Newspapers / The Dispatch (Franklinton, N.C.) / Dec. 23, 1887, edition 1 / Page 1
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TELL BOTH SIPES, AND TAKE THE CONSEQUENT*KS. •Troii. 1. FRANKDEN'TON, N. C., FRIDAY DEC. S3,1887. NO. 24. IS PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY THE DISPATCH PWK «HW, -4 ' 's R. F. MORRIS, - - * ■* Publisher. E. W. MORRIS, - Local Editor and Agent. BAYLUS CADE. - -- - Editor. SPBSCRIPflOH PRICE >1.00 PER YEAR H ADVAICE. •STAll communications to The IDis patch should be sent to Bay lues Cade, Editor, LOek Box lOS, Louisbnrg, Ns C. •S^All advertisements must be handed In by Tuesday evening or they will be left over until next issue. ' THE WEEK BEFORE CHRISTMAS. ’Tis the week before Christmas, And all in the house Are plotting aud planning As sly as a mouse. Strange bundles are smuggled In si ile, unaware, Aud hidden away with The greatest of care. The children, with secrets They’re burning total!, And in an excitement That uothing can quell. ; Are hourly asking How many more days l Before it is Christmas, With cheeks all ablaze. The old folks are eager. The fever have caught, And crowd in' the places Where presents are bought, To then Merry Christmas Is sweeter, we know, Thau when :ne im u stocking* were Idled . g ago. Way up from the chea . Spiced odors a i i.-e Uf genuine, home made, Delieiouviniuoe-ii.e.-, *¥■ Just stalled full of iai-ius As biganu as r.tu.id As little Jack tinnier So happiiy found. The loug winter nights All much longer appear, For who can sleep soundly With Christmas so near. ' t And now, for-the stockings? No cot’s tiuy hose Can’t hold half the treasures Kriss Kringle bestows; So mamma’s big ones Are got with delight. All ready to hang up On Santa Claus’ night. Now, Christmas is near! and St. Nick in his sleigh, Behind his swift reindeers, Is flying this way He’s now on the snow-clouds, He’ll be at your gate; .Prepare for liis coming— There’s no time to wait. II. C. Dodge A BUNCH OF PANSIES BY #ANNJK ISABEL SUERRICK. “Good-bye!” It was a madness of farewells. The two stood looking into one another’s eyes with blanched faces. Would he ever come back? Her wide eyes grew desolate as she looked at him. Then the lashes dropped over them, and she lay motionless against his breast for a second, as though the spirit had died within her, “Jeanette—is this the girl fitted to be a soldier’s wife? Have you no re gard for my honor?’ His voice quivered, but his eyes looked down upon her pounly. “1 es.” She roused Lerself bravely, "Your duty is at the front I woul > ’ not hold you back.” She placed her hand on the bunch of pansies at her throat; royal beau ties they were, with great velvety hearts of purple and gold. “They are my colors,” she whis pered, “Wear them, inv night, and be true to your lady' always.” Her trembling finger pinned them inside his coat. ‘God be with you.” She kept tilt* j^tMn back, smiting imo his face, though the drum-beat sounding in the street below seemed like a death knell. It was the signal o start. The signal tor the volunteer:, the brave men who were off for the ind.&n wa —-Uns dread sul war that Itud come like a bight upon ■ ec beauti ful Western home. “Good-by and God bless you! The pansies will be my taisman.’* A last look into »he dreamy, 1 fled ***d Jte was *»way, rid ng down the street mith a dasu aucl a clat ter into the midst of the excfted men who were armed to the teeth, well mounted and equipped, ready to meet on bis own battle ground the Indian chieftain and his warlike band. , The most intense exe.teraent raged ** Wining camp. Ever since the news had‘come that the old chief was on'tbe war path. a nl tlie call had been made for volunteers to defend the, settlers on the frontier, the town bad been alive with men anxious to obtain the sca'p of the bloodthirsty redskin. Two days before the militia had been ordered out, and just as the set ing sun was 'illuminating the red buttes in tire valley the brave boys had marched away, the strains • f the martial music sounding sadly in the ears of those who had loved ones in the ranks. And now:these plucky volunteers were to follow. A determined set they were; most of them hardy mountaineers, as well trained to ii saddle as cowboys, and fis reckless of life and 1 mb. Among them none were more fear less or more brave than A el Ashby, lie wu.-> one of ine young pion ers w .« had -'■truck a bonanza in the mine-.. .Mo e ilia hat (to use t!.e I* rabeoiocj . Iht- mining eaiup), ue ba i 1 cafcjii actat n .».i the prei ti st girl in town and patented1 it—a s.roive . i goml . ucK tna h (1 made mm more envied among the boys tua.li eveu Ins mining shares in the ••Alay Queen.” Jeanette, standing at the window, gazed with a dumb despair at the horsemen riding down the valley. Among tuem none h oke<t so hand some or so dashing as her own lover. ! he whose warm kisses still lingered o » her lips. The tears rose slowly in her eyes as she looked after him. The worid was so beautiful, why should it be marred by such a tiling as war? Her eyes wandered away from the horse men now lost in a cloud of dust to the fair mountain that hemmed her in. - It was Septem er la Colorado, and jt' e byautiful queen, Summer, was looking backward'over the mountain, leaving her smiles on tne blossoms and the green slopes that tu ned to gold and crimson as she passed. The next three days weie days of suspense and almost agony' to the patient ones left at home. Woat if the brave little baud suould be am bushed in same narrow canyon, and brutally butchered, as were Thorn burgh’s companies? The Meeker massacre was too fresh in the minds of air concerned for them not to think of the terrible fate that miuht befall these courageous men, and and when news came of iheir safe arrival «-n the Indian battle ground, there was a rejoicing which was uni versal. And with the good news came a letter for Jeannette from Ned-r-so luli of tenderness for her, so full of courage- and hope for himself. He expected to goon a scouting expedi tion the next day with Major R —:—, a dangerous affair, but his words we:e full of bravery and enthusiasm. She trembled a little a< she rea!, for she knew his fearles seli*w.1ied jiiature. so ready to risk life and limb in the service of otfers. 1 ben passed many a weary days and nights in which no word came— nights which site t-p«mi jo prayert in rhe pret y cl amher overlooking the vine shadowed porch;-night* when she looked *»u! upon tne $ le.it' lUndlit world, its shadow^. upr« achm* moun tain , aliim-t , lerewig the dim stars* lii .a dark foreboding of e*il in ter he rt, t ying in \aiu to »tiil the tumu'1 i bat levttefi iter brain. 0*1 liuit-8 it seemed as if Ler every breath we e a prayer. Tneu cau.e the ne«s of a fierce battle between the Utes and the Major’s meu, iu which many were w»uuded on either side. Her father came home at noon wit,h an open telegram in bis hand. She took it from bun Silently, read ing: **.; rT “Edward Ashby was wounded in the battle of the—th inst.” I . She did no$ faint, though be had expected she would, but her face blanched—blanched netil it was like marble- and her eyes grew large and black, glowing like stars. • “I must go,” she said, “and nurse him.” “Dear child*” he replied, his hand upon hers, ‘this is Folly, the talk of insanity. You cannot go, Jean nette.” “But I will.” Tho color leaped to her cheeks again and her eyes flashed. He could not sav her nay then. He knew her nature too well. Thwarted, in this des re. she would die. “I cannot go-with you, Jeanette. Can von go alone!” r ‘•Yes ’ She drew herself « up grind 1\\ It was t • proud right of the Western American girl. She Know'tin fear. y* six the le *4 morning her favor ite horse, P'ato, st 'O 1 pit the do • r. He wes a noble fellow; her la thhii eom,»a ion in every m uutain ad venttir'* Mounted o i this splendid creature, her slen ■ er figu e had long h en a'familiar' o e to t ;e mountain eers. Her feariessn -s-. her woman liness m i 1 er gracious acts of kind liiicss and goo 1 will had endeared her to every inhabitant of the camp. vMv de r philosopher, he will car ry me safely through’,” she said, pat ting his arched neck affectionately, and laying her small head for $ mo ment against his own. The sun was just lighting the Tar peaks. He had not .peeped over the high m*«nfains yet into the little vailpy where the <^u:et town lay asleep. All was in shadow, all, save the little golden aspens, whose quiv ering. leaves gleamed fiitully in the growing light. At nightfall she was at the Springs, fifty miles away. It was a popnlti summer resort, and many, guests had been there, but at the first news of war most of them had fled to the Eastern towns. At the hotel many people knew her, but ihey had only words of syin put1 y and encouragement for the brave girl, In that exeit:ng time deeds of bravery 111 e thisJ even from women, were not rate.* Tee General, who had headquar ters at tiie Springs, and who iiad heard of her arrival and her purpose, sent for her in the evening. She came to him with eager eyes, awaiting the news which he had just received by courier from the scene of battle. Beyond the Springs there were no telegraph wires, and the couriers rode day and night over the dangerous Iudian trails to bring the O* h lings. -Is there any news of him?” she altere 1. % ‘•Yes.” The General’s voice almost choked as he looked at her. How could : e break the heart or this, brave young creature whose great love made her so beautiful, its unselfish purpose shining from every feature? How could he ted her the cruel truth, with t-ose love lit, starry eves fixed so uutiin. hing upon his? “Child,” he said, his hand upon hers, evtn as her father’s had been, ! his eyes full of kindness, his stern voice sud tenly tender, “your hivet is ! «*ad. Tlie coururjust in staves that ! tie died yesterday afternoon,” Not one viH tsinc from t er lips. The great eyes gave him one stricken -look. and then she fell—fell just where she Stood at his feet, like a ! helpless, broken reed. fc the lifted her uo gently-and' called for assistance. But in a little whiLe she revive 1. rising to her feet with tiie old brave determination upon her i. pale face in those deep, mournful ! e3'ps “I must go to hi n.” she said “They will bury him there,* and 1 shall never look opera his face again, ♦I most go!” "«£ •-> The General did not attempt to j dissuade her. He felt almost rever ent in the presence of sudi devotion, j The gruff old soldier was moved by ; this girl’s heart-breek as no scene of battle had ever moved him. ♦‘An escort of- my beat and bravest men shall accompany you ” he said. “They will protect yon and bring the bodv here.” , ! “Thank y ou.” It was all she could say, but tears of gratitud* rose in her .eyes as she bent lo# over his extend ed lisnd. And then for the first time she learned the fu.ll particulars of her lover’s exploit.; how he had led the scouting party, rushing boldly into th.e very face of the f e. and bv this action saving the military from the ambush the savages had prepared for them. In a moment the battle had begun, but ere his comrades were hand to hand with the redskins, who' seemed to lurk behind every bush and tree, this b d I young soldier bad met hi-ofate falling with his face to the foe “At least he-died like a hero” her heart w'dspere l whenever the bitter ness of her woe threatened to over whelm her. i Two days later after a long and •! weary journey, her little party | reached the soldiers’ camp. The | hoys had intrenched themselves be hind a smxll knowl overlooking the surrounding country,.fortifying them selves with earthworks against any attack from the Indians. T he flag of truce was up, however, and all things see ned for the present peaceful. The soldiers looked with astonish ment as the small cavalcade cams upon them, that girlish figure in their midst, her fair face tinged by the sun and wind into a warmer beauty, her dark eyes resplendent with dauntless courage. For many, many miles back her straight form had drooped, not as though with physical. wean I ness, but as though the spirit within j her were slowly dying. Next to her heart she wore hi3 letter—the last words his dear hand had penned. She did not need to read them, for every word was graven upon her memo y, but the burden of- tlieir warm love, now dead to herv for ever, was pressing more more heavily upon her tender heart. But now4 at sight of these soldiers, all her pride uprose. She sat erect in the saddle, the color coining and going in her fa e, lnr eyes glowing. She raised her head nobly, as became the woman who had been beloved by a hero. At sight of her the hoys raised a cheer. Many of the miiilia knew her and they were proud of her. They knew her for what she was—a brave heroic girl, purely, sweetly, womanly, vet ready as any of her brothers to take the weapons from belt and de fend her life or that of any she loved —a girl imbued with the gloty and the strength of her native moan tains. She acknowledged their eheers with a sw*et, grave dignity; Then tlie leading officer in her escort whispered -omethinc to the Major ere he beared her (o dismount. She caught the reply* It made her ■ remble; but with the suspicion of A grear joy, not of sorrow. 1 “Not dead !” were the words which came from her wuite lips with a “No”—the Major came to her side quickly—“tiki Conner made a mis take. It was Ned Sampson who died. Aside}* -till lives, though he lies still almost atdeath’s door.'* All a mistake—all a horrible dream!—oh! such happiness was at rao-t impossible, io realize! Giving, her band to the Major, she almost leaped from the saddle. H>t feet seemed, like the winged Mercury’s, to sped to him. The Majer led the way into-the leut where the wounded man lay, motioning the guard aside. Then he left her, followed by the young officer w ho, had been iu attendance. Alone, the girl threw herielf on v' / - JV ff r-* - . * - f.-.'f her knees bocide her lover. But there was no recognition in that deep blue eves—those proud, brave eyes that had never met her own save in love and tenderness. He was uncon scious, with the delirium of the fever upon him. The words he murmured were of the battle field, not of the manj'. brave girl who had ridden so many weary lilies just to look upon his / ead face. Taking up the hand that helpless against the rough blankets, lay so then, 1 from she pressed it to her lips; anc for the first time, the tears fe her eyes—fell in a hot, blinding mls». What pain and anguish had not done, j »y that he still lived, and that she had readied him in time to ^ive all her young life to his care and Service. Hi3 coat—the one he had worn when parting from her—lay on the bed. Her eyes darkened as She saw the stains of blood and thi bullet hole. She took it in her hands, cx ami liing it* keenly. There were the pnnsie-*. faded and worn, still pinned inside The bullet had passed through just above them. “Had the bullet strurk ljim an inch lower.” one of the men after, wards told her, “it would havefproved fatal ” Perhaps the pansies, by some subtle infliiloice, had saved him; perhaps her own. spirit, in that moment of agony, t*ad passed into them, I them indeed a real talisman j tect him. She loved to thin! that God had answered her ' prayers by investing these, her chosen flowers, with the povVer to $ave his life. It was o:tly a girlish fancyf but it ! made her happy. She took ihe dead, sweet blossoms and laid thfem ten derly* away. . Until they became as dust these faded flowers would be scarcely cherished. The nyxt few days brought with them endless cate and anxiety : life hung by a thread. A wo His an the j m^n had rescued from an adjoining ranche came to assist Jeanette, and not one of the soldiers but would have risked his life to have done her a service. Her gentle marners won them all. and her patient love, so pure and brave in its devotioig made them feel as never before the high grac- and worth of womanboo^. T»,e officers were untiring ifi their attention to the. wounded man. and gave the girl relief at every oppor tunity. Still it was a weary task, acd when at last he was pronionneed out of danger, she worn out m stupor lse her id not ;e red til the ce83:nit watching fell into a| from which they coaid not arc for lumrs. All ' this time the camp been without menace, but skins bad been kept at bay u» arriva* of fresh troops. Through all this danger, Jeanette had been un wavering. Not one expression of fear had passed her lips, though she. like all the rest, drew a stgh of re lief when the troops arrived. Then followed a hot pursuit of the rn of Indians; they were poshed the reservation. Jennet1 e came to Ned’s one day with a look cf joy oj lovely fftce. “Ned.” she cried, wi h a ret her old life and spirits, “the war is over. Peace is declared, a*d We are going to take you home to-morrow,” For answer he silently pressed the small, warm hand that crept idto his ; own. Whenever was there a sweet heart so tender and trne, so beautiful and brave! When they readied the Springs loud and wild were the cheers given for the brave boys returning frr»m the war; and not onlj^for the bora, hot for the brave girl who had dared to go to the front for !ove*s sake, the glorious sweep of the spangled flag fehe rode, her cheeks aflame - like ; the crimson slopes, and 1 splendid with the sunlight of love^— Erank Leslie's. T * l ah »w >i S . .***». Under RATES OF ADVERTISING. 1 square 1 time,. .... ..m..J|9SLwj; *• 1 month,... #.00 ** 3 month*,.. 4.00, tt mouth*,-... 6.00 ** 12 iqoiithi*, .. lw.OU Contract*lor larger .-pare* can be made , at ^really reouceu lutes by applying to the Soliciting Agent. Local notices to regular advertisers out cent a .oril, To those not regular advertisers ten ceu'ts a line - - . iSy*Send for sample copies. t Clipped from Exchanges. “Pa* what does a wedding mean!** Pa (looking over his papsr): It means, my son, that if the wedded parties were free they wooden gel , married again. That’s all.” “Why do not women get ba’d?’ asks an exchange. It seems to us that any one ought to be able to answer that. It’s because they don’t have wives. f ’ U <4' * ,'ior .iaMn 'flit | It was the firm belief of the Tar tars that whoever touched a beautiful woman with a kingfisher’s feather would win her love. This wa9 before the age of the golden dollar, hofH ever. “My dear,” said a husband to bis wife as he paid the week’s bills and had a little change left over, “dy’e (hie) know why on Saturday night I’m (hie) suthin’ like an elephant?’ •‘Because your voice is apt to get tuskey, John.’’ suggested his wife.j “No, m’ dear; because Pm (h:c) able to make both euds meet.” Young Man (to business manager of daily newspaper)—“Are there any vacancies on the editorial staff, sir?’ Business Manager (sourlv)-TTul should say so. Tbere’s the editor and his assistant; they are both on the staff yet.” ' Omaha Wife-?-W bat under the sun are youidoing? Husband—Trying to tie this string . • - .> around my finger. “Why,! did not ask you to do any errand.” “No; this strfng is to remind me that I have nothing to remember to i * day. Violent rain storm—crowded street car—handsome lady and gentleman on platform. Gentleman (to those inside)—Can you squeeze a lady in there* Chorus of male voices—Yes, certainly. Lady goes in—gets squeezed. Young Crimsonbeak—Goose again fur difiner to-day? Landlady—“Yes, sir.” Young Crimsonbeak—“Well, I de clare I’ve boarded here for three years and L think you’ve had goo-0 fur dinner nearly every day.” Landlady—“I guess you're right, Bftr. Crimsonbeak. You very Seldom miss a meal ” Lincoln Boy: “My father’s been laid up sick for a week.” “That’s nawthinp my dad’s been laid up two weeks.” “My father has a felon on bis fin ger as bigas a tbimhie.” „| [A pause.} / “That’s nawthin* my dad's got a carbuncle on his neck biggev’n a goose egg.” # [Another pause.} “The doctor says my father won’t be able to work for a month. ’ [Triumphantly.} ‘And the doctor says my dad’ll likely die.” * ^ A pupil in one ofthe { ub’ic schools of Philadelphia compiled recently in tlte following manner with a" request to write a composiion on tbe subject of a physiological lecture .to'which the school had just listened : “The human body is mSde up of the head, the thorax and the abdo ' >sti '• 'k t | men. “The brad contains the brains, when there is soy. The thorax cont^ns the heart and j» t - ■ > a.i •. .t the lungs. “Tl»e abdomen contains the bow els of which there are five: A, E, I, O, and U, and sometimes W. and Y.” Motlier—“Tommy, yoo hay# been so bad that 1 shall not give you any pm.' i ei "> Tommy—“No, pie ! H*mma*plea*t give me a lu king-ioatead af potting off my. pie.” - ; ; : -v:, it; «'*•$• v’V -
The Dispatch (Franklinton, N.C.)
Standardized title groups preceding, succeeding, and alternate titles together.
Dec. 23, 1887, edition 1
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