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VOL. V. J.H.&WRSEAL8,}™^ ATLANTA GA., NOVEMBER 8th, 1879.
Terms in advance:{
No. 226.
TO-DAY A REALITY-To-JIOBROW A
PHASTOR.
I sometimes tire of making vain endeavor
For things I never win, though sought, so long:
And wonder if my plans must fail forever,
And minor chord* creep into life’s low song,
Until my heart is heavy with its sorrow.
As things beyond me, always far away,
Keep beckoning on and whispering “To-morrow,”
But never hold the music of “To-day.”
The tliingsjust out of reach seem always fairer
Than any things to-day can have and hold.
To-morrow's snnsliine will be brighter, rarer;
And so we miss the present hours of gold.
To-day is lost in dreaming of To-morrow,
Ami while to-morrow comes, the heart will 1 ty
Plans for the future, thinking o'er in sorrow
The squandered blessings of the yesterday.
To lose the little joys of life forever.
In thinking of the far-off unattained,
And by and by, when fainting hope says “Never
Fo: hat we’ve missed, life's long regret is
gained.”
If we could take life's blessings as we find them.
And vague unres he banished from our ways.
So many would not mourn to see behind them.
Lost opportunities for joy and praise.
SONIA.
Translated from the French of Henri
(Jrevillc.
BY ANNIE MURRAY.
Wanted, a tutor for the Summer, by a family liv
ing in the country. For terms, address Madame
(Cien* ral i Goreliue,at the Ivtrskaia, Milakof House,
Moscow.
•Why not?’ said Boris Grebof, folding up the
paper in which he had read the advertisement.
‘Why not there, as well as elsewhere ? It is al
ways necessary to commence at some point, and
to-day will do as well as to-morrow.’
He rose, took up his walking-cane and went
ont to try his luck at finding the place.
One could not accuse him of having t,oo muichi
haste' iu uis walk; he walked with an indiffer
ent air, looking first to the right and then to
the left. The Tverskaia was some distance from
his home, to get there he had to traverse the
whole Cbiuese portion of the city, that pictur
esque market-place of Moscow, more like a Byz
antine town of the middle ages' than the sub
urbs of a capital of the nineteenth century. He
stopped everywhere, ready under the slightest
pretext to turn back. Fate, however, did not
furnish Lim the shadow of an excuse for his in
decision; and he arrived before the door of
General Goreline without having fonnd a rea
son to retrace his steps.
Upon knocking at the door, a Swiss porter
clothed in a very threadbare green uniform, or
namented with greasy yellow lace, emerged
from a small niche in the wall. A strong odor
of vegetable sonp made from sonr cabbage and
dry mushrooms accompanied this apparition.
‘What do you wish?’ asked he, in a very im
pertinent and familiar tone, examining the
youDg man from head to toot.
‘What do I wish ?' replied Grebof, in a tone of
voice exactly like that of the porter. ‘I wish to
see Madame General Goreline.’
‘Ah, you came tor the situation. You are a
tutor I see. Very well, walk up-stairs.’
‘What apartment up-stairs?' asked Grebof.
•On the fourth floor,’ he replied. ‘There have
already been maDy tutors, but none of them
suited.’
‘That is encouraging,’ murmured Grebof, to
himself, climbing, not without some efl' >rt, the
two last stories, as narrow as the ladder of a
mill, however, in comparison to the two first,
which were as comfortable as the stairs to an
archbishop’s palace.
‘Bah !' thought Grebof, ‘with an impudent
servant, and a staircase as difficult to ascend as
the mast of a ship, I will not please either and 1
will be like the rest.’
He stopped at the top of the stairs before a
door covered with faded cloth, and ornamented
with a brass plate on which was carved the name
of ‘Stephen Petrovitch Goreline,’ and rang. It
was some time before the bell was answered.
Losing his temper, he was about to ring more
vigorously, when he heard the footsteps of a
setvant hastening to open the door, and stop
ping a moment, doubtless to fasten the buttons
on his livery—and found himself face to face
with a small man with a timid air.
•Is Madame General Gorelin within ?' asked
the tutor, examining the uniform of the setvant,
with its whitened seams and well-worn button
holes.
The appearance of the place did not betoken
anything good, and he baa a mind to go away.
‘Madame is in,' replied the little man in a
hollow voice. ‘Are yon come for the situation,
sir ?’
‘Yes; for the situation,’ said Boris bluntly,
gr-atly exasperated. ‘It appears everybody in
the house knows my business !’
The little man, greatly startled, recoiled a
step or two and answered hurriedly:
‘Madame has ordered that all who came for
the place should be received. Do you wish to
enter ?’
Boris was introduced into a salon furnished
with garnet velvet. The bangings had cruelly
suffered from depredations of the moth, the pa
pering was tarnished in places, the varnish of
the arm-chairs was rubbed off, and the worn car
pet covering the floor testified by the whimsi
cality of its design, to the tact of its having
been repeatedly patched.
A full-length portrait of General G >relin,wich
all his decorations, and a view of oaunons in the
distant landscape, ornamented the left portion
of the wall. To the right, hanging over a lounge
half concealed by a table covered with albnms,
was another portait, also life-size, rather re
markable for the execution, the original of
which must have been very beautiful. The tine
features, which looked as if carved in ivory,
were heightened by coloring rather mild tnan
brilliant, like the tints of Bengal roses, paled
‘ many thiugs for my sake, and it is for me now
i to make my own living, as do many students of
my age without complaining. Nevertheless, the
sacrifice would be too painful to me, if I could
not see you before Christmas. I shall find
means of making you a visit before I begin my
university coarse. Write to me, my cherished
mother, that you approve of what I have done,
for if my going abroad will occasion you any
regrets, I will renounce my projects.’
Having added a fdw words more he sealed his
letter and addressed it. ‘Varvara Petrovna, pro
prietress in the village of Grebov-i, district of
Kostrovna.'
The following Sabbath he received a reply.
This worthy woman loved her son too well not
to be willing to deprive herself of his presence.
Sue had wept much whilst writing her letter,
but not one of her tears had stained the paper.
The holy images, before which she knelt morn
ing and evening, alone knew what her resigna
tion cost hor,
‘But endeavor to ccme and seo me in autumn,’
added she, ‘for I am growing oid and am not
vet accustomed to be so long without seeing
yon.’
Boris knew well what was conoea'ed behind
this simple request. He pressed the letter to
his lips, and went out to dine with Madame
Goreline.
by autnmnal frost. The expression of the coun
tenance was that of all commanding portraits —
smiling and void.
•J.f this is MadaiheGoreliue, 'said Boris.exam
ining the picture, ‘she has been qnite pretty,
must still possess some of that youthful beauty,’
A rustling of silk wa3 heard, and Boris, turn
ing round, saw Madame Goreline crossing the
room. She made a slight bow to the young
man aH she came forward, and seated herself
just under her own portrait.
The habit which she had formed in her youth
of endeavoring to look as beautiful as her por
trait, in order to prove to the world that it did
not flatter her, had been fatal to her beauty.
Let me introduce you to Madame Goreline as
she is at the present day. Time has discolored
her teeth, reddened her nose, sharpened her
features, and a severe, but affectedly civil smile
had replaced the laughing expression of h9r
countenance.
‘She is nothing remarkable,’ said Boris to
himself, while Madame Goreline seated herself,
and motioned to him with French politeness, to
do the same.
•Take a seat, I beg of you. You wish to pass
the summer with us ?’ continued Madame with
a kind look.
Boris inclined his head iu token of assent.
•These are my conditions,’ continued she. ‘I
wish to employ some one to fake charge of the
education of my little sou E i He is elev
en years old, and very gentle. 1 do not think
so because I am bis mother, but, truly every
one agrees that he is very good. Onr neighbors
in the country adore him. I wish him to enter
college in the autumn, and he ninst be as well
prepared as is possible in the scieuces and lan
guages. Do you speak French ?’
‘Yes, madame,’
‘And German ?’
‘I speak that language poorly, never having
had much practice; but I can teach as much as
is necessay for the entrance examination.’
•Do yon understand Latin and Greek?’
‘So many accomplishments are not required
to enter a boy s first class in oollege,’ replied
Boris, repressing a smile: the conversation was
beginning to amuse him; ’but 1 understand the
two languages equally well. I was three years
in the university, and I took a course in philos
ophy.’
Madame Goreline immediately became more
communicative.
‘You see,’ she said, ‘it is necessary that a boy
be well instructed so as not to be at a loss to an
swer questions that might be asked of him. I
myself am sometimes unable to answer my son’s
questions, still, I make some reply in order to
preserve my dignity. Do you understand chil
dren’s ways ?’
•Not in the least,’ replied Boris.
‘Ah. I suppose you have never taught iu the
summer?’
‘No, madame, this is the first time.’
‘Ah. indeed, and you have been a student
three years?’
■Yes, madame.’
‘That is singular.’
She stopped and looked fixedly at the young
man, whose countenance had become a little
disdainful, and did not dare to continue the
course of her investigation.
‘It is singular,’ continued she, after a moment
of silence, ‘that you have never spent a summer
in a family; but in my opinion that is no fault;
quite the contrary. I desire that you will be to
my son more a companion than a master.’
‘This,’ said Boris in an undertone, ‘is good
for what it is worth, ‘bnt kept his thoughts to
himself.
‘We spend the summer near Smolensk,’ con
tinued the lady, ‘where I have a country-seat.
We expect to leave on the fourteenth of May;
that is to say, eight days from Taesday. Yon
can accomyany us if you desire, or join us the
next day if you prefer; there is a diigence that
will convey yen within a few versts of mv house.
I will write out the ad ires-■ for you. You will
have plenty of leisure. My son Eugene is yet
quite a child and four hoars of Btndy will bb
sufficient for him. You can ride on horsebaok,
I suppose, and there is a river near by, where
www aw mw
JAVANESE JUGGLERS AND STREET MUSICIANS—See 4th Page.
you can bathe; in fine, yon will be treated as
one of the family, ‘added VUT ^ 'e.^'ith a very
engaging smile, which sfekffAy teeth.
•How lovely,'it all seebtsfit fiAst sig‘ v .‘{’ thought
Boris, very much amused. * 1
‘As to the terms,’ said Madam Goreliue, be
coming a little severe. ‘I will give you twenty
roubles a month—that is, sixty roubles for the
summer.’
These last words appeared to cause her some
distress, for she was silent and began to toy
with her handkerchief, which was torn near the
embroidered monogram on it.
‘I cannot take less than one hundred roubles,’
said Boris.in a poiite but resolute tone.
‘One hundred silver roubles to prepare a small
boy for college ! But really, sir, there is so lit
tle for yon to do, and you can do what you wish
in your own time—’
‘I do not know whether the trouble will be
great or not. ’interrupted Boris, quietly,’ ‘but
I will not accept less than a hundred roubles.’
Madame remained very much embarassed.
Boris pleased her. His modesty, his dignity,
the air of superiority of the young man, which
was shown in a manner Dot offensive to her self-
love, but which was sufficient to warrant her in
saying, ‘1 have secured a superior man,' all had
impressed her.
‘All suits very well,’ sh6 thought, ‘but one
hundred roubles.’
‘I regret, madame,’ said Boris, rising, ‘that
yon are not able to give that.’
He said this in French, and so correctly, and
with so little of the Muscovite;acoent that the
lady, laying her hand on his arm. desired him
to reseat himself.
‘Is that your decision?’ she said.
‘I never retract; it does not show good taste,’
he replied.
‘It is an enormous sum; but since you wish
it, I must agree to that. As you will have so
many free hours, would you be good enough to
give my daughter lessons in French grAmmir?
She finished her course last year, bn! I .ear she
has forgotten some things - Lydia ! she cried.
‘Mama,’ answers a youthful voice.
‘Come here.'
The door opened, and Boris saw the original
of the portrait enter, Madame Goreline, re
stored to youth in the person of her daughter, a
laughing, blushing giri of striking appearance,
proud of her beauty and aware of her power. It
was Miss Lydia Goreline.
‘My child.’ said the mother, ‘here Is M.—
What is your name ?’
‘Boris Ivanovitch Grebof.
‘Here is Boris Ivanovitch, who will spend the
summer with us in the country, and will assist
you in learning French.’
The young lady cast on Grebof a look half-
su'len, half-satisfied, no doubt, in having for a
tutor such a handsome young man. Boris was
rather prepossessing, bnt she disliked the
trouble of reviewing her French studies.
•You will dine with us on Snnday, and be
come acquainted with my husband; and yon
will see my son Eugene also; he is out walking
now. I am sorry, for I should like to have von
see him. Well, we will leave it till Sunday.’
In spite of Madame's reasons for wishing to
detain him, Boris arose, bade adieu to the two
ladies, and retired. The little man who had ap
peared so startled, came to give his overcoat
and while putting it on iu the ante-ohamber, he
overheard Lydia say to her mother in a very de
cided tone of voice:
•I do not want it, mama. I do not wish it.
I detest grammar, and I will not review !’
‘Listen to me, my dear,’ said Madame Gore
liue, ‘this tutor is very expensive to us, and we
must make him useful.’
•I do not wish to use him,’ replied Miss
Lydia.
The door was closed, and Grebof heard no
more.
As he went out the Swiss again came out from
his seat iu the wall.
‘Well, how now, sir?’ he said.
‘Well, my fine fellow,’ said Boris, smiling,
•we have suited each other this time.’
‘The general will be well pleased,’ said the
Swiss. ‘All this running in and out of the house
annoys him.’
^ -Oh, the general. Udid lo* see hire or hear
bim,’ said Boris. ‘Ah ! all is for the best.
Such droll people !’
CHAPTER II.
In traversing the streets to get to his home,
Boris felt a vague sensation of sadness.
•I have given up my liberty,' said he, and the
thought worried him more than he was willing
to confess. ‘The chain, however, does not
threaten to be very heavy,’ he said to himself,
‘and three months is but a short time; and then 1
the one hundred roubles will prevent the ne- |
ctssity of giving lessons next winter, and I shall
have time to prepare for my own examination j
at my leisure-’
To better shake off the melancholy feeling, he ‘
entered the Kremlin Gardens and ascended the i
hill. He wished to think over the matter more
freely; besides tbe garnet walls that encircled j
Madame Goreline’s parlor hud a suffocating ef
fect on him.
Having reached the top of the esplanade, cov
ered with churches which crown the Kremlin,
he leaned his elbow on the parapet and watched j
the panorama which was spread out before him. |
The innumerable domes, the steeples of every ;
form and all colors emerged every-here from j
islets of houses, and a bright ray of sunshine
made the tremendous gilded cupola of the
Church of St. Sauveur shine out in splendor.
At his feet lay the river, shining like a highly
polished steel blade, and further off, towards
the country, the hills clothed in vtrdnre, and
the monasteries, with their thousand gay colors
in the midst of fertile fields arrayed in the ten
der foliage of spring.
The swallows flew joyously around the bel
fries; the vivacious hopes of former days sud
denly stole again into the heart of the young
man. A gust of wind nearly carried away his
hat; he caught it, laughing, and like all con
querors, all posts, and many others besides who
have left no name behind theta, be cried out:
•I will be something; the future is before me !' j
Saluting with a triumphal gesture the city;
which ignored his very existence, he descend- |
ed the hill rapidly. He returned to his home j
and began writing to his mother.
•Mi dear Mother -I have told you that I was j
lookiug for a place for the summer in order to )
be able to pat enough money aside to work, i
without any obstacle next winter. I have fonnd 1
a place where, being master part of my time, I j
will make a hundred roubles without mnoh j
trouble. I am sure you wilt be as satisfied as j
iu j self, knowing how useful this sum will be to j
me. You can rest assured, however, that I I
should have much preferred to pass the sum
mer near yon in our dear little village.'
Here Boris stopped. The dear village with
its shabby cottages, the great swing on the green
which always caught in the birch trees when
sent too high, making the perfumed leaves rain
down on the green turf and transparent water;
the choruses of the little peasants in their gay
dresses on feast days, and the old horse, blind
of one eye, so that one had constantly to drive
to the right in order to prevent him from going
to the left; and the old fashioned wagon, with
which his mother used to explore the distant
parts ol their small domain—at! of these loved,
familiar thiugs, redolent with the perfumed re
membrances of childhood, passed before him in
an instant. He leaned his head upon his fold
ed arms, while his eyes filled with tears.
For the first time in twenty years he would
not be able to revisit that dear village, and who
knew what was in store for him in that new
home where he had promised to go?
Ho arose and made two steps towards the
door, ready to break his engagements. Bnt
overcoming his weakness, he took up his pen
again and continued resolutely:
Our dear village, where I fear the time will
pass slowly without me, as it will appear long
to me without yon—but you know, my good
mother, that our modest fortune will not permit
you to make any furtner sacrifices for my fu
ture. You have already deprived yourself of
CHAPTER III.
Miss Lydia had probably taken a dislike to
the tutor on account of the French grammar,
for she was not at the repast of the family. She
had chosen that day to visit one of her friends
and about four o'clock she sent her word that
she would dine with her.
Madame Goreline was worried, and her hus
band as usual was the viotim chosen for her ill-
humor.
Oue could not imagine a more insignificant,
more active or more philosophical being than
General Goreiine. Acoustomed never to open
his mouth iu the presence of his better-half, he
had early taken the programme of silence. But
the way he made up for lost tim" when he found
one whu would is ten to mm ! As intolerant to
wards others as his wife was towards nim, he
\ threw cut his opinions solid as the bronze of
; the cannons of his battery; but the emitted
i opinion was forgotten as soon as uttered, and
i the next day he was ready to demolish it to
| powder with as much ease and as lightly as an
artillery-shell rolls over the blinds of a trench,
i Madame Goreline’s ‘charming child,'her son
Eugene was a terrible one, just like all other
boys, and neither more nor less intelligent, bat
| dreadfully impertinent to his father, owing in a
: great measure to the manner in which Madame
| Goreliue spoke to her husband in the presence
j of their children.
i Dinner, scanty an pretentious, was exactly
1 what the garnet salon promised. There was a
delicate fish, but if was too small for the num
ber of guests, and, divided among two or three,
gave each some crumbs, drowned iD the may-
onaise gravy. The salad was made with rancid
oit and sour vinegar produced bv domestic pro
cess. The repa-'t passed off without any acci
dent. The mistress of the house overwhelmed
P.oris with kind attentions and savory morsels,
Eugene, intimidated at the presence of the new
comer, conducted himself in a satisfactory man
ner, aud the general was so absorbed that he
did not open his month after the first compli
ment expressed in four words:
‘Charmed io see you.’
Tne other guests, to the number of four or
five,were nninteresting. They had beguu a dis
cussion upon the respective merits of the differ
ent types of cows, both in respect to the quali
ty of flesh and milk
Boris was really worried. His countenance
perhaps betrayed his feelings, for Madame
Goreline took it upon herself to give him a very
engaging description of their country-seat.
They passed on into the salon to take coffee.
Boris was thinking of a way to make his es
cape without committing herself, when the door
of the salon opened and Madmoiselle Lydia en
tered, all blushing and smiling, dressed in
white, with broad blue ribbons, aud a boquet of
white lilacs in her hand.
Boris, struck by her radiant beauty, regarded
her more attentively than he had yet done She
perctived this, and bestowed on him a very
friendly greeting with a smile mingled with a
shade of modest satisfaction.’
’Yon have returned very soon indeed, said
her mother. They must have dined early.’
‘No. ‘ replied Mademoiselle Lydia, seating her
self opposite Boris, ‘but I was tired staying so
I left soou after dinner. ‘
•I am glad you stayed away,* cried Eugene,
‘for we have all had larger slices of cake. ‘
Madame Goreliue rolled her large eyes at the
terrible child. Labor in vain however, for he
coutinned:
•If you had been here there would not have
been enough tor everybody,for papa took more
than his share. ‘
Madame Goreline concealed her anger under
a tit of laughter. Mademoiselle Lvdia evident
ly discontented with the turn the conversation
had token, turned towards Baris and said, in a
very sweet voice:
■t)o you you leave with us next Taesday, sir?*
‘I do not know yet, Mademoiselle. •
‘You must decide, Boris Ivanovitch/ said
Madame Goreline. ‘If you come, we will take
the carriage and the caleche; otherwise we will
only need the carriage, aud I will send my maid
by the diligence**
‘We four iu the carriage ?‘ interrupted Made
moiselle Lydia. ‘No, mama. I will not go in
the carriage with pupa who frets the whole of
the journey, and Eugene, who kicks every one.*
‘Which do you prefer me to do ?‘ asked Boris
of Madame Goreline.
•If you come I will put you in the oaleche
with Eugene, and take m> maid with me.*
L dia made a little impatient gesture.
•Won't yon come M. B »r>s?‘ said she. ‘It is
very amusing traveling io a caravan and then
we spend the night at a hotel. ‘
Continued on 5th page.