The Newberry herald. (Newberry, S.C.) 1865-1884, January 19, 1876, Image 1
A Family Companion, Devoted to Literature, Miscellany, News, Agriculture, Markets, &c.
Vol. XII. WEDNESDAY MORNING, JANUARY 19, 1876. No.3.
K THEHERALDt
1S.PUBLISHED
EVERY WEDNESDAY MORlNING,
At -Newberry, S. C.
BY TH09,, F, GIMNEKERf
Editor aud Proprietor.
Terms,9 S2.50 per JAlnnin,
Invariably in Advance.
Z7- he ape isstopedat the expyration of
97y' The X mark denotes expiration of sub
Ecription.
A QUAKER'S CHRISTMAS
EVE.
How slow and soft the snow dress falls
Upon the vine-deserted walls,
As if some gracious soulI, intent
Upon the one sweet deed it meant,
Since in its grace such bounty lay,
Should wrap each bare thing on the way,
Till all things white and whiter grow,
Except the shadows Earth must throw.
The tender gray, the peaceful white,
A Quaker setting make to-night;
And so this moonshine, w1iich is shade,
Only a little lighter laid,
Into MY heart-still mood has crept,
With.sach a glow as sun rise kept
When youth and BeDiamain were mine
Ah I swift the slowest years incline,
And sunrise has no story unow
To move me like the night and snow.
If thime unqmiet bells, would cease
Clashing their peals across this peace,
It seems the hour's rare silentness
F'en worldly hearts might chide and bless,
And lift the lowest heavenward
To greet the birthday -of the Lord.
I cannot think the loudest bells
Can utter what a pure voice tells,
The spirit needs no brazen tone
To whisper triamph to His own;
The blessed healing falls to them
a Bohemian, judging from his
clothes. Let us be beggars and hap
1V~ tnoPAfhAr
poor outcast curs that drifted with
the tide in the lagoon to my door.
They were lean, hungry-eyed crt a
tnres, always on the alert for
blows and kicks. What better
friends could an unrecognized artist
have than three drowning, starving,
miserable dogs ? They were four
footed epigrams against fortune.
It was too late to begin work
that day; I could only form high
hopes of Pipo on canvas. We par
took of a frugal repast. Pipo was
initiated into the use. of a fork.
Then I offered for his consideration
the fli-st of a series of lectures on
the manly art of washing plates.
And yet, now that I have made
me a name, now that friends and
honor and fame are mine, I long
with a wistful sadness for those dear
old days in far off Venice. Some
thing I have lost which then made
life glorious. If I could only step
out into my loggia at sunset, after
a hard day's work, and hear in the
rustle of the trees in the garden,
in the roar of the surf at the Lido,
in the vesper bell sweeping over
the lagoon: "The world is an infi
nite possibility. Go forth in the
might of thy genius and youth and
conquer the realm."
I painted Pipo just as he was, in
his rags and his dirt and his angel
ic impishness. I wanted to paint
him seminude, for the sake of that
ripe golden skin of his. But I felt
that my picture was destined for
AAerican eyes,and Imerely enlarged
fhei hoWs. in his garments.
Pipo b6gan to manifest an alarm
ing fondness for brushes and colors.
"Is it possible that I may prove
the Cimabue t o- this Giotto ?"
I queried. "Giotto tended sheep
and Pipo fished with a pin-hook.
Better that he should dredge mud
from Venetian canals all his life.
He shall never wield the brush with
my consent."
This model boy of mine had one
vice which all my efforts could not
proot from his youthful breast.
e had the face of an angel, but
e used language that would have
rought a blush to the cheeks of a
hipload of pirates.
Pipo soon settled to his own sat
sfaction that when I went to Amer
c he was to go likewise. I en
ouraged the idea from education
al motives.
"Pipo, how long is it since you
washed your face ?"
Pipo counted his fingers.
"A week."
"Well, when you go to America,
Pipo my boy, you'll have to wash
our face every day and your hands
oo, for there, my Venetian aristo
rat, the people have a plebeian
rejudice in favor of cleanliness."
Pipo went off and returning, said,
with a confidential smile: ."Me clean
ow; me go to America."
Pipo came to me shortly after
ma with a graceful bow offered me
a cigarette from a package in which
e had just invested. It was Sat
rday ; our week's work was done-;
we had squared accounts, and Pipo
felt like a millionaire.
After a while things began to
look black in the little old house on
the lagoon.' Pipo and. I had been
sbsisting for sometime on ship
wreck rations. Never a foot cross
d my humble threshold with intent
o order pictures. Robinson Crusoe
nd Friday were not more entirely
alone on the island than were Pipo
nd I there in that water-bound
ottage with only our own bright
dreams and the prophetic glory of
sea and sky to keep us from utter
retchedness. I was up to the ears
n debt with Pipo at this time. But
e understood my position and
did not dun me. He was a dear
good fellow this Pipo of nme, and
would rather have gone cigarette
less to the end of his days than to
have brought me face to face with
nsolvency by asking for centimes.
"I am poor, Pipo," I said, at last,
>penly and calmly ; "poor as a
church mouse or an artist."
"nll tell you something, padrone
mio, that will bring you good
luck," answered Pipo, looking at
me with his great earnest eyes.
"What is it ?"
"You see, me want two cents
me buy."
I collected the required amount
with some difficulty and - cautioned
Pipo to be carefnl how he In.id itj
He came back with a small cage.
in his hand, containing three great
black crickets.
"They bring you good luck, pad
rone. Everybody in Venice keeps
them in the spring."
"Well, I havn't much faith in
them myself, but we will hang them
over the fireplace and see what turns
up.
The crickets sang on bravely for
a week, and did their best to bring
me good fortune, I have no doubt,
poor beasts. One morning I took
down the cage and behold there
were only two legless torsos of
crickets. Their aniputated limbs
lay about the floor of the cage in
expressive confusion. The third
had immigrated. Later I found
him half cremated hehind the fire
place.
"Pipo," I said, mournfully, "your
crickets are a delusion and a snare."
One morning not long after, I
was painting' as- usual, and Pipo
was posing patiently before me.
Suddenly there came a loud ring at
the door. What could it be ? Cred
itors I had none and visitors never.
The dogs began to howl. I looked
at myself. I wore a coat with fifty
two patches; I told Pipo to keep
his attitude. I put on a bold face,
and went to the door.
A white-haired gentleman stepped
Lnto the hall. . The dogs swarmed
>ver him at once.
"I have- been told there was an
artist living here," he said, looking
about him. "Down, my dears,
down I beg of you."
"I am the artist, or at least I try
o be one."'
I thought his face looked familiar.
[ remembered then who he was.
he winter I was in Rome I heard
a good deal about him-a benevo
ent old fellow who hunted out poor
urtipts and helped them on. He had
had a son mad after art, and refused
o let him study. The boy ran
way from home, came to Europe,
ainted awhile, gave hope of a bril
iant career, and then falling ill died
f sheer poverty and nothing else.
nd so the father did what little he
ould to atone for his fault. Oh, I
emembered himi well. I ushered
liim into the studio.
"That's a very nice. little boy,"
Le said, patting Pipo's shaven pate.
"Does,.he go to school ?''
"He does not. He revels in ig
orance and smokes."
"Ah, I see you are painting his
ortrait-a young fishe:man. Beau
iful thing ! Is it ordered ?"
I forced a pallid smile. "Orders
re not .plentiful in this establish
nent. I am painting entirely for
lory at present."
"Then would you allow me to se
~ure it for a friend at home who is
naking a collection of native art?
ould you finish it by the end of
he month ? And I know that artists
nust have brusies and colors. I
hould like to leave an instalilment,
Li you will permit me."
He laid a purse on the table.
"Never mind thanks; I had a son
mece myself. Come up and see me
t the hotel."
With his dear old face all aglow
with kiindness he started for the
oor. He waved me good-bye with
his umbrella. "Come up and see
ne and we'll talk it all over."
"Come to my arms, 0, most bless
d of Pipos. it's all through you
ad your crickets !"1
Who says that ravens no longer
~ninister to the needs of hungry
rophets ? Who says that angels
walk not abroad in human guise.
he dogs barked for delight, and1
Pipo and I danced for joy.
From that day onward life pros
ered again. Friends gathered
bot,my orders assaulted me on ev
ery side, and I exchanged the pic
uresque poverty of the house on
the lagoon for the sumptuous hall
f a palace on the Grand Canal. ]
Pipo stayed with me until I left
Venice. He pleaded hard to be ta
ken to America, but.[ felt that ine1
ould be misunderstood. His in
iocent fondness for the weed would
e labeled "Juvenile depravity;" his
poetic raggedness would be account
d squalor.
So I left him in that beautiful
city where the marble domes rise
from the water like great white
ilies, and the boats dance over the
se nik sarlet-winged birds.
There, where life is all one golden
afternoon, I left my Pipo. We had
borne joy and sorrow together, and
the parting was hard. And where
ever I go I carry about with me the
memory of two innocent child-like
eyes which finds its way continually
on to my canvas. And when I hear
the critics say: "How much this
face reminds me of Da Vinci," I
laugh, half wistfully, and think of
the tender child-mouth that smiled
up at me from the garden wall that
lonely summer evening in far-off
Venice.
GREEK PRIZES.
SECOND YEAR.
It affords the subscriber sincere
pleasure to be able to report to
the friends of classical studies
throughout t h e Commonwealth,
that the effort made in behalf of
those studies last year resulted in
3 gratifying success.
The young gentlemen who partici
pated in the examination which was
held in December, 1875, showed
that they had acquired lasting bene
ts.from their tra;.ning, while the
iddress of his excellency Governor
Chamberlain on the occasion when
bhe prizes were delivered, is justly.
regarded as a valuable contribution
bo the interests of higher edu
3ation.
1. The subscriber is therefore
ncouraged to make a second effort.
En connection with various citizens
)f Greenville who have generously
ent him their aid, he begs leave to
)ffer three prizes-one of twenty
Ive, another of fifteen, and anoth
)r of ten dollars in currency
o the students who shall stand re
pectively first, second and third in
in examination to Vyr held in this
,ity on the 29th day of November,
L876.
2. The examination-partly writ
en and partly oral-will be op.en
bo any person in the State of South
Jarolina, who is~ unde~r twenty-one
years of age on the day mentioned.
[t will be ~conducted, and the
awards will be made by three gen
blemen of acknowledged classical
attainments
3. The examination will embrace
bhe whole of Xenophon's Cyropodia,
Owen's edition is recommended,)
mnd the whole of Hadley's Greek
Wrammar, except. the appendix,1
page 318) and the matter below the
ine between page 5 and page 180.
The student should con'sult An
shon's Classical Dictionary, or some
ther work of that kind for infor
nation with regard to Xenophon,
yrus and other prominent persons
nentioned in the Cyropedia.
4. The student will be expected
o show entire familiarity with the1
natter between ?7 and ?80, and
oint out the application of the facts,
mad principles there taught in declen
ion and conjugation, and in read
Eng. He will also be closely exam-1
ned on the matter between ?81 and
1113, and the accents will be re
iuired in all eases. Complete and
Lcurate knowledge of the matter
>etween ?114 and ?450 (except that
>ortion of it which is below the line)
~vill be found indispensable. The
tudent will not only be examined
mn the Syntax, but efforts will elso
>e made both in the written and or
l examination to test his ability2
o apply its principles in reading.
5. Ability to read Greek aloud
vith fluency and a proper regard
o accent and expression will be of .
ervice to the student.
6. The maximum of proficiency
~vill be 100. Each person who re
~eives as much as 75 out of this
mumber, shall be entitled to honor-1
ble mention.
7. All persons who expect to com
ete for these prizes are desired to
~eport to the subscriber before the
irst day of MIay, 1876, at which
ime the list will be closed. No ex
mnation will be held unless at
east ten persons shall report them
elves as proposing to enter it.
Prompt notice will be given when
hat number is obtained.
8. The prizes will be awarded in
ublc, and efforts will be made to
nduce a distin'guished friend of
~lassical learning from abroad to
This Circular is affectionate]
commende I to the youth of tb
State and their kind co-operatio
is solicited. Every teacher and pi
rent into whose hands it may com
is respectfully requested to encou
ge the youth under his charge, t
anter their names as competitor
ind to render them whatever ai
may seem appropriate.
It is believed that arrangement
3an be effected with the varion
railroads.of the State, to pass thos
who may come to Greenville fo
bhe-purpose of engaging in the e3
imination, free of charge. The;
will be hospitably entertained b
>ur citizens during their visit, s
hat on the whole the expens
?romises to be trifling.
Wx H. WHITSITT,
Greenville, S. C.
MOTHER.
How my heart has been painei
o see the coolness and indifferenc
hich is often manifested for ai
tged and dependent mother.
Age may waste a mother's beaut3
md dim the lustre of her eye, he
strength may depart, her limbs re
use to support her tottering framE
)r she may become as helpless a
m infant, but shall we love her less
[s she not our mother still? Ha
ihe not toiled and watched ove
ur helpless infanny ? And i
routh, has she not tried to lead u
n the straight and narrow path
Ind in sickness she was our miniE
ering angel. Who but a mothe
)ould be so patient, so kind and ad
ectionate, so gentle and self-sacri
icing, as a mother?
If we have been tempted into foi
>idden paths, if we have followei
a bad counsel-and gone astray, i
we have chosen evil companions an<
orgotten the good counsels of ou
routh who is so ready to encourag
tnd lead us back to honor and vii
ue, as a mother? She is read;
;o fprgive, to love and cherish u
still
Who can fathom a mother's love
he is our friend when all the worl<
orsakes us. She will cling to us
will die for us if necessary.
A mother's love is strong, tende
md true. Hard indeed must b
he heart that can neglect and abus
t dear old mother.
She should never feel that she i
iot welcome, never feel that she i
i burden to her children, neve
;hould her sensitive heart be paine<
>y an unkind look or word. How lii
;le do we appreciate a mother's ten
lerness and love, while living-hol
ittle- do we think of her care an<
mxiety for us ! But when she i
~one, and we see the old arm chair
~he vacant place at the table, an<
1ear no more her dear voice, the:
lo we know she is gone,never mor<
o return, and we cannot call he
ack. She has gone; and happil:
or us if wie have so treasured ou
nother,that we can say we have beei
aithful and made her happy, an<
~ould look forward to a meeting
>eyond this world.
YULGARITY.-We have A frien(
bat never spoke a "vulgar word.
le iaa minister and a writer o
bility. "I resolved when I wai
L child," said he, "never to use
vord which I could not pronounci
efore my-mother without offend
g her." He kept his promise
le is a pure-minded, noble, honor
d man to-day. His rule and exam
>le are worthy of imitation.
Boys readily learn a class of liv
ulgar words and expressions
vich are never heard in respect
ble circles. The utmost care or
,be part of parents will scarcelj
revnt it. Of course we cannol
bink of girls as being so muct
>xposed to this peril. We canpo
magine a decent girl using word
be would not give utterance t(
efore her fatber or mother.
Such vulgarity is thought by
ome boys to be "smart ;" thi
next thing to swearing," and ye
ot so wicked. It becomes a hab
t ; it leads to profanity ; it fill
,he mind with evil thoughts
t vulgarizes and degrades th<
~oul; it prepares the way fo
nany of the gross and fearfu
ins which now corrupt society..
(Christian Neighbor.
Advr.t ise in the HEnRALD.
y THE MARCH TO ETERNITY.
,e
n Tramp, tramp, on we go without
pause or respite from the cradle to
the grave. First comes progress
and increase of stature; the devel
o opment of every faculty, and cul
s mination to the zenith, of the phys
a ical and mental energies. Then,
retrogression is the order of nature,
s and gradually, at first, but with con
e stantly accelerated pace, the frame
e descends to senility, the material
r essence lapsing finally into naught,
and the spiritual launching upon
y the sea of the dread unknown here
after.
D Reader, this is your lot and mine,
e and there is no escaping the con
sequences of man's fall, and the
doom of our first parents. We
must die; aye, inevitably die, despite
the apothegm that all men think all
men mortal btit themselves.
Hence, when the return of a birth
I day marks another of the brief
s stages upon life's pathway, bringing
i us one stadium nearer to the goal of
eternity, it is meet at least to pause
and reflect. How stands the reek
r oning? Have we grown wiser and
better within the p a s t twelve
months? Have feuds and animosi
s ties been forgiven and forgotten,.
P and enemies thereby transferm
8 ed into friends ? Have we con
r qaered self in any particular, and
a risen superior to the slavery of
s injurious habits or propensities ?
- Are we fonder husbands or wives,
. and more tender and considerate
r parents? Have we sought to pay
our honest debts and owe no
man aught save love?. Have we
endeavored-to seek the "pearl of
great price"and propitiate the favor
I of a long suffering and merciful
f God? In short are we advancing
or retrograding in the scale of be
r ing ?
e Tliese are pertinent and impor
tant questions, which should be
y propounded and candidly answered
s by every one at each return of
his natal day.
? Man's allotted existence is but
i three score years and ten, and few
~, go beyond it. How soon then
will the hours of our probation ebb
r away, and the night of death suc
e ceed, wherein "no mant can work."
e Still the day of one's birth should
be celebrated with thanksgiving
s and praise,in that God has merciful
s ly lengthened out to another year
r. the fleeting span of life, and crown
i him with innumerable benefactions
-. and loving kindnesses. Moreover, it
. ought to be seen to that good resolu
y lions are not only then formed, but
j faithfully kept.
THE WAY 1T RAIS IN FImana.-A
Florida correspondent says: It is
hard for a Northern farmer, who
watches the horizon with aching
reyes, to understand the clock-like
regularity . of this rainy season
South. Occasionally, as this year it
eis delayed; but once set in goes on
regulrly.There is a misty or clear
morning, the air transfused with a
blushing rainbowy effulgence that
melts away in the ardent kisses of
the sun into an intense dazzle of sun
Slight up to two o'clock. Then the
skirmishers of the rain rush in on
cool, dewy winds, and by sharp three
So'clock the whole line is platoon
~firing in great,heavy fusilades. Such
Srains ! Gorgeous, glorious, rushing,
a magnificent enthusiasm of plung
ing moisture. Then the long roll
of the thunder drums ; the crack
ing artillery, with its splendor of
electric flash, tolled off in low rolls;
and, before you are aware, the mo
bile army has gathered up its splen
did wings, its fire and.after guard
and reserves, anad only in the west
you see its grand victorious battle
flags ribbing the sky with broad
bands of color. Mix in a few rain
bows some foggy morning when the
whole air is prismy, and the clear,
still lake looks like an undersky, and
you have some idea of Florida in
the rainy season. Regular as the
clock that marshalling and grand
battle panorama goes on at set two.
o'clock, to be closed positively-no
change on account of the weather
-by five o'clock r. xr.
e What does an honest grocer do
j with his goods ? He gives them
away (a weigh.)
The Punch man notices that the
bald-headed men comb their heads
with towels.
THAT HIRED GIRL.
When she came to work for the
family on Congress street the lady
of the house sat dewn and told
her that agents, book peddlers,
hat rack men, picture sellers, ash
buyers, ragmen, and all that class
of people must be met at the front
door and coldly repulsed, and Sa
rah said she'd,repulse 'em if she
had to break every broomstick in
Detroit.
And she did. She threw the
door open wide, bluffed right up
to 'em, and when she got through
talking the cheekiest agent was on
ly too glad to leave. It got so after
awhile that peddlers marked that
house,. and the door bell never
rang except for company.
The other day as the lady of
the houee was enjoying a nap, and
Sarah was wiping off the spoons,
the. bell rang. She hastened to
the door expecting to see a lady,
but her eyes encountered a slim
man dressed in black and-wearing
a white necktie. He w'as the new
minister, and he was going around
to get acquainted with the mem
bers of his flock, but Sarah wasn't
expected to know this.
"Ah-um-is Mr.-ah"
"Git!" exclaimed Sarah, pointing
to the gate.
"Beg pardon, but I'd like to see
-see!"
"Meander!" she shouted, look
ing around for a weapon, "we
don't want any flour sifters
here I"
"You are mistaken," he replied,
smiling blandly, "I called to"
"Don't want anything to keep
moths away-fly I" she exclaimed,
getting red in the face.
'&Is the lady in ?" he inairi'd,
trying to look over Sarah's head.
"Yes, the lady's in, and I'm in,
and you're out'!". she snapped,
"and now I don't want to stand
here talking to a fly-trap agent
any longer! Come, lift your
boots !"
"I'm not an agent," he said, try
ing to smile, "I'm the new"-a
"Yes, I know you-you are the
new man with a patent flatiron,
but we don't want any, and you'd
better go before I call the dog !"
"Will you give the lady my card
apd say that I1 called ?"
"No, I won't. We're bored to
death with cards and handbills
and circulars. Come, I can't stand
here all day I"
"Didn't you know that I was a.
minister?" he asked as he backed
off.
"No, nor I don't know it now;
you look like the man who sold
the woman next -door a dollar
chromo for eighteen shillings~!"
"But here is my card."
"I don't care for cards, I tell
you! If you leave that gate open
I'll heave a flower pot at you 1"
"1 will call again," he said as he
went tbrough the gate.
"It wo n't do you any good" she
shouted after him ; "we don't want
no prepared food for infants-no
piano music-no stuffed birds! I
know the policeman on this
beat, and if you come around
here again he'll soon find out
whether you are a confidence man
or a vagrant!"
And she to6k unusual care to
lock the door.-Detroit Free Press.
. An exchange hits the nail right
on the head when it says: "If an
editor omits anything, he is lazy.
If he speaks of things as they are,
people get angry. If he glosses
over or smootL- s down the rough
points, he is bribed. If he calls
things by proper names, he .is
unfit for the position of editor.
If he does not furnish . his readers
with jokes, he is a mullet; if he
does, he is a rattlehead, lacking
stability. If he condemns wrong,
be is a good fellow, but lacks discre
[ion. If he lets wrongs and injuLries
go -unmehtioned, he is -a coward.
[f he exposes a public man, he does
it to gratify spite-is the tool of
the clique, or belongs to the "outs."
[f he indulges in personalities, he
is a blackguard ; if he does not,
bis paper is dull and insipid."
Why is coal the moet con tra
:lictory article known to c o m -
merce ? Because when purchased
it goes to the cell.ar.
ADVERTISINC RATESC
Advertisements inserted at the =W of $1.00
per square-one inch-fbr first inurzdon, &-d
75c. for each subsequent insertion. Double
column advertisements tenper cent on abome.
Notices of meetings, obituaries and trftutes
of respect, same rates per square as OrdkMu7
advertisements.
Special notices in local, column 15 cents
per line.
Advertisements not marked with the num
ber of insertions wMl be kept in till fbild
and charged accordingly.
Special contracto made with larW adver
Uisers, with liberal deductlowa on above rates
*Weir Pwa.wrvf
Done with Neatness and Dispatch
Terms Cash.
ALPHABETICAL LINES Ok A
HOP.,;
A was-A ans who came to the
hop,
B was the Brewer, sweet Amin
da's pop.
C was the Costume she wore:.at
the ball,
D were the- Darts, her eyes shot
* at all.
E was the Evening, in plesr
thus spen4,
F were the Fathers, who stood.
'rou*nd conent
G werethe Gir*s,sogaefuld
bright,
H were the Hearts tbat,te
broke that night.
I were the Icdns l ~ L
arou-nd,
J were the Jokes which-e.
the ground..
1K was the Kindness.thehots
dlid show,
Lwere theIAdie4 each6nevith:" -
a beau.
M were theMaieme, le
and gluml
~o]d at his ageinspire? Hewould
Lose the assurance of his identity
nader the impression of this im