Newspaper Page Text
VOL. 2.
DUBLIN, GEORGIA, WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 13, 1879.
GOOD OLD-FASHIONED DATS.
It wasn’t so when I was young;
We used plain language then;
We did not speak of "them galloots,”
When meaning boys or men.
When speaking of the nice Land-write
Of Joe or John or Bill,
We did it plain; we didn’t say,
"He slings a nasty quilL”
The boys sometimes got mad and fit,
And spoke of kicks and blows,
But now they "whack him in the snoot,”
And “paste him on the nose.”
They used to dance when I was young,
And used to call it so,
But now they don’t; they only "trip
The light fantastic toe.”
We praised a man with common sense—
“His judgement’s good,” we said;
But now they say: "Well, that old plump
Has got a level head.”
Of death we spoke in language plain,
That no one could perplex;
But in these days one doesn’t die—
He "passes in his checks."
It’s very sad the children now
Arc learning all such talk;
They’ve learned to "chin” instead of chat,
And “waltz” instead of walk.
To little Harry yesterday—
My grandchild, aged two—
I said, “Do you love grandmii?”
Said he, "You bet your boots I do!”
The children bowed to strangers once,
It is no longer so;
The little girls, as well as boys.
Now greet you with “halloo /”
O / give me hack the good old diys
When both the old and young
Conversed in plain, old-fashioned words,
And slang was never “slung.”
A HEROINE IN RAGS.
Jacqueline Dubois was not, French,
though her name would seem to in
dicate that such was the case. She
was ,an American working girl of
mi^ed parentage, .her father being of
French extraction, and her mother a
true horn American.
She Intel neither beauty nor educa
tion to assist her -to gain a livelihood;
hence sbo was obliged to toil daily in
sin immense factory, along with at
Insist a hundred other unfortunate
girls and women.
The fsictory was rattling, and buz
zing si way in the midst of one of the
busiest parts of the great city. It
had boon there for years, and its tall,
grimly bhick walls stood like a spec
tre amid the busy marts of trade
which surrounded it.
The office of the factory was upon
the giournl floor, easy of access and a
model of eas.e, elegance and comfort.
The owner was very robust, fat in
opulence: ja prominent member of an
tip-town church. A man whose
name was frequently seen in the
daily papers heading some subscrip
tion for the foreign missions with a
liberal donation. It was a good ad
vertisement. He liked it. It paid
well.
This good man’s factory room,
where his hundred female slaves
toiled through the week to fatten Ins
already adipose purse, did not pos
sess a seat, except a few boxes the
girls had begged from the store room
to revive their weary bodies after
their limbs had given out and refus
ed lunger to support them. These
girls worked from 7 o’clock in the
morning until 0 at night for—how
much? Not enough to-buy food for
their sustenance, not enough to keep
life-blood in their muscles. It is the
bitter truth, as many knoty too well,
that the majority of these workers
receive only two or three dollars per
week, or less than fifty cents per
day.
Then, hanging oyer them like a
Datnoclean sword, is the docking
system, which eats into their wages
like a hungry rat into malt. These
Ukrd working souls have made the
opulent proprietor, who now can
spare scarcely an hour a day for bus
iness, as hia timo is entirely taken up
by drives, clubs, public gatherings
and other pleasures.
In this den—yes, den!—that is the
right word. What better name for
a place where young girls are taught
that their time is almost worthless,
and learn the uselessness of honest
effort? In this den Jacqueline
Dubois labored.
She was a very earnest worker, and
wonderfully adept, consequently she
was one who received three dollars
each week. She was generous to a
fault, and frequently divided the
scanty lunch she had provided with
a fellow worker less fortunate than
herself. Thus she made friends, and
thus she made enemies, for the envi
ous and small-souled cannot call gen
erosity friend.
Some few girls there who dressed
much better than their position
should indicate, thus making their
means of procuring their finery
equivocal, looked down upon her
and sneeringly reniaakod:
“That Jac. Dubois is terribly stuck
up for as homely a girl as she is.”
Bnt blessed is a plain, houest face
to a girl in such circumstances, as it.
keeps her from temptations and mis
eries.
Jac. Dubois, as they called her,
had a larger soul and a more intre
pid spirit, than all the envious. lot
put together.
It was a bright, sunny day in May,
almost the first bright day we hud
experienced. It cheered the hearts
of the girls and incited them with
renewed efforts. Juc. Dubois had
worked all the forenoon, but she was
not tired, she was happy. Her face
sparkled with vivacity and her month
wreathed itself in many, smiles. She
lmd been singing while she worked,
singing snatches of Mission School
melody, which harmonized strangely
with the whir of the machinery.
The reason she was so happy was
because her mind was filled with the
image of a young and handsome
man. She had met George Durham
a few .evenings at a friend’s. He was
a young carpenter, and a hard-work-
imr man. They had since been
walking together, and ho asked her
if lie might linger near the factory
after working hours and walk with
her homeward.
It was two long miles from the
factory to Jac.’s home; bnt. tho poor
have to live where the rent is cheap,
and may have a greater distance than
this to walk after a day’s work.
It was the hour of noon. Jac.
bad eaten her luncheon and made
known her determination of going
down the street to get a breath of
fresh air. Several girls offered to
accompany her, so that quite a num
ber were in the party that strolled
down the sunny street to a busy
thoroughfare below. As they
neared the crossing quite a crowd
met them, surging both ways. A
few of the girls stopped on the cor
ner to ogle a party of mechanics,
who sat with tin pails between their
blue over-ailed legs, eating the cold
bite which nature craved.
Three girls attempted to cross the
street. One of them was Jac. Du
bois, Coming toward them from the
other side was a nurse and child,
about four years old. As the nurse
endeavors to pull the little one along
it stumbles and falls, tho woman re
laxes her hold upon tho little white
hand and springs forward to avoid
the approach of an express wagon.
The child knows not its danger,
but the bystanders see it. The nuvso.
and several women scream, but no
one tries to save it. Tho burly dri
ver tries in vain to cheek the restive
horses. Almost miraculously they
step over tho little croaturo lying so
helpless there without even abraidiug
the skin. But see! the lovely little
head with its clustering curls is di
rectly in the course of the heavy tir
ed wheel. No one can grasp tho in
fant, and no one stirs. What an in-
stunt, what terrible suspense, when
the by-standers expect to hear in
an instant the cracking bones of the
child’s head.
Stay/ One hand does strive to
grasp the infant and fails. What
can she do—a slight girl ? “What
is Jac. Dubois doing?” springs into
the bruin of her companions.-
Readily the girl saw that nothing
could save the child’s life but ac-
rifice and that sacrifice—God knows
from a pure heart—was made. Her
sloudcr foot was placed firmly before
tho ponderous wheel, then she grasp
ed the spokes and pushed with all
her strength to change its course.
It turned from its former track just
sufficient to avoid the infant’s head;
but in its revolution it crushed poor
Jac.’s foot out of all shape.
The child was quickly.picked up
by one of the by-stundors and brush
ed oil by the frightened nurse, who
tried to quell its sobs, while her own
tears were chasing each other .down
her cheeks. Tho inanimate form of
out poor heroine was laid upon the
broad flagging of the sidewalk. She
had fainted.
“Brave girl! Who is she?” said a
benevolent old gentleman, who had
just approached, attempting at tho
same time to chafe some life into her
hands.
“Only Jac. Dubois,” answered one
of her former companions, who was
already surmising what change her
abscence from the factory would oc
casion in her particular work, and
hoping to step in her place.
“Jac. Dubois! Oh, heaven is it
Jac?” cried one of tho young carpen
ters, his pail being flung from him
into the street, and he bouding down
and looking intently into the young
girl’s face.
“You know her, then ?” question
ed the old gentleman.
“Yes, sir, 1 do.”
“Will yon caro for lu-r? She should
have immediate attention. You
ought to take her to the nearest sur
geon.”
“She will have it, sir. I will do
so. Rd”—to a workman—“get a
carriage for me.”
“She is a noble girl,” said the old
gentleman, looking down at her.
“Who is she? WJjore-ttoca .mIkj live?-
I should like to call upon her.”
“Jacqueline Dubois, No. 920
Spring street, Will you help me
put her into tho carriage.
Various offers wore made to put
the maimed girl into tho carriage.
It was successfully accomplished,
and the vehicle rolled away to obtain
medical aid for tho sufferer.
The spectators dispersed, tho girls
returning to complete their day’s
work. The old gentleman stopped
up to tho nurse, who was knqgpng in
the doorway still brushing tlm parti
cles of dust from the child’s dress.
He had only seen the crippled girl
and beheld her heroic action from a
distanco.
“My good woman, who is this?
Wlnit! Agnes—Graoie?”
“Oh, Mr. Lull in, you won’t dis
charge me, will you? The baby is
safe and sound, and I’ll .buy her a
new frock. I couldn’t help it, sir—
indeed, indeed, in—”'
“Papa, papa!”
Mr. Laflin took his baby in his
arms,' and kissing her dear littlo
face, turned from the. nurse without
a word and gazed in the direction of
the rapidly disappearing vehicle, un
til the large tears gathering in his
oyos rolled down his cheeks.
“Noble girl! Noble, girl ! Her
foot for my child’s lifo! But slio
shall not suffer if money can repair
the damage.”
Byron Laflin was very rich.
“Jacqueline Dubois, No. 920
Spring stroet.”
The old gentleman put it down in
his note-hook, as he called a carriage
to take tho careless uui’so and his
only, his darling child, Graeio, to
their magnificent homo. As he
pressed her to his bosom her life
seemed doubly dear, as he thought
of the recent danger of her narrow
escape.
******
Jacqueline Dubois lies in the only
bed room on tho first floor of her
humble home. The injured foot has
been properly cared for, hut the
physicians gave little encouragement
to her ever walking upon it again
without the aid of a crutch.
By her side is this young and
pleasant-faced carpenter,
Dnnham. He is holding her hand.
“George, where is mother?”
“Gjbne to have your father come
hon^ from his work.”
“It is too had,” sho nioantd - .
“Fathor will lose a day, and you will
lose a day, and I—oh, I can never
work again!”
“Never mind, dear, don’t cry. If
you will only let George Dunlmm
provide a homo for you, you will
never want while ho has strength.”
“Oh, Georgo.. are you in earnest—
or do you say this out. of pity? The
doctor says! am never to use'my
foot. What could you do with a ono
leggqd wife?” and thd poor suffering
girl essayed a laugh, wliioh only ond-
ed in a Sob of anguish.
“Yes, indeed, Jno., I do want
you. How can I help loving you,
knowing as I do, what you did to
day.”
“Oh, I couldn’t help that.”
“No, indeed, a heroic action is tho
first impulse of a brave heart.”
Knock 1 Knock!
“See who it is, Georgo.”
“And your answer is—”
“I love you!”
In,a fow moments Georgo returned
bearing in his hand a lottor address
ed to Jac.
“Read it to mo, George,” she said,
as she closed her eyes and set her
tooth, determined to bear tho excru
ciating pain without a cry.
City, May 5, 1877.
Miss Dubois:—Enclosed I send
von my check for $3,000. This is
but an installment of what. I intend
you shall have. My daughter’s lifo
is dearer to me than all my woulth.
This you preserved by sacrificing ono
of your prospects, and weeks and
mouths of pain. I will call soon and
make your acquaintance; but I can
not hesitate an instant in giving you
A MIDNIGHT COLIC.
Bill Arp’s Internal Troubles.
a sub^tinitifll taken-of nVy>obligaLionv’ dred dollars for his vote. A sound,
My djfar girl, a thnukfnl'fathor blcss-
jwyqu. —■ . .liYKoif Lapi. in.
“George, is nil this for mo?” quer
ied the- bewildered girl, eyeing tho
check. “I’ll give.it to father so he
can pay off tho mortgage. George,
I am glad I aid it,” v
I know you are, dear. Jac., wo
will forget what I said a fow mo
ments ago.”
Wlmt for, George?” she asked pa
thetically.
“You will now be amply provided
for.”
“No, George, not wholly provided
for, unless I Imvo you to share it.”
Two Irish moil traveling on the
Baltimore and Ohio Railroad track,
came to a milo post, whoa one of
them said: “Tread easy, Pat. Here
lies a man 108 years old. IIis name
was miles from Baltimore.”
A man in stopping his paper re
cently wrote: “I think folks doan’t-
er spend their money on papers my
fathor never did cvy body said he
was the smartest man in thokountrio
and lmd got the intelligentest family
of bu-oys that nver dug tutors.”
“Children,” said the teacher, ad
dressing the infant class, “Children
do you know you were born in sin ?”
‘Please, sir,” interrupted a littlo
one, “I was born in Atlanta.”
“Well, that’s tho same thing,”
said the teacher, impatiently, “Do
not interrupt me again.”
“llavo you a mother-in-law?”
asked a man of a disconsolate-look
ing person. “No,” lie replied; “but
I’ve a father in jail.”
When Patrick was told that the
price of bread had fallen, lie ex
claimed: “That is the first time I
Ivor rejoiced at the fall of my hist
friend.”
No man can tell just how much
money a. widow is worth until he
murrics her for it. It is one of tlioso
eases whore you have to take your
chances,
If the first hen came from uu egg,
where did the egg come from.
Fred Harden, of Robertson, N. C.,
nearly 103 years old, has just pro
fessed religion.
Atlanta Constitution;
I once heard of a grnmblin old
farmer who made a big crop of very
fine corn and on boing congratulated
about it, said:
“Well, yes; my corn is all mighty
fine, but I don’t know how I’ll got
along without some nubbins to feed
tho steers on.”
lb’s a raining now every day, but
il came a little ton late, and we'll all
have plenty of steer food this year.
I reckon wo will make some tolornblo
corn on tho bottoms, and the late
planting is coming out smartly. If
misory loves company wo can take
comfort like tho darkoy did that Mr.
Stephens told about in his speocli,
for poor crops are a pretty general
tiling in this miborhood.
But maybe its all right—for wo did
make an abundltnco of wheat, and it
ain’t too late to make right smart
cotton and git 15 cents a pound for
it. A man ought to bo reconeilod to
wlnit lie cannot help, that is unless
ho owos a little passel of money ho
can’t pay and is rominded of it onco
a mouth on a postal card. That’s
bad ain’t it? Or unless ho has got n
lot of sickly, no account children. I
tell Mrs. Arp wo ought to he mighty
tlmnuful, for theros narryono of the
ten Units cross-eyed or knock-need
or pigun-tood or box-aiikled or sway-
backed or bump-shouldered or lame
or blind or idiotic, and tho grand
children are an improvement upon
the stock, and I don’t believe any of
oin will ever git to the poorhouso or
carry a pistol or go to the legislature
and have some follor qffei'.om -a lum-
healthy body is a great blessing, mid
a fair set-off to most ovory kind of
bad luck that can happen to a man.
Mr. Beecher was right when lie said
the first rulo to insure good health
was to select good, healthy piirents
to bo born from. My ruminations
on this subject have been quite lu
minous of late, for I’ve been power
ful sick. Tho fact is, I liked to llavo
died tho other night, and all of a
sudden. Yon sou I had over-worked
myself a fixing up a turnip patch,
and got wet besides, and didn’t stop
for dinner, and was sorter hungry
and bilious to start on and we lmd
roiisten ears for supper and butter
milk and honey, and takiii it all
together I took the green corn dance
about midnight and the small of my
hack caved in and from then until
daybreak I never got up, nor lay
down, nor stood still a minute,
Doubled up and twisted and jerked
around with exerneiatin pains, I ca
vorted all over one side of the house,
for wo had some Atlanta company
on the other, and my groauings wore
worse than a foundered mule. It
was just awful to behold and awful-
lev to experience. Spirits of ttirpen
tine, eumphiro, hot water, mustard
plaster, mush poultice, paregoric,
Jamaica ginger wore all used exter
nally and intorimlly, hut no relief.
I trotted around and paced and fox
trotted and hugged the bed post and
laid down and rolled over on the floor,
like a hundred dollar horse, and my
wife, Mrs. Arp. she trotted around
too and dosed mo with this thing and
that thing and had the stove fired up
and hollered for hot water forty times
before she got it.
I told you not to work so hard in
the hot sun,” said she. “O, Lordy,”
said I.
“I uskedyou to chango your clothes
as soon as you came to the house and
you didn’t do it.” “0 my country,”
said I.
“Don’t Wftko up tho company,”
she continued. “And you would oat
them roasten earn for supper—did
ever anybody hear of a man eating
roasten ears for supper and then wash
em down with buttermilk and hon
ey.” “Oh rny poor back,” said I.
“Do you reckon its your back—
aint it further round in front?”
“Oh, no,” said I, “its everywhere,
NO. 8
its lumbago, its siatiken, its Bright’s
disease, its Etna and Vesuvious all
mixed up. Oh, I’m so sick—cunt,
nobody do nothin?”
“Poor fellow, poor William, I’m
so sorry for you bnt you will wake
up the company if you don’t mind—
I’m doing everything I can. You’ve
taken enough things now to kill you.
I declare I dont know wlmt to do
next and all this comes fiom movin
to tho country, live miles from a
drug store or a doctor. I told you
how it would bo—plnmbags and
skyatlikor and a bright disease, and
the Lord knows what, and I wouldn’t
boa bit surprised if you lmd the
yellow fever to boot—caught it a
tram pi n around Memphis and its
just broke out on you. Poor man,
if lie does die, wlmt will become of.
us? But if lie gets well ho'll go and
dn the samp thing over again. Don’t
grunt so loud. I declare you make
enough noise to wake up a graveyard,
I nover saw such a man. Uorc, try
this inusli poultico. Does it burn
you?” “Oh, yes, it burns; but tiro
is nothin now, lot it burn. Oh! I’m
so sick. Bring mo the parogaric or
tho laudanum or something, l eant
stand it ten minutes longer,” said I.
“There ain’t a drop left. You’ve
taken all. Thorp’s nothing but
chloroform, mid I’m so afraid of
that, but innybe it will relievo you
William, My poor William, how I
do Imte to see you suffer so, but you
will never do as 1 tell you. Do pleaso
dont wujko up tho company.
Well, I look the chloroform Unit
went to sleep—to the Igi^qiy' hind—
nil-blessed relief, antf when I waked
I was easier, and in duo timo was
restored to my normal condition. In
my gyrations my mind was exceed
ingly active. I ruminated over my
past life, and could find a little com
fort in Wlmt Leo Htint wrote about
soinq Arab who wits admitted. to
heaven hocmiso ho loved his follow-
men. Just so I lmvo loved mine,
that is, except some. I thought
about money in' comparison with
health and freedom from piun, and
I foltsuoh tin utter disgust for riches
it made rue sick at the stomach. I
would have given a house full of gold
for two minutes cessation of tlioso
internal hostilities.
Well, I kept this numerous and
interesting family in a lively stato
for a few long hours, and it taught
me a useful lesson. I'm going to
take care of myself; I’m going to do
everything Mrs. Arp tells mo, for
she lms, got sense—she has. Who
takes cure of herself—not a gray hair
in hor head, and she is ns bright as
the full moon; and when sho gives
an opinion it is an opinion. From
that horrible night’s experience I am
more than ever satisfied sho loves mo
as well as over and wouldn’t swap me
off for nobody. When I stand up
before her and say “juror look upon
the prisoner—-prisoner look upon tho
juror,” sho always says “content.”
And then she has such a cousidomfo
regard for hor “company. ”
Bill Abp.
While ono of the colored candidates
was being baptized in Madison Sun
day, one of his colored friends stole
his shoes.
Mrs. Crandall, of Kansas, Treas
urer of an association for the roliof
of colored women and children, bus
been sued for $0,000 contributed to
the association. The benovolcnt
treasurer explains that she loaned
$4,000 of this money to hor husband
in an emergency. There arc other
relief societies to hear from,
To bo silent about an injury makes
the doer of it more uneasy than com
plaints.
Hon. Jefferson Davis is said now
to be one of tho lurgpst landowners
in Mississippi.
There’s many u man whose Highest
ambition is to successfully contest
a spat on a imi! keg in corner gro
cery,