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THE SUUUY SOUTH.
Jhe JNutig j^onth.
JOHN H. REALM, Editor * Proprietor.
Wm. B. REALM, Prop’rsnd Cor. Editor.
■ABT E. BRYAN, (•) Associate Editor
CLUB BATES.
The regular subscription price of this paper it 12.50
a year, but ire offer the following liberal termi:
To three or more evbtcribert all sending in at the
tame time the paper will be furnished one year
for 12 00
Any one tending a club of five at 12 50each, or a club
of eight at $2 each, will receive an extra copy free for
one year.
After forming a club at |2 any number of names
may be added at the same rate.
ATLANTA, GA., NOVEMBER 19 1881.
Don't fail to read Father Ryan’s farewell
to his old home in Mobile, on the next page.
Oar Great Exposition,
The press of this country has done its best
to give to the public some satisfactory idea
of the extent, character, scope, and legiti
mate results of our International Cotton Ex
position. But it is a vain attempt to do so
in words. It must be seen to be appreciated*
it must be studied to be understood, and we
unhesitatingly say that no American citizen
should fail to visit it. No one has yet seen it
who did not express himself astonished be
yond measure, and one of the noblest and
truest of Southern men found himself in tears
while looking upon it. They were tears of
joy and gratitude at the success and grandeur
of the scheme.
Let the people then come and see for them
selves. It will be the only opportunity per
haps in the lifetime of any one now living to
see so grand and extensive a disp’ay of mod
ern machinery, agricultural products, min
erals and works of art.
The Coming Crash.
Sometime ago a New York letter-writer of
the gossippy kind mentioned as a “curious
fact” the circumstance that of ail the many
houses erected by New York builders none
but the costly ones were being bought. The
middle class—working people—formerly so
eager to possess homes of their own, now
seem content merely to live in lodgings, said
the newspaper gossip.
This we should say was more than a “cu
rious fact,” it is a significant one. It points
the truth that the money of the country is
more and more centering in .'the hands of a
few, who have amassed it principally by
speculation. It is not that working people
no longer care for homes of their own, but
are satisfied with hired lodgings; it is that
the exigencies of the times force them to re
linquish all hope of possessing homes. The
high prices of provisions and fuel and all
other necessaries of life compel them to fore
go the sweet dream of a fireside of their
own. The “poor class” must not aspire to
the luxury of a home.
And this “poorer class” is constantly on
the increase. It is encroaching upon the
middle class, formerly such a large and sub
stantial element in oar social life, now grad
ually being merged into the swelling ranks
of the poor: From present appearances it
seems the time is not very far when our peo
ple will be divided mostly into the two great
classes of the very rich and the very poor—
those who have become millionaires by suc
cessful banking, commercial or railroad en-
terpriess and speculations, or by a lucky
manipulation of political or official oppor
tunities, and those who take wages from
them, who have failed of the “great object
and end of life,’’money-making, through lack
of industry and management in some cases,
but oftener through being kept down by the
high prices of living, the stress of competi
tion, the want of unscrupulous shrewdness |
or by the discouraging eclipse which gigantic
fortunes throw over all ambition to acquire
modest property or to rise in the social scale*
Those who pointed out the disastrous ten
dency of this system of monopoly and money
concentration were sneeringly dismissed as
“agitators” a little while ago, but the evil is
growing and the consequences looming more
plainly. The more cautious and reliable
press organs are now uttering notes of warn
ing and pointing to the disasters of ’73 as but
a faint foreshadowing of the coming catas
trophe. The flour, a New York journal dis
tinguished for its just and discriminating
comments upon public people and public
movements, gives this characterization of
the millionaire monopolists, who in their
eager pursuit of wealth have failed to recog
nize any interests but their own: “They
corrupt the press, they suborn the judiciary,
they purchase legislators and governors.
They do nothing for the church, for the State
or for the cause of education. Their only
recreation is horse-racing; they do not care
to patronize letters, and their patronage of
art is to make their own private residences
more conspicuous and their picture galleries
more talked about. Their thought is only of
self and their personal aggrandisement.
When the great financial catastrophe which
is brewing comes, as it always does, wheu
least expected, what will these men of many
millions be able to reply to the Denis Kear-
neys of New York, Philadelphia, Baltimore,
Boston and all our large cities? What plea
will they have to offer for their robberies
undei the form of law, for their debauching
of the press and legislative bodies, for their
plundering of the community by stock water
ings and money market manipulations ? *
STAGE HUMBUGS.
A Modern
Play-What
sists Of.
it Con.
A clever critic declares that the new play
of three-fold authorship—‘-Wanted a Carpen
ter,” is only a “huge traveling joke,” put on
the road to test the judgment of the public,
through the malicious agency of Major
Campbell by way of revenge upon managers
and the public for neglecting his own far
better plays.
But “Wanted a Carpenter” is no more of
a joke than a hundred other burlesques on
the name of drama which are now exhibited
on the stage to deterioate the taste of the peo
ple. The great plays such as those of Schiller
and Shakspeare which represent the working
of human passions and intellects and “purge
the soul with pity and terror,” the comedies
by the old masters, all lightness and sparkle,
are put aside for flimsy “dramatizations. ’
Some shallow story that has happened to hit
the popular fancy is seized upon by an ex
pert, trimmed and toned up or rather down
for the stage. Or a really good novel is
worked up in the same summary fash
ion. A couple of literary hacks get together
and proceed to cut out all the finpr scenes and
passages of the story, to vulgarize the passion
by dressing it up in common-place sensation
al garb, to turn the humor into low farce
(dragging in bits of far fetched fun—where
it is irrelevant to the spirit of the piece,) and
to interpolate situations and tableaux of the
hackneyed “behold us,” description.
Worth (or some New York dress-maker
masquerading under the name of the Paris
milliner) is then called on to “build” a num
ber of magnificent costumes, and behold a
superb society play! ready to be parcelled
out to the Star who is to adorn the long-ta:led
dresses, the lover who is to sigh for and try
for the same, the villian who is to mutter the
malignant asides through an impossible mus
tache and the low comedy man who is to
wear the red wig and rush about like a cor
nered bed-bug, flourishing a bandana hand
kerchief, a white towel or a shillala, as the
case may call for.
The regular sensation play is still more pal
try in material and flimsy in construction.
Its ingredients are usually a bushel or so of
revolvers, and bowie knives, a dozen stuffed
clubs and wooden tomahawks in the hands
of manufactured Indian chiefs warranted to
utter war-whoops on the least provocation
and to squat and howl in “corn-dances,” an
unlimited quantity of horse-hair wigs, dirty
black mustaches, whisky bottles and cracked
banjos, with a much be-tressed maiden al
ways being pursued by a villian to no earth
ly end but to get himself knocked down and
pistolled at regular intervals by the inevita
ble rescuing hero who is sure to spring for
ward to time with a revolver in each hand
and the triumphant exclamation: ‘‘Villian!
your time has come!” There you have the
ingredients of a ‘stirring,seething’ sensational
play, to see which the people pay a dollar
each and the press bestir themselves to pro
cure dead head tickets, and then are expect
ed to pronounce the affair a “grand success”
or an “artistic creation.” *
WOMEN? OPIUM EATERS.
A National Hospital for Female
Inebriates and Opium
Eaters.
P When little Johnnie was first learning to
talk he took special delight in responding
“Amen,” after his father had asked a blessing
upon the food, as the family sat at table.
One day a visitor was with them, and having
performed this service, as Johnnie’s papa had
requested him to do, he closed with saying
-‘Amen.” This was something that Johnnie
had not been accustomed to, and it almost
broke his Ittie heart. The tears poured down
his cheeks very fast, and he turned his
grieved little face toward hhiwiim, while his
voice was almost choked with sobs, he said:
“O mammal he said it hissef !”
Mr: Mackay, the American millionaire,has
made his wife a birthday present of the
dress originally manufactured for the Em
press Eugenie, after the design of a flounce
which once belonged to Madame de Pompa
dour. When the Empress was obliged to fly
from Paris she left the lace unfinished in the
hands of the firm. Seven different lace
stitches are employed in this work, some of
which were amongst the lost arts, and it was
only ly unravelling a piece of the Pompa
dour flounce that the secret was discovered
Gentlemen who are sojourning in the Stat
prison will be glad to learn that “stripes” ar
fashionable this season.
The design of building a hospital for wo
men who had become enslaved by the liquor
and morphine habits was first conceived by
Dr. J. E. Turner some yeers ago. He en
thused a number of philanthropic gentlemen
with his views and the enterprise was public
ly discussed. Then a citizen of Wilton, Con
necticut, tendered sixty acres of land and
sixteen thousand dollars worth of material
and labor to erect the building and it was de
cided that the hospital should be located at
Wilton. The site chosen is an elevated and
beautiful one. It contains one hundred and
fifty-three acres of land (more having been
added to the sixty acres generously donated
by the citizen). The high plateau commands
a view of Long Island Sound for more than
thirty miles cn one side and of magnificent
views of hill and valley in other directions.
Eighty acres of the grounds will be laid out
in walks, drives and lawns, and the remain
der will be devoted to gardens, orchards and
farming purposes for the use of the hospital.
The owner of th6 land gave it solely on con
dition that the hospital should be forever de
voted to the medical treatment of the class
of unfortunates mentioned above. He also
stipulated that the corporation should not
receive any appropriations or gifts from the
State of- Connecticut, his object being to pre
vent the manipulation of the institution by
politicians. His desire was that it should de
pend for its construction and endowment up
on subscriptions from the entire country,and
that the citizens of every State should have
the same rights and privileges as the resi
dents of the State of Connecticut. To bring
it within the reach of the poorer classes, the
projectors agreed that every tenth bed in the
institution should be a free one.
The building is to be 370 feet long with
wings and towers and a central pavilion. In
the north wing are the chapel, library and
dining-rooms, adjoining them the conserva
tory. The three upper floors are reached by
spacious staircases and hydraulic elevators.
PRECIOUS STONES.
The Dazzling; Array oTGems at !
the Exposition.
A Georgia diamond 2% carat and valued ;
at $350 is displayed at the Exposition set :
in a plain gold ring which was loaned by
Mrs. Pledger of Atlanta. Those learned in
ores and metals predict that tbe South will
one day boast her diamond fields almost as
rich as those of Brazil. One reason for this
belief is that the stone “Itacolumite” (called
by Humboldt the “mother of diamonds” be
cause wherever it has been found, it has
proved to be the pilot of the diamond) has
been discovered in many places in North
Carolina and other States. Here on the Ex
position tables, we find the Itacolumite
labeled “Flexible Sand Stone,” because it has
the singular property of bending like lead
when it is in thid slabs.
Here is the sapphire and all its many
colored relations most of them in the rough
—the red sapphire or oriental ruby; the
purple sapphire or oriental amethyst; the
yellow sapphire or topaz, and the green
sapphire which is no other than the lovely
emerald. Garnets, opals, crystals are all
here with marbles so beautiful that they de
serve to be classed with the precious stones.
The exquisite flesh colored marble recently
discovered and said to be not known else
where in the world, and Egyptian marbles
similar in quality to that out of which the
finest ancient statues and monuments wer6
wrought.
Most of these gems are from North Caro
lina. The old North Soate of which it was
formerly said sneeringly that its only pro.
ducts were tar and turpentine is now coming
to the front as the section richest in mineral
wealth ar.d containing whithin its borders
not only coal and iron in incalculable quan-
ties, but gold and gems of larest quality.
Virginia, Alabama, South Carolina, and
Georgia, are also largely represented by
the display of minerals and metals. There
are eight gold bricks from Georgia: One
gold nugget in the same case with the bricks
valued at $500, and a three thousand dollar
gold ‘ button”—which is the form taken by
the gold in the retort after it is separated
from the baser amalgam. The different
lines of railway penetrating the Southern
States, particularly the Richmond and Dan
ville and the Air Line have collected most of
these specimens of native ores and native
woods which form such attractive and inter
esting displays at the Great Fair.
Beecher and Buckley.
The Plymouth Pastor Declares.
Against the Action of the
Methodist Church in the Case
of Dr. Thomas — Beecher’s
Views Upon Hell and Deity.
“ ME MISERABLE.”
Rich, Famous and Wretched.
Zola, the founder of the realistic school of
fiction, declares himself the most pitiable
object on earth, according to a Paris corres
pondent. He has grown rich and famous
through his novels, andhe writes, asit seems,
with wonderful ease and rapidity; but neith
er in wealth nor in the mental activity re
quired for editing a paper and supplying in
stallments of continual novels, does he find
any pleasure. He said to his interviewer: -
“There are days when I feel it is all up with
me, and not for a day, but fopeXter. "
A Disgraceful French Gobble.
Our American Government is not the only
one under the sun guilty of disgraceful tricks
for the sake of the dollar. A letter from
Paris says:
Every day makes the position of the Gov
ernment so far as Tunis goes more embar
rassing. A more disgraceful business has
not occurred even in French history, full as
it is of ignoble incidents. De Moray’s worst
transactions seem half respectable when
compared with it It has been demonstrated
that the war with Tonis was undertaken
solely to pour more money into the pockets
of Farre Gambetta and their friends; that
there was no cause whatever for the war.'
that the Bey was ready to grant everything
asked, but war was wanted to enable Farre,
Gambetta and their friends to steal several
hundred thousand acres of valuable property
that they might make several millions of dol
lars by selling them. Merciless attacks are
going to be made on all concerned in these
nefarious transactions. There are some peo-
; fie who say that they will prove fatal to
Gambetta even before he has had time to
show his talents, or weakness, as Minister.
There is no question that he has lost great
influence.
Circus performers live only twelve yean.
Circus clowns live (alas) a hundred.
„, m&Msr Tilfer «
are days when I feel as if 1 were dead. 1 sit
at my writing-desk early in the morning,
unconscious of my intellectual condition, but
when I try to take up the thread of my story
1 feel in my brains a vacuum and a silence
which appals me. Character, places, scenes,
inc dents, everything seemed to be frozen in
a dense fog into which it seemed to be out of
my power ever to throw one gleam of sun
shine. I then remain for hours my head lean
ing on my hand, my eyes fixed on the win
dow like a man who had lost his memory.—
Then I am at times terribly 'disheartened.”
I said: “What! you who follow a path so
clearly and so deeply traced, who worn with
such an exact method, a method in which
you place such implicit confidence, you, too,
are subject tojdoubt and depression I” “I am
subject to doubt and depression! but where
is the author, the artist, who is not subject
to doubt and depression? Tiiere have been
in this century but two artists—a painter
and a poet—who have never had the least
suspicion, one that he could give a bad stroke
with his brush, the other that he could write
a bad line; 1 mean Courbet and.Victor Hugo.
I to-day think horrible the page I wrote yes
terday. If I want to go to work in good spir
its and with some coufidence—some illusion
that I am working well, 1 must take care not
to look behind me. So, the instant I have
completed a work I give it no further thought.
I not only shun every opportunity to speak
of it, but I do my best to forget it. I assure
you that I never, never under any circum
stances, re-read a page of any of my books,
unless I am obliged to do so to blot out some
reiteration. Now 1 assure you when I re read
even under these circumstances, what I have
written, I am
THE MOST MISERABLE OBJECT ON EARTH.
I myself weep to see how wretched I am.”
“But. wherefore*” Because I think my ideas
so contemptible, my method, my style, my
French, my everything so abominable. Do
you imagine that if I did not rack my mind
as I do, I should have such a face as tbis,
such health as is mine? Look at my hands.
Would you not think from their trembling
that 1 have the delirium tremens? Yet 1
assure you I never drink anything but water.
I am killing myself by incessant toil, never
theless I am unable to do what I wish. I am
a dissatisfied man. Had I the time I should
like to establish a newspaper, whose sole de
sign should be to follow page by page the lit
erary progress of other countries, which
should criticise every publication which ap
pears at Madrid and at St. Petersburg, at
Rome and at Stockholm, in a broad, impar
tial spirit, much more indulgent than severe,
no matter who was the author or his school,
so as to introduce into France the greatest
number possible of foreign authors. This is
what we want. But how is it possible to do
all this? One siDgle newspaper is enough to
absorb every instant of a man’s life.”
Being so rich, why does he not rest from
the treadmill of an editor’s life? It is no won
der that he is dissatisfied with his work. All
authors, worthy of the name, are discontent
ed with what they have done because it falls
short of their aims and ideal. But Zola has
purposely prostituted his genius in order to
found a school. He purposely ignored every
exalted or ennobling theme and shat his eyes
to the waving wings of the ideal while
h9 raked up the filth of the social world.
He has done no good by all he has written
only to make ns realize hew folly we are
of the earth earthy. He has never made
one feel that magical touch which draws out,
as it were, the hidden wings within us, and
makes us dream that we are immortal. *
Henry Ward B j echer lately declared in the
pulpit that the Methodist Church of Chi
cago had been guilty of casting out an angel
when it excommunicated Dr. Thomas for
expressing bis disbelief in future punishment.
The next week, Dr. Buckley, Editor of tbe
Christian Advocate, the leading Methodist
organ in New York, made a sharp attack
upon Beecher In his paper, calling him the
champion of hetrodoxy and declaring that
“when Plymouth Church had disintegrated
and the vagaries and uncertainties of its
pastor had been forgotten, Methodism would
still be propogated in every land upon which
the sun shines.” A reporter for a New York
paper waited upon Mr. Beecher the morning
after and being received with tbe apostolic
greeting, “My son, wliat can I do for you?”
asked the Plymouth pastor if he bad read
Dr. Buckley s article. We give the conversa
tion as reported, merely as a matter of curi
osity. *
“No,” said Mr. Beecher, “I have not seen
the attack, but I am not surprised to hear it
was made. I know Dr. Buckley, having met
him in Liverpool some twenty years ago.
For years ha has not been in sympathy with
me and it is natural, perhaps, that he should
seize this occasion for an onslaught. I made
no attack upon Methodists as such. I was
brought up among them at the West, and
have always lived on good terms with them.
It is the
ECCLESIASTICAL STRAIGHT-JACKET
that 1 object to. Here is Dr. Thomas—a man
who is confessedly pure and lovely in his
life and who has done a world of good in his
calling—and yet, because he will not insist
upon cramming the dogmas of his sect down
the throats of his congregation, they want to
silence him. His religion is all right—nobody
disputes that; it is only his theology that is at
fault, and theology Is, after all, tbe work of
man. Of course it is well enough, if not
necessary, to have rule and order in the
churches, and probably a creed and sect of
doctrines, but to put them forward as infalli
ble, is nonsense. I don’t believe tbe West
minster Confession will amount to anything
in Heaven. Perhaps some of them will try
and carry it there and to
SHUT THE HEAVENLY GATES
upon me. 1 expect some of them would be
glad to do it—but they won’t succeed. Just
look at the situation. The Methodists silence
Dr. Thomas because he does not believe or
teach the eternal punishment of the wicked
—the endless torture of those who have not
accepted their faith. Can anything be more
unchristian? There is not a spark of religion
in such creed. Is it a man’s fault that he is
born in the centre of Ethiopia, where he can
not even have a chance to become a decent
agriculturist, and not in New York, with
schools and churches all about him? Is God
going to damn tbe Kalmuch, the Chinese and
the Patagonian, because, for no fault of their
own, they never
MET A METHODIST PREACHER?
Yet here is one-half the world, and the larger
half too, who are doomed to eternal torture
by this denominational crew, because they
did not ha; pen to be born in a Christian lain! 1
It’s a pretty hard thing to be good, even un
der the best of influences, and who shall darn
to judge these poor outsiders harshly? If
they are right, God is simply allowing gener
ation after generation to grow up in dark
ness and perish in it in order that they may
be punished for endless ages. Why, the in
quisition was mildness itself in comparison
with the position in which this places the
Deity.
“Suppose a man,” continued Mr. Beecher,
“should take it into his head to
MORMONIZE A MADHOUSE,
and should take a dozen crazy women out of
jail and marry them. The offspring of these
wretched mothers would be deformed, idiotic
and afflicted with disease; it would be simply
the propagation of lunacy. Wouldn’t society
sav that the man who could do such a thing
was guilty of a terrible crime? Yet the dog
matic teachings of ecclesiastical bodies accuse
God of creating generation after generation
of morally deformed creatures—people who
are doomed by the accident of birth to a life
of hopelessness and a future of agony. I can
not accept any such dogma. I want the God
I acknowledge to be at least respectable and
to have the
ATTRIBUTES OF A GENTLEMAN.
I don’t want to have to apologize for him at
every corner. He ought to be half-way de
cent anyhow. Our prominent young men
rail against the antiquated creeds of past
days and demand more liberality of thought
in the pulpit. These questions of evolution,
the origin of species, etc., cannot be thrust
aside by a sneer or ignored. They must be
met intelligently. Facts in nature are as
much the word of God as the Bible is. To
doom to damnation the man who stops to in
quire into them is boy’s play. I hate and
ubhor this old Calvinistic doctrine of eternal
damnation outside of a narrow creed. I
scout it. It has in it the malignity of the
serpent, the
SENSELESSNESS OF THE HOG,
and the feiocity of the wolf. I don’t wonder
that Ingersoll is able to make a successful at
tack all along tbe line of Calvanism. Its
dogmas are vulnerable at every point. Inger-
soil has uttered a great many truths and has
done good by waking up the clergy and com
pelling them to think for themselves.”
“If it is a fair question, Mr. Beecher, what
are your views in regard to the eternal pun
ishment of the wicked?
“Well,” said the preacher, with a smile,
“you knowit is a common saying that Beech
er has
A “CHANCE” FOR BETSY.
Joe Nhadden Wishes to Cat
G.AY. Higgins Oat.
A woman in New Lots, N. Y., lately made
three unsuccessful attempts to take her life.
Having been arrested for intoxication, she at
tempted suicide by hanging herself to tbe
cell door with the sleeves of her dress, but
was cut down after she had become insensi
ble. Then she tried in vain to hang herself by
her hair, bat the knot slipped. Fidally she
was ironed hand and foot, and even then she
tried to take her life by beating her head up
on the floor. She was sent to the county
jail for ten days.
KNOCKED THE BOTTOM OUT OF HELL’,
but I don’t know that I have done anything
of the kind. I never did believe in any ma
terial hell of sulphur and brimstone. Moral
transgression is punished in part here, and
sin casts its shadow of punishment over into
the next world; but it is reformatory, not
vindictive. Of course, too, it would be ab
surd to think of punishment there as an ex
ample. A man will only get what is necessa
ry to bring him up to the tiroper spiritual
plane of Heaven.”
' ‘But what becomes of the wicked T’
Those who are irreclaimably bad will be
annihilated. They are of no value to them
selves nor to anybody else. In the first three
or four centuries no other doctrine was known
to Christians than the restoration of penitent
sinners in tbe next world. When the doctrine
of their eternal damnation was adopted it
was not done on the plea of its scripturalness,
but it was
A POLITICAL DODGE,
designed by one of the Roman emperors, and
tbe man whom he put in high ecclesiastical
office as a strike at somebody else. The men
who gathered in the early councils and fram
ed the creeds and anathemas had no character
worth speaking about, lacking both morality
and religion, and I, for one, don’t propose to
have their political decrees fastened upon my
conscience. Happily, I belong to a denomi
nation which leaves my conscience at liberty.
If my Methodist brethren or any others
should get together and say, that because I
was a heretic, or for any other reason, they
wouldn’t
EXCHANGE PULPITS WITH BEECHER.
I should say, “All right; I have never asked
yon to come into my pnlpit, and I don’t pro
pose to invite yon.’ I am pastor of Plymouth
Church. My work is here, and I propose to
stay here and attend to it 1 don’t believe I
am any great gun or thundering fellow, bat
here 1 am, and here I propose to stick.”
At this point the interview was brought to
a close by tbe arrival of a Methodist clergy
man who desired to engage Mr. Beecher’s ser
vices to lecture at Newark, in December.
To Mi s Betsy Hamilton— Respected Mis?:
You will be rale surprized to git this Setter,
but I hope you won't be mad when I tell you
who 1 am an how I cum to know ’bout you.
My uame is Josephus Sbadden—called Joe
for short, and I live at P.ney Grove in the
State of Virginny. You ort to no • ’bout the
Shaddens, leastways your mar remembers
our famiy Ime shore. She had right smart
acquaintance with my mar when they was
both young. Mar’s niadeu name was Nancy
Briggs. The Brigges is third cousins to your
cousin Saleny and so you see we ar sorter
kip,folks. A fortnite ago pap went to Ala
bama to see atter some land he’s got there,
and he took mar along with him and they
put up two days at your cousin Saleny’s and
talked over old times till they got as thick as
potatoes in a hill. And Saleny she gin my
mar a peep at your letters and let her have
3'our pictur to take home tor a spell. Mar’s
told me everthing in your letters; she was
initely tuck with them and Saleny told her
how smart and hsnsoine you was. She didn’t
tell no story ’bout j our beiu sweet lookin. I
tell you I think the world and all of that pic
tur of yourn. It’s pretty as red shoes with
blue strings in ’em, and it’s got stile about it
too. Stile is what I like—I can’t abide a
young lady, let her be pretty as you please,
what ain’t got no st>le in her git up. Our
folks is the leaders of seietv here, and we dis
count people that can’t talk proper and look
gent'-el.
Miss Betsy, I’m afeard youre in too big a
hurry to git married. You don't know for
certain that them things you heard about
George Washington Higgins aiut true as gos
pel. He’s one er them insineratin fellows
what takes in good-hearted young ladies like
you. 1 aiut no part of a hipccrit myself. I
nuther drinks nor swars nor does nuthin of
that sort unless it is ter ebaw terbaeker, and
I don’t count that ongenteel onless you spet
on the floor or on ladies’ dresses. I’m looked
on as a patron young man in the naborhood,
and the girls all say I’m monstrous goodlooks
ing wheu I’m dre-sed in my new Kentucky
jeans suit whatarale taler cut and fit We’ve
got about the best farm in these parts and
I’ve got a mule and two heffer calfs and a
bobtailed b— steer and a sow and 7 of the
nicest half bucksher pigs you ever saw. Pap
has give me a peace or land to build on and
mar’s got three quilts quilted for me and one
in the frame. She said yisterday she did
wish Betsy Hamilton was here to help her
quilt it out and to give hqr the patrous of
some of them nict quilts you carried to Tal
ladega. Mar’s mity anksious forme to mar
ry. I’m the onliest son and she’s been wor-
ritin about me ever sence 1 was born. She’s
afeard I’ll go astray, sbe says, and wants me
to settle down. She picked out L'zzie Crab
tree for me last yenr,“ut L ! z has got too big a
waist for me, and foot too. She wears num
ber 6. That’s too much foot for me to keep
in leather. L’s stile I’m after, an smartness
ruth’n beauty.
You jes suit me, Miss Betsy. Your pictur
makes my heart go pit-a-pat more’n any
flesh and blood face I’ve seed yet. Mar took
an amszin likin to your letters and she says
she remembers when you was a little girl
not knee-high to a duck and you was that
peart and poorty folks thought you wasn’t
goin to live, I’n. powerful sorry you’ve
promised George W. Higgins. I ain’t got
nuthin pussonai aginst him, but from what
I : ve hearn he ain’t good enough nor smart
enough for you. And if he gits to Atlauty
he’ll fall from grace shore. I’m comin to the
Exposition, or leastways I calk date to cum
ef we kin get a livin price for our fodder an
chickens an pertatoes,and I’d like to see you
around some if you’ve no objection, and
’twould give me uncommon pleasure ef you’d
say you thort there was some chance foi me
agin G. W. Higgins. I’m almost shore you
will like my stUe better’n his’n, an I think 1
can do as good a part by you any time. I’ve
got a ring that beats his’n all holler and cost
75 cents more, Ef I could see it on your
fiuger, Miss Betsy, and your hand a restinon
my arm nyest my heart, I’d be happy enuff
to clime a greased persimmon tree backards.
Your true lover,
Joe Shadden.
SPECIAL_MENTION.
PENCIL AND SCISSORS.
—At least fifty millions of dollars in Con
federate bonds have been sold recently, at
four and five dollars the thousand. '
He has a noble brother residing in Macon,
Miss., Col. Louis Smith, known and respected
by all the people for his social qualities.
—The bottom of a well has fallen out
through Decatur, 111., and two voters have
been lost somewhere in a subterranean lake.
- Guiteau has been allowed to summon
twenty witnesses in his defence, at the cost
of the Government, from any part of the
country.
A CIRCUS HAN’S SERMON,
A Class of Men Whose Funerals
Preachers Refuse to Attend,
No man in the circus profession has bad a
more variegated experience than Harry
Evarts, the “Little Giant Orator,” who has
been everything from the balancing artist
to a “wench” on the old “Floating Palace.’»
It is doubtful whether any of his feats ever
equaled those which he has been called upon
to do this season with the Coup show. He has
had to metamorphose tbe circus man into a
preacher. During the season five attaches of
the circus have died or been killed, and, as
Evarts is a natural orator, he was called
upon to arrange the ceremonies. One man
died at Cleveland, Tennessee, on the i8ch of
October, and Harry was, as usual, asked to
be master of ceremonies. He went to a
preacher in tbe place and requested him to
preach the sermon, but tbe minister found it
expedient to be unable to attend, and so
Evarts was called upon to preach the fuueral
over the body. Fully two hundred attaches
of the circus, men who are supposed to be
callous to sentiment or feeling, attended tbe
funeral, each one with a badge of mourning
upon his coat. The poor dead fellow had no
friends. No one knew whether he had a
mother, father, sister or wife. They only
knew that he was dead.
The “Little Giant Orator” said but a few
words over the dead. They were somewhat
as follows: “To-day we lose a comrade.
He had his faults, as we all have; but now
that he is dead, let his memory be green.
Perhaps be has in some distant home a moth
er who prays nightly for her wandering son,
perhaps a sister, a wife. He is now in his
eternal rest. His name is as the fragrance of
a flower, or a flake of snow. ’Twill soon be
lost in the dark and silent realm. What be
is now we know not. It may be that he is as
a star; it may be that what was ODce a man
may mingle with the earth, and be trans
formed to flower or shrub or leaf; but one
thing we know, that in some form or other
his life will go on forever.”
The rough crowd were moved to tears by
the words, and each man walked up to tbe
grave and reverently placed his badge of
mourning on the coffin. During the season
Evarts has been called upon to officiate at
five funerals, because no clergyman could be
found who was willing to stain his priestly
robes by preaching a circus man’s funeral.
-The National Hotel at Dalton, Ga., is one
of the best in the State. Its dining-room has
been enlarged, and the fare and management
are all right’ It has a big run of patronage.
—At the next session of congress an effort
will be made to get an act passed for the ad
mission of the Territory of Dakota into the
Union as a State. Dakota has the population
and resources requisite.
—The San Francisco Post quietly observes
that several of the $10,000 beauties now trav’
eling with circuses will put in the winter
months working in pickle factories and
scrubbing steps at $4 a week.
—Col. J. D. Alexander, formerly of Grif
fin, and elsewhere; has purchased the Middle
Georgia Times, published at Thomaston, Ga.
But he says he cannot edit a paper unless he
has the Sunny South. This shows that his
head is still level.
The only fault the North American has
to find with the negro minstrels at present
is that they have practically ignored the
plantation darkey of the South. Most per
sons find fault because they haven’t ignored
old jokes and speeches. •
—It is reported that a jealous Turk, sus
pecting that one of his many wives (orrather
slaves of his harem), a beautiful Circassian,
thought too much of a certain young man,
had her tied in a sack and thrown into the
Bosphorus. But the young man was near by
with a boat, and rescued her, and carried her
off to Greece, his native land where they
were married.
—In tbe death of Col. T. J. Smith, Georgia
has lost one of its best citizens. He was an
old Hancock County man ; and everybody
knew him as “Jack Smith,’’and loved him for
his genial nature and gentlemanly bearing.
He died in Leesburg, Fla., after ten days ill
ness. He died happy, his last words were :
“I want all my friends to thank God for his
goodness to me.”
—Miss Fannie May Witt, known for her
charming stories and poems in the Sunny
S;uth, New York Saturday Journal, and
Savannah News has become associated with
Messrs. Seals in the editorial management of
the Boys and Girls. Miss Witt is now
travelling in the interest of this paper and
we bespeak for her a cordial reception from
the friends of the Sunny South.
—Virginia sent northwards, last summer a
quarter of a million dollars’ worth of straw
berries and peas. Florida is getting rich up
on oranges. The cotton planters are all
activity. The farmers of East Tennessee are
raising chickens for the markets of Philadel
phia and New York. Best of all, industry is
duly honored. As Senator Vance of North
Carolina, remarked the other day: “The
South is renewing her youth at the fountain
of industry.”
—Hon. Alexander H. Stephens ;passed
through Atlanta Wednesday en route for
Washington. His room at the Kimball was
thronged with visitors during the few hours
of his stay—old friends anxious to assure
themselves of his health, and admirers from
distant parts of the Republic, who, coming
to visit the South during the Exposition,
were desirous of seeing her representative
man. Mr. Stephens was looking well—won
derfully well considering the great labor he
has performed this summer in preparing his
book for the press. At his quiet home,
Liberty Hall, he has kept a corps of amanu
enses and readers constantly busy. Great
interest and curiosity is felt concerning his
book. Little is known of its character, but
it is believed that it will be a most important
work, embodying the views of the clear
headed, and pure-hearted statesman which
have accumulated and crystallized during
his long years of public service. *
Fight it Oat.
The following, clipped from the Citizen
Soldier, is respectfully recommended to the
serious consideration of lazy and despondent
young men:
Peter Cooper failed in making hats, failed
as a cabinet maker, locomotive builder and
grocer; but as often as he failed he tried
again,until he could stand upon bis feet alone,
then crowned his victory by giving a mil
lion dollars to help the poor boys in time to
come.
Horace Greeley tried three or four lines of
business before he founded the Tribune and
made it worth a million dollars.
Patrick Henry failed at everything he un
took until he made himself the ornament of
his age and nation.
The founder of the N. Y. Herald kept on
failing and failing and sinking his money for
ten years, and then made one of the most
profitable newspapers in the world.
Stephen A. Douglas made dinner tables
and bedsteads, many a long year before be
made himself a giant on the floor of Con
gress.
Naughty Stella.
Denver, October 3i.— The handsomest
diamond nng said to be worn by any one on
the stage sparkles on the little white hand
of a rather magnificent but very prettv Der-
former, known as “Stella,” of the Soldene
troupe. When that highly rtfined and aes
thetic company played in Denver someone
introduced this particular star to Governor
Tabor, who is a generous patron of music.
During a brief conversation with her the
magnate was summoned on business by a
messenger. As he withdrew, he, it is pre-
sumed. unconsciously remarked that he
would finish his call some other time. “Oh
no you won't,” said the jaunty performer,*
‘you will get so absorbed in these great big
mines and political things that j ou’U forget
all about poor little me.” The direct slur
on gubernatorial gallantry was equal to a
challenge. At any rate the Governor pledged
himself to return. “Ah, I don’t believe any
of you wicked Western men without some
e’e guarantee than your word,” said the
clever Miss Stella, adding, “Leave me some
thing valuable enough to insure your return ”
Now, the Governor of Colorado has many
bags of gold, but he does not carry them in
his pocket, and the only ornament of cost he
wore was a magnificent diamond ring the
one huge solitaire, valued at $15,000, shining
out like an electric light The imp lsive
millionaire threw his jewel into her lap and
made his exit Then the smart Stella, with
out loss of time, packed her little portman
teau and skipped on a train bound for Chi-
£? g0 ‘ Wh ® B the Governor called to redeem
his pledge the news of her departure was
broken to him by a colored waiter. Governor
Tabor « gifted with a shrewd head and a
good heart It was the latter that enabled
him to put the former to such good purpose.
My Daughter's Voice.
Mrs. Trulyrural has been in the city with
Hnn < ^ U & ht0r *° a, ? a ;? ge tor tl *e vocal instruct
tiOT of the young lady. She has not yet en-
DwMexTtv 8aC “Th« a fl d » W D< i W in a state of
«3Elio iStfiS JESS. 1 ugi ft
mira sings too much with her borax. If she
jKj* S
looking-glass down her throat and
Ptotomxwas too small, and the ty-
phoid bone and the polyglottiswere in a bid
1 , never knew Almira had so
many things down her throat.