Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

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 /