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* / ■ I > . - ■■ji TRI-WEEKLY EDITION. _ WINNSBORO. S. 0.. JANUARY 20.1883. ESTABLISHED 1847 dWEETS TO THIS TWEET. “ Sweets to Uke sweet,” be softly said, As bending o’er her lovely bead. He proffered her a flower, *• And may I dare to hope, with this You’ll give me jnst one little lass In memory of the hour!” “ You think ’twould bea ft^ir exchange?" r Said she. “ Row bonndlest Is the range Of man’s uncnrbed conceit ? And If I do as you propose In barter of this lovely rose, I’d give ‘ sweets to the sweet r ” “ I Meant not that,” quite growing red, ' “ I only meant—Just what 1 laid, And not the thing yon make it,” * “ Beg pardon, then, but, stiUj” she quoth, “ I must not give it, though you’re wroth But, may be, you can take It.” MISS EUA.AI.IKSEL.M TREE. ley It -« ■ . I " '■ “■ eyes every morning on my beloved sea, and yon refuse to sacrifice a tree for an old friend and neighbor, a tree which will drop of its own will present!; Jy. ’Captain Valentine,” she said, “you It was a magnificent work of nature, Mm Eulalie’s elm-tree; so tall and graceful, overhanging the street with its green banner, lending a charming shadd to her little parlor, which gave it the air of a dim, cool recess in the woods on a summer’s day. Miss Eulalie loved it, und, except lor her gay young ward, i^ would seem as if she had little else to* 1 love. Her grandfather had planted it; it was a sort of a heirloom. She had passed her youth beneath its boughs ; tier name was carved op its stem. She had nevoi looked at the tree without thinking of the one who had carved it there; of the still, moonlight nights the, had spent toge '<er in its shadow, gave her both pain and pleasure— pleasure, because it reminded her that he had loved her once, pain that he had never returned to her; What had es tranged him was still as great a mystery to her as ih those early days of her be reavement, when sorrow and suspense had been her daily companions, rising up and sitting down with her. Perhaps some fairer woman had enslaved him, [>erhaps he had never really loved her at all, end she experienced a pang of mortified pride when she reflected that she had possibly been vain enough to make the mistake. Year by year she watched the tender green of the elm thicken into dark masses of leaves; year by year she had watched them fading and fading like her own hopes and illu sions; it was a poem to her; and yet, after all, it was only Miss Eulalie’s elm- tree by permission. The home of her ancestors had fallen into other hands; she had only returned to it by a happy chance, not as its owner. Mrs. Vanghn, the purchaser, had a daughter to be educated, and Miss Eulalie had taken the situation. When Mrs. Vanghn died, she devised that Miss Eulalie should make a home with Isabel, be mother, sister and teacher, all in one, to that wayward young person, till she should marry—in short, stand in the gap. Miss Eulalie had been used to staoding in gaps all her life; this was nothing new. And it was a home —her old home where she had dreamed dreams. When she had walked at twilight beneath the old elm its leaves seemed to whisper, “Just here he kissed you first,” and “Here you said good bye.” No wonder she loved the old tree! “Dangerous thing,’ said Captain Valentine, tapping its trunk wityi.hiji «ane ss he walked by; “hollow-heartec as a jilt. Miss Eulalie.” “You are mistaken,” she replied; “ii; is as sound as a nut.” “But it must come down,” he added, as if bis word were law. “Never, while Hive, Capt. Valentine.” “You forget that I am a man of pro- ’ perty; that I pay more taxes than any one in Littleford; that I can buy every tree in the place, and cut it down, if I cDoose. ” “Then it is only from pure good-na ture that you beg my consent to cut down this exquisite tree? Do you know, I have loved it from a child ; my grand father planted it—” “I know that Miss Isabel owns the whole estate, and 1 know that this bone of contention, this tree, obstructs view from my windows, Miss Eulalie, which is more to the point—that its boughs leap into the air so high and spread their branches so wide tnat it blots out the sea, “the open seaand he passed on up the long green lawn to his new home, with its marble steps and broad balconies, which made his humble neighbor seem forlorn and shabby. Miss Eulalie looked at the imposing structure, at the parterres of brilliant, dowers at the fountain tossing its jets into the sunlight, the velVet terraces and lawns, and smiled. Why had Captain Valentine chosen to build his palace so near her home? Why had he bnilt at all, at this time of life, with no family to inherit, and no wife to do its honors? How lonely he must be, she thought, in the spacious mansion, with nobody bat the servants to speak with! Why had he n^ver married? In the numil ity of her heart Miss Eulalie never dreamed that it was because she would not marry him. That had happened so many years ago, before he and Anson Andrews had sailed together in the Water Witch. How angry he had been then! how jealous of Anson 1 How bit terly he had sworn that the day shoulc come when she would give her heart’s blood to recall the Jwordt—when she would regret her folly in dust and ashes Bat of ocarse he had forgotten all that —the ravings of an untamed nature. He had been only second mate then, with little or nothing ahead m the world tc-day he was Capt.* Valentine, with that world at his feet; the richest man in town, perhaps. “You might have been mistress up there Miss Eulalie.” he haJTeminded her one day, pausing one day at her gateway alter the house was done. “But you took your choice—you took your choice, and”—laughing-“they tell us that beggars shouldn’t be Choos ers.” From the very first Captain Valentine had raised a hue and cry about Mins Enlalie’a elm-tree; it almost seemed as if he selected the site to tfeasa her, as il he wished to strip her of everything she loved, since she declined to love him. “I uaTe bought the most’ expensive spot in town,” he said, “and spared nb money, in order that I might open my have my word, oqoe for all; the elm shall stand so long as I am mistress here. There need be no more words about it.” No more words, but deeds,” he answered, and a wicked, angry light flamed in his eyes, suoh as she had seen there once before. The man could hold fire like iron. But then the subject dropped, as She supposed. He did not mention the tree again. “He has given it up,” she thought; “he makes a great noise when he can’t have his way, and then forgets about it.” But Miss Eulalie did not do the Captain justice. One twilight, as she returned from a sick neighbor’s, it gave her a curious shock to see her pretty ward, Isabel Vanghn, talking over the hedge which separated the grounds, to Captain Valentine, who wore a rose in bis button hole. “See, Dear Miss Eulalie,” she cried — “see what a basket of roses Captain Valentine has brought us! And might I go up to the Towers to-merrow with Mrs, Van DuffteseeCaptaimYalentine’s Corot?” Miss Eulalie could hardly refuse— why should she ?—acd Isabel returned iu eestacies with the medieval furniture, the Persian draperies, the wonderful carved ivories the carpets like woodland moss, the Oriental rugs and skins of ant-eaters and tawny Eons. “It is just heavenly,” she said. “It makes home look squalid and mean. It makes me low-spirited to some back. Why did you let me go, Mias . Eulalie? And the elm tree doeeadterfere with his view more or less; bat what of that? He has everything else, He can gallop to the sea in half an hour. Suoh horses! I’ve always longed for a saddle-horse. Captain Valentine has promised to lend me a safe one.” And day after day he kept his word and brought his horses round fox Miss Isabel to try, or left flowers and. fruits that fairly inundated the small house ; or perhaps he gathered the young peo ple together, and gave a fete under his trees, with dancing on the broad veranda hung with festoons of Chinese lanterns; and sometimes Miss Eulalie wes obliged to chaperon Isabel, and sit, a faded wall-flower, in the house of her old suitor. “I wonder why Captain Valentine never married?” said Isabel, after one of tnese fetes. “I wonder how it seems to be so everlasting rich; to have no worry about money; to—’ “Isabel," warned Miss Eulalie, “you care too much for money. There are better things.” “Mention one please.” “You will thru* I am a sentimental old woman, but love is better a thous andfold-” * I don’t know. Love is very nice, bat if you must go without everything else, with oat pretty gowns and jewels and splendor, give me money.” “You are too young to choose. Pretty gowns, jewels, and splendorlose their charm when you axe used to them, bat love outlasts everything. ‘ But Mies Eulahe’s words were wasted. “Hove money,” Isabel confessed; “I adore clothes. I don’t know about love.” Iu spice of ail that had happened. : diss Eulalie was unprepared when sabel uakl to htr: “I’ve something to toll you. I dare say you know it al ready, though. I am going to marry Captain Valentine, and wear cashmeres and sapphires and go abroad, and never have to connt my change again. . Con gratulate me.” ‘You are joking,” cried Miss Eulalie, Then it’s'the best joke in the world! t’s no joke to the otl you.’’ “You are going to marry Captain Val entine? Do you kuow that he is old enough—” “To know better.” “Do you love him, Isabel ?” “I like him well enough. I love his money,’* “Isabel, don’t do it. You will sow to the wind and Yeap the whirlwind. I can’t allow it; the idea of your marry ing him! It is too preposterous, too mercenary. Why, he was onoe a lover of my own,” pursued Mias Eulalie, for getting herself. “Why didn’t you marry him, and save me the trouble?” asked Isabel. But perhaps he was poor then? “It was uot that.” * "What then? You loved somebody else’” “I don’t mind telling yot> now, Isabel. I had another lover—Anson Andrews, I’ve never gotten over ii There have oeen weeks and months when I’ve tried with all my soul to forget him— to unlove him. He and Captain Valen tine sailed together iu the Water Witch, and when Capt Valentine returned he brougnt me all the trinkets and letters I had tent Anson Andrews, but never a Word more.” “You dear old faithful thing! you shall dress in satin de Lyon and thread laoe; we shall live in the lap of luxpry; and I’ll scud word to Ansou Andrews if he is at the farthest Thule. How oddly •things turn out! Fancy my marrying your cast-off lover!” “Isabel, I beg you not to—” “Not to marry Captain Valentine just because I’m not in love? Perhaps I never shall be in love. You would nave me give up so much for more sentiment You mustn’t expect everybody to have as intense feelings as yourself, 1 couldn’t remember a auto fifteen years if he were the Great Mogul himself.” Captain Valentine and laabel were married iu the little parlor of the old house, shaded by the old elm-tree, which made pretty dancing shadows on the wait It was a most informal affair; and when it was over’ and the clergyman has pocketed his fee, and the bride was try-ng on hei traveling hat, Miss $alalie stepped into the gar den to draw a long breath. What were the workmen doing at that hour? “Go into the house, Misa Eulalie,’’ said Captain Valentine. ‘;Iam to celebrate my wedding day. has made me a wedding gift of the old elm-tree, and I’m going to cut it down to bom on the hearth at the Towers, while we look out at the dreary sea.” Miss Eulalie, when you thwart a Valen tine, you do it at your peril. Do you ( think I married Isabel for love? Re venge is sweeter than love. When yon refused to marry me. I swore I would make you repent in dust and ashes.” Miss Eulalie turned silently toward the house, but paused to look back from the door-way. There was a crash, and when a strange blur had cleared away before her eyes, Captain Valentine lay dead beneath a great arm of the tree, which had snapped as it fell. “I feel so awfully wicked,” said Isa bel, some months later, awed and asham ed at finding herself in po?essiou of the coveted wealth without the burdensome conditions. “I’ve been. looking over his papers with Mr. Billings, the execu tor, and we ferreted out this letter, Its from Anson Andrews. I tliougbt it explained something; at any rate you might like to see it. It s dated Austra lia, a year ago.” "D*ab Val.” (Miss Eulalie read,) “Here I am, leagues from home, but possessed with an unquenchable long ing to hear from the old place, and a homesickness which no money can re lieve. Sometimes when I’m smoking in my bungalow, alone, I fancy I am home again under the old elm-tree with Eulalie, still young, with hope in my soul, and presently 1 awake from my day-dream and berate myself soundly for allowing the old wound to throb and ache. Behove me, old boy, in spite of the fifteen years behind us, my bald head, and her double-dealing, I cannot think of her and all I’ve lost without a weight at iRy heart, as a happy witch when shipped in the Water W itch. I’m free to confess I’ve never seen a happy moment since you confided to me that you were going to marry Eulalie. I remember how black you looked when I told yon she belonged to me, and how we then and there swore we would neither of us marry such a heartless jilt! How have you weathered it messmate? And what has happened to the lovers ? Has s he befooled any more true lovers ? Alter all 1 believe that “ ‘My heart would hear her and beat Had it lain for a century dead.” “Write me about her, aud if the old elm-tree, where I kissed her first, is still standing. ‘Our love is not dead, but the tree is alivs.’ No, love is dead; I cannot say it, it smoulders and torments me.” • “Miss Eulalie,” said Isabel, when Eulalie had folded the letter with tremb ling fingers, “there has been a great wrong done. Mr. Billings and I mean to right it. We mean to send word to Anson Andrews; we are going so tell him what an angel you are. We have talked it all over. And about this mon ey—I couldn’t make up my mind to touch a cent of it if I were starving. I shall found a hospital with it. Mr, Billings is to help me. We have talked it all over; I don’t care for splendor any longer; I have found out. Miss Eu- lalie, that love is best.” Whr !>• Eooff PerUhed. Study Tour Market*. The question ot success or failure with most farmers depends upon their know! edge of the markets. Many industrious and ikUifnl farmers fail just at this point. They know how to cultivate crops, but are poor salesmen. They keep in beaten track, and never vary the relative proporaion of meadow, past ure and tillage; seldom try a new crop of seed to improve their breeds of cattle, swine or poultry. Thfcy do not read much, aud seem not to be aware that farming, like ocher pursuits, is iu a transition state, and they most meet new demands or fail in business, ir girls, let me tell I The change is so great from the age of homespun, which closed some fifty years ago, to the present time, that our youn ger readers oah hardly appreciate it. Then almost every thing consumed in a farmer’s family was produced on his own farm, or manufactured under his rqpf. Nearly all table supplies, except sugar, molasses, tea and coffee, were his own raising. The housewife spun and wove not only all her table and bed linen, bat Ml the clothing for her house hold, She made the cotton and to w w.cks and dipped them in tallow, fc. the lights in the dwel ing. Traveling shoemakers made annual supply of boots and shoes. The trade which a farmer had with the outside world was of a very limited character. All this is changed now. No cloth is made in the home’ The spin ning-wheel and loom have long since gone into kindling wood and only the small linen wheel and distaff is pre served ocossionally as a memento of tne thrifty habits of om grandmothers. The farmer has become a purchaser: bays all that he nears, buys much that he eats, aud buys oftentimes his fuel and lights. To meet these new demands, he bas occasion to study the markets to find out what people want iu exchange for the things he must purchase. Espe- oiallv does he need to study the home markets. Tillers ef the low pnoed lands of the south, by aid Of cheap transpor tation, are able to compete with him in wheat, com and other grain, so that he cannot afford to raise them to sell, by the old method at last, though possibly he ean for his own use. H-iy, potatoes and some other articles are so bulky that he has little com petition and can sell them at a piotit. With a knowledge of the markets, and the capacities of the soil, it is not a very difficult matter to ascertain what crops will pay, and what will not. Those who do not study these conditions of success, and cannot tell what any given crop costs, do not know whether it pays or not. We want this knowledge aud must have it if we are to succeed iu business. We must give up some of the old crops as uiisuited to present circumstances, and cultivate those for which we know there is a prof' liable demand. Or an enterprising man can often create a demand far a flratrate article, and thus have a specialty that will return him handsome profit and win him the reputation of being an en terprifliug man. He will at the i time set a* example toother farmers that may benefit (he agricnlturs of a whole neighborhood, or even of a county. “Senator Jones, who is in Oarson, gives an account of De Long’a Arctic expedition, which he got from Oeptain Nerbaum in Sun Francisco. Nerbaum is a Russian who has been for many years in the service of the Alaska Far Company. Ha was the last man from whom the De Long party received pro vision. He says; De Long left my sta tion, at almost the nortkern point of Alaska, and^ furnished him, at the order of the Alaska Fur Company, with sledges dogs and provisions. He took twenty- seven dogs aud one Indian,! account for the loss of the party on the theory that they killed the dogs. ^ Tdonot be ievethat De Long knew Mt/tiring abofr ► the undertaking he was grappling with and was ignorant of the mi ins by which he could move in that region. I see by his diary that there was but one dog left a few days prior to his death. He must have killed the dogs without knowing their great yalue, and when the dogs are gone there is absolutely no hope left The dogs could not have died or been lost. They were killed, the scent of these animals is remarkable and they will detect provisions no matter where they may be. When men in these re gions kill Polar bears and have more meat than they ean keep, they cache the meat, and it sometimes lies in the ice for years until discovered by dogs. The ice is full of tkese places. If you meet an Indian in that region and kill his dog he lies down and dies, considering that the better part of him is gone. Another great oversight was the neg lect to take the right kind of guns. I offered to De Ling a fowling piece made expressly to use in the Arctic seas and calculated to stand the climate. He refused it because he wanted a gun that would kill bears. I explained that he needed guns for birds and not bears. He would uot listen to me, and took Remingten rifles, the weight of which hampered him and were of no use. He must have seen sea fowl flyiug over his head all the time, but could not kill them. The diary says the Indian, after drawing the sledge all day would go out at night and get birds and he kept the- party alive two weeks* Anywhere you eat a hole through the ioe and flesh a light down flsh will swarm, but the par ty had no Ashing tackle. All their chan ces wore Uiiunn «.wa.y •“ ance. I an not saying a word against De Long. I liked him personally, but be was not the man to command the Arctic expedition. The north pole, in my estimation can be reached only by fol lowing up the warm current which flows to the pole, and beyond there is an open sea. Put men in each an expedition who have been raised iu the northern part of Alaska and who know all about the region and there is a stymg ohanoe Is Forests ot Stone. FOOD FOR THOUGH1. of success. Lambor Region on tue Kusuan R ver. The mouth of the nver, when we had gone near enough to have a good view of it from a headland, made a very noble picture. The green hills, on the south, slope gradually to a well-turfed base, hiding the beach, but showing a long sand-spit running oat almost across the very entrance of the little bay, be hind which are calm shallows. The northern headland, on the other hand, stands in bold outline—a point of sheer cl ff jatting between the ocean and the river. Yet the charge of those waves rolling from the spicy archipelagos of the great South Sea, or from the bleak coast of Tartary, is met, not by this mole, but by an outer row of gigantic isolated rooks, overtopping the tide as the stones of Caraao rear their heads above the level plain, and the imagina tion ean easily believe some giant of old, more powerful than tne Dnuds, to have planted them there as a breakwater guarding the harbor. Aronnd their base curls the angry foam of swift-charg ing, impotent breakers, and they glory in the snowy oloads of spray that envel op their flanks, for thus the rage of the mightiest of oceans is proved ineffectual, and the tamed waves sink behind them into sullen peace upon the weedy shore. Such was the broad landscape of the region where we cast our lot these pleas ant June days, and watched the cutting of the big trees. Tradition says that credit for the very first attempt to make lumber with a saw in this region (tor the Russians hewed all their beams and planks) belongs to Jo tin Dawson, of Bodega. Dawson was one of three sailors wno abandoned their ship at San Francisco as early as 1830, preferring the free and easy life of tne Californians. In two or three years they became citizens under the Mexican government, and took up granted ranefies hereaway, Dawson many ing the daughter of a Spanish dragoon officer. She was only fourteen when she went to Eve as mistress of the Canada de Pogolome, and only seven teen when she found herself the richest widow m Northern California. Daw son’s lumber was cutover pits by means of a rip-saw. which he handled without help. Not half a century later steam mills in this district are turning ont two hundred thousand feet of lumber daily. “I had a queer experience once,” a gen tleman who had been examining the col lection of trees and wood in the old arsenal building, Central Park, said, “and these liard woods remind me of it. 1 was pros pecting in Arixona with a party of friends, and we had rough luck. We had a young Irishman as cook that 1 had picked up in Omaha, who was worth more than any ten men 1 ever saw in keeping up the spirits of the crowd. The lower the pro visions the more jovial he was, and I’m hanged if he didn’t seem to have the blues one day when* we shot s bear and were on the edge of starvation. One day when be had been out picking up wood for a fire h# came to me and said: ‘fieggin’ yer pardon, Master Tom. but av it’s all the same I’d lolkt to take the ba k track.’ , “ ‘What’s the trouble?’ I asked. “ ‘It moight be that I be afraid sv gst- tid* so fat I couldn’t walk back, but it isn’t,’ said he solemnly, ‘But did ye ever hear tell o’ the shtory av Ara-bayan Noights? Sorter the tooiiue Tve heard Father Clineby relate it in the ould coun- thry. It's all about a counthry where the men, women and childer turned to stone. 1 always took it to be « joke, tbe results av too much lamin’, but not a bit when we’ve struck the sehsame place. Ye laugh, is it? Cast yer eye on that,’ and he held out a perfect limb of a tree of bard, solid rocs, while in the other hand he had a large petrified oyster. ‘Why, that’s petrified wood,’ I ex- claim* d. ‘Yes,’ rejoined Pat, ‘and we’ll all be in the same fix if we kape on. I’m for the bagk trail.’ “It was a long time before we could make him understand the situation. But U was a curious sight. We had camped on tne edge of a forest that had actually turned to stone. All about were the great stumps that at first we had taken for stones, but found, on closer examination, to be trees turned into stone. Some were fiat on the ground, others broaen into hundreds of pieces, while all around were bones aud shells all turned to stone also, flow long they had been tnere no one knows. ” Stone forests are in many parts of tbe world. A number of stony trees have been recently received at the Smithsonian Institute from the West. In many cases they are hardened by the peculiar atmos phere as they stand, and in others they are buried, the pans being replaced by min eral matter. The Little Colorado River in Arizona has long been a famous locality for such finds. At one place more than 1,600 cords of trunks and sections of logs wers found by Government surveyors. Most of them were silicifled. Many are seven feel or more in diameter and from twenty to seventy 'eel in height. The greater part of them have probably been covered in tbe marl that originally was 100 feet thick. Some of the trees are tu jaspai, awtuunug numerous hues, while others resemble opal, and, when broken open, the core is often found lined with crystals of the most beautiful tints. Louisiana and Uhio are noted local ities for fossil trees, in the former State several yean ago, in turning up the ground, an ancient forest layer was un earthed, and iu succession two others be low it; and scientists judge, from the state of the trees, that from the time of the first layer to tbe last fifty thousand years must have elapsed, iu tbe re mains of the gla cial drill in Ohio old forests are often dis covered. Some have been buried beneath the water by the sinking of the land. Some of the Ohio trees are not entirely changed into stone, being yet soft, while others are found in all stages from rock to porous sponge matter. In some parts of the island of Anti gua, one ot the British leeward group, there are most remarkable examples of stone forests. The trees are in many in stances of great size, presenting a curious sight with living birds perched upon their leafless and stony limbs. The fossil palms are the most remark able of all these stony forms. They gen erally have a cylindrical stem, rising to a great height, crowned with a canopy of foliage that stands tipnn the rock in high relief. Home wonderful stone forests have been unearthed by the workers in the building stone quarries of the Isle of Portlaua. from which comes the famous building stone. The workmen had cut down to what they termed a dirt bed, and suddenly came to the stpny forest standing upright. There were hundreds of trees a few feet apart. The tops appeared to have been renched off, nut many were forty leet in height. Ou some of fee limbs were tbe delicate atoms, and her* and there leaves and twigs. In Van Dieman’s Land simi lar forests are known, the great trunks be calcified and partly sihclfied, while others are changed into chalcedony. They were found in moat cases erect, with the bran ches and limbs scattered about their roots. Ho natural were many of these that newly arrived laborer sent out to collect wood brought in a load, complaining ol its heanness. They are used, however, be ing burned for lime. A Fin* Cum*. ■ going Isabel The Notre Dame University, at South Bend, lad,, is to have the finest dome in the country exeapt that of tue Oapitol at Washington, It will be 200 leet high, and the statue surmounting it will be illuminated at night by an ellipse ot electric jets. The materiel will be iron and the cost is ecamated at |25, 000 to 180,000. Pro/. M W. Harrington refers to two kinds- ot changes on the moon's surtace which may be regarded as fairly establish ed. The first is tbe landslide, which is doubtless caused by the great alteratiaos of temperature to which the moon is sub ject. Many of these slides may be easily recognized with good telescopes. The second form ot change is illustrated by enters which have been proven te be differ ent in siee and shape from what they were recorded by earlier observers. Many oth er changes have been suspected, but they are of a more uncertain and doubtfnl char acter. On# of our best and most cautious sci entific-journals, basing its opinion mainly on the report of the American Consul at La Rochelle regarding the use ade In France of German alcohol taken f: pm po tatoes, which is doctored to resemble bran dy an color and flavor, says that “it is at least worth the physicians while to know that there is no such thing as pure Cognac now.” * On the first Monday in October, 1868; the international Electrical Conference, lately sitting in Pans for about two weeks will meet sgaln. There was not a suffi cient concord of opinion to fix the numer ical value of the “ahm” in the mercer ical column. A standard of light for workiag purposes was coaitueiod to be that emitted by a square centimetre of melting plan- Lie not for any consideration. The love of display which results in vulgar ostentation, is the result of sel fishness. No joy is ever given freely forth that does not have quick echo in the giver’s own heart. The surest way to make ourselves agreeable to others is by seeming to think them so. Nature goes on her own way; all that to us seems au exception, is really ac cording to order. Always be as witty as you can with your parting bow—your last speech is the one remembered. The trouble and worry and wear and tsar that comes from hating people makes hating unprofitable. In the calendar of happinees, time is reckoned in minutes; in that of unhap piness, it is reckoned in days. We judge ourselves by what we feel capable of doing, while others judge us by what we have already done. If you can count the sunny and cloudy days of the whole year, you will find that the sunshine predominates. A coward boasting of his courage may deceive strangers, but he is a laugh ing-stock to those who know him. Good qnalities are the substantial riches of the mind; but it is good breed ing that sets them off to advantage. To possess a superior education, without natural ability, is to have a quiver full of arrows without a bow. Truth ir a good dog, but beware of barking too dose at the heels of error, lest you get your brains kicked out. To be perfectly just is an attribute of the divine nature; to be so to the utmost of our abilities, is the glory of man. Poetry is the blossom and fragrance of allhuman knowledge,human thoughts, human passions, emotion, language. Christian forbearance can a great deal better be shown when you are on top ot a man than when is on the top ef you. A crowd is not company, and faces are but a gallery of pictures, and talk but a tinkling cymbal, when there is no love. As pure and fresh country air gives vigor to the system, so do pure amt fresh thoughts tend to invigorate the mind. Every great example of punishment has in it some justice, but the suffering individual is compensated by the public good, When a misfortune happens to a friend, look forward and endeavor to prevent the same thing from happening to yourself. Men may otten stoop to folly or even crime with impunity, if they possess sufficient weath to purchase silt nee aud stitle opposition. Bad temper is its own scourge. Few things are bitterer than to feel bitter. A man’s venom poisons himself mote tuan his victim. Truthfulness is a corumMjpne in character, and if it be tirtn^iaid in youth, tnere will never alter be a weak spot in the foundation, We look at the one little woman’s lace we love, as we look at the face of our mother earth, and see all sorts of answers to out own yearnings. Self-love is at once the most delicate and most tenacious of our sentiments; a mere nothing will wound it, but there is nothing on earth will kill it. Help others and yon relieve yourself. Go out and drive that cloud away fr om that distressed friend’s brow, and you will return with a fighter heart. Many a small man is never done talk ing about the sacrifices he makes, but lie is a great man indeed who can sacri fice everything and say nothing. Leniency will operate with greater force, in some in|tancus, than rigor. It is, therefore, my wish to have my whole conduct distinguished by it, Though wi cannot create favorable circumstances, we can, at least, refuse to join the envious throng that bark at the heels of their more fortunate fellows. None are so fond of secrets as those who do not mean to keep them; they covet a secret as the spendthrift oovsts money, merely that they may circulate it. Use despatch. Remember that the world only took six days to create. Ask me for whatever you please except time; that is the only thing which is beyond my power. With love, the heart becomes a fair and fertile garden, with sunshine and warm hues, and exhaling sweet odors; but without it, it is a bleak desert cov ered with ashes. Society is the offspring of leisure; and to acquire this forms the only rational motive for aooumulatiug wealth, not withstanding the cant tnat prevails on the subject of labor. To think we are able is almost to be so; to determine upon attainment is frequently attainment itself. Thus earnest resolution has often seemed to have about it almost a savor of omnipo- tenoe. To be beautiful we must feed the spark of intellectual fire, by reading sad meditation, until it boras in a steady flame, irridiatiug tbe face by its brilliancy, suffusing the countenance with delight. The love of man to woman is a thing common, and of course, at first par takes more of instinct and passion than of choise; but true friendship between man and man is infinite and immortal. Nature has left every man a capacity of being agreeable, though not of shin ing in company, and there are a hun dred men sufficiently qualified for both, who, by a very few faults that they might correct in half an hour, are not so much as tolerable. Ae tbe blade of wheat whilst on- grown and empty holds Itself proudly up, bat so soon ns the ear is filled with grain bends humbly down, so is wisdom end worth modest and unas suming, whilst ignorance and folly is forward and presuming, 1876. 1882. F. W. HABENICHT, Proprietor of the 'N I respectfully call the attention of tbe public to my superior facilities for sup plying everything Ik my line, of superior quality. Starting business In Wfims- boro in I have in all this time given tbe eloeet attention to my busi ness and endeavored to make my estab lishment FIRST- CL ASS in every par ticular, I shall in the future, as in the past., hold myself ready to serve my customers with the best articles that can be procured in any market. I shall stand ready, also, to guarantee every article I sell. I invite an Inspection of my stock of Wines, Liquors, Tobacco, Cigars, etc. F. W. HABENICHT. IMPORTED. Scotch Whiskey (Ramsey’s). • A. Bin Lanbert and Marat Cognas Brandy. Jamaica Rum. Rotterdam Fish Gin. Ross’s Royal Ginger Ale. Jules Mumm Sc Co.’s Champagne. Cantrel Sc Cochran’s Ginger Ale, Apollinaris Mineral Water. Angnstora Bitters. Old Sherry Wine. Old Port Wine. DOMESTIC. Ginger Ale. Soda Water. Sarsaparilla. Old Cabinet Rye Whiskey. Old Schuylkill Rye Whiskey. The Honorable Rye Whiskey. o-.a «vnw/u Vjiam A*JO niilSaUJ, Renowned Standard Rye Whiskey. Jesse Moore Vollmer Rye Whiskey, Old N. C. Sweet Mash Com Whiskey, Old Stone Mountain Corn Whiskey. Western Com Whiskey. Virginia Mountain Peach Brandy. New England (French’s) Rum. North Carolina Apple Brandy. Pure Blackberry Brandy. Pure Cherry Brandy. Pure Ginger Brandy. Boston Swan Gin. SUNDRIES. Rook and Bye. Osceola Bitten. Hot tetter's Bitters. Bergner Sc Engel’s Lager Beer, In patent stopper bottles and on draught, New Jersey Sweet, Sparkling Cider. loin, Rook Sc Bye, Lawrence k Martin. Stoughton Bitten. Rock and Cora. Cigars and Tobacco Syndicate Cigar, 5 cents. The Huntress Cigar, 2| cents. Madeline Cigar—All Havana—10 cents. Don Carlos (Nub)—all Havana—10 cent# Minerva Cigar—Havana filler—6 cents. Cheek Cigar—Havana filler—6 cents. Our Boast Cigar—Havana filler—6 oents * Lucky Hit Cigar—Havana filler—5 cents. The Unionm Self-Lighting Cigarette, (Amber mouth-piece to every ten packages.) -9 The Pickwick Club Cigarette, {Shook mouth-nieces.) The Richmond Gem Cigarette, (Light smoking.) Tie only Billiari aiii Pool Par- in Toys. Ini’ 1U1 ICE! ICE! ICE! An abundance always on hand for the u .e of my customers. I wii also keep a supply of FISH, OYSTERS, &C., for my Restaurant, which is always open from the first of September to the first of April I shall endeavor to please all who give me a call Very respectfully, F. W. HABENICHT. OPPOSITE POSTOFFCE.