Newspapers / The Albemarle Enquirer (Murfreesboro, … / April 18, 1878, edition 1 / Page 1
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The Miirlreesooro Enq nirerc E. L. 0. WABD, Editor tad Proprietor. The Organ of the Roanoke and Albemarle Sections. TEBHSi $L50 Per Year, in Adroca. I : I. 2l MURFREESB0R0, N. 'OV THURSDAY. APRIL 18, 1878. VOL. III. NO. 25 '1 I .i .- J. 1 i. .1 ' i I 5 S UDCORIPTIONj itar astaxcx.) . One Tear IXJJt ...J 4 M six Months... LAO Single copies, ttre cents e&cn fWAny person sendingr a club of fire sub scribers, accompanied tij the cashj wUl recelre one copy tree for one jear. i ADVERTISING RAlTES: pack, ii-w.ia w.ii m.i ia I s ql,' I m. I VI- l Inch ft 00 $160 4 00 . 4 00 800 10 00 SO 00 SO 00 40 00 $ 6 00 $7 00 SIS 00 18 00 S4 00 30 00 SO 00 TO 00 125 00 s Incites S 00 too 400 0 00 10 00 15 00 8 00 400 COO too! 18 00 20 00 SO 00 800 IS 00 IT 00 SO 00 85 00 45 00 TO 00! S Inches 400 BOO 800 t4 00 20 00 IS DO 14 00 25 00 85 00 60 00, Inches V CoL.. X OoL.. 1 OOl... 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VW The MURFREKSBORO ENQTlIRER Is the official organ of Hertford and Northampton counties, and has a larger circulation In Bertie, Northampton, Hertford and Gates counties than any paper published, it also circulated in thirty. rjhrr anmii,. and as an ADVERTISING MEDIUM is second to no paper In Eafctprn Caro lina, . XA cross mark on your paper Indicates that your subscription ihas ujl. exp.red, or Is due. , We demand prompt pay ments, as we need what Is due us to enable us to carry on our business more successfully. Promises are worthless unless fulfllleai A sub scription Is a small amount to a subscriber, but putjtogether. they are considerable) Sto us. So please remit. . M JOB PRINTING of all kinds done in the best styles, and at fig ures to suit the times. STATIONERY, CARDS, ENVELOPES, BILL HEADS, LETTER HEADS. furnished at the shortest notice Address au orders to the ENQUIRER, ! Murfreesbora, N. a in Professional Cards. C. BOWEK, ATTORN JEY-AT-LA W, Jackson, N. C. Practices in Northampton and adjoining coun ties. Prompt attention to collection W ail parts oi tne state. J Im C. WAItl, ATTORN EY-AT-L AW, MurfreesborOi N. C. ! i i Practices In Hertford and adjoining icpuntles. and in the supreme and Federal courts- Promnt attenuon to couecuons. e J J. YEATE8, ATTORNSY-AT-LAW, Murfxeesboro, It N. C. Practices in the Superior, Supreme and Fed erai courts. D. A. BARN Est, ATTORN EY-AT-L AW, Mu'tesboifoj N,G. Practices in Hertford and adjoining counties and In the Supreme and Federal courts. prompt attention to collection. T. H. JERNIGAX, ATTORN EY-AT-LAW, Harrells villi N.a Collections made in any part of the State. 1 -yonsr w. hoobe, ATTO RNE Y-AT-LA W, Pitch Landing. N. C. mi Practices in the Sunerior. Supreme, ianid Fed eral Courts. Prompt attention to Collections. D. WINDOBXE, ATTORN EY-AT-LAW, i WlntonN. C. Practices in Hertford and adjoining icbuntles. couecuons made in any part of North Caro lina. J-It. C. P. CAnPBETLL, 0 H Z H H h 5 Wrh oooccixfl3 M H MURFREE3B0R0 N.a v- - v THE VESPER BELL. Ring on ring on, sweet vesper bell, From out your lofty tower; Your silvery accents seem to tell How sacred is the hour. Ring, for the day ia almost done; And now, while heaven's blessings fall, So gently, softly, over all. As if in answer to your call Sweet vesper bell, ring on ! How welccmo were the tones, sweet bell. One week ago to-day I Since then how many sad farewell Fond lips have learned to s&y ! How many a soul to heaven has gone To win the fadeless diadem I Sad hearts are left; oh, now for them In tones of sweetest requiem, RiDg, Vesper belL ling on! And when again, sweet vesper bell, The day of rest shall come; Who knoweth if he still wiljrdwell Here, in an earthly hbme? How many a task will then n done! Oh, may God keep us in his care; May He, Himself, our sonl prep re! Sweet bell, yon warn us to beware, Ring on ! ring on ! ring on The Silver Is ining. "Every cloud has its silver lining,"! but it seemed to Helen Livingstone that there could be none to her sorrow-cloud, it was so dark and heavy. And yet her home was a most luxu rious mansionj she had everything money could buy, she was yet young, and very beautiful. But there is one sorrow riches cannot avert death. Two years ago her husband,-proud, noble hearted Edward Livingston, died. That almost crushed her, but she bore up for the sake of his son her bright-eyed, r- . And now Eddie was gone.. Ana since the day they laid him beside his father, all her energy was gone. All her hoDes and interests in life left her, and all day long she lay upon the sofa or sat in a deep lounging chair in her darkened chamber, scarcely eating food enough to sustain life, refusing to see any friends except her own family, and resisting all entreaties to go out lor a breath of air. And here her sister, Mrs. Maxwell, found her, as she came one bright morning, and bringing a breath of Heaven's fresh lovelinessinto the close, perfumed and heated chamber. "Come, Helen, do come outi for a lit tle ride," she entreated. "I've brought my own carriage and ponies, and I'll drive you myself. It is such a lovely morning! Please, Helen !" j But Helen only turned wearily on her sofa. "No, no, Sue ! How can you I ask me?" "It will do you good, Helen." pleaded Sue. "I don't want to be done good. I only want to be let alone. I never want to leave this room until I'm car ried out as poor little Eddie was," moaned Helen. s "And that won't be long, I'm think ing, if you are allowed to go on in this fashion." muttered Sue, under her breath, while she said aloud, using a last argument, "Please come, Helen. We'll drive out to Laurel Hill and take some flowers to Edward and Eddie." But. still the mourner only sighed, "No, . Sue, nol" I send flowers out every day. But I can't go myself; don't tease me, Sue." Poor Sue stood still, her bright eyes full of tears, looking at her sister for a little while. Then she turned abruptly and left the room without another word. And she drove her pretty ponies straight to the house of a dear old Qua ker friend in two senses into whose presence she carried her petition. "Aunt Rachel, do pleasej go and see Helen !" she begged. I can't do any thing with her none of us can, and if you can't I don't know what will be come of her !" ; ; "Thee knows I will do what I can," softly returned Rachel Dalrymple. "Sit thee down here and tell me all about Helen." And having heard, Aunt Rachel donned her dove-colored plumage, and went in; Sue's carriage to the mourn er's home. "The servants will not want to ad mit you but don't be denied," said Sue as Aunt Rachel got out. The dear old lady nodded, and when the door was opened she walked in at once. ' j "I have come to see Helen Living stone," she said. "Mrs. Livingstone does not see visi tors," exclaimed the waiter. "She will see me. I will not trouble thee to go with me," she said, as she continued straight up to Helen's dark ened chamber. i . I Entering with a soft tap, she crossed the room and took Helen's thin, white hand. ' - i . i "I have1 come to see thee, Helen," she said,! softly. "But I cannot say I do see thee thy chamber is too dark, dear." s- ; ; " She walked at once to the window, and drew aside the heavj' curtains, let ting in a flood of golden sunlight. "On, the light," moaned Helen, turn ing away her head, i i; 'We cannot live without the light, "toy dear," said Aunt Rachel, returning to a seat close beside Helen.1, "Now Helen,"1 she said, gently, "I am older than thee, and I've been through the deep waters of tribulation . Tell me all thy troubles, and I will help thee if I can. The gentle words and tones went to Helen's heart, and she burst into a tor? rent of such tears as she had not shed before since her bereavement. Two or three hours Aunt Rachel staid, and continued her tender minis trations, and when she left she had wpn from Helen a promise that she would uo longer nurse her sorrow in selfish loneliness, but go about in the world and endeavor to do the duties still left to her. "If thee tries to do right, thee'll find there is some happiness left yet," said gentle Aunt Rachel. And though Helen did not quite believe that she could ever be happy, she knew her wealth afforded her large means of do ing good, and for that she would try to live. f A few months later the winter snow had covered Eddie and his father with a robe of spotless white, and it was near the happy Christmas-tide. More than one humble home in the great city had been brightened by Hel en's generous Christmas gifts, and she began to take some pleasure in these pleasant duties. The day before Christmas she had word of an aged and bedridden relative across the river, on the Jersey side, and she at once went over to see her. As she stepped upon the ferry boat to return, she found it very crowded and with difficulty got a seat next to a plain, neat countrywoman who had with her a little fellow of five or six years, and Helen's hear thrilled as she looked at the little face with its bright blue eyes and golden hair, Tor it bore quite a resemblance to the dear face of her lost Eddie. She could not help speaking to the 'child, and trying to win it to her, and presently she had him upon her knee. "What is your little boy's name?" she said, addressing the woman. "Eddie Hamilton," said the stranger, with a sigh, and Helen's heart thrilled again at the familiar name. "But he's not my child, he's an or phan," continued the woman. "Ah !" commented Helen, interested at once. "No ma'am, he's not mine. His mother was a widow, and came to Brookvilie, where I live, a year ago next March. She was very poor, and she had a little house right next to us, and tried to make her living with her needle. But she made her death, ma'am, that's what she made and we couldn't bear to see the little chap suffer, and him not a friend in the world, as we knowed of, so we took him, me and my John, and we've kept him ever since." "Do you still intend to, keep him?" asked Helen. j "We can't ma'am. We're poor, bard-working folks, and we've got five children of our own. John had a bad fall last week he can ge about the house, but the doctors say he won't be able to work a lick this winter. It don't stand to reason that we could keep an extra one, and be just to the rest, does it, ma'am?" f "No, indeed," returned Helen, po litely, i ' i "Thats what's taking me to the city to-day," returned the woman. "We hated to do it, me and John did, awful bad, but we didn't see no other way to do, so I'm a taking him to the Orphan Asylum. Do you think they'll be good to him, ma'am?" j A thought which had struggled in Helen's heart for the last few minutes, found expression now. "I don't know," shesaid, eagerly, "but I do know some one who would 1 You say you are poor I am rich, andl am widowed and childless. I have lately lost my husband and my little Eddie, and I am alone and lonely. Give me your little Eddie, and I will love him and be good to him, and bring him up as my own child 1" "Are you in earnest, ma'am?" asked the countrywoman. "Indeed I am I He looks like my lost Eddie that is what first made me no tice him and it seems to me as if Heav en had sent him to me. He is my Christmas present. Oh, do let me have him!" ! "I can't say no, ma'am. I am sure he will have a happy home with you," replied the woman. i "Go with me and see!" cried Helen. "Your John would approve, I am sure. Please tell me your name." "Reynolds is my name." "Mine is Livingstone Now, Mrs. Reynolds you shall go home with me. It Is not near the distance it Is out to the Orphan Asylum, and you shall see what I will do for little Eddie. Oh, I am. so. happy to have him!'' And as Helen hugged the child to her silken bosom, she did, indeed, feel that he was, in some measure, her lost Eddie re stored. - . ' j So when Mrs. Livingstone's elegant carriage met her on the city side of the ferry, she took Mrs. Reynolds and little Eddie to her handsome homej And over a dainty dinner, .which Helen or dered, they made all arrangements and plans; for little Eddie's transfer to his new home. I 1 -r Fof Helen proposed to adopt and edu cate him as her own son, withher own name, taking pride in the thought that, after all, an Edward Livingstone might bear the name, and wear the wealth i i and honors of the family. When Mrs. Reynolds returned home, Helen sent her to the ferry in her car riage again to save her the long; walk. "Come to see Eddie whenever you like," she -. said, as they parted, for Helen had no false pride about her she was too true a lady for that "and I will bring him to see you. I don't want him to forget hi3 kind benefactors. And here, slipping a tiny roll into JMrs. Reynold's hands, "is a little Christmas present for John and the children." And when Mrs. Reynolds looked at the "little Christmas present," she found it was a crisp, new hundred-dol lar bill. And so that Christmas eve a golden curly head rested on the empty crib pillow, in Helen Livingstone's room. And the next morning two little stuffed stockings hungi over the table loaded with Christmas toys. While Helen herself was so bright and happy that, when sister Sue and Aunt ;Rachel came into seethe little stranger, of whose arrival Helen had sent, them word, they stood astonished at the transformation. ! "Thee sees, Helen," said Aunt Rachel, "that I was not wrong when I told thee if thee tried to do right thee would be sure to be happy. A Turkish Barber. Foremost among the customers is an old gentleman who is sadly tormented with rheumatism ; he is very particular that not one item in the etiquette of Turkish shaving operations be omitted, the barber is aware of this, and prizes him as a regular customer that may be counted upon for at least ten paras (about half a cent) a day. After a long string of compliments have been exchanged, and the fineness of the weather adverted to, the old man seats himself ceremoniously in the bar ber's state chair. Thenj he is envelop ed from his neck to his heels in a huge apron that ties behind, j pinioning his arms to his side. In this defenseless condition he immediately becomes the victim Of half a dozen flies, which tickle his nose and flap against his eyes till he is reduced to the necessity of calling the barber to his assistance. On hearing the summons, that wor thy, who has been preparing a huge basin of hot suds and sharpening his uncouth razors, rushes to the rescue, and in about half a minute afterward we have lost sight of the old victim, whose whole fae a id head, and every visible portion of the neck, presents one extensive field o'f soap-bubbles, froth and hof vapors. Now the barber may be seen scrubbing away, with a huge hair bag on either hand; then he darts to one side andj'etches a huge basinfiil of very hot ater ; arid the next instant the victim's head, soap-suds and all, are forcibly immersed in this. In a few seconds it emerges red j and inflamed, with the eyes starting ! nearly out of their sockets, the victim meanwhile gasping for breath. Barely has he had time to implore a few moment's respite before another basin is produced, and the head again disappears beneath its depths. This time the water is almost to freezing, and the whole frame quivers again, as though quite electrified by the sudden ShOCk. I ' j On being withdrawn ; a death-like pallor has taken the place of the rubi cund complexion so lately exposed to yiew. Boon, however, the friction of a dry towel restores the circulation, suc ceeded ity the application of lukewarm soap and water ; after which the razor almost imperceptibly, certainly unfelt by the Customer, passes from the crown of the head and rounds the promontory of the chin with marvellous speed, leaving only a small tuft on the crown and the much prized Oriental mustache. Turks who wear beards, seldom, we may observe, resort to a barber's-shop, as only their heads require to be man ipulated, and to dress these is a depart ment in the barber's art which is gen erally left to young practitioners. The ordeal justdescribed having been passed through, the napkin is removed, and the customer is at liberty to rinse his hahds and face, j v ! Several miles of street railways hiivp. list hApn nnened in Naples, and nth cm am to be constructed imme diately. , Texas Camels. ' j , There is a camel ranch in Bastrop county, Texas, which has been in exj istence some twenty years, and fur nished many menageries with these un gainly beasts for exhibition. The Hemp stead Messenger reports another ship, ment of a car load of ten camels from Elgin, a railroad station near to Janesville, Wisconsin, where they are to be added to the attractions of a traveling menagerie.! The JItssenger briefly repeats the history of camel breeding in Texas. ? ;j( These camels are the progency of the herd brought into Texas about twenty years ago, with the expectation that they would be used for transportation: on the staked plains and other desert; regions, about the time of the Mormons rebellion. They were landed at Gal-, veston, but the chances of employing them profitably for army purposes failed, and they were sold. They; proved somewhat like the elephant won in the raffle to the first purchasers, but! finally fell into the hands of M. D. Mather, of Elgin, who now owns the; whole herd, about forty in number. Every year sales are made of the in crease, which is usually about ten, to the various showmen of the country. The price they bring is from $250 to $500 each at from two to five years of age. Mr. Lanfear says : 1 They are no more trouble to raise than horses or cattle. The colts for the first three or four days are rather tender and require close attention, but after that they take their chances with the iherd. They feed on cactus and brush, eschewing all grasses that cattle andlhorses eat, if the favorite cactus can be had. The females, with proper care, give a colt every year, and the price at which they are sold, the ease with which they are raised, their ex treme docility, and the adaptability of our climate to their nature would seem to indicate that camel raising is a profit able business in Texas. Mr. Lanfear says there is one camel in the herd that has traveled 150 miles between sun and sun,' ana mat most any wen oroKe camel is good for more than one hun dred miles in a day. 1 "Washing-ton's letters. i -1 t Chiroscraphically speaking, General Washington wrote an admirable hand. Such peculiarities as exist 'in the, shap ing of Washington's letters are but few. Perhaps the most marked is in the for mation of the letter n, which, as writ ten in later life, resembles somewhat an r. The o's and e's show some slight in terchange of forms. Thus "Harriet" looks like "Haraiot," and "conjecture" like "ceniecture." Though the letters are apparently spread, and words seem to occupy a certain space, when an at tempt is made to transcribe any of . his manuscript the copyist is surprised to find how uniform the characters are, and how many words are found to the pageJ Abbreviations are few, and are onlv used at the end of a line, when roomiis wantinsr. Words are not often divided into syllables in order to carry them I over to the next line. Ihe old stvle of forming a long in the middle of a word is retained, the moderns being used at the conclusion. Leading sub stantives occasionally begin with capi- als. Washington used false lines in his letterUvriting, as the spaces are always mathematically accurate, and the regis ter on both sides of the sheet perfect. In such rough drafts of Washington's letters as are before us, the illustrious writer seems to have taken the greatest pains to find the exact word wanted. As has been frequently stated, he was not -what is calle'd "a ready writer." Your ready writer, like your voluble speaker, has mostty a slipshod style, slights his work, ami is satisfied with but a half meaning. A very clear, straightforward style belongs to Wash ington. What he writes is to the point, and hits squarely and truly, and with out unnecessary verbiage. When he wants to, he sends the arrow-head home, without useless feathering to the shaft. If he labored at times to get the exact word to suit him, his vocabulary was rarely at fault. It seems quite evident that he never wrote an Important let ter without having flrstimade a rough copy. Even letters on) minor topics show this same patient care. Sometimes three or four drafts were made, dili gently worked up, full of interlinea tions and changes, before the perfect copy was achieved. If the Secretaries of distinguished statesmen of to-day were to disclose the secrets of official cabinets, it might be discovered that this elaboration of documents is consid ered quite a necessity. Polissez toujour, which literary dictum the greatest of Divines inculcated, was very much In vogue a hundred years ago. The letters of statesmen of former times, aitnougn not thrown broadcast as they are to-day by the press, were certainly scrutinized bv a certain class, whose critical acu men was quite on a par with the high est culture of to-day. Those wonder ful papers due to English prime mlnis- Isters of the last century had educated ,arj appreciative set of readers in both the Newand the Old World. Though th 5 schoolmaster was not as ubiquitous in colonial times as he is to-day, politi cal enemies were ever keen to find a -til' i i solecism or an anachronlsmin order to rxiagnifyjthem and gibbet the perpetra- t'ofj" Something has been written be fore this in regard to General Washing tan's crammar. ' if it is not always ab solutely correct, if even occasionally an error In spelling occurs, such mistakes are very uncommon, and are evidently of k purely accidental character. a For a; public man, Washington's correspon dence was immense. Occasionally the moist untiring of men,' who never neg- ected a dirty, was overtasked. The very best! of us slip up at times, i Men Whb search for motes in the sunbeam, Ukng Ll i J notmnjr from its light, have rare y an Y H hing left for their pains. ygienlc Ues of Trees. lire JTrees have been found to be preserva tives against cholera in India. Dr. Bry- den, President of the Statistical OIHce i vaicuiui, says ; xne roau 10 oain- alnoor runs for sixty miles through he forest, which around Petorah and r J.. i ti. i. i encKuuss is veryuense. n m aremarK abje fact, ibut it is a(. fact nevertheless, thai t on this route, traversed daily by hundreds of travelers, vehicles and baggage trains, the cholera rarely ap- irasre trains, the i , ; ii . ' pears ini this extent of sixty miles, and whqri it: does It is in a mild form. But e road from Arang westward to tfliieholce Bungalow, which runs for apout.ninety nines inrougn a Darren, tfceiess plkin, the cholera is found i ! evens vear n its most severe form, the ing lying by the wayside, of vehicles half of whose deacf and dy and trains nquctors 1 i L i are dead. During the wide- spreaa epiuemic oi cnoiera, aiso, in ai- U 1 U 1 i i a i laliabad inj 1859, those parts of the gar rison SvhoseL barracks had the advan tage of having trees near them enjoyed an v inaispu ble exemption, ana pr sely. In p oportion to - the thickness a nearne s or tne sneiter. Trees in reat? cities cool the air. A great ueai of heat is neutralized by from the leaves, another he decomposition of car Tho temperature of trees and even in the tops of evaporation portion by acid. in a forest, them, is always lower than the air4 in thle: forest, besides this, shade in the open lair always causes a certain uraugnt whjcii acts as a kind of fan. Any one r raikjrig indppre38ive heat, when the irjseems sti l as (leatn, must nave no- tided that a refreshing breeze arises as eon same as; a i t ,'. cloud casts a shade. The thing may have been observed in summer in walking through a street wi th close rows of houses, when the airUs still, and one side is sunny and the other is in the shade. On the sun- side there is not a breath of air, ilefon the other there may be a light So ar as the shade extends air is copier than in the sun ; layers ux joi une gravity; ; ktiire is t of unequal warmth are of differ- nd this difference of tem- e cause of the motion in air. i 'he shade of a single tree, refore, cools hot only by intercept- the sunls rays, but also by the effect entle fanning. Houses exposed to .ifuill glare of the sun's rays for a part he day) are much hotter internally n i those shaded oy trees, anu less agreeable for summer residence. : Colorado Undertakers. . n -JJ i rrr An iAiDanyi man, wnue sojourning in Coibnldo for his health, had his obitu arvilwritten up by mistake In the home papers. jWhoreupon he wrote back cor recting the icr: -or and plaintively describ ing hii jexper ence in that lively coun try! ni said ' 'There are three under takers in town, and as soon as they saw the nctiee th ;y all waited upon me and were eitremc ly indignant to find me alive. One of them was very boister ous In his indignation, and insisted that ijwas uriflink with the flncr and more saci'Odlfeeling s of his profession, and had! particularly outraged his feelings, he lkihg thej father. of a large family, andhe absolutely declined to leave the house Without an order for his. kind of ficel, to be us id on a future occasion. His terms arc half cash. One of my frie jndi,! of: particularly sensitive, I ftt say jealous, nature, sent a copy notice to a paper published in of the ? . my - native town, asking for an obituary ' pitching into the editor for not and hav thg published one before and accus ing him of a want of enterprise. 1 wJasajy nbtning of a disgraceful fight between the superintendents of the two rival cemeteries on my i I ! account, and or the powers I had to pay lor oecause thet; would not keep. : UiPehnsvlvania Colleee, at Gettys burg, Pa., hai recently received a be- quest or fau,uyu irom me esmuo w Adajltne Sagek l-Jone hundred and' sixty-nine more drirlklng fountains are to be put up in different parti of Paris. UkenL Joseph E. Johnson is doing a larpie insurance business in the South, T PA.tmaatirJAner&l KeT ta LflL jBUU UI 1 - vOfc"J is 4 cadet at the Naval Acauemy m Annapolis, Mu.
The Albemarle Enquirer (Murfreesboro, N.C.)
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April 18, 1878, edition 1
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