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The sunny South. (Atlanta, Ga.) 1875-1907, December 04, 1875, Image 5

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[For The Sunny South.] THE ORtrAX-trRISDEIL BY CLAUDE. ‘•Come, play me a tune,” a little child lisp’d; “Come, play me a tune that is gay.” So the orgau man lifted the box from his back; And sweet was the tune he did play, And many the dancers that gather'd around— Yet each one his own measure treads; And little they thought that the music they bought Was tearing a heart into shreds. Ah! many a tree that is noble and grand, When Winter has freighted with snow, Shall wither; yet Spring will soon kiss the sod, And the roses in stead may yet grow'. So little we dream, when day after day We pass by the lowly we meet, That many a heart has been drifted from pain By a beggar who starres in the street; For while at the portal of yon castle gay, Stands its mistress so loveably fair, Her father is asking a pittance for bread From her child who plays wantonly there. Yet morn unto night have those skeleton hands Enwrapt her so close to that breast, And oft and again those now wither’d lips To her childish cheeks have been press’d. But riches are strong, and woman, when fair, Is courted but seldom for nought; And hearts that are crippled with trouble and care Are oftentimes easily bought. So now the old hovel is lonely and drear, When night clouds their shadows have spread; There are no tender lingers to soothen his brow— None to break the dry crust of his bread. The rickety chairs yet stand by the grate, Where they sat at the edge of the night; And the odd-fashion’d lamp, tho’ broken, still burns As fair as when she used to light. And the good story-book is lying hard-by; Its leaves are all ragged from age— For when we have loved the bird that has flown, It is hard then to part with the cage. And tho’ even she whom he’d struggled to keep From the storms and the tempest of life, Has forsaken, forgotten, neglected him—all Since riches have claimed her for wife— Yet Summer and Winter, in sunshine or rain, Each day the old orgau he plays; And the tunes are the same, in life’s darkest shade, As the tunes of his sunnier days. But soon shall the frettings and pangs of regret By the whispers of Death be all stilled, And the heart that is crowded by sorrowing grief With Eternity’s peace shall be filled. When we close our eyes for the long silent sleep, And our souls bid adieu to the tomb, We shall learn there are flowers that blossom at morn, Yet others at night only bloom. no voice in these matters, but -virtually, how many votes do they cast! how many contests de cide ! A matter of more moment claims the attention of the fair sex. Hearts are won and ruled by beauty; beauty may be the gift of nature; may consist in classic face, in graceful form; may be the impress of deep intellect or cultured mind; may be a true index of sweet temper, of lovely character—whatever it be, its possessor knows that its charms are heightened, its power in creased by becoming apparel. To array herself in such garments is every one’s duty; and right nobly do many of them perform that duty ! Why, | then, should she not dress with care, with study, ■ with becomingness ? This is but another way j of presenting beautiful views of life. Let critics and reformers howl and shriek of the follies of ; to-day, decry our extravagances and bemoan : our devotion to fashion, we are no worse than | our mothers, our grandmothers, our great-grand mothers, or our maternal ancestors since the ! day when Eve reigned queen in the hearts of all mankind. Indeed, we are better than all our ancestors, for we have reached almost perfection in fabrics, delicate and multitudinous shades, soft blending of colors, graceful and comfortable . styles of dresses, cloaks and bonnets, making no mention of the thick boots and cozy underwear. I Yes, we thank the Fates that we live in this age, when fashion has reached the acme of perfec tion, and think we are more fortunate than any of our grandmothers. IV e aver that Queen Eliz abeth would willingly have resigned half her power over mc-n s hearts and destinies, ambi tious though she was, could she have arrayed herself in some of the fairy-like costumes that are being worn at some of the weddings of the season. The bride’s dress was of reps silk front with brocaded train. Long sprays of flowers, orange blossoms and crush roses, intertwined with lilies of the valley, trailed over the drapery and were wreathed with the soft tulle vail, through which sparkled diamonds in rich brilliance, the gift of the groom. Simplicity and elegance were the distinguishing marks of the entire toilette. If any beauty could be added to the exquisite grouping of lovely faces, gallant knights and su perb toilettes, it was furnished by the rare ar rangement of flowers, among which the delicate smilax was profusely found, twined in garlands round the chancel rail, pendant in festoons from the chandeliers, plants and bouquets within the altar emitting delicious perfumes. From the church, the party proceeded to the house of the bride’s parents, where music, danc ing and feasting were continued until midnight; and the next day, Mr. and Mrs. Bridgeford started on a trip eastward. Among the beautiful array of presents were a multitude of pieces of solid silver, oil paintings, handsome bronze and many choice floral designs. No friend seemed willing to forget the occasion, and all seemed glad to offer a testimonial of affection. We have had a succession of grand weddings, and more are expected, but none can exceed the magnifi cent display of this, the artistic beauty of the ar rangements at the church, the elegance of the toilettes, the sumptuous supper and decorations. Huldah Hill. [For The Sunny South. “The Gentleman from New Orleans.” BT AIT.EE PORTER. One afternoon I stood leaning against the ticket ofiice in the Union Depot, listlessly watch ing the bustle, crowds and trivial incidents at tendant upon the arrival and departure of trains. As the new arrivals passed by, I noted those whom I knew to be sufficiently distinguished to figure in next day’s “personals.” All at once, my attention was called to a couple entering the reception-room. The man was tall, black-haired and black-moustached, had brilliant, sinister black eyes, faultless teeth, thin hands tapering like a lady's, was genteel in appearance and graceful in manner. The lady was a young and beautiful girl, hardly seven teen, a sunny blonde, quiet and demure, and evidently an uncultivated country girl—a real child of nature. I made these mental memor anda as I stepped to the door and saw the man stow the girl nicely in a seat at the furthest cor ner of the room. Then he came out through the door into the dej>ot, and as he passed me I “spotted” him, to use a detective slang word. He had attracted my attention, because I thought the moment I saw him that he was to a convenient station, ordering the arrest and detention of our man. Two hours later, a dispatch announced that he was safe in the hands of officers, and upon the arrival of the late night train, we had the ex treme felicity of escorting Mr. Paul Deslonde and his baggage to the jail. Miss Lula's money and a small amount belonging to himself had been taken from him by the capturing officers. He was furious, passionately angry, and swore vengeance upon all who were concerned in the “ dastardly outrage,” as he was pleased to style his arrest. When asked by the chief of police to explain his conduct, he refused, saying that he would explain only to Miss Lula, and that she would understand and acquit him, and to this end he demanded to be taken where she was. I stepped up to him and said: “ Gus, you can’t see her!" At the mention of his name, he stared vio lently at me in astonishment. “Gus Daly, since he became ‘Mr. Paul Des londe, of New Orleans,’ doesn't seem to remem ber old acquaintances !” I laughingly remarked. “Who the devil are you?" he exclaimed, an ger and surprise mingling in the question. “ I thought you never would forget me, Gus, although I am a trifle older than when I wrote up that knifing affair of yours in New Orleans, an old acquaintance—now I knew I was correct, j and have some more beard on my face than (Tor The Sunny South.] THAT BABY. BY H. B. B. There never was such a baby; everybody said This brings to mind some of the jealous re- so, and we all know that what everybody says [For The Sunny South.] LETTER FROM LOUISVILLE. The Gay Season—Theatres —Olive Logan — Opera an«l Amateur Theatricals—The Con test for the Mayoralty—Matrimonial Epi demic—A Wedding in High hife—Gorgeous Florul Decorations — Elegant Bridal Cos tumes and Presents. What, what shall I tell you of? The gayest of gay seasons is upon us. The winter is fully in augurated. Parties and weddings and recep tions are innumerable. The town is fairly alive and society in constant preparation for a coming event, declared by the lovers of pleasure to ex ceed all others in magnificence, or pausing to take a moment's rest from the last grand dissipa tion. Amusements, too, abound—dramatic, literary and musical. Each evening, intellectual feasts are spread for the hungry, and all invited to partake at the—price of admission. How foolish we Southern people are in regard to reserved or take-’em-as-you-can-get-’em seats ! Now, in New York, if you can’t afford to pay a high price for a ticket to a reserved seat, you feel no hesitancy in taking one in a less aristocratic location. We are very independent, but a disregard of ridicule would result in profit to our minds, and a saving of many pennies. By the way, Louisvilie re joices now in the successful introduction of the penny system, after repeated attempts on the part of the more economic of our population. We fear that the reputation we enjoy of being too religious to support more than one theatre is too flattering; but true or false, Macauley’s is the only first-class. Here we have had McCullough nnd Barrett in pure tragedy, and have been edi fied thereby. On Thanksgiving night, “Borneo and Juliet ” drew a crowd, with the additional marks in which other city papers have indulged. “ Louisvills must be nearly without pretty girls by this time, such a lively trade in the matrimo nial market!” was the observation of a Southern newspaper. No danger of our number of pretty girls being diminished, though the number of marriages be increased ten-fold. All the debut antes are pretty as are the belles going off so rap idly. Never within the memory of that oldest inhabitant—who, by the by, has not died yet— has been known such a matrimonial epidemic. The contagion seems to have spread throughout the land, invading all ranks and conditions of society, and choosing an equal number of vic tims of both sexes. In our city, even' week wit nesses the nuptials of some belle and beau in high life, each rivaling its predecessor in some feature of elegance of display, or in a novel way of conducting the church services. Though a description of many would be delightful read ing, let me give details of the last, which took place on the twenty-fourth,—that of Miss Made line Bobinson, daughter of J. M. Bobinson, Esq., to Mr. Will Bridgeford, a society beau and enter prising business young man. The ceremony took place in Christ church, the oldest in the city. Tickets of admission to the church were enclosed with the cards of invita tion to the guests, thus securing the presence of only chosen friends, and shutting out the mob of curiosity seekers, who usually flock to such scenes. Eight o’clock was the appointed hour, but, of course, the bridal party were late. While the guests waited, Professor Hast, who had charge of the music for the occasion, gave a per fect feast of opera airs and strains from well- must be true. “ The loveliest,” “the darlingest,” “ the sweet est,” “the beautifulest.” Oh, there never was such a baby! “He’s got my foot,” says grandma No. 1. “ And my hand,” quoth grandma No. 2. “His eyes are exactly like mine,” said Aunt Ellen. “And his nose like mine,” said the other! auntie. “He’s a Thompson all over,” quoth one! grandma. “He’s a Wilson up and down,” quoth the | other. “ His toes are like mine, I think,’’said mamma, anxious to claim some part of baby. In short, that baby is discovered to resemble j every member of the family on both sides of i the house, much to the disgust of its fond father, j who hoped for the sake of its beauty that it j would resemble himself. Indeed, to behold that much congratulated | and wholly uncomfortable individual holding j the baby is a scene worthy of the pencil of an artist. “Of course, ‘papa’ must hold him first,” says j the nurse, and he sits with arms outstretched ! and limbs trembling, holding that baby much after the manner of one who holds a hot potato. ! He has sat thus for full fifteen minutes—it seems j like ages—without so much as moving a muscle, [ or lifting an eye-lid, so fearful is he of crushing the soft, jelly-like little morsel, bundled up in muslin and flannel. “Let me have him now,” begs Aunt Ellen, j eagerly extending her arms, and papa yields A slight deformity of his left ear fixed his iden tity beyond question, the aforesaid ear having been chewed out of shape by a bar-room loafer in Nashville in 1872. Mentally, I said: “Mr. Gus Daly, the Chesterfieldian gambler, I believe ?” Then, as Gus’ hair was of genteel length, I began to count up how many months he could have had since turned loose from the Tennessee penitentiary, to which Judge Frazier sent him for a nice little “bunko ” operation in the early days of 1873. Just then Daly came by me again, rattling the checks for a couple of trunks which he had put when I helped you into the Tennessee penten- | tiarv on account of that $2,000 bunko trick.” j “Porter?’’ he uttered inquiringly. | “Yes; that’s the name !” “I owe you three now, you infernal little rat!’’ I and he bit his lip in his rage. “All right, Gussie,” I laughed; “if you ever pay me they'll be the first debts you ever volun- j tarily settled, ” and I left him to go to the hotel j to inform Lula of our success. ! She was overwhelmed with joy and gratitude, | and a very happy frame of mind came to her, making her look and act doubly handsome. I warned her to go to rest and refresh herself for upon an outgoing train. He stepped up to the ! next day’s trial, and then I went to the office and window of the ticket office, and bought one ticket through to New Orleans. I thought he should have bought two, as he had a lady with him; but perhaps he had only been politely as sisting her off the train, and she was awaiting friends, who were to call for her. Doubtless, this was true, for the VYest-Point train blew its signal and started, and Gus stepped politely on board, entering the Pullman sleeping coach. Soon all the trains had pulled out of the shed, the gates over the tracks locked, and the place deserted, with the exception of several porters and railroad officers. I stood near the recep tion-room door, waiting for a friend who was in side the ticket office transacting some business with the ticket agent. Suddenly, I saw the girl “wrote up” my old acquaintance for the third time in my reportorial career, and each time in a different city. Next day Miss Lula was bright and blithe as you please; Gus sullen and dejected, and I was happy. Tfie trial came off easily, for Gus waived an examination, and was committed to jail in de fault of a bond for his appearance at the next term of the Superior Court. Miss Lula received her money and baggage, and I had the pleasure of seeing her safely on the train, homeward bound, feeling amply re warded for my part in the work by the sweet smiles and kind words which she lavished upon She reached home safely, astounded, and loved ballads, in many of which “ the old, old : him to her with a sigh of relief, saying in a con- j story was told once more. While commenting on the concluding strains of a sweet melody, the majestic tones of the cel ebrated march from Tannhaeuser pealed forth, and the relatives of the groom entered and took the seats reserved for them. The march contin ued, and the parents of the bride, with Mr. and Mrs. Garvin Bell, the latter a sister of the bride; came in. There was a pause of a few minutes, an interval in the music, the doors were opened wide, and the ever welcome “Wedding March” from Mendelsohn announced the coming of the bride. Now, a hush falls on whispering tongues and all eyes are turned toward the broad aisle. I fidential tone: “He feels like a hot poultice.” “A hot poultice !” screams grandma No. 1 in dignantly, while the nurse retires to conceal her laughter. “I never heard anything like it,” pipes grandma No. 2. “Oh, Edward, I wouldn’t havn-Jipljeved it,” comes in a smothered voice from under the bed clothes. “I knew how it would be all along,” snuffs grandma No. 1, who has the gift of foresight in a remarkable degree. Yes, I told Sarah a year ago he’d never care -'j --------- - - “ J '•*** wuau What a lovely scene! The youthful friends of! anything for that child,” chimes in grandma the bride and groom have been chosen to attend 1 — - - them to their marriage, to rejoice with them in this happy hour and to hear their solemn vows. The attendants came slowly down theaisle, eight couples in number, and took their places alter nately on the right and left sides of the altar, leaving the space immediately in front for the bridal pair. Dr. Craik, the venerable rector of the church, assisted by Bishop Dudley, then read the impressive service of the Episcopal No. 2, who would have made an excellent clair voyant had she ever turned her attention to it. “He never did have the feelings of a father,” adds grandma No. 1, which is undeniably a re markable speech, considering that this son and heir is the berated father’s first-born. “I wouldn’t mind it, Edward,” laughs Aunt Ellen, as the crest-fallen papa, who all this time has stood with his back to the fire, and his hands behind him, suddenly flies from the scene of his two hearts that had been united almost from childhood. Immediately following the benediction, as the new-made husband and wife rose from their knees, a song of joy greeted them from the choir of the church, wlio were all personal friends. These were joined by others, among them, Mrs. C. G. Davidson, that sweetest of singers. What a beautiful idea was this singing of friends ! Po etic indeed, and Arcadian in simplicity of con ception, though artistic in skillful execution. The words seem the impulsive outburst of affec- attraction of the debut of a lady of this city as j tion, of friendly congratulation, of warm-hearted horses and mules!” So, thought I, Gus is up to some of his old tricks again. The young lady who gave me her name, not necessary to be mentioned here, went on to tell how Mr. Deslonde had boarded with her wid- church, thus joining the hands and fortunes of 1 discomforture, while that angel baby unfeelingly I owed mother; how he had made himself almost J 1 ■“ sleeps, careless of the pain he has been the who had come in with Gus Daly step to the door confounded her mother with the story of her ‘ adventures, and luckily escaped the gossips, as her engagement with Deslonde, alias Daly, had not been publicly known, and my report avoided that fact. A few days after Daly’s committal, a Nashville paper published the account of his exploit, and soon after there came an officer from Nashville with a requisition for Daly, who was wanted to answer an indictment for shooting, with intent to kill, at another gambler. He ran away, and had been “lying out” at B . In the mean time, he was dealing in stock lightly, and giv ing his bills of sales to some horse-thieves in that section, with whom he was connected, they using the genuine biils to assist in the sale of stolen horses. Gus was taken back to Nashville, and sentenced to five year’s imprisonment. Lula has never ceased to be thankful for her delivery from his machinations, and that she suffered no worse than she did from her associa tion with him. Her experience learned both herself and her mother to be wary of suitors, but despite all their care and caution, one has been successful in his wooing, and last week Lula came again to Atlanta for her trousseau. She had no adventure this time worthy of note, and as I am to go up soon and report the wed ding ceremonies, I will not tell who “the gen tleman from New Orleans ” is who has won Lula’s heart this time. and look out. She glanced her eyes hurriedly over the deserted place, and shrank back with a troubled, frightened expression upon her face. “What’s up now?” I mused. “Her friends have probably forgotten that she was to come to the city to-day, or perhaps they didn’t recognize her when Daly escorted her out of the cars.” As these things passed through my mind, I heard low, convulsive sobs coming from the in side of the reception-room. I knew she was crying, and in evident distress. I went inside and spoke to her: “My dear young lady, you are in trouble? Please let me assist you, if I can.” “Oh, sir!” and she raised her beautiful, tear- filled and pleading eyes to me; “you are very good, and I am lost and ruined !” Then a fit of weeping prevented her speaking for some minutes, after which I again spoke: “What is the trouble, Miss, that I may help you out of it, if there is a way out ? Here is my card, and you need not fear to speak freely and frankly.” She looked at the card, and then dried her tears partially. She told me her story in its de tails, first asking: “ Did you see Mr. Deslonde, the gentleman who brought me here ?” “Mr. Deslonde? Was the gentleman who brought you from the cars into this room Mr. Deslonde ?” “Yes, sir; his name is Mr. Paul Deslonde, and his home is New Orleans. For several months, he has been at II——, buying and dealing in ‘Juliet.” Lectures abound, readings and reci tations are numerous. On Friday, the twenty- sixth, Olive Logan, with her fund of anecdote, her pleasant voice and fascinating manners, de- lixered her lecture on “Successful People.” As j usual, her audience was very large, and she was I well repaid. Miss Logan must be one of the few j advisers whose theory and practice conform, for | she has certainly proven “successful.” All the musical clubs have organized for the | winter, and will soon begin to give publio re- | hearsals. The third of December is now ap pointed for the opera “Bohemian Girl,” with j Miss Mattie Hopkins Clark in the role of Ailine. j Though we do not anticipate the professional j acting that we do from a regular opera troupe, I the music will be faultless, and that, of course, I is the value of opera. The “Mozart” promises other feasts during the season. There are a host of private dramatic and lit- j erary clubs, whose attempts at comedy and even tragedy evince much talent on the part of the j members, and furnish instruction and pleasure for the long evenings. We are to have a skating rink when the weather permits it, where real fun will be found. The rink for roller skating has become the attraction ; for youth and children on holidays, and they seem to enjoy the falls and bumps and bruises more than champion success. Municipal affairs engross the gentlemen, for the mayoralty election is close at hand, and the merits of the candidates are freely discussed by the press, in the private parlor, on the street corners, from the forum, at home and abroad. Nightly bonfires illuminate the sky, crowds gather round them, hurrah for the candidate who furnishes the most to cheer the inner man on each successive occasion, have a fight and go home. One of the contestants claims to be of the people, though now rich and possessing great influence; the other, born with a silver spoon in his mouth and not a favorite with the mob. Yet the number *f the friends of each is really about the same, and the result of the contest remains a matter of doubt until the polls are closed. “ Plebian ” and “Aristocrat ” are hurled by each party to the other until we are reminded of the bloody days of the French Bevolution. Is it that to hold the highest office within the gift of his town’s people yields a fame so desirable as to make of no import the vile slanders circulated by his rival? Or is it only determination to struggle to the bitter end, and if he die, to die hard ? Or is it that the emoluments are of suffi- certainty to remunerate the immense out- 0 mores.' 0 tempores.' Women have yet wishes for the future, the natural expression of | loving hearts, eloquent as they are, the enthusi- I asm with which they were sung gave fuller rich ness to their sentiment. The chorus w r as sung ; in the original, and is the bridal chorus in the j German opera. “Lohengrin:” “ Faithful and true we lead ye forth. Where love triumphant shall crown ye with joy! Star of renown, flower of the earth, Blest be ye both far from all life's annoy. Champion victorious, go thou before! Maid bright and glorious, go thou before! Mirth's noisy revel ye've forsaken, Tonder delights for you now awaken. Fragrant abode enshrine ye in bliss, Splendor and state in joy ye dismiss. Faithful and true we lead ye forth, Where love triumphant shall crown ye with joy. Star of renown, flower of the earth, Blest be ye both far from all life’s annoy. As solemn vows unite ye, We hallow ye to joy; This hour shall still requite ye When bliss hath known alloy.” ’Twas first arranged that the attendants should enter the church from the side vestibules, the bride coming in the centre; but owing to the means of inflicting upon his paternal relative. Yes; he “sleeps all the time.” “He never cries.” “He is just the best baby in the world.” “ He’s a perfect little angel.” “ Was there ever such a baby?” “He’s grandma’s darling sugar loaf.” “Papa’s little man.” “ Mama’s tweetny meetny darling; so he is.” “He’s auntie’s inno cent, lovely angel.” Whether so much praise had a demoralizing effect upon the angel or not, we cannot say, but certain it is that before a great while that baby began to show its true character. He would wake up at the most unseasonable and unreason able hours; he would cry when there wasn’t the slightest occasion for it; he would render you liable to unjust suspicions by suddenly shriek ing as if you’d stuck a pin in him, when you were doing your “best endeavor” to soothe him to sleep. He would insist upon being trotted until your limbs were nearly dislocated, and your head ready to split; and the moment you stop to rest your aching ankles, he compelled a son, and during all this time made love to her self—the only daughter. He had been exem plary in all things—indeed, he displayed all the graces and noble phases of true manhood, and none of the vices, and both mother and daughter were charmed and captivated by the “gentleman from New Orleans.” The courting sped smoothly, and Lula (that was her given name) and Mr. Deslonde became engaged. He received not many days before a letter re-calling him at his earliest convenience to New Orleans for an indefinite period. If he and Lula were to be married it had best be done at once. The good, simple-hearted mother con sented. Mr. Paul Deslonde’s bride must shine forth as a star, and great bustle was made over the hurried event. Poor Mrs. went into the town and sold war whoop. He seems to have no pleasure ex cept in the misery and the sufferings of others. He is full of deceit, hypocrisy and fraud; he is opposed to the temperance reform, and when we try to instill temperance principles into his ten der mind, he goes off into horrible fits of colic, maliciously grows dark in the face, and threat ens to have a black spasm, until grandma, ut terly deceived by his machinations, declares that “he shall have a little toddy to ease that dreadful pain, so he shall,” whereupon he in stantly revives, and is transformed into an angel | again. Furthermore, if offered paregoric when great crowd, this programme was abandoned and | he has set his heart on toddy, he spits it in our a small tract of land, a portion of the meagre estate left by her husband, realizing S800 in cash. Mr. Deslonde was coming to Atlanta to buy his outfit, and to secure some jewels for his bride. Lula had bought some silks and mate- you to renew the amusement by giving a regular j rial, and would come to Atlanta with him to the whole party entered by the main door. The groomsmen and bridesmaids were Dr. Walling and Miss Lettie Bobinson; Mr. William Munson, of Cincinnati, and Miss Dora Bridgeford; Major Harry Campbell, of Pittsburg, and Miss Florence Dulaney; Mr. Ballard Smith and Miss Lucia Houston; Mr. A. B. Pendleton, of Virginia, and Miss Lizzie Bell: Mr. C. T. Collings and Miss , Craddock, of Frankfort; Mr. Barnie Bobinson and Miss Katie Bell; Mr. James Bridgeford and Miss Worthing, of Little Bock, Arkansas. The dresses of the bridesmaids were in white and colored silks. The Misses Bell wore white and 1 stood at the extremes of the altar. The drapery ! of their dresses was of tulle with garniture of white flowers. The next two, Misses Dulaney and Craddock, wore pink silk, with profuse dra pery of gauze de chamberey and garlands of pond lilies on the skirt and on the waist with bouquet in their hair. The next two ladies were Misses Worthing and Houston, whose dresses were of 1 corn-colored silk and gauze de chamberey drapery, with elaborate floral garniture of autumnal leaves and crush roses, bouquets of same on bosom and hair. Next to the couple to be married, one on either side, were the sisters of the bride and groom. Their dresses were of blue silk, full , drapery of crepe lisse, same shade. Miss Bobin son wore sprays of pomegranates and apple blos- faces without the smallest compunction of con science. He delights in taking unsuspecting people out of their beds on freezing-cold nights, when the fire has all gone out, and the ther mometer is down to zero, and compelling them to race up and down the floor with him until half frozen to death, when he proves that he is possessed of a demon by smilingly going off to sleep, as if nothing had happened. As he grows older, it takes the entire household to amuse him, and he tyrannizes over every one from grandpapa down; his playthings must be the very things we most value, and if refused any thing, he yells and storms around until every body is reduced to the most abject submission. “What in creation is the matter?” exclaims papa, startled from his afternoon siesta by one of baby’s yells. “ Why, Edward, he wants me to give him my pearl necklace to play with,” expostulates mama. “Give him the devil,” ejaculated papa sav agely. “Fortunately, he doesn’t want him, Edward,” answered mama in a congratulatory tone, as she surrenders the coveted necklace. “Datso, missus,” chuckles black mammy; “ef he did, you done hab to bring up ole Nick out of his hole long ’fore dis.” And that baby, having carried his point, soms—an exquisite garniture. MissBridgeford’s 1 laughs and crows like an angel. dress was elaborately ornamented in fringe of ! lilies of the vallev and autumnal leaves. There never was such a baby, eh? there never was! have a fashionable milliner make the trousseau, as well as to complete her purchases. Mr. Deslonde was a man of wealth, and be longed to the haut ton of New Orleans, and his bride must enter the charmed circles in befit ting style. So it was all planned and decided upon, and Lula prepared for her trip, kissed her mother, passed over her package of money, over seven hundred dollars, to Mr. Deslonde, and together they boarded the train for Atlanta. During the few hour's ride, Mr. Deslonde en tertained poor, fascinated little Lula with rose ate and golden pictures of the new world into which he was soon to introduce her. The next chapter has been already told, and the third be gins at this point. “Well Miss Lula,” said I, “it grieves me to say that both yourself and your excellent mother have been grossly deceived. Mr. Paul Des londe is a villain whose real name is Gus Daly, and whose society is that of gamblers, high waymen, horse-thieves and convicts. I know him of old, and recognized him a half hour ago when he brought you into this room. Then, I saw him purchase a ticket to New Orleans and take the train going that way.” Lula stared at me as though I had suddenly developed an insane streak, and showed plainly that she didn’t believe me. “It’s only too true, Miss Lula, I am sorry to say. Has he got your money yet ?” “Yes, sir; I gave it to him, and he was to as sist me in my shopping.” “Then, believe me, he has undertaken the entire contract, and if we are not in a hurry, you will never see the money or him again !” I said. “Oh ! what shall I do?” and she began weep ing again. “ Don’t give way to your troubles so, but come along with me to the hotel, and I will show you how to get even with Mr. Gus Daly.” She went to the hotel and made herself com fortable, while I went off to the telegraph office, Oh, no, j calling on my way to see the chief of police. It ! did not take many minutes to send a telegram [For Tlie Sunny South.] WAITING FOR AN OFFER. BY BOSA V. RALSTON. The idea generally prevalent among the oppo site sex, that the entire unmarried portion of womankind are ever waiting for some one to come along and make them propositions of mar riage, to which they are always read}' to accede, deserves some consideration. Even supposing such to be the case, the merit of patient endur ance without a parallel .in the annals of history must be accorded them. To sit down com posedly and wait for the coming tide, not know ing what their fate will be, whether the wheel of fortune will turn for them good or ill luck, would utterly eclipse anything recorded of Job or Micawber. Of course women have to wait for an offer. Their own natural modesty dictates, and custom enforces it. They have not the privilege (though I think they should have the right) of proposing. But the idea that they are always waiting and ready to take the “first chance,” is a preposter ous supposition, to say the least of it. And this has erroneously led to the conclusion that if they are not married by the time they have reached a certain age which mankind have unan imously agreed upon as the boundary of young ladyhood, it is because they have never had an offer. Now, if women have to wait for some one to propose, men have to wait for some one to accede to their proposals. When I see a man who has reached the ripe age of bachelorhood, I know it was because his ideal wouldn’t exactly conform to his wishes; for I don’t believe there ever was a man who arrived at his fortieth year without experiencing that mysterious sensation of the heart called love. But however much man may be disposed to sneer at woman’s having to wait for an offer, it is certain there was one who did not have to wait, namely, mother Eve. In that case the order was reversed, for it is evident that Adam had to wait for her. Marriage may or may not be the acme of hu man happiness, but the joys it promises are very uncertain. How often does a woman find, after long years of waiting for the realization of the pleasure connected with married life which she hears so much of, that, instead of the joys she anticipated, she has a brute for a husband, a wretched hovel for a home too mean for human existence, and life-long sorrows and disappoint ments. In that case love becomes a secondary state. All her womanly instincts and principles revolt against such an existence. And the fre quent broils and matrimonial disturbances con sequent upon ill-formed unions are attributed to the wife as the cause. The friends of the hus band crowd around with their consolatory re marks. They are “sorry for Bob. He is a nice fellow, and it's a pity for a young man of his qualifications to be tied down to that creature. He would make his mark in the world if it were not for her.” The friends of the wife, who were perhaps more eager for the match than she was herself,” expected it would be so. If she had not been in such a hurry to get married, if she had waited longer, she might have had a better chance. And if a girl marries young, it is inva riably assumed that it was her first offer. Now, while I admit that it is natural for girls to desire to better their condition in life by mar rying, I insist that it is ungenerous to accuse women of no higher ambition than waiting for some one to transfer them from the “carpet ” to the intricate realms of matrimony.