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VOL. 1,
DUBLIN, GEORGIA, WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 28,1878.
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NO.
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WAITING,
2tfsr illTTIE HALI/.
I staiicL updn the slidte
Of the dark, cold sea of Death ;
I hear the breakers roar,
And feel their icy breath
r ■ On my cheek.
t have waited since the dawn
For the boatman, sterti and pale;
The night now comcth on,
Yet I see no welcome sail
Hither borne.
Earth-bound Fvt lingered long,
"With burdens sore oppressed,
My soul longeth to begone
To the City of the Hlbst,
O'er the sea.
He waits for me, I know,
Upon Heaven’s golden strand,
Whom I lost so long ago—
To welcome me to land
The first one.
Haste thee, haste tliee, boatman pale!
■ My heart acheth to be free,
To leave this mortal vale,
To sweep o’er this dark sea
To its rest.
He comes, he comes, at last!
My beloved, we soon shall meet!
Earth, thy sorrows all are pasfc^
From the far land music sweet
Greets my ear.
. Hark! ’tis his voiccl to me calls,
As 1 near the blissful shore;
Light supernal on me falls—
Beloved, we part no more.
Nevermore.
THE FATHER’S RETURN,
Emma G* Jones.
What a pleasant little home it was!
The family sitting-room had never
before looked so bright and attractive
las on that auturfm afternoon. A
cheerful fire blazed on the hearth
stone; the crimson cilrtuins were
Closely drawn, filling the room with
a warm, roseate light, and in the
midst of this, in her low sewing
Jihair^;jsat the young wife, a dainty
all
bit* ’of eWdroiderv in - her*. lap, at
which she worked away with deft
fingers, humming all the while a gen
tle lullaby to the littlo sleeper in the
wicker cradle at her side. On the
rug at her feet lay a little girl, her
first-born, worn oUt with play, her
curly head pillowed on a great, shag
gy ’Newfoundland) and both fast
asleep.
Richard Standish, the husband and
father, stood noiselessly on the thres
hold, contemplating this home-pic
ture with a full heart. After a few
moments he made a step into the
room. His wife looked up quickly,
her eyes brightening with pleasure.
“Oh, husband 1 is it you?” she
said; “hoW glad I am» I was so
afraid you’d be detained late. Come
in, I want ”
But something in his face silenced
her all at once, and she sat looking
up at him with tender, entreating
eyes. He spoke at iast, his voice
hoarse and unsteady.
“The ‘Albatross’ sails to-morrow
morning, Violet,” he said.
A silence fell between them, bro
ken at last by her passionate inquiry:
“But, Dick, is there no help?
Must you—must you go?”
“I must,' Violet!”
She said no more, knowing that
his opinion was inexorable. - Once
before, since their marriage, he had
gone, leaving her for a whole dreary
year, and new he -was going again
The embroidery fell from her fingers
and she sat gazing into the red coals,
while the babies slept at her feet,
thinking of the desolate hours in
store for her and them. Her hus
band watched her witli a swelling
heart. After awhile he approached
her,.and stroking her bright, rippling
hair, said tenderly;
“Poor Violet; poor little wife, you
mustn’t take it so hard.”
She made no answer, but throwing
her arms around his neck, Bobbed for
a few moments on his bosom; and
then she was ready for her work
and there was plenty to do. Cloth
Ing to overlook, socks to darn, be
sides all the packing. The whole
night long she was at it, and in the
chill, dreary dawn, pale and weary,
hut with wide, sleepless eyes, sho fol
lowed him down to the wharf. The
“Albatross,” swung at anchor,
ready for her departure.
He had kissed the babies as they
lay asleep in their littlo cot-bed, and
now lie turned to his wife.
“Good-by, Violet,” his bronzed
features working with the emotion
he struggled to keep down. “I may
as well -say it at once, as it’s got to
bo done; take care of yourself and
the babies, and don’t worry about
me; a year’ll soon slip Ivy, and then
I’ll be back again, God willing. Kiss
me, and run home like a good littlo
wife; you're shivering with tho cold
now*” . ;
She kissed him, clinging to his
bosom for a moment; and then she
hurried away. But on the top of the
hill she paused to look back. Sho
could not discern liis face or figure
in tho crowd of busy men that
thronged tho decks, yet sho gazed
through the darkness with yearning,
wistful eyes, until the moment of
departure came; and amid cheers and
shouts, and booming gunS - , tho “Al
batross” started on her long voyage,
her white sails looking like great
whlgs in the uncertain morning
light.
Then sho hurried homeward; the
babies would be waking and need
her care. But what a weary, aching
heart she carried in her bosom. All
at once the aim and interest of her
life seemed to have died out—the
-very world had'Changed. The rod
dawn-fires, just kindling in the far
oast, wore ri garish, sickly light; the
early matin of the birds sounded
harsh and discordant; and her. homo,
hitherto so pretty and attractive in
her eyes, looked forlorn and desolate.
But Violet was a brave little woman,
despite her childish face and rippling
hair; and although heart and hands
were alike aimless and nerveless, she
went resolutely to work, and after a
time she worked'J'.erSblf into a genial
hopeful hiunorl’ For these simple,
liomeiy tasks, that mako up our lifo
drudgery, are often the savings of
our souls; this ceaseless labor, from
which we flinch at times, is the one
sovereign remedy, the universal pana
cea for human ills and woes.
The glory of autumn faded, and
winter came. The snows fell white
and deep around the sailor’s little
cottage, and through tho dreary
weary nights the patient mother
worked and watched her babies.
Little Annie tho eldest horn, could
remember her father, and oVor and
over again she would ask,
“Mother when will father come
home from over the big sea?”
And the mother would answer
her blue eyes brightening at the
thought,
“When, summer-time comes, dar
ling, and the golden pipkins get ripe,
then father will come home.”
And the winter went by at last,
and spring came, bringing tho bloom
of primroses, and the odor of violets,
and the golden pipkin-tree was one
mass of fragrant blossoms. Little
Annie watched them, and led her
baby brother beneath their rustling
Almost a year had gone bjq and in
all this long, long time only one let
ter had come. Midshipman Standish
foflnd but few opportunities to send
letters; but this one. sufficed. He was
well, and the “Albatross” would soon
bo homeward bottiid—ho would be
at home in autumn.
And autumn came; the trees put
on the livery of royal purple, and the
hills their russet gold. Violet Stan
dish went about her work, from day
to day, with ah indescribable beauty
in her face. She seemed to have
grown young again; all the carcs4 blaze,
and troubles of lifo dropped off
like a mantle, leaving her clothed
in tho radiant garments of hope and
love—dlio fair, fresh, winsome girl
that Dick Standish had wooed and
won amid, the clover-bloom of her
country home five yearn before. The
littlo children wanderered about in
tho yellow sunlight, dyeing their fin
gers with berries, and peoping into
tho tiny homes of tho robins; and
one sunny morning both came rush
ing in aglow with excitement.
“Mother, mother!” cried Annie,
hor little pinafore filled with golden
fruit, “see hero! tho golden pipins
are ripe, will father come homo to
day?* ' ,
Violet’s heart gave a groat leap of
gladness. She looked out at tho blue
sky, tho floating, fleecy clouds, and
mist-crowned hills, with something
like a prophocy at her heart.
I think ho will, darling!” sho re
plied; “we will mako ready for him,
any way. Go gather all "you can.”
And the children toddled off again
tho littlo, sturdy boy looking so like
his father,' that his mother Trill after
him and covered his brown face’with
kisses. Then sho hurried hack and
fell to work* Sho cleaned tho cot
tage till a spook of dust Could ’ no
where bo found, put fresh linen on
tho beds, and fresh flowers in tho
windows—and then sho Went to cook-
Every delicacy, for which he
had ever expressed a fancy, was pre
pared; and as the sun was going down
dressed in her prettiest gown, she
sat down to wilit.
“Will father come to-night, moth
er?” asked Annie, Stealing up in the
twilight. i
“If not to-night, ho will come to
morrow, love!”
To-morrow came, the golden pipins
hung ripening on tho troe; tho grain
waved in yellow sheaves around the
cottage-door. Tho year had roundoff
why did not the wanderer come?
Tho children wandered about rest
lessly, followed by faithful old Leo;
and after noon, growing impatient
and anxious, Violet went down to
the post office. Perchance thdre
might be a letter, or some tidings
from tho “Albatross.”
A crowd of men surrounded, tho
door, evidently in, eager discussion,
but they m-^k way- JVv hcr deferen
tially. Thero was no letter, ’tind ho
tidings from tho “Albatross.” The
postmaster hesitated and looked at
her with pitying eyes—so did the by
standers. Something in their fucos
struck her.
What is it?” she questioned, look
ing from one to another.
Then, an awful fear thrilling
through her, sho snatched a paper
they had been reading. There it was
in flaming characters!
at sea! Tho‘Albatross,’
due at this port on tho nineteenth
inst, took fire on the Indian Ocean,
and every soul on hoard Was lbst!”
She tottered homeward through
tho glory of tho autumn evening,
clutching the paper in her hand.
The children met her at the gate.
“What is it,-mother?” questioned
Annie, looking up affrighted at hor
white face* “Won’t father Como
home to night?”
“No, no!” sho wailed, in answer.
“He will never come homo any more
—never any more!”
The autumn passed again, and
winter followed, With dreary nights
of storm and darkness. But Violet
Standish lived and worked, for the
shadow, tolling him of the coming Imotltor-lo.vo in her bosom was strong,
day when father would come home. ^pr3ng"'eaiflw,--with-its bounty aqd
promise, the pomp and pageantry of
another summer, and autumn again.
The golden pipkins riponed, and
Annio and hor brother gathered
them in with a nameless awe in their
young faces. Winter again, and
Christmas-eve. The snow piled in
great drifts around their littlo cot
tage; the air keen and biting; tho
stars out in countless thousands.
The mother and hor littlo ones .gath
ered in their faggots, and throw a
heavy log upon the fire; and Leo
stretched his huge length before the
Then they eat down to their
work, for work was becoming a
necessity in these latter days; and
even littlo Annie’s tiny fingers did
their part. The.sturdy little hoy,
growing more and more like his dead
father, cracked nuts, and shot-straws
at Leo, and finally grow weary,' and
betook himself to his trundle-bed.
“What’ll Kriss-Kringl© bring me
mother?” ho asked, popping up his
curly head.
His mother glanCod across at his
chubby stockings Suspended against
the wall, and hor eyes filled with
tears, Hor store of Ghristnins»gifts
was very scant, yet sho answered
pleasantly.
^‘Something nice, perhaps darling,
if you’ll go to sloop like a good boy.”
Annio worked till her bluo eyes
grow heavy; and sho followed her
brother to tho littlo bod, but not to
sleop-^'sho lay awake listening to the
voico of tho wind. It Was A terrible
night, cold and windy, and the dis-
tpht boom of tho sea was incessant;
Dev mother trimmed tho lamp, and
continued her sewing.
“Don’t work any more, mother,”
s,aid.the eiiildv “Como to bed please
—Fin so lonosonio.”
“Blit I must finish this garment
to-night, lovo. Wo shall need* moro
coal on Monday; and there’s no mon-
oy till this is paid for. Go to sleep,
there’s a darling; youbo not lonesome
with mother so near.”
bjBiit tho child still remained aWako,
her bluo eyes full of solemn inquiry.
“Mother,” sho began again, after a
pause, “how nice it is to*have a fa
tten Lizzie Green is so happy, I
think; her father takes her every
where, and guts her such nice things.
I-Wish my father'had lived. Do you
think, mother, lie knows about us up
in; heaven? Can ho see how lono-
som6 we arc?”
.Tho poor, pale-faced woman put
out hor hand as if tho child’s prattle
tortured her.
My darling, yes; he knows about
us, and secs us, I think,” she replied,
speaking with an effort. Blit go to
sloCp how, please; mother is too tired
to talk.”
Yes hiothcr; only lei; ffic tell you
wlmt I’ve been thinking. Wlnit if
the Lord should lot Kriss-Kringlo
bring father hone to«night-^Wouldu’ t
it - Tv.
"Yes, love; bift that cannot bo.
Father cannot come to ns; but wo
shall go to him hy-iind-by.”
Annie fell into silence, and the
night waned away. The stars burned,
unci the wind moaned, and tho grout
sea thiuidrcd; Violot Worked on
steadily. She Was a bravo, strong
woman, and kept her sorrow be
neath hor foot; hut it rose up strong
and fierce to-night. Old mpmories
of hor happy girlhood camo trooping
back, fond words, loving sthilcsy and
tender caresses. Her tried soul was
full to overflowing. How should sho
bear tho burden of lifo through’
another year? It is so hard, she
would faint in the indeavor, hut for
her children’s Bake. Glancing ovof
at the little couch, and tho pair of
curly heads, she resumed her needle
with fresh vigor. The hours wore
on; Christmas morn would soon ho
dawning—Christmas with its peace
on earth, and its promise df gladness
to all men, What would it bring to
her?
The winds' roso, driving the light
snow agaiiibt tho windows. Leo put
up his pears , and listened, then he
arose and trotted off to the door.
Presently he began to )vhino plain
tively.;^- - , . ..
“What is it Leo?” asked his mis
tress.
The dog earao to her side, looking
up in her face with an intelligence
that seemed almost human; then he
went back to the door, pawing and
winning. Violet put down her work
and went to tho window. As the
wind lulled, she caught the sound of
a step,, a firm, quick step crunching
the frozen siiow. The dog leaped to
tlio window, barking and whining,
and showing every manifestation of
Joy. The step caine nearer and
nearer. A wild terror filled the
lonely woman’s heart. What danger
threatened her children? She glan
ced toward the littlo bod, and there
sat Annie, in her white night-robe,
her hands clasped, her sweet spirit
ual face fairly radiant with joy.
“Oh! mother, mother!” sho cried,
“don’t you knoM r , don’t you feel it—
it is father coming home?”
A wild thrill shot tli rough the poor
wife’s heart, terror, hope, doubt all
commingled; lmr limbs tromblod, and
sho grow faintJjut As tli6 stop camp
nearer and nearer, obeying an impulse
stvohger vf.lmn her will, or her fear,
sho opened tho door. A brawny,
broad-shouldered man, in a sailer’s j
garb. One instant sho gazed on him,
and then sho Clasped him in hor
arms with' a wild oi\y*
“Oh! it is—it is my husband! Oh,
Dick! you aiV.net dead! God has
sent yon hack to mo?”
“Yes, Violot,” his hot toai’S min
ing on her cheeks, “from tho very
jaws of death lto has Soilt ihc hack
to you*,” ’
Sho held him close for a rnomont,
and then tho mothor-lovo began to
stir in her hoart. She turned and
pointed to the littlo hod. The sturdy
littlo boy was sound ulsoop; but An
nio was awaiting him with wido,
bright oyos,
“I know it), father, and I told
mother so,” as sho whispered, as sho
clasped his neck. “I know that God
would lot Kriss-Kvingle bring you
home to-night.”
And christnms Wording dawned,
bringing a renewal of the promise of
peaeo on earth to all'tho world, and
to tho sailor’s homo a joy unspeakable
and full of glory.
BILL ARP’S SUNDAY CHAT.
I'tRLING FODDER.
Of all tlio months in the year, Au
gust is tho most unsatisfactory. It
ain’t summer and it ain’t fall. If it’s
fitton for anything good, I don’t
know it unless it’s for poor folks to
pull fodder ail'd rich folks to go to
tho springs It’s wot and it’s dry.
It’s hot and damp and chilly. Tho
woods look .heavy and dull. The
com is a dingy green, and tho rag
woods which cover the whcat-fields
have gone to scod and look sickly
and. sanctified. Almost every .day
thc^ofsVsiffiWoj', ai
ing sun, and tho slbiuu, that follors
takes all the starch out of tl liian and
his boast. The curse of Adam otitis
out at every pdro all’ day and by
night-tiiqo tho dumb agor comes
along and shakes you up a few, and
next mornin’ you fool like you Imv’nt
been to bed, tho children have got
the cpizoot and it takes a dozen hand
kerchiefs a day for ’em, and every
body is cross, and tho quinine is out,
and the bread won’t rise, and tho
hogs git in tlio. garden, and every
thing goes wrong and nobody knows
who done it:
SOME INSMCl’S.
Well, the hoys have been jiiiffin’ a
littlo fodder just to see, how tho bis*
ness worked upon tlio muscles, and
they cum home salty and chaffy and
mad. One of om got stung with a
dovil’s pack-saddle and the other cut
his hand with a fodder blade, and
now they say it damages tho corn to
strip it aiid it is too high to pull, and
what they do pull will all be ruintid
boforo its cured, and if they must
pull they want Boinc buck-skin gloves
to pull in
I wonder if Harris over saw a pack-
saddle. Well, its us putty as a rain
how, just liko most all of the dovil’s
contrivances, and when yoif crowd
much attached to tho bisn
although the inquisition and the
tics av'6 dead they are kcopin
without pay By slundorin an;
and OTcrybody that gots in the devil’s
Wa ^ . ... - ■' U- V
<mOD FODDEh 0UET.E11S. , .
Well, I boliove ill foddor. Ramey .
says it is tho verybdst ruff ness in tho
world, mid thoro’s nothing hotter for
a milk COW, and I've wished a heap
of times that sOffiO Ytlnkeo would in
vent a mnclicbtt lu pull it, and tie it, .
and hang it Up ‘On the corn. It’s an
awful long and si retohy bisness. 'The
hoys experimented a little on stilts
like they used to play circus, but the’
ground was too soft. One leg would
l tin down a foot, and iu tryin to puli'
her out, they would fall around gen-;
orally rind break down all the cord
111 ten foot of ’oni. ' I wish I had
about five good hands about soyer
fed iii&li apiece just for this partik-
lor bisnesB. It’s just what some of
those tall snpiihcs was made foiy but
thoy don’t know it. There’s my
friend Harris, Of tlio Romo Courier,
would make a splendid hand; and
there’s Judgo JBleckloy and Gov.
Brown, and friend Hanks, and Bob
Paris, of the State of Dade. I’ll in- ’
vifco om over to a free puffin. I would
liko to seo which ope could strptch
tho highest in my bottom corn, ani
watch om jump when a pack saddlb
struck eni, Well, it’s an honest bis-'
noss, though aggravatm at times,
uqd I expeet most everybody has
done' tilings of more doubtful pro
priety. .
ZEIl VANCE.
used to pull a heap of fodder wlied
ho was lootioneoring, and it paid;
and I thouglit may bo a candidate
would come along soon and help us
out. No ono-arnicd man need apply
for he couldn’t earn his rations; hut
may bo we’ll find use for him riftdr
radicals don’t vote for Luster, for
you seo lie couldn’t hurt Conklin or
anybody else very had in a fight. If
lie didn’t have nary arm 1 kiiow thoy
would go fdfliini, aiidl’vo frequently
thought what a mild, poacoablo body
congress would bo if their arms wore
off. But may bo not, for,the devil will
git into a man so'metimos, arms or no
arms, and I reckon they would go to
hunchin and buttiu around and paw
dirt liko the bulls of Bashan. Don’t
you? Yours, Bill Arps
Wlieii we ldolc lit tho magnitude
and variety df the ovils of this |g&
wo find it hard to point to dh'e so.,
terribly disastrous in its Merits its tlio
spread of indecent und i min oral HI;*
erature; Wo lulvri laws fdr tlio Blip*
prossion of obscene publications, but
there are no laws to prevent.tho \Vido
circulation df that class df literature
which is eagorly sought after by tho
youth df .both sexes, and is known to
be both deadly and dcstUctivc in its
tendency and calculated to inflict
irreparable injury On. tlio minds and.
morals of all tlff/se who indulge in its
perusal. This litorature comes in the
innocent guise of “story papers,”
and is as attractive us wiho, and a
thoujri|i(4; r titfips more . dangerous.
ijJotteOet a whisky-jug before your
one of cm on a foddcrblado you’d y-on or daughter, than supply them
think that forty yalldr jackets had with tho weekly trash which all tlio
stung you rill in a bUitcb and with
malice aforethought. And thoro’s
tho detiPs rued horse which lilies
around about this time and, UncJo
Isamsays, chaws tohakker like a gen
tleman and if bespits in your eyes
youd go blind ip half a socond. And
one day lie showed mo tlio dovil’s
darning needle which winds up the
’old feller’s stockins, and tho devil’s
snuff box which explodes when you
mash it and one ounce of the stuff
inside will kill a sound mulo boforc
he can lay down. Then there’s some
flowers that ho wears in his button
hole called the devils shoe string and
and the devil in tho bush, but liis
chief instruments on this mundane
sphere arc called tho devil’s Advo
cates. Accordin to the books they
used to be officers of the Spanish in
quisition who wero hired to go about
and slander heretics. They got so
groat cities send forth to do its poison
ous work.
Kearney, tlio drayman, hauls in
liis figures of speech by the cart-load.
The whole celestial system is tribu
tary to his rhetoric.
m
The platform of tlio national par
ty can bo condonsod into ono plank:
“Wanted, some money, without
Corning it.”
Tlio same backache which makes a
boy howl when he’s digging potatoes
wreathes liis face in smiles when he
slips off the hack way to tho picnic
Boys are enriqus insects.— Bridge
port .Standard.
Something to wear means this year
(at Saratoga) three new dresses a day
with hats to match, and nineteen
costly parasols*