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[For The Sunny South.J
TOO LATE!
BY MARY PATTON HUDSON.
“ As a wild hedge-rose,*’ he called me fair,
By the old turn-stile, as we lingered there,
And said our fond adieu.
The scent of the flowers and the new-mown hay
Tame to us softly from over the way.
And mingled with our farewell.
A simple lad, with his trusting heart,
Said gently, “I’ll give you, ere we part,
A pledge of our loving troth.”
When the moonlight slept on the oaken floor,
And the scent of flowers came in thro’ the door,
My pillow was wet with tears;
And I clasped my ring, as a treasure-trove.
The magiral symbol of our young love.
Through the sweetest of maiden dreams.
But a diamond gleamed where the opal burned,
Before the verdure of earth had turned
To sombre autumn aye.
The lord of my life is a miser cold,
Uouutiug his thousands of silver and gold,
While worse than a beggar am 1.
That little cot in the far-off hills,
With the murmuring sound of brooks and rills,
Is the home of my heart for aye.
The rain on the roof of that little cot,
To hear once more, this gilded lot
I fain would give away.
Like a “wild hedge-rose,” no longer uow
Do the blushes come to my pallid brow.
That erst was furrow-free.
A woman too old for the wane of years,
With passionate yearnings and bitter tears.
In the flre-light sits alone.
For that little ring on my haud once more,
With the happy dreams that my spirit wore.
I’d give all the years to come.
In vain do I yearn for the vanished joy
At the old turn-stile, with the blue-eyed boy,
My guileless maiden love.
In the ember light, my wedded hand
Is holding still that simple baud,
The pledge of that happy time.
The scent of the flowers and the new-moon hay
Floats softly by from over the way,
And the cry of the bird I hear.
At the old turn-stile, in the evening light.
The moonshiue falls so clear and bright,
And I am far away.
Alas ! for the years that have drifted aloug!
The phantoms repeat, iu their dolorous song,
Alas! for the years to come!
[For The Sunny South.]
M YR A DODSON
BY CONSTANCE MARION.
“ Who the mischief <7rc'’these Dodsons, any
way ?” asked cousin Charley, as he tossed aside
a letter I had given him to read.
‘•They are people, or rather the descendants
of people,” replied I, “who did grandfather a
service many ages ago. What that service was,
I never could clearly understand. All I know
is that we have been considering ourselves under
obligations to the Dodsons ever since, and have
them to stay with us evc-ry time they come to
town. It lias been several years since we were
last invaded by—I mean since we had a visit
from them, and I think you were in Europe at
that time.”
“ What kind of people are they?” asked Char
ley.
•• Doesn’t the name tell its own story V” asked I.
“ That sigh of yours is ominous,” said Char
ley. “Send word to these Dodsons that the
small-pox is in town, and that you are justabout
to run away from it; and then you can join our
excursion party with a clear conscience. Lou
told me that I need not come home again unless
I brought your consent to go with us.”
My only reply to this was a despairing shake
of the head. 1 did not trust myself to speak, for
I was too near crying.
At this instant, mother entered the room, and
Charley turned to her.
•Aunt Cornelia,” said he, “Charlotte tells me
there is a domestic affliction in store for you.”
“ Wlmt do you mean?” asked mother in alarm,
looking at me.
•• He is alluding to the Dodson visitation—visit
I mean,” said I, “and wishes me to throw the
girls over, and go with him and Lou to Flat
Hock: but I tell him it can’t be done.”
“I don’t know." said mother, musingly. “Of
course I shall miss you very much, but then I
might get Kate Andrews to stay here and take
care of Jane and Myra. 1 should dislike for the
girls to feel themselves neglected, but ”
“‘But me no buts!’” exclaimed I. hysteric
ally. “Of course, I wouldn’t think of going
away with those people coming. Charley, tell
Lou I am dreadfully sorry, but I must decline
her invitation.”
Charley went away grumbling at what he was
pleased to call my obstinacy, but what I consid
ered my self-iumiolation on the altar of hospi
tality. And after he was gone, I went up-stairs
and took a good cry. Charley LeConte was a far
away cousin of mine—a little less than kin and
more than kind, as our neighbors said; and in
fact, he did pay me more attention than mere re
lationship demanded. He was considered the
beau pur excellence of our community, for he had
been educated in Europe, spoke French and
fierman (for anything ice knew) just like the na
tives, danced like an angel, and had eyes- that
were simply killing. A sojourn with him and
Lou in the romantic wilds around Flat Rock was
something delightful to contemplate—a species
of elysiuui too perfect to be allotted to erring
human like myself.
Well, in due time the Dodsons came,—two
large-sized country girls with two large-sized
trunks. My heart sank within me at the omi
nous proportions of the latter, and my forebod
ings were fulfilled, for the Dodsons stayed with
us six long, weary weeks. I did what I could
for them,—carried them to see our diminutive
lions, underwent many rounds of shopping with
them, introduced them to everybody, and tried
to renovate their general appearance. In this
last particular. I found Myra somewhat amena
ble to reason, but Jane was hopelessly obsolete.
She remained under the delusion that her five-
vear old hat was a perfect love, and her whitey-
brown mantilla the very thing. In spite of a
snub nose and half a million freckles, Myra
passed for pretty.’ The ladies of our circle lifted
their hands and opened their eyes at her atro
cious grammar and loud dresses; but somehow
she managed to make gentlemen admire her.
and it was not long before she had quite a num
ber of attendant swains. One susceptible youth
had been caught iu the very act of asking her to
share his lot. and a large lot it was too. and sit
uated in the most desirable part of the town.
However. I didn’t care how much she was ad
mired. for when I asked Charley what he thought
of her, he executed a French shrug and replied:
“ Rayther rustic.”
I should have said before that Charley did uot
accompany Lou to Flat Rock. He said unex
pected business detained him in town, but I
thought that business was only a “ figger
speech.” He was very shy of us for a week or
two after our visitors came, but after a while he
relapsed into his old habit of coming every even
ing, although the Dodsons said he was not the
man for them, with his stuck-up airs and foreign
palaver. He was Charlotte’s beau — none of
theirs. Ah ! Charley—Charley of the olden time,
I mean— your visits, though neither few nor far
. between, were truly like those of angels’ to me
then. Those evening tete-a-tetes, I verily believe,
were all that supported me during that dreadful
visitation. But all that’s bright must fade—the
brightest still the fleetest. One afternoon, on
going into the parlor, I was very much surprised
to find Charley holding a skein of silk for Myra
to wind. That young lady had got the silk all
into a tangle, and was jerking and pouting at a
great rate, at the same time coquetting in a style
that was truly refreshing to contemplate.
“Myra,” said I, “you had better be getting
ready for your drive with Mr. Thompson. Re
member, he is to be here at five o’clock.”
“Oh! that tiresome George Thompson!” ex
claimed Myra; “I believe I shall put him off,
for I have such a tormenting headache I can
hardly see.”
“A drive in the fresh air might do you good,”
suggested I, kindly.
“But then, I’m so busy with this provoking
silk,” persisted Myra. “I wanted to hem my
green vail, and although Mr. Charley has been
holding it for me just as nice as possible, I have
got it all messed up. ”
“Mr. Charley !” thought I, hut I only said:
“You would never untangle that silk, Myra,
if you’ were to work at it the remainder of your
natural life. I have some just like it in my
work-box which you are perfectly welcome to,
so you had better throw that aside.”
“Never in the world !” exclaimed Myra; “I
am going to keep it forever and ever to remind
me of somebody’s goodness and kindness;" and
here she made eyes at Mr. Leconte.
“ • When this you see,
Remember me,’ ”
observed that gentleman, apparently in a state
of extreme delight.
“The color will be suggestive,” said I, for I
did not admire these goings on. “Myra, I hear
the door-bell; Itliink Mr. Thompson has come.”
“Do you think I really ought to go?” asked
she. “ That George Thompson is such a despis-
able creature!”
“ Why, I thought you said once he was a real
nice, scrumptious beau.”
“Oh ! that was a month ago. Remember, peo
ple get tired of other people sometimes.”
“There is no danger of my forgetting that,”
said I, wearily.
“Give me my silk, if I must go,” said Myra,
removing the skein from Charley’s hands with
her own rather large fingers, and then with one
parthian glance at her whilome cis-a-ris, she
tripped from the room.
“How naive and refreshing she is !” observed
! Mr. Le Conte.
“‘Rayther rustic,’” quoted I, imitating the
French shrug.
“ How envious you are ! You must be agreea
bly disappointed in your visitors, after grum
bling so at the prospect of their coming.”
“ / grumble at the prospect! Oh ! Charley, it
was you that grumbled. I was as meek as a
lamb.”
I “And have had your reward in entertaining
angels unawares.”
“ I-hope you don’t call the Dodson girls an
gels r
“Well, I don’t know much about orthodox an
gels, but your friend Myra is rather suggestive
of one of Byron’s dark-eved houris.”
My friend Myra suggestive of an houri! That
was a pleasant speech to listen to from one who
professed to be an admirer of mine. Fortunately,
Mr. LeConte’s next remark was of a soothing na
ture.
“Come and play II Trovatore forme. Yon are
the only girl in town whose music is worth lis
tening to, and now that both those women are
out, we won’t be disturbed by their clattering.”
I plaved II Trovatore and Don Giovanni and
many another pot-pourri that evening: and when
it was too dark to see the keys, I let my hands
fall in my lap, and lingered on the piano stool,
talking to Charley, or rather listening to him
talk, for he was in an oratorical mood that even- ,
ing, and discoursed on poetry and sentiment,
and that detestable lady-killer, Festus, and made
himself generally agreeable. He had informed
me that our souls were congenial, that I was the
only human being that could understand him,
and was proceeding to say, dear knows what,
when the door burst open and Jane Dodson en
tered. I wished that young lady a great deal
farther oft’ than the antipodes, but not being
privileged to tell her so, I merely asked her to ;
take a seat.
“Oh, dear, no !” exclaimed she. “I’ve got to
go up-stairs and fix my hair. I’ve been out shop
ping. and got it all messed up. I only stopped j
in here to ask if Myra had come.”
•• Who wants Myra?” asked a voice just out
side the door, and the young lady in question
entered. The lamps had been lighted by this
time, and as she stood in the door, I could not
help thinking-that Mr. Le Conte’s comparison
of Myra to an houri was not altogether ridicu
lous. She was wearing a pink barege, which was
very becoming to her healthy style of comeliness,
and over her head was thrown a large mantilla,
which completely enveloped her in its folds of
silken lace. She had a wealth, or at least a com
petency of raven hair, which she wore in heavy
ringlets, and her eyes were as black as mid
night.
“Why, wnere did you spring from so sud
den ?” inquired Jane.
“You nearly run over me in the dark just
now," returned Myra, “when I was stooping
down picking up my flowers thafcGeorge Thomp
son give me. The string bursted loose just as I
got in the house, and the bokay was just scat
tered around generally. I was ever so long get
ting it together again.”
While she was speaking. Myra glanced toward
Charley and me, and there was a mischievous
twinkle in her eyes that led me to believe she
bad overheard some things that were not in
tended for her ears. The same thoughts seemed
to occur to Mr. Le Conte, for he rose suddenly,
bowed his wdieux, and was gone before we could
ask him to stay.
“ Well. Myra, what did George Thompson
say ?” asked Jane.
••Oh ! he talked a lot of nonsense, just like all
the rest of them," replied Myra. "I am getting
sick and tired of it. and I wish I was married
and forgot about.”
“You irill be married.” began Jane, but Myra
interrupted her.
"You just hush your mouth !” said she. “It
ain’t nobody’s business but my own when I will
be married. Let’s go up-stairs and primp. I
guess there will be some boys around here after
tea."
While my guests were up-stairs primping. I
seated myself by a western window, and looked
out on the sky where one red cloud was still lin
gering above the sunset. A few pioneer stars
were gleaming faintly around the new moon,
and a soft southern wind came in from the
neighboring woods, laden with the perfume of
myriads of bay flowers and wild jessamines.
While I lingered at the window, I indulged in a
long, silly, school-girlish, delightful revery, in
which memories of the past mingled with dreams
of an impossible future, and for one half hour of
her life, one of the dwellers of this “ walley of
the shadder” was perfectly and superhumanly
happy. It was love's young dream: and can
any of the pleasures of after-life compare with
that blissful consciousness, or perhaps delusion,
of loving and being beloved ? My life at pres
ent is an easy, comfortable one, and I suppose I
am as happy as the generality of people; but
• Give me back, give me back, the wild freshness of
morniDg.—
Its clouds and its tears are worth evening's best light.”
All dreams must come to an end, and mine
was broken in upon by the entrance of Jane and
Myra. Some callers were announced soon after
ward. and I arose, closed the shutters, and re
turned to real life again.
“La, Charlotte! where did you get them beau
tiful flowers?” exclaimed Jane Dodson the next
morning as I passed through the hall with a
great bouquet of “glories of France.” I was
about to reply that they had been sent me by
Mr. Le Conte, when she interrupted me by say
ing:
“ You needn’t blush so, child. When you
have a beau setting up to you all the evening, it
is very natural to git a bokay from him next
day.”
“Charley was getting mighty sweet, wasn’t he,
by the time me .and Jane come in on yon last
night?" asked Myra. “If we had been live min
utes later, I believe the question would have
been popped.”
“Charley and Charlotte,” said Jane. “Don’t
1 the names go nice together?”
“Splendid,” returned Myra; “but la me! I
wouldn't blush so—not for nothing.”
“Her face is as red as them roses,” observed
Jane.
“Charley is the man,” said Myra.
“Don’t run away from us," said Jane; “stay
here and let’s talk about the wedding.”
But muttering something about putting my
! roses in water, I made a hasty exit, for 1 had
heard enough,
That soiree musicale was the first of a series,
and Mr. Le Conte and myself generally had the
parlor to ourselves on such occasions, for the
Dodsons hated music, and were in the habit of
making an unceremonious exit about the middle
of my first piece. However, we did not miss
them, at least / did not, and I never listen now
to “Ask me not why,” or “Robert, toi que j’aime,”
without thinking of those twilight tete-a-tetes,
which, taken all together, compose for me the
greenest spot of memory’s waste. But it is of
no use now to dwell on that pleasant, foolish,
unreal time. Some modern author says that
"reminiscence is less an endowment than a dis
ease;” for the good of my health, then, I shall
let bygones be bygones, and speed my story to
its close.
Mr. Le Conte had invited me to take a drive
with him on a certain afternoon, but when that
' afternoon came, I was laid up with a splitting
headache, and could not fulfill the engagement.
After receiving my excuses, I naturally supposed
that Mr. Le Conte would go home again; but no
such thing. He only invited Miss Myra Dodson
to take my place, which she did, first coming
in my room with great fuss and commotion to
kiss me good-by, although she knew how I hated
to be bothered when my head was aching. I
languidly submitted to the kiss, but did not
pretend to return it, being entirely too weak and
sick to play Judas.
The two pleasure-seekers drove off (I could
see them from my window) while I tossed to
and fro upon my conch, feeling like Guatimo-
zen, or whoever it was, that was stretched on a
bed of live coals. Truly, they had no business
to be enjoying themselves while I was in such
agony, and Myra’s exuberance of spirits intensi
fied my headache to such an extent as to make
me almost long for a dose of guillotine. About
dusk, Jane Dodson walked into the room.
“ How is your head ?” asked she.
“No better,” replied I. “Has Myra come
yet ?”
“No, she ain’t come yet, and I don't know
what to make of it. I shouldn’t wonder if they
hadn’t broke down somewhere, for I reckon Mr.
Le Conte ain’t no great shakes of a driver.”
“ Oh ! Charley drives well enough,” said I.
“Well, I suppose you ought to know,” re
turned Jane, “but I wish he would fetch Myra
along. If she stays out so late of nights, she
will be catching chills and fever, and then she
will pay dear for her larks.”
But bedtime came, and still no Myra. Mother
was for sending out to look for her, but Jane ad
vised against it.
“I heard Myra say,” observed she, “that she
was going to make Mr. Le Conte take lier round
to see Mollie Thompson, and I reckon Mollie
made her stay all night. The two girls has been
as thick as hops ever since George has been beau-
ing around Myra.”
“But surely Myra would send us word,” said
mother. “.She might know we would be uneasy
about her.”
“Oh, la! don’t you know Myra well enough
to know that she never thinks about nobody but
herself?” returned Jane. “She wouldn’t care
if none of us got a wink of sleep to-night for
thinking her neck might be broke.”
Being thus reassured, mother gave herself no
farther concern about the matter, for she had by
this time become sufficiently acquainted with
Myra to know that there was something really
sublime about that young lady’s complete and
unmitigated selfishness. The household, there
fore, retired to rest, and we were all soon wrap
ped in slumber; even I, with the aid of half a
grain of morphine, was enabled to forget my
troublesome head during the remaining hours
of darkness.
The next morning, Mr. Le Conte and Myra
did not make their appearance, and after it was
about half gone, even Jane began to grow un
easy, and to express her fears that something
bad had happened to them people. Messengers
were sent out in various directions, but came
home without any tidings of the missing ones.
At length, a note was bronglit to Jane, written
by her sister and signed, “ Yours affectionately,
Myra Le Conte.” The epistle was short, but
very much to the point. Myra and Mr. Le
Conte were actually united in the holy bonds of
matrimony just as much as it was in the power
of magistrate to join them, and were now rusti
cating at a suburban boarding-bouse. Myra
wrote to order her sister to go home immedi
ately and make her peace with the old folks.
“I know they will be mad fit to kill themselves,”
so the letter said, "at my throwing over old Mr.
Higgins: but after seeing my Charley, there ;
would be no use talking to me of any other man.
Me and him was only engaged a week—a mighty
short time, but Charley wouldn't hear to waiting
any longer. You may be sure I never told him
nothing about me and Mr. Higgins.”
“Well, I never!” exclaimed Jane. “I always
thought Myra was the deceitfulest girl in crea
tion, and now I know it. She was to have been
married next month to Mr. Higgins, the richest
man in our neighborhood, and the nicest, too,
if he is sorter old and deaf; and now she has
gone and run away with that jackanapes. My
sakes ! won’t there be a row at home! I’ll de
clare. I didn’t expect it of Myra !”
I did not expect it of Charley, but I said noth
ing about the matter except to mildly echo moth
er’s and Jane's exclamations. The thing was
done, and there was no help for it, and all that
was left to me was to show how very indifferent
I was about it. So I laughed, and danced, and
flirted, and made a goose of myself generally.
Nine-tenths of the women of my acquaintance
will know exactly what I did, for they have had
occasion to do it themselves. At first, people
used to stare at me when Mr. Le Conte’s name
was mentioned; but I had given up the habit of
blushing since that gentleman had married, and
on such occasions, my countenance would ex
press only a languid interest in the subject.
Jane Dodson went home, and with more good
nature than I had expected of her, talked the
old people into a reconciliation with Mr. and
Mrs. Le Conte, and then (but that I expected)
consoled old Mr. Higgins by marrying him her
self. Mr. Dodson gave his son-in-law a place
adjoining his own. and since then, the elegant
Charley Le Conte has subsided into a country
farmer, growing redder in face and stouter in
figure every year, and becoming very knowing
in the matter of imported cattle and short-staple
cotton. That to me has been the most unkindest
cut of all. If he had been discontented and un
happy in his misguided marriage, I should have
felt a kind of soothing sorrow on his account;
but I must confess there is nothing consoling in
his being so well satisfied. He never comes to
our house, on account of an unpleasantness be
tween my husband and himself, arising from
the former having been engaged in some legal
proceedings against old Mr. Dodson: but I met
him the other evening at his sister's, and a worse
fitting coat or a rustier pair of boots I never saw
on any one claiming to be a gentleman. I asked
about Mrs. Le Conte, and was informed that
“Myra was as fat as a buck and as lively as a
cricket.”
Of course, I wasn't going to remain a spinster,
so in due time I too entered into the holy estate.
Mine was not a runaway match, but a really or
thodox affair of tulle and white silk, bridemaids,-
wedding-presents, and all that sort of thing.
My husband is a good, kind, well-to-do man,
who gives me everything I ask for, and people
say he wastes a great deal of genuine affection
on a self-absorbed, cold-hearted woman. But
when I hear of such remarks being made, some
lines from an old poem come into my mind:
“ Yet blame us women not, if some appear
Too cold at times, and some too gay and light;
Some griefs gnaw deep, some woes are bard to bear:
Wbo knows tbe past, and who can judge us right?”
ITEMS OF INTEREST.
Vermont has a tig tree full of fruit. It grows
in a cellar.
Brooklyn handles fifty million dollars worth
of sugar in a year.
Six men were hung at Fort Smith, Arkansas,
at one time a few days since.
The two dailies in Nashville have consolidated
under the name of the American.
The International Sunday School Lesson Com
mittee met in Chicago on the first.
The friends of Edward S. Stokes have sent a
petition for his pardon to the Governor.
Joseph Sooy, the Treasurer of New Jersey, has
been arrested for embezzling $50,000.
The Confederate soldiers in Kentucky are ar
ranging to have a grand reunion shortly.
The old publishing house of Lee A Shepard,
Boston, has failed. Liabilities, $500,000.
In London, there is on exhibition a little
Dutchman six inches shorter than General Tom
Thumb.
St. Louis, with her population of 400,000 souls,
is about to open a dirept trade with Brazil by a
line of steamers.
It is estimated that over $2,000,000 worth of
property has been stolen from Texas by the Mex
ican robbers on the Rio Grande.
The telegrams from Bombay say the heavy
rains in the barrack district necessitates the re
planting of large parts of the cotton crop.
No Spanish maiden, however poor or however
low her rank, can walk alone in the street even
for a few paces. If she does so, her character is
gone. •
A plucky woman of Hood county, Texas, Mrs.
Mattie Woods, with the aid of a little negro,
raised four hundred bushels of corn and four
bales of cotton.
The last crop of oranges in Louisiana amounted
to 16,250,000, and sold for $810,000 on the trees,
being at the rate of ten dollars a thousand, the
buyer to do the picking.
Nashville, Tennessee, papers say the wheat
crop excels that of any year previous. The ag
gregate receipts to date are 400,000 bushels, ;
worth in round numbers $500,000.
Major Edwards, of the St. Louis Times, and
Colonel Foster, of the Journal, exchanged harm
less shots in Illinois. The trouble originated
about the Jeff. Davis-Winnebago affair.
Beresford Hope, M. P., has forwarded to ex-
President Jefferson Davis a number of photo
graphs of Foley’s statue of Stonewall Jackson,
j The statue is shortly to be placed in tbe park at
Richmond, Va.
Madame MacMahon gave a fete Sunday in the
Tuileries Garden, at Paris, for the benefit of the
sufferers by the recent floods in France. She
has received heretofore 17,000,0ft francs for this
charitable purpose.
The Theological School at St. Lawrence Uni-
vesity, Canton, New York, admits and graduates
lady candidates for the ministry, A post gradu
ate course was recently published, of which two
availed themselves during the past year, receiv
ing at the end of a four years’ course the degree
of B.D.
The United States Government, assuming that
it will become owner of Hot Spring property,
in Arkansas, by reason of the decisions rendered
by tbe .Court of Claims in August, has appointed
agents to prevent tbe further cutting of timber
or quarrying stone on the reservation. The
stone is a superior quality, and is shipped to
Europe in large quantities.
The Planters’ National Bank, in Louisville,
Kentucky, was recently robbed by the teller,
Louis Rehm, Jr. He cut a few gashes on his
person, and smearing the blood over himself,
rushed to the police station and declared he had
been gagged and forced to the bank by robbers.
His story did not stand inspection. He con
fessed his guilt, and now occupies quarters in
the jail.
[For The Sunny South.]
KEEP YOUR TEMPER,
BY H. E.. SHIPLEY.
Though good nature is not classed among the
virtues, it certainly is the nurse of them all,
just as sunshine and shower, though neither the
fruit nor flower, is the life of both. Is good na
ture the stoical bearing of a great trouble? Is
it the marching with fortitude to the stake where
we give our bodies to be burned literally or met
aphorically? Truly it is not. But what is more
to the point, especially in these days which try
womens’ souls as those of the revolution tried ,
men’s, it is tb it unruffled, smiling state of mind
which pervades our daily life and enables one to
trip cheerfully over the thorns which beset our
matrimonial path in the shape of crying chil
dren, cross husbands and idle servants. It is
not the broad rush of trouble that wears away
the rock of one’s endurance. It is the ceaseless
drip, drip, of petty annoyances and spoiled pud
ding of to-day —the broken article of rertu of yes
terday—the ever-recurring frets which rise as
surely each day upon onr domestic horizon as
the sun does upon the physical; and the cloud,
at first “no bigger than a man’s han«l,'’too often
swells into a tempest of tears and reproaches,
simply because we forget that “he who ruleth
his spirit is greater than he who taketh a city.”
“ My dear madam,” says a dissenter,” “you
preach—do you practice ? Wh’en some one steps
on your pet com, or Jane Maria seizes your best
gown .with syrup-embossed fingers, or Mr. S.
loftily informs you that you never in your life
sewed on a button securely, do } - ou preserve that
serenity of temper you advocate ?”
My dear demurrer, we are none of us perfect.
I tell you as tbe good mothers told us years ago:
“Don’t do as I do—do as I tell you.”
TEMPERANCE.
[For Tlie Sunny South.]
LET VIRTUE BE THY HIGHEST AIM.
BY GLADITS.
What is honor ? What is fame ?
What is life without an aim ?
Blank, with all its beauty marred.
While we stand from fame debarred.
What debars the mind and soul
But the life that we control—
Steeped in whisky, cursed drink—
Brought to ruin, ruin’s brink?
Peace has her bauuer unfurled,
Christianizing all the world ;
Dedicating temples now,
While earth’s millions take the vow;
Teaching kingdoms how to pray,
“Nations born within a day,”
Usher in millenium!
God commands—we should obey,
Living sober every day;
Thinking, acting, aiming high;
Living holy till we die.
Fame and honor then will crown
All the sober that set down—
Freed from sorrow, drunkard's woes—
In the Eden of repose!
—
Meeting of the Grand Lodge.
The seventh annual session of the Grand
Lodge of the Independent Order of Good Tem
plars of Georgia will convene at Gainesville on
Wednesday, the 29tli instant. In a conversation
with G. W. C. T. Thrower and G. W. S. Robin
son, through whose influence and labors the
Order has attained great strength and influence
in this State, we learn that extensive prepara
tions are being made to receive and entertain
this important body—representatives of some
three hundred lodges in the State. The reports
of the grand officers will be of great interest to
the Order at large, showing a progress and pros
perity unprecedented. The report of the Grand
Worthy Chief Templar will show the Order free
from debt, with an increase of sixty lodges over
last year, and a total active membership of over
twenty thousand. —Atlanta Herald.
Elections Under the Local Option Act.
./. G. Thrower. Esq.:
Dear Sir.—In order to prevent much corres
pondence and consequent delay in the matter of
elections under the Act 26th February, 1875,
generally known as the “ Local Option Law,” it
would, perhaps, be better for you to communi
cate, in circular form, to the various temperance
lodges in the State, the following regulations, a
strict observance of which is held necessary by
the Executive Department:
1. As the law requires that such elections
“ shall be held in the manner, and under the
regulations prescribed by law for holding elec
tions for members of the General Assembly, the
returns made to the Secretary of State must
contain a tally sheet awl list of voters at such elec
tion, certified by the superintendents or mana
gers, together with the oath taken by said super
intendents or managers.
2. As the Act referred to confers extraordinary
powers, and requires the intervention of the
Executive in order to carry it into effect, the
Governor requires that, as a condition to issuing
his proclamation, he must he satisfied that afl
the provisions of the Act, especially those set
forth in the first, second, third and thirteenth
sections, have been faithfully complied with. It
is necessary, therefore, that the returns of the
election shall be accompanied by the written cer
tificate to that effect, under seal, if any, by the
Ordinary, Justices of the Peace, Mayor or In-
tendant, according as the election may have been
held for the county, militia district, or a city,
town, or village respective^.
I am, sir, very respectfully,
Y'our obedient servant,
J. R. Sneed.
Harmony in the Temperance Movement.
“ Behold how good and how pleasant it is for brethren
to dwell together in unity.”
We have done riiuch for the country at large
through our temperance lodges, and much more
remains to be done. Y’et I fear, instead of pro
gress in the future, we may retrograde. This
will certainly be the case unless a renewed spirit
of harmony prevails among us.
Now, is not onr cause of sufficient importance
to produce a spirit of harmony and love ade
quate for successful labor among us?
These thoughts result from evidences of dis
satisfaction. and I might almost add distrust,
observable in many of our lodges. No great and
common good can be effected without confidence
and unity of action. To have this, it will be
necessary to have general attendance upon onr
meetings and a Christian and brotherly spirit
prevailing.
Who among ns of either sex is not prepared to
harmonize as long as intemperance continues to
blight our households and mar the best features
of society ?
I saw, a few months since, a sweet, sad face.
It was that of a little girl, who held in her arms
a package far too large for one so small and del
icate to carry with convenience a distance of a
mile or more under the rays of a scorching sun.
I was attracted by her beauty, which was of most
delicate mould. The large, brown eyes, the
round, classical head, and more than all, the
care-worn, unhappy expression of the childish
face, told me her life was one of sorrow.
I ascertained during my short interview with
her that her mother had but recently come to
live in the city, and like many others, found it
a most difficult task to support herself and three
small children by taking in sewing.
“Is your father living?” I inquired.
She replied in the affirmative, and added:
“He does not help us any more. At one time,
my dear mother tells me that father was a kind
and loving man, and provided well for ns. The
loss of his property so discouraged him, that he
yielded to the temptation of drink, and is now
rarely ever sober.”
Woman as I am, I determined to see this
father, and plead with him in the presence of
his helpless family to go with me to the lodge
and pledge himself to a new life. My effort was
not in vain. This drunken parent has been
sober for weeks, and is now earning a support
for his cheerful and happy household.
This is only one case out of thousands in
almost every city of any magnitu le. Now, if I
can induce my fair sisters of every lodge in
Georgia—yea, of this wide land—to try and
bring into the folds of temperance only one vic
tim each, how many broken-hearted mothers
and unhappy little children will smile instead
of weep!
Is the cause aud results of success not worthy
of onr best and united efforts ? More depends
upon you, if we are to convert our countrymen
from the vice of dram-drinking, than you dream
of. Woman's influence always, in every age, has
been felt upon the morals of the races. How
much more under onr present civilization, with
ten-fold advantages for good !
I appeal to my own sex to exert themselves in
this matter by calling upon victims of intemper
ance, of high as well as low degree, and urge
upon them the great importance of this matter to
themselves, families, country, and prospective
generations. t eaxxie.