Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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I DOWN ON ROCKY. Rufus Sandora Among tho Living and tho Dead. ptorson I.c-fer ai.d Abner Hnntor Hare •• Gather* fI t'p .he’.rX'cet, As It Were” —Only Ono ••Wiinmln Flnt”— Good Time to (Jolt. Here lately in the past few days two of the most widest known men In all this scope of country have gathered u p their feet, as it were, like Ja cob of old, and fell In line with the great and silent majority —old Paraon David Lester and Abner Hunter. Every body will miss Parson Lester from his familiar place amongst the scenes and things of this fieetin old world. lie was a plain, open- and-shet, llint-nnd-stecl good man—no side shows or lly wheels or fancy trim- nins to speak of, but true as steel and honest ns the sunshine itself. lie Met ‘•Hell-Koarln Hill." But whilst old Parson lister was kind and gentle and patient with ail mankind—never lookin for a mens and never givin any grounds foronc'— if n man was out lookin for a fight, but not partiolar anxious to find one, I would advise him to take the other fork of the rood before he got to the Lester place. They tell me tlitit oncst upon a time in his .young and wayward days the parson was bad medicine and tre- inendius big doses—hot stuff and a whole passlc of It. And in the primin of his life even in his oid age—if trouble coiao in spite of all he could do and say to rtave it off—if some flghtfn had to he done in a ease of pushency and he was the onlyest man on the ground- rlw old parson want gone no- wheres. IV was right there every clat ter—stnr.din six f» -t in his socks—full weight and hone d measure—10 ounces to the i:< in, 1 and three feet to the yard. Before now everybody in the regions around Itoeky Creek have heard tell of the time v. hen oid Parson Lester and “Hell Boarin Bill,” from Oeorgy.metup together at the Panther creek bridge on the old adage road. Hell Boarin had took up a fool notion in tho maintime that he wr , r, destinated to be a great fighter, and to lu-ar him tell it he had sde.rtt (1 a little private graveyard of his own bnek there in Georgy, where ho come from. Anyhow, with his heavy drinkin and hard c asein, ho was a holy terror to the surroundin country. So when he met m> with the old parson that mon in he put on all the general npyoarnvnf f n man out huntin for a fight. Don't und rstand me to sey that Hell Bonrin n wanted to git Into a fight with an.vVidy, hut yet he was lookin for . furious engagement of that sort. He had to do that so ns to maintain the name and tamo which in* Built up in the land. I reckon r !»• he v.as sorter like Jule Nabors, you : >-e<>lleet, that time when he walked t.'i n lies on a hot summer day lookin for work, lint prayin the good Tyfird eve; . lej) not to let him find It. 1 To or Jo Die." horse, old Saddlebags, a f.-w Mops for mo,” rays u with a loud voice as him ir n Belh rid up and met “Light and danec Hell Beni and the j together i-igl tin re at the bridge. “Beckon \ . n u t lie mistaken in the man,” a 1 , tn j rjion. “I am a preach er, and 1 can’t dance.” “This i illcll Boarin Bill from Georgy, and you ’ ill onsequentlally have to dance,” says ihe holy terror. “It don't luako a eontinentnl bit of difference v.hr» you arc or where you conic* from,*’ rays the. parson in his slow, steady w ay of tnlkin. “My name is T.est' r David lye'der—a minister of the (!o: j I, a servant nl the livin’ God —free, whit**, and full grown. I tell you I can’t cfanoc.” With that Hell Bonrhi he. whipped out his six : luKrt r; which he always toted weapons like any other coward— covered the oid par on an<l tol<l him to take his choice- to dance or to die. “Spusin you git dow n and show me hor\v till 1 can catch the lick," says the parson as he rolled out of his saddle and tied his 'mrse dost by. It n < i. V ' i t ! < kl-d Hell Boarin powerful. So he got down, he did, and sceln how bumble lilce and gentle the parson wi -, he laid his weapons down whilat he w. nt to Id tel) his horse. Whereas, when he woke up, the other man hud the shooters. “Now, by the grace of God—ns a ’meek and humble follower of theCross," says the old parson, "I call upon you, Hell Boarin Bill, of Georgy, to take- one of the*!' v eapoiiH ami save your life." But rah-v, Hell Boarin want such a wundul ue knd man us you mought thinlc, and when ‘.he. ]>arson got him. down on the d< :e| levwl he wouldn’t come across. “Then, by the twelve epist4(«,” miys tlw old parson, “!, David Ixwter, n chOM*ti sej', nt in the Mnst(»r’M v!n«*- vard, do eonimand yon, Hell Bonrin Bill from Georgy, to walk up them on the Bridge and do your own dnnein—to dance or t‘» jlie.“ There vr. somethin in the parnon’s gray eyes and steady hand and his mild and gentle voice which told Hell Boorin more plainer than the. strongest I’nitcd Slates Inngiiiigfe that It was alsmt the i glit tlm of year to do ns ho wax told. It Wi.u dance or die, and In lesa time than it tuke i me to tell it Hell Boarin was on the bridge daneln to Itesi six hits, uhiLt tin- | arson Mood by with jfe weiip< i. on ui d belt him down to I ■ illm. Id- called out the \urious Ll mu |>s till he had put Hell Ib/Writi through all the motions aiul run pie him cut all Urn Hggers from Uit pigeon win;; to the lm//.urd loj»«. THE LEDGER: GAFFNEY, S. C., NOVEMBER 19, 1896. In tho maintlrae old man Tommy Pickens and two of his boys had driv up to the bridge on one side, whilst Bunk Weatherford and Lige Buimels rid up on the other side, and all stopped to see the show outs "Has the gentleman from Georgy been to breakfast thus morn in ?” says the parson. Hell Bcxirin owned up to it that he was behind on kitchen physic. ‘‘Well, then-,” the parson went on, “know all men by these presents that I, David Lester—called and sent forth and predestinated from the foundations to preach the Gospel to a lost and mint world—do now command Hell Boarin Bill from Georgy to humble himself in the presence of mortal man and eat dirt.” Naturally of course Hell Boarin didn’t want any dirt for breakfast. But it was dirt or die, so he took the dirt. “And now finally at Inst,” says the parson, “as a plain American citizen. I would remind Hell Boarin Bill of Georgy that the day and hour have come for him to move his wash in out of this peaceful and pleasant country henccforwards and forever.” Ami then Hell Boarin he moved. As to whether he returned back to Georgy or went on out west to build fresh graves in a new country, the witness could not say for certain. But old Parson Lester—always good and kind and gentle, but tnkin no drag- gin from any mortal man—lived his life out right around in the settlement whore he was Ixirn and bred and brung up. Now his works do follow him— particlar that famous dancin lesson which he taught unto Hell Bonrin Bill from Georgy down there at Murder Creek bridge—and everybody will miss him from his familiar walks amongst the scenes and things of this green and fieetin world. ARP ON ELECTIONS. FASHION AND FANCY. WANT AND LUXURY. Sorry Bryan Was Defeated and Now Demands Prosperity. He Is Tired of Elections—Says They Upset the People and Hrlng on Mental Worry—Wants Term* Made Longer. Only One “Wlnnln Pint.” For somethin better than a week— since the golden Indian summer day when Abner Hunter died—1 have been tryin to think of somethin good to say in regards to his name and memory. Well, Abner Hunter was a mighty good man to have around the sick or the dead. If he was worth a continen- tial for anything else in this round created world 1 don’t know what it was. But for r.ursin the sick, or settin up with t he dead, he was the most willin and handyest man I ever have saw. In times of trials and troubles and tribu lations, if they wanted somebody to go after the doctor, or nurse the sick, or ret up with the dead, Abner Hun ter was right there—always ready and willin. It was never too soon or too late, too hot or too cold, for him to nurse t he sick and set up with the dead. And now since Abner Hunter is dead and gone the common way of all human flesh, I am glad that I cun look back and find one winnin pint in his general character. A Hood Time Jo ytilt. Here lately 1 have been thinkln a right smart in regards to the best time of year to quit. The licst time to quit ensslu and drfnkin sperils-of-cats-u-figlitin is jest liefore you start. Tho best time to quit eatln is when you git enough. The best time to quit work is Ix fore you git too tins!. And tho best time to quit srnokinyour pipe is liefore you set somethin on fire. Old man Berry BingstafT fell out with his ])i|>e and quit it one day last week. But he was a few minutes too late. It was a clear and gusty day, you understand, and the old man had started to town with a hale of cotton on his ox wagon. The wind took and hlowed the fire outen his pipe onto the cotton, and the whole tiling was in a light blaze quicker than you could say sent with your mouth open. The oxen they rooehed their backs and run rvwny. They run over a big bluff and into the creek, smashed the wagon into kindlin wood and broke the old man’s onlyeat, l°g—" hich he had left the other one nt Malvern Hill, or somewhere* in Hint neighborhood—and o forth and so on. What n gracious pity It is that the old man didn’t fall out with his pipe and quit it at the right time—Jest before It was evcrlnstlnly too late. The Good Book t»dls us that there Is a time for everything. And blc. sed is the man that knows a good time to quit. _ ItUFUB BANDERS. A Little Nnrprlsc ut Home. Von Bhimcr—I had 1 lie most singular thing hnp|>en p> me the ot her day. Did you ever go Into a man’s place to pay a hill you owed him and find him out? Plunkington (emphatically)—No, sir. Did that hajijn-n to you? “It did. I had a notion, or rntlior, I nerved myself up to it, to settle up some bills that I owed. Soon my way up from the* office I dropped in to see my fishmonger.” “And he was out?” “Correot. Then I tried my gfooer.” ‘‘He waa out.” “Bight. Plenty of rhopmen, hut no proprietor. Of course I left word that I culled in to settle up, hut wanted to see the proprietor first. Disputealioiit bills. See?” “Oh, yea; that strengthens your credit.” “Exactly. Then I cal led to see my butcher, and I’ll Is*, hanged If he wasn’t out nlso!” “By Jove! But you were In luck!” “No, I wasn’t.” “Why not?” “When I got home l found all of them waiting for n*e.” Western Figaro. .lew* LI vs Longer Thsn Hentlle*. The vital s'citisticH of Ixmdon arc the authority for the statement that on an average the life of a Jew In that city Is twice that of a Gentile, Dr. 11. "W. , Itichardsun says that the Jews of that j city arc exceptionally free from dls- ( en*e, and Virchow xnys that the race i ’’lias nt all times liecn distinguished by great tenacity of life. Consumption is scarcely known among the Jews and suicide Is thrce-fourtiui Jess frequent among thou than It isumongf^^^^^^ It Is a good time to write some more “meditations among the tombs,” or “an ode to melancholy,” or a few verses like: “This world is all a fleeting show.” The election is over, and the bad news keeps coming and the heavens are weed ing and everything is going wrong. Very early this morning I was sweet ly dreaming, when there was a gentle rap at the door, and I thought that pos sibly some friend or neighbor had come lo tell me that Bryan was elected, but the voice spake and said: “Mammy say she can’t come dis mornin’—she sick.” Oh, my poor, bleeding country. No cook, and the rain just pouring down. Mrs. Arp made no sign, so I slipped out of bed and dressed and tiptoed out to the culinary department. I fired up the stove and put on the hominy and coffee and fed the cow and brought in some wootl, and get everything ready for fem inine hands before I awakened them. Tn course of time they came and made the biscuit Jind fried the sausage and scrambled some eggs, and wo had a No. 1 breakfast and I felt better. Sor- row endurcth for a night, hut joy eom- eth in the morning after breakfast time. I felt cnim and serene, and did like Obediah Oldbuck always did when bal luck overtook him. I put on a clean shirt and went down town to re joice with those who were rejoicing and to weep with those w ho wept. Several days ago I had prepared my mind for defeat, I had hedged so that the disappointing shock would not be so shocking when it came, but still I secretly indulged in a hope that, there might be a landslide, an avalanche, an interposition of providence in Bryan’s fav ir. A man may think he is prepared for the worst., but he can’t cheat him self out of his wishes. My comfort row is in sympathizing wit h our hero, in admiring the grandeur of the. man who can now, like Paul, exclaim: “I have fought a good fight: I have kept 'Hie faith.” The coming historian will do him justice, and he will rank with the great men of t he nation. One thing I rejoice nt, and that is the election of n republican congress to co operate with McKinley. Let there be no excuse for Hie winning side, and if they do not revive the industries and pros perity of the country within the next four years then they must step down and out or they will be hurled from power ns Jupiter hurled Vulcan from the Olympian heights. Vulcan was nine days falling and broke his leg, and is lame yet. Now let. u« have peace and rest. I sincerely w ish that McKinley could stay in office for a term of ten years and then have to retire for good. The presiden• Hal term is too short. It takes all of one year to grease the machinery and get it in running order, and then two years for work, and the last year is de voted to mending fences and fixing up for another election. It is Hie same way with our governor’s election. The term is too short; and it. looks like some folks wnntto make it shorter still. The jieoplo Jire tired of elections—we get excited and get mad with one an other, and by the time wo get over It here comes another election, and we get mad again. We men folks could stand it fairly well, hut our women folks get excited too, and make some re marks that become a circulating me dium and cause unhealthy agitation of the female mind.—Bill Arp, in Atlanta Constitution. NOT INCLUDED. H« Wanted No Inferences Drawn from III* Courtesy. The hom'st farmer had ut tended Hie political merling in order, if possible, to get some light on the disputed ques tion of what honest money Is. The arguments of the candidate had failed to convince him, and when, after the speech was over, an informal reception was arranged, lie turned to go away without availing himself of the chance to pcrnoimlly meet the principal man of the occasion. “Aren't you going to shake hands I w ith him?” asked one ot the managers | of the meeting. “Nope,” was the reply. “I guess I’ll move on home.” “But you might not to miss this op portunity to get acquainted wit h a man of no much prominence.” “I guess he won’t lay awake nights grlevin over lief I go right along about my business.” “On tho contrary, lie told me that It was his sincere w ish to meet every man hero and grasp him hy the hand.” “Wal, I don’t agree with what he wiys. But 1 ain’t got nothin’ agin him personally, un' I wouldn’t have him go away feel in’ hurt fur the world. He don’t talk much different from lots o’ fellers thet’x come around promisin' ter do wonders fur us fannern ef we’d only vote fur him. But 1 don't cherish no spite. I'll go meet him, hut there's got ter lie a pervlso. I’ll extend my hand to him an’ I’ll let ’im grasp it. But he might ez well understun’ fust ez hist thet my leg don’t go along with H.”—Washington Htur. A Costly (.usury. The complexion specialist had found an opportunity to say u word to the Mtinunor girl. “I cun remove that tan,” she said, with a slight show of profe. sionu' pride. “Remove it!” The Hummer girl showed her azton* Ishmeut. “Why, yes,” replied the complexion spccia'Ut. "I assure you it can he done.” “But think of what it eo?;t me to get It,” protested the summer girl. “Doyou I can uffor J lo throw it away so Host. Ladles' Wrap* for the Coming Cold Season. The coming season will be marked by a lavish use of exceedingly bright colors. Military scarlet will be one of the prominent features of tho cold- weather costumes. Bed hats, red cloaks, red dresses, red trimmings of all sorts, are In the ascendant. Conserva tive taste modifies red with black or clouds it with white. A red an tin dress literally smothered in white lace was a recent order. A cloak of ml broadcloth, lined with satin and trimmed with a lattice pattern of b!*»ck satin ribbon, is one of the most stylish garments of the season. The interest of womankind is Just now turned toward outside garments, and everybody is wondering what is coming next. Among the styles shown are square-cut box coats that extend 10 to 14 inches below the waist-dire. These are made with perfectly square fronts and backs, cither plain or with a box-plait pressed closolj’ down, wnf- teau fashion, from the shoulders. Other styles have the plait running up to the collar. Another idea is three heavy plaits in the back, but these are not for autumn, being almost too heavy and cumbersome. They weight the shoul ders, and are not pleasant to wear. A garment modeled somewhat after the fashion of the old-time redingote is shown among the best importations. One model is of moderately heavy cloth, and is lined with irldescentsalin. The edges are finished with a wide band of black velvet, and similar bands of black velvet outline the seams and fin ish the cuffs, collars and lapels. A novelty is a long coat of broad cloth In two colors. The body of the garment is of ton color, the trimmings of black. The collar, deep cuffs and lapels are of black, and black bands are stitched down over all the seams, and a wide trimiinng of the broadcloth turns back from the front on either side. The garment in donble-breasted, and closes over a vest-shaped section that extends about half way down the skirt from the belt. This vest portion is embroidered and braided in the most elaltornte fash ion. The rest, of the garment is without garnit u re other than t he black cloth men- tioned. The sleeves are in the modified leg-o’-mutton shape that has l>een in troduced to let us dow n by easy grada tions from the enormous sleeves to the almost tight-fitting styles. The ulster is to be the general all- around useful clonk of the season. A few ulsters with capes are shown, others are merely the fitted garment. Many of them are lined throughout the waist and the upjier half of the skirt |>ortion. This is done for warmth, ami cloaks of this pattern, with double-breasted fronts, are adapted for extremely cold weather and driving. The latter cloak is a garment which is very popular, as many women are extremely ford of driving, and must l>e so arranged as to be easy and comfortable, and, at the same time, sufficiently well fitted to be trim and stylish, which combination Is by no meniks easy to secure. A cold- wentber garment of this sort i« made of ioffre-browu cloth, of a material some what like Irish frieze. The front laps over rather farther than the average double-breasted garment, giving an ad ditional warmth. The sleeves are very loose at the tops, and quite full nt the elbows, then narrow to cuffs of the usual shape. A cape, which Is lang enough to cover the arms to the w rists. Is furnished with the cloak. A new [>o!nt in this cape is a button and but tonhole nt the extreme points of the front. In windy weather the front cor ners of the cape are cross<*d and but ton and buttonhole are fastened at Hie back of the waist. This makes what is equivalent to big sleeves over those of the regularly fitted garment. Another cape, which is much longer, him n buttonhole made nl>out 12 inches bnek on either side of the front. Through these holes stni|)« attached to the edges of the cloak puss and fasP-n nt the back. This arrangement permits the enpe to fall below the waist line *ird is a much greater protection than could be imagined unless one has tried It. Circular capes will he quite ns much worn as heretofore and differ »ery slightly In shape from those of last sea son. A fancy of the moment is Hie round cape made of West-of-England broadcloth. The trimming may be either the elaborate braiding hereto fore described in the Ledger, or, what is just as much liked by many, IntHee- Work either of the material itself, made Into narrow strips and stitched on. or satin, velvet or ribbon. One cape is trimmed with ft ribbon of satin and moire. This describes curves, right angles and arabesques, and makes a most effective garment. Fur collars and wide lapels are also used on these Wcst-of-Englnnd broad cloth capes, and short capes of liroe.ide or velvet an* lined with ermine and trimmed witih rose ruchlngs of silk or velvet,—N. Y. Ledger. A Psat Heard. Three brothers bearing a remarkable resemblance to one another are in the habit of shaving nt Hie same barber’s shop. Not long since one of Hie brothers entered the shop early In Hie morning, and was shaved by a German who hud been at work In the shop only n fc.w days. About noon another brother cainc In and underwent a sim ilar operation at the hands of Hie same barber. In the evening the third brother mad*: Liu appearance, when the Ger man, dropping his razor In astonish ment, exclaimed: "Veil, iijKm my vord! dnt man hash do fashtest lienrd I ever saw. I shaves him dis morning, shaves him at din ner-times, and he gome* back now. mlt his Ward so long ns it never vii>ii!”— Ixmdon Tit-Bits. CrMpr .Inin. Tho common wild grape la l)4*st. far this. Boil soft and strain the grnp/e through n sieve, n pound of sugar to s pound of pulp. Boll SO minute*, stir ring often.—Ladle*’ World. Sam Jonos Philosophizes on tho Two Statos of Ma i kind. Nslthrr Conduce* to Ilappines* or Misery- Urecd and Avarice Dctipoll Character— Indigence and Prodigality Equally Harmful—The Uoldou Mean. These are relative terms, and the dif ference between the two is very small w hen projieriy estimated. A man feels os uncomfortable who has eaten too much iu> the fellow who is hungry. I had rather go ragged than overdressed. J had rather have no money than to have a barrel of money on top of me mashing the life out of me. I had rather live In a cabin than to live in a mansion w here cares were thicker than comforts. God has made humanity so Hint it is very un comfortable to want, so Hrat it is very miserable when it is surfeited. The ricli deserve us much sympathy ns the jioor. The laws of compensation are as unerring in human experience in a mut ter of dollars and cents as in any other phase of life. There is nothing in poverty or riches which of itself conduces to the happi ness of man, and not much in poverty or riches to make us miserable. Happi ness consists in what w e are and what we do for others. Misery is the result of selfishness, and a trump can be as selfish as a millionaire, or both can be generous and good. All the poor would like to be rich. Many of the rich envy the poor the happiness, the appetite and the power to sleep which is Hie her itage of the poor man. If a man is go ing to raise a family of children I don't know of anything bettor Hum poverty to raise them on. The lap of luxury and wealth has cradled but few grand men into existence from Adam down to this present hour. The homes of want and poverty have produced a large ma jority of the greatest and the liest of both men and women. Every boy in America between the ages of Ifi and 2*> needs a very poor father, n father who cannot help him at all, but n father whom h- must help. Then you put the pressure on the boy and develop him into a grand man. It Is the nature of man to lie down and take it easy when j - ou pension him. Ver}’ few men have enjoyed their wealth. A very wealthy man once re plied to a neighbor who told him that his son would spend his money faster than lie had made it: “Well,” said the wealthy man, “if my son en joys spending it as much as I enjoy making it lie will have a good time while it lasts.” But very few men can really ray that they enjoyed the drudgery. Hie toil and the application which produce a fortune. Making money, saving money and giving mon ey are throe fine arts. The two first are of eartli earthy. The third, giving money, is of Heaven. Heavenly. Tho poor would give much if they could. The rich could give much if they would. The rich do not understand the contin ued poverty of the poor. The poor do not see how tho rich could have gath ered what they have without the Login their nature predominating. I have been as poor as a dog and scarcely had nn3’thing I wanted. I have been where if I had a want that mone3' could bu3' I did not know what it was. I was ns happy wanting everything ns I have been having nil I wanted. What a man has or has not has about ns little to do with his happiness ns the dog star has to do with the tide. I know many very poor people who are very happy. I know some rich people who are happy. I know some of l»oth classes who are everlastingly misera ble. Anybody can he rich if the3’ will meet the conditions on which riches are gathered. Pat said that he got rich by doing without the things he was Just obliged to have. Anybody can be poor If they will meet the conditions of poverty. If you want to get rich pay ns you go and save ns yon go. If you want to be poor go in debt, and stay in debt until you get to where It is against 3'our Interest to pay the principal, and final ly get to where It is against your princi ple to pay Hie Interest. Then move out to the poorbouse und die. Greed and avarice will despoil any character and ruin any soul. In digence and prodigality are equally os harmful. Industry, frugality and lib erality are three twin brothers, which, whoQ born into a human life, arc the, very foundation, upon which human happiness is built, and without them no man can be happy long. A negro or poor white man enjo3's his corn bread und fat meat on his old pine table with tin plates and tin cu|m ns much ns any millionaire ever enjoyed the luxuries of his French cook and silver service table. A |»oor white man will sleep ns soundly on his shuck mattress ns the millionaire ever slept upon his downy bed. If a man has nothing, nobody bothers him. It is harder for n rich man to keep what he has than It was for him to make it, A millionaire could give away Ilia fortune in a day, if ever3’ appeal was liberally rmponded to. If the |Kior had to carry the burdens of the rich they would throw down their riches with their burdens and sn3': “Give me my first estate. The gain is not wort h.n candle.” Good health, a good oonsclence and an upright life arc worth n thousand times more than the weulth gained at; (ho sacrifice, of honor, by the ruin of! health and the sullying of conscience.! When I look back ov"r the past quar ter of a century I can sec where, pinched by poverty and oppressed by want, no luxury ever came to me. Since then I; have seen the. time when I had all the! money I wanted; and If 1 were naked which is the liest estate, upon my honor 1 would say I had a thousand times less cures when > 1 hud leiutt. Poverty i Is like Josh Billings sold tight boot* were. lie said they were a luxury; they make a man forget nil about tibo rest of his troubles. When a man is poor bo has all his troubles in one, as a rule. Poor people, don’t have to g»t off to the springs and health resorts swry sum- * ■ 1 ' mrr for Hieir health. Poor people are not troubled with their rich kin vloit- ing them und worrying them. Poor IHtople have to move often, hut they don’t have much to move. Poor people ore never burglarized nor robbed. No- bod3’ wants what they have. They can go to sleep at night with evo^’ door open and every window up. The sun does not slight them by d:i3' nor Hie. moon by night. Poor people don’t have nervous troubles, sleepless nights, and weary da3 - s. Poor people are not troubled with bank accounts and bills pa3 , able and bills receivable. Beally, they seem to be troubled with onl3’ one thing, and that is their poverty. St. James was truly wise when lie said: “They that will be rich fall into temptation and snares and pierce themselves through ‘with man3’ sorrows.” Ihe nervous strains, the watchful anxiety. Hie rise and fall In values, the leakage and shrinkage, the rust and moths and thieves all pkty upon the rich. lienee the Bible says: “Lay not up for \ - ourselves riches in earth where moth and rust dot!) corrupt and where thieves break through and steal.” And there is not a piececf prop erty under the sun that one of these three things is not constantly at work tipon. Everything that a man has in this world is subject either to the rav ages of moth or rust, ortho onslaught of thieves. The rich and the poor ought to be in deeper sympathy with one another. The fellow w ho eats too much ought to divide more liberally with him who has had nothing to cat. The woman of good fortune had better give her last winter’s cloak to tlw* shivering widow than have the moths cal it up. In our debating societies when I was a 1)03' we used t<- get up the question of which affords the greatest happiness, pursuit or possession. Some dogs had rather run a rabbit than to cjit him after they catch him. With t-he gout on the one side and starvation on the other; w itli luxuries for some and wants for others; with wrecked health and ruined nervous si’s- lems for the rich, and the power to en joy all things without possessing the things you would enjoy with the poor, I 8.13' It is a question a philosopher might well hesitate to answer, which is the worst, wealth or want? I would rather strike the golden mean and lie- long to the middle class, not pinched l>3 r want nor surfeited with wealth, where manhood has its higher play and char acter and conseicnee have the field. GAM P. JONES. WINGED GEEDC. Tho Wind Plays nn Important Part In Hie Spreading of Plants. The usual wa3' for seeds to he eairied Is 1)3' the w ind. Sometimes they are so small and light as to Le easily wifltd by the breezes. This is the case with Hie seed of the moccasin llowcia and meadow pinks, and the other heauiiftil plants of our woods and bogs called orchids. And the tiny bodies, like atoms of dust, termed “spores,” that answer to seed in ferns and monies and toadstools, arc borne away hy the light est breath of air. But most seeds aro themselves too heavy^ for this. So they are often provided with thin, b:ond w ings that carry them Ix-fore the w*nd as a sail carries a boat. The pairs of “keys” that hang in clusters from the maple trees in spring are such winged fruits. When rijic H)P3’ float slowly to> the ground, or if a high wind is blow ing, thc3' arc carried farther from Hu> tree. The ash has thick bunche* of winged fruit much like these, but sin gle. The elm has a thin, papery bor der all around its small seeds, which makes them quite conspicuous as they hang on the branchlets before tho leaves have come out. Numbers of plants have about tho seeds delicate hairs or bristles that take the place of wings. A dandelion- "clock," or a head of thistle-down, *e n bunch of seeds, each with a circle of fine bristles on the summit. When tho seeds are ripe, along comes a breeze, and puff! awn3 - go the seeds, hangiiig- from their tufts of bristles, ns the bas ket hangs from a balloon. The bunches of long .silk3 - hairs that come from a bursting ]>od of milkweed, und fill the nir around, have each their precious, cargo in the shape of a small, brow n seed. The seeds that ripen in heads on the clematis, after the handsome pur ple flower leaves have fallen, have long- feathered tails, like slender binl- plumes, that do the same work that in given to the silk of the milkweed. The “cotton" around the seeds of the wil lows at the riverside and of the poplars along city streets serve the same useful purpose. Cotton itself is only a bunch of fine white hair around the seed. Ages before men thought of spinning It, and weaving It into cloth, it was making itself useful to the cotton plant by helping to scatter its seeds.—Thom as II. Kearney, Jr., In St. Nicholaj. Evolution of the Pin. Thorns were originally used In fast ening garments together, says the New York Commercial Advertiser. Pins did not i mined lately succeed thorns usfast- enera, but different appliances were used, such ns hooks, buckles and laces. It was tho latter half of the fifteenth century before pins were used in Great Brintin. When first manufactured In England the ironwire, of proper lengt h, was filed to a point, and the other ex tremity twisted into a head. This was slow process and 400 or 500 pins wns a good day’s work for an expert. Hrltiah Sun Dial*. A sun dial made for London would lo useless for either Puiris or Edinburgh. The altitude of the polestar varies with ♦ he latitude, und hence la greater at Edinburgh and less at Paris than at I/ondon, and ns tho stylus must always point to the polar star, the angle it makes with the dial plute must vary with the latitude.—Chicago Chronicle. Pavorlte Oriental DDhe*. In India tho flesh of the elephant is * favorite dKb, while In Arabia tho horse and in Egypt the camel are eaUn with relish.