University of South Carolina Libraries
i S THE LEDGER: GAFFNEY, S. C., 8EPTEMRER 3, 1890. “THEM GOLDEN DAYS.” Tho Sago of Rooky Crook Look ing Backwards. Ben Chris Wearer Coined Up from tho' OKI Settlement — “I.ong Luther ; and tho Widclcr”—liuclc Mil- j Ugan’s Race. “How would it suit, you, Hufe, for us to make a cross mark and spit in it this mornin and turn round and mM I. s'* ^ that pleasant skirt this side of P.igWolf creek, as I started up here to see you— was to find Long Luther Ridgeway hunkered down their on the very same spot of earth and under the same old oak tree where me ami you found him, wounded in the big toe and weepin great drops of grief 30 years ago this summer.” * COOK QUITS BILL ARP. Philosopher Gives a Dissertation on tho Ways of Cooks. What the Family I* Doing — William lias to Hustle Up Karly in the Morning and Make tho Kitchen Fire. go back and take a fresh start and be a pair of har- um-scurem boys onct more?” says he. “It would suit me perfectly a 11 right and tx> a nat’s h r i s tl e, " Hen Chris,” says j. And*with that me and Hen Chris Weaver—the playmate of my childhood pnd boyhood, friend of my manhood pnd side partner in a thousand trials hiul troubles and temptations—wet-ben went on to talk about them good old times that use to lie in opr young and gallin days. m “Long Lather and the Wldder.” The crops was then laid by and It V.as right in between fodder pullin find cotton pickin time, you understand, find Hen Chris he had come up from the pid Panther Creek settlement on n short visitation for a few days with me, as he is wont to do about onct a year. ♦•Nit is jest naturally marvelsomc to pie, Kufe, how many strange find pe- f iirious t hings come to pass on the earth pnd amongst men,” Hen Chris >vent on tp say. “On my way from the old sot- ilement up here the other day, when I strfick the pleasant skirt of woods out pn the ridge this side of Hlg Wolf creek, who do you reckon I met up with? No body but Luther Ridgeway — Long Luther, as we boys use to call him. And the most strangest thing about it, Rufe—when I druv up Luther was hunkered down on th« same spot of earth and under the same big oak tree where me and you found him and had a fight with him one Sunday mornin 30 years ago this summer.” And then Ben Chris he went cn to tell the story, which It was old ns his tory with mo and him, but it may be pew to you. “Naturally, of eourse, Rufe, you are fiour,d to recollect that famous Sunday piorain and the furious twistifieation we had with Long Luther Ridgeway. Wo was both then right smart chunkp pf boys and gallin around ponsiderahlo fit the picnics and protracted pieetins and on Sundays. If I remember right we had started olT that very Sunday mornin down to old Pilgrim's Rest church, w here a three days’ moctin was then goin on in session, whilst Luther he had started over the creek to see tho. Widder Hollis. Now you will recollect that Luther was way yonder older than pie and you, Rufe, apd big ns Ixith of us put together, but yet at the same time he was the most awkwanf apd jmsh ful youngster I ever saw. There was about 1"> inches of his fogs liept down for feet, and then he stood 'x feet seven Inches in his socks. So .r as 1 know, Rufe, the good Jxird neverdid make what you* mought call n pretty man, and when lie made Ixmg Luther Ridgeway lie. must of done Ills level best in the other direct ion. Consequent ly up to that time Luther never had been out amongst the calico and the ribbons any to speak of. Rut somehow or somehow else had got up a right had case of goneness on the Widder Hollis, and it was the private opinion of every body in the settlement that the widder was willin to meet him half way with her double-breasted eompfiments. ‘ “Well, at any rates Luther had starfod over the creek to see the widder, and weather was so furious hot that flay till he had shed his shoes and was bitln off the distance at about six feet witty every lick, and barefooted f»s he ever was when he come into the world. And if you recollect, Rufe, when we pid oqt pn the ridge that mornin we found hipi hunkered down them under that big pak tree monnin and gronnin like his fieart would break, lie had stumped the big toe of his left foot and tore the pail off on a root of that oak tree. To us it was. a. trepiendius funny sight—-to see I^uig Luther hunkered down there fioldin his wounded toe w ith both hands and cry In and blubbcrln like a little boy, lookln off now and then down the road towards the wldder’s house and sigh in and Bobbin like his heart would bust wide open. When I look hack now and think about it serious, Rufe, I can see where we done wrong, but we was nothin but healthy fmman boys then. “And that’s how come we put in, we did, and laughed at Luther’s troubles, und poked fun at him, and bedeviled him about the widder till he got foam in mad and lining on a fight, wherein nil of us was monstrous busy for a few ininnits, but nolmdy bad hurt. “You see, time ‘s a mighty fortune teller, Rufe. In spite of his sore toe and ull of his great trials and tribulations, Long Luther brushed the dirt off of his Sunday clothes, took his shoes Jit his hands and went right on down tho road to see t lie w aider. One 11me subsequent ly to that he told me of how the widder tied up his sore toe In s|M-rltA—turjicn- tinc and brown sugar, and he tarried over there w ith her all day. In the gen eral run of time and pursuant to nd- joiirnme, ‘ they closed the trade pnd went and got married. Henceforwords after that, from all I can hearthey have walked upright and faithful in the tep commandments and replenished the earth aeeordln. They are llvln right there at the old llullis place, jest across the creek, w ith three Itoynaiid two girls grown and married, and how many more at home I couldn't sny for cer tain. “Hut to me the most strangest thing of It all, Rufe—when I drlv out into A Karo for Life anil Death. “And don’t you renumber the time, Rufe, when Ruck Milligan thought the tie rein of Iris bridle was a snake, and for a little mom would have run his fool self to death?” Of course I remembered that time as fresh and clear as if it had only conic to pass on yesterday, but Hen Chris he went on to tell me all about it. “You see Ruck he was the onlycst baby of the Milligan family, though at that time he w*us n great lubberly buy, plenty big enough to put away tin* things of a child and take up the things of a man. Late one evenin the old man had sent Ruck down to the paster with his horse, and it was first dusk when I he got there and turned the horse in j and started home. “In the main time, you understand, i Rufe, me and you or some of the nig gers had been tcllin Ruck some out landish and hair-raisin stories in re- . gards to snakes, and if there was any thing in this round created world which that boy jest naturally couldn’t stand the naked thoughts of, was snakes. Ho he turned the, horse in the paster, fiung the bridle across his shoulder and started In a swlngin trot for the big house, which it w us a mile, or may be u little better, that he had to go. “Now it hen presently Ruck he looked back und thought he saw a thunderln big snake runnin after him and right at his heels. It was now about night —the moon was comill out, and his first thought was that a eoachwhip or one of these big black runners was right in behind him. Well, man, sir, from what Ruck has since told me, if ever a white boy sifted sand and burnt the wind in a foot race with n harmless piece of cow leather, he was that boy. “Rut to hear him tell it. Ruck couldn’t run away from the blame thing worth n cent. Kvery time he turned his head and throw ed his eyes back’, there wa»; the snake scorch in the very earth un der his heels. He run like a quarter horse somewhat further than a mile, which by then he was a slap out of breath and had to give up the race. In the liorrors of that orful moment he drawpd his pocket knife, jumped up on a stump and turned to make, a fight for life, when lo and behold, he didn’t see a blame thing but the Herein of his liri<!l\ which he ha 1 been drag- gin' behind him and runiiin from It, as ho thought, in n race for life and death. “If that had been me or you, Rufe. the rah* fncts in the ease never would of leaked out to th> general public. Rut In so fur as I know Ruck Milligan never did eat any soup with Solomon to.*] ealc of, and consequentially he didn't Lave pO better sense 1 ban to let tho oatt Ut the wallet, w hilst the joke was too good for us bo vs to keep.” He Wouldn't !So u (loaio. “Now the way in which Ru'*k Milligan give the in w s away oonoernm his ter rible. fool Mi* '- with the ti ■ rein of his bridle always did nut me in mind of Dink Ashcraft and th.e story he use to tell of how he. got into a tremendius bad eonfusionuient with Miss Rosebud Ruchalew one: t np.;n a time.” And Ren Chris had to stop and let his laughin spell pass off before ho could proceed with the proceed ins. “In flicju days I ink was in the awk ward and goslin stag** of life, Rufe, w hich 1 reckon ygu und< rstand what I mean by that. You can recollect no doubts when you didn’t know for cer tain what to do with your feet and hands, and couhlp’t think of anything in particular to say to the girls. You could think of I'huity to say till you got right l»t amongst the calico, and the laces, and the ribbons, and the like of that and then dadblnme it your talkin machinery would run slap down and stop. “Well from the way Dink use to ti ll the story, It would seem like he was levin Miss Rosebud harder than a mule could kick backwards down hill with Ixith feet and he had made his engage ments to go w ith her to night nnetin over at old Kbene/.cr church. Dink d up a w hole long rig- lowed he had fl :i amnrole of sweet and pier •ant thing:*, to tell hi i mainest girl that night lint soon as he got w ith her he forgot every blame thing !e* had thought of in the main time. And from all appenrraeiits It looks like Miss Rosebud was also a timid young thing and couldn't do any off-hand talkin totjeakof. “So they talked ssliout the weather and the crops, and got oil a few short stanzas in regard to the moon and stars, nnd then by gracious they struck a knot and -couldn't move a peg. They went on till by and by the general si lence got plum heavy and painful nnd oppressin. About that t ime they passed a drove of geese gra/.in by moonlight along the road, and it seems as if the night of thetn geese made Dink think of something to s.iy. " ‘Miss Ron •bud,'says Dink,‘wouldn't you hate to lie n goose?* “'Well, I don’t know so much alKitit that, Mister Ashcraft,’ rays Miss Rose bud. ‘The goose is both useful und ornniueiitnl. When killed find cooked It Is good for foo<I, and when picked its feathers make iiic", inft bi ds and pil lows. If I Uul to be a fowl I would ns soon be a goose as unythingelse.' “‘Well, I would* hate to be n goose, Miss Rosebud- I would mortally hate to be n goose,' soys Dink. “ ‘Why would you hate to be a gOOM so mI bud, Mr. Ashcroft?* rays Miss Rosebud. “‘Oh, my,’ soy* D'nk, 'Jest because I would have to lay such n big egg.' “And then from the way Dink was wont to tell It, two long nnd weary hours passed away before him and Miss Rosebud could think of any other and further remark's to make." nUFl'S BANDER*. Every good thing in thisworld lias its dark side, its shadow, and every shadow is brightened by some compensation— some rift in the clouds that still makes life w6rth living. The cook has quit, mil I thought from the family talk that i the bottom had dropped out, for she was a good cook and kept the kitchen as : clean os a parlor, nnd the knives and the I silverw are always bright and the dishes shining, nnd there was a napkin spread at the head of the table to keep me from soiling the damask when I carved the chicken, or the steak, for I am a little careless about those things. She dident talk much, nor seem to lie in a hurry, and she was kind to the grandchildren and made them little biscuits. She took good care of the cow and kept me in iee- rold buttermilk and made enough but ter to do us when we dident have com pany. Sometimes she brought us some green corn or some butter beans from her ow - n garden, and, take her all in all, she was the best servant we have had since the war. Rut she has one fault. She will quit when she takes a notion — when the spirit moves her—and you never know when it is going to move her. She said she was tired and I reckon she was. She might come, back in a week or two or she might not. So we concluded to i go along without a cook for a few days and sec how it was, and it is not so bad, after all. It nearly kills my wife to get up soon, but I like it. In fact, I can’t lie abed after sunrise, nnd so we par celed out the work to suit us all, Wil liam must fire up the stove nnd put on the hominy and grind the coffee and prepare the ham, or the breakfast bacon, or the beefsteak, and then call one of the girls to make the biscuit nnd fry the battercakes or hake the waffles. Ry the time breakfast is ready my wife Is ready and we all enjoy it, and then her part comes in, for she had rather wash the dishes than dq anything. She wants to be sure that they are clean. And then she churns to he sure that the butter is clean. We cook dinner if we feel like it, and we don’t if we don’t. In fact it is a relief to eat a cold lunch these hot days. It saves work and saves time and expense and makes digestion easy. My opinion is that the average family has too much cooking done, and s*i If we have no cook and have to do the work ourselves, there will he less done and less to surfeit ourselves with, and we w ill have better health and sleep better and snore less nnd feel brighter in the morning. This is the bright side of doing without a cook. Then, again I save twq dollars a week in silver at sixteen tq one, and if u penny saved is two jHqiee gained, ns Dr. Vrunkljn says, then we are ahead at the rate of four dollars a week. That’s a big lot of money now. I pay thatover tomy wife and daughter to keep them reconciled, but I verily lielieve they would be glad to see Mrs. Sieity Mims back here to morrow moruig. They hired a colored neighlior to milk the cow anil some times to kill nnd dress a chicken, nnd so we are getting along splendid while running this independent line. Rut there is no independent line. It Is curious and somew hat humiliating to think how dependent wo an* upon one another. If the Vanderbilts and As ters were w recked at t cn and oaston an island they would perish to death w ith in a week. Dick Wilson wouldent, for he was raised in the woods and would soon grabble, up something. We are dependent on the butcher and the baker and grocer for our daily supplies and they are dependent ujKin the farmers who raised them and on their customers who buy them. Even the salt they sell us is an absolute necessity. Then there is the family doctor. How could we get along without him? It was only a few months ago when 1 had to get up in the night and go half a mile for him in a fox trot, nnd I feared the little girl would die before I got back, hut she dident and he relieved her and relieved our great anxiety, too. There is no such thing as independence in this life, hut it is approximated by those who were raised to work. The Isiys who can chop wood and plow and fix sui ax helve to an ax or repair a leak in the roof or get a tuck out of a sh >c, or takeoff part of the heel tap or mend n chair ora. win dow blind, or lay a hearth or put in a pane of glass, or do .i hundred little things alsiut the hpuso and home, w ill save many a dollar, where others would send for a man and lose it. The. girls who have learned to cut nnd fit and make their ow n garments, and those of their younger sisters, and who can cook a good meal when it Is necessary, nnd hang n picture on the wall, or make a firescreen or a lampshade or a pillow for the sofa, or even put a new coat of jmlnt on the mantel, will make good wives nnd good mothers. You won’t find many of these, boys and girls in high life, nor in what is called society, nnd the danger Is that If misfortune comes in these perilous times and riches take w ings and fly nwny these children of the rich w ill be utterly helpless. The trouble with me now is that l am the only boy about the house and my legs don’t ols-y me with that alac rity they used to. 1 fell Up the steps this morning with an armful of Move wood, but it is better to fall up than down. Tin* cow dident come home Inst night and our little grandchild sold she r< ckoned she was in the woods trying U. find a calf. “Who mid so?" I nsked ".Sicily told me so,” she mid, “nnd I wish she would find one. A pretty little white one or a brown one would do.” Tliut cow has got over the dead lino I'll bet and some farmer bus taken her i:p, and it will cost me a dollar to get her back. Now, if I 1 nd a boy I could •end him after her, but they all deserted um long ago. If wc had life U> live ever again we wouldent mire hoy«. They go too far away. 1 would like a i little grandson to run about nnd wait on me, hut there is none within reach. | Our grandsons are mostly glrb, ami i they are good children nndoomfortus nil they can. I’ve planted some pop corn for them, nnd we will have some fun this winter. I was reading the other da\" about happiness and the w riter said there was no such thing as present happiness, that when we are young it is just ahead of us, and when we are old it is behind us. There is a good deal of melancholy truth in that, but it is not wholly true. It de pends on how a man schools himself to hear the ills of life. Ho can be hap py if he will or he can make himself miserable by brooding over little trou bles. The world is bright nnd beauti ful and full of blessings to those who try to see it so. So let Mrs. Mims stay away if she wants td ami let the old cow keep on hunting for a calf and we will still Ik* txvlni and serene.—BJ11 Arp, n Atlanta Constitution. THESE LATTER DAYS. Dto ABOUT THE "SLOPPER.'' In the (larhRKe Kec«p- 8am Jones Speaks of Changes That Have Takon Place. Camp Meeting:* a* They Wore Fitly Year* Ago—More Dignity atxl Leu* 1'lcty l* the Onler Now-New Orilor Not All Wrong. THE AVERAGE MAN. A man nearly 30 years of age looks hack over the earlier days of his life and then takes a look at present surround ings, and he sees the latter days are not like the former days. Everything iu different. While I write 1 am in the midst of an eight days’ engagement at Asbury Drove camp meeting, near bos ton, Mass. In thought I have neen com paring the old-fashioned camp meeting to the new-fashioned camp meeting. This is a beautiful camp ground; per haps near 2,000 people tented in the cot tages on the grounds, and 20 miles out from Roston, on the Roston & Maine railroad. The congregations attendant ui>on the services have been large; the interest has been good; the people order- ()V j n< i, lfi try on a good west end route. R«He»rrlie* tacle* and HD Find*. That man is a sloppcr,” remarked a r»olico officer to u Washington Star .vriter a few mornings since, “and he Hid his class give us any amount of (rouble. If he stole we could reach; him by law, but as he only finds w e can- jot easily reach him.” In further ex-. Manatkm he said: “A s’.oppor is a man 1 ivho searches through the garbage cans! i ; i the alleys in the rear of hotels, board-' ng houses nnd private houses. Romm «enreh for spoons, knives and forks, that arc thrown into the garbage rccep-j t.icles by careless servants, for it is a fact that there are more silver spoons, and knives and forks thrown away* with the garbage than are stolen by, servants, though the contrary is gen erally believed. The sloppcr is gencr- illy an hour or so abend of the garbage; eolleetor and he is often .more regular: md careful In his rounds than the gar-; aage man. “ 'Ry industry we thrive,’ ns the line; n the copy-lwokH used to contain, and) He Goes Through Life Ea*lly and with Little Frlrtlon. It's a pleasure to fit you,” said the clothing salesman to his customer. "Why?” queried the patron, as he glanced complacently over his shoulder at his figure reflected in the long mir ror. ‘Recause you are an average man. I mean that your height, width of shoul ders, chest measure, length of bock, width across the hips, length of arms and legs and general ‘set’ conform to the average dimensions struck off by the manufacturer of ready-made clothing." “I thought you fellows could fit any sized man.” “So wc can, hut to do H sometimes we must break up three different seta of clothing; take the coat from one, the vest from another and the trousers from another. Now, with you it is differ ent. I simply took your chest measure and found the eoatr-ki a few minutes, made for that measure. The vest and trouscis were all right, of eourse, for you arc a man of average build. And you are a lucky man, too, according to jny way of thinking. I know that when it Is said; 'Oh, he la an average man,’ the term is used in a deprecatory sense. As a matter of fact, to say that a man is nr. average man is to say that he will go through life easily, with less friction, with more pleasure nnd less annoyance than the man w ho is above or 1k*1ow the average. Everything made in quanti ty is made to fit the average man. A door knob is placed where it is most handy to the man of average height. A letter-box is put up so that the aver age man can mail his letters with the least difficulty. Car straps hang down fur enough for the average limn to clutch them w ith the least effort. Car steps are placed so that the average man can get In nnd out of a street car easily. "Hats, shoes, shirts, collars, cuffs, stockings, clothing of every sort, are made of average sizes. If a man of a certain height is too fat or too slim for Hie average build of that height, he is in trouble as soon as he enters a cloth ing store. If his legs are too long, or too short, the salesman must overhaul his stock and try on a number of trou sers before he finds a pair that will fit, and frequently he must have thciq al tered after nil. “Now, it's the same i|t other ways. The man of average intelligence, aver age brain power, average schooling, average morality and average religious ideas will get along In the world better than men who stand high nl>ove him. Men above the average have added re- sjKmsibilitles thrust upon them. More is expected of/ them. They are sup posed to keep up a fast gait, and If they do not the world finds fault with them. The average citizen, average husband, average father, average man, Is happy because he is inconspicuous. He go<*s along unnoticed, ns he is neither a fool nor a genius; he attracts no attention and finds ten times more solid pleasure In life than those who are highly gifted In one way or another. You see the average man Is a well-balanced man, and balance means stability and stabil ity means rest. I have figured this thing out and have come to the con clusion that the world is lietter because of the great majority of average men, who go steadily nnd quietly along, not because of the few geniuses who flash up and blaze like. Ixinfires for a time nnd then die down, to have their ashes blown into everybody’s eyes to annoy and jM/ster them.'*—Chicago Record. A FRANK WITNESS. ly. 1 hear the old preachers talking about the camp meetings held in the former days. The great crowds gath ered here; all classes, the religious jh*o- ple and the irreligious people. The devil’s crowd came with their bottles of rum and the appetite for drink. Ten or twelve ]>olicemen were necessary to keep them w ithin the bounds of order, hut the jieoplc tented upon the camp ?sj>eelally one which takes in a num-J her of boarding houses or hotels, a ship per can find enough tableware to pay the ex|)onses of his tour. Often hn. makes a rich find. Very frequently he has permission to ‘slop’ the can from the owners of the house themselves, for he tells them ho. is on the lookout for^ stray pieces of meat, etc., which he sells lo tiiose who have dogs to feed. Rome any silverware they may find for the, dog-meat privilege, but it is a terrible temptation to many nnd one they can-: not or do not at times, .vjtlistnavrr 1 ’ " THE “WAGO OWANHAN." In a Testimony Taken In Dreseh of TromDe Salt. In Henry county, this state, some years ago, a young woman who was suing her former sweetheart for breach of promise wan put on the witness stand, and the lawyers, as mual, began making nil sorts of inquisitive inVr* rogatories. “You soy," remarked on*, “that the defendant frequently sat very close to you ?’’ '•’Yesslr," was the reply, with a hcctio flush. “How close?" "Clown enough so's one cheer was all the sittin’ room we needed.” "And you sny he put his arm around your waist ?" "No, I didn’t.” "IVhat did you sny, then?” “I said he put both arms uroun* me." Then what?” "He hugged me.” "Very hard?” “Yep, he did. 8o hard that I came purty near hollerin’ right out.” “Why didn’t you holler?” " 'Cause.” "That's no excuse. Re explicit, please; because what?” "’Cause I was afecred he’d stop."—• Chicago Post. A silk spinner in Aleppo, by working from sunrise to sunset, can earn 73 cents a day. A Mysterious Licht That Hangs West Vlrftlnlu Canyon. An old-time West Virginia wonder' is again causing quite a discussion; among the reading and thinking peo ple of Wyoming and adjoining coun ties. The “wonder” referred to is the mysterious light which has been known since times almost prehistoric ns the j ‘Wago Owanhau.” This phenomenal light, says the St. I/ouis Republic, appears to emanate: from a certain spot on the precipitous sides of the great Pat We.ss canyon. It easts its ghostly sheen across the waters of the river, lighting the sur roundings not with a “sickly, pale, white light,” but with a phosphorescent glow of sufficient brightness to make the reading of a newspaper or a Ixiok possible on the darkest night. Accord-' lug to some Investigators of the* “Wago, Ownnhan” tho light does not emanate, from any sjxit on the canyon's side, hut; hangs out.over the river, likea ItininouH. cloud or fsvg. This appears to have been the ea-c* at the time when Prof. Tohlure and Mr. I. E. Christian—the latter of Oceana, IV. Yu.—visited the sjx>t. On the 13t.li and 1f»th of last Fcbnmry nn : expedition, headed by Mi*. Christian,' again visited the “Wago Ownnhnn.”. Snow was falling rapidly at the time,, and Mr. Christian cays that every flake,' when it reached :i height of nliout 200 feet alxne the water, “would blane out with dazzling brightness" nnd remain luminous until it reached the surface. A scientific investigation of the phe nomenon w ill be made. SETTLED IN NOVA SCOTIA. Marta grounds these latter days are orderly, | siopjx'.rs are honest enough to return: quiet, good people. They come out from the cities before the camp meetings be gin nnd domicile themselves in the cot tages on the grounds nnd remain seme of them for weeks after the camp meeting closes. It is true of nearly all the camp meeting grounds, they are but summer resorts and they regard the re ligious meeting as a helpful nnd pleas urahle recreation more than other wise. The great crowd of roughs and toughs have made for themselves other resorts. The baseball grounds, the golf ground, the bicycle races, the stenm- Imnt excursions, the beer gardens, etc., claim their own crowds these days, and a man may take his choice and go to tin* place rflost congenial to his spirits anil habits. The gooil seem to 1m* getting further from the had, or the had are drifting from the good. The good are getting better, and it is equally true the had arc getting worse. The social features on these camp grounds give pleasure to all the cot tagers. They seem to 1m* an agreeable, pleasant, affable class of |M*ople, as sembled here. We have three preach ing services a day, besides the social prayer meeting, class meetings and Ep- •worth league meetings. The old-fash ioned altar service in which thousands have been converted has well-nigh lost its efficiency at tho ramp meetings. True, the altar remains, hut sinners do not crowd the altar as they once did. The old-fashioned cam]) meeting preach er seems to be a thing of the past. His foghorn voice, his earnest exhortations, nnd the tremendous truths he preached are passed away, largely. Wc do not expect great results now as we did then. I am sure we do not see them. The educated ministers, the output of our theological seminaries, the re fined worldliness of the day; all these tend to relegate to the rear the earnest Christianity of our fathers. Wc have more learning nnd less loyalty; more dignity and loss downright piety than our fathers seemed to have. The same truths our fathers preaehed will bring the same results our fathers witnessed. Truth is n.s unchangeable, as human nature, hut our preaching is more scien tific, phiionopical, and many of us for get Paul’s promise to the Corinthians when he said to them: “I am deter mined to know nothing among you ex cept Christ and Him crucified.” Our fathers were tremendously in earnest. Rible truth mixed with earnestness would he as effeetive to-day as it has been in the past. The. million men who are traveling from the cradle to the grave conscious that there is but one step lietwlxt them nnd death can 1m* moved and stirred to-day ns they have lieen in tho past if right truths and con secrated efforts are put forth. I am not crying for the good old times. Rome things are better now than then. I believe in progressive theology nnd progressive methods, but I stickle for primitive Christianity and apostolic power. The heads of men, the intelli gence of men, may help them to see things in different, lines, but the con science of humanity will ever respond to truth, and conscience is the target at which all earnest preaching must be aimed. Live consciences must Ik* stirred; dead consciences must be res urrected. Conseience is always on the side of truth. Truth coming in con* tact with conscience produce* convic tion, nnd every upward movement of the soul is from conviction. IVe still have many of the old-fash ioned camp meetings in the south. Primitive in style; alioundfng in hos pitality, nnd rich in results; but they are passing away. In. the. north and east each family has Its own cottage. In the south every cottage is yours, nnd every table ministers to your wants. The grove prayer meeting; the altar full of penitents; Christian people work ing. No wonder results come. Rut where religious meetings are regarded as simply pleasurable recreations, we do not expect much for the soul, and we are not disappointed. There are -''ores of preachers In at tendance upon those camp meeting*. They enter into the spiritof the services, and no doubt go to their pastorates better equipped for the. work before them. They say so. They thoroughly enjoy these meetings. The dudes nnd dndines, the society jieoplo give the camp meetings these latter days a wide berth. The truths preached disturb their conscience and make them un happy. Eat, drink nnd Im* merry, for the morrow wc die, is not the motto of those who love the camp ground. When the camp ground shall have passed away, what next? SAM P. JONES. Cnioniiil Amerlc.iin Who Karly Their Uoinrs In Canada. Many loyalists, particularly from New England, had lied to Nova Rcotia before the close of the war,and settled cn the s|M>t where the city (if Rt. John now stands. This gave one objective point, at any rat'.*, rays Macmillan's Mi'/razif’.e, to the much Inrg*r band of exiles who at. the jience were forced to seek new hollies at. short notice; nnd In o single year the new settlements grew to some 13,000 souls. Men of all classes flocked there, officers and sol diers, clergymen and lawyers, farmers, mechanics and merchants. They w , erO' naturally much above the average of ordinary emigrants, both in character, education ami intelligence; but all, or* marly nil, were equally destitute nnd forced to begin the battle of lifeafrcsh, A year later New Rrunswlck was sep arated from Nova Rcotia, endowed with* a council nnd home assembly, and tho capitpl moved to the present cite at Ercdcrlcton. The first coune’.l included ninny well- known New England nanus, such n« I'utnnni, Winslow, Allen and Willard. It Included, also, a late judge of the supreme court of New York, another* distinguished lawyer of that colony., nnd several officers of the loyal regi ments. Roth the New York anil tho Virginia branch of the Robinsons, one of the wealthiest and most influential families in colonial America, were hero represented, and to t his day arc eoospie- uous in upper Cnnaiki. Eliot's Imllan I’lolc. Miss Frances II. Tribou, daughter of C‘ ‘ ' Tribou, takes exception to the oft-repeated statement, that no man now living can read Eliot's Indian Rible. Hhe writes Zion's Herald that at the Mohonk Indian eon fere nee of 18'Jl she heard Rishop Whipple say that it Is a mistake to ray it cannot be read, be cause the Ojibwnys of Minnesota can rend It. As tin* l*i*hop's remarks are. published in the pnM*( i dingz of the con ference, nnd as he is an authority on such mutters, Miss TriLou's exception seems to 1m* well taken. Amrrle^nlsins. Phrases l.kc “I don't want to,” with the infinltbe elided after the to, having Wen declared to Is* Americanisms, Rev. J. Erie writes to the neadi my that be had always used and hiard the form, being n native of South Devon, n ml also quote* Dr. Watts' "Let bears and lior.s growl and fight, for ’t : s their nature to." Dr. Fitz Edward Hall gives n long list of English examples for the phrase, W- ginning with the year 103(1 and includ ing Jeremv (’oilier. !)• foe, S mtbey, Pickens, Charles R* ade, Luskin ami George Eliot. i