Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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> ' V "V'$ ih S.-- * -s w ’ % / • 1 *i’*}*■. . , .•• ' f ,Te1 THE LEDGER: GAFFNEY, r S. C., JULY 16, 1890. 3 THE ‘’ORPHAN! COLT" Bow Little Jimmy Soruggino Whipped His Fight. The Way to Take • Itoy »nd Mak«> Man of Qlin—Give Him «n Open Field and a Fair Fight. Jilt was Intr nloDg info the fall of fhe year. Tho fields was brown ard with ered. The trees was changin colors and the woods was full of grapes and nnisoodincs and chinltypins and chestnuts and the like of that, when little Jim mie Seruggins made his first appearment in the Rocky Creek settlement. op, and I give him a right smart| rope so he could work a little and piny! a heap and have his way and take his iwn gait like itsultcdhim. Rut he didn’t; need any pot tin, and he wouldn’t be ,piled in tho raisin. It never was too late or too soon, or too hot or too eold for little Jimmy to be up and about; lendin to the variou; and sundry odds and ends and jobs and turns that was laid out for him around the place. He was always ready rind always wilUn/ and when you say that about a yearlin boy you have remarked a w hole passle. IN HIS OLD AGE. Bill Arp Tolls What an Old Man of Seventy Can Do. Old Aga Hit, ltd Rewards •• Wall Its lallrinltle*—What the Poeta Have Said—Arp and 111* Grandchild. Tralntng Up a Farmer. The second year after little Jimmy come to live with us I put him in train- in for a farmer. I .give him n cotton patch for his ownest own. you under stand, and told him he could work it at odd times and between drinks, as it were, when mother didn’t have him humped and hustlin around the house. In the meantime I let the hands plow right on through his patch like it was mine, and lie didn’t have nothin to do but to hoe and pick it out. That fall when the crops were nil out of the fields and the cash was in the old sock me and Jimmy had to settle up, and after considerable figuration it Tho First Family Talk. I remember ihe same ns if it was yes terday how little Jimmy looked the firvt mom In he showed up at our house look- | seems like he was ahead of the music in for “somethin to do and summers to | to the extent of seven dollars and six stay," ns ho was wont to tell it. lie was ' bits. So w e then had a settlement on about the sorriest and moat seediest i the spot and I paid him every eent in lookln customor that was over turned full thnt was oomln to him. And if he out in these parts. He wosso seandlous pale and slim and puny and. sickly ap- pearin till it made mo feel role sorry about somethin to look at him. “Hello Ruster!” says I. “Did astray wind blow you up, or did you Jest draw down? How far have you come since you psiKs<>il the Inst mile post this side of home?” “If you please, mister," says he, “I ain’t got ro home, and I am lookin for somethin to do and .summers to stay.’* “You don't look big and strong enough to make a reglar field hard,” I went on to say as I sized the youngster up. “I am sheered you mought maybe dry up on the stem, or blow away or turn to somethin good to eat. Maybe your ma don’t put rtiough salt in your dirt." “1 ain’t got no mn,” says ho, and the next niinnit there was teoor3 hacked up in his eyes, and from where T was blamed if they didn’t look most as big as glass marbles to me. I'lien I got sorry right away for what I had spoke and the way in which I spoke II, 'cause if there is anything in this vain and wicked w orld which I do love next to little girls it is little boys, floln out to the gate I took him by the hand, and then presently we was restln on the front door steps hnvln a private family talk amongst ourselves. I dassent ask him about bis jm for fears it mought break him up again and start him off into another cryin spell, lint tarcctly he tip and told me, free gratis, for nothin, as It were, th^t he never did have no pa so fur as he knows of. The first thing he knowed he was iivln in town with his mn. but seein how the country was the be«t place for poor folks, they moved put to the old Grimes farm, w here they lived and got along right tolerable well till his ma took sick with a fever or sompr thin and died. And so it had now conic to pass that he didn’t have no ma, nor pn, nor nothin. *• Mother, She Wa* Willis'." *T am nine years old and gwtne on ten.” says little Jimmy as lie mopped the tears outen his eye* with the knuckles of o«e hand. “I nlnt very big to my size, but I’ll grow fast from now on. I am a w hole pastde stronger than I look and I can do a heap of things. I can tote wood, and fetch water, and drive up the rows, ami feed the horses, and sweep and hoc, and churn, and pick- cotton, and I will l»e big enough to plow- in two or three years. Whilst I’m little and weosly like I am I dou’t want not hin but somtliJn *o do and summers to stay, and I nm willin to work for that.’’ Alsmt that time mother she come out ♦o where wo was and wanted to know where in the round created world did the child come ^om. I told her Ik* was what you mought call an orphan! colt, without lied or feed or jsister and I was thinkiii right serious about tumln him in my lot for the winter anyhow. Then I put In and give her little Jimmy’s story exactly like he had told It to me. She was a right smart moved towards the b jy when she heard he didn't have no mn, though she w;us powerful had w orried to think that lie never did have no ]>a. Rut still at the same time site was w illin to leave it with mo, ns I w as the general boss. Anything I said went w ith her, and she was always moix* than willin to do her part by the friendless and 'iie homeless and the helpless. “Life in this valley of dry ismes is full of U|)s and downs, and most in generally downs, Rufus/’ snj's she, “and nolssly knows what we may come to some of these days.” So I told little Jimmy that lie mought come In and live with us, and call onr home 1)1* home till he could do IsMter. lives a hundred years lie never will be as rich as he w as that day. He was as proud ns a young rooster with his first tail feathers. I have knowed folks that would give their boys patches to work ami eall their own, and then along In the fall the money would get mixed up with the general family funs and never reach the boys’ jxtekets. Rut that aint right. The way to make somethin out of a hoy and make him b'cl like he Is somebody from somewheres is to give him a boy’s chances and tote fair with him. If you don’t want to raise a sneak yon must treat the boy like the world is coimtin on him for the roakia of a man some of t hese days. Little Jimmy took his money and put it away where he could look at it onest in awhile, and kept it two or tiiree weeks before he said anything about spendin of it. When we settled up I told him the money was his—he had w orked for it amlyearnt it with his own hands, and he could git the good of it any way he w anted to. He could save it for luck, or he could spend it for Christmas, and it was nolnxly’s busi ness but hie. Rutone mornwi he showed up all of a suddont like and wanted to know what I would take for that little heifer calf, which our old dun cow had died and left the summer before. Now, thnt calf was about three parts Jersey and come from a frudly of tine milkers and 1 lowed she wi:.< worth ten dollars of any man’s money. Rut. he in as it was Jimmy Mid 1 eeuid s : /e ins pile 1 told him he could take her for seven dollars If the liggers suited 1dm. Right there we closed tho trade and Jimmy didn’t have but only t.lx bits left. Rut ho lowed that was nough to buy him a new knife and some little extrics for Christmas. The next day we went out and put. the yeariin in Jimmy's mark— a crop in t!;<* h it • ar and a underbit in the tight mil she was ills hencc- forwards and forever r fler thnt. Too Boy to the Front. When little Jimmy was lit past, 14 next grass bo eommeneed itoidin the plow bandit s ttilepihle regular. He had to jump at d wlggie powerful at first, like one of thos old Jaoksnnppers with a strlne tied to id: h g. Rut it want so very long before lx* worked ids hand In and got tin hong of it, and then it ailfn. pliant l*oy could was smooth and cm . At 14 that stray t plow n straight furrow and put ns much fresli dirt behind h'i In a day as any ruin, white orbl.e-!;, the settlement. We would give him n little sehoolin in tho winter od then turn him loose on the fatm. Tilings nicked along about so till little Jimmy was IS years old, and a right smart chunk of n boy. Ho was now runnin up and fiU'.noutnnd tnkin on tV m neral shape of a man. About that time I made another trade with h'tn t > run th • farm three years, and when tile tit. • run out the Ikiv had about $300 put :.we\ in one of his Inst rear's socks. He likewise also had eight cows, with four calves and four yearlins, mr.'.in 1:> lx -.1 of cattle—ail grade Jmx'vs. Ph> in Ids own pri vate mark, the whole entire herd bavin come flom the |iit!<: orphan! enlf.w’hieh the same he hud bought of mo for seven dollars. Wiilopcil flip FI i.t Hand* Down. hi 1 umni [>!> d The Boy Wu* » Caat’oo. N j doubts you have seen boys in your cloy and time that had n reglar ga! look. Well, it was the name way with little Jimmie. Seems to me like about all that kept him from bcin a girl was a wool hat gone to seed, and red jeans breeches, and a set of homemade gal luses, instld of a blue checkered «lrc«s and a pink sunbonnet. He was so pale and tallow-faceted till bless gracious I could see the blue veins under Ids skin. hU hands so little and white and thin till I could mighty nigh sec through them, and ills arms ami legs was swelled tip so till they looked like pipe fitems. Rut Jimmy maintained from the start that he was a thoroughbred American boy, and able and willin to do a boy’* jxirt till he growrd some more and could call himself a man. And. by gntlins, he stood his ground and fought it out on them lines. When it come to light work he was a plum caution to be certainly. I wanted to be gentlo and easy with him to make up for hurtlo his feelins that mornin when he first turned • he whipped his It hands down. iic*; <!•)•.' a tlu* road you p: iti.e -! fai m in all t lw*e J he house set* back in c;:k trees. Itis painted Well, littl fight, and v About three ) will pass by tlu regions rout •!. n big patch ol white with green trliun.insand a light- nin rod on it. On the left hand side of the roml us y u go *. on v. ill notice a big posit r. w ith a • pring branch runnin through It and a In.e herd of cattle grnz- in around or :> tin 'hndcr the shade of the trees. J’.v -ry cow- and ealf and year lin in tliat. pa ti r is market] with a crop in 11)" left ear and a underbitin the v h right. '1 the mime of Seruggins. or I to 1m*. WhcTi !e l give him 1 h -. must now wl;' has kept up a 11 t’. tgood davit Aft. i cage h< ng t«i a young man by eruggins- deems Sanders lb tie Jimmy, as he use lie v free, white and 21 rein: and told him be !e for himself, and he i .endoiis w igglln from t his I dosed hour. Ini' in tho land and huildiu his caught a bird to mate wit h him. "How many miles to Milybright? Three score and ten.” Now, since 1 have just passed iny 70th year on this mun dane sphere, I can’t keep thnt old re frain out of my mind. Three score and ten! It follows me about, and seems to say; "Your time is out, old gentleman. Every day you live now is dci gratia— u favor—an extra allowance that was not promised and is not deserved. So, old os gracefully and give ns much pleasure to those around us. Rut some folks arc born to trouble as the sparks fly upward, and I nm one of them about these times. The old cow wanted grass, and this has nil dried up, ami so she broke into my potato patch and eat oil all the vines; and the I Colorado beetles got into another patch and just cleaned up nil the leaves' before I found It out; and the dog scratched a bed between the nmdeira vines and the wall of the veranda, and some of them are dying, ami it hasn’t rained enough In nine weeks to run in the road, and my garden has dried up, and the city fathers won’t let me In-U gate any more because water is getting scarce. The penalty is $50 fine, but the mayor told me confidentially thnt I might irrigate on the sly, but I mustn’t be caught at it. Like the negro prench- THE BURDENS WE BEAR. be thankful and prudent, and dou’t drink too much ice water this hot j cr told his congregation thnt they ! weather’ A young man's majority is must never be cotchcd stealing chick Ami if you notice right dost you will be more than probnbb* to see Mines Scrog gins htirrin around 11m house ns you Jimmy has whipped p;w‘(l jt hands down, ■k niul dig and sweat lit and work and dig inch rf the ground, bl PI H BANHCRS. ii* greatest practieal dbcovred the Jaws nud determined the orbitk of most of the planet:.. Callilco wfii the leader In modern astronomical aeicocc. 21, an old man’s 70. Twice he crosses the Rubicon, if he lives that long, and then comes another river—a darker one —and like Caesar he may say: ‘Jacta est alea’—the die is cast.” 1 was ruminating about this 70 years —this magical sacred number that is man's allotcd age. Seventy learned m< n trsnslatcd the Old Testament 300 years before Christ, and 70 disciples were sent out by Him an missionaries to preach the Cospel and establish His church. It was Moses who wrote that the days of our ye&rs shall be lime score and ten, and yet he lived to be 120 years—nearly twice the allotted age, and half of which whs labor niul sorrow—w orking with a vexatious and ungrateful people. It is curious how gradually the age of man kind dropped down from 900 to 130 in ten generations that succeeded Noah; then It dropped to 70 in the next ton, and there it stands. There has been no change for 4,000 years. The long suf fering to the Creator seems to have been appeased. Well, of course these 70 years arc* not the fixed limit for man or woman, but they are certainly the allotment of human longevity. Rut few go beyond it. The wagon breaks down all over. It can’t be patched up any more. For several years it lias been sent to the shop occasionally for repairs, and been doing light work, but the time will surely come when wheels and axles ned hounds must all collapse. This is no misfortune nor fault nor penalty, but, ns Judge Hammond used to say: "It is the law of this case,” and there is nothing so ! very sad or horrible about it. It is just | such a change us ail nature is going J through, and if a man lives right, he has 1 no reason to lament its coming. Every , seed of tree or flower is a symliol of our i own resurrection. Old age has its rewards ns well as its i infirmities. Moses said that the young men shall stand up and honor the fores of the old men, and many ef the promises are a good old age—a full age—a ripe old ngc, ns n shock of corn In its season. Hdw considerate are the children to their aged parents, and how- loving are their grandchildren. They run our errands and comb my back- hair and blaek my shoes and go to the SLAUGHTER OF THE GALILEANS. Fontlns Pilate Armed III* Soldier* with Cinb* of Borl.ilon. It was Pilate’s custom to come to his oilicial residence—a kind of pnince for public businem—during all feasts, and lie was tlu*re that day; but he was in a very ugly frame of mind. Such men os Reu Nassur, aided by zealots from other places, were arousing tlu*ir follower* more and more from hour to hour, until at lust an angry multitude, swarmed around the gates of Pilate’s house, curs ing him in the name of the law, ami of the temple. They clamored for the res titution of the treasures taken from th* priests; the cessation of the aqueduct work, which the fall of the tower so plainly declared to be wicked; and they furiously demanded the removal of the Temple guards. The Roman governor had not the least him of granting any of these demands, {mil he. determined to teach the angry Galileans a lesson. He sent to his cani|>s for a large number of soldiers. They were not to coma in armor, but in ordii r.ury clothing, and were to be armed only with clubs. Strong men can do n gretit deni of damage with heavy cud gels. but Pilate's Idea was to express in this way his Holdicsrly contempt for a post office. The years from 70 to *0 Jewish mob. His men were ordered R> are not always years of labor and sor row—sometime* they are the best of — J.ej iir astronomer. 11< oil. Sydney Smith said: 'T am 74years old, am at case in my circumstances, in tolerable health, a mild whig, n tob rrating churchman, much given to talking, laughing and noise. I am. ujion the whole, a happy man—luivo found the world entertaining, and am thankful to Providence for the part al lotted me. In it.” Much depends on a man’s surround ings, but more depends on his philoso phy. On6 poet says: ” The world t* very lovely. Oh, my God, I thunk Thee that I live." Another says: *• I would not live alway, I ask not to stay Where storm after storm grows dark o’er the way.” Bryant writes beautifully about life and death and lying down to pleasant dreams. Dr. Holmes poke* his irresist ible humor at old age: “ But now his nose Is thin And rests upon his chin Like a stag. And a crook Is In his back And a melancholy crack In his laugh; Put I know It Is a sin For me to sit and grin At him here.” And it was. He should have risen up according to Scripture and tipped his hat to the poor old man. Rut the l>earn are extinct in that region, ami the doctor knew It. Mr. Shakespeare is somewhat sarcas tic himself, for he makes Prince Hal any to FnistafT: "Are you not written down with nil the characters of old age? Have you not a moist eye, a dry hand, a yellow cheek, a white heard, a decreasing leg, an liierensing eor|>oro.s4ty? Is not your voice broken, your wind short, your chin double, your wit single, and every part about you blasted with an tiquity?” Thnt Is a vile slander upon the three rcore and ten of this generation. Look at the stalwart forms of many of At lanta’s notable men who have long since passed the Rubicon, such ns Dr. Alexander, George Adair, Chess How ard, Redwine and I/uvshe and big Jim Dunlap. “Big Jim” says he is just the age of Rismarck and Gladstone, the Hire** greatest living octogenarians— and there is no xnelaeholy ernck in his laugh. George Adair is still a Scotch Irishman from away back, and if he hadn’t have fallen downstairs at the "Old Village School” show, would be taken for about three score and five, •ml no more. And Dr. Alexander is not even a 05-yenr suspect. In fact, old age carries Itself better now than it used to. People take more pride in their person al appearance, especially the women. 1 was just thinking about a neighbor whose visits arc always welcome--who comes with n smile and never says a bitter or a foolish thing. She is said to be old, but she still is beautiful, and sit* in her chair witli tin* graceful case of a young matron of the olden time, fibe has had trouble, but hidea it in her heart, and is always calm and se rene. Would that we all could {prow Bam Joaos Writes of Wayward Sons and Daughter* Re Say* That In Wlna Fa*** Out *f They Are the Can** af the Car«* and Durden* of Life. Tea ens. So, now when I st**al water I do it darkly, at dead of night, with one eye on the hose and the other on Sandy IVikle, the waterman. But my comfort, now is in nursing and amusing our little grandchild. Her mother has gone off on a fishing excur sion for a few* days to recuperate her health, and she gave me the child, I say gave her to me, because she loves me better than anybody, and that makes her grandma Jealous and flatters my vanity, and satisfies me thnt I *im neither old nor ugly, nor Is my vole# broken nor a melancholy crack in mr laugh. In fact. I can still sing "Hush, My Dear" and "Julianna Johnson" w ith Mifllcicnt melody to put the littl'* dar ling to sleep. I can answer thnt old song “What Can an Old Man Do Put Die,” by saying that he can take ear* of the grandchildren while the mother ' has gone n-fishing.—Rill Arp. in At lanta Constitution. surround It and to wait for such com mands as he might give them. Cyril’s fear of the rabbis nud priests grew- stronger as he drew near the tem ple. There wos no othe.r |>lace on earth, he believed, where n sacrifice to God could be offered n« solemnly as upon the brazen gold-ornamented altar of burnt offering, w hich he and his father were «oon to see. I/ouder and louder grew the sounds of the tumult in the open spare before the governor’s pnlnec, but Cyril and his father could no longer hear It, for they wore now in the outer court of the tem ple. They advanced toward the step* leading up to the gorgeously gilded portals of the inner court. Here they were met by a Invite to whom Ezra at once handed the fleecy offering w hich he had brought and liad so far carried in his arms. During never a 1 minutes, however, there had been strange sounds bej’ond the gate of the outer court, and they* were font growing louder. Ezra and his son would have paused to listen, but the Ijevite led the way into the in ner court and they followed. In a moment more Cyril could sec* the smok ing ultar, the splendidly arrayed priests, the chanting Levites, the swing ing censers, and all the grant! appli ances of the temple worship. Every thing was splendid beyond his imagin ings; but he could not look at it for more than a moment. Cehind him, surging through the gate into the outer court, filling that space, and then pour ing on into the inner court, came a shouting, shrieking, maddened multi tude. Pilate’s club men had been doing their brutal work only too well. and. if his soldiers carried clubs aniy. other enemies of the Galileans (and they were many) had seized this opportunitj*. for steel blades were flashing among the pursuers. An angry mob were now pitilessly smiting down the Jews who had protested so zealously for the tem ple and the law*. Thej- did not pause nt the gate of the Inner court, hut, in a moment more, there were slain Galileans tying among the bodies of the animals prepared for sacrifice, nod the revenge of Pilate upon those who had upbraided him was bo* coming terrible. The priests and other temple officers were fleeing.—IV. O. Stoddard, in St, Nicholas. (low m Woman Was Robbsd. Mrs. C. Riddle, who gave her resi dence ns Delaware, O., told the police of Columbus a queer story the other day. She says that while on the train the other day a well-dressed stranger handed around » jar of clarified honey. She smelled of it, fell asleep and w hen she awoke her pocketbook with all her money was gone. She says that, the honey had been doctored. Men Ars So Dl.Terent The Lover—I love you! I love you! I can’t live without you. The Widow—That’s queer. My hu»- Land used to tell tno that he could not live with uoc.—Town Topics. The Patriarch Job said: "Mon is as born unto troublo as the sparks to fly upward." A man perfectly free from ■ II cures and burdens would be the world’s greatest curiosity. Innocence docs not exempt us and piety affords no protection “for many of the afflictions of the righteous," and the Ixml must deliver him out of them all. The mistakes of our live* have been many, ami they often burden ns with regrets. If not remorse. He who is free from the mistakes of life Is not human, and were the mistakes of our past brought and placed before us we would he astonished nt their number and mag nitude, and however honest and unsel fish we might have !>ern. human life is full of mistakes and they often burden our lives with period* of long regrets. The flagrant sins of our lives add tlioiiKnnds of pangs and pains to the con science. tho memory of which we have no room to contain and no outlet for their retread. God Himself cannot help us out. for He is powerless to make what ought not to have been so it ougat taj>ave been. f The burden of debt havi driven many to despair. Debt has wrecked the lives sad driven to suicide thousands of men. There are millions to-day who are groping and groaning under the burden of the debts they can never pay, and tbeir lives have shriveled ami their hope has welt-nigh died out. Debtor and creditor are ns uncongenial as cat and •log. D«*btor unable *o pay. creditor un willing to compromise, but I reckon when we get free silver with free schools and freebooksand free hoarding-houKos, with free clothing stores thrown ini we will then lie able to pay some debt*. I have seen men chafing under the bur dens which their mistakes brought to them. 1 have seen men groaning under the burden of debt, but the most insuf ferable burden that human hearts eorry to-day is carried by gray-headed fa thers and mothers on account of ’ho lives of their wayward. Godless chil dren. If all the trials and heartaches w hich nre brought to human lives to day. us the result of ruthless, wayward ehiidren trampling upon the hearts of their parents, could W congregated and aggregated, the horrors of the damned would scarcely equal them in their in sufferable ravages uj)on humaif sensi bilities. I talked some weeks ago with a grand, grave old general of our !ast rivll war, and as the tears trickled down his checks, lie said: “1 nm so unhappy and miserable myself. “Why." said I. "gen eral. what is the matter?” "Oh.” he said, “the saloons have got my boy. Perchance." he said. "I might bear the tortures, but it is killing my poor wife. I'nless that boy holds up I cannot hope thnt she will endure it six months longer." The moFt inhuman wretch who lives out of perdition to-day is the cruel boy or debauched husband who goes trooj>- Ing it downward with every step of his cruel foot put down upon the ten der heart of his good mother or noble wife. There Is no more cruel foot than the one going down on the bleeding hearts ax the wayward wretch makes his way to hell. Our greatest joys In this life come to us as we look upon the children of our home growing up to manhood without reckless habits or ruinous tendencies. Whether we be prince or peasant, rich or poor, happy are we if we have our reward in noble, true, honest. In dustrious hoys and girls.' Too mnnv boys are Idle. Too many girls ambi tious simply to be pretty little things. Idleness is a habit that reaches out and affords the tendencies thnt ruin a boy and w recks the happiness of the home. The saloon and poolroom, the gambling hell and shameless houses lie nil along the pathway of an idle young man. The ballroom and theater and german dance and buggy ride and champagne supper all lie along the pathway of tho giddy girl who flits through life with the gaudy beauty of a butterfly with- j out leaving a pleasant memory in n day of her life upon which father and moth er may look with fondness and grati* Hide. When we sum up the cares and bur dens of life of this country we will find in nine eases out of ten that a wayward boy or a fast girl is the cauan of it all. Insubordination to rule and right cast the angels out of Heaven and gave the devil a mortgage on this world, and it Is a fight now to keep the devil from foreclosing the mortgage on the whole business. No woman can be happy with a wrecked husband; no persons could be happy with a wrecked member of their family, alive, kicking and Godless, staring them in the face. It is not the skeleton in the closet: it is the living devil going around, em bodied in a wayward son or wayward daughter. I am sorry that I have ever run up against so many bleeding hearts and ruined homes. Let the young man whose eyes run over this article stop and ask himself the question: “Is my foot on mothcr’a heart?" Let every wrecked husband whose eye falls on this article pause long enough to sec thst the most Inhuman phase of his life is the cares and burdens with which he loads the heart of the one whom he promised to love and cherish and keep so long as both of them should live. If we turn the picture for n moment and let the wayward children and mined husbands “right about" and give joy where they have given grief, hnppl- nesa instead of misery, blessings In stead of curses, honor instead of dis honor, how we would soon reverse the order of things and make the world happy and bright. I thank God for every true, noble young man whom I meet, and they art many. X thank God for every true, pure-spirited girl who blesses her home. I thank God for every sober, honest, upright husband who is nn honor to his wife. I nm «ure thatwe, have no other than the devil to thank for nil others not included in the nlKwe.' To see a tear of grief and shame) trickle down the face of father and! mother for the child with ruined life in their home—this is enough to put the angels In sympathy with them. To see the happy, joyous parents talk of their noble boy, of their pure daugh ter, and watch their ryes sparkle with delight and their faces l)eam with joy—• it seems that all the joys of Heaven are banked in their faces. SAM P. JONES. - INDIAN LEGENDS. H*w Superstition Led a Tribe to Give Up, Polysrmmy. At the time snd for centuries after the advent of the Pima Indians into this country they practiced polygamy, and this will show how a little superstitious belief will change a custom of centuries. As the story goes, a short time after the restoration of the Snhunro (Ilaas-cn). the whole tribe woa stricken with » strange riisea.se. It was malignant in form and many deaths resulted. The great medicine men and magicians from nil parts of the country were called to gether for counsel to see by what means they oould propitiate Mo-kik-a-num, the death god. The magicians labored long and earnestly, but still the death god refused to stay his hand. It seems that fasting has had much to do in the ritual of the aboriginal. I have always noted thnt when com municating their superstitious beliefs when they wanted to solicitor petition one of their gods they always eonsid- crcd it necessary to fast for a given ]>e- riod. When they found they could not subdue the evil death god by magic the magicians hastened loan open plain and there fasted for three days. They were, however, privileged to eat roots snd drink water carried from the river in the tanned stomach of nn antelope, and nil the time singing their songs to th«* sun god (Tas-o-Tham). Finally, on the afternoon of the third dur nn immense herd of nnteJope np- penred on a low hill not far distant. On their appearance the chief magician arose and said to the others: “What ever these animals do our people must do likewise; they nre spiritual and have boon sent by the great sun god.” While the medicine men were looking the an telopes paired off and passed on. As the last pair disappeared the chief ma gician again spoke. He said: “Return to your homes snd then let each man consult with his neighbor and Ik? content with one wom an (ova) for wife. That will appease and gratify our sun god. Continue to prohibit plural wives, and the death spirit will abide with us no longer.” The people were very reluctant to break up their polygatnlsh homes, but. being driven by fear of death, they consented. It is a known fact that, the Indinns gave up polygamy long laffore tho Jesuits arrived In this country. Rut the nlsdltion of the practice has wrong fully been attributed to the influence of the Jesuit fathers. Strange ns it may appear, witchcraft wnsneitherknown nor practiced among the Indians prior to the advent df the Jesuit fathers. The first martyr to witchcraft was an old Indian woman who lived alone with ft blind daughter about ten miles from San Xavier. She was put to death for stopping the water running down the Santa Cruz. A short distance from this woman’s house the water sank. Where the water disaji- |H*nred some of the Indinns saw the old woman digging holes in the sand with her hands. That was sufficient ev idence of witchcraft against her. She was arraigned, condemned and burned at the stake. Finally Jhe medicine men got too assiduous in the hunt after witches. There were too many human bonfires l>clng made, so the people changed the proceedings and burned, several medicine men. From that time to the present day, instead of accusing human beings of witchcraft, the pres ent generation of Indians accuse and find witches In nnimnis—dogs, cow* and horses—and in many cases they find witches in inanimate things, such ns stones, rags and sticks.—Tucson Citi zen. Cream of the Crop. Mr. Phineus Rent was well known In the small village where he lived ns a man ever ready to stand up for what he considered his “rights.” He owned a large, barren field on the outskirts of the town. The grass, like the soil, was thin and scanty, while the stones were large and superabundant. One year, when the season for road repairs came round, the workmen gathered several barrowfuls of stones from this field, and used them to fill In a bad gully In the road. “I reckon Mr. Rent will bo willing to pay us a little something for picking them up,” suggested one of the men. Rut, much to their surprise, ho considered that his rights had been in fringed upon. “The town will have to jwiy for those stones,” he announced.' “They haven’t any more right to go into my field and pick up stones than they have to go in there and pick up po tatoes.’’ The morning after be dis covered his loss he was seen at an early hour sitting beside the road near tho field. lie was munching a good-sized doughnut, and explained fo a jMutser-by that he didn't have time to finish his breakfast. “I believe in looking after property when you hnp|>en to have ■by,” he explained; “and the way thing* hro now, folk* will take the cream of the ■rop off a field without saying a word about it”—Youth’s Companion. TIi* Kegro Death Rata. At a recent conference held at At lanta university there was a discussion in regard to the alarming increase in the death rate of negroes in cities and large towns from such diseases ns con sumption and pneumonia, and it was decided to collect data on the subject, with a view to finding a remedy. Little Queen Wilhelmina of Holland; la learning to ride • bicycle.