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* r - TRI-WEEKLY EDITION. WINNSBORO. S. (1. FEBRUARY 1. 1883. ESTABLISHED 1847 r $4' ') * k<if ft fTv OLO TIMES. Tii« re’» a b«aatlful song on the slumbrous air That drills through the valley of dreams; It comes from a ellme where the roses were, And a tuneful heart, and bright brown hair That waves in the morning beams. Soft eyes of aznre, ami eyes of brown, And snow-white foreheads are there, A glimmering cross and a glittering crowu. A thorny bed and a conch of down, Lost hoi>es and leaflets of pray< r. A rosy leaf and a dimpled hand, A ring and a plighted vow; Three golden rings on a broken hand, A tiny track on the snow white saud, A tear and sinless brow. There’s a tincture of grief In the beautiful song That sobs on the summer air, And loneliness felt lt> the festive throng Sinks down In the soul as It trembles along Prom a clime where the roses are. We heard It flrst at the dawn of day. And it mingles with matin chimes; But years have distanced the beautiful lay, And its melody floweth so swiftly away, And we call It now “Old Times.” THK LEAF OP QEB> NHJM. it is very strange, wneu we oome to think of it, on what small cogs and pivots the wheels of fate ran, and what a slight ]ar will do towards changing the whole machinery and set it to run ning in an entirely different direction. It was a gerarinm leaf that altered the whole course of roy life. Bat for the trivial -kaf picked by a yonng girl in a thoughtless mood I should not be sit ting here to-day in this pleasant dining room. where the snn comes in through the vine-wreathed windows nnd falls upon the geranium pots inside ; and this little girl would not be upon my knee, nor yonder red-cheeked maiden on the verandah with yonng Smithers ; and neither would that very handsome matron wbo jnst passed into the parlor have been in her present situation. If you will listen an hour or so, I will tell you jay story. It was just twenty years ago this summer that I married Carrie Dean. She was twenty- one and I was twenty-seven—l>oth old enough to know what we meant and what we were about—at least I was, but Came was such a coquette that I used to think she had no mind of her own. Oh, but she was lovely 1 All rose colored and white and brown tressed, and pearly teethed, with the roundest, plumpest figure, as graceful as a fairy in every movement, and with beautiful, shapely hands that were a constant de light to the eyes. I was just home from college and she was on a visit tor my stepmother, her aunt, and my half sister Lilia, and her oot»-in. I have seen a good many girls- in my seven years at college, and some of the belies of the land ; but 1 bad never yet had my heart stirred by any woman’s eyes as Carrie Dean stirred it when my eyes met hers in greeting ; and the touch of her Foft fingers completely set me afloat on the sea of love, I was her slave from that hour—not her slave, either, but her passionate lover and worshipper. And of course she knew it, and of course, being a finished coquette, she queened it over me right royally. 'there was Fred Town, the country physician, and Tom Delano, the hand some young farmer, both as badly off as I was ; and a pretty time we bad of it. Fred and I—old chums in former days—were at swords’ points now, and hated each other splendidly for a few weeks. And Tom I held in the utmost contempt, and railed at them both when ever opportunity presented itself, for Carrie’s edification, after the manner of men, and was repaid by seeing her bestow her sweetest smiles and glances upon them the next time they met. Fred drove a splendid spau of bays, and almost every day they dashed np the avenue, and dashed out again with Miss Carrie's added weight. And Tom was on hand nearly every evening, and she was just as sweet to one as the other, and just the same to me ; and that was what maddened me. I was not to be satisfied with •‘widow’s third” by any means, and told her so at last, and asked her how the mutter was to be settled. "1 love you better than those brain less fops know how to love,’’ I said, hotly ; “snd now decide between us. Hue bad listened to my love confes sion with blushing cheeks and dc wu cast eyes; but when I said this she turned defiantly on me. '•They are no more fops than you are,” she said, *‘even if they have not spent seven years in college They are gentlemen and l can’t say that for every man of my acquaintance.” And here she snut the door between us with a slam and left me Ao my pleas ant meditations,'and half an hour later I met her at the gate with Fred, goiug out for a ride, which was very aggrava ting, I must coulees. 1 thought over my conduct that night, and concluded that I had been a brute. The next morning 1 louud Carrie at the dining-room window alone and sought her side. She had her hand among the leaves of a sweet-scented geranium, and just as I approached she plucked a leaf and twined it amt ng her braids. Ire- member how bnght and green it looked among the dark tucks. ‘•Currie,” I began, “I fear I was very lude yesterday.’’ “I know you were,” she said, looking mdifiereutly out of me widow. This was a bad begiuniug, but I went on : “But, Carrie, 1 love you so, aud when I see you with that Fred—” But here Miss Garne turned on her heel. “1 am not going to listen to you while jou slander my friends,” she said. “When you can speak respect fully of Mr. Town, 1 will return and here she left me again. 1 left the house then, and did not re turn till afternoon. As i oome up the £ ath I met Tom Delano. Poor leilow, • koked like the lust rose of summer after a rain, “tteed'bye,” ha said, gloomily j 'Tm geing away, ftha has sent me off; and I can t stay in the place. I hope you | are tbe happy one—I do, honestly, Al, She said her heart was given to another, and it’s either you or Fred. I hope it is you, and God bless you 1” Here Tom dashed away and left me staring after him in amazement. “Given her heart to another I” I re peated, with a pain in my cheat soma- where. “Well, it is evident that I am not the other, and that Fred is. Poor Tom —poor me 1 The beat thing I can do is to follow suit and leave too. 1 can never see her the wife of another, and the sooner I am off the better." So I went moodily up to my room and packed a satchel, and got all things in readiness for a speedy departure. On my way up I met Came ju»t emerging from li^r room, arrayed in her jaunty riding liabit, and I could hear Fred’s deep tones shouting “Whoa!’ down in the yard below- I watched her trip down the stairs and out of sight, thinking that it was the last time I should see her for years, perhaps forever. When I had strapped the last buckle on my satchel and all was iu readiness, I went down to say good-bya to father, mother and Lilia. Lilia was not in doors, and my parents looked at me in amazement. “But, Allen, my son,’’pleadedfather, “I had thought you would enter into business with me. There is a grand opening for you, and I have held the position in reserve.” *T thank you for all that, but I want to travel a year or two before going in to busiuess,” was all I could answer ; and my father gave up in despair. Lilia was still absent ; but it was quite dark, and the train would leave iu ball an hour, so I left a “good-by” for her, and passed out into the hall. It was a long, narrow hall, reaching the whole length of the house, and with several rooms opening into it ; but as yet it was unJighted and as dark as Egypt. About half-way through it I heard the stieet door open and shut, and a moment later ran full against some one entering. ‘ It is Lilia,” I thought, and reaching out my arms caught her between them. ‘ Is it you, Lilia ?” I said. But she did not answer, only twined her two arms about my neck. “Why, little sister,” I said softly, “do you love me so much ?” For Lilia was vot demonstrative as u usual thing, aud I was surprised at her movement. “On, better than all the world beside, Allen 1” she said in a whisper. And then, as I lifted the face to my lips, the sweet odor of geranium per fumed the air, aud my heart gave a great leap. It was Carrie, not Lilia, whom I held in my arum 1 She was trvinar tn ditumaaau LuiuuUf now, but 1 suddenly caught her light form in my two stout arms, aud, open ing the library door, I cairied her into the briLiautiy lighted room. Her face was hot with blushes now, and her eyes lull of tears. ‘You are too bad,” she sobbed, “and I hate you l” But just then she noticed my travel ling ature and paused abruptly. •Why, where are you going?” she asked with interest. “I was going away, never to return ” I answered; “nut since you said what you uid in the hail I have changed my miud.” Carrie pouted. ‘T was only speaking for Lilia. '* “Then I shall go, shall I, aud leave you to marry Fred ?” “I detest Fred,” she cried. “And you love me better than all the world ?” “Yes.” So toat flirt was conquered at last and I was the victor. “But how did you know it was not Lillu?” she naked as vo sat together. “By the geranium leal that I saw you put in your hair this morning.’’ “Auu hut for that you would have gone away and not oome hack tor years?” “Yes, perhaps never come back, but for that tell-tale leaf.” “Theu we will keep this leaf always,” she said, taklug it horn her hair. Aud so we have. 1 procured a gold en box, aud there it is to day one oi our dearest treasures. Of course I married Carrie, aud ol course that blooming matron is she. Tom Delano did not die ol a broken heart, but married a lovely girl out West a few months alter his departure; aud Fred Town is our family physician and has a pretty wife of his own. ■5-— YVnlte House Dinners. Slowly llecoveriiig. “Sir I” cried a well-dressed man whose face woe purple with auger, as he walked up with head erect to another citizen on C street Virginia City, re cently. “Sir, I understand you have been speaking of me as a fraud and liar.” “Well,” responded the person ad dressed—a man with a yellow sack coat aud a big slouch Lat, who was leaning against an awning post, “that's as true as gospel. I think you arc a liar and a fraud if ever there was one.” “You do?” cried the other, growing pale and gritting his teeth, “You do> eh?” “Yes, I do, and don’t yon forget it.” “In that case,” retorted the well- dressed man, speaking with concentra ted ferocity, “I must request you to consider yourself no longer on my list of exchanges,” aud turning upon his heel he strode away. The man with the yellow sack-coat tottered into the nearest saloon, and at last accounts was slowly recovering. — Twenty-seven v?t jaen working in a chain gang were a sad sight at Atlanta. —A New Englander pat an owl in his ovilar to catch rats, and the rata ate the owl. —Count Fits James, of France, a di rect deseendant cf Charles U, is keep- fag house In Washington. Speaking of invitations to dinners in Washington, President Arthur, whose dinner parties wilt begin soon after N^w Year, will use the same atyle of invitation as last year, which was on a large card and read: The President requests the honor of the company of , at dinnar on— Thuraday was the usually the day of the week he chose last year for his dinners which was the day Washington preferred when President. 1 have before me, says a writer, copies which I have made from the original invitations of several Presi dents. First, of course, comes one of Generai Wasbingtor ’a This I have copied from one in the possesssion of Mr. J. C. W. Kennedy, whose grandfather, Major El liott, was one of the engineers who laid out this city. The invitation reads: Tbe President of tbe United States and Mrs Washington tequest the pleasure of Company to dine on——next at 4 o'clock. , 179—. An answer is requested. Mr. F.Jimore, while President, had one style of invitation on note-paper and an other on a large card. Sometimes Mrs. Fillmore’s name appeared with his and sometimes not. One style was worded: The President requests the favor of —’s company at dinner on Thursday next at 5 o’clock. Ao answer is respectfully requested. Another style used by him substituted tbe word honor for favoi. One of Mr. Bu chanan’s, which Judge Black’s daughter, Mrs. Hornsby) has, reads much the same as Mr. Fillmore’s: The President requests the honor of liss Black’s company at dinner on Friday January the 8 h, al 0 o’clock. An early answer is reqested. General Grant’s dinner in vial ions gen erally read ‘'the President and Mrs. Grant request the honor of,” etc., but when they gave the reception in honor of the King of the Sandwich Islands, the invitations were worded: The President of tbe United States re quests the compiny of at the recep- lion in honor ot his Majesty, the King of the Hawaiian islands o>) Thursday evening December 18ih at 9 o’clock. This is tbe o dy invitation of a President which 1 have found, except that of Gene ral Washington, where the form “Presi dent of the United States’is used. As has been mentioned, General Washington invited gue-ts to dinner at four o’clock, Mr. Fillmore at five o’clock and Mr. Bu- cnanan at six o’clock. President Grant's and those of President Hayes were at 7 o'clock, while for ail that President Ar thur had last winter hall past seven was tbe hour named and the dinner usually liegan at elgnt. General Washington's invitations were gotten up in a very fine style for that era, out he frequently, as 1 find from the writ ings of his contemporaries, extended v;r- hal taxxixa-t■-» y»»«»*■ >^pn r t^ iU one cf his secretaries, to “official charact ers, members of Uongres, strangers or citi zens of distinction.” John Adams, when consulted by V\ ubhh g'on as to rules of etiquette soon after the.r inauguration, recommended this and said that ‘such in vitations should always be extended with out formality.’’ Nevertheless it was con sidered during the very flist year of Wash ington’s administration a mark ot his fa vor when any one received an invitation to dine with him and an intimation that the course of a public man had excited his displeasure when no such invitation was tendered. For instance, benator Maclay wrote De cember 16, 1789, that Mr. Izard gave him “clear hints ol bis loss ot character at court and of the direct influence of the President with members of Congress,” in stanced in extending invitations to them. Maclay had lost favor because he wanted votes by ballot in the Benaie on Washing- ton’s nominations, and Senator Izard told him that all the other Senators had been to dine with the great man. A week later. Washington attended a session of the Sen ate iu person, accompanied by General Knox, the Secretary of War, to advise with the Senate about a treaty with In dians, and tne day of his second visit to that body Senator Maclay was called out by the doorkeeper to speak to Colonel Humphreys, one of tha President’s house hold, and was by the latter verbal ly invi ted to dinner with tbe President on the following Thursday at four o’clock, that being Monday. Senator Maclay writes: “I really was surprised at the invitation. It will be my duty to go; however, I will make no inferences whatever. I am con vinced all the dinners ho can now give or ever could, will make no difference In my conduct.’’ “When the dinner occurred the com pany were President aud Mrs. Adams, the Governor aud his wife, Mr. Jay (Chief Justice) aud wife, Mr. Dalton and a lady, perhaps his wife, aud Mr. Smith, Basset and Maclay, Lear and Lewis, the Presi dent and Mrs. W ashington sat opposite each other in tbe middle of the table. This custom has always been followed at a dinner given by a Prlsicent who has % wife, but I presume few know how far t«ck tbe precedent for It goes. The two secretaries, Lear and Lewis, each sat at one end ot the table. It was a great din ner and the best of the kind 1 ever sat at. Tue room, however, was disagreeably warm.” This w.as in August. President Arthur has revolted against following this prece dent, tbcugbt It is the general complaint that other host or hostesses here do have their rooms, even in winter, too warm. I heard President Arthur last win'er when giving orders, just before one ol his din ners was ready, to open tne windows and cool the bouse. He added, laughingly, turning to another lady and myself: “There is an engineer here who has been so ac customed to overbeating the rooms that, having remonstrated in vain,l feel tempted to order him to be slam and bia body thrown in ilk) river. But a man cannot do everytDing he wants, even if he is President. ” To return to Washington’s dinner, tbe writer of the description continues: “First was soup, fish, roasted and boiled meats, gammou, fowls, etc. This was tbe dinner. The middle of the table was garnished in the usual tasty way with small images, flowets (artificial), etc. The desert was first apple pies, puddings, etc.; then iced creams, jelhes, etc,; then watermelons, musk-melons, apple, nuts. It was tbe taken away. Then the President, taking a glass of wine, with great formality drank the health ot every individual by name 'round the table. Everybody Imi'ateil him—charged glasses, and such a buzz of •health, sir,’ and ‘health, madam,’ and •thank you, madam,’ never had heard be fore.” “The ladies sat a good while and the bottle passed about, but there was a dead silence almost. Mrs. Washington at last withdrew with the ladies. I expected the men would begin, but the same stillmss remained. The President told of a New England clergyman who bad lost a hat and wig in passing a nver called tbe Brunks. He smiled and everybody else laughed. He now and then said a sentence or two on some common subject, and what he said was not amiss. The President kent a fork in his band when the cloth was token away, I thought for the purpose of pick ing nuts. tie eat no ruts, but played with the ferk, striking on tbe edge of the table with It We did net sit long after the ladies retired. Tbe President rose, went up stairs to drink coffee—the com pany followed.” This precedent wf>s fol- lowed at President year. Arthur’s dinners 1)1 Fancy Artlulea. Brisk*. moel solemn dinner ever I tinues Maclay. “Not an health drank, •aareely a word aald, until the doth Fancy wares, and the hew and pretty things in what may be called secondary jewelry that is small articles in silver and enameled or filigree wares that take fancy forms, are almost uniformly pro duced this season in some shapes of in sect or animal life. Sporting men and women find inkstande, table-lamps, can dle-sticks, pen-raoks, paper-weights, watch-stands, table-bells, and many other things, all manufactured from hoofs so finely prepared, and so beau tifully mounted with colored metals and silver as to be at onoe artistic and highly ornamental. One of the hand somest novelties of this description con sists of hoofs forming the centre to a tripod, the double wax lights of the lamp burning clear under exquisite Venetian glass shades. This lamp costs frem $120 to $200. A new form of pen- rests is a rustic garden seat made iu olive wood, and furnished with ponhol- holders, paper-knife and the like. Scon ces, or candle brackets, are no longer backed with mirrors but with brass plaques, chased, or worked in repousse. Brass ornaments are one of the great desiderata; a brass clock and small candelabra for side-pieces, or portrait plaques ol Bill tens, or Moliero, orBem- braudt, or Schiller for the hall. The cost of the first is beyoud all but the rich, a fine brass cloct with side-pieces being worth from $250 to $500, but the plaques are more pet»t-.Ecra, oouw pr a moderate size may be purchased for $25, though the average is $50. The imitations of Benares brass turned out by machinery, are of course much cheaper, but we are speaking now of genuine hand-wrought articles. Brass burners, chandeliers and oandle-sticks, brass fenders and gra e fixtures, aud brass clocks and plaques revive the burnished glories ol the past, but require an amount of labor which the poor have not time to perform, and which the rich only can afford to pay for; so, naturally, the use is somewhat limited. What is not brass is plush now-a- days, and still fashionable are the plush- covered frames which amateurs have found so convenient for exerciuing their brushes upon. But even here the new craze asserts itself. Instead of apple blossoms, an owl sits in the corner look ing wise, or a small cockatoo is perched upon a rustic branch. The sides of the frames of pictures or small beveled mir rors are uot equal, but much broader at the foot aud off side than upon the other, and it is upon the off side that the bird or other decoration is placed. The plash bag, or pouch, has become an institution. The bag is satin-lined and sometimes leather mounted; it is more durably finished than the pouch, and is carried iu the hand. The pouch is suspended from the side, and forms a part of the looping of a dress; it may be of leather, bat is often of embroiu ered satin or covered with a network of pearls ever silk. Velvet pouches, with engraved silver clasps aud chatelaine to suspend it from the side, are sold as jewelry, and are sometimes set with precious stones, though usmlly ■ the mounting is of wrought silver only. These cost from $85 to $50, aud up ward. Jewelry, unitss it is very rich, is now almost whooly confined to a fancy laee pin and earrings, to serpentine brace lets, aud one or two bangle rings. The new pins are simple, but odd. The bar ia a solid silver pin with enlarged head, which serves as a perch lor snail, a beetle, a tiny bird or a small row of flies. There is a small sunflower brooch which is very pretty, with i bee upon it; but these designs are easi ly coarsened and made common-look ing by being executed In au inferior manner and with very cheap materials. A new flower series in lace pins has the charm of especial sentiment at tached to each one; us woodbine, friend ship; fern,sincerity; primrose, youthful affections, and periwinkle, remem brance. Tfle novelties in bracelets are the He lene, which is self-holding, and consuls of a flexible coil which fastens itself to the aim; a shopping bracelet with pencil attached, and one of woven wire which also coils around the arm, aud takes the place of the serpent bracelet. Email articles of real ivory, or shell, make charming presents to persons ot refinement who cannot afford such pur chases, aud a fan never comes amiss to a lady. Tne three kinds ol Ians most approved are the rich feather funs with pearl or tortoise shell, or amber sucks; the fans ot clear point lace, with gold wrought stioks, on ivory, pearl or ooq. amber} and the fans painted on satin ‘by retd artists and mounted in accord ance with their ecet The use of erica aa a ouudmg material, both burnt and unburnt, dates from a very early period. Burnt brick ia recorded in the Bible to have be»n used in the erection of the Tower of Babel. We have the tes timony of Bcrodotua to the effect that burnt bricks were made from the city thrown cut of the treuches surrounding Babylon, Htutenien's of travelers show that the Babylonian brick is very much like a tile, being from 12 to 13 inebes square, and 8} inches thick. Most of them bear tbe name inscribed in cunei form (f Nebuchadnezzar, whose buildings no doubt replaced those of an earlier age. They were tetnttimes glazed and enam eled in various colors. Semiramus is said by Diodorus to have overlafd some of her towerf with surfaces of enameled bricks. Sun-dried bricks were exclusively used in afieient times, especially in Kgvpt, where the manufacture was considered a most degrading employment, and as such formed the principal part of the occupation of the Inf-ehtee during tbeir bondage, alter the cliath of Joseph. These Egyptian sun* dried bricks were made of clay mixed with chopped straw, which was furnished 1 it the children of Israel by their Egyptian > taskmasters before tbe application of Moses to Pharaoh in their behalf. After tnis the obligation was put upon them to furnish their own straw, which appears to have been 1 ke the last straw upon the camel’* back—too much to be borne. It appears from the details given that the Israelites worked in gangs under the superintendence of one of their own na tion, who was provided with all the nec essary tools, and then held personally res ponsible for the labors of his men. Some Egyptian bricks were made without straw, and are now found aa perfect as on the day when they were put up, in the region of Amonopohs and Thotmes, whose names they bear. When made of Nile mud they needed straw to keep them together, but when formed of clay taken from the tor rent beds on the edge of the desert they held together without aid. Among the paintings at Thebes, cne on tbe tomb of BekShata, an offleer of the court of Thot mes HI (B. C. 1400) represents the en forced labors cf captives, wbo are distin- gmahed from the natives by the colors with which they are drawn. Watching over the laborers are the, ‘taskmasters,” who armed with sticks, ‘ are receiving the “Ule of bricks’’ and urging on tbe work. The process of dig- gimr out the clay, of moulding and of arranging, are ail duly represented. The process of manufacture in Egypt was very similar to that adopted at the present time in that country. The clay was brought in baskets from the Nile, thrown into a heap, thoroughly saturated with water, aud worked to a proper temper by the teet of the laborers. This appears to have been done entirely by the (light-colored) cap- lives, the (red) Egyptian shunning *11:6 work which must have been oppressive nmi Mn yrhol aQrvatQ na u, mate; Tneclay when tempered was cut Hospitality in a C-iacho vill ore. For the last two miles our journey led through a dense forest, and it was nec essary to march in single file so narrow was the path. We soon, however, no ticed that we were approaching a clearing and no sooner, scarcely, had this fact dawned through our minds, than the village was presented to our astonished eyes. It consisted of about two hun dred huts and around each of the huts were a number of dogs, all of whom came forward in a body and made such a horrible din with their yelping as would give one a very fair idea of Pandemo nium. In the centre of the village stood a hut much larger than the rest, sur rounded by quite a pretty garden. Dif fering from its neighbors, the entrance was large enough for a man to enter walking erect and wes possessed of a door. There were several “bull's-eye” windows, evidently the remains of some unfortunate vessel, while over the outer walls of the hut vines had been trained and now covered them with a mantle of the most beautiful greeu. This was the residence of the Indian chief. A finely formed aud intelligent- looking Degrees opened the door of the hut for our ad mittance, and in broken Enghs bade us welcome. The interior of the dwelling appeared almost as strange as the ex terior snrronndings, and its equipment was a sort of cross between a ship’s cabin aud a native hut. It was sepa rated into two apartments, a palm-leaf matting separating the two rooms. On the walls were hung a number of articles peculiar to the country, such as antelope horns and quaint carvings—tbe product of native ingenuity— while upon a rough- looking table were displayed the tusks of elephant and rhinocereS, a few welt- used volumes, a ship’s chart and several trinkets, both of native aud European manufacture. We hade been but a few minutes in the but when wo were aroused by a great noise outside, and upon going to the door we found that the natives were making preparations for a great barbecue in our honor. Immense quantities of yams, cocoanuts, dates and a variety of other fruit had been gathered, while a number of mountain goats and antelopes bad been slain aud their carcasses lay upon tbe sward where our dusky friends were en gaged in removing their skins aud other wise getting them ready for the feast. by an instrument res mb irg very much aa agricultural hoe and molded in an ob long trough. The bricks were then dried iu the sun. Burnt bricks were used in Egypt for river walls and hydraulic works, but not io any great extent. Enclosures of garden or granaries, sacred circuits encompassing the courts of temples, walls ot fortifica tions and towns, dwelling houses and tombs; in short, all but the temples them selves were of crude brick, tnd so great was tbe demand that the Egyptian Gov ernment, observing tbe profit which would accrue from a monopoly of them, under took to supply the public at a reduced price, thus preventing unauthorized per- -ons from engaging in the manufacture. Tbe Jews learned the art of brick making in Egypt, and that they used it greatlr is proved by the complaint of Isaiah that the people built altars of brick instead of unhewn stone, as the law directed. The Homans used bricks, both burnt and un burnt, in great profusion, leaving their sun-dried bricks in the air for four or five years to harden. All the great existing rums of Home are of this iflatenat. At the decline of the Roman empire tbe art of brick making fell into disuse, but was revived in Italy after the lapse of & few centuries. The mediaeval, ecclesiastical and palatial architecture of Italy exhibits many fine specimens of brickwork and ornamental designs m terra cotta. In Holland and the Netherlands the scarcity of stone necessitated a substitute, and led, ut an early period, to the extensive use of brick, not only for domestic but for eccles iastic&l buildings. These countries abound in fine rpecimens of brick work, otten done In two colors combined, with great taste, and producing a very rich result, as it is to be seen in the celebrated exam- pes at Leenwardea, In Flier land. It is worthy of remark that in the fens of Lin oolnfeh : re and Norfolk, where we would naturally expect the same material to be used, tbe churches, many of which are exceedingly fine specimens of architec ture, are hudt of small stones, said to have been brought a great distance upon pack horses. In mode rn limes nowhere do we find greater perfection in the art of brick nriaking and laying than in Holland, where most of the floors of the houses and the meets are paved with bricks. Modern bricks are made of different materials; clay, sand and ashes make ex cellent bricks, while good brick-earth is found in some localities. Loam and marl in England are considered the best ingred ients. Upon the materials employed de pend tbe quality of the bricks and tbe pur- poses for which they may be used. They are pressed and dried by machinery to a great extent now, though yards are often started in the country where suitable clay is found, and bricks made by manual labor. The finishing and ornamentation, of which so much is done, is of course accomplished iu larger places, where ex penenced workmen are employed. De tails m tbe plans of builutinys are often delayed until it is known what kind of brick is to be used. This being the case of course only m places where only certain number of whole bricks can be placed, as between window ledges, sills, caps or stone quoins. Tbe utility of brick as a slang word ia not to be denied. To call a man a brick is to compliment him exceedingly, in one word you tell him he is useful, upright, absorbent, retentive, that his family history can be traced farther than that of most men, and, above all, that M is not made of “common clay.” ^ —The iugheat salary paid to a woman Woaksr in Burs la $1.SOO, village large c.jwds of monkeys looked down aud performed gymnastic evolu tions from bough to bough, evidently overjoyed at the prospect of obtaining a share of the good things that sho aid remain after the people of the hamlet had retired to rest. By and by the din of a large horde of jackals, who had been attracted to the vicinity of the vil lage by the savory smell of tbe rootl ing viands, was added to the sougs of the natives, the discordant notes of the birds and the chattering of monkeys, aud the whole combined to make one of die most infernal series of sounds that lad ever grated upon the human ear. 1876. • 1882. F.W. HABENICHT, Proprietor of the tip Aa Angry Tree. A gentleman of Virginia has a tree which is a species of acacia. It was grown from a seed brought from Aus tralia. Tbe tree is now a sappling some eight feet in height, and it is in fall foliage, and growing rapidly. It is eguminous, and very distinctly shows the characteristics of the mimosa, or sensitive plant, Begnlariy every even ing, about the time the “chickens go to roost,” the tree goes to roost. The eaves fold together, and the ends of the tender twigs coil themselves up like the tail of a well-conditioned pig. After one of the twigs had been stroked or handled, the leaves move nueasily, and are in a sort of mild commotion for a minute or more. All this was known about the tree, but it was only yesterday that it was discov ered that ihe tree had in it much more ife and feeling than it had ever before leen credited with. The tree being in quite a small pot, one which it was fast outgrowing it was thought best to give it one of much larger size. Yes terday afternoon the tree was trans ferred to its new quarters. It resented the operation of its removal to the test of its ability. Arriving at his residence about the time the tree had been transplanted, the gentlbman found the house in grand commotion. On asking what was up he was told that they had trans planted the tree according to orders, and the operation had “made it very mad.” ' Hardly had it been plaoed in its new quarters before the leaves began to stand np in all direstions like the hair on the tail of an angry cat, and soon the whole plant was in a quiver. This could havs been endured, but at the same time it gave out an odor most pungent and sickening—just such a smell as is given off by rattlesnakes and many other kinds of snakea in summer when teased. The odor so filled the house and was so sickening that it was found necessary to open the doors and windows. It waa folly an hour before the plant calmed down and folded its leaves in peace. It would probably not have given up the fight then hail it not been that ita tune fot going to reoet had arrived. I respectfully call the attention of the public to my superior facilities for sup plying everything ix my line, of snpertor quality. Starting business In WLant- boro in 1876, I have in all this time given tbe cloeet attention to my busi ness and endeavored to make my estab lishment FIRST-CLASS in every par ticular. I shall in the future, as in the past, hold myself ready to serve my customers with the best articles thatoan 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 Laubert and Marat Cognae Brandy. Jamaica Bum. Rotterdam Fish Gin. Ross’s Royal Ginger Ale, Jules Mumtn A Co.’a Champagne. Cantrel A Cochran’s Ginger Ale. Apollinaris Mineral Water. Angustora 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. Old Golden Grain Rye Whiskey. * ^ O m -r - T ■ J—— Xky ^ # 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. Pare Blackberry Brandy. Pure Cherry Brandy. Pore Ginger Brandy. Boston Swan Gin. SUNDRIES. Rook and Rye. Osceola Bitters. Hot tetter's Bitters. Bergner A Engel’s Lager Beer, in patent stopper bottles and on draught. New Jersey Sweet, Sparkling Cider. Tolu, Rock A Rye, Lawrence A Martin. Stoughton Bitters. Rock and Com. Cigars and Tobacco Syndicate Cigar, 5 cents. The Huutress Cigar, 2) cents. Madeline Cigar—All Havana—10 cents. Don Carlos (Nub)—all Havana—10 cents Minerva Cigar—Havana filler—5 cents. Cheek Cigar—Havana filler—5 cents. Our Boast Cigar— Havana filler—5 cents • LuckyHitOigar—Havana filler—5 cents. The Unicom Self-Lighting Cigarette, (Amber mouth-piece to every ten packages.) # The Pickwick Club Cigarette, (Shuck mouth-fiieoea.) I ho Richmond Gem Cigarette, (Light smoking.) V. Tli? only BUM aii Fool Par lor in Tom ICE! ICE! ICE! An abundance always on hand for the use of my customers. I wil 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 entieavor to please all who give me a call Very respectfully, F. W. HABENICHT. OPPOSITE POSIOFFd. » Vi 'Ji&X ■ -« ,1 •