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h *• - I u YOL. 1. DUBLIN, GEORGIA, WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 9, 1878. DE PROFUNDIS. Jfvbilc lieffMcr. We lay before our readers a rare treat to-day—a rich, weird strain, fresh from the poet’s pen—a sad re fmin from a master liaud, ‘which sweeps along, i of the heart.” The poet priest sings the best songs of sorrow—he interprets best the hearts of the people “in their woe.” When the “Conquered Banner” was furled in glory, lie embalmed it in a song which will keep fresh its im mortelles. And now when the pes tilence comes, and spreads ovor us its raven wings, from the dark shad ows lie chants a lamentation which points us all to prayer. Bn t he wants * * “No name no other fame Than this—a Priest of God.” DE PROFUNDIS. BY FATHER 11YAN Alii Days so dark with Death’s Eclipse! Woe are we! woe are wet And the Nights are Ages long— From breaking hearts, through pallid lips . Oh, my God I woe are we! Trembleth the mourners’ song— A blight is falling on the fair And hope is dying in dispnir— And terror wnlkclh everywhere. All the hours are full of Tears— Oh, my God! woe arc we! Grief keeps watch in brightest eyes— Every heart is strung with fears Woe are we! woe are we! Ali the light lmtli left the skies, And the living awe struck crowds See above them only clouds Ami around them only shrouds. Ah! the terrible Farewells! Woe arc they! woe arc they! When last words sink into moans Willie life’s trembling vesper belk Oil, my God! woe are we! Ring the awful undertones! Not a sun in any day! Antl the dying pass away. Dark! so dark! above—below— Ob, iny God! woe are we! C’owcrcth every human life— *»Wild the wailing—to and fro— Woe are all! woe are we! Dentil is victor in the strife— In the hut and in (lib hall He if writing on the wall Dooms for many—fears for all. Thro’ the cities burn a breath, Woe are they! woe are we! Hot with dread and deadly wrath, Life and love lock arms in dentil, Woe are they! woe are all! Victims strew the Spectre’s path; Shy-eyed children softly creep ' Where their mothers wail and weep, In the grave their fathers sleep. Mothers waft their prayers on high— Oh, my God! woe arc we! With their dead child on their breast, And the Altars ask the sky— Oh, my Christ ! woe are wc! “Giye the dead, oh Father, rest! Spare the people! Mercy! spare!” Answer will not come to prayer— Horror movetli everywhere. And the Temple miss the Priest- Oil, my God! woe are we! And the cradle mourns the child. Husband! at your bridal feast Woe are youi woe are you! Think how those poor dead eyes smiled; They will never smile again— » Every tic is cut in twain, All the strength‘of love is vain. Weep? but tears are as weak as foam— Woe are wc! woe are we! They but break upon the shore Winding between Here and Home- Woe are ye! woe are wc! Whiling •never—nevermore! Ah, the dead! they arc so lone, Just the grave, and just a stone, And the. memory of a moan. ■Kray? yes, pray; for God is sweet— Oh, my God! woe are we! Tears will trickle into prayers When we kneel down at Ills feet— Woe are we! woe are we! With our crosses and our cares, He will calm the tortured breast, He will give the troubled rest— And the dead He watcheth best. WAD DELPHINE A HEART? By Lillian Louise Gilbert vC'HAPTER 11L The weeks passed at the Branch, as all the weeks had passed before, nnd no alteration came in Delphino, •save that one missed the glittering diamond which had always spavklcd on her first finger. If anything, she was more self-possessed and haughty than ever; and yet so brilliant, that no one opposed her right to be queen of the set. In time people ceased to gossip about her; and Laiirence Garthwaito passed almost out of recollection. Ono afternoon during a fierce storm, just before night-fall, Dcl- pliiue went to the shore alone. How long she walked she could not tell. Suddenly sho folt a slight touch, and a voice said, “It is too late for mad emoiselle to be alone on the beach— may I offer my arm?” ‘Ah! Monsieur Drusillon, is it you? Thank' you, I will accept your escort. I seo it is quite dark. But you know, to a lover of a storm like this, time and surrounings arc noth ing. If you please, wo null go back to the hotel.” They walked on in silence, and Delpliine felt that sho was drenched, and was provoked to find sho had been so absorbed. All at once her companion asked, ‘‘Mademoiselle La Roche, will you marry me?” “No, Monsieur Drusillon, I shall never marry.” “Never is a long word, mademoi selle.” “I have weighed it.” “Then did you love Lau ” “Monsieur, we are at home. I will go in. Good-night.” Margaret catchingaglimpso of her passing through the corridor, sprang to the door. “Oh Delphino! I have been so anxious about you. Where have you been? You are as wet as you. can be.” ‘I have been the answer. “Not alone?” “No, with Monsieur Drusillon.” “I was afraid something had hap pened to you, you were so long away. W as it lie, or the ocean?” It was the ocean; and you need never be afraid anything will happen tome. lam destined to live—soniC' times, I think, forever;” and with u iglit laugh she passed on. Chapter I V. on the beach,” was who stood by Harold’s side, she touched him; and they both saw that Delphino was startled out put of her usual self-possession, and that she trembled visibly ns she strovo to gain the door. Next da)*, when Margaret called to learn tho causo of her friend emotion, the house was closod; and all sho could hear .was that Mr. and Mrs. La Roclic had left town for some time, and that Mr. La Roche Imd said ho would write when they decided about returning. Tho ser vants did not know where thoy lnvd gone. Had it been any ono else the sud den departure would have excited unending comment; but Delphino had always done as she chose. Even as it was, society was for ono night convulsed with curiosity. Only Mar garet felt hurt at Dolphino’s silence but slio boro it patiently, for she be lieved some time it would bo explain ed. Chapter V. A sultry south wind just ruffled the turbid Mississippi, and the moon light revealed a lady and gentleman pacing the deck of a steamer that had passed tho quarantine, and was within sight of Now Orleans. In tho distance sparkled the lights of the city, which othorwisc seemed to lie dead—for the pestilence was rag ing at its heart. No sound was hoard savo the rip pic of the water, and tho .steady foot falls of the paisongors on dock. The lady broke the silence with, “How soon can wc lund?” ' “Probably in an hour,” was tli answer; “though I think it would be better to stay on board to-higlit, and go to the hotel in the morning.” “Oil, no! Lot us go to-night. 1 cannot waste a, moment after wo get nulwtun The season was over, and they wont back to tho city to begin a new round of gayety. Through the full and winter Delpliine reigned su preme. Rumors wore current that Laur ence Garthwaito and his wife lived unhappily together; again, that they had separated; and, finally, that she had died in Paris. One evening, late in spring, as Delphino was standing on the balco ny to cool herself after a waltz, she heard a few words that changed the whole current of her life. Two gentlemen, from whom she was concealed by the curtains, were talking inside the window. The first said, “Did you know Garth- waite? You remember, lie married his wife rather hastily, though I guess he repented at leisure. By- thc-way, I believe lias since died.” “Yes, I knew him.” “I had a letter to-day from New Orleans, which mentioned that Garthwaito was there in tho hospital very sick with yellow fever, and not a friend to take care of him. Chances are ten to one, I fancy, that lie’ll never see Now .York again.” “Hope not. I quite liked him.” “So did I. Trust he’ll weather it; but I confess I shouldn’t like a> be in his shoes, or, rather, in his bed, for I suppose that would hit his pre sent position more nearly.” Tho speakers moved away. Delpliine almost fainted. A gust of wind, blowing straight up from the sea, revived her. Tho thought, “Dying alone; no one with him who cares for him. Only strangers to watch by him. Oh, no, no! It shall not be so.” .She hastily crossed tho crowded rooms, and slipping her hand through her father’s arm, begged to be taken home. As they passed Margaret, ashore.' -y, •*, f. »So much entreaty in the tones and two tearful eyes, won consent An hour after they were at tho »St Charles. On a bed, is one of tho fever wards of the Charity Hospital, lay a patient. Long illness had wasted him almost to a skeleton. The crisis had passed; but lie was still delirious, From sound sleep lie would break in to the wildest ravings; ever calling on some ono to forgive him, till, in his extreme excitement, he would fall hack exhausted, and rallying only to go over and ovor to the same scene. “Delphino! Delphino!” lie cried. A voice answered, “I am hero, Laurence;” and two soft, firm arms hold him back on liis pillow. The eyes closed, and soon the reg ular breathing showed that lie slept. “The first good sleep lie lias had in a week, poor fellow!” said the doc tor. Hour after hour lie slept, and hour after hour Delpliine watched. At last, just when tho long shudows athwart the Avail Avore deepening into twilight, the sick man stirred un easily, and opened his eves. In them shone the calm light of sanity, though they blazed again' as he shrieked, “Delphino! Delphino! urc you vision?” “No, Laurence,” sho replied. “I have come to take care of you.” “To take care of me, Delphino?” “Yes.” “Oh, my darling! for I shall call you so, Avhy did you come? I have too little merited this from you. I tlireAV you away because I Avas stung by the taunts of selfish Avomen.” “Ilush Laurence. There avus fault on both sides; but you must not talk iioav. Wc can speak of the past Avhen you are stronger.” Ah, Delphino! Avhat use for me to got stronger? I ha\ r e nothing to live for.” “LiA’e for me,” whispered Del- phinc, and hid her face in tho pil low. 1 The weeks AA*ont by, and Laurence GiirthAvaito grevr in health under the. tender nursing of Delphino and her father; though Monsieur La Roche of ten. said he was shamefully neglec ted. Ono morning GartliAvaito asked, “Delphino Iioav lmppond you to for- givo me?” “Because I loved you dear.” “Even after I loft you ?” “Oh, Laurence! Hoav littlo you knoAva Av*oman’s heart 1 ItAA’ns feeling you could do without me, showed mo that I couldn’t do Avithont you.” “I Avonder it did not break your heart sAA'eet!” “You gave it a sovoio bloAv, my dear boy;” “And still you oan forgh'G mo, and 1oa*o me?” “Yes, perhaps, had you boon per fectly happy with ” a kiss sealed her lip oro sho could utter tho namo, I should have been strong and proud enough to have oast you out of my heart. But when I heard of your trials—and I felt from tho first you Avould bo Avrotehod—and at last of your Bickncss, Avhat could I do but como to you, dearest?” “My darling, avo should bo grate ful to her . avIio separated us, for through her means avo have boon united more closoly than avo might linvo been otlionviso.” In tender pcaco Delpliino’s head lay on tho heart \vhich Avas to pilloAV it forevermore. Chapter Y I. BILL ARP’S SUNDAY CHAT. The Hardships of a Farmer's Life—The House of Dominion- One Thing a Negro Won’t Do. Mid-summer laid come again, and “everybody” avus down at Long Branch once more. Tho season avus at its height, when ono day Margaret received this note: “Dear Margaret—I knoAv you have been pained by my silence though yon Avould never say so. ] have a long story to toll of these pus! months for they have boon eventful ones to mo. When avo meet, (which '"ill ho soon, fori am coining to the liraift!i in a day or tavo,) I will toll you all but ono fact Avhicli I mention iioav. Iain married; the why and wherefore you shall knoiv then. It is needless to say that my husband icconipanies mo As ever, “Delpiiixe.” Married! Margaret’s eyes gazed in fascination at tho note in her hand. Could Delpliine bo in her bouhos? Was she horself in her senses? She hardly knoAv till a laughing voice cried, “Do you carry a Medusa’s head in your hand, fair ludy?” And Harold stood before her. “Harold,” answered Margaret, ‘just read that, and see if it isn’t enough to turn any ono into stone.” Ho ran oA*or the note, and replied, “What next?” As the arrivals of tho grand feat ure of tho day at all Avatering-places; so tho advent of Mr. and Mrs. Laur ence GartliAvaito avus tho grandest feature of tho arrivals at tho Stetson. Curiosity avus on tip-toe, and many fair face convortly watclicd Del- phine as she stepped from tho car riage. At tho hop, n» Margaret Avas making her entrance, sho encounter ed Harold; glnncing’to where Dcl- phi no stood, happy and triumphant, leaning on her linsband’s arm she said, “And Delphi lie’s licprt, Har old?” “Sho is like her box.” “And Avliat is that?” “A mystery.” THE END. Gaiety. Tliore arc two kinds of gaiety, 'lie ono arises from Aviint of heart— being touched by no pity, sympathiz ing with no pain, even of its own causing—it slimes nnjl glitters like a frost-bound river in tho gleaming sun. The other springs from execs* of heart—-that is, from u heart ov*or- lloAvii.g Avifch kindliness towards all men and all tilings; and suffering under no superadded grief, it is light from the happiness which it causes— from the happiness which it sees. Tins may bo compared to the same river, sparkling and smiling under tho sun of summer—nnd running on fertility and increase to all within, and oven to many beyond, its reach. J [Written for The Comtiwion.] “Seed time and hnrvost shall not fail.” I used to thjuk that meant the spring and fall of the farmer’s yoar, and I reckon it did in the old en timo Avhen farming avus in its in fancy and folks didont knoAv much about tho nutur of seeds and plants and guanna and agricultural imple ments. But iioav its seed time and harvest time nearly all the yoar round. Wo sow oats from August to April, anil Avhoat froni September to January, mid it takes most all tho winter to gather in the cotton. There is no timo Avhon a tired man can sot doAvn and be easy—no rest for tho Aviokod in this world and not much I reckon .in.tho next;* It looks like avo farmers would huvo nothing to do uoav but to. gather in the fruits of our labors and bo thankful and happy, but wlmt with pulling and hauling corn and picking out cotton and turning under tho grass and AA'cods nnd sowing oats and Avhoat and stripping and cutting nnd top ping tho sorgum and hauling it to the mill and getting -up tho Avintor’s Avood,.its tho busyiost season of the' year. 11 docs seem almost impossi ble to carry it all on at onco'in a fc- lisitous munnor considorin tho un- ( eertin Avonthor and tho scarcity of tmnsciei.t labor durin tho cotton| season. A fool nifgor had rather pick' cotton at 50 conts a hundred for the next, ( avo months and perish all the| rest of the Aviliter than take a good homo uoav at 8 dollars a month. It takes a power of Avork to roul-i izo from anything on a farm, and if anybody, thinks the craps groAv Avith- oirt sArait and toil -nnd jump frbm tho field into tho crib of their oavii accord, just lot him f ry it a Avhile and see. It looks like a bushel of meal didont cost much to make it, and take it to tho mill, and all this requires a wagon and team andgreas- in the axils and fussin with tho in fernal nudes. And if you want to sell 25 or 30 bushels and hilvn’t got any corn shollor, by tho time you’ve shucked and shelled it by hand, and hauled it to market, your fingers Avill be Avorn down to tho quick and your Inind blistered, and you’d take five dollars a bushel for it if you could got it, and fool no tare of conscience. Well, its just so Avith most every thing nude on a farm. Its all hard work, I sent a load of wood to town and sold it for seventy-fivo cents, and I thought if those city folks about Romo avIio stopped out of their offleos some cold day and jowed a poor wood hauler on his load, know how much hard Avork it cost him they Avouldn’t do it. Grinding his axe, making tho maul, tapering doAvn the gluts, cutting doAvn the tree, cut ting it up and splitting it, straining the grunts out of him when the tim ber js tough and knotty—loading up the wagon, struddling a sharp edged stick for a cushion to ritlo on, stalling in a mudwholo, prizing and sometimes eussin out of it, puying bridge toll, hunting round for buyer, being Jeived like you avus a common swindler, getting homo again away after dark and having to feed and Avnsh up and eat a bite of supper and go to bod and got up in tho morn ing to do tho sumo thing over again. I Avouldn’t like that, avouIU you? But farming ajnfc that had, though its all hard Avork and constant Avork and it looks liko you don’t got more than half enough for your com and your Avhoat. But there is a heap of solid .comfort and independence in having a plenty ofnlh those products about you. 1 like to feed tlio hogs an’ see ’em enjoy it and grow fat. I like to peruse tho cattle and see the milk coavs come up so hIoav and dignifi ed AVith their uddcrsnllon a stmt, I liko to seo the calves and the pigs and tho sheop a gamblin' around. It makes a man feel patriarchal to • ■ ; i • V'.-- •' . ,7 ] i liavo so many lovely creatures lookin’ up to you and folloAvin'you about with tho basket on your arm and’de pendin’ upon you liko littlo children:’ It gives the man the sumo sort of ccmfort ho used to fool Avlieii lie OAvncd a passel of darkeys and the’ littlo nigs avus a haugiii’ ( avouniV watohin’ his movements ns ho went, to and fro, hither niul thither; mid hcarin”cm say, “dar goes Mass William—dar lie.” I suppose that; the love of dominion is natural to all P«pfy,»nda m»., <Wt mmd l,c- longm to auother man so much ' somebody or something belongs him. In sluvory times there >viis bilk f one tiling a darkey coiild opp/jtjinl;', didont belong to liis lnuste^by'l^ an’ that was a dog, ou? a.dog ho avrs - bound to luivo if ho-was allowed keep him. Well, I don’t see much difference , in tho darkeys hotAvecn iioav a«d, t then. Thoro’s a fmv of om stuck up by education in the big cities—just... enough to control ‘the masses of om politically and religiously, ^t.mojjb... all tho race tiro tho samo niggers , thoy used to bo—they can’t; get along without a master, aud tlpoy don't. Thoy have to bo managed liko, lit.fc^, children. Our northern brefchorpp call them the nations winds; but you , see tho gnardeen is so poor off lie can’t do them any good, and so avo aro playin substitutes aud can do onything in the Avorld Avith em we want but. to vote em, Wo democrats' can’t do Unit. They Avon’t vote for anybody but u republican if they knoAv it mid lovcry one ip my njibor- liood is a Felton man for ithat reason and nothing else, and you can’t make em believe lie is a domocrat. I’vo got their ooufidonee in everything olso hut that. They ivoii’t believe mo, and the fact is they sooni sp ebr- tain that ihe aint ,a dom.be ’ '* Sometimes t'idpk nniy 'bo l;j more about it Hum I do. But I’ll toll you Avliat’s a fuct, and you may toll it. to tlio doctor, -if he’U make a speech in this naborliobd and toll the darkovs he’s a democrat and is oppo sed to the republican party, i’ll bet anybody a hat lib don’t get nary Dig ger’s vote that hoars him—and'it^ the samo way all over the district, Ax Harris if ho thinks its morally correct for a preacher to capture the votes of tho nation’s AA'ards in that way. Don’t it look liko as if on'o-of the elect avus deceivin’ tlio elect to be elected? Yours, Bill Ain*. TWISTED SENTENCES. I A Clergyman says: “A young wo man died in my neighborhood yes- toVday, Avhile I avus preaching in a beastly state of intoxication.” A coroner’s verdict rouds tbua: “The deceased came to liis death by excessive drinking, producing appo- ploxy in the minds of tho jury.” A Avostern pnpor says: “A child was run ovor by a Avagon throb years old, and cross-eyed, with pantlots on, which never spoke iiftoward.” tions Cl* my lord, if you ovor como xvi mile of my house, yoinvill stay there all night.” A correspondent in writing of a celebration in tho city of Cleveland, says: “Tho procession was vbry fine, and nearly two miles long, as Avas also the prayer of Dr. Perry, tho chaplain.” Cliickon-thoiA'csat Pensacola, Fin., ‘ serenade the family they intend to rob, and while tlie inmdtcfi of house arc listening at tho front Avin- doAvs to tho- musicians the Avorking members of the association clean out the coops in the hack-yard. -rt.J-.l4 ! fu ' All infant who avi'11 insist on howl ing and kicking after being tender ed the last tooth-brush and only egg- hoatcr in the house, sadly needs that regular motion of the elbow which Solomon invented and patented.-* Detroit Free Prm. .