Newspaper Page Text
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JOHN H. SEALS. - Editor and Proprietor
W. Q. SEALS, - Proprietor and Cor. Editor.
3£RS. MARY E,
BRYAN (*) Associate Editor.
ATLANTA, GEORGIA, JULY 20, 1878.
The Newspaper Stage Critic —In
•Macleod of Dare,’ Mr. Black’s new novel, the
clever author shows up the dramatic critic of
the ordinary type to be found in. towns, and
not unfrequently in those more pretentious col
lections of houses, called cities. Miss Gertrude
White, the heroine, is an actress, whom experi
ence has disillusioned ot enthusiasm for her pro
fession, but who is yet wholly conscientious
about her work, studies assiduously and feels
that she has earned a right to the plaudits that
a-6 liberally bestowed upon her. But these
disgust her when she sees thov are lavishly be
stowed on other actresses who have no claim to
praise—or some girl in a burlesque who, struts
up and down the stage and smokes a cigar with
an air. The house roars and the reporter for the
paper next morning commends the burlesquer
as highly as he could a true artist.’ ‘Oh those
papers V cries Miss Gertrude. ‘I have been
making minute inquiries of late; and I find that
the usual way in these towns is to let the young
literary aspirant who has just joined the office,
or the clever compositor who has been promoted
to the sub-editor’s room, try his hand first of all
-reviewing books and then turn him' on to dra
matic and musical criticism ! Occasionally a
-reporter, who has been round the police-courts
to get notes of the night-charges, will drop into
the theatre on his way to the office, and ‘do a
par., as they call it. Will you believe it possi
ble that the things written of me by these persons
w jth their pretentious airs of criticism, and
their gross ignorance cropping up at every point
—have the power to vex and annoy me most ter
ribly? I laugh at the time; but the phrase
rankles m my memory all the same. One learn
ed young man said of me the other day: ‘It is
really distressing to mark the want of unity in
her artistic characterizations when one regards
the natural advantages that nature has heaped
upon her!’ ‘And perhaps, also,’he went'on to
say. ‘Miss White would do well to pay some at
tention before venturing on pronouncing the
classic names of Greece. Iphigenia herself would
not have answered to her name if she had heard
it pronounced with the accent on the fourth syl
lable.’ .
■ Is it not too ridiculous that such things should
*w I should be s t absolutely at thei^son oimve ar
mercy of the opinion oFthe people wfidse juag-'j^'*-'**- ° “
ment I know to be absolutely valueless ? I find
the same thing all around me. I find a middle-
aged actor, who knows his work thoroughly, and
seen all the best actors of the past quarter of
a century, will go about quite proudly with a
scrap of approval from some newspaper, written
by a voung man who has never travelled beyond
the snrburbs of his native town and has seen no
acting beyond that of the local company.’ *
Turner’s First Picture.—We have
read a pleasing anecdote of the first manifesta
tion of genius on the part of the great artist
the idol of Mr. Buskin, who is himself the great
est of word painters. West took his first art-
inspiration from the face of his baby sister whom
her little
Nil About I.<OVe letters.—Is there
auy young lady over fifteen who has not receiv
ed at least one love-letter, conned it over a doz
en times, ftom date to signature, and laid it
away in the most sacred corner of her trun k ?
or any young gentleman, who has attained the
grave and dignified age of eighteen, that has not
perspired over the inditement of one of these
precious epistles, to the dark-eyed lady of his
adoration, with Webster's Dictionary and the
‘ Complete Letter-Writer’ beside him ?
Oh ! what a deal of ink and paper and valua
ble time have been wasted in telling that old,
sweet story, ‘I love thee, I love thee,’ which, un
like other things, never grows stale, and never
will, so long as youth carries a warm heart with
in its bosom. Wasted, did we say ? We recall
the word. That which gives innocent pleasure
is never wasted, else the beauty of sunsets, the
sweetness of flowers, the music- of bird and
breeze are all in vain. No, not wasted: for of
what pure joy, what heart-throbs that sent the
blood to the cheek and a tremor to the white
fingers, have these little missives been produc
tive ? Can we not all remember our first love-
letter, and the tumult it excited under our bod
ice—how we stole away to the solitude of our
own white-curtained room, locked the door,
read and re-read the precious billet, and at
night laid it beside our pillows, as little girls do
their dolls, to be conned over at earliest day.
It is said that romance dies out of the heart
with its quickly sp’ent youth, as the rose-blush
fades from the sky, when the morning melts in
to day. But we cannot believe this true. Ev
ery human heart keeps a little corner sacred to
romance, where worldly cares and sordid feel
ings mav not enter, and whose sanctuary is nev
er profaned by the disenchanting presence of
‘practical common sense.’
We see this in Ihe care and tenderness with
which the ‘fair, fat and forty’ matron hoards the
little satin bound package of yellow, lavender-
scented love-letters, that were once chief among
her girlish treasures, and which she still reads
over occasionally with moistened eyes, when she
lights upon them in searching for some missing
skein of silk. . ,
Next to reading a love-letter written to one s
sell, it is most pleasant to read those addressed
to others. Some rare samples of these have come
under our observation—samples to which it
seems impossible to attach any romance whatev
er; for just think of a smitten swain telling a
girl that he loves her with a little i, or spelling
the ‘magic word’ with a u, and writing on blue
foolscap paper with the edges notched with a
pair of shears, as we have seen in our country
experiences. But they have another kind of
love-letter in that ‘land of the myrtle and vine’
—a love-letter, the sweetest, the most poetical
that can be imagined, and no thanks to enamel
ed paper or extract of violets either. In the
Foason of love and roses and mating birds, the
sweet secret upon the fragrant snow-white petals
of the Magnolia Grandifiora, and send to 6ach
other the love-freighted messengers. Surely,
billetdoux more delicate and beautiful could
not be devised; the only fault to be found is,
that such missives cannot be packed away
and preserved; but then, they often last quite as
long as tbe vows recorded upon them.
Many interesting and curious specimens of
love-letters have been bequeathed to literature.
We have read the love-letters ofyDean Switt, and
seen how the satirist could lay aside the gall
into which he so often dipped his pen, and
pour the honey of Hybla into those tender words
addressed to Stella and Vanessa. We have read
the letters of Burns and Clorinda and smiled
!»Ien-<Sossips.—The woman Scandal-mon
ger is bad enough, in all oonscience, but she is
not so contemptible as tfce male retailer of the
article. The woman gus^pper has some excuse.
Gossip with her is a re^ge of an empty mind.
Parental Favoritism.—The lives of
the Ancient Patriarchs, as written by the pen of
the inspired Historian, teach important lessons
in regard to the evils that may result from
a display of parental partiality Abraham be-
The average woman has no engrossing pursuits oe -
! nnnnniahead aa ! ' !‘ 0 ™ d U ? 0a Isaac most <* ^ love and wealth,
Kebecca loved Jacob more than Esau and con-
tirived to give him the advantage of his broth
er and Jacob in his turn loved Joseph
more than he did any of his sons. All of these
favorites suffered more or less for this preference
of their parents. We may well suppose that
the quiet gentle Isaac was all his* life long afraid
of the wild, fierce Ishmale who had been driven
no business that occuphs head as well as hands.
She has been taught, impractical training and
example that she li^j nothing to do with
politics, science, progfif in art ft nd literature,
mechanical iinproveme :s, and all the world
of active ideas and of* il results. She meets
her dear female friends ivery day. They talk
and talk as they ciooM >r rock in low chairs
and sway their palm-le^fans. Their few sub
jects of conversation arloon worn thread-bare.
Having talked a little atat the latest style of
overskirt and discusseithe latest sensational
item in the daily papeiihey fall into gossip,
which is soon thought me unless spiced with
scandal. So long as the are women who have
no pursuits or aims infe and whose brain is
barren of aspiration, slong as there are wo
men who have been tfht to bring into the
daily conduct of life iwider knowledge, no
nobler motives and nqore respect for their
minds and souls than any of those we see
aronnd us, so long sha'ehave female gossip-
pers, and there will b«use for their talking
gossip since they can t nothing else.
But there is none for male gossipper, who
with all a man’s broad d of thought and work
opened to him, all a nnvariety of topics made
ligitimate-for him to dss, who with the priv-
elege to criticise the < and speculate as to
Tilden’s secret progme or Tyndal’s next
step in searching for life principle, shall
yet condescend to loi on side walks and
comment on female prs-by.
Often, the male iipper is not merely
ridiculous, he is peons. His gossip has
venem in it. Loungit street corners or in
bar-rooms, he is, & vble serpent, striking
stealthily under the .* of hint or shrug or
sly insinuation. He
‘Conveys a by a frown
Anil winksfutation down,’
For it is in winks aninuations, as safe ways
| of stabbing,that thesand malicious slander
ers usually deal. Sn earnest and feeling
writer; ‘the insinutu more to be dreaded
than the outspoken. In one case, a plain
statement is made, ■ other a great deal is
left to the imaginatnd on the vividness of
that the honor andation of a woman, in
nocent or guilty, idependant. I know so
many cases where lent people have been
morally murdered careless word or jest;
the hand that shot row forgot it, perhaps,
as soon hs sent, buieart it struck never got
over the wound, imes it has been not a
moral bat an actucder. I know a case in
this city, and maiou, my gossippers, will
remember it also, 1 few years ago a young
girl of well-knowny died from a broken
heart, caused by salous story started by
a masculine vampt moment of drunken
boasting. It wsjs st by male and female
—r.nd the
girl died, and lrderer deserved hanging
far more than <0 shoots you down in the
streets.
The sad part the world likes to beleive
the worst. It great delight in people’s
affairs. It likibscandals, and the divorce
column is the id best read in the news
paper. It is interested in anv crime
where a womaacerned, and it grows idi-
odic over a hi promise. The honor of
a respectable iis no sooner attacked than
the whole worls to listen. Calumny and
slander sticklur, and though you may
think you hared it all off’some of it is
sure to remai: *
RcyomI ISrlok Walls. Wonderful
W illotYS.—This week, the weather king drop
ped upon us by mistake, a quiver-fall of days
meant for the tropios. Thursday was the most
fire-tipped of the batch—a day to suggest torrid
palms and sun-tanned bread fruits and dusky
natives cooling their_naked limbs in reedy wa
ters, and tawny tigers lying with red, lolled-out
tongues in the depths of the jungle. The ther
mometer climbed high among the nineties, the
city’s brick walls glowed as if red hot; vainly
patent sprinklers and water-work’s hoses fought
against dust and caloric. In the afternoon, a
breeze sprang up, cool as if it came from kiss-
from the parental home that he might enjoy the j the green sea-waves; but relaxed spirits were
heirship without a rival. Jacob, who seems to ■ s ^ ow reviving under its spell. The editorial
have been as cowardly as he was crafty, was we
know, greatly beset by his tears lest the brother
whom he had wronged, should avenge his inju
ries. Upon Joseph were visited the severest
penalties for being a favorite. Torn away from
his home at a tender age and carried by strang-
brain felt wilted and the editorial body drooped,
langurously, and with the touch of the wind
came a longing to look on wild greenness and to
hear the tinkle of hidden waters.
The wish was unexpectedly gratified. We
were transported to j ust such a spot of green
coolness and hidden waters. The good fairy
ers into a strange land, he had for many years came In'tieshape ’of a friend whoTndsTe?
to endure the painful humiliations of slavery, happiness in giving pleasure toothers, and seat-
and suffer, though underserved, the rigors of by her side, in her pretty, open landau, we
• • • • D U’nViAVn A n A* — il J « f VI
prison life. We may not suppose that the par
ents of our day are more just and discreet than
were those worthies of the olden time. The
improved manners, and above all, the fact that
ontside the dark domains of Mormanism there
is rarely seen the spectacle of the children of
different living mothers it the same household,
render this evil far less now than in the days of
which we have been writing. But still parents
were borne away from the town’s shadeless cen
tre, past the noble mansions and cosy homes of
Washington Street, where family groups in
light, cool dresses sat under the vine draped
porches and looked out at their lovely lawns full
of green shrubbery and winding walks, and ro
ses, and oleanders, freshened every evening by
the spray of the spouting hydrant. Some of
these family groups were most picturesque. The
one gather on the pillared piazza and velvetylawn
in front of the home of Bishop Beckwith was a
pleasing tableau, the lady lying back in her in-
do exhibt preferences among their children, and j valid chair, her pale face touched with the sweet
thereby lay the foundation of feuds and ani- 1 P eace the scene. The good bishop seated with
mosities which continue through generations.
‘Thereby Hangs a Tail.’—Mr. Felix
Smith was holding his first examination in the
‘ Franklin Academy,’ as the little village school
a book in his hands, but his fine eyes looking
smilingly out over the terraced lawn where chil-
dern ran across the velvety grass, and a lovely
girl stood laughing,dressed in some cream-white,
clinging fabric, whose short sleeves displayed
ner round, white arm as she held the hose and
house was called. Mr. Smith felt the dignity of scattere d the sparkling coolness on flower beds
his position, as he stood behind his desk in all *? d gra - 8 £ ? arther °“> was the beautiful Farrow
the glory of white vest and sleek hair, with ,h. ' ^ •"»*“«■—«» of
eyes of the august trustees, and of the villagers
in general, bent npon him, and one pair in par
ticular, peeping from under the brown lashes of
Miss Mary Ann, the delight of Felix’s heart.
So he felt the expediency of ‘showing off,’ and
he elevated his eve-brows, looked stern, bit his
yews and spruce and Norway pines and gold-
green laurels—a winter garden, such as Disre-
ili pictured in Lothair, gently sloping down
from the fine mansion that crowns the hill.
But none of these lovely places was the spot
of wild greenness we craved to see. There was
too much of the trimmed parterre in their beau-
ty. So, we drove on, till suddenly the town was
he was set to mind as she slept in .
crib. Turner was more aspiring. It was the j sadly to mark the difference between the passior,
Monarch of the jungle that his novice pencil
sought to represent. The father ot Buskin, was
a jolly butcher whose shop upon Maiden Lane
was well patronized, and whose heart’s pride
was his boy, Billy.
One morning, when ‘little Billy was about
six years old, the barber of Maiden Lane went
to a certain Mr. Tomkinson’s to dress that gen
tleman’s hair. The boy was allowed to accom
pany his father on this occasion,and one can im
agine him trotting along, grand with the respon
sibility of carrying the barber s scissors or curl-
iisg-ton^s. Mr. Tomkinson was a rich silier-
sm'tb, whose house was filled with many ob
jects of beauty. While the father was at work
frizzling the wig of his grand patron, the boy
was placed on a chair, where he sat in silent awe
gazing with great blue ©yes at a huge silver sal-
ver on the table at his side, adorned with ram
pant lions. The barber’s work was done, father
and son again turned their faces toward the
dusky little shop in the iane. The boy was si
lent and thoughtful all that day; he sat up stairs,
away from the confusion of the little shop be
low, brooding over a sheet of paper. At tea time
he appeared, triumphantly producing his sheet
of paper, upon which was drawn a lion, a very
oood imitation of the one mounted on the sal
ver at Mr. Tomkinson’s. The little barber, un
like some parents whose children have given
early indications of artistic talent, was beside
himself with delight. His son’s vocation was
at once settled in bis mind. Thenceforth when
old customers, looking up from under the glit
tering razor, would mumble through obstruc-
ive lather, ‘Well, Turner, have you settled yet
what William is to be ?’ the barber would smile
proudly, rest tbe ready razor on a thin piece of
brown paper, and reply: ‘Its all settled, sir,
William is going to be a painter. Two or three
years later the door of the little barber s shop
was ornamented by small water-colored draw
ings, hung around among wigs and frizzes, tick
eted at prices varying from one to three shil
lings. Some were copies or imitations ot Paul
Sandby, a fashionable drawing master; others;
original sketches made by Boy Turner, as he
waf then called. His great delight was to get
out side of London into the fields, a ? d *.
pencil in hand, spend whole days tryin to
catch the exquisite effects of color and light and
shade, which touched the youDg artist like a
grand poem.
Gut Bid of the Eats.-Four years ago my
barn was regularly infested with rats; they were
so numerous that I had great tears ot my who e
srain being destroyed by them afte* “ was
housed. But having two acres ot wild pepper
mint that grew in a field ot wheat, alter the
wheat was harvested, the mint was cut anu
bound with it, and drove the rats from my prem
ises. I Lave not been troubled with one since,
nor am I at present, while my neighbors have
lots of them. I teel confident that any person
who is troubled with these pests could get rid
of them by gathering a good supply of mint and
. placing it aronnd the walls or base ot their
barns.
half love half vanity, wLich the admired poet
professed to feel for the pretty Mrs. McLehose,
and that other, earlier love which was the rustic
bard’s inspiration, and which ripened his poetic
genius as the sun unfolds the bud into a rose.
We have read, too, with filling eyes, those ten-
derest of letters—from Luther, the stern cham
pion of truth, to ‘the well beloved Katharine,
mistress of my heart.’ Love-letters they are, in
the full meaning of the word, although the Kath
arine so fondly addressed was his wife and the
mother of his children. And we have seen in
the letters of Napoleon to Josephine, how the
man of consuming ambition had still in his wild,
fiery life a sheltered nook for the sweet blossom
of human love.
Such letters as these are pages from the vol
ume of the heart—pages from the most romantic
episode of its history. The genuine love-letter
is invested with a charm that hangs round it like
a faint perfume. Even when it is written on
bine foolscap, in a cramped, school-boy band,
there is something in the spirit breathing from
every awkwardly constructed sentence, which
gives it a kind of sacredness, and we hardly
find it in our hearts to smile over the ludicrous
shortcomings in chirography, and the original
improvements upon Webster; *
Test ot Amiability.—The true test of
good nature is not how one treats acknowledged
equals, but the deportment towards inferiors.
We have known ladies whose ever ready smiles,
and pleasing manners made them idols of their
own set, while their .supercilious haughtiness
rendered them objects of hatred to those be
neath them in the social grade. We have known
ladies who were voted charming by society, whose
perpetual scoldings among their servants were
terrible to their households. Men too are often
gentlemen in society, while they are exacting,
overbearing and tyrannical at home. It is said
that servants like young bloods of the George
Osborne style, who can accept their services
with a lofty condescension, and curse and storm
at them on the slightest provocation. It is true
they do not regard such me)u with a deference
resembling admiration. Yet we must believe
that they regard with a higher reverence and
esteem, Col. Esmond, who never utters an im
polite word even to the humblest slave, while
he permits no one to take any liberties with him.
The pleasant smile and cheerful word bestowed
upon a dependent are generally more sincere,
and are almost always more appreciated than
are the same marks of favor when bestowed
npon those of equai rank.
An Aberdeen man was telling his symptoms
—which appeared to himself of course dreadful
—to a Scotch medical friend, who, at each new
item of disorder, exclaimed: ‘Charming! De
lightful! Fray go on!’ and when he had finish
ed the doctor said, with the utmost pleasure,
‘Do you know, my dear sir, you have got a com
plaint which has been for some time supposed
to be extinct V I am so glad!'
Alter SW Graduated.— 1 ‘Chris.’
in the FhrenoJournal has some sensible
words to say relation of the ordinary
education of gheir life after school. He
says:
‘Girls are rer the most part, in the be
lief that womsf and final destiny is to
marry. This only ambition cultivated.
Parents, friensociety at large all tend to
inculcate the e. So the education of our
girls goes on; smattering of the languag
es; a little mueat deal of fancy-work; but
not enough oig to enable them to say:
‘I hold withirthe power to gain an hon
orable livelihuy own exertions.' There
is ever the miense of dependence even
for thought, sure there are a few who
have dared taside their allotted sphere,
but these arcong-minded and unfemi
nine.’
Tbe superfcation finished, the daugh
ter waits in t circle for him who is to
fulfill her deieohaps he never comes, or
if so, only to What then ? Ah, if the
parents couli the veil and see ! A mis
erable life spmplainings and bitterness
of soul. Somdeed the mind and body
both a wrecMl for what ? Because, this
hope gone, tation did not supply that
which wouldie cravings of the mind
an aim, a soangible for which to work.
Society is arking out the problem of
the sexes, aig the cause which we es
pouse will nur poor pencil. We have
listened wit'incredulity to the discus
sion of the rf woman’s work and edu
cation, by td doctors of our colleges
and nniversis not they who can settle
the questiovoman’s mental capacity.
We must an: ourselves.
Parents n well the obligations rest
ing upon tlsee that the intellectual
wants of thers are satisfied with prop
er pabnlumtn supply for their daugh
ters, as thejeir sons, work which will
satisfy not ical, but mental cravings.
It is not goome, satisfying work that
wastes enexntal fibre, but rather the
lack of it. I on sweetmeats exclusive
ly cannot bnd it is useless to bring
up the preiess of woman’s intellect as
her normal when her mental diet has
ever tendetd.
Give th# ice, and they will develop
strength a*r. A thorough education,
and speciavitn reference to self-sup
port, cans from womanly dignity.
nity, then, to work out for
‘ name. Then, if they be
ely-appointed position of
will fill it nobly,
and self-sustaining, they
erity a worthy heritage.
snch be not their lot,
walk through life alone,
lip, and knocke'd his rule upon the desk as ^ behind> a ^sonant fragrance filled the air
. poa tae aesk, as | andagroveof wild nines was arm-mH no_ D r,^ Q ^
though he were chairman of a political caucus,
instead of pedagogue of Franklin Academy.
The class of round jackets and white aprons
were reciting a lesson in rhetoric, (they had
been rehearsing every day for a month) and one
of the number had just quoted the lines from
Milton, in which he says ‘ Satan like a comet
burned,’ when Mr. Smith stopped, pulled up
his collar, ran his fingers through his hair,
braced himself and prepared to show off bril
liantly before the admiring eyes of Mary Ann.
‘Satan like a comet burned,’ he repeated in
his most impressive voice. «What a stupend
ous and magnificent comparison ! What a snb-
iimoVoongEi ! Coa aay of roe th«
of resembance between Satan and this brilliant,
baleful, but terrible wonder of the heavens ?'
He did not expect or desire a response to this
question. He wanted to display his eloquence
m describing the ‘points of resemblance’ him
self; but he paused to observe the effect of his
grandiloquence upon the admiring Mary Ann,
and a little red headed youngster of the class
cried out, triumphantly:
‘ ’Cause the comet got a tail, and Satan got
one too.’ °
Felix wilted, and settled down into his neck-
tie, while Mary Ann hid her blushes behind her
fan.
Give the:
themselv
called to
wife and
Strong
will tra
But if, o
and they
The Poetry of Birds.-There is nothing
in nature more calculated to excite those emo
tions of beauty which are wont to express them
selves in the form of poetry than the feathered
travelers of the air. Whether we consider the
graceful elegance of their movements, the bril
liancy of their plumage or the rich melody of
their music, there is something in each to charm
the fancy. Accordingly we find that they
have been much the theme of Poets. Far back
in antiquity, the author of Job, who drew his
imagery from the given scenery of Idumea,
described magnificently the bird of the Desert,’
which ‘lifteth up herself on high and scorneth
the horse and his rider.’ The proud eagle
which carries his flight above the realm of storms,
and delights to make his home in cliffs where
human feet cannot approach, has been sung by
poets of every age. Even the huge condor
which combines the majestic flight of the eagle,
with the filthy habits of the vulture, has more
than once been put in verse. What a weird
interest has the Ancient Mariner thrown around
the wide-sweeping scavenger of the ocean, whose
presence brought propitious breezes to the sails,
and whose unprovoked slaughter brought upon
that crew so long a train of disasters ! A far
more agreeable, if less sublime poetry has been
written of the birds of our own country. Our
merry mimic with her joyous throat and glossy
wings, besides having had consecrated to her
the sweetest of melodies, has been celebrated in
many a stanza. The plaint of the ‘whip-poor-
will,’ excited the Muse of Willis to one of its
sweetest utterances, and the graceful evolutions
of the swan, and the majestic movements of the
heron have not remained unsung. In a word,
every ‘Winged Worshipper’ whither small or
large, presents something which the fancy may
seize and utilize to purposes of Poesy, and few
of them have been passed unnoticed.
a grove of wild pines was around us—spread-
| in 8> symmetrical, silver-tinged pines with a
| ^mk carpet of their ‘shatters’ beneath. On one
side, the grove dropped suddenly to a stretch
, ot low meadow covered with native blue grass
j (it had not been planted, the owner assures us
; which contradicts the theory that blue grass is
| not indigenous with us here.) The steep bank
tapestried with wild ivy that bounded this bit
ot meadow, would have drawn the eye had it not
been attracted by a wonder on the other side
the road—a cataract of green, a succession of
tree-lountains, under which the foot of the hill
seemed to bury itself.
This mass ot cascade-like verdure was a row
of magnificent weeping willows, tranks and
limbs utterly hid by the wealth of dropping
branches Were they wild? Wild growths were
all around them, trees, and bushes, and grass
u “ strati its-juurse betraved.bv
the richer gross that fringes it. But when w'e
had passed the bridge that spanned this stream
we saw a rustic fence running up the long hill’
caught a glimpse through forest trees of a pret-
ty cottage on the brow ot the hill, and saw that
on the other side of our glorious willows, was a
lawn, not clipped and shorn but left to its own
wild ways—its green slopes unterraced, wild
flowers and grass mingling with splendid lillies
and gorgeous gladioli and crimson and crearn-
my-cupped roses. e stopped delighted, feast
ing our eyes and wondering who owned this
lovely spot, when a step sounded near us and
we saw a gentleman approaching just on his
way to the house. He touched his hat and came
up, anct we found that the fortunate owner of
this bit of Arcadia was Mr. Knapp, of this citv
son-in-law and partner of Mr. Me Naught—At
lanta s well-known sterling merchant and
own good friend. At his invitation
and took a closer look ot these
iows.
their livaite fruitful of good works
and croW»est blessings. *
Bobin o his room the other af
ternoon,: that there was only one
match r he box. ‘Now, if that
shouldn ht when I come in,’ solil
oquised :I should be in. So he
tried to good one. It was.
Young Mabiued FoLKS.-When two young
s start out.in life together with nothing
but a determination to succeed, avoiding thein-
vasion of each other’s idiosyncrasies, nor carry-
u.ff- 6 •. < j andl ? near the gunpowder, sympa-
thetm with each other’s employment, willing to
live on small means until they get large facili-
ties paying as they go, taking life here as a dis-
fnnr h!’ n T « f u* nr e y es watching its perils and
ur hands fighting its battles—whatever others
may say or do, that is a royal marriage. It is so
set down in the heavenly archives, aDd the or
ange blossoms shall wither on neither sideof
the grave.
Mr. Hamlin is the oldest Senator now serving-
he is sixty-eight. Mr. Dorsey is the youngest;
he entered the Senate when only thirty years old
and has served five years. Mr. Edmunds, who
is torty-nine, is the Senator who looks oldest.
our
we got out
wonderful wil-
They grew on a low strip of alluvial’ deposit
bordering the brook. Oh, what a cool, Jich can
opy they matte! how delightful to sit under U
on summer noons, with the brook drowsily sink
ing ana that green fountain falling around you
One would feel like a naiad. Mr. Knapp told
t ^? t ot * he fPrays were sixteen feet in
length. And yet, these trees were planted as
little slips, only five years ago. Tfieir marvel
ous growth is due to the richness of the soil
and to the stream that flows at their feet, for
the willow is a deep water-drinker. This sdb-
cies is the Ilex Babylonka—the same that weens
°' er :P;? na P arte ’ s tomb. A grand monument
one ot these trees would be, in itself, such a
one as we would love to think of over the poet
Bryant s grave, he who, in his tenderly rnourn-
ful verse, wished his ‘place of sleep’ to be green
and cheerful, that when his friends came to
visit it, they ‘might not haste to go.’
Mr. Knapp told us of a lady who earnestly
begged him to give or sell her one of these trees
that she m ,g ht transplant it, with all its mighty
wealth of root and branch intact, to the Ceme
tery and plant it over her dear one’s grave
where the water-drinker, even had it lived’
8 8host its ptea8ai
All along the edge of the willows, with their
green mass as a bickground, bloom rare flowers
among the wild water plants; most splendid
among them being a Japan lily—the giant
among all the flowers of that land of wonder-
fui flora. This one lifts its thick stalks clown
ed with clusters of lillies-each flower measur
ing nearly a foot across—white, with a nale
lemon stripe down the centre of each satinnv
leaf, and freckled with red-brown, velvety dots J
Close to this grandiflora, a Malmaison rose holds
out its shell-pink salvers among the grass and
wild growth and a step or two from if lnxuri
ant black berry vines fling their network of
briery sprays over the tops of roses and wild
bushes and spread a ripe feast for the birds
that have aristocratic head quarters in the
willows; while just beyond, a water oak is made
mto a bower by the festoons and flower-clusters
of a Chinese honey suckle. Gladiolis of every
color border the pebbly walk that winds 5
through the trees to the house, to which we
accompanied Mr. Knapp who wished ns to see
some rarer flowers. He meant the roses that
oloomed in beds about the pretty cottage but
he might have pardonably meant, thf three
sweet child-faces that smiled before the door—
particularly the wild rose face of the baby boy
w.T.T‘i“Sr Ul . w Xffi
genius of this pretty home presiding
awa? e fr S ^ r ‘P:r e e r s e t
moon showed its shielS of silver SouSh^he