Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page. It is also available as plain text as well as XML.

THE LElVEK: GAFFNEY, S. C., JULY 1, 1897. 3 FRESH AND QUAINT. Stories from Life in the and Hilla Woods Lively I'rnyin '<!litto n«-t;clttte tln» WVatber—Tlie rout OfHee “SleMument” at Flat Hotric —Plain Cow Talk. -.V “They arenowhaving'tho cnlyest time —a imwit felonious Itigr time—over in the hill country—and all on aeeount of the weather.” So says lllev Sero/Tfrins to me the other day whilst on his re turn back home from a round trip into that historic strip of woods. And from the general way in which lllev to speak, through the 'T-fi has not been broke as yet, and if it don't rain by this time to-morrow Par son Radford's motion will be indetinite- ly lost, so to speak. “As to me, llufe, I would rather not bet my money an what the weather will do. Only the good Lord knows about that, and lie don’t have to tell poor human beins in this valley of dry bones everything He knows. Hut if they keep on with that prnyin match- it wouldn’t be no ways surprisin to me if He was to send a cyclone or a water spout and sweep off the face of the earth with them people over there. My notion is that when a man plants hi° erop and works it right, and don’t ie * the grass run away with it, he he® then done his prorata share and it none of l;is fool business about tb^ dry drouth or the rain.” ones! upon a tin 1 ©—«° m e where * n | on if about 1«4<J or 18^“ an< * consequentially I am now abou-' 4G or 47 years old. But whether I am 47 P ast * or 40 m ' xt h r rnss. God only kr,^ W8 > and 1 reckon I will have to wai* a right smart w hit before 1 find out f or certain. If they ever put ARP HAS A BIRTHDAY. And Ho FhUosophizss a Little on tho Occasion. Snyn RverytlilaR Shrinks es We Xear the facts >* n d figures on record which j the Goal—ThlnUs Man Was Made to lie lltiyyy—Metan- elioly Poets. then went on p. s.—Olnee Blev rid by that day I have’nt heard any fresh and startlin news form the hills country. But it has been thunderiii powerful over in that wav. and it may be that all-wise Provi- abundnnee of his mouth, it would seem dcru-e can work things out satisfactual like the long dry spell has brung the people over there to a feelin sense of the recorded fact that they are but small potatoes and few in the hill, with the rows six feet wide. to both sides 6f the creek. A I.lvelr Prnyin Match. “No doubts, llufe, but what you have tended spellin matches and shootin matches and wcdtlin matches, but now did you ever hear tell of sich u tiling as a prayin match? Well, that is what the puopic over there have now come to, and the great question is which side will win out on the last rattle of the box. “Von recollect how Gum creek runs • down through the hills, Jiufc, splittin the settlement about half and half on one side and the other. Now, from the rnainest leadin facts in the case it seems as if the people on yonder side of the creek got seriously afllicted with a smart spell last year and sowed their oats in the fall, whilst them on this side didn’t sow till tin* regular time here since Christmas. So, consequen tially the people on the other side cut their oats in May, whilst them on this side are now chin-deep in that most hellaeious hot and unpleasant job. with their oat fields wavin ripe and yellow into the harvest, as it were. “For six long weeks they have been miftVrin from a dry drought, with cool nights and hot days on both sides of the creek. In the main time the corn erop is now bunehin for the silk and tas sel, and the thirsty earth is oallin for lain water. In durin the past few days it has been Ihunderin around in the distance eonsiderafule, whilst the gen eral apnearments showed forth signs of fnllin weather. The people on this side of the creek wonted the weather man to postpone fur a few days so they mought git their oat crop cut and put tip dry, whilst them on the other side wanted the rain on their corn—wanted it rale bod, and wanted it right now. “iao there they are, llufe. Last Satur day morning bright and soon old Par son Radford rid through the settlement on yonder side of tin* creek and nor a ted it around that there would be prayer meetiu lor rain at Ids house that n ; ght, and saunt the word for everybody to come. Inside of two hours the news itad spread to this side of tin* creek, where, you understand, the people didn’t want no rain right away imme diately. And there it was. i “Vou see, Prfe, over there in the* Itiil country when il does rain, it is more than probable to rain upon the just us weil as the unjust—but more in partic ularly the unjust, from the fact they have got a whalin big majority every time the convention comes to order. And when it rains on one side of the creek it rains on both sides of the creek at the same time, in their churches and religious notions, and in all man ner of earthly devilment, the creek is the border line which divides tin* settle ment half and half. But they can’t fuss and fall out and split up and quit prn- jn together in regards to the weather, and that is what has brung on them lively prayin matches. “Now, when the news of what old Parson Radford was drivin at leaked out sufficient, Cal Sturgbs—which as youknowhei.su deacon in the church on this side of the creek—he didn't do a blame thing but saddle bis mule and go forth through the settlement on his side, givin it out as urgent and promis- eus as he could that there would be a prayer meet in at his house that night to pray for dry drought to hold on till the .people could save their oats, in oth er words, llufe. Parson Had ford had offered a resolution to suspend business and adjourn for refreshments, and now Cal Kturgiss made a motion to lay the resolution under the table. Know II!* Own Arc. White people—cm* and all—every body—but particular them that, don't . keep up the birth and death record— go right now and buy you a family Bible and set all the facts and iiggers down. Don’t wait about it. Time and the railroad trains don’t wait. And don’t you put it off. To-morrow it mought be overlust inly too late. A smarter nor a better man than Tip Wesley never lived anywheres in this section of country. But weary in the flesh and bowed down in spirits. Tip Wesley packed his wallet the other day and moved his wushin off to dis tant lands—the good Lord only knows for certain where. In the main time, ; from all I can pick up ♦’omin and goin, it would seem as if Tip Wesley hail went to work and put in his claims to the | post office down at Flat Rock. He was born and bread and brung up as a i dyed-in-the-wool republican. He had followed the old flag' in every coni- | puign tind voted the republican ticket . every clatter as early and as often as j he could with safety and convenience, | whilst old man Wade Sampley—which is now doin business through the post office at Flat Rook—is a moss-covered, j iron-bound, long-haired, screnmin deni- ( ocrat. The republicans round about Flat ; Rock belt a meet in and put up Tip ! Wesley as the right man for the place. | and then joined hands and balanced ' till together in the high hope of lift in Wade Sampl e outen his boots, or words I have n*y doubts about that—the rec ords go 4 or burnt up. and I wu.s left a hon* 0 ^ eK8 > helpless orphant boy to grow U P Bi pluperfect ignorance, and %v |,,-n people ask me how old I am I pmst answer like a free nigger and say burned if 1 know. “Naturally of course old man Wade Sampley knows as well as you or any body else that the single little fact that I couldn’t tell for certain how old 1 was didn't have a blame thing to do with runnin the post office at Flat Rock. But human nature is monstrous human, Rufe, and v hen the old man found that card up his sleeve—dadblame him—he didn’t know no better than to play it— which you can now see that v. hat he has done to me is a good gracious plenty. “There is one more thing. Rufe, which I don’t know for certain—I don’t know where I am movin to. And l doubt cl urn serious whether I would tell if i could. Most any old place, w here I can u covered trail, will do. Hut wheresomever 1 may gi.>—her.ee for wards and forever more—I will have a birthday and tell everybody Low old I am. 1 will be -17 years old on the loth day of next October.” “RnFl** If He Knew. Now, then, as for me, I rather like old man Wade Sampley and Tip Wes ley, too. And so fur as I am concerned there ain’t nothin in the little post office messment down at Flat Rock to make me low* a lick of sleep or miss u meal of victuals. Hut of all the mortal men that eum- Another paternal birthday in my fam ily. They seem to come about twice a year to me now. How everything shrinks as we near the goal. The trees are not so tall nor the hills so high as they used to be. That is very natural, and is nothing new—but hew is i; that even time should shrink—time, that is so exact, so unchangeable, and that is measured by the same ticking of the clock, and that is measured by tin* ris ing and setting of thetsun, and that by the revolving earth, and that by in; annual course around the sun? I can’t see why time should s eem to shrink a* all, or, if any change, it should expand, for we t an do more, think more, leant jnore, in a day than when we were chil dren. Seventy-two years ago tc-d.::y I came into this sublunary world and have had my share of joy and s rrow,, and am content with my lot in life. As David said: “The lines have fallen to me in pleasant places. Yea. I have a good heritage.” But poor oki .lob took it hard when Satan despoiled him, and he cursed his day and said, in the an- guisih of his soul: “Let tin* day perish wherein I was born. Why died I not from the womb, for then 1 should have lain still and been at rest, for there the wicked cease from troubling and the weary arc at rest?” Poor old man; his sad story always excites my sym pathy. Then there was Jeremiah, who exclaimed: “Oh. that my head were waters and mine eves a river of tears. rain, and that it was every man’s duty i to do something,for his fellow men,and ! also for those who were to come after Min. “Our fathers and forefathers.” said he, “wrote books and invented use ful contrivances, and planted trees and vines for us.,and. so,, as we cannot pay them for it, we should do something for posterity.’’ I am about even t :> that lint, for J have planted trees, both shade and fruit, wherever I have lived, and my wife still keeps me planting vines. I have written many sketches and a book or two, without malice aforethought, and can say. with Byron: “What !.< writ is writ. Would It were worthier.” On the whole, I am grateful that r:y life has been allotted to tl: ln.- t three- quarters of this century—seven dec ades that have witnessed mure progress in s hence, art, invention and Christian civilization than any previou:-; thousand years in the world’s history. A great leap forward has been made since 1 was a boy, for 1 remember when there were i but few books and fewer newspapers in the United States—when there were , but two or three little short railroads, ' and not a telegraph or telephone— ; when there was no light but candle , light, and not a friction p atch in the world, nor a st ■! pen. Hut progress ! always brings a train of evil things | along with it. Kvrrv light has its shad ow. The devil is a lively cuss and keeps up with the procession. “.Man never builds a house of prayer iiut waut. the devil kas a puffin tiicre/’ And his pulpit, though invisible, is at the other end, where ti.e sinners love to congregate. 1 remember when there were no hip pockets nor pistol: to put •BACKBONE.’ Rev. Thos. Dixon to be in Gaffney Next Thursday night. One week from to-night Rev. Thos. Dixon, of'New \ ork, will deliver hid famous RA-turo • Backbone’’ in tho Opera House in this city. Mr. Dixon j is u Shelby boy, his fattier being a Baptist preacher of no mean ability, who resides in or near Shelby at the present time. For years Tom was regarded as the ‘ Black Sheep” of the Hock, but after sowing his wild J oats he setlied down and begun a work lor the cause of Christianity that has been greatly blessed. He is 1 now pastor of one of the largest churches in New York and he is so innch of a success as a pulpit orator that there is hardly a Sabbath that people are not turned away from his church because of Jack of room. Of his lecture too much cannot be said. He catches the audience at once and , holds tiiem to the last. We have ; heard it and have no hesitency in | telling the people of this section that j they will enjoy it. The Nashville : American has the following to say concerning the lecturer: i “Before the preliminary service was over at the Tabernacle yesterday j afternoon the vast auditorium was full of people, and Summer street, for a fuil uiock in each direction, was ; thronged with two streams of human- i it* pouring toward the building to i hear Rev. Thomas Dixon, Jr. At 2:45 j it was necessary to shut and fasten t the doors, as the Tabernacle was packed to suffocation, and there was her the soil of this great country. I do ; rursod 1)e 1he <1; , v therein I was born: think Wade Sampley ought to run bis ,. :ir , rd be t!u . !n .,;, 1 %vIi0 br(!Uirllt to that extent. They put tip the re publican plank in great shape and l ip was greasin the seat of his breeches, as it were, to slide right down into a soft plaee in tin* post offf; t* at Flat Rock. But all this time-old man Wade Samp- ley he w.anl gone nowheres so lur ns anybody knows. Ib* put it out through, the papers that Tip Wesley want no fitten man for the place, from the faet he didn’t even know how old he was, or when his next birthday would oome. And by gna ious th® old man proved up th. r. poet with the best men in the settlement for his witnesses. More than that, he got Tip Wesley in a crowd anil made him own the corn. Bad news, ns anybody knows, will spread worse than a prurie fire before a March wind, and in little or no time the fact went forth ty the country at huge that Tip Wesley—a w hite r..un jod a . publican -—which had been put up for the post office at Flat Rook, didn’t even so much as know how old he was. What did Tip do? What could he <!o but throw his hand to the peek and quit? Now in regards to book iearnin and native born sense Tip Wesley was plenty smart enough and able to run the post office down at Flat Rock. As between the two—to tell the truth and nothin but the truth—he has forgot more in the past three years than old | man Wade Sampley ever did know all | put together. And yet they didn’t tell i no felonious big lie on Tip Wcriey when j they put out the reports that he didn’t even know how old he was. or when his next birthday would come. It was all facts- facts as cold and sol cm as the Ri.inted dead. And when Tip come by that day to say good-by I got the story sad and straight, from his own month. mouth the slowest and skim the lightest in regards to what other people don’t know. Bless the heavens if I haven’t seen t he day and time when he was so mortal green till you could jest nat urally scrape it off with a splinter. Me and Wade and a whole passle more of boys and girls all went to school to gether to Miss Nan Biggcrs over at the Gross Ronds—which that was years ago. I never would live long enough todis- remember the day when Wade Sampley put in his first appearments at school, with his blue-bock speller under his arm. Marly in the mornin of the first day it come to muss that he didn’t know the first old letter in his A, B, G’s. But Miss Nan she took holt in her gentle and long-suft'erin way and went to work on him. “What is that, Wade?” says she, when they got toB. “Das? if I know,” says he. “('oru*. new,” says she, “you must be a good little boy. and not use naughty words. What makes the honey you eat?” “Bee. by golly?!” says he. * “Well, that is the second letter, and that is B,” says she. So they went on at about that lick till .they got down to G. “Wh"* i: that, Wad"?” rays she. “bast if I knew,” sues he. “When your pa is plowin and wat ts his horse to turn to the right side, what does he say ?” “lie don’t plow no horse—he plows a steer and uses plain cow talk.” “Well,w hat would he say if he wanted the steer to turn to (he right .dde?" Wade backed <«ff about ten feet, squared himself, squirted a skillet of to bacco juice aerost the flour and told Miss Nan what his pa would say: “Gee there! you dalburned old long- horned, slab-sided, wobbledy-legged ra zor-back son-of-a-gun!” And yet, after a few vain and fleetin years, that is the man who runs the post office down at Flat Rock-, whilst Tip Wesley has gone off somewheres to spit on the slate and spile out and grow up with the country. RUFUS SANDRES. Who Would and Who Wouldn't, “Well, in answer to the call, the peo ple come together that night—some met with 1’arson Radford, on yonder side of the creek, and some met with Deacon Cnl Kturgiss, on this side— some to pray for rain, and some to pray agin the motion for fallin weather. That was the general lay of the land as far us I found it when I rid over there Saturday night—w hi< h. of course, it was none of my private business how them people would rut her take their weather—and 1 didn’t try to poke my finger in the pie one way or the other. "Hit was way long towards 1? o’clock when the meet ins broke up Saturday night. By this time a big bank of clouds had piled up in the west, and oncst in awhile you could see a pah- streak of lightnin in the dim distance. But yet still it was four bits with one [side' and 50 cents with the other a to [who w ould and w ho w ouldn’t. Whereas both of the meet ins adjourned to n*- lume business at church the next day, Tnud the prayin match run'on through Sunday, Monday mornin when I left for home it was lookim a right smart like tin* people on this side of the creek mought win out and git their oats in ahead of the rain. 1 can tel! from the nin of the dunds that the dry drctlTh gp.'ilr.nntlon* Don’t I-kiptHln. “When you have fooled off as much ! time as I have, Rufe, fumblin and lid- diin around with polities you will tind I out that explanations don’t explain ! worth a continental dura,” says Tip. ‘•But 1 don't i ir.d tellin you what i? wluit and how it conn* to pass. I don't know for certain how old 1 am. 1 don't know a blame thing about my birthday — w hen the last one come or when the next one is cumin. But it nint my fault, Rufe. “You will recollect that my genera tion of people moved down here from somewheres back there in Georgy when I was nothin but a little* Scrap of a boy. The next year my mother she took sick and died. By and by tin* old man mar ried his second wife, and in the run of three or four months he likewise also « died—which I was the onlyest child in the family and then told me I was then about nine years old. “Well, if my father and mother ever hail a family Bible, with by birth rn- ords in it, I reckon it got lost in the movin, and there 1 was. I know that I have come down from a good stock of people. 1 think from by what 1 have heard from back there in Georgy that 1 was born—born in rcglar order and in the clue fullness of time—In the year IM'.t or 1850. I know from what one good old lady, which was livin in the same settlement nt that lime, that T w as born along in the fall of the year—on the full of the moon—and on a Saturday mornin about sunrise to the best of her recollection. But as for the jsirtielar month, and the partlelarelay of the month, 1 don’t know now—never did know—and never will know. All I can say of my own Indi vidually knowledge is that I was born Tin* Kmerfifosiey Kntion Tvlr-.l, Col. Charles Smart, of the medical de partment, who accompanied the troop of the First cavalry during the march for tin* purpose of testing th.* emer gency ration, has arrived in this city and reported to tin* department. The ration consists of eight ounces of hard bread, five ounces of beans, two ounces pea meal, one ounce coffee, one tablet saccharine, quarter ounce of tobacco and portions of salt and pepper. The men traveled 21 miles a day, los ing an average of thr.-e pounds of flesh, ; but gaining strength to an average of 40 pounds per man, ns shown "cy a <h nu- mometer.—Military Gazette, Chicago. Wonderful Median 1*0). According to some of its most cn- thusiastie friends, the Lay torpedo can do everything but talk. When in use it is connected to the ship or ahore, from which it is operated, by an insu lated wire, and curries above water some visible object to show its loca tion. The wire with which it is con nected Is carried on n reel in the torpedo, and pays out as the torpedo runs its course. By this wire it cun be started, stopped, steered, fired, sunk or raised at tic pleasure of the operator.—Military Gazette, Chicago. A volt)I nit I’nbllclt}-. “1 cannot longer keep the wolf from the door," he sighed, his head sinking dejectedly upon his breast. Thus he sat until his wife came and kissed his throbbing temples and sought to cheer him. “I’erhaps the wolf will go around to the back door,” she whispered. It was woman’s way to reflect upon the bright side of things; she. hadn’t much use for u side she couldn’t reflect on.—Detroit Tribune, in them, 1 remember when there was a blockade from the door to Church street, and another extending down grape YuM- gs : to my fatbi r saying a man child i - born ; unto thee.” I don’t like these sad people nor sad stories nor talas of misery. I never • read a romance that ends sadly. I don’t like the eompan t . of people who wear sad faces and are never happy unless they are miserable. 1 wish that ; Robert Burns hnd never written “Man , was made to mourn,” fori don’t believe h. Of all God’s creatures, turn is the ' only one that can smile, and lie should : smile as often as he can. Cowper was ; a sad 1 poet, but he does say: “Tii hind a frowrirs- providence He wears a smilir.s; face.” That is better. The Creator who beautified' and adorned the earth with | fruits and flower* ::i:d gave* ns birds to i sing and music to charm, and studded the heavens with stars, did not make | man to mourn. If He hud given us only buzzards for birds and dog fen- j net for flow ers and the howling of the | winds for music we might have I mourned; but I rather like that poet I v. hf* in the gush of his gratitude said: “7 nis world is very lovely. Oh, my God, I thank Thee that I live.” Young was another sad and solemn poet, and ; •*y* 7 : “Man wants but little here below, Nor wants that little long.” Sidney Smith was more genial, and tr: y:;: “Man wants but Iff Ho here below, As beef, pork, lamb and venison show.” I wish somebody would tell in:* when* T can find a parody on that same text no whisky in this country, and the only spirits drank were wine, peach brandy, cognac brandy, that was made from i.d New Hngland rum that the tees mudo from motas>ej>. They made the rum to buy niggers with in Africa, out some of it got down south. Whisky came later, and was originally uskeybaugh, a gas tic word that, s . range to say, means water of life. The last syllable was happily dropped in course of time, for it menus life—and uskey was pronounced woesky. Bui it would take a book to tell at! the <•' r,o yi it. I would blot some tilings out if 1 could, anil set the clock back, but God knowetii. ilrpecially would 1 blot out fcvery bad thought and every bad deed of my own—every act that gave pain or anxiety to those who loved me. The worst word in the language is remorse. I am free from that, 1 know, but not from r: gret. I w ish that all the young people would stop and think—some times stop and third: and resolve to do to Broad.” enanges that have marked the last .irs the good of it and the bail of noth “G> that will follow them like Ban- quo’s ghost when they get old.—Bill Arp, in Atlanta Constitution. THOSE LITTLE TOY WAGONS. All by John Quincy a century ago. It ind began: Fxnvtly to Her Taatc. Nil' . Larkin—Do you like Welsh rab bit. Mrs. Wester? j Mrs. Wester (wbe never ate any)— Oh. yes, imk»ed. T do love ail sorts cf ! imported foods.—X. Y Journal. that was written Adams about half was a charming poem, “Man wants but little here below, Nor wants that little lonjr, ’Tis not witli me exactly so, Tho' ’tls so In the song-" Then he sets forth a delightful cata logue of what he does want, and it ac cords with our desires ai.-l excuses ar* fur indulging them. Let a man. ami i specially a w oman, w ish as much as he or she pleases, but no good comes of a distressful longing for things we can’t get. Woman is peculiar about that. She can want pretty things ever so badly, and do without them ever so graciously. During the war and about its distressing close the wives ami mothers who had; lived in luxury came down to poverty and hard times with more fortitude than the men—I knew many men w ho gave up and pined aw ay and died, but their wives didn’t. They held up their heads am! struggled on. I remember how crushed and helpless I felt when I got my family back home and found nothing but a shelter—not a bed to s']<*ep on—not a cow i;i the county, no flour, no sugar nor coffee— not a chicken nor an egg. and i.omoney to buy with, if the**** had barn any- thingto buy —no w ood to burn, no fem e around the house, and so we had to bufin the stable that the Yankees built on our lot for their horses. It was deso lation, and with me was almost de spair. but my wife never surrender'd, anil : be hasn't yet. She want as many' good thi'gs and niee things ns any body, but when trouble conies she can suffer and be strong. It is a good time about now for a man of my years to look back and take n kind of inventory of what 1 have done all this time—what has been nerom- plish' d for the world’s good or any body's good, not for my own good, for that don’t count up yonder. Before I go into the receiver’s hands it is well for me to make up an invoice. When n schoolboy we used to debate whether or not there was sueh a thing ns dis interested benevolenee. I thought then that there was. but it seems to me now that almost eiery good thing I ever did was very much mixed with selfishness, and that all that will excuse me will be on the line of the poet w ho says: “Th'-y who Ry would win, Must share* it—happiness was born !n twin.” There is some comfort in that, for I believe 1 have taken pleasure in divid ing with others the blessings that God has given me. The retrospect is, how ever, not free from clouds and blurs, and I w ould that I could live those parts of my life over again, and live them bet ter. Dr. Johnson said to Boswell that I a man w ho lived for himrelf lived in Children Piny with Them from the !’ !e to t!:o l.’ ;ralt*r, ij>) . .qU l, ii.'l. j It must be that the toy wagon is the favorite plaything of children the w orld over, for there is no country in which growa-up wagons are used that has not toy wagons just like them except in size. And ia those countries where wagons are never used there are al ways substitutes. There are the Eskimo children, for instance, who use in their play little sledges made of bone carefully whittled out and pieced together—crossbars, runners and all—just as big sledges Blanton wi re in the days before wood and iron could be bought of the whaling ships. The best toys are always rather old- fashioned. The six tiny ivory dogs of an Eskimo toy team are at tached to the sledge* by strands of seal gut or other tough, tine fiber, which is always get ting tangled. In the Kaghulien island, which is al most as arctic as Greenland in spite of its being generally reckoned a Japanese island, the toy sledges are provided with poles, and the dogs, whittled out flat, are attached to it by pegs driven through their bodies into the pole. In either ease, the labor of carving sledge and dogs out of bone anil fitting them together must take many days of pa tient work. Turkish toy wagons in the towns are just what they would be in America, but in the country the horses are often replaced by toy buffaloes w hose heads are weighed down with big drooping horns; the axles are set Immovably into the solid wheels, and the axles them selves turn in sockets under the wagon, which is just what big axles do in that region. But better than u wagon of any kind is a whole caravan of toy cam els, plodding their way across the desert of a ten-loot strip of sand with imaginary freitage on their hump backs, bound for a make-believe Mecca just in front of the next boy’s house. Jii Morocco, where there are no wag ons at nil, the dolls ride on the hacks of doll donkeys—though in the houses of rich men there are often elaborately- dressed French dolls just from Paris, with gilded state conches drawn by w hite homes for them to ride in. Their owners, however, will probably never in the whole course of their lives see a real wagon. In Egypt, whose only main road is the Nile, children play with Mecea- trains of camels as they do in Turkey, or quite as likely sail tiny duhabciuhs with huge sails on the canals which cut the whole land into a vast green check er board. And just such boats were built by the children who lived in Pha raoh-time, thousands of years ago; just as Roman children had tiny char iots to play with, whose doll drivers leaned out over stiff, high dashboards to lush doll horses of four-inch stature in the rush along some imaginary Appian way. Sleep in peace by us ing Sure Pop Bed Bug Killer. Cherokee Drug Co. Proceedings of N. P, S. S. Convention. The following is a synopsis of the proceedings of the North Pacolet Interdenominational Sunday School Convention at Mesopotamia. The Convention melon June 27th avd was called to order by the presi dent w Up ftsked J.jL. Walker to act as sscretary pro. tem. Devotional exercises were corduet- ed oy Rv-v. Simpson Blanton, wlur read the Uth chapter of Hebrews and made some comments upon it. Prayer by Bro. C. W. Whisonant. The roll of scholars was called and nine schools reported with delegates as follows: Abingdon Creek—J. C. Jefferies, Frank McCluney. —.Corinth—K. IL Whelchel, Kd. Clary,, J. C. Thompson. Elbethel—Albert Maynor, Joe Poole. George Jefferies, .Simpson The Heal Eanu'er. ‘Tie has broken my heart,” wailed the beautiful girl. “Tliere, don’t take on so,” saiil ber, fri.*nil, In tones of pity; “it might hav-J been your bicycle.”—Boston Traveler. Flint Hill—Elmore Lequaux, J, R. Davis. J. G. Wright. T. H. Dorman. Gethsemane—J. H. Jones, C. G. Phillips, Miss Helen Kirby, Mrs. J. H. James. Messopotamia—8am \V. Foster, Misses Molie Kirby and Dussie Go forth. Salem—Sam Lee, Noble Blackwood, Misses Etta Strain and Mattie Kstis. Sardis—A. G. Davis, I. M. PatricJJ. Wilson’s Chapel—Misses Susan Leinester, Pearl Whisonant and \V. H. Webber. Reports from township superin tendents, J. C. Thompson and Rev. Simpson Blanton, were made, botli of inborn made a detailed report of their wor£us organizers and mudo urgent appeals for better work. Reports wese commended by different breth ren. Rev. Mr. Isom being absent attend ing to his ministerial work at the quarterly meeting at Asbury'schapel. the first query, “Do the lesson helps have a tendency to increase tt lesser spirtunl interest in the Sabbath school?” was tajen up and discussed by Wm. Jefferies, T. J. Kstis and others. 2nd. Query:—“Do church members who neglect the Sabbath Schco! live consistent Christian lives?” was dis cussed by Willie Mabry and Frank McCluney and others. intermission. AFTERNOON’ SESSION. Met at 2 p. in.. Singing by the choir and devotional exercises by ti.e chaplain. President gave notice that a perma nent secretary and treasurer should l»e elected fur remainder of year as Bro. J. Eb. Jefferies had moved beyond the bounds if this convention and could not possibly attend to it now. The discussion of the second query was resumed and Bro, Wnj. Jefferies and others spoke on the subject. Slrcngcthen Hu* ilijrestloii. rejruluU* the liv er iiinl purify the Im.wiTs If you muilii liitve health. To keep these ortfaus tealtliyuiMt vigorous is the especial province of 1*KU aj.V ASH HlTTEBS. When there is unyih-iMii^ce- uieut tt acts directly on the affected organ, yoinu rivht to the sent of I rouhie and driving nil Impurities and dtseiis'- jn-r-ns from the system. I'bichi.v Ash Hn-ncu* U*’horougii system^ tonic. Heals the kidneys, strepytk- ens and reiiuh’U-'s liver, stomach and Div.i is and so fortifl s the *>otiy that it can successfully resist inul irli.l or other olseit- ses that may •»• prevalent. Soid hy tho ( herokoe Hruj* Con.puny. If Btee tio >«e Grouse don’t care your ache* and pains, hum*, hruisc* and sprains, we pay you tuo r y back. DcPrk HuiO Co.