Newspaper Page Text
VOL. t.
DUBLIN, GEORGIA, WEDNESDAY, MARCH 19, 1879.
THE DEVIL FISHING.
The devil sat by the river side—
The stream of time, where you'll always
find him—
Casting his line in the rushing tide,
And landing the fish on the hank behind
him.
He sat at ease in a cosy nook,
And was filling his basket very fast;
While you might hove seen that his dead
ly hook
Was differently baited for eviffy cast.
He caught ’em as fast ns a man could count;
Little or big, it was all the same.
One bait was a check for a round amount;
An Assemblyman nabbed it, and out he
came.
He took a gem that as Saturn shone ;
Ifsank in the water without a sound,
And caught a woman who long was known
As the best and purest for. miles around.
Sometimes he would laugh and sometimes
sing,
For better luck no one could wish,
And seemed to know, to a dead sure thing,
* The best bait suited to e\ cry fish.
Quoth Satan: “The fishing is rare and
fine!’’
And he took a drink, somewhat enthus
ed;
And yet a parson swam round the line
That e’en the most tempting of baits re
fused.
He tried with his gold and flashing gems,
Hung fame and fortune upon the line,
Dressing-gowns with embroidered hems,
But,still the Dominie made no sign.
A woman's garter went on the hook;
“I have him at last quoth the devil,
brightening;
Then Satan’s sides with laughter shook,
And he landed the preacher as quick' as
lightning.
HAPPILY IHJINEI).
Arthur Morton sat in his room m
his hotels lie was a young nian six
mid twenty, tall and slim frame, with
a face of great intellectual beauty,
dressed in costly garments, though
his toilet was but indilforontly per
formed.
He was an orphan, and for some
tiino ltud liyed at an hotel. It re
quired but a glance into-his pale feat
ures to tell that he was^ an invalid.
He stit with his head resting upon
his hands, and his whole frame would
ever andahoh tremble as though with
some powerful emotion.
As the youth sat thus, his irloor was
opened, and au elderly gentleman en
tered..
“Ah, Doctor, you fire moving ear
ly this morning,’’ said Morton, as he
lazily rose from his seat and extend
ed his hand.
“Oh, not .early for me, Arthur;,”
returned Weston with a bright smile.
“I am an early bird.”
“Well, have you caught a worm
this time ?”
“I hope it will prove a .valuable
one.”
“I don’t know,” sighed the youth.
“I fear a thousand worms will in
habit this poor body ere long.”
“Nonsense, you’re worth a half a
century yet,” cried the doctor, giving
him a gentle slap on the shoulder.
“But just tell me, Arthur, how is it
With Crobsy?”
“Just as I told you. All is gone.”
“I don’t understand it, Arthur.”
“Neither do I,” said the young
man sorrowfully. “That Mathew
Crobsy could have done that thing,
I would not, could not have believed.
Why, had an angel appeared to me
two weeks ago, and told me that
Crobsy was shaky, I would not have
paid a moment’s attention to it. But
only think, when my father died, he
selected for my guardian his best
friend, and such I even now believe
Mathew Crobsy was, and in his hands
he placed his wealth, and for him to
keep till I was of age. And when I
did arrive at that period of life, Heft
my money where it was; I had no use
for it. Several times within three or
four years has Crobsy asked me to
take my money and invest it, but I
would not I bode him to keep it
and use it if he wished. I only ask
ed that .when I wanted the money
he wonld honor nvy demand. I felt
more safe, in fact, than I should
have felt, had my money been in a
bank on doposit,”
“How much had he when he left?”
“Ho should have had a hundred
thousand pounds.”
“What do you mean to do?”’ "
“Ah yon have me on the hip
there.”
“And yet you must do something,
my sou. Heaven knows I would
keep yon if I could. I shall claim
the privilege of paying your debts,
however.”
“No, no—doctor—none of that.”
“But I tell you I shall pay your
debts', but beyond that I can help
you to assist yourself. What do you
say to going to sea ?”
A faint smile fell over the youth’s
pale face at this remark.
“I should make a smart hand at
sea, doctor. lean hardly keep my
legs on shore. No, no—I must—•”
“Must what, Arthur ?”
“Alas, I know not. 'I shall die
that is all!”
“Nonsense, Arthur. I say go to
sea. You couldn’t go into a shop,
and you would not if you could.
You do not wish to remain here,
amid the scenes of your happier days.
Think ot it—at sea you would be free
from all sneers of the heartless, and
from all contact with things yon
loath. Think of it.”
Arthur started to his feet and
paced the floor for some minutes.
When lie stopped a new life seemed
already at work within him.
“If I wont to sea what could 1
do ?”
“You understand all the laws of
foreign trade?”
“Yes. You know I bad a tlior-
ong#training at that in my father’s
counting house.”
“Then you can obtain berth of a
super-cargo.”
“Are you sure I cun get one.”
“Yes.”
“Dr. Welston, I will go.”
Arthur walked home one evening
to the house of a wealthy merchant,
John Melbourne. It was a palatial
dwelling and many a hopeful, happy
hour.laid he spent beneath its' roof.
He rang at the door bell and was ad
mitted to the parlor. In a few min
utes Grace Melbourne entered. She
was only twenty. She had been
waiting until that age to become Ar
thur’s wife. 1
Some words were spoken, many
minutes of painful silence ensued.
“Grace, you know all. I am go
ing away from my native land a beg
gar. I cannot stay longer now.
Grace, did I know you less than I
do--or, knowing you well, did I
know you as I do many—I should
give back your vows, and free you
from all bondage. But I believe I
should trample upon your heart did
I do that thing now. I know your
Jove is too pure and deep to be torn
from your bosom of will. So I say—
wait! There are other feelings in
the heart besides love. 1 That love is
a poor profitless passion which puts
aside all other considerations. We
must love for eternity, and so our
love must be free. Wait. I am go
ing to work—-aye, upon the sea to
work.” ^
“But why upon the sea? Why
away wliero my poor heart must ever
in anguish, fear and doubt as it fol
lows you?”
“Because I cannot remain here.
Huudreds of poor fools have imagin
ed that I shunned them because I
was rich. They know not that it
was the tainted atmosphere of their
moral life that*I shunned. They
gloat over my misfortune.. Men may
call me foolish, but it would kill me
to stay here.”
“Alas! must.it be?”
“It must. You will wait?”
“I will wait even to the gates of
the tomb.”
“Then Heaven bless and preserve
you!”
The ruined youth was upon the
ocean—his voyago commenced—his
duties as laborer for his own daily
bread all fairly resumed. Ah! it was
a strange life for him to enter upon.
From the ownership of immense
wealth to the tradesbook of a mer
chant ship was a transition indeed.
But ere lie wont on deck again ho
had fully rcsolvod that lie would do
his duty, come what would, short of
death. He would forget that lie ever
did else but work for his livelihood.
With these resolves clearly determin
ed in his mind, ho already felt bet
ter.
At first our supercargo was too
woak to do much. Ho was vory sick
and it lasted nearly two weeks, but
when that passed off, and he could
pace the vibrating deck with a stout
stomach, his appetite grew sharp
and his muscles began to grow
strong.
At first he craved some of the
many delicacies he had long been
used to, but they wore not to be had,
and lie vory soon learned to do with
out them The result was that his
appetite became natural in its wants,
and Ins system began to find it n
iabed by simple food taken in pr<J
quantities.
For years he had looked upon
breakfust as a meal which must bo
set out and partaked of from nioro
fashion. A cup of coffoo and perhaps
a piece of dry toast, or a seasoned
and highly spiced titbit had consti
tuted the morning meal. But now,
when the breakfast hour came ho ap
proached it with appetite and felt us
strong afterward as at any other timo
of the day. *
By degrees the hollow cheeks bo
came full, the dark eyes assumed new
lustre, the color, rich and beautiful,
came to the face, the breast swelled
with increasing power,' the lungs ex
panded and grew strong, the muscles
became more firm and true, the
nerves grew strong, and the garments
which lie had worn when he came on
had to bo let out 3omo-iuehcsji) or
der to make them fit. His position be
came cheerful and bright, iuid by the
timo the ship reached the Sou thorn
coast of Africa the crew lmd all
learned to love him.
Through the storm and sunshine,
through tempest and calm, through
dark hours and bright, the young su
per-cargo made his voyage. Ill ono
year from the day which ho left his
native land lie placed his foot again
upon the soil of his home.
But he did not stop. Tho same
ship, with the same officers, was go
ing upon the same cruise again, and
he meant to go in her. lie saw Grace
Melbourne, and she would wait. He
saw Dr. Welston, and the kind old
gentleman praised him for his manly
independence.
Again Arthur Morton was upon
tho sea, and again lie assumed, the
duties of his office, and even more,
lie e.ven stood watch when there was
no need of it, and during seasons of
storms lie claimed a post on deck.
At the end of another year tho
young man returned to his homo
again. He was now eight and twen
ty, and a few who knew him two
years before could recognize him
now. Ilis face was-bronzed by ex
posure, his form was filled out to per
fection, and ho was greeted with
great affection by old Dr. Welston,
who would insist on his staying with
him during his leave on the shore.
One day after Arthur’s arrival lie
suddenly burst into the room and
said abruptly: .
“Well, Arthur Mr. Crobsy is here.
Will yon see him ?”
“See him? See Mathew Crobsy?
Of course I will. He owes me an ex
planation, and I hope lie can give
me a satisfactory one.”
The door was opened and Mr.
Crobsy entored.
He was au elderly man, but hale
and hearty.
The old man and young one shook
hands, and inquired of each other’s
health. . „
“You received a note from me
some two year ago,” said Crobsy,
“in which I stated that one in whom
I trusted had got your money and
mine with it, and l could not pay
yon.
“Yes sir,” answered our hero, not
knowing what whs to come next,
“Well,” resumed Crobsy, “Dr.
Welston was tho~man. He laid your
nibnoy.”
“How? what?” gasped Arthur,
gazing from ono to the ot her in blank
astonishment.
“Hold on, my boy,” said tho doc
tor, while a thousand emotions seem
ed to work within his bosom,
was tho villain. It was I who got
your money. I worked your ruin
arid I will toll you why; I saw that
you/wore dying. Your father died
of the same disease. A consumption
was upon him—not the regular pul
monary affection, but a wasting
away of the systom for want of vital
ity. Tho mind was wearing-out tho
body. The soul was slowly but euro
ly eating its way from the cords that
bound it to the earth. I know that
you could bo cured, and I know, too
that the only tiling in tho world
yliicli would cure yon was to throw
ou on your own physical rosoursos
for a livelihood. Thoro was a mor
bid willingness for tho spirit to pass
away. You would have died ore you
would have niado ail exertion, from
tho very fact that you looked upon
oxertion, as worse than death. It
was a strange stato of both mind and
body. Your fortune rendered work
unnecessary, so there ivas no hope
while the fortune remained. Had it
been a. wholly body malady, i could
have argued you into necessary work
for a cure. And on tho.other hand,
lmd it been a wholly inontal disoaso,
I might have driven your body to
help your mind. But both wore
weak, and I ki.ow you must cither
work or die.”
“And now, my boy, I’ll tell you
whore my hope lay,, I know that
you possessed such a true p.rido of
independence that you would work,
I saw ^i'obsy and told him my plans.
I assured him that if • wo could con
trive to get you to sea, and make yon
start out into active life, for tho sake
of a livelihood you could be saved.
He joined mo at onco. I took your
money and his, and then bid him
clear out. You know tile rest.
Your money is safe—every penny of
it—to the amount of ono hundred
and fifty thousand pounds. Poor
Crobsy has aufferod much in know
ing how you looked upon lnnt; but I
know lie is amply repaid by the sight
of you noble, powerful frame, ns lie
sees it to-night. And now, Arthur,
are wo forgiven ?”
It was a full hour before all the
questions of tho happy friends could
bo asked and answered; and when
the doctor and Crobsy had been for
given and blcsped for tho twentieth
timo, Mr. Melbourne said:
“Wait!”
He loft the room, and wlion lie re
turned lie led sweet Grace by the
hand.
Late in tho. evening, after tho
hearts of our friends had fairly begun
to grow tired with joy, Arthur asked
Graco whether he need wait any lon
ger. ••
Graco asked her father, and the
answer may be easily guessed.
True as Preaching.
No young woman ever looks so well
to a sensible man us when dressed in
a plain, neat, modest attire, with but
little ornament about her. She looks
then os though she possessed worth
in herself, and needed ffo artificial
rigging to enhance her value. If a
young woman would spend as much
timo in improving her mind, training
her temper and cherishing kindness,
mercy and other good qualities, as
most of them do in extra dress and
ornaments to increase their personal
charms, she would at least bo recog
nized among a thousand—hor char
acter would bo read in hor counte
nance.
NO 40
BILL ARP'S SUNDAY CHAT.
In Which He Breathes Out His
Afflatus of Spring Poetry. ,
Atlnuta Constitution.
•IIow inspiring is tho earliest breath
of spring. How quickly it brings lo
lifo tho slumbering emotions, which,
though chilled by the frosls ami
winds of a hard winter, wore not
dead, but lay dormant as a bear in
bis don. Wluit harmonious feelings
spring up in ones bosom and gush
forth to all niunkind—except some
Rejuvenated, resurreotod and rqoon
structed I feol just now like writing
an oad or a poem to tho vernal god
dess, but I remember that’yon city
folks have an aversion to spring poe
try. Besides that I couldont if T
would, for poetry is a heavenly gift
that wusont given to mo, When I
make a rliymo its an acoidcnt, or olso
comes forth with exceeding violence
anil mixes up things promiscuous.
Yesterday morning 1 thought I ho fit
wnson pio and surldonly found myself
oxelaimin ;
'Hull benutcous spring I feci tUy Inspirat ion
* dingnution.’
The rest of the second lino 1 have
not finished, bur. feel that it is in me
and will como orb boforo long.
Airs, Arp siiys it reminds hor of the
two linos made on u wager-against
time:
“Daddy built a well sweep,
The wind blew it down—sheep,”
The difficulty with mo is, I think,
tho povorty of the English language.
There ui nt words enough to lot a
mans sentiments flow out in tribe,
when tho fits on hiiii, Most every
body lias poetry in em which would
come put in the Chinese language
which they siiy has-a word for every
shade of thought and ono for every
grunt or groan, ThisbaUny weatlior
fills all the chambers of the soul with
music that is s never heard and with
poetry that is not expressed.' Tho
very air is redolent with love mid
peace. Turnip greens are running
up to seed. The plum tree is in
bloom ; the busy boo is sucking honey
from I heir fragrant blossoms and by
and by will bo stingin the oliildron
as usual. Tho sweet south wind is
breathing upon the violet banks.
Aldor-tugs liang in graceful clusters
upon their slender stems. Jonquills
are in a yaller strut and shcllots are
about right for the skill# The
little silvcrsides have opened their
.spring regattas. Tho classical robin
has ceased to got drunk oil chancy
berries and the ferocious chicken
hawk catches about one a day from
our earliest broods.
Everything is lively—
Over the meadow the new-born lams are
The man who married a whole
family lives in Traverse county Mich.
His first wife diedund he married
her sister. She, too died,, and then
he married the mother of his two
former wives,
Over the fields the little boys are—ripping,
I got that right easily, and rippin
is tho right word. It comes without
a strain, for thercs a new lot of boys
acirculatiu around us now. Grand
children have come to visit us and see
the spring show 'open in our country
home. Penned uj/for months in a
little city, they have livod in u sort of
prison homo and feel now liko school
boys when rocess conies—want to go
out and rock somebody. They hard
ly took time to kiss anil say howdy
and shuck off their store clothes be
fore they woro off—daldin in the
branch, rockin the ducks in tho little
pond, tighten the ganders as they
stand guard over their sitting mates,
diggin bait, fishin for manners, rollin
an old hogshead down tho hill, break
ing tho bull calf and every half hour
sondln to grandma for more ginger
bread. There they go and there
they go, while their poor mother
jumps up every five minutes to see if
they liaveut got killed or drowned or
turned over the hen-house. 8ho hud
liko to took a fit thisjmorning as she
looked out of the window and seen
em coming down tho big road with a
calf a prilJiu a little wagon with gum
log wheels. One a pulliu haw, an
other jmllin gee, and four of cm a
riding and all a hollorjn till they
made such a ruekot the calf took a
panic and run away with the whole
concern and never stopped tell ho got
in tho branch and landed their gable
ends in (he wafer.
Blessings on the children and the
childrens children; How I do love
to liavo cm around and see em frolic
and ever and anon hear one squall
with a cnl finger or a stumped too,
or iIn- bark knocked off bis hide
somewhere. Wlmt a pity they have
got to grow up and seo t rouble and
bo sent to ( lie legislature or congress,
and thoro got a little behind in mor
als and in money. But sufficient
unto tlu> (iav is the evil thereof.
Bill Arp,
P. S—Now is the-time to plant
potatoes. Be shore to plant em in
the dark of tho moon and then plant
some nioro just tivo weeks later, and
they’d bo “ujleesamee.” I tried it
last year. a.
Francis C. Barlow and John B,
Gordon.
Boston Transcript.
You may not bo awnro that it was
General Gordon’s command which
struck tho flank of tho cloven th corpB
on tho afternoon of the first day at
Gettysburg, and, after a short but
desperate conflict, broko its. lines ami
swept it from the field.
In that fight General Barlow, of
Now York, commander of the first
division, fell dangerously, and, it was
thought, mortally wounded, lie was
allot directly ; tliraiigli tJio body. Two
of his men uttonipted to bear him
through that shower of lead from
tho field, hut-one was inslantly kill
ed, and Genoral Bui low magnani
mously Suid to the other : “ You cun
do mo iio good ; save yourself if you
cum” Gordon’s brigade ul' Georgians,
ju its wild charge, swept over him,
mid he was fprtnd by Gonoral Gordon
himself, lying with upturned face in
the hot July sun, Hourly paralyzed
and apparently dying. Gonoral Gor
don dismounted from his horse, guvo
him a, drink of water from Ids eun-
teon, and inquired of General Barlow
his namo anil wishes.
; Gonoral Bpilow said: “I shall
probably live but a short time, Please
take froth my breast pocket tho pack
et of my wife’s Jofctore and read one
of them to me,” which was done,
Ho then asked that tho others bo torn
up, as he did not wish them to fall
into other • hands, This General
Gordon did, and then asked: “Can l
do anything else for yon, gonoral ?”
“Yes,” replied Con oral Barlow, ear
nestly. “My wife is behind our
army. Can you sond a message
through tho lines ?” “Certainly, I
will,” said Gordon, and ho did.
Then directing General Barlow to be
borne to tho shade, of a tree at the
rear, ho redo on with his command.
The wife received the message and
came harmlessly through both lines
of battle and found her husband,
who eventually recovered.
Since Gonoral Gordon’s oleetion to
tho United States senate, both lie
and General Barlow wove invited to
a dinner party in Washington, and
occupied opposite scats at the table.
After introductions, General Gordon
said: “Gonoral Barlow, are you rela
ted to the officor of your name who
was killed at Gpttysbmg ?” “l mn
tlie mini,” said Barlow. “Are you
rolutod to tho Gordon who is suppos
ed to have killed mo ?” “I am the
man,” said, General Gordon. The
hearty greeting which followed the
touching story, as rolated to the in
terested guests by General Barlow,
and the thrilling effect upon the
company, can bettor bo imagined
than described.
Jii.vl.v the Troubiulorc.
OJi king of the fldijlo, Wilhelmj,
If truly you Jovo me, just jellmj •
•lusl iiuswer my si^J, •
By H“' glance of your rye,
Be honest, anil dont try lo scllmj.
With rupture and music did thrillinj.
With pleasure supreme did it fillmj,
And if I could believe
That you meant to deceive—
Wilhelmj, I think i| would killmj,
A lady named Ahoy Magui-ah
Had trouble in lighting her ti-ah ;
Tim wood being green.
She used kerosene—
(Pause. Then continue solemnly.)
She has gone where tho w^od is dri «jj /
