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PRESS, VOLUME XIX. FRANKLIN. N,-C. WEDNESDAY. NOVEMBEB 16, 1904. "BREATHLE8S .Breathless we strive, contending for ' SUOCeSt, . According to the standards nf our day. What is success. It It to find way Wealth out of all proportion to possess? Is It to car for simple pleasures loss , (While grasping at a mora extended sway), . And taonflolng to our gods of olay, Submerge the soul, at last, in world 11 : new? . Tt4ttMttM I tttlMMl.tMt ROBERT tM(ntttWWtnMHIHWmHMMHtO Thirty yean ago Ralph Hammond waa a famous "operator" in money, bonds, and other securities that were perhaps quite as legitimate collater als. . A cold, hard man, whose blood might have been ice-water, and whose heart was only a machine to keep his brain In working order. For Ralph waa one of those workers who ate his bread in the sweat of other men's brows, and rather prided himself upon . . the fact.. " - He had married a slmplo, illiterate woman, for her money, and is she quietly 'slipped out of life after living birth to a son and a daughter; leav ing all her propertly to her husband, he was not disposed to consider his marriage as an unwise speculation, How the children grew up I sup pose their good angels knew. Hn gave them food and clothing and shelter, and sent them to school. But every year he became conscious that they were growing to an age when it would be Impossible to Ignore their exist ence. And this fact struck him not unpleasantly one fine summer evening when they returned together for the long vacation. Robert, the eldest, bad become n really handsome fellow, and the fath er acknowledged this the more read ily because In appearance he "Stood beside him like his own youth." But here the resemblance ceased. Mor ally and mentally no two men could be more unlike. Lucy Hammond was a brighter, fairer, copy of her mother; a pretty, ' gentle girl, "Not too bright nor good For human nature's daily food." So Ralph, coming one night to tho dull, silent house which is called "home," found there was a new ele ' ment which he scarcely knew how to manage. For (hough he hardly ac knowledged any love for his children, he was very sensitive as to whatever touched his own pride and comfort; and It gave him a new sensation of pleasure to consider this fine, manly youth as his son, and the' bright, pretty, girl as a bond to his wishes and commands. However, he did nothing on impulse. He thought over all the circumstances which might, could or would affect his own "welfare, find then resolved to take-Robert Into his office and make ; Lucy the manager of a home which he re.furnlshed with ostentatious but grudging extravagance. At first Robert's share in the busi ness was confined to Its most legiti mate aspects, and, being apt and clev er, he won his way very rapidly into his father's favor. But as be became more familiar with the business and found Friendship, Honor , and integ- - rity only so much stock In trade, bit ter disputes occurred between them. Not for this, however, had the elder Hammond any idea of dissolving the business relationship he had formed with his son. Unwittingly to Robert, bis open countenance and free, gentle manly manners, were useful in allur nlg that confidence which bis own , crafty countenance would never have gained. In the second year of their alliance, however, these disputes grew every day more determined In character, and . Robert finally summed up all his faults by a romantic and improvident marriage with a girl whom old Ralph declared In a passion of anger, "was not worth a penny." For youth, beau ty, virtue and love were not market able assets to a man who knew no . standard but "cash." The result of this marriage was a . total estrangement between father and son, and thf erasure of the son's name from Old business. I do not believe the last result troubled Robert much, for he had always spoken In contemp tuous terms of the principles on which It waa conducted. Beside that he bad made the girl he loved hi wife, and he had one thousand dollar In hard cash, and unlimited funds In the ,.. bank of Faith and Hope. The latter, however, he found always below par : in the market, and ere long he was pushed very close to the wall Indeed. The Hope told htm many a promls : ing tale, and urged him westward with ' persuasions which were well second ed by hi necessities. Only one thing kept him in New York the face of r hi pretty, gentle sister; but she, with unselfishness of true affection forgot her own loneliness in hi welfare, and urged his departure. 1 . r -- Before leaving, he sought his fath er's presence to win from him omo ; kind word or promise of forgiveness; but the old man was very bitter In his - anger and disappointment ' . "I have no time, sir," he replied i to Robert s petition for forgiveness and-goodwill. "I have no time for such fooleries. If you are sorry, come t back to your desk again. If foil can't do that, 1 must understand ray 'good will' to mean a share of my f?w thous and dollar when I die." s "Father, I cannot do business In the way you propose. I should lose my self-respect, and I cannot tell myself, sir, If your thousand were millions." "Nobody want to buy you, sir, I believe, at any price. I am torry I have no more time at your disposal." Bo saying, he dropped hi eyes upon an interest table, and Robert after watching him a few moments, went out with a swelling heart and a- veil ; of tears over his eyes.' Westward the young couplt. started next day, their whole possessions In one not very large trunk. Jub, for bnlf an hour, they stopped on their way to the depot, to kiss the sad ljttle face of Lucy, and arrangi for somo method of eommuntratlon with her. Robert Hammond pushed forward ir ' he reached a little rity of shan WE STRIVE.". By Grnsmere staads cottage small and poor; The Dove was onoe Its emblem, and the sign That marked it as a wayside Inn ob scure; But, frugal, dwelt high consecration here. And gratitude still guards 'it as a shrine, Uullowed by that success which time but makes more dear 1 Florenoe Earle Coates, in The Century. HAMMOND. ties standing on the' low, swamp shores of Lake Michigan the embryo of the future Chicago. There he rest ed, not so much from choice as from necessity, his funds gradually disap pear ng, and his wife sick with a How fever. -v.-v . ; Very hard Indeed was the first two yean to the adventurer. Poverty, suf fering, and a pitiful sense of the In concnlous elements among which they had fallen, had made up their ' life. 3ut natures like Robert Hammond's, iboish they may be stunned for a time, have In them such an element of life and strength that complete pros nation Is Impossible, From the first blank despair hope iroH with a strength and intensity ex actly suited to the circumstances. Work, manual work, was first obtain ed, and its results carefully used. In two more years he had saved capital sufficient In those days of small pre tensions to buy a few thousand feet of lumber. I don't know quite how such things happen I suppose they are a natural sequence of events but grad ually, almost imperceptibly, the thou sand became tens of thousands of feet, and the Bmall lumber yard gradually extended itself along the low, sluggish Illinois river; while a small fleet of lake schooners waited on the yard, and their every arrival and departure left a balance on the right side of Rob ert Hammond's books. For the first seven years a desultory correspondence was kept up with Lucy,' but the last news had all been unfavorable. Lucy spoke of losses and reverses, and intimated that she was afraid they would have to relin quish their old home. Nor were these all her troubles; It was evident she suffered much from her father's growing irritability and unreasonableness, and that this was especially so at any mention of Rob ert or bis whereabouts. The unpleasantness of the news from New York was In such direct contrast with the surroundings of his home, that Robert might well be ex cused from not seeking more of It Be. side, his business was constantly In creasing, and required all his thoughts during those hours In which men may work; so that when he reached his home the affectionate care of his pret ty wife and the encircling arms of Irrepressible children very exclusive ly claimed his first atteutlon. It was about twelve years after Rob ert Hammond and his wife had turned their backs on New York. They were ailtlng together one evening In that quiet hour which supplements the one given to children," and precedes those given to rest The fire burned brightly, and the lamps from under rose-colored shades threw soft, warm tints on the beauty and comforts of a thoroughly hand some room. Sitting Jn her low chair with closed eyes, and idle hands fold ad over the dropped sewing, Mrs! Hammond was holding pleasant com munion with her own thoughts. The face had yet the tender look left on it by the children's kisses, and though her Hps moved not, I am sure any one would have said she was praying. Perhaps, she was. God knows that if any human souls ought to pray. It Is those women who share with angels the charge of Immortal souls. Just far enough away to make a low murmur, the children were' saying their prayers, and outside the luxuri ant home the snow fell silently and the dim shlubs shivered .against the window panes. It was near Christmas, too, and Christmas influences were In the air and In the heart. A sudden and great tenderness fell to Robert Hammond as he listed to his children's voices and looked round on his happy home and the face of his good, true wife. And he remembered his faults that night Where were Lucy and his father? . For nearly three years he had heard nothing certain, and the last wondering and uncertain intelli gence had been of a very sad and un pleasant nature. He recalled easily enough all the dark, hard points In lls father's character, bnt that gave him no satisfaction. Somehow he was sensible tonight that he had not been faultless. And Lucyf In all the years they lived together, he could not. re member a single wrong that gentle soul bad done him. - v . ; . And now perhaps both were suffer ing the pangs of poverty while he had enough -and to spare. The thought had crossed his mind before, and very often of late, in his counting-room. In bis lumber yard, among his children. But never had It affected him as now. It was as It some mighty band bad shaken him out of a lethargy and In tones of yearning and reproach calL ed to him, "Robert Hammond, where I thy father and thy sister?" : He might have answered, "I am not their keeper," but he never thought of such an excuse. ---v. -.;;''" .:- "Mary he said to his wife, In tones So solemn and earnest that she opened her eyes with a start "Mary, where do you think father and Lacy are?" "God knows, Robert and that Is one comfort but t was just thinking about them." - " ' .. ; "Were you? That Is strange." Then, after a few minutes' Intense thought he got op and walked up and down the room, pushing In hi pre occupation chairs and ottomans out of him way.,"--...'1.;' ;.w;:'.: Mrs. Hammond waited quietly, tak ing stitch after stitch, and glancing occasionally nto the troubled face of fcer husband. ' ; . . - J Presently he stopped before her and saldiO - ' " "Mary, the river Is dead-locked with Ice. I can leave my business now bet ter tlmn I jould ever have dons the 7 last ten yean. If I start at once, I can be In New York by Christmas. What do you say?" . "God go with you, Robert, dearl I think you are right." - '-V - So the next morning Robert Ham mond set hi face eastward, and In due time tried the familiar walks of New York city. But he found his father's office In a strange name, and his memory had passed from the con stantly changing financial world. The old home was empty, and falling Into that look of decayed gentility which Is so much worse than honest poverty, Then he suddenly remembered a lit tle farm not far from Patterson, which had been part of his mother's fortune; and hiring a horse and buggy, he tried to find It It was only a low stone cot tage, surrounded by cherry trees Riat were old and bare. The fields about were white and still, the little stream bound In Icy fetters, the cattle star ing pltepualy on the barren earth, and dumb In their cold hunger and com fortless life. A rude, unpainted fence divided a small garden and yard from the gen eral waste of desolation; and, walk. Ing slowly across the yard, was a fig ure which, In spite of shabby clothes and ageing years, Robert easily recog nized' as his father. The old man saw the approaching buggy, and going to the gate,, called out In querulous tones - "Younced not alight sir; we have no rooni to entertain strangers. W never do,. sir! No, Indeed!" He kept up his protestations the more fervently as he saw the stranger did not pay any attention to them, meanwhile standing inhospitably at the closed gate. Robert saw a pale, weary-looking woman' come for a moment to the door, and. then, after a vacant stare, close It again. It was all very dis couraging, but he never for one mo ment hesitated in his intentions. Leaving the' horse tied to the fence, he walked up to the closed gate, and stretching his hand across it, said: "Father." The old .man's face grew suddenly gray, and the lines about the mouth deepened Involuntarily; he dropped his eyes, but raised them quickly to say: "I am a poor man now, Robert; there is nothing to be got by seek ing me out." "I want nothing, father, but your forgiveness and love. I am a rich man now, unless-you shot your doors against me. In that case I shall feel poor enough." "Come in, then." The tone was not a gracious one, but Robert knew what it had cost the old man to humble himself so tar, and be accepted- the Invitation with a "Thank you, sir." Earnestly, . as they walked up the little path, Robert spoke to his fath er, and what he said must have had some effect, for when they reached the house-door, he opened It with nervous haste, and In much softened tones called out: "Lucy, here la your brother Rob ert!" Lucy's welcome made up for all de linquencies, and the evening which had promised so little, ended in such confidence as had never existed be fore between the father and his chil dren. They spent a few days In New York before leaving ' tor the west, and the elder Hammond, attired once more in irreproachable broadcloth, visited such of his old haunts as were will ing to know him, making no small boast of ths immense wealth of his "son Robert" and the gigantic busi ness they were going to do together In Chicago. I should do very wrong if I led my readers to Infer that Ralph Ham mond's character essentially and im mediately changed. His avarice never left htm until his dying day. But in the beautiful companionship of his son's wife and children some of the roughest and most selfish traits were gradually toned" down. He could not If he would, disbelieve In the unselfish affection, of Robert and his family, who bore patiently with all his faults, and who certainly had nothing to ex pect in return. ' And in the dark days which he spent In the Valley of the Shadow of Death, this belief In human love help ed him wonderfully to hope and trust in a love Infinite and all-embracing. Lucy, In the quiet and peace of her ,new life', regained her youth and pret ty looks,, ana is. toaay a nappy wire and mother of brave sons and' beauti ful daughters. ' in her redeemed life, and. In the comfort and Improvement of their father's' later years, Robert and Mary Hammond found cause for gratitude In that having recognised their duty, they bad sought out and gone after It; for It grew to a bless ing on earth, and Its final reward In heaven. Waverley Magazine. - A Boy and His Dog. "He was Just a little ragged news boy, and he was accompanied by a dirty looking yellow dog. A these two old cronies passed along Ninth street a . well-dressed youngster saw Ct to shy a brickbat at the cur, , Like a shot the newsboy .dashed across the street' doubled his little fists 'and op ened ' hostilities upon 'the dog's tor mentor. ' The latter, too seemed ready for a fight and within a very brief space little heads were being pummel led and little Jaws' were receiving punches galore. A crowd soon gath ered, but before a great quantity of blood bad been 1 drawn 'spectator Jumped In and tore the lads apart; "You,'1 sneered the well-dressed boy; "I wish now I'd throwed the brick at you!" With a mad but unsuccessful effort to get .back into the battle the defiant owner of the yellow canine retorted: "Makes no difference-If you t'row at me or me dog, dere'e goin' to be trouble! I'd Just's leave croak as to sea dat dog Imposed on" After much persuasion the belligerents were coaxed ;. to separate, but If they meet again, I'll wager half a .pie there'll be something doing. Pitts burg Dispatch. : ' ., V ; - ,''. Her Past "Miss Passay hasn't any bean at all, has she?" . . v "No; her past discourages suitors." "Why, there's nothing the matter with her past, is there?", "Nothing, except that It's too long." Philadelphia Led,:ir. "FLAT AS A FLOUNDER." Something of the Life History f an Interesting and Curious Fish. The expression "a fiat as a flound er" has become proverbial, but It does not apply to very young flounders, which differ so much from the adult ones that they can hardly be recog nized as belonging to the same family as their parents. Most boys and girls are familiar with full-grown flound ers, but very few of them, and few older people, know anything about the appearance of young flounders and the wonderful transformations they under go. In spring and summer it is pos sible for young nature students to se cure specimens of newly hatched flounders by dragging a fine mesh net on sunny days when the water Is smooth. Such specimens may easily be kept alive in dishes of salt water, and examined from time to time with a low-power mlscroscope. . The flounders begin life as do ordi nary fishes. When tbey first emerge from the egg they swim vertically, with the head turned upward. Their bodies are symmetrical, and their eyes are on opposite sides of the head. Gradually the position of the body changes from vertical .M "horizontal, and the fish remain thus for some time, swimming like ordinary fishes; but while still very small there is foreshadowing of the bottom life they are destined for, and they enter up on a series of remarkable changes. The most striking of these' changes Is in the position of the eye. .. The eye of one side or the other slowly but Steadily moves over to the opposite side of the head and takes a place be side the other eye. In some flounders the eye moves around the front of the head; in others !t moves directly through the head. This shifting of the eye's position is accompanied by a change in the position of the body, which ceases to be upright and be comes more r.ud more oblique. The side 'of the body from which the eye Is moving gradually becomes' Inferior to the other, until by the time the change of the eye Is complete the fish swims with its blind side underneath, and this position Is ever after main tained. The flounder then ceases Its free swimming habit and sinks to the bottom. , Some specie of flounders are right sided and others are left-sided. In the rlght-slded forms the left eye moves to the right side, and the left side becomes undermost In. the left sided b pedes the opposite conditions prevail. It rarely happens that right sided species have left-sided Individ uals, and vice versa. In a few spe cies both right-sided and left-sided fish occur in about equal numbers. From "Nature and Science" In St Nicholas. QUAINT AND CURIOUS. - When a Russian dies he Is burled with a little slip of paper In his hand on which is written his Christian name. A. J. Brooks of Shelburne Falls, picked from his garden a strawberry which measured six by six and a half Inches. No carnivorous bird or quardrupe'd in England will eat the flesh of a cat The rule applies even to the carrion crow, which will devour dead dogs greedily. Samuel S. Stafford, a prominent lawyer f Oxford, N. Y., Is dead there at the age of 07 years. His death was caused by blood poisoning, result ing from a wound received before Port Hudson on June 11, 1863. In Iceland there are no prisons, and the inhabitants are so honest in their habits that such material defences to property as locks, bolts and" bars are not required. Yet its history for the past 1000 years records no more than two thefts. The Russians are experimenting with a "water-clad" battleship, which has an upper deck of cork and a sec ond deck or armor. The space be tween the two can be filled with water, then the ship floats a foot under the sea's surface. There Is a man living In Augusta, Me.. 50 years of ago who has never eaten but twb meals outside ' of his own house. He has never ridden In the steam or electric cars and never has been more than 20 miles away from home and then he went in a wag on. The monkey lives In the forests of nine-tenth of Africa, from the moun tains of the Atlas ranges In the north to the Orange river of the south; and Is also seen In great numbers and va riety throughout India,- Burma ' and Cochin, China, the islands of the In dian archipelago and parts of south ern China and Japan. 8trange to aay, he draw the line at New Guinea and the neighboring, tropical coast of north era Australia, where he -is con spicuous for his absence, though the condition there seem to be favorable for his prosperity. . - The "Graft" In Russia. 8I years ago a secret official re port to the Ciar on the discontent In Poland gave, official extortion a the main cause and recommended that the salaries of officials should be made sufficient to Uve on ; and that they1 should then be held strictly responsi ble. . The Czar's own copy of this report was stolen for the London ; Times, and bore a not on the margin in his handwriting saying: "This Is to be done as icon as the treasury shows the necessary funds." It has been rumored of late that the war was brought on to cover pecula tions. I do not believe It. Not much of a veil Is considered necessary for such things in Russia; and It was the war with Turkey which revealed the rotten condition of officialdom to Alex ander II. and caused him to turn to his brother with the despairing re mark: "I believe that you and I are the only two men In Russia who hnvo not been, bribed." Bcldom If ever does the Russh : government try to recover 1 l,y poeiilntlon. N. T. Fawn In L' toUciv e-j'!' . A SERMON FOB SUNDAI AN ELOQUENT DISCOURSE ENTITLED, "GLORIFYING THE FATHER." PreachsU by the Rav. Dr. Thorn. B. Mo. ImmmI, of Brooklyn, K. VWs Can Make Clotl Hol, We C Make the GwalwI Sublime, . . Brooklyn, N. Y. Upon hi return ta his pulpit from lyi vacation, the Rev. Dr. Thomas B. Mcliod, pastor of the Clinton Avenue Congregational Church, preached an eloquent sermon. Sunday .rooming on "Glorifying the Father." The text waa choaen from Tohn xv:8: "Herein b My Father glorified that y bear much fruit, to shall ye be My disciples." Dr. McLeod said: How vital, dear friends, are all New Testament representations of religion! Compare the New Testament with the eth ical teaching, or religious teaching of all other book in this respect, and you are simply astonished. There ia nothing me chanical in them, nothing formal, nothing institutional every process is a process of life It is no use for a man, or for men, to claim that they have Abraham for their father. Religion is not a matter of who a man's ancestors were; it is a matter of what a man himself ia. Jesus has given us in one pithy sentence His estimate of the worth of the claim that ia based on de scent, on heredity, on social prestige, when He says that God could raise up, or make children, unto Abraham out of the very stones of the roadside. The concern that interest (Sod, when it comes to the matter of religion, is whether a man if a living plant or a dead stick. The hedge, though it be a hedge of flowers or roses, in which the stake occurs, does not make the stake a living thing. The line of descent in which a man stands, nor the social posi tion he occupies, nor the church of which he is an attendant, or a member, is noth ing. The man may after all he nothing better than a dead stake in a hedge. There waa a certain fine man, a fine man socially, religiously, politically one of the best of men as men went came to Jesus to make inquiry on the subject of religion. He was reverent and devout and respect ful and courteous and cultured and learned, a leader and teacher of the people, a lec turer on ethics, but when it came to reli gion, Jesus said to that man, "Ye must be born again." The vitality of the represen tation we find in the New Testament reli gion is its life; "I have come that ye might nave life, and that ye might have it more abundantly." And so of tests. Not simply of the rep resentations or description of religion, but also of the tests, the New Testament tests of religion. How are we to know that we are living Christians? How arc we to know that others are living Christians? Why, the New Testament pushes iw up to the point of urgent belief, and insists on it, that the test is fruit, not leaves, not flowers, but fruit, and that fruitfulness is the only essential thing that shall triumph under the test. Jesus may endure barren ness outside of the church, but He cannot endure it inside of the church. A bramb'e in the woods is bearable, but a bramble in the orchard, that is intolerable. "By their fruits ye shall know them. Men do not gather figs of thistles or gropes of thorns." The man of (lod is perfect, fruitful unto all good works." How little stress Jesus lays upon those tests that are to universally adopted and applied, and admitted to be trntiu-ientty ad equate; attendance upon religious ordin ances, subscription to creed and statement, routine observance of ritesand ceremonies; He makes nothing of all that, and He comes to us, friends, just as He came to the fruitless, leafv fig tree bv the wayside, searching for fruit, not for leaves, not for blossoms, not for florescence, not for es thetic delight in sacred music, not for fond ness of the literary side of religion, not for a keen appetite for we'.l digested and pre sented truth, but for fruit fruit, and He comes np closer to us, friends, than any body else can come than our dearest and nearest can come for, after all, these can see only outside anpearanees. He sees real ities. They see thing that pass far aood works in us, born, it may lie, of wicked ambition or of self-concait. He sees right down into the centre of the soul, and He ia looking for fruit. What shall lie lihd in you and me? . Fruit or leaves, or just bare branches? The test ia fruitfulness. Now that ought to be an easy test to apply, and it surely, friends, ia a safe test to apply for you and me to apply to our own selves. But then, some one may say, "Well, what constitutes fruitfulness? I am ready now to lay hare my soul before God : I am ready now to go down on my face before Clod and apply the test; I am ready now for heart-searching, and to measure myself by this standard, but I want to know what constitutes fruitfulness." "What are the fruits that Jesus expects and that I am to look for and by which I am to measure myself?" Why, the Bible is simply full of that. It has set the whole thing so plain, and so fully, and so variously that a wayfaring man though a fool need not mistake as to what fruitfulneas in the Christian life is. Jesus saya, "Blessed are the poor in spirit." Come now, w are examining ourselves about the fruits, "Blessed are the poor, in spirit; blessed are the meek; blessed are the merciful (the good hearted); blessed are the pure in heart; blessed are the peacemakers; blessed are they who have not simply a relish now and then, but a hunger and a thirst after righteousness- Tightness. - These are the fruits that the Christian man ia expected to grow in his character. An apostle says, the fruits, or the fruit of the spirit, ia love, joy, long suffering, patience, meekness, faith, temperance. The fruit that the Christian ia to develop, that will be developed, that Jesus will expect if there be life love the heart of all good nesslove to God and love to man. 'Vho loveth not hi brother whom he hath seen, how shall he love, God how can he love God whom he hath not seen?" Fruit; love joy. Joy in fellowship with God; joy in. fellowship with believers; joy in service and ministry. Love joy peace. Content ment of mind under all circumstances; the harmony of conviction, of thought and af fection. Long suffering patient endur ance not only in affliction, but patient en durance of wrong and provocation; and meekness and temperance and all the rest. What does fruitfulness mean? It means limply the development or achievement of character that will approve itself to God. But this growth of character does not ex haust the expectation of Christ concerning u. It does not exhaust the fruit which the Christian has to bear, There is other fruit. You read that pannage again and yon will see that the tenor of it has to do with fellowship fellowship with Jesus, fellow ship in His purpose to redeem this world from sin. Jesus is not thinking altogether of the good His disciples are to get through fellowship with Him, hut He ia thinking also of the good which Hit disciples are to do through fellowship with Him. Not alto- Esther of what His disciples are to receive, ut of what His disciples are to achieve. "Except the branch abide in the vine It brinretn forth no fruit. If ye abide in Me and My words abide in you, y shall bring forth much fruit." i s j,.., Oh, friends, we limit the range of the Christian life, and our hearts and minds are so set upon getting, fitting, getting enjoying,, enjoying, enjoying that we are deaf to the words of Christ concerning do ing, doing, doing. Apart from the vine the branch can bear no fruit; apart from the branch the vine cannot bear fruit. And here, friends, we come up to something that ought to bring you and me very lowly before God. Lowly, not so much with the sense of mortification and penitence, but with a kind of exultant joy. It befits us to confess always our dependence upon Christ, but here we have Christ confessing His de pendence on us. Marvelous thing! "The branch cannot bear of itself except it abide in the vine." and the vine cannot bear fruit without the branches. The Apostle l'aul puts that thought in another form when tie says: "Ye are the body of Christ, and members each severaf'y meniliera of that body." Apart from the body the members perish. There is no power in the hand, lio viion in the eye, no power in the er to hear the voice of God apart from the body. We are the body of Christi we are the organization through which diri.-'t work: we are tlie organization bv whiih Christ hmlflw no 11m kmyilrun on thf, earth. V Hre (1m- Intuits oi ( Hnt. i'Mric want, tint l,'iri' to feci the hungry, ei"l !;,.' ii. ' -I, m,. vi-it the sick, ni.'l i ; i r 1 e h .'! fn- r- d it; No manna falls from heaven to feed those poor men, They starve. God l wondrously pitiful, and there are strong people who are perfectly able to help and comfort weak and tick'v people, but these sickly people die for lack of help. No min istering angel conies down to cool their fe ver and heal them. Don't vou see that we, God's hand, God's voice, the branches and twigs of the vine, limit the fruitfulness of the vine, limit the power of the Almighty? "Herein ia My Father glorified, that ye bear much fruit, so shall ye be My disci ples." Friends, the thought ia appalling; it oppresses me. ' When I look at that from one aide I am terrified to think that the thing that God wanted done yesterday is not done through my neglect. And yet there is encouragement here for us all. Apart from the vine the branch withers; it can do nothing. Abiding in the prison doors for thoi-e in captivity, hut supposing the hand of the Lord lie par alyzed, how can He do these things? We are the voiceof Christ. Christ wants to publish abroad to the end of the earth the message of God' love and the way of sal vation, but if the voice be silent, how can He doit? cV:.. o. We talk about the mercy of God having no limitation. We talk about the bound less pity of God. and we do well, but the pity of God and the mercy of God have their limitations. Not according to the dis torted Calvinism which our fathra believ ed, God's mercy is infinite: God's Yity it boundless; Ilia love extends to all men that we believe: in that iUc!aratioi we glory; we count it thevery flower and cor onation of our religion. And yet God's mercy is limited, His compassion is bound ed, His pity is shortened by us by us. Ac cording as we are willing or unwilling is the limitlesMiess of the love nf God. Let us take a homely illustration. Here is a friend man whomryou have always known, a classmate it may be in school, an associate in business and he has fallen upon evil times ahd everything that Jie apent his life in accumulating is gone. You are rich, you are perfectly able to put that man on his feet again: to give him a sec ond chance and another start; you are Ood's elected minister for that purpow. But yon don't do it. God is kindly dis posed to that man; God would heln that man, and He has put vou in position to help him. You are His hands: you i art God's ministering agency, but you limit God's goodness, don't yon? God is very pitiful, very pitiful. Rich men can feed poor men. but they don't do vine, the branch bringeth forth much fruit, and we may abide and we may elorify our Father. Glorify Him. Mnke Him shine with radiance and beauty in the cyea of man. Make God manifest. We can make God re;tl; we can make the gospel sublime in the eyes ct those who are living without it. We can so tell the story: we can so live our religion; we ran so manifest the grace of God in our lives; we ran so let our light shine that others our neighbors and friends, our children and relatives shall glorify our Father in heaven. Clod Only Is Perfect. Perfection, in every absolute sense, can not be found among men it abides only with God. Man. at his best, is not free. An heir of immortality, he is imprisoned into time. Candidate for sainthood, ho has a heritage of sin and corruption from the generations of the past. Called to do all things through God strengthening him, he finds that the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak. Countless perils menace the voyage of the perfectionist. Premnnptuous sins often have dominion over him, when he '.hinks it is not robbery to be eqiiul with God and share with the absolute t lie attributes of divinity. Spiritual pride leads him to moral ruin when h" i per suaded to forget the hour of prayer be cause of his conceit that with him every breath is a prayer. The Man of Nazareth was so far from this vanity thut He snent whole nights in communion with God on the mountains and in solitary places apart from His companions. The perfectionist, again, is deceived when he materializes the things of God. "y asserting Inr the saints below an earthly empire over disease mid death and by claiming a part in the politi cal rule of the nuick-enming Christ in a millenial reign at Jerusalem. Increasing God's Opportunities. Some one has said that "each human life fs another opportunity for God to dip'ay His grace and power." So it is, and the thought will grow upon you as you medi tate upon it. Just think, "I am God's op portunity!" Isn't it wonderful? Isn't it glorious? When we look at others whom God his richly blessed and honored in ser vice we can see how it is, but do we ever think of ourselves as God's opportunity? Every one that responds to God's call, "Come!" gives God a larger place in the world. Every one who obeys God's command, "Oo!" assists God in gaining a larger place in the henrts of men. Every regenerated heart and life is a new garden in which God plants His seeds of love and giace; a fountain out of which flow eonatant streams of healing power. Take it home, near young friend, and say to yourself, I am God's opportunity." Be that and your life will become unutter ably grand and your experience unspeak ably sweet. A. W.. Spooner, D. D. , ' 1 I,, , One Thing We Cast Po. Each one in any given place has a re sponsible share in every other's good work in that place. In some things we do our part with our bands; in other matters we do our part with our hearts. What the Apostle John said about evil deeds ia as' true of good deeds: "He that giveth him greeting pitrtnketh in his works." By our well wishing we become partakers in what others do. John said the same thing in the next Knistlo: "We ought to welcome such, that we may be fellow workers." What we speed on its way, and what we welcome in our hearts when we hear of It in all I his we have a share. How wide reaching, the.i, are the opportu nities of even the mo it secluded! How great is the work in wilich even the least can be engaged! As wo hail any good in coming, or speed any .good outgoing, we enter into the prophet s work, and shall receive a prophet's retard. Let us take l.eart and do our share. .... . " " " Ever Oawarit and Upward. We are commanded to be perfect, te love God continually, to rejoice evermore, and in everything to give thanks. And reason is in accord with revelation iu en joining this duty, Man's pathway is ever onward and upward. Larger and seeming ly infinite possibilities lot futuni achieve ment invite him to press on with unweary ing fooUtep. - ,... . - 1 ":'i ... Til os oa Trial. "Are these masterpieces?" asked a tovr 1st in a Fidrentine gallery, adding, "I must admit that I do not see much in them my self." "These pictures, sir," was fie an swer, "are not on trial; it is the visitor who are on trial." It is the critics who ate ii trial, not the Scriptures, New Yrrk Observer. . The New York Mall has finally fixed the responsibility for the baldheadeoV Bess of the men of this generation, the Watertown Times-Standard state. It is the nightcap that did: the mis chief, and while It did not make the generation that wots It baldheaded. It weakened the hair producing organu and subsequent generations have bad to pay for the same. That Is The New York Mall's explanation. It ts lust as good as any. Still the musi cian's explanation given a short time ago, that baldheadednest was caused by antagonistic vibrations of certain tunes, is rather better, because It ap pears so much mora scientific and (Ire range tor wider speculation. ft Is announced that the menacing third rail Is to be covered from one end of the subway to the other, so that no possibility can It become a source of accidents. On every rail road line, surface, e'evated or depress ed, the fqjmldabh) current ourM. to bs shut In tjjUliat ii can raue no f '';- tS , (':, V V J '( J '-.!! WOMEN IN ART CRAFTS. THEY WIN 3UCCE8 AS POTTERS AND nIETAL WORKERS. ; ' v Development of the Work of Women Along the Line of the Decorative Arts A New Pottery from a South ern College Handmsd Metal Work Well Paid. In an op-town store devoted to art crafts, In -which -everything is band made and each piece of work is cred ited to the. maker, like paintings In an art store, it 1 interesting to see how the work " of women is developing along the line of the decorative art. "It is not strange," aald the proprie tor, "when the movement started by William Morris spread to this country women were the ones who had the leisure to fuss with art crafts, and work with them at home for their own satisfaction. ' "Mrs. Montgomery Sears of Boston working away over her beaten silver for pnre love of it until she had pro duced some of the finest work in America, is sn example. Here and there women, finding that they could make salable things, have gone into the business for money, but never for money alone. They always preserve their love for the work Itself which Is what distinguishes an art craft from just a plain craft. Take pottery, for instance. Every one knows that the famous Rookwood was invented and developed by a woman. Now there is another woman, a former worker In the Rookwood potteries, who is making the only por celain In America, except the product of one New Jersey plant. "She has a little kiln out In her back yard In Cincinnati, where she produces from 10 to 20 pieces a month, and she deserves great credit for the per severance and ability with which she has developed a true porcelain. "The credit for the most distinctive contribution of the South to the art life of America must also be given to a woman. A new pottery Is now com ing up from New Orleans, from the college for young women founded and endowed by Sophie Newcomb, which Is pronounced the most distinctively In digenous ware yet produced In Amer ica. "It seems to possess no suggestion whatever of the older wares of Europe and Asia, and the distinctive flora of the south, like the cotton plant and su gar cane have been utilized as sugges tions for the decorative motives in a distinctively original manner. "The college management, desiring to develop artistic handicraft, was checked by the fact that there was no opening for employment along that llqln the south. A pottery was there ftnSsiiabllshed under the manage ment orr! art department of the col lege, and iher'3 the graduates of the course weWtm'ployed. As a result, many young womelk-artow gaining money and 'reputation in-an artistic vocation which tbey would otherwise have been unable to pursue. "You see these gray pieces of salt glaze, like the German kitchen jars and pots, decorated in indigo blue? That was made by one of the first women In America to make pottery. She began soon after the Centennial. "This odd black ware, on the con trary, Is one of the latest develop ments In a unique guild of women. This guild is made up of a set of wom en who studied art under a well known painter. "At the conclusion of their course tbey consulted together end decided that It would be better to find some more practical form of art than to con tinue to paint as an accompaniment of slow starvation. They . consulted the painter, and he told them there was plenty tbey could do if they would con sent to submit to a few requirements. The first was for each to select a ma terial, clay, wood or something else, and without any preliminary Instruc tion learn to handle it herself. Then tbey were to go through a thorough course of study from the best stand ards, after which they were to let their originality crop out as it would. "Tbey have all become art crafts men of a high order. This black pot tery, which in its glsze and finish re minds you of some of tbe Pueblo In dian pottery, ia the work of two mem bers, mother and daughter. "Do you see these two exquisite bronze belt buckles, one with a Swastika design, ornamented with red coral, and tbe other made of two Uttla Greek figures, with a bloodstone in the centre T Those , buckles, , cost $25 apiece, and there is not another like either la tbe world. Tbe maker cast them and then destroyed the die. 8he Is another member of the guild. "These beautiful boxes of hammered silver with enameled tops are by an other member. So is this silver chate laine bag. In which the maker knit the bag of silver beads, turned out the silver clasps and hammered the top of beaten silver "Such workers cater, to the women of the millionaire class, who are will ing to pay exorbitant price for things which have no double In the world." New York Sun. Appreciated. N' , There are no people so distinguish ed for courtesy as tlw people of Bos ton. A few days since a lady in that city, with her child, entered a Beacon street car and mentioned to the con ductor that she desired to get out near Arlington street No doubt as tonished at the variety of cars, and the many directions from which they came and went, seemingly without regularity, she innocently ' remarked to the conductor as be landed her; . "I'm very much obliged to you, I'm sure; 'but I'm afraid I've taken you out of your way." Philadelphia Pub lic Ledger. it Flattered Him. Naybor You seem to be deeply af fected by the accident that befell that butcher's boy. Heitpeck Yes, I like that young ster. Naybor Nice boy, was he? Henpeclt Every time he met me, even it Maria was within hearing, he he'd say: "How d'ye da bwsT" Philadelphia Press. Rioilnnd Y ' 1. I.on.1 .n, is t!i Inr ..'I w.lli-e '. "(i In t'-e sw' 1. It I. -, . . f i : i i- A-CRUSTACEAN CAROU Down beneath the rolling ocean, At the bottom of the sea, Lived a Shrimp who hud a notion That a pe. fecit sbrlinp was lie. He was bright and be was prott Clever, too. and rather wlttyt He whs jimp, llstlnctly jimp, , Was this pleusiug little Sliniup; 8o, of course, as you may see, ' He waa all a shrimp should be, He was all a shrimp should lie. As the Shrimp one day waa Hitting, Here and there and all around. He beheld a Cocklo sIMIhk On a little sandy mound, And be eaid, "O Cockle demy, You look rather sud and weury; ' I will slug to you a song. Not too short and not too long; And I'm sure you will agree It is all a song should lie, ' ' It Is all a song should be." Then the Shrimp, with smiles of plea nre. Took his ban jo on bis knee, And he played a merry measure ! Like a Carol or a Glee; . And he sang a uuton so jolly, All of frolic, fun, and folly, i All of merriment and plav, Ail of mirth and laughter gay; Mid I'm sure you'll all agree That la all a catch should lie, , ' That is all a catch should lie. Carolyn Wells, in Bt. Nicholas. JUST FOR FUN Citizen See here, why do you beg? Mendicant Why, a feller can't live by doln" nothln'." Philadelphia Bulletins Teacher What Is a synonym, Fred die? Freddie A synonym is a word to be used In place of another word you '. can't spell! Gabriel Doesn't that New Yorker find It homelike here? St. Peter No, he says be can't get used to the gold en streets not being torn up. First Meenister We must gie it up, Alfred. Second Meenister What, gle up gowff ? First Meenister Nae, nae, : mon; gle up the meenlstry. Punch. ' s First Citizen If you were by your- ' self I'd hit you. Second Citizen Well, '. sln't I by myself? First Citizen Ain't I with you? Glasgow Evening Times. "And what happened," asked tbe teacher, "after the Pilgrims had land ed?" "A good many people got to lyln',. about their ancestors." Chicago Record-Herald. Patty I always think of all the un kind things I have said during the day before I fall asleep nt night. Patricia Dear me! Do you stay awake as , long as that? Child (In berth of night steamer) Mummy, I'm so sleepy. I want to go to bed.' Mother But you are In bed, dear. Child No, I'm not. I'm in K" chest of drawers? Punch. Bride George, dear, when we reach our destination let us try to avoid glv-', Ing the impression that we are newly married. George All right, Maudj you can carry this portmuneau. Pick-Me-Up. "I want a good revolver," began the determined-looking man. "Yes, sir," " said the salesman. "Six chambers?" "Why er you'd better make it a ,. nine-chamber. I want to use It on a cat next door." "Yes, Maud has agreed to sell kiss es at the lawn fete." "I don't see how she can do it" "Oh, she's put the price : so high that the boys are trying to make up a pool In order to buy one." ; Cleveland Plain Dealer. " . t- "Do you know what happened to Lot's wife when she turned her face and looked behind?" asked the Sun-.' day school teacher. "Well, if she was gettln' off a street car, I know," said observing Tommle. Yonkers States man. "Ethelinda's suitor represents one of the best families In Europe," said . Mrs. Cumrox. "No, he doesn't," an swered her husband. "I've heard about ' that family an' It's a purty good one. He misrepresents It" Washington Star. v" "Do you think that politics offers a : career to the average young man?" "Yes," answered Senator Sorghum. "It offers a career. But like everything else in politics, the offer is liable to have a string to it. WaMrtigton Star. ;'"' ' Friend You've never been called in consultation, haves you? Young doctor No; but I'd like to be. It's nice to charge ten time as much as the oth er doctor for saying thst you don't know: any more about the case than he does. Puck. : ' : "I see the Russians have decided to win by tiring the Japs out." "Yes. I once knew a man who thought he'd do that with a bulldog that had secured a grip on his leg. But he finally decided that It would only be wasting time" Chicago Record-Herald.' She Jack played an awfully heart less trick on Flossie. He How's that? She Why, they were engaged, you know, and last night, at the ball masque, Jack made up so that Flossie didn't know him. He proposed and was accepted again! Puck. .:-.V'.." : X - An Indian Without a Country. George Foster, one of the patriarchs of the Cussehta town, appeared before the Dawes commission recently as a witness in an enrollment case. Fos ter is a sure enough full-blooded In dian, but he Is a msn without a coun-.. try. He was once enrolled as a Semi nole, but In art evil moment he elect ed to establish his citizenship In tho Creek Nation as a member of the, Cussehta town. His name was strh k- en from the Seminole roll and til roll wss closed forever, In accordance with treaty provision. . ' - Meantime he neglected to have name placed on the final full of tii Cussehta town, and so was shut out of both nations. He has made repent ed efforts to establish his rijliis i -i the Creek nation, but without smc Nothing but a special act nf cm can restore him bis lost clti '-v Kansas City Journal. The coiiilUliin nf (lie CI Iml'inf ry n" ' in r ' It t----4 h-- -i i - ' rm m 1
The Franklin Press and the Highlands Maconian (Franklin, N.C.)
Standardized title groups preceding, succeeding, and alternate titles together.
Nov. 16, 1904, edition 1
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