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Will IW f Will jW 1 i J fflT> Ail II r- : fA| 11 ■ tJI iff» ink. -J”"* W mnAM n w mX ;&r rww ’w aJwLv T. L. MITCHELL, Publisher. Vol. 6 —No. 6. 4eeeeooeMe0o«uoo0«a0eo»e0oeoeo«MMM«<i«>Mioeoeooeoo«>ooee0o««M0eoo<>«oooooe0oe«eoo». m ' ' ‘~ 'J. 7*rf; V” ' ' ■5 . F ;'•'F.* ' "■•'■'■' ''’ W" '*' Sv A -L ,; ' 5 ■- > •■, - : 4 > . ■. v te ■ ■■ : JRISr :; Y W WF- -. t. '- /V *W?j" W- * ~*BrWvA. <xwwß3» ■ A fcWtaMMMMMSy- WiaMBMM a jjWjgte* WWp SbMk, **7 rT <■.■■.>, - -w • nMiMi • - - • < -' 5 . ’«* Jr HHBBww w V.. • ' > ■■■ CWF : ■'. f' HI : / • ! - - ■■ ’■ H HhHK ■- 4 i I > : I For Woman’s Work. THE GIRL I LOVED. BY SHILOH PAYNE LANGFORD. was a quaint, sweet-faced old ()M man ’ and we all loved him for the v good deeds he was always doing in his quiet way. Though he was bent and wrinkled, there was a look in his face as of perennial youth; a sort of glory, reflected from a romance of his early man hood, shone round him and clung to him; what it was we did not know. But one day, alter a short illness, he passed away, anr) after we had laid him away to rest ATHENS, GEORGIA, JUNE, 1893. we found among his papers his life’s story, as he had written it not long before death called him. “‘A song for the girl I love— God love her!’ So thought 1 one fair June morning as I stood with my love in the deep bay window. Behind us the cool shaded rooms; in the back parlor some one was playing a sad, weird march, which sent a thrill of horror through me at the time. Before us lay the world, with its warm sunshine, its emerald flower-strewn carpet, its trees full of singing birds; and up, up, above all, the blue sky, with white clouds like angel-boats sailing across it. Around us were the lace draperies, shutting us in; just “we two, and w« two for aye.” Or; “WHILE I BREATHE, I HOPE, I WORK.” my love’s breast a great knot of violets, whose dainty, sweet perfume filled the window. Just the scent of a violet brings the past, that sacred love-past of my youth, all back to me. And there rises before my dim old eyes a vision of my fair, sweet love, with her wine-brown eyes, golden hair, and red, curved lips, as she looked that day. And then there appears another vision, of a day which followed after—a day on which we had set high hopes—the day on which our two lives were to merge into one channel. The day came, but it saw our high hopes laid low, even to the very dust. In the lace draped window stood a white casket, and In this aatin-lined nest my dear little love, with her white oil! bridal robes round KATE GARLAND, Editress. her, and violets strewn from head to foot. In life she loved them so. Though I am old and bent and wrinkled, the an guish that filled my heart that day in my youth has never left it. It has been my daily and hourly companion. It went to bed with me at night, and rose with me in the morning. And like the Jews of captivity kneeling with their faces to ward Jerusalem, I knelt each day with my face toward Heaven, where all my hopes were set, and prayed that I might at length reach that haven, and be with my love again. •The lilies dead lon her sweet dead breast—» The girl J loved God love her.'” 50 Cts, per Year.