Newspaper Page Text
VOL. V.
H. & W R SEAL
) EDITORS AND
• f PROPRIETORS.
ATLANTA, GA., JULY 26, 1879.
Terms in advanced gfiS^SK;,* 3 -^. No. 211.
THE ASGIiES'K WISH.
I in these flowery meads would be,
These ehrystal streams shall solace me;
To whose harmonious bubbling noise
I, with my angle, would rejoice.
Sit here, and see the turtle-dove
Court his chaste mate to acts of love;
Or, on that, ban!., feel the west-wind
Breathe health and plenty; please my mind.
To see sweet.dew-drops kiss these flowers;
And then washed oIf by April showers:
Here, hear my kenna sing a song:
There, see a blackbird feed her young,
Or a laverock build her nest;
Here, give my weaiy spirits rest,
And raise my low-pitched thoughts above
Earth, or what poor mortals love.
Thus, free from lawsuits and the noise
Of princes' courts, I would rejoice;
Or, with my Bryan and a book.
Loiter long days near Shawford brook;
There sit by him, and eat my meat;
Thera see The sun both rise and set;
There bid good morning to next day;
There meditate my time away;
And angle on, and beg to have
A quiet passage to a welcome grave.
TENDER AND TRUE:
-OR—
The Wheel of Fortune.
BY ISIOGENE.
CHAPTER I.
LOVED ASL’ LOST.
‘Will you play for me, Hiss Van Buren?’
‘What shali I play, Mr Cleveland?’ ‘
‘I prefer a.song, of course. Let it be my old £
vorite—“Tender ami True. -1
‘As you like; hut do you know your choice of f
voritesis an old one? Tender and True is as old t
the Sentrwb bt.ic—m.™.,*- • «» s
‘do be it. Like old wine it. improvesage. If HOT
am partial to these old time love ballads, with their
simple yet touching airs and the unforced harmony
of words and notes. They are hut musical echoes
to the heart throbbing under the spell of love’s
young dream.’
‘How poetic! You evidently know whereof you
speak. Mr. Cleveland.’ , , . ,
He flushed ever so little, but quietly took lus place
at the piano to turn the music for her.
Miss Van Buren’s white lingers swept over the
keys, and her clear bird-like voice lose in a volume
of entrancing melody as she sang the quaint oldbal-
la i which Arthur Cleveland so much admired.
They formed an interesting picture, these two. It
na., a mild, midsummer day: '.he birds were sing-
in" joyously in the trees outside, and all nature was
throbbing with a bonvancy of spirits imparted by
glad sunshine and pure atmosphere. Gentle breezes
-oft.lv stirred the lace window-cnrtains,as they stole
in to'kiss the green tendrils of the delicate house-
piants that flourished in the recesses. The room it
self presented a perfect poem of refined harmony
and cool coziness, with i's Hilton carpet of pansies
and forget me-nots, its luxurious chairs and divans,
iis marqueterie table, and the pretty cabinets adorn
ed with grotesque bric-a-bric. It was an apart
ment whose every detail denoted that delightful
abandon and languid refinement which are the ap-
pendages of wealth and cultivation-
But the couple at the piano were the chief attrac
tions. Helen Van Buren was not what a practical
observer would call beautiful, yet to those who
knew her she was always so. Her eves, dark, lus
trous brown, were soft and bright; her mouth rich
and ripe, and her teeth veritable rows of pearls.
The delicate ehiseled nostril, and short upper lip,
denoted high breeding, indications which were fur
ther borne out by the perfect symmetry of her form.
Attired in a miracle of cool, breezy drapery, her
square-cut bodice revealed a neck and throat of «Ju-
no-like contour and dazzling whiteness.
Anhur Cleveland stood beside her, leaning slight
ly forward with that deferential lounge peculiar to
well bred men in the presence of ladies. He was
handsome, tall and muscular, with slumberous gray
eves that could fire and light and flash enough when
occasion demanded, with a golden moustache droop
ing gracefully over a firm, dignified mouth- and
blonde hair cropped short to his splendid head.
He was a gentleman—a man among men—but
poor. True, he was the principal lawyer, and per..
ha|is the only lawyer of marked ability, in the slow-
going village of Waterloo, but as Waterloo was one
of the last places on earl h to enrich a struggling at
torney, or any other class of business man, by its
patronage, the growth of his income was very
gradual. Yet he had many friends among the rich
people of the neighborhood, among whom were the
Van Burens, of Woodlawn, as their elegant coun
try seat was called. Mr. Vail Buren was a Wall
St reet Broker, and Helen his only child.
Poor though he was, Arthur Cleveland was al
ways a welcome visitor at Woodlawn.
‘There,’ said the young lady, as she finished the
song and turned smilingly toward him. ‘I have
bowed to your imperious will—are you satisfied?’
•Not quite.’ reulied Arthur, hesitatingly; and he
returned her glance with one full of beseeching ten
derness. ‘Miss Van Buren, I have come here to-day
with the determination of learning my fate. I can
no longer refrain from saying to you what I have
long wished, yet almost feared to say. I love you
wii h m v whole heart and soul 1 Why do you start?
Is it possible that you have not seen—that you have
not understood? Oh, Helen, can you not love me a
little—just a little—enough to give me hope?’
He was pale and nervous; his tone low, eager, and
passionate. But the lady rose to her feet with a
quick, deprecating gesture, blanching to the very
bps with the trepidation and despair that swept
like a tidal wave over her soul.
‘You must not utter such words to me!’ she said
hastily ‘It is wrong of you—it is wrong of me to
listen' You ask an impossibility. Before Heaven,
I did not dream of this. I—I thought you knew
that I was engaged'.’
‘As good as engaged, at least. My father desires
me to marry the man of his choice, and I have
Arthur stood for a moment as if stunned by a
blow biting his moustache am. looking miserable to
the last degree. The sun had gone behind a cloud,
and .he gloom of a lo-t hope had settled over his
hear- like a funeral pall.
; together, their hearts throbbed in an ecstacv of
happiness—a happiness too pm-e. too deep, too holy
foi words and minute after minute sped bras
th«> sto..d tnere in silent, rapture.
f la „ st th e>'came to talk the matter
over. Arthur briefly explained.
a ril1 ? Helen. I made a fortune in
Australia. T returned to America, little expecting
State of y< fF stl i ,>ul ' wlu ' n 1 learned the true
state of affairs, and that Woodlawn was to be sold
1 sent an agent here to buy the nlnce. He did sol
and it is mine. I intended to make vou a present
of your old home, b„t now I-I guess' there is „o
need. H e will occupy it together, won’t we, Hel-
‘Yes, Arthur.’ And they did.
How a Queen Can Work,
A GLiMPSE AT THE DAILY ROUTINE OF ENG
LAND'S SOVEREIGN.
'j Q L ' Ben Victoria as a Woman of Business and a
Pattern Constitutional Monarch.
! Edmond Yales in the London Times.]
e Prim-e <y!n aIi ’/‘CVV u ," re ess " ntial work
r i 1 luce ( onsort did for her tiniest v the
reign does for hers etc. and she only suoce-ds in ae-
Osb!!n 1 e°o 1 r t ’i 1,!y s Windsor* or
N-otlnnd. the queen has special
* iT w L <i ; , - vs Jor particular departments
" ,k - haniTlv a<i m ,. jstratioi, and imperial
hiet heads under which
«»• Her Majesty lms
- throughout the whole
ains by an active eor-
■» f ° in the week
There are f " “ bselit relatives.-
exacting
fexp,
dy pr
>nd special
days for p;
work. Ear
oily adinii j
istration ai
'e the two el
duties in:
iy tip rank
ve family ■
•Oil •lections
>pe. These
1 she main':
b nee, and
ill" Whole ,
uriti/ig letters
'.•private affair
•counts, all b:
siiditui
■■sen ted
- tlr
er, persoi
tween this comprehensive ole
til active dutle
. By not les
- bankers pass-books, ad
re. in some shape or oth-
Queeti Midway be-
s of occupations and
imperial -•row?, it.,
should
to her
sphere of life. She had only ted him because
he was sociable and pleasant, 1 P- served to fill up
the blank moments that otheP ^at must have hunt
heavily upon her hands. Sun *..frshe could
him now.
sev W’intri
hite hands. Kel
sey IHutndge ! How distasipj^l to her that name
uvi in.,iv*cv. mu* v .oktoitc wmu snare
, the summer was all-^ it ended, and Kel-
tridge would oosnein Y , ittmber.
She stopped, and clenehed fhi i' vhit ’ ’
ay lUiutridge ! How distasitf *1 t<>
dined
Then you love him?’
Helen flushed haughtily.
‘That is hardly a fair question, Mr. Cleveland. I
may have some preconceived notions as to the man
I would marry, but whether Mr. Wintridge does or
does not cover the ground, is a matter that cannot
effect your interest.’
Arthur smarted under the rebuke, but he answer- .
ed with dignity: j had suddenly become ! Ho'-n. .e hated the man
‘I crave yo .r pardon, Miss Van Buren. I did not , himself ? How she wished he Would never show
mean to be impertinent, but a man whose only j his face at "Woodlawn ! But why this chunge in
hope of happiness is crushed at a blow ought to be 1 her feelings ? She could not explain it; she dared
excused, I think, for a slight forgetfulness that was ; not try.
not intended to offend. I see that niv case is hope- j But there was no use thinking about it, and te
les.-., and will not persecute you further. I have j ing miserable. Mr. Cleveland was gone, and there
the honor to wish you a very good morning.’ was an end of it; and Mr- Wintridge would come,
‘Stay!’ She went forward and laid her hand on and she would marry him! So she broke into a
his arm, her whole mautier changing in an instant, i rollicking laugh, which somehow changed into a
‘I—I did not mean to he unkind. Please for
me! As you have been one of my most faithful
friends, I will tell you candidly that I do not love
Kelsey Wintridge. nor any one else! But that does
not alter the case in the least. I believe him to be
n gentleman, and—and they do say love comes af
ter marriage. But! should not many him if I
were permitted to have my own way. You know
mv father’s will. I need not say more,
bye.'
torrent of sobs, and the next thing she knew she
was lying on the sofa face downward, crying as if
her heart would break !
But never afterward did she give way to her emo-
tions in this helpless manner. If she had read her
heart wrong at the first, it was too late now to rec
tify the mistake. There was nothing to be gained
by weak repining. If she was destined to suffer,
Good- i she would suffer in secret, nor let the pitiless world
j know aught of her woe.
It was enough. Arthur saw at once that his case j Days and weeks went by, and when September
was lost. She did not love h m any more than she j came Kelsey Wintridge appeared at Woodlawn.
did Wintridge, and the latter held the trump cards, • elegant, handsome, debonair. Helen had been
being a millionaire and her father's choice. He j somewhat indisposed; at least, that was always her
said good-bye, and rushed from the house— rushed | excuse for presenting a very pale face to her father
h ick to his lonely office, to lock himself in with Itis t at breakfast, dinner and tea; and of course she was
thoughts, and ponder over his misery. I not expected to be very brilliant. But, for all that,
The next day when Mr. Van Buren came up from | Wintridge proposed at the earliest opportunity.
the city to spend Saturday and Sunday at Wood-
lawn, Helen went to him in the library, and said:
‘Papa, Arthur Cleveland loves me.’
The old gentleman turned upon her like a flash.
‘What are you raving about, girl?’
‘He was here yesterday and proposed to me.
‘ What! That young lawyer?’
‘Yes, papa.’
,The impudent scoundrel! Did he dare to do
that?’
Whata trial it was to her i She had resolved to
accept him without opposition, but she found the
task harder than she had anticipated. She could
not make the sacrifice yet. She was not prepared
to meet it. She told him he would have to wait;
she could not give him an answer before Christinas.
He persisted, begged, implored, nut could not alter
her determination. He went down on his knees
and pleaded with her. She was firm as a rock.
‘lVait till Christmas,’ she said; ‘and in the niean-
‘ Why, there is nothing so remarkably strange time you may hope foi the test.’
about it, is there, papa?’
Strange! Why it's a downright insult! I
thought he had some manhood about him. My
goodness, Helen, I hope you did not encourage him ?’
‘No.’
‘You do not love him?’
‘No.’
‘That is fortunate, for if you loved him a thou
sand times you should never marry him! He is
poor—poor as a church-mouse! Confound him! I
thought he was a sensible fellow, who knew his
place. These poor people presume too much on
slight favor. I’ll let him know that my daughter
is to wed with one of her own rank, and is not to
be persecuted with bold-faced proposals from pen
niless fortune-seekers! Never mention his name to
me again, Helen.’
Mr. Van Buren was in a high dudgeon, and as
Helen quitted his presenee and crept up stairs to
her own room, she was conscious of feeling deeply
pained. And why ? She could not tell.
CHAPTER II.
Miss Van Buren:—No doubt you will think*me
weak to take this method of bidding you good-bye
forever; but I frankly confess that I have not the
courage to see you again, or to face my disappoint
ment on its own grounds. When this you read I
will be miles away on my journey to Australia,
where I shall end my days amid scenes that will
not call up recollections of the bitter past. That
your future life may blossom with peace and hap
piness, and that you may never know the pangs of
unrequited love, shall ever be the prayer of
•Arthur Cleveland.’
This was the letter Helen received one week sub
sequent to her rejection of the young lawyer.
She was alone when she read it; alone in her
boudoir; and as she scanned the words again and
again, the color receded from her proud face, till it
partook of the blank whiteness of a marble image.
She dropped into a chair bv the window, and gazed
vacantly out- upon the lawn. Why had every
thing lost its brightness so suddenly ? Why did
the sunshine seem a mockery ? Why did the birds
That was the end of it. The subject was never
broached again. The fickle swain went back to the
city, became enamored by another young lady
wooed and won her within a month, and before
Christmas was far away ou his wedding tour !
Helen wassecretly glad: Mr. V;.n Buren was be
side himself with rage. He did not blame his
daughter, but visited sombre maledictions upon the
luckless head of young Wintridge. It was an in
sult to his daughter, to himself, and to his family
name, and he could never forgive it.
Of course, Helen had no luck of offers. She was
one of those rare beings whom inen dream about,
rave over, and worship unreasoningly. More than
one man, who had hitherto found it an easy task to
turn aside the shafts of • he rosy archer, laid their
hearts and fortunes at her feet, and begged her to
take them. But she refused one and all, and as
sured them she could not give her hand where her
heart did not go. Her father finally remonstrat d:
she was throwing away too many excellent oppor
tunities of becoming perm mently settled in life;she
must consider. His words had no effect upon her
whatever. He became incensed, swore roundly,
stormed and raved and threatened, but all to no
purpose. She drew herself up proudly as she an
swered :
‘I how no longer to the hollow mockery of wealth
and station. If lever marry, it will be to the man
I love !’
And nothing could change her.
Five years went by: five long, weary dragging
years to Helen Van Buren, whose heart had not
yet found its happiness. Only five years ? It
seemed a decade to her. And in all that time not
a wort! of news had ever come to Waterloo or to
Woodlawn, of Arthur Cleveland.
It was a day in June when the saddest calamity
of all fell upon Woodlawn. Mr. Van Buren came
home from the city a ruined man. He had made a
false move and gone to wreck. In one fell hour
his entire fortune had teen sucked out of his hands
in that vortex of speculation where it was accumu
lated—Wall Street. The proud, the aristocratic
Van Burens, were poverty-stricken.
Mr. Van Buren never recovered from the blow.
He laid down on a bed of sickness and died in a
away in the cemetery, sht' was c«mp/!'ed to leave
her home. She no longer had a right to remain at
Woodlawn. The place she had loved so well, to
gether with everything else belonging to her fath
er, must go to settle his debts.
Homeless, penniless, alone, she knew not which
way to turn. A generous family in the village,
however, kindly extended to her the hospitality of
their home, until such time as she could be able to
procure means of supporting herself- and she tem
porarily took up her abode with them. Helping
hands were held out to her, and she was soon earn
ing a livelihood by teaching music.
Woodlawn was to be disposed of by public sale.
When the day of the sale arrived, the kind-hearted
old lawyer who had charge of the affairs asked
Helen if site would like to be present She declined
with a shudder. Eire had not the heart to go there
and see the old home pass it .to other bauds.
So Woodlawn was sold.
‘One man—a stranger—bought the place just as
it stands,’ said the old lawyer, when he called on
Helen the next day. ‘Every stick of timber, every
rod of Land, every article of furniture, and every
thing else appertaining to the place. He allowed
nothing to be removed, but purchased all in a lump,
paying an exorbitant price for the whole. He is a
stranger in this neighborhood: nobody seems to
know who lie is; but he is very wealthy He will
take possession soon. If you would like to take a
last look at your old home.'Miss Van Buren—and I
am sure you would—we will go over to Woodlawn
this afternoon, and make a tour of the premises.
Will you go ?’
Yes, she would go. She would wander once
more through the rooms so familiar to her; through
the house where she had known u father’s protec
tion, and every luxury that money could procure.
She would look upon the objects so dear to her for
the last time.
That afternoon she walked over to Woodlawn
with the lawyer. They entered the house; and
while her companion sat down in the breezy hall
to read his newspaper. Helen wandered alone
through luxurious rooms of which she had once
been mistress. Sadly dreaming, her brown eyes
wet with tears, she paused in the apartment where
Arthur Cleveland had to d her the story of his love,
that golden summer day more than five years ago.
What a host of recollections were conjured up by
the few familiar articles associated with that last
interview. There was the piano, reminding her
how she had played and sung for him; the piano
against which he had leaned, tall, handsome and
manly, while he told her how much he had dared
to hope.
Ami there—yes, there was the music on the rack
—his old favorite song—‘Tender and True.’ It, was
a fitting coincidence for her dreams. She was sure
she had not left it th< re. Some one had been tam
pering with the inu-i<\
Moved by an irresistible impulse, Helen took her
place at the piano and swept her fingers over the
keys, arousing a flood of harmony. She would
sing the song once more—the quaint old ballad he.
loved so well—once more, and never again. Her
voice rose clear and sweet, but full of touching sad
ness it had never known before, as the soft strains
trembled from her lips.
‘If he never comes back from a foreign shore,
If he never comes hack to woo,
Tiie lassie he loves, the Essie fair,
With bonnie blue eyes and golden hair,
Her heart is still tender and true !’
She finished the song, and then, us if the words
were wrung from her by force, she cried out in ag
onizing accents:
‘Oh, Arthur, if you only knew ! If you could
only come hack and tell me once more that you
love me 1’
‘I am here, Helen,’ said a deep, musical voice be
hind her. ‘Shall I rejieat the old story ?’
She sprang to her feet with a scream, as the fa
miliar voice fell upon her ear.
There he stood before her—Arthur Cleveland—
tall and handsome as ever, though bronzed by
travel, looking just as he did five years ago, with
his golden moustache, his gray eyes, his muscular,
manly form.
‘Oh. Arthur—Arthur 1’
‘Helen, my darling ! My queen ! My own for
ever !’
He was holding her close, close it his strong
arms, and raining kisses on her lips. Dressed close
’quire consider*
'.’V-AVtmiriiHcier.
S .. >*V' ■■<>•'; ea oflfctrders in conn eta som? theratl-
fieatifcio! measures passed in Co' tin! purl aments;
s m fFVnl pr emulations; some iortimentsthat re
late tb the assembling, porogation of dissolution
ot Mieinf-wrial Parliament at Westminster. Others
are forms for giving effect to treaties, for extending
tiie term- of patents, for granting charters or corpo
ration to companies, for proclaiming ports and
I- its, for deciding causes on appeal, for creatiug ec
clesiastical districts, for granting exemptions from
the law of mortmain. Then tl-ereare private letters
of Ministers to Her Majesty; every parliamentary
chief of every department ol'ilie state periodically
reports himself and the condition of hi.-office to the
Queen !'he penmanship and preparation of these
papers it- a task of some ceremony. Koch one com
mences the same way: “Lord -” or ‘‘sir pre
sents liis humble duty to your Majesty.” Each
niu-t. i c ordinsrt.o the laws oi* an in flex tide etiquette
be written without erasure or correction. None
must Ik folded. Failure to comply with any of
these conditions would argue disrespect to the sov-
••!"!), N >uirally the prime minister has occasion to
be in more constant communication with the sov
ereign ii an any other member of the cabinet; be is,
ia t he embodiment ofthecabinct in the sight
of the crown In its relation to the sovereign, the
cabinet is an absolute and in divisible unity;
nor can a premier be guilty of au act more repre
hensible in itself and in its tendency thui ween he
in forms the soveign of the speei tic cause* of the dif
ficulty which lie may encounter with bis cabi'et.
That difficulties exist he may, sometimes indeed
must, confess to the sovereign; hut it is a fixed tra
dition of the constitution that he should not asso
ciate the names of particular colleagues with the
existence of these difficult ies.
Meanwhile the train, which we may assume is
bound due north, land which contains the loyal
messenger and ii is precious freight of boxes, lias
crossed the border, and before it has arrived at
Perth day lias broken over the tops of the Scotch
mountains. Balmoral is reached at last. It was a
sweet summer day nml the Queen is seated in the
tent on tiie lawn, where she frequently breakfasts
in warm weather, and remains for hours t>y herself
or .with her ladies. Tiie sorting of the contents of
the colossal mail-bag will take upward of an hour,
and then her Majesty will be informed that all was
ready. Many letters were left for the Royal hands
to open Thus a foreign sovereign, or one of the
Queen’s children, or it may be one of her subjects
wh >m she honors with her friendship, has ad
dressed an epistle to her Majesty, in the same way
Unit friends, acquaintances and connections write
to each other in ordinary life. But even this com
munication only reaches its proud destination by a
strictly circuitous route. The autograph commu
nication of tiie Czar or Jvai :er would first go to tiie
Russian or Gorman embassy in London, would
I lien be sent t.o the foreign office in Whitehall, and
would travel from the foreign office to Balmoral in
one of the above mentioned boxes. In tiie same
way will be treated the letters of those members of
tiie royal family who may trom time to time be
abroad, or for the matter ot that at home. Tiie
Prince of Wales may employ the penny-post in wri
ting to an acquaintance. His Royal Highness has
resort to the State boxes when he addresses his au
gust mother, and the letter is usually inclosed un
der ‘-over to the Queen's secretary.
There is not ouepaper iu these boxes which the
queen will fail to examine. Ou many she will ask
for more information; on someshe will give definite
opinions which cannot becoutiued in the limits of
a sheet of note paper. Here we have enough bus
iness to occupy all the working hours of every day
in the monarch's life. Yet even thus the list of her
Majesty's engagements is not exhausted. She has
an interview with the secretary of state in atten
dance, and it is not improbable that she will dis
cuss a little more business with him later in the
day at dinner. Nor docs evening necessarily or al
ways bring the toils of monarchy to a close. Par
liament, oerhaps, sitting; and miles away, at West
minster, there is a gentleman who will be busily
engaged till the debate is over in sending to Balmo
ral short telegraph bulletins of the progress of tiie
discussion aud of tiie general feeling, if the sul>-
jc,t be of an exceptionally important character,
which it seems to evoke. Up to 7 or 8 o’clock this
assiduous chronicler of contemporary parliament
ary history has been in and out of the lobby and
tue House itself, clad In a gray frock coat, with a
superb flower in his buttonhole. He is very active,
very good-natured, aud he misses nothing. He is,
in fact, none other than Lord Barrington, her Maj
esty’s vice-chamberlain. When he strolls into the
Senate again, after dinner, having exchanged the
frock coat for the evening, he may find there is
nothing more to do. or, ou the other hand, he may
continue to dispatch tlieserelays of briei abstracts
till the small hours The (Queen thus knows what
has taken place lu either chamber of Hie Legisla
ture long before her subjects, and it is. indeed, only
by a combination of expenditure and method, of
indefatigable industry, facilitated and economized
by precise, loyal and punctual service, that her
.Majesty has achieved ilie reputation of being a
modest wo au ol business, us well as a pattern ''‘in
stitutional monarch.