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The Banner-Democrat. (Lake Providence, East Carroll Parish, La.) 1892-current, July 07, 1894, Image 1

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Persistent link: http://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn88064237/1894-07-07/ed-1/seq-1/

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VOUM. V- LAK PV-E EAS CJ
VOLUME VII. LAKE PROVIDENCE, EAST CARROLL PARISH, LA., SATURIr, JULY , 1894.
AA DELIGHTFUL WOMAN. '
BY JOSEPH H&ATTON. a
ICopypght, iS04, by the Autbor.1
ELL, no," sad
the young fel
low, "I don't
-know that I
have had what
you would call b
a quarrel with
my father." C
"And yet you ai
\\t have left his
roof, where you
were so happy. k
. and I find you
here in London;
while I met
y ouf father y
down ito Bath and he saia you were not ,
on speaking termss"
"Did he?" said the young fellow;
"then I suppose we are not."
"Surely the trouble has not arisen t4
out of your marriage?" I said; "fathers
no longer impose their choice upon
their sons or daughters"
"Well, the fact is," said Ned Hen- n
shaw, whom I had known since he was C
a child, "I don't think I want to talk 0
about it."
"But I am anxious that you should. C
You were honest Tom lienshaw's only
son; you lived with him, shared his c
professionaT business, and he and you
were what due likes to see so much in
father and son--ehums, companions,
friends"
"Yes, that is so," said Ned. "Won't
you smoke? My wife has gone to an
'at home.' She will return very soon,
I hope, and then we are going to drive
to Richmond to dinner. Will you join
us?"
"Thank you, I cannot," I replied.
lighting a cigar, and waiting for Ned
to talk.
He was a successftl architect, had in
herited a moderate fortune, and he and
his father together owned considerable
property in the western city.
''"Who was your wife, Ned?"
"A widow," he replied.
"Indeedi Well, old Weller warned
LM agaiast them, but I have known
iarne very charming widows."
"My wife was a very charming
widow," said Ned, "and is a very charm
ung wife; but must 1 tell yen all about
it?"
"I think so. Your father was so reti
cent that the business strikes me as
mysterious, and I want to know with
whom I am to be friends, with father
.<t with eon."
"Oh with both," said Ned, "though I
suppose he will never forgive me."
" "You speak regretfully." 1
"It was like this, you see," said Ned,
"when my poor mother died my father
was inconsolable, at least for a whole
year. said he could no longer live in
the house, must leave it, the associa
tions were too much for him, and so
on.i I felt a good deal like that too un
til father engaged a housekeeper, and
the management of the place began to
hsanUme its old complete style, a place
for everything and everything in its
plae* nice breakfasts, good dinners,
servapta well under command; in 1
short, the house what it had previous
ly been-a model establishment. Then
we both settled down again, and began
to ftmd consolation in our sorrow, a*
something like compensation in od
admirably managed establishment 1
,say ours, you know, because I had ner
er left home except to serve my arti
cles, lad for the reason that I was
practIeally joint controller with my
father.
"Her name was Sinclair, this model
housekeeper, Mra Arkell Sinclair.
My father heard of her through a
trend. She was only two and thirty.
Her husband had.died two years after
their marriage, leaving her a beggarly
flity pounds a year; she had been
obliged to take a situation as a house
keeper, and she had left it, not because
she was proud, but because she could
-pt put up with the haughty manners
ad sperior airs of her mistress
. lady of title, by the way.
- ga Sinclair had herself been
""y wrell brought up, could sing
Sead play the piano, was well read, and
ii
u-au:s t~ YIrOU r .N IN
a~s wry as adndable boas
ar,*t~d vis3 erd r that she
wse agyIU Ifather wasted,
-r hscl been Lausaased
j~I esee B th se
there, what is the good of beating
about the bush-I fell in love with
Mrs. Sinclair. I didn't tell her so: but
she understood it."
"IBack a woman for that," I said, "it
is a matter of instinct with them."
"''Nodnbt," said Ned, "and it is a A
very happy thing for us fools of men
that it is so. When we were alone
Mrs. Sinclair and I called each other
I by our Christian names; she was
Marie, I was Ned. In my father's prel
ence we treated each other with ordin- b.
ary courtesy. One day my father said gr
to me: 'Ned, I want a word or two with Bi
you. I have resolved to marry again.' bh
He was a man of few words, as you m
know. I replica that I hoped he had of
made a good choice. 'Oh. yes,' he said, Cl
'I am sure of that, and convinced that
r you will approve of it. What do you Sc
think of Mrs Sinclair?' I exclaimed:
'You aýid enough to be her father!' be
He said was nothing of the kind, a
and if he were, surely that was a mat- If
ter for the lady's consideration. I said ul
I thought there might be some one GV
else to consider besides the lady. I M
felt that I was pale. Something in my s
manner betrayed my feelings to the ex- w
cited old man. His eyes were fixed up- v
on mine. I could not look him in the at
face. 'Good heavens, Ned!'" he ex- w
claimed, 'you don't mean to tell me w
that you are in love with Mrs. Sin- G
clair?' 'I did not mean to tell you; had tip
no thought of it,' I replied, 'but it is lo
true I am in love with her.' My fathex or
flung himself into a chair by
the table and buried his face in
in his hands. I walked about of
n the room, feeling very sorry fo, pl
him, but no less sorry for myself. a
'Have you told Mrs Sinclair the nature fr
at
rf
d
d ,
C Ic
tl
of your feelings towardser?' he asked k
presently, looking up st me in a fear t
d fully anxious kind of way that made
my heart ache. "Not in words,' I said l
le'Not in w~ords,' he repeated, still look t
a ing at me, 'but she knows?' 'I have not 01
told ler,' I said. 'o!' he replied, 'not P
Sin words,' again repeating my answer. ci
. 'Rave you asked Mrs. Sinclair to be'
cd Come your wife?' 'Yes,' he replied. o
S'When?' 'Almost this minute,' he an o
swered. 'And what was her reply? T
s 'Her reply,' said my father, rising from a
his seat and looking about him in a
in perplexed way, 'was that if I hai your a
. full and free and absqhute consent se
In would marry me.' 'My. free, full and i
in abaqute consent,' I said, now repeating i'
Smy father, my heart beating wildly. J
Wlt a selfish thing lwh e is. 1 would a
1 have laid my life down for my father, but a
v-I could not give up Marie Sinclair. It n
i as one thing to be in love, anothe to '
in tell the woman that you love her, the a
y very confession you feel may be youe c
loss of her. I felt as if I would 6
el like to go to my father anda
ir. take his hand, but somehow my
a heart was against. bim; it seemeJ
to me that he had acted an unkind and
a cruel part towards me, his only son.
Then tears eme into my eyes, and tI
n felt a perfect fool. His voice brought
me to my senses 'Speak Ned,' he said,
e 'speak! Have I yelr fud, free and ab. t
Id solute consent to marry Mrs Sinclair? tt
r 'No,' I said, 'by the Lord, not' My i
father staggered wherw he stood, bu I
he stiffened himself with an effort
&n felt that he was sufering. I longed t
Sfling myself into the old man1s arms
ad and say 'yes' the moment ster I had
said 'noe ' Then we leave it t her,' he
said. 'I love you both too dt, come
between yon; I love hef tq-well to
give her up without it  baou
wish; but'-he pushed pst m
rang the belL It teemed a ]p4rosi
thing to do, and it brought me out o
ay celoupf romance. 'Father,' Isaid,
going o him and laying pmy hand
on his arm, 'lorgive mrl' lie qook me
from him, without a word, a  rvant
eitered the room. Tell Mr ~ ~ah
my son wishes to speak with her."
Just as Ned arrived at this dramuati
situation it happened tht aoother bll I
trang. In real life ianldentsa do not aim
ways work up to wht La ealled a
dramatc elimax, though la the aes1
easeue Mrs Henabaw's return from the
'u home" Ned iad mentioned wrmsw
V rtet not altegether ianppropriate
As the great hCll bell ma Ng d Assuab
i h his nmarrate, saryinC "Thea's ms
I wife; ahe will be here ls. a mome t
I hear Jst time to tell you that IEer'
. de Mrs. Slolarr , and that we haew
nb neither of Mus seenmy father aleai s
d, day when he hbad tese aw wedas
ad wtb me about his mtrimbtmal lsat
'A C!EERFUL CHURCH." tha
aroi
we
S-;-. Er. Taimage Iays D Some the
Exco.lent Precepts rool
the
As Io Hlow to Heep the Church Cheerful d ot
and at the Same Time Preserve o t
the Frar and Loveof God WIE
-A Prayer for Mercy. God
and
The following sermon was delivered our
by Rev. T. DeWitt Talmage to a con- am]
gregation that filled every nook of the chu
Brooklyn tabernacle, and which had ado
barely been dismissed when fire once A
more deprived the church of a house fail
of worship. The gabject was: "A we
Cheerful Church," and the text: eve
Behold thou art fair. my love.-Solomon's up
Song. iv.. L
"Higher criticism" says that this ces
book of Solomon's Song is a love scene, got
a forlorn maiden sighing for her beau. alno
If so, it is an unclean and debauched
utterance inserted in the pure Word of
God, and is not fit for common reading. pre
My opinion is that it is an inspired ode, an'
setting forth the feeling of Christ bo- the
ward the Church and of the Church to- ht
ward Christ. Christ is the bridegroom, p06
and the Church is the bride. The same Kit
words we can utter to-day truthfully,
whether in regard to the Church of in
God in general or this Church in par- bri
ticular: "Behold, thou art fait, my
love." The past week has been
one of prolonged congratulation for an(
that we have for twenty-five years
been permitted to associate with each wh
other in the relation of pastor and peo
ple. When I came to Brooklyn I found ape
a small band of Christian disciples who
from various causes had become less aw
and less, until they stood upon the cue
very verge of extinction as a church, heo
and the question was being agitated we
from time to time whether it would be sui
possible to maintain a church life hda
longer. Indeed, had not those men
and women been consecrated and we
earnest, they would have surrenderd apj
to the adverse circumstances They tio
marshaled a congregational meeting, of
and, gathering up all the forces possi- Go
ble, they cast 19 votes for a pastor, all lair
of which I am happy to have received. ant
It was not through any spirit of per- inR
sonal courage or reckless adventure
that led me, from one of the warmest
and most cengenial pastorates in Phil- hei
adelphia that a man ever enjoyed, to chi
this most uninviting field; but it was noi
the feeling that God had called me to a
the work, and I was sure that He would p
see me through.
I have thought that it might be th4
profitable to us to state briefly what in
kind of a church we have been trying li
to establish.
In the first place, I remark that we ma
heve been trying to build here a Chris- ma
tian church; distinctively such; in del
other words, a church where we should be
preach the Lord Jesus Christ and Him
crucified. My theology is all gone into
five lettera-Jesus, Jesus, the pardon ea'
of all offenses, Jesus, the foundation an
of all structures. Jesus, the balm of ab
all wounds. Jesus, the eyesalve for no
all blindness. Jesus, the guide through pa
all perplexities. Jesus, the hope for pe
all disacuragements. Jesus,.the reform Be
for all worngs. I have faith to be
live that there is more power fr
in one drop of the blood of
Jesus Christ to cure the woes of
the world than in an ocean full of hu
man quackery. Jesus is the grandest co
note in any minstrelsy. He is the ie
o brightest gem in any crown. The cen- th
ter of ggery circumference. The cir
cumferele of ever penter. The paci- I
t fier of all turbulance. The umpire of mi
d all disputes. Jesus! Jesust At His Je
table all nations are to sit Around a
this throne all worlds are to revolve.
lie is to be the irradiation of the uni- an
verse. Jesus! Jesus! It is that truth
I that we have tried to preach in this
i tabernacle.
Do you gsk more minutely what we in
believe? ' can tell you. We have no
l iry, withered, juiceless theology. We ei
believe in.God, the Father Almighty, Si
maker of Heaven and earth, the deliv- til
erer of the distressed, the home for the to
homeless, the friend for the friendless. an
We believe in Jesus Christ, able to save p
d to the uttermost, pardoning the guilty, di
SImpating the righteousness to the be- F
liever. We believe in the Holy Ghost,
Sthe oomftorter, the sanctifier, cheering 1
the heart in life's ills, and yt
lug bright lights in every z
landing place. We believe la
Sthat the @'whole race is soet
sunken in sin that nothing but the '
d oapatnpotent arm of God can ever lift it h(
Souah We believe in grae-fre- graee,
t soverein gnrace, triumphant grace, Y
b ternal trres. We believe in a'Bible-
autheatic in its statements, immacu- h
i lat in its tehe ga, glorions in its
Sprosoats. We lbee ln Heaven, the
abode of the righteous; and in hel!, i
the rpId4enee of those who are sal- t
Ssupite-of their own free choice re- dl
i sag vtind merey. We believe in
i the o!vS Of al men who, asecept G
rt ( st by .th, be they sprinkled l
o "-' l lh 1 s qrahip they in eathe
drel w s log pabFia, belidve they in 0
t PFsebpiersanlsm or Episcopsey, dwell 0"
S.theyr 4Wr Itaoa ikies or in Sibertan
. -ow ebmau, be they gtbiopita of
All one in Chruis, one
i fith. We btlt the tabre *
Sf p esaa setting fortH
teaiesQ? of the Gospel of ii
JIW4fOI. ald that woe Ihe. 1
Sben o Iaskl I, a l
41 Io& todb how
·Ir _
that is, a large family circle gathered tw
around a fireplace. For many years is,
we had felt that an amphitheater was sit
the only proper shape for an audience ey
room. The prominent architects of wi
the country said: "It can not be done. im
You need a churchly build:ng." And sic
so we had plan after plan of churchly of
buildings presented; but in due time to
God sent a man who grasped our idea pli
and executed it. So far from being a mi
failute, it satisfied our want, and all el
our three churches were built on the all
amphitheatrical plan, and scores of
churches all over the country have
adopted the same plan. s.
And, my brethren and sisters, we
fail in our wort; just in proportion as
.we try to be like other churches, like
every man, to be individual, gathering
up all its peculiarities and idiosynera
cies, and hurling them toward some yc
good and grand object. In bther words, Je
no two churches ought ever to be just "1
alike. Here is a church, for in- "'
stance, whose object it is to at
prepare philosophers and artists ar
and critics for Heaven. God speed "I
them in the difficult work! Here is a sa
church, on the other hand, that pro
pose to bring only the poor into the "I
Kingdom uf Jesus Christ, looking not h<
after the rich. God speed such a church m
in its undertaking. But there is a at
larger idea that a church may take- ki
bringing in the rich and the poor, the o0
wise and the ignorant, the high and fa
and the low; so that kneeling beside pi
each other shall be the man faring pi
sumptuously every day, and the man hi
who could not get his breakfast. God G
speed such a church. de
Oh! my friends, we need to break Of
away from slavery to ecclesiastical tl
customs We dare not sing if anybody ai
hear us. We dare not preach unless
we have rounded off our sentences to as
suit the criticism of the world. We iv
dare not dress for church until we ki
have examined the fashion-plates, and it
we would rather stay at home than
appear with a coat or hat not sanc- tl
tioned by custom. When will the day cl
of deliverance come to the churchkpf I
God, when, instead of a dead religion, ti
laid out in state of catafalque of pomp.
and insincerity, we shall have a liv- bm
ing, bounding, sympathetic, glowing b;
Christianity? a]
I remark, further, that we have tried a
here to build and to conduct a cheerful h
church. While, as you know, we have s
not held back the terrors of the law h
and the sterner doctrines of the Gos- h
pel, we have tried in this house to y
present to this people the idea that i'
the gladdest, brightest, happiest thing a
in the universe is the Christian re- n
ligion. There is so much trouble in
the world; business men have so
many anxieties; toiling men have so
many fatigues; orphans have so many
desolations-for (God's sake, if there h
be any right place on earth, show it ti
to them. Let the church of Jesus b
Christ be the most cheerful spot on a
earth. Let me say that I do not want v
anybody to come wb'ning around me s
about the Christian religion. I have a
no faith in a religion made up of equal a
i parts of wormwood, vinegar and red ii
pepper. If ihe religion that is pre- n
sented to us be a depression, we I
will get along better without it. v
If it be a joy, let it shine out I
from your lace and from your conver- c
sation. If a man comes to my house a
to talk of religion with a lugubrious I
countenance and manner full of snif- a
fle and dolorousness, I feel like saying v
to my wife: "You had better lock up c
the silver before he steals something." d
I have found it an invariable rule that a
men who profess faith in the Lord I
Jesus Christ, priding themselves at the e
same time on their sanctimoniousness, i
always turn out badly. I never knew i
i an exception. While those who are c
the most consistent, the most useful t
and the most consecrated have per- I
fume in their conversation and Heaven c
in their face.
o The happiest Christians that I have
ever known have been persons from
sixty to eighty years of age. By that
,o time people get over the shams and pre
e tenses of society, and have no longer I
. any patience with anything like im- 1
Sposture in religion. O Christian! how
dare you be gloomy? Is not God your
Father?, Is not Jesus Christ your I
Saviour? Has notyour path all through I
life been strewn with mercies? Are
Syou insensible to the fact that there
are glories awaiting you in the better
Sland-doxologies of celestial worship, 1
eternal chorals, tearlesseyes,aongs that 1
Sresound under arches of. strength and 1
Shosannas that clap their hands at the
foot of the throne? Is it nothing to
you that all the hills of Heaven are
radiant with the faces of. those whol
. have tone up from you,. and who are
Swaiting far your coming. ready to keep
we ith you eternal holiday? Is there noth
ing in songs that never cease, in hearts
l- that ever aehcein splendors that never
Sdie, to make you glad? Then tahe so
in more mercy at the hand of thy i
Give basek the marriage ring of loVe
I that Jesus put on your finger in the
. day of year espousal! Plant no more
j of the flowers of Beaven wh$ there
1 ought to be hothintg but nettles and
Slghtshadeol
of We try to mak3thsh chnrch a chber
Sfelharurch. A Iain, oa Stuy after
Snoon, stands ta his told says
tb "How shall I meet them pblltga ?
o How aa n , enare this new dat
E that eamy uean mse?" He goes
it boae. Sabbath mornintag Sands him in
. tlhhouse f iod.. Throrugh the sonlg,
therogh the iermen, through the
.1 prayesr tlhsf' Jes Christ says to
mthat mIa. "eaauM t I have watched
asd m* I wib , Utro .the e ;
hardtors A rebish uM'rp in Heamr
ydt
twenty years ago. How faded It
is, and now out of date! She
sits and listens as well as she can. Her sb
eyes are so dim she can not see half ,
way across the church. Her ear is so
imperfect that she can only atch con- the
sionally a note of the-psalml a word w
of the preacher. Someone sitting next
to her gives her a book and finds the .p'
place for her. She says: '"Thank you,
miss, thank youl" She holds the book til
close up to her eyes, and, with a voloe
all full of tremors, sings:
.Jesus, lou of my soul,
Let me to Thy bosom fly, w
While the billows near me roll,
While the tempest still is high; mil
Hide me, O. my Saviour hide, Th
Till the storm of life is peat for
Safe into the haven guide- t
Oh: receive my soc~ at lst
And Jesus says to her: "Mother, are
you weary?" and she says: "Yes, sul
Jesus, I am very tired." Jesus says: of
"Mother, are you poor!' And she says: o
"Yes, I am very poor. I can net sew no
any more. I can not knit any more. I an
am very poor." Jesus says to her:
"Mother, would you like to rest?" She
says: "Yes, Lord, that is what I want th4
-rest." "Courage, mother," says Jesus, we
"I will see thee through." She goes tir
home. The next morning, in the tene- A
ment house, some one dwelling on o
another floor comes to her room and i«
knocki No answer. The door is
opened. She is dead! The night be
fore the chariots of God halted at that uv
pillow of straw, and Jesus kept Ills
promise. He said that He would give
her rest, and He has given her rest. an
I Glory be to God for the height, the
depth, the length, and the breadth mi
of such Christian comfort! Oh!
that we might .have such joy
as that which inspired the men at p
the battle of Leuthen. They were
singing a Christian song as they went la
into battle. A general said to the
king: "Shall I stop those people sing- th
I ing?" "No," said the kfng; "men that
can sing like that can fight." I would
that we had a singing church, a joyful l"
church, a jubilant church, a comfort- y
ing church. for then we would have a lb
triumphant church. I
Did I say that the clurch ought to
be abreast of the times? I take that1
back. The church of God ought to be
ahead of the times-as far in advance
as the cross of Christ is ahead of all ve
I human invention. Paul was a thou- wi
C sand years ahead of the day in which a0
r he lived. The swift-feoted years that er
have passed since Luther died have not or
yet come up to Luther's grave. Give e.
t iniquity four thousand years the start, a
and the feet of Christianity are so t
nimble that if you will but give it fuall
a swing, it will catch up and pass it in I
o two bounds. The church of God ought 
o to be ahead of the times. in
y I remark, further, that we have
e here tried to build a church abreast of
t the times. It is all folly for us to try m
a to do things the way they did fifty or
n a hundred years ago. We might as C
t well be plowing with Elijah's crooked
e stick, or go into battle with Saul's A
e armor, or prefer a canal boat to A
i1 an express train, as to be cllng
d ing to old things. Whq$ we most
need now is*a wide-awake church. i
e People who are out in the
world all the week, jostled against this
t lightning-footed century, come into the t
church on the Sabbath, and go right to U
e sleep, unless they have a spirited serv
is ice. Menengaged in literary eillngs -
f- all the week, reading pungent, sharp b
g writings, can not be expected to
p come and hear our eeclesiastical hum- I
drum. If a man stays at home P
it on Sundays and reads the news-_ 
d papers, it is because the newspapers a
e are more interesting. We need, my
s, brethren, to rouse up, and stop hunt
v ing with blank cartridges. The
'e church of God ought to be the leader,. s
11 the .interpreter, the inspirer of the 5l
r. age. It is all folly for us to be di
n cussing old issues-arraigning Nero tl
hanging Absalom, striking the Phills- ,a
re tines with Shamgar's ox-goad -when n
m all around about us are iniquities to be ;
t slain.
e- I remark, further, that we have tried
ir here, In the love and fear of God, to
n- build a church that would' be chara P
w terised by conversions. I have heard
ir of very good people who could preach "
sr on for fifteen or twenty years.and see
rh no conversions but yet have faith. It
re takesa very good man todo thaLt. I
re do not know how a man ean keep his
er faith up if souls are not brought to
p, the Lord Jesus Chuist That ehunch
at that does not bring men and women
Id to the feet of the Saviour is a failure.
ic I care not hw. fine the building or
to how sweat the music, or how eloquent
re the preaching, or how elegapt the sar
oo roundings-it is a failure. The chrek
re of God was made for jeust one thing
p to gret men out of the world into the
h- kingdom of Heaven. The tendency in
te churches is to spend their time ir.g
er lug fine touches to Chstias alwready
o polished. We keep aour mligisa too 1
much indoors,sahd under shelter,whea it
e ought to be climbing the roks of hew
be ing in the fores, Then it woald be a
re stalwart elio robust religo, a
re religion able to digast he .stau n tmet
ad of the Word, instead of bee-g kpt oa
the pap and gruel of ptU iaaslM
lam. It is high the that we sr w
r the Sunday clothe et ct skly eee
s: tality and pat on the work-dqy dgesse
San earnest, actisve Chr ..lt..
e I thak yoa for a~lpu IrIndei
esa foy all year .ignthvwje¶t ~ 1
in prayers for ms p paS .
ig, row to.mst that I i ·
be ves fur- a b mt -
to tota ihen.Ifsatst c
N'-.C
GOLD PRODUCTION.
the World's Saeppt o the Preeeous Xe so
al for Colasae.
Production of Lgold and silver has al
ways had a remarkable influence on nel
the trade and prices of the commercial pr
world. Except in remote ages or in att
partly-civilized countries, these two
rmetals have be en the source of money. ma
Even the coin tn existence at any one
time was continually disappearing.
It was lost from the pocket, melted
up into plate, or exported to the dense- cot
ly-populated regions of Asia, or the wli
whole stock was diminished by the a5o
minute wear and tear on each coin. jau
The opening of new mines has there
fore always had striking influences, 1
through its effect on the total money w
supply. kn
It was from Africa. that the largest in
supplies of gold came in the early days fat
of civilization; and the greatly in
creased production of gold in Africa is sec
now exciting attention and interest
among all the stuaents of the mone- a
tary question. Pr
For many centuries after the fall of
I the Roman empire gold production, as see
well as that of silver, ceased almost en
tirely. Then came the discovery of da
America, and of the enormous hoards wi
of precious metals in the cities of Mex- on
leo and Peru.
It was in those days that the "tress- th
ure ships," bound for the European m4
coast, fell a constant prey to the roving
English war-vessels orQueen Elizabeth.
and to the still more famous and dan
igerous "bucaneers" of the Spanish gr
{ main.
At last, in 1847, well in season forthe th
revival of the world's commercial in- kr
dustry, came the discovery of the great ar
California gold mines. Those of Aus
tralia were discovered about four years be
later, and the annual gold production ye
rose at once to a total the largest in
the world's history. ti
i Even now, in our days of improved
and scientific mining, the world's year- e
ly yield of gold, in the exhaustion of
1 the richest western mines, is scarcely uj
two-thirds of the vast yearly produe
tion of the "fifties."
SAt the very time when the gold pro
duction of the world at large was
showing signs of decrease, another and
1 very remarkable area for gold mining
was discovered. Twenty-six years ago, M
some explorers in South Africa discov- si
t ered gold in what is now the Transvaal
or South African republie. Hardlyw
enough was found to pay prospectore
for their labor, and for eighteen or r
twenty years the gold production of t1
South Africa remained almost a cipher. cc
n Then between 1885 and 1888 new dis
t coveries of far richer mines were made m
Sin the same region. Companies were a
fqrmed at once in London and other M
" money centers to work the mines; im
migrants locked to the new district to tl
make their fortune, as they did to s
a California in 184 and to Australia in
1858.
d The results were most remarkable.
° Africa's gold production in 1887 was
0 valued at less than three-quarters of a "
Smillion dollars. The next year five
Smillions' worth was taken out. In
1890 the prod et was ten millions, and
Slast year South Africa contributed to
Vhe world's stock of gold no less than ti
thirty-three millions-es much as the
a United tates had produced in the 1
Syear, az~d an amount ex- h
1893 only by this country and t
by Australia.
° It is not supposed that the full ca
Spacity of South Afriea's gold mines has
yet been developed. There may be dis
covered other gold-fields in districts as A
yet unvisited by elplorers.
" This possibility played its part "inthe
SAfrican "partitios treatise" of the a
r ropean states in 1800. It has influenced
' still more powrfully the recent
. Matabele war, undertaken chiefy for
the purpose of protecting the pioneer
. miners an4 settlers of a British com
,n mercial company from the raids of
Nor are there lacking signs that this
ad year's gold productioan in other nations c
to ll be larger. The great fall in the 6
.price of silver, measured by gold, f
which has forced many silver mines in
Sthis country to shut down, has turned
the attention of miners to long-desert- I
Sed gold felds. The result has been
seen already in a ecealderable increase '
is of our own gold prodnetion of 13W
Youth's Companion.
FROM NATURE'S MODEL
Sasee~saal Iveessems. U'w 3h e
t If yon will eas.nlly study almeet I
Severy invention, ven the very simple
o oe, whateh you en rea sy nder
stand, youa wi disever thm ia nearly I
every ase they ate only the ApUlies
in tions of somethaing thatnitt hemlt
invented le~ar ages
ly Nature herself seas to be Islba -hau
- tible in reior-res Wheneve s hei
needs a thing, when is neesesary hr
" the preservaties or orts edrna ea
te re, then she looks abou t ad  a
S't pIsao o f o4 a tro-•
taught men bow ale bgretatqt am nt
Stib
A BADGERED WITNE .$
SMe Was Treable a tWa, r at lla eSi
Told-Uee Sane.
"Your honor, I have a witaem i* the
next room who is able and rnay iM
prove an alibi for this man," d I :le
attorney for the defense eagerly.
"Very well, bring him in" ema'
manded the judge.
"It's a woman, your hence."
"Well, well, bring het.ia."
"But, your honor, I .ea not have the
counsel for the proseecution badger mw
witness. She is a very reapdtbleper
son, and has never been in a eMortef
justice before."
"liring her in."
The woman was brought in sad duly
sworn, and told to relate what hes
knew, and to remember that she was
under oath. She was short and red
faced, and began volubly. e
"You see, jedge, it was this way, I
sed to my darter, sea I-,-"
"Stop, stop. You are only to make
a plain statement. Where was the
prisoner when you first saw hint?"
"That's what I was getting at, I
sez to my dafter, sea I-"
"Never mind what you said to your
daughter. What day of the month
was it that you last san the man now
on triaL"
"I gaess I ought ter know. It wps
the day our folks went to eenty
meetin'."
" ut what day of the month, and
what day of the week was that?"
"Same day I made Almay's new sage'
green gown."
"Woman," exclaimed the counsel for
the prosecution, "you evideatly don't
know anything about this ase. You
are excused."
"I dunno as I've done anything to
be excused for. I only wanted to tell
you-"
"Wh~t don't you answer aplail qHes
tion? You' are trifling with the coart."
"No I ain't, nuther. Whg, qesteso
hey you got?"
"Can you tell the day of t1e month.
upon which you last saw the prisner?'
"Yes, it's the 15th, sartin sure."
"Fifteenth of what?"
"This month."
"Why, that is to-day."
"Ain't I seein' him now?"
"Look here," said the wrathy attor'
ney, rising and pointing a long, lear
finger at the witness, "you ought tol i
able to answer a simple question, A
woman of your age."
"Jedge," said the witness, farina
round upon the judicial ctair. "I ash
the purtection of this ooort. I didn't
come here to be insulted, First he
called me a woman, then he talkaabout
my age. 'Tain't fair,'jee, and I ala't
agoin' to tell all I know while he's is
the room."
Thare was a laugh at the expense of
the attorney, and by. dint of. maeb
soothing the good woman was at last
induced to tell all she knew.-Detrmit
Free Press.
SOON FORGOTTEN.
--
A had Comment Upon the Death oa
Napoleon Deasaerte.
The vanity of human endeavor, when
it is directed toward the attainment of
selfish ends, was never better flius'
trated than by the manner in whiob
the news of the death of Nepoleen
Bonaparte at St. Helena was received
in Paris. Napoleon had-been the mas.
ter of Europe; he had smehed the
height of human glory, and in a ".. "
and particularly in Paris, al thinis
had centered around his name.
Quite recently the memoirs of Loets
Aime Martin, a French man of lettes.
of the early part of the presept nea*
tury, and an acute observer of men ead
affairs in his time, have been abiblt t
in Paris for the first time. Iat4d
nuuddi date of July 6, 1853, oeouiaD
whieh shows what the name of the
"Emperor Napoleon" had beeome at
that time.
"Bonaparte is dead," says Marti ,
"and the news is repeated cldly
forgotten, and people go on to talk d.a
other things I wiahed prtiseularly to
Sknow what effest this news would
have upon the people. I pased -the
Plsias-Royal. A publie erier allekd -
S'Here's your account e dthe death 61
Bosparte!'
"This ory, which it seemed t
Shave appalled Wurope, was without#
- feet; no onelistmed. Thes wa
purchaser of the mna's wasot evo*ry
one was inditL~ereat.
"I entered severu ea sm, sasnad "
the sme inditdfeietse-Octld ever
* where; no one's tntsi;tgsin was -
touched. I an no, same ste r ti s
t hearts, but this man has4 iaip4
e mor of astoothamat tas lit i,,'
r. "In one esfe! heard talpse ks tulfaj
y about his death, sa-d thee -uk' wetn
i onto talk about the rqeh.lp ,
a And tr whis L isl l.ro~-:~lt
. "I wish yen worad ewhet Seth..
matter with thls,"-aid the agaugilsk
- banding his wateh aeram :me ebw.
m a hair tainfled up In te heLbabsa
st wheel."
4 The )sJeweler peaed it, i wed l
, t ,erharyhor e r leg .ssa e s t... . .
es woa e*teb.
-'k
i f. .. ..  -u :.'...
" "+" i~,.. .  '::..-++ + .. ....

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