The Abbeville press and banner. (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, August 08, 1888, Image 1
The Abbeville Press and Banner l
BY HUGH WILSON. ABBEVILLE, s". C., WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 8, 1888. VOLUME XXXHL NO. 13. |tfj|
The Husbandman.
Joliu Smith is a neighbor of mint',
but no relation. He is a good farmer,
but?Well, I will let him tell his own
story. He came to me the other day,
and said:
"I want you to advise me what to do.
We are having awful times over at my
house. The boys are falling into bad
habits. The girls are gaddingabout all
the time. My wife is as cross as a
bear. She says it is all my fault that
the children don't do Iwtter, and that I
have nobody but myself to blame.
But you know that I have always been
a sober, hard-working man. I have
made a good living for my family, and
I can't see why things turn out so.
What do you think I ought to do?"
"Shall I tell you just what I think?'
"Yes."
"Well, John, my opinion is that if
you had been as good a luisbandman
indoors as you are out of doors, your
family would be in as good condition
as your farm is. You know that the
Bible calls the farmer a husbandman,
and we speak of farmiug as husbandry.
And I take it, the idea is that a man
ought to care for aud cultivate his
landjustashe does his home. But I
i f you had treated your farm as you
have treated your home, it would be
all over-grown with weeds and thistles."
"What do you mean by cultivating
my home? I understand about cultivating
land. But that is a very different
thing from cultivating people."
"I am not so sure of that. Let us
loook at the matter, Soon after you
bought your farm you married your
wife. In becoming a husband, you
assumed in regard to her the duties of
a husbandman. She expected you to
study her capabilities and her wants as
youstuddied your fields. Your idea
when you loooked on your land was,
How can I make it most productive,
and yet keep it in good heart? If you
saw the crops begining to grow light,
you summer fallowed, or changed the
seed. But did you study your wife
in that way ? Did you ever think that
she needed encouragement? Did you
ever see how she was drooping from]
the monotony of her daily toil and
cares, and thy to give her a change?
Did you ever say, 'Come, Sarah, we
will take a journey to the mountains j
or to the seashoie and rest awhile.'I
I tell you, John, people need summer
fallowing as well as laud. And if they |
don't get it now and then, their spirits!
grow worn and weary, and the crop of j
comfort for them, and for those who
are dependent on them, will be very
light. Nay, in spite of themselves, J
they will get to be irritable. You say
that your wife is cross. Don't you see
why? She loved you, and thought
that you loved her. But after you
, ' married her, how did you treat her?
Did you cultivate her, or did you neglect
her? Don't you act just as if she
had nothing to expect of you but to
keep the family supplied with provisions,
and to eat your meals when she
had prepared them? And didn't you
sometimes grumble even when she
wauted money for things necessary to
the comfort of the family? And
didn't you complain of her cooking,
when she was doing the best she
could to please you? Now just remember
how much more careful you
were of your land than of your wife!
how much more time you spent in
trying to mellow it and smooth it, and
to find seeds adapted to it, than you
spent in trying to make her happy,
and you will see why you have such a
harvest of thistles, when you might
have had wheat and fruit and flowers!
"And then about the children.
You are the best man I know of to
handle horses. I have often wondered
at your patience with your colts. You
never seem to get tired of petting and
training them. You are so kind to
tlipm nnd vet so firm with them, that
by the time they are old enough to
work, they will do anything you want
them to. That pair of bay geldings
that you drive is the finest in the
country, and it is because you have
takeu such p:\Ins in breaking them.
Now if you had done as well by your
children as you have by your colts,
they would be just as nice boys and
girls. But while you petted your
colts, you repelled your children. I
have seen little Johnny come to you
while you were in a corral trying to
gentle the horses, and you would order
him away harshly and then turn and
speak as softly and caressingly to the
beast as a mother talkes to her babes.
You know that if you had spoken to
the horses as you spoke to Johnny,
you would have spoiled them. Is it
any wonder, then, that you have
spoiled him ?
,4I tell you, John, your wife is
right. You have nobody but yourself
to blame. You have been a good land
fanner, but a shiftless and careless
* - < "\r? i i_ _
iiouse lariiier. 1 mi Iiavi' uevru u msirate
husbandman, but a very indifferent
husband and father. And you are
reapingjust what you sowed. Now,
my advice is to do just as you would
if you had a field that bad been neglected
until it was covered with underbrush
and thistles. Clear the land
and begin to cultivate it. Take an interest
in your wife aud children, and
it may not be too late for you to secure
a happy home. Be kind to your boys
and girls, and yet firm with them, as
you are with your horses, and they
will learn to love you and obey you."
I write out the substance of this con
veisation because I mil afraid that
there are a good many such John
Smiths in the world. Men who have
homes ought to know how to husband
them. Husband is defined by Webster,
"To use in the manner best suited
to the greatest effects." Every head
of the family has a grand opportunity.
What noble men and women have
gone forth from the well-cultivated
homes of Christendom to bless their
country and the world! All our
homes should be thenureries of plants
of righteousness. But to have a good
nursery one must devote time and
thought and toil to it. It won't grow
IlIJU 1IUU1IMI Ul USUI, uutaivu n.#?.
Neither will a home.?Herald and
Presbyter.
In a little book 011 "Evangelistic
Work," by Rev. Arthur T. Pierson,
we find the author indulging in the
most melancholy reflection in regard
to the slow rate of conversion to
Evangelical Christianity, both at
home and abroad. The writer says :?
Those who have made a study of the
matter, taking a survey of the whole
area of Protestant and Evangelical
Christendom, and the average accessions
by conversion for the half-century
past, tell us that the increase is
about seven converts yearly to every
one hundred church members. If
this be true?and it tallies with such
conclusions as we have been able to
make from a tolerably broad induction
from facts,?we are making such
slow progress toward the world's
evangelization that we are gaining
from the world only about four new
converts a year for every hundred professional
disciples.
At such a rate, even had we unlimited
time for the work, it would take
half a millenium of years for the thirty
millions of Protestant Christians to
rcai'll l 111? Hill l Ul lilt) lauc UKjyy nil nout
the gospel. The melancholy fact
is that the population of tho world is
more rapid in its increase and displacement
than the church is in its evangelizing
march. With all the progress
made, after all the triumphs of the
gospel, and notwithstanding all the
open doors and multiplied facilities of
communication and impression, the
host of the unsaved is undoubtedly
vaster to-day than it has been at any
previous age of human history.
These are not the only conditions
that complicate the great problem.
The Church ilsclf lacks picly, and
therefore power. We have conceded
that one-half the race is already
evangelized ; but is this true ? There
are millions nominally connected with
Romish, Oreek, and Oriental, and
Protestant, and Occidental communities,
and even churches who are sunk
and buried in ignorance, superstition,
and virtual idolatry.* There are mil
lions more wno navu *i lunii ui guunness,
l>ut deny the power thereof; and
yet millions more who, in the very
blaze of gospel light, live in irreligion,
immorality, and infidelity.
Such, then, is the problem, and such
some of the factors and elements
which enter into and complicate it.
The host of the unsaved is a vast
multitude. Practical indifference as
to the peril of lost souls is eating like
dry rot at the very foundations of
evangelistic effort; and who is sufficient
for these things? ?
. Putting
Auiiy the Stove.
When putting away a stove for the
summer, first cleau it out well. Before
taking it down, while there is a
coal fire in it, throw in a handful of
salt. When the fire is out and the
stove cold, takeout the ashes, and with
a coal chisel remove the clinkers,
which will have been loosened by the
salt. Place some large, heavy newspapers
011 the floor under the funnel,
extending from the chimney hole to
the hole in the stove where the piping
fits 011, also around the stove to preveut
any soot falling 011 the carpet.
Move out the stove, keeping the piping
on until the funnel is out of the chimney
hole about two inches. Take the
l'unuel carefully from the stove, and
carry it into the yard, shake it into
the ash barrel, and lay aside. Clean
out of the stove as much of the soot
around the drum and back as can be
conveniently removed. With a brush
broom brush out the inside, taking
care to keep mouth and nose covered
while doing it. If the liuing is adjustable,
take out and do up each piece
separately in newspaper, and you will
not lie so likely to have it broken
when wanted for use. Take oft' doors,
feet, and whatever can be readily removed
to lighten its weight, and have
it carried to the place it is to occupy
for the summer. Put on the l'eet,
doors, etc., and it is ready for the final
oiling or blacking, whichever is desired.
The usual way is to go over
the whole surface of the stove with
kerosene, being careful that the oil
goes into every crevice. This keeps
the stove from rusting. Another and
by far better way, is to cut up the
quantity of polish wished, and instead
of water, use warm melted lard.
Rub the mixture thoroughly over every
part of the stove and funnel.
Tliis wsiv hils liPi'll liv ii frifiinl
of ours with excellent succeess for
some years. If the stove is to be put
into :i closet, to be sure, the blacking
cnu be done J?efore it is placed away.
When the stove is blacked put in the
inside on the grate the packages of
lining, and in the lower part the
wrench, and the funnel close by. lie
sure that the place in which it is stored
is perfectly dry, or will have cause you
to regret ever taking it down. Do not
on any account place it away in a
damp cellar or a shed that is leaky ;
rather let it remain up all summer,
no matter how small the room may be.
If a stove is put away in a dry place,
and cleaned according to the directions
given, when taken out in the fall
it will be in excellent order to put up
for the winter.?American Cultivator.
Begin to give as soon as you begin to
get, and this will prevent a growing
selfishness.
The Wonderful Lamp.
A little ragged errand boy was busy
one day in the city of London with a
piece of chalk in his hand, trying to
write on a wooden gate thisveres from
the Bible: "Thy word is a lamp to
my feet." He was so busy with his
work that he did not notice a kindlooking
old gentleman, who, after
walking slowly past him twice, returned,
and stood behind watching him.
"My," said the little fellow, repeating
the letters aloud, as he wrote them
with the chalk ; f-double e-t, feet."
"Well done, my little man, well
done," said the old gentleman.
"Where did you learn that ?"
"At the ragged school, sir," said the
boy, who was half frightened, thiuking
perhaps the old gentleman would
l-imul him over to the nolico for writ
ing on the gate.
"Don't be afraid, my boy. I'm not
going to hurt you. So you learned
that text in the ragged school? Do
you know what it means?"
"No, sir," said the boy.
"What is a lamp?"
"A lamp? Why, a lamp! It's a
tbiug that gives light."
"And what is the word here spoken
of."
"It's the Bible, sir."
"That's right. Now how can the
Bible be a lamp and give light?"
"I dun' no," said the boy, "'cept
you set it on fire."
"There is a better way than that,
my lad. Suppose you were going
down some lonely lane on a dark
night, with an unliglited lamp in
your hand, and a box of matches in
your pocket, what would you do?"
"Why, light the lamp, sir," said
the boy, surprised that any one should
ask such a simple question.
"What would you light it for?"
"To show me the road, sir."
"Very well. Now suppose you
were walking belliud me one day, and
snw mr> <lrnn ft sliillinc. what would
you do?"
"Pick it jup and give it to you, air."
"But wouldn't you want to keep it
yourself?"
"Should want to ; but I wouldn't do
it."
"Why not?"
"Because that would be stealing,
and the Bible says we mustn't steal."
"And is the Bible called a lamp because
it shows us the right way to
walk in ?" asked the boy.
"That's just it, my lad. And now
do you think it worth while to take
this good old lamp, and let it light
you right through life?"
"Yes, sir."
"Why?"
"Because if I'm honest I shan't
stand no chance of going to prison."
"AnU what else V"
The boy thought a moment, ami
then said : "If I mind the Bible I
shall go to heaven when I die."
"Yes, that's the best reason for using
this lamp. It will show you the
right way to heaven. Good-by, my
lad. Here's a shilling for you. Mind
you use this lamp."
"Sir," said the little fellow, clasping
the shilling, and taking off his
ragged cap, "I'll mind."
One thing for which David used the
Bible was?light.?JRich. Newton, D.
D.
How to Hill GrnxM niul Weed*.
If the battle against the weeds is
kept up until the end of the growing
season, for a few years, the expenso
will be very much lessened. It is a
great mistake to give the weeds a
chance to seed in the autumn. Many
are careful to keep the weeds down the
first of the season, but cease their efforts
when they think it is no longer
necessary to keep them down for the
i _r- i.i._ L mu
Deuent ui iut* present urup. iiic,y givt;
the weeds a chance to seed and the
grass time to increase and strengthen
its roots for another year. How often
we see farmers fight the battle with
twitch grass, hoeing five or six times
in May and June, and at the very
time when they might kill it let
it rest, and, by so doing, give it a
chance in tneautumn to fill the ground
with roots, so that the following year
the battle must be fought over again,
with no better success. Thus year after
year the ground is filled with this
troublesome grass, and the belief is entertaiucd
that it can be killed only by
digging out nil the roots; when the
fact is, there are but few troublesome
plants so easily killed, if properly understood.
The time to kill it is not in the spring,
but in the summer. No amount of
spring hoeing will kill it, because the
roots at that season will live without a
top for many weeks; but during August,
if the root is deprived of its top,
it will die. Consequently, if the top
is cutofF just below the surface of the
ground at that time, it is very sure to
die. To make sure work of it, it is
best to hoe the ground over the last of
July, and again a week or ten days
later. A sharp hoe should be used and
care should be taken not to leave the
end of a single root above the ground,
for, if not cut below the surface, it does
not decay, but dries, and thus preserves
life at the bottom ; but when
cut below the surface the whole root
will decay, if left undisturbed until
warm until weather is over. On this
point we speak with confidence, because
we have given it a thorough
trial.?Massachusetts Plowman.
No Weeping-->To Reaping.
There are few more inspiring chapters
in the biographies of many of the
bravest and the best than those which
record their early struggles with poverty
and stern adversities. Many a
great artist mixed his first colors with
tears. Heroic John Todd, of Pittslleld,
when lie footed it to New Haven
to enter college, was compelled to
.sleep through a cold night night under
si bush by the roadside from sheer
lack of money to pay for his lodgings.
If he had lost heart then, the New I
England pulpit would have lost the t,
sturdiest Puritan of these modern h
days. Godly mothers also can bring
their testimonies of the tears, the b
prayers, the self-denials, and the faithful
trainings of sons and daughters ii
whose after careers have brought lion- t;
or and joy to the parental heart. The
love-tears soaked both the soil and the tl
seed, or there had been no harvest.
We pastors, too, have our experiences; t
we have often known what it was to
go forth weeping, bearing our load of a
seed, and to cpme back singing, laden
with the sheaves. God never makes i
his choicest blessings too cheap. Let "
every young minister who means to
reach the highest usefulness lay his e
a i- . l. i
aCUUUIil LU WliU lllliJ? Ilia ?>?CftC3t *
pleasures will be wrought out of his
sharpest pains, ami hardships will r
pioneer his richest harvests. I
As this world is only a trainingschool
for a better world, God's dia- I
cipline commonly runs along these C
same lines. The seeding in sorrow
brings the reaping in song. Some of i
my readers may be now treading the o
furrows of affliction with moistened
eyes and trembling steps. Good s
friends, do not let your tears blind s
your eyes, either to God's love or your
own duty, When sorrow is allowed a
to settled in the heart, it often turns P
the heart into a stagnant fen of bitter 8
waters, in which sprout all manner of
noxious reeds of murmuring and self- e
ishness and unbelief. Turn that sor- fi
row outward into a current of sym- t
pathy with others, and it may drive
many a wheel of benevolence. Tears b
are often wonderful fertilizers of the v
soul; they are the heart-water that J
grows some sweet graces, just as the
Irrinr??linw hrAnb-a in fnril hni<. 1
ren sand into a garden. Sow on, ye t
suffering ones; you will be the better f<
men and women for this severe school- n
ing. If faith grows, and unselfish
love grows, and patience grows, then t
sorrow will end in song, and weeping rJ
will bring the reaping.?The Iicv. T. u
L. Cuyler. ' c
Sunday-School Cooks Deteriorating.
1
"That Sunday-school books have a
very generally lost their distinctively ?
religious character," says a secular
paper, "is a feature of the times."
He then says: "That it is deemed
suflicient that they have a moral ten
dency, and they mostly consist of novels."
Jti
This witness is true. And many of
the novels are poor trash. We could
give the names of men and women
whose stories are found in most of the
Sunday-school libraries, ami who have
made fortunes by, writting them, ,
where the fact that the books are not
immoral is all that can be said in their
favor.
s
The free use of the books found in ^
many Sunday-school libraries is pernicious
to children. One of the prom- ^
inent members of a Methodist Episco- a
pal church, to our knowledge, has ^
long refused to allow his children to j
bring home books from the library, he
preferring to select and purchase for J.
them.
A boy who was punished for reading
a flimsy novel on Sunday astonished ?
his mother on the following Sabbath j
by bringing home the same book from
the Sunday-school library. A few
good works of fiction worthy the ,(
name of moral will not injure such
libraries?may, indeed, be an advantage
to them?but when the majority
are of that class, and when cheap
wishy-washy stories that weaken the ^
miiul nnd instead of introducing the
? ? ? j ? O
germs of manly virtue, perpetuate
puerile /sentimentality, constitute the
bulk of such libraries, their influence
r
becomes more than doubtful.
?
The Richmond Religious Herald
says : "The subject of 'Publications'
was before the Presbyterian Synod in
North Carolina, and a very sprightly
speaker arose and spoke as follows:
'Some of our Sunday-school publica- ^
tions are of a questionable character.
Not long ago I was glancing over one
of these, when I happened to light
upon an account of some matters in 11
Texas ; and pretty soon I found myself
in the midst of a very graphic account 11
of a fight between a man and a bear.
Presently I came to this sentence:
"As this book is intended for Sunday
reading, we must make this story of
the bear-fight short." ' " R
We commend greater care in the ^
choice of books and in appointment of a
the committees who select the books.
... ii
How to Reftch the Masses. v
The selfish and luxurious tendency
of Christians was, to go to their com- Sl
fortablc places of worship, whereas n
their first duty was to go and fetch the 11
people. It did not matter how they s,
did it, where there was a will there ,
was a way, and if they could drive
Christians into the open-air, they 11
would be sure to find a way. A wise tl
word on this subject had bceu spoken f(
by Mr. Moody at a convention held to .
consider how to reach the lapsed masses.
After all the learned Divines had e
spoken at great length and with great b
fluency and wisdom for about six tl
hours, Moody, rose and said : "Well,
brethren, the time litis come to close '
this convention. We have only three n
minutes left, but I can tell you my g
views. If you want to get at the v
lapsed masses you must c/o and fetch
them?JIuffh Price Hughes.
It is better for our hopes to die now n
1 than for our souls to die hereafter. il
A Railway Catechism. " <
How many miles of railway in the I
Jnited .States? One hundred and fif- f
y thousand six hundred miles, about 1
lalf the mileage of the world. s
How much have they cost? Nine t
ill ion dollars.
What is the average cost of- construct- i
ng a inilo of railroud ? At present I
ime about $30,000. s
How many people are employed by {
hem? More than 1,000,000. <
Who built the first locomotive in
he United States? Peter Cooper.
How long does steel-rail last with i
verage wear? About 18 years. <
What is the cost -of a palace sleep- :
ngcar? About $15,000, or $17,000 if I
'vestibuled." 1
What is the cost of a high-class 1
ight-wheel passenger locomotive? <
l hrrnt cq nnn 1
What is the longest American rail- I
oad tunnel? Hoosac tunnel, on the I
'itchburg Railway, (4:}miles).
What is the highest railroad in the
Jnited States? Denver and Rio
Jrande, Marshall Pass, 30,852 feet.
What is the highest railroad bridge
11 the United States? Kinzua viaduct,
n the Erie Road, 305 feet high.
What is the longest railway bridge
pan in the United States? Cantilever
pan, in Pougkeepsie bridge, 548 feet.
What is the longest mileage operated
by a single system? Atchison, Toieka
aud Santa Fe system, about
,000 miles.
What line of railway extends farthst
East and West? Canadian Paciic
Railway, running from Quebec to
he Pacilie ocean.
What road carries the largest n"m>er
of passengers? Manhattan Elected
Railroad, New York, 525,000 a
lay, or 191,625,000 yearly.
What is the fastest time made by a
rain? Ninety-two miles in ninetyhree
minutes, one mile being made in
arty-six seconds, on the Philadelphia ;
Jul T?psi(limv "RflilfnArl
What is the fastest time made be- <
ween Jersey City and San Francisco ? i
?liree days seven hours thirty-nine ;
uinutesand sixteen seconds. Spe- i
ial theatrical train, 1876.
What are the chances of fatal accid- i
nts in railway travel? One killed in J
0,000,000. Statistics show that more
re killed by falling out of windows I
han in railway accidents. I
? * '
What the Dcacou was Good Tor. !
A. E. Dickinson, editor of the Rcli- s
ions Herald, of Richmond, Va., was 1
filing the Philadelphia Baptist Asso- i
iation the other day how necessary it
i-as to enlist the active services of ev- 1
ry member of the congregation, when I
ome one pertieutly asked : "What are
ou going to do with a man that can't 1
lo anything?" ]
"That's u mistake," returned the re- i
erened journalist. Every man is ol' i
ome use. If he can't do one thing he I
an do another. The point is to find >
ut just what he is fit for, and having s
ound out put him at it. This recalls I
n actual experience I once had in a I
lackwoods congregation in Virginia. 1
t iwas my first visit among the people
nd I was anxious to make it successul.
It should be remembered that
hurch ill the backwoods means a
athering of all the people and a good i
nany dogs. After the opening hymn ]
called on old Deacon Blank to lead 1
is in prayer. '
'"Taint no use askin' me," he said; j
"I can't do it." ]
"Suppose you start the next hymn, ,
hen." '
"Can't sing, either." ]
"How about taking up the collec- '
ion? I guess you can manage that!" (
"Xo, I'm a bad hand at getting |
round. Better erefc some one else." i
"Noticing that the old fellow car- i
ied a stout walking-stick, an idea was i
uprgested. i
"Well, brother, do you think you're <
ble to keep out the dogs?" s
"You bet I air," he confidently re- (
lied. Then, taking a seat at the <
oor, he battled with the brutes hrougliout
the meeting, and, after <
> was over, more than one of the con- ]
rogation was followed home by yelp- <
ug curs with broken limbs. ;
Ivory man has his sphere of useful- i
ess.?Philadelphia Bulletin. (
]
What Does Jolnniy Read ?
i 2
"Oh, everything," says his father, j
roudly. "Johnny is a perfect book- ,
orm, and we just have to drive him
way from his books." ,
Sorry to hear it, master Johnny ; a .
:ve boy has 110 business to be a bookr'orm.
It is no more a sign of a smart
oy to be a great reader than it is of a
trong man to be a great eater. One
lay read too much as well as oat too (
iiifli iiml thr? hriiin ji?s u'pll ns t.bn i
tomach bo loaded with undigested
)od that is only au injury to it. It is
ot what you eat, but what you digest,
bat makes you strong. It is not the
>od in your stomach, but the food
ike 11 up by the wonderful machiury
of your body and made over into
lood, and bone and nerve, and sinew,
liat keeps up the daily growth of
our body, aud builds you up into a
lan. And just so the food which you
ive your mind must be taken up and
forked over, and become part of the
liiul itself, or it is good for nothing,
f it has no nutrition in it, nothing to
lake new thoughts ami new ideas, if
t cannot give something to the mind, i
31* awaken something in it, then it is
jhaff, rubbish, poison, anything but
food. Half a dozen lines of'the right
sort, read in the right way, are worth
volumes of trasb, or even of good
sense carelessly read and then fcrgot;en.
Don't throw away your books, Johnay,
but learn to go through them as
;he miner goes through his panful of
sand and quartz, watching for the
jleam of gold and carefully picking
)ut the precious bits.
And we should like to say to
Johnny's father and mother, do not
rest satisfied while your boy "reads
jverything." It i9 a direful day for
>*ou have neglected to direct and culivate
his taste until he has come to
je a mere devourer of the stories of
wild, improbable adventure and exiting
fiction, which is poured out
like a flood for the destruction of our
ooys ; but even yet you can do somehiug
to counteract the evil if you are
ivilling to work for it?taking your
;liild with you into the field ot art, of
listory, and of science, which may
je made as charming to the unfolding
nind as the regions of romance.
One day a modest, gentle pilgrim
)ver eighty years of age, was looking
)n Fulton street for a hardware store
)uce known to her. Not being able to
;iud it, and from feebleness becoming
more confused, she entered another
store to make inquiries. Having been
rightly directed, she pursued her
juest.
A young man standing at the coun:er
had been much interested in her inluiries,
and by her winning face and
iiKniiisr. He asked the proprietor if
ne could tell him who she was, for he
felt like sending her a Thanksgiving
present. It was so ordered by provi
tlence that her name and address were
an the books of the establishment, as
she supplies them at times with little
Articles of her own make ; therefore it
was given to the boy who gladly start2d
of!'. He told his story to a few
schoolmates and his teacher, the result
being a barrel of provisions,
unough to last the old lady nearly all
winter?potatoes, cabbages, tea, sugar,
ipples, etc., capped off by a large
home-made mince pie!
When sent to her tenement, she refused
to take it, certain it was a mistake
; but thecartman would leave it;
ind the old lady was dumb with joy
ind astonishment.
She said to me: "Why, I never had
such a thing to happen to me in all
my life before. I can only keep saying,
'Great are thy tender mercies, 0
Lord ! Thou openest thy hand and satisfiest
the desire of every living
thing.' "
How many boys and girls could
lighten up the dwellings and hearts of
[)oor, aged people during the holidays,
if they would but seek out me truly
needy and deserving, who are never
found clamoring at the door of public
ind private charities ? A very small
jiim from each one of half a dozen will
[ill a barrel with wholesome food, and
fill a lonely dwelling with gladness.?
Christian at Work.
True Liberty.
How false is the conception, how
frantic the pursuit, of that treacherous
phantom which men call liberty!
f here is 110 .such thing in the universe.
There never can be. The stars have
it not; the earth has it not; all men
liave the mockery and semblance of it
>nly for their heaviest punishment.
The enthusiastic would reply that by
l!l r. UKartw
Liuerbjf lit* muitiJi mo ia?v \ji uuviiji
Then why use the single and misunlerstood
word? If by liberty you mean
Llie chastisement of the passions, discipline
of the intellect, subjection of
;he will; if you mean the fear of inlictiug,
the shame of committing, a
>vrong; if you mean respect for all
who are in authority, and consideration
for all who are in depeulency;
veneration for the good, mer
y to the evil, sympathy for the weak
-if you mean, in a word, that service
which is defined in the liturgy of the
English Church to be "perfect freeiom,"
why do you name this by the
same word by which the luxurious
Mean license, and the reckless mean
hange?by which the rogue means rapine,
and the fool equality; by which
;he proud mean anarchy, and the malignant
mean violence? Call it by
my name rather than by this, but its
jest and truest test is obedience.?Jtunt
in.
For, brethren, ye have been called
into liberty; only use not liberty for
... 4\~.U />??,/
I Li OCUUMUll IU H1C nvaiJ,?-L Km.
A Poiut iu Maimers.
Learn to be a man of your word.
Jue of the most disheartening of all
lungs is to be associated iu an underaking
with a person whose word is i
lot to be depended upon?and there
ire plenty of them in this wide world,
people whose promise is as slender a
iie as a spider's web. Let your given
,vord be as a hempen cord a ehain of ;
wrought steel, that will bear theheavest
sort of strain. It will go far in ,
naking a man of you; and a real man ,
s the noblest work of CJod; not a
ump of moist putty, moulded and !
ihaped by the last influence met with ,
;hat was calculated to make an imjression
; but a man of forceful, energized,
self-reliant and reliable charcter, 1
i positive quantity that can be calcu- j
ated upon.?Christian Standard. i
Jesus does not say, "Lo, T wilt be i
,vith you," but "Lo, I am with you." J
' Wk
Day By Day.
?
Looking upward every day,
Sunshine on our feces: ? ?%?$
Pressing onward every day
Toward the heavenly places.
Growing every day in awe,
For Thy name is holy;
Learning every day to love
With a love more lowly. ?' , -Q
Walking every day more close - * To
our Elder Brother;
Growing every day more true
Untoone another. N yEs
Leaving every day behind / ''
Something which might hinder;
Running swifter every day,
Growing pnrer, kinder.
Lord, so pray we every day,
Hear us in Thy pity, . i
That we enter in at last
To the holy city.
The following beautiful illustration
of the simplicity and the power of ^
truth is from the pen of S. H. Ham- '
mond. formerly editor of the Albany
Mate Register. He was an eye-wit- -
- r xi 1 _ + it L?_i T"i TIB
ness 01 me scene in one 01 me nigner
courts: -V
A little girl, nine years of age, was ?
offered as a witness against a prisoner
who was on trial for a felony commit- -. 3
ted in her father's house.
"Now Emily," said the counsel for
the prisoner, upon he being offered
as a witness, "I desire to know if you f
understand the nature of an oath?",
" I don't know what you mean," |
was the simple answer. '
"There your honor," said the coun- '
sel, addressing the court, "is anything '
further necessary to demonstrate the i
validity of my objection? This witness
should be rejected. She does not ^
understand the nature of an oath."
"Let us see," said the judge, "come
here my daughter."
Assured by the kiud tone and man- v
ner of the judge, the child stepped towards
him, and looked confidingly up
in his face, with a calm, clear eye, and
in a manner so artless and frank, that
it went straight to the heart.
"Did you ever take an oath ?" inquired
the judge. The little girl step- jig
ped back with a look of horror, and
the red blood mantled in a blush all - 'Is
over her face and neck as she answercd!
"iNo sir."
She thought he intended to inquire if.
she had ever blasphemed.
'ii
"I do not mean that," said the judge
who saw her mistake. "I mean were :
you ever a witness before?"
"No, sir; I never was in court be- .
fore," was the answer.
He handed her the Bible open.
"Do you know that book, my daugh- i
ter?"
She looked at it and answered, "Yes
sir; it is the Bible."
"Do you ever read?" he asked.
"Yes, sir; every evening."
"Can you tell me what the Biblels?"
inquired the judge. "It
is the Word of the great God,"
she answered.
"Well place your hand upon this " '-p
Bible, and listen to what I say," and
he repeated slowly and solemnly the
oath usuallv administered to witness.
"Now," said the judge, "you have
sworn as a witness, will you tell me :
what will befall you if you do not tell *
the truth?" ^ *111
"I shall he shut up in the State prison,"
answered the child.
"Anything else?" asked the judge.
"I shall never go to heaven," she
replied.
"How do you know this?" asked
the judge. "Yes,
sir," she replied. "My mother
heard they wanted me to be a witness,
and last night she called me to
her room, and asked me to tell her the
Ten Commandments; and then we
"V
kneeled down together, and she prayed
that I might understand how wicked
it was to bear false witness against
my neighber, and that God would
help me, a little child, to tell the truth
:is it was, before Him. And when I
came here with father, she kissed me, .
and told me to remember the Ninth
Commandment, and that God would
hear every word that I said."
"Do you believe this ?" asked the
judge, while a tear glistend iu his eye,
and his lip quivered with emotion.
"Yes, sir," said the child with a
voice and manner that showed her
conviction of its truth was perfect.
"God bless you, my child!" said the
judge; "you have a good mother.
This witness is competent," he continued.
"Were I on trial for my life,
and innocent of the charge against
me, I would pray God for such witnesses.
Let her be examiued.
She told her story with the simplicity
of a child as she was, but there
was a directness about it which carried
conviction of its truth to every
heart. She was rigidly cross-examiued.
The counsel plied her with infinite
and ingenious questioning, but
she varied from her first statement in
nothing. The truth, as spoken by
that little child, was sublime. Falsehood
and perjury had preceded her
testimony. The prisoner had intrenched
himself in lies, which he deemed
impregnable. Witnesses had falsi
? I.!. i - J ..tl I _ I
nuu luuia in ins lavui t auu viimiuj
had manufactured for him a sham defence.
But before her testimony,
falsehood was scattered like chaff.
The little child for whom a mother
had prayed for strength to be given
her to speak the truth as it was before
God, broke the cunning devices of
matured villainy to pieces like a pottor's
vessel. The strength that her
mother prayed for was given her, and
the sublime and terrible simplicity?
terrible I mean to the prisoner and his
associates?with which she spoke, was
like a revelation from God himself.
: v v*
>... - Hi*