Pike County Democrat, Volume 24, Number 27, Petersburg, Pike County, 17 November 1893 — Page 7

OBLIVION’S DEFEATS. Rav. T. DeWltt Talmage Speaks Words of Consolation. The Kljfhteou* Will Not be ForEOtten— Oblivion Has No Terrors for Those Who Love and Serve the Lord. The following sermon on “Oblivion and Its Defeats” was delivered by Rev. T. DeWitt Talmage in the Brooklyn tabernacle, the text being: The righteous shall be in everlasting remem - brance.—Psalms, cxli., ft Oblivion, and Its Defeats, is my subject to-day. There is an old monster that swallows down everything. It crunches individuals, families, communities, states,™ nations, continents, hemispheres, worlds. Its diet is made up of years, of centuries, of ages, of cycles, of milleniums, of icons. That monster is called by Noah Webster and all the other dictionaries, oblivion. It is a steep down which everything rolls. It is a conflagration in which everything is consumed It isca dirge in which all orchestras play, and a period at which everything stops. It is the cemetery of the human race. It is the domain of forgetfulness. Oblivion'. At times it throws tr shadow over all of us, and I would not pronounce it today if I did not come armed in the strength of the eternal God on your behalf to attack it, to rout it, to demolish it. In some old family record a descen- \ dant studying up the ancestral line vmay spell out our name, and from the ^nearly faded ink, with great effort, find that some person by our name was born somewhere between 1S10, and 18SK), but they will know no more about us than we knowiabout the color of a child's eyes born last night in a village in Patagonia. Tell me something about your great-grandfather. What were his features? What did he do? What year was he born? What year did he die? And youy great-grand-mother. Will you describe the style of the hat she wore, and how did she and your great-grandfather get on in.leach other’s companionship? Was it March weather or June? Oblivion! That mountain surge rolls over everything. Kven the pyramids tare dying. Not a day passes but there is chiseled off a chip off that granite. The sea is triumphing over the land, and what is going on at s Coney Island is going on all around the world, and the continents are all crumbling into the waves. And while this is transpiring on the outside of the world, the hot chisel of the internal fire is digging under the foundation of the earth and cutting its way toward the surface. It surprises me to hear people say they do not think the world will finally be burned up, when nil scientists will tell you that it has for ages been on fire. Why, there is only a crust between us and the furnaces inside raging to get out. Oblivion! The! world itself will roll into it as easily as a schoolboy’s india rubber ball rolls down a hill; and when our world goes, it is so interlocked by the law of gravitation with other worlds that they will go too, and so far from having our memory perpetuated by a? monument of Aberdeen granite in this world, there is no World in sight of our strongest telescope that will be a sure pediment for any slab of commemoration.of the fact that we ever lived or died at all. Our birth is struck with death. The axle-tree of the constellations will break and let down the pop

uiiiuun;% ui wtuer wunus. oceiuir, lunar, solar mortality. Oblivion! It can swallow and will swallow whole galaxies of worlds as easily as a erocadile takes down a frog. Yet oblivion does not remove or swallow anything that had better not be removed or swallowed. The, old monster is welcome to his meal. This world would long ago have been overcrowded if not for the merciful removal of nations and generations. What if all the books had lived that were ever written and printed and published. The libraries would by their immensity have obstructed intelligence and made all research impossible. The fatal epidemic of books was a merciful epidemic. Many of the state and national libraries of to-day are only morgues in which dead books are waiting for some one to co me and recognize them. What if all the people that had been born were still alive? we would "have been elbowed by our ancestors of ten centuries ago, and people who ought to have said their last words three thousand years ago, would snarl at us, saying: “What are you doing here?” There would have been no room to turn around. Some of the past generations of mankind were not worth remembering. The useful thing that many people did was to flie; their cradle a misfortune and their grave a boon. This world was hardly a comfortable place to live in before the middle of the last century. So many things have come into the world that were not fit to stay in, we ought to be glad they were put out. The waters of Lethe, the fountain of forgetfulness, are a healthful draught. The history we have of the world in ages past is always one-sided and can not be depended on. History is fiction illustrated by a few stragling facts. In all the Pantheon, the weakest god is Clio, the goddess of history, and instead of being represented by sculptors as holding a scroll, might better be represented as limping on crutches. Faithful history is the saving of a few things out of more things lost. The immortality that conies from pomp of obsequies, or granite shaft," or building named after its founder, or page of recognition in some encyclopedia is an immortality unworthy of one’s ambition, for it will eease, and is no immortality at all. A hundred years. Hut while I recognize this universal submergence of things earthly, who wants to be forgotten? Not one of us. Absent for a few weeks or months from home, it iheers us to know that we are retnexn-,

be red there. It is a phraze we have all pronounced: “I ‘hope you missed me.” Meeting some friends from whom we hare parted many years, we inquire: “Did you ever see me before?” and they say: “Yes,” and call us , by name, and we feel a delightful sensation thrilling through their hand into, our hand, and running up from elbow to shoulder, and then parting, the one current of delight ascending to the brow and the other descending to the foot, moving round and round in concentric cir- j cles until every nerve and muscle and ! capacity of body and mind and soul is permeated with delight. A few days ! ago, visiting the place of my boyhood, I met one whom 1 had not seen since we played together at sixten years of age, and I had peculiar pleasure in puzzling him a little as to who I was, and I can hardly describe the sensation, | as, after awhile, he stumbled out: “Let me see. Yes, you are De Witt.” We all like to be remembered. Now, I have to tell you that this oblivion of which I have spoken has its defeats, and that there is no more reason why we should not he distinctly and vividly and gloriously remembered five hundred million billion trillion quadrillion quintillion years from now, than that we should be remembered six weeks? I am going to tell you how the thing can be done and will be j done. We may build this “everlasting remembrance,” as my text styles it, into the supernal existence of those to whom we do kindnesses in this world. You must remember that this infirm and treacherous faculty which we now call memory is in the future state to be :omplete and perfect. "Everlasting remembrance!” Nothing will $l^p the stout grip of that celestial faculty. Pid you help a widow pay her rent? Did you find for that man released from prison a place to get honest work? Pid you pick up a,child, fallen on the curbstone, 'and, by a stick of candy put in its hand, stop the hurt on its scratched knee? Pid you assure a business man, swamped by the stringency .of tjie money market, that tubes would after awhile be better? Pid you lead a Magdalen of the street into a midnight mission, where the Lord said to her: "Neither do I condemn thee. Go, and sin no more!” Pid you tell a man, clear discouraged in his waywardness, and hopeless and plotting suicide, that for him near by was a laver in which he might wash, and a coronet of eternal blessedness he might wear? What are epitaphs in graveyards, what are eulogiums in presence of those whose breath is in their nostrils, what are unread biographies in the alcoves of a city library, compared with the imperishable records yon have made in the illumed memories of those to whom you did such kindnesses? Forget them? They can not forget them. Notwithstanding all their might and splendor, there arc many things the glorified of Heaven can not do and this is one of them. They can not forget an earthly kindness, done. They have no cutlass to part that cable. They have no strength to hurl into oblivion that benefaction. Has Paul forgotten the inhabitants of Malta, who extended the island hospitality when he and others with him had felt, added to a shipwreck, the drenching rain and the sharp cold? Has the victim of the highwayman on the road to Jericho forgotten the good Samaritan with a medicament of oil and wine and a free ride to the hostelry? Have the English soldiers who went up to God from the Crimean battlefields forgotten Florence Nightingale? Through all eternity will the northern and southern soldiers forget the northern and southern women who administered to the dying boys in blue and gray after the awful fights in Tennessee and Pennsylvania and Virginia and Georgia, which turned every house and barn and shed into a hospital and incarnadined the Susquehanna and the James and the Chattahoochee and the Savannah with brave blood? The kindnesses you do toothers will stand aslong in the, appreciation of others as the gates of Heaven will stand, as the “House of Many Mansions" will stand, as long as the throne

□ Another defeat of oblivion will be found in the character of those whom we rescue, uplift or save. Character is eternal. Suppose by a right influence we aid in transforming a bad man into a good man, a disheartened man into a courageous man, every stroke of that work done will be immortalized. There may never be so much as oue line in a newspaper regarding it, or no mortal tongue may ever whisper it into human ear, but whexever that soul shall go, your work upon it shall go; wherever that soul rises, your work on it will rise, and so long as that soul will last, your work on it will last. Do you suppose there will ever come such an idiotic lapse in the history of tlnrtsoul in Heaven that it shallr^forget that you invited him to Chr,fst. /jAhat you, by prayer or Gospel wofcdyH&rfied him round from the wrongvs^ay to the right way? No such insanity will ever smite a Heavenly citizen. It is not half as well on earth known that Christopher Wren planned and built St. Paul’s, as it will be known in all Heaven that you were the instrumentality of building a temple for the sky. We teach a Sabbath class, or put a Christian tract in the hand' of a passer-by, or testify for Christ in a prayer-meeting, or preach a sermon, and go home discouraged, as though nothing had been accomplished when we had been character-building with a material that no frost or earthquake or rolling of the centuries can damage or bring down. There is no sublimer art cn earth than architecture. With pencil and rule and compass, the architect sits down alone and in silence, and evolves from his own brain a cathedral jr a national capitol or a massive home before he leaves the table, and then he joes out and unrolls his plans, and calls, carpenters and masons and artisans of ill«sorts to execute his design, and when it is finished he walks around the rash structure, and sees the completion

of the work with high satisfaction, and on a stone at some corner of the building the architect's name may be chiseled. But the storms do their work, and time, that takes down everything, will yet take down that structure, until there shall not be one stone left upon another. But there is a soul in Heaven. Through your instrumentality it was put there. Under God’s grace you are the architect of its eternal happiness. Your name is written, not on one corner of its nature, but inwrought into its every fiber and energy. Will the storms of winter wash out the story of what you have wrought upon that spiritual structure? No. There are no storms in that land and there is no winter. Will time wear out the inscription which shows your fidelity? No. Time is past, and it is an Everlasting Now. Built into1 the foundation of that imperishable structure, built into its pillars, built into its capstone is your name, either the name you have on earth. or the name by which celestials shall call you. I know the Bible says in one place that God is a jealous God, but that refers to the work of those who worship some OjjSer god. A true father is not jealous of his child. With what glee you show the ‘picture your child penciled, or a toy ship your child hewed out, or recite the noble deed your child accomplished, and God never was jealous of a Joshua, never was jealous of a Paul, never was jealous of a Frances Havergal, never was jealous of a man or woman who tried to heal .wounds and wipe away tears and lift burdens and save souls, and while all is of grace, and your self-abnegating: utterance will be: “Not unto ;us, not unto us, but unto Thy name, Oh, Lord, give glory!" you shall aways feel a heavenly satisfaction in every good thing you did on earth, and if iconoclasm. borne from beneath, should break through the gates of Heaven and efface one record of your earthly fidelity, methinks Christ would take one of the nails of llis own cross and write somewhere on the crystal of the amethyst or the jacinth or the chrvsopasus your name, and just under it the inscription of my text: “The righteous shall be held in everlasting remembrance.” Oh, this character building! You and I are every moment busy in that tremendous occupation., You are making me better or worse, and I am making you better or worse, and we shall, through all eternity, bear the mark of this benediction or blasting. Let others have the thrones of Heaven, those who have more mightily wrought for God and the truth, but it will be Heaven enough for you and me if ever and. anon we meet some radiant soul on the boulevards* of the great city who shall say: “You helped me once. You encouraged me when 1 was in earthly struggle. I do not know that J would have reached this shining, place had it not been for you,” and we will laugh with heavenly glee, and say, “11a! ha! Do you really remember that talk? Do you remember that warning? Do you remember that Christian invitation? What a memory you have? Why, that must have been down there in Brooklyn or New Orleans at least ten thousand million years ago.” And the answer will be: “Yes, it was as long as that, but 1 remember it as well as though it were yesterday.” Oh, this character building! The structure lasting independent of crumbling mausoleums, in

dependent c>f the whole planetary system. Aye, if the material universe, whieh seems all hound together like one)piece of machinery, should some da^ meet with an accident that should send worlds crashing into each other like telescoped railway trains, and all the wheels of constellations and galaxies should stop, and go down into one chasm of immensity all the suns and moons and stars should tumble like the midnight express at Ashtabula, that would not touch us, and would pot hurt God, for God is a spirit, and character and memory are immortal, amtWwer that grave of ja wrecked material universe might truthfully be written: “The righteous shall be held in everlasting remembrance.” 0. Time, we defy thee. Oh, Death, we stamp thee in the dust of thine own sepulchres! Oh, Eternity, roll on till the last star has stopped rotating and the last sun is extinguished on the sapphire pathway, and the last moon has illumined the last night, and as many years have passed as all the scribes that ever took pen Could describe by as many figures as they could write in all the centuries of all time, but thou shalt Jhave no power to efface from any soul in glory the memory of anything we have done to bring it to God and Heaven. Oh, where is Oblivion now? From the dark and overshadowing word that it seemed when 1 began, it has become something whieh no man or woman or child who loves the Lord need ever fear. . Oblivion defeated. Oblivion dead. Oblivion sepulchred. Hut I must not be so hard on that devouring monster, for into its grave go all our sins when the Lord for Christ's sake has forgiven them. Just blow a resurrection ti-umphet over them when once Oblivion has sapped them d own. Mot one of them rises, ltlow again. Mot a stir amid ait the pardoned iniquities of a life-time. Blow again. Mot one of them moves in the deep grave trenches. But to this powerful resurrection trumpet a voice responds half human, half Divine, and it must be part man and part God \saying: "Their sins and their iniquities will I remember no more.”, Thank God for this blessed oblivion! So you see I did not invite you down into a cellar, but up on a throne, not into the graveyard, to which all materialism is destined, but into a garden all a-bloom with everlasting remembrance. The frown of my first text has become the kiss of the second text. Annihilation has become coronation. The ivrin ging hands of a great agony have become the clapping hands of a great joy. The requiem with which weJ>§gSn has become the grand march with whieh we close. The fear of sadness wbieh rolled down onr cheek hae struck the lip on whieh sit a the laughter of eternal triumph.

— THE LATEST. After long experimenting a system of color printing on leather has been perfected in France. A special trolley car in San Francisco is intended to carry the dead to the cemeteries, while the mourners follow in other cars. The latest English importation^ in the line of language is the expression: “Oh, I say!” and it now rivals “Don't ye know?” in popularity among the anglomaniacs. A prayer-book with silken leaves has been made in Lyons, France. The prayers are woven in the silk and the work required three years. The book is valued at eleven thousand dollars. A clergyman in Springbnrn, England, noticed that his sermons made several members of his congregation sleepy. On a recent Sabhath he took a snap-shot picture of his congregation, and has it hung in the vestry, with the sleepers made conspicuous in a red border. At an “up to date” wedding in Bowling Gree^i, Mo., recently, the bridal cake was made by the groom, and the happy pair were welcomed after the ceremony at the church by the city brass band with the strains of “See the Conquering UeroComes.” CITY OBSERVATIONS. 1 Before Boston was known as “Beantown” its pet appellation was “Pumpkinshire.” It is so given in a slang dictionary of 1TS8. But one-thirdof the bodies cremated by a New York company last year were natives of America, llalf of the number were Germans. A correspondent of the New York Tribune suggeststhe holding of a great world’s fair at New Y'ork in UHX) tc celebrate the closing of the nineteenth century. » “0xj2 who has occasibn to travel much upon ferry boats,” said a New York resident, “cannot fail to be impressed by the constant care which the employes exercise in getting on and off boats. They take nochances.” New York is converting its famous old Battery into a great aquarium. The legislature appropriated 5150,000 for the purpose. This old site was tlrst a fortification, then a place of amusement with the name of Castle. Garden, and then an immigrant depot. FOREIGN AGRICULTURE. The geranium growers of France and Algeria are feeling the competition from distillers in Reunion, where the output is increasing very rapidly, every steamer arriving at Marseilles bringing consignments of geranium oil. In Manitoba. Canada, the area planted to wheat this year is 1.000.000 acres, aas against S75.000 acres last year. The increase is largely accounted for by the continual arrival of new settlers from Great Britain and elsewhere. A considerable portion of the area planted to sugar beets in France will give but a low agricultural yield. In Russia the prospects for a beet sugar erop are good, but in other European countries the beets have suffered from want of rain. The wool clip of the l'S92-’93 season, in Argentina, was S'26,000 bales, as against 351.000 bales in the preceding year, a decrease of more than four per cent "Though the lambing turned out well, the wool lacked its usual full and healthv growth.

THE MARKETS. Mew York. Mot. 13. CATTLE—Nftttve Steers. $3 60 COTTON—Middling. FLOUR—Winter Wbeui. 2 26 © «»4® 46 •„© 35 © u 4 TO © a a a a 230 a 344,0 27 @ 40 © 6 50 © WHEAT—No.2 Red._ COEN—No. 2...... OATS—Western Mixed. PORK—New Mess. ST. Loms. CO'riON—Middling...... . BEEVES—Shipping Steers... Medium. 4 35 HOGS—Fttlrto Select. 5 75 SHEEP—Fatrto Choice. 2 50 FLOUR—Patents. 3 00 Fancv to Extra Do.. WHEAT—No. 2 Rod Winter. • CORN—No. 2 Mixed.. OATS—No. 2.. . It YE—No. 2... TOBACCO-Lugs. Lest Burley.10 00 no HAY—Clear Timothy. 8 00 © BUTTER—Choice Dairy. 20 © EGGS—Fresh.„... ® PORK—Standard Mess (new).. 17 50 @ BACON—Clear Rib. ® LARD—Prime Steam. © CiliCAaa CATTLE—Shinping.W. S 55 © HOGS—Falrto Choice. 5 To © SHEEP—Fair to Choice. 3 00 © FLOOR—Winter Patents. 3 75 © Spring Patents......’ 3 30 © WHEAT—No. 2. Spring. © No. 2 Red.,. © CORN—No. 2... © OATS—No. 2. ® PORK-Mess (new). 1575 © KANSAS CITY. CATTLE—Shipping Steers.... 3 50 © HOGS—All Grades. 5 50 © WHEAT—No. 2 Red. 54 O OATS—No 2. |« © NEW ORLEANS FLOOR—Htgh Grade.— S 03 © CORN—No. 2.—.~ 48 © OATS—Western.. ® HAY-Choice. ® PORK—New Mess. ® BACON-Sides.• ® COTTON—Middling. TX® CINCINNATI. WHEAT—No. 2 Red.... ... © CORN—No. 2 Mixed. © OATS—No 2 Mixed... FORK—NewMess. BACON—Clear I Mbs. COTT'ON—Middling. © 1803. 5 15 8X 4 1U 67X 47 36 19 00 7X 5 50 5 20 e orx 3 50 3 10 2 75 58X 34*-* 27)4 44 13 00 19 01 11 50 25 18 17 K'i 10 »X 5 50 6 10 S 50 3 90 4 i*5 61H 61% 38v. 28% 16 tO 5 25 5 90 5> 264 SI S 50 49 35* 16 50 18 00 10*4 ‘ 7* 60 41 3»H 16 50 10H 8* WOMEN IN SOCIETY —often need the strengthening support of a general tonic and nervine. Are you weak, nervous, or ailing ? Then Dr. Pierce’s Favorite Prescription brings you special help. For delicate women, for all the derangements, disorders, and diseases of the sex, it lessenes pain and relieves sleeplessness, backache and bearingdown sensations. The success of “ Favorite Prescription” in curing all the functional derangements, painful disorders, and chronic weaknesses of women, warrant its makers in guaranteeing it. Your money is re

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J1IS8 niKMKSUn* KXipwvu. PIERCED CURE.

1 * Nothing can be substituted for the Royal Baking Powder and give as good results. No other leavening agent will make such light, sweet, delicious, wholesome food.

SOUTH CAROLINA “RACCOONS." The Conditions Which Make Useless In One State Alone Many Millions of Oysters. “The entire coast margin” of South Carolina is well provided with natural beds; but, says Mr. Dean, “they are strangely unlike the natural beds further northward.” In this region the oyster is found on the margin of the shore in positive reefs, part of which are at low tide exposed—so that the oysters lite almost “as much in the air as in the water.” These ledges are formed of curious clusters—those oysters which are on the top being called “raccoons” because of their peculiar shape. These oysters can barely be said to live, and are in their present condition utterly unfit for the table. Prof. Ryder says that the cause of this peculiar clustering is that, because of the muddy and unhealthy condition of the bottom in the deeper water, the oysters of South Carolina cling to the shore line and there build upon one another, generation after, generation, until sometimes ledges are formed over ten feet in height. This crowding together prevents individual development, and consequently millions upon millions of oysters are lost to the people of this country in this one state alone. That the “planting" of “racoon" seed in the deeper waters for cultivation would be profitless is shown by the natural growth of the oysters themselves in the marginal waters. They would soon become asphyxiated in the soft, silting mud bottom which occurs along the entire coast line of this state.—Robert F. Walsh, in Popular Science Monthly. Brace Cp Tour System With the agreeable-tonic, Hostetter's Stomach Bitters. We will foreshadow the results for you. They are a gam in vigor, flesh and appetite; ability to digest thoroughly and sleep soundly;'quietude of the nerves; a disappearance ol bilious symptoms; regularity of the bowels. Malaria, rheumatism and kidney trouble are removed by this grand restorative of health. Mrs. Wickwire—“What is the difference between me and a chicken, dear!” Mr. Wick wire — -'About thirty-five years, I guess.” Mrs. Wickwire-“Oh. you hateful thing. Tliat isn’t the answer at all. The chicken is killed to dress and I'm dressed to kill. ’’—Indianapolis Journal A Sore Throat or Cough, if suffered to progress, often results in an iueurable throat or lung trouble. “Brown't Bronchial Troches" give instant relief. Price 25 eta “I pox’t find the variety you mention in the fare.” “It's there, though, in the hasn every day.”—Inter Ocean. Beecham’s Pills area wonderful medicine for any bilious or nervous disorder, such as sick headache, etc. Price, 25 cents a box. The man who declares that he will forgive but can never forget has never tried to mail his wife's letters.—Elmira Gazette. Actors, Vocalists. Public Speakers praise Hale’s Honey of Horehound and Tar. Pike’s Toothache Drops Cure in one minute. Where wit hath any mixtureof raillery it is but calling it banter, and the work is done.—Swift. , J. C. Simpson, Marquess, W. Va., says: “Hall’s Catarrh Cure cured me of a verv bad case of catarrh.” Druggists sell it, 75*1 “Idleness,” said Uncle Eben, “makes er man talkative. Seems laik it’s onpossible fur er man to do nuffin’ an’ say Miffin’ simultaneously.”—Washington Star.

“I waxt this tooth pulled. I just can't' stand this any longer.” "But, my dear sir, I am not a dentist. ’ “What in thunder am yon!” "I am an oculist. I. attend to thneyes, not the teeth.” “Weil, that’s ait right. Go to work. This is an eve tooth that’s bothering me.”—Texas Siftings. The life of the Georgia editor is a sad odsl We run out of wood and had to cook our vittles in the sun, and it's been rainin' steady for three weeks —BiUville Bannsr.

KNOWLEDGE Brings comfort and improvement and tends to personal enjoyment when rightly used. The many, who live better than others and enjoy life more, with less expenditure, by more promptly adapting the world’s best products to the needs of physical being, will attest the value to health of the pure liquid laxative principles embraced in the remedy, Syrup of Figs. Its excellence is due to its presenting in the form most acceptable and pleasant to the taste, the refreshing and truly beneficial properties of a perfect laxative ; effectually cleansing the system, dispelling colds, headaches and fever*, ana permanently curing constipaticoa It has given satisfaction to millions and met with the approval of the medicak profession, because it acts on the Kid*neys, Liver and Bowels without weakening them and it is perfectly free from 3 every objectionable substance. Syrup of Figs is for sale bv all dropgists in 60c ana $1 bottles, but it is manufactured by the California Fig 3yrnp Co. only, whose name is printed on every package, also the name, Stump of Figs, and being well informed, *Tou will not accept any substitute if ottered. 26 ';2 POULTRY YIRBI v

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T. JACOBS OIL PAINS AND ACHES.

What to do with Milk Pails I Clean them with Pearline. Ybu can’t get them so thoroughly sweet and pure in any ^ other way. Besides, it’s easier for you.— quicker, more economical. “ The box and barrel churn are not hard to keep clean. A little hot water and a little Pearline will clean any churn or do away with any bad odor,”—The Dairy World, Chicago^ Perhaps you think that some of the imitations of Pearline, that you’d be afraid to use in washing clothes, would do just as well in work like this. They wouldn’t hurt tinware, certainly. But they wouldn’t

clean it, enner, nan as wen as r'earnne—Desiaes, "aon r play with the fire.” If your grocer sends you aji imitation,, be honest—send it back. «oo james pyle, New York..

fISH BR^ ThlaTndt KuklawtlwbM* WATERPROOF COAT tiiSSSif In the World ! ' A. J. TOWER. BOST6N. MASS. _ --u»d« nml. 8h4 fe ia

1,000,000 ACRE8 OF UN» for •»]» by tha Saint Pa tm A Doloth Railkoa* Compant la HlDawitt. Send for Map* and Cirva> foil. They will be Mnt to 70a rood situations. WrttoJ —— » fim«« HOPEWELL CLARKE, Land Commiaatanar, 61. Paul, Mia a. . ADTiniun ruus do UvHlHaMl la IMa 1474.