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rcr FlOWERS COLlfCTIOi r -S- VOL. V. J. H. & W B. SEALS,} gggg&Sg ATLANTA, GA., AUGUST 23, 1879. Terms in advance:} s av. 52.50 Copy 5 c. No. 215. ROMEO AM) JULIET. Graceful as the willow bough, Beauty traced upon her brow. Artless in her open truth, Lovely in her budding youth. True and,tender, lair and young. Such the Juliet Shakespeare sung. Every winning charm combined, Loveliness of form and mind; On her cheeks the rose's dyes— Darkly glowed her starry eyes, Every soft, bewitching gia;e Met and mingled in her face. Need we we wonder, Borneo, At the love thy glances show, Kosaliue remembered not? All thy enmity forgot? Is she not a Capulet? Ah.butslieis Juliet! Though an enemy, slieseeins All the f .irer to his dreams; Brighter blooms the blushing rose That in thorny thicket grows. What is his ancestral hate To his love, his life, his fate? Love recks not what may befall, Cupid laughs at locks and wall. All in vain the friar warned, Romeo, his counsels.seorued, And in Friar Laurence's cell. Weds the maid he loved so well. Old and sad the story grows Of the lovers, erstwhile foes. At the tale of hapless love Youthful hearts to pity move, Mourn the touching fate they met— Romeo and his Juliet. Macon, Ga. DIES IRaffl. OR Under the Stars and Burs. HH BOWED TO C8, SAVING, “YOTNG LADIES, LET N'E ANNOLNBE AN ARRIVAL," BY CEI.ESTE II ETC HISS BARKSDALE. CHAPTER I. Tramp, tramp, tramp! I look up from the crim son dress, which I am making for Ellie, my youngest sister. She does not heed me, but con tinues walking to and fro,up and down the room. I settle myself comfortably in my easy chair and fix my eyes upon a copy of‘Nicholas Tulp,’ study it awhile. ... ,, .... Nicholas may understand dissecting the body but he affords me no solution to the mental trouble just now affecting Eve. Nicholas and I are great friends but he wearies me this morning, so I turn my at tention to the sad and ineffably lovely face of Dante’s Beatrice as conceived by Alston. She gazes sympathizingly from out her gilt and ebony frame at the girl pacing before her. It is getting somewhat monotonous to sit ana stare at Eve, and Nicholas and Beatrice. I cough slightly to attract attention. The flower-like face is not raised, the beautiful grey eyes do not cease to watch the intricate mass of flowers on the carpet, the"vermilion lips do not smile as is their wont. Red as a rose is she’ generally, but this morning ltllies outvie roses oil her polished cheeks. All this I take in at a glance, and I revert to the unsvmpathizing face of Nicholas. My eyes rove to Laudsuer’s 'Chief Mourner.’ I am not thinking of art or artists, but I continue to Iook around the room seeking something to divert my attention from the painfully monotonous tramp, tramp, and the tall, slender girl, carrying herself with peculiar grace across the room. It is a pleasant room, divided from another by a low, gilded arch, adorned with flowering con volvulus and airv white muslin and lace curtains, drooped at present, hiding the interior from view, looped usually with blue ribbons. A net woik of blue convolvulus and delicate green leaves up on gray form the carpet; a Steinway piano near tlie bay window, which is redolent with the per fume of opening violets, roses, lillies and _ hya cinths. As I sit lazily in my comfortable chair be- lore tlie glowing oak lire, their fragrant breath comes to me, the winter’s flower-children, m com pensation for the outward cold and snow. Pictures dot the walls. Busts of Beethoven and Mozart stand upon brackets over the piano. Busts of Schiller and Goethe smile at each other across the lapsis lazuli inlaid table, holding handsomely bound copies of 'Maid of Orleans,’ and Faust. Heine looks triumphantly from out his oval casing upon his wonderful and awful ‘Book of Laz arus,’and ‘Das Buch der Lieder.’ This Teutonic Voltaire is the vis-a-vis of the greatest of poets, By ron; Poor, derided Keats and De Musset outvie each other for the most melancholy face. Shelly, the (Quixotic, the admirer of Keats, looks pleasantly at his friend. We have no ‘Last Suppers,’ no ‘Ascensions,’ no ‘Infant Christs.’ Father believes it an unpardona ble sin for mortal bands to fashion a likeness of Christ. Instead, we have bits of glowing land scapes of peaceful lakes, ruined towers, deserted castles, moonlighted deserts,stormy seas, barren is- Eve seats herself at the open piano, and begins one of those tear-laden pieces. I turn my head slightly that I mav see the perfect contour of her face clearly defined by the blue and white muslin curtains Two Bohemian vases stand on either side of the piano, their fragrant blue violets and white hyacinths nod at each other at every sound of the instrument. Not a muscle of Eve’s face changes until the last chord is struck, and she buries her face in her hands and sobs aloud. I have not ex pected this outburst, and I sit m dumb astomsh- nl 'p,o well I know the cause of those tears. I long, vet dread to break the silence Rising, I leave the room softly. Passing along the wainscotted hall, I lesurely examine the portraits of my relations, the last of which, had been added only a few days a Co, and is our only brother, John. ... We are very proud of John. He is a manly fel low of two and thirty, with a handsome prepos sessing face, sound, well cultivated mtellect Seven years abroad, and constant friction against the great minds, with a keen appreciation of the true, good and beautiful. He is our encyclopec.ia^ He is placed upona pedestal, raised in our loving hearts to the highest nlace in our household, and worshipped ac- c&X ^ Our ^ay-haired father, himself a well informed and cultivated man, bows to him. Our gentle, sweet-faced mother has broken her alabas ter box of precious ointment to pour on his feet. I, Helen Ross, his eldest sister, bow daily before him as my Delphian oracle. Barbara, our second sister. • ~-j ...» I-—- —*— Eve, otvL youngest, less reverential by nature as uame, looks upon him after an absence of seven years, is quite an addition to our family circle. In the hatfl meet mother. ‘Where is Eve, Helen? Bert has sent to ask if she will go sleighing with him.’ ‘In tlie parlor. Shall I tell her? I hardly think it worth while however.’ I go to the parlor. Eve has dried her tears, com posed her features, and stands over the flower pots in the bay window, inhaling odors that rival those that are wafted over Sicilian meadows. ‘Eve,’ I say, as I come to her, ‘Bert wishes to know if you will go ’ ‘No,’ she replies shortly. ‘Why not? Only yesterday you were wishing to go.’ ‘Oh, Helen, you weary me! You pursue me as relentlessly as the Eumenides did Orestes,’ she says pettishly. ‘Pray,’ I cry warmly, ‘what possesses you to liken yourself to that crime-dyed individual? Do you follow his illustrious example? Do you sacri fice your mother’s heart upon the altar of self-love? Who is the accompanying Pylades?’ She bends lower over her flowers. They are not lovelier than her flower-like face. ‘Eve,’ I say, after a pause, ‘do not give way to such sickly sentime italities! It is deleterious to the mind, to the heart, to the soul. If you have a cross, and I doubt it not,bear it bravely. Crucify self love; let filial duty be the brightest gem which will one day adorn your crown. Remember what Ep- icterus has said: ‘Man is but a pilot; observe the star, hold the rudder, and be not distracted on the way.’ It is you, my dear child, who must pilot your barque through the breakers of temptation: it is you who must hold the rudder with a strong un wavering hand: it is you who must fix your eyes upon the star which shines from afar, like the star of the East, to guide you into the haven of Rest. If your shallow barque is engulfed in the seething waves of temptation, if the rudder falls from nerve less hands, if the beams of the star come not through mists of irresolution, you alone will be censured for the wreck.’ Lower and lower bends the pretty head with its mass of brown hair as I proceed, and the heart of the purple violet nearest me bears a burden that is not heaven’s dew. I turn away, to tell mother that Eve has declined Bert's invitation. Scarcelv has the servant disappeared down the snow-covered street, than a crimson clad figure comes flitting up to the gate. ‘Good morning, Miss Helen,’calls a clear, sweet voice. , The little figure comes from under the shadowy arch made by the overlapping deodars’ heavily la den branches. They are thickly powdered with snow, and adorned with pointed, glittering icicles, sparkling and flashing where an adventurous stray sunbeam pierces the white and green screen and falls upon it. It is a vivacious, childish face of a girl of seventeen, f ramed in a hood of crimson, with large, glowing brown eyes, daintily-shaped crim son lips, a nose inclined to be retrousse, adding piquancy to the dark face, a full brow, shaded by dark brown curls, arched eyebrows, like an evenly penciled line. ‘Is it not delightful weather?’ she asks, as I return her salutation. * Wo have had heavy snowing,’ I return, drawing her into the hall, and looking into the face that would do for an Atalanta. •Is Eve going?’ she asks, abruptly. ‘I believe not,’ I answer. ‘Good morning, Penelope,’ Barbara says, sailing toward us, magnificent in black silk and jet orna ments. Pen takes Barbara’s greeting calmly, answers her profuse questions concerning her mother's health, the state of the weather, her latest magazines and novels, and asks for Eve. Penlope and Eve have been friends until a year ago. ‘It is the little rift within the lute, That by and by will make the music mute.’ and Eve’s indifference toward Bert was the little rift that first severed them. I lead Pen into the parlor. Eve is standing before the fire, her brown head laid upon the mantlepiece. ‘How fragrant!’ Penelope exclaims. ‘It is like a breath from some flower-covered Florida field. Eve turns her head listlessly as we enter, greets Penelope kindly. ‘These,’ Pen points to a slender azure colored vase, bearing a solitary double camellia, and edged with purple hyacinths, while over the scalloped border of the vase double white violets peep, nest ling upon a downy green bed >f apple geranium leaves, ‘remind me of some flowers Bert brought kissed me, cause I sembled Eve.’ Eve crimsones, turns her face resolutely away; And highl y appreciated. Bert’s pictures come yet, Pen?’ ‘Some of them. One is equal to your friend Nicholas for ugliness. ‘How does your mother withstand the fever of the day?’ I ask in a low tone. ‘As all the rest of us do. She is it constant fear lest Bert be ordered off to war,’ Penreplies. War!’ Eve starts up. ‘Did you siy war, Pen?’ ‘You know that glorious little state, South Caro lina, seceded in Decemlier, and sill maintains her determination to come out from the pseudo union. Brave little state! The first to issert her rights, to throw off the galling bondage.’ ‘But, Pen ’ ‘Remember, please, how theynave intruded upon us ! Remember that outrage ol the South, on hu mankind, on God who made Jam’s descendants our slaves, in that very trutfnl ‘•Uncle Tom's Cabin !’ It is a slanderous, mlicious representa tion of our conduct toward thee who are depend ent upon us. No one wishes ore heartily than I do that ever}* negro was safe upon the burning sands of Africa, but I will n< relinquish my in heritance because a pack of sgry fanatics howl day and night.’ In the middle of this speech trbara sails majes tically into the room, waves hehand and asks; ‘Have you heard of Mr, Jerae's speech, Penel ope?’ ‘I heard it,’ the girl answers ‘ IFus it what Mrs. Newman as represented it to mama ?’ That depends upon how she^presented it.’ ... ‘Was it much of a—an—glancing apprehen sively at Eve - ‘It was an abolitionist's fiatical raving over tlie servitude of the negroes, e publicly avowed his intention of urging on ffar in order to set them free. By the by, Miss Jen. he was partic ularly severe upon your fath. He was discreet enough to call no names, biit was palpable to every one.’ ‘Did papa hear him V Eveioks up as she asks this; her face is very white, ‘He was not there. I must) now as I have an engagement. Miss Helen, 111a told me to ask you to come this evening, if tsible;’ she bent her pretty head to kiss me, andith a word at the others ran out of the room. ‘Why didn’t you go with rt, Eve ?’ Barbara asks, settling the head of tljet asp around her plump arm where the diamc eyes will attract the most attention. ‘I detest Albert Revere !’ o Eve, vehemently. ‘Why, Eve,’I say ‘you hathanged much since last winter. Then you thou; Bert’s brown eyes, brown hair and mustache, Gk features, tall fig- ‘ ure the handsomest ever seeiHe has not changed one particle: just the same hsome, goodnatured Bert.’ ‘He has changed ! He iery disagreeable ! Uncouth—’ ‘Uncouth !’ Barbara and I in concert. ‘You are mistaken, dear, ’ utinue, with sever ity. ‘To the contrary he i98 of the most pol ished and intelligent mem have. You see through distorted lenses w you look at him. Il'hy he should change so nrially in your eyes and opinion is, of course, oa matter of conjec ture to us. You must remer that you cannot assail him with impunity be us, for we like him as much as you detest F Mother coming in quiets and I resume my sewing: Eve leans her headinsther pink palms staring in the fire: Barbargusts and readjusts her bracelets and headdressther knits upon the lflnih’e wool cfrinl-inor intpnfnr thft I’Fflo T littlegips}* peeped into Eve's averted face saucily. Unable to bear the laughter we give vent to, Eve hastily leaves the room. Mother's face clouds, and she looks with wistful, compassionate eyes after the girl. ‘I cannot see,’I say, ‘what induces Eve to be so foolish. Last year, though not her declared lover, Bert was par exellence; now she barely tolerates him,’ “Woman’s perversity,’ Barbara says senten- tiously. CHAPTER II. Am 1 mad that I should cherish that which bears but bitterfruit? I will pluck it from my bosom though my heart be at the root. To-day (March 5th, 1S61) is Eve’s eighteenth birthday, anil as usual, we have made a little festi val for her. I superintended the arrangements of the little oblong table set in our cosy crimson-papered dining-room: grouping around a vase of geraniums and hyacinths, the rich fruit cake that had I teen •seasoning’ for the past few days, a basket of hot- house grapes sent by Mr. Rogers, some bottles of Oid Sherry wine, ail artistic Charlotte russe (my own composition) and some superb oranges and pineapples. Bert and Penelope had been in vited, and Mr. Rogers—a beau of Barbara’s—1 guessed that another would come to do honor to our lovely sister's birthday, though he had re ceived no invitation from us, and was by no means sure of a welcome except from her. Eve was si lent on the subject, but I thought spitefully as I watched her dressing, that it was for the sake of this Yankee lover that she made such a caref jl toi let- She looked lovely in her dress of moonlight blue silk made with cuirass basque and train, with pearl ornaments in her delicate ears and at her throat. Sue came to mein the parlor after she was dressed. I was standing before a portrait of my father s youngest sister—the beautiful Evangeline after whom Eve;was named. The picture bore a strong resemblance to my sister, and as I looked at it. I wondered if Eve’s future would be like hers of the portrait—unhappy, broken-hearted wife who had early found peace in the grave. It was while I was thus thinking that my sister came in. I turned at the rustle of her dress and said: ‘Come here. Eve darling ; I was thinking how much you resembled aunt Evangeline, and hopino- your destiny might never be like hers. She mar clouded, but he only kissed her again in silence. The twilight falls and finds us all assembled in the warmed and lighted drawing-room. At John's request Eve sits playing at the piano. There is a little stir in tlie hall, and Penelope glides to my side. She shakes her head to command silence, and noints toward Bert. He stands in the door way, totally oblivious of everything save Eve, whom he watched silently, while into his grave brown eyes, sweeps a tide of passionate longing and love. His handsome head is leaned carelessly against the walnut facing, his whole attitude show ing entire forgetfulness of every one save that fig ure at the piano, over which tlie rose-colored light from the globed chandelier throws its witching ra diance. With an instinctive love of the beautiful in his tender, chivalrous heart, an artist's eye for coloi and effect, he notes each detail in the lovely tab leau before him. With a face like a pure Madon na, she sits, gazing at the marble bust of Beetho ven. As she ceases he advances to her side. She greets him coldly and resumes her seat beside fa ther, Bert sighs as he sits down beside me. Bar bara goes to the piano and plays innumerable va riations and waltzes until Mr. Jerome and Charley Rogers are announced, then she condescends ti chat with Mr. Rogers, who is a slave to her wid owed charms. Eve is coaxed into the bay window by Mr. Je rome. Pen chats with father: John sits toying with some geranium leaves Pen has given him: I talk to Bert, who replies in monosyllables, watching anx iously the bay window. Pen turns to John in her quick, graceful way, saying: ‘As you are just from" Richmond you can tell us the news. What are they doing ? What are the} going to do ?’ ‘He hope to preserve the Union at any cost, ’ he replies, crushing the fragrant leaves between hi- hands. ‘At any cost !’ cries the girl, scornfully. ‘Aye. with the sacrifice of valor, of patriotism, of liberty God forbid ! Do you, can you, one of Virginia’s sons, say that ? ‘At any cost !’ ll’iH you let the rabble, the horde of barbarians, the modern Goths and Huns, sweep down upon you as a hawk upon his legitimate prey ?’ I had never thought Penelope beautiful until she stands liefore John now, her crimson lips parted over the even, white teeth, her luminous brown eyes flashing with excitement, the bright blood liv ing her polished cheeks. So must have looked Jean D’Arc as she stood before her weak, irresolute king. fi'wn are of different mnlfWal from others another man than John would have She warm blood leaping in his veins at t’ sight'of the be witching face bent above him, Ud not conceal the admiration in his eyes for the s .aceful prettib- outlined figure. Not so with John; he barely re represses the smile hovering under his heavv mus tache as he says: ‘The Union must be preserved at any cost. Miss Pen. \irginia is now wavering, irresolute, wheth er to join her sister states who have seceded or tr remain in the Union. As she goes, I go. for’l will never take up arms against mv native state ’ ‘How coldly you talk !’ she" excla-ms. ‘if upon you, John Ross, depended the safetv of the South she would be to the North what Poland is to Rus sia, what Ireland is to England, what Cuba is to Spain.’ Penelope, \ ou must not attack John in this man ner, Bert sa\ s. ‘And you, Bert ? Are you thus cold swiftly upon her brother. ‘My dear little sister,’rising and encircling her in his arms,‘you must not permit Impulse.to canter away with Reason. You forget that you are not talking to mother and vour most humble servant and brother.’ 'Leave Pen to me, Bert.' I sav, rising and laving my hand on his arm. ‘Let her speak. It does one good to hear some < >ne express their real opinion.' l \\ hat’s that, Helen ?' questions father, ‘l fear it would be sentiments not altogether loy al, father,' with an exoressive glance at the bav window. ‘It is politics all the time, ‘I am so tired of it.' ‘Perhaps you would be more pleased, Mrs. Crof- ton. if we would discuss fast.ion,’ cries Pen with that intense disdain of a girl of her ideas for a less enthusiastic woman. -Ere long the word fashion will be looked upon as obsolete.' Pray, Miss Pen, has Apollo bestowed upon vou the gift of prophecy ?' asked John, teasingly. ‘Y es; and like Cassandra has denied me believers." the girl replies, mournfully, looking at him searcli- ingly, as if to note the effect of her words. ‘Don’t prophecy anything evil,’ calls Mr. Jerome, showing his florid face. ‘If my prophecies would come true, rest assured. I would spend my latest breath against your native state, and dying, like Author, would remember mv sweet Argos,—my Virginia.’ ‘Aon tali aujcilio nee defensoribus istis Temjms eyet.—’ ’’ John quotes, laughingly. ‘Let us be friends, Miss Revere, until the hostili- turning pipes forth Barbara. ried against her father's will y ou know, and a curse | ties you anticipate commence,’ Mr. Jerome savs. followed the union as it always does a marriage un- I advancing and offering his hand, sanctioned by a parent’s blessing.’ She half recoiled from my embracing arm as I lamb’s wool stocking intenfor the little feet I hear pattering on the stair This is our Puck, our mevous Robin Good- fellow, who turns every thiipsy-tr.rvv with bu sy, dimpled fingers all day, A baby face, set with astonished, baby blue, two rose-bud lips, little pug nose, dimpled reeeks, frowsy yellow hair, comes peeping in. ‘Where have you been, P’ I ask as she comes to me. ‘To see Oberon,’she ansi, smiling saucily. ‘How is Titania ?’ I saw we have learned her this. ‘Her was in love with: Bottom,’ the child says promptly, looking kigly over at Eve. ‘Where have you beeiie V Barbara asks, seized with one of her ns of motherly solici tude, drawing the little bad figure to her. ‘Talking to Bert. See 1 ved me this ring and uttered these words, significantly. ;Parents often oppose without judgment,’ she said at last. ‘They act from fanatical prejudice as; in the case that is; in your mind now, Helen! IV hy do you ail detest Jerome? Only because he happened to be born in the Northern part of your own country—of a union of States that has never been dissolved, that never will be, and that are at variance only in the minds of a a few agitators. If the parents of my poor aunt yonder (pointing to the portrait) had as little cause for opposing She was interrupted by the sudden entrance of our father. There was a flurry in his manner and a look of elation in his face. He bowed to us with joyous playfulness and said: 1 \ OUn ^ * a, ^ es i id me announce an arrival. Your brother John has just come from Richmond. He brings great news. War between the North and South is every moment expected to begin. Ala bama Georgia, Florida and Mississippi have foi- Union ’ example of Carolina and seceded from the ^ ejssped my hands with an involuntary cry of exultation—so fascinating in those days was the dream of treedom from Northern interference anil a government all our own. But my sister clutched my arm convulsively and she grew deadly whit.e At last she murmured. ^ holds out, and if Virginia does not I secede, the Union is safe and there will be no war.’ lhe uext moment John came into the room, with Elbe tugging at one hand, and the other arm'around mama s waist. Barbara followed and we gathered like satellites around this handsome, superbly formed brother of ours, and received his affection- ate caresses with the empressement of worshippers When hehad kissed Eve, he put her back from him and looked earnestly into her*changing face, What he read there seemed to pain him, for his face advancing and" offering I ‘Penelope says, witii cutting emphasis, drawing away:— ‘ “Timeo Danans et dona ferentesd ‘Give us your opinion, Mr. Ross,’ Mr. Rogers says, with that deference of manner remarkable in the days of courtship toward the parent of his love. Eve glided out from among her flowers, past Je rome and Pen, Bert and me, kneeling before fatliey. cries:—‘No. no, dear papa !’ Bert bites his mustache savagely, stoops to pick up the half blown rose that has fallen from her hair. Poor Bert ! ‘Why not, Eve ?’ Barbara asks, as if she thought Eve intended to deny Mr. Rogers the pleasure of hearing her father speak. Father declines to reply, and we feel to press the subject will be a breach of hospitality, so the all absorbing theme is dropped. Later Eve unwillingly accompanies Bert to the library. I am alrea :v there, having been sent by John for a book, and await an opportunity to es cape unseen to the parlor. I hear Bert’s eloquent and tender pleading. It carries me back to a day when a face and voice like his had power to stir the deepest feelings of my heart—a face and voice that have long since gone out into the great hereafter, leaving me to battle with the desolate life before me as best I might. A remembrance of that long ago makes me won der how Eve can resist that pleading voice and eag er face. He tells her of a love that has grown with his growth until it is a part of his lieing. Eve list ens—nothing more—with her shapely head drooped forward as if a burden had been laid" upon it heavi er tlian it could bear. Lower and lower droops the brown head, while the white fingers interlace each other nervously. Suddenly she looks up and says, iu a sad, tearful voice: ‘Oh, Bert. I am so sorry I can’t love you—indeed I have tried.' She paused a moment, then: ‘Know- all this makes it so much harder for me. I had 3E