Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page. It is also available as plain text as well as XML.

,THE HERALDAIVTIIGRES SI .00 per square (one inch) for first insertfor r - and 75 cens for each subsequent insertiot'. IS PUBLISHED Double column advertisements ten per cent s- on above avERYWEDNSDAY-)J-QNotices of meetings,obituaries andtribn:cs VERYof respect, same rates per square as ordinas - advertisements. ju Newberry, S. C. eil Notices in Local column.15 cen BY TH~3. . GRRNRKR, IAdvertisements not marked with the an-. BY TH(OSc P, GRENEKKER,tTr e t lar Editor aiA Proprietor. t h de - sia e ra Terms, per *tUnt, Invarialy, in dvance.A Family Companion, Devot6d to Literature, Miscellany, New,A rcluecakts c O RII1' Invariabl in Advance. 7-he aper 1! at ped atthe expiration of - dine for wscD it is 16, 1881. TR S XVII NEWBERRY, S. C., WSM1.N exiato ol.XVI. ~e. Iaos and Organs. p 0 O Z a B L DR. E EAKSN teove tosoetodorAett Ind I m ar Or polytneo p 1 1-f cs a o givs he ymtom, a-s, hebs :00 z posn;a tab wit ane raigo th horse' teet aifrntes, Jwhles DRERSALN00 STOE.IT COLUMB8,,SS. C. ate pis AOres-pot-Ly attnde lctorso.Aei ApgFIr STRET WASINTON D Pracisc etla nellitU'rncesi gthes Ptenstoms candin ahd Supeestn pCincuipa douts uor the hrsed ith Pam phoisnt tabe wnript enrain fp te Porteslngeve heYurse;ldotkse! aubE. ifrat. CalTOdKES, cpy HRAEL BOOKBSTOREl. u. as ovdstet heCt'Hal.hr be i full praedN, wit rfrtcls work-I ANKBOOKSa anD ictor any Atter cn oa n and styreig aentse. Practies atn lwon acquitsace with the Patesfie nd in to uree asac ptientre on ersp orn Books, iroadst Corte ri. s Prba epd. Mas3tr.i PEervan ter Yourt Oldiciaks. E. R. STOKES, Hai moet opposite the City~ Hll, hr Oecs.ll p8, pard,wit firlumia worC. eTohis lln knds otewo is on for line re citiofess and ng propinneo wih thae bsnes enort to guate satisfac- h traoeon orders fo Bairy Boos, Raload r Boksabn Bs,o the u aesentivCek ac M Courot,n Serants,andt Jude.rastehrs .mphiets a zie une, 24-tf.per aneioiassdalkidofp liaon Oct. 8. 10 Cotia,S NEWBERR HOEL -BY-D A. 071 IT. SIMOS WhseeatnwHtl snwoe o h recetionof uest, aDteprriorwl travel t.4 efrrclo- 0 fot h fo4abl =r~ Ph eto se,28lie 0*moatn 0evrt,n modt hre C-9-teul ~ Jus,2-f .Uscellaneous. J. B. LEONARD, Dealer in GROCERIES, Wines, Liquors, Segars Tobacco, &c. Respectfully informs the public that his itock is full and complete in all lines. Choice Goods, Low Prices, POLITE ATTENTION. Main Street, Newberry, S. C. Nov. 24 48 tf NATURESOWN REMEDY A VEGETABLE MEDICINE FOR THE BLO0;LMR&KDNYS. ~UBTIL1 A medicinal "com SMIATINE, g g9FR%u For Blood Diseases. aration tie curative - powern for the erils. which produce all dis CURATINE, eases of the Stood. t! rALver, tIme x1#111MI, For Liver Complaints. Hariness in actio J thoro ngi its _eEftcL CURATINE , is n colled for he cure.qf a1l Bhood INS CURA,.ease*suchm 13 S.e"Pf For Kid:ey Disease. u taor-.ZW1, 2AeeuuaatiSnaMer CURATINE, . ft-". t!: For Rheumatis a e9 -Sto -cs, etenton of CURATINEY D'"''" For Scrofula DiseaftS. ASK YOUR DRUGGIST FOR IT. CURATINE9 mommmm Erot tr- BALTIMORE, Md. Wholesale by DOMIE & MoisE, Wholesale Druisu, Charleston, W. C. I5--y. NEVER FAILS To Give Entire Satisfaction. A pill that has become standard and is having an unprecedented sale throughout the South, is GILDER'S Liver Pills, They are honest, They are certain, They have no equal, And are recommended by thousands as be in -nd doing ail tha; the proprietors clain for them. They have never failed to have the de sired tftect where other pills have been un successfully tried. -AT W. E. PELHIAM'S. Dec. 15, 47-ly. RED VON SANTEN fV9 KING ST., CHARL.ESTON, S. C. BEADQUARTEIS FOR Children's Carriages, Velocipedes, Croquet, &c. IN and OUT DOOR GAMES ']OYS, at Wholesale and Retail, French Confectionery, Home Madi Cream and Stick Candy, Rubl"or Goods, such as Clothing, Nur sery SheetIings Eurekas, &c., &c. gg Orders fronm the country receuv prompt attentuon. Jan. 19, 47--sm. 1880. 1880. GRIND tmiNRI HOTEL (Formerly the Wheeler House,) COLUMltBIA., S. C. THOOGHLY RENOVATED, EEFURNISHED AND REFITTEE TERMS, $2.00 T $3.00 PER DAY. JOHN T. WILLEY, Propriet'r Nov. 10, 46-tf. HENRY BAYER, IMPORTER 'OF BANTANAS, COCOANUTS AND DRANGEl And Wholesale Dealer in Apples, Potatoes, Onions, &c. 215 EAST BAY, CHARLESTON, S. C. o 7 Prompt attention gien to count PAVILION HOTEL CHARLESTON, S. C. This popular and centrally located Hou has been entirely renovat ed during the pa sammer and was REOPENED to the trav4 ing public on August 16,1880. Terms, $2 and $2.50) per Day. I- o m.-at PROPRIEWOR CV d 111 FIR-ST LOVE. I remember MeetiDg you In September, r Sixty-two, We were eating, Both of us; And the meeting Happened thus: Accidental, On the road (Sentimental Episode), I was gushing, You were shy; You were blushing So was I; I was smitten, So were yon (All that's written . Here is true); Any money? Not a bit.. Rather funny, Wasn't it? Vows we pligbted Happy pair! How delighted People were! But your father- b To be sure- f Thought it rather Premature; And your mother Strange to say Was another In the way. What a heaven Vanished then (You wet tven, I was tea)! That was many Years ago Don't let any- ] Body know. t [W=rrEN Fo-R Ta NEwBERRY HERALD.1 a AT LAST. -0 BY CLYDE WAYNE. t -0 For ten years had Sadie been a true and loving wife. Loving, did I say ? And yet"there were moments when a memory of the past would haunt her, and a feel ing that her love had been bought overshadow her peace. And now she was standing beside the bed and bearing these dread words from the old physician. 'Be brave, my boy. You have only a few days to live.' 'Ab, Dr. I It .is hard to die and leave her.' Sadie heard in a dazed way. and burying her face in her hands she kneeled beside her huaband's bed, and as the old man left them alone, she burst into an uncon trollable anguish. 'Oh Carlton !' she cried, 'I can not give you up ! You must not leave me, my husband.' He put one hot hand on the bowed head before he answered: 'But, my darling, if it is God's will we must submit in patience. But, Sadie, who will care for you when 1 am gone! You have been a true wife to me in all these years. But-you will not mind speaking of it now-I once thought you loved another. .1 knew he loved you, and would al ways love, for Dean Harrington was a man who would love but once anid deeply. And if he should ome to yon emember I am' 'Oh Carlton, of what are you speaking. Do not pain me by als luding to the past. He will never come again. I sent him away,' she cried, the pent-up love of long years at last finding vent. These were strange words to be uttered to a husbaud, but Carlton Wayne's brow did not once cloud or bis loving eyes wander from the face of his wife. 'Don't cry now, Sadie. You could not help it. And I am to blame. I came in his way and stole your heart while he was '9 away ; and when you awoke to the full realization of your feel ings it was too late, you were my wife. I have rei your heart, r Sadie, ebild. Have read all your - brave si.ruggles to overcome that love. And now you will soon be Sfree, and Dean will c->me back to you, and you will be bappy.' With white, set face, Sadie o had beard him through, and when he had finished and drew her gently to him she burst into an uncontrollable sobbing. 'Oh Carlton, how can you love me when I have been so base ! Oh my husband, forgive me I In. ced I have tried, have prayed, b, so earnestly, against it. My usband-my own !' Shame and sorrow dyed her ir check as she nestled close to in. He softly lifted the full ound face and looked long and )vingly into the dark eyes that -ere downcast. ,Sadie, I have nothing to for ive, darling. No truer wife has ver blessed a man's heart. And is only of you I am thinking. ou will be left alone. Promisei ie darling, that you will not, brough a mistaken idea of duty, fuse to be happy when I am one. Dean will come back-I el it-and he will come to you. romise me, Sadie.' 'No, Carlton, I cannot promise on that. And God forgive me bat I have lived a lie.' Slowly the hours drag on, and adie watches them as they urely ebb out the life pulse of er husband. Oh the agony of -eling him slipping away and eing powerless to stay the part ag hour! And then it was over! She 7as alone in the world, and a reat feeling of her loss and a hadow of remorse, that he had o easily read her heart, possessed er. She could not bear to stay ai the great, gloomy house now. verything about the place rough- back a remembrance of he dead, and at last she could tand it no lon ger. Hasty arrangements were made, ,nd again she turned her face to he little village home from vbence she had come ton years efore. Her aunt met her as she ft the train, and for the first ime in many weeks Sadie gave -et to a torrent of tears. 'Dear child, you must not cry . Aunty knew you would come ain to the home-nest. And . have your own little room ready 'or you. I am so glad you have :me,' the dear old lady said, )ushing aside the long black veil Lnd placing the soft, motherly )and on the hot brow just as she ised to do in ber infancy. How unchanged the old place ieemed. Even the elder bushes vere still struggling over the low vhite gate just as they were on ;hat evening when she had met Dean Harrington and told him ihe was married. She could well remember the stern, bitter curve f his lip as he said : 'Thben, Sadie, good-bye. And nmay you be hap py.' And then he had gone away and for the first time the truth broke upon her. Her hand be longed to Carlton Wayne but her eart to Dean Harrington. And then they entered the lit Le room that had always been her Truly time had not left its traces here. The tiny toilet table stood where she had left it, and every picture still hung in its old place. Even the snow -white cur. tains were looped back with the same pink bows she had made. A quiet repose seemed to settle on her feelings, and she and Aunt Nna would sit for hours in the little boney-suckle arbor, Sadie reading some favorite poem while the other's deft fingers would ply the knitting-needle. And it all seemed so like the old days that were it not for the black robes, Sadie would almost fancy herself the same light girl of And almost unconsciously she began to think of Carlton's words. 'Dean will come back to you,' an d her heart would beat quickly at the sound of the door-bell only tc be disappointed each time. The year of mourning was at an end, she wore some soft gray material that well became the slender figure. One evening she was sitting alone in the arbor a book of poems on her lap. But se dlid not read. Her bands were clasped idly on .her lay while a tear stole softly dowc the full red cheek. She did not look up at the sound of a foot-fall, thinking it was Aunt Nina. But directly sb4 felt a hand on her shoulder, anc ifting her bead she saw a tall bearded stranger beside her. An( 'the she r eonized him. and witl a glad cry of 'Dean you have come ' she sprang up: But the next moment she had shrank back blushing hotly. At last be spoke: 'Sadie, you will not welcome me?' he said looking steadily into the brown eyes. 'I am glad to see you, Dean, she Raid, extending her hand, which he took, and seated him self beside her. 'Is that all, Sadie? Or were youI not looking for me?' he said, a pained look crossing his face at her coldness. -And suppose I were, Dean,' she asked, not louking at him. 'Then, Sadie, I would dare to hope. Shall I stay?' be asked, this time taking her hands in his own large ones and trying to see the face under the broad hat. She did not reply at once and a tear dropped on his hands as he held hers. In a moment be had dropped them and stood up looking at her. 'Forgive me, child, I had not meant-Vt paiti you. -Bit; 'oh Sadie! I have waited so long. If you could only love me just a lit. tIe. I never meant to trouble you again. But I could not resist the temptation of seeing you once again.' He stood looking down at;her awhile, a wistful expression stole over her features, and at last she reached out her hand and he took it quickly. 'Oh, Dean I I cannot send you away; I am so lonely,' she said, as he bent and kissed the blushing face. 'God bless you, Sadie. And you will learn to love me, for my whole life shall be devoted to your happiness.' 'No, Dean, I will never learn to love you. I have always loved you, and he knew it, though God knows bow I prayed against it. It was the memory of his kind ness to me that caused my tears. And somehow I feel like-I would be doing wrong to marry again.' 'Do you think I cannot make you happy, Sadie?' 'I know you will. And, oh Dean! We mu4t remember we owe it all to him. He told me he would be willing.' Musk is a concrete substance, found in an animal having a near affinity to the deer tribe, a native of Thibet, China and Siberia. The msk deer is a timid animal, and rarely appears during the day ; consequently the musk collectors watch and surprise it at night. The best musk comes from China, and to have it genuine it should be purchased iu the natural pod or bag, as it is very often adul terated. The Bengal musk is in ferior, and that from Russia the worst of all. The hair on the pod of the best musk is a fawn color ; that on the inferior a dirty white. A variety of musk is found in the musk-rat of Canada, an ani mal about the size of a small rab bit. Musk is of a bitter taste, and of an odor more powerful than anything known ; substances in its neighborhood become strongly in feted by it, and, when once per fmed with it, long retain the scent. It has been known to affect chests of tea placed at a considerable distance, even though both had been packed up in leaden boxes, for which reason the East India Company gave an order not to import musk an<d tea in the same ships. Many persons dislike the odor. It has t'he property, when employed in ver-y small quantitieP of augmenting the scent of otheE substances, without imparting its own. It is not good to be angry with those who may seem with ma lcious intent to assail our cher ished beliefs. .A few burDing weeds may produce smoke enongi to hide the stars, but the star' are shining all the same. It is nol Wise to vex and weary ourselves by angry denuncia.tions of th< smoke which will. aoon pass of THE BRIDAL HANDKER CHIEF. We all prepared to go to the wedding. I was going, father was going, the gals was going and we was going to take the baby. But come to dress the baby, I ::ould not find its little shirt. L'd laid a clean one out of the Irawer a purpose; I knew jest where I'd put it, but come to look ror it, it was gone. 'For mercy's sake,' says I, 'gals, has any of you seen that baby's shirt ?' Of course, none of 'em had seen t, and I looked -again; but it wan't nowhere to be found. 'It's the strangest thing in all ature,' says I; 'here I had a shirt in my hand not more'n ten minutes ago, and now its gone, obody knows where! Gals,'said , 'do look round, can't ye ?' But fretting and fu m in g wouldn't find it ; so I went to the bureau and fished up another shirt, and put it onto the baby, and at last we were ready for a start. Father had harnessed up the double team, and the gals were all having a good time going to see Mary Ann married ; but somehow I couldn't get over that baby's shirt. 'Twant so much the shirt, but to havs anything sperrited away right from under my face and eyes, 'twas too provoking. 'What be you thinking about mamma?' says Sophronia. 'What makes you so sober?' 'I'm pestered to death thinking about that baby's shirt,' says I. 'One of you must a took it, I'm sartin,' says I. 'Now ma,'says Sophroia-sayE she, 'you.needn't say that.' And, as I bad laid it onto 'em a good many times, they were beginning to get vexed, and sc we had it back and forth all aboul the baby's shirt, till we got to the wedding. Seeing company kind o' put i1 out of my mind, and I was get ting -good natur'd again, thougt I couldn't help saying to myself every few minutes, what couk have become of that baby's shirt' till they stood up to be married and I forgot all about it. Mary Aan was a real modesi creature, and was more'n hal frightened to death when shi camne into the room with Stephen and the minister told 'em to jini hands. She fast gave her lef and to Stephen. 'Your other hand,' says the minister, and poor Steve, hb was so bashful, too, he didn't knov what he was about; he though 'twas his mistake, so he, gay' Mary Ann his left hand. That iuouldn't do anyway, bu by this time they didn't know what they was about, and Mar' Ann jined her left hand with bi left, then his left with her righ1 then both their left hands agair till I was all in a fidget, an< thought they never would ge fixed. Mary Ann was as red asa tai key, and to make matters wus she began to cough-to turni off, I s'pose-and called for a glas of water. The minister had just bee drinking and the tumbler stoo right there. I was so narvous, and in such hurry to see it all over with, the ketched up the tumbler and ru with it to her; for I thoughtt goodness she was going to fain She undertook to drink. I no not know how it happenet but the tumbler slipped, and, gr; cios me ! if, bet ween ~us bot' we didn't spill the water all ov< her collar and sleeve. I was dreadfully frustrated, f< it looked as though 'twas all ri fault, and the first thing I did w: to out with my handkerchief at give it to Mary Ann. It was nicely done up. St took it and shook it out. TI folks had held it pretty well up this time, but then such a gigg and laugh as there was. I didt know what had given them sui a start till I looked and see, I give Mary Ann that baby's shir (Here Mrs. Jones, who is a bi g fesy woman, undulated al hook like a mighty jelly, wi mirth; and it was some time be. fore she could proceed with her narrative.) 'Why,' continued she, while tears of mirth ran down her cheeks, 'I'd tucked it into my dress pocket, instead of a hand kerchief. That comes of being absent-minded and all in a fid get.1 'And Mary Ann and Stephen were they married after all ?' 'Dear me, yes,' said Mrs. Jones; 'and it turned out the gayest wed ding I ever 'tended.' WANTED, AN OPINION. It is a lucky thing for lawyers who are much.sought to for 'opin ions,' that they can occasionally give a piece of wisdom not their own. There is a good story told of the bit Roger"Sherman once ruade by taking advantage of this privilege. An honest farmer once called upon the -elebrated lawyer and told him he wanted an opinion. He had heard a great deal about the value of Mr. Sherman's opin ions, and how a great many peo ple went to him to get an opinior, and John, who never had, nor was likely to have a lawsuit or other difficulty for a lawyer to help him from, thought he would have an 'opinion.' 'Well, John, what can I do to help you ?' said Mr. S., when John, in his turn, was shown into the room. 'Why, lawyer,' replied John, 'I happened to be in town, and hav ing nothing to do, I thought I would come and get youi opinion.' 'State your case, John. Wha's the matter?' 'Oh, nothing. .1 ain't got. no lawsuit. I only want to get one of your opinions. They 6ay they're valuable.' 'But, John, about what?' 'Oh, anytbing-sir; take your pick and choice. Mr. Sheriman, seeing the no. tions of his client on the m'atter it hand, took pen, and writing a few words .folded them up and handed them to John, who care. fully placed them in his pocket. 'What's to pay, sir?' 'Four and sixpence'-Yankee money, seventy ive cents. r When John returned home the next morning, he found his wife who pretty much took the lead ir his business matters, anxiousl~ discu'sing with his chiet farm ser vant the propriety of getting in large quantity of oats on that day ~which had been cut on the pre vious, or of undertaking som4 other labor. John was appealed to to settle< the question, but he could niot de rcide. At length he said, 'I'll tel you what, Polly, I've been to lawyer and got an opinion tha a cost me four and sixpence. Then it is; read her out. It's a lawyer' ,writing, and I can't mike head o1 j tail out of it !' t John, by the way. could no read the plainest print, but Polly Swho was something of a senolar s opened the paper, and read a t follows: 'Never put off till tc s morrow what can be done to-day, 'Enough said!l' cried Johr o 'Them oats must be got in.' An< d they were 'got in,' and the sam night such a storm came on a a otherwise would have ruine ,t them. o Just before visiting the menag< L. ie, Jonny had a passage at arm with the young aunt who assiste I, at his toilet, and with whom b . flew into a rage. Arrived at th 2, menagerie, Johnny was immi ir diately interested by a strang foreign animal with a long, lith >body. 'What animal is that, man y ma ?' he asked. 'It is called a s ant-eater, my son.' After &lon d silence : 'Mamma, can't we brin Annt Mary here some day ?' e A person who had an impor o ant; case in court~ sent two ver e handsome and expensive flagor 't to the Judge. He ordered thei h to be filled with costly wine ar d sent back to the donor. Ti L I Judge was a pagan, however, ar g, didn't know any better. Six id foolish stories can't be told of ii Lh ou,-ts of'nowadays. A N&;W MMWANflMKXW * Jn the seventeenth century the minister of a certain parian in:' Scotland was the famous Satiin-el. Rutherford. the religios'orae o the Covenanters and thei -adhe-i rents. It is among the traditfJps that on a Satprday evenig sa one of the family gatherings, Ratherford was catechiiuig 10s ebildren and servants, a stranger knocked at the door and eged shelter for the night. The miisi ter kindly receivnd him, and Wked' him to take his place withh family and-assist at their religioni ? exercises. It so happened thaVt;h eiq tion in the catechism which dame to the stranger was that *h'h asks: "How many commandments are there ?" He answered, "Ble ven." "Eleven!" exclaimed Ruder-,, ford. "I ain surprised that a man of your age and appearance shoudt' not know better; what do yo mean ?" And be answered:.-'. new commandment I give uito you, that ye love one another as, I have loved you, that fea1s love one another." Buther&l was much impressed by -the as. wer, and they retired to"'' ; . next morning, as he thred a way to cherch throughthe1iek et, he heard among: the tres voice of the stranger at his dego tions. The.elevation af'i inents convinded him "that it was no common man, and, on accosting him, the traveler confessedi he was no other than -the ~grea divine, Archbishop Usher t Priiiate of the Church V who well fulfilled thatb newr con mandment which he bore tb6 ers. He it was who ohad oe disguise to see Ratheffbra ineti privacy of"his own .i.ld. by side they pursued their way.I.M.. the little church, 'Int frbai. te rustic pulpit the Ei-chbisp:re At ched to the people from the words which had so startled his ,'os evening before: "A uew ci n ment I give unto you, thatVye ovei one another."--Library ot . CHANGED-HIs 3kND.-Mr. Jarrett, the theatrical '**i tells the following story. -:7 evening, while his party 10 playing at the Opera Ko '.=%, Detroit, a small boy approache him, and holding out his h exhibiting fifteen cents, said:, " 'Please, mister, I would' so much like to see Cinderella, Wr that's all the money I've got.t The boy's manner touched 3Jr rett's tender spot, and.pft.er s ing him two or three timesifthat was all the money he had,-antd - receiving each time aspitifi t sffirmative answer, he gate'.h~ ?a quarter. The boy's countenance beamed with delight, arnd heudid I not know how to express his - gratitude. Finally, moving' to. ward the street, he said: 'You don't know how thanikfal 1Iam, sir. I am ever so much o liged to you, sir; but nowrthat you have been so generousel guess ill go to'the other thegter, and see"'Jack Sheppard!~" TaUE WoMEN.-Every mDan c' - sense and refinement airee. a Iwoman as a woman, and :wbea she steps out of this character, a thousand things, that in their.ap propriate sphere would :be sad mired, become disgusting ana offensive. The appropriate char seater of a woman demands deli cacy of appearance and manneits. refinement of sentiment, gentie ness of speech, modesty df ielift and action, a shrinking from:no. toriety and public gaze, aversiOn to all thatis care.and r1de, an an instinctive -abhorrence of alt - that tends to indelicacy and i 3purity, either in .principle orn tion. These are the traits which are admired and sought'o fd - woman. tThe greatness shows , e~ r ignoring, or:quicklyforgeutiigper s sonal injuries, when eadifas ri tures would bek pSE them. The-less ofa-man one is, the more' he makes of aa injur' or an insult 'The more of,a man. hbe is, the less he isdist bb. e what otihers say. o~ do. -assst hini withoutcae. - .