Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

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 ©