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Orangeburg times. (Orangeburg, S.C.) 1872-1875, March 20, 1872, Image 1

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42 F?R ANKUM,1 '
fi - , ? ' ? T^d-'i -..#1.77:** Ii/.''
"Otf WE MOVE INIJifcSOLUBI.Y FIK^ Goi> ASl> NATURE BID T1IK BAME. ?{ IN ADV^A^C^
. it) t?:t ?
"Vol, 1
SOUTH ?AROLIBTA, WEDNESDAY, MARCH SO, 1872,
i 'i i i. iic'ji
3x
THE ORANGEBUltG TIMES
I?, publbhedoVery
W E D N E B DAY.
At
5RANOEBURG, C. IL, SOUTH CASGLIKA
.BY ?.ffif_ _j
HEVWARD & BEARD.
SVBBCBtPTXOK nATES: '
$2 a Tear, in advance?$ I for six month*,
JOB* PUINTINO in. ?11 ita, departments,
neatly txeoated. Xiireti? a call.
_____ :.: ' -nr
"FATHErt, TAh*_ HAND."
_ ,?,.,,.<" Ii .
The way is dark, my Father I .Cloud on cloud
In gathering thickly o*er' my head, and loud
The thunder* roar ibovw me. Mec, I itand
Like one bewildered! Father, lake my hand,
And through the gloom
bead Koftlv home
>ii thy child!
' The day goes fa#t, my Tather i and tlie night
1* drawing darkly dowm Sty faithless sight
Sec* gkeatiy vision*. ' Tear*, a sjtetVral band,
HneompaM mo. I), Father ! take my1 hand,
And from night It but
Load up to light
m Thy child I
The way Is long, Fathrr! and my soul
Long* Car the rest and <ptiet of the goal:
"While vet 1 journey through thin weary. laud.
Keep ate from wandering.. dEather, ituke my
haad; |
?l/iiekly tud sfntjtht
L\%A t<> h-ivfii'e gare
Thy ebild
". .. O , *.'... .f? , ,.'.*,,
The i-t\\m m heave, Father! I have lierne
It lone, and full) <ht hear it. I-e< my, worn
And fainting ?pirh rife l^^hal hle-t laud
ft'livr* ? Txivrm. ?re'^gireiu Failu-r, take my
??and; ii'.iin ?
And, reaching do^n
I.< nd to the ?r?.v. it
Thy child!
TIIK AS^vr.n.
i ,,tT . /.ft" run t 'dl J/???
? ? ' * * * .
Th?* er??** i? heavy, child S Yet there wa* one
Who hon* a heavier for thee: my r*on.
My nrell-liv loved. For him bear thine; and
stand
Il'ith him at last; nnd, from thy Father's hand.
Thy cross laid down,
Rtcelvo a crown,
My child! (Selected.
IbSTlN TIME.
;i am no tired of it aU!" said Acidic?
Clitigrovc.
The little wooden clock on the mantle
had just struck eight; the fire in the cyl
inder stove glowed with a red, comfort
able reflection.
Mr:-, CJiffgrovo had gono down to is
sue orders to the kitchen department,
relative to tho morrow's breakfast, and
Addie was nil alone with a pile of inva
lided household linen, a package of un
ntended blockings, and a work-basket
well supplied with all the necessary im
plements of needle craft.
Aad this was to be the occupation of
her elegant leisure.
Abs, poor Addie!
.She was u pretty girl; rather below
than above the medium height, with big
blue eyes, of the soft color you ace iu the
"flowing blue" china of our grandmoth
er's days, sunny brown hair, streaked
here and there with reddish gold, and a
round face, where red lips and dimples
and shy roses made up a distracting con
fusion to tbe eye masculine.
And her hands were white aud soft,
and her waist slight and trim, und she
wore a number two aud a half shoe, und
altogether would have been phrased a
beauty, had she only been fortunate
enough to live in Fifth Avenue, instead
of being tho daughter of Mrs. Cliffgrove,
w_o "took boarders/' and was oftentimes
sorely troubled to make both ends meet.
Four little brothers and throe little
sisters to make and mend for, to wash
the facet and brush the locks of, and
see duly packed off for school every day
?dyed dresses, three winter-ohbbonnets,
and gloves so shabby that eho wok lain
to hold her hands folded within her
shawl whenever she went out, ami a
treadmill round of daily labor more weari
some than the constant dropping, which
is said to wear the hardest stone away?
thin was the epitome of Addie's Hie, and,
for a girl of eighteen, there is no denying
that it was very hard.
And Addie wondered, sometimes, if
the blessed gates of relief would never
opoa to her faltering footsteps!
To be sure, there wan John Torrcy,
; who had the little hall bedroom in the
1 third story latek, and was a clerk in
I Messrs. Cash and Bullion's bunking es
j tuhlishment?John Torrcy, with the
j clear hazel eyes, and the merry ringing
voice, who had told her only yesterday I
that he loved her, and would fain make
licr his wife! But John Torrcy was not
j rich, and hud only hi* salary to depend
upon, and Addie had always dreamed
that her pretty face might win her a
more important prize in the matrimonial
lottery than u mere banker's clerk !
Yet she liked him a little too, or she
had thought she did, before .Mr. Curew
??hm?! to the hnardiug-housu and engaged
uer mother's handsomest room.
And Mr. Carcw had taken uergtn the
theatre.nnd sent her hopMUclr-. and ' -
her a pre,-nt of a tUMpioise brooch; the
prettiest thing she had ever seen.
Of course he Mas very rich, for he
wore diamonds and rupcrlinc broadcloth,
?itul talked about In* country scat on the
Hudson, und bi?yacht and bis ruci horses,
until Addie's simple eyes Were diluted
with surprise und amazement.
Alas lor poor Jehu Torrcy ! bis heart
would have sunk into the solch of his
boots, bad he but known how s.ruder
were bis chances, compared with ih>s.'
of bis dashing rival !
But ignorance is bliss, at least so sUys
the old proverb, and .\ir. Torrcy's' luce
wum as bright as ever when hi came into
tite little pallor .where Addie mii dam
tug tablecloths.
*it rains pretty bard, eh?" said .lohn,
rubbing his hands liefere the lit.. "Mo
church lecture for iia to-night!"
Addie bit her lip.
"I was not thinking of going to church,
even if it didn't ruin. Mr. Curuw asked
me to go to the opera."
"Mr. Carcw, eh ?" said John, somewhat
lugubriously. "Seems to me you and
Mr. Carcw uro getting to be pretty good
friends!"
"Yes, we arc," said Addie, with a toss
of her pretty little head.
"Addie," said Mr. Torrcy, after a mo
ment's silence, which he employed in
twirling the spoolstand round and round.
"Well?*
"Have you thought anything more of
what I said to you last night?about? ,
about being my wife, you know?"
"Yes," said Addie; coloring, and sew
ingon very intently. "Of course 1 havo
thought ot it ?"
"And what have you decided?"
"That we hadn't bettor think any
more of it, John."
Honest John's countenance fell.
"Addie, you're not in earnest!"
"Yes, John, I am."
"But, Addie?I love you; I can't be
happy without you. And?it may seem
conceited?but I always thought you
liked me."
"80 I did, John; but liking isn't loving,
you know; and the more 1 think of it,
the more I am assured that vre are Dot
adapted to one another. Of com rat, if
you are disappointed, I am sorry; but I
cant help it!"
John had risen up, pule and troubled,
with a pleading light in his eyes.
"Hear me, Addie," he said. "I cannot
let this matter be decided so. It is a
question of life aud death t?> me, what
ever it nmy be to you. Before this Carew"
came?but 1 won't speak of'him," he
burst forth, with an evident ? flbrt at self
control, "except that I am firmly con
vinced he is not the lort of man to make
a good.' husband to any woman?
but you liked me well enough then. Ad
die, take twenty-four hours tnoro to con
sider it well before you pronounce your
decision/'
"It will be of no use,"she said, in a low
voice; "and, John, if you think to advance,
your cause by abusing a rival, you are
sadly mistaken, that's all."
"But you will wait one day more, for
mj sake, Addie?" he urged.
"If you insist upon it; but the delay will
be. uselc.s/Vhe said, coldly.
"Because, Addie, nthb.g like this that
involves the happiness of two life-times
ought not to he decided upon too rashly,"
he went on; "and perhaps- But.I
won't say more now, Addie. Shall I have
you?"
"I would rather be alone," she answer
ed, briefly; and Mr. Torrcy rose quietly,
an I went slowly away.
Would Mr. t.'arcwcomc now? lie had
-jlb.L-bcr/thut ?1'" ??*>??fc-*grf ;s^wd?r,^t.wlv
do.vn-pouring of the ruin seemed to forbid
i .p fullilmcLt of their opera engagement,
that he would spend the evening with her,
r adi.ig a volume of new poems aloud, and
si .iple Addie had couu.cl the hours that
to erveued, in her restless eagerness.
.i our.lohn! how little thought she gave
to him and the. bitterness of his disap
pointment! how much to Mr. Oarew, with
b's d irk eyes and his command of lau
.- u .go!
"lie i- so handsome!" she thought, "and
he basso much slyic; aud then?then he
?ovo? me .-o much! If he had not, believ
er would have j rcssed my hand as he did
last night, when ho was speaking of the
loneliness of bis bean, and its yearnings
for congenial companionship.
The current of Addie's dulcet medita
t mis was here interrupted by Bridget's
voice.
"Miss Addie, plasethe mistress has gone
to market to tec about tbe chops for break
fast as was orderet! to be brought, and the
blond .rin' thnfe of a butcher left behind."
Addie shuddered a little at the abrupt
change of menial temperature. "An' liter's
a lady here anxious to sec her?and per
haps yes would do as well."
"Ask her to come up," said Addie, sigh
ing, as the golden pinnacles of dreamland
vanished in the dull gray atmosphere of
daily life. "1 dare .-ay it's some one about
the big extension room."
And she rose and drew a chair towards
the tire, as a tall, slender figure entered,
with shawl and wrappings all dripping
with rain, and a long era pp veil thrown
back from a face ?hat. was very pretty,
though thin and quite colorless.
In her hand she carried a small black
leather travelling big; and she entered
with the free, graceful air of one well ac
customed to society.
"Youaro Mrs. Clngrovo?" she asked,
las her eyes fell on the figure by the
stove.
"'1 am Miss GTifrglove. "
"1 have called specially to see. Mr.
Carcw, but the servait tells me ho has
not yet conic in. la the meantime, I i
should like to ask you a lew questions."
I Bbo sat down qtjictly, and Addie
vaguely wondered what,was coming next.
"Una he been here long ?"
"Mr. Carew, do you mean?" .
"Ye*."
"For ?beut four weeks, I beHove,"
said Addie.
"Has ho puid his bills?''
Addie crimsoned.
"Not yet."
"I thought so. Nor will he."
"Madam," said Addie, spiritedly, "you
have no right-"
' Yes, child, I have," broke out the
lady, impatiently, "the best right I in the
world?the right of one whom, thorough
paced villain and impostor though ?be; isj
he has cheated and wronged mostcrucUy
of all." I am his wife!"'
"His wife!" involuntarily repeated
Addie.
"Ah, I sec," nodded the strange guest;
"he has been palming himself oil' ou you
as a single man. it is his style Ho
lives a gay life, while I, down in the conn-:
try, am suttcrhig lor the bare necessaries
of life. But, in so fa? as I can, I will
not see people deceived and deluded'b>'
his arts. If, as I suppose, your mother is
onu who depends lor her daily bread upon
her daily income, let her get rid of him
at once. He is not one who I pays Ink
debts, and the widow and the intherless
seem to be his natural prey."
Addie sat pale, and, as it were, para
lysed.
This, then, was her hem of romance-1-*-'
her chevalier "without fear and without
JUJ>K?(l<.ll." ? . . {I
Yet, perhaps there was some cruel mis
take, some spiteful, envenomed slander.'
She would not believe it until?
Even as this reflection eddied vaguely
through her.mind, the door opened, and
Mr. Carew himself entered, with the light,
jaunty step that was customary with him.
lie stopped short, turning of a livid
pallor as he saw the pale woman in black.
"Augustus!" she greeted him, com
posedly.
"Flora!" he gasped. "I?I did not
expect to sec you here."
"No, I knew you <lid not," she said,
bitterly. "You thought you had effectu
ally concealed your whereabouts from
inc; but a neglected wife has keener vision
than one is apt to suppose. Will you not
introduce me formally to your pretty
young friend?"
"Certainly?oh, of course," said Mr.
Carew, growing red and pale with saor
tification, yet striving to assume an easy
manner. "Miss Cliftgrovc, this is?a?
my wife!"
And Addie's look of contempt was per
haps the keenest mortification of all that
Augustus Carew bad yet experienced;
Mr. and Mrs. Carew went home the
next day, the former promising to scud a
remittance to Mrs. Cliftgrovc per mail,
which remittance, it may be unnecessary
to state, never arrived.
Addio became .John Torrcy's promised
wife.
For John's loving heart was very wi.se
in its tenderness, and ho never spoke Mr.
Ca row's name again.
And Addie is very happy in bor quid,
horhr, and always thinks with pityinr
kindness of Augustus Carew's pale wife.
Probably there is not the remotest
corner or little inlet of the minute blood
vessels of the body that docs not feel
some wavelet from the great convulsion
produced by hearty Inujrbtcr, shaking tho
central man.
The South Carolina 1 tail road will
commence vigorously in the repair
I of the Laurent* Branch at a very early
j day.
The King's mistake.
A number of politician*, all of whom
were seeking office tujdajt the govern
ment, were seated under a tavern porch,
when an old toner naincd Joel I)., a per
son who wns very lwmncious Srhen corn
ed, but exactly the opposite when .sober,
said that he would tejl them a story -
They told Jiim tp fire,awgy, whereupon
h i spoke ns folio vs: '-'A certain ting-rr
I don't recollect his nar^e^r-bud. a philos
opher upou whose jud^crneut, always
depended-; Now it, .bajppened. 'jOnp,j;djy
t'intthc king tot l^Ujntfybw bend to go
hunting, and sum mo nod Jus; noble?, and
making the wc^?faa^:,;prep^ratiqi?? .bio
summoned the philosopher and asked
him.if it. would rain; ,;$he pbUvfftfiber^
told hint ,it.\Yflufclinot* ?-jtf^f$fP-tqL
While journeying. al?)ng, ?,ijhey(< f meet ,a
countryman, #ioAmtcd on,.a jacka?fl?tnttlcr*
"He advbfvd them to- return,
.wid'. he, 'it >vil| ccrJabJyufain^, flOfflf
smiled contemptuously upon .him, and
Xntssed on., Bctoro tljcyT ha,d\ gone ninny
miles, howcvertfthcy badrca^n;t^,re^rc^
not having takcu^Uio. rusticV^dY/^r**
n shower coming up dreached them . to
the skin. When tbevebad returned to
ihc placj, the>^inglrci^nn>udcd tho phi
losophctf;fleverely.tB7m * H\ ?Tf?^ ?rfT 1
hc.k?iows a( great .^trWftnfhlRXpK
lie to'd,,rue it wotdd^r^lp^^b^uw^W?
told me it woul4 ,;uofP\ ;^|f(0a>mg ,thea
gave him his walking papers and cc-nt
fjr the countryman, who -nam made his
.up??enrnnce. . - <.
" ? Toll me,' said the king.' how ypUj
knew it would rain.' ? I didn't know,'
said the rustic; 'my jackass ,tpld me pp.'
* And how, pray, did he tell you ?' asked
the kinc. 'By pricking.up bis cars, your
Majesty,* said the rustic,; t ?/*).
"The king sent t|ie rustic away,. aa?d
procuring the jacka-.s of him, he placed:
1 .im?the jackass?in t\\d offico t|i?f;phil
osopher filled., ^?jnjai trt?miJn>?
"And here," observed Joel, looking
very wise, "is where the kigg made a
great mistake." "How to?" inquired
the auditors. " Why ever ainco tbat
t ine, " said Joel, with a grin on his phiz,
"every jackass wants office."
The Local Paper.?A local news
paper is a traveling agent, taking its
w ekly rounds to the families of all its
customers. 2so matter whether times are
good or dull, no matter whether trade is
bri.sk or otherwiso, no business man can.
afibrd to take down his sign, nor withdraw
the pleasing influence of a weekly chat
with his customers through the news
paper. For a business man to stop ad
vertising would be equivalent to saying, ?
"I have stopped bmincss, and ask no
favors of the people."
I never saw a Frenchman laugh.
They smile, they grin, they shrug
up their shoulders. They (lance, they cry
"Ha!"and" Cicl?" but they never givo
themselves up to boisterous, unlimited
laughter.
Men and statues that arc admired in
an elevated station have a very different
effect on us when wo approach thorn: tho
lirst appear less than wo imagined them,
the last larger.
Every heart lias secret sorrows which
the world knows not, and oft-times wo
caii a man cold when ho is only sad.
A locomotive consumes, on the average,
forty-five gallons of water for every mile
it runs.
These two lines look very solemn,
Arc just put here to fill this column'

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