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TW ROWERS COLLECTION VOL III. J. H. & W. B. SEALS,fraormrro^' ATLANTA, GA., SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 9, 1878. TERMSjOTv'K!* .NO 138. THE SOLDIER. The battle-cloud rends, from its bosom burst out. The red lightnings play ronnd his forehead in wrath. His heart leaps to meet the mad fray with a shout, And follows death fearlessly on his wild path. What recks he of life and the things it has won him* He's alone, with eternity looking npon him, Honor, liberty, love, these are hid in the cloud And he’ll win them or sink to his torn banner-sbreud. Bat the cloud rolls away and the stars clamber up. The eyes of beloved ones look down in their light. Bve sprinkles the earth from a dew-brimming cup, And fragrance, rest, peace, reign abroad In the night. How sweet now is life and the things it may win him. Thonghta, flocking like birds, make sweet music within him, Love, liberty, life, he has won, he will keep, Bright visions enfold him, he smiles in his sleep. Mrs. Laura Vmnvh.. THE FIRST ROSE OF SUMMER. ’Tie the first rose of summer ! It bndded alone, And now. In its beauty I call it mine own. First born of the season ! No roeebnd ie nigh ! To rival its blushes, Or list to its sigh. I’ll not leave thee, thus lovely. To wither and pine ; Till thy blossoming eistera Thy beauty outshine. Not unkindly I sever Thy cup from the stem, To place on my bosom— A bright, living gem t Thns. thus I’d be living. Obscure and alone ; To be sought for and cherished By one, only one. This boon Fate, this only I pray thee impart. Let me bloom, tar and lonely Till loved by one heart. Zoa Zb were The Old Tatty House. Gertrude thought hi& attitude was one of entrancement.—.See the “ Girl-Rivals ” on 8th page. wants were tew, and it bis good dinners were ! angle opposite the iron gate, andnothing flavor when they did cor. ■ t pon his visiting have brought him out of his uld shopwithont The first observation made by the young lady i was the absence of servants id waiting. It oc- ; onrred to her, also, that there was no lady’s maid assigned her the night before. She bad not been accustomed to this state of things, but i sbe repressed ber curiosity, and quietly began to satisfy ber appetite, which was not a little sharpened by the wakeful night she had passed under that roof. The stately bntler, whose hair t was nearly as white as tbat of the mistress of the house, stood deferentially near the door, ready I to answer any call upon him. A very short ( time elapsed, before the elder of the sisters ad- ; dressed him: “You say, Alfred, that the poor gentleman j was not seriously hurt?” “It ’pears not, Ma’am. ’Twas very sing’lar, indeed; wbat I calls a downright miracle !” “And you gave him the purse, and saw him : comfortably dressed, I suppose ?” “Yes, Ma’am. Leastways, I knows that he j was a werry ’tiklar sort of gentleman, and I f thought maybe he might sorter object to a pre- ! sent, Ma’am, so I told him the lady of the hous? would lend him the money for the time bein’, seein’ he was in snch a strait, as one might say." “Very thoughtful in you, Alfred," said the old lady, smiling at the well-meant caution and consideration of her old servant. “The worst of it all, Ma’am,” continued Al- j fred, “he seemed to be awfully distressed about | losing his silver-buckled shoes, and his snnff- j box. Ra’ally, Ma’am, he ’peared to care almost as mack about them old souveners, I think he j called ’em, as be did about savin’ his own life." “A queer old gentleman, truly,” replied the j mistress. “It is a singular affair, Ellen,” she ; said, addressing herself to the young lady. ; “An old gentleman lived in a garret of a house j over the way, and the cot he slept in was sus- I pended from the rafters. The storm last night j lifted up the roof, and brought the old gentle- ! man down upon a flower-bed in our garden! 1 Did you ever hear of such a thing ? ’ j “Never! What a funny sight it must have been, Aunt, to see him whirling through the i air, spinning like a top, I suppose, and then deposited with a thump upon a bed of flowers!” “Yes, indeed, it was a comical adventure, ,-i- BY GARNETT jtfcIVOR. CH AFTER I never opened them again to friend or foe, if foes they had. The coach gate in the rear had been There was an air of mystery about the quaint c j 08e( j so long that the hinges seemed to be rust- old house. Above the roof in six-sided col- e( j j n * 0 W all of brick masonry. Throngh a limns, fluted and circled with dingy bands ot SHja ii side-gate the only commerce with the bricks, tinted once alternately with chocolate ; wor id was carried on, the bntler issuing with his market-basket in the morning, and the milk man halting there in the morning and evening and crimson hues, rose the chimney-tops, and on each pinnacle sat an arched hood, whereon certain friendly birds were accustomed to spend their leisure hours. The house had four gable ends, fronting eaoh npon a street, for the grounds occupiod an entire block in the old col onial town of Oglethorpe. A dim oriel window, with dusty panes, looked down from the lofty gables, like a great architectural eye, a little sleepy from constant watching through balf-a twilights, were all the indications of life which the patient housemaid over the way could dis cover. Often had her curiosity overcame her awe of the stately bntler, and she plied him with many earnest questions; hut nothing came of it, except a polite invitation to mind her own affairs. An industrious cobbler in the little house across the street, sat with his hammer and dozen generations. The sides, Iront and rear aw j on jjj g knee and gased npon the closed walls were lined off in blocks, and colored with windows oi the enchanted house, and shook his the peculiar tint that gave the popular name to head ever and anon, as if he knew a great deal the establishment, “ 1’he Old Tabby House. | more than he felt at liberty to tell. He was Hit- Lofty windows, with grey blinds without, and I ting by the open window of his small bed-room walnnt-section blinds within, nearly joined the overhead, one snltry summer night, and heard mantles of the first story to the granite sills of plaintive sounds issuing from the upper story the second. In front, a massive peristyle, with ’ 0 f Tabby House. He distinguished the stately columns and Corinthian capitals, formed a shelter for the great oak door with double panels, carved with rude designs whioh in the early days were considered a marvel of art. A large brass knocker with a venerable head and beard, stood ready to announce the presence of a visitor to the inhabitants within. A high briok wall shut in the grounds from pryiug eyes, and fragments of glass bottles sunk in cement on the top of the wall advertised the difficulty which a prowling thief or burglar would encounler in trying to force an entrance. The gate in front over-topped the wall, ending in sharp spikes of iron, and on either side a lamp-post with a bell-crowned lamp of thick French glass, with aperture below to light the oil-flame originally, but now the modern gas- barn er. Within the enclosure orange trees bloomed and bore their fragrant frnit, surrounded by beds of many-hned flowers, whose walks were lined with evergreen shrubbery. There the roses opened to the balmy air of spring, and there they faded and ca-peted the soil with their wan and wasted leaves. For many years no one had seen the front gate open. The lighter of lamps came in the even ing with his friction matches, mounted the step- ladder, and gazed wistfully into the flower-gar den below, hut even he never canght sight of man, woman or child about the premises. The few servants dwelling in the lodge in the rear of the mansion, were as reticent as their superiors, and seldom mingled with their fel lows in the world withont. In vain the enrions gossips of the neighborhood songht to unravel the mystery of the silent house. There were two very old ladies dwelling there. In snowy caps, as white as the locks which they partially concealed, the ancient dames preserved the cos tumes of their early days. They had little bus iness to transact in the town, and this was always negotiated by a venerable bntler, in cooked hat and knee-breeches, whose appearance on the streets excited the rabble with a variety of emo tions. His deferential, solemn air impressed the multitude, and bis costume was not then so very strange as it would appear at this day. The old ladies in the Tabby Honse bad a his tory, and there was a spice of romance in it. A tradition existed which connected their name with two English gentlemen, who many years voice of some one in distress he thought, and with stealthy Btep he approached the wall of the yard and listened, hnt nothing came of that. No lights passing or flickering in the lofty halls — no sound of hnman foot-step—no one seemed to be astir. He mentioned the matter to his confidential friends, bnt nobody else had heard the cries, and the cobbler was compelled to sub side, with a lecture for his audacity in venturing a theory of the case. A faded old gentleman, who still affected a snuff-box and silver-buckled shoes of antique pattern, occupied a garret chamber in the tali honse on the northern side of the square. He had been a gentleman of moderate fortune half a century before, bnt good dinners, fine wines and gay company had exhausted his estate, and with his property his friends departed. Now and then he contrived to get an invitation to an extremely select party of three or four of his old boon companions, and for a few hours he lived over the famous years of his youth. He had a select reportoire of anecdotes, which he told with great relish for the thousandth time, but as he was a harmless, good-for-nothing old fellow, and had known better days, his worn- out stories were applauded by the generous com pany. Ho had no income, no employment and no family. Precisely how he managed to live and pay the few shillings rent for his serial quarters in the old lodging-honse, few people knew, or cared. He, too, had heard sounds, as of plaintive mnsic issning at midnight from the old Tabby Honse, and he had half a mind to be lieve the place was haunted, bnt he seldom men tioned the matter. In his prosperons days, he hid baen a frequent visitor at the old mansion, and even now ii did not displease him to insin uate that he odcb entertained a decided partiality for one of the sisters. Whenever he grew merry over a bottle of good wine at his occasional din ners, he was want to mention the strange mid night mnsic over the way, hnt the subject always ended with a remark from one of his compan ions, to the effect that possibly one of the hermits was reviving memories of happier days when he was yonDg, and she had hopes that never came to their fraition. The old gentleman was greatly flattered, even at the possibility of being connected with a tale of blighted love. He had made conquests, but he could not positively say tbat she was one of them. It might have been, The fresh sea-breeze wa spYqiging up just as the sun sank behind a'oauk of clouds in the west. All day the pitiless sun had poured a constant stream of dazzling light, and the very air seemed to he on fire. Doors, windows everywhere were opened to catch the first cool breath coming from the sea. All doors, all win dows except those of the old Tabby Honse. The people there never needed fresh air, and the house was shut up as usual. But in the little “stoops” and balconies the neighbors all around : the square were sitting or standing, and young : children and their nurses collected in idle , groups on the grassy lawn. The leaves of the I water oaks were still and motionless all the af- j ternoon, until the sun disappeared, when there on, and a general armistice was enforced upon ’‘That is the phrase Aunt, although Iwolud the anxious dwellers in Monmouth Square. i P refer ° nr own En 8 ll8h term ’ 1 do not hk * The dark cloud from the west grew in size and threatening appearences, and once more the sea- ! . ‘ Wel J- " as a “ accomplished diner out and breeze ceased The heavy air seemed charged { 1D ! atpr da >’ 8 1 learn that , he j^dom dines with electricity, and when the distant rumble I « nle88 18 at the . expense of his friends, was heard, each Hash of lightning on the bosom of the cloud increased in vividness. The storm approached with rapid strides, and soon peal after peal of thunder, flash after flash of light ning, accompanied with terrific winds, that howl ed and shrieked through the street. It was a terrible night. The fall of shopmen’s signs, the clatter of shutters wrung from their fastenings and dashed upon the stone pavements the^croils of flying tin-roofs, doubled up in fantastic shapes ago were guests ot the family, but for some perhaps, but in those days the world was large, cause not understood to any, the Englishmen ! and opportunities were many. After all, he had never returned to Oglethorpe, and when the I not much regret that he nerer ventured to test aged master and mistress of the Tabby Honse j the matter. Time had dealt kindly with him, , died wh»ch happened in the same week, the two | even in his poverty, and if lie had nothing in sisters closed the front windows and doors, and the way of bonds, bank-stocks and rentals, his came a gentle sigh of wind from the south, and j —the toppling bricks from shaky chimnies—the torn branches of lofty trees wildly sweeping through the air—the cries of alarm, of terror, rising in higher and higher keys than the voices of the storm, made a fearful scene. Floors of dwelling-houses shook, timbers creaked and groaned, the very ground seemed reeling to and fro. The street lamps were blown out, and to add to the horrors of the night, a falling tree was thrown npon the reservoir at the city gas works, and in a moment the whole city was in darkness, except here and there a dwelling-house whose occupants still continued the use of oil or candles. The consternation that followed, neither tongue nor pen can describe. The rain storm ed through broken panes of glass, and gusts of wind and floods of water rushed through door ways whose panels had been torn from their hinges. Mothers gathered their frightened lit tle ones, and huddled up in corners of their bed-rooms, strove to soothe the cries of terrified children. Grave people whose philosophy of life had been put to many a test before, were pale and trembling, and each flash of lightning re vealed the terrors which not even the voice of prayer could not hush. Lips unused to sacred words, moved now in frantic words of supplica tion, and for once midnight orgies in dens of sin and vice were arrested in mid career. Day dawned at length, and the storm subsi ded. When the morning sun came slowly creep ing over the shattered clouds, the relics of the storm, the snubeams fell upon a city apparently in ruins. Out of the thadows crept the old Tabby House, calm and serene as was its wont, little damaged by the tempest, but another vis itor had invaded the privacy of its grounds. Poised upon a flower bed, rested the garret-roof from the lodging-house over the way, and im prisoned in his swinging cot, and scanty night- apparel, lay the incient gentleman in the gar den of the Old Tabby House ! then a fluttering of branches, iollowed by a steady current of cool and grateful air. There was a sense of relief everywhere expressed. The young children began to romp and play on the grass, the loungers walked to and fro, and conversation sprang np on every side. The shadows of trees were growing more and more indistinct, when the sound of carriage wheels was heard. The vehicle passed by the crowd upon the green, and stopped at the gate of the old Tabby House! There was a genuine sensation among all be holders. Many young eyes that had never seen the iron gate swing upon its hinges, looked in amazement as a lady passed throngh the gate, approached the door, which opened as if by magic without the touch of hnman hand, and those trunks, or boxes were landed by a porter within the mysterious walls ! The coachman’s assistant tarried but a moment, there was a jingle ot silver, the door closed and everybody drew a long breath of mingled surprise and pleasure. The news spread like fire in a prairie over the whole quarter of the town. There was a visitor at the Tabby Ho^se ! That visitor was a lady—a young lady—a beautiful young lady with everso much luggage; she had come to stay! What now ? Another hermit, to add perplexity to public curiosity, or a solution of the mystery? Who could tell? Mrs. Nimblepenny, who kept a small family grocery on the remote corner ot the square was eye-witness of the sudden arrival. She had her theory of that honse and its belongings, and it was not a complimentary one. She sold store- candles to the old butler now and then, besides a small matter of cheese, pickles, and such things, and would freely have discounted ten percent npon their cost, if she could have drawn a satisfactory answer out of the provoking old fool. Bnt she had tried in vain. He simply said there was nothing to tell, and thought it disgraceful that people would not let quiet, civil folks, who paid their debts, and troubled no one —alone. Besides, he said, if there was a ory to tell, there were places, and there werf per sons, but a sixpenny grocery was not the place. Such were his answers, and the good storekeep er had great difficulty to repress her ange”. But she remembered that the butler never jf ed her down in the prices of her goods—never watched the scales to see if there was really “down weight” always paid promptly for what he purchased— and after all, it was none of her business. She would not lose a customer, unless there was a certainty of getting some information. But the time had come for revelation. She determined to close early that evening, and visit her friend, Mrs. Tattler. True, that estima ble lady, whose name expressed her disposition, had been making rather free with the aff iirs of Mrs. Nimblepenny of late. Sharp words were ex changed at ..heir last meeting, hut on greater occasions than this, breaches among friends had beec healed by the intervention of a com mon enemy, or an absorbing topic of scandal. The frowsy head of the Ii.tle cobbler was seen posted in profound meditation at the CHAPTER II.—Breakfast for Thref.. The calm which followed the storm in Oglethorpe revealed by no means the heavy losses which were at first expected. As to human life, only two persons had been killed outright. A score or more were bruised, and some seriously hurt, but after all, the casualties were comparatively few. The losses to property were very great, it is true, but in a fortnight there remained only here and there a memento of the tempest. The quiet order which prevailed at the old Tabby House, or Howard Hall, as we must henceforth call the place, was somewhat ruffled on the morning succeeding the storm. The lady who had arrived the night before, together with the fright daring that terrible evening, and the fatigue of a long journey, was advised to keep her room, and take her breakfast alone. But a short slumber of an hour oi two had re freshed her so much that she requested to be allowed the privilege of the family table. YVith some reluctance the request was granted, and after a hasty toilette, she entered the dining room. The poor man wasted his property in good living.” j “Then we should call him a sponge," replied ! Ellen. “Perhaps that would be a little harsh, Ellen. He is really a kind hearted gentleman, in his way, and serves his friends as best he can. He tells good stories of the old times, and has no enemies, for he has nothing that anybody wants. These particulars I have learned from Alfred, who purchased a suit of clothes for him by my direction, this morning, aDd he tells me that Major Barton (for that is his name) was quite overcome by my kindness.” “Indeed he was, Miss Mary,” said the butler, “and he made me promise to ask you if he might call upon you and return his thanks for your everlastin’ goodness to him.” “As to that, Alfred, there is no need of it, at all. I would have done the same for any other unfortunate man.” “But he says, Ma’am, if you please,” replied the butler, “that he has a special reason for ask ing the privilege.” “Well, well, it does not matter. If he comes, I will see him a few moments.” The sound of the brass knocker at this instant announced a visitor withont, and Major John Barton entered the Blue Parlor, the first time he had seen it in twenty years. “Pardon me, Miss Howard,” said he, as the graceful form ot the old lady appeared in the doorway, “I could not suffer this occasion to pass, Madam, without tendering you in person, the assurance of my lasting gratitude for your kindness this morning. An overruling Provi dence spared my life, most wonderfully, and next to God, I feel that I am indebted to you. ” “Pray, do not mention it, Major Barton,” she replied]! “I have done no more for you than I wonld have done for any other unfortunate per son in your situation.” “I have no question of that, Madam, nor does that fact lessen my obligation to yon. But I acknowledge that I have another purpose in seeking this interview.” He paused for a moment, as if in doubt wheth er he should proceed. Miss Howard seated her self, and looked rather dubiously at her visitor. “Proceed then, sir,” she replied; “I have no idea what yon mean.” “Perhaps not, Madam, and it may not seem to you to be a matter of any consequence. Bnt to me, it is a matter of the gravest importance. The fact is, Miss Howard, as yon may probably know, 1 have seen better days. I am now poor, hut thank God, I an* not quite friendless. Bnt to tell you the truth, I am exceedingly sensitive to ridicule, and if this affair should get to the ears of the public, I should be the jest of every company I meet. I really—” The poor old gentleman had snch a painful expression npon his face, and the evident earn estness of his manner contrasted so strongly with the ridiculousness of his situation that the lady was half in doubt whether to laugh or to cry. She had not lost, by seclusion from the world, the tenderness of a nature, which, what ever might he her real faults, could never mak« sport of the inisfortnnes of others. “I do not see,” she remarked, “how this un lucky adventure can be concealed.” “As to that, Madam, allow me to suggest. The transportation of my humble cot, literally a cot, Madam, from the opposite side of the street to your garden, by the agency of this terrible storm, I know can not be concealed. But, Mad am, it is not at all necessary that people shonld know that I was in the cot at the time of its rival at Howard Hall!”