Rensselaer Republican, Volume 27, Number 37, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 21 May 1896 — Page 2

THE FRMILY STORY

DADDY JOHN’S NEW CLOTHES

fi HERE had been a royal fire in I Daddy Jbhtfs eabtn, and there ■A was stffi a great bed of glowing coals when his daughter Lis called him flo dinner. Bad<% Swarmed hie thin. Sflae hands at the fire and the : sweet smell of the corn pone and the fraCianee of the coffee yrere very pleassnt to him. His old, wlsened face (wrinkled into something meant for a ■mile. “The doctor woman’s bar’l hes couie he said. “I seen it on Jule Fraley’s wagon,” replied Liz,-her dark, weather-beaten Dice lighting. “Gome an’ eat dinner, dad,” she add--Tm a-comin’,” quavered the old man. * dtering forward and pulling along an \ kTapUnt chair. j “Whar’s thet piece er saddle blanket?* he croaked. “1 lied It er ridin* Pomp,” declared Bud. “You git it mighty quick," snid his mother. Bud brought a tattered sheepskin (which the old man carefully folded in the chair and then sat down. That part of Daddy John’s apparel which came In contact with the sheep pkin was so attenuated as .to fabric jlhat the interposition of the worn fleece iwas most comforting. “I’ve got ter hev some new does. Liz." said Daddy; presently. She looked at Bud. “Bud wants some new clo’es powerful *»d, too, but he eats secli a heap, ’pearsi like 1 eayn’t never git him noan." “Bml kin git eriong," said the old man. testily. /' “Don’t you reckon the doctor woman’s got clo’es in her oar’l?" asked Liz. “I reckon. But mebby.ther ain’t nary thing fer me.” “Es you should go up thar ’’ **l ain’t er goln’,” Interrupted the old man, almost angrily. “Doctor woman’s al’ays been good ter we uns an’ I don’t aim ter ax her fer ary thing.” His feeble hands trembled as he took up his torn hat ’ “ “She got plenty of everything," said Liz, sullenly. “It don’t differ. I ain’t gain’ I” Daddy Jpbn went out. “Dad al’ays wus er fool!" mused Liz. as she lit her pipe. , ' “You go an’ help yer grandad pick op taters." she called to Bud. Bud. sauntering lazily toward tiie potato bank, saw somebody swinging along the mountain toward the cabin. “Thar's the doctor woman's nigger er cornin’ atter you, grandad,” he called. Daddy John set his spade down hard and leaned forward on tne handle. “Cornin’ atter me? You'se a plum Mjlt, Bud.” But he stared from under his shaggy brows and breathed hard as the handaom« - !■ tw woman came up. “HepalnkSaUy!" “1| Daddy John. Bankin' up IW - _ m. J. kai 'ng all over and felt sick. “Got sorde yit, daddy ? Gi’ me some! I want a permater pie, I does.” “Yis. yis,” said the old man, shortly. “Doctor wants you to come up ‘.liar, daddy. She’s got sumfin fer you’6e outen her bar’l.” “Yessum. I’ll come atter I gits my taters done banked up.” Sally started off with her tomatoes. “Tell her I’m obleeged to her,” called / daddy's cracked voice. ' y’. • “What my missis wants to throw away good clo’es on that pore white trash fer, I don’t know,” grumbled Sal |y. “Me and Jake could er make use o’ an o’ them things.” ; - v v Daddy John went on with his work. “Ain’t yer er goin’, grandad?” cried i Bud.

“Yis, I’m er goin’ right now.” He toddled off to the cabin, washed We hands at the porch and dried them on fit of burlier *flfe SbctdP’m? watching for the old man. He gave a queer pull at his tattered hat brim as. fee came near. “Howdy, Daddy John! I'm fight glad to see you. Come in!” He stood at the edge of the hearth, gazing at the barrel. The doctor smiled. “Your hat is getting pretty old, daddy. The brim is torn and there’s such a big hole in the crown!” “Yessunj- Hit’s plum worn out, sure 'muff.” •‘Never mind,” said the doctor. “I ! .1 ve such a nice cap for you,” showing t to him. “Made of soft fur and with car lappets to tie down.” The old face altered. It lost ten weary years. ■ “Try it on, daddy! Now, is it not Bice? You won’t freeze your poor ears this winter.” “No, ma’am! Thank'ee, ma'am. 1 reckon I’d better go new. “Wait a bit. You need some shoe* daddy. Here are some—good ones.’* “Mighty fine shoes, mighty fine,” mumbled the old man. “Now, you need some soft warm Bocks. Here they are. You want to put them on, don't you? Come in here. And now I must g»— go—oh, yes—go to feed my chickens. But there’s one thing more. Here is a nice pair of trousers!" “Doctor!” “It’s all right. Daddy! They wHI Just fit you, I’m sure.” ( Hurta a droll figures waited the doctor's return. A little gray old man, his small spindle legs rattling around in the fine black trousers, his ragged, faded calico shirt abashed in such company. He looked at her speechless, his wrinkled face working. She smiled at him. , ’ “I have a east here for you. Daddy, Mtf J'4l give you a clean white shirt to “Doctor!” the old own gasped. “I *Don’t worry, Daddy, try on the vest.” . . He put it on, tugging weakly at the

■ "Jest what I needed," he muttered, huskily. - -■■■■ “You look very nice, Daddy. There's only one thing more, and here it lathe finest, wannest coat in Buncombe County." She held it np by the shoulders and drew it on. “Now. is not that a lovely coat?” He stroked the soft cloth gently, pulling at the fronts with his stubby fingers. /“It’s lined with silk,”, said the doctor. “Daddy, I shouldn’t know you.” He looked down at himself in a dazed way. Then be started. “I’d better go home now,” he said, hurriedly. “I never had nary suit o' clo’es afore. God bless ye, doctor.” He caught her hand. " “I nr so glad to give them- to- yon, - Daddy,” she said softly, with tears. The next; day Jule Fraley came up to mend the roof and while he warmed himself at the fire he told i.ie story of Daddy/s return home. “We wuz a pullin’ corn, me an' Liz an’ Bud. an' I see the old man er coinin’ down the hill, an’ I says: ’Look yon, Liz! Is thet yer dad?’ “ ‘Naw!’ says Liz. "Thet ain’t dad. Looks like ole Preacher Freeman.’ "Sure nuff—he did look pint blank like ole Preacher Freeman. An’ we watched Mm tell he crossed the branch, an' wtfen he clim’ up the bank he staggered a bit—yer know daddy’s mighty onstiddv on his legs—an’ I knowed who hit was, an’ I said: “ ‘ 'Tis yer daddy, Liz.’ An’ Liz were plum outdone 'at she didn’t know her own daddy,” concluded Jule, indulging in one of those silent laughs peculiar to his kind. He went up on the roof presently and tLi doctor came out to overlook the work, always charmed into lingering by the wonderful beauty of the landscape. The house sat upon one of the foothills of the great Appalachian range, east of the French Broad. Looking west one saw a wooded, undulating country, rolling away to the valley and there stayed by the massive wall of a great mountain that rose far Into the blue. Along the mountain side the railroad made its way over high trestles and red clay embankments, and at times one caught the sound of the whistle, the rumble of wheels and saw the train rush along, small in the distance like a child’s toy. All at once there was a shout and at the same instant a shot rang out. “Thar's a convict got off,” cried Jule, when the doctor appeared. “I saw him jump off the train.” The doctor shivered. “And they didn’t stop?” “Why, no, but the guard fired on him. They’ll send a party back when they to Biltmore, an’ offer SIOO reward fer him, likely. Don't ! wish I; c'd git it.” “Will he get caught, do you think?” “I reckon. They»gin’ally does. He’s tuk ter the woods now. They al’ays does when they makes a br.eak. But he’ll git an opting, anyhow. Dog-goned es I blame ’ini.” 1 ‘‘Mr. Farley, where do they go when they escape like that?” “They lays in the woods. Mebby they know niggers that’ll feed ’em and give ’em clo’es. -They’re al’ays in a mighty hurry to git shet o’ their striked suit, an’ es they do sometimes they git away fer good.” Daddy John came once to visit the doctor, wearing his new clothes, and then he paid; visits to all his kinsfolks and old neighbors, and the queer, pathetic figure in the fine black suit, weakly climbing over the hills, became a familiar sight Then one night a terrible calamity befell, and the next morning it was known all over the settlement that “Daddy John’s new clo’es ’at come in the doctor woman’s bar’l had been stole.” Horsemen riding to town drew rein for h««TC-®v--ery other woman put on her sunbonnet and called on her next neighbor, and then the two went together to see Daddy John. So It happened that when the doctor arrived she found the house so full that two of the women rose and sat on the floor to offer her a chair. There was a curious stillness in the house. One of the women whispered:

“Hit’s just like a buryln’, only tbar ain’t no corpse.” Daddy John was sitting the fire, huddled together, the pictiire of misery. ' . - “I’ve lost my new elo’es,” he quaver“l’m so sorry,-i)addy John,” said the doctor, taking his hard, bony hand. “I never had no new elo’es afore,” he croaked, piteously. A few frosty tears dropped on his grizzled cheek. Liz took up a corner of her apron and wiped her eyes. All the other women dipped snuff. “They wuz sech fine elo’es!” mused the old man. “The coat hed a silk linin’. Doctor said it war silk. An’ the purtlest buttons!" “An’ them elo’es could a’ ben fixed up fer Bud when dad got done with ’em,” said Liz. The old man paled with sudden passion. “I ain’t er goin’ ter git done with ’em!” he said, in a high voice. “Bud shan't hev ’em. Doctor woman give ’em ter me. I never hed no new elo’es afore. But I ate-’t got ’em now. They're stoje.” He broke down into tearless sobs, that shook the old chair. “Don’t cry. Daddy!” all the women called In unison, and they<>shed a fewperfunctory tears and passed the snuffbox around. “You don’t use terbacco in any form, do yer, doctor?" asked one. » The doctor admitted that she did' hot, and they looked steadily at her, trying to realise the phenomenon. Weeks passed and Daddy over the fire in utter dejection. Old age, j poverty and loneliness, unhappy trio, 1 were his sole companions. It was now

believed that the clothes would never be recovered. Out In the woods one frpst£ morning a heavy foot crushed Into the dead leaves, and a big chestnut, falling, struck the owner of the foot on the nose. He'raised his black face toward the treetops.* * "HI! Dey’s drappin’ all de time now, an’ deys a heap better’n bo’ff.” He sat down in his tracks and filled his pockets and shirt-froht, eating voraciously the while. “Reckon I’d better be gwine now / ,** £ lie said presently. ' RISTfig^TO piek&a'B&’way, 1 ike a V at, through the underbrush, climbing constantly/till he reached a spotwhere a huge bowlder cropped out and overhung the mountain side. Its crest commanded the whole-valley, and its shelving underside made a cozy shelter. Thick pines crowded up and concealed the entrance. The convict had been so sharply hunted that he had been unable to escape from the neighborhood, and it Was in the boldness of desperation that he had chosen his retreat so near the State read that hp could hear the voices of the country folk as they passed to and from town. He sat down to cogitate. “Es I could git word to Rosy, or git to Rosy, I’d be ail right; btit, Lordy! I can’t do nary one on ’em.” The train whizzed out from a cutting and whistled sharply as it tore along. The negro grinned wlthpleasure. He was so miicli a savage that this nomadic existence, though hunted and tortured by fear, was sweet to him. “Howdy, gemmen!” he chuckled, as, peering through the pine boughs, lie recognized some of his fellow-convicts on the train. “Don’t you wish you was me? Plenty grub, heap o’ new clo’es and no work to do. Ho, ho!” He rose and drew out a bundle, undid it, viewed its contents with a series of laughing explosions, and then presently doffed bis striped suit and arrayed himself anew.

“Mighty fine clo’es fer a fac’; cost a heap o’ money.” He softly patted his limbs, twisted his neck to get a gHmpse of his back, afid creased all his black face into ope big smile. A mirror would have made his rapture perfect. “Rosy won’t know me in dose yere. She’ll tek me fer a preacher jest from confunce.” He changed back to his striped suit and tied lip his bundle. A sharp wind sprang up and drove before it icy drops of rain. “Golly!” muttered the darky. “Ain’t it cold? I’ll resk a tire arter dark.” Down to the doctor’s farm everybody was hurrying to get the crops under shelter. The last load bad gone In when Jule Fraley looked up at the sky. The clouds, were rolling up like a curtain, showing the far mountains a deep, intense blue etched with an amber sky. “Durned of it’s going to storm, after all,” said Jule. Suddenly he straightened himself. “Bub!” he called sharply. I‘Look yon—on the mountain. Ain’t thet smoke?’’ Bud could see as far as an Indian. “Yes! Thet’s smoke.T’ - “Ther’ ain’t no house thar?” “Naw. Nary house.” / Jule walked away briskly. Two hours later five men parted the umbrageous pines and tip-toed cautiously toward a small opening under a great rock' on the mountain side: A. whiff of warm air stole out to them. A great bed of coals glowed redly, and, with his feet to the fire, a negro in convict dress lay sound asleep. The men had their guns ready. One pointed his piece upward and a shot tore through the tree tops. The negro was on his feet in an instant, “We’ve got you!” said one. He looked from one to the other and his dark face grew a shade lighter. “I surrender, gemmen!” he .said, calmly. «■ Shortly after this event Daddy John reappeared in his new clothes. He wore them almost constantly for a few weeks, and then they were suddenly retired from public observation, and Daddy went about looking as if the scarecrow in the cornfield had stepped down from his perch and toddled off to seek winter quarters. The doctor was puzzled. When, at last, she ' questioned Jule Fraley, Jule shook his head mysteriously. “I reckon I kin tell yer es yer won’t be put out about it.” “Well, well! Do so!” “I reckon,” in a hushed voice, “ ’at “Seepin' of ’em ter be buried’tti?*— New York Tribune.

A Public Reservoir.

I saw an interesting sight while in Venice. Entering a little square shut in by high houses, and, like most Venetian squares, dominated by the unfinished facade of a time-stained church, I noticed a singular activity among the people. They were scurrying in from every alley, and hastening from every house door, with odd-shaped copper buckets on hook-ended wooden liows, and with little coils of rope. Old men aud women, boys, and girls, all gathered closely about a covered well curb in the middle of the square; and still they hurried on, until they stood a dozen deep around it. Presently the clock In the church tower slowly struck 8, and a little man forced his way through the crowd, passed his ponderous iron key through the lid, and unlocked the well. There immediately ensued a scene of great activity. The kettles went jangling into it, and came slopping out again at an amazing rate, and the people trudged off home, each with a pair of them swti»g from each shoulder. The wells are deep cisterns, which are filled during the it is out of amiable consideration for those who love their morning nap that they are given as good a chance as their neighbors oLgetting an uncoiled supply] If Is ihe firsf instance that has come to my notice of h commendable municipal restraint upon the reprehensible practice of early rising. I found, on closer investigation, that the water was of excellent quality.

“Insects on Hawaii.

Prof. Albert Koebele, of California, has made a three years’ contract with the Hawaiian Government to destroy the Insect pests of the islands. His method is to get Insects harmless to mau'to kill noxious insects. A school teacher goes through a book or newspaper looking for grammatical errors with as much fierce interest as a mother goes through her boy’s head.

TALMAGE’S SERMON.

WASHINGTON PREACHER SHOWS EVILS OF fiADCOMPANY. Association with the Wicked Breeds Corruption, and. He Who Consorts with the Unclean Will Be, Polluted, Says the Great Divine. * • . ». Sin Is Infectious. Young and old, but more especially the young -men and women of our tide, have a vital interest in the theme upon which Rev. Dr. Talmage discoursed last Sunday. He .chose for his subject, “Bad Company,” the text selected being Proverbs i., 13, “Walk not thou Jn the way with them.” ' Hardly any young man gol-s to a place of dissipation alone. Each one is accompanied. , No man goes to ruin alone. He always takes some dire else with him. “May it please the court,” said a convicted criminal when asked if he had anything to say before sentence of death was passed upon him—“may it please the court, bad company has keen Ay ruin. I deceived the blessing of good parents, and, in return, promised to avoid all fevil associations. Had I kept my promise I should have, been saved this shame and been free from tlic lond of guilt that hangs around me like a vulture, threatening to drag me to justice for crimes yet un revealed. I, who once moved in the first circles of -Society and have beivi tiui guest of distinguished public men, ara lost, and all through bad company.” This is but one of the thousand proofs that evil associations blast anddestroy. It is the invariable rule/' There is a well man in the wards of a hospital, where there are a hundred people sick with ship fever; and he will pot be so apt to take the disease as a good man would be apt,to ,be smitten with moral distemper if shut up with iniquitous companions. In olden times prisoners were herded together in the same cell, but each one learned the vices of all the culprits, so that instead of being reformed by incarceration the day of liberation turned them out upon soeiety beasts, not men.

Beware of the Vicious, We may, in our places of business, be compelled to talk to and mingle with bad men, but he who deliberately chooses to associate himself with vicious people is engaged in carrying on a courtship with a Delilah whose shears will clip off all the locks of his strength, and he will be tripped into perdition. Sin is catching, is infectious, is epidemic. I will let you look over the millions of people now inhabiting the earth, and' I challenge you to show me a good man who, after one year, has made choice and consorted with the wicked. A thousand dollars rewafd for one such instance. I care not how strong' your character may be. Go with the corrupt, and you will become corrupt; clan with burglars, and you will become a burglar; go among the unclean, and you will become unclean. Young man, in the name of God, 1 warn you to beware how you let a bad man talk familiarly with you. If such a one slap you on the shoulder familiarly, turn round and give him a withering look until the wretch crouches in your presence. I give warning to young men and say, “Beware of evil companions.” I warn you to shun the skeptic—the young man who puts his fingers in his vest and laughs at your old fashioned returns over Mb some mystery of the Bible and says. “Explain that, mjt pious friend; explain that.” And who says: “Nobody will scare me. lam not afraid of the future. I used to believe in such things, and so did my father and mother, but I have got over it.” Yes, he has got over it, and if you sit in his company a little longer you will get over it, too. Without presenting one argument against the Christian religion such men will, by their'jeers and scoffs and caricatures, destroy your respect for that religion, which Was the strength of your father in his declining years and the pillow of your old mother when she lay a-dying. Alas! a time will come when this blustering y.oung infidel will have to die, and then his diamond ring will flash no splen 4 dor in* the eyes of Death, as he stands over the couch, waiting for his soul. Those beautiful locks will be uncombed upon the pillow, and the dying man will say, “I cannot die—l eannot die.” Idleness Begets Sin. Again I urge you to shun the companionship of idlers. There are men hanging around every store and office and shopwho have nothing to do, or act as if they had not. They are apt to come in when the firm are away and wish to engage you in conversation while you are engaged in your' regular employment. Politely suggest to such persons that you have no time to give them during business hours. Nothing would please them so well as to have you renounce your occupation and associate with them. Much of the time they lounge around the doors of engine houses, or after the dining hour stand upon the steps of a fashionable hotel or an elegant restaurant, wishing to give you the idea that that is the place where they dine. But they do hot .dine there. They are sinking down lower and lower day by day. Neither by day nor by night have anything to do with idlers.

Before you admit a man into your acquaintance ask him politely, “What do you do for a living?” If he says, “Nothing; I am a gentleman,” look out for hint. He may have a very, soft hand and very faultless apparel and have a high sounding family name, but his touch is death. Before you know it, you will in his presence be ashamed of your work dress. Business will become to you drudgery, and after awhile you will lose your place, and afterward your respectability, and. lnpt of all, your soul. Idleness is next door to villainy. Thieves, gamblers, burglars, shoplifters and assassins are made from the class who have nothing to dot When the police go to hunt up and arrest a culprit, they seldom go to look in at the busy carriage factory or behind the counter where diligent clerks are employed, but they go among the groups of idlers. The play is going on at the theater, when suddenly there is a scuffle in the top gallery. What is it? A policeman has come in, and, leaning over, has tapped on the shoulder of a young man, saying, “I want you, sir.” He has not work.ed during the day, but somehow has raked together a shilling or two to get Into the top gallery. He is an Idler. The man on his right hand » an—ldler, and the man on his left hand is an idler. During the past few years there has been n great deal of dullness jo business. Ypung men have complained that they have little to do. If they have nothing else to do, they can read and improve their minds and hearts.' These times are not always to continue. Business is waking up, and the superior knowledge that in this interregnum of work you may obtain will be worth $50,000 of capital. The large fortunes of, the next twenty years are having their foundations laid now by the young men who are giving themselves to self-improvement. I went into a store in New York a’nd saw five men, all Christians, sitting round, saying that they had nothing to do. It is an outrage for a Christian man to have nothing to do. Let him go out and visit the poor, or distribute tracts, or go and read the , Bible to the sick, or take oqt nty New Testament and be making bis eternal fortune. Lot him go into the back office and pray.

Shrink back from idleness in yourself amDin"'others if you would maintain a right position. /''• ’ The Harvest of Eternity. A young man came to a man of 90 years of nge and said to him,.‘‘How have you made out to live so long and be so well?" The old man took the youngster to ah orcfiard, and, pointing to-some large trees full of apples, said,„“l planted these trees when I was. a boy, and do you wonder that now I am permitted to gather, the fruit of them?” We gather in old age what we plant in our youth'. Sow to the Wind, and 'we , reap the whirlwind. Plant in early life the right kind of a Christian character, -and you. will eat luscibps fruit in old age and gather these harvest apples in eternity." I urge you to avoid the perpetual pleasure seeker.*' ‘ I believe in recreation and amusement. God would not have made us with the capacity to laugh if he had not intended ,U| sometimes to indulge it. God hath hung in.sky and set in wave and printed on grass many, a roundelay, but he who chooses pleasure seeking for his life work does not understand f<w what God made him. Our amusements are intended to. help us in some earnest mission. The thundercloud hath an edge exquisitely purpled,, but with voice that jars the earth it declares, “I go tq water the green fields.” The wild flowers under the feqce are gay, but they say, “We stand here to make room for the wheatfield and to refresh the husbandmen in their nooning.” The stream sparkles and foams and frolics and says: “1 go to baptize the moss. I lave the spots on the trout. I slake the thirst of the bird- - I turn the wheel of the mill. I rock in my crystal* cradle muckshaw and water lily.” And so, while the world plays, it works. Look out for the mafi who always plays and neve? works. T You will do weH to _avoid those whose regular business it is to play ball, skate or go a-boating; —All these sports are grand in their places. I never derived so much advantage from any ministerial association as from a ministerial club that went but to play ball every Saturday afternoon in the outskirts of Philadelphia. These recreations are grand to give us muscle and spirits for our regular toil. I believe in muscular Christianity. A man Is often not so near God with a weak stomach as when he' has a strong digestion. But shun those who make it their life (Occupation to sport. There are young men whose industry and usefulness have fallen overboard from the yacht. There are men whose business fell through the ice of the skating pondyand has never since been heard of. There is a beauty in the gliding of a boat, in the song of the skates, in the soaring of n well-struck ball, and' I never see one fly but I involuntarily throw up my hands to catch it, and, so far from" laying an injunction upon ball playing or any other innocent _sport, I claim them all as belonging of right to those of us who toil in the grand indus-tries^fTchmrh^arafl-stfrter-. But the life business of pleasure seeking always makes in the end a criminal or a sot. George Brummel -Was smiled upon by all England, and, his life was given to pleasure. He danced with the peeresses apd swung a round of mirth and wealth and applauso, until, exhausted of purse and worn out of body and bankrupt of reputation and ruined of soul, lie begged a biscuit from a grocer and declared that he thought a dog’s life was better than a man's. Such men will come into your office, or crowd around your anvil, or seek to decoy you off. They will want yon to break out in the midst of your busy day to tiiko a ride with- them. They will tell you of some people you must see, of feme excursion that you must take, of some Sabbath day that you ought to dishonor. They, will tell you of exquisite wines that you must taste, of costly operas that youmiust hear, of wonderful dancers that you must see, but before you accept their convoy or their companionship remember that while at the end of a useful life you may be able to look back to kindnesses done, to honorable work accomplished, to poverty helped, to ' a good name earned, to Christia*n influence exerted, to a Savior’s cause advanced, these pleasure seekers on their deathbeds have nothing better to review than a torn playbill, a ticket for the races, an empty tankard and the cast out rinds of a carousal, and as in the delirium of their awful death they dutch -the goblet and press it to their lips the dregs of the cup falling upon their tongue will begin to hiss and uncoil with the adders of an eternal poison. „ Again, avoid as you would avoid the death of your body, mind and soul any one who has in him the gambling spirit. Men who want to gamble will find places just suited to their capacity, not only in the underground oyster cellar, or at the table back of the curtain, covered with greasy cards, or in the steamboat smoking cabin, where the bloated wretch with rings in his ears deals out his pack and winks at the unsuspecting traveler—providing free drinks all around —hut in gilded parlors and amid gorgeous surroundings. Avoid Unhealthy Stimulants. This sin works ruin first by unhealthful stimulants. Excitement is pleasurable. Crider every sky ffrv? vu every age men have sought it. The Chinaman gets it by smoking his opium, the Persian by chewing hasheesh, the trapper in a buffalo hunt, the sailor in a squall, the inebriate in the bottle and the avaricious at the gaming table. We must at times have excitement A thousand voices in our nature demand it. It is right. It is healthful. It is inspiring. It is a desire God given. But anything that first gratifies this appetite and hurls it back In a terrific reaction is deplorable and wicked. Look out for the agitation that, like a rough musician, in bringing out the tune plays so hard he breaks down the Instrument. God never made man strong enough to endure the wear and tear of gambling excitement. 'No wonder if, after having failed in the game, men have begun to sweep off imaginary gold from the side of the table. The man was sharp enough when he started at the game, but a maniac at the close. At every gaming table sits on one side, ecstasy, enthusiasm, romance —the frenzy of joy; on the other side, fierceness, rage, tumult. The professional gamester schools himself into apparent quietness. The keepers of gambling rooms are generally fat, rollicking and obese, but thorough and professional gamblers, in nine cases out of ten, are pale, thin, wheezy, tremulous and exhausted. > A young man having suddenly inherited a large property sits at the hazard tables and takes up in a dice box the estate won by a father’s lifetime sweat and shakes it and tosses it away. Intemperance soon stigmatizes its victim—kicking him out, a slavering fool, into the ditch, or sending him, with the drunkard’s hiccough, stag* gering up the street where his family lives. But gambling does not in that way expose its victims. The gambler may be eaten up by the gambler’s passion, yet you only discover it by the greed in his eyes, the hardness of his features, the, nervous restlessness, the threadbare coat and his embarrassed business. Yet he is on the road to hell, and no preacher’s voice, or startling warning, or wife’s entreaty, canmake him stay for a moment his headlong career. The infernal spell is on him; n giant is aroused Within, and though you may bind him with cables they - would pact like thread, and though yon fasten him seven times round with chains they would snap like rusted wipe, and though yon piled up in his path heaven high Bibles, tracts and sermon* and on the top

should set the cross of the Son of God, over them all the gambler WotiM leap like •a roe over the rocks on his way to perdition,. The Gambler Gains Perdition. A man used to reaping scores or fyjindjeds Of dollars from the gaming tabic will not be content with slow work. He Will say, “What is the Use of ray trying to make these*soo in my store when I can get five times that in half an hour down at Billy’s?” You never knew a confirmed gamble&who was industrious. The met given to this vice spend their time, not actively engaged in the game, in- idleness or intoxication or sleep dr in corrupting .new victims. This sin has dulled the carpenter's saw and cut the band of the factory wheel, sunk the cargo, broken the te.eth of the farmer’s hafrow and sent a stfange'lightning to shatter the battery of the philosopher. The very first idea iii gaming is at war with all the industries of society. Any trade or occupation, that is of use is ennobling. The street sweeper advances the interests of society by the.cleanliness effected. The cat-pays for the fragments it eats by cleaning the House of vermin. The fly that taMes the sweetness from the dregs of the cup compensates by purifying the air and keeping back the pestilence; But the gambler gives hot anything for that which he takes. I recall that sentence. He does make a return, but it is disgrace to the man-he fleeces, despair to his heart, ruin to his business, anguish to his wife, shame To his children and eternal wasting awaydo his soul. He pays in tears and blood and agony and darkness and woe. What dull work is plowing teffche farmer when in the village saloon in one night be makes and 1 * loses the value of a summer harvest! will want to sell tape and measure nankeen and cut garments and weigh sugars when in a night's game he makes and loses and makes again and loses again the profits of a season. ? •If men fail in lawful business, God pities and society commiserates, but where, in the Bible or society, is there any consolation for the gambler? Furthermore, this sin is the source of uncounted dishonesty. The game itself is often a cheat. How many tricks and deceptions in the dealing of the cards! The opponent's hand is ofttimes found out by fraud. Cards are marked so that they may be designated from the back. Expert gamesters have their accomplices, arid one wink may decide a game. The (lice have been found loaded with glatina, so that doublets come UP every time. These dice are introduced by the gamblers unobserved by the honest men who come into the play, and this accounts for the fact that 99 out of 100 who gamble, however wealthy when they begin, at the end are found to be poor, miserable, haggard wretches that would not now be allowed to sit on the.doorstep of the house that they once owned.

Promises of God, In a gaming house -in San F Fan cisco a young man, having just come from the mines, deposited a large sum upon the ace arid wori $22,000. But the tide turns. Intense anxiety comes upon the countenances of all. Slowly the cards went forth. Every eye is fixed. Not a sound is heard, until the ace is revealed favorable to the bank. There are shouts of “Foul, foul!” but the keepers of the table produce their pistols, and the uproar is silenced and the bank has won $95,000. Do yon call this a game of chance? There is no chanee about it. But these dishonesties in the carrying on of the game are nothing-when compared with the frauds that are committed in order to get money to go on with the nefarious work. Gambling, with its needy hand, has snatched away the widow’s mite and the portion of the orphans, has sold the daughter’s virtue to get the means to continue the game,, has written the counterfeit’s signature, emptied the banker’s money vnult and wielded the assassin's dagger. There is no depth of meanness to which it will not stoop. There is no cruelty at which it is appalled. . There is no: warning of God thatrit will not dare. Merciless, unappeasable, fiercer and wilder it blinds, it hardens, it rends, it blasts, it crushes, it damns. Have nothing to do with gamblers, whether they gamble on large scaje or small scale. Cast out these men from your company. Do not be intimate with them. Always be polite There is no.jiemand_that.ymi ever sacrifice politeness. A young man accosted a Christian Quaker with, “Old chap, how did you make all your money?” The Quaker replied, “By dealing in an article that you mayest deal in if thou wilt —civility.” Always be courteous, but at the same time firm. Say “No” as if you meant it. Have it understood in store and Shop and street that you witi not stand in the companionship of the skeptic, the idler, the pleasure seeker, the gambler. Rather than enter the companionship of sneh accept the invitation to a better feast. The promises of God are the fruits. The harps of heaven are the music. Clusters from the vineyard of God have been pressed into the tankards. The sons and daughters of’the Lord Almighty are the guests, while standing at the banquet to fill the cups and divide the clusters amLppmrimqd the harps.nnT.welcome the guests is a daughter of God, on whose brow are the blossoms of paradise and in whose cheek is the flush of celestial summer. Her name is religion. Her ways are ways of pleasantness And her paths are peace.

It Was Nothing Extraordinary.

One of the stock of ancient legends relating to the Rock of Gibraltar relates how a young Scotch subaltern was on guard duty with a brother officer, when the latter in visiting the sentries fell over a precipice and was killetj. When the survivor was relieved from duty, he made the usual form, "Nothing extraordinary.” And this brought the brigade major dowri upon him in a rage. “What, when your brother officer on duty with you has fallen down a precipice 400 feet high and been killed, you report nothing extraordinary?” “Weel, sir,” replied the Scot, calmly, “I dina think there’s onytliliig extraordinary in it. If he had fallen down four bunder’ feet and not been killed—weel, I should hae ca’d that extrornery.”

Fortunes in Tennessee Oil.

Nearly $8,000,000 of capital has been invested in the Tennessee oil fields within the last six Qaonths, and eight counties in the up-Cumberland country are awake with industry. The great value of the oil fields was kept secret for some time by speculators, who bought up fill the land-obtainable. The latest news from the center of the Tennessee oil fields is to the effect that the most sanguine expectation* arer being realized, and that this territory is proving to be the richest section of the State. The Standard Oil Company entered the field some time ago, and there are now forty-one companies, operating 404 oil wells. These companies have arranged for tankage and are now discussing the question of the transportation of the oil by pipe lines. Judge Albion W. Tourgee has undertaken a crusade against books with uncut leaves, which he pronounces “a senseless and snobbish fad."

INDIANA INCIDENTS.

RECORD OF EVENTS OF THE PAST WEEK. |ttan and Woman Married in England Years Ago Meet Again—Mrs. Jones of Indianapolis Arouses the Ire of Judge Cox.Romnntlp Affair. Judge Marrbro, of Kentucky, was standing on the platform of the Big Four station at Fowler Thursday when the Chicago limited pulled in. In the parlor car sat a lady whom he thought he knew.He approached her and they recognized one another immediately. It was his wife, whom he married twenty years, ago in vEugiandS* She \yns the daughter of Lord Lindsley. Her father was so opposed to the marriage that he induced her to’leave him about six months after, they werq married. She relented ancPxJeeided to return to- her husband, but-w*fc informed and made to believe that Mirbro was dead. Marbro, jpeensed at his wife's, supposed infidelity, came to America. He was shortly afterward informed that she had secured a divorce from him; In a few months after their separation a son was born to Mrs. Marbro. He is now in the English navy. Gn the death of Lord Lindsley .Mrs. Marbro fell heir to $3,000,000 in estates and money. She has'since married and has three children by the second union. She was en route to visit a sister in San, Francisco. Judge Marbro is very wealthy. He is also married. He accompanied his wife-of former years to Chicago.^

Little Children Made Defendants. . An unusual scene was witnessed in, court at Indianapolis Saturday, when the officers brriught in Annie Toner. Alice Eg- * gerfield ami Willie Eggerfield, 2. 3 and 5 years of age. As the children were brought forward Judge Cox looked in open amazement, and asked if thev were the defendants. He was informed that such was the ease. Seizing the affidavit he found the name of Mrs. Jonhs as the plaintiff. He asked her to come forward immediately. She came to the desk, carrying a few sticks, which' she claimed had been thrown at her anji on account of which she expected to have the iittle ones fined. Judge Cox looked at her for a moment, and then said severely: “Madam, this case will be dismissed on motion of the prosecutor,' I think it is an outrage for anyone, and especially a woman, to have babies like these- brought into a police court. There is no occasion for such an act, and I hereby discharge them." Mrs. Jonas was accompanied by seven women, who Were to act as witnesses, and presumably to claim the usual witmess fee of $1 apiece. Will Await Fuller’s Release. J. W. Fuller, the noted forger, who was arrested and convicted at Richmond nearly three years ago, will be released from the southern prison June 15. The Philadelphia officers have notified the prison officials that they will be here with a requisition for him at that time. Fuller made a-speeinlty of swindling banks, and it is said that he succeeded in- getting money in nearly every city in the country. The sheriff of Wayne'Comity has received a letter from Chief of Police Linden of Philadelphia, stating that he will send a couple of officers who intend to stay with him from the time he leaves the prison until the law gives them the right- to seize him as their prisoner.

All Over the State. The drouth in souflieyn Indiana is becoming serious. Henry Akers, near Windfall, was kiokod to death by a colt which he was trying to halter. The School Furniture Company at Wabash, which failed in September, Will gtr 1 into a receiver’s hands. Elviu Ileek, of Shelbyville, is missing, and members of his family report that he will not return. Recently he married Miss Mae Treadway, daughter of a farmer in Bartholomew County, and an acs eomplishod and beautiful young woman, lit Was a runaway match, the parents of the bride opposing it. Thirteen days later the young bridegroom closed out bis business affairs and disappeared, although Ins wife's parents had become reconciled to the mutch. Dallas Baker, aged 19, and Thomas Ryan, aged 23, of Adrian, Mich., boarded a Chicago and Grand Trunk west-bound freight train at Vicksburg. Mich., and when about five miles east of South Bend were approached ' by two tramps, John Moore and John Cramer. Moore held a rewdver on them while Cramer robbed them.— After the robbery Moore passed his revolver to Gramer and conducted Ryan to the end of the car, where he made him jump, although the train' was running at full speed. Buker sprang upon Cramer and secured the revolver. His first shot was at. Cramer, whom he struck •far 3t\teffefl!etiug a bad wottads*' The next was at Moore, who-disappeared over the cars. When the train reached South Bend Moore and Cramer were captured. Cramer was sent to the hospital and will probably die. Moore is from Evansville. lud., and Crnmer said he lived in New York.

A stranger, supposed to be an attorney named John H. Wilson, aged 73, died at the Columbus hospital Thursday night. On his body, strapped in a belt next to his person, was $U,240 in molded nnd mildewed bills, and $1,025 in gold. He is supposed to bo from Huntington, Clarksburg or Fairmont, Va. Telegrams were sent to notify the relatives, but in each case the telegraph operator answered no such persons could be found. An attorney, Jim Jones, of Nashville, Brown County, where Wilson owns 160 acres of timber laud and two sawmills, came with letters of administration on Wilson’s estate and took charge of the money. A telegram received from the postmaster of PoiAeroy, 0., says Wilson was known there years ago ns a leather dealer. Frank Slusser, thirteen years old, of Terre Haute, tried to save his little friend, Harry Baird, who was drowning in the Wabash river, and both were carried down. Baird was rescued 1 by Harry Hossler, who rode into the water on horseback, JVhlle Carrie Harris, daughter of Conductor Charles C. Harris, was standing in the rear of her home at Elkhart, an attempt to assassinate her was made, the assassin firing at her from short range with a pistol, the ball striking her in the fleshy portion of the right arm. The young lady had recently received anonymous letters threatening her life. One hundred furnace men employed in the plate glass works at Kokomo walked out because, in their judgment, they were not allowed a sufficient number of helpers. They were pnid off nnd their places supplied. 1 Frank Pierce,, a youth of 15 years, was shot in the forehead and instantly killed near Huron Monday night by his brother Walter. Walter Pierce was mnrried last Saturday night nnd young Frank, with a number of companions, formed a charivari party, when Walter fired into the crowd with fatal effect. The young man is erased over the death of his brother at his hands %nd is constantly guarded to prevent taking his own fife. >