Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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A Family Companion, Devoted to Literature, Miscellany, News, Agriculture, Markets, &c Vol. X . WEDNESDAY MORNING, SEPTEMBER 6, 1876. No. 36. THNE H E RAL D IS PUBLISHED EVERIY W.EM\,p-A.Y MORNING2 At Newberry, S. C. BY THOS. F. GREMEKEIR, E ditor and Proprietor. Terms., $2.50* jper .fssnu InVariably in Advance. 1:Q The paper is stopped at the expiration of time for whic it Is Paid. a3l The >4 n4rk denotes expiration of sub FCription. GROWING OLD. SOftY, 0, softly the years have sweptbr thee, Touching thee lightly with tenderest care; SO=rw and death they did often bring nigh thee, Yet theY bave leh thee bat beauty to-wear. Qowig old gracefully, Gt acllly fai.. Far frOm the storms that are lashing the ocean, Nearer each day to the pleasant home light; Far from the waves that are big with com motion, Under full sail and the harbor in sight. Growifig old cheerfully, Cheerful and brigh t. Past all the winds that are adverse and Chillg, Past all the islands that lured thee to rest, Past all the currents that wooed thee un willing Far'from the port and the land of the blest. Growing old peacefully, Peaceful and blest. Never a feeling of envy or sorrow When the l2right faces of children are seen; "Good!" he said kissing her. "As a matter of form, I will make all arrangements for our marriage, and will be at the edge of the wood in rear of your father's house, at exactly eight o'clock this evening, and will have a buggy not far off. As a signal, I will imitate the cry of a whip -poor-will, which I can do with great exactness. On hearing that, you come out at the rear door, run across the lawn and join me. Then, very quietly-without ever speaking-we will hurry away to our conveyance." They supposed that only the in nocent little birds heard this very confidential dialogue, and. there was no fear that they would reveal the plot. Alas ! how the lovers must have trembled had they caught a glimps of the angry face that frowned upon them from behind a great tree a few yards distant. An hour later, old Jacob Morton entered the village, which was only a half mile distant, and walked into the real estate office of Lewis Hard ing, finding that gentleman in. "What do you think ?" he ex claimed, excitedly. "I don't know. What has hap pened ?" asked Harding. "Why; they've met again-had a confab in the wood." "Ah! How did you find it out?" "I was there." - Harding turned pale. "What! you don't mean-" "Without their' knowledge," ex plained Mr. Morton. "I stood be hind a large end heAA them will you believe it ?-planned a de liberate elopement. Oh, the au dacity of-" "An elopement! When?" "This very evening." "What! And did you-" "I felt like rushing forth and striking hini, but a better plan oc eurred to me. Let the elopement go on, but you be the party instead of Jordan." (Here Mr. Morton de tailed minutely the plan of the lovers as he overheard it.) ~"Now, you go to the appointed place in the edge of the wood, and there conceal yourself; Gd a little ahead of time. Then he will come and give tjhe'signal at the proper time. It will take her about two minutes to reach the place, because she will move slowly in order to make no noise. Meantime there shall be another person in the lawn-whom I shall bribe for the purpose-who will step out and join him before Clara has time to get- out of the house; and he thinking it is my daughter will~ hasten away .with her. Soon after, Clara will .join you, thinking that you.are Jordan. Then take her to where you have a buggy waiting, and drive to the church, which you can to day ar range to have open and lighted up. She will not discover her mistake till she is standing at the altar by your side. I will be there, and I believe- she will marry you without without a word.". "Capital! capital my dear fa ther-in-law-for I think I may now safely call you so. What a dear, shrewd father-in-law it is !" said Harding,. foppishly. Mr. Morton placed his index finger, by the side of his nose and looked very knowing after which he bade his intended son-in-law a glo rious good-afternoon and left. On reaching home he asked where Clara was. "Out walking yet, sir," replied the servant girl, Mary Malone. "Well, Mary," said he, I want you to do me a great favor, and if. you succeed I will make you a present of a twentyfdollar bill." He then confided to her that he had overheard Clara and Will Jor dan planning an elopement, gave the details, revealed his plan for check mating them, and informed her of the part he wished her to play. "Very well, sir ; I'll do it," said Mary. 'Thank you; and you shall have your money Lo-morrow." Mary went about her work, mut tering to herself: "Twenty dollars ! oh ! I wouldn't betray Clara for twenty hundred. I'll tell her every word, you hard hearted old sinner, if I lose my Iplace by it." Ten minutes later Clara returned, and promptly sh~e tQld her tJs Lwhole story. "Oh, dear! that will deteat us for the present," said Clara. "No, it will only assist you," re plied Mary. "How ?" "I will tell you." And Mary lowered her voice, lest the very wall should hear, and told what her plan was. "Oh, Mary, you dear girl!" Clara exclaimed, "You'll lose your place by it, but you shall have a better one." Mary's plan-whatever it was seemed to please Clara, and as the afternoon wore away, five persons waited anxiously for eight o'clock. The shadows of night were gath ering, when a male figure crept along the edge,of the wood, and crouched among some bushes op posite the rear of Mr. MQrton's house, muttering: "She's getting ready. She little imagines. she is going to elope with L. H., Esq, _Ha ! ha ! The old buffer an I .are just six too many for William Jordan, and Clara Harding that is to be. About the same time, a sly old man quietly seated himself by a back window of the lower floor, and watched. "It's working nicely," he mut tered, as a female figure glided across the l4wn and *hid in the shrubbery ne.r the wood. . About this time female figure number two, let us call her--took a seat at a window of Clara Morton's room, and gazed anxiously towards the gloomy wood. Finall, anTther~male fig number two-appeared at the edge of the wood, where a gate led into the lawn, and the cry of a whip por-will was heard upon the still ness of the night. Instantly female figure number one passed quietly out through the gate, seizing the arm of male figure number two, and hurried away into the gloom. "Good !" chuckled the sly old man at the window. "Good!'' said miale figure number one, who lurked in the bushes. A quarter of a minute-a half -three-quarters-a minute - two. -three-four. "Why doesn't she come ?" "Why doesn't she come ?" also muttered the sly old man at the lower window. "Oh, there she goes, at last ! Probably forgot something. Nervous, no doubt. ow for the village !". A female figure-number two emerged from the rear door of the building, stepped out a few paces into the lawn, looked around ner vously, then walked stealthily to ward the wood. At the gate she met male figure, number one, who had now come forth from his place of concealment, and they hurried through the wood toward a lane not far off. A buggy was waiting there, and they got in and drove toward the village. They stopped at the church and went in. The interior was lighted up, and-a score or more of people sat in the front pews. The.newly arrived pair .walked straight up the aisle and stood1 in front Qf the gitar. A moment later the-sly old man came in and complacently took a seat. The lady was closely veiled, and her male companion - who, of course, was lir, Harding-kept his own face somewhat averted, as if from bashfulness. "She may say the word that makes her my wife before sh dis covers that I am not Jordan," he muttered; and he trembled a little. The minister proceeded with his usual solemnity, and was just ut tering the words."If any man can show just cause why they may not be joined," etc., when the sly old man started from his seat and yelled: "Look here ! what's all this ? That isn't my daughter !" "What !" exclaimed Harding. -Everybody started. "Why you haven't got her, you blundering donkey !" exclaimed the plain spoken old man. " There she And he pointed excitedly to a pew at the right of the altar, where, lo ! Will Jordan and Clara sat calmly.. "Why-why," stammered Hard ing, addressing his companion, .What does this mean ? Who are She removed her veil, and stood revealed-Mary Malone. "How's this ?' demanded Mr. Morton, no longer sly. " Don't know," replied Mary. "Guess we must have got mixed up. somehow." "Then thinistake shall be cor rected !" said Mr. Morton, angrily. i "Clara, step right up and marry a Mr. Harding! Do you hear ?"$ "Mr. Morton," interposed the i minister, "that cannot be. She I has just been married to Mr.. Jor- I dan." The recently sly old man had ta- C ken a step towards Clara, as though t he would have dragged her to the a altar; but he soon paused, feeling t very much like uttering a few im- ] precations; but remembering where q he was, he summoned his reason and better nature to his aid, and 5 said : "Sold !" "'Sold !" repeated Harding, with an accent of-despair. "Sold !" echoed Mary Malone, y rogueishly. "Sold !" reiterated Will Jordan i and bride. V "Sold !"' rang through the holy I edifice, accWP anied by a loud and t merry liugh; and even the minis- y ter, before he knew it, found him self smiling, and muttering the word, "sold !" Old Ja6ob Morton, though obsti nate and self-willed, was not a vin dictive man, and realizing that what was done could not be undone, and C that it could do no good to rave v owI ~ widke&-over-toWflL and Clara, and shook hands with c them, saying : t "Yes-sold! Now I'll freely for- r give both of you, and all conderned" t -here he glanced at Mary Malone j -"if you will tell me how it was done. " "'ll tell you then,"' said Clara,. "for I know y6u will keep your h word. Mary'divulged to me what you and Mr. Harding had put up . on Will and me, and~ suggested a plan to baffle you. Instead of go- 3 ing out'into the lawn to personate i me an'd deceive Will, she remained' a in my room, while I went forth and' g personated her to deceive you. I I therefore joined Will as soon as I r; heard the whip-poor-will, and we v left. Mary then came down and h eloped with Mr. Harding." a "Such perfidy ! I-well, I prom- e ied to for'give all, and I'll do it !" u "Well, I wouldn't, if I were you"!" ti said Lewis Harding ; and pale with I anger and disappointment he strode q from the Church. "It's an~ out- n rage !" -fi "Sue him for breach of prom~ise!I" s. were the words that fellowed him k as he went out into the dreary h~ night.k It was Mary Malone who spoke k them. S The English government is try- p ing to introduce the American n caotchoue tree into India, where o india rubber is obtained, but mositly a from a creeping plat. t. Already a the cinchona tree has been so suc- 2 cessfelly introduced that $70,000 a worth ~of bark was exported last p p Mr.-'Singlemnan, of Greenville, N. t] J., forced a quid of tobacco into his tl wie's mouth the other day and kept tl it there until she became sick. t1 Now his wife wishes she had re- c rpaied a single woman instead of t: becoming g Siinglenman. a "Mamma," asked a precocious fa youngster at the tea-table the other t evening, after a long and yearning gaze toward a plate of doughnuts, "Mamma, do you think I could y stand another of those fried holes." i She thought he could. I The abdication of the Sultan gave s three thousand American newspa pers an opportunity to remark that 'the Sultan Abdul Aziz is the Sul tan Abdul as was.' And yet some persons declare that American hu mor is dying. Good words and good deeds are the rent we owe for the air we breathe. c Nothing can be love to God 1 which does not shape itself into 1 WHY HE LEFT. Some months ago Colonel Bangs ,ngaged a young fellow named scudder as sub-editor of the Morn ng Argus. On the. day before the niversary of Bunker Hill, Bangs sked Scudder if he was familiar vith that battle, and Scudder said te was. So Bangs told Scudder te would like him to write up a ittle sketch of it for the anniversary lay, and Scudder said he would ry. The next morning the sketch ppeared in the paper and at acted much attention. When langs saw it he called Scudder in nd said: "Mr. Scudder, didn't -on tell me that you were familiar 7ith the battle of Bunker Hill?" Yes sir." "Well, if that is the ase, I will be obliged if you will tell ie what you mean when you say: By 4 o'clock the Confederate troops rere read3 for" the attack. Gen. Vashington had the catapults put a line to await their coming; and rhen Napoleou saw them he drew is trusty sword and said, 'Soldiers! wenty centuries look down upon on!' - "No sooner were the battering ams leveled against the wall of the astle than the Duke of Wellington ent word- to his mother, by Gen. utler, that he would either win or e brought back on his shield. Then rdering his men to fire at the rhite of the enemy's eyes, he waited e--.set with all -that majestic almness which ever distinguished be great hero . of Buena Vista. 'his was the very crisis of the bat e, .Joan of Are ,spying Qen, ackson -behind the otton bales, ashed at him upon her snow white barger, swinging her ponderous awe axe over her head, her fair air streaming behind her in the rind. As her steed rushed for rard her hair caught in the bough f a tree, an4, as -she hung there ergeant Bates shot her through ae heart with a bolt from an equebus. Her last words were, )on't, give up the ship !' The ske could stand it no longer, 'he Mamelukes had slain all the nguard-Gen. Sickles had lost ii leg and retired on a'pension, ad the enemy's sigirmishers, lodged the top of the Bunker Hill Mon ment, were pouring boiling oil on iose who attempted to scale it. leapiing from his horse, he shointed. Jp, guards, anid at them !'~ and the ext moment, with the glorious ag of truce in one hand and his vrd in the other, he hurled his gions upon the lava beds, crush ig the savage foe to the earth, and illing, among others, the well nown General Harrison, after 'ards the President of the United tates.' I think we shal * e to art, Mr. Scudder. It sees to Le that your career as a journalist aght to end right here. I 'wvill cept your resignation. Xnd if ay one asks you why you left the .rgus, point oat this paragraph, ad say that it was because the roprietor was afraid he'd murder au when he read your statement at, at the Battle of Bunker Hill ieConfederates lost 80,000, and ie Carthagenians only 600 ; and iat there is no spot in Virginia iat the people hold more sn red than that bloody hill where de bones of Cromwell lie with those f Roger Williaws.' Point to that ugage, MIv. Scudder, and your iends will understand the situa A Lancaster hen has won noto lety by laying an egg which close. resembles a pear in its shape, nt this is not as remarkable as if de fowl had laid a pear closely re embling an egg in its shape. ]Trvey discovered the circula ion of the blood before he was birtyfour. Yet some editors get be over a hundred before they an discover the exact circidationi I their own newspapers. Woman has many advantages sver man-; one of them is that his ill-has no operation till he is dead, hereas hers generally takes effect a hr life-time. TIM THE FISHERMAN. I knew a tinker once-Tinker Tim I have called him, though it was not his name; but that was when days begun to turn upon the trade, though there was still a living to be had by walking and working for it. Tim was the strangest of fellows-a most en thusiastic fisherman ; he knew every bit of open fishing for twenty miles round London, and a good many that were not open, too, to some of which he was not always unwel come; for Tim knew many rare secrets of the art not chronicled by Dennys, and could impart them judiciously when he chose; and, if a fervent angler had such a thing as a particularly large and wary trout who had resisted all the al-. lurements he was master of, he was not now and then above consulting the tinker, who was to be trusted, and was no-poacher. Sometimes Tim was mighty quiet and self-contained. He had little beyond the time of day andl g good word or two for a stranger; but for the old acquaintance and gossip whom he knew and liked he could be blithe as a bird and com municative as you please. 7im was one of those free and happy souls who haven't a spark of envy or jealousy in their composi tion; who. would tell a disconso late fly-fisher which was the killing fly, and ghow a fishless banker the killing swim and bait, or perform any other kiPdl7 office in his power. He was a first-rate fisherman him gel,--and _.ith a rod made of old =nbrella-sticks, t dely bis own skill, and witha few fine orrel hairs plled out of some stallion's tail, he often prodticd' marvelous results. Everything, ven his reel, w4s home-made, and, rough as it all looked, hd had sun Iry ingenious appliances of his own which were by no means unworthy f notice. Tim was a wonderful %ad at baits. We always had baits >f one kind or another, or knew where to get them at short notice, which would catch fish, and the ld formula of worms, gentles anrd ~reaves, the ustial bait of the punt sher, he utterly abjured and scorn ad as a formula. He just used what aver he -could get-grasshoppers, aumble-bees, wasp grubs, anything ie could easiest come by. He once, vith a mixture of rotten cheese, fat ustf bacon and buttercups (to give i color), all miashed together, made mch a take of chub as I have sel oio seen; and once, when no orms could be got, he made a swinging take of barbel by baiting with some chopped up butch~er's raps. He was never at a loss ; if le could not get one thing he used mother. -His great point was his mowledge of the state of water, md how it affected the various swims. !HE MAN OF MANY MISFOR TUNgs, To begin with, he was born of oor parents-which first misfor ~une was enough. to make him wish e had never been born-and his ~roubles commenced very soon af er that event. At six weeks of ge the whooping cough seized him, md after days of pain and sorrow, e apparently died. His mother 'laid him out," and told her neigh ors he was dead. They all wept >ver the pretty little corpse, when yne of them, of a meddlesome dis osiion, thought from his looks, ~hat there might be life in him, and ~ommenced blowing breath into his ungs, and tossing him in her arms. Ee came back to life again. When de was six months old his sister ocked him out of the cradle into m old fashioned fire-place, and eft him lying.under the "forestick," n a hot bed of coals, *while she went out to call her moth~er, who wvas picking up chips in the door ard. He was so badly burned hat all the flesh came off his arms, Leaving the bone bare. One side f his head was full of live coals when he was picked up, and his yelids were so burned that when hey healed they grew together, :losing the eyes. A year later the octor severed the lids, found the ayes all right, and. the eyesight was good. Life, with this subject, was eot unusually rugh again until he was six years old, when he was seized with rheumatic fever, and it ended in a fever sore on his right leg. The bone decayed and passed away from the knee to the ankle, and a consultation of physicians was held on the subject of amputa tion. It was decided that he was too weak to stand it, and so the limb remained upon the trunk. Months afterward it began to heal, and after three years of crutch gym nastics he was well again. Hardly had he thrown aside the crutches when he fell from a tree, bieaking his right arm. It began to heal promptly, but one night he thrashed, it ovrii he head of his bed, made a' new break, inflammation got into it, ulceration followed it, and after six months lying in bed he had it am putated at the shoulder. After that he had the measles and ty phoid fever, 'which caused an eigh teen months' illness-but after all, with only one arm, with one leg shorter by three inches than the other, and one ankle jointless and stiff, this man follows chopping as a business, and can put up a cord and a half of wood a day. [Berkshire Covnty (Pa.) Eagle. HOTEL CLERK AND TAILOR. The hotel clerk I venerate in the abstract, but I am rather afraid to approach him in the concrete. My experience is that when he does not snub you he patronizes you, and I'd t6bout as lief be killed one way as another. Where moral character and that sort of thing tells, I feel particularly at fiome; but where a man is judged only b y Es 'clOthes nde,-sHte and I am backward about coming forward. 'Can I have a room ?' I modestly ask after registering my name. Clerk looks at. me. a moment, takes in the general unostentatious ness of my apparel at a glance, turns away and attends to the swells who get credit of Bell in stead of buying for cash of Porter, chats with the young men whom he knowvs for a few minutes, and when everybody else is roomed and he has settled the pen right behind his ear, then he calls the smallest bell-boy in the office and turns to me with, "Show this gentleman up to 993!' And by this time I feel so humble about it that I bow to the bell-boy and look round for his bag and wonder how I'm to find No. 993 -to show him to. I narrate now no particular grievance consider this as the statemnent 'mnere1ig of a great gen eral fact. Nor think that I blame the hotel clerk of the period.. On the contrary, I am convinced that the fault lies with my tailor, to him I shall address myself for a correc tion -of the fault; he must sling more style into my clothes, so to speak, tighten up my trousers' legs a trifte, roll the. collar of my coat down lower, and add a foot or two to its skirt. Otherwise I shall have to wear a placard on my breast stating exactly how much these clothes do cost, for if you suppose that my tailor doesn't charge as much as any other one, just try him on once !-John Paul, in the NA7ew York Tribune. 'Py Schiminy, how dot poy stud ies de languages!' is what a de lighted elderly German said when his four-year-old son called him a blear-eyed son of a saw-horse. The exhibition is closed on Sun days on religious grounds. Twen ty tihousand people hang around the fences all day on secular grounds. In a French translation of Skak spere, the passage, 'Frailty, thy name is . woman,' is translated, 'Mademoiselle Frailty is the name of the lady.' A- great many of our exchanges indulge in cutting satire ; that is, they cut it~ from other papers and pass it off as their own. A shirt-dealer advertises a bosom warranted to wear longer than the shirt. But who wants a bosom longer than his shirt?i Fourteen ne wspapers are sup porting the greenba.ck ticket. IADVERTISINC RATEAG Advertisemewts inserted at the rate of $1.00 75c. for each subsequent insertion. Double colamn advertisements tenper cent on above Notices of meetings, obituaries aind tribult( B of respect, same rates per square as ordinaiy advertisements. Speelal notices in local column 15 conis perline. Advertisements . ot marked with the wnm b.;" of inzertions will be kept in tinl forbid and charged accordingly. Special contracts made with larg adver tisers, with libera ldeftedions on above rates J e. Ps, rx= te Done with Neatness and Dispatch Terms Cash. TRUTHS* Mde people have the most labor. Judge not of men and things at first sight. Mlisfortunes are the discipline of humanity. Slander always leaves a slur. Education makies or mars US. -Seek till you find and you will not lose your labor. Envy is honor's most secret, ene MY. Mean men admire weath; great men seek true glory. Lose no opportunity of doing A4 good action. Give your friend counsel with" caution. Inmdustry is never unfruithnL Sobriety is the streniigth of :the soul. -Thatis well spoken. that is.*eIL taken. Be not a figure among- ciphers. Want of punctuAli ty Is a 'ec-m4 of falsehood.