About The sunny South. (Atlanta, Ga.) 1875-1907 | View Entire Issue (March 5, 1887)
THE SUNNY SOUTH, ATLANTA, GA, SATURDAY HORNING, MARCH 5, 1887, 3 THE CROSS AND RING. BY MRS. E. WARREN ERDELMYER. THE MARAUDERS. Continued from second page. CHAPTER XXV. More than two years had passed since the parting of Estelle and Bert. Springtide, with its seductive glimmers, cast the spell of a fair dream over a tired city pop ulace onthiscilm April evening. The sun’s las. gilding rays still rested on the house-tops when the lamp lighter began his evening work. The numerous lights sprung up as by magic like so many glow-worms, dim and twink.ing Jike the stars above struggling through the eventide; and spreading, as twilight deepened icto night, as glow-worms dame out in utter darkness. And all were as clusters of dia monds glistening in priceless necklaces. Suddenly a new illumination flashed forth. A stone building, a vast hall, by an instanta neous touch was flooded with electric lights. Ani a stream of people began to flow in through the wide open doors. “What is going on in the hali?” asked one. “The beautiful improvisatrice. You must have heard of her wonierful story telling.’’ “I may have heard something about her. What i i the object of it? Of course her stories point a moral. Since it is free to all it cannot be a catch-pennv affair.” ' fn the cause of temperance—a work toward reform The great work inaugurated by the band of brave women is growing in magni- tude.” . , , . “This is an original idea of one of the fair workers. A new way of presenting the sub ject. It has met with singular success, is ef fective and very popular. Bu*- it requires rare mental gifts, genius, spontaneity. 1 he woman who has initiated it is fully equal to,it. She is beautiful and possesses maen.tism. ’ “You are enthusiastic. If all the men who see and hear her fall in love with her as you have, it may cause them to lift the cup to their lips oftener to drown a hopelest passion, and in the end she will do the cause harm.’ “For love of her pledges will be taken—in disappointment broken; the outgrowth of two evils instead of one.” “When you have seen her and heard her speak you will think differently. I in love with her in that sense? Absurd! She is divine I a weak mortal, and only one of the million to whom her mission brings her. The feeling she inspires is not of the passionate. She lilts one above the level of a common life; makes him see the beautiful side of human nature; makes him look inward to engage in a subjective in terview, so to speak; talk to himself about him self in relation to the good and the evil, makes him wish to be a better man, purer, stronger.” ' * Egad ! You are an enthusiast. W ho would have thought it? I)o tell me more about her! What style of speaking has she adopted?” “Her very own—story telling, as I told you. Something akiu to the minstrelsy of the fif teenth century. Tne aee of chivalry and love ’ “And of drinking, too, eh?” laughing. “Perhaps; but not like the whiskey, rum, gin, etc., of this country. You ask me to tell vou ab >ut her stymie. Come in and hear her. fshe is simply indescribable, she and her sto ries.” They ascended the broad stone steps. A man who bad listened to that conversa tion, a stranger, followed them into the hall. !Ie was tall, graceful and slight in form, but slightly stooped as though from debility. His face was pale, his steps tremulous, bis eyes in expressibly sad. The patience of the audience, which had now swelled to an overflowing house, was not long taxed. From behind the large screen, on one side of the platform, the fair story teller appeared. Her very presence was an inspiration. A calm, lovely creature—a rare, spiritually beau tiful woman whose mission was to bring good into the world. Her dress was of a subdued silvery moon light; her pearls seemed a part of her—individ- -talized; her whole appearance, from the white flower of snowy fleecii.ess nestling in her dark hair and on her bosom to the drapery floating about her as a cloud. There was an individu ality idealized; a something spirit-like, yet wholly a woman—womanly. The white blaze radiating from the electric lights was as a soft mountain cloud, moonlit, wrapping around her to lend the charm of mystery. Yet in tnat illuminated cloui tha outline of figure, face and diaphanous drapery were as a clear cut figure, bright as the even ing star shining in the midst of a misty vapor. She leaned one arm on a tall stand, her pale, rapt face riveted on the audienence. Her eyes closed a moment as if to shut out all sight save the mental picture which her brain was painting with the lightning rapidity of concentrated thought. Then her lids were raised slowly, and her large, brown, penetrating eyes, newly illum ined. swept the audience with one comprehen sive glance, and she began her sto:y. It was after the style of an idyl. The wondrously pathetic sweetness, the in definable appeal, the mysterious soothingness in a sympathy with the weak as the strong, in that voice was indescribable. As she continued her eyes, full of a quiet tire, of inreined enthusiasm, lent a subtle charm to the insinuating eloquence of words which ft 11 from her lips as gems of thought, touching the vast crowd with one common wand of mesmerism. (>ne face in that hall she had discovered on first looking around; and that face to-night was h»r audience. All outside of it was lost to her in the wave of pity, tenderness,—ay, of love that swept over her as a new inspiration—a face for which her heirt bad hungered as only the weary, broken hearted can hunger for lost joys, though res dute to forbid the yearning. In that one swift, searching look she saw a broken pledge; and her special, unspeakable mission in this night’s work was kuown only to her own heart and her God. In her gift of magnetism she hell the audi ence in a hushed, breathless lis ening with a singular awakening to the call of duty, to touch which sense she had reached out her magic wand. Who could repeat that story ? An expert stenographer might have put it down in cold written words. But who could take the impression of her being, of tbat voice in impassioned, flawless speech. We have all heard the music of the sea, but has a pen ever described it ? Her words sunk deep into the hearts of of many of her hearers. There wa- a bewitching sense of novelty in the story which was strongly affective. And last, as moved by an unseen master spirit, she obeyed its mandate and her voici burst forth in song. Organ notes caught it | sage had reached him; and her heart was lift ed in thanksgiving. He arose and followed her silently. The lagging ones throughout the empty hall had seen a quiet meeting of friends—nothing more. What these two had been to each other and of their subdued emotions these outside gazers never dreamed. Acpepting her invitation he took a seat in her carriage. He was still speechless with emotion. The drive continued in silence save the few commonplace remarks from the aged couple accompanying them. At the hotel the old gentleman and his wife bade her good-night, and retired; while she, motioning to Bert to follow, led the way to her own pr vate parlor. The gas burned brightly; the windows were open and on the sill were blooming plants and rich colored flowers growing in vases. The night air was raw, and a fire was kin - died in the grate. She saw how white and cold he was; saw the stooped shoulders and hollow cheeks, and the changes in that handsome face smote her heart with unutterably tender compassion. She rolled an easy chair in front of the fire and bade him seat himself in it. She stood before him with her folded arms held in a close pressure over her throbbing heart. Not once had he raised his eyes: they were cast down in a painful humilation, and were fixed on the flickering flames in the grate. “Bert—look at me!” He obeyed still wiihout a word. A wave of hot Olood dyed his pale face, as she held his eyes for an instant. “You have broken your pledge!" “Yes,’’and hiseyes sunk beneath the mourn ful reproach in hers. In pity she moved behind him; and leaning her arms on the back of his chair she asked in a gentler tone: “When?” “A year ago.” “Not before?” rtp, accompanying it, adding chords of s veet- est sympathy. It was not a hymn—that is an accepted and familiar church organ—but a soulful song thrilling with prayer and praise. A poem song, an idyl, even as the story had been. The vivid word pictures still dwelt in the the minds of the hearers. The strains of mu sic rolling in grand anthems of praise through out the edifice and out beyond the endless , , space was as a spirit scene-and dreams the sweetest visited the poetic minds there. “You had been true to it so long, and knew it’s measureless value; why, then did you be tray your better self ?” “To break a promise, even a promise to one’s self is inexcusable; but the faint excuse I have I do wish you to know. My lift was broken, ruined! At first I tried, with all the fortitude which by God’s gift my nature held, to live in the work I had chosen. For more than a year i bent all my energy of mind and body toward that work—but in vain. My over charged heart refused to arouse, to go into it; and the images I courted were lifeless —the canvas mocked me with blurred, distort ed pictures. And then, I felt ill. During that illness they administered to me brandy. I drank the strengthening portions quite un consciously for awhile. I was too ill to rea'ize anything and obeyed my nurse mechanically. And then, knowing, I con tinued the grateful drinks. I felt that in ig norance I had already broken my pledge to you, to myself—and what mattered? You had cast me off in scorn; and, I—what was I? A broken human life, nothing more. I grew stronger physically. The thirst continued. The desire appeased comforted me, but with only an unwholesome, troubled zest. And then the old, old story. S ep by step I stum bled further and further into the downward race and fell by the wayside as other and no bler men have fallen through the same foul channel.” Involuntarily her hand reached out, touch ing his hair in caressi lg compassion. “Why did you not go home to your own family ? There with your mother and sisters you would have found love, comfort, strength, which you so needed in that desolate hour.” “My parents were dead. Soon after you left me, both my father and mother died sud denly in a week of each other. My sisters married, one before and one after the bereave ment. I was alone." "Bert, 1 was wrong. I have much to blame myself with.” He started. “Not wrong in understanding properly my situation: not wrong in believing that I had cause to do woat I did; but wrong in the hasty course, which, a; that time of extreme bitter ness, seemed to be the only way clear to me I was wrong in leaving for you the words of ruthless reproach. That was cruel. Since then I have lived in a different sphere—more in the lives of others, less in my own broken individual life, and in a new work to which I dedicated myself. I have now a Broader sense of the world and its living creatures, a less prejudiced appreciation of human nature, a deeper sympathy, more comprehensive for the weaker half of the human family. Not only to-night have I felt this, that I was wrong then, but I had realized it before and wanted to meet you.” “And now, Bert, once you said I saved you. I believe you. Will you again take oiy hand, as a friend only, now, which I offer in friend liness, the newly cultivated friendliness to ward all human beings, the weak as well as the strong. But frankly, I admit that in you there is to me a special interest which no other holds or ever can—a deep, prayerful anxiety. Will you let me reach out a hand to help you now as then and for always?” “You can do this! Oh, Estelle, how great and good you are.” “We will not resurrect any part of the past —never recur to it by a word.” “First, let me ask you one question, that has been a ceaseless question in my heart since you left me. And by the ue v promise you ask of me now answer me with your own truthful candor.” “Ask it, whatever it may be, I will answer it truthfully.” “Why, after you had once forgiven the past did you retract the pardon, vowing never to forgive? There was nothing new to pardon. I had not deceived you. The wrong to you I was innocent of, even as yourself.” “Bert!” came through her lips as a broken sigh, “you promised to answer it,” in almost an awed undertone, for the crushed pain iu tbit one whispered word, that sounded like a half-hushed groan, affected him singularly. “It will be a torture to me to tempt a dis avowal irom you—another deception.” “Another deception!" in a bitter reproach. “At least, I never, in the faintest insinuation, deceived you. I never in my life, knowingly, deceived any one.” “Hush! for God’s sake!—for the sake of the work I must do.” ‘ Let me know, however painful, what it is with which you charge me? A criminal even is not judged unheard.” There was a painfu. si ence, then she spoke in a firm voice. She told him of the letter she had found hid- dentallv, she did not know—that she had read the letter and had gone to the writer of it to ask an explanation of a clause contained in the letter relating to s .one deed that necessi tated his concealing himself to elude the Paris police. She paused with a painful catch inliei throat. “What explanation did she give?” he asked between his clinched teeth, while his eyes burned with suppressed rage. “You said truly, Bert,” not heeding his question, “that there was no new deed to foi- give. But on the evening of our betrothal you been touched combinedly in a perfect coucord. I solemnly assure 1 me that you had never com- A few lingered beside the doors and in the mitted a crime—never, save in that dark hour aisles, talking in subdueo tones; and one re- I of drunkenness, of maddened deiperation, had mained seated, alone, motionless, with face i you ever been near so foul an evil as a deed of bowed on his folded arms which rested on the | shame; when, as I knew, your better self so- The celestial voice and melodic strains were dying away in a sweet thrilling sigh and its visions fading, but the pictures she had con ceived ami painted to them, with herself the center feature, remained stamped in all its vividness to abide many days, ay, months, perhaps years, to do their work through na ture’s own laws of evolution; rapidly or slowly as the impressionable matter receiving was •gifted with capacities. The crowd dispersed; quietly, because they were moved. The emotions and reason hail back of the chair in front of him. It was Adalbert Rosseberne. CHAPTER XXVI. The story teller had retired behind the cur tain. An old gentleman and a gray-haired lady awaited her in the almost emptied hall. She came out wit a hat and cloak ready for the drive h.rne, but paused to tell the aged cou ple. to go on without her, and wait for her in the carriage, saying, there was a person whom she wished to see alone for a few minutes. Softly she approached that solitary motion less figure and laying her hand gently on his arm said: “Bert, come with me; I wish to speak with you. His hand sought hers, closing over it with a timid tenderness. His face, wet with tears, was raised. He was too much moved to speak eveu her name. she saw that he had been touched even to weeping; that her special errand that night was rewarded with a premise; that her nies- bered through the mystic influence imparted from myself, though sleeping and unknown to you, the deed was ieft undone and spared you the remorse. In that ” Again she paused with a sharp indrawn breath, and her teeth set fast to her undeilip. He did not repeat his question, but trem bling as with a chill he waited for her to con tinue. “In that base falsehood was there not some thing new to me personally to forgive when I disc, vered the cruel deception?” Her musical voice rui g with a curious mingling of compas sion and stern judgment. “That you had pre served that fatal witness, the letter, was a mystery to me. I could only account for it by supposing that you did not know that you had not destroyed it; that it was one of the accidents of the past that will rise up some times to confront those who have been guilty of baseness. The story with which she proved your guilt was convincing and of untold agony to me. But, that deed lies between you and your God—an insulted God. Only He can for give it.” [to be continued.] “The place sir,” interrupted DeBracy, “is too well known to ever be molested. Besides, Mr. Verne, the time has come when I must claim my reward, and with her consent, and I trust with your own, the hand of your daugh ter.” “Colonel DeBracy,” spake Verne stepping forward and showing h?s person wrapped in the folds of a Union flag which he had brought from the house, “I love my daughter and you too well to confer on a confeierate chieftain the daughter of a Union loyalist. No my dearest DeBracy, were it a time of peace, I should bless tue day that made you my son; but should Leo ever wed, it must be to one, who when this war is over, can hold up the head of a patriot to that Union into whose allegiance we were bom,” and Verne as he spoke enfold ed his daughters symmetrical form in the stars and stripes. Leo’s eyes made an appeal to her lover and the last t f the DeBracys leaned upon the arm of the Union patriot as in confirmation of the marriage contract, he bowed his proud and no ble head and kissed the stars and stripes over the hand of his lady love. “Mr. Verne,” he (aid as he raised his f>ce with its expression of frank nobilit/, “I too loved and was bred to love the old Union. But my state is my moth er; her act whether wise or reckless is not for me to say, but it called me to her rescue, and but for a new wound, to-morrow would have f tuiid me marching to her frontiers. But should the Almigaty declare by this struggle whica you deem short-lived, but which during its day demands my presence in the Southern rauKs, that the Union is one whole—our moth er—country, no one will more gladly than De ll -acy blend his love of Dixie with the love of Yankee Doodle. So by the love of your daugh ter pleaded by herself, by your own life at present in m3 - keeping, and by my blood, whirii seals this union of hearts, I claim the hand and hear, of Leo, and asK that as my wife, she shall proceed hence to my home.” DeBracy ended his appeal by throwing back his coat, which revealed his linen stained with blood. “My God!” exclaimed Leo as her form swayed forward to Deliracy’s, “you are shot, and I am wretched forever!” DeBracy eaught aud held the lovely figure, as he quickly wuispered in her ear, “only a flesh wound in uiy .boulder darling, received from the shot we heard tired as we passed through the hail. I shall survive it for your sweet sake, ai d now you cau have two weeks to nurse me, while but for this wound I must have left you for the fro it to morrow and then what a lonely, dreary honeymoon, for Leo, you must help me press this marriage now.” “Col. DeBracy,” said Verne, “you have won not only the daughter’s bet the father’s heart, but in the mi 1st of smoke and blood you speak of priest and shrine, and then what says my Leo?” “Oh father,” rc-pled Leo still smiling through her tears, “(Jolouel DeBracy has spo ken for us boih. lie is my Dixie and you my Y'ankee Doodle." “I will provide the other necessaries,” said DeBracy with his usual spirit. “Hereiieuten- ant,” he called aloud, “send your chaplain to the front.” Accordingly the faithful rector of the parish, who had come up with the rescuers, and now greeted them all warm.y as 1,’eBracy Baid “Dean Williams my father, whom you will couduct to the chapel to give his daughter in marr.age, and come my friends,” he added to the soldiers, “witness our nuptials and then break your fast ou our wedding feast.” Mr. Verne with the flag still about him, took the arm of the rector, and lighted by the flames, the}’ walked down the avenue followed by the youthful couple, while the soldiers who fell in line, marched once more behind the stars and stripes of their old flag. The garrison was composed partly of Habersham count}' recruits, and even through the ordeal they had just pass ed, DeBracy and Leo were amused by over hearing their comments on the old flag. “Now you jist think,” said one, “it was hard to be pulled like a gander from under where we mi litia was drilled, and then made to run against what we used to righ i wheel and present arms under.” “You can hi’st it now,” saida second sol dier, “and prodgick all over Towns county and nobody will devil you, for you’ens all knows Towns county never did go out of ihe Union." “Well I’m Confederick now,” said a third, “but when I’m huugry as I am now, I’ll walk after any flag for provender, and if that old man wants to tie up that long gown he’s got around him over the quarters we’re going into I can eat just as square a meal under it as any other tent. Fact is if he wants me to know it, he’ll have to knock me down to it, for I have’nt seen a flag or tent either, for better’n a year.” At length the chapel was reached, the doors thrown open and the weddiDg party entered, while the soldiers formed around, and Jared Verne, as he gave his daughter away, looked with pride to see her wedded to valor and de votion. “Father,” said DeBracy after the ceremony had been performed, and he had accepted the congratulations, “I was summoned to this chapel to rob you, and indeed in it I have won your choicest tieasure, but it will be to you the gaining of a son aud not the losing of a daugh ter. And now lieutenant,” he added, “for ward with your brave soldiers to my wedding breakfast which shall be served at my quar ters, and when for some time I shall get or ders to have you stationed, for as soon as this scratch,” he pressed the wound on his left shoulder, “is healed, I must hasten to the front and leave to you the charge of my wife and father when I am far away.” “Y’our wishes shall be fulfilled Colonel,” answered the lieutenan; gallantly, and smil ingly he added, “not the least acceptable to my huugry soldiers will be the eating of your wed ding breakfast.” “Forward then brave comrades,” said De Bracy and then stooping to whisper and sup port his beautiful bride, who was wearied and sinking, he pointed through a rift in the foli age where the peaks of his mansion were be ginning to gleam and glisten iu the first beams of the rising sun. “Ai-d o’er the hills and far away Beyond their utmost purple rim Beyond the night across the day Through all the wor d she followed him.” wl Ws dJo an!s _ CHAT. X. L II., your kind words were appreciated, as was also the private letter from Little Chloe. As to who I am, my identity has been almost lost in the many positive assertions re ceived that I am everybody but myself. If the yarn of tangled questions is ever unrav eled, however, you shall know. Douglas, your inquiries concerning Ourrer Bell can be answered by some member more familiar with that author’s life, or more versed in the art of reading novels than I. Speaking of novels, have you ever noticed the style of so-called literature flooding the market nowadays? Somehow ’tis fashionable to ign ore Coler idge, Dickens, Homer, Milton, Scott, George Eliiott, Thackery and other standard writers, and to be conventional one must have a thor ough knowledge of the messieftrs ai d mam’- selles who make up the lighter literature (?) so suggestive of milk and water, or more for cibly, “blood and thunder.” In ye olden time, much importance was ar rived from reading certain book.-. If it hud been a book of knight-errantry, Ignacio would have become a great knight errant; was the lives of the saints, and Ignatius be came a great saint. According to this, what must be the impressions upon the mind of young girl after perusing one of the sensa tional books so mu :h in v«.gue? I believe this an age of progress, but if the girls and boys of the piesent day prove as apt a pupil as did Ignacio, the next generation will be a set of sensational idiots. Johnny Tuberose, we are beco ning alarm? at your prolonged absence. Do you know whispered report says you haze disappeared like the old woman of Berkeley? And one well-wisher prays for you a hasty journey. Mother Hubbard. please tell me the circumstances of Ourrer Bell’s life when Sherlev was written? In one place he says, “Ignorance was carried away from the very gates of Heaven, borne through the air, and thrust in at a door in the side of the hill which led down to hell.” Now if this was so, I’m quite sure that vast quantities of it has oozed up again and is in full circulation now. Give Away, you need net exult over your big (?) secret, perhaps you are not so very much wiser than other people after all. lorida, I like your letters, they savor of Wild-wood anil Orange-blossoms. • Au Becoir, Columbus, Oa. Douolas. Literary Clubs. Dear Mother Hubbard: Several years ago ventured to write a letter to this choice depart ment of the Sunnv South, and Mrs. Bryan promptly published it. Then for weary weeks and months I waited for one little word of wel come or encouragement, but none ever came, And, subdued and discouraged, I determined henceforth to be only a looker-on in Venice. But something about the charmed circle was so irresistibly attractive that last fall I knocked again. Again the presiding genius of the Household kindly received me, and soon after one of the members referred to me very pleas antly; and in last we k’s “Sunny” dear Mother Hubbard tells me there is a letter waiting for for timid little me. Oh! how bright the gloomy February day looked after 1 read that, for it is wonderful how we long for sympathy and ap preciation, and the heart expands beneath its gentle influence like flowers, jjepeath the vivi fying effects of the sun. How many of the Household have belonged to a literary club this winter? They are al ways interesting, and especially so when one lives (as I do) in a small town, where the sup- pi; of amusements is necessarily limited. Our club began with only seven members; but, no wise discouraged, we persevered until our num ber is about fifty-five now, and it takes a large parlor to accommodate us. We have the reg ular officers that usually govern such a body. Then we have a programme committee, whose duty is always to have prepared a programme, not’only for the next weekly meeting, but for two weeks in advance, so that no member cau ever give “lack of time” as an excuse for neg lected duty. Our exercises open with roll call by the Secretary, and each member responds to his or her name with a short quotation from the author selected for that evening; and an essay on the same author, by one of the mem bers, is the first thing in order after the min utes are read. Then we have music, readings and recitations, and, as several of the club rhyme very gracefully and write passable short stories, the e remises are occasionally varied by an original effort, which always takes well. Our by-laws limit each exercise to only ten minutes duration, and thus one subject is not allowed to become monotonous. I could tell more, for our Club is both inte resting and improving, but , and I must hurriedly close. Cheered by recent encourage ment, I hope to come again soon if this little missive safely passes the Rubicon. Little Chloe. Washington, Ark. First Singing of “ Home, Home.” Sweet Perhaps the most thrilling quarter of an hour of John Howard Payne’s life was that when Jenny Lind sang “Home, Sweet Home,” to him. The occasion was the Jennv Lind concert in Washington, the night of Decem ber 17th, 1850. The assembly was, perhaps, the most distinguished ever seen in a concert room in this country. The immense National Hall, hastily constructed for the occasion on the ruins of the burned National Theatre, was tilled to overflowing. Among the notables present and rccupying front seats were Presi dent Fillmore, Daniel Webster, Henry Clay Gen. Scott, and John Howard Payne. Jenny Lind opened wiiU the “Casta Diva,” and fo f - lowed with the “Flute Song” (in which hpr voice contested rivalry for purity and sweet ness with a flute in the dust), then the famous “Bird Song,” and next on her programme the “Greeting tc America.” All the pieces were applauded apparently to the full caoacitv of an enthusiastic audience, and Mr. Webster, who was in his most genial after-dinner mood, emphasized the plaudit by rising from his seat and making Jenny a profouud bow, as if re sponding !or the country to her “Greeting.” But when the “Swedish Nightingale” aniwer- ed the encore by turning in the direction of John Howard Payne and giving “Home, Sweet Home,” with all the wonderful tenderness, purity, and simplicity fitting both the words and air of th; immortal song, the difference was at once seen between the mechanical ap plause called out by a display of fine vocaliza tion, and that elicited by the “touch of nature that makes the whole world kin.” Before the first line of the song was completed the audi ence was fairly “off its feet,” and conld scarce ly wait for a pause to give expression to its enthusiasm. People ordinarily of the undem onstrative sort clapped, stamped, and shouted as if they were mad, and it seemed as if there would be no end to the uproar. Meantime all eyes were turned upon Payne, a small sized, elegantly-moulded, gray-haired gentleman, who blushed violently at finding himself the centre of so many glances. In spite cf the recent municipal decree sup" pressing the stalls for the weekly sale of vege tables in the Gendarmen Market in Berlin, an aged woman, who has sold her wares there for more than forty years, not only persists in oc cupying her wonted “stand,” but actually de fier the authorities to remove her and her baskets. It is the old saying over again: “There are still judges in Berlin.” The an cestors of the woman had a special privilege granted them in the days of King Frederick William I., and she is bound to hold on to it until death removes her. Heed Woman Vote? Dear Mother Hubbard: Kindly permit me to answer Rebecca Thom’s argument in re gard to woman’s sufrage. In this day of American chivalry, when wo man rules the heaits and minds of men, is there a necessity for such a measure? Is not the interest of every true aud faithful wife, recognized and protected, by the vote of her loving husband, who at the marriage altar, pledged himseltt iu the presence of both men aid angels to forever protect and shield her from a 1 harm? Is not the sentiment of every fond mother voiced at the polls by her son, who is the pride and joy of her old age? And could that sou do other thau by his vote protect the fee ble footsteps of the sainted mother, who had watched over his life with an anxious yearn ing heart from his birth to his manhood. Is not the daughter, the apple of the father’s eye, upon whom she depen Is for counsel, for a' tvice, and instruction can she not too rely ui.ion him to protect her interest at the polls? Can it be, that the gallant lover upon whose arm the blushing maiden clings with implicit faith, is not to be trusted? Can it be possible that American gallantry is at such a low ebb that our women are com pelled to cry out from the rostrum, and through the press asking for the privilege of represent ing their own interest at the ballot box. “llomimJ? the very name is enough to awaken the sle iping energies of man’s soni, and kindle the respect love and admiration, of every man upon the face of the globe. If my little friend will look again, I am con fident, that she will find some one who is look ing well to her every interest, if not, when I voice the sentiment of sister, mother and little sweetheart, at the ballot box I will vote for for her too. Meanwhile wives, mothers and sisters, the men want you to look to their interest on elec tion days, and nothing pleases them better thau a daintily prepared dinner. This is a better way to make things harmon ize, and by doing this, you will And yourselves far happier than in exerc sing your right as a free citizen at the ballot box. I love the Household and its contribul ors. Their views and purposes are enobling, and I bid you God speed in your efforts. Carl. Questions, Kind Words and Criti cisms. Dear Mather Hubbard:—Veritas, I thank you for the pleasure your beautiful lines afforded me; they shall occupy a prominent place in my scrap book. Muda Hetmur your letter inspires me to take up the burden of life with renewed energy, de- termined'to conquer in spite of the cruel stabs of Fate. Fate indeed! have I forgotten the words of the noble o d poet, who wrote— “Preverse mankind, whose wills created free, Change all their woes on absolute decree— All to the dooming Gods their translate, And follies are miscalled the crimes of Fate!” Dearaother Hubbard, will you or some one Dear Mother Hubbard:—Tbere’s a bush—a sliilness ot all nature— a fog lies thick and heavy—not a breath of wind seems stirring. As I push hack the hair from my forehead, ~I catch the sound of a dog in chase, then an other, and another, until the whole pack comes in hearing, and a* swiftly die away in the dis tance. A hunter’s horn seuds out a shrill blast—then all is still again, intense stillness. Broken now by the inock-bird’s strain of mel ody, and again by the familiar cackle of a fowl. The fog seems lifting—lifting, and presently the sunshine floods the whole landscape, na ture shakes off the drowsy stupor, and a per fect February morning is ours. What a long breath we draw as we confront a heap of letters and answers are to be forth coming. (>ne from the “daintiest lady in the laud,” full of brigiit thoughts, chaste expres sions, pervaded wuh an ever present yearning to be goo i and useful, and an ornament to her chosen profession—that of a teacher, as if her whole life nd influence were not as sweet and pure as the very air she breathes. “Hands that ope but to receive Empty close; they only live Ricnly, who can richly give.” Another from one who was, in days Lang Syne, the embodiment of strength and sup° port; but now, alas! bereft of loved ones, mind and health a wreck! The disjointed senten ces, disconnected thoughts and undertone of depression and sadness, touches one with a feeling of pain and pity. Next one from a dear old boy who has turn ed his back on things fond and familiar, and cast his lot with the residents of the far famed Land of Flowers. The joy this letter brings is very nearly akin to sadness. What matter if that fair land is a bower of bloom, a pro fusion of fruit, the home of all that’s sweet and fragrant, are not other things essential to happiness, yea to comfort? Whose ear is ever ready for the sacred confidence, waose touch made mesmeric with unuttered love and deep sympathy, who to comfort mind and body can take the place of those who love and trust? “Give Away,” that letter of yours has roused my curiosity; who is Mother Hubbard —our new head? Rell, didn’t “they say” you were a lawyer! Guess who she is, and guess out loud. Aud Rell, don’t let “press of busi ness” keep your seat among us vacant; and where are Kerr, Sub Rosa, Japnnica and Busy Bee? Lea' Kimraer, rour Christmas and New Year’s letter is just as apropos as if it had not been delayed. I wonder if Leal is identified with Betsey Hamilton? N. L. H., your Household letters have al ways been of the strongest and best, and in Hearthstone Studies we find the same charac teristics. No feature of the Sunny South proves more attractive than these studies. Yellow Jessamine, the favorite of all the favoured, and bright Butterfly, your times is surely coming. Even now spring is send ing out her messengers. And Pats—dear, delightful, charming Pats, to win our love and approbation and then de sert us, how ungrateful! Rosa Alba—but I must not go on particular izing members, else this golden silence I have preserved so long will still remain unbroken, and through no fault (?) of mine We have so many gifted members tbat we “lesser lights” are fain to be comforted with these lines: wheel; take us back! take us baok to the child ish, pagan days when woman•' was a pretty plaything, soulless, it is true, but harmless, rather than lead to the very Christian era when she shall be man’s equal! Bat I forgot; prog ress does not retrograde, so they say, but con tinue8 to move onward, npward, flying, as the wings of morning, to the full and perfect day. Then swilt and ever gracious Progress, as a specimen of tby wondrous handicraft, first make mm woman’s equal in the State. Ha! I snap my womanly fing-rs in thy face with ex ultation, thou striped soi-disant I’rogress, and say what is known without the telling, that you cannot do it. Neither can woman ever be made man’s equal, for the Creator ordained them to remain unequal and incomparable. What shall be the reward of the faction of the future—let us call it “the man of destiny,” who, as a coup d' etat, not for woman’s eleva tion, will place the ballto-box within the reach of woman? Will the “hydra headed” mon- ■itrosiu, the would-be-meu, reformatory sis terhood, who are even now growing hoarse with demanding i’. as a natural right, bless him and hail him as a deliverer from boniage? Yes, blithe will also have another exceeding great reward—the consciousness that, for self aggrandizement, he w 11 have bartered man- hooo, degraded the standard of true woman hood, destroyed the home sanctuary, and set at defiance God's laws. .Will woman be man’s equal then ? Condorcet, arise from thy cen tury slumber, and answer for the future’s egalite! Ralph Waldo Emerson, thou who didst, as yonder fallen oak, “decay first at the top;” John Greenleaf Whittier, beloved pott— philanthropist, and England’s clear-sighted Jacob Bright, and large hearted, brainy John Stuart Mil;—wiii this be progress? Shades of Charles Slimmer, Chief-Justice Chase, Henry Wilson, William Lloyd Garrison and Abraham Lincoln—will this be reform? Elizabeth Cady Stanton, Phoebe Cousins, Susan B. Anthony, Lucy Stone, Alice Blackwell, Julia Warde Howe, Belva Lockwood, and all ye “lesser men”—will this be woman’s real enfranchise ment? Alas! alas! alas! then Pandora’s box heid nothing halt so baneful as the futures egalite, progress, reform and freedom. I canuot bear to think of the national shame with the iconoclism of all that is pure and beautiful that will befall our Republic when woman becomes a political facto*. Better an oligarchy, better u » government at all, than that of a republic without homes and home- keepers, say I. Better, far better for women— the women of the “solid Sou'll” (solid iu all that is true and noble) be even as the Peruvian mummy with a shell on its lips, and preserve eternal silence, than vote after the manner of men—at the oox. “Women, without the right of franchise, cast the weighiest votes for good is a truism we all know full well. We, the home-keepers of our beloved Southland, shel tered by the beautiful, strong walls of our God blessed home sanctuaries, and casting these “weightiest votes” of influence—do we realize the evil that will come with the .dawn of wo man’s so-called emancipation day? Viva. Marshall, Texas. among the It mfiy b© srlor OU8 to write Though** that shall glad thee, two or three, High souls, like those* far stars that come in sight Uuce in a ceutury. But bet ter far it iu to speak— One si mule word, which now and ‘ hen Shall w-Ken >heir free nature in the weak, And friendless sons of men. 0 ^ri'e so * © earnest verse or line V. h ch, seeking not the praise of art, Shall m ike a clearer f tith and mai hood shir e 1 * the untutored hem t. Is our voice weak, our hands so sharp, our station lowly? Remember— “The com tot deeds of the common d y A-e ringing bells in the far away.” And that— On y the good a id tree, of ell oar sots .ike tim'detura free oil the diukaess stealing, Strike their pur., lights along the slope of Time, Life'srea! worih revealing. Charm ion. Columbus, Ga. The Woman Question. To vote, or not to vole, that is the question for our womanly consideration, eli, Dora Tnom? The air is full of a prophecy that is voiced by the spirit of the times: (Household friends, I profess do skill in exegesis, but is not this what the spirit saith?) “Woman will vote!” Hasten slowly to thy dawning, oh faithful dies irae, black with woman’s doom! But when, oh prophetic Time—spirit! when will woman be degraded to political factorship? (Hark ye, my sisters, and rejoice with Viva that the evil day is not yet.) When? Not un til patriotism is a blear eyed, palsied dotard! Not until the Republic is sick unto death with party strife as in lernicine in mutual hatred as that which cursed Dante’s Florence in Guelph and G nibeline days! When the foemen cf equal strength—the giants, Democrat and Republi can, have exhausted the ballot armory of its weapons (the strongest ever made for national weal or woe), preparative for the desperate last struggle for supremacy the one over the other (ani whatever betides, the ruin of the State)—then will woman be thought of seri ously as a weight (the last expedient) to throw into the scales politic, to counterbalance the equipoise of factional strength. Then will wo man—alas, poor woman!—be in demand as a voting machine, as an engine of political war fare, a missile-thrower to be empl iyed by Sir Cavalier or any Lord Puritan (who shall be first to understand the value of the new pro jectile, this deponent saith not) iu the emer gency requiring more votes than men can vote for the annihilation of one party with the ag grandizement of the other. And then with flourish of trumpets shall woman—the woman of the discontented, strong-minded (•) North ern masses—wearing a mock crown and robe of purple, be escorted in triumph to the polls, by one or the other of the Cyclopean factions, to cast her vote in favor of tne one which, as a coup d’etat, will have procured for her the right (?) of franchise. Dear Householders, are you actually laugh ing at Viva’s interpretation of the time spirit (zeit-geist, as Mathew Arnold worshipfully terms it?) Yon call me alarmist, myope, would-be exegete, and false prophet? Well, so be It. Stone me if you must (and can); I do but humbly answer that the accents of the Zeit-geist soundeth thus, to my dull ears; tbat the handwriting on the wall, by my dim rush- light, appeareth thus be read: “And as this the only meaning the ages past have caught”—that pseudo American progress, grown mightier than Jehovah’s self, can make woman man’s equal iu the State? Iroh pudor! Is this the end, the bitter, bitter end to be at tained before the perfection of State-craft be reached? Faugh! O Juggernaut Progress! turn backward thy ever whirling, blazing Handsome Hats and Beautiful Bon nets. Round hats, medium in size, have variously shaped brims closely rolled. High hats with slightly tapered crowns have brims long in front, short at back and roiled high and close at the sides. Hats of Milan straw are 'argely imported in all the colors of the spring fabrics, eern Suede and brown shades being most sought alter. The ere wns are fairly high, and of Milan straw, with brims of fancy braid. - Plain brims are faced with velvet or beaded, and the front of the crown almost hidden by a faille fan or even tail, or loops or ladders of ribbon bows up the front, with ostrich tips in clusters down the back or on the side. Beautiful hats shown at Ridley’s have high front bows of doubled ribbon in two colors. One in particular is of old-rose Milan straw, and velvet facing of deeper rose on the wide, turned up sides of the brim. The tall bow of brown and old-rose ribbon is prolonged into bands around the crown. Two slender wings in similar colors ornament each side back of the loops. Lower-crowned hats resembling English turbans have evenly rolled brims. Dress hats of lace and colored velvets have jetted side- brims. The new Flaamnt velvets, also those in duller red tints, and other shades are lovely with lace in.these hats. Bonnets are still small with high, narrow trimmings. The close, cottage shape, slight ly tilted or pointed at the fore-head, to accom modate face garnitures, is rounded at the ears, and is sometimes|supplemented with a coronet, which is the most novel feature, as simple or as elaborate as the wearer may elect either a reverse of the straw or trimmed with beads or mass is of fine flowers minus foliage. Plain Milan straws and fancy braids plaited in close, or open lace-work designs, constitute the bulk of the importations. Neapolitan straws are particularly desirable in black and composed of straw stripes with jet gimps. Colored satin straws, and fine Tuscan braids are shown. In bonnets as in hats, the tints of taking textiles repeat them selves. Sallie J. Battey. A LADYFKOM ALABAMA WRITES: “iHupoau wowauhli.d mav receive tne messing ot the pre ..a. story treatment for prospective mothers, by Dr. Slainback Wilson, All mts, G t. I have not words to express my gratitude and thankfulness. AH mothers should send to him for further information.” I regret very much to report an overflowing wastebasket this week, bat some few of you have sent dozens of letters without a stamp to forward with. Others have sent advertisements without the fee which of course we canuot publish. The fee is only ten cents per line, eight words to a line, for advertsiemants, and we charge nothing for forwarding letters to our adver tisers, but you must furnish us with au unseal ed, Hank, stamped envelope to send them in. Madge Melvalk, Sunny Soctu Office. Girls between 15 and 20 years please write to me. Will exchange photo’s. Marion S. A young lawyer 2fl years old, a heart whole and fancy free; will answer vour letters. Jack G. Ladies write to me, will exchangs photos. Frank. A good looking young man 20 years old wants lady corrzspon dents. Address Honesty. McRae, Ga. Telfair R. no jar ^'?, er wou ^ like to covresp md with Sweet. Photographs Exchanged. Am anxious to correspond with several bru nettes between fifteen and twenty. Musician. YVill some pretty young girl write to Jack H? “Dulcie” wishes to correspond with McCarobek. Dearest girls, please write to me. Romeo 2. Will lone please write to Wellington? Wanted—a gentleman correspondent, age from 24 to JO. q o Wanted—a gentleman correspondent, age 25 to JO. “E.L. B.,” Care Sunnt South. What young ladies will correspond with a Texas gentleman. Temperate, lively disposi tion. T G Wanted, a lady correspondent. Object, fun with a view to matrimony. Address, Lock Box 70, Crystal Springs, Miss. A young man, age 20. a graduate of one of the best Universities m the South wishes to correspond with a refined and educated young lady. Object, improvement in epistolary com position. Shil. A cadet who will graduate this summer de sires a correspondence with regard to fun matri cony may follow. Address, care Sunnt South, John Cay more. I am a brunette 26 years of age, in good circumstances. I would like to correspond with young ladies from 16 to 20 years old. Object, fun and perhaps matrimony. Hoosirk. A young man, age twenty-six, dark hair five feet nine inches high, in good business’ wishes gx>d looking, intelligent lady corre spondents, from seventeen to twenty-two, who knows how to keep house. Address care Sunny South, i Armand Wish a gentleman correspondent over 22 and full of fun. Am 18, brown eyes, golden ’•air. Petite. Being a Southerner, I would be pleased to correspond with Southern young ladies—pretty brunettes preferred. I am 19. My object be ing pleasure. Homer. A young man of 34, of good moral character wants to form the acquaintance of an int-lli- gent young lady under 80. Object matrimony. Brunette preferred. Vindex. A wealthy young merchant, age 25, good looking, wants a wife. I mean business. Address DkCambrox. I am thiee times seven and want a pretty and intelligent young lady to correspond with me. I will tell her my object. G. M. “Her silver voice is the rich music of a sum mer bird.” YVlio will be “/ier?” My age 22; weight 100; height 6 feet; plenty of money. Venus please write. Gif. A young man of 19, who is a Southern»r, would be pleased to correspond with Southern young lidies. Brunettes preferred. Object being pleasure. g. F. M. A widow 25, desires to correspond with a gentleman; must be in best social standing, (blonde preferred) between 30 and 40, about six feet tall; (weight, about two hundred. If matrimonially inclined, must be rich. I have all required if matrimonially inclined corre spondent. Am not particular about the mat rimony. Lone Widow. W«KIKH (SimplesFREE) for DB. mitmi ELEC! R'l A&ENTS scon?" elYcibic'cok nUJ311 AU 8EfS, BRUSHES, BELTS E*. No risk, quick sale*. Temt«»rv »Uven, har,nfaction guar antee*. l>». Keoti’i 843 Broadway, ». Y. PAETIAL CATALOGUE OF TEN CENT MUSIC, A NY piece Music on this list mailed free, to any address, for TEN CENTS. Do not longer pay 30 cents to §1.00 per copy, when you can buy same for 10 cents. ^ , COMPLETE CATALOGUE, Csntaining names of nearly 2,000 pieces of 10 Ceut Music Mail- ' J ed 10 any Address Free. Send fer it. DEMIT By Postal Note, Express Money Order, Bank Draft, or money in Rostered Letter 11 One and 2-cent stamps received for sums less tian one Dollar. ° VOCAL. No. Usual “ric 4 An I Still Beloved? - - Dinks J5 23 beautiful Bessif— chirus - Ef.tabroika 35 65 Come wneu tu-■•‘oft I wili /ht tails - S mum .un 30 13 Dear Heart, Wo’re grewlig ol.'—cborus Estabraose 35 107 E'sie DariiDg, I am Wailing—ahurns (very pretty) - Cox 35 121 Far away Mrs Bliss 30 F.t ier is drinking f g lin—Temp (ehc- ius) ----- B.ckmore 35 Gobble Song—duet. “Mascot” • Amiran 35 180 Her B igut Smile Hnu ns mestlll - Wrigaten 35 2o4 I’m caned Little Buttercup—Pmati.re - - - * - Suillvan 30 2#3 I met Tb“e nft in Dreamlands Mysilo Bowers—E ig and Ger - - Hahn 35 214 In tne Gloaming—an - - Gab i-l 35 218 Italiad Love Soue—An - - Bim utl 30 225 It tbat me Pale Moun sadly snone —Eng and Ger ; Hahn 35 22G It Was a Dream - Oi.wen 30 246 Keep us Safely lo the End—saen-d • ------ Gilbert 30 259 Larboard YVateb—dret - Wiliams 50 282 L ttie Voices attbeDoor—chorus - Dinks 35 345 My (tn»™ - - Biumentoal 50 359 N •! Sir—S-ianlsh BIliad - Waked-ld 30 372 Only a Flower—chorus (vary pret- ty) - - - - - Mary Mack 35 385 O e Kiss and Good Night—chorus - Geary 35 416 It ng aem t burin Beils—Eibloyian - - - - - - • Sawyer 30 449 Sleep, Darling, Sleep—Lover’s luila >» • - H tbn 35 510 Walt Till the Moonlight Fall.—chorus - - Bam all 35 546 We’d Better Bale a W*e-Sco'eh-C armel 30 553 We Never Sptak as We Pass By—cho res ----- Harmon 35 583 Wnl You Miss He When I,me Gone?— caoiuB ----- Sawyer 35 INSTRUMENTAL. 615 Artist’s Life—Knensller Leben (op 3!6), ; - - - - - S ranss 40 616 A l’ol—To Tliee (waltzes, op 15 ) • - ‘ W„1 .te,fei 35 621 Battle of Waterloo - - Anderson 40 633 Black Hawk Wruz^s - - Waist 35 633 IS.act Key P ilka Mazurka - H-rzog 35 642 Boccacto March • - - • Srpps 35 670 Chop Slicks Waltz - - - De Zudi 30 672 C eveiana’s Grand March-with elegant lithograph Portrait of H n Grover Claw-land - - Scuieiflatb 40 6.80 Com F ower Waltz ; s - - Ouote go 696 Nfepolit.ine - - Smith 60 715 F.Im’1 Dream—from Lohengrlr - DLzt 35 721 Faotasttcs SouoitlSChs - - Gab. lei 35 727 Fatini za M ireb - artGecee 35 732 First Kiss Wa»l - - - Limo'he 35 746 Fro'ics of in*.FiogWaltz - Waism 35 751 Gaifi ild’s Foneral March - Hewitt 35 765 Goluoii Ru i Waiizes - Wold’-nfel 40 784 Helter huniter GaloD - - F lust 35 785 Her Bright Smiles Han-”; Ms st‘l— valla - - - Brimey Kiciisrds 40 789 Home, Sweet Home—yarii - S ack 60 8 0 Jersey Lily Waltzes - - Bchlalffartb 40 Usual Prier. Buqik 35 Andran SO Strauss 30 Solndler 50 Bfo. 811 Jily B 'others Galop 878 Mascot Waltz 883 Merry War M arch 901 Murmfrine Brook—op H2 905 My Q :een YVallzcs—only completeedi tio 1.—Biic’ca^o? si » . . Coote 61) 90S Nearer. My God, to The« —varla-Chandler 4o .>09 Nujiro Oddltelt s—Medley of iN&ctation Melodies—beautiful litdograpb title 627 One F'ncer Waltz— <p 128 Sch.slffarth 948 F*-u>ly Dew Drop-Polka^(2zurfca , 351 Peri Wa'lzis - - . D’Albert 35 961 P‘ZZ can- Sylvia—divertissement - D llbes 35 966 Pri*. ee Iu.perl.1 Galop - CjotO 33 977 Queen’s Laco HaiidkerthioX—waliz . • - - - Strauss 30 979 Racquet Galop - . - Dnrkee 35 99ft Rochester Schottlsche - - Bunsen 30 loos Sea Shell Waltz—tasy and pretty ...» „ :, * - - Lillie Douglass ay 1008 Secret Lave—Gsvotte - - R ’sen 35 1011 Shepherd Boy—Iiylie - - Wilson 35 1016 Sippery Waves—variz—complete MUlon * - - - Wvrnun Ml 1020 S nith's, Gan. P. F, Grand March - Martin 35 1067 ru. klsn Patrol - - - MiahaeJts 4o Latest Additions—Vocal. 1144 Dream Faces - . . Hutchinson 40 1148 S meet L ive of Mine - - Coneu 30 3004* By-Gone Days-a Fireside R9verie 30 A beautiful plaintive ballad, oy Geo. H Briggs. Jast published,and is destined to become very popular. 3008 He ge s there Just the same - Linger 30 3010* l will JToi Tell—Composed by * * ' , * •. • • - - Emil Hahn 35 This is a beautiful encore song of high grade, and the publishers received a pei sonil compliment from late Pres'- „ dent Artturon account of its gresf merit. 5628 Surele * Bihrend :» 3037 This L ive o* Mine - . Grace Earle 40 166ft Auneu Song, from Nancn . Genec 30 1675 Do they Mias Ms at Home—Quartette 1682 He's get ’em on the List,from Mikado ”** *’ 1704 See Saw Waltz S mg, complete edition P * " ' - - - - Crowe 100 Latest Additions—Instrumental. 1152 Caledonian Quadrilles—with calls ' ' ' - - Old Dance 45 llo3 “Call Me Back Hehottiaeb” Over 25,000 copies of un* elegant Sehote ™ tisebe u<re been sold within three months; s ifault) for Piano or Organ. G'ades 0 4; notdiffleiut. 8 1158 Fedora Wj..z -s—only complete edition of . thl » celebrated composition - Bacaiossl 1.00 c»0j0 Amcretten - • . . . Taum 40 I m, . ,ro .'CP tu ' - - - S-ihuDart « 3069 IavLatton to the Dance - Von Weber 86 2®! 1 ? Lastldeaof Von Weber - Cramer 1.00 30.i> L'ttie Fairy Mazurka . Stre.hoog 35 3084 Mexican Serenade—I. iMuadoilua - Lungey 40 * Pieces marked with a star will not be sold at 10 cents per copy after Jan. 1st, 1888. After that date full marked prices will be required. HUYETT’S ELECTRIC ORGAN TEACHER—Price $2.50 The latest and best Organ Method ever published. To introduce this valuable Instructor, we will send it by mail, post paid, for §1.25 By all means order a sample copy. ‘ J J "" HUVETT ' Address all orders to 2^=PARLOR ORGANS *09.00, PIANOS *197.50. BROS. Saint Joseph, Y
