The ledger. [volume] (Gaffney City, S.C.) 1896-1907, August 06, 1896, Image 6
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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.