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[For The Sunny South.]
A SEA ASEMO.VE—TO F. AV.
BT MET. B. COLQUITT.
She and I were idly sailing
Under gleaming Southern skies.
Where the shifting, silver star-light
Mingled with faint sunset dyes;
And she made a dainty picture—
This fair flower of tropic bloom—
Her warm, sentient Psyche face
Framed in waves of chestnut gloom.
The peach-bloom, sea-shell tinting
Of her bright face—how it grew!—
A rose-glory in the moon-light,
With its oleander hue.
Her clear eyes—how can I limn them ?—
With their lucent depths of gray,
Full of oriental languors
And of star-light all astray.
She was singing, Boftly singing
Many a low, contralto note,
Dipping downward snow-flake hands
That like lilies seemed to float
Close beBide the little shallop.
On the wavelet's crested rim;
And their whiteness the white radiance
Of the sea-foam seemed to dim.
Her rare beauty scarce seemed human
In that mystic, happy hour;
And I named her Sea Anemone—
Richest, sweetest, sea-blown flower.
[Written for The Sunny South.]
THE RING ACCURSED.
BA’ RUTH FAIRFAX.
CHAPTER IX.
Lady Regina and her child returned to Druri
court—-there they lived and died. But one of
the name remained to perpetuate the Druid’s
race: Orrnand Druricourt, the son of Regina,
who had once been called Clifford.
The king reared his ward, Charles Le Roi, as
if he had been a prince: and not until he felt
his own end approaching, did he place in his
hand the ring with the warning words he had
written that fatal night.
The half-brothers never met.
As generations passed, the names of Druri
court and Le Roi became slightly altered, but
never died out. There was always one son to
transmit it to his descendant—always one, but
never any more. In some generations the evil
wishes of Regina were fulfilled to the uttermost;
in others, less, according as the mystic ring
found in the hearts of its wearer more or less
of evil upon which to work, but still continuing
a token of misfortune awaiting that far-off hour
when the mystic characters should find their
meaning in one unknown, who should see it, un
seen, and break the double-curse of Regni, the
Druid priest, and Regina of Druricourt.
PART FIFTH.
CHAPTER I.
THE TWENTY-EIGHTH DAY OF DECEMBER.
Eleven o’clock on the night of December
twenty-eighth, eighteen hundred and forty-nine,
the express train from New York had just en
tered the depot of the “ Camden <fc Amboy Rail
road.” The ferry-boat, a miserable little con
trivance, ostentatiously called “Washington,”
awaited the passengers. The usual hurry, rush
and bustle ensued; everybody tried as hard to
be first on the boat as though his or her life de
pended on the accomplishment of the feat. It
was nothing unusual for the cars to enter the
depot at eleven o’clock; it was nothing unusual for
the people to crowd frantically forward, but it
was a very, eery unusual thing to see a tall, grace
ful, elegantly-attired young man offer his arm to
an old or infirm person, whose thread-bare gar
ments and faltering step betokened poverty and
age. The sight is indeed rare; look well upon
it. He offers his arm, bows his stately head and
whispers:
“If you will lean upon me, sir, I will help
you through this crowd.”
“Thank you,” replied the elder man, with a
slight start of surprise. “I shall take great
pleasure in accepting yoiir proffered kindness.”
The young man noted the courteous phrase—
the low, well-modulated tones, as those of a
high-bred gentleman, and again he spoke:.
“ You will find these boards very slippery, sir;
take care!”
“Your assistance is invaluable. I have been
ill, and my feeble limbs can scarce support me.”
Here the old man turned to a young girl, who
was trying her best to keep near him, and said:
“Take my arm now; our kind friend will as
sist us to the boat.”
“Pardon!” exclaimed the elegant stranger.
“I had not observed the lady. Will she permit
me?” And he extended his band to her.
She modestly and promptly accepted his as
sistance, and as he clasped her little fingers in
his a quick thrill of emotion passed through
his heart. For a moment the ground seemed to
rock beneath his feet, and bright flashes shot
athwart the sky. He would have turned in his
endeavor to see his companion’s face, but they
were now passing to the boat, and he was obliged
to give all his attention to their footing. Again,
when they were in the cabin, he turned toward
her, but again he was disappointed, for a large
brown vail muffled her whole head and face—
more, it seemed, as a protection against the cold
than for any other purpose. He looked at her
companion. His eyes were large and bright, his
cheeks pale and pinched, while the thin, glove
less hands were purple with cold. The young
man’s heart smote him as he glanced at his own
fur-trimmed overcoat and seal-skin gloves. For
a moment he hesitated, then quietly placing a
handsome traveling-bag at his feet, he removed
a heavy, gray shawl that was suspended by a
strap crossing his shoulder, and bending close
to the ear of the old gentleman, whispered:
“My dear sir, allow me to lend you my shawl;
you can return it to-morrow.”
A faint flush crept over the sunken cheeks,
and a low sob broke from the vailed lips of the
girl as the old man replied:
“I will not pain you by refusing your kind
ness. Give me your address.”
The words had scarcely left his lips when the
boat struck the wharf with a quick shock; the
crowd again surged madly forward; the lender
and borrower of the shawl were separated in an
instant.
The old man and his daughter were borne on
ward, while the stalwart form of the young
Southerner bravely withstood the rush, and was
left behind the moving mass. Suddenly a hand
was laid on his shoulder, and a loud, hearty
voice cried in his very ear:
“Hello ! Le Roi. Glad to see yon—been wait
ing on the wharf half an hour. It’s fearfully
cold ! Give me your checks; my boy will at- j
tend to your baggage. Hey ! what's the matter >
now ?—lost anything ?”
“Nothing of consequence,” was the reply;
“my satchel was at my feet—it isn’t there now !” j
“Of course not! Ha! ha! Come on; you!
can find another one to-morrow—no use looking
for that one.”
They left the boat, followed the now-scattered
of human beings up to the corner of Wal
nut and Second streets, where a handsome pri
vate carriage awaited them. The baggage-checks
were placed in the footman's hand, and the two
gentlemen hastened to avail themselves of the
offered shelter, for a fine rain, freezing as it fell,
was cutting their faces like sharp points of steel.
The spirited horses dashed rapidly up Walnut
street, passed Thirteenth, and stopped before a
large, handsome house, brilliantly lighted from
top to bottom. Soft strains of music floated
from the mansion; the light, warmth and sweet
sounds within forming a delicious contrast to
the cold, dreary scene without.
“You have company!” exclaimed the new
comer.
“Yes, a few friends of Mrs. Kendrick's from
New York. Will you be presented to-night?”
“Thank you; no. I am very tired, and will
go to my room at once, if you please.”
A quick-eared waiter came forward.
“ Show Dr. Le Roy to his room, and see that a
a light supper be taken up to him,” said the host.
“ Good-night, Paul—see you at breakfast.” He
waved his hand, and entered his private library,
while Paul Le Roy followed the servant.
Half-way up the stairs he was met by a vision
of beauty, which seemed as if it had floated
fresh from heaven. Dr. Le Roy bent his head
in respectful silence, and stood aside while it
passed, but he could not forbear one backward
glance as he placed his foot on the last step.
He turned; she too had turned, and was looking
up. Their eyes met, and while their glances
held each other for a moment, twelve silvery
chimes rang out from the French clock in his
room, the door of which stood open, the bright
fire making all within home-like and cheery.
The twenty-eighth day of December had
ended, and within its last hour our hero had
met those destined to exercise a powerful influ
ence over his future life.
Entering the room, he cast aside his outer
wrappings, and threw himself wearily into a
large arm-chair near the fire.
“Well, now, this is comfortable,” he exclaimed,
looking around him; “everything just as I like
it. I wonder who she is? Nice fire, soft carpet,
wide bed. I wonder if she is staying with Mrs.
Kendrick? Mrs. Kendrick? By governor! I’ve
lost her bracelet! Now what am I going to do?
How dhl I come to lose that satchel ? Could that
old man have taken it? No ! I’ll not believe it;
he was a gentleman. Let me see—there was
Mrs. Kendrick’s bracelet that her brother sent
her, worth five hundred dollars, at least; a pack
age of important papers, worth double that sum;
that carved ivory brush I was so silly as to give
thirty dollars for, and that photograph of mine
that mother thinks so much of. Lucky I had it 1
copied before I left New Y'ork, for it’s gone now.
I believe that is all I have lost, except a few un
important odds and ends. AU! I think it is
quite enough. Heavens ! how lovely she is!” :
(His thoughts returned to the beauty he had
met on the stairs.) “I must know her !”
Here he drew a cigar from his pocket and
commenced smoking, his fancy still busy with
the lovely stranger. He was roused from his
reverie by the entrance of a waiter with his
“light supper.”
“Well, Bob, let me see what you call a ‘light 1
supper’ in Philadelpnia,” he said, pleasantly, 1
throwing his cigar into the fire and turning to
the table.
“John, if you please, sir,” answered the ser
vant, pouring out a cup of coffee for Paul.
“Ah ! John is it? Well, John, your light sup- j
per would serve admirably for a heavy dinner !
This coffee is delicious ! ah ! made it yourself— j
I know by that look. Well, it is rather late to j
call up the cook. One of those cakes please—
nothing more, and take all this dinner away.
Oh ! by the way—John, who is that lady ? I
met her on the stair-way, you know.”
“Miss Beatrice Warner, sir—Mrs. Kendrick’s
niece.”
“Staying here?”
“For the present, yes, sir; but she lives in
New l r ork, mostly with her uncle, Mr. May.”
John retired, and Le Roy, murmuring, “An
orphan, poor child,” lit another cigar, and fell
into a “brown study.” The clock struck one,
and rising suddenly he prepared for bed, where,
lulled by sounds of sweet music, he soon slept
soundly.
“You are right, Tillie, as you always are,”
said Bessie.
“You are both very kind.” said Lora Drurie.
wearily. “I am very tired, it is true, Miss
Tillie. and your tea is the very thing I want, but
I am not too tired. Miss Bessie, to answer your
kind inquiry. However, papa shall tell his'own
good news.”
“Well, Miss Clark, at last we may hope for
success,” answered Mr. Drurie, cheerfully.
A cry of unfeigned delight broke from the
lips of both the sisters, but much as they wished
to hear how this probability of success had been
brought about, their kind hearts would not let
them pause long enough from their hospitable
efforts to hear the particulars. Miss Tillie de
manded the key of her guest’s apartments, and
taking up a handful of wood, left her sister to
prepare the simple supper while she made a fire
in Mr. Drurie’s sitting-room, I suppose I must
call it, but it was more properly a work-room,
for little tools were neatly arranged all about
the place.
In vain both father and daughter protested
against this arrangement. Their friends were
not to be denied the pleasure of ministering to
their comfort, and so by the time they finished
their tea the room was ready for them' With a
cordial good-night they retired.
“We must advertise this bag, daughter, and
find its owner,” said Mr. Drurie, drawing a chair
to the fire.
“Advertise !” repeated Lora with a faint smile.
“Do you know h’ow much money we have left,
papa?”
“No, dear child; I give all I get to you, for
you take better care of it than I could. How
much have you ?”
“One dollar,” answered Lora; “and that I
must spend to-morrow for food.”
“We couldn’t keep the bag until we get money
from New Y'ork, could we?” questioned Mr.
Drurie.
“No,” answered his daughter, with a sad
smile; “no, papa, we could not wait for that.”
Poor child! she had been disappointed so
often that she had not full faith in the coming ,
of that money from New York.
“But we must find the owner!” he exclaimed.
“Yes, we must find him,’’repliedLora, taking
up the bag and examining it. “Why, father, it
isn’t locked, and I think it would be no harm to
examine its contents. We may find his name on
some of the articles.”
“True, my dear; and as we have no money to
advertise it, I see no other way. No money ! I
think, Lora, I will never get used to being poor.”
“Never mind, dear, dear papa,” said Lora, af
fectionately. “We have passed through a very
dark hour; perhaps the dawn is just before us.”
“Oh! I am sure it is!” cried Mr. Drurie,
hopefully. “You see, my dear, that machine
must work; there is no possibility of a failure
color, yet neither in shape nor color lies their
chief beauty. It is the expression, and who can
paint the swift-changing glances of the human
eye? They flash with the fire of genius, yet it is
not that which so bewilders the beholder,—they
sparkle with merriment, they glow with indig
nation. they melt with pity, they say, “Come,
tell me your sorrows; I will sympathize with
you.” It is all of these, and more, that makes
them so wondrous. They speak the pure
thoughts of a pure heart. And yet. having these
eyes, I have dared to say that Lora Drurie is not
beautiful! I take back the words—she is more
than beautiful, she is glorious !
ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS.
[We have received a great many questions which cannot
be answered in this issue, as we cannot devote more than
one column to this important department. They will all
be attended to, however. Each enquirer shall have a
respectful hearing.]
Ruth (Palmetto, Ga.,) says: “I have a little
matter I wish you to settle. Is it proper for a
lady to invite a gentleman, on his taking his
leave, to ‘Call again.' Now. please don't say if
she wants him to return, it is proper or polite;
She rouses from her reverie and places the ; for I am young yet, and find better companion-
picture in its envelope, but the image is forever
graven on her heart.
(TO BE CONTINUED. 1
ship among my books than with most young
men of my acquaintance, but am anxious to
know, as there is a difference of opinion on the
subject. Please answer and oblige.” ... If
the young gentlemen is polite and worthy, it is
certainly proper to invite him to call again.
Simple politeness demands that much, and the
young man should so construe the invitation.
Y'oung ladies should always say in a dignified
manner, to worthy young men leaving their resi
dences, that they would be pleased to have them
call again.
S. B. W. (Alexandria. Va.) writes: “Last sum
mer, while at the Virginia Springs, I fell desper
ately in love with a young girl, fresh from
Neat and attractive in appearance, and high- i school of course pretty, sweet, and, in my eyes,
toned and chaste in its literary make-up, it is the very one share miseries and joys of
OPINIONS OF THE PRESS.
The Sunny South fills a vacuum in the news
paper literature of the South long felt, and for
which we have paid sufficient tribute to the
North.— The Enterprise.
The name of this handsome new literary jour
nal is attractive in itself. It is the largest eight-
page literary weekly published in the United
States.— WytheeUle ( Va.) Enterprise.
altogether worthy the patronage of the reading
public, and we hope it will meet with abundant
success.—Southern Household.
YVe have had time to read it carefully, and say
that the paper before us is decidedly the best of
the kind we have ever seen. It is impossible for
us to do justice to it; one must see it and read
it to appreciate it. — Carolina Spartan.
It is beautiful in typography and edited by
brilliant writers. It is a little larger than the
New York Ledger, of similar form, and if sus
tained (as it should be) it will honor the section
which it represents.—Brockport (Ay.) Republic.
YVe know of no paper published in the South
and devoted to literature, romance, science, ed
ucation and general Southern progress, which
deserves more patronage, and one which returns
so much for the price as The Sunny South.—
Sumter (& C.) Republican.
One of the neatest and best executed papers, ;
in its make-up and typographical appearance, j
John H. Seals, an old Atlantean, is its proprie- j
tor. It is just what the South has long needed,
and will be a cherished and welcomed visitor to ;
the people of the South.—Mountain Signal.
Some of the most eminent literary talent of ;
the State and South has been engaged as con
tributors to its columns, and the people may ex- j
pect a paper truly Southern in all respects—the
wedded life. YVe became engaged, vowing eter
nal love. But her father refused to consent to
the marriage. Now we are anxious to obtain bis
consent, and feel his objection cannot be great,
as age is his principal objection. I am nineteen,
well off. and parentless. She is sixteen. Now
what must we do to overcome her father’s objec
tion ?” . . . The father is right in the matter.
You are both too young to marry. It is a bad
plan for children to wed. The gush and ro
mance soon evaporate, and by the time they are
really ot a marriageable age they are disgusted
with each other. Engage in some honorable
business and add to the competency you already
have, and let tli • girl finish her education. She
has a sensible father and will make you a good
wife.
Rosabel (Forsyth, Ga.) writes: “I am engaged
to a young man who has the character of being
a high-toned, honorable gentleman, and I fully
believe that he merits the character. This young
man called a few evenings since, and, on leaving,
requested me to kiss him. pleading his right
as an engaged lover, etc. But I very decidedly
refused, as there is no definite time fixed for our
marriage. He was very angry with me for the
refusal, and some “bitter” words passed be
tween us; he has not called since. Should I
have kissed him ? I love this young man dearly,
and am utterly wretched. Please advise me, as
I can’t go to my friends.” . . . Y'ou did exactly
in it- and of course if it does work as it will it offspring of Southern genius, the germ of its i '■ citni go to my menus. . . . ioii uiu exactly
“;.iWin, A DrosDeritv. No familv in the South ! n 8 ht - An engagement does not give a_ gent e-
will be worth, oh ! any amount!”
j “Yes, papa, I know; I hope you may not be
disappointed. Oh! if we could but serve in
some way the gentleman who gave his shawl to
you. I will never forget him, never ! But see,
here is a beautiful ivory-backed brush with ‘ Le
; R.’ inlaid with gold. I wish it had been the
full name.”
Mr. Drurie examined the brush while Lora
i lifted the next article that met her hand as she
: held the bag open on her lap.
“Here is a jewel-case—oh! how beautiful!”
j She was gazing at the bracelet sent to Mrs.
i Kendrick by her brother.
“It is worth at least five hundred dollars,”
j said Mr. Drurie, taking the rich jewel, in his
hand; “and it is a fortunate thing for Mr. Le R.
that his property has fallen into honest hands.
Here is an inscription, Lora; read it.”
“ ‘ Lizzie Kendrick from her brother, George
\ May,’ ” read Lora from the richly graven band,
j “George May,” repeated Mr. Drurie; “well,
if our friend is the owner of the brush he isn’t
I George May. What else, Lora?”
j “A packet of papers addressed ‘James Ken
drick, 1300 Walnut street,’ and some handker-
! chiefs marked ‘ P. Le R. ’ ”
YVe will apply to Mr. Kendrick if we find no
future prosperity. No family in the South
should be without it .—McDuffie (Ga.) Journal.
The need of such a paper is everywhere felt
and acknowledged, and we may hope that this
new enterprise will not be suffered to fail from !
a want of patronage. The beautiful, clear tv- ;
pography, the pure, elevated tone and richly di- :
versified matter of the paper, should commend it i
to every intelligent reader.—Chester (S. C.) Re
porter.
YVe have received the first number of John H.
Seals’ new literary paper, The Sunny South. It I
is one of the handsomest journals in the coun- i
try, well printed, illustrated, and edited with I
ability. It is equal as a story paper to any j
Northern paper of that class, and being a South- |
ern enterprise should be sustained.—Savannah j
Advertiser.
YVe welcome this magnificent paper to our !
table with sincere pride and pleasure. It is an
other step toward the establishment of a pure,
high-toned Southern literature, and deserves the
support and patronage of every family in the
South. It is prettier than the New York Ledger,
far handsomer than the New York Weekly.—
Rockdale (Ga.) Register.
It has Mary E. Bryan and other eminent au-
man any more right to kiss the young lady he
is engaged to than any other, for
“There's many a slip
’Twixt the cup and lip.’’
Y'oung ladies should remember this. One
privilege leads to another, and designing young
men often take advantage of an engagement, and
claim under it privileges which the young lady
should not for a moment consider. If your
supposed lover does not return any more, you
may rest assured that his motives were not hon
orable, and you are lucky in finding it out be
fore it is too late.
Dora (Americus, Ga.) writes: “I am engaged
to a young man whom I love dearly. He loves
me very much, and is very demonstrative in his
affection; in fact, too much so to please me. He
wants to hold my hand and kiss me, and because
I deny him those privileges he appears to be
very much displeased, and doubts the genuine
ness of my affection. He says that I treat him
very cruelly; that it is customary for lovers to
take those privileges. Do you think it is ? He
calls me all kind of sweet names, much to my
disgust. YVould you allow him to be so affec
tionate? How do you like my writing?” . . .
See our reply to Rosabel. Keep him at arm’s
other address but Mr. Le R. is evidently the | thors editing departments, and a large corps of | length, or his affection will all gush out before
child".?” ' contributors representing the best literary talent | any wedding-day arrives. Tell him to “ call me
YVhile he is sleeping we will follow the foot
steps of the wearer of his shawl and the vailed
girl. No carriage awaited them; they could not
even afford to hire a hack, yet they felt no envy,
as, for a moment, their eyes rested upon their
kind protector ere his handsome carriage bore
him away. They turned down Second, and had
reached the corner of Rice street, when the girl
pressed closer to her father’s side and whispered:
“ That boy in front of us has that gentleman’s
traveling-bag.”
It is better than Bon
ner’s New Y’ork Ledger ever was. YVe regard
this publication second to no similar publication
in the United States, and it should find its way
to every Southern fireside.
owner. Anything more, child. ? . . ,
“A small dressing-case unmarked and a blank j an< \ genius of the South,
envelope unsealed—oh! papa, here is his pho
tograph ! How very like !”
She gazed earnestly upon the picture, forget-
tingto hand it to her father; and while she gazed,
the original of the picture glanced backward at
the lovely Beatrice Warner, while the city clocks
rang out the hour of midnight.
“YVhy, my child,” exclaimed Mr. Drurie,
smiling, “you seem strangely attracted by that
picture. Let me see.”
She handed it to him in silence, her eyes look
ing forward with a far-away gaze as though she
pet names, darling ” after you’ve got the noose
around his neck. Under a promise of marriage
many a poor girl has been ruined for life and all
eternity. Female character once lost, is gone
forever. She can never regain it; so be prudent,
A number of prominent writers and public ! U it costs you a hundred lovers. Time enough
men have agreed to become contributors. The
typography and general appearance is superior
to any Northern weekly of a like character. YVhy
can not the South have its own literary publica
tions ? There are no sufficient reasons why it
can not. Our people are a reading people, and
send a vast sum, in the aggregate, abroad annu-
for privileges after marriage. It will never do
to entrust your honor and good name with young
men. Can’t say much for your writing.
Ethel and Agnes (Tuskegee) write: “YVe saw
in your last week’s paper where four young la
dies from Madison, Georgia, asked the following
questions: 1. Do you approve of a lady kissing
YVithout answering, the old gentleman quick- ' were striving to pierce the mysteries of the fu- ally to satisfy their literary appetite.—The Mon- p er i OV er? 2. Do'you think it very wrong for
ened his steps, and as they passed beneath a gas- : ture
itor, Tennessee.
lamp he saw that she was not mistaken. Reach-
A right noble and handsome face,” said Mr.
ladies to correspond with unknown gentlemen ?
ing out his arm, he grasped the lad by the collar, i Drurie at last; and turning the picture over, he
x _a • i ^ i y _ i a•_ _ ■». _ 1 tvanH nlmin frnm tnP nnf»lr 44 4 I n np r»nm<nrl in ml
determined to demand an explanation, but the
boy, without even looking back to see who his I
read aloud from the back, ‘“To be copied in oil.
The copy to be forwarded to Dr. Le Roy, care
YY T e give it a hearty welcome and commend it \ As to these two questions we beg leave to disa-
to our friends as worthy of their support. No j gree with you, but in regard to the others, our
excuse now for sending your three dollars to
New York for the Ledger, for right here in Geor-
captor was, dropped the bag, and with a howl of James, Kendrick, 1300 YYalnut street, Pliiladel- gja we have a paper fully its equal in typographi
mingled terror and disappointment broke from
the feeble grasp and fled.
“Rather an awkward position for us, Lora, if
any one should chance to recognize this hand- |
some satchel,” said the gentleman, picking it up,
and turning to his daughter.
“It would be embarrassing, but it is not likely i
that such a thing will happen,” she replied.
“Can you not walk a little faster, father? YY T e j
are nearly home.”
They turned up Vine street as she spoke, and
crossing Third, entered a neat little court that j
lay between Third and Fourth streets. The little
court was filled with neat two-story buildings, .
and looked more like a quiet street in some j
modest town than a tiny court in the heart of a
great city. There was no outlet to this court
save the one giving egress on Y'ine street; at its !
other extremity, a large, old-fashioned house of
red brick occupied the full width of “The Place,” i
as it was called by its inhabitants. The street ;
was not paved here, and the few vehicles that
entered, such as the milk-man or fruit-seller,
were almost unheard. At one time the whole
of this court had belonged to one man, who
j lived in the brick house, and rented the small
\ tenements to such persons as he chose. The old :
| man died, and his son, storing his heavy old
! furniture in one part of the house, rented out
j the balance, and went away. Into this house
the old gentleman we have been following dis-
appeared. YVe will still follow, as is our privi-
! lege. They had three small rooms up-stairs; j
; the lower floor was occupied by two maiden
j sisters, artificial flower-makers. One of these
| ladies, bearing a lamp in her hand, came hastily
from her room as she heard the front door close,
and cordially saluted the new-comers.
“Back again, Mr. Drurie? Miss Lora, I am
delighted to have you here again. YVhy, you are
1 wet! I didn't know it was raining. Come right
into my room; we have a nice fire there ! Come
in !”
She threw the door open, and as the pleasant
fire-light streamed out into the cold, dark entry,
| the temptation grew too strong to be resisted;
they entered. The other sister rose at their en
trance, and shaking hands with the gentleman,
hastened to remove the dripping cloak and hat
from the person of his daughter.
“YVell, Miss Lora, what news? Don’t think
me impertinent, dear; you know what an interest
I feel in all that concerns you,” said the sister
who met them when they first came in.
“Do, Bessie, don’t be in such a hurry; let
j Miss Lora rest and have a cup of tea before you
question her,” said the other sister, placing a
small tea-kettle over the fire, and cutting some
slices of bread to toast.
phia.'
“ Dr. Le Roy, Lora; here is his name and ad
dress. Put the things up; I will take them to
him in the morning—and write a little note,
Lora, to explain how we got them, for I will re
turn his shawl at the same time.”
He placed the picture in her hand, kissed her
! good-night, and taking up a tiny bit of candle,
left the room. As soon as she was alone, Lora
drew the lamp nearer and earnestly examined
the pictured face. She saw a broad, white, high
brow, softly shaded by close-curling, dark-brown
hair; blue eyes, clear, honest, kind—true indexes
of the noble heart that had prompted him to
place his valuable shawl upon the shoulders of
a feeble stranger. The finely-cut, sensitive lips,
shaded by a brown mustache, and the innocent,
trusting eyes formed a strange contrast to the
firm, square chin. No foolish weakness in this
man; a disposition to trust others, and perhaps
weep the trust betrayed, but no vain weakness
whereby others would be made to suffer. Lora
took in every trifling detail of the picture—
marked the neat, narrow tie, the dainty button
hole bouquet, the tiny, plain, gold studs. The
picture was exquisitely painted and did full jus
tice to Dr. Le Roy. She had perhaps seen more
regularly handsome faces than this one, but
never before one that so appealed to the deepest i
feelings of her heart, But a few years ago, when
she too had wealth at her command, many suit
ors had knelt before her, but not one of them
had been permitted to touch her hand. She
had been called cold and proud, but was only
pure. Even now she might change her dreary
home for one of comfort and luxury, but she was
not one of those who are willing to perjure them
selves at the altar for a purse of gold. And
while she is lost in reverie over a picture, let us
look at her. Have you, oh ! reader, pictured to
yourself a heroine of romance beautiful beyond
compare? Undeceive yourself; she is not a
beauty; yet look at her and tell me if she is not
pleasant to the eye. Her dress is of plain black
alpaca, but it fits her perfect form neatly. She .
wears a collar worked by her own fingers, and,
strange guest in such an apartment, a handsome
diamond ring. Her skin is very fair, soft, and
would be rosy if she were not so harrassed by
daily cares. Her chin is softly rounded: her
lips firm, yet bearing a gentle, sweet expression;
her eye-brows and lashes are black, heaTy and
straight; her hair auburn, long, abundant and
beautiful; her eyes—ah ! we have reached her
eyes. Draw upon your imagination for their
likeness—I have not words wherewith to de
scribe them; yet will I try, and if I am incohe
rent, pardon me, for they are indeed bewildering.
They are large, dark-brown, lovely in shape and
cal execution, and filled with matter that cannot
fail to interest the general Southern reader.
sentiments exactly coincide with yours. YVe
think it perfectly right to kiss a gentleman. As
to writing to unknown parties, we say yes, write
to any fellow, for there’s nothing like fun. Now,
allow us to propound a question. Do you think
Considering the fact of so many thousands of j this a scandalous step in writing the above ? If
dollars being sent to the North for similar pub
lications, it would be a reproach to the South
should this enterprise not be liberally sustained.
Early County News.
A first number is never perfect, although this
one is almost so in typography. The illustra
tions are quite good, indeed—the picture of
General Lee being especially life-like and natu
ral. Mrs. Mary E. Bryan, a Southern authoress—
known, read and admired by the whole country—
is the paper’s literary editor, and her department
shows evidences of the handiwork of a hand
that has woven into the web and woof of Ameri
can poetry and prose some of its rarest things.
The “Domestic Department ” is in the charge of
Mrs. A. P. Hill, who makes it as attractive as a
bill-of-fare at a marriage feast. Altogether, the
paper begins its career most auspiciously. YVe
believe the South will sustain it.—St. Louis Dis
patch.
It is a very handsome sheet—one of the most
attractive in general appearance we have ever
seen. It will be devoted to literature, romance,
science, education, temperance and Southern
progress, and will also be illustrated. The * La
dies’ Department ’ will be under the charge of
Mrs. Mary E. Bryan, assisted by Mrs. J. R.
Sneed, and the ‘Domestic Department’ under
that of YIrs. A. P. Hill, author of the famous
and almost invaluable Cook-Book. It would
seem that with such assistance Mr. Seals should
make his venture entirely successful. That it
will be, with the patronage our people ought to i
give it, we have no doubt. YY'e heartily wish
this for it, and trust soon to see it so firmly es
tablished as to place its future beyond perad-
venture.— Telegraph and Messenger.
The proprietor, Mr. J. H. Seals, deserves the
gratitude and patronage of every well-wisher of
Southern enterprise. The Sunny South should
have a circulation of at least one hundred thou
sand south of Mason and Dixon’s line. It is the
burning focus of Southern talent and mechan-
so, please advise us plainly, as we are two rol
licking girls, and diligent readers and impa
tient admirers of your charming paper.” . . .
YVe are not surprised at your differing with us
on these two points, for the girls are said to be
fond of kissing the boys, and we fear The Sunny
South will not be able to break up the habit.
“ A girl convinced against her will,
Is often of the same opinion still.”
Especially is this true in regard to sweethearts
and kissing. This weakness seems to be
peculiar to the sex, and they never get over it,
for we hear of the old woman kissing the cow.
Having nothing else to kiss, we see that they
will buss the cattle, pussy-cats and poodles. YY'e
do not think it “scandalous ” in you to express
your mind on these points, for girls who are so
fond of fun and kissing as you seem to be, could
not be easily scandalized.
C. YV. D. (Georgia) says: “I have particu
larly noticed that your advice to correspond
ents is very instructive; I, therefore, like many
others, come to you for advice. I am a youth of
eighteen summers, and have fallen in love now
for my first time. The object of my affection is
one of the most beautiful and accomplished
young ladies it has ever been my good fortune
to meet. I am not trying to carry on a flirtation
with her, but am really dead in love. She is a
great favorite with the young men; is beloved by
all who know her. I have at least, to my actual
knowledge, a dozen rivals. She is, I think, veiy
much in love with a young gentleman of this
place—has been so for a good while. I am not
certain yet that she really likes me; don t think
that she dislikes me. • If I should tell her that
I was verv much fascinated with her, don t know
whether I should receive a favorable answer. I
am in a dilemma. How would you act if you
were exactly in my circumstances?” • • • I
should dislike very much to be “ exactly in your
circumstances.” to love a girl and know that
she loves another fellow, is certainly bad. But
ical skill. It is superior to anv similar enter- the proper course tor you is to keep cool • con
ted outside of the trreat North- trol your passion and abide your.time. _ >e ' el
prise ever attempted outside of the great North
ern cities. The paper and print are equal in
quality and finish to the best book-work. It will
exhibit, in its illustrations, the noblest speci
mens and paragons of Southern manhood and
character—to emulate and foster the aspirations
of our noble young men of the South to magna
nimity of soul and the achievements of renown.
Success to our Sunny South. May its shield be
invincible, and its mission victory unto con
quest.— 1 he Evangelist.
passion
precipitate matters under such circumstances.
Let her know nothing of your love until you
have shown her and the world, by habits of in
dustry, sobriety and economy, that you are
worthy of her love and hand. M hen you are
“exactly in these circumstances” she will be
slow to refuse you, and if she does, you may
congratulate yourself, for girls who are such
belles and admired by so many usually become
badly spoiled.