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[Continued from lBt page, liness. “Just to think,” he muttered, “of this ephemeral creature, cut off from the world, wear ing out her life in toil and privation-with no body to look to or depend on. By George ! it is enough to make a fellow sick to think of it. But for her eyes, I would think she could not be more than twenty—but no, she knows too much of life; she must be older than that. By Jove' i don’t believe I ever felt before towards any woman as I do her—but, of course, it is not love—that is, not to hurt—but as for her—yes— undoubtedly—well-but what isto be aone?” No creature in the air answered the conundrum, and he went on as if no answer was necessary, dreaming of her by night, and waking up to long delicious days. He helped her every way— “superintended her work” he said, sent her pa pers, read aloud to her that exquisite book Com pensation, and almost trembled when he thought how she might live Marie Merle's life over again in her solitude and isolation. He was so thoughtlul and gentle—Marion had not met so pleasant a friend for a long, long time. But in proportion as he grew more thoughtful of her, beseemed to grow less so of others. It is true Henry Nelson received an occasional letter, full of the plainest confessions and avowals— avowals which made him expect serious devel- opements, ere long—but “M. M." had received her last letter many week’s before, and had pass ed like a morning cloud out of his mind. His thoughtfulness suggested the necessity of air and recreation, and everyday found them when the morning’s work was done, hunting flowers and ferns, and mosses, or taking twilight walks on the long strand close to the foamy surge. He was happy, charmed; life was as sweet as a soft low song set to sweet music—but he must break it up. His late experience had taught him too solemn a lesson to be altogether un heeded. He had hardly felt a thrill of pride— indeed he had folt almost humble, when he wrote to Henry Nelson, “I am misconstrued again. My heart trembles. Must every little kindness be misinterpreted?” Then they must part. How tranquilly, nay, blissfully the summer days were passing, but the word must be spoken that will snap the sil ver ehord. He called on a sweet bright day, to say that fatal word good-bye—a little pale, and just a wee-bit trembling perhaps. To break an en chanting dream for plain, matter-of-fact reality, at all times costs a pang, and no human being not absolutely lost to feeling, has ever yet cast aside a heart that cherished him, without a sense of pain, and an anxious foreboding lest the future should not hold this boon for him again. But Arthur had ‘screwed his courage to the sticking place.’ and in spite of every obstacle, he had resolved to act as a man of honor should. So he had written Nelson. Marion was surprised and startled at his sud den determination to leave; only she was a per son of no ordinary self-control. She certainly did not express all that she felt, but she plead ed gently for a delay of a day or two. To-mor row, a former pastor and dear friend, she said, would be with her, and it would be so pleasant for her to introduce them.’ Was he quite sure he did not need a little evangelizing? ‘Poor little heart! Any excuse to prolong the present,’ thought Arthur, as he pressed her hands closely for a moment, and then was gone. Late on the same evening, as he was passing out to the village where he would spend the night so as to take the morning train, he was attracted by a crowd which had gathered from about the house, around something lying on the grass in the yard near the gate. A few steps brought him to the spot, where he beheld Marion AnnandMe white, motionless—dead! Ais heart smote him like a flash of lightning. Was this another victim ! He dared not stop, but hurried on, leaving the spot as reiaorseful as another Cain. So Marion Annandale has melted away like the sea fjam—or like the mist of the mountain, or as a pure, white dream that had hovored for a moment over ‘ a darkened and devious spirit,’ gone ! CHAPTER. III. THE COBRA. Behold Arthur Williams the centre of attrac tion at the most fashionable watering place in America. Good Heavens! what rattling and dancing, and dashing, and flirting ! I declare no body could be miserable there, unless he brought the wretched skeleton with him. And this I know, that mornings filled j with rides on prancing, chargers, and drives, j and rambles, and promenades, and tete-a-tetes on rustic seats in shady grounds—and afternoons j given over to ten-pins, and billiards, and post- I prandial naps, and gentle dozes over fair ro- j mnnces,—and evenings in the ball room, with its thousand glancing lights, intoxicating per fumes. fairy costumes, its hosts of radiant faces and starry eyes, the multitudinous hum of sil very voices, long mirrors duplicating without ceasing the countless enchantments and splen dors, flashing gems and gorgeously tinted flow ers fresh from natures hand, or her cunningest imitators, and the swift w hirls of the giddy dan cers keeping in harmony with the flood of music that pulses on the perlume-laden air,—have a great and wonderlul power in commending to the expanded senses the glow and graces of the world around us. It is a bewildering and ii- sidious enchantment that cannot be analyzed, and is therefore, most hard to fight against. Life is lovely and almost complete. Arthur found himself on the first evening of his arrival, the handsomest man, and the best and fastest dancer in tbe room, and it was not long before he was presented to Lizzie John ston, the beauty and belle of that summer. She was of the queenly style of beauty, possessed of high cultivation and unusual accomplishments. On that evening, as always, her toilet was a master-piece of taste. Her dark hair and eyes and the aristocratic whiteness of her complex ion, were finely set off by a flowing dress of black lace vandyked with scarlet geraniums. Her swan-like neck was without an ornament, her arms like mother-of-pearl and models for a sculptor, unrelieved except by one broad band of woven gold. On her bosom—from the edge of a bodice extremely decollette—trailed a grace ful bunch of scarlet flowers. Her taste in dress ing was for her style always perfect—’though gorgeous and glowing—which seemed yet to comport well with her languishing walk, her air of effeminacy, and the imperturbable composure of her face. No woman there had such a repu tation for power to kindle the grand passion. She had undoubtedly brilliant talents, and not able tact, and played them off to great advan- tage. From the first moment of their acquaintance her eyes sought Arthur’s, and followed him as the needle does the pole. “The moon-land trembled, When earth's son went To the steel-gloved contest.” Arthur was a little shy at first, but she was resolved to overcome his repugnance, and he was forced by politeness to meet her halfway in her agreeable and unexpected advances. Before he understood how or why, he found himself dancing constantly with her, and saw her with out regrets or excuses breaking her engagements with others, that she might monopolize him. His face flushed and his eyes sparkled as vanity began to whisper her Bweet deceits in his ear. When at length she complained of tbe heat of the room and proposed a promenade in the mocnlight and open air—he felt like a man drifting slowly ofl, to the enchanted islands— and so indeed he was. I said she had brilliant talents. In conversa tional power she has been rarely equaled—not merely a machine for turning ont words, or an arsenal of interjections and exclamations, but a quick, sympathetic, sparkling talker—wonder ful at repartee—but a good listener with all, with the sunniest smiles and the sweetest shad ows ready at command. Arthur was considerably interested in the con versation that night, but it so happened that she had to stop at the most interesting point. Surely she did not think at the time that he would seek a renewal—but he did the next day, and there never was an end to the renewals. Later in the morning he found her at the piano. He had always been much moved by the con cords of sweet sounds, from which it may be in ferred that he was fit for neither stratagem or treasons. She glanced up gayily at him as he came near, and completing the piece with a thundering crash, rose from the seat. He inter posed. ‘Pray go on. I cannot live without mnsio, and came in specially to hear yon.’ ‘Not just now !' ‘Now, and forever. Ton do not know the needs of my immortal soul.’ ‘I will play then this trio from Fesca—not for yonr immortal soul, mind you ! but for my— my own heart.' And she did. Of course there was no missy- ism about Miss Johnston. She disdained the stereotyped excuses of a bad cold, and being out es—the same minute but not-to-be-mistaken ev idence of preference and regard—the kindling of the eye at his coming, the sportive demands of service and devotion, and tbe half confessions which every entrapped dunce had magnified in to whole ones. The opening clause of the wary Henry Nelson’s last letter had been—‘Hello, old fellow—a dan gerous man may sometimes be in danger'—which was not elegant, but perfectly true. The supreme moment came at last. It was twilight—the day had been soft, beautiful, rosy —the very air amorous, filled with murmurous tones but faintly beard, as if a whole choir was hovering high in the air—or was it the rustle of wings—moving away! He took the little hand in his. There was no effort to withdraw it and she lifted her love- freighted eyes to his where he saw their wild fire melting into dark mist. There was in them that same pleading, wistful, longing look. I think it was a long silence that followed, or it might have been only an instant. Time has nothing to do with those tumultuous momemts of life, and so discreetly shoulders his scythe, and passes by on the farther side. She bowed her face nearer—very near to his bosom—in the summer twilight that was creep ing on. The stillness was entrancing. He feared to speak lest he should break the charm, and she should move away, and be lost to him forever. ‘I have a confession to make,’ he began, trem- Toccoa Falls—Georgia. of practice—there were no murmuriDgs of dis inclination, half agreeing and then refusing, tossing the head and pouting the lips, and fin ally, when the suppliant is completely spent, a reluctant yielding, ller easy and corditl grace was as fresft as a breeze, and truly ori ginal. She played admirably, and he told her so. ‘Yes,’she said demurely, ‘very well; but I cannot express half of what I feel !’ This was refreshing candor. It is the fashion to decry one’s own attainments and to be]severely critical on one’s own performance; but Miss Johnston had a fashion of her own. As a performer, she was elegant and artistio— no failure, no flaws. Her style was nervous, vigorous and enchanting. She could render trembling, dreamy passages, breathing of love and longing, with strange and beautiful fascina tion, and in every variety of sentiment; her playing had toDe, expression, power and finish. The sun began to grow brighter aronnd Ar thur Williams. Everything took a luxurious and luring way, and in all his surroundings, there came a charm and spell, pleasing, graceful and irresistible. In ajword, this worldly wise, dangerous man bad, like Robinson Ciusoe’s ship, ‘With a shock, Struck plump on a rock.’ Nelson, the ever true and always in a hurry, expostulated with him by telegraph, and begged him for the love of heaven, to throw out an anchor to windward ? But he either had no anchor aboard, or disdained advice—aDd drifted gloriously on with the gale. This man, cold and dangerous according to his own estimate of himself, was at the edge of a whirlpool. In her perfect abandon to gaiety, in her haughty, care less coquetry, Lizzie Johnston was drawing, and binding him with cords of steel. Amidst the flashings of wit, the sparkle of wine, and the blandishments of wealth and beauty, and her numerous train of reckless and passionate admirers, she was the gayest of revelers. Her laugh was the readiest, her wit the most bril liant, her coquetry the most fearless and inim itable. For at least seven years ber life bad been one grand role, and she had in her {ime, inspired terrible passions. it is a singular fact, that with men, love is oftener kindled by disdain than by tender and true regard, and a woman never runs a greater risk of being unloved and unappreciated, than at the very moment when she is most worthy of love. The experience of the last two months hardly held the permanence, in Arthur’s mind, of the memory of shadows on a stream, and the re membrance of Maggie Morton, had slunk away like a guilty black sprite from the light of day. He had awakened to the first consciousness of the crowning happiness of life. There was ris ing at the shrine of the sumptuous beauty the incense of a devoted love. He could not resist the pleadings of his own heart. Weeks and weeks passed, and with them glided away the flowers and butterflies, and he was happy One after another of fashion’s votaries had retired from the scene,but Arthur was lingering, dread ing to hear his fate,—and the belle of the season loitered, oh,so unconsciously ! to pronounce it. Before the summer flowers had all faded, and the summer sunlight had crept away, he must hear it. Every day and hour he passed in her society seemed to increase the strength of that passion, with which the boasted reason of man has so often been found unequal to cope. For a long time her haughty mien had been chang ing towards him—growing sweeter, more allur ing, inviting. Her soft blandishments lulled him to reBt, and filled his dreams with dazzling pictures of enraptured felicity. He drank in as a famished hart drinks crystal water, his glances thrilling and tingling with all the fire of lan guishing love. He did not stop to think that the same endearing arts had been lavished on every comer—the same gentle pressure of hand and arm, which eaoh infatuated blook-head had interpreted to suit his own mad hopes and wish- bling, his voice thic jand hoarse. I have wfuted^to spG-k these words to you, but have refrained, fearJVq from me. — , life at stak | you lf,ow he caro.ui in a nurry. T have iiyen watching and waiting for you. ADdnowIa.sk—ask you to accept the love which the heart only feels once in this life of ours. If you can trust me, trust my tender ness and love, and give yourself into my heart’s poor keeping, I would make your coming years brightness and gladness, as far as lay in my power. You are dearer to me than the blood that visits my heart, or the light to my eyes— and 1 know you have known this all along.’ He had sunk down before her on his knee; his arms extended with a passionate gesture. One moment she drew back with an allu ring, coqnettish movement. Then she gave him her hands. ‘Get up, naughty man,’ she whispered, and when he had risen, she suffered him to take her in his arms. ‘Trustyou! oh how can yon doubt it?’ she murmured as his arms drew her close and his lips were pressed to hers. ‘My precious darling!’ his murmurous, trem bling tones mingled with the night bird, the chimes ot the katydid, the settling shadows.' (concluded next week. ) The Three Skeletons. ful garlands amongst the taller shrubs, and iv ies and strange clinging vines trailed and sway ed amid the rocks and pines of the cliffs above us. Then we wonnd our way up toilsome steeps and looked down into the abyss at the river fret ting its way through the dark cavern. On these high plains bloom the creamy hibiscus, scarlet cypress and golden ooreopsis, with hosts of hardy flowers in purple and white, blue, crim son and pink. The few pines are low and broad, stooping to caress the grass and flowers. To the north the low plains stretched far away until the Snowy Ranges lifting their white walls of snow and ioe shut out the living world and mark the limits of eternal snow. The varying landscapes in mountain regions so charm and interest that fatigue iB seldom felt. For days our party traveled on. Sometimes we left our horses to rest whila we caught trout for oar next meal, or for hours lingered to ad mire the beauty and grandeur of the landscape. One afternoon as we were fishing, some of the gentlemen who were ont on horseback, re turned to the wagons with news that a few miles to the right of the road, by following an old trail, they had found a little valley where trout were plenty in the streams, grass was good, and game lurked on the mountain sides. We decided to push on and camp there for the night, and give our horses several days’ rest, while tbe ladies fished or botanized, and the gentlemen hunted deer and bear. It was near sunset when we entered the val ley. The mountains enciroled a pretty flat where prairie grass grew in great luxuriance, and from east and north a foaming mountain stream rushed into the valley, dashed about, then joined hands, and in a broader stream, went rushing to the west. In the fork there was a gentle rise, and near the summit stood three low pines; there we decided to pitch our tents. Twilight was coming on. The crimson, and goid had faded from the sky and shadows were dark in the valley when we reached the pines; then a feeling of undefinable dread stole over the party, for there stood a camp stove covered with rust, but perfect in all its parts and near by were the remains of two old saddles. Twilight deepened into night, our camp fire blazed high, but its dancing lights and merry snaps found no echoes in our hearts, for there was a shadow of some dark mystery brooding over the camp. The pines moaned and sighed as if restless spirits were mur muring to them the story of wrongs unavenged. We felt the presence of the unseen, and listened; there came a shriek, the wind had blown off a lady’s hat, and as she ran to catch it, she stumbled over a skeleton. Two other skeletons were found near by. Dread changed to horror; there in thestarlight lay three skeletons. Who were they ? I We dare not think ! Our merry party ! of pleasure-seekers was changed to silent watchers by the unburied dead; owls hooted, and wolves came near and cried and wailed; at midnight the moon raised her wan face over the moun tains and shed a paler and more ghastly light around us. Near the more distant pine the shimmer of a soft star was seen. One of the gentlemen went to see what could be there to reflect the moonlight; he returned with a broken pistol in his hand. My heart sank as I caught sight of For weeks j the pear land silver mounting. I took it quickly in my hand and saw what I had feared I would see. The initials H. Ti. II. eugravea upon it. It j - March 23. If Evs is the correct answer to “prize puzzle” No. 20, I claim one of the beautiful chre- mos. Others, out of the city of Atlanta, but not so far off, may be ahead of me, but I am as early as the earliest in the far off “Lone Star” State. I frequently solve your enigmas, puzzles, etc., but I am so far away, that it is scarcely worth while for me to send answers, but I risk it this time. I will expect the chromo. Respectfully. Mbs. J. A. Campbell, Hempstead, Texas. Mrs. John W. Vann, of Florida, says : Dear Sunny South : Last night I was reading over your puzzles and enigmas, when I came to your prize puzzle. I stopped and commenced trying to solve it, I think it is an Eye. Am I right? If so, I hope that I will be in time to get the pretty chromo; if not, please excuse my first effort, and believe me to be one of the best friends of the dear Sunny South. From one of your subscribers. Mbs. John W. Yajh*. , they might drive you When th-^iappiness of a man’s whole ! was Mrs. Halbert’s litt> pistol—the pretty toy she *' afferd to be { hr.cl be n wont to smile and show us, when vre hinted at the danger Tfrom Indians that might overtake her and her husband in some of their Answers to Correspondents. A. says: You told us in your last issue the or iginal significance of certain colors, which we enjoyed reading ever so much. Will you now be so kind as to give us the emblems of a few flowers, such as grow in our yards and shed so much, sweetness and happiness around our hearts, and believe me, by so doing you will very much oblige one that has derived much pleasure and informa tion from the dear Sunny South We regret that our limited space will not admit of a compliance with your request. However, should you deem it expedient to send us your true address, we will mail you gratuitously “Burnett’s Language of Flowers, ’ which is perfectly authentic. R. E. C. says : As I have been a constant reader of the Sunny South, and never fail to give due at tention to the interesting and always informing answers to correspondents I shall feel obliged if granted permission to ask a few questions, which may prove of benefit even unto others that desire the same information. 1. When notice is sent in for publication under the head of “ Correspondents Wanted,” is there any rule to prevent gentlemen advertising as ladies, and vice versa ? 2. As al most all persons correspond with an acknowledged view to matrimony, do you know of any corres- pondence gotten up from such notices that have really led to that most desirable of all culmina tions ? How would it answer to call upon the experienced—provided there are any—requesting them to own up, and “ give in their experience ?” I am positive it would prove edifying.. .1. There is no rule prohibiting gentlemen advertising as ladies, neither the reverse ; yet we fail to see just where the interest in such correspondence would present itself. 2. As everything pertaining to this particular department is profoundly confiden tial, we cannot betray the number of hearts united by our special Cupid’s instrumentality ; yet should the parties most interested choose to avail them selves of your suggestion, we shall be delighted to hear from them. excursions after the picturesque. It had over taken her—a cruel death—the long, fair hair torn from her lovely head, her body left with her husband’s and another to be torn by wild beats, and to bleach in sun and wind. The gay, fearless, witty lady who had charmed us so well. Early next morning we buried the three skeletons under the sombre pines and hnrried from tbe place, our hearts saddened by the mournful fate that had befallen our friends. A Scene in Colorado. BY E. STUART. Pike’s Peak, like a sentinel, stands guarding tbe three towns that seek shelter in his protec ting shadow. Only Colorado Springs rests on the Plain, its broad streets are shaded by rows of trees that draw their life from the rippling streams that form a silver net-work through the town. Old Calorado City, built before the days of rail roads, shrinks back close to tbe moun tain, that the earliest shadows may cover her as if ashamed of her crumbling rains. Charm ing Monito clings to the mountain side yet fears to leave the valley where her wond rful springs still bear the blessing of the Great Spirit. Poet nor artist can describe Monito, the sighing wind, rushing water over hanging cliffs, dark ravines, changing clouds, picturesque cottages, queer hotels, dashing carriages, music and laugh ter, glimpse of gay flower beds, great old boul ders, rustic bridges, bubbling springs, water falls and rainbows render life at Monito an in spiration. Yet Monito has stories of the region beyond, of game in tbe forest, trout in the stream, and visions of beauty and grandeur. In tne summer of 1875 we met Mr. Halbert and his pretty wife, who had joined a party at Monito and started over the mountains to hunt in the park, and go on to Santa Fee and other old Mex ican towns. They were warned of the dangers of such an excursion Indians were constantly committing depredations, and there was danger to inexperienced hunters from bear and moun tain lion. Tbe party laughed at danger, and Mrs. Halbert showed her dainty pistol, a mar vel of beauty in silver and mother of pearl on which her initials H. H. H. were engraved. The summer passed and came again, the Halberts and their party were forgotten. People in the eastern cities were absorbed with the wonders of the great Centennial Exhibition while the miners in the Rocky Mountain were opening new fields of treasure. Tben came the long winter from October until June and when the summer returned the summer of 1877 new roads were surveyed and passes once unsafe became thorough-fares. In August we joined a party for a camp hunt, and decided to go over the mountains and camp on the plains as there was then no danger to be feared from the Indians. The canon through which we passed, was a blending of beauty and granduer. Sometimes we were close to the river's bank, where wild flowers in tropical luxuriance dipped to the water’s brink, clematis wove grace- The Prize Puzzle. CORRECT ANSWERS, AND WHO GETS THE PRIZES. “ Eye ” is the Correct Answer. Now, we are completely turned down. We did not think a single correct answer would come in to that puzzle, when Io ! here comes a great swarm of them. We give each credit for real sharpness. The following have answered correctly : Mrs. Dr. C. W. Bailey, Clarksville, Tenn ; A. M. Marshall, Atkins, Ark.; E. A. Parker, Rus sellville, Ga; Miss Cary Page, Cary, N. C.; Miss Annie Treadwell, Memphis, Tenn ; L. E. Cenas, New Orleans; Master Ollie Reneau, Atlanta: A. II. C. Atlanta; Jessie Lee Montgomery, Mari etta, Ga; S. P. Weisiger, Augusta, Ga; Mrs. J. B. Shumate, Decatur, Ga. ; Mrs. Dr. Hogan, Grantville, Ga ; Mrs. L. Rutherford, Athens, Ga; Mrs. M. Randall, Americus, Ga; C. A. Ponce, Guyton, Ga; Annie Bell Clarke, Newnan, Ga ; A. E. Wimbish, LaGrange, Ga; Mary Mitchell, Montgomery, Ala; Minnie Henderson, Talladega, Jla; J. Q. Robins, Guntown, Miss; John H. O’Neal, New York city; W. P. K., Richmond, Va; Mrs. M. L. O'Hara, Mobile, Ala; Mary E. Alexander, Chulahoma, Miss ; Miss Ida Lee My ers, Clarksville, Tenn; Miss Claudia Broyles, Crawfish Spring, Ga; V. I*. Holt, Hampton, Va; Rev. S. Boykin, Macon, Ga; Louis Braswell, Demopolis, Ala; II. T. Lee, Goliad, Texas ; Mrs. Susan Archer Weiss, Richmond, Va ; Mrs. Jno. W. Vann, Madison, Fla.; Mrs. J. A. Campbell, Hempstead, Texas. WHO GETS THE PBIZES ? Five correct answers were mailed on the 21st. The prize for the first correct answer by a non resident of Atlanta, is awarded to Mrs. Dr. Hogan, of Grant ville. The next prize is awarded to A, H. C. 23 Ivy street, Atlanta. Mrs. Susan Archer Weiss, of Richmond, Vir ginia, says : Richmond, Va., March 23, 1878. Mr. Seals—Deae Sir : I have this moment re ceived the Sunny South for to-day, read your pretty puzzle first thing, and guessed it at the tenth line. The word “expressive” betrayed it. And now, if I am entitled to it, please send on the chromo. The word is, the Eye. Yours truly, Susa* Abchhb Weiss. Mrs. J. A. Campbell, says: 1 have just received the Sunny South, No. 144, Quondary asks: Will you be bo kind as to in« form me if, in your opinion, there is any reliability to be placed in the many hair restoratives which are so much in vogue now-a-days ? I am only twenty-five years of age, and yet my hair, which was luxuriant one year since, has grown quite thin and lifeless within the past six months. I have resorted to almost everything that my friends would recommend without any perceptible benefit, and now I positively teel discouraged. If there y remedy, I faKou'ul fool -Ielic;Vii.Gcl r ami very much indebted, <o he.-.r of it..'.. .Wecannot speak from practical experience, yet from hearsay we are decidedly prejudiced against all “ hair resto ratives.” Ti e loss of yours seems to explain it self. Every person’s hair naturally renews by falling out more or less at times. You became, we think, unnecessarily alarmed, and possibly applied remedies which proved directly detrimental. Now, suppose you discontinue everything for a time, and then try rainwater and common soda. Always endeavor to keep the scalp perfectly clean, avoid pomades, and brush your head often. Perhaps the debilitated state of your health has something to do with it. If so, remedy the latter, and the first will cure itself. I Should Like to Know, asks: Why is it that our progenitors invariably selected the fourth tin- ger of the left hand as the most appropriate to wear the matrimonial token ?... .Swinburne’s Treatise on Espousals says that anatomy demon strates there is a vein of blood which passes from that finger into the heart, called vena amoris— love’s vein—and so the wearing of the ring on that finger signifies that the love should not be in vain, or feigned, but as they should give hands each unto the other, so likewise should they give hearts whereunto that vein extended.” This idea is at tributed to the ancient Egyptians as early as the second century. Loevinus Leminus, a celebrated sage of Zealand, in his medical practice often, ’tis said, took advantage of this connecting artery to restore fainting women to consciousness, by either rubbing the joints of the fourth finger or by pinch ing them. Blue Eyes says : Dear Sunny South—You never will know how much'genuine pleasure your expla nations in regard to “ colors ” and “ gems,” elicit ed by “Bertha’s” interrogatory, has given us girls; and now, to verify the old adage that “ the more one receives the more they want,” l come to you for iuformation in regard to the eyes Mine are blue, and I just do want to know if this, my only redeeming feature, cannot be eulogized in some poetic romance We cheerfully append our entire fund of knowledge as regards tbe color of the human eye, yet we think equally as much— nay more—could be said of the expression. How ever, the latter is one of the few things that can be seen, and even magnetically felt, yet defies ac curate description- This is what is culled from the “ Brownsville Advertiser:” •‘ Brown eyes’ hoods Cover moods ; The eye of blue Is firm and true ; Gray eyes ever dry, Gray eyes ever sly ; But the black eye glistening, gleaming, Like God’s ways, hath deepest meaning.’’ Gertie asks: What poet is responsible for the following lines: “ Let the great world spin forever down The ringing grooves of change.” ’Tis one of Tennyson’s flights of fancy. Wanted. A FEW Pupils, either in the Literary branches or Music, or both, by a lady who is thoroughly acquaint ed with the best methods of instruction, and who has had much experience in teaching. Highest testimonials can he giveu of her ability as a teaeher. Address M. H. S., No. 57. Marietta street. 147—tf IT ■ I ** IT Van X, Woolley’s' Painless AMERICAN IUM Cure or ANTIDOTE. Office No. 85, over Linen Store, entrance Whitehall street. The habit of u.^ing Mor phine/} um Opium, Laud anum or Elixir of Opium cured painlessly by this Improved remedy. Manufactured at Atlanta, Ga., at reduced prices. Tented »n hundreds of chaoa. Guaranteed. Par ticulars Fan ■. Address B* M, Woolley, Atlanta, Ga. 38}