North Carolina Newspapers

Chatham Record. Sip (fyfoim JittqcL ' H. A. LONDON, Jr., KDITOU AND 1MJOPRIETOK. OF Ay u z ADVERTISING. TERMS OF SUBSCRIPTION: One square, one insertion. One square, two Insertions, -One square, one month, - $1.00 - 1.50 2.50 One cory. one year, -One copy , six mouths -One copy, tUree mouths, 1.00 SO VOL. I. PITTSBOKO', CHATHAM CO., N. C, OCTOBER 17, 1878. NO. 5. For larger advertisements liberal contracts will be lUAUOi J AW 1 I I I Advertisements. LARGEST STORE LARGEST STOCK Cheapest Goods & Best Variety CAN BE FOUND AT LONDON'S CHEAP STOKE. New Qoods Receired ererr Weefc. You can always find what you wish at Lon don's. He keeps everything. Dry Goods, Clothing, Carpeting, Hardware, Tiu Ware, Drugs, Crockery, Confectionery Shoes, Boots, Caps, Hats, Carriage Materials, Sewiug Machines,Oils, Putty, Glass, Paints, Nails, Iron, Plows and Plow Castings, Solo, Upper and Harness Leathers, Saddles, Trunks, Satchels, Shawls, Blankets, Um brellas, Corsets, Belts, La dies Neck-Ties and Ruffs, Ham burg Edgings, Laces, Furniture, Ac. Best Shirts In the Country for $1. Best 5-cent Cigar, Chewing and Smoking Tobacco, Snuff, Salt and Molasses. My stock is always complete in every line, and goods always sold at the lowest prices. Special Inducements to Cash Buyers. My motto, "A nimble Sixpence is better than a slow Shilling." ISfAll kinds of produce taken. W. L. LONDON, Pittsboro', N. Carolina. P. H. CAMERON, President. W. E. ANDERSON, Hr Preu W. H. niCKS, Sec'y. The only Home Life Insurance Co. in the State. All Its fund loaned out AT HOME, and among our own people. We do not send North Carolina money abroad to build up other States. It is one of the most successful com panies of its age in the United States. Its as sets are amply sufficient. All losses paid promptly. Eight thousand dollars paid in the last two years to families in Chatham. It will cost a man aged thirty years only five cents a day to insure for one thousand dollars. Apply for further information to H. A. LONDON, Jr., Gen. Agt. PITTSBORO', N. C. Dr. A. D. MOORE, PITTSBORO', N. CM Ofert bis profeational services to tbe citizens of Chatham. With an experience of thirty years be hopes to f It entire satisfaction. JOHN MANNING, Attorney at Law, TTSB0B0', N. 0., M fBbbllBS IB ill. VUUm VI VUBWlUt A mi Moore and Orange, and la the Supreme and Federal voaria. H. A. LONDON, Jr., Attorney at Law, PITTNBO RO N. jH-Special Attention Paid to Collecting. DR. A. J. YEAGER, DENTIST, PERMANENTLY LOCATE!) AT PITTSBOEO', N. C. All Work Warranted. Satisfaction Guaranteed. R. H. COWAN, DEALER IN Staple & Fancy Drj Goods, Cloth - lng, Hats, Boots, Shoes, No tions, Hardware, CROCKERY and GROCERIES PITTSBORO', IT. C. NORTH CAROLINA STATE LIFE INSURANCE CO., 03s1 RALEIGH, N. CAR. O. 8. POE, Dealer la Dry Qooda, Groceries ft General Herchindiie, All kind of Flows and Castings, saggy Uateriali, Furniture, ate. PITT8BORO. CAB. IT NEVER PAYS. It never pays to growl and fret When fortune Is our foe The Loiter bred will push ahead. And strike the braver blow. For luck Is work, and those who shirk Should not lament their doom. But yield the pay, and clear the way. That better men have room. It never pays to foster pride, And squander time iu show ; For friends thus won are sure to run lu time of want or woe. The noblest worth of all the earth Are gems of heart and bruin, A conscience clear, a household dear, And handH without a stain. It never pays to hate a foe, Or cater to a friend ; To fawn and whine, much less repine ; To Utrrow or to lend. The faults of men are fewer when Each rows his own canoe ; For Teuds and debts and pampered pets I'ulHAiuded mischief brew. It never pays to wreck the health In drudging after gain ; And he Is sold who thinks that gold Is cheaply bought with pain. An humble lot, a cosy cot. Have tempted even kings ; For stations high that wealth will buy, fc'ot oft contentment brings, It never pays! a blunt refrain Well worthy of a song; For age and youth must learn the truth, That nothing pays that's wrong. The good and pure alone are sure To bring prolonged success; While what Is right In Reason's sight U always sure to bless. THROUGH A FLOWER. BY VIXIL DriIRINO. "What is the price of that plant, my friend?" I asked of the little Uerman florist at the corner store. The man named exactly the sum which I possessed in the whole world, and I paid it ana iook the flower. "Were you mad?"' I hear a reader ask. No, friend, I was only in lore. I he lady ot my heart had a weakness for rare Mowers, and I felt sure that she would prize such a gift beyond expres sion. 1 heretore 1 forgot the various per sons to whom the sum that I expended was due lor value received, and felt happy with the great pot with its nodding foliage in my arms. It was the rarest lily I had ever seen. I was not skilled enough in the varieties of Mowers to know whether the man told me the truth or not when he said that only he possessed a nower ot those colors, and that by certain mystic Morist arts he had produced the dower which he called the "golden lily." But I felt that it might very well be so when I observed its splen dor. It was almost pure gold, save where, at the bottom of the cup, lay Mecks of scarlet and white, and beside it the other lilies on the stand lost their beauty, and looked dull and faded. The pot in which it was planted was a curiosity, too, a Chinese thing with a per spectiveless picture of a lady walking uesiue a little blue river, attended by a person with a Ian and surrounded by square Mower-jots. I he Morist ottered to send a boy with the pot, but I would not termit it. Who knew that the plant would arrive whole and sound and uuderapitau-d at its desti nation ? I carried it myself hiuh in my arms, the Mower out of harm's 1 each above my head, the leaves tanning my tace, and found myself in the presence of Helen Harring ton, exactly at the moment when she tripped, watering-pot in hand, into her Harden. Of course she admired the flower, and of course she thanked me, and her smiles were so bewitching and her eyes so bright, and she was so evidently really pleased, that I found courage to speak as I had not dared to speak before, and tell her how I loved her. Then I discovered that she returned my afteetions, and to end the story as briefly as possible, before we parted we were betrothed. Certainly, under the circumstances, my trust in Micawber's expectation of "some thing turning up" was remarkable. I had not a cent in the world, not a patient, though my , sign, bright with gilding "Theodore Holly, M. D." had glittered on my c ffice door for two months or more, and no wealthy relatives to aid me in time of need. Yel I asked a girl accustomed to refinement, if not luxury, to keep house for me in a year's time with as much cool ness as a millionaire could have exhibited, as coolly as I had spent my last dollar (promised to my landlady that very eve ning) uiion a lily ! I intended vaguely to be rich some day, of course every man does and I had no doubt that luck would change before long. Therefore, I felt no compunctions of con science, but went right home in a merry mood, thinking myself the happiest fellow under the sun. Of course, I expected that my course of love would run on smoothly; but before the next day had passed I found out my mistake. I had an early caller in the morning; no other than Helen's father, a stout old gentleman, Vith an imposing manner, and a loud voice, and a general well-to do respectability quite annihilating to one of my peculiar disposition and habits. Hitherto, however, he had been very polite and gracious to me, and I was quite unprepared for the angry frown with which he stalked into my untidy room as I opened the door for him. My heart sank, but I placed a chair for him, and assuming my sweetest smile, remarked that we were having "charming weather." "Charming fiddlesticks I" was his an swer. "I did not come here to talk about the weather, and you know it. Don't you consider yourself a precious rascal, sir?" I stared at him in amazement. "No one has ever dared to call me so, sir, ' ' I answered. ' T "Hold your tongue, sir I" cried the old gentleman. "No affectation with me. You know you are one. A pretty fellow, indeed, to ask a girl to many him within the year 1 What do you mean by it?" "That I love her, sir," I said. 'Bah !" cried the old gentleman. "Love a fine love, indeed ! When we love people we have some consideration for their comfort. What is your wife (if you ever have one) going to live on, sir? Air, sir, like a chameleon ! Good heavens ! vour impudence surprises me We must all have a beginning, sir," I said. "You had yours, I believe. "A beginning," cried the old gentle man. "I d'd not begin by associating with wild young fellows, whose very ac quaintance was ruinous to my reputation. I did hot spend my nights drinking and gambling. I did not waste my substance in riot. 1 did not spend the hours which should have been devoted to study in re covering from the effects of whisky and beer. A new way to rise in the world ! And that is your way. You can't deny it. Rise ! You'll sink down to the very gutter, What right have you to ask a girl to marry you?" 1 put my head down on my hands, and hid my face for very shame, it was all true enough. I was reckless, wild, un steady. Yet 1 tried to falter forth an assertion that I was not so bad as some men after all, and that I intended to have a large practice, and be steady and prosperous some day. Above all, that 1 love Helen better than my life; which. was true enough, heaven knew. "Good intentions pave the way to the lower regions," said the old gentleman, when I had finished. Speaking more kindly than before, but still decidedly. '1 cannot give my daughter to one who has given no proof that he intends to put them into practice. But, aside from your habits, I have always liked you. I think you might, if you chose, become an honor to your profession, and rise in the world in every sense; and since Helen has given her heart to you, I will make a com promise. You can afford to wait for each other. Abandon your evil habits, go to some distant city, then work hard, and strive to become worthy of the love of a good woman, and at the end of three years return. 1 hen if you are what you should be, you may have my child. Three years ! It seemed an eternity to a young and ardent lover, but Helen was the only girl in the world lor me, and I had only the choice of my obeying her father's mandate, or parting Horn her for ever. Besides, the old gentleman was right; my companions and my habits had not won me the regard of our town, where the medical students were almost a public nuisance from their wildness and dissipa tion. I resolved to do what I knew would ultimately be for the best; and having de clared my resolution, found a friend in the old merchant. He gave me letters of introduction to persons of influence in San Francisco, loaned me the wherewithal tor my jour ney, and wished me well. But he forbade me to write to Helen during my absence, or to communicate with her in any way. "If your love is worth anything it will live without billet-doux for three years," he said. And Helen had never disobeyed her father. "He is very kind, Theodore," she said, "and we may trust him at his age to know what is best for us." So in a few weeks we parted, and no one can blame me, loving her as I did, if the moment was one of intense sadness. Three years three weary years before I might see her sweet young face again, and one of us might die, or another might take my place in her heart ! Who could tell? I felt sure of myself, but how could I be sure of her who was so beautiful, so good, and so evpry way charming, that others than myself must also be enamored of her, and strive to win her? "Do not forget me," I pleaded, as I kissed her lips at parting; and she promised to be true to me until we met. My last glimpse of her was taken as I turned my head and saw her waving her handkerchief to me from the window, on the sill of which my golden lily in its Chinese pot nodded its gorgeous head in the breeze as though it were also bidding me adieu. I shall say nothing of my journey to California, my first struggles there. Enough that 1 abandoned my habits of dissipation, and became steady and indus trious. I established a small practice almost im mediately. It increased. I did ray best to earn the favor of my patients by thinking of their real benefit, instead of merely grasping at my fees, and considering the sufferers who had turned to me for aid only so many "good cures." . Doctors would often succeed better in this way than any other I found it so, at least; and my health and strength of body and mind were augmented by the regular life I led, despite the severe mental labor I imposed upon myself. I thought of my dear Helen constantly, and a letter from her would have been very precious. I believe it would have been kinder in her father to have per mitted a correspondence. I suffered much anxiety on her account, which might thus have been avoided. But I had promised to submit patiently, and I worked without intermission, thus leaving myself as little time for thought as possible. There were women of course, within my circle of acquaintance who were neither old nor ugly, but they never made the least impression on my heart. What were they when compared with my dear Helen? I even shunned society, not from any fear of their fascinations, but because it involved expense, and my object was economy. And so the three years passed, and at their end I found myself with a fine practice, splendid health, a sum of money laid away for a rainy day, and every wild habit of my early youth dis carded. It is needless to say that the moment my time of probation had expired, I lingered no longer. Confiding my patients to a brother physician on whose skill I relied, I took passage East at once, and arrived in Phila delphia upon a glorious October day, a heart beating.wildly with the emotions which were naturally born of the near ap proach of my reunion with Helen. I only lingered in the city long enough to banish the traces of travel from my person, and then, dressed as becomingly as I knew how for whoever forgot per sonal appeal auce on such occasion? I jumped into a train which ran through the town where I had parted, three years before, from my darling. The time of the journey was two hours it seemed an eternity to me. I could scarcely wait for the train to slacken speed when the town was reached. I strained my eyes t catch sight of the poplars that grew above her dwelling, and rather ran than walked down the wide street which led to the green lane on which Mr. Harrington's mansion stood. Then a sight met my eyes that transfixed me to the ground in horror. The poplars stood green and tall as ever, but beyond them arose only one ruined wall, with empty windows and at its toot a heap ot rubbish, charred and blackened, and telling, as I thought, of a recent conflagration I was too much overcome to move for many moments, but at last I summoned courage to make inquiries with a throbbing nean. x wanteu up to an old woman who stood at an opposite door, and asked her if she could tell me where to find Mr. Harrington. She shook her head, "No," she said; "nor no one in the place. They went away in the night, and we've never nearaoi 'em. Perhaps you're a friend of theirs?" "Yes, yes," I gasped. "Tell me all you know." "You see, Mr. Harrington failed two years ago," said the woman, "and that crushed him down, and then the bank broke where he had a little left after things were settled, and theu some one set his house on fire, and he waa so burnt that he lost his sight and they couldn't bear, I suppose, to live in comparative poverty where they had lived so well, so they went away secret-like, and have not been seen since, nor heard of. They did say she was married, but that may be nonsense, and some say they're in New York, but it's all guess-work. Why, how pale you do look ! Are you a relation?" But I could not answer her. I leaned against the door-way, faint and ill. It was to hear this at last that I had struggled with fate, and denied my heart a glimpse of her 1 loved for all these years. the old woman was right. No one knew more than she. 1 went to Mew York, and searched for her for mouths. I advertised, but all iu vain. At last, be lieving I had indeed been forgotten, and that the tale of her marriage was true. I settled down in that city as a physician, determined at least to be worthy of her .....I ... !:.. ...I- i. ii i i- i aim nvc me wuicn i nau jiveu lor her sake. And so two more years passed without a glimpse of her. One Christinas Eve, the fifth of our parting, I sat alone in my surgery, and could have wept with loneliness. What was the wealth and fame I now might confidently hope to win, if her smiles did not bless me, if no wife ever sat beside my hearth, and no child called me father? I began to wonder whether it might not be better for me to find some woman worthy of respect and admiration, and bestow upon her what remnants of a heart I had to give, ere 1 grew cold and selfish in my loneliness. And as I thought thus, a woman came rapping at my dor to beg me to come at once to a house where an accident had happened. 1 hurried on my overcoat and hat, and followed her. it was a tipsy laborer who had scalded himself with a kettle of boiling water, and it was no easy task to bind up his wounds and convince him that he was in no dan ger, if he would obey my instructions and refrain from tippling. Consequently it was late when I hurried down stairs on my way home. All the lamps in the house were lit, and over the table of a rather respectable room on the lower Moor llamed a jet of gas. Its sharp hissing, for it was turned on too high, at tracted me. I glanced at it, and remained riveted to the spot. Beneath it, on the table, stood the "golden lilv' I had given Helen five years before. The same Mower in the same pot, but covered by a glass. Without pausing to think of the pro priety of the act, I strode in and bent over it. Then I saw that it was made of wax the Mower, at least. The pot must be, I knew, the very same. It was not my Mower, but its portrait from life. I struck with my ,cane upon the table, and a dingy little girl ran in. "To whom does this belong?" I asked. The girl stared. "It's her's," she said. "She makes 'em. It's wax." "Yes, yes," I said, remembering on the instant that wax Mower-making was a favorite amusement of Helen's. "Let me see her." The girl ran away. I waited in intense anxiety, expecting my darling, sure that I should see her, my heart palpitating, my hands trembling. At the sound of the step upon the stair I started to my feet and stood ready to clasp her to my arms, but alas ! only a stout, elderly female, with a vulgar face, and coarse, red hair, entered. I shrank back as she stared at me in surprise, and strove to compose myself. "I desired to see the lady who made this," I said. "That's me, sir; I dispose of 'em," she answered. "What can 1 do for you?" "You I" I faltered. "I beg that you will tell me from what that Mower was copied, and where you obtained the vase." She looked at me in astonishment. "Honestly," she said. "But, bless us, you're not ill?" "No," I said. "But that flower is an old friend of mine; I will pay any sum for information in regard to it." The woman looked at me doubtfully. I laid a five-dollar note upon the table. "Tell me all you know of the plant from which this was copied, 1 said. She smiled her finger touched the money. "It's breaking faith," she said, "but 1 II tell you. 1 didn t make n. I couldn't. But, you see, a lady does 'em that boards with me. I was her servant once, and she's come down to earn her living that way. That ain't for sale. It's one she made for herself, to keep a flower she was fond of before her eyes. But she makes others beauties and she supports her self and her blind father by it. lie's very proud, and won't let it be known. So I pretend it's me, and sell 'era." My heart beat rapturously. "Is she here?' I asked; "in this house?" The woman answered that they were, but "would see no one." "Give her this card," I said; "she will see me And I waited once more in the little parlor this time not in vain, for in a few moments the door opened once more, and I 'clasped my Helen, as beautiful and charming as when I left her, to my bosom. The tale is soon told. She loved me still, and we were married, and beside our happy fireside the old merchant eiyled his days in peace and tranquility, and died blessing us. And still upon a stand in one of our apartments nods the waxen lily in all its golden splendor; and when I look upon it I often think how small a price I paid for it compared to its worth, for who would have thought that when in my extrava gance I gave all that I possessed for a flower, that through its means I should have found at last the joy and comfort which now crown my days that by its means my love should be restored to me ? Philadelphia Sunday Transcript, THE HOME. True society begins in the home. When two young people love each other and marry, they restore the pictures of me apostouc cnurcn. Ihey are one heart and one soul. Neither do they say that anything they possess is their own, but they have all things in common. Their mutual trust in each other, their entire confi dence in each other, draws out all that is nest m both. .Love is the angel who rolls away the stone from the grave in which we bury our better nature, and it comes forth. Love makes all things new; makes a new heaven and a new earth; makes all cares light, all pain easy. It is the one enchantment of human life which realizes Fortanoi's purse and Aladdin's palace, and turns the "Arabian Nights" into mere prose in comparison. Think how this old storv of love is repeated forever in all the novels and romances and poems, and how we never tire of reading about it; and how if there is to be a wedding in a church all mankind go, just to have one look at two persons who are supposed, at least, to be in love, and so supremely nappy, uut tins, also, is not perfect society. It is too narrow, too exclu sive. It shows the power of devotion, trust, self-surrender, that there is in the human heart; and it is also a pro- pnecy oi something larger that is to come. 15ut it is at least a home, and before real society can come, true homes must come. As in a sheltered uook iu the midst of the great sea of ice which rolls down from the summit of Mont Blanc is found a little green spot full of tender flowers, so, in the shelter of home, in the warm atmos phere ot household love, spring up the pure affections of parent and child; father, mother, son, daughter; of brothers and sisters. Whatever makes this insecure, and divorce frequent, makes of marriage not a union for life, but an experiment which may be tried as often as we choose, and abandoned when we like. And this cuts up by the roots all the dear affections of home; leaves children orphaned, destroys fatherly and motherly love, and is a virtual dissolution of society. I know the great difficulties of this question, and how much wisdom is re quired to solve them. But whatever weakens the permanence of marriage tends to dissolve society; for permanent homes are to the social state what the little cells are to the body. They are the commencement of organic life, the centers from which all organization proceeds. Rev. James Freeman Clark in Burlington Uawkeye. THE END OF GREATNESS. Alexander, after having climbed to the dizzy heights of ambition, and, witb. bio tomplos bouml with, ihaplctn dipped in the blood of countless nations, looked down upon a conquered world, and wept that there was not another city for him to conquer, set a city on fire, and died in a scene of debauch. Hannibal, after having, to the as tonishment and consternation of Rome, passed the Alps, after having put to flight the armies of the mistress of the world, and stripped three bushels of gold rings from the fingers ot her slaughtered knights, and made.her foun dation quake tied from his country, being chased by one of those who exult- mgly united his name to that ot uod, and called him Hanni Baal died at last by poison administered by his own hand, unlamented, unwept, in a foreign land. Ca;sar, after having conquered eight hundred cities, and dyed his clothes in the blood of one million of his foes; after having pursued to death the only rival he had on earth, was miserably assas sinated by those he considered his nearest friends, and in that very place, the attainment of which had been his greatest ambition. Bonaparte, whose mandate kings and emperorB obeyed, after having filled lie earth with the terror of his name, de luged it with blood, and clothed the world with sackcloth, closed his days in lonely banishment almost ltierally exiled from the world, yet where he could sometimes see his country's ban ner waving over the deep, but could not, or would not bring him aid. Thus, four great men, who, from the i i i f j. i peculiar situation oi tiieir portraits, seemed to stand the representatives of all the world calls great those four, who each in turn made the world tremble to its centre by their simple tread, severally died one by intoxica tion, or some suppose, by poison mingled in wine; one a suicide; one murdered by his friends, ana one m lonely exile. LEARNING TO SWIM. The best nlan for learners, whether in fresh or salt water, is to attach a cord to a tree, or boat, or tne macnine; or, if these are not available, get a companion to hold the end of the cord on shore. With this cord tied round the arm or waist, let the beginner walk out till the water is up to his chin, and then turn round and lace tne snore, lie mav even then back out a little farther. when he will find the force of the water taking him off his legs, and he will then find no difficulty in making a few strokes, even at the first attempt, in fact, hv holdiner the head well up. which necessarily expands the chest, he will find he cannot help nimseii irom swim m'mff. or rather floating: and bv gently thrusting out, and drawing in the hands and feet, exactly in imitation of the movement oi a trog in tne water, ne will accomplish more in two or three davs than in as manv weeks with the corks or bladders that is, he will have more confidence in himself, and Know more of the power of the water to sus tain him on its surface. A better knowledge even of this he will have by keeping his bacK to tne snore uu out in deen water as far as he can go, then throwing back his head, expanding his chest, making, as it were, a curve with the back, and allowing the legs to float oat ward and from under him, he will find that ms companion on snore coui u draw him completely in without sirk inor. A few such experiments, and then he might, by the gentle action of the hands and feet, work himself on ' shore. With the cord, the young be ginner will have no fear, saving for a few mouthfuls of water, and these he will not care about so long as he learns to swim. Boston Journal. ROMANCE OF A COUNTESS. Genevieve Ward, who will appear at Booth's in this city next month, is in reality a countess, and one of high uegree. xnis was now it came about : She studied originally to be a singer. and did appear upon the operatic stage I in ibo'j . i nen she went abroad to study. Living quietly in Paris with her mother, she became acquainted with a llussiau count a real count who belonged to an influential and wealthy family. He was a man of accomplishments and fascinating quali ties, and when he asked the American girl to be his wife, he found a heart already conquered. They were mar ried quietly at a Roman Catholic church. In some way or other, by means of a chance remark by some one, she got an inkling on the wedding day that the marriage would not be legal iu jvussui unless ii was aiso celebrated in a Russian church. When she asked her husband about 't the same day, he met the point verycomposedlv. admit ted that this was true, but added that there was ro Russian church iu Paris ; that, as this was merely an additional and formal ceremony, he had supposed tout it might oe postponed until they reached Milan, where they proposed going, and where, he said, there was a iuisco-u reeK church. To this his bride replied that he might go on to Milan, and she would follow with her ir other; aim tney couiu be married there. The impatient lover chafed at all this, but the girl was firm about it. though she does not seem to have begun to suspect nun. lie obeyed her, and they jour neyed to Milan by separate trains. Alter they had arrived, he appeared with a story that the Russian clergy man was out of town, and an appeal to her to forego this insistance upon a mere formality and set out with him upon their travels. Then the native shrewdness of the girl asserted itself over her love for this titled rascal. She had inquiries made, and discovered that the Russian priest was in town, and likewise, that there was a Russian church in Paris. Evidently the count had been ly:ig to her, and with what purpose was too evident. She con fronted him with her knowledge, and he, seeing the game was up, disap peared. She returned to Paris, filled with a determination to compel this man to grant her redress. She went to the American minister, and, not finding him .in the city, laid her case, in the innocence of her heart, before his official representative, Mr. Donn Piatt. Of Mr. Piatt's share in this history it is perhaps well to say as little as possi ble. It will be sufficient to say that when the prefect of police demanded Miss Ward's papers of him he gave them up. By this time Miss Ward had got her mental perspective adjusted, and knew just what to do. Sli set out for St. Petersburg with her mother; took a house there, and entered tlu best society of the capital. Their letters gave them the entrance every where; they had plenty of money and entertaineu in handsome style; and the New lork girl, whose mind was all the while bent on a campaign of which no one else knew, was soon the belle of the season. When the waiter was nearly over, when her position as reisn- mg xavorite or tot. Petersburg was tivmly established, wheu no great en tertainment was considered complete without a song from her, she began operations. Up to this time there had been ro :gn oi her semi-husband, but she had ascertained as soon as she ar rived in Russia that all that had been said of the power and wealth of his family was true. The visible proof of it was fourd in t'le iact that his brother was one of t le government ministers, and enjoyed the special confidence of the Czar. This only nerved her i'or the effort Lhe was to make, the more so as this minister was a constant attendant a j her receptions, and acted very much as if he were himself in love with her. She asked, through the American minister, an opportunity of making a statement to the C ir concerning one of his officers. This was granted, and without giving names she told her story. The Czar was indignant and declared that this o licer should sillier whatever punishment she demanded. He caned in his minister, the brother of the culprit, who vowed that such a mau should not be allowed to remain ii the armies of the Czar. His uniform should be stripped from him. Then there was a dramatic scene when the Ctr asked the name of the offender, and she gave it. The brother exclaimed in a transport of rage, perhaps of dis appointed love and jealousy, "he shall be hanged!" Rut she said she would not have indignities put upon him. She fel; herself above revenge; all that she asked was mst'ce. A peremptory order was dispatched to the post at which Count was stationed, requiring his immediate ap pearance bevore the Czar. He came, ot course ; counts are prompt when Czars command. He was confronted with the disclosure, and told by the Czar that he roust comply with the lady's demand, which was that he fulfill his piomise by completing the marriage ceremony. Now, manlike, this count was taken with the spirit and courage and brilliant cleverness of the girl whom he had once sought to deceive. He would have liked to begin a second wooing before the second marriage, and would have been glad, no doubt the match once settled, to be a devoted husband to such a rare woman. But he was very coolly received, and an unnrstakable intimation was given that he need not present himself until the day of the ceremony, and then at the church. The day came, and the half married maid apieared, dressed wholly in black: her mo-her also in black. The soirbre bride met her hus band at the altar, for she would not even walk up the aisle with him. The ceiemouy was performed. At its cm- elusion she made him a stately salute, walked do .vn the aisle and out of the church; stepped into the carriage wli'ch was m readiness for a ?ong journey, and set out at once for the frontier. She has never seen her husband since. "Ah," says some, "what a romantic story 1 What a pity it isn't true!" But it is true. It is a romance in real life where all the romances arc that arc worthy of the name. Miss Ward belongs to an old and highly respectable New York family. and her f..ther is the famous Sam Ward, or Washington. JSew 1 ork (JorresjioH dence Cincinnati Gazette. Bismarck weighs 24:5 pounds. "Metallic Blue" will le one of the new and popular shades the coming season. M. Taine is fifty years old, and lives handsomely in the midst of the Faubourg St. Germain, Paris. The California newspapers legin to complain of the tramp nuisance, and are considering means for relief. A green caterpillar is doing much damage to the quince trees along the Cumberland Valley, in Pennsylvania. English town councils are calling new streets and squares "Cyprus," in commemoration of the recent acquisi tion. A crescent-shaped pin, set with colored pearls and diamonds, may be worn as lace pin, hair ornament or shawl pin. According to official reimrts there are in New York City 87.r. places where malt and spirituous liquors are sold at retail. Judge William Thomas, of Jack sonville, 111., a veteran jurist of ninety- two years, is away on a wedding tour with a bride of seventy-live years. The daughter of Prince Frederick Charles of Prussia marries the king of the Netherlands, a man who w;us mar ried to one wife three years Ijel'oro his present bride was liorn. The exclusive influence of the mo ther over the son for the most part ends in positive disaster or compara tive failure; and licentious self-indulgence, effeminacy or priggishness is tho ahoo.it rtuie. result of the cxici'i meiit. London IVutk. Mrs. Fanny Washington Finch, the great grand-niece of George Wash ington, and supposed to be the nearest of living kin to him, is in real need iu Washington. She has been keeping a Ijoarding-house, and recently her fur niture was placed under attachment as security for arrears of rent. The fall wholes-ale trade in this city has opened with much activity, and despite the injury to southern business by the spread of yellow fever, the Sides have already ljoen remarkably large. Prices are generally lower than at any previous period since the war, but they are lelieved to have "touched bottom," and the feeling among mer chants is hopeful. New York Fust. The Trenton (X.J.) dazeltc says the business of building in that city is improving, and that quite a number of new houses and stores will be com pleted this fall. A number of hitherto unoccupied tracts of land are now giaced by rows of fine brick dwellings and stores, and streets that used to wear a dismal, churchyard aspect, have been livened into quite a business like air. A clergyman iu Australia, being disgusted with the number of three penny pieces he found in the plate every Sunday, studied the subject, and instead of paying the small silver coins into the bank, locked them up iu his desk. The result was marvellous. After some I:'.) of small coin had lM;en withdrawn from circulation sixpences and shillings took their places on the plate, and latest accounts speak en couragingly of the increased amount derived from the weekly contribu tions. At the Turkish table the hostess is the first to dip her sjiooii into the soup tureen, politely inviting her guests to do the same. It is consid ered a great mark of attention on the part of the hostess to pick up the daintiest bit of food and place it in tho mouth of any of her guests. European manners have lately been rapidiy gain ing ground, however, and a writer tells of seeing women provided with forks, which for style they pretended to use, but for business they still depend on the thumb and forefinger and the re suit of the fork, which they still clung to, was an occasional gored cheek and a bleeding nose. When a woman has a new pair of shoes sent home she performs altogether different from a mau. She never shoves her toes into them and yanks and hauls until she is red in the face and all out of breath and then goes stamping and kicking around, but pulls them on part way carefully, twitches them off again, to take a last look and see if she has got the right one, pulls them on again, looks at them dreamily, says they are just right, then takes another look, stops suddenly to smooth out a wrinkle, twists around and surveys them side ways, exclaims "Mercy, how loose they are, ' ' looks at them agaiusquare iu front works her foot around so they won't hurt her quite so much, takes them off', looks at the heel, the toe, the bottom and the inside, puts them on again, walks up and down the room once or twice, remarks to her better-half that she won't have them at any price, tilts down the mirror so she can see how they look, turns iu every possible direction and nearly dislocates her neck trying to see how they look from that way, backs off, steps up again, takes thirty or forty farewell looks, says they make her feet look awful big and never will do in the world, puts them off" and on two or three times more, asks her husband what he thinks about it and then pays no attention to what he says, goes thraugh it all again and finally says she will take them. It s a very simple matter. Bridjiort Standard,