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(For the Sunnv South.) Cosmopolitan Stories; —OH,— UNDER SIX FLAGS. BY O. A. E. “Yes, Mrs. Blackburn," her maid quietly an swered. “I am here to do your bidding, and I hope I shall be able to give you satisfaction." “Well, let us go there.” Anne preceded her mistress to her private parlor, the door of which she held open to her. When they had entered, Mrs. Blackburn invited “I was charmed with it," answered Mary. “ I believe it is generally conceded that works of this sort have reached a greater finish in Paris than anywhere else.” “Yes, I am sure that as far as arts, sciences and general civilization are concerned, my be loved native city is the queen of cities. But I Anne to take a seat, and before long the two ' must beg your pardon beforehand for my enthu wolfish, tigrish, full of discord, discontent and bitterness, as the coarser nature strikes the all too susceptible chords of self. It would be a safe rule in life to dismiss any friend who has not power to teach, improve and benefit, and to steer clear of the callous and the coarse. She went on a visit to New Orleans, and a pleasant ated, and was admitted to practice at the bar; at thirty-five was judge of the Supreme Bench, and had been M. C. three times. "Ida, I was another 1 woman’s brat’—a low outcast and social rariah, and yet grandma made my reformation a labor of love." “Oh ! papa," cried Ida tearfully, “I thought “After having reflected over it for some time, the result waa that I burnt the half-finished let ter and you became my wife. I will now try to explain my idea to you.” May commenced listening to him with great attention. “ My love for you," continued her husband, “was so deep, and if I may say it that should not, so unselfish, that it led me to regard your j happiness paramount to all other considers- j tions, and my own as a secondary matter; and how could that happiness best be promoted ? I Not by trapping you into a loveless marriage, j certainly; but by procuring you an opportu- j nity to mingle with people, study their ways, and expand your magnificent mind by the I knowledge of matters anil things in general nn- j der the guidance of a friendly instructor, older | and more experienced than yourself. I longed ! to be that devoted leader of your steps in the : new road through life that I wished you to j travel. But how was it to be accomplished ? If J I had given to you my aid and protection while being an unmarried young woman, evil tongues 1 would not have been wanting long, whose de- ! light it would have been to bespatter your pure and unstained character with their venom. | Against Dr. Blackburn’s wife, however, nobody | could dare to whisper a suspicion; and so I ! threw our marriage vows as a powerful shield j around your future life. Do you follow me, | Mary ? ” “Yes,” she answered, softly; but the expres- I nion of close attention in her deep blue eyes was j the best assurance. "Under that iegis, I could pursue my plans j for your welfare untrammeled; and now I will ! tell you what those plans are, and see if you ap- j prove of them: I propose that you and I, in a ; few days, when necessary matters have been ar ranged, set out on our wedding tour. My idea is that we remain for a while in several of the principal countries in Europe, so as to give you an opjmrtunity of gaining instruction from a few chapters of that inexhaustible volume which was published God alone knows where, and whioh we call ‘ the world.’ But you must travel as my niece, and not as m^ wife.” "And why, Charles?” asked the young wo man, timidly, the numb coolness in her heart gradually dissolving before the fire of an in creasing ouriosity. "Because, as I mentioned before, your heart might awake and fill with a rapturous attach ment to some congenial being of the other sex, and because I, in that case, would like you to enjoy the liberty to follow your inclination, and give your heart and hand to somebody who, un like me, had succeeded in gaining the precious gift of your affection, for which I have sighed in vain.” Mary sat staring at her husband as if petri fied. At last she asked, in a trembling voice: “ But, Charles, are not you and I married ?” “Yes, nominally; for I consider a union where heart does not sink into heart, and mind amalgamate with mind, as a trifling coalition, cemented only by an empty formula. Now, I know that a woman like you only loves once in her life; that her love is enduring, all-absorb ing and unconquerable, and that such a love must be crowned by a marriage in fact, and not in name only, or else the happiness of its sub ject is blasted forever. You would like to know how such a union is to be effected with regard young women were engaged in a conversation that nobody who had chanced to hear it would \ have suspected of being held between a mistress and her servant, for both were endowed with j excellent good sense. Mary understood that j nearly all the advantage she had over Anne,was ; that she chanced to be Dr. Blackburn’s wife; and though Anne, on her part, was aware that the doctor had designated her more as a com panion than a servant to his wife* yet she was j very careful not to presume on her position, ! rendering in a cheerful and delicate manner the j little services of which her mistress might stand j in need, and thus all constraint between the 1 two was soon completely broken down. They continued talking until late in the night j about domestic matters and little incidents in 1 their lives, and it was with great pride and grat- * ifieation that Mary listened to the warm enco miums of her husband which came from her j companion as often as he happened to form a j subject of their conversation. Contrary to all her fears and apprehensions, ; Mary enjoyed a peaceful rest this first night in j her new home, and awoke next morning re- I freshed, happy and more blooming than ever. 1 She met her husband at breakfast. His man- i ners towards her were gentle and attentive as usual, their conversation flowed easy and unre- ! strained, and Mary felt an atmosphere of unde- finable peace and serenity surrounding her in j that large room, very different from that which had almost stifled her the previous evening. After breakfast the doctor went out, and Mary spent the forenoon in company with Mrs. Brown j and Anne, attending to domestic matters and ; receiving instructions in the details of house , keeping from the kind-hearted and experienced 1 old lady. When the dinner hour approached, ! Mary’s interest in her new occupation and at- j tachment to her well-regulated domicile had in- j creased to such a degree that it was with a secret | feeling of regret she thought of her eontem- j plated wedding tour. A few days afterwards Mrs. White, having in j the meantime disposed of her shop, took pos session of the apartments the doctor had fitted up for her, and the uninterrupted glow of con tentment that irradiated her mother’s face,caused Mary to feel as if now nothing on earth was left to her to wish for, except a feeling of love for her husband. The want of that was the only sombre cloud that darkened her life’s horizon. As the time for the doctor's and his wife’s de parture drew near, Mary's mother and Mrs. Brown were busily engaged in making prepara tions for that long journey, and so many things were to be attended to, and so many matters to be discussed, that time seemed to have taken wings; and, before they were aware of it, the day had come on which the grand wedding tour was to commence. On a clear and sunshiny May morning the newly-married couple set out, attended by James and Anne, and leaving the two old ladies with full power to carry on the government of the house till the return of the doctor and his wife, which was to take place at some future time, not definitely settled upon as yet, siasm with regard to Paris, which I am sure you will grant me, if you bear in mind that I have been the favored object of the allurements and good graces of this enchanting sovereign ever since my childhood.” “ Have you ever been in Eagland, Mr. Levas- seur ?” “ Once or twice." “And what impression did my country make j on you ?” “Ah ! Mile. Blackburn, I found it a little too foggy to be agreeable. And I must confess that l I have had some difficulty in conceiving how a ! lady like you could have sprung from that misty : isle. Y'ou are intelligent, spirituelle, and evi dently intended to bloom under the genial sun- rays of our beautiful France. Nature is a ; woman, and, lovely though she be, is apt to j ! allow her judgment to slumber sometimes, when ; | under the influence of some of the ravishing ! j impulses to which her sex is now and then sub- | j jected. I strongly suspect that it was in a mo- i ment of such absent-mindedness that she al- I lowed you to slip into existence in sober Albion, I and thus deprived France of one of her loveli- i Oft daughter.” j “I am very much obliged to you, Mr. Levas- i seur,” said Mary, smiling calmly, “for your elaborate compliment, which you, of course, will ! permit me, being nothing but a simple English i girl, to take with a grain of salt. I think France I can very well sustain the loss of a person of my i importance.” “ Bnt do you not believe, really, my dear Mile. | Blackburn, that you could lead a happier life j here than across the channel ?” (TO BE CONTINUED.) correspondence ensued, aDd on the Ides of No- i dear grandma was your own mother; but I will vember Mr. Holmes went for his bride. Dinah, an ancient negress who occupied the responsi- I ble position of housekeeper, was telegraphed i to get the house in readiness, and Master John also, pending their arrival, and gleefully im- j parted the information in this wise: “ ‘Now you’ll git it, Marse John.' Can’t tell love her better than ever now, because she wss so brave and good, and only for her, the bright est judge on the bench would have been lost to the world.” The door opened, and a stately old lady en tered in rich black silk, with rioh lace ruffles at the throat and falling over the small, snowy. me 'bout stepmothers; I’ve seen ’em, I has; an’ I jeweled hands. Ida flew to her and hugged her [For The Bunny South.] THE STEP-MOTHER. BY MBS. AMELIA “ Children are like tooth-brushes—every one wants their own papa, and I have no ambition to be wet-nurse or nursery governess for another woman’s brats. Dr Wylie is allyou say, I suppose as men go,—he is personified perfection. Never theless he must go elsewhere for a mother for his children. That is my sole objection, hut it is insurmountable.” And the speaker, a girl on the shady side of twenty, rose from her seat, and strolled to the piano and began playing low symphonies as if to soothe her perturbed feel ings. Judge Dixmont laid down his paper, grave and dissatisfied of face, saying: “As a rule, the suitor whom tho parents con sider particularly eligible, the child considers peculiarly objectionable. Of all the men I know, Dr. Wylie stands pre-eminent as a noble Christ ian gentleman. He is talented and progressive, has a large and lucrative practice, is popular and handsome. The only drawback is two little girls of two and four, whose very helpness- ness and innocence would appeal strongly to Their first destination was Paris, where the j any one’s sympathies. I will tell you a story, doctor had an old friend, a French physician, in whose family they were to remain for some time, Blackburn having an insuperable aversion to any kind of hotel life. After a short and pleasant journey, Dr. and Miss Blackburn were received in that friend's house with true French cordiality and politeness, which made Mary feel at home at once. The French doctor had two Ida, and when it is done, if you still consider the children an insurmountable objection, I will never revert to the subject again. “Once upon a time, thp're was a domestic Eden, in a certain town in 'this State. The fa mily consisted of father, mother and one child, a boy of five. The mother was young, beautiful and talented, a natural sunbeam, full of vivaci to you ? I will tell you. As soon as you hare grown daughters, who vied with each other in J ty, and the admiration of aWjw-ho knew her, and found an object worthy of your affection*, and ^ uking the 8 life G ’ f their Eng i isjh guest as agree- | her husband was idolatroSsly fond of her. of whom I approve, I will fully disclose to him the relation existing between you and me, pro cure a divorce, and deliver you to him as spot less as you were before our marriage to enjoy the happiness I so warmly wish may fall to your lot. Until that time arrives, you must look upon me only as your guardian and dearest friend on earth.” Mary, without uttering a word, sat motionless looking into the fire, a prey to the most con flicting emotions, awakened by her husband’s strange disclosure. This lofty disinterested ness stunned her completely. She found her self entirely unable to give the matter anything like a calm consideration; and as the pro tracted silence became painful to her, she at last iSk d: “But why did you take so much trouble to arrange the house, if those were your inten tions ? ” “ That, Mary, is something I can hardly ex plain to you. It was a whim, coupled, perhaps, j with an indistinct hope that you might com- j mence feeling a little kindlier towards me,view- j ing what I had done as an expression of the I tender solicitude of my loving heart. But when j I observed how a dark gloom enveloped your ; mind after having taken possession of your new i domicile, my floating expectations vanished j like a dissolving mist, and I resolved to adhere i to my original plans. Now, it remains for you ; to tell me what you think of all this.” The young wife reflected a long time, for her ! position was so novel that she found it no easy j task to obtain a clear view of it. The first effect 1 of her husband’s communication, however, was to clear away the oppressiveness and unpleas ant, shadowy anticipations that had hung around her until he commenced explaining his intentions. She now began to feel as if she had found shelter in a safe harbor against a threat ening storm, and that feeling aided her materi ally in composing her mind and giving solidity to her ruminations. When she at last had come to a conclusion, she lifted her limpid blue eyes to her husband’s grave countenance, and said in a tone that sounded as if it rose from the very bottom of her heart: “Charles, I steadfastly believe that you are j the noblest man God ever created. Do with me j as you will; you know best what is good for us.” j Over the doctor’s serious features there flashed j a gleam of satisfaction at his wife’s candid words. ! He thanked her for the reliance upon him which i sebi,ea - she had manifested. Before long their conver- j sation assumed the easy, unembarrassed flow it j had had when carried on in the back room of j Mrs. White’s shop, and in a short time Mary j felt as if she had lived in her securely sheltered j home for months. j Thus they talked together till the clock struck ; eleven, when the doctor rose and said> “I will now withdraw to my sanctum across ! the passage and leave you to rest, as you must ; feel somewhat fatigued after the events of this day. liinw for Anne when you wish to retire, j anil she will conduct you to your rooms. You able as possible, and in aiding her to perfect her somewhat deficient knowledge of the French language. Mary employed one or two hours every morn ing in studying, assisted by her husband, after which they generally rode out and visited art galleries, libraries and other places where in struction and pleasure were to be obtained. The doctor furnished her with scraps of history or anecdote connected with all the places worthy of notiee to which they went, so that Mary had a very agreeable and practical course in French history, under her faithful and able instructor. Sometimes they drove around the Champs Elysees, or in the BoisdeBoulogne, in company with the young ladies of the house, and here Mary had a fine opportunity to study Parisian life in all its glittering brilliancy. Their even ings were mostly spent at operas, concerts or private parties, and sometimes, although more rarely, in the refined family circle of their host. During the first period of her life in the French capital, Mary had evinced a certain shy ness and diffidence, for it was no easy task for an Englrsh shop-girl to know how to demean herself when suddenly transplanted from a back street in London to one of the most fashionable quarters in Paris. But her excellent common sense and keen power of observation, in con nection with her consciousness of having such a defender at her back as her husband, soon set her at ease, and in a short time the amiable English lady was looked upon with an uncom- Where ever these rare unions exist, death may be safely predicted standing near, sceptre in hand. “The yellow fever swept through the town; the brazen demon that destroys so many fair homes, and all that was left of her was her wed ding dress, her jewels and tiny slippers, over which the crazy husband bended for hours. In his grief he forgot his little son, as his mother would never have done, and the child would steal softly up stairs and peep in at Ms father, who, with bowed head and aching heart, sat in the room where she died, bathed in the weird moonlight, and oblivious of all around him. “So he sat for months, till grief had become disease. Grief is the least liberal and most selfish of our emotions, and the pain is the personal suffering the loss occasions. We shall be lonely, miserable, uncared-for. 'No one will care specially for our comfort, or study our hap piness. No one will miss us when absent, and long and watch hungrily for our return. The first person is paramount in grief, and Mr. Holmes, blind to a sense of his parental respon sibility, bestowed no thought upon the child who naturally gravitated to the kitchen. The African race have had superior advantages in the shape of moral instruction and churches from time immemorial in the South; but they remain as uncivilized and beastly to-day as their cousins in African solitudes. Under such educators, John Holmes at eight was notorious, a little swearing ruffian, who was the terror of mon degree of interest by the limited social cir- | the town children. Once in awhile Mr. Holmes cle in which she moved. If now and then a j woke up and gave him a terrible cowhiding; slight touch of gancherie was perceptible in her, it was considered as an English peculiarity, and accounted for by the embarrassment that natu rally must arise from her not yet having suffi ciently mastered the French language. But those slight touches of awkwardness were soon entirely polished off, as Mary had made it her particular study to derive benefit from the advantages that the mingling in polite society offered her, and thereby to show her gratitude for her husband’s magnanimous generosity towards her. Soon she had become the belle of her circle, and the flattering attentions which the elegant young Parisians paid to the rich and beautiful English lady, would have been enough to turn the head of anybody with less strong nerves and clear sense than she fortunately pos- but it was productive of no good, and did not arrest him an instant in his headlong career to destruction. One day, an indignant neighbor presented a heavy bill for a fine French-plate show-case which Master John had broken, and a council of exasperated and long-suffering citi zens regularly impeached the boy, in his father’s presence, of sundry high crimes and misdemeanors. The poor father's eyes sud denly opened to the enormity of his own con duct, the culpable neglect which had ruined the gentle and innocent child his dying wife had commended with tears to his charge; and John, who confidently expected an unmerciful whipping, stood aghast when his father leant his sorrowful head on the table, and cried: “‘I don’t know what to do with him,’ he wailed in the bitterness of his heart. ‘ Oh ! Lilly, if you could see the boy you were Among those who paid her particular homage, _ „ were two gentlemen of very dissimilar charac- I proud of once, and who was to be judge and ter. Mr. Levasseur, handsome, witty and lively, j president some day !’ a f fLn unwnlaoo foaninofimv ! * * * Taocfin *c nmo hrirrllf need have no reserve in talking to her, as both I some Englishwoman, to judge from the constant he and her mother are fully aware of all our 1 and assiduous attentions they showed her on plans and proceedings. And now, dear Mary, good night, and God bless you.” And with a warm pressure of her hand, the doctor left her. He adjourned to his old retreat in his office, where he remained for a while indulging in pleasant reflections over the smooth course af fairs seemed to take, after which he took his Marry,’ suggested Eeason, ‘some bright, clear-headed woman—a widow, large-hearted, sympathetic and humane. Having children, she will bring valuable experience into the management of child and household.’ "‘But John is notorious,’ he remonstrated; “ no woman in her senses would undertake such a Herculean task.’ “ ‘Try Mrs. Clarke,’ suggested the good angel. ‘ She is like oxygen and sunshine, and possesses great administrative ability—a natural ruler, as others are natural poets or painters.’ “Sunday came, and Mr. Holmes went to church, for the first time in three years, and es corted Mrs. Clarke home, asking and receiving permission to call again. She had bewitched him in the ten minutes walk from church. Her very laugh was infectious, and she had the rare _ ^ tact to draw out the best in each. She soothed i gardens and halis. Ah! the grand secret is doctor’s house, d aring the progress of which he , and strengthened him. When he went to church, j this: make the evil happy, and you make them was a perfect type of the careless, fascinating and graceful Parisian; whereas, Mr. Pichegru, on the contrary, with his melancholy, almost morose expression of countenance, poetical turn of conversation and languid movements, repre sented a class of individuals not often to be found in the gay capital of “ the great nation.” Now, strange to say, these two men of so differ ent a mental constitution seemed to have been hopelessly smitten by the charms of the hand- every occasion. They had managed to be intro | duced into the French physician’s family, and became, after awhile, the most frequent visitors ! to his house. One evening, after having heard a new opera ' with Dr. Blackburn, his host and the ladies, i Levasseur was invited to supper at the French i dat woman yer pa done married is noted for her strictness. She'll lift yer ha’r, I tell you ! Oh ! Lord, bnt she’ll fan you with a fence-rail! Enty I done tole you your pa would marry some day. Bnt I’m sorry for you, po’ chile!. Sure, don’t tell her I said anythin’ agin her, ’cause I didn’t; I’m comprehendin’ stepmothers generally.’ Sh6 breaks out singing: “ Oh ! de day am a cornin’ when we'll go home, Jews screws de fidum ! An' eat pies an’ cakss by de great white throne, Jews screws de fidnm!" “ Mass John, is you gwine to hab on your clean olosaan’ git washed ? Y'ou aint 'i Well, it’ll be a sorry day for yon when de bride gits yah, an' yon lookin like po white folks' Chilian. Yon yer my miration, John Holmes?” John swears and throws the hatchet at her, hoping it will strike her; and dirty and forlorn, with a fierce sense of injustice in his breast, he wends his way down to the wharf, unheeding the pitiless sleet A blue norther is blowing—a norther deeply, darkly, horribly blue, and' the tears that well up from their founts hot, freeze as they fall from his rounded cheek. The wharf is deserted, and the wind, aoming over the tur bulent bay, is keen as a newly-ground knife. He crouches on the south side of a building and waits. The steamer is due. He glances toward the Loads, and there she is, the Mexico, rocking in the harbor, and soon the dreaded step-moth er, with whom it will be war to the knife and the knife to the hilt, will be the presiding divinity of the only place he can call home. Drays rattle along the strand and out upon the wharf, the drivers with red noses and gloved hands, their mouths converted into miniature smoke-stacks, and some of them curse the weather as they pass the wretched child. It is strange, but when man, woman or child are in trouble—in deep, scathing trouble—surround ings impress themselves upon the mind, even to the minutest detail, forming, as it were, a picture Kembrandtian in light and shade and bold in prospective. John sees here and there a broken plank, and wonders why it is not re paired; then his desolate eyes fall on a crab, who, regardless of the day, is probably going to see a particular friend. He glanoes again at the steamer. The cannon is fired, and she touches the wharf. He sees his father hand a lady into the rockaway; afterwards a little curly-haired boy of three, and with a child's unerring per ceptions, divines her character. It is a pleas ant, genial face, but firm as adamant. He rises and looks over the gray waste of waters, solemn as sleep in death, and exclaims: “It can’t be no worse, anyway," and the ten der God looked pityingly on the small misan thrope, with his heart, that should have been as stainless as snowy fleece, scarlet with sin. He reaches home and darts into the parlor and creeps under the sofa. The room is cheer ful and bright, with that best of all furniture in bitter weather, a big fire. Soon his father and mother enter. Says the lady: “I shall send one of the servants to find John. This is no day for a little child to be out-doors.” “ The negroes say he is particularly fractions to-day,” Mr. Holmes answers. “ My dear, I am afraid John will give you a great deal of trouble. I have whipped him till I had to give it up in despair.” “I do not believe in whipping," replies Mrs. Holmes dryly, “and shall try moral suasion. Any sensible child can be governed without [ blows.” “I wonder what moral suasion is ?” queried Master John. “If I hadn’t played hookey so much I’d know. Catch me wasting time that away again.” They leave the room, and John follows in a little while, and stands boldly on the threshold of the dining-room. His bold, bright, black eyes are redolent of defiance, but when the lady rises and kisses him and leads him to the fire and actually holds him on her lap, it recalls the fair young mother for whom his child heart is still j sore, who was rudely snatched from him never I more to return, and though he makes a brave j effort to keep back his tears—he who would not 1 cry when, in his bitter and almost daily fights, I handfuls of hair is torn out of his head—breaks | quite down and cries; and through his blurred j eyes he sees the little child he saw in his fath- ; er’s arms draw near and say sweetly: “Is it my little brother, mama?” “Yes,” answers Mrs. Holmes. “And, John, i when Willie is with you I want to feel perfectly safe and secure in the belief that you will not i let him hear bad words or let him get hurt. I j want to be proud of my two boys when they are I men.” “ A step-mother talking like that! Too good ! to hold out,” whispered the evil nature. But as weeks wore on and it was proved that j she was not only wise, but good, John’s nature be- j gan to radically change. She was a fairy as po- I tent as Queen Mab, and beauty and order sprang i up in her footsteps. The house was refurnished j and a beautiful and handsomely-furnished room ! assigned to John. The grounds were laid off ! tastefully—rustic seats and urns and statuary j introduced. The walls of his room were hung j with chromos rich in bright colors, and vases i filled with flowers were daily placed upon his i mantel. “Anything is good enough for a boy,” • is the common exclamation. Well, it is, if j you want to animalize him—not unless. If you j want him to be high-toned, gentlemanly, re- ; fined, let his surroundings be perfectly refined, j the refinement extending clear through from j surroundings to act and utterance. He saw that j he was coarse and rude, with a sense of humili- J ation, and strove to get rid of his kitchen habits J and conversation. Once he forgot himself and i swore in her presence, and the trouble her eyes | expressed smote him with keen pain. Well dressed, well fed, taught to consider j himself a boy who would some day be a leader j among men, the angles rounded beautifully. He began to learn rapidly, and acquired, in j place of the bold effrontery, a graceful self-pos- ; session and self-respect, without which no man or woman can be a success. Theoretical humil ity is beautiful, and exalts while it abases; prac tical humility, a sense of utter unworthiness, will make and keep a man a clod for others to walk upon. It il as important to aspire as it is to respire, and we, who hate a dog if it cringes, have little patience with the Uriah Heepish trait, of whioh there is quite too much in this old world of ours. Mr. Holmes looked proudly at his wife as his reconstructed son bore off prize after prize at school and his merry soDgs rang through the roughly, crying: i “ Oh ! you dear old precious grandma ! Papa has been telling me what you have been to j him.” I The lady dropped her hands on the black | hair of her stalwart son. “ My son, you should have waited till I was ! gone ere telling that story. But,” smilingly, j “ he was too modest to tell yon, Ida, that it was a flue nature all run to weeds, and the weeds j had so little root that a touch drew them up, and in their place sprang up a rare flower. He i gave me no trouble. Take any child and place i it among educated, refined, bright people, and j it will be all the most fastidious can desire.” Says Ida presently: “Papa, I have reconsidered my decision. I am sorry for Dr. Wylie's motherless children, and will try to be as good a mother to them as grandma was to you.” And ere he could frame a reply, she slipped from the room. •Jews crucified him. ENIGMAS, PUZZLES, ETC. All mall for this department most be addressed to j “ Puzzle Department,” Sunny Bouts, Atlanta, Georgia. ANSWERS TO PUZZLES, ETC., IN 92. I No. 1—Diamond Puzzle: P PIT NICHE PICTUK8 MOUSE WHY E No. 2—Decapitation: Flea—lea. Ox—x (10). No. 3—Problem: A. 5 35-25; B. 13 27-11. and C 30 20-41 miles. Time, 10 5-11 hours. No. 1—Enigma: Nora Burks. No. 5—Enigma: Mary Theodosia Moore. to oub puzzlers. B. M. Harden, Calhoun, Ga., answers Noe. 1 and 5 cor rectly. Maggie P. Harrell, Straaburg, Ala., answers Nos. 3, 1 and 5 correctly. Cbas. E. Larndin, Barnesville, Ga., answers Problem No. 3. “A,” Acworth, Ga., answers No. 5. R. H. Davis, Brlstoe, Va., auswers Nos. 1 and 5. J. W. Parker, Richmond, Va., answers No. 5. “ Phoebe,” Richmond, Va., answers Nos. 2, 1 and S. Mattie Thomas, Atlanta, Ga., answers Nos. 1 and 5. Willie A. Baines, Danville, Va., answers Nos. 2, 4 and 5. ” Carl Bertie,” Marietta, Ga., auswers Nos. 2,1 and 3. William Ballard, Norfolk, Va., box 581, answers No. 5, and wants more information about the lady. Arthur J. Henry, Lake City, Fla., answers No. 5 oor- rectly, and claims the prize—the love of s© young lady. Nora Burks, Liberty, Va., takes the rty of sending her own name answer to No. 4; also, correct solutions to Nos. 2 and 5. NEW PUZZLES AND ENIGMAS. No. 1—Decapitation. Behead an animal and leave a delicate organ. Behead a vegetable and leave a drink, ” Maikiis.” No. 2—Charade. (To A. A. E.) Two syllables compose my whole. Second and whole are made For first, and in a Christian land In savage style displayed. Firtt, part of animal and plant; Of plant, 'tis sweetest fresh. Second Is bottomless; oft made To till with human flesh. Second is messenger to firtt. Telling of danger near; The harbinger of joy and love— Renews the mourner's tear. Firtt found on earth; second on earth And in the sky is shown; With one smart rap upon my firtt. My whole is quickly known. Zokomoree, Atlanta, Oa. No. 3—Puzzle. (Inscribed to E E .) My first pertains to value, As you can plainly see; My second then, without mistake, A relative must be. My third, it is a something which From some you ne'er find out; First and second, with nothing between. You’ve oft heard speak, no doubt. The whole of this will name a place Where first and second dwell; So call your wits together— The answer to me tell. For the first correct solution (Now, “Misses,” please attend) From a “sweet lass” under nineteen, “ Dennis Duval ” I’ll send. Make no mistake in sending it; And please address the letter. With exact age therein enclosed. To ” Crab,” Hampton, Virginia. No. 4—Charade. If what old Darwin has written Be not altogether untrue, Mj firtt was great grand-father, • Dear reader, to me and to you. My tecond, were I passing through 'Neath a calm and cloudless sky; There, should I meet a lovely lassie. And should Bhe kiss me, should'I ary ? Beneath the roof of my third I trust Some darling sweet creature and me. As the years, like sunbeams, vanish, Shall live contented and free. My whole is a sort of plum-lika fruit, That anybody’s palate, I judge, will suit. J. P. Hart, Ark. No. •—Word Square. My first after the water brook Panteth with raging thirst; My third, he does, whom heartless Fate With madness has accurst. My tecond conveys an idea— A faint one 'tis, indeed— Where the stars so brightly twinkle; My fourth Is not a slim reed. P. H. Hart, Ark. No. 6—Enigma. I am composed of twenty-one letters. My 7, 2, 3,11. is what we should all strive to be. My 12,16, 4, 19, is a girl’s name. My 5, 14, 20, is a kind of fish. My 1, 2, 20, 20. 11, 15, is an occupa;iou. My 12, 16,1, 18, is a city in Georgia. My 6,8. 1. 13, 2, 12, 14 is a species of bat. My 9, 21. 10. 14, is a body of water. My 20, 16,17.17, 8, is a popular little actresB. My whole is the name and address of a young lady who will send her photo to the first young gent sending cor rect solution, Iudqd as usual and retired up the spiral stairs to and Mary happened to be seated at a small side-| fie did not see that he was walking through J good. Pain and distress, dearth of comfort, his bed-room where he soon slept the sleep of ! table in a corner of the salon, all by themselves. | sunshine; at leaving her, he wondered at the j makes demurs; comfort, surcease of care and SirirtV* nnnnrtviTiifina fVlft U TAY* 1 . r Kf 1 V* I** rATifll TTi O : C7 01 l l P TV (t] fUT QT1 VkPU.nf.N7 flf f .Vk ft cl'T Si i) ft WOO fr» 1 trrtnKlft maVfta Q rt ffftl C • Q T1 f 1 O rl xrftYlZ i * rr rwolr-fta the just. His wife remained for a good while musing in her new elegant parlor; then she rang for Anne, who instantly appeared. “Anne,” she said with a kind smile, “the .doctor told me you would accompany me to my Such opportunities the sprigfitly Frenchman always tried to improve, and he and Mary soon became engaged in a lively conversation. “How did the performance of the evening please you. Mile. Blackburn ?” he asked, after a few preliminary remarks had passed between them. golden glow and beauty of the sky. She was to his mind what iron and strychnia are to the nervons system. Some people draw out the J good that is in ns, and elevate; others weaken i and depress, where they do not actually degrade, j We feel like purring softly under the benign, | refined, silky influence of this one; and we are i trouble makes angels; and adversity makes many a bad man or woman who, under happier auspices, would be pure and sweet. For Mrs. Holmes, John entertained a love that could neither be estimated, weighed nor guaged, while her child was his idol. So the happy years wore on. At twenty-one he gradu- Be a Man.—Foolish spending is the father of poverty. Do not be ashamed of hard w»rk. Work for the best salary of wages you can gei, but work tor half price rather than be idle. Be your own master, and do not let society or fashion swallow you up individually—hat, coat and boots. Do not eat up or wear out all that you can earn. Compel your selfish body to spare something for profits saved. Be stingy to your own appetite, but mer ciful to others’ necessities. Help others, and ask no help for yourselves. See that you are proud, too. Let your pride be of the right kind. Be too proud to be lazy ; too proud to give up conquering every difficulty. INSTINCT PRINT