VOL VIII
OXFORD, N. C., JANUARY 31, 1883.
NO. 36.
MILTON’S LA '.T rOEM.
1 am old and blind !
.'Jen point at me as smitten with God’s
frown—
Afflicte 1, and deserted by my kind •
Yet i am not cast down.
I am weak, yet dying ;
I inurmuL' not that I no longer see;
Poor, old and helpless, I the more
belong,
Father Supreme, to Thee.
O merciful One!
When men are farthest, then Thou
art most near I
When men pass coldly by, my
weakness shan,
Thy chariot I hear.
Thy glorious face
Is, leaning toward me, and its holy light
Shines down upon my lowly dwell
ing place,
And there is no more night.
On bended knee
I recognize Thy purpose clearly shown :
My vision Thou hast dimmed that
I might see
Thyself—Tliyself alone.
I have naught to fear !
This darkness is the shadow of Thy
wing:
Beneath it I am almost sacred—
here
Can come no evil thing.
TREATING.
In many polity circles it is in"»
dicative of cordial regard to offer
wine and other drinks to one’s
friends and even casual acquain
tances. In ibis way whatis called
the custom of treating has sprung
up. When gentlemen meet in
places of business or pleasure, in
Wall street or Newport, a drink
is tendered. Whether I shall
drink wine or not is a question
which I must settle with iny own
conscience. But whether I am to
offer wines toothers involves con
sideratiori of their welfare. Sup
pose I could satisfy myself that
both I and a certain ftiend could
take wine at the daily meal or
casually upon meeting, and I felt
no scruple in offering it to him,
ought I not to make myself per
fectly sure in regard to all others
to whom I may offer wine? Now,
because it is utterly impracticable
for me to have such assuiance, is
it not safer that I should not offer
the wine at all? If my own com
fort is promoted by sitting in a
draft,and I may be willing to have
another friend sit with me who
has a constitution like mi 'e,ought
I not to consider the danger there
is generally to peo[;Ie of ordinary
constitutions in such exposure to
a sudden change of temperature ?
And if a hundred friends of mine
in the course of years with impU'-
nity sat with me in my place of
comfort, and my insisting upon
receiving all my friends there
should issue in the death of one
of them by pleurisy, and another
by pulmonary consumption,
would not tlie remorse I should
naturally feel for my sin against
them more than counter-balance
all the pleasure I conld have in
the society of all my other friends?
This is,the point which seems
to me ought to be made in regard
to the custom of treating. If any
reader of this article is accustomed
to ask his friends at times to take
a drink, let him remember that he
cannot know what the ultimate
effect that one drink is to have
upon any of his associates. Let
him remember that the wor^t ef
fects will come to the best of them;
that among them are men his su
perior in every high particular of
intellect, of heart, and of social
power, and that these men may be
destroyed by yielding to the invi
tation to drink. The foolish idea
that it IS impolite to refuse a drink
leads many a lovable man into
absoluto^uin.
If such men would only put
this case on the ground of the case
of sitting in a draft, their difficul
ties might immediate'y vanish. if
it be injurious to me to sit in a
draft, I will simply tell my friend
so, and if he insists upon sitting
there, he must do so without my
company, for he is a man whose
prii^ciples as well as whose man
ners ought to be repugnant to me.
Every gentleman in such case
would immediately change his
position,andsay,“Certainly I will
come out of the draft and sit where
it will be best for you.” It is so
in the social custom of drinking.
Every gentleman, as soon as he
finds one of the gentlemen imper
iied, will say, “No, we will close
the window. No, we will put
aside the wine.”
We submit to all those who are
accustomed to offer or take wine
in company, whether what is said
above is not in accordance with
common sense and the plainest
principles of ethics.-'-Dr. Deems.
REMINISCENCES OF DR. LYMAN
BEECHER..
A great convention of churches
was once called to confer on evan
gelical work for the West at the
Second Church of Cincinnati, oT
which he was then pastor. In this
convention he expected to take a
prominent part. His good wife
felt that he must have a new suit
of clothes, so she went with him to
Luken’s on Main street, near the
present Court House, and had him
measured. The contract was to be
filled the day befoi^ the convention.
The price was $25. On the day
named Mrs. Beecher called for the
new suit. It was not ready, but
would be ready the next morning in
season for the opening of the con
vention. As the Docter started for
the city in the morning, his wife
gave him the money, with strict in
junctions to call for his clothes on
his way down to meeting and pay
for them and put them on. He
must “be sure not to forget,” as
those he had were quite seedy,
and he would not be presentable on
the platform in such a rusty attire.
It was an all-day meeting. Mrs.
Beecher did not see him again until
night. When evening came, and
he returned, behold, he was still
wearing his old clothes, for he had
forgotten all about the new ones.
His wife gently chided him tor his
remissness and asked for the $25,
saying, go down early in the
morning and get them, and see that
you have them on before you go to
the Convention. Just give me the
money.” Money! He knew noth
ing about the money. Search was
made all over and through him
wherever money could be hidden,
but no money could be found.
“Now, husband,” with no little
tremor of anxiety, “what have you
done with that money?” It was a
great sum in those days for a Lane
Seminary professor^s wife to have
The Doctor was innocent as a lamb.
He had no recollection, he said, of j
having any money. And there they |
stood; both were alike confounded.
No new clothes and no money,
what could be done?
Luken trusted them .for the new
suit, but the money was gone. A
long search and much inquiry
brought to light the fact that a col
lection had been taken in the Con
vention, and Dr. Beecher finding
“something” in his vest pocket as
the box passed him, put it in with
out a momenta’s thought of how
much it was or how it came there!
BOYS, GO HOME.
Ah, boys I you who Imve
gone out from the homestead in
to the rush and bustle of life, do
you ever think of patient moth
ers who are stretching out to you
arms that are powerless to draw
you back to the old home nest?—
arms that were strong to carry
you once, pressed to hearts that
love you now as then?
No matter, though your hair
is silver streaked, and Dot in the
cradle calls you grandpa, you are
“the boy” as long as mother
lives. You are the children of
the old home. Nothing can
crowd you out of your mother’s
heart. You may have failed in
the battle of life and your man
hood may have been crushed out
against the swell of circumstan
ces ; you may have been pros
perous, gained wealth and fame
—but mother’s love has'followed
you always. Many a “boy” has
not been home for five, or ten,
or twenty years. And all this
time mother has been waiting.
Ah, who does not know the ago
ny expressed by that word? She
may be even now saying, “I
dreamed of my John last night,
may-be he will come tO'‘day, he
may drop in for dinner,” and the
poor, trembling hands prepare
some favorite dish for him Din
ner comes and goes, but Jofin
comes not with it. Thus day af
ter day, month after mpnth, year
after year, passes till at last,
“hope deferred maketh the heart
sick,” aye, sick unto death ; the
feeble arms are stretched out no
longer; the dim eyes are closed,
the gray hairs smoothed for the
last time and the tired hands
are folded for everlasting rest,
and the mother waits no more on
earth for one who comes not.
God grant that she may not in
vain wait for his coming in the
heavenly home. Once more I
say boys, go home, if only for a
day. Let mother know you have
not forgotten her. Her days
may be numbered. Next winter
may cover her grave with snow.
CULTIVATING HIS MEMORY.
The late Thurlow Weed, in the
course of an interview, was told:
“You seem to remember as well
as ever.’’ “ Better than I did
once, I hope,’’ he answered. “If
I had not cultivated my memory
I should have been a dismal fail
ure. I had to adopt a regular
method, and I hit on one that
was very effective. Some of ray
friends thought I was ‘cut out for
a politician’—that is, I probably
impressed my views strongly on
those about me. But I saw at
once a fatal weakness. My
memory was a sieve. I could
rememher nothing. Dates,names,
appointments, faces--everytbing
escaped me. 1 said to my wife
‘Catharine, I shall never make a
successful politician, for I cannot
remember, and that is a prime ne
cessity of politicians. A politi
cian who sees a man once should
remember him for’ ever,’ My
wife told me that I must train
my memory. So when I came
home that night I sat down
alone and spent fifteen minutes
trying silently to recall the events
of the day. I could remem 1 er
little at first; now I remember
that I could not then reraeuiber
what I had for breakfast. Finafly
I found I could recall more.
Events came back to me more
minutely and more accurately
After a fortnight or so of this
Catharine said: “Why don’t you
tell it to me? It would be inter
esting,and my interest in it would
stimulate you. Then I began a
habit of oral confession, as it
were, which I followed for almost
fifty years. Every night, the
last thing betore retiring, I told
my wife ef^ery thing that I could
recall that had happened to me
or about me during the day. I
generally recalled the very dishes
I bad for breakfast, dinner and
tea, the people I had seen and
what they had said; the editorials
I had written, and an abstract of
them; the letters I had sent and
received, and the very language
used as near possible; when I bad
valked or ridden---everything,
in short, that had come within
my ^knowledge. I found I c )uld
say my lesson better and better
every year,and instead of growing
irksome it got to be a pleasure
to run the events of tlie day in
review. I am indebted to this
discipline for a memory of some**
what unusual tenacity, and I re
commend the practice to all who
expect to have much to do with
influencing men.’’
A GRAPHIC SKETCH.
It was probably while the sun
was beginning to decline in the
horizon that Jesus and the disci
ples descended once more over the
Mount of Olives into the Holy
City. Before them lay Jerusa
lem in her festive attire. White
tents dotted the sward, gay with
the bright flowers of early spring,
or peered out from the gardens
and the dark foliage of the olive-
plantations, From the gorgeous
templesbuildings, dazzling in
their snow-white marble and
gold, on which the slanting rays
of the sun were reflected, rose
the smoke of the altar of burnt-
offering. The streets must have
been thronged with strangers,
and the flat roofs covered with;
eager gazers, who either feasted
their eyes with a first sight of the
sacred city, for which they had
so often longed, or else once
more rejoiced in view ot the
well-remembered localities. It
was the last day view which the
Lord had of the Holy City—till
His resurrection.’’—Edersheim's
The Temple and its Services.
Rev. R. Heber Newton, a
Proteslant Episcopal clergyman
of New York City, has pronounc'*
ed in favor of an expurgated edi
tion of the Bible, and says the
Bible societies should^ circulate
DO other. One can almost al
ways anticipate crankiness from
a man who parts either bis n? me
or his hair in the middle.'-?^.
HOW TO SAVE BOYS.
Women who have sons to rear,
and dread the demoralizing in
fluences of bad associates, ought
to understand the nature of young
manhood. It is excessively rest
less. It is distnrbed by vague
ambitions, by thirst for action,
by longings for excitement, by
irrepressible desires to touch life
in manifold ways. If you, moth -
ers, rear your sons so that their
homes are associated with the
repression of natural instincts you
will be sure to throw them in the
society that in some measure can
supply the need of their hearts
They will not go to the public
houses at first for love of liquor
—very few people like the taste
of liquor; they go for the anima
ted and hilarious companionship
they find there, which they dis
cover does 80 much to repress
the disturbing restlessness in
their breasts. See to it then, that
their homes compete with public
places in attractiveness. Open
your blinds by day and light
bright fires at night* Illuminate
your rooms. Hang pictures up*
oil the wall. Put books and
newspapers upon your tables.
Have music and entertaining
games. Banish demons of dull
ness and apathy that have so
long ruled in your household,
and bring in mirth and good
cheer. Invent occupations for
your sons. Stimulate their am
bitions in worthy directions.
While you make home their de
light, fill them with higher pur
poses than mere pleasure - -
Whether they shall pass boy
hood aud enter upon manhood
with refined tastes and noble am-
bitijn depends on you. Believe
it possible that, with exertion
and right means a mother may
have moie control over the desti
ny of her boys than any other
influence whatever.—Appleton's
Jourual'
A OAT STORY.
At the stationhouse in this city
there is a large cat that has made
his abode there thirteen consecu
tive years, with the slight inter
mission of six mouths, when some
seamen carried him to Liverpool.
Tab,by some means found a ship
coming to this port about eight
months ' ago and accordingly
shipped on her. As soon as the
boat landed the cat stepped
ashore and walked directly to po
lice headquarters where all the
force heartily welcomed him.—-
Norfolk Virginian
THE
Orhpans’ Friend,
Organ of the Orphan Asylum at Oxford, and
of the Grand Lodge of Masons
in North Carolina.)
i PUBLISHED EVERY WEDNESDAY AT]
ONE DOLLAR A YEAK.
It is designed to promote the entertain.
ment, instruction and interests of
THE YOUNG;
especially those deprived of the benefits of
parental and scholastic training. It also
seeks to increase the soul-growth of the
prosperous by suggesting proper objects of
charity and true channels of benevolence, in
order that they may, by doing good to oth
ers, enlarge their own hearts and extend
the horizon of their human sympathies, as
they ascend to a higher plane of Christian
observation. Addrass
ORPHANS’ FRIEND,
OZVORD, N. C,