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3 [For The Sunny South.] SOXG. {TO M. A. M., OF MEMPHIS.) BT MARY J. MESSENGER. Merry as the rill of the mountain, Dancing anil gleaming along— Pure as the waters of the fountain, Purling to thy wild-wood song— As a ray over my lone life, gleaming Like the glitter of jewels so rare— Is the light of thy bright eyes beaming, Sweet Mollie Adaire. Fair as the lily in the morning, When her heart is quiv'ring with dew. The bright drops her beauty adorning With freshness and fragrance anew; Thus to my mind comes stealing A vision of beauty so fair, That my senses are tossing and reeling, Sweet Mollie Adaire. Like the great waves of the ocean, When the depth of its bosom is stirred, Throbs my heart with strange emotion Whenever thy dear name is heard. Shall it be like the sad sea's sobbing In its desolate, lone despair ? Thou alone can still its wild throbbing, Sweet Mollie Adaire. Memphis, Tennessee, October, 1875. [For The Sunny South.] TKIED IN THE CRUCIBLE. the pyramids of Egypt as to look for a woman in Paris ! You know that.” “Yes, I know it seems mere folly. Perhaps, after all, she does not liYe here, and may even now be miles away. Do you think she looked like a Parisian ?” “ Really, Will, I am not prepared to judge, for I did not observe her very closely. She looked a little Spanish, did she not?” “More Italian, I judge, from the large, dreamy eyes, creamy complexion and dark, wavy hair. By Jove, she was beautiful enough to have come from heaven !” he exclaimed, with a burst of enthusiasm. “Tken, suppose you get out a search-warrrnt for her^here!” irreverently replied his friend, with a laugh that did clear his companion’s moody brow. “Well, what is the programme Will—all jest ing aside—continue our tour, or remain here longer ?” “Continue our journey, I presume,” with a scarcely perceptible sigh. Vernon Wilmot was an orphan. He had lost that sweetest boon of life, parental love, in the early days of his childhood, but his uncle, wealthy and cultured, had given him all else that heart could desire. He had now his profession, and before putting his shoulder to the wheel of practice, sought first to see the world. No shad ow had fallen upon the bright disc of his man hood. Talented, truthful and chivalrous in na ture, he possessed also a physique cast in the mold of symmetry, and ripe with the vigor of per fect manhood. What more could be desired? And yet, that mysterious something within was not satisfied. Vernon Wilmot was beginning to is busy with some bitter reflection, or it might be some fruitless memory. Did there rise be fore her then a face that had followed her for so many months with those haunting eyes, whose intense gaze had bound her with a mag netic spell that was woven anew whenever she heard the thrilling music of Norma? The glory of sunset lay upon earth and sea as the carriage containing Colonel Wilmot and his bride entered the grand avenue of elms leading into the ornamented grounds of Wilmot Hall. Lucia for the first time gazed exultinglv upon her palatial home, feeling that it was for no [For The Sunny South.] WHAT CAN GIRLS DO ? And meanwhile she, as she leaned out into the night from her chamber window, as if to drink in the calm and holiness of the moonlight hour, was earnestly making the same vow to herself and bitterly acknowledging that the void and restless aching of heart was a deserved punish ment for the sin she had committed in marrying without love. Days went by. Col. Wilmot, proud of his brilliant nephew, gave entertainments in his i <j 0 ? j n this day when the business world is so honor, and gathered all the beauty and fashion j unsettled, when stocks and bonds have depre- of the neighborhood into his spacious parlors to 1 eiated, when property is of little value and taxa- pleasennd dazzle Vernon. But, though a model j ti 0 n so heavy that those in affluence once are meagre price she had sold herself Beyond the i of courtesy, the young man remained unmoved, ; now j n actual need, when our fathers and broth- light, marble balustrade that fringed the semi- | and the gallant Colonel rallied him upon his in- j ers it hard work to provide comfortably for circular terrace, bright with its banks of count- ! difference. their families, what can we do to help, we, the less flowers, the stone mansion rose with its ; “ I trust the Englishmen one meets on the * • * ’ massive tower and spreading wings, a home of continent have not infected you with the nil ad- beauty, an almost royal inheritance. ; mirari, Vernon,” he said, “or perhaps the tale Luciu sprang from the carriage and returned I your comrade de voyage, Mervin, told me about j with a sweet grace the deferential greeting of | you was truer than most of his stories, how you the slaves, who, in all save name, were as free | met a beautiful incognita at the opera in Paris, as their master. and fell madly in love with her beaux yeux and A young quadroon led the way to a suite of i followed their ‘ will-o'-the-wisp ’ brightness all rooms furnished with exquisite elegance. Ev- over Europe thereafter. Was it a true bill, my erything that the most fastidious taste could de- j boy ?” sire was there, from the pearl and gold-wrought ' Involuntarily, Vernon glanced at Lucia; their dressing-case to the tiny toilet slippers, which eyes met; he saw hers flash and drop, and a tide looked as though they might have been made j of color surge over neck and face. “She re- ; ] lere a j] the day idle?” for Titania’s self. --- * members !” was his instant thought. She, too, \f e rise up and summon our strength, and the Dismissing the servant, Lucia seated herself j felt that mysterious attraction. And immedi- j g rst thought that suggests itself in answer to our at the open window and looked with artistic ap- ately his resolve was taken. ! question is school-teaching. Poor womanhood, “ I thought you knew Mervin, sir, ’ he an- y on have need of your strength when yon take swered carelessly. “He will have his jest, if he : npon yonrself the wearying life of the teacher has to manufacture it out of whole cloth.” I cannot remember when first this question began to puzzle my mind. However, I have thought of it long and earnestly and have not yet found a satisfactory answer. What can "iris daughters of the land, whose hearts are willing, but who need to be directed to a way and a means of support. To many of us life is indeed a reality. We have ceased to look upon it through the rosy mists of girlhood, and although we may stiil build air-castles, and people them with bright forms of fancy, yet we know that there are many avenues opening upon the broad road of life, and at the entrance of each is written— work. We do not wish to sit with folded hands while some voice within us whispers softly, “ Why stand ye preciation upon the panoramic beauty spread out before her like a vista of fairy-land. Beyond the glistening green of a magnolia grove shim mered the restless, silver waters of the bay, over which the white-capped waves chased each other BY ALABAMA. CHAPTER L No sooner met but they looked; No sooner looked but they loved. Merchant of Venice. Brightly shone the gas-light through the heart of Paris—proud, imperial city—miniature world and colossal kaleidoscope of life, within whose marble palaces dwell gilded joy and painted misery, anil within whose hovels vice rears its hydra head and utters its threatening hiss. Paris, that is to-day bright with laughter and sunshine—to-morrow black with blood and wrath. There royal crowns go down to the dust at the mad cry of the mob dynasties; arise and sink by a power resistless and inscrutable. But not of all this would I write; not of Na poleon’s perilous greatness, or the splendor of i his starry-eyed Empress, imperial still, though discrowned, but of long years ago, when a Bour bon swayed the royal sceptre; of a night when the grand opera house was thronged with the beau monde to hear Bellini’s great master-piece, “Norma” — matchless conception of barbaric faith, man’s infidelity and woman's immolation. Phillip and his brilliant court were there, the haughty patrician and scarce less proud bourgeois trailing their velvet robes and glaring with gems, i The curtain hud just risen upon the first act, ; as a party of Americans entered a conspicuous I taste the lees within the wine of joy in a great ; ceaselessly. In impassioned delight at so much , yearning of the deeper feelings of his nature for j beauty, Lucia stretched out her white arms im- I some outlet of their pent-up intensity. With j pulsively, as if to take it all in her heart, and | the persistent energy of his disposition, he had ; then folded them over her bosom and lifted her i sought this face that had so strongly stirred the 1 eyes in silent thankfulness for the joy that was ; depths of his nature until the romaDtic infatua- j still hers. ! tion had become a morbid longing, a fever-dream 1 The wax lights were all a-glow when Lucia, at- ! of hope, that absorbed his being. tired in a light evening dress, met her husband The mist of morning still hung over drowsy j at the foot of the broad stairway, smiling radi- Paris as Wilmot and his friend left it en route for j antly as he put his arm around her and drew Italy, the home of art and the mother of song, her into the brilliant drawing-room. As he | They gazed upon the glories of Venice, whose ; stood a moment, gazing intensely into the fair, marble arms still hold in leash her lion heart. More than once, as they floated along the noise less, sparkling streets, Wilmot’s heart leaped with a quicker throb as he caught the starry gleam of an eye. or the faultless curve of an arm as they stole from beneath the silken cur tains of passing gondolas, but always to end in disappointment. And now, wearied with fruitless longing and sated with moonlit ocean, he turned to Flor ence, and wandered among its palaces, haunted by memories of Dante and his Beatrice. Still bearing his burden of unrest, he traveled next through vinelands to where “ The castled crag of Droehenfeld Frowns over the wide and winding Rhine,’’ where peaceful hamlets slept in the bosom of green valleys, and grand old castles crowned the mountain heights. Beyond the bright Mar- marian sea they watched the scarlet fur of the Mussleman go down at the cry of the muezzin— ingenuous face, he said, fondly; ! “My Lucia, can you be happy here?” and she 1 answered with the sincerity of the moment: | Happy? Yes: I am sure I shall be.” “God bless you, my darling, and may yon | always feel as now,” replied Col. Wilmot, touch ing his lips to her brow with a tenderness that ; seemed less of a lover’s pasSSiHi than a father’s pure affection. Upon the frescoed walls hung gems of art that might have graced the Louvre—works from the matchless inspirations of Rubens, Valas- ques and Murello, and upon which Lucia gazed with appreciative, delighted eyes. He walked away, repeating to himself his resolve. “I will go; I will leave her presence forever. There is danger to me, to her, in a day’s delay. • More than this, there is wrong to my uncle and ; benefactor.” He kept his resolve. That night he had a long 1 conversation with his uncle. “I fear I am not fit for quiet life,” he said; “ I had better go back to the city and work actively at my profession. I shall grow restless and dis satisfied here in spite of your love and kindness, my best of uncles.” ‘* Marry, boy; get you a dear little wife. Home love and home ties will soon tame your restless ness. Happiness is a great anchor. See how content I am,” “I see it, sir, and it gives me great pleasure. I hope, oh, I pray, uncle, it may always con tinue. But I can’t follow your good example just now. I will make my profession my bride, ; and will win laurels and make you proud of me, I hope.'" He did win laurels in the busy life that fol lowed—a life of work and constant action—un cheered by love, but blessed by the friendship and gratitude of many whom his genius had 1 made happier and better. To his lonelv rooms in the heart of a "rent “And here, Lucia, is my boy, my Vernon of ! city many invitations came to him from his box. Their lorgnettes swept slowly across the 0I J through the strange and spell-haunted Orient, where woman's beauty is still made matter of i traffic. They had seen the glory of the old world, and : at last were wearied of change. With Merrell, it had been only the desire to “ see the world;” with Vernon, it was a two-fold motive, one of brilliant throng, then turned reluctantly to rest upon the stage, all but one, and that still lin gered as if held by magnetism upon a neighbor ing box, beneath whose silken curtains sat a woman of rare loveliness. The shadowy eyes were fixed with an eager gaze npon the stage, the slender figure inclining forward in a grace ful pose that no studied art could have given. Vernon Wilmot WntcllOll lici frith otmngc thrill stirring his heart which marks the first recognition If »nl, feted to be bond together , ™ by the strongest ties of passion. r Turning to his friend who sat beside him, he exclaimed in a low, eager whisper: “ Merrell, see that beautiful woman !” “That is certainly very definite, Will. There are scores here answering to that description. Which do you mean ?” “The one in ruby-colored velvet, with dia monds in her hair—the third box from this.” “Yes; I believe she has more than her share of the great thing so necessary for a woman. But, man, you have not looked at Norma yet. By Jove ! she sings as if she had the very soul of Jubal in her throat.” “ Pshaw, Merrell, you are stage-struck already ! and can see nothing but that painted beauty upon . the boards.” “Hold ! Look to the laurels of your own beauty when yon touch upon that question. ‘All is not gold that glitters.’ ” 1 Never was loveliness more genuine than whom I have told yon so often. He led her as he spoke to a portrait in a con spicuous place npon the wall. As Lucia lifted her eyes to it, her heart bounded w’ith a wild tumult of surprise. Once before, she had seen that face. There was the same proud poise of eyes that had been his fate. the knightly head with its wealth of curls: the once after their parting in the gray twilight, ; enjoyment'of the hour. Strange contrast! Life when he had held her hand a moment, looked j n ’th e shadow an steadily in her eyes and replied to her question uncle—letters dull of kind fears that he would overwork himself, and pleadings that he would come to him and cheer him with his society. It was hard to refuse these—it was hard, too, to re sist the temptation to look once more into the He saw her but upon yonrself the wearying and yet every post in public as well as private schools is always filled by young girls just from the school-room themselves, and by others who have grown gray in the service. O, men ! to the faithful ones of this class uncover your heads with the chivalry of olden days, for their self- sacrifice and patience deserve your admiration and reverence. To those who possess a thorough knowledge of music, good compensation is gen erally given, and the labor of teaching is dis guised by the love of the art. Sewing—another thing that girls can do. It has been said that “she who can wield n needle need not starve.” But worse even than teaching is this means of gaining a livelihood; for, the mind being allowed too much time for thought is apt to brood over trouble, and bitter and dis contented feelings grow in the heart. How often have we been touched with compassion by the care-worn look that the poor seamstress wears ! Not one who sews merely to assist in the sup port of a family, one who has love and care around her, and encouragement when the tired hand would stop its labor; but the lonely woman, who sews for bread, and clothes, and shelter; w’hose cheek has lost its bloom, whose eyes have grown heavy over the flickering lamp, and whose heart has ceased to hope almost—save that an other world may compensate the craving for joys never to be known in this. Do the fortunate ones of earth ever think of these poor things ? A sound of music falls upon the still night air. Flowers send forth their fra grance, and the bright lights shine upon beauty, youth and happiness. Caressed and flattered, the child of fortune treads the dance with eager same magnetic eyes of luminous gray. The dy ing strains of Norma came floating through her bewildered brain. Col. Wilmot, engrossed by pleasing thoughts, passed nnobservedly the agitation of his bride, over whose recent ciuiet content a fatal shadow mg: ••I am going, because it is best. It is possible we may never meet again. Heaven bless you 7 __ . ^ and keep you pure and true as you are beauti- which he now scarce dared to acknowledge to ! was stealing. * The serpent had entered her para- ; ful.” s himself. More than twelve months had passed ■ dise. since that lnminnaa ou’/a nie* Liao« Ua • “ It IS a s. of Norma thrilled and throbbed npon the iViir, ’ nusoanu, witu loyiug and with the heart sickness of hope deferred, he while \ ernon was in Fans. is a splendid likeness.” continued her CHAPTER IH. I have set mj life upon a cast. And I will staud the hazard of the die. Shakspeaee. “And you will marry him, Lucia?” “ Yes.” The word fell hard and cold from the delicate red lips, like the first clods upon a coffin-lid. “ Do you think that you realize the step you are taking ? ” “I have considered it well, Kate, and have made up my mind irrevocably.” “Oh, Lucia, darling, I dare not see you sell your life, your heart for gold !” “My life, yes; my heart, no! I have dealt candidly with him, and yet with that ignoble selfishness so often found in men, he is willing to take the casket without the gem—the body without the soul! I confess that I could respect When he saw her next, it was through the mists of the valley of the shadow, through which utr »,to jrmaing 1U ltie prime ui jins uulile imiu- hood and the freshness of his fame—dying with harness on—stricken down in the noble work he had left his profession to follow—that of an earn est, eloquent declaimer against the devastating demon of intemperance. In that solemn, last moment, their eyes and Do you not like it, Lucia?” surprised at her silence. “Like it,” she replied, in a low voice; “how could I do else ? It is as beautiful as a demi-god. ’ By a strong effort, she regained her self-pos session, and turned away from the pictured face, though it floated before her bewilderingly. , their hands met once more, and as she knelt be- j cnmstances of life? Surely bright eyes and rosy ••He will return in a few weeks now, and side his bed in white, tearless agony, his last cheeks have a value still; and once in the good then, Lucia, you shall learn to love and admire look rested upon her as his soul passed to its old story-book days a little maid was heard to himself more than yon can his handsome phys- j rest. declare her face was her fortune ! Marriage ! ique. *—* - - ■ - —- and life in the sunlight. “God sets some lives in shade alone; They have no sunlight of their own; (.inly in lives of happier ones. They see the light of distant suns.” What can girls do ? An answer comes from the beau-monde, “Let them be married.” Ah ! at last the question is answered, the puzzle solved ! The fi*hionftble mama rears her little girl from tilic very < rmllc vrlth a vi»>w-to some brilliant mar riage. For this she plans, and dreams at night, and labors in the day. For this she studies the character of the gentlemen who visit her house, and ponders intently the weight of their pockets. Cannot this answer apply to girls in other cir- Lucia did not reply. A chill foreboding ' seemed to freeze the warm current in her veins, and she pressed her hand upon her heart to still its wild throbbing. FASHION NOTES. yonder queenly creature’s; iTf swear'to that! j more if he were a trifle more fastidious;” As well might you say that the dew-spangled ! aQ d a bitter curve was given to her lip as she rose or lily wore hues not all their own. ” “ Well, have it your way, Will. She does seem | quite genuine, I believe, on a second look, espe CHAPTER IV. “ Beholding heaven and feeling hell!” Day after day Lucia stole to that niche in the wall within which hung the portrait of Vernon, and looked with guilty heart-ehidings upon the face that for many months she had gazed upon through the lens of memory, and whose eyes possessed a fascination tint frightened cially that arm and hand—there’s no fraud about that, and I don’t think my Norma herself can beat it But hush. Will! we are losing both song and story in this sort of thing.” Merrell turned his glance again upon the stage with no further thought of the beautiful un known. The drawing of the subtle threads of fate; the kindling into sudden life of latent fires was not felt by him. It was to the friend by his side that they came in irresistible potency. With the grand music of the opera surging through his senses, he watched the beautiful mobile face, finding there a charm that softened her, spoke. j while conscience accused he:, and her husband’s “Well, Lucia, it may be well to call yourself < kindness made her feel like a guilty thing, an ‘ old man’s darling ’ for the sake of his gold, j Three weeks had passed since she had entered but I could never be unless my heart went with the home of Col. Wilmot. and the lamp-light Materials and Colors. —Checks are still hold- ing their own. The prettiest are plain cloth col- : ors barred with narrow lines of some brighter I hue. Heavy materials, sueh as silk poplin and ■ cashmere, are made less elaborately and with little trimming. The most fashionable dark shades are brown, navy blue and invisible green. Cream and pearl are the favorite light colors, with the delicate wood tints. In plain silks, taffetas has largely taken the place of gros-grain, because so well-adapted to the fine knife-plaitings still used as trimmings. Ah, truly, that is the destiny of woman. What happier, brighter life can be conceived of than a I true, a perfect marriage ! To be the queen of some good man’s home, to know that you are making a life brighter and better by your very ! presence, to fuel that you are appreciated, and to be a comforter—that is woman’ own preroga tive. God, who has given many blessings to man, never gave one more priceless than a true and faithful wife. I have seen old ladies, with venerable silver-haired husbands, who would watch them with that tender pride that only women feel for some one who is all their own, and I know that in their hearts the affection is stronger than it was in their youth. The step is my hand. You have had countless offers,— many of them suitable in age and position; then why do you accept this man—old and haughty— one that you certainly cannot love.” “Is there such a thing as love, my pet? Once I thought I felt the spell—once I met eyes that seemed to hold my fate in their glance; but it could not have been, for I met them no more. I acknowledge to you, Kate, that but ODe man has ever awakened the slightest interest in my heart. But of that I need not speak now; and as circumstances (another name for fate) have his soul to the fictitious passion rendered upon I “ e to** 8 step ’ 1 ha ™ acce Pt®'l « ffer > the stage, and holding him like a spell in its ; y h “ h a11 to ^commend it save the fleeting, ° - --- —- - - • 1 fickle thing yon call love. If I am doing wrong, it is too late to think of it now. So, chere, do not trouble that pretty head of yours any more. What is to be will be, yon know. I shall wrap my heart in a jeweled robe and play the role of the ‘ old man’s bride ’ with right regal grace. ” And thus with a gav abandon is often met this mortal woe. And when," at last, with unblench- j 8 rea , test epoch in a woman’s lifo-closing with a ing heroism, Norma, the priestess, ascends the ! careless hand the golden doors of maidenhood nvre of immolation, while the vastthronn shud- 1 behind them, and looking forward with strange thralldom. The madness that comes to man once in a lifetime was stealing over him— | the madness that the world calls love. He watched her color come and go as the tide of song ebbed and flowed. Her face was the mir- j ror where he read the stormy emotions that gathered power as the grand opera swelled ! to its climax of mortal passion and more than pyre of immolation, while the vast throng shud dered with pity and horror, the beautiful eyes that turned toward Wilmot swimming in tears, met his intense gaze, and lingered as if held by mesmeric power. At that moment, there were spun the first threads in a shadowy web of fate. The play ended, the departing crowd surged toward the grand entrance, and Wilmot, eager to trace his beautiful incognita, found himself near her—so near that the subtle fragrance of her flowing hair was borne to him, but in that mo ment Merrell’s voice reached him, and his hand stayed him. “ Wilmot, wait a moment; Madame Duclas speaks to you. ” An instant, he paused to hear a woman’s care less salutation, and when he turned again she was lost in the gay, moving mass of life. Thus it is that “trifles light as air” may change the whole current of destiny, as the peb ble turns the stream in its course to the river. Is it chance, that will o’ the wisp ? Is it fate, or is it Providence, “who doeth all things well ?” Call it whatever you may, to Vernon, the opportunity around which hung his fortune was gone, for he sought in vain through every gay assemblage the face that haunted him so ceaselessly. streamed through its ample halls upon Vernon, sated with travel in foreign lands, who had ar rived a few hours previous, hut had not yet been presented to his mcle's wife. There was a tmile of incredulity upon the 1 flexile lips as hf listened to the old man’s praises of his young bide. j p- r C.isili- * ee M e » th® hair is white, and the frame bent with usually mnde up in conjunction i ?S®» but to her he is still “John Anderson, my Ivet. Many dinner and evening j°> ev ®nas m the days when “ he came wooing,” Trimming and Style of Making mere silks are with silk or velvet. Aiany mnner ana evening , - , , . ... , , dresses are made without overskirts, but with aI )d will ever be through time and through eter- the back arranged in poufs or plain Abbess folds ! nlt 7’, ^ lte ^ as ™ an y good things for all of us, and trimmed high up in front. For black silks I ant ^ ^ or woman this surely is the best lot. But and cashmeres, or silk and velvet combined, the | circumstances, and that higher power that shapes popular trimmings are handsome crimped or oar destinies, has much to do with the coloring chenille fringes and feather trimming, though the °* ® nr lves ’ so ^at it other duties lie in our . .... latter is rather frail for general use. Plainer ! Pathway, we can only surmount them by faitli- “You may n>w pass your own fastidious judg- woolen costumes are elaborately decorated with | performing them, ment, however, \ ernon, as she is here to sub- braids and woolen fringes. A woman asks not tame; and, if she be ambi- stantiate my .ssertions. ” ,, ‘ ... r „,° '', ...... , ; tions, it is oftentimes that gentle kind of arnbi- Vernon herd the rustle of her silken dress, ; Outside IN baps.—The cloth jacket is much : t j on t h at a [ ms f or high achievements to win and arose t> meet her, but the smile died i hraid^ applause from the fond hearts who love her. Af- The most elegant and expensive are made of , f ec tj on is the main-spring of all her energy, and heavy black cathedral silk, lined or simply bor- ] w fc a t could she not do when prompted by pure, dered with fur. Many of the imported beaver llnse ]g s h love ! Men have done us injustice and velvet cloaks are heavily wrought with em- 1 80metimes> thought us frivolous, careless broidery. The popular garment has long square heings, because a/etc have deserved the name; but fronts and halt-fitting, short back, beal sain . gi r ] s were created for something higher, nobler comtortable and expensive as than a useless life of gayeties and pleasure. We ever ’ b’ 1 * y et g rea t demand. They are rich aS pj re to something more than the pleasant flat- oiul liami unnin an mi tt ri tni* tnmi o I ricita nn.l net . u . CHAPTER II. “Well,Vernon,’’said Merrell, elevating his feet a la Americaine, “ how much longer will you hunt Paris over for your fair inamorata ?” “Until I have exhausted all hope of finding her,” he replied gloomily, taking his cigar from his lips and blowing fairy rings of smoke from beneath the heavy, brown moustache. Surely, you’ve done that already. You as well hunt for old Pharaoh’s bones in quickly froi his lips, and a startled stare dila ted his eye. He leaned against the seat from which he ad arisen, and clasped silently the small whit hand offered him, while his heart almost ceaed to throb. She haiberved herself for this, and was self- possessed.nd radiant—the smiling surface giv- 1 sac 'i u ® s are as ing no evience of the commotion within. ; ever, du “Now, ernon,”exclaimed his uncle proudlv, “^ handsome enough tor formal visits, and yet ■ t er j es 0 f the ball-room, and the decking of our as he led .ticia to a seat, 'TdfUle my statement, are ' er -’ * lin S ^ or church and shopping, if j f orms j n becoming clothes. Show me anything if you da!!” ; neec * be - _ | purer, nobler, or more deserving of admiration By anjtfort, Vernon replied with a calm Hats and Bonnets.—Felt is now almost ex- I than a true type of womanhood, and you will voice tin belied the pallor upon his cheek: i clusively worn, in colors to correspond with the j have found “something new under the sun !” “You has failed, sir, to do justice to the sub- , costume and trimmed with velvet, gros grain, | Are there not other voices throughout the land ject,” w!le his gaze dwelt in mute anguish brocade, ostrich plumes and tips, rook and feath-i who echo my questions? Are there not other upon thwoman whose image he had so long ers i wings of every description, and birds, from ; hands eager to labor, other hearts anxious for cherishi and whom he had sought so earnestly. , the chameleon hued impeyan pheasant, to I success? Ah! many of us know too well that She wailressed as she was the night on which | the iris tinted bronze merle, the soft-eyed dove, throughout the length and breadth of the land he had et her first, for her woman’s relentless j the tiny humming bird and plain little gray | there are widows, toiling early and late, for vanity id prompted this test of his memory— j swallow—are all placed on our modern head- . means of subsistence; there are young girls with the sue ruby glory of velvet and the glitter of i dresses. diamol stars upon her brow. And yet, she j White cashmere lace and charming Roman had sa to herself that never, by word or look, j gold and steel slides are a pretty novelty for hat shouliVernon ever know that memory held the | decorations. slightt record of their mmeting. For one brief j For neckwear, thin embroidered fabrics pre expectancy into the alluring, untried future, from which too many turn away smitten, blinded, famished, leaving the poor, cheated heart to starve and die, or feed upon its own bitter fruit, while others more rarely find their brightest dreams a brighter reality. Lucia Lester was the child of a Southern mer chant, who, from almost princely opulence, had by one or two sudden turns in fortune’s wheel been reduced to poverty. The luxurious, beauty- loving nature of Lucia was ill-suited to such a barren life, and she chose rather the gilded , „ „ _ . shackles of a marriage unsanctified by love— mount, the struggle with disappointment was dominate, and no wonder, for the delicate filmy shackles that in after years would weigh heavily upon her tree, proud nature, and make her bit terly regret the want of endurance and courage that had driven her to this refuge from the hard ships of want. Four week’s later, a bridal train swept up the aisles of a spacious church, while the grand notes of the organ sounded the wedding march. The bride was peerless in her statuesque beauty, with cheeks as colorless as her satin robes, und with diamonds that glittered as they rose and fell on a bosom heaving with rebellious emotion. Her fair young head drooped beneath its crown of fairy lace and myrtle buds, and her hand bore heavily upon the arm of the stately man at her side, whose muscular physique con tradicted the records of age that were stamped upon his brow, while the courtly grace of his manner spoke the born aristocrat There was a fond pride in the calm, gray eyes as he turned from the altar and looked down upon the beau tiful woman he could now indisputably call his own. Through it all, Lucia had scarcely moved the pale, compressed lips, and in her eyes was that pained, far-away look which tells that the soul bittetbut only a moment, und then was fciself again.” Wi a bitter pleasure, he found that the star whofradiance had so dazzled him so long in menry, was not surface shine alone. She was brilkit in language, pure and refined in senti- menwith a grace and dignity that was more irratible, if possible, than the beauty of form. As Ilooked at her and listened to her exquisite voi< he felt himself yielding, more and more, Richard ' ^ ace w °*k imparts a freshness and purity to the complexion that nothing else can. Beautifully embroidered ties of white maline can now be purchased from 75 cents to S3.00, so that they are within range of any one’s purse. Women and Jewelry.—There is nothing more j much adversity. the shadow of despair upon their faces; there are wives trying to aid their husbands in some way to support their little families—and from many and many a heart the question rises, What can girls do ? What can a woman do ? Seldom does the answer come. Only hope whispers, “ Be of good cheer. ” Hope, whose bright presence stays with us through the cloudiest days, to her, how much success in life is due. She lifts up the hands that hang down and strengthens the feeble knees, and keeps the heart brave through vulgar than a large display of jewelry. Some women, calling themselves ladies, wear no less than a dozen rings on both hands, besides brace lets on their wrists (and ankles too for ought we to I irrei stible fascination of her presence, j know), and other outlandish things suspended unlit became insupportible, and rising with j from their ears. theiea of fatigue, he withdrew; but not to thteaceful retirement of his room or the sweet nepthe of sleep, the whirl of heart and brain pnuding repose, and he bent his steps through thfagrant shade of the magnolia walk down tote bay, whose waves rolled in with monoto ne,. mournful murmur. Throwing himself dp upon the beach, he reasoned with his own ht, and resolved not to turn coward and fly ft the temptation, but to face it and conquer itwfully; to look upon this beautiful woman ably his uncle’s wife, and give her no sign of tHeeper interest he had so romantically and ftshly cherished. Thousands of ladies (?) on seating themselves in the cars or other public places, unglove the hand that wears the diamonds, and if they sit where the light can strike them, they engage in flashing their fire in the faces of the company to let them know that they have “ them of the fir?t water.” Rest assured, that a woman who can do this is vulgar at heart, and has not sense enough in her bead to balance the outside show that she makes, and that she tries to make up in show what she lacks in merit and virtue. There are some women who wear jewels and are utterly unconscious of them, and never think of them as a matter of display, but simply as of taste. To those who like myself have been faint hearted, who have met disappointment, who have sighed for things beyond their reach, and indulged in dreams never realized, I would still say, hope; for if in this world our efforts fall fruitless, surely somewhere—“beyond the sun set ”—there is a world “ Where hope ia fruition, And sighs are sweet sounds, And dreams are the wings of the day.’* Still We Move.—Progress is irresistible. First tlu seed, then the swelling bud, the bursting lgaf, the blooming flower, and the ripening fruit From the germ cell is evolved all the various phases of organic existence. In intellect, that last and highest form of terrestrial develop ment comes the connecting link between matter and spirit; the mind bom in this world matures in the world beyond.