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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