The Fairfield news and herald. (Winnsboro, S.C.) 1881-1900, February 01, 1883, Image 1
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TRI-WEEKLY EDITION.
WINNSBORO. S. (1. FEBRUARY 1. 1883.
ESTABLISHED 1847
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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
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