THE ALAMANCE GLEANER.
. . • t- ' % . - " * H .«Z >t T7"c *1
VOL 5
THE GLEANER
PUBLISHED WEKKLY BY
K. S. PARKER
UrahnM, N. C,
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GRAHAM, N C-, WEDNESDAY DECEMBER 3 1879
i> K;V> yottry.
"IVRITK TIIBIM A I KITKH I I)-
NIHHT."
Don't go tp the theatre, concert or ball,
Bnt stay in your rdom to night;
Deny yourself to the friends that call,
And a good long letter write—
Write to the sad old folks at home,
Who sit when the day is done,
With folded hands and downcast eyes,
And think of the absent one.
Don't selfishly scribble, 'Excuse iny haste,
I've scarcely the time to write,
Lest tin ir blooding thoughts go wandering back
To many a Bygone night—
Wiien they lost their needed sleep and rest
And every breath was a prayer— ,
That God would leave their delicate babe
To their tender love and care.
Dot't let them feel that you've no mote need
Of /heir love and counsel wise;
For the heart grows strongly sensitive
When age has dimmed the eye-
It might be well to let them believe
Ton never forgot them quite;
That you deem it a pleas-are when far away,
Long letters home to write.
Don't think that the yonng and giddy friends
%Vho make your pastime gay,
Have half the anxious thought for you
That the old folks have to Jay.
(The duty of writing do not put off;)
Let sleep or pleasure wait,
Lest the letter for which they looked and longed. ,
Be a day or an hour too late.
For the sad old folks at home,
With locks fast taming white,
Are longing to hear from the absent one—
Write them a letter to night.
. urn HAMI, *JL
OK TUB
HEART OF HAMPTON HOUSE. .
—' I»t.Q._W.O._
M —— • -
Aunt sat in her cony arm ohnir
holme (lie cheerful fire-place, polishing
her glft|£ '1 "-reewser .
apron, while her knitting lay neglected
in her lap. The old blindle cat lay in
bis accustomed place on the hearth rug,
purring from excess of comfcrt, and
blinking lazily nt a ballot yarn that had
rolled upon the hoarth, as if thinking
what a grand frolic he would have if he
were as young and active as ho used to
\ »• -IAJAL
It was evident that Aunt Sophy wa9
sorely troubled about something to-night
tor several times as she gazed thoughtful
ly into the fire, a half-stifled sigh Strugs
gled up from her overcharged bosom;
onse lier eyes became so dim with tears
that she was forced to call Iter aprou into
_ requisition.
■I suppose I must tell licr,' she said,
softly to herself. 'lt would not be right
to keep the truth from her now. since
she is going to be married in the spring.
Poor Daisy! I wish I knew—l .wish 1
knew I Sometimes. I think it would be
better to say nothing—to leave her in
happy ignorance of the little I could tell
—to let her live and die under (lie delu
sion that she is really my niece. 1 should
think there were girls enough in New
York for this city chap to select a wife
from, without being compelled to come
down heic and steal my Daisy. 3ut there
is no denying that George Maynard is a
nice young man, if he hat a good deal of
impudence, and nobody can say that ho
didn't show good sense by selecting Daisy
from all ibe girls in this neighborhood.
Here she conies, this minute.'
There was a livelv jingling .of sleigh
bells outside, mingled with shouts and
merry peals of laughter, as (he sleighing
party dsshed up to the door ot Aunt
Sophy's cottage. Then there -yas a con
fusion of masculine voices and femiue
•creams—a run of playful raillery in a
much higher key than was necessary >-a
profuse exchange of good-byes aud good
nights—and away went the {.arty again,
jingling aud laughing as they had come.
Then the door ot the cottage flew open,
and the young girl entered the cosy room,
bringing with her a current of wintry
air and a sprinkling of enow. Her blue
eye s sparkled like diamonds, her cheeks
were all aglow with the rosy hue ot
health, and her pretty month was wreath*
ed with smiles, disclosing two even rows
of pearly teeth.
'Oh, Aunt Sophy, we have had such a
nice time!' cried Hie witching creature,
as she began to divest herself ot her
~ wraps. 'We went clear to Midgeville,
, and came baek by Duncau's Cross Roads
| and came very near getting lost. We
1 stopped at Sally Baker's grandfather's
■ for supper, and there was.a young, mar
ried couple there tram New York*whom
George was acquainted with, and,oo f
Aunt Sophy, George isn't going home
; till Thursday, because Sally Baker's pur
. Tv comes oft to morrow night, you know,
and be.is going to stay and take me. Do
yod careT
She had thrown off her bat and wraps
and shaken oat her loose, golden rings
lets, and as she made this coaxing in*
quiiy, ont of breath, she threw her arms
around the old lady's ueck, and kissed
her.
'Of conrse It !s right (hat yon shonltl
hav© an escort,' returned the old lady;
'anil I suppose that vonug Mayuard
would not like to trust his sweetheart to
the protection of any ol his connlry ri
vals.' ' -
The littlo boanty, who had dropped
into her fnrorite rocking chair, and put
ont her liny-booted feet toward the fire,
ftashetftotiiy at (Idg remark.
4 Yon like George, don't yon, annf?'
♦Why, ves, he's a worthy young man,
so far as I know.'
'Because—>on seo—when Georgo ask
ed inc to be—to be his—to bo engnged to
him, you know,l—l referred him to)'ou,
and ho is con.ing tc-niorrow to ask yonr .
consent.
'Daisy i mv child,' said Aunt Sophy
after a long pause, and Daisy looked np
suddenly, for the old lady's voice wa«
husky. 'Daisy, my child, I have no ob
jections to George Mayuard. I believe
liitn to he a true gentleman, and one who ;
deserves such a wife as you will make j
him; but before I givo my consent to
tiiis union, I feel it is my duty to te'.l you
something couaei-uing your past life
which has hitherto been a secret of my
own.'
•Oh, do, Aunt Sophy I I have always
thought there was some part of my lites
history which you purposely concealed
from n.e.' And Daisy moved closer,
and Icaucd on the arm of Aunt Sophy's
chair, looking up into that kind old faco
with the eager longing of a child to hear
an Interesting story.
'Whatl'm going to fell yon
you, my dear,' said Aunt Sophy, solemns
ly, as she laid her band on her head. It
is no pleawwt talk to ieven-1 to
YOU ; I had almost decided Oiice to keep
it from you even at this stage ot events;
bnt*u ' *; -sue*
thing might occur-the whole truttr
inight, through some unforeseen accident
be brought to light yuars honcc—that
you would probably blame mo .for i»ot
haviug told you Oil before the occurrence
of certain events-, Daisy. lam not your
auut—you are not my niece I'
Daisy's.blue eyes opened to their wid
est-extent and the color began to fade
from her cheeks.
'Not my aunt->not your nince—' she
faltered, scarcely able to believe that she
had hoard aright.
•We are related by no ties of blood.
Daisy,' said Aunt Sophy, firmly.
•Not related—what do you mean? Yon
never hinted at such a thing before, aunt
Sophy.'
'No. child. I couldn't bear to. It is
only becanso you are sooi| to enter
the most important era of your life that. I
now tel| ycu.' " r ~.
'But how camo my home to bo with
you?'
♦I adopted you because I had no chil
dren of my own. 1 ■>;.
•Then my name is not Willis, the same
as yours?'
'No, de*r, yonr name »s not Willis.'
'Who uta I then? What is iny real
nainef/ ' twJ .
'There, Daisy/ don't look so. You
must try fo be calm.
'You evade my question, Aunt Sophy,
rieaso tell me what my ti no dame is.'
'My poor child, I cannot, for I do not
know.'
'Oh I don't say that? Don't tell me that
1 have no name!'
'No doubt yon hate a name, Daisy,
but 1 'never heard it.'
'No name I Oh, this is crqel—cruel 1'
The g.ri was deathly pale now. The
last trace of tlie rich bloom had fled from
cheeks and lips, leaving an ashy pallor
that madle her startled eyes look all the
wilder> One of her little handa was
raised to her head in a pitiful, bewilder
ed Way, as if she had been stunned by a
blow, and she repealed softly to herself
the words: 'No name-—no name I'
Aunt Sophy was deeply touched. Put
ting her ann around the blender, childs
like figure, she drew it close, and im
printed a motherly kiss on the white fore
head.
•Daisy, my darling, I can't bear to pee
yon look like that. I surely did not think
it would hurt you so. If such is your
wish, I will never utter another word on
this subject/
•No, I want to bear all,' returned Daisy
quickly. 'I am calm now. I won't alarm
you again. Go on, Annt Sophy; tell me
"all that yon know about it—where you
fonad me, and Bit.* *-
Her voice was low and steady, and as
•he spoke she sank back into her chair,
clasped her hands in htr lap, and gazed
steadfastly info the fire, waiting calmly
to bear the whole bitter truth. *
; I Aunt Sophy took off her spectacles,
an* l , resumed the polishing process.
J 'Well,' sho said, with a sigh. 'I ranst
i Inform you that, when yon first came
under my notice, you wero in the Founds
ling's Iluirio. As it was not Iho Lord'a
will that Jason and I should be blessed
Willi children of our own. we both set
onr hearts on adopting one; It was for
that purpose that we visited the Home
one day, while iif the oily. Of all the
inmates it was yon who pleased us irtost,
and you whom wo at once decided to
adopt. You wero only a mere infant nt
that lime, al>out stvon months old and in
delicate health; but there was something
in your pale face a..d pleading blue eyes,
thai enlisted Our sympathy and love from
the first. 'Hie matron did not kuow vonr
name, hut sho told us such of your story
as had been related to her by the parties
placing yon in her care. Aud such as it
is I will repent to you.
'Your father was au English sailor—
indeed, your parents were both English,
and never rcsidod in America. For somo
reason or otlier he was removing his
I small family to Ansfriilta at Ihe lime the
| terrible calamity occurred which left yon
: nil orphan. Perhaps hi designed giving *
| up his sea-faring lifb, and settling perma
nently in that new country. Be that as
it may, he was not permitted fo accom
plish his designs, for tho vessel wus
caught in a storm, driven a long distance
out of its way, nud wrecked off the coast
of some island. Tho ship was literally
dashed to pieces on the rocks, and by
some strango freak of Providence, every
body on board was lost, so far as known,
except yonr mother and yon. Both of
you had beou lowered into a boot by your
father. The boat was ftlll of sailors and
passengers, and yon two were the last to
enter it. Yonr father then seiaod the
rope and swung himself over tin stem
ot the vessel, intending to join yon; bnt
befbre beeonld-do so, the-sailors had.,
grasped'the oars pushstV the , boat
away from the deck. The poor woman
™w> JVavttf?- She even tried to leap ent
of tho boat herself, but one of the seamen
pulled her rudely back.
'The last she saw of her husband, he
wag stiULdaiigliug on that rope above the
boiling fi?o'.i. The sight almost drove
tier wild. In a littje while tho moun
tainous waves capsized the boat, and its
occupants were all conslgued to'tholner
cy of Iho angry sea. Yonr mother cling
ing to a floating plank with her babe'
hngged close to her bosom, aas picked
up by au American bound vessel. Not
another human being belonging to the
ill-fated ship was saved; and even ydur
mother was so near dead when help
came, that she only lived a few hours af
ter her rescue. * She told her ftlmple sto
ry, begged her preservers to take care ol
her child, aud closed her e> es on this
world torever. She wss buried at sea.
Then It Was remembored that Iho poor
woman had not told her name. No hint
as to what part of England she came
from-rivo name—no clue. The babe liv
ed, was brought to America, and placed
in. the charitable institution where I
found you.
•That, Daisy, is all I know of your
4tory. We took you into our hearts and
home, and taught you to call ns uncle
aud aunt. It was because of our great
lOve tor you that we deceived you. Ja
son used to say, before he died, that if
would bo time enough to tell the truth of
the matter when you began to think of
getting married, and leaving us. Are
yon crying Daisy?'
Yes she was crying soflly but bilter
ly. ,
•I can't help it, she sobbed. I will
have to release George from his engage*
ment now.'
'Surely nOt| my child,' said annt So*
phy, in a consoling tons, 'George is not
tho man I believe him to be, if a knowl
edge of your trife origin in the least ef>
fecis liis desire to nossess yonr hand.'
'No,'replied Daisy, drying her tears
and. looking Up with a momentary flash
of pride, no. Aunt Sophy, George would
be too gcucrous to give tne up ou tbat
account.' Bhe made a little gesture as
though she Would wring her bauds, and
then, suddenly rising to her feet, site
stood calmly before Ihe old lady. 'But
t would not do him a wioug tor the world
she added in a low monotone that cover
ed so much agony. So long as 1 have
no name—so long as my parentage is
clouded in mystery—l will never uiarry
George Maynard, or anyone else!'
. 'Daisy this is not right. There is no
need of causing yourself so much an*
happiness.'
•Perhaps I am oter sensitive and
proud, but lam determlne«i. Our en
gagement will be broken off tomorrow*
Good night Aant Sophy.'
And before Aunt Sophv could ntfer
another word, Daisy bad kissed her aud
lefLtha room, _l.
And sure, enough on the following day
when George and Daisy met, sho sobbed
out the whole story on ids breast—the
story that Auut Sophy had told her—
aud in spite of the young man's earnest
eulreauss aud expostulations, she firmly
assured biin that she never could be his
wife. In vain be tried to convince her
tliat her notion In regard fo the matter
wa's very foolish; that there was uo
reason in her resolution to make liersell
and hi in unhappy lor life.siuiply because
sho happened to know so lillle ol her or
igin. Daisy had her owu Opinion cou-
ceruing the question of right Mud wrong
in this cat-o, nud although she cn&l heN
sell s)ck over ft, no ntfiount of opposltiitfi
could filler lifer tifewft. •
So the urifef engrtgeulent terminated
aud George Mnymtrd icnt back to his
book keepers desk in thd city with a
heavy load on his heart. And Duisy
aliuoAt Krled her eyes on'., and kept grow
ing paler aud and quieter everv day, till
Aunt Sophy was nearly destracled. The
whole neighborhood saw and wondered
nt the change that had come over Daisy, j
and sadly missed the morry prauks ot
1 tie light-hearted "il l.
Bui one day. an Iff a week lia.l passed,
there came a short letter Irom
Maynard. It was not addressed io Dai*y
hut to Aunt Sophy nerself: aud that
good lady, nfler duly adjusting her S|>c(:-
lacles and breaking ilio A Seal, read (he
followlugl
MKS. WILMS!— T will arrive in yotir
neighborhood to-morrow evening by the
0/80 train, and will stop at yonr lionso
on iny way to the hotel. llo|>e you and
Daisy will hdth bo at home. I will be
accoinpaniod by uiy eiriplovcr, Mr. Fans
worth, whom 1 wish to introduce to yon.
11 told him the particulars of my love afs
fair—how it ended and all—aud he seem
ed very much affected by Daisy's life
history, oi 1 related it to him. lie wants
to seo her; he thinks he can tell her what
she most desires to know' Indeed, lie is so
confident ot it that he leavos his business
to take this tri|> with mo.
Yours truly,
"QBOROB MAYNAHD."
Annt Sophy removed her snfeititrtcles
and looked at Daisv. 'This Mr. Fans
worth has something of important to
1011, Or lie Would not leavo Ids business
to come and seo us. Perhaps ho can tell
who your ptfronts werw, Dais v.'
'Oh, if by only could I and the little
white hands were closed lightly, while
the silt blue eyes lit up with a hungry
longing. But the next moment Daisy
shook her head sadly. 'No Aunt Sophy
that cannot be. 1 was theouly ouo that
■survived that awful wreck; . who but
iiOs. *vi»ld tell me aught of my parents?
Noiie Who saw me when n hpJpleso infant
worild recognize me .now. 1 may have
relations In ttoe w„._, never
know thorn!' and her chin qnivered like 1
that of a grieved child, 'bobodr in the
whole world knows who I am, and I—l i
cannot tell them ' .
The plaintive, words out liko a knife
into Annt Sophy's heaf-t, biit sue made
no reply., Sho felt assured that Mr.
Fansworth'r visit would be productive of
happy results, >et she could not adduofc
• single good reason lor erilfertaiuing
such a belief.
Ihe following evening Annt Soffliy
was knitting as usual in her arm-chair,
and ihebrindle cat was making himself
Tory much at home on tho rug when
young Mavuard and his employer ar
rived. Daisy had gone to her room to
make some necessary change in her toilet
and had not returned; tlierfore it was
Aunt Sophy herself that answered the
knock, and iuvited the visitors in. Mav
uard presented Ins companion to tho old
lady, and Mr. Fans worth acknowledged
Ihe introduction by a courtly bow. Mr.
Fauswort was a tall ffue looking gontlo
mau, about forty-live years ot age—a
man with the true polish of' christian
collrtdsy, and one who wonld be singled
out in a crowd as a person to be trusted.
Ids black hair and beard wcro slightly
sprinkled with gray, aud his haudsouie
features bore uuinistakable signs of suf
fering.
Uis first act npon entering was to cast
a quick expetiiaut glance around the
room; then be accepted tho proffered
chair by the old fashioned fireplace, aud
made a few commonplace remarks, about
the troather. After a little he looked
squarely at Annt Sophy» and said:
'Mrs. Willis, I presume Mr. Maynard's
letter explained tho object of my visit.
You have a niece—l should have an
adopted niece—'
Ho stopped short at this juuctnre, for
just then a door opened, and Daisy her
self entered the room. As Mr'. Fans*
worth looked at her he started visibly,
and ihe color came and went In his fade.
He diil not wait to Ito presented, but held
out his hand towaad Daisy, aud said, in
a trembling voicei
'Come hefe girl; I want to speak with
yott/
'Margaret's hair, Margaret's eyes, Mar
garets expression IMy dear girl yon are
the very image ot your irttfther. I know
now there Can bo uo mistake. Look at
me child, I am jfour father.'
Aunt Sophy's heart leaped Into her
throat, ami Daisy tnrne.l ashy pule. But
the girl drew back with a perfectly skep
tide air.
1 -My father was drowned tyhen I was
' an infant' she said Coldly;
1 'You mistake,at least you rtmst hear my
story,' and Mr. Fansworth retained pos
-1 session of her hand while be proceeded;
lau a.native of England; and when a
young man I Was a midshipman In her
MsjkSty's service. I marmd Margaret
> Hampton, of Hampton House, a ficautii
1 tdl heiress, who was disfn lieiited by her
father because sho insisted on accepting
my band iu marriage. A friend of mine
' who had rellled in Australia, aud was
making a fortune there, urged me to give
up my seastariug life aud join him. J
' Consented, So I commenced my last
voyage en the staunch brig Tarmoutk.
accompanied by my wire and child. The
r latter was only three- months ohf." A
> storin overtook us j tbo Yarmouth was
' driven toward some rock-bound islands
* aud wrecked. 1 tried to save my wife
• aud babe. 1 lowered them into a boat,
and was descending by means of a rope
> when the triglitened sailors pushed the
' craft from under me, and f was left
' la. gliug over the stern of the vessel * A
» moment later i saw iho wild waves cap*
I site the boat, 1 saw my poor wife strog*
i gling iu Iho stormy sea (and my senses
forsook ipe. 1 awoke to. find myself ly
- ing on the solid enrtb. The waves had
.jtfo,-30
thrown me np on ihe island, and mv lifW
was spared. I Ml|)|>OPCil even hofiv
on ill> Yarmouth was lost. Aflt Hvinj'
on the Island, I hnilnd a passing ship nnl
went to AttMralfa. 1 eel. told" bosine-rf
willl niv friend, nn«l got rich.. A few
\ ear* ago I rimo to New YoMt, mid
started a brunch lion hp. 1 never ciream
ol a po«Bil»lc clifinct* of mr wife pr child -
surviving the wreck, ifII mv hook keeper
the oilier day relatod h story that filler*
tr.e wh'.sjiopc. I know ihrft ion am mv.
I cliild. Ton nre tlie exact co/inlferpnrt of
your mother.'
l>al«y chirped her hrfrids ai|l looked
Klcadmely at Ariut Sophy. 'Oh. can thN
b true?
~'There none way to prove ft'.' said Mr;
Fansworih, standing up in his excite
ment. 'lt yon*are mv child, there im >t
small crlttfSpli spot on your riarht shonU
dcr, in the shape of a heart. Yonr moth
er had one like it. She told mo lhat all
ihe felhaleM oI (he Hampton stbftk wdrd
born with that mark on their shonMera.
It was called Mho Heart of. Htimpton
Home', and was anid t> signify that
I hose who bore it would bo oarly aiid
happily married.
Aunt Sophy started np frantically. ,
'lt's there, sir—lt'rf there I've Seen it
a hundred limes.'
Drfsy's while shoulder waa instantly
laid bare ijiid (hefe sure enough, was the
crimson birtlnnriik nllrtdod lo—the Heart,
of Hampton House. Nj tnrther proof
was required. Daiav threw herself jntd
the arms of her new-found fu|her, amj
wept lol ; joy. Then alie wbttt into Aunt
Sophy's arms, and even in George
nard'a; and the whole group were 'as
happv fts happy could bo.'
Having learned her n&rrt# and fodnd *
fat Iter, Daisy fttf longer objected to Iho
name of Mayuard, whMi she according*
fv adopted hi the spring. And Mr.
Parnswofili, giving hit son-in-law a
partnership in hjs business, caused the
name of Ihe firm to' fean:
••Fanswortn Sk Mayhard."
Gltdni n (f M*
w -^ r ' ■ - • Jj •
There are only three thirga you c«it
get for nothing in this world—air, water
and advice. „
One hundred and thirty nfo
required at Vasaaf ctf liege to Wait on the
girls and attend to Uie estate:
Tennessee, Virginia and North Caro
lina furnish the peanut* for this country.
The crop this year u a big one— 335,000
bushels bigger than last year,
A Buffalo school teacher fishiifg
all one holliday week, and never liad h
bite. One of his scholars slip|>ed ont of
school for two hours and caught thirty-*
six pounds of black bass.
"I wish you would pay H little afcten
tion to What I am saying, sir," roared a
lawyer to an eitafttiet'atiug witness. "[
am paying as little attention as I Pair, 14
was the calm reply.
Rev. Dr. Skinner, pastor of the First
Baptist, church in Raleigh, lately tec-iv
ed from Mr. Pierre Lorrillard, of Hew
York) a present -of a box containing
1,000 cigars, Worth tl each and a #I,OOO
bill. Mr*. Skinner ia a cousin of Mr.
Lofrillardt •
A French broker Was saying the other
day that he knew all his partners secrets,
and therefore could risk a qtiaft-el. "But
he kaoWs yotirS, too," remarked a
Aye, cries the boursier, "but he ja a
gentleman; he will not abuse my confi
dence."
Who wdnlt!n*t rather [be President
thsn to be right? Come,uow, no shirking
around. The salaiy of President ia
50,000 per year;) he salary of being right
is all the way from #ls |ier montii
down to Splitting wood for a cold dinner.
—Detroit Free JFYwu.
A Denvet girl, for tiot otilv
engaged berseli to marry two men, but
appointed the same day, hour aud plm-o
for a secret wedding with each. The
suitors were soffle*hat disconcerted ,by
each other's presence, toft well as by tho
girl 4 a absence, but they finally came to
an amicable understanding Co despise
her. ■
Mr« Gladstone has night .children,
seven of whom ah) living. His eld«»*t
son is a member of Parliament, hi* ««-»■-
ond son is reetor of Hawarden, bin third
is engaged in mercantile pu-sniis. Hn4
eldest daughter ia married to the (Tend
Master of Wellington College. Mr
Gladstone was about thirty years old
when he WJJS mairied to the daughter of
Sir Stephen Glynne.
An Irishman had jolted one nf the
Father Mattlte# societies. A friend
met him aod aaid, "P-tt, I've heard you
signed the pledge."
"Faith and 1 hare Pinnis) and 1 am
not ashamed of iti : *
•'But Pat, didn't Paul tell Timothy
to take a little wide for his stomach'-i
sake?"
"I know that} but thin my name ia
not Timothy* and there's nothing the
matter wid u»y stomach."
"You afe all aloee here?" asked a mart
of the olerk in a Cincinnati cgar stores
Receiving an. affirmative answer, he eon*
tinned: would you do it a thi f
should grab this box and f-ntt aw H yV
The clerk replied that lie Won Id let the
rascal escape, rather than abandon the"
motley drawer to a possible raid.' "Then
| I'll be going," the malt totally remarked,
I as be tucked the box under hia coat au 1
ha»lily «lepart«d.