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BpigBBp v x ■"¥ o : « m SO. 241- r one Year. *--®®- Terms in Advance; t m»«i* *«>»*> 5 ' VOL. threats tin- juiblie I*i-> pictitrem OOYliiitirr and LonsfVIlow. BY PAft II. HAY.NE. | beneath tlic Quakcr-poot's tranquil roof. | From all dull discords of the world aloof, I sit once more, and measured converse hold With him whose nobler thoughts are rythmic gold; Sec his deep brows half puckered in a knot O’er some hard problem of our mortal lot Or a dream soft as May winds of the South " ,lft a Ptrl s sweetness round his firm-set mouth. Or should he deem Wrote- weal. Isr! the whole man-corns girt with flashing stool: His glance a sword-thrust and his words of ire I.ike thunder-tones from some old prophet's lyre. Or by the hearth-stone, when the day is done i'm-k swi* •; a, ' a sac ten shafl .1 f„ , j ine snort quirk laugh, the smartly smitten knees, ! And all sure tokens of a mood at ease. Discerning which, by some mysterious law I Near to his seat two household favorites draw < I ill on her master's shoulder, sly B „d sleek ' | (irimalkin, mounting, rut,- his furrowed chock : j While terrier Dick, denied all words to rail, | Snarls, a* he shakes a short, protesting tail 1 Hut with shrewd eyes says. lls p la i n as plain can be, Drop that sly eat, I'm worthier far than she." j And he who loves all lowliest lives to please ! < <mediates soon his dumb Diogenes, W10 111 return his garment nips with care, And drags tile poet out—to take the air. bod s innocent pensioners in the woodland dim, i The fields, the pastures, know and trust in him ; And m their love his lonely heart is Messed— I Our pure, hale-minded Cowper of the West! ! * e * * „ ... I rhe scene is changed: and now I stand again j • ° ,le - ‘-he cordial prineeof kindly men, j Courtly yet naiural. comrade meet for kings, I lint fond of homeliest thought- and homeliest : A poet too. in whose warm Train and breast I What birds of song have filled a golden nest, j Till iu m»nir*s summer prime their wings unfurled j Have made Arcadian half the listening world ; Around whose eve some radieiit grace of morn Smiles like tl e dew light‘on*a mountain thorn. Blithely lie bear* Time's envious load to-day: Ah ! the green Heart o’e-rtops the Head of gray. Alert as youth, with vivid, various talk, lie wiles tlie way through grow and garden wa’k Fair {lowers untrained, trees fraught with wed- d«d dovos, I'ast tiro cool topic and willowy glade he loves. —JlurjM r's Mtviazinc. lloitorisi. “Daughter of Helpfulness, she ever -trove, Hv countless acts of secret charity Ami words of cheerful import, to incline All suffering souls to lean on heavenly things, Her gifts were lowly, hut her heart outran Her gifts. She had no vaunt of self, no pride In deeds conspicuous, noamhitioui flights To achieve in place, or wealth, or praise. j. H. & W. B. SEALS ) ggggg _ ' ATLANTA, «A., jl'AltY 2S,T8S0. META; 1 I’i uat< Till-: SHAH OF I’KRSl-—See 5th Page OR- SOUTHERN PLANTATION LIFE A True and Absorbing Story of Southern Life and Southern Experiences, Before and During the War. Scenes laid on the Savannah River, in Georgia and South Carolina. BY GAGE HEMPSTEAD. CHAPTER VIII. The live months of Bertha's last term were gone, and in 'W, alter the grand finale concert, pupils teachers and visitors <>f the school were assembled on the platform at the rail road depot, either to speed away on the com ing train, or to Lid adieu to those departing. Miss Desmond mingled amid the throng of young girls, more U-antifuI for the tears on her cheeks. Her dignified brother wore a suljdued, saddened expression rarely seen 011 his noble features. The old chaplain went from one to another, shaking hands warmly and giving his parting blessings. Mr. Ber wick found time to be cordial to his guests, tender to his pupils and watchful to the last lest one of his little lambs should give an tin conventional bleat. Ever and anon, the lank, awkward form of Mr. Stinson could be seen dashing to and fro though he seemed to have no object m view. A close observer would have noted the high state of mental excitement displayed by a certain glare in the eyes, an occasional nervous twitch in the movements ot the "right arm of the school. Mr. Berwick, too, however self-possessed, suave and genial, had received a shock that very morning which he was constantly striv ing to conceal, and certainly some of his pu pils, looking at his smiled-wreatlied face, could not know the dapper little principal had had his surest foundation knocked from under his feet, and was standing upon a rick ety structure which he half-condemned him self. . , , . , That morning, even before a single bright eye was opened. Mr. Berwick was in his study. Before him sat Mr. Stinson, not the strong, firm man of the school, but Mr. Stin son shattered, dreary, resolved. "But, man, you must lie joking: you will not leave me!” "The force of circumstances are such that I must go, sir,” was the reply in a low, mo notonous tone. which yet breathed the firm ness characteristic of the man. “I will give you any salary you demand— I—will do anything you suggest," said Mr. Berwick (lushing and walking rapidly across j the floor. "1 go, sir, from a moral conviction. With this you have no part, nor the interests of ■ your school—1—1 alone am individually con- | cerned.” | “A moral conviction! What can that be I which causes you to give up what 1 ever strive : to render a lucrative and pleasant position!” “That, I keep in my possession alone. It is ! due you, sir, to say that 1 leave with sineer- 1 esf good feeling. I would remain—hut—it is j impossible,’’ and he rose to go. | “Stay, Stinson; let the girls think you will j be here when they return. Say nothing more of this to-day—I make this request.” ! “1 will not speak of it; I prefer not to do 1 so,” said Mr. Stinson. While he uttered these words Mr. Berwick for the first time noticed the worn, haggard look in his eyes and about his mouth. Even j the eold policy of the little principal gave way ' for u moment and he grasped the hand which i hud so faithfully upheld him. “I shall never forget you, Stinson; Mr. and Miss Desmond made m3’school attractive—1 could ill bear the thought of their leaving— but 3-011! There are none like you; I could lose all rather than 3-011!” The train was coming; hasty farewells: swift gathering of school-girl traveling ap pendages engaged the lust hw moments. Mr. Stinson bade adieu to the girls in his own brusque, rapid way; but his vei'3" pres ence inspired respectful demeanor and more than one murmured “thank you, Mr. Stinson, as he moved amongst them. Colonel Glenn with Bertha and Mela, moved forward to bid Mr. Stinson good-bye. “I owe muc h to you, sir,” said Colonel Glenn earnestly as he grasped the teacher’s hand, “iny daughters have constantly in formed me of 3 our careful instruct ions as well as kind attentions. 1 wish I could repay you.” “1 have been amply repaid by your daugh ters themselves, sir. in their devotion to their studies.” The whistle blew and all were on the tram. Mr. Stinson had taken Meta’s traveling-bag in one hand and with the other led her through the crowd to her seat. “Good-bye. Meta,” he said as felt the ear moving. “Let vour motto be onward! and in recalling vour past, think sometimes of one who tried to help 3-ou a little, and who will always feel an interest in your progress. “O' Mr. Stinson, please don't speak so— that sounds like a farewell: I hope to see you next month.” and her soft, brown 03 es At ere full of tears ns she pressed her teachers hand. In a moment lie was gone—the car sped on and looking back a figure could be seen on the track taking rapid strides in the opposite direction. More than one exclaimed : "Nee Mr. Stinson!” but only one hid her face to ween, for to her alone had a faint idea been given that the teacher all respected, was hist forever to their view. That day and for weeks after, Berwick school was a lonely place, Mr. and Miss Desmond were engaged packing up and taking leave of their village friends, or wandering about in the now lonely place's ot the dwelling and campus. Sometimes Miss Desmond’s flute-like voice broke upon the stillness and brought life to the drooping spir its left in the building. But lier brother new er touched an instrument. The jewel-studded harp which he had brought from his home over the sea. lay in a comer of his music-room with dust on its fair face. His violin, “Jen- nv Lind” as be styled it, was on the piano where he left it the night of the concert, after iie had moved the audience at will into ec static delight or deep sadness. Mr. Stinson had immediately arranged his books, packed one trunk with clothing, wrote a number of letters, then silently betook himself to his books, his quiet morning walks and evening I tete.-a-tetes in the parlor. In one week he ■ would leave for his home in the southern part ,,fiie State where the ocean occasionally t. ; ,re place to “green isles of the sea.” tne dav Mr. Berwick opened the mail-bag ar ,l found n letter for Mr. Stinson bearing th stamp of the college whither Mr. and Miss Ddmond were going. “Umph! I suppose thee fellows will be after me next,” he mut- tead, as he examined the letter closely be- foB sending it to its owner. Tat dav at dinner Mr. Stinson made ; kiswn the offer contained in his letter, which w a to fill the same chair so ably occupied in the Bdwick school with a handsome increase of sesry. Mr. Berwick fixed his eyes upon Mr. Damond enquiringly. The latter bowed with a tately grace and said: “Yes, sir, I gave tlr information concerning him alter 1 found oiathat he was bent on living in that comer wfch sharks and porpoises. W ill you accept, yr- Stinson r Before he could answer a pair ofV> e brightest eyes were bent upon him and 3, j. Desmond plead earnestly that he should foil them. , , , ’ ’t hank 3-011, Miss Desmond, most happy wil 1 be t<» join you if—if—after due consid er! ion it seems best,” was the reply. Or in plain English,” said Mr. Desmond, laughingly, “if after several volumes of pon- deious thinking he concludes girls are a mvth be-ond sharks or porpoises he will become possessor.” , ... A 1 wards evening of the next day a letter wi mailed announcing Mr. Stinson’s accep- • L a ee of the offer from ■ and the folowing week his name came next to that of 111 eminent lawyer, the president of the o lege, in the catalogue. CHAPSER IX. Col. Glenn handed Bertha a catalogue from tin" new college at . ‘Handsome^- gotten up, he said, but too new. I would rather trust. Berwick’s school, i ni that odd Stinson and the Desmonds tlmu ai’the colleges in the States.” Bertha did not reply but went on reading 1 “Milton Cameron, L. L. D., President. Hugh Stinson, A. M., Professor Belles Let tres, Chemistry, Philosophy. Fran/. Desmond, Painting 111 oil and water colors, music on Harp, Piano. Miss Juliet Desmond, assistant teacher of •But what is the meaning of this, father? here are the names of three of our teachers. I did not know the Desmonds were going here, and what will our school be without Mr. Stinson ?” T , , “Is that Stinson your teacher ? I had an idea his name was Jupiter or Hercules.” •Yes, it is certainly our teacher, Hugh Stinson, sometimes the girls called him “Huff” Stinson.” ,, . , ... “If it is your teacher, Berwick might as well take down his flag. For my part all in terest I feel in the school has gone with those teachers. Those two starry Desmonds, were they not a grand couple ! Such beauty! such grace! such mental ^attainments! would know they were raised around a kings court, if never told.” “Father, Meta lias but six days more at home, and now wliat will 3-011 do, as Air. Berwick’s teachers have left him ! asked practical Bertha. “Leave too—what else can I do :’ “But Mr. Berwick will fill their places,’ said Bertha. “But 1 do not know who his new teachers will lie. Let me see, is forty miles, for ty and fifty* are ninet3-—it is only one hun dred and ninety miles from here 1 iy railroad and thirty-two miles by stage.” “Why, father, >-ou can’t be thinking of sending Meta all the way to ?” “Yes, it is the very place. If it was in Europe, 1 should be willing to send her if Hugh Stinson were there.” ‘But Meta is still such a child in some of her ways. At times 1 could not keep her out if mischief, do what I might.” “She will lie in mischief anywhere, at Ber wick’s or at the other seminary. I have become reconciled to that, since 1 see my daughter is doing her duty so well.” But the girls all know Meta at the Berwick school and on that account the older ones will give her advice and keep her from her wild ways.” “My child, she lias thrown bushels of ad vieeaway, and as to her wild ways, I am on ly glad to see her at them again since that, terrible fever. Look at her now.” Bertha looked out on the lawn where Meta 1 was gaily galloping on a spirited pony after j the herd of cattle, hogs and sheep. “Sich a ’fusion!*’ exclaimed the old stock! minder, Aaron. “WI13-, Miss Meta, chile, dat not de wav fur drive dem. Let de cow j go fust bv heself—den de hogs, den de sheep. | Cum way, chile, cum way,” cried the old i negro as the stock rushed together pell mell. Meta did not leave, however, until she had | rectified the mischief in part, by driving as ! old man Aaron desired. j ”“He3 r , missis, 3-011 drive stock shore miff. Spec dey larn you dat wha 3-011 bin gone to.” • In a few minutes Meta rode up to a rack, ’ hitched her horse, leaped from her saddle and ran into the room where her father and sister ; were sitting. “Come here, my little will o’ wisp.” said i her father, ‘‘come and see what wonderful ! changes have come for you while you were 1 riding. See here, do 3-ou know these names? Walter Cameron ?” “No, sir.” “Hugh Stinson?” “Why, our Mr. Stinson!” “Franz Desmond, Miss Juliet Desmond?’ “Why, what is the meaning of this?” “It means that Mr. Berwick has somehow i .rotten his school broken up. He is too cun- fdng however, not to patch it up: some eyes 2’not see the rents, but others will ,. C do not care to go there now. father. * i At..t*i as she glanced at the names m the , whether pleasure or pain. "1 thought you were attched to the plaeo 1 It is certainly attractive. “Yes sir. I am.” , . ... “And to many of your schoolmates' “Ami to Mr. and Mrs. Berwick? i ‘Vf»s sir,—to Mrs. Berwick. Col Glenn eyed her shrewdly, as he said: ■‘and to Mr. Berwick how much. | “AVh\" 1U< Of all there none showed you more 1; . nention Bertha thinks him a model. ■ I,0 *A v mlsons are unreasonable, Sir, even Mr Berwick’s kindest acts towards me seemed 1 to lie not for me but lor himself. 1 knot I B Tof(lle^ looked This’daughter and the j other tact her sentiments I ’“‘“Well, that “Jupiter" Stinson what 'd ■ h . ; , n _ philosopher? How hid he pass througn ^ * “Oh, Mr. Stinson! why. father, t see what he was? So earnest and faithful, . 1 ^ “ALrrtStinst a! then was ttm r(ick “upon which | y °“>^ li |ir, upon which the school was J founded.” ,, I “The rock is removed now, si 'd- i L ; floods come and the rams ‘^ Al01\ ’ i his strength. He will find other Desmonds. ! and Stinsons, too. CHAPTER X. The carriage 1 at the door to take Meta , AT® wt The coachman, Bristow, found the two iron grays, Champion and Broxton re^Tihe ha iweltog: the household j vines and hedges of evergreen and myrtle. She would have lingered amid those dear Bane scenes but the steamer was already at the landing. Tie- next day CoL Glenn, in ^company with Meta took the train on the I railroad. ! -‘This seat, daughter,” said Col. Glenn. | “Bir, you will find this more comfortable; | Hie sun will fall on that side as we reach the 1 Lend of the road at .’’ said a graceful, < dark-eyed stranger as he rose, clearing the seat offered of valise and coat. With thanks i Col. Glenn accepted his offer, tucked Meta's ] lunch basket and carpet-bag under the seat, land was then ready for the days travel. Is of cotton and primeval forests alter- 1 t lie entire morning. Hi the one the u- to plied iiis hoe while amongst the denst loughs the gray squirrel leaped in fear or the Tightened deer and rabbit lied to deeper ■had.- and silence. Foaming, roaring on to an. the black waters ot the river came in view. “What a bold stream! It is almost like ink it is so black. How fearful the thought if this bridge were to give way! “Fearful indeed,” said her father. “1 cannot say in this sublimity there is pleasure, it is horrible! these black, rushing waters the shade of these swamps and this frail-looking bridge—the danger in crossing. I wish we could have gone around some other j way. I regret that this place is on our route.” I “j think if the young lady will examine all ! mental impressii >ns at the cl* >se < if the da3 , she will find she owes as much to this same river for enjoyment as airy scene on the route. ” It was the same stranger speaking who had (riven his seat to Col. Glenn and his daughter, i ” “1 „hail wait patiently for to-night, Sir. but 1 as I anticipate disapointinent, will 3-ou please ! say why you think so!" I "Wait a few moments and I think you will find the explanation without my assistance.” i Just here the cars entered a dense forest, the damp earth was covered with rich green grass, while the luxurious vines formed fes toons from one limb to another. The birds twittered as they hopped from bough t" branch seemingly' accustomed to the “iron horse.” "O how beautiful! how peaceful!’ ex claimed Meta, as her eyes lingered oyer the grand old trees and objects beneath. "V\ hat a relief to be here!" “Ah! I think now you have the explanas tinu" This forest is a fac simile of one we passed just before we crossed the river: vet that produced no impn ssive emotion. VV I13 is it this gives you such pleasure ?” “Because it is so beautiful, and then we have it just after that dreadful looking river and the old rickety bridge. "The river, then, is the prime cause of your delight. C. itrast from misery to happiness teaches us to value happiness. '1 he pampered I child of wealth chafes in unrest and learns the value <if what she despised only w hen for- : tune in m ils. The t .’hristiaii will reap a fuller ecstacv on reaching heaven from the recoi- ' lection of earthly tribulations” : The cars stopped, and a rush was made to change cars, or to reach the eating-house, t'olonel Glenn was struggling through the crowd, holding Meta's hand, when they heard boisterous hurrahs all around them and the men were waving their hats and calling some name which in the confusion Colonel Glenn nor his daughter understood. The crowd moved presently and they recognized the po lite gentleman who had chatted with Meta on the train surrounded by men who were loudly calling for him to make a speech. “Listen, father,” said Meta, ‘ I belune they sav Cameron. Yes, now I hear them. Colonel Cameron—I wonder if it is he? c>ee. now he is going to speak. The noisy multitude was hushed and each one bent forward to catch the wor.t» >at fell from the lips of the stranger. He seeund to use no rhetorical art: lii> language ■ simple the children even seemed pleased to hear, vet the moving mass of men and "women gathered from all parts of the , '’ U1,1 D'> listening eagerly to the strangely magnetic eloquence of his address 00,,. for people stood still a moment as if waiting tor more. (To Ik' continued. 1 ■ tht*