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.-A-X-05 VOJu.l. DUBLIN, GEORGIA, WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 26, 1879. nrrr-r—: BEA&TIFUL BANDS. t Such beautiful, beautiful hands ! They’re neither white nor small, And you,. I know, would scarcely think That they were fair at all. I’ve looted on hands whose form and hue A sc niptUr^ Aream might be, Yet are these aged, wrinkled hands, . Most beautiful to me. Such beautiful, beautiful hands ! Though lienrt were weary ang sad, These patient hands kept toiling on . Tbat25©S3xjJfia){^it be glad. I almost weep, as, looking back To childhood's distant day, I think how these hands rested not, When mine were at their play. But oh / beyond this shadowy land— Where all is-bright and fair, I know full well those dear old hands Will palms of victory bear ; Where ciyptal streams third’ endless time, Flow^over golden braids. And where tlmpld grow young again, I’ll clasp ifiyiiriothetf’s bands. TH 111 COUNT’S REVENGE. uvi83—there was enact- r in Fruned tlmt caused' a In the vi cd a tragbt great deal of wonder und comment; not on the account of the tragedy, for similar were of -frequent occur rence, but because the affair remain ed a profound mystery. On a night in the fall of the year above mentioned, an Englishman and Mlffi|ifn|ian—the latter well knowtiljilli'famous duelist; and gam bler—were engaged at card playing at a quiet- saloon in Bordeaux. The Englishman had been drink ing -freely* and, carried away by success at first, he played higher and higher. After a time his luck chang ed, and lie lost fai more than he had gainqd- One by one the lookers-on at the game dispersed, and only the two men remained in the room. " .* Cool and culm, the Frenchman saw his opponent growing more desper ate, till, as a last chance, the latter placed his watch at stake, audit, like the rest of his valuables, was lost.* The French gambler arose, and us he coolly placed his gains in hispock- et, the Englishman rushed at him, and, in u frenzy of despair and mad ness, '•clutched him by the throat, and in a threatening voice demand ed fair play. Tlie' Frenchman quickly drew a pistol, and aimed at the English man’s head. At the same instant the latter released his hold, and drawing a like weapon they fired simultaneously. Without a word the Frenchman,, us if dead, fell heavily upon the floor/. , Struck dumb with horror the Englishman, only slightly wounded, gazed on the gliustly sight before him: “Dead? Oh, heaven forgive mo!” he cried iii a voice of deepest unguish and the. next instant lied through a window, and his retreating form was lost, in darkness. A few winds will describe the Englishman. His name wus Gordon Dumoiit. He was u tall, vigorous and active man, about thirty-five years of age Not many days before the above tragedy he had left his home in Lon don, for Paris, where lie went on bus- • » *djP v~'. .V * -• i' ... 1UC8S. With fond kisses and bright hopes lie parted from his youug wife and beautiful child—a daughter about six years .old. By an accident he was 6oihpoiled to visit and remain for some hours at Bordeaux; to kill time ho li;(U looked oh at a few games of cards, but so fascinating became the sight that* lie,, too, soon became engaged iu the fatal amusement, with the above consequences. As Dumont fled .from his fallen foe, Iradid not notice a dark figure spring across his his path; but, filled with terror; he rushed ou without one backward glance. The figure, much startled by the hasty exit of Dumont, hurried iuto the room the latter hud jnst left, and stood over the prostrate guinbler. Noticing u slight quiver about the irflb closed eyelids of the wounded man, ho placed his hand over his heart, and with a smothered exclamation the new-comer ejaculated: “He is not dead as the English man believed—but he soon shall be!” and suiting the action to tho word he thrust a double-edged stiletto twice through tiio gambler’s heart. “The Englishman may answer for this; but, wait—wluithave we here?” and as he muttered he emptied the pockets of tho dead gambler and their contents. The Englishman’s watch he seized also; and hearing footsteps in the hall without, the thief and assassin bounded through the window'and was in the street outside before the waiters, startled by pistol shots, entered the room. Consternation and horror wore on the men’s faces as they beheld the shocking sight. Search was imme diately bognn for the missing Eng lishman, as it was certain that he alone had murdered and then robbed the gambler; For months tho search for Dumont was long and vigilant—no trace of him was ever .found. As wo know, the assassin had tak en fhe Englishman’s watch, and the 1 hiding of that clew saved his name from being known, and finally the murder beemno a mystery never to he solved. Thus time fled on till the sequel we are about to relate oc curred. Twelve years after tho mysterious assassination, Claude de Gaston, a young French noble, fell deeply in love with a most beautiful English girl. At the time at which we write they were together in an elegant apartment in Paris. They were in earnest conversation. Claude was intensely excited, and spoke hurried ly. whileJiis companion replied in deepest, sadness. Claude ‘at lust, ex claimed: “Estelle, you little dream what you do. To cast aside my love is a crime! You have professed to love me—you do love me! Then why discard me? Ah, toll me, darling— give me a reason! or I must believe by your actions that yon prefer my cousin to me !” Receiving no reply ho continued in a bitter tone: “Perhaps his greater wealth and title tempt you; but remember, Es telle, I urn not a man to forget a love so soon, or forgive a woman who could' treat a passion like miue with such lightness!” The girl made no reply, but. tears fell like purest gems from her violet eyes and gaining hope from her silence and tears, the young mini continued in a pleading tone: “Oh, think once again before you give your final answer! for, oh! dar ling, sweet Estelle, my own, say this Jias all been a cruel joke! You are mine, heart and mind—you must, marry me or I shall die!” “Claude, Claude! have pity oi) me! If you do truly love me yon will not force me co repeat what makes me more than miserable! I can never marry yon! Fate!—neither love, fame or f< rtnne—has bound me to your cousin! ' I love only you and that more than life; but I cannot marry you nor can I tell yon why !” Overcome with grief and excite ment the speaker buried her tearful face in her hands, and moaned ulond as she sank to a seat, Her attitude was one of deepest supplication and agony; but no pity was'in the face of the proud man, who stood with his arms tightly folded across his breast, while his eyes flashed scorn and bit terness on the beautiful bead bowed in sorrSw before him. Coldly he said: “Estelle, I have loved you as only a strong, possiouate nature could love; my faith in you has been in tense; but now, both love and faith -.-sweet jewels—are lost, and my happiness has turned to ashes, like dead-sea fruit, on my lips!” With these bitter and ernel words he slowly bft her presence-. She heard his footsteps die into silence, but still the wretched girl restrained her desire to rush after him and cling to him forever. “Gone—and gone forever!” she sobbed. “Cun I lot him leave me? No, no! Love!—life!—mv darling, Claude, come back!” But only tho echo of her own sad voice replied to her appeal. Horn’s passed before Estollo Du mont moved from where Claude de Gaston loft* her. At. last she was aroused by the ontrance-of her fath er. Ho was an old man of seventy in appearance, this Gordon .Dumont, bnt Time was not the hand that, had aged him so. Mental agony had in twelve short yoars made a wreck of a onee noble and handsome man. Twelve years before we saw him fleeing in the darkness—a fugitive from justice—a murderer ho believ ed he was. For weeks and months he hud lain hidden, nor dared show himself by day. He hourly expected to be caught, and greatly wondered that ho hud escaped so long that sleuth-hound—the secret police at Paris. This may be explained, as the Search for him was carried to England. The police imagined lie had fled for his native land, and, therefore, the Search was less. vigi lant in France than it was in Eng land, and by this good fortune lie was enabled to escape. When lie and his wife met, after months of separation, neither would have recognized the other had they met on the street, so changed they had both grown. The wife had pas sed a living death. To know that, her dearly love.I husband was, in dan ger of his life, and not he able to commnnieuto with him, though she received letters from him at rare in tervals, had nearly kjlled^hor, and she grew to be a mere shadow of her once beautiful self. And he? Remorse, grjqf, terror and anguish of soul iiad turned his hair and beard to a snowy whiteness while his broad shoulders had become bowed as with the weight of three score years. Two years after their reunion, tho unhappy man was left a widower, with only his little daughter Estelle to love and live for. And now after twelve years, we see father and daughter together. Estelle was a beautiful and fasci nating woman, and her adoring father almost worshiped her. She loved him as intensely, and she knew that only her devotion kept him alive she would have made any sacrifice for his safety or happiness. Wealthy, beautiful and brilliant, her admirers and suitors were nu merous. Among them was Dc Gas ton and his cousin, the Comte D’Arches. For two months Estelle had ac cepted and returned Claude’s ardent love. With no thought of aught that couid disturb them, they revel ed in the joy of their newfound happiness, till they wore rudely awakened from their dream of bliss by the proposal of the Comte D’Arches for Estelle’s hand, and the result of the proposal was the cause (jf Ahe su'd parting of the lovers. When the comte proposed to Du mont, the latter, knowing* well the reputation of the comte os a roue, politely refused the proffered honor. He had an undefitiable dread of the comte, and was only too glad that Estelle’s heart was already occupied, so that when comte asked a reason for the refusal ho gave it. Mortified, bnt not surprised, the comte determined to have his wish at every risk, and he prepared to carry out a plot he hud already ar ranged in the case he was refused by Mr. Dumont. He knew that Estelle did not prefer him to his cousin, but that fact caused him little uneasi ness, as he felt sure that, once his wife the lovely woman could not with-hold her love. The plot of the comte was success ful, as we shall sec. Ho took all Gordon Dumont said to him with a Scornful smile, hut soon he began to speak, and his oyes 'glittered when he saw tho effeot. his words had on the old man. Filled with consternation Dumont listened while the comte declared that lie lmd boon present at the killing of the French gambler at Bovdennx, twelve years before ! (CbkbtUDED NEXT WEEK.) The Great City of London. It covers within tho fifteen miles riidins from Charing Cross nearly so von hundred square miles. H numbers within those bounda ries'four million inhabitants. It comprises one hnndrod thousand foreigners from every quarter of the globe. It contains moro Roman Catholics than Rome itself, moro Jews than the whole of Palestine, moro Irish than Dublin, more Sootchmcn than Edinburgh, more Welchmen than Cardiff, and more country-born per sons than tho counties of Devon, War wickshire and Durham combined. It, has a birth in it evory fivo min utes, a death in it every eight minutes and sovon accidents oVory day in its seven thousand miles of streets. It has on an average twenty-eight, miles of new streets opened and nine thousand now houses built in it every year. It 1ms one thousand ships and nine thousand sailors in its port every day. It has an influence with all parts oi! the world, represented by tho yearly delivery in its postal districts of two hundred mid thirty-eight million letters. Remarkable Works of Human Labor. Ninovali was 14 miles long, 8 milos wide and 46 miles round, with a wall 100 feet h’gli, and thick enough for 3 oliariots abreast. Babylon was ‘ 50 mile& within the walls, which were 75 feet thick and 100 foot high, with 100 brazen gates. The Temple of Diana, at Ephesus, was 420 foot to the support of tho roof ; it was one hundred years in building. Tlielar gest of the pyramids was 481 feet in height, and 953 feet on the sides; the base covers 11 acres; the stones aro about 60 feet imlength, and tlie layers tire 208 ; it employed 320,000 men in tho building. Tho labyrinth in Egypt contained 300 chambers and 12 halls. Thebes, in Egypt, presents ruins 27 miles round and 100 gates. Carthage was 29 miles r:mnd. Athens was 25 miles round and con tained 350,000 citizens and 410,000 slaves. Tho Templo of Delphos was so rich in donations that it was plun dered of 1(50,000,000, und Nero car ried away from it 200 statues. The walls of Rome were 13 miles round. When we hear that a man has killed himself by excessive bruin- .Work, wo tool Mini, van uhmilrl UU have the witnesses in court in order that we might rigidly cross-examine tiicm. What sort of work was it ? Wus it brain-work pure, or was it mixed up with anxioty, worryjand excitement? What were the man’s habits ? Did lie indulge overmuch in what are called stimulants ? Did ho deprive himself of a just allotment of sleep ? If all these questions could be asked and answered, wo suspect it would be found that tho man who is supposed to have died of excessive mental energy, died rather of want of fresh air .and exercise, of too much fire-water in some form or another, of horrible financial embar rassment,’ of late hours, and of ex citements other than those Which pure work breeds in the human brain. A prating, tedious speaker finally asked a Sunday school which he had been boring beyond endurance: “Wlmt’is the meaning of the phrase, ‘God tempers the wind to tho shorn lamb?’ ” “It means that Ho stops off folks that are two long winded,” replied a smart boy. A hymn was then sung. ; BILL ARP’S SUNDAY CHAT. Fifteen Years Buck with Tecum- seli Sherman. [Atlanta Constltutbn.] I hud jnst finished roudin of it and was rumiimtin, when my nabor Free man come in. It carried mo back about fifteen voui's to tho time whovf they come along through this same beautiful region and destroyed overy- thing in their pathway. I thought about prarie fires and Mississippi hur ricanes and avalanches and tho pgbik lenoo that wulkoth at noonday. I thought about womoii and children made homeless and desolate,. unci driven away to wandor in search of food und shelter and' a hiding place. I don’t think about those things ofton, for tho old sore has got well, but, then, tho soar is ilioro, and tliores a weak spot in the liono tfiidor- neatli, and it takes tho rumutios whenever anything huppons to fresh en up ‘the horrors of t hat march to tho sea. Well, I was jnst a ruminntin when my intbor eotno in, mid, somehow or other wo got to tulkiu about dogs. Freeman said some of om had sense and memory und resentment jnst like human people. That his dog Dixy nover molostod anybody without pro vocation, lint would walk up to oni when they como insido the gato and smell around and keep his oyoon cm toll they got insido tho house. He was -a monstrous savage lnokin dog, and every ono that come in would mnoh him up a little for fear of urtoideiits. One day a stranger came along and instead of mucliin.him up. shook his stick at. him; Dixy made for him like killiti shakos. They had it rough and tumble for a good while, and Dixy tore the hind sights off of him, and would have whipped him, but uuothor feller run in, and betwoon cm they mauled the dog mighty nigh to death; Well, Dixy nover saw that man ur.y moro for several years, but ono day*ho oorne along, (“Old Toctimp,” said I,) “I disremomhor his name,” said ho, and ho wanted to come in again on so mo business or. other, (“iron works,” said I.) and as he didn’t have a stick he commenced much in up the dog and whistlin little turtle-dove notes to him, hut.tho dog knowd him tho very minuifc ho put his oyes on him. There was no disturbance, for wc were all about, but that dog never did get reconciled to that man. “Old Tecutnp,” said I. “No,” said lie, “that waseiit tho name. What makes you koopcallin him Tecump?” “Well, I couldent tell you prozaet- ly,” said I, but I’Ve just finished roudin the poroosal of Mr. Sherman’s letter, and Ive got your dog story and tho letter so mixed up together I cunt tell tother fhrni which. I’ve got nothin agin thelottor in particu lar and if it had come forth a little m»wa -n-ojmum. —•••l'l liium liWI.it first-rate,.for it aint ofton a northern republican is honost enough to tell the truth on us. But then you seo theres many a dixy dog who havont forgot, and all this muchiii up dont reconcile em worth a cent. Now it dont make any difference with me. for Ive done harmonized. I shake hands across tho bloody chasm with everybody tlmt wants to.' ’ I’ve no doubt Mr. Sherman is sorry for what ho done and wants to be friendly. He’d make a better president for tho south than Grant. “Who would?” said Mrs. Arp as she como in. “Well we were just talkin around generally,’’ said I. Now Freeman loves mischief like a dog loves to worry a eat, and says he “the Major was just speakin about General Sherman’s letter, and lie thinks of voting for him for the next president.” “Voting for Sherman— General Shermafi—tho brute that robbed us of everything we hud and curried oil our negroes. Woll he wont—not unless he loves him hotter than he does me. Maybe if nobody runs ugainst. him but old Satan he might, hut even then its doubtful who would treat us tho worst,” “But von Imvont read tor,” said I. “No, ami I dont want to read it and I dont intend to road it. I t hink a southern paper ought to bo asham ed to print it. Ive never lmd any peace or comfort since tlie night, wo had to got up out of hod und run away with nothing bnt a few clothes. Ho got everything wo hud and burnt the piano in Madison dopot, and when wo got back home wo lmd to borrow a bed to sleep on, mid put tho poor children on the floor. Ho did out loavo but two cows in the county, and we lmd to do without milk, and sugar, and coffee, and meat, and live ou Corn-bread and mush for mouths. I say vote for Sherman—nover!” “But yon seo,” said Freeman, “he wanes to help us out now. Ho wants to oncourago tho northern pooplo to como down and buy land and build up the wusto places and show us how to got along better than we do.” “Well, lio’s too late, so far as I’m concerned,” said Mrs. Arp, “why didont ho como ton years ago and write a letter. Their buzzardB como and picked our bonos and wont baok, and now wo can got along without any of them. The country is settling up fast 'enough with •our own pooplo, What makes tlio pooplo so crazy about immigration? Do yon like to'soo Georgians sell their lands to foreign ers und then niovo straight off to ' 1'exas? General Toombs dont, uud he’s got moro House than all of them. Amt'they buying up all tho gold mines and iron mines and copper, mines mid railroads in the country ami by and by they’ll own everything tlmts worth having and wo poor folks will have to move away or .biro toom for cooks and washerwomen.” Familiar sounds from the nureory indicated a want of harmony and Mrs. Arp departed. Freeman rumi nated for a minnit and-then says lie, “<Major the women who went through tho war will never .be harmonized, und I dont blame em. I ^vish Colo nel Howell could hear Mrs. Arp talk for half mi hour. * She dont much up anybody very much mid sho dont want anybody,to much her up—does sho?” “Not much,” says I. Yours, Bill Aup. Alarmingly Strong Points. Springfield Republican. The fact that Mr. Tildon is mudo by the result of the Now York ciplior investigation, a formidable .candidate for the democratic nomination in 1880, has come to be generally re- eognizd.’ Tho republican hunt lias been carriedJeo far; tho country dis covered, through the New York Tribuno revelations, that Pel ton & Go. lmd been negotiating for the purchase of electoral votes, the dick ering ’ failed; and Mr. Tildon has been given opportunity to toll the mnnr.i’v'whv it, failed. This is what •Samuel ,7. Tildon has been allowed to solemnly affirm before tlie coun try. Ho thus postures as the deceiv ed uncle, tho stern robukcr of pro posed bribery, tho candidate of tho popular ciioico cheated out of the chief magistracy. His onomios havo done their worst, and Samuel J. Til- den not only politically survives, but the old issues are recalled to national attention with him, mid he enters the presidential race equipped with now barrels of money. The alilo manager in Grammoroy park has some alarmingly strong points in his favor. Probably at the last dreadful day* when Gabriel strand* his trump, if he doesn’t stop onoear twice between blast* and shout, “Goneral! General!. Colonel! I say!” not more than two- fifths of tho men in tho American oomotaries will get up. Little brother went with his sister to school for tho first time. They kept him there five mortal hoars. On heiiig asked how he onjuusj the school, ho answered: “Pro tty well, I tank you ; hut I dot awfully retted." .... - ■ •• » - ...