Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, August 21, 1901, Image 1

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$ ZSS^E^SEMI-WEEKLT. l M. OEIST & SONS, Publishers. 1 % ^amilg Jteirapaper: 40r ttlc gromotion of the golitirat, ?ocial, gjrirutturat, and <Commei;ciat^JnferesTs of the jpeogle. | PEKMs-.-tm^YE^iypvAacs. ESTABLISHED 1855. YORKVILLE. S. O., WEDISTESDAY, AlTGrUST 21, 1901. NO. 67. NOT LIKE C By Frederick Va Author of "The ltrotlierhoi of a HI Copyright, 1901, by Frederic Van Rem CHAPTER II. CRAIG THOMPSON, FRONTIERSMAN. | T was the week of the annual g|l "round up" In the Smoky valSg5S ley. which nestles in the emsgSgy brace of towering mountains along the western boundary of the state of Nevada. Upon the crest of a rise of ground which overlooks the entire valley a horseman, who had just risen over the height reiued in his mount and with bated breath and eager enthusiasm surveyed the spectacle before him. "It is grand?beautiful!" he exclaimed aloud. "It is strange that my father has never permitted me to see It before; strange that he hesitated now. But I am here in 6plte of him, and be will not send me back. He must not I will not go." The youth turned bis bead and looked back in the direction from which be had come, and there was a pleased, it somewhat anxious, smile upon his face when he noted toward the southeast a heavy cloud of dust which extended backward along the trail as far as the eyes could reach, but which was steadily though slowly coming nearer. To his practiced eyes that cloud explained that beneath it was moving an army of cattle numbering several thousands, that their track lay over the ridge 1 W- ^nn,lln? Ott/1 fhof tholf ? uere Lie vtus giauuiu^ auu vw? ? destination was the valley beyond, where the different brands were to be singled out and separated, sorted and assigned to their respective owners. For an entire week?perhaps for two. for the number of cattle was known to be greater this year than ever before? the Smoky valley was destined to become a scene of life and activity. There would be collected there cattle and horses by the tens of thousands, rancheros and vaqueros by the dozens and scores; there would be trials of skill of every kind which finds proficient performers and ardent admirers in the wild, free life of ranchmen and their cowboy assistants; there would be fighting and frolic, danger and pleasure?all things desirable and everything supposedly attainable for Lisle Maxwell, the margin of whose life hitherto had been the limits of his father's ranch. ~ As he looked again toward the valley he could see that thousands of cattle had already arrived. They browsed along the mountain slopes as far as his vision could extend.and his keen glance could detect here and there the figures of horsemeu on guard near the en trance or passes wuere iuej were ouitioned to prevent tbe animals, gathered with such difficulty, from straying again. Hoarse bellowings aud muttering murmurs drifted along tbe mountain sides, telling of disputes between rival steers which had met now for the first time, and away up the valley glistened a lake beside which be could distinguish tbe outlines of a corral, near which he knew was situated the camp. Lisle was undetermined what to do. His Impulse was to ride on Into the valley and make himself known to the men. who one and all were acquainted with his father and who would therefore make him welcome. Some of them were acquaintances of his own. for he had met and learned to know several ranchmen and cowboys who during years past had made occasional visits to his father's ranch. On the other hand, he feared the anger of bis father. whom thus far in life he had never dared to disobey In other than very little things. "If I await him here, he will send me back again." mused Lisle; "if I go on, he cannot, or. at least. If be does so. I will have seen something of what 1 came to see." While he still hesitated the entire scene changed. The moving panorama In the distance faded from view as his Interest centered upon an incident that was taking place almost In the immediate foreground. Up the side of the mountain toward him. and not a quarter of a tnile away, plunged a madly galloping steer, and behind It. too distant to cast his rope. dui neveri neiess \v11 u me irauj iuui> of liis riata swinging in his hand, rode a horseman He was sombreroed. fringed, gilt spurred and bedecked In his best, for cowboys attire themselves for the annual "round up" with as much care as a debutante lavishes upon her "coming out" ball. The cowboy spurred his horse unmercifully. but the steer was lithe limbed. swift and wild. It ran as free as an antelope and as easily led the pace, tossing his horns aud bellowing. Young Maxwell quietly took the colled lasso from the pommel of his saddle. disengaged the loop, balanced It in his right hand, seized the reins Id bis left, settled himself more firmly In the saddle and waited. Then, when the steer came nearer, he started his horse forward by touching his heels gently against the animal's sides, guiding him toward the left by an almost imperceptible pressure with his right knee. The horse had also perceived the approach of the steer and its pursuer and knew thoroughly well what was ex pected of him. In advancing the speed was gradually increased, so that when the steer dashed over the brow of the hill Lisle Maxwell, with the loop of his riata coiling like a huge serpent above bis head, was within easy casting distance of the object of his attack. The steer, startled by the unexpected apparition directly in front of him, swerved to the right, while the horse that young Maxwell rode described a )THER MENJ _ P! 01 fit in Rensselaer Dey, fc m ei 9d of Silence," "The Quality n," Etc. C( sselaer Dey. tr graceful curve to the left At the same instant the horsehair lariat flew from the rider's hand, the horse stopI ped. planted his feet firmly in the sod a . and braced himself for the shock that 7 . was to come, and the next instant the e i steer, firmly held by the rope, which s , had caught one of his hind feet, plung- s ed headlong upon the ground, tearing E . up the earth and sod and bellowing s< furiously. i In an instant he had struggled to his ^ I feet, but instead of seeking to escape * he turned and faced the enemy with 1 lowered head, muttering distant thun- ^ der as he picked up clouds of dust and n gravel with his forward hoofs and e threw them viciously into the air. 8 Then he charged, but the horse, obey ing a slight pressure of the knee, easily avoided him. dashing past the infuri- J ated beast so closely that Lisle could * have touched him. and in another moi ment the steer was ajjain dragged to P ' the earth by the suddenly tightened J* f lasso. sI It was at that Instant when the orig- sl I Inal pursuer appeared upon the scene. 'c Another writhing, twisting coil of rope a darted through the air just as the steer ^ > was struggling to ills feet. It settled 'r I over the animal's horns and head and Beized bis throat, and the beast was 0 * ^ ^ ^ P le , The steer uae again dragged to the earth. captured. .It was not the first time C( that he had been compelled to succumb pi to the power of mind over matter, and as soon as he found that be was indeed m a prisoner his wild rage gave place to sullen docility, and he allowed himself to be led away over the road he had come, knowing that those relentless t\ loops were still fast upon him and that b< at the first sign of resistance he would a again be dragged remorselessly to the p] earth. st "Well done, sonny!" shouted the stranger. "Mighty well done for a younker like you. What outfit are you with?" "Maxwell's. The bunch Is two or three miles behind me, to the east." m "Dick Maxwell's, eh? Crescent and vl cross." naming the brand worn by m Richard Maxwell's cattle. "What may your name be?" w "Lisle Maxwell." bi "Good, good! So you're Dick Max- ot well's kid. You're a younker, sure ei enough, but you ain't as young as you to look unless I'm mightily mistaken. I saw you when you first came to this region. and that's nigh ou to 17 years ago. tt You must have been most 2 then. How old are you, anyway?" st "I am 18." bl "Well, you don't look It: not by two or three years. Is the old man with the as outfit?" vt "Yes." tb "What are you doing here? Why ain't you back with the bunch?" I "That's my business, sir. At all b< events, it doesn't concern you." at The stranger chuckled audibly. B "I've heard tell that you was sassy," of he said, "but you ought to wait till you vt grow more'n you have before ycu try to jour sass on strangers. Some of 'em b< ain't as good natured as I am. Never pi here afore, was you?" w "Never." "Well, you've got a mighty uncom- as mon lot to learn; don't forget that. But I'll stand sponsor for you with the sc boys, and that won't do you any harm. gJ! I'm Craig Thompson. Maybe you have m heard of me." Lisle looked upon his companion with added interest then, for ludced he had y( heard of Ctalg Thompson, and not a, much good of him had been told either. A man who is thoroughly feared is t0 never- cordially liked, and Craig t0 Thompson was one of those. lie was a strange admixture of gentleman and V( rough, a college bred man who for pr nearly 30 years had been adapting liimself to the circumstances of his surroundings aud gradually had become a part of them. He was one of those men whose age It is impossible to estimate. for he appeared at once older l.1.1 i and youuger than lie really was. His 11 alertness and energy subtracted from in bis years, while bis gray hair and P beard and weather beaten skin added *'( to the estimate that one placed upon 111 them. With the exception of Llsle's CSJ father, he owned more cattle than any lc other man on the range, and he had m been In Nevada longer than any of his 1 neighbors. But all of this had nothing r(l I to do with his reputation. Thct was l'( derived from a habit of his that was ?( I known and feared by every one who cc i knew him. There were frequently as > weeks at a time when he was possess; ed by what was knQwn as his sullen b< > fits, and during thos? periods It was as much as a man's life was worth to speak to him and ;Ctrtainly to cross L I him. When he came out of them, be vl , was as loquacious as lie had previous- eu > ly been taciturn, as kindly as he had i formerly been ugly, as gentle as he had vc ;en rough, as tender as he had been ird and cruel and murderous. He g as a strange mixture of saint and ?vll, of kindness and brutality, of meroslty and merciless cruelty?a iradox and that which begets more itside Interest than any other human .tltude, a mystery. "Why ain't you ever been here be-' H ?re, sonny?" he asked presently. "Or, ftI aybe that ain't any of my business ther." , th "My father would not permit me to ** ,me'" *n "Ob. that's It eb? And he gave In' ? lis time, did be?" J "No." Craig Thompson cnuckled again. h "Don't you see, Lisle, that you have ^ nswered t'other question ? That's why g( ou're ahead of the bunch. Just jump- t] d the stockade, flew the corral, lit out. ^ tampeded all by yourself, same's that rj teer you roped In such good style, and ? tick thinks you're rounded up safe and v aund at home, eh? Is that the ticket?" a] "That Is exactly the situation, Mr. n 'hompsoD," replied Lisle slowly. "When a first saw you swinging after the steer, was wondering whether I had better S( eep down the valley or turn back and g( leet my father. But you have auswerd the question for me, for now I've b ot to help you in with this steer." S( "Humph! Look here. Lisle. Just a onsider that we've shook hands, will C( nil? That makes us friends. Now. ? n m going to give you some advice, and n : strikes rae that for a kid who has a; assed all his life, if it ain't only 18 jr ears, punching cattle, roping steers, hooting stars out of the sky and occa- g] ionally pinking an Indian or a maver- a, ? man?for that's what I've heard y bout you?you need it as much as any ^ jller I know. In the first place, don't ^ nister' any of the boys up here on tj lis mesa, or they'll make a curiosity p at of you before you're 24 hours your w resent senior. In the second place. tj hen you have once started out to do thing don't turn back on any account. >o it or drop in your tracks facing it. j t's a whole lot better to be shot be- ^ iveen the eyes than it Is to be kicked ehind. That ain't elegant, but it's od's truth. In the third place, tie up 0] ) Craig Thompson for anything that du can foresee at this writing, and if D( e happens to have one of his fits on on't you mind 'em. They ain't for tj rerybody. and they won't be for you. w [ere comes two of my boys. They'll ike this critter, and we can ride in ^ lore sociably." They were soon relieved of the care a| f the steer, and then they rode on si- a| ntly side by side for some distance. y "Why wouldn't Dick ever let you ^ ime here before?" asked Thompson resently. j0 "I don't know. He would never tell tt le," replied Lisle. "Well. I can tell you." "You can! Why is It?" "I'll tell you by asking a question or vo. Didn't you wing one of my cowjys. a fellow named Cummings, about year ago when he was over at your lace after a bunch of steers that had , rayed away?" "Yes." "What did you do It for?" ucLauoc uc uuo lujpcuiuvuu "Exactly. What did he say?" "He said that I was cut out for a woan and spoiled in the making. I conInced him that I was quicker with y gun than he was, anyway." "Correct. He ain't forgot It, and he on't very soon. He's gone back east, at he left a piece of one of his ribs it here to remember you by. How- T< 'er, that Is why Dick don't want you come here. See?" m "No." "1 "He's afraid somebody else will say ei le same thing; that's all." w Lisle brought his horse to a sudden ki and. His face darkened and bis ai ack eyes flashed ominously. tl "Do you say the same thing?" he tt iked quietly, but In a tone which con- w ?yed much more than did the words w iat were uttered. m "Lord, what a fire enter you are! No! don't say the same thin.'*, but It would ol i a compliment if I did, for women tt e a hanged sight better than men. h( ut that ain't here nor there. Some si ' the boys will say it, or something al >ry much like it, and if you are going ei shoot every one that does you had 'e >tter lose no time in selecting a good y< ace to start your graveyard. You tl on't be long In filling it." I "Why should they say such a thing tt i that?" b< "Well, there are a good many rcu- 01 ms. Are you going to take what 1 T ly friendly or are you going to get 8* ad?" at "I'll not be angry." "Good. Well. I s'pose it's because >u ain't developed much. You're 18, ol id you look in some ways like a boy C( 1V1 ' 14. Your voice ain't changed enough nj suit the taste of such people as like i arrange other people's affairs for 01 m. That's one tiling. It's a good ai lice, but it's soft and tender and kindcooing. like a girl's. 'Twon't hurt it iy if you add a pound or two to Its eight." of "What else?" "Nothing else that I can just put my M icor on unless it's vour whole outfit, to ou have spent so much of your time the house reading and studying, th ayitig your piano and such like that of >ur face has got something in it that nl en don't wear much out here. It's died relinement. and these cusses hi nmd here think that al' the refine- "I out in the world belong.) to women, want you to understand that every fr a son that any of the crowd such as ju will find here can have for telling tl >u that you are like a woman is a impliment, and you ought to take it n s one. Don't get rand. Smile and 8a ok pleased, for, Lisle, there ain't no ;tter thing on the top of God's earth inn a good woman." "I don't believe that you know," Raid cc Isle quietly, but with such deep con- w ctlon that Thompson gazed at him y< irnestly for a moment In silence. si "Don't I?" he said presently in a ilce that was perceptibly altered. d< IVell. maybe I don't, but T think I do. 1 tme day. maybe. I'll tell you the story J at makes me think so. Now, tell me by you said that." "My father has taught me ever since can remember that women are the irse of the world, and I believe him. e Is wise concerning everything else, j id he would not Instruct me falsely." An onrllhla oTtint tcflfl tho nnlr ponlr Oil OUUIMIV O' ? ??V IrMV v?v * V|/.rf at Craig Thompson made, and the 70 rode on In silence several rods. "I would like to see a woman," re- f arked Lisle, permitting his train of bought to end in a spoken sentence. I have never seen one in my life." * "Whoa!" cried Thompson, pulling his orse up with a jerk. Then he jammed Is spurs deep into the animal's sides, o that it snorted and made two or bree buck jumps before it settled own again into ordinary decorum. 11 'he ranchman's face was working in 1 ae strangest fashion, but whether s rith an effort to suppress a laugh or 0 n oath it is impossible to say. At last, * lore to himself than to the young man P t his side, the Nevadlan remarked: 11 "Any man who will give a boy that t art of fodder to chaw on is a blamed 0 :oundrel." 1 Lisle Maxwell heard the words. He v alted his horse as suddenly as Thorap- o an had previously checked his and by o sudden pressure of one of his knees 1: ampelled It tb turn so that it stood di- 1' ;ctly across the path of the other ani -' fT In mIswK* arm of ??o 1 rvli f jivwwI Allf Q 1211* nio 1I?AJI aim ouui^uitm u uui, ? Dd Thompson found himself looking J lto the barrel of a ".44." "Take that back, Craig Thompson." ^ lid Lisle in a low tone, but there was a intense meaning behind the words, x he ranchman had never been nearer h eath than at that Instant, and he ? new it. But he only smiled, and j lere was something in the altered ex- s resslon of his face which Nevadlans ^ ere not accustomed to see there. All le hard lines bad disappeared. All t te harshness was gone, and his eyes," C hick ordinarily gave back a steely ^ litter for every gaze which they en- c luntercd, softened into a translucent s parkle whiie he said slowly: "I'll take It back. Lisle, every word ? f it, for the Lotjd knows that I never c leant It to sound as you took it. You eedn't put your gun down till I've got v trough talking, 'cause I've got some- j, ling to say, and after that, if you r ant to use it on me. you can go ahead. v ad I won't make any kick. I like you, ? Isle, and I would honor you for killing 0 e if you did It to resent an Imputation gainst your father. I spoke on goner- ! ' I principles. And now you listen. ^ ou've heard lots of bad things about r ie, and. supposing me to be as bad as c lem reports, do you think It would be a tn believe everv other man in ? . t te world bad tj^cause I am or every t hompson found himself looking into the ^ barrel ol a ".44." 0 an good because your father Is? 0 "ain't sense. Is It? If you know s lougb to know that we're all born of s omen, and 1 suppose you do. you ? now that a woman was your mother, t id there's one little fact you want to t e to all your life, because If you don't ? lere won't be anything else that Is h ortli trying to. It's this: Your mother n as a good woman if every other wo- }' an ever born Into the world was had, id so was my mother and the mother c" ! every one of that wild set of fellows e iat'll soon be raising hades around n . . . v sre. A woman may ue naa oeiore le's a mother, and she may be bad 'ter she's a mother, but there ain't no h tceptions to the rule that every one of m Is good when she's a mother, so, ^ >u see. Lisle. I didn't east any reflec- j, ons on your father when 1 said that, a only took your mother's part without 'j linking of him at all, and I wouldn't t! ; of much account as a friend to you f to any man if I didn't do that, c hat's right, put up your gun. Now, ? lall we shake hands? That's the tick- p . Maybe when yop know me better s ju'll?know me better." Jj Then, side by side. In the beginning jj ' a friendship which was destiued to c mtlnue through bitter trials for Lisle n axwell. they rode into camp just as 1 le van of Dick Maxwell's outfit rose ^ rer the ridge where their acquaint- n ace began. TO BE CONTINUED. ^ ONE ON HIM. J "Well, bless my soul!" exclaimed one a' ' the first citizens of Chicago, that a eezy metropolis on the banks of Lake n ichigan. "When did you hit the ? wu V" n "1 have not hit it at all!" corrected i' ie man from Boston. "The largeness 1? the area and the absence of a defl- r te nersonality preclude such action." o "That's so." assented the Chlcagoan, h s cordial hilarity a little less marked. " ly the way. where are you stopping?" a Tui not stopping at all. my dear ieud." ^ "Not stopping at all? Why, what ? ie"? s "No. but I'm staying at the Palmer r ouse. Deuced expensive place, I'll '' iy-" e "That's so! Well, it's too bad." c "Too bad! flow's that?" I1 "Well. I was going to invite you to J] ime on out and put up at my house s bile you were iu town, but since o lu're staying at the Palmer House, I 11 tppose It's no use." q And off he walked.?Kansas City In- n jpendent. t INDIVIDUAL CHARACTER, !t Is the Surest Safeguard of a People. IEV. ff. G. NEVILLE TO THE SOLDIER! i'ull Text of an Unusually Stronj Sermon That Was Preached In th< Yorkvllle Presbyterian Chnrch or Last Sunday. Rev. W. G. Neville preached the an mal sermon to the Jasper Light Infan ry In the Presbyterian church 'as Sunday morning. The company wai ut under Captain Moore, In full unl orm, about 40 strong, and there wen iresent some ten or twelve honorary nembers. Quite a large and apprecla ive congregation was present for th< ccaslon and the services were very in erestlng. Many people who heard 1 rere of the opinion that the sermor ught to be printed, and at the reques f The Enquirer Mr. Neville has kind y furnished it In manuscript as fol dws: "But the children of Israel committee i trespass In the accursed thlng."oshua vil, 1. The reference here Is to the sin o Ichan. God had instructed Israel t< lestroy every living thing in Jerlche nd to put Into His treasury all the sil er and gold and vessels of brass anc ron. These Instructions were carrlec ut with one exception: Achan tool rom among the spoils a goodlj Jabylonish garment, two hundrec hekels of silver and a wedge of gold o: Ifty shekels weight, and appropriate*: hese thfncs to his own use. This sin affected the whole communi y. It caused, their defeat at Ai, am iod said they'could make no progress n the right direction until the mattei pas properly adjudicated. The whoh ommunity was held responsible for th< in, till they used all the means ii heir reach to rectify the wrong. Undei he leadership of Joshua the sin was >unished and righteousness was vindi ated. Thus we see how intimately an indl idual person's character and conduci re connected with the community ai arge, and how the welfare of the com nunity is affected by the acts of indl idual persons. The subject of my discourse today is Individual Character, the Safeguarc f a People." The most valued possession of any mai s character. This is all that belongs t< ilm In an absolute sense. The mos alued possession which any commu ilty has is to be found in her men o haracter. Other things may be desir ,ble and useful, but they can never b< ompared with the priceless treasuri hat is to be found in men of virtue ruth, honor and integrity. The rea irosperity of a people consists not ii heir material wealth, but in their met f character. Here is a country's tru< lower and real glory. It is said that Louis XIV asked Col ?ert why it was that he could not pith such a strong and populous coun ry as Prance behind him, conquei o small a country as Holland 'he reply was: "Because, sire, th< xeatness of a country does not de tend upon the extent of its ter itory, but on the character of iti ieople. It is because of the Indusry, the frugality and the energy of thi >utch that your majesty has fount hem so difficult to overcome." Why is it that Scotland has attained uch prominence in the world and has xerted such an influence for goot pherever that power has been felt' ler territory is small?a little smallei han the state of South Carolina. Hei opulation is small?only about thre< imes as many as we have in Souti Carolina. But her people are peoph f character, and this has enabled hei o exert an influence in the world oul f all proportion, to her numerica trength and geographical size. Yes icotland has in her people?in what th< porld is pleased to call her commor eople?a tower of strength which a! he outside world has never been able o conquer. Washington Irving was nee on a visit to Abbotsford. Sir Waler Scott Introduced to him many ol Is friends from among his neighbor tip rarmers ana aiso rrom me iaDorrig peasantry. Scott said to Irving I wish to show you some of our realy excellent plain Scotch people. Th< haracter of a nation is not to be learnd froAi Its fine folks, its fine gentlerien and ladies: such you meet everywhere and they are everywhere th< ame." A country's standing, her influence ,er welfare, her very destiny are al mdged in the character of her people 'his truth is applicable to a family, t hurch. a community. Our communitj n and around Yorkville cannot ris< bove the character of the people whc ive here. Each person living hen orms an integral part of the communiy's character and standing: and, thereore, each person living here makes e ontribution to the community's wea r woe. It is impossible for the comnunity to rise above the people* wh< Ive in it? What does it take to contitute a community? Lands, anc ouses, and stores, and factories? No 'hese are only incidental. It takes eople to make a community: and th< haracter of the community is determined by the character of the people: aken as Individual persons. Get th? verage character of the people, and yot ou will have the character of the community, or nation. Let us bear in mind, just here, the ifferenee between character and repuation. Character is what a man is: eputation is what the people say h( s. A man may have a good reputatlor nd at the same time a bad character nd vice versa. There Is sometimes as much difference between a man's rea haracter and reputation, as there is etween night and day. Thank God either public opinion, nor private opinjn of men makes me what I am. Th< man who has a good character may re Dice inai lie Ilcio suuickiiiug umvu vuulot be disturbed or influenced by thf pinion of men. The man who has ? ad character may deceive his fellownen for awhile: he may sail under falst olors for a season: but his true charcter will be revealed by and by. Let us also remember that every inividual person has a character of hi! wn. While this fact is theoretically ? elf-evident truth, yet it is difficult foi ome people to realize this truth ia ? iractical way. This character is ar ntegral part of the community's chareter: and yet it is independent of evrything else, as far as existence is conerned. It is our duty to bring intc imminence individual character and tc nagnify its Importance and value. Lei s not forget that each one of us posesses an individual character of hi! wn and that this character forms a art of the communities character. What Constitutes Character ?? 'he answer to this question is deternined by our relation to temperance ruth and benevolence. The first ol tnese aeais wun sen; ine msi nas 10 deal with others than sejf; the middle one overshadows with its wings both self and others. Temperance on the one hand, benevolence on the other, truth in the middle supporting the other two. 1. Notice our relation to temperance. I do not use this word in its ordinary, restricted sense; but in its broadest, most comprehensive sense. I refer to I self-control, self-mastery in every department of a man's being. "Self-control is at the root of all the virtues." There can be no solid character without it. "Let a man give the reins to his . impulses and passions, and from that j moment he yields up his moral freedom." He becomes a slave to his weaker self. g "Praise is given in the Bible, not to the strong man who taketh a city, but > to the stronger man who ruleth his own ( spirit. Nine-tenths of the vicious desires that degrade society, and which, when indulged, swell into crimes that disgrace it, would shrink into inslgnifl' cance before the advance of valiant - self-discipline, self-respect and selft control. By the watch'ul exercise of these virtues, purity of heart and mind 3 becomes habitual, and the character Is built up In chastity, virtue and temperance." There must be self-control before there can be any stability of character. A man that Is not able to control himself Is absolutely helpless In the achievement of victories In the world, " He Is led about by every passing wind and Influence. The character cannot 1 be what It ought to be without a careful I discipline of self?a rigid, well-rounded. persistent training of the heart, mind and will. There must be a self-denial and a taking up the cross?a restraining and a constraining?a holding back of self ' when there Is a tempetation to self-in dulgence and a pressing forward of self when there Is an Inclination not to go f In the right direction, j A man must know himself; he must j educate himself: he must control himself, before he can possess a character j that has any moral force and power for j good. Self-knowledge, self-culture and c self-control are the essential elements , of solid and genuine character. This is I the right kind of temperance, wellI rounded, symmetrical, comprehensive, j Anything that tends to encourage the abuse or contraction of any of our physical, intellecutal or moral powers Is j disastrous to individual character, and 3 consequently disastrous to the commu. nity. No man can develop into the a stability and nobility of a good, syml metrical character until he has in sub" jectlon all the powers of his being. His passions, his appetite and his affections 3 must be governed by an intelligent and authoritative will, which must be regulated and directed by right principles. It is right for a man to labor to imI prove his condition; but he must labor t first and always to better himself. If he is so tied down to his surroundings that he has lost control of them, then indeed is his nose bound fast to the , grindstone of earth and ignominious j failure awaits him. A man to be anything in the f/orld and to attain any thing: in the world must be master of the situation, and he can never be this until he has first mastered himself. 2. Character Is Determined By Its i Relation to Truth.?There is nothing by which we can test character more effectually than by truth. Tell me a man's beliefs and practices as they are related to truth, and I will tell you the character of that man. Not only is truth a test of character, but it is also regulative in the formation of character. A man's relations to the truth permeate his character?every part of it. Devotion to truth adorns the whole character and elevates the entire man:' a disregard for truth corrupts the eptire character and degrades the whole man. There is nothing more essential to good character than an unfaltering adherence and devotion to the truth. Truth is the very soul of character?its tower of strength; its crown of glory. Truth is the very foundation upon which true character and real worth are built. He who atempts to build good character without the materials . of truth, is like an architect who tries to build a monument without a founda[ tion. There is nothing that Is more disas, trous to individual character than the , want of a proper regard for the truth. Falsehood is a sin, which is either the mother of all sins or the protector of them all. It demolishes and destroys everything in man that is valuable, praiseworthy and desirable. Therefore, , as a man prizes his character, yea, as he prizes his very soul, so ought ne to I prize the truth. There is a decided, un: compromising, constitutional antipathy , in an upright man's heart against ev' erything that is opposed to the truth. : He detests a falsehood; he abominates j a lie. Truth is a necessary and all-pervad(ncr olomont In fho mnlfA.iin of' n crnnrl and successful character. And Just to , the extent that truth enters Into the [ characters and lives of the people, just ? to that extent will the community be [ elevated. There Is nothing that tends to make society and government what | they ought to be more than truth. [ Truth is the spinal column in society; and, if there Is no truth there, there can be no backbone there, i Imagine a community where every . person has lost confidence in the veraci ity of every other person, where a r man's word and promise are worthless, ; where every man suspects every other > man of being false. Could you think of ? a more unfortunate and appaling state . of affairs? This would be hell on earth. . It is truth that makes good society i what it is and holds it together. I In every department of life and so. ciety, truth is an essential and con> trolling factor in the successful car-1 . rying on of all laudable enterprises. | 1 Truth is the cement which binds the , members of good society together. It 3 not only strengthens all the individual ; parts, but it utilizes all their powers in . supporting the whole. When the char; ter of the individual members of j society is built upon the foundation i of truth, this society possesses a . strong defence and safeguard against the invasion of any destructive ? agent that would come in. Under such , circumstances alone can society proper; ly support and encourage her social, > commercial educational and religious i institutions. Falsehood in a communi, ty is blasting and destructive to every3 thing that elevates a people and gives I them true, moral greatness. It takes 3 away every safeguard against internal dissensinos and external invasions. ! Every promise that is broken, every > falsehood that is told, every confidence . that is betrayed, and every obligation . that is ignored are powerful factors in > the defeat of noble plans and efforts in [ the community. No society of people . can rise high in the scale of moral exi istence and true greatness, unless its hai'n n nrofonnd respect and consuming love for the truth. 3. Character Is Determined by Its ] Relation to Benevolence?This word l does not express the full meaning of the idea which I wish to convey. I use it i for lack of a better word. A man i should be able to appreciate character, not only in himself, but also in others. "The soul of the truly benevolent man . does not seem to reside much in its > own body. Its life to a great extent, is > a mere rellex of the lives of others. It t migrates into their bodies, and identify ing its existence with their existence, j finds its own happiness in increasing i and prolonging their pleasures, in extinguishing or solacing their pains." - There must be not only a wishing well, but also an acting well by every person , to every other person before the best possible results can be attained in v. v, a community, livery person ougnt to be interested in the prosperity and welfare of every other person's character, This will strengthen his own character ^wHK' as well as the character of others. This will bring society into closer bonds of union and will furnish a safeguard for a community's defence. But a failure te recognize and respect the rights of others and their juat : claims upon us, as well as the reckleis. " destruction of character, Is a most effectual way of destroying the very laws and principles upon which society is built. The person who fails to put a priceless value upon the honor and good character of his fellow-citizens is lacking in oae of the essential elements which go to make up a true man. He who would destroy good character?It matters not where it may be found?is fiendish. enough to commit the most diabolical crime. The destruction of good character is worse than the destruction of life and property. If there is anything that is dear to an upright man, It is his sacred honor, his stainless character. This is worth more to him than all the world beside. "Who steals my purse, steals trash; 'tis something, nothing; 'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slaves to thousands; But he, that filches from me my; good name, Robs me of that which not enriches him, And makes me poor indeed." The man who lives solely for self is a menace to the community in which l.e lives?yea, he Is a curse to that community. A man must get out of self before he can attain any true greatness and before he can be a real blessing to his fellowmen. You have heard of the old gentleman who is said to have offered this prayer: "O Lord, bless me and my wife, my con John and his wife, us four and no more." There are many who live this prayer, if they do not offer it formal! v before a throne of grace. All such are burdens to the society in which they live. We need to get out of ourselves and out of our own little circles and bring into our hearts and lives a liberality that will rejoice in the welfve of * the community at large and that will contribute to that welfare when the opportunity affords. Think of the priceless value of a good character. If there is anything worth 1lf? <? I. this. onS (juaatraaiug m iiuo IUC, ic-io iiuo, auu, thank God, this is in reach of each one of us. A good character is the individual person's safeguard, the nation's defense. There is nothing comparable to it in intrinsic worth. All the wealth of the world is trash compared to it. It is something that abides. Our friends may desert and forsake us; our foes may do all they can against us; our worldly possessions may be taken away from us;* our reputation may be blasted; but our good character no clime nor season can destroy; no enemy can deprive us of it. It is ours, part of our nature. Incorporated into our very being. Character is the man himself. Good character bids defiance to the ravages of time. Death cannot destroy it, but only confirms its eternal existence. The infinite years of God cannot injure it, but will be the sure protector and conservator of Its blessed integrity. Priceless treasure! The country's safeguard, the community's defence, the individual person's inheritance! Would you have a model in the formation of your personal character? There is but one perfect model, and that model is to be found in Jesus ^ Christ, our Saviour. His character stands alone through all history in its matchless, glorious, peerless beauty and perfection. All the excellencies and perfections of character centre and Inhere in him. The very perfection of. right being is to be found in his heart and the very perfection of right doing is to be found in his life. No character is complete that is nol in sympathy with the peerless character of Christ, and no community is secure that is not leavened with His religion. May each of you take Him as your model both in character and conduct, both in heart and life. THE ARAB IN THE DESERT. Alongside of Him the European Looks Ridlcnlons. The Arab of today is one of the most fascinating figures to be met with, especially if you meet him at home. This is the opinion of Mr. Percy L. Parker, expressed In an article on "Arab Life in the Desert," in the Harmsworth Magazine. Tne oases are utile lsianas of beauty set in a sea of sand, consisting of a multitude of palm trees growing where there is sufficient water, for the Arab says that the palm "stands with its feet in water and its head in the fires of Heaven." Without the palm, the desert. Indeed, would be "uninhabited and uninhabitable." There are some 360 oases in the Sahara of various sizes. One of the chief is Biskra, which has not less than 160,000 palms, and from which we get 'arge quantities of our dates. . To see after hours of weary traveling through the desert the lovely rich green of so many palms in such a setting is a sight as impressive as it is beautiful. The French Sahara covers 123,500 square miles and 50,000 Arabs live in it. In the oases they build their homes beneath the palms, which afford much needed shade from the hot sun. Sundried mud bricks are the chief things used in making these houses. Palm trees provide any timber needed. The houses are two stories high. But for the low doorway one would think they were high walls only. All the internal light is obtained by openings on the courtyard, round which the house Is built. The Arab home is somewhat of a prison for the women, who are rarely seen abroad. They take their walks upon the flat roofs, which are common to all Eastern lands. But few Arabs live in houses. They are great wanderers. Wherever you travel in Algeria you are always meeting long caravans on the move. These Bedouins live in tents, which are simply camel-cloths stretched over boughs. For the most part they are very poor and live on the produce of a few sheep and goats. But, although poor, the Arab is always picturesque. "The European beside the Arab looks ridiculous. Let - his top nat be ever so shiny, nis ciotning ever so well fitting-, his form ever so straight, he looks at a disadvantage beside the spare figure and the flowing draperies of the wandering Bedouin whom he despises. The Arab is poor without being abased. He is sordid without being mercenary. Even his raggedness has a grandeur about it." The chief item in the Arab costume is a white cloak called the burnous, which covers the whole figure. It lias a hood, which protects fhe head from the sun. Beneath this there are all sorts of gorgeous vests and jackets. The legs are bare, but the feet are covered with rich red leather shoes, dyed with the Juice of the pomegranate. A group of Arabs is always striking, but few more remarkable gatherings will be seen than in the market place of Biskra, where hundreds assemble each day to buy and sell cattle, dates and other wares. tiT General?Stop that reporter. Aid?What! Don't you want to have him send home an account of your heroism? No. I don't want to be an American hero for a week and a punching bag for the rest of my life.?Life.