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The sunny South. (Atlanta, Ga.) 1875-1907, October 23, 1875, Image 3

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:<«s^ 3 [For The Sonny Sooth.] OIjD mammy chloe. BY SILVIA. The carriage is waiting beside the door. And Cesar the coachman stands Sadly caressing the iron-grays Awaiting the mistress’ commands. He may well be prond of his noble steedB. Champing their bits so gay. And the coach with its harness glittering bright; Bot his heart is sad to-day: For he hears the sound of weeping within, And he thinks of the dreadful news So lately brought to the loving heart Now making its last adieux. The master is wounded and dying, perhaps. And tears are now falling fast, As the faithful slave stands sorrowing there, And thinks of the happy past. Ah! well he remembers the beautiful boy. His playmate in childhood and youth, Who had ever been to his simple faith A model of goodness and truth. Together they learned of a Saviour's love, As they stood by “ole Mistiss' ’’ knee; Together they shared “ ole Mammy's ” love, And frolicked in boyish glee. Agaiu he stands by the bed of death Where the dear “ ole Mistis ’’ lies, Calmly awaiting her BummonB hence To her home beyond the skies. **‘Cesar,’ she said, an’ her voice was low An’ sweet as de birds in June, An’ I kno’ dat in heaven she's singin' now, Wid her golden harp in tune: • Cesar,’ she said, ‘I am goin’ home— My words mus" be faint and few; But I leave to guide you, de blessed Word,— To God and your master be true.” And now, while he pats the horses' mane. He thinks of that far-olf day When first he mounted the carriage box And reined up the iron-grays. Old Billy, the coachman, had feeble grown. And Cesar, in all his pride, Must go in his bran-new livery, To bring home the fair young bride. And then he remembers the sorrowful time When grief filled his own young heart— When told that from Phillis, the girl he loved. He soon would be called to part. But he goes, as of old, to “ young Mars Ned,” And his trouble straightway confides; The young lover’s heart is soon made glad, And Phillis becomes his bride. ■‘An’ now dey tell me dis drefiul war Is to set all de niggers free; No white folks in all de lan’, I'm sho, Are so happy as Phillis an’ me.” Now Cesar must mount and away once more. “Ole grays, you mus’ trabbel fas’.” He hears the sound of his lady’s voice,— “ Miss Claire is cornin’ at las'.” The little ones cling around the mother still; She kisses them o’er and o’er, Then sadly enters the waiting coach As the footman opens the door. Just then the shrill tone of a woman's voice Is borne on the autumn wind: “ Stop, children, stop,—it will never do To leave Mammy Chloe behind!” Hastening down the graveled walk, She comes in her Sunday dress; A snow-white turban encircles her head, And her 'kerchief is crossed on her breast. With her sun-bonnet now in her tightened grasp, A soft, warm shawl on her arm, She is fully prepared all hardships to brave. And shrinks front no danger or harm. “O Mammy." the sorrowing lady cries, “ You are too feeble and old For such a journey; the way is long, And the weather is growing cold. I know your kind old heart. Mammy, Is beating warm and true; But in the dreary hospital, There'll be no place for you.” “ Oh, honey!” she gasps in a voice of woe, “ My place is by youug Mars Ned; I’ve nussed ’em all from ole Miss down— I’ve watched by 'em living and dead. Dese arms was de fus dat ever held My youug Mars Ned when a babe; Brudders an’ sisters. I've nussed 'em all. From de cradel all down to de grabe. An’ now in de hospittle, far away, He's moanin' an’ pinin’, I kno’; No matter who's dar, he'll be sure to find A place for ole Mammy Chloe. Well, honey, you has a rite, I kno’, To say I mus’ stay behine; But, Mistis, 'fore God I tels you now. Somewhar on de rode you'll fine Ole Mammy Chloe,—she will go afoot: Yon may tine her cole an' dead; But ’twill sho to be only on de rode Bat leads her to young Mars Ned!” [For The Sunny South.] COUNTRY BOARD. MR. PIPP’S EXPERIENCE. BY SUSAN ABCHEH WEISS. Going into the country? No, sir; not if I know it! I have tried it, sir- tried it, and found it to be a hollow delusion, a mockery, and a snare. If you doubt the assertion, listen to my experience, and judge for yourself. I went to Sunnyside Farm. They advertised "large, airy apeCrtments, abundance of fresh vege- j tables, fruit and milk, with riding, boating and fish ing. Terms moderate." Enoiigh. The follow- i ing day found me in that earthly paradise. The rooms were certainty airy enough, everv one of them having at least three windows anil as many doors, generally opening upon the yard, with a gap at the bottom, for sake of fur ther ventilation. As a pleasing variety, some of them dragged, and could with difficulty be opened or shut. The furniture of my own apart- j ment consisted of a rickety bed, two chairs, a chest of hard-bottomed wooden drawers and a spider-legged “dressing-table” glass, in which I beheld myself in the semblance of an exaggerated goblin. Some nails behind the door ingeniously answered the purpose of a wardrobe; and a love of art was manifested in the appearance on the mantle-piece of two plaster rabbits with purple heads and green tails. There was also a picture representing a simpering female, in no drapery to speak of, clasping rapturously to her breast some nondescript species of fowl. Mrs. Hodg- ins, my landlady, subsequently informed me that it was a dove; and I could see that its name, or that of the young woman’s, was “Isabella.” Mrs. Hodgins had three daughters—plump, red-cheeked young women, who spent their mornings washing, cooking and scrubbing, and in the evenings appeared on the front porch, at tired in flounced calico dresses, having their hair adorned with tortoise-shell butterflies and bows of scarlet ribbon. One of them was gener ally, on these occasions, engaged in knitting a very long blue worsted hose, while the others preferred a book. I sometimes glanced' at the title of the volume. Once it was “The Broken- Hearted Bride,” and again, “The Silver Snow- Flake of the Weriiwocomico Tribe.” I never conversed with that young woman about Carlisle and Tennyson. There was a young man, a brother, who seldom made his appearance before the guests, and when he did so, usually brought with him a slight and appetizing stable odor, which peculiar perfume also frequently pervaded the house. The boarders weren’t partial to it, though Mrs. Hodgins assured us it was “whole some.” I hoped so, as in that case it might counteract the effect of the viands to which she generally treated us, —the hard com, the half tea-pot. No cabbage and pork was ever seen on their table. Instead, were what they called dainty little dishes of French cookery—good enough, if there had been sufficient of it. Some of these dishes were so Frenchified that I gener ally didn’t know what I was eating, only once I recognized a bit of steak which had been left at dinner, done over again for breakfast, smothered cooked potatoes and apple dumplings, the greasy j in butter, and called fricassee a la something. cabbage and skimmed milk. Yes, skimmed milk. T ’ 1 '“ iJ ~ ------ j The best of everything produced on that farm, : in the shape of “ fresh fruit, milk and vegeta- i bles',” was scrupulously set aside for the city market, and the rest alone devoted to home con sumption. As for meat, except in the shape of lean ham and fat salt pork, it was a thing almost unknown at that table. Fresh meat, they as sured us. could not be had in the country. * But ; instead, there was limitless chicken—chicken stewed, chicken roast, chicken broiled, fried, boiled, grilled, and baked in pies, until I loathed the sight of fowl—especially after having acci dently witnessed the slaughter of one which had for some days drooped and pined in the sol itary seclusion of an old herring barrel under my window. Mrs. Hodgins denied that that fowl was served at table. I tried to believe her, ; but appearances were against it. Riding? Yes, there' were two horses on the place—one old anti half-blind, and the other ! vicious, which could be hired at livery-stable prices.' I tried one—the first-mentioned—and ! lie stumbled and threw me into a mud-puddle. each duty, cannot fail to derive a certain degree of happiness from such a life. This does not come all at once; there must be many sad failures be fore the lesson is learned. Strong to endure as I felt myself when the star of my love went world poets, statesmen and philosophers. The poet of the fourteenth century, leading his En- dymion life, the practical man of the sixteenth, and the philosopher of the nineteenth, are speci mens of their ages, and can no more be taken I began to be afraid of Miss Georgians. I found myself growing nervous at her approach. Once, Jones asked me, with a timid, sickly smile, “What she could mean?” Jones hadn’t the courage to resist her; but I made a point of avoiding the moonlight strolls and the senti mental songs in the shade ' parlor. In fact, I fled to Miss Wynter for re 7 . I affected a par tiality for her society in c r to avoid that of her too-sentimental sister. I pretended to have colds, and she made me rye gruel and onion syrup. She told me at length that my constitu tion was delicate, and that I needed constant at tention and nursing—that I ought not by any | means to live alone, but with some one who , knew how to take proper care of me. I replied that if I were rich enough I would hire a house keeper. She said housekeepers were merce nary—that I must find a friend who would not be influenced by pecuniary considerations alone. I answered sarcastically that if I could discover such a disinterested person, I would engage her immediately, and value her above gold. She j looked strangely, very strangely. She also acted A 1UAH UIJ OU11 IV UVU ’ O ' wiuvu down, when there was no heart to share life’s j for each other than the licentious courtiers of " George the Third for the great Shakspeare. Under the regime of civilization, woman, too, has taken a noble position despite stubborn op position. Among barbarous races, what was she but a slave of man and his beast of burden ? And to-day, far away beneath an Oriental sun, she—a wife—is pawned for her husband’s gam bling debt! Like the burning lamps floating down the stream so dark and mystic, and watched by Hindoo maidens’ eyes, woman's rights shine down the river of Time, shedding a radiance, diffusive and inextinguishable. As an actor, novelist and lecturer, she competes with the “nobler sex.” In the school-room, in the sick room, in all the private walks of happiness and misery, she has shown herself God-like in de votion, endurance and sympathy. Athwart the mind’s eye, a few lights of the present age pass; Rachel, queen of tragedy, with her black brows overshadowing those wondrous orbs—the noble Charlotte Cushman—“George Eliot ’’—and good and ill with mine, I sank into such dark ness of soul as I shudder to recall.” “ Did Sidney die ?” “To me. Two years from the day he left, I saw his marriage in a foreign paper. That was the end. Hush, God only chastens in love. I can see the guiding hand in my whole life. Do yon re member these lines in Phiebe Cary’s “Woman’s Conclusions ?” « I would not make the path I have trod More pleasaut or even, more straight or wide; Nor change my course the breadth of a hair, This way or that way, to either side.” Sadie broke the eloquent silence that fell~on both in that hushed tone we involuntarity’ use when speaking of holy things. “Mother said your life was a sacrifice, but I could not understand why.,, But you must be lonely now, the girls are married. What will you do when Walter comes for me; I am almost sorry to go.” “I do not know. I‘have been thinking of adopting”—a terrific noise startled them. “ What is it?” asked Sadie, with white lips. “An explosion, I fear; it is just time for the evening train to come down.” “ A perfect woman, nobly planned, To warn, to comfort and command,” who bore the name of Mary Summerville. Paul Hayne has sung with Southern fervor his poem, “A Thousand Years from Now.” ------ . . * , o— -— j | Ruth’s surmise was too true; the train was : what, indeed, will be the condition of man when Of course, my suit was ruined. I should not peculiarly. Hhe put her handkerchief to her almost torn in pieces; how any one escaped was so ln!in y years have come and gone, when mother have minded it so much, but for seeing those three young women in the tortoise-shell butter flies giggling behind the window-blinds as I alighted on my return. Not that. I am in the j least sensitive to ridicule, being on the contrary I remarkable for my independence of people’s I opinions; but I must confess that I felt disgusted at the coarse-mindedness of those young females. Boating? There were a couple of leaky-look- ing row-boats moored by the side of a muddy : creek, which they called a river. I hired one of these, and got the farm-boy to row me. In my ; opinion, that boy was a humbug. The boat | rocked fearfully from side to side, whirled round till I was dizzy, then shot ahead at a fear ful rate, and finally ran violently aground upon 1 our landing, throwing me backward oVer the ! seat into the dirty water at the bottom. I looked for that boy next day, but somehow could never catch sight of him except at a distance. There was good fishing, so they told me, and I resolved to try it. I had, before leaving the j city, provided myself with all the necessary par- j humbug, a mockery, a snare and a delusion ? aphernalia. It is true, I had had no experience, eyes, and said that she was willing to do what j a miracle. Ruth’s home was close to the disas she could, if I were really in earnest. I assured her that I was so. Next day, Jones and Miss Georgiana made such a persistent point of al ways leaving ns alone together, that I began to suspect something; and when that night Jones said, slapping me on the shoulder, “ Well, old fellow, and so it seems that we are to be kinsfolk, hey?” I felt as though a bombshell had burst at ! my feet. I wrote to Miss Wynter. I told her that I had just received information of the dan- | gerous illness of a friend, and must hasten home. I enclosed the amount of the bill and fled. Would you believe that that woman followed j me? Would you credit that she threatened a suit for breach of promise ? And that she finally delicately hinted a willingness to withdraw it for j a “pecuniary consideration?” I paid her two 1 hundred dollars. Rather expensive charge, hey, for a month’s “board in the country?” Now, sir, am I or am I not correct in asserting j that advertisements of country board are all a I ter, and it was fast filled with the wounded. Not until every sufferer had been made as com fortable as possible, and provided with a careful Earth has grown a hundred centuries more aged ? Will he steal from nature the secrets of her gen itive and life-giving forces, and stride onward in civilization ? Will he grasp from the myste- nurse, did Ruth think ot rest. Too weary al- r j ous depths of science and religion some Ja- but anybody possessed of a little patience can angle. I walked four miles through a burning sun, spent a whole day tramping through mud and mire, was nearly eaten up by mosquitoes, but, though I got several bites, did not succeed ! in landing a fish. At length, I met a boy with a j long string of them, from whom I purchased a dozen. I did not mention to any one that I had ! not myself caught them. The boy said that the fish in this river were sluggish, and in warm weather could not be caught except by first stir ring them up with a long pole or a few rocks. This accounts for his having, with a common ; hook and twine, caught so many, while I, with my patent rod and artificial flies, failed to take one. Finding their “riding, fishing and boating” all humbug, I gave up these, and sought to amuse myself with walking. The first time I went into the meadow, I was chased by a bull, sir—a live bull! I succeeded in climbing a fence ! and thence mounting into a tree, where I re mained for two hours, while that ferocious beast tore round and round, bellowing and pawing up the earth in the most frightful manner. Mrs. Hodgins and a boy at length came to my rescue, and drove the creature away. After that, I avoided the meadows and tried the woods; but there 1 saw snakes, or things that looked like snakes; and in short, I found not a safe place on all that large farm where it was possible for a stout, quiet, elderly gentleman to take a peaceful ramble in safety. Once a wild colt persisted in running around and charging at me until I thought the creature had gone mad. ' And on another occasion, a whole flock of sheep, ; led by a ferocious-looking black ram, advanced toward me with wild eyes and uplifted head, as if meditating a grand charge. I gave up walking abroad, and confined my- i self to the yard and garden. But here, too, were annoyances. I could not step out of the house | without being instantly surrounded by a gab bling and hissing flock of geese, which persisted in following luy footsteps, to say nothing of a great turkey cock, which the moment he caught sight of me would strut toward me in a rage, ut- j tering'hideous cries, and with everv feather on end. Finally, I was compelled to limit my exercise to a promenade on the long porch; but here . were always half a dozen curs of every age and . species, and if there is one thing of which I have a horror above all others, it is hydrophobia. I was driven from the porch by their incessant snarling, snapping and barking, and took refuge at length in my own room as the only available, , safe and quiet retreat. But here the chickens walked in and out by day, and the frogs in truded themselves by night. On one occasion, a stray pig found his way under my bed, and on i another a bat knocked over my candlestick as I was reading. Then the noises at night! What j with the croaking of frogs, the hooting of owls, and innumerable locusts, whip-poor-wills and j katydids, I did not close my eyes the three first nights of my stay, and indeed, felt that under no circumstances could I become reconciled to it. As to the mosquitoes, their name was legion [For The Sunny South.] RUTH’S LOVE. most to move, yet too sympathetic to sleep, she drew an easy chair to her own bedside and pre pared to watch by the lovely young creature, who lay there^ white and still, as if the little white hands were folded forever. Presently the great, dark eyes opened, and the sweetest of voices asked, “Are you at leisure now ? Will you please write a note to my hus band and tell him where and how I am? He will be so anxious. I should like him to come at once. “Yes, certainly, with pleasure; what is his address ?” Did Ruth hear right ? Was the floor slipping from under her feet, and the rush and roar of Niagara filling her ears ? How sepulchral her voice sounded, when she asked again for the number of his office! All that long night, and the longer day that followed, as she kept her untiring care of his wife, Ruth was nerving herself for the coming, cob’s ladder, and ascend unto an estate as perfect as that in which Adam awoke, and, lifting his voice among the flowery walks of primal para dise, sang his matin hymn to the Great Omnipo tent ? [For The Sunny South.] THIS AND THAT. SOME MA'ESTIONS THAT PERPLEX ME. When we read the long array of “Answers to Correspondents ” in The Sunny South, we feel like rushing wildly to its benevolent editor to solve the many perplexing questions that startle ns daily—all of them within range of a possible solution; though at the same time we think he might groan under his burden of interrogation BY OLIVE LEAF. “Cousin Ruth, why is it you have never mar ried?” Sadie Gordon had been telling of her own en gagement, and something in the eyes of her host- i ess, a sad, wistful expression that spoke the pain and regret of long years, prompted the question. Ruth Linton's sweet face paled and her voice quivered as she answered: “Because I could love but once. You thought hard of my refusing Dr. Leigh, but I had no heart to give?” j “Please forgive me; I did not mean to wound ; you.” i “I am not hurt. You said just now that life had been all happiness since Walter loved you, and a thought of what might have been saddened ; me. I was two years younger than you when a young law student became an inmate of our ; house. I loved him from the first. He was so noble, so much superior to the young men I had met in society. I knew something of his history. Youdil«m» I wfis,_Lbonore.d LhJsou who had sup- ' ported a widowed mother. I respected the man who had educated himself and was winning golden opinions from men of sterling worth. 1 might have grown to be a woman of fashion, but he roused to action all the latent good in my na ture. How pitiful and insignificant my former life seemed. I know the sun never more surely warmed a flower into life than his influence did my better self, though I did not feel the truth then as I do now. “My eighteenth birthday, father gave me a grand ball. That night was the noonday of my life. It can come to a woman but once, that brightest of hours, when she learns the love of a true heart, God’s precious gift to the erring race, is hers. Sidney Darrel loved me! That was joy ! enough. We were both so young that the years we must wait before he could win a name and , home were but silver-fringed clouds in our sum- j mer-time of love. “Father had always shown Sidney every possible kindness. My own brother could not : have received more confidence and respect from j him, and I was utterly unprepared for his refu sal when we asked him to sanction our engage- j ment. I am afraid I displayed too much of the ! Linton pride and temper, for father grew very j angry and sent me to stay with grandmother, while Sydney should remain in our house, which you know was not long. We had one interview. Sydney would have released me, but I would not be free. I said I would wait years, if need be, for my father’s consent, feeling sure that consent was only withheld because of Sydney’s poverty. ^ , points, surely piercing to the innermost parts of praying for strength to meet this Sidney of long the spirit. We thought of it again, and more ve- ago. God help her; human will is too weak to bemently to-day, while plucking, en passant, a control human hearts. She was standing by the spray of exquisite crepe myrtle trom a neighbor- . window when he came, outwardly calm—only i * n ” y ar, t- and throngs of memories rushed tu- the shadowy, violet eyes and sensitive mouth multuously through the mind. I his delicate telling that she was suffering. “ Miss Linton, will you please come here, so Col. Darrel may see who has been so kind to me?” Ruth turned, made one step towards them, then stopped. Was it the light of the setting sun that bathed the white face with such radiant beauty ? Colonel Darrel smiled as he took both hands in his own, and listened to the low, murmured words of welcome. Out of the house, away from everybody, her swift feet went. Down in the tangled orchard grass her joyful thanksgiving was poured out to Him who watches the spar row’s fall. There was a mistake somewhere; this blonde-haired man was not the lover of her heart. A shadow fell before her as she rose from her knees, but she did not see it. “I believe he has been true all these sad years.” He has. Ruth— my Ruth !” Sidncj-F It wa.' hie very <=e ,f «fno<IiT>g there—the old light in his eyes, the old smile on his care-worn face; his hands holding her own, as in bygone days. “My darling, I never knew, until you wrote that letter to my cousin Sydney, that you were not married.” Explanations followed, interspersed with smiles and tears. We have nothing to do with these. But Sadie was bridesmaid soon after, and now there are two Mrs. Sidney Darrels. [For The Sunny South.] THE REGIME OF CIVILIZATION. BY SILVIA HOPE. How striking, how revolutionizing, how indi vidualizing has civilization been upon man! The Indian, in his wigwam beneath the forest tree; the African, ’mid his deep jungles; the Hottentot, even the Hindoo, whose “melan choly, meditative eyes ” retain tokens of that ancient race from whence mythology and mys tical philosophy are derived, afford significant illustrations of this fact. Mark their features. The brow is narrow, the nose flat, the eyes dull, the skin coarse, and the limbs, though symmet rical and lithe, lacking in that refinement and delicacy of contour to be found only among peo- myrtle holds the subtlest breath and fire of the sunbeams that delight to drift into its rosy flut- ings, and take there noon-slumber. It is then, and only then that its subtle and inimitable perfume ' is smelled. Its emblem is love. One breath of its fragrance ! and waves of memories and senti- I ments, half lost in their divine etheriality, troop in upon the soul with flood-tide swiftness, bear ing down the Present and enthroning the Fast, deified and robbed of all that ever left a shadow on the heart; then it was penetrated by “thoughts too deep for tears.” Again we w ished to ask, why ! is the perfmne of a flower so potent? Possibly | you may not have seen this bloom of your : choice for years, or thought of the associations linking it to a past era, bin. at the first touch of its fragrance, you behold tlie dead past returned in all the beautiful robes of lift-; “ For slight withal may be the thiugs which bring Back on the heart the weight which it would fling Aside forever; it may be a sound— A tone of music—summers-eve—or spring— A lj-.rtVr—the 1C 2.:i—the ecean— which shell wound .Striking the eliotric chain wherewith we are darkly bound.” True, a tone of music, a certain glimpse of land scape, a voice, a melody, may awaken in the caverns of the soul echoes of hushed music yo- have pined to hear; but the scent of a Howe recall the dearest bliss, the sweetest memories the heart ever knew, and with these the afflu ence of love, and all the heavenliness of its in spiration. So we mused; thinking, too, of how little the planter of that myrtle tree knew of the silent en joyment another, for whom not intended, would realize from its blooming. Of course it was a woman’s planting, and could she have looked down the years to its perfect growth, and seen a wanderer reaping a secret pleasure thereof, sud denly surrounded by a troop of glorious mem ories, would she not have planted them till the “’desert bloomed as the rose ” for many a weary traveler? She intended good, and “a good in tention clothes itself with power. When a god wishes to ride, any chip or pebble will bud or shoot out winged feet, and serve him for a horse.” Did it ever occur to you, youthful reader, how infinite is the beautiful ?—how surely that, when planting selfishly for ourselves, we are, uncon sciously oft, sowing an hundred joys for some unknown, who will through soul-light transmit their bliss down the years, until waves of liappi- clandestinety’, and so we met only by chance. “Four long years of waiting, hoping and toil ing. With each, my fondest dreams of his suc cess were realized. Competence was his at last, and such laurels as he had won might have graced a king’s brow. We went to my father on pie of civilized countries. Upon the animal kingdom, remodelings have ■ ness hither may touch the crystal walls of heaven been made through man's agency, changing the ° itself? One of our best writers has truly said: “Life is a boundless privilege, and when you pay for your ticket and get into the car, you have no guess what good company you shall find there. You buy much that is not rendered in the bill. ” And so does the beautiful, like a si red and golden fruit, that astonishes the eye of lent divinity or goddess, stand ever in your path the beholder. A magic wand has waved over ; with open hands bearing offerings for your soul; Flora’s realm, and weeds, Cinderella-like, have if you do not like them, that is your own blind- color, form and instinct; within the vegetable Sidney Darrell was too true to do anything \ world, the pomologist’s hand is carefully traced. ' ' Bitter, poisonous almonds have yielded luscious peaches; hard, sour crab-apples, basking in European suns, have been perfected into great, and caterpillars were of one of the plagues of my twenty-second birthday, confidently expect- I doffed their homely garments and appeared in I ness. She knows naught of mine and thine. Egypt swarming on the vines around my win dow, crawling on my pillow, swimming in my wash-basin, and making my blood run cold with their unexpected wriggling down my back or behind my ears. I could not stand it, sir—I could not support the want of proper food, exer cise and sleep. Above all, I was disgusted with the perpetual coarse tittering of those three young women in the butterflies, and at the end of a fortnight, I left. The advertisement which next attracted my attention was as follows: “Delightful country board, in a small private family, for one or two single gentlemen. Pic turesque scenery. Refined and cultivated soci ety. Home comforts. Unexceptionable refer ences required. Address M. W., Woodbine Cot tage," etc. The answer to my letter was satisfactory, ex cept that the terms were rather high. However, I went to Woodbine Cottage. Why jt was called so I don’t know, unless that there wasn’t a sprig of woodbine on the place. Neither was it a cot tage, but a dingy brick house of the shabby- genteel sort. The family consisted of Miss Wynter, a stiff, precise, middle-aged lady, and Miss Georgiana Wynter, whose age it was more difficult to decide upon. She said she was five- and-twenty; I should set her down as some dozen years older. She was tall and thin. She wore her hair in a curly crop, like a school-girl. She had very pink cheeks, and a perpetual ami able simper. She was always quoting poetry. Sometimes she was remarkably sprightly, and then again would appear pensive and languish ing. She said she had never in her life met with a kindred spirit, and that she felt very lonely in consequence. She seng sentimental songs, and was partial to strolling on the lawn in the moonlight, and she always managed to get either Jones or myself to accompany her on these strolls. Jones was the other boarder. The Misses Wynter were very genteel. They had superior table-linen and French china. They served us with weak tea from an old silver ing his cordial consent. Mine was not a patient heart, and I could hardly bear his cold, pitiless | rejection of Sidney this second time, when no i reason was apparent. The bitter truth came at ! last. For months I had received marked atten tion from a reputed millionaire. I had felt like a guilty creature in doing so, for I hold human hearts too sacred to be sported with, but father had left me no chance to avoid him, and I could not see where I was drifting Father was on the eve of bankruptcy, and Gilbert Morris would save his sinking credit at the price of my hand. Don’t blame poor old father for urging me to this loveless marriage. I know he suffered in finitely more than Sidney or I. My step mother was ill—dying, we thought, with con sumption. She was reared in luxury, and it was terrible to my father to think of her bearing pov erty. I could not sacrifice myself, but I had some property left me by my own mother, and that sustained my father’s credit while my step mother lived, which was only three months longer. “The morning before I gave Gilbert Morris my final answer, I received a note from Sid ney, saying he would sail within an hour for Europe—that, as I was to be the wife of another, he must travel to forget the past. “I looked for him to come to me when the crash came and father died; but he never even wrote. Still, I believed he would come back, and in this belief lived and worked. “There was no time to sit and nurse my grief. My young step-sisters, Essie and Daisy, anil myself must be supported. This dear old place of grandma Kirks was left me; I had uncle Eben, our faithful old gardener, so I commenced mar ket gardening for a living. I tried teaching, too; but it was so confining, I gave it up after one term. I then added a small dairy to my garden, and by close economy was enabled to live com fortably, even happily-” “ Happily ?” questioned undisciplined Sadie. “ Yes; I do think any one who cultivates a sub missive spirit, and conscientiously performs robes so dazzling that the heavens, with their All is thine if you will, though you may not own purple anil sapphire-tinted raiments, might j standing-room on God’s footstool! And more- blush with chagrin at such rivalry. In all conditions of life, in all ages, civiliza tion has been marked. Its architectural fingers have made modifications and improvements upon the palace of the soul, specific and determined; and these, in turn, have wrought changes upon the body and face—the out-dwelling and win dow of the inner man. “ Like produces like.” This we see in every condition of the children of time. The unedu cated man, with his predominant animality, writes upon his face with severe fidelity the war waging between good and evil in his soul. The refined man, passing his life in thought and stu dious pursuits, manifests to us the truth that the higher the culture, the more varied the ex pression and the nearer to beauty’s perfection. The physical man is thus but a photograph of the mental and spiritual man; and the magnetic influence which the French thaumaturge has named I’esprit deviro, is the connecting link be tween body and soul. In different eras, men have lived and died, and left monuments of themselves in the shape of noble heads and features. The beautiful, poetical face of Chaucer, the parent of English poetry, can never be forgotten. One could look and admire forever the broad, open brow, mastering the lower part of the face at will, the straight sensi tive nose, the sweet mouth, soft as a woman’s and poetical in extreme—a mouth that Adam m ight have possessed in his most innocent days— and the chin, round and humane. What a grand expression is that of Milton! It is chiseled from a mind of sorrowful intel lect, comparable with none save, perhaps, that of “ the blind old man of Scio’s rocky isle,” who begged his daily bread as, traveling from town to town, he sang his lays to the music of the harp. The Elizabethan Age stands in bold relief in the stride of civilization. Giant intellect aroused itself from priestly domination, and gave to the | over, “a man is a beggar who only lives to the useful, for however he may serve as a pin or rivet in the social machine, he cannot be said to have arrived at self-possession. He does not now the charm with which all moments and ob jects can be embellished.” Musing thus on the pleasure given by a little flower, we felt the loveliest gratitude, and trom gratitude we reasoned of virtue, Christian virtue, and another question arose that we lugged in for solution by the kind editor: Why is it that prim itive Christianity, founded on “love thy neighbor as thyself ” seems forever banished from any prac tical usage? When the highest code of morals, the Bibe, commands “ forgive seventy-times- seven,” “lend hoping for nothing in return; and we note it a common occurrence with the church people, espousers of the cause of Christ, to refuse a neighbor the use of a hoe, or a horse, or a bucket of water, or a seat in his carriage, or charity to his thought, patience for his weak ness, light and sense for his lack of wisdom, we very much fear that there is a deal of theory, not much practice or works, and still less of feeling, or religion; religion, which also means love, or God. Hushing these queries, with their brood of hard, or bitter, or lofty reflections, we further thought on the “times out of joint,” and again stumbled on a rock of offense in the question, Why do men, en masse, ignore or dread fine cul ture, fine acquirements, exalted virtues, unusual attributes in women ? Or in other words, Why do they, in taking the most fatal step in life, sel dom choose an equal or a superior? Without citing evidences of the fact, we leave the subject, and hope the editor will examine the long array of evidence, solve the problem and “teach them a lesson.” A half-finished horn, a slab-sided ’possum dog, and a club-ax, make a nigger as happy as a June-bug.