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; I IN ADVANCE !
Voi. J.,: O?AWGEBURG, SOUTH CAROLINA, WEDNESDAY, APRIL. 17, 1872.
THE ORAMBBURCr TIMES
AT....... . ^
3RANGEBURG, P?JL, f*>UTH CAROLINA
HEYWARD & BEARD.
$2 a year, iu advance?$1 for six monthd.
JOB PRINTING la all its department,
neatly oxocutfld. Give us m call.
The Grandmother's Faded Flower.
"Oh grandmother dear, a masquerade ball t
A ball, I'do declare!
PH roll? myr.elf rich in costume of old,
In ri train, und powdered hair.
And a' beautiful girl of nix teen yearn
Knelt by her grandmother'* chest;
"While that ?tatcly daiae, in a high-hacked
Smiled at each timely jest.
"Brocades and Hilkn, and satins antique,
Were etrewn.iu eoiifusiuu rare
Roundthu fair young girl, while diamond and
Kite wound in her bright brown hair.
"What's this? IThat'u this?" akc jestingly
Holding high a faded flower;
" Why treasure it hur?, my grandmother dear
With relic* of bridal dower?"
m" My child, it is dearer, far to mo
Thau *llk,j or itatin, or pear);
For it 'minds am well of vuuukcd hours,
Of hours when I w j> a girt:
" Ay, well I rein end jut the day, 'lang sync,"
Hrlien my Ii rat luve, lust love?gone?
Cams to my aide with thi.- then fresh flower;
'Twas a beautiful ppii ig-like morn.
Bat he's gone iwfurc?yes, many a year!
Hush, Flo l the pearl* are thine ;
I'll meet him yet in perennial spring;
Du n't crush the nWcr?dt'* mine."
And the fair girl gazed in mute Surprise
At ttie tear and dashing cheek;
Ki?m'd the tear away, then her thoughts would
To tli-> ball of the ruining week.
# # ? , *,. . # ?
The ball is o'er?a pure white bud
:Flo folds to her throbbing breast?
She has learned diu power of the fading flower
She found in her gruud-demo's chest.
uy amy ItANDOI.IMI.
"Fiv.} and fifty years," said Squire
D.ickworth, in iditativcly, shaking the
ashes oit of his pipe, "live and lil'ty
years. A man au't ljkejy to be married,
I guess, when he's lived satisfied with a
single lot all these yearn."
"Stranger things hayo tyoen known to
happen, Uncle l)ock\yor$h," said Fcrdi
nund App-rley, who was a graceless col
lege boy of nineteen or thereabouts.
"Not in tliese here purls, 1 guess,"
opined the Squire.
"Well, but, Uncle, .things are ?o dif
ferent from what theV used to be," per
sisted Ferdinand. "You ace, there never
has been a period before when Woman's
Eights were in the ascendant a^ they are.
"I don't see as that affects'my partic
ular case," said ?qtpre Dockwortli. "I
nu'l a wonuin."
"Ah, but you don't comprehend the
imminence of the dangor," uaid Ferdi
"Eh?" sa\d theBquiro.
"With Miss ArimsAhea jenkyna liv
ing next door, and leap-year at that,'
added young Apporley, mischievous]}
enjoying his relative's growing couiterna
"But you don't s'pose?"
"I nuppo.su nothing," interrupted Fer
dinand. "I only put the ease proble
matically, just to convince you sir, that
you can't be too caroful."
"Oh pshaw 1" said the Squire, uneasily
drawing a. huge yellow silk pocket hand
kerchief across his brow, "'you can't scare
me with your college nonsense, Fcrdy.
A man can't be married without savin'
*i will/ no moro'n a woman."
But when he went to the village that
afternoon, Ferdinand notice'! that he took
the way down Hollow Dam, a good
eighth tff a mile out of his way, sooner
than pass the casements of Miss Arim
athea Jenkyns' one story residence, next
to his own, on the high road.
"I've made some impressiou on him, at
all events," said Fcrdy to himself, with a
Sparkle of merry diablerie in his eyes.
The Squire was sittiug in the ti relight
that evening, enjoying the sea?on b 'tween
daylight and dusk, technically known as
"blind man's holiday," when there sound
ed a soft tap on the panels of the door.
"Come in," said the Squire; and a tall
form entered, clad in sober black, with a
bonnet of rusty bombazine trimmed with
a huge jet buckle.
"Good-cvenin' t'ye, Misa A'imuthen,"
said the Squire a little tremulously, as
he recognized the bonnet und garb of his
spinster neighbor. "That there colt o'
mine been breaking through pickets
agnin? I deelaro to gracious I've a great
mind to sell him 1"
"Tipn't that; Squire, thank'you kind
ly," was the answer.
"Set down, set down!" said Mr. Dock
worthy. "Bless me, what a cold you've
got?you're as hoarse as a crow !"
"Ahem!" said Miss Arimutbca. "This
weather is trying to weak lungs hut 1
called on business, Squire."
"I knew it was the colt," said tin*
"But it ain't tho colt," unit] Miss
Jenkyns. "It's myself, Squire."
"Oh !" said tho gentleman.
"I have concluded," went on his visi
tant, "to take advantage of tho rights
accorded to our sex by the year, and?
?Mid?in short, Squire?"
Mr. Dockworth moved his chair a lit
tle back, hut Miss Aritunthea anticipated
the movement by sinking theatrically on
one knee before him.
"Joshua, will you he mine?" she mur
mured, with what might have hern either
a sob or a hysteric laugh.
"I?I'd rather not," said the Squire,
hitching his chair back a little further
"Joshua ! would you break my heart?'"
"I guess 'un't so brittle as all that,''
said the Squire uneasily.
"I love you, .Joshua Dock worthy?I
have loved you these tou years," stam*
mered the. lady, still on hor knees. "Say :
?oh, say you will he my own! I'm a
good cook, Joshua?I'm a master hand
with men's shirts, and everybody knows
that u place au't a place without a wo
man to slick it up."
"I know," said tho Squire, "but?"
Miss Arimathca rose to her feet and
flung her arms about tho Squire's neck.
"Joshun! Joshua! you.will say Yes!"
There was a rattling at the door latch
of the room beyond. Tho Squire grow
scarlet as the possibility of Ferdinand
Apperley breaking in upon hia unexpect
ed tete-a-teto occurred to his mind.
"Take your arms away," said the
Squire nervously. "Plcaso. There's a
dear girl ?"
"Not until you epcak the word that is
to seal my future bliss," persisted Miss
Jenkyns, letting the rusty bonnet droop
on his shoulder.
"Quick!" grasped our hero ; "there's
some one coming."
"Say Yes, then, dearest Joahua."
The footsteps drew nearer. They
paused almost at the door.
"Yes?" gasped the Squire, breaking
into a clammy perspiration all over?
??ye*, yes. Only go."
Miss Arimnthca Jenkyns only paused
for a parting pressing of her lips to her
ancient lover's brow, and hurried away
with subdued rustling of sombre drap
eries ; while on the other side of the door,
the threatening sound of footsteps passed
by without any one entering.
"Thank goodness fbr that!" said Mr.
Dockworthy to himself. "If that young
rascal Fcrdy had happened in just then
?Rut what, what l)ave I done? En
gaged myself to marry that old maid!
1, at fivo and fifty iycars of age! I'd
better go into a lunal
ic asylum at once.
What will Ferdinand say 7 I wonder if |
I couldn't go to China or California or
Japan, or some of tjw.e far away places!
Or, perhaps, it mighty be hotter to swear
her over to keep theipcace, or?"
And Squire Dock rorthv smote his two
hand despairingly 01 the bald spot on the
top of his head, as he reflected on the
futility of any rented,; short of matrimony
for this* ailment of k ip-vear.
Yet as he mused < n past, present and
future, he could no! help thinking that
many a man had foil id a worse help-meet
alter all than Mus Arimnthca Jenkyns.
She was not. young to bo sure, but then
neither was he. Shu-was fair, fresh and
pro'.ty: she was very handy at a wed
ding or funeral; she comprehended per
fectly the exigencies of the needle; and
she was just the element that he needed ;
to brighten up the solitary old farm
"It tttt't a bad idea," said the Squire
to hinntvlf; "but 1 wish she had'nt been
the one to propose it. Very likely I'd
ha" thought of it myself, if the'd gin me
time. However, leap-year is leap
year, and I don't suppose wc ought to
blame the women for takin' whatever
advantages the law allows 'em. I won't
say not hin' to Fordy, but I'll just drop
over there in the course of the morning."
Mr. Dockworthy was a* good us his
word. Miss Arimnthca Jenkyns' brenk
fast dishes were hardly washed up, tho
next day, when he walked in.
iiow pretty she looked, like a full
blossomed cabbage-rose, or a dahlia,
or any other nature bloom, in
the neat black gingham gown and white
bib apron she wore, standing in front of
?ho kitchen sink. Not a gray hair in
her abuut'.aut brown hair tresses?not a
crow's tout at the corner of her eyes.
I "Well, Squire," said Miss Jenkyns,
with nonchalance, as she wrung out hor
dishcloth and hung it on a nail at the
corner of the dresser.
"I've come to talk that there little
matter over with you."
"What little matter?"
"Why, about our being married."
Mies Jenkyns paused with the bib
apron half untied, and stared at the
Squire with wondering blue eyes.
"My 6akcs alivo!" sho ejaculated,
"who's talking about being married?
Nobody has asked me yet, and if they
did, I'm not by any means certain that I
should say Yes."
"But they've asked mo," said the
"Why, you?haven't you ?"
"Joshua Dockworthy, are you crazy?"
demanded Miss Jenkyns with dignity;
"I asked you V"
"Yes ; last night. Don't you romcm
"Last night! Why, widow Percy
took fa here, and spent the evening,
aud I never went across my own thres
hold. And if I had, it isn't likely that I
should go philandering over to your
house to ask you to marry me, I guess ?"
"Well, thciv," said the Squire, "look
here. It's a trick of that rascal Ferd
inand?one of his college gamos."
"That's probable enough," said Miss
Jenkyns, who looked prettier than ever,
with reddened cheeks and shining eyes.
The Squire's countenance fell; he Was
more disappointed than he cared to own.
"Look here, Arimathes," said he,
? ?Don't you s'pose?"
"Yes," said Miss Jenkyns, laughing
and coloring, "I do suppose?that is, you
wished it very much."
"Well, I do," said the Squire. "And
I'll tall you what?we'll he even with
Ferdinand Apperloy yet,"
And when the young collegian heard
that his chances of an inheritance from
his rich bachelor undo were to be dim
inished by the marriage of that elderly
relativo, he stared in dismay.
"You are really going to be married,
uncle ?" gasped he.
"Really and surely."
And what on earth has put it iuto
your head ?"
"Leap year, I think," said the Squire,
with a sober twinkle in his eyes, which
revealed to Ferdinand that the uncle
had detected his trick.
The Brsken Saw.
A 8tORY~Foh BOYS.
A boy went to live with a man who
was accounted a hard master. He never
kept his boya; they ran away or gave
notice they meant to quit; so ho was half
his time without and in search of a boy.
The work was not very hard?opening
and sweeping out the shop, chopping
wood, goitig errands und helping round.
At hod Sam Fisher went to live with
him. ''Sam's a good boy," *aid his moth
er. "I should like to see a boy now-a
duys that had a spark of goodness in
him," growled the new master.
It is always bad to begin with a man
who has no confidence in you; because, if
you do your best, you are likely to have
little credit for it. However, Sara
thought he would try; the wages were
good, and his ino'her wanted him to go.
Sam had been there but three days, be
fore, in sawing a cross-gruincd stick of
wood, he broke tho saw. He was a little
frightened. Ho knew he was careful,
and he knew he was a pretty good saw
yer, too, for a boy of his age; nevertheless,
the saw broke in his hands.
"And Mr. Jones will thrush you for it,"
said another hoy who was in the wood*
house with bins. "Why of course I didn't
mean it, and accidents will happen to the
best of folks," said Sam, looking with a
very sorrowful air on the broken saw.
"Mr. Jones never rankes any allowances,"
said the other boy; "I never saw any
thing like him. That Bill might havo
stayed, only ho jumped into a hen's nest
and broke her eggs. He darn't tell of it;
but Mr. Jones kopt suspecting and sus
pecting, and laid everything out of tho
way to Bill, when Bill couldn't stand
it, and wouldn't."
"Did he tell Mr. Jones about tho eggst"
asked Sam. "No," said the boy; "he was
'fraid; Mr. Jones has such a temper." "I
think he'd better owned just at once,"
said Sain. "I suspect you'll find it easier
to preach than practice," said the boy.
"I'd run away boforo I'd tell him," and
soon turned on his heel and left poor Sara
alone with his broken saw.
The poor boy did not feel very com
fortable or happy. He shut up the wood
house, walked out into tin; garden, and
theu went up to his little chamber under
the eaves. ? He wished he could toll Mrs.
Jones; she wasn't sociable, and he had
rather not. "Oh, my, God," said 8am,
falling upon his knees, "help me to do
tho thing that is right."
1 do not know what timo it was, nut
when Mr. Jones came Into the house tho
boy heard him.. He got up, crept down
stairs, and met Mr. Jones in the kitchen.
"Sir," said Sam, "I broke your saw,
and I thought I'd come and tell you
'fore you saw it in the morning."
"I should think morning soon enough
to tell of your carelessness. "Why do you
come down to-night V!
?"?""Because,"' said Sam, ?I was afraid if
I put it off I might be tempted to tell n
lie about it. I'm sorry I broke it, I tried
to bo careful."
Mr. Jones looked at the hoy from head
to foot; then stretching out his hand*'
"Shake hands; I'll trust you, Sam. That's ?
right. Go to bed, boy. Never 1enr. I*u4v"
glad the saw broke; it shows the mettle's
iu you. Go to bed."
Mr. Joues was fairly "won. Sever were
better friends after that than Sam and
he. Sam thinks that justice has not been
done Mr. Jones. If the boys had treated
him honestly and "above board" he would
havo been a good man to live with. Jt '
was their conduct which soured and made
him suspicious. I do not know how this
is; I only know that 8am Fisher finds iu
Mr. Jones a kind and faithful master.
We notice that Colonel Atkinson, of
Cobb County, near Marietta, Ga., has a
grovo of several acres of common chest
nuts, from which he proposes, so soon as
tho trees como into bearing, to gather tho
fruit for market. We have been sur
prised that some progressive man has not
long since commenced the cultivation of
the chest nut as a matter of probt?as
tho nuts bring from $4 to $8 per bushel
in the markets of the world, and scarce
even at those prices. Land that is
scarcely fit, or too poor for almost any
other purpose, will produce the chestnut
in luxuriance, it seems to be the home of
the fruit. We are glad that Colonel
Atkinson has embarked iu the enterprise),
and havo no doubt of his sucees.
Depth to Pikant Seed.?The proper
depth to plant seed is a question of con
siderablo importance and one which, like
many other similar questions relating to
plant's growth, cannot receive a definite
answer that would bo of general or uni
versal application. In dry sandy soil,
situated in dry climates, a dcoper cover
ing will bo required, than would be ju
dicious where both soil and climate indi
cate the reverse of theso conditions. For
instance, it has been shown that peas con
tinue longor in bearing condition on sandy
soils, when sown at a depth of sis
inches than they do when placed near
the surface, and it is said that the Indians
upon the table lands of the Colorado plant
corn 10 or 12 inches below the surface
with tho best results; but if planted with
only one or two inches of covering, the
crop fails. Seeds also vary in their ab
ility to penetrate depths of soil in ger
minating. Leguminous seeds, and some
of the largest needing gramimo, can be
planted deeper than those of a lighter
character,, > has been given as a gen
eral ruu< aat all seeds germinate most
speedi' when covered with a depth of
soil eq^.il to their own thick new. and
where the c instant presence of sufficient
moisture for germination can be main
tained. This rule is, perhaps, as nearly
correct as any that con be given.