Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

ATLANTA, GA., SATURDAY, APRIL 17, 1875. MARI E. RRYAN, ... Editress. Our Ideai Maiden and Model Wife. Time and again have we been asked to describe our “ideal of woman,” onr “model wife,” “model maiden,” etc. It is a difficult thing to do. There are as many types of women as of flowers, and who shall say that the rose is more admirable than the lily, or the carnation than the jessamine ? But then it is permitted to give one’s own individual preferences—for what they are worth; and we confess that our taste is for a sweet woman—not one of the eternally smiling, sugary sort. They are flat, stale and uninter esting” in the outset, and are apt, like most over-sweet things, to turn sour by standing, and become acidous old maids or shrewish wives. No, our “sweet woman ” is bright, and cheerful, and sympathetic, but with a dash of humor and independence about her — an airy, graceful sprightliness, like Shakspeare’s Rosalind. She does not burst on you full-blown, with every charm and virtue displayed at once, but wins upon you gradually, opening leaf by leaf like the English rose, with always some inmost curled and hidden leaves—some sweet and shy reserve that never opens except to the touch of sacredest love and friendship. She “ Gives a warm baud to her friends, and a smile Like a generous lady, now and a while, But the sanctuary heart that one may win Keeps holiest of holies ever more; The crowd in the aisles may watch the door, The high priest only enters in.” That is our model maiden; as for the model wife-, she is but the perfect efflorescence of our English bud. Here is her full-length portrait: “The true woman and true wife is pure with out being prudish; her virtue is not the result of training, but the direct gift of God. She is in nocent and unsuspicious, and it never enters her heart to imagine that others are not as herself. ‘ To the pure all things are pure. ’ But her heart" is tender and merciful. When she hears of vice—which she seldom does—she is pitiful— very pitiful. Her nature does not partake of the just judge who condemns, but of the divine Sa viour’s, who pleads for criminals before the awful throne. She weeps tears of sorrow that sin has been committed, and would be glad if she could bring the sinner from darkness to light. Mean while she never thinks of evil unless it is thrust upon her sight. All her paths, if not strewn with roses, are at least free from weeds. Her sky is always blue and the light of heaven visi ble. She does not sit in judgment on the actions of her friends, whom she believes to be all good and true. Her children are not trammeled and fettered; she believes in them and their good ness. She does not dream of ruling her hus band; on the contrary, his wishes have always been her laws, and she lias known them so long that every little cranny and crank of his charac ter is familiar to her, and she lovingly cares that no irritating element shall disturb him. On his side, he repays her goodness by unbounded ten derness and a happiness always regained in the atmosphere .of home. “She sees no impropriety in a merry cheerful ness or in playful familiarities. She rather en- , courages the visits of friends and young friends of both sexes. She enjoys and herself excels in bandinage. She is the soul of hospitality and her easy manners set her guests at ease. She is gen erally clever, always large-minded and often ac complished. Naturally and without vanity she displays her own and her children’s talents, and calls out all those of her guests; jealousy on such matters never enters her thoughts. With her, as with the British jury, every one is innocent until proved guilty. Yet she would shun contact with aught that was wrong as the ermine which will lose its life rather than soil its pure white fur.” Book Notices. The most fascinating book we have read for a long while is Mr. Hardy’s novel, “Far from the Madding Crowd.” It is full of strong, sustained power; the cliarcters are boldly drawn; the style j pure, forcible English. We have only one fault to find—the same fault we perceive in “Middle- march,”—the characters do not take hold of onr sympathy sufficiently. We do not enter into their feelings, their lives, as it is the province of the novelist to make us do. But the narrative is absorbing. In direct contrast to Mr. Hardy's book is "Mistress Judith—A Cambridgeshire Story,” by Frazer Tvtler. It is a charming story, though short and unpretentious, with simple village folks for dramatis persona’ and the tamest and flattest of scenery as a setting. But it is a re freshing contrast to the present spasmodic, fever ish style of novel-writing. It is a lovely idyl of village life, with a plot carefully carried out and characters that assume reality and engage our warmest sympotliv. “The Woman of Fire," one of Adolphe Belot's vivid and highly-wrought romances. It is for sale by Phillips A Crew. “Longevity, or the Means of Prolonging Life after Middle Age.” A book showing much re search and practical observation, full of valuable hints on the all-important subjects of prolonging life and preserving health. It contains much physiological information and will well repay perusal. At some other time, we will give some interesting extracts from this work. It is for sale at the large and attractive book-store of Phillips A Crew, comer of Peachtree and Mari etta streets. Southern Scenery and I.orations. Notwithstanding that emigration and increased facilities for traveling have given to people at a distance a better idea of the rich resources of the South in respect to scenery and to locations for health and pleasure, there still remain many beautiful spots unvisited by the ordinary tour ist—many admirable sites for watering place improvements and health resorts which have been almost wholly overlooked. Middle Flor ida, for instance, as compared with other por tions of the State, seems rather neglected by art ists, pleasure tourists, scientists and speculative capitalists. And yet all these would there find grand materials for the exercise of their taste, talents and money. Even the wonderfully unique beauty of “Wakullah Spring ” is com paratively little known, though no Italian scenery can surpass that lake of crystal clear ness and untold depth which, when stirred by a touch, breaks into a thousand prismatic colors as though it were the nether heaven which held all the rainbows that had glittered since the flood. The curious geological formation around this lake—in whose vicinity were found some of the most gigantic fossil remains—should of itself draw men of science to the spot. Not far from Wakullah Lake is the once pretty town of Newport, situated on the St. Mark’s river, and but two miles from the bay terminus of a railroad that in a few hours takes one to Tallahassee, the capital of the State. Here, in Newport, are mineral springs said to be supe rior to those of Saratoga, and yet, when we vis ited this town a few years ago, we found it a wilderness—lonely as the desert of Palmyra and sadly reminding one of Goldsmith’s “Deserted Village.” The streets were grass-grown, the tenantless houses were gone to wreck, the church windows swung loose on broken hinges, weeds flaunted in rose-gardens, oranges lay rotting in side the once beautifully hedged enclosures, and the mineral spring itself—a free, bold stream strongly impregnated with iron and sulphur— was then in utter neglect. The building which had covered the deep, crystalline basin in which we had so often bathed, had fallen into decay, and nothing was unchanged but the grove of stately magnolias which embowered the spring. What a beautiful and valuable health resort a little enterprise and capital could make of this place, convenient as it is to the railroad trains and coast packets, and very near the capital of the State ! But still nearer to Tallahassee is another point of interest to the traveler and the capitalist. This is the beautiful Lake Jackson, in the im mediate vicinity of Tallahassee—a noble sheet of water six miles long and three broad, abound ing in fish, visited by innumerable water fowls, and affording scenery as lovely as any artist cr poet could desire, with banks at some points gently sloping to the water’s brink and bordered with gleaming sands that higher up give place to velvet verdure; and at other points broken into bold promontories and graceful curves with ■ a back-ground of hammock woods rolling away in billows of variegated green. Around the shores of this lake it is said “could be made one of the finest drives in the country,” and the grand promontory on which is situated the j once beautiful but now neglected and half- ruined Whitehead mansion would make the ! “ finest site for a hotel in the South.” Livingstone’s Opinion of the Negro. It is universally conceded that David Living stone was born with a special mission to look after the welfare of lower races. His attention i was turned with characteristic earnestness to the problem afforded by the African race. To the study of this people he devoted the activity of his nature and brought to bear upon it his large philanthropy, his broad human sympathy, his patience and philosophy. And what is the result of this—what is his opinion of the negro as a being susceptible of civilization and moral rsponsibility ? We find it condensed in the nut shell of a few suggestive sentences that slip from his pen in his “Journal.” Here is one alluding to future plans for missionary enterprise. He writes: “Educated free blacks from a distance are to be avoided. They are expensive and are too much of gentlemen for vour work.” This is a serious warning, and must cause the reflection that if the black when freed and educa- cated is useless and “too much of a gentleman” to perform his part as missionary to his igno rant brethren in Africa, from whence he himself was liberated, he must be decidedly useless in any other position. It would be natural to sup pose that a native black who had received the advantages of education in a civilized country would, beyond all others, be adapted to impart the same benefits to those of his own race. Upon such a question Livingstone is the highest authority, and his unfavorable opinion throws a dark shade upon the prospects of native im provement. Another warning of the unfitness of dark and mixed races for progressive political movements may be drawn from an expression of Castelar, who is reported to be much disappointed at the turn affairs have taken in Spain. He says: “I have deceived myself in thinking that the Spanish people could be judged like the other nations of Europe. It is a Semitic people, full of the Moorish blood. It will never understand onr political refinements and distinctions. It is intransigente. All its opinions are absolute like its axioms of fanatical religion. My policy was vanquished. It must have been so: it is a question of race; Semitism is not republican. “ Money worship, let us not deny it, is our national sin. We pay our highest respect to money, and desiring to be respected, we strain after the possession of that for which we know we shall be courted, respected and admired, though we lack every virtue in the calendar. We see people—no doubt, charming people— neglected because they are poor, and we hate pov erty fos the cruel penalty it inflicts. ” A useful thing in the long run—breath. A Summer Land. In spite of what the critics say about Mr. Noel's poem of “Livingstone in Africa,” there are some lovely word pictures to be found in it. True, these are oftenest oases in the desert of commonplace, but many of our modern poems are all desert and no bright spots. Here is a picture of the summer land where the “birds have no sorrow in their song, no winter in their year.” It deserves a place in “Lotos Leaves,” the new, rich and rare book made up of contri butions from the first wits and poets of the age, enriched with designs by most eminent artists— a choice bouquet of a book, representative of Nineteenth Century art. But here is Mr. Noel's picture of the “Land of the Sun:” “ I came to pleasant places on my way: Lawns of deep verdure by a silver water; Wind-waved savannas, flushed with floral bloom, Clouded with saffron, or cerulean flowers, And little silken blossoms of pure snow, Dying in dews of every dying eve— Living in all revivals of the morn. Here, women singing, reap the golden grain, Or bind in sheaves; here flourish cotton fleece, Eice, tendrilled peas and pulse and sugar-cane; While mottled kine, knee-deep in flowering grasses, At milking time, low to their prisoned heifers, And merry kidlings frisk at bowered doors. The men, under some fig's rich canopy, Sit weaving limber baskets, or a wier And fishing creel. “ How wonderful it was to float along the river.' Dreamily hearing water flash and gurgle From my canoe’s advancing sides and oars, Washing among green rushes of the shore, Wherein winged warblers, plumed in spousal hues Of green, gold, scarlet, sable, white and azure, Flashed, thrilled and warbled here in the Summer Land. Hark! how they sing to soft mates in nests woven Of green flags, nimble bills have sown with webs; While sunning them, they preen their little wings, Showering drops that trickle down the stems. “In shoals, grave marabouts with red flamingoes Wade; and behold! yon bird on floating lotus Leaves walks among the holy white lilies, Dipping a glossy fold below the ripple. A snowy ibis, a slim dftnoiselle, A tall, gray heron, an egret of white plumes,— These, and the like, stand fairy sentinels With wavering, bright image down below; Silent, before a twilit emerald Of river margin, radiant in bloom, Yellow milola, blue convolvulus, Whose vases seem to overflow with heaven.” Our Correspondents. Author of “Pussie Duncan."—The specimen chapter is very good indeed; would' like to see the whole MS. The synopsis of the plot prom ises well. Dr. II. S.—Your good wishes are a cordial to the heart. Your little sketch-essay is accepted. It has all the old maltum in parvo of style—the rare faculty of condensation — of clothing a thought in few and forcible words. Why should you feel obliged, though “a grave and gray haired minister,” to excuse yourself for taking an interest in stories? The novel is now the most popular vehicle, not only of sentiment, but of thought and knowledge—of that knowledge which is most practical and valuable—knowl edge of life and affairs, of places and customs, of human business and human character. Mrs. Tl., of Marshall, Texas—Your energy is most commendable. Your cheerful patience under trials and bereavements that would have crushed many seemingly stouter hearts into the dust, makes you worthy of present respect and future success. As to your question concerning the “National Copying Company for Pictures and Photographs,” we cannot give you a satis factory reply. ' l’ou had best be careful, how ever; we have heard the company spoken of un favorably. Mattie S., of Thomasville.—It was not an “ill wind ” that blew that fragment of The Sunny South at your feet. You shall have an unmuti lated copy, and we feel assured that you will at once “place it on your list of friends” and your name on our list of subscribers. We shall be glad to examine any MS. you may send. No, we have not forgotten you; memory holds a pic ture of a gay and graceful sprite that we last saw flitting among the flowers of her mother’s gar den, as though “Lile were all poetry And weariness a dream.” From Mrs. B., of Terrell, Texas, comes a let ter of kindly greeting, saying: “I feel con strained to write and thank you and Mr. Seals for starting an ‘enterprise so greatly needed. I appreciate The Sunny South highly. Your story is constantly growing in interest, and Mrs. Hill’s department is always admirable. Her re ceipts stand the test of trial invariably. Why do you not publish something more from the author of the “Sister of Mercy?” I thought that a charming story. Is the writer the same Mrs. Messenger that once edited the ‘Kaleido scope’ during the war ?” We do not think she is, but she is a graceful writer, as you say, and we expect shortly to publish a long story from her pen. Miss II., of Bock Hill, S. C.—Your first com munication came to the office before our arrival. We have not yet found time to examine the MS. thoroughly because of ill-health and accumula tion of papers to be overlooked. Will write you privately soon. The “Sketches of Travel” would no doubt suit our pages if they were short and sprightly, as we fancy they would be. Mrs. M., of Eatonton.—You are very kind and complimentary, and we regret not being able just now to comply with your request. The number you desire shall Ije sent to your address. As regards the sequel of “Haywood Lodge,” it has been so often called for that we propose to publish the entire story re-written and modified and with the sequel appended. We will begin its publication in The Sunny South as soon as “Twice Condemned” is completed. ‘‘Little Mary."-—Your letter is as welcome as the first violets of spring—the violets you used to resemble: and like the odor of those “flowers to childhood dear,” it brings up a dream of the lovely long-ago when “Little Mary” was the school pet. It is que£r to know that she is now a wife and mother.—wee, delicate sprite as she was! But no doubt she makes a charming household fairy, and we shall accept her invita tion to “come and see for ourself” the first time we can give pen and printers the dodge. The Spelling Bee. “Will you go to the ‘Spelling Bee’ to-night?" asked a friend. “It will make you feel five years younger.” And as we felt in need of rejuvenescence, we went. A “Spelling Bee !” We had never seen one or heard one described, but the name had a quaint sound — a flavor of rusticity in it that was attractive. We had a mental picture of a wide hall—a school recitation room, probably— with benches, desks, a globe lamp by way of illumination, and a spelling class composed of big folks and little, with an amused cluster of spectators—perhaps fifty in number, and plainly dressed. This picture vanished, presto! as our cicerone stopped before an imposing building, where a crowd blocked the entrance and police men mounted guard. We were ushered at length into the well-lighted Opera House—an ample and tastefully-designed building, reminding one of the Varieties Theatre in New Orleans—and found it overflowing, lower floors and galleries, with plumes, ribbons, satin vests, opera-glasses, kid- gloves—all the accessories of a “full dress” occa sion; while a sea of smiling faces, young and old, all turned to the stage, before which a fine band waft in performance, and upon which sat the contestants in the spelling match—two com panies ranged on either side, under distinguished captains, while the chairman appeared in the open space between, and walking composedly to and fro was seen the professor, the master of ceremonies. In the back-ground, but conspicuous from their elevated seats and imposing appearance, sat the committee—a grave, judicial-looking trio with three ponderous standard dictionaries open before them. The spelling clubs presented a comic diver sity, being composed for the most part of young men, but with a sprinkling of eager, wide-awake faces of Young America, contrasting with their bearded seniors, and yet more with a represent ative of the old fogy element in the person of a bald-headed old gentleman in rusty shoes and home-made coat — evidently a country school teacher. A few preliminary remarks from the professor (facetious admonitions to “the boys” to hold up their heads, turn out their toes and speak up in a manner to reflect credit upon themselves and their very numerous parents), and the ortho graphical combat began. Just as the correct spelling of the “ good boys” began to grow mo notonous, a word was missed, then another and another. Each defeated contestant took up his chair and retreated amid much good-natured merriment. The audience was highly apprecia tive, the schoolboys and the old gentleman from the country coming in for the greatest share of their sympathy. They insisted on the fairest play for these, and when they were finally beaten, consoled them with applause. Meantime, the work of decimation went on until the ranks were thinned to three or four on a side, reminding one of the famous combat be tween the two Highland clans (recorded by Sir Walter) when they fought with picked men on a staked battle-ground, -with the king, court and a thousand spectators ranged on elevated seats to behold them—fought till but two stood stagger ing on the hloody field. That was high tragedy, however, and this battle of the book-learned was pure comedy—very funny to grown-up folks and irresistible to the little ones. Finally, all went down but three “spellists,” who took positions and stood the trial with a pertinacity that made one fear they had resolved like Ulysses (the mod ern) “to stand it out on that line if it took all summer.” At last, however, the little editor went down (on a doubtful word, though), and pres ently another tripped on the anglicised French word, “vinaigrette” (a little stone has stumbled many a thoroughbred who made nothing of taking bars and hedges), and he retired, while some pretty girls around us murmured, “What a pity !” and tried to tell, only they didn’t tell right, showing how their young sympathies were moved by—his good looks. So the field and the victory was left to the one remaining champion—a Mr. Clayton, we believe. The prize—a large and handsomely bound copy of “La Fontaine’s Fables,” finely illustrated by Dore—was awarded him and bestowed in a neat, complimentary speech by the Hon. Henry W. Hilliard, who also delivered the second prize,-— a copy of Hood’s poems—to the handsome young man who had come off second-best. Then there was a short, sharp struggle for another prize to be awarded to any one who could spell one of a picked set of words—regular jaw-breakers that frightened the old schoolmaster out of the ring and sent the rest off, each “with a flea in his ear ” and minus the prize. Then we had some charming music and a graceful little speech of thanks, and the “Spelling Bee” was over. Somebody’s Darling.—No matter how low a man may sink in morals; how terrible the crimes which he commits; how utterly to be abhorred he may become in the eyes of the world; or how regardless of the dictates of reason or the prompt ings of his better nature, he is “somebody’s dar ling,” and there is at least within the bounda ries of this wide, wide world, some heart which thinks of him with lingering, yearning sympa thy,—some being who would do him good, and amidst even the fiercest frowning of a contempt uous world, would smile upon him with a tender kindness. Thank heaven, it is so: and that for the most wicked, desolated wretch there is even in the world a portion, however small, of sym pathy and love. Many a reckless, guilty son- many a wayward, sinning daughter, were they to return, would find an open door and a warm heart to welcome them, and though the light which might guide their footsteps on their re turn be but the faint glimmering of a wish pen etrating to the outer world through an unthatched cot of some lone widow, yet would the welcom ing grasp of a mother's or sister’s hand and the affectionate kindling of the eyes be such as should bring peace and quiet in any bosom. Josh Billings on the School-Marm.—“ May kind heaven strew sum kind uv happiness in her pathway; for she is generally paid poorly, worked hardly,"and the step-mother to everybody’s chil dren." She never receives anything better from the world than the most formal respekt. ” MRS. A. P. HILL, ... Editress. The attention of all housekeeperI is invited to this Depart ment, and the Editress urges them to send her copies of tried receipts. Let us make this an interesting and prof itable Department. Answers to Uorres|M>ndeiits. To P., Richmond, Va.—A friend informs me she was able to remove bunions by first soaking her feet well in hot water; then wrapping a soft cloth around the foot, keeping the cloth cover ing the affected place saturated with kerosene oil. This was kept up all day. I recommend, also, touching the homy part with caustic: soon this can be removed and the suffering relieved. I think, however, they will yet urn unless the cause is removed. Wearing high-heeled shoes, thus throwing the weight of the body upon the ball of the foot, causes the mischief. The part of your letter relating to dress I turned over to the Fashion Editress, l'ou write a nice letter. I hope to hear from you again. Glad you like The Sunny South. Dear Editress,—In one of your last contribu tions to The Sunny South, you say that plants are purifiers of the air, by absorbing carbonic acid gas and returning oxygen, so essential to the life of animals: and you furnish high author ity for the assertion. Why, then, is it consid ered unwholesome to keep plants in sleeping rooms ? E. G. Answer. — Scientific writers inform ns that while plants are useful for this purpose in the day-time, at night the regular vegetable function is suspended; carbonic acid gas is no longer withdrawn from the surrounding atmosphere and oxygen is no longer set free. The deleteri ous effect of plants in rooms is caused by the leakage through the leaves of the gaseous con tents of the sap. Carbonic acid gas is given off in small quantities at night, and just to that degree vegetation is injurious in sleeping rooms. “ Plants appropriate carbon as long as the sun shines, but the process stops when winter or night sets in. ” It has been well observed, that “animal and vegetable life form a grand autom atic self-adjusting machine.” Miscellaneous Items. Clean your tin-ware with soda. Too much yeast injures the sweetness of bread. In cooling custards, place the ice over the dish. Old zephyrs can be made to look new by steaming. Kerosene applied to stoves will keep them from rusting. Cold tea- is good to clean varnished paints, mirrors and window-frames. Eggs should be well-covered with water when boiled, or they will be tough. To destroy roaches and insects, scatter around their haunts pulverized borax. Vinegar in the rinsing water for pink or green will brighten them. Soda will do the same for purple or blue. Send a bottle to the butcher; get him to empty several gall-bladders in it; add a little salt, and keep in a cool place. A table-spoonful of ox-gall to a gallon of water will set the color of almost any cloth. Soak in it before washing. A tea-cup of lye in a pail of water will improve the color of black goods. Nankin should lay in lye before being washed. To mend cracks in iron, use equal quantities of finely-sifted ashes and salt wet to a paste with water; apply to the broken part. Carbolic acid will drive off flies and mosqui toes. Saturate a cloth with it and hang up in the room. Oil of pennyroyal will drive off fleas. To remove stains and restore colors destroyed by acids—Apply ammonia to neutralize the acid; after which apply chloroform. This will remove paint from garments when benzine has failed. To steam potatoes, remove the cover and let the steam escape; when done, take the vessel in which they were steamed from over the water. Set them off on a warm part of the stove until served. Japanned tea-trays should not be washed in hot water. If greasy, a little flower rubbed on with a bit of soft linen will give them a new look; if there are scratches, rub over a little olive oil. In cleaning steel knives, do not bear heavily upon them; it dulls them. Never put the han dles in hot water; clean the ivory occasionally with diluted alcohol, and then rub with sweet oil. Remove fruit stains or dark spots with emery paper. Ink stains can be removed from carpets or woolen table-covers by washing the spot in a liquid composed of one tea-spoonful of oxalic acid dissolved in a tea-cup of warm water. This acid is poisonous, and must be washed off after remaining awhile. There is a curious legend in an old ballad of the mediaeval age, viz: In a pageant two beasts were introduced,—one was called “Bycorne,” the other “Chichevache.” The first was sup posed to live on obedient husbands; the latter upon patient wives. The humor of the piece consists in representing Bycorne as fat and pam pered; the other as half starved. The following receipt is contributed by Mrs. B.. a lady noted for superior housekeeping: Yeast Powder.—Take one pound of cream of tartar, half pound of soda, the same of crushed sugar, and half pound of flour; sift these well together*, put in an air-tight vessel. Use two tea-spoonfuls to one quart of flour, Hood calls the slamming of a door, hy a per son in a passion, “a wooden oath." What is it causes a cold, cures a cold, and pays . the doctor? A draft. f