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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. .12 "0 ..1.0) 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£ ’ ’