Newspaper Page Text
VOL. 3.
DUBLIN, GEORGIA, WEDNESDAY, APRIL 20, 1881.
NO. 42.
TALBOT TREVOH TREACHERY.
BY COLONEL PRENTISS IN GRAHAM.
"Congratulate mb, Talbot, for my
appointment arrived last night, and
I start in two days for West Point,;”
and Ned Burton drew up his spirited
horse at the door of his particular
friend, Talbot Trevor, who auswer-
«dj_ .._ ^ .
“And I, too, have good news,
Ned, for I leave soon for the city,
Judge Blaine having written me to
come on and read law in his office.”
“No dull law for me, Talbot, for
I long for a life of excitement, and I
intend to rise rapidl£tos a soldier,
while you are brow^pPmg witnesses
and endeavoririg to find out by legal
lore who struck Billy Patterson.”
"Ah, I shall divide my lime be
tween law and literature, as I have a
particular desire to become a good
writer, and you know I have already
written some very readable articles
for our town papers; but come,
return homo with me, for this will
lie oiir-hibt day together for many a
year.” .
: The two had been chums from
their earliest boyhood, the one being
the son of a widow in moderate
circumstances, and the other the
son of Judge Burton, the wealthiest
man'in the town where the youths
lived.
Fond of life, yet free from dissipa
tion, and- both of them handsome,
dashing youths', it was predicted that
'they woiild make their, mark in the
world, as they bade each other fare
well, the ouo to enter West Point,
the other to read law, they mentally
resolved that they would hot go
through 1 i fe -like; diH»b.' J ri-veihcut-
tic, but
Would leave behind them'
• Footprints in the sands of Time V
•From the day of his entrance at
the Military Academy, Ned Burton
sct.out to stand at the head of his
class, and this determination held-to
him through the four arduous years
of study, and placed his name as No.
1. the day he bade West Point fare
well.
In passing through New York on
his leave, prior to being ordered to
the regiment to which lie hud been
ordered on the frontier, lie called
upon bis old-time friend, Talbot
Trevdr, with whom he had kept up
a regular correspondence.
“Well, Tab, I graduated with first
bpnors,” he said, after the two had
grasped hands in warm welcome.
“I am glad to hear it, old fellow,
though you have surprised me, as
you know yon never were very fond
of books.”
“True; a gun. dog or horse had
more attraction for me in those ‘days
of lang syne;’ but I stuck to work
with a will, and now have my foot on
the first round of the ludciei’ of pro
motion. But how have you fared?”
“Me? Oil, very well. I read law
and. was admitted to practice; then I
dabbled in medicine, and a month
ago received my diplomo to kill by
. toy scieuce, and—
‘JsWlmt! a lawyer and a doctor,
both, Talbot?”
•‘Oh, yes; for in my profession I
should know a little of everything.”
4 “And what is your profession
Talbot?”
“Alii I thought I had told you. !
aril ah author.” And there was
considerable egotism in the reply of
the young aspirant for literary
honors.
“True; you sent ine some of^ur
writings, arid I enjoved tliciri because
yon wrote then,, Talbot. tl,o„ S l. '
must confess they seemed a little too
pedantic; but you know best, and
hope yon are making yonr pen pay
yon.”
“Aii, yes, Ned; bnt it is np-hil)
work at first, you know. Yet I have
. set the ball of success rolling up hill
mid am engaged on sketches tor some
for others, and I have
ias for our thea-
IVhy, you are busy; and I wish
every success.” And after
Stir* ' v
dinner together the two friends, a
second time parted.
Six months after that parting Ned
Burton was winning fame upon the
frontier in an Indian war, and had
been twice recommended for promo
tion,- and often mentioned in dis
patches for gallantry on the field.
And Talbot Trevor was plodding
away iri New Yo.ik, driving his pen
hard, and piling up MS., but finding
its marketable value just enough to
keej> him comfortably, and not allow
him to get much ahead; and his
mother being dead, and having had
only a life interest in the property
that had supported her comfortably,
the young man had to depend wholly
upon himself.
One day he received a letter from
Ned Burton,- and it particularly in
terested him, for it asked him to call
upon Miss Lon Levore, the daughter
of a distinguished officer who had
been ordered to New York on duty.
“Miss Lavere,” added Nod Burton,
“is the one girl in the world for mo,
and one of these days I intend to ask
her to be mV wife, so I wish you to
see her, Talbot, and tell me what
yon think of her; and, by the way,
don’t forget to throw in a good word
for yours truly.”
Of course, Talbot Trevor called on
Lon Lilvero, and, at sight, he full in
love with the beautiful girl, whoso
character was as lovely as wore her
face and form.
And, at a glance, almost, he dis
covered that her opinion of Ned
Burton ^.as. such that when she was
asked to become his wife she would
not refuse, for, when Talbot Trevor
took his leave, she said, earnestly:
‘Oh, Mr. Trevor, please write to
Lieutenant Burton and ask him to
very reckless lie is, .and tlio officers
and men say lie will surely be killed;
you will tell him to be careful, for I
know yon have influence with him,
ho has ever spoken of yon so
highly.”
Talbot Trevor promised, but in his
heart-there came tho first* bitter
thought he had ever had against his
friend, and he muttered as ho walked
back to his room:
If ho throws his life away it is
not my fault; and then Lou Liivere
may learn to love mo.”
To win admiration from Miss La
vere, Talbot Trevor worked with
redoubled energy, and with the half
dozen plays he had written,’went
from manager to manager, begging
to read them what lie knew would
make their fortuuo and his own,
should they put it on the stage.
But tho managers thought differ
ently after hearing several acts of
each play reud, and declined them,
with the advice to the writer that,
if he persevered, in time ho might
bring out a drama that would make
a hit.
In time I will be an old mari;
but these fellows are fools, egotists,
who think they alone know wlmt will
suit the public; but I will try again,
for I must write something brilliant
to find favor in the eyes of Lou
Lavere, for she actually yawned
behind her fan, when I read to her
last night my lcarucd article upon
tiie ‘Immortality of the Brute Crea
tion/ I am afraid my stylo may be
a little too heavy,” and entering his
rooms Talbot Trevor fotind there a
box that had arrived from the.West
by express.
It was from Ned Burton, and con
tained a lot of Indian curiosities,
some lumps of gold and silver ore,
and a roll of manuscript.
“Well, what is this?” and Talbot
took up tho package of paper and
looked ut it.
“What! a play, and written by
Ned Burton? Why, tho man is
crazy to think that, he can write, for
how he ever passed through West
Poiift, I cannot understand—oh!
here is his letter,” and oponing it,
he read:
“Came Alert, Sept. 10,18—.
“My dear old Talbot: I send
you herewith a few souvenirs that
may be acceptable, as they are criri
ositica in New York; also some ore
of a couplo of mines in which I
bought small interests; if they ‘pan
UUU^llO pimui iiitVACOio* u Ulivnr
out’ big, then you and 1 must give up
the pen and sword,.and run to Europe
for a couplo of years.
“Lon writes mo that you call often,
and sho likes you immensely; but
don’t fall in lovo with her, Talbot,
for vou know sho is my bright pur-
ticufar star.
“Yon have, doubtless, seen no-
cnnnto of piTT linnlTrurk Uovo,
not bore you with repeating the
story, and I have but‘a moment to
write. Goud-byo, and luck to yon.
“Yours, Ned.
“P. S.—Just received orders to
movo upon the Indians and expect h
hot time, but hope to win my cap
taincy.
“By the way, I have employed my
leisure hours in soribbling, and ; just
to please Lou, have written a play,
though she knows nothing about it,
and I have Kept it. as a dead secret
from my brother officers, not willing
to be laughed at for a pedantic fool;
I now send it to \ r ou, and its title is
‘The Vagabond/ ”
“Of course you can, at a glance,
decido upon its merits, if it has any,
and bring it out for me; if |b lias
only demerits, which I believe, make
cigar-lighters of it, and as you love
mo, do not tell Lou. Good-bye
again. Ned.”
“Well, hero goes for tho first cigar
lighted with Ned’s nonsense,” and
tlio title page was rolled up and held
in the*blaze; but as Talbot Trevor
sat musing and smoking, his cyo full
upon the opening words of ‘The
Vagabond/ and something m them
caused him to read farther.
And, as each pago .was read, he
continued on tin til at last lie dropped
the ms. and said; angrily:
“Why, in the name of tho saints,
didn’t! think of this ? It will go as
certain as I sit hero—if I lot a man
ager see it, which I will take good
mr-Doir i3itverc-+»i»ttii
With a coinfortablo bank account,
and a “royalty” upon his plays,
Talbot Trovor was living in lino stylo
and lmd bought and furnished a
small residence, in which Ho was to
install his brido within anothor
month.
Seated in lus sumptuous homo one
evening, making notes for u now play,
the servant suddenly ushered in a
visitor, afv3”~Wfth*"'TT'cry oTTiorror ^K iJeiTlTpar^adsdCTr,-nrhe-isasoHff-
merchant ami a close observer:
lie play, and no one clso than Lou
Land ^|||^'Klia|i|^haw. of ’|yqijr
never know tlmt Ned; Bitr£oo« dto .la-eacl^^d^^dt you can make ont
what I cannot.” of it you are welcome to, yon Imusfc
Jylio was half tempted to ddstrb^ j^l
mt refrained from so doing, ami
Talbot Trovor started back, for Ned
stood .before Jim,
l Burton, I believed you
dead 1” he said, iri it hoarse voice.
“So it would seem, Talbot, from
what has occurred; but I came riot
hero to quarrel With !you— Hold 1 I
know all, for, in coming East, after
my escapei from a long imprisonment
among tho Sioux, I stopped over
in Chicago, and seeing ‘The
Vagabond’ advertised, went to the
theatre, and witnessed my play ver
batim, with your name as author.
“So be it; you have reaped a rich
harvest, arid I will not rob yon of it,
for my mining shares turned out
well, and I am a rich mini; but for
your treachery I will punish you by
taking from you Lou Lavere,-'whom
you won under false prelenccs.”
“Noverl She know that you could
not write a play, or thought so, and
you have no proof, and she will re
main true tome,” said Talbot Tro
vor, fiercely.
•‘Unfortunately for you, I keep a
copy of.all my letters, and tho In
dians did not got my copying-book,
and I showed to Lou just' What yon
m
tow
one
locked it up ufter a moment’s
thought.
The next day, us he read his morn
ing paper and ate his breakfast, his
his eyes fell upon tlm telegraph head
lines: “An Indian Masacro—Sev
eral officers and a mnnbec^f soldiers
sliiin!”
Eagerly lie read what followed,
and it told him that among tho dead
left oil the field was. the * “gallant
Lieut. Edward Burton, who sacri
ficed his life to save a wounded cor
poral.”
“Poor, poor Ned! just like liiin<to
do such a deed!” said Talbot Trevor,
his heart touched by the loss of his
friend; hut his better nature soon
vanished, for he sprang to his feet
with a flushed face, and cried:
‘Now is Lou Liivere mine—aye
and more, ‘The Vagabond’ is mine.”
Six months after; -Talbot, Trovor
arose at sunrise one morning, arid
eagerly seized the half dozen papers
ho had ordered left at his rooms, anti
read the criticisms upon “The Vii
gabond,” presented for the first tinie
the night beforp.
“My fortune is made, for they
laud it to tho skies,” cried the lib
ry tnjef, arid lie spoke the tout;
for his name was upon every one’s
lips, as having written the most sue
cessful American play ever produced
and one that could bring a tear and
a laugh together, being full of the
most touchingpathos and the raciest
humor.
And Lou Lavere, whose eyes had
grown red since the day of the Indian
massacre, smiled upon tho young
author kiudly, and offored her warm
est congratulations; nay more, us
time wont by, and the fame of Tal
hot increased, sho promisea liim her
hand, for her father willingly gave
Ivis consent when ho fonnd that
Trevor, was no longer an impeenni
oils yoimg scribbler.
Having made a success, of course
Talbot Trevor’s writings were in do
maud, and, with tho aid of a Bolic
mian, who hud brains hut no money
he wrote several other plays that al
so U>pk well, and for which ho paid
. the real author enough to keep him
from starving for a few months
‘ifp*'• * fVi 1 1 * v ' f / t , to;
wheat this year, and it becomes every
farmer to ho up and doing. If wo
don’t make a surplus theso railroads
will snffor and bo impoverished foV
want of freight. The stock will
tumble for want of dividends. Tho
merchants will have no ‘customers
who can pay for what they buy.
Then tho bunkers will have no hot?-
rowers they can trust* Says I to
a ^
“Suppose this turns out to bo a vory
poor crop year, what then?* “Why,
sir,” said ho, “tho whole country
will bo broke. The corn and meat
and hay and guano tlurt steamboats
and railroads are pouring into this
country on a credit will not bo
paid for. Everything depends on a
good crop year—more so than I liavo
over known.”
I went round by Dalton to got to
Rome—eighty milos to make twenty
—for the Romo and Kingston lino
had not been repaired. It’s all right
now; waiting for tho lioxb freshet.
Dalton is a lively pined, and says she
wouklciit liavo a river if sho oould.
That’s all right, I reckon* for I liko
to see folks contented and happy,
though I told Mr. Lewis I couldent
help thinking about tho feller who
wouldent liavo the corn because it
wasbnt Bholled. But ho noodont care
about rivors or anything else as long
as he can keep that tub mill agoing.
Six train loads of passengers a day to
feed, and ho sots a good, table, and
everybody knows it. Ho is an olo
1 inn win!?*— JMvn OniiiflV- Ad Allis
so gaily 1 stud,, “You don’t loo’ i vko
you lost anything ; byy Uienbmilr/’
“Loss the mischief, no, sir* Uni to
setts; I owo em'aud Fin ctijoined
from payiug ovor. Ain’t it splen
did?” .
Ilavittg some business ab Gii iwle.u
I journeyed to that little movUimo
city and was astonished at ito pro
gress since I wits.yon; i
■ago. Tho population has nearly
doubled. They haven't, twill, any
more falls butt they have bn ih. nraro
saw mills, and lots of now-sUntr* aii l
dwelling houses and a steamboat and
a hotol that would do credit to dome
or ntiy other such town. Itte a jive-
ly, prosperous city-with fino y rsk-
pects. Boh Kyle used to owrr tom'
concern pretty much, bnt lie lmd t
now. IIo lias worked hard and done
muoh.to build it up arid ought To be
proud of his success. It’s astonish
ing how much ono onorgoticiruu. eon
do for a place. The ladies mn re
joicing over tlio speody banishment
of whisky from tlmt county; 'the
law has boon passed on tlyo vote arid
before long tho bar-rooms wiii be
closod, and a man will have toH nui;
of the county to got-it, for id sale
is prohibited, both at' wKblosr- tod
retail. Wlutt they want now \ lor
publio opinion to sustains the bin to!
givo it a fair tost. It’s a womup
movement to protect tlioir husbtod.
and sons, and L wish the women jiU
ovor the lurid had the right to vote,
on that question, if no olltt\r. I'm
are mbro intoyestodein it limn
anybody olso.
her. as this letter will show
ymi,” and Captain Burton Imnrlod
"tlio whjte-faced, trembling man a
short ifofo from Lou Lavere, severing
the engagement between them, arid
telling him that, for tho future, they
were strangers to each other.
Talbot Trevor bowed his head in
humiliation and sorrow, for ho dearly
loved Lou Lavere, and when lie
mised-it, Ned-Burton had gone, and
from that day they never mot again,
for tho young officer, still suffering
from his wounds and long captivity,
had resigned from the army, and
soon after started to Europo for a
long stay abroad. ,
But ho wept not alone, for Lou
Lavoro became his wife on the very
day that her marriago with Talbot
Trevor was to have been consummat
ed, and when they again returned to
America, tlio purloiner of another
man’s brains hud become a Bohemian
of the lowest order, and, in fact,
a vagabond.
Bill Arp’s Suudtiy Clint.
[Written for the Atlanta Constitution.]
There’s nothing settled. Spring
and win ter keep skirmishing around.
Tho deadlock ut Washington Coti-
J*mnes. ItyUtoud stocksjire jumping
up. and down. Money kings and
corporation magnates butt heads
awhile and then retire on a still
hunt we, tho people, look on and
wonder and excluim what is all this
devilment going to do to us? Farm
ing has begun about in spots. Tho
fruit is killed in some orchards and
left alive in others. The flood has
Ws and P. Js and T. Ms and . A. Js
and II. Os and J* Os, but tlio old
Adahis family wasont vcry popular
with our people. When I got. to
Rome I found a fresh sensation* for
ti iaiik-Jmd huate,d-aiid evoi*y miiii;
whbidtf^y'irtlioiigiit his own-case,
the hardest, and all of ohi were mud
with the State for bagging the assets.
The State is rich and they.are poor
and they want to know what right
she has to u preforonco. Yon can
argue with tho man about it, bnt
Mr. Speer had better keep clear of
tiro womenjf ho knows.what's good
for him. Oho good lady had $050
in there arid when Alio heard that
the bank was a little shaky, she told
■'-tm iiiHHlMMi iW
passed away, but the wreck of it stili
lingers in tho land. Tho. bridges
have not been rebuilt, and the soil on
many farms has been taken off and
left holes and pits which cannot bo
filled up. Fences have not been re
placed, und there’s enough rails in the
gulf of Mexico to build a corduroy
bridge across it. It would ho a good
time now to vote on a stock law—
“fence or in fence.” . We have
worked hard for ten drive hauling
rock und building rock pens and
filling ’em. It’s double, double toil
and troublo. hut still we arc not un
happy. We donto set on the bank
and cuss at my liouse. It don’t pay.
Corn is going to he corn and wheat
her husband to take it out, but I
put on generous airs about it and
said it would bo wrong—it would
show a lack of confidonco—that it
was confluence that sustained hanks
and kept cm from breaking. A few
days afterwards the bank broke and
he went homo a saddor man and got
demoralized and went to bed sick
and took on atnazin, and wouldehl
eat aud couldent sloop and groaned
and tumbled about on tho bed and
called for morphiuo and finally his
wife told him to sit up a minute and
then sho- showed' him. a package of
nio.noy marked $000, and informed
him sho took tho money out herself
before ih'c suspension, and he
well ini mediately, and danced all
aroririd tlio' roomr arid kissed her
forty times without stopping, and on
looking at tho package again, “Why,”
says he, “this is only $600, and we
had $G0O.” “That’s so,” said his
wife, “I took onfc $600 for us and
left $50 iri there for confidence.
Bnt you nuisont joke with ’em
much ns yot. They are not in a jok
ing hmnor. The pulpit text now in
that town is “Lay up your treasures
in Heaven/’ and one of tlio ministers
added: “Wb«ro there are no pre
forred creditors.” Well, >its bad,
vory bad, especially on poor folks,
hut there are a heap of good people
who dident have any to put ill a
bank, and I reckon we will liavo to
be sorry for them, too. I heard of a
poor sickly woman who had scratch
ed up fifty dollars and put it in there
to pay her burial expenses, and wlion
sho heard it was gone sho got up out
of bed and said she couldent afford
to die now, and is sewing uway to
nmko some more. ■
An old acquaintance sulntcd mo
Georgia Western and tlio r.p,
toad; arid then'with tho Coosa open
od up to Mobile in a few yours it
would be a considerable city. Tho
coal that was burnt in my grritootM
only ton cents, ri bushel, and that m
aborit $2.50 a tori, and it come 'riyVu
a mine near tho suburbs.
is proud of Gadsden, and wlion ou
ask about the population i>yt ! >
oonsiiH they don’t know cxnolly hut
will tell you that Bthulrods liavo
moved in since the oonsus was tukou.
I remember asking Gousin Cluim
Thrasher about tho population - of
T’odoa.City, and-lio said-Hie <«*tiOuK
give ’em 700lmt;it wason’t half‘taly-'u
pad two families and ft ftlggcr lpul
moved in since. I-do like to suo
folks stand up to their jowu—; ■ u'!,
you? Bill Act;,
ltc warded for Her Pi nek.
Tluj most remarkable wedd. ■ <>n
record took place near Rich mead,■
Va., "ft few days ago, the cr
stances of which would furniuli
malcrial for a novelist’s plot;
Westland Pierce, a young gau^lo.
mrin of Richmond, imeion sorin' ‘tom
been iri lovo with Miss Daisy '
maker, tho.prctty daughter of a,Well
known fanner living near tin / triage.
ThoyOring lady’s parents ohi. .
but tlio ardent lover persumi i 5h;!
sweetheart, who was under . -
one years, to agree to elope wi; h lii-n.-.
It was agreed that she should take
her tutber’a fanggy and drive in{n | fm
adjoining county, where her ‘ lover
would he waiting with a mai .|tiaio
and witnesses to consuminji^iilm
marriage. When the time caAfe/or
Miss Daisy to Hturt her coil nig. toiled
rind she would not go. Hoi
Miss Jane, a bewitching hr.
two years her senior, who was in the
plot, begged her U» keep Uci tnat.
with her lover, but all in vain.
“Well, if you don’t keep yonr word
with West Pierce I’ll do it foi yon,
sho said, rind indignantly leavrifghev
sister she got into Hie bug;.,), and
dashed off, despite tho Ec.rutou* s*f
her sister, whoeonjd not divim . }mr
purpose. Miss Jane reached the
waiting place, 'explanations ’were
made; sho said she was Willing 1 to
take her sister’s place. The Ijm 1 ! ,
touched by' lior’pluck an 3 capt iyated
by her dotcrnuiimtion not to It: tho
plan fall through/* did aoi.nftily
marry her.
A smile is the bay window . !
human heart.