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A Family Companion, Devoted to Literature, Miscellany, News, Agriculture, Markets, &c. Vol. X I. WEDNESDAY MORNING, MARCH 8, 1876. . No. 10. THE HERA LDJ IS PUBLISHED EVERY WEDNESDAY 310rINING, At Newberry., S. C. BY THOS, Fe GRENKERt Editor and Proprietor. Terms, f4_2.50 per alunuln, Invariably in Advance. V- The papr is stopped at the expiration of I ime for whih it is paid. Dg The X mark denote3 expiration of sub seription. TELITTLE BROWN STOCK-! INGO Here is a Utttle brown stocking, Faded by many years, Ehdden among my treasures, Stained with many tears; It hung in a chimney corner, On a Ohristmas long ago, Losided with precious goodies, Fall from the top to toe. Two chubby hands unl6aded The gifts of Santa Claus; Gh bow his black eyes sparkled! *And surely there was cause. You see that little bole there? Theres where a horse was tied Sobheavy that it tore it, And b.-g enough to ride. No soldier wats ever prouder With war-borse most superb, Than he on his rocking pony, With saddle, whip and curb, Oh, that was the merriest Christmas, And be the jolliest boy, And this is the sweetest memory I ever shall enjoy! The red leaves of the autu Lie dead above him now; Tbe prattlinag lips are silet His bands are cold as snow. Xwwght bmt the little stocking than when he has to carry out the amount on his ledger." "But let me tell you Hannah, that Mr. Waldron will not cheat. He is not the man to take ad vantage in that way." Yo u misunderstand m e, Charles; do you not know that all traders can afford to sell cheap er when they have the money in their hands and do not have to carry the amount to their ledgers. Tbey could afford to do so. Traders like to secure cash customers. I think you will find it to your ad vantage to try the cash system. Now I do not believe you would have bought this peach preserve if you had had to pay cash for it." "Buc I bought that to please you, and I thought you would be pleased." "I know you did," she re plied, as she placed her hand iffectionately upon his shoulder. 'I know you would do anything .o please me; but for the sake of belpin.g you I would forego all uch things. Then after a few Fear, perhaps, we might own a Little cottage of our own." For several days Charles only ent up from the store what they eally needed. At length, as he xent to-the store one morning on is way to work, he saw some ;plendid - pickles in fancy jars. le had ordered the articles he ieeded,'and was about to leave vben Mr. Waldron spoke: "Mr. Matthews," said he, "don't you want a jar of pickles ? I car ied my s ife in ajar last evening nd she thinks them superior to ny she ever saw." Now Charles knew that his wife 2ad plenty of plain pickled cucum )ers, some Lh.t her mother had put [own for her, but, Mr. Waldron's vife had some of these fancy ones, Lnd why shouldn't Hannah? And so he ordered the jar, and vS it was inconvenient to pay for t, ordered it charged. "Mr. Matthews. anything you nay want you can order it at any ime, and you may rest assured ye shall be very happy to accom nodate you." Now this was flattering to oung Matthews' feelings, t o hink that the trader had such onfdence in him, and he went way with an exceeding good >pinion of himself and credit, and >f the storekeeper in particular. Only one dollar'! Yes-only >ne dollar on the trader's ledger bat's of no account. But a dol ar right out of one's pocket bat was different. Charles would iot have bought them had he been >bliged to a the cash at the ime. "Ah, Matthews look here, 1 ave something nice to show iou." This was said by the tra lerto the young man the very iest morning after the purchase f the pickles. And so Mr. Wal ron led our hero to the back4 ~tore and opened a box.4 "There, Mattbews, ain't those1 ice oranges ?" "Thbey are nice," replied Charles. And so they really were. "I know your wife would like ome of those. I carried some somne to my wife, and she wanted ne to save her three or four doz "These are nice. How high ~re they ?" "Let me see ; I can send you up4 bree dozen for a dollar. I got bese very cheap. You know bey are retailing at five cents ~piece." "Yes. Well you may send me p three dozen. Just charge it, f you please." "Certainly. Anything else this1 norning ?" And so Matthews went on. his morning it would be a dolIar ~o-orrow perhaps fifty cents ind then again perhaps only twen ty-five cents. It didn't seem much. he young man had just as much money in his pocket as though be hadn't bought them. "Only a dollar," he would sayio himself. Tbat isn't much out of twelve dol-] lars a week. And it mighit not be, but the trouble was, that the next dollar was called one dollar, and be would forget to add it to the former dollar and call it two dol nars and with the nert dollar, and call it three dollars and so on. Charles came home with a new gold chain attached to his watch. "Where did you get that ?" "osk ed his wife. "A b!" returned the h usban d,with an impressive shake of his head, "I made a bargain on this chain. Now guess how much I paid for it." "I am sure I could not guess." "Oh, but try-guess s o m e - thing." "Well, perhaps ten dollars." "Ten dollars ?" echoed Charles with a disappointed look. "Why, what are you thinking of? Jack Cummins bought this chain two months ago,and paid twenty dollars forit. Why,justheftitandseehow heavy it is. Eighteen carats fine. Jack was hard up for money, and let me have it for thirteen dol lars." "It is cheap to be sure," returned Hannah, but yet with no such pleasurable*surprise as her husband had expected. "But," she added, "you did not need it, and I fear you will feel the loss of the mo ney."1 "Pooh! I have money enough. You know I have spent but very lit Lie lately. I have been pretty sav ing." "But you forget our things, Dharles. The money which you Lave on hand is not yours." "Not mine ?" he exclaimed. "No, it belongs to the storekeep r, and to the butcher, and to our andlord. You know they must be paid." "Don't you fret about them. I now it don't cost anywhere near welve dollars to live, for I have ade an estimate. There is Wil sins, who works beside me at the hop, he has four children, and )nly gets the same wages I do, ind yet he lays up tvto or three lollars each week." "Yes," said Hannah, "I know e does; I was in to see his wife he other day, and she was- telling ne how they get along. Mr. Wil ins takes his basket twice a eek and gets his meat and vege ~ables, and trades for cash, and o gets,oeverything to the best ad antage. So he does at the store,. 2e lays in a good quantity of those ~rticles which will keep, and buys utter, eggs, apples and such hings by the quantity when thb narket is full, and they are cheap, nd he always buys enough to last 2is family over the season of scar ~ity, when such things are high. Elis butter, for instance, he bought ~o: twenty-two cents per pound, a irkin of it-and it is much sweeter han that which you paid forty ight cents yesterday." "Forty-eight cents !" repeated bhe young man in surprise. "Yes. I asked Mr. Waldron's nan when he brought it up, and i said it had risen to forty-eight ~ents. Mr. Wilkins got twenty ozen of eggs soinetime ago for wenty cents a dozen, and his wife >acked them down, and they keep vell. You will have to pay _Mr. Waldron forty-five cents for those 2e sent up yesterday." Charles Matthews was somewhbat astonished at this view of the case, yut it could not be helped now, and be subject was dropped. His gold bain had lost its charm. It did 0t look so well, even in his own yes, as the old black cord whbich 2e bad worn before. At length the end of the quar er came around. The first bill sas the rent, which amounted .o twenty-one dollars. The next vas the butcher's bill of tt irty-six lollars. Charles was astonished o see bow his meat bifl footed up. But when he saw how many ~teaks he had had at thirty cents pound, the cause of the wonder lisappeared. Next he paid the yaker's bill, which was thirteen ollars. When he came .home in ,he evening he had paid all his >ils except the grocery bill. "Mr. Waldron sent his bill to. lay," his wife said, after sup )er. "Ab, did he ? let me see it." Hannah brought it and Charles .ooked. He was astonished at its ength, and when he came to look t the bottom of the column his ed up just sixty-five dollars-an average of five dollars a week. "This is impossible!" he exclaim ed, as he gazed upon it. But he examined the different articles, and he could remember when he had ordered them. Those things which cost him only a dollar, look ed very innocent when viewed alone, but in the aggregate they had a very different look. "How much shall we lay up this quarter, Charles?" kindly asked his wife, as she came and leaned over his shoulder. and smoothed the hair from his brow. "flow much shall we lay up?" he repeated. "Not much. Get the slate and let us reckon up." He was resolved to be frank about the matter and let his wife know all. The slate was brought. First, she put down one hundred and fifty-six dollars as the quarter's salary. Then came the rent and the butcher and the baker. "Now you put down thirteen dollars for the chain-and twelve dbllars for sundries-that means egars, concerts and such things. Now take all that from my quar ter's salary, and see how much remains." She did so and gave fifty-two dollars as the result. "Fifty- t w o dollars !" uttered Charles, sitting back in his chair, "and we have not bought one arti cle of clothing nor of furniture. Fifty-two dollars with which to pay sixty-five. There is thirteen dollars short this quarter, and I meant to save at least thirty dol lars." "Wel-l, it's no use to mourn over it," said the wife, in a cheerful tone, for she saw that her husband felt badly. "Let us commence again. There is nothing like try ing, you know." For some moments Charles re mained silent. He gazed first upon the bill he held in his hand; then upon the floor. At last he spoke. "Hannah 1 see where the trouble is, and I must freely admit that Ibhave been wrong. If I had paid for everything as I bought it I should have hit it. You were right. I see it all now. I have not estimated the value of money as I ought. Let me once get up again to where I began, and I -will do dlifferently. I must step down to the store this evening and pay the rest as soon as I get it." "That matter is easily settled," she replied, "for I have money by me that 1 had when I was marri He protested most earnestly against taking his wife's money, but she insisted on giving him the money. It was her will and he must submit. So he went down and paid the grocery bill, and on his way home sold his gold chain for thbirteen dollars. He felt hap pier now and was ready to com mnence the next quarter. On the next Monday moi'ning the young man went into the meat store to send home a piece of beef for dinner. "How much will you have ?" asked the butcher. "0, three or four" Charles got thus far, and then he stopped. He had always been in the habit of ordering an indefi nite quantity, and leaving the butcher to cutitoff at the highest figure, and charge the highest price ; and then he remembered how much was usually wasted. "Let me have two pounds," he said. He stopped and saw it weighed and then paid for it. When he went home at noon, he found that his two pounds of beef was enough for a good dinner. The next morning he went to the store. Mr. Waldron had some nice figs just come in which he showed. They were only twenty five cents a pound. For a mo ment Charles hesitated, but as he remembered that he had got to pay for all he bought he concluded no't to take them. He found that things were not so enticing when it required cash to get them .as when the payment could be post poned. He paid for what he bought and went h is way; and thus things went on through the waek. When it came Satur-ay night he knew that all the money in his pocket was his own, after deducting the rent. That evening he went to the market with Wilkins and bought as much vegetables and meat as he thought would last through the week. He found he had made a saving of at least twenty per cent., and when the opportunity offered he made the same saving in other matters. At the end of that quarter Charles Matthews did not have to get a slate. He paid his house rent, and then he found he had thirty-five dollars left in his pock et. That was his-he did not owe a penny of it. "Ah, Hannah," said he, as he held the money in his hand and looked it over, "now I know how easy it is for a man to be ~wrong and his wife right. This money all comes of paying as I go along. It is very easy and simple to say: 'Just charge it, and a man can easi ly buy things under such circum stances, but when the day of reck oning comes these three simple words, that sound so innocent when spoken are found to be cost ly things. I did not believe it un til I tried it. I could not have be lieved that a man would purchase many articles simply because ho could have them charged. But I see it now, and if I refused to fol low your advice at first, I have gained experience enough to lead me 'to follow it more explicitly now." Charles Matthews never again allowed himself to be carried away by the credit system, but has followed the cash rule, and the consequence has been that he could buy produce, coal, et.., at the cheap prices, and. he has now cut off the expense of house rent, for he owns a snug little cottage and it is all paid for. ieHuirtous. LFrom the Lutheran Visitor.] WORLDLY PLEASURE. NUMBER V. WHAT THE MIRRORS EXHIBIT. But let us see what the mirrors reveal. When we hold up dan cing before the pure surfaces of the right-hand mirror do they re flect any images ? Does love show us any fruit of the Spirit ? No; not where "the lust of the eye and the pride of life" have do minion. Does joy ? No, no. The hilarity which reigns during the hours of forgetfulness of God is not "heavenly joy on earth." Does peace ? Peace is veiled in the presence of variance, emula tions, wrath, strife. Does long suffering? The weariness of the flesh, in the hours of satiety, is not long-suffering, and must be looked for in revelings. Gentle ness? Goodness? Faith? Meek ness? Temperance ? No. We must hold it up before the other mirror, and no sooner does it come within the range of reflection, than we are dazzled with the many-colored flashes which dart forth. In pity let us b'egin with idolatry. What characters does it display in the dance? "Lovers of pleasure more than lovers of God ?" "Ye shall have no other gods before me." What does witchcraft ? The fasci nations of the dance are countless. The enchantment is such, that the 'gommunion of saints" (for exam ple, prayer-meetings,) becomes tiresome, an d even repulsive,under thie bewitching an ticipations of as sembling in the ball-room. When ever this merry throng moves be fore this dismal reflector, the sur faces of hatred, variance, emula tions, wrath, strife, arrange them selves ina concave mirror, with mur der in the focus. Is it not so ? It is a notorious fact recorded in the annals of the duello, that many friends have become be vitched by terpsichorean idols, and rushed forth with rage, lighted up by gleams of scoffing at religion re fl.ected from the surface of here sies, to seek that vengeance, which society has legalized by a code, and which has so often caused men's hair to tnrn -- white In a single night. - Murder? Why, far back in an tiquity, long before this amuse ment had swelled to its modern voluptuousness, the dancing of Sa lome so bewitched Herod that, to gratify her, he murdered John the Baptist. We usually are impressed with unaccountable horror at reading those romances which tell of "spec tre dances," "witches' dances," and of skeletons dancing around gibbets from which otherskeletons were dangling in chains; but they are not more hideous than those bals a la victime which sciety tol erated towards the close of the reign of terror; balls in which no family take could part, unless it had lost one or more of its members by the guillotine. This is dreadful, but it is history; and it shows what revolting uses the passions and diseased emotions make of an amusement-a worldly pleasure that pervades all classes of people. Whenever any public, carnal in dulgence is resolved- upon, this goddess-to whom mythology has given the name of Terpsechore presents herself, with a bound and a pirouette, to offer assistance. Even at the innocent pic-nic she frequently tramples into the dust those thoughts and feelings-sug gested to the young by the streams and by the trees and by the flow ers-which ought to direct their hearts from "nature up to nature's God." But it is at the balls of the carnival season that she rises to her utmost stature. There she is worshipped after her own heart. I, myself, witnessed one of these terrific indulgences in the city of Paris about thirty years ago. I have often reproduced -it in- my memory, and I will now give the reader one glimpse of it. A little after dark I threw myself into the grotesque throng and was borne along by it up the wide staircase of the grand opera. In an instant a.spectacle was present ed to my gaze which never can be forgotten in this world, nor surpassed in the next, except by the frantic leapings of the damn ed. Thbe immense space before me was blazing with gas-light. The stage had been extended forward, by flooring over all the seats, so as to afford a platform of more than an acre in extent. A wild waltz .was going on,in which,it was sup posed that,twelve hundred persons were engaged. At the farther end of this space, a furlong's dis tance from me, Musard was con. ducting two hundred of the best musicians in Paris; a less number could not have been heard above the roar of voices and the rush of feet. The current of the waltz could be traced, in a huge circle, through the writhing yet station ary crowd. Satan, himself, must have selected the costumes. There was no ordinary citizen's dress -no farmer, no matron, no modest peasant girl, no. bridegroom, no b r i d e . S u c h representations would have been in bad taste, where the flesh was let loosa for the space of a week. But there were demons whirling around with witches in their arms, monks with nuns, and vampires with corpses; while at various distances along the line,tall men in military uniform were carrying their pan ta loned partners upon their shoul ders. This is no exaggeration. It can be witnessed, alas ! even in our own country, during the week be fore Lent--the carnival, Tetzel's indulgence in spite of Luther. Can an amusement, so hideous in its supreme development, be mod ified into propriety for any house hold, which has determined to serve the Lord, whatever others may do ? Never, so long as the Bible contains the n a m e s of Joshua and Jesus. Josh. xxiv. 15; St. John xv. 19. The scales may not glitter so dazzling at the citi zen's ball; they may be dimmed with mere cheerfulness at the Christmas merry-making; and they may scarcely be perceptible at the quiet dance in the parson's parlor ; but they cover folds of the same baleful serpent, the Jast joint of which is animated by the same vital fluid that circulates among the fangs and venom bags of the monstrous head-the ,mas querade ball of the carnival. JOHN ARNDT. WHY MEN NEED WIVES. It is not to sweep the housc make the bed, darn the socks, and cook the meals, -chiefly that a man wants a wife, if this is all be needs, hired help can do it cheap er than a wife. If this is all. when a young man calls to see a lady, send him into the pantry to taste the bread and cake she has made, let him inspect the needle work, or bed makicg, or put a broom in her hand and send him to witness its use. Such things are imsportant, and the wise young man will qpickly look after them; but these are not the most impor tant. What a true man wants with a wife is her sympathy, companion ship and love. The way of life has many dreary places in it, and man needs a companion to go with him. A man is sometimes over taken by misfortune; he meets with failure and defeat; trials and temptations beset him, and he needs some one to stand by and sympathize. He has some hard battles to fight with. poverty, enemies and sin, and he needs a woman that,when he puts his arm around her, he feels he has some thing to fight for, that she will help him to fight, that she will put her lips to his ear and wbis per words of counsel, and' her hand to his heart and impart a heavenly inspiration. All through life, through rain and sunshine, conflict and victory; through adverse a n d favoring winds, man needs a woman's love. The heart yearns for it. A sister's or a mother's love will hardly sup ply the need. Yet many seek for nothing further than success in housework. Justly enough half of these get nothing more; the other half surprised beyond meas ure, have got more than they sought. Their w i v e s surprise them by bringing out a noble idea in marriage, and disclosing atreas ury of sympathy and love. A SCENE FROM .IIFE.-A young man entered"the bar-room of a village tavern, and called for a drink. "No," said the landlord you have had the delirium tremens once and I cannot sell you any more." He stepped aside to mak e room for a couple of young men whbo had just catered,and the land lord waited upon them very polite ly. The other had stood by silent and sullen, and when they finished he walked up to the landlord, and thus addressed him: "Six'years ago, at their age, I stood where those young men are now-I was a man with fair prospects. Now at the age of twenty-eight I am a wreck, body and mind. You led me to drink. In this room I form ed the habit that has been my ruin. Now sell me a few glasses more, and your work will be done. I shall soon be out of the way, there is no hope for me. But they can be saved. Do not sell it to them. Sell to me, and let me die, and the world will be rid of me ; bult for heaven's sake sell no more to them." The landlord listened, pale and trembling. Setting dw his decanter, he exclaimed, "God help me, this.is .the last drop I will ever sell to any one," and he kept his word. BOOTH AND FoaD.-The Char lotte Observer says: Something of Mr. Booth's contract with Mr. Ford, obtained from the latter, will interest our readers. Mr. Booth is paid $600 per night. His contract is for fifLy nights, and for this period he receives] $30,000. Wheii Mr. Ford went to him to make the contract, he pro posed to give him what he (Booth) thought he could make in New York. Mr. Booth told him that he 1 could make $600 per night there; Mr. Ford offered him that much, and a bargain was made. Every night's-performance costs the man ager of this company $1,000. One of the terms of the contract is, that Mr. Booth is never to travel a,t night and never to leave a stop ping place before 110o'clock in the dlay unless he chooses to do SO.! Not withstanding his heavy expen ses, Mr. Ford calculates upon ma king $3,000 to $4,000 clear money during his Southern tour. ADVERTISINC RATES. Advertisements inserted at the rate of $1.o0 per square-one inch-for first insertion, &-)d 75c. for each subsequent insertion.* DouLle column advertisements tenper cent on abo vs. Notices of meetings, obituaries andl tn'bul.C of respect, same rates per square as ordi=7' advertisements. Special notices in local column 15 cenle perline, Adversement& na markedwith the num ber of insertions wiUl,be kept'.4bt"IM forbid and charged accWWdgly. Special contiacts; maide with 'Appe adver tisers, with liberal deductos o n jtpv rates *Too "Ziffiriv e Done with-Neatnessi and Dispatch Terms Casb. OUGHT TO BE A BANKERM. She said she'd take a dozen gg,but while the grocer was loubtinge't'hemn out she a-ked the price. He told her and shbe shriek 3d: "Seventeen cents ?" "Yes, ma'am.1' ",Why, that's outrageous !" "Well, it's hard times,'and ev ,rything is up." She sat down on a sugar barrel, )ighed severa'l times, and. asked f eggas were likely to be lower )r higher. "I don't claim to be a prophet," ae replied as he twisted a- sheet )f paper into the shape of a fun iel, "but I dare say that they'll )e down to sixteen and one-half ent.s in less than-.a _wee.4, and ?erhaps, go lower. Trade, which s naturally depressed during Sa y and August, is looking, up"a ittle. Our exportg-of gold are nowr ,qualed by our imports., The call ng in of bonds puts more ready. -noney afloat, andl capitalists- are * - So you wouldn't take me to be - - ~2Y - - I .!..... -