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n X. I In that old flower pot and make 1?, a ihinjr of beauty. Plant a L>. & (J. Ko»e and it will be a joy forever. D.& C. Roses crow and bloom Indoors or out, in pot i c garden—they are on their own roots. Our new Guido to Hose Culture will help you make a wise selection—tell you bow roses and other flowers are grown at rose headquarters and how you can grow them equally wcil. If you so request, we will send free, this valn- aliie book and a sample copy of our floral Cia'jaziue, Success with JHau trs. . . THE DIXGEE &, CONARH CO., i> West Grove, Pa. 0»»W'J T L ,, wv».Ps/ i ^r^'irv»wwwwi/« i Wright’s:: Hotel, S. L. WRIGHTS SONS, PROPS- COLUMBIA, - - S. 0. Table supplied with the best. Rooms largo and well furnished. One of the most comfortable hotels in the south. IT**, to Ml . O £\ S C3 XX A 1 O . TRIMMED AND UHTRIMMED. The very l itffet creations of the Mtl- linet’s Art art displayt d at my milli:vi:hy i'ahloiis. I am cjustautly receiving all the New Designs in Ltulit'h', Misses nml ('hihlrcii’s fiats and Bonnots. Als.» a full line of Crnjie Bonnets and Mourning V< ils at prices lower than ever. AIRS. At. RICE, ( : 32 Eroad Street, Upstairs, Augn-.tn, Cla. PAI NT. Now is the time to Paint .vour house. I have the quantity, qual ity ami the price. Orxll «xxct Sco XVXo Tha>0O Ilfs. Lead, 3,000 Oallons Rea«ly Mixed Paint?. 4. Ii. DA VEM’OHT, t»;t(» Broad Street, Augusta, (*a. The characteristic of Shakespeare is fYerything; of Mdtou, eltYatiou. a lion to light. Yours is a bad tempar. Th? gates of the arena have been opened, and this tiger has come out to destroy your soul. It has lacerated you with many a wound. You have been thrown by it time and again, but in tb*' strength of God you have arisen to drive it back I verily be lieve yo»i will conquer. I think that the temptatian is getting weaker and weaker. You have given it so many wounds that the prospect is that it will die. and you shall be victor, through Christ. Courage, brother! Do not let the sands of the arena drink the blood of your soul! Your lion is the pa'-siou for strong drink. You may have contended against it twenty years, but it is strong of body and thirsty of tongue. You have tried to fight it back with broken bottle or empty wine flask. Nay, that is not the weapon! With one hor rible roar he will seize thee by the throat and rend thee limb from limb. Take this weapon, sharp and keen—reach up and get it from God’s armory. The sword of the Spirit. With that thou mayest drive him back and conquer! But why specify when every man and wo man has a lion to fight? If there be one here who has no besetting sin, let him speak out, for him have I offended. If you have not fought the lion, it is because you have let Che lion eat you up. This very moment the contest goes.on The Trajan celebration, where 10,003 gladiators fought and ll.':03 wild beasts were slain, was not so terrific a struggle as that itch at this moment goes on in many a sou'. That combat was for the life of the body; this is for the life of the soul. That was with wild beasts from the jungle: this is with the roaring lion of hell. Men think, when they contend against au evil habit, that they have to fight it all alone. No! They stand in the center of an immense circle of sympathy. Paul had been reciting the names of Abel, Enoch, Noah, Abraham, Sarah, Isaac, Joseph, Gideon and Barak and then says, ‘‘Being compassed about with so great a cloud of witnesses.” Before I get through I will show you that you fight in an arena around which circle, in galleries above each other, all the kindling eyes and all the sympathetic hearts of the ages, and at every victory gained there comes down the thundering applause of a great multitude no man can number. “Be ing compassed about with so great a cloud of witnesses.” On the first elevation of the ancient amphi theater, on the (lay of a celebration, sat Tiberius, or Augustus, or the reigning king. So in the great arena of spectators that watch our struggles, and in the first divine gallery, as I shall call it, sits our King, one Jesus. On His head are many crowns! Tne Koman emperor got his place by cold blooded conquests, but our King bath come to His place by the broken hearts healed, imd the tears wiped away, and the souls redeemed. The Koman emperor sat. with folded arms, indifferent as to whether the swords man or the lion beat, but our King's sympa thies are all wdth us. Nnv. unheard of con descensions! 1 see Him come down from tne gallery into the arena to help us in the fight, shouting, until all up and down His voice is heard: “Fear not! I will help thee! I will strengthen thoe by the right hand of My power!” They gave to the men in the arena, in the olden time, food to thicken their blood, so that it W’ould flow slowly, and that for a longer time the people might gloat over the scene. But our King has no pleasure in out wounds, for we are bone of His bone, flesh of His flesh, blood of His blood. In all the anguish of our heart, The Man of Sorrows bore a part. Once, in the ancient amphitheater, a lion with one paw caught the combatant’s sword, and with the other paw caught his shield. The man took hi.s knife frem his girdle and slew the beast. The king, sitting in the gal lery. said: “That was not fair. The lion must be slain by a sword.” Other lions were turned out, and the poor victim fell. You cry, “Shame, shame!” at such meanness. But the King, in this case, is our brother, and He will see that w'e have fair play. He will forbid the rushing out of more Hons than we can meet. He will not suffer us to be tempted above that we are able. Thank God! The King is in the gallery! His eyes are on us. His heart is with us. His hand will deliver us. “Blessed are all they who put their trust in Him.” I look again, and I seethe angelic gallery. There they are—the angel that >wuug the sword at the gate ol Eden, the same that E?,aktel saw upholding the throne of Goi, arid from ivliloh I look away,* for *plen* hardship, all the anguisl all the privation. They They cry: “Courage! Thd (same. The floods cannot i cannot devour! Courage, arena!” What, are they all lookir we answer back the salutatioil cry, “Hail, sons and daughter^ 1 look again, and I see anC that of eminent Christians, me strangely is the mixing in coal of those who on earth could not ac I see Martin Luther, and beside hij Catholic who looked beyond, tions of his church and is is Albert Barnes and around h^. tery which tried him for 7' Yonder is Lyman Bcacher aa e court that denounced him! S all. there are John Calvin aur. tninius! Who would have tht would sit so lovingly together? George Whitefield au 1 the bistu^J would not let him corne into their pub cause (hey thought him a fanatic. There a^ the sweet singer-—Top’.ady, Montgomery Charles Wesley, Isaac Watts and Hr. Sigourney. If heaven had had no music be fore they went up. they would have started the singing. And time the ban l of mission- A heel, talking of China r o - deemed, and John Scndder ot .mdta saveo, and David Brainord of the aborigines evan gelized, and Mrs. Adoniram Judson. whoso prayers for Burma took heaven by violence! All these Christians are looking into the arena. Our struggle is nothing to theirs. Do we, in Christ’s cause, suffer from the cold? They walked Greenland’s icy moun tains. Do we suffer from the heat? They sweltered in the tropics. Do wo get fatigued? They fainted with none to care for them but cannibals. Are we persecuted? They were anathematized. And as they look from their gallery and see us falter in the presence of the lions I seem to hear Isaac Watts addressing us in his old hymn, only a little changed: Mast you be carried to the skies On flowery beds of ease, While others fought to win the prize, Or sailed through bloody seas? Toplady shouts in his old hymn: Your harps, yo trembling saints, Down from the willows take, Loud to the praise of love divine, Bid every string awake. While Charles Wesley, the Methodist, breaks forth in his favorite words, a little varied A charge to keep you have, A God to glorify, A never dying soul to save, Aud fit it for the sky! I look again, and I see the gallery of our departed. Many of those in the other gal leries we have heard of, but these we knew. Oh, how familiar their faces! They sat at our tables, and we walked to the iiouse oi God in company. Have they forgotten us? Those fathers and mothers started us on the road of life. Are they careless as to what becomes of us? Aud those children, do they look on with stolid indifference as to whether we win or lose this battle for eter nity? Nay; I see that child running his hand over your brow and saying: “Fa ther, do not fret.” “Mother, do not worry.” They remember the day they left us. They remember the agony of the last farewell. Though years in heaven, they know oar faces. They remember our sorrows. They spea'c our names. They watch this fight for heaven. Nay; I see them rise up and lean over and wave before us their recognition and encouragement. That gallery is not full. They are keeping places for us. After we have slain the lion they expect the King to call us. saying, “Come up higher!” Between the hot struggles in the areni I wipe the sweat from my brow and stand on tiptoe, reaching up my right hand to clasp theirs in rapturous handshaking, while their voices come ringing down from the gallery, crying, “Be thou faithful unto death, and you shall have a crown!” But here I pause, overwhelmed with the majesty and the joy of the scene! Gallery ot the King! Gallery of angels! Gallery of prophets and apostles! Gallery of martyrs! Gallery of saints! Gallery of friends and kindred! Oh. majestic circles of light and love! Throngs! Throngs! Throngs! How shall we stand the gaze of the universe! Myriads of eyes beaming on us! Myriads 0! hearts beating in sympathy for us! How shall we ever dare to sin again? How shall we ever become discouraged again? How %htUl we ever fool lonely again? WHU God for u*, au4 aivgel* for Aitf Fourtei Local from Coltil Central ai wrecked fl Thursday n3 a trestle ove supports wer<! teen cars went burned as well and other freigf about $30,000^ were injurec Miners Returning] The miners of the Mai trict who have been been returning to wor days without-the consenj ization leaders and the tically ended. Work has at the same terms as the miners of the state at li| at work. Boston Men Get tl A Denver dispatch] Moffat denies the repoi Smith, and C. G. bought the Raven mt in Cripple Creek. He] sisted in obtaining an property for J. P. Wh3 Boston capitalists the the neighborhood of SENATOR PALMER Announces that Hey Candidate fori A special from Sprl United States Senator has authorized the ann] he will not be a candidj tion. I.SVSvY 1KI. ’*1 las kins says lh| Van Vilet has pi-gq mol her to him.’ -'' “1 mleed!” “No—In linv,”