The Abbeville press and banner. (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, February 08, 1888, Image 8
An Orphan Boy.
Stay, lady, stay, for mercy's sake,
And hear a helpless orphan's talc.
Ah! suro my looks must pity wake;
Tis want that makes my cheek so pale.
Yet I was once a mother's pride.
And my brave father's hope and joy;
But in the Nile's proud tight he died,
And I am now an orphan boy.
Poor, foolish child ! how pleased was I.
When news of Nelson's victory came!
AIour the crowded streets to fly.
And seethe lighted window's tlame.
To force me home my mother sought,
She could not bear to see my Joy.
+ k foM.nr'c Ufa 'turns hmicht.
And mad/me a |?oor orphan boy 7
The people's shouts were long and loud;
My mother, shuddering, closed her ears.
"Rejoice! rejoice!" still cried thocrowd;
.My mother answered with her tears.
"Why arc you crying thus," said I,
"While others laugh and shout for joy ?"
She kissed me, and with such a sigh,
.She called me her poor orphan boy.
"What is an orphan boy?" I criod,
As in her face I looked and smiled;
My mother, through her tears, replied:
"You'll know too soon, ill-fated child."
And now they've tolled ray mother's knell,
And I'm no more a parent's .joy;
U. may, I nave je.-iriifu wu ?cu
What 'tis to be an orphan boy!
[Omclia Opie.
4^4
The Leakage of Cliurclics.
Leakage is a term used with refer.
t'lice to the loss of liquids from vessels
that are not water tight, and, in a
commercial sense, it describes a cer- ,
tain rate per cent, for such waste. We
use it now in relation to church
shrinkage, and how appropriate the
term is in this application will be
fiv tli a fnnts which siltrcest
the use. While large additions are
made to many of our churches the aggregate
of numbers in the multitude
of cases show but little change; the
supply of new members is barely sufficient
to supply deficiencies by losses
from relapses, in many instances.
In this state of things the London 1
Freeman suggests that, "If, instead of
wondering how to reach the masses,
we first solved the problem of how to
retain those we have gained, we
should accomplish a task that would
amply repay the time and trouble
spent on it. It is a startling fact that
the youths of our land, on whom the
best efforts of our best Christian men
have been expended, aud who constitute
the future hope of our nation, are
allowed to drift out of our Sabbath
sciioois ana seeK compiuiiunsnip wu
congenial pursuits among associations
that tend to irreverence and sin. Nobody
asks why they left or where they
have gone, and thus multitudes of our 1
young men?having no strong ties to 1
bind them to the church of their boy- i
hood, and having received imperfect 1
ideas of some of the main features ot 1
Christianity, are to be found in every '
town and village composing a large !
proportion of the population. Thede- i
sertion of our young men is largely
owing to the absence of any attraction <
for them in connexion with the
Church." 1
These remarks, however, apply more 1
to the congregation than to the Church. !
T% -X XI. _ J * - r n -> I
Jt?UC lue sau taut cuuuuuis us mat an
alarming process of shrinkage is constantly
going on in the membership of
many of our churches, the causes of
which demand serious thought, the
correction of which calls for special
effort. To keep a church in tact and
hold in firm allegiance new accessions
to its membership is a problem very
difficult to solve. To a faithful pastor
few things occasion greater anxiety
than the relapse of converts, and the
loss of so much of the fruits of his labors
is one of the saddest reflections '
forced upon a review of ministerial I
service. !
To avert this leakage should be the
aim not only of the pastor, but of the
entire church. Pulpit counsels and
pastoral visitations are not sufficient.
What is needed is more "mutual
watch-care," a closer sympathy, a ]
more intimate fellowship, and a con- <
stant interchange of those Christian i
courtesies which are adapted to quick- ]
en holy affections, kindle religious i
zeal, and hold in stronger bonds of j
unity all who belong to the same :
household of faith.?Bajitifit Weekly.
+
Lost Opportunities. i
A gentle, gracious old lady of seventy
lately told the following incident to j
her grand-children. We give, as near- :
ly as possible, her own words : i
"I drove out one day. when I was a
youug girl, to the Park. Some trifle
had occurred to irritate me: a disap
pointment, probably, about a dress or
. - a hat. I left the carriage and bidding
the coachman drive on, sat do\vn on a
bench near the river.
"Some children were playing under
the trees; their nurses looking on. I
remember that their noise annoyed me
and that I tried to control my own illhumor.
But, I thought, why should I
not be ill-humored if I chose? I was
alone; it could harm nobody.
"A man stood near me, leaning
against a tree. He attracted my attention
because his clothes were of
fine quality, though worn and ragged.
There was something about his air and
manner, too, which betokened gentle
breeding. He turned and saw nie
looking at him, and, apparently following
a sudden impulse, came upand
a>ked me for work.
"I was not frightened, for his man
ner was perfectly respectful, but I was
angry .it being annoyed by a stranger.
" 'What work could I have for you ?'
I said.
" 'That is true.' lie bowed aud
turned away. I sat by the river for a
while, and then went to meet the carriage
which was returning.
"The man again stopped me. 'You
are young,' he said. 'You ought to
have more mercy than the world. I
am a very wretched man. If you
would use your influence, could you
not get me work V
utt:.. : ? pen T 111nrrht
IIIS VUlt'C Was SU uuaiov A
he had been drinking. I hurried on,
without speaking. The coachman
threatened him with his whip, seeing
that I was annoyed. I went home,
but the man's pale face haunted me
all that night.
"The uext morning, my father read
from the paper, 'The body of a man
was found last night in the river above
the dam. It proved to be that of a
Virginian named Hall, who had been
struggling with poverty and ill-health
in the city, for months.'
"He had been starving the day before,
had applied for work to every
man he met. His last appeal was to
me. A kind word from me would
have saved him.
"It was a terrible lesson. Fifty
years have passed since then, but even
now I wake at night with that man's
face before me."
The consequences of our careless
neglect of the poor are not often
brought home to us in such a way.
Yet we may be certain that every time
we turn away from a needy brother,
we leave him to evil influences which
we might have changed into good
ones.
Every beggar, every'creature hurt or
hungry in body or soul that comes in
our path, is an opportunity given to us
by God to make ourselves like the
Master in His compassion and kind
uess.
"Inasmuch," the Saviour tells us,
"as ye did it not to one of the least of
these, ye did it not to me."
The Comfort of Hope.
He who shows mercy to another remembers
himself. To be pitiful is to
lie thoughtful. Those who are in the
full tide of health cannot easily think
what it really is to be worn with unrelieved
paiu and disease. Those in
whose happy homes there seem to be
the perpetual festival of comfort and
the sweetest friendships can hardly
imagine what it is to have the home
broken up, and to be outcast and alone.
The infinite comfort which there is in
Christ's love and presence and friendship
is due in part to the infinite
thoughtfulness of His love.
"If it were not so," said Jesus to his
disciples. "I would have told you."
What is it that he would have so surely
told them, "if it were not so." This,
that in God's home, in the home of the
Father of our Lord and Savior Jesus
Christ, there is abundant room; that
TTf_ A Ax
mere is mis own piepuicu piroc im
jacli one; and that this home, assured
to every disciple, is no mere guesthouse
for a night or a day, but a home
that has the element of permanence?
that is, an abiding place.
The need of that "perpetual vision
3f a better world," whose light shines
through the darkness of the present
life, is not a need for a few here and
there, but a necessity for every one and
everywhere. "If it were not so, I
would have told you." The reasons,
then, are obvious enough why we, too,
should tell of it, that all may know it.
[ Congregational Magazine.
Dress and Manners.
The Examiner well puts it: "Refinement
of manners, neatness in dress,
jareful observance of all the social
nmenitie.H are important elements in
pastoral success. Neglect of them often
turns the scale against a really capable
and worthy man. 'Dress does not
make the man,' said r? distinguished
preacher, 'but when he is made he
looks a great deal better if well dressed.'
The remark has a wider application
than to mere apparel. A strong
man is stronger for being a thorough
gentleman. A good man is better,
and his goodness is more highly appreciated,
if he is attentive to those minor
virtues which refine and beautify
the life. Coarseness, shabbiness,
vulgarity, in greater or less degree,
may co-exist with great moral and intellectual
power; but by so much as
they exist they narrow the range of influence
by repelling those whom a
more gracious manner might win.
And they are an element of weakness
even when apparently overlooked.
Everyone likes his pastor to appear to
the best advantage, and is pained at
evidences of indifference to personal
appearance or the rules of good breeding.
It behooves the pastor, therefore,
to cultivate the lesser as well as the
greater graces of life, and without giv-l
ing undue heed to (lie outward man,
to endeavor to offend no one l>y negligence
in dress, or 'conduct unbecoming
a gentleman.' "
Emerson declared, forty years ago,
that what hold the popular faith had
upon the people was "gone or going."
He asked why we should drag the dead
weight of the Sunday-school over flic
glohe?and lived to see 1iis own daughter
holding a Sunday-school for little
Arah children on the Nile.
.
A SuggestiYC Incident.
The following narration may suggest
to some of our readers simple
ways in which they may substantially
aid and cheer young men and young
wemeu who are preparing themselves
for labor in the vineyard of the Lord
as physicians and ministers.
"I went a thousand miles from
home," said Dr. M., "to attend a theological
school. I had earned and laid
aside nearly money enough to pay my
expenses, and had promise of assistant
pastoral work sufficient to make
up any probable deficienc}'. In the
middle of my second year the strain
on me became very great, and I was
seized with congestion of the brain
and taken to the hospital. There I
stayed several days, and received excellent
care. When I went back to
the bare walls of my little cell in the
seminary, they looked cheerless
enough. I had not dared to write to
ray parents of ray illness ; they could
do nothing for me, and the knowledge
that I was ill would only distress
them, and do no good to them or me.
"Having taken only liquid food during
my illness, I became, of course,
reduced in flesh and strength, and on
my recovery needed nourishing and
appetizing food. But restaurant fare
I could not relish. After a few mouthfuls
I could eat no more, and left the
table hungry. I knew just what
would be served at my boarding or
meal-taking house, and that knowledge
took away my appetite. My
physician at last advised me to give
up my studies for the remainder of the
year, and go home and rest and' build
myself up, and begin again another
year.
"This advice depressed me greatly.
I should, if I took it, be put back a
whole year. Just at this dark hour a
young man of my acquaintance, having
missed me from Sunday-school the
day before, and learning I was sick,
came to see me.
" 'I'm going to take you home with
me,' said he. 'You need an outing.
Mother will be glad to see you.'
'I went with him. He took me to
his room, and after giving me a vigorous
rubbing and pinching, which left
all my muscles in a glow, he left me
in his bed to sleep for an hour. When
I awoke, refreshed, and joined the
cheerful family circle,* my depression
was gone. It was delightful to be in a
home once more. Soon the six o'clock
dinner was served. "What an appetite
I had! How good every thing tasted!
How pleasant it was to be in the inner
circle of family life once more!
"That was the turning-point for me.
I began to get better; my appetite
came back, my strength returned, I
resumed my work, and finished my
course without interruption. To that
family circle I became a privileged
visitor, and the thought that there was
one place in the great city where I
could for a little time be at homeonly
those who have been strangers
can know what it was to me."
The Door Unlocked.
Some time since I wished to enter a
strange church with a minister, a little
before the time for service. We produced
a key, but tried in vain to unlock
the outside door with it. We
concluded we had the wrong key, and
sent to the janitor for the right one.
But he came and told us that the door
was already unlocked. All we had to
do was to push and the door would
open. We thought ourselves locked
out, when there was nothing to hinder
us from entering.
In the same way we fail to enter into
love uid fellowship with God. The
door, we think, is locked against us.
We try to fit some key of extraordinary
faith to open it. We trjr to get our
minds wrought up to some high pitch
of feeling. We say, "I have the
wrong key; I must feel more sorry; I
must weep more." And all the time
the door is ready to open, if we but
come boldly, with humble earnestness,
to the throne of grace. We may enter
freely at once, without having to un
locK Hie Cloor. jurist is uie uuor, aim
his heart is not shut against us. We
must enter without stopping to fit our
key of studied faith, for his inercy is
not locked up. We must enter boldly,
trustingly, not doubting his readiness
to receive us, "just as wo are." He is
willing already, and we must not stop
to make him willing by our prayers or
tears.
"I Only Want You."
Nearly four years ago, I was going to
sjH-iid the day in a large city. Before
alanine i sum 10 my near nivaiiu |
tor, who is now in glory, satisfied with |
the fulness of her Father's house, "Can j
I buy anything for you, dear? 1 doi
want so much to bring you something
from town." She interrupted my
question, snying with such a sweet,
yearning look, "Nothing, dear. Don't
bring anything. I only want you.
Come home as soon as you can." Her
tender words rang in mv ears all day :
"I only want you and O, how often,
since her bright entrance within the
pearly gates, have her touching words
and loving look returned to memory!
Well, dear reader, is not this, too,
what a dear sweet Saviour says to you ? i
Do you not want sometimes, to offer
prayers, tears, almsgiving, deeds of
kindness, sacrifices, earnest service, and
patient endeavor? But he, too, turns
from all, and says, "I only want you."
"My son, my daughter, give me
thine heart." No amount of service
can satisfy the love which claims only
the heart. "Lovest thou me?" was
his thrice repeated question to his erring
disciple. "He that loveth me shall
be loved by my Father." (John 14;
21.) Devotion of life, earnestness of I
service, fervent prayers, are only acceptable
to him as fruits of love. They
are valueless without the heart. He
say9 to each of us, as my sainted sister
said to me, "I only want you."
Speaking of the great loss of life in
the Paris theater an important daily
says: "That was a pathetic scene, for
those were pleasure-seekers, who had
gone for a few hours to find relaxation
from the insipid joys or relief from the
carking cares of life." It was indeed a
pathetic sceue. We pity them all.
But to one expression fn the words
quoted serious objection is to be taken.
Life has carking cares, but is it proper
to characterize its ordinary joys as insipid?
The ordinary joys of lifo to
those in health of body and mind can
never be insipid. Like the wholesome
food on which men live, they are satisfying.
Only drunkards on alcohol or
other unnatural excitants find them
otherwise, and they because they are
accustomed to artificial stimulants.
One of the evils of much theater-going
is that it tends to make life's ordinary
joys insipid. We once heard a young
lady, bred in luxury, say to a friend,
that she got through the day with a
novel, in the hope that somebody would
come in to take her to the theater in
the evening.
[New York Christian jldvocate.
Having gone through the painful
process in my own mind, a process continued
through years of anxiety, I am
bound to acknowledge that I can find
no rest to my soul, no satisfactory conclusion,
which, as a professed disciple
of Christ, I dare adopt but that all war
Is inconsistent with the nature and
spirit of the Christian religion. I can
not make any war, even that which
men have been in the habit of deeming
the most justifiable, compatible with
the genius and principles of the gospel.
The individuals acting on offensive war
must exert themselves to kill, burn,
and destroy. Those who carry on defensive
war must act in the same manner.
As a disciple of Christ I am
brought to that most important question,
can I, for any earthly consideration,
take away the life of a fellow
creature in order to preserve my own
property or life? When I endeavor to
'* ^ 5? n ;-Li
put tne question as m uiesiguu ui *jruu,
I feel that the spirit of Christianity,
the example of its blessed Author, his
wondrous act of stupendous love, in dying
for his enemies, will not permit it.
[John Pye Smith.
The Crowd Who Pass Us.
You cannot read the lot of those who
daily pass by you in tifie street. How
do you know the wild romances of
their lives?the trials, the temptations
they are even now enduring, resisting,
sinking under? You may be elbowed
one instant by the girl desperate in her
abandonment, laughing in mad merriment
with her outward gesture, while
her soul is longing for the rest of the
dead, and bringiug itself to think of
1 ^ nSi'At* nu tlm ATI 1 \7 111Af
lilt? I'UlUMlUWliig in ci ao iuv v?ai*j uivi
cy of God remaining to her here. You
may pass the criminal meditating
crimes at which you will to-morrow
shudder with borrow as you read them.
You may push against one humble aud
unnoticed, the last upon earth, who in
heaven will forever he in the immediate
light of God's countenance. Errands
of mercy?errands of sin?did
you ever think where all the thousands
of people you daily meet are hound ?
Christians seem to engage in warfare
u]K)ii the principle of doing evil that
good may come; for Christians admit
that war is an evil. "But may ye not
meet the enemy to preserve our homes
and our government from violence and
OJJ Wim itiiolf it: vinlnnp**
UUMI Ul'Limi ; IT ui uovu 1? ? 4W.V..V?
and destruction. "But war saved our
homes and our government in the rebellion."
But war did not save our
neighbor*' homes; and what does our
King say ? " Thou, shall love thy neigh,
bur as thyself.1
[Daniel Hill, Editor of the M<sscngcr
of 1'cacc.
War is the greatest evil of evils that
we can conceive to he remedied. It attacks
all classes of society and all ages,
j It attacks them with no insidious wenpIoils
and under no disguise, hut with
i ottcu ru:>ssacre, starvation, and ruin?a
mischief from which no ??rn? is safe;
which threatens every man's life und
every man's children's lives.
I thoroughly detest all war, believing
it t?? Ik.- liarliarism, at once irrational
an<l cruel, of which the common sense
of the nineteenth century otiirht to lie
i heartily ashamed.
What Others Say.
(J. H.)
It is no cause of wonder that people
are getting their eyes open to see that
there are better methods than war for
the settlement of international disputes.
The wonder is that they did not wake
up sooner. War is so irrational, even if
it were not criminal, so utterly inadequate
to settle disputes upon principles
of right and justice, that it would seem
that ouly irrational beings would resort
to it. Wild animals who are incapable
of reason, settle their quarrels by brute
force. Then the sharpest claws and the
strongest muscles prevail, and the |
weaker are vanquished. This settles
only the quest ion of might, not of right.
God has given man, as he has not the
lower animals, the faculty of reason
and argument, and a sense of justice
and right, by which questions can lie
determined upon the principle of right,
without any regard to the physical
strength of the contending parties.
Man degrades himself and dishonors
God, when he drops down to the level
of the brute in trying to settle disputes.
(S. S. Times.)
Neither the wisdom nor the folly of
to-day is utterly new. When one sees
the young scrapegrace of our times livino"
hv his wits, manacincr in one wav
and another to obtain money enough to
dress more showily and to feast more
sumptuously thau his honest and hardworking
neighbors, one is tempted to
believe that this creature is a modern
invention. But when one turns back
to the record of two thousand years
ago, he finds evidence of the same sort
of person attracting attention and winning
contempt in those days. "Be not
made a beggar by banqueting upon
borrowing, when thou hast nothing in ,
thy purse; for [by so doing] thou shalt
lie in wait for thine own life, and be
tnllroH nn " iu thf> wisp man's nnnnsel in
Ecclesiasticus. And so it would seem
that fools and wise men have borne
much the same relation to each other in ,
all the ages.
(S. 8. Times.)
Frankness in manner and in speech '
is winsome or is disagreeable, is right or
is wrong, according to the spirit which
prompts it. Frankness may be a result
of one's egotism, or even of one's hatefulness
; or, again, it may be a result of '
one's unsuspicious trustfulness. A per- '
son may be free and outspoken through
thinking only of himself; or through '
an unkind readiness to tell another of
his faults and lack. That kind of J
fraukness is never pleasing to* others.
But a person may be frank to another
through his forgetfulness of himself,
and through his readiness to speak ;
without fear or reserve to the one who 1
commands his fullest confidence. That 1
kind of frankness hardly ever fails of 1
being attractive. It is not enough for ]
you to know that you are frank and i
outspoken, the real question is, Are you
commendably, or objectionably frank ? ;
(Tayler Lew is.) i
No, this gospel is not adapted to the ,
nineteenth century. It wasn't adapted
to any century. It wasn't intended to
be. It was intended that the nineteenth
century should be adapted to the
gospel. Your work is not to make the
truths of the Bible fit into all the crooks
and crevices of the lives and beliefs of
men. You are to stamp, not overlay;
to coin, not gild. You are to apply the
teachings of Christ with such force to
hearts and lives of men that their
hearts will ever after bear the impress
of the image of Jesus Christ, and their
lives l>e conformed to His will. There
tire peculiarities of the times that will
require special methods of delivering
the truth, notspecial truth. You may
J have to leave the pulpit and stand at
the door, or 011 the street corner, in order
to preach to men. But when you
preach, preach the truth.
(Thomas Chase.)
"This evil, war, would not continue
to exist in Christian communities a
day or hour longer, if the good Christian
men of every country were once
to look at it iu its true light, and to
recognize and acknowledge its monstrous
criminality. I arraign the
churches of Christendom, as guilty of
all the crime and woe which the continuance
of this barbarous iustitution
entails upon the world."
? ?
Vou felt "warmed up" while you
were attending that protracted meeting.
You were away from the annoyances of
domestic duties and servants. How
you did enjoy singing the precious old
hymns, and the "altar-work!" Good
so far; but, tested by the trials amid
which you are to spend the rest of the
year, your revival is "is weighed in the'
! balauee and found wanting," for il j
I docs not make you patient and amiable
| with servants and children.
j The day is eominjr, T trust, when j
| Christians will look hack with grati-j
tudc and affectum on those mou, who, i
j in ages of conflict and bloodshed, enlisted
under the banner of philanthroI
py and peace, cherished generous hopes
jot" human improvement, withstood tlie
t violence of eoiri'pt opinion, held forth
j niniilst jivneral darkness the pure ami
I mild light of Christianity, and tints
I ushered in a new and peaceful era in
! the hi-tory of mankind.
H 1 u? 1 II U M ? ' Hfll
A Miner's Persistence. 9HH
Canon "VVilberforce, whose recent R9
visit to this country was a source of hB
good to many, was dwelling, in the HB
course of one of his addresses, on the flj
importance of the word "now," and HI
related the following incident in point: SB
A miner having heard the Gospel K9
preached, determined that, if the BH
promised blessing of immediate salva- 9H
tion were indeed true, he would not uMj
leave the presence of the minister fli
who was declaring it, until assured of B9
its possession by himself. He waited, jffl
consequently, after the meeting to 8B
speak with the minister, and, in his HQ
untutored way, said : BB
"Didn't ve sav I could have the
blessing now?"
"Yes, my Iriend,"
"Then pray with me, for I'm not
goin' awa' wi'out it."
And they did pray, these two men,
wrestling in prayer until midnight,
like Jacob at Peniel, until the wrestling
miner heard the silent words of
comfort and cheer. ,
"I've got it now!" cried the miner,
his face reflecting the joy within;
"I've got it now !"
The next day a terrible accident occurred
at the mines?one of those accidents
which so frequently shock us
with their horror merely in the reading
of them. The same minister was
called to the scene, and amoDg the
men dead and dying was the quivering,
almost breathless body of this
man, who only the night before, big
and brawny, came to him to know if
salvation could really be had "now'
for the asking. There was but a fleet
ing momeut of recognition between
the two, ere the miner's soul took
flight, but in that moment he had
time to say, in response to the minister's
sympathy :
"Oh, I don't mind, for I've got it?
I've got it?it's mine."
Then the name of this poor man
went into the -list of "killed." There
was no note made of the royal inheritance
to which he had but a few hours
befofo come into possession, through
faith in Christ, and all by his believing
grip of the word "now."
Fair Assassins.
I say to you, weighing my own
words, that you should be less deprav- 9
ed, less savage, would less disgrace
your womanhood, would be less a
curse to your kind, and, if God is
rightly revealed to us in His Word
and His Son, would less offend Him
by going to see dogs fight in their kennels
at the Five Points, or bulls gore
horses in Spain, than by putting on
your bonnet and gloves and going
from house to house in your neighborhood,
assailing absent acquaintances,
dribbling calumny, sowing suspicion,
planting and watering wretchedness,
stabbing character, alienating friends
by repeating to one the detraction that
you "heard" another has spoken. I
beileve that before the judgment seat
of Christ the prize-fighting man will
stand no worse than the slanderously
gossiping woman.
[Bishop Huntingdon.
Savannah VaUav Railroad
SCHEDULE TO TAKE EFFECT SUNDAY
JANDABT 1, 1S8S.
Passenger, Freight and Mall?Anderson to MeCormlck.
Daily?Run by 75th Meridian.
Leave Anderson 6 00 a m 2 40 p ru
" t Dean 0 81 am 311 put
" Cook 7 00 a in S 40 p tit
" Lowndesvllle 788am 418pm
" Latimer 8 04 a in 4 44 p m"
Hester S 23 a in 5 (# p in
" Mt. Carniel 8 49 a m 5 29 p in
" Willlnjrton 9 05 am 545 pm
u Bordeaux 924 am 604 pm
Arrive McCormick ID 00 am 6 40 p in
Leave McCormick 10 10 a ra 6 00 p m
' Bordeoux 10 46 a m 6 36 p m
" VTilllngton 11 05 a in 6 55 a m
" Mt. Carmel 11 21 a m 7 11 am
" Hester 1147 am 7 87 a m
" Latimer 12 06 p in S 05 a m
" Lowr.dcsville 12 37 pm S 37 a in
" Cook 110 p m 9 10 a m
" Dean 1 89 p in 9 37 a m
Arrive Anderson 2 10 p in 10 10 am
W. W. STARR, Superintendent.
Port Royal and Augusta R'y.
In Effect January 1, 18S8.
Time?Meridian.
Daily. Daily.
Lv Augusta 9 45 am Lv Jncks'n\Te 9 00 pm
Ar Beaufort 500 pm Lv savannah.. 6 4oam
Ar Port Royal. 0 uo pm Lr Charleston. 7 30 am
Ar Charleston. 6 20 pm Lv Port Royal. 7 00 am
Ar Savannah.. 0 34 pm Lv Beaufort 7 12am
Ar .Iacks'nvi'e 7 30 am Ar Augusta 115 pm
accommodation* i accommodation*
Lv Augusta 0 -15 nni Lv J'ort itoyai. 4 au am
Ar Beaufort..... 5 30 pm Lv Beaufort -1 4Gan>
Ar Port Royal. 5 45 pni.Ar Augusta 4 00 am
Port Royal & Western Carolina R'y
T.Vru Meridian Time.
Nohth. Daily.} * !
Lv Augusta 7 Ml Qin1 8 10 nm 3 35 pm
Ar Anderson 2 10 pm' '
Ar Greenwood 11 15 am 2 30 pm 8 30 pm
Ar Laurens 12 30 pm 5 10 pm
Ar Greenville 2 15 pm ' > 00 pm
Ar Spartanburg 2 10 pm H 00 pint
*Ar nend'rs'nvlllc C 3T> pm
Ar Aslieviile 8 00 pin
South. Dai i.v. *
Lv Ashevillo. .. 7 oi) am ...
Lv Hend'rs'iivllle s 40 am
Lv Spartanburg... 3 ihi pin <? oo nm,
Lv Greenville 'i 35 pm
Lv Laurens I 33 pm i? no am
Lv Greenwood .... 5 43 pin II _ni pm ii Wi am
I.v Anderson 2 4ii pin ("> ?'? nm
Ar Auvumh ! 30 pin "> II pm 11 lj am
Daily,cxeept snnday.
On Sunday?only one train on Anderson
Branch, leaving Anderson 7 a. in., arriving at
Mel'ormleklOu. in. KeUirning? leave'MeCormiek
lo 20 a. m., arriving at Anderson 1 20
n. m.
* Connection at Greenwood macieto andtrom
all points cn Columbia and Greenville railroad.
At Spartanburg with A. & C. Air Line.
Close connections made to and from Charleston,
iSnvaiinnli and Florida points; and by
(Jeornia railroad trains for Atlanta and the
West. \V. J. CRAIG. A. G. 1'. A.
K. K. AN'UKKSON. Master Trains,
w*. w. sr.viii:, supt.