Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page. It is also available as plain text as well as XML.

% 1 K' ' :■ « ^ •.• ' t -y i- v-t , :.■_' .qpy >*.•;?• •, .,fi«. T *yv_ ;.tV{ ^ ^ r, '3 THE LEDGER: GAFFNEY, S. C., OCTOBER 29, 189C. SHORT STORIES. Full of Quakit Humor and Eugrerod Philosophy. I Dentil of » i'o ir Olit iMun—Tho IJrlde- (jrooni Didn't Know Where to Slceji — Amfy I,urns and tho Kiddle. I- V WvV, V .-W Poor old man Luther Blanton is dead and £one the common way of all hu- > man llesh. Jlc was way yonoer the richest man in aJl the regions around Kooky Creek, and yet still 1 do reckon he was the gone- byest most por.r- , est man that ever breathed the W ■ ^ v breath of mortal V or 1’hmted his foob teps on the broad bosom of God’s green earth. He had three or four bis plantations—which for the most port was all swamp lands anti jest naturally turned to corn and cot ton once a year—and made money over and under, gwine and a eomin. He had cotton pihd up In his front yard and down there under the ginhouee which hod been there for years and years. And ns to the cash lie had put away in his old sock, and in the big family chist, and at the banks in town —nobody could tell the full extent thereof. And 1 doubt right serious if old man Luther could tell for certain how much lie had raked and scraped together of this world’s goods. Put all at the same time he was for- everandeternally hard run and so blast ed poor till, to bear him tell it, hedidn’t know how he would manage to keep out of the poorhonse. lie was too poor to wear anything but the plainest clothes and but. precious few of them. He v.as too poor to spare any money for the church or the cause, and as to the widdows and the orphants, Iraley don’t reckon they had ever heard tell of a man by tho name of Luther. lie was too poor to cat. enough when he was hungry, and too poor to sleep sound when he was tired and broke down. What do you reckon made the old man so felonious jH>or with all of that land and cotton and mules and money? 1 put that question to Blev Scroggins onest. upon a time, uind Plev he an swered ft in his own plain, blunt way: “I can tell you what makes old man Luther suffer oo from the aches and pains of j ou rty,” says Blev. “He would walk aerost hell on a rotten rail for two bits.’’ SIio 'Iliousbt He Must Do Drunk. Uncle Josiah Jernigan is one of the men which, owln to the seandlous hot -•^^wcather and sorry crops and politics, ■Pgot ^o melancholic a,ml low down along 1 in durin of the. summer. So Uncle Jo nah he goes around to see old Dr. Lealherwocsl, and told him a great long rigamarnle about his broke down and long-sufferin condi tion. AfU r feelin and thumpin around consult rable, tryiu to lind somethin the matt; r with the sick man, the old doctor had to give it up. “There aint a blame thing the matter with you, Josiah, cxccptin a fearful bad ease of the mully-grubs, with a little mi.xtiy of pure meanness,’* says he. “Now you go on back home and eat and sleep and be virtuous and happy. Sing a song, or two along the road as you go, and whistle a few tunes—somethin quick and ih vilish if you can, Josiah. And then, when you git home, look as jolly and cheerful like as you can. Kiss the childii n all around and then pitch in and ling and kiss your wife two or three times, like you used to some thirty nr forty years ago. Play young and well—that’s the idea, Josiah. I know you f< cl worse than the devil, but make out like you find jest simply bully, and the good feelin will grow on you as natural as dirt. You may notbe«o very young and well, but you aint loo old to play the game that way for a few days anyhow, and that will be bet ter than medicine and doctors for you." Well, uncle he P>ok the old doctor’s advice and went, home that evenin in a good humor w it h everybody and every thing in the whole discovered world. He sung soul's and whistled tunes along the road ns he went—anything from "Aimi/.in Grace" to “Moliie, Put the Kettle On.” And then when he rid up at home he dismounted and got down as quick and nimble he ever did in his younger and gallin days, w hen he w ent n-courtin % Matilda Ann Dudley some forty years ago. lie kiss <1 the children one and all, and jest naturally loaded cm down with sweet, crackers and stick candy. Then he paid his double-breasted re gard:; to bis good wife, Aunt Matilda Ann, a"d bugged her and kissed her, and kb d and huggttl her over and over three or four times. Aunt Matilda Ann she caught a long breath and sniffed the air and looked mighty bad puzzled and pestered and surprised. “I can’t smell no whisky, Josiah,’’ says she, “and it aint far me to bring a seandalatimi on the family, but you do act to me powerful like you mought be dritikm, if not drunk." But un.vbnw, the old doctor’s head was ns level ns It w as long. And Undo Josiah Jcrnigan has now about recov ered from his bad low-dow n spell. L lows out there like you have got here. They don’t have no up grades nor clown grades, but everything on a smooth dead level. And when they start a train out on a tripall the engineer lias got to do Is to pull the durn thing wide open and let her go. “One Sunday mornin out there in the Pan Handle I went down the road about 50 miles to the next station to sec a young lad}', which I was trcinendious bad gone on about that time. 1 spent the day with her and that evenin .she went to the station to see me on and off. I had got on the cars, you under stand, Kufe, and jest as the bell rung and the train started I stuck my head out of the window to kiss the girl good- by. And what do you reckon, Kufe? Burned if I didn’t kiss a cow in the mouth two miles up the road. Out there in the Pan Handle, Kufe—that Is where they do run railroad trains.” ARP ON THE ORPHANS. He Didn’t Know V. here to Sleep. Talkin a bo m. Billy Trammel — that puts me in mind of another wanderer returned back home. Squire Kiley Norton got back one day last week from his long summer trip to some big sul phur spring somewhercs over there in the mountains of Georgy and Tennes see. When the squire left home he was a poor lonesome widdower and weariu of the weeds to beat six bits. But it would seem like he met up with a gay and gorgeous widder over there at the big spring, and both of them bein more than willin, it didn’t take very long for them to work out the little sum w here in you add up two together and only git one for the answer. To be short and plain about it, the squire and the widder they pitched in, they did, and went and got married. And then the most strangest part of the business comes in. Dadblame it, they didn’t stay married. The very next day the squire put in his papers for a general divorcement and soon got the knot untied on the grounds of domes tic incompatibility and false pretenses, or words to that extent. "I reckon 1 mought as well own up to it, Kufe,” says the squire, “that wid der was one too many for me. For why? Well, she was false, Kiifo—the most falsest woman I have ever saw. I knowed s,hc had false teeth, but that wan’t nothin. When I retired to the bridal departments that night, I reckon maybe the widder had went to bed. I (ouldn’t say for certain about that. But there was a full set of false teeth, a thunderin big role of false hair, a cork leg and one glass eye layin there on the table. I reckon maybe I acted like :i dnrn fool. I know I felt like one. I didn’t know for certain where to sleep —whether to go to lied or git on the table. Consequentially I didn’t go to sleep anywheres that night, and the next day I put in my papers for divorce ment. All the facts and the evidence was on my side, and I soon put the widder away on the general charge of false pretenses.” Where They Do Ran Tmlnur- Billy Trammel, one of the Murder Creek set of Trommel boys, has jest lieni lab ly, returned from a long <rip to the I’an-llnndle country of Texas. "You bear people talk about railroads and ralli'iul trains, Kufe, but they never v, III know a blame thing about it till they t.ik • a trip to the Ban Handle," iy« Hilly to me the other day. “There . here they do run railroad trains ta dead helluiious certainty. You sea, Kufe, they don’t, bar® no ereeka and rivers to cross, n/ul no hills and hol- t ^ Jt Sr ,> 'Zg"' ■■ * ' . j A Simple Rxplaint:ton. The politicians have been oratin and tpeeehifyin so frequent and pronii.s- cus among the boys here lately till blamed if the ground ain’t wore smooth and slick for miles around. Gold or fiber, which? is still the main est ques tion. The general confusioument in re gards to gold and silver puts me in mind of the riddle which Andy Lucas give Blev Scroggins onest upon a time. All three of us was nothin more than chunks of boys then, and goin to school together over at the cross roods Andy and Blev they had got into .1 mighty way of savin riddles to one another. It was nip and tuck as to which could turn the other dow n with a new riddle. Comin along home from school one evenin Andy hit Blev with n new one, and it was n stunner. “There is c lady over to our house,” says Andy, “which she is my mother’s sister, but she. ain’t my aunt. How is that, Blev?” Well, Blev he couldn’t cut through and had to give it up. though Andy give him till next mornin to work the sum if he could. So Blev he went home and told his father, old man Jerry Scroggins, aliout it and called for help. Naturally, of course, the old man couldrft sec through the riddla and it pestered him powerful. He scratched his head ajid racked and ransacked his brain till bed time, but he couldn’t git the an swer. And then when he went to bed he couldn’t go to sleep forthinkin about Andy Luen-s and the riddle. He rolled and he tumbled till way along towards midnight without a lick of sleep and he couldn’t stand it no longer. He riz up and went out and saddled his horse and rid over to old man H iram Lucases —which Andy at that time was a half orphant and him and his mother was livln there with his grandfather—and hollered him up ami called him out to tho front gate. Old man Hiram h< conic outsnortin and cussin al*out his neighbors caliin him at such a "hcllntious” late hour, and consequentially Jerry Scroggins went on to the mnincst question. "That boy Andy give my boy Blev a riddle Ibis evenin which he can’t work It and f can’t work it,” rays ho. “And what is more I couldn't sleep forthinkin about it and so I have come over here to git the facts. Andy told Blev that there was a lady here which was his own mother’s sister, but she wan’t his aunt. Now I want to know bow to ex plain that?" “Why, Jerry, that’s as clear as glass »nd easy as fallin off a w et !og,’’sjivsold nxin Hiram. "Any simlin-heuded idiot ought to see through that." " I ell me how It is then," says Jerry, ’Vo f can go on bark home and rest in peace and go to sleep." "Well, Jerry," says old man Hiram, “you see t hat boy Andy jest simply told your boy Blev adndbhimo He." Thus after hcnrln various and sundry remarks on both sides of the mop^y question I am bound to think thatemm® Ane has told a little w hite one about H. RUFtT*. mvnvna Barto jy’s Sago Visita tlio Docatur Asylum for Fathorloss Onos. Good People Should Give Money Needed to Carry on tho Good Work Pounder Jt-giio Kurins Start ed Yearn Afjo. Why don’t some rich man give an endowment to the orphans’ home at Decatur—why don’t somebody leave it a good lot of money in his will, and then die soon after? And there is the orphanage at Clinton, S. C., that right now is on a strain to provide food and clothing for the winter. 1 am satisfied that if our good people could visit these 1 null tut ions and see the children ami realize their condition, they would help them. It- is all right, of course, for the millionaire to give millions to the universities and colleges, and so pro vide cheap education for the poor; but there is a class of helpless, friendless children scattered over the land who will never get to college, and who would be grateful for bread and clothes and shelter. The Scripturco make no mention of schools or colleges, but the fatherless are mentioned over and over again, and woe and curses are threat ened those who neglect or oppress them. 1 have long believed that good peo ple would give more to charity if they were face to face with those who suffer. It is not a pleasant business to hunt up the poor and look upon want and rags and pule faces, but it ought to be done sometimes, even by the rich and the busy people. The good St. James said that true religion was to visit the widow and the fatherless—yes, to visit them. It will not do to sit in the par lor or the couirtingroom and wait till somebody calls for charity. Little Or phans can’t come; they don’t know the way. Their father is dead or their mother, or both, or perhaps one or the other is in the asylum or down with a chronic sickness. It is u pitiful story, and every case is different, but all piti ful. They are all children of misery bapt ized In tears. I have been ruminat ing about this, and must write about it, though to most people it is an un welcome subject* A few days ago I rode out to the orphans’ home near .De catur just to see how the. children were getting on. My good friend, Kobert Hemphill, went with me. He is the business man of that busy paper, the Constitution, but next to hi» family his heart’s affections arc absorbed in the orphans’ home. He is the presidt nt of the board, and ought to be. He goes there every few days, and the children smile when he comes. On the way lie never talked politics—not a word—it was all orphans and the home. The farm wagon met us at Decatur and took us out a mile in the country. I didn’t mind the rough riding, for it did me good to have my cor porosity tumbled upn little; but I did mind get ting in and out. of that high-swung wagon that had no step/s. 1 tried to show my activity, but 1 couldn’t, and almost fell down lioforo I got up. For aged orphans like me they ought to have a comfortable carryall, but Mr. Hemphill says they haven’t got the money to buy it* Where is the carriage man, that he don’t send one right away? Mr. Hruinby, of Marietta, sent six dozen good strong chairs for the boys’ build ing, that has just been completed. Now, wltere is the big-hearted carriage man? It is a beautiful building, and will be dedicated soon; and I’ve a notion of taking my wife down with me if the carryall is there; she can’t ride in a road wagon any more. But that build ing and the girls’ building need water — plenty of water. There is u. little lake of clear spring water not far away, and Mr. Hemphill says there is fall enough for a water rum, but it. will cost about $500 to llx everything and put water in the upper stories—but the inon’^y is all out. It has taken nil to complete the new building. “Where are you going to get the $500?" I asked. “I have no idea,” he said, and he looked distressed; “but I reckon It will come. Three men have given us $.'>00 each within the lust 12 months, and I reckon there is one more somewhere. I know that there are several if they knew how badly we needed it." Then he told me about what George Muse, Mr. Er. Lawshe and Mr. 0. V. Gress and others had don^ for the home. For about three hours I went about the premises and mingled with ♦he orphans. Borne of the boys were dig ging ami wheeling dirt to stop a leak in the dam nt the lake. Two had to go after the cows. Half a dozen came trot ting down to the barn with their milk buckets. The milch eows marched to their stalls and the stanchions closed upon them, while the boys sat upon their stools and talked merrily ne they drew down the milk from their udders. The eldest of these milkers was not more than twelve and the youngest about eight. Near the house, in the back yard, fchcrc were two boys swing ing nt the ends of a large rocking churn, and in 20 minutes they had gathered several pounds of nice yellow butter. I saw the girls washing and ironing in the laundry, and others prc]>aring the evening meal, of which I was invited to partake. There were no idle hands, save, perhaps, the two youngest, one of whom was an infant in arms and only three years old. All had some duty to perform, and wore doing it willingly, and all were comfortably clothed. But there were two master spirits about the place-—Mr. Taylor and his wife had plenty to do. The out doors and fannwork and the cattle and get ting wood and keeping the boys em ployed in their working hours took nil his time. But Mrs. Taylor has the greatest responsibility and she meets It. She looks after the needs of all, both boys and girls their food and clothes ami health ami conduct* She has one of those large, benevolent faces that a child could not help loving. Her tender rare of the little ones and their Affection for her was plainly visible. The little boy of 10 months was in her arms as she walked around with us and called up the turkeys and chickens. “I don’t, believe I can ever give upthisone,” she said. "These orphans are coming and going nil the time. As fast as they get. old enough the Lord seems to find [daces for them.and itahvaysgrievesme to see them go, but I am going to keep this one and adopt it ns my own. We have no children, and this one will lie a comfort to me when I get old and have to leave the home.” He was a pretty boy—the youngest of four that came there from one family. Their mother was dead, and the father was the panic r.s dead; but they are better off now, and all of them seemed contented and happy. Everyone there has a sad his tory. but they do not realize it now. Several hundred have come and gone within 25 years, and nearly all of them have done well. Many revisit the spot in after years; many write affectionate, grateful letters, and some send tokens of their kind remembrance. One young man who has prospered and receives good wages sends $5 monthly out of his (arnings to help maintain some other orphan. That is aliout what it takes— $250 to r.’lOO a month for the 00 who are there. At twilight there was a curfew bell and the children gathered in the parlor and we had music. The girls and boys rang some sweet songs to the lead of tho piano, a gift from Mr.M. K.Berry, and then the supper boll rang. The elder persons and the visitors were seat'd at one table and the children at three others, and at « signal from Mrs. Taylor there was silence, and there was reverence, too, for she made one of the sweetest and most motherly prayers I ever hga rd. It was brief, but it was beautiful. Then onmo the feast—not a display of good things, but good bread, good blitter, good coffee, and at our table a good fat, well-roasted turkey, that the girls had cooked fftr Mr. Hemp hill, and he let mo have some—yes, 1 got plenty. That was the second turkey, Mrs. Taylor said, and she had many more that she had raised—about one apiece for each child. Good gracious! Feeding orphans on turkey! Well, why not, once or twice in awhile? 1 never saw an orphan who didn’t like turkey. There arc lots of good things about there. While down in the field I found some rijie mnypops, and l have not passed liking them yet, and black haws and red haws were in sight, and these boys knew every tree and where the chestnuts and chinquapins grew. But the home needs money, and its wants must be kept, lieforc the public. It is a bless oil charity to give to it, a charity tlmt is full of promises in the Scriptures. It should lie enlarged and more orphans sent there, for I believe that it is the best training school in the state, and its inmates will all make good citizens. Old Father Jesse Boring founded it, and if there is a Heaven he is in it* He was a pioneer in good works. That’s the kind of paternalism I believe In—being a father to the fatherless. My good mother lost her parents when she was a little child. The pestilence swept them into one grave and she was sent to an orphan age in Savannah. They were very good to her there, and she used to tell i;s the rad story, and we would stand by her side and listen, and our hearts get full and our eyes overflow. But ore day a lady came and chose her from among the children and tool: her away. It is the same way nt this orphanage now. They come and they go. and are scattered from Georgia to Tcxnr.. Good people, this is the noblest and sweetest kind of charity. Let us help it.—Bill Arp, in Atlanta Constitution. THE NEED OF SLEEP. COMPARISONS ARE Public Men cf To-Day Placed Bo b’.de Ihoeo Famous In History. !• Till* n Day of Small Men? —The I'olltlelan Now Dead* the I’ruct-exlon — Gold I*ut Above God. It In Ncocimary to rrceervo Mental VlBor. By far the most important compen sation for all effects of fatigue is sleep. Everybody, even the man mentally most Inert, develops when awake n mass of mental effort which he cannot afford continuously without suffering. We need, therefore, regularly recurring pe riods in which the consumption of men tal force shall be slower than the con tinuous replacement. The lower the degree to which the activity of the brain sinks, then, the more rapid and more complete the recovery. The mental vigor of most men is usu ally maintained at a certain height for the longest time in the forenoon. The evidences of fatigue come on Inter at this time of day than in the evening, when the store of force in our brain has been already considerably drawn upon by the whole day’s work. If no recovery by sleep is enjoyed, or it is im perfect, the consequences will invari ably make themselves evident the next day in a depression of mental vigor as well as in a rise in the [leisonal sus ceptibility to fatigue. The rapidity with which one of the persons I experi mented ii|>on rould perform his tasks in addition sank about a third after a night journey by railway with insuf ficient sleep. Another experimenter could detect the effects of keeping him self awake all night in a gradual de crease of vigor lasting through four days. This observation was nil the more surprising, because the subject wn^ not conscious of the long duration of the disturbance, and was first made, aware of It Incidentally by the r»f.uit* of continued measurements on the causes of the manifestations of fatigue. —Dr. I 'mil Krnepelln, in Appletons’ Popular Science Monthly. A Trostrsl tlo'cc. Some nv'ilicnl students travelling on the train Is 1 tween Seville end Cordova, Spain, stuck a skull on the head of a cane and held it up to the window of the next compartment, accompanying tho performance with groans. A woman opened the door and tried to jump out when the train was ntop|X*d, and it wan found that one old lady had died of fright, another had fainted, and an old man had lest his reason.—ChlcngoTntcr Ocean. Is this a day of small men? is a ques tion frequently asked, and sometimes the statement is put in the declarative. Jt is said that distance lends enchant ment to the view. George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, Calhoun, Clay, Web ster. etc., may look larger to ns and greater to us than they did to the eyes of men who were co-temporary with them. The great writers, the great poets, the great philosophers seem to have passed away. This is an age of financiers and mechanics, an age of materialism. There were never great er linancicrs in the history of the world than we have at the present time; there were never greater discoverers and aut hors in mechanics than we have with us this day. Unto whatever an age lends its ener gies and expends its genius iqion that age shows itself in the energies and forces thus displayed. Epicureanism— eat, drink and be merry—was the ideal of life in one age. War, martial array, heroism, generalship, was the fad in more than one age. Peter the Great, Napoleon Bonaparte and others were the climaxes in their ages. Another age produced its athletes. 1 reckon Samson would have headed that pro cession. Another age produced its ora tors, Cicero, Demosthenes, Pitt, Fox, Erskine, Clay, Calhoun. Webster. Pren tiss. Marshall. Beecher. Other ages have produced their authors, the men w ho did their work with their pen. When we look nlKiut us to-day hu manity seems mixed, addled and large ly aimless, except to keep up with the procession. This is an age of politi cians. To-day the jioliticians seem to head the procession. Statesmanship has been at a premium, but politicians hold sway now. Gladstone is in his dotage; Bismarck played out; Disraeli is dead and buried. Who is the states man of Europe to-day? They have none in the east. Li Hung Chang, the brightest man in all China, talked rind acted like a ten-months-old boy 5 n America. If he made while over here a philosophical statement or observa tion 1 have not heard of It* lie was in quisitive. He asked our women how old they were and how many childr*'n they had. and why they did not have more children, or words to that effect; and if he had not boon worth $<’>00,000,- 000 and America had not been looking for some of it to fall this way, he would have been treated like any other pig tail in America. Tills is a cloy of piliti- cinns, not of statesmen. The greatest living statesman to-day in the United States is the most despised and most discounted man in America. He has once been t he most popular. Ten years ago he was ths idol of America. Four years ago lie was the most popular man in America. He now holds the same views, advocates the same principles and maintains the same integrity and heroism that be always has as presi dent, and yet he has lost with his own party until the reaction is so great that he himself will not affiliate with or ap prove the principles or candidates of Ids own party. It looks funny to see the democratic candidate touring this country speak ing to tens of thousands everywhere, and the republican candidate remain ing at home and the fools gathering from everywhere making their pil grimage to Canton, O. Of course, some smart men go to Canton. 1 approve of and indorse the sound money princi- jiles of McKinley, and yet if 1 were to join a crowd going from Georgia to Canton my wife would telegraph for my arrest on the way and detention un til she could get her husband and bring him home, and it would be a long time before 1 could convince my wife that 1 had sense enough to go off by my self, much less with the crowd. McKinley and Bryan are good men, but I lie strength of character, the cour age, Hie heroism, the brains of these two men do not make them the great est men in American history. David B. Hill, perhaps the most astute politician in the United States, said: “I am a democrat." 1 see the newspapers now- are calling him a “dumocrat.” Tom Kccd, perhaps the strongest man in the republican party, was passed by and his own party took a smaller man because they thought he would run better. We are not hunting our biggest and brain- est men to-day. We are bunting our most popular men. In other words, each party wants a candidate that will get there, and they take his measure after they get him elected. If there is a towering man to-day the governor of any state in this union, 1 do not recall him at this moment. The supreme court of the United States does not rank as it once did. When we measure the supreme court of the United States of to-day by the supreme court of the United States of 50 years ago, the com parison seems odious. The supreme courts of our several states do not measure up as they once did. Great lawyers arc not ns plentiful now, it seems. This is an age not only of push ami pull for political office, but it is a push and pull for wealth and a push and drive for health. Hence We have the most colossal fortunes in the world's history; hence we have more broken down nervous systems that any age ever produced; and one profession perhaps holds its own with tho march of any age, ami that is the profession of medicine. Wc hqv« ns great or great er doctors to-day than the world ever had. The [tract'oe of medicine and the science of surgery have almost reached their acme in the last few decades. The [>nst has never excelled Kouch. America may boast of the llnest sur geons In the world. 1 have been told that one of the finest surgeons in Eu rope said to a patient who came to him ODIOUS. 1 a critical operation: “Why do come ; 10 me when Dr. Kelley, of Baltimore, is a better surgeon than I am?" Wc have a dearth in my profession. Great preachers are not as thick to-day a a the stars of the heavens are at night. Georgia has not a Bishop Fierce. New York lias not a Beecher; Boeiton ha* not a Phillips Brooks; England has not a Whitfield; Scotland has not a John Knox. We have many more in quantity, but we kick in quality. In my [>eri(;- rinations over this country I find an almost constant inquiry by some of the leading churches: “Where can we get n man. towering and strong, for our pulpit ?” Preachers may be as big to-day as they were 50 or 100 years ago, but they don’t seem so large. If the |ieer of St. Paul, of Wesley, of Whitfield er Charles G. Finney lives to-day, I have not met him. I see some very small preachers filling very large pul pits. It seems to Ik* a very small dough- rut in n icry large box. Usually where this is the ease, the church ij not much fuller than the pulpit. A man must, fill the pulpit or the peoplo won’t till the church. If we had mote preachers of [lower we would certainly have more people in the church every Sunday morning ami night. But wo develop in the lines we pursue. Greed for gold has develojied us into the shrewdest traders, the most monu mental manipulators the world ever saw. And this push for the dollar has created a demand for skill in the trca-T- ment of the nerves, skill in the use of the knife, skill in the use of pills and [owders, and to make over again tho man who has unmade himself in his race for success. We have great law- rers when men love their profession better than they love the income, de rived from their profession. We have great statesmen when men love their country better than they love political otlicc. We. have great preachers when men love God and the kingdom of Christ above placo and position. We have great orators when head and heart arc both full of thought and emotion sub lime. We have great, riches when we put gold above God, and great men u ben wc put manhood above Mammon. The correlated and aggregated ener gies of a man will make, him [neat in whichever direction he may go—up ward or downward. When this world shall see that goodness is groatneos end greatness is goodness, and he that would be greatest of all must first be the servant of all; that it is more Messed to give than to receive; that wo are made perfect through suffering; that there is no crown where there Is no cross; that the richest man in the world is the man who has done most for his fellow-man, rich in good works; and that the poorest man in the world is the man who was a millionaire on earth, but who has not money enough in hell to buy a drop of water; but the richest man in eternity is the man w ho sacrifices most here and gains more in the world of eternal light. SAM P. JONES. TROUBLE IN HEAVEN. If Kpliram Signers Got There Do fore Do Did. Not very long ago I was traveling through the south with a clergyman friend, and one day the latter w as called to the liedside of a dying colored man. After the clergyman had administered a prayer and words of comfort he was about to take his departure, when the sick man asked him to remain a few minutes longer, ns he had a very im portant matter to talk about. The clergyman seated himself on the edge of the bed and looked solemnly at the patient* “Pahson,” began the latter, in a feeble but earnest voice, "is I got to die?” "Yes, my friend,” kindly answered the clergyman; “I’m afraid you are not long for this world.” The sick man hesitated a few mo ments and then continued: “Pahson, does you know Ephrum Sig- gers, dat low-down onery euss?” “Yes, I know Ephrum,” answered the clergyman, surprised. “Is Ephrum sicker dan I is, pahson ?’ r “Ephrum is a very sick man, and his life is ebbing ns fast as yours.” “Pahson,” answered the colored man, excitedly, “I want to die befo’ dat nig- gah dies.” The edergyman was now thoroughly astonished, and, talcing the colored man’s hand in his own, he said: "You must not talk so, my friend. Why do you wish to die before Eph rum?" “Pahson,” replied the patient, ear nestly, “dat Ephrum Siggers is a bad niggah, a mighty bad niggab, an’ I want to git to Heaven first an’ tell do Lan d to look out for him when he comes up dar." A broad smile came across the cler gyman’s face ns he replied: "My dear brother, the Lord knows all about Ephrui. ” "Huh," sa. . T.»c sick man, “de Lawd don’t know dat niggah like I know him, an’ when I git to Heaven I kin give do Lawd some poiutahs about dat niggah dat’ll suhprise Him.” "Come, my friend," the clergyman re sponded, solemnly, "this is idle talk.” "No, it ain’t, pahson. I can’t help think in’ how de Lawd is goin’ to git fooled wif Ephrum Siggers. If he gits dar dey’s goin’ to be trouble in Heaven, ’cause dat niggah won’t be in Heaven no four minutes liefo’ he’ll Ik> serappln* wif de angels.”—N. Y. World. A Narrow Escape. "I never loved before—” he began. "Excuse me," she interrupted, coldly, “I am not looking for a Ixiy to raise. Call around when you’ve had more ex perience.” “You mlsunderutood me!" he de clared, reproachfully. “I said I never loved but four. It’s true there were five or six others that I doted on might ily. but I can’t say I ever really loved but four." "My darling," Rho cried, falling Into his arms, "you are a man after my own heart!" (He waa, and he fotlt)—H^nsasCIty World. ^ £ Mr