liL^J^~^? Mill '' ** '""' "" ir. ^ ^ ^ .?* ' ! * - * * '.***"' ' ' * '*. ^'" ^ WILSON AND W. C. BENET. ABBEVILLE, S. C., WEDNESDAY, JULY 24, 1878. r ' : .: : , ;;;v%' NO. Mm ww ws^HytBfFpaeaHr .. ? *,-?*< ... Husband and Wife. MV HTT8BA3ID. Who in my youth said, "Dearest, come, And with me o'er the wide world roam if? .Wft.MJi/.a 2 _? ; *? m-'ti :? When on the oonoh of suffering laid, With throbbing pulse and aohing head, Who anxious watches round my bed?? My husband. Who, when of kindred dear bereft, Andmy sad heart in twain is oleft,, Proves that my dearest friend is left ?? ,. _ taslwmd. K Witngnei anaxeaxs,, And through the gloom no star appears, I. Who cheers my heart and wipes my tears ?? I " $Z\ T - ''s< My husband. - tfOw, when I've done]with all below,. < ' *^And death * dark waters round me flow, r Wcald^fain with me o'er Jordan go?? J My husband. my wnk .. .? A ' . T ?: ?* >' * J BBSPOXtUS TO HZB STANZAS, " MY HCHBAh'D,' ' Whit maiden, in the days of yore, Smote me with moot tremendous power, _ ' 3nSMBg pangs unknown before ?? - My wife. li'sjin * a .t* Who pitied me in my distress, And, by one simple little ? Yes,1* ? f^ged'#jft>oe to blessednessj^ . j . > My wife. Who did, with look almost divine, Mj goal In cords of love entwine, .'/j And gave her priceless heart for mine ?? : w'' - ..i' *'v^w* . i i* : ' Who.to the alter went with me, - tOMijSoiartg aglow with ecstasy, And my good angel vowed to be.?? ' \ ' j My wife, j: %hpy?inoelto the alter led >'f.'V K?M? Mil MM> nM W???h^a wim^ iy? AoJ ?? . j $*'our pilgrimage bolow 'K '.'" j .y,,:1fta6heere3with smiles the parage through, , <. And ever faithful proved and true?? - --r - ... My wife. , When pressed with sorrow, toil and cares, "Who all my grief and trouble shares, . And half at least my burden bears ?? ' My wife. When tempests rage and billows roll, , And human passionB spurn control, Who calms the tumult of my soul ?? My wife. j . I ' ; When storms are boshed and Bkies are bright, j And shadows dark are changed to light, ' ' Who joys with me in sweet delight ?? My wife. ! : Who was in y^nth th'admired of men; i : Bnt now, at threescore years and tea, Is far more beantifoi than then ?? < My wife. Aa down life's ragged steep I go, With careful, trembling steps and slow, ... Who clings to me and helps me throngh ?? j ' " 'J*11*'9* ' Will meet me on blest Canaan's shore, And sing with me for evermore ?? I. My wife. < ' ?Harper's Magazine. ] ; ' CHAEITT AT HOME, , The Forbes girls had been at a recep- < i- tion, and were just stepping into their S oarriage when they saw Nelly Bigelow 1 coming np the street. j "Drive on home, Thomas; we will 1 % *' walk. ? Oh, Kelly !?such an age since r "iPMtov you! Ton must go ahopping ' ? W&wF " ?* The three had been school-girls to- ? r v gather, and had nover forgotten their old ? " friendships, although- now they seldom ] met. Jenny and Dora Forbes were lead- 1 era in a fashionable oircle of society, 1 . while Nelly was a teacher in one of the ~i-mibHc schools.; delicate silk-and-velvet costumes of the two first contrasted oddly with ? a Nelly's coarse waterproof suit. But the ' Forbes girls seemed never to think of ^ that, though Nelly, with all her good i '*v sense, thought of it, and straggled ' lttlvely not to care. ] At the corner a wretched deformed ( I. lad tried to sell them some papers. j Dora's oheeks flashed and her eyes i .-4Qled. "Ton poor child!" she said, j handing him some money. "See, girls! ] this is oertainly no impostor." :& Jenny also gave him some money, t nt HeDystoo3 motionless. < /: "Do you think we were deceived? i >?.. Perhaps you don't approve of giving alms on the street?" they said, eagerly, 1 appealing to her for advice just as when 1 they were at school. "2 have no right to an opinion," said . Kelly. " ..v i ' Jiffie sisters exchanged significant guanoes. " Thev think it is meanness in me." Nellv. ft IflljPffowe topiy for it Wfifle die still held it, a white-haired old lady, a friend of the Forbes es, approached ? " Ah, girls, just in time to help in a good work! Tiiose poor people burned ont last night,?forty families. I have ft subscription-paper here; how mnch v .. ' . ,:t:l^n't^nt^onr names down. Just cannot make a contribution," die large one,?we don't ask evecrybody^o ^give; like those dear girls, SMI. ??mot arive anvthine to-dav." an embarnned Bilenoe for ESi&SW minutes as tbe^walked up the Wm street togetha^:gw Do? and Jenny soon forgot the incident, and were as gay and affectionate as before. " What are von going to do to-morrow, Nelly ?" said Dora. " It is a legal holiday, Mid of course jour school mnst be closed.-, I wish yon would come and spend the day with us. We are going to drive out on the Wissahickon in the afternoon, and have tea and n dance in the Sybil boat-house in the evening. MM. _ i * _ A* xne Doys are memoers 01 ine ciiid, you know, and it is their plan. They have been busy decorating the boat-house all the week. Augustine is to furnish the 6upper, and mamma is to chaperone us. You positively must come, Nell." m " There will not bo more than a dozen," began Jenny, eagerly, " and no ?no dressing," hesitating; " just plain walking-dresses. Say you will come, NeUy was only eighteen. And a drive all the afternoon in the park, with a dance, and perhaps Dora's handsome cadet brother as a partner t It was long since she had had any glimpse of pleasure. And then?it would not cost anythfifr * How could she resist ? "I think I can go," she said, her eyes sparkling. " I will determine this evening, and send you a note by mail." Asthegirls left her, she noticed how people glanced at them with a smile of pleasure. With their airy dresses, sweet, innocent faces and light-hearted ?-?- ? 3-ii -j -1 i YUHMD) ion aou BUODi iiuKiuanu aa they .'passed. Nelly was young and pretty as they, yet nobody looked after her with pleasure. "t give nothing away?not even smiles," she thought, as she walked wearily home. In her purse was her quarter's salary. There was not a penny of .it which was not approprioted?so much for groceries, so much for the boys' clothes and shoes, not a penny left to give away. The Bigelows were wholly dependent on Nelly's earnings and her father's salary as -fcook-keeper, and the supply was scant. She saw many a poor oreature in need of help, and it galled her intolerably that she had nothing to give. "Whatwas it that Dora had said?" she mused, as she walked along. " Nobody so poor that they cannot give ;# 4.1. ?? OVU1QUUU5 11 UUOJ VUWOOt Tiie words rung in her ears as Bhe went into the bare little dining-room where the family were seated a tsupper. It was not a hilarious assemblage. Mr. Bigelow was a" thin old man, who talked in monosyllables to his children. His shabby coat was buttoned with an air of impregnable dignity. Nelly remembered as in a dream, that when her mother was alive she had seen him joke and laugh heartily. But since her mother had gone, he had grown life* less, silent and old. Hib children, even Nelly, shrank from his cold blue eye. When her mother lived the tea-table bad been bright and merry?no matter how poor the fare. Now Thad and Joe were squabbling in whispers over the 3ry bread and stewed apples, while Alice grumbled outright. " You got your pay to-day, Nell. We might have something better than starvation diet." Nellv winced as if she had been struck. How hopelessly rough and ralgar Alice and the boys were growing 1 3urely it was not her fault. She worked bard for them all day, and when she same home in the evening with her uervous headache, they betook themselves to the street for companions. " Where are you going to-morrow, boys ?" she said, gently. " It is a holi-1 3ay, you know." " You bet we know!" Tliey nudged each other and giggled. " Big goingson to-morrow. Never you mind." " What will you do, Alice?" " Follow the parades, I reckon," tossing her head. Her mother's daughter tramping about the streets in a crowd of half drunken men t Nelly looked at tfce boys with a searching gaze. They had honest, manly faces, but hard and defiant lines were already coming into them. She sat silent a long time. The drive i>n the Wissahickon and the dance ! It was not easy to shut the door on that iream of delight. At last she looked up aheerfully. "What do you say, children, to a pic aio? .Early stare, Dig ovuceir, Doac no Rockland, fishing,?all kinds of fan." "Nelly!" " Do you mean it ?" The children started up. " We never aid such a thing!" cried Alice. "I never was farther out of town thau the water-works in my life!" " Oh, Ally, that cannot be true!" "Yes, it is true.' You don't take any jare of me, or you would know. Nobody does?since mamma died." The shild's lips trembled. " I will take care of you now, little sister," said Nelly, putting her arm ironnd her. " Well, what do you say, toys?" Thad ana Joe looked at each other. 14 Wo made a sort of engagement," said rhad; " but we'd rather go with you, md?we will go," he added, resolately. Mr. Bigelow had left the table and vandered aimlessly to the window. Nely ran after him and caught his hand. It nras like caressing a wooden statue. VPapa,?you will go with us?" " i, iMeuy, on a parsjr ui pieuourc i He stared down at her. The color ictually rose into his withered cheek. Yon don't think I could, my child? fou do not want a poor old man like ne?" Something in his look revealed to Nely the truth,?the utter loneliness of the j >ld man's life, the hungry craving for love and companionship, which she had lever given him. She held his hand in lers a moment, stroking it, and then dosed it. She could not speak. "Iwill go, my child." Her father's voice was strangely altered. He went into his own room, and lid not oome out again. Nelly was busy until late in the night. There was a tongue to boil, and a certain kind of cookies to bake. The boys hovered over hejr, happy, meddling at every turn, but singularly gentle and affectionate. " Mother used to make this kind of cakee. Arn't they nice ?" Alice had her sleeves rolled up and her apron on. Never was anybody more ?-? ? ? i.? 4. Dusy or more luipuinuiii, juneu and laughed, and made more fan out of thepaokiugof a basket than was ever made .since time began. Bat her heart was sore within her. What a trifle was needed to make these children happy, and to bind them to homo! How solitary and cheerless her father's life had been these many years 1 A little out-spoken love, a little cheerfulness, was all that was needed, and she had been blind to it all these years! The picnic was a very simple matter. People who can aiford pleasure every day would have laughed at it. They went out to the park in the horse cars. Then they sailed up the broad, bright river to Bockland. Then Mr. Bigelow 'innd a. dark nnol. and ricreed Hib old rods, and taught the boys how to fish. They found out he had been a famous fisherman in his day. He told wonderful stories of old exploits, brought up old iokes, and was not a little vain of the boys' shouts of applause. ... Jl The children actually never had heard their father talk before. They felt thcrp knew him for the first time. Thad was moved to confide his scrapes with the "ffoHyi teacher to him, and little Joe fell asleep with hie head on his knee.' j_ "Don't take him away, Nelly," era the old man, when she wonld have re i moved liim. "If only my children wonld come closer to me in this way! Perhaps they will." Al Nelly left Alioe to preside over the ' dinner. She spread it on a big rock. Her father and the boys kindled a fire, Ba and Mr. Bigelow cooked the three fish St ' they had canght. wi Yon never heard snch jokes and laugh- lil ing?you] never saw people with snch H ravenons appetites I After dinner fl< Thad, who had a very sweet little pipe di oi a voice, sang some songs; and then he Mr. Bigelow asked them if they knew gi "The Bay of Biscay, oh!" and sang it. T1 It was moonlight when they came tb home, floating down the river between bt the dark, wooded banks. Nelly sat with fo: Alice olinging to her. "Ton are the beet oh Bister in the world!" said the child. th Her father took her hand in his. "It ri] halfeen one of the happiest days of my lifejNelly. I thought my children cared in nothing for me, but I shall never be to alone again." ne Years have passed since that day. is Thad and Joe are now sturdy young fr< fellows, and engaged in business. Alice cii is a gentle, bright-faced girl. Nelly is a an happy wife ana mother. Her old father th site by her- fireside, and her children are th his pete and darlings. There has not lai been'an hour in which she has not striven in little ways to make others cr< happy. But she never forgets that first M< day when she learned the lesson of self- 1ft sacrifice, nor the tone of her father's Oc voice as he said, "I Bhall never be alone Jo amii).?Youth's Companion. hit ' * gi1 Toys at the Exposition. E? A Paris correspondent, describing the 0j various matters of interest in the French ]ftl section of the Exposition, says: But its jjfl great attraction is the extensive and re- 0y markably ingenious display of mechan- ? ical toys. Here are dolts that, on being m( wound up, swim around in a tank of water, making every requisite movement p]( of legs, arms, hands and feet, diving and treading water, exactly as if they were go trained human swimmers; and a pea* cock that walks slowly across the table, turning its neck and head from side' to crc side, and slowly expanding and then* ja. gradually dosing' its gorgeous tail; and ^ elephants that walk about with howdahs ~n on their backs, and put out their flexi- ya ble trunks for food m the most natural jg ] manner; and scenes in the Jardin dC Ac- we climatation, where other elephants ^ march around bearing a load of passen- ^ gers, the men stroking their mustaches, ^ the women dandling babies and waving ^ parasols, the children gesticulating with ] rlnlifrVit. aa fViAxr trn And Via nfrmn to snatch a bonnet from a girl's head, who 0^, looks np and complains to her mamma, ^ j who scolds the keeper; -while dacks ^01 swim about in the brook of real water and cranes flap their wings and poke their bills, and reindeer graze and calves fee suckle, and a lion grins, growls and As roars, jast as they do in the garden, " Madame's reception" shows a sump- ^ tuous drawing-room, with a dozen ladies ve, dressed in the extreme of fashion, every ^ detail of dress elaborated to perfection, tjia while they admire and criticise each Kri! other's toilets, pour out and drink ^ 1 chocolate, pay respects and make p0] adieuz in the most graceful manner. fee There is a little beauty, half life-size, exquisitely dressed, who bows, nods, shrugs, curtseys, flirts fan and contemplates her glass, until you are almost rj sure she is alive. There are animals teu that play on drums and harps, and do 8a? actually draw thin little tunes from gi? them. And a whole array of featheied warblers, in cages and on springs, that tur make the section resound with what t,ei every one fancies to be bird musio until j^jj they approach near and see that it is