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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.