Newspapers / The Wilson Mirror (Wilson, … / Sept. 28, 1892, edition 1 / Page 1
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"Our Aim will be, the People's IligJu Maintain Unawea by rower, ana unorioed by Grain. WILSON NORTH CAROLINA, WEDNESDAY, SEPT 28 1892. VOL. 11. NO. 25 MERRY MORSELS. RE aNd radiant BY HENRY B punctuated with and Spiced with Sentime Pungent Points Sweetest ht FLECTIONS LOUNT. wed. to be bound over a mu sing is not ' Loud talking is not alld Man an old book has to keep the piece. The poet who is alway necessarily funny. ; Putting a muzzle on a tooster might -be called a crow bar. : There is a charming elasticity about a girl of eighteen Springs. Veni. vidi, vici," is now translated: she came, she saw, we concu; ed. A good many dougr heads aie still found among the upper crust. "The Wasp" is the nar le of a new novel. We suppose it has a banc end. A bald-headed book-keeper should never try to wipe his pen in his hair. He who would avoid sin must not stand in the doorw ay of temptation. One button on the pants is worth two in the contribution plate on Sunday. It was cur-rently reported Monday that the train had rent a dog In twain. If you stroll through z forest all day you will be sure to sigh for rsst at night. Desire is a tree in leaf flower, and enjoyment is The oldest woman on earth is Aunty Diluvian. She is the sister of Aunt-Tickty One good act to-day and in contemplation time. k hope is a tree in a tree in fruit. is worth a thouo- for some future In the bright lexicon of speculation there is nothing so uncertain as a sure thing. When a man takes seven days' vacation does he do so because cough ? In an angry moment what a whole lifetime of not undo. Hardly any body wou he has a weak- a man ma) do repentance can- j i vuuiu care tu cuaugc place with the turtle, and yet he has a great snap. The new ostler's wife isked him if they were not to take a wedding trip, and he took a bridle to her. Men of genius are oftbn dull and inert in society; as the meteor when it decends to earth is only a stone, we are dull and stupid. The boy who was employed to see that the hens were kept away from the garden congratulated himself tapon possessing a job that was a shoe-er thing. It k suggested that poverty progresses arithmetically. When fa man meets with reverse he advertises His house: "2 Jet." When he is utterly ruiied he advertises it "4 sale." It is only from- those That is the reason them? who have suffered 'elves that we mat expect sympathy distress. A heart h sorrows can sel- or consolation in our that has bled for its ow dom be hardened to another's woe. When there is love in the heart there is eye,- which gives urrounding objects3 enly hues of radi- of earthly care and a bri''iant gleam in tht 'ustrous beauty to all s and tints with its Heav ancethe darkest cloud trouble. Good temper is the fieart ; ra3 -s are reflected on all philosophy of the a gem in the treasury within whose a no.. . . factual sunshine, imparting warmth, and life, to all within the sphere of jr.uence. x-. . . . olng flings so dirine a spell over the jart f humanity as disinterested benefi-pence- Herein istheiower of Jesus and a"l and the heirs of their spirit and deeds "gnthe ages. Flinted ,ieart indeed that 7.; c "ol soitened and mellowed outward objects must be the resist, its sweet by its glorious beamirjgs. Alone With Our Dreaming. The sun has entered the chamber of rest, the. dust of glory that arose in his crimson pathway has drifted away from the ky, and the curtain of night hides in its folds of darkness a tired world, and bids its every care release, and dream alone of heavenly peace. Yes, what a blessed rest, what a soothing spell, what a healing balm, what a peaceful solace is blessed, glorious night. Under its quiet hush the conflicts of the day doth end , and truce its peaceful bless- sings send ; the mind divests itself of care, and fills its chambers with peace most rare; the soul unburdened of its care,lifts itself to God in prayer, and thoughts now fly to realms above where all is peace and all is love. And for hours we have been sitting here in our window, enjoying the peace and this rest and this beauty, for what is more tranquilizing and more beautiful than a magnificent star-lit night, when Heaven itself comes full in sight, and flings upon the bending skies the radiance of its twink ling eyes. And there is nothing more awe inspiring than this clear, calm, serene, tranquil sky, emblazoned as it is now with corruscant and flashing waves of light that are flung off from Heaven's own throbbing ocean of inexhaustible brilliancy. God's magnificent handwriting is witnessed there, and even an atheist, looking up at those grand and dazzling hireroglyphics,is bound to read in their brilliant and faultless group ing the omnipotence of Jehovah, and trem ble with awe at the matchless wonders and splendid beauty of his workmanship. And sitting here watching the stars, and bathing our vision in their glimmering waves of sparkling radiance we have been brought into a sweet and blesred commu nion with the loved, ones who are gone, and we have thus lived over again the hours of the hollo w;ed past. A fit time in deed it is to get memory glances at those loved passengers in that mystic boat, whose voiceless pilot is leading them through the crystal channels of the river of life. And these glorious eyes of Heaven seem to be in perfect accord with" our fitful, moody natures; for when joyous and happy the very stars seem to bend lovingly down in tender watchfulness. But when the heart is sad, the spirit bowed, the world cold, "the fire burned out" on our hearts and hearths,". these samcstars look down with pitying gaze as we raise our eyes in mute appeal for sympathy, and they seem to bid u hope on, and look to Him, and to fel that He, whose creative power brought in to existence this beautiful world, is not un mindful of our happiness, and His ears are still open to our cries, and that he will bless and crown our weary hearts at last with the mercy-woven and love-entwined flow ers of that everlasting peace and happi ness which find their fullest bloom and richest fragrance in the golden sunlight of radiant immortality. And so we have been dreaming to-night "of peaceful rest and blissful scenes amid the blest: we've seen the spot where angels tread, and clasped again our sainted dead. On the star-built ladder of silvery night, we've climbed to that fair world of light, and with our loved ones strolled up there, and sip ped love's nectar sweet and rare. Yes, far from earth we've been to-night, where all was sweet and all was bright; a glorious dream indeed was ours, for we have stroll ed, in Heavenly bowers. That Kiss. Up the perfume cwept avenue of love and under the roseate archway of Hymen they had passed into the joy-lit realm of that higher and holier existence, where soul meets soul on limpid waves of ecsta tic feeling, and hearts touch hearts through the blended channel of lips in rapture linked. They had just been made man and wife, and their souls must meet and "swap a swap" of labial endearment. And now, how can we describe that osculatory performance. It was not a spasmodic kiss, like a stopper flying out of a cham paigne bottle or a suctionary kiss, like a cow pulling her foot out of the mire; and neither was it one' of those long, linger ing, languishing kisses which lovers give when hid by clustering .vines from the glance of the moon beams. No, none of these, but it was, to be alliterative, a kind of a slunchwise, slantindictular, soup sup ping, sop-sipping meeting of the lips, which went tor the whole hog of endear ment or none, . and that is the way two hearts began to beat as one. Home. In these days of unrest attention is largely diverted from the special blessings of home life. Men easily loose sight of the healthful repose, the perfect rest from con flict, which makes the life of home the sweetest symbol of Heaven. Some of the peculiar advantages of our American civi lization are full of very serious dangers. An immense territory, a spirit of adven ture, and love of travel, the unexampled rapidity with which large cities spring from the very wilderness as if by magic, the novelty of all things and the consequent lack of sacred associations which resist change these, and . many other causes, greatly lesson, where they donot entirely destroy, that peculiar feeling which finds its expression in "Home sweet Home!" Nay, even closed furnaces, or radiators, or steampipes are not without a serious effect upon domestir comfort, or at least, do mestic coziness. Compare, for instance, the pathetic longings of the wanderer in Goldsmith's "Deserted Village:" "In all my wanderings round this world of care, In all my griefs and God has given my share I still had hopes, my latest hours to crown, Amidst these humble bowers to lay me down: To husband out life's taper at the close, And keep the flame from wasting by re pose." Here we have it in that exquisitely mu sical verse in which even yet Goldsmith is without a rival : "To keep the flame from wasting by repose." The modern Ameri can is always burning the candle at both ends. "God giveth his beloved sleep," but the young children in an American house sit up late, see company , have their sweet eyes dazzled and their nerves kept quiver ing by brightly-lighted rooms, and eager conversation. Life is robbed of its sweet est charm, its truest refinement,and it is de prived of confidential and unreserved in tercourse with those whom one loves and can trust. Both strength and grace of character, like sturdy trees and fragrant flowers, must have a chance to grow; and growth needs darkness and winter and re pose as well as sunlight and wind and stimulus. Home means rest, familiarity, love, truth, a fruitful waste of time, self forgetfulness, a thousand acts of happy self-sacrifice. It is the true life, the end-jn-itself, for which most everything else is a mere instrument or preparation. It is an old-fashioned doctrine, but none the less true. The real test of what a man verily is, his home life. The man who cares nothing for home, who does nothing to make home happy, who is forever long ing for new faces and new scenes, may not necessarily be vicious; but he is "in a par lous state," and the ready prey for the great enemy of souls. And the wife who cannot make a home may be very beauti ful and very brilliant, "the observed of all observers," the "belle" of her city, the best known name in society ;" but after all she lacks that something, the pearl of great price, without which she comes short of a true womanliness. A Twilight Reflection. Night kissed the young rose, and it bent softly to sleep. Stars gleamed and pure dew drops hung upon its bosom and watch ed its sweet slumbers. Morning came with its dancing breezes and they whisper ed to the young rose and it awoke joyous and smiling. Lightly it swung to and fro in all the loveliness of health and youth ful innocence. Then came the bright sun god, sweeping from the cast, and smote the young rose wish its scorching rays,and it fainted. Deserted and almost heart broken, it dropped to the dust in its loveli ness and dispair. Now the gentle breeze, which had been gambolling over the sea, gushing on the home-bound bark, sweeping over hill and dale, by the neat cottage and still brook turning the old mill, fanning the brow of disease and frisking with the curls of innocent childhood came tripping along on her errand of mercy and love; and when she fondly bathed its head in cool refreshing showers the young rose revived and looked and smiled in gratitude to the kind breeze: but she hurried quick- ly away; singing like the nreeze, ana garn ering fragrance from the drooping flow ers it refreshes and unconsciously reaps a reward in the performance of its offers of kindness. A Cheering Iettcr. Mr. Blount: The Mirror has just been read, of course I enjoyed it as I usu ally do. There is always something good in it, something to make me feel better and brighter, and cares don't seem so hard af ter I have read the comfort always found in your dear paper. If all the people were good and kind like you and said only good things about everybody and let bad things go unsaid this -world would be easier to live and life would be sweeter. My wife likes it, she says, next to her Bible, and she frequently reads a piece in It and says, "That editor is certainly a mighty good man and must be a Christian." Although I don't know you I do judge from your writings which are bcautitul, that there is nothing waspish in your nature ard that you do certainly look at everything on their best side. For that reason your paper brings cheer into every home It en ters, and thus you become a blessing to your readers. I have written too much but as it is all In praise I don't reckon you will grumble at the length rs most people like to be complimented, and I know you are not an exception. Excuse me a per fect stranger to you, for writing this letter, but wife told me to write and let you know how much we thought of the Mirror, and to encourage you in your good work. . "" , . X We thank our kind but unknown friend for the complimentary letter, but candor compels us to say that we are not good, and neither do we possess the other virtues enumerated above. But on the ground of pulchritudinal exquisiteness and Adonis like loveableness we think we would waltz In as a first class "flower garden" with all its accompanying sweetnesses, and particu larly so, since our recent abscess has left such an exquisite beauty mark upon a cheek, where witchery and fascination once found a throne to weave their spell of rapture and enchantment. A Scene. A Precious Spot. With her he swings upon the gate, And views -her form in rapture great. He tells his love in tones most sweet, For in pure bliss their souls do meet. He puts his arm around her waist, And rubs his cheek on her soft face. He feels the throbbing of her heart, And swears from her he'll never part. When all at pnee she makes a squirm "I fear it is some horrid worm, O turn me loose, Oh do, I beg, It's crawling' up my up my- up that portion of the human anatomy which an innate sense of delicacy forbids me to mention but which is absolutely essential for locomotion. " , And with that the meeting' adjourned, the gate rested from its labors, she rushed to the house,and he walked away mutter ing curses upon all creeping things. True- j , Happiness between husband and wife can only be secured by that constant ten derness and care of the parties for each other which are based upon warm and demonstrative love. The heart demands that the man shall not sit reticent, self ab sorbed, and silent in the midst of his fami ly. The woman, who forgets to provide for her husband's tastes and wUhes.renders her home undesirable for him. In a word, ever-present and ever-demonstrative gen tleness must reign, or else the heart starves. Several Origins. What is the origin of motion?" asked a celebrated preacher. "Well there are many origins. A call to come up to have a drink will bring fifty men to their feet in a second, and a spider down a girl's back Is the origin of tome of the livelies motions in the world. Strange. I t's the strangest thing, methinks. That a maiden crimps and prinks Till she wins her beau-ideal of the lads, And then doesn't care a snap If he sees her in a wrap And a womout pair of slippers of her dad's. Some people shudder at the sight of a grave, and shrink away in . horror from those peaceful mounds. But to us a buri al ground is a sweet and predous and com forting spot, and we linger amid its quiet hush, and bathe our feelings in that tweet stream of hallowed sadness which ever flows In lulling ripples over those window less palaces of sleep and rest. Here wc find the sweetest solace; here we find a sure and safe and peaceful rcireat from all the cares and sorrows which billow the ocean of human experience, for once with-. In this precinct we feel so far removed from all the sordid influences of the world, and our thoughts are stretching so far Heavenward that we hear no longer the storms and whirlwinds of earthly conflict and commotions and for a time at least the wildest throbbings of the fiercest hu man passions feel the spirit presence of the angel of peace, and they too find burial In that blessed calm which ever breathes its requiem to the dead. And for that reason we love to stroll amid these hallowed mounds, and feel that it Is here the old life with all Its scars and its bruises and Its hurts and pains, has ended, and that the new life, with its beauty and its brightness and its glorified rapture, has begun to bask in the flood light of eternal day, and float on waves of immortality. Yes, the grave Is the meeting place of earth and Heaven, and here indeed we find those sweet and precious links of memory which hold us in such blessed communion with the loved ones gone. Slander. Against slander there is no defense. Hell cannot boast of so foul a fiend, nor man deplore so foul a foe. It stabs with a smile; it is a pestilence walking in dark ness, spreading contagion far and wide, which the most wary traveler cannot avoid. It is the heart searching dagger of the as sassin. It is the poisoned arrow Whose wound is Incurable. It is as fatal as the most deadly asp. Murder is the employ ment; innocence Its prey, and ruin its sport. ' lie Was. t Are you at all aesthetic in jour tastes?" she asked, in a sprightly manner, as she moved towards the piano, "Well, a little," he answered. "Iam aesthetically to the extent of having an admiration for unsung songs," There Is now a deep gulf between them which nothing can bridge. Hear Both. Never condemn your neighbor unheard, however many the accusations preferred against him; every story has two ways of being told, and justice requires that you should hear the defence as well as the ac cusation, and remember that the malignity of enemies may place you In a similar position. Ana She Rested. Come rest on this shirt front, My own stricken dear, And srrrear it all over With greese from thy hair. Here still is the shirt Which you smeared up last night I'll not have it washed Till it's dirtied up quite. Named Himself. "Some idiot has put my pen where I can't find it," growled Asperity this morn ing as he rooted about his desk. Ah, aw es; I thought so," he added in a milder tone, as' he hauled the writing utinsll from out behind his ear. Not Built That Way. A girl may be both false and fickle And change her mind every day, But you can't get her to ride a bicycle For she aint built that way.
The Wilson Mirror (Wilson, N.C.)
Standardized title groups preceding, succeeding, and alternate titles together.
Sept. 28, 1892, edition 1
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