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VOL. 1.
NOTHING PARTICULAR..
I bear about by day and night
The most acute of maladies;
To picture it in black and white
The object of this ballad is.
Permit me, gentle reader, please,
To breathe in your auricular ;
I suffer from the fell disease
Called nothing in particular.
To render it the more intense,
And nearly unendurable,
My doctor says, in confidence,
’Tls totally incurable.
My mind has threatened, ere to-day,
To lose its perpendicular,'
And full a melancholy prey
To nothing in particular. •'
THE POOR RELATION.
In one of the third story rooms of
a small boarding-house on Locus
street, Philadelphia, sat two men in
conversation. The cooling wind
played gently with the short, brown
curls of the younger, while his hand
some eyes and face were lighted by a
bright, animated expression that told
of sudden joy at some news just com
municated by his companion.
“I can scarcely credit such good
fortune. ^ Are you sure that there is
no mistake?”
“Perfectly; here are the docu
ments. Prove your identity; prove
to our satisfaction that you are Ralph
Hamilton, sou of John Paul Hamil
ton, and you are a millionaire. Can
you prove it?”
•*l can, immediately. But this
is indeed a welcome change; to spring
from deep poverty to suuh wealth in
a moment, by the death of an un
known relative, seems almost incred
ible. 1 am grateful to you, Metcalf,
for your i ains in so seeking me; also
for your interest in my welfare. 1
have only one favor to ask in addi
tion: that you remain silent about
it. The fact, i f my changed circum
stances need not be made known as
yet. 1 shall not alter my style of
living for a while, but shall fulfill
an engagement to become the private
tutor of two small boys residing,
strange to relate, in the same place
umere liw tUiH new estate. In tak
ing the property you ~say~T am re
quired to assume the name of its for
mer owner. This 1 will do, after a
few months spent in the neighbor
hood as a poor teacher. I have met
sad rebuffs from fashionable people
during the days of my poverty, and
1 have no idea of being made a vic
tim of some fortune-hunter, so I will
study human nature a little longer
us a poor man, win some good wo
man for love’s sake, then so.tile down
and enjoy myself ”
“A very sensible conclusion,” said
Mr. Metcalf, who, although his legal
adviser, was also, and had been for
years, a warm, personal friend, “and
the wisest thing you can do under
the circumstances.” '
On the piazza of a beautiful resi
dence near, though not exactly in
the large village of , sat two la
dies, Mrs. Corsair and her daughter
Zoe, while a third, a niece of the el
der lady, Blanche Gilmore, stood
with sa light hat in her hand, us
though* j nst returned from a walk.
They, were discussing the appearance
of a ngw tutor who had taken for a
time on trial the education of the
two jras of the faiii i ly. 0liar Ioy,
OinnjSlibse boys, bad just appeared
upon The piazzrti ' iyi^ wul saying:
“Yes, indeed,! like him—so band-
some and pleasant—not much like
cross old Stevens!”
“EvcT£<ke is handsome in Char
lies eyes,if they don’t scold,” return
ed Zoo.! fh
“Yon will say lie is also wheu you
see him. He is coming back now,
as lie went to the post-office a few
moments ago.”
In a short time Charlie whispered:
“Now girls there he comes. Tell
me if what I said was not true.”
“Yes, indeed!” exclaimed both
young ladies as they surveyed the Hue
figure and handsome face approach
ing; aud .when the young man smil
ed pleasuntly upon Charley, and was
introduced by Mrs. Corsair, Blanche
thought she had never seen so hand
some a man, while Zoe whispered, as
ho passed into the house in order to
answer a letter just yeceived:
“If the young heir of Bellmont
property prove one-half as handsome
I will be content!”
A splendid estate, be it known to
the reader, with a residence of almost
royal magnificence, lay within sight
of their pretty home, and had just,
through the death of old Mr. Bell
mont, a childless widower, its last
owner, passed into the hand of a
young relative, expected suon to vis
it the premises. Zoe Corsair and
her prudent mother had decided to
appropriate both owner and estate as
soon as possible after his arrival, and
were making great preparations for
that event. For was not Zoe a beau
ty as well as the acknowled belle of
The new tutor Mr. Hamilton soon
became a great favorite with his pu
pils, whose improvement under his
care was daily perceptible. Living
as ho did in the family, he soon be
came well acquainted with all, while
he evidently admired the beautiful
Zoe, who treated him with cool po
liteness. Of Blanche be saw little
She was only the poor relation, de
pending unon her uncle for support,
therefore compelled to bear every
imposition and caprice her worldly,
selfish aunt and cousin saw fit to in
flict. Being industrious, ingenious,
and amiable, her fingers became the
hard-taxed sewing drudges of the
family. From*morning until night
she delved, bearing the ill-natured
fault-findings that were heaped upon
her. until her heart became very
heavy and life burdensome. Only
one little enjoyment was hers, and
that was solitary afternoon walk
that she insisted upon taking for the
benefit of her health, and for selfish
motives, allowed by her aunt, solely
that her strength might not fail
when she was so much needed; and
as soon as she could put aside her
needle for the purpose her feet fair
ly Hew to a solitary spot, a deep ra
vine wildly romantic and secluded,
«<>t JLujfuamJAfii 1 ... nnnln’s residonoo.
Thither she went one beautiful
afternoon about the first of October
—tripping along down the small
winding path that led to the depths
holo.vv, while she felt her spirits rise
with every step she took arid rock
siio passed.
Oiice or twice she paused and gaz
ed down, down to the cool waterfall,
after tracing its high descent from
rock to rock, then singing a weird
little song. But suddenly she paus
ed, a groan and faint call for help
arresting her steps.
Hastening to the spot where she
judged the sufferer to bo, she saw a
man lying at the foot of the ravine,
motionless and now quite still. In
a few moments she was beside him,
and on lifting his head from the
ground, she found Mr. Hamilton,
the tutor, whose handsome face had
so often visited her thoughts, uncon
scious before her.
She paused but an instant to take
in the situation, then running to the
stream of water, she dipped in her
haudkerchicf and bathed his brow.
How handsome he was, she thought
as she supported his head upon her
arm, and tried so tenderly to restore
him. At last he opened his eyesand
gazed long and vacantly upon her;
then, collecting his thoughts, he ask
ed where he was, and what had hap
pened.
<‘You are in the ravine Mr. Ham
ilton, and are seriously hurt, I fear.
Did you fall from the rocks, or why-
do I find yon thus in a swoon?”
“Ah! yes, I remember. I did fall.
I leaned over to pluck a rare flower
and lost my balance. But I feel bet
ter again, thanks to you for your
care, and I will see if I cannot rise.”
IJo did get to his feet, with the
ready assistance of Blanche, bnt
found from t)jc pain occasioned by-
Che effort that his arm was broken,
and one ankle seemed be sprained
or much hurt.
“Lean on me, Mr. Hamilton.
Never fear, 1 am young and strong,
and I think I can get you up the
path, if it is steep, to the road, and
from thence, after a rest, homo.”
Slowlv, yet surely, leaning on the
young girl for that support he was
so accustomed to give to others, lie
crept along, often stopping to rest,
until at last the level road was gain
ed, and from there his own room, to
which a physician was soon summon
ed, and his limb set and bruises at
tended to, while rest and perfect
quiet were deemed essential to ward
oif all tendencies to fever, which
otherwise was liable to ensue.
Lying thus holplcss up n his bed,
the door partly open, to allow a cir
culation of air, the young man half
dozing, when ho accidently heard
the following conversation, not, of
course, intended for his ears:
“A pretty pieco of work this,”
said Mrs. Corsair, who was an in
tensely selfish woman, “Who is to
play nurse now, I would like to
know?”
“And to a miserable tutor,” inter
rupted the equally selfish Zoe. “I,
for one, will not; leave him to the
servants!”
“But I cannot spare tlip servants.
The house-work must bo dono reg
ularly, or all goes wrong.” “Then
let Blanche attend to him,” return
ed Zoo.
“I should be very glad to take
charge*of tho poor young man, alone
among strangers, and sick,” return
ed Blanche, “and if aunt is willing,
I will devote my time to him.”
“Yes, and neglect tho sowing.
There is my wrapper, that I need so
much net finished yet.”
“Do not tear, aunt,” returned tho
same sweet voice, “I will finish that
also, 1 can take my sewing to his
room and attoiid to both ; if not able
to sew when ho is awake, I will do
it at night when bo sleeps.”
“Very well—do as you please, but
remember, that wrapper must bo fin
ished by Saturday.”
• “Come, mother don’t bother about
him any longer. The carriage waits
to take us to the concert. Como
So saying the unfeeling Zoe swept
dmvn stairs, followed by her mother,
and drove away, while a soft voice
murmured by tho invalid’s side:
‘You are not sleeping, I see.
What shall I do for your relief ?”
“I feel quite .comfortable, thank
you, except a headache, caused by
the sudden jar.”
“Let me bathe it, then; perhaps I
eaii charm it away by gentle fric
tion.”
Seating herself beside him, she
poured some refreshing alcohol upon
her hand and commenced her labor
of love.
How soft her ‘fingers were, how
gentle her touch and what a depth
of womanly pity beamed from those
large, brown eyes. Did lie dream
it, or when he laid upon that hard
ground in that dismal place, had not
those same eyes shed tears over him,
and those red lips murmured pitying
words!
But we will not. linger to tell tho
fancies that were soon lost in deep,
refreshing sleep, nor of the rapid
improvement of the invalid, who soon
was uhln to resume bin duties, al
though he carried for a while one
arm in a sling-
About two weeks after the acci
dent Blanche wandcroi'ed once more
to her fovorite resort, and seating
herself at the foot of the wild and
roeky descent, she whs soon lost in a
deep reverie.
“This is a chaiming spot, Miss
Blanche,” said a well-known voice
behind her, “and I sec is a favorite
of yours. Now thitt I know how to
avoid its dangers, I also am charmed
with its deep repose and picturesque
beauty.”
“I am glad you like it,” was the
reply of the young girl, as she blush
ed slightly, when ho seated himself
by her side. “For years it has been
my daily walk in suitable weather.
There is something so solemn in
those lofty hills, with their waving
evergreens studding their sides even
to tho top; then tho ripplo of the
waters, and the songs of birds and
noises of insects, all unite in making
it anything bnt solitary. But yours
is tho only face I have ever seen
when hero, and I cannot bnt won
der l|bw you discovered this spot.”
“Guo of my pupils told mo of it,
and that day when I foil was my first
visit. Thankful am I that you were
in tiro habit of coining here, else 1
migh t havo died alone and unmissod.”
“Alone, I grant, but not umnissed;
your pupils love you, and surely wo all
would have sought yon, but wo might
not have thought of finding you
here.”
A long pause ensued, broken fin
ally by the following words spoken
in low, agitated tones:
“I would like to tell yon, dour
Miss Blauchc, how strongly attached
I have become to my tender nurse,
and how much I long for her to re
turn my devoted affection. Dearest,
can you love a person occupying so
humble a position as tutor to your
uncle’s children? If you can, and if
you will allow mo to present, my deep
lo^§, and consent to become my wife
it will bo the delight of my life to
strive to make yon happy.”
“I do love you, Mr. Hamilton,
and have from our first meeting. To
be your wifo will gratify my proud
est desires, but remember, while yon
are, as you say, only a tutor, I am of
all things most pitiful, a poor rela
tion, living upon tho cold charities
of my uncle’s family.”
“Yet well earning ahandsomo liv
ing, and far better lot by her use
fulness, and amiability. No longer
a poor relation, dearest, but my lov
ed and honored futuro wifo.”
Then as ho drew her towards him,
and their lips met, both felt that
they had chosen wisely and well.
No opposition was offered when
Mr. Hamilton asked tho hand of
Blanche Gilmore from her uncle, all
thinking that their poor relative did
well, even in marrying a tutor.
Mr. Hamilton wished to be mar
ried during the Christ mas holidays,
so early in December tin plain ward
robe Mr. Corsair thought prudent, to
give his niece was duly prepared, and
rapid preparations were being made
for a strictly private wedding. Mr.
Hamilton, being obliged to superin
tend some arrangements previous to
his marriage, resigned his position in
Mr. Corsair's family, much to the
surprise of all, and left tor a few
weeks to return the day of the wed
ding.
In the mean time, news came that
the Belmont owner was soon to take
possession of his property, and the
handsome house was undergoing
preparations for his reception. One
of his oddities was that oun the eve
ning of his return a lurge party of
friends from abroad, and the select
neighbors, were to assemble and bid
him welcome. This party, as it-hap-
pened, was to take plaeo the evoning
before the marriage of Blanche.
Cards of invitation bad been left at
Mr. Corsair’s, and, much,to the sur
prise and chagrin of Miss Zoe Blanche
was also remembered.
^if we wantedtff j nt^dnen
our poor relations!” she said, scorn
fully. “I wonder that the tutor also
was not included !”
Blanche, however, decided not to
go, but her uncle insisted upon her
accepting, “as it would look so
strange for one so spoil to be a bride
from their house to refuse.”
The evoning cume, and Zoo cer
tainly looked her best in tho rich
white silk with lace overskirt, and
rare flowers, that hud been procured
purposely for the long looked-for oc
casion of her hero’s arrival. She
gazed with a proud triumph upon
her cousin, who, in a simple, white
tarlatan, with a few natural buds in
her rich curls, wailed by her side in
the dressing-room of the Bellmont
mansion.
A young Dr. Z'mitiel, the village
DUBLIN, GEORGIA, WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 15, 1879.
NO Jo
physician, was their escort.
The rooms woro thronged, but,
singular to remark, tho young owner
had not as yet -mud© his appearance.
Tho guests wero received by his most
intimate frionds; Mr. and Mrs. Mot-
calf ; and the latter, us soon as
Blanche was introduced, managed to
draw her one side, and in another
moment Zoo wondered, ^is she saw
them leave tho rooms together.
A boil t half an hour later, after all
the guests had assembled, Mr. Mot-
calf announced that lie had something
to suy‘.
Ho wished, in the first place, to
apologize for tho mm-appoavanco of
his frioud, Mr. Bellmont; but Ihn
absence would bo understood and
forgiven, when ho told them that
tlvey lmd assembled to witness his
marriage; which would bo instantly
celebrated.
As those words were spoken, a
movement at tho door claimed atten
tion. An Episcopal clergyman, in
flowing robes, entered, followed by-
hold—could it bo ? Mrs. Corsair
looked at Zoo; Zoo looked, at Mrs.
Corsair; every vestige of color forsak
ing her face as she did so; while Mr.
Corsair staved in stupid wonder at
tho advancing bridegroom and bride
—Mr. Hamilton, tho tutor, and
Blanche Gilmoro, his own poor id
alive, Tho bridal party looked splen
didly; the bride, in the few moments
that lmd elapsed since her disappear
ance, had boon told the astounding
news that she was to marry the
wealthy Mr. Hamilton Bellmont;
and, although overwhelmed with
surprise, she suffered herself to be
arrayed by good Mrs. Metcalf in the
stiff white silk, with the richest-of
lace overskirts, while a superb bridal
vail and fragrant oraiigo (lowers com
pleted t ho toilet that hud boon
thoughtfully prepared for her use.
A moment sho wits held in tlPe arms
of her excited lover, nr.d then the
bridal party descended and the cer
emony was performed, and tho Cor
sairs wero obliged to smother their
rage and offer polite congratulations.
Tho evening passed rapidly, all
laughing merrily over (Tie glad sur
prise, and all proclaiming tliomsolvo<
delighted with Mrs. Bollinont’s good
fortune. We say all. and all it was
that went through tho outward forms
of etiquette, hut who shall describe
the inward workings of two hearts
present on that eventful evening?
Not we! Vain wore the attempt;
imagination alone oi'.n portray the
picture, and to imagination we com
mit the task.
Tho last wo heard of the »lmppy
pair was that they wero contemplat
ing a trip to Europe, while Zoo, who
lmd striven by hints and caresses to
obtain an invitation to accompany
them, was obliged to confess that
the baits she lmd put forth had not
succeeded, and she was llioroforo free
to remain still under her father’s
roof. No eligible rich millionaire
now being in view, she smiles rather
more upon young Dr. Zenmel than
formerly, and wo should not be sur
prised if, instead of marrying a per
son of unbounded wealth, sho became
tho wife of a poor and obacuro village
physician.
' When we think of the escape of
flic, rich Mr lioUmmit from her fas
cinating arts, wo rejoice, while at
the same time wo whisper this fact
secretly in the oar of our readers—
and wo hope they will not repeat it
to tho inevitable village gossip— Wc
pit// that doctor.
THE NEGROES HE A Rl>
PROM.
An Indignant Protest Against
the Radical Scheme of Disfran
chisement.
The Leo Monument Association,
chartered by the Legislature of Vir-
giini for the purpose of erecting in
Richmond a monument to General
Robert E. Lee, proposes to take up
on his birthday—tho lfith of Janu
ary—a collection throughout the
South, in aid of its undertaking.
It is suggested ulso that enter
tainments bo given throughout the
South on tho night of tho 19th for
the same object. Tit© association
1ms a largo sum on baud, but not
enough to erect a fitting monument.
P . B. 8. Pinch’nck'* AVir OrtmiiH Loitm-
a n iii ii.
Now that events have proved that
the giving Of the ballot to the negro
was not a successful adjunct of re
construction, and does not tend to
increase the numerical strength of
tho Republican party in the hulls of
Congress, wc find Northern newspa
pers, “stalwart” journals, trying to
mould public sentiment to secure the
disfranchisement of tin* negro. Not
only is it proposed to eliminate the
representation of 200,000 blacks, in
South Carolina, Mississippi and Lou
isiana, but other suggestions have
been mado that, tiro whole race, or
rather that piu*t of it. who happen to
live on SontiuMui territory, slmll sharo
tho same fator
Those are remarkable suggestions, ,
ami tend to show to what an extreme
our Northern sympathizers will go in
their mad effort, to curtail Southern
power and infiuoroo in national leg
islation. Of course wo understand
that their sympathies are still with
us, find that this proposition is based
upon tho belief thatwearo not treat
ed properly by those in power in our
home governments. In other words
that wc are Republicans from convic
tion, and would vote the Republican
ticket and elect Republican ropresen-
t lives if wo could do so without fear
or mole 'tatioii. As we cannot do'
this wi.hoiit risk to person or prop
erty, they contend that bocaiiso
“bulldozing” and “white-lining” is
responsible for this state of affairs,
communities where this species of
iiitUiiidnl ion is practiced must suffer.
If we cannot' exorcise the rights of
citizenship now, will wo be likely to
do so when stripped-of its privileges?
No ; that kind of argument will hot
do. The cruelty practiced by one
section will not justify desertion on
tluj part of the other. Between the
two, we would rather endure cruelty
willi its attendant hardships, than
desertion with its baleful influences
and effects. Oruolty to class or color
can bo stopped by healthy and judi
cious oxoroiso of constitutional power
on thd part of tho General Govern
ment. There.must bo no middlo or
half-way ground, however. No ca
tering to tho morbid sentiments of
unity, fraternity and poace, while
justice is denied and protection with
held. Tho bliiok men of the South
have not deserved this kind of treat
ment, nor have their actions merited
this kind of suggestions. Our
friends must romomber that these
outrages are not practiced because
we arc block, but meroly because wo
differ politically from thoso around
us. How very easy it is for us to
stop this cry of intimidation, Whitt
a spectacle it would bo to see our
Northern friends lowering the ‘blood-
y shirt’ which they have flaunted so
long and well. Wo warn them nrft
to lot thojr suggestions take tho
form of JogesJation. (W own pre
servation might loud us to vote tho
Dornocriitio fciokot without boing
di iven to do so by moans of violence.
Let us hear no more, then, of the
disfranchisement of the negro on the
part of the North. Wc feel quite
sure the first effort in this direction
will not come from tho South.
Grandfather: “My eon, which
would you rather have when you go
home—a little brother or sister?”
Grandson : “Well, I would rather
have a little pony.”
As the happy couple were leaving
the church the husband said to the
partner of his wedded life:
“Marriage must seem a dreadfiil
thing M youVWhy you were nil of a
tremble, and no one could hardly
hoar you say, H'Will.’. re ifn i
“I will have more
it louder next time,’
■ui
ml
ing bride.
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