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The Newberry herald. (Newberry, S.C.) 1865-1884, August 09, 1883, Image 1

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A Family Companion, tevoted to Literature, Miscellany, News, Agriculture, Markets, &c.
Vol. XIX. NEWBERRY, S. C.; THURSDAY, AUGUST 9, 1883. No. 32.
At Newberry, S. C.
Editor and Proprietor.
r2ares, $2.0oper .frnmns,
- Invariably in Advance.
The is stop at the expiration of
tisie for w h it is pi.
87 The M4 mark denotes expiratio of
-mbracing a L
0ents' Furmii
This stock is c6mplete in all its varieties
My Stock of Gel
has been selected with great care and ca
Low Quarters and Gaiters
All orders addressed to my ca:-e will
May 2, 18-ti.
Ezgines a?
Cottorn Gins -
Have been Awarded FIRST PREE
We Deal Dired with the Pure1aa
-May 8, 19-4'nos.
1st-It is the easiest running press mad
made, 3rd-It is the most durable press1
as any press made, 5th-It will take less
made. 6th-(ast but not least) It costs I
411 subscribers to the HERALD are
vyngdto ask for andreceive a copy of
KendsW+s Treatise on the Horse. *Ag
,ery *alusble book which we intend tof
istribute free,.f
IG IF" .188
arge Stock of
hiing G&ods.
and styles.
Lts' Fine Shoes
n furnish you all the styles.
In Calf and Matt JUd.
be attended to promptly.
a Sons,
e "f
m E W not
anid Presses. rus
[W, Grer all Competitors, at ing
r, and Guarantee 'Satisfaction. his
TT & SO1NS, -'
COLUMBIA, 8. C. an
e. 2d-It is as strong as any pass Leal
made. 4th-It will do as good work
to keep it in repair than any press sho
ess than any first-class press made. he
. rou
- bee
Ef thei
>Free. and
A copy of the Great Industries of the
nited States, a large $5 book, wil be g
[en for two names to the HERALD, if ing
scompaied by $4. Only two subscri
ers. Four dollars in subscriptions,m]
xd fie iabook. ti. end
He wore but one suspender,
And with neither coat cr vest;
He was on a high old bender
In a peaceful town out West;
His muddy homespun tromers
Were in his boot-legs stuck,
And his yells at times, old rousers,
He said were "just for luck "
He had a big horse-pistol,
And he stated he coul'! smash
A small sized watch's crystal
At a hundred yards, for cash.
He wore no tie or e4llar,
And his shirt, .ot over fine,
Cost just one-half a dollar
In the day, of "Auld Lang Syne."
He scorned the town officials,
Unmindful of their stars,
And carved uncouth initials
On the -village liquor bars,
He .sedmd to have no money,
And whene'er he took a drint,
He callec the landlord "sonny,
And pa.d him wi', a wink.
With nQisy song and whistle
He on a horseblock sat,
And ired h1 old horse-pistol
At the mayor's bee-gum hat,
He paled the ladies' faces
With his loud, sardonic laugh
Andlmade uncouth grimaces
At the constable and staff.
But a fellow met this cowboy
And caughs him by the ear,
And'said, quite coolly, "Now. boy, -
'Tis time you get from here!"
Then he shook up his digestion
In a way that raised a laugh,
And proved beyond a question
That the cowboy was a calf.
Shan't go a step farther !"
Only just a little way-we shall
a be home now, and mother's
I don't care. I've made up my
Ad that I've walked too far al
ly, and I'm just going to sit
rn and rest; they must wait, and
iall do as I choose."
But father--"
Now don't you talk to me about
ts,' Charlie, because I won't
e it, I shall sit down here, and
can go and tell your mother
to wait-not to wait," the man
eated, raising his voice with the
>id anger of intoxication.
till, in spite of threast and re
li',? the child persisted in plead
4at his father should go home;
words only seemed to
ngthen the man's obstinacy,
all the boy could do was to get
father to turn aside from the
a road into a field close by,
~re the man 'threw himself fall
length on the grass, somewhat
oer the. shade of the hedge,' and
:few minutes he was sleeping
vily, whilst the child sat down
a little distance, with a strange
I of nchildish patience on his
;ures, to wait until his father
iidf,wake. Pooi- little Charlie !
knew too well how useless any
empt on his part would bp to
se his father from that sort of
Lather more than half an hour
tpassed in this dreary waiting,
[ Charlie was beginning to find
his s'mall sources of amusement
him. He had watched a large
thq. kept hovering ever the con
guits blossoms in the hedge,
I woridered if he had not nearly
shied his day's work; had placed
iail out of harms way, and had
n tempted to chase a beautiful
ated butterfly that fiitted past
L; but he began at last to lose
interest in bees and butterflies
it was now tea-time, and Char'
was growing terribly hungry.
1 he did not think of deserting
post, for no one but the child
self knew how often he had kept
tiDsy father off the country road
in carts or carriages were comn.
along, nor how he managed to
le him in safety over the narrow
Ige that led across the river to
r cottage.
o Charlie sat there quietly,
igh he was growing more tired
hungry every moment, until
sound of a whistle at a distance
acted his attention, the sound
lually coming nearer and sound
more distinct, until a young
jumped over the stile at the
of the field and approached the[
child, who then knew him to be a E
gentleman he had. often,met during m
the last few weeks, sometimes sketch- in
ing, sometimes wandering about th
with his knapsack on his back and ju
his portfolio under his arm. In- or
deed a kind of half acquaintance th
had sprung up between the young in
artist and Charlie-one attracted. cc
by the glimpses he had caught of wl
the pictures contained in the won- ph
derful portfolio, the other by the ph
child's wistful glances and his rustic he
beauty. so
Busy with his own thoughts, and an
judging from hie happy face they m<
were vYery pissant ones-perhaps he
dreams of the tirne when some won-' sk
derful picture cf his should, hang Bt
on the walls of the acadeiny, and
by so d i,r help hi*4 on: the road
-t;, S&zw awl fortune-Eustace Car- I
roll had half crossed the field before
he noticed Charlie and his father. the
Then his quick eyes told him the I "Y
meaning of the little scene; the lik
quiet, weary-looking child and the of
sleeping father, with his untidy a 1
clothes and collar and necktie un- co
fastened, and his face. turned-up to off
the blue sky that looke(.,down.upon hig
nothing so debased as this man,
whom God had made "a little lower yo
than the angels," and who, by his chi
own vice, had thus degraded him- ag
self. do
With the quick instinct of child- we
hood, Charlie understood the look ha(
of disgust with which the young tal
artist turned to him, saying kindly pr<
as he did so:
-"You are waiting to take your ten
father home, I suppose?" an
"Yes, sir," replied the child. in
whilst a flush of shame spread over ide
his face. , co:
"Well, I thiik he is likely to lie tra
there for hours yet. Can't you me
leave him?" cle
"No, sir, he might be run orer or of
fall into the river if I left him to bre
come home by hmself." shs
"Oh?" said Eustace, as he glanc
ed toward the sleeping man, and go(
wondered if it would be much loss to
to any one if he did fall into the dei
river; but ha checked'the thought, toc
remembering, that he with his re
fined taste, and many kinds of fin
amusement, could form no idea of pe<
the temptation which drink might he
have for this man, with his smaller the
advantages of. fortune and educa- sot
tion; and then an idea flashed hin
across his mind, and he determined sot
to act upon it.
"Have you had your tea, boy !" su<
he asked as be unstrapped his qui
knapsack, and took out a small fac
parcel wrapped in paper. paq
"Mother will be sure to keep it dis
for me until I get home, sir," re
plied Charlie, too brave to corn- cot
plain to a stranger. .ha<
"That's all right," said Eustace, act
understanding and respecting the ma
feeling ,that dictated the answer; tag
"meanwhile, I shall give you this wh
piece of cake, just to pass the time old
away. When I was a small boy,'
stray pieces of cake never pre- Et
vented- me eating my meals when gai
they came, so your mother's tea to
will not be wasted. Now you sit he
still, for I am going to mnakea pic- ten
ture, and when it is finished I will to
show it to you."
Very few dainties fell to Charlie's a
share in those days, and Eustace tag
was highly amused at the manner wa
in which he ate his cake, nibbling tio:
it off around the edge so as to make ha<
it last as long as possible; and he brc
succeeded so well that the picture tur
was fintshed almost at the same'
time as the last currant disap- his
peared. tha
"Well, was it gbod?" asked Eus- her
tace, as he tied his portfolio. fell
"Yes; mother does not put cu'r- he
rants in her cakes. Sometimes on cot
our birthdays, when father has not dot
been out, we have a cake; but then ]
we have no seeds in it." the
"And those are not so nice?" she
"Oh, no, sir, of course not !" an- fou
swered Charlie, surprised that any "It
one should ask such a question. sir,
"Well, I am glad you like it. I "I
am going back to the city in s&day wh:
or two, but I shall put another der
piece of cake in my knapsack in ash
case I meet you again before I go. not
Look here; do you know who this I e'
is?" - -unt
Charlie glanced at the little pic- gas
ture Eustace held out to him, aud pici
then he' gave a scream of surprise, not
"Why, it's me and father !" wh*
And so it was; and even though one
istace should live to be an old
n he will never. succeed in mak
; anything more true to nature
an that hurried sketch. He had
3t caught the tired, wistful look
the child's face, and it was all
e more striking as it was brought
,o such contrast with the vacant
untenance of the tipsy sleeper.
o looked so thoroughly out of
ice beside the child, and the
asant green background of the
dge, where the convolvulus- blos
as ningled with the wild rose
d blackberry flowers. "Wait a
ment," said Eustace, and then
wrote at the bottom of the
Aech three lines from a poem of
'0 wad some power the gifte gie us
ro see oursels as ithers see us,
t,wad frae many a trouble free us."
"There," he continued, -putting
picture in the child's hands.
on shall have that, and if you
e to show it to your father one
hese days, doso ;it may teach him
esson." And; before the child
ild make any reply Eustace was
and away, tramping along the
h road.
Five years had passed before the
ing artist had the time and
Lnce to visit the quiet village
tin. In those five years he had
ie good work-had thpught, and
rked, and painted, until people
I begun to believe in him, and
ked of him as one of the most
mising painters of the day.
still, in the midst of it all, he of
remembered his little sketch,
I wondered-without much hope
the wonder, though-whether his
a that it might do good had
ne to pass; and on the day he
veled down to Mortson, the
mory of the scene came
arly before him with the thought
the grand old words-"Cast thy
ad upon the waters, for thou
ill find it after many days."
'Such a poor little crumb of
>d though it was," said Eustace
himself, "still I wonder-I won
=-and I'll try to find it out,
Lnd as it happened, Eusace did
I it more quickly than he ex
ted, for that very evening, as
was returning from a walk in
course of which he had visited
oe of his old haunts, there passed
i on the road a man and a hand.
ie boy of about thirteen..
My little friend and his father,"
ldenly thought Eustace whose
ck, artist eye, seldom forgot a
e or figure, and he quickened his
te in order to keep within a short
tance of' the boy.
o0 the three went on, past the
ner of the field where the sketch
I been taken, down the road and
oss the narrow bridge, till the
ni and boy reached a little cot
c, the small front garden of
cic was gay with bright-colored.
-fashioned flowers.
'hat looks promising," tbiought
slace; -"no drunkard ever had a
'den like that;" and, determines
ascertain the facts of the case,
went up to the door with the in
tion of . asking the nearest way
~he next village..
'hrough the open door,he caught
~limpse of the neatly kept cot
e kitchen, as Charlie came for
d to answer the stranger's ques
1; but before half the right turns
I been described, a bright smile
ke over the boy's face, and half
aing around, he exclaimed :
'Father it's my painter !" and, to
surprise, Eustace found that in
t household at least, he was a
o; and the young artist never
more reverence for his art than
did as he listened to the ac
nt of the good his picture had
'or some time Charlie had kept
sketch, and had been afraid to
w it to his father, but the man
ud it l y chance, one day, and
was more than I could stand.
'he said, addressing Eustace.
did not need any one to tell me
Lt it meant, but although I won
ed where it came from, I was
amed to ask. Somehow I could
get the picture out of my head.
ren used to dream of it at night
il it fairly worried me, so that'l[
e up the drink; andlIhad the
ure hung up there, that I might
have a chance of forgetting
? I dragged myself -down :to
So the story ended; and ii
heart Eustace Carroll is proud
that little sketch, hanging in a
mon black frame over the ma
piece of the country cottage,
than he would be if he should F
a picture that would make his n
famous throughout his life.
A young New Englander, wl
knowledge was more showy I
deep, went many years ago
teach a district school in Virgi
Among his pupils was a si
rather dull and insignificant 1<
ing boy, who annoyed him by
questions. No matter what the i
ject under discussion, this lad
'parently never could get i
enough to the bottom of it tt
One warm August morning,
teacher, with no little vanity
knowledge universal in those d
began to lecture to the boys on
habits and cht:racteristics of a
which one of them had caught
ing recess. He finished, and
about to dismiss the school, w
his inquisitive pupil asked al
4heir gills and their use.
The question answered, oti
follo'wed, cpncerning the sc
skin, flesh. The poor teacher at
gled to reply with all the infor
tion at his command. But t.t
small, and the day grew warn
and the Saturday afternoon's
iday was rapidly slipping so
"The school will now be
missed," he said, at last.
"But the bones ! You have
us '-othing about the bones!" i
the anxious boy.
Mr. Dash smothered his am
ance, and gave all the informa
he could command on the sh
structure and use of the bones.
"And now the school"-he
"What is in ide of the bond
stolidly came from the corner w]
the quiet, boy was sitting.
Mr. Dash never rememb
what answer he gave, but the q
tion and his despair fixed tb
selves in his memory. Thirtv.
years afterward he visited W
ington and entered fhe room wi
the Justices of the Supreme C
were sitting.
The Chief-Justice, the most le;
ed and venerated man of his
was a man like St. Paul, whose 1
ily presence. was contemptible.
The stranger regarded hinm
first with -awe, then with a m:
"It is the boy who went insid
the fish's bones !" he exclain
It is the boy Who penetrate
the heart of the matter who is
successful scholar and afterwi
lawyer, physician, philosopher
It is the man whose ax is laid
the root, not the outer brancl
whose religion is a solid foundai
for his life here and beyond.
[Baptist Weekli
A Boy's EcoNoM.-A boy se
or eight years old was pass
along Elizabeth street ye
with a dime in his finger ,
another boy accosted him wit.
"What ye going to buy?"
"What for?"
"To keep moths away."
"Say," said the second boy, a~
came nearer, "I'll tell you what
do. If 'you'll spend five centi
that for candy I'll lend you my
all one day to hunt down the mol
and if he don't catch 'em all
lend you the bossest rat-trap in I
city ! You can just as well s;
five cents as not."-Detroit .1
BmDs OF PAssAG.-How ml
donkeys have you in Austin,
little man t" asked a passenger
the South bound train, protrud
his head through the car wind
at the depot.
"0, we've got some few donk<
here in Austin, but most of th
keep right on through to San a
The stranger bumped the back
his head on the window and sa
back in his seat-&ng.
ntel-' "18 ihe man. that gets up the fun.
than ny column here?" asked a smirking
aint little chip as he poked a bulbous
ame little nose into the room.
"O, yes," said a bal4lieaded man
I with a disordered necktie, grizzled
beard and face like that of an un
dertaker at " expensive funeral.
"Walk right in ;"'and he caught
the little man viciously by the col.
. lar.
"Want to see the funny man;
iose don't you?" and he butted the little
fellow s head through a seventy.
five-cent looking-glass.
nia. "Like to look -at the 'comic,'
' wouldn't you?" and he tore the in
trader's coat down the back and
;ub-took a fresh grip on his shirt.
"Come down from the country to
see the 'old. clown,' haven't you ?
be Like to see him stick his head
through a paper balloon, say 'Hey,
diddle diddle, the fool's in the mid.
the die,' and get cut arpund the legs
in a by the ring-master, I suppose,'
Vys and a No. 12 boot collided with
the the seat of the little wrteh's trous
fish erswith a shock like that of a dy
lur- namite bomb.
was "The'bufoon'ain't in;heis train.
hen ing a new jackass. Come right in.
lout Chdre afprce dt going to
begin. Sit down ;" and he jammed
,ers the terrified little visitor into a
les, keg of printer's ink.
"The 'queen's jester' will be
ma- along pretty soon. Wait for the
was great show !" he yelled, as the little
man madly tried to-esespe through
two closet doors, and 6ially rolled
. down stairs, e saompanied by the
water cooler, two ink jugs and the
old paste pot
"Want one more paragraph, Mr.
Graves," said a voice through the
speaking tube, and the solemn man
Lion wound awettowelaround.-isheed,
sat down at the desk, and wearily
"Is a man getting up stares
when he buys an eye-glass"
(Bostoa B.sa
A good story is told of two sol
me- diers, oie of whom went without
em- broth, while the other made it of
fve excellent quality of a lint-stone.
ash- The first begged at every, door of a
rewhole village which they had just
mrt entered for allo' he materials of
simple broth; but the villager~s tpid
a-him he asked too much, and shut
Lay, their doors in his face.
His comrade, however, picked up
a stone, knocked at 'the nearest
at door, and asked if they would. be
aze- so good as to. oblige him with a pot
in which to boil the stone. .Even a
e of miser would have granted so ulodest
ed. a request. They lent him the pot,
s to and soon the wily soldier was boll
the ing a larg~e stone under the curious
deyes of half a dozen bystanders.
or "Could one of you give me a lit
tle salt?" the cook asked. The
i a salt was given.
**' A minute later, he observed,
ion "A few herbs make a pleasaait
seasoning for stone soup, but I
- must manage for once to relish
without a perfect flavor."- In g
yen trice, one of the spectators threw a
ig bundle of herbs in the pot, saying,
lay "so clever a fellow should have soup
hen to his taste, when he shows us how
to make it of a stone."
A few minutes later, the adven
turer remarked, "Stone broth. is
good, but there is no question athat
a scrap of beef or bacon brings ouit
he the flavor of the flint." Another
I'll kind spectator at once supplied
3 o' him with a piece of bacon. Half
log anuhour-had not passed since his
hls, arrival in the village when the sol
I'l dier was enjoying an excellent and
his substantial repast made of the ma- 1
ave terial for the "improvement" of his
'ree broth.
SPAne LEGS.-A little girl was'i
in standing at the depot to see her
my father and a gentleman friend of1
on when she suddenly observed to her
ing father, referring.to his fMend, whoa 1
ow was tall and lank, "If the cars run
off the track 'and any legs must be
sys broke, I hope they'll.be Mr. H's."
em "What's that for?" said the startled~
In- H. "Because;" she added, artless
ly, "Aunt Mary says you have'
of a pair of spare legs." The "All
ak aboard !" of the conductor prevent
ad any explanation.
1 - tT
sn.7 amm tou
Double oans _____
on above.
otoea atma r,es
adersmemu. -
Neicet in Lock
btwoffetg '6
-imrswith e5qI
A cubit isftwo feet.
A space is three feet.
A fathom is sil feet.
A palm is hree inches
A league is three miles.
There are 2750 la
A great cubit is eleven s
Two persons ie every
Bran, twenty pounds per
Sound moves 748 miles pei
A square mile contains 640
A barrel of ice otns
Slow rivers .flow Ave
A barrel of:por
A barrel of pour weighs
An acre contains 4840
yards. *
Oats, thirty-three pounds
Barley, forty.eight po t
bushel. q
A 6rkin of butter weigh,
A hand (horse measure)
A span is ten and ieee
A ride ball noes -100
A storm blowethirty4Z
A rapid river dows seave
per hour.
Buckwheat, fify-two powan
per hour. o
perihour. -
Comre salt eighty-.ka
per bushel.
A tub of but weighs
four pounds.
one yers. -
Timothy sed, tyess
per bushel.
The frtstmb.natipling
sonia 1807.4 -
The first horses ralbude
built-In 1826-' 27.
A,day's jourady is thsj.
and one.elhgth uSes.
running along i et
of Lake IIuron hunted ut
tain and said:
"Captain, tiwunaeis du~
"Yes, I preinine no" "~
pl."That's la geas
he will get drunr."
Pretty soon the
found that thecIk
been aceldentfly leftld
"Oh, well," ip1Ied4the
"some of the firemen- wE
through all righut"
In the courseeof hag lf il
passenger diseovered thatm
was overloaded, short%bud
leaking, and be returned dta
captain and reported, and a~
"I expect ni*bing less thusa
blown 'up before we reach
"My friend," said the cap n.
a fatherly 'way, "that's y
ohance, We won't have a
Ihe foate is sobering up
have -gone down to stop the
md if .we can't blow yon u.e
settle with your widow forg#
1250, raf aid yon'l live
aral years- yet. rul go dw
see if there is any chane for
isokson wasPrsdt
iouse keeper inW W
m him to complain-tht a
Ieptrtment clerk bEnd not
>ill for months. Janisnn
it her meidly and said: "Qs
ote for what fhe oesiy
ring it tome." -A fawdayw
she came back whtheflnote
Eresident wrote on thme becko
'Andrew Jackson," ,and
'Take lttto the bankmadta
givre you the mosey-end
will be paid." He was righ
was paid when the elerk
You ca iegalo

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