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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.