Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

yn- i »itig [ | fIMB^TWfTWTTTTjTf^KTTWrr I ™*! LdWIuBHU mlllnlWillll c= ) iM/^ f wfiTi fiiy&lllfil •] MI " i I rwTOWSIVIIJ id W sB i B hJIg ffi « QP* i^"*™j^SgagWmi =,,*”!. = 1 . z—'>u '’ r /i . -'r' ? '- ■■ ■U' sS^^r —~~. — J lt=l (ol j] rg] E=S = \ / /zc<\ /1./} a \,<- ! r ~i = I L - J III ——l L=J = T. L. MITCHELL, Proprietor. Vol. 2. —No. 3.] For Woman’s Work. LIFE’S CONTRASTS. BY ALICE WILLIAMS BROTHERTON. No one life to joy is given, Only, or to sadness: Fate with careful balanced scale Weighs out grief and gladness, If it were not for the thorns Set among the roses, Careless hands would nip the stalk Ere the bud Uncloses. If it were not for theclouds With the asure blended. We should tire of heat and glare Ere the day w’ere ended. Everything a brighter hue From the contrast bor rows ; We should miss one-half our joys If we had no sorrows! For Woman’s Work, MEDEA. iliil.EN C. MOLLOY. In mythology a heartless sorceress,’in history a pas sionate, revengeful woman —Medea is given as the einbodimei t of what is most feared and least con doned in the sex. Our artist finely con ceives’ and portrays the fierce hatred, the bitter revenge, the sublime strength, the magnificent beauty of this character. When stirred to her profoundest depths, woman is ever grand. Let her love burn to ashes, and a loathing hate mount guard at the shrine where all has been sacrificed, lest there should be a resurrection of what is dead; let all hope be lost, and a wronged woman left who did not lose her strength with her love and hope—then a Medea will rise in her wrath and vengeance. Emelie Rives has given us a creature of this type ; Mariamne—scorned, per secuted, distrusted—meas ures her hate in its intensi ty by the love that lived, and is dead. Medea-like she stands in the grandeur of her physical beauty and the strength of her wrongs, and hurls at her king and husband this bitter invec tive:— “May everything that hath on every world Since the creation died, be resurrected To curse thee with a separate curse. Oh, demon, Thou’st found the core of sin and eaten it. What! thou wouldst curse me? am I not accursed Sufficiently in having been thy wife? Be thou accursed, Herod, accursed Beyond my utmost knowl edge of a curse. Forget that I once loved thee. Recollect My hatred only. Thirst; thou shalt have blood ; Thou shalt not eat, but be thyself devoured. Cry out to heaven, and thy prayers, rebounding. Shall hurl thee into hell; while death to thee Shall be one dream of life most horrid I ” But in this, the highest type of the pas sion-queen known to the histrionic art, is not the conception of the grandest of hu man possibilities lost? A character which can be swayed by the passions of hatred and revenge, as a sturdy oak of the forest by the mightv wind of heaven, has only the strength that belongs to animal life; it may reach the height of a tragical expression of these passions and still fallshortoftruegrandeur. Sucbis the Medea-type— grand, but only humanly so. When she has reached this point—shaken to the foundation of her being; rocked by the surging, tempestuous passions that can ha .. -. J 7 . F - ; # i'AW ■ ’>■( wHHI *•’ •y.awd OMWMWfrBBwy- -fIBBBB E.ft’’ ..rflßfl J9e ,’rs ■'■ L-u- \ ’’ ‘ 4u ■ - u-' ad ./Blw ft-Vi*- a : J ■’’* *■ ••'SsßlK’* JBB z --v'' ,l . s : - 'J r : < u *■ ■ *. '8 Jn ■ a: - / I t H .:.. J - JET.-/; jo-’-'-#' y' silt MpHoM ; f /jQL—lol. B /rKll W l&w wH, JL' fl lflBaB.#! . iMra >. : aW /wßsir Bw ' ■. JLwy. JS . ||. . NLMwjF** .18. -. >8 w ---wytt. jßkmS * jJfrMjWBKBfc w:/. -aw HKL. wi®B ' r * X ' :. . -a.::a of ,JU . - tMHE B WrfTnBII aw||®ar al BBK Mi only find their height and depth in woman nature; robbed of faith; mace desolate and desperate by a love that is wronged, a heart that is trampled upon, a joy that is shatter ed—if then she can gather a strength that is almost super human and with a will that is strong only as her life, put self from her, sheath the dagger of vengeance when the power is in her hand to mete out justice, ADMIRE THE BEAUTIFUL-LOVE THE GOOD. ATHENS, GEORGIA, FEBRUARY, 1889. and instead bestow forgiveness— then does she rise above all that is base; then is she grand; lhen is she as near God-like as a human can gr<>w. A Medea shows the fearful grandeur of what is human in nature; she who can for give, exhibits the sublimity of the Divine in humanity. A medea degenerates into a base criminal when she relentlessly plunges the dagger into the victim brought to her feet. But if the shadow of contemplated sin be lifted from her brow ; if the stern lips relax, the eyes soften in their grim resolve, the clinch ed fingers loosen from the dagger’s hilt— letting it fall unheeded —and instead of cold steel, the warm hand of forgiveness is ex- 'SO Cts. per Year. tended to the enemy in her power, then is she exalted from the lowest depths of the fallen angels to the highest pinnacle of hu man greatness. Thi» is the grandest char acter to be conceived—the strength, the spirit of a Medea; the forgiveness and mer cy of a Deity. Revenge leaves her a fallen, sin-stained creature; forgiveness trans forms her, as if by purify ing fires, into something a-kin to angels. For Woman’s W’ork. LAND OF MY DREAMS. LILLIE SHELDON. There’s a land that to me is fair and bright, Where my spirit oft’ dwells in sweet delight; Where life is love, and love is truth, And age is more beautiful far than youth. Where the turmoil and strife of the mad world cease And are buried deep ’neath the waves of peace. There all around me is what it seems, — 'Tis the ever bright land of my golden dreams. There no cloud is so dark but the sun shines through, And Hope’s crushed flowers their bloom renew, There the heart forgets it can ache with pain, And our faith in the world comes back again. There shame cannot come with it’s hideous blight, But is washed away in the waves of light’— The fair light of purity that ever beams In the beautiful land of my cherished dreams. There are friends that I love in that far off land, Whose hearts are brave— whose lives are grand; I have crowned them there with a glory of light, As princes of honor, as kings of right. And my soul by error is there ne’er stained But reaches the Heights of the Unattained; A d fair as the dew drops in morning’s first beams Is my own bitter life in the land of my dreams. Our lives are songs. God writes the words, Andjwe set them to music at pleasure; And the songs grow glad or sweet or sad As we chance to fashion the measure. We must write the music, whatever the song, Whatever the rhyme or meter; And if it is sad, we can make it glad; Or if sweet, we can make it sweeter. The praises of others may be of use in teaching us not what we are, but what we ought to be. > 1 . i Os all lessons, the best is the living les son. KATE GARLAND, Editress.