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VOLUME 1.1 THE EASTMAN TIMES, IS PUBLISHED WEEKLY AT Eastman, Dodge Cos., Ga., BY Tt . S . IS IT II T oN . Terms—One year, $2 00 ; Six months, SI.OO. All subscriptions required in advance, invariably. Advertising Kittes. Sqrs IM.| 3M. |G M. 12 M. j j 1 ... $4 00 js7 00 |slo 00 sls 00 2 . . 625 12 00 | 18 00 25 00 4 9 75 19 90 ‘Mi 00 39 00 i . 11 50 22 50 34 00 40 00 * 20 00 32 59 55 00 80 00 1 col. 35 00 GO 00 80 00 130 00 All bills for advertising are due on the first appearance of advertisement, or when pre sented, except when otherwise contracted for. Parties handing in advertisements will please state the required time for publication, other wise they will be inserted till forbid and charged for accordingly. Transient advertisements unaccompanied by the money will receive no attention. Advertisements or Communications, to se cure an insertion the same v’eek, should be handed in on Wednesday morning. All letters should be adddressed to . lb S. BURTON, Publisher. Selected Poetry. The Forty-Acre Farm. I’m tliinkin’ wife, of neighbor Jones, that man of stalwart arm— Ho lives in peace and plenty, on a forty-acre farm; While men are all around us, with hands and hearts asore, Who own two hundred acres and still are want ing more. Ilis is a pretty little farm, a pretty little house ; He has a loving little wife, as quiet as a mouse; lbs children play around the door, their fath er’s life to charm, Looking as u at and tidy as the tidy little farm. No weeds are in the corn-fields, no thistles in the oats ; The horses show good keeping by their fine and glossy coats ; The cows within the meadow, resting ’neatli the beeehen shade, Learn all their gentle manners of the gentle milking maid. Witliin the fields, on Saturday, he leaves no cradled grain, To be gathered on the morrow for fear of com ing rain ; He keeps the Sabbath holy, his children learn his ways, And plenty fills his barn and bin after the har vest days. He never has a lawsuit to take him to the town, For the very simple reason there are no line fences down; r. * The bar-room in the village does not have for him a charm, I can always find my neighbor on his forty-aihe farm. Ilis acres are so very few he plows them very deep ; Tis his own hands that turns the sod, ’tis his own hands that reap ; He has a place for everything, and things are in their place; The sunshine smiles upon his fields, content upon bis f ice. May we not learn a lesson, wife, from prudent neighbor Jones, And not, for what we haven’t got, give vent to sighs and moans ? The rich aren’t always happy, or free from life’s alarms, Rut blest are they who live content, though small mav be their farms. BARBIE’S MISTAKE. BY IDA ROLAND. The creepers at the west window framed a pretty picture that night, and the sun just then flinging its part ing glory upon it, brightened it still more. Pretty Barbie Allen, humming softly to herself a little tune, polished the tea things carefully and set them on the dresser. A dainty little body was Barbie ; no wonder the sun ling ered a little longer to brighten the scene. It could not have looked in on a lovelier picture. One could easily have guessed that her thoughts were pleasant ones from the light in her violet eyes, and tiic spring toiler step. But a voice from the porch dispelled these thoughts. ‘Lands sakes ! Barbie, it takes an awful time for you to wipe up them few dishes. Just you hurry up your cakes, and come and help me pick currants. It’s high time that jelly was being made, if its ever going to be.’ Then a calico sun-bonnet passed un der the window, and over toward the currant bushes. The happy light faded from the girl’s eyes, and the quick tears came. ‘Dear ! it’s nothing but hurry all Ike time. I hate to pick currants, and " kat will Robert say ? I promised to te at the old gate after sunset.,’ she sobbed under her breath. To disobey the wish of her step mother was not for a moment to be thought about, bo the happy dream was put aside?, and donning her wide hat she went to the bushes, giving one wistful glance toward the old pear tree that guarded the orchard gate. Barbara Allen’s life bad not been a very happy one. She lost her mother while very young, and ever since she could remember a step-mother had ruled her life, who was incapable of ever understanding a nature like hers. Matter-of-fact and common-place she certainly was herself, but she could never nuiko Barbie like her. No open warfare ever came between these two; but way down in Barbie’s heart there was an utter loathing for all that should have been homo to her, and a determination to some day leave these distasteful scenes and see a little of the great world outside their narrow sphere, the world she had thought and dreamed so much about It had seemed this year as if her wishes were to be gratified. Ever since Robert Talford had come to their little village to spend the summer, there had been a bright spot in her life. lie came the summer before the first time, and when this June brought him back again, she felt that she had something for which to live. / She never questioned her right to love him and be loved. She never tried to analyze her own feelings and learn how deeply she was attached to this gay, handsome youth, who made love so royally and spent money so lavishly. She only felt that anew world opened before her, something beyond the old life ol drudgery, and was happy. Long alter the appointed time Unit night a slender figure stole through the moonlight toward the old gate. Would he wait for her ? Yes h< was there and welcomed her with fond kisses and tender reproaches for her tardiness. ; I could not help it Robert. 67ie kept me.’ ‘Boor little Barbie, you have a hard life here ?’ he questioned. ‘Ah ! you do not know how hard. llow shall I endure it when the sum mer is over and you are gone ? ‘Did you think I would leave you here? That is what I wanted to say to-night. I must go back next week, and you must go as my wife. Nay you must not hesitate. 1 want you Barbie. Come.’ What girl with a heart full of love for the handsome face before her ami disgust for the life behind could have denied him ? ‘Your parents and brother Robert, you told me they were wealthy and proud, what will they say to your country bride ? The youth’s face darkened. ‘My mother will do anything for me,’ he said ‘and Guy,’—the eyes flashed — ‘Guy always opposes me, but he shall not dare influence them in this, lie is a surly fellow, Barbie, and always stands in my way, but if father and mother only see you first it will all be right. Never miud them girlie; 1 love you. Will you come ? ‘Anywhere with you, Robert ; only let it be away from here.’ Four weeks later Barbie Talford stood at the window of her room in a fashionable hotel waiting her hus band’s return. Itsecmed much longer to her since she bade good-bye to the old farm-house that moonlight night and married Robert Talford. These four weeks had been spent by the young couple in travelling amid scenery so new and beatiful to Bar bie’s eyes, who had never seen any thing before but her native hills, that it seemed like entering anew world. Jt had been several hours since he left her, and she was beginning to feel uneasy, for she well knew where lie had gone. He had pointed out liis father’s house to her that morning as they were riding, a beautiful brown-stone mansion, with its elegant surround ings, that told of wealth and taste. He ha<l left a note of explanation for his father, and this afternoon he had gone to prepare them to receive her. He had left her in the best of splits, but as the hours crept by and he did not return, she felt a strange forcbod- EASTM AN, DODGE COUNTY, <* V., WEDNESDAY, APRIL 187 3. iug. \\ hat if 11 1 is Guy, of whom her husband bad so often spoken, should influence them to turn Robert away because he had married her. She hardly dared let the thought enter her mind, but still it would come, in spite of her efforts to be cheerful. In this short time she had learned that the character of the man she had married, lacked the stamina that he would have to possess to begin life unaided by their wealth and influence. Ilis whole future would depend up on the manner in which they would receive him. No wonder she was anxious and depressed. She listened as every footfall sounded outside her door, thinking each fresh one must surely be his. At last the door open ed. One glance at his face told that ail had gone wrong. Never had she seen him so angry, she dared not even speak to him ; but sat trembling and frightened in her chair, watching him as lie paced the floor with heavy steps, liis face dark with hatred and his hands clinched. At last he seemed a little calmer, and approaching her threw a note in her lap, bidding her read it. It was written in a clear, firm hand, and contained but a few 7 words, but she read it again and again, as if she did not understand its mean ing. ‘Robert.— Such conduct as yours will admit of no excuse. It is not only heartless but disgraceful. My father desires that from the mom nt you re ceive tins you will cease to consider yourseli a member of the family. Guy.’ ‘\\ liat docs lie moan, Robert ? is ic because you have married me ? is that the conduct that is not only heart less but disgraceful V She looked at him so earnestly, with her clear eyes, that for a moment lie sank before them. Then he said with a bitter laugh. ‘Of’ course it is. What else have I done to offend his royal highness. A very good excuse to get me out of die family, selfish brute.’ Then followed such a tirade ul abuse, that Barbie shrank back with terror ; indignant as she bad been a moment before. ‘Don’t curse him, Robert, remember he is your brother.’ ‘Yes, and that he has turned me away 7 from my father’s house like a dog,’ said he savagely. ‘Let me go to him Robert. Surely he cannot be so hard hearted as you think. Remaps if I could see your father he would feel differently.’ He looked at her strangely for a moment then shook Ins head. ‘I know them better than you Barbie. They will never change their decis on.’ ‘What are we going to do?’ said he, turning to her as if she were the stronger, and indeed she was. ‘Do? llow can you ask when we have all our life before us. Work, win a name and a fortune that will equal if not outshine, your brother’s.’ Her face shone with enthusiasm as she spoke. liis face lighted up for a moment, as ii lie too ielt a little of her energy and courage. Then it died down, and the old weak look came about the mouth, Barbie seeing it looked ahead into that great future that was staring them in the face, and sighed. Was it going to be as bright as she had hoped. A little figure in black, with a sad face and mournful eyes, sat with a little child in her arms in a third-story room, in a city boarding house, rock ing back and forth and singing to the child, a beautiful little girl two years old, in a voice that had in it a sound of tears. A tap at the door and the landlady entered, and after asking a few questions said, I am very sorry for you, of course, Mrs. Ford, but you cannot expect me to do any more than 1 have already done. What did they say about the last situation?’ ‘They could not employ me on ac count of little Dot,’ said she claspi ig the child closer in her arms Must what I told you, yesterday. \ou will never be able to do anything as long as you cling to that child. Better give her away. I know plenty oi rich ladies who would gladly adopt such a pretty baby/ ‘Mrs, Brown,’ said the little woman, her voice trembling, yet earnest, ‘it is useless to talk of that. Give away my baby ; the only thing T have in the world to love? Oh! little Dot, little Dot, we’ll starve together first,’ said she, sobbing over the sleeping child. ‘Well, well ! I did not mean to make you feel bad—only I thought it would be better for you both. I heard of an other situation this morning—but like as not they would have the same ob jection. It’vtliat of housekeeper to a rich family the other end of the city 7 .’ •I can keen house better than any thing else.V '*! she, eagerly. ‘Where is if? May re t hev wouldn’t mind little Dot/* ‘lt’s over to Talford’s. The young man and his mother keep house. The old gentleman died a few months ago. They had some sort of troubles. The rich have their troubles as well as the poor sometimes. I think this was a wild Lon, that got shot away from home. I guess the news is what killed the old man. I’d go and try anyway, if I were in your place. I’m sure they needn’t mind the baby, blessed lamb,’ said she, stopping to give it a kiss, and hurrying away, not noticing that the mother’s face was as white as dpath. The door closed, ank Barbie T-liford laid little Dot on the bed, and kneeling beside it, prayed that they both might die. Three years had passed since l Robv rt Talford had been disowned by his fath er, and commenced his downward ca reer. Three years over wliYh Barbie could not look without a shudder. Re proaches were* vain now, for she was a widow ; and grief had softened her heart toward the one who wrecked her happiness. lie had tried tb do better; but it was the old, old story of ‘climb ing and falling back to sin.’ He was so weak, and soon became reckless. One night a bullet from the hand of a drunken companion ended liis career. So Ray l 1 if i!> ,u • assumed name, with nothing left but her child and her own brave heart. It had been a year since then, and it seemed to Barbie as i! it was a hard world to live in. She wan willing to work, God knows; but so little fitted to battle with a world of which till now she had known so little. Then little Dot seemed to have no place, and she could not give her up. After she got calmer she sat thinking over what her landlady had told her, and almost resolved to try and obtain the .situa tion, much as she shrank from so doing. It seemed at times as if she could not ask a favor of Guy Talford, or eat a mouthful in lyis house. She blamed him for all of Robert’s wrong-doing.— Then it seemed as if it was the last chance offered her, and she must try for little Dot’s sake; and she resolved she would. The next day she took unusual pains with her toilet and little Dot’s, and found her way to the Tal ford mansion, for she remembered it well ; and she was ushered, with a fast-beating heart, into the presence of its mistress. It was in her own pri vate sitting-room that Mrs Talford sat; for she was an invalid and seldom left her own apartments. She was a stately-lookiug woman; but though haughty, looked sorrowful ; and her hair was perfectly white. Her son was with her; and as soon as Barbie could command her eyes, she looked at him, and was startled to find how much he resembled Robert. Taller, more dignified, his clear, blue eyes a little colder in their light, and his mouth a little firmer. A handsome man everybody said, but so haughty. Meanwhile as Mrs. Talford talked with Barbie, he looked at her in such a manner that made her feel as if he could read her secret and would de nounce her on the spot as the destroy er of their happiness. Little Dot, all unconscious of her mother’s emotion, was perfectly delighted with the pret ty room, and sai on the bright carpet trying to pick the pretty flowers scat tered over it. 1 lie talx lasted some time and ended in her being engaged on trial. The child was no objection Mrs. Talford 'U-id. the house was large, and she could keep her in her own apartment. It she could stay now they would send attcr her trunk And ringing for a *trvant to show her to her rooms, Mrs Talforcl dismissed Iter, saving* to Iter son as the door closed: ‘You think me foolish I know to take | a stranger in, hut site was so charin | ing in her widow’s dress that I could j not help it. I am not usually taken : with a pretty face and manner ; hut something in Mrs. Ford’s maimer ap peals to one’s sympathy. I hope I shall not be disappointed in her.’ ‘I hope not,’ said Guy, rising to go. ‘But I am afraid you will regret it some day, mother/ ‘Why V ‘Never mind now. Try her. She may be all you think Tier/ And he walked away to his library. In her room, which was more spa cious and comfortable than an}’- sue ever had occupied before, Barbie mused over the events of the day, hall' regretting, yet thankful’that fortune had favored her. Regretting that she must stay there and deceive them.— Thankful that at last she had a haven of rest. The days and weeks passed, and Barbie learning her new duties dis charged them faithfully, earnestly striving to win their approbation, which she seemed to succeed in doing. Mrs. Talford found that her house and servants were as well managed as when she held the reins of government herself; and rejoiced over the treasure she possessed. Always quiet and un obtrusive, she won many friends in the house ; but still held them at such a distance that none dared ask about her past life, except the few questions proposed by Mrs. Talford the first day she arrived. As for little Dot, she was 1 ke sunshine in the stately old house. Even Guy adm tted her into his libra ry, ami carried her about in his arms. Barbie herself shunned him, trying j also to keep Dot out of his way ; yet ! when she was obliged to be in his pres ence, she studied him carefully, trying to discern the traits in hi > character she had heard Robert speak about.— Cruel and selfish she felt him to he, and set herself to work to prove it ; but as yet she was forced to acknowl edge she had failed, lie was thought ful and tender of his mother, kind to the servants and polite to her, still she could not trust him. She never forgot tie words oi the note that alienated Robert from his family. Why was Ins conduct heartless and disgraceful ? They knew he had married a good girl, ! what if she had been reared in tin j country, was that a disgrace? No, I she could not forgive him. and ( 'cl j sometimes when she looked at him • hat he was her husband's murderer, lie might have been so different.— Time had softened the dead man’sl faults till he seemed in her eyes a mar tyr. Som- times she thought she could not remain another day under Guy’s roof. What if he should discover her secret. How they would despise her lor deceiving them so. His mother sh 1 had learned to love. She remembered that Robert told her once that she would do anything for him ; and she longed to cling to and love the stately, sorrowful woman who nursed her grief so silently. Robert’s name was never mentioned in the house ; but in lus mother’s sitting-room his picture hung covered by a silken veil. She discov ered her before it one day in tears, and longed to tell her then and there who she was. Then she thought of the great world outside, into which she would be thrust, and where there seemed to be no place for her and little Dot, and was silent. Barbie usually presided at the table, as Mrs. Talford preferred to have her meals sent up to her, and did it,so gracefully and easily, that it was with pardonable pride that Guy presented her to his guests as “my housekeeper, Mrs. Ford.” Their guests were not many, how ever, and many were the meals when they two were alone. He seemed to be studying her as well, and some times drew her into conversation, when she was at first determined to talk only commonplace. At the (>nd of sbi months she had to acknowledge that she had discovered nothing in his character that would warrant hei opinion of him. She said to herself, “lie is generous, gentleman ly and fascinating” The last said [NUMB 1 2R 11 with her flushed cheeks h.d in Dot’s curls. Still sAw was not Satisfied.— After that, there was anew inmate in j ttie house. A cousin of Guy's. A | reckless, dashing young man, tolerated ! >nly because of his relation and good humor. He stared with astonishment as Guy introduced him to Barbie, and to her disgust, tried to make himself particularly agreeable. He nsk*d Guy all about her, but gained but little in formation, as he ovid ally did not wish to enlighten him. He next .tried to quiz Barbie herself, but was repulsed with so much dignity, that he vowed to Guy the next day, thad site process ed enough dignity to be mistress of the house. ‘And so she is, in my mother’s ab sence. We will not discuss Mis. Ford, if you please/ This reply made the young gentle man rather provoked, and he made up his mind to bring his stately cousin off of his ‘high horse’ as he called it. So, the next day at dinner he said during a pause in the conversation, ‘By tin* way, Guy, I saw she that was Lillie Stone, the other day. She looks a little happier than when I last saw her. I used to think she would never get over the way your brother Robert oisappointed her. Rather mean in Bob to go and marry that litlh* coun try g’irl when ho was engaged to Lillie, and the wedding d:i\ appointed.— Never discovered it, did they, till the guests were all assembled to witness the ceremony? Bob was a queer chap. I believe uncle never forgave him that last scrape/ So coolly was this speech delivered that Guy seemed to bo struck dumb, and could only sit and gaze at him, with a look that would have m ale him piuil, if he had not been so brazen. Bet >re lie answered hi n he turned nd gave one look at his housekeeper, oid met her (‘ves fixed upon him, with a lo >lwot mingled astonishment, en treaty, and despair. In it he read hw much ? She felt That. it was everything, and rose to her I et with a taint ‘excuse me,’and tried io leave the room ; Rut would have fallen, she was so weak, if lie had not come to her assistance. He led her teross the hall into the library, and 'lacing her in an arm chair, bade her •oinain until he returned. She dared .1 <f d’sobev, but crouched there sob bing under her breath, ‘Oh, how I have misjudged him 1 What will lie sav?” Site never knew what he said to his ■ous n. He came buck soon, and tuni ng the key in the door, stood before i t with folded arms, as if wadii g for m explanation. She stretched out her 1 oids to him like some chidden child, md said, brokenly, “I know you despise me, I have de ceived you so. 1 have misiu ig< and you •i >. But ii you only knew a 7.” He took the little hands gently in his own “Boor child, I do know. Do you hink I have blamed you. You did not ■ce v • mi', 1 knew y.m from the first. Fv ui il 1 had not found your picture among R >berfs things, 1 should have known his child among a thousand.— 1 know you have thought me cruel to write the note I <1 and to him ; but you little know how IK3 tried us. What you heard to-dav, may g ve you some idea. lam glad to make you c a age your mind concerning me; but sorry to have you know the deceit Robert practiced. He was your husband.” He drew himself away as lie spoke, and looked at the tearful face before him with a searching look. “Boor Robert,” she sobbed. He turned a little paler, and said, “A ou must consider me your brother now, and this house* your home. I feel that when mother knows all, she will be much happier.” She rose to go then, and giving him her hand, said, ‘You have been so kind to little Dot and me ; Hut we will not stay if you do not wish it ; perhaps wo had better go/ The clasp on her hand tightened till it was almost painful to bear, and he said, “Child, do you think I can spare you ? Oh, Barbara, if you would only try halt as hard to love me, as you have to dislike me, I might h pe that, the past would be forgotten—and you would stay here as my wife.” He did not try to take her in his arms as bespoke, but rather held her aloof, gazing at her with his great love shining in his eyes. Not until she let her own answi r them did lie take her t> Ins heart and murmur, “J/y Barbie, my httle wife.” Then Barbie knew that the terrible mistake of her life was blotted out with this more perfect love ; and that henceforth, her lines would be cast in jpla*siiiit places.