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great deal than the most downeastern of all the
downeasters; while his thoughts and ideas creep
along at a snail’s pace. All he seems to care for
is to live from hand to month; to get drunk,pro
vided he can do so without having to trudge too
far for his liquor; to shoot for beef; to attend
gander-pullingg; to vote at eleotions; to eat and
sleep. In physical appearance the poor white is
far from prepossessing. Lank, lean, angular
and bony, with darning red, or flaxen, or sandy,
or carrotv-colored hair, sallow oomplexion, awk
ward manners, and a natural stupidity or dull
ness of intellect that almost surpasses belief,
they present in the main a very pitable sight to
the truly benevolent, as well as a ludicrous one
to those who are mirthfully disposed. If any-
— . j the women are even more intolerable than
Bukton Bros., of Opelika, Ala., are Agents for i the men—owing chiefly to their ("sgusting habit
Thk Sunny South. j of snuff-dipping and pipe smoking. The usual
■ mode in practicing this vice is to procure a
1 straight wooden tooth-brush, chew one end of
JOIL1 H. 8SALS, • Kditor and Proprietor.
W. 8. »KAU>. • Proprietor and Cor. Kditor.
MRS. OAKY K. BRYAN (•) Associate Kditor.
ATLANTA, GEORGIA, MARCH 9, 1878.
Geo. W. Norman Esq. is onr general traveling
Agent in Kentucky and the North Western
States.
The StoNNT South is always discontin
ued at the expiration of the time paid for.
Science and the Soul-
How do you stand in regard to the great
scientific-theological questions of the day ? I
the brush until it becomes soft and pliant, then
dab the same while still wet with saliva into the
snufl-bottle, and proceed to mop the gums and
teeth, to sack and chew and spit to their heart’s
oontent, Being usually addicted to this filthy
vice, it is not at all Btrange that the female poor
whites should so soon loose all trace of beauty,
and at thirty become the oolor of yellow parch
ment, if not thin and pale from constant at
tacks of fever. Beside, they are qnite prolific,
and every honse is filled with its half-dozen of
dirty, squalling, white-headsd little brats.
Even if this is true, it is certainly bad taste
see yon take cognizance of them in your paper, , and worfte feeling to parade it in Northern jour .
but without defining yonr own position. For j nals> and fhe writer> whom we do not know in
myself, I confess I feel every day the old ground j eas t, might put his sprightly talents to bet-
ernmbling under my feet, and sometimes (but j ter Use
this is only in my darn hours) I lose hold of j Poor , It i8 not enough that she has
the only two wings that lift ns humans above : bad ^ 8 j t a tt j the gate of the Northern
the brutes, or the dead matter around ns the j Djy e g- for lo! these many years; but now the
belief in God and in the soul s immortality, I . do gs’ must come out—ungrateful puppies of
say to myself, “We die, this wonderful organ
ization of ours disintegrates, rots, goes to form
other combinations of matter—to nourish first
the plant, then the animal that feeds upon the
the plant, then, again, returns to the earth.
This unconscious material go-aronndconstitutes
all onr boasted “immortality.”—thttraet from
•t private '(Her.
Where do I stand friend ? Can one stand at all
Amid the current of ever-moving Thought?
Can one look round on what his eyes embrace
And say this is the whole, when every hour
The prospect changes, the horizon lifts,
New vistas open, from still higher heights
Or deeper depths, Science, that seems to gaze
With earnest eyes of trnth. beckons to us
And sends this thrilling whisper—lo we go
To search for God through all his visible works,
Upward, among the stars; down in the heart
Of earth and matter, connting, in onr quest,
Naught common or nnclean, slowly we work,
Reverent yet resolute, using all the light
That Reason gives or Nature yields to guide
Our hard endeavor. Never fear the light
For truth: give truth the broadest light;
Let the Soul search for its God; it is its right,—
The growing soul that is no more a babe
To tolerate swaddling clothes, although afar,
ho far, from the full growth it may attain.
Thus Science speaks, as holding by a cine—
Frail as a spider's web,—it gropes along
Down the dim labyrinth of effect and oause—
Trying to probe the mystery of being.
How dare we say that this is work in vain,
This search for troth, whose patient earnestness
Has not a shadow of blasphemous aim,
Or mookiug intent? I would not so dare
Instead, I’d nther see by this new torch
The shadow of God thrown broader on the soul
His power and purpose greatened, and His work
Shown one vast whole, consistent in each part,
Evolved by laws as changeless as himself;
The soul shown grander, more akin to God,
Sinoe daring to feel out for him, to shape
A knowledge of him from his handiwork.
Only the false will vanish. When this light
Is flung down the dim corridors of the past
Upon the shrined traditions of onr faith
Only those formed of error's mist shall melt
Like the wax wings of Icarus; the true
Shall stand more fair.
What if the fire-brand Hell,
That we have waved to scare the beast of Bin,
Be proved a threat whose usefulness goes by
As knowledge broadens, and sin's sequences
Are seen so plainly here—the sure, long train
Of inexorable revenges broken law
Takes even here. What if Tradition’s view
Of the Creation —rounded in six days—
And Eden’s story should be proved a myth
Or truth disguised in figures, needing now
Broader interpretation as Thought grows!
These are not the real anchors of onr faith.
Creeds nourish truth, they are not truth itself;
They are the fruit that hold the seed of truth,
The fruit, when overripe, drops from the stalk,
The seed it nourished, dies not, but strikes root,
Breaks ground and bears a new and fairer fruit.
God, Immortality—these two are truth;
Not stamped upon the sonl, but part of it;
We feel that this Soul that thrills within onr
brain,
That dares conceive of God and search for Him,
Is part of Him, and deathless; shall ontlive
Th e change that we call death—and still shall
watch
With widening sight the play of Life and change
Go on upon the Earth—till the last scene,
When Death’s black curtain slowly drops upon
An aged, worn-out World; when the Waves fling
Their foam-crowns on the silent strand and melt
Away forever; when the hills shake off
The withering garlands from their hoary brows
And lift their bald and serried fronts above
A soundless, lifeless plain.
Aye, when the Earth
Rolls a dead, blaokened orb through space, the
soul
Outliving it, shall watch its fate and read
The problem of its being; Eons shall unfold
The mysteries of the Universe, leaf by leaf,
To the expanding sonl—the bud of Time,
The glorious blossom of eternity.
Mabt E. Betas.
| her own raising—not to mercifully ‘lick her
i sores,’but to lift the rags of her poverty and
| disclose said sores for the amnsement of Dives
: and his friends. *
Don’t Grow Old.
What; wonld yon have one fight against old
age with bottles of hair dye, Bloom of Youth,
and Folet’s Enamel ? Not so. Old age laughs
at such flimsy barricades, but he finds it harder
| to break down the breastworks of a cheerful,
: make-the-best-of-it spirit, a sympathy with
i youth and youthful pursuits. These are the
, true youth-elixir—these keep the brow smooth
; and the lip red, as the secret, nnder-gronnd
spring keeps ths flower above it blooming, that
. wonld else be parched and withered.
! ‘ Few understand the art of growing old grace-
; fully,’ says Roehefoncault, the wise. It is true,
j Some take old age as a bitter draught and make
| a face at it, that hardens into the ugliest of
wrinkles; others coquet with the enemy—mas-
> querade with him in white mnslins and bare-
necks, in paints, frizzes and wigs, ‘frisking be-
i neath the burden of foar score.’ There is a
happy mean between these extremes. There is
j an old age that is eminently graceful. Cheerful,
without friskness; dignified, without austerity;
i softened and mellowed, not hardened by life's
j trials—an old age that the years have dowered
! with sweet charity and patient wisdom; that has
i learned to put self and selfish sorrows aside,
ana to rejoice and sympathize wiKi the iove and'
ambitions and aspirations of youth.
A Model Husband.
Poor Lazarus! The South as Showa up by
Southern Correspondents to Northern
Papers.
A number of the family of Scribeleri.that have
spouted up so plentifully in the South since the
war, have undertaken “for a pecuniary consid
eration”—to show np their country in the pages
of certain Northern papers—not in respect to
its resources, and future possibilities, but as to
its poverty, ighorance, short-comings and
naughtiness, present and past, real and invented.
One of these, writing from Carolina, holds up
to ridicule the “poor whites” of his section, es
pecially the unlucky dwellers upon the heights,
describing them as living in mud-daubed huts,
dtterly and irredeemably worthless, lazy, filthy
and disgusting—a perfect scare-crow to all de
cent emigration. But here is an extraot, from
the column and a half sketch in the Philadel
phia Times, which will serve as a specimen:
The chief characteristic, the crowning emblem
of the poor white, however, is laziness. He is
the laziest two-legged animal that walks erect on
the face of the earth. Even his motions are
and his speech a sickening drawl, worse a
When the Patent Office was destroyed by fire,
; many valuable models were lost that can never
be replaced, and one heartless wretch has been
I rejoicing that the ‘model husband’ was among
j the number. But, fortunately, some losses can
j be remedied, and this poor fellow will find he
j sung his song of triumph too soon. Why, any
woman can tell what a husband ought to be
(and many a one what he really is, which is
quite a different thing); but as a considerable
time has elapsed, and no one seems disposed to
repair the great loss, and as I like to do all the
good I can, I will submit my model to the pub
lic. Although it may fall far below the lost
model, yet I am confident it will be an improve
ment on many of the specimens 1 often see.
In the first place, my pattern husband must
have patience, notwithstanding it is a popular
article of faith, and generally accepted by wo
mankind, that this virtue is entirely foreign to
man’s natnre, and therefore he is not expected
to possess it. Consequently he is allowed to
‘bang doom' and knock chairs over ad libitnm.
Secondly, he must ooncede that his wife can be,
and is, as economical as himself, and not dole
out a pittance (like drawing eye-teeth) for
household expenses, with the remark that he
‘hopes she will not be extravagant,’ but give
cheerfully and kindly. Thirdly, it must be his
firm belief that his wife can cook better than
anybody, (his mother not excepted) for that is a
very weak point with most of men, and particu
lar attention is directed to ‘thirdly.’ Fourthly,
he must not leave off politeness, as he does his
overcoat, but greet the ‘home folks’ as pleasant
ly as he does his friends and acquaintances
‘down town;’ not leave all the sunshine, bat
bring home a few rays to brighten the tired and
care-word wife’s face. Fifthly, he never ‘treats,
or is treated,’ consequently the ‘weesma’ hours'
never find the poor wife awaiting with a sad
heart his uncertain footsteps. Sixthly, he must
be industrious, that he may be good tempered;
for lazy folks are always cross when they have to
work, and always in the way, too. Seventh and
last, he must appreciate his wife, that others
may appreciate her, and that she may not lose
her own respect, but will ever strive to cultivate
mind and heart to make a happy home for him.
For you know ‘women are so vain’ of their ef
forts to please. If they are unnoticed they sim
ply tire of trying, and fold their hands in the
contentment of despair.
Well, here is my model, not very complete,
but I fear to require too much, lest, seeing they
are so deficient, instead of keeping the pattern
in view they make it the ‘skeleton in the closet.
Betsy Tbotwood.
Two Enemies to Good Government.
Popular political degredation is ever associa
ted with ignorance and dirt on the one hand,
and with the fashionable boarding-school var
nish and the cramming of aimless accomplish
ments on the other.
Liberty is wrested from the former class be
cause they can be galled and know not how to
defend themselves; from the latter, because they
have not the manly stamina to resist encroach
ment, or because feathers, gold lace and crowns
are such stylish, pretty things.
The ignorance of an impoverished multitude
and the ignorance of merely fashionable training
are twins—Gog and Magog—the enemies of the
Republic!
Pen Droppings.
BY Xi. la. V.
A Belle of the Black Hills—Heri We are glad to welcome Mrs. Gregory home
TVaffic End. i 40 Atlanta after an absenc ® of 36veraI months *
. j She has been in Philadelphia pursuing her art
The prettiest woman that ever was in Deadwood j studies with characteristic earnestness. Her
was Kitty Leroy—the famous keeper of the gambl- j recent pictures, in oils, water-colors, and the
ing den called the Mint. Every man would call j lovely German crayon, evidence the adxni-
Kitty a real beauty-eyes like stars. I hick, curly j rable progTeB8 9heha8 made in firmness of out-
brown hair, red ltps, light trim figure, and the ! ,. . _ *„«„*_ OIt j
daintiest little foot that ever danced a hornpipe. | * 1De and hdelity of coloring. Her
Kitty had five husbands, seven revolvers, a dozen j energy met with deserved appreciation and won
It has been earnestly said that the noblest vir
tues which men practice are called into exercise
by corresponding vices of others. If no one were
improvident there would be little room for benev
olence; if none were rash .and tyrannical there
would be few opportunities of showing patience j bowie-knives, and always went armed to the teeth, I her friends among the best artiste in New York
a ” H Wifely devotion is most sig-. W hich latter were like pearls set in coral. She i Philadelphia. Among others, the eelebra-
was a terrific gambler, and wore in her ears im- i , , . . . ... ......
mense diamonds, which shone almost like her own I J** 1 painter > Church, paid her the kindest atten-
glorious eyes, and seemed to sparkle only to show j tl0DH -
their inferiority. Kitty was a torn-down coquette j Mrs. Gregory has been invited to become a
from her orndle,*ftnd where that was rocked heaven ! member of a sooiety of artists in New York 1
only knows, unless her own story was true, that,
a baby she drifted on the ocean beach tied to a
fragment of the creek of a nameless ship, a Malay
pirate, sunk in combat.
The magnetism about her marvelous beauty was
and forbearance,
nally shown by women who have worthless hus
bands, and some of the finest specimens of good
husbands are to be found in those whs have been
unfortunate in their selection.
Mr. Buekle claims that only certain races, and
these only under favoring circumstances are ca
pable of civilization. We cannot prove this theo
ry false; but if it be true, much time and labor is
vainly spent by the civilized portion of the world.
Fruitless will be the thousands spent in mission
ary enterprises if they, to whom the Gospel is
borne, can never attain a sufficient degree of men
tal culture to apprehend its sublime teachings.
Vainly may we expect the Hindoo, the South Sea
Islander and the African to become laborers with
the European in the great work of human pro
gress. All these will etraF. lapse back when the
external aid has been removed, or more probably,
will like noxious animals, i slowly though surely
disappear before the march of the white man’s
civilization.
The story o r Parrhasius watching the agony of
a wretch dying under torture that he might de
lineate his expression upon canvas, fills the mind
with horror and disgust. How infinitely more
painful is it to hear of a woman who subjected the
moral nature of a gifted young man to ordeals in
volving his ruin, that she might enhauce her lit
erary reputation by a portrayal of the struggle.
Such an act of cold-blooded selfishness and ambi
tion seems to have been performed by the won
derfully endowed and stupendously wicked George
Sand, towards Alfred DeMusset. Nothing more
painfully marvellous is to be fouud in all the
range of literary history.
The psalmist, as he looked out upon the siar-
strewn sky, was tilled with wonder that the arch
itect who planned and executed this vast frame
work should eare for an item of Ilia creation so
insignificant as man. How greatly would his
wonder have been intensified could he have known
what the glass and calculus have revealed and
made almost assured certainties to the men of this
day. The universe of which David spoke was
but a mere speck compared with the systems of
worlds which the modern astronomer recognize-
as lying within the flaming walls of the Empyreans
Faith, not knowledge, muBt grasp the conception
of a Being who can direot things so vast, and at
the same time care for the tiniest insect that floats
in the air.
Ingratitude, while the meanest of vices, is one
which most deeply wounds. Nothing pains us so
deeply as to be treated unkindly by one upon
whom we have bestowed affection and kindness.
The man who perished by the venom of the viper
which he had warmed baek to life most have suf
fered more mental anguish than if he had died by
the sword of an avowed enemy. Nothing ia all
the range of fietion is more touching than that
picture of poor old Lear, when driven forth by his
ungrateful daughters, boring his head to the rag
ing storm, and pronouncing it less cruel than the
offspring whom he had cherished with his love
and endowed with his wealth.
A Bos»np mio—4UI Ajb^vjet bao;
suppose—has written c jStmpMet about “ the Ne
gro as he is,” in which he informs the citizens of
the Hub and all the world who may choose to read
his production, that darkies after the unole Tom
and George Harris pattern are not the prevailing
fashion down South. lie is quite right, but too
late. The error of which he would disabuse the
Nort hern mind has done its Sid work. The negro
has been mode a citizen—has in thousands of in
stances been converted from valuable laborer in
to a loafer and thief, from a Messing to the land
into its bitterest curse, and fir us, there is small
hope save in his emigration or extermination.
Had this Bostonian thrown in this antidote when
Mrs. Stowe was poisoning the fountain of publio
opinion, it might have avaled. Now it is too
late.
composed of some of the very best talent in the
country—an invitation highly gratifying, but
out of her power to accept, since she intends
pursuing her art labors, for a time, in this city,
such as to drive her lovers crazy; mere men had ! where she has a charming home and many
been killed about her than all the other women in i friends. She will furnish the Sunny South
the Hills put together. She was of all humors- j with 80me highly interesting sketches of new
soft and pleading, cold and imperious, gentle and I , „ . ? : ,
fierce by turns; the very queen of coquettes. She 1 worka ot " 4 she has 8een - and of ^‘“P 868 ^
could throw a bowie-knife straighter than any the 8tndl ° 8 of well-known artists. Her account
pistol bullet except her own, and married her | °f her fi»t visit to Church, and how she found
first, husband because he was the only man of all j the genial artist employed, is very entertaining.
her lovers who had the nerve to let her shoot an
apple off his head as she rode by him at full
speed.
On one occasion she disguised herself in male
attire to fight a man who had declined the combat
with a woman; he fell, and she then cried over
him and married him in time to be his widow.
Kitty Leroy was sometimes rich, sometimes poor;
but always lavish as a prince when she had money.
She dealt “vantoon” or “iaro,” and played all
games at cards with a dexterity that amounted to
genius. Her daring courage made her the envy
and admiration of the boldest scouts, and danger
seemed to inspire rather than daunt her.
Kitty’s end was a tragic one. She quarreled
with her favorite husband one day, and declared
it was no use to try, she could’nt. iive with him,
no how .’
It will appear next week.
Brignoli’s Italian Opera.
We are really delighted to know that this un
rivaled company will return and give another
entertainment in this eity, and no one who has
the least appreciation of fine singing shonld fail
to be present. We state without qualification
that a better musical treat was never before pre
sented to an Atlanta audienoe. The voice of
Brignoli is a pure tenor, soft and sweet, and he
manages it with fine effect But the only perfect
voice we have ever heard is that of Signor G.
Tagliapietra, the eminent baritone. In power,
volume, scope, and register it is absolutely per-
“Curse you, Kitty,” said her hot-tempered lord, and holds an auditor spell-bound. Mile,
then die with me.’ ’ And shot her and then him-1 Elisa Galimberti,the distinguished prims donna,
It is hardly necessary to say that his re- j has a pure and rich soprano, whioh is in perfect
cultivation, and with her handsome figure and
exceedingly graceful movements, she is a charm
ing queen of the stage. Signor Susini has a
grand bass.
Let Atlanta show its appreciation of genuine
self.
mark was considered pur: gent. repartee by the elite
of the HilLs
Familiar Quotations.
Edward Yonng—‘The man that blushes is not
quite a brute.’ j artistes by giving this splendid troupe a rousing
‘ Prayer ardent opens heaven.’ : hou86 on next Tue8day night the 5th> Signor
‘A man of pleasure is a man ot pains.’ t „ . 8 ’ ^
‘ Final ruin fiercely drives her plow shares I Bn S noh18 a polished and appreciative gentl<r
o’er creation.’ j man, and we all appreciate his cleverness in
‘The course of nature is the art of God.’ ; consenting to return at the request of our peo-
‘ The love of praise, however concealed by art, j pi e .
Reigns more or less, and glows in every heart. ’
‘ Some for renown, on scraps of learning dote, • .
And think they grow immortal as they quote.’; ° Ame Can ( ousms.
‘ None think the great nnhappy, but the great. ’ i entire clt Y 18 811 ‘‘gog about Sothern, who
* X fnnl of fVxrfu ia a IVvnl *
A fool at forty, is a fool indeed
‘Moments make the year, and trifles life.’
‘One to destroy, is murder by the law.’
* War’s glorious art, gives immortal fame. ’
‘ And hold their farthing candle to the sun.’
‘ And oftener changed their principles than
shirt.’
‘Time elaborately thrown away.’
‘ In records that defy the tooth of time.’
‘Great let me call him, for he oonquered me.’ i House to-night, March 2d, will be tested, no
Wm. Wordsworth ‘Breathless with adora- 1 doubt, to its fullest capacity. Secure
tion. | .. , . J
I ticket.
brings his side-splitting “American Cousins” to
Atlanta for the first time. From all aocouats
he mast be immense in this carieatare comedy.
It is difficult to find a building that will hold
the crowds that gather everywhere to hear him.
In New York City, he performed 18 oonseentive
weeks before packed houses; and onr Opera
your
jucfc-?a d inn outworn.
ty heart is lying still.
In the life of every man of &e sensibilities there
is a period—most generally a short one—daring
which a friendship like that of/onathan for David,
is a possibility. It is when he youth has just
passed into manhood, while n> base feeling of en
vy and selfishness is allowed t interfere with the
flow of the affections. Later, jealousies and the
conflict of interest forbid anytiing like a generous
love of man for man. Men beome more calculat
ing as they grow older, and evn the homage offer
ed to woman by one who has massed the glow of
early manhood is apt to be inch mingled with
thoughts of her money.
Wedding of an Anstian Countess.
A P=>g<»i* auce-'ed
And all that mightj
Soft is the music that would oharm forever.
The flower of sweetest smell is shy and lovely.
Frozen by distance.
The music in my heart I bore,
Long after it was heard no more.
They shonld take who had the power.
And they should keep who can.
A remnant of uneasy light
That which once was great is passed away.
Plain living and high thinking are no more.
Thy soul was like a star, and dwelt apart.
So didst thou travel on life’s oommon way.
Every gift of noble origin,
Is breathed upon by Hope’s perpetual breath.
A few strong instincts, and a few plain rales.
The common dust of survile opportunity—
to gold.’ J
Geo. Colman, Jr—‘Thank yon, sir, I owe you
one.
When taken, to be well shaken. ’
Jas. Hurdis—‘Rise with the lark, and with the
lark to bed.’
David Everett—* You’d scarce expect one of
my age, etc.
Madame Rowland—* Oh, liberty! liberty !
how many crimes are committed in thy name. ’
Bertrand Bavere—‘The tree of liberty only
grows when watered by the blood of tyrants.'
Joseph Fouohe—‘ It is more than a crime, it is
a political fault’
Talleyrand —‘It is worse than a crime, it is a
blunder.’
The Rossini Association
The Jarge audience, whioh greeted this popu
lar association of our amateurs, on Monday eve
ning last, were most agreeably surprised at
their remarkable success in opera. The beau
tiful and ever popular II Tromlor* was given us
with all the effect that a professional troupe
could have given it, and Miss Kennedy in the
trying role of Leonora, and Maj. Courtney with
his rich and deep baritone voice, really distin
guished themselves. The same may be said of
Miss Fisher, Mrs. Peel, and Mr. Goidtsnoven.
No one, we think, was prepared for snob profi
ciency in amateurs, and the general demand is
for a repetition. Let ns have it.
Don t fail to read the excellent sketch of
Bishop Marvin on the opposite page. It is
written in Dr, Scott’s best style, and he is one
of the roost finished and classioal writers we
have in the South.
The marriage of the beautiil Countess Wilhel-
mine, daughter of Prince Kinty von Weynic and
Tettan to Franz Josef Prince jersperg, forms the
subject of a letter to the Horn Journal. The part
of the wedding most interring to ladies—the
dress of the bride and her aendants, is thus par
ticularized :
‘■Prince Auersperg owns rge estates in Bohe
mia, so that much of the modn lace found in the
trousseau ot his bride had beeordered by her from
the Erzgebirge, where the oor people make the
most delieate laces, and ib months they have
worked this fairy-like fakz for their future
Princess. I am sure thaGjly put a prayer and a
blessing, for her bounty m ery mesh.
The bridal dress of whi satin, was trimmed
with this lace, woven amon ruchings of myrtle
sprays and orange buds. Beath her veil, worn
a la zuive, and fastened witk large diamond star,
the bride wore her diamol coronet, combined
with a delicate wreath of m.tle and orange. Her
dress was made high, and aund her neck from a
superb diamond collar hung riviere of diamonds.
Her ear-rings were very rge and long; they
flashed like sunbeams.
The bridemaids were Picess Auesperg, two
Countesses Kinsky, and Unless Thun. Their
dresses were of light blue si and white lace. The
groomsmen were Prinoe Asrsperg and Count
Kinsky, brothers of the bri( and groom. Here,
the groomsmen are called aut/ahrer, and their
duty is to lead the bride (the altar, where the
groom awaits her
The train of the bride’s ress was carried by
her brother, the youngest tint Kinsky, and the
little fellow held her bouqmduring the ceremo
ny. The bridemaids foliod the bride and were
grouped near her.”
We have been pleased to meet in onr sanotnm,
the Hon. W. S. Williams, from Napanee, Canada,
who is a great temperance man. He is en route
for Florida.
We are pleased to hear, fongh a friend, of
the great prosperity ofollege Temple, at
Newnan, Georgia. Presidt Kellogg is an ad
mirable manager, a though master of the
difficult art of robbing sti ’ of those features
of drndgery whioh make ij> repulsive to the
yonng mind. In impartiii practical, as well
aa a finished eduoaiion, has few equals.
A Stormy March Day.
It was a half-drizzling, hall-stormy day last
week—just such a day as puts nervous people in a
bad humor with themselves aud everybody else.
Job Dodge sat brooding over the fire immediately
after breakfast. His wife addressed him as fol
lows :
“Job, can’t you mend that front door latch to
day?” “No,” was the answer.
“Well, can’t you mend the handle of the water-
pail?” “No.”
“Well, can't you put a new handle to the mop ?”
-Ho.” “Well, can’t you put up some pegs for the
clothes, in our chamber?” “No.”
“Well, can’t you fix that north window, so that
the rain and snow won’t drive in ?” “No! no !
no 1” answered her husband, sharply.
He then took his hat, and was on the point of
leaving the house, when his wife, knowing that he
was going to “B’s Saloon,” where he would meet
some of his tippling companions, asked him kindly
to stop a moment. She then got her bonnet and
shawl, and said to her husband:
“You are going to the drinking saloon, with
your leave, I will go with you.” The husband
stared. “Yes,” said the wife, “I may as well go
as you, if you go and waste the day, and tipple at
the ealoon, why should I not do just the same?”
Job felt the reproof. He shut the door; hung
up his hat; got the hammer and nails; did all his
wife had requested, and sat down by his fire at
night, a better and happier man.
Cultivate oheerfalness. Laugh and grow fat.
If yon can’t grow fat with laughing, laugh any
how. It won’t hurt yon. ’Tis a superior tonic.
If yon have a sore throat, or a boil on yonr lips,
or bad teeth, and can’t laugh, smile; smile with
your eyes; gesticulate or gyrate in token of the
joy that is in yon. Bat don’t look gram, what
ever you do. Don’t snarl, nor grin sardonically,
nor sneer sarcastically, nor packer your lips into
an indifferent whistle, nor snap yonr finger at
the world as if in defianoe of the fan that is a
part of its life. Be sociable. Treat everybody
—with kindness. Shake hands with yonr enemy,
and let him know yon are not prejndiced. That’s
the way to take the prose out of life, and make
the world comfortable. If everybody only grin
ned with jollity, and nobody snarled with envy,
the earth would be a heaven yon would never
eare about leaving for a better.
Smart Boy.
‘ Well, sonny, whose pigs are thoee,?’ •
• Old sow’s, sir!’
4 Whose sow is it ?’
‘Oldman’s, sir.’
4 Well, then, who is your old man ?’
‘ If you’ll mind the pigs, I’ll run home and
ask the old woman.’
‘Never mind, sonny, I want a smart boy
what can yon do ?’ J ’
Oh! I can do more than considerable. I
milk the geese, ride the turkeys to water, ham
string the grasshoppers, light fires for flies to
court by, cut the buttons off dad’s coat when he
is at prayers, keep tally tor dad and ’mam when
they scold at a mark—old woman is always
ahead.’
4 Got any brothers ?’
4 Lots of ’em, all named Bill, exoept Bob, his
name’s Sam—my name’s Larry, bat they call
me Lazy Lawrenze, for shortness.’
* Well, you’re most too smart for me. ’
‘Travel on, old stick in the mud, I shan’t
hire yon for a boss to-day. ’
Propositions for 1878.
Now ia 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 Boys and Girls of the
Sooth 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 four, 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.
ForaolubrfsUton.we will send a
Websters Unabridged Dictionary.
•in” a s C . lub ,? f „ twei »ty, we will send
$10 in gold. (All the names most be
sent at the same time when premiums
demanded.)