Newspaper Page Text
JOHN H. SEALS, - Editor and Proprietor.
W. B. SEALS, - Proprietor and Cor. Editor.
MRS. MARY E. BRYAN (*) Associate Editor.
ATLANTA, GEORGIA, FEBRUARY 23, 1878.
Burton Bros., of Opelika, Ala., are Agents for
The Sunny South.
Geo. W. Norman Esq. is our general traveling
Agent in Kentucky and the North Western
States.
pgr The Sunny South is always discontin
ued at the expiration of the time paid for.
“WILD'WORK,”
By Mrs. Mary E. Bryan, will begin in
the next issue.
We met in our office a few days since Mr.
Blackmer, of North Carolina, who had come to
this city to purchase trees and plants from the
popular nursery of M. Cole & Co. He has here
tofore been going North for them.
The Weekly Budget, of New Orleans, contains
gorgeous engravings of the street parades and
grand tableaux to be presented at the approach
ing Mardi Gras in that city.
See Charleston letter to Araminta in Au
gusta on Cth page.
The Atlanta Constitution is an honor to Geor
gia. It has no superior in the South, as a
daily paper. Each morning’s issue is a remark
able specimen of editorial energy and ability,
and we most heartily commend it to any one
in the United States who wishes to have a pa
per from the capital of the Empire State of the
South.
The thrilling and handsomely written sketch
of the exploits of Capt. Fuller which appeared
in last week’s issue and which has attracted such
general notice throughout the entire country,
was prepared by Col. W. G. Whidby, who is so
well and favorably known to the Georgia press.
He is one of the readiest writers in the fraterni
ty, besides being one of the most efficient presi
dents the State Sunday School Convention has
ever had.
We fully endorse the following notice of our
distinguished contributor and indefatigable
worker which we have clipped from some one
of our exchanges:
Maj or Sidney Herbert, the well-known cor
respondent of the Savannah News, is one of the
most industrious and conscientious literary
men in the South. His writings are always in
tensely interesting and accurately instructive.
Besides the regular correspondence, over his
signature in the Morning News, and his splen
did reminiscences of the battles around Atlanta
in the Sunny South, he writes much editorial
matter for the daily and weekly papers.
Yesterday, Mr. Eason, of Columbus, was in
the city. While here he was instructed by the
Trinity Sunday-school to buy them a melodeon
for their use. He looked through the city, and
finally went into the house of Phillips & Crew,
on Marietta street. They filled his order at S35
less than the same instrument could be pur
chased for in Columbus, and when these gen
tlemen found out the purchase was made for a
Sunday-school, they donated the school ten dol
lars. These facts were learned from Mr. Eason,
and Messrs. Phillips & Crew know nothing of
this notice. We make it in behalf of a genuine
firm, and hope their generosity will be reward
ed by a liberal patronage. The Trinity Sunday-
school will appreciate their kindness.—Atlanta
Daily Tribune.
“THE LOST CHILD;”
OR,
“THE WOLF WOMAN.”
This Story, which we begin on the front
page, is one of the most intense
ly interesting that we
have published.
Don’t Stand at the Church Door.
Do youBg men never consider how impolite it
is to stand around the church entrance, before or
after service,and gaze like idiots at people going
in or coming out? The practice is a common
one, and should be abandoned.
Some time ago a New Orleans paper printed
the regulation paragraph about the nuisance of
people lounging around church doors, waiting
for the services to conclude that they may go
home with somebody or stare at the pretty girls.
It was just the kind of nuisance that country
papers for several hundred years have been com
plaining of, but it was hardly suspected that it
had spread to New Orleans and become of such
serious magnitude as to attract the serious at
tention of a daily newspaper. This is the case,
however. The paper had scarcely expressed its
opinion ^before there was a panic in the city.
Nothing has created so much excitement there
since General Butler marched in w ith his army
in 18G2. Old men and young men and men of
extensive business felt at once as if their feel
ings had been hurt by this direct personal at
tack, and they threatened to withdraw their ad
vertising patronage from the columns of the
bold, bad newspaper. In a day or two it made
the second attack on the same line,and hostilities
suddenly ceased. The fact seems to be that the
first families of New Orleans stand around the
church doors, and if there are any who don’t
like it they had better stay away from church;
the f. fs. have some rights which must be res
pected.
Are there no Jlysteries?
We do not pretend there are no mysteries.
We do not frown on the poetic splendors of the
fancy. There is a world of beauty and of p'a-
thos in the vast a>ther of the Unknown in which
this solid ball hangs like a speck. Let all who
list, who have true imagination and not mere
paltering with a loose fancy, let them indulge
their gift, and tell us what their soaring has un
folded. Only let us not waste life in crude
dreaming, or loosen the knees of action. For
life and conduct, and the great emotions which
react on life and conduct, we can place no
where but in the same sphere of knowledge,
under the same canons of proof, to which we
entrust all parts of our life. We will ask the
same philosophy which teaches us the lesson of
civilization, to guide our lives as responsible
men, and we go again to the same philosophy
which orders our lives, to explain to us the les
sons of death. We crave to have the supreme
hours of our existence lighted up by thoughts
and motives such as we can measure beside the
common acts of our daily existence, so that each
hour of our life up to the grave may be linked
to the life beyond the grave as one continuous
whole, “ bound each to each by natural piety.”
And so, wasting no sighs over the incommensu
rable possibilities of the fancy, we will march on
with a firm step till we knock at the Gates of
Death, bearing always the same human temper,
in the same reasonable beliefs, and with the
same earthly hopes of prolonged activity
amongst our fellows, with which we set out
gaily in the morning of life.—Frederic Harrison,
in the Nineteenth Century.
Queen Victoria’s Romance.
Ancient and Modern Heroes.
We take pleasure in calling attention to this
interesting article, as the similarity in the two
cases cited is most remarkable. And yet, after
the article was handed to us for publication,
Col. Avery showed us a letter from Dr. Carlisle
Terry, of Coiumbus, Ga., giving some important
additional facts in regard to the death of Gen.
Johnston, which add to the similarity above re
ferred to a halo of glory that dazzles the bright
example of the “antique” hero of Israel.
The Rev. Dr. Kellogg says King Ahab, “ in his
victory, was magnanimous (he having routed the
Syrian hosts), and the Syrians had it for a kind
of proverb that the rulers of Israel were “mer
ciful kings.” Dr. Terry writes that Gen. John
ston, while pursuing his routed foe, stopped to
minister to the relief of their wounded, remark
ing to his staff surgeon, “It nearly breaks my
heart to see men in that uniform suffering.
Doctor, stop and see if you can do anything for
these poor fellows.” He could not forget that
he had once commanded gallant “boys in blue.”
Dr. T. adds: “So you see, if I am correctly in
formed, Gen. J. fell a victim to his own human
ity to an enemy’s wounded soldiers.”
OLD TABBY HOUSE.
No one should fail to read this mag
nificent story. As before announced, its
author who writes under the assumed
name of Mclvor, is well known all over
the United States for his great learning
and present official position under the
• general government.
That sensational paragraph concerning the
Queen’s engagement to D israeli, which some
impertinent newspaper letterist originated, has
given rise to some comments which show how
greatly the people would be shocked and incens'
ed, should the model Queen ever profane the
memory of the loved and honored Albert by
another marriage. The truth and tenderness of
that union, so rare in Royal circles, still invest
the Queen with a halo of romance. The pretty
story of her betrothal to Prince Albert is remem
bered and re-told, running thus:
Certainly the young Queen thought less of
England than of marriage. The Ministers would
fain have made her marriage a sort of interna
tional treaty. Beyond all doubt, Victoria was
the finest match in the world. The Queen,
however, was full of a host of little projects,ever
shifting and changing, like the little heaps of
sand the children raise in the Garden of the
Luxembourg. She told her mother she would
wed with no one whom she did not love. The
Duchess of Kent reported the speech to the Min
isters, who thought it revolutionary in the ex
treme. Coronation day came, and next day the
ball at Windsor. Among the dancers was a tall,
handsome, slender student from the University
of Bonn—her cousin, a Cobourg, like herself.
The Queen noticed him, and Prince Albert did
not return to Bonn. Even had he not loved, he
would have stayed; and he loved. But his
cousin was the Queen ! Here the woman had to
make the advances. Victoria, deeply touched as
she was by ibis love (which was never more to
leave her), could not easily conquer the mai
denly timidity due to her severe education.
Nevertheless, a morning came. I assure you I
invent nothing. Although the Queen has not
consented to relate these delightful incidents,
Prince Albert has told them to his friends.
Nevertheless, then, a morning came. They
were riding together, she and he, down the great
avenue of oaks at Windsor. Those oaks were
younger then, but old enough already. After a
gallop they found themselves alone. We know
how dangerous it is for a man and woman to ride
together. Suddenly the Queen took a sprig of
honey-suckle from her bosom, and, stooping,
offered it to Prince Albert. Bending to reach it,
his lips touched the tips of his cousin’s gloves.
Perhaps ’twas the fault of the horses. The
woods of England and of France know well how
many loves the noble brutes have been the
cause ot. A silence followed, more sweet than
anything ever sung to the heart of Mozart.
Next morning Prince Albert still wore the
honey-suckle in his button-hole. He kept it
even when it had faded. A fortnight after that
ride, the Plenipotentiary Minister handed King
Leopold of Belgium a tiny letter, closed by an
enormous red seal, as though fit hid a mighty
secret of State. It began, “My Dear Uncle,”
and was signed “Victoria.” A month after, the
Queen mentioned her intention to marry Prince
Albert of Saxe-Cobourg-Gotha, to her Ministers.
She asked their counsel—but with a pretty air
of decision which caused them to reply with a
unanimous “Yes.” The wedding took place on
the 10th of February, 1840. The Queen of Eng
land had married for love—like a bourgeoise, I
was going to say, but the bourgeoises marry but
little for love now. Lord Melbourne was right
when he told England that “The Queen’s mar
riage was the Queen’s romance.”
A Beautiful Extract from the “Old Tabby
House.”
This grand story, which is now running in
this paper, from the pen of one of the most dis
tinguished men at the National Capital, is filled
with beautiful thoughts and mast striking sen
timents, of which the following is a specimen.
We have seen nothing more beautiful in all our
reading. It is an extract from this week’s in
stallment on the third page. Read it:
“ So long had these halls remained in silent
awe and undisturbed dreaminess, that music
seemed impossible in the Old Tabby House. But
a sweet, buoyant, restive young spirit was there,
that nothing but physical force could silence.
The tones of the piano came swelling up the
stairway, and jarred upon the door of Ethel’s
room. The sound filled her with electric power.
She dropped her book and stole softly to the
door. With her hand shading her eyes, she
cautiously crept onward to the head of the stairs,
and leaning upon the railing, she seemed to
drmk in every note as a cordial which exhilera-
ted and renewed her nature. Song after song
followed, and still Ethel remained at the head
of the stairs, and narrowly escaped the eye of
the venerable butler, whose nerves were as much
shocked, as hers were stimulated, by the musi
cal intrusion. But the butler only shook his
head and retired, as his younger mistress, Lucy,
recalled him to his duties.
“Tears, bright, beautiful tears coursed down
the wan cheeks of the invalid. The notes of
the piano were cutting the leaves of memory’s
book—long, long sealed up—and she was read
ing again her girlhood’s happy lessons. Fig
ures of the long ago came rounding into shape,
and sounds of merry_y-pices rang out in the
notes of music—faces of friends shaped them
selves into likenesses, and names long forgot
ten seemed spoken to the soul of the poor suf
ferer, as though she saw, and heard, and lived
over again the by-gone days and scenes. It was
not fancy, now, but memory, that brought back
the white locks on her father’s head, and the
deep furrows in her mother's cheek. It was not
imagination, but recollection, that peopled this
house with old-timed friends, until the dry-
laugh from Major Barton through the closed
door of the Blue Parlor seemed the echo from
a well-conceived toast drank by the gentlemen
in their wine-supper, and relished by a peal of
hearty laughter.
“ They were coming from all quarters. Faces
of young school-mates, glossy ringlets innocent
or curling tongs—lips of rosy youth dewy with
the grace and gentleness of innocent young
maidenhood—hands of shapely cunning weav
ing boquets to telegraph the language of young
hearts through the alphabet of flowers—eyes of
sparkling energy, blazing with frank and girlish
sentiment, coquetting with the fairy forms re
flected in the morning dew-drops. Feet of mod
est beauties twinkling like stars beneath the
snowy skirts not made fyr exhibition—necks of
rounded symmetry over which long flowing
locks lay hiding the alabaster tints from the too
glaring sunlight—and hearts beating high with
holy hopes, that form the poetry and glamour
of innocent young girlhood. They were com
ing, coming still, faster and faster. Drawn in
the chariot at that sweet music’s will—dancing
on the waves of merry roundelays, joys which
time can neither destroy nor restore. Flowers
of spring-time, breathing sweet perfumes, re
viving mystic covenants between earnest souls,
vows of eternal fealty, broken but not forgot
ten. Grief that died on the bosom of a new
joy, and sorrows that were coffined only in a
surprise of pleasure. Halls where merry feet
chased time away, and the full heart sighed from
very exuberance of happiness. Autumn strolls
in woods embrowned by the ardent sun of sum
mer, printing his burning kiss into the cheek
of nature, and leaving her face sallow and care
worn by the excess of his consuming love.
Winter evenings of song and story, with their
tales of fairy land, and long, but well-rewarded
trials of prince and urincess whose meridian
sun at last broao frov^he clouds of adverse
fortune, and sent the glowing beams of deserv
ed prosperity to gladden and inspire the world
of childhood. (
“Still they were coming faster,thronging upon
each other’s steps. The first kindling blush
startling the young blood to cheek and brow, at
the first spoken compliment from lips that fan
cy painted with the eloquence of inspiration.
The first glance of awakened interest which con
veys meaning higher, deeper, broader than the
realm of language. Words that carried proph
ecies of grander mission than the fate of em
pires, or the fall of kings and coronets. Dreams
that fancy wove into garlands, and crowned the
fair young brow with the wreathes of priceless
victories. Hopes that painted the horizon of
the future with golden images of beauty, and
raised ethereal palaces of pleasures unalloyed.
“And Ethel was standing at the head of the
stairway,looking,bnt seeing only the faces,forms
and shadows of the past—hearing, but only the
voices that had been hushed in weary silence
those long, long years—a lifetime of bitter pain
and suffering. Her heart was beating with a
strange, unwonted thrill. Her eyes were pour
ing forth drops of tears that were renewing,
not exhausting, the stream of tenderness. She
was transported backward, into memory’s paths
again to find her long-lost self, and as the
music ceased, she felt the doors of the sealed
chamber in her heart opened once more to the
light of a new dav of consciousness and reason.”
Editorial Correspondence.
Madison, Georgia.
The Grand old Town.—Its Past and
Present Glot'y—Distinguished Citizens
—Lovely and Accomplished Ladies—
Female College—Handsome Residences
— Good Yankee Citizens—Ileyser and
his Fish-Ponds Ac., &c.
Be Social and Genial.
Why is it that some persons are more liked
than others ? Why is it that often those who are
the best, morally and religiously, are the least
popular? We answer, it is because they are not
genial and social. They have little to say, they
show no interest in others, they appear wrapped
up in themselves. Strangers say, “how cold
they are.” Children say, “I’m afraid of her.”
Women say, “he is too stern.” The conse
quence is that such persons rarely awaken the
affection that others, less worthy in many res
pects, seem to unconsciously create. We know
nuny very good people, who are aware of this
defect in themselves, atid would gladly correct
it if they could. But they are too old. Their
habits are formed, and they cannot alter them,
try as they may.
But you, reader, are young enough to take
warning, if you belong to the class of which we
are speaking. Put every body with whom you come
into contact, into a good humor, and yon will be
universally liked, and not only liked but loved.
Be affable to all, even to strangers and servants.
Be genial to those who are your intimates. Let
people see that you take a proper interest in
their success, and to do this, do not be bound
up in yourselves. After all, many very good
people are selfish; and coldness and reserve
often go with selfishness; persons who are really
indifferent to you are very apt to be unsocial.
If you begin to show an interest in others, you
will soon learn to take it. Friendship comes of
friendship. One of tho best plans to make
people like you, is to like them first, and honest
ly to show it.
But you should not only be social, you should
be genial also. Geniality is more than sociabil
ity, as sociability is more than mere politeness.
Notice what a difference comes over a dull party
when a really genial person, whether man or
woman arrives! The whole atmosphere, so to
speak, seems to change. Even the stupid
brighten up, for geniality is catching, and
sparkle and brightness in the talk succeeds to
silence and heaviness. It is not necessary to be
what is called “smart” to be genial. Some of
the most delightful people in the world have
only ordinary intellects; bnt they are genial,
they put everybody in a good-humor, and the
party that has been a bore becomes a pleasure.
What a treasure, too, geniality is in a house
hold I It is June sunshine instead of a north
east rain. Cultivate geniality, and cultivate it
while you are young.—Ex.
A visitor of twenty-five years ago to this then
wealthy and aristocratic old town, finds himself
to-day almost a strange? within her gates. In a
ramble of some hours through her streets, he
looked in vain for familiar faces and well re
membered land marks—but few are left. A fire
in 1853 swept away three sides of the public
square, the fourth side upon which stands the
old Cambell Hotel escaping but with considerable
energy, they were rebuilt only to be burned
again a few years later. And then death, too,
has done his work. A long,sad roll call we might
make of his victims slain embracing most of
the old, substantial citizens—some of whose
names are as familiar as household words, and
known as extendedly as the town itself. Some
who have had much to do with shaping the pol
itics and laws of the country,and who have illus
trated old Georgia in the forum and in the church.
Few towns have ever claimed such citizens as
T. J. Burney, Green Foster, Dr. Elijah Jones,
Judge Porter, Dr. Wingfield, Judge Wood, and
others that I might name. Upon whom have
their mantles fallen is the question that the visi
tor here involuntarily propounds to himself.
But while we might heave a sigh for the muta
bility of all things human, there is much com
fort in the thought that the world does net go
backward.
Though twice destroyed by fire, the town is
built again with substantial structures of mod
ern designs and conveniences. Bricks have
taken the places of wooden structures, and the
apperance of the business portion of the place
is much improved. The faces though new are of
intelligent and refined business men, and a man
might travel many a long day before he found
a more cultivated and high toned people. It
was our privilege to enjoy the hospitality of
Mrs. Sanders, a lady of wealth and culture.
After tea, a large portion of the citizens, embrac
ed in an organization known as a “Dime Club,”
met at the house to spend her evening. Seated
in a corner, I had ample and uninterrupted op
portunity to scrutinize and criticize everything
and everybody. As name after name was call
ed out, I realized what I had already suspected,
that most of the persons present were the chil
dren of my old friends of 25 years ago. As I
marked the culture and elegance of the assemb
lage I could but feel that they were worthy de
scendants of worthy sires. The evening was
spent in recitations and music, both vocal and
instrumental. Well selected pieces were finely
rendered by Sam A. Burney Esq. Col- McHenry
and Prof. Butler, the latter, a son of Col. D. E.
Butler. The music was good. A solo each from
Misses Laura Foster and Mary Pou could not have
been excelled. These young ladies are rare
specimens of female loveliness, and great favori
tes in Atlanta society. Mrs. McHenry, daughter
of Rev. George Y. Brown Prest. of the Georgia
Female College is a most accomplished musi
cian. She gave us ample evidence of her profi
ciency, both as a performer and vocalist. At
present, she is in charge of the music class in
the college which we learn is in a flourishing
condition
There are many handsome residences here,
and some beautiful flower gardens. We were
particularly pleased with the yard of Col. Pou,
which reminds one of the magnificent Ferrell
garden, of Lagrange, noted all over the United
States—Col. Thomasson is erecting one of the
handsomest dwellings in the towr, and perhaps,
in the state. I mention these things as eviden
ces of the thrift and culture of the people. Mor
gan county is one of the best farming counties
in middle Georgia, and has some of the best
farmers in it. A few years ago, about 150 fam
ilies, from the North, settled in this county,
and they have proved a valuable acquisition
to her population, as they are not only good
citizens, but most all of them good farmers.
Some of them were men of means, which they
have expended and are still spending in tho
improvement of their places. We heard of one,
who purchased a farm and a set of mills, in the
southern portion of the county, and as the rumor
goes, he has already spent seventy-five thou
sand dollars in improvements and' is still im
proving. These men use all the improved ma
chinery, and have given a great stimulus to the
farming interest in the county. I learn they
are republicans, but not so blinded by politics
and political prejudices, as not to know what
is for the best interest of the country. Hence
they all voted for Tilden and Hendricks.
One of them, Mr. Heyser, is clerk of the court,
and a most agreeable gentleman. As an evi
dence of the energy which characterizes the
northern people, as a class, let me mention
that this gentleman invited me to see his fish
ponds—I say ponds, for there are twelve of
them in a row, and upon a bit of ground, which
I remember was once an impenetrable marsh.
In digging out the ponds he found many springs
which furnish an abundance of clear water for
his ponds, and for a large swimming pond
near by. The twelve ponds are of various siz
es and depths. In one he has bream, in anoth
er perch, in a third California salmon, in a
fourth gold fish, in a fifth trout, and so on
through the whole catalogue of fresh water fish.
At the sides, he has small ponds for the young
The Westmoreland House on Marietta street,
in this city, is now in the hands of Mrs. Mary
Stokes, the sister of Miss Gay, who is so well
known in the State. The house is open for
boarders at reasonable rates, and is kept in ex
cellent style.
Miss Mary Anderson and her Troupe.
This young and brilliant Southern Star is ad.
ding new laurels to her crown all through the
South. Her triumphs in this city the past week
were complete in every particular. Her large and
intelligent audiences were perfectly enthused
from the time she first made her appearance upon
the stage to the close of each play. We had
supposed the character of Parthenia ill-suited to
her style and manner, but since seeing her in
that role, do not now imagine how there could
be much improvement on her rendition. As
Eradne, among the statues of her ancestors, and
clinging to the statue of her father, while she
addresses the licentious king, she is sublime.
We are all proud of Miss Anderson, and as a
Southern girl of most extraordinary dramatic
genius, W9 commend her to our Southern friends
in Montgomery, Mobile, New Orleans, Galves
ton, Dallas, Marshall, Shreveport and Little
Rock, all of which points she will soon visit.
She is splendidly supported by a select troupe
of fine actors.
We commend to the press and public her
courteous forerunner, Mr. Rogers.
Pique and Miss Fanny Davenport.
We regret to say that we were much disap
pointed in this society play, in which Miss Dav
enport has made such fame for herself. As a
drama, we do not regard it a success, and fear it
fell short of meeting the expectations of the im
mense audience which it and Miss Davenport’s
reputation drew to the Opera House on Friday
evening last. It is based upon the abduction of
little Charley Ross, and the emotional nature is
drawn upon heavily, but the scenes are too
much hacked and simple to produce the desired
effect. Miss Davenport with her earnest dig
nity and motherly tenderness, brings to it all the
interest, possibly, of which it is susceptible; bat
there is little field for dramatic effect. The
grand climacteric scene, in which the kidnap
pers themselves are kidnapped or captured, is
spoiled of its effect, we think, by the two fel
lows in the loft. For what purpose they are
placed there, we failed to comprehend, as they
manifested the utmost indifference and indulged
only in jest while witnessing the curdling and
heartless scenes transpiring juflt below them.
As the papers all have said, Miss Davenport’s
easy and natural grace of manner upon the
stage, and her fine physical development are ex
ceedingly attractive, but as an actress, we think
she fails to discover any very special power or
extraordinary genius. At all events, she falls
below the three distinguished lady artistes we
have recently had upon our Atlanta boards.
“THE GHOST OF THE MAL-
MAISOX ” will end in the next issue.
Lazy Men.
A correspondent of the Virginia Patron makes
the following sensible remarks and what he says
of Virginia applies with much force also to
Georgia and to lazy men everywhere:
How heartily the world despises a lazy man,
none but the industrious know—the afflicted
one, never has the slightest conception. Have
you ever thought of the fourth commandment?
it commands work, just as emphaticaly as it does
rest. A distinguished Virginian in a recent lec
ture brought this fact forcibly forward: he said
that this commandment commanded rest, but
that it also commanded woi-k. “ Six days shalt
thou labor and do all thy work.” God intend
ed there should be no drones in the human hive
to live off the labor of others. We are all will
ing to obey the resting part but few of us ever
think we are commanded to work daily. We
see drones to the right, drones to the left, and
in front of us.—Just think how Virginia could
be made to flourish, if these human parasites
could be made to work. Our Legislators had
better be discussing how to enforce the vagrant
act, than to be continually meddling with the
State debt. The debt demands “ a wise and
masterly inactivity, while the soil on the other
hand, is crying out for a wise and masterly
activity.—If the idle men in the old Common
wealth could be made to till her soil, the public
debt would dwindle into insignificence, and
Virginia would resume her place in the
Union. The well directed labor of the drones
would save the old State, “ for the future glory
and prosperity of Virginia depends more on
the character of those who shall draw salaries
from her treasury.” The men who are waiting
for someihing to turn up, and who are wearing
out the seats of their pants by not getting up
and making something turn up, are almost
without number. These are they who complain
most of hard times and want of money when
they are in a great measure responsible for the
stringencey of the times, becuase they are con
sumers and not producers. God has so consti
tuted man, that he is happest when employed,
then wake up you sluggards and human drones
Propositions for 1878.
„ take hold of the plow and turn up the soil; your
fish, so as to keep them out of danger, until they Creator never intended you to be idle. His will
can take care of themselves. By nets, he re- j is “that by the sweat of your brow you shall eat
moves them from one pond to another at will. j your bread - ”
By these same nets, he showed us many varie- !
ties of fish, at most any age and size. He in- j
formed us, that he sometimes takes out fish i
weighing seven pounds, and expects in a short j
time to supply the town with fresh fish every l
morning.
By the side of his ponds he has .straw-berries
and all kinds of fruit trees and vines, which are
very luxuriant. We wish the North would
send a similar delegation into every county in
this state. What Georgia needs to-day is sci
entific farmers, and a plenty of them.
I go hence to Washington.
W. B. S.
Simmons and Slocum’s Minstrels.
We are to have this splendid company with
us again on the 20th and 21st. It is generally
conceded, we believe, to be one of the very best
Minstrel troupes which has ever visited Atlanta.
And as this city is partial to the burnt cork fra
ternity, they will, of course, have a crowded
house. Let them have a rouser.
We commend to the public everywhere their
genial and gentlemanly agent, Mr. Parmelee.
Good fish, fresh shad, large and luscious oys
ters at Peers & Glynn’s, 83 Whitehall street. Go
and try them. Best in the market We know
from experience.
Now is the time to begin with the new
stories.
For a club of six at $2.50, we will
send a copy free for one year.
For §5, we will send two copies one
year.
For $3.50, we will send the Sunny
South and Ilovs and Girls of the
Sodtii one year.
Each subscriber now on the books can
have a year added to his time for $2.50
by renewing now and sending one other
subscriber at same price.
For a club of lour, at $2.50, we will
send a copy of any of the Standard poets
or any novel that may be desired.
For a club of six, we will send a hand
some photograph album.
For a club of twenty, we will send
$10 in gold. (All the names must be
sent at the same time when premiums
demanded.)