An Ind open, dent Family Newspaper: For tlic Promotion of the Political, Social, Agricultural nnd Commercial Interests of the South.
VOL. 3.
LINCOLNTON, N. 0, SATURDAY, MAY 8, 1875.
NO. 105.
NW BBSS BTOBE.
[ HAVE JUST RECEIVED AND OPEN-
1 ed in the “Old Slade House” a
Stocks Drugs,
NEW AND FRESH
Out and out. I will keep every article
usually found in first-class Drug establish
ments, and will
Sell eis Low
As any retail druggist. Call one time and
see. Look well for the
M M
o o
SIGN. It SIGN.
T \
It, It
86 decl9-ly
Grand, Square, and Upright Piano.
Have received upwards of Fifty First
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made. Every instrument fully warranted
for five years. Prices as low as the exclu
sive use of the very best materials and the
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The principal Pianists and composers and
the piano-purchasing public, of the South
especially, unite in the unanimous verdict
of the superiority of the Stieff • Piano.
The Durability of our instruments is fully
established by over Sixty Schools and
Colleges in the South, using over 300 of
our Pianos.
Sole Wholesale Agents for several of
the principal manufacturers of Cabinet
and Parlor Organs; prices from $50 to $600.
A liberal discount to Clergymen and Sab
bath Schools.
A large assortment of second-hand Pia
nos, at prices ranging from $75 to $300,
always on hand.
Send for Illustrated Catalogue, contain
ing the names of over 2,000 Southerners
who have bought and are using the Stieff
Piano.
CIIAS. M. STIEFF.
Warerooms, No. 9 North Liberty St.,
RriHimore, Md.
Factories, 81 a 36 Camden St., and ‘•+5 or 47
Perry St.
may 16 55 tf
ESTABLISHED IN 1852.
Machine Shop
—and—
nu o^ nm^ di ^ jm, .
0
E. W. STUBBS,
JJANUFACTURER OF ALL KINDS
Machinery,
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OJLS^ZKTCSrgS,
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Basil and Malay Saw Mills,
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Mill Geering and Shafting.
Pulleys and Hangeys, ^^
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and s Machinery,
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and other Tanning Machinery
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Plows and other agricultural implements.
Tobacco,
Hay and cotton pressess, &c., &c.
Repairing attended to at all times.
Over twenty years experience
ensiles us to make the best work at
MODERATE PRICES,
Orders Solicited.
B^. Address, for Price List, &c,
E. W. STUBBS,
Lincolnton, N. C.
april 26 1
THE HENDESON HOUSE
Vox- Sale ox* Tlenf-
IT IS NOW ENJOYING A LARGE
1 patronage. For terms, &c., a pply to
in 27-lm RobektS owers.
T^e ^vanvc^^^
FRANCIS IT. DeLANE,
EDITOR AND PROPRIETOR.
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MINNIE'S MISTAKE.
Malcolm Thorne sat in. the cars,
bound for Malvern, absorbed in a deep
reverie, and a pleasant one it was, too.
He was a lover, engaged also, and he
was soon to lead his bride to the altar.
He was now journeying toward the
home of her who had filled, and would
fill, he hoped, in the happy years to
come, many of his hours with “silken
splendor.” Is it, then, to be wondered
that his thoughts, his day-dreams were
profoundly delightful?
“Malvern !” cried out the conductor.
The conductor’s announcement star
tled him from his reverie.
“Here already,” murmured Malcolm.
“Why, the time has passed very
quickly.”
He removed his satchel, cane, and
umbrella from the rack, vacated his
seat, and when the train stopped step
ped off on to the platform. A large
crowd was assembled at the station
awaiting the arrival of the train, for
Malvern was quite a flourishing town
and he was making ins way through
the concourse of people as rapidly as
he could, when a pair of arms were
clasped around his neck, and a soft
voice whispered:
0, George! I’m so glad you’ve
come:” and then almost as suddenly
added, “0, I beg pardon, sir, I’ve made
a great mistake, but the resemblance
is wonderful.”
Before the astonished Malcolm
Thorne could make a reply, theyoung
female with the fair, lovely face suffus
ed with blushes, had disappeared in
the crowd, and was quickly beyond
his sight.
“By Jove !” he thought, “that young
woman must have taken me for her
lover, whom, 1 suppose, she expected
would come by this train. Why, bless
me, it’s the funniest adventure with
which I’ve ever met.” The whole af
fair struck him as being entirely ludi
crous, and he stood still for a moment
and gave vent to a hearty laugh.
He moved on again, got clear of the
crowd, and then gazed along the plat
form, where a row of various sizes and
styles of vehicles were waiting to con
vey th.e arrivals to different points in
the town.
“Minnie promised to meet me hero
with the carrage, but I see neither her
nor it. Probably something has de
layed her; at any rate, I’ll sit down
and wait a few minutes longer.”
Ten minutes passed away, but neith
er his lady-love nor the vehicle ap-
^^ired. /
“She must be ill,” he murmured,
glancing at bi^ watch; “but it’sstrange
she did not order the carriage to come
for mo, even if she couldn’t come her
self.
He called a cabman to him. “Do
you know where Mr. Bangton resides?”
he asked. The man replied in the af
firmative, and Malcolm ordered him
to drive there as quickly as he could.
The vehicle stopped in front of a
stately, handsome residence, and Mal
colm Thorne sprang out of the convey
ance, walked rapidly up the graveled
walk to the door and rang the bell,
which was almost immediately an
swered by a servant.
“Is Miss Bangton indisposed, or is
there any sickness in the family ?”
cried Malcolm.
“All are quite well, sir,” replied the
domestic, “and Miss Bangton cannot
see you and bade me give you this
note.” She thrust it into his band,
and then shut the door, as the saying
is, in his face.
Malcolm, bewildered and astonished
stood there, making no movement, but
having the appearance of a person who
is not really aware whether he is in
his right senses or not.
“Cannot see me?” -be at last ad
mitted. “What have I done to offend
her? What is the meaning of this
strange action of hers ?” He seemed
to have forgotten the dainty, pink-
tinted missive which the servant had
given him, but sudden^: recollecting
it, he tore open the envelope^ and
read these sarcastic-lines f
Mr. Thorne—Dear Sir :—“I was not
aware, until quite recently, that your
heart was large enough to entertain an af
fection for two women at the same time.
Such being the case, I must de. ’ne the
share of love you have been wont to lavish
upon me, as, in affairs of the heart, I am
very selfish, and not for a moment could
I think of looking to a rival. Let all,
henceforth, that has passed between us be,
forgotten. I leave you free to bestow the
whole wealth of your elastic affection upon
whomsoever you choose to honor in that
wav. Should we chance to meet let it be
as strangers ; for my vocabulary contains
no word by which I can fully express the
scorn in which I shall evermore regard
you.” I remain, very respectfully,
“Good heavens! What is themean-
ing of this? Has her love for me de-1
parted since I last saw her and been ' ^d before folly, resolute Mrs. Rangton
bestowed on another, and is this theA'TPcaj-M.
paltry manner in which she seeks I 1 Malcolm, sacs in her room
nd herself of my company and sever | sobbing as if her heart were breaking.
the engagement? It is one series of .
falsehood from beninning to end, and i woman kiss and embrace you at the
is plainly of her own coinage, too!” /ePot to-day. I guess she fell asleep
It is strange bow quickly, when sus-| !n the carriage and dreamed it.
picion is once aroused, people jump to j Malcolm’s gravity changed quite
conclusions, be they true or false; and ? suddenly to merriment, and it was
this is especially the case when two
of man’s strongest passions, love and 8a y> ‘‘The woman called me George,
jealousy, are at all concerned in the “d, as I resembled Ber lover, thought
matter.
At this juncture the cabman ap-
preached Malcolm, who was excitedly W. Rangton bad a keen apprecia-
nacing up and down the -verandah I tion for the ludicrous, and she joined
which surrounded the house, and said : i ‘ n Malcolm’s laughter.
“I’d like to have my fare, sir, for I ' “XV bat’s all this fuss about, said the
must be off. I can’t wait here all day
unless you pay me for waiting.”
“You may remain, for I’ll want you
to take me back to the station, and I’ll
pay you for your time,” replied Mal
colm.
“All right, sir,” said the man, going
back to his vehicle, but wondering at
the peculiar manner in which the gen
tleman was acting.
“I will see her!” cried Malcolm,
“and wring the truth from her. The*^
meaning of this scandalous note, in . . , . , , „
; loving woman who robbed you, said
justice to myself, must be explained be
fore I leave Malvern!”
He rang the bell, and again the ser
vant made her appearance.
“Tell Miss Rangton that I must
have a few minutes’ conversation with
her.”
The servant departed to deliver the
message, and quickly came back with
“Miss Rangton desires me to inform
you that it is impossible for her to
grant your request, and wishes you to ' were put on the track of the affection-
N ate pick-pocket, and two or three days
cease annoying her with such solicit a
“But she shall speak with me,”
cried the now infurated Malcolm.
“I was instructed not to admit you,”
and with that she shut the door in his
face, and locked it also,
“She is afraid I’ll force my way in
to tbehouse—as if I were some cow
ardly ruffian and not a gentleman. I
will go, for I should despise myself if 1
which it is my right to have granted
knowing the cause, to part rn this way
from the woman you love. Perhaps
I may judge her wrongly—perhaps
some persons have slandered me in
my absence, and she has believed them.
It is possible, and yet she has not act
ed like a woman who has been injured
but like one who commits an injury.
Well, she won’t see me, nor shall I try
to force her again, so I’ll go from here
and, in time, I may learn to forget
ber.”
He walked slowly, the picture of a
grief-stricken man, down the graveled
walk, but as he reached the gate, a
lady approached it from the other
side.
“My dear Malcolm,” she cried,
“what is the matter? You look as if
some great misfortune had bpfallen.
y° u -”
“And so there has, Mrs. Rangton.
Read this and judge for yourself, and
then explain it if you can,” he replied,
handing her Minnie’s note.
“I really can’t conjecture what has
caused her to write you in this fash
ion,” said Mrs. Rangton, when she had
perused the missive. “This morning,”
sho added, “Minnie was looking joy
fully forward to your coming.”
“And you don’t doubt that my af
fection for her is as great 'as it ever
was, Mrs. Rington ?” he asked, intcr-
“I have bad no cause for doubt,
Malcolm, nor will I till I have full and
sufficient proof. 1 am convinced that
there is some great mistake, but what
it is, I can neither say nor think.”
“I hope it may prove nothing worse,”
be replied, sadly. “I sought an ex
planation ofher strange conduct, but
she would not grant me an interview.
Good-bye, Mrs. Bangton, for I must
go, else I shall miss the next train.
You may tell her.-tbat I for ”
“Malcolm, you shall do nothing of
the kind. I have known you since
you were a child, and I’m sure you
would not do anything wrong or un-
manly. I have always placed as much
faith in you as I have in Minnie, Mal
colm; therefore as you say you can
not explain what has caused her to
take this sudden dislike to you, she
herselfmust do so, for your satisfac
tion and mine. Come with me into
the house; we have already delayed
too long. The sooner this matter is
cleared up, the better for all parties
concerned.”
“My pride, Mrs. Rangton will not
permit me to enter until Minnie sum
mons me, and I doubt if she ever will.
I Twice to-day the door has been slam
med in my face, as if I were some low
character, and, unquestionably, by
your daughter’s orders.”
“I did not think she could act in
such an unlady-like manner. She
s^all beg your pardon for so doing.”
SakUMrs. Rangton in her decided way.
“'Yell, as you’re resolved to stand upon
your dignity, like all you foolish
lovers—and you’re all well matched
in that respect, or there would be
more reconciliations and fewer broken
engagements—just remain where you
are till I return. I’ll find out the why
and the wherefore of this matter, and
Thezstated time had scarcely elap-
he silly creature says that she saw a
with difficulty that he managed to
I was be, but she quickly discovered
cabman to himself. “If I didn’t know
it was Mr. Rangton’s place, .I should
say it was a mad-house.”
“Well,” said Mrs. Rangton, “you’d
better pay and dismiss the hackman,
and then go in and forgive Minnie for
acting so foolishly.”
Malcolm put his band in bis pocket,
but found that his wallet was gone;
and soon made the discovery that he
was also minus his watch and chain.
“Mrs. Bangton, I’ve been robbed.”
“Yes, Malcolm, and it was that very
Mrs. Rangton, bursting into a hearty
laugh. “Well, don’t keep Minnie wait
ing any longer, but go to her, and I’ll
Malcolm did as he -was bidden, and
when Mrs. Rangton joined the lovers
they were as smiling and happy as
any two affectionate mortals could
be.
That day the proper officials -were
notified of the robbery; detectives
of embracing another man at a station
above Malvern. Malcolm got his
I watch and chain back, but not his
money; but that did not bother him,
i nor would it you, reader of the sex
masculine, if you were going to mar
ry a pretty, loving girl, with a fine
marriage portion,
THE DYING YOUNG WIFE.
They tell me, when they gaze upon
My dim and sunken eye,
I’m passing from the earth—alas!
I am so young to die!
So young to feel the tide of life
Fast ebbing from my heart;
To look on those I fondly love,
And feel that we must part.
’Twas but a few short years ago
I stood a happy bride;
And left my childhood’s early home
To test the love untried.
The future seemed so bright to me.
With joy my pulse beat high—
Life’s cup is hardly tasted ; yet,
They say that I must die.
| Ob, God! to know my pulse each day
I Is flickering and slow;
I To feel the life blood ofthe heart
I Grow sluggish in its flow!
I And when I struggle to forget,
I And smile amid the gay
I A shadowy hand, I seem to see,
1 That hookop’s me away,
I am so young, so very young,
Oh, Death ! why come to me,
Whose life is new? go seize upon
The winter blighted tree.
Take for thy prey some aged one,
Who’s seen each joy pass by,
And scarcely hath a wish to live—
I am so young to die.
They brought to night my bridal vail,
. And twined it o’re my brow ;
I seemed a shrouded nun—my face
• Is pale end sunken now.
’I forced a piteous, mocking smile,
I tried but could not speak,
To see my silken bridal robe
Scarce whites than my cheek.
The world is bright and beautiful—
The stream glides softly by;
There’s beauty on the sleeping earth,
- There’s beauty in the sky.
The lamps ofHeaven so brightly burn,
The flowers so graceful wave—
Alas! to-morrow eve those stars
4 Will shine upon my grave.
Ah ! when the heart is cold and still
That once beat high and warm ;
And when a marble seal is pressed
Above my fading form;
And when 1 slumber, calm and still,
In some lone, quiet spot,
I know that I, once loved so well,
Will quickly be forgot.
Loved one ! draw closer to me now,
I’ve something for thine ear—
Nay, weep not! from that cheek wipe off
That bitter, scalding tear.
I would but pray that when the flowers
Shall bloom my tomb above,
That thou wilt sometimes think of me
With tenderness and love.
I know thy heart is sorely wrung
With grief and anguish now ;
I see the look of wretchedness
That settles on thy brow,—
And ere yet many years have passed,
Ere many moons shall wane,
Thy.grief shall pass away,- and thou
Wilt learn to love again.-
Back, selfish tears; down,struggling!!eart!
I know that it must be;
Some other life thou’lt bless with that
Fond love thou gavest me.
I know that when the chilling grave
Hath taken me from thy side,
Thou’lt fondly woo another one
And win thy second bride.
She’ll press her lips to that warm cheek
That once mine own have pressed;
She’ll twine her arms around thy neck,
And nestle on thy breast—
And thou wilt murmur love to her
In soft and gentle tone,
While I am slumbering in the grave
Forgotten and alone.
Yet sometimes, when at evening hour
Her hand is clasped in thine—
Thy hand that in our early love
So tenderly held mine;
And sometimes, when her low-toned voice
Shall softly sing to thee,
Oh ! let thy memory awake
Some passing dream for me.
’Tis all I ask. I would not have
Thee mourn my early doom
Too long, nor shroud thy youthful heart
In never-ending gloom;
I would not have thee wildly weep
When I have left thy side—
I only ask remembrance kind
Of her thy lost young bride.
And ye, my children, motherless
Yesoon alas! must be;
My little ones, that lovingly
Have nestled on my knee-
Soon must the orphans’ fate be thine,
Its anguish deep and wild—
Oh, God ! I would thou now wouldst take
Each little angel child!
For who will soothe your infant woes
When I am gone from sight?
And who will watch beside your couch
Throughout the livelong night?
And who will join your little plays
And kiss each baby brow?
Whose heart feel sad when ye shall say
“I have no mother now !”
To-morrow ye will lift the sheet
That hides my faded face,
And wonder why I don’t return
Each timid, warm embrace.
Thou’lt wonder why my morning kiss
Thou hast so vainly plead;
And why my lips are cold and still,
Nor know thy mother dead!
Thy mother’s chair will vacant be—•
Her garments on the wall
Will useless hang, nor will she hear
Thine eager, listening call.
Her voice around the hearth at eve
Will never more be heard,
In time thy mother’s name will be
A long, forgotten word!
Farewell, my babes! God grant that she
Who fills my vacant place,
May wear, when she sha.11 look on ye,
A gentle loving face.
God grant her eyes may ne’er be stern,
II. ■ v-Au grow Mid mid nigh
In angry tones—alas! tis hard,
'Tis very hard to die!
’Tis hard to leave my helpless ones
Consigned to stranger hand ;
To enter, in my early youth,
The strange, mysterious land.
Life is so new, so bright to me,
And hath so many a tie
Of human love to bind me here—
I am so young to die!
Draw nearer yet, beloved one,
With that fond love of old—
Press kisses quickly on my lips,
They fast are growing cold.
Tell me again that you forgive
Each harsh, each thoughtless word ;
Tell me once more—for in the grave
Thy voice cannot be heard;
If carelessly within thy heart
I ever placed a thorn ;
If e’er I gave thee needless pain,
Forget it when I’m gone.
Some youthful error may have grieved
When I may know it not—
Think only of my virtues, love,
And be the rest forgot!
If ever thou shouldst miss the voice
That once to thee did sing;
if ever life should seem to thee
A bitter weary thing,
Come to my quiet, lonely grave,
And kneel in humble prayer,
And I will steal from heaven above
To meet and bless thee there !
Horace Greeley’s Daughters,
A correspondent of the St. Louis
Times recently had the pleasure of an
introduction to the daughters of
Horace Greeley. She grows rhapsod
ical about them, describing them as
both beautiful and accomplished. It
was at a reception given some litera
ry and artistic people at the residence
of Mrs. Cleveland, the sister of Mr.
Greeley. From 3 o’clock till 7 there
was a constant coming and going, two
rooms and the corridor being all the
time comfortably full. It was purely
an intellectual feast, there being no
refreshments. Mrs. Cleveland, her
two daughters (one of them an au
thoress) and the Misses Greeley were
constant in their attention to their
guests, conversing in turns with all
with admirable east. The elder Miss
Greeley is very preetty ; indeed, both
of them are charming, resembling
their mother, looking more like Italian
girls, with their dark eyes, clear bru
nette complexions and chesnut-colored
hair, than like Americans or daughters
ofthe fair and guileless Horace. They
were dressed in half mourning, and
without ornaments of any description.
Neither affects or pretends to be liter
ary, yet are well posted as to books,
and have traveled extensively, having
made the tour of Europe some seven
or eight times.
A thctrical company was dozing in
a special car, in silence, when the train
stopped and the brakeman yelled
“Elizabeth !”A ballet girl sprang to
her feet,- half asleep, and cried: “Where
Beecher ?” and then hid ber face amid
the roars of laughter which followed
the unfortunate association of names.
Your prince of tailors spemges first,
and then cuts. So do his swell cus
tomers.-
Crown poetry—Brain.
Men of colors—Painters.
Odd Fellows—Bachelors.
The last man—A cobbler.
A “maiden” speech—Yes.
An affecting sight—Barrels in tiers.
A good line of business—the fish-line.
A-veilable space—A ■woman’s face.
The question of race—Who will win.
Moonlight mechanics —Burglars.
A pair of tights—Two drunkards.
A pair of rubbers—A washerwoman’s
hands-;
Cheap drapery—the curtains of the
What kind of sweetmeats were in
the Ark ?—Preserved pairs.
What animals arc often seen at
funerals? Black kids.
The Irish areahopeful people—they
always try to wake the dead.
Time is money, and many people
pay their debts with it.
A depraved punster says he shall
smoke if he chews too.
Retiring early at night will surely
shorten a man’s days.
When a man bows to circumstances
he is forced to be polite.
Many editors are of such a peaceful
nature that they will not put a head
on their editorials.
A close observer says that the
words which ladies are fondest of are
the first and last words.
Theory may be all
young doctors and
practice.
Stop !—Red, used
very well, but
lawyers prefer
on a railway,
signifies danger, and says, “Stop!” It
is the same thing displayed on a man’s
nose.
The one thing needful for the
perfect enjoyment oflove is confidence
same with hash and sausages.
“I wish I was a pudding, mama!”
“why?” Cause I should have such lots
of sugar put into mo.”
A baby in Milwaukee, Wis. has been
christened “Zero,” in honor of the cold
Sunday upon which he was born.
Why are the days in summer longer
than the days in winter? Because its
hotter in summer, and heat expands.
A Chicago deputy sheriff was
refused free admission to a Chicago
theatre. By way of revenge be im
panelled the manager ora petit jury.
Pleasant-faced people are generally
the most welcome, but the auctioneer
is always pleased to see a man whose
countenance is for bidding.
A printer, hard of hearing, at a
spelling match the othcrevening asked
the Captain to “Write the darned
word down so a fellow can tell what
tis.”
A newspaper biographer trying to
say his subject “was hardly able to
bear the demise of -his wife, was
made by the inexorable printer to say
“wear the chemise of his wife.”
Two Irishmen traveling on the
Baltimore and Ohio railroad track,
came to a mile post when one of them
said: “Tread aisy, Pat; here lies a man
108 years old—his name was Miles
from Baltimore.”
“How
“The
First class in geography-
many States in the Union?’
books say thirty-seven, but the news
papers have it thirty-nine.” The news
papers are ahead, as usual, my son.
Go to the head.”
An attorney having died in poor
circumstances,- one of his friends ob
served that ho bad left but few effects.
“That is not much to be wondered at,”
said another, “for he had but few
causes. ” '
A Petrified Goose.
The Volo (Cal.) Mail, some days
before the 1st of April, told the fol
lowing goose story:
“While hunting in the tales near the
sink of Cache creek on Monday last,
Abe Green, an old hunter, discovered
a petrified wild goose, standing up
right, with legs buried one half in the
adobe soil.
He thought at first it was
living, and, creeping closely
his gun at it, but the bird
budge an inch. He thought
strange, and walked up to it.-
dead, and in taying th pick it
up, fired
did not
it very
found it
up, was
astonished at the immense weight. It
had turned to stone, and a mark on
its wing, near the forward point, show
ed where the shot had struck it. knock
ing a piece off ®e managed to raise
it up out of the ground, and when he
laid it down a piece dropped from its
breast, disclosing a hollow inside,
from which pure, clear water com
menced running^ Its feathers wore
very natural, and its appearance was
calculated to deceive—so life like. He
took it to his cabin, down the canal, a
few miles back of Washington, where
it can be seen by those who wish to
see such a strange and unusual sight..