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VOL. 2.
THE SAUCY ROGUE.
PnOM THE GEHltAN.
There is a saucy rogue, well known
To youth and gray-beard, maid crone—
A boy, with eyes that mirth bespeak,
With curly locks and dimpled cheek;
He has a sly, demurish air;
But, maiden fair.
Take care, take care !
His dart may wound you. unaware !
With bow and arrows in liis hand,
He wanders up aud down the laud;
’Tis jolly sport to aim his dart
At some poor maiden’s fluttering heart;
She wonders what has hurt there—
. Ah, maiden fair,
Take care, take care /
His dart may wound you, unaware !
Her nimble hands the distaff ply; .
A gallant soldier-lad rides by;
He gives her such a loying glance
Her heart stands still, as in a trance,
And death-pale sinks the maiden fair.
Quick, mother there,
Give heed, take care!
Else you may lose her, unaware !
Who stands there laughing at the door?
That rogue who triumphs thus once more!
Both lad »ud maiden he has lilt,
And laughs as though his sides would
split.
And so he sports him everywhere;
Now here, now there;
He m'oeks your care; •
You fall his victim, unaware/
Now who so masterful and brave,
To catch and hold this saucy knave?
Whoeyer binds him strong and fast,
Ilis name and deed shall always last.
But if this dangerous task you dare,
Beware! take care
Lest jll you fare!
The rogue may catch you, unaware /
MISS ItAYMOND’S TI$IAL,
Old Mr. Raymond was dead and
buried; and t,lie-world had got tjrcd
of canvassing the sad circumstances
of bis failure and death. So we all
pass away and arc forgotten.
And Kate Raymond was forgotten,
too, tts she sat by herself in the lone,
ly room with her black dress and
her pale cheeks, and the unshed tears
making her poor eyes heavy!
People had pitied her at first, but
they took it for granted she would
do ‘something;’ at all events it was
none of their business.
“Well, my dear have you made up
your mind?”
Kate wtis securing the black
rosettes on her black grape bonnet,
with a sigh for every stjch, as old
Dr. Smith came creeping into the
room, and sat down beside her.
Kate looked up through the gath
ering tears.
“Doctor, I want, your ad yico. Tell
me what I had better do.”
“Advice eh? Well, it isn’t easy
to advise nndor some circumstances.
The only two places that seem eligi
ble to me are Madtime Belluir’s and
the situation as companion to old
Miss Beverly.”
“I should be more independent as
show-woman for madume Bellair,”
said Kate, quickly.
“More independent, possibly; hut
you would have to work twice as
hard for just half the—”
“The wages. Don’t *be afraid of
offending my ears with plain truths,
doctor,” said Kate.
‘’Well, wages, then; I should ad
vise you to go to Miss Beverly, my
dear, if you can be sure of patience
and self-control.”
VI am not the wild, impetuous girl
I opcc was; I can be patient now,
doctor.”
“It’s a lesson we till have to learn,
iny dear,” said the old man. “Well,
shall I tell Miss Beverly to expect
you ?”
“When?”
“Say to-morrow?”
' “Yes, bnt, Doctor;—”
“Well?”
“How many members are there in
Miss Beverly’s family?”
“Only herself aud a fussy old
bachelor brother, ton times as old
maidish as she is herself.”
Kate smiled a little absently.
“There used to be a—nephew—”
“Yes, I know—Charles Beverly;
but he went to Australia a year ago.
At 10 to-morrow, then, my dear, I
will call for you.”
Doctor Smith creaked away in
those noisy boots of his, and Kate
Raymond went up stairs to puck her
tvnuk and think.
Sq Charles Beverly was in Austra
lia!—She. had known that before;
yet, somehow, she wanted the doc
tor’s testimony to make assurance
doubly sure. Sho was glad ; yes up
on the whole, she was very glad.
She‘knew that she had treated the
honest, loving young fellow like a
selfish, heartless coquette; she knew
she lmd/hulfhrpkgu his fond, faithful
heart with her airs'lin'd gracco un<l
false smiles, once upon a time.
“I should have been ashamed' to
look him in the face,” sho pondered.
“I am glad his aunt knows nothing
about it.”
And she sighed softly, to think
how entirely and radically her whole
nature had boon changed in the bit
ter school of adversity.
“I am meokor and quieter now,”
she thought. “I should not throw
the jewel of his love from mo a sec
ond time; bub he does not know it
—nor ever will. A woman can only sit
and think. What a blessing wo have
but one life to live! Perhaps in the
next we may correct the errors of
this. Heigh-ho!”
At JO o’clock precisely the next
day, Doctor Smith’s carriage came
to the door for Miss Raymond and
her trunk.
“Keep up good courage, my dear,”
said the kind-headed old man.
“Miss Beverly is rather trying they
say; hut, sho has a heart in Spite of
iter sixty years and her old maiden
hood, and you’ll work your way to it
after awhile.”
Kate hoped so; but sho could
not help, feeling, a little dis
couraged when Dr. Smith had left
her alone in the darkened room, with
a pair of green spectacles glaring at
‘her from one corner, and a pair of
blue f*oin the other.
“Shut the door if you please,
young Miss,” croaked the blue spec
tacles; “draft-, tiro very bad for my
brother’s asthma!”
“And put a few coals on the fire,
Miss Raymond, if that’s yonr name,”
squeaked the green spectacles; “the
temperature is altogether too low for
my sister’s rheumatism.”
Kate obeyed. It was well they
had given her something to do, else
she must certainly have burst out
crying.
The first day as “companion”
was ineffably wearisome. Patiently
she trudged up and down stairs, with
the macaw’s cage, and the squirrel’s
house, and the spaniel’s basket, and
Miss Beverly’s gruel, and the old
bachelor's slippers; meekly she list
ened to t,lic directions, and receipts,
and harangues without end, until
her head ached and her feet smarted,
and her little hands tingled with the
unwonted toil.
. “And now,” said Miss Beverly,
just as Kato was looking forward to
the refreshing possibility of a little
while to herself—possibly a delight
ful ten or fifteon minutes slumber—
“you may get Prof. Drowsyheads’s
Essays from the library and read me
to sleep.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Kato feebly.
“And if yon should happen to
boar me snore, yon may read on just
the same. It would wake mo up at
once if you wore to stop.”
And Kate, obeying orders, read
herself Into a congestion of the
brain.
The noxt day went harder still.
Nothing went right. MistT Bevcily
seemed determined to be suited with
nothing that was done for her, and
the old bachelor growled a chorus to
her fault findings.
“This gruel tastes very oddly Miss
Raymond,” said the spinster. “I
don’t believe the sauce pan was
scalded before you put the milk in
it.”
“Yes, ma’am, it was, because ”
“Don’t contradict me. I can’t
bear to bo contradicted.”
“Don’t contradict my sister!’ ech
oed the old bachelor; and Kato sub
sided into a meek silence.
“1 don’t think Muff has been
properly washed, Miss Raymond
with two tablespoonfuls of rosewater
in his bath.”
“1 forgot tiio rosowator,” admit,
ted Kato, ingeniously; “but
DUBLIN, GEORGIA, WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 27, 1871).
“Forgot the rosowator?” shrieked
Miss Bin’erly, holding up both
hands. “My poor, poor Muff!”
“Well,” groaned the blue specta
cles, “Itain believe anything now!
Forgot tho rosewater 1”
“And von have got on that rusts
ling dress again, as I live—the rust
liiig tM-ii pluys. the very mischief
with my nerves. I hog vo»*...wj.U
change at mice. Miss Raymond 1”
“And before you go up stairs I
wish you would put those newspapers
straight on tho table. I can’t bear
to soo them all crooked,” growled
Mr. Beverly.
Kato set the newspapers mathe
matically straight, changed tho ob
noxious grape-trimmed dress, gave
Muff a second bath, with the regular
quantity of roso water in it, and pro
pared a now basin of gruel—and oven
then Miss Beverly was not satisfied.
“I think the parrot has drooped
ever since you came, Miss Raymond.
Are you sure you are not neglecting
him?”
“I try to do my best, ma’am, but
‘Don’t
groaned
answer mo, B
Miss Beverly, with both bands lifted
in front of her. “If there’s anything
that upsets my nerves it is being an
swered.”
Day after day passed by in very
much the same style, and Kate Ray
mond grow paler and quieter each
revolving sun. At first her proud
spirit bad rebelled.
But then came the bitter remem
brance that sho must, onditio it—
that she bad neither borne not
friends to flee to.
And when at tho week’s end Miss
Priscilla Beverly paid the astounding
sum of ten shillings into Miss Ray
mond’s shrinking palm, she felt that
it bad indeed been hardly.earned.
“There’s one good thing about
you, Miss Raymond,” said the spin
ster, ptiventliiealjy, us she counted
out the coin, ono quality that my
other companions could never suit
mo in; you have never got out of
temper. You’ve never lost your pa-
tionce the whole time you lure boon
herG; and I used to hear a year-or so
ago, when my nephew Charles was at
homo, what a changeable, fickle, im
patient little thing Mrs. Raymond’s
daughter was.”
Kate colored, and the tours start
ed quickly to her deep brown oyos.
“No,” said tho old bachelor in the
corner whose whole lifo scorned
nothing more than an echo to Miss
Beverly’s energetically expressed
opinions; “No Miss Raymond never
gets out of temper now !”
“I suppose I must he very,much
changed said poor Kate; as sho went
on with her wearisome work string
ing steel heads for a purse which
Miss Priscilla intended to manufact
ure some day, ‘ and, indeed, 1 hardly
feel like the same porsou that 1 was
on my 18th birthday.”
“How old are you now,” asked
Miss Beverly.
“I was 20 last mouth.”
“Ilump ! only 20! Well, I sup
pose you’ll be getting married somo
day, and I shall lose my companion.”
But Kato gently shook her head
without even looking up.
“I shall never marry,” sho said,
“nobody cares for me now.”
“There, James, I told you you’d
knock tho vase off the window-seat
if you insisted on leaving it there,”
lamented Miss Iiovorly, as a sudden
crash of breaking china interrupted
Kate’s voice. “Run Miss Raymond,
and don’t let tho water soak into the
enrpot, for pity’s sake! I don’t seo
how men can be so careless,”
And, for once, the old bachelor
had no oxcuse to plead for himself.
“Miss Raymond,” ho said in a low
hurried voice, when his sister’s tem
porary absence had chanced to leave
them alone together half an hour or
so later, ‘<you said a little while ago
that nobody eared for you. That
was a mistake.”
Kato looked up into his face with
surprise. ‘
“My .nephew,V Charles Beverly,
cares for - you. He has never left off
earing for you. If ho thought you
would look kindly upon him once
more—*”
But Kate shook her head.
“I am sure you are wrong; 0 she
said.-trsH-rg to sternly her faltering
vpioo. “I treated him too capri
ciously and too unkindly. I think
ho did love me once, and I should
like to Irav« him know, some day,
when ho is happily imwyiort to some
woman who is worthy of him, tlnvt J.
loved him better than ho thought;
that—that—when I was coldest in
my manner, my heart within mo was
most tender. It is too liito now to
say these things; and yot—”
“But it isn’t too late,” interrupted
the old bachelor, solemnly, rising
out of the chair, taking off his blue
spectacles behind which sparkled a
pair of brilliant.black eyes, removing
tho rusty wig from a profusion of
chestnut brown curls, and spurning
tho wadded flannel dressing-gown
from him with a contemptuous mo
tion.
Kato, in great agitation, roso to
her feet with a hysteric scream.
“Charles!”
“Is it too late, Kate? This week
has taught me how good, how gentle
and how patient you have grown,
and I love you better than I (it'd be
fore. Can you forgivo mo for the
ruse I practiced to learn whether I
might indeed aspire once more to
your hand?”
Kato Raymond said “No” at first,
hut sho said “Yes” afterward, when
Charles lmd ednvinefed' lief' of the
perfect propriety of his conduct.
“And did your aunt know?”
“It was s|to who insisted on it,
Kato. Who wished to prove the tem
per sho had heard was so fickle and
uncertain.”
“Aud she’s perfectly satisfied,”
sounded the spinster voice behind
them. “Well, 1 soo I shall have to
look out. for a now companion,
Charles.”
And tho old Indy’s wedding pres
ent to Alias Raymond tvas a sot of
diamonds that a queen might have
worn.
Clean Up.
Farmers should clean up all accu
mulations of dirt and filth about
their yards and stables. The fall i»
the time for fevers and other mala
rial diseases, and all accounts agree
that they arc induced by decaying
vegetable matter and cesspools of
dirty water, &c. Clean up about
tho house, uso lime freoly, and, if it
don’t keep off tho chills, it may pre
vent more serious troubles. This is
a season of yellow fever. No one'
knows where it may tako root, and
all authorities say qj|an up tho cities,
the farm premises and tho house
hold.— Exohmye.
A Bargain in the Lone Star
State. .
There is humor in Texas. The
other day a man brought out a for
lorn, spavined-looking stood, and ad
dressed the spectators thus:
'Follow-cifcizons, this is tho famous
horso Daiuly Jack. Look at him,
He’s perfect. If he were sent to
the horse-maker nothing could be
done for him. What shall I have
for tho matchless stood ?’
‘What will you tako for. him?’
yelled the crowd.
‘Two hundred dollars.’
‘Give you $5.’
‘Take him. I novjr let $108
stand botween mo and a horso trade.
That’s business.’
Words of Wisdom.
Business makes a man as wcll-tis
trios him.
Hypocrites arc beings of darkness
disguised in garments of light.
• Luxury increases (lie luggage of
life, and thereby impedes the march.
Death and to-morrow are never
hero; they are either not come or
gone.
It ‘.a not easy to straighten in the
oak the eiook Unit, grow in the sap-
m hrouly independent who calf
maintain himself by his own exer
tions. ’ . ■ ’ . ..; ; :
The silont eye is often a more
powerful conqueror than tho noisy
tongue.
He who can not keep his own se
cret ought not to complain if another
tells it.
....No man can avoid his own compa
ny—So ho had best, make it os good
as possible.
Ink is a caustic which sometimes
burns tho lingers of those who make
use of it.
Ago is surrounded by a cold mist,
in which tho llaino t *of hope will
hardly burn.
A man’s own good breeding is.tho
best security against other people’s
ill man tiers.’
Religion and medicine are not re
sponsible for tho faults and mistakes
of their dootors.
It is with good intentions as with
our days; to-morrow is hut too often
the hash of to-day.
Well may every act and every silent
thought, deep-hidden though* it; be,
tend to tho grout liuroafloi\
“Too Into” and “no more” are the
mournful sisters, children of a sire
whoso age they never console.
Italian Girls.
Country Boys in Town.
Atlanta Constitution,
There is nothing moro pitiful than
tho deluge of letters that, pours into
the Constitution olfiec whenever an
advertisement for a young-man ap
pears. No matter what the adver
tisement; is—no matter what the
wages that ate offered—no matter
now hard the work is—there uro
scores of letters that, come in, and
scores of humble solicitations for the
Those letters are handed in
When an lumest hen is laying the
foundation fora family and doing all
the hard work, wane absurd rooster
is ready to do tho crowing.
Tho girls of Italy do many tilings
our young ladies would not think of
doing, and they leave unlearned cer
tain ucconlplishmonts which only t he
very poorest; Aniorioun fair ouch pass
by. The Italian bride makes her
own on tilt; and, as tho ; t rouHSolii
consists of six dozen of everything,
being intended to last twenty-five
years, and all must bo embroidered
and frilled, the task is not an easy
one. But they take their tinio to it,
occupying two years to got it in
shape and all the while the work, is
going on the lovers are courting.
Tho husband gives tho dresses,
shawls, everything, in fact, but the
underclothing. Italian girls do not
learn to sing, draw, and play tho
piano. Those are left to people who
earn their living by thorn. But they
are taught to sow, cook and iron.
Tito King of Siam lias eight hun
dred wives and no trouble. Sussing
him is tin offense which calls for de
capitation, and his house'is as peace
ful as tho luippy family in a meimgo-
rie. '
A negro at* Dallas, Texas, believ
ing that God demanded the sacrifice
of his family, gave poison to his wife
and three children, but an irreligious
physician intorforrod and saved their
lives.
Some American corsets sliippod t<
Mexico wore supposed to be stiddles
of a new kind, and were returned as
not giving proper satisfaction.
Don’t Put It in tlic Paper.
Cincinnati Saturday Night.
“For heaven’s sake! don’t lot it go
into tho papers,” is tho first cry of a
person caught in a mean scrape.
Keep it out of the papers and it is
all right. No mutter how contempt-
iblo or dishonest tho position may be
or bow much reason tho offenders
may have for tho shame, romorso or
contrition, if the circumstances can
bo kept from the “cormorants of the
press,” as the peoplo who liavo good
reason to be afraid of nowspaper re
porters sometimes cull them, he is
tranquil and happy. We are no
champion for that oxtrorne license of
tho press that Is displayed, but wo
have noticed that the ones who cry
out tho loudest against newspaper
disclosures are generally those whose
own lives would not bear close in
spection. People who oan live
straightforward lives have little fear
from the newspapers.
by bright young fellows, who are
fretted with idleness—by tired, wea-
ry-looktng fellows who appear to
have worn themselves out in hunting
for work—by young country follows
wjjo seem fo liavo handed tho letter
in because they did not have a stamp
to solid it with. There is never any
diminution of this crowd. It never
tires of trying, and it never seems to
get wlnit it is after. Day after day
it oomos in, in responso to iidvertiso-
nients looking for work.
There are hundreds of theso young
inen—oapiihlo follows—who are liter
ally starving for tho luck of some
honest work to do. Thoy may ho
found on every street and in every
part of the city. And yot. in tho
taco of all this thoro are peoplo who
will advise young follows who uro
fairly fixed on a good farm .in tho
country to loivo it and eoino to the
city for work. No advieo could lie
more filial. Thoro is no work to do
in the city. Every department, of
trade is overstocked, and thoro is no
more dunce lo get a plaeo as u street
car driver Ilian there is to gel. a plaeo
as manager of the largest dry goods
house in the oily. Everything is full
and running over. And prospective
applicants must not ho doludod with
the belief Unit by offering to work
low, they oan bo able to secure places.
Wages have nothing to do with It.
A moreliant told us tlio other day
that a gentleman offered , to put lus
sou in t he store and lot him work for
nothing from Juno 1st to November
1st, if a situation of $40 a month
would bo guaranteed him at that
time. Ho could not afford to do it.
It is exceedingly dangerous for a
boy fresh from the country to ho
thrown into tho seething streets of
tlio city, idle and with nothing to do
hut to loaf about and look for work,
It. is almost certain, that ho will fall
buforo somo of tho thousands of
temptations that assail him, and be
come ensnared in the traps that are
sot for his weary feet. Even when
ho is in business, he 1ms to bo kcon-
eyud, alert and strong within himsolf,
or ho will find himsolf involved in
irretrievable ruin. The hustle ami
glare and noise of tho city will upset
him before ho suspeots it, and have
him down in the gutters beforo ho
thinks ho is in danger. Even if ho
succeeds in getting a clerkship, and
uftgr long yours of poor pay, hard
work and numberless privations, ho
is made it partner in tlio house for
which he is working, or sets up in
business for himself, ho is confronted,
with the fact that over ninety out of
every hundred won who go into tlio
mercantile business fail in it.
Clearly the thing for tho-boy who
has a homo upon tho farm is to stay
there. He will be certain of a rea
sonable good living, a self-respecting,
healthful life, and a home for liis
wife and babies when lie slmll get
thorn. This is much moro titan ho
can count on in tho city. If ono
hundred young country boys wero to
roach Atlunta to-morrow with two or
tlirco hundred dollars apiece in their
pockets, in ten years not ten of them
would be able to marry and decently
support a wife and family. If you
liavo a place on the farm stay there.
It would bo good sonso if a thousand
young, city hoys could go out aud
join you thoro to-morrow.
A man and liis wife in Tipton,
fijd., agreed to separate. Their
property was divided pieco by pieco
until nothiug was left but a baby
and a cow. Tho husband guvo tlio
wife her choice, and site took ttlo. <
cow.