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VOL. 2. DUBLIN, GEORGIA, WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 6, 1870. NO. 7 OUR DEAD. The following from Father Ryan, our Southern poet, was published iu* Atlanta Memorial day: i. Do we weep for the heroes who died for us? Who living were true and tried for us? And iu death sleep side by side for us, With the blood that poured in a tide for us? n. Ah, fearless in many a day for us They stSod in front of the fray for us, And held the foemen at bay for us; Fresh tears.shall fall •Forever o’er all Who fell while wearing the gray for us. in. How many a glorious name for us, How many a story of fame for us They left! Would, it not be a shame for us If their memory part From our land and heart? And a grievous wrong and blame for us! TV. No—no—no—they were slain for us, And bright were the lives they gave for us; The land they struggled to save for us Can not forget Its warriors yet, Who sleep iu so many graves for us. v. No—no—no—they were slain for us, And their blood flowed out in a rain for us, Red, rich and pure on the plain for us; And years may go, But our tears shall flow O’er the dead who have died iu vain for us. VI. And their deeds, proud deeds, shall remain for us, And their names, dear names, without stain for us, And the glories they won shall not wane for us; In legend and lay Our. heroes in gray, Though dead, shall live over again for us. BURYING THE WRONG MAN. “There’s no bettor fellow than Bob Lindsay,” was the universal video of his neighbors,—“but for lm one failing,” they felt in coh- Bcicnee.bound to add. His one failing, a proneness to in dulge in strong drink, had been suffi cient to counterbalance all of Bob’s good qualities. Active, indnstrous and energetic, ho was a man gifted to mako his way in the world. In deed, many times success seemed within his grasp. But just at the critical moment, aud while his friends were hopefully saying, “If lie’ll only hold out!”—a sudden relapse would come, ami a week’s dissipation would squander the fruits of a month of sober industry. It was a sore trial, to Mary Lindsay to see her husband the slave of a loathsome appetite. Hers was a proud as well as loving he irt; and it stung her to note the look of sup pressed triumph visible on the faces of certain friends, in opposition to whose counsols she married hand some Bob Lindsay, in preference to rich, old and ugly Didymus Dodd. Whatever of Bob’s earnings had escaped , the rumscller’s gripe, had goue to buy a neat little home, which won hi have been a very happy one but for the one great 'drawback. Bob had given a mortgage- for a portion of the purchase money, and several times ho had raked together enough to pay it; Out just then his besetting temptation would overcome him, and the money instead of going to cancel the debt which lay like a load on Mary’s heart, and hung like a shadow over her home, would be worse than wasted. In the course of time and business this mortgage came into the hands of Didymus Dodd. From him Bob knew it would be useless to seek in dulgence, even had lie felt free to ask a favor of Didymus Dodd—a humiliation at which his own, as well as Mary’s pride revolted. With that will and earnestness which, had so often before carried Bob to tho verge of success, and needed only persevcrauco to assure it, the required sum was once more accumulated. “You must trust mo this time, Mary,” said Bob, with a parting kiss, the morniug he started to town to carry tho money to Didymus Dodd’s lawyer, who had possession of the mortgage. With a fervent prayer that he might not be lead into temptation, Mary returned her husband’s kiss, and went about her daily cares, filled with anxiety for what the day may bring forth.' Bob felt brave and strong till he came in sight of tho cross-roads tav ern. Old Roan, from tho force of habit, turned his head toward his accustomed hitching-place. Bob urged him i n, and in a moment more would have been out of danger. But just then the demon of irresolu tion took possession of his soul. “It’s a sultry day,” Bob soliloquiz ed “and a glass of something cool— just one—can do no harm.” Old Roan, given his head, was soon rubbing his noge, in friendly recognition, against the sign-post, while his master was exchanging sal utations with the host withiii. • v “A cold whiskey-toddy, Mr. Spiggott,” said Bob ; “a pair of ’em, 1 mean, for I hope yon will do me the honor of your company; and you friend,” turning to a seedy-looking stranger in the corner, “won’t you join us?” “He of the spedy looks “didn’t care if he did,” and stepped forward into lino without more words. Tho toddies appeared and disap peared in a twinkling. Then a three-handed chat was stuck up, and tho toddies were several times re peated—all at Bob’s expense, for there wasn’t a stingy drop in his blood. The seedy stranger made himself so pleasant that Bob was glad to learn they were going the same road. He even offered to share old Roan with his new friend on the old-fashiomfd plan of “ride and tie;” but the latter declined politely, saying, as they were only going a short way togothor lie would manage to keep up afoot if Bob didn’t ride too fast. Another round of drinks, and Bob and the stranger took their departure in “right memo” humor. “Here,” said the latter, when they had reached the heart of tho forest, where a foot-path branched from tho main road, “we must part for my way is by this path.” Bob expressed his regret at the en forced separation, and was on the point of reluctantly assuming his journey, when the stranger begged him to alight for a short rest. “Hero’s a nice cool place' among the bushes,” added tho stranger; “and here’s a little something for refreshment.” producing a Hat bot tle from his pocket; “our chat has been so pleasant that I’d like to enjoy half an hour more of it.” • Bob was in no mood to bo unsocia ble, and he and his companion were soon seated side by side on a log, as Cosily us General Marion and tho British officer the day they dined on sweet potatoes served on a piece of pine bark. The stranger uncorked tho bottle and handed it to Bob. “What is it ?” inquired tho latter. “Brandy,” the other answered. “Health and happiness!”said Bob, by way of preface to a good gulp. A gurgling groan escaped him. The flask dropped from his hand. His throat burned as though scorched with fire. Ilis temples throbbed. A confused buzzing filled his ears. A sense of numbness filled his brain, and lie fell to the ground uncon scious. ' In a trice the stranger dragged him into a thicket, and stripping him of his outer garments, replaced his own therewith, and mounting Roan, rode off into tho woods with Bob’s clothes and money. Tho robber was afraid to venture fai till night set in. Then, under cover of darkness, he hurried for ward, hoping by daylight to be well out of reach. Soon a river intercepted his flight. It was swollen by recent rains, and the rapid current made its passage dangerous to those not accustomod to the ford. “Surely, this must bo tho right place,” muttered the robber; “I ob served it closely yestorday; yes, this is the spot.” Poor Roan recoiled and shied, but his ridor-epurred him on. A headlong plunge buried horse and rider bonoath tho surging waters. The two came up again but separated. With a violent struggle tho horse clambered up tho bank; but tho man was swept swiftly dawn vainly contending against the angry flood 1 ■* Days after, tho body of a drowned man was found whero it had boon borne by tho current. Tho features were past recognition, but it was identified by tho garments as that of Bob Lindsay. Poor Mary was heart-broken. With all Bob’s faults—or rather in spite of his one fault—she loved him dearly. And when the funeral was over, she sat down in her desolate home, and mourned and would not be comforted. * * * * . * ■'# When Bob awoke from his stupor, and discovered what a plight ho was in—money, horse, and raiment, all gone—it is impossible to describe his remorse and shame. “I can never look Mary in the faco again,” ho exclaimed. “Dodd will be pitiless. Her home which sho loves so well, will be sold ovor her head. No! I can novor look her in the face again!” Clothing hirasolf, perforce, in the rags left by tho robber, he wandered on aimlessly, and for many days lived like another tramp. But at lust, a change came ovor his spirit. It was cowardly to desert Mary thus. Ho would go buck and bear his share of- the troublo, and as much of hors as lie could. Once for all he would be a man, find this tithe there should bo no slip. Aud he turned again totvard his home. At length he reached tho rivor, and as ho walked along the margin to find the? ford, which lay some way above, his eyes fell on an object partly imbedded iu,tJio mud. He caught it up eagerly and oxam od it. An exclamation of joy burst upon his lips, and he pressed forward with redoubled speed. Ho soon reached tho ford which he passed without difficulty, (for the water had fallen considerably,) aud at njghtfall was at his own door. At tho sound of tho words within, ho paused on tho threshold. “If I could ever love another after poor Bob,” said Mary’s broken voice, “it would never bo you, Didymus Dodd, who ought to bo ashamed to choose my hour of sorrow to insult mo!” “ You shall either man y mo or leave this house!” rotumed tho harsh tones of Didymus Dodd. “She’ll do neither, villian!” thun dered Bob, bursting in liko a shot. Didymus stai tod as at tho sight of a ghost; but in an instant Mary’s arms were about Bob’s nock, “Oh, Bob! Bob !” sho cried, “I thought you woro doad and buried. First, old Roan came homo without you; then they found a man drowned in your clothes, and wo buried him for you.” Bob’s story soon dispelled tho mys tery. Didymus Dodd ground his teeth with fury. “I’ll sell you out all tho same,” he growled, spitefully. “Not so fast,” answered Bob; “I have got the monoy to pay your pal try mortgago.” “Why, I thought you wore rob bed?” “So I was, but I found my pocket- book all right to-day whore it was wushed from tho thief’s pockot. Bob paid off the mortgage and never drank again; and now lie and Mary are tho huppiest couple, and one of the best to-do in all that country. For rest, go to the forest,—Bos ton Rost. Sarsaparilla. Yesterday afternoon a red-faced young man belonging to an excursion party called into a Woodward Avcnno drug store and softly asked the soda fountain hoy if ho was out of any particular kind of syiup. Tho boy made an investigation and replied : ‘Wo aro out of Sarsaparilla, but—’ ‘That’s all right—all right—you wn it a m imi to, ’ i n terrupted the you ng man, and ho went away. Tho boy toek. tho empty rosorvoir from the fountain and rofillod it, and in abopt five minutes the young man tenirnbd wi th his girl and four other people,•’'evidently friends. Walking up to tho fountain, ho said: ‘I’m going to take sarsaparillu in mine, for the doctors all recommend it, and if ho hasn’t any sarsaparilla I won’t take nothing. What do you say ?’ ‘Oh, we’ll take the sumo,’ they replied. Tho young man began to smile, and his left oyo began to draw down, but what was his horror to soo the boy draw off six glasses in succession and push them to tho front, where they wor^ eagerly drained of their contonts. Ho tried to give tho boy a look of mingled hate and murder ous intent, but the lad was too busy to 8eo it. Ho felt in all his pockets, brought up watch koys, ponnios and peanuts, and finally laid down twen ty-seven cents, and whispered to. the bov: ‘That takes my pile, and if I ever catch you outside of town, I’ll lick you to death.’—Free Press. Savannah Nows: Tho lovers of gonuino American humor will bo pleased to learn that Messrs. T. B. Peterson & Brother; the woll-kuown Philadelphia publishers, have in press and will shortly issue a now and enlarged edition of “Major Jones’s Courtship,” a work that has universally uccordod tho reputation of boing.ono of tho vory best humor ous books of tho century, as since its publication, more than thirty years ago, it has hold a position at the lioad of Peterson’s humorous library, and has passed through numerous editions, having a larger sale than any other book of its class. While other books of humor, many of greater pretensions, have had tran sient popularity and passed into ob livion, tho quaint narration of Geor gia rustic’s courtship is as fresh to day and as popular with tho prosont generation of readers as it was with thoso who first welcomed it to the world of lottore over a quarter of a century ago. This fact, a most practical ovidonco of its enduring popularity, has induced the Messrs. Peterson to offoct firrangomonts with its accomplished author, (our worthy and veteran senior) for publication of a new, revised aud improved edition, ornbrueing now matter, and beauti fully illustrated with twonty-ono full page engravings. When it is considered that tho edition 1ms lmd the careful revision of tho author, will be rendered most attractive by additional scenes and incidents, and will bo printed from now platos, on fine paper, it is almost reasonable to predict for it an almost unpreceden ted sale, surpassing that which greet ed its first appearance. The new edition will ho a handsome volume, comprising about 300 pages, and will be bound in cloth and paper. In the latter form tho price will bo only seventy-five cents. Food lor Reflection. A North Carolina widower has been arrested while attempting to sell a sot of false teeth belonging to his deceased wife’s estate, to procure funds for the purchase of a suit in which to marry a second wife. Few men are quite fit to livo. Patience is God’s own medicine. Darkness, solicitude and remorse are a grim and hatoful company. The tost of moral character is not infallibility but recuperativo power. Often a rosorvo that hides a bittor humiliation seems to he haughtiness. A groat oxporionoo transforms. We must even be more or loss than our old selves. When the human mind gots down to hub-deop in a rut of thinking it is hard to lift it out. It is so hard for us to Undorstaiid why our friends do not fool our wrongs so poignantly as wo do. Tho approval and pious way of gossiping is to sweeten scandal with the'trouble of honiilizing inforoncos. Nothing in this social universe is so utterly thrown away and troddon under foot as a dishonored woman. Hero-making is a.woman’s work; oven your seiiBiblo and pruetieal woman must take to hero-making sooner or later. Tlio motaphysics of salvation are not of so much consequence, wlion one is engaged in tho practice of suv- ing men. Envy and malice aro devils that drive possessed souls into the con templation of that which aggravates their madness. It is ono of, tho advantages of women, that not protending to he logical, they can cliango front, on tho instant, when tlioy see lit. There is no safe ground for a good sound prcachor, but to attack anciont wickedness and the sins and super stitions of foreign countries. Judicious Advertising. A young man, the other day, got married against the wishes of his parents, and, requesting a friend to break it to them, said: ‘Tell them I am dead, old follow; and gently work them up to the climax.’ A man was denouncing newspaper advertising to a crowd of listeners. ‘Last wook,’ said ho, ‘I had an um brella stolon from tho vostibulo of the —- ohuroll. It was a gift; and, valuing' 1 !* t vory highly, 1 spent dou ble its worth iu advertising, hut have riot recovered. it.’ ‘How did you word your advertisement?’ asked a merchant. ‘Hero it is,’ said tho man, producing a slip ,out from a nowspapor. Tho merchant took it and road: ‘Lost from the vestibule of church last Sabbath evening, a black silk umbrella. Tho gentle man who took it will be handsomely rewarded by leaving it at No. ■ San Fernando street.* ‘Now,’ said the merchant, ‘I am a liberal adver tiser, and have always found that it paid mo wolb A great deal dopends upon tho manner in which an adver tisement. is put. Let us try for your umbrella again, and if you do not acknowledge then that advertising pays, I will purchase you a now ono.’ Tho .merchant then took a slip of paper from his pocket and wrote: ‘If the man who was seen to tako an umbrella from tho vostibulo of the church last Sabbath oveniug docs not wish to got into trouble and havo a stain east upon tho Christian characler which lie values so highly, lie will return it to No. San Fernanda street, Ho is well known.’ This duly iippoarod in the paper, and on the following morning the man was astonished when he opeuod the frontdoor of his residence. Outlie porch lay at least a dozen umbrollas of all shades and sizes tliut lmd boon thrown in from tho sidowulk, while tho front yard was*literally paved with umbrellas. Many of them had notes attached to thorn saying thut they had been taken by mistake, and bogging tho loser to keep tho little affair quiet.-^-Saturday Magazine. Somebody patiy observes that no man should livo boyond the means of his creditors. A Davenpoal (la.) lady is about to sue for u divorce on the ground that her hiislmud ‘has no style about him.’ .Every dog has his day. Now’s the timo—those are dog days. Wlmt to Teach Boys. A philosopher 1ms said tint true education for hoys is to “teach them what they ought ;.<> know when they bocomo mon,” What, is it they ought to know, then? First: T$j& true, to bo genuine. No education is worth anything that does not, in clude this. A man lmd bettor not know how to read—he hud better never louVn a letter in the alphabet, ami bo truo and gonuino in intention mid in action, rather than being learned in- all sciences and all lan guages, to be at the same time false in heart and counterfeit in life. Above all things, teach the boys that truth is more than riches, moro than oulturc, more than earthly power or position. Second: To bo pure in thought, language and life—pnro in mind and in body. An impure man, young or old, poisoning tho society whero ho moves with smutty stories and impure oxumplos, 1b amoral ul cer, a plaguo-spot, a leper who ought to be treated us woro tho lopers of old, who wore banished from sooioty and compelled to ory “nncloan” as a warning to save others from pesti lence. Third: To be unselfish; to ca.ro for tho feelings and comforts of others; to bo polite; to bo gonorous, noble and manly. This will include a genuine reverence for tho agod and things sacred, fourth: To bp self- reliant and solf-helpful, oven from early childhood; to bo industrious always, and self-supporting at tho earliest proper age. Touch thorn that all honest work is honorable, and that, an idle, useless life of de pendence on others is disgraceful. When a hoy lms learned those four things, when holms tnado thoso idoas a part of his boing—however young ho may bo, however rich or however •poor, lie lms learned some of tho most important things ho ought to know when he becomes a man. With thoso four properly mastered, it will ho easy to find all tho rest. .Shanghai Angels. The little hoys and girls were as sembled on a pleasant afternoon in the leoturo mom, and tho tcachor told thorn all about heaven und tho angels. Her remarks wore illustrat ed by pictures representing angels with snowy wings. A bright and aspiring little boy,'whose oyes sooms to glisten with delight in contem plating the pictorial representations, suddenly exclaimed: “Toucher, when I’m an angel, I want to bo a regular shanghai,” “A what?” said tho toucher, some what shocked at such a word. “A Shanghai,” repeated the can didate for celestial favors. “I want feathers on my legs.” The class was tlion dismissed. ■ “Lot tho Mud Dry First.” Hero is a capital lesson that may well bo impressed upon the memory of both young aud old; Mr. .Spur- goon, in walking a little way out of London to preach, clmnccd to got his pantaloons quite muddy. A good deacon met him at tho door and de sired to got a brush and takeoff some of the mud. ‘Oh, no,’ said Mr. 8., ‘don't you boo it is wot, aud if you try to brush it now; you will rub tho stain into tho cloth? Let it dry, when it will come off easy enough and leave no mark.’ Bo, when mon speak evil of us falsely—throw mud at us—don't bo iu a hurry about brushing it off. Too greater eager ness to rub it off is apt to rub in.— Lot it dry; by and by, if need bo, a littlo effort will romovo it. Don’t foster scandal about yourselves or others, or trouble in a society, or in a church, by haste to do something. Lot it alone; lot it dry; it will bo easier eradicated tlmn you think in the first heat of excitement. Time has a wonderful power iu such mut ters. Vory many things in this world will bo easily got over 1; diciously ‘letting them dry.’