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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,