Ligonier Banner., Volume 13, Number 49, Ligonier, Noble County, 27 March 1879 — Page 3

Clhe Figonier Banner, J. B. STOLL, Edlto_r and Proprietor. LIGONIER, :.: : ‘INDIANA.

HALF-WITTED PWTTORM. : T THERE may be many alive yet who knew half-witted Guttorm Haldorslia; 'he who built himself a church, a church-yard, - church people and a <lergyman in the pulpit ; he who never harmed any mortal man, but only sat nodding at every one who cams along ; whom one might find, summer and ‘winter, in fair and foul weather, busy with his sanctuary, shoveling away the snow from the graves and putting up new headﬁboar(ﬁs. : , Guttorm was not born half-witted. He was orce as brisk a little fellow as -ever you or I have been. His parents were rarely at home, as they were poor and had to maintain themselves by hiring out, both man and wife. The father was g carpenter and was often -employed outside of the parish ; the mother went from farm to farm, and helped with lbread-making. Guttorm was therefore obliged to stay at home and tgke care of his little sister, who ‘was the apple of the parents’ eyes and very dear to Guttorm, too, He thought nothing too good for her, and ran at her beck for flowers and berries and curious pebbles. 'He built houses and boats for her ; he lay on hands . and feet in the sun and barked and growled like a dog while she sat in.the shade laughing at him, with nothing on buf a little chemise and a pale-red hood. Now he would be horse and creep on all fours with her on his back; now he would carry her in his arms until the, perspiration poured down his forehead, if she was tired and demanded to be carried. He dragged her across the brook or up the kmnoll, sometimes with the feet up and the head down, but al‘ways with the utmost tenderness. And Dolly understood this very well. She allowed her brother to handle her as if she had bBen a bundle, and if he happened to hurt her then she screamed, and he kissed her and patted her and made queer faces for her and told her about the bear and the fox, until she was quiét. : - : Guttorm reaped but little thanks for all his devotion. @ When his mother came home in the evening she always wondered whether he had really been good to bis little sister, and then she pressed her against her bosom and kissed and caressed her. | On Guttorm she never bestowed the, slightest attention; but he took that as a.lnattg_r of course, and was never in the least jealous. And the first. thing he would do in the moraing was to run up to Dolly’s/cradle, almost yearning to have the burden once moreliaid upon his shoulders.

Once, on a fine, sunny day, they were on the banks of the river. Dolly was then large enough to run about by herself. In the river there was a long, smooth sand bottom at the end of which lay a huge stone, where the currentran swift and strong. Guttorm had climbed up on this stone and stood there waving with his cap. - Dolly stood with her feet in the water, lifting up her dress and looking longingly at him. ‘Hallo, Dolly,” he cried. ¢ Now, lam King. Come =along and I will take you on my lap and you may be my Queen.”’ % he Dolly needed not to be told twice. She forded boldly out upon the sand while the current foamed about her knees. When she was close up to the stone and Guttorm stretched himself out to catch hold of her, she lost her foot-hold, fell on the side and the current swept her away. - Guttorm stood as if spell-bound, with wide-dilated eges. But when he saw her speeding down through the rapids, he. gave a heart-rending shriek and plunged into the water atter®her.

~ Then for a while he knew of nothing until®* he found himself lying on the river bank' with half his body in the water. He touched his head and when he looked at his fingers they were bloody; he must have hurt himself when he made the leap. But where was little Dolly? He ?ooked round ahout him but she was nowhere to be séen. Trembling all over and with terrotr in his eyes he began to call her, No one answered. Like a hunted deer he ran down along the stream -calling Dolly. He cut his feet on the sharp stones until they bled; his clothes caught in the bushes and were torn, but he did not feel it. He only ran and ran—ever calling ‘“Dolly!?”” Then suddenly he saw a rag hanging on a low branch and right under something light and _{léllow was mingling with the current. e broke through the underbrush; yes, it was Dolly. A branch had become entangled in her dress; her head was under the water. Her fair yellow hdir, tied up with a pink silk ribbon, floated in the stream like a flower. : ‘When the mother came home late in the évening she did not see the «children playing in the yard as usual. She searched for them, she ran up to the mneighbor’s to inquire, but no one had seen them. She roused the people from their sleep, and ‘they went in search together; for at that time of the year the daylight lasts throughout the 'night. e . It was a little past midnight when the mother came to the place where Dolly had been found. She bent aside

the bushes; thereshe saw Guttorm, pale and with staring eyes, staudini waist. deep in the river and holding the head -of his little sister above the water. Her dress still clung to the branch which had caught it. = i . ‘“zod have mercy-on thee, Guttorm! What hdist thou done?”’ cried the moth--er, quite besidé herself; and she leaped out into the water and caught the child to her bosom. The yery monient it was torn out of Guttorm’s hands, he fell down on the river bank. =~ . : Since that da%antborm was never - himself again. - When' he regained his -consciousness he was lying in bed, and his father was sitting by him. A little black coffin was standin% on a chair ‘close by. There his little sister was lying, he was told, His mother was walking up and down on the floor, €very now and then burstinginto tears. * Later in the day people came and took away the coffin, to bury it in the earth,

as they told him. His- father went with them, and his mother followed them out. When Guttorm saw this he threw himself out of the bed, dressed hastily, and ran after them. Before the father knew it he had caught hold of his hand. Then he lifted him up in his arms and carried him. | i

- The way was long, but Guttorm sat all the while staring at the little black coffin. When they reached the churchyard they found some people gathered there. There were many fine graves with head-stones and crosses, and the minister was standix:F ‘there in his long black gown, and both within the church and outside voices were singing. The coffin was lowered down into the ground, and the minister cast earth upon it. Then there was more singing, and at last all went away. Guttorm stared before him with open mouth, and as they went still gazed back toward the church-yard gate. *¢ Will Dolly never more come back to us, now?”’ he whispered in his father's ear. )

‘¢ Oh, yes, she will surely come back some time,”’ answered the father. And nothing more was said. P For a long time after that Guttorm never spoke aloud. They saw him walking about, shaking his head and talking low to himself. The father had obtained work in the neighborhood, and was thus able to look after him. Both he and the mother treated Guttorm with forbearance; a great gentleiw‘ss had come over both of them of ate.

One day, Guttorm had climbed upon the. great bowlder in the river, and there he stood and talked. This he repeated day after day, until at last the father brought some neighbors with him and they rolled the bowlder away. Another time he did not return for his meals, and the father, aﬁ;eﬁe a long search, found him again in tiffe river, standing under the bush which had caught Dolly’s dress. He had waded out into the water, and stood as if still holding her head above the current. As he caught sight of his father he gave a’'start and cried out: ‘lt wasn’t I who got little sister out into the river.” : ‘L know that well enough,’’ answered the father quietly, pulling out his knife and beginning to cut down the bush. But all of a sudden Guttorm leaped up and rushed against him like a wild beast, beating -him with clenched fists. The father had all he could do to keep him at arm’s length. . ‘‘ You surely know that Dolly is asleep in the earth, so she can no more be here,” he said. :

Then Guttorm grew calmer. ¢ Dolly asleep in the earth—Dolly asleep in the ea.rth‘e” he kept muttering to himself. ‘“But will she then never return?”’ he added after a while, with an anxious glance at his father. “Oh, 'yes, she will surely return some time,’”” answered he, as before, ‘“and then you will take care of her again, Guttorm.” : ¢ Will you let me take care of her?”’ asked the boy. = ‘ ‘“Yes, you are the one to do it.”’ Guttorm nodded with his head as if he were thinking. ' “Dolly asleep in the earth,” he Whis%)eredl ‘“Dolly is coming back—and I shall take care of her again.’’ He made a somersault and laughed. The father took him by the hand and led him home, but he did not cut down the bush. The next day Guttorm rose early. All. night long he had been heard talking contentedly with himself. lHe ran up toward a pine grove close |to the highway, carryinf with him a'spade and a pickax, and fell to work with a. will. He rolled stones together; he tore up the turf, 'and piled+it up in small hills. It seemed incredible that such strength could dwell in him, small as he was. No one had any idea what he meant to do. If he was asked he only laughed shrewdly. The grove was worth very little, so the owner left him in peace to amuse himself as he liked. His father was happy, because this new labor took him so far away from the river. Little by little Guttorm’s intention revealed itself. He was building a church and a churchyard. The church was built as nearly as possible like the great church where he had seen Dolly buried, and the graves round about were similarly placed and adorned with white and brown headstones, just as he had seen them on that Sunday. Inside of the wall, just under the great, window in the nave, was Dolly’s grave. He had adorned it in a very fantastic way with flowers, pine-cones, shells and small pieces of boards which he had carved into figures. There he sat always when he rested from his labor cr when his food was brought to him. One day he went into the huckster’s store and looked about him. :

‘ What is it you want to-day, Guttorm?’’ asked the huckster, kindly. Guttorm laughed, and pointed to a shelf where some colored ribbons were lying. ¢¢ Ribbons for Dolly,” he said. The huckster cut off a small piece of #bon and gave it to him, He caught it up eagerly, flung a shilling.on the ‘counter, and ran away as if a mad do, were at his heels. The huckster calleﬁ after him that he had faid too much; but he only ran the faster. He was afraid some one might take his prolll)-’ erty away from him. The ribbon he bound around a smiall cross:which he had made. She had had such a ribbon in' her braid when he saw her last. The cross he planted on her grave, and watched it as if it had been of gold. If the weather was wet, he wrapped it in a pillow-case, lest it should be injured. Guttorm had to labor and toil for many years before he got his little church and his church-yard in com(FleteA order. The parish Ipeople pitied the poor, good-natured lad, and gave him many a lift now and then. i houseman had even made him a miinister with a black-painted aEown, who stood in the pulpif, and gradually he alsogot together a congregation, both men and women, who sat scattered about in the POWES . onvone ik fabim oy

In the course of time . this place of Guttorm’s became known far and wide, and all travelers who came through the valley had to stop to see his church-yard.. And never was Guttorm hagpier than when they praised his church and thought it

was very fine. 'Then his whole countenance beamed. But. he never would ‘accept money; if they urged him, he E;t ‘his hands behind him and shook is head. If, however, some one whisdered to him, ‘lt is for Dolly, when she comes back,”’ then he looked long and wonderingly before him, took the money and hig it. The drivers from the horse-stations were. soon informed of this, and they never neglected to tell the travelers about Guttorm, and thus it happened from year to year many shillinés was collécted for Dolly. This money Guttorm gave every evening to his mother, and begged her keep it for Dolly. The father could thus afford to letGuttorm have his own way, as he contributed much more to the household in this manner than he could have done by running errands for people or doing small jobs. A happier boy than Guttorm was one could hardly imagine. He went about busying himself among his graves; if he was tired he sat down in a pew next to some wooden doll, took off his cap, and gazed with devotion at his painted minister; or he sat at Dolly’s grave, waiting for her return. One would be sure to find him there early and late, rain or shine, and even in a snowstorm. The parish folk would often stop to have a chat with him, and ask him if Dolly had not come yet. Then Guttorm would place his fingers on his mouth, and look about him with an anxious gaze, and whisper, pointing to the grave: “Dolly is asleep—she will come back—l must take care of Dolly, father says.”” - ; ;

This was always his answer, whenever he was asked. s One sunny day when | the summer was far advanced, Guttorm had run home to get his dinner, and on returning, remained standing at the churchyard gate, quite bewildered. There sat Dolly, large as life, on her grave. She had still the pink silk ribbon in her braids, and the same yellow hair. He stood for awhile staring, with open mouth; then he laid himself down, Fike a cat which sees a bird it would like to catch, and crept warily forward, hiding behind the hillocks. Dolly did not see him; she sat playing with some shells and snail-houses which she had picked up on the grave. All of a sudden, the half-witted lad rose up in front of her with five outstretched fingers resting on each knee, staring into her eyes and laughing mightily. The child gave a scream, dropped its playthings, and hurried out through the gate. Guttorm looked crest-fallen after her; then followed her down upon the highway. The girl was too small to get along very fast; but Guttorm had clumsy wooden shoes on, and it took some time before he caught up with her. ' When she saw the simpleton pursuing her, she gave 4 shriek; a man upon the meadow threw away his scythe and came running down. He caught the child in his arms, and with one hand grasped Guttorm’s coat and shook him. ¢You nearly frightened the child to death,’”” he said, fiercely, flinging Guttorm straight against the wooden fence with such force that every bone in him seemed on the point of breaking. Then he walked with the little girl up the hill, toward the redpainted farm. Thbe child was trembling, and-laid its arms close about his neck. : . Guttorm remained for a while standing on the road, and gazed about him. Presently he went up to the fine, whitepainted gateway, pressed his face against it, and stared up toward the farm. Ashe did not come home toward evening, his father began to grow anxious. Such a thing had not happened for many a year. He went out to look for him, seeking him firstat the churchyard, but without finding him. He then hastened to ‘the neighboring farm, where he found the boy still standing with his face pressed against the gate. ; ¢“ Are you here, Guttorm?’’ asked his father. : .

Guttorn looked at him timidly. ' The father saw that there was something which he did not wish to tell, anc therefore did not ask further. The boy followed him willingly homeward. The next morning, as the father arose, Guttorm had already gone. The father hurried out, ant%, after some search, again found him standing at the gate of the farm, exactly as on the night before. ‘ _ ‘“ What does this mean, Guttorm?”’ inquired the father. i

Guttorm beckoned to him to come nearer, then whispered in his ear: “Dolly has come. She is up there on the farm. She did not know me.” He smiled as he said this, but his eyes were large and full of tears. ‘“They have a little girl up there on the farm who has yellow hair,” answered the father. ¢ But your Dolly, you know, is asleep in the churchyard. You must go and keep watch over her, or she might come while you are gone.”’ ; - So saying, the father took hold of him and dra.%'ged him along; but Guttorm struggled, turning his eyes ever toward the red-painted farm-house. -“Dolly is no more in the grave,” he stammered. ¢¢ The ribbon is gone. The ribbon was in her hair.”” 2 ; That day Guttorm sat sadly and silently in his church-yard; he was unable to do anything, and Dolly no mniore returned to him.' The nextday, however, he: ventured ont through the turnstile and walkeéd half way up toward the farm. There he stood peeping into the yard until the harvest men came from the fields, and among them the man who had shaken him. bt

*“ What is it you are lying in wait for here?”’ hecried tohim. ¢ %ou had better take to your heels, or 1 might be after you.”’ ; Guttorm bounded down the hill and the harvesters langhed. : For two days he only ventured to stroll timidly about in the neighborf hood; but the third day he walked fearlessly up the I‘lvifhwair. He carried a saucer filled with blueberries in his gaﬁds. The housewife met him in the all. : “ Wedon’t want to buy berries here, to-day,” she said. A : ~ “Don’t want to sell,”” answered Guttorm. . “ Want to give them to Don¥.” 2 au T ““There is no Dolly here,” Yeplied the housewife. o e Just then some one opened the door,

‘and through the opening Guttorm saw Dolly standing in the middle 'of the ‘room. : ‘‘ There is Dolly!’ he cried, beaming gith delight a.n! rushing toward the gor. | .| 5 ; ¢ Wait a while,”” said the woman, ‘taking tho saucer with the berries, and \ goin§. in ahead. ‘ ' . ‘‘Some one has come here with berries for you,” she said to her little ~daughter. ¢ Here, go out and give two cents to the little boy and thank him.” ' The little girl hid herself with a scared look behind her mother’s petticoat, while Guttorm stood with flashing eyes on the threshold; he dared not advance any further. . | ““Shall I Eo with you?’ asked her mother, as she emptied the saucer and took out a couple of pennies from her pocket. ¢« Give the pennies to the boy," she said. . The little girl did as she was bidden, but Guttorm: put his hands behind him and refused to sake the money. - 9No dpemgies,” he said, and, taking sud enlg hold of the little hand, patted it and gave a joyful shout. The girl began to scream and buried her face in her mother's dress. ‘“Now you had better go,” said the mother. “You have frightened her. She does not know any better, you see. Here is your saucer.”” Guttorm dragged himself slowly away, and turned once more in the door. When he was down in fhe road he saw Dolly standing at the window. He nodded to her a:ng she immediately ran away. ; Some days later when it was dark and the great logs crackled on the hearth, the little girl suddenly saw a pale face pressed almost flat against the window-pane. She shrieked out with terror and immediately the face was gone. It was Guttorm who had climbed up on the garden fence and was peeping in. i e 4

Again sume days passed.' Then the housewife looking out through the window saw some one approaching. ““Good gracious!” she cried; ‘‘there is -the half-witted boy again. And only look how he has decked himself out, with flowers in his cap and in all his: button-holes, and with. his hands full of flowers. Hark now, Peer,”’ she went on, addressing her husband. “You will have to frighten him so thoroughly that he will not come back again; for we can’t have him running here every day. Little Kari is so afraid of him she hardly ventures to go out into the yard any more.”” Peer took his rifle from the wall and went out. Guttorm came rushing straight toward him, holding on to his flowers with both hands. _ ¢ What do you want, boy?”’ said the man, making his voice as fierce as he could. Gyl ‘“ Flowers—for Dolly,” answered Guttorm, holding out his bouquets of field flowers as if inviting” him to admire them. ‘ A ‘“Don’t you know that we have loaded guns ﬂere on the farm?” said the man, lifting his rifle as if to take aim. - Guttorm made a leap down the hill. The man fired into the air; Guttorm ran still faster, so thut the pebbles flew about him. ' : ;

When he had reached the highway, he dropped down breathless. He stared up toward the farm, and two big tears rolled down over his cheeks. His paradise was closed to him. After that day Guttorm never went to the farm; but faithfully, like a dog, he sat down on the road and watched whether he could not casch a glimpse of Dolly when she went out. Then hefollowed her, but always at a long distance. . If she happened to look back, he nodded to her; and smiled and made strange grimaces. But Dolly never heeded him. I If little Kari went to any of the neighboring farms, or if she went into the woods with her playmates to! pick berries, Guttorm was sure not to be very far off. He always stood at some disfance and watched their games. He never spoke to them, or offered tb take part; but whenever his ¢ Dolly” jumped or laughed, he too would laugh aloud with delight. Some of the more courageous among them sometimes threatened him with their sticks, and those who wanted to gain the special favor of ¢¢Dolly’”’ threw stones and tufts of moss after him. And the rest laughed, if any one hit him. Guttorm never allowed himself to be in the least disturbed, but would only gaze at them, and sometimes point out places to them where the berries grew thickly. - i : - Children may be malicious without themselves knowing, it. They at la.st_‘ grew tired of having Guttorm always at their heels, wherever they went, and the elder ones, who had ‘charge of Kari, said to her: ¢ Come, let us gox and tear down his church; then he will have something else to do than to be forever running after us.”’ G When Guttorm, the next day, came to his church-yard, he saw the ruin they -had wrought. The tower had been torn down, the clergyman lay prostrate, the congregation_ scattered about on the floor and the pews weret broken to pieces. Outon the churchyard, many of the Iread-stones were torn lip and overturned. = Guttorm stood for awhile as if thunderstruck; then he gave a shriek like a wild beast, lifted up a large stone and hurled it away over the fields. He tore his hair, and threw himself down in the sand. -

‘When he arose, his face was quite changed. The gentle, good-humored exrrassion was gone; his: eyes were wild and evil; he yearned for revenge —only reven%e. Zle remained lying in wait all that day, expecting that those who ‘had wrought' this = destruction would return to c‘omdplete their ‘work. But no one appeared. Day after day he lay hidden, and rarely even went home for his meals; yet no one appeared. On the third day, his father came and forced him to go to eat his dinner. He tried to comfort him, saying that they would soon repair all the dama%e, and make it as fine as it ‘had been before. But Guttorm refused to be comforted. He had hardly swallowed his food when alﬁa.in he started out. He stopped s_uide { as he came up to the fence, for his sharp ear had perceived that' some one was moving about in the church-yard. It was three little boys, whe had brought Dolly

along to show what at things they had gone. Guttorm F&rl?i himsel%s'down flat upon the fround, and crept noiselessly forward, like a snake. He caught sight of two of the boys, who were already hard at work. He had a stone in his hand, and when he saw them breaking to pieces the cross on Dolly’s grave and digging up the earth, he hurled the stone at them with all his strength. Then a scream was heard; he knew that he had hit. With three leaps he was in their midst, and was about to rush against his adversary, when suddenly he sauw—Dolly. There she lay, pale and motionless. The blood 'was running from a wound in her head, and dripping from her red silk ribbon. Guttorm struck his hands against his face, then gave a heartrending shriek, and ran panting down through forest and fields toward the river. .

That night Guttorm did not return home. His father sent messengers to all the farms around, but no one had seen him. He’ gut-hered his neighbors together, and they searched far and wide without any result. Then the father suddenly remémbered the shrub. at the river, which. Guttorm had not allowed him to cut down, and with, a heart full of fear he hastened thither. There lay Guttorm-—dead. His hair was entangled in the twigs of the bush; the body itself lay out in the river. The next day came little Kari's father, to complain of Guttorm; hehad cut a large hole in the head of his little girl. It wasn’t dangerous, to be sure, but he must make an end of this persecution. e ““He will not trouble you any more now,’’ said the father, as he lifted the sheet from the pale, unhappy face. - The man went; but the father stood long looking at his son. ¢ They will be kinder to him ug there,”’ he murmured. ‘‘Now he has found his own Dolly.” i : ‘o Weeping silently, he drew the sheet again over the dead face.—Kristofer Janson, in Scribner’s Monthly. Immigration Statistics. THE Chief of the Bureau of Statistics furnishes the following summary of the official returns of immigration into the United States: During the calendar year 1878 there arrived at the several ports of the United States 209,254 passengers, of whom 153,207 were immigrants. During the calendar year 1877 the total arrivals of passengers were 190,361, of whom 130,503 were. immigrants, showing an increase of 22,704 in the number of immi%rants, or about 17 per cent. The following particulars are furnished with respect to the immigrants who arrived during the calendar year 1878: The ages ‘were: Under 15 years, 29,685; 15 and ‘under 40, 104,058 ; 40' years and upward, 19,464. There were 94,651 males )and 58,666 females. The occupations were : Professional, 1,516 ; skilled, ‘ 16,837 ; not specified, 631 ; without occupations (mainly women and chil‘dren), 72,121. The countries of last permanent residence or -citizenship \were as follows : Erlxxﬁland, 19,581 ; -Ireland, 17,113 ; Scotland, 3,700 ; Great Britain (not specified), 1; Wales, 311 ; Germany, 31,958; - Austria, 4,881; Hungary, 632; Sweden, 6,176 ; Norway, 5,216 ; Denmark, 2,688 ; Netherlands, 652; Belgium, 454; Switzerland, 2,051; France, 4,668; Italy, 5,163 ; Sicily, 228 ; Greece, 13 ; Spain, 432 ; Portugal, 648; Russia, 4,216; Poland, 554 ; Finland, 22; Turkey in Europe, 23; Syria, 88; India, 9; China, 8,468 ; South Africa, 7 ; Africa (not specified), 4; Quebec and Ontario, 24,553 ; Nova Scotia, 3,282; New Brunswick, 1,458 ; Prince Edward Island, ' 349 ; Newfoundland, 108 ; British Columbia, 372%; Mexico, 473; British Honduras, 4; Central America, 14; United States of Colombia, 7; Vénezuela, 16 ; Brazil, 11; Peru, 17; South America (not speciﬁed%i. 10; Cuba, 494 ; Porto Rico, 13; Hayti, 4; Jamaica, 34 ; Bahamas, 289 ; Barbadoes, 22 ; St.. Croix, 11; St. Thomas, 18; Trinidad, 7; West Indies (not specified), 31 ; Azores, 873; Cape Verdes, 6 ; Bermudas, 13; Iceland, 168 ; Australia, 634 ; all other countries, 14. During the year 1878 fifteen children .were born on the voyage, and the number of deaths was 71.—Chicago InterOcean. i 3

Billingsisms, THE greatest heroes the world has ever produced have been those who have done the most good in it. , I believe laziness is the cause of more misery in this world than gickness is, but I can’t prove it. _ Those people who don’t think there is any honesty in the world have been studying themselves too closely. : Ingratitude is as mean as it is common, and the ungrateful man can’t tell how long it will be before he will be a malicious one. 4 ; . If a man is polite and honest he is well-bred, I don’t care whether he had an% ancestors or not. : he flatterer has been called .all kinds of bad names, but if there was no demand for flattery there would be no flatterers. . 4 L Good sense is like truth—the same now that it was when the first man walked on the face of the earth, 1 have always roticed that those folks who know the most are the best listeners, and the most anxious to know more. - : : it A man of great genius is not always a man of good judgment; he frequently unites grand truths and grang mistakes without knowing it. - .~ 'We all of us love to be praised, and L think those who deserve it the mostappreciate it the most. . w ~ You will always consider that when a man is anxious to tell the truth, he uses the simplest language: possible; words of three syllables or more seem: to l;la;ve‘been made on purpose to lie with. o ' Better leave your child a good character to imitate and defend than Government bonds and ;pedgr;ge,‘ Lk Lying is the most défficult habit to get rid of. Tt seems to be composed of vanity und impudence, with malice. -sometimes added; the very worst traits in human. character, to correct.—Josh Billings, in N. Y. Weekly. =~ =~

~¢ Mischief, thou .art a foot! exclaimed the man of many corns. = . °,

Religious’ PSALM XLUII. . . O LoD my God, be Thou the Judge : And nlegd my cause for me, _ . : .From wicked and from nnjust'men ..My soul deliyer free. e ~ - For of my strength Thou art the Lord; Why cast off am I so, i ; By foes annoyed, thus sore dismayed, : Why do I !,n’onrn_mg‘go.? g Tolead me send Thy trath and light, As guidance on the way, fe {7 ‘That from Thy high and holy place i . My footsteps sh,a.ll not stray. 2 ' Thento the altarof my God 3 "~ - _Bhalll m%oimngqpeed‘.‘j R With harp s praise Him, and withsong, : For He is God:indeed. < 3 Say, O my soul, why cast down thus Art thou within breast? Sges E What are the fea.rsntlgat‘thee o’ercome And will not let thee rest? - : ~ Trustin God’s love, for yet shall I His praises gladly sing; . Who grants me health and bids me live— : My God, my hope, my Kinﬁ,; ; i —N., Y. Witness. Slmday-Schoﬂ Lessons. - L FIRST QUARTER. G Mar. 30—Review, or lesson selected by the school. SECOND QUARTER: : April B—Sanctified Afliction......Job 83:14-30 Apri]l 13—Prosperity Restored. .....Job 42: 1-10 April 207$‘ueen Esther......... Esther 4:10-17 Avpril 27—The Coming Savior......lsa. 42: 1-10 May 4—The Suﬁ‘erin%Savior; ....Isa. 53: 1-12 May 11—The Savior’sCall.........lsa. 55: 1-11 May 18—TheSavior'sKingdom.Micah. 1: 4- 8 May 25—Holy Spirit Promised.... Joel 2:28-32 June. é:ProPhecy %ainst'Tyre..Ezek. 26: 7-14 June Valley. of ?' Boties..nzek.ﬁa'i: 1-10 June 15—Need of God’s %p rit..Zech. 4: 1-14 June 22—Consecration to G0d.....Ma1. 3: 8-18 J une 29—Review, or lesson selected by the school.

Conversion of a Famous Minstrel Man. THE Bereau Baptist Church was the scene to-day of the mustering-in of ex- ‘“ Senator’’ Bob Hart as & soﬁie}r,of the. cross. James M. Sutherland, known to the theatrical world as ‘“Bob Hart,” was baptized at noon by the Rev. John Quincy Adams. The church was crowded, in anticipation of the baptism of the minstrel. The ¢ Senator’’ looked supremely happy as he grasped the clergyman’s hand, . and~ when he emerged from the water there was a sparkle in his eye which spoke in unmistakable _la.gFuagq" of his religious .enthusiasm. ~ Had the place been other than a church, the great congregation would have broken forth in a burst of applause. There is probably no man in this city better known to the general public than ¢“ Senator’’ Bob Hart. He is forty-seven years of age, and for-twenty-three years has been before the world in the character of a 'stump orator in -the minstrel hall. His .life has been one of dissipation and excitement. The whisky which inspired-at first demoralized at last.. He lost engagements because he was not reliable, and was fast descending to utter disgrace when the hand of Christ, as he says, was stretched forth to save him. Mr. Adams described the rescue of Bob Hart: ‘¢ Four weeks ago Sutherland was returning to Hackensack.. He had been: on a spree, and “was drunk at the time. Some person in the car told him Billy Dwyer had signed the pledge. The intelligence sobered him. He said to himself: ¢ If DW{;l‘ can reform, there 18 hope for me.’ ' He determined to reform then and there. It was a terrible struggle with the whisky in his system, but, with the aid of his wife, he fought ‘it out. He hunted up Dwyer, went with him to Evans’ temperance mgeting, and signed the pledge. From that moment he began to seck ‘salvation, and, on the next Friday afternoon, was clearly converted. The transformation of the man was complete. He has renounced the stage, and is going to devote himself to the Gospel ministry. He will make & great clergyman. He hags the gift of clothing his thoughts in language, and ail he needs is preparatorg study., He is the happiest man to-day I ever saw, and I believe he will make one of the most successful ministers this.country has produced.””—Re-~ cent New York Special to Chicago Tribe s S e

- A Living Faith in God. Bur the greatest and best thing a garent can do for a child is to'give it & 'vi:f faith in the existence of a personal God and' a sense of a personal responsibility to Him. This is to make our children truly religious. Evil cannot be vanquished by any negative power; there must be something as real, butstronger, behind and above. ‘““We must have a God to fall back upon.”” We want more than the flashes and glimpses of goodness, an idea, a shadow of holiness and perfection. Sin does not need to be made too real to a child: Tl(iat fqrces it’lselfbop' hirg very soon and.very surely; but goo dolcg,meed to be nﬁe‘ rea.l,ya.nd afﬁhe precepts we instil, the actions we enforce, are faint, imperfect expressions of the will of a .Supreme Being, to whom the child is akin by every noble, ‘yirtuous impulsé and h‘i’f‘h pfomsting it knows. "But the usual points dwelt upon are -the . omniscience, omnipresence and almighty. goWer of God—physical attributes which oppress and . appal the child’s mind. It is perglexed, by the physical tests which these things force it to apply to the idea of God, without being impressed as if all the giants and magicians. it ever read of were rolled into one. . But there is no erplexity in the spiritual wonders -of Emﬁs. infinite. goodness and endless power of spiritual greatness; ne spiritual horizon ever seems too vast for a child’s ,imé.fination, no tale of spiritual help and strength given, and deed of self-sacrifice inspired by God’s spirit, too wonderful for.its credence. It is better, t»oo,rt to otfach. u%h;m ;glﬁaa'.g fﬁi igion is & part of every day—that all '%llgi's are Ggfd"s';' and ’tgi'le’é-fheir re-’ lig¥ou" is eri'istallized into formal acts, the more likely it 'is “to 'be ' a diving | faith. ‘“ We must be sure that they be~ lieve, not ms_relg in a church and ordinances of worsk ’?‘(-;"hm? ‘merely in this ‘dogma ‘or that' G‘oﬁim,:ﬁuﬁin*i per- / sonal and living God whose llghsii%‘h*m -every man that comes into the world.”” —Detrost Free Press, .. =

- —*“But you know, pa,” 'said the farmer’s daughter, when he: spoke to _her about the addresses of his neighbor’s son—* you .know, pa, that ma wants me to marry a mah of culture.” '¢«So do I, my déar-so do I;and there’s -n0 better culture in :the ' country than agriculture,” Nt ey )