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a. A f .... J S i .4 rf" 5 ly Jiy Jly JK j ESTABLISHED it! 1878. HILLSBORO, N. C. THURSDAY, APRIL 30, 1903. NEW SERIES-VOL. XXII. NO. 14. M ii i ii i in II I II I II 1 Y m ! -': ' " " " ! I HAY, Is full u pi; Whenever you needta: Nice Suita Nice Dress, a Pretty Hat, or anything to wear, he will save you mo.. ey. - - - - Bargains miles to A SERMON FOR SUNDAY AN ELOSUENT DISCOURSE ENTITLED "INCREASE OF FAITH." Si Tito Per. Qainoy Ewlur Shows Dow Thil IJecomes the Prayer f Our Souls When the World's Perplexities Bear 1 Down Upon Us. New York City. The Rev. Quiney Ewing. of St. James' Episcopal Church, Greenville, Miss., who was at one time un tler consideration for one of the important pulpits of Brooklyn, recently preached a thoughtful sermon on "Increase of Faith." Mr..Kving took his text from Luke xvii: ir. '"Lord, increase our faith." In the course of the sermon he said: We do not know why precisely the disci pics should have made this request at this particular time. Jesus had just said to Iher.': "If thy brother trespass against thee rebuke him, and if he repent, forgive him, and ii ho trespass against thee seven times in a day. and seven times in a day turn to thee, saying, 'I repent thou shalt forgive him.'' Then very abruptly comes from them the request, "Increase our faith." Possibly there was some tone of impatience m i.ieir voices as they spoke, lliey may. have recahod that m the old boo or .Le viticus was to be found practically the san:n commandment that He was giving them; that in the book of Leviticus they were taught not to hate their brethren, nor to bear grudge against the children of their people, but to love their neighbor as themselves; and they may have felt that there was no need for them to tear this old teaching over again from the lips of the Master; that He was but wasting time in telling them what they already knew .so well. So their request. Increase our faith may have meant, "Tell us something that we do not already know something hid from the prophets and wise men of old times; tell us something, show us something, do some thing which will make us surer that you are indeed the Messiah we and our fathers have looked for; that our hope in You is not misplaced; that You are truly the promised Deliverer. Make us more certain that Ave were justified in breaking away from the authority of the Scribes and Pharisees, in forsaking all to follow You. JJo not be simply repeating to us what we may read ourselves in an ancient book; fay something, do something, reveal some thing which will certify our faith in You as the Messiah." Or the request may have had a profound er import and been uttered in a tone of sou.ti of His hearers the accusing conscious fioss that, though thev had known for so long; the divine law of dutv toward their Jieishbors, yet never had "they or their lathers been able to live up to'it. to real lze 111 their human life the divine ideal, and , jcpompanying the consciousness of past tailuvc may have been the reflection that 'yyi noaia tney De able to realize that flivme ideal, to expel from their, human iiearU all hatreds, all resentments, all con tempts all unforgivingness and look upon tilPir fc.il--,,. ..'1. . -a.--j i. vision ot redemptive charity. (, And so their request mav have meant, Upen wider our spiritualyes. that we may see with You; lead us, draw us tip to lOUr smritnnl Uin-i-, 14. -1 ,.,;tu v 1 1 11 us onr the secret of Your Christliness, that we "ay rise to full sympathy with Your di Vnc Purpose and build with You the kine om ot God among men as Y'cu would nave ltbmlded." But whatever mav have Snen- clvacter of the disciples' re K 11 whether of impatient criticism or numbk ! speculation in the words that came j-om their lips. Increase our" faith, we may all utter the deepest and devoutest prajer ot ths mogt nee(jful oenta of ?L--uVan life' '"'Increase our faith." How 'y.W becomes the prayer of our lA at ,tines when the infinite problems and PrpleS1tiCs of this problematical, per ?K orld bear down upon xis Ad tWi gye-ourselves to reflection upon in S -U(i ruel and apparently, imend Vs;wermg 0f good and evil; the suffering of SVmbered millions; the. vast failures traSr ftlc1e.and triumphs of injutice; the S.l ,ri?ht victories of for lt hJ? lUlr ba,ttks of gifting truth KS?111 by-the mind heart of S ''a1 Painful, questionable pro gj ot indubitable good everywhere -luon v out JiS01re?ectin' are- tempted to tn? tJ,9 2 lo" despair, or in danger of tk?Axna?tere4 by that deen hoDelessnem no , n? sound and snows itself in deathE i fg?; hopelessness, that a on to vw Cart- of ? 00d does' jndeed- throb that tvl l0:'y m tmngs evil; hopelessness. ?lad-lf?VVaor??W8 of humanity will be. Hope i nond .uoble,r than its yesterdays: fce ore ' thatJth ronW we know Avill odv iKp.T -y' tan? the 8od we dream em-indh-iduJ l l ffct? hopelessness, that our that we Lf S' a11 that can say, all ieut l?v ' are not mere vain. tran s. v lTgs-agams te?nal fate, power the' .torm Tms of insects fluttering in . ,VU- ettect anv bpfft 'of the anlA1'6' THow rauch that prayer ;jnean til V ' In.c"ase our faith, mav cry lor rescue to. tije 1b seu-c.istrust, of unfeigned humility and supplication. Suddenly while Jesus was pcakinsr there mav have awakened in the ,iou your vision of God and man; let firm!- ii , . . 1 vast ". nuiu me invisin e Toimtain nt -THIS ';;:GBEj&T 3BIc Ii uiiiiii:; O F he has. It Will trade with him. visiWe Power that male us and the world; .1 pleading with that Power Invisible, whose name we cannot then utter, whose attributes we hesitate then to declare, that again we may be privileged to pray, 'Our Father:" that again we may feel ourselves His children: that real enough may be- co:ne.Jiis presence m our lives, to uanisii from Sis all doubt that the world intelligi tit si ';qSn jo Jxv. Gqi2iiaTimn .to . 'aci His keeping; all susDicion. that any gooct dies, tlfcit any right fails, that any tlironeil and crowned power of iniquity can swine this earth outside, the circle of His Fath er's purpose and His Father's love. But it is not only in times of sorrows sad ness, perplexity that the request of the apostles should be our prayer, for that re quest of theirs points to an eternal and universal need of the human soul, the need to-day, to-morrow and forever of a firmer grasp of God, a clearer vision of His pur poses, a deeper reading of His will, in or der that we may live and save ourselves in the way divine. Perhaps from the stand point of the need of some of us it is mora necessary for us to pray fervently that prayer, "Increase our faith," in the sea sons of our greatest joy thau in the days of our deepest anguish: more necessary at times when the world shines bright aibout us and we are conscious of the burden of no perplexity and no misgiving, and dis posed to be thoroughly satisfied with our selves, our performances and with things as they are; for then, it may be, we ax-e in greatest danger of forgetting God, of grow ing unmindful of our personal dependence upon Him, of crowding Him out of our life, of skimming gayly the gay surface or things with eyes and ears blind and deaf to their eternal aspect, their profound and supreme appeal. Perplexed, bewildered, crushed, under the stress of deep personal anguish, we may think God far from us, all out of touch with our lives a?id their needs. But to think God at all, however far we put Him from us. however grimly we deny our selves all consoling faith in His wisdom and goodness to tni.ik God at all is infi nitely better than to forget, to ignore Him utterly, as if our goodness and our happi ness did not need Him; as if the world about us were fair enough and bright enough, and altogether satisfactory enough with or without His presence! Do you ask what sort of faith this is we need to pray for to have increased? Is it faith in some parfcie liar dogma clearer mental comprehension of some series of metaphysical propositions faith in the in fallibleness of some verbal formula? .Nav, the faith of our deeper need is that faith which means steadying vision of the di vine unseen and the divine eternal; pro found consciousness from moment to mo ment of what the poet has railed "the deep below the deep and the height beyond tha height;" nobler eonrJctiori within ns, be comine ever more ineradicable and. uncon querable, that the real va'ue of things i a spiritual value, their real meaninjr a spirit ual meaning, their real eml a spiritual end. This is the faith upon which depends ulti mately our slrener.hening and saving; tho faith which our Bibles, our churches, our creeds, our dogmas. ouv devolion were meant to inspire, and which, if they do not inspire, they are but a sounding brass and a tinkling cymbal. This i: the faith we need to pray for. kneeling in our pews on Sundays, or busy at our work on week days, increase of vision, of faculty, to see and feel below the earthly deeps and be yond the earthly : heights, and when we pray God to increase for us this funda mental faith, be tempted to dictate to God how He shall answer us or when. We may want one answer; He may know that we need another. We may choose to have our answer in full all at once: He mav choose to give us but the .first syllable of it to-day. and to prolong .the giving of it through the years of a lifetime, perhaps through the aeons of eternity. We may undertake in our wisdom to impose condi-, tions iioon God that we imagine He must fulfill if He would answer our prayer, for getting the one fundamental condition, that we must impose upon ourselves hon est eagerness to hear the higher voices that may call to us from aay to day, and to obey them when they do: honest struggle to beat back the unholy temptations that beset us. darkening the way to our feet: honest purpose to do the duties that throng us hourly, momently, and in. their aomg ultimately illumine any darkness the soul can enter! The raver of the a.To5flpR wna TtcwArd hardly as thsy expeeted certainly it might be, but answered nevertheless and to a de gree of richness that they wers not able all ai nce to fathom; answered for them, a it has been through the ases for al! their successors by right of spiritual inher itance; for them a for him. great and good apostle unto us of our modern time, who walked through the fires of sacrifice and came in and ont here among us for a score of years, fighting his t?ood fVht, his fight of good, his fifrht for God and man. whos words are vital yet within these walls, and beyond them where men speak the Eng lish tongue: answered. I say, that prayer fo- them of -the earlier time, for him of this later, not by any flashing miracle of word or deed; not by any startling revela-. tion of a new heavens and a new earth; not by any suddenness of divine destruc tion and reconstruction; nav, but by and through a gradual growing sympathy with the purposes, of the Bedeeming Mas ter; oy and through the deepening, widen ing atonement of-their souls and his; bv and through their effort to live th life tjjM worshiped His. and suffering and crn- CALL ID - LIMClrM1.'M AND pay you to travel 100 ciftxions. it meant "to them" to be and" fro what should bear true witnes to a Christ. And thus only is it that God can fulfill for any of us the rr?ver, Increase ovr faith. Thp eternal Father of ..our spirits rar meet their deeper yearninr for large faith, fo clearer vision, only hrough ad by the. human experiences He has made possible for us from day to day, the life of effort, of struggle, of heroism. Hp has made it, our privilege to live. The readiness to do His will reveals it; the seeking to re alize His purposes interprets them, and closer, ever closer, becomes the meeting point of our actual earth and -our possible heaven, as we resolve that our earthliest efforts shall bo noble enough to bespeak a heavenly meaning, and our earthliest hopes heroic enough to prophesy a heavenly con summation. Growing: Faitli. Growth is characteristic of all life. It is an evidence of health and increasing strength. Kvery soul is born, as a child into God's kingdom. It must begin, and all beginnings are small. In our, judgments of others we ought to remember this fact. One . has no right to expect from a child that which belongs to manhood. When Abraham was first called into God's service he came v.s has every one since. His faith was untried and his growth just begun. God promised him great things which he hesitated to believe. When told that his descendants were to be as numerous as the stars he staggered at the though i-. All passed like a dream before him. Tht oa triarch was skeptical, "Lord, how shall I know that I shall inherit it?" God's word was not sufficient. He wished some evi dence that would appeal to his positive knowiedge. He wished to know. Years after that man staggered not at the com mand of God when told to slay his own. The difference was not in the quality of of his faith. It was the same man further on. God's laws apply in principle alike to all. Abraham s experience becomes in a measure a part of our own. A living faith, solves all things. Abraham's vision of the femoking lamp and parted sacrifice was but temporary. It served him for the moment and then became a recollection. But his faith became a permanent ortf. It was a lamp that grew the brighter. Here lies the strongest evidence of our acceptance with God. The vine lives because of its attach ment to the tree. It draws its life from other veins. Is your horizon wider, vour faith stronger, your sacrifice more willing? These are your assurances of greater things beyond. Presbyterian Journal. .... Doing Wftat We Can. Doing what we have the power to do is our highest privilege and duty. We often feel that, if we had more money, or more influence, or ' more power, we could, do something worth doing, but, as it is, our Eossibilities are sadly limited, and we can ave no hope of greatty honoring God, or helping our fellows. Yet the one woman in the world whose name stands highest above her fellows for what she did in her day and generation was not a woman of great wealth or of special power. Of her it is said simply, "bhe hath done what sin could." She may have thought that her sphere and abilities 'were limited, but God blessed her simple doing with His blessing and with her ever-growing fame. All that God would have' us do is to do what we can. That much we ought to be ready to do gladly .Sunday-School Times. , w . Christian Faitli. ''Sun of my soul, Thou Saviour .dear," is a line that ought to be said every hour of a Christian's life. Some good people are the prey of natural despondent tempera ments. Such need a double supply of grace ttnd must pray for it. The worries of busi ness or household care, the loss of sleep or the derangement of the bodily machin ery put such Christian folk under a cloud very often. To-day they sing like.-larks. To-morrow the barometer goes' down and they are in the dumps again.. Such people should look after their bodily health as. a spiritual duty. Moreover they should keep their Christian faith where it : will not be exposed to every east wind or drenched to death by every shower that falls. Home Thoughts. High thinking chisels the features into the beuity of a pure and refined expression. The tone of the mind assuredly reveals it self on the face. If our thoughts are kind, generous and forgiving, our faces will un consciously reveal the sweetness of these virtues. Into a kind heart God pours His light, which radiates on -the face and makes it fait and pleasing. 1 1 i .- ... -.. - Christian Joy. . Christian joy is an experience of great depth and solemnity." If never overlooks that, sadness and sternness of ilfe; it is never shallow- or unreflecting; it is re strained, tender, sympathetic, confident. We know i'; when we see.it in the face of any whom wc 'loye; it helps us. R. J. Campbell. . j Figures That Stagger. The nearest star, whose distances astronomers think tney know, is Alpha Centaur, and .it is distant from us four light years that is to- say, its light is four . years in reaching us, although, traveling at 186,000 miles a second. This estimate places It 252,000 times as far away as the sun. WHAT SYMPATHY OUT OF PLACE The Only Way to Offer Help in Soma Instances Is to Buy a Pie. "Out West, a few years ago, while journeying around with a friend of mine, I overheard a conversation which goes to show that sympathy is ?ften misplaced," said the roving man, "and the moral is riot by any means a bad .one. The quick way in which the man turned on his friend, who had offered hin an abundance of sympathy, so far as sympathy can be extended by mere words, was very, amusing and showed that the fellow we.s quick-witted anjd unusually bright, despite the fact that he had fallen info a rather rough road. "The young man had been out West for some time. He had gone out there with the idea that he could win a for tune, but instead of finding the way to success a smooth one, it was rather rough and rocky, marred by thorns to prick the feet, pitfalls and all that kind of thing. Put in plain, unpoetic language he was run down at the heel and bagging at the knee. "In order to make a living he had been forced to become a pie merchant on a small scale. He was in this business when we found him, and had a small mov able stand on the corner of two streets in a well known mining town. My friend recognized him at a glance, and rushed up to greet him. The fel 1ow seemed to be just a little embar i assed' and my friend thought it would to the, proper thing to do to offer a little sympathy.; 'Sorry to see you situated as you are, old fellow, and in this business,' said. my friend feelingly. " 'D your sympathy. . Buy a pie,' was the quick rejoinder of the vender, and in a few moments we had left him shrieking oiit his wares, to men who passed that way. 'At least he convinced my friend that there are moments in a man's life when the mere sympathy of the mouth, . no matter how earnest or how fety.ent. the words, can not meet the requirements of the case, and that the real and only way to offer help in such instances is to buy a pie." SOOD'-' COOKING AND CONTENT. Chicago Physician Has Never Failing .Recipe Fcr Happy Hemes. By a system of evolution which Dr. W. S. Christopher explained to mem bers of the Children's Hospital So yety in Fullerton Hall, Art Institute, lie would rub out the divorce evil of the country with, ordinary soap and plain wate-. "I have found upon investigation," fie said, "that poor cooking is respon sible for many unhappy marriages. My own observatios is that the food Is good, enough, but the matter of pre paring it is at fault. A man doesn't quarrel with his wife after a good din ner, and he isn't likely to begin find ing fault with her the moment he comes from his office if she had a sup per ready. "But the trouble is that too many housewives are slovenly. They 'throw food at one, as a friend of mine who lives in a boarding hous3 says. They take no pains to make the dishes 16ok" tempting. They may keep the par lor clean, but the kitchen is x not at place one cares to visit. The dirty kitchen is responsible for poorly, pre pared f pod.- ' "I believe that if there were betted provisions for Chicago's ailing chil dren, divorces would decrease. The child who is ill would be taken to the hospital,' where 6rder and cleanliness ire above everything else Let the' child learn the pleasures of a daily bath, and it will , soon learn to keep everything clean and in order. Teach agirl who has that idea, and she will make a good cook. Make good cooks and the divorce docket wil' dwindle into nothing." Chicago Inter-Ocean The bachelor generally has the cour age of his convictions, but the mar ried 'man is expected ; to have the courage of his wife's. OLD-TIME FAVORITE. LONG AGO. T ' . By Eugene Field. I once knew, all the birds that came .And nestled in our orchard trees; For every flower I had a name My friends were woodchucks, toads and bees; knew where thrived in yonder glen . What plants would soothe a stone bruised toe Oh, I was very learned then But that was verytlong ago. I knew the spot upon the hill Where oheckerberries could be found; I knew the rashes near the mill, Where .pickerel Jay that- wei-rhed a pound! , " ; . I knew the wood the very tree Where lived the poaching, saucy crow, And all the woods and crows knew me But that was very long ago. - And, pining for the joys of youth, I tread th old familiar spot, Only to learn the solemn truth; I have forgotten, am forgot. x et here's this youngster at my knee Knows all the things I used to know; To think I once was wise as he But that was very long ago. I know it's folly to complain Of whatsoe'er the fates decree; Yet, were not wishes all in vain. I ted. you what my wish should be; I d wish to be a boy again, BacK with the friends I used to knbw; For I was, oh! so happy then But that was very long ago. ABIGAIL SILOVER'S VISITORS. to to to 3 By Hattie E. Brigrs. HERE is nothing I dislike I an r -pi any more, my daughter, than to go away from the ace to-day and leave vou ana the children alone," said Farmer Silover, of he disposed of his powder flask, and took down his rifle from the side of the kitchen wall. "Oh! never mind us, daddy," said Abigail, cheerfully. "Of course it will be lonesome with you and mother both gone, but we'll be safe enough. Don't worry one bit about us." "I am not so sure about it being safe," replied her father. "The In dians are none too friendly nowadays, and they are getting more restless each' week. Even old Nakomis, who has always been on good, terms with the settlers, avoided me a clay or tAvo ago when I went across the clearing, and I'm afraid it all means trouble to the whites." "But, father," went on Abigail. "Mr. Grey and all the other neighbors have been so kind when you needed help that you can't stay away to-day when Ihey are to finish putting up the house with this day's work. You know I'm on pretty good terms with our red neighbors. Why,-" she added, laugh ingly, "I can even talk a little In dian." "Not enough to save you, if ihcre was an uprising, I fear," answered the father. "However, it is a comfort to me that you 'can handle your gun. And in case anything happens, fire it four times and we will be sure to hear it, as the air is very clear, and the distance so short, through the woods. That is one good thing about our set tlement," he added, "the houses are not far apart and we are a protection to one another, if trouble arises." "Now, daddy," laughed Abigail, "stop looking for trouble, I havesovmuch to do to-day. Yrou will be home before I'm half ready for you, and now, sir," she said, looking atv him 'narrowly, "what do you suppose we are going to have for supper to-night? I'll give you one guess. You can't? Then I'll tell. Mush!" she cried with a merry peal of laughter. "You just forget that we have, had that treat every evening for the past seven months, and imagine we are back East, having all kinds of good things." "Good-bye, daughter, don't let the children go outside and play," admon ished the father, his heart filled with forebodings, as ho left his log cabin and started toward the unfinished home of his neighbor, a quarter of a mile distant through the forest. Jonathan Silover, in company with p. 'small party of Easterners, their wives and children, had come into the wil tlemess of Michigan seven months be fore this, in the hope of founding homes in what vsras then the furthest, point of the known West. After months of hardship and toil, the last house was to.be finished on this day, and on the morrow corn was to be planted in the small patches which these brave nieu bad been able to dear. "Now, children," said the older sister, after watching the father well cut of sight, "if -yon see an Indian coming to day, I want yon both to hide as fast as your feet will take you. If I see them first," she went on, with her arms about the small brother, "I'll rap on the five-place three times, and then you are to get out of sight -as soon as possible. Don't go out of doors once, for we must stay close together al day." And with a few more in structions, she was soon aiout her work, trying to forget theBangers of hostile Indians. The day wore on, and-w hen the sun indicated that the time pas drawing on for, the father to return, Abigail got out the kettles, hung .them on the - . ' t ' - crane and put on the water to heat for the mush. The appearance 'of that article on the table usually called forth some laughing remark from the East- . ern-bred girl, who was making a brave effort "to be happy in a wilderness. Just as the; water commenced to bub ble, three sharp blows were struck upon the hearth, and at the same in stant the little frightened forms dropped into the hole under the floor. which was reserved for times of such peril, and the loose plank was quietly put into place. The next moment a tall Indian, whose quick eye onlysaw a young, girl quietly dropping hand fula of yellow meal into the, boiling water, appeared at the dcor. A nod was ex changed between the girl and the chief ts in, whose entrance was followed by another and another, until six In dians stood in the room, each with painted face -and decked in the trap pings of war. The silence was un broken for several minutdes, save for the steady movements of the iron spoon, which was grasped in Abigail's quivering fingers. At length Nakomis. who had hitherto held himself friendly toward the whites, advanced a step and said in a heavy, guttural tone. "Wrhite man home? Nakomis would have speech Avith him." Nakomis spoke a little English, and " had taught Abigail the few Indian words she knew. "My father," replied the young girl, looking the brave straight in the face, "is not far off. He will be here in a moment. What do you want with him?" "No tell little white face," returned s the man, leering at her, "she 'fraid. She big coward. White man coward. White man go," and he , added wick edly, "I kill him. Injun get all white man's scalp," and going toward the girl, with his cruel eyes upon her face, he laid one hand on his tomahawk and stretched the other toward her. With a wild cry, born of the despera tion of the moment, Abigail Silover raised the spoon filled with boiling -mush, and as the Indian almost had her in his grasp, she dashed it full into his face. As he turned with a howl of rage and pain, she grabbed an iron dipper from its nail at the side of the hearth, filled it with the porridge and flung it at the red.man's neck and head as he fled through the door. The other Indians attempted to stop the now in furiated girl, who knew she was fight ing for her life, but as each turned toward her he received the scalding mush full in his eyes, and in a 'few seconds the last one of the six left the door of the cabin, smarting with pain and rage, the contents of the kettle be ing about evenly distributed over the bodies of the half dozen -Chippewas. Later on one was known to have died from the results of his burns. When Jonathan Silover returned to his home, accompanied by' his neigh bors, in response to the four shots from the rifle, Abigail .was lifting her little brothers out of their places of safety, and as she sank limply into her fath er's arms, she said with an attempt at her old gaiety, "Daddy, we can't have any mush for supper," This incident happened twenty miles from where Detroit now is; and by the spot where the Silover cabin then stood, an electric car sweeps ' through the country.-Detroit Free Press. . Old Ironsides a T?o3on , I!oaf . How entirely the Constitution, finished 'in 1707, was a home-made ves sel, and therein-a typical product, Mr. H. A. Hill has pointed cut in his mon ograph on Boston commerce: "Paul Revere furnished the copper, bolts and spikes, drawn from malleable cop per by a process tk?n new, and Eplu-.'iim Thayer, who bad a shop at the South End, made the gun carriages for the frigate. Her L-ai.'s were ocde in the Granary building at the corner of Park and Tremcnc streets. No other building in Boston yr.s largv.' enough for the purpose. There were then fourteen rope-walks in Uoston, s: that there could be no difficulty in ob taining cordage, and there was an in corpoiated company for the manufac ture x)f sail cloth, whose factory was on the cornsr of Tremont and Boyls5--ton street, and which was encouraged by a bounty on its product from the. General Court. This product had in creased to SO.OOO or 00,000 yards per annum, and is said to have competed successfully with the duck brought from abroad. The anchors came from Hanover in Plymouth County, and a portion of the timber used in what was then looked upon as a mammoth ves sel 'was taken from the woods of AI Icnstown. on the borders of the MerrU mac. fifty miles away. Atlantic Monthly. Jfoxv the Cabinet OlBc-r Sit. The order in Which the memhers of President Roosevelt's Cabinet sit around the Cabinet table, says a Wash ington correspondent, is simply the crystallization of a practice which has been followed so- long that nobody ven tures to question it. The Cabinet table is arranged thus: President. S:c. of Stale. Sec. of "War. Postmaster Gen. Sec. of Treasury. Attorney Gen. Sec. of Navy. Sec.of Agriculture ec, of Interior. Sec. of Commerce and Labor.