she sat writing in the next room, the wind blew
wide the door communicating between them,
and as she rose to close it, she met Berrien s eye
with a kindly sparkle in its usually serious
Are yon 8 till on cruelty bent? —barbing
more arrows to transfix the Falcon ? he asked,
glancing at the pen in her hand.
8 He smiled when he saw her startled look and
the quick color that came into her face at this
first intimation that he knew her to be his adver
sary of the Crescent. ... .
“ N'importe," he added quickly. It ™11 not
matter how sharply you hit the editor, so you
will remember that you have tacitly promised
to be friends with the man.
He held ont his hand as he spoke, and »he
frankly put her own in its broad palm while a
smile kindled his grave, plain face into some
thing akin to beauty. , . . ..
On the bright, warm afternoon on which it
was thought safe to move poor Cecilia, while the
carriage waited for her below, and Berrien waited
to bear her down in his arms, she called Esther
to her and hung around her neck a little locket
of dead gold, which she opened and held up
before her eyes.
“Yes it was my face once, she said in answer
to the questioning look that Esther raised from
the bright, delicate, blooming beauty that smiled
at her from the gold setting. Then, she touched
a spring on the other side. “ It is a double case,
you see? You know that face, do you not, though
it is care-worn and graver now; then it had not
that tired, cynical look I sometimes see upon it
now. Norman wanted me to take his picture
out before I gave the locket to you; he said you
would not care to have it, but if you care for
me, I know vou will for the one who has been
better to me than all the world beside. W ear
the locket for my sake, and let it remind you to :
come to me when you can. I shall never trouble
vou with another visitation. My days are told, .
* .1 1 Aall mir
I may see
[For The Sunny South.]
BY J. W. LEE.
There is enough poetry in John Howard i
Payne’s “Home, .Sweet Home” to immortalize
his song, but there is not enough truth in it, j
when we consider it from a modern point of
view, to keep it alive this Centennial year.
“ An exile from home, splendor dazzles in vain.”
It is a mistake. It may have been true in Payne’s |
day, but now, splendor at home dazzles *n vain. .
That our people see more beauty in things
abroad than in objects at home, we know to be :
the truth. Why it is so, we are at a loss to con- |
ceive; but ot both the natural scenery and the ,
literary productions of our own State and South
there is a want of appreciation on the part ol ;
our own people. The mountains in North .
Georgia are as beautiful as the mountains ot
Switzerland, or of Vermont. Here are the jag
ged edges, the rugged, lonely tops. These moun- j
Uins are cut into the most lantastic shapes.
They are square, triangular and oval. They have j
chasms, loneliness, grandeur, and all the char- ;
acteristics of first-class mountains; but simpiy .
because, when the world was young, they were ;
thrown up in sight of our homes, we bestow all j
our admiration on Jungfrau and Mont Blanc.
Our streams are as limpid as any in the world, .
and rush on to the sea with as much velocity; :
but as they run by our homes, and from down
our mountains, they go on loreyer unnoticei j
by admirers of the Rhine and the Tiber, and .
even the Yellowstone and the Hudson.
A rose that blushes in the sunlight ot Georgia
is as sweet as any rose in the world; but one
nursed on Italian plains, watered by Italian ;
dews, and kissed by Italian sunbeams would be
much more admired. The moon sends light as
silvery on our own plains as she does on castles
bv the sea; but it is not half so much admired, *
* • ... v i ii, n Auti m <1 fiAn n i rmr
the leaves fall, my physician has said, nor half so heavenly in the estimation of our j
*: 'Xa.I. depreciation of things about home,
while Hie woman that, unconsciously to her, she a nd this unbounded admiration ot things abroad. ,
bad ruined lav ill in the little clean > P oorl y- It is time we were learning to appreciate and ,
furnished bed-room of her friend. Once she had develop our home institutions, our own re-
mereiv stopped to take Esther to ride, and had sources in art and science and , llte ™* u *®’ 1 . * 1
_nt her a message from the carriage; the last man write a song, the more foreign the name h
time she had brought her shimmering silks, her j gives it, the more popular the song. Coming j
flowers her dainty perfumes and little rippling j Through the Rye used to be popular, but t
lauchte'r to the very door of the sick room. name and the words were so home-like, that it is ,
Luckily before the stricken creature upon the 1 rendered now, as some one has said, without a ,
bed had caught sight of the lovely face under i s t a lk of rye left, or anybody coming through it.
the nodding white plume, Esther had drawn its jt w ould seem that experience had taught us 1 y
owner into the next room, quietly cautioning 1 this time to cease looking abroad tor everything,
her to speak low so as not to disturb a poor woman j We have gone abroad to get ideas on the origin
wlmhad fallen suddenly ill in her room, where | of m an; and they tell us that we are of the same
she had come to see her on some matter concern- ; st0 ck as the monkey—in the same line of de- j
ine herself. No dream of the truth entered ; SC ent, perhaps cousin ot the thirty-fifth degree.
Madeleine’s mind. She felt no curiosity to see We have gone abroad to get more light on men-
the woman, for she shrank from all disagreeable j tal philosophy: and they tell us that all our
siuhts though she remembered to send a basket ! hopes, all our fears, and all our aspirations are
of 8 oranges Ind a delicate ice to Esther’s “pa- ; produced by the co-working of atoms, of which ;
Lent ” L she called her, next day. The same j are composed. We have gone abroad for the .
afternoon that Cecilia was taken home, Esther ncw development of chemistry and geology, (
went to Mrs. Harte’s. . and they give us treatises on these subjects
Madeleine was in her pretty dressing-room termixed with scorn for that religion which was
vorite chair, skipping through ; the glory ot onr fathers, and our only hope. |
the cream-laid pages of a new' book and idly I shall we continue to go abroad for our educa- j
pullin'* the silken" ears of the tiny Maltese dog tion, for our literature, and tor things to ap-
Sd up on her lap. I plaud ? If we would support our own colleges ,
“Will vou go to the opera this evening?” Es- , an d newspapers and magazines, we would not j
ther presently asked.
“I think I shall,” she answered carelessly
“It is Saturday night, and the play is ‘La Fa
vorite.’ The elite will all be there, especially the
arande dames of the Creole aristocracy. The au
dience will be worth going for if the music is
not. Then, there are some people to be there,
that I wish particularly to see.
“ Who are they ?” .
“Oh! some of Werter’s acquaintances from
the country,” she answered looLy- - 1
. ( - .it go with you, if you can take
me, ’ Esther said, after a moment’s silence.
Take you ! Certainly, with the utmost de-
only be encouraging home institutions, and de-
veloping our own resources, but we would be
building insuperable bulwarks against much ot
the corruption and painted vice which come to
us in journals and books from abroad.
(jems Re-Set for Tlie Sunny South.” i
BY o MKS u |U Woinan,' ^ie second daugh
ter of Sir Anthony Cook, w'as one of four sis- :
ters, all remarkable for their intellectual attain- *
ments. She was married to Sir Nicholas Bacon,
who was Lord Keeper of the Great Seal for j
light. But I am surprised. You have so per- ; twenty years, during the reign of Queen Eliza-
sistently refused to go with me to any place of
Sir Anthony superintended the education of i
“I feel that I need a little recreation just ‘ daughters himself, and instilled into their,
now,” Esther answered, coloring at the want of min ds at night what he had taught the young ;
candor in her reply. prince Edward VI during the day. His first I
“And will you let me dress you for once ?i Clire was to give them the true sense of religion,
U ill you let me put that face and form of yours an d his next, to inure them to submission,
in a setting that will befit its superb, la reine
style ? That amethyst-colored velvet I
never worn, or the black lace with
modesty, and obedience. Their book and pen
have | ". ure their recreation; music, the court, and the
! city, their accomplishments; the needle in the
“No; I will go just as I am. You may wrap sitting-room, and housewifery in the hall and
your crimson cashmere around my black silk if kitchen their business. They all married hap-
you are ashamed of its plainness, and give me | Pity; a nd in their choice were guided more by
a red camellia or a rose from your garden, but ! the influence of their father than by liis will, j
_ ju .. • and ^ ere j ed j at jj er bis counsel than directed •
by his authority. Their classical acquirements
“But you cannot help looking picturesque; ! ma de them conspicuous, even in that age of
that is some consolation, and your color is finer j learned women. Anne, the mother of Francis,
to-day than I ever saw it.” 1 was distinguished both as a linguist and a the-
[For The Srnffiy South.]
BY FLORENC*^ HABTLAND.
The (trains of the Danube waltzes float
On the laugimi, perfumed sir,
And the lamps shine dqjvn on^uany a form,
, The manly and the Ihir;
And bright eyes flash and red Ups amile.
And Joy has banished Care.
A brilliant revel! The diamond’s Are
Quivers with fitful gleam,
And white-robed maidens fast flit by.
Like visions of a dream;
For Youth and Love and Hope to-night
Mingle in one deep stream.
And on, thro' the maze of the old, sweet waltz,
The figures come aild go,
While the slippered feet beat softest time
To the music rich end low;
And many a face that the lampa shine on
Looks pure as the drifted'snow.
Apart from the ball-room’s heated breath,
From its laugHl^atfl its .glare,
Where the moonlight qu*crs in slanting rays,
Like a spirit's trembling prayer—
There are dewy -g^estai d orange blooms,
And plants that an< ^ rare '
Lonely and sweet, the fountain s plash
Tinkles like fairy chimes;
The roses bend to the water's li^, .
And sway to the gurgling'rhymes;
And the star-eyed jessamine^dream in sleep
Of the passionate Eastern flimes.
Steps on the gleaming marble floor!
The timid violets shrink m
As the satin garments come trailing by.
To pause at the fountain’s brink.
Where the mellow light of the-moonbeams fall
In many a silver link.
’Tis the queen of the revel, Isabel!
You marked her floating by .
In the maze of the low, delirious waltz.
The centre of every eye—
Her glorious beauty proud and cold
As a Btar in a lonely sky. ,
Her partner—the man iu thc^iavy dress
Bends o’er the-hitiy now.
And his deep voice trembles bb brokenly
He utters the old love-vow;
But the girl like a frozen statue stands,*
With the moonlight on her brow.
A moment's pause, then her answer comes,
Low, musical and clear; *
A pink rose hangs down its blushing face.
The fountain trembles to-hear;
And deep iu a lily's snow-white cup
Glitters a diamond tear:—
« jf you think it can soothe one pan* you feel,
Or rob pain of its smart,
To know that van only have had the power
To touch this proud, col# heart, „
Take the comfort now—but all .the mine «
Our lives lie far apart. # ,
- My own lot is chosen; large wealth for Am
Must pour its royal dower;
I must reign as society’s envied queen, * '
And love has not tlies>ower . •
To sway me from my dazzling.path
For one delirious hon^r!
Would be a mocked-at thing!
I learned this lesson some months ago.
When first I wore this ring.”
She lifts her dainty, jeweled hand,
And shows a diamond's flash.
“ Superb, is it not?—Ah! there's the band,—
nark! what a glorious crash!
Is this waltz yours?’...But au instant more.
And the fountain's gentle plash
Alone breaks the calm of the winter night;
The moonlight glittere cold;
The flowers are dreaming the story o'er
By the murmuring fountain told;
But a sudden wail lalls from the stars—
“ Lost! and the price is— Gold!”
liich music floats thro’ the lofty hall,
With many a dreamy swell.
And laughing hours' go flying by,
While beauty woTves her spell;
But au angel weep-;. 1 DV names in heaven
The name of Wjtex.1
1 Even Amelia, so sweetly affectionate and with
: so many good qualities, is really too soft. Her
: great love for George Osborne, though lavished
! npon an unworthy object, ought to have raised i
| her character to sublimity; but somehow it !
[For The Sunny South.]
by m. a. e. Morgan.
NO XI—ROMAN PAINTING.
wYio •dmU.Wini.mD.bbto forU rrta nt I D»™>|“
!" fifisNsariJS aw i •»£
to rest content iu its fruition, even stter such | ta 1 "bangM whicU occurred. FitUlic bmld-
' * were filled with works of art and the de-
New rulers found it easier to
even on the last page, me mini wuu n ”r, ctoinH High art, though suborned, sui
that lie loves little Janey better than he loves j Untunes from this time; ami
We must not forget the corpulent Joseph bed-
; ley, gormandizer; vain, boastful, cowardly, one
could almost laugh at his picture with enjoy-
: ment, were it not for our last view of him, so
I ’feV.^nrtrnjal.f cb.rsctcr,Thacker., i SiSnrof^m'whoTivVd nt the court of
shews. —.-ss; -> ^
a few eminent Greek painters were found, down
to the latest times of Grecian history. Among
the Romans, the higher branches ot art were
little cultivated at any time. .
Among the styles of this period cancahures,
and what the French term Genre, are to be noted._
1 stroke by mingling some
thereby linking each to the human. Even
I “ Becky ” is good natured. _
i We turn now to the contemplation of “ Dom-
i bey and Son,” by Dickens. At a casual glance,
| thi s work would seem to bear little resemblance
to the one just discussed; but with a closer scru-
! tiny, we find much similarity in the two books,
and we are ready to pronounce them alike,
I though different. Alike in this respect: that for
all the prominent characters in “ \amty hair,
one of a corresponding type may be found in
“Dombey and Son.” But how different the ef
fect produced by the two works ! Dickens is
read with real satisfaction. It produces not
only more pleasureable, but also more restful
emotions. One feels after reading it not that m-
I clination of disgust with which much of “\ un
ity Fair ’’ is perused, but an inspirited emotion
which leads him to be more content with life—
yreicus, were the most
famousof the ^Genre painters of this time. Bar
ber shops, cobblers’ stalls, shell fish, and eat
ables of all kinds were among their subjects. A
room full of dressmakers and a boy blowing a
fire, with the light reflected upon the objects
around, are mentioned by writers.
Of the few painters who still maintained tlie
dignity of dying art, we may mention Mydon,
of Soli; Nealces, Leontiscus and rimauthes,
of Sieyon; Arcesilaus, Erigonus and 1 asms;
and Metrodorus of Athens, equally eminent as
painter and philosopher. The school of Sieyon
is particularly mentioned by Plutarch. Rome
in these days, was distinguished more for its
collections than for its artists. Greek artists as
sembled at Rome, and found their works appre-
1 dated to a certain degree. I rom the destruc
tion of Corinth, about one hundred and forty-
six years before Christ, Rome almost drained
which leads him to be more content u J ancient world of its works of art.
which strengthens him in belief that strug- ^ bronght by Marcellus from Syra-
ele against evil, effort for good is not needless, j
& • J nownr nf hnnpst intecr- i
I We are convinced of the power of honest integ- j were brought to Rome, and
rity and energetic endeavor in the character of th promoted that taste for pictures and statues
the first productions, according to
an absorbing passion with many distinguished
a * ,, . Romans Marcellus was accused ot corrupting
not see, though ne may be unable to give a re. - b ' lic mora i s by introducing works of art,
i son for it, the higher, the so much more exalted , 1 tim iipniilfi wiLstcd ihucq ot
sweet Florence shows forth. In comparing |
! Florence Dombey with Amelia Sedley, who does
since from that time the people wasted inuen
eir time in disputing about arts and artists.
. About the end of the republic, Rome was full
two portraits have much in common,—we find . i ters though they were mostly portrait-
the s*ame dependence of character» eacbb noth-; Ludms m
position the one occupies in the great panorama disputing about arts and artists,
of womanhood than the other. tHowbeit, the j tneir nme m ^ ^ mhUc Koll ]
ing of the so-called strong-minded woman in : parmers w wa celebrated decorator
»«* ntm.; “VX.nd !Smdoi; U. P»inted lnnd«c.pns.
only makes her more impotent.
In characters of worldly meu, ....
old Sir Pitt Crawley, old Osborne, and Lord
. f i Hum and Eteon of ’whom Lucian has given
In characters of worldly men, wo turn from ac ’ c ‘ ount Two pictures by Timomacbus were
iold Sir Pitt Crawley, oi« wu«™w ^”:.r | nurchased by Julius C;esar at an enormous price;
e\ Steyne, to Dombey, and Carker, the senior part- P werQ ^ A j ax an d Medea meditating the
ner. The character of Mr. Dombey is stern, destruction of ^er children. Julius Cmsar. An-
” unsympathetic, unloveable and unlovi g, j A „ r ip pa were among the earliest
his proud obstinacy we can yet pity him; g®^us and Agnpp^
not disgusted with little meannesses ami b J ‘ J tl ree periods in the history of
> sa es. Carker-“ wise as a serpent, and K>, ie th .
i cold, unsympathetic, unloveable and unlovin
but in his proud obstinacy we can yet pity him;
we are not disgusted with little meanness-
i weaknesses. Carker—“wise as a serpent,
! subtle, treacherous,
vindictive and heartless:
The first, that of Greco-
Iloman art, was
the time of Augustus,
harmless asT^^ia reaiu^ ! P^ing jn^om^ -- of Greece t0
when the artists
and we contemplate his character with utter ; ^J^secoml, from August,
abhorrence. But our outraged feelings do n during which time the great n
reflect upon ourselves; we look upon his base-
ness as individual, and not necessarily involv
ing the human family generally
Diocletian, during - . .
itv of Roman works were produced. lae t ‘“ ' t
prebends the state of art during the Exarch-
r consequence of the lounda-
ag tne Human iamuy , , atf . , v i 1Pn Home, in consequence oi me iou^.u-
. For worldly-minded women Becky Sharp and , Qf Constan tinople, and its consequent
Id Mrs. Skewton may well be compared bu * h suffered the same spoliation which she
there are many similar traits-loie of | ^^ fl ! cted previously upon Greece. Thm wJ
; we have ever heard, read, or imagined ! | tion among the Romans. Warriors,
In regarding the two spinsters of the books | phers, wise and brave men were all painted and
respectively, Sliss Crawley and Miss Tox, we are [ placed in positions to commemorate them.
I still partial to Dickens; for, while we actually i
I laugh at Miss Tox, we yet feel sympathy for her.
! But for Miss Crawley, one finds it hard to get
up an emotion of sorrow, unless it be that sor
row which, in a moral view, we are conscious
we ought to feel.
We also find a counterpart for Joseph Sedley,
Cassiodorus, in speaking of the wealth of
Rome in works of art, says it was “ one vast won
der.” The paintings of Pompeii and Hercula
neum have been engraved often, and have rather
tended to lower the reputation of the ancient
painters; but if closely examined, many great
beauties will be discovered in them. They art
the vain braggart and gormandizer, in the Joe undoubtedly, many of them, the work of supe
; Bagstock of Dickens; but while we pronounce ‘ ” * * ‘
' them both foolish, boastful and gluttinous, we
She did not know that it came from the fever
that had burned in the girl’s heart all that day,
Lady Bacon had two sons: Nicholas, the elder,
[For Tli'i-pimny South.]
“Vanity Fair” and "Dombey and Son;”!
ever since she had read in the yesterday’s paper ! wl10 became a very eminent man ; and Francis,
among the distinguished arrivals at* the St. | the future philosopher. " "
Charles, the names of
daughter." As she had
she had glanced from
m&le face she passed,
see the face of her sister. — „ r . ■ ,
to take them to the opera. Unseen behind the ! name illustrious. Lord Bacon’s deep affection ' • 1 } e leels llke re P eatln g. ovt * and over again, to forge; we understand the fierce stru o „ - , ?
lace curtains of Madeleine’s box, she might look I f °r her, and his sense of her valued influence | this last paragraph of Thackeray’s “Vanity Fair.” underwent before her haughty soul would bow j in destroying all traces of art than all that had
out and feast her eyes upon the face of her dar- npon his life, was ‘ ■ - - Th* mithm- Bod »» n nn,«i; u i, 0 j i,;„ fV,„ „<■ i,„. *' rr " -• ’ • “ ’
rior artists of an inferior age.
The mosaic of the Casa del Fan no, discovered
; find the Major, “Joey B.,” more ridiculously : in 1831, supposed to represent the battle of
. j SSUSj or some other of Alexander’s battles, is
the most valuable discovery yet made respect
ing the composition of the ancient painters; it
shows a thorough understanding of perspective
and foreshortening, and is probably a copy of
some more ancient painting.
The baths of Titus were painted during the
times of the empire, and contain many beauti
ful arabesques. Raphael obtained from them
his ideas l'or the arabesques of the Vatican. The
tdneed as “Spit-fire”; neither for poor little : paintings of the tomb of the Nasoni, and the
, the old-fashioned child, to whom the “ wild i family of Ovid, were likewise of this period.
Of all the ancient works, one of the most
beautiful series is the Life ot Adonis, discovered
in ltiGM, in some ruins near the Colosseum, and
close to the baths of Titus.
hristianity, the di
inroad of barbar-
of art. The
le she i fanatic fury of the Iconoclasts was more effectual
i amusing, and can enjoy the silliness of his ludi
crous character without reproach,
j We cannot compare Walter Gay, with either
. George Osborne or William Dobbin, even though
| we esteem honest, awkward William.
; For Solomon Gills, “ Walter’s Uncle Sol,” and
i Captain Cuttle, simplicity personified, “Vanity
1 Fair” possesses no parallel characters; nor for
. innocent Mr. Toots, true-hearted, simple soul,
and his black-eyed Susan, to whom we are first
waves ” were constantly whispering mysteries,
which his worn little spirit never fathomed, in
But the most brilliant character of “ Dombey
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
[For The Sunny South.]
OUR CENTENNIAL SPRING.
touchingly and beautifully l autllor ^ as accomplished his aim but too i to the degradation of selling her marriage vow j preceded t
is last requests “Bury me ' * n f e P>’ ( senting all things as vanity. .Just j for money; we seem, then, with her, to realize j down, citi
shown by one of his last requests—“Bury me
beside my mother, at St. Michael’s, near St.
A USD OP CONTRARIES.
The north breeze is the hot wind, and the
south the cool, the westerly the most unhealthy,
il Tl (I tlm no O t fVin ....1 * Ti • *
this feeling pervades you when you finish the
[ book and reflect on what has been read. Noth
in" is exempt.
the utter antagonism of her character to her
! husband’s; we tremble at her dauntless opposi-
J tion and expressions of loathing; we pity her
a *»» tiwu dim UApicnMUIin Ol lUubillllgj WtJ pity ucl
We can bear to be told that all earthly things | when her love for Florence becomes a fresh
land^hei: !s 8 aT"t ^ i' f thThe^lVnTstThen"^TtTs^Tnler at homeTnd
: a ,. r ® 1 , 1 b reat an ‘I joyous resurrection i tue barometer is considered to rise before bad
of ea . rth ufter tb . e Jonggioom weather, and to fall before good. The swans are
m ? r Nature s Easter morn has dawned, j black, and the eagles are white; the mole lavs * amus,n g is given: i
the spnngtnle is here-the springtide of our , eggs, and has a duck's bill; the kangaroo has meets with touchy,
are vanity, but not that life itself is. Reading
this work may possibly’ make us wiser. In it
the author manifests much ingenuity, much
them. The ancient statues were melted
cities and churches were robbed of their
treasures, and notwithstanding popes and rulers
made efforts to preserve these works, they were
sacrificed. Immense collections were destroyed
by lire, some were lost by neglect and the indif
ference of those who ought to have saved them.
Theophilus, patriurcli of Alexandria, destroyed
means of torture; and we comprehend, then,
how she can bear all this no longer; how her
„ .. very soul rises up in revolt! We can hear the j in 389, the Serapaeum, one of the most renowned
knowledge of human hature; good hints are ! promptings of the legion of devils to which she temples of the ancient world, and Arcadins and
thrown out in his satirical manner; true senti- i is listening; the strength of her nature asserts Honorius issued general orders to destroy all
ments are sometimes exhibited; much that is ■ itself, the rebellion bursts, and we behold that ' ’ *
and now and then the reader saddest of all sights—a fierce, beautiful woman,
olVjt’al tenderness and pa-
Still it failT^V'hnswer our requirements
In every character it fails. There is
tt , , i hind legs, like a bird, and vet hons on its tail i a Look,
ow many changes have swept over the New j There is a bird which has a brooiu in its moutli something wanted in even the best for its com-
DeeW e t,nn e ft f fnf 0t ."P I instead of a tongue; a fish hL half belong Potion. Rebecca afterwards Mrs. Raw-
qur Declaration of Independence, and we first to the genus raia, and the other that of soualus’ tlon Crawley, is so heartlessly selfish and treach-
stood one among the nations of the world, a re- ; Cod fish is found in the rivers, and perch in the I er0D8 > when seen unmasked, notwithstanding
puhfic with tlie strengthening power of a grand | sea; the valleys are cold, and the mountain ber pl ea8a nt and fascinating manner, that one
rp, , . , . to P s warm; the nettle is a loftv tree, and the
80 al } t } poplar a dwarfish shrub. The pears are of wood,
unbroken ly over the little towns of the Old
World, and whose constant repetition leaves
only' the touch of fascinating quaintness on the
old houses that nearly embrace each other as
they run up to meet the sky. The hundred
years, whose caress has only doubled the value
of their lace and china, has brought everything
with the stalks at the broad end; the cherry
grows with the stone outside; the fields are
fenced with mahogany: the humblest house is
fitted up with cedar; and the myrtle plants are
burned for fuel. The trees are without fruit, the
flowers without fragrance, and the birds are
without song. Finally, in this land of anoma-
w, i . , . ; *i® 8 , the greatest rogues become converted into
Jx !L?? r „ t C ?: nn . try ™ a ? alru0st incredl : ! mo «t nseful citizens. Such is Terra Australia.
bly short space of time. We Americans cannot
be easily surpassed, especially in regard to time.
When we were prosperous, we were one of the
richest, and now that we are poor, we cannot be i
vanquished; we are the poorest. We warred, i
and we are now to have good fellowship in the :
shape of a beautiful and gorgeous century plant, I
that all the world is invited to come and look at j
Our beautiful spring is softly and gradually !
touching into the delicate freshness of life the
stiff, dead things of winter, and under the ca
ressing beam of the warm sunshine the face of
earth begins to smile responsive. We trust it
]>ut typifies the peace and the new order of
things which hopeful prophets sav is dawning
upon us. &
What is love ? A ceaseless stream,
A changeless star, an endless dream,
A smiling flower that will not die,
A beauty, and a mystery.
Its storms as light as April showers,
Its joys as bright as April flowers.
Its hopes as sweet as summer air,
And dark as winter its despair.
defying both heaven and hell! Yet, we think
her picture may be looked upon with profit. We
grieve over her wretchedness, admire and even
love her for her lofty independence and innate
nobility; still, her misguided life does not fas
cinate us. From it we learn more plainly than
ever that human nature cannot stand in its own
. strength, and we think what she might have been—
is repulsed with a feeling akin to terror—terror | what a brave and powerful laborer in Christ’s
at the portrayal of a woman so lost to every gen
erous and kindly feeling; a mother, too, with
out one motherly emotion even for the child of
Rawdon’s love for her is his almost only re
deeming quality, and we would have been glad
had he never discovered that mere self-interest,
instead of affection, had prompted her to marry
him; but the vail is torn from his eyes too, and
his former adoring love is changed to loathing.
Old Sir Pi:.t Crawley’s grossness and sensual
ity is shocking.
! Sir Pitt, Jr., rigorous, still so susceptible of
| flattery—bigoted, yet led to sacrifice his princi-
j pies to his ambition, can never please.
Lady Jane is motherly and pious, but cannot
! be viewed with satisfaction as the wife of Sir
i Pitt. V
Miss Crawley, a worn-out worldling, unfit to
vineyard — had her youthful training been
founded on His gospel instead of the pernicious
code of the world.
Faithfulness to Employers.
pagan temples and statues. The zeal of the
i Iconoclasts was directed against Christian images
I as well as pagan. The images of Christ, of the
| Virgin and of saints all fell under their censure
and were destroyed. Ju tue Dinth and tenth
| century images were tolerated in the Greek
I church. Constantinople was, throughout the
j middle ages, the capital of the arts and the source
i of their revival in the west of Europe. When,
I through the influence of the Crusaders, inter-
I course was opened with the Venetians, the west
i received a great impulse toward the revival of
, arts. Greek artists came to Italy to embellish
Italian temples, and from this school in Venice
I and Pisa the great modern schools of Italy de-
I rived beginning and vitality.
There is no greater mistake a young man can
commit than that of being indifferent to the in
terest of his employer. It must be admitted
that there are circumstances under which it
would seem to be almost impossible to feel an
! interest in an employer’s business; but for all
j that, it is worth a trial. Be faithful in small
business, be attentive to your duties, shirk no
employment that is not dishonorable, feel that
In religions matters, wo are obliged to admit
tradition. We know the authentic scriptures by
tradition—the scripture dictated by inspiration
of God. We know the false from the trne only
by tradition. We cannot know the authority
for the Christian Sabbath without tradition.
We cannot know which injunction of the New
Testament is most obligatory without tradition.
- , ..... ...... i If we were to judge by the text atone which coml
lair *y entlt l ed to every minute j ma nd was most binding on the church w«
of the time which you have agreed to give him
for a stipulated remuneration. The wages may
be small, but if you have contracted to work for | mands
should say that of “ washing each other’s feet ”
was most strenuously insisted upon. The cotu-
When is love a bottle ?
When it comes to an
dissolved in it; a cloth wrung ont in hot water i volting picture is presented of a minister of j >t will instill the great principle ol being i
and laid upon the stomach—should be removed ! Christ, his wife and children ! I true to your vow.—Rechange. | J
as rapidly as it becomes cool.
Water in which potatoes have been boiled is
recommended to relieve rheumatism. Rub the
Lord Steyne, the “Wicked Nobleman,” Thack
eray himself consigns to “ Old Nick.”
There is no pleasure in viewing the queru-
lonsness of old Mr. and Mrs. Sedley, nor the
stern braggart, money-loving old Osborne.
ut for tradition.
M. A. E. M.
I To Cure Neuralgia.—Grate horse-radish and
A London doctor has discovered that tooth- j mix it with vinegar, the same as for table rmr-
fl P Plin Ko onvo/l Rn \ IF „ JZ 1, .— I 3 - t — A. Al A 1 i - A
ache can be enred by dissolving half a drachm
of bicarbonate of soda in an ounce of water and
holding the solution in the mouth.
poses, and apply to the temple when the face or
head is affected, or to the wrist when the
is in the aim or shoulder.