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VOL. III.
OXFORD, N. C., WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 7, 1877.
NO. 45.
AUTUMN.
Sliortor and shorter now the twilip:ht cl’ps
The days, as through il e sanset gates they
crowd,
And Summer from her golden ccdhir sl'ps,
And strays throogli stubhie fields and
moans aloud,
Save when by fits the warmer air deceives,
And, St oaring hopeful to some shelteied bow-
She lies on pillows of the yellow leaves,
And tries the old tunes ove-- for an hour.
The wind, whose tender whisper in the May,
Set all the young blooms listening through
the grove,
Sits rustling in the faded boughs to-day,
And makes his cold and unsuccessful love.
The rose h.as taken off her lire of reu—
The mullein stalk its yel'ow stars have lost.
And the proud meadow pink hangs down her
head
Against earth’s ch.tlly bosom, witched with
frost.
The robin that was busy al! the June,
llefore the sun had kissed the topmost bough
Catehing our hearts up in his golden .one,
lias given place to the brown cricket now
The very cock crows lonesomeiy at morn—
Each flag and fern the shiinking strea.-u di'
vides—
Uneasy cattle low, and lambs foilov.!.
Creep to tbeir strawy sheds widi no.tlei
sides.
Shut up the door; who loves me must lot loot
Upon the withered world,hut haste to iwi y
His lighted candle, and his story book.
And live witli mo the poetry of Sp'hg.
Sekeied.
appkeciation.
In the common or genernlsense,
how rare is this gift! “A finely
appreciated nature!” one somo-
timos bears, spoken of with tliat
emphasis and in that tone, that
immediately the mind pictures a
being superior to those who form
the crowd through which a path
is cleared, to press forward in
life’s daily run—a being whose
tangible presence we do not stop
to paint, but whoso mind mid
heart, with all their subtle refine
ments and sensibilities, resolve
themselves into an atmosphere—
if it may be so expressed—that to
us becomes tlie actual: which,
unseen, we honor, admire, love.
If it weie given to man to pos
sess to an extent far greater than
now is, fhat rare quality ih.at feels,
intuitively; comprehends, when
unexplained ; in short, simply ap
preciates circumstance and char
acter, the couise of this world
would run more smoothly' than
the wise heads say it does: for
half the social and' domestic dis
turbances arise, not trom any de
sire to have them—as bolh charily
and common sense assert to the
contrary—but from a general
misunderstanding of the disposi
tion and tastes of those with wliom
we associate. Starting together
at the day’break of Hie, alas ! how
often does it appear at eventide,
that we have journeyed through
'the long hours side by side, seem
ingly one, but verily' as widely'
separated in common sympathy
and true knowledge of the inner
self, with its myriad lacings of
tender tliought and feeling, as
those points in the horizon, where
the King of Day arose and passed
to rest. And how many a right
eous deed has utterly failed of
accomplishing its object, or worse,
been misconstrued into that which
was mean and selfish, from a to-
tal absence of appreciation of the
fine, noble motive which actuated
it.
In that sermon of sermons that
lies as an engraved tablet on ev
ery human heart, is the warning
—“ G-ive not that which is holy
unto the dogs, neither cast y'e
your pearls before swine, lest
they trample them under their
feet, and turn again and rend
you.” Who has not felt the wis
dom of this forcible admonition
some day in life ! Derliaps it was
in that terrible financial crisis,
wlien you had struggled hard and
long and faitlifully to maintain
your ground in honor, hut being
pushed to tlie uttermost, tlie
tempter whispered in your ear an
easy way of escape, and you, at
first scorning the thought of re
sorting to unlawful means, yet
palsied with fear at the steadily-
approaching doom,became crazed,
then dulled, and stretching forth
your hand, accepted the enemy’s
offer! No sooner v/as the deed
accomplished, than conscience
aroused from her slumbers, and
you, in terror, sought counsel
from one whom both heart and
judgment approved as worthy';
laying all before liim, struggle,
tall, remorse, with the frank trust
fulness of a noble nature instantly
repentant of the wrong to which
a saint had been liable. And that
being, whom you chose apart
from all on earth, to seek in the
hour of your extremity, (an act
which ever bespeaks a volume of
confidence and affection,) shut up
his “ bowels of compassion,” and
like a thunderbolt, fell upon your
ears his refusal of the aid you
awaited, lest justice be defrauded
of her right! Law was appeased,
and your sky blackened for life.
Your pearl of trust had been cast,
and your heart rent in twain !
Or it. may have been in that
season of disappointed ambitious
hopes, when your pen, or your
voice, or your brush, whose skill
vou had dreamed would charm
the world, brought hack, instead
of the clear trumpet-sound of
praise, only the critics’ chilling
blasts, that well-nigh crushed
your spirit. It was nothing to
the passing crowd, but to you it
was light or darlciiess ! It seemed
that it would lessen the burden to
tell it all to that human friend, of
whose ready' sympathy you felt
assured, and y'ou were not de
ceived, for it vvas freely given.
But, by-and-by, seeing you
still depressed, and not apprecia
ting that strange nature that is
really' more content in walking
under a lonely shadow, than in
the careless sunlight, he tempted
you forth for diversion, chatted
gaily on themes less than unin
teresting, and now and then man
aged to hit the one sore subject
from afar, with a dart of wit or
satire. It was well intended,
deeming it would euro your wound
to “ make light of it.” But you
felt a sting that you did not avow ;
slowly crept within yourself again,
and closed the door of confidenoe
forever. In the Autumu when
she passed away, she in whom
centred the light of your life, all
that your fancy could picture of
the “ majesty of loveliness,” the
earth suddenly passed under a
cloud from which it seemed it
would never emerge, and living
was a strange effort which y'Ou
had never been conscious of be
fore. You strove faithfully to be
brave and cheerful and bear the
grief alone, and you laid the pre
cious memories in your silent
heart, and went on with the toil
ing :—for it was all toil then, even
the singing that you did, just for
the others’ sakes, that they might
be liappy in thinking you were.
So the days wore on, you did not
spetik of her, nor weep as you
did at first, so the}' tliought you
had forgotten, and dared—as they
would not once—to call her name
as carelessly as if she had been
upstairs; to"^ date life’s common
events from the time of her de
parture ; to rectill her little ways
and sayings to amuse tliose who
loved her not—because they knew
her not. You were of one liouse-
hold, so the pearls of your sorrow
might not be hid from view, and,
alas ! for the rending caused by
these steppings on your heart’s
grave.
But, ye true, noble, but keenly
sensitive souls, who meet these
rebuffs, feel these stings, and oft-
times are sickened with the sense
of isolation that follows—be char
itable, for there is less intention
to wound than you at the moment
suppose; ignorance may bo mis
taken lor malice, dullness for
meanness. To be misunderstood
is a constant pain, but the capac
ity for appreciating the finest
qualities of the Imman heart and
mind, is a gift God has not be
stowed on all of His creatures.
Let those who have this subtle
fibre, be grateful, for it is a rich
pos.session, and to those less fa
vored, show a broad compassion.
They understand only their own,
while you are at home with all—
the greater embracing the lesser.
A pilgrim upon the mountain sees
not alone the landscape of the
summit, but that of the plain be
low ; while he in the valley is
denied the beauty of the height.
And vet there must be those to
traverse both hill and vale—and
it is well.—i’. M., in Pinckney's
School Gazette.
(the swallows grand mother); as
usual, you are up first, the first
to say good morning, the first to
hail the beautiful coining day.
Ah, there you are, whistling, m .•
lovely quail, you beautiful cock
I aded glory; and now my m.c'-:-
i.ig-bird, you brown rascal with
a flat nose, where do you get all
your voices 1 Heigh, ho, you are
up, Mr. Jacob (wood-pecker), up
to see if Mrs. Jacob is not steal
ing acorns this morning, you old
miser of Hie woods, with your
black and white clothes and your
thrift, which is worse than a CIH-
naman’s; and now my morning
dove has commenced liis daily
drone, growling because break
fast is not ready, I suppose. .At
last you have wakened up Mrs.
Lark; a nice bird you are to claim
to be an early riser, but you hear
a cherry voice, nevertheless.
There comes a curlew’s cry from
the river’s shore, and now you
are all awake and singing, you
noisy chatterers; and, finall}', old
night raiding owl, you are saying
‘Goodnight’, this morning, you
burglar of the woods.” 'With such
talk he went on for half an hour;
and many a time since have we
wondered if by himself, in the
great hills and'^beneath the great
pines, with his books and dogs for
company, and with him the cho
rus of innumerable birds for liis
daily entertainment—whether af
ter all, he was not as happy as
though among men he was strug
gling for money or for fame.—
Virginia (Nev.) Enterprise.
heaven, for I love you, my
brother.”
“ And I you ; be of good cheer,
brother, we are never far apart
on earth, and sliall bo forever to
gether in heaven.”
And the Angels of Life and
Death kissed each other as they
])assed on their way.—Leisure
Hours.
fflOUNINe CAUUOF THE JlIEflS.
We once went to .look at a
quartz mine in Tuolumne (Oimty
Cal. We were the guest of a man
who had followed mining in that
county, and who had lived in the
same cabin for more thn twenty
years. He was his own cook, and
generally had no company except
his books, his dogs and the birds
in the neighborhood. He had a
little garden where he raised his
vegetables, and where he had
flowers enoiigli to supply a first-
class wedding or funeral. To meet
the stage at Tuttletown, a couple
of miles distant, it was necessary
to get up at 3 A. M. While go
ing over the trail, between the
cabin and the hamlet, the miracle
of the dawn was performed. It
was a June morning, and we
commenced the joiiniey the foli
age of the hills was all dark and
the stars above were bright as
diamonds. But in a little while
some warm rays began to bend
over the hills from the east, the
green and the scarlet of the hills
began to take color, and the far-
off stars grew less bright in their
stately processions. And then the
mountains commenced to grow
resonant with the voices which
they held, and which awakened
to hail the approaching day.
Then our sententious companion
as though kindled by the same
influence, opened his lip. He vvas
answering the call of the birds,
and his words ran something like
this; “Chirp,‘chirp, 0 my martini
ECCENTUIC PKEACIIEVG.
He is the great preacher who
makes his audience see and feel
the truth about which he dis
courses. Judged by this rule,
Billy Dawson, an eccentric Eng
lish preacher, deserves to be rank
ed high among the most effective
pulpit orators;
O'! one occasion he was preach
ing about Noah’s ark. He was
boxed up in a pulpit, and as he
warmed to his subject he found
he had no room to suit his actions
to his words and feelings, so he
said, “ This won’t do.”
So he opened the door anl
came down to the foot of the
building, and, as if he had been
THE TWO ANGELS.
Two angels passed through the
streets of a sleeping city side by
side, their arms lovingly entwin
ed. One had a shining light
about his head which lit up his
radiant countenance; the other
seemed to have a veil over his
face, so thin that it was like a
mist, yet thick enough to make
his face a mystery.
“ Brotlier,” said the angel with
the veiled countenance, “ brother,
it is long since we met, how fares
it with you ?”
“ All is well with me, hut your
actually at work on the building
of the ark, he began to lay about
him, cutting down trees and saw
ing up planks, and then began
hammering away until he had
made the ark, and then warning
the people that the flood was
coming, he entreated them to
come into the ark.
He next lighted a fire, took an
imaginary caldron of pitch, and,
to complete the work, pitched it
thoroughly all over, and then
ascended the pulpit, banged the
door to, and then looked at his
audience, said, in a solemn voice :
“ And the Lord shut him in !”
The people seemed positively
alarmed, while Billy Dawson
went on shouting: “ It’s too late
now! It’s too late now: the
flood’s come and you are all lost!”
And then basing his discourse on
the scene, he preached the Savior
and His salvation with earnest-
nes.s.
voice has a sigh in it, what grieves
SCHAPS OF AVISDOM.
you, brother 1”
“ Only this, that wherever I
go, there is a sound of weeping.
Mothers wail when I fold their
little ones in my arms—children
weep when their mother rests her
weary head on my bosom—sis
ters mourn when I release their
brother from pain. If I might
unveil my face, do you think they
would fear me so much f
As he spoke he raised the veil,
■evealing a face wonderfully like
Ins fellow-angel, but a pensive
expression instead of a joyous one.
A tender smile beamed from
his companion’s face.
“ Azrael, no twin brothers were
ever more alike than we are.
Hereafter we shall not be known
one from the other, but the Mas
ter wills that you shall be a mys
tery so long as we walk this earth.”
“ Sliall we be alike when our
task is done I”
“ There shall be no more death.
Yet angels cannot die. A little
patience, dear Azrael.”
“ And I shall be like you 1”
said Azrael, musingly ; “ then I
am content to be unknown whUe
on earth, if I shall be like you in ,
A man of gladness seldom falls
into madness.
All is but lip wisdom that needs
experience.
For that thou caiist do thyself,
rely not on another.
lie that will not be counselled
cannot be helped.
He that leaves certainty, and
sticks to chance, when fools pipe,
he may dance.
The brains of a fox will he of
little service if you play with the
paw of a lion.
It is a miserable sight to see a
poor man proud, and a rich man
avaricious.
The more women look in their
mirrors, the less they look to their
houses.
Gentility without ability, is
worse than plain beggary.
It is ill to bring out of the flesh
what is bred in the bone.
—The following is a true copy
of a sign upon an academy for
teaching in one of the Western
States: “Freeman and Huggs,
School Teachers. Freeman teach
es the boys, and Huggs the girls.”
—An Irish agricultural journal
says that potatoes should ne boil
ed in cold water.
"PM*