Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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A TALE THAT'S TOLD. Rev. Dr. Talmage's Thoughts cn the Closing Year. A SERMON FOR THE TIMES Some Practical and Timely SUg gestions as tc Right Liv ing. The Signn cance of Life. la this holida'.' 1surse Dr. Tal mage takes the opportunitY Af cieiug some very practical and usr ful ceS tions; text. Psalms xC, 9. Ne spend our years as a tale that is told. The Israelites were 10 y ais in the wilderness, and during -S years of the 40 nothing is recorded of them, and, I supp)se, no other emigrants ilad a dul ler or more uninteresting .Ime than they had. So they t to telnD ,s stor'eS --stories concerning temsel" or COn eerninz others: stories J,.but the bnick kilns ef Egypt, whe re they haa toiled in slavery: stories about how the waters of the Red sea piled up int. pahsades at their crossing; story of the lantern hung in the heavens to guiole them by night; story of ibises destroying the reptiles of the wilderness; stories of personal encounter. It must have been an awful thing to have had nothing to do for 3S years except to get lost every time they tried to escape from the wilderness. So they whiled a ray the time in story telling. Indeed there were persons whose one business was to nsrrate stories, and they were paid i by such trifles as they could pick up from the surrounding listeners. To sach instances our text refers when it says, "We spend our years as a tale that is told." At this tremendous passage from the year 1899 to the year 1900 it will do us all good to consider that our whole life is a story told-a good story or a bad story; a tragic story ora mirthful story; a wise story or a foolish story; a clean story or a filthy story; a story of sue cess or a story of failure. "We spend our years as a tale that is told." In the first place I remaik that every person's life is a very interesting story. My tetS d-es L.'t depreciate "a tale that is told." We have all of us been entertained by the story teller when snow bound in the rail train; or in the group awinter's night in the farmhouse; or gathered around a blazing hearth with some hunters at the mountain inn. Indeed it is a praiseworthy art to impersonate a good story well. If you doubt the practical and healthful and inspiring use of such a story, take down from the library Washinnton Ir ving's "Tales of a Traveler," or Na thaniel Hawthorne's "Twice Told Tales." Bat as interesting as any of these would be the story of many an obscure life, if the tale were as well told. Why do we all like biographies and autobiographies? Because they are stories of eminent human lives. But the story of thelife of a backvoods man, of a man who looks stupid, of one about whom you never heard a word. must be just as thrilling on a small scale as on a larger scale is a life of a Cyrus, or a Caesar, or a Pizarro, or a Mark Antony, or a Charlemagne, or Sthe late General Gordon, who was impon a parapet leading his soldiers with nothing but a stick in his hand, and his troops cried: "Gordon, come down. You will be killed." But he did not come down, and one of the sol diers said: "it is all right. He don't mind being killed. He is one of those blessed Christians." If you get the confidence of that very plain man just come out of the back woods and can induce him to give the atirring experiences of his life, he will tell you tnat which will make your blood curdle and your hair stand on end. That night when a panther dis puted his pathway on the way home; that landslide, when the mountains seemed about to come down on his eabin; that accident to his household and no surgeon within 15 miles; that long storm that shut them in and the fo~od was exhausted: that contest at his doorwvay with bandits, who thought there might be a int-omethiog worth taking; that deathtbed. with no one but himself to couat,~ ili.erig pulsas. As Oliver (3romwell on i' naniver sary of his greate.t ~i x.::, Uo ved his darling daughter to the stave, s" In the humblest and most unpreteml :ie there has been a commingling of jladness and gloom, of triumph and lespair. Nothing that David Garrack ever enacted at Drury Lane theater in the way of tragedy or Charles Matthews ever played in Covent Garden in the' *ay of comedy excelled things which *n a small scale have been seen in the! ife of obscure men and women. Many .i profound and learned sermon has nut the audience to sleep. while some .aan whose phraseology could not be arsed and whose attire was cut and .tted and made up by plainest house ife has told the story of his life in aI ay that melted the prayer circle into tars ag easily as a warm April sun dils 'Ives the snow of the previous night. Oh, yes, while "we spend our years 3a tale that is toild"' it is an interest -g story. It is the story of an im - rtal, and that makes it interesting. e is launched on an ocean of eternal irs, in a voyage that will never ter nate. He is striking thc keynote of; anthem or a dirge that will never *e to its last bar. That is what ke the devotional meetings of dern times so much more inter~stind in they uscd to be. They are filled with discourses by laymen on the ~ject of justification and sanctifica a, which lay discourses administer *re to the facetious than to the edify , but with stories of what God has *ie for the soul--how everything sud aly changed; how the promises be tine balsamic in times of laceration; She was personally helped out and: - ped up and helped on. Nothing can 2d before such a story of personal. Sne, personal transformation, per :al illumination. The mightiest most skillful argument against: 'i ~stianity collapses under the un amatical but sincere statement. Satheistic professor of natural phil php goes down under the story of t backwoodsmnan's conversion. 'he most of the Old Testament is le up of inspired anecdotes about am and Eve, about Jacob, about~ u, about Ahab and Jezebel, about ah, about Maniel, about Deborah, at Vashti, about men and women of >m the story gave an accurate pho taph long before human photography born. Let all Christian workers. ;er mentakers, Sand ay school hat which my text calls the "tale is told." heard Daniel Baker, the wonderfal ingelist of his time, preach what 1. pose was a great sern~on, but I re-: a-e nothing of it except a stnery that he told. and that, I judge from the seeming effect, may that afternoon bpre brought hundreds into the king dom of Guli. I heard Truman Osborne preach se-veral sormons, but I remem ber no'hing of w.at he said in public or p-ivate exce't a story that he told, and that Cas, among other things, the meani (if my salvation. The lifelong work of John B. Gough, the greatest temperanPe 'Caf'rmer of all time, was the viet,..ry of anecdote, and who can ever forget his story of Joel Straton tuc~hine him on the shoulder, or of Deacon Moses Grant at Hopkinton, or of the outeast woman. nicknamed "Hell ire, but redeemed by the thought that she "was one Uf us?" D ight L Moody. the evangelist of worldwide tame and usefulness, who recently tIAssed to his great reward on high, dur e luale :abors in the pulpit wielded the anee'.ote fur God ani heav en until all nations have been moved by it. If vou have had experiences of par datn and comfort and disinthrallment, tell of it. Tell it in the most pointed and drajatic way you can manage. Tell it soon, or you may never tell it at all. Oh, the power of "the tale that is told!" An hour's discourse about the fact that blasphemous behavior is sometimes punished in this world would not im press us as much as the simple story that in a town of New York state, at close of the last century, -36 profane men formed themsolves into a club, calling the'mselves "Society of the Druids." They met regularly to de ride and damage Christianity. One night in their awful meeting they burned a Bible and administered the sacrament to a dog. Two of them died that night. Within three days three were drowned. In five years all the 36 came to a bad end. Before justices of the peace it was sworn that two were starred to death, seven were drowned, eight were shot, five committed sui cide, seven died on the gallows, one was frozen to death, and three died ac cidentally. Incidents like that, sworn to, would balk any proposed irreverent and blasphemous behavior. In what way could the fact that infi delity will not help any one die well be so powerfully presented as by the inci dent concerning a man falling ill in Paris just after the death of Voltai-e, when a professional nurse was called in and she asked, "Is the gentleman a Christian?" "Why do you ask that?" said the messenzer. " 'I am the nurse who attended Voltairc in his last ill ness, and for all the wealth of Europe I would never see another infidel die." What discourse in its moral and spiri tual effect could equal a tale like that? You might argue upon the fact that those fallen are our brothers and sis ters, but could we impress any one with such a truth so well as by the scene neare Victoria park, London, where men were digging - deep drain and the shoring gave way and a great pile of earth fell upon the workmen. A man stood there with his hands in his pock ets looking at those who were trying to shovel away the earth from those who were buried, but when some one said to the spectator, "Bill, your brother is down there," then the spectator threw off his coat and went to work with an agony of earnestness to fetch up his brother. What course of argument could so well as that incident set forth when we toil for the salvation of a soul it is a brother whom we are trying to save? A second reading of my text reminds mue that life is not only a story told, but that it is a brief story. A long narrative stretched out indefinitely loses its interest. It is generally the story that takes only a minute or half a minute to rehearse that arrests the at tention. And that gives additional in terest to the story of our life. It is a short story. Subtract from our life all the hours of necessary sleep, all the hours of in capacity through fatigue or illness, all the hours of childhood and youth before we get fairly to work, and ou have abbreviated the story of life so much that you can appreciate the psalmist'si remark when he says, "Thou hast made my days as a hand's breadth," and can appreciate the apostle James' expression when he com pares hife to "a. vapor that appeareth for a little season and then vanishes away." Tt does not take long to tell all the vicssitudes of life-the gladness and the griefs, the arrivals and the depar tures, the successes and the failures, the victories and the defeats, the ups and the downs. The longer we live the shorter the years. We hardly get over the bewildering fatigue of selecting lifts for children and friends and see b at the presents get off in time to ar "ie on the appropriate day than we see anothkr advancing group of holidays. Autumnal fruit so sharply chases the summer harvest, and the snow of the white blossoms of springtime come so soon after the snows of winter. It is a remark so often made that it fails to make any impression and the platitude that calls forth no reply. "How rapidly times goes." Every century is a bi11 wheel of years, which makes a hundred revolutions and breaks down. bvery year is a big wheel of month" and makes 12 revolu tions and then erses. Geologists and theologians go into elaborations of guesses as to how long the world will probably last; how long before the vol anic forces will explode it, or meteoric stroke demolish it, or the cold of a long winter freeze Out its population, or the fires of a last conflagration burn it. That is all very well, but so far as the present population of the earth is con erned the world will last but a little longer. We begin life with a cry ard end it with a groan, and the cry and the groan are not far apart. Life, Job says, is like the flight of a weaver's shuttle, or, as David intimates in my text, a story quickly told and laughed at and gone and displaced by another story, as a "tale that is told." But short as time is it is long enough if we rightly employ it. The trouble is we waste .so much time we cannot catch up. Some of us have been chas ing time we lost at 20 years of age or 307 years of age, or 40 years of age and if we lived 250 years we could never overtake it. Joseph, a poor apprentice, every morning passed a certain store as the church clock struck 6 at the moment when the merchant took down his shutters, each of them saying "good morning, sir," and nothing else. What was Joseph's surprise to find that the merchant had suddenly died and left him his store and business. That is not the only instance where a maa has made a fortune by punetality. The poet's verse reads, Time flies away fast, The while we never remember, How soon our life here Grows old with the year That dies with the next December. A third reading of my text reminds me that life is not only a stor; told, but a story listened to. There is noth ing mere vexaious to any one than to tell a story when people are not attend ing. They may be whispering on some other subject, or they are preoccupied less there are good listeners. Well, that which in my text is called the "tale that is told" has plenty of lis teners. There is no such thing as soli tude, no such think as being alone. God listens and the air is full of spiritual intelligences all listening. and the world listens to the story of our life, some hoping it will be successful, others hoping it will he a failure. We talk about public life and private life, but there is no private life. The story of our life, however insignificant it may seem to be, will win the ap olause or hiss of a great multitude that no man can number. As a "tale that is told" among admirers or antagonists, celestials or pandemoniacs, the uni verse is full of listening ears as well as of gleaming eyes. If we say or do the right thing, that is known.. I suppose the population of the intelligences in the air is more numerous than the population of intelligences on the earth. Oh. that the story of our life might be fit for such an audience ia such an auditorium! God grant that wisdom and filelity and earnestness and truth may characterize the "the tole that is told." Aye, all the world will yet listen to and be redeemed by a "taie that is told." We are telling it, each in his own way-some by voice, some by pen, some by artist's pencil, some by harp and some by sonz; mother tellinz in to child, teacher telling it to Sabbath class, reformer telling it to outcast, preacher telling it to assemblage. The story of the L weliest of heaven com ing down to this scarred and blasted island of a world. He was ordered back from its shores and struck through with lances of human hate as soon as he landed. Shepheard's dog baying on the hills that Christmas night was better treated than this rescuer of a race, yet keeping right on, brambles on brow, feet on spikes, flagellated with whips that had lumps of lead fastened to them, through midnight without lanterns, through storms without a shelter, through years that got blacker until they ended in a noonday with the sun blotted nut. Mightiest tale ever told, and keep on telling it until the last sorrow is assuaged and the last animosity lis quenched and the list desert is white with lilly and golden with the cowslip and blue with the gen tian and crimson with the rose. While re3ding my text the fourth time I bethink myself that the story of life will end when the group breaks up. The "tale that is told" stops when the listeners depart. Spmetimes we have been in groups interestedly listening to some story told when other engage ments or the hour of the night de manded the going of the guest. That stopped the story. By this exit of another year I am reminded that these earthly groups will break up. No family group or social group or reli gious group or political group stays long together. Suppose some one should take from the national archives the roll of yonder United States senate chamber or the roll of yonder house of representatives as it was made up 20 years ago and then call the roll. The silence would be mightier than the voices that would hear and respond. The family group breaks up. Did you ever know a household that for 25 years remained intact? Not one. Was there ever a church record the same after the passage of 25 years or 15 years or 10 years? The fact is that the story of our life will soon end because the group of listeners will be gone. So you see if we are going to give the right trend and emphasis we we must give it right away. If there are old people in the group of our in fluence, all we can do for them will be in five or ten years. If there are children avound us, in 10 or 15 years they w'll no longer be children, and they will be fashioning the story of their own life. 'What thy hand findeth to do, do it with all thy might," Passing all, passing everything, as a tale that is told." My text, in referring to the years, reminds me that in 12 hours this year will forever have gone away. Ninety nine out of the hundred years of this century will have disappeared. We have disappeared. We have only one only one year of the century left. There eught to be something especially suggestive in the last year of a cen'ury. It ought to be a year of unpairalleled industries, of unheard of conseration. Not a person in any of our audiences this day can remember the first year of this century. Not a person in any of our audiences today will ever again see the last year of a century. A Strange Case. "Mr. Charles West, of Ohio," says the Cincinnati l-Pquirer, "was playing a game of cards and his last dollar was at stake. As the cards were being dealt out he remarked: "If the queen of hearts turns up again I hope to G,>d that 1 may never speak agrain.' To his consternation the fateful card turned up. He attempted to utter an oath, but found that he could not articulate above a whisper. He has tried various remedial agents, but up to the present time he has not regained his voic-e. Maiy of the friends of Mr. West look pon his afflicetion as a visitation from God." High Endorsements. The Keeley treatment for the cure of the whiskey and the morphine habit has the endorsement of medical author ities, curative establishments and others equally entitled to respect. Be. sides this, the blessed fruits of the cure themselves are seen in the new lives of those who have had the bene fits of the treatment. The Keeley treatment may be had at only one place in South Carolina-the Keeley Institute, Columbia. Letters of inguiry receive prompt attention. It is the de sire of those in charge to give all de sired information. LAsT YEAR'S WEATUER-The Co lumbia State says "the weather of 1S99 was the most eccentric South Carolina has had for many years. The winter months of the year were unprecedented ly cold, with the mercury below zero in Columbia. The early spring was exces sively rainy; so that by May the fall had exceeded the average about six inches. Then the sun took his innings and there was great heat and drought until September. The fall and the winter to the close of the year were un usually bright and pleasant-a milder and more open so-ason could hardly be desired. And now the footings for the year show only 20 degrees variation from the normal temperature aud 2} inches variation from the normn d rain fall. Had the year ended one day earlier its temperature would have been only one deree above the normal; but Sunday was an abnormal 31st of De cember and it prevented the making of an almost unheard-of record. It was a year of weather in long and antagonistic streaks, butiwonuppeywlla Ithe end." ~i on ppet ela Christmas Inner. No ill effects need follow the eating of a big Christmas dinner if. after same, you take "Hilton's Life for tie Liverand Kidneys." 2-c ahnole. if A SAD CASE. Driven Mad by Lova for a Brown Eyed Girl. HIS MIND UNBALANCED She Had Promised to be His Wife but Married Another'When the Wedding Day Came. Unrequitted love for a brown-eyed girl dethroned the reason of Benjamin F. Lee Friday night, suffering from the mania brought on by the pangs in his aching heart, he wandered into police headquarters and asked to be locked up to prevent the violent outbreak which he said was fast coming upon him. The girl who refused to reciprocate the affection which Lee showered upon her is Miss Mollie Melton, aged 21, and very pretty. She lived with her married sister at 152 Walton street, Atlanta. She left the city Friday af ternoon for her former home in Macon. Her sudden departure is what unbal anced the mind of young Lee. Half an hour after she left the house he called with a marriage icense in his pocket and stated to her relatives that she had promised to marry him at 5 o'clock. "Mollie will not marry you, Den," said her sister to the young man when he had stated the object of his visit. "She has left the city." "But I have the license," he replied, "and everything is ready for the cere mony. Oh, this is too cruel. Why did she treat me in this way?" He refused to believe that she had left the city and begged to be allowed to see the girl he loved. When finally convinced that she was gone he went to the home of his brother, J. B. Lee, at 125 Crescent avenue, and told him his deep trouble. He said that be had at first arranged to have the ceremony performed by Rev. Mr. Oxford, but that on second thought he had decided to have his father, A. F. Lee, who is a minister, tie the matrimonial bonds which would unite him to the girl of his choice. He then told the brother for the first time that the ceremony was to take place at his house. .\ ,!,ing more was seen of the young n au until he turned up in police head qiarters totally dem":ted and fearing the consequences of hi3 unsettled men tal condition. The courtship between Lee and Miss Melton extends over a space of five months and has a tinge of romance about it that is seldom equalled in real life. Lee was a soldier in the Twenty-ninth regiment, which went to the Philip pine is.ands after a month's stay at Fort McPherson. He was discharged just before the regiment left because of physical disability. It was daring his career as a soldier that he met the brown-eyed girl for love of whom he is now in close confine ment. He was walking out Walton street one afternoon in the late autumn dresssed in his soldier's uniform. Miss Melton was on the veranda of her home and smiled at the blue eyed soldier boy as he passed. Lee went to the home of his brother and sent her a note ask ing if he might call on her. "Certainly not," was her reply in the note she sent back to him, "the smile I gave you was a patriotic smnile be cause of the uniform you wear." He did not despair, however, and a few days later met a friend who intro duced him to the girl. After that he was a frequent caller at the house. "Ben came to the house often to see Mollie," said the married sister, in speaking of the courtship. "Though she never did care for him he seemed determined to marry her. One night they we:c on the veranda just eutside my window, and I cverheard them talking. " 'I am never happy except when looking into your eyes, Mollie,' 1 heard him say to her. "She was only flirting with him all that time. He had large blue eyes, and she is death on blue eyes. "I know she knew nothing of tha mar riage license, because she is' engaged to another man who don't live here. I think Ben began to get desperate when the other fellow came up to see Mollin about two weeks ago. He was in sanely jealous when he found that she was receiving a rival, and I heard that he took a dose of stry'chnine one night while the other man was visiting Mollie. He has been acting queerly ever since and Mollie has been trying to avoid him. "-Atlanta Journal. NO LIMIT TO COTTON KILLS Interesting Interview with D. A. Tompkins, of Charlotte. In an interview with a's Associated Press reporter Mr. D. A. Tompkins, the well known cotton mill expert of Charlotte, N. C ,takes a most encour aging vie~ e tec'ile conditions in the S,uth. In reply t, a question as to the prospects of new mill construction in 1900 Mr. Tompkins said that ex peclations in this line will be fully met. "The machine manufacturers in the United States," said Mr. Tomp kins, "can make 2,500,000 spindles a year. ('hat is the extent of their tt put. The new mills to be built in 1900 will. req'iir. 1.000,000 spindles for their equipment. so that the mill con struction this year will be very nearly equal to the capacity of the machine plants to turn out spindles." Continuing, Mr. Tompkins said: "New England has 13,000,000 spsndles, of which 7;000, )00 are located in .\assachusetts. There are now 5,000, 000 spindles in the South. At the end of 1900 the South will have 7,000,000 spindles and New England will still have 13,000,000. In Massachusetts new spindles are beifig put in on fine stuffs only, while the old ones are be ing discontinued on course stuff. "Old England has 46,000,000 spin dles; the South 5,000,000; the Usited States, including the Middle States. 20000000. At the rate of 2 000,000~t new spindles a year, the present rate of increase. tn .Sears from now the United Staus would have about the same number of spindles as England. Of these New England and the middle States would probably have 20.000,000, all on fine goods, and the South 25, 000,000. In other words the United States in 1910 will have as many spindles as England, and the South will have more spindles than New dog land and the middle States combined. The British privy council held a meeting at Windsor Castle at which Queen Victoria proclaimed a warning to all British subjects not to assist in habitants ot the Transvaal or of the Orange Free State to sell or trans port or rohandise thereto under pentalty of the law. HOPE FOR THE HAIRLESS. 3[d of Alaska ruts a Crop on tho Baldest Head. The experience of Roderick Dhu SmJth, who recently returned from the Iondike region with a big budget o5 experience, quite a littie sum of money, and a head of hair which almost qualil Iles him to take an engagement Cs a Circassian girl in a circus. is of es pecial interest to a large contingent of his fellow men and women, says the San Francisco Call. For be it knowD that Roderick, before making his per. ilous way to the Arctic regions, though otherwise pleasing to look up en and still on the sunny side of for ty, was the owner of a head whick made theater ushers, whenever the a was a ballet on the program, escort him down to the front row without even glancing at his seat check. It Is said that his baldness was the real cause of his starting out in search of gold, since lie spent all his patri mony In the purchase of hair restor ers, and it was necessary for hiin to do something, no matter how desperate, to retrieve his fallen fortunes. Be that as it may, he went to Alaska, and, af ter a two years' residence there, hag returned a modern Samson, as far rs chevelure is concerned, and he de clares that the transformation is en tirely due to the rigors of the climate in that quarter of the globe. "The ir,tense cold kills all germs and microbes," he asserts, "and stimu lates the scalp, and nature does the rest," and he proudly exhibits his licn like mane as proof of what nature can do, ben she takes a ~ancy, unassisted by 4ashes or oils or ui ;uents. P1. J. McLeod, who has spent twelve years In Alaska and the northwest, al though be has not the pleasure ot knowing Mr. Smith personally, and did not, therefore, see the sprouting and the bourgeoning of his especial crop of modified epidermic cells. still cor roborates his story as to the virtues of that frigid clime as a hair producer. "My hair always was thick," he says, "so I cannot speak from personal ex perience, but the way dogs put on hair up there is a caution. They get as shaggy as Shetland ponies, and now I think of it, I never saw a bald-headed fellow anywhere around there. To tell the truth, they all look, after they have got to work, as though a razor and a pair of scissors were far more needed than a hair restorer, and I think a missionary barber wouN do good work among them." Signs of Good and Bad Weather. A hint or two on weather prophecy. When clouds are red in the west, the red having a purple tint, it is a sign of fne weather. The air when dry re fracts red or beat-making rays, and as dry air is not perfectly transparent these are agai reflected in the hor Non. An old proverb says: I rainbow in the morning is the shep herd's warning. A vainbow fit night Is the shepherd's delight. A rainbow occurs when the clouds containing or depositing the rain are opposite to the sun. In the evening the rainbow is in the east, and in the morning it is in the west. As the heavy rains In this climate are usually brought by the westerly winds, a rain bow in the west indicates that bad weather Is on the road; whereas the rainbow In the east proves the con trary. When the swallows fly high fine weather is to be exrected cr to con tinue. But when they fly low ap proaching rain is indicated. Swallows follow the flies and gnats, and flies and gnats usually delight in warm strata of air. As warm air is lighter and moister than cold air, the warm strata of air run higher, but when the warm and moist air is close to the ground, it is almost certain that, as the c'old air flows down into It, water will fril. As an indication of the approach of wet weather, nothing is more certain than a halo around the moon, which is produced by the precipitated water; and the larger the circle the nearer the clouds, and, consequently, the more ready to fall. A coppery or yellow sunset also foretells rain. Observations teaches that when the sea gulls assemble on land, stormy and rainy weather Is approaching. The lit tle petrel enjoys the heaviest gale, be cause living partly on the smaller sea insects, he is sure to find his food in the spray of heavy waves. The fish on which they prey in fine weather at sea leave the surface and go down deeper during the storm. The differ ent tribes of wading birds always mi grate when rain is about to take place. Upon the same principle, the vulture follows armies. Architect Vaux's Busy Ghost. Do spirits play pranks with living people?. Here is one incident that seems to indicate that they do. Not long ago Stuyvesant Fish asked Fran cis T. Bacon, the architect, to remodel a summer house for him. It is an old ome on the Hudson, called Glen Clyffe. It is situated on a plat of green hillside just opposite West Point. Mr. Fish and Mr. Bacon went over the drawings together In the lat ter's Chicago office. Glen Clyffe is a brick house, with stone trimmings, with a wide veranda running around it. It is in Italian renaissance and was built in 1S57 by an architect named Vaux, now dead. The front of the house is four stories, and the back three, owing to i:s location on a hill slope. Mr. Bacon promised to modernize the house, and put the plans away in his desk. Within an hour George Powers. industrial commissioner, came "I say, Bacon," he remarked, "can you take time to remodel on old house for a friend of mine-Ben Price, at Oxord. Miss.?" "Yes." said the architect. And when the plans of the Mississippi house were produced, Bacon rubbed his eyes. "Queer," he said, reaching for Presi dent Fish's plans. They were alike in every particular-Italian renaissance. brick, with stone trimmriecr, situated on a knoll, four stories front and three rear. One is !ocatedi on the Hud son, the other 2,000 miles away in a lidte Mississippi town. One was built in 1857; th eother in 1859. Both sets of drawings w ee signed "C. V'aux." The question is. What does the de eased V'aux want? Is it a ghost's .oke? "Is your lieutenant a in.mdsnme man. Ella?" "Oh. as haur.on-tc. h har! come to life ou' FREE BLOOD CURE AnOffer Provi F.t to 3 dOe S ure.', Blood and:4 i la I i u hes. Scrofua, that resis: oteru: v are quickly cure'd by H. B. 1U i .oi Blood Balm). Skihi Eruptions. Im pies, Red. Itcelr.ing' E""a, Scales, Blisters, Boils. Ca:L a'n '-s Blo Thes, Catarrnl, Rheumuati-m. ete cr all due to bad blood. and bienee ea-ily cured by B. B. B. Bloo i Po-is . &riucin'! Esting Sore- . Erpion V ole giands. S re '1omati etc. ui b- ii i. B Botanic h'd Bahn. in~ 1n0t ive months. ' I H. does r *en rain vegectable' or n1e.al. pison. Oc bottle wvi os i't' ian ce o sale by dro"'ists en-r%vhe . Lise bottles S1. 'ixfo fie ..> rite for free sampiile Irttl,. wh'ich i:1 hI ln prepad to) Tim's re':cie-. d:~ U r simptoms ead persoual fra md- e advice will be given. Adre Blood Balm C(. Atlanta Ga. A Chapter Worth Reading. The following from the Ver dict is the clearest statement of McKinley's financiering ever published. It is plain and worthy of careful perusal. If you desire to be well informed, preserve it. ThsPse are figures to file away. Keep them asa rod in pickle for the back of this black adminis tration. They are not to be lied into silence. 'Neither may they be fled from.' dodged or gone about. Thevare the dollar and cent record of the disastrous McKinley. The treasury'deficit in three years of McKinley'sis: 15978.040t0 S............. S. 048,0(:0 ...... QSS.897,000 The government revenues, by years during McKinley's admin istration. have been: 7.. ..-.847,721,000 ............402.321.000 S ......... ....... 517:216,000 T1.269.258 000 The McKinley administration has spent, during its term, these vast sums: 197 .. .$365,775,000 19..... ... 443,368,000 1.... . . .......605,093,000 T.ta. ... ..1),414.536,000 DAitit fr thre3ears.... 144.978,000 Of this revenue received in three years . $200,000,000 was frorn the sale of bonds; $76,000, io from payments by the Paci fic railroad and $112,000,000 by means of the war revenue bill. Put in table form it is: [rom bnds...... .......$200,000,000 From Pa cific railroads. . .. 66,000,000 From war revenue...... 112,000,000 Total..........$388,000,000 This extraordinary revenue is all counted in the receipts of 31.200,558,000. Had not the treasury received these extra bond, railroad and war reve nues, the deficit. instead of be ing -144,978,000, would be $532, 978,000, a sum greater than for any three years in the life of the nation, except during the civil war. In putiting upon the b ->oks of the treasury $200,000,000 in bonds, the McKinley adminis tration has increased the pub lic debt as follows: Debt in 1896.........81,769.840,323 Debt in 1899.......1,991,927,406 lncrease of public debt in three years... 532.978,000 Naturally the annual interest charge is increased. On the dates given it was as follows: June.30, 1896............$35.386,487 June'30, 1899. ....... .. 39,896,925 ncrease.. .. . .. $4.409 438 On the basis of population July 1 1896, the per capita inter est charge was 50 cents, and on July 1, 1899, it was 55 cents. The table shows the public debt of the United States for each man. woman and child in this country on the dates named: July 1, 1896................$25.00 July 1. 1899................2900 Lightning a Puzzle. The weather bureau has been doing a lot of speculating of late on the sub ject of lightning. O'it of every three persons struck by lightning two survive and recover. The amount of electricity in a thunderbolt is not very great the experts say but its voltage is extremely high, and that is what does ',he damage. It is rather remarkable that so little should be known as to the nature of the fluid which is in such common and everyday use. Nowadays it ,would be as easy to get along without water as without electricity, yet the iluid is still called the "mnysterious," Inasmuch as Its character and properties are to a great extent unknown. The latest and the best accepted theory on the subject is that, like light, it Is a form of motion. But what puzzles the experts most Is to discover the nature of the balls of electricity which are con stantly cutting up strange capers. Fireballs of this description, though not properly so termed, have been produced artificially in Germany, by charging masses of vapor with elec tricity. Soon after the famous experi ments of Franklin with a kite, investi gators in various parts of the world imitated his performance. One of these was Prof. Richman, a well known scientist of St. Petersburg. He succeeded in drawing the lightning In to his laboratory, but the result was unfortunate, Inasmuch as a fiery ball as big as a man's fist suddenly ap peared In the room, leaped from the Insulated conductor to his head and killed him. The occurrence was de scribed by an assistant, who stated that the ball was blue. In recent years there has arisen a serious doubt as to the value of light ning rods. This distrust has arisen probably from the fact that buildings provided with lightning rods have on many occasions been destroyed. After all, the lightning rod Is only a con ductor, and Is able to carry only a certain amount of the electric fluid. If an avalanche of electricity comes it may overflow, like a torrent that over lows the banks of the channel de signed for it, and the result Is disaster. One of the best evidences of the value of lightning rods up to date has been afforded by the Washington monu ment. It is capped by a small four sided pyramid of aluminum, which itetal. so cheap to-day, was very costly at the time of the building of the greatest obelisk that the world has ever known. This a. uminum tip is con nected with the ground by four copper rods which go down deep Into the earth. On April 5, 1885, five Immense bolts of electricity were seen to flash between the monument and a thunder cloud overhanging In the course of twenty minutes. In other words, the Imonument was struck fiercely five times, but it suffered no damage what ever. On June 15, of the same year, a more tremendous assault was made upon the monument from the heavens, and the result was a fracture of one of the topmost stones. The crack still re mains to show what nature can do In the way of an electric shock, but the slightness of the damage Is evidence of man's power to protect himself from such attacks. The obelisk is Ideally located for attracting electrical as saults from the skies, and yet, while many times hit, it has suffered only once, and that time to a trifling extent. In old times vessels used often to be struck by lightning and the loss by that cause was very great From 1790 to 1S40 no fewer than 280 ships of the British navy were .struck, 100 men be ing killed and 250 injured. Nowadays warships. as well as big merchant yes sels. have lightning rods running down their masts and into the sea so that the electricity is carried off. In these days nobody hears of the destruction of a vessel by lightning. Churches are the buildings most commonly struck. There is record of a certain church in (ariinthia which was hIt by lightning foumr or five times a year on an average the servIces being stopped in summer on this account. A rod was put on the Makes the food more de OVAL IAIM PO Her Small Ambition By LUCY SEMMES ORRICK. T IIE little sewing room of the big St. Catherine convent was startling in its white primnrtess and scant furnish ing. At least it thus impressed Hit ster Barnard, and did so afresh each of the few timics she was admitted to this inner sanctum. Ail at once. by con Ira.t. the aggressive superfluity of ot her interior furnishings burst, upon her with sudden ditstiuctness. Yet, there was notlung here upon whie' the eve could fasten p!easurably-a lum hering old sewing machine stood b- the deep arched window, and a line of long. black. shapeless garments-circulars, in the pariance of one-time fashion extended around three sides of the white room; added to this a chair or two, and the contents stood revealed. Sister Euphemia, always pedaling.la boriously at the noisy old machine on a facsimile of the wall decorations, gave needed life to the situation. The doorbell rang, and, as portress, the busy nun arose for the tenth time that morning and the third since Hes ter's arrival, to answer the summons. A soft smile shone out of the depths. of Sister Euphemia's dark blue eyes, and her sweet mouth relaxed in sym pathy as a temporary farewell to the favored lay friend she left alone. Hester looked after the sister with almost wonder, and certainly with rev erence. "Such interruptions would drive me crazy," thought the visitor, provoked lv. "How did she acquire such admir able placidity, or is it natural?" Hester's own restive young spirit pulled against bonds for herself, but some hidden note within her urged her to visit this peaceful spot, where the throes cf life's pains were forgctten or had never been known. After a day of mental conflict it was soothing unutter ably to come here, out of the gossip and envy and longing of the outside world -to come here, yes, but for only an hour-and to this nun, about whom there was always something great and capable. "I would like to see her roused and pushed to the full extent of her mental powers," thought the waiting visitor. She was glad when the door opened and the pure-faced woman with child eyes beamed down on her again. She felt better, more exalted by the nun's presence; though the influence was . only for a momnt. Sinking to commonplaces in the self conscious pride and habitual egotism of .human nature. Hester reverted to the cause of the sister's absence. "That bell must be very annoying," she remarked, feelingly. "Oh. no! I am accustomed to it as one of my duties." The veryv surprise in the answer :nadec it a slighit. though unmeant, rebuff; still the reply itself urged Hester to further speech. --The sisters either must ha'e no loves or desires, or strain them by lack of temuptation to infinitesimal thinness auu ndper fec t t ractability," she ventured with deliberat ion. it hurt. her, now it wais said. butt a curious interest in the an:-wd e aimiate'd her. Did they ever fee like other people? lThe faint giow mnounting Euphemia's pale face shamed Hester. "We are human," was the low-voiced reply. with a little reserve, but not a trace of resentment. What did the children of the world know of suppres son, of the stripping one's self of all the small delights that male living s weet ? The list ener felt the withdrawal and iniwardly granted its justice; in conse cuer'te she abated somewhat the criti eal mood which seemed heartlessly per Sstenlt to-day. "I know 'tou are human," said the praileged guest; "and I should think ' ot w "outld he very tired of those 'laaks. Won't you let me help you?" "Yes. I un tired sometimes." Eu .L ar:a rephedl. needlessly'. for the w tde :~:rinless of her eves 'wa-' answe;r rough. The last question passed un marked to its understood impossibil "Do von make many of these gar mient s? "For all the sisters. We are about, ?>." was the absent-minded answer. - With unc'onscious wistfulness the nun glanced otut the window at the grgeouts. brililia~nt tlower beds. It .rengthened her to look on this brave, perfect and beautiful development r men attained suca.h. Ill ser's dry remark: "You have Sand~ to~ do." was met with a glance tLat , e:: d to take the girl's measure. ad the way was cleared. "This." referring to her occupation. "has been nmy w ork ever since I came to te convent." proffered Sister Euphe n:ia. in the quiet, spiritualiz.ed voice hat c'ones inevitably to the mmtate, of the <-loister. 11 ester straig'htened up in ,urprised inter'est-her favorite was ve nturin. lbeyond generalities for the irst time in their long acquaintanee. Euphemnia already suffered at the xpo sit ion of her cwn life. but the girl's conclusions almost demanded refuta ion, and for all her perversity Hester semed one of their blood. "I loved all that." said Euphemia, ,acidintg toward the brilliant. splotehes f color outsidie. "but this is my forte," ndicating the garment in her lap. throug~h which the needle plied rap "Fifteen years." she murmured. In icr habit of sitting alone she had in v'oluntarily tuttered her thought. "Yotu haven't been in the convent that long, suirely :" exclaimed liester. "Oh. no!" flurried at the inadvertent speech. "sewing that long. I wvas a seamstress." she said, with somse re draint; then went on as if she might as well finish. 'There e'ouid be no, van. A Family Feud. As a result of a family feud, Jerome Henson and Thomas Jones, both of Walker county, Ga., engaged in a quar rel at Cedar Grove. Jones knocked Henson down with a weignt, crushing his skull. Hlenson managed to rise, got his pis pistol and followed Jones, overtaking him as he was entering his store. Henson emp~tied the conteats of his pistol into Jones' body, the latter falling dead. Hlenson is now at the niat of death. . FoWDER icious and wholesom ity in revealing her an. .M, father was dead and my mother helpless. I was the only one to keep our little house out on the common. and then I did plain sewing at the ind.w all d4y long for months. just as I an !omng now. 'Somre day in God' wn time I will be a nun' kept measure with thf rolling wheel. There was nn hu'rry. and on Sundays afier niass I u.,ed to go to the convent. It seemed like %L great castle rising high above the ide walk. and within the nuns. like noble ladies. came so kindly dowr. to me." Sister Euphemia turned t.,ward the window once more. How tired she was then, and she bad never grown rested; but what matter? It was in God's service, and what a recreation those few minutes of sweet atmosphere had been in her blank existence. She heard a droning of voices in the room beyond, and a memory came back of rare embroideries that ravished her eyes and moved to such passionate de sire as was never before known in her arid life. Oh! to evolve beneath her own fingers such miracles of the needle. She seemed to feel anew the great infnu ence working in her. flushing her veins and injecting a great vigor into her being, but suddenly control walled back the forbidden flow as canal gates close against the rush of hurrying wa ter, and she went on in her usual cool. quiet voice: "There I saw such exquisite finger work," she said. slowly and with a timid kind of hesitation; "it seemed a wonderful gift and privilege to paint such pictures with the needle, 4o be able to buy materials and work out one's own beautiful designs. The great value of those magnificent vestm'ents. representing months and months of pa tient labor, held me awe-stricken. All at once I realized I could do this-that my artistic and theoretical equipment were simply seconded by my skill in fine stitching. I was happy thinking to what great purpose I should live. The nuns would not find me wholly use less." Sister Euphemia seemed hurried on in spite of herself. "My machine ran on through many long seasons, she continued, "and all the while I dreamed of bright silks and- jewels and cloth of gold for the church. fair out line took form in imagination, to be laid aside in my mental storehouse for future use. The simple joy of handling those rainbow tints for God seemed to me the crowning glory of a religeuse life, and a little pride suggested that some day I might take my place among the nuns as the first embroiderer." "Did you ever gratify your bent?" asked Hester, a quick understanding and suspense disturbing her hear; and mind. "Well, after we received the white ei the novices were assigned certamn duties; and had no time for fancy work. Then a great pile of habits needed mending and making over. They were given to me. I did them all rapidly, thinking a little fancy sewing might be apportioned me, but the cloaks seemed to multiply." she said, with an amused lighting of the face. "Some way I got on faster than anyone else. Reverend Mother was pleased, but a little fright seized me lest this should go on indefinitely. Then hope urged, it. is only a test for the novice: think of the years to come when you will be mistress of all those dazzling skeins; but I have been here ten years now and no colored thread has ever strung my needle." She finished with a smile that seemed angelic in its utter disclaimer of any complaint. Would Hester still think them a limp and soulless cbm inunity? Was her illustration small and weak to the gay-lived birdling of the world? But Hester was speechless with her different emotions. Under such con ditions how could the nun thin her voice to utter colorlessness? and when her listener was thrilling with resent- - ment. Yes, they were terribly human, and what vast proportions a little de sire might assume within a contract ed circle. "Why didn't they allow you a con genial employment, at least occasion ally ?" asked the girl, indignantly. She could not stand such constraint for h'rself. Her impetuous nature would tear down and toss right and left ai! the obstructions in her way. "They did not know," was the sinm pe answer; "we are here to do our part, and this is mine'. 'The other was only my plan." The folding doors swung back be tween the sewing and adjacent rooms, and one of the order appeared in the. openng. "Come see our finished embroideries, sister," invited the cold-faced nun. -'You, too, Miss Hester." noting the v'is Hester glanced quickly at Sister Eu phemia. So she had known all the time her enchanted palace lay just beyond the folding doors. Already Sister Eu phemia's eyes were glowing over the solar spectrum of tropical ;u'nts and combinations that magnetized her ar isic sense; recollection of' the v'is itor was blotted out in the rarer feast. before her. All th~e weariness had left her fine sweet face. "Beautiful," trem bled blissfully on her lips. She did not think: "If I might do this!" Such emotion had long ago passed out as too exalted for her hopes; now it -as lost in the fair result of other hans. Her eyes picked out unerringly the choicest specimens. "You are a good judge of effect," said the embroidery mistress, observing her selection, but. the cloakmaker, with hands folded in her habit sleeves, stood raptly, dumbly. happily. "Good-by, sister; I must go," and Rester, who had not ceased to watch her, thus broke her reverie. "God is very good to let me see such beauty," murmured the nun, abstract edly. "Good-b.v"-recovering herself "Ah! you see, we have our compensa tions" she said, softly. as she opened the door for the unusually silent girl. N. . Times-Democrat. A SUGESToN.-A possible cause of increase of certain intestinal troubles is found by Dr. Sharpin in the use of ooking utensils of enatnelled iron. The enamel is liable to crack and peel off in large flakes, which are very sharp, and are shown to be difficult to pick out of certain vegetables, such as spinach or cabbage, so that many pieces are doubtless eaten. Care to discard such utensils as soon as defects apperr is advised. Housekeepers will do wel o act on this sugestion.