THE ALAMANCE GLEANER
—' ' " -■ i • %
VOL. 3
THE G.LEA KEK
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'•BOARD
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ft
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tor.
surpassed by no honse In the
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fronting the Capitol Square,
The National is located within fifty yards
of tbe State House, it Is the most convenient
attractive and pleasant headquarters for
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Terms are low to suit the times, fare unsur
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Wth, 1878.
Poetry.
—
"COD KNOWN!"
Oli! wild and dark was the winter night,
When the immigrant ship went down,
But just outside of the harbor bar,
In sight of the startled town!
The winds howled, and the tea roared,
And never a soul C"«ld sleep,
S ive the little ones on their mother breast
To t young to watch and weep.
All day Ihe catchers paced the simdt—
All day they scanned the deep;
All night the booming minute guns
Echoed from steep to steep.
"Give up thy dead, oh, cruel sea!"
They cried athwart the space;
But only a babe's fragile form
Escaped from its stern embrace!
Only one litt'e child of all
Who with the shij> went down,
That night, when the ha| py babicßslcpt
So.warni in the sheltered town?
Wrapped in the glow of the morning light,
It lav on ?he shifting r.and.
A* fair as a sculptor's marble dreaoa,
With a shell in its dimpled hand.
Therlfwere none to tell of its race or kin;
"God knoweth," the pastor said.
When the sobbing children crowded to ask
The name of the baby dead.
And so when they laid it away at last
In the churchyard's hushed repoap,
They raised a stone at the baby's head
With the carven wordi—''Ood knows!"
—JUI'MLC. JR. Dorr, St Nicholas for
April.
Deacon Jahiel.
Deacon Jahiel iiraden was n eoN
emn, industrious, upright man, but
was as kind as one well could be who
had lived so far apart from his fellows
as lie Sad.
In his youth he had been one of the
rural dandies of the region and the
chief beau of his native town, driving
the fastest horses and leading off at
all the village sports, whether balls,
quiliin»s, weddings or si igh-ridcg.
When abont twenty five years old,
however, a sudden blight had fallen
un hisspiiits tor which no one could
account.
ile hud danced half the night in
wild glee at a wedding, played gajnes
of all sorts, helped to servo the guests
from bountifully-laden tables, kissed
tiie bride, gave her as a wedding pres-
ent his best cow, with a white heart
shaped spot on her'lorehend. and then
went home full of Next in >rn
ing he looked as if fifty years hail
been added to his age.
lie now put himself to work earn
estly laving out cranberry meadows
am] raising live stock, lie withdrew
Irotn liis old companions as if the
sight of them burnt his eyes, unless
he could help one ot thorn; then he
came out of his shell, but returned
to it as soon as tne emer o encv was
over.
Some ot the neighbors thought his
mind affected; some said he had re*
pen ted giving Matilda Day the cow
he was so proud of, and others decid
ed that he meant to turn over a ntw
leaf, having sown all his wild oat*,
and become a sober, settled man.
S'.il! more were the townspeople sur#
prised when, some months after, he
joined the chuich,and "took up," as
he said, ''an orderly walk."
If the saintly old Mother Brad en
knew the spring of these actions she
kept it to herself. _ When questioned
she only replied in her quiet way;
•'i'ejoice with rae that this, my son,
who was lost is lound; wlr> was dead
is alive again."
Thus Jaliiel moved oa, cherishing
and blessing bis mother, and clearing
and cultivating the hitherto useless
land ou tbe tarm, till death left him
Ketury Perkins, his mother's life-*
long helper, alone in tbe great broad
farm-house.
His brother bafl married, gone
West, made a great flourish in some
patent business and failed, lie came
back after this and set dp a store, and
failed agai.... Then "be wen t back to
honest farming, twenty miles away.
Here he wearied for luck of the ex
citemeut of •'lailiug*' and died, leaving
a very helpleprfamily,
Jaliiel Biadenwas a man of very
tew word*, and was slow in uttering
those tew hut when action was need
ed he was us prompt as anyone, lie
went io tbe funeral in the blue swaU
low tail coat, with gilt buttoua and
; the samer buff vest he had on at his
last dance. They were still bis
best.
A« soon as fhe funeral was over,he
■aid to liib sister-iu. law:
"1 fear you have nothing tojiveon;
come to the bomeetoad as if it were
GRAHAM, N- C.,TUESDAY, MAY 1 1877
~ ■>,...•= • • , > 7 -
yotlr own, and bring up your girls to
1)0 useful women. I'll semi 'I Imothy
over next week with Stav nud Bnck
fin- your goods. I'll Co nc In the cov
ered wagon lor you nil, and ii there
are any bills at tlicslorc I'll pay ihein.
I'll see to th! doctor and funeral ; BO
drop nil cure from your mind and try
to be happy.
•laliiol Brudcn had grown to be a
very careless man. in n certain sense
of the word. Although neat and 01-
derly in bis persoi., in his house nnd
on the farm ho had lahl at.idt) »il the
restraints of society. He came lo the
t!iOle in .lis shirt sleeves, and tome*
times in his stocking tent. 110 went
upstown and even to church with bis
pants tucked,',in his cowhide ooots.
Once he so far foi got himself as tJ
put 011 a clean farm-frock on Sunda\
instead of Monday, laid a good coat
;.f mutton-tallow on his boots, tuck
ed his butier-nut-coleied pants into
them and in this plight, took up the
collection, (or by this time, he was a
deacon. This was to the no smali
delight of the boys in the gallcn
who were always glad foi some orth
odox subjoft for langhtei' during the
time of servicfe.
Kctury Perkins ras just as inde
pendent of the world's opinion as wn*
her master, and she did as many odd
tilings by way of shocking its sense oJ
I ropriety as he did through absent
mindedness. She more than once
presented herself at church in a clean
sun bonnet and calico sack, and en
joyed the staring of the people be
cause she had a black silk gown, a
cashmere shawl, a straw bonnet, and
a black lace veil at home, "as good a*
Miss Deacon Jones', any day!"
You may be sure she did not par
ticularly like the idea of a lady com
ing to take her place, "\yith three cit
ified girls full of airs." However,
she was not consulted in/he matter,
and bad too much sense to throw
herself out of a home, so she made
.the best of the invasion.
Deacon Jahiel had a great respect
foi good women, and from the hour
• hat his brother's family came under
his roof ho donned his coat before
coming to the table, and even went
so far as to buy a pair of sli; pers. He
threw open the long unused. parloi
and said to the girls, "Make yourselv
es at home there - '*
He 803H found there was a great
lack in his establishment, by ovei
tiCMiing his nieces lament ttio piano
they had oat West, lie never spoke
of it but engaged the minister's wife
to go to town, aud select one for
him. The first the music-hungry
children knew, it was brought into
the house: aud still he never spoke
"of it. Indeed he rarely spoke of any
thing at all.
The family lived on thus very haps
pily for several years, when all at
once they noticed a great change in
Deicon Jahiel. He began to whistle
at his work, and to sing with tin
gi>ls; lie bought a new carriage—
Kettirv described it as a "carriage
like tolksea carriages," he even got t>
violin and checker-board from the
garret, and for the first tiinein twen
ty years played on tlieui both with
Zealand interest.
Passing down the main etreetottlie
village, one day, he saw a buxom girl
at the window, aud loaning over the
fence he called out:
'•Jdartna, 1 hear there is a quilling
coining before long at your
house."
"Yes,sir; the quilt is my own
work—a rising sun, with a square and
compass in the heart of it. Mother
said it I eve* got it done I should
have a quilling just like those «he ut>«
nl to have when she was young," ic
plied thcg : rl.
"Ain't you going to invite me, Mar
tha?" waf> the ii jxt question that star
tied tl"? Tidage girl.
"Why, deaconT' she cried, looking
at the hitbcito grave u«an, to discern
if he had takea laave of his sense*.
"You go to a youni; folks' quiltinir?"
"Certainly I will, if I'm asked,"
said tbe deacon, smiling. "Your
mother can tel! you how expert I us
ed to be at clutlking the line, snuffing
tbe candle*', and' llirowi'tg the apple*,
paring, in old times." t V
Of course he got an invitation, and
before many hours had elapsed it was
poised abroad that Deacon Braden
was going to dance at Mattie Borlands
I quilting l.*r : y, and that tbe folk*
thought him going crazy.
For thv first time in a quarter of a
century tbe deacon set off tor a trip to
• Boston,and,as came
back made all over at v!" From tbe
crown of bia steepled-topped bat
to tho sole of his cow
hides he was renewed in the outw
mtui. IJo had gouo HO far as i
exchango his ponderous ikw watcl,
tor a gold one. In place of, the po»>
colniii Bliirtsbtitto»n wi*h which
ICentury hmt always adorned his
cotton shirts, the de»eoti appeared
with gold tltuls in ..t nice Iv* polished
linen shitt hi sou), gold sJuorc but
'""l divers other worldly vuui
rtcfi such as made n, great juir i» n,,
Cedar (Jteek meetinghouse; but i.
w«s - oi.ly -becatuo lie wore a.ich
ilotlies; others there had alwarv
tl esm das well. You may be mrt
that the young t'olkes stared at him
as ho cat ihnl, with Air. a"nd Mrs.
Borland looking oil at the sports, and
iie question was whispered l'rotn one
to another:
"What on earth IDS come qyer D»a
con Jaliiel?" , . rAm ,„ ; iU:
They soon found (hat autumn sun
had come oat in brighter rudiunct
than its oarlier glory, an I that life's
Ind an summer had come for him
with bright skies, with flowers, ami
with the singing of bird* in the
heart.
One tnoruiug, ' soon alter this,
the Deacon called his sister-in-law
and her daughters into the parlor, and
said:
•'I havo a plan, to lay bef>ro you
[ shall need this house tor myself now
You may livo beside me in the stone
cottage, or I wi. 1 build you a little
uouse in the village."
"We will stay as near you as we
can; but who is to lake my place?"
Risked the widow in amazement.
"You remember Matilda Day, the
girl to whom I gave my pet cow.
Dilly, oil her wedding day? A few
weeks ago i heard ot her for the first
time many long years. lier hu*»
oand was never worthy of her. lie
rati through her proper!> ami hieown
and then took her into the wi.dirties*
10 live, away trotn all privileges ol
-choois, chuivhes and society. She
buried her oldest children and was
•eft alone and very poor with three
young boyß.
Frotjri boy hoed up I had always ex
pected to niurry Matilda, but I wa•
too slow iu telling her so. The rich
farmer fr dfti the next town stepped
iti and married Hit only woman J ever
loved. 1 choked down my grief, held
up my head, gave her my best cow.
' lance./ at her wedding, kissed bel
aud wished Iter much joy, and then
went home with a broken heart, it
was a long time before I could bear
JO see the "tin shine after that. Life
•nd all around me was changed, I lit
just my mother. But God came and
brought peace and life, and then 1
sought to do all I couid for others
t»r His sake. As time went on the
healed, but the**car remained
I kne\\ 1 was a stupid awkward man
in the esteem of others amf >0 I kept
out of the way except when duty
called me forward?- 1 had forgotten
that the world itself, had uny charm*
until you catne here and brought the
fresh air and sunshine to these dark,
dull rooms. When you brought the
rjse geranium iu ful' hlooui it took
uie back twen y-five years, when one
jn«t like it sto«d iu Matilda's window
Tue songs which the girls slug aie
the same she sung, newly arranged
•lid with new name*.
" Vnt many weeks ago, I hat, ns
you know, some dealings with Car
ver, the IKrslern man who stsyeil
over night with u«. In talking with
him. I said:
"I suppose you never happened to
inert wiifi a niacin >our 6tate nam
ed Wattcrson Blake?'
"Certainly 1 have a thousand times.
Did y>n know him?' he asked.
"When 11old liim he was almost a
townsman »f mine, he said:
"Poor fellow! he made a sad wreck
of bright prospects, lie died poor,
three years ago, and left his wife and
three boys in a sad condition; but she
is a jewel of a woman, Everybody
loves her and all would have boen
glad to help her, tat she had some
iudependece, which she wished to ins
stil into the liearls At her boys. So she
eave the encumbered farm over to
Blake's creditors, moved into the
next town and set op a school for
little girls.
'•Ueiore lie went away Ihe next
morning, 1 drew a check f-»r a
hundred dollars and sent it to
tlie boys 'from an old schoolmate of
his mother's',* and resolved to deviae
some plan which to start them in
life.
"The mora I thought of it the more
I resolved that Matilda Day would
make the world new lor me yet; aid
I wro'e and told her so.
[__ Next month I atn going West t
biing her and the hoys home. I want
•you to stay with us till you got a ht»mc
of your own. I can never be thankful
ma ugh for your coming to me. It
lias broken tlie dreadful spell tint
hound me and brought toe back 'o
live amoug others before I only work
ed for them at arms-length. Now thai
I h>ve all the worjd more, my life
will hencMoftli be ofmore service
'1 he old cbitago repaired
I:id furnished B.'K©? DOHCOII ' Jtihh I
not off on his luoineutns journey; ut d
tie widow and hor daughters, now
nearly grown up, were rejoicing in
the prospectot a now neighbor and
friend
Mali Ida R'uke. although a ninturr
woman of almost forty-four year*.
Drought buck more sunshine Minn she
(mil taken away from her native place
t quarter of a ceiitnrvbvf re. Her anx
idles and soi-'-ows had «ofteiied ami
brightened tlic natural loveliness ot
tier character, and tptide her a bless
nof onlv to the farm, but also to the
church at.d tonn.
Indian summer has indeed coine to
the deacoifs liitherlo clouded lite.
HI d his heart and Ids h »u>«o were open
af esh to the whole world. Ue lookeu
h-ntefortb tnorc lieutly on the follies
of the young and more charitably o:>
the errors of those who had waiid"ied
irotn the right way., Ills voice,
his features. gait—lndeed tin
whole uian—were ct>anged from a
rtleiuir, unsyiupathiziug bachelor,
as he lined to be regarde , to a gen»
erotis husband, father and friend.
There h nothing like a solitary life
t> fix a perpetual whiter in the heart
There is nothing like a companionship
with the good and trm who need aid
and sympathy, to brthg back summer
—though it may be au Indian Mini*
nier— to the heart.
MRS GAINES'S $35,000,000.
THE IttSTORY OF A LAWSUIT INVOLVI? O
PAUT Of THE CITT OF NEW OItLEANt.
A dispatch from New Orleans
announces that fudge Hillings, of the
United States District Court at that
place, has rendered a decision iu tne
case of Mrs. Myra Clark Gaines, who
• liiims several million dollars' worth
of properly iu that city, in favor of
the claimant. This is a phase of on*
of the longest and most } interesting
liiwguits in the annul* of Amerie n
jurisprudence. Tlia history of the
Paso i« briefly as : Mrs.
Gaines is the widow 0 f General R!-
mund Pendleton Gaines, aud was
horn in New OrleauM in 1805. Her
lather, Daniel Clark, WHS born in the
Ceunty Sligo, Ireland, in 1706, and,
emigrating to New Orleans, inherit* d
a considerable property from b'a uncle
in 1799. 'Before the acquisition of
Louisiana lis was an American Con
sul there, and represented the terri
tory in Congress in [BO6. In Au
gust, 1813, Daniel Clark died, and
his projterty was disposed of under
a will dated May 20, 1811, which
gave the bnlk of hi« estate
to his mother, Mary Clark,
who was then living in Germantown,
Pa. He was also snp|N>spd to be a
bichelor, but wai known lo have bad
a liaisoi* with a very beautiful young
Creole. Zulime dt-s Gr.nges. Two
daughters were born of tbis Conner,
tion, one at Philadelphia in April,
1802, and the other. Myra, at New
Otleans in 1805. 'il;e latter was
taken to the house o' Colonel Davis,
a friend of Clark'#, nursed by a Mrs.
Harper, md grew up in Philadelphia,
where she was known as Myra Davis,
In 1830 M.. Davis, being then a
memlerof the Pennsylvania Tegia
la.ure, sent home lor certain paper*,
and, in searching for these Myra dis
covered some letters which partially
revealed tlilkecnt of her birth, and
laid the foundation of the lawsuit
which haa since become famous.
In 1832 she married W. VV. Whit
nej, of New York, who, following np
the discovery made by his wife,
'Securq;! from Colonel Davis an old
letter which gave an account of a
will made by Olark in 1813, jmt
before his death, giving all bia largo
estate to Myra, and acknowledging
4ft hi* legitimate daughter. Mr. and
Vim Wiiitn"V went immediately to * '
uliHj.und iliere, aftea a iong search,' '
iiscove.ed the writer of the letter,
ana, with the evidence given by him,
Degan suit in New Orleans for t&*
property of Paniel Clark, which bad
in the meantime, become itnm«iwely
valuable, aud incflldfed a grant pait ef
the present business quarter of the
city. On the trial of this suit the
litre. Karper iibord mentioned teati\
dud that four weeks before his death
• 'lai k showed her the will he hi**
made in favor of Myra, anckno#l*
tidied the child's legitimacy. Bason
Jo Boistontaine testified that Clark
uad made tLbwmo statements to bim
On this Hud other coiroboraiive evi*
•letice the lost will was received by
die Supreme Court of Louisiana on
tTebruary I{», 1856, as the last will
and testament of Daniel Clark,
though the document itself could not
•*> found. The. objection was then
.nteqiosed tliut by the laws of Louisi
ana H sesta*or could not make devisee
to his audulterine bastard. On this
point, however, two sister* of Myra's
mother testified that Zulime dec
i J ranges was privately married to
Clark in their presence in Philadek
phia in 1803 by a Catholic priest, it
uuviug been learned that Zulime's
reputed husband, Dcs Granges, had
ano'her wife living, and was therefore
not legally married. In another
unit growing out of this difficulty the
United States Supreme Court decided
that tht marriage aud legitimacy of
Myra were established.
In the meanwhile Mr. Whitney
died, and his widow married General
Gaines, whom she has also outlived.
Assisted by the General, Mrs. Gaines
continued her litigation, end, in 1856,
in the Bupreme Court of the Uuited
States, filed a bill in equity to recov
er valuable real estate, then in the
possession of the city of New Orleans,
and a decision in her favor was ren*
dered in 13t»7. The value of the
pro|>erty claimed was estimated in
1861 at 935,000,000, of whnh Mr*.
Gaines had up to 1874 obtained pos»
xuasijn of some *6,000,000. Nuin*
erous actions of ejectment against
individual parties have followeJ, and
it is no doubt one of these that
Judge Bdlings has now decided in
Mrs. Gaines's favcr.
The heroine of this romantic story
in a little, black-eyed lady of ovftr
seventy, who still retains retain*
tr tcos of former uncommon beauty.
>he is well educated, quick and
c Himgeou*. Her long and varied
e*(>»rience in the law court*, has
given her a legal education of no
roeau character. On several occas*
sious, and notaUy in the Supreme
Court of the United States in 1861,
nbe has pleaded her own cause per
sonally aud with remarkable success.
The ugh at the time of General
Gaines's death a wealthy woman, she
has often been in financial straits, for
she haa »j>eiit several large fortunes
in proeeouting her claims. Tbs
witter has often seen her, as recently
as 1871, walking the streets of New
Orleans in the plainest clothes, and
i with her inevitable little black beg on
b r arm, looking far more like a cook
place than like the
heiress to 435,000,000. Ths prop*
erty now kuown as the Hoainaa
Plantations and Iwlonging to Mr.
John Burnside, of Nfew Orleans, waa
at one time part of the Gaines estate,
and was sold, with the slaves on if,
to General Wade Hampton, of South
Carolina, in 1812, for |500,000.
When Mrs. Gaines succeeds in getting
possession of all the property award
ed her, she will be the wealthiest
person in New Orleans, and
the richest woman in tbe world.
I . 1 1 ,.,, ■ ■
Said a local exl o ter who hul the
hat# of adding '*»h\ to mai.j ot his
words: "My dear brethren, listen to
the words ot an old uiau-ah, who baa
one foot in the gruve-ah and th« oth
er all but ah !"
The sweet timid, grass is coming
up through tite gray landscape, and,
with the baby fingers ot' spring, ia
feeling for cow's teeth.