The tribune. (Beaufort, S.C.) 1874-1876, January 20, 1875, Image 1
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THE TRIBUNE. I
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VOL. I.--NO. 9. BEAUFORT, S. C., JANUARY 20, 1875. $2.00 PER ANNUM!
.-lOtM i rt'
The Old Farm-Honne.
At the foot of the hill, noar the old rod mill,
In a quiet, shady spot,
Just peeping through, half hid from view,
Stands a little moes-grown cot.
And straying through at the open door,
* The-sunbeams play on the Banded tloor. I
The easy chair, all patched with caro,V,
Is placed by the old heart h-etono ;
With witching grace, in the old fireplace.
The evergreens are strewn.
And pictures hang on the whitened wall,
And the old clock ticks in the cottage hall.
More lovely still, on the window-sill,
The dow-cyod flowers rest,
While midst the leaves on tho mose-growu
eaves
The martin builds her nest.
And all day long the summer breeze
b whispering love to the bended trees.
Over the door, all covered o'er
WiUi a Back of dark green baize,
Lays a musket old, whose worth ia told
In the events of other days ;
And the powdei^flask, and the hunter's horn,
Have hung beside it for many a morn.
For years have fled, with noiseless tread,
Like fairy dreams away,
And left in their flight, all shorn of his might,
A father?old and gray ;
And the soft wind plays with liis snow-white
hair,
And the old man sleeps in his easy-chair.
Inside the door, on the sanded floor,
Light, airy footsteps glide,
And a maiden fair, with flaxen hair,
Kneels by the old man's Bide?
An old oak wrecked by the angry storm,
While the ivy clings to its trembling form.
SUSY HOPE'S LESSON.
" H'm ! Well, I suppose opposition
would only make matters worse, but I
warn you Susy Maxwell is a spoiled
cliild! I don't believe she was ever
crossed in her life."
This was Montairae Hone'n mmmont
when his favorite nephew, "Walter, told
him he was engaged to marry pretty Susy
Maxwell, the daintiest, sweetest little
blonde fairy that ever charmed away a
man's heart.
" I am sure I am not going to marry
her to cross her!" was the warm reply,
and Unole Montague shrugged las
bachelor shoulders and maintained a discreet
silence.
For many a long week after the honeymoon
there was only peaoe and happiness
between Walter and Susy. The young
husband having a good salary in a
wholesale house, where he was salesman,
had taken a handsome room in a fashionable
up-town boarding nouse, and while
Susy's handsome trousseau was new she
had nothing left to Wish for. Had the
little wife been in a cozy home of her
own, were it ever so tiny, she might
havo found happy employment to keep
ner still content. But in a boarding
house, Walter away all day, she soon
made friends with the other ladies, unfortunately
for her, all possessing] wealth
sufficient to gratify an inborn love of
dress.
Walter opened his eyes a Little at some
of the prices Susy insisted were requisite
to obtain finery, but as long as he could
afford it he gave liberally.
But Uncle Montague was right when
he said that Susy was never crossed. It
is true her demands in her old heme
wero somewhat more moderate, but she
had been the petted darling of aged
grandparents, an orphan from infancy,
and indulged in every wish. So, when
the demands for money became unreasonable,
and were refused, Susy developed
an unsuspected capacity for pouting, and
would sulk for days together, quoting
her new friends' opinions of Walter's
meanness.
Matters grew worse and worse, till one
morning, being denied a lace sliawl upon
which she had set her heart, Susy tearfully
wished that she had never been
married, or had taken Wayne Bussell,
who was heir to half a million. She was
sorry a minute later, when Walter turned
a set white face to her and said :
"You only love the money you can
spend, then r'
A burst of hysterical tears was the
only answer, and then Walter was gone.
Not to the store, but straight to Unole
Montague's office.
" Unole !" he said, abruptly entering
the room, "is that Western position
otf *
DtUl UUUU I
" Tno one I offered to you before yon
were married t"
" Yes ! I want it ! Now, to-day !"
"But you cannot take Susy. The
salary is Very large, and there aro handsome
commissions, but the travel is incessant
!"
" I know ! Can I have it t"
" What is the trouble, Walter f"
" I must have more money ! Susy
wants more than I can afford to give her,
and more than once has informed me
that she married to do as she pleased ;
so I am going to take myself off, and lot
her havo all the money she wants."
Uncle Montague reflected, and fiually
said slowly, "Well, you can havo it."
Preliminaries arranged, Walter went
to the store, resigned his position, and
hurried home to pack a trunk and start
for Pittsburgh. Even then a soft word
front Susy might have changod his resolve,
but Susy was out, " gono shopping,"
the servant told him. *
When sho came home a note upon her
dressing table greeted her sight. Brief
and harsh.
"Since yon care for notliing but
money and lino clothes, I havo accopted
an offer to travel West, on a largo salary
and commission, and can remit to you
enough, I hope, to make you happy. I
have refused the position before, as it
necessitated our separation, but now I
have no hesitation in accepting it. If
you can arrange it you had better return
to your grandfatlior's. Walter."
If Walter could liavo heard the moaning
cry that greeted the letter, he could
never have carried ont his hasty resolution.
But he was already on his way
Westward, and there was no one to comfort
Susy as she wept and grieved. More
than once she whispered in her sobbing :
? Ana x meant to toil Inm to-day. Oil,
why didn't I tell him ? He would never
have gone I"
All night the little blonde sorrowed,
and in the morning she carried her
troubles to her grandmother, and whispered
her secret there.
" You uust come right home, and we
will write to Walter," said tho old lady.
But writing to Walter proved a matter
of difficulty. His now business kept
him incessantly moving, and there was
no certainty of a letter reaching him.
Every month a short letter reached
3usy, containing a draft for money, and
she sorrowfully hid them away, the very
sight of them cutting her to the heart.
Home was not homo to her, with Walter
away, tho weary heart-sickness pressing
sorely upon her.
One morning when her husband had
been gone nearly six months, an uncle
of Susy's died and left her $20,000.
Montague Hope heard of the legacy with
a grim smile.
" I suppose madam will have a set of
diamonds," ho said, " or a fancy wardrobe
from Paris."
To his surprise, late in the day, Susy
came into his office. She had never
been a favorite with the old man, but
his heart softened as he looked in her
sad, pale face.
"Mr. Hope," she said, timidly, "I
have come to ask a great favor of you."
-- vroii, my uear," ne answered
gently, " I should be pleased to grant
it, I am sure."
" You have heard of my legacy ?"
MI have."
" You know of this miserable separation;
that is all my fault. I have a plan
to end it. I don't want to excuse myself,
for I know that I was foolish and
extravagant, butr I am sure if we had
not lived in a fashionable boarding
house I never would have cared so
much for expensive clothing. I am a
good housekoepor, for my grandmother
taught me how to cook and sew and
keep a house in order. What I want is
to buy a small house, furnish it neatly,
and have a home of our own ; and then"
?the blue eyes wore lifted pleadingly
?"won't you let Walter know how
sorry I am, and bring him back. I
would not trouble you aliout the house,
but grandfather is so old that any unusual
business troubles him."
"You are a sensible woman," Uncle
Montague said, emphatically, "and I
will help you with all my heart. I sup
t>u?? you are anxious to get into your
kouse as soon as possible ?
" Indeed I am 1"
"Well, I will call to-morrow and tell
yon what I have done."
> Such a time as Unole Montague gave
upholsterers for the next fortnight! He
bought a gem of a two-story houso,
with all "modern improvements," and
every day he brought a carriage for
Susy to go with him to select carpets,
furniture and household wares.
Then he drove the workmen till every
spot within the four walls was in shining
order.
" We won't write to Walter till everything
is ready," he said.
And one sunny morning he escorted
Susy to the completely furnished house,
where a strong-armed serVant was already
installed, and made a little speech.
" I am a rich bachelor, my dear, and
Walter's my heir, and dear as a son to
me. I have never given him wealth,
ImAaniw T fKink Vix? mil - 1-- ?
? ?-? "? -w wrn UTJ u uitppiur,
nobler man for leaning to depend upon
his own exertions. I disapproved of liifl
marriage beoanse I thought yon wero a
silly, spoiled child, who would mar his
life's usefulness."
"You were right," said Susy, tearfully
and humbly.
"I was wrong. The last two weeks
have proved that. I had no business to
encourage him in this wild-goose expedition,
but as my atonement *for my injus,tice
to you I ask you to accept this house
and all that it contains. You will find
the piaao a first-rate instrument, and the
pictures, though few, nro gbod. Yom
own money, if yon will trust it to me, ]
will invest in secure stock that will give
i you a little income of your own."
"How can I thank you?" sobbed
! Susy.
V Bv growing rosy and happy, and
: giving me a corner of your fireside now
and then. Now, my dear, I am going
| home to write to Walter."
I But before the letter had accomplished
| its journey a telegram shot past it, carrying
terror to Walter Hope,
j "Come home at once; Susy is dangor!
ously ill."
Oh, the heart sinking, the bitter repentance
! All the weary loneliness of
the last six months were as nothing to
this horriblo fear. Susy, little, tender,
loving Susy, ill, perhaps dyiug! Walter
Hope had hardened Ins heart by saying
to himself that Susy never loved
him. But ho knew it was false; Susy had
1 loved him. He had taken her, a petted
j child, from her tranquil, happy home,
' put her where every hour there was
| temptation to some fresh extravagauce,
i and then, when she, like a child, craved
' indulgences beyond his means, had
I roughly granted them while depriving
i her of his protection and presence. And
; she had fretted herself ill.
| Oh, how the long journey tortured
mm : jli ever ne could reacli busy and
hear her say she forgave him, he would
never leave her aide again, If her life
was spared, and she still craved th? extravagances
of her friends, ho would try
by love and gentleness to win.her to more
reasonable wishes ! Over and over again,
| in the long, tedious journey, he lived the
j few Bhort months of his married life,
1 every harsh word rising to torment him,
and all Susy's winning charms reproaching
him. If she died, ho would never
know happiness again. Perhaps she
was already dead I So the self-communing
went on. He had led a busy
life in the six months that poor Susy was
fretting her heart away in self-reproachful
sorrow, and had had but few hours
for meditation. Long, hard-working
days found him utterly weary at night,
and in his rapid movements from place
to place, the frequent changes from hotel
to hotel, he did not miss home comforts
' as he must have done in a more settled
j life. Home had indeed never been more
than a name to Walter Hope, who had
boarded under his uncle's core since he
was a mere boy. The privacy of one's
own house, one's own table, were to him
misty possibilities when he should have
won a sufficient fortune to buy a house.
But he felt with bitter force what a
desolation life would bo to him if Susy
died.
A vorv pale, anxious face greeted
Uncle Montague as he woitod on the
platform of the depot for the earliest
Western truin by which Walter could
return.
" She is out of danger t" he said, before
other word.? of greeting were exi
changed; 1 very weak yet, so you must
meet her as calmly as you can.
Then, as the two drove across the
city, Uncle Montague told Walter of
Susy's legacy, her present, and her good
resolutions.
" She is the dearest little woman in
the world," the old man said, " and
you must make her happy now. There
is a good woman in the house now to
keep it in order till Susy is well. Then,
Walter, let her have tlie care herself.
Even if her inexperience brings some
temporary discomforts, love will soon
teach her how to remedy defects, and
she will find her happiness where true
women seek for it ever, at home ! God
help those who havo no such heaven of
rest."
The carriage stopped before the pretty
stone house, but Walter scarcely saw
the cheerful halls as he sprang up the
stairs to Susy's room. Once there, he
remembered his uncle's caution; and,
opening the door softly, ho went in with
1 a quiet step. A very weak but a very
1 glad voice spoke his name, and he bent
over the pale face on the pillow, his voice
low and tender, murmuring loving
' words.
" Our boy," Susy whispered. " I
I meant to tell you the day you went
aw*y."
-* >ynut a nrnte i was: uan you lorgivo
me, Susy ?"
"Mush, love; it is I who should ask
forgiveness. But you will not go again,
Walter."
" Never ! Tho weo darling ! She him
curl his fingers round mine. How old
is he, Susy!"
1 " A week old to-morrow. Walter let
i me call him Montague."
" I should have asked it^'
So through sorrow and separation
i Walter and Susy found the road to liapi
piness, and it would be hard to find a
eozier home. ft more contlft. lmrinrr wife
i or a sturdier boy &an greet Walter
Hope every evening when he returns
from his day's business. Ho colored
with deep pain when Susy put into his
i hands every draft he had sent to her nni
cashed, but ho has invested them for
the use of Montague Hope, Jr.,
while Susy wonders if ever again fine
i clothes or jewelry can tempt her to speak
[ a cross word to Walter.
1 1
' j The United States Agricultural Bureau
! estimates the average value of horses iu
I his oouutry at $71.45 a head.
5ew Bridal Dresses.
Creamy white and pearl white faillee
are both shown for wedding dresses, says A
a fashion journal, but the preference is
for the former. The prices range from n
$4 to $10 a yard. The first quality is
handsome enough for any lady, and the e,
finest is of remarkable beauty?thick, R
1 heavily repped, yet pliable and soft; in- ^
: deed, it is no longer a commendation ^
| that a silk is stiff enough to stand alone. '
, I "Wliite satins are shown in various quali- ;
ties, costing from $3.50 to $10 a yard. ;
Trains of now wedding dresses measure ' w
, from sixty to seventy inches in length, j ^
which is longer than those of ordinary '
ovening dresses. The new and apyro- ^
priate fashion is to adjust this train ma ^
wide quadruple plait from the belt down, a)
as tliis smooth flowing fold is far prettier
under a veil tlian any bunched-up-over- ^
skirt or pouf train. Three breadths of m
silk form this train, and the plait is held ^
I in position by tapes underneath, until gj
j near the bottom, where it spreads out Q]
! like a fan. T1 :re is no flounce, of course, a]
I on these back breadths. A deep side y
I plaiting is across the foot of the front 0
i ftThl flido rrnrna ond oKovro
I v. QN/AVU) luiu HWVIO mun lo a oqIUUO jjj
tablier, formed by throe bias bands of
silk, piped on one side, and edged below Q]
by a tulle plaiting. These cross the ^
front breadths and extend np the side ^
gores to the belt, producing a very fs
pretty effect. Clusters of or%nge flowers ^
are down the middle of this tablier, and Bj
also down the tulle jabot that trims the Bj
box-plait behind. The basque is a long Bj
smooth cuirass with pointed neck and ^
antique slevees, trimmed with abundant
ruches of tulle around neck and elbows, ^
with merely a piped band on the edge of e,
the barque. Little shell bows of silk
I fasten the front, and one is plaoed on p:
the back of the waist and on each elbow.
Another stately wedding dress is partly
of white gros grain and partly satin. The a
front or pettiest is of white satin, jy
trimmed with two five-inch plaitings,
lapping, a puff, and a standing ruffle two ^
: and a half inches wide. Over this a train p
of white corded silk seventy inches long vr
behind, with the sides cut three different
lengths, forming a square front and u.
deeper squaro corners on the sides. Two
large bows are down the front. The e>
basque has a postilion back with a smooth m
cuirass front. The bride-maids' dresses ^
accompanying this are of checked ^
Chambery gauze over white silk. p,
pi
Awful for the Man. *
it
The Detroit Free Fress is responsible
for the following :
l " Bo VOll OT1 fllO tnrna 1" in
quired a dilapidated man, as he entered
the Central Station, recently, and ad- ^
dressed a sergeant. He was imformed a
tliat sncli was the case, when he con- ^
tinued : " I'm clean tuckered out. It's j1(
that wife of mine. I'm a fool?a blasted pi
old fool, sir! I'm fifty, and she's ^
twenty. She wants to gad about, and I
want to stay at home ; and if I say a ^
word, it's the teapot, flatiron, or what- rt
ever comes handy. I've argued and 0,
scolded, and scolded and fit, and here I f,
I am. Look at this black eye I Look at q
1 mo all over, mister police force ! Once 0|
I was happy ; now I am busted. She
wants mo to go to every picnic, and ex- p
cursion, and festival, and dance, and it's j,,
I killing mo by inches. Then she wants a ^
! new dress to-day, a bonnet to-morrow,
! and so on, and I've got to get 'em, or ^
i liave a fight. I've stood it all along, but ~
I I'm broken now. See that 'ere arm? ^
see whero she put her teeth in thar this H1
morning, when I would not let her ^
have money to buy a pair of high-heel- ^
,* ed shoes. Just lay yer eyes on that air ~
scar, mister polioe {<oroe! ' g.
" It's pretty tough," said the sergeant, &]
as he looked. w
" Touorh ! Great heavens f its' uwfnl t .
perfectly awful! to bite in that way 1" ft
( continued the old man. " But the end q
| lias come. I've got relashuns over ^
! tliar who wouldn't see me abused, and q
11 she's welcome to what's in the house. jc
! If any one comes around here sayin' ^
I've committed suicide or disappeared, y
just tell 'em how it is, mister police ^
force?tell 'em I suffered and suffered, y,
until I had to leave her to die. Tell J,
everybody to beware of her; she looks C]
| nice, but she's a varago, a liippercrit?a ^
regular yaller fox, behind the currant
bushes!'
i The sergeant promised, and the old
man rolledj down his sleeves and pursued
his journey towards the ferry.
t>
Maine Ship Bnlldlng.
* b
The Portland Rrea? has prepared an ; tl
' exhibit of the amount of tonnage built . o
1 in Maine during the year 1874, from ,
which it appears that the wholo number tl
1 I of vessels built and registered duriug n
i the year as far as reported is : Ships,
l 15; barkentines, 11; barks, 23; brigs, n
13; schooners, 104; steamers, 5; tugs, 4;
1 other vessels, 7: total tonnage of sumo, e
; 75,533 tons. Number of vessels regis- j:
tered, built, "and building, and to be
completed within the year: Ships, 19; ; e
barkentines, 12; barks, 33; brigs, 15 ; k
l schooners, 118; steamers, 5 ; tugs, 4; i
t other vessels, 13; aggregate tonnage of j
i same, 90,621. 1 e
THE DIPHTHERIA.
Fear fat Hcenrge WWt HmiM to Dmw.
A fearful scourge, His diphtheria, is
ow afflicting many sections, large and
nail, of the United States, and there is
very reason to believe that it will extend
itlier than decline in its ravages. So
uportant has the matter ef its arrest
eoome, that a meeting of the leading
hvsicians of New York city was latety
eld, and the origin, rise and program of
le scourge was carefnllv oonstdered. It
as known that in New York the dtathn
y diphtheria had grown gradually every
ear from 53 in 1859 to 1,151 in 1878,
ith a considerable increase in 1874.
he physicians, after deliberation, arrived
t the following practical oondiaskms:
1. If diphtheria has gained a foothold
l any city or populous neighborhood, it
dects certain localities in which its perstenoe
is speedily marked, and its perjstenoe,
as shown by repeated outbreaks
r continued prevalence, seems to hold
a important relation to certain oondions
of soil, drainage, and sanitary wants
f dwellings, which admit of preventive
teasures.
2. The extension of the disease from
ae individual to another and to entire
ouseholds or families, and from finally
> family, and from place to place, are
icts so well proved in the history of the
isease that the entire separation of the
ck from the well, at least of chSUren
ck with this disease from all outers,
lould be regarded as a first-rate sanitary
nty.
3. That the immediate sanitary as well
i perfect medical care of every family
cpoaed fa> it seems to be a duty required
y every consideration of humanity-and
ublic health.
4. That a complete and exact record of
iphtheraaas it prevails in any locality is
duty of much importance to society,
id that, for the purpose of promoting
ie successful discharge of this duty to
>ciety and the medical profession, the
ublic Health Association of the city of
ew York respectfully submits the folwing
resolution as embodying its view
pon the subject:
Rcsolvmdi, That every Board of Health,
rery county and city medical society,
id every practitioner of issflatwan in t&s
bate of Uew York, is most respectfully
rged to- cause a correct record to be
rcparecB concerning the beginning,
regress ? local, domestic, and hygienic
mditdons under which diphtheria occurs
i any plhoe in the State.
The Jockey's Race.
San Rancisoo has this year been giwig
the same experis&oa that every lodity
does every year, where hone racig
exists. A paper gives a detail of
dw the* thing is done: Two jockeys m
at their small heads togetbee ml lay
it a campaign. Here is a hozsa that
is no fast record, but is a good second
> (jtoiaBmitli mid. Ttiw want of a
>oord permits him to be beaten without >
cciting: suspicion, thus re Tiling GMi>rnia
enthusiasm on their favorite horse,
ue jockey takes charge of Occident, the
iicr of Fullerton. Occident wine the ' ;
ret race, and up go the California hats,
he next is trotted to wagon. Occident
liiaves badly and Fullerton wins, mafcig
very extraordinary time. A. week
iter the horses are brought tpgetber
^ain. This time Occident behaves
)lendidly, and Fullerton. is the one that
innot be managed. Occident wine to
llky, only one heat being in leas time
lan Fullerton made to wagon the week
ofore. Everybody feels glad that the
allant little brown horse won the raoe,
at few have more oonddenoe in his
jility to beat Fullerton than when they
ent on the ground. The race had every
ppearanoe of being sold. It does not
>llow that the owners of Fullerton and
ocideut had anything to do with buyig
and selling. Probably they had not.
wners are not usually consulted by
ckeys in these little matters. They
rrango tliat among themselves. The
ling the publio has to consider is, if it
i worth while to be victimised year after
ear by jockeys for the aako of witneeslg
a trotting raoe that is probably de- J
ided before either horse goes on the
rack." . . ,t
Questions for IHscnssloa.
The (1 ranges of Iowa isstte every
louth a list of questions for the farmers
j discuss. Here is the last lot :
Main Question?What benefits have
ecu secured to the producing classes
irouarh the oror&niaafaon of the Order
f Patrons of tiosbandrv ?
Siilxinostions?1. What benefits in
tie matter of social culture and enjoylent
i . l
2. Wliat boneflts in the matter of flancial
and material advancement f
3. What benefits in the matter of audi
ducation as relates to methods of form
ractioe ?"
4. What benefits in the matter of such
ducation as relates to public affairs, to
mowledge of finance, and to the inoreasng
influenoe of farmers as a class V
5. What benefits in the matter of ge&*
ral welfare <