The Greensboro patriot [August 1, 1877]

              THE PATRIOT
PUBLISHED WEEKLY
AT CfREENSBORO, N. C.
I iTABUSHBD IN l--'l 'J
of the oldest, and best Newi-
- in i lif BfU !
in i i v, 1'ubluktr * PraprUtor
,iiabi» iu mlvani-«:
- ' 1 -.* tn.uilli" £1.10.
Including I'imtago.
'■' rabaoiibHi will
■
- (iF ADVERTISING.
ulvertiawmenta payable ID »d
:nl\ ertlsementa quarterly
The Greensboro Patriot.
Established in 1821. WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 1, 1877. ;New Series No. 484.
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and local* lifty per
MagiamW
. A'itniiii-tratorV no-iam
advwtlaa-
Professional Cards.
Mil VII ILL. JOH.N N. STATUS.
MENDENHALL & STAPLES,
I 1 8 AT LAW,
<. It I E N 8 It O BO, N.Ci
ford, Boek-
---. Kau-
- I rcutt ami
[[iv.-n lo
. 3t -'i and i<>
li ol Court Hou.*.
Rome Wasn't Built in a Day.
The boy whu doua a stroke and stops
Will never a givat n>an be ;
'Tis the aggregate of single drops
Tbat makes the -ea the sea.
The mountain wan nut at its birth
A mountain, so to speak ;
Tbe little atoms of sand and earth
Hare made its peak a peak.
Not all at unce the morning streams
The geld above the gray ;
'Tie a thousand little yellow gleams
That make the day tbo-day.
N'ot from the snow-drift May awakes
In purple, reds and greens ;
Spring's whole bright retinue it takes
To make her ijueen of queens.
Upon the orchard rain must fall,
And soak from toot to root:
Ami blussoms bloom and tade withal,
Before the fruit is fruit.
j Tbe farmer needs must sow and till,
And wait the wheateu head ;
Then cradle, tltrenh and go to mill,
Before the bread is bread.
| Swill heels may get the early shout,
Bui, spite of all the din,
It is the patient holding out
That make- tiie winner win.
Make this your motto, then, at start,
Twill help to smooth the way,
Ami steady up both baud ami heart,
" Koine wasn't buill iu a day !"
w
WAL1 n: I'. c Al.l.Wkl.I..
i O I 1 A « ILDWEU.
ORO I I
■ i atari oi
. 1! mdolpb, David*
.. i lleeklen-preme
Court <>t* the
it aaboro
and in court!
,.us of money
.ID. \Y. GLENN,
ATTORNEY AT LAW
l:.;,is,-;n,. A'. C.
II' II.I. | . • t "Ulls Of the
\\ Slat*. Sp>' ... attention given to
. Ij
1 VI. It. K. tinuorj
I) RESPECTFULLY
OFFKKS Ills
PROFESSIONAL SERVICES
. of Greensboro.
Ills Till. MAINE AS THOSE
Charged by other Practicing
/7n/. .<. lani of the city-i>.
'
TolIN \. BARRINOER,
,1 IJM.V AT LAW,
tV, C,
c,. in Hie Court* of Chatham,
I and Randolph.
in Ida banda will be
promptly :i:t« nded to.
' . I Photograph
: o .! t Ilouae.
II. UKBOOBY.
i .•. i.i.'Ki.our.
ATTORNEYS ATL AW
. Hank,
. I IR( >, ,\. I'.
IITII the 81 lie ami Federal
i> be Brut i an be al-ian.
ai. 7l>-ly.
D. A. SL R. F. ROBERTSON,
SURGEON DENTISTS,
ro, \. C.
Oue «t them can
• . .. - be found
:it th-ir oflee on
i.i daay - corner
ilianoe
Uarke,
? v-.-O Batiafactory rrf-
.- given, il
desired.' 213-tf
,0oroBo0/c^
^CHAS. D. YATES.*
— ,—.,.s- I*.
A i.KKI IKK.
GENERAL INSURANCE AGENTS.
GBBKNSBOKO, >. c.
r i lompaoiaH i
A
$10,000,000
.i- 6,047,00b
I 9
1,0
. 1 ... -.--I
503,000
en, of Han ta'ttSI 1,156
laets 251.000
\
290 COO
CHAS. G. YATES,
BK .
■' UOODs, GROCERIES
' and Iron.
U ifactnrei
I ;!'"N PIPE8, AC.
I *.!.-» uaboro
EARS .AGO
■ .' for Cash ur Jiartfr.
I lv.
' \ A CO.,
Wholesale Dealers in
' HANDISE,
.\. ('.
\\- "I. IS. BOOART,
»> crin
v '/ /Hi/ Goods,
i - Notions, and Gents
.: Goods.
' ■ lew months it is
a thai I again
ess. 1 i ordially invita mv
il formi r customers to call
: N : [RELY MAV stock
i| .. tlon.
every week to
kllad.
WM. I! BOOART.
M Hi ige«,8erew»,
St v,-. li„r Iron,
■ « and Roofing Houses
a with CO. YATES
MILLY'S MISTAKE.
Slowly along the quiet countty
road, just as the suu was siuking,
came Milly Clare and Mr. AnueHley
Irom their evening ride. The tail
white chimney ol Milly's house
were just gleaming into sight above
the distant trees, and Mr. Annes-ley,
seeing them, had said :
" Let us lengthen out the few
minutes that remain to us, Milly—
I he evening is so iioe!"
The souud of a horse's feet, rapid
ly approaching them from the point
they were seeking, caused both to
look up in that direction. A gen-ii
in.in, mounted upon a gray horse,
came galloping down the road.—
Perceiving them, he slightly moder-ated
his pace.
" It is Captain Dudlev," said
Milly.
" Yes," said Mr. Annesley,
thoughtfully, " I see it is. He has
been up to the house, probably."
Captain Dudley was the son of a
neighbor of Milly's father, a young,
handsome and somewhat foppish
person, whom Milly did not at all
admire, but who, nevertheless, ad-mired
her sincerely, and who had
been of late a somewhat frequent
visitor at the house.
As the parties approached each
other, Mr. Annesley, whom his
neighbor's rivalry did not trouble,
bowed quietly to the young man ;
a piece of courtesy which Captain
Dudley received with a silent aud
eeremonious inclination of the
head, followed by a much lower
one, marked by an air of deferential
and admiiiug gallantry to Miss
Clare, while he gradually drew his
t horse up almost to a dead stop.—
Milly, on her part, merely saluted
him good nattiredly aud kept ou
beside Mr. Annesley: and both
shortly forgot him in their conver-sation
with each other.
The hour they had passed to
gether seemed hardly half that
time, as Miss Clare's companion
lifted her from her horse, at the
door, on reaching her home, lie
retained iu his the hand that he
had taken, when they asceuded the
broad (light of stone steps together.
" Milly," he said, iu a low voice,
" this has not been the least de-lightful
of the many happy rides
we have taken together. Will yon
promise me one as pleasant to-mor-row
*."
His voice had a tone, his elo-quent,
deep blue eyes, seekiug hers,
a glance of tenderness, that thrill-ed
her heart with delirious emotion.
" If—you care for it, Mr. Annes-
! ley," she said, while her heart beat
fast and tumultuously, aud her
voice, lower than his own, slightly
trembled.
" I must be gone, Milly," he said
standing beside her at the window :
" 1 must be gone now. Bnt to-nior-row"—
he held out his hand —''to-morrow
I shall seek you again : and
we shall have our evening ride to
gether."
Milly laid her hand timidly in
his, with downcast eyes, and re
plii d : " Yes. Mr. Annesley."
•• (iood evening, theu."
" Good evening," she answered,
with a sn.ile.
She returned to the parlor, and
sinking into ;t deep arm chair, with
the heavy folds oilier habit still
trailing about her. lapsed into
thought—for a hall smile was on
her lips, and her cheek still Hushed
softly, and her brown eyes wore n
pleasant light.
But she roused herself presently.
and breaking Irom her reverie, rose
from her seat, with a look of re
meuibiance crossing her face, and
the smile giadually dying away,
blended with a look half ot curiosi-ty,
hplf of annoyance.
" That letter John gave me just
now—1 wonder what can be in it '"
she saiit to herself.
Aud going to a small table be-side
the window at which she had
lately stood, she took up a lettei
lying there.
It contained an offer of the heart
and hand ot the very elegant ami
excessively superfine Captain Dud-
•ley. Milly's lip slightly curled,
| with mingled ridicule and impa
I tieuce. Twisting the note heedless-
! ly in her fingers ; she gathered up
her hat and gloves that were left
lying on the window seat, and leav-ing
the parlor, went up stairs to
her own apartment.
With her eyes still tixed on tbe
note, long after the last word was
read, Milly became lost in her old
reverie. Gradually, her hand suuk
upon her lap—the paper, unnoticed,
uncared for, fell to the floor. The
clash ol the garden gate, opening
and closing, was the only thing tbat
roused her at last. She heard her
father's step below—heard him go-ing
from room to room, and finally
calling : " Milly, my darling, where
are > ou V
Kisiug with a light, half happy,
half regretful sigh, she left ber
room and went down stairs to meet
her father. The great clock in the
h.tll struck nine, as she passed
through and reached the library,
where she found him.
" So late father I" she said, sur-prised,
'• I did not think it. Where
have you been—all this timef
•: VVhere have you beeu, Milly t"
retorted her father, laughingly,
" that you did not think it so late
as nine o'clock?"
"IT oh, I have been in dream-land,"'
she said, smiling. " Well,
where have you been, father V
" Talking with a friend of yours,
whom 1 met by chance. Well—it
is somebody you are pretty well
acquainted with. What do you
think of having proposed for you,
Milly T Now you kuow what it is
—don't you f I met him just now,
when he opened the subject to me."
Now Milly knew. He had en-countered
Captain Dudley, or
rather, Captain Dudley had sought
him. She had prepared herself to
tell her father of the gentlemau's
proposal, but he knew of it already,
it seemed. The captain appeared
to be anxious to make sure work
of it.
" Well, I don't think of marrying
at pteseut, sir," answered Miss
Clare.
Mr. Clare regarded her with
miugled astonishment, severity and
coldness.
" According to your manner of
receiving his proposal," he said, '• 1
should say that I have most com-pletely
misconstrued your actions,
aud it is your fault. Can it be pos-sible
that you have been coquetting
with this young man—merely co-quetting
with him—all this time t
Aud alter raising his hopes, his ex-
|M«etations"—
" Sir—allow me"—interrupted
Milly,with respect, yet withdiguity,
while she lelt her cheek growing
warm, " I am utterly unaware of
having ever raised these hopes—
these expectations-of which yon
speak. If he entertaius them they
are quite groundless.
Her lather rose from his chair,
slightly waving his hand, as it to
end the discussion.
" I confess that I have not quite
tinders!ood you of late, then, he
said. And now his voice had iu it
less of severity than acute disap-pointment
of sorrow—it was more
subdued than before. " I have not
undeistood you."
These tones brought the quick
rushing tears to Milly's eyes.
" Indeed, indeed, you have not,"
she saitl earnestly, tremulously:
" but I did not think you cared for
him so very much, father."
"No matter, no matter, now,
Milly," he said. We will not say
any more about this affair tonight.
To morrow morning he will come
over, and theu you can see hira aud
tell him what you think. At pre-sent
it is nearly time to retire. We
will have lights now."'
Milly repressed her tears with
difficulty. She trembled as she
gave her father her good night kiss
that evening. He saw how her
drooping eyeslashes glistened with
those tears, how her cheek was
Hushed and hot, and despite what
had passed, he could not help em-bracing
her with all his accustomed
affectionate tenderness.
When she met her father at
breakfast she found him affection-ate
and kindly as usual, but serious
aud disposed to silence. The last
night's trouble evidently weighed
heavily upon his mind. This
caused her the deepest pain. She
longed to open the subject then and
there, again, to assure him a thou-sand
tunes of the innocence of
wrong intentions, but she restrain-ed
herself.
The morning repast was 0OD-ducte.
l in quiet. Mr. Clare, almost
from its beginning to its close, was
engaged in his own reflections.—
When it was concluded he repaired
to the library alone. And Milly
went up stairs to her own room.—
But ten minutes had scarcely pass-ed
when word was brought her that
her father requested her to come
down into the parlor. Instantly
obeying this summons, she left her
apartment and descended to the
hall below, where she met her
father, who was at that moment
leaving the parlor.
" Milly," he said, "Mr. Annesley
has come. He awaits you." And
passing on,he re-entered the library.
With pulses slightly quickened,
Miss Clare opened the door and
entered, beholding Mr. Annesley.
as she did so, standing at a distant
window looking out upon the lawn.
He turned toward her. Wonder-ing,
t! she saw his countenance waa
pale, sei it.us, disturbed. But he
advanced, holding ont his hands to
her, aud saying only, in a voice of
sadness : •• Milly !"
•• Mr. Annesley! she uttered,
earnestly, with a sudden fear, all !
undefined,overshadowing her sweet I
lace, as she met him. '• Mr. Annes- I
ley, you are grave, sorrowful! what" |
—she hesitated, questioning him
only with her eyes.
"('■rave, sorrowful!" he echoed,
in accents of paiu. " Is it, then, a
marvel that I should be thus, learn-ing
as I do for the first time that I
have uo plane in your heart 1 You
could not have known how I loved
you, Milly, or you would know how
deep, how bitter my disappoint-ment
is."'
"I do not think I understand
you, she said, lalteriugly.
There was a brief sileuce, while
be regarded her with strangely per-plexed
air.
" You do not understand me,
Milly r be said, at length. " Is it
a dream, then, tbat your father was
with me a moment since, telling
me that, after all, my hopes were
groundless—that you regarded me
indifferently—that you rejected the
love I have so long, so tenderly
cherished for you ' Did he not say
tbat you would not wed me. Milly t"
"You, Mr. Annesley r Sbe
trembled and blushed, uttering the
words with a taint tone of astonish-ment.
" Will you come with me
to my father a moment f sbe said.
And with a thousand tumultuous
contradictory thoughts aud emo-tions
iu the breast of each, they
sought the library together.
Mr. Clare, seated at a table, look-ed
up, pale and surprised. Coloring
more deeply tbau ever, Milly laid
her hand upon his arm.
" Father," sbe said, in a low tone,
" was it—was it Mr. Annesley ol
whom you were speaking last
night t"
" Was it Annesley ? Yes !" he
answered, with a glance of surprise
and inquiry.
" Then"—Milly slowly drew from
her pocket the note she had received
the evening before—" then 1 have
made a mistake," she said, falter-iugly.
" Captain Dudley left this
note for me only a little while be-fore
jou came. I thought you al-luded
to him, instead of"—
Her trouble and confusion in-creased,
("liable to finish, she
turned her head away. Mr. Clare,
glancing quickly over the contents
of the missive, had comprehended
all, at once. With a smile he rose
from his chair.
Milly, Annesley 1" be exclaimed,
iu a well pleased voice, " it seems
there has beeu a mistake."
And so, iudeed, there had. And
Milly learned as a certainty now
what until a moment before she had
not even suspected—that it was
Mr. Annesley, who, on leaviug her
the previous evening, had met her
father in the village, and requesting
a tew moments' conversation with
his old friend, had sought permis-sion
to offer himself to his daughter
—not Captain Dudley, as she had
thought.
" So it was Captain Dudley, you
refused, Milly—not Mr. Annesley f
he said, softly. "What will you
say to me ?
I dare say you can guess what
she said, reader; we all know pret-ty
well that the answer was detri-mental
to tbe interests of Captain
Dudley, as he found when he called,
that morning on Miss Clare, and
was, much to his astonishment, re-fused.
Reading'^ Woeful St ory.
Special Dspatcli to New York World.
READING PA , July 24th—1:30 A.
M.—From early morning the streets
have been crowded with excited
strikers, the war cry of whom was
"Bread ! bread !'' About noon an
assemblage of about live hundred
congregated at the Philadelphia
and Beading depot and4ook posses-sion.
Passenger train No. G that
left 1'ottsville for Philadelphia at
3.J0, was halted and tbe engine
cut loose, but allowed to proceed af-ter
a short delay : but a coal train
that made its appearauce only en
hour prior was held by the strikers,
the engineer having been stoned
from his seat in the cab. Chief of
Police Culleu read the riot act to
the crowd, but they paid uo atten-tion
to it, aud merely greeted him
with howls of derision.
As the time passed the crowd be-came
more demonstrative, and at
0 o'clock, wbeu a body of the coal
and iron police stepped from the C
o'clock through passenger (rain, the
mob plainly intimated by their ac-tions
that the presence of (he police
was obnoxious. The hitter, however
though numbering one to twelve,
charged their adversaries aud drove
them back until, surrounded by
numbers tbe staunch iueu of the
coal region were forced to retreat.
At 7 o'clock another body of the
coal and iron police arrived from
Pottsville aud with (he men who
had already seen service, marched
(o (he car-shops, where they took u
position, and calmly awaited tbe
course of events. At 7.30 (he Eas-ton
Grays and two companies from
Allentown arrived. They formed
at the depot, and thence, with
drums beatiug and colors lllying,
marched to a part of the track situ-ated
near Seventh and Penn streets
kuowu as the Cut. Here there was
a train iu possession of the strikers.
The Cut is formed by au excavation
on both sides of which are streets
which are crossed by an iron
bridge.
Both streets and bridge were
crowded by tbe mob, who glared
aogiily at the soldiers until the
latter were parallel with Washing
tou street. The train before men-tioned
was manned by strikers,and
as the soldiers approached, these
men cheered aud gave the latter to
understand that they approached
at theit peril. Tbe cut for a dis
tance of 100 yards from Penn street
was blocked with people, and these
made no motion to retreat uutil the
soldiers, maddened by a shower of
stones and lumps ot coal, fired a
b'.auk volley into the air. Perceiv-ing
that the warning had not the
desired effect, the soldiers fired
again, this time with deadly effect
The mob, upon discovering that
many of their number were killed
aud wounded, rushed from the Cut
iu all directions, rending the air
with their shouts. The soldiers
continued their march until Perm
street was reached. Then they
wheeled to the right and marched
to fifth street, wheuce they took up
their line of march for the depot.
After the shooting tbe sceue that
occurred beggar description. The
people appeared to have become
perfectly crazy. "Blood ! blood !"
was the cry. "Murder has been
done, and we'll have revenge 1"
And as each body, animate or in
auimate, was carried past howls of
passion rent the air. It was only
with tbe greatest difficulty that the
names of the killed aud wounded
could be obtained. (Tbe killed
number twelve; tbe wounded twen-ty.)
Half an hour subsequent all was
quiet, but in the course of au hour
Penn street was thronged with a
crowd of boys (they were not men)
maddened with drink and excite-ment,
who broke iuto the armory
aud possessed themselves ot about
forty rifles, with the aid of which
they declared they would cleau out
the murdertrs who had shot their
friends.
The threat was not, however, car-ried
out, and 12 o'clock all is com-paratively
quiet though few have
retired, and the streets are paraded
now and again by bodies of turbu-lent
strikers. In spite of the
threats of the mob, aud the openly
expressed sympathy of the lower
and a great mauy of the middle
class citizens, the action of the mili-tary
has broken the back of mob
rule, and in all probability the city
will be at peace to-morrow. The
employees of the Philadelphia aud
Heading Railroad Company aud
the Coal and Iron Company hi this
region are dissatisfied on account of
low wages and the non payment
thereof, but the chances are that
the strike will not become general.
Special to New Y'ork Herald.
READING, July 23.—Another ter-rible
story of slaughter may be
added to the bloody records o f
Baltimore aud Pittsburg. Without
one word of warning four companies
ol military fired upon an assembled
crowd of citizens iu the very heart
ol this city and killed four people,
shot five policemen aud severely
wounded between twenty and thirty
others.
Night liadjust settled upon the
city and North Seventh street for
two squares was lined with people
sittiug iu the cool air of evening iu
front of their homes. The main
line of the Philadelphia and Bead
ing Railroad Company's road pass
es through the city ou Seventh
street. Penn street is the main
highway, ruuuiug iu an opposite
direction from and crossing Seventh
street at right angles. From Penn
street northward for two squares
two lines of track are laid through
a deep cut with a heavy stone wall
twenty feet high on either side.
On this sectiou of (rack the bloody
work was done. At ten minutes
after 8 o'clock the military marched
in toward Penn street through the
cut from the depot. The military,
about three hundred and fifty strong
marched to the tap of a few drums
that could not be Icard a square
away. Few were aware ol their ar-rival
in the city, antl fewer still
knew they were advancing upon the
crowd.
Steadily they approached, when
suddenly 3ix> rides were discharged
iu volleys, aud live men dropped to
the pavements. The report that
the troops had fired blank cartridges
is therefore incorrect. When the
troops fired their first volley they
were given broadsides of rocks and
stones from the tops of the walls.
Quite a number of revolver shots
were returned by parties in the
crowd. The troops continued their
firing, and men. women and children
lied in tear. They had assembled
on Seven Hi sheet to look at the
train that had been stopped, and
they were recklessly and indiscrimi-nately
tired iuto. Tiie citizens are
almost universal in their condem-nation
of these proceedings. In
five minutes the streets were clear
ed. Stores were closed and hotels
and restaurants were locked up.
Business bad been proceeding as
usual, and just before the firing not
a siugle merchant or business man
was aware of the coming of the
military. The streets resembled a
small battle field, ami the pave-mcnis
were stained with many pools
of blood. It was absolutely dan-gerous
for men to come from the
alleyways aud from behind brick
walls to go to the assistance of the
dying. Finally the sufferers, groan
ing and shrieking for water, were
carried to the drug stores to have
iheir wounds dressed.
New And Important Enter-prise—
Addum's Babery.
To the Publkk:—Beiu" aukshus to
rezooni biznis, to gratify a felt want
and to confer a sweet boon upon a
badly dulldozed community, 1 have
cleared up aud leumigated my Fede
Sto and Coufexenry aud opined ii
for a babery, for the reception and
keer uv babies ou Snndy evenina
(rum arlter diuner till sundown.
My patent spiing bottom, wiei niat-ras,
fether-bed stern-whee! drays
will call at 1 P. M. tor all babies
intrusttd to my charge. They will
be took gootl keer ov aud returned
to thar parents a leetle before dust,
onfazed aud in line, g >od helth, fede
flung in. Babies i< very thick iu
these wateis, and 1 kalkalate to git
I,nun babies at 25 cents a bead;
that'll be §250 a Snndy. But 1
shall hire 100 first class misses-a
nuss to every ten babies, and pay
'em a dollar" a piece, which will
leave me |150 a week clere—which
ia good living these times.
Thar needn't be no fear that the \
babies won't be kept quiet, becot
Mr. G. Dabiiey Wootten have been
imployed regly to sing 'em his -Two
Dreams,' acumpauyiubisselt ou the
base drum, and it that dou*t soothe j
'em to induriu sleep aud make 'em I
happy, then uuthiu won't. It'll fetch j
'em, tho,' surtin. l'atrouige ie-1
speckfully solicited. Orders may be
left at all"drugsstos, printin offises,
aud tubbaker lactries. Come for- '
ard atlikted parunts. and pony up \
your progeny. M.ADDI/IIS.
That Barrel of Salt.
One of the firm who run acommis-
I sion bouse on Woodbridge street is
i a man of muscle. He can lift a
1 barrel of flour as easily as a com
mon man lilts a bag of oats, aud
it scarcely makes his ears grow red
as he heaves a barrel of salt into a
farmer's wagou. For weeks past
he has oeen boasting of his strength
of muscle, and wanting to see some
thing be couldn't lift, and the boys
arouud the store got their heads to-gether
the other day. They took a
salt bairel and tilled it with broken
pig iron, old weights, and other
things, put two inches of salt at
either end, and rolled it to the curb-stone,
and at a favorable hour a
dray backed up iu a most innocent
manner, aud an order trom a grocer
for a barrel of salt was handed out
The draymnn aud two of the boys
fooled arouud the barrel so loug
that the strong man got out of his
chair in disgust, threw off his coat
and said :
"You fel'ows had better get po-rous
plasters for your backs. Get
out of the nay and give me a
chance!"
He seized the barrel by the chimes
and lifted away. It didn't move.
He gritted his teeth and laid out to
pull the hoops right off. The hoops
stayed right there. So did the bar-rel.
"It takes lour good men to lift
one "o them barrels," said tbe dray-man.
"Nonsense ! I've lifted a score of
them, and I'll pick this one up or
break my back. I guess the salt
must be wet."
He got iu position, drew a long
breath and theu lifted till his eyes
looked like two towels left out'on
the clothes-line in a dark night.
The barrel didu'tlift. Pig-iron was
too much for muscle, aud tbe litter
aal down on (he walk. His back
used to be plump up and down,
but it hasn't been since that lift.
His eyes are getting back to their
original positions, and the red is
leaving the back of his neck, aud j
he sees two men handle a bag of
dried apples or a bushel of beans ;
without a word of comment.—De-troit
Free Press.
Labor.
The man or woman who is above
labor, and despises the laborer,
shows a want olCommon sense and
forgets that every article that is
used is the product of more or less
labor and that the air they breathe
and the circulation of blood in the
veins, is the result of the labor of
the Cod of nature. Washington ' it, and fry iu hot
and his lady were examples of in-dustry,
plainness, frugality and
economy ; and thousands of others
of the wealthy labored in the field
and kitchen, in olden times, before
lolly snpereeded wisdom, and
fashion drove economy aud common
sense off the track. The necessity
imposed on man to labor is unques-tionably
a great blessing, as much
as mauy are opposed to it, aud
others flee from it. In those conn
tries and districts of country where
the greatest amount of labor is re-el
tiiied to obtain the necessaries of
life, we find the most vigorous,
healthy anil athletic inhabitants.—
Where nature has done most for
man, in providing for his bodily
wants, we find him most jlestitutc
of the solid comforts of life. In
the high lauds of Scotland, on the
mountains of Circassia, amidst the
hills of Norway, the people are
happier, by far more robust, and
more energetic (ban in effemina(e
.Spain or impoverished Italy. Iu
our own country, rock-bound New
England, the long range ot the
Alleghany Mountains, and their
numerous spurs und valleys, sup
port a hardy race of men.
Courtesy to Children.
Some wise person suggests as a
sovereign remedy for the uucom-fortableness
of what we are wont to
call the awkward age of boys and
girls—that time when they are (oo
large to feel like children, and not
quite sure enough of themselves to
(eel like adults—(hat we should
always treat the smallest children
with the courtesy and consideration
that we show to grown tip people ;
and theu they will never feel at a
loss as to theirjreceptioii, thus quite
escaping the uncertain and uncom-lortable
"awkward age." Then-are
few things more important iu
the right development of a human
creature than self-respect. But
how is a child to learn to respect
itself, if it sees that it isaloue iu the
sentiment ?—that by no oue else it
is respected T More harm is, per-haps,
done children by snubbing
them than eveu by weak indul-gence.
We have all seen homes
where the slightest expression of a
child's ideas on any point under
discussion was greeted with, "who
asked you what you thought V or
with sarcasm, such as, "Ah, now
we shall have the matter settled :
Miss Kxperieuce is freeing ber
miud."
It is so difficult to hit the right
mean. Of course we do not want
onr children troublesome to visi-tors
: grown-up people do not want
to pause in their talk to listen to
the uucousidered opiuiousof thir-teen;
but what if we tried the expe
riment of respectful attention lor
awhile. Would uot the little folks
stop talkiug uutil thoy had some
thing to say, quite as surely it they
saw that their words were listened
to with attention, as if they felt
that their voices weie but beating
air i At any rate by being kiud
and courteous to them on all occa-sions,
it will uot be difficult to
teach them when to talk and when
to hold their tongues.
HOUSEHOLD RECIPES-Potato
Pie Crust.—Put a teacup
ful of rich sweet cream to six good
! sized potatoes after they have been
well boiled and mashed flue. Add
salt to taste, and flour enough to
roll out the crust. Handle it as
little as |H>ssible. This paste is ex
ctllctit iur apple dumpling or meat
pies, aud may be eaten by the
most confirmed dyspeptic.
Suet Crust.—Chop the suet very
fine, add six to eight ounces of it, to
a pouud of Hour; when chopping
the suet add a little ot the tlour, as
it will prevent the suet adheriug.
Mix with cold water, not forget-ting
to add a little salt, and work
to a smoothe paste. This crust is
excellent for hot pies or tarts, but
is uot so good lor those which are
to be served cold.
Apple Short Cake.—Make a soft
dough as for biscuit: roll out this
and put a layer in a jelly pan : over
this spread a layer of stewed ap-ples
; sprinkle over sugar and spice ;
dot with small lumps of butter;
theu put on a layer of dough, all-ot
her of apple sauce, a very thin
layer ol dough, and bake iu a very
quick oven. This a mos( delicious
desert dish, and may be served
with or without sauce.
Omelet.—'£&ke a tablespoontul of
sweet milk for each egg and a pinch
of salt also; beat the eggs lightly.
Dissolve in a small trying-pau a
piece of butter as large as a wal-nut:
when hot, pour iu the eggs;
when the uuder-side is just set, put
the pan for a minute oi two iu a
brisk oveu. When sliding the ome-let
from the pan to the dish, fold it
double. Serve immediately.
Tumips Slewed in Butter Wash
tbe turuips, and wipe them dry;
pare, aud slice them half au inch
thick, aud divide the slices iuto
small pieces : dissolve au ounce ol
butter for each hall-pound of tur-nips
; put them iuto the buUer as
ilat as they can be, and stew them
very gently for (hreo quarters o(
an hour; add a seasoning of salt
and white pepper, when hall done.
When thus prepared, they may be
dished over fried or broiled mutton
chops.
Oyster Fritters.—A pint aud a
half of sweet milk, oue pound and
a quarter of floor, four eggs. The
yelks ot (he eggs must be beaten
very thick, to which adil the mill;
aud Hour; stir the whole well to
gether, then beat the whites to a
stiff froth and stir them gradually
into the batter. Take a spoonful
of the mixture, drop au oyster into
lard. Let them
The first thing a man takes to in |
life is milk, and tbe last thing bis
bier.
Pretty nearly all uieu are beuevo
lent when it don't cost much. Tom
Jones never seen poor John Smith
suffer but he thinks Sam Rogers
ought to help him.
be a light browu on both sides.
The oysters should not be put in-to
the batter all at once, as they
would tliin it.
Scolloped Turkey—Pick the meat
from the bones of cold cooked tur-key,
without any of the skin ; chop
it, quite line ; put a layer of cracker
crumbs ou the bottom of an earthen
baking dish ; moisten them with a
little sweet milk ; then put iu a lay-er
of chopped turkey, with some of
the sl tilling, and cut small bits of
butter over tbe top ; sprinkle with
pepper aud salt; theu another layer
of crumbs, and so on until the dish
is lull ; add a little hot water to the
gravy that was left from the tnr
key, and pour over it. Then take
two well-beaten eggs, two table-spoonfuls
of milk, one of melted
butter, a little salt, and cracker
crumbs so much as will make it
thick enough to spread over the
top; put bits of butter over it, and
cover with a plate; bake an hour
iu a moderate oven ; remove the
plate a few minutes before serving
to let the top brown nicely.
'Stick to Dad."
"A farmei's boy" writes us: "I
am tiled ol (arming and want, to
come to town to make a living for
myself What do you think ot it 1"
Well, we think yon are a fool if
vou don't stay ou the farm. The
city is overrun now with "dead
beats'" and tramps, and ii you've
got a dead sure thing on making
"bread and meat" on a farm, you'd
better stay right where you are, aud
dig potatoes, than come here aud
and go to the workhouse and peck
rock. Stick to dad. Stay ou the
farm, you are worth more to your-self,
to your neighbors, to the State
aud the country at large than all
the one-horse, mutton head "pro
fessional gentlemen" that are living
from hand to month in this city Ol
State. Vou stick to tho plow, the
mower, the reaper ; freeze to thai
farm like a lly-blisler to a negro's
lip; raise corn, wheat hay, rye, bar
ley, oats, potatoes; chop wood,
maul rails, bum brash, curry mules,
feed oxen, raise stock, aud instead
of hanging around the street con-ers.
dependent upon lunch houses
to keep sand out of your craw,
you'll be at home on your farm liv-ing
a life of "independent happi
neas," while thousands of "nice
young men," too pretty and promt
to work and too lazy to s;eal, will
be lighting out "over the hill to the
poor-boose," merciless beats aud
lazy subjects of utter dependence
upon public charity. Young man,
it you know which side of (he bread
of life (he butter is on, you give up
the foolish idea of coming to Louis-ville
to "make a living for your
self." Twenty-five acres of ground
aud a chap like you to till it i.-
worth moie to the country than the
biggest bank in this city and the
smartest capitalist we know of to
run it You stay where you are.
I-'cllow the plow, and engineer the
docile, willing mule that pulls it.
Our word for it, any young, healthy,
stout farmer's boy who will give up .
his chances for "a dead sure thing
in life" and come to town on an un-certainty
is not smart enough to
take care of himself, and should be
arrested and sent to a lunatic asy-lum
for a darned tool. Stay where
you are.—Louisrille Courier Jour
nal.
FARMER'S COLUMN
Sheep Husbandry.
Uutil the American farmer is tru-ly
convinced, and is intelligent
enough to investigate the demand.
and supply of the different products .
raised on the farm, just so long will
be remain in the old rut and the*
continued ory hard times be heard.
, Some of the most important add
prominent lines of farming indus-tries
have been shown in their rela-tions
fo the coutinned growth >
out nation, but do tbe farmers an*
class consider the demand aud sun-ply
of the different kinds of prod-ucts
raised on the farm as men ot
other o cupations that buy and sell
dot
The speculator, the merchant, the
mechanic, the manufacturer, makes
tbis a special study. This is tbe,
foundation of their success, if suc-cess
is attained at all. The specu-lator
buys the article he thinks the
market calls for, aud can realize a
profit from when sold; the mer-chant
does the same : the mechanic
figures his time at a good round
price, and a profit on all raw mate-rial
used ; tbe manufacturer makes
what his best-studied judgment
says the people are most iu need ol,
at the same time figures on a good
profit iu selling.
Thus you see all classes of trades
men qualify the commercial rela-tions
ot their business as to the '
wants of the people.
Is this the comer stone of tne
commercial relation of the farmer
to supply the wants of the consum-er
f The farmer as a rule lays out
plans for cropping aud raising
about so much grain aud fattening
so much beet and pork, and in tact
they do not ask or investigate how
the demand was the past year, and
the commercial outlook for another
year. But if tanners must continue
a routine of products, a system ol
mixed husbandry is preferable, oi
which stock must be an important
feature. .
Sheep as a producer of wool is
something that remunerates the
owner .. good profit, and not much
fear ol over production, that
wool grown at home is insufficient
to supply the home demand. We
can look back years and see the
amount oi foreign wool imported
into this country, and wo can com
pate the present and see il we BTO
any uearei supplying our pre
home demand than we were v.heTl
we only bail a comparatively lew
sheep
The increased population ci
foi more wearing apparel and more
sheep.
Every farmer knows nil produ
imported to tbis country take ou*
JUSI the value ol such iu gold; now
the question is asked, "shall are
grow the amount the demand
for ourselves or shall we work hard
to raise money in buj foreign wool
with .'" Look for instance, we im
poried in 11 years Irom 18C1 to
1872, inclusive 57-,b"17,;l7< pound.-.,
an average 52,059,843 pouud .
ing at the pou of shipment $89,375-
908 in gold, or $8,125,082 per 'an-num
at the same time the .in;
of manufactured wool amounted to
on an average (gold value) ol j
099,301 : thus we sec the imports ol
the raw and manufactured materi,
al amount to the nice little sum of
$41,224,383 annually, and this is
exclusive ol shoddy, which, would
still increase the amount. Now
these are figures from census iy-poits
arc tacts. Ask yourselves
bOW long shall we continue In |
our gold to foreign countries lor,
wool when we have all the facili-ties
provided by God and Natuftj
thai man can ask for, iu this broaif
land ofOUI I landing with 1873 BBe
the report ol wheat; in seven j
we exported 335,822,931, busl
while we consumed 1,151,615,300
bushels, and used lor Bead 200,71
569 bushels, an average yeai
47,974,701 bushels exported, and
164,480,757 bushels for our home
use Thus you see we are doinr»
something lor our country in this
line; but wheat, la an uncertain
crop, and the dt maud abroad is
uncertain, so we cannot depend on
wheat paving the farmer even a
fair compensation for his labor, say *
nothing about the money invested
in land, lint the future outlook ia
not so with wool; ii we have a de
niantl and a home demand al
we have something to back us up,
judging the future prices by past
we need have no fears, but »
growing will always be u remuner-ative
branch of industry, especially
if connected with a system-of mix-ed
husbandry.
(ii-.i.. LAWRENCE, JB,
Care ol Cattle.
Very few will dispute that If it
pays to keep live stock, tbe profits
will be iu proportion to the man
iiieut ol it: therefore any one would
suppose, on firsl thinking ol
subject, surely every stuck |
Will have the verj best attention
paid that can possibly be contrived.
ia! no. In every
herd, in every flock, there
ige which '.
in a great degree in their apitude to
tocarrj fleah and in milking pi
erties also in the Dock, the differ-ence
in the weight and quality ol
the fleece, as well as the contra*
mutton qualities, will be very gn-at.
and all these characteristics require
,i watchful ami intelligent mind to
note the cause ol every peculiai
so that weeding out or judie
conteraction may be n sorted to.
A man who excels in the lu^n*
agement of cattle has studied the
disposition and habits ol animals,
and understands ..hat kind of food
Buits then. I
theit exist
then at all seasons of the year and
undei everj circumstai •
he has no
such a kind as no human foresight*
could have prevented. Attention
to cattle will pay. at all evcits, and,
it owner and attendant ate both
skillful in tbe science of breeding,
so as to produce superiority in
shape and constitution in the de-scendants,
by the judicious matiug.
of the parents, as well as in b
ing every generation uearei perfetf
by forcing every good trait, sue
will follow to a gieater extent.—
Country Gentleman.
' I