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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.