Newspaper Page Text
VOL. 1.
DUBLIN, GEORGIA, WEDNESDAY, APRIL 30, 1879.
WHEN I MEAN 10 MARR1
J. G. SAXE.
When 1 do mean to marry?—well,
'Tis idlo to dispute with fate;
But if you choose to hear me tell,
Pray listen while I fix the date.
When daughters lmste with eager feet
A mother’s daily toil to share ; *
Can make the puddings which they ent,
And mend the stockings which they
wear;
When maidens look upon a man
As in himself what they would marry,
And not as army soldiers scan
A suttler or commissary ; •••
When gentle ladies, who have got
The offer of a lover’s hand,
Consents to share his earthly lot,
And do not mean his lot of land;
When young mechanics are allowed
To find aud wed the farmers’ girls,
Who don’t expect to be endowed
With rubies, diamonds aud pearls ;
When wives, in short, shall freely give
Their hearts and bauds to aid their
spouses,
And live as they were wont to live
Within their sires’one-story houses,..
Then, madam—if I’m not two old—
Rejoiced to quit this lonely life,
I’ll brush my beaver, cease to scold,
And look around for me a wife.
TIMED BY PIKE.
The’dawn was breaking. A fyint
..glimmer of light; in the cast, a deli
cate. roseate flush tinging the clouds,
betokened the coming of the king of
day. The world was wrapped in
silence and in sleep. Now and then
would he heard the crowing of a dis
taut cook, or the song-of a robin to
its mate, when upon the scone there
came hew actors. There was little
to mar the silence, as their figures ap
peared in the dim light. Stern, reso
lute, silent, as they moved to their
appointed places on the daisy-strewed
sod with God’s trees waving over tlieii
heads, in the slpide of the whisper
ing houghs, two men stood face to
> face. One was young, a mere boy in
years, scarce passed his teens, and the
morning glimmer showed a face from
which every trace of color lial fled; a
brow which seemed fitter to betid to
have impressed upon it a mother’s
kiss, than to be drawn in lines so deep
ly marked. The other was a man who
had seen some forty winters; the flush
of health had not left his check ; a
sardonic smile played round lus well-
cut mouth, almost a sneer, madden
iiig to the boy opposite, oven at this
moment. The seconds made one
hopeless effort to effect a reconcilia
tion even yet. Then there was silence.
One, two, three rang out upon the
still air, and at the last word there
ciime a blinding flash, two shots
broke up the stillness, the arm of the
younger hung helpless 'to h'.s side,
the elder lay lifeless on the sward.
A look of misery came into the
yonnger’s eyes as he saw, stretched
before him, the man who lmd goaded
him into becoming a murderer ; and
the pallor deepened on his face as
thoy hurried him into the carriage,
away from the scene, a while ago so
peaceful, now wet with human blood.
Those who remembered Rex Ruther
ford as a bright sunny-faced boy.
could And no trace of recognition in
tho impassive features of the cold,
dignified man who returned, after
ten years’ travel to his native land.
They would have made a lion of him
had he willed it sq; but all greetings,
even from friends near and dear,
wore met with the 6ame icy, yet
courteons indifference, which attract
ed eveu while it repelled.
To Ina Hartley in her fresh young
girlhood, with life opening bie-
. fore her with all its pleasure-fraught
possibilities, this stern, handsome
man was an endless study. A gleam
of pleasure scarce concealed, rose
to the violet eyes and tinged her
cheek with a faint flush, as one even
ing her hostess brought him up ann
presented her. Hitherto she had
watched him from afar, even when
seemingly engrossed' by the little
court always surrounding her. But
now they stood face to face, lie was
bending over her with his nameless
grace and charm of manner, aud she,
even while laughing and chatting
with him, was over studying what
lay concealed behind those eyes so
darkly gray.
“This is yonr first season Mrs.
Evarts tells me. Are yon enjoying
it ?”
“Yes, thoroughly; but it is no
new thing for mo to enjoy. I have
known nothing else all my life.”
“Poor child ! Is the shadow all
before you,-thon, an unknown region,
which sooner or later your foot must
tread ? Forgive me. This is a sen
tence foreign to a ball-room, and I
fear you will not pardon its utter
ance, but it seems strange to meet
one to whom life is so full of sweet
ness. I would not be tho one to cast a
doubt upon its happy continuance.
The words escaped mo without my
knowledge. Como, give me this
waltz, and help me to forgot them.
Yet, when I na Hartley stood that,
night before her mirror, and saw
therein reflected the fair young face,
all un tired by the evening’s dissipa
tion; a smile of happy content played
round the rosy lips and crept up
ward into the dark eyes at tho mem
ory of the words he lmd asked her to
forget. When ho had spoken, them
a look of softness had given place to
the sternness of his eyes, his voice had
sounded perilously sweet, and the
girl’s heart had, all unknown to her,
rendered itself a willing captive to a
charm, a. fascination now and rare.
Six months later, and Rex Ruther
ford one night paced his room till
dawn. A few short hours before he
had parted from this girl, whom half
a year ago ho had first met. He had
thought his heart was steeled against
love, lmd prided himself from huv-
left no crovice where Cupid
might insert his fatal shaft; but
something in the violet eyes, as they
find that evening been uplifted to his,
lmd told the girl’s story and made his
own heart throb with mad bounds
of passionate exultation, where he
thought all lay dead and cold and
still. In her perfect .innocence, her
lovely girlhood, her all untried ex
perience of life, she lmd wound her
self round his very soul, where an
older woman, with all her art, might
have tried her utmost and met only
signal failure. •
“And why should I not take her
to my heart ?” he mused. ’ “Has not
ten long years atoned for my sin,
ten years of lonely solitude, of dreury
travel, and all for a false woman’s
smiles, a bad man’s scorn, a boyish
impulse ? Now that this flower has
bloomed at last in my lonely path,
may 1 not stoop and pluck it, guard
and cherish it ? Must I trample
it with ruthless step,, and leave it
crushed and dying ? If she knew
all would she come ? Yet how could
I sully her pure ears with the recital?
I cannot give her up ! Let me but
hold her once to my heart, hear her
sweet lips givo me the spoken pledge
of her love, and set their seal upon
my own, and I w ; )l feel Thou hast
forgiven.”
Ina,” Rex said, as tho next night
they stood alone together, and she
s;iw in his eye a strange look of ex
ultation, of determination, which
thrilled her while it made her trem
ble, “if I tell yon, dear, there is
something in my path on which your
eye must never rest—a something
which makes mo all unworthy of
your love—that love which is to me
as manna iu the desert, a spring of
cooling water iu The arid wilderness
for which I thirst, darling, as the
flowers thirst for the heaven-sent
dew—which is to me, in one word,
life, hope, happiness—will you, know
ing this, come to my arms, accept
what I give you, the wholo heart of
a strong man, to chase away the
shadow by the sunshine of yonr pres
ence—to bo my wife ?”
.“Rex, Rex, do.not look so,” the
girl exclaimed. “Do not talk so to
me. What have /done that I should
bo worthy of your love ? What care
I for your past? Do you think I
would believe yonr hand could stoop
to dishonor ?—yonr Heart prompt it?
All, no, my love ; wliat’er has been,
yon magnify. But if my love can
^ive you happiness, thon take it,
Rex, (if it has not long gone to you
unsought,) and know that this night
you have crowned my heart with joy.”
A few evenings later and Rex
awaited Ilia’s coming in her father’s
library. He was in evening dross,
and was to bo her escort to a large
reception. She had been defamed
in dressing, and in waiting ho rest
lessly paced the rooiti. Suddenly lie
stopped ; a groan burst from his lips,
from which all color had fled ; great
drops of penpiration stood upon bis
brow ; his eyes were riveted upon the
pictured face of a man bunging upon
the wall. Here in this house that
face/ Wlmt could it mean ?
How long ho stood there ho know
not; .lie had forgotten time and place
Memory lmd carried him back a half
score years, and seemed to brand
again upon his brow the mark of
Cain.
“Rex, what is it, dear? You look
so white, so strange. Are you ill ?
Have you no welcome for your little
Violet ?” for this was the name he
had given her.
“Yes, darling, always a welcome ;
but you came in so quietly I did not.
hear you. Who is this Violet?” and
as he spoke he wondered if his voice
would noAotray his secret.
“This is a picture of my half
brother, Ilex. Have I never told
you of him ? He died years ugo
when I was a child. He was many
years oKlor tlian I, but I remember
his pettilig and caressing .nut 'vheui. J. .ei
was a very little girl, i was very
fond of him, though lam ufraid he
was not a good man, Rex. My
father seldom spoaks of him, but I
often steal in lmro and look at him,
and remember how ho used to toss
mo on his shoulder, or como in to
bid mo good-night in my little crib.”
As ina trance the man listened to
the memories which doomed him.
Every nerve, every muscle quivered
as in its death-throes, then grow as
still. No further sign betrayed his
anguish.
“Would you bo disappointed, dar-
litig if wo spout this evening a;
home ? I feel ns though I wanted
you all to niysoif to-night—as though
I could not spare another a single
glance.”
“Disappointed, Rex ? What ? To
stay alone with you ? I wish all my
disappointments might be knob.
What greater pleasure could you
give me, dear ?”
And so tho evening passed, each
moment fraught to Rex with a price
less interest, each hour counted as
the cost from Paradise to perdition.
When it was time to leave, with a
mad passion ho clasped Violet to his
breast, drank in for the last time her
loveliness, pressed upon the pure,
rod lips kisses burning with despair,
then left her almost frighteuod by
his strangeness. The next morning
a note was put in her hands. Well
she knew the writing, and she tore
it open, with a flush of happiness
upon' her cheek. But the flush deep
ened and died, tho violet eyes gave
birth to such a look of misery as
never before had haunted their
depths, as on and on tho poor
child read words seeming meaning
less, yet dooming her for aye :
“My own, my life, I have left you
—left you forever—to go forth a
wanderer upon tho faee of the earth
--a m:in whoso life is a living death.
Think of me as you will; if you can
think harshly. My explanation
would be harder for you to bear than
to bo loft in ignorance. If I could
save you, darling, (iod knows I would
rln if of AMof HHittf if/m
do it, at whatever cost. That you
must suffer with mo but adds to a
misery which, in one night, has
brought gray lmirs sprinkling tho
brown. For the lust time rny child,
I-clasp you in my arms, I strain you
to my heart. I kies your pure lips
with my unworthy ones, and place
you spotless, with your, heart bleed
ing, (stabbed by my Jiaud, oh, God,)
into the Good Father’s keeping.
Rbx.”
NO 46
Ten days at sea, and m tho fear
fnl storm which rages the gallant
ship still pursues her way.. Hoi
Sails aro torn, her masts bend to the
winds—danger is imminent; but on
her deck ’midst, all tho blinding sleet
and rain, Rex Rutherford restlessly
pUeos up and down.
These ton days have boon to him
days of doom, and if rest is .to be
•giveii him tinder the bluo waves it,
will be tho only boon be has to ask.
Biit suddenly a cry of consternation
arises. The ship has lost her ind
der, and now hor doom seems sealed;
Torror blanches the fucos even of
the sailors, but in Rex’s oyos shinos
a strango look of content, For hou rs
sho drifts at tho mercy of the wind
and waves, when, us hope is dying in
ovofy breast, a steamer is sighted,
and answers their signals of distress.
Nearer and nearer she approaohos,
through tho waves toworiug moun
tains high, though the storm has
spent its fury, when from tho hold
bursts a dense volumo of.smoke, and
to their peril is added a more terrible
disaster of firo. Mon work like de
mons battling with tho flumo, while
their evos arc strained for tho coming
?>f their deliverer. At last she roach
es them and begins tho rescue. One
by one they reached her deck, until,
as almost the last aro saved, there
comes the romembranco of a man ill
in tho cabin. Who will turn back
now into that dense smoko and
flames? It would be but two lives
lost instead ofnmo.
But to oiio thore opened a glimpse
of heaven-sent atonement. Ho who
lmd taken life should save life, and,
turning back, Rex Rutherford plun
eel down, as it "seettiMrTd cTbdni.
Upoinjlijs couoh, helpless, trembling,
the sick man lay, beliovltrg himself
lost, wlipii his eyes mot the form of
his rescuer.' Had tho dead como to
life? Wlmt strango fatality was this
that hero, on a burning ship In mid
ocean, once more the man who
thought himself a murdorer,. stood
face to faee witli his victim ! A wild
thanksgiving, a fervid prayer for
life, n so iu his ljcurt as ho boro tho
sick man in his strong arms, and
battling with an energy scarcely liu
man his way hack into tho reviving
air. Then when tho dock at last was
reached ho fell senseless with his
burden, deserted oven by hope.
When eoncionsness returned he was
tho steamer houieward-bound,
on
and loarned that life and hope hud
been spared him. A few hours later
lie was summoned to tho bedside of
the, man whom ho lmd roscucd, but
whose days wore numbored, and who
was sinking rapidly.
“It was my fault, Rex, old follow
•all my fault. Yon did not quite
kill mo, but I was desperately ill for
months. Then I got in a tight place
and forged my father’s name—so
that he never forgave me, and lot
the world believe I was dead, us I
was to him. Good-by, Kox—God
bless you.”
It was not many days ero onco
again Ilex stood in tho presence of
the woman whom ho so dourly loved.
Purified, with his sin atoned, he told
her all the story of his past, and as
she listened little by little the sun
shine crept back into tho life sho
thought forever shadowed, and hand
in hand she and hor brure lover have
set tho seal upon the past, and step
lovingly, trustingly into tho unknown
future. Jennie When.
iri
About Advertising.
My success is owing to liberality
advertising.—Bonner.
The road to fortune is through
printer’s ink.—Barnuni.
Success depends upon a liberal pa
tronage of printing offices.—J. J.
Astor.
Frequent and constant advertising
brought me all I own.—A. T. Stew
art.
My son deal with men who adver
tise. You will never lose by it.—
[Jen Franklin.
How can the world know a man
has a good thing unless lie advertises
possession of it Vanderbilt.
MRS. ARR AT HOME.
And How Sho Cogitated with
Bill Upon Mutters and Tilings.
Atlanta Constitution.
The elements are not propitious.
Our farming oporatiqns'aro six weeks
behind lust year. Tho cold wind has
baked the'ground. Tho corn don’t
comb up well and looks sickly. The
potatoes were all killed tlbivn. The
guidoi) chilled. Tho hogs have
oaten tip tho goslins and broko into
the wheat fioid. All. tho rats in the
naborliood iiavd suddenly congregat
ed in my crib which is a bad sign for
the naborliood. A young tornado
came along and blowod down my
plank fonco and turned up my finest,
plum-tree by the roots. The ruin
broke through my terraces and
sprung a leak right over the planner.
The children have all got dreadful
colds, somo iu tho head and sonic in
tho bosom and sotne in the nose.
But still wo are all tolablo happy.
We-are thinkin about winds left us
atid tho good time com ip when the
wheat gets ripe aud the watermelons
and rousiin oars and blackberries
como along, and our friends and
kinfolks conur over to see us and
luxuriate on spring elijekens ami
dewberry pies. They treatod. Mrs.
Arp so good while sho was gone that
she'll noyer get ovor it. What 1\
wonderful memory! Sho can tell
tho roll and tell tlife bill of faro of
every breakfast and dinner and sup
per she sot down to in the week’s
visit. She looks about ton yours
younger, and will outlive mu vet, Ini
ufeprd. and then, maybe some other
follow will como along and step in
my shoes and be a steppjn around
over inyTaiid, eating my peaches ami
grapes and sticking his foot in my
place on tho banisters. A poor mar
ried man never knows who ho is
working for, and it’s >vell that ho
dont.
But sufficient is tho evil of the
day unto thereof. I shunt try to
cross the bridgo before I got to it.
Mrs. Arp strutted around for two or
throe days but lias got back into hor
accustomed corner and I am hack in
tho truces and tho children likewise.
Sho spent most of her two dollars at
a 5 cent counter and brought bade a
trunk full of spoons and ladles and
frying pans and buckets and piopuns
and popper boxes and graters und
dippers and gives us all somo, for
she never slights any of the family
•when she goes on a regular slioppin.
.She kindly presented mo with a
grater and a pepper box as omblems
of my unruffled temper and amiable
disposition. I was gratified of
eourso.'
Mrs. Arp, iny ttffc, sho is an on-
common brave woman. Sho never
looks ttndor the hod for a man. I
don’t bolievo she is afoerd of any
living thing, but sho is mighty dubi
ous about ghosts, sporits of onjust
men- not made porfect. The other
night a nabor come down and said
that a ghost had boon seen at another
nabobs house. That about midnight
tho door flew open a few inches and
the naked aitn of a woman thrust in
in a beckoning manner. It was as
white as snow. Tho liouso was old
and hud boon unoccupied for several
years. When the arm disappeared,
tho man of tho liouso got up and
went out into the piazzer but could
not find anything alive or dead. His
wife left for her father’s next morn
ing.
Well, I explained all this to Mrs.
Arp and the girls by saying that tho
door was old and riokoty and tho
wind blew it open and there was a
towel hanging closo by tho door on
a nail in the piazzer and the towel
blow in thecracK and flapped around
a little and the imagination worked
up tho rest. I think thoy would
have been satisfied with this reason
ably solution, but a friend came
along the next day, and after talking
awhile, expressed his surpriso that
weaver bought this place. “Why?”
says Mrs. Arp. “Well, nothing in
particular,” said ho, “only they say
thb place is haunted und it unit many
folks that likes to live iu u haunted
house.”
“There, now, I told you so, Wil
liam. You’ve been saying all tho
time that those noises we somotimes
hoar in the night were rats running,
or the wind moaning, or the dog
snoring, but. 1 told you all tho time
It wasent. I'll bet you anything that
a ghost run, Mr. Fontaine away from
hero, and lie never let anybody know
it.”
“I have always wanted to see u
ghost,” said I, calmly.
“Not. much yon ha vent,” said Mrs.
Arp. “When you was a courtin me
and lmd to go by tho grave-yard
about, midnight, going home, the
darkeys said you used to run like a
‘That shows how much I loved
you,” said I. “I was young and
superstitious but was braving the
spirits of tho unknown world to git
you. If those ghosts lmd dared t<j
come iti betwixt you and me I would
have slayed 'timin' like rats. Yea, I
would have sealed the mountains of
liepsiduin, swam the holislipont,
travorsod a howling wilderness, leap
ed from N iagaru’s—I was proceeding
excitedly when sho interrupted mo
with, “Oh, do hush, tho question is
not wlmt. big thing you would have
done then, but what would you do
for mo now. I verily boliove you
would he glad if a ghost was to borne
.ami carry me off to-night, ”
“ Wlmt for,” said I, “what would
ho, she. or it, want, witli yon, Got
any old sweetheart that’s dead ?”
'Sweetheart!” says she, majesti
cally. “I might have lmd plenty of
them, Imi you never gave mo time
to look round. Just as soon us I got
home from school in Augusta you lit
down on me like a jaybird after a
bug. You married mo before I was
old enough to know wlmt I was
doing. I dident Imvo half a chance,
and I liuvont had any time to learn
anything since. It’s been nothing
but. childien, children children !”
“Blessed is ho who lmtli his quiver
full. Ho shall stand in the gates
and the people slihll praise film. So
sait.li Solomon,” said I.
“Yes, it’s ‘him’ and 'ho* all the
time with Solomon,” replied Mrs.
Arp. “lie didn’t care trlmt become
of tho pooijjjwomen.” Yours,
Bill Akp.
Two hordsmen quarreled on a Ne
braska prairie, and ouch threatened
to kill the other. Neither was arm
ed, hut there wnk a gun in their hat,
a mile away, Both started for the
weapon, und it was a raco for life,
for .the man who got it was cortuin
to shoot his companion. They had
sovoral fights on tho wuy, and were
bruised and exhausted when they
neared the goal; but they ran with
desperation, and kept abreast until
close to the . house. Then one trip
ped and foil, giving tho other the
load. Tho victor dashed into tho
building, pulled tho gun down from
its hooks, and meroilcssly murdered
liis firllcn foe.
You can never expect great deeds to yield,
Yoij can never perform mi action kind,
You can never plow round u former’s field,
By turning It over In your mind,
The name of Lent is dcrivod from
a Saxon word signifying spring, the
season of tho year when it occurs.
Tho length of time of tho observance
lias varied, first having been forty
hours and then thirty-six days. Four
days woro added in the ninth centu
ry, making, as at present, forty days.
This is the way they enjoy thon
solves in Storm Lake, Texas, at s
oiablcs: “Ton cents to hug anyoi
between the uges of fifteen and si
teen: live cents from twenty to tlii
ty: one dollar to hug another man
wife: old maids for u nickel with
cliroino. thrown ill.”
Why is Mr. Biggor’s young hi:
larger than himself ? Because he
a little Bigger.