The day book. [volume] (Norfolk, Va.) 1857-1867, 1860-01-12

ton, Corn, Dried Apples, etc., from the Old
North State, has presented such gloomy
and fororn appearance for some months
back, that we were induced to step in and
see to what use it had degeuer ated.-
One side of the immense building is occupied
by Mr.. Brown, who runs line of packets
from here to Portsmouth,; while the other
side is used as Rigging Lott" that is if
rigging 'loft" can be said to exist on the
ground floor.
The lot presents clean, neat appearance,
and the city property is no doubt in good
hands.
DISTRACTIONS ON THE SIDE WALK.-The
side walk from Graves Ship Yard to Hig.
gins Warehouse, is SO obstructed that it is
impossible to get along. Here is a huge
pile of oyster shells, and there an immense
pile of wood, &c. These things should not
be; the side walks ON that side of the river
should be paved, and the loading or unload
ing of lighters confined to the wharves.-
The present condition of things presents an
the steamers, and those whose duty it is,
should look to the matter Immediately.
GREAT REDUCTION.
N. YOBK LEDGER ONLY FOUR CENTS,
Do HERALD do do do
And all the Weekly Papers Only FOUR cts.
AT DAY BOOK BUILDING.
ETE o-Snmatio1ns parhaps our raa5ar,
have noticed the letters "tf'' bringing up the
rear Of an advertisement. Probably they
have never thought much of them, but re-
garded them as sort of cabalistic literature
peculiar to the press, and certainly not fit
theme for song or sermon. However this
may be, there is significance in those let
tiers far beyond the range of types, and on
into shadows, and out into that mosaic work
we call life.
To the uninitiated it is simpy "tf"-to the
printers eye it expands into "till forbid" a
reminder that the advertisement it waits on
is to be continued from day to day, from
week to week, till ordered out by him who
directed its publication. The story of how
many Springs that have brought the blue
bird and violet has been told in that eff"
Wrought in the green tracery of leaves that
rise and fall on the bosom of the air-painted
on clouds at anchor in the Summer sea-
carved on the stone thresholds of ever going
hoods-silvered on the moons medallion-
graved on the round ruby of the morning
sun-in the scroll of storm it is woven-on
the breath of song it is broidered-snd "tf,"
till forbid, is the story of the world.
''Tf'' is written alike on the drop of dew
that satellite of the sod-and on the great
world that dances in the breath and bright
ems in the smile of God. "Tf' rounds the
summer of human hopes; it is delicately
traced on beauty's brow; you will find it in
the roses blushing bud; you may see it in
the shining star.
Nature has no stereotypss-all her adver
tisements are published with "tf," and the
types that express loveliness are silently
distributed" and the graves are filled with
the eloquence of yesterday. And even there
enamelled in the little pillows of turf that
break up earth's green sward like sea,
there is "till forbid" and so the silent swell
of the sod subsidies where graves have been,
and back to the air, and up to the clouds,
and away in gladness goes the dust to be
fashioned into new expressions of truth and
beauty.
But there is a dwelling place, upon whose
gates, con golden hinges turning," no "till
Forbid was ever traced, and to all truth and
earnest thought bright hands are reckoning,
and the line moves on.
GREAT REDUCTION.