The American Missionary — Volume 44, No. 10, October, 1890

by Various

Temperance In Tennessee.

This is certainly a very interesting field, not going backward but forward. The temperance reform has made a clean sweep of the whole village, and in union with the Woman's Christian Temperance Union at the station is fast pushing the saloons to the wall. The most striking feature of the case is that they have learned how to work in the absence of their leader. Two weeks ago last Sabbath night they held their own meeting—a Bible reading institution among themselves, by the way, at which many were present—and the old revival spirit broke out afresh to such a degree that the last of their friends, to the number of eighteen, who still clung to their cups, made haste to sign the pledge of total abstinence.

Items.

Letter From A Graduate Of Straight University.

There was an examination held in this city recently for clerkships at Washington. The announcement of it in the newspapers and the certainty of the successful applicants receiving appointments drew a large number of young men to the examination, among whom were Tulane University graduates and several principals of high schools. I had the honor of sustaining the reputation of "Old Straight," by leading the list. The affair created much local excitement and the name of Straight University is commanding much respect. I am pleased at the prospect of the increased opportunities a residence at Washington will afford me for the prosecution of my medical studies.

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Fisk University is well represented in the journalistic world, says the Tennessee Star. The following graduates are pushing the quill: S.A. McElwee and W.A. Crosthwait, editors of the Nashville Tribune; H.C Gray, editor of the Galveston Test; R.S. Holloway, associate editor of the Dallas Tribune, and Geo. T. Robinson, editor of the Star.

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We print this letter from a boy who wants to go to school. We give it just as he wrote it, and hope to have the privilege of printing a letter from him five years hence with a view to the contrast.

Augst 25th.

Mr. Proseser D.:

Der ser i hav bin in form of the —— coldge and is it quite a distant and i thout i would rite you afew lines i want you to write to me how i can get Bord and what it will cost me a week or a munth and what is tuisson I want to noe before i come and i want to start in a short time rite to me all about it i will ickspeck anser soon, and Adress me.

When I start in I want to goe 2 sesson's before I stop i think can conplet most of inlesh studys in that time.

Does The Lord Understand His Business?

Rev. J.H.H. Sengstacke.

THEN.

All through the early spring I heard complaints as follows: "The season is against us and we shall not make anything." "Unless a change we must starve." The season paid no attention to complaints but kept right on.

Now.

To-day God has blessed all with a good crop; plenty to eat and plenty to sell. What next? The grumbling still continues. "There is so much that we cannot get a high price for our produce."

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If "resemble" means like, as one of the girls found when consulting the dictionary, why is it not proper to say as she did, "I 'resemble' very much to be at home?"

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Letters From Very Little Pupils.

My dear teacher:—I would like to have grace and truth before God, and I hope I am now his little girl.—LUCY.

Dear teacher:—I want religion.—ARTELIA.

My dear teacher:—If I had my choice of anything I wanted, I would choose a Christian life, so when I came to die I would die in Jesus, like Daisy Holt died.—ROXY.

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Pictures In The Pines.

Prof. Amos W. Farnham.

In the Sunny South, in the Land of Pines,

Is a whitewashed cottage, old and grand;

Its ample grounds of jessamine vines,

Are bright with crystals of sparkling sand.

Broad stairways lead to its airy hall

And cool piazzas, where the sun

His shining arrows ne'er lets fall

Till his daily race is almost run.

Within are walls of panels high,

And great fire-places that laugh at night,

When the blazing splinters of lightwood fry

And wrap the rooms in a flood of light.

'Tis then the cabins in the rear,

Low and little and plain and old,

Are vocal with the Negro'a cheer,

For his heart is light when the day is told.

But there's one who sits from the rest apart,

With folded hands and turbaned head,

With a nameless burden upon her heart,

And the light of youth forever fled.

And she sits a swaying to and fro,

Like the billowy pine with plume and cone,

While a minor strain subdued and slow,

She sings in a plaintive monotone:

("I'm mos' don' a trablin' an' I boun'

To carry my sould to Jesus

I'm mos' don' a trablin' an' I boun'

To carry my sould to de Lord.")

Then 'neath the whitewashed cottage vines,

From its window that looks on the dying day,

I gaze at the pictures in the pines,

Made by their plumes and cones of gray.

'Mong the leafy pictures is a crown,

Bedecked with a brightly shining star,

By angel hands held out and down

From the western gate that stands ajar.

My crown is bright when the year is new,

Nor changes, when its frosts appear:

For the star still shines in its ground of blue,

And the pine tree lives when the rest are sere.

From the pine my thoughts ascend above

To the Tree of LIfe that Heaven adorns;

From the star to the Star of my Saviour's Love,

That grandly shone in a crown of thorns.

Oh, Star of Love, thy beams shall guide

Me through the shadows of earth and sin,

Till Heaven's gate shall open wide

To let thy weary follower in.

I note the onward march of time

By the Negro's songs and the lightwood's glare,

And know I'm nearing the happy clime

And the starry crown that I shall wear.