Newspaper Page Text
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VOL. 2.
DUBLIN, GEORGIA, WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 8, 1870.
NO. 10
FINDING FA ULT.
In speaking of a person’s fault,
Pray don’t forget your own;
ItemembeV tlxoso with homes of glass
Should seldom throw a stone.
If we liuve nothing else to do
Than talk of those who sin,
’Tis better we commence at home,
And from that point begin.
We have no right, to judge a man •
Until he’s faiily tried;
Should we not like his company,
We know the World is wide.
Some may have faults, and who lias not?
The old ns well as young;
Perhaps we may, for all we know,
Have fifty to their one.
I’ll tell you of a better plan,
And find it works full well,
To flnd your own defects to cure,
Ere other faults you tell;
And though I sometime hope to be
No worse than some I know,
My own shortcomings bid me let
The faults of others go.
Now let us all, when we begin
To slander friend or foe.
Think of the harm one word may do
To those we little know;
ltemember curses, cliickeu-like,
Sometimes .to roost comes home:
Don’t speak of other’s faults until
You have none of your own.,
MY KING.
'‘Josephine! Josephine! wake up
there is some one trying to get into
the room!” And my aunt shook me
roughly.
I sprung up in the bed, rubbing
my eyes.
“How—where—what for ?” I ask
ed sleepily.
She laid her hand on my mouth
as she whispered: “Shi sh! don’t
you hear that!”
I listened, by that time fully
awake, and heard a sound as of some
one working at the door. “What
shall wo do, aunt Mary?” I said
fsuntly.
She shook her head, there we were
all alone in the house, with the ex
ception of John the hired man, who
slept on the floor above us, and who
might as well have been sleeping the
sleep that knows, no waking, for all
the good he could do us. I grabbed
holt of my aucieiu relative and laid
still, wi ll my heart beating wildly.
“Oh! we should bo murdered, 1
knew ive‘should.” I thought of the
silly wish I had expressed that same
evening, as I complained of t!.e
dullness of my country life,
“tliafc something would happen
to wake ns up a little.” Here was
the awakening but such a one! I
hid my head under the bed clothes
while I prayed softly. Then, not
•daring to lie alone, for ray aunt had
left ifiysido, and feeling that it. would
be better to die together, I, too found
my way to the floor. With the only
weapon she could find—a pair of
curling irons—my late bed-fellow
stood shaking behind the door.
Very gently it opened and a lieud
made its appearance. Tighter and
tighter grew my arms around my
companion’s waist, but when our
house-breaker stood before us, every
feeling gave place to astonishment.
Instead of the hideous face I expect
ed to meet, there came to view the
slight figure of a. mere stripling. My
aunt’s fear seemed also to have van
ished, for stepping up boldly to him.
she eaught hold of him, saying;
“All, I have you now, my pretty
fellow,” at the same time crying for
John.
The captive struggled to free him
self, but in vain, for my aunt held
him closer while she screamed the
louder for John. Very soon he ap
peared on the spot, where he gazed
in amazement on the picture before
him but as his mistress kept saying,
“Tie him, John, tie him,” he went
foi the first thing handy, which ha]>-
pened to bo my aifnt’s long worsted
garters. They being strong enough,
answered every purpose, and soon
our prisoner stood meekly before ns.
Then, aunt Mary, looking sternly at
him said; “Now, John take and
lock him in tho empty room at the
top of the stairs, and in the morning
we will see if peaceful citizens must
be robbed and murdered in their
beds.”
I had stood quietly by, taking no
part in tho programme, and feeling,
it must be said, more pity than auger
for the handsome youth. Once I
met his eyes fixed earnestly upon me
and as John led him from the room
mine was the last face they sought.
After my aunt, had expended all the
threats she could upon the culprit,
she fell fast asleep, but though I
tried to follow her example, I did
not succeed, for tho face of the bur
glar kept rising before my closed
eyes.
I was only sixteen, and of a rather
romantic turn. I pictured his dark
eyes filled with penitent tears, and
thought that bitter necessity had per
haps driven him to this act for which
my aunt would send him to prison
on the morrow. No, I could not
sleep, so slipping on my dress I crept
up the stairs to the door of tho room
containing him who was defrauding
me of my rightful rest. I listened.
All was still; and I stood hesitating
what to do, when I hoard a loud sob
withiu. In an instant I had tile
door unlocked. There lay the lad
on the cold floor, his head on his
crossed arms. He lifted his tear-wet
face; oh! how pale it looked, as tho
dim morning light fell upon it. I
am sure my voice was very gentle, as
I said:
“There, do not weep, but tell me
what has impelled you to such
work.”
“All, Miss,” and his -voice was
strangely sweet, “such bitter need as
I pray lieaveu.you may never know.
This is my,first oifenec, believe me.”
I did believe him and made up nty
mind on .the spot to get him away
before my aunt should awake. I
bade him follow me, and silently wo
crept down the stairs and to the front
door; then telling him to wait until
I returned, I hastened back to my
room. The sounds which issued
from the bed told me Aunt Mary
still slept, 1 took from my small
pocket-book its contents and hurried
back,, ahd Justus I had left him I
found the boy. I placed the money
which I had brought in in his hand,
then whispered “do and sin no
more. ”
He caught my hand, and while hot
tears fell upon it, kissed it. “God.
bless your sweet face I shall never
forget it,” he murmured, then passed
down the path and out of sight.
With a warm feeling about my
heart J went softly back to my bed,
and was soon fast asleep. It was
again interrupted by a shrill voice at
my car, drying:
“Josie, lie has gone, after all my
pains; it’s too bad; all John’s fault;
I'll never forgive him, no, never.”
Poor John protested lie had fasten
ed the door, but it was • no use 'in
talking. She believed through him
she had lost her captive, and aunt
from that day ceased to hove any
confidence in the poor fellow.
Our sleep after that was unbroken
and the years carried me safely to
my t wentieth birthday. I was called
a pretty girl at that time, with a
handsome pair of dark eyes and a
wealth of golden hair, that, lot me
confess it here, I prided myself very
much on! I had soveral admirers
among the gentlemen of the village,
but had never felt any inclination
for them, and on that account hud
acquired the name of being rather
proud t.nd cold. ' Aunt Mary, who
had not grown younger or better
nutured in the past four years pre
dicted my becoming an old maid.
As I looked at’ her I became some
what frightened, still I could not
bring myself to accept any of the
illustrious names offered.
Ours was a pretty little place, and
for the past two years had become a
resort for city people iu the summer
months. I used to look with envi
ous eyes on tho pretty, showy ladies
and gallant gentlemen that flitted
before my vision like gay birds, and
who acted as if the world was mado
for their sole enjoyment, and after
the summer had passid, taking them
with it, my foolish heart grew harder
and harder toward my country
swains, and stronger the longing to
got away from them all, and out into
the world, that my only real pleasure
was to road about.
It was a beautiful aftornoon in tho
latter part of June, that returning
from the post office, I passed the
hotel, for it was the only one tho
town affored. The stage had arrived
and ns I went by a gentleman stepp
ed from it. For an instant I paused
unvoluntarily to look at him. He
was, I suppose, twenty-two, no more,
tall, with the handsomest face I ever
had seen. I found myself blushing
deeply as I met tho glance of his
dark, earnest eyes, and with averted
face quickly passed him. Alas! for
poor Will May, who I mob shortly
after, and who walked with me to
ward my home. As the face I had
just seen rose before me, more silent
did I become, shorter my answers to
his, no doubt, witty remarks. I was
glad to get to my own room, whore
alone I ‘let my thoughts rest unin
terrupted on the handsome stranger.
Not.long was I permitted to do so,
for my aunt called mo in to make
biscuits for tea. I wont down; bet
ter for all Iliad remained where I
was. I do not know as I was in
love, for the honor of my sex I hope
not, but I must have been blind, for
instead of the white sugar I should
have taken I used salt. Heaveus! I
Bee to this day my aunt’s faco as she
tasted one. A week wont by and
though I had hoard the stranger’s
name, I had not seen him, save in
the dreams tiiat had visited mo
Soveral of the girls calling
e. irad'sppiveh of titer handsome
gentieman atopping at the Lion, and
sighed to th.iiilc be was beyond their,
reach. How hated my life at that,
period with its same dreary routine.
The sound of my aunt’s voice as she
called me at 0 o’clock in tho morning,
“Josephine! Josephine! going to
sleep all day?” would dispel the cas-
tle.i I was building, and send me
back to the endless making of bread
and cake. How I longed to got
away from the sewing she had al
ready these long afternoons, and out.
into the woods and llelus!
Wo were going to have a picnic,
and the guests of the hotel were to
favor us with their society. All was
excitement, for it was not often we
had the pleasure of being in the
company of gentlemen who wore
their hair parted in the middle, and
called us deuced pretty girls. Tho
girls came. Don’t think me in vain,
reader, if I tell yon that I - looked
lovely. It is some years ago, and I
saw that I did by the whispering
among the girls, and by the envious
glances they cast at mo, and also
some tender ones I received by the
opposite sex. Wo were at our first
danco when the gentlemon from Lion
arrived. I felt my heart beat quick r
ly, when I saw among them Edwin
King, for so my stranger was pallet!.
Truly a king in manly beauty, I
thought as ! looked at his tall, grace
ful form, iiito the strangely hand
some f!fco. As ho saw me his oyes
lit up, and coming forward he beg
ged my hand for the next danco.
I assure you, gentle reader, that I
did not refuse.
Very happily passed the day, and
I was sorry when aunt Mary called
me. .As Mr. King led mo to her I
thought lie looked rather strangely
at her, but soon forgot all else in
the pleasure of having hint at my
side, as we walked slowly home
through the scented fields. My new
friend did not forget me, and hardly
a day passed by without bringing
him to my side. •Even my aunt
seemed pleased with him, and spoke
in warmest terms of his gentlemanly
bearing. One evening, ah ! how it
comes back to me; us we wero sitting
in the parlor, unlit, save by tho soft
moonlight, Edwin said, after a long
silence:
“Josie, I have a little story I'wish
to tell you, will you listcu?”
I whispered a faint “yes” so taking
n his, the hands lying idly in my
lap, lie wont on:
“Once upon a time, a boy, friend
less and alone, came ono cold night
to a village,. Ho lmd been, trying for
weeks to find work, but met no one
who qarod oven to givo him a kind
word, so, faint and weary, ho came
to this village I speak of. I do not
know what dovil tempted him, but
lie crept into a farm liouso, having
ono thought and that was to obtain
food, which ho failed in getting, for
he was caught and fastened in a room
to wait until morning, when he
would be taken to prison. Too mis
erable and hopeless to speak in self
defense, lie lay weeping on the cold
floor when tho door was opened anil
a young girl with tender, pitying
face stood before him. In her soft,
low voice, she bid him weep no more,
but to follow her and she would sot
him free. Noisolossly they crept
down tho stairs, out into tho silent
night, then telling him to wait an
instant, this boy’s good angol ioft
him, but soon returned with money,
which she gave him, bidding him
go and sin no more.” Shall I toll
yon tho prayer that went up to Heav
en, the vow this boy took, live years
later, when ho had becomo a man,
how ho returned to that village, hop?
ing to find the girl whom lie had
never forgotten, how ho did find her,
fairer, sweeter oven than on tho
night when she saved him? Shall I
toll, Josie, how ho knelt at her feet
praying for her to be his own? How
ho waited with fast boating heart,
for her answer, knowing if she failed
him the home lie had strivcu hard to
win for hor dear sake, his very life
would.bo worthless.”
jjpkiiig Was mi liis knees before
aie^ks-hOijj|Cusod ^poaking. I bowed
down my head until it rested on his
breast, and ho was answered..
Wise Sayings of Jewish Sages.
FARO BILL’S SERMON.
An Exciting Scene at tho Close
of his Remarks Upon tho
Prodigal Son.
The path of duty in this world is
the road of salvation in the next.
Happy is ho who fears God in the
prime of life.
Who is powerful ? He who can
control liis passions. Who is rich ?
He who is contented with what he
has.
Charity is the salt of riches.
Blessed he lie who gives to tho
poor, albeit only a penny; doubly
bl,esscd bo he who adds kind words
to his gift. Say not, because thou
canst not do everything, “I will do
nothing.”
Associate not with the wicked man
even if thou canst learn from him.
Ho who denies his guilt doubles
his guilt.
Tliis is the penalty of tho liar: lie
is not believed when he tells the
truth.
It is u sin to deceive thy fellow-
man, be he Jew or Gentile.
Be the first to hold out the hand
of peace.
Improve thyself, then try to' im
prove others.
Beautiful are tho admonitions of
him whose life accords with his
teachings.
The wicked, whilst alive, is like
dead; tho righteous after death is
still alive.
“No,” said the Texas lawyer, as he
placed a couple of loaded derringers
on the table before him, “the fact
that this witness is a desperate man
will not deter me from asking him
such questions as I may deem
proper.”
Meeting a negro on the road, with
a crape on his hat, a traveller said;
“You have lost some frieuds I see.”
“Yes, Massa.” “Was it a near or
distant relative.” “Well, putty dis
tant—’bout twenty-four miles,” was
tho reply.
A farmer near Evansville, Indiana,
buried 480 trade dollars u few months
ago to wait for a rise. A hunter dis
covered the ‘joker’ and a ‘rise’ took
place.
[Leiulville Letter lu Wyoming Journal,]
Many had, no doubt, como through
curiosity to see how Bill, recently
converted, would deport himself in
this, his initial, sermon. Upon the
stage sat a burly, red faced man, with
arms folded in a careless manner, who
looked over the large aiidienoo with
an air of the most decided indepen
dence. This was Faro Bill, tho
speaker of the occasion. Whon lie
arose ho glanced around tho tout for
a moment, evidently collecting his
thoughts, and began: “Feller-eiti-
zons, the proaohor boin’ absent, it
falls on me to take his baud and play
it fur all it is worth. You all know
that I’m just learn in’ tho game, and,
of courso, I may be oxpoctcd to make
wild breaks, but I don’t beliovo thur’s
a rooster in tho camp nioau enough
to take advantage o’ my iginmiuco
and cold-deck me right on tho first
deal. I’m sincere in this new de
parture, an’ I believe that I’ve struck
a game that I can play clear through
without copper in a bet, for when a
mail tackles such a lay-out as this lie
plays every card to win, an’ if lie goes
through tlio deal as ho ortor do, when
ho lays down to die, un’ tho last ease
is ready to slide from tho hex, ho can
call tho turn overy time. I, was
r fad in’ in tho Bible to-day that yarn
about the Prodigal Son, an’ 1 want
to tell yor tho story. Tho book don’t
give no dates, but it happened long,
long ago; This Prodigal Son had an
old man that put up tho coin every
time tbo kid-sti’tick him for a stake,
an’ never kicked at tho jmjjo of tho
pile-either. I reckon thoold man
was purty well fixed, an’ when ho
died lid intended to give all-liis wealth
to this kid and his brother. Prod
give thoold nmn a little game o’ talk
ono day, and injuced him to whack
up in advance 6’ tho death racket.
He’d no sooner got hjs divy in his
fist than he shook tho old man an’
struck out to tako in some o’ the
other camps. Ho had a way-up time
for awhile, an’ slung his cash to the
front liko ho owned the host payin’
lead on nrth, but hard luck hit him
a lick at last an’ left him flat. The
book don’t state what lie went broke
on, but I reckon ho got steered up
agin some brace giinio. But anyhow
ho got left without a chip or a four-
bit piece to go an’ eat on. An old
Granger then tuk him home an’ set
him to herdin’ hogs, an’, here ho got
so hard up an’ hungry that ho piped
off tho swine while they wort- feed in*,
and ho stood in with ’em on a husk
lunch. Ho soon weakened on such
plain provender, an’ says to himself,
says lie;‘Even thoold man’s hired
hands are livin’ on square grub, while
I’m worrying along hero on cornhusks
straight. I’ll just tako a grand* tum
ble to myself an’ chop on this racket
at once, i’ll skip buck to the gov
ernor, and try to fix things up and
call fur a new deal; so off he started.
The old man seed the kid a coming,
and what do you reckon ho did? Did
lie pull his gun and lay for him,
intending to wipe him as soon as lie
got into range? Did he call the dogs
to chase him off the rauchc? Did he
hustle around for a club, and give
him a stand-off at tho front gate??
Eh? Not to any alarmin’ oxtont
he didn’t. No, sir! Tho Seripturo
buck says he waltzed out to meet hini
and froze to him on tho spot, and
kissed him, and then marched him
off to a clothing store and fitted him
out iu tho nobbiest rig to be had for
com. Then the old gent invited all
tho neighbors and killed a fat'calf,
and givo the biggest blow-out the
camp ever seed.” At the conclusion
of the narrative tho speaker paused,
evidently framing in his mind a pro
per application of tho story. Before
he could resume, a tall, blear-eyed
guiublcr, with a tierce mustache,
arose and said: “’Tam’t me us would
try ter break up a meeting or do any
thing disroligious. No, sir; I am
not that sort of a citizen. But in all
public hoc*duos it is a parliamentary
rule for anybody as wauls to ax ques
tions'to. 1‘lso up and fire them off. I
do not want ter fool away tlino a
questioning tlio workings of religion
oh,.no. As long as it is kept in
proper hounds, and does not interfere
with tho boys in their games, I do
not see as it can do harm. I just
want to ax tho honorable spoakor if
ho has not givo himself dead away?
Does it stand ter reason that a bloke
would food upon corn husks when
there was hash fuctoiies in the camp?
Would any ono hev refused tho price
of a square meal if ho had a struok
them fur it? Would any of tho deal
ers that beat him out of his coin see
him starve? As I remarked. uforo, I
do not wish, to make any disrospoct-
ablo breaks, but I must say that I
have got it put up that the speaker
lias been trying ter feed us on enssedl
thin taffy, and no one but a silly
would take it in.” Bill glared upon
the spoakor and fairly hissed, “Do
you mean to say that I am a liar P”
“Will, you cun take it just as you
choose. .Some folk# would.swallow'
it iu that shape.” Bill ptillod his
revolver, and in an instant tho
bright barrels of numerous weapons
flashed iu the air as the friends of
each party prepared for active duty.
The brevet preacher was the first to
fire, and the rash doubter of spiritual
truth,os fell dead on tho ground..
Shot, followed shot in quick succes
sion, and whon quiet was rcstorod a
score or more of dead and wounded
men were carried from the tout.
Having secured attention, Bill said:
“Further! proceedings is adjourned
for the day. You will receive tlio
doxology.”
Marrying Cliiuainen.
Tho absence of Chinese women ii*
tlio East has compelled tho mules to
intermarry with tho whites. Thom
are in New York at this timo nearly
three hundred Chinamen who hum
white wives. They are mainly Span
ish and Irish women, the Mongolians
prefer the latter off account of their
skill to labor. Few of thorn allow
their wives to work. This is due to
a spi. it of gallantry which is- visible
even in the West. This intermar
riage of races commenced about six
years ago; consequently a young
Chlno-Coltie generation is springing
up, the oldest of whom is about flvo
years of age. As these children aro
becoming very numerous they may
become an important factor ju
strengthening tho kinkly relations,
between our citizens and Chinese
immigrants. In a your or two somo
of them will ho old enough to enter
school. Not only have Chinese mar
ried Spanish and Irish women, but
at No. 45 Mott street there‘lives a
Chinaman wllo married a colored
woman. The pair have three fine-
looking children.—N. Y. Herald.
An Ohio widower refused to wed a
certain woman because she objected
to tho 8x10 panes of glass in his
house. Ho preferred losing her to
putting in 1 fixing.
WJint un OIil Maid Huh Noticed,
I have noticed all men aro honest
when well watched.
I have noticed purses will hold
pennies as woll as pounds.
I have noticed that in order to ho
a reasonable crcuture, it is necessary
at times to he downright mad.
I huvo noticed that silks, broad
cloths, and jewels aro of ton bought
with other people’s money.
I have noticed that the prayer of
tho selfish man is, “Forgive us otqj
debts,” whilo ho nmkos everybody
that owes him pay him to tho utmost
farthing.
I huvo noticed that ho who thinks
every man a rogue is cortain to seo
one when ho shaves himself, am]
ought, iu mercy to his neighbor, to
surrender tho rascal to justice.
I have noticed that moqoy is the
fool’s wisdom, knaves reputation, tlio
I poor man's desire, the covetous inaii’a
I ambition, and the iclpl of-them. aH,
