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THE NATIONAL REPUBLICAN PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY FREDERICK T. WALSER, EDITOR AND PROPRIETOR. TERMS; TWO DOLLARS PER ANNUM, INVARIABLY IN ADVANCE, ONE DOLLAR FOR SIX MONTHS. THREE MONTHS FOR FIFTY CENTS. JET Deductions Made for Clubs. QEVOTEQ TO TOLITLOiS fljJ^) GE^E^L JJEWB. VOL. I. , WINSTON, N. C., WEDNESDAY, JUNE 5, 1872. NO. 22. THE NATIONAL REPUBLICAN. ADVERTISING RATES: One square, one time $1.00 One square, two times 1.25 One square, three times 1.50 A square is the width of a column and one inch deep. Liberal inducements offered for contract Advertisements. Antony and Cleopatra. I am dying, Egypt, dying, Ebbs the crimson life-tide fast, And the dark Plutonian shallows Gather on. the evening blast; Let tbine arms,.© Queen! support mo, Hush thy sobs and bow thine ear, Hearken unto the great secrets Ilion, and thou alone must hear. Though my scarred and veteran legions Bear their eagles high no more, And my wrecked and scattered galleys Strew dark Actium’s fatal shore— Though no glittering guards surround me, Prompt to do their master’s will— I must perish like a Roman, Die the great Triumvir still. Let no Ctesar’s servile minions Mock the lion thus laid low ; ’Twas no foeman’s hand that slew him, ’Twas himself that struck the blow. Hear then, pillowed on thy bosom, Ere his star fades quite away, Him, who, drunk with thy caresses, Madly threw a world away. Should the base plebeian rabble Dare assail my fame at Rome, Where the noble sp®use Octavia Weeps within her widowed home, Seek her—say the gods have told me— Altars, augurs, circling wings— That her blood with mine commingled, Yet shaiLmount the throne of kings. And for thee, star-eyed Egyptian, Glorious sorceress of the Nile, Light the path to Stygian horrors With the splendors of thy smile : Give this Cassar crowns and arches, Let his brow the laurel twine, I can scorn the Senate’s triumphs, Triumphing in love like thine. ■ I am dying, Egypt, dying, Hark th’ insulting foeman’s cry I They are coming—quick! my falchion, Let me front them ere I die, Ah! no more amid the battle Shall my heart exulting swell; Isis and Osiris guard thee Cleopatra—Rome—farewell. THE BROKEN PLEDGE. The following story which has a good moral, was writ ten by a little girl of fourteen years, daughter of the late Rev. Eugene Hicks who was Pastor of the Universalists Church at Lowell at the time of his death. The story will compere favorably and is superior to many written by “older heads,” and published in many of our first class magazines.—Ad. Nunda News. Blanche Haughton, was standing longer than usual before her toilet-glass one eve ning, and the face and form therein re flected were fair indeed,for Blanche was a beauty in one sense, and in another—well the sequel will prove. It was the event ful eve of the grand party of the season; Miss Haughton had called her maid an hour before her usual time, and now she stood before the glass, as pretty a picture as one could wish to see, thelight flashing in her large black eye-; as she saw and re alized her peerless beauty; her dark bail- falling in waving curls from her fair brow and the hue of her cheeks glowing like roses in the sunlight. “ Yes I must look my very best to- night, perhaps Frank Lawrence can see the difference, between May Hunt, with her yellow curls, blue eyes, and half simpering ways, and Blanche Haughton, I have said I would have my revenge and I will. So Master Frank you have signed the ‘Pledge’ have you ? because of May, and you’ll never touch the wine cup again! we’ll see how long your, good resolves last;” and the spoiled beauty, giving one more look at the reflectien in her mirror swept haughtily away. It was at the home of Blanche that the party were gathering and the gaslight, shone brightly on fair forms, and faces with not a thought of care. Standing near one of the windows, engaged in con versation, were a young lady and gentle man.; he was a tall, handsome young man with clear, brown eyes and curling hair, while his companion was a petite, little lady, with fair hair and large, blue eyes. They were watching the guests, as they came with their merry laughter, and pleasurable anticipations, when suddenly the lady said. “ Frank have you seen Blanche Haugh ton to-night? I always thought her beauti ful,but this evening she surpasses herself.” “ Yes I have seen her May,” replied the young man, “she is very handsome, but her beauty is nothing to me now, if it was ®nce ; ” and the loving glance he gave fail- May was enough to verify his words. The hours sped by as swiftly as the feet of the merry dancers. Tired at last oftrip- ping the “light fantastic toe,” Frank Lawrence had wandered to the window where he and May Hunt so lately stood together: busy with hisown thoughts, he did not hear the light footstep, or know that any one was near, till he felt a soft touch on his shoulder, and a sweet voice saying. • “ You look lonely Mr., Lawrence”—he turned with a start, to see Blanche Haugh ton, her cheek glowing and eyes spark- line with the excitement of the evening.— “ Why are you not with the dancers?” she continued; I have looked for you all the evening, and now I find you standing so lonely here by the window gazing at the stars, a penny for your thoughts sir.” “Thank you for your kindness Miss Blanche, but if you think me lonely, you are much mistaken, for the stars and my thoughts are good companions, and now that vox have come, what more could I wish,” and he gave an admiring glance at the fascinating girl. The long lashes drooped on Blanche’s fair cheek—for she was well versed in.the art of coquetry—as she replied.” “I cannot keep your company long, for I hear a call for Blanche,” and she was moving away,when Frank called her back, saying. “ May I not have the pleasure of tak ing you to supper?” Blanche bowed her head in assent and merrily joined the com panions she had left. Frank Lawrence went to the supper- table, fully resolved not to' touch a drop of wine, and when it was passed,he shook his head with a determined gesture say ing. “A glass of cold water for me, please.” Blanche Haughton knew her time, she was then holding the glass to thelight and watching the “bead” as it floated to the brim; turning to her com panion in winning tones she said. “Is not that beautiful, will you not drink with me once tonight Frank, just once, I will only ask that, I hear you have signed the “Pledge,” but what hurt to just taste of this, look, see how lovingly the light lingers through it?”and again she held the goblet up. The voice of the tempter whispered the same in his ear; c ‘ what hurt will a little do?” he yielded and lifted the goblet for a little taste, but that little was too much ; the cup was empty when he set it down, saying, “that was well worth trying.” A smile of triumph curled Blanche Haugh ton’s lip,as she heard the words sheknew were the beginning of her longed for re venge; Ah, poor Frank ! that glass was not his last. Some of his friends carried his senseless form home to his mother that evening, and if Blanche Haughton could have seen the tears that rained down her pallid cheek as she watched over her drunken son, she might have thought her revenge fell on the innocent also; if she could have seen the anguish of gentle May as she saw her lover, so manly and hand- some, a few hours before, so full of buoy ant hopes, and plans for the future, car ried home inebriated, perhaps the joy that filled her heart, might have lost some of its gratification, but she did not see this, and only thought of her triumph. But beware and remember,fair, false one, that “pride goeth before destruction and a haughty spirit before a fall.” Why was it that the spoiled beauty wished her re venge? simply this, she had loved Frank Lawrence, and thought her passion re turned, but when May Hunt was found to be her rival, her heart was filled with jealousy, knowing his weakness and also that he had signed the “ Pledge,” she thought if she could not win his love there would be some pleasure in knowing him lost to May; she little cared for the sor row of his mother whose idol he was, and when she heard of her death, did not think she was half the cause of it. Hardly had the events of the grand party ceased to be tasked of, when the news, came, that Mr. Haughton, the rich banker, “ had failed;” he had nothing left him, every-thing was swept away. Proud in spirit he could ill brook the cold stare, from those he once called his friends; he died leaving Blanche and her mother to battle alone with the world. Never healthy and long used to every form of luxury, Mrs Haughton soon followed her husband to the grave, and Blanche found herself alone in the great city, with noth ing but her own hands to depend upon. What a change, from the belle of a fash ionable ball room,courted and flattered by all, to the living reality of her utter lone liness; those whom she but a short time before termed friends, now passed her coldly, as'though she were the veriest beggar in the streets. One evening after a fruitless endeavor to find work, she sat alone by her scanty fire, sorrowfully thinking of the past, and the change in her life, when a slight tap on the door, broke the silence of her lit tle room; rising to open it with trembling fingers, Blanche lifted the latch, when who but the former, hated rival, May Hunt should stand before her; Blanche was thoroughly humbled now and the sight of a friendly face, was what she wished. May told her that sh©/had search ed all over the city'for her, and listened with tears in her eyes to the recital of Blanche’s troubles, and when Blanche begged her forgiveness for the wrong she had done, May readily forgave her, al though it cost a bitter heart pang. It was a clear, bright day in winter, the sunlight shone brightly through the win dow, on one of the poorest streets of the city, it lingered lovingly over two kneel ing forms there, touching the brown and the golden curls with a halo of light, and shining on the pallid features of the corpse, lying on the little pallet-bed, by which the mourners (for such they were) knelt, twining their arms about one anoth er; one spoke, saying.” “Oh May how can you, ever forgive me;” and burst into a passionate fit of weeping. The corpse on which the sun shone so brightly, was none other than Frank Law rence, and the mourners were, Blanche Haughton and May Hunt. From that eve ning, when he yielded to the voice of the tempter, his course had been downward, and none who saw his haggard face, blood shot eyes, and staggering steps, would have thought it was the handsome, manly Frank Lawrence, of a few months before. Now he was dead, dead in the pride of his manhood, dead in the flushing hours of his life, killed by the demon that has killed many a young man, ere he learned the paths trod by the temperate and vir tuous ; now the bright, winter sunshine shone o’er his pale corpse, as brightly as on the busy people in the street below, who passed by, little heeding, or knowing, the sorrow so near them. Then and Now.—Eleven years ago a good article of flour was sold for $5.20 per barrel (at wholesale). The same ar ticle to-day sells for $6.25. The highest price reached for the same brand was in 1867, when it sold for $10.70. In 1870 the same brand was worth only $4.90. In 1861 yellow corn was worth 67 cents per bushel; in 1867, $1.40 ; in 1872, 8 4 cents. Anthracite coal in 1861, by the cargo, $4.75 per ton. It reached its high est point in 1865, selling for $10 ; and now sells at $4.25, delivered on board vessel, say, at Elizabethport, N. J. In 1861 middling upland cotton was worth 13 3-4 cents per pound ; in 1864, 83 cents per pound ; in 1870, 23| cents ; to-day, 23 3-4 cents. New Orleans molasses, which sells to-day for 70 cents per gal lon, was worth 32 cents in 1861, and $1.- 10 in 1865. Mess pork is $4.12 cheaper per barrel now than it was eleven years ago ; good butter costs twice as much as then, and sugar is just double; teas from 5 to 35 cents more per pound, depending upon the kinds. In 1861 summer wool was quoted at 32 cents per pound, and 70 cents in 1864; the price is the same now, the lowest figures reached in the intervening period, being 44 cents in 1870. Pulled No. 1 wool was worth 23 cents in 1861; it is now quoted at 63 cents ; a year ago it was 28 cents.—Bos ton Globe. The Treaty.—The Washington Treaty is dead, and the fact is so officially stated in London, that there seems to be no longer any possibility of saving anything of the remains. With it must fail not only the arbitration of Geneva about the Alabama claims, but also the arbitration about San Juan by the Emperor of Ger many, the arbitration at Washington to settle British claims against the United States, and the settlement of tha^long- standing dispute concerning the sea coast fisheries.—M. Y. Paper. Gas.—In 1792 Mr. William Murdoch first used gas for lighting his offices and house in Redruth, Cornwall. The Bir mingham manufacturers at once adopted the invention. A Deserted Church. Westmoreland County, the birthplace of Washington, Madison, Monroe, and Marshall, called “the Athens of Virgi nia,” was the most polite and wealthy region of Virgina when Thomas Jeffer son was a young lawyer.. In thirty years it became waste and desolate. A picket- guard, in 1813, posted on the Potomac to watch for the expected British fleet, were seeking one day a place to encamp, when they came upon an old church the condition of which revealed at once the completeness and the recentness of the ruin. It stood in a lonely dell, where the silence was broken only by the breeze whispering through the pines and cedars and dense shrubbery that closed the en trance. Huge oaks standing near the walls enveloped the roof with their long, intei-lacing branches. The doors all stood wide open ; the windows were bro ken ; the roof was rotten and had partly fallen in ; and a giant pine, uprooted by a tempest, was lying against the front, choking up the principal door. The churchyard, which was extensive, and enclosed by a high brick wall of costly structure, was densely covered all over with tombstones and monuments, many of which, though they bore names once held in honor throughout Virginia, were broken to pieces or prostrate, with bram bles and woods growing thick and tangled between them everywhere. The parish had been important enough to have a separate building for a vestry just out side the churchyard wall. This had rot ted away from its chimney, which stood erect in a mass of ruin. With some difficulty the soldiers forced their way through the fine old porch be tween massive doors into the church. What a picture of desolation was dis closed ! The roof, rotted away at the corners, had let in for years the snow and rain, staining and spoiling the in terior. The galleries, where, in the olden time, the grandees of the parish sat, in their square, high pews, were sloping and leaning down upon the pews on the floor, and, on one side, had quite fallen out. The remain's of the great Bible still lay open on the desk, and the tattered canvas that hung from the walls showed traces of the Creed and Commandments which had once been written upon it. The marble font was gone; it was a punch-bowl, the commander of the picket was told. The communion-table, which had been a superb piece of work of antique pattern, with a heavy walnut top, was in its place, but roughened and stained by exposure. It was afterwards used as a chopping-block. The brick aisles showed that the church was the resort of animals, and the wooden ceil ing was alive with squirrels and snakes. The few inhabitants of the vicinity— white trash—held the old church and its wilderness of graves in dread, and scarce ly dared enter the tangled dell in which they were. It was only the runaway slave, overcome by a greater terror, fly ing from a being more awful that any ghost—savage man—that ventured to go into the church itself, and crouch among the broken pews.—James Parton. A Co-operative Plan for Farmers. —We quote the following from an ad dress delivered by Mr. H. L. Jones, be fore the Farmers’ Club of Walnut Creek, Saline Co., Kansas, in which State the subject of co-operation continues to be agitated, with what result remains to be seen : “I will suppose there are in Sa line county 2,000 farmers who raise an nually 500,000 bushels of wheat, which amount will probably soon be reached and excelled. Now, by the present pro cess of marketing, fully 20 per cent., or 100,000 bushels, are lost to the farmer, and go to make up the wealth and prof its of the middlemen. How to save this is the question. I would have a joint capital formed of $200,000, made up in shares of $50 each, making an average of two shares to each farmer, and only twice as much as the annual loss on wheat alone. With this money I would have built an elevator and store, at a cost of, say $100,000, leaving $100,000 as capital to do business with. I would have this money used in the foundation of a bank, especially and only, in the interest of the farmers who were mem bers of the association. I would have it under the control of directors elected annually by the farmers, and their duties' limited and prescribed -by law. I have a place where farmers could deposit their funds and secure a fair interest, and also where they could borrow by paying no higher rate of interest then 10 per cent, per annum, in such manner as should be prescribed by the rules of the associa tion. I would have it a rule that his shares should be deemed good collateral security for two-thirds their value, and that a warehouse receipt of 100 bushels of wheat should also be good collateral for a loan of one-half its value for a limited time. Storage on grain should be fixed at the lowest possible rate to pay expenses, which will not exceed 1J per cent. An Advertising Suit.—In the Su preme Court of the county of Monmouth, N. J., a suit for over $17,000 was com menced against the great buchu man, by Hudson & Menet, advertising agents, of New York. In June, 1870, the Doctor made two large contracts with the plain tiffs; in one of which it was agreed to print the Doctor’s advertisement, a col umn in length, in one hundred and fifty papers in the Territories of the West and the Sandwich Islands. In.the sec ond, to publish one of equal length in 1,200 newspapers in various States. Each of these advertisements to be inserted fifty-two times in the papers mentioned. The amount to be paid on these contracts was over $50,000. Dr. Helmbold be coming unable to pay before the close, they were discontinued, and a bill for some $34,000 rendered, on which there had been paid $17,000. For the balance of this bill suit was brought. The pros ecution was begun in this court because the Doctor has considerable property in the county on which they hope to exe cute. The plaintiffs obtained judgment for the full amount claimed. Not Ready for War.—Now that Ba- zaine is about to be tried for surrender ing Metz during the Franco-German war, his views of the discipline of the armies he commanded are interesting. The once popular marshal emphatically states that France was not ready for an aggressive war, and that the enthusiasm of the hour could not overcome the ter rible and modern engines of war which Germany brought to bear against them. A Burning Ship. Oh, that sight! can I ever forget it ? The fire was spurtingfrom every crevice of the black hull, her great mainmast gone,,the mizzen mast lying with several great white sails surging about in the water, and she was dragging it along with her.. The foremast only stood, and its rigging and sails had not yet caught. A dead silence had succeeded now to the commotion in the vessel; men were standing stock still, perhaps waiting for their orders, and my uncle’s were the only eyes that were not strained to follow the leaping and dazzling spires in their career. Every moment w$ approached. Now the first waft of the smoke came in our faces, now we coul iiear a cracking and rending, the crer Ind shiver, and the peculiar rearing noise mode by a master ing fire. “A full-rigged snip,” I heard Brand whisper to his wife. ■ “Eleven hundred tons at the least.” . “ Merciful heavens,!” she whispered in reply. “I hope she won’t blow up. Anyhow, I thank the Lord that we’ve got Master in command himself.” I never saw anything like the horrible beauty of that red light. It added tenfold to the terror of the scene to see her coming on so majestically, dragging with her broken spars and great yards and sprawl ing sails. She lookedlike some splendid live creature in distress, and rocked now a good deal in the water, for every mo ment the wind seemed to rise, biinging up a long swell with it The moon went down, and in a few minutes the majestic ship supplied all the light to the dark sky and black water. I saw the two little dark boats nearing her, knew that my brother was in the fore most, and shook with fear, and cried to God to take care of him ; but while! and all gazed in awful silence on the sailing ship, the flames burst through the deck in a new place, climbed up the fore rigging, and in one single leap, as if they had been living things, they were licking the sails off the ropes, and, shooting higher than her topsails, they spread themselves out like quivering fans. I saw every sail that was left in an instant bathed in flames ; a second burst came raging up from below, blackening and shriveling everything before it; then I saw the weltering fire run down again, and still the wreck, plunging her bows in the water, came rocking and reeling on and on. “ How near does our old man mean to go ?” whispered Mrs, Brand ; and almost at thaf instant I observed that he had given some order to the man at the helm, and I could distinctly hear a murmur of satisfaction; then almost directly a cry of horror arose—we were very near her, and while the water hissed with strange distinction, and steamed in her wake, her blazing foremast fell over the side, plunging' with a UeV.cnd v.s4 crash into the sea, sending up dangerous showers of sparks and burning bits of sail-cloth, and covering our decks with falling tin der. The black water took in and quenched all that blazing tophamper, and still the awful hissing was audible, till suddenly, as we seemed to be sheering off from her, there was a thunderous roll that sounded like the breaking of her mighty heart, and still glorious in beauty she plunged head foremost, and went down blazing into the desolate sea. In one instant that raging glow and all the fierce illumination of the fire was gone ; darkness had settled on the face of the deep. I saw a few lighted sparks floating about, that was all ; and I smelt the fire and felt the hot smoke rushing past my face as the only evidence. that this was not a dream.—From off the Skelligs, by Jean Ingelow. A Little Too Vigilant.—There is a man in Derby, Pa , who purchased a bulldog, which he proposed to turn loose in his store at night in order to scare away the burglars. The first evening after he obtained possession of the ani mal, he locked it in the store and went away a happy man. The next morning, early, he went round to the store and unlocked the door. The deg was vigi lant—the man was surprised to see how very exceedingly diligent that dog was —for no sooner was the door opened than the dog seized its owner by the leg, suddenly, and seemed to be ani mated by an earnest and vigorous reso lution not to let go until it had removed at least one good mouthful. And the man pushed the dog back and shut the door on its ribs until the animal relaxed its jaws, and then the man kicked the dog into the store and shut the door as if he was in a hurry to do something. Then he suspended business for a week, and spent the vacation firing at that dog through the windows and down tho chimneys and up through 'he cellar ceil ing, with a shot gun, trying to extermi nate him. And that mercantile estab lishment did not open for trade until the man had paid twice the first cost of the dog to the dog’s former owner to come and take it home; and then, when he got in, he found that during the bombardment holes had been shot through mackeral barrels and molasses cans, and coal oil kegs, so that there was misery and ruin everywhere, Dogs have nomore charms for this man. Gardening.—I would recommend to every, man, especially in the autumn of his life, to take to gardening, if he has not already experienced its pleasures. Of all occupations in the world it is the one which best combines repose and ac tivity. It is not idleness ; it is not stag nation ; and yet it is perfect quietude. Like all things mortal it has its failures and its disappointments, and there are some things hard to understand. But it is never without its rewards, and per haps if there were nothing but success ful cultivation, the aggregate enjoyment would be less. It is better for the oc casional shadows that come over the scene. The discipline, too, is most sal utary. It tries our patience and it tries our faith. But even in the worst of sea sons there is far more to reward and en courage than to dishearten and disap point. There is no day in the year without something to afford tranquil pleasure to the cultivator of flowers, something on which the mind may rest with profit and delight.—Cornhill Maga zine. A shrewd old lady compares her hus band to a tallow candle : he always sput ters and smokes when he’s- put out. Varieties in Fashions. Some of the newly imported batiste costumes are making their appearance in fragmentary state, says a New York fashion journal, being used as frills and flouncings upon costumes of silk. They are so cuningly combined with the silk, that one cannot cry out against the in novation, and especially not when the furore seems universally to be for nov elty. Dolly Varden is rushing headlong to her fate. A fresh dress exhibited in the shops, is a percale of untold colors, with a bordering still more brilliant, and a fringe combining all the shades. An other novelty in this department of ma terials is a D. V. costume with a deep ecru plaiting on a ground of bright chintz, the parasol being made to match the dress. Guipure laces of the-same shade as the dress material are among the novel- ties of trimming, and a great deal of white silk guipure is appropriated also. This, however, is never seen in the street, though very dressy toilettes for carriage-visiting and receptions, are of black silk trimmed with black lace over white. Parasols .of plum-blue, almost black, are very rich, are among the favorites of the season These have bamboo handles, with carved tops of ivory or bone. Beautiful polonaises of crepeline of white, buff, and the softe/tints of ecru brown, are being made to wear over half- worn skirts of black silk. These are trimmed with plisses of silk or with bias folds of the material, bordering with a deep fine fringe resembling that on Can- ton crape shawls. Some very graceful toilettes for spring are of tamise cloth, trimmed with alter nate folds of plisses of the tamise, and a light quality of black silk. These cos tumes are readily adapted to the street by adding a little fichu cape correspond ing to the dress, such capes being very becoming to slight figures. Jet begins to mark many of the im ported trimmings, and is particularly conspicuous on costumes intended for half-mourning. On imported dresses, many of the richest trimming exhibit jets, always of the small cut bead kind ; and ornaments for out-door costumes, are brilliant with fine jets in passemen teries. Very dressy polonaises, made with al ternate length-wide rows of French em broidery and Valenciennes lace, are be ing prepared for summer wearing. Over silk bodies these are showy, but by no means economical, as nobody but a pro fessional can do the laundry work upon toilettes so elaborate, and so full of seams to be straightened in the most careful manner. The greenish gray material seen in the shops, and called “natural flax,” is honored with much labor to bring it ;out. l,ts best trimming is a guipure lace, corresponding as nearas may be to the shade, but very dressy costumes are pro cured by branding upon it *with the Grover machine, when the work re sembles the imported tambour embroid ery seen upon expensive toilettes of batiste. ^A few ladies are affecting house shoes of the shape of the “ croquet shoe,” but matching the dress in color. These button up at the side, after the manner of a walking shoe, curtailed, but are not an improvement on anything previously introduced. Some of the handsomest robes to be taken to the sea shore, where damps and fogs will intrude, are of fine white flannel, beautifully embroidered or braid ed with shaded colors, or in solid blue, scarlet or lavender. For young ladies, these are made in polonaise shape, and, for whomsoever it may concern, they are lady-like, promising not a little be sides as to comfort. Stephen Allen’s Pocket Piece. In the pocketbook of Hon. Stephen Allen, who was drowned on board the Henry Clay, was found a printed slip' apparently cut from a newspaper, of which the following is a copy. It is worthy to be put in every newspaper and engraved on every young man’s heart: Make few promises. Always speak the truth. Never speak evil of any one. Keep good company or none. Live up to your engagements. Never play at anygame of chance. Drink no kind of intoxicating liquors. Good character is above all things else. Keep your own secrets, if you have any. Never borrow if you can possibly help it. Do not marry until you are able to support a wife. Keep yourself innocent if you would be happy. When you speak to a person look him in the face. Make no haste to be rich if you would prosper. Ever live (misfortune excepted) within your income. Save when you are young to spend when you are old. Avoid temptation, through fear you may not withstand it. Never run into debt unless you see" a way to get out again. Small and steady gains give compe tency with a tranquil mind. Good company and good conversation are the sinews of virtue. Your character cannot be essentially injured except by your own acts. If any one speaks evil of you, let your life be so that no one will believe him. When you retire to bed, think over what you have been doing during the day. Never be idle ; if your hands can’t be employed usefully, attend to the culti vation of your mind. Read over the above maxims carefully and thoroughly at least once every week. Lace.—In manufacturing filie finest kinds of Brussels lace, the thread used is of exquisite fineness, and is spun in dark underground rooms, where the air is sufficiently moist to prevent the thread from separating. It is so delicate as scarcelely to be seen, and the rooms are so arranged that all fee light admitted shall fall upon the work. It is such ma terial that renders the genuine Brussels ground so costly. On a piece of Valen ciennes not two inches wide, from two to thrfee hundred bobbins are sometimes used, and for a larger width, as many as eight hundred on the same pillow. A West Virginia Doctor. The major presented me to Doctor Didiwick, a red-headed, stuttering eccen tric individual, who was going up toward Yeokem’s on a professional tour, and would ride with us. This was fortunate, as the road we contemplated traveling was very obscure and difficult, and the country not an agreeable one to get lost in. The doctor also counseled us to pro vide against all contingencies on to-mor row’s journey; so we ordered our hostess to have prepared a ham, a sack of bis cuit, and some bottles of cold tea—this last, by the way, a most excellent bever age for wayfaring people. After supper, hearing a mighty and continuous thumping in the direction of the kitchen, 1 thought it advisable to look in and give some special directions about the biscuit, which should be well beaten and thoroughly baked to prevent their getting mouldy. Opening a door, I stepped out on the back porch, and to my astonishment, caught the doctor pelting and pounding at a bach of dough. The dough looked rather dark, to be sure, and the doctor slightly embarrassed; but, not to be cer emonious, I said,—“ Really doctor, this is very considerate in you to make the biscuits for us yourself.” “ What b-b-b-biscuit?” he stuttered surprised and offended. “Go to the c-c-c-cook. I’m making blue-pills for mj patients to-morrow.” “In the name of JEsculapius, how many do you make at a time ?” “Oh,” said he, “a p-p-p peck, more or less. Practice in these jnountains is different from your city practice. I make my rounds only once a month, and it takes a week’s riding through, so that I have to provision a whole district to last until I come again.” In the morning we were on the road betimes, all in fine spirits except Cock ney, who was not a little sore from yes terday’s ride, but did his best not to mind it. The country was wild and rugged enough, but more populous than we had imagined. The doctor called at every house, and at his familiar halloo all the inmates, from the hobbling cen tenarian to the toddling yearling, flocked out to greet him. He inquired after their welfare, physical and moral, in a kind and fatherly manner, naming such as had been ailing at his last visit. Hav ing audited all their complaints, he would leave one or two teacupfuls of pills and ride on. Sometimes he took the trouble to dismount and enter the cabin of some bedridden patient; at oth ers he would inquire concerning a family living far back in the woods, and leave a measure of pills to be sent over next Sunday. Occasionally he had the luck to meet a customer on the road, and de livered his monthly allowance on the spot. The doctor wasevidently honored and beloved by the whole country, and- consulted on all questions that arose, in law, agriculture, or politics. He was a sturdy Democrat, and dispensed gratui- tious opinions on this subject as freely as he did his blue-pills. He stuttered sar castically against medical quacks, and thought the laws were not sufficiently severe against them. Some years ago a so-called herb doctor came poaching upon his domain, and was a great grief of mind to him. The fellow was civil and wouldn’t quarrel, but secretly un dermined the regular practitioner, was getting all his patients, and ruining the health of the district. The interloper had two weaknesses— he was fond of backgammon and hated snakes. Didiwick cared no more for snakes than he did for fishing worms, so he took all apportunities to bedevil his rival with practical jokes in which ser pents played a leading part. One day he challenged the herb doc tor to a game of backgammon. Pleased with the unusual civility, he accepted, and seated himself at the table where the box lay closed before him. The tavern loungers, aware that something was up, gathered round to witness the game. “Set the board, doctor,” said Didi wick, “while I go to order two juleps.” _ The doctor opened the board, and a six foot black snake leaped out into his face. He fled, and returned no more. “And so I got rid of the cussed hum- bug before he killed off my whole dis trict.”—Harper's for May. Old Malds.—I love an old maid. I do not speak of an individual, but of the species ; I use the singular number as speaking of a singularity in humanity. An old maid is not merely an antiquary —she is an antiquity ; not merely a re cord of the past, but the very past itself. She has escaped a great change, and sym pathizes not in the ordinary mutations of mortality. She inhabits a little eternity of her own. She is “ Miss” from the beginning of the'chapter to the end. I do not like to hear her called mistress, as is sometimes the practice, for that looks and sounds like the resignation of despair—a voluntary extinction of hope. I do not know whether marriages ar^ made in heaven ; some people say they are ; but I am almost sure that old maids are. There is a something about them which is not of the earth, earthy. They are spectators of the world, not adven turers and ramblers ; perhaps guardians ; we say nothing of tattlers. They are evidently predestinated to be what they are. They owe not the singularity of their condition to any lack of beauty, wisdom, wit or good temper ; there is no accounting for it but on the principle of fatality. I have known many old maids, and of them all not one that has not pos sessed as many good and amiable quali ties as ninety-nine out of a hundred of my married acquaintances. Why, then, are they single. Wool.—The statistics of wool growing for the last ten years in the United States show some curious fluctuations. In 1861 the home production of wool was esti mated at 55,000,000 pounds; in 1868 it was 155,000,000 pounds; in 1871 it fell to 128,000,000 pounds, the smallest pro duct since 1865. Facts and Fancies. A student defines flirtation to be “ at tention without intention.” Old maids are fond of pairs, but cannot bear any reference to dates. A North Carolina woman was buried in a feather bed, according to her desire. An Illinois newspaper has suffered from three libel suits to the amount of 35 cents. Out West they call a bride a “pecul niary compliment,” and say no more about it. The sleeveless jackets take precedence of all other styles of out-door garments this season. “ Playing Texas on ’em” is the Ala bama vernacular for the final disposition of horse thieves. When should a dairy-man use the let- er e in place of u ? When he wants to make butter better. A popular doctor in Owego gives pre scriptions with directions to “take one teaspoonful every three years. A Western editor, in writing the obit uary of a respectable citizen, says “that he has gone to that undiscovered burn.” Mary had a little lamb, She had it in the garden, And every time it wagged its tail, It spoilt her Dolly Varden. An exchange has found out when Adam was married. Of course it was on his wedding Eve ; most everybody knew it before. “The prisoner has a very smooth countenance;” “Yes; he was ironed just before he was brought in. That accounts for it.” Sleeves for out-door garments are mae with three crescent-shaped cuffs pointing towards the hand, and fastened together by a large silk bow. Fish aie so thick in Clear Lake, Sono ma, Cal., that a veracious citizen says “ it is only necessary to wade in and choose your fish, the difficulty being which fish to choose.” Several people who have answered an advertisement promising a “correct likeness of yourself, and your fortune told,” for fifty cents, have received a three-cent mirror, and informed that they can tell their own fortunes by count ing their money. An epitaph on a North Carolina mule is as follows : Hero lies a mule, blind as a bat, The more corn you’d give him, the less he’d grow fat; He belonged to the bummers of old Bill Sher man, And mules like this we all say durn ’em. There is a Methodist church which stands on the boundary line between Ohio and Pennsylvania, in such a way that the pulpit is in the former State and the pews in the latter. A Pennsylvania paper thereupon takes occasion to state that while the hearers are in one State the preacher is in another State discours ing on the future State. Death of Richard III. Richard received wounds enough at Bosworth to let out a hundred lives. His crown had been struck off at the beginning of the onset; his armor was so broken and his features were so de.- faced that he was hardly to be recog nized when, dragged from beneath a heap of slain— “ His bands still strained the broken brand, His arms-were smeared with blood and sand, Dragged from among the horses’ feet; With dinted shield and helmet beat, The falcon crest and plumage gone— Can that be haughty Marmion?” And can that stripped and mutilated corpse be the crowned monarch who at the morning’s rise led a gallant army to an assured victory—who had recently been described by a distinguished for eigner (Philip de Commines) as holding the proudest position ever held by a King of England for a hundred years? Nothing places in a stronger light the depth of degradation and insensibility, fast verging towards barbarism, to which men’s minds had been sunk by the mul tiplied butcheries of terrible conflicts than the indignities heaped upon the dead King, with the sanction, if not by the express orders of his usurper. The body, perfectly naked, with a rope round the neck, was flung across a horse like the carcase of a calf, behind a pursui vant at-arms bearing a silver boar upon his coat, and was thus carried in triumph to Leicester. It was exposed two days in the town-hall, and then buried with out ceremony in the Gray Friar’s church. At the destruction of the religious homes the remains were thrown out, and the coffin, which was of stone, was converted into a watering-trough at the White Horse Inn. The best intelligence that Mr. Hutton, who made a journey on purpose in 1758, could collect concern ing it, was that the trough was broken up about the latter end of the reign of George I., and that some of the pieces had been placed on steps in a cellar of the inn. “To what base uses we may return, Horatio!” The sign of the White Boar at Leicester, at which Rich ard slept, was forthwith converted into the Blue Boar, and the name of the street, called after it, has been corrupted into Blubber lane. A quiet little family circle in Utah consists of thirty-two wives and sixty- eight children, and when they all gath er around the hearth on winter eve nings the effect is said to be indescrib ably oozy. Pleasant words come bubbling up in a good-natured heart like water in a spring. It is as easy to speak them as it is to breathe, and they make every one hap pier who utters them. A False, False Swain.—An extraor dinary breach of promise case has been tried in England The plaintiff was a young lady of twenty-three, the daughter of a respectable widow lady. The defen dant was a farmer, aged twenty-nine. The peculiarity of the suit was that it was brought, not for the breach of a single promise to marry, but for breaking one promise and afterward making another and breaking that also. The first engage ment was nfade in 1868. While this en gagement existed, the plaintiff was. one day startled by the intelligence that the defendant had actually married another young lady. She submitted quietly to this treatment until the following year, when the wife of the defendant died. After the lapse of several months his at tentions to the plaintiff were renewed, and she, woman like, forgave him his former treachery, and they became en gaged a second time. After a while the defendant again relapsed from his devo tion to the plaintiff, and finally married another. She now sought the insufficient redress for wounded affections to be af forded by a court of justice, and the jury gave her a verdict of $2,500—more, we think, than such a fickle fellow would have been worth as a husband, although a very poor consolation for her disappoint ment.
The Union Republican (Winston, N.C.)
Standardized title groups preceding, succeeding, and alternate titles together.
June 5, 1872, edition 1
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