University of South Carolina Libraries
\ a THK T15DCER: GAFFNEY, S. C., AITGITST «, 1890. THE GLOW OF SUNSET REV. DR. TALMAGE SOUNDS THE GOS PEL OF GOOD CHEER. Toward Kvrnlnj; Tli« (ilooiiijr Hour of Temptation Ten<5onoy to Borrow Trou- blr—SwcetenhiK tho Cup—The Blnttlag Out of a Cifo Bereavement* CJftcd, WASIlixaTON, Anp. 2.—Dr. T:il- »naKt'’s Hilijt'Tt today lights up tho Mor rows of tliis life and rounds tho gospi l of pood chorr for all who will rm ivo it. Hid text was Luko xxiv, 20, “Abide with uh, for .t is toward evening. ” Two villagers, havirgconcluded their errand in Jernsalem, have started out at the city pate and are on their way to Emmaus, the place of their, residence. They go with a sad heart. Jesus, who hud been their admiration and their joy, had bi'cn basely massacred and en tombed. As, with sad face and broken heart, they pass on their way a stranger accosts them. They tell him their anx- | ietics and bitterness of soul, lb' in turn : talks to them, mightily expounding the | Scriptures. He throws over them the | fascination of intelligent conversation. They forget the time and notice not the ; objeets they pass, and before they are 1 aware have come up in front of their house. They pause before the entrance and attempt to persuade the stranger to tarry with them. The y press upon him their hospitalities. Night is coining on, and he may meet a prowling wild Least or be obliged to lie unsheltered from the dew. He cannot go much farther now. Why not stop there and continue their pleasant conversation? They take him by the arm, and they insist upon his coming in, addressing him in the words, “Abide with us, for it is toward even ing.” Townril Evening. The candles are lighted; the table is spread; pleasant soeKilties arc enkindled. They rejoice in the presence of the stranger guest. He asks a blessing upon the bread they eat, and he hands a piece of it to each. Suddenly and with over whelming power the thought flashes npon the astonished people—it is the Lord! And as they sit in breathless wonder, looking upon tho resuiTeetoel body of Jesus, he* vanished. The hiter- viewv euideel. He was gone. With many of us it is a bright, sun shiny day of prospe rity. The re is not a cloud in the sky; not a leaf rustling in the forest; no chill in tho air. But we cannot expect all this to last. He- is not an intelligent man who experts perpet ual daylight e«f joy. The- sun will after awhile near the horizon. The shadows will lengthen. While I speak many of us stand in tho very hour dcscrilied in the text, “for it is toward evening.” The request of tho text is appropriate for some liofore me, for with them it is toward tho evening of old age. They have passed the> meridian e'f life-. They are sometimes start Ini to think how old they are. They do not, however, like to jvave oilier* remark upon it. If others st their approximation toward wnmable appearance, they sfly, ‘‘Why, I'm not so old, after all. ” They do, in deed, notice' that they cannot lift epiife so mnch as once. The y cannot walk quite Kf> fret. They cannot, read r’liite 1 so well without spec taedi s. They cannot so easily m ove rfrom a cough or any occa sional ailnent. They have lost their taste for merriment. They are surprised at the ejuiek passage of the* year. They say that it only ses-ms a little while ago that they we re boys. They are going a little down hill. There is something in the ir he alth, something in their vision, something in their walk, something in theiv chnuging associations, something above, something beneath, something within, to re mind them that it is to ward evening. The great want of all such is to have Jesus abide with them. It is s dismal thing to be getting old without the re*- juveuatitig influeue*e c;f religion. When we* ste p on tiie down grade e>f life and see that it dips to the ve*rge of the cold river, we want to behold some* one ne ar who will help us across it. When tho •sight le>ses its power to glance anil gather up, we nes el the faith that emu illumine. Whe n wo feel the' fa lure- of the ear, wo need the clear teine's eif that voice which in clele u times bn.ke up the silence ed the eleiaf with caebne-es e>f inere y. When thei axmen of elcath he’W down whole feire-sts of strength ami beauty around us unei we are left in sol- it>ud(‘, we need the* elem'eif divine* mercy to sing in our bn tidies. When tho shade)ws begin te> fall and wo feel that the day is far spemt, w e need most of all to supplicaro the strong, be neficent Jesus in the prayer of the village rs, “Abide with us, for it is toward even ing.” Tom plat ion. The request e f the* (< xt is au appro- jiriate exclamation feir all theisewho arc *ppre»aehcd in the gloe.my hour e>f (euiptation. There is nothing easier Shan te» be gesiel iiaturesl when e very' ithing plcase'N, or to b« humble* whe*n ithe're* is neithing to e pposo us, orforgiv ving whe n we have not been assailcel, e>r Oimicst when we have no inducement to fraud. But yem have felt the* grapple* e f .wane temptation. Your natuie at sonic lime qnake d anel groaned under the* in fernal fem-e*. Yem felt that the elrvil was afte r yem. Y< a saw yemr Christian gmevs re tn-ating. You feared that yem wemld fall in the awful wre-stle* with sin ami Is* thrown intei the* dust. The glestm thickene*d. The Hr-:t ineiicatiems of th<* night we re see n in all the tre-in- Iding e>f your soul, in all the; infernal fuggcstions of iSutaii, in all the surging tip e>f tumultuous passieuis anel excite- ments. You felt with awful emphasis that it was toward e vening. In tiic tempt* d li**ur you nes d to ask Je sus to ubielc with yem. Yem e*au I« at bae k tin* in*iiiste r that wemld el* v* ur ye n. Ye n e an unlior.'** the sin that would rideyem down. You e*iiii sliar] * u the batth ax with which you split tho licael of h* I- jm-n *1 utsnnimtiem. Who hdis'il I’aul shake the braze u gaU’d heart e.f Felix? Wheiurtt el like a gooel sailor when all IhoiTcw huwlesl in the Mislit* rraiK*i.n fhipwm'k? Who hell .1 the nuirtyis to ba firm when ono worel of recantation would have unfasteme'd the withes of the stake and put out the kindling Arc? When thenigntof the semi camoon and all the demizeusof darkness came* riding npon the winds of perdition, who gave strength to the soul? Who gave* culm- neci to the he*art? Who broke the spe'll of infernal one*hantment? He who heard fh** rcque'St of the villagers, “Abide with us, for it is toward evening.” One of the* forts of France was at tacked, and tho outworks were taken be fore* nigbt. The* besieging army lay de*wn, thinking there was but little to do in the morning, and that tho seil dioi y in the fort con lei bo easily uiauc to surrender. But during the* night, through a back stairs, they escaped into tho country. In lhe> morning tho be sieging army sprang upon tho battle ments, but found that their prey was gone*. So, when we are* assaulted in temptation, there is always some se*cret stair by which we might get eiff. (Jed will neit allow us to Is* tempted above what we are able, but with e*ve*ry temp tation will bring a way f*f escape that we may be able* te» bear it. Anticipating Sorrow. The* prayer of the text is appropriate for all who an* anticipating sorrow. The greatest folly that ever gre w on this planet h> th<» temdoiicy to l orreiw trouble*, but there arc times when ap proaching seureiw is se> e valent that we ■iced to Is* making sjtcciul pre paration for its cnniiug. On** e*f your children has lately be come a favorite. The* * iy*«-f that child stril cs deeper into the heart than the* cry of all the* eithers. You think irorei about it. Yem give* it naire* attention, neit Ikchusc it is any more e»f a treasure than the others, but lieenuse it is bc- coming frail. The*rcisson ething in the cheek, in the eye* and in the walk that make s you ejuite* sure that the* leave s < f , may the flower are going te» be scattiTcel. The utmost nursing anel medical at tendance arc iue*ffcotual. The pulse be comes fe'cble, the complexion lighter, the* ste*p weaker, the laugh fuiuteu*. N*i more rennping feir that erne through hall ami parlor. 1 he nursery is elnrkt n*d by an approaching calamity. The he*art feeds with menirufnl autieipntion that the* snn is geiing down. Night speeds on. It is towarel evening. Ye*u have lemg rejoiced in the care of a mother. Yem have elono ever;'!lung tei make her lest days happy. You have* run with quick f**et to wait upe>u he*r every want Her presence has I es n a pe*rpctual blessing in the hemschold. But the* fruit gathere rs are lexiking wist fully at that tree. llt*r soul is ripe for h<*aven. The gate s arc ready te» flash open feir her entrance. But your semi sinks at the themght cf a se paration. Yon cannot boar to think that se*e>n yon will he called to take the last look at that face which from the first hour has leMikeel npon yon with alltetieiit nn- changeable. But you se e* that life is e bb- iug and the grave will soon liiele* her from yemr sight. You sit quiet. Y’em feed heavy lie*arte*el. The light is fading from the sky. The air is chill. It is te>- warel evening. Yem had a considerable estate* and f; It inelcpendent. In five minutes e,n cue fair balane*e sheet yem conhl se e* just heiw yem stexiel in tho weirld. But tliere canio ceimplicationa. Something that yem imagiticel impossible* happened. The best friend you had proved traitor to your interest. A sudelon crash of nation al misfortunes prostrated your end it. You may teslaybe* geiing on in Lusin* t-s, but you fi*e*l anxious about where yem arc standing anel fear that the* next turning of the wheel will bring yem preistrato. You foresee w hat you e on- sidcr certain defalcation. Yem think of the anguish of telling yemr frie uels you are* not worth a dollar. Yem kneiw neit how yem will ove*r bring yemr childre n home from school. Yem wonder how yem will stanel the selling eif yemr libra ry e*r the* moving into a plainer house. | The misfoi'tuiHUof life* have accumulat- | eel. You wouelcr what mak**s the sky >* dark. It is towarel evening, Hweeteolng the Cup, Tremble is an npothe-erry that inixce | a great many drafts bitt**r and Mine ' and nauseous, anel yon must drink semi* | ono of theni. Trouble puts i*p a great ! many jiiu ks, pnel you must cany remi* one* eif themi. There is no sandal so thi<*k ami well adjusted hrt sonic thorn will strike through it. Th<*rei is no sound so sweet but th<* undertakeT’s srrewdnve'i grates through it. In ibis swift shuttle* of tho human he art some of the* thread** must break. The journey from Je rusa lem to Kmmuns will sesm be* ended. Our Bible, our common sense, our e>b- se rvation, reiterate in tones that w**e an* not mistake and emght not to disregard. It is toward evening. Oh, then, feir Jesus to abiele with t:s! He sweetens the cup. lie* extr.«*is the* theirn.' II** wijK-s the tear. Ilet hushes tho te*mpe*st. lie* sootla s tin* wml that flies to him for she-lter. I^*t th*.* niubt swesip and the* e*urecdydon cro*.*e tie* re*a. L* t the* thnueh-rs roar. Sexui all will l>*< w**ll. Christ in tho ship to soothe liis fiie-nels. Christ on the sea to ste p its tu mult. Christ in the* grave toseutter the elarkne-Ks. Christ in the heavens to h-ael the way. Blessed all su h. His arms will inclose them, his grace cennfeirt them, his light c*he*e*r tliein, his Hae riticc free* the*in, his glory enchant tht>m. If rartlily e stat** takes wings, he will lx* au incorruptible treasure. If friends die, he will be* their resurrection. .Standing with us in the morning of our jeiy anel in the* noonday of our prosperity, he* will not forsake* ns wlic*n the* luster has faded and it is towarel eve ning. Listen to Haul's buttle*shout with misfortune. Hark to mounting Lati mer's fire* semg. Lexik at tin* glory that has reft tin duiigcem and filled the emth uinl heavens with the crash eif tin* fall iug imuiae li-s of despotism. Ainl fin u 1*4.W at tlnisei who huvei fried to ci.ro tin neelv * bj' human pre scrip-tie us, at- te iuptiug to In iil gaugre tie wilh a pal* h of cemrt plaster and te> sl*»p the jilague* eif dying empire's with tin* quacke-ry e.f earthly wisdom. Nothing can Misak peaeaito the* soul, nothing e*aii unstrap our crushing hurelcna, iiothiiigcaii ove r- como our spiritual fexs, nothing can open our ey-'s to see* the* summudiug he>rse*.s and ediariots of salvation, that fill all ther mountains, but tho voice and command of him who stoppe d ouo night at Emmamt. The words of the text are pertinent to us all, from the fact that we are nearing the evening of d**nth. I have heard it saiii that we ought to live as though each moment were to bo cur last. 1 do not believe that thesirr. As far us preparation is concerned, wo ought always to be ready; but wo can not always lx* thinking r*f death, for wo have duties in life that demand our at tention. When a man isse lling g<xxls, it is his business to think of the bargain ho is making. When a man is pleading in tin* courts, it is his duty to think * f th** interests of his clients. When a cle-rk is adding up his accounts, it is his duty to keep his mind upon the column of figures. He who fills up his life with thoughts of death is far from lieing tho highest style of Christian. I knew a man who ur.<*d to oft**n say at night, “I wish I inigh die before morning!” He became au infide l. From Tinif* to Etrrnltjr. But there are times when wo can and ought to give ourselves to the contem plation of that solemn moment when to tho soul time ends and eternity be gins. Wc must go through that one pass. There is no roundabout way, no bypath, no circuitous route. Die we must; and it will Is* to us a shameful occurri*ne*o or a time* of admirable behavior. Our frienels may stretch out the*ir hands to keep us back, but no impleirntion on their part can hinder us. They might offer large retainers, but death would not take the* fee. The breath will fail, and the eye's will close, anel the h< ait will stop. You may hang the couch with gorgeous tajM-stry, but what etoes death care for beautiful curtains? Y’eiu hang the room with the finest works of art, hut what dors death care for pictures? You may fill the house with tho wailings of widowhood and orphanage; floe*s death mind weeping? This eagb.t not to be a depressing theme. Who wants to live here forever? The world has always treated me* well, and every day I feel less r.nd less like* scolding and complaining. But ye t I would not want tei make this my eternal residence. I love to watch the* clouds and bathe my soul in the blue sou of heaven, but I expect when the* firma ment is rolled away as a scroll to see a new heave*n, grander, higher and more glorious. You ought to be willing to exchange* your body that has headaches and sideae hes and weaknesses innumer able, that limps with the stone bin ire or festers with the thorn eir flames on the funeral pyre of fevers for nn incorrupt ible boely anel an e ye that blinks not be fore the jasper gates and the* great white throne. But lx*twe*eu that anel this there is an hour about which no man should be reckless or foolhardy. I doubt net your courage, but I toll you that you will want something |x*tter than a strong r.nu, a good aim and a trusty swerd when you come* to your last battle. You will need a better roU* than any you have in your wardrobe to keep you w arm in that place. Tlie.* (Intlicrlrg Nicht. Circumstances do not make so mnch diffe renci*. It may be a bright day when you push off from the planet, or it may lie* a dark night and while the owl is hooting from the* fe n sf. It may btt spring, anel your soul may .qo out among I he blossoms, apple orcharels swinging their censers in the way. It may bo wint* r and the earth in a snow shroud. Ir may lx* autumn and the forests set on fire by tho retreating year—dead na ture laid out in state. It may Ik* with your wife’s hand in your hand, er you make lx* in a strange hotel with a serv ant faithful to the last. It may be in the rail train, shot off tho switch and tumbling in long reverberation down the embankment—crash, crash! I know not the time, I know not the mode, but ill** days of our life urclieing subtracted away and w*- shall come down to (hi* time when we have but ten days left, then nine days, then eight days, then seven days, six days, five days, four days, three days, two days, one day. Then hours—three hours, two hours, one hour. Then only minutes left—five minutes four minutes, three minutes, two minubs, one minute. Then only seconds I* ft—four seconds, three kcc- puds, two Mconds, one second, (/one! The chapter of life ciulceh The b*xik closed. The pulses at rest. The feet through with the journey. The hands closed from all work. No word on the lips. No breath in the nostrils, ilair comtied back to lie undisht veled by any human hands. The muscles still. The nerves still. The lungs still. The tongue still. All still. You might put the steth oscope to the breast and hear no sound. You might put a speaking trumpet to 10 evening hour to tho exhausted workman. The sky will take on Its sunset glow, every cloud a fire psnltn, every lake » glassy mirror, th<* forests transfigured, delicate mists climbing the air. Your friends will nnimnueo it; your pulses will lx*ut it; tour joys will ring it; your lips will whiiprr it, “Toward evening!” England's! ME'iROpTiLia, Lnr.ilnn as It Was In Mm I'arllritt Haj« n f It* Existence, We flixt hear of London in any im portant sens** as a city of Roman Brit ain. The incoming cf tho Saxon con querors is followed by nearly 200 yours of unbroken silence, and it is ibis long period which has caused some historians to assume, rather than prove, that Ro man London had altogether ceased to exist. But when the light of history is again shed uixm this part of the newly made England there is much to show that London had, to a large extent, pre served her independence as a place of commerce and civic organization. The Saxon settlements appear all round her, and perhaps tko little village of Char ing, within a mile of her walls, affords the most significant testimony to tho Saxnn settlements round London rather than in London. The Saxon e* uquerors appear as polit ical masters of London and introduced into her municipal life, tho folkmoot, which originally met in tho open air on a p ^co of land near Panl’s Cross and which is perhaps represented by tho Common hall of the citizens of London of the present day; many Teutonic cus toms which lie imbedded in th** munic ipal usages of mcdiu'val times, many Democratic innovations in municipal institutions which ajpear throughout (ho early years cf rinntngcnct rule, when tho “common people” over and over again asserted their right to take part in tho municipal elections and transactions of the day. But Loth the settlements round Loudon and tho ixi- litical lordship over Loudon do not ap pear to have made London a Saxon oily and its municipal instituticus rf Saxea origin. The lex merentoria of Roman London seems nevir to have quite died out. In tlie court of the merchants there were always prefessienal lawyers, and perhaps the most, remarkable survival of Roman institutions in Britain is the practice of the old order of sergeants at law, who assembled m the nave of the old tit. Paul’s cathedral, each seigeaut having L< cn allotted a ipecinl pillar in the cathedral at his appointment, where la* met his * lients in legal consultation, hearing th** facts of tin* case, taking notes cf the evidence or pacing up and down. This is tho exact parallel to the assembling of the Roman jurisjvriti at early morn in tho forum to consult w ith their clients and cnuue.t be explained <xcept by the theory of direct continu ance cf practice from Roman times.— l'( utemporary Review. THE ISLE OF TERROR. SUCH IS USHANT, WHERE THE DRUM MOND CASTLE WENT DOWN. the ear, lint yon could not wah** t! deafness. No motion, no throb, no life. Pull, still! t : <> d* alh * omen t*i tbc disciple! What if the •■tin of lift! is about to wt? Jesus is th** day spring from on high, tho jm r- ]x*tnal morning of evt ry ransomcil spirit. What if the darkness comes? Jesus ii the light of th<* world and of heaven. What though this earthly house das crumble? Jesus has prepared a house of many mansions. Jesus is the anchor that always holds. Jesus is the light that is never eclipivd. Jesns is the fountain that is in ver exhausted. Jesus is tin evening star, hung up amid the gloom of the gathering night. Y’ou are almost through with tho abuse and backbiting of enemies. Tin y will call you no more by evil names. Your good deeds will no longer lx* mis* Interpreted nor your honor filched. The troubles of earth will end in tin* felici ties. Toward evening! The bereave- liifiils * f earth will h>< u l><* lift* d. You will not much longer stand pouiing your pri* f in the tomb. JiL * K.tchtJ weeping for In r <Tiil*li* u cr David mourning for Absalom. Broken In-urlil Ixininl up. Wounds)ieul**d. TcurNwijxd away. Sorrow s terminat 'd. No more sounding of tin* dead march Toward evening! Death will come, sweet as llumlx-r to the eyelids of the babe, a» lull rations to a starving soldier, as NOT A DIRECTORY. Why th* I!nrU workhiK la tter Carrier lixie.v U:s Tcui|>er (.‘craaionally. I stepped a 1* tt* r < airier in Thirty- sixth street the ether morning and in quin d the r.nmlir of the hc.use on tho otlnr Hide of the Direct at which a ]x*r- soual friend of mine lived, giving tin* name and «x*cupation of tho gentleman about w hom tin* inquiry w as made. I knew he lived across tho way, in one of a certain block, bnt had forgotten tin* particular numlxf, and I knew the car rier would know by the mail delivered. “Don’t y* u know, sir,” raid the car rier, who knew me, by the way, “that you ask for that which it-is contrary to the rules **f th* pest office department to give?” "No, f don’t,” I llushingly admit- ti ck “Well, it’s true,” lie said. "The law recognizes the right of a citizen to a private residence, undisturbed, as long as he 1ms committed no offense- that re quires such privacy to bo invaded. Now' if I should give your number and street to anybody who might happen to w an them, tho thing might cause you some annoyance. ” “\>hy, anylx dy could find that out through the directory.” “'liny m.giit, ai d tluyniif hf not. Anyhow the post office i« not a direct ory. ” “And didn’t you know," he added as a parting shot ca ho went away, “that you violate tho law by stopping a jxist- juait i:i this way while ho is delivering his mail?” No, I didn’t, and for that reason these paragraphs.—N» w York Herald. CroccrU-e In Brooklyn. Nowhere are the grocery stores thick er than in Brooklyn. On many cf the main arteries of (raffle one will find cor ner after comer (x eupied by a grocery store, with often one or two grocers m tho middle of (he same block. And they all seem to thrive. New York city toasts a more luxurious class of people than the average Bnxiklyn grocer sup plies, but the standard of living on tho av* rag** is higher in the L’ityof Church es than elsewhere, and the grocers sell u lx tt* r average quality < f gixxls there. Originality m not u common virtue in Bnxiklyn gr<cerdom, however, nor ii it frequently met with anywhere else, for that matter, but in the City of Church es (a more appropriate name would Isi the City of (Juicers) one is led to look for greater variety of store decoration and display of gixxls and in mctluxls of doing business from tin* simple fact that most of tin* establishments an* so neat and ch an and the gcxxls mi attract ive and wed dixpluyuL — New York Merchants’ Review. TSio ('on.liir; Agr, “Wlmt a t v.<«t Laly you have, Mm Wit* eh r! Do*sd talk ut all yd?” “Yes, it can say ‘inumma’ txauti- fully. \7i an* going to pot it on a lii* y- t'|c next, week. ” “Ilow lib el I)m*m it walk ut all?” “Oh, dear, no! Why, it’s only 7 months! Not for half a your yet!" Imbed, to ono aeeustoioed to chil dren, th** qui Mtimi s* *ni<*l uLsuhL-— London Tit-Bits. Thongli Mis I'lnr* Bn* a Bad Xamr, th* Prepte Ara Ilnnrxt and (Irnrrou* Noted Kvrntn of W'l.irli Itiplory Treat* Bav* nrd In It* V icinity. Uslinnt, the island upon whose out lying ri«fx the steamer Drummond Cas tle ran, ninkirg thm* minutes aft**r- wai.l and carrying down every soul on Ixiard. except three, lies off tin* north west extremity of France and forms the corner around which vessels from the south turn into the English channel after crossing the bay of Biscay. “Ushnut" is the Anglicized form of! "Ouesrant,” the French name. Pliny calls tho island “Uxantis, ” and the Britons know it as “Bnrz IIcuN<a,” Which means “The Mo of Terror. ” It well deserves tho Celtic name. Tho inhabitants of Ushunt are a hardy raco, tho mon all flshenuru and seamen, tho women all tillers of tho rooky soil. Tho latter on high days and holidays still often display their ancient costume, with its flat coif, which strikingly re calls the feminine headgear of southern Italy, and whence their dark hair streams in freedom below their waists Within the l:*Kt quarter of a eentnry a breed * f ponies still roamed in semi- wildness over a large part« f the island, and for centuries the inhabitants them selves were l*x;kcd upon as savages. De barred, often for long weeks at a time, from any intercourse with the main land, they certainly led very primitive lives. Bnt at the Fame time they pre served the primitive virtues, and hon esty and hospitality have ever been ar ticles of faith among them. Losing year by year, with unfailing regularity, a score or two cf their own kith and kindred in the treacherous waters around their isle, their sympa thies have always Men with those whom shipwreck has imperiled. Several of the Breton islands have notoriously harbored communities ef wreck* rs, but the p*oplc(f Uihant have again and again distinguished themselves by their efforts to save distressed vessels or their crews. Whenever one of the islanders i« lost at sea, a touching ceremony, called “the proclla” is performed. The relative s ami friends of the dec* used carry to his house a small wooden cross, over which the clergy repeat the prayers f* v tho dead, as if this symlxil were the corpse itself. Then tho cross bearer, who, whenever practicable, is the godfather of the defunct (this again a touching instance of symbolism), inch's* .• it in a coffer, and, followed by all the mourn ers, deposits it at the foot of a statue of Kt. Pr 1 Aurclien, the patron of th** isle. A few years ago a hundred rrsoof these coffers could lx* s**eu assembled around the statue. Ushant is known to jiistory. As early qs 13K8 uq English expeditipu landed oq the island r.nd rayrged it with fin,' and sword. Then, in 1778, its waters witnessed the much criticised naval en gagement In i ween Kcpp* l and d’Ot: yilliers, which English histories usually describe as a drawn battle, whereas tho French invariably claim it as a decisive victory. Finally, 1 (1 years later, Ushant nr*w tko “glorious first of June,” when Lord Ilr.v.o *frtainly shattered (ho French ihips if war commanded by ViUr.rct-Joycuse, but at tho same tiuin signally failed to prevent the large fled of French merchant men, on whose ar rival France depended for means repros ecute the war, from getting safely into the port * f Crest, That Ushant is. in Breton estimation, predestined to deeds of bhxxl mid death is shown by a strange rhymed proverb, which Chateaubriand quotes in his “Memoirs From Beyond the Grave,” ami whbh may be Englished thus: “Ho who sees Belle Isle doth boo his isle; He vv ho M** th ( rri doth see his joy, Lnt gave on Ushant’s flood, you see your blood. ” Of the wild scenery around Ushant there ha v probably never lien any lx*t- tcr dcimriptioii than that given by Chateaubriand. The island is the lar gest and from tho nutinlaud the most distant, of those forming tho archipelago to which it gives its name. Molcur, tho next in size, trades largely in its own soil, which on account of certain chem ical prop* rtii-s is bought after by Breton agriculturists. Then, in addition to scores of little islets, some of them mere *iti and rocks, there is (Jucmouox, which is about a quarter the size of Ushant, while near to the mainland is Rriiiqu* t, or tin* Blessed Jslo. so called on account of its proximity to the Bre ton shore and the refuge it offers amid tlie most dangerous of all the adjacent re* fs, that of Lcs Pierres Noirea. Many u stout ship and many a frail fishing bout have bt-t-n shuttered among tlicse reefs, where the watersi*ver seethe and roar, even on calm summer days. But winter is the time to b*s* Ushant and its neighboring isles, all bare and nigged, rising from aniid the gale lashed waves. Koroek bound roast can offer a more impressive spectacle than that which the ocean then presents us it leaps in its dread, blind might nrennd The Isle of Terror. ”—Westminster Ga zette. Want* It 1 hi* Tima. “Hand over and bo quick about it,” said th<* “hold up" as In* put a revolver to the head of the belatixl man. “But you held me up last week and didn’t get anytbiug,” reiu«>iiKtrut»*d the victim. “Well, hand over what I didn’t get thru!”—Detroit Free Press. The fi ((lit silver pi*cc familiar to our fath* r*i was authorized by congress April 2, 1798, and its coinage was bo- guii tin* same year. Its ooiuago was dis coid iuued Fob. 12, 1873. To hear always, to think always, tq hum always, it is thus that we live truly. He wIki aspires to nothing and hums iiolhing is not worthy of living. —A Helps. Pure Blood n»ans sound health. With pure, rich, heal;by blood, the stoinacli and di gestive organs will be \ igorons, and there will lie no dyspejisia. Rheumatism smi Neuralgia will be unknown. tJcrofula and B'ilt Rheum will disappear. With pure Blood Your nerves will lie strong, nnd your sleep sound, sweet and refreshing. Hood’s Sarsaparilla makes pure blood. TLut is why H cures so many diseases. Tlmt h why :*o many thousand.* lake it to ctno disease, retain good hcHllli end promt sickness and suffering. Remember Hood’s Sarsaparilla Is t lie One True Wood I’urifb'r. ? t; six for fa. I Hood’s Pills S.,;! cun* J.ivrr Ills; easy to •asy to(;jx*ratr. i'x:. A. N. WOOD, BANKER, docs a g**!)* nil Banking mid Ex* luti'^e liusinnss. Well secured with Burglar- l‘ro*i? safe nnd Automatic Tim* Lin k. •Saf* ty Deposit Boxes ul moderate rent. Bins and sells Stocks and Bonds. Buys County and School Claims. Your business solicited. IJ. Monumental Works. (inmite Mominicnts a specialty’. Agent for IRON FKXCES. No. 235, W. Trade Sr., C)i;ir!ottc, N. T. L. ELLIOT, 1 SOUTHERN RAILWAY. -J*' nr.DMO.xr aiu i-txn. Condensed Reliednte of l‘(i«*<<iigi*r Train**- Northbound. Juno 14, 1800. Lv. Atlanta, C. T. A * Untn E T. NiHvroaa .. Buford.. Oalnexvllh*.. Lula Cornelia. ... Mt. Atry To<v*<»a Westmluate? HeiKH-a Central Ctreonrtlla. Spartanburg. Gaffney*. Bln-'kxbnrg King's Mt Gamonln. , **harlotto .. DnnriHo ;... x„. r.x N ‘»* 30 Hally. Dally. 111» m H }? t> 1 iw p I f 15 n * U 5# i* . (No.U N'o-1‘1 B*. I’uily Sun. Ar. Rh-hmond 3 » j> 8 17 i> 11 .VI ii H 4H n Ii2*l ,, 4 IS p‘ t 05 .*» ]>41 p 4 45 p f 88 i* 1 20 p 5 iXt p 5 S> a 2 10 |- 0 18 p| 0 IS a H « p « ->l r. 4 It p T 08 p T OS a 4 :*l p 7 *t n. 500 p * 53 r. Ii > p 1 s 20 p S 83 a *1? ) p If 00 a t 30 p tl >5 p (1 00 a *! 41 p 9 00 a Ar.Washington 0 42 a *• 40 p “ Ba’tmVPRR. S or, a I*, j. “ Philadelphia. 10 25 a 1 *» a , Now York _ 12 SI m 9 J) a j Vr«. K»t. >« I goiilhbouud. X«>. 37 No. S3 Pn'ly. Dntlv. Lv. N. Y..P.B.R. 4 :« p 12 15 “ Philadelphia « « J* 3 50 ** Balilmora. SI 20 p *122 ** Washington.. 10 43 p 11 1ft Lv. Klchniond Lv. Dnnvilla ... “ *'harlot *• “ Gastonia “ KinK * Mt “ Ihn-'kshurg <4affii«*y* 2 00 a 12 55 p 2 00 a 5 50 a 0 oft p 0 4(1 a li 35 a lo 55 p 12 HO p 11 30 pi 1 10 p I 1» p 10 43 a 12 03 a 2i(> p| tl2 24 a 2^0 p! “ Hiwirlaiilnirg. 11 37 a 1 do a! a oft j* •' Gns*nsrill«.. 12 2S p 1 hi a 4 4 ) j* •* < 'en 11 al 1 15 p 2 aft u 5 40 p “ Heneea .... 1 145 p 2 r-S a 9(*1 p " Westminster | n zl p Tf^coft 2 IS p 3 V) a *t 58 11 •• Mt. Airy ... I 7 40 p ft t “ Conn-lia — 4 21 a 7 45 p «! " Lula 3 18 p 4 :t3 a S 12 p «: •• Gainesville :< 81 p 4 57 a s :t*t i> 4 Ii 74 “ Buford i t» 07 p *' No re roes . . . «4;i p Ml Ar. Atlanta, K. T. 4 V, p 8 20 a 10 3d p »: Lv. Atlanta, C.T. a .v, i* 5 2) a It 30 p 83 “A” a. m. *M” noon. "N" nigh “P” p. in. N<x«. 37 and 88—Wnahlugton and Months •m Ve**lbul« Liniited. Thr-.iigh Pull* ale<‘iM*r* tie tween Nttw York and Nrw Orlei. via Waahtngton, AlUntnand Moiitg>>nier]r,ii also lM*tw*x*n New York amt Metuphia, Washington, Atlanta and Hirnilngham. T train also ■■•rrt*** Hlehmond Auguxia «h*ci>l cars Uttwa.*** 1 >unvilla and Charlotte. V« cl*xx thoroughfare coach ta.*twis«n Waaliingtou and Atluutu. Dining oarx aervu all intralx < a rixitu. N-«*. :t5 and 8|—ITnltad KtateaFaHt Mall, ninu *l*s*plng <Ar* Ixilweeu New Yo.k, A ojnl New Origans Nos. II und 13—Pullman sUs^iIngrarvlx-two Rl-'hiie>ud and Danville. Tho Air I,hi** Bell*' train, Nos. 17 ami p* from June 1st to Ortidx-r Ut. HUI, U oiH-'ratH let ween Atlanta amf Mt. Airy, (in., djuly <•; <-npt Stuwlay. W. H. UUKICN, J. M QUIA <Wl »upt., Tram. mV Waalilngtim, D. 0. Waxhlngt«j W A TCRK. 8. H IIAKHWU 4 Gen I Pnx^^g't . Aiw'tOeii'l |* a An. D. O.