Newspapers / Carolina Watchman (Salisbury, N.C.) / April 5, 1877, edition 1 / Page 1
Part of Carolina Watchman (Salisbury, 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
" - -' ' ""' J - l . ; - - " "'- ' j y"'. J J iiiiwimMiii ij'i ii r' ..'Vi-j"i''J'"J:'1'"i'-1-- " 'iWiWJi'uWlWwriia iij.Jiiii- i 1 . . ii i n Maia mill mini "'i"" ' ' i y 1 .Tv- .3 J1SIHA 1 'Ti Hij :! I;S liH" ) H1t'riU' FAITHFUL IN LITTLE. it BY HESBY ST RET TON AutlKr or 'LostSip.V tc. L Oct of my Coustt. If it ronld do anybody good to hear my story, they are welcome to it ; ay ! kindly welcome. I'm too old now to be of any, uro aa a guide : but maybe I can still be useful as a finger-post, rthat points the irav folks rfiould follow I married )ul of my county ; my people saYd outxf my1 station. For my 'father a small farm, and the snuire's lady had seen (hat ilearned to read anil write and dd fine 'aevisfff--y husband w ojrfyt & tandliwrai weaver from the north, a man that coald weave and sing right well, but never cared much for the inside of a book. But he was true and faithful to the backbone, till learned from him something of his faithfulness, and knew it was the same as Abraham's, who was call id the father of the faithful. Words that were always on his lips were 'Faithful in little, faithtuMn much j' and it seems to me now he is gone, those words are now mv chief comfort. Wherever Transome is, he is faithful still '-It was a daring thing to marry so far away from own's people in those days There were no railroads, and the coaches were too dear for us, even the outside of tliemi, where in the summer you were .nfsriul u'illi 1iitct mill Tvu-fliel witTi tVirct.. and nippedwith frtist and wind in the winter. Transome and me did riot once think of taking the coach after we were wedded. The coach ran almost straight from niy village to his ; and though the - journey took us the best part of three days, and he was winning no inoney, i was the cheapest" way of travelling; It seems to me, when 1 shut my eyes am think of it,'as if it had atl been in --some "other world,' when Transome and me were young, and the warm sunny day were full of light and biightness, such as the gua'never 'gives how-a-days, as if the sun itself is growing-old. The boat floater slowly along the canal, whilst we walked together tillwe were tired, gathering the blossoms from the grassy banks, orwre sat on the boat, plucking the water-lilies u bv their lonst roots. 'How gently we were rocked as the. water rose beneath us the; locks I can hear the rush and gnrg ling of the water now ! And with my dim .old eyes shut, lean see Transome looking upon me with a smile, such as I shall nev erniore see again, till I behold his face on the other side of death's dark river, smiling down upon me as I reach the shore. Ah there are no times now like those old times 1 It was in the cool of the evening he brought me to his house, "standing on the brow of a low hill, with what he called a clough, and I called a dingle, full of green i trees and underwood, running down to a little sparkling river in the valley below. We could see far away from the door, and feel the rush of the fresh air past us, as it came over fields and meadows, and swept away to other fields and meadows. The cottage was an old one even then built half of timber, with a thatched roof pitch ed very high aud pointed, and with one window in it to light our upstairs room. Downstairs was one good-sized kitchen, with a quarried floor, and the loom stand ing on one side. Not a bit of a parlour or pare chamber, such as I'd been used to. . I knew Transoaio. thought often of that ; but the place grew so dear to me, I ceased tocare abont any parlour. As for the garden we worked fn it all our spare time, till many a passer-by would 6top to look! at the honeysuckle, and travellers' joy climbing up the wall, and hanging over our window in the roof; and nt the posies " the garden, the hollyhocks, and roses, and sweetwilliams, which made the air all eet with their scent After a' while, vhen father 4ind mother were dead, I for got my old honte ; and it seemed that I -had never dwelt anywhere elsef and must - dwell thero till tfionn J nfmr dare ? n rr Mppened to us; nothing save the birth, the short, short life of a little child of our only cbild; who died when he as wven years old, and could just read w us father at the loom. It was that" Jwr the sky began to grow greyer, and wind to blow more chilly about the louse. Transome was ten years older "tan me, and hp. hrm s fel his age now the lwv was done. And a time went on things became duller and Qlerjaudhis rheumatism grew worse and worse, till he had to give up his loom, and at last he could do little more than "rk out the rent by being odd man Tor landlord, who knew he could trust "'m with untold gold. .Bat aU this while the country side was caagmg even faster than Transome and e The railroads had been made, and -caun ery invented, and all the little vil- wete turning intA tiwn.nR if Iv agic. ThereHhad always been a few mills nS the course of our mtle river but 7 year more and more sprang up with "Ttall smoky chimneys, and streets were itSf ii? -U-8 built' until the dingle tree ame "a of straggling cottages, Pg up s towards our nrettv home- trM Perhaps it was because I belonged. tttoT, Z ty, and spoke in a' differ-' .TQ10a but none of the conntrv folk Jout there v - -"- vwn. uctutuj tome, auu Ti trwnl- 1. AM A. . 3 . "V" KUt shy with them and thoir rough ways. Transome himself was a quiet man, and never cared to make many riends ; so we dwelt like strangers among our neighbors,, up in our thatjihed cottage, which was as different frtm the new brick houses about it as we werc-4;o the factory people living in them. But I never felt Strange with? children, nor they with me. So when Transome was laid up for his work, "fr opened a little dame scbool for the lads and lasses living in-the houses down the dingle. . They soon flocked to mejike chickens at the cluck-clucking of an old mother hen, tul I might have filled my kitchen twice over. But my outside number was thirty, and as they paid me threepence a week each, Transome and I managed to cet along what with him woYfclng-tmhfrr fine sewing from the ladies of the town. Transome was always proud of my learn ing and now he was glad for me to earn money in that way, instead of by washing, as many a woman has to do when her man is ailing. But he did not like little ones as I did ; they pottered him, he said, and he never knew how to manage them. So after a while, whenever he conld not go to work, he liked better to lie abed up stairs, till the evening school was over, than sit in the chimney-nook listening to the hum of tlieir lessons, which, always sounded in his ears like a score of hives swarming. I used to be afraid he would bedrearvand sad in those long da vs. whilst t was as busy as- could be down stairs. But he said he had thoughts come into his head that he could not put into words, for he had always been a man of few words, fewer than any I ever met with, and as he got older they be .came fewer till. Maybe he'll know how to tell me those thoughts of his when we meet in heaven. II. A New Scholar. I have only one thing to tell you about my little school ; the only one strange thing that liappened to me all the years I kept it. " - It had been a sharp frost in the night, so sharp that the panes in the window, little diamond-panes, were frosted over with so many pretty shapes that I almost wished they could stay there always. I quite wished that the children were there tp see them. When I opened the door all the great, broad sweep of country stretching before hie was lightly powdered overwith snow, and long icicles hung like a ragged fringe to the eaves. If the dingle had lcen there, how "sparkling and beautiful every tree and shrub would have shone in the early light ! But the last bit of the dingle was gone, and a new, , red brick house stood at the end of our garden. Still the low bushes about our place were silvered over, and glittered in .the- frosty sunshine, which tliey xaught before it reached the houses below. I had overslept myself that morning, for the night before I'd been poring over a book that had been lent me, till my can dle burned down in the socket, and left me in the dark, r could not put that book down ; it stirred my heart so. But now I began to feel as if I'd been wasteful, for candles were not ilentiful with us, nor money to buy them, though I was loath to blame myself. At any rate I was behind time, and I could not tarry at the door, -but must hurry more than usual in getting breakfast over, and redding up the kitch en in time for school. Inside the house the place seemed dark and dreary, and everything was cold to the touch of my fingers. I began to think of how ailing Transome was, and how the frost would bite hira. He had not been to work for a fort-night, and the rent was running on all the while. The rent was my heaviest care. As long as that was paid, it did not matter much to me what I had to eat and drink, so that we made both ends meet, and kept out of every man's debt. But Tran some's pains had leen very bad all night; and I knew well he could not. go out in such a bitter frost, if the rent was never paid. Well ! I was down-hearted that morn jng; and I felt as if I could not afford to put more than a spoonful and a half of tea in our little black teapot, which stood simmering on the hob. I'd been in such a glow over that book the night before, it seemed as if it made me all the lower that morn hi g. I had wanted to bejloing some thing good ir the world ; trading for the Lord, so as to offer Him something more than my mere day's work, which seemed to be .all for myself and Transome. But the glow was gone I felt what a poor Old creature I was, and that I could do noth ing at all extra for Him. f 'Ally !' I heard Transome calling from the room upstairs 'are yo' asleep again ! Aw'm fair parched wi' drought.' The floor between that room nd the kitcherTwas nothing but boardsand beams, so I could hear if he only urned over in bed. I had no need to stir from the fire to answer him ; I only raised my voice a little. 'Coming, coining in a minute,' I called back, 'the tea's in the pot, and's only standing to get the strength out.' 'Aw niver see such a lass for a book,' I heard him mutter to himself ; 'hoo for gets all when hoo has a book.' That was quite true. But hearingTiim Lay to himself, and him in such pain, was ten times worse than if he had rated at me. Ay ! I'd been selfish, all in my glow of wishing to do good in the world. What better could I do than attend to the duties the Lord had given me ? He had given Transome to nurse, and take care of, and wait upon, and I'd sat nr late in the night, and overslept myself in the morn ing, while he was parched with thirst and racked with pain. Then there was the school ; and the clock was pointing to not" far from school-time, and me nothing like ready. If I could not fulfill these little , duties, how could I ask the Lord to 6et me a greater one 1 I poured out Transome's tea, and car ried it upstairs. He did not seem in the j best of tempers. ButI tooknonotice of his contrariness; for how could he be cheerful when hecouldnotlifthTs hand to his mouth, and I had to feed him with every morsel and everv sup he swallowed f At last he Very littie smile, Amij bade me go down to my breakfast. I had hardly time to eat it, before my scholars came trooping up from the dingle ; the mischievous little urchins bringing with them icicles hidden under thier jackets, which soon melted and trickled down in pools on the floor. I had need of patience that morning. y After that water was wiped away, I sat down behind my round table in the chimney-nook,, with my Bible and a Catechism, a Hymn-book and a primer before me. There were four benches across the floor, besides a small one at the end of the loom, where 1 put my best scholars, because they were out of my siy;ht there. All were full, till there was scarcely elbow room; and much care and thought it gave me how to scatter the most troublesome of them among the goad ones, like the tares and the wheat growing together until the harv est. Not but that I could have picked out the tares well enough ; but I knew it would never do to let them all congregate to gether. Maybe the Lord knows it is bet ter for the wicked themselves to be scat tered about among the good ; so I set the tares about side by-side with the wheat, but kept them all where I could have my eye upon them. The snow was lieginning to fall pretty thickly, with Lirge, lazy flakes drifting slowly through the air, for there was ito wind, when a boy near the door at qnce broke in upon a spelling-class, that stood in a ring before me. 'There's somebry knockiu' at th' door,' he' said, in a loud voice. It must have been a quiet knock, for I had not hoard it ; but then niy hearing was not as quick as it used to be when I could hear the bubbling of the river be low the diugle. Besides, the lads and lasses were alt humming their tasks. I told the boy to open the door ; and he jumped up briskly glad to put down his lesson-ltook, if only for a minute. Still when the door was open I could see noth ing but the large flakes floating in, and the children catching at them. 'Eh! but he's a gradely -little chap!' cried the boy at the door in a tone of surprise. 'Tell him to come in,' I called, bidding the class make way for our visitor. Well, well ! I never saw such a beauti ful boy liefore, nor since. He was about seven, but rather small and delicate for his years. His eyes were as blue as the forget-me-nots that used to grow along the river-side ; and his brown hair was sunny as if it had a glory round it. Some how I thought all in a moment of How the Lord Jesus Christ looked when he was a blessed child on earth. The little fellow had on a thin, thread-bare sailor's suit of blue serge so thin that he was shivering and sliaking with cold, for the snow had powered him over as well as everything else. He looked up in my face half smil ing, though the tears were in his eyes ; and his little mouth quivered so he could not speak. I lkeld out my hand to him, and called him to me in my softest voice, wishing it was as soft as it used to I e when I was young. 'What are you come for, my little man?' I asked. 'I want to come to your school,' lie said, almost sobbing ; 'but I haven't got any money ; and Irs. Brown says you'll not have me without money.' 'Who is Mrs. Brown V L asked feeling my heart strangely drawn to the child. 'She's taking-eare of me,' ho answeted, 'till father comes back; Father '11 have lots of money when he comes home. But he's been awaja long, long while ; and nobody's kind-to me now. Sometimes Mrs. Brown says I must go to the work house. Father brought nie a parrot last time he came ; but it flew away one night while I was asleep, and nobody ever saw it again.' , I felt the tears start in my own old eyes as he spoke, and all the scholars looked to mc as if there was a mist in the room. 'Poor boy r I said. 'Ana where is mother V I might have sparedhimthe question if I had thought a moment. His little mouth quivered more than ever, and the tears slipped over his eye-lids, and ran down his cheeks. 'Never mind !' I said hastily, and draw ing him near to me, closer and closer till his curly little head was on my bosom, you shall come to school, my little lad.' Yet before the words were off my tongue, I bean to wonder how it could be man aged. There was not a spare inch of bench, not even at the end of the loonr, where my best scholars sat. . Only the day before I had refused steadily to take in a boy for fonrpence a week ; ay ! six- pence a week his mother offered mo nf I would only have him, and keep him out of mischief. Besides, the8 was Traneomer laid up, and the rent running on, and six pence a week ready forjne if, I'd take itJ Still, it would costume iflothing ,,to teach the child, and it came. across me as if the Lord was saying, 'This ?s what you can do for me 5' Yes, this was the extra work i I had set me to do. After that if anybody Iiad offered .me ,fi.ve. shillings a week to send that child away ; to t take another, I could not have done lt-r Ur u n '111 be sure to pay yod.some day,1 said; the boy anxiously j whenyou'ye ta right me to write and a$k father to. come home quickly. He went away in tho ship a long while ago ; , but heV? sure to, come lmnio if rX Jvvite bira a letter. f .Sor.1 . -matte make haste and learn. May I begin this morning V 'I You shall begin very soon,' I r nswer ed, ready to laugh and cry together at his eager way, and his belief that his father would come back if he could only write him a letter ; 'tell me what your name is.' 'My father's Captain John Champion,' he said, liftiug his little head pioudly, 'and my name's Philip ; but father calls me Pippin, and you may if you like. Mrs. Brown calls me all sorts of names.' . 'Creep in here, Pippin,' I said, making a place for him. close beside me in the chimney nook. There was barely rojm for me to stir; but the little lad kept so still and quiet, with his shinning eyes lifted up to me, and his face all eager with hearkening to what-1 was teaching the other scholars, Chat I did not care about being crowded. There was a small, low chair of Willie's, my only boy who was dead, that was kept strung np to the hook in the strong beam by a bit of lope. It was a pretty chair, painted green, with roses along the back, aud many a time my scholars had admired it. But no child had ever sat in it since Willie died. When morning school was over I climbed up on one of the benches, in spite of my stilf limbs, and unfastened it. The tears stood again iu my eyes, for I fancied I could sec my boy sitting in it by the side of the lire-plaee, .and watchiug me while I was busy about my work. But I dusted it well, and set it down just in Willie's own place in the chimney nook, where Pippin was still quietly squatting on the floor ; for he had not ran away the moment school was ov er, like the other children. 'There !' I said, 'that's your seat now, my little lad. It belongs to my Willie, who's been iu heaven these twenty years, waiting for me and father. Nobody but a good boy ought to sit on a chair that be longs to him, now he's an angel.' I'm going to be a good boy now, and an angel some day,' said the child, smiling up in my face. ' The Lord help him and me !' I said to myself, as I put the room to rights after the Lids and lasses, it's not that easv to le good.' (To be continued.) THE MYSTERY OF A. OAKEY HALL. 77 Friends Believe That He Has Been Murdered. Special Dispatch to the Phila. Times. New Yokk, March 22. The most thor- 7 ough search for some trace of ex-Mayor Oakey Hall fails to establish the least clue. There have been all kinds of ru mors afloat concerning him, the one find ing most believers being that he was fish ing near Tslip, L. Ii, but word has been received from there that he is not there. Ex-Congressman Meade shows a letter from M,rSc.IIall, written on Friday after noon, in which Hall promises to meet Meade on the next day. Meade thinks that his letter amply shows that Hall had no intention of absenting himself from the city, and he thinks Hall is dead. Persons who have taken charge of Mr. Hall's of fice say they have discovered proof that he worked late into the night on Friday, and among other things wrote a list of questions that were to be propounded to those he, Mr. Meadq aud ex-Judge Solo nion were to examine for admission to the bar on Saturday. On the other hand, one Munia, a printer, says positively that heJ saw Hall in an up-town street on Monday and Mr. Sexton, aw ell-known architect, says that he rode down town with Mr Hall in a horse car on Tuesday. All this simply makes the mystery more mysteri ous. Mr. Hall's most intimate friends say they believe he has been murdered. THE FISHING INTEREST IN THE CATAWBA AND YADKIN RIVERS. His Excellency, Governor Vance, yes terday addressed a letter to Governor Wade Hampton, of South Carolina, call ing his attention to the act recently pass ed by the General Assembly of this State in regard to the artificial propagation of fish, and asking him to use his endeavors to have the obstructions to the passage of fish removed from the Catawba and Yad kin rivers after they enter his" State. He reminds Governor Hampton that the Leg islature of his State some years ago pass ed an act looking to the removal of such obstructions, and he now asks him to have this law enforced and to give him such other co-operation as will enable him to promote the propagation of fish in the two streams named. The Governor states in his letter that it is hoped to have at least a million young fishes, shad and salmon, placed in these streams be tween this time and the close of the sea son. BaU h Xew I I Ii IULL'SpiAPFEIlAqE., Away or Commits Sutcule. Ppccial Dispatch to Th.v.Phia.,Xinie.,.r, ( New. Yo?k, March 2Lr-Excitemenfc a 'fv?&hctfM JUid, . theatrical, and; legal circles tlus evening oyer 4he -sudden and .ujiexiitainetb jdisapperante of , fOakeyt .eTMjKor f-actpr sand ex:mwber d of thetTammany .ring. ;frfJiali .was last J seen jn Jjjjeltbx the janitoj.of th Tri HiRywMfh. h& bad an .office; liif coVfideutiaj ciejfc) lefthim.halfwa bojir beforo, and MrHall was then in the bes of Wmor vJIe tajked with the;cjeik about his law business and) mode, exten sive arrangements for a JuirdL (Jajwork, a Saturday, whe&a cnseln- tile Court. f Appeals w as to be prepared.- The clerk says that Mr. Hall's manner indicated that lie was to be on hand early on Saturday, and no one was more astonished at his absence than he, and this was increased as hours wore away and no communica tion Was received from the absent lawyer. His personal friends and the detectives were immediately informed of this and they have searched ever since, but not a clue have they obtained. Recorder Hack ett, Mr. Yanderpoel, Hall's former law partner, and Douglass Taylor, who are irobably as intimate friends as Mr. Hall lad, say that they believe he has been foully dealt with. It's known that Mi Hall had seven hundred dollars in cash in lis pocket the evening he disappeared, that he had taken from bank that day. They think that he was put out of the way for this inoney. Others believe that he has committed suicide. They say that he has of late been depressed in spirits. Everything he put his hand to after the downfall of the big ring has failed. He said to Recorder Hackctt, less than a week ago, that it seemed impossible for him to win a law case ; all the judges were against hiin and he had lost them all. 1EAUS OF EXPOSURE. The return of Ingersoll, Tweed, Swee ney and other ex-ring magnets, and the belief that prevails that there are to be new developments in the ring frauds, have unquestionably worried Mr. Hall, who, as Mayor, is believed to have wink ed at the rascalities, although nothing has been moved against him. Then. too. there has been a theatrical scandal freely circulated, in which his name is coupled with that of a fair young actress, and this is said to have greatly annoyed him. These facts are mentioned by those who believe that Mr. Hall has committed sui cide. The actors who were well acquaint ed with him, Fiske, Daly, Brougham and others think that in a sudden whim he started for Europe. Charles S. Spencer thinks he has gone off secretly to begin life anew under a new name. Judge Bra dy thinks he has gone crazy, and has flung himself into the river. Two or three men have been found who say Hall said to them that he was going out of town for a week, but his confidential clerk will hear to nothing of the kind, believing that Mr Hall has been foully dealt with. Super intendent Walling is Hall's personal friend. He has put the entire detective force to work. None of those who had enjoyed Mr. Hall's fullest confidence can under stand what the sudden disappearance means. Mr. Hall was on trial three times for neglect of duty as Mayor, but was not couvictied, the jury twice disagreeing ami the trial once being ended by a jurymau'a death RAISING A TEMPEST IN A TEA-POT "We regret to see," says the Avoonian "that numbers of the papers of the State persist in unconscious misrepresentations of the bill as passed by the Legislature for from the positions taken it is evident that they do not know the law. As one of the effects of these false impressions created by misstatements by the papers of our State, we note the action of the deal ers and manufacturers in Baltimore, in which they propose to advance the price of fertilizers $1 per ton, to purchasers in our State, to meet the tax. lhe men in that meeting were misled as to the true purport and meaning of the act, and it dow, , by our own for nt the time of their meeting they could not have known what the law is. And we venture to assert that there wasiiot a standart fertilizer represented in that meeting, if the representative knew what wasrequir ed bv the law. "It is calculated that the farmers of North Carolina paid last year, three mil lion dollars for commercial manures, and upon reliable data, it is estimated that ONE MILLION DOLLARS WAS PAID rOIt SAND. We learn that a Baltimore firm (and we suspect it was represented An that meet ing) sold to one of our farmers last year, a large lot of fertilizer, which, upon actu al and careful analysis, showed that it contained 57 per cent, of pure sand, and although the farmer has instituted pro ceedings for damages, he will be unable to recover, owing to the defects in our laws on that subject. "No manufacturer can, or will object to the law, provided he deals in a standard article he will see that it drives out com petitors in spurious and worthless goods, and gives him the amplest protection in the sale of meritorious fertilizers. The Grange not only requested the Legistature to impose this tax, but it framed and pre sented to that body all the essential fea tures of that bill; and by it they are willing to stand or fall." made, while occupied lyj great revolution, and as the Hotel de Londresjin tho RafciStyariritfiyStt Honpre.' The I Club Whfci J gridedPtW destinies tbo1revdjutdirrhigf8om few yeaw,adtoxbAa&e af'-'anowihgj hjddera frose saisiiSHblfatthetV member w hose-interest might kad binV7to and tho naembersi'by -Vctfe 'iiadassed a Sinn. .It didntlalnfaislttstJeHdl W whicXelititWjhfe but shone forth" aT? fclitf ittfufr from any part icuhisookc ant partinalar, i8ize and brigrnessllSithTt&beenof In- sway iheopteion othe Cluby Robespirfe;'j aefcauHn tkntfk fctf tiiWnalefl whoge ambition had -rendered him aH'Ob-J costeJwtici,f im September"; l604,a n ject i&f, suspicion, ba4''ofte .been-TOted ya idiMOTereflictjOptaclJrrfi'I' Ial out of. the assembly fan&& 4ias leffailo2QMttafca auatie of wprtBU4Uj4i4 time, that he could so long maintain his ' two yeariTnnSISaf influence inj spite of the violence of the which has continued in existence since its opposition thus permitted. The secret is j apparent creation, Byjhe aid of the tel now revealed. A small room a hiding- espectroscope an instrument combining place in thb thickness of the wall has j the telescope and the spectroscope jt. jusi ueen discovered, opening by a trap- door into the very hall where theleliber- ations were! being carried on, and hence j he could listen to the measures to be ta- en again st.liim, and thus forearmed, have power to defeat them. It is evident that this hiding-place must have been occupi ed by Robespierre ; and when first enter ed by the workmen the traces of his pres ence,were still visible in the journal which j ay upon the table, and the writing-paper, i om wLicb had been torn a small portion, as if for the purpose of making a memo randum. The only book which was found in the p'acij was a volume of Florain, open at the secoiid chapter of Claudine. It was covered with snuff, which had evidently been" shaken from the reader's shirt-frill, and bore testimony to the truth of histo ry which racords the simplicity of the lit erary taste i of Robespierre. His presence seemed still to hang about that small space, as t'iough he had quited it but the moment before ; and, singular enough, the marks of t!ie feet, as though he had re cently trodden through the mud, were still visibloi on the tiles ofwhich the floor ing is composed. Potters American Monthly. This is not the only Christian country in which the ashes of the dead are not al wavs cherished with reverential interest. In the. foulest corner of the dirty solitude of St. Paul's Convent Garden, London, lies Samuel Butler, the author of "Hndi- bras7' witltout stone or mark to distin guish his grave. In the same place, ly ing under a cake of the accumulated filth of half a century, covered with old shoes, broken- bottles and offal flung from neigh boring windows, are the graves of Sir Pe ter Lely, Dr. Walcot (Peter Pindar), Car Earl of Somerset, Sir Robert Strange, the greatest engraver England has ever seen ; the dramatists Wycherly aud Southern, and the aefcbrs Haines, Estcourt and Mack lin. In St. Giles-iu-the-Fields, all trace of his grave lost, lies Andrew Marvell, and crumbling to pieces in the same deso lation is the monument of Chapman, the translator, of Homer. In St. Anne's Soho William Hazlitt reposes among rubbish and bottles, and his headstone removed to another spot. In old St. Pancras, tombs gape open in a filthy solitude of nettles and elder trees, containing illustrious law yers, soldiers, statesmen and noble French exiles ; ard near by is the stone which m:irl.' t.hfl irrnvM of William Godwin nnd Mir WAllktnnrmft.. W lwwW 1.W - ever, have been removed. In St. Martins-in-the-Fields have passed away all traces of the graves 'of Nell Gwynne, John Hun ter, the great surgeon, and Mrs. Centlivrc. All this were scarcely worse than the fact that over the graves of John Milton, Pope, Thomson, Akenside and Bolingbroke pewsliaye been built according to vari ous needs, anil that the sites cannot now he recognizid. If such desecration is al lowed the. grarves of men of national repu tation what can be expected for the rest of mankind:! St'NS IN FLAMES. From the New York orld. The catastrophe in the steller system the conflagration of a star which caused so much coihmotion in astronomical cir cles a few months ago, is made the subject of an articles in Eelyravia (March) by Rich ard A. Proctor. He says that this catas trophe hapieneor probably a hundred years ago ; the messenger which brought the news td us, though travelling at a rate sufficient to circle the earth eight times:in the course of a second, had trav ersed millions upon millions of miles be fore reaching us last November. If a sim ilar accident happened to our sun: the creatures oa that side of the earth turned towards hint would be destroyed in an in stant, and the rest VtTy .quickly after wards. The-heavens would be dissolved, and the elements would melt with fervent heat. The question is asked whether the earth is in this danger, and whether warn ing would be given of the coming destruc tion. The answer may beathered from the facts mentioned in the article. There have been other conflagrations before that which was made known last fall. The first on record observed by Hipparchus occurred 2,000 years ago. It was seen blazing in full daylight, showing that it was many times brighter than Sirius, the blazinir dog-star, irwas call a new star because it had ever been invisble until it tj v ; 1- ultinlf fllljf Hon appeared injhq iffilpx ;ens between Ce'phens and Casslopera three h times, A. D. 945, JSoOsrcland is expect- tdtexm$$F fffiOT1 TnteStaV'rclfc larger Ihan Jupter ffml TrigTife? tfihMl iconit Ia-lSSffc FtJhricTurobsfer- lounu mai me increase in, ine stara f bght rendering the star visible wasd.ue,tOi the abnormal heat of the hydrogen .sur- rounding that remote sun. But it could not be so easily decided whether this hy- ? drogenwas aglow with the heat of th04 star or whether absolute combustion waa in process. In other words, was it as a red-hot piece of iron, or like a red-hot coal ' These star conflagrations, it is be T lieved, are caused by contact with other heavenly bodies meteoric flights. travel ling on eecentric patljs, or those in atten dance of the comets. . The meteors atten-, dant on- a comet continue to follow in it4 path years after the comet has disappear ed. The tail of the comet of 1843 must ' actually have grazed our sun. Newton's comet nearly approached it. At any time we might be visited by a comet mightier than either, travelling on an orbit inter secting the sun's surface, followed by flights of meteoric masses enormous in suie and many in number, which, falling upon the sun, would excite its whole frame to a. degree of heat far exceeding what he now emits.AYe have evidence of the tremen dous heat to which the sun's surface would be excited in such a case. In 1659 tw meteoric masses came into contact with the sun. The downfall of these two bod ies only affected the whole frame of the earth at the very time when the sun had been thus disturbed. .Vivid auroras were seen where they had never been seen be fore, accompanied by electo-maguetic dis turbances all o ver i the world. In many places the telegraph struck work, the Big- nal-men received severe shocks, and at Boston a flame of fire followed the pep. of Bain's electric telegraph, which writes the message upon a chemically -prepared, pa-, per. This was the effect of two meteors. . The effect of a comet,t bearing in 7 its , flight many millins of meteoric masse (falling upon the sun should that Jake place can be understood. Our sun, seen, from some remote star whenee-' ordinarily . he is invisible would" shine out as a new sun for a few days, while all things living on our earth and whatever other members of the solar system are ' the abode of life would inevitably be destroyed. If a com-1 et came out of that part of the constella tion Taurus, arriving in such a time as to fall upon the sun in May or June,' the light of the sun would act as a viel, and we should be instantly destroyed without knowing anything about it. If it fell in November or December, we should sec it ! ov tek8,andastronomers wouldbeibleto tell us when it wouldfall upon the' sun. The disturbance' upon the sun would be tem porary, but there would be no students of " science left to record the effects'. "viThe chances are largely against such an ac cident. Our sun is one among millions,' ' anyone of which would become visibleto4 the eye under suh an -accident, yet da ring the last 2,000 years, Jess than twen ty such catastrophes have been recorded.5 Mr. Proctor moreover, reassure as in an other w ay. He says in effect that all bat one of these conflagrations have appeared ' iii. the zone of the Milky Way, and that one in a region connected with the Milky ; Way by a well-marked stream of stars j that the process of i development is still going on in that region, but that if there be among the comets travelling in regular!' attendance upon the sun one whose orbit intersects the sun's globe-it must have struck before tho era of man, and that in our solar system we may fairly believe that all comets of the ' destructive sort ' have been eliminated, aud that for many" ages still to come the sun will continue to discharge his duties as fire' light and life of the solar system. ' ' ' A sad sight is witnessed every daj at the executive mansion in the crowds of poor women who flock the ante-cluvmber; ' hoping by pergonal appeal to President Hayes to obtain employment in the pub lic service. Many of them have in th last few days pushed their way, into the rooms where Mrs. Hayes receiyes and pit; eously appealed for her persona jnterces? sion in their behalf. It has become so r ' , r. -. f ' t ein harassing t,hat orders hare been issued providing for admission to lira, ajrea " only by card. Washington Letter. A farmer in Rowan county request jm to ask some Agricultural writer, for a remedy to kill Buttonwoodjt) in mehdow He says he has lived fiiH'earH and alwat 4 been a fanner, and has never been able to kill it, although he has tried fcaljt, Jim and ahes. Char. Democrat.
Carolina Watchman (Salisbury, N.C.)
Standardized title groups preceding, succeeding, and alternate titles together.
April 5, 1877, edition 1
1
Click "Submit" to request a review of this page. NCDHC staff will check .
0 / 75