Newspaper Page Text
A Family Companion, Devoted to Literature, Miscellany, News, Agriculture, Markets, &c.
Vol. XV. WEDNESDAY MORNING, AUGUST 13, 1879. No. 33.
EVF.RY WEDNESDAY MOBlNING,
At Newberry, S. V.
BY THOS. F. GRENEKER,
Editor and Proprietor.
Terms, $t?.OO per &auM,
luv:iriably in Advance.
T ie paper is stopped at the expiration of
time for which it is paid.
x Tha >1 mark denotes expiration of sub
Our stock of Men's, Youths' and Boy's
For SPRING and SUMMER, is now com
plete, and is second to no establishment of
the kind in the State. No pains is being
spared to keep it first class in every respect.
In addition to our Ready-Made Clothing,
:&e., we are prepared to get up suits, or any
garment, to order, guaranteeing satisfaction
in every particular, furnishing several hun
dred sample of different fabrics from which
to select. We respectfully solicit a trial of
ear skill in this direction, feeling sure that
if those of our people who are wont to send
abroad for their Clothing will give us an
opportunity we will secure to them equal
satisfaction and save them money.
We call attention to our Furnishing
Goods Department, especially to our Laun
dried and Unlaundried Shirts, of the latter
we claim to sell the best $1.00 Shirt to be
found in any market. Also to our stock of
Men's and Boy's Hats, embracing Stiff and
Soft Cassimeres, Mackinaws, Leghorns, &c.,
all of the latest styles. We invite examina
tion of all; if you are not pleased do not
No. 4 Mollohlon Row,
NEWBERRY, S. C.
Apr. 23, 17-1y.
Watches, Clocks, Jewelry.
ATIIMES AND JEWIELIRY
At the lNew Store on Hotel Lot.
I have now on hand a large and elegant
WATCHES, CLOCKS, JEWEL.RY,
Siver and Plated Ware,
TIOLIN AND GUITAR STRINGs,
SPECTAILES AND SPECTACLE CASES,
WEDDING AND BIRTHDAY PRESENTS.
IN ENDLESS TARIETY.
All orders by mail promptly attended to.
Watchmaking and Repairing
Done Cheaply and with Dispatch.
Oall and examine my stock and prices.
Nov. 21, 4'7-tf.
COLUMBI~A, S. C.
The undersigned has the best appointed
IN THE STATE.
FRENCH AND ENGLUSH
CLOTHS AND CASSIMER?
None but First Class Work
Apr. 16, 16-6m.
R,C 0.HAPMN & 8ON
Respectfully announce that they have on
hand the largest and best variety of BUT
RAL CASES ever brought to Newberry,
Fisk's Metalic Cases,
A TORPID LIVER
is the fruitful source of many diseases, promi
nent auiong which are
DYSPEPS!A, SiCK-HEADACHE, COST!ENESS,
DYSENTERY, BILIOUS FEVER, AGUE AND FEVER,
JAUNDICE, P!LES, FiAEUMATISM, KIDNEY COM
PLAINT, COLIC, ETC.
SYMPTOMS OF A
Loss of Appetite and Nausea, the bowels
are costive, but sometimes alternate with
looseness, Paiininthe He'ad, accompanied
with a Dull inia+on~in ihe back part,Ptan
In heright side and under the shoulder.
blade, fullnessaftir eating, with a disin.
clination to exertion of bodyormind, irri
tability of temper, Low spirits, Loss of
inemory, w feelig of having neglected
some duty, General weariness; Dizziness,
Fluttering at the Heart, Dots before the
eyes, eTellw Skiz, ~Hedache generally
er the right _ye. Bestleqsness at night
wit dreas, highly colred Urine,
IF THESE WARNINGS ARE UNHEEDED
SERIOUS DISEASES WILL SOON BE DEVELOPED.
are especially adapted to such
cases, a single dose effects
such a change of feeling as to
astonish the sufferer.
aecompounded from anbstances that are
frefrom any properties that can Injure
the most delicate organization. They
Search Cleanse, Purify, and Invigorate
the entiro System. By relieving the en
gorged Liver, they cleanse the blood
from poisonous humors, and thus Impart
health and vit4!ity to the body, causing
the bowels to act ipturally, without
which no one can feil well.
A Noted Divine says:
Df. TUTT:-.-Dear Sir: For ten years I have been
a martyr to Dyspepsia, Constipation and Piles. IAt
Spig your Pills were recomnmended to mo, I used
te (ut with little ftith). I am now a well man,
have good appetite, digestion perfect.-regular stools,
tn,es gon ad I[have gained forty kwanda solid flesh.
The aroth, the4r weixhz in gulc
RE Lv. RL.MPSON, Louisville, Ky,
Their fxst effect is to Increase the Appetite,
and cause the body to Take on Flesh, thus the
system is nouri.shed, and by their Tonic Ac
tion on the Digestive Organs, Regular
Stools are produced.
DR. J. F. HAYWOOD,
OF NEW YORK, SAYS:
tFew disesw exist that cannot be relioved by re
toringr the liver to its norm~al lunctions. and for
thsproeno remey a sUee be inveted that
SOLD EVERYWHERE, PRICE! 25 CENTS.
Office 35 Murray Street, New York.
Er Dr. TUTT'S MANUYAL of Valuable Infor
mnation and Useful Receipts " will be mailedfrec
TOTTS HAIR DYE,
aHarmlees as spring water. old by Drugista or
sent by express on receipt of $1.
Office, 35 Murray St., New York.
OLD AND RELIABLE.
DR. S&airOnD's LIVER INVIGORATOR
is a Standard Family Remedy for '
diseases of the Liver, Stomach
and Bowels. -It is Tirely ~.
Vegetable.- It never ,
Cathartic and ~
s' \ \d\0
93 8Xa "Liver
.bhas been used
I~ ~ in my practice
Sand by the publie1,
iN ffor more thau 35 years,
Swith .unprecedecnted r:sults.
m"SEND FOR CIROUL.AR .
S, T, W, SANFOR D, M,0,
.N IUy uoowr n n.TLmL vor a m r.mio..
Apr. 16, 16-ly.
amar Purchasig Ageocyl
Everything bought with taste and dis
cretioni. N. Y. Correspondent 0f HERALD
connected w ith this Age:ncy. Send for cir
cular with prices. Best city referen~ces.
Address MRS. ELLEN LAMAR,
S77 Broadway, New York.
A pr. 9, 1N-tf.
ASTON D)INNER IIO0JS.
Pavsegers on both the up and down
trains have the usual time for DINNER at
Aiston, the junction of the G. & C. R. R.,
and the S. U. & C. R. R.
Fare well prepared, and the charge rea
s--nle. MRS. M A. ELKINS.
The happy morn has smiling come;
Before God's altar man and wife,
lHand clasped in hand, all silent stand, t
One flesh, one life:
Ah me! ah me!
Is it for joy or misery?
The parting words with friends are said,
The slippers and the rice are cast,
And to new life new man and wife V
IIav' gayly passed:
AhI me! ab me!
Is it to joy or misery ?
Is it to live as God has willed,
In bonds of love and sympathy?
Is it to share or joy and cate
Is life to be
One grand soul-stirring harmony ?
Or is it rather day by day V
To waken to their cruel fate?
With icy heart to drift apart,
And learn too late
That life must be n
A dull dead waste of misery?
Nay, God forbid! but let them go b
To such sweet life of perfect love a
That hand in hand at length they'll stand
In heaven above, t
And so may be
One life through all eternity.
BJT FOR THIS.
'Millicent, 3Millicent, when is sup- f.,
'God only knows, child.' b
IPerhaps I'd better pray for e
I some then,' said little Jane Blair,
'Really I think you had,' said
Millicent, in a soft tone.
There she sat, staring into the h
little fire on which their last atom h
of wood was burning, and seeing
in the red ashes, into which the
light wood dropped so quickly,
pictures of the past, They had
never been rich people, but always
iHer father was a seafaring man b
-first mate of an ocean vessel
and her mothcr a ticlytousewife, c
who made everything bright and
cozy. How ho used to sit telling ,
his adventures to them when he
was at home'.t
He would not have been a sailor a
had there not been sea serpents
and merrhaids in them, but noth
ing was too wonderful for those
loving folk at home to credit ; and ~
indeed he probably believed them
The rooms had been pretty
with shells and coral branches, and
bright parrots in swinging cages
and pictures of ships upon the
It had been so different from
this wretched place in which the
two girls now lived. di
But thaL was not all; the love
was gone-the tender care that
parents have for their children.
The mother lay in her green
grave in a far-off cemetery ; and 0
who can point tho place of a ship- n
wrecked sailor's grave ?
Sue remembered so well how he t
sailed away that last time-how a
they looked after him, her mother
and herself-how they waited for
news, and waited in vain, until at
last there came to them a sailor,
saved from the wreck of the 'Fly
ing Scud,' who told how she went
down in mid-seas at the dead of
night, ablaze from one end to the
other ; and how Roger Blair, the
first mate, was among the miss
After that, poverty and sorrow;
departure from the dear old home ;
toil in a strange city, sickness,
friendlessness, and, crowni ng woe
of all, the mother's death.
Trhe girl had done her best for
her little sister ever since, but she
was not a very skillful needle
w.oman, and could not earn as
much as some others; and nowa
work had given out altogether,
and she, pretty and sweet and
good, and helpful in a daughteriy
way about the house, was not
quite sure that she could win Si
bread for two in any way-bread si
and shelter and fire.
She was only seventeen, and a
frail little creature, with very lit
tle strength in her small body, a~
and now that matters were so bad, c(
who can wonder that she almost '
imo yetT said little Jane again.
be had been on her knees be
ind the bed for a long while. 'I
ronder whother he knows how
ungry I am ?'
'What shall I do ?' said Millicent
b herself, as she looked about the
oon. '1 have.sold everything
be clock, the books, even mo
ber's work-box and the parrot.
'here is nothing left. The child
rill starve before morning. Oh,
dhat shall I do.'
She arose and went to the win
ow, and looked down into the
trect. It was dirty and narrow,
ud swarmed with filthy chil
Opposite was a little drinking
hop, about which a blind man
rith a fiddle drew a profitless
Nothing sweet or fresh or pure
iet her eye there, but between
bat scene and herself a sudden
reeze blew a beautiful scroen,
nd there was wafted to her
brough the broken glass an ex
On the sill without stood a rose
i a broken teapot.
She had picked up the slip
mong the rubbish cast out by a
eighboring gardener, and it had
rown well in its handful of
To-day it had bloomed; a per
ct rose, exquisite in shape, per.
ime and color, drooped from the
em, and beside it a half-blown
d gave prcimise of another flow
r as lovely.
Until this moment Millicent, in
er anxiety, had forgotten her one
But for a gentle shower that
ad fallen that morning, it might
ave withered where it stood, for
le had not even watered it.
Now a brigbt thought flitted
rough her mind.
She had often seen children. sell
g flowers in the street, and la
es and gentlemen seemed glad to
She would force herself to be
She would go out into the street
ith this rose and its bud, and
>me one would give her enough
buy a loaf of bread, or at least
roll for little Jane.
She would do it-she would.
God wvould give her strength.
She tied on her hood and wrap
d her shawl about her, and
ucking the flower and a leaf or
vo, and that bright bud, that
emned perhaps the fairer of the
o, bade Jane be good and wait
r her and wecnt down stairs and
it from the dingy cross street in
There every one save herself
emed gay and happy, and well
She seemed to be a thing apart
-a black blot in all this bright
She stood at a corner and held
it her flower, but it scorned that
y one heeded her.
At last she gathered courage to
'uch one of the ladies thate.passed,
'Buy a rose, lady-buy a rose!
lease buy a rose.
But the woman hurried by as
Le rest had.
It would not do to stand still.
She walked out slowly.
Whenever she caught a pleas
it eye she hold out her bou
et, and repeated her prayer :
'Buy a rose ? buy a rose !'
But the sun was setting and
ec was opposits the City Hall
ark, and still no one had bought
She was growing desperate.
Some one.should buy it.
Jane should have bread that
'Buy a rose ! See ! Look at it !
e how pretty it is!' she cried, in
voice sharpened by hunger and
rrow. 'Look! You don't look
it, or you'd buy it.'
'These street beggars should be
ppressed,' said the stout man
i had addressed. 'Young wo
an, I'll give you in charge if
>u don't behave yourself.'
'Ho don't know, he don't know,'
.id Millicent to herself. 'Nobody
>uld guess how poor we are. Oh,
hat a hard, hard world!'
Then she went on, not daring to
at nain, and her rose drooped
a little in her fingers, and still no
one seemed disposed to buy it.
In her excitement she had
walked further than she knew.
She was far down Broadway,
and before her was the Bowling
Green, with iLs newly-trimmed
grass plot and its silvery foun
A little further on the Battery,
newly restored to its pristine
glory, and on its benches some
blue-bloused emigrants with round
faces, and their bareheaded wives
with woolen petticoats and little
shawls crossed over their bosoms
and knotted at the waist.
A? they stared about them, it
struck the girl that they, fresh
from the sea, might be tempted by
the fresh, sweet rose she held in
her hand to spend a few pennies;
but when she offered it to them,
she saw they were more prudent.
They only shook their heads
solemnly and looked away from
And this last hope gone, despair
seized upon Millicent.
She sank down upon a bench
and began to weep bitterly.
The twilight was deepening.
She was far from home and lit
She was faint with we4riness
Beyond the present moment all
seemed an utter blank to her.
She covered her face with her
hands ; the rose dropped into her
She cared for it no more.
Fate was so much against her
that no one would even buy a
beautiful flower like that of her.
There were steps.
She heeded them not.
There were voices.
It mattered not to her.
Suddenly some one said:
'What a beautiful rose.'
And the words caught her ear.
She looked up.
Three or four seafaring men,
with bundles in their hands, were
passing by, fresh from the ocean
evidently, embrowned with the
sun and wind, and with the ship's
roll still in their gait.
Sailors were always generous.
One of these would buy the flower.
She held it out.
'Buy it, please,' she whispered,
faintly. 'Please buy this rose.'
'l am glad to get it,' said a
stout, elderly man, slipping for
ward. 'What's the price, my lass ?
Will that do ?'
IIe tossed three or four foreign
looking silver pieces into her lap,
and took the flower.
Then looking at her very close
ly, he spoke again :
'What's the trouble, lass. Don't
be afeared to tell me. I had a lit
tie girl of my own once. She's
'ead now. Tell me, can I help
Millicent looked up.
The man's face was half hidden
by his hat, and he was stouter and
grayer than her father had been,
but she fancied a likeness.
'You have helped me, sir,' she
said, '.by buying the rose. Thank
you very much. My father was a
sailor too ; and he was ship
'It's a sailor's fate,' said the
man. 'It's time you were getting
ome, lass. This city is no place
for a young girl to be out in after
ight. But just wait.. A sailor's
orphan has a claim on a sailor, and
my poor little Millicent would
ave been about your age if she
'iMillicent !' screamed the girl.
Oh, my name is Millicent. I'm
frightened. I don't know what
to think. You look like him
you. I'm Millicent Blair. My
father was Roger Blair. Is it a
:ream ? It can't be true. It
:an't be father ?'
But the next instant he had her
in his arms, and she knew that
the sea had given him back5 to her.
Wrecked with the vessel, but
not lost, he had been cast upon a
desert island, whence he escaped
after three weary years, only to
find his little home emp)ty.
The widow had left her little
cottage to earn her living in the
city, and the news of her death
had been brought back to her old
home by some one who had been
in New York when she died. and
who had cither heard or imagined
that he heard that her children
were dead also.
And the news was told to Roger
Blair by kindly people who be
lieved it thoroughly, and lie had
borne it as best he could, and had
sailed the sea again, a weary,
He had not found all his treas
ures, but that some were spared
wai more than he had ever hoped ;
and the meeting between father
and daughter was like that be
tween two arisen from the dead.
And so the rose bush had done
more for Millicent than she could
have dreamed; and to this day it
is the most cherished treasure in
the little home where the old man
lives with his two daughters; and
when once a month its blossoms
fill the air with their fragrance,
they crowd about it as about the
shrine of some sainted thing, and
'.ut for this we should still be
To lend unto him that would
borrow, and give unto him that
asketh of thee, is both a Christian
and neighborly duty, and if the
practice is . properly conducted
may be a convenience to all
Around. But when all is on one
side it may become a burden to
A good outfit of nearly all kinds
of tools necessary to conduct my
gardening affairs, has always been
in my possession, but to keep
them, and in order, is the trouble.
One comes for a hoe, rake and
spade, they want to garden;
another wants a saddle to ride,
another a log chain, etc., until
half of my things are out, and it
would be necessary for me to stop
work in the garden, ifI did not
have two complete sets of them.
It is -very seldom that I borrow
from neighbors, for two good rea
sons. One is that the practice is
unpleasant to me, and the other is
that very few have any thing
that I need.
But all this I could stand with
a sort of patience, if things bor -
rowed would be returned in due
time and in order but this is not
Five times out of six I must
send for them, and not unfre
quently they come home broken,
and always dull and rusty, if of
iron and steel. in a few instances
after having an implement for a
year, the parties claimed it as
their own property ; and it was
left with them rather than have a
difficulty ; but those same men
don't borrow from me again.
That neighbors can accommo
date each other to mutual advan
tage if it is properly conducted is
very true, and then there is a
reciprocity (as Pat says,)' but
when it is all on one side it is a
This is written for the benefit
of those who, in a measure, de
pend upon borrowing, and do not
seem to think that a thing bor
rowed should be returned to the
owner in proper time, and in good
order. There are two thirngs that
I.won't lend, a whitewash brush
and a piece of soap. They both
came home about used up, and the
user won't buy a new brush, and
to return a piece of soap is usually
Those who can afford it should
buy their own tools, and if they
must borrow tools, at least take
good gore of them and return as
soon as done using.-SAMUEL MIL
IIeaven must begin in our own
hearts or it will be no heaven for
us. Untril man allows the spirit
of love and truth to enter his own
soul and make an inward heaven,
no outward heaven can do him
Men must not only pray that
God would help them, but they
must make an effort to help them
selves; Go.d answers prayers in
such a way as to encourage the
performance of duty, not to neg
Just as the last rays of the set
ting sun were gilding the church
spires and whitewashing the back
kitchens of Detroit the other af
ternoon a inn ard a barrel was
discovered at a stairway on Ron
roe avenue. He was a small man
and it was a big barrel, and pe
destrians who saw him looking up
the stairs and back at the barrel
inferred that it was his intention
to elevate it to the third story.
But how ?
'I'd rig a tackle and pully in
that third story window,' said the
first man who halted. 'That's
your easiest way and there's no
danger of accident.'
He leaned against the lamp-post
to calculate on the length of rope
and the lifting power required and
along came a second man who
took in the situation at a glance
'Go and get some scantlings
fourteen feet long and lay 'em on
the stairs. Then two men can
roll that barrel up there as slick
The little man looked around in
a helpless sort of way, and a third
man came blustering up and called
'Want to get that barrel up
stairs, eh? Well, now, fasten
your pulley at the head of the
stairs and ten men dowi here can
snake the barrel up in ro time.
Where's your tackle ?'
By this time the crowd had in
creased to twenty, and was pretty
evenly divided between a dead
lift through one of the front win
dows and a pulley at the top of
the stairs, but- the man who sug
gested the skids had a very loud
voice, and was determined to car
ry his point. Taking off his
coat he said:
'I know what I'm talking about,
and say that I can skid that bar
rel there alone. You just wait a
He crossed the street to an un
finished building and returned
with *a couple of two by four
scantlings and laid them on the
stairs, and the crowd number,ed
'You want this barrel on the
third floor do you?' he asked the
'Why, 1 was waiting for my wife
to get the clothes-horse out of the
upper hall. She's all ready now,
and I'll take it up.'
!HAnd the little man shouldered
the barrel and trotted briskly up
stairs between the skids. It was
empty.-Detroit Free Press.
SCARE HIM.-'Jack,' said a pret
ty girl to her brother the other
day, '1 want you to do something
for me-that's a good fellow.'
'What is it ?' gro wled Jack, who
is a brother of the period.
'Why, you know that wig
and moustache you used in thet
theatricals up at the Featherly's ?
'Well, won't you just put them
on and go to the concert to-night ?
Augustus and I will be there, and
Jack, I want you to stare at me
the whole evening through your
'What! you want me to do
'Yes; and as we come out you
stand in the door and try to slip
me a note-take care that Gus
sees you, too.'
'Well, I declare !'t
'Because, you see, Jack, Gus
likes me, I know, but then he's aw
ful slow, and he's well off, and I
lots of other girls are after him, I
and-he's got to be hurried up at
little as it were.'
But Jack very brutally declined,i
which shows how precious little
sympathy girls get trom their
own brothers now-a-days.
[San Francisco News.
Grief never sleeps-it watchest
continually like a jealous husband.
All the world groans under its
sway, and it fears by sleeping, its I
lutch will be loosened, and its
prey then escape.
IIave one settled purpose in
life, and if it be honorable it will (
hb-ingr yon reard. (
Advertisements inserted' at the rate of
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Double column advertisements ten per cent.
Notices of meetings, obituaries and tributes
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Advertisements not marked with the num
ber of insertions will be kept in till forbid,
and charged accordingly.
Special contracts madle with large adver
tisers. with liberal deductions on above rates
)ONE WIT11 NEATNESS AND DISPATCH
The first stanza of the old song
('ntitled 'Yankee *Doodle' runs:
"Yankee Doodle came to town,
Upon a little pony;
He stuck a feather in his hat,
And called it macaroni."
I t is about this expression, 'Mac
aroni,' I wish to write what I have
found out by asking questions and
reading in books.
In England, during the re.gn of
Queen Elizabeth, most of the dan
dified things of that time-such as
table-forks, etc.-came from Italy,
and were called 'macaroni,' which
is Italian, derived from a Greek
work meaning 'very dainty.'
About the time of Oliver Crom
well appeared a verse which some
have thought was meant to make
fun of him. The verse runs:
"Yankee Doodle came to town,
Upon a Kentish pony;
He stuck a feather in his hat,
And called it macaroni.' \
But history says Cromwell came
from Huntingdon; and I think he
was not the kind of man to wear
feathers and brag of them. He
was stout, red-faced and rather
rough ; not slim and foppish.
In Sheridan's play, 'The School
for Scandal,' are threse lines:
'Sare, never was seen two such beautifu1
Dther horses are clowns, but these, maca
l'o give them this title, I'm sure can't be
Their legs are so slim, and their tails are so
Washington Irving tells us that,
in the war of the Revolution, some
Miaryland regiments, who wore
very gay uniforms were known as
The Macaronis;' and ho adds
that 'they showed their game
spirit.' So, it seems, they could
Sght well, besides dressing well.
Another author says: . 'A hun
dred years ago the slang for a cer
Lain sort of fop was 'macaroni.'
He was distinguished chiefly by-"'
the strange way in which he
dressed his head ; and he wore
feathers in his hat.'
This is all I have been able to
and ont about the word 'Macaroni,'
ased in the song 'Yankee Doodle;'
sud it seems' to mean something
>r somebody very dainty or finical,
and to have very little to do wvith
the food called 'macaroni,' al
though that also comes from Italy.
'Mass.'-A woman who opened
small millinery store in 'the
wvestern part of the city engaged
a. painter to paint her a sign.
When it came home the other day
she saw that it read: 'Mrss. J.
Blank,' etc., and she called out:
'You have an extra 'S' in Mrs.,
Lnd you must paint the signr over
The painter saw the error, but
se didn't want the job of correct
ng it, andi he replied:
'Madam, haven't you had two
'You were a Mrs. when you lost
he first ?'
'And do you think a woman can
oon marrying forever,.and not
engthen out her title ? Mrs.
neans a married wornan or a
widow. Mrss. means a woman who
as been married twice and is
roung enough to marry again,
nud only yesterday a rich old coon
~as in our shop and said if he had
~ny idea that you were heart
tree he'd come up--'
'Oh, well, you can nail up the
~ign,' she interrupted, and it is
To make anything very terri
>le, obscurity seems in general, to
>e necessary. When we know
he full extent of any danger,
vben we can accustom our eyes to
t, a great deal of the apprehen