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V v 1 f THE TRIBUNE. I .^ 4 { . .?!.* Ml' i axli'l 4. N ? ?? - - ? r-?- ? I 1' . >i-ii;a?3esgl VOL. I.--NO. 9. BEAUFORT, S. C., JANUARY 20, 1875. $2.00 PER ANNUM! .-lOtM i rt' The Old Farm-Honne. At the foot of the hill, noar the old rod mill, In a quiet, shady spot, Just peeping through, half hid from view, Stands a little moes-grown cot. And straying through at the open door, * The-sunbeams play on the Banded tloor. I The easy chair, all patched with caro,V, Is placed by the old heart h-etono ; With witching grace, in the old fireplace. The evergreens are strewn. And pictures hang on the whitened wall, And the old clock ticks in the cottage hall. More lovely still, on the window-sill, The dow-cyod flowers rest, While midst the leaves on tho mose-growu eaves The martin builds her nest. And all day long the summer breeze b whispering love to the bended trees. Over the door, all covered o'er WiUi a Back of dark green baize, Lays a musket old, whose worth ia told In the events of other days ; And the powdei^flask, and the hunter's horn, Have hung beside it for many a morn. For years have fled, with noiseless tread, Like fairy dreams away, And left in their flight, all shorn of his might, A father?old and gray ; And the soft wind plays with liis snow-white hair, And the old man sleeps in his easy-chair. Inside the door, on the sanded floor, Light, airy footsteps glide, And a maiden fair, with flaxen hair, Kneels by the old man's Bide? An old oak wrecked by the angry storm, While the ivy clings to its trembling form. SUSY HOPE'S LESSON. " H'm ! Well, I suppose opposition would only make matters worse, but I warn you Susy Maxwell is a spoiled cliild! I don't believe she was ever crossed in her life." This was Montairae Hone'n mmmont when his favorite nephew, "Walter, told him he was engaged to marry pretty Susy Maxwell, the daintiest, sweetest little blonde fairy that ever charmed away a man's heart. " I am sure I am not going to marry her to cross her!" was the warm reply, and Unole Montague shrugged las bachelor shoulders and maintained a discreet silence. For many a long week after the honeymoon there was only peaoe and happiness between Walter and Susy. The young husband having a good salary in a wholesale house, where he was salesman, had taken a handsome room in a fashionable up-town boarding nouse, and while Susy's handsome trousseau was new she had nothing left to Wish for. Had the little wife been in a cozy home of her own, were it ever so tiny, she might havo found happy employment to keep ner still content. But in a boarding house, Walter away all day, she soon made friends with the other ladies, unfortunately for her, all possessing] wealth sufficient to gratify an inborn love of dress. Walter opened his eyes a Little at some of the prices Susy insisted were requisite to obtain finery, but as long as he could afford it he gave liberally. But Uncle Montague was right when he said that Susy was never crossed. It is true her demands in her old heme wero somewhat more moderate, but she had been the petted darling of aged grandparents, an orphan from infancy, and indulged in every wish. So, when the demands for money became unreasonable, and were refused, Susy developed an unsuspected capacity for pouting, and would sulk for days together, quoting her new friends' opinions of Walter's meanness. Matters grew worse and worse, till one morning, being denied a lace sliawl upon which she had set her heart, Susy tearfully wished that she had never been married, or had taken Wayne Bussell, who was heir to half a million. She was sorry a minute later, when Walter turned a set white face to her and said : "You only love the money you can spend, then r' A burst of hysterical tears was the only answer, and then Walter was gone. Not to the store, but straight to Unole Montague's office. " Unole !" he said, abruptly entering the room, "is that Western position otf * DtUl UUUU I " Tno one I offered to you before yon were married t" " Yes ! I want it ! Now, to-day !" "But you cannot take Susy. The salary is Very large, and there aro handsome commissions, but the travel is incessant !" " I know ! Can I have it t" " What is the trouble, Walter f" " I must have more money ! Susy wants more than I can afford to give her, and more than once has informed me that she married to do as she pleased ; so I am going to take myself off, and lot her havo all the money she wants." Uncle Montague reflected, and fiually said slowly, "Well, you can havo it." Preliminaries arranged, Walter went to the store, resigned his position, and hurried home to pack a trunk and start for Pittsburgh. Even then a soft word front Susy might have changod his resolve, but Susy was out, " gono shopping," the servant told him. * When sho came home a note upon her dressing table greeted her sight. Brief and harsh. "Since yon care for notliing but money and lino clothes, I havo accopted an offer to travel West, on a largo salary and commission, and can remit to you enough, I hope, to make you happy. I have refused the position before, as it necessitated our separation, but now I have no hesitation in accepting it. If you can arrange it you had better return to your grandfatlior's. Walter." If Walter could liavo heard the moaning cry that greeted the letter, he could never have carried ont his hasty resolution. But he was already on his way Westward, and there was no one to comfort Susy as she wept and grieved. More than once she whispered in her sobbing : ? Ana x meant to toil Inm to-day. Oil, why didn't I tell him ? He would never have gone I" All night the little blonde sorrowed, and in the morning she carried her troubles to her grandmother, and whispered her secret there. " You uust come right home, and we will write to Walter," said tho old lady. But writing to Walter proved a matter of difficulty. His now business kept him incessantly moving, and there was no certainty of a letter reaching him. Every month a short letter reached 3usy, containing a draft for money, and she sorrowfully hid them away, the very sight of them cutting her to the heart. Home was not homo to her, with Walter away, tho weary heart-sickness pressing sorely upon her. One morning when her husband had been gone nearly six months, an uncle of Susy's died and left her $20,000. Montague Hope heard of the legacy with a grim smile. " I suppose madam will have a set of diamonds," ho said, " or a fancy wardrobe from Paris." To his surprise, late in the day, Susy came into his office. She had never been a favorite with the old man, but his heart softened as he looked in her sad, pale face. "Mr. Hope," she said, timidly, "I have come to ask a great favor of you." -- vroii, my uear," ne answered gently, " I should be pleased to grant it, I am sure." " You have heard of my legacy ?" MI have." " You know of this miserable separation; that is all my fault. I have a plan to end it. I don't want to excuse myself, for I know that I was foolish and extravagant, butr I am sure if we had not lived in a fashionable boarding house I never would have cared so much for expensive clothing. I am a good housekoepor, for my grandmother taught me how to cook and sew and keep a house in order. What I want is to buy a small house, furnish it neatly, and have a home of our own ; and then" ?the blue eyes wore lifted pleadingly ?"won't you let Walter know how sorry I am, and bring him back. I would not trouble you aliout the house, but grandfather is so old that any unusual business troubles him." "You are a sensible woman," Uncle Montague said, emphatically, "and I will help you with all my heart. I sup t>u?? you are anxious to get into your kouse as soon as possible ? " Indeed I am 1" "Well, I will call to-morrow and tell yon what I have done." > Such a time as Unole Montague gave upholsterers for the next fortnight! He bought a gem of a two-story houso, with all "modern improvements," and every day he brought a carriage for Susy to go with him to select carpets, furniture and household wares. Then he drove the workmen till every spot within the four walls was in shining order. " We won't write to Walter till everything is ready," he said. And one sunny morning he escorted Susy to the completely furnished house, where a strong-armed serVant was already installed, and made a little speech. " I am a rich bachelor, my dear, and Walter's my heir, and dear as a son to me. I have never given him wealth, ImAaniw T fKink Vix? mil - 1-- ? ? ?-? "? -w wrn UTJ u uitppiur, nobler man for leaning to depend upon his own exertions. I disapproved of liifl marriage beoanse I thought yon wero a silly, spoiled child, who would mar his life's usefulness." "You were right," said Susy, tearfully and humbly. "I was wrong. The last two weeks have proved that. I had no business to encourage him in this wild-goose expedition, but as my atonement *for my injus,tice to you I ask you to accept this house and all that it contains. You will find the piaao a first-rate instrument, and the pictures, though few, nro gbod. Yom own money, if yon will trust it to me, ] will invest in secure stock that will give i you a little income of your own." "How can I thank you?" sobbed ! Susy. V Bv growing rosy and happy, and : giving me a corner of your fireside now and then. Now, my dear, I am going | home to write to Walter." I But before the letter had accomplished | its journey a telegram shot past it, carrying terror to Walter Hope, j "Come home at once; Susy is dangor! ously ill." Oh, the heart sinking, the bitter repentance ! All the weary loneliness of the last six months were as nothing to this horriblo fear. Susy, little, tender, loving Susy, ill, perhaps dyiug! Walter Hope had hardened Ins heart by saying to himself that Susy never loved him. But ho knew it was false; Susy had 1 loved him. He had taken her, a petted j child, from her tranquil, happy home, ' put her where every hour there was | temptation to some fresh extravagauce, i and then, when she, like a child, craved ' indulgences beyond his means, had I roughly granted them while depriving i her of his protection and presence. And ; she had fretted herself ill. | Oh, how the long journey tortured mm : jli ever ne could reacli busy and hear her say she forgave him, he would never leave her aide again, If her life was spared, and she still craved th? extravagances of her friends, ho would try by love and gentleness to win.her to more reasonable wishes ! Over and over again, | in the long, tedious journey, he lived the j few Bhort months of his married life, 1 every harsh word rising to torment him, and all Susy's winning charms reproaching him. If she died, ho would never know happiness again. Perhaps she was already dead I So the self-communing went on. He had led a busy life in the six months that poor Susy was fretting her heart away in self-reproachful sorrow, and had had but few hours for meditation. Long, hard-working days found him utterly weary at night, and in his rapid movements from place to place, the frequent changes from hotel to hotel, he did not miss home comforts ' as he must have done in a more settled j life. Home had indeed never been more than a name to Walter Hope, who had boarded under his uncle's core since he was a mere boy. The privacy of one's own house, one's own table, were to him misty possibilities when he should have won a sufficient fortune to buy a house. But he felt with bitter force what a desolation life would bo to him if Susy died. A vorv pale, anxious face greeted Uncle Montague as he woitod on the platform of the depot for the earliest Western truin by which Walter could return. " She is out of danger t" he said, before other word.? of greeting were exi changed; 1 very weak yet, so you must meet her as calmly as you can. Then, as the two drove across the city, Uncle Montague told Walter of Susy's legacy, her present, and her good resolutions. " She is the dearest little woman in the world," the old man said, " and you must make her happy now. There is a good woman in the house now to keep it in order till Susy is well. Then, Walter, let her have tlie care herself. Even if her inexperience brings some temporary discomforts, love will soon teach her how to remedy defects, and she will find her happiness where true women seek for it ever, at home ! God help those who havo no such heaven of rest." The carriage stopped before the pretty stone house, but Walter scarcely saw the cheerful halls as he sprang up the stairs to Susy's room. Once there, he remembered his uncle's caution; and, opening the door softly, ho went in with 1 a quiet step. A very weak but a very 1 glad voice spoke his name, and he bent over the pale face on the pillow, his voice low and tender, murmuring loving ' words. " Our boy," Susy whispered. " I I meant to tell you the day you went aw*y." -* >ynut a nrnte i was: uan you lorgivo me, Susy ?" "Mush, love; it is I who should ask forgiveness. But you will not go again, Walter." " Never ! Tho weo darling ! She him curl his fingers round mine. How old is he, Susy!" 1 " A week old to-morrow. Walter let i me call him Montague." " I should have asked it^' So through sorrow and separation i Walter and Susy found the road to liapi piness, and it would be hard to find a eozier home. ft more contlft. lmrinrr wife i or a sturdier boy &an greet Walter Hope every evening when he returns from his day's business. Ho colored with deep pain when Susy put into his i hands every draft he had sent to her nni cashed, but ho has invested them for the use of Montague Hope, Jr., while Susy wonders if ever again fine i clothes or jewelry can tempt her to speak [ a cross word to Walter. 1 1 ' j The United States Agricultural Bureau ! estimates the average value of horses iu I his oouutry at $71.45 a head. 5ew Bridal Dresses. Creamy white and pearl white faillee are both shown for wedding dresses, says A a fashion journal, but the preference is for the former. The prices range from n $4 to $10 a yard. The first quality is handsome enough for any lady, and the e, finest is of remarkable beauty?thick, R 1 heavily repped, yet pliable and soft; in- ^ : deed, it is no longer a commendation ^ | that a silk is stiff enough to stand alone. ' , I "Wliite satins are shown in various quali- ; ties, costing from $3.50 to $10 a yard. ; Trains of now wedding dresses measure ' w , from sixty to seventy inches in length, j ^ which is longer than those of ordinary ' ovening dresses. The new and apyro- ^ priate fashion is to adjust this train ma ^ wide quadruple plait from the belt down, a) as tliis smooth flowing fold is far prettier under a veil tlian any bunched-up-over- ^ skirt or pouf train. Three breadths of m silk form this train, and the plait is held ^ I in position by tapes underneath, until gj j near the bottom, where it spreads out Q] ! like a fan. T1 :re is no flounce, of course, a] I on these back breadths. A deep side y I plaiting is across the foot of the front 0 i ftThl flido rrnrna ond oKovro I v. QN/AVU) luiu HWVIO mun lo a oqIUUO jjj tablier, formed by throe bias bands of silk, piped on one side, and edged below Q] by a tulle plaiting. These cross the ^ front breadths and extend np the side ^ gores to the belt, producing a very fs pretty effect. Clusters of or%nge flowers ^ are down the middle of this tablier, and Bj also down the tulle jabot that trims the Bj box-plait behind. The basque is a long Bj smooth cuirass with pointed neck and ^ antique slevees, trimmed with abundant ruches of tulle around neck and elbows, ^ with merely a piped band on the edge of e, the barque. Little shell bows of silk I fasten the front, and one is plaoed on p: the back of the waist and on each elbow. Another stately wedding dress is partly of white gros grain and partly satin. The a front or pettiest is of white satin, jy trimmed with two five-inch plaitings, lapping, a puff, and a standing ruffle two ^ : and a half inches wide. Over this a train p of white corded silk seventy inches long vr behind, with the sides cut three different lengths, forming a square front and u. deeper squaro corners on the sides. Two large bows are down the front. The e> basque has a postilion back with a smooth m cuirass front. The bride-maids' dresses ^ accompanying this are of checked ^ Chambery gauze over white silk. p, pi Awful for the Man. * it The Detroit Free Fress is responsible for the following : l " Bo VOll OT1 fllO tnrna 1" in quired a dilapidated man, as he entered the Central Station, recently, and ad- ^ dressed a sergeant. He was imformed a tliat sncli was the case, when he con- ^ tinued : " I'm clean tuckered out. It's j1( that wife of mine. I'm a fool?a blasted pi old fool, sir! I'm fifty, and she's ^ twenty. She wants to gad about, and I want to stay at home ; and if I say a ^ word, it's the teapot, flatiron, or what- rt ever comes handy. I've argued and 0, scolded, and scolded and fit, and here I f, I am. Look at this black eye I Look at q 1 mo all over, mister police force ! Once 0| I was happy ; now I am busted. She wants mo to go to every picnic, and ex- p cursion, and festival, and dance, and it's j,, I killing mo by inches. Then she wants a ^ ! new dress to-day, a bonnet to-morrow, ! and so on, and I've got to get 'em, or ^ i liave a fight. I've stood it all along, but ~ I I'm broken now. See that 'ere arm? ^ see whero she put her teeth in thar this H1 morning, when I would not let her ^ have money to buy a pair of high-heel- ^ ,* ed shoes. Just lay yer eyes on that air ~ scar, mister polioe {<oroe! ' g. " It's pretty tough," said the sergeant, &] as he looked. w " Touorh ! Great heavens f its' uwfnl t . perfectly awful! to bite in that way 1" ft ( continued the old man. " But the end q | lias come. I've got relashuns over ^ ! tliar who wouldn't see me abused, and q 11 she's welcome to what's in the house. jc ! If any one comes around here sayin' ^ I've committed suicide or disappeared, y just tell 'em how it is, mister police ^ force?tell 'em I suffered and suffered, y, until I had to leave her to die. Tell J, everybody to beware of her; she looks C] | nice, but she's a varago, a liippercrit?a ^ regular yaller fox, behind the currant bushes!' i The sergeant promised, and the old man rolledj down his sleeves and pursued his journey towards the ferry. t> Maine Ship Bnlldlng. * b The Portland Rrea? has prepared an ; tl ' exhibit of the amount of tonnage built . o 1 in Maine during the year 1874, from , which it appears that the wholo number tl 1 I of vessels built and registered duriug n i the year as far as reported is : Ships, l 15; barkentines, 11; barks, 23; brigs, n 13; schooners, 104; steamers, 5; tugs, 4; 1 other vessels, 7: total tonnage of sumo, e ; 75,533 tons. Number of vessels regis- j: tered, built, "and building, and to be completed within the year: Ships, 19; ; e barkentines, 12; barks, 33; brigs, 15 ; k l schooners, 118; steamers, 5 ; tugs, 4; i t other vessels, 13; aggregate tonnage of j i same, 90,621. 1 e THE DIPHTHERIA. Fear fat Hcenrge WWt HmiM to Dmw. A fearful scourge, His diphtheria, is ow afflicting many sections, large and nail, of the United States, and there is very reason to believe that it will extend itlier than decline in its ravages. So uportant has the matter ef its arrest eoome, that a meeting of the leading hvsicians of New York city was latety eld, and the origin, rise and program of le scourge was carefnllv oonstdered. It as known that in New York the dtathn y diphtheria had grown gradually every ear from 53 in 1859 to 1,151 in 1878, ith a considerable increase in 1874. he physicians, after deliberation, arrived t the following practical oondiaskms: 1. If diphtheria has gained a foothold l any city or populous neighborhood, it dects certain localities in which its perstenoe is speedily marked, and its perjstenoe, as shown by repeated outbreaks r continued prevalence, seems to hold a important relation to certain oondions of soil, drainage, and sanitary wants f dwellings, which admit of preventive teasures. 2. The extension of the disease from ae individual to another and to entire ouseholds or families, and from finally > family, and from place to place, are icts so well proved in the history of the isease that the entire separation of the ck from the well, at least of chSUren ck with this disease from all outers, lould be regarded as a first-rate sanitary nty. 3. That the immediate sanitary as well i perfect medical care of every family cpoaed fa> it seems to be a duty required y every consideration of humanity-and ublic health. 4. That a complete and exact record of iphtheraaas it prevails in any locality is duty of much importance to society, id that, for the purpose of promoting ie successful discharge of this duty to >ciety and the medical profession, the ublic Health Association of the city of ew York respectfully submits the folwing resolution as embodying its view pon the subject: Rcsolvmdi, That every Board of Health, rery county and city medical society, id every practitioner of issflatwan in t&s bate of Uew York, is most respectfully rged to- cause a correct record to be rcparecB concerning the beginning, regress ? local, domestic, and hygienic mditdons under which diphtheria occurs i any plhoe in the State. The Jockey's Race. San Rancisoo has this year been giwig the same experis&oa that every lodity does every year, where hone racig exists. A paper gives a detail of dw the* thing is done: Two jockeys m at their small heads togetbee ml lay it a campaign. Here is a hozsa that is no fast record, but is a good second > (jtoiaBmitli mid. Ttiw want of a >oord permits him to be beaten without > cciting: suspicion, thus re Tiling GMi>rnia enthusiasm on their favorite horse, ue jockey takes charge of Occident, the iicr of Fullerton. Occident wine the ' ; ret race, and up go the California hats, he next is trotted to wagon. Occident liiaves badly and Fullerton wins, mafcig very extraordinary time. A. week iter the horses are brought tpgetber ^ain. This time Occident behaves )lendidly, and Fullerton. is the one that innot be managed. Occident wine to llky, only one heat being in leas time lan Fullerton made to wagon the week ofore. Everybody feels glad that the allant little brown horse won the raoe, at few have more oonddenoe in his jility to beat Fullerton than when they ent on the ground. The race had every ppearanoe of being sold. It does not >llow that the owners of Fullerton and ocideut had anything to do with buyig and selling. Probably they had not. wners are not usually consulted by ckeys in these little matters. They rrango tliat among themselves. The ling the publio has to consider is, if it i worth while to be victimised year after ear by jockeys for the aako of witneeslg a trotting raoe that is probably de- J ided before either horse goes on the rack." . . ,t Questions for IHscnssloa. The (1 ranges of Iowa isstte every louth a list of questions for the farmers j discuss. Here is the last lot : Main Question?What benefits have ecu secured to the producing classes irouarh the oror&niaafaon of the Order f Patrons of tiosbandrv ? Siilxinostions?1. What benefits in tie matter of social culture and enjoylent i . l 2. Wliat boneflts in the matter of flancial and material advancement f 3. What benefits in the matter of audi ducation as relates to methods of form ractioe ?" 4. What benefits in the matter of such ducation as relates to public affairs, to mowledge of finance, and to the inoreasng influenoe of farmers as a class V 5. What benefits in the matter of ge&* ral welfare <