About The sunny South. (Atlanta, Ga.) 1875-1907 | View Entire Issue (May 21, 1887)
THE SUNNY SOUTH. ATLANTA. GA* 8ATURDAYIMORNING, MAY 21, 1887, 3 A COL JDDSON OF ALABAMA; Southerner’s Experience in New Tort City. BT F. BEAN. [Copyrighted by the Author.] CHAPTER XHI.—Continued. After awhile it waa found that the Senator wai missing. Further examination revealed that Eva was missing also. But nothing was said. The Uik and the music went on just the same. The moon was just rising, the evening not too cool for sitting out door, and on the piazza at one end were the missing pair. The moon was pale and feeble; and still, scarcely above the hills and trees down towards the horizon, the light it shed over the scene was not too glaring and unpoetic. It was a peaceful, love ly scene—the distant mountains faintly out lined in light and shadow, the white road winding up the hill beyond, the well-kept lawn with every twig and bush and shrub of ever green distinctly visible. The conversation between the pair was not intellectual, animated or well sustained. They were perfectly satisfied with very small talk and very little of it, and with gazing on the scene and listening to the chirping of insects and the distant cry of a whippoorwill. Their sweet soul-communings were inter rupted by the grating of wagon wheels on the graveled carriage-way leading from the stable to the house, and Esterbrook recognized his buckboard which he had ordered brought around at half past ten. Then he heard his mother's voice at the open casement. “Where is Warner? The carriage is here. ’ “O, goodness!—are you out here?" cried the sisters, coming out upon the piazza. The Senator went inside; Eva remained on the piazza with the sisters. Mrs. Esterbrook was saying her last words to Mrs. Judson, and together they went outside. The other board ers who were not on the piazza had gone to their rooms, and young Esterbrook found him self alone with the Colonel. Then happened something unexpected and unpremeditated. One moment before the young man had no thought of doing what be did. He obeyed now the first impulse and promptings of honor. As he confronted the Colonel he was suddenly seized with the feel ing that to leave the house now without speak ing to him frankly would be an insult and an indignity to which no man of honor cuuld sub- mit. . ' Colonel/’ he began impulsively. “Warner, we are all ready, and it’s late, called his mother from the piazza. “One moment, mother, if you please. Colo nel, will you allow me a word with you?*' The Colonel bowed gravely. “Colonel/’ began the young man again in the same tones of excitement, “I feel that no man of self-respect and honor, or of any deli cacy of feeling ” Here, poor fellow, he broke down utterly. His fine sentence came to an ignominious end, and his hands trembled and his lips twitched. “Colonel/' he began once more in his most manly tones; but soon he was involved in an inextricable labyrinth of involved sentences, tautology and repetition. O, why cannot a man in real life utter the noblest sentiments of a noble heart in grand and flowing langiage, dignified and magnificent as the soul that prompts them? It is hard indeed that the most impassioned utterances, the most glowing eloquence, the most sonorous phrases—seem ingly the only true and proper expression of the heart’s emotions—are more often the pro duct of cold calculation, composure and rhetor ical skill. Poor Esterbrook by no means aspired to perpetrate as grandiloquent a speech as a lover in a hich-fiown romance, lie only wanted to be manly and worthy of that dear girl and cf her noble father. “Colonel,” he began for the third time, “since I have met your daughter— Here ho found himself about to givo the Co lonel a description of the feeling of a man ia love. “What drivel that would be !” he thought to himself. He might as well read him a chapter on the human heart. Hut he was determined to bolt through with the sentence. And he did bolt through,' and with irresistible eloquence and force. “Since I have met your daughter, sir, I have learned to love her!’’ he cried in im passioned accents, “and 1 ask your consent to w!u her hearts” . .<££- will you do when you ere oblidged to leave It?” “Well, pa, I don’t went to etey here efter everybody else bee gone ewey. It won’t be pleasant then.” “But whet if something should occnr to pre vent our remaining here the rest of the sum mer? Yon must not become so much attached either to places or people here at the North that yon cannot part with them without great pain and sorrow.” “How can I help that, pa?” “You must be philosophical. Yon must bear constantly in mind that your home is in the South, and that the people yon meet here are only passing acquaintances whom yon may never see again.’’ “O, pa, pa, yon give me the hlnesl I can't be so philosophical as that! Now, for instance, the Esterbrooksl Why, pa, I would just want to die if I thought I was never to see them again I Bat wby should I feel that way? They have all promised, and promised, that they would come to Alabama and visit ns this very winter?” “Well, dear, they will have a good chance to see the South as it is. I am always glad when Northern people come down amongst Well, now, pa, do, do, say they are not mere passing acquaintances. I feel as if every tibre of my heart were bound up with theirs! I am sure 1 shall never part with them for good! We shall always know each other and be intimate friends. Don’t you think so, pa?” “Perhaps so, dear. Time will reveal." This conversation rendered it ail the more difficult and painful for the Colonel to say to his daughter what he had on his mind to say, and he deferred it until the afternoon when he found her on the lawn reading under the shade of a broad-spreading old maple tree. “Eva,” he began, very seriously, “I have come to tell you something which you will be very sorry to hear, but I expect you to bear it like a sensible girl.” “O, dear me, pa, what in the world is it!” cried Eva apprehensively, thinking that per haps he had heard that the Esterbrooks were not coming after ail. “It is something dread ful—I know by your looks.” “O, no, my dear, it is not at all dreadful,” replied her father, with an attempt at cheer fulness. “If you were not so much attached to this place that you would be sorry to leave it, my news would be agreeable rather than otherwise, for I kuow you are fond of travel.” “O, pa, what is it?" gasped Eva. “We are not going away from here, I hope, pa?” “Yes, dear, matters of importance take me to Massachusetts at once. I know you like this beautiful place, but there are others even more attractive. We shall go from here to the Berkshire Hills which are as celebrated for fine scenery as the Catskills. The air there is re nowned for its salubrity.” ‘But when, pa? When are we going?” asked Eva ia a faint voice. “Monday morning, dear.” “Monday, pa? Next Monday?” “Yes, dear, next Monday—day after to-mor row.” “O, pa! that ii so soon!” “I know it is Eva. I am sorry you are dis appointed about remaining here, but I feel sat isfied as soon as you find yourself in a place equally beautiful, among pleasant companions, as pleasant as any you have met in the Cats kills, you will he reconciled to tho change. Don’t you think so?” “I don’t know, pa.” “Wei!, now, won’t yon try, Eva? Try for your mother’s sake. It will grieve her to see you looking disappointed and down-hearted. The change is absolutely necessary. Now you are going to be reconciled aren’t j ou?” “I suppose so, pa.” Sho was g.tzhig off into vacancy with cionf- ed face and eyes full of tears, and her voice, though steady, was plaintive and almost inaud ible. Her father continued a few minutes lon ger striving to reconcile her to the change, and left her saying, as he pressed her hands sym pathetically: “It grieves me to sco you looking so sad, Eva. But I feel sure the time will come when you will look back upon this and see that your is to me” a trying position. Eva is our onlv child I am a Southron, and Alabama is and will ever remain my home. To leave our only child here in the North will be a terrible nacu- fice for her mother and myself, and doubly try- ‘ „ feelin" as wc do now how little sympathy s tohe expected from the present generation of Northern people for us of the South. I will sav to you frankly that I had hoped, in leaving Mr Van Tassel’s, that my daughter’s muni would resume its normal course. Her mother also believed that such would be the case. She is young, very young. But if I am wroi Taunringnowto order a carriage /u«aven;*for although love pan l hope that that will bring tho „ t»>n sncrtml Or 1 wroller in Khtag^hTiTopeii Shall do nothing to rataher happiness. I can give yo.i no more detinue answer to-night. I ^ve no ngUt u, do so till I consult with her mother. It is pos sible we may leave early Monday morning for the Berkshire Hills. Should we do so-while I shall ever remember you as a courteous an. agreeable companion and friend—1 hU*U ex pect you to regard our departure as indicatm that 1 desire, for the present at least, tha. a communication between my daughter and ^Esterbrook °vnw "'completely dazed. The whole ear.ti seemed to have become extinct. For a moment not a word, not an argument had lie ti offer in reply, but presently tue one a'l-ahsorbi tg, all-controlling idea of his mind was crystalized in one passionate, vehement “‘“S&Tlove your daughter! and I believe her heart is already mine! She would rightly think mo a villain if I remain silent now. No man of honor could retreat after having gone S °“A man of honor,” replied the Colonel with firmness; “will submit to a father s will. It is against my wishes that you should hold any further communication with my daughter at present. You will know my heal decis.on Mo.elaju ^ ^ wait> „ re p]j c d Esterbrook. “If I am wrong in believing I possess your daugh ter’s (.flection, then let tho blow fall on me They passed out together and joined the others on the piazza. The young man, assist ed bv the Colonel, placed his mother and sis ters in the carriage and then took h s leave of Mrs. Judson, who, having surmised the tenor of the conversation in the parlor, was constrained and embarrassed. When he turn ed to make his adieux to Eva, her father was standing by her side holding both of her hands in his. Esterbrook, with hat in hand, only bowed and said good-night. Ilut the * 1 1 nut rottlklllV' voung lady cried out pettishly: 3 “I’a, pa, let go! How can I bid Mr. Ester- ^Her hither released herhand, but Esterbrook only touched it lightly, said good-bye, aud ad ded: “I hope to see you Monday. As soon as the carriage had wound its way down the hill to the road, the Colonel and Mrs. Judson went inside; but Eva remained on the piazza gazing abstractedly on the beautiful moonlit scene, lost in sweet revery. Her moth- It is eleven o’clock. ^if^f.^'ThTt’.'ma? It is so lovely, I hate to go to bed;” and joining her father and mother in the parlor, and too happy within herself to observe their grave and sorrowful looks, she exclaimed raptuously: “Ma, j think this place is perfectly heavenly! I feel P* r " fectly transported with joy to-night because it’s such a lovely night! And I, you don t know how glad I am the Esterbrooks are com ing here, tS)! Ma, you must be sleepy; and ‘ ^ pal You look as solemn as two owls. L at SMne, I feel as lively as a cricket! I feel like sitting up all night to look at the “iffiey went up-stairs together; Eva blithely hade her father aud mother good-night, went to her own room, and seating herself at the open window, gazed out upon the scene, mus ing and dreaming ’till long after midnight. CHATTER XIV. The next morning Eva went down stairs to breakfast looking as bright and fresh as if she bad enjoyed a fuil night's rest. «<0 ma!” she exclaimed _ ecstatically. “What a divine world this is! I just love this place! It is so beautifull How lovely the air feels this moming! O, pa. I’m so glad ( you thought of coming here! I am perfectly en- chanted with it!” . _ . „ “My dear,” replied her father gravely, ywi must not think too much of this place. Wbat lor a drive, and l uopo ui» smiles hack to your face. , Eva watched her father till lie disappeared behind the shrubbery around the carnage- house, and then, springing to her feet, sho flew to her mother. “M i! ma!V she cried wildly, “I cannot go away from here, I cannot, ma! I ou must leave me here, ma! You must, you must! If you take me away I shall die! I shall die! “Eva! Eva!” cried her mother in great agi tation and alarm, “calm yourself my child. You terrify me! How can you get so excited about such a matter?” “Ma! ma! say you will leave me here! “My darling child, it is out of the question! You are far too young. I did entirely wrong in sending you to Mr. Van Tassel’s so long be fore I came.” , ... “Why. ma,” pleaded Eva, “what harm did it do? What harm will it do for mo to slay here a few weeks? The Esterbrooks will take care of me.” . “My child, it is impossible,” returned Mrs. Judson resolutely. . “Ma! ma! my heart will break! cried Eva bursting into tears and throwing herself on her mother’s neck. “I thought I was going to be so happy and now it is all snatched away! I shall die! 1 shall die! O, ma! ma! let me stay! let me stay!” . “Eva! Eva!” cried the mother, vamly en deavoring to calm her daughter’s excitement, but she still sobbed and begged piteously to he allowed to remain; and when her father came to report how much better she had borne the news than her mother had apprehended, anil how satisfied he. was that a change of scene aud of companions would overcome her disap pointment,, he found her in violent hysterics in her mother’s arms and beyond the reach of ar gument, entreaty, or even of acquiescence in her desires. CHATTER XV. When Esterbrook came Monday morning to see whether it was in order for him to blow his brains out, he found the Judson’s still at the Breeze Lawn House, and, to all appearan ces, they had no present intention of going away. At least Jimmy Coones, who took his horse, had heard nothing about it and was surprised at the question. Esterbrook, by no means satisfied as to the significance of this, hurried to the house, looked into the parlor which was silent and deserted, walked nil around the piazza and looked over the lawn where there were other guests in large numbers playing lawn tennis and croquet or swinging in hammocks, but no sign of the Judsons anywhere about. He then started in search of some one to take his card to the Colonel; and, after going all over the house, brought up, at last, at the door of the kitchen where he could hear the rattling and scraping of pots and pans, the banging of dishes, the suggestive thud of chop ping-knife, and a perfect babel of female voices and laughter. lie knocked and pounded on the door as loud as seemed befitting a gentleman; but being un able to make himself heard, he ventured to raise the latch aud look in, thus bringingdown upon himself the shame and humiliation of beholding the champion dirty kitchen of the State- and instantly he resolved to see what he could do at Albany the coming winter for the inspection of summer boarding house kitchens and the abolition therein of flies (both dead and living), of garbage, mephitic air, milk- pails, dirty girls, and lrowsy heads. It was a vast room incredibly littered with adisgusting,loathsome conglomeration of refuse and uncooked food; and, although there were side windows and three doors opening to the outer air, the windows were all closed and but one door open. Two girls were wiping dishes at a sink opposite and dancing a break-down; another was up to her elbows in dishwater; a woman was kneading bread at a table covered with dirty dishes and millions of flies; others were shelling peas, peeling potatoes, picking over berries, and "so forth; aud a girl with bushy, fiery-red hair flying in every direction, was alternately chopping meat in a large wooden bowl, and skirmishing with her hair to keep it out of her eyes and one of the meat bowls; and all were more or less talking, laugh ing, hallooing and i inging. The first who espied a gentieinan at the door cried out in awe struck tones: ‘ Girls! hush up!” and Esterbrook, fortu nately succeeding in maintaining his dignity despite his mortification and shame, commu- nicated his wishes and consigned his card to the care of the girl with the bushy red hair. He then returned to the parlor. The Colonel came down immediately. He looked vety grave, and his tones at once betrayed his agitation. “Oh! my dear yong friend]” he exclaimed, grasping the astonished Esterbrook by the hand, ‘‘you do not know how near I hav#come to losing my beloved child) Only the presence of a skillful New York physician here in the honse has saved her life! She was threatened with congestion of the brain at the bare men tion of leaving this place. I see no help for it now bnt that yon are destined to become my son-in-law. Thank God! I believe von are a noble young man I Bnt it is a terrible thing to take an only child from her parents. It is a terrible blow to her mother and to me. We were never before brought to realize that we must ever part with her, least of all that we should ever be called upon to leave her in the North.- But I am satisfied that yon are in every respect worthy of the feeling which you have inspired in my child; and her mother joins with me in yielding to your wishes.” “Sir, sir,” cried Esterbrook earnestly, “any thing that I can do to reward yon for this and be a man, I will dot” It was several days before Eva waa able to leave her room; bnt she knew the Esterbrooks had arrived and that the Berkshire hills were given np; and when Mrs. Esterbrook and the two girls came to sit with her, she was perfect ly contented, for she knew the Senator was down stairs. Everytime they came up they brought her numerous messages from him; and every morning be sent her a bunch of flowers which be had gathered with his own bands, and which she smiled on in a beatitude of joy. But when, at last, she was able to sit on the piazza and see him with her own eyes, the color rapidly came back to her cheek, aud she was soon herself. From this time onward, their happiness was as undisturbed as if the foolishness of Mother Eve had not brought toil, aud sorrow, and death into the world. Not a doubt of each other, not a jealous pang, not a single mis understanding, not a tear, not a frown, not a conflict of wishes or of tastes, not a diversity of temperament or of opinion, marred their perfect l’aradise; and, to crown all, the Colonel and his wife were not only resigned, but their hearts were full of j ly and of gratitude to Heaven as they daily beheld the happiness of their child and learned to know the worth of their destined son-in-law. “I am perfectly satisfied now,” said the Col onel to his wife, when, at the end of a month, the young couple became formally engaged. “I do not be.ieve a nobler young man exists South or North That he has a good head, a good understanding, and a conscientious de sire to be on the right side, is evident from the change his opinions have undergone. He was a Republican because his father was. He had accepted the party without question and with out thought ou the strength of its own preten sions and representations. I am persuaded that this change he has undergone comes from his innermost heart; but I fear it will be re garded here as an act of infamous apostacy. I regret that; but I rejoice that he sees the in iquities of the Republican party in their right light. As to his personal character, he has his faults, of course; but they are mainly the faults of youth or amiable weaknesses, whi.h are easily forgiven, l’erhaps he is a little self- conceited as yet; but he is young; and his early successes and the adulation of liis friends have naturally inflated his self-importance. He will outlive all that and look back and laugh at it all. He is high-minded and conscientious, and that is the main point; and he is zealous aud warm-hearted.” “Yes,” added Mrs. Judson, “and lie is affec tionate, and amiable, and unselfish, anil brim ming over with the milk of human kindness.” “ile is, indeed, ’ added the Colonel warmly; “and he is frank, generous, clear-minded, and the soul of honor. AU his impulses are noble and manly.” “Another thing, “added Mrs. Judson, “there is nothing of the irreverent and wicked in any of his wit as there is in so many young people. I respect him for that.” “An admirable young man in every re spect,” pursued the Colonel. “He is, indeed,” affirmed Mrs. Judson. Suchwast.be estimate put up in the lion. Warner N. Esterbrook by the Colonel and his wife cn lbs day when be became engaged to their daughter. If too flattering to that en tirely human young man, peril ps it was not m ire so than people an wont to place upon the character of an amiable, estimable youth, with good prospects in life, under like circum stances. At all events, lAtle Miss Eva had safely escaped being “crossed in love” and tiie danger of becoming eUbctii clabbsd A $4i;sjvs4itf "liven;’ for although love pan be gotten over easily enough the second or third tune, anil any number of times thereafter, the result id the first attack is oftcu perilous and probleui- Ear’.y in September tho Colonel received overtures for a compromise from his antago nists in Hie lawsuit, which originally brought him North. It was but a modicum of his claim; and the lawyers wanted him to hold out against it for awhile; but it was a round .... i e i^.„ iVr»n liiirrntmr.r anl Lilli million and freedom from litigation; and the Southerner spurned the idea of haggling lor more, whf n a million was enough, lie, there fore, hastened to accept the offer; and hva was nobly endowed. . _ 4 . T4 The marriage took p’aco in October, it was a beautiful ami interesting wedding, with a lovely bride, two lo’vtdy bridesmaids, a band- some groom, and two proud mothers and a well-satisfied father, look ng oi ; and thus ended the war between the North and South, far as Colonel Judson of Alabama was con- cirned. In a few days ho returned to his home, accompanied by a son-in-law (tor a visit of a month or two) with many pleasant memories of his experience ill the North to sweeten tlie bitter, and with bis knowledge considerably enlarged by his visit, though of the opinion that it was even more important that the Northern people should come South. Living On a Star. Light visits earth In many ways; A nnng Her clods tne sunbeam p.ays— Topaz and emerald fining back For pebbles ut lbs wajsMe track. Out of the black and heavy mould Tne loveliest of he: fliwirs unfold; The I ert seams t f cl. ft and lodge (listen with many a golden wedge. Whence Is her secret radiance won? 11, r darkest caverns feel the sun. And tliri ugu !ho gleam of night.shei turns Toward ores whereon Ills splendor burns. O il have we learned our errand high— We, chariot-home along t! o sky? A lamp for other worlds we are; Tank! we are living ou a star! The stars are earths, with clog and weight, Pacing through orbits sm til or great, S--lf-hludered, while a mighty thrlil Draws them forever sunward stilt. And. weighted, with them moves our earth; In her own self how little worth! Among the unnumbered stars, but one— A lifeless ball, without the sun. The snn, that makes the day divine; That shapes tne gem within the mine, And lints the blossom from Its root. And gives Its sweetness to the fruit! The sun, among his brother suns— Host upon host of shining ones I OnwardTwith them, our pathway lies, Open to all those heavenly eyes. Can wo, in that bright cavalcade, Jl I,., sordid alms ourselves degrade? Be wrong and meanness put afar From those who live cpsu a star! Dost are we, clogged with dost, and yet Oar snlrtt birth cannot forget; Like flowers, heart open to the light, We live by keeping Gad In sight. Dust are we? Soul-sparks from on high; Children of Immortality— sent hero to brighten Time’s dark oven, And live on earth as if In Heaven. In Heaven, so near, so luminous! Ohl when the earth-weight wearies os, Let ns remember where we are! Think! we are living on a star) —Lucy Lareom in Youth's Companion. She was admiring a big Newfoundland at the dog show, and, throwing her arms around his neck, said: “You dear old fellow, I love you!” A youth who heard har remarked: “How I wish I was a dog.” The answer came from the same sweet lips: “Never mind, dear; you’ll grow.” “Delays are Dangerous.” If yon are pale, emaciated, have a hacking cough, night-sweats, spitting of blood and shortness of breath, you have no time to lose. Do not hesitate too long-’till you are past cure; for, taken in its early stages, consumption can be cured by the nse of Dr. Tierce’s “Golden Medical Discovery,” as thousands can testify. By druggists. In speaking of the fall of Rome, Trof. Seeley ■ays that the empire perished for want of men, Then and Now. woo loved ms ones when I was eo!d And from yonr to ve turned in disdain; Now I would give the world to hold . Snob treasure as my own again. Ttsr, at my feet yon knelt !u vain, All your pleadings proved but nanght; N»w, my heart feels the void and pain, That with your life was fraught. All that I ever do or say, With ye ar thoughts never Mends; In loneliness I go my way. Wellej on have many Irlend". Yst, no heart among them beats for yon 8) fondly as does mine; It turns to yon with love as? roe, As warm as God’s sunshine. I view yon on the heights arar. With an empty aching heart; * You are my hope, my guiding star, * But In your fame I bare no part. COBKFLOtVEH. A Sermon from Flowers. Dear Household: The frolicsome (lance of the April rain adown the golden stairway of sunbeams was over. The earth looked up and laughed after the silver largesse from the clouds that had floated away, and the heaveDs smiled back in sympathy. Clasping my companion’s hand, I said: “Come out and see my darlings after their shower-bath.” Standing by the flowers, he—the light of whose brown eyes was as clear as the skies, and whose life was as fragrant of good deeds as the flowers—asked me: “What is it, do you think, that will wash our hearts and make our lives as bright, as beautiful as the rain lias done your flowers? It is a love for God. and— ’ with a child’s quick fancy adopting his metaphor—"and th be washed by the waters of sorrow.” I said hesitatingly, and comparing the while his life—into which so much rain had fallen— with my own, which then bad been all un clouded : “Tartly right and partly wrong. I have seen some people whose nature’s trouble seemed to harden.” “Then it must be toars— unselfish tears of sympathy for the sorrows of others. Ah, you are smiling. I am right.” Earnestly—how earnestly I well remember— he looked down in my eyes and said. - “You have preached yourself a sermon with the rain drops and the flowers for a text. Plant your sermon in your heart as a flower and cherish it always, my daughter. ’Twas an important lesson, simply taught, by one who often thus impressed upon the minds of his children the precepts contained in tho book of books. The incident flashed across my mind when I real Kerr's letter. A d, as in the case she cited, I am skeptical as to whether one of the “elect” would selfishly taka advantage of a child. Kerr is disgusted with the charity that throws the mantle of silence over the sins of hypocrisy and dishonesty. I agree with her that they should be openly denounced. But at the same time it is well to be sure that or.r motive in doing so is a good one, viz - teja^press evil. I think that to di-cuss freel 1 (No doings and belongings of others, simply i Rm talking, is both impertinent and unkind ' Jf I ever get my own consent to wofk in “ r03S stitch,” tne mottoes with which we pr it a moral and adorn our wails, the ssntime. rthat I perpetu ate shall be: “Gossip is t “ outgrowth of dice or ignorance.” If T hi l the framing of asocial code, th: penalty fop palicious gossip should be social ostracism. i8’ "Was TianaeiV tfiflT u :very sad ti have lieitb' r homo nor love. -n J yet the Fa ther knows best where the ir. >'ics of our ua turns are and wliat discipline vill bring forth, lie knows best what keys to ouch in human souls to draw out tho sweetc it and most per fect harmonies. Try to belir re tuis, Sigma, and my word for it, you’ll ba V.ppier in the trying. A Tiimk yon very much, Ven|as. Your invi tation to share the pleasures o, tho Household home is none tho less appreciated that I am 'queen of hearts” in a pleasant homo of my own. Big Four, you haven’t been to see us for a mouth of Sundays. Can it be that "she” de bars your coming? ^ SVLVASIA. Spottsyl vania C. II., Va. A Chat With Friends. Sigma, life, viewed through your cynic’s spectacles, must be the saddest, dreariest sight that e’er the sun shone on, and yet it is your own choice to look oil the world from behind those green and sickly glasses. How dread- full Now I, with my unclouded vision, see the world as it really is, and rejoice everyday, that I am permitted to live iu so happy and beautiful a p ace. Among other things, I see more flowers and bright, pretty grasses, than I do briars; and to one poor old croaking, raven, I hear a dozen little birdies chirping joyfully in the green-wood trees. Again, I, minus those horrible green goggles, see more frequently happy, contented faces, than sour, forbidding visages; and who can deny the fact that on the faces of tho sorrowing is oftener saen a look of patient resignation than one of hard and bitter despaii? But Sigma, if you really do, though cynical and misanthropic, bear a “sorrow's crown of sorrow,” let me beg you to remember that ‘ Snowy wings of peaco shall cover All the anguish of to-day, When the weary watch is o’er, And the mists have cleared away.” Charmion, your last lei ter was charmingly natural and refreshing. Let us have another real soon. Dear Viva, I want to “shake” with you over tho Woman’s Rights question. Will you al low me that privilege? A Mexicano, I was deeply touched by what vou wrote on the eve of your 21st birthday. How sad that one so young should exclaim, “Nothing but leaves! the spirit grieves o’er years of wasted life.” I hope that those lines may never liud an echo in my heart. Veritas, our Household bird, I want to ask your opinion of the “Ancient Manner. * I have read it recently, but fail to exactly under stand tbe moral. N L H , your letters, so true, sweet and womanly, remind one of a lively summer eve ning; therefore, we must call you our “Vesper Star ” Do you remember what the most beautiful of all heavenly bodies was called by the ancients? Florida, Musa Dunn, Muda Iletner, Nixy, Vaurien, your visits are admired by the House- hold in general, and by me in particular. Italie, I am very much pleased with your proposal that we discuss books and other pleas ant things in the Household. Come, Ut us take possession of that corner!] ust vacated by Give Away and Maid of Ath SJ£’ n *? d m "® ™ ! enjoy a cozy chat together. Well, I must tell you that I like Scott and Thackeray best of prose writers, and Tennyson is my favorite of all noets. I think—but Italie, please excuse me ■‘moment, I fancy I saw a dear little friend of mine enter the door just then, and I wmtto be the first to welcome her. Yes, I was not mistaken, and I am really delighted to see you “White Win^s.” Come with me aud I will make you known to the Fl ” 1 ! thouch we will promenade the parlors and conservatories, an’d I will sho- you aUthmg arm, and how pleasant to w*tc£therotorcome and eo in your flower-like face. Deane, the shimmer of your blonde hmr reminds me o golden snnUght to » voice is low and gentie . * ’ little “, w hiW Wings,rep^f* 1 and glance at me wiu> f > *1^ °f n ra^^£cSteS an index to yo Householders crowding aroLd'Md unwillingly I relinquish m, place by your side u* letter Maidof Athens 111 fore faithfal jn Private epistle* B, the way, I heard yonr favorite, Byron, dis cussed by some cultured and intelligent per sons the other day, and I regret to say that their opinion of him was unfavorable in the ex treme. They said that his works were slowly drifting towards deserved neglect, and that in time they would be lost in oblivion. Dear M. O. A., banish this unhealthy Byron from your library, and substitute sweet, pure, inspiring poets in his place. The Trinckss. Shorter College, Rome, Ga. Dear Household: How enticing your, do main is—in fact, its charm I cannot resist, so I come for a “pop call." Let me sit by Musa Dunn, for of all the Householders, she is my favorite, and this is saying “lots,” I assure you. Veritas is grand. For nearly five years I’ve read his "sunny” productions, and i’ve come to think that he is an indispensable part of your domain. His^iroductions come from the depths of a noble heart. Each week as I read the soul-inspiring letters of this band, I lay the paper aside with a sigh, an intense long ing for their ready flow of language. Let me tell you of a visit I made not long since. One morning “just as night’s candles had burnt out, and jocund day stood tip-top on the misty mountain tops,” I departed for the depot. My mind was in perfect joy—not a cloud marred its serenity—for was I not going off to spend a sweet, delightful week in what- so e’er manner I chose? Soon the train tug ged off, hearing with it its freight of precious human lives, many letters and rich cargo, / among the number. I felt that I was among strangers—not one familiar face greeted my eye. But the scene changed, and I see a famil iar form wending his way toward myself. I’m not mistaken, it must be the honorable Mr. an inmate of the town I intended vis iting. Yes, it is he, and I am honored by his presence for the whole delightful journey. Ere many hours had passed, the iron monster slacked his pace, and in an instant, as it were, we were standing ou the green sward, inhaling the cool refreshing air and watching the great vehicle shoot swiftly by. Then we began our walk to his superb country residence, a dis tance of only a quarter. Threading our way through the woods, beautiful now with the lovely-hued leaves, over which tho morning sunbeams flashed with subdued radiance, and the late flowers that peeped up hero and there from their lovely retreat. A few stray birds piped their matin hymns in tho tree-tops o’er- head, and, indeed, all things seemed to be re joicing in the works which the lavish ha d of Nature had scattered before us. After reach ing our destination and partaking of our morn ing repast, wc departed for church. Hero many smiling faces greeted mo and quite a gay time I had. I’bat evening wo attended a bap tizing. One lady resigned herself into the keeping of the dear old Baptist church. She did 1 cok so hippy and sweet—f know she has felt the cleansing power of our Savior's lore. Etch night we attended a dance or sociable, and eaca day something else. We traveled the whole cauntry from end to end. We witnessed the “conjugal knot tied,”, which bound to gether “two hearts that beat as one.” They were as hail lsoine a pair as ever the sun shone on. . The bride was attired in silk aud laces, the groom in broadcloth. A bounteous repast graced the occasion. Tho table fairly groaned under its weight of goo 1 things and massive and fl.i~l»>’Tag. Ah gen«V*P„yrt~ slowly oihiwing them on, arid tlieir briaat a:-- wece undimined with a cloud. I sincerely trust ’twill ever be thus an 1 their ship may not be. wrecked on the reefs. “You must return to-day, for your mother is quite sick,” was the message that drove away all my pleaiure and filled my mind with sorrow. Thus ended my visit. Look at this long letter! If I do not stop here, I shall probably, like Tennyson’s brook, go on forever, so if only to avert such a catas trophe, I’d better sign Golihe Asiihl'rn. Austin, Texas. Businas? Man as Christians. As one of our members wishes the senti ments of tha Householders in regard to reli gion being carried into business, I will give a few thoughts suggested by the question as to whether a business min can be a Christ.au or n °I know of no great expounder of moral prin ciple I know ot n > eloquent teacher of divine truth who is more useful in God’s world than a business man—one who carries his religion into his business. We are all endowed with temperaments pe culiarly our own, and many are easily excited to impatience in speec 1 ' so to speak. This is tho effect of temperament, and not to be at tributed to a want of faith in God’s watchful providence; for He who gave us our being knows our every weakness ami how hard it is to resist the petty annoyances of every-day life. . . , Yet a man can be religious in business af fairs if he realizes f i God’s eye is ever upon him His ear ever ady to hear. It will cause him to check his i m’^nce, to be honorable in dealing with his lenow-man, and to enjoy everything that He has given us, for this is pleasing in Ilis sight. Some people wear a long face aud groan after th' most approved fashion, and think that is religion; but they are like the barren fig tree— no fruit that anybody knows of. You must dress like a quaker and act like one, foregoing ail recreation, for that is a sin. Such peoplo are mere drones iu the great human hive. Their motive arises from ignorance, or envy, or a want of capacity to enjoy life. True reli gion teaches us to enjoy life, and that we need recreation for the body, mind and heart. We must love our fellow-creatures and be charitable to their faults, as far as lies in our ifcture. Our preacher used to tell us, when we were little, to love everybody; but we found out, as we grew older, that it was the hardest lesson we ever tried to learn. So we quit trying, and it is not learned yet. Leona. Norwood, Ga. “Life is too Short for Anything Like Hate.” I think this a good text for every day of many of our lives. When I unfolded a new paper last night and looked at the words: “Life is too short for any bitter feeling,” each word seemed laden with deep meaning for me. There have been some events in my life in the last few days, sufficient to arouse ail the bit terness in my nature. But trying, this golden bright morning—to lay it all down at the foot of the Cross where we are permitted to leave every care, I say, “The swift years on their wing? bear healing, life is too short for any thing like hate.” If only we all could or would empty our hearts of the bitterness and wrath, and empty them of all this we must—if we would have room for the love that “baareth all things—endureth all things.” Ella Wheeler has written some beautiful things. Some words—laden with deep heart feeling—that touch the hearts and wake res ponsive melody; as a musician touches with skillful fingers, the keys of an instrument, and makes into sound all the harmony it is capable of expressing. She has said Borne bitter things^ too, that tell of a heart tired of life’s show. Some tender words that tell of the peace that comes only with perfect trust in “Him who doeth all things well." “Too sent imental,” some people have said of her writ ings, but love need not always mean a sickly sentimentality. We of this century are grow ing too practical anyway. Utility seems to me to be the curse of the age. We must do nothing, like nothing, that is not useful, and if useful—for wh&t? All thftt tends to our ad- vancement—in a worldly sense—is useful. For worldly honors, for the highest places, for wealth, for power, our world is going mad. The world is wiser too. “Progress* is the watch word. • ine mina must ne very strong, mental food mast be abundantly supplied; the heart may starve. Bnt then, there is another world of beings, side by side with these others they move; but to the pride and vanities of this life they are dead. Not of the nse that they can make of each other, as stepping stones to places of greater preferment do they think but ef how they can best be fitted for the mas ter's use. Intellect is cultivated, but with the prayer; “Take my intellect and nse every power as thou shalt choose.” Honor is denied,* but it is the honor of the Master’s commendation well done—good and faithful “servant” Brothers—sisters, will I be welcome to-day, because I have talked of so serious a subject? I trust that you will not love me the less, be cause sometimes I must speak to you on such things. I think sometimes of writing to please and amuse. Sometimes I think that if I can only say something that will comfort some tired heart, I will be well content. Rosa Alba. Georgia Railroad Company, Orricx General Passenger Aoent, AUGUSTA, GA., Feb., 1, 1887. NOTICE TO THE PUBLIC. Tickets to Hillman, Ca. Notice is hereby given that Tickets have been placed on sale at all regular stations on line of the Georgia, and Gainesville, Jefferson and Southern Railroad to HILLMAN, GA., a flag station on the Washington Branch. Par ties desiring to visit HILLMAN and go to the “ELECTRIC SHAFT,” can now purchase Tickets to that point direct, instead of stop ping at Raytown (Sharon), and taking private conveyance from that point. The SHAFT is located just half mile from Railway Landing. Trains stop at Landing only when signalled, unless passengers on hoard desire to stop there. » . E. R. DORSEY, General Passenger Agent. 9,000,000 1st—To th* superiority of Coniine ores all other ma terials, as a stiffener for Corsets. ad.—To tha superior qual ity, shape and workmanship of our Corsets, combined ^with their - low prices. Avoid cheap Imitations made ot various Mads oi cord. None are genuine unless “ 00. WARNER'S CORALINE” is printed on inside oi steel cover. FOR SALE BY ALL LEADING MERCHANTS. WARNER BROTHERS, 380 Broadway, New York Ctty 686-17:| Old Pictures Copied and Enlarged Agents wanted In every town and eonnty In tbe South. Send (or terms and circulars. It you can not take an agency get our retail prices aud sene pictures dlrectto us, they will be done promptly and In best style. Address SOUTHERN COPYING CO., No. 9 Marietta street, Atlanta. Ga. 232-tf Ia iuliAitlu uui£UUhu*uiuUitJi A FATAL MISTAKE. * Tm5 Cleveland (Ohio) Press,' of February 23d, 1883, pub* lished an account of a fatal surgical operation which caused 4 great commotion among med ical men throughout the whole country, Dr. Thayer, the most eminent surgeon in Cleveland, pronouncing it scandalous. It appears that a Mrs. King had been suffering for many years from some disease of tbe stom ach, which had resisted the treatment of all the physicians in attendance. Tbe disease commenced with a slight de rangement of the digestion, with’a poor appetite, followed by a peculiar indescribable dis tress in the stomach, a feeling that has been described as a • faint “all gone” sensation, a sticky slime collecting about hum avu*» . -a i/jr xwuy *- — • j the contrary, it was increased. After a while the hands and feet became cold and sticky— a cold perspiration. There was a constant tired anu lan guid feeling. Then folio wed a dreadful nervousness, with gloomy forebodings. Finally tiie patient was unable to re tain any food whatever, and there was constant pain in tho abdomen. All prescribed rem edies failing to give relief, a consultation was held, when it was decided that the patient had a cancer in the stomach, and iu order to save the patient’s life an operation was justifi able. Accordingly, on the 22d of February, 1883, the opera tion was performed by Dr. Vance in the presenee of Dr. Tuckerman, Dr. Perrier, Dr. Arms, Dr. Gordon, Dr. Capner, and Dr. Halliwellof the Police Board. The operation consist ed in laying open the cavity of the abdomen and exposing the stomach and bowels. When tins had been doue an examin ation of the organs was made, but to the horror and dismay of the doctors there was no cancer to be found. The pa tient did not have a cancer. When too late the medical men discovered that they had made a terrible mistake; but they sewed the parts together and dressed the wound that they had made, but the poor woman sank from exhaustion and died in a few hours. How sad it must be for the husband of this poor woman to know that his wife died from the effects of a surgical operation that ought never to have been performed. If this woman had taken the proper remedy for Dyspepsia and Nervous Prostration (for this was what the disease really was), she would have been liv ing to-day. Shaker Extract of Roots, or Seigel’s Curative Syrup, a remedy made ex pressly for Dyspepsia or Indi gestion, has restored many such cases to perfect health after all other kinds of treatment have failed The evidence of its efficacy in curing this class of cases is too voluminous to be published here; but those who read tbe published evidence in favor of this dyspeptic remedy do not question its convincing nature, and the article has^AR. extensive sale; SOKE THROAT, CROUP AND HOARSE NESS CURED BY USING l Holmes'* MoQtlu Wash* and DENTIFRICE. PERSONS Wftsiring Artificial Teeth should use HOLMES’ MOUTH WASH and DENTIFRICE. It will keep the gums heal thy and free from soreness; keeps the plate from getting loose and being offensive. A Pure Breath, Cleat Teeth and Heal thy Gums by using Holmes’ Mouth Wash and Deutifrico. Try it. A Persistent Feeling of Cleanliness re mains for hours after using Holmes’ Month Wash and Dentifrice. From John H. Coyle, D. D. s., Profes sor Operative Dentistry and Den tal Materia Medica, Balti more Dental College. Having been shown the formula for Holmes' Sure Cure Mouth Wash and Dentifrice. I will say that from my knowledge of the therapeu tic action of each of these substances entering into its composition on deseased mucus mem branes of tbe mouth and gums, I believe it to be a specific in a large number of the ordinary deseased conditions for which it is recommend ed. I say this on theoretic grounds and am satisfied that a practical test of this mouth wash in my own practice ha3 more than justi fied my expectations. I therefore reccouiniend it for general use and would be glad to know that every man and woman in the country would try it for themselves, believing that it will result in great good to those who use it as directed. Athens, Ga.—I have had occasion recently to test the virtues of your Sure Cure Mouth WasR in an aggrevated case of inflamed and ulcerated guniB, with most gratifying re sults. I find that I can accomplish more in a short time with Sure Cure Mouth Wash than any other one of tiie many similar prepara tions I have ever used in my practice of many years. I wish that every one, old and young, would use your preparation according to the printed directions, and then, I think, tiie den tist would be able to accomplish more good for their patients, aud do it with more satisfaction to all concerned. H. A. LOWRANCE, D. D. S. t. ? t "AU Alt’Lib l i'i v ;,-8 ' r ;: rpHIS ELEGANT HOUSE IS NOT LAUGH bnt it ia so uf.(l planned that it afford, pie ro«»m for n Inrge family. Throw open tha double floors or portieres ami nearly the whole of tho ti ret door ie practi< ,,,l, v one large ap-irtmept.. a dos- I en persons may f nd he day here without prow iing- J particularly ns tl e i a large veranda, and forty per- i vmwdf Ufa A«4ftfU/l? r J6U^abaaiU , ii!JwSd^.tabiLv« : ‘-~ J ^-‘ yi4 - most fatdidioub h<»stef*s. The kitchen is so.idly eep- erated from the rest of the house, communicating with the dining room through a convenient pantry,io which are sink, shelves and drawers. In the South, whore detached kitchens are preferred, the room marked kitchen is used fora library or bed room, connecting with other rooms by double doors. This makes a delightful cove andairy arrangement. There are 2 lar^e and 2 small bed rooms on the second door, and 2 more can be finished off in the attic. Plenty of closets everywhere. The whole house is easily wanned by the one central chimney. Large illustrations and description or the above house, as well as of h9 other modem houses, ranging in cost from $4t>0 up to $6,000, m«y lie found in “Shop- pell’s Modern Low-Cost Houses,” a larcre quarto pamphlet of 1 ; 5 illustrations and very full reading matter. It shows also how to select sites, make con tracts, negotiate horns, &c, Ac. Mailed i>oetpaia to any address on receipt of 50 cents. Stamps taken, or if more convenient send $1 bill and we will lotorn the chance. Address, THE BUILDING PLAN ASSOCIATION. 24 Beekman Street (Box 2702), New York C HOICE of these finest.‘Jolld rolled crold rlut-a 78 cents. Filled nold $2 25 solid $5. Cheap “elec tric gold, etc.” rings 15 c^nrs 3 for £5 cents. Stamps taken. Rend slip of paper for s’ze. ^ t> a fVJES on ourlK«6 -1st, G a. and Ala M nta- JjA-L/ry Colleges: Miss and S C. Ladles’ t>»l- le-'eri: BcooolA, defies and Clubs tu every S: deia the Union by tne R^are. S*nd 4 ds f-^r loustrated Catalogue. HaKT JKWELKY CO., P O Box 6, At lanta. O i. 1IA111 GOODS BY MAIL To«my Part of the U.S. Send for Illustrated Cir cular of Latest Sty les to JOHN MEDINA, 403 Washington Street, BOSTON, MASS. WITCHES! (Illustration Is Two-thirfls actual size.) Almost everybody baa seen or heard of the Waterbury Watch. Probably no oth er invention ever patented has been so per sistently maligned and ridiculed am mis represented by watchmakers and dealers. The reason is obvious. There is not an opportunity to make as much on the sale of a $3.50 waterbury as on a 930 Waltham* and those who purchase the Waterbury aunt be induced to invest in the Wal tham. Every watch warranted. For ten new subscribers we will send a good Waterbury watch and chain. For one hundred new subscribers we will send a Fifty dollar gents or ladies Solid Gold watch.
