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THE GEORGIA CAPITAL.
LOCAL NOTES.
Thh Governor's Guards will give a grand ball
in the Markham House on the 23d inst.
Col. Owens, of the National, has taken full
E issession of the new and elegant Markham
ouse.
The preparations for the fair, under the
auspices of the ladies of the Catholic church,
are progressing rapidly, and the ocoasion prom
ises to be a grand one.
We have had pleasant calls from Marschalk,
that clever and genial veteran of the Georgia
press, and he is getting u’ a new paper in Car-
tersville in opposition to L_j old Express. Also,
from Colonel James L. Brown and Hon. William
W. Weaver, of Greenesboro, Ga.
The Havebly Minstrels.—This is one of the
very best of the “burnt cork” companies now
traveling, and whenever they announce an ap
pearance at the Opera House, it is sure to be filled.
On Monday evening last, an immense audience
greeted them, and were greatly delighted.
Whidby, of The Constitution, has just returned
from the Methodist Conference, looking fatter
than he ever did, and says he had chicken in
every style. It is clear that somebody else
besides Methodist preachers like chicken. We
fear also that he has left a disconsolate widow in
Griffin. t
The Library.—We regret exceedingly the re
cent differences between the Directors and Li
brarian of this popular and most worthy insti
tution. Mr. Herbst had won the general esteem
of the people, and the announcement that he
had been discharged by the Board created a gen
eral sensation in the city. We regret also that
the Directors should have felt called upon in
self-vindication to publish what he no doubt
intended as private notes, for it affects not only
Mr. H., but other good men and citizens.
We are pleased to learn that he has been of
fered the position of Librarian in the Macon
Library, but should regret to lose him from At
lanta.
We were pleased to meet several times in our
sanctum Col. Gray, the great American tourist,
during his recent sojourn in our city. From
him we learn that he has traveled continuously
since 18C5 in the interest of Southern immi
gration. He has crossed the Atlantic fifty times
going to and from England and the Continent
of Europe. He canvassed all of England, Scot
land, Wales, Germany, Denmark, Sweden and j
Norway, in the interest of international travel; j
and has given years of his time in endeavoring
to promote immigration to the South,
gentleman of fine appearance and agreeable
manner. We heartily wish him great success in
his important work.
If the Holmans in opera fail to crowd the
Opera House to overflowing this week, then are
the people of Atlanta largely deficient in musical
taste and culture. Always first-rate, always ex
cellent, the troupe as now organized transcends
all former combination and effort, and is without
doubt the best on the continent. The pretty,
piquant sisters, Sallie and Julie, reinforced by
Brandisi, Ellis Ryse, Barton, A. D. Holman,
Miss Emma Hall, and a host of other talent, con
stitute a troupe in which even extravagant ex
pectation can never be disappointed. Thursday
night they presented a happy choice for the
opening night of the season, the new and bril
liant “ Girofle-Girolia,” in which Miss Sallie
Holman sang the dual role of the twins, and
Miss Julie the charming attendant Paquita.
That they sang and acted their roles perfectly is
a “twice-told tale,” an encomium which has
followed them in every city ot the Union. Bran
disi as Marasquin won the audience. His part
includes many musical numbers, solo and con
certed, and airs which are bound to become pop
ular. Ellis Ryse as Mouzourk is simply immense.
He has a baritone voice of unusual compass, and
betrays careful culture. The support have been
selected with care, and leave nothing to be de
sired. “Madame Angot” will be presented Fri
day evening, and those who wish a night’s in
tense and uninterrupted enjoyment should not
fail to attend.
The Hall Theatrical Combination.—The pa
thetic and thrilling play of “The Two Orphans,”
as presented by this extraordinary combination
of artistic talent, made a deep impression upon
our Atlanta people. The whole force and beauty
of the piece was brought out with wonderful
effect, and many eyes were bathed in tears at
witnessing the exceedingly touching and life
like representations of the sufferings and cruel
hardships of the little blind orphan girl, Louise.
Miss Ada Gilman has a fine conception of the
spirit of this character, and with a few slight
exceptions, her impersonation of it is complete.
Mr. Coleman, as Pierre, the knife-grinder, and
friend of the blind girl, is master of his role,
and richly deserved the laurels of the evening.
All the leading characters were well sustained
throughout, and evinced a rare combination of
dramatic talent.
“The Saratoga” of this combination, and
which seems to be a favorite piece with them, is
not a suocess as a drama, and we failed utterly
to appreciate it. The scenes, hits and incidents
are all far-fetched and entirely overdrawn.
While it purports to be a “take off” of fashion
able life at this famous American watering-place,
it introduces scenes which never occurred, and
were never dreamed of. The great power of
life-dramas consists in their faithful portrayal
or correct presentation of scenes in real life,
and when it brings forward such as never had
an existence, it loses its effect.
WHAT CAS THE MATTER BE I
BY PORT U. LACCA.
What, oh, what can the matter be ?
Wife ia so “ fussy I" Oh, dear me!
She says “ I shall,” and then “ I shan't,"
And every look she gives askant.
Her hair is like the tangled flax.
Her tongue is sharp—so like an ax!
Her steps are heavy on the floor,
And slam goes-to an open door.
She’s cross to Tom, her “ darling ’’ cat,
She calls the baby “ little brat; ’’
And I, she snaps, not worth a straw,
A fit companion for a squaw.
So it has been thro’ all the day—
But I just know what is to pay;
Our neighbor Brown has been and done it—
He's bought his wife a bran new bonnet.
[Written for The Sunny South.]
FIGHTING AGAINST FATE;
OR,
Alone in the World.
BY MARY E. BRYAN.
CHAPTER XVII.
With her door locked, even upon Dusky,
Esther sat through long hours of that night by
the window of her room, gazing out upon the
far, unsympathizing stars, and upon the roofs
that sheltered, as she thought bitterly, happy
human hearts—gazing out with the blank, fixed
look of dumb pain and hopelessness. She was
still dressed as she had been in the last scene of
the night’s performance, and the faint moonlight
marbleized her statuesque arms and throat, and
her colorless, chiseled features, as she sat with
that look of proud misery on her mouth, and
her dark eyes staring forward as though they
saw, in prophetic vision, the passing phantoms
of the years to come, each hopelessly like the
other as were the witch-summoned shadows that
shook the soul of Macbeth with terror.
The trill of a bird in the oak branches just
outside the window roused her at last—a short,
liquid note, as if the minstrel sang out in some
happy dream. Suddenly conscious of the damp
air, she shivered and turned away. At that in
stant, a low, moaning sound fell on her ear;
listening, she found that it came from the pass
age outside her room, and opening the door, she
started with a pang of self-reproach to see Dusky,
whom she had refused to admit two hours before.
He is a j lying couched on the floor, with a shawl wrapped
around her night-dress and her head pillowed
on her arms. She was asleep, but as Esther held
the lamp near her face, she saw that her cheeks
were stained with tears, and she was drawing
her breath with a sobbing sound, as though she
grieved in her dreams. As Esther stooped to
raise her, she waked and clung to her friend.
Without speaking, Esther drew her into the
room and sat down, clasping her with her arms.
“I did not mean to go to sleep there,” she
whispered. “I was afraid you would be sick
and would need me, you looked so ill; so I lay
where I could hear you if you called. I want to
be near you as long as I can. Oh, Miss Bernard—
my Esther, are you going away as you said ?”
“Yes, Dusky.”
“Then, don't leave me if you care for me at
all. Let me go with you, please let me go with
you.”
“ I have no home, and no place to take you to,
Dusky. I shall drift away from herein the cur
rent of Fate, to be carried I do not know where,
for it is all dark ahead. ”
“1 would be willing to drift anywhere, to the
world’s end, with you; will you let me go, god
mother ?”
“No, Dusky. Do you not see that a cloud
hangs over me? It will hang over me wherever
I go. I cannot take you under its withering
shadow."’
The child's clasp tightened.
“I, too, have my shadow’,” she said. “I haTe
lived under it all my life, ever since I could re
member. The only light that has ever shone
through it has been your love, Esther.”
“You forget your father, my child.”
“No, I do not. He loves me, but he does not
need me. I do not seem one with him as I do
with you. YVhat shall I do with my life when I
cannot see you any longer? My father is going
to leave me here until he goes back to Texas or
Mexico on some important errand; then he will
take me qnd put me in the Convent of the Sa
cred Heart at Natchitoches.”
“And the Sisters w’ill be so kind to you.”
“ They are kind to everything—a general kind
ness, as a matter of habit and duty. It will not
do me any good. The old wicked, bitter feel
ings would come back when there was no one to
care for me.”
“ You will not let them, Vicey, for your own
sake. You Jove harmony in music, why not in
your life? Set your thoughts and actions to
sweet accord.”
“Ah ! the key-note will be missing,—you will
be gone.”
“You can hear its echo vibrate in your mem
ory, and it may lie I will not drift so utterly
away as to lose all hold upon you; and if I find
rest for the sole of my foot, I will let you know’
the girls, whose affectionate greetings and eager
attentions she had been accustomed to. Many
of these young creatures she had grown to like.
Attracted by her grace and gentleness, they had
hovered around her at recreation hours like bees
around a rose. Their caresses might not mean
much—might be only the shallow gushing of
impressionable youth, but they had been sweet
and soothing to her; how much, so she felt this
weary morning, as she stood at her window, con
cealed by the curtain, and watched, one after
another, the girls take their departure, in car
riages and buggies, with their relatives or friends,
without coming near her to say good-by. One
alone had stood by her—passionate, devoted
Dusky had kept near her all day with the in
stinct of sympathy, and had watched the slights
put upon her friend with eyes that flashed fire,
while her hands involuntarily clenched them
selves under her apron.
All day, Esther had been waiting a summons
from the President. It came at last, and she
went down well prepared for what follow’ed. Dr.
Sturm, sitting in severe stab*, waved her to a
seat, and after a set speech on duties and re
sponsibilities, with an allusion to the hawk that
borrowed the dove’s plumage, and entered the
innocent dove-cote, he came to the point by say
ing that he had been greatly astonished and
shocked at receiving, from a most reliable and
respectable source, information concerning her
past life that boro strongly against her character;
that the name she was bearing was assumed, and
that she had left her native town in disgrace.
He added that, unless she could show the infor
mation to be untrue and establish her inno
cence by the clearest proof, she had better resign
her position in the college.
She beard him through with the calm, proud
face she had worn all da}’. Rising, she said,
simply:
“I accept your suggestion, and will tender
my resignation at once. If you have no more to
say, I will go now and write it, and afterward
make preparation for leaving here to-night.”
He looked at her through his spectacles with
grave curiosity.
“Will you, then, make no attempt to exoner
ate yourself?” he asked.
“Of what use would it be? The explanation
I could offer would not be believed—would be
regarded as a lame fabrication, though it is
truth, though I have never committed an act to
soil my honor. It is due to myself to say that
much, though I neither ask nor expect you to
believe me.”
She left him amazed and puzzled by her calm
bearing, which he sat down at last as hardened
assurance.
Once more, she packed her few possessions
for hurried departure. The stage coach left that
night at eleven; s&B would go in it—where, she
hardly knew. But she found her thoughts
turning to Now Orleans, to the one who had
begged her to apply to him if she was ever in
sore need of a friend’s help. But two months
had passed since she had heard from Copley,
and her last letters to him remained unan
swered.
YVhen it was sunset, she went down stairs,
hoping that a walk in the, cool, shrubberied
grounds would relieve her throbbing temples.
As she passed through the hall, the sound of ex
cited voices reached her, and presently Dusky
hurried past without seeing her. Following the
child down-stairs, she saw her turn in the thick
shrubbery, throw herself down on a bench be- '
scribable color, a mixture of hazel, green and
blue, he said, impressively:
“We shall meet again.”
A few hours later, the lumbering yellow stage
coach rattled up in front of the college gate and
stopped to receive a solitary passenger—a slen
der, vailed figure, who stood at the gate beside
her trunk with a child clinging to her to the last
moment
“The music ma’rm that got her walking-
papers to-day,” whispered a bold, rowdy-looking
young fellow 7 , winking at his companion on the
front seat. “Deuced good figure she’s got.”
And when she had taken her seat, he employed
himself in trying to get a view of her face be
hind her vail as the coach rolled away through
the silent streets and out upon the moonlit,
shadow-flecked country road, the driver’s bugle
trolling out as cheerfully on the night air as
though there were no heavy heart inside.
Over hill and plain, rolled the swaying, jolt
ing vehicle, while the occupants grumbled or
slept, talked, sang, whistled or kept silent, until
at sunrise the coach drew up before a farm-house
to change horses and give the passengers a
chance to breakfast. All availed themselves of the
opportunity except Esther, who wanted nothing
to eat, and who was glad to be for a few moments
free from the curious stare of the men, that she
might throw back her vail and drink in the
freshness of the morning and the sight of the
green fields and the waving woods beyond.
“Here is your breakfast, if you please, Miss.”
She turned to see at her right hand a waiter
with a steaming cup of tea upon it, and plates
of wafers and buttered toast.
“ Why did you bring this to me? I sent for
no breakfast, child,” she said to the little bright-
looking girl that brought it.
“The tall gentleman with the big beard told me
to bring it. He fixed it hisself. And you might
jest as well eat it, else he’ll be throwin’ away his
money for it, and he giv’ me a dime to bring it
to you. Here he comes out on the porch now.”
Esther looked and recognized the tall, sway
ing figure, the careless air, the firm-poised
head, sun-tanned, bearded face, and long, half
curling hair falling down over the neck, and
surmounted by the slouched sombrero. A figure
of careless strength and grace, the look of a
backwoods hunter, with a dash of the soldier
and a bint of the romantic adventurer—the
figure of Dusky’s father, Capt. Ixirne.
Esther was surprised. She had thought he
meant to travel in an opposite direction. Since
it was to him she owed the attention, she ac
cepted it and drank the excellent tea and ate one
of the crisp wafers.
When he came out to the coach, she thanked
him briefly. He bowed in acknowledgment and
made no attempt to intrude himself upon her, ,
though the seat beside her was vacant, the lady \ x
who had occupied it having left the coach at this
place. When the passengers came out and re
sumed their seats, the bold-eyed, insolent young
man who had spoken of Esther, threw himself
down beside her, and removing the cigar from
his mouth, coolly stared her in the face. A hand
fell on his shoulder and a pair of keen eyes
flashed subdued fire into his as Capt. Kime said:
“Leave that back seat to the lady, young man;
we have room in plenty without it.”
The tone of authority was so firm and quick
that the young man obeyed it involuntarily, but
he muttered as he took the middle seat and threw
a sidelong, sullen look at the Californian.
Later in the day, the stage took in another
THE STJHHY SOUTH!
New Features —New Contributors —
New Hopes—Brilliant Prospects.
GRAND TRIUMPHS AHEAD.
A little over one year ha* passed since
the first number of The Sunny South
made its appearance, and the success
which has attended it it well known.
There is perhaps no parallel to it in the
history of the press. But we feel that it
has hardly begun the high career origin
ally planned. In many respects it has
fallen far short of the intentions and as
pirations of its projector, which may be
partially accounted for, however, by the
fact that, single-handed and alone, he has
had to contend at every step against the
countless difficulties which have ever con
fronted literary enterprises in the South.
But thanks to the American people, and
especially to those of the South, their kind
words and liberal appreciation of our la
bors have so cheered and encouraged us
that we have been enabled to overcome
all obstacles thus far, and The Sunny
South stands to-day among the permanent
institutions of the age. 1876 will mark a
far more brilliant era in its history than
the past twelve months, and the pride
which all Southerners and all literary
people now feel in its success thus far
w’ill be greatly increased.
On or before the first of January next,
we shall announce a corps of contributors
which is not equalled, perhaps, by any
literary journal in America. It will be
composed of the first men of the day in
science, literature, divinity, art, education
hind an oleander clump and hide her face in her j passenger or two trom a riverside town, the back
| seat had to be encroached upon, and the imper-
Y.’kat have you ; tinent stranger managed to secure the place
hands.
‘ Dusky, what is the matter ?
been doing?" she asked, coming up to her and ; which he bad been made to vacate, beside Esther.
..r. Lo. “Have an apple?” he presently asked, tender-
putting her hand on her shoulder.
She looked up with a Rushed lace, a comic >ng her one with an air of confidential familiar-
gleam flashing through her tears.
“ Why, I have slapped old Miss Spinx, the
j ity; and seemed but slightly disconcerted when
he was answered only by a haughty, repellant
grammW teacher J tid fulled off her false front.” ; gesture, for ho soon afterwards made another
Oh ! Dusky, why did you do that,—you that
have been good so long?”
There was no answer.
“Tell me, why did you attack Mrs. Spinx?”
“ Why did she not hold her false tongue ? I
am glad the Bible says there is a lake of fire for
liars and slanderers. ”
advance.
“ So old Straight-lace ousted you from his col
lege ? I gave him credit for better taste, I swear. ”
Esther’s cheek flamed* but as she caught the
blaze of Kirne's eye, and saw him half-start from
his seat, she grew composed, and by a look she
restrained her defender and caused him reluct-
“It was something she said about me,—was it ' antiy to keep still, though his lips twitched, his
not ? You should not have noticed it, Dusky, swarthy brow contracted, and ho twisted his
I am sorry you should have acted rudely on my
account. ”
“Esther, could I stand by and hear that crab-
apple old maid slander my dearest?”
mustache nervously in the effort to repress his
indignation. The young coxcomb winced a little
under the threatening eye of the stalwart YVest-
erner, and he remained tolerably inoffensive for
The world’s best and purest have borne the some time, only whistling low and throwing out
cross of slander, Dusky. Socrates and Christ
bore it, and gave no word or blow in return.”
desultory remarks, addressed to no one in par
ticular, about his detestation of folks that put
“It’s the Spanish blood in me, I suppose. I on airs and of people who meddled with what
There lives in A a person who is noted
for the facility with which he upon all occasions
draws upon his imagination. Upon one occa
sion, he had just finished relating one of his
hair-breadth escapes, and among the audience
was a young man who had spent about fourteen
months in Texas. The young man listened with
the highest degree of attention.
Young Man.—“Did I ever tell you about my
fight with Indians while I was in Texas?”
Mr. “No; tell it for the benefit of the
party •”
Y. M.—“ While I was in Texas, a party of us
went out hunting. Naturally enough, I became
separated from my companions, and went it on
my own hook. As I was walking leisurely along
to join my friends, I heard a slight noise behind
me. I turned, and what do you suppose I saw ?
Close upon me were three Indians. The only
weapon I had was a one-barreled shot-gun, which
I had discharged a moment before. I ran with
all my might, loading as I ran. After loading
my gun, I turned, and well I did, for the fore
most Indian w’as upon me, tomahawk in hand.
I raised my gun and fired.”
Here the narrator paused. *
Mr. “You killed him?” (interrogatory.)
Y. M.—“Yes. The second Indian was close
upon me. I ran, loaded just in time, for the In
dian was in ten feet of me. I fired.”
Pause.
Mr. “You killed him!” (exclamatory.)
Y. M.—“Yes. The third Indian was fast gain
ing upon me. I ran on with the speed of light
ning. I put a terrible charge in my gun. The
Indian was almost close enough to touch me. In
his hand was the terrible scalping-knife. I
turned quickly and raised my gun.”
Slight pause.
Mr. “l’ou killed him,” (declaratory.)
Y. M.—“No, he killed me!”
Amidst the roars of the bystanders, Mr.
eloped.
and-
“ You will let me come and be with you and
take care of you. I shall be no expense; my
father will give me money. Only let me come,
Esther—promise me.”
“I promise, Dusky; though I wish you a bet
ter fate, child. You will be a woman some day,
and I have told you there was a cloud over my
life. It may never be lifted.”
“I will try to brighten it, then.” she answered;
and afterwards she was silent, quieted by Esther’s
promise and filled with vague dreams of their
united future. Presently she fell asleep, still
clasped by Esther's arm.
The short summer night breathed itself out in
balm, the stars faded and the gray dawn stole
over them, lighting the child’s pale, sleeping
face with the long lashes resting on her oval
cheek, lighting the woman’s weary but sleepless
eyes, haggard with looking into a hopeless fu
ture, but shining with proud strength and defi
ance, bom of the sense of injustice and the in
stinct of resistance.
“It may crush me, but I will not grovel,” she
muttered, as if in answer to the menacing Fate.
“It may starve me, but it shall not lower my
feeling of what is due to myself and to my ideal
of what life should be.”
When the red rays of sunrise peered through
the oak branches at the window, and glistened
on the dewy lawn below, she waked Dusky with
a kiss, and rising calmly, made preparations for
going down. She had need to nerve herself; for
that day’s ordeal would be one whose extent of
trial only a sensitive-souled woman could meas
ure. She had need to stop just outside the
breakfast-room and pass her hand lightly upon
her heart, and it set her bloodless lips together
in the effort to steel her nerves before entering
the refectory, whose long tables were lined from
end to end with faces of professors, pupils and
many of the parents of the girls who would not
take their departure until later in the day. The
moment she entered the room, she knew that the
story of shame was already known to all—that it
had flashed from lip to ear with the rapidity with
which slander always flies.
Instead of the usual cordial saluation, followed
by the pleasant compliment or merry jest, she
met the grave, constrained bow of the President,
and the cold, averted, or shy, curious glances of
could kill them—the malicious snakes ! I won
der you can take it so calmly, Esther.”
“Calmly!”
The word seemed forced from her lips by some
fierce inner pressure. Dusky looked up into
the white face, „»nd saw the anguish stamped ;
upon it.
“ I see—I know ! It is breaking your heart!”
she cried, throwing her arms around her friend, j
Silently, Esther stroked her head with sooth
ing touches, a few hot tears dropping upon the j
j jetty curls. A deep-drawn sigh made her look j
| up. A tall, dark-bearded man stood looking at
j her intently from beneath his slouched sombrero.
\ The eyes of blended softness and fire had fixed
themselves in her consciousness before.
“Dusky, your father is here,” she whispered,
bending her head to the child’s.
“I know it,” she answered, lifting her face.
“He came in as I was going out to keep from
saying and doing anything more while I was so
angry. He knows all about it, and he will not
blame me as much as you have done; but I am
sure he will take me away from here.”
“ Yes, you shall go to the tavern where I have
been stopping. The landlady there is a moth
erly old person, who will hike care of you until
I return.”
“ When are you going away, padre mio?”
“I do not know,” he answered, with his eyes
upon Esther’s face, defined in its pure pallor
against the background of dark-green leaves and
rosy oleanderTTSoui. •• To-morrow, next day,
didn’t concern them.
The day had drawn to a close, and as the coach
mounted a steep hill, there was a fine view of
the splendid cloud-gulf of gold, purple and ver
milion into which the sun sank royally, while a
flood of gold-red radiance bathed the broad val
ley below and the grand pine forest that girdled
it. For the moment, Esther forgot the day’s hu
miliations, forgot the dull misery that tugged at
her heart-strings, and leaned from the window
in pure enjoyment of the scene, her hands, that
had been folded beneath her mantle, coming out
from their clasp, one holding the coach-strap to
steady her as she leaned forward, the other,
white and lily-like (ungloved because of the
warmth), falling at her side.
She had forgotten her intrusive companion,
until she suddenly felt his touch upon her.
“You’ve a pretty hand of your own,” he whis
pered, grasping it in his and leaning towards
her.
She turned upon him and snatched her fin
gers from his clasp, but before she could utter a
word, a blow from Kirne sent him tumbling
from his seat, and another and another de
scended upon his head with terrible force.
At the sound of the scuffle and the cries of
“murder” from the prostrate craven, the driver
dropped his reins and turned round hurriedly,
at the same time a pistol was fired or went
off in the scuffle. The frightened horses sprang
forward at fearful speed down the steep hill, the
top-heavy vehicle swaying and lunging as it
In our next issue will be opened a reg
ular “Educational Department,” which
will be filled each week by a regular corps
of successful and eminent teachers, and
all teachers everywhere are requested to
contribute to it.
We have established branch offices in
New York and New Orleans, with earnest
and efficient managers in charge, who
will give the paper a wide circulation in
those cities, and we are now seeking to
establish similar agencies in Cincinnati
and St. Louis.
We have also concluded a large con
tract with one of the most popular gentle
men and efficient canvassers known in the
South, who will work up all the interme
diate territory between these cities, and
establish efficient agencies in every locality.
Success to us and a hearty God-speed
will no doubt come up from every friend
of the enterprise, and all we ask is a little
active help and the earnest prayers of
each.
ADVERTISEMENTS.
or next, it may be. And vou, Miss Bernard, are ! jolted over the rough way, and before the driver
i i ^ ■» . u»i ! ennlrl aracn fhfi rainu A wiirtftls nnon nnft
you going to remain here?”
“Oh, my father ! she goes away to-night.”
“To-night? That’s a sudden’thing, isn’t it?
I thought—but then ”
He stopped, hesitating and embarrassed.
Esther felt sure he had heard the slanderous
story. But though the look he gave her was
penetrating, it had in it no suspicion, and no
lack of respect. On the contrary, it lingered
upon her face with an expression of passionate
pit}’, so intense that it confused her.
At length, he said:
“ Will you have no traveling companion, Miss
Bernard ?”
“No, sir; none.”
“ The river is very low, and there are no boats
above the rapids. You will be forced to go to
Alexandria by stage.”
“ I have little need to care for small discom
forts,” she said, a ripple of bitter feeling in her
tone. Then, wishing to escape farther ques
tions, she turned and broke off a cluster of the
oleander blooms, and held them to Dusky’s
cheek.
“The dew is beginning to fall,” she said.
“ Gather me a last nosegay, Dusky. There is a
spell in flowers gathered with the starlight and
the dew upon them -vide Nourmahal’s charmed
bouquet.”
Drawing the scarf of black lace so as to shade
her face, she took Dusky’s hand and they moved
away, accompanied by the tall figure of Dusky’s
father.
An hour afterward, as he said good-by under
the stars and held her hand a moment, looking
at her with his strange, lucid eyes of an inde-
could grasp the reins, the wheels upon one side
crashed down into a gully, and the coach was
overturned.
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
The connection between food and morals is
closer than might be supposed. The indulgence
of appetite is the beginning of crime, and the
foundation of useful and honorable lives is laid
in coarse, simple, but well-prepared food in in
fancy and childhood.
It may be as well to remark, however, that oat
meal, and other simple articles of food, which
are exceedingly palatable when properly pre
pared, are often nauseating for want of salt, be
cause the meal is not of good quality, because it
has not been cooked enough, or is not eaten with
the proper accompaniment. A good quality of
oatmeal, well-salted, well-boiled, and eaten plain,
with cream or rich new milk, is a dish for a
king—if kings deserve any better dishes than
their neighbors.
Two sisters live in Florence, Italy, who never
pass a beggar without giving him something,
saying, at the same time: “ Instead of blessing
me, pray a little for my beloved brother, who is
in purgatory,” and there is not a street where
the sisters, ever dressed in the deepest crape,
are not followed by loving, devoted eyes from
the many to whom they have made this touch
ing appeal.
It is said that lightning never strikes twice in
the same place, and a mau who has been hit
fairly by it once may rest easy ever after.
MUSIC! MUSIC! MUSIC!
W E want to tell you that we sell the Best and Cheapest
Pianos asn Organs, of every grade, variety and
price, as well as Sheet Music and everything else ever
kept by any First-Class Music House. We take old in
struments in part pay for new. We will make it the direct
pecuniary interest of yourself or friends, wanting
anything we have, to write us fully, thus securing our
prompt reply, with Brices, Terms, Illustrated Cata
logues, etc.
GENERAL AGENT8 FOR THE
CHICKERING & SOYS,
WJI. KNA11E & CO.,
The Beat PIANOS in the World.
C. D. PEASE «Si CO.,
The best low-priced Piano made.
MASON & HAMLIN,
GEO. A. PRINCE & CO.,
The best and cheapest Organs In the world.
Write to
PHILLIPS, CREW & FREYER,
SOUTHERN PIANO AND ORGAN DEPOT,
ATLANTA, - - GEORGIA.
EISEMAN BROS.,
TAILORS AND CLOTHIERS,
55 Whitehall Street,
ATLANTA, - - - GEORGIA.
MISS HELEN J. HAAS,
P URCHASIN'G AGENT,
138 Fourth St., Louisville, Ky,
Will purchase, on commission, for persons out of the
city—Dry Goods, Ready-Made Suits, Children’s Clothing,
Millinery, Human Hair Goods, Jewelry, House-Furnish
ing Goods, and any other articles desired.
All orders promptly attended to, and sent per Express,
C. O. D. Address all letters to Miss Helen J. Haas, care
Hogan A Co., 158 Fourth street,
References—Wm. Kendrick & Son, Cannon A Byers.
To the Ladies.
B EAUTIFUL CHANDELIERS; HaU and Parlor Lamps;
Plain White, Decorated and Gold-Band China Dinner,
Tea and Chamber Seta; Baskets, Elegant Vaaes, Toilet
Sets. Parian and Bronze Statuary,—the finest and cheap
est stock in the South, at McBride A Co.’s China Pal
ace, Atlanta, Ga.
Housekeepers, if you want fine Table Cutlery, Silver-
Plated Spoons, Forks, Castors, Fruit Stands, send to Mc
Bride A Co. and get best goods at lowest price. Toys for
the million.
We will take back goods and refund money to any pur
chaser not pleased with articles we send them.
McBRIDE A CO., Atlanta.
SENT FREE!
U PON APPLICATION: — Samples of Cloth, with
Rules of. ur Noted System for Self-Meusare-
ment, by which the most perfect fit Is guaran
teed. Send for Fashion Plate and circular to
FREEMAN & WOODRUFF,
(A. Freeman, late of Freeman A Burr,)
CLOTHIERS,^
841 Broadway, - - NEW YORK.
(Opp. City HaU Park and New Poet-Office.)
fid” Special Disconnt to Clergymen.-Yfi