Newspaper Page Text
VOL. 2.
DUBLIN, GEORGIA, WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 22, 1879.
THE CHOICEST GIFT.
“What will you give me, Arthur?”
She said iu her merry way;
“What gift would you send, my futtbful
friend,
To me on my wedding day?”
“Something so pure and costly,
I'd offer ypu, maiden fair,
That you should confess ’twere a joy to
possess
A treasure so rich and so rare.”
“O, what caa it be, dear consin?
And where is the fortune, pray,
You will have to spend if you choose to
send
Such a gift on my wedding day.”
“The gift is already purchased,”
Said the bold and unblushing youth;
’Twas strange I declare that the maiden fair
Had never discovered the truth.
“Indeed! and you never told me!”
She said. Have-1 leave to guess 1 ?
Is it diamond ring you propose to buy?
Or laco for my wedding dress?
“And \vhat if I never marry?”
Site added, with a grievous sigh;
“’Tis better to-day you the gift display
Than wait until by and by.”
“It that is your wish, dear maiden,
My secret you soon shall, know,
And if you refuse what I happen to
choose, '
’Twill doom me to grief and wo.
“My heart is the gift I proffer.
A heart you may trust and believe;
Will you take it 'my love and prize it
above
All oilier gifts you may receive?”
She leaned her head on his shoulder,
And lie guessed what she blushed to
say.
That the love lie confessed was what
suited her best
As his gift for her wedding day !
ALL NONSENSE.
N
y
>#►
jr
“There is just one thing to be
cUnio. We leave Newport- to-mor-
fmyJ r
Mrs. Carrington spokq emphati
cally. If, pas one of Mrs. Carring
ton’s characteristics that hor words
tverp psuiilly lieuvjly weighted with
empliitsis. Ppssibly that was the
reason why Mr. Carrington generally
spoke in it shuffling undertone, as if
half ashamed of his utterances. He
did sq now, meekly saying :
■“Just i|s you wish my love. It—
it—is rathpr sudden.”
“Of pottrse it is sudden. The
whole afiair is sudden. I suppose
you would stay, hesitating and put
ting off our departure until this non
sense goes beyond respair.”
“If—it—is nonsense,” suggested
the little man addressed.
Mrs._ Carrington rose from her
seat, tall, majestic, Uninptte, and
appalling.
“It is nousense, all nonsense!”
she said, slowly, but with an awful
weight ujion every word. “I am
amazed at you, John Carrington!
The man has nothing but a paltry
six hundred a year!”
“I had no more when I was mar
ried.”
Evidently Mrs. Carrington was in
a state of breathless amazement.
After twenty years of meek submis
sion to her imperilous will, her hus
band wae audaciously arguing
point she had already decided upon.
With an. aspect of terrible severity
she said:
“If yon suppose, John Carrington,
that I will allow my only child, heir
ess to large wealth, educated at Mad
ame Rampier’s, and one of the belles
of society, to marry a pauper you arc
mistaken. We leave Newport to
morrow.”
She left the room ns she spoke,
passing into a bedroom adjoining,
and closed the door.
John Carrington looked ruefully
at her. It was seldom he soliloqiriz-
cd, but ho muttered:
“It is a pity. Sidney is a fine fel
low, a very fine fellow.”
“So 1 say, papa!” said a low voice
close to his car. “Coine out here on
the balcony, that’s a dear papa.”
“Dea/, dear!” said the perplexed
little man, “have you been out there
all this time?”
“Yes! Mamma gave me a most
tremendous scolding after dinner,
and I wciit out there to cry.”
“Yes—yes,” said her father, fol
lowing her lead to the small balcony
outside the private sittingroom of
their apartments at thohotel. “Yes
yes I Why, Flossie, yon are cry
ing now!”
“Of course I am sobbed Flossie,
nestling close to hor fathor in the
twilight, “because I love Sidney.
I love him, papal”
“Dear, dear, so do I. I mean,”
stammered the little man with vis
ions of his wife’s wrath looming up
before him—“I mean—”
“Just what you said, papa,” said
Flossie, lifting her golden curls from
their resting place. “Oh, papa, if
you will only help us! Oh, papa!”
and she clasped two little white
hands in a sudden ccstacy of hope.
“But, my dear, your mamma—”
Miss Flossie lifted the curtains
over the window, stole softly across
the sittingroom, and peeped through
the keyhole into the brilliant-lighted
bedroom. Then she stole back
again, all her tears dried, and her
lips wreated in smiles.
She gave her father a great, hug to
commence with. Then she said:
“Mamma is packing! She is safe
for ever, over so long. Now, papa,
tell me—did you really mean what
you said a little while ago, that you
were no richer than Sidney when
von were married?”
“Yes, my dear; I was a clerk in
a hardware store, and your mama
was a milliner next door.”
“Oh,, pnpn, how delicious. I
thought she was an Underbill”
“So she was, my dear. Ilor fami
ly is first rate, but she had to earn
Jier living‘in a milliner store. But I
made money very fast by an inven
tion I patented, and retired from
business ten years ago. All my in
vestments have prospered. Why,
Flossie,” said the little man, with
some natural pride in his success, “I
have one hundred thousand dollars
in bank at this minute, waiting in
vestment, besides my real estate,
stock and other property.”
“In bank! Do you mean your
check would be good iu amtnuto for
that?”
“Exactly.”
“Oh, papa, what a nice wedding
present that would be for me!”
“Gracious!” gasped the little man.
“But,” said Flossie, her eyes be
coming dim again, “if mamma
whisks me off to-morrow, I do not
know when I shall over see Sidney
again. You know lie has to go to
Liverpool next Wednesday, on busi
ness for the firm. Ho—he came to
Newport to—to 6eo mo, papa—and
tell me he loved me—and—lie thinffs
this business would give him a rise
m salary- -and he can only stay a
week. But mamma thinks that
hateful Count Rosis will propose.”
“Eli—what? *Why, Flossie, that
man is a blackleg—an adventurer.
I am sure of it.”
“Butho is a count!”
“It may be, but—Flossie, you do
not really think your mamma—”
“Means to catch Inin forme? I
think just that!”
Now John Carrington was no fool.
He was a meek man, of gentle dis
position, and one to givo up almost
everything else for the sake of do
mestic peace. So he had, little by
little, allowed his wife to control
him, and rule her household with a
rod of iron. But he had one strong,
worshiping love in heart, and it was
lavished in its entirety upon Flossie,
his golden-headed, brown-eyed beau
ty. Never had hecrossed her; never
had a harsh word droppod from his
lips to wound her. He had known
Sidney Welsh for years, watching
him grow from boy to man, earnest
of purpose, pure in heart, strict in
principle. It had never grieved him
to know that Flossie wan becoming
fond of .the young man, who came
on business to see his old employer.
He valued money as a man values
any honestly earned possessions ; but
he valued Flossie’s heart-happiness
and Sidney’s sterling worth far above
dollars and cents.
Ho sat silent for somo moments,
and then said, softly:
“Will yon stay here until I call
you, my daughter?”
The tonderness of those last two
words started Flossie’s tears, while
yet they roused a new hope in her
heart.
“When I call,” continued Mr.
Carrington, “I will stand thore, un
til you come down to pie. ”
He said no more after Flossie
whispered: “I will come,” but
crossed the sittingroom, now in
darkness, and wont into the wide
hall.
“Room 27,” he muttorod, and
looked at the doors till ho stood at
‘27.” To his taps came instant an
swer: “Come in;” and he obeyed.
A tall handsome man of thirty or
thereabout was sitting on the bed in
his shirt-sleovos, reading, an open
letter. Various preparations on all
sides showed that the business of
packig had been going on.
“Mr. Carrington!”
The tone was one of utter amaze
ment.
“Yes, Sidney,” was the answer—
and the little man spoke with decis
ion. ' “I see yon are reading a let
ter.”
“From Mrs. Carrington,” was the
reply. “You have probably come to
impress it more fully upon me that I
am a presumptuous fool to love
Flossie.”
“No!” very quietly, but with om-
plmsis equal to Mrs. Carrington’s
best efforts. “For I love Flossie,
too, and before she shall niarry Count
Rosis 1 will shoot him! There you
need not pop your eyes out of your
head, Sidney! I am not insane, but
And then Sidney s 6yoa (^loncdst.fil
wider as Mr. Carrington proceeded
to lay before him certain proposi
tions.
“How can I over repay yon?” ho
gasped at length.
“By guarding Flossio’s happiness,”
was the reply, in a grave voice.
“Now come with inp and say fare
well.”
There was a loving parting under
the balcony, when Flossie tripped
out lightly in answer to her father’s
call.
Mrs. Carrington was as good as
her word. The next morning the
family left Newport for Now York,
to remain a few days previous to
starting for Saratoga to finish their
summer vacation.' There was no
mention made of Count Rosis, but
Mrs. Carrington had ascertained that
the distinguished foreigner was also
to make a sojourn at Saratoga.
Flossie was meekly obedient to all
her mother’s commands. It might
have gi vo that lady some surprise had
she known the business that took
Mr. Carrington to his office in those
four days spent in Now York.
Thero were two great trunks and a
small one in the centre of that office
floor, and every day bundles came
from dry goods stores, jeweler’s
stores, shoe stores—all kinds of stores
capable of aiding iu tho preparation
for a trousseau. Flossie’s .bright
face was often bending over these
trunks, though her visits were hur
ried, and ended with rather tearful
embraces of “dear, dear papa.”
Wednesday afternoon was closing
into ovoning when Mrs. Carrington,
seated in the library of the New York
munsion she called home, heard hor
husband coming across the entry.
“John!” she cried, and ho catno
into the room, his figure unusually
erect, although thore was an expres
sion of sadness in his eye.
“John,” his wife said, “do you
know if young Welsh sailed this af
ternoon, as ho intended?”
“I know that he did!”
“Thank goodness! Now that that
nonsense is over, I hope that Flossie
will behave like a reasonable girl.”
“Flossie! All, yes x I intended to
toll you, my dear, that Mrs. Sidney
Welsh went to Liverpool with hor
husband this afternoon.”
“Mrs. Sidney Welsh!”
“Florence Carrington Welsh.”
“Elojied!” gasped Mrs. Carring
ton. \
“Oil, iio, my dear, there was no
olopemeht. The young couple were
married in tho church at noon, and
tho bride, was given away by heir
father.”
“John—yon—let her marry that,
pauper!”
“Youjcan scarcely call him a pau
per now, my dear, .as his wifo had a
liuncivod' thousand dollars deposited
in her mime in bank to-day.”
“Jobir Carringtou you aro an ab
solute idiot!” was tho wrathful an
swer. 1
“I think not, Maria. I think
not. I know that Count Rosis is a
gambler aud unworthy of any wo
man’s love. I know Sidney Welsh
to have been a good son to a widow
ed mother* while she lived a faithful
clerk jn the store whore ho was em
ployed, an upright, honorable man
in every position he has over filled.
The youhg couple will take a trip to
Paris aiid Italy, after Sidney has
transacted his Liverpool business,
and I think on their return there
will probably bo a now merchant’s
office opened in New York, that of
Sidney Welsh & Co., with John Car
rington for a silent partner.”
“I Wash my hands of tho whole
disgraceful business,” said the irate
lady, f
“Oh, come, now, Maria, don’t
talk in that way,” was tho good-na
tured answer, “because you know it
is all nonsense.”
Sir Humphrey Davy ou Religious
Faith.
“I envy,” says Sir Humphrey
0avy, “no- quality of the" milid or
intellect ^.otbc^-i^^lt^gblnti^-Wit
qr fancy/ rBiit if I could be allowed
to chdbso what would" bo y ihost de
lightful and, I believe most useful to
mo, I should prefer a firm religious
/belief to any other blessing; for it
makes life a discipline of goodness,
creatos now/hqpqs when all earthly
ones vanish, aud throws over the
decay, the destruction of existence
hero, tho most gorgeous of all lights;
awakens life oven in death, and from
decay and destruction calls up beauty
and divinity; makes an instrument
of torture aud shame the Jaddor of
ascent to Paradise; and, far above all
combinations of earthly hopes, calls
up tho most delightful visions of
palms, amaranths, tho gardens of
the blest, the sccuritv of evorlasting
joys, where tho sensualist and the
skeptic view only gloom, decay, anni
hilation and despair.”
Suit on Wheat.
In an interesting series of experi
ments recently made on the farm of
tho Royal Agricultural Society, of
England, tho manure value of salt
was unmistakably indicated. An
acre of wheat dressed With 800pounds
of common salt yielded thirty-nine
bushels of grain, with its proportion
ate amount of straw, while an ad
joining acre left finmanured prod need
only twenty-nine bushels per acre;
with the straw imperfectly developed.
The entire cost, of tho crop is not
stated, but this experiment shows
that tho additional ton bushels result
ing from tho salt wore produced at a
cost of thirty cents each. In another
ease a pioco of ground intended for
wheat was plowed the preceding fall,
and again in May, when it wussoweij
with salt and afterward plowed before
seeding. On the first and seoond of
of September wheat was sown at tho
rato of two bushels to tho acre. Tho
crop, when harvested, yioldod, ac
cording to the ostimato of tho own or,
Mr. John Park, not loss than forty
bushels to the aero, with a luxurious
growth of straw. From these and
many similar oases, the inference
seems to bo that salt is a specific for
tho wheat crop, imparting solidity
to tho grain and firmness to tlio
straw. But it must bo concluded
that equally good results will always
follow tho application of salt.
Milking.—rThe faster and more
gently a cow is milked, the groator
will bo tho amount given. Slow
milkers very often dry up a cow.
Never draw tho milk with a jerk, it
irritates tho cow and often injures
the bag. Fill the teat, ami with a
firm jWesHurCj.qLtbqJast. throo lingers
empty it, drawing'slightly 911 teat
and udder at tho same time; ho pro
ceed alternately with each hand until
the milk supply is exhausted. Cows
should bo milked as nearly at a given
hour morning and evening as possi
ble, since undue distension of tho
udder is always injurious.
On a homeward-bound Charleston
car a jolly-looking Irishman was sa
luted with the remark:
“Tim, your house has blown
down.”
“Dado, thin, it isn’t,” he answer
ed, “for I have the kay iu my pock
et.”
Two prisoners who broke jail at
Omaha, Neb., have sent a note to
one of the papers, that tho sanitary
nnndiltnn nf ivuu an lin/1 l.lmv
condition, of edificewas ho bad they
fcored disease, and so escaped. They
assort their innocence of tho crime
for which thoy wore committed, and
State that on tho day sot for their
trial they will appear and prove their
case.
An English lady, an acquaintance
M. Ingres, the well-known French
painter, had a most awkward gait.
The gentlemen rccommomled her
daily to take a long walk, balancing,
meanwhile, on her head, a pitcher of
water. This, hejoiid, would givo
the true poise to uie figure and ne
cessitate the upright curriago of the
head and a smooth firm stop. An
emineut French actor, who prepares
young gills for the stage, has taken
Mr. Ingro’s hint, and his pupils
every doat u certain time, have to
walk about with vessels of water on
their heads
Queen Victoria scarcely over catch
es cold.
A young lady who had boon invit-.
td to two places of amusement for
the sumo evening was sitting in a
country church, thinking over which
invitation to accopt and which to
reject. She had just come to a con
clusion, and saw, with a mind’s ovo,
the disappointed swain turn away,
when the ministor, who was discours
ing to sinners, littered these words:
“If you do not accept the invitation
where will you goto?” “Where?”
exclaimed the young lady. \ “Why,
I’ll go to the shucking with Bill
Smith!”
At a Southern camp-meeting, hold
many years ago, says tho Boston
Trunscript, wore two ministers who
were mutual antagonists. One of
them, Brother Duvis, had a wooden
leg, and, when he was espe
cially wrought up, would .emphasize
eyery word by thumping 011 the plat
form. During one of the sessions of
the camp-meeting, when tlio public
tCnt was crowded, and Brother Davis
was exhorting with all tho energy iu
his powor, Brother Jones appeared
with a gold-headed cane. Pointing
his long, bony finger at him, Brother
Davis exclaimed:
‘ ‘Brother Jones, there’ll bo no gold -
headed canes in heaven!”
“No,” said Brother Jones, angered
by the sudden attack, “and no wood
en-logged proachors^eitlior. ”
JEFFERSON DAVIS,
What a Political Opponent Says
of Him.
NO. 18
A story is told of a elergymun who
forgot his notes on a Sunday morn
ing, and us it- was too late to send for
them he said to his audicnco, by way
of apology, that this morning he
would have tii depend upon the Lord
for what lie might say, but iu the,
evening he would coiuo better pre
pared.
Memphis Avulunche.
A braver man never lived than
Jefferson Duvis. Mistaken lie is,
but bo is tho most notable'represen
tative of the heroic ago now living.
Ho stands a monument of valor,
impervious alike to tho assaults of
public and private slander. It is
nearly forty years ago that tho writer
of this artiolo first became acquainted
with Jefferson Davis. Now an bid
man, then a boy, tho writer was cap
tured by tho brilliant intellectual
gifts of tho ex-Prosidont. Tho gla
mour of his genius onvoloping the
youthful mind cvorreinainod. When
war came thero worn two sides.
Davis wastlio oh iof on one side. Ilis
admirer was a privato on the other
side. But through all the vicissitudes
and calumny of four years the star of
Jefferson Davis never set in that
young man’s mind. No liftin' who
ovor once know Davis could over
doubt his honor, Ho is the ono mail
of all the South whoso wont is as
good as his bond* If mon, like Jef-
forson Davis, lmd steppod to the front,
at tlio conclusion bf the war; tjioru
would have boon no reconstruction
nonsonso. Fifteen years would not
have elapsed, leaving tho South to
tho moroy of the Yazoo bulldozer.
It is a sonsolcss prejudice that
would prevent tho election of Jeffer
son Davis to the United *8tates (Sen
ate. He is the ablest man in tho
South. Ho more truly represents
Southern Democratic opinion than
any man in the country. Ho is
honest and fearless, lie Has tju
itching palm. Of all the public mon
in tho United States no man’s roeoril
shines out so bright and blear as that
of Jefferson Davis. Ho is a man
absolutely incorruptible. A fow of
his kind in tlio American Congress
would have a tendency to leaven a
big lump of rascality that now over
shadows . that body. Tho political
principles of Jefferson Davis arc tho
antipodos of the editor of the Ava*
alanelie, but the Avalanche recognizes
tho honesty, the bravery, and the
representative chmictor of Davis, and
furthermore insists that the ox-Pros-
idont shall be in a place whore he
can make lus great talents felt.
Thirty years ago when Webster,
Olay, Calhoun, Douglas and Crilon-
den woro shining lights in tho Amer
ican Senate, Jefferson Davis was tho
peer of thorn all. No Senator was
more ready in debate. The then
universal verdict was, that tho best
off-hand spoakor was Douglas, and
Douglas more than mot his match iu
Davis. It is a driveling nonsense to
visit all tho sins of tho Confederacy
upon tho head of Jefferson Davis,
lie was but an instrument. Acci
dental circumstances placed him at
the. head of tho Confederacy. Ho
was, however, oi|ly tho voico of a
deep, nil-pervading hostility to
Northern policies. Davis. was iio
more guilty than millions of his
countrymon, who shared his beliefs
and tirgod him to the front. The
furious assaults upon Davis by North
ern journals fourteen years after tho
close of the war shows a mean malig
nancy of spirit in 110 wise creditable
;to human nature. There is not ono
spark of magnanimity in the brOasfs
iof Davis’ dofitmers. To gain a party
jndvantage the thoroughly unscrupu
lous Northern press do not hcaitato
to give circulation to the most absurd
falsehoods regarding both the public
aud private cliuractcr of Jefforson
Davis. Mississippiang will honor
their State and confer a great favor
on the people of the whole country
by sending Davis to the United
.States Senate.;
The young lady whose lovor wrote
her that he was doing duty on the
tented field, afterwards ascertained
that instead of fighting Indians, he
drove a team for a circus.
A fop asked a friend what apology
ho should'muko for not being ouc at
the party the day before, to which
he hud ;i i'<i <>i in vital ion.
•‘Oh. in\ dear sir,” replied tlio
nothing about it, you were
never missed.” V -
‘ •v'-JS
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