THE FlOWfctfS COLLECTION
J. H. & W. B. SEALS, / SprStorS.
t *3 PER ANNUM
ATLANTA, GA„ SA'AY, APRIL, 20, 1878. TEEMS,! m *»»»»
ONLY ONE HOI K.
The day .with all its toil and care and sorrow.
|I„ U , ,, J 1 um'ana sorr
And now 1/ d, ' ep fo °*"Prints in my heart and brain,
Tour™ Z. f COrm '-^ Mn thc ‘ drear to-morrow
I wm B , me f" rw * rd ln my path of pain.
1 A n!) h! 8 . CC from klnd memory borrow.
And lne one hour with liope and Joy again.
is like the mystic Cerens flower.
And i !,S "hen the midnight dews distill
Oneni b ul J? r . eam "i * omt: enchanted bower,
Win. h . , pa , Ie . cu !‘ ">r the moon to till
P r° ft dr’PPiUffs of the silvery shower
cd irom her pearly horn on plain and hill.
K 1fno™ y dro °P my brow, pale and thonght-weary
'mrh iwpiVntss 1, b^vTsionwy’® Md thce -
left to me,
tie ail of joy that now is
And J m.v breathe, when 'neath these shadows fc n( . 0 i.
Like hooded nuns through the deep silence there
It may be, that on this lone hour ai
< and flow;
' s a cool wayside shrine, with mfl-
7 « , "tense's delicate p,
ls, nl the traveler, weary
worn and .jaded
That kneels to pray within its tranm'iT
On<* Kwonf i....... „ .
'n!/ n . l! * l *V 8 2 ne swect hour, so nearh" faderT
This lonely flower, thrown on A.emorj.“ B tomb.
T A 0 b^ss n dr t ernro 0 ns°eeD ? s n,C8 'l ' tWiI j Pewn ;l vision
Vet'twill have bath^ f° U ta f<v ' once more.
THE DANGEROUS MAN;
AH ill VY O-Uix—. 1-
very white -pee-wee cretnr.’a^ ^nobody ^er
went to see her, nor solitary, so lonely in
'“ T l e 1"! i” .TErUij lot,* u»., to .
man in impatient soapenae, mort P“ l «
he belongs to the dainy . j bo jived
ened to tie voice of flattery and^
with that weakening of the c
U almost the me.UUU.
q m.t,thongh«n ; dn> J-
ith life and its cares.
m..d sank oswa before her on his knees his armsestended with a passionate gesture.”
in th .
•'hoid duties as Bimpiy™Tt£
1 things in creation had
tangled in her make
dartnerts and a /<t(
Complete in two lumbers.
up: at r'tthe mvstdrips of
UIN' kPSftrm r.1.,1 ti,.- (.1
,ig “m‘“ “nTaaid that personal beauty, more ; « o, n»
i •*'«-“» - • •* •- - • 1 feel “
produc 10 private chronicles
er- i van merer. v ku.u~, * j, -
l t«li- i sol-erest moments, that we to
"tde- • powers or attractions have been given, will have
were yet fortunate: f -~*#-x n‘*= of . perhaps, ft heavy responsibility,
not been caught a™ 1 f OK ' a . tho 8tftte of-whose the It is perfectly clear to me now it all happened.
— ~ - K ana been improved by three wi^ntet- ' 8 Unfortunately, on going out yesterday morning,
l, [he Sb’verv .i.n’ ; n .rdr.rk and I left lying on a table in my room, an open let-
-f ar down nl iuo#fod nard .y, in a dark ^ ^ ^ fro ^ yp yj. That letter was the d-eath war
rant of the most beautiful creature I ever saw.
Li— i «.nunnot stay lieiea day ionfun X™-*
whom c.n usual
i-np r«'ess*iay"a little lake % i»rn as biacK
w-as on sea or land. &ncl s
by b. a. b.
A WILD BLOWEB.
lS,ria ! cb»nd'»:.i I must .rest .be
summS1™ b» 1- «»
rounds of fe“hionable life. ‘My heart, my heart
Is over the sea,’-or at least so it was supposed
is, over me s , he t00 k his affectionate iare-
and sullen as a ^bottomless pit. The green moss
es of its bank end the trees that leaned pictu-
ere reflected but dimly m
In that damp and cool ro
daybreak, I leave,
every gloomy picture that ever was seen
Dunth bega^the mysterious confession which e arth, a “'^“ e ^' r wiiHamiTfolindTeasy tocaVry
life too full of
dav that Rachael
it that some of us are un
I would like to go to the uttermost parts of the
ended with her reign. . j
Rachel Dunth was perfect now—even in one ,
year there would be a depreciation—her radiant
beauty admitted of no change—
-O^c shade the morcycne ray the less^
Had half impaired the .Tameless grace.
But now her beauty was full, perfect, 1ns-
Ci Our hero began the protection of this girl with
iJ^ nhilosopbv. For many blissful days they
were seldom Separated. Three weeks alter hm
first letter Heny Nelson received a second Bom
The closing lines were as follows:
tree, very silent. ., _ . ,
‘I have often thought, said Rachael,
have told Kvtnigunde, who is r. great friend of
Kunigunde, the old Dutch crone, who had
lived in'the house as a sort of cook and house-
SVVwtoW, that if I .... to have a «.«*. ! keeper for more than thirty year., met him on
too great for me I would come here, and, and.
be done wirh it forever.’
‘What sorrow would be toe great for yon,
asked Arthur softly.’ ,, .
<jf i loved end were deserted, was the trm
answer. . „ , ,
Arthur locked into her beautiful eyes, and a
■ ' but with an
In a plain gold band on the , Jibing_ thought full of ^^ ^
i, would be, .hen be iook j iSSS VSwS!*^’K £ut JSt^ SST 8 "
-* Snnd | ^ -r^rtnifo-f I -Tio‘ntrtSfnThe Pit;, excitedly,, ^
thur Williams, I have wanted to tell you what—
She got no farther. A heavy plunge in the
„ ater on the ether side of the tarn, and a keart-
-ti, ui w ithdrawing more and more into 1 rea Aing shriek told them that Undon, the fos-
Isfif W?ha?ewSked g »nd talked, and ram- ! brother, was swallowed by the faithless
rBel '• --- 1.,.* TT^jr.n 1 W aters into which he had fallen from an over
arching bough. There was i moment of in
tense agony, and the boy’s haad was seen above
the water, but only to be lost again in a second.
Arthur and licchel stood paralyzed with fright,
little finger of bis
cold-lettered explanation of the text that
r, .■ hoc nir. drf
left hand was inscribed a j p a in. ltacheal Dunth loves me
4s ”“ t 1,ri,, “ 6 I SSjrthetiXnTgtnS; Shrinking and re- j „Ur”?nVide of theWn and a heart-
[ hied**together, with no company but Undon
her little foster brother, until it seems to me
that this life which at first was only a midsum
1 mer night’s dream, has become the sweetest sort
«“ “J i •- tof « Le ! ? ^Euhlfelder^thev^all him, I fimf often j bntbetorehe rose the thud time, quickly from
he certainly was, as to the requirement of ju. - hood, Lu . , - j or j n t h e hitch- t a c lnmp of trees sprang Euhltelder, and
Wonde and Mile. La MM, and even that high lounging about-on the h face> but ? h e r e“ himself in the black waters. One mo-
! tBzrszi ; rs: s M iff; s
hzs r - - ^ “ “ th0 *-
the stairs as he was departing.
-Stop,’ she said, like an avenging spirit.
what to Arthur seemed a wild look— while
‘This strange thing never w-as, and I can tell
you. Dunder and blitzen ! She told me to tell
you.’ Arthur turned pale with dread when she
clutched her bony lingers on his arm, but shak
ing her off, he strided past the horried old hag,
stopping her awful utterances, as he thought,
gied or is struggling ’‘“intment aad delay.
knows how to brook disapp Qear ber door
He thought of falha f. inte rview on the
accidentally, or requesting an in
supposition that she was a former^acqua ^
lor,finally, n everything none 0 f
! himself represented in y tion> when
these plans had been p dnced him more
’S^aiy^dS^if « had heenpro-
^Here^then^shfwas 1 be"o°re him-talking. with
him, weaving around him oh, "o ancons ^
—a fine gossamer web ^ pure as a
had just risen from the sea fo , qiiphanous
pearl in its shell H e r face wa^ bl(mde hair .
■ fairness, wreathed wit . & siml) i e white
I ,i \r;^Srtg; °y5"“!S” •»«»-r ‘
! visitor at the quiet iit^studio^ so d JJ®
life and its uecessities had pttMS. -
upon her that in her heart she thought God kau
forgotten to be merciful—that He had left the
shorn lamb to the untempered u inds. And jet
even with a shaken faith, we do not often hud
such characters as she. Coming do ^ n fro “ a
high position without a complaint or a murmur,
she had taken her place among the lowly toilers
doing her work patiently and well, wearing her
crosses with meekness and resignation.
It was very pleasant to Marion to have forma
such a friend as Arthur. He was so discerning
in criticism, and altogether so sprightly and
civil in his manners, with such a cordial admir
ation of her worK, that she felt both her mma
and heart helped by his presence andpidvice.
He was never in the way, and, I may add, sel
dom out of the way. Sometimes he grew- por-
tentiously thoughtful, and for several hours
would occupy her little sofa with a book in ms
hand, never uttering a syllable, but drawing a
sort of quiet inspiration from the busy little
minature painter sitting at her table in the far
ther end of the room, in a great Hood of light
,, , , , iii that made "her look like a saint with a halo. Af-
and here her old bleared eyes_ took, : ^ & of a tew we eks in the correspond-
^ 1 ence, Henry Nelson, the trusty and tried, had
received advices from his friend, which caused
him not a few qualms of uneasiness for the lit
tle artist, as he thought of her in the hands of,
and exposed to, the all-powerful attraction of a
Day after day the intimacy deepened. Marion
made no company of him, but would go
blade of grass has its ain drap of dew ’
I wish it was in my power to saj that he was
homely, but elegant and startlingly clever-it is
so nice to be original in drawing a nero 1 u
truth compels me as an honest cliomcler to
throw contempt on my preferences. Elegan ,
with’a. timely live dollar note. The verdict he j wor jt ) while he read or made timely
had passed on kimsell was bad enough, but to j „ est j ong or bent over her as she worked with
hear it from another, he felt was more than he j. iad ij n g ey es. Her beauty had on him the ef-
could bear. , , , . I f ec f 0 f the misty Indian summer, or of some
Settling his bill, he took a hasty leave of the . jj dreamy day when yon drift with
old farmer and his wife, but it was not until he | . e ° eg into t h e sweetest impossibilities,
had rode twenty miles in the cars, that he began j ..yyqy - ' don’t you leave your little faces, and
to breath freely. ■ your ivory;” he had said, “and take to your ea-
TT ; sel? You might go to Italy and lead a life at
LE1A1 tii.lv ii. , once poet j ca i an d congenial. Then you would
| be more truly appreciated, and your work more
I Shs shook her head. “I have no one to rely
The house was long, old and deserted looking,
a litde out from the seaside village. It suited
Arthur Williams in his present state of mind, i bu t myself, and without means and patron-
to be a little apart from the crowds that frequent | SUC R an undertaking is not to be thought
fashionable watering places so he chose this n althou „h l confess it has in other days haunt-
quaint little village, and further more the ramb- j ^ to real unrest .»
oui sue For one mouieui e. m. U m. gU v —, , ling loneiy oW house, whmh for several years had It w a8 on a day when Arthur was in one of his
ur first meet- j Vrthur found himself aloae with Rachel that | been sought out by a lew quiet persons of limit- tenderest m00 ds that she told her story. He
arill through ' • bt fj e bent very gently over her and took j ed means, and contemplative turn. 0 y h ad sworn fidelity to her as a friend, and had
s of pleasant I y® lllin d but she withdrew it hastily and left other tenant—they were not boarders occupied | o£tered 8erv i ce s in any and
first appearanoe-and last, for that matter,-at am I to dot
Samuel Dunth’s, as a summer boarder, m one
of the early days of Jane, in the year of Our
Ij< A < codfidential epistle to his warmest friend
HeDry Nelson, was dated the first night o. his
“Vuear Hal-Nine o’clock p. m. Here I am
onietlv installed, resting (three beats to a
^ eaB ure) in the quietest country farm house
outside of Holland. There is plenty of ozone,
flowers and fruits, a plain, solemn old couple,
and a girl as lovely as-well, I don t know what
perhaps I might say a fine horse or a peach tree
in full bloom. 1 have seen her twice, once
when she was gliding through the trees, un
conscious of me, and for a moment on the
porch. Her mother says she is only fifteen,
though she looks much older, so superbly is
she developed. If it was not so d—- stupid
writing, I would tell you exactly how she looks
but to me a pen is not much better to talk with
than a ruling whip. I look forward lor some
entertainment in her company but shall, believe
me. be very guarded and discreet, and shall no
suffer her little heart to be hurt. I am not a
knave or a scoundrel, as you can certify, Hal,
but I will admit to you, old boy, strictly under
the rose, that I consider myself a ilatujerous man,
and do not care to throw myself in the way of
every susceptible girl—and besides, you know,
1 wear a chain. .
•I shall get the papers regularly, and with
the help of your letters, may be able to stand
two or three months. ,
• Ever as ever, A. >V.
Thus, and so moderately he wrote, but the
truth of the case might have been expressed
sententiously. He had seen the girl twice, and
biB breath taken away each time.
For one moment of moonlight and silence,
ner to me is maidenly and modest but she can
not control the tell-tale eyes. At our first me
inu her beauty sent an electric thrill thron
mv’heart, and I thought a few days of pleasant I , ae ^ band, bat - f
Arcadhm life with such a being, could not harm him Then she was wtunded-sbe felt the
" But while I was dreaming, her heart | 8 ting of love unrequited He went to sleep
filiing with the untold fancies and hopes which tha t nig ht determined to talk calmly and dis-
pome g someti-nes to craze and sometimes to kill. pa8S i 0 nately to her on the morrow, and to say
Whnt am I to do? must I renounce all my plans goo d-bye forever.
and unweave the web of my life ? Maggie More- wa fc e d up on the norrow determined to
tin ii True Rood, aid tbe —- i „ tbixe with bar, hi. her it Deed b., ami
(or this eirl is perhaps not love, out simply at ^ow any other friendly’ attentions the situa-
... pity i» added for ‘h» P?“ i »7ght »eem to demaid.-bbt to po.tpODD the
oblld-beart. ^‘^.‘““j’^nfnot ^ncoum^^ex- ! disagreeable good-bye h a more eooveD.eDt
miriH nii luv course, j. _ u , _ _ 4 . ® j aeason !
uucicu ^ all ways, until it
the second floor with Arthur. '■ had become right hard to” find a new way of say-
At the expiration ot three^ days, which our | ^ tbe 8am0 thing over* In fact this man of the
mine on my
nurture hopes never destined to j ° ^ letter written at midiight to the faithful
, o nmrrmv and never see ner again, ant
the recollection of all this, even as it is, will cast j
i>p realized. My resolve is taken. I will j H enry Nelson, explains low he came to leave
be realizeu. a —^ ... her again.^ But | and m ^ re ^ruptli than he intended.
I have to record to-nght, one of the most
distressing circumstance of my life. I be-
I am one of the mist unfortunate men in
- . , . . The next aay , the world. When shall ibegin in the recital ?
are capable ol being o • d : Q *bis I was obliged to observe he folly of the girl, in
came and went, and many more followed in this | I wa absorbd in me, but I had no
Williams loiterea a I idea to what desperatioushe was reduced, until
llie X C vu.— ,
* S,r«°oS™ «e highly rt.peDt.ble and j
• Lrilw but experience proves phat they lieve
praiseworthy^ broken . The next day I the v
many more followed in
train, and yet Arthur
f “ r HP knew that he was, compared to the boors
He knew tnai tintod and odor-
° f he LT?he prickly pear-but she would be in
ous, 18 to th®P and kindliness would
D ° .S"her And above all, was he not solemnly
protect her. d tru0j cultivated, so-
en 1Iv fc distinguished: and finally ricA, which was
! L« more to the purpose with a young man,
perhaps more i v r father was compns-
philosopher, we will do him the justice to say,
had passed in great lonesomeness, the door of
his silent neighbor blossomed with a card.
this morning. Of the aeident at the tarn, three
days ago, and of the cicumstances connected
with it, I wrote yon by esterday's mail. Ihe
most exasperating intrruptions and events
have prevented me fron having any private in
terview with her since—me word might have
saved her ! This mornhg at an early hour, it
was fonnd that she haddisappeared! No one
can imagine my feeling The old people are
dull and apathetic, silet and morose. N° mat
ter what their feelings re, they conceal them
effectually under an eurior of sullenneas ana
gloom. They seem icapablo of conducting,
Here then was prospect of relief. Arthur had
a taste for the Arts. At home, his walls glowed
with fat Cupids, and saintly Madonnas, with su
perb animals and beautiful flowers, with bril
liant obelisques and very unspiritual Venuses
—and besides he felt his penance had lasted long
enough, and he was now entitled to some relief
from this unbarable ennui.
The card led him to speculate on the appear
ance and history of the silent little painter.
Marion Annandale is not a common name, and
to be painting quietly in , at this time of
the year, is not common. There was something
attractive and fair sounding in the a's of the
name. Was she dark or light? old or yonng—
plain or fair?
Two or three very tantalizing days dragged by.
Generally Arthur’s door was accidentally open,
in hopes of a passing glimpse of the little mys-
tio, but it appeared that she never went out
when he waa in. This much was collected from
his washer, whom he questioned, showing great
oonoern on the subject, however, that she was a
world had been drawn without his leave, by the
clever little pencil woman, and as his heart be-
j g a n to beat faster, his tongue was less free and
! fluent. I wonder if a woman could believe in
| a man who could make love to her without stam
mering and shrinking and trembling:' Would
not she think the despatch—sent on love’s elec
tric lines—had reached his brain but not his
heart? Every day to Arthur William’s mind, a
new shade of interest seemed to settle on her.
It was in answer to a very sympathizing remark
of his that she had said.
“Yon do not know what a lonely body I am, in
this great world. One of the characters in i lm
Day’s of Bruce, bore on his shield engraved a bro
ken detached bough with the words, “Ai nom, ni
parens, Issuisseul." Except thatlhave a name, I
am as lonelj' as that knight of the broken bough.
I never knew my mother, nor what it is to have a
sister or brother, and when I was sixteen years
old my father was lost at sea, returning from a
visit to England. He had not been what the
world calls successful, and when he died, I was
left without relation or friends that could help
me, with barely enough of means to finish
my education.” Her eyes filled with tears and
her lips trembled, and Arthur felt so painful
ly sympathetic that he was rejoiced, that her
usually cheerful conversation did not often re
fer to the trials of her life. When he went to
his room be mused on her beauty, on her lone-^
[Continued on 8th page.}