Newspapers / The Chatham Record (Pittsboro, … / March 31, 1881, edition 1 / Page 1
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A J Jfyf n H. A. LONDON, Jr., EDITOR AND rnOPRIETOR. BATES OF Ay v- Z YV ADVERTISING. TERMS OF SUBSCRIPTION: one t i v. no year, .00 itfi- miiith ...... 1.00 Ooetwpr ttr raontUc, .40 One square, one insertion, -One square, two insertions One square, oue month, - 1.50 2.50 VOL.111. NO. 29. PITTSB01lO CHATHAM CO-, N. C, MARCH 31, 1881. H. A. LOW, Jr., Editor and Publisher. For larger advertisements liberal contracts will Faithful. A long lare ward iu the lioMjital; A lying girl in tho narrow bod; A nuw, whose footsteps lightly fall, s"thin? softly that restless head. slain by tin- man she learned to love, n.nton, mnrdored and thing away; ,m. Insheld it but God above, Ami she who lwre it. And there she la,' "A littlo drink of water, dear?" slowly tho white lips gasp and sip. "J,rt me turn you over, so yon can hear, While I let the iee on your temple drip.' A l'ok of terror disturbs her faee: Finn and silent those pale lips e-Iosv; A stranger stands iu the nurse's plaee; ' Tell ns w ho hurt you. for no one knows." A glitter of joy is iu hoi eye. Faintly lie whispers: "Nobody did." And one tear ehritens tho loving lie From the heart in that wounded bosom hid. N'olywly did it!" she says again; "Nobody hurt me!" Her eyes grow dim: Hnt in that spasm of mortal pain, sh says to herself, 'Tve saved you, Jim!" Pay by day as the end draws near. To gentle question or stem demand, puly that one response they hear. Though she lift to heaven her waited hand: Nobody hurt me!" They see her die: The same word still on her latest breath: With a tranipiil smile she tells her lie, And glad goes down to the gates of duath. Fa'en. murdered, but faithful still. Loving above all wrong and avoc, t she has gone to a land of ill. Where, oh! saint, shall we other go? 1 vn. I think, 'hat evil man Ha- hope of a bettor life iu him. wvn she so loved him her last words ran: NmNmIv hurt me! I've saved von. Jim!" RIGHTED AT LAST. He as gone then! There was no Itope! His little cap, the shoes and jacket, found on the bank where he had laid them when he went in to bathe filly child! had not been enough to convince the mother that her missing 1-oy was lost to her. Yet it was close to where the river fell into the sea, and where the tide was strong how, then, eould she hope? But this latter news, the rinding of this half-decayed body of a little boy, which the tinder had been . bliged to bury at once this was too plain to be denied. She must give him np. Mrs. Beaufort closed her doors and sat down in her splendid mansion to mourn. Her servants came and went around her, but she would see no one else. Her own kindred were too far away, across the ocean in the new world, to come to her; and she had known these of her husband's people only during the year that he had been master of Beau fort Manor. He had been separated from his friends, a homeless wanderer, and they had cared nothing for him, till old Mr. Heaufort the bachelor lord of the manor, dying, had, to their astonishment and indignation left the great fortune which they had confidently expected would be divided between two families nearest of kin, to scapegrace, wandering Bernard Peanfort. It was for this, then, that they had flattered and petted the eccen tric, cross old man! It was for this they had lied to him over and over, and vowed that they expected nothing from him, and wanted nothing, and came to -ec only hjin, not the manor. They had home his sardonic grins, when he lis tened to their falsehood, only that Ber nard Beaufort, whom they hardly acknowledged for a relation, and his American wife, whom they had never acknowledged at all, and their boy, should inherit Beaufort Manor and all tho old man's property, except the 100 Bf-iece which he had mockingly be queathed his two cousins and their twelve children, all told. It was unbearable! And all because Bernard had had the art to name his boy 5'ln'lip, after the old man. Had not fueh of his cousins a Philip her eldest? But he said Philip had given him no notice of the naming, as they had; had asked no christiening present; and that lie, the old man had heard the child's name only by accident. Therefore, it must have been named from some recol- lection. When the new heir and his wife came I home, the relations pocketed their wrath J o far as to visit them. It was not worth ! wlnle to shut themselves out of the place ! 1 ""cause it was not to be theirs. ! Mrs. Beauford astonished her new rel atives. They expected to see a common I-rson: they found a Jady more highly I red and educated than themselves. An legant form, habited with exquisite thste; a classical face, purely pale; rich, dark hair; bright, dark eyes, and admi rably self-possessed such was the new lady whom they went to criticise and 1'atronize. Scarcely had the bereaved mother mourned for her son a month when a limn er's missive reached her; and she nw.ke to the fact that it was no' only her nii who was lost, but the heir of Beau ,rrt Manor. The relatives and heir had allowed her to stay so long out of regard I " her feelings, and because they would rather she had proposed to go, and they re sorry she had obliged them to re '""'jl l-r, that, by the late Philip Beau rt's will, the property was to go to the on of Bernard, and in case he died (HldW, to be divided between two ousins, the elder having the mannor for ! life, the eldest son of the younger to in herit it at his death. The childless widow rose up and went out of the sorrowful home that had been hers but a year and a half. No sympa thy nor kindness were offered her now. They paid her the moderate provision that had been assured her, and said "good-bye," with no invitation to remain or visit them. She was no longer neces sary to them, and they could resent her past coldness. Even when her husband died, six months after their coming to the pro perty, she did not much seek their com panionship, though they then redoubled their attention, as their hopes increased. Bernard had been an affectionate but a dissipated husband; and if his wife grieved for him it was not as one with out hope. Little Philip, her idol, now two years old, was left her, and she turned to him with all her heart. And now he was gone! Three years old, and so ventursome! How had he eluded servants and mother and play mates? He had done so, in spite of every care. The river running past their park had enticed him, and he was gone. Every effort had been made, search, ad vertisements, rewards oliered, but in vain; and the finding of that little body with the golden hair in cuils about the face had satisfied her. A curl had been given the mother, and pxitting it side In side with one she had cut from Philip's head only a month before, they could not be told apart. Mrs. Beaufort did not return to America, as they had expected. She took a cottage near and lived in it. She could not leave the neighborhood where her darling's body lay, and where his inno cent soul had taken wing. Shut up in this secluded house, which to her was not a home, she abandoned herself to grief, But after a year was past she was obliged to rouse herself. Her health was failing, and the good vicar, one of her faithful friends, could no longer refrain from reproof. Mrs. Beaufort was not selfish, and she was not irreligious. At the call she lifted her head, looked about the world outside of her retreat, and saw work enough to do. At that sight her energy awoke, and she laid aside her lamenta tions. But no one eould see her white, sad face without being convinced that life had no charm for her. And so four years passed. The Beau forts of the manor had taken no notice of her; but some of the country families still visited her, and she had manv friends. Her means were small, but all the poor blessed her: for her kind word and helping hand were better than gold. No one saw the lonely night when she I wept and kissed those locks of golden hair, and gazed at the miniature of her boy's face. One day the widow had been out on an errand of mercy, and was strolling slowly homeward in the soft, rich light of a June sunset. The blossoming hedges were full of singing birds, the trees bent over, the air was silent and laden with sweet odors. As she walked slowly along the road a strange gladness stirred in her heart; for something pleasant had happened that morning. She had met the vicar that afternoon in her visiting not for the first time, by any means, for Mr. Vernon was a friend to the poor, and was also a kind friend to this bereaved lady. But something new had shown itself in his manner; or if not new, it was, at least, shown in a decided manner that seemed new. TheKev. Mr. Vernon had married early in life, and his wife had lived but a few years. His best friends thought that the less said about the latter the better. The gentleman had been drawn into the marriage at an age when he should have been at his studies, and it was a happy thing for him tliat the companionship had been brief. He had not cared to repeat the experiment. With a large circle of friends, and quiet, well-kept house, he said to himself that he would be foolish to chancre. And he had not wished to change till now. His sympa thy had been aroused by the sorrows of the lovely Mrs. Beaufort, and his tender ness by the beauty of her character. But not until within a few weeks had he known how deep that tenderness and svmpathv were, nor how sweet it would be to have that fair face and form to adorn his home, and be forever in his sight. To-dav, for the first time, the truth had broken out. It was but a word. Seeing her look paler than usual, the young clergyman had asked impulsively, "Are you ill, Alice?" It was the first time he had called her bv that name, and the color flashed over his face as soon as the words had passed his lips. But his bright eyes dwelt on her face as he saw the answering blush, the sweet, sudden smile, the quick look up into his eyes, then the drooping glance. "No, not ill," she stammered, "I am very well." Others came hear, and both inter- j rapted and relieved them. Enough had been said for that time. But when they parted Mr. Vernon took her hand in gentle clasp, and asked permission to come to see her soon, and thanked he.i earnestly when permission was accorded, That was all, but it was enough to change all the world for this tender, lonely heart. "How good he is to think of me who have nothing, when so many younger and richer ladies would gladly have had his preference!" "There is a little boy waiting to see you, ma'm," the servant said when she entered the cottage. "He has a letter for you." "Who is he?" Mrs. Beaufort asked. "He is a stranger, madam, and a pret ty lad. I think he is a sailor like, but a gentleman's son." "You can send him to me," Mrs. Beaufort said. She entered the parlor, and in a few moments the messengers stood before her. She merely glanced at him, scarcely moving, as he gave her the note, and stood, cap in hand, before her as she read. It was written coarsely by an ignorant person, and the name signed was that of a man-servant who had lived at the man or when she had been ousted, a retainer of her husband's relatives. It was dated Calcutta, and marked "Important." "Madam: I think you would do well to adopt this boy as your son. Perhaps you will like him almost as well. He is a smart little fellow, and has no bad habits, and he has no father. I have known him since he was two years old. If you want any more information, ask it of yours to command, Johx StiAik. A strange enough note, presuming and inexplicable. She dropped it and looked at the messenger, a straight, well-formed boy, with slender hands and feet. His hair was light, and curled loosely like other hair she had seen. His large vio let eyes were like other eyes she had seen before, his mouth, the dimple in the chin, the turn of the head She gazed on him a moment, like one in a trance, then started. "Heavens, boy! what is your name?" she cried. "Who arc you?" "My name is Phil Phillips," he an swered, with a smile that went to the heart, with a voice that set her trem bling. "I don't know who I am. I was picked up at sea when I was three ! i vears old." "But this man, this John Slade, says he knew you at that time," she exclaimed starting, up. , 4 And he has been away only a year." "Yes," said the boy, looking with wonder to see the lady so agitated; "he came to see me in America, and took me to Calcutta with him, and he has been good to me, He told me that my father was dead, but my mother was alive, and that my name was Philip, but would not tell me what else. He said that you knew who my mother is. I want to find my mother," the boy added, tremulons lv. "I don't like going about the world so. What explanation could be made she j knew not. But with a mother's intuition and that is why he failed as a states she knew her long lost child. She man. clasped him in her arms. She kissed j One more, if you please. Thomas F. and questioned him; she listened to a j Benton said: "My mother asked me recital of all his recollections, and with i every word her assurances grew strong- j er. His faint recollections of tho great ; house, the pony carriage, of many a lit tle incident which she herself recalled all were confirmation strong as proofs of Holy Writ. The next morning Mr. Vernon called to see Mrs. Beaufort, and before he had been with her fifteen minutes they were engaged. "Oh, my. dearest, my most true and disinterested friend!" she suddenly broke forth," "I have such news to tell you; I can keep it no longer. Say once again that you love and choose me, poor and alone." She leaned on his arm, and looked with beautiful, tearful eyes into his face. "I choose you so, my love," he said, "I want nothing with you." She leaned a moment on his shoulder, j then gently disengaged herself from his embrace, and going to the door of an inner room, opened it, and beckoned to some one there. A boy seven or eight years of age ran to catch and kiss her hand. She led him to the vicar. "It is my little Philip come back from the dead," she said, "and I ask you to leave the vicarage for the manor." "No matter about proofs. They were not wanting, and they were convincing. The Beauforts would own to nothing they only gave np and went out of the usurped inheritance. But the servant, John Slade, charged the proprietor with having withheld from Mrs. Beaufort the advertisement which described the child that had been picked np at sea. "Wedid not believe that it was the child," they said, "and we thought it would only agitate Alice unnecessarily." It was a lame excuse, but the best they had. So Mrs. Beaufort went back to great house, proudly leading her and all the people bowed down to and congratulated her, of course. the son, her And when the clergyman, Mr. Vernon, left the parsonage to marry her, more than one noble gentleman cursed his own stupidity, in not having fallen in love with the widow while there was a chance. A countess has just been arrested in Florence for forgery to the amount of 50,000 francs, Woman, Her Influence. The influence of females upon the character, morals and destiny of the na tion cannot be too often noticed. Al though they use means which are si lently employed, they make a deep and lasting impression. Woman works upon the heart; man upon the intellect. Many a man casts himself upon the sea of life, and wave after wave of disappointment rolls upon him. Back he turns from the public, and in private despairs of ever trying to do or to be anybody. But a woman comes to him, with an out stretched arm, to aid him by kind words and sympathy. She says, in her melodi ous voice, a deal of sympathy seeming to come to him in it: "Arise, my friend! Go forth once more. I will aid thee God will prosper you." Forth he goes, and although he meets disappointments he labors on, and after a time comes out a bright, good man; a blessing to hu manity, made such by influence of a woman. When Columbus braved the perils of unknown seas to add America to the world, it was the white hand of a woman that fitted him for his daring voyage of discovery. So woman equips man every day for the voyage of life. Most of our noted men speak of the influence of their mothers, and not a few say that their mothers influence them, put into them the desire to be somebody, to make the world better for their haviug lived. Richard Cecil speaks of the prayers and counsels of his mother, how her in fluence made him better, and closes by saying: "Those prayers and counsels time will never efface from my memory. They form a part of my very constitu tion." Gambetta says his mother made him. His father desired him to be a tradesman, but his mother, unbeknown to the father, sent him to Paris to at tend school. Placing a bag of money in Gambetta's hand, she said: "This, my hoy, is to pay your way for a year. A trunk full of clothes is ready for you. Try and come home some body." He went toSorbomse, hired the t'lieapesi room aim worKea nam. ms father was angry at his leaving home, 1 i 1 11 1 T TT! but Frof. Valet ta mollified him, and per ! suaded him to give his son some money, which he did. It was not long before i young Gambetta was admitted to the bar, and rose to eminence as a man of worth. Lamartine resembled his mother, and was more influenced by her than any man : whom I can remember. She was a wo ; man of graceful figure, eyes full of ten ', derness, and a soul full of kindness and goodness; a woman of more sweetness . than force.- Lamartine was a man of sanguine temperament, somewhat of a dreamer, being in an ideal world; a man i unfit to take part in the political cabals and wanrof the time m which he lived; never to use tobacco. 1 have never touched it from that time to the present dav. She asked me never to gamble, and I never have gambled. She ad monished me, too, against hard drink ing, and whatever capacity for endurance I have at present, and wliatever useful ness I have, I attribute to having coin- ; plied to her pious and correct wishes. When I was seven years old she asked ' me not to drink, and then I made a reso- lution of total abstinence; and that I have adhered to it through all time, I owe to my mother." It is seldom that a man who associates with women of weak mental and moral qualities ever attains distinction. Wo man will always rule the heart, and the heart leads the man. To even- young man I say; Among your friends have one or two middle-aged women who possess noble qualities of mind. Converse fre quently with such a friend, for she now has a firm, penetrating mind, and can guide you over the stony places in your path. Choose not a young woman c twenty or twenty -five. No; be careful such a one may have axes to grind. Neither choose a wealthy, fashionable woman, for the devil in these days means the finest clothes and travels the best roads. Choose a woman from the mid die class, a woman who has worked her way. Such a one will aid you, ennoble you by her conversations and personal influence. The Smartest Woman on Record. Says the Cartersville (Ga.) "Express," There is a little brown-eyed, enthusias tic, high-spirited lady, who, after she has cooked breakfast, cleared the things away, set the house to rights, attented to the call of the breal wragon and milk ed the cow, dons her hat and cloak, comes into this office, yanks ns out of the editorial easy (?) chair, pounces on the exchanges, amputates every item of interest, stacks them on the copy hook, grabs up a Faber, travels it over a quire of editor's manuscript paper, removes her snowy-white apron, shoves up her sleeves, grabs a stick and rule and sets it all into type, reads all the proofs and corrects every error. That's our wife, and she will get her reward in heaven. The lady referred to in the above was Miss Ella Green, formerly of Macon. There are 23,000 feminine farmers in Great Britain, Death of an Old Veteran. The old man was dying. He had been a man of might in his j-oung day, when he fought the Indians and Mexicans, but the present generation had gone by and left him stranded on the shores of time, poor and forgotten. Around Ids bed were gathered a few old friends. His two sons, men with gray beards, well on in years, were there at his bedside, while his aged companion through many long yeais of hardship, wrung his cold stiffen ing fingers in mute agony. One of the sons leaned over, and asked in eager, heartrending tones, "Father, don't you know me?" Alas! the old veteran had taken his last farewell of his loved ones. His thoughts, if any he had, were with the dead, and not with the living. A startled change came over his wrinkled features. His forehead became knotted as with suppressed rage, the dim eyes lighted up with a tiger-like fury, the lines about the mouth were as if chiseled in granite, and through the clenched teeth came the hoarse whisper, "Remember the Alamo!" Several of those about the bedside nodded and the whisper went around, He is charging the Mexicans at San Jacinto." But it was only a moment, and the fierce expression gave way to one of un utterable tenderness. Like a sudden gleam of sunshine on some ancient rain, a smile played over the weather-beaten features, the lips parted, and those only neavest him heard him whisper, "Come, little May; come to your own papa. The sons exchanged quick glances, but said nothing. For more than forty years that name had never passed his lips. She was the only daughter and his pride. He never forgave her, and when she sent him word she was dying, and wanted to see him once more before she crossed the dark river, he set his face as a flint, and never went near her, but he certain lv sees her now. For look! the pale lips move once more that smile of un utterable tenderness, as he whispers, "Come, little girl, get your hat, and we will go out and see the jyretty flowers and the birds." The group of watchers bent over the old man to catch any other message he might have from the spirit-land. A look of great weariness conies over the tablet of his thought. The old man's thoughts take another step backward. He is no longer in his second childhood, but iu his first childhood, for he stretches out his arais like a tired child, and savs, 'Muzzer, I am so tired. Please put me to sleep m your anus, ami the watchers saw for themselves that his kind old mother, the mother of us all, had taken up her tired child, and he was fast asleep in her arms. Galveston ITews. Arguing With a Burglar. It is an open question whether women or men are most brave when "the vil lainous centrebits grind on the wakeful ear in the hush of the moonlight nights," but to Miss Stockley, of Brighton, be longs the credit of an elaborate argu ment, in the semi-darkness, with a gen tlemanly burglar. The young lady was disturbed in her first slumber by the unwarrantable intrusion of a "respectable-looking young man" in her bedroom, who was busily occupied rummaging over her dressing-table by the light of a dark lantern. "What do you want?" asked the maiden, undismaved. "Be quiet," was the answer of the "enterpris ing burglar." "It's all very well to tell me to be quiet," continued the lady; "but you've got my purse in your hand!" The thief pocketed the purse, and pro ceeded to ask "Where's your watch?" Miss Stockley was still alive to the hu mor of the situation. "Oh! come now," said she, "it's only Geneva, and not worth 5 pounds; you surely won't be so mean as to take that." But the thief ! pocketed the watch, and with a courtesy worthy of Claude Duval, remarked, "Remember I will send you the pawn ticket!" After an amicable altercation as to the impropriety of proceeding to the bedroom of Mrs. Stockley, who was an invalid, the burglar ceased "to bur gle," and Miss Stockley went to sleep as if nothing had happened. Next morn ing she gave information to the police conceming the lost property, the owner of it declaring she could recognize the thief, having examined his countenance with the aid of the dark lantern and a friendly gas lamp. On this a young and innocent upholsterer s apprentice was arrested who had been employed in putting up some blinds in the house of the prosecutrix. The supposed burglar, when put upon trial at the Assizes, was almost instantly found "Not guilty" by a sympathetic jury. So the case is still enshrouded in mystery. London Tele graph. Napoleon I. said that agriculture was the body and soul of the empire, and in the height of his glory he gave the sub ject his attention and encouragement, and established in France a department of agriculture. From the start thus giv en this great art France has become the richest and one of the most powerful and prosperous among the people of the earth. Thirty nine out of every forty of her population do not, according to Sir Robert Peel, spend their income, but lay something by. The Way to Wealth. The way to wealth, observes an old author, is open to all who are industri ous and frugal, both with respect to their money and time; for time well employed is certain to bring money, as money well spent is certain of gaining more. Lay down a regular estimate of your time, and what you must do in each particular hour and each particular day, and you will in one month acquire habits of punctuality that will be aston ishing even to yourself, and which w ill gain for you a character for accuracy that cannot fail to raise your credit, the prize that all aim at, but few obtain. A punctual man is sure to be respected, and he is almost sure of thriving and becoming rich, for punctuality compre hends industry and foresight, two of the most powerful instruments of procuring wealth. On the same subject, Dr. Franklin says: Remember this "the good pay master is lord of another man's purse;" he that is known to pay punctually, and exactly to the time he promises, may at any time and on any occasion raise all the money his friends can spare. This is sometimes of great use. After indus try and frugality, nothing contributes more to the raising of a young man in the world than punctuality and justice in all his dealings; therefore never keep borrowed money an hour beyond the time you promised, lest a disappoint ment shut up your friend's purse for- i ever. Beware of thinking all your own that you possess, and live accordingly. It is a mistake that many people who have credit fall into. To prevent this, keep an exact account, for some time, both of your expenses and your income. If you take the pains at first to mention particulars, it will have this good effect you will discover how wonderfully small, trifling expenses mount up to large sums, and will discern what might have been and may for the future be saved, without occasioning any great inconvenience. In short, the way to wealth, if you desire it, is as plain as the way to mar ket. It depends chiefly on two words industry and frugality; that is, waste neither time nor money, but make the best use of both. Without industry and frugality nothing will do, and with them everything. He that gets all he can honestly, and saves all he gets, necessary expenses excepted, will be come rich, if that Being who governs the world, to whom all should look for a blessing on their honest endeavors, doth not, in his wise providence, other wise determine. A Joke of the Banker Rothschild. A writer in the "Contemporary Review" tells this story of a newly made baron of the Bourse : One of the Rothschilds, seated in his study, was told by his confidential ser vant that the Baron So-and-so desired to see him. "Baron So-and-so?" queried the famous banker, trying to conjure up some mem ory of the nobleman. "Yes; and he said you would see him if I only mentioned his name." "I will certainly see him," replied the financier, and so the baron was conduct ed into his study. "What !" exclaimed Rothschild, "is it thou, little Moses ? Sit down, thrice welcome visitor." But the newly made baron had bar gained for a different reception. "Pray do not address me so," said he ; "I thought every one knew that I had changed my name." "Thou may est change thy name, little Moses, and welcome, but thou canst not change thy nose. By thy new name I did not recognize thee, but by thy old nose I knew thee at once. A Cunning Bear. The captain of a Greenland whaler, being anxious to procure a bear without damaging the skin, made trial of the stratagem of laying down the noose of a rope in the snow, and placing a piece of meat within it. A bear was soon enticed to the spot by the smell of the meat. He saw the bait, approached and seized it in his mouth, but his foot at the same time, by a jerk of the rope, got entangled in the noose; he pushed it off his paw and retired. After having eaten the piece of meat, which he earned away with him, he returned. The noose, with another bait, had been replaced ; he pushed the rope aside and again walked off. A third time the noose was laid; but, excited to more caution by the evi dent observation of the bear, the sailors buried the rope beneath the snow, and laid the meat in a deep hole in the cen ter. Once more the bear approached, and the sailors were hopeful of their suc cess; but Bruin, more sagacious than they expected, after snuffing about the place for a few moments, scraped the snow away with his paw, threw the rope aside, and again escaped with his prize. Toung Hopeful (age six, who is showing a visitor his drawing-book, containing alleged representations of a "bird" and a "horse," as indicated in words underneath the drawings) "These are my worst drawings, Mr. Smith." Mr. Smith" Indeed, Tommy ! and where are your other ones?" Young Hopeful " Oh, I haven't drwed. them yet," ITEMS OF INTEREST. A Parisian paper assert s that American ladies are queens of the skating club; that no French woman can equal them in grace and agility. Waterbury, Connecticut, must con tain some tough citizens. The average cost of converting sinners there, accord ing to the calculation of a pastor, is 800 dollars apiece. Although a woman Angelica Kauff man was one of the earliest members of the corporation, the Royal Academy will not accept any of the women's names proposed to them for member ship. Mrs. Crocker, the widow of Judge Crocker, the Calif oniia Croesus, has built a greenhouse in which she proposes to cultivate flowers for free distribution to the poor, who may come and take as liberally as they please. Mrs. Langtry is credited with making "high-heeled, low cut patent leather shoes, short shirts and amber colored silk stockings with bright gold clocks," "acceptable and fashionable," even to those of good taste and quiet dress. Miss Olive Risley Seward has given her rare collection of objects of interest, gathered in her tour round the world, and worth several thousand dollars, to the Art Loan Exhibition in Washington in behalf of the training school for nurses. Miss Jessie Pearl Hilder is the name of a pretty little 7-year old miss, who was recently on her way to San Francis co "all by herself." The brave young traveler went through all the way from Joliet, HI., in charge of only the con ductor. Philadelphia has been rejoicing in a new kind of fancy dress party, at which each male guest is given a character to support and requested to send a valen tine to his corresponding female charac ter without being informed who he is. A machine has been invented in France to make real lace, and the work is exactly like hand work. All kinds of lace are to be made by this machine in different designs, and each design M ill be drawn by specialists, the same as in hand-made lace. Miss Bertha von Hillern, who won her fame as a walker, is now likely to win much more as an artist. She has fust returned from an eight months' tramp on a sketching exhibition, and her paintings now on exhibition excite much admiration. The schoolboys of Paris are being ofrmed into battalions of 600, divided into four companies. They are armed with a light rifle, manufactured express ly for them, with sword bayonet, and are uniformed with trousers, blouse and Scotch bonnet. They are drilled once a week, and execute various artillery maneuvers once a month. There are now 23,000 young soldiers enrolled, aged from eleven to thirteen years, Enterprise in Africa. Central Africa loses none of its attrac tions, or scientific, commercial and mis sionary explorers. Greater progress and more wonderful results are near at hand. The frequent expeditions of in ternational and private associations are daily making that vast region better known, rendering the journey to it quicker and safer, and cultivating a bet ter understanding between natives and foreigners. A company of capitalists has been formed at Zanzibar with the view to a regular service of transport from the coast to the great central lakes, with a sufficient number of negroes en rolled as a permanent staff of porters. This express company, as it really is, guarantees the safe conveyance of mer chandise and luggage, with a great depot midway where travelers can obtain sup plies. And, not least, a check will be put upon the brigandage of native chiefs, who under pretext of right of way, have compelled caravans to pay an enormous tax, at the peril of their whole outfit and of life itself In Royal Lire. The Emperor and Empress of Germany see each other as little as possible. It is somewhat curious how few monarchs do get on with their wives and the wives with the husbands, for they seldom adore each other. The Empress of Austria is seldom seen in society, and wiien out riding or driving carries a fan before her face, even when returning the greetings of her royal admirers. She seldom attends the theatre or opera, but when the circus comes to town is then seen in her box every night. She knows only one passion, and that is her love of horses and equestrianship. She has her own especial riding establishment, and here she reigns supreme. She will drive a tandem team before her at a relentless pace around" the ring, having fresh re lays of horses every few minutes. She has a place fitted up in the stable of her favorite charger where she can sleep if she feels so disposed, and where she frequently dictates her letters to her private secretary, while her favorite horse looks over from his stall and is patted fondly by his imperial mistress,
The Chatham Record (Pittsboro, N.C.)
Standardized title groups preceding, succeeding, and alternate titles together.
March 31, 1881, edition 1
1
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