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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,