The Dublin post. (Dublin, Ga.) 1878-1894, August 28, 1878, Image 1

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.WvaWi - 'rf <4^. .? (*>«»$ |gg . ■ : ■■ ■ 4 r -i Umm = VOL. 1, DUBLIN, GEORGIA, WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 28,1878. m? NO. ■ 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*