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VOL. V. J. H. & W B. SEALS,} SKKS&SSg ATLANTA, GA„ DECEMBER 27, 1879. Terms in Advance:} Q^ s T^^% 0 o No. 233. <i!oins lloiiii'. nni YOUNG husband's evening song. All day lonj; 1 have labored and wrought. And now my labor’s done. For softly from you radiant cloud Smiles down the setting sun, Happy, happy. happy! O, happy, happy am I ! I'm going home to the sweetest eyes Beneath this evening sky ! All day in the dull, blind world of men I’ve toiled for love and home; And now I’m coining to you. my dear, To rest till morning come, Gavly. gayly, g* i ly. O, gayly, gavly 1 come. For the truest heart in all the land Is waiting for me at home. Some time wher labor is done for us, And sorrow's passed away: When the eye i- dim, and sunk the cheek, And the hair is thin and gray— Deeply, deeply, deeply! O deeply mv dear anil I Shall sleep together a dreamless sleep Beneath the evening sky. flic iii tor l,iimlseai>(‘. Leafless are the trees; their purple branches Spread themselves abroad, like reefs of coral Rising silent In the Red Sea of the winter sunset. From the hundred chimneys of the village, Like the Afreet in the Arabian story, Smoky columns Tower aloft into the air of amber. At the window winks the flickering fire-light; Here and there the lamps of evening glim mer. Social wntehfires. Answering one another througn the darkness. On the hearth tile lighted logs are glowing, And. like Ariel in the clover pine-tree, For its freedom. Groans and sighs the air imprisoned in them. It tell it ml INior. In pal.'ires are hearts that ask In discontent and pride, Why life is such a dreary task. t i And all goi'd things denied 1 -/.uf I'A-ina i,poorest huts ad: X; Jt d i love has in their aid V ,L n e that not. ever seems to tiro; . Such rich provision made. i,ra|H'S or Thorus. We aiust not hope to lie mowers Ami to gather the ripe gold ears. Until we liave first lieen sowers. And watered the fuiTows "w ith tears. Itis nut just as we take it This mystical world of ours: Life's field will yield, as we make it, \ harvest of thorns or flowers! He True. Thou must lie true thyself if thou the truth wouldst teach: Thy soul must overflow, it thou Another's soul would reach: It the overflow of heart To give flic lips full speech, Think trillv, and thy thoughts Shall t lie world's famine feed: Sp at truly- and each word of thine Shall lie a truthful seed; Live truly, anil thy life shall be A jnv-u.t and n«»bh‘ creed. jj passing ;ni n * wnen aifi *rrn DOLORIS! OB, Jhe Queen of the Weird Gharm. SHE SAT ALONE IN THE TROPIC WILDERNESS. The Most Intensely Thrilling Story of the; Nineteenth Century, -py Capt. 3U. 3VX. UAYH. CHAPTER HI- heh story. , „ , .If oiaiosite him on the She seated '’f ' p. \vas oneof child-like mossy rm-k. herahtud ,1,-ooped, her grace—her slight figure a , )e r. her ,.yes hands loosely claspej 1 unsounded depths earnest trustful, yet M * >» voice was of mystery and ' was a subtle, ..'overinitemusm strait, penetrative power m inv lineage from ‘I too.’' sheliegau, wil s a Span the \\ estern world. > who her parents ,>sh girl—bum in Me- first recollection were she never ^mthv-moustached Mexican was of a swarthy. 1,1 ' on the tightrope who taught her to P e he ^ whenever she and the trapeze and he said, and fell. She was bound . on’her to a travel- when she was fourteen • ghe led. Car ing circus. ]t was a bn ^ foml f ea ts ried here anil there.imj a „d activity that required incredible o) . peart-sick when she was weary ,,. nt h e rless and un- with the loneliness of: a must work, for friended creature- ./ t -hicf attraction her performances were s i, ( , lav sleep- of the show and »*"?* nerV ous'cxh;ms- less; aching with f*tig , . had made the tio» after those tea ^fpW’breath while thoughtless ,-rowds noia noisy np« they lasted and then break tfiause. f,.recd to g° tlirough One night, she wa \* ’ 4,1 nerves were un- these performances ghe became suil- strung with incipient lew thp trapeze bar —an Englishman of high family, hut who from lioyh-Mid had lieen estranged from his fieopli-—having mortally offended his father by refusing to enter the ministry or the army and his mother hy r declining to marry an ug ly and'ill-tempered heiress. He hail left his home and became a wanderer in wild lands. He sjtont five years in South Africa among savage men and animals, and here he devel oped his strange gift for taming wild beasts— control ing them by some inherent power of magnetism, or by the spell of a strong, calm, will. From Africa he came to South Ameri ca, to Honduras, to Mexico, and finally at San Antonio, having liecome wholly estrang ed from his family, he eonnected himself with the itinerant company to which my mother belonged and was known as Herr Wetzel 1— the wonderful Beast Tamer, whose control of savage lions, bears, panthers and even hyenas was a chief feature of the exhibitions. “More than once had lie befriended the Trapeze girl and protected her from abuse and insult. When he Lire her lifeless form from the King, and when, on recovering, she turned her eyes swimming with gratitude up on him, he felt an emotion he had never known before. They were married—those two whose only home was a circus tent. My poor mother had a gleam of true happiness—brief indeed, for 1 M-fiire four years Lor life had ended, and I was left a helpless little one, on my father's hands, He took care of me himself; no woman wils ever gentler, no mother ever kinder, than this pule, melancholy man, with the silent ways strung with incipient* ' , the trapeze bar | and the look in his eyes that quieted savage d® 1 ! that dizzy height. She | beasts and made them crouch at his feet. I andfeHbeadhmg fio .irgd had not her i too inherited something of this strange gift, would liave fieen^tatany^J ^ strong arms. | When I was older, I got the men who fed the beasts to take me with them on their rounds and to let me feed some of them that were east savage. I shook hands with the vicious fall been broken by a pair — of the me- They belonged to the Lion tain ghow t(i „ s nagerie—he v. ho appeared on tw e] Marr asHerr W etzeU, who was in taci. baboon, Jezebel, through the bars of her cage, and the fierce-eyed wild-cats took food from my fingers. One day, after we were in Loudon at the National Museumaiul Hippro- dume which had bought out our menagerie, my father was taming a lioness not long from the jungles of India. I managed to slip in the cage at his heels unperceived, and lying down in the straw, was left there when lie went out. I was roused from one of my child isli reveries by a hot, panting breath on my cheek. The lioness was smelling me as i lay; I sprang up quickly and sat facing the splendid, tawny creature that glared at me with eyes a-flame. I looked at her in turn; I felt no fear. She growled low and deep, and her tail moved slowly to and fro. I held out my hand to her, she growled again. I touched her forehead; she permitte i the touch and snuffed my hand in a friendly way. At this moment, my father, pale and fright- tened, opened the door, and snatched me to his arms. The next day the lioness killed one of the keepers. My father grew more moody and restless. At last he quit the museum, left London, and went to travel in the East. I was his constant companion. We traveled over half of Africa together, settling down for awhile in huts here and there among the wild people, over whom my father exerted a wonderful influence. The spirit of unrest was upon him, and from Africa he came here to New Guinea. I was now passing out of childhood, but my father did not seem to know it. He still treated me as a child. When I was ill or grieved, he held me in his arms, and I shed all my tears on his bosom. He had lieen ray only teacher. We had but two hooks, Shaks- jm*. re and the Brahmin liible. I knew both by heart. But he taught me many things not in any hooks hut the great mystic one of Nature. In this he was learned beyond ordi nary men. He was my all—my one friend and protector. I never thought that he, so strong and wise, could die and leave me, and I do not believe he contemplated such a prob ability. But the blow came suddenly— w- fully. He was stricken down in an hour by congestion of the brain. Oh! the agony of that day. He was speechless; he couid only move liis lips in his desperate effort to speak, while his eyes turned on me with such an guish as I can never forget. He knew he was-leaving me alone in a strange, savage land. He died; the natives, who had looked on him as a great medicine man, buried him with barbarous pomp, beat their tomtoms over his grave ami poured palm oil and per fumes upon it. 1 lived on in the palm-thatch id hut with the old native woman, who had been our servant. No one molested me,’ until one evening as I was returning from my father’s grave, a man burst from the woods, seized ine, and with the assistance of another, bound me to a horse, tied a clot h over my mouth and carried me away. When ila}- dawned, I saw that we were inside a narrow mountain gorge, with precipitous, rocky sides. A few hours after we entire,1 a valley that looked like an area devnstled by earthquake or volcanic throes. Thlwas Gold Valley in which you have lieen 'irking. My captor was Dahl the snperintendHt <it the mines—the despot who ordered youi> be bound to the tree for hav ing resented he insult of one of the black overseers. II would have made me hisslave (1 will not dele rate the name of wife) but I made him frame. You know the supersti tious terror iiorant people have of insanity. 1 pretendeijn he seized with a mad fit when ever lie triejso touch me. My eyes flamed; I writhed i wild contortions anil gnashed my teeth, lr a time this protected me; but at length he iscovered tin* deception prac ticed upon hu and swore it should not serve again. Tnat day 1 Ylked in the gathering dusk in the walled mien that surrounded my prison. Viserfle and despairing, 1 knelt and prayed to y father's spirit, either to let me (lie, orto lip me escape from my brutal tormentor. At in answer to my prayer I heard a ristlamiler the fig leaves a soft soft hiss aid a bra—deadliest of serpents— reared its crestthead and coiled swiftly for a spring, rigfcwas my first impulse; my next the thoiglthat here was death that I had prayed hi'.Better the serpent’s fangs than the enartis of a sensual brute. I stood still, lookiufraight into the eyes of the ser pent. It did notrike. It looked at me as iffas- cinated: a snge expression as of intelligent compreliens, yes, of sympathy came into those hrighliamond eyes. I have often seen that eission in the eyes of lieasts that men hate .near' I have never had that horror of tk,* an inward* voice seemed to say, “Behoourkindred; unfortunate, sep arated frunu by barriers of difference that reasoning, Bring a false disgust and dread, makes grea” So I did shrink from tyie cobra, I drew closer to itiut out my hand and touched it; the angrest dropped on the instant— the creaturrered its head and came crawl ing to my f A suddemiration seized me; the snake might becony savior. I took it up in mv hands and p in the basket of grapes anil grape-lea' clad gathered, and carried it to my roon That nigger orders had lieen received from Dahlt all should retire I lay on my bedy heart throbbing as if it would burst? lamp burned low on a little table by mer the lamp sat the basket of grapes wit? cobra lying among the bunches. 11 Dahl’s step at my door. I lifted the s from the basket and let it coil beside When the half-drunken wretch parte curtains I lay there quiet in my white my long hair and the mus lin coverlet ^ the serpent. He put out his hand to tine. I threw back the cov erlet, the colared its bead with a horrid hiss; and Dwith a loud cry of terror dropped the in and fled. “She is the devil—the devil!” I heard hint 1 cry as he rushed out. "1 rose up quickly, dressed myself, made up a small bundle, took up the basket in which I had replaced my friend, the cobra, and came out into the front part, of the house. There all was confusion; t walked straight up to Dahl and demanded to be let out of the house. He east a terrified look at the ser pent I carried and flung me the keys without a word. I walked out of the building, out of the iron gate of the gardens. Once under the quiet night sky, there ciime the thought, what should I do ? After mv night’s experi ence 1 no longer feared the Serpent's Pass. I determined to escape tlirough this outlet and make my way back to the hut that had been my home and then to the coast where a ves sel might take me to civiliz il shores. “Fearing to enter the Pass at nignt, when the magnetism that seemed to belong to my look would not be potent in the darkness, I waited till daylight, and then turned mv steps towards the fatal valley. Like you 1 neither saw nor heard the serpents that gave the Pass its name of terror until drawn here to this spot by thirst and the sound of gush ing waters. There I saw the same frightful spectacle that paralyzed vou an hour ago— the serpents of the valley gathered here in waiting for their prey—the animals that come to drink at the only spring of the val ley. Surprise and dismay seized me, unnerved me for a moment, then l stepped forward and faced the same monster that came so near being your death—the largest serjient of the valley. Fold upon fold he was wrapped about yonder tree, his enormous head stretched out and vibrating up and down within a few feet of my head. As his eyes met mine, a dizzy, numb, half pleasant sensation came over me, my blood seemed to stagnate, my nerves to disregard the command of the will. It was but for an in stant, a desperate struggle mastered the sub tle influence, I returned the reptile’s look calmly, steadily. The flame flickered in his eyes, I put out my hand and touched the huge flat scaly head, and slowly, sullenly the serpent king drew back and retreated up among the boughs of the tree. them with him when lie wandered into the woods. J had this with me wrapped like a girdle around my waist when Dahl and his minion carried me off. A providential fore sight mafic me bring it with me when I eaine here. It has served me well four nights. It j has given me safety, as I slept under the i stars in the open space at the mouth of the ! Pass.” ! ‘‘But you might have made your way i through the vuiley in one day. Why did you | stay ! why did you not push on through the j Pass ?” ! She did not answer for a moment. She i gave him a level, wistful look from her soft i eyes, and then dropped the lashes over them while a blush overspread her face. “Do you remember seeing me before ?” she asked softly. “Yes; you came with two other women and Dahi to t-ie mines one day, as we were brought up to be marched to our sleeping den. You flung a flower down at my feet as I passed.” “Yes.” “And another time you came. Then you dropiied me a large yellow banana anil warn ed me by a look not to eat it then. I took a secret moment that night to examine the fruit. The peeling was only glued together, and inside ir. 1 found a knife, furnished with a strong blade and a steel saw. A note was wrapped around it; "Try to escape. I will hope anil pravforyou. The Serpent’s Pass is not so terrible ils vour present life.” And it was you who gave me this; I recognize you by your voice and your shape: your face was veiled, but I would know that sweet voice among a thousand.” Once more a blush tinged her throat and brow. “Now,” she said, “you understand why I lingered here, mid win 1 came out every night and watched around your prison. Tile tierce guard dogs were soon mv friends; awl- I watched there hoping you might escape and knowing I could help you through the dangers of the Pa-s.” “My sweet friend, my beautiful,’’ mnr- mure . Treganee, taking her hands and press- | ing them tenderly,. “One night, I side out as usual: I was i uiv way to She miner'*; pibsoiv, . to a tree, a white' face teaming like marble in the moonlight caught | mv sight ami arrested my steps. * "1 thought you dead at first, but I climbed on a rock and touched your face softlv; it «a.s warm; you were alive. I cut your cords and crept back in the underbrush: there l watched till you awoke at (lawn. I saw you take your way to the Serpent's Pass,and preceded you, flitting unseen by you " from clumps of undergrowth and piles of rock. I kept you in sight till the moment you paused and stood hesitating. I knew you would soon find the fountain where the danger lay and hurried thither to be ready to quell the serpents, meanwhile scooping you a drinking vessel from the sweet Papuan pear gourd. You came sooner than I expected by a few moments—moments that came near costing you your life. Thanks t j the Free Spir it that 1 was not too lata* to save you.’* She clasped her hands and her eyes shone as through tears. “I blame myself; but 1 will repay you for that moment, by after service.” 1 Manic yourself for nothing my guardian angel; sweetest saviour and protectress" cried Iregance, the gallant and enthusiastic in an ecstasy of admiring gratitude. But ns he pressed her hands to his lips, the touch of the fid, pliant skin sent a shiver through him Involuntarily he glanced at the diamond eyes the black coils of hair, the long lithe neck! the sinuous shape .and nnce inure he shuddered. Her quick eye, her subtle insight at once per- eieved the change. A shadow darkened her lace, her eyes lost their softness. . ,, ^ not call me angel: you do not mean tt she said hurriedly. You have not full confidence in me. You hide somethin**- in your breast.” ° “Only gratitude and love” protested Tre ganee unable to be other than the silver- tongued flatterer even lien* in this dangerous wilderness with tins half civilized child of nature. She frowned: “you are not truthful; there is something else, she said. ‘Only this, answered Treganee seriously. I do not think you have been wholly candid in describing your power over serpents and T ’ S somethi "g else beside the magnetism of your eye and touch some thing you will not tell." Her face grew dark, her contract, and their pupils to darken U ' m t0 Aon are right,” she said at last.' “But it is my fathers secret. He had a hint of it from an eastern fakir, afterwards he learned the secret from his researches into the mvsti- ca! lore of the ancient Serpent Worshipper-* He revealed it to me only three days lifore his death. It shall never escape me, for I <-ave him my promise. It shall die with me. But friend’'” ' 10t th ' nk ,ess of nie for this my After him, it was easy to conquer the les ser reptiles. It was only at night there was danger.” “What indeed could you do at night I” “I had provided myself with a resource. Do you see this rojie ! It is made of horse’s hair, rough and bristly to the touch. The cattle minders of the Mexican and Texas ranches, the hunters of the Rocky Mountains protect themselves at night, from serpents and deadly centipedes by these ropes. With these they encircle a space on the ground, inside of which they sleep securely. Neither rattlesnake, nor moccasin, nor adder will crawl over it, for the snake is extremely sen sitive and the rope with its rough bristles is avoided as if it were a chain of lire. My father always kept these ropes, and carried bis arm around the slender supple waist' lose Let (’1vfnC v he S i"' 1 !‘"' e have no time to ftirX's.w.ttsa sk*ks £1 !„T,,“V' int of -™ ,r "-“""p. f win “P'°b DOt Men worship the only God ?” think s!f- «!f 1 0n ^f hr°d ? My father did not think so, and my father had spent many years mdeep research into all the mysteries tasting vigils and s,,1, n-itm-u... 'm i,S and soll ’tary eommuion with nature and his own soul. In the beginnim*- Uu-ht to call }fi° S V irit V " lieen taugfit to call them Good and Kell. The one is cold stern, narrow; just hut merciless upright but unlovely; the other is warm elastic,—the spirit of freedom, and love and beauty, which is also truth and wisdom \ou call it Evil, but the evil is only relative- lt fJ’°w so ut of the antagonism of this .Spirit w ith the other—out of its partial and restrain ed exercise; for the Iron Spirit is dominant the spirit of freedom and beauty is down fettered by hard traditions and condf- tuins that have grown out of the violation of nature. Some day in the far future the tot tored spirit shall be triumphant. Men shall tie free and happy. I„ the m lantinm there Tratth—my'father—” <lerStand a “ d (Continued on eighth page.