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YOL. YI. J. H. & W. B. SEALS } ATLANTA, GA., JUNK 26, 1SS0. Terms in Advance: {&»*£?oi»2?12: NO. 258 THE LEAFY TIME OF JI YE The leaves are green upon the bough; The swallow's on the wing; The cuckoo’s note, from yonder wood, Doth all melodious ring. It is the time when every bird His mellowest pipe doth tune: Of cloudless skies, of Summer flowers, The leafy time of June! Tlie lillies white, upon the pool Their golden stamens show; Their snowy cups bright-mirrored in The silver stream below. ,And like a meteor flashing swift And sudden from the sky, Darts, arrowy, across the reeds The jeweled dragon-fly. The rose’s scent and meadow-liay Perfume the Summer air; The buttercups and cowslip bells Their yellowest vestments wear. For ’tis the balmy biossom-time, When natnie doth attune All hearts her beauties to enjoy— The leafy time of .lune. LITTLE NELL; -OR,— Tried in the Furnace. Yli*s>. Yoru I.. Hussey. Nell, pretty, black-eyed Nell, was a dress- ! ing-maid. That doesn’t give one any accu-. [ rate idea of her position, because that was what they called her, but she was more—she was a sort of companion as well as dressing- maid for my friend, Myrtle Thorpe. Once, in New York, Myrtle'picked up a lit tle, pale-faced, black-eyed child whose rags and beauty won upon her pity. It was like Myrtle to do a thing of this sort. A more impulsive, generous, and unsuspecting wo man than Myrtle Thorpe it has never been ay good fortune to meet. Well, Ne FROI.K1 1Y THE COlENi-FIEEI>. Nelly began, when Myrtle exclaimed. “There, Nell ! hurry 1 I certainly heard a horse coming at a gallop up the avenue.” Her ears had not deceived her. Jack’s mer- soon. Nell came down to Georgia with Myrtle and old Judge Thorpe. At first I think she must have pined for the hardness and bareness of the life she had left, for there was a touching sadness and longing in the dusky eyes. But gradually' that was over- ry whistle reached us as she spoke, »n>. sc come and a mender child than Neil was, can- j after, -...o,'tnotirrcmg' toe stairs t not be pictured. Everybody in our neigh- j at a bound. borhood raised holy hands of horror at Myr- i “Heigh ho, little woman ! he cried dash- tie—and I was of that number. What earth I ing into the room, where Myrtle sat with her ly good could tlieie come of taking a child ! heavy hair half arranged. “I come s oner from the very filthiest of human mudholes than you thought eh ? Miss Mildred, 1 m and raising her suddenly to the heights upon j heartily glad to see you,” he continued gtv- which this girl had been elevated? j ing me his hand and pressing mine in his hear- “Waiting maid, indeed!" I exclaimed dis- j ty grasp.” I’ve only been away two weeks, (lainlully, when Myrtle tried to reason with j and yet it seems a month. I guess i 11 have me. “A pretty waiting maid you’ll get ! : to take up my abode here. Hurry up with Where’s Dinah'? Have her duties grown so I the hair dressing Nell, I’ve a great roll of burdensome that an assistant must be called* ; music waiting for your voice and My rtle o. And what kind of a mixture do you think j Nell did not answer, but continued to ar- vour white and black servants will make*” J range the heavy locks with quick and 'lett But it all turned out well enough. Myrtle ! fingers; and Jack stood behind her, a little to kept Nell with her; taught her to read, and, j one side, looking on and also saying nothing, what is better, taught her to love reading; j We were all in Myrtle’s own little sitting- taught her also with surprising patience, to ; room, where we had gone led by a freak to play exquisitely upon the upright Knabe in i see Nell arrange Myrtle’s hair after the rash^ the library. Finally, as the years fled and j ion of an old-time engraving which Nell had brought their revelation, I was converted to i declared to be like her friend. Myrtle’s views and was sincerely glad that | “There, now, said Nell, when the las,, the child had caught her fancy one day now j curl was unwrapped from her fingers, , was long past. ! I not right, Miss Mildred? Is she not the The girl grew straight, lithe, well-formed: j image of that picture?” as graceful and well mannered as if New She was indeed; It only needed the same York mud ha 1 never bedabbled her and New | style of headdress to complete the resembi- York cold and hunger had never half-killed i ance. tt bile I was expressing mv satisfac- her. And she was a gi eat comfort to Myrtle, j tion my gaze travelled backward and tor- Dinah resented, at first, the encroachments j ward between the two faces Defore me, the made upon her accustomed duties and felt i faces of mis ress and maid, and 1 was ngnt- half-jealous of the stranger. But finally that ; ing down the admiration of one face, which also passed away when she discovered that ; in spite of my efforts would persist m rising Nell was not to usurp her prerogatives. Nell’s ; before me to drown my admiration ot the position was a difficult one to fill. Her gen- ; other. There could be no denial of one fact, tleness and grace, and her quiet dignity won Nell was beautiful with a quaint, strong upon me greatly. j beauty bom of the circumstances There were numbers of visitors at Judge : made ber what she was. Thorpe's sometimes. His was the old-fash ioned Georgia hospitality with, thank God, plenty of means to sustain hi n in it. And when the visitors were there,—joyous, laugh ing girls whose lives had always been and perhaps always would be “rose-fined’’ from the cold, and noble, dignified men, Georgia's boast and pride—when they were there Nell rhich ha 1 The face bending over Myrtle was a thoughtful, calm face, with a blooming color in the cheeks and a brave, open light in the big, black eyes. I had never seen two faces more different than were Myrtle’s and Nell's. The one was full of careless, thoughtless good-humor, a piquant, expressive, merry face. Not beau tiful because of any regularity of features. put aside every vestige of the mischievous | but full to overflowing of the amtabil ty and rompishness which, when she and Myrtle charitableness which were Myrtle s greatest were alone, was the chief charm of her girl- J charms. It was an older face than Nells— ish days, and became quiet, demure, unob- j Myrtle was full}" twenty-six. It ought to trusive. filling her position with that same have been a face with more character in it it respectful dignity which always marks her years perfect a life; but it was not. The face now . ; over her—the face of the sixteen-vear-old O.ice, late in the spring, I rode over to j girl was truer and stronger, ihas could not Judge Thorpe’s.—Myrtle called her home be denied. “San Souci.” Well, one day late in the spring j Jack caught my expression I know, for our eyes met, and there was a look in his I had not seen there before. “Yes, the faces are very much alike,” he said approvingly. “Now, my picture-cousin shall we go to that roll of music.” Whereupon we walked into the library. Then begun one of those mornings for which “San Souci” was famed, a morning full to M j the brim of music which found its way to over their spelling-books, and, for a wonder, | one’s heart and awoke there all the past and the love had lasted. “And he’il have plenty of help,” I continu- 1 ed. “Lois Winterford can cause more laugh- | ter to spring out of nothing than any crea- j ture I know.” “Oh Nell !” Myrtle cried interrupting me.” j There’s a treat in store for you. You are to see Lois. The prettiest, merriest little d,.t, I j ever saw. Blue eyes, Nell, as bigas yours and cheeks like peach-blossoms, and hair— such a heavy knot of crimpy yellow hair ! i Beal yellow, not a shade of red or brown, j real yellow Saxon hair !” “I shall be glad to see her.” Nell said gent- j ly, “but you know I love rid. hair best,” look ing down upon the auburn braids she was arranging. “For shame, Nell ! to call her hair red, spring 1 rode off to “San Souci” to chat awhile with Myrtle about the visitors coming next day. “There’ll be a houseful. Myrtle,” I said, when we bad talked sometime, “and a gay one too. Jack Morris will 'raise Cain," before he's been in the house two minutes. - ’ Myrtle blushed. Jack was her lover. When they were children they had fallen in love all the future. “Abt must have loved ch-ldren,” Jack said when Nell had finished his “Dream of Angels Little One.” “No man could write sucn a lullaby but one who was moved by a love which gave birth to the melody.” “Sing the little lullaby you sang to me last night. Nell," Myrtle said*. "I think Jack will like that best." After a few chords she began. It was Sullivan’s “Birds in the Night.'’ If you have never heard it I can give you no idea of the soulful melody, The music suited the girl's voice. The mother-instinct was strong in her—the true motherly instinct which moves and fives in such natures as hers, and which govern's them. The rich voice was full of the softness springing out of that instinct. She just let Jack Morris hear you, and you'll get j sang as one sings aMthe cradle of a sleeeping your punishment.” _ i “ ‘ “I think he used the hated adjective first,” she replied, laughing. They had had a merry time together, some I weeks before,—those three, Myrtle, Jack and ! Nell. ! Fortunately for the lovers. Jack could lay claim to some far off relationship between the ; families, and hence could come and go at his own informal will. “Mr. Morris is coming this afternoon,” child, and the accompaniment seemed a per fect imitation of the music of the rockers. “Life may be sad for us who wake, Sleep little one and dream not why.” The sadness of her own fife spoke through the strain. I feit the ’ears blinding me as I listened and I moved away into the bay win dow where Jack stood looking out upon the roses, which were in full flower. “I don't like that.” he said turning to me from the roses. “Doesn’t ’it have in it the sound of a prophecy ?” ■' ■, I understand him, though others might not. I think at that moment he was looking ah xd | an-* he r""-T't a jdimpse.of a dfey i 1,’ was not far off. “"When is the wedding to be ?” I asked, following a hidden law of association of ideas which I felt confident he would recog nize. “I cannot tell. The judge seems as un willing as ever to give Myrtle up, and you know her decision is not to persuade him in to anything. I reckon we will always be just at this point;—wasting our lives to grati fy a father’s selfishness and a daughter’s over-strained ideas of filial duty.” There was a weariness in the handsome, dashing face, sad to behold. He was a true and patient lover. I honored him, I ioved him for that, and I was wholly sorry for him. My mind involuntarily turned backward to a certain long and patient waiting that I too bad known once, and the tears sprang to my eyes. God grant that this may not end as that did. Th -re is a happy home not far off where.a wife and mother fives and rules in what should have been tny place Some times things go terribly wrong and “patient waiting” very often is far from being “no loss.” That fact had made itself plain to me through very bitter experience. “They say old maids h ive no sympathy with lovers, but, Jack, I understand you, and I’m sorry for you. I’ll talk with Myrtle. Perhaps I can help to bring it right.” Then I left him and went back into the room where Nell was arranging some newly- cut hot-house (flowers while Myrtle sat be fore the Kuabe combining chords in a slow, dreamy, wierd movement. Soon afterwards I left, and Jack went with me to see me safely tucked away in the little phaeton. Then he returned to the house, and as I rode off they stoo 1 upon the veran da bidding me a merry good-bye—Myrtle, with all the brightness anu joy in her radi ant face, Nell, calm, dignified, thoughtful, and J ack stoo 1 between them. It was a slow ride homeward. I was try ing to read that riddle Did Myrtle really love him ? "Why then di 1 she keep him off with such a trilling reason ? True, her fath er hated to give her up to the keeping of an other’ True, she was his only chdd and an idol. But Jack would after the marriage live at San Souci. He could do that easily and manage his plantation which lav con tiguous to Judge Thorpe’s. The judge would not lose his daughter, and I felt confi dent that if Myrtle would only say candidly once “Father, I love him and want to be his wife’’—the whole thing would be settled. But the truth in the case was this: In spite of Myrtle’s sweetness of character, the love of admiration was her besetting sin. She loved Jack with all her Heart, but unhappi ly it was not a very deep heart, and she wanted to keep him and “her freedo n” too. She had been the centre of h-.-r Circle from her debut till now. She could not get her consent to withdraw from it. Beaux aud balls ani harmless flirtations were very dear to the heart of this attractive tit le woman. It was the oid story. A woman controlled bv unconscious van;ty (there can be such a state), and a true-hearted man who is to suf fer thereby. The strongest proof of Myrtle’s warm hearted, unsuspecting nature was this. She came dailv in contact with Nell’s beauty, she was brought daily face to face with the girl's nobility of soul, and daily sh- saw this girl growing into a strong, wordless kind of a friendship with her lover, and yet no hint of any painful possibility was borne to her mind: After her own way she loved Jack, and, out of the trust she had in her own at tractiveness there sprang a confidence in his I fidelity to her. It was easy reasoning; no I one ever had been false to her, no one ever I would. i One day I came upon Nell and Jack sitting together in one of the rose-arbors. Myrtle It was Robert Browning’s “Evelyn Hope,” i tied, self-possessed woman, and the words were. moaned. And my mind went back to that mild December night when Myrtle and I had overheard that Proem to “Balder” and oth er fines of this same Proem, read by that same nlanly voice came back to me “The hand is the Earth’s soft hand of air, The eyes are the Earth’s—thro’ tears they shine; And the touch of the hand is so soft, so light, As the ray of the blind orbs blesseth me; But the touch is softest, the eyes most bright When I sit and smile by the side of thee. For the mortal Mother’s blind eyes beam With the long-lost love of a fife gone by, On her breast I awoke in a beauteous dream And I go in a dream to die!” While the words ran through my brain, a figure turned from the garden walk and stood under the bare vines by Nell’s side. How perfectly suited they would have been, I thought. And then my heart smote me with something like physical pain, when I beheld the anguish in both faces, and heard the man’s voice saying softly, with a forlorn hope shilling out of his face, which was dim ly visible to me: “ ‘Delayed it may be, for more lives yet, Thr iugh worlds I shall traverse, not a few; Much is to learn and much to forget Ere the time be come for taking you.’ ” Nell came to me after the marriage, as I knew she would. Myrtle had no use for her, after that night when she listened to the reading of that Proem. And I carried her far away that her fife might not be too much vexed. For days and months and years we were pilgrims in the old world. It made little difference to me where we wandered. The new world held nothing for me but a few low mounds in a Georgia country grave yard, and Nell’s peace was precious to me. For five years we lived amid the magical old world beauty. Then, one day in Rome, when the last touch was laid lovingly, almost regretfully, upon a picture Nell had made for me, she said: “Mother Mildred, let us go home.” And we went. God alone knows what a comfort Nell has been to me. And I know what a refuge her art has been to her. Those years in Rome were not wasted. Nell is a true, faithful ar tist whose work will live when generations shall be gathered to their fathers. As I write I see a horseman galloping up the avenue. It looks strangely like Jack. If I did not know that he was away I would declare it to be be. Jack left home immediately after “No, indeed! for God above Ivrg-M* * to grant as weighty to mails ’Auflr creates the kite to reward the love: I claim you still for my own love’s sake! Delayed it may be, for more lives yet, Through worlds I shall traverse, not a few: Much is to learn and much to forget Ere the time be come for taking you.” That was it, then! The voice told me all' And I, who had so often scolded myself for thinking unreal thoughts, and who had ac cused myself, with all other old maids, of wearing mental magnifying glasses, I had seen and felt the truth even while it was afar off. Ah well! fife will always be a twisting, unreadable riddle! I had intended going into that arbor; but the poet’s words stopped me. They* were wrong, I knew. He was Myrtle’s love, and she was her maid. There could be nothing of all that, for them. And yet, I passed on and left them to themselves for a few happy mo ments. I could not find it in my heart to blame Jack. Nell was noble, and strong, and beau tiful. She was the woman to snatch the love of such a man as Jack, from women like Myrtle, to snatch it unconsciously and to hold it for all time. Myrtle was bright and winsome, and Myrtle loved him. At that thought I sighed, and turned back from go ing towards her. And yet, all the blame was hers. No woman, unless she have Nell’s character, can bind any man to her under and through all circumstances. Myrtle, I feared, would reap the reward of her vanity. The guests were sauntering over the grounds. Lois was singing a rollicking song, with a more rollicking chorus, made up of many voices. And Myrtle was stand • ing with one of her admirers near a full-flow ered Mal-mais on rose bush. The song was painful and the rose-odor sickening. Oh, life! thou holdest so many and such sharp contrasts for us! Of one thing I was certain, those two under the rose vines were innocent of wrong: were unconscious of their approach towards the precipice before them. I would go to them. It might be my presence would save them from going nearer to that precipice. “Ah! Miss Mildred!” Nedsaid, “I thought you would come over to-day. Miss Winter- ford has asked after you every day since her arrival.” “Lois is really quite anxious to see you,” Jack said. I thought I caught a trembling in his voice. I’m sure his gaze was not quite steady. “She says a real companionable old maid is the one curiosity she has missed in all her sight seeing—save only in one instance, when she met you some years ago. That is saying a great deal for you, my friend.” “Suppose we join her. She is in the library, singing a student’s song, I think. At least I would call it that, from its chorus.” “And you would not be far wrong, I think. Lois thinks reckless, unheard-of-ways should belong exclusively to little blonde women, so she affects them. No one can deny that, in her, they are charmingly bewitching.” We were walking towards the house. Myrtle joined us, and then Nell and i walked on before, letving Jack and her to follow. All through that Summer I lived in a kind of torment. How would it end? For one thing I thanked God. Nell knew her duty and would do it. If she should ever become conscious of the love which I could see growing within her—and who could doubt that she would; I knew she would do what was noble and true. The end came at last, just as I thought it would. The Summer was over, the guests bad re turned to the city, and “San Souci” had fallen again into its old quiet ways. One day in December, Jack came from the j his wife’s death. They are buried together, city bringing with him a volume for Myrtle, j Myrtle and her still-born babe. Sidney Dobell’s “Balder, the Beautiful. ” i “Nell,” turning from my desk, “Nell, there H.w hail tracked the Iioqk down—had finally i is a horseman coming. Send Turner to meet obtained it from the English nubllsher. And t him.” he brought it, exultiugly, to Myrtle. I smiled j Presently she returns with a curious look as I listened. How easily she let herself be deceived by him—how easily he deceived himself! He knew Myrtle cared little for books of any kind, still less would she care for Dobell’s exquisite poetry. But. Nell was there. Her poetic soul would grasp the in her eyes. “Who is it?” I ask carelessly. “Some one from the village?” “Yes.” And then she leaves me. What can be the matter with the child? And then before I know it my old eyes are awful sublimity of the poem and would revel ] gladdened. Looking up, I see them before me—Jack and Nell. And then I know that he spoke truly. Much has been learned, and much, very much has been forgotten—and at last, thank God, he has claimed her. in it. Nell would love the book. Nell would tremble and grow faint through the very in tensity of her enjoyment when she read the marvellous creation of the poet’s genius. I saw through it all. They were blind, but 1 was painfully keen-sighted. That night Myrtle’s eyes were also opened. It was a warm December night—almost j Spring-like in its mildness, and she and" I were sitting alone on the veranda Inside. | j th bi hesi mountain iu ' the world. It is we could see Jack and isell before the hair- 0 f • h burned-out fire, with the little lamp stand ’ ' ® ' ni’OKHATIOY. Mt. Everest, one of the Hymalayan chain, before them. He was leading from the “Balder,” am .he sat gazing straight before her into the ashy coals. Gradually the color mounted to her cheeks, forehead spread downward over her neck; gradually his voice grew tender more tender, turning towards her, we heard him read with that in his voice which cannot be mis- j taken. “Oh what is this grass beneath our feet, | And what are these beautiful under blooms ? i The grass is the grass of the churchyard, sweet, I Tne flowers are flowers on the quiet tombs. I I pluck them softly and bless the dead, Silently o'er them I bend the knee, But my tenderest blessing is surely said, Tho’my tears fall fast, when I turn to thee. For our lips are tuned to the same sad theme, "IVe think of the loveless dead, and sigh; Dark is the shadow across our dream, For we go in that dream to die !” I looked at Myrtle, as she listened. There w is a new look of determination on her face. The end had certainly come. That night when I sat alone on the veran To prevent lamp chimneys from cracking: Put the chimneys into a kettle of cold water and gradually heat until it boils, and then let it as gradually cool. To get clear of flesh worms, wash your face in warm water and then rub with a coarse towel. This will destroy the flesh worms, which are nothing more than con gealed fat. The earliest method of engraving was up on wood, which was known to the Chinese before the Christian era, but was not known in Europe until the middle ages, when it was introduced by the inhabitants of the Celes tial empire. Engraving upon metallic sub stances was not practised in Europe until the first half of the fifteenth century, al though it is probable that the art in this form was also known to the Chinese long be fore. Coffee is a native of Arabia, supposed by some to have been the chief ingredient of the old Lacedemonian broth. The use of this dah before my door—I was to stay there that i berry was not known in England until the night, my room was on the first floor opening j year 1657, at which time a merchant of iur- ' key, on nis return from Smyrna to London, brought with him a Greek of Ragusa, who upon that verandah which ran around the house—that night I heard Myrtle say: 1 . “Jack lam tired of this waiting; if you j was accustomed every want me still, you can claim me on the New f ‘ “ Year.” And then I heard his low words of grati tude to her that she had given herself to him, and I saw him stoop and kiss her forehead. Nothing more than that cold kiss, no passionate embrace such as that with which he would have clasped the woman he had learned to love with the last and best love a man’s heait can know. “Jack a,nl I are to be married in January, this liquor for his master, who never wanted companv. The merchant, in order to get rid of a crowd of visitants, ordered his Greek to open a coffee house iu Cornhill. This was the first coffee house opened in London. The term Gotham, often applied in mild derision to New York, was first employed as a nickname by Washington Irving. The name is not an invention, as is often thought; it is an actual parish of Nottingham, Eng land whose inhabitants were so proverbially Miss Mildred,” Myrtle said to me next day, an . I congra'ulated her just as if I had not ; - ———- - - -.... ,, -, —u orr , known of that dark undercurrent of pain. To | °/ *** douLneJ have be, upon the Gothamites, one of which is that they joined hands on a certain occasion round a thorn-bush to prevent the escape of a cuckoo. Li order to confirm the tale, the bush—the identical bush—is shown to tour ists in that neighborhood. It is said that Mvrtle~was”the same merry woman. There j case there could be none: but she knew it was never any marked changes in her man- 1 and she knew I trusted her and freely ner. She was alwavs the same bright, lova- S exonerated her. ble childish creature: never too deeply af- | Two nights before the wedding I saw her I conora ulated her iust as if I had not rustic and stupid that they gained the ironi- I congra ulated her jm,t as f I had not ^ ^ q[ ^ VVlse M n of Gotham. Many , ., . . . , . -rcurrent oi pam a f tbj . dotishness have been told be silent is to be wise sometimes. And if sturle ^“ , „„„ r , f „ hlV h is that anybody was to tell all they know of every other body we would have a pretty life of it to be sure! “When they are married, you will come to me, will you not, Nell?” I said, some days afterwards. For a moment there was a twitching about the lips before she answered. “I cannot tell, dear friend. If Miss Myrtle needs me I shall remain with her; if she does not I will come, oh so gladly.” Brave, true-hearted Nell! She would ful fill all gratitude and all duty. “I am afraid for you, child!” I answered. “Can you be true and honest ?” She did not reply, but her face satisfied me. Strangely enough there had been no explanation between us. But we under stood each other. There never would be an explanation; from the very nature of the was some dis'ance from them. Tney were ! fected to forg t, never too much touched to j standing alone under tha same rose-arbor. bending toge. her over a “Bryant's Collec tion" whiea was lying on the little rustic table. As I came* up I heard him reading aloud to her in the voice that had so often thrilled even poor lone-hearted me with its manly depth of tone. King John, of ilagna Charta memory, in tended once upon a time to go through the parish for ihe purpose of buying a castle and grounds. The Gothamites, knowing that the royal visit would entail considerable ex penses on them, pretended, when the mon arch's messengers appeared, to be occupied with some silly, ridiculous pursuit, much to the disgust of the regal emissaries, lhese reported to John what they had seen, and he declared that he would not have a castle in a neighborhood where such simpletons lived. Theieupou the parishioners snrewdiy re marked, “More fools, we wot, pass through Gotham than remain in it. Every failure is a step to success; every detection of what is fa'se directs toward what is true: every trial exhausts some tempting t form of error. Not only so, but scarcely I any attempt is entirely a failure: scarcely be long saddened. But changes had stolen I It was a bare, desolate place now with the ^ ^ v over Nell Heretofore, in the fall when the bleak January wind moaning through the A. theory . the result of a steady thought, guests were gone and the chestnuts were leafless vines. She was standing quite still. : ls altogether false; no tempting form is ripening, there was no more joyous girl than looking straight before her with the blind j w itHotxt some latent charm derived from Nell among the rompish nut gatherers. But j gaze of a somnambulist. T i truth, this year, Nell was a woman, a calm, digni- 1 “Poor child! poor motherless child! lj -32*5