North Carolina Newspapers

PRESS; VOLUME XIX. FRANKLIN; N. C. WEDNESDAY. AUGUST 3, 1904. NUMBEll 31 THE-.FRANK LIN "FATHER, GO Bent np to bed In the dark, alone. Where ill of Iho comers were weird and dim And the shape aud the shadows watted hlra At every turning my little son, Sent for tome childish misuhlef done At the hour when childish hearts are high With joy of tho evening's revelry And hl fault at worjt waa a tiny one) A wistful moment his feet delayed, Waiting to let my face relent, And then, a pitiful penitent. His faltering, frightened way he mode; But up In the stairway's deepest shade, I heard hlin pause where their shad ow crowd And whisper, "Father," and sob aloud, "Father, go with me, I'm afraid! " CHARLIE PARKER'S NIGHT RIDE. By MARY tMTtTTTTMMtltlllll 1 1 M I M ! Charlie Parker clenched bis hands tightly to keep from crying. They had gone after Captain Moonlight and his men, and they bad left him behind. He and his little gray pony knew the way far better than any bushman among them. The manifold Injustice of It came homo to him bitterly, and he dropped his head on his hands and tried to keep back the tears. Hark! what was that? The sound of trotting horses. His sharp car caught It before his mother. The door of the sitting room opened onto the veranda, and ho rushed toward It. There came a mighty blow on tho door, It flew open and the boy's heart gave a leap of terror. A bearded man stood In the doorway, a plBtol In his band, and two other men were peering over his shoulder. His little slBters began to cry, his mother stood dazed, and the newcom ers looked at the table spread with good things. "Now, youngster, tell me true" and the leader caught tho boy roughly by the arm "Is there anybody else here?" Charlie debated a moment In his own mind. The bushranger gave him a shake that nearly shook the llfo out of him. "No, no," said be, blurting out the truth; "they've all gone looking for you!" "And where have they gone to, my young friend?" But Charlie was recovering his self possession. "Up to the head of the Klewa," lied he cheerfully. He felt they would be quite content If they thought the enemy were so far away. The dreaded bush rangers seemed to him very common place, after all. "Now, look here, youngster, you're not to go cutting oil to the head of ijht fflPTTW trli your whs what s hap pened." rvnni, me: ine cminisu oiue eyes grew very round. "Oh, don't send me up there! There's the ghost of tho old shepherd the blacks speared comes along the night windy nights, and howls. I Just daresn't go!" His mother looked up In astonish ment at this new development, and Charlie wanted to wink at her, but he thought It better not. "My word, you'd better behave your self," said the leader. "Now, lady, we'll trouble you for some supper; and send the kldB to bed." Charley went with apparent reluc tance, but once In his bedroom he soft ly opened tho window and slipped out Into the rain and wind. It was so pitchy dark he could only feel his way, but at last he found himself in the stable and Tidy's soft nose was nuz iling Into his breast. Many and many a time had he sad dled Tidy In the dark for the fun of the thing, pretending he was In desper ate danger, on some fearful quest; and now behold ho was now acting the part In real esarnest. And Tidy un derstood so thoroughly. She stood so till while he put on saddle and bridle, and she stepped after him so softly as even be could desire as he led her out through the trampled mud of the yard. Down hill they went, getting far ther and farther from the house. He walked In all the muddy places, to deaden the sound of the hoof-beats If Indeed, they could be heard above the sound of the storm; but It was not till he was outside the home paddock, but on the ranges, that he put his foot In the stirrup, swung himself Into the saddle, and set oft down the muddy track. He was far too good a bush man, for all his tender years, to urge his horse In the pitchy dark;, they could only feel their way along this rongh track to the accompaniment of shrieking storm and groaning and snapping branches. He could hear the great gum-boughs rubbing against each other; he could hear them snap ping and breaking oft - and coming crashing' down among the fern and scrub and sndergrowth, and he real ized his danger. Then a watery moon broke through the clouds, a moon that made the shadows very dark; but, at least, he was enabled to go little quicker, and at last he saw, with a sigh of thankfulness, the big, white stump that marked the place where he must leave the track and take to the scrub.. v:."" ' He must go up hill now, and It was frightfully steep. He dismounted, -tied the reins to the pony's saddle, and called to her to follow him. The grass -was sllnnery with the rain. Every now and again a stone slipped beneath his feet and went crashing down the hillside, and tho mud where It had been was stilt more slippery. He hauled himself np by catching at the fern and swinging himself on to the saplings, and only now and again the moon came out and showed him where ha was and what he should do next. There was no track. All he had to do was to get at the top of the ridge and get down somehow to the other side, and, If he-possibly-could, get his pony up too. More than once ire went back and called to her with encouraging words; more Own once he caught her bridle and steadied her np a " steep pinch; and 'more than once he sat down and thought he should have to leave her. But If ever bar honKht that, and went on ahead - WITH ME." Quick ns bis calling my ' tor leapt, Wrong as Ills terror my suiciding arma Folded hlin close from the night's Hinrilis, Pheltrrvd aud comforted while he wept; up iu ine nursery ugnt 1 Kept A tender watch till he smiled again. Till the sobs of bis bait-remembered pain Lessened and bushed, and the baby : Slept, y Father of Love, when my diy It done And all of my trespasses written lu, fot for a thoughtless or wilful sin Send ine out In the dark alone; But so as I answered my little son, Cme to the prayer of my pleading breath And lead me safe through the nlgbt of death. Father of Light, when my light Is gone) N. B. Turner, in Washington Star. GAUNT. a little, through the darkness and the rain came a plaintive whinny, as if she knew his thoughts, and was im ploring to be taken on. Then he would go back and call her and pat her, and she would make an other desperate effort and get up the steep pinch, and he would go on again. How they got up that ridge he never knew, but they got to the top at last, and he put his arm round her neck and fairly hugged her with delight The rain stopped, and the moon came out clear among the stormy look ing clouds nnd showed him miles and miles of tree-tops stretching away down to the bottom of tho gully, and then, right up again on the other side, nothing but massed trco-tops; and underneath he knew was the nibbed hillside scarred with water courses, with fallen logs and Btumps, and still more dangerous, here and there an abandoned shaft, down which loth ho and the pony might fall and be never more heard of. The wind was shrieking through the trees, and they were bending and swaying before It. He could hear their boughs creaking together; the night seemed to be full of weird cries. He looked up at the moon, took his bearings, and plunged Into the scrub again. He must keep the moon on his left. He would be able to catch glimpses of her now and again through the branches, quite enough to keep in the right direction. He must reach the bottom of the gully, and then make his way along it to where, his father and the others were camped. It was hard work climbing down the hill. Run he dared not, because In the gloom and darkness under the trees here he could not see what ob stacles lay in his way, so he felt his way carefully, though every bone In his body was beginning to ache with fatigue, and Tidy picked her way deli cately At his heels. lie fell more than once. He was covered with mire and mud, he was wet to the skin, and his clothes were torn to ribbons, but he was very near ly at the bottom of the gully now. Tho clouds were clearing fast, and the moonlight was Altering through the trees. He could see the bare ground in places, with the water rushing over it. Then suddenly, without warning, he slipped and fell. He made a grab at a branch as he passed, but It broke off In his hand. He was inclined to laugh as he went slipping down; It al most seemed as If he could stop It he liked as he slid along the ground. He dug his heels in an another effort to stop, a stone gave beneath his feet, and before he could help himself he bad brought up with a crash against a stump, the night seemed to be full of light, and then for a little he knew no more. He wakened to And something warm nuzzling against his neck. "Tidy," he said, putting up his hand; and for a moment he could not make out where he was. He tried to sit up, and then there broke -on the night wind the long-drawn, quavering howl of the dingoes. It sounded weird and uncanny, and made him feel awfully lonely. He pulled himself together. He bad heard the dingoes many a time; he only wondered he had not heard them before tonight. There waa nothing to be afraid of; they cer tainly would not attack him as long as he was well and strong. He won dered if he had been here long. It seemed a long time since he remem bered slipping and Blidlng down. He made an. effort to get on his feet, and then he fell back with a cry that startled the pony, as an agonizing pain shot through his foot, and, as if to emphasize his helplessness, the long drawn whimper of the dingoes sound ed close at hand. He lost bis head for a moment. He pictured himself' lying there helpless. and the cowardly dingoes coming down and fighting over him, He was only a little boy, he -felt, and what could he do to defend himself? And then be made the air ting with shouts for "Dad!" But there was no answer. And when be stopped and listened there was only the whimpering 'howl of the dingoes, the creaking of the boughs overhead, the shrieking of the wind and the water trickling down the hillside. And he had come to save his home from the bushrangers! He turned over on his face for a moment and sobbed heart brokenly, whether for the waiting mother on the other side of the ranges, or because he was alone here in the wild night, be could not have said himself. The burst of sobbing eased him a little,, and be sat up and felt cautiously down his Injured leg. It hurt him even to touch It about the ankle. , If he could only mount Tidy! And he. made another effort to stand up, which sent him sobbing on to the ground again. Tidy seemed to under stand, and she put her nose against his face, and sniffed softly. He leaned his tear-stained "cheek against It with a great sense of comfort, and then the moon came through the trees and showed him ha had fallen against a stump. The tree had been felled, and the wood cutter had done It In separate Steps. The top of the stump where be had fallen was quite oiose tc the ground, but there waa a step np In the middle that made It higher on the other side. It he could wriggle on to the top of the stump he might manage to mount Tidy. . He struggled to his knees. ' The pain made him feel sick, but It had to be done, and he leaned up against the stump before he made another effort. Then he put the knee of the Injured foot on the flrBt step, and though it throbbed and beat, the first step was accomplished, and the next moment he was sitting on the top step of the stump calling Tidy to come up to him. Well for htm he had trained his pony to answer to him that. In fantastic plays, he had found occasion to mount her in all sorts of fashions. She stood there waiting by the stump now In this moment of his mortal need, and the next he dropped Into the saddle, and though he dared not attempt to put his left foot Into the stirrup, and every movement made him quiver and sob with pain, It was such a little way farther now, surely, surely he could ac complish it! He gave the pony her head. "Go on, Tidy!" And though he was obliged to clutch the pommel of his saddle to keep In his seat, at all, the surefooted Utile beast seemed to un derstand what was required of her, and slipped and scrambled down the hillside. The wet branches swept his face, and moro than once his heart sank as they threatened to sweep bim from tho saddle as well, and he drew a long breath when the pony made a pause as, with a final long slip, she reached the bottom. Then he made shift to turn her head down the gully, and Bhe had not 'gone a mile before a man started up out of tho gloom and caught her head, and, with a great sigh of relief, he heard his Undo Jack's voice. "What the deuce have wo here?" He had stumbled, with a luck he had hardly cared count on, right Into his father's camp. Some one struck a match, and he saw the bearded face under the dripping brim of the hat. "Dad," he gasped, "the bushrangers have struck up Rosebank. 1 came across the ranges to tell you." "Acro88 the ranges with the pony? The bushrangers?" said his father, In credulously. But Charlie had strained his powers to the utmost Ho fainted away. When be awoke he was In his own little bed, his mother was beside him, and bis uncle and father were stand ing in the window. "I tell you, old man," his Uncle Jack, was saying, "he's the pluckiest little beggar you ever saw! Upon my word, I'd be sorry to come down some of those places In broad daylight; but he fetched his pony along, and even when he broke his leg didn't give In. Game! my word! If Australia's going to breed many of that sort, England may be Tjud of, her!" "Did you get them?" asked Charlie; and he was surprised to find how weak his own voice sounded. His uncle wheeled round. "Get them? No! But that's no fault of yours, my lad. One of those fools let off his carbine, and they scooted like so many waterhen." "Tidy," said Charlie weakly. "I'm afraid "her knees must be cut. She slipped badly, and I couldn't help It. What will father say?" "Say?" said his father's tender voice "that's he got the pluckiest young son In the southern hemisphere, and he's awfuly proud of him!" And then, to his own dismay and shame, Charlie Parker burst into tears. New York News. QUAINT AND CURIOUS. One in eight of all Americans was born In Europe. The bamboo has been known to grow two feet in 24 hours. The great bulk of chalk Is composed of eight different species of tiny shells. All the cork used In the world In a year weighs a little over one thousand tons. The Bank of England contains sliver which has lain in its vaults since 1696. It Is said that an American dress maker will do three times as much work In a day as a dressmaker tn France. In Spain the old clothes man wearB as many of bis old clothes as he can, because it makes him look prosperous and thereby Invites custom. Al French dog catcher lakes no chances of receiving Injury from a sick dog. He seizes the animal with a pair of lond handled pinchers. A German inn keeper on the SwIbs border has undertaken as a result of a wager to roll a barrel full of wine across Switzerland and Italy to Rome, Italy and Spain has fewer houses in proportion to their population than any other country in the world; the Argentine Republic and Uruguay have the most . , i What Is said to be the largest arsenic mine In the world, and stated to be at present turning out 70 tons a month, Is situated In Flyod county, Va., 17 tallies from Christlanburg, the nearest railroad point. . : The wife of a Chicago millionaire has had a scent, distilled from some variety of water Illy that Is said to be worth $126 a drop.' It takes thous ands of blooms of water lilies) to make a very small bottleful. , The Kite In Korea. Everybody knows the fondness ot the adult Chinese for kite flying. The Korean, however, puts this pastime to a use altogether novel When the time . Of good resolutions comes around at the new year the Korean writes on a kite all his faults, "Evil disposition, Impatience, . had words, street lights; etc." "It was so dark, says one American residing in Korea, relating such an Instance, "that no kite could be seen, but when he had ran the string out to Its full length he cut It and let It go, Imagining that' he had rid himself of hl ene mies and could begin the new year with new courage." FIRE IN THE TALL GRASS HOW THE WESTERN COWBOYS FIGHT PRAIRIE FUAME8. Heroism of the Ranchmen Sacks Soaked With Watef Used as Wea pons to Beat Back Conflagration ; The Firemen of the Plains. The "firemen of the plains" work with a system each man knowing .'what is expected of him and bravely executing It like firemen of. tho city. Cowboys are the "fire lighters of the plains," andburnlng grass Is the ma terial consumed, says tho Fort Worth (Tex.) Record. We wilt take, for Illustration, the great Espuela or "spur" ranch In the lower Panhandle country of northwest Texas, and go back a dozen years, when destructive fires were moro fre quent than they are now. Hundreds of cowboys were employed on that ranch, living In camps widely separ ated, covering the unsettled counties , of Dickons, Crosby, Garza and Kent. Great and very destructive prsirio flres often occurred, nnd systematic plans were adopted to fight successful ly tho devouring element, which not only involved a great loss ot grass but of stock also. One of the most succcsbIiiI plans was tho following: It was understood among the men nt tho various camps thnt when a STiioko was discovered ascending from Iho prairie each and every cowboy must saddle his horse and gallop awny toward the fire straight out in a line from the camp. This had to be done at night also, tho fire then being detected by Its light; and the boys would come from every direction, striking tho line of fire at many different points almost at the same time. If the fire had spread much, tho men from tho different camps would sometimes be many miles from each other, those from the same station going In a squad together. It It was at night the scene would bo one of wild and weird grandeur. The great lino of fire, tho galloping horses as the cowboys approached it. somo from camps on opposite sides; their forms and thoso of their horses standing In relief In the bright glare of tho burning grass. Herds of hol lowing, frightened, stampeding cattlo made the scene more terrible and ex citing as thoy ran before the pursu ing, crackling, roaring flames. Above the din could be hoard loud shouts of command from leaders of the assem bling men which would remind sol diers of a battlefield. The resemblance became more realistic when rapid pis tol shots were heard far out on the pralrlo in the midst of the running cat tle. the men were not standing still on their horseB; the fire was trav elling, and they were going with It un til ready to begin their attack. Cattlo must be sacrificed to save cattle. As soon. as an animal fell, four cowboys dismounted and sharp knlveB and hatchets were at work, and in less time than it takes to toll the Blaln animal was cut in twain. The halves were split so as to lay flat upon tho ground, and to each hoof the end of a rone was fastened, the other end be ing around the pommel of a cowboy's saddle. They dashed ajay to the line of fire, dragging the several parts after them. When they have reached this, two iiien would cross-plunge through the blaze. Tom tried it, but his horse wheeled and turned away from tho blare, tnortlng loudly and In terror. "Glvo ine your end of the rope, Tom, one of the other men said; "I can go over; Black Duncan will face It," and with a great plunge he cleared the line of Are. One of the other two also crossed, and without a moment's halt and with scorched faces they wheeled their horses and ran parallol with the fire, dragging the bloody half of the beet over II, smotheilng the fife out as fast as their horses could run and drag the weight. One man was then one one side of the fire and the other on tho opposite, each with his rope to the foot of a beef, straddling the blaze and beating out the greater part of It They wore slick duck jackets and lflglngs upon which the fire could not easily take hold, it was hot work however. They could get only the length of their ropes from the Are. The two men with the other half of tie beef were going in the opposite direction, taking the other end of the line of Are. Suppose the fire was trav eling south and the lino extendlrg east and west; tvto d-.j,?cl east and two dragged went, fast receding from each other, anil' every moment the black streak woui-1 mark thu trail at the smothered flames. While these four moa were getting ready io do this worit othor cn'.vboys were sitting on their horses nearby, their faces lit up by the burning grass and cheering their companions, who were crossing the Are line to fight the main battle. Those, however, who were Idle had their, work to do. Each held a rolled stick in his right hand, and when the breach was made In the fire line they divided their forces, and followed the boys who were sweeping the flames in ordor to extinguish effectually any which might be left. . Unextinguished spots wete left sometimes by the plunge of a scorched horse jerking the drag out of the line ot Are, ot by Its striking. great bunch of hard turf and jumping over a spot , - Very often cowboys that carry the drags bad to hunt weak spots to cross, or else there. would be danger of horse and rider perishing in the efforts to get through. Before the plan described 'was put in practice wagons loaded with water and tow sacks were run to a Are, and the boys had to dismount and Aght the flames with wet sacks.' They were supplied with these by men galloping back and forth between the wagons and Are fighters. "The dry, hot sacks were carried back as fast as wot ones Were furnished. The other plan was tbe best, being more rapid and efficient. Horses would got crippled and men burned at' times, especially when the wind was high those on the windward side being most exposed. Some have been known to stav In their saddles during a long' run until the skin would peel from the side of the face that was next to the line of fire. TRADE IN OLD RUBBER Big Demand for Shoes, Tires and Any thing That Contains the Material. . In conversation with the manager of one of the retail shoe stores In this city last week a New York Times re porter was told that the house had realized from S1000 to 500 from the sale of old rubbers that had been left In the store by customers during last year. A liberal sum had fallen into the firm's hand every year for the past de cade, but owing to the high cost of rubber for tho past few months the money derjved from tho sales of this old material had been much greater in amount Time was, not many years ago, when old rubbers were disposed of as refuse, but the Increased uses for rub ber for so many purposes, and its sub sequent scarcity, have aroused the dealers in footwear to the importance of saving all the old rubbers and rub ber heels that comes Into their hands. Tho very poorest quality of rubber that comes Into the market Is selling now for more than 50 cents a pound, tho highest price paid being $1.10, Second-hand dealers go about the city picking up discarded rubbers of every depTlptlon, for which they pay the housewife 4 or 5 cents a pound, and then turn It over at a profit of several hundred percent. Old rubber boots and shoes are quoted in the local mart ket at $7 per 100 pounds; bicycle (Ires, $4.25; solid rubber wagon and car riage tires. $7; white trimmed rub ber, $9; garden hose, 1.25; and Inner bicycle tires, free from cloth or metal, 15. The mantifactur of automobile nnd bicycle tires of rubber makes an Im mense demand upon tho rubber sup ply, which, taken together with the thousands of other articles that are being made now which were not thought of a few years ago, has forced tho market price up to Its present lev el. The sale of rubber footwear dur ing the post winter was something phenomenal, and advanced prices were obtained, while even higher prices are scheduled to come. Coun tries whore rubbes, footwear was not known five years aiKj are now calling for these goods in laYge quantities. The mere Item of rubber heels alone has grown to enormous proportions. In Oriental countries rubber soles aro replacing paper soles for shoes. " One of the most recent queer di el opmonts in connection with the. rubber Industry' Is the "rubber social." that Is being conducted In the1 rural com munities by religious denominations. The women of the church request the members of the congregation to send to (he church all the old rubbers they have on hand. At some of these so cials many hundred pounds of cast-off rubber boots and shoes sre donated and often the shoe dealer In the vil lage donates his accumulation of old rubbers to the church New York Times. A Timely Warning. Whtlo a British brig was gilding smoothly along before a good breeze in the south Pacific, three months ago, a flock of small birds about the size, shape and color of paroquets settled down in tho rigging and pass ed an hour or more resting. The Becond mate was so anxious to find out the species to which the visiting strangers belonged that he tried to entrap a specimen but the birds were too shy to , be thrs caught, and too spry to be. seized by the quick bands of the sailors. At the end of about an hour the birds took the brig's course, and disappeared, but towards nightfall they came back and passed the night in the maintop. Tbe next morning the birds flew off again, and when they returned at noon the sail ors scatef-ed some food about the decks. By this time the birds had become so tame that they hopped about the decks picking up the crumbs. That afternoon an astonish ing thing hapened. The flock came flying swiftly toward the brig. Ev ery bird seemed to be .piping as If pursued by some little Invisible en emy on wings, and they at once hud dlad down behind the dff k-houso. The superstitious sailors at once call ed the captain of the brig, who rub bed his eyes and looked at the baro meter. A glance showed that some thing was wrong with the elements, and the brig was put in shape to out ride a storm. The storm came about twenty minutes after the birds had reached the vessel For a few min utes the sky was like the waterless bottom, of a lake a vast arch, of yel lowish mud and torrents of rain tell. Why It did not blow very hard, no one knows; but on reaching port, two days later, the -captain learned that a great tornado had swept across that part of the sea. The birds left tbe vessel on the morning after the storm and were not 'seen again. Maryland Bulletin. The Power of Imagination. A fellow named Ott, confined In the Leonawee jail, asked permission to step Into the office to telephone to his people In Norvell, but skipped like a deer in the open season when the sheriff's back was turned. . The of ficer was after him In moment, call ing on him to stop tor be shot Ott looked behind and seeing the gleam ing muzzle pointed at him, sur rendered. He did not know that the big brass key V the sheriff pointed at him was not a revol ver. In an early day tw Quak ers of Raisin Valley wert v wending their way from an evening church service when they were accosted by highwaymen with the usual "stand and deliver!" By the fitful light of the old perforated tin lantern the spokesman beheld the gleam of a pis tol of huge bore, and a Quaker voice commanded: "Friend, stand aside, or In the name of the Lord I will give thee the contents of this." The rut flans took to the brush. The Quaker's weapon was an-'old brass candle stick, Detroit tribune. In pulling down the old cathedral o Met: a strong box has been found con taining coins and watches valued at tcoo.ooo. 'x ' f A SERMON FOR SUNDAY ' , AN ELOQUENT DISCOURSE ENTITLED. "UNFINISHED THINGS." . Ihe Rev, A, II, C. Mora Bum Inter, eating Address Upoa (he First ana I .mat Words In Ihe Hcrlptaiea B Wot Impatient, God Baa a Flan. Buooklyk, N. Y.-In the Strong Place Baptist Church Sunday morning the pas tor, the Kev, A, H. C. Morse, preached a strong sermon on! "Unfinished Things." He said: ..JJ - My sermon this, morning is based upon the first and t lie feist words in the Scrip ture: "In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth, "Even so, come. Lord Jesus." And between these teiti there is an immeasurable distance. The first deals with the beginning of things The last clones the Bible with a note ol incompleteness. The first takes us back to the moment when the shining worlds were hurled from the battlements of heav en by the hand of the Creator. The sec ond points forward to some "far off divine event to which the whole creation moves." It would solve many troubles in out thinking if we remembered that ire live in a world of unfinished things. This earth is not a finished product. It is rather the sum of all the forces with which it was stored in the beginning. It is what some one has called an expectant creation. It stands with shaded eyes looking toward the future. Hidden behind all its move ment there is a divinely appointed end. Men may correct all their false ideas ol evolution in the light of this single truth, lint in the beginning they must posit God. Life is an unfinished product. Whoever saw a finished life? In a great workshop we must look for noise ana dust and tu mult and confusion. We also look for the finished product, hut it is not there. As soon as a product is finished it is removed. Its place is not there in all that dust and dirt. This world is God's great workshop. Are we startled at the noise and confu sion? Human beings are in process of be ing formed and perfected. But the end is not yet. "It doth not yet appear what we shali lie." No one is perfect to-day. And what we call the best is made np of un finished and incomplete products. If this world has ever Been the perfect, it is only that it would be removed. Lifo is a great school. What man if, or does, after grad uation has not been told us yet with any detail. We ate appalled at the evidences of so cial wreckage. They tell us there is noth ing good in all the world, that the whole earth is a vast madhouse, her inhabitants are drunk with delirium, the fields arc be coming bankrupt, and the harvests are well nigh e haunted. They tell us that tha strong trample the weak to death in their cruel greed and hunger. Now this seems to me like a false interpretation. The world is tilled with madness. It does reek in cruelty and greed. But still I am taught that this world is God's, and that it is working for a divinely appointed end. It manifests along its course one great in tention. Who, then, are the -pessimists? They are the disappointed whom fortune seems to have shaken from her skirts. Here is a man you used to know. Then he was bright and keen and vivacious and enei-eie.-In. those days his eyes were bright with the glesm otter-off fireBut now we meet him and the HiilitTinsTnchd from his eye, and the spring has departetf"flom his step, and he has joined the great arnv)Mf the disappointed. He had set his heahJ uon obtaining something which the pass ing years have said he could never have. And his life has failed and his possessions have taken , flight. Now what does this mean? It simply means that he has been displaced by the very progress of tha world. When an army is marching for ward and it quickens its pace, tbe weaker soldiers must fall by the wayside. But the army has gone to valiant duty. And the very fact that the world is sweeping on ward means tiiat some must be dropping every year. They are flung backward be cause the race is hurrying forward. This world is an incomplete world b cause it is divine. It' life, as we know it, were complete, if. this were the end, then we should have to-day the ultimate stand ard of success. Our judgment of ourselves and of others would be final. But is that so? Who of us dare judge another? Do we not rather look at this life as part of a whole, whose greater part lies beyond the vision? There isn't room in the longest human career to develop all we hope and love and long for. And so we say that the most encouraging thing about this life is that it is not yet complete. The basis of hope is the possibility of growth not in the perfection of attainment now or in the immediate future. Shall I be misunderstood if I point out that the earthly life ot the Saviour par took of this same incompleteness? His ac tions, His parables, Hia whole teaching constitute a promise of the future. His life led to His death, Hia death to His res urrection, His resurrection to His ascen sion, His ascension to His throne of glory, and that again leads tn His second coming. "Even so. Come, Lord Jesus." It is as though the lines of life projected far be- J'ond our farthest ken, and could be fol owed only by an infinite hope, Why was not Jesus one of the disappointed? If ever a man had a right to be a pessimist it was He. He found that the world did not want Him, the rulers of the stats had no place for Him, the chuich of Judea that God had been training for 1500 yean to look for Him did not know Him. Why waa He not in despair? Because He had in Himself the wells of joy. Not the joy of indifference, not the joy of Him who sees and does not care. But the joy ol Him who sees all, and through all to the living God. Just as in one of Corot's pic tures you Nit see in the foreground the gnarled and blackened trunks, and be yond all and behind all the clear shining of the sky. The gospel with its mission still unac complished is another instance of that thought before us. In the world, in the church and in the soul of the believer the gospel sees not vet ajl things put under it. Ana that for the simple reason that this is a world of unfinished things. And even this may come, to us with inspiration, for unlike the dwellers in the Orient ws live in the midst of unfulfilled prophesies. Nor shall they ever be fulHcled here. Other conditions and other circumstances are needed. From this incompleteness one might gather the largest argument for our immortality. This world is in accordance with a divine purpose, and cannot be ex- f lained unless it tells ot a fulfillment in he ages, yet to come, when this earth shall have been rer laced by a new earth where in dwelleth rightrouaneaev Then He Him self shall be satisfied. Tbe old philosophers used to represent II things in a state of continual llow. They stood by the river whose dark wat ers, fed from some hidden source, stole past in voiceless mystery. They saw the same mysterious flow in the seasons, in tha harvests, in human life itself. And they posited motion as the substantia in the world of things. Now the world is in a state of flow because it it a state of in completeness, and that again bees use it is expectant. There is something yet before us. God haa not made mmi woo can long and love and hope and struggle ind deny themselves, only that they may fall into s hole in the grass. , - For what, then, does this whole creation wait? Paul tells us in one place that it it for the revealing of tha aona of God. Ian't that worth tha time that ia post? Isn't it worth all the struggle and suffering and tears of our fathers! Ian't it worth all the pain with which joy and sorrow have pol ished us into shapeliness? . , And who again art these tons of God! "As many as are led by the spirit of God, they are the sons of God." It is for these that creation waits, and without them the universal process halts. This world began with the fiat of God, and the mechanical forces with which the stars were Anns; in their orbits. Hut in the process of time God said. Let us make man, and it waa at that point the purposes of the universe I ecnme persona! and human and spiritual, And now. Oh, route-hires wonderl the next step cannot be taken without the help of rr-nn. "We are laborers together with Him. Not even God Himself ean de velop the possibilities He has hound up in unless we give Dim leave. His final end is reached not by law, but by His sons. H'lir, then, are we to swing things on from tliis first to flu last? l-rom creation to t he coming, a:! th--ii nirim onward to the iriorv that snail yet be revealed? Onl) hv finding the wav of God, and being ca'ight up in the mighty sweep of His own purposes. Here is a vessel longing for her port, and tbe wind is blowing favorably above. But she does not move, she cannot novo till men shall run up the sails and they shall catch tbe wind. And theb the ship that has lain like a lifeless thing' be comes n thing of life and hurries on ber wav. And so it seems that- the time ia come when the crises of history are hinged upon the work of man. The gospel, for instance, has been committed to the hands ot men. And, as I understand it the sec ond text, cannot be fulfilled till this goxpel of the kingdom is preached in all the earth. I dwell upon the subject of unfinished things, because it gives to us an interpre tation that enhances the value of life. One thinks of his own life in comparison with the circling orbs, and says it is an unim portant thing. It is not useful, it influ ences no one. Why keep up this awful struggle with heat and co.d, and pain and privation? Why strive to do better? Why not go with the tide that sweeps away to the dark? The real danger is not that we shall think too much of ourselves, but that we sha'l count our lives as worthless thingp. We rannot afford to lose sight of the p'neo we hold in the purposes of God. A rnu"'s life taken by itse.f is an insignifi cant thing. But when we think of it an a pa' t of a great whole it becomes of infinite .vnliK-. It is as vast as all the schemes of which it is the part. This is an instance where the par.t is as large as the whole. Ii his collcjc sermons Dr. l'eahody uses a beautiful illustration of this very thought. He refers to the two hundred and fiftieth anniversary of the founding of Harvard College. Tho students marched in torchlight piocessionB with transparen cies and banners. The freshman class, then only one month old, had this for their motto: "The university has waited 2ju years for us." And that he says' was a Krofouhd truth. All the institutional life ad been slowly evolving for these light hearted bovs, and on their conduct now rested the (Winy of the future. I wonder if it is possible that this very world has been waiting for tia. And if there are some things yet. unfulfilled that are wait ing for the wav we use these days. If so that makes life vastly insignificant. Of course, it does not mean that we shall lie notable, or great, or prominent. Not tliat other generations shall know our names. But that our little lives arc of eternal meaning. Jlr. F. B. Meyer has said some beautiful things. 1 rcmemlier hearing him say one time that we are God's "poem" (God's workn-ansliipl. And you know that a pocn is s. :nctliin very different from all prose. It contains a thought that could not be put in prose. To paraphrase it is to djll its beauty. It flashes the idea only in that form, just as a diamond gives that ?;leam only from that side, f-'o we arc iod'a poem! And a poem contains a thought. And to express that thought has meant to the writer a great effort. And every syllable is of value. And so with God s poem. He is working upon us that in the ages to come He might show forth the exceeding riches of His grace. Can any life be insignificant? Give no place, then, to impatience. God made this world in the beginning, and to this present He has sustained it hy a well formed plan. The present tinds us here. What place shall we take in this world of unfinished thinRs? For myself I take, a place of jov, and effort, and hoie. I reach out l-ime hands of faith for the way of God, and lift up a voice that is half u prayer and half a shout, "Even so, come, Lord Jesus." -- Snecess For All. Trite succsps is within the reach of all men. It is toVlow and to do God's will, to leurn and to follow n Hia way. It is to put our hand cheerfullyHe the lien or tho plow, whichever God s nTXW dencc siyi Sesta. In the reckonings of eternity to ave been 'a good mason will count for more than to liave been a bad monarch; to have walked worthy of the vocation of servant will be accounted better than to hare been a selfish sovereign. Lives that upon earth were despised, but which were well lived, and labor that was counted me nial, but which was well performed, will bear the stamp of divine approval for eter nity. Success will be defined in the lexi con of heaven as it seldom is in any lexi con of earth. Ab for the dollar mark, it will not be used in the world of bliss. "Stretch Forth Thy Hand." "Stretch forth thy hand." You with that weak hand shortened by the hard cir cumstances of your life, stretch it forth! You with that hand drawn up by iove of self; and you with fingers warped hy thoughtless, unkind words and deed, stretch them forth. With honest purpose, with unfaltering will, whatever may be its weakness or its need, "Stretch forth thy hand." And the Christ will look upon it. He will pity its weakness and deformity and lo! as you stretch it forth it will be come whole restored, that you may bless with kindly deed many a needy one who waits and waits perhaps for you. M. M. Slatterly. Earnestness. Take life earnestly. Take it as an car nest, Vital, essential matter. Take it as though you personally were born to the task of performing a noble task in it--as thougrh the world had waited for your coming. Take it as though it was a grand opportunity to achieve, to carry forward great and good schemes, to help and cheer a suffering, wear-, it may be, a heart bro ken a ster. The fact is, life is undervalued by a great majority of women. It is not made half as much of as should be the case. Now and then a woman stands aside frotr th" :vjwd, labors earnestly, stead fastly, confidently and straightway be comes famous. Watcn Out. Be ot the lookout for mercies. The more we loik for them, the more of them will we see Blessings brighten when we count them. Out of the determination of the heart the eyes sec. If you want to bo gloomy, there's gloom enough to keep you glum; it you want to be glad, there's gleam enough to keep you glad. Say, "Bless the Lord, () my soul, and forget not all Hia benehti." Better lose count in enumerat ing 'your blessings than lose your blessinga in telling over your troubles. "Be thank ful unto Him, and bless His name," Malt bie D. Jlabcock, P- D. .1., , Ubedlenea and Faltfc. It is well to have a map or description of the way, but it is better to have the Iu ing companionship bf one who knows the way by personal experience. And thiu Christ is to every disciple a loving and ex perented leader, trusting in wpom we neither sorrow unduly oyer tbe past, nor atrtT!r apprehension over that which is be iai us. Obedience for to-day; faith for to-morrow and let the Guide supply that knowledge which w lack I The form of sows of the old Roman Itove that have been unearthed sug gests that, as today, fuel In southern Italy was scarce. They were design ed to tvrve several different purposes at one time. For instance, one re sembled a miniature castle. It was square, with a small tower at each corner. The top was toothed Mm the battlements of an old fortress.' Tho whole served as a braxler to heat the apartments for roasting meat and for heating water. An Iron pan In the center contained the glowing char coal. This was scrrounded on all sides by a hollow chamber for water, with a capacity ot about six gallons, which was tilled by raising a hinged lid on the top ot any one ot the tow ers. The water waa drawn off by means of a tap, which resembled the modern appliances employed for the same purpose. The spits for roasting the meat Were placed across from tower to tower. At the front and back were pal-" of handles for transporting the apparatus from one place to an other. The houses of the ancient Ko Bians were Innofvnl of chimneys. MABEL'S SECRET. When Mallei smiles she shows tho worli Two rows of teetli so ilHxlIng white They almost rival Alpine snows: Indeed, no words Hint I tuny write . Will half portray the lovely sight. : They m. the envy of Iho girls, Tbe charm wlilolt most attracts the , men. Who almost fight to rencli lier side: There's nlwiivs one, mill sonietinius ten, , Waiting for lit-r to funk- iigiini. And though tho piiu.-c lo Mubol jjoos, And nil tho luliiiliiitioii, yet I. who am Inn- ilcnii-t. Iliiil One satisfiu'tlon which 1 get , , I know I made n lovely sett Kenneth F. Lm-knoiid, iu the Now York licrnlil. JUST FOR i FUN "Ho married money, didn't he?" "No; he thought he- was. marrying money, but ho mere'y. married some thing else that talks." Philadelphia v Press. The Teacher Can any of you tell .. me for what purpose tho Panama1 canal Is to bo used? Littlo Goorgle Grafton Sure! Campaign purposes! , Town Topics. Round Sergeant What! Asleep again? Can It be that this is from force of habit? Wuklng Patrolman N-nno. sir. Jest a habit o' tb' force. Baltimore American. "The lant time I saw him ho had just graduated from college and was waiting for a Rood position." "All that's changed. He's looking for a plain job now." Philadelphia Ledger. Mrs. nrown What do you think of your neighbor Willie's boy Willie? Mrs. White You will have to ask my husband. No lady, you know, can be expected to use such lan-' guage. Harry Wonder what makes old . Tippler hold his head so high of late? Dick Why, don't you knowT. He Is a salesman In an oil store, and : he smells so strong of kerosenrrpeo pie think he is an automobilist. Visitor So your poor husband has pasBed away, Mrs. JVItirphy. He died happy, I hope? Mrs. Murphy Ol think so, mum. The last thing ho did was to crack me over the head with a medicine bottle. Chicago Journal. Mrs. Tittle Isn't It awful the way Mrs. Wild goes on with Mr. Way ward? Mrs. Tuttlt Yes; I've often ' thought what a blessing they are to the village. It would be Intolerably du'l without them, don't you think? Boston Transcript. "I've come to tell you, sir, that the photographs you took of us tho other, liny sill nsaHMrHl.satlsfactory. Why. my husbanrr "looks like an nrlS"!" " "Well, madam, you should "have thought of that before you had him taken." The Woman's Journal. Burns How did you llko tbe entoiv tainment in the vestry last night? ; Grimes Didn't see much of it. A fel low came on the stage and aaid, "My name is Norval." So I left; I can't . abide a liar. They say his name Is Dennis. I know it isn't Norval." - Mrs. Jones And I suppose your husband Is very much In love with you? Mrs. Bowser Yes, I suppose so; he tells me so sometimes. But there's ono thing I will say for Hen ry: he's the politest man you ever heard of. The night we thought there were burglars in the house and we were going down stairs to invest; gate, Henry stepped aside tolet me precede him, saying, "Ladies first, Clara." Most men, you know, would have forgotten their gallantry at such a time. . Gold Mines of Korea. Korea Is to a certain extent a gold producing country; gold Is exported from that empire to the amount of about 12,500,000 annually. This gold occurs in alluvial deposits and In veins in tbe rocks. The alluvial deposits are worked to advantage by the na tives, tbe methods, although rathar primitive, are perhaps the best when one considers the cheapness Ot labor. Thejmechanlcal difficulties pf getting t tbe gold from veins are rathor too much for tho Korean. The ore-grind1" ing machinery consists of two stones, the motive power a squatting native; vety naturally the product Is . not large. Tho introduction ot ' modern machinery has been hindered by two causes the nature of the government and the price ot coal. All the coal used must be obtained from Japan, al though there Is evidence that Korea contains coal beds sufficient for her needs If permission could be obtained to work them. Collier's Weekly. , - Why Boys Writs Vertically. Words were first written vertically or columnwise and children are still taught. to write as the Greeks, Hit tttes and Egyptians wrote from 3000 to 16,000 years ago. Test a boy, and he will be found to Incline tbe column to the left The deviation was regu larized, and writing became horizon tal. When the scribe got to the end of the line. Instead of turning back to the right he began In the space be low at the side where he left ott. It Is almost the plowman's Way and, the Greeks named It "ox-turnlng-wlse." Natural, simple and easy as the plow mode seems, It wss abandoned In fa- vor c-t a variant on Itself. One limb" ot th furrow was kept. ' From right to left was stereotyped as tha conven tional direction In the Orient, which never advanced beyond It; from left to right Is the way of the more busi nesslike Occident ;, , . - , A Mexican Cattle King. Don Luis Terra gas, governor of CM httabnj. Is tho cattle king of Mexl His gtazlng grounds cover millions of acres, his cattle number nearly l,i" v 000, aud his sheep about half as imn . In a umall way ho Is also a fain. . Ills Irrigated land ! takes in - ai" 100,000 acres, , and his '"roscrvoh i would be a fortune to a water ci pany. In othor directions he Is banlier and manufacturer and i gether In Mexican dollars lie 1;; puted to be a millionaire 2 0 t over.