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'' 1 ^ i ? tl||1| M : , L 1MJ |||,|?, nam II, | | -| I ?nil II llllll _';rr"T- - j IfrTTM V The Abbev ille Press and Banner BY HUGH WILSON. ABBEVILLE, S. C.. WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 2, 1895. ESTABLISHED 18#1 1 - ?=?? =-_ >. ~m A Happy Xrw Tear, Coming, coming, coming! Listen! perhaps you'll hear Over the Know the bugles blow To welcome the glad new .vear. In the steeples tongues are swinging, There are merry sleigh-bell* ringing. And the people for joy nre Kinging, It's coming, coming near. Plylinr, sighing, dying, Going away tonlghi. Weary and old. its story told. The year thai was fuU snd tiright. Oh, half we are sorry it's leaving; Uood-oye has a sound of grieving ; Bat itu work Is done, aud us weaving: (iod speed its parting il'glil ! Tripping, slipping, skipping. I.Ike a child *n its wooing grac?, W?lh nevera tearand never h lntr, Aud a light in its laughing race; With hands held oat to greet iik, With gay Itlilestep* to meet us, Willi sweet eyes that entreat us Tin* new vear comes lo its place. Coming, coming, coming ! Promising lovely thln<s? The gold and gray of ihe sntrfmer day, The winter with fleecy wings: Proml-ing swllt blirts glnnclne. And the patter of rain drops dancing, And the sun- beamifWrrowy lancing. Dear gilts the newTear brings. i \ Coming, coming, coining! The world isa vision white; From the powdered eaves to the sere-brown leaves. That are bidden out of sight. In the steeple tongues are swinging, The bells are merrl'v ringing. And ''Happy New Year" we're singing, For the old year goes to-nklu. ?Margaret E. Kangster... A Go?mI Tip," ni?d What 4'hiiip <?l II. 1JY ItKV. JOSEPH SIIEN'TON. WHI Walliker was tempted by the ofttfrof *'a g?)?d tip," and tie MI into |the tempter's Hnare.. This was how it happened. On Tuesday, aliout noon, " he was parsing the "Waggon and Horse*,''* and tie saw a man with a tank in Iris hand, standing at the corner of ihe stableyard. Ju>t at that moment Torn Ntedall came up, and lu.iminir towards the man with the r" o ? book, said? 4,Ee con tell us something worth knowin', if ee loiks." Hegave Will a. nudye with his - 1 elbow by way of emphssis. "Wot cou ee tell us worth knowin'?" Will asked. knows the wiuning horse, an' con tell us if ee loiks." Tom slapped Will on the shoulder. ?'Ee c??u put lots o' cuoney in your pocket " Will's eyes glistened with unnatural excitement. He stuck his hand in his pocket and began to count over the coin he had. They ?idled up towards ,jhe place where the t ook maker was standing. ' Now. my hearties, ?I can give you < a good tip." Heproiiui-ed a card with . the names of the horses printed on it. "If you want to make a trifle of money for yourself, to pay your expenses for a seaside holiday, or to buy Mary Jane a new bonnet, put jour money on this horse. Ha, you thought i was going to tell you. Out with your money and you'shall know the secret. I can spot tne winner." "Wud ee tak half a-crown?" Will hked in a whisper. ' Mak' it five shilliu's Tom suggested. Will began to turn over the money in Ills pocket, and tried to count it without exposing it to view. He v* knew lie wan not worth live shillings. . ' Hence he hesitated, aud seemed inm olined to go on his way. ' i dunuer moind goin shares, Will," Torn suggested. "Can we make five ftbillin'* between us?" Will hesitated no longer. He took the money out of his pocket and held : it in tbe palm of his band, and count'ved it up to three shillings ami tbreepence. Tom held in bis Jiand two v. .. obiUingt*. They agreed to put the rive 4 shilling* 011 tbe book-maker's favorite ? bone, and spend (he threepence in a rlrttkb- tr\ i ht>ir nu n piui UI ucci auu U4JIII* vv .w.? .. - good luck. "Three-ttftbs and two-fifihs, eight to oue offered and taken," said 'the expert betting mau. "You put your money on 'Lucifer.' That is a splendid horse. iuy country cousins. I have never in all my expeiieuce of v racing had so good a tip to give my customers. Lucifer is sure to win the race, wait till Thursday and you will see." He winked knowingly. "You will, as the lawyers say, on Thursday vhear of something to your advau. tage." fir two days Will thought of nothing but the borne Lucifer. In imagination he saw the horses running and always Lucifer to the front. He however otie.or two fits of despondency. Perhaj>s the bookmaker had deceived him. it was certaiu that V;'- everybody could not win. ]f Le won, theu somebody must loo>e; and if lit lost, some other man would win. Hit conscience became troublesome. Ht ought not to put his money to risk ?nd he would never do so any more? if he lost. Rut the man was so cou.H deut that Lucifer would win the race If he did winv then by u sudden stroke of fortune his three shilliugs would b< multiplied by eitfbt, and he woulc hear the cash jingling in his pocket. ' "It will be inoney taken out of tlx pocket of auother man," whisperet conscience. ? Will winced. He could make n< answer. In tus heart he knew he hai been guilty of acting foolishly. On the Thuixlay his mast**r sent liltr ioto the field with the horaesi. * H* r followed them up and down the fur > rows all the morning. Then be tooh %V them to bait, and to get his owu lunch On going back 10 the field it was abou jj the time the race on wliich be bad p slaked his money would be run. H? ' kept steadily at his work for half-ai l hour, but all the time he was think l: ing more of the horse named Jjucifei i: 'than of Dobbin and Jerry that he waf . following up the furrow. By-and-bj he saw Tom Needall running as fas* as he could to bring him (lie * news Will stopped the horses and put hii < fingers to bis mouth and sent out i shrill whistle to attract Tom's atten tiou, and let him know where he was Toti) sprang ou the ditch bank, am t. made his way over the fence. He wa the bearer of what he considered goo< 1 news. Lucifer had won the race. Will turned the hornet* at the top o ; the field as though he intended to g< f on down again. Then lie threw tin : , reiusout of his hands and left th .-horses standing, aud went back witl Tom to the public house. He did no ' mean to slay, at least not more thai I five minutes. He was, however, sur rounded by yokels who considerec him. the most fortunate man in th parish, and he must need? show hit*| igenerosity by having a drink, ami ; treating his friends. He Would pay [for wniskies ull round, whatever the ' I cost. Half an hour later the master rodej .nto I lie field and found the horses; ;standing idle. They liad drawn the! j plough from the furrow and were con-1 i tentedly nibnliug at the young grass | just coming up in the hedgerow. The master rode rouud the Held, hut Will 1 ?? A...... | was nowuere to oe seen, jxc uiu?c| (ho horses forward a few paces, theu mihaincssed them and took them to lite stables Will did not make his appearance at the farm that day. He was having a spree at the "Wagon and Horses," and was spending all the money he had won. At closing time he was helplessly drunk ami all his money : was spent. Tom Needall was not i gone quite so far as Will, and he took him into the outbuilding, and they -lept oft the effects of their carousal 1 in the hay. Will woke the next morning with a dreadful headache, and he began lo think about the horses he had ; left in the field. He crept out of the i hay arid slunk like a thief along the road. . When he came to the farm he went to the stables, and began to put the harness on the horses Before he had harnessed one of them his master came to the stable and frankly lold him all. After severely reprimanding Will for his conduct and pointing out the serious consequences of giving way to such temptHtious, his master forgave him and added? "f advise you to get in some quiet' ''place where you can collect your! thoughts, and think about the act ofi ' folly and sin you have committed, and I | rtsolve to give up.the drink. Ask. Almighty God, in His great mercy, to! i help you come to a wise decision Drinking and bettiug mean ruin toj you. Pray God to help you to havel done with the two evils. . A few hours later Will signed the. pledge and promised amendment. He1 !bad l>een in an old stone quarry with 1 his face covered by his hands, thinking of his mother, and how it would) break her heart if'he went home in j disgrace. He had been thinking, too, j ;of the time when he kneeled at her! I knee, ana said, "Our Father." The memory of the old days broke up the: : fountain of his soul ; be kneeled once! ! more at the footstool of mercy and ' i prayed like the publican on the lloor! !of ihe temple, "God be merciful toj i me a sinner." > When he rose from his knees the par-| dori and peace of God filled him.! fringing with them ihe promise i?f better and brighter days.?British j Workman. A GENUINE GHOST STORY. Some yearn ago there was a lone house standing near a plunaiation not far from Guilford, Conn. This house nobody would ever take because it was haunted, and>strauge noises were heard in it every night after dark! > Several tenantu tried it, but were frightened away by the noises. At last one individual, more courageous than the rest, resolved to unravel the mystery. He accoruiogly armed himself cap-a-pie, and having put out the light, remained sentry in-one of the; rooms. *?? i-- i 1 Oliuruy utr utra.ru uu tut? avail* jjiv, pat; a full stop; then pit, a pat; a full >t<>p again. The uoise was repeated several times, as thougd some creature, ghost or no ghost, was coming up stairs. At the last thing, whatever it was, came close to the door of the room where the seutry was placed, and listening, his heart, too, chimed iu with the tune, pit, a pat, hut rather faster than it was wont to do. He flung open the door?hurry ekur ry, baug !-?something went down stairs with a tremendous jump, and all over the bottom of the house the greatI est confusion, as of thousands of demons rushing iu all directions, was 'heard ! I This was enough for one nic;ht. The 1 next our orally sentry established j himself on the first landing, with a heap of straw and a box of lucifer ! matches. Soon all was quit. Up the stairs a gain came the pit, pat?j)it, pat. vvueii me uinsewas uiu^b i? uisaui-i ; bush he scraped h's match and set fire to his straw, which blazed up like a 11 bonfire in an instant. And what did , i be see? Only a rabbit, which stood ! on its hind legs as much astonished as 11 wa? the ten try, I Both man and beast having mutually inspected e eh other, the biped h hurled a sword at the quadruped, j' which disappeared downstairs quicker1 >! than he came up.'The noise ^ made , i was only the rabbit's fore and hind feet i ' I hitting i he boards as he hopped from! one stair to another. The labbits had; , I not into the house from the neighbor>iing plantation, and had fairly frigh-j > i teneti away, by their nocturnal wan. | |! derings, the righiful owners thereof. I The more" courageous sentry was re-, ? warded for his vigil, for he held hisj I tongue as to the cause of the ghost. He got the house at a reduced rent, )i and several capital rabbit pies mane ol l; the ghost's bodies into the bargain.? Golden Days, ' EMINENT MEN ON WAS. : I would lecommend the members of the Peace Society, when they are eu' gating in this work, to take a view of I Calvary. I do do not sen how a mau - can claim disciplesbip, who does not i follow his Master in proclaiming peace - throughout the worid.?Richard Kuill. f "Glory to God in the highest, on *; earth peace and good-will towani > men. now uiuereni mar vs irom some who process to preach the gospel and at the same time go forward with i the Bible in tneir pockets to slay their *, fellow-men ! How different ! O, how different this is from my feelings at this time !?Jease Moon, on his death bed. s 1 Scwiim* of Lire. ' Behold, I muke all things new.?Rev. 21: 5* a Oh. New Year. teach us lalth ! The road of llle Is hard : e When our feel bleed, and scourging winds us t scat he, I'olni ihou to Him whose visage was more marred J Than any man's; who salth - "Make straight paths for your feet," and to } the opprest? 'Coine ye to me, and I will give vnu rest." B ' ?Miss Mulock. * i t'on?ecrn(p flic New V?*nr. This New Year tbou givest rap, I ponpecrate to thee, With all its nights and days; Fill my hand with service blew!, Fill my heart with holy rext, Aud All my life with praise ! Amon^ Ihe many mottoes and prayers available and suitable lor the New Year, what better than this beautiful stanza by Miss Havergal ? ' He whose life in theswiftiy passing months can be summed up.in the wor Is "service," "rest," "praise," will have a] happy year in the fullest^meaning of the term. May such inestimable blessing come to every reader of these lines ! It is an old and trite saying : "How rapidly time urges his lliglit!?some-j times as a relentless, unsparing destroyer, but oftener as a swift-winged and beautiful angel; changing, yet not : taking away this world's blessings;' making our past sorro^ v i.i'ik dim in the distance ; opening many flowers of pleasure on our way, and gradually ripening our souls lor the greatnud gloroius harvest of eternity." Of the benediction of time, Dickens has said : "Father Time is not always a bard parent, and, though he tarries for none ot his. children, often 'lays his hand lightly upon those who have Used him wfeil, making them old men nod women inexorably enough, but leaving their hearts and spirits young and in full vigor. With such people the gray head is but the impression of the old fellow's hand in giving them his bless ing, and every wrinkle but a notch in the quiet calendar of a well-spent life." Good, quaint old Fuller prayed : "Lord, give me an hour glass, not to be by me, but in me. Teach me. the nuinberof my days?an hour-glass to turn me?that I may ?ppiy my heart onto wisdom."?Dr. Kiriband, in S. S. Visitor. , fhrlntinn*) nn<l Mew Year. The Christmas chimes are pealing, softly pealing; the joyous sounds are ringing, ever louder mid clearer, ever nearer and nearer, like a s wee*-toned benediction falling on the eV. Glad ringers are pulling-the ropes, and iu one grand swell of melody Christmas, with its old yet ever new and marvelous mysteries, bursts triumphantly upon the world once more. The cattle have turned their heads to the east and knelt down to worship the king cradled in the manger ; the houses are decked with holly; the gray shadows sweep away ; the sun is up and the bright-eyed children, who have laid awake all night listening for the patter of old Saint Nick's tiny steeds on the roof, only to fall asleep at the eventful moment, wake hurriedly to find the stockings running over with toys and sweetmeats. Beautiful and right it in that gifts and good wishes should ti 1 the air like snowflakes at Christmas-tide: And beautiful is the year in it* coming and in its uoing?most beautiful and bless_ j i !i - -? ~ \r? c r\ eu oeuause ii> is uiwuya uie xtm ui v?ui Lord. I do not know a grander effoat of music on the moral feelings thtfn 10 hear the full choir and the pealing organ performing a Christmas anthem in a cathedral, and filling every part Of the vast pile with triumphant harmony.? Washington Irving. C'lirlstniaK All the Year. It is Jesus Christ that makes Christmas thtsmost joyous day in the calendar. Without bioi there would be no Christmas carol, and no Christmas gifts. But why limit to one day what ought to he our experience on every day of the three hundred and sixty uvc ; ouiuc v>iii lotiau? in c uapjj,y ujhj t>n special occasions; when tne *uu sbints or their "ship comes in." The rest of the time they sulk, or ?*roan, or grumble. BUnhy-souled old Paul, even when he was chained in Nero's guardhouse, riugs out the jubilant words, "Rejoice in the Lord alway ; and again I say, Rejoice!" Ought every Christian to be happy? Yes; aiid every one of us may be happy a'i the time if we only look in the right quarter for.our joys. Paul nas too wise to bid us rejoice in money, for 'hard times' have run some purses pretty low this year; or to rejoice hi health, for some of Christ's children will probably read this article.in a sick room ; or'to rejoice only in the hours of worldly success. Our joy, to be solid must rest on something immovable, and not on a shifting sand-bauk. There is one, .and only one, solid permanent pos-e>s ion ; and that 19 the lovjug Christ mas Christ, dwelling all the while in our hearts, a Saviour faithfully served every day in the year.?Theodore L. Cuyler, Ij. ]). Santa Clans and Clirint. Old "Santa Claus" i9 quite an object of worship, in the homes of our ['little people. The real Christ will have but few youthful worshipers, we fear, during the intervening weeKs and days. Thousands of dollars will be spent for things that "perish with tljeir using," that might make glad the hearts of many poor and needy children, if spent for food and raiment. '.Thoughtless mortals, we jare. Instead of-spending our money | for the trilles of life, we should see to ; it that the suffering hosts around us ! are made happy on this memorable iday. Shoes- for little chapped feet, | warm clothes for little shivering bodId ies, wholesome food for the povertystricken. are needed throughout the 1UUI1. J'^pWO! Ill INCWS. M * Never can there come a ime in the farthest onward reach of the celestial journey when a living soul will no longer hunger and thirst aficr righteousness* for to do ho is to hunger and thirst afierGod. Angels and urchat.gels must stoop beside us to till their golden chalices, as we our cups of day, at this inexhaustible Fountain. To hunger no more and to thirst no more is but to have our ever-returning need perpetually satisfied ; and from the overflow of our blessedness to become wells of the water of life to other souls. ?Lucy Larcom. Hut peaceful whs the ulgbt Wl oreln tbe t'rlnee ot ijifiht Hi* reign of peace upon the earth began ; Ti e wind* witn wonder whinl Smoothly the waters k!*t, Whispering new Joys tothe mild ocean? Who now hath quite forgot to rave, While birds ol calm sit brooding on tbe Charmed wave ?Milton's "Hymn to tbe Nativity," Wake if p. Yonnjc l'enr. ' Ciime dear," to the yonr snlit Nature, the mother, "You must go, you kno.w, To relieve your brother. It is now his mm ' To sleep with the Past, And he's ha*tenliiK home On the midnleht blast. Pll give you playthings Of frost 81Hi rime, Fitty-two weeks And twelve months of time, Blossomsaud buds v And dancing streams, 111 vers and floods And rainbow gleams. Corn and wheat With their golden shea\es. Cold and heat Aud ibe ripened leaves, ; lJirds 10 cheer you, Bees ta make honey, N \V I1IID IIICU illiu OUIIICII Are earning money. Hi> wHken, year, For the eliiluren cull You Happy and Bright While the snow-flake# fall." You-must haste, you see, To relieve your brother, Who is tired and old," Said Nature, the riioi her. ?Harper's Young People. Misappropriated Ail|<>cfive*. ' "Splendid" means shining, superl and magnificent. Don't therefore call every mean liltle thing splendid. We ! have heard one of the superlative expletive women say a dish of ice cream was "splendid." ' A chicken stew was "splendid," too, and when she ale sausage and buckwheat cakes there was nothing for it but to -call thefri splendid, too. How she would have described a gorgeous sunset, a dazzling jewelry di.-play or a shower of meteors, after (jailing ice crcam splendid, one is rvt a loss to know. . No word is vulgarized and dragged down more than this fine old . Latin adjective "splendid" unless it be the adjective "elegant." With some a scuttle of coal that-burns up well and makes a clear fire is "elegant,'/ while ! Wairner's "-Loheucrrin'' or the ^culp j tureTl lion of Lucerne would be elegant too. Some people have, no sense anyhow. .. . . Do not exhaust your superlative terms-on common ami ins'tfiiificant things. When the bread is good, say it is good. Don't say it is splendid. When a thing in merely pretty, say jiM thuf.; Don't say you were never so cold or so hot before in your life. You have been so 20 times. The little girl who was badly frightened on one occasion-expressed thfe su[>erlative habit to the full when'she exclaimed, "I never was so scared to deat h in iny life." ' Don'tsay it was the heaviest rain or the worst storm you ever witnessed. You have lived through a dozen such j ami will do so again. Tell a- storv exi actly as it is, coloring it not an lufini1 mn 1 lint to unit vour wishes. One of the most difficult things in life is to tell the exact'truth. It lakes a high i order, of intellect to do it. Don't, plaster any common thing all . over with adjectives-or expletives. If | you do, ft shows that you are not a 1 person of-good-judgment and, that you cannot see things as lliVy nre.- If you ! use all the fine words up over' trifles, J you will -have none left to- describe really great wansati.ins. Remember this ami -use just -plain, moderate words to describe.merely ordinary Objjectsand event-. ?So shall your 'dicj tion become elegant and expressive and not be wordy and sloppy. $ * The Power ofNHcne'e. i The one thing greater than human 1 speeoh is silence., The silence*' of Christ in the presence of falsehood and detraction was godlike. In the pres[ ence of criticism and 'exposure vice can ill afford to close its lips ; its hope lie? in the witchery and deception df speech; the blandishments .of the ?Miial Ko iiwnrl i r> /IbrjimA' rtf nn LWU (^111/ KUUOf VV wrvv. iu mwivww vf? ill cause and ill deeds, .Virtue, on the Iother haild, can ill afford to be still, for the reason that there is no wrong to be concealed. The good maf); can wear his character on his sleeve and allow his deeds to be proclaimed ou the. housetop. He ."has nothing he need be ashamed of. . In fact, his best defense, in many casp?Lis his silencp. ; To the outrageous misrepri-sen'ationa of his enemies, John- Wesley usually ; made no reply. His silence wa* often sublime. On one occa'dno, when bis ' bit .erest enemies had combined with 1 the set purpose to ruin bis reputation unci luereior^ uisoreiui wi? w?mv m which he wae engaged, his brother was nervous ami thought lie ought to speak in his own defense. He had trusted his soul' with God, and he could also lr net his good name. Time made fiis ample vindication. Silence j is often a more powerful defense than j argument.?Ziou's Herald. . You hire a man to do the gardening : at Mount Auburn of Forest Hills and fiud that he has so plutoted the shrubf ! and flowers that every bed" spells his own name; and in place of cross, : crown or anchor, you see hinv Sometimes churches amount -to just that, I place* where private names are spelljed out, private ends served, ministers j glorified, but it is wrong. Paul and Apollosnre nothing; Ood . i- .everyi thing. On a copy of a Knuli-h papet i Epps's Cocoa was so largely advertised |that a women stopped at the new? i stand and asked for Cocoa, and not .1- mi:.... ?.. line jKiper. >v iicii ?m.v i-iimv'i >> ; church party fo^eis Christ in Paul or I Apollos I hey sin. When I ho name 61 at) artist on an engraving is1'more prominent than the engraving there isa failure I prefer the photographer's name on the buck of the picture arid j the face of my. fiiend on the front. The Church should be the photogragh card presenting the face of Christ to i the world. If human names irlust be j put on. put them behind, not before.? |0. 1\ Clifford. Simple Pronch i iicFroni the Observer. ' The more.ihe Bible is pfeatfhed in simple luuguaue the more will Christians of all denominations recognize the breadth of their "common' ground of fellowship and union in Christ, j Whole to.wera of theory have been built on isolated pa-sages of Scripture, and -these huge structures lvnve heen used by contending forces t<> do battle against each other, professedly in the service of truth. Trutb.might be better served. We believe that the universal study.of the Bible on the part of preachers and people, ami the determination, to'avoid mere scholasticism fin expounding the word from the pulpit, would lead to a new experience ol the Bible's freshness, fullness and I'force." ' - ; 1 * - . ' . ; A \ew Year * Stntto. There's work for me and there's work lor you , I In the dawnimi New Year bright; i Let uh hilior 00 while the daylight lasts, Ad<J rest In the darkening night. ' For labor Is sweet In the Master's name, ' And his strength and guidance are sure; His promise is now and ever the same, To those who in patieDce endiire. i . ?S. 8. Visitor. { i ' . What Others Say. ! ; (X. C. Ch. Advocate.) -j i "Ave you in debt so as to embarrass1 you ?" This question is intended lo, ( probe to the bottom, and is one of tbe 1 tests by whieh h young preacher's read- j 1 inons for the itinerancy is determined. : No preacher can afford to lug around 1 with him a load of debt. Sooner or ! later, it'will sink him. I v ' f/f . (Xasbvllle Advocate ) Tlio lrSn<l' urnril u-lrinli von mivlit ' have spoken, but did not speak; the I j helpful act you might have done, but ! did not do-^-these are your condemnation io the sight of God. You felt [some impulse to let your better nature I assert itself, but smothered it down 1 I and repressed it. There was a hungry ! soul waiting to see your lips open, and j j your hands stretched forth. Alas ! you ' missed your opportunity. Ham's Horn.) The tiny ray of sunlight which stole ; ,iu through the crack of the shutter ] Lyesterday wrote with it* golden pen j ! thet-e words upon the darkness within: i "There is a great big world of sun- 1 | shine, just It R e me, outside.'' - Don't i keep sunshine, barred out from your | [soul: Open wide tire shut tern. Down, interpret the meaning of life from the darkness, but from the sunshine which falls upon it. The joy of yesterday i which crept into your clouded life | points you to a world that abounds jwitnit. The satisfaction youieit today upon doing that "good, turn for an- 1 j other was as a drop to the ocean of satisfaction you will find it you make | every oilier day just like this. | (Cumberland Presbyterian.) ! Murmuring is a species of blas-i phemy. You are in the Loid's guest' (chamber. You sit at his table. If 11 : you complain of the fare, vou iDSult: |him on. whose bounty you live. If: you doubt whetiier >ou will be taken !' ;care of, you impugn the truthfulness of him who declares that heis'inore !, willing to give good things to them j - that ask him than parents are to give j1 liread to their children. Mark Guy j' I'earte says : "God floes not pitch j < men into the world haphazard ; don't | cry out ho inucii against j'onr circumstances, it is half blasphemy; what you have to do is to find Christ. He < will be a match for your circumstan- < i r-pa " Tf ivp lifir) pvpo ami lipnrta nf j faith, we would see that what ever he j gives is best for us. . , . 1 (Baptist, Tcacher.) ; | ' / It is not our purpose to plead for a ] ; revival of Puritan asceticism, but to ; enter our protest against the tremendous drift iu the direction of uoere sen- ' sual indulgence, especially in the 1 whirl of - the fashionable dauce. It used to be under the ban, end .partici- , pation iu it was commonly regarded as furnishing occasions for *ummary church discipline, No longer is it dealt with thus,'but Christian parents are coming to think that the art of dancing is an accomplishment to be acquired and necessary to be practiced | in-order tha'. young* people may cary |l themselves gracefully and have suita-i ble social standing in fashionable clr-:: cles. After all that may be said in j anolosrv for the fashionable dance, the 1 fact remains that it allows the taking i publicly of such liberties as under any other circumstances would be or should ; be iridlguaiitly reseated. The further! fact remains that unless there be the intermingling of opposite sexes iu tlie I dance It presently loses its subtle , charms. Richmond Christian Advocate. jl There are seventy thousand sermons in the morning aW seventy thousand i | sermons at caudle lighting on each j ( Lord's Day. To a bystander it 'might seem the cartridges were smokeless powder, silent caps and shot of sawIdust. It is known the pulpit winds i up the run down pew. There is scarcely u tick in weak works on Saturday, 1 j nijtht. , lei 11 ne nuuiiiu-vuuic iu uui i lj tal anil abide with faintly sisters on '; the suburbs, whose brother is a brakes- j 'i man or swings a sledge, what would j 1 j He suggest'? It might be He would! ' bush tbe sermou aud shut tbe church I |l for oue Sabbath, and fend the disciples1 1 j to the. miserable, the fatherless, the j I dog licked pauper. Tbe sight of socie- \ ' j ty in silks seeking the desolate, the sot, j j the friendless and filthy in reeking 'I hovels would stir the city and still the, 'scorner, Aery would go up : Chris-j ' I tians are in earnest. | Pentecost would kindle in every; Church. (St. Louis Ailvooate.) j1 Preaching is different from all other kinds of public speaking, and some-. thing more than mere oratory or rhot-; 1 oric is needed to make it effective. A :, preacher who sacrifices strength to,' i rhetoric and force to elocution, Is niak- \ < I tng a radical mistake. When a man I ' reads and essay or attempts to declaim I iroill LUC (Miipit, uc m pel jk uuiiii^ rt I travesty on his sacred calling and is degrading the office and work of the 1 I ministry. Two of the indispensable I requisites to pulpits power, are earues'- | I ness and sincerity. , , < Let either of these he lacking Jand; the preacher is a Samson shorn of his ! looks, and has wholly misinterpreted I j the message he has to deliver. We | confess to a feeling of niiugleil mortifi, cation and indignation when we listen 1 .! to a preacher who is evidently declaim-: I ing for-effect and whose self-conscious-1 < j ness is apparent throughout his entire jsernjon. Such a man is unworthy to j t1 occupy a pulpit,, and has not learned .! the- first principles of his hifch calling, ji [ Though he may have geuius, learning j and eloquence, his preachi ?g ia but uas sounding brass or a tinkling oymhal." ; ? Ninety-Five. Once more the glass of Time is turned By January's hand, And downward flow the tiny grains Of slowly falling sand. To Ninety-four we'll say farewell? M?y all his good survive !? And welcome iu Hie glad New Year, The New Year Ninety-five. / ?S. 8. Visitor. A Talk Willi "Father Time.-' "What's your hurry, Father Time, ?can't you stop and talk a while was my greeting to the old man with the sickle and hour-glass as I saw him pass my door going to the westward just before dusk Christmas evening. Without breaking his steady, even gait, he seemed to au9\Ver, "Xo linuy, no hurry at all, just going ray regular pace, and can't stop, or other folks would miss me; if you wait to talk to me you'll linve to catch up and go along." Fluding lie wouldn't stop, I ran out, and after reaching his side I found 1 must still trot along to keep up, for, although he seemed to be not moving hurriedly, his pace was so regular thai it seemed rapid. 'Most out ol breath, I begged him, "Can't you slow up just a little, Father Time, this si?eed is too much for me." "No, my friend,?it's your fault;1 you are not used to steady, methodical licks, that's what bothers you." Strid-i iug along easily, I panting to keep up. "You see, if I waited for you, somebody else would be thrown out ol time," the old man resumed pleasautly. "If everyone 'came up to the a/>rntp)i Miorn'ii Iid nn <-><>llinrr ufror mi. to stop or wait. With all the time there is I haven't a single moment to spare: I must go on always." Being persuaded Father Time would keep on preaching and gently scolding me (and many of my brothers, over ray shoulders) I sought to divert him, so, "Father Time," said I, "you're 'most to another year's end : you must have seen and heard lots of queer things during this trip." "Yes, yes, friend, I have that. If everybody kntewall Iknow,I think next year would be a great deal happier all aver the world. But it seems that people won't learn from eveu the little they do see and hear. Why, when I started out this year, I thought from the millions of 'good resolutions'! heard folks making that everything would jo on better. But I haven't seen much cnange one way oranoiner : men uoivr love each other any better, they don't treat one another fairer, and they *eem to care more about themselves than they used to. If I wasn't so' busy I'd get .disheartened, I believe." . Here the old man sighed, or a gust of wind sobbed through the trees on the roadside. "People are so busy"? (f tried tossy something excusing)? "No, no, that's not it," Father Time interrupted, "they have plenty of time if they'd use it right. They won't do it, though, ' and they won't think, and then they fall to blaming me. But I don't mind,?I know I'm doing just right by\ all of 'em. They waste many precious minutes in worrying that they haven't more Cwhich. if thev liad them, would probably also be thrown away), and so they accomplish Utile or nothing." "Bat, Father Time," I put in, again trying to divert him from scolding his children, "tell me some of the strange things you've seen tbis year ; you go about so much I know you can tell greater tales than any other traveler." "I see the same things over and over so often that they don't seem so queer to me though, in ' one way, I cau't ever keep from wondering why people never learn anything. I see babies boru every day, and I see old people laid in their graves every day, but the life-stories are all pretty much as they have been all along. Hurry, worry and short-sighted selfishness,?that's the tale I hear around me. A year or a century is of little account to me, and I remember well, a good while ago, when a baby was born over yonder in Bethlehem, and it wassaid men would learn from him 10 be better. And many have learned a good deal, but even after he gave his life to tcach them and help them and bless them, mo9t people take it out in just learning, without putting in practice what he taught. Why, here are you people celebrating his birth to-day, but you Jou't do it like he'd have it done. Now, you, sir, [speaking rather sternly instead of running after me to gossip, and wasting time,?why haven't you been helping^ome poorer fellow *et Christmas really in his heart,? but I suppose you, like the rest, of 'em have put about all you know of Christmas iuto your stomach." I was taken aback at the old man's alutlhess, or, as I thought, rudeness. Still I wanted a hopeful word or two, ind I asked him if.he hadn't any good news to tell. "Of course I have, for although it's an old story, I suppose you have forgotten it. That Bethlehem baby I ^pokeof, when he was grown to manhood, told the people of the kingdom of God, his father, and urged them to seek an entrance there, counting worthless all earthly ties. And as I suppose you'll be making New Year resolutions pretty soon, T want to give you that Bethlehemite'^wor^MH lay down as a foundation for youa^nS efforts: 'But seek 3At firsts is kTnJBMH aud bis Vighteou-ness; aTid alfl^B things shall be added nnt<ft you.HHH follow that advice, a'ud 1*11 hSSHfl more grumbling, and no more A B slop or slow up." ' flH I was tired, trying to keep the tireless old man, and 1 had B enough to set me thinKing'xfi|^^^^flj my life.?* * * Christian Nei^HU|H "Flint Edmn'n New Y<>:uJB H mm "Flint" Edson did not getflB^^H Year's box ; he sent it. Efc^B^^B^B diah ; but his' neighbors ".Mint" because he ms only hard-featured, but ly reported that his heart stone. Nobody ever caugi^^Qj^MB ing anything away (he glor:^^^HD9 fact), and now be Was sixty^^Hfl^H age, and was considered past H tion by his neighbors. "Obadiah," said his wife, ' HH you let me have that big box cellar? I'd like to take church." She added this last^HBH ly. Mr. Edson did not approv^^Bfi| piety or of her charitable tend A I "What fur?" growled the looking dp from the pages of Oak "Leader" in bis lap. "Missionaries," faltered Mrs. Edson.4 "Not much," be answered, crabbedly. "I may lind it useful fur my-" self." "I'm sure?"began the poof^-^Qman. '.flft "You never wa9 shore in your flffl iuterrupted Obadiah, "and I'msiflHS raissunarles. Now, there was (Mrs. Edson's eyes filled with tflBH 'He was a likely boy, an' I paiSSB his eddication, an' sends him lege. What does he do? He city missunary, an' stays d^^Hfl New York, an'marries a echoWHBB agin my wishes, atir-doesn'tJ^HJ home." H "Perhaps he thought it woal<9Hm use try in' to convert you," Mrs Edson, unexpectedly ; for itHflH old adage that "the worm will "Waal, I'll be shingled!" sa'H9| out man co nimseJt as his wufe ! ? her shawl and bonneraf33gyfel9^^H .of the house. "Thet S'mnnthy." He remained silent'^jflnMHSnHN the window at the the bare brauches^^BMK^BH lined the village ed his heavy fist 71^ s<9jDHgHHH by hia side^a po/^ero4^BB^^HEHE book with a ck*qP lay at hif^feet .0pel). JJe bent 4ftme words ('uujMHnSBB^flE i ill ii itiii^HHHj^nHH^HOM^^R as ne words^HBH9QR|^^&B deep-li uedVUnnHHB ed like quiSH^^SflS9^9aHB he hiHH?HHI them with never arose carefully on ' ' HHH| to listen. VH^HHH| few minutes^HH^H^HH|^| the combimVB^HSfljj^^HI tier was expression by U^BHHH^HEH ot-^t^e closest n,'vMEHmH imagineirta^onsteri^^HHH^^HHB diab Kuson Ibree most expensive them without a murmur/ancWW|^R8 ed with two glass jars oL barber-^H| candy besides bis original purchase^H When Mr. Edson returned home^H descended to the cellar, and reappeajHj witb a b'uge box half filled with strAw and shavings ; this be carried acrotfl the yard to the big red barn. Presei^| ly be came back to the bouse, a^B witb a silent tred be tip-toed throuSR the kitchen and opened the door < Mrs. Kdson's "preserve closet." H< helped himself to an armfyl of quince marmalade (in neat papej^-topped^lasf es) and half a dozen <2pJj^4berry jar To this he added agrea?JB^ingpum kin and a bushel ot recT cheeked pies. Before long the sound ot lust; hammering broke In on the still \riri ler air from the barn. ' Land sakes !" exclaimed Mrs. Ed son theiiext morning. "What ha# he comc of my quince marmalade ? /ira j cious! its most gone !" | "I dun'no," replied hor husband '"ocp'u somebody must liev took it." J A day or two later an exprc^Hj^H on up to bouse where "Rev. Frai City Missionary," lived witl^HB9H| and children. Great was the of all when the box brought pressman was opened, and itsr^HRHj tents displayed. But the gieute^^^M pin ess was felt when the missioHBH ; found a piece of paper with s<jpe I ing on it in a close, crampfd hi^HB which bore this message: <^BS [ "Fkanklvx Rdsox, missiyiaryBMj "Come Home and convert your^Hn jdad. bring Wife and Children. fatite^^H j ?Richard liana, in llHarpy''n VjHH Pvnph-r MBS 1