North Carolina Newspapers

vol in. LINCOLNTON, N. C, FRIDAY, MARCH 11, 1890. NO. 44 Young Ai)irim' Race. Young Mr. O'Douovan (native born, to his father of foreign ex- traction) Don't yer go deceivin' jtrself by tbiiikin'I'iii a cry in' 'cause jer licked me, for 1 ain't. I'm all upset at bein1 struck by a furriner, an1 not bein' able to stiike back ! JLJt. - Helping the Teacher Out. Little Tommy bad spent his first day at school. 'What did you learn V asked Lis aunts on his return. 'Didn't learn anything", said Tom my. 'Well, what did you do !' 'Didn': do auythiug ! A woman wanted to knov how to spell 'cat,' and I told her.' London Tit' Bits. 'Ob, Lord ! how you made me jump !' as the grasshopper remarked when he was first created. urr ard Lampoon.' To see Senator Beck drink aojapi pie tod ly is declared by experts to be a liberal education. Washington Republic. WRITING TAUGHT BY MAIL IS IS 2iIe!2IR AN ESXPKeilBIlSmP BUf A IDECIBID SUCCESS 16' TAUGHT BY Q. P. JOJSFS. It you want to learn to write beautifully, aud stay at home, now is your time. TWELVE HA3IMOTH LE3SONS, COVERING A PERIOD OF THREE MONTHS FOR $3 00. A BEAUTIFUL PIECE OF WRITING FOR 15 CENTS. Out dozen or more wajs of signing your name for a Silver Quarter. A sheet of elegantly combined signatures 20 cents. One dozen haudsome ards with name on 25 ceuts. Sample Jessou in writing 35 cents. Send me an order aud be con vinced tbat my work is all 1 claim for it- ..For 50 cents I will send you some of the best writing you ever saw. Write for Circular enclosing a 2 cent stamp. Your writing is excellent, you ate destined to become a grand pen raau. H. J. Williamson, President "Feu Art Hall", Florence, Ala. Specimens ot Card writing to hand. They are models of grace and beauty. Your writing is superb. W. D. Showaxter, Editor Pen Art Herald, Choi ago, 111. l'rof. Jones is not only a beautiful writer, but an excelleut, and suc cessful teacher D. Matt Thompson, Principal Piedmout emiuary. 3 The cash must accompany each order. Priu. Business Dep't- of Piedmont Seminary, inoolutou,N .0.,Nov.b,'89,l D. W. ROBINSON, ATTORNEY AT LAW. Lincointon, N. C. Practices in this and surround ing counties. AUo in State and Federal Courts. RiTNext door to the Racket. 4t ., 1SS1). Jy. L I, WITHERSP00N, ATTORNEY AT LAW, NEW ON, N. O Practices in the Courts of Cataw ba, Lincoln, and adjoining counties. Aon-ey to Loan on improved farmc in Catawb-i and Lincoln counties in sums of $300 and upwards, on louj. time and easy terms. Will meet clients at the Alexander House, iu Lincointon, on second and fourt Mondays in each month. Aug. 2, 1889. tf. v Sukvlem Nights, inaJe miserable by tbat terrible cough. Shiloh'a Cure is the remedy for you. "For sale by J. Keedy&co. RACiHEWIS. jf Log.LumberYard a GitVTrucRs ciHH ING M i s i n for in f d . Mr?. I o Co i k 1 e 'What is yonr son doing now, Mrs. McCrnckle?' Mrs. McCrackle 'He is a pharmacist.' Mr.. McCorkle 'A farm assist, is he ? Why, I heerd eome one say he wa-j clerking in a drug store.' JuJqr. At Ten O'clock Sharp. 'I am the speaker of this house,' eail Jennie's papa, in no uncer tain tones, 'and I shall notify that young man of yours that when I make a motion to adjourn it does not require a second in order to go into effect. The motion to ad journ will be made at 10 o'clock sharp." Minneapolis Times. 'Yes, Sir yes. Sir we are being taxed to death i;; this country !' he shouted, as he stood on the rear platform of a street car. 'How much taxes do you pay, for in stance ?' quiotly asked one of the group. 'How much I How much do 1 pay ? 1 I well, 1 am not talking for myself, but for my broth er, ills taxes wonia have oeen at least 812 this year if he hadn't, sold out.' Detroit Free Press. English Spaviu Liniment removes all Hard, Soft, or Calloused Lumps aud Blemishes from horses, Blood Spavin, Grubs, Splints, Sweeney, Riug-bone, tides, Spraius, all Swollen Throats, Ooughs,Etc. Save $50 by use of 1 bottle. Warranted the most wonderful blemish cure ever known. Sold by J. M. Lawiug, Physciau and Puarmacist, Lin cointon. LAND SALE. BY virtue of a Deed of Trust made to me by Richmond Scott in order to secure a debt by him con tracted with H- S. Robinson, which deed ot trust is duly registered iu Lincoln couoty Registry Book 03, Page 2 of Deeds, I will sell at the Court House door iu Lincointon, at 12 o'clock noon and on the 1st Modi day of court week March 31, 1890, that tract of land now owned and farmed by the said Richmond Scott and lyiug on the Tuckasegee Road and also on the C. C. R. R. and C. & L. N. G. R. R. about 1 mile Est of the courthouse and ajoining the lands of B. H. Sumner and others, containing Gi acres. Sale to be at public auction to the highest bid der for cash. J. L. COBB, Trustee. Feb. 25, 1S90. 2 23 4t W AGO NSf ALL STYLES. T Ladies Chaise. PATEHX CHAISE BKAKE. FISH BR9S7WAG9H G9- RACME,VJIS. The Oak anil the Vine. A FABLE. An old oak tiee,uear a shaded wood, Was puzzled because it could do no good ; Its bark was rugged, its limbs were bare, nm,ru' utMmy or me was mere Save its tender heart, which throbs bed with pain, Fearing it might uot be useful again. With eyes tbat were eager it search ed everywhere For someth'ng on which it might lavish it care, Aud first in the twilight a glitter. ing star Attracfed its gaze to the heavens afar. The tree exclaimed loudly, "Bright gem of the sky, May not I assist you ? Oh, do let me try." Bat the star twinkled gaily and only replied, ' The distance between us, old tree, is too wide.'' Resolved that it would not be baf- fled so soon The oak cast a glance at the silvery moon, Aud pleaded, Oh, hear me,fair queen of the mghr, To serve or assist you would be my delight, 7 But the moon veiled her face with a light floating cloud, And orood in no need of assistance she vowed. The oak wasindiguaut,its face wore a frown ; Repelled from above it resolved to look down. And lo, at its feet, rather small to be seeD, Grew a delicate vine with its ten drils of green. It murmured, "Ob, Jong I've been trying to stand, But had not ehe courage, pray give me your band ; Long have I uttered this low feeble crj Bat you could not hear me, your head was so high." So the vine stretched its tendrils, the tree caught them fast Till danger of slipping or falling was past ; Theu climbing still upward it daily grew bold, And daily some beauty aud grace would unfold. Thus reaching the branches it cov ered them over, And the old barren tree was un sightly no more. Now ye who are anxious, with wish that is true, To know your whole duty, that duty to do ; Ere searching through fields that are distant and wide Scan closely the duty that stands at your side. r. s. r. Tbe Aiuerieau Woman. It U interesting to hear what Mrs Kendal thinks about American wo. men and their possibilities. Iu New lork the other day she said : "The American woman Is a continual sur prise to me. A card would be brought up to me, rjronerlv en graved and beariug the name, say Mrs. Smith, I was out, and the next day I would get a note from Mrs. Smith, charmingly writteu, regret ting my absence aud asking when she would find me at home. I would write aud tell her, and then there would appear a lady, well dressed, well educated, who had seen almost everything therewas to see, and talked about Ihsen and the latest fads. While she was with me another caller would come in, aud after Mrs. Smith went away tbe second oue would inform me that twenty years ago Mrs. Smith was standing behind a counter selling peauuts corner, or helping her moth er in a laundry. I would go to a luncheon at Mrs. Smith's bouse; the service was perfect, the rooms ex quisitely furnished, the hostess her self charming. Now, this could only happen in America, and why? Take an English woman in the same stan d'ogi get her governess to teach her French, get her a music master, some one to teach her to hold her knife and fork correctly, to receive her guests properly, and she simply never could learn. There is some thing in the American, especially in the feminiDe brain, that seems to grasp the right idea with a quick ness that is wonderful, which I, as au English woman, intensely ad mire. There are no women in the world like them.'7 Subscribe lor the LINCOLN Cou RIER, $1.50 a year. From the Old Homestead. JOHN RUSSELL. In the shadows of the Cumber land mountains stands the elegant home of Mr. Nolon. The eminence ul,on whic thft ma-'sion stands commands a fine view of the river, which meets tho grassy lawn hs its margin, winding onward, almost making an island of tho Nolon homestead. North and west looms up the great Cumberland, standing like a sentinel, guarding the homes that rest at its feet: 'Aunt Dilsy, call me early in the morning. My trunks are packed aud ready. See that Jim does not take my valise in ihe baggage wagon. I will carry that.' 'Dou't you pester, my chile. Your ole mammy, what nuss and raise you, ain't gwine ter let you go off to dat low country 'cept you is fixed risht. I put your comb, brush, and your slippers iu de right ban' wide of de 'lise. I wrap up a bundle of wafers ?n' put in dar, 'cause you ain't gwine ter git none of ole DiN sy's cooking trab'iin' on de kears.' Among thft first things tbat Clara Nolon could remember was tho kind face of Aunt Dilsy smiling down upon her. Mr. Nolon had been a wealthy planter, before the war owning many slave, aud he. lived a life ot quiet ease. His wif was a sweet, gentle lady, who lived but a few days after Clara was born. Fol lowing close upon this bereavement was the ernancipatiou of the slaves, but, through it all, there remained oue true to him and his child old faithful Dilsv who had always the Cire of the household, and who styled herself little Clara's 'black mammy.7 She boldly declared tbat freedom meaut. nothing to her, as she never expected to leave Mat motherle.SH chile to follow free nig gers round.' The years passed quietly and swiftly with Mr. Nolon. No other woman had ever supplanted Clara's mother in his affi-ctious. He was contented to watch his little daugh ter grow, all unconsciously, from a tender bud into a beauteous flower, shedding a rich fragrance of love and gentleness around her, making her the idol of her father's heart. Clara sat on the marble steps of her home, with faithful dog Bruno at her feet. She heard the click of the gate, and, looking up, saw through the shadows the form of John Kussell approaching. 'Good-evening, John. It is so kind ot you to come to-night, since I am to start on my long promised visit to Jennie in the morning. Sit here by me and we will watch the moon rise.' We will miss you sadly,' said John, as he took the proffered seat. Yes ; but yon know I have not seen Jennie since we left school. She writes me she is anxiously awaiting my arrival. 'What conquests you and your classmate will make. How I do pity the poor moths who will get their wings aiuged,' said John, playfully, as ho tapped Clara on the cheek. T am not after making conquests,' said Clara, 'bat I do want to see something of the world. Jennie writes me that the winter promises to be a brilliant on for New Or leans.' 'Clara,' and John Russell's band some face looked grave, 'I want you to go and enjoy yourself, but you will meet much glittering tinsel that is net gold. I hope you will be wise enough to discern the differ ence. Don't think I want to mar any of your bright anticipations,but for some reasou it weighs on my spirits when 1 think of your ab sence. I will leave for Germany be fore you return, to finish my medi cal course,' 'Ob, John, you will Dot leave be fore I return, I hope, I regret so much the necessity of your going so far from home. How I will miss yon. We were never separated long, except when you were at college and I at boarding school.' But you will be pleased when 1 return fitted to fill a useful 6phere iu life?' 'Yes,' answered Clara, softly. ' 'Clara,7 said JohD, as he drew nearer to her, 'we have known each otner Miiee our earliest recollection, aud for me life has l en oue bright, happy dream. To be near you and Know mat you still possessed the pure, sweet innocence of your child hood filled me with delight and I was content to see and Im near yon. But now we are soon to go different ways, and, mv darlinjr, I fciu-w not how dear you uere to me until I came to bid yon good-bye. Clara, I love you. I can't let you go without telling you.' 'John,' and Clara auswered calai Iy 'you have always been more like a dear brother to me, alwaS8o kind and thoughtful of my welfare.' 'It was because I loved you, Clara, but I never realized the depth of it until to-night.' 'I prize your Iove,dear John ; yon have always been so kind and true. I have never loved another.' Let me have time to consider.' 'So be it then my dearest,' said John Russell, a3 he tenderly kissed her hand and was gone. It was a gay and fashionable throng that had assembled in the parlors of Mrs. Sinclair. The re ception was given in honor of her daughter's friend, Mi?a Clara Nolon. Sweet strains of music are wafted through the loffy rooms, while the rich fiagrance of rare exotics 11 1 1 the air. Many very fair women and handsomer men have been gathered. Lovely did Clara look in her dress of white albatros, old point lace, aad pearls. Nothing became her blonde beanty more. 'Who ts that fair young ladyt' The person was a dark, and hand some geutlemau, speaking to Jens nie Sinclair, who was radiant in her rich crimson velvet and diamonds. 'Why, that ii my dear friend Shall I introduce you?' When C!ata looked up aud saw Victor Lorraine's splendid dark eyes bent upon her she felt a thrill of indiscribable joy pass over her. She was ahy and embarrassed in his presence, and jet when alone she was constantly thinking of him, and was glad when he asked pep mission to call again. Time passed on. To Clara it was a sweet dream, from which she never wished to awake. Victor Lon raine had entered into the inner sanctuary of her heart's temple and his dark, haudsome face and fascia Dating manners were always before her. She eagerly quaffed the n. tared drops of bliss, and all the world seemed to be bright and beautiful. She often thought of John Russell, from whom she heard regnlatly. 'Dear John,' Clara would often say within herself, 'my life long friend, how thoughtful you have ever been to me!' Victor was devoted to her and urged a speedy marriage. He was ojawarm, impulsive nature, rest less of restraint. He pleaded his suit se earnestly that she was loth to refuse. Clara put of writing -jo John day after day, for she knew now, since she herself had entered the world of love, that John had always loved her, and she grieved to pain his noble heart. Five years have passed away. Over the city hangs-heavy laden clonds, while the rising smoke from thousands of chimue flues adds intensity to their gloom. The sum mer has been unusually hot and dry. Sitting iu her room is Clara, bus ily stitching a herriog-bone row of embroidery around tbe neck and sleeve of a little dress, when she hears the patter of little feet down the hallway. It is faithful old Dilsy, who has been to give the children au airing. Clara's married life has been a happy one. God had blessed her with two sweet children Eri nest, who was her fatler's exact counte part, with little Clare, with her bright blue eyes and flaxen curls, was very like her mother. Victor was a kind and loving bus band. She had been blest and the asked for no more. Early one morn ing Dilsy rushed in her room and fell on her knees at her mistress' feet. Her eyes were dilated and she was trembling in every limb. My chile, de Lord have mercy ! Dat yellow lever am come to dis city. Ob, my chile, if I des had you and dem little lambs away up in Tennessee on master's place ! 'What do you mean V asked Clara in frightened tones. 'De doctors tried to smnggle it in de hospitals, but it jus' keep spreadin' and spreadin'.' The door opened and Victor came in. lie confirmed Clara's worst fears. The vellow fever wna niMn them that dreadful scourgo that means death to so many and there was no way of escaping, as every i--" outlet was closely guarded. They cou'd but stand aud await its drea ded appearance, and Clara prayed fervently that the angel of death might pass over her house. One morning she awoke feeling quite unwell aud Victor summoned a physician at once. He came and pronounced it the dreaded enemy Dilsy.declared her intention of nun siu'Ler chile' herself, stating that she would not trust her with a hired nurse. Oh, the gloom and silence of the streets 1 The angel of death seemed to be poising with outspread wings, hovering over the entire city. In a short time little Clare grew hot and restless, ami Aunt Dilsy put on her cool night dress and put her in her crib. She was too tender a bud, however, to long withstand the ravages of disease, and, while the mother lay unconscious in the hot embrace of the stalking giant, the angels bore the hpirit of her larling child to a brighter world. This blow was too much for Vic. tor. He could not think of the cold grave shutting out her infantile beuanty forever. The world had grown so dark, and the air seemed to be so heavy that he felt like he was cuffoeating. His brain was iu a whirl as he stood, with hi arms folded across his breast, looking sadly down at. thn now empty crib. While standing thus little Ernest drew near to him and lisped, "Papa, where have they carried sister?' Ere he could auswer he reeled and fell, insensible, on the bed. The scourge spreads, and the au thorities have procured more medi cal aid from other cities. AJ1 is bei ing done that can be done. Pale men and weeping women stand with folded hands, powerless to flee, yet not able to mi-et the relentless foe that cuts them dowu as the grass of the field. Faiihful old Dilsy had watched by the bedside of the sick night and day. The next day alter Victor took the. fever Ernest was stricken down, and not a word would Dilsy Npcak except to whisper a lew directions to the uew nurse concerning the medicine the doctor had left. She would shud der to hear the h6arsM roll over the pavement, as it sounded to her im aginative bruin, like the death rat tle, and she would tremble to think how soon it might have to stop a gaiu at their door. One morning Dilsy was bending over Clara's bed, tryiug to find some favorable symptons, when she heard a step near, and, looking up, she exclaimed : 'De Lord be praised: 1 ' 7 here is Mass John !' and, clapping her hands, she went from on? room to another whispering, 'thank de Lord, thank de Lord !' 'Dilsy, when were the family! stricken ?' She told Dr. Russell the begin ning of each one's sickness, as he parsed over from Clara's bedside to that of Victor and thence to Ern est's. 'The crisis will pass with your mistress to-tiight ; watch ber close ly. To-night will tell the story. With the others the disease has not advanced so far. I will watch with j ou to-night.' 'God bless you, Mars Johu- I hab watch dat chile faithful, but when de little one died and Mars Victor and Ernest was took sick I liked to give up. How I is wish for you all dese long dark days-' Night comes dowu aud a death like stillness reigns over the city. A heavy fog has risen ou the river and is creeping up, spreading over the homes of the ufferrrs, while tho burning tapers from the sick chambers send out their feeble light, like a ray of hope, through the gloom and misery of the impenetra ble darkness. Ddsy was fctaudiDg at the foot of Clara's bed. Dr: Rusi soli had jast returned from looking at Victor and Ernest, and as he ap proached her bed Clara opened her eyes. 'Ami dreaming? Ia that yon, John V Dr. Russell glanced qnickly at Dilsy and placed his finger on bia lips. He felt her pulse and said ; 'You are not dreaming, Clara. Be quiet and go to sleep.' 'I will,' she said, with -that gems tleness that had always character ized her in her girlhood. Soon her regular, low breathing deuoled that the crisis had passed Dr. Russell whispered to Dilsy, as he passed her to go to Victor's room, 'Watch her olosely. With good nursing we can save her.' A shade of sadness passed over his face as he leaned over V ctor. The indications were alarming. Uh poignant grief over the death of lit tle Clare had facilitated the disease iu its most malignant form. The c'ortk chimed out Ihe hour of mid night, still there was no change. Day dawned and found Victor Lor raine'a life slowly ebbing away. Dr. Russoll first noted the change, and he did not leave the bedside, but sat with his fingers on Victor's pulse, counting the feeble beats tbat drew him each one nearer to eterni ty. Much would Dr. Russell have gin en to have brought victor Lorraine back to healthy, vigoroas manhood. He had so much to live for bow his dear wife and child wonld miss him. He never felt unkindlv to ward Victor for winning Clara, when she wrote him a irank, open letter telling him that sh could not reciprocate his affection-, as she loved another. To kuow that she was happy, ho was content to live out his days alone. He had devot ed himself exclusively to his profes sion since his seturn home. He preferred remaining on the fine es tate left him by his father, near Clara's old home, practicing in the neighborhood and village, although knowing he could have havrt stood in the front, ranks of his profession in a edy; There was a feeble flutter of the pulse, and Dr. Rus.eW knew tbat Victor Loirai lie's said was with his God. He arose and crentlv lowered his bad and fobed his bauds. On going to Ei nest, hi) found him aleep- ng quietly. Ho theu called DUf to him and bade her keep (Jlara iu ignorance of what had happened ; the shock would be too much for her. Wht a sail return to life and health would be Clara's, her first. and tenderest love had Ween taken! The rosy morn ot lib was over for her. With the coming frost new cases numbered lea; before many weeks the city put on a business air. Men looked hopeful when they were uo longer quarantined and conld ho'd communication with the outside world. The loss of her loved ones retard ed Clara s restoration many weekg. She felt were it Dot for Ernest she could not live. For his sake, who was the image of his father, she would try to take up tbe burden of life again. The doctors advised her to go away ; they thought she would regain her strength and wonted cheerfulness sooner ; Ernest would improve faster. But she was loth to leave her dead. She wauted to te near where they slept. One bright, frosty morning she bad aris en and put on a wrapper of some soft, clinging material, while Di!sy stood back of her chair brushing her hair. 'Honey, les go baek to oar ole home ? De sight ob dat p'ace would put new life in dese ole bones. Les take Ernest and go way from de place we hab so much ti outlet' said Dilsy. Clara's tears flowed afresh when she thought of the sad home-goin. Only one short year ago her father bad died. His maiden sister who had lived with Mr. Nolon Mtioe Clara's marriage, and who still re mained on the estate, i'. biiug o provided in bis will that the noble old borne should revert to his be loved grandson, Ernest Lorraine, when he attaiued his mnjority had written urging Clara to come back Continued to Fourth Page.