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THE ORPHANS’ ERIENU.
Wcjlsiusdiay, Octoljci’E-1, iS70.
BOYS’ km GIRLS’ DEPARTMEi^T.
From the Coinuunion.
JKlNiMLE AN» JBELLE.
I heard the inupic of ])rattliiis:j
Coniiug on through the grass ;
I leaned, and looked, arid listened. ^
As to songs that softly pass.
For up tlirough the narrow footpath,
Bordered with clovers sweet,
And daisies reaching to cliildish arms,
Came the sound of little feet.
The grass heads all in hlossoin
Scarce bent beneath the tread,
But they rustled against the dinner pails
Gayly painted, blue and red.
The smallest ot day-school lassies,
Before the school-hiy hours,
Each with one hand iu a sister’s clasped,
And the other full of flowers.
l^auscd at my open doorway,
With timorous, winsome air;
What but kisses were welcome meet
For little maids so fair V
They lavished on me their treasures
Of the wayside and the woods ;
A buttercup, and a daisy bloom,
And a stalk of inullieu buds,
A panicle of the elder;
Two lillies red and tall;
A honeysuckle honey sweet;
And a wild rose, queen of all.
The blossoms were crushed and wilted,
In the moist, warm fingers pressed ;
But never so fair was unpiucked flower
As either dear little guest.
The school-hour called to lessons.
And the darlings might not stay ;
But the little ones wore a poem sweet
That sang iu uiy heart all day.
E. L. E.
From the Youth's Companion.
THE EITTLE SCAMP.
“ Tlie little scamp !” exclaimed
a roug-h man, grinning from ear
to ear, as the pun}’, ragged, blue
lipped, red-eyed bo}- went out of
the car, after lie had disposed of
a yesterday’s newspaper instead
of a fresh one.
Of course everybody laughed
at the “ cuteness ” of the child.
“ Must ’a’ been born a Yankee,”
said one of the passengers, “ and
emigrated South when he was
young.”
That caused a general laugh
again, for the boy was scarcely
higher than j’our knee, and could
not have been more than six
years old.
“ I should like to box his ears,’
said the victim, though he said it
good-naturedly. ‘‘ That boy is
hound to grow up a villain.”
I thought of my own bo}’, and
what would be the consequences
if he were sent out upon the street.
What of your boy, put upon a
bread and water regimen, given
blows for breakfast, kicks lor
dinner, and a double allowance of
both for teal Further, send him
to sleep in musty straw, sliglitly
damjied by a three month’s at
mosphere iu a wet cellar, have
him taught systematically to lie,
swear, steal and drink, what would
your promising child be, I won
der I
Ami this thought made me pity
the little scamp,—makes me pity
all little scamijs,—made me hope
that ho was put up to the trick
by some older boy, for the child
had a sweet, innocent face, for all
lii.s rags and dirt.
Someway the thought of the
child haunted me. All through
my sliopping expedition, I won
dered how it would have seemed
if 1 had been buying clothes for
liim. Every well-dressed and
mannered little fellow suggested
the poor ragged little scamp, who
had so deliberately cheated.
It proved a wet day, so that
when through niv errands, I lelt
chilly, disagreeable, almost cros.s,
and looked forward to the bright
lire at home, and the brighter
eyes of mv own four-year-old.
'Seated in tlie cars again, with
bundles piled belore me, and an
empty purse in mv hand, I
thought of the evening paper.
There was a penny in my pocket,
and I searched for it, though the
image of the little scamp had al
most faded from mv mind.
Curiously enough, the man
who had been cheated sat oppo
site me, and liis look told that he
remembeted me as having seen
the occurrence of the morning.
“ Ero’s your evening Cricket!”
chirped a small voice, and in
came the same small child, dirtier,
raggeder, hoai'ser than ever. He
looked cautiously about him, and
saw my penny extended.
“Is it to-night’s I” I asked,
smiling in spite of myself, for lie
liad just caught sight of the man
lie hatl cheated, and his face was
a study. He wanted a pemiv and
lie did not dare to come forward.
“I recollect you, 5-011 5’oung
scamp,” said ra\' vis-a-vis, and the
bov adroitly caught 1115' nenii}’,
dropped the Critic at me- feet, and
turned as if a policeiium was after
him. He had come in tit the front
of the car; ho essat’ed to leave
that wav.
All at once there was a scream,
a strange motion of the car, a cry
from several voices at once, and
then tlie car stood still.
So did my lieart. I seemed to
feel what had happened, and grew
so deathlv sick that I feared 1
might faint. The poor little blue
eyes, the tangled haii, the dirt}’,
dimpled fingers, the muddy knees,
sticking out of tlie holes, the little
feet hobbling in great clattering
shoes!
“What’s the matter?” asked
everybody; and my opposite
neighbor got out, with a sad look
on his kind I'aco.
“ I’m afraid somebody is hurt,”
said the ladv next to me, and then
there was a moment’s silence.
Presently the man wlio had gone
out came in. 'i'liere was some
thing in his arms, which liad a
garment thrown over it, and whicli
never moved.
“ It’.-i him, ma’am,” was .all he
said, “'J’ho hospital is riglit on
the way, and I’m going to take
him tliere, the poor little lad !”
It was not the little scamp now.
God’s hand had touched liim. He
was hui't, dying, perhaps, and the
miserable little life had all sud
denly become a sacred thing.
“ Is he much hni-t, do you
think I” I asked, shuddering.
“ So much that he’ll never cry
the papers again,” was the an
swer.
“ Do you know anything about
him I” I asked, not trying to stop
the tears that were coursing down
my face.
“ Not a thing. I suppose to
morrow, the mother, if he’s got
any, or his friends, will learn from
tlie papers and liis absence what
lias become of him. It’s very sad.
He was a nice-looking little fel-
loiv,—^just the age of one of mv
own.”
The dav following I went to
tlie hospital. -Beside the bed sat
a decrejiid old woman, oh, so old
and wistful and poor, bowed clow'ii
with grief.
The little scamp had a sheet
drawn over him fioni his head to
his feet. He was never to erv or
sillier or cheat any more ; lie had
died oil the wa}^, .and his feet and
his bauds were at rest foi ever. I
could hardly repress a erv of as-
tonishiiieiit as I uncovered his
face. Ah me! how beautiful it
was ! Could it be possible !
“ xVh’rr, Johnny was .a good
bov! Johmiy was a good boy!”
crooned the old creature, working
lier skinny fingers. “ What’ll 1
do now I The last of ’eui’s gone !”
I had no heart to inquire into
the boy’s history. It was ended
now. Kindness nor cruelty could
110 longer reach him. He had
gone to O.VK who pities those who
walk ill liiii'd ways with a dark
ened iiiiderstaudiiig, and who may
call others to account that the
little one’s wavs were so hard and
his understanding so dark.
Tint
A little bov about five years of
age was a guest, with his mother,
at the house of a geiitleinan of
intellectual culture and highly-
polished manners. It ivas pro
phesied of the child that he would
make a brilliant man. Ho was a
marvel of precooit}-; but the
faults ill his character were but
too manifest. He was selfish, and
evidently deficient in filial love
and reverence.
The ge.itleman had observed
these characteristics, and in order
to teach him a lesson, he one day,
at tiie table, related to him some
facts ill regard to the natural
history of the stork. He told
him that the young hirdhiigs
were taught by tlie parent birds
to seek die water; and tliat when
t'loy grew strong, and the parent
bird became, from advancing age,
t )0 weak to lly to any distant
point, one of the young would
take the parent upon its back
and fly as far as it was able.
'Ihieii another ot tlie family group
would receive it; and so on, di
viding the effort among them all,
until they reached the water and
refreshed themselves , thus per
forming for the parent that which
the parent had done for them iu
iiifanc}'.
To the surprise of all present,
the boy—-so }-ouiig as not to bo
able to pronounce words perfect-
h’—Hashed with anger. His
eyes dilated, and he evidently ap
plied the story to himself, as if
quite conscious of his selfishness
and want of filial reverence.
“Well,” he said, “if you think
that I am going’ to take my papa
and mamma on my back to carry
them, you are mistaken.”
“What!” exclaimed the gentle
man, in astoiiishiiieiit. “Suppose
that your mother could not reach
the water, and would die for the
want of it, what would you do I”
“I would let her die,” said tlie
boy.
The mother laughed at this an
swer of her son, and regarded it
as a specimen of his quickness
and precocity, but there were
those at that table who did not
smile, who felt that the future ut
the boy could he easily foreseen
and that the mother’s heart
would one day bleed over those
qualities which now, in the bud,
excited her merriment.
And so it iiroved. The boy
grew to manhood. The germs of
selfishness, vice and wickedness
inherent in his nature matured
with his years, and expanded to
the full flower. The parents’
hearts were broken and bleeding
at every pore ; and now he sleeps
in a Jriiiikard’s grave !”—N. Y.
Observer.
THE SEVEi\ WISE 3IEi\.
The seven -wise men are sup
posed to have lived in the fifth
century before Christ. Their
names are Pittacus, Bins, Solon,
'rii.alos, Chiloii,. Oleobulus and
Perlaiuler. The reason of their
being called “wise” is given
differently by authors, but the
most approved accounts state that
as some Goans were fisliing cer
tain strangers from Miletus
boiiglit wh.'itevc-r should be in the
nets without seeing it. When
the nets were drawn in they were
found to contain a golden tripod
whiok Helen, as she sailed from
Troy, is supposed to have thrown
there.—-A dispute arose between
the fishermen and the strangers
as to wliom it belonged, and as
they could not agree, they took
it to the Temple of Apollo, and
consulted the priestess a^ to what
should be done with it. She s.aid
it must be given to the wisest
m-an in Greece, and it was ac
cording!}' sent to Thales, who
declared that Bias was wiser, and
sent it to him. Bias sent it to
another one, and so on, untii it
liiid passed through the hands ol
all the men, atterward distinguish
ed by the title of tlie “Seven
Wise Mon,” and as each one
claimed that some one was wiser
than he, it finally was sent to the
Temple of Apollo, where it after
ward reniaiiied, to teach that the
wisest are the most distrustful ol
their wisdom. In New Orleans
and other cities, especially of the
South, there are numerous so
cieties which go by the name cf
“I'lie Seven Wise Men.” Some
of them are very large, the one
in New Orleans, having several
brandies, which in the aggregate,
foot iu a membership of nian\-
thousands.
TJIET SAY.
“They say,” often tells that
which is not true. He is about
the worst authority }-ou can pro
duce to support the credibility of
your statement.
Scarcely ever is a suspicious
report put ill circulation, but this
Mr. “I'liey say,” is the author ol
it; and detection is impossible be
cause, living nowhere lie cannot
bo found.
Who said that Mr. , tie
iiierchaiit, was in failing conuiticn.
Why “They say” .so.
Is it a fact that Miss V., is nol
so circuiiispect as she should be f
Why “1 hoy say” so.
Have nothing to do with M'.
“They say.” Ho is a half bro
ther to Mrs. Nobody, who alwa , s
does all the mischiel, and lives
nowhere but in the inventive ol
those who undeserving respect
themselves, are desirous to pull
others down to their level.
We always suspect the truth
of a report whicli comes from the
authority of “They say.”
THE EEfilSEATEKE AYI> TEIE
OKPHAStS.
Correspondents so often a.sk
wliat the Legislature has done for
the orphans, that we find it neces
sary to keep a standing answer to
the inquiry. The Constitution ot
North Carolina says :
‘There shall also, as soon as
liracticable, bo measures devised
by the State for the establisdiment
of one or more Orphan Houses,
where destitute orphans may be
cared for, educated and taught
some business or trade.’
Every uiember of the Legisla
ture, before taking- liis seat, sol-
eimily swears, “tha: he will sup
port tlie Constitution and laws of
the United States, and the Consti
tution of the State of North Caro
lina. and will faithfully discharge
his duty as a member of the Sen
ate. or House of Representatives.”
Both political parties have been
iu power since the present Con
stitution was adopted, and the
only ajipi’opriatioii made to the
orphan work ivas- the gift of the
crape used at the funeral of Gov-
enor Caldwell. 10-tf.
TME
Orphans’ Friend.
A LIVE AMD LIVELY WEEKLY!
0]iGA2^^ OF THE OEPHAN WO.RK
ErJTERTAmiKG AND IN-
STSUCTIYE TO TEE YOUNG.
A ZEALOUS FBIFXD AXD ADVOCATE
OF FBUCATIOX
PUBLISHED EXEliY WEDNESDAY.
SOBSCRiPTION AND POSTAGE
OAEY ONE £>OLEA« A YEAR
BUILBIXG, AT OXFORD.
-0-
AHVERTISEMEXTS.
Ten cents a line for one insertion. Five
;;ents a line each week for more than one ami
h'ss than twelve insertions. One colinnn,
three mouths, sixty doilar.^. Half column,
three months, forty dollars, piarter culinnn,
tl'iree months, twenty dollars.
Pj-esent cdrculatioii, fourteen luiiulred and
forty papers eacli week. •
Add>j'-ss
ORPHANS’ FRIEND,
OXFOIW. N. a
T. B. LYoN, Jll. 11. DABBY. E. 11. LYOit
(Late of ^‘Falbi/ Puff.''')
LYON, DALBY & CO.,
M.tXUFACTUEEliS OF
THE "ABCMA
DURHAM " PUFF,"
KINS
TOflACC®.
IS. A. MHAMS & €«>.,
MAXUFAU'rURF.RS OF
REAMS’ DURHAM BOOT AND
SHOE POLISH,
OFFICE IN TIIE OEPHAN
Durham, N. C.
Orders solicited—A,e:ents wanted—Tohacco
guaninteed
March 17th—
Wari'anted to ex.cel all others, or mone^
Eefuncled.
Tlie only Blacking that ivill polish on oiled
surface. It is guaranteed to prescn’c leather
and make it pliant, requiring less quantity and
time to produce a perfect gloss than any other,
the brusli to he applied immediately after put
ting on the Blacking. A perfect gloss froin
this will not soil even wliite chithes. We
guarantee it as representel, and as for i)at-
ronage, strictly on its merits.
II. A. BEAMS aV CO., Manufacturers,
Durham, N.
This Blacking is- recommended iu the high
est terms, after" trial, hv Geo. F. Brown, J.
Howard Warner, New York; '.he Pre.skleul
and Professors of Wake Forest Uollege ; and
a large tiumhcr id gonlii-men i-n and around
Dui'hajn, aa’Iioso certilicates liave been I’ur-
uis-liei]' the Mannfa'cturers.
Orders solicited and promptly filled.
Marcli 3rd, Id/o. Lf-lf