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A Family Companion, Devoted to Literature, Miscellany, News, Agriculture, Markets, &c. Vol. XII. WEDNESDAY MORNING, MARCH 22, 1876. No. 12. THE HERALC) IS PUBLISHED EVERY WEDKESDAY MORNING, At Newberryq S, C. BY THER. F. GRENEKERt Editor and Proprietor. Terms., $2,50.per JnInumn Invariably in Advance. 7- The paper is stopped at the expiration C time for which it is paid. Dg The X4 mark denotes expiration of sub Ecriptioni. Owi THIE BLAIELESS LAND. He watched a ~tiful bubble of fame; It floated upix and broke. He dreamed a dream of a world withou, blame, It vanished away when be woke. But out of the bubble a -precious tear Fell soft on his fevered band; And the memory of the dream was dear As a gUimpse of the blameless land. TWENTY YEA RS. -0 When I hear people talk about romance having died a natural death in this busy nineteenth cen. tury, and how prosaic and unin teresting our lives have become, I arways think of*my old friend Phil Rodent. I don't think I ever heard a story quite like his. ~"Twenty years of a man's life spent for this strong, faithful friend, who had kept the memory of our boyish days still fresh and green amid the frosts of age and the chilling winds of change and ab sence. One balmy September morning I was installed pastor of the old fashioned little church, and then I went to housekeeping. Phil and I were busy all one week getting my home ready, and then I wrote to Abby, who, poor girl, was glad enough to leave her boarding place and come to keep house for me. We had two brothers married, but though "Aunt Abby" was very use ful if the children had measles or scarlet fever, there was no place she could call her "home;" so now we two, the odd ones in the fami ly, planned to end our days to gether. Phil and I were much with each other, and one evening in the beginning of December we were sitting in his sanctum smok ing a quiet pipe together, and he was telling me of some improve ments he meant to make on his place w hen I said, jestingly: "What a pity it is you havn't made some woman happy with the gift of your hand and pleasant home, with all its etceteras of lame horses and charity patients." Phil puffed a cloud of smoke into the air, and sat watching the soft rings in si lence for sc-ne moments, then he said, quietly: "I have been wait ing these twenty years, Archie, for my wife; and I still believe that she will come, though it'sa time, a long time," he repeated musingly. Was my friend dreaming? I said nothing, but sat waiting some further enlightenment. "You never knew. my brother Paul did you Archie ?" Phil com menced, in his full- quiet voice.. "Poor fellow, he met with an ac cident when a child which lamed him for life. - When he was-let me see-about twenty-two (he was eight years younger than myself) I took him .to Germany to con sult a famous physician, in whose skill I had great faith. Just be fore our sailing three passengers came on board, who attracted my attention and interest from the first. One was a man between for ty and fifty, handsome and stylish looking, but with an unpleasant air of bravado about him, and a furtive way of watching people; which impressed me very unfavor ably. He was followed by a man some years younger than himself, on whose arm leaned a young and very pretty lady. As they passed into the cabin many eyes were turned upon them. The men were talking wholly in French,and paying little or no attention to their silent companion. "Paul had his meals brought up on deck, and at dinner I found I was seated next the young lady that had so excited my interest that morning. Well, that night many glances of admiration were cast upon my neighbor, glances not unmingled with pity ,' the pale beautiful face was so very sad, and the large brown eyes seemed heavy with unshed tears. As she raised her hand I saw she wore a wedding ring. The elder of the two gentlemen was evidently her father, the likeness between them was so strong, and the other I be came convinced was her husband, although he seemed strangely in different to her comfort or in con venience. As we left the table she dropped her handkerchief; and when she raised her eyes to mine in thanking me for restoring it, whether she saw the interest I felt revealed in my face, I1 could not tell, but a slight blush tinged her cheek as she turned away. "The next morning, when I re turned from a search for Paul's books and rug, I found her seated beside him. She apologized very sveetly for her 'intrusion,' then said, with a glance at her husband, who was leaning on the back of her chair. 'Mr. Lambert had some books which he thought your bro ther might like to see.' "Lam bert acknowledged my thanks with a careless bow, say ing, with a scarcely perceptible sneer in his voice, as he strolled away: 'My wife is devoted to in "Mrs. Lambert glanced at me with a troubled look,as if she feared my being offended ; but, as I en deavored by my manner to reas sure her, she was soon chatting quite cheerfully to Paul, who seem ed to have taken one of his vio lent fancies to her at once. "After that not a day passed that did not find her seated on the deck, trying to interest and amuse my poor boy, who used to lie on his cushions with his pale cheek rest ing in his hand, and his large blue eyes fastened on her eloquent face with a look of the most intense admiration and love. "When we reached Liverpool Mr. Lambert suddenly decided to go first to Paris, so Paul and I went on alone. We did not speak much of Kathleen now, but my boy missed her sadly, and as his health began to fail I knew he longed daily for a sight of her sweet face, a touch of her cool soft hand. 'My little sister,' I heard him say once when he thought he was alone, 'if you knew Paul was dying, I think you would come to him.' "His words wrung my heart with a terrible pain and fear. If I had only known Kathleen's ad dress I would have written to her, but i had no means of obtaining it. Paul said nothing of his desire to see her, but when the doctor advised change of air he asked me to take him to Baden Baden. "'Why, Paul, do you think' "'I think Kathleen may be there,' he said quietly. And he was right. Two days after our arrival a carriage passed me in the street. Glancing up I saw Kathleen leaning, pale and sad looking, among the cushions. As she caught sight of me she start ed violently ; then stopping her carriage she made me a sign to enter it. The street was crowded so I obeyed her. 'How is Paul?' she asked anxiously as I seated my self beside her. When I told her how rapidly he had fallen she said eagerly : 'Will you take .me to see him ? I have so longed to see him.' "'Now ?' 1 questioned. ."'Yes. No one cares where I go;' and the tears rushed to her eyes. -"'You are ill, I fear,' I said gen t ly. "'You are much paler than you were at sea. I am a physician, you know, so you must let me pre scribe for yod.' . "She smiled gratefully. 'I have been ill but-I am better now. I think I am getting selfish and Ia zy and do not exert myself enough.' "After a time I forced myself to inquire for her husband and father. She colored quickly, saying in a low, constrained voice : 'Thank you, they are well. They are both ere.' "Then we did not spgak until we reached the quiet lodging I had procured for Paul. I had meant to go first and prepare him, thinking the surprise might be too great, but as we entered the ball his voise greeted us. 'I hear you; come, Kathleen.' it was only when I saw them together that I knew how much he had missed her. Ho seamed quite content to lie and hold her hand, gazing up at her with such a tranquil, rest ful look upon his face as it had not worn for weeks. He only let her go on the promise of seeing her every day. "Daring one of her visits she happened to mention having spent a few weeks in this village. It was such a quiet happy time, she said dremily. I always associate rest with that little hamlet among the hills. When I die I should like to be there. There was such a pretty grassy slope in the old churchyard. I wish I could think I would sleep there sometime.' Then she looked up with a smile. 'Do you know that I often see that green slope in my dreams,and once I saw a white cross stand ing there, and when I went to it my name was upon it." "Thbat night Paul had a long fit of pain; he fainted .several times; and the next day when Kathleen came, he said, quietly; 'Wo n't you stay with me now, Kathleen, till the lo? I t won't bea lng.' And Kathleen, glancing at my face promised him. "In the afternoon a fine drizzling rain commenced to fall, and when the twilight began to wrap the street and houses in its soft gray folds, I seated myself in one of the windows, listening to the drip, drip of the rain, and thinking what a dreary void my life would he before the next day's sun would rise. Paul and Kathleen were talking-in low tones, and now and then I could hear a few words. "'Is your mother like .you,Kath leen ? Then I shall know her. Now, tell me what I must say.' "'Tell her, Paul, that I am liv ing out her life ; that though the road be longand the path set thick with thorns, my feet like hers will some day reach the goal.' Then her voice broke, and she said, sob bingly: 'Oh, Paul, my brother, can you not take me, too ?' His answer was too low to reach my ear, but presently her sobs ceased, and then he called faintly: 'Philip!' I was beside him. immediately. 'Raise me up, Phil. No, don't ring for lights. I wish you could take me home, Philip, and lay me in the churchyard Kathleen speaks about. Hush, Kathleen, dear, and Philip you must hope and be pa tient. The beginning of the end seems very near to me.' Then his voice sank. Presently he stirred -'Kathleen -Philip'-and when I laid him down the smile that had settled on his pale young face was the smile with which he woke in heaven. "Leaving the dead body of my Paul in the care of our kindly land ord, I took Kathleen to her carri age. Then afraid to leave her, I accompanied her home. She was quite silent,only every little while she would sigh, shudderingly. As we neared their l-otel,she turned to me with an agonized gleam in her dark eyes: 'Now Paul is gone, 1 have no one-no one!' Then I said to her, quietly, with the shad >w of our great sorrow lying be tween us: 'Promise me, Kath leen, that if your burden shall be come too great for you to bear,you will let me help you ;' and she still ed her sobs to say, solemnly: 'Phil ip, I promise. "The next year was terrible to me. 1 missed Paul daily and hour ly, and life that had once seemed so full and bright, grew only a weary] oad,whbich I yet must bear. Thenl Iread Mr. Lamubert's death in a I French Journal. Poor Kathleen1 was released. Then I knew that the great hunger oi my life. might yet be satisfied. A love, whose ighty presence I had not guess ed sprung up in my heart. I wrote to her, sending the letter to Paris. I knew she did not1 ove him, so my haste was no in- i mIt. 'I am going to that village among the hills to wait. When you are free come to me. "I have looked for her every1 ay since then. Paul. in the burchyard yonder, and I in the >ld house here, wait for Kathleen's oming. H e r room is always eady. Would you like to see1 t?" I assented eagerly. Phil took p a lamp, and unlocking a door [ had not observed till then, led me into a large, handsome room, bright with soft, warm tints, and ade cheerful by the fire which i rackled and played upon the earth. The walls were hung with< ictures, the tables covered withi ooks, and in one corner stood a abinet filled with bronzes, exquis to statuettes, and here and there shine of go!d and gems. On he top lay a Bible, a prayer-book, nd a beautifully bound copy of Thomas a Kempis." Opening he latter I read: "To my wife.,De comber 17, 18--." "It will take hier some time to ook over her birthday presents," Phil said, in answer to my look f inquiry. "Yes, that is the last. December 17--it will soon be here." Ee stood looking into the fire and musingly stroking his long, gray eard. "She will be thirty-nine, Archie, and I am an old man. N[y faith sometimes wavers, but if lost it"-His face shadowed sud enly, and he sank into a chair with a weary sigh. Seeing he for the first time was unconscious of my presence, 1 col tinued my survey of the roon In one corner were grouped seve al rare ferns and a tea-rose bus] covered with buds. In one of ti windows hung a birdcage,its pre ty occupant curled up into a sof yellow ball. How pathetic to m were the faded yellow curtain telling, as they did, of the lonj patient waiting, the richness o hope deferred. When I returned to the fir Phil's eyes were fixed on a pictur that hung over the mantelpiece a woman's face, beautiful and sa< yet lighted with the radiance of divine hope. Beneath the pictui was a bracket, on which stood vase of flowers. "Phil, is that" "My wife. It was not meant fc her, yet the likeness is perfec With that look on her face, she waiting somewhere. I must n< despair now, Archie, when sh may be near." i On the moriftg of the 17th < December I was sitting in m room thinking of my friend. Th wind whistled without and noi sad then a few flakes of snoi were whirled against the wir dow pane. I was wonderin whether Phil would rather be alon< )r if I should go to him, when iote was handed to me. It wa in Phil's writing. "Archie, sh has come. I want you. Brin Abby with you; she is a sensibl woman, and can hold her tongue. Seizing my hat and cloak, an, elling Abby to follow, I hurrie )ver, Phil met me in the hall ; h :lasped both my hands and drei me into his office. "She came tc 3ight, in early darkness; she ha Llowed her father from city t ity, the only link that bound hir o a parer life; he died a mont igo, in London. She has. bee sold, hungry, desolate, but she ha :ome at last." Then he led me into the warmt and brightness of the nest, whos yird had at length flew home. A figure was lying on the 101 souch before the fire. "My wife ! Philip said fondly ; then I saw he ~ace beautiful with the beauty o eaven, and brightened now wit: Slight like the after-glow of th sunset; her hair was as white a ilver, but the eyes and the smil' w'ere young. Beside her Phil ha, ~laced the little cabinet; she hai seen examining its treasures everal lay in her lap. On a lii le table at her feet, where he ~yes could rest upon it, stood th ~ea-rose, in full bloom now. She greeted me with a smile hen, as Phil kneeled beside he he said, with a glance at the pic ure above the fire: "You wer old that was like me. Ah!1 Ph i p did not know what a poor ol woman was coming home to hit it last." "Kathleen, you say nothing C he old, old man you found." The look she turbed upon hit was the most beautiful I ever sas >n any face. "If I say nothinf Philip, it is because my heart i oo full for words." Hearing Abby in the hall, went out and left the two together When I came back Phil hianded m . prayer-book open at the marri ige service. "Do you mind using hat form, Archie ? Kathleen like He spoke so quietly, I looke< lumbly at himn,with the book ope1 n my hand. "Yes, Archie, that i hat we want; she has been m' wife these twenty years, but want all men to know it now." So in the presence of Abby an Phil's old housekeeper I marrie ~hem. How white the still whit ace on the pillows had become aut when the rite was ended sh urned to Philip with a radian mile: "'Till death us do part Death will not part us Philip." Days of quiet tranquil happ ess sped swiftly by, and in th gloom and cold before the dawi an Christmas morning Phil sen or me. I found Kathleen lying pale and faint, upon her pillowi ad Philip bending over her wit: the seal of a great and holy cala upon his face. I took my plac beside her in silence ; she smile gently. "I am going to spend m; Christmas day with Paul and m< i- ther. I wish Philip could come, t 1. too, but perhapa it won't be long." a r- She struggled a little for breath, I 1, and Phil raised her in his arms. i e "Waiting again my poor Philip," r t- she said fondly; "But I will be F t, near you all the time; this dear i e room your hands prepared for me, t s, God will let me come to it of- I , ten, I am sure. You will not t )f grieve much, Philip. Death is not parting for us, my Philip, it is on e ly waiting.". e The gray was leaving the east - ern sky, a faint rosy flush crept 1, over the snow, Phil signed to me a, and 1 repeated softly some of the e texts she loved. ~ She thanked me a with a smile, then her face chang ed; no shadow fell on it, only a 'wonderous light. "Philip I" she E r whispered, then the light grew . stronger, and in the first flush and a brightness of that Christmas morn t ing her soul went home. e Now the summer sun shines t bright!y on the churchyard grass, f the birds sing sweetly overhead, 3 y and the trees rustle their green e boughs in the soft air. Onthegreen v slope behind the church the grass 8 r is greenish, the flowers brightest; a L- there the birds come latest in the g fall. The sun has shot a beam of light through the leaves, it a trembles over the fair, white mar f s ble cross, and by its light you e read the name "Kathleen," and g underneath the words: "My wife." e . OtteI!lnrltf1z. .1 d d e IFrom the Lutheran Visitor.) WORLDLY PLEASURE. b NUMBER VII. e t 0 THE CONTRAST. t Let us exhibit, in contrast, with the Scripture quotations, so expres sive of real joy, in our last num- a ber, some selections from the hymnology of the world, and see a e how the praises and thanksgiving , connected with worldly pleasure Slinger for a while with no destina tion but the fickle passions and rthe delusive imagination-divin ities which, yielding to listlessness, turn away with disgust from the d escription of those delights that are followed by satiety. I select from the very best poets: "The thirsty earth soaks up the rain, And drinks, and gapes for drink again; - The plants suck in the earth, and areC .With constant drinking fresh and fair; The sea itself (which one would think rShould have but little need of drink) s Drinks twice ten thousand rivers up, So filled that they o'erflow the cup. .The busy sun and (one would guess t 'By 's drunken, fiery face no less) r Drinks up the sea and when he's done,. .The moon and stars drink up the sun. e They drink and dance by their own light, 8 They drink and revel all the night. - Nothing In nature 's sober found, I But an eternal health goes round. Fill up the bowl, then, fill it high, Fill all the glasses there; for why c Should every creature drink but I?''d f [ Cowlr., "Hence loathed melancholy; But come, thou goddess fair and free, In Heaven yclep'd Euphrosyne; s Haste thee Nymph, and bring with thee a Jest and youthful jollity, e Quips, e'nd cranks, and wanton wiles, F [Nods, and becks, and wreathed smiles, Such as hang on Hebe's cheek, and love to live in dimple sleek; a Sport that wrinkled care derides, -And laughter holding both his sides. SCome, antrip itas you go, BOn the light fantastic toe. [MILTON. k SStinkingest of the stinking kind, Filth of the mouth and fog of the mind, t i Africa that brags her foyson.1 B Breeds no succh prodigious poison. Herbane, nightshade, both together, Hemlock aconite--,t Nay, rather, Plant divine of rarest virtue;e Blisters on the tongue would hurt you. 'Twas but in a sort I blamed thee;- r None e'er prospered who defamed thee; v e * * * * * * * * * .For thy sake TOBACCO, I Would do anything but die. And but seek to extend my days, tLong enough to sing thy praise. (CHARL.B8 LAx3.e U Fly not yet, 'tis just the hour When pleasure like the midnight flower That scorns the eye of vulgar light, e Begins to bloom for sons of night e 1 And for maids who love the moon! S'Twas but to bless these hours of shade 0 That beauty and the moon were made; 'Tis then their soft attractions glowing SSet the tide and goblets flowing. Oh stay-Oh stay 1Joy so seldom weaves a chain iLike this to-night, that:Ohl 'tis pain e To break its linksso soon. 3 tMoonz. rThe heavenly pleasures on earth do not ratig-e. They elcite -to con.. .e inuons praise and, thanksgiving, ,nd become more intense and inex austible by enjoyment. Scarcely s a person disposed to thankful iess, after returning home from a ashionable route. There is wear ness and haste to forget in slum ier the satiety, which is nothing ess than a helpless surrender to he Prince of the power of the air. JoHN ARNDT. VALUE OF T H E MORNING HOURS. Tom nes was a little fellow, ,nd not so quick to learn as some oys, but no one in the clast ould beat him in his lessons. He arely missed in geography, and iever in spelling, and his arithme ic was always correctly done; as Dr his reading no boy improved ike him. The scholars were fair y angry sometimes, he outdid hem so constantly. "Why, Tom when do you learn our lessons? You don't study in chool more than any other boys." "1 rise early in the morning, and tudy two hours before breakfast," ,nswered Tom. Ahl that is it. "The morning our has gold in its mouth." There is a little garden near us, rhich is the prettiest and most ruitful spot in the neighborhood. 'he earliest radishes, peas, straw erries, potatoes, grow there. It upplies the family with vegeta les, besides some for the market f acybody wants flowers the gar en furnisheathe sweetest roses, inks, and"all gorts" without num er. The soil, we used to think, ras poor and rocky, besides being xposed to the north wind; and he owner is at his business all ay, yet he never hires any one o dig or wed for him. "How do you make so much of our little garden ?" he was once sked. '-I give my mornings to it," he nswered; "and I don know rhich is the most benefitted by qy work my garden or I." HOW TO CHoosE A WIFE.-That -oung lady wilt make you a good ife who does not apologise when 'o find her at work in the kitch n but continues at her task until a is finished. When you hear a lady say, "I hall attend church and wear my Id bonnet*and water-proof cloak, yr I fear w e shall 'have ~a rain torm," depend upon it she will iake a good wife. When a daughter remarks, "Mo ber, I would not hire help, for I an assist you to do all the work 2 the kitchen," set it down that be will make somebody a good ife. When you hear a young lady lying to her father, "Don't pur base a very expensive or showy ress for me, but what will wear Le best," you may be certain she ril make a good wife. WoMAN.-Lest there should be ny doubt concerning the superi r smartness of woman,the follow g instance is given in proof : ~Then Mrs. Whittlesey, the Forth mton cashier's wife, saw the urgars take her husband's gold ratch she kicked hers under the reau and saved it. And -when er new cloak was in the robber's ands she said, "Give me that old hng; I'm cold," and saved that kewise. The person who fur ishes these details adds with unc ion:. If this woman had been at e bank when the vault was open d she would have persuaded the obbers that half those papers ere nothing but family milk ills. in cycles of 21,000 years the arth has alternate periods of nusual heat and cold, either f which is said by the scientists ysuperinduce on its surface an tirely new and different set i animals. Transported for life-the man rho marries happily. How to raise bets-take hold f the tops and pull. A boarding establishment-a unpantne's shop. ADVERTISINC RATES@ Advertisements inserte at the raws of 1100 per square-one inch-forrt AM hortion, axd 75e. for each subsequent Insertion. Double wolumn advertisements tenpereenton Aboreo. Notices of meetings.,obituaries and tributel of respect, same rate per square as ordibury advertisements. Special notices in local ,colum 15 cento per line. Advertisements tiot mnarked wN The num ber of insertions vill- be keptj-IIM forbid and charged amcrdin&l.' Special contracts made with large adver tisers, with HWrW ddedns on above raft. Done with Neatness and Dispath Terms Cash. WHAT MAUDE ALL THE DIFo FERENdge THE ROAD TO A FATHER'S HEART HOW A YOUNG MAN GOT A WI. Jacob Bliven is a young Man who lived in Alleghenny; he was desperately in love with Amelia S., and Amelia was said toflly re ciprocate the youth's attachment. Jacob thought it was -time to broach the subje'et to Amelia's -fa. ther, who'was unaware that BI'V en's uncle had died two weeks b&. fOre, leaving Jake a handsoMe leg. acy. The young man with Amelia on his arm, came into the'awfid presence of the fiaher. "Good evening, Mr. S.,"1 said Blivens, hesitatingly, -while.Aie lia grew scarlet. "Eh I" exclaimed the old gentle. man, looking up, and his prophetic soul telling him what was com ing. "What's this ?" "Why, Amelia and me"laom "Aeiititrute h l