Newspaper Page Text
THE SUNNY SOUTH. ATLANTA. GA* SATURDAY MORNING, OCTOBER 1,1887:
3
(raoif *n ifwoi’i iDTixci noonmn-tleniii expressly m m “*b*ht roothJ”]
THE DUCHESS.
By the Author of ‘‘Phyllis” “Molly Bawn,” “Mrs. Geof-
r,” “Lady Branksmere,” Etc., Etc.
frey,
CHAPTER XVL
"Just when I seemed about to learn,
Where is the thread now? Off again!
The old trick! Only I discern
Infinite passion, and the pain
Of finite hearts that yearn.”
Hot very much, when all is told. The day
is too warm for that A good deal of tennis, a
little sauntering amongst the late roses, a tre
mendous amount of lounging, and flirtation at
will. The afternoon flies by almost before one
remembers it has begun, and now everybody
is lying about, rather exhausted from doing
nothing, and drinking tea, and champagne, and
divers cups with an unfeigned appreciation of
their merits.
Colonel O’Shanghnessy, a large, florid, well-
bred looking man, with a dictatorial manner and
the kindest heart in the world, is telling an old
and thrilling Indian tale (born of his years in
Hyderabad) to a select company. His wife,
at a few yards’ distance, is giving all the local
gossip, collected since her return yesterday, to
a pale little woman, who seems rather upset by
it. Some of our other friends are scattered
around, and Mr. Greene, who makes no secret
of his adoration, is lying prone at the feet of
the Duchess. The Colonel, having brought
his tale to a pitch that is positively appalling,
winds it up suddenly with all the knowledge
of a clever raconteur, and is rewarded by a si
lence that is half hysterical on the part of his
female audience.
Suddenly says some one—the Rector s wife,
I think—the little pale woman—
‘‘Does anyone know how Mrs. Brady is to
day? I heard she was ill, but ”
‘‘Yes. I called there this morning,” shouts
Colonel O’Shaughnessy—he always shouts
more or less. “She’s far from well. They
told me she had been confined——” Here a
most inopportune fit of coughing overtakes
him.
“Confined? What are you talking about,
Colonel,” cries his wife in condemnation.
“Why they have only been mar ”
Providentially, at this moment, her cup slips
along its saucer in the nasty treaeherous way
cups will at times, and Mrs. O’Shaughnessy
makes a grab at it, forgetful in her fear for the
prune silk, of the astonishment and horror
that possesses her.
“Confined to her bed with a bad cold,” roars
the Colonel, in a voice suggestive of murder,
and with a complexion positively apoplectic.
There is a dead pause; then somebody whis
pers something into Mrs. O’Shaughnessy’s
ear, who appears bewildered, and somebody
else gives au indignant kick to Mr. Greene’s
recumbent form, who is plainly on the verge
of hysterics.
“A bad cold,” persists the Colonel, wildly.
“Ca led there—saw her! Nothing worse than
that, I give you my honor.”
“The “nothing worse than that” is the last
straw and finishes Mr. Greene, who explodes
with laughter, and then rolls over and bites
the daisies in a last vain endeavor to restrain
his ungodly enjoyment. But Mrs. O’Shaugh
nessy, who has at last mastered the real mean
ing of the thing, evidently sees no reason for
restraining anything, and leaning back in her
chair gives way to mirth.
“And is that it?” says she; “Bless me what
a mistake I made?” And off she goes into an
unlimited number of cackles, until she shakes
again. Then Miss Cazalet is seen to draw
gently near, and as mirth has a trick of dying
out in her presence, once more a decorous
tranquility holds sway. Mr. Wylding, the
author, is with her.
“(>ne can see I scribble,” he is saying, in his
delightfully soft voice. “Yet when people
look at me they sometimes hesitate (it is a
compliment, I assure you); I am always
charmed with it, and I can aimost hear them
say, ‘he is like it, of course, but he is not so
spiritual as I imagined. And yet .’ You
can read the rest for yourself. Is it not? It
is all in my nose, I think,” with a delicious
frankness, “which is of a goodly length; and
in my upper lip—have you noticed my upper
lip"—which is distinctly en suite."
Miss C izalet murmers some inanity or other,
quite unworthy of her, her mind being with
her eyes, which are far away across the shaven
lawn, where stands Delaney. He is convers
ing with some one—she can not see whom—
but some one in white. Presently he moves a
little, and her pulses grow more even as she
sees that the woman in white is not—Norahl
A voice at her elbow makes her start.
“Can I do anything for you, Duchess?”
The voice is Lord Kilgarriff’s. and Miss Caza
let, looking abruptly round, finds that Norah
is sitting almost exactly behind her.
“Eh? what?” says the Duchess, with a rath
er absent air, turning to Kilgarriff. It is plain
the tone, not the words, have reached her ears.
“Miss Delaney—why this abstraction?” says
Mr. Greene, in accents mildly reproachful.
“Are all we nothing to you, that you thus wan
der into realms of phantasy? Come back,
come back, I entreat you, to solid earth and
us, and cease to tread in spirit immaterial
space ”
Norah, thus importuned, turns upon him a
smiling face.
“I have been thinking,” she says, “that I
shou'd like to play one set ”
“ With me?” exclaims he rapturously, scram
bling to his feet. “Consider it done. Now to
find two others on playful thoughts intent.”
“I was just wishing for a game myself,” says
Miss Cazalet amiably. “What do you say?
You and Miss Delaney against Mr. Wylding
and me.”
“I should be so charmed—so too delighted,”
says Wylding, “but there is this one trifling
obstacle to my bliss—I don’t play.”
“If I might aspire ” simpers Sir Bran-
drum, turning a languishing eye upon the
blonde beauty.
“To what?” asks Greene innocently.
“To—er—to be Miss Cazalet’s partner in this
projected game of tennis,” replies the Baronet
stiffly; and then in a lower tone, addressed to
the tall, fair goddess at his side, “Oh! that I
dared aspire to more—to all."
Miss Cazalet sweeps her cold eyes across his
facs with an insolence indescribable. This
man—this old man—to presume to hope that
-he will throw over Ventry and Denis for him!
“Well, is it a match?” says Greene, looking
at her with a dry twinkle in his eye.
“If you will,” returns Miss Cazalet indiffer
ently, ignoring his evident meaning; “Sir Bran-
drum, as you know, is an excellent—indeed—”
with a slow glance at the unfortunate Baronet
from under her half closed lids, “We might
safely say an old hand at it, and I ”
“You are indeed an enemy to fear,” says
Greene with a bow—Miss Cazalet being the ac
knowledged head of the women piayers in the
county. “Stiil, if you will deign to give us a
beating, I think Miss Delaney and 1 would like
to receive it.”
Norah, catching his eve, laughs a little. As
it happens, Katherine and she have never yet
played one against the other; and though com
ments on the excellence of Miss Delaney’s per
formances on the tennis courts have reached
Katherine’s ears, she had treated such praise
as a pitiful truckling to the beauty that even
she confessed to see.
When, therefore, the sets come to an end,
leaving the Duchess flushed delicately and un
deniably victress, there comes a light into Miss
Cazalet’s pale blue eyes hardly to be admixed.
She has been overthrown in public places by
this her foe.
“You have triumphed to-day in this matter,”
she says in a soft undertone, looking with a
6mile into Norah's large, dark eyes. “It is a
sign you th Dk, an indication that you will tri
umph always! Bat I tell you no.”
The delicate flush dies out of Norah’s cheeks.
She grows very pale. It is impossible to mis
understand what has been said, wbat ha3 been
meant. Has this girl—who towers above her
like her evil genius, white and fair though she
be—can she have guessed her cruel secret?
Has she pierced into her soul and read there
the love that was reared in pain, and yet
thrives with a vigor that defies all hope of
death. This sudden fear blanches her cheek,
but through it all there runs a horror of the
coarseness that has permitted such words to be
spoken.
“A Iways to triumph? No,” she says coldly,
and wilh admirable self-possession. “That is
given lo few—to none perhaps. And there are
days, I confess, when my serving is a very la
mentable failure.”
“Miss Cazalet, I think Madam Delaney
wants you—if I might he permitted?” says Sir
Brandrum at this instant, who generally speaks
in half sentences.
KatheriDe moves away with him, that curi
ous light still within her eyes, and Norah, feel
ing tired, dispirited, heartsick, turns round
and walks aimlessly in the other direction.
In the centre of the path she has chosen she
.sees Denis, and as he moves a little to one side
to let her pass he looks full at her with a kindly
smile. If she sees it she makes no response to
it, and only acknowledges his presence there
by a little faint bow. Then she has passed
him. And then a second later she knows he is
beside her, bending down a little as if trying to
look into her face.
“May we not be friends, my little cousin?”
asks he gen.ly. She can see that he is pale,
and that there is a great weariness in his mis
erable eyes.
“Friends! Why, that we are, surely,” re
plies she, her glance upon the ground, after
that one swift upward look that is now hurting
him so fiercely.
“I think not. I fear not. Everything,”
sadly, “is so changed. At home, there, in
Bal'yhinch, where first we met, you were so
different.”
"Ah, there I was in my father’s house,’
with a desperate effort at serenity. “Then it
behooved me to be civil to my father’s guest.”
The words fall from her like stones. Oh, why
must they be said? What evil fate has thrust
this burden on her? But pride, pride, what is
it a woman will not sacrifice for that!
“What do you wish me to understand?
asks he, growing, if possible, a shp ?e paler.
“That all those sweet days there, were a mere
wearying of the flesh to you? That you suf
fered me indeed, but that no honest feeling of
friendship towards me—that feeling,” hotly,
“to which I would have sworn—ever existed
in your breast. Norah! Is that the truth? Is
that your meaning?”
“Take, it as you will,” says she icily, al
though her lips are trembling. “You should
not have asked the question.”
' They had stopped in the eentre of a grass
plot, rather deserted at the moment, and now
she locks restlessly past him, and from side to
side as if seeking mutely a way of escape.
“I trouble yon. You would leave me,” he
says, unutterable despair in his tone. As he
speaks be moves a little to one side, as though
to let her pass.
“No, no. You must not think that,” mur
murs she faintly. She lifts her gaze to his,
and he can see that, ail at once as it were, the
combative look has gone from her eyes. Riven
as he is with counter emotions he can see that.
“Norah!” he exclaims, in a low piercing
tone, catching her hand.
And then it is all over, and nothing is left
him but the remembrance of the frown—the
passionately contemptuous glance of those
grey eyes—the haughty curl of the lips. She
is half way across the lawn now, moving
quickly, as if a little frightened, to where Kil
garriff is standing. There is something in her
whole air that seems to Delaney—standing
there, white, angry, stricken—suggestive of a
desire for help, for protection! To protect her
from him. In that lies the sting—the bitter
ness of it. And to go to Kilgarriff of all men!
What, after all, if that old friendship was
ripening into something warmer. If—even as
she bad refused him—the divine spark that
lies in every heart had broken into flame.
How ofteu does a foolish child, frightened,
puzzled, by some strange new experience, an
swer at random, scarce knowing its own
mind.
And yet—and yet—. How could he forget.
Once again she stands upon the stepping
stones—once again, she sways and trembles—
and once again—ala6! alas! for the mournful
sweetness of a past moment never to be known
again—she is within his arms. She lies upon
his breast; willingly, he feels and knows;
against his heart her heart beats. And then
the pretty head thrown back, the eyes—such
eyes—looking with that swift, shy rapture into
his. It is a momentary gla-.ee indeed—a flash.
But, oh! what a world of tender love it holds!
Yes, she loves him. That one sweet glance
had betrayed her. Though twenty thousand
demons yelled the contrary in his ear, he
would not believe it. So fair a building could
hold within it no blot, no falsity. A thrill of
passionate joyousness strikes him, as memory
holds him captive at her will; and then all at
once she releases him, and the present stands
cold and bleak before him, without hope, or
chance of escape from the thraldom into which
he has sold himself, not knowing. There is
Norah, a little way off, smiling into Kilgarriff's
face, a touch of positive relief on her lovely
face. He feels stunned, inanimate. How can
he go on like this? How live out the long life
before him? He rouses himself angrily, but
fails to shake off the dread depression that has
seized upon him. It is absurd, ridiculous, he
knows; yet somehow he feels frightened at the
length of days stretching oat before his mental
view; days colorless, verdureless, void of dew,
or any other gracious visitation. What is it—
what has happened to him?
[to be continued.]
BOYS & GIRLS’
DEPARTMENT.
The Widow’s Son.
Dear 4unf Judy: As bright, beautiful
Venus has invited me to pay a visit to the ju
venile department, I meet cordially accept her
kind invitation. I generally imbibe the spirit
of the company I have with me. If old, sedate
and sober, I am grave also; but if youthful
and merry, I share in their joys and am cheer
ful and happy. I love the honest, innocent
prattler of nice, well bred children; and I also
like the right sort of boys and girls who re
tain their innocency while passing through
their teens up to young womanhood and young
manhood. This is the training term, and the
most critical in the whole course of life. Habits
are formed, whether good or bad, which are
generally lasting as life. We make our ehoice
during this period of what our future pursuits
shall be. The honest, industrious path of duty
which leads to health, happiness and prosper
ity; or the gay revelry of thoughtless-mirth
and reckless indifference about the future, in
dulging in present pleasures regardless of con
sequences. As I have passed through most of
the trying years of life and, I trust, have
gained wisdom and experience, I would like
to warn others to steer a straight coarse, so as
to avoid the many dangers of the way, and get
safe home at last. “The way of transgressors
is hard”—a dull, dreary, rugged path. But
wisdom’s way is a pleasant one and all her
paths are peace. For “the way of the just is
like the shining light that shineth more and
more unto the perfect day.”
Fernie, I am proud to be your pet. Perhaps
a more intimate acquaintance would place you
my pet. I wish you a bright future. I wish
all the boys and girls to enter heartily into
every exercise that is conducive to health and
happiness—such as will aid you in the pursuits
of life. Try to get a knowledge of everything
worth knowing. Boys should learn the use of
tools, so that they may deftly handle a spade or
hammer or brush or a pen; in fact, make them
selves useful—be able to help themselves when
no other help can be had. Girls also should he as
well qualified in cooking, knitting and sewing
as they are in music, drawing and in the higher
branches of learning. The useful is, generally,
of more value thau the ornamental.
May wisdom guide you all the way, is the
sincere wish of your friend, Veritas,
Quebec.
Chat With Home-Makers—The Dairy.
A largo, irregular procession was approach
ing the city of Nain. People of all classes
and conditions were mingled together, one and
all striving to get as near as possible to the
Prophet of Nazareth, who walked among
them. The sick pressed forward to receive
His healing touch—the well to hear His won
derful teachings.
Another procession was coming out of Nain;
marching slowly, in garuents of mourning,
and silent, save for the wails of those who, in
the Eastern manner, mourned for one dead.
For this long train of people followed an open
bier upon which lay the lifeless body of a
young man. Fair robes and flowers clothed
the pale form with beauty, but could not take
away the sadness of death.
Before the city gates, the first procession
| stopped and made way respectfully, while
I many looked with pitying, tearful eyes upon
the sorrowing company. Then, as now, there
were few who knew not the grief that death
brings into a home.
The question passed along, “Who is dead?”
and with the name there was told the sad sto
ry that has never failed to awaken sympathy
in a kind heart, “An only son and his mother
is a widow.”
Jesus, too, had compassion, and, making
His way through the crowd He went to the
weeping mother.
“Weep not,” He said to her.
In vain would we bid a mother to cease her
tears when her dear and only son, taken by
death, was about to be buried out of her sight.
But could Jesus with His own human lips have
spoken tboie words in a human ear and given
no cornfor ? Surely they went straight to that
mother’s burdened heart, winged with Ilis
love, laden with His symDathy.
And that brief sentence spoken by Him,
more tbau once to those who wept, has come
echoing down the ages, carrying comfort all
the way to sorrowing hearts.
The sad mother, hearing His words, lifted
her bowed head and dried her streaming eyes,
that she might look upon the face of Him who
spoke so swi etly, so tenderly to her. And
with that look into His face her grief was
calmed.
Then Jesus went to the bier and touched it.
The be arers stood still with their burden, the
loud lamentations ceased, and a hush fell upon
that vast, attentive throng of people.
The Prophet, they thought, would hut look
upon the face of tbe beautiful dead, and drop
a tear for one called so early to the grave.
Yet they listened in silence for, perhaps, he
would speak some words of comfort precious
to all mouruers upon this dark earth where
sorrow abounds.
But it was to the dead one he spoke with a
voice of command:
“Young man, I say unto thee, arise!”
Who can imagine the thrill which passed
through the heart of every one who heard!
And who can picture the scene;—the awe
struck faces— he hands uplifted in astonish
ment—the forms of men fallen down in terror
—when the dead man, obeying that voice, rose
up and began to speak. Then led by the hand
of Him who had called him back to life, he
was restored to the arms of his mother
“God hath visited His people!” said the
awe-struck multitude.
Rachel.
Dear Aunt and Cousins: I must call in for
a short time to chat about the nice re-union
we are to have on the pavilion at Grant’s Park
one of the afternoons that Cleveland is there.
Now, won't it be delightful charmante ?
Cousin Bertram, I hear so many nice things
of you, and that you are good and beautiful.
I wish most sincerely to meet you, with B. S.
B., during the Fair.
I attended the re-union of the Third Georgia
Regiment at Eatonton. There I had the pleas
ure and surprise of meeting a L. B. cousin of
years past—Blue Eyes.
Mountain Hoosier, Dream is very glad Left
enjoys her letters.
Ah, Bellum Wren
Tyro, ’tis well for that parenthesis, or I
should not have consented so readily for you
to know my name.
Red Head, I would love to meet you. ’Twas
sad indeed to hear of Monk’s untimely death.
You have my sympathy in your bereavement.
Dearie, let me tell you of a lovely debutante
spirituelle style, a poem of grace, a dulcet voice
and low, when at evening her dress decollete,
hair o la Pompadour, she reminds me of that
fair and radiant maiden whom the angels called
Aenore; but she is my “White Wings ”
Goldie Ash burn, I appreciate your reference
to me ma chere-
Aunt Judy, search your basket of letters for
one who is languishing with “disappointment.”
Please do; he perhaps has fallen into the waste
basket.
Dear Bonnie, the terms you used in refer
ence to Ruby Lynn (“sweet and pretty”) are
well adapted to Bonnie Sweet Bessie.
The gloaming falls softly around me—
Zephyrs soothingly kiss my brow;
The leaflets’ sad murmuring may be
An echo of my thoughts just now.
Yours fondly, Dream.
Dear Aunt Judy and Cousins: I have writ
ten two letters to the Letter Box, and as both
were cast into the waste basket I will make
one more attempt. My motto is “Persevere,”
and I think it is a good motto for all.
I am “sweet sixteen” years of age, light
hair, blue eyes, medium height and full of fun.
I never think of sweethearts, a3 nearly all girls
do when they reach my age; hoys never enter
my head. But I must confess that I have a
tender spot in my heart for Billy the Kid and
Cecil. I would like so much to carry on a cor
respondence with them if they desire a real
nice correspondent.
I am again hard at work in school after a
very pleasant vacation. We are going to bnild
a six thonsand dollar school house next year
and establish the public school system, which
will benefit our town to a great extent.
Putnam is hard at work preparing an exhibit
to be maae at the Piedmont Fair, and she ex
pects to bring home the one thousand dollar
premium.
Little Sweetheart, I think I know yon.
Cecil DeCamp, will you correspond with me?
I love to write letters and to receive thaw.
Aunt Judy, please don’t cast me into the
waste basket; I have done my best. It will be
heartless if you do.
Good-night. Tete-a-tete.
Dear Cousins: Several weeks have glided
swiftly past since I had the pleasure of being
with you; and as I have only made one visit to
you, I expect I have passed out of your mem
ory long ago. So I have concluded this after
noon to drop in and let you know that your lit
tle “coz” still exists.
I have just finished reading the Sunny South.
I think Aunt Judy’s suggestion, as to the L. B.
re-union, a capital idea, and think such a gath
ering together of cousins would be delightfully
pleasant. I sincerely hope it will be so that I
can be present, for I am anxious to meet each
and every member of the Letter Box.
Little Sweetheart, I have fallen completely
in love with you, and would like to corrrespond
with you. If you are willing, please write the
fir it letter. Aunt Judy will give you my ad
dress.
Grace Darling, write again. Your letter was
highly enjoyed.
Ruby Lynn, do you remember that after
noon, not very long ago, when we had such a
thrilling adventure? I shall never forget it—
no, never!
Bonnie Sweet Bessie, I will answer your pri
vate letter in a few days.
With much love to all the cousins, I am as
ever, lovingly, Fairy.
I have written to
BY MATTIE H. HOWARD.
“I do wonder what is the matter with this
milk. I have churned and churned and
churned, and this is all the butter I have. It
does not pay to churn. It is more trouble
than it is worth.”
“Let’s manage differently and see. Tell me
first how you managed.”
“Managed? Why. I left it with old aunt
Dinah, the milker. I thought she knew all
about it. I thought churning and taking up
the butter was enough for me to do. She
milks and washes the things and strains the
milk into the large jar, and I chum and I don’t
see why I can’t make nice butter and a plenty
of it. There seems to be enough milk.”
“I see your error. That plan will do in win
ter, but in summer you should have c ean, flat,
tin pans. Let aunt Dinah strain the morn
ing’s milk into the pans. Just before she
comes with the night’s milk, do you go out to
the dairy, which should be in the yard in a
cool place where plenty water can be had.
Take a clean spoon; skim the cream from the
pans into a jar. When aunt Dinah comes
with the fresh milk, let her strain it into the
jar with the cream. By morning all will be
“turned” and ready to chum. Do not wait
until the whey eats the cream, but chum at
once and you will get all the butter that can
be gotten out of that quantity of milk and it
will be nice and rich. Do not be impatient
and pour boiling water into fie chum. If you
do, you will spoil the milk make the but
ter like oil. If the milk sbk Md foam, move
it near the fire until the prop)-* temperature is
reached, but do not let it gfii'Tdb hot, by so do
ing the milk will not be good to drink, and
and nice, fresh, cool butter-milk is refreshing
for a summer dinner-drink. The reason you
failed in making batter before was becanse by
mixing the night’s and morning’s milk to
gether, one had already “turned,” or “turn
ed” before the other did, and the whey eat up
the cream of one milking. That is a com
mon error for the inexperienced to commit.
In winter the milk does not turn so quick
ly. You can strain several milkings into
a jar, and by keeping away from the fire it will
not turn, but will remain sweet for some time.
Sometimes the milking is irregular in winter,
and churning cannot be done but once or twice
a week. In such a case, keep the jar away
from the fire until there is enough milk for a
churning, then set it on or near the heaivh.
Turn it around now and then so that a uniform
temperature is maintained. Be careful t^at it
does not get too hot. If it does the butter will
be white and spongy. When it is turned see
that the temperature is right. In cold weath
er it is well to set the churn on the hearth in
the kitchen or in the family sitting room if you
will be neat and sot splash the milk. Churn
with animation, but steadily, and there will be
no difficulty in making nice butter. Some read
while churning. This can be done, but it is
better to do one thing at a time and do each
well. If all the household duties are per
formed systematically—each in its proper
time—there will be plenty of time for reading
what should be read and writing what is best
to write. To see a woman iu a dowdy mother
hubbard dress chumin^- '.nft a choap novel in
her lap reading every now aAd then forgetting
her churning, then suddenly remembering and
taking half a dozen rapid strokes, then stop
ping again, is a horrid picture; but to see a
neatly dressed lady sitting erect churning with
uniform, animated strokes is a picture worthy
to be painted by the finest artist.
Rich cream in the coffee is much better than
milk. To manage this, let aunt Dinah strain
a china bowl full of milk in the morning. Let
it set all day and the cream will be ready for
supper. Skim it off and use in your tea or
coffee. Let her strain more and set it away
for breakfast. The clabber left is nice and
some one may eat that sweetened aad flavored
to taste. The clabber left in the pans in the
summer can be made into curd which can be
served in various ways. Some like it with
cream and sugar, others eat it with butter. If
it is not all needed for the table, the pigs and
fowls like it very much, bat do not feed them
around the dairy. They will become very
troublesome and will annoy you no little.
Be sure to see that aunt Dinah uses plenty
of soap and water in keeping the diary and its
belongings in neat order.
time—please do let me speak a few words lo
some of the members.
White Wings, are you not yet ready to dis
cuss “She?” I wish I could see all in that
book that dear, wise, N. L. H. describes.
Johnson Esse, how I should like to be with
you among the Cumberlands—my Cumber-
lands!
Leslie Avon, do you know more of me than
appears in the Household? Your sweet, se
rious views of life interest me greatly.
Nixy, be comforted—neither was I honored
with a place in No Noin’s scrap-book.
Dauntless, are you acquainted with Quien
Sabe?
Lallah Rookh, stay not away too long, we
miss you.
Lita Vere, Susie Steele, Vi Hawthorn, Hem
lock, Sigma—but I’ll hush, for if I stop and
run away, I’ll live to write another day.
Don’t forget Musa Dunn.
Waxahacnie, Tex.
Social Sympathies and the Quebec
Exhibition.
Dear Mother Hubbard: I admit that the
ouiside public cannot be interested in our mu
tual admiration of each other, and yet it is
only natural that we Bhould give expression to
our feelings in selecting and naming our favor
ite members of the large Household family. If
a brother or a sister be in trouble and express
his or her affliction, shall I withhold my heart
felt sympathy? Or if others have joy, may
not I rejoice with them? I have for many
years endeavored to comply with the apostolic
injunction: “Rejoice with them that do re
joice, and weep with them that weep.” I be
lieve I have read all the Household letters for
the last seven years, and all of them were less
or more interesting. Some of the writers told
of their trials and afflictions; others of their
bereavements and heartfelt grief in the loss of
very dear relatives; others, in the flush of
health and happiness, gave vent to their jubi
lant feelings and their joy, through their let
ters, was imparted to others. And so it has
always been that those who told the House
hold of their sorrows, always found sympa
thizers. I have been admonished, edified, in
structed and delighted, by the contributions
of my Household brothers and sisters; and I
shall always have a hand, a smile and a kind
word for every one of them who deigns to no
tice me.
I have read “She.” The author is a clever
writer; but his pictures, though well executed,
are not like anything T have ever known,
read or heard of. Jules Varne writes thrilling
adventures, but they all come within the range
of possibility, but H. Rider Haggard’s strange
Every 'Woman Knows Them.
The human body is much like a good clock
or watch in its movements; if one goes too slow
or too fast, so follow all the others, and bad
time results; if one organ or sec of organs
works imperfectly, perversion of functional
eflort of all the organs is sure to follow. Hence
it is that the numerous ailments which made
woman’s life miserable are tbe direct issue of
the abnormal action of tiie uterine system.
For all that numerous class of symptoms—and
every woman knows them—there is one unfail
ing remedy, Dr. Perce’s “Favorite Prescrip
tion,” the favorite of the sex.
My Dear Uncle Punch:
Aunt Judy and the sousing, but they have not
chosen to notice my letters, so I have, at last,
decided to write to you. Now, Uncle Punch,
please don’t feel slighted in knowing that you
were the last one to whom I chose to write,
but accept this apology, that I, knowing that
it was not conventional to write to you, but to
Aunt Judy and the cousins, wrote to them and
you know the result.
I have long been desirous of becoming a
member of your department but it seems tnat
Fate is against me (or Aunt Judy.) I read so
many letters from new cousins, and it seems
that they are very easily admitted. Will some
friendly cousin till me how he or she managed
to slip in so nicely.
I would like to know the Hot Springs girl,
for I live in Arkansas, too. And you are very
fond of the boys; since I have heard that I
should be more pleased to know you, as ail
boys like girls who are fond of their society.
Bonnie Sweet Bessie please write a letter
soon. You have a Sunny South reputation. I
mean by this that you are known wherever
tbe Sunny South goes.
Please publish my letter in your next num
ber, is the request of
Ycul the Timid.
“Night has put on his jacket
And around his burning bosom buttoned it with
stars."
Here I sit, up stairs by myself, listening to
the merry chatter of the boys and girls down
stairs. I wish we all had a beau at the same
time, for then one would not have to ereep up
stairs and get scared every time a rat ran
across the room.
If some of you don’t Hush ! Wbat is
that? Good-bye for to-night. I’m going down
stairs.
Well, I went down stairs. One of my sis
ters (best eld girl in the world) left her beau to
talk to me—or rather let me talk to him. I
think I happened in at the right moment, for
he looked awful serious.
I wish I could fall in love, so I could have
something to talk about. Think I would tell
every one I met.
Do tell me how to answer when the boys
“pop the question.” (Excuse me, cousins, I
nevfer use slang; but ready I did not know an
other name for it.) The girls laugh at me for
saying “nor,” and I don’t want to say “yes.”
If some of you want a lively correspondent,
write to Quleika.
A Little of Everything and a Great
Deal of Nothing.
Dear Mother Hubbard: Here I am again,
after so long a time, alert, eager, ail out of
breath, both with my haste to get here, and
my fear lest some-body has forgotten me en
tirely. You may scorn me if you like, slight
ma if you will, fight me if you dare, but the
one thing I cannot endure is for everybody to
forget me—don’t one of you “dear five thou
sand” of the Household ever attempt such an
atrocity!
Mr. Vaurien, you may not believe it, you
may not get everybody else to believe it, but
I’d just like to assure you, sir, I am capable
of bolding “sweet converse” on other things
besides “pleats, tucks and frills.” I am the
busiest little mortal you ever saw, and can do
nothing with a grace that would cheat you into
the idea that I was doing something, and a
most important something at that! I have a
bead for history, a heart for the beautiful, an
idea of science, a smattering of metaphysics, a
knowledge of economy—social, political and
household—a predilection for novelists, a love
for poets, a respect for art (more for nature),
and if I do not know a flue painting as well
as Ira Jones I once thought I did, and that an
swered the purpose equally—as long as it
lasted I had a picture—ah, it was a lovely
picture, my comfort, delight, admiration, ’till
one day, one fatal day, across the even tenor
of my way came an individual (she called her
self a “connoisseur”), and she declared it was
“really as pretty a3 any chromo” she had ever
saw in her life! What a fall was there!
Coolly and haughtily I told her I knew it was,
calmly and gladly I shewed her the door,
slowly and sadly I kissed my cherished picture,
and with many sighs, a few tears, and a dis
tinct feeling of injury, gave it—with my bless
ing—to the colored lady who inhabits my back
yard cabin, and, seeing she prizes it as once I
did, I’d die before I’d turn “connoisseur,”
disturb her peace, and destroy that ignorance
which is such perfect bliss. Surely, though, I
may—without fear of successful contradiction
—admire the beautiful pen-picture of our
Italie, given recently in the Household.
B. C. A., I’d like to pat your bald head for
giving us such a treat! You are bald-headed
are you not? Most intelligent gentlemen have
bald heads—I think they are lovely.
Last summer I met our Rural Widow, and
I hope she will forgive me for telling it, but
she is charming. Her bangs are not so pretty
as mine, her mouth not nearly so big, but she
has a charmiDg nose, a broad low brow, a
superb figure, and a vivacity of manner that
goes straight to your heart—if you have one.
Would’nt it be nice if our level-headed
Mother Hubbard will permit, to give pen-
pictures of the Householders we know? I
know we would all be pleased, and if the out
side world isn’t interested, let the outside
world quit peeping in at onr windows. I never
knew but one person who preferred to dislike
the Household, and he was a man—you might
know—big, and fat and hateful, and he said
he never read the department, “’twas a mixt
ure of nonsensical things, compliments, femi
nine discussions and the like,” that dil’nt
strike his gigantic intellect very favorably.
And yet he knew all that was in it—I’d like
to know how when he never read it! All my
smattering of metaphysics does not aid me
here! I’ll wager anything—and I told him so
—he had written for the department himself,
and got chucked into the waste-basket—good
enough for him!
Mother Hnbbard, I have been good a long
fancies do not. If “She” be alegorical I fail to
see it. I asked a learned author what he
thought of “She,” and his reply was: “I
think it a very ingenious lie.” Of course it is,
but all works of fiction are creations of tbe
mind. But what is the purport of it? “Why,
to sell,” he laconically replied. “The New
Columbus” story which we have had in the
Sunny South is in much the same strain as
“She,” only more in keeping with what might
be or might have been. I was reading Bishop
Burnet’s History of the Reformation, when a
frieud gave me “She,” and the infatuation was
such that I laid history aside till I had read
the thrilling romance of “She.” And what
have I gained by it?
Oar great Provincial Exhibition has jnst
come to a close. It was a great affair and
brought many thousands of people to our city.
I spent part of two days within the iarge in-
closure and wearied myself in my enjoyment.
There were horses, cows, sheep, pigs, poultry
of every variety, and birds, too, rich iu plu
mage and sweet in song. There were farm
products, cereals, tubers and bulbs, and fruits
In tempting variety. There were all sorts of
agricultural implements; also butter-making
and cheese-making by machinery. Then there
was weaving by machinery, and a host of other
works going on—all driven by steam. In the
great building and its adjoining rooms and gal
leries, were all sorts of merchandise, grand
paintings, original and copied. I saw one old
oil painting by Landseer, worth $30,000. But
time would fail me to tell of all the rich and
beautiful displays which were exhibited. And
still more beautiful than all the works of art is
the picturesque scenery around the elevated
heights of the exhibition grounds. Southward
flows our noble river, and beyond a cultivated
stretch of beautiful homesteads, and in the dis
tance the blue hills of Vermont; southeast is
the citadel on the height above the river; north
west is the valley of the St. Charles river; and
northward, quite close to where you stand, is
the battlefield where General Wolfe was slain,
and his foe, General Montcalm, mortally
wounded. Thank God for peace and pros
perity; we have both,
With unabated love to all of my Household
friends, especially to those who greet me in
their letters.
I am just after receiving the Sunny South
of the 10th September, ’87. As usual I read
the Household letters first.
Fanny Thistle, your log cabin cottage, with
its antique furniture, would have more charms
for me than a palace. Thanks for the picture
you have given of it and the mementoes it con
tains.
Sub Rosa, I am glad to meet you again.
Welcome Johnson Esse; your letter is
charming, and I consider you an acquisition to
our Household.
Yes, my beautiful sweet scented blooming
Hawthorn, I give you a real Irish cecul mile
failtha. I sympathize with you in the loss of
the loved ones who have so prematurely
reached life’s terminus. I wish you prosperity
in your Sunday-school teaching and in your
mission work. As to your dancing; I say,
“Let not your good be evil spoken of." Write
to me and I will give you my views on this
question. Veritas.
Quebec, box 74, P. O. St. Rochs.
How Little Dorm Passed the First
of August.
Dear Mother Hubbard: |Free Lance suggested
that each member write a description of his or
her present surroundings and exactly what has
occurred about them on the first of August: in
short, that we hold a sort of experience meet
ing among your band. I like the idea and will
give in my experience forthwith. To begin
with, I opened my eyes in a strange place and
with a most bewildering sensation this morn
ing. I arrived here late at night, quite tired
after a long weary drive over the dusty roads;
found my friends prepared to give me a cordial
welcome, and soon found a delightful bed and
forgot my cares in the arms of Somnus. No
wonder everything was strange on my awaking
this morning. Have any of you ever found
yourselves a stranger in a strange land, com
pletely isolated from all relatives and dear
friends? You can sympathize with me then.
Llano is quite a lively little towD, situated on
the Llano river, and is the capital of Llano
county. It promises to become quite a city
soon, as considerable mineral wealth is being
developed. It is also surrounded by extensive
stock ranches, bat that seems no longer a prof-
i'able business. I have not seen enough of the
place to give a minute description, so I will wait
until another time and write about a less inter-
esring topic—myself. At eleven o’clock the
sound of the church bell called the people to ser
vice. I joined the procession lo the chnrch, and,
oh, that I could express the gratification, the
deep solemn gladness that filled my heart as I
bowed my head in prayer to the dear loving
Father in heaven. I forgot that hundreds of
miles lay between me and home,bnt felt that we
were all together, thanking Him for his gra nous
mercy and loving kindness to us a united hap
py family; but the Amen sounding throughout
the quiet church suddenly recalled me to my
surroundings, and giving my loved absent ones
into the care of God, I turned my thoughts to
the sermon. The subject, “Family Govern
ment,” was ably and eloquently delivered, and
if it is possible that any parents left that
chnrch
upon thi
—Rev. FTB. Palmer. 'He la yet a young
and bids fair to do a coble work in the world,
for his heart and soul are in it.
This afternoon I have read the books of
Hosia and Joel in my bible, and then had a
most delightful drive about the town. Please
Dear Mother Hubbard and the Household, be
kind to the stranger and give me a place among
you and extend a welcome to
Little Dorrit.
Llano, Texas.
Floral Notes.
This is the time to transplant bnlbs of the
old-fashioned white lily—L. candidate—one of
the most beautiful of flowers. The flower
stalks have died and the bulbs are resting be
fore they throw out new roots and leaves that
are to remain green all winter.
This is also the time to transplant the Orien
tal poppy. Dig up the long roots and set them
out as deep as they were originally growing.
They, too, will soon throw out leaves which
remain all winter.
And peonies. We have found tbis the safest
time for planting, although they make no win
ter leaves. Somehow they seem to throw out
rootlets and get a closer hold on tbe soil than
when the planting is delayed till spring.
At a lats flower show I saw a spike of glad!
olous on which the flowers in one row were
light pink and those on the other side a bright
scarlet. It was an interesting sport, but after
all the old-fashioned way of oearing but one
kind of flowers is most desirable.
Among the lilies now in bloom L. Wallacie
is conspicuously beautiful. The flower is of a
deeper color than what is known as “apricot
yellow,” but not so deep as that of the old tiger
lily. It has reflexed petals beautifully spotted.
Senex.
FAITH CUBE FAIRLY BEATEii.
Chaplain Hall Writer the Folio wine Ha*
markable Letter.
| From the Albany N. Y., Express.
For many years my wife had been
the victim of nervous dyspepsia, of the
chronic, distressing and apparently in
curable type from which so many of her
sex suffer, languish and die. It was all
the worse because the tendency to it
was inherited. She had been under the
systematic treatment of many of the
best physicians in New York andBrook-
lyn and elsewhere for twenty years with
only temporary relief. In fact, there
were few, if any, kinds of food that did
not distress her, so diseased, sensitive
and torpid were all the organs of diges
tion. The usual symptoms of dyspep
sia, with its concomitant ailments, were
all present—bad taste in the mouth,
dull eyes, cold feet and hands, the sense
of a load upon the stomach, tenderness
on pressure, indigestion, giddiness,
great weakness and prostration, and fu
gitive pains in the sides, chest and back.
I have often risen in the night and ad
ministered stimulants merely for the
sake of the slight and transient relief
they gave.
Intermittent malarial fever set in,
complicating the case and making
every symptom more pronounced and
intense. By this time the pneumo-
gastric nerves had become very seri
ously involved, and she had chronic
Gastritis, and also what I may be al
lowed to call chronic intermittent ma
larial fever all at once. For the latter
the physicians prescribed the good, old-
fashioned, sheet-anchor remedy, Quin
ine gradually increasing the doses, until
—incredible as it may seem—she actu
ally took THIRTY GRAINS A DAY FOR
days in succession. This could not
last. The effect of the quinine was,
if possible, almost as bad as the two
fold disease which was wearing away
her strength and her life. Quinine
poisoning was painfully evident, but
the fever was there still. Almost every
day there came on the characteristic
chill anti racking headache, followed
by the usual weakness and collapse.
About this time I met socially my
friend Mr. Norton, a member of the
firm of Chauncey Titus & Company,
brokers, of Albany, who, on hearing
from me these facts, said: “Why, I
have be *n through almost the same
thing, arid have got over it.” “ What
cured you?” I asked eagerly. “ Kas
kine,” he said, “ try it for your wife.”
I had see.i Kaskine advertised, but had
no more faith in it than I had in saw
dust, for such a case as hers. Mrs.
Hall had no higher opinion, yet on the
strength of my friend’s recommenda
tion I got a bottle and began its use
as directed.
Now recall what I have already said
as to her then condition, and then read
what follows: Under the Kaskine
treatment all tfie dyspeptic symptoms
showed instant improvement, and the
daily fever grew less and soon ceased
altogether. Side by side these diseases
vanished, as side by side they had tort
ured their victim for ten years—the
dyspepsia alone having, as I have said,
existed for twenty years. Her appetite
improved from week to week until she
could eat and digest the average food
that any well person takes, without any
suffering or inconvenience. With re
newed assimilation of food came, of
course, a steady increase in flesh, until
she now looks like her original self.
She still takes Kaskine occasionally,
but with no real need of it, for she is
well. I consider this result a scientific
miracle, and the “ New Quinine •’ is en
titled to the credit of it, for from the
time she began with Kaskine she used
no other medicine whatever.
If you think a recital of these facts
calculated to do good you are welcome
to make them public.
(Rev.) JAS. L. HALL,
Chaplain Albany, N. Y., Penitentiary.
P. S.—Sometimes letters of this kind
are published without authority, and in
case any one is inclined to question
the genuineness of the above statement
I will cheerfully reply to any commu
nications addressedto me at the Peni
tentiary. Jas. L. Hall.
i Other letters of a similar character
from prominent individuals, which
stamp Kaskine as a remedy of un
doubted merit, will be sent on appli
cation. Price $i.oo, or six bottles,
$5.00. Sold by Druggists, or sent by
mail on receipt of price.
| The Kaskine Company, 54 Warren
St., New York, and 35 Farringdon
Road, London. 1
i
FEMALE SEMINARY,
ATUm, CE0K6H.
FACULTY:
W ‘ B - SEALS, A. ML, Pesident,
Professor of Natural and Moral
_ 9 E P- c - LOONEY, A M..
Chair of Mathematics and Astronomy.
Mbs. C. D. CRAWLEY, M. A.,
Chair of English Literature.
Mlle. VICTORIA KONTZ,
Chair of Ancient and Modem Languages.
Mrs L. H. SEALS,
Principal of Preparatory Department,
Prop. W. F. SEALS,
Director of Music. Voice Culture.
Madam VON DER HOYA SCHULTZE,
Piaro and Organ.
Prof. W. F. CLARK,
Violin and Comet.
Prop. Wm. LYCETTE,
Art Department.
Prof. A. C. BRISCOE,
Stenography.
Miss JENNIE RUSHING,
Telegraphy.
FOREMAN OF “SUNNY SOUTH” OFFICE,
Teacher of Type Setting.
Miss LILY MAY DANFORTH,
Calligraphy.
Mrs. W. F. SEALS,
Supt. Boarding Department.
Mrs. GEO. C. LOONEY,
Matron
THE FALL TERM WILL BKOIN on 1st MONDAY Df
SEPTEMBER 1SS7.
The departments are well nigh full, and an early
application is Important to secure a goo- place for
the next term.
Oar object Is to meet, as far as practicable, a long-
felt want In tbe Sontb, viz: a thorongb literary and
practical business education for females.
Every member of onr faculty Is an experienced ed
ucator. AU are acknowledged to stand abreast wltn
tbe best teacbers of tbe State, In their respective
departments, wnue some enjoy even a national rep
utation.
Anyone haying girls to educate Is respectfully re
ferred to tne State at large lor character, scholar
ship and management.
NEW FEATURES.
With a view to making onr course of study emi-
specia! departments. A grad
ate of this school takes along with her a profession
adapted to her aex, and which fits her to enter AT
once upon an active business life. In ao other
school in the South will she find these advantages.
ATLANTA AS A LOCATION.
Of all points in the Sonth, not one combines so
many of the essentials for a school of the ohaiacter
proposed, as Atlanta.
It is 1160 feet above sea level.
It is blest with pure water and good air.
It is healthy.
It has never beeD visited by an epidemic sf any
kind.
It is ont of the range of storms and cyclones.
It is the capital of the State, where pupils ean see
and hear all the celebrities of the day.
It is a progressive city, where everything new in
science and art is sure to come.
It is a city of ohnrches, and is without a peer in
the observance of the Sabbath.
Its people are cultivated and refined, and Its mo
rality is phenomenal.
It is the music center of the Sonth, and its very air
is ladened with music.
It is convenient, being a railroad center.
GENERAL INFORMATION.
This school is not denominational. Boarding pu
pils will attend the chnroh specified by their parents.
The number of pupils will be limited to sixty, and
in no event will more than that number be received
Tuition must be paid monthly in advance, and no
deduction will be made except in cases of siokneee
irotracted beyond twe weeks. An experienced hosse-
teeper will take charge of the boarding department,
and a skillful physician will look after the health of
the pupils.
The daily sessions will be six horns, beginning in
the morning at eight o’clock, and dismissing at 4:30
in the afternoon, with two honrs’ intermission at
noon and two recesses. We do not like the one ses
sion plan, as now taught in onr popular schools.
The government of the school will be humane, bat
firm.
UNIFORM.
In order to prevent extravagance, a uniform to be
i the pupils to chnrch or on the street has
[opted, which will be made known to any one
on application.
Send for a catalogue to
W. B SEALS. President.
BEAST!
Mexican
Mustang
Liniment
CURES
Sciatica,
Scratches,
Contracted
Lumbago,
Sprains,
Muscles,
Rheumatism,
Strains,
Eruptions,
Burns,
Stitches,
Hoof Ail,
Scalds,
Stiff Joints,
Screw
Stings,
Backache,
Worms,
Bites.
Galls,
Swinney,
Bruises,
Sores,
Saddle Gall*,
Bunions,
Spavin
Files.
Corns,
Cracks.
THIS GOOD OLD STAND-BY
accomplishes for everybody exactly what Is claimed
for it. One of the reasons for the great popularity of
the Mustang Liniment is found In its universal
applicability* Everybody needs such a medicine.
The Lumberman needs it in case of accident.
The Housewife needs it for generalfamlly use.
The Cannier needs it for his teams and his men.
The Mechanic needs it always on his worlr
bench.
The Miller needs It in case of emergency.
T h e PI o neer needs it—can’t get along wlthoat It.
The Farmer needs it in his house, his stable^
and his stock yard.
The Steamboat man or tbe Boa man need!
It In liberal supply afloat and ashore.
The Horse-fancier needs it—It Is bis best
friend and safest reliance.
The Stock-grower needs it—It will save him
thousands of dollars and a world of trouble.
The Railroad man needs it and will need it sa
long as his life is a round of accidents and dangers.
Tbe Backwoodsman needs it. There is noth*
Ing like it as an antidote for the dangers to Uftt
limb and comfort which surround the pioneer.
The Merchant needs it about his store <*monff
his employees. Accidents will happen, and when
these come the Mustang Liniment is wanted at once.
Keep a Bottle in the House* 'Tis the best of
economy.
Keep a Bottle In the Factory* Its immediate
Use In case of accident saves pain and loss of wage*.
Keep a Bottle Always in the Stable for
when wanted.
7-lyr
HAIR GOODS
BY MAIL
To anv Part of the.U.'S.
Send for Illustrated Cir
cular of Latest Styles
JOHN MEDINA,
463 Washington Street,
BOSTON, MASS.
STOPPED FREE
Marvelous success.
. Insane Persons Restored
I Dr.KLINE'S GREAT
_ „„ 'Nerve Restorer
■ for «//BRAIN St Nrrvs Dis RASES. Only sure
cure far Nerve Affeetwns. Fils, Epilepsy, etc.
I Infallible if tticcn as directed. Ns Fits after
W first asy's use. Treatise and >j trial bottle free to
1 Fit patients, tliey paying express charges on box when
I received. Send names. P. O. and express address of
J afflicted to DR.KLINlt.oti Arch St-.Philadelpbia.Pa.
e Druggists. B Ely AXE OF IMITATING FRAUDS.
(616-lyr)
I CURE FITS!
When I uy cure 1 do not mean merely to stop them tor
% time and then have them return again. 1 mean a nfr
I have made the diaeane of FITS, 01-
others have failed la no reason for not bow reeatvtac a
ear*. Send at ones far a treatise and a Free Bottle of my
InftJWblo remedy. Give Express and Post Office. It oHii fffi
Bochin* for a trial, and I will care you.
AiUrwa bx. a «. ROOT, in FHM