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THE SUNNY SOUTH, ATLANTA; GEORGIA* SEPTEMBER CO
189S.
A WAST1D SUMMER.
She has danced and flirted at mountain hotels
And at numerous seaside bops.
Bbe bas brightened her cheeks with the bne of
health
That a girl can’t buy at the shops.
Bbe has yachted and boated and driven and
bathed
In costumes delightful to see.
But alas! all the youths that have been intro
duced
Have gone away fancy free.
BAB ON HEREDITY.
She bas sat in dark corners—not quite alone—
With the moon shining in thrnugn the vines
She has be**n out driving with lazy young men
Who have let her control the lines.
She ban played croquet till the stars came out
But in spite of the ankles near.
That sue daintily showed at times, no youth
Has knelt at her little feet.
She has come back home, now the summer bas
gone,
And she’s “bad a delightful time.”
Bbe says, but she’s thinking, oh 1 dreadful
thoughts,
That I Dover could put in rhyme.
For the summer has gone, and the husband she
thought
Bhe might capture has not been csged.
She has none her b'-st. but- bother it all—
She hasn’t come home engaged.
—Somerville Journal.
j.WHERE THE LOBOI MEET.
A Splendid Ctumber lOO Feet long
and Richly Decorated.
What specially strikes a visitor on
entering the house of lords for the
first time is the rich splendor of the
chamber, says the New York Herald.
It is a noble apartment, 100 feet long
by 45 broad and 45 high, splendidly
adorned and carved, lighted by twelve
richly decorated windows. All round
run galleries, protected by handsome
brass railings. The end gallery is
that set apart for the use of strangers.
It has the press gallery just in front.
The galleries that run along the sides
are for the use of distinguished per
sonages. When the princess of
Wales and other ladies of the royal
family a r tend to hear the debates they
invariably view the scene from the
alcove of the gallery to the left of the
throne. The throne itself is a richly
gilt chair, directly facing the strang
ers’ gallery. It stands on a slightly
raised dais and is divided off from the
rest of the house by a handrail. From
this part Of the chamber privy, coun
cilors and the sons of peers who have
the entree usually watch the pro
ceedings, and on the night of any
great debate many members of the
house of commons also may be seen
here.
The seats in the house of lords are
arranged much as in the lower house,
except that rows of cross benches face
the woolsack. It is there that the
P'ince of Wales and the dukes of
Edinburg, Connaught and Cambridge
ordinarily sit, this part of tbe house
indicating independence of political
allegiance to either of the great par
ties. Occasionally some noble lord
who may have broken with his party
finds a temporary seat here, too. as
Lord Derby aid in the session of 1879.
The lord chancellor, who acts as
speaker or chairman of the upper
house, sits in the front of the throne
on the so-called woolsack. This is
really a sort of ottoman, and a seat
compared with which an armchair
such as the speaker of the House of
Commons is allowed must be luxuri
ous ease.
The peers of the ministerial party
sit to the lord chancellor’s right;
those in opposition to the left. By a
curious custom in the procedure of
the house, whenever the lord chancel
lor speaks in debate, he has to step
two paces to the left of, and away
from, the woolsack—an old idea, for it
places him—a member of tbe party in
power and a cabinet minister—on the
opposite side of the house.
Tbe person who screams, or uses
the superlative degree, or converses
with heat, puts whole drawing rooms
to flight. If you wish to be loved,
love measure. You must have genius
or a prodigious usefulness if you will
hide the want of measure. This per
ception comes in to polish and perfect
the part of the social instrument. So
ciety will pardon mucb to genius and
special gifts; but being in its nature
a convention, it loves wnat is conven
tional or what belongs to coming to
gether. That makes the good and
had of manners, namely, what helps or
hinders fellowship. For fashion is
not good sense absolute, but relative;
not good sense private, but good sense
entertaining company. It hates cor
ners and sharp points of character;
hates quarrelsome, egotistical, solitary
and gloomy people; hates whatever
can interfere with total blending of
parties; whilst it values all particu
larities as in the highest degree re
freshing which can consist with good
fellowship. And, besides the general
infusion of wit to heighten civility,
the direct splendor of intellectual
power is ever welcome in fine society,
as the costliest addition to its rule and
its credit.—Emerson.
Students,Teachers (male or female)
Clergymen, and others in need of
ohange of employment, should not fail
to write to B. F. Johnson A Co., Rich
mond, Va. Their great success shows
that they have got the true ideas
about making money. They can show
>uu bow to eujploj odd hours profita
bly.
The Virtues and Vices, Strength and
Weakness of Our Ancestors
Considered*
(Copyright, 1893. From Our Regular
Correspondent.)
New York, Sept. 27,1893.
RE YOU A BE
liever in heredity?
Do you think that
in the mental and
physical something
that you call your
self may be found
the virtues and vi
ces, the weakness
and the strength of
your ancestors?
And that, over it all
will come your own
personality, which, if it be strong, will
control the birth-given instincts, and
if it be weak will yield to them with
scarcely a struggle? As ^for myself,
so often see the child as a reflection
of the grandfather, the son showing
certain traits of the mother, and the
daughter expressing in her feminine
way the indomitable will and energy
of her father, that I cannot but be
lieve that the sins and the virtues of
our forefathers descend upon us, even
unto the second and third generation
READING THE HUMAN HEART.
Zola, that badly translated writer
that great reader of the human heart
the human brain and the human body
has in his last book, which tome seems
his greatest, shown how, starting out
from one woman, four generations
wrought out either their happiness or
sorrow; how those who came from the
honest and best side of this woman
were yet tainted by the slumbering
wickedness within her, that showed
itself in a disgraceful love with
brutal man; and how, even where this
taint existed in her children and
grand-children it was overcome either
by those who had a strong will, or a
strong faith. For from this woman
who, in her girlhood, was an honest
wife and mother, and in her woman
hood was a faithless wife, and the
mother of children whom she dared
not own, the generations brought
saints and sinners, priests who went
to the scaffold for their faith, sisters
of charity who walked through hos
pitals where horrible diseases were,
and cared for the bodies and souls of
those who were ill; men, who, by their
force of will, ruled the nation, wo
men, who, by their wickedness, ruined
men, mentally and physically; and
men, whe, by their weaknesses, made
manhood^a something to be scoffed at.
How can you deny what her heredity
means when you think of all this?
But, what Zola has written hasn’t so
very much to do with my story.
Over a hundred years ago in County
Wexford, Ireland, once in a great
while, the Spirit would move a gentle
Quakeress to speak in meeting, and al
ways when she spoke there came into
her little sermon this great text: “He
who is without sin let him cast the first
stone.”
This Quakeress was Mistress Bar
bara Hilary, and I, who am her great-
grand-cbiid, feel that because of the
number of letters that have come to
me, that I am moved by the Spirit to
speak in behalf of the other woman,
sne has always been called that. Even
when she was at her greatest. If she
were Cleopatra or Aspasia, she was
always the other woman. She was not
the wife, who must be above suspi
cion; she was not the mother of sons
who bore their father’s name; she
was only the woman who meant to
men hours of pleasure, intellectual or
physical, and she was the woman who
could be forgotten, or cast off to suit
the caprice of her master.
Sometimes she mastered him, hut
not for long. Her reign has invaria
bly been a short one; and she has al
ways found that the wages of sin were
death. Not just the mere dying, that
is nothing; but the being forgotten
while still alive; the loss of beauty
and wealth, and the having to solicit
as a beggar where she once was a
giver.
BAB HELFS AN ABANDONED WOMAN.
Not long ago, crossing Broadway
close to midnight, as I was coming
rrom the theatre, from out the dark
side street there stepped a woman who
touched me on the arm; the man who
was with me did not want me to stop,
but I would. She told me she was
hungry; and when I asked her more,
she told me that she was ?9 years old;
that she knew death wasn’t very far
from her, and that she had been driven
out of the house in which she had
lived, because she was no longer an
attraction; because her hollow eyes
and her awful cough disgusted men.
The man who was with me gave her
some money, and I told her to meet
me next day at a place where I knew
she would be taken in and cared for
until she was either cured or—and
Next day I
little while
is
force this girl into acknowledging
that she was the other woman. Again
that the story
ble bed and she was to be cared ior, i true, due x ao say ii it is, this man
noor soul as long as she lived, which, ought to be made to suffer here, as he
by-tbe-by, was only four weeks after j certainly will hereafter.
then I could say no more,
found her there, and in a
the good Sister had her in a comforts- I say, I don t know thal
hie bed and she was to be cared for, true, but I do say if it
I first met her. .
I suppose I ought to draw a picture
of a beautiful repentance and a mar
velous death-bed, but if I did it would
be a lie. That woman was so sick and
so worn out that all she realized was
LIFE AT THE MATERNITY.
A while ago, I was up at the Mater
nity, and talking to Sister Irene of
the women who came there. She told
me that the greater number of those
that she had a quiet life, some people who came from the better classes of
about her who were friendly to her, 1 '
and that at the last, when death came,
she sank into a gentle sleep, from
which she never swikened. When
she was dead her youth came back to
her, and she looked as sweet and as
pure as did your daughter, madam,
when she died last year. And I, who
stood by her bedside, could only w n-
der what would be God’s judgment on
the other woman. I have talked very
much with the sister to whom I took
her, a gentle, practical woman, who
sees and hears of the worst side of
life, and whose daily work is among
the other women, not in their pros
perity, not when they are well and
wealthy, but when they are ill and
poor and forsaken. And what she has
told me is what I am going to tell you
WOMEN WHO LOVE AND BELIEVE MUCH
The other woman oftenest comes
from small villages; she is seldom the
product of large cities. Sometimes
she brings about her ruin for love of
dress; from a desire for luxury and a
greed for gold and what it will give
her. Where she gets this knowledge
of luxury, inasmuch as her own peo
ple usually live a very simple life, is
unknown; sometimes from reading
silly books, but oftener from some far-
off ancestor.
Sometimes she joins the ranks of
the other women because she has
loved and believed too much, and,
frightened and ashamed, and not
knowing where to go, she comes to
the great city to hide herself, and
finds soon that what she first thought
was her shame she can make her dis
honor, and a dishonor which, in the
coin of the realm, pays her well. She
affeots to believe in the honor of no
woman; that is her part, for at heart
is always a desire to talk to a good
woman, and when she can’t, she re
venges herself by pretending to be
lieve that all women are impure.
The day comes when, perhaps, she
is ill, not unto death, and she goes to
the hospital. The Sister talks to her
gently and kindly; urges her to live
a better life, and when she is well she
faoes the Sister with this question,
“Who will help me?” She has lived a
life of luxury and laziness until she
does not know how to work, and for
some unknown reason she positively
refuses to be sent to a strange country
to take a position as maid-servant;
when she is well, she goes back to her
old life, returns to the hospital per
haps three or four times, and eventu
ally comes there to die. Can you do
anything but pity her? You an hon
ored wife, a loved mother, how can
you say one word against her? Put
yourself in her place and think out
the riddle.
Sometimes the other woman comes
from a better class of society; she is
well educated and was well oorn, and
she traces her downfall almost inva
riably to her love for a man.
It seems to me that when this hap
pens, surely there ought to be forgive
ness; and yet, there very seldom is.
The mother who has never had a
temptation hurls all the huge stones
of invective at the daughter who is
weak, and then the daughter becomes
the other woman.
Who was the man? Was it your
son, or mine? Was it your brother, or
mine? Sometimes the man is what he
calls true to her; that is, for three,
five, six or ten years he gives her
whatever love he has, accepts her
faithfulness and love; and then, when
he wishes a wife to sit at the head of
his table, reminds her what she has
been to him and takes to bear his
name, a young and innocent woman.
He tries to cure the leprosy with a
lily.
IS BRECKINRIDGE GUILTY OR NOT?
For weeks past the newspapers have
been full of the story of a young wom
an who says she was for nine long
years absolutely faithful to a man who
betrayed her when she was 17 .years
old, by whom she bore two living
children, and for whom she lied, even
to her mother. How he has married
somebody else. I know nothing about
the truth of her story; I only say that
if it is true, then I hope every man in
Kentuoky will help to lynch him. I
am not given, as a general thing, to
to sickly sentimentality, but the be
trayal of a girl of 17 by a man of 47, a
briLiant man, a man whom she had al
ways respected and honored because
of his position in her State, seems to
me something very dreadful. And
the giving of nine years of the best
part of her life to him should at least
have had its reward by her bearing
his name, and by the recognition of
their children. Remember, I do not
think this would have wiped away the
sin; both would have suffered for
that, even in this world; but I cannot
understand how a man can so utterly
disregard tbe rights of love and the
rights of bis children, as to willfully
society were almost invariably young
girls, who had lost their purity
through married friends of their fath
ers.
It is so easy for a man who visits in
timately at the house, to grow fami
liar with a girl of 12—to kiss her, and
take her on his lap; if he is fond of
children, to give some amusement
and then, as the months and years go
by, he discovers that the child has be
come a woman—a woman of IS, and
that he is very fond of her.
He knows how to do all sorts of
pleasant things for her; and her moth
er, foolish woman! permits her to go
to the theatre with her father’s old
friend, when she wouldn’t allow her
to go out with a boy of 20. I do not
say that this is always the result of
such an acquaintanceship, but I do
say that I blame mothers for permit
ting such a state of affairs to exist.
THE VEILED YOUNG WOMAN.
Last year at the Maternity there
was a girl about 19 years old, who had
a private room and who never came
out of it without a veil over her face
Sister Irene, the doctor and the nurse
were the only people who ever saw her
face. That girl’s mother believed she
was visiting friends in Italy, and dur
ing the time the girl was there, tbe
mother visited the chapel, and gave
her offering for the poor babies, and
never dreamed that her .only daughter
was hiding her shame in the same
house in which she stood. When it
was possible, she did go to Italy and
came back immediately, and to this
day her mother doesn't know that
every Thursday she goes to see a little
baby up there, and neither does she
dream that out of her pocket money
she is supporting that child. And the
man? Oh! the man visits the house,
and it is a constant surprise to the
father and mother that their daughter,
who used to be so fond of him when
she was a little girl, scarcely speaks to
him now.
LET US BE MERCIFUL.
Do you see her future? I do. A
loveless marriage; children born who
bear an honorable name, but who
never have her heart as does that one
which she cannot acknowledge and
about whose future she is always
worrying. Perhaps her life may be
worse than this. It may be one of
wickedness, lacking love, lacking
children, she may go along gratifying
all that is worst in her, and never let
ting ner best self come even to the
surface.
What are we going to do, you and I?
The other woman exists in every sta
tion of life. Sometimes we don’t re
cognize her, but oftener she is bran
ded with the scarlet letter. What are
we going to do? There are only two
things possible, my friend. We must
stop throwing stones, for our sins
may be greater than hers, and we
must remember always that it was
said of her, so many hundred years
ago: “Because she has loved mucb
much shall be forgiven her.” Are you
greater than the God-Man who said
this? I think not, my neighbor. So
let us join bands and try to do for her
the best we can. It may be only a lit
tle, but it will help; it will surely
help, even if the band only consists of
you and Bab.
HSINESI
NOTICES
Advertisements inserted under this htadin
for twenty-five cents per line, eacA instr.
tion.
W asted ; a poslti m to tea oh EneUah~twT
and Music, or as a companion
stating terms —
bemarle, Co.
40 Voung Mm („ pr ,
Telegraph Business. , , f 0r
$10 month, up, jjV
im.v to Atlanta.' Send -V. r f''/‘ r
particulars. R. M. HUG Hi's P - or
Box 280, Atlanta, Ga.
1 O 0KNTS fo . r a 'ampiecopv of
I w per and we will insert your name in on.
mail list which we send to publisoer* Ur
the U- 8. who
will an an<1
dealers all over
samples, books.
mett Elliott. Knoxville. Ga.
A R riSTIC dyeing. We dean or dye the most
xl delicate shades or fabrics. No rippinp
quired. Repair to order. w e pa* express**;
both ways to anv point in the U. 8. write for
terms. Aldred’s Dye *orks. Successor to Vo
gW-LPf* ^ ork8 and Cleaning Establishment'
Nashville, Tenn. '
W ANTED—Southern
' ~
people to save their
clothes. We clean and dye all kinds of
ladies and gentlemen’s clothing to look like
new. Fine party dresses cleaned without tak
ing apart. Send by express or mail to Southern
Dye and Cleaning Works, Atlanta, Ga. Writ*
us for price-list. 6
LaOrange Female College,
LaOranpe, deoffcia.
Cmmrm—Ufaiiw, Mnsla, Art, Normal
m tm each. Music and art first-clas.
Location—Elevated, healthful, retired.
Advantages—Uniform, gymnasium, baftn,
electric lights. Pupils board with faculty.
Industries, harmony, sight-singing taught
4*tb Session will begin Sep. 20, 1803.
B. BOTH. SUL BUfUS «. SMITH, PIEL
COLUMBUS ♦
BUSINESS ♦
COLLEGE#
Columbus, Ca. T
♦ AG'iftXSfc*7ft* Great Busintee and ▲
^ j* Shorthand School of the A
♦ /jk / /Vi South. W« pay students' ^
^ ^ /?. R. fart. Catalog free. ^
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> A o IVXlLxii
Shorthand & Bosks
COLrLrJEjGE.
S. Broad Street, ATLANT A, OX
adreds of graduates making from A/C l«
830C per month. Shorthand, Bookkeeping *>i
Telegraphy taught practically. No oki-tiaD.
snsthodi, Large catalogue free-. Nam#
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Urst and only naiu-kiilintirtreagtheninp olastez*
For Sale, Cheap.
A fine farm of 160 acres, well improved, well
watered, beautiful location, convenient to
school and church, at Upshaw, Cobb Co , Ga
Address I. D. Upshaw, Upshaw, Ga.
RUPTURE
particulars free. Address n
BaUthrills N. Y.
A positive radical
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DR. W. 8. RICE, Ao* 453
COLlECE . Superior advantages, practical,
successful. Finest penmaa, healthiest city,
lowest expenses. Special rates to students over
200 miles away. Catalogue free. J. T. Johnson,
President, Knoxville. Tenn.
SOUTHERN MEDICAL COLLEGE
Atlanta, Ga.
The Fifteenth Regular Session of this School will
begin Tuesday, October 3rd, 1893, and con
tinue until the first week in April 1894.
Instruction covers a period of three Sessions
of six months each, in three separate years, and
consists of Didactic and Clinical Lectures, with
Laboratory Courses in Pathology, Histology,
Bacteriology and Operative surgery.
INSTRUCTION IS THOROUGH,
and standard of requirements first class. Stu
dents who have attended a course of lectures
prior to September 1st, 1893. can come up for
graduation at the end of coming term: all others
are compelled to take three years graded course.
For catalogue, or further information,address
Dr. WILLI aM PERRIN NICOLSON, Dean,
P. O. Box 234. Atlanta. Ga
Shorter College for Young Ladies,
ROM Pd, GEORGIA.
SESSION OPENS ON SEPTEMBER
28TH.
1. * high and healthful situation.
2. Charming grounds and scenery.
3. Magnificent brick buildings, costing $130,-
000.
4. Modern improvements, including electric
lights.
5. Twenty accomplished teachers and officers.
6. A splendid Conservatory of Music.
7. A famous School of Art
8. A finely equipped Department of Physical
Culture.
9. An unsurpassed School of Elocution.
Moderate charges for these unrivaled advant
ages. Apply to R. A. J. BATTLE,
President.
Or PROF IVY W. DUGGAN. Business Manage*'