Newspapers / Lenoir News-Topic (Lenoir, N.C.) / Feb. 17, 1876, edition 1 / Page 1
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' , ' '-, -' ,,i,i-.'. v " . V ' :; ' " '' ' ' ! ' ' .V V ' ' ' ' ': .''.' " V V V- ' '"I ' ' :J " ''''''' ' ' '' " ' ' "J'' " ' ''"' s' ' ' "''. ' ' IfESSENGm r i ' i 1 ' B k ,' I I ili m' mm i V I ' 11 I 1 " M I . mr L 1 ,4 M c rn1 , 1 r 111 " I I 1 I I it ' ' A'' r L SLMIAMW V V; II J II J II A - JT AS. O. NUTTY,- Publisher. mtotbd to th qiniral interists or caldwill, watauga, ashb and amacbnt counties. l" 'j"" f pI'! '"' 'J" " ' I TERMS : Sl.50 per Annum. J, I. LENOIR, N. CM THURSDAY, FEBRUARY, 17, -1870. NO, 21. ' , 4 III 8TR1KQER'8 GRAVB. II i1mp within a nwnsleu gnv. Wlwn prtng't luiniUnt blOMom For iammrt reign U nigh. Tb ioUtad wound hU tomb I bwatlf al m Edan't bloom Kr beftnty Warned to die. Her fkireet and raoet fragrant flower Kind May in bright profoslon ahowem Upon that lovely spot, Wheft the aiok heart and weary head Iteat in their last dark, narrow bed, Forgetting and forgot No drooping mourners kuool beilo That lonely grave at even-tide, And bathe it with their tears ; Bot oft the balmy dewe of night Uti It in pity, when tne light Of kindling atara appears. No love J ones breathe the holy prayer, Dot nature's incense Alia the air, And seeks the distaut sky. Her artless hymn the song-bird sings ; The dreamy hum of insect wings ; Are prayers that never die. Chamltera' Journal Two Sides to a Bureau. BY lUltltlKT PRK8COTT HI'OFKOKI. ONK 81DK. When I turned round and she was coming lu the door, I'm Bure I thought I was dreaming. If it had been the Ouoen a-comlnK in, I shouldn't have hn more surmised; and the three children with their three faces like little pigs. "Here, you," whinnered I to Benjamin Franklin, "you just go 'long and stick your face in some water, aulck metre! And give Johnny's a Hcrubblnir. too." And I wet the corner of my apron between my lips In a hurry and rubbed Sue's mouth; and then I made believe I hadn't seen her before, and dusted the other chair for her; and she sat down, and I sat down, and we looked at one another. Lord I she was that fine ! Her flounces were silk, and thev were scalloped like so many roses uud lace showing under the edges of them; and she had such loots, setting like srloves lust enough to make your eyes water. But the flowers in her hat you should have seen them I declare, you could have smelled them ! Well, nhe seemed to fill up the little room, and 11' ever I was glad of anything, 1 was glad that 1 had scrubbed the floor that very day, so that it was clean enough to eat off of glad, too, that I'd taken Jim's old hat out of the broken window and put in the smooth bottom Of a box with a good respectable-looking tack. Jim might have mended that window, for Siel a perfect Jack-at-all-trades ; but le'd rather play the fiddle than eat, and ie was a-playing it out In the tie-up hat moment, with all the wind there ws blowing. However, I couldn't complain, for he'd just mended the chair, so that it was almost as good as new, and had put me up as tidy a shelf as you please, over the stove for the brush and comb and hair-oil bottle. If I'd been a little slicked up myself, with my new print and my pink apron, or if I'd only had my bang on, 1 wouldn't 'a minded. But when Benjamin Frank lin came back with just the top dirt rinsed off, and the rest all smears, I did feel so vexed that 1 gave him as good a shaking aa a nut-tree gets in harvest. "Bless my heart!" says she, "what are you doing that for?" "Because he's so aggravating'" says I. "There, you go 'long;" and I gave him a shove. "Why," says she, "don't you remem ber how it used to feci to be' shaken yourself?" "I don't know as I do," says I. 'As If you were flying to atoms ? And your body was as powerless as if It had been In the hands of a giant, and your heart aa full of hate?" ''Whv. look a-here ,'' says I. "Be you a missionary?" "A missionary?" says she, laughing. 'No; I'm Mr. Mulgrave's wife. And I came un to see how the new house was ffettliisr on ; but the house Is so full of plaster dust inside, and the whirl wind Is blowing the things off the roof so outside, that i thought l won in ven ture In here till the cloud passed." "Oh." says I. "I knocked, but you didn't hear me." "I'm real glad to see you," says l "It's it dreadful lonesome place, and hardly anybody ever comes. Only I'm sorry everything's so at sixes and sevens. You see, where there's a family VI VUUUtVll OilIU VllKl IV 111V kSlVS T 1 II OV says I, with a lucky thonght It's al ways good to have the wood or the weather to lay things to, because no body's responsible for the elements "things will get to looking like ride out." "Children do make confusion," says she; "but confusion is pleasanter with them than plmllco order without them "Well, that's so," I answered ; "for I remember when Johnny had the measles loaf vaa f f t t Ka nnlu cfti w a 1 I'd let htm whittle the door all to pieces if ever he wanted to again. Ilere. Benny." says j, for I began to feel baa to think thnt I'd treated him so "take that to little sister," and I gave them something to keep them quiet. "I sup pose you wouldn't care for any water?" says i to ner, then. ".Not if l put some .molasses In It? I didn't know but the jvlnd would have made you dry. Yes, children do make trouble. One of Jim's songs says, 'MarTlagt does brini A Ingle Uf is beat; a trout) : The; ev boa id never double Who would b at rat. But there 1 I wouldn't be without them for all the flue olothes I used to haye when I was single and worked In the shop I worked down at Burrage's I suppose you never buy any shoes there ?" f'What makes yon suppose so?" says she, smiling. "Well, because your hoots don't look like our work ; they look like like Cinderella's slippers. Tea, I worked at Burrage'B, off and on, a ffood many years on most of the time. 1 had six dollars a week. Folks used to wonder how I got so many clothes with It, after I'd paid my board. But I always had that six dollars laid out long before pay day In my mind, you know so that 1 spent It to the best it advantage, lnere-s great deal or pleasure in that." "A great deal," says she. "That's what I say to Jim; and then he says his Is all spent before pay-day too but with a difference, you know. I suppose you've got a real good steady husband?" "Oh yes, Indeed," says she, laughing some more. "YoijLniust. to have such a nloe house as that Is eolng to bo. But there! I 5houldn't know what to do with It, and don't envy you a bit." rOh,you needn't," says she, a-twitch-ing her shoulder; "I expect to have trouble enough with It." "Not," says I "I don't mean that Jim isn't steady. He's as steady as a clock at that old fiddle of his. But sometimes I do wish he loved his regu lar trade as well, or else that that teas his trade. But I suppose If fiddling was his trade, he'd want to be wood carving all the time." "Why don't you speak to him," says she, "seriously?" "Well, you can't," says I. "He's so sweet and good-natured and pleasant that when I've got my mind all made up to give him a sound talking to, he makes me like him so, and sets me to laughing and plays such a twirling, twittering tune, that I can't do It to save my life." You see, I'd got to talking rather free with her, because she listened so, and seemed Interested, and kept looking at me in a wondering way, and at last took Sue up on her lap and gave her her rings to play with. Such rings! My gracious! one of them flashed with stones all around, just like the Milky Way. I should think it would have shone through her glove. "But," Bays, "you should tell him that his children will be growing up presently, and" "Oh, I do that," says I. "And he says, well, he'll do for the bad example they re to take warning by; and at any rate it's no use worrying before the time comes, and when they do grow up they can take care of themselves just the way we do." And are you contented to leave it so?" says she. "Well, I'm contented enough. That is, in general. But I do wish sometimes that Jim would go down to his work regular every day, with his tin pall in his hand, use other men, and come Dack at night, and have a good round sum of money In hand at once, instead of just working long enough to get some nour and fish and pork and potatoes and sugar, and then not so much as lifting his Anger again till that all gives out ; It's such a hand-to-mouth way of liv ing," says I. "And of course we can't get things together, such as a rocking- chair, and a sofa, and a good-sized look ing-glass and an eight-day clock. Not that I care much; only when a lady like you happens in I'd like to give her a seat that's softer. And there's a bu reau. Now you wouldn't believe It, but I've never owned a bureau." "Indeed," says she. "Yes. 1 don't think it's good man ners to be always apologizing about the looks of a place; and so I don't say any thing about alj the boxes and bundles I have to keep my things in, that do give a littery look; but I'm always meaning to have a bureau to put them in, if I can compass H ever. You sje, It's hard getting so much money in a pile ; and if I do happen to, why there's something I must have, like Jim's boots, or flannel aud yarn and cloth, or a little bed because you can't sleep with more than two children In one bed. And so, somehow, I never get the bureau. But then I don't give it up. Oh, I suppose you think my notions are dreadful ex travagant," says I, for she was looking at me perfectly amazed; really, lust as if I was a little monster, and she'd never seen the like. "And perhaps they are. But people must have something to am bition them, and it seems to me as though, If I ever could get a bureau, I should 'most feel as if I d got a house I" "Well, 1 declare!" says she, drawing of a long breath. "I did come precious near It last fall," says I for I wanted her to see that it wasn't altogether an impossibility, and I wasn't wasting my time in vapors "when Jim was at work up here, help ing lay out the garden. He was paid by the day, you know; Mr. Mulgrave paid him ; and he was paid here, and I had the handling of the money ; and I said to myself, 'Now or never for that bureau!' But, dear me, I had to turn that money over so many times to get the things I couldn't do without any way at all, that before I got round to the bureau It was every cent gone!" "Yes," she says, "Its apt to be so. I know if I don't get the expensive thing when I have the inaney in my purse, the money is filtered away and I've nothing to show for It." "That's lust the way It is with me," says I. "But somehow I cant seem to do without the shoes and flannel, and all that. Oh, here's your husband! That's a powerful horse of his. But I should be afraid he'd break my neck If I Was behind him." "Not when my husband's driving," says she. And she bids me good-day, and kisses Sue, and springs Into the wagon, and Is off like a bird, with streamers alt flying. Well, so far so good. Thinks I to myself: "She'll be a very pleasant neighbor. If she's ever so fine, she dorrt put on, airs. And it does you good onoe in a while to have somebody listen when yon want to run on about yourself. And maybe she'll have odd chores that' I can turn my hand to plain sewing, or elear-starohlng, or an extra help when company comes In. I shouldn't wonder If we were quite a mutual advantage." And so I told Jim, and he sala he shouldn't wonder too. Well, that evening, just at sunset now I'm telling you the real truth, and If you don't believe me, there it Is to speak for Itself Jim was a-playlng "Roslyn Castle." and I was a-puttlng Sue to sleep, when I happened to look out of the window, and there was a Jbb wagon coming straight up the hill, with something in It that had a great canvas hanging over it. "It's a queer time o' day, ' says I to myself, "to be bringing furniture into Mr. Mulgrave's house, and it not half done, either. But It's none of mv business. Maybe it's a re. frigerator to be set in the cellar." And I went on patting Sue, when all at once Jim's fiddle stopped short, as if it broke, and 1 heard a gruff voice saying, "Where'll you have It? Here, you, sir, lend a hand." And i dropped ue on the bed, and ran to the door, and they were a-bringlng It In there, look at it, as pretty a bureau as you'll find in a day's walk. It's pine, to be sure, but It's seasoned, and every drawer shuts smooth and easy; and Its painted and grained like black walnut, and there's four deep drawers, and a shallow one at the bottom, and two little drawers at the top; and in the upper drawer of the deep ones there's a place for this all parted off, and a place for that, and a place for the other ; and to crown the whole, a great swinging glass that you can see yourself in from head to belt. Just look! Oh, I tell you it's a greut thing! "With Mrs. Mulgrave's com pliments," says the man, and went oft and shut the door. I never waited for anything. Sue was screaming on the bed ; 1 let her scream. I never minded Benny's nigg ling nor Jim's laughing. I got down every bandbox ana basket and bundle I had on the shelves, got out every bag there WJUJ tuidcr the bed and behind the 'doors, and in tea ulnutcs that bureau was so full you couldn't shut a drawer. Then I took them all out and fixed them all over agih.,i);"It'8 ours, Jim!" says I; and then I just sat down and cried. TIIK OTHEK H1DK. Lawrence, I'm BO glad you ve Well, come: l thougiit you never would. And I've had such a lesson read me!" "IiCsson? Who's been reading my wife a lesson, I should like to know?" "Who do you think? Notnxly, hut that little absurd womaii there that Mrs. Jim. But I never had such a les son. Drive slow, please, and let me tell you all about it this horse does throw the gravel in your face so! I'm expecting every moment to see the spokes fly out of the wheels. There, now, that's reasonable. This horse Is a perfect griffin has legs and wings too." Well steady, Frolic steady ! now let s nave your lesson. II there s any one can read you a lesson, Mrs. Fanny Mulgrave, I should like to hear It." "Now, Lawrence! However, you know I came up to look at the house, for I've been having my misgivings about that room. Ann when I went in it did look so b'g and bare! I wits drs mayed. 1 paced it oft' this way and paced it off that way, and thought about what I could put in the corners; and how that window with the sea view would be as a picture; and how the whole mantel-piece, with Its white mar ble carvings and gildings and mirror, was a perfect Illumination ; aud how I must confront it lu that great square alooye with a mass of shadow ; and we haven't a thing to go there, and how magnificently an ebony aud gold-cabinet like that Mrs. Watrousaud I saw at the exhibition the one I went into ecsta cles over, you know that goes from floor to ceillntr would fill the plaoe. And the more I thought Jf it the more Indispensable such a great ebony and gold cabinet seemed to be. And I knew It was perfectly Impossible " "II w did you know it, may I en quire?" "Oh, they cost oh, hundreds of dol lars. And, of course, the house itself takes all vou can spare. But I felt that it would be utterly out of my pow er to make that room look anything like what I wanted without it. And I kept seeing how beautiful it would bo with those gold-colored satin curtains of your aunt Sophy's falling back from the windows on each side of It. And 1 sat down and stared at the spot, and felt as If I didn't want the house at all if I couldn't have that cabinet. And I thought you might go without your cigars and your claret and your horses a couple of years, and we could easily have it." "Kind of you, and cheerful for me." "Oh, I didn't think anything about that part of it. Just fancy! I thought you were the most selfish man in the worldj and I was the most unhappy woman; and all men were selfish, ami all women were slaves; and aud that ebony and gold cabinet was obscuring my whole outlook in life. I felt so an gry with you, and with fate, and with everything, that hot, scalding-hot tears would have shakeu down if you had happened to come lust then. I'm so glad you didn't, Lawrence dear; I i couldn't have spoken to save my life, and should have run directly out of the room, for fear. If I did speak, I should j say something horrid." "Should you, indeed? And do you Imagine I shouldn't have followed?" "Oh, I should have been running." "And whoso legs are longest, puss?" "Well, that's nothing to do with it, Just thou the whirlwind oaine up, and the window-places being open, all the dust of the building, all the shaving and splinters and lime and sand about, seemed to make a sudden lurch Into the room, and I couldn't see across it. And there I was in my new hat! And I made for the door as fast as my feet could fly." "Silliest thing you could do." . "I suppose so; for when I was out doors, the boards of the scaffolding were pitching through the air at such a rate that I could neither stay there nor go back ; and I sawjthst little sfi'nnfy Jlisf around the corner, and ran lnt"- , "That was sensible." ; "Thanks. And there-sue was,' pots and pails about the door, and a hen just mowing m berore me, and a parcel bf dirty faced, barefooted children gam bling round. And such a placet 'It fairly made me low-spirited to look at It. 1 was in rftortal fear of getting a grease spot on my dress. But 1 was In before 1 knew it, and there was no help forltjaftdthe wind was blowing bo I had fo stay." "And the -lady of that house read you a lessonf' . "fiueh ft lesson ! You'd have thought to begin, with, that it Was a palace. She did the honors like a little duchess. It didn't Aocur to her, apparently, that things were squalid. And that made It so mueh easier than If she had apolo- Slzed, and you were forced to tell polite bssnd make believe it was all right, you know. She was a tritle vexed be cause the face of one of the children wasn't clean, and afterw ard she repent 'n(?'7 gftve lilm the molasses jug to keep him quiet; but another of the children was such a little darling! Well, pres ently her tongue was loose." "Humph !'p "Ilumphf Didn't you want to hear about it? Oh, I know the whole story of my tongue, but I find you like to listen toitr "So I .do, my dear; so I do. And then I" "Well, as I was saying, presently her tongue was loose, and I had the benefit of her experience And I know she has a good-for-naught of a husband, whom she loves a great deal better thau'l love you oh yes, she does, for she seems never to have thought one hard thing concerning him, and I was thinking bo many oYyou vou know ! And there she Ib, Mid has been, with her cooking stove and table, her two chairs, a bed, and a crib, with a contented spirit anil a patient soul, and her highest ambition and her wildest day-dream just to have "An ebony and gold cabinet V" "Oh no, no! Do drive faster, Law rence. How this horse does crawl! I want to get it up to her to-night. A bureau. To think of it, only a bureau ! You needn't laugh at me. I've an aw ful cold in my head. And I mean she nliall have it, if it takes every cent you gave me for my new jacket. I'll wear the old one. 1 think 1 can get what she'll consider a beauty, though, for for twelve dollars or tlierealoiits. Drive to Veneer's please, dear. I do feel in such a hurry, when it takes such a little bit to make a woman happy." "An ebony and gold cabinet, for in stance." "Oh, nonsense! How you do love to Iftise, Lawrence! I never want to Hear of such a thing again. I wouldn't have It now." "Stop, stop, good-wife! You'll say ton much. You silly little woman, didn't you know that that ebony and gold cabinet which you and Mrs. Wat tw saw was made fur the place be tween vour windows ?" I ii niiy Incidents In the Pulpit. At lerical dinner party some time ago, says AplcVm s Journal, the question went around to each, as fol lows: "Were you ever so placed in public in the performance of a service as to lose all sense of the solemnity of the occasion and be compelled to laugh In spite of your more serious self ?" and the following are some of the replies that were made: A. very solemn clergy man ami his assistant, who were dis turbed in their chancel by a miserable looking street cat, which had come in In some unknbwn way, and was rub bing itself up against their legs, me-ow-Ing pitcously. The rector beckoned to the assistant to put the cat out, which ne did, but in a few moments she was back again. Upon this the very solemn rector placed the poor creature under one of the heavy box stools in the chan cel, and, placing his foot on this im provised kennel, gave out the hymn beginning : "A charge to keep I have." The last experience mentioned was that of a clergyman at his first baptism of infants. lie was then very young in years, and had never before held a baby thai be could remember of, much less hold a baby and a book In the presence of a church full of people. The first infant given into his arms was a big, squii ining boy of thirteen months, who immediately began to corkscrew his way through clothes and wrappings. The minister held on bravely, but in a few moments the child's face disap peared in the wraps, and his dangling legs beneath were worming their way to the floor. Seized with the horrible impression that the child was tunnel ing his way through his clothes and would soon be on the floor in a state of nature, he clutched the clothes violently by the sash-band, and, straddling the child upon the chancel-rail, said to the mother. "If you don't hold that baby he will certainly be through his clothes, ami 1 shall have nothing left but the dress to baptize." Lve. The love that survives the tomb is the noblest attribute of the soul. If it has woes, It has likewise its designs; and when the overwhelming burst of grief is lulled into the gentle tear of recol lection, then the sudden anguish and convulstve agony over the present ruins of all we most loved are softened away Into pensive meditation of all that it was In the days of Its loveliness. Who wonld root such a sorrow from the heart? Though It may sometimes throw a passing cloud over the bright hour ef gaiety, or spread a deeper sadness over the hours of gloom, yet who would exohange it for the song of pleasure or the burst of revelry No ; there Is a voice from the tomb sweeter than song; there Is a remembrance .of the dead to which we turn even from the charm of the living. . jHLmt& rate. 1'alnf If BVjt cotfflned to the natural and maturing beauties who aredoubllng the critical tjpttfhe thirties and the forties, thttrli reading the faces of the kyoiyrg woweTJi ThW palqttng of tlx Jjjy Is matter t rggret, for the Ameri can woman a (nown in an civilized lands for the Dfapty Of her complexion, the delicate mtanietfTlt being rtoognlzed iiWthe term of "theAnerlcan tint To move away from the Artistic side and loOk: on, tne moral one, It appears 'still worse. -Ten or fifteen years ago the calling of the Woman who wore a painted visage was undoubted; it was to a certain extent the sigh ef her com merce, and there are yet old-fashioned people who Judge a painted face with the eys of the past. f, "' , The motive which leads fvii to this lavish use of color is, of course, that she may become beautiful, and if she really did become so, no objection might be made, at least from an artistic point of view. But her mistake is radical she does not become so. Viewed as an ob ject of art, she Is unlovely to look upon utterly iinklssablc, atid the oscilla tory test Is supreme. it is more or less a matter of indiffer ence to man that the ugly woman should be given over to such a practice for she may not be saved in an aesthetic sense; but when the young woman en dowed by nature with a pure skin, re sorts to It, he is moved to commisera tion and regret. He is wounded In his national prid, for European fingers have tainted to the complexion of Columbia's daughter as something un attainable to her sister across the sea. The roses are too red, on the British cheeks or the fibre is too rough ; there is lack of clearness in the French j(kin, and that of the Italian is too Sallow. Remarkable purity and delicacy belong alone to the typical American iirl, and these characteristics will continue to be hers if he will avoid the vanda lic paint-box and koliel pencils. The first artist of the world has already drawn her with his gracious lines and painted her with his beautiful colors, and his name is Nature. Th? (iulnrij. An I'nreelins; King. 'i'lie French King Louis XIV., at one ierioi oi ins reign, in addition to ins other accomplishments, undertook to make verses, and received from two of the literary men of the day instructions as to the best method for succeeding therein. He made one day a little madrigal which even he himself did not think any too good of its kind, anil then sau to the Marechal de (Iramnnt : "Marechal, 1 beg of you to Ik' good enough to read this little madrigal, and see il you ever saw a more miserable affair, because people have lately learned ! that I am fond of verses and they bring theni to me of all kinds." I The Marechal, after having read them, said to the King, "Sire, your Majesty judges divinely well of everything, It is true that this is the silliest and most ridiculous madrigal that I ever read." The King began to laugh, and said to him, "Is it not true that the one w ho made it must have been a great cox comb?" "Sire, it is impossible to give him any other name." "Oh, well said the King, "I am de lighted that you have spoken so hon estly to me about it, for I am the one who made it." "Ah! Sire, what treachery ! let your Majesty give it back to me, tor 1 read it carelessly aud in a hurry." "No, M. le Marchal; first sentiments are always most natural. The King laughed a great deal at this little joke, and every one was of the opinion that it was one of the most cruel things that could be done to an oid coutier. I'rmidnnce I'irst. A Clever Tent. The Worcester Spy revives an old but good story concerning the wife of John Adams and the mother of John Quincy Adams. This noble woman was Abigail Smith, daughter of the Key. William Smith, of Weymouth, Mass. At the time of their courtship, John Adams did not appear satisfactory to her par ents. The story goes that they neglected him, left his horse standing tit the h itching-post when he visited Abigail, and denied him the hospitalities of the house. Her oldest sister was married to a Bos ton merchant, and her father preached for her a "marriage sermon." Flually, they consented to Abigail's marriage "to John Adame. After the marriage Mr. Smith said to her. "Well, Abigail, I suppose I must preach a marriage ser mon for you; but you must choose the text." Her quick-witted reply was: "Very well, I choose this text: 'John came neither eating nor drinking, and ye say he hath a devil." It is a good story, snd very characteristic of the wife of John Adams. The Earth Danger. In the preface to his recent excellent book, "The Abode of Snow," Andrew Wilson, well know n as the author of one of the most interesting works on the Chinese Empire revives the old theory of M. Adheinar that the earth will topple over one of these days and send the oceans sweeping over the con tinents. The theory Is that owing to the greater preponderance of water in the Southern Hemisphere, the greatest accumulation of water is round the South Pole: when the accumulation has reached a certain point the bal ance of the earth must be suddenly de stroyed the center of sphericity ab ruptly change far from the center of gravity, and the whole earth almost In stantaneously must turn transversely on its axis, move the great oceans, and so produce one of those grand cata clysus which have before now altered the whole face of the globe. There are two kinds of geniuses, clever and the too clever. the FOOD FORETHOUGHT.' ' - Your business will surely be attended . . to if you do h yjtturself. " Soft wonhiarul soft water should be ' j, abundant In every hbme. ' .' . With most men life is like. backgam mon half skill aud half luck. . Ood gives every bird its footffc u,t ' does not throw it into the4jest , ." Do not give to thy fflends the . most agteeable counsellbnt the'most advau- . tageous. t r 8uccesa.has sr great tendency to con-, ceal and tkfow a veil oyer the evil deeds 01 men. . - Zoroaster says : "Whqp you doubt abstain." lloyle says "Tr&mp and take the trick." He submits himsolftobesecn through a microscone who suffers himself to be caught in a passion. Carlyle says there may be a courage which is the total absence Of fear. That is when the tence 18" Detween you and the dog. It is only by labor, that thought can be made healthy, and only by thought that labor can be made happy; and the two cannot te separated with impunity. Icuxhtn. It is curious to note the old sea-margins ot human thought; each subsiding century reveals some new mystery; we build where monsters used to hide themselves. LongfelUtic. What a revolution ! The expression "Everything is lovely and the goose hangs high " corrupts the saying, "Everything is lovely when the goose honks high." The honk is the note sounded by the wild goose in Its flight, and Is' about the only music in which that bird indulges. "At the time the Diet of Nuremberg was held," says Tholuck, "Luther was earnestly praying in his own dwelling; and at the very hour when the edict granting free toleration to all Protes tants was issued, he ran out of his house, crying out, 'We have gained the victory !' Do you understand that?" The monument recently erected to Sir John Franklin in Westminister Ab bey has been mutilated in some myste rious way. about one-half Inch of the chief mast of the Erebus having been broken off. This is said to be not the only act of vandalism committed in the Abbey the head of Major Andre having been removed not less than three times. The most trifling actions that affect a man's credit are to be regarded. The sou id of a hammer at five in the morn ing, or nin&at night, heard by a credi tor, makes him easy six months longer, but if he sees you at a billiard table, or bears your voice at a tavern, when you should be at work, he sends for his money next day demands it before he can receive it in a lump. Ir; JIolland says of the two noble sciences of killing and curing; "Take the human system, and in any of the organs there are more mysteries than can Im' comprehended in a thousand years; yet, this complex organization is trusted to the country doctor, while it requires twenty-five men to make a musket. The study of a single branch of surgery is more than enough to oc cupy the whole time of the greatest mind." It is a popular belief that lightning has never been known to strike a beech tree. In a recent thunder shower in Goshen, a beech and a maple standing near togetlier, with branches interlock ing each other, received an electric bolt from a passing cloud which shattered the maple and passed into the earth through a prostrate hemlock tree lying near, which was stripped of its bark nearly the whole length. No trace of the lightning was left upon the beech. There is one noble means of aveng ing ourselves for unjust criticism; it is by doing still better, aud silencing it solely by the increasing excellence of our works. If instead of this you un dertake to dispute, to defend or criticise by way of reprisal, you involve your self in endless disquietudes, disturb that tranquility which is necesary to the successful exercise of your pursuit, aud waste In harassing contesV) that precious time which you should conse crate to your art. Cuhomi. The continued abstraction ot manu scripts, books and works of art from Roman monasteries has attracted the attention of the Italian Ministry, and energetic measures are to be taken to put an end to a profitable traffic. Not only smaller works, but large altar pieces and entire libraries find their way to the rooms of Paris and London dealers. The rumor is heightened by the assertion that hundreds of chests are sent out from the Vatican under the Papal seal, which allows them to pass free of search aud duty. Java possesses a curious fish that aquarium managers should look after. In tlte tank inhabited by the fish a stick is placed upright, projecting a few inches above the water, aud a Cy or an insect of some kind Is placed oil the top. The fish swims round the stick and examines the prey, and, after apparently measuring the distance, rises to the surface and discharges a few drops of water at the iusect, rarely fall ing to secure Its game. This "shooting" fish Is of a plain yellowish color marked with dark stripes1', and Is about ten inches long. To be without passion is worse than a beast, to be without reason is to be less than a man. Since I can be with out neither I am blessed in that I have both. For if It be not against reason to be passionate, I will not be passion ate against reason. I will both grieve and joy if I have reason for it, hut no joy nor grief above reason. I will so joy at my good as not to take evil by my joy, and so grieve at any evils as not to Increase my evil by grief. For it is not a folly to have passion, hut to want reason. I would be neither sense less nor beastly.ArtAwr Warwick - f
Lenoir News-Topic (Lenoir, N.C.)
Standardized title groups preceding, succeeding, and alternate titles together.
Feb. 17, 1876, edition 1
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