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.

I / THE LEDGER: GAFFNEY, S. C., APRIL 14, 1898. CHRIST’S SACRIFICE. f “ f*EV. DR. TALMAGE'S EASTER SUNDAY SERMON. The Iaw of Self Sacrifice the Theme of an Eloquent Dtacourse—Common Sense Must Prevail In ltd Igloo as In Every thing Else. [Copyright, 1S98, by American Press Asso ciation.] Washixoton, April 10.—The radical theory of Christianity is set forth by Dr, Talmage io. this discourse, and re markable instances of self sacrifice are brought out for illustration. The text is Ileb. ix, 23, “Without shedding of blood is no remission.” John G. Wbittrfcf,'the last of the great school of American poets that made the last quarter of this century brilliant, asked me in the White moun tains, one morning after prayers, in which I had given ontCowper’s famous hymn about “the fountain filled with blood,” “Do yon really believe there is a literal application of the blood of Christ to the soul?” My negative reply then is my negative reply now. The Bible statement agrees with all physi cians and all physiologists and all sci entists in saying that the blood is the life, and in the' Christian religion- it moans simply that Christ’s life was given for cur life. Hence all this talk of men who say the Bible story of blood is disgusting, and that they don’t want wbat they call a “slaughter house re ligion,” only shows their incapacity or unwillingness to look through the figure of speech toward tbo thing sicnified. The blood that on (he darkest Friday the world ever saw oozed or trickled c,r poured from tho brow, and tbo side, and the bauds, and tbo feet of the illustrious ■offerer back of Jerusalem in a few hours coagulated aud dried up and for ever disappeared, and if man had de pended on the application of the literal blood of Christ there would not have been a soul saved for tho last 18 cen turies. In order to understand this red word of my text wo only have to exercise as much common sense in religion as wo do in everything else. Pang for pang, hanger for hunger, fatigue for fatigue, tear for tear, blood for blood, life for life, wo see every day illustrated. Tho act of substitution is no novelty, al though I hear men talk as though tho idea of Christ’s sutferingsubstituted for our suffering wero something abnormal, something distressingly odd, something wildly eccentric, a solitary episode in tho world’s history, when I could take yon out into this city aud before run down point you to 000 cases of substi tution and voluntary suffering of one in behalf of another. The Invisible Line. At 3 o’clock tomorrow afternoon go among tbo places of business or toil. It will bo no eiitlieulr thing for you to find men who, by their looks, show you that they aro overworked. They are prema turely old. They aro hastening rapidly toward their decease. They have gone through crises in business that shattered their nervous system and pulled on tho brain. They have a shortness of breath and a pain in tho back of tho bend aud at night an insomnia that alarms them. Why aro they drudging at business early aud late? For fiui? No; it would fco difficult to extract any amusement out of that exhaustion. Becauso they are avaricious? In many cases no. Because their own personal expenses aro lavish? No; a few hundred dollars would meet all their wants. Tho simple fact is the man is enduring all that fatigue and exasperation anil wear aud tear to keep his homo prosperous. There is an invis ible lino reaching from that store, from that bank, from that shop, from that Bcalfoldicg, to a quiet scene a few blocks, a few miles away, and there is the ii3crot of that business endurance. Ho is simply tho champion of a home stead, for which he wins bread and wardrobe and education and prosperity, and in such battle 10,000 men fall. Of ten business men whom I bury, nine die of overwork for others. Some sud den disease finds them with no power of resistance, and they are gone. Life for life! Blood for blood! Substitution! At 1 o’clock tomorrow morning, tho hoar wbun slumber inmost uninterrupt ed and profound, walk amid the dwell ing houses of tho city. Hero and them yon will find a dim light, because it is the household custom to keep a subdued light burning, but most of tho houses from base to top aro as dark as though uninhabited. A merciful God has sent forth tho archangel of sleep, and ho puts his wings over tho city. But yon der is a clear light burning, and outside on a window casement a glass or pitcher containing food for a sick child. Tho food is set in tho fresh air. This is the sixth night that mother has sat up with that sufferer. She has to tho last point obeyed the physician’s prescription, not giving a drop too much or too little or a moment too 6oori or too late. She is very anxious, for sho has buried three children with tho same disease, and she prays and weeps, each prayer and sob ending with a kiss of tho pale cheek. By dint of kindness sho gets tho little one through the ordeal. After it is all over the mother is taken down. Brain or nervous fever sets in, aud one day she loaves tho convalescent child with a mother’s blessing and goes up to join tbo three departed ones in the kingdom of heaven. Life for life I fcSubstitatiou! The fact is that there are an uncounted number of mothers who, after they have navigated a large family of chil dren through all the diseases of infancy aud got them fairly started np the flow ering slope of boyhood aud girlhood, have only strength enough left to die. They fade away. Some call it consump tion, some call it nervous prostration, some call it intermittent or malarial in disposition, but I call it martyrdom of the domestic circle. Life for lifel Blood (or blood! Hubstitatiou 1 Blood For Blood. ' ’ Or perhaps a mother lingers long enough to see a son get on the wrong road, and his former kindness becomes rough reply when she expresses anxiety about him. But she goes right on, look ing carefully after his apparel, remem bering his every birthday with some memento, and when he is brought home worn ont with dissipation narses him till he gets well and starts him again and hopes and expects and prays and counsels and suffers until her strength gives out and she fails. She is going, and attendants, bonding over her pillow, ask her if she has any message to leave, and she makes great effort to say something, but out of three or four minutes of indistinct utterance they can catch but three words, “My poor boy!” The simple fact is sho died for him. Life for life! Substitution! About 88 years ago there went forth from our northern and southern homes hundreds of thousands of men to do bat tle. All tho poetry of war soon vanish ed, aud left them nothing but the terri ble prose. They waded knee deep in mud. They slept in snow banks. They marched till their cut feet tracked tho earth. They were swindled out of their honest rations and lived on meat not fit for a dog. They had jaws fractured, and eyes extinguished and limbs shot away. Thonsands of them cried for water as they lay on the field tho night after tho battle aud got it not. They were homo- sick aud received no message from their loved ones. They died in tarns, in bushes, in ditches, the buzzards of tho summer heat tho only attendants on their obsequies. No one but tho infinite God, who knows everything, knows tho ten thousandth part of the length and breadth and depth and height of anguish of the northern aud southern battle fields. Why did these fathers leave their children and go to tho front, and why did those young men, postponing 1 the marriage day, start out into the probabilities of never coming back? For a principle they died. Life for life! Blood for blood! Substitution! Principle Self Sacrifice. But we need not go so far. What is that monument in tho cemetery? It is to the doctors who fell in the southern epidemics. Why go? Wero there not enough sick to be attended in these northern latitudes? Oh, yes; but tho doctor puts a few medical books in his valise, and some vials of medicine, and leaves his patients hero in the-hands of other physicians and takes tho rail train. Before ho gets to the infected re gions he passes crowded rail trains, reg ular and extra, taking the flying aud affrighted populations. He arrives in a city over which a great horror is brooding. He goes from conch to couch, feeling tho pulse aud studying symptoms and prescribing day after day, night after night, until a fel low physician says, “Doctor, you had better go homo and rest; you look mis erable.” But ho cannot rest while so many aro suffering. On and on, until some morning finds him in a delirium, in which ho talks of home, and then rises and says ho must go and look after those patients. He is told to lie down, but ho fights his attendants until he falls back, aud is weaker and weaker, and dies for people with whom he had no kinship and far away from his own family, and is hastily put away in a stranger’s tomb, aud only the fifth part of a newspaper line tells us of his sac rifice—his name just mentioned among five. Yet ho has touched tho farthest height of sublimity in that three weeks of humanitarian service. Ho goes straight us an arrow to tbo bosom of him who said, ‘‘1 was sick and yo vis ited me.” Life for life I Blood for blood! Substitution! In the legal profession I ere tho same principle of self sacrifice. In 184t! Wil liam Freeman, a pauperized and idiotic negro, was at Auburn, N. Y., on trial j for murder. Ho bud slain the entire ; Van Nest family. The foaming wrath ' of the community could ho kept off him j only by armed constables. Who would | volunteer to bo his counsel? No attor ney wanted to sacrifice his popularity by such au ungrateful task. All were | silent save one, a young lawyer with 1 feeble voice that could hardly be heard j outride the bar, pale and thin aud awk ward. It was William II. Seward, who saw that tho prisoner was idiotic and irresponsible and ought to be put in an asylum rather than put to death, the heroic counsel uttering these beautiful words: fiubKtitntion. “I speak now in the hearing of a peo ple who have prejudged prisoner and condemned mo for pleading in his be half. Ho is a convict, a pauper, a negro, without intellect, sense or emotion. My child with au affectionate smile disarms my careworn face of its frown whenever I cross my threshold. The beggar in the Btreet obliges me to give because be says ‘God bless yon’ as I pass. My dog caresses me with fondness if I will but smile on him. My horse recognizes mo when I fill his manger. What reward, what gratitude, what sympathy aud affection can I expect here? There the prisoner sits. Look at him. Look at the assemblage around you. Listen to their ill suppressed censures and excited fears and tell me where among my neighbors or my fellow men, where, even in his heart, I can expect to fiud a sentiment, a thought, not to say of reward or of acknowledgment or even of recognition. Gentlemen, you may think of this evi dence what yon please, bring in what verdict you can. but I asseverate before heaven and yon that to tho best of my knowledge and belief the prisoner at the bur does not at this moment know why it is that my shadow falls on you instead of his own. ” The gallows got its victim, but the post mortem examination of the poor creature showed to all the surgeons aud to all the world that the pnblio were wrong and William H. Seward W’as right, and that hard, stony step of obloquy in the Auburn courtroom was the first step of the stairs of fame up which he went to the top, or to within one step of the top, that last denied him through the treachery of American politics. Nothing snblimer was ever seen in au American courtroom than William H. Beward, without reward, standing between the furious populace and the loathsome imbecile. Substitu tion! In the realm of the fine arts there was as remarkable an instance. A brilliant but hypercriticised painter, Joseph William Turner, was met by a volley of abnso from all the art galleries of Europe. His paintings, which have since won the applause of all civilized nations, “The Fifth Plague of Egypt,” “Fishermen on a Lee Shore In Squally Weather,” “Calais Pier,” “The Sun Rising Through Mist” and “Dido Building Carthage,” were then targets for critics to shoot au In defense of this outrageously abused man, a young au thor of 24 years, just one year out of college, came forth with his pen and W’rote tho ablest and most famous essay on art that the world ever saw or ever will see—John Raskin’s'‘Modern Paint ers.” For 17 years this author fought the battles of the maltreated artist and after, in poverty and broken hearted ness, the painter had died and tho pub lic tried to undo their cruelties toward him by giving him a big funeral and burial in St. Paul’s cathedral, his old time friend took out of a tin box 19,000 pieces of paper containing drawings by the old painter, and through many weary and uncompensated months as sorted and arranged them for public ob servation. People say John Ruskin in his old day is cross, misanthropic and morbid. Whatever ho may do that ho ought not to do and whatever he may say that he ought not to say between now aud his death, ho will leave this world insolvent as far as it has any ca pacity to pay this author’s pen for its chivalric and Christian defense of a poor painter’s pencil. John Ruskin for William Turner! Blood for blood! Sub stitution ! Suffering; For Another. What au exalting principle this which leads one to suffer for another! Nothing so kindles euthnsiasm or awak ens eloquence, or chimes poetic canto, or moves nations. The principle is tho dominant one in our religion—Christ tho martyr, Christ the celestial hero, Christ tho defender, Christ the substi tute. No new principle, for it was old as human nature, but now on a grander, wider, higher, deeper and more world resounding Kcalo. The shepherd boy us u champion for Israel with a sling top pled the giant of Philistiuo braggadocio in tho dust, but here is another David, who for all the armies of churches mili tant and triumphant hurls tho Goliath of perdition into defeat, the crash of his brazen armor like an explosion at Hell Gate. Abraham had at God’s command agreed to sacrifice his son Isaac, and tho same God just in time had provided a ram of the thicket as a substitnte, but there is another Isaac bound to tho al tar, aud no baud arrests the sharp edges of laceration and death, and tho uni verse shivers, a id quakes, aud recoils, aud groans at the horror. All good men have for centuries been trying to tell whom this substitute was like, and every comparison, inspired aud uninspired, evangelistic, prophetic, apostolic and human, fulls short, for Christ was tho Great Unlike. Adam a typo of Christ, because ho came direct ly from God; Noah a typo of Christ, becauso he delivered his own family from dulupe; Melchisedec a type of Christ, because he had no predecessor or successor; Joseph a typo of Christ, because he was cast out by his brethren; Moses a type of Christ, becauso ho was a deliverer from bondage; Joshua a type of Christ, because ho was a con queror; Samson a type of Christ, be cause of his strength to slay the lions and carry off the iron gates of impossi bility; Solomon n type of Christ, in tho affluence of his dominion; Jonah a typo of Christ, because of the stormy sea in which ho threw himself for tho rescue of others, hut put together Adam, and Noah, and Melchisedec, and Joseph, aud Moses, and Joshua, and Batnsou, and Bolomon, aud Jonah, and they would not make a fragment of a Christ, a quarter of a Christ, tho half of a Christ, or tho millionth part of a Christ. Ho forsook n throne and sat down on his own footstool. Ho came from tho top of glory to the bottom of humilia tion aud changed a circumference se raphic for a circumference diabolic. Once waited on by angels, now hissed at by brigands. From afar aud high up ho eamo down; past meteors swifter than they; by starry thrones, himself more lustrous; past larger worlds to smaller worlds; down stairs of firma ments, and from cloud to cloud, and through tree tops aud into tho camel’s stall, to thrust ills shoulder under our burdens ami take the lances of pain through his vitalc, and wrapped himself in all tho agonies which we deserve for our misdoings, and stood on tbo split ting decks of u foundering ves&el, amid tho drenching surf of the sea, and passed midnights on the mountains amid wild beasts of prey, and stood at the point where all earthly and infernal hostili ties charged on him at once with their keen sabers—our Substitute! Tbo Price of Freedom. When did attorney ever endnre so much for a pauper client, or physician for tho patient in tho lazaretto, or mother for tho child in membrunoas croup, as Christ for us, and Christ for you, and Christ for mo? Bhall any man or woman or child in this audience who has ever suffered for another find it hard to understand this Cbristly suffer ing for ns? Bhall those whose sympa thies have been wrung iu behalf of the unfortunate have no appreciation of that one moment which was lifted out of all the ages of eternity as most con- spicnons, when Christ gathered up all the sins of those to be redeemed under his one arm, aud all their sorrows un der his other arm, aud said: “I will atone for these under my right arm and will heal all those under my left arm. Strike mo with all thy glittering shafts, oh, eternal justice! Roll over me with all thy surges, ye oceans of sorrow?" And the thunderbolts struck him from above, and the seas of trouble rolled np from beneath, hurricane after hurri cane, and cyclone after cyclone, aud then aud there 'in presence of heaven [ aud earth and hell—yea, all worlds wit nessing, tho price, tho bitter price, the transcendent price, tho awful price, the glorious price, the infinite price, tbo eternal price, was paid that sets ns free. That is what Paul means, that i;i what I mean, that is wbat all those who have ever had their heart changed mean by “blood.” I glory iu this religion of blood! lam thrilled as I see tho sug gestive color iu fcacramcntal cup, wheth er it be of burnished silver set on cloth immaculately white or rough hewn from wood set on table in log hat meeting house of tho wilderness. Now I am thrilled as I see the altars of ancient sacrifice crimson with the blood of tho slain lamb, and Leviticus is to me not so much the Old Testament as the Now. Now I see why the destroying angel passing over Egypt iu the night scared all those houses that bad blood sprinkled on their doorposts. Now I know what Isaiah means when bespeaks of “one iu red apparel coming with dyed garments from Bozrah, ” and whom tho Apoca lypse means when it describes a heav enly chieftain whoso “vesture was dip ped iu blood,” aud what John, the apostle, means when he speaks of the ‘‘precioas blood that cleausetb from all sin,” and what the old, wornout, de crepit missionary Paul means when, in my text, ho cries, “Without shedding of blood is no remission.” By that blood you aud I will be saved—or never saved at all. In all the ages of the world God has not once pardoned a single sin ex cept through the Saviour’s expiation, and he never will. Glory be to God that the hill back of Jerusalem was the bat tlefield on which Christ achieved our liberty I Palestine's Waterloo. It was a most oxciting day I spent on tho battlefield of Waterloo. Btartiug out with tho morning train from Brussels, wo arrived in about an honr on that famous spot. A son of one who was in tho battle and who had heard from his father a thousand times the whole scene recited accompanied ns over the field. There stood tho old Hongomont chateau, the walls dented and scratched aud broken and shattered by grnpeshot and cannon ball. There is the well in which 800 dying and dead were pitched. There is tho chapel with the head of the infant Christ shot off. There are tho gates at which, for many hours, English aud French armies wres tled. Yonder were tho 100 guns of the English and tho2fi0 guns of the French. Yonder the Hanoverian hussars tied for the woods. Yonder was the ravine of Chain, where the French cavalry, not know ing there was a hollow in tho ground, rolled over and down, troop after troop, tumbling into one awful mass of suffer ing, hoof of kicking horses against brow and breast of captains and colonels and private soldiers, the human aud tho beastly groan kept up until tbo day after all was shoveled under because of tbo mulodor arising iu that hot mouth of Juno. “There,” said our guide, “the high land regiments lay down ontheir faces waiting for the moment to spring upon tho foe. In that orchard 2,500 men were ent to pieces. Here stood Wellington with white lips, and up that knoll rode Marshal Ney on his sixth horse, five having been shot under him. Here the ranks of the French broke, and Marshal Ney, with bis boot slashed of a sword, aud his hat off, and his face covered with powder and blood, tried to rally his troops as he cried, ‘Coc.e and see how a marshal of French dies on tho battlefield.’ From yonder direction Grouchy was expected for tho French re-onforcement, but he came not. Around those woods Blucher was looked for to re-enforce tho English, and just in time ho came up. Yonder is the field where Napoleon stood, his arms through the reins of the horse’s bridle, dazed and insane, trying to go back.” Scene of a battle that went on from 25 min utes to 12 o’clock on tho Ibth of June until 4 o’clock, when tho English seemed defeated, and their commander cried ont: “Boys, yon can’t think of giving way? Remember old England!” and tho tides turned, aud at 8 o’clock in tbo evening the man cf destiny, who was called by his troops Old Two Hun dred Thousand, turned away with bro ken heart. And the fate of centuries was decided. No wonder a great mound has been reared there, hundreds of feet high—a mound at the expense of millions of dol lars and many years in rising, and on the top is the great Belgian lion of bronze, and a grand old lion it is. But our great Waterloo was in Palestine. There came a day when all hell rode up, led by Apollyou, aud tho Captain of our salvation confronted them alone, the Rider on the white horse of the Apocalypse going ont against the black horse cavalry of death and tho bat talions of the demoniac aud the myrmi dons of darkness. From 12 o’clock at noon to 8 o’clock in the afternoon the greatest battle of the universe went on. Eternal destinies wero being decided. All the arrows of hell pierced our Chief tain and the bnttleaxns struck him un til brow and cheek aud shoulder and hand aud foot wero incarnadined with oozing life, but he fought on until ho gave a final stroke with sword from Jehovah's buckler, and the commander in chief of hell aud all his forces fell back in everlasting ruin, aud the vic tory is oars. And on the mound that celebrates the triumph wo plant this day two figures, not iu bronze or iron or sculptured marble, but two figures of living light, the lion of Judah’s tribe ■ud the Lamb that was slain. Pig Sticking. The queen sport of India is wild boar spearing, commonly called pig sticking. This is on horseback, aud the boar often takes the hunt aud the field over snbh a stiff country with so many blind ra vines that accidents are reduced to a certainty. The Bengal boar, being nur tured on sugar caue and other crops, illicitly consumed, is well fed and short tempered. After galloping for a bit at full speed his breath fails him, and he resolves to stop aud fight- Elsewhere the boar, being less fed and in better running condition, goes farther, aud iu some places he will give the field a long run, jnst as a fox does iu England. la all cases the mode of fighting is the same. Tho boar is wounded by spear after spear as tbo well mounted riders come up with him. Then he suddenly stops and “squats,” as tbo phrase goes—that is to say, be turns round, sits on his hind quarters aud faces tho hprsemou with his mighty snout armed with tho protruding tusks. The next step cn either side may depend on various cir cumstances, demanding all the quali ties of the best sportsman, but anyhow there is a crisis. If the boar charges, ho maybe stopped by the horseman’s spear. If that fails, then the horse is probably lost, being ripped up by one twist or turn of tbo tusk. If the horseman, on rolling over, is caught by the hour, then he may bo killed iu tho same way. But that is not likely, becauso tho boar, after ripping up tbe horse, rushes on madly without waiting to deal with the horseman.—London C^ueen. THE KEY ... To health in the aichly sea.^o* la to fortify the System beforehand witli ' PRICKLY ASH BITTERS. It strengthens and regulates the liver, stimulates the Kidneys, tones up the stomach and digestion and cleanses the bowels. PRICE $1.00 PER BOTTLE. Sold by all Druggists. f-fyeherokee Drug Co., Special Agents. & it THE NEW WAY 0 Ft All Cure a Cold in One Day. Take Laxative HrnmnUuinlneTablets. ... druggists refund money |f It falls to « , ur«. •Z5c. The genuine has L. II. q. on e ach tablet. Dul’rc Drug Co. ;i.;t Valuable to Women. Especially valuable to women In Browns Iron Ritters. Backache vanishes, headache disappears, strength takes the place of weakness, and the glow of health readily eonseo to the pallid cheek when this won derful remedy Is taken. For sickly children or overworked men it has no equal. No heme should he without this famous remedy. Brown*’ Iron Bitter* is sold by oil dealers. The Doubting Dean. “I’ve got to see -thef dean at 0, and I’m going to keep myself quite fresh for that outertaiumeut, 1 can tell you. He’s bo deuced sly, looks at you bo meekly over his gig lamps, aud if you areu’t precious sharp ho just turns you inside out iu a braco of shakes. Why, lust term when I missed tho last traiu from Loudou after our old boy’s match he hauled me as soon as I got to Cambridge. ‘Ah, good morning, Mr. Wormald!’ he began. 'I suppose you had a difficulty with your cab horse last night?’ “Almost before I knew what I was up to I’d told him my cab horse fell dowu dead on our way to tho statiou. ‘CuriouK epidemic of death among cab horses, ’ he said, as if talking to him- self. ‘Mr. Barker’s cab horse died yes terday, Mr. Phibson’s died tho day be fore that, and last week Mr. Dods- worth’s cabman fell off his box iu an apoplectic fit. Good morning, Mr. Wormald—good morning. Do try and get a warrantee with your cab horse next time,’ aud tho brute chuckled like a heu over a new egg. I call it ballyrot for a parson to be so ’cute. But I’m go- iug to be even with him. I’m keeping all his hauling uotices, and us soou us I’ve got 52 I'm goiug to have them made into a pack of cards. ‘Mr. Worm- aid, irregular in his attetidauce at chap els, is requested to call on thedeau,’ signed ‘O. P. Viucent, ’ will look well on the back of a full baud at poker. What do you think?”—Grunta. IIK& about your health. Do r.ot allow scrofula taints to develop in your blood. Take Hood's Sarsapa rilla now aud keep yourself WELL. WOMEN v&xf, to think “fe male diseases** could only be treated after c a 1 examina tions” by physi cians. Dread of- such treatment- kept thousands of modest women silent about their suffering. Thein- _ troduction ‘ofc Wine of Cardul has now demon strated that nine-tenths of all the cases of menstrual disorders do not require a physician’s attention at all. The simple, pure »' taken in the privacy of a woman’s own home insures quick relief and speedy cure. Women need rot hesitate now. Wine of Cardui re quires no humiliating examina tions for its adoption. It cures any disease that comes under the head of ‘‘fem^lo troubles”—disordered mensss, falling of the v/orr.b. “whites," change of life. It makes women beautiful by making them we!!. It keeps them young,by keeping them healthy. $1.00 at the drug store. n:c;s, Tenn. VV. I. ALLISON, K.D., Cary, Miss., saysi “I uroWine of Cardul cxtcnrtvely in niy practize and find i: a mest excellent oreuaration for femaio troubles." CLINE BROS. & CO;, Livery Feed and Sale Stables. Opposite National Bank. First-class turnouts; prompt attention; and courteous attendants. J2@'-\Ve solicit your patronage. MARTIN, EDWARDS & HINES, LUMBERMEN, GAFFNEY, - S. C. Al! kinds of lumber cut to order. Goods delivered :it depot or mill on short notice. Satisfaction guaranteed. X X4-tt yrUp The People’s Friend. In use for fifty years. Cures Cough, Cold, Croup, Whooping. Grippe, Bronchitis, Asthma and Lung Affectb DR. BULL’S COUGH SYRUP is sold everywhere for only 25 cents. Refuse cheap substitutes. Chew LANGE'S PLUGS Die Great Tobacco Antidote.lOc. Dealers Of mill. 4 C Meyer A Co.. Balt: .M& IF U WANT BARGENS BUY FOR CASH I SAVE YORE MONEY and cum to the Spot Cash Grocery Store. IT WILL MAKE U LAFF tost- the hargens I hav for u this week. U’ll he sorry if u dont. Respectfully, J. L. ALEXANDER. IF YOU WANT TO BUY iVlnloss, Oxisiiio £nicl JVoid I?*liosphatee Cke CALL ON ■P’ - ‘ 4CL- z, j. i. v N. B.—Oak wood delivered at 75c per load.