The sunny South. (Atlanta, Ga.) 1875-1907, May 11, 1907, Image 2
1.
EDITORIAL PAGE
nan
^ \ .*
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THE SUNNY SOUTH
H
MAY n,
ISC7.
X5he SUNNY SOUTH
Published Weekly by
popular feature of The Sunny South. It is to be
called “The Open House,” and an open house it
will be—open to full and frank expression of opin
ion on that wide variety of topics which find their
focus about the hearthstone, .whether in sunny
Sunny South Publifhing Co Florida or the far latitudes of Maine.
8 usine/s Office
THE CONSTITUTION BUILDING
ATLANTA, GEORGIA
Rassred sc the peeteflre thug*L»«»—* «»— ■»” — 1 *—
March 13, lVOl
*
The Saury Smuts (j the oldest meekly paper ef Literature,
ttomaace. Pa A and Plrtloa la the South * It la nem re.
stored to the original shape and mill he published as form
eterly emery eseek Pounded In tSTS It gram until 1899.
mhen, as a monthly. Its form mas changed as an experts
meat & St nom returns le Its original formation as a
meekly mlth renemed vigor and the Intention of ecllpes
lag Its most promising period In the past.
Hail and Farewell
FFECTIVE with the current issue
The Sunny South discontinues pub
lication under that title. It will be
merged with Uncle Remus s Maga
zine, the subscribers to The Sunny
South having their subscriptions to
the latter completed by the new
corporation. Uncle Remus's begins
publication with the largest bona
fide circulation of any magazine
ever established in the history of
periodicals. It stretches from
Maine to California and the Great
Lakes to the gulf. It includes every
clast of patron, from the man on the R. F. D.
route, remote from what is called civilization, to
the- reader in the city, his, library table well
supplied with the latest periodicals. The first issue
Is already on the press and the editor of the present
Sunny South confidently assures the readers that
they can anticipate a magazine which will compare
admirably with the high class output of eastern es
tablishments. The scope of Uncle Remus’s has
been outlined too often to require reiteration. It is
to embrace the features that have made The Sunny
South a houshold favorite, though they will be
broadened so that the taste of the entire nation will
find ample fulfillment. The south of today needs
a champion in the magazine field. The daily papers
cannot discharge the full task of exploitation and
publicity.
In their hurry and bustle of preparing the diurnal
quota of news, the larger mission of forwarding the
section’s material welfare must be more or less neg
lected. This is where the magazine which Joel
Chandler Harris is to edit will be of infinite use
fulness. The south, moreover, has a picturesque
side, and one breathing traditions, which is worthy
of careful and intelligent attention. More than any
other section of the nation, it stands for the sturdy
original stock of the Anglo-Saxon race which has
been called the hope of the republic, and which is
credited with the substantial achievements which
have made America foremost in the roster of world-
powers.
This, too, will furnish a vital function to the new
magazine. That which is best and most progressive
in southern life and literature will be presented in
its pages. The editorials, by Mr. Harris, touching
a vein of optimism and mature philosophy, will be
absolutely unique in the range of American period
icals. Mr. Harris will also contribute short stories
and serials of the sort that have carried his name
to the reading public the world over.
While he is surrounded by a staff of the most
competent assistants in the current literary world,
his word wilf be the final law as to everything that
enters the pages of the magazine, inclusive even of
advertising. Writers of national and international
fame, artists who are known in this country and
Europe, will lend their best talent that the south
may produce a magazine entitled to rank with the
best of those issuing from the presses of the east.
Many of the authors that have made reputations on
The Sunny South will be retained for Uncle Re
mus’s and will continue to interest the large
clinetele they have built up on this periodical.
Foremost among these is Mary Edwards Bryan.
This gifted woman, who has wielded a pen of force
and rare sympathy since early girlhood, has charge
of a department on the new magazine very similar
to The Household, which she has made the most
She has that unusual quality of magnetism which
brings out the best in her audience, while illuminat
ing every subject into the consideration of which
she skillfully guides her readers. She is essentially of
a temeprament in tone with the policy of the new
magazine. Optimistic, believing the best of those
with whom she is brought into contact, conceding
evil only as good taking a vacation, and withal the
possessor of a graphic narrative style which clothes
with fascination each line as it comes from her pen,
we believe she is destined to mafke “The Open
House” one of the most discussed features of Uncle
Remus’s.
We bespeak for the new periodical the earnest
support of all those whose loyalty has made possi
ble the successful career of The Sunny South. They
will find their support richly repaid.
A WORD IN RETROSPECT
W HEN tte victims were brought into the
Roman arena to do battle with wild beasts,
it was the custom for them to kneel humbly be
fore the Imperator with the obsequious phrase,
“Great Caesar, we who are about to die, salute
thee!” The eidtor of the passing Sunny South
is not precisely in this frame of mind, as the last
issue goes to press, but he seizes the privi
lege of speaking one word in retrospective to"
those who have so loyally aided his endeavors on
this periodical It has been a rare pleasure to guide
the destinies of The Sunny Souitih. The responsi
bilities have been many. The rewards have been
commensurate. It has ever been the effort to pub
lish such matter as would interest the wide diver
sity of readers who have come to regard' the paper
with a sort of loving proprietory interest. Some
times that effort has been successful, as is evi
denced by many letters of commendation on file in
this office. At other times, we have been in receipt
of criticism, healthful in its shaprness, friendly in
its tone, rarely of a surly or an incurably pessimis
tic nature. The editor has come to feel a personal
interest in each one of the contributors to the peri
odical under his supervision. The bond of cor
respondence has made him many friends, none the
less genuine and helpful, for the fact that he may
never see them in the flesh. The three columns re
served for editorial expression, have afforded him
special pleasure. It has given him the opportunity,
not often taken by the conventional publication, to
push those ideas and movements too often taken
for granted and, therefore, ignored.
In those columns, he has done his feeble best to
preach the gospel of hope and of trust and of Jfetred
of scorn and pretense. He has hit a blow at hypoc
risy and deceit whenever it showed its face. He has
attempted, so far as lay within his province, to do
battle for the great cause of morality, whether it
was expressed in the sacred realm of the home, or
the no less important adjunct of public life. It has
ever been his theory that the strong as well as the
weak needed a defender. That those who often ap
pear strongest to the world, are most in need of the
world’s sympathy from the additional burdens en
tailed bv their very strength.
He ,has sought to preach, too, the doctrine of
physical right living, sunshine and fresh air, and
purity in thought and deed. It has been his effort
to show that without faith in each other, without
courage to grapple with the large and petty annoy
ances of life (and frequently the petty annoyances
are those which are the mpst hurtful.) without a hope
that the joys of the morrow would outweigh the
trials of today, life would resolve itsdf into a sor
did thing hardly worth the labor we expend in tak
ing air into our lungs.
If he has benefited any of his readers, if he has
given them a moment’s diversion, if he has helped
one man or one woman to look with clearer eyes
and firmer faith upon heaven and their fellow be
ings, this labor has not been without its reward.
And so, pardoning this descent into something
perilously near egotism, he puts a period for the
time being to the awesome and all-pervading edito
rial “we.”
The Sunny South bids its friends a cordial, grate
ful farewell!
The Story of The
Sunny South
By MART B. BRYAN.
CHILL rain is falling-; I*
is dreary for' a night in
May. I draw near the
cheerful fire. before be
ginning my last chat for
The Sunny South House
hold. It seems just as on
that night In the past
winter when 1 sat for
the last time at the
hearth 08 my old home—
in the satne place where
' I had, sat years before
rocking my baby boy—
whom I saw only at night, being in the
office all day—until he dept, then tak
ing my pen to write an editorial, story
or Household chat for (he paper—this
same paper that passes’ from me now
as my old home has passed.
The Sunny South was young then
and I had come from Louisiana full of
youthful enthusiasm to help launch
the hazardous venture. It was a fine
craft—a large, beautiful illustrated
paper—and the people, the dear South
ern people, welcomed it with pride
and determined to sustain it. But they
were poor, crushed in the struggle of
little more than a dozen years before,
and the paper was three dollars a
year, all printing material being thus
very costly, no cheap engraving meth
ods in existence and no syndicates to
supply literary matter and illustra
tions at low prices. Colonel Seals had
put his last cent in the enterprise; he
had energy, talent and magnetism, but
the “success of war” was lacking, his
coadjutators understood the situation
and gave their services for a minimum
of pay. The people entered into the
spirit of the enterprise—^as an effort
to upbuild southern literature—and the
best writers in the south sent free con
tributions. Men of professional and
official distinction wrote for the paper
and the literary standard was kept
high. Its young women agents (bright
girls from good families), in their
travels from Virginia to Mexico, were
royally treated and helped in their
work by citizens of influence. The
situation was certainly unique.
NO OTHER PUBLICATION HAS
SUCH A HISTORY.
But the fight was hard, many times
the battle seemed lost, when some un
expected help would save the day. Sal
aries were nearly nil, but the work
was inspiring—and how I did work in
those days! We wanted everything
original, but couldn’t pay for original
matter, so I wrote stories and sketches,
also letters from abroad (?) under fic
titious names, and kept a serial run
ning under an assumed title as well
as one in my own name; and wrote
sketches and stories to go with illus
trations; second hand cuts from Kng-
land or from the north. On the edi
torial staff, also, was Prof. L. L. Veaz-
ey, whose good work was almost a
labor of love. \
My enthusiasm for the paper’s suc
cess did not flag until after the deqth
of the friend who had chiefly inspired
it—Colonel Seals' devoted wife. She
was his right hand in every mechanical
detail. As head of the mailing de
partment she worked far beyond her
strength and died truly a sacrifice to
the "Cause.”
A SACRIFICE TO THE CAU8E.
When she was gone I lost interest
for a while in Tim Sunny South. It
wsls now on tX flrrfJkjppting, issipd in
| The Saving Grace of Fred’s Love j
A 4
I r LI.-- r lfa.’okAee •
For His Little Neighbor
By MAGARET A. RICHARD.
be prepared one often needs to act
immediately when one of these little
ones is ill.”
Something in his decision of manner;
in the kindness and calmness of his
voice, reassured Fred, and made him
feel that it was, perhaps, better that
the other doctors bad been away and
that Dr. Foster was th e only one to be
found that evening. When they had
reached Mrs. Morton’s home, and the
doctor had gone into tne sick room, to
the relief of every one there. Fred found
her I a place on the settee in the hall, where
motheV’s home. She had | he rested in semi-darkness. How long he
always rejoiced at 1 bad lai„ there h e scarcely knew, for
sight of him. even he had dozed and dreamed a little, and
was far on his way to dreamland again.
O WONDER that Fred
Tindal loved so well
the dimpled baby next
door. She was such a
winsome little thing,
and from the first her
heart semed to go out
to the rough laddie
who came sometimes
errands
It extends to “Uncle Remus's”
and a hearty, ringing 1 ,
“Top o’ the Momin’!”
a joyous “Hail!”
Birds and the BooRs That Have
^ ^ Been Written About Them ^ ^
By “THE MISSUS.”
EEING so many members
ara Interested in the
study of birds and ask
ing for information as
to the best books to get,
I thought perhaps 1
might lend some assist
ance by telling of the
books we have and where
they can be had, as far
as we know. Some ara
out of print and cannot
be had at any price.
Wood's Natural History
treats of all branches of the animal
world, but the birds are most of them
foreign to us and the work is rather
out of date. The price is SI.50.
"Bingley's Animal Kingd;ynih<Js also
general in its scope, but is mJKr larger
than Wood’s, and we like It much bet
ter. The author seems better posted.
The only copy I ever sa^_i found In
an old book store, and purWT&sed It for
$2.50, although It probably sold for S5
or SB. It is not on the market, to my
knowledge.
"Hawks and Owls of the United
States” is a magnificent work, put out
by tha government several years ago.
It Is out of print and cannot be had
at book stores. Fortunate indeed is
the possessor of a copy of tIUs volume,
with every species in colored plate, for
the colors and altitudes of the various
birds are the nearest correct of any
work X have ever seen.
"Birds of Michigan,” by Cooke, is a
superb little work (also out of print),
describing the birds found in that
state.
"Birds of the Northwest.” by Coves,
Is another government work much to
be prized if one is lucky enough to
get hold of s copy, long since out of
print
"Nests and Eggs of Birds of the Unit
ed States," by Gentry, is a large, ex
pensive valums (417) with Xull-pags
colored plates, but it Is far from com
plete and we do not think it worth
the price.
Too much can hardly be said of
Studer's "Birds of North America," a
very large volume showing every
known bird in North America in col
ors, with its habits, as far as known.
There are over 700 In all, and while
some are a little over-colored and
many rather small, In order to get all
In one volume, the book Is well worth
the price, MB, If one can afford It. It
gives an excellent Idea of .the birds In
their native haunts, showing 7B8 spe
cies hnd sub-species. This book was
given to me as a birthday present two
years ago. and to say it was thorough
ly appreciated is putting it mildly.
It was shipped to me direct from the
publishers and since then I’ve received
several offers from them to ship "dam
aged” ooples for SIS. The "damaged”
copies are just as serviceable as the
high priced ones, and it takes an ex
pert to tell the difference, usually. It
is published by the Natural Science As
sociation of America, 114 Fifth ave
nue, New York.
“Jordan's Manual of Vertebrate Ani
mals” is a very helpful and authentic
work describing birds, mammals, rep
tiles, etc., having a backbone. While
it is not illustrated and doesn't name
all species. It is indeed well worth
the S2, and I can heartily recommend
it to any who can classify by analy
sis.
“Cove's Key to North American
Birds.” is an exhaustive work giving
the analysis of all North Amarlcan
birds. The price, $7.50, Is only in
keeping with its good qualities, and I
heartily recommend it. We do not
have this book in our collection, and
I only mention it that those desiring
the very best of its kind may know
what to inquire for.
T iree books of which I am very
pro, d were given me by my father
years ago. -aey, too, are government
works, out of print and cannot be
had at any price. One descritfes birds,
another mammals snd the third treats
or both. Every bird is so minutely de
scribed in these, feather by feather, al
most, that there is no chance for mis
taking them.
Aside from these works we have
many smaller ones devoted to particu
lar species or families. Walter F.
Webb, 202 Westminster road, Roches
ter, N. Y., can most likely secure you
any book to be had.
We used to take several bird maga
zines and had hundreds of them on
hand, but have long since disposed of
them to dealers.
As to the bird of mystery, you are sure,
dear M. E. B., that it has no orthodox
name?. Every species of bird inhabit
ing the United States east of the Mis
sissippi has long since been hunted out
and named by scientists, and I’ll ven
ture the assertion that this is only
a common bird if it were actually
brought to light. Nearly every bird
bas some peculiar note or habit, that
changes with the season and that the
ordinary observer knows nothing
about.
Many birds cry out in the night, and
one that makes a profession of sing
ing In the night and that is seldom, if
ever, seen, owing to its sly, retreating
habits, is the yellow-breasted chat.
His notes are as rambling and varied
as tbe mockingbird's, and he has that
power of ventriloquism that leads one
on and on. for rods, searching every
bush and' brush pile, without success,
and the bird was perhaps high over
head. He is built very much like the
mockingbird, .but smaller, and utters
the queerest notes, whistling, bark
ing, cawing an£ “chatting” of perhaps
any bird, and at all hours. They were
our constant companions In the moun
tains of Arkansas, yet we rarely got
to see one. . ■
We would like a minute description
of the notes, whether loud or soft, how
many times repeated, whether It seems
a large or small bird; is it musical,
does it come from the lowlands or up
lands, or from the woods, and how
many times in one evening. It may
be familiar to us.
The raincrow does not whistle hut
utters a kind of croak at intervals
less expensive form and at a popular
price. For the first time I seriously
considered the pressing need there was
that I should better myself financially,
and I accepted an offer from a pub
lisher In New York and made that city
my home for several years, still, how
ever, keeping in touch with my old
love—The Sunny South—writing for it
whenever I could and allowing it to
reproduce my serial stories before they
appeared as books.
The paper had meantime undergone
changes. It had passed by purchase
from Colonel Seals to The Constitution
Publishing Company, and it was edited
until his death by Colonel Henry Fair-
man, then for a time by Mr. James
Holliday and Colonel Seals. When I
came to it again, “after long years,”
there was a new literary head, the
present young and able incumbent who
signs himself “the Managing Editor,”
and with whom my relations have been
congenial and pleasant.
I had other—financially better—lit
erary outlooks, but I longer for the old
familiar place with its informality and
its heart-warmth. I had myself es
tablished the Household feature of The
Sunny South a few years after the pa
per began. From the first It was I
popular department, and it soon gath
ered around it some of the brightest
intellects and some of the jolliest as
well as some of the tenderest and most
sympathetic spirits. When I left the
paper the Household passed Into the
excellent care of Miss Lizzie O. Thom
as, one of its very earliest contribu
tors. There was widespread regret
when she went as a missionary to Ja
pan. She was succeeded by Miss Jose
phine Davidson, and then by Miss Caro
line Mahoney, whose HI health obliged
her to give up the good work she was
doing. The department was nearly ex
tinct when I came to it., but a little
spark of the old-time spirit quickened
it into life and activity soon in its
scope it embraced all the southern
states and extended north into Canada
and west into the territories and Mex
ico. We have members in all of
these; also some are in South America
and the Philippines—a large family
truly—numbering nearly a thousand In
all, among them writers of ability and
research, writers with literary cul
ture, and others, all untrained, but
whose accounts of their home life, their
neighbors, their experiences as teach
ers (sometimes in the backwoods), as
working girls, or as farmers and gar
deners. were extremely interesting to
all who have broad sympathy with
their human brothers and sisters.
BISQUE OF LOBSTER.
(From The Washington Star.)
This may be made from the pickings
of the shells, saving the solid meat from
tail and claws for a lobster a la New- 1
burg for supper. -Cover the shell, claws,
etc., with two quarts of cold water to
make the foundation for the soup.
Lobster needs but little cooking after it
lias once boiled, as long cooking tough
ens. Heat two level tablespoon fuls but
ter In -a saucepan with two level table-
spoonfuls flour, cook until creamy, salt
and pepper to taste, thin with two cups
of the strained liquor, stirring smooth
ly to avoid tumps. When thickened add
the lobster pickings from the shells,
let it simmer about five minutes, add a
Continued on Last Pag*
when she was a tiny
babe, unable to do anything to ex
press her gladness other than smile
gleefully, and to wave her dimpled
arms actively to and fro. It seemed
she had learned the secret of perpet
ual motion, and was trying to prove
to Fred the fact of the discovery.
At first he turned disdainfully froip
such advances. Was Jie any sissy, he
asked himself, to be occupied with a
baby? Though her eyes always brigh
tened at sight or him. he remained
stolidly indifferent, and never lingered
In her presence longer than an errand
was done. One day, when he was alone
with her, the little rattle she held In
her hand fell tinkling to the floor, and
she puckered her lips, as if for a cry.
The boy hesitated a moment, then
stooped and picked it up.
"By Jiminy,” he thought, as he did
so, "It must be awful jest to lie on
one’s back all day, and be the same as
having no arms and no legs at all.”
Though he expressed himself thus
crudely, the helplessness of babyhood
had appealed to his heart, and there
after he was not wholly indifferent to
his next door neighbor, and even be
came in time her devoted knight-er
rant.
She laughed aloud when the coveted
toy was put into her hand, and her
soft, pink fingers, coming in contact
with Fred's, caught and held them for
a moment with that clinging grasp
peculiar to babyhood. It seemed a sort
of plea for protection, and a latent
manliness in the heart of the boy
awoke, and responded to it, as he re
solved to be henceforth her friend
Hearing Mrs. Morton’s step outside
at that moment, he had barely time to
press the baby hand in avowal of this,
and to turn hastily away when she
entered the room.
Seeing him so near the child’s cradle,
she glanced sharply at him, feeling he.
could be there only for mischief. But
the little one seemed so safe and
bright, that the mother repented of her
suspicion, though she told herself she
had reason enough to be suspicious of
the boy. She sought to make amends
for it( however, saying khuily: "She
loves you, Fred. In her you have, in
deed, an admiring-friend.”
If she had expected any expression
of appreciation form him be
cause of her baby’s devotion, she
would have been disappointed. But
she did not expect it. and was not
surprised when he -turned away with
out a word, and left the room. She
was surprised, however, when baby
turned her eyes longingly toward the
door through which he had gone, and
then, when he did not reappear, sot up
such a cry as proved her lungs in good
condition,
Fred heard, and was angry with
himself that he felt an Impulse to go
back, thus causing those tears to give
place to smiles; and to feel again, per
haps, the clinging touch of those helD-
less baby fingers But. "Pshaw."', he
exclaimed, drawing irfniself together
with a jerk. “I must be a sissy aftei
all, to think of passing away time
with a baby! Wouldn’t the boys laugh
if they knew?’’
And Just then one of “the boys’’ came
around the corner, and, catching sight
of Fred, called out; “Hello, old fellow,
we’re going after hickorlest Don’t you
want to join us?'*
Fred did. of course. What boy would
not? So, after carrying his mother a
message from her neighbor, he was
off, and thought no more of the baby
next door until coming home late that
evening he had to grope his way
through a darkened house, stumbling,
boy-fashion, over everything within
reach.
“Why, for goodness,” he asked, when
he had reached the sitting room,
"ain't there a lamp lit?”
"’Cause,” answered the tearful voice
of one of his little sisters, "mama Is
over to Mrs. Morton’s, and cook is gone
for the doctor, and we are here all by
ourselves."
Yes,” chimed in another voice, “Mrs.
Morton’s baby is very sick, and I just
believe It is going to die. Cook says
everybody is got to die some time.
Ain’t it awful t'o think about?”
Fred stood silent for a few minutes,
a feeling of awe having fallen upon
him. Never before had death come so
close to klm, and the thought that the
little one he had so lately seen well,
and rosy, was likely to die at any mo-
ment stupefied him with dread. But
not for long. Presently the resolution
to do something took possession of
him, and he asked huskily: "How long
has cook been gone?”
“Oh.” said Elsie, between sobs, “we
don’t know! It seems ever and ever
so long, and the doctor hasn’t come
yet We have been watching at the
window for him. I’m—I’m—afraid the
baby is—is—dead."
Her brother waite<j to hear no more,
but groping his way again through the
darkened hall, soon found himself in
the street, where he breathed freer,
though a great weight seemed resting
upon his heart. Tears came to his eyes
again and again, only to be dashed
away each time. He was sorry, and
was not ashamed to be sorry, that
the little eyes which had smiled at him
that morning might soon bfe closed in
death; that the little fingers, which had
clung so lovingly to his a few hours be
fore, might soon be stiff and cold. He
did not call himself a "sissy” now be
cause of his sympathy with a baby, nor
did he question within himself what “the
boys” would say if they but knew. He
knew only that h e was bent upon get
ting a physician in the house next door
as quickly as possible, which seemed,
somehow, the one thing left for a boy
to do In such an emergency. Never
mind if the cook had already started;
she was old and rheumatic and slow-
Fast as his sturdy limbs could carry
him he went to the nearest doctor's of
fice, only to be told the physician had
driven into the country. Then on again,
to meet with disappointment once, nay!—
even twice and thrice more, until he
had to think what next to do. Then he
remembered an old physician, who had
given up much of his practice, and had
moved his family to a suburban neighbor
hood. It was some distance for a boy
already tired and short of breath to go,
but Fred did not pause; he only put
forth renewed effort at thought of the
distance, and of what <».-ery moment
might mean toward the saving of a pre
cious life. And his perseverance was re
warded—for just as he reached the doc
tor's home, his buggy was being driven
Songs of the South
By PIERRE LE BEAU.
.BOUGHT up in the midst
of books, surrounded by
people of culture, heir to
the glory of the hills of
Georgia's Rome, coming
Into young womanhood
while yet the halo of
Hayne. Tlmrod and La
nier held the added lustra
of their personalities, com
ing into the estate of
young womanhood just
when she might have had
unusual opportunities for
the study of southern literary men ot
genius, Miss Jennie Thronley Clarke was
not an exception to the thousands who
..look to other parts of this broad world
when a door near him opened and closed | fQr s , M tlent _ rfect worfc
softly and voices were heard quite, ^ ^ were
close to him. , . , . . _ *
"She will do nicely now." the doctor southern poets to whom she had paid
was saying:, "though there will be, prob- ***>’ thought, and, as she frankly con-
ably, a twitching and jerking cf the mus- I fesses, the wealth and perfection of Sid-
cles during the night. It was a severe
convulsion in which I found fjer. and
you cannot expect her to get well all
at once.”
And then Mrs. Morton spoke, though
Fred scarcely recognized the voice as
hers, it was so tearful and uncertain:
“You savefi her life. Dr. Foster. No
words can thank you for it." . . , , . . , , ...
"Ah, no!” responded the man. "give ! 11 was not included in any of the anthol-
that credit, rather, to the boy who ran ! ogies, 'because they were edited on the
to me. weary and out of br ath. this ; northern side of Mason and Dixon’s line,
evening, and brought me to you in the i Then it was that she resolved to edit
nick of time. Had I been later, madam, j and publish a collection of southern
(I will tell you since the danger Is past) verse. Collection of war songs had been
your little one would scarcely have lived J,published before that, but the hymns
through the night.” -of peace had gone "Uigamered.
Though Fred did not like to be spo ® n | ^ gift for versification, a ripened cul
ture, a gentle spirit and a quickened
t o- I intellect she brought to her task. Wrtt-
ney Lanier's work was first called to her
attention during a visit to New England.
(Naturally she began to appreciate him.
In the summer of 1894 she was look
ing industriously through volume after
•volume in search of a popular southern
, lyric, but was unable to find it. and upon
l appeal to the librarian, she learned that *
to concerning his part in saving the j
child, he did not forget it. and had ever
afterward a feeling of ownership
ward the little one. It made no differ
ence now what the boys might think,
he was open in his love tor little Marie,
and was often seen taking her to ride in
her willow carriage. The fact that he
still chose for his companions those
who were known as the worst boys in
town, and that he had hand to hand
1 fights with several of them for twitting
him with his affection for his little
charge, did not seem to argue that he
was being softened by this mutual and
unusual friendship.
"By Jingo!” he said once, as be held
a boy to the ground, while Marie look
ed on, crowing with delight, as though
it was being done for her entertainment,
“Til show you I ain’t no ’nurse girl,
if i do roll a baby carriage along the
street. If I was one, could 1 lam you
like that, and that, and that?”
The under boy agreed he could not,
and his black and blue face was a
warning to his fellows to let Fred
alone ,in regard to his attention to
hat Morton baby,” as they called
her. Those who were rash enough to
twit him with it once never tried it a
second time.
Time passed on, and the little one
thrived and grew, passing successfully
through the various phases of teeth
ing and baby ills human flesh is heir
to, until she had reached and passed
her second year. At this time not
only Fred, but all who came within
the radius of her influence, bowed In
homage to the little queen. Her heart
seemed so full of love, and she was so
quick to make friends with strangers,
that even the casual passer-by was
on the lookout for her when passing
the door, and many a heart was light
ened for a day because of her smile
and baby-greeting in the morning.
Though all seemed to have a place
in her affections, the preference was
still for Fred; his was the name most
often on hei( lipfi She had long ago
learned in which direction his home
was, and, standing on tip-toe at a win
dow that faced that way, would call
“Fed” so sweetly and so persistently
that even a hard-hearted boy could
not have failed to respond, and Fred
was not hard-hearted—not so, by any
means, where she was concerned.
Though she exerted a sweet influ
ence over him, and many were heard
to say that a change for the bettei
was taking place in the boy, he had
not yet broken away fqom old habits
and old associates. One Sabtfath he
and some comrades, just at the time
when the bells were calling the peo
ple to morning service, started to the
woods to play a game of chance. Our
little hero knew it was wrong, and
heard the voice of conscience urging
him to turn back even then, but he
resisted it, and seemed as gay as his
companions. Now and again they met
groups of persons on their way to
church, and once one of the boys said
jokingly to some friends: "Pray for
the wicked this morning.” Something
in the flippancy of the voice and speech
Jarred on Fred, and his conscience
awoke anew. Just then they turned a
corner, and came almost face to face
with Mrs. Morton and little Marie.
The face of the child, when she
^caught sight of Fred, became wreathed
in smiles, and she ran forward with
outstretched hands to meet him, the
patter of her footsteps making sofi
music on the pavement as she did so.
“Mama.” she called. “ ’Ere's Fed, ’ere’f
Fed!”
Mrs. Morton laughed. “She saw you
even before I did, Fred. This will bf
her first day at church, and I’m won
dering how she’ll behave.” Then turn
ing to the little one, she called; “Come,
Marie, let us go.”
And Marie, tugging at Fred’s brown
hand, lisped; “Come, Fed, go.”
“But I cannot,” he said, stooping,
and trying gently to disengage his
hand from her grasp. “Run with mama
now.’’
“No, no.” she said, shaking her head,
and looking pleadingly Into his eyes:
“Fed—go—baby."
“But Fed cannot,” he said, ^ill gent
ly though positively. “Fed must go
with the boys. By. by.” Then he
pushed her away, hoping she would
wave "by, by" in the sweet little way
she had learned, though he saw her
lips were trembling, and her bright
eyes filled with tears.
“By, by.” he said again, and start
ed off. But Marie, instead of waving
goodby. or kissing her finger tips, as
she had been taught to do, sat on the
ground, and, bowing her little face
almost to her knees, gobbed: “Fed—
leave—baby! Baby ’ant Fed!”
It was too much for one who loved
her as Fred did, and, leaving his com
panions he came to her side and lift-
speck of cayenne and more salt. , . .
_ . . _ milk into the yard, and the gentleman stop
necessary. Put in a pint <5T warm mux. __ »„ ttw
boll up once and serve. If you like a
little lemon juice add the last thing. This
makes a quart of soup. The plstache
nuts may he purchased already salted in
the open sheHa,
pea his team, and listened kindly to the
boy's request.
“A baby ill?” he asked with real
sympathy In his voice. Then added: “I
will come at once. Jump in. my boy,
and wait until 1 get my satchel. I shall
ed her to her feet, saying; “Come on,
then, little Marie. Don’t cry."
But she had been hurt to the heart,
and even after the tears had been
wiped from her cheeks her baby breast
heaved witr dry sobs. She took .the
boy’s hand obediently, however, and
walked beside him until they had
reached and entered the church, and
then sat quietly between him and her
mother, watching, with childish inter
est, the people about them, until, over
come by weariness, she fell asleep.
lng to one or two prominent papers ask
ing the loan of old scrap books and MSS .
also being given the liberty of such pri
vate libraries as those of Colonel Park,
of Macon, and our own Uncle Remus,
her purpose soon became known, and
she was deuiged with manuscripts and
out-of-print books, which would have
been unobtainable save for the kindne-s
of the authors From sunny-shored Cal
ifornia Harry Lynden Flash, sent his lit
tle book of verse, from which she got
"ZeUicoffer" and "Whart She Brought
Me." So with many others. Buying
scores of old books with |bhe aid of deal
ers and old catalogs, sife spent a busy
teacher's well-earned rest compiling,
reading, pruning. For two years she
labored incessantly, and aided by her
mother in preparing copy for the printer,
she spent the summer of 1896 in Phila
delphia reading proof, sheets of the forth
coming “Songs of the South."
One poem poets, as wel] as prolific
ones, are represented therein. Slhe has
garnered from her wealth of material
gems almost forgotten and wholly inac
cessible to most people. I granced
through my copy as soon as I got it,
and noticed a poem I had only recently
wished for in vain—Harry S. Edwards’
“Vulture.” It is a fine original concep
tion, .but I know of no other collection
wherein the poem can be found. Harry
Flash's, Judge Blackley’s and many oth
ers’ poems are herein preserved and
made accessible to readers of small
means and leisure.
Miss Clarke, in her work, was com
pelled to 'build from the ground up.
There was nothing else of this kind
whereby to plan and 'perfect, and this
made her work doubly hard. The neces
sary information was very hard to get—
that is, the reliable, accurate informa
tion which makes the yal'll at any
biographical sketches. She pe ’severed,?
however, an<j with her indefatigable
ergiy has succeeded in supplying
book with a life sketch of each ]
which is especially helpful. The dok
indexing by authors and titles of pojj
makes it particularly convenient
reference work. So much trout}
these appendices give Miss Cla
she laughingly diagnosed it
is a severe cast of apper
glance through the index of
one Joy—one hundred and)
authors and not one unwor
in the entire 333 pages.
The reception accorded it
of the entire country was cij
the spirit In which it
many individual writers of
tatlon. Maurice Thompson.i
lamented dead, wrote her: \
book you have made, and wL
display it is of southern sonv J
min F. Meek, of the UniversiiV
bama; Charles W. Hulbner, or
and many others were unstinting
praises of the work. "We had
realized how very good was the
many of the minor southern poet ,
we turned over the pages of this j
ient collection.” wrote The
World of Boston.
“In gathering from the vast era of
literature these gems. Miss Clarke has
■ihown a ripe judgment, great energy and
i true appreciation of the rythmic har-
nonies of verse,” concluded John Shir
ley Ward in The Los Angeles Herald
n an excellent and Just review of this
vork.
“Miss Clarke,” says Joel Chandleg
Harris, in his introduction to this wo**,
"has made this collection with the in
dustry and enthusiasm that are neces
sary to the success of such an undertak
ing, and her selections have been made
with taste and Judgment.”
"It was a labor of love,” Miss Clarks
wrote me recently, "and the thanks of
lovers of southern literature are all the
reward I have received, but I am sat
isfied.” i
It is a worthy work, and It Is to be
hoped the next edition will be sufficiently
large to supply the need, unsupplied by
the first edition now wholly exhausted.
Easy Moviss.
A Hartford man tells this story of Mark
Twain;
One day a friend met the humorist on
the street. He was carrying a cigar b-'x
under his arm. Stopping Mr. Clemens,
the friend said:
“Clemens. I am afraid you’re smoking
too much.”
"Oh. it isn’t that,” explained the hu
morist; “the fact is, I’m moving again.*
JURY SERVICE.
(From The Chicago Record-Herald.)
There is one man serving on the petit
jury at present who has learned by bit
ter experience that there is often much
to be g'alned by merely bolding one's
tongue.
On the evening of the day on which
the notice was served, he foolishly told
his wife that he would be a juryman
for three weeks, that he would receive
S2 per day, and SI per day for mileage.
Some one told him that, and he believed
He said that he would give her
that money for her new spring suit,
and the delighted lady went down town
next day and selected it. She gave him
glowing descriptions of it every night at
dinner, and also hinted that she would
j need a new hat to go with It.
Yesterday he discovered that instead
of three weeks' service, only two would
be required, that Saturdays are not In
cluded, and that he would receive *1
for mileage for the first day only. He
explained aill this to his wife, telling
her that, of course, he could give her
only S2I Instead of the $54 which he had
expected.
But she refused to see it his way. She
says that he promised her $54. that she
has practically expended that amount,
and that* he has got to make good.
So the poor fellow is $33 out. and he
bitterly regrets the day that his name
was drawn from the wheel.