The Orangeburg news. (Orangeburg, S.C.) 1867-1875, August 19, 1871, Image 2
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.t'-OI
POETRY.
n [FOR THE ORAKOKOUBO KRW*.] ?
trt A Name.
BT JOANXBS.
? jP ?-> , r '.. *
?"What's in a name?" Thia is a question
often put
"I-v man to man in philosophic mood,
^A* 1/ihia world did not, from day to day,
3t* living le-Ron? of the force of names.
pome it moans to live, while others by
it starve;
.rSaufj get their clothing and their daily food,
ulecanae forsooth they're the aona of rio-aml
SMlivrs cannot get a frneral shroud!
,^ ime by their names can cheat, and rob,
and steal, and lie,
And the world will nut be their accusers;
Nnr, it will strive its best their sins te hide
from view,
And pat them en tbtback with "Go ahead! "
??What's in a name ? "?food, raimant, and
born distinction
>'or the brainless crew, who daily boast it;?
rV^ee they die, an aristocratic burial,
A,nd a marble tombstone, all fill'd with lies.
[WRITTBS FOR TUB OR AHO KB IT BO BKWS.]
MORE TRUTH THAN POETRY
00 ?1 -OE
HOW ARTHUR AINSTOH GOT
HIS WIFE.
V , I I I BT JOANNES.
?>?t
? W .
T? CHAPTER III.
^n^shutting the door behind him, his
eyes caught Eliza's.
With one terrible look he seemed to
say, "If you lovo Arthur Aioston better
than you do me, I will kill him."
Eliza got up and walked to the doov,
to' s^e if she could catch a glimpse of
the retreating form of the mao she had
coins |o regard as her evil genius, in
stead of sn affianced husband.
?Oh 1 that A AKsm fr?? " -u:
pered to herself, ,:the danger which
threatens Ulm. Bo might flee snd es
cape Mr. Henry's wrath."
So saying our fair heroine closed the
<door and went to her room.
As ahe fell upon the bed the prayer,
"jMay Heaven protect him !" escaped her
lips,
The poor oroaturo sobbed here for
hours.
Once a .servant name to her door and
inquired the cause of her griof.
^'Nothing," Elisa replied.
"Has father come yet t" she asked.
Iteceiviog a negative response, ahe
t\?Mb$&lf her face in the pillow.
Father! What did she want with
this mah at that time? He didn't oars
bow much her heart buffered. A laugh,
or shrug of tho shoulders with a bitter
"humph," was all she could elicit, if she
had gone .4? hum.
Nsny, many tines* had ehe pleaded
with him iu v;?in.
Long before eh? nw Arthur Aiuston
she had declared to her hard hearted
and inexorable father that if he forced
her into a marriage with Henry, ahe
would die of sorrow.
"You only think bo," would be his
invariable reply.
But notwithstanding her recollection
of all these, she thought that if she
could meet him at tbat moment, and
show him her face and hair all bathed
in tears that bad been wrung from her
by his cruelty, that he would relent.
He never came home, however, until
I late, and Elisa declining supper, had fal
lou into a dreamy slumber.
! Ever end anon, during her sloep, her
limbs would contract, as if moved by
some awful dream, and she would say,
"Do Arthur flyl"
To these exclamation* in her sleep,
ber father's attention was oallod.
He stood by the door sod listeued
for a few moments when his ean were
greeted with these words, from his al
most hcart broken daughter :
"If he kills him, the sin will rest
upon my father's head."
A loug aud heavy drawn sigh fol
lowed this sentence.
The old gentleman disoovcrcd that
she was asleep, and said nothing to her.
But "If be kills him, the sin will
rest upon my father's head" still rung
in his cars, and he immediately sum
moned a scrvaut to ascertain who had
been there that evening.
The intelligence he gained was that
u young geutlcmnu, a stranger, had visi
tedatho house first, and that Mr. Henry
came directly alter he left.
' WJiat kind of a looking man wee
the stranger ? " queried old Mr. Buyer.
"1 don't know exactly sir," answered
the servant. UI didn't look at him
closely."
"Did Eliza meet him in the parlor ?"
"Yes, sir."
"How long did they remain there?"
"About an hour, sir."
"What time afterwards did Mr. Hen
ry come ?"
"Not long, sir."
"Did you see him *nd Eliza togeth
er." ;
??Ycs, sir?"
"Did you hear them say anything
about the stranger ?"
"I believe I did, air. I think MrJ
Henry left tke parlor very much put out
about his eall on Miss Eliza. He left the
parlor in a'hurry, and said he would do
something, I forget now, with that gen
tleman before he would visit Miss Eliza
again"
"What?" demanded the old gentle
man, in surprise. "Has Mr. Henry and
Eliza had another quarrel ?"
"I don't know, sir. I only tell you
what I heard," replied the cautious ser
vant.
Eliza's father here leaned his head for
ward on bis hands, and seemed to be ab
I porbed tor a moment or two in deep j
J He appeared to be mentally debating
some important question.
Directly, rising up, he said to the ser
vant :
"Go and tell Eliza that I want her in
my room in fifteen minutes. Tell her
no excuse fill do, aa I have important
matten to speak with her about."
Tbe aervaot bowed in obeisance and
retired.
"I wonder," said the old gentleman to
himself, "if that girl hasn't fallen in
love with some ball-room dsudy again ?
I'll see Henry to-morrow and have this
thing brought to a eloae. It gives me
too muoh trouble. The girl is always
harassing me to death about not loving
him. So upon the whole, it were wise
to have the affair settled at once. - Hen
ry'a waya are against him, ami I don't be
lieve Eliza will love him any better un
; til after they an married, if then. 1
1 will prepare her miod for it to-night."
Tbn? the ?ther of tho ?ir and lovilyJ
Elisa srgued with huarelf.
He knew Siita did not lore
the man Ii? had selected for her, bat that
ems a matter of small consequence to
him. Ha ?ras rich.
m a* .*?',
He thought after the manner of P?v
truchio, of one "wedded wealthily, then it
mast be happily."
In hia selfish calculations, and
longings after the things of this world, it
seems that Eliza's father had forgotten
that the goods of this earth could not
supply the place of Ioto.
He imagined, cr tried to tusks Myself
believe rather, that if he married his
daughter to a man as rich as herself,
that they must uecessarily be happy.
But how mistaken.
Elisa Boyer would hsre preferred
Arthur Ainston with the poverty of
Irus, ? r an Irish mine, (one of which it
is said yields just ore enough to awesr
by> or K*td a bad guinea,) to Clsdius
Henry with the wealth of Croesus.
She lored the former for the wealth of
his heart, for his noblenoss of soul, linked
with msny other prepossessing qualities.
Although sho had not had the advan
tage of a long aud intimate acquain
tance with him, yet sh? was satisfied that
he possessed all the qualities with which
her heart had invested him.
But as Eliza is about ready to obey
her father*s command, and an thia chap,
tor is getting unusually long, we will
briug it to u clofc, and record What J
transpires at the. interview iu chapter
fourth.
vHAPTEU IV.
As Elisa.entered her father's room
ahe buds him good evening, with s kts*,
as was her wont.
Tho old gentleman pulled off his spec
tacles and laid thorn asido with a paper
which be had boon reading, and told his
daughter to sit down.
"Elisa," ho said, after the lapse of a
lew momenta, "I s nt for you to ask an
explanation of words I heard you utter
a while ago when asleep, and of the purport I
of the call of the stranger who visited yon
this evening in the parlor. I want you
to tell ire ail, without the slightest eva
sion."
"Father/' responded Elisa, "there was
no use f< r yoa to say 'without evasion,'
for yoa f I tell you, I shall apeak
the tratl n know I have never in
my life tcic" ?la a story."
"I know that Elisa; but your mind
appears to be very much troubled about
something, snd I desired to impress upon
yoa the importance of unburdening sll
of your thoughts to me. Who was the
gentleman that called on you thia even
ing?"
"Mr Arthur Ainston and Mr. Henry,"
replied Elisa.
"What was tho object of tho former's
visit T " continued to interrogate the
old gentleman, watching with all his
eyes for tbe effect his questions wouid
UAie tfjiO?t iiiS Q?Ug?tOr.
"Don't you remember father that I
told yoa this moraing that I got acquain
ted with a Mr. Ainston last night at
the City Hsll ? "
"I believe I do; but did that give
him a lieense to visit yon 1"
"No air. But bo imagined that ho
had insulted me and as he was going
swsy to night, he wr >to me a note beg
ging just a few minutes interview with
me, to ssk my pardon."
"Howdid be insult you? "
"Ho did not do so father, but from
the manner in which I treated him, for
attempting to compliment me, I suppose
he thought he hsd done wo.**
"Why then did yoa permit him to
visit you? "
"Because he importuned me so seri
ously."
"Weil, to make thia interview short
Elian, I was* to tetB you that I know
all that transpired between you, and
besides, \ koow of the manner iu which
you treated Ciau^T?li IfJ^sifcrt.
Boycr always called Henry.] directly
after; and I waut- you to tell me what
you meant by such conduct."
Eliza in this time had bogen crying,
and tho only reply her iathcr got for
some time consisted of sobs.
She was unedSfiftcd in the art of the
deceptions, praOHjbd in this world, aad
she thought tha^Jrafa her father told
her ho knew all, it was really so.
She intended to tell him tho next
morning, and now. because she had gone
to sleep and did not remain up to inform
bins of what had transpired, that night,
sho feared that Jha might believe she
thought of dissembling with him.
Sho had never deceived her father,
and the Gist impklse of the thought that
sho had inadvertently given him cause
to believe that she was disposed to do
so, grieved her iS&att deeply.
nence hor teBre
"1 havu't time fo witness a tableau/'
said her lather, "and I Want you to-dry
up your tears aud answer my questions."
tfho stopped crying sufficiently long
to murmur, "Fflgfcef 't wouldn't deceive
you."
'T know you Wouldn't ray daughter,"
snid the old ?cuueuiun softly, somewhat re
gretful of the Sarah manner in wbieh
he had spoken to' Eliza.
Sho yceuicd t-j take confidence from
his Io.it words, and raised her head from
her handkerchief:and Said, "What is it
you want mo t?i-toll yon ?r?t fath.rr '! "
'?What Aim??on said to you," was tho
reply.
? Uc cotamciuccU by asking me to
forgive him for what ho did last night,
ami when I .it^ hi -! ?hat he had uol
oflor.c'ed tic, he said that he was going
home to hirht, nnd that. h3 would take
advai tage of the opportunity, and tell
me that ho loved me."
Fu' to curtail onr story, we will hurry I
along by saying that Eliza related to her
lather almost verbatim what transpired
at both c f the interviews.
She ?vid not deviate whatever from
what happened; told her father precise
ly what Arthur said to her; what she
said to L im ; and then oi the interview
betwecu herself and Henry later in the
evening.
Oltl Mr, Beyer rat perfectly still all
the while.
Different shades colored hb face at
times ; but otlierwbe he was as still and
firm us a stutue.
After Eliza got through, she looked
more wistfully at lie> father than over be
fore, aud said ;
"Now lather, I have told you all ;
have not evaded a single thing,?aud
tell mc. have I acted in a manner which
you do not approve V
?'You have," was spokeu on firm and
decided tones.
"How father?" was the unxious girls
inquiry.
"You know, Eliza, as well ss I do,"
tho oid gentleman spoke in a manner t
that showed he was still bent on carrying
out his former determination, "that you
are betrothed to Mr. Henry; that he
has been waiting for you to grow old
enough to learu his worth, and how to
appreciate bim as your hnsband, for
three years; that he has made hoavy
outlays in fixing up hb place to make
you happy ; that 1 have pledged him my
word to have, you marry him and no one
else; that he ia rich ; that bis estates are
adjoining miue; tbat you and Jes
sie are my only daughters; and as I
am getting old I want you married
to some one who will take care of
you, and upon whom I ean bestow
my riches with an assurance that it
will be taken care of, nnd used for tbe
purpose of making those I love happy.
For these reasons, I long ago, aye, even
before your mother died, determined to
make you tho wife of Mr. Henry, and 1
am surprised at your persistency in re
fusing a willing acquiescence ia the plan.
Mr. Heary loves you ; and if you do not
love him now11 aw satisfied jou will af
ter awhile. Any how yoa are my oh 3d,
and I am not disposed to see yoa throw
yourself sway. A parent knows what is
best for his children, and often must do
things to secure their happiness which
may seem to them rather like a sacrifice.
Now I don't want any words from you
to-night. I wsnt you to promise me
that you will forget this nondescript
youth, Ainston, and I will see Mr. Hen
ry snd explain your conduct to
him ; snd when he calls to-morrow, you
make the proper explanation yourself:
for he must be your husband."
"But father I do not love him," mur
mured Elisa.
"Go to your room now, and remember
to obser?? what I hare told you, as you
regard my wishes," exclaimed Mr. Boyer
in rather harsh tones.
"I regard your wishes father, and in
obedience to them I hare tried to lore
Mr. Henry and I cannot. Will you make
me marry him any how f If I thought
so, I would welcome desth to-night, not
that I am tired of you, but to escape a
IWing one with a man whom I ennjnover
respect, much less lore.".
Elisa uttered these words as earnestly
as she could. She knew that it would
be her hist say that night, and .-he want
ed to make good use of it.
"Go to your room, Eliza/' comman
ded Mr. Boyer.
Tho poor heart-broken creator* bade
him good night, amd betoook herself,
with a heart henry with sorrow, to her
chamber.
[CONTI NT ki> is OUR 3 EXT issue.]
"tlastrt I Kno about Fhanrist*
What I k no about pharmin iz bussed
little. Mi bussum friend, Horace Gree
ley, baa rit a book with the abuv name,
snd nlthv t haven't had time to perooso
it, yet I don't hesitate to pronounce it
bully.
I'harmin (now dase) is pretty much
all theory, and therefore, its as untshiug
that a man kun live in New York aud
bo a good chancery lawyer, and kno all
about pharmin.
A pharm (now daze) of one hundred
akors will produce more buck-.neat and
pumpkins, run on theory, than it Would
sis years ago, run on manure and hard
knoks.
There is nothing like bock laming,
and tbe time will eventually come when
a man wont bar too bar only one of
"9oah Billings' Farmers' Almanaz," to
run a pharm, or a kamp meeting with.
Eton now it ain't unkommon tew se
three of four hired men, on s pharm,
with three or four spans of oxen, al!
standing still, while the boss goes into
the library, snd reads himself for the
day's plowing.
If I was running a pharm, (sow dase)
I suppose I would rather hav 30 bush
ols ov some new breed ov patofocs rased
on theojy, then tew hav 84 bushel* got
in the meau, beknighted aud underhand
way ov our late lamented grand parents.
IMutrmin, after all, is a good deal like
the tavern bizsiness, enny boky thinks
tboy kan keen a hotel (now d&ze.) and
(now daze) ami they ban, but this is the
way that poor hotels cum tew be so plen
ty, and this is likewise what makes
pharmin such easy and profitable bizsi
now.
Just tako the theory out of pharmin,
and there ain't nothin left, but hard
work, and fired little krope.
When I see so mutch pholks rushing
into theory pharmin, ss there is (now
dame,) and so raonny or them rushing
out agin, i think ov that remarkable
pieoc or Skriptur, which remarks, "racn
ny are oallad, but few are chosen."
I oust took a pharm on shares miself,
and run her on some theories, and tbe
thing figured up this way, i dnn all the
work, phurnished all the seed and ma
nure, had the ague 9 months ont ov 12,
for mi share or tbe profits, and the other
pbellow paid the taxes on the phnrm for
bis sears.
By mutual kousent i quit the pharm
at tbe end ov tbe year,
j What I know about phu/nwu ain't
I worth brisgging about, snd i feel it my
duty to statu? for tha benefit ov my
i kreentem, that H they ever eapeht me to
pay five cents ou a dollar, they mueu't
start nie ia the theerettkal pharmin em
ploy.
If a man really hi anxious tew make
moony on a pharm, tfe letw theory he
lays ie the better, end he meet do pretty '
much all the work hisself, and support
his family on what ha kan sell, snd go
rsgged enuff oil the time to hunt bees.
I kno of meony farmers who are so
afBicted with superstition that they wont
plant a single bean only in the last quar
ter ut the moon, and I kno others so
pregnant with science that they wont set
a gate poet until they hare had the
ground analirod bi sum professor of ana
tomy tew see if the earth has got the
right kind of ingredience for post boles.
This ht whst i call running science in
to the ground.
Tbe fact or it ia that theories of all
kinds work well except in praktiss; they
are too often designed tc do the work of
praktiss.
They ain't no theory in breaking a
male only to go et kim with a club in
your hand and sum blood in your eye,
and break him, just aa you would split a
What i kno about pharmin ain't wnth
much enny how, but i undertook to brake
n kMlfeing heifer once.
I iwm? e treatise on the subjekt and
phollowed the direekshuns eluss, and I
got knokt ecdwase in about 5 niinu?.
I thon set down aed thought tbe thing
over.
I made up my miud that the phellow
who wrote the treatise was more in the
treatise bizziness than be was in the
kicking heifer trade.
I cam to the kooklnshua thst what he
knn about milking kicking heifers he
bad lease hi lean in over a barnyard fence
and writing the thing, up.
I got up from my reflekskuns strength
ened, and went for that heifer.
I will draw a rail over tho language I
used, and the things I did, but I went
in to win, and won!
rriMt b?ifiw ***** bekenn a cow.
This ?s one way to break a kicking
heifer, alter a man has study od aril the
books in the krettsbun on the subject,
and tried them oa, he will run back onto
mi plan, and make up his mind, ss i did,
tbat a kicking heifer is worth more for
bcif than she is fur theoretic milk.
I have worked on a pharm just long
euuff tu kno that the there ia no prayers
so good for poor land as manure, and no
theory kan beat 12 hours each da (sun
dase excepted) of honest labor applied
to the aile.
I am an old-phashioned phellow, and
hartly hate most an things, because I
hav been beat by them so offen.
I never knd a pharm that was worked
pretty much by theory but what wax for
sail or tew let in e few years, and I never
knu a pharm that Wae worked bi manure
and nrdsWe, on the good old ignorant
way of our ancestors, but what was
handed down frtrai father to son, and el
Ways Was noted for raising bra wuy-armed
boys and buKom Isssev and fust rate po
tatoes.
What I kno about pharmin is nothing
but eaperience, and experience now daze
aiu't wuth a kuss.
I had rather hav a good look-in theory
tew ketch nates with, than the cxpe
| rienee even of McthusIeV.
Experience is a good thing to lay
down and die with, butyu.kant do no
bisziness with it (now daze ;) it ain't bot
I euoff.
Clivm t*wv * *ttri bn#. hrtmhif'r ?nrl T t?rt
make most ov the experience in this
I worle ashamed of itself.
Stimulants.
That man is a maniac, a deliberate
J suicide, who drinks tea, coffee, or ardent
spirits of any bind to induce hire to per
form a work in hand, and when he feols
too weak to go through with it without
such aid. This is the reason that a ma
jority of great oratore and public favo?.
rites die drunkards. The pulpit, the
bench, the bar, the forum, have contrib
uted their legions of victims to drunken
habits. Thd beautiful woman, the sweet
singer, the conversationalist, the periodi
cal writers, have filled but too often a
drunkard's grave. Now that tho press
has become such a great power in tho
land when the magazine mast come out
on a certain day, and *he daily newspa
pers at a fixed hour, nothing waits,
everything must give way to the inexo
rable call for oopy, and sick or well, dis
posed or indisposed, asleep or awake, the
cony meat come ;? the writer must couv
peee bin article, whether be feels like it
or uot, and if he is not iu the vein of
writing, h* into** wad? Miamis sif>s?> ?
by the etlwulaeof drfcfe jgi^tjfcttw
greatest writers of tb?.*wj)?s^]b^e?^tv
fessed to lue practice on aryesf jff**"
?ions, of *at1og ? ?F ^^Hi3t
end of written page or eves5 9Miktw.
Lord Byron at tbe osam w -a i uij paui
grapb eometiuie? J rtri>ah<l5 *
If may have escaped the sgpflflsj read?
er's notice, that mors men have4>d
young, who have becrjf connteteft t wit*
the New York Vress, wtthisV'^'TSpan,
and that too from intU9^twttes^ia ist
&U tho other educational ?? salttasji^ to
gethor; young men whose takwss dssvo
been of the first order, and gave p^Wmew
of a life of usefulness, honowjr^jpii ,
i;encc. Tho beat possiMe thing for s>
man to do, when he feels ic*> tvad to
pe it or in a task or too weak to* 'tasW at
through, is to go to bed suJutsapaNtdaa
if he can ; thia is the only true reeupw
stion of brain power, the only asvaai
renewal of brain fbvee * b??Sj?||pj?k?a^a?if
sleep the brain is in a souse of reist M ?
ceudition to receive and sp|rsm|j|fit'sms?>
ticlcs of nutTiment from the brood Wfifcb,
takes the place of those which hat* Mm
eoosmraed in previous labor, sine* law
very net of thinking consume* hsjspgjsn
solid particles, ss every turn of tho
wheel or serow of tho ipfawsjea"sBssJfcsaT
is the result of consumption* hy fir* ?f
the fuel in the furnace. Tars* stspjftj of
consumed brain substaaee can early far
had from tbe nutrient particles in the
blood which were obtained from the food
previously eaten, and the brain fete esytv
stituted tbat i? ?an bist receive 'smatsyw
proprmte to itself those nutrlewt ?ersV
eins during the state of Vest, cyasi add
of stillness sleep. Mere stimulsnara?^
ply nothing in thcmselvaa?they eatf
goad the brain, force it to a greater con
.sumptkm of its substance, until that safe*
stance baa been so fully ethaswtej *%s?
there ?not power enough 1 toft to *e>
eeive a supply; just an nseu ?an aw ?aar
death by thirst or starvat&sxr, asmt tsmas
is not power enough left to mukVsa: any
seams, ana an as vvwrv jru-o iMwayswuij
of the bruin Pit receiving nma\ii|i rtfSfi
particles sometimes eomenow Wrth the
rapidity of s strobe f lriglilialai lassf
the man becomes mud kras hnrtawt; sh
an instant falls to convulsions, in aa in*
sunt losea all sense and is an idiot. H
wss under eircumetauces of 'his rery
sort, in the very middle or a ssptewos of
great oratorical power, owe of fB? saost
I eminent minds of the asm.' fbryi ast
ideas, pressed his band sg suet am^ssst**
head, snd after, a momenta silsneu said
"God, as with a sponge, he* Meftdesm
my mind.'' Be sssured readers "there If
rest for the weary," only in latitj'asyJ
abundant sleep, and wise and heppy sW
they who bars firmness esrough twrev
solve tbat "By God's help 1 wiH seea it
in no other way?Halt* Journal o/
Health,
- ? ??a?^iatkSW'^'?MakWB**UkMwa>^
Diligence vs. IIbed****;*!***?*;
Two boys were apprcotieed 10 a carpsa*
ter shop. One determined to Ssaaa
himself a thorough work ma of 7 flat ots^irr
"didn't cafe," One read and etskffstl ?
and got books . to belphim *etn
dera tan d the principles of his
trade. lie spent his evenings* at sTMtSq
reading. The other fikey fun best. He,
often went with other boys to have **s
good time/' **r
"If 1 Waste these golden lat^ntt/'''
the boy would say, "I shall lomr what I
can never make up". 1 tiisjifl
While the boys were still MLJ?
papers, for the best' plan of ? tttassV**
House, to be built in one of fite Kastors^
States. Theatudioua boy saw- sn?adV *
voril?ctnuui, aud u?veruuifSjU ea ftty rotM
it. Aftor careful study he drew out
his plans and trait them to the commit'
teo. We suppose he did not really esv'~
pect to gala the prise $ bat' sdsrlfa
thought "there is nothing Kka Wylafjf^^
In about a week afterward* aw jrnMng? w
arrived at tbe carpenter's shop1 and astf>
cd if an architect by the nwme of Wash'
ington Wilberfbrce lived there, ...
"No," said the Carpenter/ "but t
have an apprentice by tmrt Oame.'* '.^S****
"Let's Bee him," said the geirttaoew* > **?
The young lad was summoned sttt&6>
informed that his pian Wat aseeytedand
that tbo f*,W>0 were his. The gentle
man then said the boy mast pot up the
building, and his employer Wat to prowd
ofhissucooes that he gave aim aSt We* '"''
time and let him go. This'stadstaa^
young carpenter became owe of the first
architects of the country. Ha made '*
fort wee, and stands high in the esteem
of every body, while his fellow sppree~
ties can hardly earn food for himseasf
?nd family hy his daily labor.