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JOHN H. REAM, Editor and Proprietor.
Wm. B. ME A EH. Proprietor and for. Editor.
HRS. MARY E. BRYAN. <*) Associate Editor
ATLANTA, GEORGIA, OCT. 11th, .879.
Theophrastus^:Much.—Through an oversight
the signat ure of the writer was omitted in the ad
mirable review of George Eliot's last book, '‘Im
pressions of Theophrastus Such.” It was written
by Mrs. Bettie Arnold Broyles, of this city—a lady
who has frequentlycontributed thoughtful and well-
digested papers to the Sunny Sou ra. *
The fresh, amusing story—(a real experience,by
the way) ‘‘A Quartette of Housekeepers,” which we
published last week, was written by Miss Louise
Clarke—the elocutionist. Miss Clarke is meeting
with fine success in Atlanta. Among her pupils
are several professional young men and those who
wish to enter the law, ministry, and lecture field.
The e young gentlemen do well to improve so good
an opportunity ofge. ting cheap and skilled instruc
tion in elocution. *
Rachel and Bernhardt. — Matthew Arnold
draws this decisive comparison between the great
French actress, who is dead, and tlieliving one who
is all the fashion:
“One talks vaguely of genius, but I had never till
now comprehended how much of Rachel's superi.
ority was purely in intellectual power, how emi
nently this power counts in the actor’s art as in
all art, how just is the instinct which led the Gre ks
to mark with a high and severe stamp the Muses,
Temperament and quick intelligence, passion, ner
vous mobility, grace, smile, voice, charm, poetry—
Mademoiselle Sarah Bernhardt has them all; one
watches her with pleasure, with admiration, and
yet not without a secret disquietude. Something
is wanting, or, at least, not present in sufficient
force; something which alone can secure and fix her
administration of all the charming gifts which she
has, can alone keep them fresh, keep them sincere,
save them from perils by caprice, perils by man"
meristn; that something is high intellectual power.
It was here that Rachel was so great, she began,
one says to one’s self as one recalls her image and
dwells upon it—she began almost where Mademoi
selle.Sarah Bernhardt ends.”
The Novel-writer as a Teacher.—The writer
of stories must please, or he will be nothing. And
he n ust teach, whether he wishes to teach or not.
How shall he teach lessons of virtue, and at tht
same time make himself a deligh to his r aders?
Sermons in themselves are not thought to be agree
able; nor are disquisitions on moral philosophy
supposed to be plea-ant reading for our idle liours_
But the novelist, if he have a consc enee, must
preach his sermons with the same purpose as the
clergyman, an 1 must have h s own system of ethics.
If he can do til’s effi. iently, if he can make virtue
alluring and vice ugly, while he charms his reader
instead of wearying him, then we think that he
should not be spoken of generally as being among
those worker- of iniquity who do evil in their gen
eration. So many haveuone so. that the novelists
as a c'ass may. we think, boast that such has been
the result of their work. Can (any one, searching
through tlie works of the line writers whose names
we have specially mention d—Miss Edgewood, Miss
Austin, Scott DijJi»ns and Thackeray—find a scene,
a passage, or a w rd that could teach a girl to be im
modest or a man to be dishonest?
THE PRESIDENT IN MISSOURI.
A Crowd of Roughs Encountered at Hannibal
General Sherman’s Speech.
The Hannibal Courier of Wednesday contains
an account of the reception of the Presidential trav
eling party in that city on Tuesday night, which is
omitted in the press dispatches. The travelers ar
rived at the depot at io P. M.. and, according to the
Courier’s account, were rudely assailed by a crowd
of roughs with jeers and abusive shouts. The Pres
ident appeared on the platform of the car, but up
on observing the character of those present retired
within. General Sherman then appeared, and, be
ing called on for a speech, said:
Boys, I am General Sherman. My home is in St.
Louis, and I expect to live and die in your State.
This is a gl 'jrious State, rich in everything that goes
to make communities prosperous and happy, but
I tell you that as sure as there is a God in heaven,
the day will come, and ere long, too, when Mis
souri will be peopled and by ladies and gentle
men who will not insult the President of the
United States when he comes within your bor
ders. (Criesof good! good! right! right!] 1 know
your State and have traveled across it in every
conceivable direction, and I tell you that your
children will be the richest in the United States.
Cries of [‘Hayes, Hayes, we want to see Hayes. ’j
The President came out to see you and he will
hardly come again after the treatment he receiv
ed. You must not insult the President of the Un
ited States and you must not insult me, for if you
do, so help me God, PU fight. [Cries of ‘You
bet,’ ‘weknow you’ll fight!’] If you will promise
to be respectful I will see the President and I
think he will come out and see you again. [Cries
of ‘three cheers for General Sherman!’] Never
mind, boys, cheering for me; just treat the Presi
dent respectfully, when he comes out and you’ll
please me best.
TITLES AND MONEY
Another American Alliance-Kiss Ayer to
Marry a Prince
[Eli Perkins in Chicago Tribune.1
The Belmont-Jerot i .e-Travers-Lorillard- Stever s
set are very much concei ned about a magnificent
alliahce soon to be made by an American young
lady entirely out of the swell, polo circle. A few
years ago Leonard Jerome’s daughter married Lord
Churchill, and Jerome settled $10,000 a year on
him to bind ihe bargain. Then Bennett and Bel
mont got the youthful Lord Mandeville over here
and filled him with Knickerbocker-club wine, and
be wa- caught by the beautiful Miss Yznaga. The ■
Miss Stevens’ mother gave Capt. Paget, the son of
Lord Paget, $100,000; and now Miss Lillie Ayer,
daughter of the late proprietor of the r oted Ayer’s
pills, is engaged to be married to a foreigner who
ranks the whole crowd. She is engaged to a Prince
de Bourbon. His name is Phillippe Louis Marie
de Bourbon, son of the Count d’Aquia (uncle of the
ex-King Francis II. of Naples), and a grandson of
Dom Pedro L, Emperor of Brazil. Miss Ayer is a
very lovely young lady of about twenty, (Tne
age of her intended spouse is thirty-two.) She is
the heiress to $5,000,000, or rather ha- the money
now. She is the richest young lady in America,
and as s/ eet and beautiful as she is rich. She has
h-id many American and foreign lovers. Capt.
Pierson, of the United States Navy, who was
knighted by Queen Victoria, paid steady court to
her for a year; and then Joaquin Miller fell in love
with her with all the ardor of a passionate poet. I
had a good deal of love for Miss Ayer myself: but,
being married, it did not show itself as it did w.th
Joaquin. One of the most charming and passion
ate love refrains ever written by Joaquin Miller
v as indited by him when he was in love with Miss
Lillie Ayer, last winter.
General Grant is not the first American hero to
whom the San Francisco people have given a rous
ing reception. IVhen General Winfield Scott stop
ped there on his way to San Juan Island, twenty
years ago, he was received with the utmost enthu
siasm of parade and other pomp.
PEOPLE l_HAVE MET.
Miss Flora Dare.
BY BABY B. BRYAN.
NO. I.
Are you acquainted with Miss Flora Dare? Ifcot,
I am sure you kno v some of her sisters, or her cou
sins, or her aunts. She is the young lady who gets
on in society by dint of her wits. She<has a passable
face and graceful figure, and she dresses showily at
small expense. Cheap material, with much trim-
mi ng, and ribbons and flowers, low of price and
high of color. Her ease of manner is wonderful.—
Nothing disconcerts her. Her smooth manner
turns off all slights and snubs as a cabbageleaf turns
the rain.
If she thinks it worth the while, she insinuates
herself into your house with an ease as pe sistent
as it Is adroit, and impossible to take offence at.—
She crochets your little girl asacque, or embroiders
your husband a smoking cap. and you feel impelled
to offer her a present, and, since she laughs with
such pretty sarcasm about the meannesa of Mrs. C.,
you cannot think of offering her a present that is not
much more valuable than the trumpery sacque or
smoking cap.
She borrows; ah ! Miss Flora believes in the old
song
“What you haven’t got child, borrow, borr w
borrow."
But she does not borrow in any coarse, straight
forward way. She praises your “things” as “so el
egant." She throws your new shawl around her
shoulders, or perches your bonnet a-top of her
“bangs,” and smiling at herself in the glass says:
“How do I look with this on? I’d like to wear it
ju t one** to feel as Cinderella did, and make
my prince follow me.” Of course you say “well,
wear it," though you have never appeared in it
yourself.
She fishes for presents in the most delicate way.
baiting her hook with flattery. For instance, when
Mrs. A. shows her new cameo set, a gift from her
husband, Flora turns to Mr. A. and says:, “They
are are lovely as possible, bat Mrs. A. ought not to
have shown them to me. It is wrong to tempt us
poor, husbandless girls to break the commandment
about not coveting. I'll dream of these earrings.”
And then she sighs and smiles at Mr. A. with such
fascinating sadness, that, he can but exclaim:
“There’s a pair at t he jewelers just like t hem. Miss
Flora, if you would except them from Mel and my
self,” remembering the neekti* (an old scrap of silk,
sent him bv Miss Flora on his last birthday.
ft is only the first people or people she can use as
stepping stones, with whom Miss Flora takes tiie
troubleto ingratiate herself. When there is sick
ness in such a family, or seme unusual hurry and
necessity for help, as on the occasion of a wedding,
or a party or !a journey. Miss Flora contrives to
make herself useful by her assistance, or her
sh. ewd suggestions, her taste and quickness, being
as remarkable as ht r quiet, r.na gressive self assu
rance. Once having gained a foothold, it isas im
possible to remove her as it is to rid your gardi n of
the cocoa grass. Good-natured, cheerful, charming
and persistent, she is henceforth one of your circle,
and you need not attempt toslide her off upon I;r
Holmes' social “inclined plane.” Any ruder meth
od would be out of the question toward such an
agreeable and obliging person.
Miss Flora is tend of making long visits toner
friends at a distance, she iias made the acquaint
ance of your daughter and yourself in your excur
sion to the city. She has assisted you in shopping
—having capital taste and knowing every clerk and
every piece of goods in the stores,—and you have
said in your gratitude, ‘Come to see me.”
You reach home, and a postal arrives presently.
•• I >enr 1 II, ,,' jV.- ..... .... t» --lolvou’ S
train. I am going to run down upon you according
to promise. Will bring the last magazine and new
est patterns. I,ove to chert belle Mattie.
Devotedly, Flora
She comes to stay a month, though her only bag-
gag -• is a satchel. It contains one skirt-a “sham,”
flounce'., with silk left over from the gros grain that
was made up under her direction for a country
friend—and two over dresses, respectively of cheap
blue and drab sila, showily trimmed. These with a
pair of coquettish slippers, and open-work stock
ings, a number o f bows, fichus and necklets manu
factured out of the ends of lace and ribbon left over
from things she had made for dearjfriends, who fur
nished the materials—constitute the young lady’
necessaries for a mouth's campaign in your town.
A box containing'riz/es, powder, rouge and eye
brow pencils must not be forgotten.
“I couldn’t be troubled with a trunk,” she says,
lightly, “and I knew I could depend on you, Mattie t
for underskirts?and night things and so on; yes, and
an old wrapper to keep from spoiling my traveling
dress, and to help in about the house.”
She lives in the wrapper ali the morning, shed-
king it in the afternoon to emerge like a butterfly
from its chrysalis. Her help ijabout the bouse is
confined to dusting the parlor in which she glides
abont in curlpapers, humming an sir from Wag
ner, and t< making a pretty hanging basket, and
some fluffy mantle mats, quietly appropriating the
worsted left over from these to embroider “splash
ers” for some of her new lady friends. For she
speedily becomes popular in town: she knows more
people in.lt than you do; has found out who are the
‘first” and got into their good graces by praising
the babies or the gardens of the ladies and furnish
ing them with new patterns or timely suggestions,
about dresses, while she has won the favor of the
gentlemen by her cleverness in whist and chess, her
faculty of listening to them and of humoring their
crochets and deferring to theii judgment. She in
vites people to your house of au evening and enter
tains them charmingly with new games, conun
drums, cards, dances, and amusing, coquettish rec
itations, forgetful of your headache, but “so sorry’’
afterwards and so anxious to bathe your head in
cologne and to make you an ice lemonade, that
you can but smile forgiveness. She gets into a love
affair, too, in which she interests your romantic
heart. The young fellow is poor, but she says she
will work with him aud for him, that she must love
him always and aloue, though
“All the silver that he brings
Is ringing on his tongue.”
She talks so sadly of the long time they must wait,
for she has not money enough to begin to buy
a decent bridal outfit, that with a rush of sympathy
for the young couple and a tinge of remorse tha
they have met at your house, you beg her accept
ance of a five dollar bill,;and your best embroidered
skirt, as a foundation for the wedding trosseau.—
She smothers you with kisses, goes home and the
next you hear of her, she has married your rich old
bachelor consin, who lives just opposite and whose
money you had begun to feel sure would be left to
your children, Yet how amusingly she had mim
icked his querulous complaints of the gout when
she was with you, and how you had blessed her for
a good-natured martyr, when she played chess so
patiently with him. she was playing a little game
of her own at t he same time.
When next you meet her, she is stepping out of
her own carriage—a bride, radiant in pearl silk and
diamond earrings. She smiles condescendingly and
gives yon to understand that she may boner you by
admittance to the circle of her acquaintance.
Push, management and self-assertion have won
the day; and Flora Dare, who gained a precarious
foothold in society by her wits, is now a leader of
the ton.
CHARCOALSKETCHES.
The HauhtedFeather Bed.
BY MARY E, BRYAN.
NO- IY.
Some years before the war, Mr. John W. Brown,
(no relation of Ossawattomie) moved from Virginia
to Louisiana, taking with him his family, his ne
groes and a portion of his household effects. The
journey was ^performed in wagons, and there were
manv nightsot camping out, of sleeping under tents
in the woods and cooking at fires made of great logs
rolled tog.-ther. There was much discomfort in
this marooning, especially in bad weather, but
also much fun, particularly to the young fry, who
had never eaten with such appetites, and never
slept so deliciously as upon the great feather beds
that were lilted from the wagons at nieht. and pi ed
down a-top of the fresh-cut, balsa my pine-tops.—
One of these beds was perfectly new, both as to tick
and filling. The great store of of geese’s and duck’s
leatneis that the thrifty Mrs. Brown bad b en ac
cumulating for ever so maay years, had been put.
for convenient carriage, into an excellent stout
tick to form a new bed. Upon arriving at their
destination, which was Natchitoches Parish, the
Browns proceeded 10 set up their Lares and Penates
i a comfortable farm hou e o . the auks of Red
River. The new feather bed was installed upon he
loftiest bedstead and formed the most conspicuous
feature of Room In this r om. sacred to
corapa >y, werethe best brass-topped andirons, t‘:e
tall, gilt-iramed looking glass, the broad-faced
clock, the picture of*Rebecca at the Well’ in brig il
ly-glazed colors and the yellow white satin pin
cushioi . with ‘May Yon be Happy’ traced upon ij
with pins, that had been presented to Mrs. Brown
bv one of her bride's maids
But ail these articles were eclipsed in splendor by
the bed. Beaten up to its lightest and highest alti
tude, covered with a 1 ew patchwork quilt of the
‘Lone Star' pattern in red and yellow,and surmoun
ted with big pillows in ruffled cases (no make-be
lieve ‘shams’; the bed formed an object upon which
ID'S. Brown looked with pardonable pride when
ever she lighted her company to the room for the
night.
But attractive as was the bed, soft, as were, its pil
low s and snowy itssheels, it brought no rest to any
one that ever reposed upon it. It was a mysterious
fact that no oue ever enjoyed a good sleep upon it.
Guests rose from its soft 'epths with pale cheeks
and dark rings under their eyes, and complain'd
that they had been troubled with terrible dre.ms.
Some o! them, seized with an undefiuabie sensa-
have crept nto the bed through that little three-cor
nered hole torn in the ticking one night during the
camping out, and was sewed up in there next morn
ing.
How did it manage to live during those twelve
years? That remains an open question. I only
sta e D'e facts, which can be attes ed by living eye
witnesses. Mr. Brown, Sr., is dead. Mr.Brown, Jr.,
succumbed to the yellow lever in —71, but his wife,
his son, ! Dr. Newlon Brown and his daughter
Miss Lizzie, are still highly respected citizens
o. Natchitoches (now Red Rever) Parish. Louisiana*
and the snake story, which I had from their lips, i.
vouched for by them and their neighbors.
THE HANDSOMEST FOOT.
How the Foot of the Southern Female Compares
with that of the Yankee.
[From the New York San.]
A Sun Reporter dropped into a Bleecker street
shoe store on Friday evening, and saw Mr. Charles
Wolf, a clerk, selling an exquisite pair of gaiters to
a handsome girl.
‘ What is the largest size of gaiters that you ever
sold to a lady ?’ we asked.
‘The largest was a pair of nines,’ Mr. Wolf re
plied. ‘Two sisters—and very pretty girls—live not
far from here. One wears 'eights and the other
nines.’
‘How do tiieir hands compare with their feet ?’
was the next question.
‘Their hands look as though they require a gen
tleman’s kid glove,’ said Mr. Wolf. ‘Butthey were
faultless in shape, and tiie sweetest pink nails that
I ever saw on a hand.’ He smiled as he again re
ferred ro their feet. ‘Tie oldest sister,’ he contin-
ued. ‘tried hard to squeeze on a pair of eight®, but
without success. Finally she gave me an order to
make a pair of nines, and they really lock well on
her feet. You wouldn't think they we> e nines to
look at them.
‘Werethe girls Americans ?’
‘No,’ Mr. Wo f answered. ‘They were rosy-
cheeked Irish girls. ’
Ml hat is the smallest size of gaiters sold ?’ we
asked.
'Number ones,’ Mr. Wolf responded, ‘They were
bougi't by a married lady living in Maedougal
street, and they were actually a lit.le too large.’
‘Do you seli many number ones 1’
‘More ones than eights,’ said Mr. Wo f. ‘I have
been in the business over fifteen years, and I find
that the majoMtv of those who wear one.- are
Southern and Spanish ladies.’
‘What is the difference between the fo -t of a
Southern lady and the loot of a Yankee woman V
we inquired.
‘The diff rence is the same as the difference be
tween tht loot of a Southern man and a Yankee,’
Mr. Wolf replied. ‘Southern feet are narrow and
bowed in t e middle, giving them a very high in-
tiou of horror, would rise from the b°d and walk | step. The Yankee foot is spread at the toes, and
the fioor, or ' ijbt 1 lie lamp and sit an 1 read through j . s ll '? re , surpce ■ ^? r instance, have a gen-
the n;
at the
. , . ... . , , , , 1 nine Yankee foot. The distance from bunion to
lght. One nervous maiden lady screamed out 1 ■ , ■ ... ,, . .
: . , bunion—l beg pardon, from the joint ot the big toe
5 " ee sma hours, and declared that tne bed to the j oil)t of lhe little toe—is much greater than
that ot a Southern font.
had moved lAypj ier as if a hand had pushed it up
from beneath.’Miners averred that tbc bed made
itself into ridges or waves ttiat slippe i and heaved
under them as if alive. One lady relative, having
got off an upward bound steamer tospendaweek
at the Brown's, left next morning on the first boat
that passed down, alleging some plausible reason to
the family, but declaring in the cabin of the steam
er, that she would not sleep another night in that
bed, not if it was stuffed with bank notes and given
to her as a present.
Mrs. Brown was greatly concermd at the evil
re utatiouthat seemed to be attached to iier best,
bed. “It must be the new leathers,” she said, and
to remedy tiiis the bed was frequently sunned, and
lef; over night for the dew to purify it. But neither
tlie sun nor dew broke the evil charm that clung to
the bed.
It was npw twelve years since the Browns had
-i.unnvpil trouwDA.'>inia file 1'hrisfraas holidays
.• i>,.i.Ty lhe family
“I think Thurman will be the Democratic nomi
nee,” said Blaine to an Ohio interviewer.
wt.-re at Infnb iFk ihe family reeviveu intelligence
by letter tiiat they were to be favored with a visit
from.'Mr. Brown pare. V rs. Brown, like the good wife
she was, determined to do honor to her iiusband’s
father, and accordingly the spare room was over
hauled, the floor scrubbed to snowy whiteness, the
andirons polished, 'Rebecca at the Well’ reglazed'
the mantle-piece vases decorated with evergreens
and mock oranges (balls of cotton smeared with the
yolk of an egg) and lastly the bed was sunned, dec
orated with a new quilt (tulip pattern) and further
ornamented by having pink musketo bars les-
tooned about the tall bed-pos'.s. In such a stately
and downy bed of ease,«.Id Mr. Brown should have
slumbered as so. ndly as did Father Adam, when
his ‘deep sleep' made him oblivious of that rib ex'
traction that was his blessing—and bane. He ought
to;hnve slept as s nudly, but he didjnot. Indeed, he
got up iu the middie of the night, dressed, and
walked about/bn the foggy river bank like a per-
t'irbed ghost. By breakfast time, he had a touch of
the ague, and laid it ail upon his want of rest: de
claring he could not sleep a wink: that something
was inside the bed that he felt it move and elide
under him, like a great, ^undulating Jbody; and
finally that he'd be banged if he'd sleep in|the bed
another night.
Good Mr. and Mrs. Brown were greatly distressed.
Was the bed actually bewitc > ed? Had the Evil One
got ins de of it to disturb the repose and provoke
the blasphemy of all who should seek lepose upon
it? Must it be sacrificed? Must those seventy pounds
of nice leather and that excellent tick be burned,
as it was necessary that all bewitched things should
be?
The bed was brought out on the gallery for inspec
tion. Tberefwas not one thing remarkable in the
appearance except its unusnal sir.-. The ticking was
nice, clean, and intact, except for a mended rent:
one smaB. three-cornered hole that had been torn
in it twelve years ago during one night of the camp
ing out, and which bad been carefully closed up by
the thick overstitching of Mrs, Brown before the
bed was replaced iu the wagon. Except this slight
flaw, the bed was as good as when first made. Old
Mr. Brown inspected it on all sides, poked it with
his stick, then gathering courage, punched it with
his hand, turned it ovet, and finally looked a little
ashamed of^lmself, and said the monster he had
leltfinside tht tied might have been the creature of
his imaginationjstimulated by a cat fish supper.—
He ended by avowing his intention to sleep another
night in »>.e haunted bed.
Night came; the old gentleman abstained from
catfish, said an unusually long prayer and retired
early
An hour afterwards, the household were aroused
by hearing his voic-t raised to an excited pitch:
“Bring a light!” hesbouted. “Quick!”
They lushed to his room with a light. There stood
the old gentleman in his night habiliments, grasp
ing a portion of the bed ticking in both hands,
“Bring a p»ir of scissors or a knife,” hecried, “I’ve
got it!”
“Got what’” faintly exclaimed Mrs. Brown, sprin
ging back as she saw something undulating, and
moving abent under the two clutching hands
of her fatlur-in-law. Was it indeed the Evil
One?
“I can’t,” »he uttered, as Rhe was directed to stick
her scissor" in the bed aud cut “just here on each
side ef my hands.”
Her husband put her aside and taking his sharp
knife; cut a lit each side the old man’s hands, and
11 smaller slit crosswise, cutting out the piece of
ticking.
“Now, stand back!” cried old Mr. Brown, “I’m go
ing to jerk it out!”
Jerk it oat he did, and landed it with all bia force
against the mUl. It fell to the floor and lay wriggling
—a moccasin snake, three feet and a half long.
How did il get in the bed? There was but one
possible solution of the puzzle. Allured by the
v. armtb and the smell of the fresh feathers, it must
There is much grace
about the foot of a Yankee lady, but it lacks the
suppleness of a Southern foot.' Its merits are its
exquisite shape, small heel, and strength. Compare
the walk of a Southern woman with a Yankee wo-
man. ihe Yankee lady has a short, springy step.
The little heel first catches the sidewalk, and the
gaiters sound like the click of a telegraph instru
ment. The Southern woman walks languidly, and
mades long steps. The feet make the difference.
Let a Yankee girl attempt the step of a Southern
lady, and she will turn ht rankle. There is only
one woman 11 the North whose foot will compare
with the Southern foot.’
‘Name her,’said the reporter.
‘The Jersey woman,’ said Mr. IT'olf. ‘The true
Jersey woman has a foot on a par with that of a
Kentucky belle I can’t imagine where -he gets it,
but she lias it. One would think that the descend
ants of the Aquackenonck Dutch ought to have
splay feet, but it is not so.’
‘Numbers f the Aquackenonck Dutch married
among The French Huguenot families of Staten ls-
l-„ V..- lion * tl.„t
tnfc mixture of tiie blood may have’something to do
with the size of the feet ?’ ,
. ‘That’s so,’ replied Mr. W olf ‘I nevei tl o ight of
that, One thing is certain: I never saw a prettier foot
than tiie foot of the blue-blooded Jersey woman.
They would go into a salt-cellar. It’s worth a trip
to Jersey just to look at the feet of the women.
‘How do the feet of the Jersey men compare with
them ?’
•Good Lord ” exclaimed Mr, IT’olf. ‘Don’t talk
about it. The real Jersey man has a foot like a
griddle. Put a bricx in a glove box and it would
lay clean over the foot of a Jersey man. If there
is any one man in this world whose foot is uglier
than that of any other man in this world, that man
is a Jersey man.
Here a customer entered the store and Mr. Wolf
turned his back upon the reporter and concentrated
his powerful mind upon a new subject.
Answers to correspondents.
Mrs. C. L. says: *1 am troubled chronically with
the “blues,” what antidote is there for habitual
low spirits?” • * * We should say for one
thing, employment for mind and body. Nothing
so good to keep the spirits at a cheerful height as
work. Then visit among the afflicted and poverty-
stricken, and try by kind words and small atten
tions if i . no other way, to let some sunshine Into
their lives. This will lift you out of yourself out
of the fog of the “blues,” which is an emanation of
selfishness, and it will show you that there are har
der lots in life than yours.
Annetta says : “I am greatly troubled about my
complexion. If th* re is any beauty Idoadmire.it
is afresh, pure complexion. Mine Is thick and
‘muggy,’ and has purple bumps upon it. I have
used every wash I could hear of, with no result. I
am now using liorse radish and sour milk. Ih ve
also taken salts and different things internally;
but they do no good.” * * • Throw your
filthy washes and your salts out of the window, put
nothing on your face but pure wate 1 , -md drink
nothing but the sam.? (drop tea or coffee lor a while
at least) take exercise in the fresh air and eat very
little meat o ' butter. Eat freely of fruit—fresli and
coo-ed, baked apples especially, n your digestion
is out of order, take a “prescription ’ of tomatoes:
Pure lemon juice and water, or oranges are good
also. If you do not see au improvement in your
complexion in a short time, theno. r observation
a.ul experience are badly at fault.
Bartow writes: “I have been engage I eighteen
months lo a irl who is called the ‘ pattern young
lady” of our town. She is no rich, or handsome,
but she is very amiable aud industrious, ,s graceful
and ladylike anu is agoo-i friend t- the poor and
sick. She loves me dearly and has been faithful
ness itself tliroug a : l our engagement. We were
to marr the twentieth of next month (October)
but this summer I fell in love with a very beautiful
girl wbo spent two 'nont s with friends of mine
here I made love to her, and she sei mol t regard
me with special favor, though we .ire not engaged.
But I love her better than I do iny betrothed and
she is a s etter match iu point of social position,
though I do not tnink she is as amiable and unsel
fish as Miss H. I have not yet told her (my
fiancee) of my ’ove ior the other girl, and she has
such confidence in me, she does not suspect any
thing, but I can 1 ot marry her, at least I don’t see
how I can, loving another as I do. Do i’t you think
my best and must honorable course, would be to
tell her my feelings lia' e changed and ask her to
release me from tiie engagement ? ’ * * *
It won'd be tne best course for tiie girl no doubt, for
yotiare evidently a ficK 'e young ma >, but as to its
bein ■: the most honorable ou jour p rt, there is no
honor in it It is ? mem and cruel wrong when
done to a girl of such an earnest character and such
trustful devotion, tour only manly course would
b-to overcome the later inf'dilation, marry the
girl j’ou have been so leng engaged to, and ma<-e
her just as good a husband as yon can. A year after-
w.-rds, you will no doubt feel ashamed that v< u
even swerved trom your allegiance to her and will
laugh at your other attachment as a mere tancy for
a pretty nice.
A. R. L. saj's : “I am devoted to literature, I
think I have s ,me talent that way, but I am here in
the country, far from any literary centre, far :rom
public libraries or from intercourse with writers
a d critics. Under suc-h circumstance ii. is I sup
pose impossible to improve, or to give any vitality"
to on*, s written thought. I am poor, nut I might ' e
able t • rent a little room in some city and get on
there by living close and hard ; perhaps get : i' g
some pay now and then for what I might be able to
do for the press. Would not this be better?” *
* * It is very doubtful; the discomfort and
care and anxiety ot such a liie. tosaj not hi. g of
its tl', i t u ( on the health, wouiiS ha
effect
Is Selfishness a Sin?
Did you ever think how great a place self-love
occupies in the human family ? Not that we con
demn it. On the contrary we may be said to al
most admire it. Shall we prove the greatness of
this much decried element of character t and if we
prove it will you believe that selfishness (it’s ali the
same, you know), is not so bad as it has been painted
by a number who “strain at a gnat,” etc \ Under
stand. we do not mean that sordid selfishness that
makes men Shylocks, exacting the pound of flesh
always. We mean selfishness (modified, if you like,
but selfishness still!) the putting forth of the Ego
in everything. It may be that some of you are so
modest and so unselfish, have so little self-love, that
you think of yourselves in little letter “i’s”—but
the “I” is there if it is in the background. Take,
for instance, the two most unselfish impulses of the
heart—Chanty and Friendship (love is supremely
selfish.)
Do you love your friend ? Why do you love him (
Ask yourself these questions. The answer comes
readily—“Because he is genial. ” Yes, but you love
him through selfishness. Were he not personally
agreeable to you, did he not meet the requirements
of heart and brain, did not his society afford you
pleasure, rest assured that that man or woman
would not be your friend. If this is not selfishness,
the pleasing of self in selecting such friends, why
not take anybody ? or why discard him when he
proves to be not quite the man vou thought him ?
There are a great many people who would be grate
ful for your society, who need your advice, but
who are repulsive to you either in person or mind:
then why not, if it is not selfishness, select some of
these for your friend ? Everything can be traced
back to the a priori—Selfishness. Try and see if it
can’t {
Do you {five that beggar bread at vour door ? Is
it because he wants it i No, indeed'! but because
in giving him food you allay that uneasy sensation
commonly called compassion, and it puts you in a
better state of mind, and makes you feel so com
placent and charitable! “Know thyself,” you
selfish set, and quit disclaiming the self that saves
you. This is decidedly a dav of progress, but self®
love is the main-spring, the lever that lifts us out the
well-worn ruts into newer places. Don’t believe
it, do you ? We do not expect you to, not just yet!
C. H. B.
A locket suspended by a ribbon was found on the
dead body of the young Prince Imperial as he lay
in the majestic repose of death, the victim of that
insatiable thirst for glory which distinguished his
ancestors. Doubtless it was the memento of some
happy hour, a loved trinket bestowed by the hand
of affection. TV hen a member of the household in
our country embarks on a journey to a malarial
district, the most appropriate gift is a package of
Portaline, or Tabler’s Vegetable Liver Powder, a
cure for all disorders of a torpid liver. Price 50 cts.
Only about 2.000 women in the entire state of
Massachusetts have registered to vote for school
directors. This is a bad showing for a state
that has sent ont so many advocates of woman
suffrage. Of these 2.000 there ere 17 at Spring-
field, 50 at Westfield, 25 at Northampton, 4 at
Holyoke, 11 at Chicopee, 72 at Worcester. 115
at Lynn, and 140 at Boston. The books closed
on the 15th.
*ve a worse
upon your talent ti.an tue isolation of
your present life. And you are mistaken in thinking
that this isolation must necessarily cramp or petrify your
talent. On the contrary, if you really-possess gifts of im
agination and expression, the isolation from critical
cliques, and from tiie busy current of literary work
(muddy with turning money making-wheels) is good for
you: good on the score of originality, of individual
thought and expression. These will not be so apt to be
east in the usual mould, and smoothed and patted to
suit a stereotyped method of criticism. Never mind
being deprived of access to many books. Careful studv
ot a few really good ones is better than cursory skimmin-
ot many. As for intercouise with persons of kindred
pursuits the attrition of intellects-we hear so much
stress laid upon, there is ever so much humbug in it
yuch attrition may produce a superficial .sharp edge hut
it rubsaway the metal. There is apt to be a loss of the Im
agination and feeling that reserve fosters and intensifies
Ami literary people are as selfish as any other set more
so I think sometimes. That joyous, genial, generous
“ 1
have found in real life. Then if vou want Y,» IK ' er
real good, true artistic literary work keep away froS
newspaper drudgery. a " a J trom
'What you do for bread, will taste of common groin in-
stead of grapes.”
Dixie says. I like your Sunny South story, Dies Irae
\erj much, but what is the meaning of the name'’ We
plarn country folks here don’t know.” It i s ] atin fo
wmth!ni r V >r " "“I'- re / erri,,g ^ the Story to tht ‘ W”0dj r
wmthfm days onrCtvff war. The usual reference is to
the Day of Judgement. The expression originated in a
hymn composed m Latin by Thomas of Celano. a native
of Abruzzi, who lived, we believe, in the twelfth century
The hymn begins: '
Dies Irae, dies ilia
Solvet saeclum in favilla
Teste David cum Sybil la
Which is rendered in English thus,
On that day. that day of ire,
Saith the King of Wisdom’s sire,
Earth shall melt with fervent fire.
But do but note the superior melody and maiestie r .i 1
of the Latin. The use of the stately old dead lan^ult
is I think one secret of the hold the Catholic region
has upon the imaginations of the people Tn m !
low old Cathedral of Natchitoches I have'seen Jnoran
men and women swaying back ami forth in a kind lf . 1
staey, to the solemn rhymth of the statelv 1 »■
rolled from the lips of grand old Bishop Martffi “
Arthur asks: What is the meaning of Dom L - r T
tame across it the other dav in reading n v ^ nieT ' 1
various religion—a kind ^
Daniel, according to the Arabian Tni S worx. Dom
of evil spirits—“s<)mewher™und.-rth eS ’ mpans the abode
but not far from Babylon. ldtr the roots of the sea,”
Aleck asks: What is the meaning of
“gone to the dogs.” It fa said u> ,f e * ' ® exp f ss,on ,
down from the Romans, who called humU ‘ d
canis (dog.) A cast in dice where all was loB^th^!
meant ruin, loss, ill-luck
ng three aces; hence “dog
and go the bad generally.
Mattie S. says: My brother who married la*f win*
isth., wishes to celebrate the anniverxarv and ter ’ Dee '
« t,_ • umm ersarj and move into
“house-warming,” but
a new house too. He wants a
leaves it for his wife and myself to
conversant with such affaire, I wouid^w it NOt b ° i " S
favor for you to suggest something suS l? *
casion. Anything different from a social sum! ° L "
be agreeable, but I cannot think of anythin,? ? "° Uld
wife is a fine performer on the organ ,1 „ His
have a good one of the latter Whut is P1 ' lno ’ und we
en wedding, and when do they occu^t-^f aiM ' Wood_
ding occurs on the first marriage anniv * PUI J® r wed *
of books, magazines, pretty paper basket ^ u Presellts
Pictures, spatter wori? mS Zf
occasion. Also readings aud recitathms Y " ° D
write a graceful little poem or speech f o?' th U might
and read or recite it Music or a g£ofctol'T'**- 0 L"
gtve variety to the entertainment \ ? , ° ra,ftht
comes on the fifth marriage anniversary 0 " Weddinp