HOME AND YOUNG FOLKS,
For the Central Presbyterian.
The Presbyterian Cot.
My Dear Children,—It has been a
long time since I have had a little
chat with you. Sorrow and bereave
ment, such as I hope you may never
know, made my heart too heavy to
burden you with its sad notes; but
as I try bravely to remember that
God has given me the great priv
ilege of having one more re
deemed soul around his throne,
whose mother I am, I will try to
hush the sadness of my song and
tell you of other things. But just
here, perhaps I have told you before,
for it is a favorite thought of mine,
this past year has made me feel more
than ever that our Saviour in all
his teachings to us inculcates no duty
more plainly or more forcibly than
caring for the sick. And so as I
looked back to-night through the
record book that tells of all the
sweet little letters and nice sums of
money, often earned by self-denial
and hard work that you have been
sending me all these years, I felt so
thankful in knowing that there
were scattered all over our country
so many little Christians trying to
serve their Master. I was tempted,
at first, to tell of some Sunday
schools and some societies that
have sent such large sums and of
others who have never faltered, but
every month, in every year, since
1884, have never failed to send in
their offering, but this might dis
hearten some others who are newer
recruits, or who cannot send so
much; and perhaps no offering ever
touched me more tenderly than a
child’s letter written in large let
ters, ill-formed and with only 30
cents enclosed, but with the sweet
accompanying words: “Dear Mrs.
Smith, I send thirty cents, all I have.
I wish it was more, but I am an
orphan myself.” So I hope no one
will feel it is less God’s work be
cause they cannot send a larger
sum.
For some time your Cot was empty.
This gave us a chance to make it
fresh and clean, and also to let the
Endowment Fund catch up a little;
and we have in bank to day $1,724.
But during the summer a lady very
much interested in your work, found
near her summer home a little girl
name Mary who was not only a great
sufferer, but whose parents were too
poor to give her any of the comforts
that are so essential to our sick ones.
The doctors discouraged our taking
her, and thought she could never
get well, but one of our best physi
cians hopes a great deal from kind
nursing and nourishing food, and
has undertaken the case to see what
he can do for her. Her back is sad
ly humped. So many of her home
people are deaf and dumb that she
is just beginning to talk sweetly, is
developing rapidly both in mind
and body, and loves to tell, of her
mother and her mother’s cow; and
as she talks her great big brown
eyes glisten like stars. So it is
plainly our duty to try and do all
we can for her and to leave it in
His hands who knows so much bet
ter than we do, what is best for Us all,
whether she is to get well or only to
have the tender care the good food
and other ministrations to make her
life brighter while it lasts.
So I think now that you know she
is on your Cot you will be glad to
feel that you are helping to nurse
her. In many letters I am asked
what is best to send. Remember it
is “the love of money that is the
root of all evil”—the money itself is
very necessary, for while we pay no
doctor’s bills we pay $12.50 for
board, $1 for washing and medicines
make another bill every month, and
then we can buy just what hap
pens to be needed at the time—if we
have money in hand to do it.
So I hope our old friends among
the children, and new ones, too, will
begin to realize what a blessing it is
not only to be well and strong them
selves, but to be able to help those
who are not.
Please address your letters to me at
912 E. Leigh Street, Richmond, Va.
Lovingly your friend,
M. S. Smith.
Circumstantial Evidence.
The pear tree stood by the kitch
en window and was just six feet
high. Jack had measured it on the
first day of the month ever since it
had been planted, and he was never
an inch out of the way when he told
its height. The fact is it was his
own tree, and he had a right to
watch its growth and lavish un
usual care upon it. Last summer
it had borne two pears, which a hail
storm had destroyed, and of the six
teen that had promised fair this
season but six remained on the tree.
Jack watched the lucious fruit
with as much anxiety as a mother
bestows upon her baby. His
grandfather had given the young
tree to him on his eighth birthday
and he intended to celebrate the
dear old man’s seventieth mile-stone
in life by carrying him the delici
ous pears that now hung so tempt
ingly on the tree.
One bright September morning as
he stood feasting his eyes upon
the great yellow pears, his father
said with a smile, “Take a good
look, my boy, for to-morrow will be
the clay to pick them.”
“Grandfather’s birthday will not
be ’round till Thursday,” answered
Jack.
“But the pears should be picked a
day or two before,” said his father.
Jack dreamed of the beauties that
night,and as soon as the sun was up
he sprang out of bed and went to
his window to get a glimpse of the
golden fruit gleaming through the
glossy leaves. The dew upon the
leaves was shining as usual, but uo
pears were visible. He rubbed his
eyes to be sure he was awake and
looked again, but no pears were
there. There had been a storm in
the night, and Jack’s next thought
was that the pears had been beaten
off, and down stairs he went, two
steps at a time, to search among the
grass for his treasure. He looked'
everywhere, but no pears could be
found.
“Dorcas,” he called to the cook,
“do you know what has become of
my pears?”
Dorcas came out of the kitchen,
dish cloth in hand, certain that she
had not heard Jack’s words aright.
“Ye don’t mean to tell me, Massa
Jack, dat yer pears has been took.”
“They are all gone, Docas, and
they could not walk off themselves,
so somebody must have taken them.”
“Seems mighty strange,” admitted
Dorcas, as she went back to her
cooking.
“I believe Fred Colby took them,”
he said to himself after Dorcas had
gone. “I saw him looking wish
fully at them yesterday while he
was talking to father.”
Walking slowly across the grass
plot, he noticed foot prints on the
walk where the previous night’s rain
had left the ground soft and moist.
“Here’s a clew to the theft cer
tainly,” said Jack, following the
footsteps with as much eagerness
aS an Indian follows the trail of an
enemy.
Although Jack had fastened the
crime on Fred Colby, he was sur
prised when the footprints actually
led to the fence that separated Mr.
Colby’s lot from their own.
“What have you lost, Jack?” in
quired his mother from the sitting
room window.
“My pears; they have vanished
entirely.”
“Why, that is very strange, indeed.
The storm must have blown them
off. Did you look carefully among
the grass?”
“I have been searching for them
everywhere, but it was a useless
search, for they have been stolen.
I found the tracks, and they lead
directly to Mr. Colby’s fence.”
“Do not jump at conclusions.
You may be mistaken,” said his
mother.
“I am not mistaken, mother.
The tracks are there to show for
themselves; besides, if anything
was wanting to prove my words I
found these leaves right by the fence,
and they are pear leaves. Just
judge for yourself,” passing the
leaves to her.
“What’s up now?” asked Fred
Colby, as Jack still continued his
search.
“Somebody stole my pears last
night. The tracks are not hard to
trace,” answered Jack, reaching
through an opening in the palings
for a few leaves which he said be
longed to his pear tree.
“You might as well accuse me of
the theft,” said Fred, turning very
white.
“I think the evidence points that
way. Just come over and examine
the foot prints for yourself.”
“You will pay for this insult, my
boy. I never touched your pears,
and it is my opinion you have been
sampling them yourself,” retorted
Fred.
There is no knowing how much
longer the jangling would have con
tinued had not Dorcas rang the bell
for breakfast.
Just after Jack and his mother
had taken their places at the table,
Dr. Norris came in from seeing a
patient, and joined them.
He listened gravely while Jack
repeated the story of the missing
pears.
“Am I not clever in working up a
case, father?” asked the boy with
considerable pride.
“You have made a very good stag
ger if you can bring evidence to
prove your statement,” answered
his father. “Are you certain that you
are on the right track, my boy?”
“I was never more sure of any
thing in my life,” answered Jack.
“Many aninnocentpersonhas been
condemned upon circumstantial evi
dence, but I do not intend that
Fred Colby shall suffer for my crime.
It was I who took the pears, Jack-.
What about your chain of evidence
now?”
“You, father? How came you to
take them?” asked Jack in astonish
ment.
“As you know, I was called away
during the night. T^e wind was
blowing then, and as I passed your
tree I saw one of the pears lying on
the ground. I saw, too, that a storm
wTas approaching, and to save your
pears from being tossed about and
bruised, I took them off. The steps
that you thought belonged to Fred
were made by me whil- searching
for my knife, which I thought I had
lost somewhere among the grass.”
Then rising from the table, the doc
tor opened the door of a small press
and from its upper shelf took down
a basket containing the pears.
“How I wish I had known of this
sooner,” said Jack. “Now I must
go and ask Fred to forgive me. If
I could only learn to be less rash I
would save myself a great deal of
trouble.”
“And other people as well,” said
his father. Don’t you suppose that
Fred was hurt when you charged
him with being a thief?”
“He surely must have felt it; but
I will try to make things satisfac
tory,” and Jack ran across the yard
to apologize for the wrong he had
done his friend. Fred forgave him
freely, and after that Jack never
made any positive statements unless
he was able to prove them. From
experience he had learned that it
was never safe to depend upon cir
cumstances alone.—Chris. Inquirer.
Burdett’s Message to Boys.
My boy, the first thing you want
to learn—if you haven’t learned
how to do it already—is to tell the
truth. The pure, sweet, refreshing,
wholesome truth. The plain, un
varnished, simple, every-day, man
ly truth, with a little l‘t.”
For one thing, it will save you so
much trouble. Ob, heaps of trouble.
And no end of hard work. And a
terrible strain upon your memory.
Sometimes—and when I say some
times, I mean a great many times
—it is hard to tell the truth the
first time. But when you have told
it, there is an end of it. You have
won the victory; the fight is over.
Next time you tell that truth you
can tell it without thinking. Your
memory may be faulty, but you tell
your story without a single lash
from the stinging whip of that stern
old task master—Conscience. You
don’t have to stop and remember
how you told it yesterday. You
don’t get half through with it and
then stop with the awful sense upon
you that you are not telling it as
you did the other time, and can not
remember just how you did tell it
then. You won’t have to look
around to see who is there before
you begin telling it.- And you won’t
have to invent a lot of new lies to
reinforce the old one. A££er Anan
ias told a lie, his wife had to tell
another just like it. You see if you
tell lies, you are apt to get your
whole family into trouble. Lies
always travel along in gangs with
their co-equals.
v And then, it is foolish for you to
lie. You cannot pass a lie off for
the truth, any more than you can get
counterfeit money into circulation.
The leaden dollar is always detected
before it goes very far. When you
tell a lie it is known. Yes, you say,
“God knows it.” That’s right; but
he is not the only one. So far as
God’s knowledge of it is concerned,
the liar doesn't care very much.
He doesn’t worry himself about
what God knows—if he did,
he wouldn’t be a liar; but it does
worry a man, or boy, who tells lies
to think that everybody else knows
it. The other boys know it; your
teacher knows it; people wrho hear
you tell “whoppers,” know it; your
mother knows it, but she won’t say
so. And all the people who know
it, and don’t say anything about it
to you, talk about it to each other,
and—dear! dearl the things they
say about a boy who is given to tell
ing big stories! If he could only
hear them, it would make him stick
to the truth like flour to a miller.
And, finally, if you tell the truth
always, I don’t see how you are go
ing to get very far out of the right
way. And how people do trust a
truthful boy. We never worry
about him when he is out of our
sight. -We never say, “I wonder
where he is! I wish I knew what
he is doing! I wonder who he is
with! I wonder why he doesn’t
come home!” Nothing of the sort.
We know he is all right, and that
when he comes home we will know
all about it, and get it straight.
We don’t have to ask him where he
is going and how long he will be
gone every time he goes out of the
house. We don’t have to call him.
back and make him “solemnly

promise” the same thing over and
over two or three times. When he
says “Yes, I will,” or “No, J won’t,”
just once, that settles it.
How Jimmy was Cured.
Jimmy was the stingest boy y u
ever knew. Hecouldn’t beartogive
away a cent, nor a bite of an apple,
nor a crumb of candy. He couldn’t
even bear to lend his sled or hoop
or his skates. All his friends were
very sorry he wras so stingy, and
talked to him about it; but he
couldn’t see any reason why he
should give away what he wanted
himself.
“If I didn’t want it,” he would
say, “p’r’aps I would give it away;
but why should I give it away when
I want it myself?”
“Because it is nice to be generous,”
said his mother, “and think about
the happiness of other people. It
makes you feel happier and better
yourself. If you give your sled to
little ragged Johnnie, who never had
one in his life, you will feel a thou
sand times better watching his en
joyment of it than if you had kept
it yourself.”
“Well,” said Jimmy, “I’ll try it.”
The sled was sent off. “How soon
shall I feel better?” he asked, by
and by. “I don’t feel as well as I
did when I had the sled. Are you
sure I shall fell better?”
“Certainly,” answered his mother,
“but'if you should keep on giving
something away you would feel bet
ter all the sooner.”
Then he gave away a kite, and
thought he did not feel quiet as well
as before. He gave away a silver
piece he meant to spend for taffy.
Then he said:
“I don’t like this giving away
things; it doesn’t agree with me.
I like being stingy better.”
Just then ragged Johnny came up
the street dragging the sled, looking
proud as a prince, and asking all
the boys to take a slide with him.
Jimmy began to smile as he watch
ed him and said:
“You might give Johnny my old
overcoat: he’s Tittler than I am and
he doesn’t seem to have one. I
think—I guess—I know I am be
ginning to feel so much better. I’ll
give away something else.” And
Jimmy has been feeling better ever
since.—Our Little Ones.
Russell Sage to Boys.
The boy who is wanted in the
business world of to-day must be
educated, says Russell Sage in an
admirable article'on “The Boy That
Is Wanted,” in the November Ladies'
Home Journal. If his parents can
not afford to give him a high-school
or college education, he must learn
to study without the aid of a teach
er, in the early morning before busi
ness begins, and in the evenings
after business hours. It can no
longer be truthfully said than an
education is out of any one’s reach.
Our splendid school system, where
one can study by day or in the even
ing, has put the priceless treasure
of and education within the reach
of all. The main thing, in the be
gining, that 1 would impress upon
boys is one of the great command
ments, “Honor thy father and thy
mother, that thy days may be long
in the land which the Lord thy God
giveth thee.” The boy who respects
his father and mother, who treats
his sisters and brothers with loving
kindness, has laid a good founda
tion for a successful career. You
will do as your parents tell you,
and that certainly will be to study.
Don’t be in a hurry to get away
from your school books. The cares
and responsibilities of business life
will come soon enough. Go to
school as long as you can, and, re
member, every hour spent in study
in your youth will be worth money
to you in after life. Read good
books—the Bible above all. Make
yourself acquainted with history.
Study the progress of nations and
the careers of men who have made
nations great. If you have no libra
ry of your own join one of the nu
merous associations to be found in
all cities, where good, healthful
books may be obtained. Study re
ligion, science, statecraft, and his
tory. Learn to read intelligently,
so that you may turn to practical
use in after life the readings of
your youth. Be sure you begin
right.. Do not waste time in read
ing trashy books.
Which is Worse?
A little girl came to her mother
with the question, “Which is worse,
to tell a lie or to steal?”
The mother, taken by surprise,
replied that they were both so bad
that she could not say which was
the worst.
“Well,” said the little one, “I’ve
been thinking a good deal about it,
and I think it is worse to lie than
to steal. If you steal a thing you
can take it hack, unless you have
eaten it, and, if you have eaten it, I
you can pay for it. But,” and
there was a look of awe in the child
face, “a lie is forever.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS.
Acknowledgments to Presbyterian Cot
in the Retreat for the Sick, Richmond,Va.,
from June 15th to November 1st, 1891.
Maude T. Dinwiddie, Raleigh, N. C., 50
Thankoffering from Mrs. C. P. Svden
stricker for Master Pinckney Sy
denstricker, on his 11th birthday, as
a small expression of thankfulness
to God for having spared him all
these years in sound health, without
sickness or other accident, Lewis
burg, W. Va., 5 00
By the Juveniles of Sabbath school at
Pt. Pleasant, W. Ya., sent by Mol
lie B. Jones, 10 00
Burns, Herman, Nettie and Mary Huy
ett, Charlestown, W. Va., 4 00
Mrs. Dutton’s and Miss Mary Reimin
ger’sS.S. class, Charlestown,W.Va., 5 00
Mrs. B. J. Farrar, birthday memorial
of a dearnepliew, Central Plains,Va., 1 00
Mrs. W. S. Pettis, Oxford, Miss., 1 00
Members of Bethlehem Sunday-school,
Old Church, Hanover county, Va.,
viz: John and Frank Beale, 70c.;
Rosa Miles, 12c.; Clarence and Drew
ry Miles, 25c.; Carrie Davis, 46c;
Perry Davis, 16c.; Harry Tomlin,
25c.; Nannie and Maggie Tomlin,
50c.; Herman Pease, 25c.; a teacher,
31c., 3 00
A small class of little girls in the
Wheatland Sunday-School-, hy hard
work and self-denial, have earned
$5 for the Cot, sent through Miss
Minnie M. Ellis, Buckingham coun
ty, Va., 5 00
Infant Class of Second Presbyterian
church, Richmond, Va., for twelve
months, viz: December, 1890, 55c.;
January, 1891, $1.57; Feb’y, $1.86;
March, $1.72; April, $1.78; May,
$2.14; June, $1.58; July, 47c.; Aug.,
$1; September, 75c.; October, $1.30;
November, $1.52; through Mrs. M.
M. Gilliam, treasurer, 16 16
Also through Mrs. G., from Miss M.
Carter, Goochland county, Va., 50
Total, $51 16
All donations should he addressed to
Mrs. M. S. Smith, 912 E. Leigh street, Rich
mond, Ya.
Cure for Stammering.—Draw a
long breath so as to fill the lungs to
their utmost extent. Divide the
sentence you wish to speak into
syllables, marking time for each
syllable by bringing the index fin
ger and thumb of the right hand
together; or marking time with the
foot. Now, here is a specimen:
‘Pass-me-the-bread. Good-morning
masdame-how-do-you feel this
morning? Those syllable exercises
must be practiced for at least
one month; then a cure should be
accomplished if the patient has no
deformity of the throat or larynx,
and if the front teeth are sound.
There is nothing easier than this
cure; it is simply to speak in sylla
bles for one month, and is within
the reach of everybody—man, wo
man or child.
—In Australia the government
owns the railroads. It only costs a
person $6.50 to ride 1000 miles there.
Commutation rates for local service
are still lower. A workman can ride
to and from his work, a distance of
six miles, for two cents a trip; twelve
miles for four cents; twenty-four
miles for eight cents; thirty miles
ten cents. Yearly tickets, good for
thirty mile trips, are sold for $17.
40.

The best of men need to be warned
against the worst of sins.
CATARRH
Is a complaint so common that compar
atively few people are entirely free from it,
so insidious that it gains a firm hold al
most before its victims are aware of its
presence, so dangerous as to seriously
threaten the general health, and liable to
develop into bronchitis or
Consumption.
It is a mistake to consider Catarrh merely
a local trouble. It is unquestionably a dis
ease of the blood, and therefore the right
way to cure Catarrh is to remove from the
blood the impurities which cause and feed
it. This is to be done by taking Hood’s
Sarsaparilla, the great blood purifier,
which effectually expels all traces of poi
son and germs of disease.
Stuffed-up Feeling
“For years I have been troubled with
that terrible disease, Catarrh. I took
Hood’s Sarsaparilla with the yery best re
sults. It cured me of that continual drop
ping in my throat, and stuffed-up feeling.”
Mrs. S. D. Heath, Putnam, Conn.
“Hood’s Sarsaparilla cured me of Ca
tarrh, and built up my general health, so
that I am feeling better than for years.
Hood’s Sarsaparilla
Is the only medicine I know of which will
cure miller’s catarrh.” Geo. Foster, Lo
gan, Ohio. N. B. Be sure to get Hood’s.
ja 28—ly
A (ll’MTQ WANTED for The History of
nunlilO Christianity, by Abbott. A
grand chance. A $4 book at the popular
price of $1.75. Liberal terms. The reli
gious papers mention it as one of the few
great religious works of the world. Great
er success never known by agents. Terms
free. Canvassers wanted for our splendid
albums. Write to-dav. Stinson Co.,
Publishers, Portland, Maine. a7-ly
The finest quality of Bells forChurch«L
Chimes,Schools,etc. Fully warranted*
Write for Catalogue and Prices
BUCKEYE BELL FOUNDRY,
Tie VAN DOZEN TIFT CO., CmciMtt.1
je3—ly
l WORTH A GUINEA A BOX.*’!

Not Drunk J
Just dizzy! There is a pres-
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a clogging of the system.
■el
C
PiLLS
will remove the obstruction ri
and permits the vital funt-
tions to act naturally. They cure S
&Slc!t Headache, and all Bilious an.l*
Nervous Disorders,arising from Weak f
Stomach* Indigestion, Constipation
[and Disordered Liver.
Of all druggists. Price 25 cents a box.
New York Depot, 365 Canal St. 3:'
THOMAS NOWLAN. ROBERT E. MACOMBER
NOWLAN 00.,
No. 921, Next to Corner of Main axi
Tentii Street (Above Post Office,)
RICHMOND, VA.
DIAMONDS,
PINE WATCHED
DIAMOND, ENGAGEMENT
AND
PLAIN GOLD WEDDING RINGS
AND
RICH BRIDAL PRESENTS.
Special attention given to the Repairing
of Fine Watches and Jewelry.
Masonic, College, School, and Socien
MEDALS and BADGES made in the besl
manner of style, quality, and workmanship
au7—ly
QHESAPEAKE
OHIO RAILWAY
COMPANY
SCHEDULE IN EFFECT NOV. 3, 1891.
LEAVE RICHMOND.
8:40 A. M. Daily for Old Point and Nor
folk. Pullman Sleeping-Car
Hinton to Old Point.
11:05 A. M. Express daily for Cincinnati
Pullman Sleeper Old Point tJ
Hinton, connecting with Pull
man Sleeping Car for Cincin
nati.
3:30 P. M. Express, daily for Old Point
and Norfolk. Pullman Sleep
Ing-Car Cincinnati to O. Point.
4:30 P. M. Accommodation, except Sun1
day, for Gordonsville Orange
10:30 P. M. The F. F. V., Limited, daily
Pullman Sleeping-Car Old Point
to Cincinnati, attached at Gor
donsville to solid vestibule
train, with Dining-Car anil
Pullman to Cincinnati am
Pullman to Louisville; connects
at Covington, Virginia, forllo,
Spring.
TRAINS ARRIVE AT RICHMOND.
8:30 A. M. and 3:55 P. M. daily from Cin
cinnati.
7:30 P. M. daily, except Sunday,from Hin
ton.
10:55 A. M. and 6:55 P. M. daily from Nor
folk.
Station: Broad St., near Seventeenth.
JAMES-RIVER DIVISION.
(Richmond Alleghany Railroad.)
LEAVE RICHMOND.
9:00 A. M. daily for Lynchburg, Natural
Bridge, Lexington, Craig City
(except Sunday), and Clifton
Forge.
Parlor (Chair) Car Richmond to
Clifton Forge, daily (except
Sunday).
4:30 P»M. except Sunday for Lynchburg
connecting with a train leaving
Lynchburg at 6 A. M. daily for
Natural Bridge, Lexington,
Craig City (except Sunday
and Clifton Forge. Sleeping
Car to Lynchburg.
TRAINS ARRIVE AT RICHMOND.
6:30 P. M. daily from Clifton Forge.
8:30 A. M. except Sunday from Clifton
Forge.
Station: Eighth and Canal streets.
For further information apply to A. TV
Garber’s office, 901 east Main street, the
Chesapeake Ohio Railway Company’
stations, Chesapeake Ohio General office.
Eighth and Main. JOHN D. POTTS,
Division Passenger Agent.
DIRECTORY
OF THE
PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH
_ IN THE
UNITED STATES.
PUBLICATION.
Rev. James K. Hazen, D. D.^Secretary
and Treasurer, Richmond,Va.
FOREIGN MISSIONS.
Rev. M. II. Houston, D. D., Secretary
Nashville, Tenn.
Rev. D. C. Rankin, Treasurer, box 324,
Nashville, Tenn.
HOME MISSIONS.
(Including Sustentation, Church Ere«
tion, Evangelistic, Invalid, and Colore*
Evangelistic Funds.)
.Rev. J. N. Craig, D. D., Secretary, anti
W. A. Powell, Treasurer, P. O. Drawer B
Atlanta Ga.
EDUCATION.
Rev. E. M. Richardson, Secretary, Meu>
phis, Tenn.
G. W. Macrae, Esq., Treasurer, Memphis
Tenn.
EDUCATION of COLORED MINISTRY
Rev. C. A. Stillman, D. D., Secretary
Tuskaloosa, Ala.
W. A. Powell, Treasurer, Atlanta, Ga.
ANNUAL COLLECTIONS.
Sustentation—First Sunday in January
and August.
Publication—First Sunday in March.
Foreign Missions—First Sunday in May
and October.
Invalid Fund—First Sunday in July.
Evangelistic Fund—First Sunday in Jttne
and September.
Education—First Sunday in April
November.
Church Erection—First Sunday in Fe“
rnary.
Theological Institute for Colored Me8'
First Sunday in December.