Newspaper Page Text
VOL. 1.
DUBLIN, GEORGIA, WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 22,1879.
NO 31
BEAUTIFUL HANDS.
A king who was noble, just and good,
Once, in a royal whim or mood,
Sent summons out to a grand affair.
Inviting all ladies to be there.
“Come one, come all I” so the mandate read
"The light of your love and beauty shed
On my birth-day fete, but ’tis my com
mand
That I shall see each and every hand.
To the hand most beautiful, 1 declare,
I will show all honor then and there 1
Now the ladies of my realm, come all,
With your presence, fair ones, grace my
ball.”
For weeks before that eventful night
Thousands of bauds were bleaching white;
And those who had faithfully worked
before
With their folded fair hands toiled no
more.
Well pleased but grave was the king that
night,
As the brilliant forms in the brilliant light
Low bowed before him and then passed
Till, among the last the king’s keen eye
Rested upon a glove-clad hand.
"Woman," he said in his auger, "stand!
Remove the covering, tell me why
You have dared to shun my wary eye?"
With a flushing face and low-bowed head,
With a modest mien the fair culprit said:
"I am not rebellious, my liege beloved,
Because you command I came, and gloved;
For I hoped among.tho.se fairer than I,
Unchecked, unnoticed, to pass you by.”
The hand before him was clean not
white,
By far the roughest he saw that night.
She said “I am. mother of girls and boys,
I join in their games and play with their
toys;
My husband, oh king, is a son of the soil
And l am his wife ! I assist in his toil.
All over your realm you know, Prince, is
spread
Many an aged and suffering head.
Tho’ we are not rich we are-not so poor
That the hungry unfed should be scut
from tlie door.”
The good king answered, "Here honor is
due,
Go bring your husband, liis wife is true.
1 have searched throughout my princely
land.
• And at last have found the most beauti
ful baud.
The hand of true mother, the hand of true
wife,
The pitying hand of a merciful life. '
The fuirest of hands, decked iu glitter
ing lieads,
Compare not to-this hand, thus gemmed
with good deeds!”
A HARD MAN.
It was a poor rqo n scantily fur
nished, bearing poverty’s signs in the
miserable fire, the pinched air of
every object, anil in nothing more
conspicuous than the haggard, care
worn face of its only occupant. She
• was a woman middle-aged but with
a face that needed only, health and
brightness to be beautiful. Her
hair of golden brown, waving, glos
sy and abundant, was gathered into
a knot at the back of a small, shape
ly head, and was as yet untouched
by age or trouble.
Although her sunken eyes and
hollow cheeks spoke eloquently of
over-work, she was not working, but
listening. The snow struck against
the glass as it fell with a sharp tinkle
that told of bitter cold, but it was
not for that Mrs. Burlington held
her breath almost to listen, but for
foot steps that came at last. She
hoped the feet would spring up the
staircase, light us ii fairy’s, and her
eyes dilated, with fear as they came
slowly, heavily, as if under abnrden.
“Something has happened!” she
whispered. “Alma has mot trouble!”
The door opened as she spoke, and
a girl entered, a winsome copy of her
beautiful mother, ujion whose fair
face trouble had not drawn its heav
iest lines. But the face was very pale
as she came in, and putting her bun
dle upon a chair, looked ut her moth
er with despairing eyes.
“You have brought the bundle
back, Alnm,” Mrs. Burlington said
in a tone of absolute terror. “Did
Mrs. Thornton find fault with the
work?”
The girl paused before answering,
as if her news was so heavy bIio jlared
not tell it. Then, iu a husky voice,
•she said:
“The cloak is ruined, mother, and
they say we did it!”
“Ruined,” cried Mrs. Burlington
tearing open the package. “Oh,
Alma! child! how did that happen?”
For she held up an infant’s cloak
of fine merino, embroidered heavily
in white silk, daintily lined and fin
ished, a garment fit only for a child
of wealth. But across the entire
back was a stain of several different
colors, a great unsightly blotch, that
made the exquisite garment utterly
valueless.
“I cannot tell you how it happen
ed, but they say we did it! I sent
the parcel up to Mrs. Thornton and
waited in the hall. I heard voices
in the sitting-room, at the head of
the staircase, but I could not distin
guish any words, till the servant
told me to go up stairs. There I
found Mrs. Thornton and her daugh
ter holding up the cloak, with that
stain upon it. They scolded me,
and sent the cloak buck!”
“How could the stain have come
there unless you dropped it?”
“Into what? A dye vat would
not have given all those bright col
ors. I cannot tell what it is! Oh,
mother what are we to do? I—I
went to Mr. Vaughn’s, and told him
exactly what had happened, and lie
—mother, I know he did not believe
me—he said I must not come again
for materials till the last bill is paid.”
“How can we ever pay it with the
cloak thrown back upon our hands?
Thirty dollars! Oh, Alina how often
have I spent four times that upon
useless trifles, and never thought of
it again! Child, we must starve!”
She spoke the last word with a
despairing sob, and sat down, cover
ing her face with her shaking hands.
“I told Mr. Vaughn so mother, but
he is a hard man, just anil upright,
but strict. He said if he once estab
lished such a precedent as to allow
this bill to increase, he would have
all the embroiderers asking similar
favor. Don’t sob so, mother! Some
way will open. Perhaps we can
clean the cloak, and get. a trifle for
it, or have it dyed and sell it. Don’t
—<>h, don’t cry so! It breaks my
heart!”
But having once allowed the tears
to start, Mrs. Burlington could not
at once control them. All through
the long evening mother and daugh
ter, suppcrless and chilled, talked of
the misfortune that seemed the cli
max of throe years of toil and suffer
ing. They had been thrown from
luxory to poverty by the death of
Alma's father, but hud muiugcd to
live by their needles until Mrs. Bur
lington’s health failed. After that
it was a sore struggle, but Alma,
though only fifteen when her father
died, was brave and industrious, and
and worked doubly hard
Their chief employment was iu or
dered work for the wealthy class,
and the cloak represented three weeks
of incessant labor. Mr. Vaughn, who
kept the store where the work was
ordered, and supplied with materials
was, as Alina said, a man perfectly
just, but most strict iu all business
dealings.
He was a bachelor past fifty, liv
ing alone in a largo, handsome house
controlled by a house-keeper who
kept the servants iu order. His bus
iness was not largo, .-but ho lield
wealth in real estate and worthed
harder than any clerk he employed
to keep his affairs in the most pros
perous state.
On the evening when Alma and
her mother sat in their poor room,
wondering vaguely if they must
starve literally, Mr. Vaughn sat in
his cosy, well warmed library busy
with heavy ledgers. But his thoughts
would wander from the long rows of
figures to the brown eyes of Alina
Burlington, sorrow-laden and en
treating, as he lmd lust seen them.
“I wonder if that absurd story
could be true,” he muttered at lust,
pushing back his books; what slight
of hand could have ruined the cloak
in the time it pissed up the staircase!
Stop a minute! That was the in
fant's cloak Jane ordered! I wonder
now if I could got nnv solution of
the mystery by going up there.”
This idea once started in his busy
brain, Mr. Vaughn could not rest
till he tostod its value. Jano Thorn
ton was his only sister, and Ilia
nieces and nephews were probably
inhoritorsof all his wealth, so he was
sure of a cordial welcome whenever
he wont there. His pot of all was
Jennio, a beautiful girl of sixteen,
whose jewel-box bore witness to her
uncle’s indulgence of all her whims.
Hard ns he was in business relations,
.Mr. Vaughn’s heart has many a ten
der spot, and none more tender than
tho niche where ho carried Jennie’s
image. He believed her as pure,
true, and womanly as she was lovely
iu face and form.
“If I cannot do any better,” he
thought, “I will lot Jontiie find out
about that poor girl and help her.
She is never so happy as when I let
her help the poor. Dear, goncrous
girl!”
But when he arrived at his sister’s,
he found Mrs. Thornton and Jennie
had gone with Mr. Thornton to a
concert. Bob was at homo, doing
sums, and he dragged his undo into
the sitting-room.
“Wait a little while uncle,” he
urged, “and mother \vill # be in. Sho
said I might sit up, so she’s sure not
to bo late.”
So the uncle took off his overcoat
and sat down. Upon the table Bob’s
school-books were spread, and
amongst them a large sheet of paste
board with a map on it. But the
outlines were all smeared, and the
map almost illegible.
“That is not. a very nice piece of
work, Bob,” Mr. Vaughn said tak
ing it up. “I am afraid Bob you
won’t get any praise for that. ”
“That is all Jetmids fault,” said
Bob; “hut she did the cutest trick
you over'heard ot afterwards.”
“What was that!”
“Why this afternoon I finished
my map, and spread it out here on
the table to dry. It was awful wet,
for I alway* do plaster the colors on
thick. Well, it was here drying,
when a sowing-girl came with a new
cloak for the baby, and what docs
Jennie do but throw it over this ta
ble. Yon ought to have seen it
when she snatched it up again, all
red, blue, yellow, green and black.
Mother commenced to scold uio for
leaving the map there, but Jennie
stopped her, and whispered to keep
quiet, and she need never pay for
the cloak. She just whipped the map
into the table drawer as quick as
winking, scut Ann for tho sewing-
girl, and gave her the greatest blow
ing up you ever heard, for daring to
bring home tiic cloak iu that state.
1 nearly choked laughing over the
girl’s face. She looked all over the
room, as if she thought the colors
had rained down from the ceiling,
and she'stammered and stuttered us
if she was going to be killed. And
Jennie stormed and fumed till she
fairly drove her out of the house,
bundle aud all. Then she laughed
till she bad to sit down.”
“You think it was fun then, to
swindle the girl out of the price of
of weary weeks of labor?” usked Mr.
Vaughn, sternly.
Tho boy looked up, fri«l»>A«od «t
the angry voice.
“1 did not think of that,” he said.
“I suppose It was rough on the girl!”
“You are but a boy!” his undo
said, “and might he excused for
thoughtlessness.” Then he paused.
It would scarcely do to tell Bob his
opinion of Mrs. Thornton aud Jen
nie. lie was fairly sick with the
keen pain of this “cute trick” of his
•favorite niece. A man of rigid in
tegrity, the thought of his own share
in the cruelty that pressed upon Al
ma Burlington was almost unendur
able. Scarcely hearing Bob’s piteous
entreaties that he would remain, he
put on his coat and hut and went out
again into the driving storm.
Mrs. Burlington and Alina were
still up, counting by the Ijght of a
candle their limited stock of materi
als to seo if some tviflo conld ho man
ufactured to earn a dollar or two,
when a knock at tho door was fol
lowed by, the entrance of Mr.
Vaughn. Mrs. Burlington shrank
hack iiito deeper shadow as ho camo
into the room, but Alma stood up to
greet him.
“Miss Burlington,” ho said, ab
ruptly, “I have just learned the
truth of your trouble this morning,
and have como for tho cloak. You
inqst blamo a careless hoy for the
milhup. What were you to rccicve?”
“Fifty dollars, sir of which I owe
yott thirty.”
“Yes—yes that can wait till the
next order. You need not hurry
about that.”
“Oh, mother!”, the gill cried, al
most hugging tho crisp notes, “how
can we thank Mr. Vaughn!”
The gentleman turned to tho cor
ner where Mrs. Burlington Bat, and
in a second advanced hurriedly to
wards her.
“Am I mistaken?” lie oried; “or
is this Edith Loeompton?”
‘‘That was my name long ago,”
was tho answer, in a tone of quiet
dignity.
“I know now why your daughter’s
face always seems so familiar. May
I sit down?”
Blushing deeply for her own omis
sion of such an invitation, Alma
placed a chair for their visitor, and,
in a little time, drawn out by his
respectful kindness, Mrs. Burling
ton had told him cf her father’s
death, her husband’s failure in bus
iness, sickness aud death, and their
own struggles.
“And you did not lot mo know,”
Mr. Vaughn said, reproachfully, “or
perhaps’you did not know I had left
West and settled here ?”
“I was not sure you were my old
friend,” she said gently, “and I
would hot trouble you.”
“But qow—you will let me he
your friend now 1 have found you
out?”’
“You have proved so already,”
said Alma, impetuouslv. “Mamma
I must toll him. We have hot one
cent except this,” and she held up
the notes he hud just given her, “and
we have not eaten anything since
breakfast; Now—oh! yon do not
guess how we can work now!”
“And you will come to me, will
you not, if I can in any way servo
yon?” Mr. Vaughn asked eagerly.
“I will,” Alma promised.
“Then I will say good-uight. 1
liavo your daughter’s promise!” said
the visitor, cordially shaking Mrs.
Bui lington’s hand. Then he added
in a low tone: “Surely Heaven guid
ed my stens to-night, Edith!”
He left her thou, and Mrs. Bur
lington wept softly, thinking of
their last parting, when he asked
her to shurc his life, and she, wor
shipping James Burlington’s hand
some face, refused the hand of tho
less favored lover. Twenty years
ago! Pride had kept her from ever
seeking her old admirer when she
was sure from Alma’s description
that the Mr. Vuuglm who supplied
their materials was the same Dick
Vaughn who hud loft her old West
ern home after she refused to he his
wife.
, »,cmm Aima only time he was
an old friend, smiling softly as the
girl expressed her surprise at tho
change in one sho had considered
ever strict and stern.
“He was not a hit like himself,
mamma,” she said. “His voice was
as gentle as a woman’s. “I should
never think of culling him a ‘hard
man’ after this evening. I think I
cun find something to eat if you will
keep up tho fire, and then we will
sloop.”
“Don’t go far, dear. It is late,”
said Mrs. Burlington; and Alina
promised haste.
Bnt it was the last time tho girl
had to face storm and darkness for
food.
Dick Vaughn, memory once busy,
found that the wan, wasted face of
Edith Burlington lmd the same pow
er ovor his matured,.but otnpty heart,
as tho blooming, liappy Edith Lo-
compton had had over his youthful
one. Business excuses were framed
to account for frequent visits to the
poor rooms, luorative orders were
sent or carried, and tho sad heart of
the widow, brightened under tho dol-
ieato, thoughtful attentions of her
old friend. Every day somo new
proof of his onro for her touched her
gratitude and affection, till, when the
long, weary w inter was over, and lie
lusked her if she could not at last
reward tho lovo that had never turn
ed from her, sho knew that she could
answer it by tho truo lovo in her own
heart.
There was no display at the wed
ding, only a quiet walk to church,
and from there to the grand houso to
he desolate and lonoly no longer.
And Mi'b. Thornton’s deep vexa
tion over tho fact of her brother’s
marriago, was only equalled by her
amazement when introduced to his
step-daughter.
“I—surely have seen you' before?”
she said, us graciously us possible, for
after all, it was hotter to keep on
good terms with Dick.
“Yes,” said her brother dryly,
“the last time that you saw Miss
Burlington was the day whou Jennio
threw the baby’s cloak, she had em-
broidorcd. upon Bob’s wot school
map.”
And Alma, pitying tho confusion
and dismay upon Mrs. Thornton’s
face, added gently :
“Lot us forget all that now! Will
you como to my room, Jennio, and
take off your hat ? We are cousins,
arc wo not, and good friends?”
And Jcimio cnupliod, though to
this day site assures her mother—
“Undo Dick has never been just
tho same to me since that horrid
cloak business. 1 have found out
now what people mean when tlioy
cull him a‘hard man.’”
Strange Things About Churches.
That they never forget to take up
a collection.
That short sermons urc always tho
most effecting.
That every one trios to he tho last
one out when services are ovor.
That no preaohor over neglected to
tell tITo story of the Prodigal Son.
That the woman with a new bon
net and the young man with a high
collar always occupy front seats.
That the “squirt” with a pretty
girl has to walk the whole length of
an aisle before ho cun get a scut.
That the smart had hoy always
gets red iu the faco when his father
or big sister gets up to tell their ex
perience.
That sonic good deacon always guts
up, just before the collection, and
says something about the “poor hea
then.”
That the man who starts the hymns
on the old-fashioned plan, thinks all
the psulms should be sung to the
same tune.
That the “man of the world” who
helps to sing the doxology imagines
he is taking an active interest in his
ooi.ro rutivaclon.
That some people take more pride
in saying they “haven’t been to
church in two years than others do
in declaring they haven’t missed a
Sunday for seven years. ”
That the young man who hasn’t
hod a cent iu the past two months,
goes through every pocket while the
contribution bosket is going around,
then asks a man in the next seat if
he can change a V.
Texas has 1,700 convicts, fiOO of
whom urc kept within the wull, and
the rest are hired out to work on
railroads and farms.
Colored Senator Bruce, of Missis'
sippi, is making reputation for him
self as a very sensible and conserva
tive mau.
Wouldn’t Marry a Mechanic.
A young man commenced visiting
a young woman, and appeared to bo
well pleased. One evening he call
ed when it was quite late, which led
tho young lady to inquire where ho
had been.
“I had to work to-night.”
“What., do yon work for a living?”
sho inquired in astonishment.
“Certainly,” replied tho young
man, “I am a mechanic.”
“I disliko tho name of a mechan
ic,” and sho turned up her pretty
noso.
This was tho last time tho young
maii visited tho young lady. He is
now a wealthy man, and has one of
the host wonion in the country for a
wife.
The young lady who disliked llio
name of a mechanic is now the wifo
of a miserable fool—a regular va-
grunt about grog shops—and tho
Hoft, verdant, silly, miserable girl,
is obliged to take in washing in or
der to support herself and children.
You disliko tho nainQ of Mechanic,
oh?
—You whoso brothers are but
well-dressed loafers. We pity any
girl who is so verdant, so soft* to
think less of a young man for being
a moclmnio—one of God’s noblemen
—tho mos,t dignified and honorable
personage of heaven's creatures.
Beware, young ladies how.,,you
treat young men who work for a giv
ing, for you may ono of these days
ho a menial to ono of them. Far hot
ter to discharge the well fed pauper
with all his rings, jewelry, braston-
ness ami pomposity, and tukotoyoiu*
affection, tho hard-handed, industri
ous mechanic.
Thousands have bitterly rerouted
thoir folly who liavo turned their
bucks on Inmost industry. A few
years liavo taught tliom a sovoro les
son. ^
An Englishman, Irishman and
Scotchman, were found guilty ‘ '6f
murder, and wore sentenced to bo
hung. Tlio Judgo told them they
could each choose tho tree on which
they would like to bo hung. Tho
Scotchman promptly choso an ash
tree and tho Englishman an oak.
“Well, Put, what do you choose?”
“If it plouso your honor, I would
rather ho hung on a gooseberry hush.”
.“Oh,” said tho Judgo, “that’s not
large onougli.” “Bogorru,” said Pat,
“I’ll wait till it grows.”
Among various other things, Gov
ernor Robinson of New York, in liis
message to the State Senate, says
that the number of insane porsot.s
in that State has increased by busi
ness loses and disuppointipontfc al
most beyond tho power of the State
to provide for. lie also calls atten
tion to the danger of permitting
Federal interference at oloctioiis to
pass unrebuked, and calls for . a
prompt aud fearless protest from the
Legislature.
The Favoritism to Fred,
New York Sun.
This unwarranted favoritism to
young Grant will sorvo to[wake the
very namo of Grant—us] the syno
nym of an upstart hereditary nobility
—hated and abhorred by tho massoi
of tho American people.
Mary’K Lamb.
CIUNBHK.
Was gal named Moll bad lamb.
Flea all Mince wbitee snow,
Evly place Moll gal walkee,
Da ba hoppee long too.
iiiian.
Begorry, Mary bad a little shape,
And tlie wool was white entirely,
And wherever Mary would stir her gthumps
The young shape would follow her conp
platcly.
women.
La petite Marie hail le June muttong,
Zo wool was blancboc as ze snow,
And everywhere la belle Marie went,
Le jano muttong was sure tq go.
DKUTSCHK.
Dot Mary liaf got ein little abaf,
Mit luiir yust like some wool, ’-wwi
lind all liar place «l«t pi I did void,
Dat sliaf go like ein fog),
