Newspapers / North Carolina Gazette [1873-1880] … / July 9, 1874, edition 1 / Page 1
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Published by J. H. & G. G. Myrover, Corner Anderson and Old Streets, Fayei VOL 1 i u. & a. H mykover, vn"5o ?3 iX O X" 3 . rv.'3N' OF .s' L'nXCRlPTIOX cin a-ivanre) ...J 5:1 ... 1 -2". 7." r j ii nt lixnw! a.iilreas) with an extra copy i 22 50 - " ' - 4(100 '" - " " " 75 00 .-miiini fit' :i n:ie i liroiDn. value ?-25- .00 00 :-iit t "in- ;'ldt"i-ss) w it li an extra f.opy " vmium t" a line r!ivc:ni, value fiu 150 00 . : ' 1 ni:)i)aroil) ;!;' insertion' ; '. " . two - J ' fine liuiijth '' throe r' i,l 00 1 50 2 50 " 00 ! do !." 00 tVI IVC " tn-tise:;i;-nts rliurireil in iiriiti.!i t. i'u.-SNiei-i;il N'otiee.v 25 per coat, more than Home Circle, i i.- h the Sac-red Kef age of Our Life." J)rif(L:l. wr,o-(a;n.u'Aa,rsKi. A Thrilling' Adventure. I.r i;i l i't iv ;i long d;iv since illCi), Yet. I r i ;:-:: i i u i- it .all. just ;as though it occurred l,i:f i'.-ii'ru:i'. . o I v .-,-;!i.-srn(';tcr, the fm-cmau o'f a largej r iicTiiiii-iit. ;inl as such possessed the ;.."; i- v t.'ddeneo uf my cut plover, who, ly v.iv, had Uvula .schoolmate, of mine. . one dav lie culled iae into his office to ! -ii ; l s-me rare coins'Thc had just pur i :i.-. l. "Hen,"' said lie, placing in my ! .!..! ) l.c-ivv vril:l niece, "is one which is 'r. . - - i -it-.uore thim all the rest. put together. -'.threat curiosity. 1 paid two , huu 1 (V.ilars i'.ir ir. and considered, it ..cheap hut.' I Could easily do'liblo my money iling it, airl fo you see, iiarvey, it is iv a r;ood investment.'' X, i;,i!il:t it is." said I, tiiouli ifsectiis y.vi lv TiTive lie idle." heaved an in volinita'V sia.li .J" I lfi'l i ecii: '.;v:i ;a tl.e lesU. tor two liau- 1 tlu'Jars wiiiji.l, iiave seemed a lortune M jiisr tl.en. ; i.e s(-veie illness of iny .wife and cue r.y eliildrc!i. V.id'ltte. death of another, s-"!'i'i:is iiii.ets on n;y parse, and it v;.:,r..l ihi. exeret.-e. of t i.e. utmost o-.!,- blxeep iiiyself free tYm tleit; nay. i I--: .(eS red to uaadraw inmi tltt t Hi -an!, v. ir.cii, nesiues . . .. . was alt I pos.-esse.t oi wornii r v.-'avs. Thndvinol' this, I hiid t!ie to;:: .I.e.vn with a hii;"li, ''and turned away to r -..i tf. ,:iy duties. ; ' The next i:!'r!iii;,' I - ,ts acani ummoii '.;;:, rhe 4'ilie.e. lut t!i;s.ti:ne I. mot1 with :: s''i-',! .Kiiefdlv irrci'tiuir e.s asaal. - L'iii-dover aliruptl v, c'liii. we' were, loakin.''. tit ha rf (lisa!)- ;!.'!. 1 have mad ; ti tltor.oitirii beareh, -!.;: ;: i ; . 1 1 -r Ke loe.ad. It has leen ear ; wa v hv some iae. ju Stlone saw or '-. new i:i tr, and !t- j-ae.sed. and laoiit'd t-inineantly ia- t :y faiv. ' 1 iiiiisui-d the sentenee. for i h."'. i!t:i ldood dve'15! 1!JV cheek '..illd f :;'".' as i spke. .. YW ai:;:ni. there. fore, that 1 took it 1!" 1 -Wlliai else ean I think The coiu was i ' Vi-: vaa alone saw it. I eannot recall ;. i'mx seen it due:1 it was in your hands. Vi::; are i-a' need of nmi.-y.: you have told :hat .vottrself. . I t was a ri'ent 'ter.tjit.--and I foririve yon because of our old ir.-isdshij), l'Uf I cannot retain you in my i .'iuv. Here is the salary- due you." V--yJj.;v well," s.ddt I. with i'orced' ca!m- ii "sa he it. Since you have so poor an '!' a i.u of me after years of faithful serv- Csh.-ill not "stoop to (Itd'end myself.""" i'iiea took the monev lie had laid un- !he d J.: k. ami went front his ltvesciiee a i.'-!i'-ii:.irh ondvcn heavt'd niati. !'. ;r i'.a- the tender love ni" my wife, 1 1 '"a.i not-that T would have buried my ' -!;. ws "in the rptve ox- a suicide. . SapparSeJ tiy-:tiiat love, however, and Ve-cioasness of lay innocence,' 1 took 'm '.-'i t'nura've, Jin1! set I'esoliitely to work 'iii.l a new einplivver. !'w'.v;rful is a breath of slander: turn i i' lt wav I utiirht. I ever found that the - o!'m v dismissal for the theft had V ded due. tind application for employ- '"..! 'jiui-fonnlv met with a refusal. "Viaie: went on: piece by piece our fnrni- ' aad . every snare article nf clothing, r.'Uii. its way 'to the pawnbroker's, until at -kiiith even-this potr resource failed us. i.uw cliiiilren crieu m :im el "l did not. sit down-in idle despair: I 'i-.r -.flbi-d fo do so: the life or death f ad laved on earth depended on. my : :-:a. us, and so, turning away from them u heavv heart, I once more set out on u i arv search for wxi'K. All in" vain! refusal after refusal met my 'iin-eaties for enjplvment, and 1 was turn '"ir, iiofiiewanl with'ti .listless step, when, P'-lCi- an iintneiise church, I was attract ''thv a-cfvoup of men at its base. I supplied by some strange impulse, I ''l'l'voached and minrled with them. A workman was standing near bv, look '''' up at the rreat steeple, which towered --'.! sume two hundred and fifty feet above 'lii. while a irentleman, evidently an ar-'.I'in-et, wits tiddressng him iu earnest lan e, and at the same time pointing to Aiird the robk-n cross at tlie summit of the " I tell you," ho exclaimed, as I drew-'"aiv-i'it must 'be done. The cross "must '"J taken down, or the first heavy gale 5'H send it into the street, and lives will hmt. Coward! is this the way you V out of ft job after engaging to do itF , didn't know the spire was so high up !ll ie. Do it yourself, if yon want it done.' i would if J were able, iui tno areu- ltect. "But sro if von wilb lot ?t Tv -r honor ,8 pledged to Lavo it done at any price, ami. I ean find a braver man than you to do it." The carpenter walked off witk a dogged, slouching step, and the gentleman was a- bout to move away also,. when I stepped forwrrd. "What is it you want done?"! asked. "I am a carpenter; perhaps I ean doit.' If e turned eagerly toward me. "1 will mnkelt worth your while. Take down that cross, raid I will pay you , hun dred dollars. You will have to ascend those ornamental, blocks, and I fell you candidly they are not to be relied on. Thev must be weak, and rotten, for they have been there for years." J looked up at the spire; it was square at the base and tapered to a sharp point, while along each angle were nailed small, gilded blocks of wood. . ''It's a dangerous' place to work," I said, "and there will be even more peril in de scending than ascending. Suppose I suc ceed in moving the cross, and then ' "If any accident happens to you, my brave fellow, the money shall be paid to your family. I promise you that. Give me your address.7' "Here it is," I said, '-'and as you value your soul keep your word with me. My wife and children are starving, or I would not attempt this work. If I die, they ean live on the hundred dollars for awhile, un til my sick wife recovers her strength.' "I'll make it a hundred and fifty," ex claimed the architect, ''and may God pro tect you. If I had tire skill necessary to ascend, that steeple, I would ask no man to risk his life" there. Hut come, and keep a steady hum.! and eye." I followed him into the church, then in to the spire, until we paused before a nar row window. This, was the point from which I must start on the perilous feat 1 had undertaken. Casting -a single glance at 'the people in the street below mere specs in the dis tance 1 reached out from , the window, and, grasping one of the ornamental blocks, swtmg mvseif out from the spire. ! For an instant- my courage. faltered, but J the remembrance of my starving family i came to my aid, and, with a silent prayer j for protection and success, I placed my i haii'.h on the nest' block above mv head, ami clambered up. . From block to block I went, steadily, an 1 'cautiously, trying each one ere I trust- ed my weight upon it. ! -Two-thirds of the spaC.? had been passed, j when suddenly the block ' that supported ! me moved? gave way. O, heavens! nev i er, though I should live to see a hundred years, shall I cease to shudder at the ree i olle-. Tion of that terrible moment.' Vet even in tlie, midst of my terrible ag ony, as I feit .myself slipping backward, I dht not lose my presence of mind. It .seemed to me that never before had my. senses been - so unnaturally acute as then, w hen a horrible death seemed inevita ble. Down, down I slipped, grasping at each i block as I passed it by, until at length my 1 fearful course was arrested; and then, while my head reeled with the sudden reaction, ! a irreat. shout came from the people below, j "Come down! come down!'' called the liH 1 I i till, lUVlH . V . . ... I. ... shall be yours for the risk you have run. Don't try it again. ' Come down!" 1 Jut. no; more than ever now I was de- j renamed to succeed.. 1 was not one to a'ive up. after having undertaken a diili ! ciilt task. - ' ' Coollv but cautiously I commenced- the ascent once more, first seeking in vain to reach across to-the next row of blocks, for I did not dare to trust mvseif again on that which had proved so treacherous. This I was compelled to do, however, un til the space between the angles became siiffieiently small-to allow me to swing a cross. Accomplishing my purpose at last, .went up more rapidly, carefully testing each block as. I proceeded. Ere long I reached the cross, and there I paused to rest, looking down from the dizzy height with a coolness that even as tonished me. A few strokes with a light hatchet that the architect had hung at my back, and piece by piece the rotten cross fell to the ground. Mv work was done, ami, as the last fraamen.t disappeared, I found a sad pleas ure in the thought that, should I never reach the ground alive my dear ones would have ample means to supply their wants until mv'w ife could find employment. .Steadily and cautiously I lowered my self from block to block,, and at length readied the spire window-, amidst the cheers of those "assembled in the street. In the steeple the architect placed a roll of bank notes in my hand. "You have well earned the money," he said. "It does me good to see a man with o nin.' i l.ervt! OUT oiess nit-; u . i i.i ......i ... :at is the matter with your hah? It was black before you made the ascent, now it is gray." V And so it was! That moment of intense agony, while slipping downward, had bTanched my "hair until- it appeared like that of an old man. The work of years had been done in an instant. Entering the bare, cheerless room, which was now all I called my home, I found a visitor awaiting me my Zate employer. '"'Iiarvey,' said he, extending' his hand, "I have done you a great wrong. It cost me a terrible pang to believe in your guilt, but circumstances were so strongly against you that I was forced to believe it. 1 have found the coin, Harvey; it slipped under the secret drawer in my desk. Can you forgive ve, dear old friendf ' My heart was too full to speak. I si lently pressed his hand. I "will undo the wrong I have done. All the world shall know ;how ; I accused you unjustly, not through jay words only, but through my actions, too. You must bo my partner, Harvey. If you refuse, I shall feel that you have not forgiven me." I did not refuse. Instead, I thankfully accepted the offer which my friend so gen erously made me; knowing that no surer method could have been devised to silence the tongue of slander, and free ray name from the unmerited reproach which of late had rested upon it. DESERVING LOYS. AYe likehoyswhotryto help themselves. Eyery one ought to be friendly to them. The boys of energy and ambition, who make a manly effort to do something for themselves, are the hope of the country. Let their anxious ears catch always words of encouragement and cheer, for such words, like favoring. breezes to the sails of a ship, help to bear them forward to the destination thev seek. It is not always as it should be in this respect. Many a heart has been broken many a vonm man of industry, animated by honorable motives, has been discour aged by sour 'words, the harsh and unjust remarks of some relative who should have acted the part of a friend. The unthink ing do' not consider the weight with which such remarks sometimes-fall upon a sensi tive spirit, and thev may bruise and break it. 1 f you cannot do anything' to aid and assist voting men, you ought to abstain irom throwing any obstacles in their way. But can you not do something to help them forward? 'You can at least say God speed to them, and you can say it 'feeling ly, from your heart. You little know of how much benefit to-boys and young men encouraging counsel, given fitly .and well timed, may be, and iu the great day of ac count, such words addressed to those in need of them, vou mav find reckoned am- ong your good deeds. . Then, heln the boys who try to help themselves. You can easily recall simple words of kindness addressed to yourself in manhood and youth, and you would like now to! kiss the lips that spoke them, though thet; may long since have been sealed with the silence of death, and cov ered bv the clods of the vallev.- Woiac for It. P.oys want to be rich, great or good, without working for it. They think that learned, wealthy and in fluential men are very fortunate that they have easily, slipped into their respective spheres. They -rarely ever think that, by hard work and dint of perseverance most of these men have risen to their present position's. Idlers never rise in the world. God does not reward laziness by ''riches and honor' God did not make man to be useless, and live at ease and reap without, sowing. When farmers can sow and reap on the' saute day, and not until then, can boys hope to become men of marked influ ence and acquisition without working for it. A splendid carriage roils along the street. loys look at it, and say to them selves: "He's a fortunate man; what "an easy time he has! Some day we may have a windfall, and not be obliged to work for a living.'" They scarcely dream that the owner of that vehicle was probably once a poor boy, who worked hard for many years, winning the confidence of all around him by his industry, integrity and noble bearing. Had he been as idle and loose as many boys are he woald not have owned the carriage, nor have been a, millionaire. Many years of earnest toil, struggling to overcome obstacles, practising the most rigid economy, and bravely holding out a gainst discouragements, is the secret os his success. Amhitiox. -That is the bravest am bition which is vigorous enough to over leap the little life here. The highest as pirations seek not fame. AVhatever we can do of good in this world, with our faculties or our affections, rises to God as humanity's going forth of praise. -Amid the million tongues ever joining to swell the music of that song are not those which sound loudest and -grandest here, but the tones which roll sw eetest and purest up to the, eternal throne, which mingle in the most perfect harmony, with the anthem of the angel choir! May not the most obscure life, be dignified by a lasting aspiration nnd be dedicated Wi'lh Co iiits. to a noble aim? A Mkcha5uc. A young man commen ced visiting h young lady, who seemed to be well pleased with him. One evening he had called when it was quite late, which led the young lady to enquire where' he had been. : 'I had to work to-night." "What, do you work for a living?' ' she en quired in astonishment. "Certainly," re plied the young man. "I am a mechan ic.'' "I dislike the name of mechanic," and she turned up her pretty nose. This was the last time that young man visited that young lady. lie is now a wealthy .man, and lias one of the nicest women in the country for a wife.. The lady who dis liked the name of a mechanic is now the w ife of a miserable fool a regular vagrant abrut grog shops, and the soft, verdant, miserable girl is obliged to take in wash ing to support herself ana children. You -dislike the name of mechanic, eh! yon whose brothers are but well dressed loaf ers. We pity any girl who is so soft . as to think less of a mechanic one of God's noblemen, the most dignified and honored personage of Heaven's creatures. Beware of disdaining the young -men who work for their living, for you may one day be a menial to one of them yourself. Far bet ter to discharge the well-fed pauper, with all his t rings, jewelry, brazenness and pomposity, and to take your affections to the callous-handed, industrious mechanic. Thousands lkave bitterly repented their fol ! wlm liavd turned their backs to -hon esty. A few years have taught tht li era a severe lesson. THURSDAY, JULY 9, 1S74. REMINISCENCES OF WIGFALL, A correspondent of the St. Louis Dis patch gives some interesting stories of the late Senator .Wigfall: "I read with some interest your article on the death of General Lewis T. Wigfall of Texas, a man who, to my mind, was one of the most remarkable characters the South ever produced; and I have thought some reminiscences of him strung together at random might not be unacceptable at this time, especially as his death has brought his name once more prominently before the public. In conversation he was ono of the most fascinating men it was ever mv fortune to be thrown in contact with not only a brilliant talker but a learned and profound talker as well. Possessed of a wonderful ly retentive memory, a great fund of anec dote, a style that was exceedingly p'ctn esque, and a gift in making metaphors for.it cannot be called bv any other name -that was inexhaustible, he could come as near proving black to be white in an hour's talk as it was said Lord McCauley could. Before an audience of people pro per he was irresistible. Once, after the war, in the mountains of Colorado, Gener al Wigfall happened to bo passing through some little mining town in the silver re gions I think it was in 1870. It was raining hard, and had been all day. The vehicle in which he had taken passage broke down a short distance from the place; and this necessitated a halt for the night. Iloughly clad, covered with mud, and wet to the skin, Wigfall struggled up to the nearest hotel in the settlement, and registered his name. While drying his soaked garments at the stove, a shout was raised outside, and the news came that a well known desperado called Texas Peter, had been caught with a sack of gold-dust in his possession that did not belong to him, and that the miners had formed themselves-into a court of justice to try him for his life. "Where-' is the man from?" Wigfall ask ed the landlord. "They say he is from Texas, but I don't know, lie has a bad nauiD here-abouts, and I expect it will go hard with him." Wigfall himself was from Texas, and perhaps some memory of the State, at the time, was busy at his heart, and earnestly at work upon his'sytnpathies. This son briquet of Texas Peter, in all' probability a borrowed one, arrested his attention at once, lie rose abruptly from his seat, and passed out among the miners, gathered to gether iu the rain to pass sentence upon a fellow mortals w ho, in their eyes, had com mit ted the ttiipardonable sin. The culprit had no friends. lie was a gaunt man, with a scar across his rigltf cheek, iron-gray hair, and a face that was strongly marked and sinister. His guilt was established bevond doubt, and with all due formality he was sentenced to death. The rope w as brought, and from purple hue the man's face turned ashen pale. . Wigfall leaned over near to him, and asked him gently if there was any one in Texas who would he sorry to hear that he had died like a dog. Yes, there was one, a wife whom he had once been happy with, but whom, for all that, he had .cruelly treated and abandoned. "AVill you go back ami support her if I save you?" Wigfall demanded. The man swore he would. Then in a twenty minutes' speech, as has been declared to the writer bv three truthful men who were present, Wigfall did with that rough, unshorn crowd just what he pleased. They cried, laughed, felt sorrow and rage and infinite pity by turns, and finally, with a great yell, relea sed the thief, and bade him go in peace while the spell was on them. Before he left the town tie drew up a code of laws for the mines, intended for their local self-government, refused the profits of a hundred claims if he would stay among them find keep the peace, and de clined to take, with much geutleness and many kind words, no end of presents as an homage to his eloquence and the interest he had shown in the welfare of the settle ment. The Romance of a Millionaire. The Paris papers announce the death of Baroness ALichaela do Pontalba, a native of New Orleans, and the late owner of princely estates in that city; the daughter of Don Andres Almenaster, the Spanish Intendant of Finance of the 'colony of Louisiana, who founded the cathedral in Xew Orleans, and several charitable and religious institutions, and who died, leav ing his daughter the wealthiest ladv then on this side of the Atlantic In those days, and, indeed, long after wards, the fair demoiselles of the colony finished their education in a convent, '..and made their debut in society and the fash ionable world at a very early age. And, indeed, manying at 'fourteen and fifteen years of age was no rare thing for them to do. As Mdlle. Almenaster was married iu 1812, at the'age of nineteen, to her cous in, the Baron do Pontalba, it was some time ere that date when site reigned a belle in the parlors of the old creole aris tocracy, and where she met the celebrated John McDonougb, the Xew Orleans mill ionaire. Of marvelous beauty, and an heiress, .the young merchant fell an easy victim to her charms, and his subsequent lonely life and asceticism were attributa ble to the early and crushing disappoint ment of his love. Young McDonougb, from the cultured society of Baltimore, obtained an easy en tree into the privileged circles of the South ern capital, where his gay and dashing habits aDd luxurious living soon made him a noted personage. It was not long, how ever, before, the bewildering Spanish bean ty led him captive. He proposed marri age, but the answer lie received was as de cisive as it was mortifying. He was not rich enough to marry the heiress of Andres Almenaster. In his bitter anger McDonougb. vowed he would live and work until ho was rich er than all the Almenasters andPontalbas put together. He kept his word. A bit ter recluse from the moment of his reject ion, the energies of his powerful mind and indomitable will were absorbed in money getting. He accumulated eight millions of dollars, and died in a lonely house op posite New Orleans, with only servants for attendants, a comparative stranger in the city where he had lived all his life, and of whose property he was so large an owner; In his death hour he talked incoherent ly of his early disappointment, and desired that a small painting on ivory, supposed to he a likeness of his early charmer, be buried yvith him. It was done, and so fa ded from the world his romance and his life. A CONGRESSIONAL ROMANCE. There is romance enough about the late marriage of the Hon. Omar I). Conger, of Michigan, and Mrs. Sibley, to fit out a half dozen younger couples. By the side of it the Grant-Sartoris atfair sinks into in significance. There was Conger who, twenty seven years ago, was a poor lad in Mian, Ohio, struggling with algebraic problems and cube roots in Huron Insti tute. But notwithstanding he grappled so bravely with these tough and tiresome studies, he had a susceptible heart; and so, when his eyes fell upon the beautiful Miss Humphreys, then a reigning belle-in that part of Ohio, 1m hauled down his colors at once, and surrendered unconditionally. The young lady was ' interested, and en couraged him. In a short time the- were engaged and happy. But dark clouds will come, and sometimes they get between tw;o hearts, and so obscure the vision that nei ther can discern the other. So it w as here. In those days the young ladies were given to a queer kind of' pastime called flirting, happily done away with in these better times, Aliss Humphreys was addicted to this kind of amusement, and she followed it faithfully, notwithstanding her engage ment. Air. Conger objected, a quarrel en sued, and the match was broken off. Af terwards it was renewed, but the young man protested once hi ore at the conduct of hs 'Jianccc, and they finally cried quits for good. In the full belief, no doubt, that his life was blasted, and that he had noth ing to hope for except tin early death, Air. Conger rushed out into f he wilderness w ith a surveying party, and for three years car ried the chain in the mineral regiors of Lake Superior. Then he wandered to Port Huron, and, astonished to find that he still lived, concluded to settle down to the practice of the law; he did so, and suc ceeded. Not long after he felt anew the touch of Cupid, and soon surrendered him self a second time to a new love, and was married. In the meantime. Aliss Humph reys had also found another oil whom to bestow her affections, and married Major Sibley., of the United States Army. Af ter this, the young people, who, until now, had watched each other's movements, lost sight of one another altogether. Air. Con ger rose in his practice, was elected Judge, Htate Senator, and finally, in 1SG8, w as e lected to Congress, where he has since re mained. A few years after his marriage his wife died, and he did not marry again, but devoted himself to his children. This, in brief, is Mr. Conger's history. Airs. Sibley had gone out upon the ocean of life in a different direction, and had be come an accomplished lady of society. Twelve years after her nmrrirge her hus band died. Childjcss and lonely, the widow- left for Europe, and after a lengthy stay upon the Continent returned a short time a-1 go, landing at New York, She .was pre paring to proceed to her old home in Ohio, when she look a strange fancy to visit Washington. She went, and for several days amused herself in rambles about the Capital. One day she was sitting listless ly in the House gallery, watching the rest less flow of political wisdom on the floor, when a member on the left of the Speak er arose and addressed the House. Through all the confusion, the clapping of nanus ana murmur ot hundreds or voices, the words of the speaker came clear and distinct to her. There was something in the tones strangely familiar, and they came as if reminding her of a dream long since forgotten. Then she gained a view of the speaker, and started as she recognized his features. After all these long years, there she w-as gazing upon the face and listening to the voice of him who had become as one dead to her. It was a strange experience, but it brought her no comfort. She had heard that Air. Conger was married years age, and to see him now again could bring little else than painful recollections. She would depart and make no sign. But this was not to be. Air Conger had heard that Airs Sibley was in Washington, and it was not long before he recognized her in the gallery. He disappeared from the floor, and while she was revolving the queer circumstances that brought them once more under the same roof, she felt a slight touch upon her arm, 'and, looking up, beheld him before her. Their hearty greetings over, each became embarrassed. Each tried to appear altogether oblivious of the past, and each most signally failed. To add a little poetry - ' - "'.- - We caimet kill the past: somehow -"-"- We cannot shut the door . That hangs between what we are cow - A ml what we were befot?. The rest shall not be kuwn, Except that with a weary tread We walk our ways alone. Airs Sibley rose to go - She would . be glad to see Mr. Conger at the Arlington, and also his wife and family. ; She suppo sed they were with him, of course. . Then came the explanation, and Mr.1 Conger promised to call, ou one condition. "Name it," said the lady. "That von, take. back what vou uttered twentv-seven years nrro.v DonV CSSit back," she faltered, and then ooted71 n out of the gallery, as General Sherman would say, to hide the happy tears that sprang to her eyes as she said it. And then Air. Conger went back to his seat with a wonderful flow of spirits, and looking as if his five and forty years were but five and twenty. The other day there was a quiet, happy wedding in AYashing ton, at which Airs. Sibley and Air. Conger played the principal characters, o ends the story, and it is a pretty good one, notwithstanding it is true. As Bou cicault would ay, "The night is passed; the darkness disappears; 'joy cometh in the morning VICTORIA IN A HUFF. The Quarrel About Precedence. A London letter says: "The Queen has gone off to Balmoral, leaving her imperial guest, the Emperor of Russia, in London. On the face of it this is a piece of gross rudeness that a less important personage than the. Czar might justly resent with an ger. The court party here excuse it by sauug that the health of the Queen 'has greatly suffered in consequence of the tin-' usual exertion she has made and the ,cxi citetnent to which she has been subjected; first by the arrival of her new daughter-in-law and then by the advent of the Czar; and that her doctors have ordered her oil' to Scotland in order that she may have immediate rest and quiet. The truth is, I believe, that Her Alajesty is suffering from one of her periodical attacks of what Air. Disraeli calls "mental disability," and. that it has been caused mainly bv the chagrin which she experienced .by being compell ed to yield to the Czar in the matter of the concession to his daughter of the rights of rank -w hich she claimed for her. I have been greatly amused to observe the zeal with which the English people take up the Queen's side in this little family quarrel, and insist that the Grand Duchess has been 'honored' by being introduced into 'our royal family,' and should be quite sat isfied at taking anv back seat that was a warded her, The Czar and his daughter did not see the matter in this light, and as he insisted on having his way, the Court Journal has been compelled to announce that hereafter the young lady shall be styled 'Her Royal and Imperial Highness the Grand Duchess of Russia,' and that 'she shall take precedence immediately af ter the Princess of Wales.' This conces sion has been gall and wormwood to the Queen and to her daughters, and the mor tification arising therefrom is the real cause of the present illness of Her Alajesty and of her ontimely flight to Scotland. "The Queen, with all her virtues, takes queer freaks now and then, and acts in a manner that gives rise to some unfavorable remarks. She has never been very fond of her youngest son,, Prince Leopold, and she has lately displayed a curious indiffer ence concerning him. The poor fellow is a student at Oxford, where he is said to be very much liked. For some weeks he has been dangerously ill so ill that at times his life was believed to be in danger. The Queen did not visit him, nor did she send for him to come to her. The young man saw nothing of tm fetes at Windsor and Loudon in honor of the Czar and his daughter, and now his mother has gone off to Scotland, leaving him in a condition of suffering and of danger. Still, Victoria is the "model and exemplar of all the do mestic virtues." Rising in the Would. It was to wards the middle of the last century that a little ragged boy, named Saunders, made his appearance at the door of an attorney's office in Clement's Inn, London. He was cast upon the world in absolute want; he knew nothing of parents; he had not a friend; and he knew of no roof beneath which he had a right to lay 'his head or obtain a crust to eat and a cover in return. The Mtornev found hi ra very bright and prompt, and employed him. The boy proved faithful and earnest in the discharge of such business as was given him to do, By-aad-by the boy, when he had been ad mitted to sleep in the office, expressed a desire to learn to write. The attorney rigged him a low desk in a far corner, and set him copies, also assisted him at times by personal instruction. The boy devel oped a bold; clear and beautiful hand; and by the time he was fifteen he had become a correct and rapid writer. He was now transferred to the inner office, and set at the work of writing im portant legal papers. This gave him an insight into, and a taste for legal lore. He studied -studied so hard, to such good purpose, that in time he came to afford his employer sound and valuable counsel in important matters. His diligence was un tiring, and his faithfulness unswerving, and his ambition unchecked. He worked his way up to the bar, and became one of the most feminent and effective practi tioners of his time. This man, whose entrance into the strug gle of life had been from so low and un promising a station, by the proper use of the fortunate qualities inherited, became, upon the death of Pemberton, Lord Chief Justice of England. The fashionable dance in London, it is said, is the Rnssian polonaise, a novelty introduced in honor of the Duchess of Ed inburgh. Lake Xeufchatel has been stocked with one hundred and fifty thousand young trout. Forty-five is the average weekly number of deaths in London streets. - Hood called the slamming of a door in a passion "a wooden oath." ;IIc who reforms himself does more than he who starts out to reform the world. Corresj j ' FOB THE GAZKTTi iteuiiniscences oi a oojourn ot Maw! ears in r . n m the Vilrious Kingdoms and Empires of Europe. NO. XXIV. ' ERRATA. In Xo. 20, the river on which the city of Hanorer is situated should be "Leine," in stead of "Seine," In No. 21, for "the city of Ba varia," read "a city of Bavaria." In No. 23 the "robes of state'' and the "cocked hat of Frederick the Great" should have been trimmed with "er mine," inetead of with "crimson;'-" and the "gold cross" spoken of in paragraph 1, line 38, should have been "two" feet long, instead, of "ten" feet. Messks. Editors.: The Royal Acad emy of Fine Arts in Berlin is a large and splendid Jjuilding, of the Doric order of architecture. .The Royal Opera House is perfectly magnificent, especially the interi or; it is of the Corinthian order; there is no other opera house like it, either in Europe or America; the throne in it is very fine -much finer than the one in the palace;' the upholstery is scarlet; tickets are always from 63 to $5, but what the price might be for fourth and fifth tiers I cannot sav; the throne is situated on the first tier, anil right in front of the: stage. -Although this opera house is by far the finest in Europe, I must say that I saw and heard the poor est opera hero .tliat I did anywhere in Eu rope. The Royal Theater is also very fine, exterior and interior; Tt is fluted Ion ic. The School of Design for Sculpture is very fine, and is fluted Doric. -One of the most magnificent and imposing building in all Europe is the Royal Museum; hero one will see the best anatomical collection that is to be seen in the world; the build ing is of gray granite, has 18 fluted Ionic columns, and in every respect is the very model of good taste. Aast numbers o'f specimens are in porcelain and wax.:. I would advise any gentleman (for ladies aro not admitted) going to Europe not to fail to see this collection. While there are such a vast number in wax and porcelain there are any number of natural specimens in liquids, and any number of skeletons of all sizes. Out of this rich collection what struck me more than anything else was m glass coffin some seven "feet long, which contained a man in wax six feet long, who had died of the leprosy. His case was so novel, so unlike anything I hall ever seen. From all I had ever read on the subject, I had been led to believe that it was a cuta neous affection of a dry, husky nature, per haps looking like a cancer in its earliest stage. But, on the contrary, he was cov ered, from the crown of his head to tho soles of his feet, with pustules not, tho small, opaque pustules of the small pox but all sizes, from that of a garden pea to that of a cherry; sometimes they Were an inch apart, wdiilc at other times they w ere in clusters, perfectly transparent, and look ing like the blister produced, from the flv blister. I was told that ho liad Men V sufferer for thirty years. All his imils had become like hornr I was so interested that I begged permission to make a drawing, and was very properly denied; for, as tho guide said, granted to one it would have to be to. all, till it would become a school of design. Hefaid that, as it was, he often caught persons drawing without permis sion. The Royal University is a fine building of the Corinthian order. At Ber lin there is a French church and a French theater, both of which are very fine build ings, and look exactly alike, standing in very conspicuous positions near the Palace. Berlin, with her 800,t)00 inhabitants, has only about forty-five churches, and there is not a fine looking one among them. . As I have said, there are across the Spree some forty bridges. The palace bridge is quite short, but very fine built of granite and rimmed with white marble; it has eight marble -pedestals, and on each pedes tal is a nude figure larger than.life, Fred erick bridge is also very fine, and adorned with statues. I In the squares there are bnt few statuds, bat they are of a very hio-h order; they, like the public buildings, are admirably conceived and located. Tho only drawback to . the statues on tho bridge arc, that the bridge being narrow, and the statues set too low, they do not show to advantage. If they were placed on such bridges as the London and Water-' loo bridges, London, they would show to a great advantage, as tjiey are very superior productions of art. As regards tho streets.of Berlin, they aro kept in good order no wandering 'min strels, organ grinders or beggars being al io wed." There would be plenty of beggars on the street if they were permitted to ap pear. But wlltat would be the uso of te ging, when they would get nothing, ex cept from strangers, and if anything can be gotten from strangers, the government wants it. In going to Potsdam, Sans Sou ci, and other places from the city, we saw any number of the most miserable looking crippled, blind and all kind of beware; but none were allowed to enter thecity gates. And outside of the catea -numler of organ grinders, some of whom have ground until the last tooth is almost ground off of their organs. As we intended to remain for a consid erable time iu Berlin, we concluded to take rooms, and have our meals brought to us from a restaurant. We soon found fine rooms, - tastefully furnished, at a mod erate price, and our meals brought us from a restaurant wer much cheaper than thev would have leert at a hotel, where we would have been Expected to pay a high price for wine, whether we drank it or not. I advise anyone going to Europe, when he arrives in a city, and intends to remain several months, to hire "furnished rooms in some fine hoinje-iJshionable street.. One TAnrve much morejirivaiely, be muchifiorc comfortable, and 'at half the price; j - A'otagktjr,
North Carolina Gazette [1873-1880] (Fayetteville, N.C.)
Standardized title groups preceding, succeeding, and alternate titles together.
July 9, 1874, edition 1
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