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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.)