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THE SUNNY SOUTH, ATLANTA, GEORGIA, DECEMBER S, 1893.
—PUBLISHED BY—
THE SUNNY SOOTH PUB. CO
JLARK HOWELL, * * * ***
0. C. NICHOLS, - -
JAB. R. HOLLIDAY,
- President.
• Business Manager
• Sec. & Txeas.
HENRY CLAY FAIRS AN, Editor.
Business Office Room’s 11 & 12
Constitution Building.
TERMS:
One Tear ..
Biz Months.
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Address all letters and make all bilis pay
able THE SUNNY SOUTH,
ATLANTA, GA.
ABOUT DIALECT.
Fob some time past there has been
manifested among some publishers a
feeling of opposition to “dialect”
writing, and we rejoice to see that
James Whitcomb Riley, the “lioosier”
po et, has taken up the cudgels in de
fence of the too much abused
guage of the common folk.
lan-
Te use dialect successfully is simp
ly to allow the character to speak for
himself in his own way. To eschew
it would be nothing less than forcing
all characters, men, women and chil
dren to speak and write in the most
polished style that the author could
supply. It would be to take the
realism out of literature; for no class
of society is so polished as to be en
tirely exempt from the use of unclas-
sical language. A book in which ev
ery character used good English would
be a dreary production even to the
best educated people. Its unnatural
ness would destroy its usefulness, aud
prevent it from acquiring popularity.
If it were full of original thought on
some great public question it would
be endured by scholars and thinkers,
but it could/iever find its way to the
popular heart.
*
* *
Those who fight against the use of
the language of the mass of the people
seem to take a very narrow view of
the mission of the poem and the story
Do they see nothing in them but a
mere struggle for money and fame on
the part of the author, and wealth on
the part of the publisher? Was Dick
ens a mere entertainer of the idle
hours of the people? No, through the
pages of his novels was spoken the
message of a great philanthropy. Has
Hugo in Lest Miserables merely ex
cited the horror and harrowed up the
feelings of mankind? Dickens might
easily have condensed into a half
column article all the essential facts
about the wretched lives of London’s
poor,or England’s humble flsherfolk.
Hugo in the same space could have
specified the most cruel features
of the French criminal code. But
taught in that manner the lesson
would have had little effect upon the
public mind. However, when the
English master takes his reader with
him into the old boat, the home of th e
Peggottys—and shows us their patient
but miserable lives by allowing them
to speak and act in our presence in
their every-ilay dress; and when Hugo
conducts us into Paris’s haunts of vice
and crime anil mikes the monsters of
the lower regions of society to stand
before us in their own rags and talk
in their own tongues; an appeal is
made to our pity and righteous indig
nation which cannot be shaken off,
and which results in crusades against
Whitechapel districts, and barbarous
oritninal codes, and men begin to ask
each other seriously if a Christian de
mocracy is not among the possibili
ties.
***
Suppose that Fielding had substi
tuted his own superior style for Squire
Western’s dialect, how long would
immortal Torn Jones have lived? If
we wis’i to sseji j o trait of an English
country Squire of Fielding’s day,
where shall we look for him?
Certainly not in historioal writings.
Is he in the art galleries?
In
real
np
and
in
His face may be there, and his dress.
But how about his conversation and
his ways and his manners ? Fiction
alone supplies our want. Yet Squire
Western is no part of the fiction,
a representative sense he Is a
character put in to properly round
the proportions of the romance,
also doubtless to leave on record
the most eaduring form a speaking
portraiture of a class of people.
***
“Doo’ bye Papa,” says baby. “I
ain’ doin’ wun ’way t’day. Is I ain
doin’ wun ’way t’day ? * * Oh
Papa, Papa 1I won’ be ba* boy t’day
Will I won’ be ba’ boy t’day ?” This,
as nearly as it can be reproduced, is
what the child prattles as he follows his
departing sire to the gate. But it is
altogether too common to please the
delicate ears of the over-classioal. If
they were reporting the incident they
would doubtless make the infant say
“Farewell Father. I promise that
will not abscond during your absence.
Nor will I be guilty of aught that is
evil. My conduct shall be in all things
circumspect and upright.”
It is in The Forum for Decern
her that James Whitcomb Reilly
discusses the subject of dialect in
literature, and his article is a very
timely one and well worth perusal
“We have no occasion,” he says, to
urge the “acceptance of so-called dia
lect, for dialect, is in literature, and
has been there since the beginning of
all written thought and utterance.
* * It is not really a ques
tion of literature's position toward
dialect that we are called upon to con
sider, but rather how much of litera
ture’s valuable time shall be taken up
by this dialectic country cousin. This
question literature her gracious self
most amiably answers by hugging to
her breast voluminous tomes, from
Chncer on to Dickens, from Dickens
on to Joel Chandler Harris. And this
affectionaee spirit on the part of liter
ature in the main,we all most feelingly
endorse.
“Briefly summed,” continues the
accomplished master of the style he is
defending, "it would appear that dia
lect means something more than mere
rude form of speech and action—that
it must in some, righteous and sub
stantial way convey to us a positive
force of soul, truth, dignity, beauty
grace, purity and sweetness that may
even touch us to the tenderness of
tears. Yes, dialect as certainly does
all this as that speech and act refined
may do it, and for the same reason: it
is simply, purely natural and human
Theodore Child, the traveler and
accomplished writer, died recently in
Persia, where he had gone in the ser
vice of Harper’s Weekly. He was ac
companied by Edwin L. Weeks, an ar
tist, who was to have illustrated the
sketches Mr. Child had engaged to
send to the magazine. The travelers
exposed themselves to the cholera
which Mr. Weeks was fortunate
enough to escape. His companion
was seized with the distemper but re
covered from it, and shortly after per
ished from an attack of typhoid fe
ver.
The new Duke of Marlborough
though a thoroughbred seems to be
very illbred. While the doctors were
holding a post-mortem over his
father’s body he was riding about
Blenheim eastle in yellow top boots.
And his step-mother, the “American
duchess,” nee widow Hamerly, of New
York, is on bad terms with him, and in
trouble about her future standing
among the titled of England. It is re
ported that Victoria will raise the
young Duke’s mother—the Marchion
ess of Blandford, to the rank of Duch
ess. This would have the unpleasant
effect of lowering in a very marked
degree the standing of the American
Duchess at the English court.
A considerable lake was reoently
pumped dry in Michigan, disclosing,
to the deiight and surprise of the
owners, an iron mine of great’ value.
One of the curious incidents of taking
out the water was the putting of a
live goose in the lake near the end of
the suction pipe. The pump drew the
bird in, and she made the journey to
tb« discharging end without injury.
1 Kei Story From Mary E. Bryan!
Mrs. Mary E. Bryan’s story “At the
Eleventh Hour,” ends with this num
ber, but the readers of Thb Sunny
South will be gratified to know that
we expeet to begin a new and thrill
ing serial from the pen of this favor
ite Southern author in our issue of
December 10th. The very taking
title is “THE MYSTERY OF THE
BLACK MINE.” 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.
THE MAGAZINES
The announcement that Fetter’s
Southern Magazine for Deoember,
which is the Holiday Number, would
excel the past numbers of this sur
prisingly popular publication, was re
ceived somewhat incredulously by the
many readers of this magazine, as
they, and in fact the whole reading
public, had looked upon any further
advancement as impossible, yet
Messrs. Fetter & Schober, the pub
lishers, in their advance notices an
nounce many things of importance
and interest to the patrons of the pub
lication.
In appearance the Holiday Number
is extremely beautiful, and most ap
propriate. The cover pages in white
and gold, with the evergreen holly
bough, typical of the glad season of
•Peace on Earth, Good Will Toward
Men.”
The frontispiece illustrating the
beautiful sad poem, “December,” by
that rising young poet, W. H. Field, is
from an original drawing by W. Ben-
neviile Rhodes, the artist whose career
since his return from Paris has been
watched with great interest by the
art-loving world.
* v *
The complete novel m Lippincott’s
Magazine lor December, “Pearce Aui-
erson’s Will,” is by Colonel Richard
Malcolm Johnston, and will be admit
ted to be one of the finest productions.
It has perhaps less than his usual
humor (though Mr. Flint’s dealing
his “jaws,” on page 726, is unsurpass
ed), but it is a solid and conscientious
piece of work, and a most life-like
story of middle Georgia in the old
ealling for. The poems of Father
Byan, Hawthorne’s Scarlet Letter,
Hugo’s Les Miserables, Henty’s popu
lar books for boys and girls, Gil Bias,
Tom Jones, Biohard Grant White’s
Shakespeare, Napoleon’s Conversa
tions, and opinions, andtheJDecamerou
are a few of the always interesting
titles seleoted at random from the cat
alogue.
Wb have received the prospectus
of a new magazine to be published at
Philadelphia. Its name is “Blue and
Gray,” and the style of the publishers
is “The Patriotic Publishing Co.” We
cheerfully lend our oountenance to ah
enterprise with so promising a name,
and such country-loving purposes.
Its advanoe notice appears on our
Blue and Gray page.
LITTLE ARTHUR’S HI9TORY OF
ROME.
No one knows better than Mr. Hez-
ekiah Butterworth what appeals to
the young. Probably a million read
ers have taken delight in his Zig-zag
journeys, but this immense circle of
boys and girls always find in Mr. But-
terworth’s writing a true and lofty
tone, helps to right living and think
ing and wise instructions as well as
bright entertainment.
With this well deserved reputation
as a leader of the young, Mr. Butter-
worth offers “Little Arthur’s History
of Rome.” For him the ancient folk
tales of Rome live again. He takes
his little friend Arthur by the hand,
and as he leads him gently and en
couragingly under the purple skies ot
the Campagna he relates the quaint
^bat his doctor once told him that it
was not good for snoh a man as he to
live alone, as his solitary meals were
apt to be marred by thinking too muoh
on deep subjects, and advised him to
stay for a while in some boarding
house, where the dinner table talk
would be conducted by nice, cheery,
brainless folk.He went but did not stay
long. It came to bis ears that the
pleasant lady whose seat was next to
him at the table was a sad disappoint
ment. A friend asked her how she
liked the boarding-honse; could she
recommend it? “Ob, yes, I think
I can,” she replied; “but there
is a Mr. Spencer who things that be
knows about science and philosophy. I
have to correct him every night!” He
lives qnietly among his books in an
old-fashioned house in Regent’s Park,
but dines out. often, generally at the
Athenaeh Club, and occasionally vis
its a place of amusement. Comic op
era is his delight. He finds in it an
offset to his lucubrations npon the
data of ethics. For he is still a veri
table glutton for work, and is at times
obliged to suspend all mental applica
tion for weeks, being completely pros
trated by nervous collapse. No mat
ter how fine the day, he carries an um
brella. He also carries about a couple
of little plugs in his Docket, and when
ever conversation around him becomes
annoying he takes them out and puts
them in his ears, and thus becomes
deaf to the chatter about him. He
was the lifelong friend of George
Eliot, and has known all the celebri
ties of the day; but. like Carlyle he
has persistently declined all academic
or other honors, and he is the bete
noire of the autograph collector,
whose excuse for existence he does
not see. Though univeasally conced
ed to be the greatest thinker in the
world, he is not widely read as he pays
but little attention to his literary
style and frequently writes in an in
comprehensible vein. So that, though
his books have been translated into
Polish, Greek, Chinese, and other
uncongenial tongues, they do
not cover the cost of publica
tion, to say nothing of the
and beautiful legends which did duty
as history for the Romans themselves, I P r °fit supposed to be left for the au-
. ’ tnor. In fact, he hardly makes enough
and even now contain helpful lessons I 8U pp 0r this style of extreme sim-
of honor and character. It is Mr plicity; yet withal, life is very pleas
Butterworth’s aim to entice his young J an * # to him. He relates wit h great
reader into these pleasant paths that
In the Journalist Series, Major Mo
ses P. Handy tells how he was present
at the surrendea of the Virginus, hav
ing got ahead of all the other corres
pendents.
Edwin AtLee Barber gives the his
tory of “An Old American Cbina-Man-
ufactory” (that of Tucker and Hemp
hill, of Philadelphia in 1825 to 1858),
and Floyd B. Wilson describes his re
searches “In the French Champagne
country.” These articles are illus
trated, as is that of E. P. Heap, U. S.
on the mode of lighting “The
Statue of Liberty.”
“Paul H. Hayne’s Methods of Com
position” are recounted by his son,
William H. Hayne. with two por<
traits.
Mrs. Bloomfield Moore explains
“Keely’s Present Position” and tells
us that he is searching, not for per.
petual motion, but for the ele ments
of hydrogen.
Francis Preston Fremont, U. S. A.,
writes briefly of “Fremont in Califor
nia.” M. Crofton, in “Men of the
Day,’, handles Herbert Spencer Vic-
torien Sardou, Robert T. Lincoln, and
Phillips Brooks. “As It Seems’, talks
of Renan, Tennyson, and other mat
ters.
There is a short story of California,
illustrated, “An Honest Heathen,” by
Ella Sterling Cummins, and a brief
prose poem, “A Life,” by Henry Rus
sell Wray. The verse of the number
by Florenee Earl Coates, Gertrude
Morton, S. R. Elliott, and Frederick
Peterson.
lead to classical Rome, that he may
feel a hunger for those noble works of
antiquity which have been models in
style through the ages.
Leaving the Golden Age on which
he dwells lovingly, Mr. Butterworth
pictures the heroic virtues of the Re-1
public as illustrated in Cincinnatus,
Regulus, Cato, and the other stern,fine j
characters of that strenuous day. He
shows us the growing wealth and lux
ury of the city as the conquering valor I
gusto of a letter he received not long
since from a pnblisher in the far West
asking how much he would taka for
the exclusive right to publish his
poem “Faerie Queen” in the United
States.—M. Crofton, in December Lip-
pincott.
Paml H. Hayne’s Methods of Cofflpo-
sltlon.
NEW BOOKS.
Worthington & Co., 747 Broadway,
New York, have issued an exceedingly
attractive announcement of new
books. Men, women, boys and girla
cannot fail to find in thia fascinating
list the very things their palates are
Oliver Wendell Holmes once said to
my mother that “poetry takes a great
deal out of a man;” and these words
express, in a nutshell, wtiat I mean.
My fat her’s favorite habits of com po
of the fathers bore its dangerous fruits J s Uion were to pace back and fort h be-
for the children to enjoy. He takes us tw * e " th ® standing-desk in his study
. . „ land the book-shelves in the library or
to visit Cicero and Horace, and gives J beneath the trees surrounding Cops^
characteristic samples of their elo-1 Hill, if the weather was favorable, and
quence and wit. He points out the I pencil and volume in hand to jot
case of thedegeneraoyof the Empire
and paints vivid portraits of the cruel I of it. as the duration of the creative
and relentless Emperors, only relieved mood would allow. Sometimes he wrote
by such wonderful exceptions as the whi,e takin S a leisurely horseback ride
• „ o a „_,i *.u„ around the house or through the woods,
a ntly Marcu. Aurelius and the £« n - sometimes while sitting in his armchair
erous Vespasian. He gives a glowinglof Georgia pine, but generally with
account of the fall of the Empire under greater ease while walking. This was
the army-elected rulers,and he depicts especially true during the early and
the regenerating influence of Christi- middle portions of his life, when he
anity; even when persecuted and|f° und ft irksome to sit do»vn for any
buried in the Catacombs, it works as a I length of time, and never seemed to
new and life-giving leaven. I weary of those meditative walks.
Mr. Butterworth is a poet, and he I have known him to compose the
looks with a poetic spirit rather than l ast line or the intermediate part, of a
a critical eye on the evolution of his-1 poem before the beginning. When com-
tory. He follows Duruy rather than pleted, however, what reader would
Mommsen; for which the young reader have doubted that it came iuto being
will be duly grateful, since it causes consecutively?
him to dwell more particularly on the Occasionally the choice phrasing of a
stirring episodes of the old heroic thought that had baffled him for days
days than on the gloomy period of de- would visit him in sleep. My mother
cay. I told me that he awoke one night (he
The work is illustrated with over had be«*n very busy preparing bis Sa-
100 full-page cuts and vignettes, and I vannah Sesqui-Centennial Ode) from
will undoubtedly appeal to a wide tranquil slumber, and said suddenly,
circle of youngreaders to whom itmay |“Minna, at last, in sleep the thought
be warmly commended. I which has eluded me for days has been
Little Arthnr’s History of Rome, I captured I”
from the Golden Age to Constantine. I Then he repeated the following lines
By Hezekiah Butterworth. I vol. 12 which Philip Bourke Marston after-
mo,1256 pp., map, 109 illustrations, j wards pronounced finne, and whicn so
cloth, $1.25. j worthily describe the loveliness of
T. Y. Crowell & Co., 100 Purchase Southern women:
St., Boston; 46 E. 14th Street. New I „ .
York City. ’ I ^Tream^ * r * nc ® U( l daughters of a
————————— I They have stolen a sun-shaft for each radiant
HERBERT SPENCER. . ^ * ,aroe t
And woven the star-shine in their midnight
Herbert Spencer, the great philoso-1 In the earlier years of his literary
pher, is a profoundly bald headed I career he would frequently awake at
co "? ,derab, y I get out of bed, light a candle,
der8 ’ with a firm and compose many lines upon some
S_ ra y */*?• and pinky poem which he said had “forced itself
white cheeks framed in early gray I upon his mind ”
side whiskers, and still adheres to the He was more sympathetic in writing
fr °°Ki" C< i? t ’ ,ow “ cut _ waf8 t- Prose than versefalthough many char-
coat, stand-up black cravat, and over-!acteristic specimens of the former
gaiters of long ago. Despite the lm- may be found in the fly-leaves of all
mense burden of learning which he kinds of books. When engaged in pre-
cyme., he is angularly modest, has paring an (way, « boitreview, a
r^mhfin.'h! '* story,the copying of manuscript for
feminine in manner. He is now three I the printer, or the claims of a Inro-e
a, i d * n life a9 correspondence, he would usually go
a civil engineer, with a desire to make to his standing-desk in the morning,
a reputation as a> mathematician. He soon after breakfast, and w^ite for
is unmarried, and has but few IntlH hours.—William HHavne in DeeJm-
mate personal friends. It is related 1 her Wppinoott£ ’ ’