Newspapers / The Orphans’ Friend (Oxford, … / April 14, 1875, edition 1 / Page 4
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Fro;ii time iRimoniorial Friday lias been frowned upon as a dav of ill omen. And tliough this jirejudico i.s less prevalent now than of yore, when sujier.slition had general sway, yet there are many even in this matter of fact age of ours, who rvould hesitate, on a day so inauspicious, to begin an undertaking of momentous im port, and how many bravo mar iners, whose liearts unquailed could meet the wildest fury of their ocean homo, would blanch even to bend their sails on Fri day. But to sliOAV rvith how much reason this feeling is in dulged, lot ns examine the folloiv- iiig important facts in connection with our settlement and great ness as a nation—and we will .see how great a cause wo Americans have to dread tlie Fatal day : On Friday, Angnst 3, 1492, Christojilier ■Ooliiiubiis sailed on his great voyage of discovery. On Friday', Jan. 4, 1493, he sail ed on his return to Spain, whieli, if he had not reached in safty, the happy result ivould never liave been known which led to the set tlement of this vast continent. On Friday, March 12, 1494 he, though unknown to himself, dis- . covered the continent of America. Friday', March 5, 1495,, Heniy VII. of England, gave Jolin Cabot his commission, which led to the discovery of North Ameri ca. Friday, Sep. 7, 15G9, Male- drez founded St. Augustine, the oldest settlement in the United States by' more than 40 years. Friday, Nov. 10, 1G20, the May Flower, with the Pilgrims, made the harbour of Prov'idence town, and on the same day signed that august compact, the foreruMierof our glorious constitution. Friday, Deo. 22, 1629, the Pilgrims made their final lauding on Plymouth rock. Friday', Feb. 22, 1732, George Washington, the Father of American freedom, was born. Friday', June 19, 177G, Bunker Hill was seized and fortified. Friday', Oct. 7, 1777, the surren der of Saratoga was made, which had such a powerful iulluence iu inducing France to deciaro for our cause. Friday, Sep. 22, 17- 80, the treason of Arnold ivas hiid bare, which saved us from de struction. Friday', Oct. 19, 1781, the surrender of York Town, the crowning glory of the American arms. Friday, June 7, 1776, the motion was made in Congress by John Adams, secondodby'Kiclmrd Henry Lee, that the United Colo nies were and of right out to be free aud indopendeiit. I'lius, by numerous examples, wo see that however it may' be with other nations, Americans need never dread to begin on Friday any undertaking, howev er momentous it may bo.—The 1‘atriot ami Flag. SATUKI),\.Y NIGHT. What blessed things Saturday night,s are, and what would the world do without them ? Those breathing moment,s in the tramp ling surf of life. J’hose little twi lights in the broad and garish glare of noon, when jiale y'cster- day' looked lieautiful through the shadows, and faces, changed long ago, smile sweetly—again in the hush when one remembers the old arm chair, and the little brother that died and the little sister that was translated. Saturday nights make people human ; set their hearts to beat ing softly, as tliey used to. before the world turned thorn into wax drums, and jarred them to pieces with tattoos. The ledger closes with a clash; the iron doored vaults come to with a bang; iqi go the shutters with a will; click goes the key' in the lock; it is Saturday night, and business broath.es free again. Homeward, ho ! The door that has been ajar all the week gently' closes after him, the w'Orld is .shut out! Shut in rather. Hero are the treasures after all, and not iu the vaults and not iu the book—save the re cord in the old family Bible—aud not in the bank. Miiy-be y'ou aio a liachelor, frosty' aud forty', then, poor fel low, Saturday nights are noth ing to you, just as y'ou are noth ing to any thing. Get a W'ife, bluc-ey'ed, or black-eyed, but above all, true eyed—'get a home, no matter liow' little, and a little sofa, just to hold tivo, or tw'o and a half, and then get tw'O or two and a half in it, on' a Sat urday night, and then read this garagraph by' the light of y'our wife’s eyes, and thank God and take courage. The dim and dusty' shops are swept up, the hammer is throivn down, the apron is doffed, andja- bor hastens with a light steji hoinew'ard bound. “ Satui-day' night,”, freely murmurs the lan guishing, as she turns w'oarily upon her couch; and is there an other to come ? Saturday' night, at last! whis pers the iveepor above the dying; “and it is Sunday' to-morrow', and to-moiTow'!—Patriot ami Plag. PRETENDED ARISTOCR.AOy. There is a great deal of hum bug and shameful deceit in the w'orld now'-a-days, and wo have been not a little amused by the pretentions made to rank and title by some whose ancestry were not unwilling to own that they earned their daily bread by the ‘sweat of their brow.’ Those who assume for themselves a su periority over their fellow's, are generally descended from parents who daiinod no preeminence for their high birth or degree. By fortune favored they have liecn placed in a position in life to eomniand re,spect—for their money', and believing gold to be the title to Aristocracy', they as sume a haughty' demeanor, and' say to those less fortunate . than themselves, “I am holier than thou.” Strange that those tliat, in their ymunger days, were w'ont to associate with the offspring of common people, should arro gate to themselves superiority' over the honest meclianic aud la borer, the very support of our country. The true nobleman is to be distinguished bi/ bis man ners aud not bi/ the aumbor of his ducats. True, what the good poet said, T]ia.t .ejoiitlo iiiiiul by geiiilo clcctl is knovu, For inau by uotbiug is so veil boviTiyed As by ills mauners iu vliitth plain is sbown Of what ilcgrce and wliiit face he is gown. We honor and respect the man W'ho strives to maintain ■ the dig nity of whatever station ho may occupy iu life, but there are so many whose pride is the basis of their claim to aristocracy, that we cannot but smile as they exhibit their weakness. Low' birth is no crime, and be who calls the poor seamstress—mother is equal iu all respects—provided ho is a man wlio W'as reared iu the cradle of luxury. Titles of honor add not to bis worth, WIio ia an honor to his title. Beneath the homespun raiment of the hard fisted son of toil, there may beat a heart as sensible to high and noble feeling as can bo lound back of the silfc, satin and broadcloth of wealth. The germs . of greatness are /iidden in the re cesses of labor, and from time to time develop t.?iemseB'e,s to startle and astouisA the w'orld. All the gi-eat men of the laud, in early life, w'ore poor and w'it/iont posi tion. TVic innate spirit of noble ness t/?at finally claimed ac.fnowl- edgmont from the people, w'as not the result of title or jiroud position. It sprung from the hemt of .Aouor aud virtue, unadorned by wealtA or fortune, or by raiiA. Whe’er amidst the sons, Of reason, valor, liberty and virtue, Disphtys distiuginshinents, is a uoblo Of iKituro’s own erecflon. A Sci’stiosi Fi’om a PiUi’ of 55ooS.s. There lived forty years ago in Biirliu a Hlioemakor, who hud a habit of speaking harshly of all Ilia iieiglibors who did ' not feel exactly as he did about religion. The old pastor of the parish iu which the shoemaker lived heard of this, aud felt that he must give liirn a lesson. He did it in this way. He sent for the sliooinaker one morning, and when he came he said to liim, ‘Master, take m}- moamre for a pair of boots.’ ‘Witli pleasure, yourrevorence,’ answered the shoemaker. ‘Please to take oft’ yoim boots.’ 'The clergyman did so, and tlie shoemaker measured l.\is foot from too to heel, and over tlie instep, and noted all down in his pocket- book, and then prepared to leave the room. But as he was putting up the measure the pastor said to liim, ‘Master, lU}’’ son also requires a pair of boots.’ ‘I will make them with pleas- ure, your reverence. Uan i tiise the young goiitlemim’s measure V ‘It is |not necassary,’ said the p.'istor. ‘The lad is fourteen, but you can make my boots and his from the same last’ Y'our reverence, that will never do,’ said the shoemaker, with a smile of surprise, ‘I tell you, master, to make m}' boots and my son’s on the same last.’ ‘No, your reverence, I cannot do it.’ ‘It must be—on the same last.’ But, your reverence, it is not possible, if the boots are to fit,’ said the shoemaker, thinking to himself that the old pastor’s w'its were leaving liim. ‘Ah, then, master shoemaker,’ said the clergyman, ‘every pair of boots must be made on their ow'ii last, if they are to fit, and yet you think that God is to form all Christians exactly according to your own last—of the same meas ure and grow'th iu religion as yourself. That will not do eith er.’ The shoemaker was abashed. Then ho said, ‘I thank your reverence for this sermon, and I will trg to judge my neighbors loss lianshlj' for the future.’ Asa IIEoial'icsst jP5e;aIea’. The most touching scone in Walter Scott’s novels is the pic ture of Jeannie Deans pleading for her guilty sister. No pathos could be more tender or melting. Tlie following incident in a New' Y'ork court will remain ever}' rea der of Scott of tlie masterpiece : A short time ago, in the New' York Court of Special Sessions, a boy ten years of age was arraign ed for stealing, and pleaded guil ty. As soon as he appeared at the bar, his little sister, about nine years old, Vvho was on the other side of the room, commen ced crying, bitterly, and was about to rusii to her brother, liut was rostrasnod by' the mother, w'lio was also batlied in tears. Justice Dow'liiig told her to come up, and she’ ran up so thq little prisouer, tho tears streamed down her cheeks, tlirowliig her arms around iiis neck, exclaimed, while sobs almost choked her 'I’oico,— “O! Joimiij', Joliunj', what brought you here I" and liiey wejit in eacliotlier’s arms. The glii then turned to tho justice, aud falling on her knees, held her hands up, boseecliiiiglg, and pra^- ed, “O, judge, judge, let mg brotlier go !” The mother stood inside tho bar, weeping aud there was not a di’^ eyo iu the court room. Justice Dowling, vulio was deeply moved, could not resist the affeetiug appeal of tho child, a.id said, “Take him with ?/ou, my girl!” Siie rail to the gate to moot him, clinging to him, they reach ed the mothea, aud tho three left the court, objectc of tho siiicerest sympathy, aud a sign of a relief appeared to isne from every bo som as they passed out of the room. Fi'iiyiiig iiEici wovliissg;. I like that saying of Martin Lu ther when ho taj's, “I have so much business to do to-day that 1 shall not bo able to get through it with less than three hours’ pray er.” Now, most people would say, “I have so uuich buisiness to do to-day that I 'liave only three minutes for^n-ay or; I cannot afford the time.” But Luther thought that the more lie had to do the more he must pray, or else he could not get through it. That is a blessed kind of logic: may we understand it! “Fraying' aud provender binder no man’s jour ney.” . If we have to stop and pray, it is no more a hindrance than when the rider has to stop at the farrier’s to have liis horse’s slioe fastened; for if he \vont on without attending to that, it may be that ore long he w'ould come to a stop of a far more serious kind.—0. II. Sgmrgcon. A Sl’ARKO’.v'S VVlNTBK HoTEL.--Ouo of tbo modt tiiicklj populated haunts in Newark, says .tlie Courier, is niuler a sort of shed that extends along almost the entire front of the largo hrick hailding at the junotiem of Center and liiver streets. In tlie frauiowork of tho shed, eloso to the wall, tho sparrows have woven ah.mt a quarter of a tun of lia-y. Think of the industry of these little architects, Yvho have built this iuimonse family hotel, strand by strand, just as tiio bricklayer laid one brick upon another to form the^building whoso walls shield tho sparrows from winds and storms. In this long lino of liay there arc thousa'nds of hole.s, and on a sunny morning yon may see tiny heads peering out, indicating that the sparrow lives at home, Yvann in its downy nest, obiivioua to miners’strikes and tho high price.s for coal. The fiercest storm that ever raged in these regions conid 'never reach tliat retreat. It is protected from the winds, it is opened to tiio very warmest ra' g of snnthat, froni the position of the haunt, are unobstructed l>y any intervening building. From here flie s{)arrow has a wide jn-ospcct. lie can sit in Iiis nest and look across tho riv er, over tlie meadows, and doivu the bay 'Fho -first rays of morning sunlight fall upon his liomd and waken him from his slumbors. They have so arranged their little city that it seems impregnable againts tho assaults of naughty boys, and no prowling grimalkin would ever liaY'O tho temerity to attempt to climb to that little fortress where Gen. spar row and his army, with tlicir n-ives and little ones, rest from their toils in stormy weather, bask in the delicious sunsliine, aud enjoy tho results of many a foray among ash boxes and around Idtclien doors. A Natuiuyd Curiosity’—We learn that there is a negro boy 7 years old, son of Tom Taylor, who lii-es on the land of Mr. G. W. Littrrd, iu this comity, who is a considerable curiosity. The boy is a iiatual singer- and can sing any song he ever heard. His hair is as white, as cotton aud so nappy that it cannot be combed without great pain to the boy. Ho is quite small to his age—Ills father Yi'cis offered S2,C00 for him by a showman, as he is such a curiosity, and another man offer ed $200 per month for him, but his father is unwiijing to let him go, — Carroll News. «ESef8‘esSfi2S3o:5t SaSoasYs.’’ In no city arc tho means of intoxication picking', but New i'ork pivivides then on iho most gigantic scale.% The N. Y. Times gives some staitling figures regarding them. The licensed saloons amount .in round numbers to 7,000, graded from $250 to $r-0 fees each, per annum, and yielding last year a total revenue to the city of $527, ,‘380. Tho aver age daily receipts to keep up wic’i rents aud other hi'iivy o-xpenses cannot be less than $.20 rprobably that is a small average, but it roju-csents a daily tofal of $140,000 per dayiiaidfor drinks. Carrying this through tho Ooi) days that make up tho year aud the alcoholic aggregate is $5.1,100,000. But iu addition to these saloons, which pay for their ]n'iviiiges, there arc at least .5,000 uiijiceu.^cd saloons ill the city which will bring the tot:il expenditure for stimulants up to more than $0.5,700,000, or a fraction over §00 fur every man, woman and child in the metropolis. Of dio hundred dollar grade of licenses tlicro aro ,'3,958 wliieh mark tho places frequented by the poorer classes in search of spirituous liquors. In addition to these there aro 2,058 places that took out ale and boor lieen.ses only at $40 each, and those are the ro.sorts of per- s nis of moderate incomes. It is estimated also that four out of every six dollars wasted in intoxicants come from those who depend upon their daily toil for subsistence. Who is wisef He tliat is teivchablo. Who mighty? Ho that con pivs himself. Who is rich? He that is contentedf Who is honored f Ho that honoreth others. The Children’s Friend is published ©v-« ery W'ednesday, at the Orphan Asylum, in Oxford, N. C. It enters a field occupied by no other paper, representing no party in politics and no sect in religion; but helping all parties and all sects to unito in promoting tho judicious education of the young, and tlie con tinuous improvement of tho old. It discusses tho duties and privileges of pa rents aud teachers, and defends tho rights and denounces the wrongs of children. It gives special attention to poor orphans, and tells tliom how to escape their present deg radation, how to gi'ow up into wi.se and vir tuous men and women, and how to secure lib eral wages for honest work. Tho object of the paper is to help all our people to be good and to do good. Price, ofie doUcw a year, aheays in advance. A few cash advertisements will bo admit- od, at ten cents a line for the first insertion,, and five cents a line for each subsequent in sertion. Tlie same advertisement -.vill not be iiiHPit- cd more than tliirteen times, as a liTo paper can not afford to >ing any one song ibrovtr. All friends of the young are roquesled to i'orn-ard subscriptions at om-o. Address: XMS CII5Iz]3IS.SA'’S Oxford, N. C. Forfiis of Ap2>l5«atioEa for Admission to tise Oi piaan Asylnsns. -N. G., 1875 This is to ceriify that, is an orphan, without estate, and... .years of age. H. „ father died in IS; li.. .mothcT I, being h hereby make appVieaiion for li.... admission into tie Asy* hmz, at • and' I also relinquish and convey, to the officers of the Asylum, the manage ment and control of the said orphan ' for years, in order that..,. may be trained and educated ac cording to the regulations prescribed by tne Grand Lodge of North Car- ' olina. Approved by.
The Orphans’ Friend (Oxford, N.C.)
Standardized title groups preceding, succeeding, and alternate titles together.
April 14, 1875, edition 1
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