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j, L. 0.rVABD, Editor 4 Proprietor. I j ;- -y; 'IgtljiTlie Organ of the Koanoke andTlbemarlo Sections. - ' -j mnTLl L . ' ' ' ' ; A SONG. O west ward-going bUia, I fain Would follow in your wake Till over prairiej rirer, plain, I saw the new day break. . O westward-dropping stars, ye Unfettered. Ye can see a Of all the world can giro below The deareat thing to me. ' O westward-hurryin? stars, bear true The message that I give : O tell her what I tell to you Vnr hflr ftlnnn I live. , - - 1 Yet westward-rolling stars, ye ocane Again from her to me : Tell her the thought of her isihpine! i Bring'answer Whafsay she Margie's Promise. The boat-house was competed." It was roomy and substantial, though the spiles on which it rested infringed upon Xeptunes watery domain. Thjet young gentlemen who composed the blub had Tssued invitations for a social entertain ment, and our story commences upon that evening. ' II It was a unique affair, the more en- iovable for its accessories. The shells, tapering to a long, very thim delicate point, from a centre large ehpugh to hold a full-grown man, were dawn up in their polished completeness ana fast ened to the ceiling. Here and tljere a dainty silken banner cought toe light, a trophy of some member's yiitory in a friendly trial of skill. Flags draped the wals, giving the needed touchlof color to the oaken beams. A gayly apcoratea barge floated upon the surface, broad river, at the option of aby of the party who desired a moonlight sail. j Two young I stranger guests were standing beside the stairway leading to the dressing room improvised for the occasion, noting the arrivals. J A young lady entered, leaning on the arm of a gentleman. As she left her es cort! and ran lightly up stairs, she flashed a swift glance around fom eyes so large and lustrous, that Bert Evarts involuntarily quoted the words of the poet about "sunshine in a shadl p ace, as he stepped impulsively forward His friend laid a Restrain! Eg upon his arm. ..'.-If 'Softly, old fellow-not too;fas hand The r. girl is a beauty, I'll allow, bii phe is spoken for. I know Mr. Liyiigstone, and he's an engaged main. Put two and two together, eh?" ; Bert's face expressed volumes said : ' . , j as he '1 never yet was struck witl girl's face but what it had to be the Name old storj- engaged !" Walt laughed. "Try if he's a foeman worthy, of your steel; in plain English try to cut him out." ff Bert's indolent face kindled (with sud den fire. I I 'lf anyone else but you had said that, Walt, I'd take it as an insult! girl who would be faithless isn't "worth a second thought." Diuring the evening Bert Evarts and He Marerie Eustace were introduiced. was a handsome fellow, brimful of ro mance, and something in the expression of her large, wistful; eyes put him upon his metal to entertain her in ahrexy dif ferent way from his usual conversation to a! young society belle.' No stereotype commonplace left his lips, bui Instead they talked of poetry and her twin sis ter art. j Through it all he was conscious ot a subtle undercurrent of sadnessl like the minor tone which oftentimes plaintive meaning through witching strain of music. thrills its some be In thii chlvilric idea of woni tQe rumor of her I engagements jriade her seem as inaccessible as was the distant moon whose silver crescent shone above him as they stood upojifttie bal cony., ; J'. After a time he resigned hex to her i f j ,i escort, and could not but notice the change in her manner. She ba4 seemed so interested and animated,! and had smiled so merrily at his witticisms ; but in Mr. Livingstone's society she seemed a veritable ice-maiden For days after the girl's faee dwelt persistently in liis mind, aria at last drew him to the city where she lived, might of her lie thought another meeting proVe the haunting memoir beautv to have been over-drawn by fancy, and thus lay"it to rest.j Mrs. Eustace was sitting in her room. Her handsome, matronly facj wore a look of depression which was foreign to it. lier disposition was so sunny that a sigh1 from her awoke an echo through the family it was a sound so tm wonted. Her present uneasiness was not without cause. ' j j jj ' ' . -! , Her precious Margie, her only child, was strangely changed. Herj 1 moods were variable. Sometimes she would not smile for days, and theij j n, fitful gayety would take possession of her, as natural to her evenly poised nature as it would be to hear the song of a canary from the throat of i nightingile. All thi' gave the loving mother food for serious thought. - -The door opened suddenly. Margie came in, and handed her a letter and a package. , I B he was flushed and nervous, but her manner was decided 'as she said : i K "Mother, here is a note I have written to"Mr.: Livingstone, to tell him that I wish to be released from my engage ment. This package contains his ring. I will never wearlt again." ; 1 'Margie ! You cannot mean it! An engagementis.not to be putoff as easily you WbuiasTglove. My little girl cannot find it in her heart j to treat a loyal gentleman so capriciously." She laid her hand gently on Margie's head and smoothed its dark locks ten derly as she spoke. "Mother," she answered sadly. "I have been coming to this resolution for months. I respect Mr. Livingstone, but I do not love him." "Do you realize, child, that it is a sin to trifle with a human heart? You are betrothed to him and it is too late to say that you do not love him. You should have decided earlier." Margie broke in excitedly. "It means life or death to me I The more I see him Jhe less I like his society. I nave never allowed him the slightest caress, and the thought of a kiss from him" "Margie!" i "It is true! And if it had not been for you and papa we would never have been engaged. I told him jthat I did not love him at the very first, and he said ir I would promise to be his wife, friendship would change into a warmer feeling, ajid if it did not he would be satisfied. if-I did notlovei-another." She $esitated, and her voice sank to a low, plaintive tone which went straight to her mother's heart. She .drew the girl to her and kissed her soothingly. "Tell me the whole truth. Do you love some one else?" Margie hid he ace on her mot he r's urease. . T. ' 1 It was enough. Mrs. Eustace asked to know no more. The painful interview was ended by the mother's promise to see Mr. Living stone ; and break the truth to him as gently as possible. Mr. i Livingstone read Margie's frank, stralgh tf or scard. letter. The girl?Jacart was full of pity, notwithstanding her decision; and she said if it would make him any happier, she would promise to remain single, and thus atone for occa sioning him the pain of rejection. He turned very pale as he read. After a moment's thought he turned to Mrs. Eustace: r . "Tell Margie she has donejright. I do not blame her. A marriage without love is a mockery, and I thank her for her frankness. Tell her also that it is but right in her to make some little atonement for what she has caused me to suffer. . I accept her promise In the same spirit as it is made." Tears came to Margie's eyes when her mother brought this letter to her, but the tears of youth are but April show ers, and her eyes, like the violets, shone all the bluer for them; and her voice soon rang out again , with all its old joy ous melody, as she flitted from room to room arranging and re-arranglng them with an interest which had long been wanting. 1 i Sometime after this Bert and Margie met at a party. He had been making inquiries about her, and had just heard of the broken engagement. He said : "I hope Miss Eustace is justifiable in her action. I cannot imagine jthat she could do wrong. She always seemed to me to be raised to a higher altitude than other girls; but from my heart I despise a jilt." j i He raised his voice unconsciously, whe'n a warning touch upon his arm checked him. He turned and saw Margie. : . -;. ; Her large eyes were full of reproach. She had evidently overheard this last words. lie tried to make amends for his In cautious speech, but Margie knew the secret of her wayward heart, and her maiden delicacy was swift to erect bar riers against his betrayal, t Bert was as much charmed with her character on further acquaintance as he had been at first by her beauty, but as time passed on he wa3 in despair. He could not understand her. She was a "rose-bud" of a girl, but most certainly was set about with wilful thorns. At last an accident told him the truth. They j were invited to join a gay yacht ing party. While at the height of en joyment a playful little child overbal anced himself and fell into the water. Without .a moment's hesitation Bert sprang in and succeeded in grasping him as he rose to the surface. Climbing with his insensible burden into the yacht, the boom swung around : and struck him on the temple. , ; Eager hands caught the child from his arms, and kept him from j falling back into the water; Theyj laid him, pale and apparently lifeless, upon some cushions cabin. brought hastily from the Margie's reserve was forgotten In her anguish. She knelt besides him regard less of the surrounding company, and called him endearing names in low pas sionate tones. ' ; !j Her voice recalled him to life. He opened his dim eyes, and smiled faintly ; then, with a long quivering sigh sank back into unconsciousness. As the yacht turned homeward, a mournful quiet replaced the merry making, for Bert was a great favorite. He was taken to his rooms and a I -capable nurse procured. .- He lay for week? vibrating between j life and death. At last the crisis came and he began to mend slowly. Margie's passionate words, as she thought him dying, had echoed through his mind during his illness, and had helped to lure him back from the world of shadows which had peopled his de lirium. He called one day and asked to see Margie. Tears filled her eyes as the pborv pale young fellow rose to meet her, and poured out his heart's desire in a flood of eloquence. - ' i - , She clasped her hand so tightly to gether as she listened, that she left the imprint of her nails in the tender palm. . I '4 "Mr. Evarts, you make me very un happy. I hope nothing in my conduct has led you to make this proposal. If so, I am a cruel, wicked girl! 'For I cannot marry you." I "Do not give me an answer now. I will wait any time if you will only let me hope." Bert was still weak from his illness, and his voice broke the disappointment was too great. He sank into a chairs arid covered his eyes with his hand. Hej was so pale and attenuated, so different from what he had been. Margie stood a moment, her face agi-l taced by conflicting emotions; then she made a resolve. 'Mr. Evarts, I am bound by a solemn promise to one who unselfishly released me from my engagement. I shall never marry. I hope you will forget that such a girl as Margie Eustace is in exist ence. I seem fated to make all who love me wretched," Bert rose to his feet: j. Answer me one question. Did I U roam -o-w wM4t rnnf Voioa lrtT7t-'""i" called' my senses when I was so nearly; dead?" -rHe was answered by the sudden I tide; ofNcrimson which dyed the girl's face. He saw that she, too, was suffering,; and he would not make her trial any harder to bear. Thank you; I shall carry away into exile the thought my love was not an unvalued gift. Good-bye; God riess you!" " Margie had straggled for calmness, as much for Bert's sake as for her own, but she burst into a passion of tears as the door closed upon him. Her prom ise should be faithfully kept; but her love for Bert was stronger than life, and she knew that good-by" was a final parting. i I Two or three weeks after she received a farewell letter from him, written on the verge of his departure for Australia. It was better thus. The wider the dis- i - - f tance between them the less chance of a painful meeting. , - " f Time rolled oh. Margie, in a quiet way, was happy. She , found too many duties to attend to in the miniatune world of home, to spend her .' time in useless laments. tit was fully five years since she had received Bert's farewell letter, and dur, lng that time she had not heard froml him. She had passed from her Vteens" into her ''twenties," and "sweet j six teen" began to call the beautiful girl of twenty -three old maid. But more dis criminating eyes thought her more in teresting at that age than when younger. i j One day a gentleman called and sent up his card. As she read the name Bertram Evarts her heart gave a Wild throb. What could his errand be?. She went int the parlor. A tall, bearded man came forward to meet her no longer the slight boyish-looking Bert qt her remembrance. He held her hand, as his eyes rested lingeringly on her face. Then he gave her a letter and withdrew to a little distance while she read it. What were her emotions as she read : JMargik: It was a severe test to give a young girl, but you have stood it no bly; 1 thought it was right that ! you should suffer a little as well as myself; but I now think it proves that such self ishness showed me to be unworthy of a woman's love. j jl absolve you from your promise, as freely and fully as time has freed my heart from pain. i ! ; Evarts Is my dearest friend, and jit is through his tender care and nursing that 1 live to tell you this. I have heard the story of his love, and hope that his long waiting will be rewarded. Your friend, Thaddeus Livingstone. "Margie!" She turned as in a dream. Their eyes met. ; r ! . " Mv own darling. " murmured Bert's deep voice, and Margie's sigh of content, as her lover drew her to his bosom, told of happiness too deep for words. ' - ' . , . ' Champnamg In Old Timet. ! According to the oldest historians. the fame of champagne extends back to the- end of the eleventh centnrv. under the reign of Pope Urban XL The Ay I wine, which that Pontiff prized above all others, was then a red sort, not unJika Bouzy wine, which-also has had; its day of great renown. St. Remy left by will ten casks of this sort to his nephew and to some priests of 'the Church of Rhiems. At the coronation of fhilip of Valois, in 1328, this wine cost six livres per cask; at that of Charles IX., more than two centuries later, it sold at the rate of 34 livres a cask. For many years the wines of the Alarqnis de Puisieux, Lord of SiK lery and Verzenay, were the most es teemed at the Court of France, and were reserved for the royal table. The vineyards that produce them are ex posed to the rising sun; those of Haut villiers, Izy and Ay lie on hills having a southern exposure, and produce bet ter wine thin those of Cramont that are exposed to the north. The Mai son Mu&tique, printed in 1658, mentions the wine of Ay as a delicate claret reserved for Kings and Princes; but it was only about 1670 that Ay was turned in to a per fectly white wine, as we learn from a later edition of the same work printed in 1736. On the 9ch of January, 1737, Berlin de Rocheret, possessor of Ay, senj; two cases of rose colored wines to M. de Subecourt for from 150 to 300 livres. This sort was a great novelty at the time. In 1744 it was sold at Ay for $00 livres i cask. But half a cenT tury before people had begun to talk of 'jvin de Chimpagne mouseeux." It became first know in 1692; its fame rose to is height ioj 1710-'15, but abated a little' subsequently, a suspicion having arisen that the wine was frothy because it was drugged.! The discoverer of this champagne was Dom Perignon, a Bene dictine of the Abbey of Hautvillers, who found that wine bottled immedi ately after being made, and kept till May, would froth. This sort went a long while under his name; it used to be sold for 1000 livres per queue of the capacity of 400 lif.res. Dom Perignon .i f ii tuecret ot ma King wmrajwme witii red grapes away with him when he departed this life, 1765, at the ag'e of r"7 '. i 4. Of What Jewels are Composed. i Very few persons who admire or deal in precious stones are acquainted with the internal structure of these valuable minerals; and most persons will be as tonished to learn that these bodies ap parently so solid and homogeneous, are often full of minute cavities, which in close a fluid. Sapphires generally contain fluid cavities.. Sir David Brewster met with one! no less than the third of an inch long, but other authors have seen none more than one tenth of an inch in di ameter. These are usually half filled witji a mobile and highly expansive fluid, which is considered to be car bonic acid. Sapphires are composed of pure alumina, colored by metalic oxide. Tho ruby- is also colored alumina. Cavities, weare told, are far less nu merous in these than sapphires, and, moreover, they appear to contain only water or a saline solution. Occasion ally, a liquid with similar cbaricteristics to that seen in sapphires, is seen, but not often; and we are thus led to sup pose that the stone may be produced by different reactions and under differ ent physical conditions. Emerald8are often full of cavities which contain a liquid that does not expand when heated, and is apparently a strong aqueous saline solution. The diamond is, of course, the most interesting of all our precious stones, the origin and mode of formation of which has always been a great: puzzle to J chemists and mineralogists. Its structure has already been studied by Goppert, who discovered what he con ceived to; be organic remains, and hence infers that the diamond is the result of vegetable decompisition under peculiar conditions. Sir David Brews ter first noticed fluid cavities in the diamond, and explained the. optical peculiarities of seme diamonds by their prejsence. But diamonds sometimes inclose minute crystals of a different mineral, to which circumstance they also owe, in part, their peculiar optical properties. In the diamond, also, the inclosed liquid appears to be carbonic acid, as shown by its extraordinary ex pansibility. Only one other known liquid has anything like an equal rate of xpansioD, and that is nitrons oxide, The occurrence of this body in minerals is, it is said, highly improbable,; and it seems, on the whole, that we i may be justified in including liquid carbonic acid among naturalJiquid mineral sub stances. ' r . As laughter enables mirth and sur prise to breathe freely, so tears enable sorrow to vent itself patiently Tears hinder sorrow from becoming despair, and laughter is one of the privileges of reason' consigned to the human species. I . t rr iXlTKela. the 3'w citv ofiiMifh. J ' -VH . Utopian cities iave been constructed by the fertile imagination of dreamers almost from timH mmemorIal, and yet the real cities off jjthe world have ad vanced toward tise ideals with slow and lagging steri It Is not a difficult thing to construjjp in fancy a well-arranged and we-governed city, and every ruler of a jpty, can paint the pic ture; but how it then, that recog nized principlesjand admitted necessi ties are of so little' avail ? - The marts and capitals of tire world have for the most part struggled into their greatness without much purpose, order or fore thought; they have been altered and tinkered a good deal as opportunity has occurred or circumstances made urgent ; but, as a rule, they have not been con structed in accordance with any given design, or any definite end. We hate to take our cities as we find them, just as If they were so many wildernessess, which settlers hew into shape as best they can, conscious that it is impossible to transform them at will Into blooming plantations. f These struggles with adverse condi tions only serve to make more enter taining all the Ideal projecte of reform ers and idealists. ' We here, in New York, find it difficult to secure such ele mentary felicities as honest rulers and clean streets; but it is no reason why wej should not thoroughly enjoy read ing and thinking Of cities of the millen nium. The latest ideal of this nature is the city of Hygeid, drawn in charm ing lines and fascinating colors by Dr. Kichardson of London. Hygeia is, of course, a model city of health. A phy sician of long study and observation would be sure to let his imagination dwell on cities where perfect sanitary regulations , banish ! fever, wise fore thought render epidemics impossible, anci wholesome food and healthful habi tations hold all disease in masterly check. The Utopian cities of poets, artists, merchants, or pleasure-seekers, would naturally be of different' condi tions; yet poets, artists, merchants, and pleasure-seekers, would all be glad to have the healthful charm of Hygeia In corporated In their own visions. Health, obviously must be the corner-stone of All Lin studying Dr. Richardson'-. plan-f or a model " city, readers here must be struck by the many suggestions which have been anticipated by American builders. "All the streets of Hygeia," says Dr. Richardson, Vare wide enough to admit of cheerful sunlight and fresh air, and rows of trees are planted be tween the foot - ways and carriage ways. " This picture would naturally occur to one, familiar with the narrow and treeless streets that so, abound in European cities. 'All the Interspaces,' quoting again from j the description of this ideal Hygeia, 'are laid out In gard ens;' then all the larger houses are pro-, vided with lifts, up which provisions and stores are to be carried ; hot water from the kitchen boiler, and cold water from tanks, are toi be.j distributed by means of pipes into the sleeping rooms ; every floor or story is to have a sink for waste-water, "whereby the carrying of the , uncomfortable j slop-pail up and down stairs is rendered unnecessary;" every floor has an opening into a dust or ash shaft, which descends to a dust bin under the basement of the house; on the landing of the middle or second story is a bathroom supplied with hot and cold water; all domestic offices of every kind are to be within the four walls of the building. These details of domestic comfort, generally found In recently built houses In leading Ameri can cities, prove how much In certain particulars European dwellings are be hind our own a fact which every tra velled American has discovered. But if in certain domestic details we have anticipated Hygeia, our cities in many things most emphatically show the need of a little wholesome plant lug and dreaming. In Hygeiai there will, we are told, "be no occasion for those unsightly concomitants of London sani tation, scavengers' carts. The accumu lation of mud and dirt in the streets is washed away every day through side- openings into sub-ways." In New York it is the too frequent absence of scavenger-carts that we have to deplore; in truth, if we could reach the height of London or Paris neatness In this matter, we should almost fancy we were already abiding in Hygeia. Among other features of the new Ideal city, we find the garden on the roof, which readers familiar with Apple ton's Journal will affirm is not original' with Dr. Richardson ; then the kitchen is to be placed at the top of the house, where "hot odors, being lighter than common air, pass away without con taminating the living and sleeping apartments." If the kitchen is to be placed under the roof, which we admit is a good situation for it, then gardens on the roof would hardly be agreeable as a pleasure-resort, charged as the at mosphere would be with the redolence of thekitcken. The roof-garden In this case would be a prime place for early green cucumbers. By niacins the! en and offices at the ton of the louse. t!h e doctor is enabled to erect his Lweiillngs L . f on arches of brickwork. channels of ingress for tresh air. ,1 - I d of egress for all that la to t rid f." In the way of. travel rtation, a railway beneath tnd trans acll main street is to be constructed for eavy Commodities, but no tramways re-to cut up or obstruct the roadways. aUways beneath, cabs and omnibuses bote are to sufflctf-t- Tnese are- only a few of the reforms indf changps Hygeia is to show the world. Naturally the dram shop is to be bolished, j and even tobacco comes under 5an Hygeia is pre-eminently thei jity ofj health, of course, each one at his. pleasure can to the doctor's ideal add art-galleries, concert-rooms,' opera hou jes, lecture-rooms, libraries, public parks, handsome shops, gay equipages; and as health would obviously fill j the itr ts with, the blooming faces of happy men and women, the picjture, it will be keert, i3 a fascinating one and yet, fascinating as it is, there Is noth ing tn it which is not entirely practica ble;! ppieton's Journal, ; Rapid Writers. f -A he biographies of authors furnish -i ariy Interesting facts concerning the ime oj;cupiea in tne preparation of heir;; Works rors. from the number of retired by some of the ancients We judge that they wrote very rapidly. ivy wrote One hundred and forty-two OOlCS. Cicero wrote thren nr fnnr im. ortjant works in a single year. Byron. We; ire told wrote the "Corsair" in ten Eayi; Fenelon "Telemaque" in three lonths; Walter Scott wrote a book or far hich he was Daid one thousand ouhdsj Ik) two days. Rab and his Frhjnds," by Dr. John Brown, was mttenL ltj Is said, in a single sitting. Deah Shipley said to Heber, "Suppose oui write a hvmn for the serving tn. ork-owj morning." The nymn. "From reenland'a Icy Mountains;" was writ- printed, and used in the tnis seryice of the following day. in fourteen years, wrote and bubllshpd nearly sixty volumes. Chal- Lhat depends on how long you want it. ! If your sermon Is to be half an pour lopgj it will take you three days; li it is ed De Eiiree quarters oi an hour, It will take two, or perhaps one, but if you are going to preach an hour, then not much occasion to think a there is; great deal! about it. It may be done in an hour." jWhen Robert Hall was con sulted on the same subject he grave sub stantially the same answer. Both these great men believed that the longer the time of composition the less of value the production possessed. But Dr. Johnson, who prepared forty-eight i i-ii - - 'printed! octavo pages at a single sitting, wnen ne neaxu mat it eook uiair a ween to cpmpose a sermon ,. remarked, "Then, sir it is for the jwant of the habit of con posing quickly, which I am insist ing xme should acquire. I would say to & young j divine: 'Here is your text; let! us see! how soon you can make a iPheri I'd say, 'let us see how sermon!. much better you can jn ake it.' Thus I should see i both his powers and judg- ment.'r Path of Safet y. me clear-headed fellow savs, that there Is but one road to happiness and prosperity! for either individuals or a ili.- nation J and that is faithful persistence Is the legitimate paths of business. The riches that come in an hour do more harm thangood. Hence we call upon all Lrood neoDle to unite in an effort to stay the tide of wild excess. Let a man bej frowned upon in society when he is living beyond his means. Let all noble and trie I women express their disgust at of he extravagant and indecent display the followers of fashion." And so shall tpe iiation.be saved from themill stone that has dragged other republics to destruction ; or shall our young men find a Wger and a nobler devotion tnan that ofimoney, and modesty and dignity shall not wholly desert American wo manhood.!! j Disappointment and Success. i ; j I ' ' hpn nnor Edward Keen was acting In! parja'sj to country bumpkins, barely finding bread for his wife and child, he was just as great a genius as when he was ; crowding Drury Lane. , When Broughom presided in the' House of Lords j he was not a bit better or greater than when he had hung about in the Parliament House at Edinburgh, a briefless and suspected junior barrister. Add when George Stephenson died, he was tlh'i (same man, maintaining the same principle, as when men of science and of law regarded as a mischievous ldikatic the individual who declared that some; day the railroad would be the Kibe's highway and mail coache3 would be drawn by steam. lust In proportion that a man can be counselled of his blunders, ju3t so there is, hope for him. I 1 9 1 I a4 or kitch i.
The Albemarle Enquirer (Murfreesboro, N.C.)
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May 10, 1877, edition 1
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