of men, the fay or of God, heaven and happiness are dependent upon it. The vices of so ciety, the fashionable pleasures of rho day. the t2ndencies everywhere to tako life easy and shirk the hard things of life. all tend to self-indulg e-.ce. But if we would win in life and beove!rcomers we must be self-con trolled and r-fuse indulgence in evil. A man can face unknown duties and perPis fearlessly if he knows that he has the power to meet them. The world lies at the feet of the man who has self-control. The highest useful n'-s In life is his who has learned to master himself. The reverse of all this is true of him who has yield ed to indulgence. CH ISiIA IENEAlHl NFiER NOVEMBER TWELFTH. 1The Dangers of Indulgence. Prov. 23: 29-35; Isa. 5:22-25. Some13ible Hints. If we never look upon a temptation. we are in no danger from it; .it is the man that stops to look that is in peril. The wise man learns to consider everything with regard not to its beginning, but its ending, and asks at the opening of every road, "-Whith er does it lead?" Why do men call It strong drink when it leads to nothing but weak ness, and captures only weak men? The more worthless a thing, the more rapidly and easily does fire con sume it; one way to combat the fire of sin is to toss the chaff "out of your naturfe. Suggestions. When we say , "Once more-and this is positively the last time," it is not the last time. When we indulge in any sin, jet us remember that it is not an indul gence of ourselves alonc;, it is an in dulgence of Satan. The danger of any sin is not in the possibility of greater sin, but In the sin itself, which may fix us In evil. The indulgence of the mind, of de sire and brooding, is as perilous: as the Indulgence of the deed itself. , ltustrations. The man who tried how close to the precipice he could drive; discover d that the precipice was undermined at the edge. The chains of habit are forged by he lilows of time-every hour inl sin s a new hammer stroke. The lower a man goes, the more he weighs, and the harder it is for him o rise. Temperance Training. A society temperance pledge may e hung upon the wall, with the sig atures of all the members upon it. Plan for the temperance meetings ong in advance, and make them as strong as possible. Introduce into every temperance eeting some account oif recent tem erance victories, and the progress? f the movement. Learn what are the temperance aws of your own State and communi ty, and how they are kept. Why should not the tempelance ommittee learn, for the information J f voters, the position as to temper ane of the candidates bofore the people for election? Here's a Fashion Tip. A South African tailor is the invent or of a coat which umay be worn the entire day without being out of place. The wearer starts out in the morning with a short-tailed coat that is quite in the proper mode. but as the afternoon draws on he feels the need of a frock and laces voluminous skirts to the short foundation. A , second change is needed for dinner. but he has merely to change the skirts, and behold him in pr-oper even ig dress. The change is made Ley lacing. and herein lies the patent. Al though the change can be quickly effected, there is no way of telling the lacing from an ordinary seam. and so long is plain black is retaimed the additional skirts provide tle own er with three garments in one. The Danube flows thror:gh coun. tries In which fifty-two languages and malet ame spoken