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VOL. I. NO. 3.
A Printer’s Protest.
Oh 1 whj don’t people form their a’s,
And finish off their b*s ?
Why do they make each crooked c’a,
And each confounded d’s ?
Why do they form such shocking e’s,
And f’s with ague fits ?.
Their g ; s and li’s are too much
For any printer’s wits.
What a human eye is without sight
Is an i without a dot,
•J’s are Buch carious, crooked things,
We recognized them not
K ought to stand for kusseduess,
But comes in well for kick.
l«’s and m’a are mischievous,
While n’s just raise Old Mick.
O’s are rarely closed at all,
And p’s are shaggy things,
<J’ s might as well be spider legs,
And r’s moeqnito wings.
» Some people make a passing 8,
Who never cross at; -
Others use the eels-same strokes
To form a u or v.
W’s get strangely mixed,
X’s seem on a spree ;
Y is a skeleton on wires ;
Zounds! how we swear at z.
A yet, just think what typos get
From drivers of the quill !
They call us such a careless set,
And ecribble on at will.
Well, they will scribble, and we must swear,
And vainly try to please,
Till they go back to school and learn
To make their a, b, c’e.
LADY RODNEY’S PLAY.
“I wish yon wouldn't Dorothy."
“You know very well.”
“Indeed Ido not.”
“Well, ii I must be more explicit, I
wish yon wonld not act with that Pon
aonby. The way he stares at yon, and
fixes yon with his eyes, is enongh to
make a man forget his manners.”
“My dear Cyril, yon can’t be serious.
I have never heard yon so unreasonable
“Unreasonable! My dear girl! Con
sidering we are to be married so soon,
and all that, I really thought yon
wonld not object to a little advice from
“Oi course not. If I like it, I shall
always follow it Yon know that”
“But surely, Dorothy, it can't be a
pleasure to go through rehearsals with
that lanky fellow?"
“Well, you see, I am bound to act
now. This ia the sixteenth, and the
theatricals come off on the nineteenth—
only three days; and how could Lady
liodney provide a substitute in that
time? 'And besides, I should like to."
“Oh, wonld yon? That, of conrse,
settles the question.”
“Why, Cyril,” exclaims Miss Bohun,
< ‘l do believe yon are jealous!”
“I am. It does not make a man par
ticularly cheerful to know that the
woman he lovea is to be the objeet of
another man’s adoration for even an
“But, my dear Cyril, it is only a
“But, my dear Dorothy, I see no
reason why it might not terminate m.a
Miss Bohnn langhs.
“Esen that,” she says, “wonld be
better than nothing. This place has
grown so dnll since the Stewarts left,
and those men at Coote Hall."
“Look here, Dorothy, throw it up,”
says Mr. Dianey, leaning over her chair,
and bending his head until his face is
very near to hers, “for my sake.”
“Well, if yon can bring me some
fever, I'll take it; bnt I don’t see where
yon’ll get it, as there’s nothing of the
sort in the parish, and I'm convinced
that nothing less coaid save me from
“Then yon are quite determined cot
to give it np?” Bays Disney, ooldly,
drawing himself to his full height.
“I never was determined In my life,”
aays Miss Bohnn, with some jost indig
nation. “I am remarkable for never
saying ‘no’ to anybody. Yon yourself
have frequently told me I had the
sweetest nature in the world, end it is
quite too late to alter Lady Bodney’s
“No doubt yonr are right as yon al
ways are. I’m sorir I can’t be present
on the nineteenth, but it is impoesible,
as I shall have business that will detain
me about that time.”
“Very pressing business?”
“Yes, very pressing business.”
“Ah! ’ says Miss Bohum.
» , * • • • •
When Dinsey has been absent two
days, his thoughts undergo e decided
To have left Dorothy in the manner
he had seems to him now to have been
not only an an manly, bnt a most un
CHARLOTTE, MECKLENBURG CO., N. C., JULY 8, 1882.
There is only one way ont of it. He
will write to her, and hnmbly apologize
for his conduct.
The night passes wearily enough,
and the morning brings him no relief.
He is still indesoribably miserable, and
sinks into the belief that there is no
balm in Gilead for his uneasy spirit.
The next day he grows even more
desperate, and finally decides that to
morrow, come wbat may, he will—
metaphorically speaking—throw him
self at her feet, and implore forgiveness.
How slowly the train seems to move,
and how intolerable seems the delay at
each station to Disney, as the next
morning he tiavels on his way to
Brompley. One half-hoar more, and
he is fulfilling the guard’s demands for
the shattered remains of his mutilated
ticket, and awakes to the fact that he
ha i actually arrived at his destination.
Hastily procuring his luggage, and
engaging the first car convenient, he
immediately proceeds to the Hall. Ar
riving there, he dismisses the man, and,
giving his luggage to the inestimable
Williams, he enters the honse.
How good it seems to him being back
again, and how small by this have
Dorothy's sins grown in his eyes. After
all, how could she help it? He is sure
she hated having to do it. And how
could she refnse Lady Bodney, after
promising to play her part? And, be
sides, how many women act in private
theatricals, and why shouldn’t Dorothy,
who is evidently fitted by nature for
that sort of sport? And when one comes
to think of it dispassionately, there are
few things so-so innocent as little
tableaux, and little drawing-room
pieces, and that!
In fact, when ttey are married, he
doesn’t see why they shouldn’t have
private theatricals once a month. That
green room at Eingsmore is jnst the
plaoe for a stage—footlights and drop
scenes, and so on.
He is getting positively enthusiastic
over the theatricals, which subject has
carried him as far as the drawing-room,
when it suddenly occurs to him that
Miss Bohnn is cot there, as the man
has led him to suppose.
No donbt she is in the conservatory,
which she so mnoh affects. He pauses.
He thinks he will give her a pleasant
surprise, and, cantionsly moving aside
the curtain that he may not too rndely
break in npon the reverie that is doubt
less filled with him, he gazes npon the
little perfnmed paradise beyond.
At first the light dazzles his eyes.
He draws his breath quickly, and then
—what is it he sees? In the distance
stands Dorothy—her features eloquent,
her eyes alight, her lips half parted, as
a smile, fond and tender, hovers ronnd
At her feet kneels Ponsonby—his
hands tightly clasped, his whole
attitude betraying devotion the most
Even as Disney watches them,
stricken to the heart by the cruel pic
ture on which hr had so unwittingly
intruded, a passionate outbreak of
words come from Ponsonby’s lips.
* “ Darling,” he says, “I appeal to yon
for the last time, and implore yon to
listen to me. Do not, I beseech yon,
let the adoration of another"—
(“That’s me,” Disney says, between
his oompressed lips)—“blind you to
the nndying love 1 offer I On yon are
oentred all my hopes of future happi
ness! Do not sentence me to life-long
despair, bnt say you will be mine I”
Disney waits with maddening impa
patienoe and beating heart for her
It comes very nervously from Doro
thy’s pretty lips.
Her head is bent modestly, and her
hands lie passively in Ponsonby’s.
" How can I answer you ? ” she says,
in distinot but wavering accents. “And
yet why should I cot unbnrden my
mind? Trnth is always best. My heart
has long been in yonr keeping, and, if
you wish it, it is yours.”
It is too much. Sick at heart, Disney
turns away, not oaring to listen to
words evidently not meant for him to
hear. The dreadful awakening has
comc-l All his dreams of bliss have
been shattered by this sudden and
and painfolly-unexpeoted blow, and
Dorothy—his love, whom he has be
lieved as true as tie angels—is
nothing more in his eyes now than a
practiced flirt and heartless woman of
the world 1
His first thought is to retnm to the
city, his next to remain. Has he not
heard somewhere “second thoughts arc
best ? ” Yes, he will remain, and see it
ont to the bitter end, and when this
loathsome play has come to an end he
will tell her what he thinks of her, and
how she has wilfnlly broken his heart
and ruined his life I
At dinner be is compelled to meet
her ; bnt, everybody being present, his
exceedingly cold greeting passes un
noticed by all except Dorothy herself.
She eannot mistake the change in his
whole demeanor. Where is the tender
pressure of his hand to which she has
been accustomed ? Why did he come
at all if he is still filled with bitter
thoughts? There is some faint com
fort in the remembrance that she did
not ask him to return.
But'what has become of the “ press
ing business ?» Why has he come back
in such hot haste?
He oarefnily avoids meeting her all
all the evening, and next morning at
breakfast is, if possible, more markedly
cold and distant toward her.
She is saddened and disheartened;
but pride comes to her resene. She
decides in herself that she will show
him how little she has taken to heart
his coldness and indifference.
Never before, perhaps, as during this
interminable day has Miss Bohun
appeared so gay, so bright, so fall of
life and spirits ; and yet in the solitude
of her ■ own room, while dressing for
this luckless play, she sheds many a
At nine o’clock the enrtain rises.
The guests settle themselves in their
seats, and prepare for anything.
Miss Bodney, arrayed in a very
Quixotic costume, fresh from Worth,
appears before the audience, simpering
and grimacing, and doing her utmost
to imitate a real live countess, while in
reality she only succeeds in resembling
a very inferior soubrette.
While Miss Falkiner, from tho Hall,
who is in private life her intimate
friend, now makes a poor pretence at
waiting upon her as confidential maid,
and renders herself utterly ridiculous
by giving herself sufficient airs for naif
a dozen conntesses.
Both are a distinct failure. Every
body tries to applaud, but disparaging
remarks fall lightly on the air.
The faint applause brings to life two
hardy veterans, who for some time past
have given themselves gratis to the
open arms of Morpheus, and have con
tentedly reclined therein.
“I think Miss Bodney has a better
obance of getting off than that sirl in
green," sleepily drawls Number One.
“Do you?” replies Number Two.
“Well, I’m not much of a judge about
that sert of thing; but my opinion is
neither will get off before the other.
You see, my dear fellow, when women
are born with a talent ter acting like
those two—two tyros, they don’t get
easily settled in life.”
Then the curtain draws up for tho
second time, and somebody comes slowly
on to the stage—somebody who sets
Cyril's pultes swiftly throbbing.
It is Dorothy. She is very pale, and
her eyes are a little languid ; but she
is just a degree lovelier than she ever
Disney hardly hears how the play
progresses. Not a syllable makes itself
known to him; he can only tell himself
how lovely she is looking, and that she
is false as fair.
Her eyes are on the ground; but
suddenly some words strike upon his
ear—words that bring back to him a
scene fraught with grief and anger.
He starts and lifts bis head; and for
the first time eagerly regards the
Ponsonby is on his knees before her.
He is holding her hands. His whole
attitude is as it was that fatal afternoon
in the conservatory. He is again pour
ing forth his sonl in words of extrava
And then Dorothy’s voice rises, clear
bnt sad, and devoid of the warmth that
had characterized it daring the re
“My heart has long been in yonr
keeping, and if yon wish it, it is
As she finishes her speech she raises
her eyes and fixes them steadily, and
with keenest reproach, on Disney, wuo
returns her gaze, his eyes full ot con
Then the scene changes, and Miss
Bohnn makes her exit, amid applaud
ings loud and deep.
The ourtain drops ; so, I mry almost
ssy, does Disney. How bitterly he now
repents hie unpardonable jealousy!
Where shall he hide himself from Dor
othy’s jnstly reproachful gaze?
Nothing he can ever do wiil make her
forgive him—of that be feels assured ;
and as he calls to mind the happy days
gat have been, “Bemembrance sits
upon him like a ban;” he feels “They
should beware who oharges lay in
Yet in spite of his despair, he deter
mines to make an effort to regain his
He will go to her. Bising suddenly,
he follows her to the K.oen-room, where
be knows she must be.
Bhe is tbere, and alone.
“Dorothy I" he says, entreatingly.
She tarns with a start.
“Can you spare me a few moments?”
“Can’t yon wait until the morning, or
•is it a matter of life or death V she
speaks very ooldly.
“That yonr answer shall decide."
“Yes.” Going np to her, betakes
both her hands in his, and holding them
in a, close clasp, says, eagerly, “Dar
ling, 1 have been a fool, a brute, every
thing unpardonable! Anything yon
could say to me would not be hard
enough. I will go on my knees for
your forgiveness, if you will only grant
it I Did you know half the misery I
have suffered I am certain you would.”
“Pm not so sure that I shall.”
“What! I shall die if you throw me
over like this—l shall indeed I"
“Oh, no, you won’t—not a little bit!"
says Miss Bohnn.
“But I assure you I will 1” exclaims
Disney. “Life would be impossible
“Well, but, you see, I have promised
‘ To be his wife?”
“No ; not exactly that.”
“Speak quickly I” he says, in alow
tone. “Suspense is maddening !”
“I have promised him to become a
member of the Archaeological Society,"
“And ooujdn’t you have said so be
fore?" says Cyril, with a deep sigh of
“How could I when yon were going
“Darling I can you forgive my folly?”
—coming still nearer to her as he
“There’s such a great deal of it, isn’t
there?" says Miss Bohnn. It will take
me all my time, won’t it?”
“Not all, I trust Spare me a little,
and I shall be more than content."
“Dearest Cyril,” she says, mischiev
ously, with a quick glance from under
her long lashes, and a relapse into her
rehearsal tone, “my heart has long been
in yonr keeping, and if yon wish it, it
“My love—my darling I" murmured
“Soft eyes looked lore to oyes which spake
And all wont merry ae a marriage bell.”
M. Benan has expressed the belief that
a century hence mankind will study
little else than physical science.
Plateau, the eminent Freneh natural
ist, flnds'that a June bng can exert os
great a force in preportion to its size as
Arsenic poisoning is not always to be
traced to green coloring. One ease was
due to red wall paper, and, the sub
stance is found abundantly in white,
blue, mauve and brown wall papers.
A great number of analyses and ex
periments condncted by A Levy show
that grapes ripened in sunlight contain
3.59 per cent, more sugar and 1,237 less
acids than those matured in darkness.
Freneh government commissions seem
to favor attempting the formation of an
Algerian sea by flooding the Sahara,
notwithstanding objections made.
There was at one time exhibited by
Mr. Bolt, an English merchant, a
thread, 10,000 feet long, spnn by
twenty-silk spiders in less than two
honrs, and whioh was five times as fine
as the thread of the silk worm.
A newly proposed plan for the venti
lation of tunnels is the nse of chemicals
for absorbing the imparities of the air.
A “chemical lung,” based upon this
principle, has been pnt to a satisfactory
test in London by a number of scien
Professor F. A. Abel considers it
donbtful whether coal dost in mines
can cause extensive explosions in the
complete absence of fire-damp, but only
a small proportion of fire-damp is
necessary to make the presence of the
dnst extremely dangerous.
When ooean cables are raised so many
of the crabs, corals, snakes and other
inhabitants oi the ocean bottom are
drawn up with them that cable repairing
has been suggested as a novel method
cf dredging, of which it is hoped some
competent naturalists may take advan
The attempt made by the Belgians to
introduce the Indian elephant into Cen
tral Africa has not been snoeessfnl.
The three elephants taken By the expe
dition have died, but it is believed that
this result has been censed by insuf
ficient food and excessive work. This
experiment is therefore not regarded as
conclusive, and further efforts will
doubtless be made to use the Indian
elephant as a beast of burden in African
The fat of the body is found by M.
Lanquer to vary greatly with age. In
infants it forms a firm tallow-like mass,
melting at 118 degress Fahrenhoit. The
fat of adults, however, sepsrates into
Quid and a solid layer at the ordinary
temperature ol a room, the solid portion
melting at 97 degrees—being com
pletely fluid at blood-heat. The vira
tion in the composition of the set is
very considerable, the oleio acid in
creasing and the palmetic and stearic
acids decreasing with age.
W. C. SMITH, Publisher.
ITEMS OF INTEREST.
In the United Kingdom of Great
Britain and Ireland there are about 10,
000 places of religious worship.
Oaptaiu Geochi, the Italian explorer
oi Eastern Africa, is not yet thirty
years old, bnt his faoe is wrinkled
and haggard, and his hair, once blaok,
almost snowy white—the effeot of the
terrible sufferings and privations he
bad endured on the dark continent
Statistics appear to show that Ger
many surpasses all othei countries in
the consumption of matches, the num
ber used there daily being as great as
from ten to fifteen per head of the pop
ulation. This fact is attributed to the
almost universal custom of emoking.
According to the census ot 1881 the
following ten towns of France have
more than 100,000 inhabitants: Paris
2,225,910; Lyons, 872,887; Marseilles,
'357,530 ; Bordeaux, 220,955; LiUe, 177,-
fi43. Toulouse, 136,627 ; Nantes, 121,-
965 ; St. Etienne, 120,120 ; Rouen, 104,-
721; Havre, 102,615.
The value of gold yearly obtained in
Australia is abont S4OO per miner. The
nnmber of men who are content to follow
this branch of industry amounts to 38,-
568, which, though much less than the
63,787 who were st work in 1869, is still
a large number in a population of only
A marble bust of Pope Pius IX whioh
has recently been finished by the
French sculptor, Megret, and whioh has
been greatly admired by the visitors
who Hocked to see it, has jnst been pur
chased by Leo XIII, and placed in the
Immaoulate Conception Hall of the
Vatican. The bust is considered a very
striking likeness of the deceased pontiff,
“ Joyous, happy birds ” indeed,
should those be whioh fly the air of
Michigan. The game law of that State
forbids the killing of u robin, night
hawk, whippoorwill, finch, thrush, lark,
sparrow, cherry bird, brown thrasher,
wren, martin, oriole, woodpecker, bob
olink, or any other song bird, under a
penalty of five dollars for each bird
killed, and for each nest robbedjten
days in the county jail.
When the Bev. Henry Ward Beeoher
was preparing his famons “ Lectures to
Young Men,” he held a long interview
with one of the most notorious gambl
ers in the country, and then used the
information about gamblers and gam
bling dens obtained from him in hie
wonderfully realistic discourse on that
subject. After the delivery of the lec
ture a “ too previous ” young man tried
to turn the laugh on Mr. Beecher, by
asking him how he could de
scribe a gambling hell so accu
rately, if he had never been in one.
“If you have never been in one yonr
self,” replied Mr. Beecher, “ how do
you know my description is aoourate?”
WORDS OF WISDOM.
No one knows the weight of another*
Better be ont of fashion than out of
Do not ride till you are reedy, or you
may fall off.
Much learning shows how little mortal
Better a diamond with a flaw than
a pebble withont.
People’s intentions can only be de
cided by their cbndnot.
Oue hair of a woman draws more than
a team of horses.
No man is more miserable than .he
that hath no adversity.
An effort made for the comfort of
others lifts us above ourselves.
The best way to silenee a talkative
person is never interrupt them.
On the day of victory no weariness is
Be graceful if you can; but if you
oan't be graceful be true.
No Legislature or Government ever
enacted au honest man.
The high-minded find it eaaler to grant
than to accept favors.
The man who ia always right find*
every one else always wrong.
The truly wise man should have no
keeper of his secret but himself.
A cheerful face is nearly aa good for
an invalid as healthy weather.
Gratitude is the fiirest blossom which
springs from the soul, and the heart of
man knoweth none more fragrant.
Strive to impress on your children
that the only disgraceatteohed to honest
work ia the disgrace of doing it badly.
The dark grave, which knowa all
secrets, can alone reclaim the fatal
doubt onoe cast on woman’s name.
Many a genius has been slow of
growth. Oaks that flourish tor 1,000
years do not spring np into beauty like
e reed.—[George Henry Lewes