Newspapers / Lenoir News-Topic (Lenoir, N.C.) / May 31, 1877, edition 1 / Page 1
Part of Lenoir News-Topic (Lenoir, N.C.) / About this page
This page has errors
The date, title, or page description is wrong
This page has harmful content
This page contains sensitive or offensive material
y : r WW JL JfctJjj r 1 4 OPIC DEVOTED TO THE GENERAL INTERESTS OF CALDWELL, WATAUOA, A8IIE AND ADJACENT COUNTIES. VOL. II. LENOIR. N. C. THURSDAY, MAY 31, 1877. NO. m "Lenoir. MOTHIR. Tbs nam of molhr I wUt duw TuU ?r fell on swrWI m t Tb lor o( motbtr I salttttMi lov Whiot) panniU to Aoorkh bare, Dlatt a notW lov and im Tb propwiU It doth oouUin What parl of lov, whl genu or hop A saouWa bait brat nl In vtln. A toother's Iot I It nTr wmm i What if bar boy m lugnU m f Tbe beauty of that wondrous Iot Arpi4 b tbMikl offprtaf bma i Tbeogfc la tb path of ihm b walk. Though erlai hath drlva blm to tb bowl, A soother' oara can jt avail A anotW praym may win hi tool chaptku i. Tbere were few prettier plcturci tliau that disclosed In the old rectory-garden on that blight winter-morning. Tip toe, ber arins raited to a branch of ? rowing holly, her glossy hair falling rom her fair face over her seal-skin jacket, and her violet eyes sparkling, waa May Weatleigh, the Rectors daughter, while within a few feet of her, watching her efforts with much amusement and a vast amount of admi ration, stood Thomas Ml Id may, a hand some young muscular Christian, attired in a tweed suit and felt hat Suddenly the latter burst forth It U the Btotor 'a daughter, And ah ha grown o dr, to dear, Tbt I would b tb wcl That trwuU In btr tar. "Don't be so absurd, Tom," lnter rnpted the lady, "You are a gallant gentleman, truly, to see a female In dis tress and not aid her." "Hare I not offered six times at leust, May, and been refused?" "And will be again, sir. This In the most lovely piece of holly I have seen this season, and I am determined that no other fingers than mine shall touch It until I give it to my dear Jack when he comes home this evening. They don't grow holly in India, do they, Tomr'p "No, I think not." "Then It will be a welcome offering to an English heart, Oh I how glad, how very glad. I shall be to see the dear old fellow." "If you speak so enthusiastically, May, 'poD my word I shall be Jealous," re marked the gentleman. "Jealous you! And Jack? Non sense. Why, Tom, I love him like a brother. We were brought up, you know, as children together." "So he told me, May, when we met In India, and he gave me the letter of Introduction to the rector. Indeed," proceeded Thomas Mildmay, still In specting the gathering of the holly, which persistently clung to its parent stem, "he spoke so Incessantly of you that I fancied " "Pray what, sir?" "That there existed a deeper affection than a brother's and sister's, May." "Which shows how you were de ceived. Talk of women Jumping at hasty conclusions ! Men are a thousand times worse. There, after all you must lend me your knife, Tom ; the branch will not break, it Is so tough." Thomas Mildmay produced it, again offering his services, which, notwith standing the obstinacy of the holly, were again rejected. "Cut upward, not downward, May," he cried, suddenly stepping forward; "the knife Is sharp." The warning came too late ; the keen blade had flashed through the tough fibres, and penetrated May's white, slender finger. It was not a very serious cut, but sufficiently so to cause the blood to leap forth. The cry she uttered was echoed by her companion, whose arm quickly encircled her dainty waist as he caught her hand In his. "0 dearest!" he exclaimed In con cern, "why did you not permit me?" "Because," answered May, a little pale, "I said no one should touch this branch but myself, Tom, and no one shall. But see !" and she held the holly towards him "there is blood upon it, and It is a bad omen." He glanced at the bough, and truly, fallen on It, as bright as the berries themselves, were the crimson drops. "Bad omen, May I" he laughed, wrap ping her wounded finger In his hand kerchief. "What childishness ! Why, you are absolutely pale. Ton my word, your concern for Jack Is already mak ing me Jealous." vDon't let It do that, Tom," she said bravely. "Why not?" he smiled. "Because, Tom, you are, I believe, the best-tempered man I ever knew, but" "But?" he questioned, fondly re garding her. "I am sure you love me so truly that, wero you Jealous of any one, I imagine that you would not be answerable for your actions." He caught her in his arms and pressed a kiss upon tier smootn cneeic. "Mr darling, vou are ritrht." he re plied gravely, in his turn. 'If I thought I should lose you, or another was seek Ing to win you from me, I think I should either kill him or my sen. " "Now you are talking pure nonsense, Tom. dear. Let us flroln. ' shelaughed. and. taking his arm, they moved over the crisp, frosty lawn to the quaint old rectory, a very Jack in the green of Ivy which enclroled its highest gables. But, even during the embrace, May had knt th hollv branch from comlnir in contact with Thomas Mildmay, auddld to still. Was this an omen too r CHAPTER II. The clear winter's morning had given place to a bleak, wintry night, and the tnow dashed sharp and cutting Into the faces of the Rector and hit old pupil, John Wesmacott, as they whirled along the dreary Scottish roud from the railway-station to the rectory. "Now, Doctor," exclaimed Jack, mer rily, "lot me take the reins while you tell the news. Remember the road? Aye, every stone of It, as If I had trav eled It but yesterday. How kind it was of you on such a night to come and meet me. How jolly I feci to see old Caithness again. What song is that May used to sing about there Del ng no place like home? Neither Is there. And now is May bless her heart ! Older, of course; and pretty. I will swear." "Well," all the change you will find In her, Jack, Is for the better: and I have one piece of news that will sur- firlse you, perhaps, but I think I will eave it for May herself to tell, or your own eyes to read." Westmacott start and 0w anxiously nervous for that news and no other? ".Nay, Doctor," he remarked, "re- member how long I have been away, and don't tantalize me. What is it? Does it concern concern May?" "Yes. Jack. She is engaged to be married." John Westmacott gripped the reins so sharply that the horse reared. It gave excuse for his temporury silence ; then ruthur huskily came the Interrogation : "To whom, Doctor?" "Your friend. Thomas Mildmay." "My friend!" muttered the ex-pupil Dot ween nis leetn ; "curse nun: then aloud: "How long bus she been en gaged, Doctor?" "Only since you have been on your voyage home, dear boy, or she would have written to tell you. You will have to wish her Jov." "I do, and" but this under his breath "him. He has robbed me ol her." It was so. John Westmacott had come back to the home of his childhood, the love of his youth. In those days he had termed her his little wife; laugh ingly she accepted the title. In nothing had he b?en more serious. During all his absence, while fighting for that for tune he had realized, amid rare and trouble, one Idea had upheld him, the returning to England and marrying May Westleigh. He had never doubted that she knew of and reciprocated his affection. He had comeback to find his happiness scattered to the winds. How he wciit through the evening that ensued, he never knew. How he calmly kissed the cheek May in all in nocence presented to "her brother;" how quietly he listened to the story of the holly-bough; and how he took Thomas Mildmay 's hand, was a mystery he never unraveled. All seemed the act of another person, not himself. Only when he found himself unex pectedly alone with May, just before leaving, did he lose his self-control. flinging out his hands towards her, he ried bitterly : "May, why have you thus deceived mer i on knew 1 loved yon. wnyaid you not warn uie of this? Why let me return to be so cruelly disappointed? Why of all men did you select Thomas Mildmay, who knew my secret? He is a crafty coward to have won you from me; but, bv Heaven, lie shall rue his treachery." Jack! exclaimed the girl, pale and and alarmed, "what do you mean ?" "lhat I love you, May; have always loved vou must love vou to mv dving hour." Before she had divined his intent, he had taken her in his arms, pressing a klsg on her forehead ; then he had gone, and the girl, full of grief, dropped weeping on a chair. A voice aroused her. Leoklng up, she beheld Thomas Mildmay by her side. His face was very white, his brow comtracted his lips compressed. "May," he said, hoarsely, "I have heard every word. I was yonder," pointing to the conservatory. "What is all this? What does he mean by your deceiving him?" "Tom, I know no more than you ; unless he has taken a childish joke in seriousness. Papa shall set him right." "No; he has called me a coward, ac cused me of worse. The task must be mine, and the explanation and apology must be made to-night." He moved away. She tried to stay him, but for once he was deaf to her voice. The outer door banged, and, striding over the snow, Thomas Mild may followed John Westmacott, who with a persistency for which an old tutor could not account, refused a bed at the Rectory, and had started for the village. The snow had ceased, but a tempest of wind had arisen ; the leafless trees seemed like wands before It, and the waves were heard breaking in bursts like thunder upon the shore, not a mile distant. The sky was clear and drear, only the earth was white. A mountain stream, which, when the rains or snows came, swelled into the dimensions of a river, intersected the road lending from the rectory to the village, and on this night It rushed and eddied In whirling foam between Its banks and the sea. Spanning its flood was a rustic bridge, about which grew a few firs and larches. It was here that Thomas Mildmay overtook John Westmacott. What passed between them we need not minutely re count. It was accusation and refuta tion first, which was speedily fol lowed by angry words, blended with threats. Then there was a blow, a sharp, short struggle, and one man quitted the spot, while the other lay on the river's bank, with his face on the snow, motionless and still by his side a sprny of the holly-branch May West leigh that morning had gathered. CHAPTER III. Not proven. That was the verdict. John Westmacott, there was good rea son to believe, bad been murdered, and by Thomas Mildmay. The two young men had quitted the rectory to gether, each bound for the village. Only one, however, Thorn at Mildmay, had arrived at the Inn, hit domes in disorder, his manner agitated, bit shirt-front blood-stained. The next morning John Westmacott was mls- Mlllg. Search w as made, and not only Indi cations of a severe struggle were dis covered on the left bana of the river, but also the impress of a man's body in the snow, a sprig of holly, a gold teal, and a caue, all of which were John Wcstmacott's property. But the body of John Westmacott was absent. On being arrested, Thomas Mildmay confessed that he and John Westmacott had fought by the bridge, upon what matter he refused to state. But he de clared that the Impress upon the tnow was his own; that he had been struck down Insensible by bit opponent; that, on recovering, he had found him self alone, and, fearing to alarm the In mates of the rectory, had gone to the Inn. Some believed the story. May did from her heart. Nevertheless, circum stantial evidence was against him. On such a night, the body of a man thrown Into the river, would nave been whirled down to and lost in the ocean like a wisp of straw. Still, as no body could be found, the direct proof of murder was wanting, the Scotch Jury brought In "Not Pro ven," and with the brand of Cain on his forehead, which only the appear ance of John Westmacott in life could remove, the accused was released, con demned mutely, If not openly, by the public voice. "Then what do you think has become of him?" asked the Rector, sadly, after hearing Thomas Mlldmay's recital of the quarrel. "I cannot Imagine, sir, unless he committed suicide," was the rejoinder. "He was mad at the moment. His ac cusation, his language showed it. He was capable of anything." "What do you intend doing, my poor boy?" "I shall go abroad," answered the young man, gloomily. "What becomes of me there is of small consequence." "Save to me, dear Tom," said May, moving near to him, and lifting her brave eyes to his. "If you go, it shall not be alone. I do not think you guilty. I believe all you have said. I have promised to he your wife and I will be so now as ever, dear." For some moments his emotion was too great for words. Then, embracing her tenderly, he exclaimed : "Heaven bless you for those comfort ing words, my darling. But no; you shall not make this sacrif.ee ; you shall not bear a name shadowed by such a verdict, which Implies my guilt, not sufficiently proved for the law to pun ish, but equally guilty." Two years had elapsed, during which no intelligence had been heard of John Westmacott, were he living, nor lately of Thomas Mildmay, when, one stormy night, the anniversary of John West macott'8 disappearance, the Inmates of the rectory were aroused by the deep, melancholy boom of the minute-gun. It was a sound unfortunately too often heard on that wild, rugged north coast ; but its frequency did not deter the In habitants from quitting their beds, anxious to render aid. The rector w" ever among the first to encourage ; nd r ;ward. On this night, despite his put suasions, for she nad grown very delicate, May, her plaid wrapped around her, accompanied mm. The beach, crowded with men, pre sented an animated scene. Beyond tossed the stormy sea, as black as the sky above, except when the white crests of the waves flashed out, before they broke with adeafening crash upon the shore. Among those waves, gored by then hidden reefs, was the ill-fated ship, rolling as in mortal agony, while clinging to the shrouds and rigging were tiny specks, known to be men, whose numbers, after each sweeping wave, were mournfully lessened. With difficulty the life-boat was launched, manned bv brave-hearted volunteers, and pulled on its mission of rescue. Twice successfully it made thejour- nev. but the third time, caucht oy a side wave, it and its freight were hurled pell-mell upon the beach. "The boat is done for," said the Rec tor, regarding it, "but, praise heaven, not before all are saved. " "No.no! O, papa, In mercy, look," cried May, catching his arm. "There is vet one on board who has been left behind." Her words attracted every eye on the beach, and there, holding to the shrouds, was visible tho flcure of a man. The next Instant he had plunged into the boiling sea. "Ho would swim it. It is impossible," ejaculated the Doctor. The boat Is use less. We have no meant to help him, unless any here would risk their lives to meet him with a rope." There was silence. The rope was ready the man wanting. They were not cowards, but few there could swim, and thoso who were ablo regarded the attempt as pure madness. Suddenly in their midst stood a man already divested of hit coat "Fasten the roDe around me." he said, quietly. "I am n strong swimmer and perhaps can do It." At the sound of his voice May sprang forward with a cry. "Tom Tom Mildmay!" she ex claimed. "Oh. no. no not vou." He smiled encouragingly upon her, watched for the resting wave, and the next instant was battling his way through the billows. In that stormy sea, to follow bis course was Impossible They only knew hit progress by the telling-out of the rope. It was a terrible suspense, to none so much as to May. who leaned half fainting', yet too anxious to lose entire consciousness, on ner ratner t arm. A quarter of an hour, and the signal was given to pull in. Rapidly it waa obeyed. But each haul found the weight heavier, until it was evident that the swimmer or swimmers were no longer able to assist themselves. So it proved, when by one more haul they were landed. The two were found senseless, clasped in each other's arms with a grip like death. Anxiously the crowd gathered round, and a murmur of surprise burst from many as In the preserver and preserved they recognized Thomas Mildmay and the supposed murdered man, John Westmacott. Little remains to be told. John Westmacott, on recovering, heard with considerable emotion who had been his rescuer, and eagerly he explained the mystery of his disappearance on that eventful night. Maddened by passion, after striking rbomas Mildmay down, be set off to neighboring seaport, resolving never place foot In the rectory again. A vessel, when he arrived, was on the point of starting for Norway a place he had long desired to visit, and he took passage in her, hoping by travel to find distraction from his misery. In Norway he had remained until a week back, when chance had thrown into his hands an old newspaper con taining Thomas Mlldmay's trial. Shocked and overwhelmed with re morse, he had not lost a moment in re turning to Scotland by the first ship that sailed, which, by a singular chain of circumstances, happened to be wrecked on the very part of the coast which he wished to reach. "You have saved my life, Tom'said he, warmly pressing his friend's palm, "and I am here to prove your inno cence. Forgive the past, and," taking May's hand, and himself placing It in the other's, "I pray you may be happy. ii your gum was not proven, vour devotion Is, and fully merits the rew ard of May Westleigh 's love." English Ma yazine. Stlk atntWwl. The Scotch freshman Is a very shy and curious being, all unlike the mirth ful lads who come up from Harrow or Rugby with hosts of friends ready made, and with a social and cricketing reputation to keep up. The English University Is a continuation on a larger scale of the life they know already they have already made their mark In one way or another as scholars, or athletics, or whatever it may be; and they fit without difficulty into the place which is ready for them. Everything, on the other hand, is strange to the Scotch freshman; even the Greek al pbabet is not always familiar to him; ana when a l'rofessor asks him to breakfast he endures agonies of shy ness. He comes, perhaps, from a parish school, where he has been the one re deeming feature in the toilsome life of the Dominie. He has for years enjoyed the benefit of all the leisure of that hard worked man, and -ha gladdened him by his "grip" of mathematics and his skill in Latin prose, an art which lingers in Aberdeenshire villages as the old Etruscan method of granulating goldwork survived in one nook of the Apennines. Full of modest confidence that what Scotchmen have done Scotch men may do, he sets himself to the study of the Hamiltonlan philosophy and grapples with Consciousness and the Concept. This sort of student you will but rarely see in the open air( never, certainly, at football or golf; but in passing through the windy streets one may descry the gleam of the candle by which he and a friend can read Reid's "Active Powers," or, greatly daring, master the laws of Greek accentuation. Saturday' Review. Ureal Wealtn AVrl kr7. If you are ever tempted to purchase a very large pear, decline the invest ment or reckon npon a disappointment. You will probably find it woolly, al most tastless, and more like a turnip than a pear. We know, for we have made the experiment in the land where the gigantio pears are grown. Over grown fruits never teem to us to hare the delicate sweetness which may be found in those of the usual dimensions. What is gained in quantity is more than lost in quality. In the same manner great wealth, great honor, and great rank generally turn oat to be great shams. Besides the counteracting in flueuces of great care and great temp tation, there is the inevitable aatiety in too mnch of anything, which soon ren ders it tasteless. For sweetness prefer competence to enormous fortune, the esteem of a few to the homage of a multitude, and a quiet condition to a position of eminence and splendor Tbere is more flavor in enough than in too much. Solomon's proveib bids ns prefer the dinner of herbs eaten in peace to the stalled ox consumed amid contention; and his remark is the mora practical when we consider how often the fat ox seems of necessity to Involve contention, while the herbs are not thought to be worth fighting over. He chose wisely who said; "Uive me neither poverty nor riches," He took the smaller and the sweeter pear. After all, it is better to have no choice, but leave it all with onr Heavenly Father. Upurgeon. True sympathy is the very essence of Christlaulty, and every human heart craves it. A woman's head is always influenced oy ner heart; nut a man's neart it ai ways Influenced by his head. Hew II fwl i b tinlliMn4. . We know how it feels to be poisoned. to be hanged and to Iks drowned, bat it baa been reserved fur M. Mundate, an Italian gentleman, to let the world know how .it feels to be guillotined. He waa in 1873 condemned to death for a crime of which he waa innocent. The blade of the guillotine fell, bnt the wood in the groove of which It ran had twollen slightly, and the knife stopped barely two centimetres from bit neck. W hile tbey were repairing tbit defect a reprieve arrived the true murderer had been found and had confessed hit crime. uJt was at 8 A. M.. August 17, 1878." says M. Mondate. that my coofeaaor, I' Abbe Fernia, ea tered my cell to annonffctrtO toe that I must die. When at the touch of bis band upon my shoulders I awakened. I compre hended at ODce the nature of his er rand, and despite my confidence it seems that I turned horribly pale. I would have spoken, but my mouth con tracted nervously and no saliva moist ened it. A mortal chill suddenly inva ded the lower part of my body. By a supreme effort I succeeded in gasping. It is not true !' The priest answered I know not what. I only beard acon fased buzzing. Then a sudden thrill of pride shot through me. For some minutes 1 felt no fear ; I stood erect ; I said to myself that if I must die I should show them that an innocent man died with courage. I spoke with great rapid ity ; I wan horribly afraid to be silent or to be interrupted : i thanked the Governor of the prison, and asked for something to eat. They brought me a cop of chocolate, but I refused it. Again I had become fully possessed with the horrors of my situation ; I had visions whatof the scaffold wouldbe like, and mechanically asked the attendants, 'Does it hurt much! 'Not a bit,' an s we red somebody, and I saw before me a new person in n gown of black woolen the executioner. I would have risen, defended myself, asserted my in nocence, but I fainted; and when I re turned to consciousness I was pinioned in the cart which was entering the death place. 1 cast a shuddering look at the horrible machine. I had no more connected and coherent thought, and the uprights between which the knife runs seemed as high aa the masts of a ship. I waa lifted to the platform ; I bad but one fixed idea that of resist ance. But how could I resist T I was seised and flung down npon the plauk. felt aa if I were paralyzed and lay there for an immense time. Then there was a sharp blow on my neck, and I fainted agaiu with the instinctive idea that the knife had struck me. It waa not the knife bnt the upper part of the lunette. When I came to myself I was in the prison hospital." Thonchta. Thoughts suggest thought, and these thoughts other thoughts, ad infinitum Thought are invisible and more until they are clothed in language, or embod ied in wordf ; then they can both be seen and beard. Without thoughts to direct the orator's speech, the author's pen, or the artist's hand, no work could be ac complished, the world would become a dreary waste and man would soon be annihilated. Thoughts are like diamonds-they sparkle, no matter how rough and un couth their setting ; and like diamonds, too, they are valued for their brilliancy, and the more highly they are polished the better they shine. Thoughts belong to their originator until set free and scattered : then they become public property and can never be collected together again as at first The ouly way to keep your thoughts is not to divulge them not even as a se cret! Thoughts expressed, however, whilst tbey do no harm, do no good. Like a candle hid nnder a bushel, they burn, b'lt shed no light. Therefore it is best to divulge your good thoughts ; but let year impure and evil ones (if any such you have) ever remains in solitary con finement and silence, that they may be smothered and become extinct. The Medicine of Sunshine. The world wants more sunshine in its business, in its charities, in its theo logy. For ten thousand of the aches and pains and irritations of men and women we recommend sunshine. It soothes better than morphine. It stim mates better than champagne. It is the best plaster for a wound. The good Samaritan poured oat into the fallen traveller's gash more of this than wine and oil. Florence Nightingale used it on Crimean battle-fields. Take it into all the valleys, on board all the ships, by all the sick-beds. Not a phial full, not a cup full, nor a decanter full, but a soul full. It is good for spleen, for livercomplaint, for neuralgia, for rheu matism, for falling fortunes, for mel ancholy. We suspect that heaven it self is only more sunshine. Mrs. Stowe says we never know how much we love until we try to unlove. To a man who has tried to quit unoklng this needs no argument. lor tfa setft. Always put your saddle on the right nous. roop roa thought. A quiet, conscience sleeps In thunder. A guilty conscience needt no accuser. An oak tree Is not felled with on blow. A bad workman quarrels with bis tools. When our hatred la violent. It rinks us beneath those we hate. fioeWow- cuult. Mean souls, like mean pictures, are sometimes found la good-looking frames. AH things come Into being by the combination of atoms, ami eventually perish by their disintegration. Satcu- rv. Few thlngf irTmb atlost laHbem- selves; and it is for want of application. rather than of meant, that men fall of success. In the education of children, bodily health should have prim-try attention. The tree of knowledge should be grafted wiin me tree or life. The chief Ingredients in the composi tion or those qualities that gain esteem and praise are good nature, truth, good sense and good breeding. A really educated man sometimes will lack that pithiness of phrase always more or less at the command of simply natural persons. Macaulay said of Mltford that he was tho first modern historian who under stood that men who wrote lu Greek oc casionally told lies. It is only the loveless who descryde- fects in others; to perceive these, there fore, we must becomo loveless, but not more than is absolutely necessary. Woman has many advantages over man; one of them Is that his will has no operation until he is dead, whereat hers generally takes place In her life time. Said a pompous fellow, brow-beating his auditors: "I ' have traveled round the world." Replied a wit of the Addi sonian school : ' So has this cane 1 hold In my baud, but it Is only a stick for all that." The Athenians erected a large statue of sop, and placed him, through a slave, on a lasting pedestal, to show that the way to honor lies open Indifferently to all. With every exertion, the best man can do only a moderate amount of good ; nut it seems In the power of the most contemptible individual to do Incalcula ble mlscnlef. The useful encourages ltself ; for the multitude produce it, and no one can dispense with It; the beautiful most be encouraged ; for few can set it forth, and many need it. Old age seises upon an Ill-spent youth like lire upon a rotten house; It waa rot ten before and must have fallen Itself, so that it Is no more than one ruin pre venting another. The footprint of the savage traced In the sand Is sufficient to attest the pre sence of man to the atheist, who will not recognize God, whose hand is im pressed upon the entire universe. The person who grieves tuff era his passion to grow upon him, he Indulges it, he loves it; but this never happens In a case of actual pain, which nooue oyer endured willingly for any considerable time. The world It a looking-glsss. and gives back to every man the reflection of his own face. Frown at It and It will turn and look surly upon you; laugh at it and with it, and it is a pleasant, kind companion. It Is an admitted fact In Japan and China that the older. the tree the better the tea. The shrubs wbicb supply the nobles of Jaiwn with the favorite bev erage are said to be, in many instances, 500 years old. The nutrient property of many of our most delicious fruits is less than on per cent, and yet the most perfect health and strength mayjDe maintained upon a moderate diet ol brown Dread and fruit. World of Science. The habit of exaggeration, like dram- drinking, becomes a slavish necessity, and they who practice it pats their lives In a kind of magnifying medium through w hich they look upon them selves and everything around them. Be civil and obliging to all, dutiful where God and nature command you; but friend to one, and that friendship keep sacred, as the greatest tie upon earth, and be sure to ground it upon virtue, for no other is either happy or lasting. If a Brahmin diet, his widow dons a garb either all white or all red. As these ladies of Bombay marry when seven or eight years of age, they are not unlrequently widows at ten, after which they are forced to remain single. and do the drudgery for the household. Exertion and enjoyment are the two appointed condltious of mortal ex istence. Uiither, without the other, is dead and alone. All work and no play is mere misery. All play and no work Is also miserable, with the great aggra vation of being also contemptible be sides. The goodness which struggles and battles, and goes down deep, and soars high, is the stuff of which heroism is made, by which the world la salted and kept pure. It Is the seed which bears fruit In martyrs and makes men nobler than their nature and deml-goda and the prophets of a better time. If you have no tense of need, how can you pray? Would you knock at the door of chariry, and then tell tho good man or the house that you require noth ing of him f Is not that mau an arrant trirter. who rings the surgery belt, but tells the surgeon that tie hat nothing abe matter with him, and does not need his caref Prryers that an not baaed upon a tense of need are moekrit tfjmrpso. If I ii
Lenoir News-Topic (Lenoir, N.C.)
Standardized title groups preceding, succeeding, and alternate titles together.
May 31, 1877, edition 1
1
Click "Submit" to request a review of this page. NCDHC staff will check .
0 / 75