The Canadian Crescent. (Canadian, Tex.), Vol. 1, No. 24, Ed. 1 Thursday, April 12, 1888 Page: 3 of 8
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THE CANADIAN CRESCENT.
■ •
-TBEEMAar E. MII1I1EK, Editor k Pnb'r.
PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY AT
CANADIAN. - TEXAS.
AN OLD-TIME PEDAGOGUE.
'^lowly, adown the village street.
With growing cane unci faltering feet,
.Heroes each duy, through cold or heat—
Old Duddy Hicks.
me hair is scant upon his head,
ilis eyes are dim, his nose is red,
And yet his mien is stern and dread,
Old Daddy Hick3.
The village lads his form descry
While yet afar, and boldly cry,
iFor bears are scarce, and rods are high):
4'Old Daddy Hicks."
Rut when their fathers meet his glance,
They nod and smile, and Wok askance;
He taught them once the Modoc dance—
Old Daddy Hieks.
.Hov; long we cl'ng to servitude;
How long we keep the school-boy's mood;
Still seems with awful power endued
Old Daddy Hicks.
They feel a cringing of the knee,
Those fathers yet, whe«e'er they see
Adown the walk p:*ce solemnly
Old Daddy £Lcks.
Wide is his fame, of how he taught,
.And how he flogged, and reckoned naught
The toils and pains that knowledge bought—
Old Daddy Hicks.
He had no lack of "ways and means"
To track the loiterer on the greens;
•He scorned all counterfeits and screens-
Old Daddy Hicks.
Oh, dire the day that brewed mishap
That brought to luckless back his strap,
To hanging head his dunce s cap-
Old Daddy Hicks.
No blotted page dared meet his eye,
Its owner quaked, and wished to die,
When, rod in hand, in wrath strode by
Old Daddy Hicks.
He helped them up the thorny steep
Of Wisdom's path with pain to creep,
With vigilance that might not sleep—
Old Da idy Hicks.
Ñow, down his l.ie's long, slow decline,
He walks alone, at eighty-nine,
* The last of his illustrious line—
Old Daddy H cks.
—Albion Mary Fellows, in Indianapolis Journal.
A Brother's Keeper.
IÜ0MFS WORK OF LOYE AND DUTY.
BY XIAEY HAETWELL CATHEITWOOD,
Author op "Craque o* Doom," "Stephen
Guthrie," ''The lone Man's
Cabin," and Other Stories.
CojPjrinhled, 1837, by ths A. N. Kellogg Newspa-
per Company. ]
CHAPTER VI.—Continued.
"What have we to conceal?" said Phccbe.
"Under the circumstances,7' he continued,
growing red as if just grated, "We are
both alone in the world, as it were. And
there are people who would say it is un-
suitable, but I can not agree with them.
Therefore," said McArdle, with a flourish
of his hand, "I apprehended I had better as-
sume that our _ friendship was but a slight
'One."
"I don't know what you are talking
-about," said Phcebe. "If you have heard
things against
me, it
would be k.nder to
.stay away 1"
" I have heard things, Miss Phoebe," ac-
knowledged McArdle, magnanimously. He
placed his hat on the desk and steadied hhn-
self in his position. "From what this—this
brother Thorney of yours has let drop, and
various circumstances, it appears there are
matters which will need explanation betwixt
you and me. But before those matters are
explained," he hastened, silencing her, "I
want to express my views and plans. In
spite of the fact that the church will require
me to make a very circumspect selection,
and also in spite of the fact that I know my
cousin Mrs. Holmes will oppose it, I am de-
termined. I apprehend that you under-
stand?"
"No," said Phcebe, lifting her eyes from a
carved slit in her desk, which some unruly
boy, while sitting there in durance, had
turned into an ink canal. "I don't know
what you mean."
The muscles of McArdle's face expressed
•vexation.
"Then I will explain. I hoped to be more
•cordially met by you, Miss Phcebe. You
surely feel unhappy and unprotected."
"1 can't remember ever feeling other-
wise."
"But more so now than at some previous
date. I offer you my protection. We can
be of mutual assistance. You could still
teach or find some other congenial occupa-
tion, and I could;—assist—: ah—in cultivat-
ing your mind. It would be best for you to
go away from here, no doubt. I should be
.at theological school, and for the present we
would keep the matter quiet."
"What matter quiet?" inquired Phoebe.
"Our—marriage," replied McArdle, wip-
ing his heated face wiUi a handkerchief he
Jiad bought with money borrowed from her.
"Are you asking me to marry you?"
"I apprehended it would scarcely be
* necessary to explain that," he responded,
with asperity.
"But I don't want to marry you."
"Consider what you are saying," im-
pressed McArdle. "I know it may seem a
strange proposition to you just now."
"It does," said Phoebe.
"But I mean it, and will take the risks.
Only prudence seems to dictate," said Mc-
Ardle, going over his ground again, "that
for the present we keep our own counsel."'
"1 wish you'd go away," said Phcebe,
upon which' McArdle stared at her with
startled eyes.
He waited in various uncomfortable atti-
tudes while she put on her shawl and pre-
pared to fasten the door. Then, stepping
out, he picked his way along by her side,
looking at her occasionally with increasing
chagrin and indignation.
"I would like to know what I am to appre-
hend from the last remark you made."
"I don't want you to talk so to me."
"But under the circumstances, surely,
Hiss Phcebe"
"Under any circumstances."
"You mean to convey a refusal."
As McArdle tried to ponder the fact his
.-countenance hardened.
"You'll regret it."
ul regret almost every thing which ever
| happened to me," said Phoebe. "It would
be a new experience if I didn't regret this.
"It's very foolish of you," said McArdle,
pityingly. "Besides, vou are treating me
with great cruelty. You have engaged
my feelings."
"But under the circumstances, you ap-
prehend, it would be better to conceal that
matter," flashed out Phcebe.
McArdle let his lower lip hang pendulous,
while his sense of injury grew.
"I won't go any farther with you," he
said, pausing. "I won't go up to the house
to-night."
"Good-bye, then," said Phoebe.
"You utterly refuse!" meditated Mc-
Ardle. "Who else, do you suppose, will
come out as I have done, waiting for expla-
nations to be made afterwards?"
"You seem to admire your conduct very
much," she said.
He keenly glanced at her.
"You are attached to somebody else. I
feel it. But it can be nobody but Gurley."
"I said good-bye," said Phoebe, standing
taller. There was a thrill of anger in her
voice.
"But one moment," insisted McArdle. He
tOQk out his hanakcrchief and wiped one
eye after the other, holding a fold of it over
his finger point. "When you discard me
you are injuring yourself. Poor child! It
will never profit you any to cherish these
other feelings."
"Why did I never dispise you before!"
exclaimed Phcebe, seeming to expand and
blaze, "bow could I feel a protecting
kindness for you and take pleasure in doing
you what little services I could!"
"I apprehend," he said, stiffly, "that you
allude to the trifling sums I have been
forced by an ungenial fate to borrow from
you."
" No," said Phoebe, relenting. "I never
thought of them. I am a miserable girl, but
princess enough in my feelings to make you
welcome to what you have had. Only don't
speak another word to me to-night." She
turned her back on him and ran toward the
lawn gate.
McArdle stood with his hands in his over-
coat pockets until the air grew dusker
around him.
He walked down hill slowly, knowing
how Phoebe must shrink at the supper ta-
ble, how the constraint would drive her up-
stairs, and how shocked Mrs. Holmes would
be if she knew what he had said to Phoebe.
A variety of stings kept him smarting,
and he occupied so much time in his saun-
tering that it was night before he saw the
lights of Grecnsburg.
Gurley turned his mare's head toward the
hill road as McArdle passed the Mounds.
They exchanged a word, barely distinguish-
ing cach other's faces.
McArdle could picture Gurley's horse
standing by the Holmes hitching-post. But
he could not picture Phoebe looking out at it
from her chamber vVflidow as she did, and
hesitating to answer the caller's demand for
herself.
"Oh, the wonder palace!" whispered
Phoebe to her unresponsive window-sill, her
voice hissing softly through the darkness of
the room. "I must put my head into it for a
minute and imagine things. I must pretend
I am a little happy. In the wonder palace I
have always been a girl like Miss Fawcett,
and a friend has come to call on me, and I
am just trailing down stairs in a long soft
dress to meet hi— the friend. It is sunny
weather, and I have flowers by my waist
and m my hair. And now I am just reach-
ing out my hand." She opened her eyes,
the wonder palace being shattered by a
noise outside. At first it appeared the
friend was riding away, as friends so often
do outside of wonder palaces; but when he
silhouetted himself against the lighter
background she saw it was her brother
Thano White.
Phoebe threw her window up and pene-
trated the distance betwixt them with a low
but distinct call.
He looked over his shoulder and drew
rein. The young mare moved resentfully
and kept describing uneasj- half circles.
"You are not going to do that," said
Phcebe.
"Come down here," he replied, cautiously
beckoning.
"If I leave the window you will gallop oil.
But don't think I'll not tell."
He uttered a derisive hiss.
"I'm open to argument," he replied, "if
you're quick."
Phoebe ran silentlv down the back stair-
%/
way and approached him. He restrained
the plunging animal, and Waning from the
saddle struck a match upon his boot and
held it to his face.
"See that?" he inquired, indicating a
vivid welt across his cheeks and nose.
"That's what your daisy in the house gave
me as he was riding this way. I put my
hand on his bridle and meant to borrow a
little brotherly cash. It's your fault all
'round. I've been out along the road the
last few days and couldn't raise anything.
This horse'11 even things, up."
"I'll call for help," said Phoebe.
"Call, and I'll be out of sight before you
can draw your breath again. This is a
roadster. Tell you what I'll do, though, if
you insist. I'll sell you the horse for a hun-
dred dollars. Thorney says you've got a
hundred dollars hid away. 'Taint safe to
wait, but I'll wait one minute,- while you
bring out the money."
"Thane, it's no use to tell you Thorney
and I are destitute "
"Not a bit. I don't want this horse par-
ticularlv, but I must have him or money.
V t *
You can buy me off cheap this time, and
I'll honestly clear. There's a person in this
neighborhood I don't want to have see me."
"How many times have you honestly
cleared' ?"
"A good many. But I'm telling you clear
truth. It ain't healthy for me here now. So
here's a good horse and the equipments
thrown in going fo* less than half price,
cash in hand. Run and fetch your money
cnce, run and fetch your money twice"—
"I will," said Phoebe, desperately.
"Down to the gate," he stipulated. "I
want a fair start if you're goin' to do any
thing mean."
She ran up-stairs, groped in a bureau
drawer, took out a sealed envelope and held
it up against the window light. Then, set-
ting her teeth she slipped down again.
"Get off," and give me the bridle in my ,
hand," said Phoebe, when Thane reached
from the saddle for tier envelope.
He laughed, but dismounted, looking sus-
piciously toward the house. The sitting-
room curtains muffled their lamp-light, but
Randy's back-kitchen candle flared out on
the wood-pile while she washed dishes asj
soared among the rafters of the tune called
Hebron.
"I keep the bridle myself, my lady," said
Thane, "till the money's counted oui."
Whether Bess at this point utterly rebelled
against him, or whether Phoebe frightened
her, she reared directly over Thane and
flung him by her bridle off his feet. Snort-
ing and neighing she clattered up the
avenue, bringing Gurley out of the house
followed by Tom Holmes, who paused on
the step with Mrs. Holmes in the doorway
behind him.
"Never mind," called back Gurley. "She'll
let me catch her when she gets over her
fright.- Something's frightened her. ''
"Likely story!" exclaimed Tom Holmes.
á
'</
/
/Vic Ao**
snorting and neighing, he clattered up
the road.
"I knew that mare'd have some trick, and
now you see she's unhitched herself. Shall
I come and help you?"
"No," replied Gurley, laughing. "I won't
She's
just
Mrs.
up here in a corner.
Holmes will catch
have you.
Shut the door.
cold."
"You better let me help you," repeated
Tom Holmes, with merry laziness, with-
drawing into the house as he spoke.
"We don't want you rolling about here in
our way," responded Gurley. "Ho, Bess;
come here," he coaxed, walking towards
hij favorite, as the closing door wiped its
tablet of light from the ground.
But as he approached he traced another
figure beside Bess, holding the bridle.
"I have her," said Phoebe.
"You didn't come out for that!" exclaimed
Gurley.
"Here she is. Hold tight to her bridle,
Mr. Gurley."
"Oh, Bess is no runaway. At least, she
wasn't before you put a premium on her
capers. I am obliged to her for bringing
you down-stairs. May be I've been perse-
cuting you with calls lately.
"No!" said Phoebe, earnestly.
"No? Take my arm back to the house,
won't you? There's a harrow or part of an
old wagon-bed wrecked hereabouts, and the
starlight is hardly strong enough for us to
see it. I know the bearings pretty well,
though."
"Mr. Gurley, will you do a,.great, great
service for me?"
"Don't you know I would do anything in
the world for you?"
"But this is so risky, so dangerous, I
ought not to ask it. I want you to take
me to Mr. Barker's. I am afraid to stay
here!"
"Afraid?" said G-urley. There he stopped,
without dwelling even in thought upon the
probable cause.
"You are not afraid of Bess, anyhow," he
observed, with a slight laugh. "Or her
present saddle, either. Will you ride her
and let me lead?"
"Oh, thank you."
"Not at all, I assure you. And I know
you can mount from the hand. That's it.
Are you at all comfortable now?"
"Yes," replied Phoebe. I feel safe al-
ready."
"She must learn to walk, and she hates
it," said Gurley, as they started, Bess giv-
ing an impatient jerk at her rein. I am
made. Psyche
but it is hardlv
having a lady's saddle
Fawcett offered me hers,
modern enough, so I'm having one made
according to my notions. You said you'd
ride with me. But I scarely expectcd we'd
set out this way."
Phoebe laughed.
"But I'm glad she hates to walk. When
you go home, ride fast. There might be
something on the road."
"I did have an adventure below here,"
said Gurley, recollecting. "Some fellow
tried the prank of grabbing my bridle, but
I marked him, and he^fi probably get ex-
cused from chapel for a few days."
"What is that by the gate?" breathed
Phoebe, shrinking toward the horse's neck.
"Nothing but a bush."
"Oh, yes; I remember."
"Our eves will soon be accustomed to the
%/
dark. I don't believe I know the best route
to Barker's. They live off the main road,
don't they?"
"Yes, and if we turn into the woods here
by the school-house there is a sled road
which will lead us."
Into the woods near the school-house th#y
accordingly turned. The night air made a
far-away seolian sound among tree limbs,
and beyond the Hollow, Guy's dogs could be
heard barking at intervals.
Phoebe cowered once or twice again, but
Hie sentinel object ahead of them always
proved to be a stum# sistead of Thane. She
glanced backward, suspecting that he had
followed them; he had disappeared too sc*>n
after Bess overthrew him to be far off. As
Gurley's and Bess' feet trod undisturbed
ahead, however, Phoebe's confidence re-
turned.
"If vou come to harm on mv account,"
she said, "I would not know how to en-
dure it."
"Do vou think these woods are full
%r
of wolves and robbers?" laughed Gurley.
"As long ago as my jacket days they hadn't
even a wildcat to maSe them interesting.
Painter is the only monster tJlat is sup-
posed to haunt them now. Have you any
wrap on! Aren't you cold ?"
"Just a little coid, but I hadn't noticed it
■fyself. I did not stóp for a shawL And
what will they think when they find you are
gone without any overcoat!"
"They'll think I'm chasing Bess toward
her stable," replied Gurley, in amusement.
"It was fortunate I snatched up my bat.
&ere: you must let me wrap this around
your shoulders." He halted Bess.
"What is it?" inquired Phcebe. but the
gleam of his shirt-sleeves was token enough.
"Indeed, I won't take your coat, Mr. Gur-
ley. Indeed, I will not. If you don't put it
on again I'll go back in the dark by myself.
It is not a coid night. I don't shiver because
J am chilly."
"As you please," said Gurley, throwing ft
across his arm and moving on. "It does
smell of cigars. I feel like a grand wood-
chopper stalking along this way."
"It wasn't cigars. You know it wasn't
cigars. 1 want you to put it on, please."
"Here," said Guriey, "is a conflict of
wills. The fine-tempered but firm inelastic
woman's will, and the big brutal man's will.
If he gives way he creates a dangerous pre-
cedent, and in this case makes himself con-
temptible."
"It isn't any conflict," said Phcebe. "I'm
only begging you to do as I want you to."
"That's the artful way in which the wom-
an's will operates," laughed Gurley. "But
I will obey you," he added, with gentle seri-
ousness, "even in this case, because your
slightest wish is going to have a life-long
power over me."
"No," gasped Phoebe, feeling her heart
close its muscles as with a grip.
"Yes. My place is at your bridle rein."
He turned his face up toward her, his eyes
smiling through the dark, and threw the
coat around his shoulders, buttoning it un-
der his chin. "I don't want to be too warm
while you are not wrapped at all, though."
"And that's a man's obedience," said
Phoebe, in a strange voice, which she could
not make playful.
"Yes; his loyal obedience."
They moved forward in silence, save the
sound made by walking. Phcebe felt the
blood beat in every part of her body. The
sheltering woods seemed warmer, having a
spice of odorous barks and the breath of the
first spring flower in the air.
"I never have been on this path before,"
said Gurley. "Have you?"
"No, nevor," bieathed Phcebe. "Oh—
what am I saying! I have been through
these woods often."
"I'd like it," he continued, "if we were
going straight on to Heaven knows where.
Some happy valley, may be. So far as my
interest in the matter is concerned the rest
of creation may go by the board. This is
an unusual ride, isn't it! How keen the
starlight is. Two going down to Egypt to
escape Herod."
"I feel quite safe from Herod," said
Phoebe, rubbing an agitated palm on Bess'
neck, "with you. But there isn't any happy
valley or pleasant end to this ride. It's a very
unhappy valley. And your place is not at
my bridle rein."
"The existing fact disperses that state-
ment."
"But I mean anymore."
"Now is always the beginning of here
after," said Gurley. "I am here now. Let
a stronger man put me out of my place if he
can."
"Listen!" said Phoebe, sitting alert. "And
don't you see somebody coming yonder?"
As they crunched on, feet approaching
them crunched also, and two figures wav-
ered, now together and now apart, as they
picked firmer footing about the roots of
wayside trees.
Gurley drew a deep breath of regret as
he looked up at Phoebe, and she said:
"It's Mr. and Mrs. Barker. I know his
voice."
"W hom have we here?" demanded the
master, as the parties encountered each
other.
"Oh Mr. Barker, I was coming to your
house. And you are going away."
"Yes, but you save us a walk, Miss
Phoebe. We were setting out to see you. Is
this young Gurley? Good evening, sir, good
evening."
"Good evening," responded Gurley, car-
rying his white sleeved hand to his hat in
saluting the master's wife. "It's ilattering
to nave a convoy sent out for us. Miss
Phoebe has been trembling through the
woods, but she ought to feel safe in the heart
of a party like this." ;
"Why, you surely didn't expect to be
molested, child í" said Mrs. Barker, with a
pang of anxiety in her tone.
"I didn't know," hesitated Phcebe.
"Need you go any further now, Mr.
Gurley? I can walk; it's but a step. You
can ride fast through the woods going
back, and watch the dark places along the
road."
"He will proceed with us to the house,"
said Mr. Barker, decided1^.
"Certainly I shall," corroborated Gurley.
"You shouldn't turn me off as a bad es-
cort the moment you can better yourself,
to encounter dark places along the road and
so on."
"You'll want to see the fire," said Mrs.
Barker. "Seems as if neither of vou has
on warm enough things."
"You got my note, did you, Mr. Barker!"
■
¿weA * 2 ¿
a
yes, my place is ax your bridle rein
- iy
inquired Phcebe, as they entered the
cleared space and saw the cabin's bay win-
dow wavering with pleasant firelight.
" / got no note," replied the master,
striding in the lead. His wife walked by
Bess' right side and held the girl's hand in
her woollen shawL
"But I thought that was why you were
coming. I sent you a note and wanted to
see you. It was necessary for me to see
you."
"We heard tales," explained Mrs. Barker,
in a low voice. "And he thought, and I did,
too, we ought to go over and see you."
"Then you were coming anyhow—before
I told you any thing," said Phcebe, bearing
heartily upon Mrs. Barker's hand.
[to be continued. 1
Whoever ma ces a fuss about doing good
does very little; he wLo wishes to be seen
and noticed when he is doing good will not
do it long.
A prominent dealer in sporting goods
says that Mexico buys more pistols than all
the United States*
HOME, FARM AND GARDEN.
— Sponging the body off with salt-
water is good for night sweats.
—A woolen cloth is better than a
brush to polish the kitchen stove.
—A solution of pearl-ash in water-
thrown upon a fire will extinguish it
immediatelv.
—If the meal is fed too dry it will
make the hogs constipated. Hogs
must have plenty of water in their
food. Always mix one-third bran wita
the meal, which should be soaked be-
tween meals.
—Hominy Pudding. —One cup of
boiled hominy, one and one-half pints
of milk, two eggs, two tablespooníu s
of butter, three-fourths of a cup of
sugar, one teaspoon of baking powder;
bake in buttered pudding dish tweuiy
minutes.
—Asparagus Beetle.—This insect i.;;*
caused great damage. Slaked linio
dusted upon the plants when the dew
is on "them in the morning, once a
year, and cutting down the seed stacks
two or three times a year are effective
remedies. —American Garden.
—Creamed Parsnips.—Boil tender,
scrape and slice lengthwise. Put over
the fire with two tablespoons of bar-
ter, pepper and salt, and a lit tit
minced parsley. Shake until tin?
mixture boils. Dish the parsnips, add
to the sauce three tablespoons oí
cream, in which has been stirred a
quarter spoonful of flour. Boil once,
and pour over the parsnips.
—It is claimed for the mutton breeds
of sheep that with the same method *>f
keeping them on the farm as is in u<o
in England land worth as much ns on«*
hundred dollars per acre might be
profitably devoted to sheep, and thru if
farmers would hurdle them inste; <I of
giving them the range of the larra
large profits could be made.
—A Western farmer advises to tie
ears of corn together with husks, i:i
in some place where the grain can b.*
saturated with coal smoke. The odor,
he says, repels squirrels and worms
from eating the seed. The seed com *
up quicker, the plants grow írmrt
vigorously, and ripen several days
earlier than from seed not so treat* d.
—Egg Salad.—Boil six egirs lif'een
minutes. Prepare dressing with t .b -
spoonful of vinegar, half a teaspoon « f
salt, a little pepper, three tablespooi:-
fuls of oil, one tablespoonful of onion-
juice, one of finely chopped pari t y,
and one of taragon vinegar. 8 ce
the hard-boiled eggs, lay ihem on a>
a sal ad-dish, pour the dressing overall I
stand in a cool place two hours.
—It is important that grafts should
becut before warm weather in;s canI
their buds to start. It kept m the cel-
lar, covered with dry sand, air w'.li be
excluded, and they need not be m t un-
til nearly the time for the tree to si art
into leaf. Grape grafts should, how-
ever, be set as early as the weather w.H
admit. If delayed until the sap begins
to run it will drown them out.
STARTLING FIGURES.
What the Commercial Traveler* of Iho
Country Spend IChHi Y«:*i\
A modern knight of the road: 44 !)•>
you know that there are aboir eighty
thousand commercial travelers in ti« *
United States? Surprised to hear:!?
Yes; most people are when thy ar
told of it; but it's a fact never!h '!e is.
You may also be surprised to learn i. t: *
each or.e of them spends on an ave.
age f3,000 a year, or a total of •; 21 >,
000,000.
44 If you add to this their salar as
averaging at the leasu$l,000, yon i.a^e
a total expenditure by eomnierH* /
travelers of §320,000,000 a year, i hi*
is naturally spent in all parts of in *
country; but the hotels and railroad.# .
get the lion's share of it
44 During the last ten years there ha*
been a great change in the eharae;e¡*
ot the commercial traveler. The o d
Bohemian type has almost entirely «lis•
appeared from the road, and drinking
men are much more rarely met witn
there than formerly. The fact of i he
matter is that compet tioa is now so
keen, and expenses have become v.
heavy, that it does not pay a house to
send out as travelers any but the
steadiest and most reliable business
men.
44 On the other hand the traveler's
remuneration is much better than for-
merly, salaries of from $3,000 to 66.000
being by means infrequent.—Jewelers
Weekly.
m •
Very Valuable Papers.
Wife (to second husband, who m
rummaging in a closet — Don't dis-
turb that bundle of letters, John. I
wouldn't have any tiling happen to
them for the world.
Husband (fondly)—Oh, dear, then
yon didn't burn those foolish love let-
ters of mine after all, as you said you
did.
Wife—Yes, John, I burned yours;
ut these letters are from my first hus-
band. —Epoch.
—The Brooklyn Tabernacle, Rev.
Dr. Talmage, pastor, now has the pro-
digious total membership of 4,184
ftouls.
1 •-
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Miller, Freeman E. The Canadian Crescent. (Canadian, Tex.), Vol. 1, No. 24, Ed. 1 Thursday, April 12, 1888, newspaper, April 12, 1888; Canadian, Texas. (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth183556/m1/3/?q=%22Places+-+United+States+-+Texas+-+Hemphill+County%22: accessed July 9, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu; crediting Hemphill County Library.