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THE AT.AMANCE GIjEANER. VOL 4 THE GLEANER FUBUSnKIT WEBKLY BY E. S. PARKER Orstbnni, IV. C, *■■■• ■ Hate*,of tfubxcription. Poxtaye raid : 3ne Yea,r .$1.50 ?ix Months...... "75 Puree Months. $0 Ei'ery person sending us a clnb of ten übseribers with the cash, entitles himself to one copy free, for the length of time for Arhich the club is uiade up. Papers sent to .lilfureQt oDiets• Zfn Departure from the Cash .System Kite* ol ailTcilinina Transient advcraiijcnienis payable in ad vance ; yearly quarterly in ddraucc |1 m. jS rn. |3 m. j 6 m. \ 12 m. i qua re *3 00'*4 00$ 000 '-f>lo 00 8 » | 3 00, i 50l 6 00' 10 00 ils 00 Transient advertisements $1 per square for lie first, and fifty cants for each subse,-. auent insertion. PAPER IS OI» NUT win *r+ *""" JOHN CHAMBERLAIN GREENSBORO, N. C., r »»CT.CAL jltfV""" WATCH Al>ri> FINE WATCHES, JEWELRY, - Ware, FINE SI'BCT^CLBS, and everything else in my line. . v V.-\ .. z f ' (ST' Speeiaiattention given to the repaiiing and timing of Fine VV.atches and Regulators. I olfer you every possible guarantee thai* whatever you may buy of me shall foe genu ine and ;n«t as represented, and you shal pay no more for it than a fair advance on thv wholesale cost, Ooodt ordered shall be fur nished as low as if purchttM'd in person at im c.tauter. I have made iu the hauusoinesi manner, II nir Chain*. (lair Jcvralrj'. Dinmaad uuit Wedding Kin KH, nil kiada of Fiur JclVdrr, 4*old and - Silver H'a'cb t'naca, clo,, etc. My machinery and other appliances foi making the different parts of Watches, t perhaps the most extensive iu the State, eon ucquently I can guarantee that any part of o watch or clock can ho replaced with the ut most facility, % tST 1 guarantee that my work will com pare favorably in eflldiency and finish witl any in the lami. |JOHN CHAMBERLAIN, Wateh Maker and Jeweler. Greensboro, N , SIIIIBII The Dead I deal in American and Italian Mar&le Mozmmeats and Headstones [_would inform tbe public that I am pre -pared to do work as Cheap as any yard in the State, ANT) GUARANTEE PFRFECT . SATISFACTION. Parties living at a distance will save money by Hctdine to mc for PRICE LIST a-id DKAWINGS. To pcrsonK making up a club of six or mure, I offer the Most liberal induce ments, *nd on application will forward designs. , «&c„ or vUit them la poison. 1 I Any kind of marketable produce ' taken in exchange for work." i & C. ROBERTSON, « GEEENSBORO/N. C. Poetry. WUBN YOU'RE DOWN, BY B. 11. ♦ What legidtrs sf "friends" always blws us Wliat gulden success lights our way! How they smile as they softly address us, So cordial, good'lramored and gay, But ah! v. hen the sun of prosperity lias set, then how quickly they frown, And cry out, in tones Kick the man; "duu't you see lie ia down. What, though wnen you know not a cor ro^, Though your lieai t was ae open as day, And vour "friends" when they wanted to borrow, i Xou obliged and ne'er asked theui to i pay. What, though not a soul you e'er slight ed . I As you wander about through the town, j Your "friends" become very near-sight nL ed . . .... And don 't seem "to sec when you're down. Wheiryou are "up" you are loudly cxalt „ ed And traders all sing out you f praise; [ When you're "down" you have greatly de faulted, And they "really don't fancy your ways.' * t Your styles was 'tip-Hop' when you'd mcney, So'sings every sucker and Clown, But. now 'tis exceeding funny. Things are altered 'because you are down.' ,'T , . Oh, give me th« lioart that for ever Is free from this worlds selfish rust, And the soul whose high noble endeavor • Is to;raise fallen inen from the dust, " And when iu adversity's ocean \A.yfr:tim is likely to 'drown. I.EAKM.\U Ills VAI.IK, Mr. Marcus Wilkinson sat ftjone in lils office with a dainty little pcrfum-' lid nolo between his lingers, and a puzzled frown upon his brow. The note, directed in a graceful and iein-, ■nine hand, was brii;f: L)K in GUARDIAN: I will beat the •ffice at tell in the it'Oftilng, to consult you upon a luattur oi importance. . MtUJE. •A matter of Importance,' mattered Mr. Wilkinson, twisting the note ner vously. 'Can my iears be true? Has Cyril Ormsby proposed to my pearl? I ain afraid ho has! And what can I >ay?\iiiatcan I urge against the ■nan, if Millie's own instincts have played her false? Ten o'clock!' The last silvery stroke of the man le clock had not died away when the loor of the office was opened by a •slerk and Millie Beutley entered the room. Just a few words to describe the ! .vard ot whom Marcus Wilkinson aN >vays thought as a pearl, a lily, every thing pure aud tair. She was of me* Hum height, slender and graceful, ivith a thoughtful lace of exquisite beauty. Very young, only 18, Millio Bent :ey had borne early the sorrows of life. Her father, having been wealthy had tailed in business, aud committed suicide. Jtier mother, delicate aud iielpJess, hud fought poverty feebly for two years, aud sinking under pris vatbn and toil, had contracted a fatal j disoase. When allbope of life was oyer, the news came that Millie's un cle, dying abroad, had Jelt a large fortune to his only sister. A will was made by tho dying woman, leav* ing her own too lately won indepen* dence to Millie, and appointing their old frieud Marcus Wilkinson guardi* an to the heiress. Sorrowing and womanly, beyond , her years, Millie had turned from her | own grief to a. noble endeavor to soN acg. some of the trials of those with whom Her own poverty had made her familiar. A cousin had coma at Mr. Wilkinson's requeqj to make a home for his wardj and alio resumed many loug interrupted studies. But a large , portion of her time was spent in the ; humble homes of those who had been her mother's friends in the dark days of her widowhood; and her gentle charities, soon extended far beyond this small circle. She had been an orphan two years on the day when shecame tojseekMr. R .i Wilkinson, as already described/ and the sofrjw* of her life had lost some 1 of their bitter sting, leaving only a gentle sadness behind. i 'Weil, Millie,' the old gentlctqan . said,'what brings to me the pleasure t of seeing you to-day. c. « 'II is about myself,' Millie said, the 1 softest rose tints flushing her cheeks. | s GRAHAM, N. C-, TUESDAY MARCH 26 1878 'Dear me! I didn't know yon ever tooK snch an insignificant person into eon«i d ralion at all.' •Now, Uncle Marc, please don't tease. ighe war.fs something enonnon said the old gentleman, addrest-ing the walls. 'Whenever I ain Uncle Marc, I know what to expect next. But just then the kindly man detect* ed signs of trouble in Millie's face,and the jesting voice was turned at once to one of tender gravity. ' What is it, ray cluld?' 'Cyril Orinsby caiiie to see mo last evoniug, and he will come here to* day; but I wanted to see you first. He wants me to be his wife. Undo Marc, and'—vhe hesitatedyiicre—,you do not like him!' 'Who told you thai ?' ,No one; but 1 sec it for myself.' •vVell, yon are right. 1 do"not like him. But my like or dislike has no control over you. 'No-control I' Mi'lie's voice was pit eous. 'Please don't talk so. I come to yon as I would have gone to my father.' 'There, dear, F was wrong. Tell mo. then,as you would have tokl your father, do you love Mr. Cyril Orms by?' •I think ho is the dearest man I ev er knew. It you could see hiin with some of my poor people, how gentle and courteous he is. you would like him, too. lie has given me so much sympathy in my work, Uncle Marc, feeling, rs I do, that the possessiou of great wealth is but a stewardship.' •And so won your love?' 'My respect and admiration, uncle. I can no j yet realize that a man so no blc and so good can really desiro my "proud to have won his confidence.' 'Hem—yes! BnftiuslsasUs, but heart-whole J'was Mr. Wilkinson's mental comment. 'Suppose you and 1 go for a walk?' lie added, aloud. 'A wulk?' Millie said in a tone of surprise. 'Yes. J have a fiiend or two I should like to have you see. When we come back I will tell you why 1 rtisfiKO Cyi-n Ormsby, if' ho added, menially, 'you have not already found out.' It was nof exactly such a walk as one would have "mapped out for a gentleman's invitation to a young, beautiful girl; but Millie followed its course, leaning upon her guardian's arm, wondering a Jktle, but never hesitating, past tho respectable por tion of the city, to a quarter known as.the 'Factory Row,' a place where Mr. Wilkinson had never before al lowed his ward to go. For there were apt to be fevers and coritagious diseases lurking there. It lay low, and was unhealthy, and the houses were of the meanest description. •For a noblo philanthropist, partly owning these factorls and this qaaiv ter, Mr. Ormsby seems neglectful,' Mr. Wilkinson dryly. ,1 have an interest in the factories, as you are aware, but do not own one of these wretcjied houses. They are all Cyril Ormsby'B. •But,' Millie said, eagerly, 'these people will not let him benefit them. They use his charity ior drink; they abuse any priyileilge He gives tliein, till he is discouraged iu his efforts to do them any good.' 'Oh! step in here I' It was a poor place, scantily fur nished, and cheerless. Upon a cot bed a woman lay. in the last slagesof consumption. She looked tip eagerh to Mr. Wilkinson. 'I hope you are better,' he said, kindlv. 'No; I shall never be better. If IJ may only die in peace, it is all 1 ask. 'Mr v Ormsby will not disturb you now?' 'Jetinte >A» e Yesterday he senc word that if the rent was not ready to-day at twelve, out we must go. I've paid it regularly tor five years, but lie don't tbiuk of that. All Jennie's made the last u.onth she has had to pay for fire and food. She's • but fifteen, aud her pay fc small.' j | 'What do vcu owe Cyril Ormsby?' j 'Thirty shillings.' 'And if he is not paid to day, he | will put.YQJULOut iu the straot to die?' | 4 ife says the work house is the place j for paupers.' ( At this moment, a slim,"pale girl of fifteen came in, crying bitterly. i 'Mr. Wilkinson was outj'she began; t md then seeing her visitors, she cried | sagcrly:»'Ob, Mr. Wilkinson, you c will not let mother be put in the t street? I'll pay every penny, sir, if c only yon will wait till Rhe is bettei', and I can get my lull time lor work! ? ' 1 lave you seen Mr. Orinsby to- •lav, Jennie?' the old gentleman ask ed. • Yos, sir. He said he had no time to hear my whining. The agent wil I bo here at twelve, and if (ho money is not paid, he will put in out.' 'May I?' whispered Millie. 'Just as you please, my dear. Per haps this dying woman or child will drink tip your charity.' ■Hush, hush 1' 'So tenderly, so dolieately Millie gave her charity, that there was only the deepest gratitude ' out the galling sense of obligation.phe left more lliau sufficient tor comfort for some weeks, anil promised toseitd delicacies .for the invalid. No word of hurselfpussod her lips until they were once moro in tho naiv I row street. 'Oh, Uncle Marc,' she said, 'cAti it be true thai lie is so hard, so talsejc me?' ■•Wait,' wa« ilie brief reply. They went into (lie wide court-yard in whose spaces stood the lour great factories, the joint property of Mar cus Wilkinson and Cyrill Ornish)'» long before divided by the entirely opposite management of those two | into two distinct departments —one entirely under the control ot the el der, the other, ot the younger man. •Wilkinson's absurd soft-hcarteds 11088,' aa Cyril mentally characterized it, had made this division absolutely necessary. ■ But it was not into his own kindly governed, well c rdered departments I that Marcus Wilkinson led bis ward. He turned into a small room, where a a lwna mum,' where about seventy girls were -at work before busily whirling ma chinery. •Good morning, Walkins,' tho old gentleman, said. *1 was in hopes j you were iajtfug a holiday.' 'Thank you sir I' was the reply, in a dejected tone. I can't well quit work, sir. There's tho wife and six little ones, you see.' 'Have you told Mr. Ormsby the doctor says that your life depends upon a fow weeks rest and pure air?'. 'Yes, sir. He's not keeping me; but he says if Igo he must fill my place—and that means starvation for my family. I could never get another situation, as feeble a* I am now.' ♦llow long have you been here, Mr. Watkins?' 'Seventeen years sir. I was with Old Mr. Ormsby before you came, sir.' 'A failhfull servant seventeen yeais!' said Mr Wilkinson, iu a low tone; 'and a few wfecks rest may 4ave his life.' At this moment Millie shrank a litUe nearer heiP guardian. Through the window from which Mr. Watkins overlooked the loom-room, she dould see Cyril Ormsby walking biiskly about, his voico harsh aud imperative finding fault here and there, aud scrutinizing every item of the work I Not a face iu the room was brightened by the presence of the master. Fingers worked more rapidly eyes were fastened upon the looms aud every one seemed aware of the stern task-master's gaze. But Mi*. Wilkinson obeyed the mute petition expressed in the looks of his ward, and led Millie out into the wido pas sages again, to another work-room. It were too tedious a task to follow every step of these two as they , passed from room to room, every, where meeting some assurance of Mr. Wilkinson's own hold upon the 1 hearts of the 'hands,' aud their terror of Cyril Ormsby'B harsh- I 11C88. Out again amongst the grand homes, where her guardian had 113 control, but bestowed his kindly charity without ostentation; and hero more eloquently thsn ever, Millie heard how cruel a mockery were all the schemes of charity and philanthropy that had been poured into her ears. In needed no spokeu word from her guardian to tell her that the aoble words uttered to win her'were thoao-oj—hypocmy, which kuow how it could best plead its cause with her. One and another, turning to Mr. Wilkinson as to a friend, unawaro of the torture of their words to the kindly lady beside him, told of cruel exactions of work in sickness and trouble, of cloojst calculation of time of sMiall wages and heavy rents. I „ 'lf we won't live here and pay, we get no work in tho factories!' one said when asked why fie did not seek a more heillhy qnartof. '1 am doing overtime to pay for my child's funeral,'one said, 'for I lost the wages of three days. 1 stayed bv to see tier die and to bury her.' •I am uneasy about tho rent,' another said, 'fur I lost a week by n tall on tho ice, and its hard making it up again.' Not one word of kindly sympathy or holp, in trouble or sickness. The 'hands' under' Cyril Orinsby were simple human machines to do so much work, sick of well, yr pay the price of an hour or days of idleness no matter how necessary.' There was no woid spoken as Mr, Wilkinson and Millie walked to the office again. Once there the old gentleman spoko very gravely, 'As your gnardiau,MHlie. I can speak to. you no word againstCjril Ormsbv He is a rich man, of good social position, of Irreproachable moral reputation, and a mail whose stand ing in business circles is ofthe highest. ' A man wlio is a good match in every 1 worldly sense. So much for your your guardiau. -As your friend, my pearl, who loves v«t as yotir own dead lather might have loved you, who knowß every noble impulse of your pure soul—as tbat fiicnd I tell voul would rather 800 you lying beside your mother than tlio broken hearted wile of such a man as Cyril Ormsby.' 'I came to you as a friend, as almost a father,' said Millie, HCtid 1 I thank you ior keeping me from life long misery. To know my husband. Ormsby to be, would as vou My break my heati.' 'I would not tell you said her guardian, for you .knew I disliked him, and might have -thought that dislike prejudiced inc. .But Millie tell me you will not Jet this day's work shadow your life. You did not love Cyril Ormsby, did you Millie?' , 'ifo. I reverenced what I believed a noble genereus nature. That reverence a mockery, I shall never break my heart for the man I thoroughly despise, Unels Marc.' And'so it happened that Cyril Ormsby coming to claim the fortune ho belieycd within his grasp, met only Mr. Wilkinson with Millie's polite but distinct refusal to resign herself or her fortune to his keeps ing. But he neyer knew how it was that Millie learned the true value of hollow words of charity and philan thropy. WHYME STOPPED HEB PA PER, Bhe came bouncing through the sanctum door like a cannon ball, and without pausing to say'*How d'yo do?' she brougli her umbrella down on the tab|e with a mighty crash, and shouted. 'I want you to stop my paper I' •All right madam/ . 'Stop it right off, too,' she persisted whacking the table again, for I wait ed long enough for the square thing.' She quieted down for a moment as we run our finger down the lists of names, and when wo reached her's and scratched it out, she said:* 'There, now mebbe you'll do as you'd ought to ntler this, au4 not slight a woman jes' cause she's poor If some rich folks happen to have a little red-headed, baud legged, sqint eyed, wheezy squallcr born to them you puff it up to the skies, and make it out au angel; but when poor people have a baby you don't say a word even it it the squareststoed, blackest* haired, biggest-headed, nobbiest little kid that ever kept a women awake nights. That's what's the matter, and that's why Istoppod my paper.' And she dashed out rapidly as she came. Some hotels have bills of fare with the fiy-leat covered with cards of va rious business houses. Recently, when a waiter appeared with: "What will you have tif?" the traveler leis~ urely remark) d: ''You may fetch me a set of new teeth in gutta-percha, an improved sewing machine with lockstitch, a box of pilk, and & pair of calfskin boots." A meddlesome old woman was sneering at a young mother's awk wardness with her infant, and said: "I declare a woman never . ought to have a baby till she knows how to hold it." "Nor a tongue either," qaietly responded ths young moth er. There is nothing moro beautifeil than a lady of eighty or sixteen. Ufatiinp. There is not ft singla wild aniaai so cruel to another wi'd animal as a woman is to a woman.— Jßeade. When does tlio wind deserve re proof? when it whistles though Jthe house.. Ten to ofte it us«d {jp take Eve*, tin ee hours and a half to pick out a leaf green dress to suit her. The lady who gets a new bonnet.is off with the old love and on with. tn,o new. • A. Rochester, pbysicitfn advertises that baselwll accideutsj will receive bis prompt attention. Abont the most uncomfortable sen t a man ctyi have in the long run is self-conceit/ More than $400,000 in gold and notes were found in Pius IX,'s aparts .nent. The entire amount he has left is «stimated at near 25,000,- 000. j •A wealthy Newburyport man fearful that his relatives uiay try to put him into > lunatic asylum, htts provided himself with several physi cians -certificates th&t he is Baue. ' An everlasting Nqw reigns in Jna ture, which hangs the same roses on our bushes which charmed the Koman and the Chaldean in their hanging gardens.- -Emerson. : *1 thought you told me that- 'a tever was gone off,' said a gentleman, 'I did so,' said his companion, but torgot to mention that ho went ofi along with it.' .• As soon as a man starts out for 0 „ r...... ——l ■ I.*- »■■■ -"VfTflr, As soon as a woman starts In the same business, she cats hers ofl short. •'When I put my foot down I'll have you to understand," said Mrs. Ndjoker, "that there'* something there." On investigation it was found to be a No. 11 shoe. A Western paper, which one day recently noticed the opening of a new whiskey store, • the next day apolo gized for the brevity of its local col umn, because "the reporter was i.f* He had assisted at the opening. It was an old fashioned tar heel from Zob Vance's neighborhood, who said "If this is the dollar of our old d».d, the old man kept it scandalously bright, somehow."— Columbia Regis* A well-known professional, not renowned for politeness, saw an Irish artisan waiting in his hall. "Hello, you fellow, do you want me?" "No, ye'r honner, lam waiting for a een tlcmanl" b The tomato is one of the most powerful aperients and in all affeo tious of the liver, where calomel is c generally used, it is the most effect i ive and least harmful.remedial agent ■> known to the profession. i What a glorious world this would be, if all its inhabitants could say with Shakespeare's Shepherd, "Sir, I j am a true laborer; I earn what'l ; wear; I owe no man hate; I envy no » man's happiness; glad of other men's l good; content with my farm." , "The girj« of ottr day are Very badly educated," said one of the members of a committee on education to the Biuhbp of OloncesSer. "That cannoc bo denied," retorted his lordship. "However, there is one consolation, the boys will never End it out." A mother whosO crying infant made^ the sermon of her pastor al most inaudible was going from tho hill when the clergyman spoke up, saying; "My good woman don't go away. The baby doesn't'disturb me?' "It isn't for that I leave, sir," was her reply,. "Its you disturbs the ba by." "What," an exchange asks, "are the causes of drunkeness?" Well, we can't answer for all of there, b«t WH believe whiskey causes a great deiil of it. Whisky, sir, resolutely, stuck to, will cause about as large a drunk as anything we know of, &U though a judicious mixing upot vari ous drinks accelerates matters, jf a man is in a great hurry.— 'Burlington IZawkeye, 1 An old ladjr living in Springfield has a very high-tempered boy. A. day or two since he>came in and aik ed permission to go down street to see the array of presents in the shop w i n . dows. Iho mothers refused and tho boy, went through the house slams ming the doors after him with terrific force. The old lady calmly remarked "Pears to me Jimmy's doin' n Q' wooden swearin' this mornin'." NO4.
The Alamance Gleaner (Graham, N.C.)
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March 26, 1878, edition 2
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