Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

• ■ V ..I- . ,'-r ■» ■, : : \ wm2m -nX ^ f * 1 Return alter Teiv ^y? ^ 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