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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.