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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.