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A Family Companion, Devoted to Literature, Miscellany, News, Agriculture, Markets, &c. Vol. XII. WEDNESDAY MORNING, JANUARY 19, 1876. No.3. K THEHERALDt 1S.PUBLISHED EVERY WEDNESDAY MORlNING, At -Newberry, S. C. BY TH09,, F, GIMNEKERf Editor aud Proprietor. Terms,9 S2.50 per JAlnnin, Invariably in Advance. Z7- he ape isstopedat the expyration of 97y' The X mark denotes expiration of sub Ecription. A QUAKER'S CHRISTMAS EVE. How slow and soft the snow dress falls Upon the vine-deserted walls, As if some gracious soulI, intent Upon the one sweet deed it meant, Since in its grace such bounty lay, Should wrap each bare thing on the way, Till all things white and whiter grow, Except the shadows Earth must throw. The tender gray, the peaceful white, A Quaker setting make to-night; And so this moonshine, w1iich is shade, Only a little lighter laid, Into MY heart-still mood has crept, With.sach a glow as sun rise kept When youth and BeDiamain were mine Ah I swift the slowest years incline, And sunrise has no story unow To move me like the night and snow. If thime unqmiet bells, would cease Clashing their peals across this peace, It seems the hour's rare silentness F'en worldly hearts might chide and bless, And lift the lowest heavenward To greet the birthday -of the Lord. I cannot think the loudest bells Can utter what a pure voice tells, The spirit needs no brazen tone To whisper triamph to His own; The blessed healing falls to them a Bohemian, judging from his clothes. Let us be beggars and hap 1V~ tnoPAfhAr poor outcast curs that drifted with the tide in the lagoon to my door. They were lean, hungry-eyed crt a tnres, always on the alert for blows and kicks. What better friends could an unrecognized artist have than three drowning, starving, miserable dogs ? They were four footed epigrams against fortune. It was too late to begin work that day; I could only form high hopes of Pipo on canvas. We par took of a frugal repast. Pipo was initiated into the use. of a fork. Then I offered for his consideration the fli-st of a series of lectures on the manly art of washing plates. And yet, now that I have made me a name, now that friends and honor and fame are mine, I long with a wistful sadness for those dear old days in far off Venice. Some thing I have lost which then made life glorious. If I could only step out into my loggia at sunset, after a hard day's work, and hear in the rustle of the trees in the garden, in the roar of the surf at the Lido, in the vesper bell sweeping over the lagoon: "The world is an infi nite possibility. Go forth in the might of thy genius and youth and conquer the realm." I painted Pipo just as he was, in his rags and his dirt and his angel ic impishness. I wanted to paint him seminude, for the sake of that ripe golden skin of his. But I felt that my picture was destined for AAerican eyes,and Imerely enlarged fhei hoWs. in his garments. Pipo b6gan to manifest an alarm ing fondness for brushes and colors. "Is it possible that I may prove the Cimabue t o- this Giotto ?" I queried. "Giotto tended sheep and Pipo fished with a pin-hook. Better that he should dredge mud from Venetian canals all his life. He shall never wield the brush with my consent." This model boy of mine had one vice which all my efforts could not proot from his youthful breast. e had the face of an angel, but e used language that would have rought a blush to the cheeks of a hipload of pirates. Pipo soon settled to his own sat sfaction that when I went to Amer c he was to go likewise. I en ouraged the idea from education al motives. "Pipo, how long is it since you washed your face ?" Pipo counted his fingers. "A week." "Well, when you go to America, Pipo my boy, you'll have to wash our face every day and your hands oo, for there, my Venetian aristo rat, the people have a plebeian rejudice in favor of cleanliness." Pipo went off and returning, said, with a confidential smile: ."Me clean ow; me go to America." Pipo came to me shortly after ma with a graceful bow offered me a cigarette from a package in which e had just invested. It was Sat rday ; our week's work was done-; we had squared accounts, and Pipo felt like a millionaire. After a while things began to look black in the little old house on the lagoon.' Pipo and. I had been sbsisting for sometime on ship wreck rations. Never a foot cross d my humble threshold with intent o order pictures. Robinson Crusoe nd Friday were not more entirely alone on the island than were Pipo nd I there in that water-bound ottage with only our own bright dreams and the prophetic glory of sea and sky to keep us from utter retchedness. I was up to the ears n debt with Pipo at this time. But e understood my position and did not dun me. He was a dear good fellow this Pipo of nme, and would rather have gone cigarette less to the end of his days than to have brought me face to face with nsolvency by asking for centimes. "I am poor, Pipo," I said, at last, >penly and calmly ; "poor as a church mouse or an artist." "nll tell you something, padrone mio, that will bring you good luck," answered Pipo, looking at me with his great earnest eyes. "What is it ?" "You see, me want two cents me buy." I collected the required amount with some difficulty and - cautioned Pipo to be carefnl how he In.id itj He came back with a small cage. in his hand, containing three great black crickets. "They bring you good luck, pad rone. Everybody in Venice keeps them in the spring." "Well, I havn't much faith in them myself, but we will hang them over the fireplace and see what turns up. The crickets sang on bravely for a week, and did their best to bring me good fortune, I have no doubt, poor beasts. One morning I took down the cage and behold there were only two legless torsos of crickets. Their aniputated limbs lay about the floor of the cage in expressive confusion. The third had immigrated. Later I found him half cremated hehind the fire place. "Pipo," I said, mournfully, "your crickets are a delusion and a snare." One morning not long after, I was painting' as- usual, and Pipo was posing patiently before me. Suddenly there came a loud ring at the door. What could it be ? Cred itors I had none and visitors never. The dogs began to howl. I looked at myself. I wore a coat with fifty two patches; I told Pipo to keep his attitude. I put on a bold face, and went to the door. A white-haired gentleman stepped Lnto the hall. . The dogs swarmed >ver him at once. "I have- been told there was an artist living here," he said, looking about him. "Down, my dears, down I beg of you." "I am the artist, or at least I try o be one."' I thought his face looked familiar. [ remembered then who he was. he winter I was in Rome I heard a good deal about him-a benevo ent old fellow who hunted out poor urtipts and helped them on. He had had a son mad after art, and refused o let him study. The boy ran way from home, came to Europe, ainted awhile, gave hope of a bril iant career, and then falling ill died f sheer poverty and nothing else. nd so the father did what little he ould to atone for his fault. Oh, I emembered himi well. I ushered liim into the studio. "That's a very nice. little boy," Le said, patting Pipo's shaven pate. "Does,.he go to school ?'' "He does not. He revels in ig orance and smokes." "Ah, I see you are painting his ortrait-a young fishe:man. Beau iful thing ! Is it ordered ?" I forced a pallid smile. "Orders re not .plentiful in this establish nent. I am painting entirely for lory at present." "Then would you allow me to se ~ure it for a friend at home who is naking a collection of native art? ould you finish it by the end of he month ? And I know that artists nust have brusies and colors. I hould like to leave an instalilment, Li you will permit me." He laid a purse on the table. "Never mind thanks; I had a son mece myself. Come up and see me t the hotel." With his dear old face all aglow with kiindness he started for the oor. He waved me good-bye with his umbrella. "Come up and see ne and we'll talk it all over." "Come to my arms, 0, most bless d of Pipos. it's all through you ad your crickets !"1 Who says that ravens no longer ~ninister to the needs of hungry rophets ? Who says that angels walk not abroad in human guise. he dogs barked for delight, and1 Pipo and I danced for joy. From that day onward life pros ered again. Friends gathered bot,my orders assaulted me on ev ery side, and I exchanged the pic uresque poverty of the house on the lagoon for the sumptuous hall f a palace on the Grand Canal. ] Pipo stayed with me until I left Venice. He pleaded hard to be ta ken to America, but.[ felt that ine1 ould be misunderstood. His in iocent fondness for the weed would e labeled "Juvenile depravity;" his poetic raggedness would be account d squalor. So I left him in that beautiful city where the marble domes rise from the water like great white ilies, and the boats dance over the se nik sarlet-winged birds. There, where life is all one golden afternoon, I left my Pipo. We had borne joy and sorrow together, and the parting was hard. And where ever I go I carry about with me the memory of two innocent child-like eyes which finds its way continually on to my canvas. And when I hear the critics say: "How much this face reminds me of Da Vinci," I laugh, half wistfully, and think of the tender child-mouth that smiled up at me from the garden wall that lonely summer evening in far-off Venice. GREEK PRIZES. SECOND YEAR. It affords the subscriber sincere pleasure to be able to report to the friends of classical studies throughout t h e Commonwealth, that the effort made in behalf of those studies last year resulted in 3 gratifying success. The young gentlemen who partici pated in the examination which was held in December, 1875, showed that they had acquired lasting bene ts.from their tra;.ning, while the iddress of his excellency Governor Chamberlain on the occasion when bhe prizes were delivered, is justly. regarded as a valuable contribution bo the interests of higher edu 3ation. 1. The subscriber is therefore ncouraged to make a second effort. En connection with various citizens )f Greenville who have generously ent him their aid, he begs leave to )ffer three prizes-one of twenty Ive, another of fifteen, and anoth )r of ten dollars in currency o the students who shall stand re pectively first, second and third in in examination to Vyr held in this ,ity on the 29th day of November, L876. 2. The examination-partly writ en and partly oral-will be op.en bo any person in the State of South Jarolina, who is~ unde~r twenty-one years of age on the day mentioned. [t will be ~conducted, and the awards will be made by three gen blemen of acknowledged classical attainments 3. The examination will embrace bhe whole of Xenophon's Cyropodia, Owen's edition is recommended,) mnd the whole of Hadley's Greek Wrammar, except. the appendix,1 page 318) and the matter below the ine between page 5 and page 180. The student should con'sult An shon's Classical Dictionary, or some ther work of that kind for infor nation with regard to Xenophon, yrus and other prominent persons nentioned in the Cyropedia. 4. The student will be expected o show entire familiarity with the1 natter between ?7 and ?80, and oint out the application of the facts, mad principles there taught in declen ion and conjugation, and in read Eng. He will also be closely exam-1 ned on the matter between ?81 and 1113, and the accents will be re iuired in all eases. Complete and Lcurate knowledge of the matter >etween ?114 and ?450 (except that >ortion of it which is below the line) ~vill be found indispensable. The tudent will not only be examined mn the Syntax, but efforts will elso >e made both in the written and or l examination to test his ability2 o apply its principles in reading. 5. Ability to read Greek aloud vith fluency and a proper regard o accent and expression will be of . ervice to the student. 6. The maximum of proficiency ~vill be 100. Each person who re ~eives as much as 75 out of this mumber, shall be entitled to honor-1 ble mention. 7. All persons who expect to com ete for these prizes are desired to ~eport to the subscriber before the irst day of MIay, 1876, at which ime the list will be closed. No ex mnation will be held unless at east ten persons shall report them elves as proposing to enter it. Prompt notice will be given when hat number is obtained. 8. The prizes will be awarded in ublc, and efforts will be made to nduce a distin'guished friend of ~lassical learning from abroad to This Circular is affectionate] commende I to the youth of tb State and their kind co-operatio is solicited. Every teacher and pi rent into whose hands it may com is respectfully requested to encou ge the youth under his charge, t anter their names as competitor ind to render them whatever ai may seem appropriate. It is believed that arrangement 3an be effected with the varion railroads.of the State, to pass thos who may come to Greenville fo bhe-purpose of engaging in the e3 imination, free of charge. The; will be hospitably entertained b >ur citizens during their visit, s hat on the whole the expens ?romises to be trifling. Wx H. WHITSITT, Greenville, S. C. MOTHER. How my heart has been painei o see the coolness and indifferenc hich is often manifested for ai tged and dependent mother. Age may waste a mother's beaut3 md dim the lustre of her eye, he strength may depart, her limbs re use to support her tottering framE )r she may become as helpless a m infant, but shall we love her less [s she not our mother still? Ha ihe not toiled and watched ove ur helpless infanny ? And i routh, has she not tried to lead u n the straight and narrow path Ind in sickness she was our miniE ering angel. Who but a mothe )ould be so patient, so kind and ad ectionate, so gentle and self-sacri icing, as a mother? If we have been tempted into foi >idden paths, if we have followei a bad counsel-and gone astray, i we have chosen evil companions an< orgotten the good counsels of ou routh who is so ready to encourag tnd lead us back to honor and vii ue, as a mother? She is read; ;o fprgive, to love and cherish u still Who can fathom a mother's love he is our friend when all the worl< orsakes us. She will cling to us will die for us if necessary. A mother's love is strong, tende md true. Hard indeed must b he heart that can neglect and abus t dear old mother. She should never feel that she i iot welcome, never feel that she i i burden to her children, neve ;hould her sensitive heart be paine< >y an unkind look or word. How lii ;le do we appreciate a mother's ten lerness and love, while living-hol ittle- do we think of her care an< mxiety for us ! But when she i ~one, and we see the old arm chair ~he vacant place at the table, an< 1ear no more her dear voice, the: lo we know she is gone,never mor< o return, and we cannot call he ack. She has gone; and happil: or us if wie have so treasured ou nother,that we can say we have beei aithful and made her happy, an< ~ould look forward to a meeting >eyond this world. YULGARITY.-We have A frien( bat never spoke a "vulgar word. le iaa minister and a writer o bility. "I resolved when I wai L child," said he, "never to use vord which I could not pronounci efore my-mother without offend g her." He kept his promise le is a pure-minded, noble, honor d man to-day. His rule and exam >le are worthy of imitation. Boys readily learn a class of liv ulgar words and expressions vich are never heard in respect ble circles. The utmost care or ,be part of parents will scarcelj revnt it. Of course we cannol bink of girls as being so muct >xposed to this peril. We canpo magine a decent girl using word be would not give utterance t( efore her fatber or mother. Such vulgarity is thought by ome boys to be "smart ;" thi next thing to swearing," and ye ot so wicked. It becomes a hab t ; it leads to profanity ; it fill ,he mind with evil thoughts t vulgarizes and degrades th< ~oul; it prepares the way fo nany of the gross and fearfu ins which now corrupt society.. (Christian Neighbor. Advr.t ise in the HEnRALD. y THE MARCH TO ETERNITY. ,e n Tramp, tramp, on we go without pause or respite from the cradle to the grave. First comes progress and increase of stature; the devel o opment of every faculty, and cul s mination to the zenith, of the phys a ical and mental energies. Then, retrogression is the order of nature, s and gradually, at first, but with con e stantly accelerated pace, the frame e descends to senility, the material r essence lapsing finally into naught, and the spiritual launching upon y the sea of the dread unknown here after. D Reader, this is your lot and mine, e and there is no escaping the con sequences of man's fall, and the doom of our first parents. We must die; aye, inevitably die, despite the apothegm that all men think all men mortal btit themselves. Hence, when the return of a birth I day marks another of the brief s stages upon life's pathway, bringing i us one stadium nearer to the goal of eternity, it is meet at least to pause and reflect. How stands the reek r oning? Have we grown wiser and better within the p a s t twelve months? Have feuds and animosi s ties been forgiven and forgotten,. P and enemies thereby transferm 8 ed into friends ? Have we con r qaered self in any particular, and a risen superior to the slavery of s injurious habits or propensities ? - Are we fonder husbands or wives, . and more tender and considerate r parents? Have we sought to pay our honest debts and owe no man aught save love?. Have we endeavored-to seek the "pearl of great price"and propitiate the favor I of a long suffering and merciful f God? In short are we advancing or retrograding in the scale of be r ing ? e Tliese are pertinent and impor tant questions, which should be y propounded and candidly answered s by every one at each return of his natal day. ? Man's allotted existence is but i three score years and ten, and few ~, go beyond it. How soon then will the hours of our probation ebb r away, and the night of death suc e ceed, wherein "no mant can work." e Still the day of one's birth should be celebrated with thanksgiving s and praise,in that God has merciful s ly lengthened out to another year r. the fleeting span of life, and crown i him with innumerable benefactions -. and loving kindnesses. Moreover, it . ought to be seen to that good resolu y lions are not only then formed, but j faithfully kept. THE WAY 1T RAIS IN FImana.-A Florida correspondent says: It is hard for a Northern farmer, who watches the horizon with aching reyes, to understand the clock-like regularity . of this rainy season South. Occasionally, as this year it eis delayed; but once set in goes on regulrly.There is a misty or clear morning, the air transfused with a blushing rainbowy effulgence that melts away in the ardent kisses of the sun into an intense dazzle of sun Slight up to two o'clock. Then the skirmishers of the rain rush in on cool, dewy winds, and by sharp three So'clock the whole line is platoon ~firing in great,heavy fusilades. Such Srains ! Gorgeous, glorious, rushing, a magnificent enthusiasm of plung ing moisture. Then the long roll of the thunder drums ; the crack ing artillery, with its splendor of electric flash, tolled off in low rolls; and, before you are aware, the mo bile army has gathered up its splen did wings, its fire and.after guard and reserves, anad only in the west you see its grand victorious battle flags ribbing the sky with broad bands of color. Mix in a few rain bows some foggy morning when the whole air is prismy, and the clear, still lake looks like an undersky, and you have some idea of Florida in the rainy season. Regular as the clock that marshalling and grand battle panorama goes on at set two. o'clock, to be closed positively-no change on account of the weather -by five o'clock r. xr. e What does an honest grocer do j with his goods ? He gives them away (a weigh.) The Punch man notices that the bald-headed men comb their heads with towels. THAT HIRED GIRL. When she came to work for the family on Congress street the lady of the house sat dewn and told her that agents, book peddlers, hat rack men, picture sellers, ash buyers, ragmen, and all that class of people must be met at the front door and coldly repulsed, and Sa rah said she'd,repulse 'em if she had to break every broomstick in Detroit. And she did. She threw the door open wide, bluffed right up to 'em, and when she got through talking the cheekiest agent was on ly too glad to leave. It got so after awhile that peddlers marked that house,. and the door bell never rang except for company. The other day as the lady of the houee was enjoying a nap, and Sarah was wiping off the spoons, the. bell rang. She hastened to the door expecting to see a lady, but her eyes encountered a slim man dressed in black and-wearing a white necktie. He w'as the new minister, and he was going around to get acquainted with the mem bers of his flock, but Sarah wasn't expected to know this. "Ah-um-is Mr.-ah" "Git!" exclaimed Sarah, pointing to the gate. "Beg pardon, but I'd like to see -see!" "Meander!" she shouted, look ing around for a weapon, "we don't want any flour sifters here I" "You are mistaken," he replied, smiling blandly, "I called to" "Don't want anything to keep moths away-fly I" she exclaimed, getting red in the face. '&Is the lady in ?" he inairi'd, trying to look over Sarah's head. "Yes, the lady's in, and I'm in, and you're out'!". she snapped, "and now I don't want to stand here talking to a fly-trap agent any longer! Come, lift your boots !" "I'm not an agent," he said, try ing to smile, "I'm the new"-a "Yes, I know you-you are the new man with a patent flatiron, but we don't want any, and you'd better go before I call the dog !" "Will you give the lady my card apd say that I1 called ?" "No, I won't. We're bored to death with cards and handbills and circulars. Come, I can't stand here all day I" "Didn't you know that I was a. minister?" he asked as he backed off. "No, nor I don't know it now; you look like the man who sold the woman next -door a dollar chromo for eighteen shillings~!" "But here is my card." "I don't care for cards, I tell you! If you leave that gate open I'll heave a flower pot at you 1" "1 will call again," he said as he went tbrough the gate. "It wo n't do you any good" she shouted after him ; "we don't want no prepared food for infants-no piano music-no stuffed birds! I know the policeman on this beat, and if you come around here again he'll soon find out whether you are a confidence man or a vagrant!" And she to6k unusual care to lock the door.-Detroit Free Press. . An exchange hits the nail right on the head when it says: "If an editor omits anything, he is lazy. If he speaks of things as they are, people get angry. If he glosses over or smootL- s down the rough points, he is bribed. If he calls things by proper names, he .is unfit for the position of editor. If he does not furnish . his readers with jokes, he is a mullet; if he does, he is a rattlehead, lacking stability. If he condemns wrong, be is a good fellow, but lacks discre [ion. If he lets wrongs and injuLries go -unmehtioned, he is -a coward. [f he exposes a public man, he does it to gratify spite-is the tool of the clique, or belongs to the "outs." [f he indulges in personalities, he is a blackguard ; if he does not, bis paper is dull and insipid." Why is coal the moet con tra :lictory article known to c o m - merce ? Because when purchased it goes to the cell.ar. ADVERTISINC RATESC Advertisements inserted at the =W of $1.00 per square-one inch-fbr first inurzdon, &-d 75c. for each subsequent insertion. Double column advertisements tenper cent on abome. Notices of meetings, obituaries and trftutes of respect, same rates per square as OrdkMu7 advertisements. Special notices in local, column 15 cents per line. Advertisements not marked with the num ber of insertions wMl be kept in till fbild and charged accordingly. Special contracto made with larW adver Uisers, with liberal deductlowa on above rates *Weir Pwa.wrvf Done with Neatness and Dispatch Terms Cash. ALPHABETICAL LINES Ok A HOP.,; A was-A ans who came to the hop, B was the Brewer, sweet Amin da's pop. C was the Costume she wore:.at the ball, D were the- Darts, her eyes shot * at all. E was the Evening, in plesr thus spen4, F were the Fathers, who stood. 'rou*nd conent G werethe Gir*s,sogaefuld bright, H were the Hearts tbat,te broke that night. I were the Icdns l ~ L arou-nd, J were the Jokes which-e. the ground.. 1K was the Kindness.thehots dlid show, Lwere theIAdie4 each6nevith:" - a beau. M were theMaieme, le and gluml ~o]d at his ageinspire? Hewould Lose the assurance of his identity nader the impression of this im