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TRIBUTES TO MILLARD SEALS.
Outpouring of Deepest Sympathy.
Hind Letters from Friends and Strangers
in Every Portion of the Country, from
Vermont and Iowa to Texas and
FIorida--A Thousand Thanks
from Our Crushed and
Bleeding Hearts.
Thanks to the Great Arbiter of all human affairs !
Humanity is not yet extinct in the human heart.
The great mass can yet be touched by another's
woes, and “ weep with those who weep.” Never
perhaps in any age have more touchingly beautiful,
and sweetly consoling letters been penned than
have poured in upon us from countless sources in
our crushing bereavement, from Vermont, Iowa,
Tennessee, Virginia, the Carolinas, Texas, Ala
bama and from every direction, since our last
issue they have come with sweet and beautiful
words of sympathy and consolation, and we thus
publicly acknowledge them because it is utterly
impossible for us to do so by private letter. And
we beg each and every one to accept our most
grateful and heartfelt thanks.
We would like exceedingly to publish some of
the letters but cannot make the selections.
A TRIBUTE TO THE MEMORY OF
MILLARD SEALS.
BV THE SECOND BAPTIST SABBATH
SCHOOL, ATLANTA, GA.
On the bright morning of June 2d, one week
and one day ago, just as the sun was sending his
rays on the dewy morning, awaking the world to
light and life, the subject of this tribute was sud
denly, unexpectedly called to yield his sweet,
young life, under circumstances too well known
and too heart-rending to need or bear rehearsal.
Yet sudden and untimely as seemed to be his death,
the cheering thought arises that though his death
was tragic, his life, his rising manhood, his bright,
beautiful, genial character, shedding its benignant
rays over the moral and social world, was not
altogether unlike the bright luminary that wit
nessed his end.
Of his character, we will let others speak here
after, adding our testimony. But before doing so,
let us briefly review the events of the past week.
And oh, how they crowd on us ! How forcibly do
they remind us how fleeting, how uncertain, how
transitory are all the things of earth ! How soon
we may pass away ! How, in one week—yea, in
one day—we may die, be buried, words of sym
pathy and sorrow pronounced over us, and then
be forgotten, except in the memory of our virtues
and good deeds ! During the past week how rapid,
liow startling, how impressive the events which
have transpired ! One week ago last Thursday j
morning, Millard Seals left his fond parents in all
the buoyancy of his young life, to seek a day’s
needed«recreation by the seashore; on Friday
morning, without a moment’s warning, he was
hurled into eternity ! Saturday morning his life- j
less form was returned to his stricken parents, j
For a few brief hours of that day his body was i
laid in a room of his father’s house, where hun- j
irLda of sympathising frionds gather^, to look on
it and offer their tribute of flowers and tears. On
the evening of the same day, while clouds obscured
the sun, his body was borne to’the upper room of
this church, where words of sympathy, of praise j
and o: consolation were truly and fitly spoken by
our minister to weeping relatives and friends; then
away to the silent city of the dead moved the
mourning procession. And here, without incur
ring the imput ition of superstition, we may paus j to
mention an incident which may be treasured as a
beautiful omen of good. One who stood by th#
open grave says, “just as the coffin was being low
ered into the earth, a ray of dazzling brightness
burst through the dark pall of the clouds that had
covered the sky, and gleamed goldenly across the
coffin lid. To all present it seemed symbolic of the
sweet spirit’s happy immortality. It seemed to be
a token of the bright iufluence of his life, which
will still shine from his grave with purifying lus
tre.”
But to return to the events of the past most
eventful week: Well do we all remember the me
morial meeting of our Sabbath-school on last Sab
bath afternoon, the day after the burial of Mil
lard Seals, and long will we remember the touch
ing tributes to his memory by those, old and young,
to whom he was so dear, so closely bound by the
ties of church and school-fellowship. That meet
ing was an event in our school long to be remem
bered and never forgotten. The lessons of wis
dom taught by his spotless life and illustrated by
his bright example, cannot pass away like the idle
story of an hour, but must leave lasting, endless
impressions on our minds which will bear fruit in
eternity.
Equally memorable in the events of the week is
the large meeting on last Weduesday night, when
our best citizens paid their eloquent and heartfelt
tribute to the moral and intellectual worth of our
lamented brother. Never will those who were
present on that occasien forget the melting strains
of Millard's favorite song, “ Thesweei by-and-by,”
as it floated up like angel-whispers from hearts
filled with love, tender memories and fond antici
pations of meeting oa the “ other shore,” which
seemed almost in view. We will always remember
the tremulous voice of the stricken father, as,
moved by this sweet song, so often heard from the
lips of his son, he arose and spoke of this boy as
his friend, his counsellor, his preacher, his life,
his all of earthly hope, and asked that all present
would remember him in their petitions, praying
that this terrible affliction might be sanctified to
his good. Surely’ we who profess to be Christians
will not forget this request.
But meetings in honor of Millard Seals have not
been confined to our own church and congregation.
During the past week the First M. E. Church
Sunday-school, moved by a broad Christian sym
pathy, has, in a series of resolutions, united with
us in expressing its high appreciation of him as a
Christian and a Sunday-school w* rker. Similar
tributes to his memory have been paid by his
former college associates of Mercer University, and
by the Polymnian Society, of which he was a mem
ber, but those somewhat formal meetings are not
so remarkable as the wonderful and spontaneous
offerings which have been made from all parts of
the country. It is no exaggeration to say that dur
ing the week since his burial a whole volume of
tribntes to the memory of Millard Seals has been
received by his parents. This book of love and
sweet remembrance, this spontaneous tribute to
genius and piety, is made up not only of contribu
tions from relatives and personal friends, but even
from those who knew him not in person, and had
only heard afar off his name as a youth of extra
ordinary mental powers and moral worth. Fitly
does Poetry bring her offering from the gifted pen
of one who knew him well, and who sadly, sweetly
sings, as woman alone can sing, of the crushed
hearts that loved him, of his death in life’s sweet
June, and of the “ typic ray” which fell athwart
.his coffin lid, emblem of a blissfu' immortality.
7Then comes another poetic tribute from one, who
though a minister of high repute, does not consider
it beneath the dignity of the office or the man to
tune his lay to the praise of the “noble boy”
whose form is the commom heritage of all Chris
tians.
And then by hand and express from all parts of
the country, came rare sweet flowers in such pro-
I fusion that they literally covered his bier and
grave, as with a “ fragrant snow drift,” most sweet
and fit emblem of the many virtues which cluster
ed around the character of the fair youth over
whom they were strewn.
And now can we, as a Sabbath school add any
thing to the wreath of honors which has been
heaped on the new-made grave of our companion
and brother? During the short week which has
passed since his burial there have poured in in
profusion rich, rare, we might say unparallel’.ed
in the case of one so young. And yet, as those
bound to him by the tender ties of Christian broth
erhood and Sabbath school association, we would
offer our affectionate he rt-felt tribnte to his mem-
! ory. In these relations we knew him as no others
did. We knew him as the sincere, devout, hum
ble, consistent Christian. We have seen him bow
before the mercy seat in public prayer, and with a
child-like unaffected simplicity, and yet with a
natural unstudied eloquence pour forth his peti
tions to that God whom he always addressed as
“ Dear Father.” Never can we forget those melt
ing tones, those earnest prayers offered up in our
behalf.
We cun also speak of hi-', as a Sabbath school
schollar. His teacher says of him : “ Millard had
been a member of my class about 15 months, and
during those months his seat was seldom vacant.
When present he was always respectful and atten
tive to his teacher, quick to answer all questions,
and to describe and unfold the leading truths in
every lesson. Gentle and affectionate to his class
mates, he drew all our hearts to him as to a mag
net, and we loved him in our hearts.” What
higher, what more beautiful picture of a good
Sabbath school scholar could be drawn ?
Again, some had the good fortune to know him
as an intimate associate. Of all the numerous i
testimonies to the worth of Millard Seals, the fol- :
lowing from one of his bosom friends is the most j
striking and conclusive : Says this friend to whom j
lie unbosomed himself: “ As one of Millards most i
intimate friends 1 can truly say that he was one of j
the purest boys that ever lived. He was good, ]
upright, honest, and truthful. Never in his life j
was he even heard to swear or utter an oath, or to !
use slang words. When he went to the house of j
God, he always went with a prayerful heart; when j
praising God with song, he always tried to do his j
share with his dear sweet voice. During prayer
he always bowed his head humbly, and lifted up J
his voice in silent prayer. Never in his life was ‘
he known to quarrel with any one; but he always !
had a word of cheer and comfort for all he met. j
He won the love of all by his kind, gentle ways. |
He was continually thrown into bad company, but !
as soon as he found such to be the case he with
drew. He never went into a bar room or billiard j
saloon in his life; nor in any place that could bring j
reproach on the name he bore. He was not only j
a dutiful loving son to his father and mother, but j
a companion, adviser, and everything their hearts !
could wish. He was devoted to his mother, always j
speaking of her in the tenderest and most respect- !
ful terms. He often excused himself from going
WHISPERS FROM COOSA'S WAVES.
BY ST. CTR.
On this bright day in flower-budding May,
In meditative mood by the Coosa I stay,
Listening to the music its ripples are giving,
For on its bright waters a memory is living
In whispers of spirits from shadowy land,
In weird-like melody from a shadowy hand—
MingliDg with the battle shout
Of the Spaniard in ruthless ravage,
And of France, in orgies and rout,
And the war-cry of the savage.
’Twas but a phantom; 'twas fame that led.
Centuries have passed and time has aped.
’Twas on this spot the Spaniard bold
For years did valiantly make his hold,
Seeking diligently for mines of gold;
A slave to fame, his spirit was sold
In striving to find youth’s living spring
In the limpid Coosa's shade,
And fairy birds with airy wing,
With feather vest of pearl inlaid.
The sons of France, with glad’ng eyes,
Then sought this land of sunny skies
With ships; and men in armor bright,
With manly crest and towering height,
Eager for gold, for fame, for fight,
DariDg and bold, be it wrong or right,
Reared a bastion on Coosa’s deep side,
Christened with proud Toubisi's name;
The red man, wronged, was then defied
To gild for France the phantom fame.
’Tis the vale of dreams and visions red,
Where virgins wept and warriors bled;
The red man’s name is now erased—
Flying Westward, by white men chased,
Their former glory cannot be traced
In the gentle home, by the river graced.
Then lovely groups of living gold,
With dreamy eyes and beauteous face,
Fashioned by Him of immortal mould,
With music's voice and woodland grace.
Filled its banks in glittering throngs,
In joyous dance and wildwood songs.
The stream was dotted with the light canoe,
Laden with lovers wild bnt true;
The shyest game came boldly to view,
Fearing no danger —their lords they knew.
The stalwart form of the forest king
And lovely wildwood maid
No more will dance, no more will sing:
They sleep quietly in the spreading shade.
Weird and grand was the flowery wild.
Home of the savage, sublime nature’s child;
Myriads of birds, with plumage gay,
Green trees festooned with mosses gray;
Disease took wings and stole away,
Reasons fled unknown—'twas always May.
The spoiler came with savage hand,
And slew with reeking blade—
Bedewed with blood his happy land,
To sink forever in the Eternal Shade!
balsams, firs, cedars, tamaras. The soft breeze
that blows in through the window is so laden
with spicy odors that, closing one’s eyes, it
seemed like “ Home in the South.” Never fear
the name swamp; no malaria, no damps here.
When other places are all afloat, the Lake Supe
rior and Mississippi Railroad is “ over sky-high
and stone dry. Fortunes have been made here,
and “there’s millions” in these forests—Fide
the palatial residences and bank accounts of
Messrs. Taylor, McKee & Co., lumber merchants
of Minnesota. No rest, no quiet here. Day
and night the black monsters that move these
mills never rest, and thousands and thousands
of feet of lumber are sawed and sent out to
build the houses of these busy Minnesotians.
Twenty minutes for dinner at Hinchly, and
plenty of good cheer refresh us for the last and
most interesting portion of our trip. Leaving
at North Pacific Junction all bound for the
Black Hills, we cross the St. Louis river. Para
dise opens to you here. Don’t expect us to de
scribe the Dalles of St. Croix to you now. If
pen and ink can tell you, you shall know. But
not to-day, when the murmur of the water, and
the glorious scenery is still so fresh in our
minds, that it seems like sacrilege to speak of
it as belonging to earth. Five bridges cross the
St. Louis, none less than a hundred and twenty
feet high. The descant of the river is one hun
dred feet per mile; and for beauty of scenery,
but one river ever equaled it, and that river
flowed through the garden of Eden.
LETTER FROM ST. LOUIS.
Eloquent Speeches--New Theatrical Star,
Dear Sonny South:
St. Louis, Mo., June 5th.
LETTER FROM ST. PAUL.
Beautiful Scenes—Heavy Forests—-Fine Fish
ing, etc.
Last week was one of bright sunshine and
Ito places by saying that he preferred to go home ! pure pleasure; for, thanks to the kindness of
and be with mother. 1 have known him to give up , friend J. W., one of the pleasantest and most
places of amusement and go to prayer meeting, ' courteous ot route agents, we enjoyed a trip
which is something very unusual for a boy of his i over the Lake Superior and Mississippi Rail
age The last time I saw him was at churcn prais- j road. It was a panorama of beautiiul scenery
inu- God. And the night before he was killed he the time we left St. Paul till we reached
was up to a late hour singing religious and Sab-I ^lath the “Zemth city of unsaltod seas. A
bath school songs, with his friend collected around P ,e “"rSg* lk f
him. Fifteen minutes before his! death he stepped f^hme brought us to the depot, built at the
^■tho car to gather some wild flowers, and was too . t , of V: mV1Ue ’ °T T*
I 6 _ gult runt.mg up through onfe ot the prinf'jpal
streets ol\ St. Paul, but now' graded and filled
up till it ii as even as yonder parlor floor. 1 The
out of the car to gathe
asking how the prayer-meetings (in Atlanta) were
I progressing. And this friend gives this additional
testimony to his character, which is worthy of all
commendation and imitation. He tells us that
I Millard Seals never used tobacco in any form, and
I that he even refrained from drinking tea and cof-
| fee, those common stimulants which cannot be
road runs up the ravine for a hundred yards or
so, crossing Trout Brook, and then skirts along
the prairie till it reaches the first station at
White Bear Lake, a famous place of summer
resort for the good people of St. Paul and Mis
taken, especially by the young, without injury to ; s i s sippi. It is to them what Thunderbolt and
the system. | White Bluff are to our friends in Georgia. Here
And now what more need we say ? What more | y 0 u can take your choice between three very
can we say that would be more impressive than the j tine hotels; and connected with these are bath-
example of him whose memory aud virtues are eu- j ing houses and boats, both sail and row. There
shrined in our hearts? But, let this memory be | is also a nice little steamer, The Swallow, just
something more than a mere sentiment. Let it be j the thing for picnics and fishing excursions,
a living, active principle which will cause all to | What between good fare, fishing, dancing, bath-
strive to follow the bright example which has been i ing, boating, and fun of every kind, one goes
given us in the pure and spotless Christian life of j with eagerness and leaves with sadness, the
Millard Seals. j g a ' ner 01 many pounds of flesh, and perhaps—
And finally, we request that this tribute to his | a . ver ’, . .... „ ,, , ,
memory be entered on our records, and that a copy ! Alter leaving \\ bite Bear (there is a beautiful
he sent to his parents, with our warmest sympathy Indlan le S end connected with it which I will
r - - - j -tell yon some day), the next place is Forest
! Lake, not so large as White Bear, but a splendid
i place for hunting and fishing. Numbers of
! Southerners come up for that purpose during
| the summers, and live in quite Arcadian style;
not to save expenses, because hoard is very rea
sonable, considering all you get and enjoy, but
because it is certainly the perfection of summer
life out West. No bugs, no snakes, or creeping
things, what is there to break in upon your en
joyment of “ Tent life in the far West?”
If you get tired, and feel as if you would like
to prove yourself to he a civilized creature once
more, you need go but a few miles to Wyoming,
and rest your weary body under the shelter of
one of the very best hotels in Minnesota—Tum
bler’s Hotel, noted for hospitality and good fare
from “down South” to “over East” and “far
Trinity Sunday School, June 11, 1870. ! West.” Should you ever come West, Sunny
1/r. Jno. T. McGuire, Supt. Second Baptist Sunday \ South, don't fail to go there, for the benefit
KNIGHTS OF HONOR.
ITS ENDS AND AIMS.
This order originated in Louisville, Ky.,
nearly three years ago. The first Lodge num
bered seventeen men. There are now ten thou
sand members in the order. The order has been
carefully and judiciously managed, and the
members are mostly men of the highest stand
ing in Masonry, Odd Fellowship and other
organizations.
It is an incorporated institution, combining
all the best features of the older secret organiza
tions, with new elements of usefulness and
strength that cannot fail to render it at once at
tractive, popular and prominent.
It tolerates nothing sectarian, sectional or po
litical.
It gives moral and intellectual culture and
material aid to its members.
It pays two thousand dollars to the family or
legal representative of each deceased member.
This is done by the accumulation of advance
assessments upon all members of the order,
which are made whenever the amount in the
general Widow and Orphans’ Fund is reduced
below two thousand dollars. This plan is
founded upon fixed business principles, and
furnishes a species of life insurance that is at
once cheaper, more secure and easier carried
than that offered by any other plan. This fund
is held sacred, and no portion of it is expended
j in any other way than in payment of death ben
efits.
The Knights of Honor is no rival to other
older secret associations, but strives to emulate
the virtues and good qualities of them all.
Neither does it enter the field as an opponent of
life associatians. It simply takes up the argu
ments that render the value of life insurance a
stubborn fact, and reiterates them with new em
phasis in their application to our special pur
poses.
The membership is composed of men between
the ages of twenty-one and fifty-five, embracing
men of all avoeations, who are honorable and
honest, and seek the welfare of their fellows.
The funds are secured by good and sufficient
bonds. The bqnd of the Supreme Treasurer is
$50,000, that of the Supreme Reporter, $1(1,oOO.
Georgia Lodge, No. 127, was organized ija At
lanta on the 13>th of July, 1875, and now has 50
members.
There has been but one death in Georgia. Mr.
Miller, editor at Toccoa, Ga., joined the order
on the ’27th of February and died, we believe,
in April. He was a widower, and left a little
daughter, Miss Hattie Miller, who has received
$2,000 from the Supreme Treasurer.
The order commends itself to all good and
true men.
Capt. W. B. Kendrick, of Atlanta, Ga., is the
Grand Reporter for the Grand Lodge of Georgia,
and will take pleasure in giving information
concerning the order. He is a good and true
man, and takes a deep interest in any and all
movements which commend themselves to his
judgment as being calculated to benefit his
fellow-men.
and our earnest prayer that God may sanctify this
sad affliction to their spiritual and eternal good.
Jno. Stainback Wilson, j
E. Andrews, J-Committee.
William Spalding. J
The preceding testimonial of dear Millard Seals,
was read before the Second Baptist Sunday school,
and uanimously adopted Sunday morning, June
11th, 1876. ' Truly,
John T. McGuire, Sup’t.
Chas. B. Gaskill, Secretary.
A BEAUTIFUL LETTER
Prom Trinity M. E. Sabbath School to the
Second Baptist Sabbath School.
of your—stomach.
From Wyoming to Rush City past North
Branch, you pass through the finest farming
country in Minnesota. Everything shows the
thrift, energy and go-ahead ways of the Minne
sota farmers. Good houses, large barns, sub
stantial fencing, and fine stock, prove that farm-
words snoken at the recent State Convention at ers out here d ° not believe in bein 8 Penny wise
words, spoken at the recent ^tate Convention at and nd Liberal outlay, as a general
Decatur are stil ringing in our ears. In his life thin £ bri in a generoas retur n; and forty
we beheld one ot the truest types of noble young acre * well c D ultivute d“ will bring a better income,
manhood. In his death, as a company in the and j n f be end be a pleasanter heritage to leave
great Sunday School army, we have lost a brave Qur children
School:
Dear Brother—We have felt, with you. a
pang of grief at the sad and sudden death of our
gifted brother, Millard Seals. As a sister in
Christ, TrLnity Sunday School desires to offer,
through you, to the Second Baptist Sunday School
her sympathy in this great sorrow. His eloquent
and valiant comrade, and you a noble and pious
son.
We think of his death with sorrow; yet, while
we mourn, let us continue to cherish a oliild-hke
confidence in our Heavenly Father’s will. Our
Marahs as well as our Elims are appointed by
llim.
A gracious pillar-cloud is before us. Let us fol
At North Branch, you will find two things to
interest yon—tne Hay Depot of Minnesota, and
the Minnesota Marble Quarry, both owned and
errried on by Charles Guerney, a Southerner and
Louisianian.
At Rush City, you leave behind you the farm
ing lands and oak openings that have interested
us so far, and strike the heavy timber lands that
low Him through sunshine and storm. He may keep the timber cutters so busy in the winter
lead us darkly—sometimes sorrowfully but always season. A short delay gave us time to pay a
wisely. We need our trials. “ Some days” not hasty visit to the editorial sanctum of H. P
only “ are, but must be dark and dreary.”
Let us remember that there are no bitter mean
ingless drops in the cup of our grief. “The Lord
loveth whom he chasteneth.”
Though the floods of sorrow wear deep chan
nels in our hearts, let net their banks be sterile
by the flow of the bitter waters. But rather let
them be redolent with sweet flowers green
soft verdure, which else had no springing.
Rubie, the talenthd editor and proprietor of the
Chicago Post of Rush City, and the Xews of
Pine City. Unfortunately, it was his busy time,
for the interest of both papers rests upon his
editorial shoulders, and the “ devil ” was so con
stantly at his elbows that we were forced to con
tent ourselves with a promise to take—well, a
; cup of lea, at some future time.
Pine City, one of the largest towns on this
route, contains—a la little boy saying his geog-
Praying that our Heavenly Father may sanctify hy less0 ns-four thousand inhabitants and a
this affliction which now seems so grievous to the fa £ Q J rv for making barre l staves. The chief
®°i°- ^ 1S P eo P e in ^^ anta ’ an ^ l ^ at hand objects of interest are the heavy forests of maple,
which has been laid heavily upon the hearts of ironwool L 0 ak, and hickory. ' Here begins the
father and mother may apply the “ oil of joy for forests of Minnesota. For miles and miles
[For Tlie Sunny South.]
GIRLS.
BY ANXABELLE BARKER WHITE.
Girls are the most innocent, trusting creatures
that walk God’s beautiful footstool. Mark! I
do not mean or say younej ladies, but girls—sweet
faced, fresh-hearted girls — for we have them
even in this, the nineteeth century, and it is to
be confidently hoped we shall have them in the
twentieth, notwithstanding the giant strides
that are now being made by progressive parents
to erase such sweet, natural flowers from their
hot-beds. We may prate as we will of the solid
joys, the calm happiness and pleasant duties of
womanhood, but what woman is there who does
not sometimes look longingly back to that green
spot in her life, careless, happy girlhood ? Ay,
there’s the charm ! She is without cares, with
out stern duties to goad her on as if she were
Mr. Pickwick’s cab-horse.
“ He always falls down when he’s took out of
his cab,” said the driver, “but when he’s in it,
we bears him up werry tight, and takes him in
werry short, so’s he can’t werry well fall down,
and we’ve got a pair of precious large wheels on;
so ven he does move, they run after him, and he
must move on—he can’t help it.”
This is the life of many a woman. But a girl,
if she have ambition before her to beckon on
with gleaming finger, she studies to become a
woman in the broadest, fullest meaning of that
significant word. To such the road of learning
is pleasant, no goad being required to urge her
along. If she be a dreamer, she stops by the
wayside, culling the sweetest flowers there, and
waking up some day to the knowledge that her
crown—womanhood—has come to her with a
shock. She is totally unprepared for it, and it
takes years for her to get accustomed to it; per
haps she never fully realizes that she is a woman.
Ah, girls ! if you could only lift the vail you
would not be so eager to have the chaplet of
wifehood placed on your unfitted brows. Wait
a few years for your prince to come to you—
don’t seek him out, then cry Eureka ! enshrine
him in your heart, and sometime waken to the
painful fact that your prince is a spurious one;
in truth, an idol of the impure clay.
But I did not start out to give advice, for every
one knows it’s perfectly useless. Each girl has
her rose-colored dreams of the future, and I
would not for the world she should be without
them. Each girl nods confidently to herself
and says, “my life will be worth living.” So
when these glowing dream-visions turn to dead-
gray ashes, when her trust in human nature be
comes less perfect, when the knowledge comes
to her that life's rose-garden has it thorns, may
she not be tempted to exclaim and believe that
all is vanitas vanitatum ?
their mourning, we are
Y’ours in Christ,
A. G. Candler,
C. W. Crankshaw,
Wm. A. Haygood,
Committee Trinity Sunday School.
you pass through forests where the snow is
never melted from winter to winter, and for
dead silence and sombre gloom, equal the pine
barrens of the South. It is a relief when we
strike the cedar swamps. Then it is like a
“ Breath from Araby the blest,"
The Shah of Persia has in his palace a ter
restrial globe said to be of solid gold. It is
surrounded by circles of the same metal, and
adorned with all sorts of gems. All the coun
tries are indicated by incrustations of diamonds
and precious stones of various colors.
“By the flow of an inland river.
Whence the fleet# of iron have fled.
Where the blades of green grass quiver.
Asleep are the rauks of the dead.
Last Tuesday, May 30th, was
DECORATION DAY,
i and "tlowers.for the fallen” were brought, and the
! throng, the great, busy, sacredly aud tenderly re
membering throng, “laureled the graves of the
dead.” On that morning a great number of peo
ple repaired to the National Cemetery, at Jetter-
son Barracks, now St. Louis Arsenal. There
were the usual ceremonies aud appropriate me
morial speeches were made by ex-Gov. Fletcher,
Mr. E. D. Kargan, Col. Price, and Col. Robert
Crawford. Col. Crawford is an Alabamian, and
served in the Confederate army. We give the
tenderly and pathetically beautiful couclusiou to
his speech, which was applauded:
Of the Confederate, as of the Federal dead, let
us say,
"On fame’s eternal camping ground
Their silent tents are spreau.
Ami glory in her solemn round.
Guards tne bivouac of thedead.”
Just thirteen years ago the ominous word was
; whispered along the contending armies that
Stonewall Jackson was fatally wounded. When
dying, at first that great soldier’s mind recurred
to the scenes of battle, aud in delirium utt'ered
these historic words; "Order A. P. Hill to pre
pare for action; pass the infantry to the front
rapidly.” Presently a smile of ineffable sweet
ness spread itself over his pale face, and he said
quietly, aud with an expression as of relief, "Let
us cross over the river and rest under the shade
of the trees. ’ The river which he was passing
was the one that divided the blood-red held of
battle from the silent shaded field of death. To
day let Coulederates and Federals continue to
cross over the river that divides recrimination,
unforgiveuess and hate, to the fair and happy land
of sympathizing affection and brotherly love—
oblivion of the animosities of the past and united
struggles for the glory of our common country in
the luture, are tne symbols of an everlasting
union, and should be the rallying cry of every
American citizen. In doing so we shall have an
approving echo from the spirit land, under the
shade of the trees from across the river where
our Federal aud Confederate kindred in sileut
martyred grandeur rest, lu the asnes of all bit
ter remembrances let the flowers of kindred es
teem and kindred glories eternally bloom, cherish-
ishiug as we all do the fond hope that this Union
is but in the spring-tide of its career. [Ap
plause.]
Our city last week witnessed the theatrical debut
of a fair, gifted woman of Southern parentage,
MRS. W. N. BELDEN.
For weeks before the occasion our papers had
been filled with sensational items in regard to the
debutante; her magnificent "toilets” even had
been described in detail, and as a matter of course,
the populace in general were in a high state of
qui owe. But at last, the eventful evening came,
and with the people we rushed to see La Belden
in her initiative effort as
“JULIET.”
How our hearts went out to the fair, young and
graceful woman, as she fowed acknowledgment to
tne loud and earnest acclaim that greeted her first
appearance.
tiul would shr prove a grand, sweet type oi'tffe
fair Capuiet, that had charmed and beguiled us,
through so many theatrical years ? Surely sym
metry, grace, and beauty were not wanting in the
lithe, willowy physique, and a semi-spirituelle face
with the dark, violet eyes, shadowed by the dusky
friuge of drooping lids.
But, the play goes on, and alas, we cannot hear
what the fair Juliet is saying; and now our heart
sinks within us and presages a sore defeat, as the
pit of the gallery applaud—where the applause
should not come in. BBt the balcony scene comes
on, and Juliet indeed “is coming out.” Full of
witchery are her face and tender tones in this
scene; and we think, as we catch the trembling
sheen of moonbeams reflected on jeweled hair of
“fire-flies tangled in a' silver braid.”
From this scene La Belden takes heart
and goes bravely on, gaining vigor and strength
of action with every movement.
The applause comes in at the right places now,
and the audience is beginning to realize that she
is proving a
QUEEN OF TRAGEDY,
in truth. And at last, when it was all well over,the
mad parting from Romeo, the hideous death, and
all Mrs. Belden was called before the curtain
and crowned in the synonym of fame and success, a
LAUREL WREATH.
Right royally and gracefully she wore her honor
—as became a true daughter of Melpomene.
M. J. W.
• — .
[For The Sunny South.]
LAWYERS.
I find the following statement going the rounds
of the newspapers:
“ The people of the United States pay over
$30,000,000 annually to the lawyers to gratify
their own love of quarreling and contention.”
1 do not know how much money is spent in liti
gation, but a large amount no doubt. But my
point is this: there is nothing about which greater
popular errors exist than about lawyers, litigation
and the good faith of parties to suits in court. A
stupid notion prevails that to every suit which
comes into court, one of the parties thereto is not
only wrong, but morally wrong, and is making an
effort to get from the other what he ought not to
have, or resist what ought to be given up without
objection.
This is pure stupidity. In much the larger
half of all the civil cases litgated in court, both
parties honestly believe they are right. The most
honest, conscientous men 1 have ever known, were
the severest and most unrelenting litigants. This
was founded on the present conviction of right.
When two such men differ, they differ as wide as
the poles, and litigation with them is a fight for
principle as well as for money.
Loose, slack, twisted men never litigate much.
Men of convictions, men who believe things,
self-reliant, earnest men, they who do something
in the world, the only class who are much account,
are the men who pay the millions referred to in
the extract above.
I hope to be pardoned for saying here, that I
think very little of that amount has been paid to
the lawyers in Georgia for the last two or three
years.
Ignorance has made another idea apparently
popular, and that is that lawyers are a slipery,
tricky set of men. There is not a man or woman
in the United States who has ever had anything
to do with the profession, who does not know from
experience that this is not true, in no class of men
is so much confidence daily reposed as in the law
yers. There is no right, money, property, nor
character that is not every day, and with absolute
confidence entrusted to the lawyers.
Somebody will say there are bad lawyers.
Y'es, and if you will name any profession, trade
or calling in which there are not black sheep, then
I will say the lawyers are all bad and only bad.
Arnot