Newspapers / The Highlander and Shelby … / Jan. 13, 1881, edition 1 / Page 1
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N s k NORTH CNfoUHAPQmoua I V - ? v The Shelby Aurora. The Shelby Aurora. 4 1 fCBLtSIIED EVIRT NE W AD VERTISEUENTS. r. Thursday Morning .1 I-' SPECIAL. ADYEKTISiaG RATES. ,'jV. V . '.fV" j. P. BABINGTON. ) ; . ; : ; : r , sr-ici. ia tm. tm. m. l year . - 1 inch. ......... $I60$400t500$T00$)0 0O 8 Inches. 4 oo oo 8 oo IS oo 18 to t Inches.. oo 8 00 11 oo 16 oo to oo 4 Inches........ 1 oo lo co 14 oo no oo ss oo inches.....'... 8 00 IS 00 lit 00 96 CO 80 00 Fourth comma lo oo 14 o in w so oo 4 ) oo Hall column... 10 oo so oo s oo ss oo 60 mi One column.... 80 W .W oo 83 W M 0u 100 Ot ONE DQLLiAR PER ANNUM, PAYABLE IN ADVANCE. TERMS. i j . i One copyooe year, in aduce..,......'..i oo VOL. V.-NO. 17. SHELBY, N. C , TIIU11SD AY, JANUARY 13, 1881. WHOLE NO. 225. Out coy, six months .... ....4. .... so 1 V; 1 ' MAI, TBI Bt8T 0? if. Whet's the SMof always fitting Ovr Uls that can't be oured ; Whafa tha naa of flodinsj fault with What we kuow mutt ba endured t Does it make oar barJeus lighter ' If wagrtjmblo'nea'.h their load? Better ties oar tlma than fill tt j r Full of aigha and Tain regret j Ovarjaorae imagiaed blander A doe ha who alwsys fret. I , ; WeoVnnot xp?ot life's pathway1 . To ba always atrewo with flowata ; Nor tha time which Ood ha given 1 ( To all ba made of nappy hoar. ' I BtoraWwi 1 follow every, onuhine, Grief be mixed with every Joy j Lhd tie beet that it ahould be aor ; Guild's too soft without alloy. "Hall oar trouble onr invention"' W re to blame for half our atrife r Thent if life la what we make it J Why not make the beat of lifa I The Two Wills. , 'Leave me, Annie, you need fresh Jr. . 1 will stay with your uncle. And almost Joyfully the young girl accepted her release from the confinement of the sick chamber and lining up her pretty rosy mouth to her father for a kiss, she said affectionately: ;Dear, good papa, If it is Dot too much, ' I would love to go and stay at Cosie'sl till teatime." j -' Certainly, my pet," answered Mr. j Al len, with almost unseemly haste to be rid of her. "Your poor uncle Is roi low and if If anything well, if the worst ahould come, he would much rather ha?o me by him.").. . , i j'. Another kiss, Annie took herself away, and her father returned to the sick roots. Where the Irregular breathing of the atck man, and the dim light, gave a sepul chral gloom to the scene. . , . There was not a man fn all N whose eecutcaeon shone brighter than j ' John Allea'4. No church i member ranked higher,1 and no man was more lionized in society. Three years before1 our story ' opens, his half brother bad come to him in deep grief at the spendthrift behavior of ' his only ion, and his indignation was la no wise ulolifled by the wily John, i . t- Til cut him off without a farthing 1" he attld determinedly. ".Not one cent suoro ahaU the fellow have I I paid tea thousand dullara gambling dobta for him 1 last week :i debts of honor, thev cail iheiuJ hut why, 1 can't aew never could ; and that is a Utii a mere trifle If It .were all told. ' You sec, John, the lad would beggar me in no time. Y our religion, teaches you to forgive seventy times seven, ! and kill the fatted calf for the prodigal. I I've dons it, and I Lavent your religion, either;; so , don t preach to mc ; I shad make my ; will to-day and will give all " Td found a eocic.' i ins J tfor to some church, or f" "Confound your churches and your! so cieties ( No if home influence fails, what 'si the good of either f I'll will all to tyou, , John everything I ' You ? are next . nearesi of kin after the bojr, and milne ' shall be yours. " t Joha Alien, on the strength of his ' brotheira promise and. In fact, having I seen that promise executed, enU'ied largely into speculations, and at the time at which - our siory coiumences, reckoning up his profit and loss, found the greater portion of his fortuuo dissipated and looked with daily Increasing dread upon his half- brother s feeling towai d his wayward son. , "I don t know, John," be had said, 'but " I've boen too hard with the boy, after I all ; .1 uiina, some of these uiiys, 1 11 put a ; 'codicil to my will, giving him something if "xes, very gootL do so, answered , John. ''I'm sure I can't beui to aee a father haid to his child ; and the chances . are that if lie promises he will reform, re form he will, and if be don't well; the chances are even.. L ' 1 i v Tha doubtful .if" had the denlred ef feet ; there was no haste? and tb'j relenting parent would wait awhile. And nowj dis esse was here, and the doctor said gtave i "Your, brother cannot last forty -ti&ht hours. v . : : , John Alloa had pr :parod himself for i . terrible itruggle. with the d iug half brotner, and bad sent his daughter away .that she might not be a witness, lie feared . no Interruption from his wile. JNo, poor woman! she had been suffer! nir from a ' disordered mind for years, brought od by ' . . a sudden shock, the doctor could not; tell the cause, and her husband said 1 he could not ; Yet there were times when 1 this man trembled to think of the past,1 audi the " childish, si'mrle laugh of his wife sent! hUu ., from her to the, library, where, loekiug V himself in. he would pace the. tlouT ; and xroan aloud. I t v "Yeu won't give me anything1 from that v lluy- lottle, John 1 Say you will not 1" ... th&poftr woman would sty; ami then; as if feeling obiijced to. explain; John Allen would repeat the story that when she ; was first deranged, he used to give bet v meui cine (Irom a small bottle; that ; wti very bitter.! and. liko a Child, sho icmumuereu it. ' Ttls seemed plausible. No. John Allen feared na Interruption from his wife ; so he turned Into Uie sick room, and took his chair again by the sick kuan s bed. I t f 'JJLn, I haven't felt like this before; do you think l'ui dying P I f "On, I hope not I trust not;" . , "Julin took his hand aa be sjKjke his - pulse Was very slow. , t ) ' "Jolm, you won't mind youH bear DO 111 feeJlng when I'm gone to Know I've made a new will I" L ! "A I new Willi" John J Allen's hlanclied. ' j " ! ,"No certainly not, your money yours, to do what you chose w lillU' -I've hft ail to the boy.' ' "Yesr1 that face was 1 . , Well, I feel better, John;' I thought ' perhaps you might beangry and 1 wanted - you to know from me it's a natural fatherly feeling, eh, John! I And, the two wills ire side by tide In my secretary. . "Very eood." i : - DisuDixdotment was torturing John Allen too much for him to say more than a word or two. Then the aiak man lay quiet J after a few moments he said, iaintly . lthlnklcaaslcea" Joha Alien re-arranged the pillow, and in a few tncmenU the even breathing! gave Dotlot that the sick man slept. Tempted by all that was ba in his sordid nature, the watcher rose and went to thesecretaryj with very little searching he found the two Wills. "I must burn the last," he said to him self in a guilty w bid per. "Which is the last!" There was ho clew. MI will break the seal," he thought. But tio, he could not do that ; he could not get hi brother's ring with ut discovery.' : "It is a,aliamel Jf I had ever thought of this I should have' marked It ; and it was not sealed ; it was unsealed last April." ; He studied both seals eageiiy ; one wass'auipcd with his brother's ring,' the other bore-tlie date December, 178. "Ah I that is the last," he cried, inaudibly, and hastened with it to the fire. . ; ' Before the document bad crumbled to ashes, he heard Annie's voice without,, and a Btep heavier than hers ascending the stairs with her. He hastened to the, sick man's side, and was . in a feigned sleep when Anuio cautioutjy opened the door. ."Papa uncle,",-she said, breathlessly, "here is cousin Horace ; Isn't it! funny he knew me, for when he saw me List i - was only school-girl?' , . John Allen grew pale, very pale; if only his half-brother would qui tell Ilor aceof tltf new will lie rose and wel comed the young man. , " "You have come, Harare, only in time to Fee the lat of your poor father, I it-jir.'' "Ouncle ! Teh mel you d uot think my wickedness hastened this t" t The young umu's' voice was husky with Sobs. ! ': ' ! "No, I trust not," answered John, with cruel slowness. "William, brother, don't be stan led, but here is some one come tc see you." J ' , r ' The sick man stirred in his sleep, ,and murmured .' "Horace I" 1 Yes, Jather." And the lad fell ufon his father's feeble breast. , , "Now I cn die happy if you'll promise to be a yootl tKyl" ': i "ludced, 1 will, father 1 : And in proof jce,here." ne drew from his wallet, as he spoke, a roll of bank notes. '-It's only a snudl part of what I owe, 1 know, but it will prove I have turned over a now leaf, eh, father?" He counted out three thou sand dollars as be spoke. I "Oood-hy I am happy dod bless you 1 am dying. Brother A smile of perfect contentment hovered over the djing man's face and settled there; he never spoke again. , ' .;,('' Every ceremony over, John Allien, who had rather delayed the opening of the will, sent for the executor, saying all was ready, and they soon gathered! in the library. John, so conscious of his good fortune that no doubt harassed 1dm, was very kind to the heir he had So satisfactorily de frauded, of his inheritance. Wei', my friends, said the attorney, "our deceased friend was a man of an erratic turn of mind, aud though some of 'Hon h has will make his peace. j " .. "Certainly I" snid John. He felt he ought to speak like that; lo appear indifferent. Horace said nothing, and the attorney continued "And now we will procoed." . ' He examined the seal ' and then bru'Ke it. The silence was appalling. Aunts,' uncles, cousins, people that during the dead man s lite had kept away from mm. sat ready to substantiate their kinship, as thousands were left between those relations whose tears fell hot and heavy for the "dear departed." ; : "I hereby will and bequeath," read the lawyer, "five hundred dollars to every fe male cousin, daughters of my late Uncle William, whose name I tear. One thou sand dollars to my half-brother. John Allen, who may feel at liberty, in spite of my. principles, to donate it to any religious or reformatory society he deems werlhy ; ana the1 remainder without reserve, con sisting of forty-five thousand" dollars in bank stock, my house in town together with all the real estate situated in the town of W to my son, Horace Allen." The lawyer ceased reading, and there was a general murmur of dissatisfaction. "1 m sure it was very ungrateful to you, jonn, saju one. "Yes, after ail you did for him," said another. , , "Wasn't it good for uncle, papa t "said Annie. j i "Uood, Child I it baa made you a beg gar." ; "Uncle, I shall not think-t-1 indeed began Horace. . ! "A ever mind,. sir I answered John, in an exceedingly brusque mannet. 'lea, but I do mind, and you, too. must. I had given up all idea Of becoming my father's heir. That was nothing , but I knew; sir, that never would you permit Annie to oecome me wue or a poor man and so I resolved to reform, and make fortune to lay at her feet. Hy : house' in town needs a mistress ; I need some one to help me spend my money. Annie, long ago; promised to be mine if she had your anorovaL' f "She has it," groaned Jnha. "Is a year too soon I" . Annie stole her hand in h for answer. At least John's daughter was not beggared. The Difftoranca. A Kobd story is told of a welt-known di vine, now dead. One dav he picked out a cheap bat m a store, and the clerk when he named tho price, said; "But that isn't pood enough for you to wear. Doctor.. Here is what you want. and ill make vou a nresent of it if voull - r- .. i 1 . 1 ..II . 1 t. wear , anu iuu your iriemis wuoae store it came from. "Thank you thank you,V said the doc- . i i - r '. . i it ... tor, jus eyea gleaming wiui pieasnrc at raising, a castor so cheap. "How much may this beaver be worth!" t "We sell this kind of hat fort eight ' dol lars." - "And the otherf Three, The man of sermons put on the beaver, looked into the glass, tLed at the three dol larhaL. -i ' "1 think sir," said be, taking off the beaver, and heldlmr it In one band, as he donned the cheap tile." "1 think, air that this bat will answer my purpose f ul! as well as the best." i "But you had better take the; best one, sir. It coats you oo more." "B-u-t b-u-t," replied the parson, hesi tatingly, "I don't know but per-hapa you would as lief I would take the cheap fVUW WWM w - ST J ( I would not Blind riving me the ; olff trance one, tod leave the other ana perhaps veu bx flvd&lar bilL" i . J Tti Black imkUv. Wonderful in its origin, in Its cliaructer istica, in its consequences, was the great pestilence known as Black Death, which swept half thn people out of ' England in 1 348. For two years previously there had been gfradually spreading over; the eastern parts of Europe a virul ut disease, from Asia, which made havoc of the people iu some of the finest portions of the world. Bo dreadtul indeed had been its ravages that, according to the most respectable monkish writer of the time, many Saracens,, con vinced that the pestilence was a sign of God's wrath on account of their untielief, became Christians till, rinding! the Christ ians to be likewise afflicted, they returned to their old faith. A series of earthquakes, which shook the wjiole of Eastern Europe, ushered in the year 1348; men's lit arts quailed in fear, and many were the steps taken short of draining the towns and pro viding better ventilation with a view of propitiating the Divine wrath. In vain. The plague which hud scourged Asia and the Greeli empire crept slowlylmt surely westward, seemingly uninfluenced, by the coldne8 of climate, or intervention Of sea. Boccaccio bus written in the preface to his Decameron" an" account of the plague as it operated in Florence, which no one ho has ever read it can forget. Within a few months of its slaughter of the Fioieutines, it had swept through Spain, France and O.rmany, and had crossed the straits of Dover. . j From June to December, 1348. there had fallen in England an almost incessant downpour of mm; the ground 'was damp, and the streams became polluted with surface-drainage, which was washed )ike compost all over the country, in default of a proper outlet into a proper receptacle j In August the . firrt case was . reported; by Novmember the 'capitol was reached, and. ' from London the plague spread all over the kingdom;' and, Bays btowe, "so wasted and spoiled the people, that scarcely the tenth person, of ail sorts was left alive." This is not an exaggera tion of what happened in some places; "there died an innumerable tort, for no man but God only knew now many." - Be tween the first of January and July, 1349, the." died in the city of Norwich 57,104 persons; Yarmouth buried 7052 in the year; and other towns in tbo eastern counties suffered nearly as much. In the thirteen acres of Spittle Croft (the site of the exis ting Charterhouse,) which was given by Sir Walter Manny for the burial of the dead, because London churchyards were choke full, were buried fifty thousand persons. The plague was swift in execution; those seized with it dying within six hours, and none, lasting over three days. The ties of nature seemed loosened, parents forsook their children, the dead remaining in many instances without burial, and were allowed to take their revenge on the living by add ing fearfully to that pestilential character ' the atmosphere. Cattle became infected ith the disease,' and their bod'' - j .ml on the i1mW "icT-cncd even by the birds of prey. How roan of the people , 'died it is impossible to t ay with certainty ; but the most reliable accounts state that taking England all tbiough half of the popu lation died. The eastern counties never recovered from the ravages of the plague; places which awhile had been the seats of manufacture became obscure villages, and to this day may be seen in those counties places which in large churches that were once too small for the congregation, have survived only to attest what the villages they presided over once were. Half the population I The labors of agriculture were neglected; the courts of justice were not opened. Parliament was 'prorogued from time to time; the whole business of the couutry drifted lor very lack of hands to attend lo it, and the course of the plague tecauie so notorious that the Scots swore y it. as the "foul death of the! English." For a time Scotland escaped, and the Scots, taking advantage of the weakened condi tion of their southern foe, collected an arm? for the purpose of finishing what the plague had spared to do. But into1 the camp of Selkirk the "foul deth'f came and slew five thousand men, and put a stop to the project of invasion. be saad Ulaat, Among the wonderful and useful inven tions of the times is the common sand blast. Suppose you desire a piece of marble for a gravestone, l ou cover the stone with a sheet of wax ho thicker than a wafer; then you cut in the wax - the name, date, etc. leaving the marble exposed. Now pass it under the blast, and the sand will cut it away. Remove the wax. and you have the raised letters. Take a piece of French plate glass, say two feet by six, cover It with fine lace, and pass it under the mast, and not a thread of the lace will be injured, but the sand will cut deep into the glass wherever it is not covered by the lace. Now remove the lace, and you have every delicate and beau lifui figure raised upon the glass. In this way beautiful figures of all kind are cut In glass and at a small expense. The work men can hold their hands under the blast without harm, even when it is rapidly cut ting away the hardest glass, iron or stone, but they must look out for hmrer nails, for they will be whittled off right hastily. If they put ' on steel thimbles lo protect the nails it will do little i good, for the sand, will soou whittle them away ; but II they wrap a piece of soft cotton around them they are safe. Ycutwlll at once see philosophy in it. The sand whittles away and destroys any bard substance even glass but does not affect substances that are soft and yielding, like wax, cotton or fine lace, or even the human hand. . . i How lv preeerve Vegetables Green A new process by which a green color can be given to preserved vegetables, in- Vented -by M. Lacomt and Prof. Umllemare, of France, consists In adding to the vege tables embloved a surcharge of chlorophyL so that after the ineri table loss' caused by boUins: them at 1300 centigrade, they may still retain just about as much aS when they were fresh. ine inventors ooiain me chlorobhyl from spinach in solution in water alkalized by soda. The vegetables to be preserved are first plumred j into bod ing water, to which a small quantity of hydro-chloric acid has been added, and then the required amount of the solution of chlorophyl is turned into the water,, Lastly, the vegetables are washed, several times be fore they are lnclosea in the vessels, when they are subjected to the usual high tem Derature accessary for thdr conservation. Bpoopradvk GrawUd. "No, my dear, "said Air. Spoopendyke, "just wait until I wash, my face and hands and 111 be ready," and j Mr. Spoopendyke plunged his fists into the basin and began polishing his face with soap. - Mrs. Spoop endyke primped around, before, the gl sa putting on the finishing touches. For the worthy couple were getting ready for the theatre.) ' J "Where where wtere's the towel?" gasped Mr. Spoopendyke, holding ,bls bead down and clawing around with both hands. "What what's become of the towel ' he sputtered, washing handfuls of soap out of his eves. ; Mrs. Spoopendyke glanced at the rack and BttW that the towel was gone.' ' "I don't believe there's a towel up here,'' she commenced. . 1 "What d'ye suppose I'm going to do?" howled Mr. Spoopendyke- "Think I'm xoing to the theatre looking like ; a soda fountain f Gimme something to wipe on, will ye ? Dod gast the soap; I've got my mouth full 1 Ain't ye going to get a towel? Going to let me bang out and dry like an undershirt?" " ' Wait and I'll ring for one," said Mrs. Spoopendyke, telling away at the belL "Be patient a moment.'! 'How's a man going to be patient with, Ids eyes full of soap ? Think I'm going to ttand around here all winter and freeze up t Gimme something to wipe on. Fetch me a door. ,! Tear up a carpet. Gimme a skirt. Where's the bed-spead f Dod gast this measly soap," and Mr. Spoopendyke tore the shams off the pillows, but being smooth they slid around on his visage as though they "were skates. ''What am I going to do with these f " he yelled. "I won't be dry in four months," and he grasped the Bhect and rubbed his eyes as though he was polishing silver. "Ain't you got something coarse f " and he hauled the flannel blankets off and got the wool in his mouth; and finally he emerged with great globs of soap hanging to his forehead and chin.! Never mind, dear' consoled Mrs. Spoopendyke. You're all right. Take this handkerchief and wipe your face." "Oh I I am all right, ain't I ?" raved Mr. Bpoopendyke. "You've; on got to say so, and anything is all ' right. Some day I'll aew your heel to your head and bang you over a roller. Look at that chin. Is that all right t 8ee that eye-! Think that's all right 1 I'll go to bed and wait for a towel," and he spun around like a top and turned over the center-table. j . "Why here,!' saul Mrs. Spoopendyke, "what's this I" and she untied the towel and took it off bis neck. "You must have put it there when you were fchaving," and Mrs. Spoopendyke smiled sweetly as her lord growled away through the rest of the toilet. A Remarkable AolinaL. I uh iaom will bt neither beating nor lll.t rpatmont Thpv on in ... walking a long distance ahead aa a Kde. If the iffttpitt are tired, they atop, and Uur Indian stops also. If the delay be too great, the Indian, becoming uneasy toward sunset, after all due precaution, resolves on wipplicating the beasts! to resume their jou-ney. I ue stands aooui nuy or Bixty paces off, in an attitude ot humility, waiv ing hia hand coaxingly toward them, looks at them' with tenderness,1 and at the same time, in the softest tones, reiterates tc ic to 1 if the Lamas are disposed to resume their couise, they follow the Indian in good order, and at a regular pace, but very fast. for thftir legs are nrery long;, but when they are in ill humor, they do not even turn, toward the speaaer, out remain motionless, huddled together, standing, or lying down, and gazing on Heaven with a look so tender and so melancholy that we might be led to imagine that these very singular and interesting animals had the consc iousness of another life, or a happier state of existence. , The straight neck and its gentle majesty of bearing; the long down bf their always clean and glossy skin, their supple and timid motion, all give them an air at once sensitive and noble. The Lama is the only creature employed by man that he date notfctrikeJ Hit happens (which is very seldom the case) that an Indian wishes to btain. either hy force, or even by threats, what the Lama will not willingly perform. the instant the animal finds itself affronted by words or gesture, " he jraisea his bead with chtmity. and without! making any at tempt toscape ill treatment by flight, he he down, turning ms iooks .lowara Heaven; larire tears flow. freely from his beautiful eyes, sighs issue from his bosoms and in a half or three quarters oi an hour at most, he expires. j The respect shown these annuals by re- ruyiau Indians amounts absolutely to su- persuuous reverence. . u ueu iuq uimaiu load them, two approach and caress the animal, hiding his he id, that he may not see the load on his back. Jit is the same in unloading. The Indians of the Cordil leras alone have sufficient patience and gentleness to manage the Lama." Duusehold xpenee. Household expenses nave increased .: in this country greatly during the last fifteen years, mainly from inciease of luxury rather than from any advance in prices. Parsons are not satisfied with the kind of houses they had then! These are called old-fashioned; they sell at reduced rates, nd are rented with difficulty. They have not the improvements and conveniences re quired to-day; they are often regarded as untenantable until they have ' undergone expensive alteration. Furniture is of very different and much costlier pattern than it used to be, and there is much more of It-' - To build and furnish a : dwelling 'sfinteelly demands nearly twice as large truim as it did from mod to lsyu. we are r- . . . . j . . i t aow in ine anisue auu ueexjrauve pe.nou. and art and decoration are very dear.. Men end women, particularly women, wear more and finer clothes than formerly; have more desires and pleasures to gratify, more expensive tastes to consult! Householders were wont to estimate their rent as nearly one-third of their annual eusbursementa. Now it is barely one-fifth or one-sixth thereof.'1 What was superfluous lias be come essential. Hundreds of things are heeded to-day which 'could! not be had, which, did .not f" exist twelve or fourteen years ago. National prosperity has scarcely kept pace wiU national ex travagance, and most of us tend to reckless improTidooce. 1 1 mmm i i - 1 There never was a muk so ray but some tears were shed behind u. 4 flue IX.a fceve fttory. ! The young Count Giovanni Mastal Fe re tti, a i ativeof Sinigtglia, met and loved at Rome Camilla DevotC the lovely and ac complished daughter of a widow lady, and to whom he bad been especially drawn by her marvelous singing. They read the poets together, and it came to pass that the young nobleman desired to be a soldier, to be more worthy of his promised bride. He applied to Prince B&rberini, Commander of the Papal Body-Guard, and was re -pulsed somewhat rudely with the remark that his slender frame was better fitted for a priest 's , garb than a dragoon's. The young Count appealing to the Pope, Pius VII., was promised ' his commission and spent a happy evening with Camilla. The next day he did not visit her. nor the next. Weeks passed and he seemed to have dis appeared from the. city. She fell sick of fever at last, and on that same day the Count knelt before the Pope and told his story. He had been stricken with epilepsy in the street, With the disease hanging' over him he dared not marry. The- Holy Father bade! him interpret the affliction as a token of the will .of Ood directing his thought, heavenward snd his life to the Church. He sent the young Count a pil grim to the eh rine of Loretto to learn God's will. No tidings came to Camilla, and after some little' time, knowing that a hid den, yet good and proper reason for this seeming desertion must exist, and yielding to the earnest persuasions of her mother, she consented to listen to the solicitations of the Baron Camucini, who sought her hand in marriage. It strangely happened on that samel, evening, while Camilla ami her mother Were sitting together in their qtliet and comfortable home talking over the past and; future events, the door was suddenly opened and the figure of a young man clad in black stood before them. The ' mother of CiMmlla lookiug up immediately recognized the face as that of Count Mastai and gave a cry of joy, but he remained perfectly Bilent and motionless. Camilla's heart at once sank, for she quickly dis cerned that' he was dressed in the garb of a priest. Shei now saw that all was ended between them. The j Signora Devoti, not noticing in the darkness of the. evening the priestly robes he wore, asked quickly. ."Where have you been all this time, and why have Jrou so deserted us?" "I have been on a pilgrimage to Loretto, he quietly replied, "and subsequently to the Convent of St. Agnes where I was anoint ed a priest. The Signora Devoti nearly fainted on hparing these words, so unex pected by her; but Camilla remained per fectly calm, and, forcing a smile, said ia her gentle voice : "It is well that you have come to me; heaven has sent joo m my hour of need to give me counsel and sup port. My brother is absent and I have none other ; twill you take his place, as bis old friend and companion, and advise met The Baron Camucini seeks my hand in marriage ; my mother earnestly wishes it ; Vhat ah all 1 do T Will you now counf el me how to ajt ?n "1 j would strongly ad vise that you: accept him as your husband, " ul.tbe young priest,' "ior .l know mm well aJ-"is jauat amiable and honor able, having eytly quality to insure your future happiness; 1 will unite you in holy wedlock to this man you will love and who will prove a true and ! tender husband to you, and let it be soon; for I cannot tarry long ; I have my mission to accomplish and nave come out to say farewell. In a few days 1 leave for the Convent of Sinigaglia, the city of my early childhood, there to prepare myself before leaving Italy on a long journey as I intend to prepare for and devote va self to a monastic life." A few days later Camilla Devoti knelt before the alter by the side of the Baron Camucini and the holy rites were performed by the young priest Mastai Ferretti, who after joining their hands, fervently prayed that God would bless them and theirs forever. Years after. . when time in its manv changes had placed Count Mastai on the Papal throne as Pius IX. , at one of the usual Thursday receptions at the Vatican, when ladies of ' ran it are presented to His Holiness, the Baroness de Ktnsky, aa old friend of Cardinal Antonelli's, presented a plain and venerable-looking matron, whose features still bore traces or great beauty. She happened! to be among the last pre sented, and on her name being mentioned an emotion was visible in the expressive face of the Pope. The lady bent her knee for his benediction, and, looking quietly in hia face, said With a voice full of the sweet ness and melody of other days : "Holy Father, I have tome to beg. of yu a great favor that you receive my grandson into your Garde d'Elite, They hesitate to re ceive him because of his delicate appear ance ; but ha is well and strong, and most eager to devote hia life to the Holy Father. " Having thus ! expressed her . desire she showed a slight emotion, but casting her eyes upon the! ground awaited quietly his reply. Pius IX., well understood how she felt from hia own past experience, so kindly laying his hand upon her white head in benediction, said in gentle tones: "1 know too well the plain and, mortification of such a refusal, having once experienced it. Your wish shall be jful oiled, and vour ' grandson shall at once enter into my Garde d Elite," After speaking he then quickly walked towards one of the side walks, and inti mated to one pf the Camerieri, Who pre pared to follow him. that he wished to be alone. f ' I ' . . The following day, meeting the Baroness de Kinskr be said to her: "l know that you are au old and dear friend of the Baroness Camucini, and that she has spoken to you of the days gone by, and 1 will ah-o tell you, my daughter, of a secret that un til now has long lain bidden In my heart, but which now the old ; man may release from its prison and consecrate as a last salute to lus! early friend." He then recounted the reason why he had left Camilla so suddenly at the lime, and j why he hiui-taken the priestly vows, following, as he believed, a direct call from God. Tell her now," he said, -itwas a trial the Holy Father imposed upDn., me that I was to keep silence and : give no explana tion ef my actions; that at the time I suf fered, but uod, in his great mercy, or dained it all wisely and well for Our good, and that Plus IX., who no longer indulges in earthly illusions, sends her tnLi last mes aage as,- a memory of the happy evenings spent with Camilla Devon." I , ! 1 ' None so thoroughly over-estimate as they who over-estimate themselves. Suspicion is the companion ot mean souls, and the bane of all good society. The teart of our mi ry often yr vnt our eye ' from seeing the mercy close at nana. ,, Drinking- Vlood. . j It is comparatively only within the last few years that, the medical world has recognized the vital properties of blood when taken by the mouth as a remedy against phthisis, or, as it is more com monly known,! consumption. Recently a reporter vkited the Crescent City slaugh terhouse, below the Barracks,1 New Orleans, for the purpose of witnessing some patients take their' daily drafts of gore, and his visit was not without recom pense. Meeting the genial superintendent, he gave u any 'details of blood-drinking which few people "of our city know of. He said there are now as daily drinkers some three or four ladies and as many gentle men. They reach the slaughter-house by .the cars from Canal street by alxnit noon, and stand near the slaughter pens awaiting the killing of an animaj. A beef is driven into the pen and the door is closed. A butcher aloft on a scaffolding, armed with a long spear-headed pokr, watches hi op portunity and with a sudden thrust, drives the si eel point deep into the . base ' of the steer's brain. The animal, ' paralyzed by the blow, drops to the floor, when a second butcher advances, and after cutting d6wn a portion of the skin, severs the arteries of the neck, and a crimson tide fljws out. The ladies have their large pint glasses ready, and the butcher catches the blood flowing in a pulsating stream from the neck and passes it out, when the patients drink it down while still warm and before it has time to Coagulate. After the slight feeling of dUgust at the first draught has passed away the patients apparently reliaji it .and do not evince the least sign of 'hesi tancy in taking it. . The taste is a sweetish, salty one,r not very different from that of sweet milk, and is likened to that experi ence when a cut finger is involuntarily put in one's mouth to stop the pain. This taste lingers in the mouth for a consider able time, but the blood-drinkers do not complain of it as being unpleasant. - Mr. Dolhonde says that he has noticed several remarsable results from it. One a young lady whoj when she first' went down; looked ill and far gone with con-, sumption. He could mention her name, but it would not be proper. After some weeks' trial drinking blood she began to improve, and to-day is well and hearty. He mentioned several other cases where like good results had come fiom it, but said some came down there in the last stages of consumption, when of course it was too late to do any good. The ladies generally came to his office and he, with pleasure, escorted them to the pens about killing time, which is after 12 o'clock. . -'. The reporter then waited for some of the drinkers to appear, and presently a lady exceedingly thin, with a hectic flush on either check, got out of the cars, and securing her glass, started with her escort down the walk leading to the abattoir. ' A large milk white beef had jiu-t been driven in one of the pens, and overhead with a pole poised, his executioner, stood waiting for a favorable opportunity to strike. The blow falls, the brute hea trembling on the throat hits opened the flood gates of his life-tide. Ihe ladys glass was quickly filled and as quickly handed to her. With out betraying the least emotion she pressed the crimsoned beaker to her lips, and with- j out withdrawing it swallowed its contents and turned away, as if she had just par taken of soda water. There was none of that gagging and, nausea that cod-liver oil excites, and the euect appeared to be almost as stimulating and exhilarating as a glass of champagne. A brighter color came to her checks, and her eyes seemed to gain a brilliancy thev had not before. A Man Witb a Jinrrotr. Clinton Smith was a long-faced young man, about twenty four years old, and his eyes were red with weeping. ' , ' "Some do weep and some, do laugh," observed his Honor, as he polished his spectacles and took a sharper look at the prisoner. .' ! . That's so, and I am one who do weep," was the answer. I ' "What is your sorrbw?" "Everything, i I am an orphan. -1 am alone in the world. I have been abused." Then Mr. Smith pulled out his faded bandana and wiped his eyes and seemed agitated to the bed-rock. "Sorrow and grief are the share of all mortals," mused the Court as he nibbled at a pen-holder. "You had a pretty lively time yesterday for a sorrowful man. One wouldn't think, to look at your heart-broken expression, that you kicked in the door of a laundry only twenty hours, ago and offered to split open the head of the man in charge.'' . I ' "Any other man would have done the same, your Honor! 1 took a shirt there to be washed and. ironed, and after keeping me out of it for a month they said it hkd been lost. They refused to either give me another or pay for the old one. The iron entered my soul." 'Dp you mean the flat-irouT" "No, sin I speak theoretically. I felt that I was wronged and abused, and I.made a demonstration.. "Well, it is my duty as a Judge to pun ish demonstrations. Tears may move the man but they must not influence the Judge. A man with one shirt is no good to society. A man who has a sorrow is a hindrance to business. A man who weeps exercises a depressing influence on the public at larc. xou must be elevated; you have been' de pressed Ions: enough , I shall make it thirty days." ;! ' 1 ' , "Why not kill me and be done with It?" "I do not wish to stain my bands with any man's blood, not even when he refuses lo pay his election bets. You will get fat up there. Your form will round out; jrour cheeks become plump, a new light sparkle in your eyes, and your sorrow will be for gotten. a You. will step forth with lots of time to prepare for Christmas, and where you have lost one shirt you will gain two." Pipe Uau for Tan Uqaar, ' In view of the exhaustion of bark in the neighborhood of large tanneries, and the coat of hauling such bulky material from distant woods, it is proposed to connect tanneries with good bark locations- by means of pipe lines. " Grinding mills and leaching tanks could be set up : where the bark is produced.and the tan liquor convey ed to the tanneries through pipes of 'wood or lead. Iron pipes would not. answer, as the tan liquor would corrode the iron and become blackened. ! The cost Of pipe lines of four-inch bored logs is estimated at $1,000 a mile. It would thus be cheaper to bring the liquor to existing esUbiiau moats than to move the tanneries, FOOD FOR THOUGHT Acceptable prayer heeds not only tho bended knee, but the broken heart. Gratitude is the music of the heart when its chords are swept by kind ness. ' ! Waste neither . small and useless ence. time nor money In pleasure aud In lulx- He Is not only idle who does nothing, but he is idle who might be better em ployed. .Goodness and strength In thl world ar&uite as apt to wear rough coats M '' 94ne ones. - i , j Whethes the pitcher hits the toU or the stone the pitcher, it la bad ibr . the pitcher, Mind not difficulties, but overcome ; them, and go toward in the right as fast as possible. True eloquence consists in saying- all that ia necossury, and - nothing but what is necessary. The highest aud most perfect form of tfoveruuient consist iu jroverMug those frho 'govern. Men cannot be safely Intrusted with wealth until they have learned luluj try and self content. Dignity can but poorly fill up tho chasm of the soul which the homo affections are occupied. . lie content with a mean couJitloa. This ia not the time for the manifesta tion ot tne sous of Uod. The superiority of some men Is me rely local. They are irreat baoauie their associations are little. What is it to part with a friend whom we shall meet again to what' it, U to part with virtue and honor r Wise men are never found to bj un neocessarlly forth-putting, r or over toward to exureas tiUetu&l ve. There is a wide difference between the distinctions of the world and th&e ' of which grace is Uie prfucipio. !s He that walk uprightly before Gd will walk hduorabiy Odtoro men ; aai a sate in evry piaje and condition. Thi re is no wise fir g ji nun that would chaugo persons or condition entirely witu any mil) m the Wvrld. j'hea men do not lore their hearths, nor reverenud their thresholds, it U . du that thev have dishonored both!' A aiu. without Its punish'neut ulm i poasiole-r-aa complete a couo-aiictiou ol terms as a'cau.e'witaout au- efl'jjt. Eloquence is the power Ho trauslara .i a trutu into laauagj perfectly luttet Ugibte to the pe.-ou to . wuom "you peak. - . n . There are always more in tho ,wortd ' than m'eu could sec; walked they ever j slo w ly ; the 'will see it no Utter for , uiug last. . Tue cuief properties of wlsdotn are to be miudmi ot things past, careful f things present, aud .provtdsjttt of tilings to couie. ' ' Tue. shell may be coarse that enclos the Darl... Au '.iron sate uiav hold "ueaourea of goid. Poor men mJyT5" " tMu CtirisuiuSj ' , ? Only let our light be G.od's light, and j.ir darkness Gwu's darkuess, audi we , aiiail be sale tt homo i wneu the great u :gtlfail conies. . t ..'.Neither human applause nor human censure is to be Uaeu ' a the tost; of -ruth, but either should sec us upon' testing ouraeives. - ' ihe darkest day in a man's career la tuat wherein he lauclea there l ho ma ' easier way of getting a dollar than by iuaieiy earuiug it.- if the mind ia wearied bv stud v. or. me body worn by sicknoss, U is well to ie lauow jor a while, iu tue vacancy oi sheer amusement. - A man cannot SDeak but he ludVna uimsell. Witn his will, or attains, his a ill, he draw his uortralc. to the eve . oi other by every word. . As the sweetest, wine is the fruit of t.lid Dreas. au-ara t.liw iimuV nnhliut ueeets oiten the result of weighty e- pjnsiiiiues Keeuiy telt. ' , j , It does a bullet no g jod to go fab t; ind a mail, it Uo be truly a man. 4u uarm to iro slow: lor his trier v u uht All iu going, bat in being. - '. If VOU aro only able to rather tin - v j-c All at la MiumtltUK llrfidtr ih.ivitn .1 em face knowledge, you wut gradually ccumuiaie stores ot wisdom. . A" more glorious victory cannot do gained over another man tuau this cuat. where an injury began ou his pj.r,c, the kindness ahueud bgiu ou ours., S. i'he business of constancy chief! r la ouvely to stand to, and stoutiv to. ' suiur, those inconveniences whlcu are - uo. otherwise possible to be avoided. Man carries under his hat a private tuvatre, wherein a greater drama is acted than is ever performed ou the inflate auge, beginning aud ending ' ui eternity. , " - i V We should aet with as -much enertrv as those who expect everytuiu iroui ' tuemseiVMi auu we shouid pray witu much earneatnesa as th.uM'iviiniin.. pett every thtoij djmoiWi .' Tue triumphs of truth are l!ie i rno'5'i?,,i glorious,' chiedy because tuey are the' moct bloodless ai au victories,, deriv- ia& their hlguest lustre from the nam WJf Ul WO U VI Uig MLU, , j- N j place, no company, no age. no ; pel. on is temptation tree. Lit no ma a ooait uu ue waa never tempted ; let am not be high minded, but rer, tor . he may be surprised in that very lar itaui. wherein ue boastetlinat he wa -jUiver temptad at all. . " ' . ! , iw requires no little, learning to be Jor.cCk, no little studJy to oe simple; and a great command ot UugUige to j plain. It is your uneducated, or at ' Oisst your halt-educated men wno coa touuu their audieuoca witn great pdfl'f iu vl vanity and exhtbiUous of uom oai;( ; ! . .Some men fill the air with their sircufctn aud a weetuess, as the orchards in October nil the air witn iho ripe truit. Some women cling to tneir own aeues like the honeyaucxie over, tue joor, yet, like it,' flu all, ihd reiciu'. a Uu the subtle lragranad of laeif -oodueas. i ".' ', "4 , , .- . Djtudies, like Saints, are never muoti oeloved by jtnelr fellow creatures. Like saiau, they have au ideal psnectlouof man uer Ad dress, and iditaU are ft it co oe Impertinent. To be a dandy la to . outrage the vauity of evary ene who lias hoc the energy to be wakefuliy at teutue to ' detai-a of department aud ws.uute ' - In ! ' i. V Mai
The Highlander and Shelby News (Shelby, N.C.)
Standardized title groups preceding, succeeding, and alternate titles together.
Jan. 13, 1881, edition 1
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