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w^W'"A >^RO > S’W^ii^ , Wrth w I J 1 * 5 a■■ J w> 'W ; T J fl ■ J flfl ■ B B KI <a fl B ffl K ■ fl ■ Z K B Jfl fl fl fl B fl I b A fl fl ffl fl fl fl K Z K Jfl f fl > B - Isl Isl fl Jfl I B fl ■ B ■ Z K Jfl J B B lfl Isl Isl WKI w fl Jfl f B B■ fl Isl a fl * flk* -fl - f fl *fl I fls fl* fljfl fl W * Si g fl f I Isl fli ■f W B ■ IW 1 f~B I B fl B ■ B B I W fl ■ B B *'•F*''l J"B I 1 ■ 118 B ■ 818 ... ■• i'Ojprt L’— T. L. MITCHELL, Publisher. Vol. 15—No. 2. For Woman’s Work. Si SOW’S . it? IT ET me but feel thy kiss, Love, thou wert ever mine L<7 And with supernal bliss By a decree divine, My soul doth £>low! Immutable; Let me look in thine eyes, Thee have I ever known jl And in their depths surmise In love’s strange way alone, * SO That I would know! Inscrutable! SO Ahl Close within thine arms AB AKh ° f 6h tht T6hl- What then are life s alarms, To lidht divine! ' What then its rearsr T 3 T , ,T -ii T , K * _. Be what thou wilt, but be a To feel thy dear caress Ever and all for x Is all my hopes to bless, Mine onl „ mine! Sli And all my tears! Bertha Hoyt Stewart. & sb sb sb sb <b sb sb sb sb For Woman’s Work. I DON’T see why Lizzie doesn’t mar ry!” said Mrs. Flyndt, speaking of her niece. “She’s old enough, and good—good as a girl can be. There’s not another girl in this town who knows better how to do all kinds of housework, and not another one who does so much for her own folks. All the children love her. She is healthy and happy. She may not have what everybody would call a pretty face, but it fairly glistens with good nature. Why some smart fellow doesn’t love her is more than I can make out.” “So far as we know she never had a beau in her life, did she?” asked her next door neighbor, Mrs. Bearden. They were talking over the low fence that separated their yards. Lizzie Flyndt had just passed by, rolling her sister’s baby in its carriage. She had promised her sister to wait for her at the street corner near the residences of Mesdanies Flyndt and Bearden. Un aware that she was to be a subject for their conversation, she stopped as she had promised. The corner was out of sight, but within plain hearing of the low fence. “Not one!” replied Mrs. Flyndt. “The reason must be that she’s too re ligious,” said Mrs. Bearden. “She reads a chapter in her Bible every day, regular ly, my girls tell me. One day they were all discussing what they’d read. Lily said, ‘l’ve finished East Lynne. It’s LIZZIE'S MARRIAGE. LOVE IS THE ESSENCE OF ALL THAT IS GOOD, THE SPIRIT OF ALL THAT IS ENDURING. ATHENS, GEORGIA, FEBRUARY, 1902. just grand.’ Grace said, ‘l’ve begun David Harum. Isn’t he great!’ Alice said, ‘l’m in the middle of Lucile. She’s perfectly splendid.’ Then Lizzie spoke up and said, as serious as a saint, ‘l’m reading John now. He’s positively su perb.’ ” “I guess it’s that, that stakes her so good; but still, it doesn’t look as if just that would keep her from being popular with intelligent young men,” said Mrs. Flyndt. “Well, then, maybe she just doesn’t intend to marry, and won’t encourage any one. A girl has to encourage a man a little before he thinks she is attractive, you know.” “For one thing, Lizzie is a little bash ful, I think,” said Mrs. Flyndt. “Not in religious matters,” said Mrs. Bearden. “There’s not a more self possessed young person in class meet ing, and everybody says she is the very life of the Young People’s meetings, and she offers as good a prayer as the preacher himself, on prayer-meeting nights. My land, though, but that preacher is a likely fellow—the best one we’ve had since I came to the town. Speaking of marrying, it’s a pity our preacher should be a single man, and all that big parsonage empty.” “Well, I reckon fate decreed that some people should not marry,” sighed Mrs. Flyndt “I declare I must hurry back to the kitchen or the biscuits will be burnt to a crust.” All this time Lizzie was standing help- lessly at the corner, listening. There was nothing else to do. Had she moved away, the shrubbery along the sidewalk would have hidden her from her sister’s view. She had tried a few coughs, loud and warning, but they sounded too strained and silly, so she stopped. Be sides, she feared to wake the baby. Some one else came up just then —the young pastor—and he heard the conver sation also. It was too loud and inter esting to be ignored, he had said with a silencing gesture when she started, in desperation, to call aloud to her aunt. “Really, I am glad of this,” he said softly, when the voices ceased. Lizzie blushed and shook her hand kerchief at a stray fly on the baby’s forehead. She wondered what he would think of the equivocal “reading John.” “Our friends over the fence appear to be worrying,” he continued, in a voice scarcely above a whisper; “and. Miss Lizzie, do you know that I also have been worrying about that very thing? That is, I’ve been divided between two worries; the one lest you should marry, the other lest you would not. You see, it would be all right, if you do not choose the wrong man.” There was a pause. Lizzie nervously rolled the baby carriage to and fro, and looked anywhere but towards the young man’s face. His searching eyes were bent on hers. She gave a little laugh. “Any choice might be amiss. Sister Nell is a long time coming.” The first sentence was somewhat obscure, but the latter was undisguisedly anxious. “I think I am the right man,” pur sued the pastor, earnestly. “I offer my self to you, here and now, Miss Lizzie. Didn’t they say something about you reading John, and finding him superb? KATE GARLAND, Editress. 50 Cts. per Year. Perhaps —at any rate, you know that my name is John. Read me, try me, take me, please.” Lizzie looked the picture of confusion. But she did not refuse promptly, and her wooer took courage. She listened, though with evident embarrassment, and the listening gave him hope. “Lizzie —Lizzie, I love you. I have been loving you all the time I’ve known you. but you gave me no chance to tell it or to show it, and there’s no knowing when I could have found courage in the face of your coldness, if our good sisters Flyndt and Bearden had not ‘broken the ice’ and ‘plunged us both into deep water.’ ” He paused to take breath, and Lizzie smiled. “Give me some encouragement,” pleaded the pastor. “Give me yourself. You are smiling, I don’t know whether you are making fun of me or not, and I don’t care—if only you’ll promise to marry me. Place your life in my keep ing. and I’ll prove myself the right man for you by a life of devoted, loving ser vice. Let me call on you—this after noon, to-night, when? 1 may call ” “To-morrow, then; in the morning,” she assented softly. “Thank you!” he ejaculated fervent ly. “And I thank God!” he added rev erently, under his breath. Lizzie’s sister appeared at that mo ment, and Lizzie made haste to join her. A few months later, the parsonage was cheery with its new furnishings and its happy young mistress. “I always said Lizzie would marry well when she did marry,” said Mrs. Flyndt to her next door neighbor. “Andso did I, you remember,” echoed Mrs. Bearden. Kate W. Searcy.