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JOHN T. DUNCAN,
Ordinary of Laurens
COUNTY,
DUBLIN, GA
4
pffi
VOL. 1.
DUBLIN, GEORGI A, WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 1, 1879.
We have heard the cry of nothing to wear,
A sad lament of the maidens fair ;
And nothing to eat o’er groaning boards,
Is the daily sigh of creation’s lords;
But a sadder yet, and a louder cry,
That rises up to the azure sky,
Are the words of him who turns away
From the piteous calls of humanity—
Who goe3 in his ease and wealth to live.
But “really hasn’t a penny to give.”
Nothing to give to the suff’ring poor—
Naught for the hungry who knock at his
' /; door—
Nothing to give to the lowly and weak—
The children who throng in the desolate
street,
Though theyTaint by the wayside, weary
and worn,
Their pathways o’ershadowed in life’s early
morn, > .7
Thcre are none who will yield to the^r suf
fering heed.
Who will pity their weakness, and give to
their need;
For of all who in grandeur of palaces live,
How many there are who have “nothing
to give 1”
They have dwellings proud, and hoarded
gold,
Lands far-rcacliing, wealth untold,
Ships rich-laden, that each breeze
Bears to port from foreign seas,
Wanting only while they live
That “better part,” a l*art to give.
So they clasp with puin and fear,
All their hoarded treasures here;
But when death at last shall come
To the rich man’s gorgeous home,
Not the beggar at his door
Will be written half so poor,
As angels* in that time to come, .
Shall record his fearful doom,
Who had luid no treasures there
In “our Father’s mansions,” where
They are written poor who live
' Rich on earth, with naught to give.
MY NEW YEAR’S DREAM.
By Marie E. Clark©. '
J.
It was midnight, and the last of
the year. All alone in my littie
room. I listened to the heavy clang
of the bells that bade farewell to
185G, to welcome in his new-born
brother. Alone: One year before 1
had been the centre of a "brilliant
pal ty, each and all of whom weio
drinking a welcome to the New 'll ear.
I was an orphan then, but an heiress
and a belle: and having lost mv par
ents in infancy, my orphan-hood did
not weigli heavily upon me. One
month later, my guardian abscond
ed, and it was found that all my
money was gone with him. W here
ho-wont I know not to this day,
only know he never returned. One
by one the gav butterflies of fashion,
win had made me their idol, fell
away, and I was alone. There was
one, one in whose eyes I had fancied
I read deep devotion; one whose
band clasped mine with a long, lin
goring pressure; one whose image
nestled close against, my heart; one
whose large, soft eyes haunted me;
onon whose faith I would have
Btukjed my life: lie too was gone. lie
was’*away when the news came to
me; I hoped for a letter, a line to say
he was the same as ever. It never
came. Crushed, worn out, I left
my own home, to ho a governess here
tp Mrs. Morton's lovely daughter.
£Mie was as old as myself, but my
ihrnsic and 'languages were farther
advanced, and I came to teach hei
1 what I knew of these.
The last stroke of the hells died
tway, )U)d all was silent. Mr. and
Mrs*. Morton, Lncy and her brother,
Jvcre all at a gav party, siicfi ~a one
/as welcomed me one year before.
Wen the servants were all out, and
/ I was entirely alone.
/ a heavy weight seemed crushing
( me to the earth, and I longed with
, bitter, intense longing for one voice
' to wish me joy on the New Year, one
hand to press miue in- love and sym
pathy. There was noue! Sadly J
looked forward through the years to
come. Nothing could I pee but toik
and loneliness. “Oh!” I cried/
“that I could die with the old year
“Peace!” said a low voice beside
me, “rather wish to begin a nfew life
wiu» the New Year.”
1 started upShd looked about me.
All va- dark.
“Who is there?” ! cried.
A flood of light answered my <pi
turn, and there on the pillow, where
my head had pressed, I saw an arti
ficial flower which hud fallen from
^ny bonnet, which hung above it.
In the centre of the flower stood a
tiny figure, not higher than my fin
ger, and it spoke to mo again.
“Murmurer,” it said, “be still.
Our Father commands all things for
the best. Think yon that you are the
most miserable being on earth?
Have you not kind friends, a pleasant
home, and a salary that covers your
expenses? I have the power to show
you how the New Year opens for my
Maker.”
“Your Maker?”
“Yes. • I am the spirit enclosed in
your now bonnet; come with.me!” .
Darkness closed around me again,
and I found myself in the open air.
Literally in the air, for I was Bail
ing along high above the houses.
We passed out of the fashionable
quarters where Mr. Morton resided,
and aligted in a narrow court, where
din ami misery reigned supreme
My conductor flitted before me,
and 1 followed. Up, up, many flights
of stairs we passed, until we reached
the attic of a high, narrow house.
Here we found two young girls, sew
ing, while a third counted the con
tents of a little green purse.
IIow much is there, Carrie?”
asked one of them, laying down a
wreath of tiny flowers she had just,
twisted into shape.
“Sixteen cents.”
“Fve cents apiece and one over,”
said the other, bitterly. “We begin
our New Year with brilliant pros
pects.”
“Hush, sister!” and the one nam
ed Carrie pointed to a mattress upon
which lay a woman sleeping.
What can we do? It is impos
sible to live in this wav.”
A gloomy silence fell’on the party.
“Carrie,” said the first speaker,
“how much did Mrs. Cray give you
for Miss Morton’s bonnet?”
4 4 T wen ty- fi vc een ts. ”
I started. Miss Morton’s bonnet
was warranted French, and had cost
thirty dollars.
Did you find anything?”
The materials? No, only the
work. It took me two days, the lace
required dainty handling. I was
paid ten cents for the work on the
other, for her companion. Mrs.
Gray says we should be thankful for
any work.”
“God help ns!” sobbed the other.
“Death is better than this.”
‘‘Come,” said my guide, “we have
one more visit.” Flitting before me
he led me to another house, as pool
as the one we had left. Hero, as be
fore, we found the occupants busy.
It was a small room, and the (ire
made ir, close and oppressive, even on
the cold January morning. Round
a small table, by the light of a tallow
candle, a woman and two children
were making artificial flmvers. The
little boy twisted the vines, the little
girl cut the leaves, and the niothei
put them together. All wore sad
faces, and the mother’s tears fell on
the bright leaves. Suddenly throw
ing down the flowers, she rose ana
left the room. The children follow
ed, and we too. Up again to a high
attic. No fire was in this room, no
furniture, except a rfitle coffin, in
which lay a baby form. Hero the
You cried yourself to sleep,
Lizzie,” and the round, white arms
embraced mo ; “why will you mourn
for the past ? We all love you ; I am
sure I do, and really you are better
off than some people.”
“Indeed I am !” I said, “and I will
begin my l$ew Year with a thankful
spirit. My bonnet, I thunk you.”
“Why! are yon crazy ?”
“No; but I have had a dream.
Now toll me all about the party.”
“Oh, we had a famous time. Liz
zie, there were many inquiries for
you. Naughty reelnse! Will you
help to receive my calls to-morrow
morning ?”
It was an effort to promise, to see
her gay visitors as the governess, but
I made it. I reflected that I was in
a strartgo city, and would meet only
those whom I had seen at Mr. Mor
ton’s before, and I promised to go
down.
“Mrs. Bates inquired for you.
Said she noticed your face at my
charade party! Mrs. Erins said she
could never forget your kindness to
Laura, when she was sick here.
am fairly tired out with dancing.
We had a new lion 1”
“Who ?”
“The author of Poems by the
Road-Side. You remember them ?
You know brother Fred insisted that
you sat foY Joanna. It lias always
been a mystery who wrote them.
He preserved his incognita until to
night, but now stands confessed.
He is a resident of your city, hut in
tends to puss some months in New
York. Going to publish a new book,
calling upon her child to answer her.
The children's caresses were all in
vifin. Nature must have her way
and the mother, the widow, wept for
y. My heart grew cold and
chill, and I turned* from the scene.
A voice cried in my ears,
/‘Asleep) Lizzie ? Wake up. and
wish me a happy New Year!”
- I started up in bed, to see Lucy
Morton, in her exquisite ball dress,
leaning over me for a kiss.
“Cureless girl,” she cried, “your
head has been crushing one of the
flowers which had dropped from your
now bonnet. Happy New Year ‘
Why don’t you say so? Yon are
half asleep yet, and your eyes are
th pleasure, madam,” and lie
take his leave, having first
“With
rose^to
ascertained their dinner hour.
Oh, lha| long, long day ! Compli
ments, greetings fell upon my ear:
nothing interested me. At last,
wearied and sick, I sought my own
room, ant) throw inysolf upon the
bed. Lucy missed mo, but pleading
a headache, I escaped the dinner,
promtsing to join hor guests in the
evening.
frog before my little glass dross
and a 'thrill of vanity passed
thrdiigh jne. I saw large, dark eyes?
soft brown lmir falling in a profusion
of curls; a fair, round heck and
arms. My dress was pimple, a dark
blue Isitk, but it was becoming,
wore no ornaments, no head-dress.
As I looked, Lucy’s bright face, the
fair eltrls crowned with forget-mo-
uots, appeared beside mine. It was
like an ungel’s face. The vanity
fled, and feeling that Mr. Haven had
shown good tastoat least, I wreathed
her waist with my arm, and wo went
down stairs. The rooms were filled
with Quests, and Lucy was soon sur
rounded by friends. I stole into a
corner and watched them. Walter
Haven was the favored one.
/Lizzie, dear, will you play
BILL ARP’S SUNDAY CHAT.
He Thinks He. fins Solved The
Labor Question, Etc.
“I did
and I
believe.”
“Who is he ?”
“His name is Walter Haven. You
will see him to-morrow, lie asked
permission to call. Olio, two, three
Three o’clock, iti* bed time. Good
night,” and kissing me warmly,'she
flitted away.
Walter Haven ! The liuttie
upon my heart, causing' uji acute
pain. I had long thoUgjit' -that 1
could bear to hoar it. the pain there
was so dead and sullen ; but I found'
the old memories called up the old
feelings. Walter Haven, who had
never spoken of his love, yet left its
rapress sealed upon my heart. Ah !
lips are not needed to win a maiden’s
heart. There are looks, there an
delicate attent ons, kind actions that
will prison it without one word of
love passing to her ear. I loved hi in
Until I was poor I believed he hud
loved me. “I will not sco him,” 1
thought.. Then pride whispered.
Let hi in see you can meet him
calmly, without betraying any more
nterest than a friend might ask.”
There was no more sleep for me.
The first morning of the year found
me watching its dawning.
The calling hour came. Dressed
with care, 1 was beside Lucy in the
parlor. She looked unusually lovely.
light silk cut so as to leave the
snowy shoulders and arms bare, and
a cluster of blue ribbons in her fair
curls, made a simple but most becom
ing toilet. Our visitors came in one
after another. The parlor was filled
witli callers, and I stood half con
cealed by the curtains behind Lucy,
watering the animated scene, when
“Good morning Mr. Haven,” fell
upon my car. I looked. He was
bending over her hand, just as one
year before lie had bent over mi«vo.
polka ?” said Mrs. Morton,
not Expect so many guests,
have not ordered any music.”
“Certainly,” and in a few moments
I was securely hidden in a corner be
hind the grand piano. They whirled
round and round, and I played. No
one/niissed me; no one thought that
I conlcl tire.' Fortunately the music
was almost mechanical. My thoughts
wore free. Two figures came to the
corlier of thc piuiio to rest after the
waltz. They wore Lucy and Mr.
Haven. 1 I turned my lieud usido and
shook down my curls. Wniter’s back
was toward me, but I could sec Lti-
« lovely fiftjjj; '
“What a:beautiful bracelet,” said
M4 'Haven, bending over Lucy’s
arm.
“Yon have only seen half ils beau
ty,” was the reply. “Soe, when I
touch this spring, it shows the face
of the giver, Mr. Haven
Ho grasped her arm tightly, and I
trembled violently.
“Forgive me,” he said ; but the
giver, the oh, Miss Lucy, I have
sought h r tor mouths, I left home
to attend to the publication of my
book, and was gone some months.
When I returned, 1 heard that her
guardian hud stolen her fort une, and
she was gone away to earn her living.
She, so delicate and tender. Where
can 1 find her ?”
My hands fell upon the piano with
grand crash, and he turned. In
an instant he stood beside me, while
Lucy, dear Lucy, kept away the
guests interrupted in their dunce.
I left the corner, leaning on his
arm, and we waltzed to dear Lucy’s
music, and nobody noticed us.
Next day he called, and the Now
Year that had opened so darkly, now
beamed with bright hopes, and I irt
few weeks was Walter Haven’s
mans hand warmly nor a woman
that, for these darn lit-
mother knelt, moaning, weepingnini' caimfy ! All, my traitor
heart beat as if it would burst, n/y
whole frame trembled, and I knew
my face was pale. He sat beside her
on the sofa. Mrs. Morton was occu
pied receiving other culls.
“Miss Morton, are you tired of
hearing happy New Year yet ?”
“Not at all. Some come in all
sincerity. Those I prize.”
Will you class mine amongst them?
This is my last call to-day, for I have
not many lady friends in New York,
and I will say happy New Year to no
one again to-day. I will give you the
last best wish.”
“Mr. Haven, you will dine with
us to-day ?” said Mrs. Morton, join
ing them.
wife.
A Polar Wave Moving West.
Philadelphia Times.
Charles Francis Adams appears to
be slipping from the grip of Mttasa-
ahbsetts. Ho bought $40,000 worth
of Kansas City Jots Just. .TJumwU-.
and will build a cotton mill, with
cottages for the operatives.
One hundred and two societies,
twenty-eight newspapers and eighty-
eight books and pamphlets have
been prohibited’since the promulga
tion of the anti socialist law. In
Northern Geamuny tliero is but one
journal of Socialist proclivities left,
in Central and Southern Germany
there still remain eleven. And those
have changed their names since the
new law and try to conceal their b.us
as much as possible.
A waiter in the city of Mexico re
prehended a guest’s unseemly eager
ness to be served by extracting his
eye with a corkscrew.
Written for the Constitution.
I think I have solved the labor
question. Olio thing certain, I’ve
changed my notions a good deal
about 'work—hard work—muscle
work. 1 wasent born to it nor
only in a spasmodic way.
to wonder how a poor
iconciled to it. Brought
had boys’ wuys,
that wcedin
ho garden
M
be endured by an aspiring youth.
Since then, 1% looked at poor folks
plowin in the midsummer sun and
thrashiti wheat and rolliiv logs and
splittin rails and slayin timber and
haulin' wood in the snow and sl'-’Ot,
and been so sorry for cm I didonl
know what to do. Well, theres a
heap of folks I’m sorry for yit, but
it aint because they have to work
hard for a living. Bye tried it limv
for a year and better, and the more
I does it the better I likes it. If
the sweat of the brow was the curse
put upon Adam, it wasent much of
a curse, and lms long since been
tempered down to a blessing in dis
guise, and the disguise drops off
when you come to rest and have a
good appetite and sloe]) well aud soe
the rewards of you:’ labor all around
von. Theres a . positive comfort in
waiting on oneasolf, but I never
found it out until Sherman come
along and took off my niggers, with
out slicing for cm, pr pityin for cm.
or lcavin his duo hill. But its all
right now. I dont mind choppin
up a load of wood any move than 1
used to cuttiu off one stick. 1 en
joy every fire I make—fives that
como from timber Unit 1 cut down
and split, and Infilled, ..and. cuj yifi.
and wheeled to the back door and
piled up in the piazzer. I prize the
light wood I limited the woods for,
and have put so carefully away—the
rich kimllin split so flue and clean,
and ready for the bold mornings
when thov conic. The snow come
upon us this time unawares when
wo wasent exactly cxpoctin it, and
I thought wo would have au ugly
lime in the woods, but 1 never was
more comfortable. The axe was
sharp, the timber brittle, blood cir
culated elegantly, and I felt like J
could chop all day and not get tired.
That shootiu man brags about how
many pounds lie raises an hour in
ifting his gun to his shoulder, hut
uhoppin wood all day is raisin about
fifty thousand pounds about live
feet, high, which isa little more than
Harris can do on a fish diet. When
1 lived in town I used to pay dar
kies GO cent a cord for cutting up
fire wood and felt like I was cheat
ing em at that, but 1 would like to
take such a contract now, for GO
[jcnts is a power of good money and
would do a heap of good in a circum
scribed family.
Takin if all in all, farm work is u
pleasanter and more vuryguted re
creation than orokay or base-ball ot
playin drafts in a lawyers offis. If
there is now and then some worry
or misadventure, it aint to bo coin-
paired to your merchants, and other
city folks. workiiLa AiK
try in to keep up with society mid
meet the bank notes fulfill duo.
That’s what I call work. That’s
what wears a man out and brings
the crow’s feet prematurely. One
can spot cm. as they walk along.
They go a little stoopy, looking
saintly and sad, and movin in a slow
and tired hurry. When you recog
nize em with “howdy do,” or “good
morning,” they force a feeble smile
of welcomo, but there’s no gush in
it, for they wore thinkin about them
bank notes und the shrinkage of ways
and means. They never speak first
ly and say, “why, hello, Bill; how
are you, old fell? Glad to soe you
you are lookin first rate; whats the
news? How’s Mrs.;vArp and the
children?” They never squoozc a
cither, as to that, for these darn lit
tle just debts that a man wants to
nav hut cant, and these everlasting
pay hut cant , and those everlasting
love letters that, follow after em,
takes all the squeeze out of him, and
ho fools alum! enough interest in a
woman to get out of her way ’and
not tree! on her frock tail.
I never sco such a man without
thinkin’of iho juck ’o lantern that
brought him to it—vminin after so-
siety—tryin to catch up or keep in
sight of "this deceivin’ witch while
she shines aWay yiituler iind when he
gets there has moved a little further
off and tolls him Oil and along until
lie mires up in the bog and cant got
oiil. Then you sec he goes to bridg-.
in’—bridgin’over us t he money lend
ers call if— and he hobbles along
awhile on the bridges until they .give.. v.,
out, and then he caves for good, r
But when a man lives 111 the COtln-
try, sosiety sorter forgets him and he
forgets her. llii family are lefi out
of the calendar. Turlton dresses
aint wanted every week for a
or table, ftre^family roe
have to be kept just exactly
as the parlor and yon civil t<
ibvbr. bread and roast tlie‘
light bread and
there if you*want to. The
can wear out their old clothes, ant!
if anybody' comes to sec you, why
you know they come but of shore
inuff friendship and yon can rely on
cm to attend 'your funeral when you
have ono. Biu. Am*.
m
m
The Acldiju Beauty.
Washington letter to Chicago Times.
Ackliu, the notrious Louisiana
member, is back in his. pent in the
louse, with iiis lmir curled in as
sweet rows as ever. lie is now out
side of the democratic caucus. The
Louisiana democrats, to their credit
be it said, throw him ovcvb.wrd, ami
the republicans of the state having
no reputation to loose, took him in,
preferring a man they could uso,
without being over nice about thcr
material they employed. Very few
members £Havo anything to say to
Ackliu. Tlio few who know Tnn|fS®s*
barely speak to him. Tlio creatures
of the lobby wink when lie passes,
while lie enjoys tlio honor of being
pointed out to visitors in the gal
leries as one ot the most notorious
members in the house.
Si
Our National Wealth.
Pfiitadulphlu North American.
A pretty fair calculation of tlio
census of population in 1880 can he
made. But who can estimate tlio
aggregate wealth of the nation? In
18T0 it. had risen to nearly thirty
thousand millions of dollars. Shull
that total lie augmented by twenty
or twenty-live millions? Shall our
active capital in 1880 equal that of
England? It did not in 1870, bur
great preponderance being in fixed
capital. It is probublo that wo
sliull beat Franco and Germany.
The New York Herald, in a long
article on “Southern Industry,
Crops, Trade und Business. Pros
pects,” augers very hopefully of the
future of this section, and especially
of Georgia, which it characterizes as
the pattern State of the .South in
enterprise and improvement.” It
says: “Georgia was the first to eman
cipate herself from carpot-bag rule,
— 1 --jT'-fl 1 - »-B— e ~
position. All the railroads which
onnect the Mississippi valley with
the Southern Atlantic coast meet at
Atlanta, a point in hor territory.
Her navigable rivers and enterprising
cities favor the development t.f her
resources. She is opening now rail
roads, and the stock of some of her
old ones is advancing prodigiously; in
price. She is purchasing expensive
ocean steamers, and within a year
five hundred thousand dollars of new
capital has boon invested in new cot
ton factories. She is sotting an ex- .//wjj
ample which the neighboring States
are following with varying degrees
of success, und on the general revival
of prosperity throughout the country
the Southern Htutos are likely to en
joy their full proportionate share