Orphans’ Friend.
Price, $1 a year.)
OXFORD, N. C.,AUGUST 17,1883.
(VOL. IX. NO 13.
WASHIKaTON AND NAPOLEON.
BY REV. THEBON BROWN.
Brave lines of soldier Frenchmen
Their gayest colois wore,
And all the gazing city
Stood eager on the shore;
Glad music swelled, and brightly
The sunrise flashed upon
Fair ships with streaming pennons,
In the harbor of Toulon.
Three youths from o’er the ocean
Came down that day to glance
At fortune’s latest lion,
^.®The demigod of Fi ance.
“Make haste !” they crowd around
them
With urgent voices warn,
“Napoleon goes to Egypt:
He sailed this very morn !”
What joy to see—to meet him !
His words their hearts have won —
‘‘How fares your country’s hei o,
The mighty Washington?
What loyal ardor thrilled them,
What patriot pride, to tjll
That when they left their country
Great Washington was well.
“Ah, ‘well,’ ” the chieftain answer-
ed;
“He else could never be.
With honor’s fullest measure,
And none so loved as he.
“Founder i.f Freedom’s empire,’
His name still be known
When the whirl of revolutions
Has swallowed up my own.”
Strange man! though high in splen
dour
His iame-ligfat blazed afar,
Belore Napoleon’s vision
There rose a grander star.
In vain his martial praises
That moment ojillions sung
He saw another’s glory
From nobler merit sprung.
His hand five mighty armies
Had crushed in furious fight,
Till Alp and Danube foemao
His eagles fled in flight.
Behind him Lodi’s water
Ran blood, and thousands slain
Had choked Areola’s marshes, •
And heaped Bassano's plain.
But ah, what gain were conquests
Stained with ambition’s blame,
Beside that hero’s virtue
Whose praise ';e could not claim?
And, sad, that praise, immortal
O’er all his fallen pride,
Like Balaam on the mountain,
He saw and prophesied.
No marvel, if admiring.
He felt one jealous thrill
Tosvard him who, gniat in battles.
In peace was greater still;
And wishes, amid his triumphs,
With envy’s own despair
Some lustre of such goodness
His future name might bear.
Proud genius ! Well his foresight;
Did fate fulfilling show.
Still fadeless burns Arcturus
While comets come and go.
And while each year but darkens
The conqueror’s red renown.
The Father of his O .mntry
Still wears the patriot’s crown.
The tenacity of life whicb
marks an eagle, and its power of
endurance, are illustrated by the
following: “A dead African ea
gle was lately found at Mama,
on the Southern Greek coast.
On examining the bird, an iron-
headed arrow, over a foot long,
was found transfixed under one
of the wings. Evidently, the
eagle had been fired at and
struck in Africa by some na
tive, and had borne the arrow
dn its body in its long flight
over the.Mcditteranean, until it
fell dead from exhaustion on
touching land at Maina.
Mrs, Annie E. Wheeler, Warrenton,
■M 0 says: “Brown’s Iron Bitters en-
ttrely relieved me of palpitation of the
heart.”
PASSION FOR A FORTUNE.
BEV. DR. DEWEY.
I can conceive of reasons
why I might lawfully, and
even earnestly, desire a for«^
tune. If 1 could fill some fair
palace, itself a work of art,
with the productions of lofty
genius; if I could be the
friend and helper of humble
worth ; if I could mark it out
where failing health and ad
verse fortune pressed it hard,
and soften or' stay the bitter
hours that are hastening it to
madness or tlie grave ; if I
could stand between the op
pressor and his prey, and bid
the fetter and the dungeon
give up their victim; if I could
build up great institutions of
learning and academies of art;
if I could open fountains of
knowledge for the people, and
conduct its streams in the
right channels; if I could do
better for the poor than be
stow alms upon them—even
to think of them, and devise
plans for their elevation in
knowledge and virtue, instead
of forever opening the old res
ervoirs and resources for their
improvidence; if, in fine,
wealth could be to me the
handmaid of exertion, facilita
ting effort and giving success
to endeavor, then might I
lawfully, and yet warily and
modestly, desire it. But if
wealth is to do nothing for me
but to minister ease and ins
dulgence, and to place my
children in the same bad
school,! fearlessly say, though
it be in the face of the world’s
dread laugh, that I do not see
why I should desire it, and
that I do not desire it!
Are my reasons asked for
this strange decision? Anoth
er, in part, shall give them for
me. “Two men,’^ says a
quaint writer, “two men I
honor, and no third. First,
the toil-worn craftsman, that
with earth-made implement
laboriously conquers the earth
and makes her man’s. Vener
able to me is the bard hand—
crooked,coarse-“wberein, not
withstanding, lies a cunning
virtue, indefeasibly royal, as
of the scepter of this planet.
Venerable, too, is the rugged
face, all weather-tanned, be-
soiled, with its rude intelli
gence; for it is the face of a
man, living manlike. 0, but
the more venerable for thy
rudeness, and even because I
must pity as well as love thee!
Hardly-entreated brother! for
us was ihy back so bent, for
us were thy straight limbs and
fingers so deformed. Thou
wert our conscript, on whom
the lot fell, and fighting our
battles wert so marred. For
in thee, too, lay a Grod-cres
ated form, but it was not to
be unfolded; incrusted must
it stand with the thick adhe*
sions and defacement of labor;
and thy body, like thy soul,
was not to know freedom.
Yet toil on, toil on; thou art
in thy duty, be out of it who
may; thou toilest for the al
together indispansable, for
daily bread,
“A second man I honor,and
still more highly; him who ii
seen toiling for the spiritual
indispensable; not daily bread,
but tne bread of life. Is not
he, too, in his duty, endeavor'
ing toward harmony, reveal
ing this by act or by word
through all his outward en
deavors, be they high or low?
Highest of all, when his out
ward and his inward endeav^
or are one; when we can
name him artist; not earthly
craftsman only, but inspired
thinker, that with heaven-
made implements conquers
heaven for us! If the ppor
and humble toil that we have
food, must not the high and
glorious toil for him in return,
that he have light and guid
ance, freedom, immortality?
These two, in all their de
grees, I honor; all else is chaff
and dust, which let the wind
blow whither it listeth.
“Unspeakably touching is
it, however, when I find both
dignities united; and he that
must toil outwardly for the
lowest of man’s wants, is al
so toiling inwardly for the
highest. Sublimer in this
woild know I nothing than a
pleasant saint,could such now,
anywhere, be met with. Such
one will take thee back to
Nazareth itself; thou wilt see
the splendor of heaven spring
forth from the humblest
depths of the earth, like a
light shining in great dark
ness.
Nay, rather let us say,hon
or to the worker, to the toiler,
to him who produces, and not
alone consumes; to him who
puts forth his hand to add to
the treasure-heap of human
comforts, and not alone to
take away. Honor to him
who goes forth amid the strug
gling elements to fight his
battle, and shrinks not, with
cowardly effeminacy, behind
pillows of ease! Honor to
the strong muscle and the
manly nerve, and the resolute
and brave heart! Honor to
the sweaty brow and toiling
brain! jflonor to the great
and beautiful offices of hu
manity, to manhood’s toil and
woman’s task, to parental in
dustry, to maternal watching
and weariness ; to teaching
wisdom and patient learning ;
to the brow of care that pre
sides over the State, and to
many-handed labor that toils
in the workshops and fields,
beneath its sacred and guar-*
dian sway.
NOW.
.A ray ot light is shed down
upon one portion of our
course; in that portion all is
distinct and clear—that is, all
which it is necessary for us to
know and to have revealed.
And that portion is the pres
ent, that which is now going
by, that which we seem to be
masters of, to employ as we
please. This which seems
like a spot of light hemmed
round by darkness, how
ought we to value it, how to
show ourselves anxious and
earnest that no portion of it be
lost for the purpose for which
it ha*8 been given? And what
is that purpose? It is given
to load us on to our unknown
future. We stand, as it were,
on a promontory, and before
and around us are the infinite
waters. By our life here, by
our gathering strength, and
our forming ourselves here,
will the character of that vast
unknown voyage be deter
mined. Now, these are very
common thoughts; there is
nothing new in them; but
whenever and by whomaoeve]
uttered, they are truly very
solemn thoughts. They are
passing by us, my friends,
these golden moments—pass
ing quicker than we can
watch them. Have we grasp
ed them or have we lost them?
There is no spectacles on
earth sadder than of a life
wasted—a creature made for
eternity sitting still and let
ting time, which is eternity’s
training hour, slip by un
heeded. And yet this sad
spectacle, how often do we
find ourselves on the verge of
furnishing it in our own per
sons? What a grand saying
is that divine command,
“Whatsoever thy hand find-
etli to do, do it with thy
might!’’ How full of wisdom,
how full, also, of loving, hear-
ty counsel for us all! “Yes,”
says some one who is listening
to me, “but my hand does
not find any thing to do.
When it does, I may try to
comply with the injunction.”
0 vain and frivolous answer!
Now dwelling in the bright,
ness, and the great unappa-
rent before thee, and nothing
to do? I see some people
spending a few days in a
great city previous to making
a long and an unknown jour
ney. They have been sent
there specially to make every
preparation possible for their
way. Their resources are
ample for each; they are sur
rounded by shops where ev
ery thing can be procured
which they may want. Their
time is uncertain—to-night
they may be summoned away,
or to-morrow. I see them
rising early to take count of
their purchases, and set down
the coming day’s work. I
see them, when the markets
are opened, busy among the
stores, pausing but a moment
even for refreshment. This
goes on all day, and at night
they sit down and take coun
sel about the great unknown
journey; and whatever defects
in preparation this council
discloses, are carefully and
without delay filled up.
And this is the care which
children of this world, which
reasonable men, bestow; and
whoever did not bestow it
would be despised and derid'
ed by all. What are we but
sojourners in this great city
of manifold opportunities, this
world so richly furnished
with Grod’s stores? What are
all around us but warehouses
of Nature, of society, of expe-
rieuce, of reading—all to fit
US out for that great unknown
journey which is before every
one of us? What are our
bodily senses, and the mind
which presides over them, but
the current coin of this great
city, which will never be dis
honored in any of its marts?
Shall the world’s travelers
rise early and take count of
tlieir stores, and shall we lie
in slumber while the great
concern takes its own chance?
Shall they go eagerly all the
day long from shop to shop,
and we take no trouble? Shall
the}' hold ever their councils
to devise all that may be ex
pedient, and we give not a
thought to the matter? How
can a slothful life, how can an
aimless life, bow can a trifling
life, be pardonable in such
men, with such certainties
{•round them, with such un
certainties before them?
MORALITY OF PUBLIC MEN.
Richmond Advocate.
Recently in England a warm
discussion occurred among the
Liberals on the subject of nomi
nating the Marquis of Blanford
as a candidate for parliament.
The young nobleman is a notori
ously dissolute man, and is even
publicly denounced as a “thor
ough paced ruffian and repro
bate.^’ A large majority of the
caucus voted that it was “injudi
cious to nominate him as a Lib
eral candidate for Parliament.'’"’
But the death of the Duke of
Marlborough makes this profli
gate a peer of England by inher
itance, so that he becomes a leg
islator, “holds in his hands the
disposition of several rich Church
livings, and has inherited a pen
sion of £5,000 from the nation.”
All this is ugly enough. It
brings into full view the evils
inherited in an order of nobility,
and shows especially how those
evils are intensified by circum
stances. But there is another
light in which the matter may
be regarded. The strong eftbrt
made tir nominate this bad man
for Parliament before the death
of his father conferred the peer-
age-upon him is no uncommon
illustration of that utter disre
gard of private and public vii tue
which so frequently characterizes
j oUtical movements. No doubt,
the evil assumes certain special
forms in a country like England.
Yet we all know how this same
evil prevails among us, and to
what a length it has been carried.
The fact is^ fhat public life has
always been inclined to have a
code of its own, and it has lost
none of this factitious indepen
dence by the progress of civiliza
tion. Certain classes of vices
have disappeared from among
rulers and those in high official
po.-itions, and we should be quite
as much astounded now by the
appearance of a Lord Bacon or
an Aaron B urr in the affairs of
government as of a Nero or a
Borgia. Can we assure our
selves, however, that we Lave
made any real advance as to the
moral principles on which civil
society is conducted, and partic
ularly as to the methods adopted
by parties to acquire and main
tain their power over the masses?
The most exciting questions
among us are those concerning
money, and, indeed, in one shape
or another, money is the absorb-
iiig political interest in our coun
try. The inevitable result of this
habitual state of things is that
we ijrize the influence of the
Ballot lar more than the influ
ence of the constitution, and, ac
cordingly, our legislation is dic
tated by selfishness of the worst
sort—the selfishness of individu
al a 'id industrial aggrandizement,
A public man can only be a
statesman by representing in
himself and through himself the
intelligence, virtue, and integrity
of his whole country. But the
drift of events here is to render
statesmanship of this brond and
genuino type an imnossibility.
The doctrine of availability is su
preme in our midst, and this doc
trine takes no heed of anything
beyond numercial success. It is
not private conscience, but pub -
lie conscience, that secures and
sustains public virtue, and bow
is it possible to have a public
conscience if we have no higher
standard of goodness than an
organized party is concerned to
uphold.—Richmond Advocate.
WHEN AND WHOM TO MARRY.
New York Herald.
“As to the age when people
should uiarry,” said the Rev.
Dr. McKendree in his sermon
last evening in the Bedford
Street Methodist Church, “the
lady should, in my opinion,
be twenty or tvventy^two and
the gentleman five yeais her
senior. Poor men cannot mar--
ry extravagant girls, who ex
pect as good a home as their
parents were only able to ac
quire after many years’ toik
The deceit practiced on both
sides is very great. The ugly
suiter gets a tailor to hide his
deficiencies; the unsightly
maidon calls in the aid ot her
rougJ* oot and milliner. Un
til recently marriage Broker- •
age was carried on in France.
We Americans are guilty of
the same thing in another way.
Mothers sell daughters to the
highest bidders and daughters
sell themselves lor gold to
men old enough to be their
grandfathers; Such women
would no more choose honest
mechanics tor their husbands
than they would convicts from
the Penitentiary. There is no
reason why women should nOt
choose as well as men. At
present the men have all the
advantage. No girl is fit to
be a wife till she can, if nec
essary, cook a meal, make a
dress and keep a house in or
der. Accomplishments are
good, but a tired husband
would much prefer a good
square meal. All matches
that are brought about by seU
fish motives are unholy, and
women who marry for posi
tion or wealth'are justas guil
ty as those who sell their vir
tue for a given sum. They
are, in fact, living a life of
legalized prostitution. Mais
riages in which there is no
adaptation are unlawful. As
oil and water will not unite
without alkaline, so many a
couple are united by means of
gold. Such artificially made
matches are often broken.
You may force alcohol and
gam-camphor to blend, but at
presence of water the alcohol
slopes and leaves the camphor
a grass-widow. In like man-
Dor a third party often steps
in between a badly assorted
pair, with what result can be
easily seen. None but those
who have been united through
pure motives and deep, abid»
ing love, have fulfilled the
conditions under which a man
and woman may really be
come husband and wife.”
■\Vhat will cure the worst case of dys-
IWiPsia! What will insure a hearty ap
petite and increased digestion? \Vhat
will cure general debility and give a
new lease of life? What will dispel
nervous depression and low spirits.
What will'restore exhausted mothers to
full strength? Wliat will strengthen
nerves and muscles? What will enrich
the blood? What will enable you to
overcome weakness, wakefulness and
lack of energy? What will prevent
chills and fever and other ellects, of
inalarial poison? Brown’s Iron Bitters,
it is well to know this.
LUTHER SHELDON,
DEAUCK IN
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AND lUTILDlNC MATEUIAL
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