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m 011ft r . V /10/W j[ ,\p v? VOL. V, J. M. & W B. SEALS,} *£ >i r > 's and HOPiU Kl’OK-\ ATLANTA GA. f MAY 24. 1879. Terms in advance:} 2?nu?e c “o,§?o No. 203, A uaku.\i) or i K5i;xi».snu». I1Y EMMATH.A'KEK KAYE. “How slight a cause may move Dissension between hearts that love.” A garland of friendship is broken:— Its leaves are now sullied with tears, ’Twas only a few words “sharp spoken” llroke this garland—close woven for years. The flowers are dying—they're fading; If I’ity could nurse it with dew, Or sweet love revive it by sighing, This garland would once more be new. The purest of odors it yielded, Its bloom was a kiss on the air; Now Friendship forsakes, and wontshieldit, This gar'audso fragrant and fair. It slept in the snow of the moonbeams— Was cherished by loved ones, at night— It glittered in rays of the sunbeams, This garland of friendship so bright. Come hither, sweet Fancy and silently twine Another gay garland for me; If the flowers be bright, and thy smiles only mine, Then Funri/'s not /•'rietuMiip’t ‘twill be. New Orleans, Faster .Sunday. "FORTY YEARS AGO.” Drill in? Sands from ilie 3ionn(ains and Foot-hills of Xorllioust (it*or?ia. A Brilliant Homance Based Upon Facts. By G. J. N. WILSON. CHAPTER V. One day wh'le tiin -■ engaged his cottage door was suddenly darkened, and he looked around to learn the ■ >iuse. If a peal of thunder, roiling along the would not have been mole surjrr i>< the door-wav stood Willie Montgomery, with open arms to receive him. Willie had been absent at school m New 'i ork for three Ion" years, and for all this time they had not seen eaclYother. Though much changed ill pt rsonal appearance, 11 illies handsome face was known at once, and in an instant they were locked in each other's arms. “Welcome '. thrice welcome, to my woodland home,” exclaimed Julius with delight. “It seems like an age since I saw you. 1 hope you are well, and that you have come to stay with me a long time.” “1 am well, mv dear friend,” replied “Willie, “but I cannot stav with you long on the present occasion. However, father is now in the at- of moving to his plantation near by, and when all things are prop erly arranged in <*ur new home, I hope to be your freouent companion until ! letmn to college*. I have only called in this afternoon to see you and this remarkable house, of which I have heard so much.” , . , , “I thank you for this mark of respect, and the pleasant news you bring, by-tlie wa^, vvliat do you think of mv house ? ' “Well, it is so entirely different from any thing I have ever seen before that I do not know liow to express myself. It is at once, so novel and pictu resque that were I a poet or painter, my first eilort should be to make a description of it. By what name should I call it?” “Azilia. You remember the waif of history you once told me in regard to this name being applica ble to the territory embracing the State of Georgia. 1 like it b cause i' has a smack of romance that seems to be in keeping with w hat 1 intend this spot to be—a garden of rare culture and beauty. \\ hat do you think of th: name yourself ?” “I like the name very much, and it would sound well iu inv poem. \ on say ilitit it is romantic; but do vou know of any romance connected with it l “T do not. The thought entered my mind for some reason that 1 cannot explain. ” • Then let me tell you there is some truth in what seems to you only imaginarion. lama descendant, in a direct line, of sir Robert Montgomery, to whom all this fair land was once granted, as men tioned in the waif of history to which you have just referred.” “How very strange, Willie, that after tlie lapse of more than a century, the tw o names should be again so closely associated. "Yes; it is strange that-one of the Montgomery family should again come in contact with the name of Azilia; but why do you say ‘closely associated? “Look there!” replied Julius, pointing to tlie book-case and picture. “Look there, and tell me whether > ou are in anvwav associated w ith Azi lia r” “Why. do you think me associated with these things, further than to love and admire them?” “Because, it is just like you. No one else had a heart large enough to bestow such a princely gift upon a poor, unknown boy. So tell me, Willie, who left these charming pictures and hook-case here?” "I had hoped that you w ould not mention this subject at all—at least for the present. You, how ever, put the question so directly, it requires me to say that I have some knowledge of the transac tion.” “Then please tell me all you know about it. I hope to l e able some day to pay, at least iu part, the debt I owe my generous benefactor.” “Then, since you are so deeply concerned about the matter, 1 will tell you. Three years ago when 1 entered college, I was placed in a class from which I selected eleven boys for intimate friends and constant companions. I made this selection because they were all nearly of my own age, and so far as I could judge, we were all of the game habits and dispositions. I was fortunate in the selection: for the pleasure of one was the pleasure of the others, and we had all things in common. Through the hours of study, in the recitation room, in our hunting and fishing excursions, at church, everywhere, all were together, enjoying the same pleasures, and feeling tin* same sorrow s. From the beginning’we were the best of friends, and so re main to this day. This long and constant associa tion, without even a silent thought of discord to break in upon the delightful intercourse, became so generally known to the public, that we were, by common consent, called "The Twelve Brothers.” 'Our intimacy presented many opportunities for PROGRESS OF FASHION FROM SIXTEEN' HUNDRED AND SIXTY EIGHT TO EIGHTEEN HU ,'DRED AND SEVENTY FIVE social conversation, and I sometimes spoke of you in such terms as to enlist the interest of the entire class in your behalf. One of them Theodore fen- ton by name, and as noble a fellow as ever lived was sometimes so deeply affected by your history, that he wept like a child. Their interest in you seemed to increase, and one day Theodore, whom we looked upon as something of a leader, proposed that the class write, and present you with a library. The proposition was received without a dissenting voice, and items were proposed and added to the list until it was made out as you received it, except the book-case, which was afterwards added by my father. “The articles being all ready, and intrusted to my care, I wrote the superscription which you have doubtless seen on the fly-leaves of all your books, putting onlv T. T. B., for “The Twelve Brothers. Four weeks' ago the third year of our college course ended, and I soon safely arrived at home with your present. 1 requested my father to convey it to you in such a manner that you would not know from whence it came. This, after placing all t lie articles in the book-case, he cheerfully consented to do, and' while on his way to the plantation, he left them here when you were absent. This is all I have time to tell you now. On some future occasion, I may tell vou more of The Twelve Brothers, and of mv connection with the name of your charming cottage—Azilia.” “Say to your classmates when you meet them again, that I thank them with all my heart foi the invaluable present, and that my daily aim and object shall be to render myself, so far as I possibly caii worthy of the generous consideration of all. To yourself and father, I offer a heart full of grat itude and love, and a friendship that shall be de voted to your service through life. Before you leave me, if not too much trouble, be so kind as to give me a list of the names of The Twelve Broth- el “ Most cheerfully. I will give them to you in the same order that we always place them our selves; and you will n itice that there is something peculiar in the arrangement: 1. Eugene Bartow, 2. Urvale Raymond, -i. Gustavus OrimUid, Edgar Neander Everar-1 Bertrand Arthur Mlolph 1 * Trance, Hillburn, Eustace, Ri isser. Sylvester, Curtis, 10. Theodore Fenton, 11. Orlando, Monroe, 12. Willie Montgomery. “Charming names !” exclaimed Julius, “but what is the peculiarity of which you speak?” “Notice shat th-* inti rial letter of each one's given name, will spell the first name on the pst. Thus, E, U, G. E. N. E B, A, R. T. 0, W, Eugene Bar tow, Now take tli-initial letters of the eight-first sur names, and they will spell the word Brothers— the main part of the name by which we are com monly known. When we consider that some of these students live more than a thousand mil**s apart, and that they were entire strangers before they met in the class room, is it not strange that their names are capable of such a curious combina tion—the letters of the first name running down the list, and with the initials of the others, spelling itself over again, thus blending all in one. This arrangement of our names was made and discov r *d by Annette Fenton, the beaut .tin and accomplish d sister of Theodore. Though I cannot give any good reason for it, there is something about this lovely creature and her brother that always carries my mind to home and yourself, so much so that it makes my head feel dreamy and mystified when 1 think about, it." An indefinable expression pissed over Willie’s feature as he thus disclosed his account of “The Twelve Brothers.” Julius, too was absorbed in thought-, and as if communing with himself only, audibly muttered* “This is very strange indeed. I wish I knew all of this singular history.” “The history of sonic on this list is very peculiar,” replied Willie, thoughtfully. “Sometime, as 1 have already said. I inin/ tell you more, continued he, placing particular stress on the word nut;/, and turning to go. “Please stay as long as you can,” said Julius, earnestiy. “I have already staid over my time; but tins interview has been so pleasant, and this place so romantic, that I am loth to go away. Azilia! Azi lia! I have read the story of Philip Quirl who built [din a house after this fashion while living alone upon an island in the sea. Then there is the cele brated maple, tree of Mat tales, that contains all the parts of a house from the basement floor to the attic stairway. But the first existed only in fancy, and tiie other was fostered by the care of kings and queens through a long series of years. I bad not expected to find the counterpart of these in the swamps of Georgia. But 1 stay too long. Father is awaiting me, and I must hasten on. I will call in as I return, to tell you goodbye, and perhaps, father will accompany me.” “I will he glad to see you both,” said Julius, as Willie turned and went out at the door. The star of hope had never shone so brightly on the poor boy’s pathway ns at this time. The en couragement, he had received, his well filled library, the success attending his * ft i ts to secure a natural house, and th:* prospect of soon having his friend and benefactor for a near neighbor, all combined to make liis heart unusually light. But “Life i • not all sunshine, Nor is it all showers; Over some are scattered thorns, And over others flowers.” As he watched Willie d-.--appear in the distance, he little thought of the dark cloud that was soon to pass over his sunny sky. After reading an hour, he was listlessly looking out at the door, studying over the events of the day. Seeing some one ap proaching, iu* arose from iiis seat to have a better view, when he reeognizt <1 his father with an axe in one hand and a large stick in the other. Mad dened with whiskey, he staggered to the door, say ing— “I have come to teach you better than to stay down here in the swamp like un animal. I intend to break up this business and you shall never have another holiday to spend in your toolish whims, and—” At, this word Julius turned to go out at the win dow, when the inhuman wretch struck him a blow on the head with his stick that knocked him bleed ing and senseless upon the floor. Then taking his ^ axe he began to cut on one corner of the cottage, iiice pierced the ■nine its pleasing 1 i.t when he had given a few strokes, a heavy 1 an- was laid upon his shoulder and a stern voice com manded him to “hold still.” Looking around he found himself confronted by John Montgomery and his son Willie, who, accord ing to promise, had called by upon their return home. As usual with drunk "men, all efforts to induce Latrain to put down his axe, only made him worse. By a sudden movement, however \\ dlie siezed the madman’s arms and holding the,: ill the grasp of a giant, Mr. Montgomery wrenched it from his hands. At this moment a groan w a - heard in the house and going to the door, Willie discovered Julius struggling upon the floor. Hor rified, he raised him to his feet, but the poor ho* could not stand. Willie immediately carried him to his mother and after helping to dress the wound carefully, he returned to the cottage where he had left lus father and Latrain in an argument con cerning tie* intemperate use of ardent spirits Willie was sent home with thi wagon, but theeldei Montgomery remained r<> secure the protection of the suffering boy an*I make an earnest effort to bring at out the reformation of his father. Night came on and that stdl hush of nature which tails so heavily on those who are ill at rest, was broken by tne mad ravings of the drunken father the cries of a sorrowing mother, and the groans of the suffering s* n. At length exhausted nature yields and the mad man fall-into a deep sleep, but the night is stiff made hideous \\ ith his convulsive struggles and unearthly snoring. An entire family is bleeding at. his feet—the work of Lis own hands. J itu the coming day lu* mouses himself ami stares wildly around. Presently his eyes fall upon I the tall and comma! ding form of Mr. Montgomery standing at his bedside. The good man speaks t: him in a kind, but firm tone of voice. In eloquent terms he exhorts him to forsake his cups and be come a sober man—to wash his hands of the blood now upon them. Long and tender was the en treaty. but he remained firm and unyielding. Still the deluded victim clings so what he terms “the glorious liberty of drinking his dram when he pleases." But the .reformer still pleads his cause. His touching appeals are too strong, even for the aban doned. inebriate to withstand, and he solemnly pledged himself new. r to drink another drop of the demon’s drink—alcohol. Anil be it said to his eternal honor, that Melville Latrain nrn-r l>roke fh is prom ise. t or till’ Inst time* Julius Latrain lia:( gon© bom© wounded and bleeding—for tbw last tine bad bis ‘t,,.« ’.,at v"V‘“--'*.l',-* v,— ;;;Y' vomit, a?idthesow lolier wallowing in the mire.’ and where the cry of anguish - heart, joy and contentment be: companions. Through the influence of one good man, the once dreary and desolate home was made cheerful and happy and the sickening songs of drunken revelry gave way to the hymns <*f praise and thanksgiving —the fostering care of a gentle father took th-_- place of a brutal tyrant—the noble ambition of a promising son, made glad the w oods with his cheer ful songs, where once hi* crouched in terror, and with merry laugh and bounding leap he ran to meet the father from whom he once stole away with fear and trembling. In a few weeks the wound on Julius’ head was sufficiently healed to allow h m to venture abroad. His father's reformation was the forerunner of peace and prosperity at home and the harbinger of success in the coming future. Hisskiesbrightened, his spirits, which had recently been so nearly broken, began to revive; and with ail the energy of former days, he again went; to study. Early in the month of February, Julius was sit ting near the M illow Cottage in (h ep meditation, when hearing voices in the distance, he looked, around and was surprised to see bis father, Willie and John Montgomery slowly walking to the Cot tage. He met them with a hearty welcome and politely invited them to go in the house and take a seat. “No.” said the elder Montgomery, “we have but a short time to stay with you tin's afternoon and I will at once explain to you the object of this visit. By the consent of your father and at the solicita tion of others, I have come to inform you that you have been chosen for our teacher during the coin ing summer and to ask you if you will accept the position. There will be friends to sustain you in this new field of labor; and while it wifi give you opportunities to improve your own education and enable you to make something tor yourself; it will also be the means of making you serviceable to others; for you must not forget that the true mis sion of man is to live for one another.” "My dear sir." replied Julius, “your proposition amazes me beyond measure ! I am not prepared to assume the duties of the schoolroom and should consider the attempt to do so nothing less than, mockery. I know nothing of school government, and besides, my education is too limited to under take the instruction of others.” After much persuasion, however. Julius accepted the propsitiou of his friends, though he never fully gained the consent of his own mind to do so. It was arranged that he should open school on the first of the following April and continue for a term of six months. These preliminaries being made, liis father presented him with a written document, releasing him from all obligations to labor on the farm and giving him liberty to choose whatever occupation he might see proper to pursue. When left alone Julius gave himself to medita tion upon the new field of labor that had so sud denly opened before him and the liberty which had been so unexpectedly given him A new era had dawned upon the life of the boy-man—he was free and soon to assume the duties of an occupation that had but few f illowers at that time and place and these like himself were limited in education ami totally ignorant of the discipline of a well regulated schoolroom, while thinking over these tilings, he was much surprised to see M illie Montgomery re turning alone. “I am glad,” said Julius, as his friend came near, “that you have returned so soon, for I feel myself in su-h an awkward position that your presence, as it has always been, will be of service to me this afternoon. I have long cherished the idea of im proving my house and its surroundings and on yes terday matured my plans for doing so; but on carefully thinking them over to day, I found that I did not have time to do the M ork necessary to carry them out. I felt very much dissppointed, my prospects look brighter now and I am full of hope for the coining future. I believe 1 have be fore told you something of my wish to make this a place of rare culture and beauty. I think it capa ble of much improvement in various ways. See vonder beautiful little valley running to the south, I cleared the timber away from it several years HiJWERS couicvoy