-THE-
-A.N EXCELLENT )
Official Organ of Washington County.
ADVERTISING MEDIUIt,
FIRST OF ALL THE NEWS.
Circulates extensively in tba Counties si i
Washington, Martin, Tyrreii and Baaufartj
Job Printing In ItsYarious Branches,
I .OO A YEAR IN ADVANCE.
"FOR GOD, FOR COfNTRT, AND FOR TRUTH."
SINGLE COPY, 5 CMsllS.
VOL. X.
PLYMOUTH, N. C, FRIDAY, MARCH 10, 1899.
NO. 25.
OUR BROKEN WALLS-
Over a winding1, wayside wall,
Ragged and rough and gray.
There crept a tender and clinging vine,
Tirelessly day by day.
At last its mantle of softest tint
Covered each jagged seam,
The straggling wall, half broken down.
Became, with that leafy, tinted crown,
Fair as an artist's dream.
tuc diiddi r? x?rn.
4 '
BY ANATOLE
The other night, while with a nuru
- ber of friends, I heard a story of a
woman who had been driven to a
strange suicide by terror and remorse.
She was highly bred and cultured.
Suspected of complicity in a crime of
which Bhe had been a mute witness,
in despair at her irreparable coward
ice, tormented by a perpetual night
mare that showed her her husband
pointing her out with his rotting fin
ger to the magistrates, she became
the helpless prey of her overwrought
nerves. A trifling circumstance de-
termined her fate. Her little nephew
was living with her. One morning, as
usual, he was learning his lesson in
the dining room; she was sitting near
by. The child began to translate,
word for word, some verses from
Sophocles. He said over the Greek
and French terms as he wrote them
out: "Kara teion, the divine head;
Iokastes,of Yoeasta; letneked, is dead
.... Sposa konnen, tearing her
hair; kalei, she calls; Laion nekron,
dead Lais. . . . Eisedomen, we
saw; ten gunaika kremasten, the
woman hanged." He wound up with
a flourish of his pen, stuck out his
' tongue violet with ink and sang:
"Hanged! hanged! hanged!" The
wretched woman, her will-power ut
terly destroyed, obeyed the sugges
tion of the thrice-heard word. She
rose without a word, without a glance,
and hastened to her room. A few
hours later the commissary of pice,
called in to investigate her violent
end, made this reflection: "I have
seen many a woman who has com
mitted suicide. This is -the first one
I've known to hang herself."
-This case recalled a similar one to
my mind, that of my uufortunate com
rade and friend, Alexandre Mansel.
In the foregoing story the heroine
was killed by a verse of Sophocles;
my friend's life was brought to an end
by a sentence of Lamprides.
Mansel, who was a schoolmate of
mine at the Lycee of Avranches, was
different from all other boys. He
seemed both older and younger than he
really was. Small and slight, at fifteen
he was afraid of all the bugaboos that
terrify children of five. He had a hor
ror of the dark. We were not fond of
him; he would have become our butt
if he had not impressed us by a cer
tain fierce pride and his record as a
clever scholar. Though he worked
spasmodically, be often stood at the
head of his class. They used to say
that he talked at night iu the dormi
tory and walked in his sleep. None
of us could swear to it, for we never
woke after our heads once touched the
pillow.
For a long time I was more curious
about him than fond of him. We sud
denly grew great friends on an excur
sion that we all took together to the
abbey of Mont St. Michel. We had
walked barefooted along the shingle,
carrying our shoes and our luncheon
on the end of our sticks, all singing
at the top cf our voices. We crossed
the drawbridge and sat down side by
side on one of the old cannon, rusted
by five centuries of rain and spray.
Looking with bis dim eyes from the
old stones to the sky, swinging his
bare feet, Alexandre abruptly spoke
to me:
"I should like to have been a knight
in the old wars. I would have taken
a hundred cannon. I would have
fought single-handed on the ramparts,
and the Archangel St. Michael would
have stood over my head like a white
cloud."
From that day on I understood
far better than before my schoolmate's
character. I discovered that it was
founded on an immense pride that I
bad not suspected. I need not tell
you that at fifteen I was not a pro
found psychologist, and Mausel's
pride was too subtle to be at first evi
dent. It extended itself to vague
chimeras and had no tangible form.
Yet it inspired all my friend's senti
ments and gave a sort of unity to his
whimsical, incoherent ideas.
During the vacation following our
excursion to Mont St. Michel, Mansel
invited me to spend a day at his
parents' home at St. Julien. Secur
ing my mother's rather unwilling con-'
sent, I started off, in a white vest and
blue tie, early one Sunday morning.
Alexandre, smiling like a happy
child, was waiting for me on the thresh
old. He led rue by the hand into the
"best room." Though the house
half rustic, half bourgeoise was
neither poor nor disorderly, I was op
pressed on entering it, so silent and
sad it was. Near the window, whose
'slightly parted curtains denoted .1 cer
tain curiosity, was seated a woman to
..1 ,iv. r imww o' 1 vx-'rbims UOt SO
Oh, for the kindness that clings and twines
Over life's broken wall,
That blossoms above the scars of pain,
Striving to bide them all!
Oh, for the helpful, ministering hands,
Beneficent, willing feet,
That spread rich mantles of tender thought
O'er life's hard places.till Time has wrought
Its healing divine, complete.
-Lanta Wilson Smith, in Youth's Companion.
T
1
f
FRANCE. f
old as she looked. She was thin and
sallow; her eyes glittered in their dark
sockets under their reddened lids. In
spite of the warm summer day she
was swathed, heac and all, in black
garments. But the strangest thing
about her was the metal circlet that
clasped her brow like a diadem.
"Here is my mother; she has her
neuralgia."
Mine. Mansel made me welcome in
a faint voice and, observing my puz
zled look, said, smiling:
""My young sir, what you take for a
crown is a magnetic circle I wear to
cure my headaches."
Mansel led me into the garden,
where we caught sight of a little bald
man gliding down the path like a
phantom. He was so frail aud slight
that he looked as if the wind would
blow him away. His uncertain gait,
his long,, thin neck craned forward,
his head no bigger than your fist, his
sidewise glances, his hopping steps,
his short arms raised like wings, gave
him quite the appearance of some new
sort of fowl. My companion told me
that it was his father, but that we
must let him go to the poultry yard,
which he infinitely preferred to all the
rest of his domain; he lived among
his hens and had almost lost the
habit of talking with human beings.
The odd little figure at thi3 moment
vanished, and loud cackling rose in
the air.
During the short stroll we took in
the garden, Mansel told me that at din
ner I would meet his grandmother;
that she was a good old soul, but that
I must not pay much attention to what
she said, as she was often a little out
of her mind.
The bell rang for dinner. M. Man
sel followed us into the house, carry
ing a basket of eggs. "Eighteen to
day," he said, in a clucking voice.
A delicious omelet appeared. I
was seated between Mme. Mansel,
sighing under her diadem, and her
mother, a round-cheeked, toothless,
old Normandy woman, who smiled
with her eyes. She seemed delight
ful to me. While we were eating our
roast duck and creamed chicken the
old lady told us amusing stories that
showed no signs of weakening facul
ties. On the contrary, she appeared
the merriest and sanest member of the
family.
After dinner we went iuto a parlor
furnished in black walnut and yellow
Utrecht velvet. ' Under the globe of
the gilt clock on the mantel lay a
purple egg that at once drew my at
tention. With a child's inexplicable
curiosity I could not take my eyes off
it. But I must add that the egg was
of a strange and splendid color a
royal purple, not in the slightest man
ner recalling the wine-colored Easter
eggs, dipped in beet-juice, that de
light the children at all the fruit
stands. I could not resist making a
remark about it.
M. Mansel replied by an admiring
cackle: "My young sir, that is not a
dyed egg, as you seem to think. It
was laid just as you see it there by a
Cingalese hen of mine.. It is a phe
nomenal egg." N
"Yon must not forget to add, my
dear," sighed Mme. Mansel, "that it
was laid the very day our Alexandre
was born."
"Just so," returned the father.
The old grandmother, in the mean
time, looked at me with mocking eyes,
and with an expressive movement of
her lips betrayed her skepticism.
"Hum!" she murmured, "hens some
times hatch what they haven't laid,
aud if some mischievous neighbor
should happen to slip into their nest
"Don't listen to her!" broke in her
grandson, violently. "You know
what I told you! Don't listen to
her!"
"It's a fact," repeated M. Mansel,
fixing his round eye on the purple
egg.
Not long after I lost sight of Alex
andre. My mothe sent me to Paris
to finish my studies. I entered the
School of Medicine. About the time
that I Mas preparing my doctor's the
sis, I received a letter from my
mother, in which she told me that my
friend had been tery ill; he had had
some strange seizure, on recovering
from which he had become exceeding
ly timid and suspicious; but he was
quite harmless, and, in spite of his
troubled health and reason.he showed
a remarkable gh't for mathematics.
This news did not surprise me. Many
a time, while studying diseases of the
nerve-centres, I had called up men
tally my poor friend from St. Julien
and, iu spite of myself, had made a
prognosis of general paralysis threat
ening this sou of a neuralgic mother
and a microcephalic, rheumatic father.
At first I seemed to be on the
wrong scent. Alexandre Mansel, on
reaching manhood, regained normal
health and gave unmistakable proofs
of his fine intellectual gifts. He car
ried on extensive mathematical studies;
he even sent to the Academy of Sci
ences the solution of several difficult
equations. Absorbed in these and
kindred subjects, he rarely found time
to write me. His letters were clear,
friendly, well composed; nothing
could be found in them to attract the
attention of the most suspicious neu
rologist. Soon, however, our corre
spondence came to an end, and for ten
years I did not get a word from him.
I was greatly suprised last year
when my servant handed me Alexan
dre Mansel's card, saying that the
gentleman was waiting for me in the
antechamber.- I was in my office dis
cussing a professional question of
some importance with a colleague.
Excusing myself for a moment, I has
tened to greet my old school-fellow.
I found him muc.li aged, bald, haggard,
fearfully emaciated. I took him by
the arm and led him into the drawing
room.
"I am delighted to see you once
more," he said, "and I have a great
deal to tell you. I am a victim of un
heard of persecutions. But I am
brave, I shall fight to the end, I shall
triumph over my enemies!
These words alarmed me, as they
would have alarmed any neurologist.
Iu them I traced a symptom of the af
fection by which my friend was threat
ened according to every law of hered
ity and which had appeared dormant
till now.
"My dear fellow," I said to him,
"you shall tell me all this later. Stay
here a moment. I am settling a little
matter in my office. Take a book to
kill time till I join you."
I have a great many books iu my
drawing room there must be 6000
volumes in the three bookcases. Why
was it that my unlucky friend picked
up the very one that could harm him
and opened it at the fatal page? I
talked for about 20 miuutes longer
with my colleague; having ushered
him out I returned to the drawing
room where I had left Mansel. I
found the unfortunate fellow in an
alarming state. He was showering
blows on a book open before him that
I at once recognized as a translation
of the "History of Augustus. " In a
loud voice he kept repeating this sen
tence of Lamprides: "On the day
when Alexander Severns was born, a
hen belonging to the father of the
babe laid a red egg, a presage of the
imperial purple which the child was to
assume."
His excitement rose to fury. He
foamed at the mouth. He shouted:
"The egg, the egg that was laid on
my birthday! I am an emperor! I
know you want to kill me! Don't
come near me, wretch!"
He paced rapidly up and down.
Then coming back toward me, with
his arms spread wide, he said: "My
friend, my old comrade, what do you
want me to give you? Emperor!
emperor! my father was right the
purple egg emperor I shall aud must
be scoundrel! why did you hide
that book from me? I will punish
you for high treason Emperor! em
peror! I must be it! yes, it is my
duty!"
He rushed out. I vainly tried to
stop him. He escaped from me. The
rest is well known. All the papers
told how on leaving my house he
bought a revolver and blew out the
brains of the sentinel who barred the
gate of the Elysee palace against him.
Thus a phrase written in the fourth
century by a Latin historian causes
1500 years later the death of au un
lucky French soldier. Who will
ever unravel the skein of cause
and effect? Who can be sure
of saying, "I know what I am
doing," as he performs some trifling
act? This is all there is to tell. The
rest concerns only medical statistics
and can be summed up in a few
words. Mansel, placed in a private
asylum, remained there a fortnight iu
a state of violent madness. Then he
lapsed into utter imbecility, during
which his gluttony led him to eating
the wax used for polishing the floors.
He choked to death, three months ago,
swallowing a sponge. Argonaut.
Killed a Vampire.
The other morning Mr. E. M. Riley
killed a vampire in his room on Lamar
street. It measured 13 1-8 inches
from tip to tip of wings and 5 inches
from nose to end of tail. Its body
was covered with purplish-gray fui
like satin. Its wings were brownish
black, and to the touch were like soft
silk. Its head resembled a bulldog's.
When held to the floor by Mr.- Riley
with a stick it emitted a hissing noise
like a goose. It is several times the
size of a leather wing bat. Selma
Times.
"Is Civilization a Failure?"
A Johannesburg Zarp "rushed" two
natives for a sovereign each on the
ground that their passes were not
in order. The "nigs," while readily
"parting," took note of the Zarp's
number and reported him, "and he has
uow four months in which to meditate
on the progress of civilization among
the aborigines of South Africa. Afii
cau Review.
OUR FARMERS IN LUCK.
Made More Money in 1898 Than Ever Be
fore in the Country's History.
The farmers of this country mada
more money in 1898 than ever before
in its history. The statistical report
from the department of agriculture
shows unprecedented crops, unpre
cedented prices and unprecedented
prosperity. The corn crop in 1896
amounted to 2,283,875,166 bushels,
valued at $449,276,030; in 1S.)7 it was
1,902,967,933 bushels, valued at $501,
072,852. In 1898, according to pres
ent estimates, the volume was not only
largely iucreased, but the farm vnlue
of corn throughout the country aver
ages 2.4 cants a bushel more thau in
1897.
The wh at croo in 1896, at 72 cents
a bushel, was valued at $427,684,346;
in 1897, at 80.8 per bushel, it was
valued at $428,547,121. The increase
in 1898 was 1,411,692 acres, the largest
iu history, and the crop was unprece
dented iu quality, quantity and
price.
The barley crop in 1897 was worth
$25,142,139 at 37 cents a bushel. The
figures for 189S are not in yet.bnt the
price is 41.4 cents a bushel and the
preliminary report shows a crop slight
ly above the average. The same may
be said of rye, which is quoted at 46. 3
cents a bushel, against 44.7 iu 1897.
The farm price for oats in 1898, ac
cording to the official figures of the
agricultural department, is 25.6 ceut9
a bushel, against 21.2 for 1897 and
19.5 in 1896. The totals are not in
yet, but in 1897 the crop was valued
at $147,974,719.
Potatoes are now worth 41.4 cents a
bushel on the farm, which is a large
falling off from 1897, when they sold
for 54.7 cents, but it is said that the
difference will be more thau made up
by the increase in the volume of the
crop, which is believed to be 21 per
cent, greater tban in 1897, when the
total was valued at $88,643,059.
The hay crop of the United States
in 1897 was valued at $401,390,728,
with hay selling at $6.62 a ton. Iu
1898 the crop was the best on record,
and it is selling on an average of $6 a
ton throughout the country.
During the calendar year ended
December 31, the value of the bread
stuffs sold abroad was $317,000,000,
provisions $174,000,000 and cotton
$233,000,000, making a total of $724,
000,000 worlh of farm products ex
ported and sold at better, prices than
were ever known before.
An Unexpected Phaitc.
One afternoon recently a Brush ave
nue mother conscientiously decided
that her blue-eyed boy needed a vig
orous application of the hair-brush
treatmeut and armed herself with the
intention of giving it. But the lad,
disagreeing with her diagnosis of the
case, sought safety in flight and
brought up in the attic. This is
reached from the floor below by a
short ladder and through an aperture
that is not calculated to pass large
people. The mother belongs to this
class and made a vain effort to follow
the fugitive from justice. She flour
ished the brush and commanded him
to come out, but he refused and ir
reverently jeered at her efforts to
reach him. When the father came
home to dinner he Mas i.iformed of
the situation and grew wroth as he lis
tened to the ex-parte presentation of
the case. He would have that boy if
he had to tear the house down, aud
started for the attic. It was close
work, and his surprise could not be
expressed in words when the boy, in
stead of cowering in a corner, came
heartily to his assistance.
"Try to wriggle through, dad,"
urged the lad, as he renewed his hold
under the paternal arms and pulled
for all he was worth. "Keep wig
gling. It's a close lit, but you'll make
it. Never mind the shirt. There you
are," as the father came through.
"We're in great luck. I thought she'd
chase you up here as soon as you got
home. Come over here and sit down
till she cools off."
What could you do with a boy like
that? Detroit Free Press.
Unfortunately.
"Yes, that's his picture," explained
Margaret Empstead proudly as she
handed the photograph of a young
man to Dorothy Green, who had just
run in for a minute on her way down
town, "he had it taken the day after
we became engaged."
"Is that so?" queried Dorothy, as
she scrutinized the picture closely.
"Yes. He isn't so handsome,"
went on Margaret, "but there's some
thing attractive about his face, don't
you think?"
"Indeed I do," replied Dorothy.
"I've often thought about it, you
know," continued the fiancee, "aud I
think it's one of those faces that grow
on you,. don't you?"
"Yes," answered Dorothy with a
little curl to her lip, "I should imag
ine so. It grew on him, didn't it?"
Detroit Free Press.
A Possible Millionaire.
"Blottas?" asked the swarthy ped
dler, putting his head inside the door.
"Blotters?" echoed the man stand
ing up at the desk. "I should say not.
This is an insurance office, (let
along,"
"Yessa," said the swarthy peddler.
"Got any blottas for g've away!"
Chicago Tribune,
DE. TALMAGES SEKM0N.
SUNDAY'S DISCOURSE BY THE NOTED
DIVINE.
Subject: "Advice to Commercial Drum
mer" Many Are ' the Temptations
That Beiet Traveling Men Christian
Associations Necessary.
Text: "The chariots shall rage In the
streets; they shall justle one against an
other in the broad ways; they shall seem
like torches; they shall run like the light
nings." Nahum ii., 4.
It has been found out that many of the
arts and discoveries which we supposed
were peculiar to our own age are merely
the restoration of the arts and discoveries
of thousands of years ago. I suppose that
the past centuries have forgotten more
than the present century knows. It seems
to me that they mubt have known thou
sands of years ago in the days of Nineveh
of the uses ot steam and its application to
swift travel. In my text I hear the rush of
the rail train, the clang of the wheels and
the jamming of the car couplings. "The
cnariots shall rage in the streets; they
shall justle one against another in the
broadways; they shall seem like torches;
they shall run like the lightnings."
Have you ever taken your position in the
night far away from a depot along the
track waiting to see the rail train come at
full speed? At first you heard in the dis
tance a rumbling, like the coming of a
storm, then you saw the flash of the head
light of the locomotive as it turned the
eurve; then you saw the wilder glare of the
fiery eye of the train as it came plunging
toward you; then you heard the shriek of
the whistle that frenzied all the echoes;
then you saw the hurricane dash of cin
ders; then you felt the jar of the passing
earthquake and you saw the shot thunder
bolt of the express train. Well, it seems
that we can hear the passing of a midnight
express train in my text, "The chariots
shall rage in the streets; they justle one
against another in the bread ways; they
shall seem like torches; they shall run like
the lightnings."
I halt the train long enough to get on
board, and I go through the cars, and I
find three-fourths of the passengers are
commercial travelers. They are a folk
peculiar to themselves, easily recognized,
at home on all tbe trains, not startled by
the sudden dropping of the brakes, familiar
with all the railroad signals, can tell you
what is the next station, how long the train
will stop, what place the passengers take
luncheon at, can give you information on
almost any subject, are cosmopolitan, at
home everywhere from Halifax to San
Francisco. They are on the 8 o'clock
morning train, on the noon truir., on the
midnight train. You take a berth in a
sleeping car, and either above you or be
neath you is one of these gentlemen. There
are 100,000 professed commercial .travelers
in the United States, but 500,000 would
not include all those who are some
times engaged iu this service. They
spend millions of dollars every day in
the hotels and in the rail trains. They
have their official newspaper organ. They
have their mutual benefit association,
about 4000 names on the rolls, and have al
ready distributed more than $200,000
among families of deceased members.
They are ubiquitous, unique, and tre
mendous for good or evil. All the ten
dencies of merchandise are toward their
multiplication. The house that stands
back on its dignity and waits for customers
to come, instead of going to seek bargain
makers, will have more and more unsalable
goods on, the shelf and will gradually lose
its control of the markets. While the
great, enterprising and successful houses
will have their agents on. all the trains,
and "their chariots will rage in the streets,
they shall justle one against another in
the broad ways. They shall seem like
torches, they shall run like the light
nings." I think commercial travelers can stand a
ermon of warm hearted sympathy. If you
have any words of good cheer for them,
you had better utter them. If you have
any good, honest prayers in their behalf,
they will be greatly obliged to you. I never
knew a man yet who did not like to be
prayed for; I never knew a man yet that did
not'like to be helped. It seems to me this
sermon is. timely. At this season of the
year there are tens of thousands of men
going out to gather the spring trade.
The bitter curse of Almighty God will
rest upon that commercial establishment
which expects its employes to break the
Sabbath. What right has a Christian
merchant to sit down in church on the
Sabbath wUen his clerks are traveling
abroad through the land on that day? Get
up, professed Christian merchant, so act
ing. You have no business here. Go out
and call that boy back. There was a mer
chant In 1837 who wrote: "I should have
been a dead man had it not been for the
Sabbath. Obliged to work from morning
until night through the whole week, I felt
on Saturday, especially on Saturday after
noon, tbac I must have rest. It was like
going into a dense fog. Everything looked
dark and gloomy as If nothing could be
saved. I dismissed all and kept the Sab
bath in the old way. On Monday it was all
sunshine, but had It not been for the Sab
bath, I huve no doubt I should have been
in my grave."
Be ashamed to sell foreign fabrics or fruits
unless you know something about the
looms that wove them or the vineyards
that grew them. Understand all about the
laws that control commercial life, about
baukiug, about tariffs, about markets,
about navigation, about foreign people
their characteristics and their political
revolutions as they affect ours; about the
harvests of Russia, the vineyards of Italy,
the teaflelds of China. Learn about the
great commercial centres of Carthage and
Assyria and Phoenicia. Read all about the
Medici of Florence, mighty In . trade,
mightier in philanthropies. You belong
to the royal family of merchants. Be
worthy of that? royal family. Ob, take my
advice and turn the years of weariness into
years of luxury.
But you have come now hear the end of
your railroad travel. You begin business.
Now, let me say, there are two or three
things you ought to remember. First,
that all the trade you get by the prac
tice of "treating" will not stick. If" you
cannot get custom except by tipping a
wineglass with somebody, you had better
not get his custom. An old commercial
traveler gives as hfs experience that trade
got by "treating" always damages the
bouse that gets It in one way or the
other.
O commercial traveler, though your Arm
may give you the largest salary of any
man in your line, though they might give
you ten per cent, of all you sell, or twenty
per cent, or fifty per cent, or ninety-nine
per cent., they cannot pay enough to make
it worth your while to ruin your souli
Besides that, a commercial house never
compensates a man who has been morally
ruined in their employ. A young man in
1'hiladeipbia was turned out from his era
ploy because of inebriation got in tr-e
service of the merchant who employed
him, and here is the letter he wrote to his
rnployer:
"Sir I casae tato your service uacor-
rupt in principles and in morals, but the
rules of your house required me to spend
my evenings at places of public entertain
ment and amusement in search of custom
ers. To accomplish my work in your ser
vice I was obliged to drink with them and
join them In their pursuits of pleasure. It
was not my choice, but the rule of the
house. I went with them to the theatre'
and the billiard table, but it was not my
choice. I did not wish to go; I went in
your service. It was not my pleasure so to
do, but I was the conductor and compan
ion of the simple ones, void alike of under
standing and of principles, in tbeir sinful
pleasures and deeds of deeper darkness,
that I might retain them aa your custom
ers. Your interest required it. I have
added thousands of dollars to the profits of
your trade, but at what expense you now
see, and I know too well. You have be
come wealthy, but I am poor indeed, and
now this cruel dismissal from your employ
is the recompense I receive for a character
ruined and prospects blasted In helping to
make you a rich man!" Alas for the man
who gets such a letter as that!
Again, I charge you, tell the whole truth
about anything you sell. Lying commer-'
cial travelers will precede you. Lying
commercial travelers will come right aftftr
you into the same store. Do not let their
unfair competition tempt you from the
straight line. It is an awful bargain that
a man makes when he sells his goods and
his soul at the same time. A young man in
one of the stores of New York was selling
some silks. He was binding them up when
he said to the lady customer, "It is myi
duty to show you, that there is- a fracture
in that silk." She looked at it and rejected :
the goods. The head of the firm, hearing
of it, wrote to the father of the young man
in the country, saying: "Come and take
your son away. He will never make a
merchant." The father came In agitation,
wondering what his boy had been doing,
and the head men of the firm said: "Why,"
your son stood here at this counter and
pointed out a fracture In the silk, and of
course the lady wouldn't buy it. We are
not responsible for the ignorance of cus- .
turners. Customers must look for them
selves. Your son will never make a mer
chant." "Is" that all?";said the father.
"Ah! I am prouder of my boy that I ever
was. John, get your hat and come home."
But it is almost night, and you go back
to the hotel. Now comes the mighty tug
for the commercial traveler. Tell me where
he spends his evenings, and I will tell you
where he will spend eternity, and I will tell
you what will be his worldly prospects.
There is an abundance of choice. There ia
your room with the books. There are the
Young Men's Christian Association rooms.
There are the week night services of the
Christian churches." There is the gamb
ling Saloon. There i3 the theatre. There
is the house of infamy. Plenty of places
to go to. .But which, O immortal man,
which? O God, which? "Well," you say,
"I guess I will I guess I will go to the
theatre." Do you think the tarrying In
that place until 11 o'clock at night will im
prove your bodily health, or your financial
prospects, or your eternal fortunes? No
man ever lound the path to usefulness, or
honor, or happiness, or commercial suc
cess, or heaven through the American the---atre.
"Well," you say, "I guess, then, L
will go to I guess I will go to the gambl
ing saloon." You will first go to look.
Then you will goto play. You will make
$100. you will make 500, you will make
$1000, you will make $1500. Then you will
lose all. Then you will borrow some
money so as to start anew. You will make
f 50, you will make f 100, you will make.
$G00. Then you will lose all. 1 These
wretches ot the gambling saloon know how
te tempt you. But mark this: All gamblers
die poor. They may make fortunes
great fortunes but they lose them.
. But now the question is still open
Where will you spend your evening? O
commercial travelers, how much will you
give me to put you on the right tract?
Without charging you a farthing I will
prescribe for you a plan which will save
you for this world and the next, if you will
take It. Go, before you leave home, to the
Young Men's Christian Association ol the
city where you live. Get from them letters
of introduction. Carry them out to the
towns and cities where you go. If there be
nr such association in the placo you visit,
then present them at the door of Christ'
tian churche, and hand them over to.
:he pastors. B9 not slow to arise in the
devotional meeting and say: "I am a com
mercial traveler. I am far away from
home, and I come in here to-night to seek
Christian society." The best houses and
highest style ot amusement will open be
fore you, and instead of your being de
pendent upon the leprous crew who hang
around the hotels, wanting to show you all '
the slums of the city, on the one condition
that you will pay their expenses, you will
get tbe benediction of God in every town
you visit. Remember this, ;that whatever
place you visit bad influences will seek yoti
out. Good influences you must seek out.
, While I stand here I bethink myself of a
commercial traveler who was a member of
my church iu Philadelphia. He was a,
splendid ung man, the pride of his wid
owed in or and of his sisters. It was his
joy to .-u, port them, aud for that purpose
lie postponed his own marriage day.. He
thrived " iu business, and after awhile
set up his own household. Leaving that
city for auother city, I had no oppor
tunity for three or four years of making
iuquiry ia regard to him. When I made
such inquiry, I was told that he was
dead. The story was, he was largely
generous and kind-hearted and genial and
social, and he got into the habit of "treat
ing" customers and of showing them all
the sights of the town, and he began rapid
ly to go down, and he lost his position in
the church of which he was a member, and
he lost his position in the commercial
house of which be was the best agent, and
his beautiful young wife and his sick old
mother and his sisters went into destitu
tion, and he, as a result ot his dissipation,
died in Klrkbride Insane Asylum.
O commercial travelers, I pray for vou
the all sustaining grace of God. There are
two kinds of days when yon are especially
in need of divine grace. The one, the day
wtien you have no success when you fail
to iiiake a sale aud you are very much
disappointed, and you go back to your ho
tel discomfited. That night you will, be
tempted to go to strong drink and rush in
to bad surroundings. The other day,
when you will especially need divine grace,
will be when you have had a day of great
success and the devil tells you you must
go and eeiebrate that success. Tnen you
will want the grace ot God to restrain
you 2 -oiu rollu-king indulgences. Yes,
there will be a third day when you will
need to be Christians, and that will be the
last day of your life. I do not know when
you will spend it. Perhaps in your house,
more probably iu a rail car, or a steamer,
or the strunge hotel. I see you on your
last commercial errand. You have bidden
goodby to the iumily at home for tbe last
time. "The train of your earthly exiatenca
is wearing th depot of the grave. -The
brakes are failing. The bell rings at the
ter;ninue. Tlie train stops. AU out for ,
eternity. Show your ticket now for get
ting iuto the ga:e of tbe shining city the
red ticket washed in the blood of the Lamb.
Aluminum is now being used extensively!
s ; a noductor of e'erricltv. j