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I- - x * .WOMAOORKfi ■ ■ Pr 35r A 4 kk ; ■ » Entered at Second-Class Postage Rates. K JOURNAL OF LITERATURE AND DOMESTIC SCIENCE. PUBLISHED MONTHLY. Edited by KATE GARLAND, ASSISTED BY THE BEST TALENT Kubaerlptionx and all businew communications must be addressed to T. L. Mitchell, Athena, Ga. Subscription Price, 50 cents a year, strictly in advance. Remit by money order or postal note. If these cannot be procured, one or two cent stamps will be accepted. Expiration*.— Woman’s Work is promptly dis continued at expiration of time paid for. We do not take advantage of the law which enables publishers to continue papers, and collect for same, until notified to stop sending. Please renew promptly when your time is out. Write name plainly and state number with which you desire subscription to commence. Give full address in every letter. To change post-office address the old as well as new office must be stated. Sample copies.— ls yon are not a subscriber to Woman’s Wobk. and a copy reaches you, please examine it carefully and forward price for one year. Miasing copies.— Woman’s Work is very care fully mailed, but many papers are lost in transit. When a number fails to reach you, after waitings reasonable length of time, please notify by postal. Premiums.— The price of Woman’s Wobk is too small to allow any premium. However we make a liberal offer of books to svbscbibkes who will send others. See notice elsewhere. Athens, Ga., Dec., 1890. Once more we are approaching the close of a year! A year which was ushered in with almost spring-like warmth and beauty, and which has brought blessings in abundance. 1 fear we never pause to think just how great are our blessings. We couldn’t real ize their magnitude, should we try. Os course we have our troubles ; of course our hopes are often but productive of ashes, when we looked for bright wreaths of suc cess exhaling the sweet odors of content ment. We think of these disappointed dreams; they cling close to us and their shadows fall about us. Our eyes are prone to dwell upon these dark places, and we look not up to the rays of sunshine and smiles of peace, which beam upon us unacknowledged, un perceived. We endeavor to shut our hearts, lest trouble should enter therein, — and, as a result, many of earth’s sweetest offerings knock in vain for admittance. Why will we thus keep our minds and hearts on darkness, when happiness is the reward of looking up? Why do we lock out the sunshine, lest a shower should one day come ? Why will we turn a deaf ear to the appeals of distress about us, when every act of charitable kindness makes two hearts glad—and ’tie difficult to tell whether the giver or receiver is most uplifted. “In as much as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.” I wonder if any of us have stopped to think of the full significance of Christmas! I wonder if we could ever realize it, if we tried! Think of the indescribable suf ferings and self-sacrifices which gave us this glad season ! Study the Character— the one spotless character—which it com memorates. Think how, for these long centuries, it has been observed as a time for joy and thanksgiving, and making glad. Go back to your own innocent childhood days and remember how your eyes bright ened and your heart thrilled, at mention of Christmas. How long it seemed in coming | What would it bring ? And when at last it was known that “to-morrow” would be Christmas, how eagerly the little stocking would be placed where good old Santa Claus would be sure to find it I And then you must hurry to bed, for who could sleep late on Christmas morn ! But, reluctantly would those little eyes close. Almost you were persuaded to stay awake until old St. Nicholas descended the chimney flue, and est the prizes so dear to the childish heart. But nature is top Hn<J to innocents to give them sleepless nights, and soon the treasures of Christmas time are spread before your gaze—but ’tis in dreamland. How old Santa Claus is filling that stocking ! Why, it is just running over, and he has to put a lot of things on the floor, but so closely that there is no mis taking who he intends them for. Isn’t it strange that you were never afraid for old Saint Nich. to come into your room, when the thought of any one else would bring trembling fright? No; for he had been coming every year and had never harmed you. He was a friend, because he had always acted the part of a friend— brought joy to your expectant heart. How much do you do every Christmas to brighten lives about you ? Every little one has the longings which you once knew, but many of them live on side streets and in diminutive houses which Santa Claus can not visit. Wouldn’t you be thrice repaid —yea an hundred fold—for gladdening these shadowed lives ? Try it. Perhaps you do not feel able. Hasn’t God blessed you with more than many others enjoy? Then divide with them. The seeds thus sown will usually yield a rich harvest—the very sowing is a recompense. You know of none who are naked, but of many who are not warmly clad ; of few who are suf fering for bread, but of many who never see a tempting dish. Suppose you supply them. Think you they will not feel thank ful ? Think you that the deed will not be blessed ? Perhaps you know a man who thinks that his brain must be fired by alcohol because ’tis Christmas-time. Treat him not harshly, but kindly. Tell him how it hurts you that this sacred time should be spent in drunken revelry. Tell him how the faces of that .wife and those children will be made to smile, and their hearts to give thanks, if he will spend his money for pleasures which all can enjoy, and go to his loved ones in a condition to share the home delights. Let it be said of you: “She hath done what she could” towards bringing light where there was darkness— joy where there was sadness. To one and all I hope that this may be not only a merry Christmas, but a blessed Christmas; that the close of this year’s record may be crowned with flowers from which the thorns are absent. A Christmas number of Woman’s Work without Mrs. Miller's department! Too bad isn’t it ? I think so, and know that all will be disappointed ; but then, these mat ters cannot always be avoided. Mrs. Mil ler, you know, lives a long way off—but not so far as to have no troubles to inter fere with good wishes and intentions. Per haps she has much more to engage her mind,heart and hands, just now,than most of us—for she is up in Dakota, where the brave and treacherous red man is threatening the safety of his pale-faced brother. When circumstances will allow, I doubt not that our good friend will have much to tell us of her experiences and thoughts. Hers is a busy life, even when surroundings are all serene—and I was sorry when one of her kind notes told me of the moving Indians near her, of a house-moving which they were having, and of many duties and per plexities which were falling to her lot. But I don’t think her good nature and sweet temper had been changed. What a bless ing is a cheerful, happy heart!—the result of a wise head. Mrs. Miller, in her modesty, suggested that I substitute extracts this month; but where could I “copy” her department? I’d rather wait for the return of the absent. The pleasure of presenting to our read ers a picture of Mrs. S. C. Hazlett Bevis, is one which we have desired for quite a long while. Once before, it was almost realized—but a merciless fire destroyed the office wherein the cut of her portrait was resting, and no more has been seen of that cut! But, thanks to the art of reproducing features on metal, we have received anoth er—which is given elsewhere, in connec tion with that author’s highly valued con- tributions to this issue. Os the picture, we cannot say how true a likeness it may be, as the original has never charmed us by her presence—but they who can speak advisedly say, that the depths of those eyes, the impressiveness of those smiles, the soul ful expression of that face—cannot be imi tated. We know Mrs. Bevis—our readers know her—by the beautiful and pathetic articles with which we have been favored from time to time. In them we perceive the generous, sympathetic and touching im pulses of a noble soul. In them there is a vein of tender sadness, which clearly shows they were prompted by a true charity for those who err or suffer in this world. We recently made mention, on this page, of a handsome little volume of poems—collected from those which have been written by Mrs. Bevis. We feel sure that many of our friends will prize these—both for their poetic merit and for the love which they feel for the author. At the close of the year, it is well to look back and see what has been accomplished. I have no boasts to make for Woman’s Work. It is giving pleasure and doing good in many homes, to judge from the letters of appreciation which reach me. It has made many new friends and nearly all our old ones are still with us. To these is largely due the credit for the high position which our paper occupies in public favor— to these will be largely due the praise for improvements which may be noticed from time to time. Have you thought of some feature, which, in your opinion, should be added to Woman’s Work? If so, I invite you to write your views fully. No one connected with our work, claims to know too much for suggestions to be welcome. I heartily join a lady who recently wrote : “I hope every friend of Woman’s Work will aid in continuing its originality—in making it as different from, and as far su perior to other periodicals as possible.” To each and all, I once more extend my thanks for your favors, and invite you to our columns. May your every commend able effort be rewarded, during this holiday season and at all seasons. It is difficult to say which is the greater defect in a parent—strictness and firmness in his family, without feeling and affection, or feeling and affection without strictness and firmness. Under the one bad system the children are apt to become slaves or hypocrites; under the other tyrants or reb els. But true love is always firm, and true firmness is always love. CONSUMPTION CURED. An old physician, retired from practice, had placed in his hands by an East India missionary, the formula of a simple vege table remedy for the speedy and permanent cure of Consumption, Bronchitis, Catarrh, Asthma and all Throat and Lung Affec tions ; also a positive and radical cure for Nervous Debility and all Nervous Com plaints. Having tested its wonderful cura tive powers in thousands of cases, and desiring to relieve human suffering, I will send free of charge to all who wish it, this recipe in German, French or English, with full directions for preparing and using. Sent by mail, by addressing with stamp, naming this paper, W. A. Noyes, 280 Powers' Block, Rochester, N. K THE BEST WAY To secure good agencies of everything going, is to send 10 cents to the Agents’ Record and have your name and address inserted therein. You will then get letters and circulars from all portions of the country, making you good business offers. Address, Agents’ Record, Box 42, Atlanta, Ga. | WEDDING INVITATIONS. Elegant and correct styles of Wedding Invitations are furnished by the Consti tution Job Oeeice, Atlanta, Georgia, Samples are expensive, and will be sent upon receipt of 25 cents. There is no beautifier like the wish to scatter joy not pain around us,— Emerson. anil Sfrls. For Woman’s Work 1I IL J HE CAPTAIN’S STORY. A TRUE INCIDENT. “Out of the strong came forth sweetness.'’ were dull times up at Ca a Apache—nothing' stirring. Not e, cowardly red skin had skipped h reservation for months, and this little post was fast going to sleep up there among the hills. A body had to pinch himself now and then to see if he were awake, and many a prayer went forth out of profane lips for “just a little brush with the injuns, if only to stir a fellow up a bit!” But for dress parade, our swords might have rusted in the scabbards; and a sudden onslaught from the savages might have found our muskets charged—not with pow der, but with the dust of ages I Matters had about reached the last pass, and the soldiers threatened to make war upon one another if some common foe were not fur nished them speedily. If there is anything in life like a “painted ship upon a painted ocean” it is the pomp and circumstance of glorious war, during times of inglorious (?) peace! As I was saying, we were on the verge of an enchanted sleep, up there in the ratified atmosphere of Jhe Rockies; but our Prince Charming finally came one day. He came in the guise of a cowboy, who demanded an immediate interview with the commanding officer. It was then we learned that something was up what—nobody knew, nobody cared, so long as there was a scout going out, and each man hoped it might be his turn, That the detail would go according to ros ter, every one knew well enough, but there was frequently chance for exchange, and each officer vied with the other to show his disinterestedness in offering “to take this detail.” It was just at dusk that the news went abroad, and I was returning from the corrals when I noticed the gathering about the office, and joined it to inquire the cause. There was much loud talking and eager questioning in the group collected there, but I could gather nothing relative to the coming expedition, for every one talked at once—asking questions that no one seemed able to answer. Pretty soon the adjutant sallied forth, looking business-like and important, and immediately the nature of his orders was made known. Oh I the disgust and disappointment de picted on the faces of that little group. The discontent and apathy deposing the whilom eagerness that had so briefly usurped their own accustomed throne! How they scatter, these disgruntled soldiers, with execrations, to their sleeping quarters! there to grunt and mope, as is their wont —when it is known that only a handful of scouts is going out to a ranch, in the valley near by, on some peace errand ! Not caring to face the torrent of oaths and maledictions in which I knew the dis concerted soldiery were wont to vent their grievances down at the quarters, I loitered about the office for a time, intending to await the adjutant’s leisure, in order to in quire into the particulars concerning the sortie. I learned that the cowboy had reported a little child as lost from a ranch twelve miles out, and that the commanding officer had immediately ordered out the scouts to assist in the search for him. “Great God I” I exclaimed, on receiving this intelligence. “A little child astray at night, in this devil-infested region ! ” After quitting the office, I wandered about the deserted parade, unable to with draw my thoughts from the little wanderer, whom I knew to be enduring untold ills, wherever he might be. Through persistent dwelling upon the matter, I began to weave, from the bare facts of the adjutant’s statement, a little romance, involving aU the details of the