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VDL-2.
DUBLIN, GEORGIA, WEDNESDAY, JULY 23,1879.
/ COULD NOT HELP IT.
My feet are dancing to the song,
My happy heart is singing, *
The sand seemsstrewn with diamond gems
■ And sweetest birds are singing.
The lark is trilling in the sky,
And the dove coos in the grove,
My very soul seems melting down
In streams of lava, love.
Last night he whispered in my ear
Such words of love and madness,
My heart to-day is carried up
To heights of glorious gladness,
And oh / I can not help it.
I’ve .seen ten thousand burning eyes,
But his are brightest of them ail,
His tones make sweeter music far
Than those celestial luups let full.
My heart is singing in response,
My blush the tale is telling—
Witli wild, delirious ecstasy
My very soul is swelling.
Last night I heard the first mad words
Of love, thnt glowing, passion thing;
My senses reel—my heart will burst,
My feet will dance, my lips will sing,
Because I could not help it.
And, oh. such words of love he spoke—
The first I’d ever heard;
They charmed mo as the charmer does
The tranced fluttering bird.
The Paphian goddess never felt
A love so rich and warm
As thrilled my soul and swept my heart
At love’s tempestuous storm.
Tiie stars were out and all aglow—
(Scenes of bliss about me swim)
My head was snuggled on his breast—
And he kissed me—and I kissed him,
Because I could not help it
TRUE LOVE AND FALSE.
“So yon refuse to be my wife, af
ter knowing for years that it has
been the hope of my life that you
should ho.”
The speaker Tot his voice rise in
smgeFUs lie spoke, and pretty Ettie
Willard diupped her head in troubled
silence.
“Speak to mo,” Hugh Wei born
said, bn patiently. “Have you not
known I loved you sinee we were
children ?”
She was a meek, timid girl, but
there was some spirit v.i her gentle
heart, and his tone roused it.
“I do not think you have any right
to speak so to me, Hugh,” she said,
and her voice was firm, though her
lips t nun bled. “We have been like
brother and sister always.”
“Never!” he said, fiercely. “I
never gave you a brother’s love, nor
asked for a sister’s from you. I
strove to win you for my wife, and
you know it.”
“I never thought about it at all,”
she said, firmly, “and I do not love
you as yon wished to be loved.”
“But von did; you would now,
if no vine lmd come in between ns
You cannot deny that you have
changed sinee Eliiot Boyd came to
'p »
“And if I have, does it not prove
what F said—that I gave you' a sis
tor’s love only? Be thankful that I
learned to know my own heart bo
fore your life was burdened by an
unloving wife.”
She spoke solemnly, for she felt
deeply the danger of which she
spoke. She had given Hugh quiet
affection all her life, and had he ask
«d her to bo his wife six months
sooner; she might have granted the
wish, believing she loved him. But
Elliot Boyd came to T—and sought
employment in the factory where
Hugh and Ettie both worked daily.
From the hour when they exchanged
greetings Elliott and Ettie were at
tracted to each other, and while
Hugh watched in silent fury, he
knew that never had he won from
Ettie, in years of devotion, one look
such as met Elliot Boyd’s in a few
short weeks.
It was not a long courtship, and
there were no great wedding prepar
ations. Elliot rented a tiny cottage,
and Ettie prepared a modest outfit
from her savings. Sho had been ut
terly happy in love, until one May
morning, a few weeks before" the
day fixed for t>*e wedding, I|ugh
made one desperate effoj-t to win her
away from his rival.
I never asked her in so many
words to be my wife,” he -thought.
“1 never luvished flattery upon her
as Boyd has done! She may not
know, even now, how I love her!”
And m answer to his prayer Ettie
had told him she had novel* given
him the love he craved. lie would
not see the truth, but in answer to
her words broke into furious anger,
accusing Elliot Boyd of having come
between them and stolen live love
that had been his.
“But lie shall know what it is to
cross my path,” lie cried lifting his
hand to strike an unseen adversary
“I will be revenged!” and without
waiting for an answer ho went rap
id b' from the little parlor of the
boarding-honso and out into the
road.
Many a night poor littlo Ettie
woke trembling, thinking of dread
ful scenes of murder of which she
lmd road, where jealousy aimed the
blow and love was loft desolate. But
the morning brought Elliot to walk
to the factory with her, and only
Hugh’s sullen face reminded hor of
her troubled night’s visions.
“He has forgotten his anger,” she
thought; “he sees that it would
not win my love to injure Elliot.”
“I can wait!” he thought, watch
ing the lovers and angrily noting
Ettie’s shy blushes and pretty coque-
tries of dress.
On theeveningof the wedding-day
he came to the church with the rest
of the factory hands, and his name
was on I he subscription list for his
share of the expense of the suit of
[parlor furniture presented by her
fellow-workers to Ettie. It was not
velvet-covered or of curved walnut,
but it was graceful and pretty, if not
expensive, and' every inch of it was
precious to the little bride.
Elliot insisted upon her giving up
her [mice at. the factory.
Wo will not have wealth, dar
ling he told her, “but. my wife must
not work while my arms are strong.”
And Ettie smiled and consented,
resolving to make her home the neat
est in T—, to give Elliot the best of
dinners, and repay his love for her
by her life’s devotion.
She never knew that Hugh ofton
came to the garden gate, after the
lamps were lighted, looked in at the
window open to admit the summer
air, and cursed them both with
words that would have chilled her
heart had she heard them.
It was not until fall that the first
shadow fell upon the little cottage
hearth. Ettie was troubled to see
that Elliot was keopmg some care
from her, for his face was clouded
and he no longer whistled merrily as
ho went about the house. Sho wait
ed for him to speak, for she was al
ways shy and timid, in spite of her
love, and one evening he did tell
her something of his care—not all.
Since Hugh Wclliorn has been
foreman, Ettie. he has made my po
sition very hard. He exacts more
from me than the others, finds more
fault, and yet does not give mo fail
cause to complain to Mr. Hon-
dricks. ”
Ettie’s tears dropped on her work.
She had never told Elliot of Hugh’s
threats, although every one in the
factory knew that there had been
rivalry botween the two men.
“Don’t cry,” Elliot said gently;
“I would not tell you before lest you
should blame yourself. I know
Hugh thinks he has cause for com
plaint, because 1 won what was de
nied to him. But it was a fair, open
contest, Ettie. and if yon had loved
him best I should only have wished
you every happiness. It is not true
love that would seek revenge because
it was not returned.”
Do you think Hugh will have
you discharged?”
Ho cannot do that unless he finds
failure in my duties. Mr. Hendricks
is too just a man to send mo away
on the foreman's complaint. But,
Ettie, there is the new factory at
L- Many of the hands have gone
over, because of the higher wages
offered, and I thought some of try
ing-”
Ettie smiled approval. She wns
utterly alone, save for Elliot, an or
phan without near relatives, and it
was breaking no ties to go to L
“Home is where you are,” she
said, “and we could move to L—in a
day.”
“I will sec about it.”
But Elliot, os I have said, did not
tell all. He did not toll her that the
new factory at L—was regarded as a
speculation, likely to fail, although
promising well. He did not tell her
that Mr. Hendricks was angered at
losing some of his best hands, who
were tomptod away by the high
wages, and tliat he had hinted iliat
thoso who had loft might find it im
possible to return if they so desired.
Above all, ho did not tell her of the
many petty tyrannies to which ho
was forced to submit, day after day,
as Hugh made use of his new author
ity to vent his spite and revenge.
For Ettie’s sake he boro much;
lmd he been a bachelor ho would
long boforo have loft his unpleasant,
position, but he was prudent for bis
wife’s sake, and held to the certainty
of good wages through the winter
months, rather than risk loss of sit
uation if the new factory proved a
failure.
But in th^early spring bis posi
tion became unbearable. Mr. Hen
dricks went abroad, and Hugh be
came temporary master of the facto
ry, trusted with the details of the
business, the control of the hands
There was no appeal beyond him,
and ho made him feel his power, un
til pationce became humiliation'and
be resigned his place.
He was eagerly welcomed at I
and obtained a hotter situation than
the one he lmd left, but lie was anx
ious at many rumors about, the new
factory, and took a three-mile walk
between tho tVb.tdvvfrs itt^’ivibg and
evening rather than give up the cot
tage until more assured of the per
macy of his position.
* * * * * *
It was more than three years after
Ettio’s wedding, when one storm) 1
evening Mrs. Welborn was sitting
sewing over her fire, a fortunate wo
man in the eyes of her neighbor, a
most uiihappy one she knew in her
own heart.
Widowed while quite young, she
hud given to- Hugh, her only child,
a love that was littlo short of wor
ship, and it had known noeloud until
after Ettie Willard became Elliot
Boyd’s wife. From that day all joy
lmd gone from the mother’s heart,
for all her love had been powerless
to conquer the demon that was guid
ing her son to bis own destruction.
Sho lmd loved Ettie, had looked
forward with pleasure to one day
giving her a child’s place in her
homo, but she knew a woman’s love
could not bo forced, and she never
blamed the girl who gave her hand
where already she lmd given her
heart.
She was thinking of Ettie as she
stitched a wristband, dropping tears
often, and her eyes wore still dim,
when tho door opened and a hollow
“Child! child! you should have
come before,” said Mrs. Welborn,
sobbing; and us she spoke Hugh
came into, the room.
“Look at your work !” his mother
cried, with a quick passionate jest-
ure. “Yon have como to mo foi
sympathy more than once, pleading
your lovo for Ettie. Your love
Does lovo torture what it loves?
Yon aro my son, the very idol of
iny life, but I say to yon that your
work is the work of a fiend!”
•“Ettie,” he said, hoarsely, “you
—you are ill!”
eyed, pale shadow of the little bride
i f three years before catne in.
“Ettie!” she cried, amazed.
“Yob,” was the reply. “I never
expected to cross your door-sill, Mrs.
Welbourn, but I have como to beg!”
“My child!”
“Dive me food for the babies!
Elliot will not live many hours, and
I can die, too; but I cannot see tho
babies starve. Yon owe me some
thing,” she said, desperately “for
your son’s hate has brought us to
starvation. If Mr. Hendricks had
not been influenced, he would have
taken Elliot back when the now fac
tory failed. If Hnglr had not closed
every avenue against him, by his
falsehoods, Elliot would have found
work. You know it. And now when
hois prostrated by fever—the fever
cuused by troublo and starvation—
and I cannot sew for tho little pit
tance I have earned—I come to you,
because you owe me some repara
tion.”
am starving!” sho said. “Come
with mo aril see wlvafc your love 1ms
done for mo. ”
“Me followed mechanically as slm
hurried homeward, his mother only
stopping to gi vo somo orders to the
servants, before sho too took tho
same path.
Her steps were factoring as she
came up the garden walk to the lit
tle-eottago, and sho uttered a heart
broken cry as she looked upon tho
scene that mot Ivor eyes as slio opened
tlic door. All tho pretty furniture
bad been sold for food. Upon a
miserable iron bedstead, unconscious
-apparently dying—lay tho man
she thought so handsome, so strong
and true, while tho twin babies, not
two years old, wailed feobly upon a
mattress in one corner. Ettie was
kneeling Beside her husband, and
Hugh bonding over hor.
“Mother,” lie cried, seeing her,
you wore right! It is my bate, not
my love, that, has driven me on. I
repent! Oh, Ettie, if wo can sav8
him, you shall know I repent!”
It was the quick, passionate cry of
a bitter, sudden remorse, and Ettie
beai;d jr, in a stunned silence. Her
strength lmd given way at last, and
when Mrs. Welborn lifted hor sho
r \vas unconscious.
But the demon onco driven back
did not return. t last Hugh Wol-
born realized tlmt trno lovo seeks the
happiness of wlmt it loves, oven at.
the prico of self-sacrifice.
Many weary nights and days, fool
ing himself almost a murderer bo
nursed Elliot Boyd, praying as lie
lmd never prayed before in all his
lifo, for this man lie lmd so crushed,
to bo restored to health; while, in
her homo, Mrs. Welborn took care
of the children, putting a good nurse
in charge of the cottage and Ettie.
My story is done. The remorse
that kept Hugh besido Elliot urged
him on to perfect reparation, and
with renewed health there came also
tho promise of his old situation in
tho factory. Ettio recovered more
slowly, but when spring opened, a
happy family were once more united
in tho littlo cottage, and in their
places were all the familiar objects
that poverty had once driven out.
A Dinner as Peter tlie Great
Gave It.
A Texas man is traveling to New
York horseback to enjoy tho scenery
as lie goes along,
A sweet temper is to the houso
bold what sunshine is to the trees
iind,flowers.
Firemen’s balls are like women’s
hair, because they always come off
at night.
You may talk about tho “lean and
hungry Cassius,” but did you ever
take a side view of a man who has
run a store for ton years without ad
vertising?
Before a man deliberately makes
up his mind to be a raskul, lie shorn!
examine hisself cluely to ascertain ef
lie ain’t better constitooted fur a
phool.
A young lady says the reason she
carries a parasol, is that the sun is
of the masculine gender, and she can
not withstand his ardent glances.
A young Jady tgps recently cured
of palpi.ation of the heart by a young
doctor in the most natural way im
aginable. He held one of her hands
in his, put his arms round her waist
and whispered something in her left
ear.
At one of the grand dinners given
by the Czar, a huge pie was placed
in tho centre of the gentleman’s
table, out of which, when the star
tled carver broke the crust, u beauti
ful dwarf lady, in puris naturalilms,
all exoept a lioad dress, stepped, pro
posed in a set speech mid drank in a
glass of wine the health of tho com
pany, and then retired into her snug
retreat and was carried from the
table. A man dwarf was substituted
at tho ladies table. Did not Peter
say he c6uId reform his people but
not him soil ? A dinner party at the
Czar s must indeed have been a sight
not conceivable out of Bedlam, and
could have only been planned in the
maddest brain on earth if a manu
script among tho Sloane papers in
tho British Museum is believable.
Such practical jokes ! Such wild,
grotesque gambling / The frolios of
Leviathan. Tho laughter of a Titan,
as frightful in his fun as in his fury 1
There was accommodation ut the
Czar’s table for about a hundred ;
but t.bo grim humorist always issued
invitations to twice or thrice that
number, and loft bis guest to elbow,
jostle and tight for chairs and places,
and retain them against all comers
and claimants if they could. Not
infrequently a free light was extem
porized, and noses tapped, and e*'cn
the sacred persons of Hmhussiulors
have boon profanely touched and
trifled with. Tho Czar sat at I bo
bead of the table, a broad’ grin on
his face, rolling the spectacles like a
sweet morsel under bis tongue. The
guests are so closely packed that
feeding-room is not to bo thought of,
and ribs are ofton blackohcd and
driven in by active and vigorous
elbows, provoking* fierce reoriniina
tions and quarrels. The kitchen is
so near to the dilting-lmll that there
floats through the latter a fragrance
of onions, garlic and train oil, mel
lowed and tempered with more deli
cious aroma of the roast. The more
knowing and initiated guests wave
soups and such like eutables, and
manifest a special appetite for
tongues, hams, and viands that can
not bo tampered with or made the
vehicle of practical joking, for us
often as not it happens that a bunch
of dead mico will bo drawn out of
the soup or discovered snugly imbed
ded in a dish of green peas; and
sometimes, when bis guests have well
partaken of ceituin pastries, the Czar
will courteously inquire if the. cat,
wolf, raven, or other unclean animal
proved a savory or delicious morsel,
with wliat result lot the imaginative
guess. The approach tea regular
Denny brook was bastended on by
liberal supplies of bauidics, strong
ales, and wines so adroitly served out
as to expedite the grand climacteric
of drunkenness.—[Belgravia.
NO. 5.
middle-aged persons and serious
matters, sooner or later the man
awakens to the fact t hat his compeers
aro taking excellent care of them
selves—that his gonorous disposition
is known—that he is made use of.
One with grout wealth will mnke
this discovery sooner than a poor
person: for, having more to give,
more is asked of him.
The man>\vho has a fortune is be
set by people who have no claim
whatever upon him—impostors of all
sorts, and idle folks of every class.
Strangers write notes asking for
money—-call and beg for it—Attempt
to swindle him out of it—urge him
to save their pride by buying worth
less trash of all sorts. They offer
him bogus tickets for performances
never twebmc off, demand lurgosums
on the pleu t.luit his groat-grandmo
ther know their, great-grandfather’s
second cousin’s uncle at school; and,,
in fact, on every conceivable pretext,
endeavor to rid him of his often
lmrd-earned wealth.
A rich woman has the same expe
rience, to which is added tho insult
of mercenary offers of marriage from
men who desire to bo provided with
cigars and tobacco for tho remainder
of tlioir worthless lives.
Knowing this, as all tho world
must, how can wo oxpeot the mil
lionaire lo be as ready with his money
as .lack of the Bean-8talk?
“Apt lo refuse pecuniary favors to
applicants!” My dour friend, you.
and I would very soon understand
the reason if (ho world in general,
particularly (lie more worthless part
of it, were so continually asking fa
vors of us which no one could grant
without beggaring himself, unless ho
possessed tho purse of Fortunutns.
Tlu: Baker Cornered..
Naturally So.
“No ono is so apt to refuso a favor
requiring the expenditure of a little
money as a millionaire,” said some
one to me the othor day. I thought
tho mutter over, and finally cuino to
the conclusion that nothing was more
natural than that this should be so.
hirst, tho millionaire would never
have become one if lie had been in
the habit of dipping bis lingers into
his purse whenever he was requested
to do so. Secondly, being a million
aire, if ho did not lako woudrotin
care of his gold he would not have it
long. There is a luxury in saying
“Yes” which most people find it im
possible to forego. There is a diffi
culty in saying “No” that words can
not portray. People hate to bo called
“moan.” They like a smile and a
“Thank you” better than a ead or
angry expression of disappointment,
and for this reasou often do whet
they feel they uctimliy should not
do.
In youth, ull warm-hearted people!
are led by their natural impulses to
give perpetually, but us the young
creature grows older apd deals with '
Old Scroggins had cheated so
much, and so long, in the weight of
his loaves, that ho had como to look
upon bis light-weights ratnor in tho
light of so many jokes than as acta
that were wrong. But once upon a
time bo mot bis match in this sort of
joking. Two small boys entered his
front Bliop, where his bread was ex
posed for salo, one of whom advanced
to the counter and asked for a three
penny loaf. The baker took a loaf
from the shelf behind him and pass
ed it over. Tlie boy lifted tho bread
critically, and declared thut it was
not good weight.
“Never mind that ray hem,” said
tho breadmaker, looking the boyovor
bcnigiiantly. “You are a wee bit of
a lad, and you’ll have tho less to cur
ry.”
“True for you,” returned the boy;
and lie laid upon the counter three
half-pence.
“Hallo! What is this? I want,
just double that sum.”
“No, no, said tho urchin, casting
a glance at the man’s groat iron-bow
ed spectacles, “you’ve got poor eyes,
and you’ll have the less to count.”
The balcor in rage started to get
over Jiis counter, whereupon the lad
turned quickly and guvo tho loaf to
his companion, with,—“Itun for it
Scottio/ run!” And the socond little
boy caught the loaf and ran.
“Now, you littlo rascal!” cried the
baker, grasping boy Number One by
the arm, “what are you going to.
do?”
“I’m a goin’ to let you solid for a.
policeman; and I’ll tell him all about,
it.”
The baker was cornered, lie tried
to ox]Mmnd to tlie boy tho onormity
of his offenso, but. he realized that
ho was making a failure ft it, aucj
let him go.
“Sallio,” said a young map to big
red-haired sweothc-arL -‘keep your
head away from me; yon wj|| *pt ipp
on fire.” “No danger.” was' tho
contemptuous answer, “you arc too
green to burn.”
Mr* Cobb has married Miss Webb.
He says he know they wore to be
joined together as soon as he spied
Iwr,
