Newspapers / The Alamance Gleaner (Graham, … / June 11, 1878, edition 2 / Page 1
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" VOL 4 THE GLEANER igjpv publish ki> weekly bt E. S. PARKER tSmliam, W. C, .»+■»"' - Rate* of Subscription. Postage Paid : On* lcui » Rix Months • -• •• Three Months Every person sending ns a club of ten sub scribers with tlie cash, entitles hiniself to one copy frqp, for the length of time for which the club is made up. Papers sent to different offices J?0 Departure from the Cash System .r■ • ' , Rule* Advertising Transient advertisements parable in advanpc: yearly advertisemcnto quarterly In advance. jl m. ,2 m. (3 m.l 6m. 1 12 m. 1 quare |*2oo $3 OOj* tt 00 JlO 00 3 •} 1 3 OOi 4 50l tt 00 l tO 00, 15 00 Transient advertisements SI per sqnare or he first, and fifty ;cnts for cacli subse quent insertion. r - erttilnc |k - " .. M. . - " ' ' ' | New Millinery I Store. Mrs. W. S. Moore, of Greensboro has opened a branch of her extenstvo busluess, iu this town, at the Hunter Old Stand under the manefcraent of Mrs. R. 8. Hunter, where she has just opened « complete as- Bortmcnt of, _ vnn/WTCi BONNETS, HATS, RIBBONS, FI.OWEHS, NATURAL HAIR BRIADS AND CURLS, LADIES COLLARS, AND CUFFS, linen and lace CRAVATS, TOILET SETS, and. e.ver*tbihg for la. ics . f the very latest styles, and if you do not And in store what you want leave your ot der one day and >ll the next and get your in styles and prices de fled. ' / i The U^ad I deal in American and Italian HarMs Inmiiti and Head stones t would inform the public that I am pre pared to do work as , > *■ Cheap as any yard in • the State, . , AND GUARANTEE PFRFECT g Parties living at a distance will save money by set ding to me for PRICE 138T and DRAWINGS. To persons making up a club of six or mure, 1 offer the Most liberal induce ments, and on application will forward designs, &c,, or visit them in pei sou ' -0' r * Any kind of marketable ' produce taken in exchange for wpik. « S. C. ROBERTSON, URKENSbORO, N. C. HHISSIP wlsi3pii crptlmww- >mfa>t "'"nrdfni hroiiifht on by indl»- ■ssSSSfK TUB nVSTKRIOPS PORTRAIT, In a small but handsomely furnished sitting rouin in a London hotel, a young lady rtas siting in an easy chair, before a blazing firo, one dreary Nrvciuber af ternoon. Her hat and cloak lay upon the 'able beside her, and from the eager, impatient glances she turned toward the door al every sound of a footstep on the staircase outside', it was evident that she expected a visitor. At last the door opened, and a tall, aristocratic looking young man entered the room. *i, 'Harry, what a long time YOU have been!' she exclaimed, springing up from her seat. 'What neWs have you brought? What does yenr father say about our— our marriage?' heeitaiing wi h the shy ness af a bride a thWut Words. ♦Koad lor yourself, Helen.' replied her husband, handing her an open letter,and standing opposite her, leaning against the marble niantlepiecc, watching intent ly the expression ol her fair young face as she read:—* 'ln marrying as voir have done, you have acted in direct, deliberate opposi tion to my wishes. From this day you arc no longer my son, and I wash my hands of you forever.' 4 'Harry, why did you not toll mo of this before?' exclaimed Helen as she read th» hard, cruel words, looking up through ber tears into her husband's face. | 'My darling, what was tbeio to tell r How could 1 know that my lather would act in (Ills bard-hearted manner. I knew thai he wished me to marry the daughter ot a nobleman living near Marston Hall, and so unite the two estates; but I had no idea that lie would cast me of! for dis obeying his wishes. And oven if I had known it,' he added, Isndly clasping ld» young bride to his heart, and £isslng away the tears from her eyes, 'I should not have acted differently. My Helen i» worth fifty estates, and as long as she loves uie I shall never regret tho loss of Marston Hall and its tair acres Hut my love,' ho continued, more seriously, 'there is an end ol your promised shop ping expedition into Bind street. You shall have to do without diamonds, now that your husband is a penniless outcast, instead of the lieir to fifteen thou.and a year.' 'Hush, llarry! Please don't talk like that,' she said, hurt at his bitter toue. 4 You know that it was not of the dia» monds and dross I was thinking. But what ure you going to do, Harry V she continued, laying her hand upon his arm, mid looking up sadly In his pale, set taco. 'You cannot work lor a iiv ing.' 'And why not woik tor a living?' he oxclaimed in a determined voice. 'Be cause I happen to be the son of a baron et, brought up and educated without any .Ideas or knowledge ot business? Bat 1 Will work for my living, and sl»o\j my little wife that lam not quite unworthy ot the trust and con tide nee she reposed in me when she placed this little hand in mine," he added, stooping lo kits the small white hand llivt rested confidingly i upon his arm. * It was whnt pursuing Ids favorite stu dy of oil among the famous galleries oflWmo that llarry Marston tVoed and wbn"Helen' Trncy. a governess fa an English family residing in Italy, and the orphan daughter of at) officer 111 the army. Before he had known her a mouth, Harry, who had been, in love— *>r fancied himself Li lovo—with nt least half a dozen different young ladioe in as many months, felt that be had at last met his late. Delighted at Ihe idea of being loved for hiinselt alone, he had not told her of his real position und it was uot until af« ter the marriage ceremony (hat Helen dis covered she had married the eldest son ol a baronet, and the heir to au estate producing fifteen thousand a year. It Vas not without some inward miss givings that Harry wrote to his father telling him of his marriage, which were more than realized by the result, as wo havo seen by the letter from Sir "Phillip Marston, which awaited him at his club ou his return to England with his bride. ~Bul. full of confidence in his ability to maintain himfelt and his young wife by his owu exerli&ts, and thiukiug Lbt»t sure ly his father would relent and be recon ciled to him after a time, Harry troubled himself very little about his inheritance; aud though their new home, consisting ot three small, poorly furnished rooms in a back street—was very diflerent from, the grand old mansions to which lie had hop ed to take his bride, he set to wot* cheer fully at his favorite art, and tried hard to earn a living by painting pictures and portraits. But he soon found that it was not so easy at> he thought. GRAHAM, N..C-, It was nil very well when he was heir to Marston Hull, and studied paiuting merely lrom love of art; but picture deal era, who in those days hud been nil flats tery and obsequiousness toward the young lieir, now that lie really .wanted to sell liis pictures and sketches, shook their heads, viid politely but firmly declined to purchase. At la-f, one dreary afternoon, when Harry sitting in (lie little room he called a studio, trying to devise some new scheme to replcndish his slender piirse, the servant opened the door and ushered a white-haired old gentleman into the room. Placing a chair by tli3 firo for his visitor, llarry inquired his business. 'You are a portrait painter, 1 believa Mr?' said the old gentleman, looking at him thr »ugh his gold spetacles. •That is my profession, sir,' replied Harry, delighted atthe thought of having found a commission at last. •Well, sir, I want ybu to paint the portrait ot my daughter.' . •Willi pleasure sir,' said Harry eag erly. 4 When can tho lady give nie her first oittiug?' 'Alas! sir, she is dead—dead to me these twenty years, and I killed her — broke her heart with my harshness and cruelty!'exclaimed tho old man, iu au exci(ed trembling voice. A strange thrill came over Harry, as the idea that his mysterious,vistor must be an escaped lunatic crossed his mind; but mastering, with an effort, his cmos lion, the stranger continued: •Pardon me, young sir. This is of no interest to you. My d.iughter is dead, and I want you to paint her portuit from my description, as I perfectly well remember her twenty years ago.' '1 will do iny best, sir, but it will be ud easy task, and you must be prepared tor many disappointments said Harry when, having given a long description of the form and features of his long-lost daughter, the old man rose to depart and for weeks he worked incessautly , upon the mysterious portrait ol the dead girl making sketch after sketch, each of which was rejected by the temorse stricken ftther. until the work began to exercise a strange kind of facination over him, and he sketched face aAer face AS it under the influence of a spell. At last, one evening, wearied with a day of fruitless exertion, he was sitting over the fire watching his wife who sat opposite, busy upon some needle-work, when an idea suddenly flashed upou bin . •Tall, lair, with golden hair and dark-blue eyes? Why. Helen, it is Ihe very picture ol yourself!' he exclaimed, springing to his feet, taking his wife's lace between hit two bauds, Kind gazing intently into lier eyes. Without losiug a moment he sat down and commenced to sketch Helen's face: and when his strange patron called the k next moruiug, Harry was so busily en ged putting the fiuishing touches to his irtrait, that he did not hear him enter the room, and worked on for soine moments unconscious of his presence, until, with a cry of 'Helen, my daught er!' tbe old man hurried him aside, and stood entranced over the portrait. After gazing for some minutes in silence broken only by his half-snpprcss cd cries of remorse, the old man turned slowly aronnd to Harry, and asked liiin in an eager voice where he bad obtained the original of the picture. •It is the portrait of my wife,' he said. •Yonr wife, sir! Who was she? Pardon me for asking the question,' he added; bull have lately heard that my poor Helen left an orphan daughter, so that by kinduoss and devotion to my granchild 1 might, iu part at least, atone for my harshness toward her mother.' Harry was beginning to tell him tho story ol his meeting with Heleu at llome and the subsequent marriage, when the door opened, and his wife entered the room. Perceiving that her husband was ens gaged, she was about to ictreat, when the old gentleman stopped her, and, after looking earnestly into ber faco for a few minutes, exclaimed, 'Pardon me, madatn—can you tell mo your mothe-s maiden pain#?' 'Helen Trebcrne,' replied Helen, wonderingly. * 'I knew it—l knew ii V exclaimod the old mau iu au excited voice. 'At last I have tound the child of my poor lost daughter!' In a tow words Mr. Treherno exs plained how te had cast off his only child on account of ber marriage with a poor officer and refused even to open her let ters wLeu she wrote asking lor forgive ness. •Butthank heaven!' said ho, when he had finished bis ?ad story, '1 can atone iu some measure for my harshnes toward TUESDAY JUNE 11 1878 my Helen by taking her Helen to my heart, and making h r my daughter.' It is nocdless add that when Sir Phillip Marston heard that his son had married the heiress ot one of the finest ami oldest CKtates in tlie eonntry, he at once wrote a letter of reconciiliuiion io Harry, and, after all, llulen even eventually bocaino mistresss ot Marston llall in the pictnre gallery of which no paint ins; Is more valued and treasured than 'The Mysterious Portrait.' DDATII AT MBA, Soldiers die bravely on the battle field, and resignedly in the military hospitul on shore, but there is something very sad in a soldier's death at sea. The sur roundings of the ship hospital are unfa miliar to his eye; the roll of the vessel is painful to him,. ; and the thought is ever present £o his uiind that if ho was on shore, if he could see the green fields or even the snow-clad earth, his recovery might be possible. Although nothing could be more comfortable than the couch ou which he lies, scarcely any thing more soothing thau the gentle roll ol thj vessel to one in his condition, he longs to stretch liis limbs on the barrack hospitul bed and to feel that he ijson the firm ground. Then the thought of the lonely burial in the wide waste of waters obtrudes itself upou his mind. To he launched over the vessel's side into the lonely ocean, committed to the deep, and left without a stone or a wooden cross to mark tke spot where his mortal remains were consigned to-th«ir. flvetjaatipu. All this is inexpressibly saddening to tlit dying soldier. On shore his com rades would have followed his remains to their last resting place in the church yard, and fire J a farewell shot over his grave, and with reluctant step have left him to sleep the sleep that knows no waking till the trump of the archangel summons the dead to judgement. How different at sea! Sewed up in a hammock, the corps to which he belongs summoned up the gangway, a few short, but solemn prayers said over the dead, and then the awful words: • "We commit this body to the deep !*' A plunge and the body sinks into the sea; the flag is lowered; the vessel sails on, and the dead is left alone to the tossing of the angry waves, or to siuk deep into the coral caves of the ocean. No comrade may come in alter days and drop a tear over that grave; no loving hand may come and plant a flower there; it is Iqst; swallowed up in the immensi ty of the great graveyard of the deep. writer once stood by the side of a dying comrade in the hospital of a troop ship, and heard the dying give utterance to such thoughts as the above. "What does the surgeon say?" he asked. "Tell me the truth, comrade, I am not afraid of death. "It is better that you should know the truth. He has no hope." "I thought so. Well God's will be done, but it is hard to die in the middle of tho ocean. If 1 had been on shore, even in a foeeign country, it would have been easier. It is hard to be buried at sea." "The sea will give up its dead." "Ay, that is right, comrade. I ought to think of that. Seamen, they say, like to cheeiishthe thought that they will be buried at sea; but I am a soldier. 1 would die happier if I knew that I would be buried on shore and followed to the grave by my comrades. There is some thing beautiful in a soldier's funeral on shore. The solemn music—that Dead March in Saul—how I used to love it My poor mother, it will grieve her to think that I was buried at sea. Read me that, comrade, about the sea giving np its dead." The chaplain at this moment approach ed, having been senv by the surgeon. He read the passage of scripture asked for, and many other beautiful pas-, "sages. The dying soldier closed bis eyes durs ing the reading. He lay silent for a long time after the chapl&in ceased. Then he opened his eyes and muttered feebly: "No funeral parade; no music; no farewell shot over my grave—committed to the deep. The—sea—will—give up ijs—dead. Comrade—my—mother— Farewell!" And he ceased to live. Next day the vessel came to a stop loi j a few minutes. The ship's bell whs tolled, the flag floated at half mast, and the Soldierr ol the corps to which tin deceased belonged were pursued at tin gangway. Th« prayers were nuid, th«- >MHIy launched over the side and tin vessel resumed her course. Some of the members of the corps on board werv surprised on learning, late iu the evening, that a soldier had been buried during the day. It is better that such things should be so Nothing can be gained by sadden l iag men unnecessarily. Cheerfulness is oiie of the most poteut of sanitary agencies. Every care should be taken to maintain it among large bodies ot men. Dying words are always of Interest. Men stand willi bated breath in the pres ence ot those who are just about to stop oil i.ito that durk. mysterious unknown whicjj spreads around us, and is "lamiN iarly termed ettriilly; The criminal on the scaflold, is ever an object of great at>> traction to tho multitude. Every word that falls from the lips of a condemned man, just at the moment of his execution is eagerly caught up by the gaping spec tator. Why this Is so, we cannot under take to explain. The lollowiug is (he speech made from (he scaffold by the no. gro Henry Roberts, who on last Friday was hanged for murdor at Shelby. He said. •This is my last of this world. I am innocent ot tho crime of which lam ac* cused. The eyidcnce against me was maue; it was false; I knew nothing of his death; lie was my friend. I am iiKoVeh. Jctija will gather rne in his arms. J thank God lam innocent of the crime oharged against me. I have no hatred against any ouo. Straight and and close is the way from earth to beavs en, yet Jesus will receive mo. He mem ber how Christ was put to death like me. I have a homo in heaven. I was never before iu court or jail before this. This is my law sight of you, but thank God 1 die iuuocent. I bid you all fares welli' There does not seem to have been the shadow of a doubt as to the guilt of this man, yet, like hundreds of other wretchw who liaye gone the same way, he mams taiucd bis innocence to the very last. Dying with a lie on his lips he yet ex pected to go straight to the home of the blessed. Old Noah Cherry, we under» stand, is confident that the pearly gates of heaven are standing wide open to res ceive his soul when{he shall liave paid the penalty of his terrible crime. One of his companions in guilt, Harris Atkinson, as reckless a chunk of mid night as ever had the frowning gallows to loom op over bis pathway in life, declares that he expects to go straight to hell, on the fateful 14th day of June. This frank declaration will give him singular prominence in the long line of doomed men who have gone to the dusky reigions of death from the deep shadows of the scaffold.—News. A YANKEE TRICK, •What do you charge for board?' asked a tall Green mountain boy, as ho walked up to the bar of a second rate hotel io Now York; 'what do you ask a week for board and lodging?' •Five dollar?.' •Five dollars! that's too much, bat I s'pose you allow fbr the times I a~a ab sent from dinner and supper V •Certainly, thirty seven and a hall cents each.' Here the conversation ended, and the Yankee took up his quarters for two weeks. During this time he lodged and breakfasted at the hotel, hot did not take either dinner or supper, saying his busi ness detained hiin iu another portion of the town'. At tbe expiration of two weeks he again walked to the bar and said: •S'pose we settle that account—l'm go ing in a few minutes.' The laudlord handed him his bill: 'Two weeks board at five dollars—ten dollars.' 'Here, stranger,' said the Yankee, 'this's wrong —you've uot deducted the times I was absent from dinner and snp" per—l4days, two meals per day: 28 meals at 37i cents each —$10,50. If you've not got the fifty cents that is due to me. I'll take a drink and the balance in cigat %2 No one can fancy the feelings of a newspaper m&u when lie hears a delin quent subscriber whom be Iras but twen ty lour bonrs before vaily implored to ••settle that little bill,'' yell out on San* day, "Put :ne down SSO tor the good of tiie cause," when they are "raising the church debt." Hui«on River Chronicle NO, 15 ♦» STtacitigs. An AlahaniH jury recently gave a women, whose husband had been killed ' by a railroad accident, *25,000 damage*, 2nd added: "We wish to God we Qould give her more." CHINESE CUSTOMS.— OId po«tagcstamv • are highly prized In China, and ft hun dred cnnccled Mtninps will buy a baby. Accordingly, the Roman Catholic mis sionaries aie collecting the old stamps and purchasing tho infants, whom Ihey bring np as Christians, while the ingciii us Orientals arrange their treasures as wall decorations. A farmer's daughter living near Cleve> . land, answered a personal iii a newspa per, entered into torietpondenco with the 'unknown,' finally met him, was married, went to the city, to lire, and returned to her father's house in two mouths, dressed like a beggar and look ing twenty years older than when she went away, llcr husband was a gambler and a loalcr. This is a 'personal romance in a uuUhell. In a barber shop disensston the day one of tlie dis| u'tants said; 'l'm get ting tired of this eternal harping about tho finer sensibilities and virtues of wo«. «onen—they're not a bit ahead of the men. Take a common instance—charity we'll say. When a man's generosity is toucl* ed in the right spot, he shoves his hand right down into his breeches pocket and gives alms. Docs a woman ever do that? No, sir, never I' and with a triumphant, self satisfied look, he pnt on his hat and went out, leaving the other party crashed and dazed. A TocdkiNo LOVE STORT.—I, along with several onlookers, recently observ ed a swallow enter an exhaust pipe iu the root of one of the Grand Trunk work* shops, evidently for the purpose of build ing her nest iu it. Unfortunately forber she could not get out again, and her partner entered the pipe also and back ed out again with a leather in hit beak. Three times did lie iueffeotqally attempt to rescue bis mate. When work was re sumed at 1 p. m, the swallow was blown oat ot the pipe by the foroe ©f steam,and lay dead on the roof of the building, tbe survivor standing by showing sign* of Intense distress. —Montreal Witness. AN AOKO COUPLE. —The most venera blerable couple in Texan, perhaps intlia country are Mr. and Mrs. Robinson of Mound City. He is reputed to be 103, and she 102 years old, and they w«-ra married in Kentucky eighty-two years ago. Mr. Robinson say s h« ne vers wow but oue oath bus never bbirowsd but fifty cents, and never gave a note. R.» and his wife are like children in their devotion to each other, ud after separatiorf shed tears on meeting. Recently they were presented with a comfort »ble house by a generous neigh bor. COffCBBfITIIVG STAVS, [Hartford Con rant.] In an indirect way the Supreme Court 10 of Pennsylvania has been called upon to deeide the important question as io whether a woman ha* any legal right to* wear stays. It gallantly says she has. The matter found its way into court after this tashion: A lady was riding in a horse ear, not crowded perhaps, bnt containing ladies enough to cover all the seats with their drosses, so the traveller had to stand np. The car stopped suddenly and she fell over, breaking her knee pan. She sued lor damages. The company claimed contributory nogligence on her part in that she did not take hold of the strap provided for standing passengers. She set np on the other baud that she coukt not reach or hold tbe straps, owing to the stays which she wore, and that with the present fashions no 'ady can do so,at least without iucovenieuce and possible injury. The lowar court decided that the lady, in taking hold ot a fellow-passenger's hand, had done all that was necessary, and tfiat under the circumstances sou was uot obliged to stretch up to (he strap. It awarded her about $5,000, ai.d the Bus preme Court, reviewing the case, de clines to interfere. It is a question of socialogical importance to know how this decision would be received by the sex. At the first glance it looks 'like a declaration in favor of women's rights, but it will scarcely stand anal} sis AS such. It auionuts really to [he official proc'at iiiatiou that woman shall remain cramp ed, barreled up and uuaole to lift her arras, and content only with clinging to some other person's hand for support. And this is what mjderu dresses amount to. Of corset is.
The Alamance Gleaner (Graham, N.C.)
Standardized title groups preceding, succeeding, and alternate titles together.
June 11, 1878, edition 2
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