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THE StfNNY SOUTH* ATLANTA, GEORGIA, DECEMBER 3,1892.
U/o/r\ai/s • ^ii^do/iy
EDITORIAL CHAT.
Hart Wilson’s talk to girls and
their mothers abounds in common
sense. Let them not fail to study and
profit by her wise and exalted teach- j
mgs.
***
Ode Household will no doubt wel
come “De Rowen.” She is a Northern
girl, and patriotically declares against
sectional prejudices, a sentiment
which meets our hearty approval.
But we feel called upon to disabuse
her mind of a singular impression
that she 6ecms to have .is to Southern
journalists. Does she judge of us and
our pursuits by what she sees of
Xorthern newspaper men ? To her
question, Why the editor does not
take off the whiskers of Talmadge,
the reply is easy: The editor is not a
barber.
***
Musa Dunn seldom fails to see and
seize intellectual weapons when they
come in her reach, but we can now
show her to bs guilty of a sad over
sight. What a bright stroke it would
bave been if where she uses the phrase
“snusquito-bitten ” she had said “rnus-
quito-biled.” Her admission that
she murdered the snake for lick
ing out its tongue has at least the
merit of honesty; for according to
current belief if (here 13 anything
that will excite a woman to the point
of frenzy it is a display by any crea
ture of an uncommonly facile use of
the tongue. That is a field in which
the sex tolerates no rivalry.
I The fashion of girls receiving young
men alone and remaining in a closed
parlor, through a whole even
ing, and even after the fami-
j ly retire, is certainly bad manners
| and bad taste. Jt is to be strongly
l condemned.
Somebody says that watched virtue
1 is not worth the sentinel. That is a
mistake. It sounds smart just because
WE ADVISE YOU GIRLS,
To Read the Warning Words of Sen
sible May Wilson.
IncompHar.ce with Wren Heath
Gregorie’s request I shall indulge in a
very plain talk to girls and their
mothers.
The welfare of our girls must be “an
all-absorbing topic” to every earnest
mother.
It seems to me that mothers are very
greatly to blame in most cases of
wrong doing on the part of girls. Xo
girl ought to be left in ignorance of
the dangers that surround her. These
dangers are peculiar in their nature.
They arc like dark pits surrounded by
sweetest flowers, like steep precipices
bordered with vines hanging with
tempting fruit. Temptation is not
teuipiation if the beauty is torn from
it. it is a mother’s duty to pull aside
the vines and show the bare, naked
steep; to tear the flowers away and
exoose the dark pit.
it is a mother’s duty to talk plainly
to her daughter, for if the girl is old
enough to receive attention from men
she is old enough to know what these
attentions shouid be. Old enough to
lay aside the ignorauee that was a
shield to her childhood and assume
the knowledge that will make her
“wise as a serpent and harmless as a
dove.” And her mother must be her
teacher and guide.
title must be able to detect the first
gigu of disrespect on the part of others
and she must Know that true love has
for its foundation a great, reverential,
ever lasting respect.
She must know that the man who
loves her would be as careful as her
mother that even an evil thought
come not in her presence.
If she is taugfifc these things she
will know the ring of the true coin.
But there are motherless girls.
There are hundreds of girls who arc
orphans so far as this leaching goes.
Then read what I eliail say
to you. 1 shall speak plainly, for the
matter is important and I am, in ear
nest.
Yoa are young, and you want to get
a good time. Your idea of a good
■time is one real sweetheart and a few
nice second best ones. A lot of pret
ty dresses and plenty of places to go
to. Xow isn't that so?
If it seems a little bard, forgive me.
Of course each case is a little different
but you will admit that you like these
things.
Well, suppose you have the one real
sweethejut. This is the way to treat
him.
Unless he tells you he loves you,
never let him know you care for him
»r. ali. If he does love you, and if he’s
an honesi man, he will tell you all
about it. Then you can just tell him
the simple honest truth. But remem
ber it is not best to allow your sweet
heart too many privileges and your
peopleoughfctoknowium vary well.
whoever said it», knew how to use
words well, but it is false all through.
We are all weak and need to be shield
ed and cared for lest we fall in sins of
some sort. A girls virtue is her one
priceless treasure and she wantsto keep
it white as snow. There must not be
one stain upon it. The man who loves
her, treasures it even as she herself
does.
It is not always the wild and wick
ed girl who steps down into sin, but
it is always a tempted girl.
Then it is well to keep out of the
way of temptation. Once a little girl
said: “Such an idea! What do you
take us for! Why I wouldn’t go with
a young man like that. I knew all the
men with whom I keep company.”
Of course she thought so, and of
course she was mistaken.
Xow I don’t want to tell you that
young men are going about like roar
ing lions seeking whom they may
destroy, but I do know they are very
human, very weak and very easily led
astray.
Xow you are shocked again. Has
your mother never told you these
things? You should never appear be
fore any man with bare neck and
arms, or wearing gowns that are so
thin as to expose any part of your per
son. And your manner should be
such as to keep the reserve that ought
to surround you inviolate. If you
want every thought of you to be a
pure thought, you must- see to it that
there is nothing in your appearance
or manner to lead to any other kind.
Sometimes a girl’s manner invites
familiarity. She does not mean it to,
but then it does, and “familiarity
breeds contempt.” She only means to
be jolly, a bit daring, and a wee bit
fast. She has only a vague idea of the
danger that she believes to be very far
away from every good girl, and she
does not know that her course is lead
ing up to it. And so this is the danger
to young men. The girl’s ignorance
is a snare to both. For very few men,
perhaps none at all, set about deliber
ately to rob a girl of her greatest
treasure, sensational novels to the con
trary notwithstanding. And now a
word about these novels. I wish I had
them all in a heap before me. I’d lay
aside my pen, lock the sewing ma
chine and devote the rest of my life to
burning them! That’s exactly what
I do with every one I lay my hands
on. Oh, the harm they do! Why isn’t
there a law to lock the writers of them
up and compel them to spend their
lives alone with their evil thoughts?
Talk about whisky—it’s bad, it’s
awful, but in comparison with foul lit
erature it is like the limpid water
from the mountain spring! And I
hate liquor, its manufacture and the
traffic of it.
I have a friend who is a popular
Western writer. She is known and
admired by thousands of readers who
enjoy her bright magazine articles
and charming stories. But her first
book was a mistake. In it she
stands on the pinnacle of virtue
and points out to her readers all man
ner of vice. Her women are either
naturally prone to evil, or weakly fail
into it. Her men are indeed roaring
lions. The book is foul and danger
ous. There arc thousands like it and
when I read one of them and then
watch it change into a heap of harm
less ashes I want to exclaim: “Oh,
Virtue, what sins are committed in
thy name!”
Girls don’t read them. I know there
is a morbid curiosity that longs to be
satisfied, but this is not the right way.
If there is a question you want an
swered, go to your mother or your
father, or to a sensible, trustworthy
friend. Failing in any of these try to
be content, and when you are doubt
ful choose the side on which you feel
safest.
I cannot close this paper without a
protest against the fashion I have
noticed among young people of “lock
ing arms.” It is wrong for a man to
offer any other way of supporting
you than by offering you his left arm,
unless that is powerless then he may
offer you the right. You simply lay
your haud on it. That a girl should
allow a man to take her arm, pressing
his own against her side and holding
her haud in his, is preposterous!. It
is worse than waltzing. Think of it a
moment.
Xearly all great evils come by degres.
If these little things did not pave the
way to destruction, none would be
destroyed.
Of course I need not warn girls
against kissing young men. Surely
their innate sense of delicacy Is suffi
cient, and need I warn them against
allowing a delicately veiled bit of
scandal to creep into their conversa
tion?
To be frank and open, true and pure,
noble and womanly. Value all things
that are good and your holy woman
hood above everything. Respect
yourself, make every glance from your
eye, every word from your lips, and
every action of your body bear testi
mony to the spotless woman’s soul
within.
Rid yourself of the false modesty
that hides danger as a covering of
flowers may bide an open pit-fall, and
be a woman wise and wary, walking
fearless anil firmly far from the way
of temptation. You will not only
have t-aved your own soul, but you
will have guided many others from
the brink of ruin. And you need not
be a “Frude.” You may still be a
bright, happy, natural girl—the very
sweetest thing this side of the pearly
gates!
Mary Wilson.
THE UNEXPECTED HAPPENS
Truly it is the unexpected that happens.
Only a few weeks atco we were on Atslena
Otie. that
Old beloved lc*l®.
Where sea-billows roll and bright sunbeams
nolle,
where the moan sheds her light with lustre on
to d
And nature speaks peace to the storm-troubled
soul. 1 ’
Since then we are away from the “flowery
land” anu at lho Gate Clt».
'the most delightful ‘•unexpected” happened,
when W0 raw earnest Willie, resting ia h ( s
Safiny South chair at tha First Dapiist Church,
VIVACIOUS MUSA DUNN’S
Medley of
Amusing Talk for the
Household.
Pandora, we all mourn with you
over the death of our winsome Corn
flower. I never knew her outside of
the Household, but she was one of my
dearest, always cheerful, bright and
„„ . ^ . . . j womanly, and my heart will ever
The harvest is past, the summer is j treasure the beautiful lessons she
ended, and lam not particularly sorry | taught me. Listen to the lines re-
of it, either, for the lamps are trimmed j pealed by Fraucis E. Willard over the
and polished, a dozen new books waitj lifeless form of her mother*
for winter reading,1 he mosquito plumes j
his wing for transmigration, and 1 i
have a delicious hope that frost will 1
be along directly and nip the life cut j
of the potted plants I’ve toiled over all!
summer. I
I didn’t want the [things in the first j “Wren Heath Gregorie, I am glad to
place;! forgot their names as fast as | welcome you back frein the Lorder
written, but Will purchased some of j land, and now you must not make
them for me, a mistaken “friend donat-j y° ur letters so few and far between—
ed the others, and as I’d read seme-! 1,or you, either, Muda Hetnur.
where that flowers jjn the home indi-j Dear Earnest Willie,has you]
rated culture and refinement, 1 lit
into .these with ail my might, and
thought I’d accomplish wonders. Of
course I love flowers—I just fairly
“Weil done of God, to halve the Jot,
And give her ail the sweetness;
To me the empty room feud cut,
To liei-ihe Heaven’s corn pit teat ss.”
our aman
uensis “struck” on you?
I hope lit tie Rosalie L. will cheer
herself, and please us ali, by another
dainty little Jet ter.
Happy Mother, you can get Tal-
mage’s “Life of Christ” all the way
from two and a haif to five dollars. I
gave three and a half for the nicely
bound copy I presented some one last
Christmas, and regretted it in less
than a week, for the great Webster’s
Our Household and Letter Box pe*! of the house, up and down
and deservingly so. For surely we i off and on the porch ; dilij
shouid give something for the “light
divine” that his presence sheds among
us. For the benefit of those House
hold friends, who have not the privi
lege of knowing Earnest W’illie per
sonally, we must say that he is the
most cheerful and enthusiastic person
we ever met.
Surely the most sceptical would need
no stronger proof of the reality of Hie
religion of Jesus Christ—of its power
to lift us triumphantly above the most
adverse circumstances, the sorest dis
appointments this life can hold, than
is given in Earnest Willie’s daily
life.
He can testify to ihe fulfilment of
this promise: “Thou wilt keep him
in perfect peace whose mind is staid
on thee.” «
Another surprise was, a pleasant
visit, with Earnest Willie, to the old
home of t he Sunny South. We t here
met Col. Seals and Anut Judy. Since
meeting with its former editor, we un
derstand why the old Sunny South
towered “head and shoulders” above
ail other literary and family papers.
For, in him, we have the true type of
the grand old southern gentleman.
The old picture at the head of the
Letter Box is not a very true likeness
of Aunt Judy.
She is young enough to have a living
and a very lovable young mother.
The artist who “took” that photo of
Aunt Judy must have had a spite at
her. For what else could have caused
him to trim the roundness off her
cheeks and hide the soft light in her
eyes with those ugly “specks?”
We have long admired and loved
Mother Hubbard a far off. But, since
hearing Earnest Willie’s enthusiastic
praise of her many virtues, we feel
that to know her personally would
sweeteu the “goblet of life” wonder
fully.
While at the old Sunny South home,
we heard a conversation between Col.
Seals and Earnest Willie on a subject
which we believe every member of the
Household and Letter Box feels a per
sonal interest in.
For our long established repu
tation as a “hightoned” intellectual
family is involved in Earnest Willie’s
book.
Xow, let me assure eacli one that
they need have no fear of failure.
Rather its pure light will shed an ad
ded glory around our dear family cir
cle.
“It is,” (as Col. Seals expresses it)
“a rare collection of bright and sweet
flowers, gathered into a fair bouquet.”
It wilt contain counsel for the
young; wit for the fun loving; com
fort for the disconsolate; sentiment
for the lover; and now and then, if
we listen closely to those “Echoes
from a Reeluse,” we shall hear sweet
voices that speak from the “holy of
holies” of that inner life of his that is
“hid with Christ iu God.”
Burton.
idolize them—growing in the fields,
the forests, on the mountain side, in
the crevice of a rock, along the banks
of a stream, in a garden if you please,
or even out in the yard, but when it
comes to packing earth into pots, mix
ing soil, sand, leaf mold and worms, t 0
watering, watching,waiting for months | Unabridged he gave me was not haif
and months, I beg to be let out of the | a » interesting, though I monied it
business altogether. I have labored, worse, but it wasn’t polite of him to
early and late with these, however, j intimate such a thing,
i daily have I wagged them in and out j Martha Patience, you write like a
own the stairs, j fi fory bock, and if I had tLe depth of
diligently have j thought to draw from that, you have,
I dug about and aired the roots; faith-; I’d never look at crazy work (I never
fully have I flooded them with the j d°> anyway), and I wouldn’t caii for
drippings from the ice chest every! “chow-chow” like this,
evening.carefully have I exposed them j Verder—little mountain violet—I
to the burning rays of tne sun every ! think of you often; so aoes the ram
morning; patiently have I humored ! bier away up in yankee-laud—prem-
their tendency to slioot out in every j ised me he would,
direction, hopefully and prayerfully j C. Weed, did you ever find Zirline?
have 1 aided and abetted their very j Xever mind, we’ll both find you at the
evident inclinations to grow as tall as j World’s Fair. Together we mean to
a Sbang Hai rooster, yet not a bud has j “take the bine ribbon” at that institu-
encouraged me, not a bloom has repaid j tion, and that’s how you may know us
me, not a whiff of perfume has reward- j —how shall we know you?
ed me, and now I make bold to say I i Dear little, poor little, crashed little
shall rejoice when the time comes for j Sister Hubbard,haven’t you recovered
them to fly away and be at rest, for j sufficiently from the “long sobbing
then I shall be at rest, too—without j sigh” the printers caused you to sug-
llyingaway. ge.-t as a bauge, a date, and a place of
Lell says there are only two mosqui- i meeting for the Household members
tos left in her room—a big and a little j at the big fair? And then put the
one, “before and after taking,” a bass j vote to the band, and let’s see how
and a tenor, one with a large full
voice, the other with a stilt small
squeak, and when a pimple appeared
on the upper bridge of her highly
classic nose, she seized on to some
thing, and yanked out what she
said was the mosquito’s sting, left
in the wound, but it looked strangely
like an eye-lash to me. i wanted
very much to be able to tell “Jtalie”
how to circumvent the pests last sum
mer, for I was in the thickest of the
battle then, myself—the whole house
odoriferous with kerosene and penny
royal—but all I could think of was
dynamite, and I was afraid to advise
her to use that. 1 like “Jtalie,” and I
don’t want her dynamited or mosqui
to-bitten, either.
“Zee,” did you ever find the nests
the hens made such a cackle over—do
you believe they had any nests? May
be’twas snakes! Love to cook? O,
my fellow-citizens, the one thing on
earth I dislike to do is to cook! I’d
plow if 1 could, I’d hoe, if I must, I’d
plant, sow or reap, if it was my busi
ness. I’d do anything and everything
a man must do—especially stand
around with my hands in iny pockets!
and look at the circus pictures— but j
cook! 1 pray thee have me excused!;
many will be there.
Count me in for one, dead or alive—
in fact more if dead Ilian alive, for
1 11 stand a better chance of getting
therein the spirit. Xow, don’t you
scold me, Mary Wilson, I’m not irrev
erent, I’m in good solid earnest. You
dont want me to disappear, as did
the “Vanished Haud”—I know you
don’t, for
“It rained all day long Monday,
AnU soaked thn week cl* ar through,
And now the clvitds just hang about
W lth nothing else to do.”
and I am almost tempted to afflict
you with another budget in spile of
your long silence, but will “bide a
w.ee,” because I know when you love
me you will “tell me so.”
Ira Jones, I was really, truly glad
to see you in the household once more.
You know we w'ondered what had be
come of you—did you wonder any
about us? Of course you have friends
all over the Southland—are’nt. you
something of a pessiini.-t! Suppose
yon try the other extreme awhile—
love everybody, trust everything,
take it for granted the world worships
you, and be happy. I love bushels and
bushels of people, and if they don’t
When I get rich—which I mean to do j love me they “play like” they do, and
when I come into my next stage of jit doesn’t hurt me a speck-does it,
Billy Cucumber—to believe they are
at least as earnest, honest, i.nd sin
cere as
Waxahachie, Texas.
Musa Dunn.
existence, and get a better start—I am
going to have my nuaJs prepared a
thousand miles from home, on the co
operative plan or as Edward Bellamy
saw in “Looking Backward,” and or
der them sent up by telephone, with
plenty of hard boiled egg and pepper,
grass for the canary birds. 1 have hut
seventeen green and gold-clad birds
[bTone'fbat S?» JKfS ! **•—X «A. th.
see the world, and I meant to switch j Eleventh Hour,” ends with this num-
A New Story From Mary E. Bryan!
Objects to the Whiskers.
Dear Householders:—Allow me to
introduce myself to you a Xorthern
girl, the daughter of a Union soldier.
You may object to forming my ac
quaintance, but as t lie war is over all
prejudice should be laid aside.
1 have been an .interested reader of
the Sunny South lor some .time, and
like it very much.
Marion Durham, your ideas on letter
writing are good. I heartily agree
with you.
Dorothy Dix, let us hear from you
again. I am interested in you.
Mr. Editor, may I ask you why you
do not take the whiskers off of Talr
mage?
If my first letter does not land in
the waste basket, I will write to you
again—descriptive of northern life.
Dear Cousins, will you receive me in
the family?
|“Da Bowen.”
the fur off of her back fer it, too, but
shewent away iii some haste and board
ed at the barn for a montb.Topsy’s got
sense; she knew 1 wouldn’t go about
that barn, because I saw a big chicken
snake there in the spring, and what
ever eise I may have inherited from
Mother Eve, I cultivate no familiari
ty with serpents. I never killed but
one in my life, and 1 did that quite
accidentally. He was very small, very
young, very green, but he licked out j BLACK MI5*E.”
his saucy tongue at me, and I just j
thought I’d check his impudence with
a far off end of a long fishing pole,
whereupon he fell over with a counte
nance mutilated beyond all recogni
tion, and he couldu’t have been more
astonished than I was myself.
“Xight Blooming Cereus,” did you
occupy the red seat at the Dallas fair
this year, and did you ferret out Pats
and the baby? I didnt contribute my
valuable presence at all, and I hear
the fair wasn’t near as attractive as
usual.
“Florida Girl,” let me guess, “Daisy”
is going to be the heroine of your
promised story, though I love “Lil”
the best; maybe because I think her a
wee bit like me—saving her sweet
ness, her loveliness, and her indul
gent old papa’s money-bags, alas!
Lucile, give us another bright little
letter, and Marie Montague, can’t we
conjole yon into the Household again?
ber, but the readers of The Sunny
South will be gratified to know (bat
we expect to begin a new and thrill
ing serial from the pen of the favor
ite Southern author ia our issue of
December 10th. The very taking
title ig “THE MYSTERY OF THE
We trust that the
friends of The Sunny South every
where will make known to their
neighbors who may not see the paper
the fact that Mrs. Bryan’s writings
may be found in its columns.
How“3kp©rtune
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