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[For Tbe Sunny South.] BACKWARD—A SONG. BY J. W. liOBB, JR. How sweet to remember, When years have gone by, And life’s dull December Hath dimm'd the bright eye. The scenes of our childhood. When careless we strayed Thro' the meadow or wild wood, Or sang thro’ the glade,— When bright as the flight Of the fair sunny hour Came visions of manhood, Of glory and pow’r. They may tell of the pleasures Engendered by Hope, But vain with the treasures Of Memory they cope. Hope is the swift lightning That flashes afar. But Memory the bright’ning Of Youth's sinking star; 'Tis a ray from the day Of dreams and romance, Like the opaline glory Of sunset’s last glance. OUR PORTRAIT GALLERY. LOUIS NAPOLEON. BY J. K. J. The third Napoleon, whether much or little admired, was at least a person of interest Am bition was his crowning heritage. It led him to establish the Napoleonic dynasty. The game was a prodigious one, and he played earnestly. The game for a crown called forth all his ener gies and developed powers of grander propor tions than were promised by his youth. We have, in his singularly checkered career, an illustration of what may be achieved by one who has “an eye single” to any purpose. He who has power to concentrate all his efforts to one end, does by such massing of forces as did the first Napoleon by massing armies—he conquers by detail. Whatever of personal magnetism, whatever of military genius, whatever of heroism, whatever of persistency pertained to the man, was made subservient to the one aim of his life. All that he was and all that he accomplished is to be ac credited to that ambition which empowered and impelled him to be and to do—which made him a Napoleon. It was this that sustained him in exile and in prison,—that inspired his pen in the production of every paper,—that made him yearn for the shores of France during all the years of Louis Philippe, and that led him back at the close of that reign. From the birth of the Republic, royalist though he was, he seized Repub’icamsm as the ladder by which to ascend the throne. This was the bril liant period of his career—a period in which he displayed the greatness of his power—in which 1 Napoleon conquered Napoleon, and banished from the eyes of France and of the nations his kingly spirit while, disguised in a hated garb, he played the role of a Republican and won the hearts of the people. From a chair in the Assem bly to the Presidency of the Republic, to the Dictatorship, to the Empire,—these were the steady advances of a man made great by a tow ering ambition—made ambitious by the blood of the Napoleons. Heaccomplished his life-work when he restored the fallen dynasty. Then his work should have ended, for when he passed that point in his career, he entered upon a road unblazed by the eyes of his ambition, and conducting—he had not thought whither. If from his youth he had aimed at more than was already done, he would have accomplished the more. He had the power, but it was not concentrated upon the extension of the Empire. His last game was played to entertain his idle armies, and was lost. ration of Sir Joshua Remolds, and the tender. The pillars of Gilmore's Garden were deco rated with the rainbow flags of every nation, and from each graceful arch hung a basket of rare flowers and trailing vines. The sibilant cascade tumbled and tossed its foamy waters, the fountains whispered to the broad-leaved tamyahs and fragrant lilies of the Nile, and gay converse and rippling laughter blended with the soft harmony of German music. Thousands went home humming the lovely airs from Schu- the simple, great ones gone.” Mr. ami Mrs. Florence are announced for “The Notre Dame, the twin-towered cathedral, stands enthusiastic love of old John Joseph (Angelica's Mighty (originally the Almighty) Dollar,” a new ; near the Place d’Armes, full of hints of the old father , are touched noon, glorified by the mag- ‘ ' ' icai pen of Thackeray’s daughter. She lacks her father's humor and brilliant satire, but is so pure and poetical, so graceful and vivid, that we cannot hut bless her lor the pure delight she gives us, and pronounce her a worthy daughter of that great master of English fiction —“ one of j American comedy, at the Park Theatre. j world in its vastness (holding ten thousand per- * The Lyceum gives a season of French opera spns without undue crowding) and richness. A bouffe. opening with a new work of Offenbach's, disappointment awaits us within this year. “ Madame L'Archiduc.” They are polvchroming the walls with bright The Olympic has a variety show, composed of j colors and gold leaf—done with much pains- tight-rope dancers, gymnasts, and other perform- j taking and, we doubt not, with piety. But the S miner met her ances “of that ilk. Booth's continues with Barry Sullivan, who bert and treasuring in their hearts the fame of while in England, and gives in his memoirs this has not created the furore that was expected, the immortal Goethe. pretty sketch of her: “ The face of the girl was He is unfortunate in taking the most famous [For The Sunny South.] LETTER FROM NEW YORK. THE GOETHE ANNIVERSARY. The one hundred and twenty-sixth anniver sary of the birth of Goethe was celebrated by j men) the Goethe Club of this city, at Gilmore’s Gar den, on the evening of August 28th. That spa cious garden was densely crowded—every seat occupied, and crowds standing in the broad, graveled walks, long before the exercises com menced. The evening opened with the over ture from “Jnbal” (Gilmore’s band), a spirited, gay performance, which was followed by cornet PICTURES, ETC. At'Schaus’ art rooms on Broadway, between Eighth and Ninth streets, there is much to de light the eye and chain the attention—on every side, beauty of design and coloring. Among the most noteworthy objects may be mentioned the wonderful wood carvings of A. Pope, Jr. These are in bold relief on slabs of maple or other ornamental woods, and represent wild ducks, blue-birds, does, wild pigeons, etc., in the most marvelous fidelity to nature, not only in form and outline, but in coloring. These birds are first carved, every feature delicately perfect, and then colored in all the rich, exquis ite plumage-tints of the real birds. These can be hung as pictures, and make an elegant-deco ration for the walls of dining-rooms and gentle- so fresh and fair, and such a sweet, sunny, laughing expression beamed over it, that I could not help addressing her without a word of pre- | classic Booth in his characters of Hamlet and sentation, and of conversing in a gossipy way Rickard the Third, and it seems almost insane for full five minutes. On reaching the door, I I for any one else to attempt them on metropoli- met Thackeray, with whom I talked a moment; i tan boards, where he has been seen so often, and on his informing me that his daughters j In musical entertainment, there will be sev- were present, I immediately proposed making ! eral new sensations. Wachtel, the great German their acquaintance. Some one standing near * .... - r ,aid, ‘ Why, you have been talking with one of them for the last five minutes.’ Of course, I was charmed to learn that this sunny creature j jens (as it is sometimes spelled). Yon Bulow, WHS TTl xr f pi on H ’c rl a n rrVi for ” tin fVirm a L „ : l .• j. a _ i 1 a •_ n tenor, appears in opera at the Academy of Music. Titiens is to be here—the world-famous prima Inniui absoluta —who is one and the same as Tiet- was my friend’s daughter.” He then goes on to tell of his regular introduction to her by Thack the eminent pianiste, is expected later in the j season, and the musical season promises to be eray, and adds: “We had a charming little j unusually rich and varied. chat.” She has recently published a delightful collection of short stones called “Blue-Beard's sanctums. Paintings on wood, also of j Keys,” and it is only necessary to read its few birds (robins, sparrows, bobolink, etc.,) from tbe brush of Frerot, are very life-like and beautiful. H. A. Olcutt exhibits a series of charming flower-pieces on panels of dark-colored woods: here, a spray of snow-drops clustered with royal pansies—there, a branch of vivid, burning, scar let carnations, so natural and blooming that you feel as if von could raise them in your fingers fresh, breezy pages, to agree with me that she is one of the very few who know how to tell fairy tales to grown folks. FASHIONS. In hats, we find the season more advanced than in any other article of dress. These are mostly in soft felt hats, in gray, dove and cream solos from Levy and Arlmckle the former being and gather their sweet perfume. The most gor- “'nut-brown and"navy blut^^he^slllTpes’are encored in the most noisy and enthusiastic style g eo us flower-piece is a great mass of amethyst- the “Derbv ” “ RonsW ” ,-T ine lilacs which bears the name of It will be early enough to speak of the novel ties in dress goods and coverings in my next. jMel. R. Colquitt. (notwithstanding the express announcement in the morning and evening papers that no such indulgence would be permitted); and even those who deplored what Sims Reeves calls “the greed iness of the public ” in that respect, could not complain when the dulcet harmony of “Robert le Diable ” followed the exquisitely silver mel ody of “Schubert's Serenade.” William Cnllen Bryant, “the Nestor of Amer ican poets,” was the orator chosen for the occa sion, and he was most gracefully presented to the attributed to Ribera. Such a grin of animal assembly by Dr. Ruppaner, the President of the Goethe Club. Mr. Bryant is small and delicate of stature, feeble and venerable. His hair, which falls low on his shoulders, is perfectly white; brow massive, eyes dark and penetrating. His voice is soft, low, almost feeble, and his manner singularly devoid of animation and gesticula tion. He delivered a chaste, eloquent address— occupying about eighteen or twenty minutes— and in conclusion, paid a most beautiful and generous tribute to his co-worker, Bayard Tay lor, who was to follow him. Bayard Taylor, who may be any age from fifty to fifty-eight, has a fine, portly figure, with a majestic head and full, rather heavy face. His hair is thin and dark, and he has a short, dark beard. There is nothing of the quick, keen, ner vous expression which was so noticeable in the pictures taken of him ten or fifteen years ago. He is a poet, and a poet of a high order, but there is nothing poetical or iesthetic in his face. He impresses one as a bon-l'ivant—a jolly, clever club man, on whom fortune has lavished her best gifts and a goodly share of creature com forts; and yet we know he is one of the hardest students and one of the most learned men this country has ever produced. It was because of his thorough knowledge of German, and his masterly translations from that language, that he was invited to grace this meeting. And do we not all remember that he went to Germany a poor printer, and traveled all over Europe on foot? Mr. Taylor’s manner is quick, emphatic, and full of strong, expressive gesticulation. The “Cantata” (in German), composed for the occasion by Prof. Wildner (words by Mr. E. Leonard), was a very gratifying success — the solos being most beautifully rendered by Bis- choff (tenor), Sohst (baritone), and Madame Sal- vrotti (soprano). Madame Salvrotti has a lovely voice, sweet and powerful, which filled that im Derby,” “Rousby,” “Tietjens” .a bonnet with straight brim and low crown’, “Airnee” (a hat usually of brown straw), falling low over the brow and rounding up in the back, which allows for very tasteful trimmings in the back, under the brim, of loops of soft silk and a bright wing or birds’ heads. The handsomest hat I have geen was at Wal- . „ .. .. ton’s. It was a pearl-grav felt in the “Cottage” in a broad “grin over t ie large oil-paint- shape—round crown and narrow, close brim, of the “Macaroni Eater (“Spagnolito, ) ! turned down all aroun l. The brim was bor dered with an inch-wide band of dove-colored felt (woven in), and the trimming was two long, narrow scarfs, very tastefully interwoven, of gray and dove color. The ornaments were narrow gold or gilt clasps and two large, loose blush- roses. This was a pattern hat, and the price was thirty-five dollars. ‘ Pauline Girardin,” and as one looks at them, faint, sweet, childhood odors come floating back through the “corridors of time,” and yon feel like pressing their fresh Tyrian-purple loveliness against your face in a caress. Turning from the branch of lilac, half sad dened by old-time thoughts, you will tin l your self in a broad ing delight and utter satisfaction spreads over his coarse, heavy face, as he contemplates his full dish of ropy macaroni,—such a glitter of happi ness gleams from his dark eyes,—that you say almost aloud, “Poor fellow! I'm glad he has enough for onceand turn and leave him in the full enjoyment of his kingly feast. Ah! what a lovely woman!—Circe, sitting on the floor of a low stone piazza, with tier class ical head bent down and her beautiful arms clasping her knees, contemplating a raging, hurrying herd of swine that crowd up to her very feet and look up at her with wild, half human eyes. It is difficult to see in this rough herd the courtly Ulysses and his followers. But so they are, transformed and brutalized by the wicked sorcery of a beautiful demon. Is the story all a fable ? Have we not seen it re-enacted again and again? This picture is from the paint ing of Briton Reviere. and is very suggestive and full of interest. Another from the same artist theatres. “Around the World." at the Academy of Music, is running its third week, and is still drawing cial says: [For The Sunny South.] LETTER FROM CANADA. We are at Rouse’s Point. Gone the phantas magoria of Northern cars and boats—of masses of over-dressed and under-bred people, with here and there a stratum, refreshing and, alas ! too thin, of refined and intelligent folk. Gone the boy who waked you at midnight stamping down the passage-way and shrieking, “ JFarnut meat!” and “ ripe, mellow peaches!” Gone, too, the boy who drove you into fits of laughter by day with his cry of “ Nice, double-jointed, Cali fornia, hump-backed peanuts !” Gone stately palisade and sumner pleasance, waving field and placid lake. “Does your trunk contain anything but wear ing apparel?” asks the polite custom-house offi cer. “Nothing,” we answer, with the phlegm begot of experience. “ And yours, madame?” addressing a buxom, gay-bonneted female. “Not a thing but my clothes, upon my word and honor, and they are all made up, and that my Maker knows to be true!” she pours forth with excited volubility. We all looked a little shocked; even the offi- orowded houses. It has been pronounced scenic marvel,” and I think it deserves the title- some of the scenes being marvelously perfect, and others marvelously imperfect. The most beauuliii scenes are tae “necropolis” (grand funeral pageant, where Aouda, the East Indian princess, is to meet her death), the “Giant’s Stairway in tbe Rocky Mountains,” and the “Lights of Liverpool.” As an offset to these (which are really very tine), we have the “Union Pacific Depot in San Francisco” (which is sim- (also an engraving) is Daniel in the lions’ den. ’ ut,1 T ^ or ' a ' 8 ro Sg er 5’)> L - * - - - * * - s prophet, with rhe Great Union Hotel in Calcutta ’’ and sev- The mute, helpless attitude of the prophet his hands tied behind him. facing the liowlin raging company of lions and tigers, is very tine, and the heads of the lions are very powerful and majestic. A horror creeps over the beholder in eral others that are too outrageously bad to bear ‘ That is not necessary.” We bowl away to Montreal. We confide our selves and our luggage to the transfer company. “I do not want to deceive you,” says the agent. “If you make connection, I shall be of no use to you. Your baggage will at once be changed to the Quebec train.” An agent without self-seeking ! The airs of a foreign land steal over us. Is this Lord Bacon’s New Atlantis? We reach the depot; we are late, and the train has gone. We drive to the Canada Hotel, where we find quiet, neatness, good fare, reasonable living, and no tongue but French. There is a description. The ballet corps is very large, over buzz and hum of it ateach meal; vollies of Ion roles of Edwin Booth, and I know of no living actor who can at all bear comparison with the little groups of pillars which form part of the main shaft are having a new dress too,—a fine coat each of make-believe, variegated marble! Out upon the sham ! If the worshippers desire to make their temple all beautiful within, are they not wealthy or loving enough to gather from their widely-separated beds the costly stones, and set them here in testimony of their devotion ? But climb to the tower by the steep, ladder like stair-wav, and Nature, beautiful this year as last year, lies beneath your gaze. Nature hand in hand with Art. Lines of fair houses, quaint, narrow streets, waving tree-rows, enameled garden-plots, the abrupt, wooded Mt. Royal, rising steadfast and dark iike a warder in armor close behind a fair princess, the wonderful Vic toria bridge, islands verdurous and sombre, or peopled and white with houses, and around all, the great, sunny St. Lawrence. Scan it in de tail or sweep your eye over the whole as you will, each mood will be satisfied. Next go to the Jesuits’ Church, whose walls and ceiling are lined with frescoes, some beauti ful, chiefly from the life of our Lord, occasion ally varied by a martyrdom or an apotheosis of the virgin mother, under whose protection the Ville-Marie stands. The stone-gray and pale- blue tints which prevail exclusively in walls and windows, give a sense of repose, of height and spaciousness, albeit somewhat cold and passion less. Here the tinsel and paper flowers of the tasteless devotee find no place. The English Cathedral is a beautiful specimen of mediocral Gothic, built partly of Montreal, partly of Caen stone. The entrance is especially noteworthy. Travelers say there is not another such on the continent for unity and proportion. Mention must also be made of St. Andrew’s (Scotch) Church, an exact miniature of Salisbury Cathedral, and a beautiful building. Come, now, for a walk through Sherbrooke street. You pass one stately stone mansion after another. Through the long glass walls of the conservatories, the splendid faces of tropic cap tives, “where the warm light loves to dwell,” look out at us “with weary looks, yet tender,” and question, “ Have you seen our sisters ?” We have seen your sisters, O exiles. We left them in the flush of youth and joy, and their only roof was the kindly sky. Each house is set back to allow for the turf in front—the fresh, living, green grass, whence gem-like plots of blossom gleam. One emerald mound is crowned with geranium in perfect flower; the diadem fairly darts scarlet fire. Now, call one of those smart, gay little cabs peculiar to this city, and with a chosen compan ion, who has flashes of silence as well as flashes of wit, experience that nine-mile delight, the drive around the mountain; and when it is over, confess we did well to desist from poor, weak words, and to leave the beauty to be realized. It is seven o’clock p. m. Our omnibus has scrambled down the steep little St. Gabriel street to the pier. We sit on the deck of the im mense, handsome Quebec, of the Richelieu Com pany. On one side is Bonsecour market, a Doric pile with its great dome visible all over the city; on the other the Victoria bridge, now a narrow ing line in the twilight. In the rainy, gray morning, we near Quebee. Once more we greet the grand, picturesque heights,—once more we gaze up the narrow, as cending streets where lies the dust of centuries— the streets which are redolent of yesterday, which are haunt id by the past, which seem to tend away, averted and absorbed in retrospect, from the ambitious young republic over the border, exulting to keep its centennial. Hail and farewell, grande dame ! Another day we shall return to sit at your feet, to look in your noble, heroic face, calm after fire and bat tle, to hear your legends of the past. The Union, of the St. Lawrence and the Sagueway line, comes alongside, and we are safely transferred. This boat is little in comparison with our late big floating caravansera — cosier, more home like. But it is not much we have to do within, we sight-seers. To the aft we go, as it is still misting and mizzling. There we find a young couple with a whole April of apple-bloom dis tributed over their cheeks. Judging from their youth, they might be making their wedding- trip; but we think not—they are a little too tran quil. They are pleasant and affable. A young Cuban-Englishman, with a suspicion of the West Indian curiously pervading the ineradicable traits of the Briton, is likewise conversible. We all sit under partial cover and gaze contentedly at either bank of the St. Lawrence. There is not very much to put down, but it is all new to us. We glide by islands; by little villages protected and lorded over by their red- roofed, white-steepled church, always set on a hill or on some far-extending point; by high, forlorn banks, painted and bronzed by the water and the sun. Ever and anon, a little, foaming cascade hastens down the steep to the river. It is the snow-limbed Undine springing to meet her native element. Yes, it is all new; but a bell rings, and we are but mortal, after alL We rise and leave it, to eat that delicious, pink-hued viand, the speckled trout; to eat beef-steak and potatoes and drink tea a la Anglais; to eat blueberries, children of the hill-sides of the St. Lawrence. Two o’clock. The whistle blows. Travelers collect wraps. There is a murmur that we are nearing Murray Bay. Our journey has an end with more than one sequel; this is the end. We too rise and turn to the high green bluffs and stony hill-sides, cottages on the crest, a little bevy of carriages, carts, caleches, visitors and hab'dans on the pier. Malbraie (let us be French!) we salute thee ! Mary Carroll. a hundred girls appearing on the stage at one time, and the dancing of the Kiralfys and Mile. close-packed sentences (so they sound to us) shot swiftly from the light tongue, and inter- ENIGMAS AND CONUNDRUMS. The following persons have answered all the enigmas in the last paper correctly: J. P. Per due, Atlanta; Clara Thompson, Greenesboro; Mrs. R. C. Harris, Butler, Ga.; W. E. Johnson, Atlanta; H. Blagge, Galveston, Texas; Mrs. J. A. Smith, Rome; Lucy Bruce, Bainbridge, Ga.; Lucy E. Rucker, Flint River Factory; Alston & Portis, Mobile, Ala.; W. P. McD.. Atlanta; Mrs. Fannie C. Estes, Gainesville; Mamie M. Stell, McDonough; Birdie Walker, Wartburg, Tenn. (The word “pressure.” in connection with our water-works, is simply a play upon the powerful pressure of the engine, which throws water over our highest building.) R. B. Stegall, Dalton, on the floor the scattered remains of for- Pe ‘ 1 ® t ! er * s . ve ( r / g°°£ f hUeas ve T wel1 fpersed with gestures, flitting expressions and answers Nos. 5 and 6; Mollie Christian, Toccoa o O i u, I lax* \l r I In nn \l orlATin /J /t.j /»/, n 1 on a Ion or h t ui* ■ hodo nwi ii/inrAc va /-v f n nls n nod K f L a ft, a- •-* . ... ... \TTT /* 1 ry _ /I ft l> . 1 ■ n .. s! .1 1 mer high carnivals—ghastly bones and other horrible suggestions. The and beautiful at the same time. Here will be found those irresistible etchings, “The Girl I left Behind Me" and “The Early Bird Catches the Worm,’ doubtless seen copies. NEW BOOKS. Miss Anne Thackeray, author of “The Story of Elizabeth,” etc., has just given us a new de light in “Miss Angel”—the life-story, somewhat altered and idealized, of sweet Angelica Kauff- acted by Mr. Onen Marlone. O'Palce is a’ sue- laughter; sauces piquantes not much used by the Dicture^is^riehtful ces . s ’ u t * ie hands of Mr. Fitzgerald; and Harry other nation, which has so large a representation j (j ' * r : Rainforth makes a very sprightly, amusing Passe- in Canada. We address no one appertaining to partont, though he is no longer a French valet, ' the house in our mother-tongue without receiv- but is transformed into an English serving-man. ingin reply, “Me no spik English.” A good of which you have ^* ie wome . n are D °t satisfactory, with the excep- night’s rest and a good breakfast. Fish and • tion of Aemea — Miss Dora Goldthwait—who mutton are of the best in Canada, consequently makes a very pleasing impression by her pleas- it is de rigueur to eat them. ant voice and graceful carriage. The great nov- TTT ‘ 1 — *— ’ elty of the entertainment is Matt. Morgan's huge fan scene, which is rolled out and unfolded after each act —an immense painted fan, fully twelve feet high, which takes the place of a drop-cur- We revive our memories of Montreal. Sir Henry Holland, whose intelligent and extensive travel qualifies him to speak, calls her “one of the fairest of cities. ” To this testimony we un hesitatingly subscribe Nowhere else on this continent are seen so many beautiful stone buildings, and one feels it almost an embarras de richesses when, in a silent, dingy by-street, he looks up and encounters, here and there, granite “Rose Michel” is in preparation at Daly’s The- walls and rich carvings. It is especially adorned (afterwards to be crowned by the love of Angel- atre (Fifth Avenue), and will be performed the with its banks; one after another stays you by ica) of Antonio Zuzzi, the loyal, courtly admi- coming week. ; its sculptured front or imposing proportions. mense garden as easily as a parlor, and went man. the painter; and she tells most beautifully tain, and is a very pretty and original device, circling through the domes and arches like a the history of that bright, accomplished little The other version of “Around the World” joyous skylark. She has been, during the sum- woman, giving all the sunshine and glow pos- ran only a little over a week at the Grand Opera mer. one of the choir of the Church of the Incar- sible in a life so shadowed and overcast by an House, nation (Arthur Brooks, rector), and has added unfortunate love. The unwavering friendship h to the charm and spiritual influence of quiet and beautiful sanctuary. City, answers N03. 5, fi and 7; C. P. Badingfteld, | Montezuma, solves No. 5; Dr. Low solves Nos. j 5 and 6, and adds—“Subscribe for The Sunny South, and get all your neighbors to do the same;” Annie L. Smith, Montezuma, solves Nos. 5 and 6; Win. E. Sewell solves No. 6; Mrs. M. H. S., Fairburn, solves N03. 5, 6 and 7; Belle Talmadge, Athens, solves No. 8; “Serimp” solves Nos. a and 6. No. 5.—Bee, Teeth, Sun, Hen, Toys, Tub, Sin, Ten, House, Cent, Roe. Subscribe for The Sunny South. No. 6.-Eel, Edge, Middle, Live, Die. Mill- edgeville. (Twelve is not in the Enigma.) No. 7,—Samson, Ananias, Hell, Honor, Tyt- ler, Fibs, Ben Butler, Palm, Oh no. Alphonse Hurtel, Mayor of Mobile. No. 8.—Mark Twain, O. W. Holmes, Antony, System, The Fire-Worshippers, Rule. Holly’ triumphant system of water-works.