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thf flowers ccllectiow VOL. IV J. H. & W B. SEALS, ISprStors. ATLANTA, GA., SATURDAY, AUGUST 31, 1878. TT? P \r C 113 PKR ANNUM IJLilaLo^'Sin advance. NO. 167 mi owx onxiox. BT W. W. MANS'. There are who say she is not beautiful. “Her forehead’s not well turned,’’ cries one. “ The nose Too lnrge.”—“Her mouth ill-chisel'd,” says a third. With these I claim no fellowship. For me, I look not with this mathematic eye On woman’s face. I carry not about The compass and the square—and when I'm asked : “ Is that face line 7’’ draw forth my instruments, And coolly calculate the length of chin— Tli’expanse of forehead—and the distance take ’l'wixt eye and nose, and then ’twixt nose aqd mouth ; And if exactly correspondent it Should not prove jutt to much, two and three eighths Or, one four fifths, disgusted, turn away, And vow “ ’Tis vile! there is no beauty in't!” Out! on this mechanic disposition .' Ix>ok you! that man wot horn a carpenter— He hath no heart—he hath no soul in him, Who thus insults the “human face divine,” Testing its beauty with a vile inch-rule, As he would test the beauty of a box, A chess-board, or a writing-desk ! Oh! no ! It is not in the features’ symmetry— For, choose on earth the most symmetric face. Phidias shall'carve as perfect, out of /stone— That the deep beauty lies ! Give me the face That’s warm,—that lives,—that breathes ! —made radiant Byan informing spirit from within ! Give me the face that varies with the thought— That answers to the heart—and seems the while, With such a separate consciousness endued, That, as we gaze, we can almost believe It is itself a heart—and of itself Both feel, and palpitate! And such is hers! One need but loot on, to converse with her ! Why I, without a thought of weariness, Have sat, and gazed on her for hours. And oft, As I have listened to her voice, aud marked The beautiful flash of her fine dark eye, And the eloquent beaming of her face, And the tremulous glow that when she spoke, Pervaded her whole being, I have dreamed A spirit held communion then, And could have knelt—to worshipl DOSIA — OR — THE TAMING OF A GIEL BT HENRY GRLVILLE. Translated from the French, for the “Sunny South,” BY PROF. Oil AS. F. QAILMAKB. I. The Horse-Guards were temporarily camped at Krasnoe-Selo, near Saint Petersburg. Dinner was almost over at a mess of young officers who were entertaining one of their comrades on his birth day, and the tone of the conversation had reached that gay and noisy diapason which invariably fol lows a gala-repast among young men when Cham paign is freely circulating. One side of the tent had been raised giving access to the last rays of a beautiful June sun. It was about nine o’clock in the evening. Numerous carriages were incessantly passing on the square towards the side opposite the one occupied by the tent of the mess, stopping in front of a small theater, erected for the benefit of this happy youth. Married officers were driving with their ladies in open oarriages, while dreskis—so narrow that they reminded one of a sword-scabbard were occupied by one young officer—sometimes by two, one sitting on the knees of the other, for want of room at his side. But the theater, on that night, did not enjoy the presence of any white cap with red trimming, for the horse-guards had determined to remain in their tent. It was the best place after all; vases full of flowers; fruits of all sorts piled up on crystal cups and pyramids of bonbons crowded the table, and groups of shrubbery had been planted outside to hide the roughness of the posts where the ropes of the tent were secured. All those young men—several of whom were millionaires—had endeavored to find in their camp an echo of their wealthy homes and they had succeeded. They had contributed fifty dollars a piece for the dinner, and at that rate, one can dine confortably anywhere. “ Where could I find a better place than in the midst of my family,” said the hero of the day, stretching himself lazily on his chair, while serv ants were bringing coffee and cigars; “ you are my family, dear friends—my patriotic family— my summer family, I mean, for 1 have a different family for each season,” he added laughing. Joyous exclamations answered him all round. “ Yes, I have a family for each season,” con tinued Pierre Mourief always laughing. “ 1 have my family of Saint-Petersburg for the winter; my family of Kasan for hunting time—I mean the fall—and my family of the Ladoga for the spring.” ‘‘The season of love and mating,” put in a lieut enant. The Colonel who had dined with them—for he was the friend of all these handsome young men— thought the time had come for him to leave. He rose, and the old officers, four or five in number, followed his example. “ Are you going, Colonel ?” asked Pierre. “It is a defection that our Colonel should abandon us at such a time ! Bring the punch,” he cried to the soldiers, in Russian—for the officers were speaking French, which is the adopted language of high-life in Russia.—“ Let us put the Col onel in the presence of the enemy, and he will not abandon bis flag.” “ I have some business,” said the chief, smiling, “you will please excuse me. It is important,” he added so seriously that neither Pierre nor any one else dared to insist. The Colonel went away, shaking hands with all. “ How kind he is,” said a lieutenant, “he leaves jnit in time to be Tegretted.” He is a man of the world,” answered a twenty year old eaptain, already decorated with the Cross of Saint George, “he saw that Mourief is going to say some non sense, and he did not wish to have to punish him on his birthday.” “ I say nonsense ! you ought to know me better,” said Pierre, gravely. All the mess burst out laughing. “ Nonsense ! Do you call it nonsense for in stance, to have a family for each season ? It is the very way never to be alone. Aud you know the Ljrd has said : ‘It is bad for man to bealone.” “Aie you going to preach ? Then jump upon the table.” No, I wouldn't, I might spill the punch.” The punch was burn ing in an immense sil- verbasin, with the horse- guards’ e cutcheon en graved upon it. Small silver bowls bearing the same armorial were in line of battle around the basin. Pierre took the ladle and began to stir up the blazing liquid. I admit a winter family,” said an •fficer; family for hunting time I admit too, but what is the use of & spring family ?” Such a question!” replied Pierre, with an inimitable tone of superiority. “But still what is it for? “ For amusement. On four square miles 1 have nineteen cousins. They are five at the mansion on the left as you go; three in the castle on the right, f^iont a rcle farther; sevan the nlrntation on the river, and four near the lake; in all nine teen. Do you understand now how I pass my time in the spring?” He shrugged his shoulders and stirred up the punch again. “ With which one are you in love ?” asked his nearest neighbor. “ With all!” he proudly replied. Looking u pwards, as if hunting for the solu tion of a problem, he added ; “ That is—no—I am notin love with the eldest, because she is thirty seven years old, nor with the youngest, for she is only seventeen and a half months; but 1 love All the others.” “ Oh ! if you include the babies.” “ The babies ! You ought to know that a twelve years old coquette is the worst of all. As she is supposed to be ignorant of feminine prudery, she pulls you by your sleeve, saying : ‘cousin, why do you not compliment me this morning?’ ” “ But had you any success?” “Success! hem!” Mourief kept silent for a second or two, then he said, lausrhiug all the while : “ A success ! oh! yes, I ran away with one of them.” “ Ran away ! What has become of her?” “Ah ! that’s it; what has become ot her?” A thousand suppositions were exchanged in that atmosphere, saturated with the odors of alcohol and aromatics. Captain Sourof, all at once, turned very grave. “When was that?” he asked Pierre. “ About six weeks ago, during my last leave of absence.” “ AVhy, you never said a word of it. You are indeed a nice comrade !” “ Do you wish to know my story ?” asked Lieu tenant Mourief, putting down the ladle. “ Y’es, yes,” answered the audience. Sourof looked dissatisfied. “Pierre,” said he, in low tones, “mind what you are going to do.” “ Oh ! Monsieur It Comte,” answered Mourief, gravely, “ do not be uneasy; nothing shall offend your chaste ears.” The Count made a gesture of impatience. “ Hear me,” said Pierre to him, “just stop me if you think I am going astray.” “Oh! what good security!” said an officer. “Not so bad,” said Mourief; but you will see that Captain Sourof will be the very one to ask me to continue. Now attention! I begin.” She came upon him suddenly- (See story on fifth page.) ii. The punch circulated freely, cigars, Turkish cigarettes, paquitos wrapped up in corn-straw, in fact everything that can be smoked under the sun was distributed among the mess, an I Pierre began his narration. “ I shall not tell you the place where the cousin I eloped with was living, nor how many sisters ske has—for that could lead you to find out who she is. I r,refer to let you guess among the nine teen Graces, or Muses, at your choice. I will only say that my cousin—Palmyre— ■ ’ “ Palmyre is not a Russian name. ” “ Let us say—Clementine.” “ Clementine is not Russian either.” “ So much the better, since I dont want to tell her name. My cousin Clementine is just seven teen, and she is the worst-raised girl of a family in which all the girls are badly raised. The cause ofthis deplorable education is a curious one. The first child of my aunt Eudoxie—I warn you this is not her name—was a girl extremely ugly. In order to counteract the influence that such a defect might have had on her future happiness, nothing was spared to make her possess all the virtues that can adorn a woman, But aunt Prascovie—. “ Eudoxie,” corrected a cornet. “ Virginia,” replied Mourief, with an impertur bable coolness. “ My aunt Virginia is very un lucky. When she makes pickles they are always too salty; when she preserves fruit, she never uses enough sugar. This time she treated her daughter as she does cucumbers, with the differ ence that instead of salt it was sugar that she lavished on her. In other wows she raised her daughter.. with -such yadUd- her with so many perfections and 'Accomplishments, that the dear girl was literally insupportable. This first cousin of mine was so perfect that her mother declared her second child would be raised in an entirely different way. And she kept her word. My aunt has had since a nice collection of girls, and every one of them was left free to raise herself as she pleased. You may well believe that there are curious specimens among them.” “ Can’t we see them?” asked an officer. “ No, my dear friend,” answered Pierre. “My cousin Clementine is the most curious of all. Y’ou may have an idea of it by a single feat. When she sees on the table a favorite dish, she waits until everybody has taken of it; then, while the servant holds it for her; she passes her rosy finger over her velvet tongue, and traces a circle with that finger all around the brim of the dish, saying : “ ‘ The balance shall be mine, for nobody will want it now.’,” “ Oh !” uttered the scandalized audience “ And she eats it all, for I assure you she has a remarkable appetite. Such is the cousin I eloped with. If you ask me why I prefered her, while even among her sisters there are some with better manners, 1 have but one answer : she is the prettiest of all.” “ Uf a fair complexion?” asked some one. “ Brunette, with blue eyes and eye-lashes that long.” Pierre pointed to his arm as high as the elbow. “Tall?” “ Very small, with Liliputian hands and feet— a waist as tiny as a thread—and smart as— “Smarter than you?” put in Count Sourof, who was getting interested. “ Women are always smarter than men,” sent- entiously answered Mourief. “ Some men pretend to the contrary, but—.” He made an eloquent negative gesture by passing several times his index before his nose. They all assented. “ Well,” continued Pierre, “my cousin is a first rate rider and looks beautiful on horseback. She owns a vicious horse, as tall as the Colonel’s, but very thin; one of those horses which always kick. This one follows in the path of its breed; he kicks upon the least pretense and even without any pretense. You ought to see Clementine perched upon that fantastical animal, bowing at every jump. While that Apocalyptic beast is frantically kicking all around, my cousin looks as much at ease as when she offers you a cup of tea.” “ That’s a true woman,” remarked an officer. “ I tell you she is,” answered Pierre, “ and you will soon see it. About six weeks ago—it was in the first part of May—I was seated on a bench in the garden; a bench made out of a long plank supported only at each end, so that it is flexible in the center.” “One of those swings with a vertical motion,” “ Exactly. I was there, ligh.ly swinging up and down, like a doll at the end of a string of gutta percha. I remember yet that the bench was shaded by a large tree, from which caterpillars were fre quently falling. All at once I heard a great noise like the slamming of glass-panel doors, and at the same time I perceived a sort of a white cloud tumbling down the porch. I must tell you that the porch has nine steps, and the steps are so high that when I climb them my knees come in contact with my chin. You may imagine the dif ficulty one experiences when coming down. Well, the white cloud landed on the lawn, stopped a second, then ran again and threw itself into my arms with such a force that I had a narrow escape from falling over the bench.” “ ‘ Oh! cousin, I am very unfortunate,’ said Clementine, shedding tears. “ I had caught her in my arms, but did not dare to keep her there—for the windows seemed to look furiously at us. I seated her on the bench and took a place at her side. “ ‘ What is the matter, cousin?’ said I, ‘ tell me of your sorrows.’ “ She is always pretty, but particularly so when she cries. ‘“Mother will cause me to die of grief,’ she said, wiping her eyes with her handkerchief, that she had rolled up into a plug no larger than a thimble; ‘ she forbade me to ride Bayard, hereafter.’ “ ‘ Y’our big horse ? ’ “ ‘Yes, my poor Bayard, that loves me so much and is so gentle ;’ “ My idea on that point differed with that of Clementine, but I kept prudentlj silent. “ ‘ Mother hates him; I dont know why. Only to be contrary, I sup- p o s e. I acknowledge that he kicks occasion ally, but who is perfect in this world ?’ “ I assented to that philosophical truth.” “ -Y’esterday Bayard was not well disposed. The Justice of the 1’eBce had come with us as far as the edge of the forest.’ “ < I know it. I was there myself.’ “‘Oh yes. Well! when j we crossed the sandy embankment, Bay a r d kicked all around, and the Justice of the Peace was covered with dust. How funny he looked!’ phe added laughingly, ‘ didn’t he swallow enough of that sand ? I wish that would prevent his talking so harshly to his poor peasants—for he treats them very bad.— Mother is furious. She says Bayard is an ugly beast and that he shall be made to pull the big^ udgsuCt*e;"yo.i Biov-vv; -.cry water in from the spring yonder in the valley?’ “ ‘Yes, I know it. ’ “ ‘ But I hope that he will soon break it into pieces.’ “ ‘ Oh! you do !’ “Notwithstanding what mother says, Bayard is not an ill-natured beast. It was no fault of his if the Justice of the Peace was fed out of sand yes terday.’ “ ‘IIow is that V “ ‘ I made him kick. It amuses me and I h&'fe been teaching him that trick.’ “ ‘\ T ou had a very docile pupil in him,’ said I, knowing not what to answer. “ ‘Y'es. I believe he was naturally incline to it,, though, but he is very obedient.’ “ ‘For these sorts of things at least.’ “ Clementine did not pay attention to my remark.” “ ‘ I hate that Justice of the Peace,’ she contin ued, ‘doyou knew why?’ “ ‘No, cousin.’ “ ‘Because he is a suitor; and that’s what makes mother mad at me.’ “A faint shudder of jealousy stung my heart. Thus far I had considered Clementine as a foolish but charming child. The shadow of that Justice of the Peace changed my opinion at once.” “ ‘A suitor for you?’ said I, inquiringly.” “ ‘For me or for Sophie, or for Lucrece, or for’ —she named a few more sisters—‘lie is a general wooer—you understand me, cousin.’ “The idea of a—general wooer— was net so alarming, still I was uneasy yet. Clementine, perfectly oool now, had set our swing in motion and her foot was striking the ground occasionally to give us a new impulse. Unconsciously I imit ated her, and for a while we swung silently.” “ ‘Say, cousin,’ she exclaimed all at once, ‘do the horse-guards marry ?’ *• ‘Well, certainly, cousin, very seldom, though.’ “ ‘Very seldom !’ repeated Clementine, looking at me with her pretty blue eyes not yet dry from her recent tears.” “I mean there are many officers who never marry, but we have married officers too.’ “ We kept swinging, and a large caterpillar fell among her hair.” “ ‘Excuse me, cousin,’ said I, ‘you have a cat erpillar ou your head.’ “ She bent her lovely little head towards me, and I endeavored to take off this stupid insect from among the curls where it had crawled. It was not an easy task. The hateful worm stretched or folded its legs in such a way that I was in dan ger of pulling the beautiful hair I held in my hands-which, by the way, were trembling con siderably.—At last I succeeded. “ ‘It is done now; cousin,’ said I.’ “ I felt I was blushing all over. She had not moved, “ ‘Thanks,’ she said, resuming our swinging. “Some invisible elf was surely meddling with our affairs, for a second caterpillar fell, but on Clementine’s shoulder, this time. Although I picked it up as quick os possible, I felt the soft touch and warmth of my cousin’s rosy skin, through her cambric bodice.” “‘I believe we have a shower of insects here,’ she said coolly, looking up at the tree. “ ‘Let us go,’ I timidly said, for I had a great desire to take a walk with her in the garden, out of sight of the windows. “ < Oh ! no,’ she replied, ‘I like to swing; if any more caterpillars fall on me, you will take them off.’ ‘“I am perfectly willing, cousin. « So saying I struck the ground with my foot, and up and down we went again. After a short time, Clementine asked me, without stopping the swing or raising her eyes : “ • Is it true, cousin, that I am so wicked V “ ‘Wicked! Not at all; you are only—a little— whimsical.’ “ ‘ Mother says I am hateful; that nobody can love me.’ “ ‘ It is not so,’ I retorted vehemently. “‘Do you love me yourself ?’she asked cand idly, at the same time piercing my eyes with her own. “ ‘Y’es, I love you,’ cried I, intoxicated by her look. “Bayard, the caterpillars, the justice of the peace and the swinging, all had contributed to make me lose my head. “ ‘ There, now, didn’t I say so ?’ she exclaimed triumphantly. ‘Then, cousin, marry me.’ “ My dear comrades, when I think of that morning, I am exceedingly ashamed of my con duct.” “ Y’ou have no reason for that," said Count Sourof. “ It may he your opinion; still I think I have. But as I have told you I had lost my self-control. “ ‘Yes, derr child, I will marry you,’ I exclaim ed, stopping so suddenly the motion of our swing that we both almost fell on our face. I caught her with my arm around her waist, but she man aged to slip out of my hold, gave a vigorous start to the swing, and up ! up ! we went again. “ ‘ When ?’ she asked. “ ‘Whenever you please. 0 Clementine, how did I not understand sooner that I loved you!’ “ I talked to her that way for at least a quarter of an hour, she listening atteatively, smiling and evidently satisfied. “ ‘We will go to Saint Petersburg,’ she inter rupted. “ ‘Yes. dear, and to the camp.’ “ ‘To the camp ! Oh ! how amusing it will be.’ ” A burst of laughter interrupted Mourief. “ Is it about me, or about her that you laugh ?” said he, rising from his chair. He had interspersed his narration with several glasses of punoh, aud his eyes were showing dis positions far to be peaceable. “Remember that I dont want either her or me to be laughed at.” “We laugh about the camp,” said Sourof, pul ling him by his sleeve. “Go on with your story.” “I want you to understand that the subject is a serious one.” ‘ Go on, go on !” knowj>v,e v.-jre letrotheuv ,T 't Clementine Laid to me . “ ‘Dont tell mother about it; you know how contrary she is. We will tell her after while.’ “Idid not answer a word, but all those unex pected events had made me forget that my leave of absence was good for only one more day.” ( TO BE CONTINUED. ) COMMUNISM. The world is now, as it has ever been since its creation, divided into two distinct classes—those who are willing to work and those who are will ing only to see others work. This division nat urally constitutes another, which follows as a natural sequence, to-wit: Those who are thrifty and have property and the blessings and advan tages growing out of its possession, and those who have not bnt are willing to have, if it can be possessed through any instrumentality except work. AH wealth is produced by labor; noth ing without it. Whether it be a bushel of wheat, a stone front house, or a gold or silver dollar, it is the direct result of the only instrumentality which God in his wisdom has given unto man, for realizing the substantial blessings of life ont of the elements that surround ns; the only way of producing anything worth having, and of es caping the discomfort and wretchedness of poverty and want, and that instrumentality is labor. The thing that costs nothing is worth nothing. The thing which everybody can have for the taking is substantially useless, if we ex cept the air and light, which man cannot cre ate and which have been freely given. But the things which mankind can and do produce are worth the money necessary for their production —no more, no less. The amount of gold which is worth a dollar is worth it simply for the same reason that a dollar's worth of corn is worth a dollar, because it requires a dollar’s worth of la bor to produce it. ll by some scientific revolu tion a process conld be discovered by which gold could be produced at one-half of its present cost in labor, its value would at once decrease in that proportion. It follows, then, if these facts are as stated, that something cannot be gotten from nothing and be gotten honestly; that no means ever have been or ever can be devised by which wealth can be obtained in sloth; that bread can not be eaten in idleness, nnless it is done at the expense of someone’s labor,and nnless someone is wronged for the benefit of another. Upon what principle of justice or equity can this be claimed ? If one man by his industry and econ omy shall acquire a competence, and another by his idleness orchis folly or his extravagance, or all oombined, shall remain poor, what claim has the latter for a division of property by the for mer? What ground of complaint has he that he is poor and the other is rich ? Why shonld he sit in his rags and filth, the legitimate inher itance of his laziness, and rail at the man, who in every respect is his superior, as a Shylook, a bloated bondholder, a shark, or that other favor- i'e epithet of the modern demagogue, ‘a minion of the money power.’ Suppose all men shonld adopt the philosophy of this class of reasoners, what would become of the world ? Is it wise to offer a premium upon idleness and improvidence and pat the brand of obloquy upon industry and economy by saying, even in the most indirect way, that he who does not work is as mnch entitled to the savings of labor and frugality ns he who earns them ? And yet this is just what the modern communistic el ement is virtually doing, and while toleration is one of the proudest elements in onr theory of government, there is a point beyond which it is neither wise or prudent to go. The Female clerks in the Treasury are much excited because the money coming from the yellow fever districts is not disinfected before it is given to them to oount.