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|$1 LITERATURE,!
MFi!
VOL. XX. No. 935.
ATLANTA, GA., JANUARY 6, 1894
PRICE: $2.00 A YEAR.
The Years.
f iV ji or prosper, empires rise or fall, .
Ami men. like chasing shadows, come and go;
Iiopr*. Idoom or wither, change creeps over all,
\ml still, with noiseless and unbroken flow,
Tim constant years move on, as tireless feet
of faithful -c'ntinels keep ceaseless beat,
Move on. commissioned, o’er their varying way,
Aow wreathed with joy, now draped with
grief and pain:
Now like the dawning of unclouded day,
Now like the dripping o December rain;
Now with a soothing, now a grinding touch.
The years that bring, that take away so much.
They stay not for the pleading hands we raise,
Thcv hurry not for our impatient moan;
Not swift, riot slow, they fl 1 their measured
days.
Toiling till their appointed work is done;
Then in close ranks, perfect and full, they stand,
Like ripened sheaves that wait the reax>er’s
hand.
As some fair ship sails from a princely port,
Proud of the costly freight she nobly bears,
Dips in t lie eddying waves with gleeful sport,
lint comes not back for longing hearts or
prayers,
So do the'years, full freighted, leave our shore,
Sink in the distance, and return no more.
As thought on thought grows into Volumes wise,
Mr stone by stone, the mighty • ome appears;
As sand by sand the bound less-desert lies,
The ocean drop by drop,—so years on years,
Like layers, rising l-.fty and sublime,
Form.at the last, grand pyramids of time.
They are the links of an unending chain,
Whose circling ooils reach to the world on
high;
Bearers of cups unw illing lips must drain,
braves.—sunken graves of hopes that could
but die;
Waves of a deep, illimitable sea,
Beats of the great clock of eternity.
They have no other than an onward sweep,
The years, forever coming, going.gone;
As planets to their centres steadfast keep,
Back to the power that sent they faithful run.
With them, unwittingly, we hurry on.
Like autumn leaves by mountain torrent borne.
Boll on. O Years, in strong, resistless course;
On hearts and lives deep, searing traces make;
Kccpof each earthly hope the still, cold corse,
We hold what ye can never sxioil nor take.
Sweep on, in tears, in bitterness, and blood,
Ac can but bear us nearer home and God.
F. H. Makr.
The Political Status of Women.
“It cannot be denied that the time
has come when the woman suffrage
movement must be looked to as one of
the formidable forces of our polit'eal
life,” writes Jeanette Howard, in T»e
<'haiitau</uan for January. “Rising
slowly but surely in the old parent
communities, making large, rapid
tains in the newly settled portions of
tlie country and advancing boldly to
|he front and center with a constantly
increasing momentum, the movement
h>r equal suffrage demands, and is re
ceiving a larger share of attention
u °w than ever before. Woman has
ceased to he an indirect member of the
^tate. She is a participant in politics,
and has gained a political status.
” hat her position is, as it relates to
the science of government and its
actual development, is well for the
thoughtful citizen to consider.'’
•t'e article is an able review of
Boman suffrage movement with ao ac-
count of the important victories
achieved in America and elsewhere.
. he most notable gain cited after those
1,1 Wyoming and Colorado, if not
greater than either,is that which came
a unit not long since in New Zealand,
'ere women may hereafter enjoy all
>e privileges of the ballot on equal
eril,s with men. It is, perhaps, a more
'•table gain than any other, because
*ade ui a practically self-governing
'•Buitry, possessed of independent and
•Hereign powers.
Why We Blush.
of m* i?? eil ! ous theory as to the cau-e
Ils|l ingis given in The Chautauquan
sais rfV lary by Camille Meiinard. He
bln i • ° ,lH law governs all cases of
fi, f lln ": whether it is earned by con-
namelv shame > or modesty;
rh tll e person lias the impression
wUhl >r lers Sre t Q him that which he
nVn con( *eal. He thus concludes;
cases blushing goes directly
swiieoie'Jha'ii t ;. re . sts * We tremble lest
and i,ii.-\ • ai vine iq us a secret my,
t"r,.ft 1 ","* betra -' s joy- we
b t "e s all he suspected of
some secret thought, and blushing be
trays the thought. We blush because
we fear to attract special notice, and
so do the very thing which does attract
notice 1 Blushing then serves no pur
pose. At least, all that it can be
credited with is, as Darwin says, the
embellishing of the faces of young
girls, or the serving a* a mark of divine,
justice in making the guilty betray
themselves. Otherwise it seems out of
placrt in the harmony of phenomena
useiul to our existence. It is a useless
and dangerous luxury.
“This constant relation between
blushing, the physical fact, and the sen
timent of being unmasked, the moral
fact, remains yet to be examined. Why
does the one accompany the other ? The
temptation to seek a response is strong,
but I believe that it should be resisted.
We do not yet know enough of the
nature of such problems to resolve
them with precision. All that we can
say positively at the present is, that
every time such a physical phenomenon
is produced, such a’ mental phenome
non is also produced; there exists be
tween the two an invariable liaison.
As to understanding why one follows
the other, we cannot yet. We may ad
vance hypotheses more or, less reason
able, but none of them can be scientific
ally established. It is better than to
foreao them all. Let us content our
selves now with ascertaining and
proving; later on we shall also com
prehend.”
Most Popular Novels.
A New York publisher has recently
obtained from all the important libra
ries in the United States a report of the
most popular novels, as shown by the
number of times the books were called
for, and 150 of tlu* most popular works
of fiction were taken as the list from
each library. In a statement of the
books that reached toe highest per
centage of popularity, it was found
that “David Copperfield” had the
highest place on the list, and that
“Ivanhoe’ stood next to it. Then “The
Scarlet Letter,” “Uncle Tom’s Cabin,”
“Ben-Hur,” “Adam Bede,” “Vanity
Fair,” “Jane Eyre,” “The Last Da> s of
Pompei 1 ,” “John Halifax, Gentleman,”
“Les Miserables” and “Little Women”
follow in the order in w T hich they are
here mentioned. The popularity of
these works, whi *h are all novels of the
highest order, shows that the best
books are also the most widely read.
At the same time something dep j nds
upon the constituency which is ad
dressed A public library represents
the average reader of fiction, and its
supporters are representatives of th»
people. The fact that a good part of
the really great books of fiction
are included in the first twenty-
five volumes named on this list is a
strong testimony to the quality of
reading which the best average
people in America indulge in. The
The whole list, which is published in
the December Forum, is full of instruc
tion to those who are interested m
what the people read. Fiction is, on
the whole, the literature which appeals
to the greatest number of readers, and
this list is instructive in showing that
r<-al good fiction has a very large cur
rency among the frequenters of the
public library.
It is curious to see how reputations
are scattered about in such a list. Mr.
Howells is at a low point, much lower
than the author of “Queechy,” and
“Robinson Crusoe” has the same rank
of popularity with “Lorna Doone ”
“The Autocrat of the Breakfast Table”
is not near so popular as the author of
“Elsie Venner.” Dickens, Sir Waiter
Scott, Hawthorne, Mrs. Stowe, Gen.
Lew Wallace, George Eliot and Ihack-
erav are the novelists who lead in the
world of fic!ion in point of popularity.
The absence of French and German
and Spanish and Russian writers from
this list shows to what a smajl extent
the fiction of other nationalities is in
teresting to the American people at
large. Then, again, it is notable that
many authors whose names are known
over the whole continent, like Mi&
Wilkins, Miss Murfree, Miss Jewett
and Mr. James and Mr. Cable, have no
recognition at all in this popular list.
What the people read may or may
not be the exact test of an
author’s popularity, but it is one of
the best means by which a writer’s
power to make himself known can be
tested, and it is a sizing up of the inter
est that others feel in one’s books that
is not influenced by any adventitious
circumstances. It is not always due to
merit, but the popu larity of a large num
ber of these books is a sure indication
of the favor wiih which they have been
received by the best, readers of fiction.
The readers in the public library rep
resent the pure literary democracy of
the nation. They are not influenced by
accidents or parties. They read because
they are interested, and if the rearly
great works in fiction, works that are
created and original and powerful, can
retain their place in the front rank of
popularity in the present rage for sen
timentalism and all kinds of cheap
work, it shows that the tastes and cul
ture of the people can be rated highly.
Ii is expected that fiction in the public
libraries will be, perhaps, more miscel
laneous and deteriorating than it is in
tbehanfisof the people at large. Thou
sands of readers have to be fed on trash
until they demaHd something better,
but at the present showing of t he pub
lic libraries throughout the country,
the people have indicated that the best
works of fiction are in no danger of be
ing lost sight of by the pr sent genera-
tion. Richardson, Fielding, Smollett
and Miss Burney have pissed out of
any constituency among 'he people of
t< -day, but the really great novelists of
the world do not lose their readers in
the changes of a generation. They hold
them because they deal with what is
permanent in human life and charac
ter, and they are just as sure of an au
dience in each generation as Shakes
peare is to be read and enjoyed where-
ever the language is known.—Boston
Herald.
The Oleander City.
Galveston, Tex., is a strange and
unique city, particularly when seen
from the d^ck of a steamboat. It is
built on an island of sand, no portion
of which is more than six feet above
high water mark. The island on which
the city is built is more than thirty
miles long and from one to two miles
in breadth. It is separated from the
mainland by a bay several miles wide,
over which a magnificent iron bridge
has recently been built. Galveston D
the principal seaport of Texas, and is
m communication by sail and steam
ships with all parts of the commercial
world. The streets are of wood and
laid out with the regularity of those of
Philadelphia. . The sidewalks are
shaded by oleanders, which grow to
the height of twenty feet, and fill the
air with delightful perfume from myr
iads of red and white blossoms. The
temperature of Galveston is milder
than that of any other Texas city,
owing to it being on an island, the
warmth arising from the salt water
breakin g the forceof the fierce Northers.
It has often been remarked particularly
by the people of Houston, wh ch is a
commercial r val of Galvestion, that it
was very improper to build a city on a
mere sand bank, anc^fears were enter
tained that some day it would be swept
out of existence. Whenever Galvestun
is mentioned the Houston merchant
tries very hard to look sad, shakes his
head, and quotes from Holy Writ about
the foolish man who erected his domi
cile on the sand, and its sub-equent
collapse owing to the floods and rain,
but Galveston keeps right on doing
business at the old stand. Although
built upon the sand it must not be sup
posed that its business houses and pri
vate residences are not of a substan ial
character. The stores on the Strand,
as the principal business is called, are
four or five stories high, massive struc
tures, and most of them are built of
brick.—Texas Siftings.
The first printing press in the United
States was introduced in 1629.
A WITCH OF TO-DAY.
By MARY E. BRYAN.
[Copyright.]
[COMMENCED IN CHRISTMAS NUMBER]
CHAPTER III.
MEETS AN UNKNOWN “ FRIEND ” IN THE
HOFFMAN HOUSE.
The afternoon was fine, and there
were many well-dressed promenaders
on Broadway. Van Zandt walked along,
aimless, j et diverted. The panorama of
faces that went drifting past him had
a human interest for him, though he
knew none of the people. He had lived
nearly all his life in the ranch, though
his manners were those of a gentleman,
thanks to his having been brought up
by a refined and painstaking mother.
Had he been in the heart of the Afric
an desert, he could not have felt more
isolated than here in the midst of these
people, who did not know him or care
whether he was glad or grieved, wheth
er he had bright prospects or dark.
“It gives a fellowj» sense of being
shipwrecked on a desert island,thrown
utterly on his own resources,” he said
to himself. “ A sense of loneliness but
yet of independence. No appearances
to keep up bere. I might be walking
along in the clothes of a hod-carrier,
and it would make no difference. There
would be no lriend or fair lady to turn
up the nose of disdain.
He stopped short in his reflections.
At the instant his careless glance had
been suddenly caught and fixed by a
look of recognition. An elegant-look
ing middle-aged woman had just
stepped from her carriage in front of
a large importing establishment. She
saw him, and with a little movement
of surprise she turned and spoke to
the young girl standing by her. They
both looked at Van Zandt, smiled
graciously, and bowed. They even
stood an instant, with the breadth of
the street between them and the Cali
fornian, looking at him and evidently
expecting that, tie would come to them.
But he only bowed, taking off his hat
that they might not ieel chagrined.
Evidently they had taken him to be
some one they knew.
He strolled on, dropped into
Tiffany’s for a look at the jewels and
costly bric-a-brac, as visitors to New
York are apt to do, and then into a
Japanese art store filled with quaint
and pretty things.
The afternoon was growing late
when he reached the Hoffman House.
He had read of the noted hotel, aud
he stepped into its handsomely ap
pointed bar-rooui to take a look at the
famous painting, “The Nymphs and
Satyr,” which covers the wall on one
side. He was gazing at the nude
charms of the nymphs when someone
grasped his shoulder from behind. He
turned and saw a man of thirty-five,
well dressed, with a shrewd, prepos
sessing face.
“Is it really you, old man? I was
sure I knew yonr profile. Delighted
to see you back! When did you get
to New York ?”
‘'Today,” York answered, and he
thought to himself:
“Here is one of the devilish New
York confidence men I’ve heard so
much about. He’s spotted me for
green game, it seems, in spite of my
trying to look like a metropolitan.
I’ll humor the thing for fun, just to
see what sort of trick he’s up to. It
can’t hurt me; I’ve nothing to lose.”
The thought flashed through his
mind in a breath’s time. The man
spoke again.
“Why, I didn’t know any of the big
steamers came in today ?”
“I came by way of the Union Pacific
railroad,” returned Van Zandt.
“What! So you’ve been round the
world ? Then it’s true what the
papers said about you, that you had
gone to Australia to speculate in
mining stock there, eh ?”
“The papers say a lot of rubbish,”
York answered, carelessly.
‘So they do/’ replied the other,
giving him a keen look that seemed to
say : ‘ You’re non committal.” Then
he went on:
“Anyhow, I’m deuced glad to see
you, old fellow! You’ve been away,
let me see, twelve months, isn’t it?”
“ Longer than that.”
“So it is. The last time I saw you
was at Mrs. Piffen’s big ball. Stupid
affair it was! You were to lead the
german with Gertrude Danforth, and
you excused yourself on some plea or
other. Mrs. Piffen was awfully wor
ried. She kept on regretting and won
dering to Miss Danforth. until the
quenly Gertrude gave her one of her
haughty stares. You know how scorn
ful File can be, for all her sweetness.
By the way, have 1 you seen her since
you came ?”
He put the question with another
searching look.
“Not yet; I’ve just got here, you
know,’ answered York.
The name “Gertrude’ 1 had attracted
his attention, and the little stroke of
description surprised him by its apply
ing so well to the Gertrude of the rail
road accident—the Gertrude of the ring
he had now in his vest pocket. But how
did she—wfcc from her manner, belong
ed to the hautmonde—come to be known
to this common swindler, who was no
doubt trying to lead him into aDm* trap
in the hopes of getting money out of
him?
Van Zandt was curious to know what*
this trap would be. Would his pretend
ed acquaintance propose they should
drop in at some secret fashionable gam
bling-house or some place where there
were sleight-of-hand and tricks that
invited what seemed perfectly save bet
ting? These were old schemes. It was
probable that this shrewd,gentlemanly
person bad at his command som« newer
and more ingenions way of putting his
hand into the stranger’s pocket.
“But come and have something to
drink, my dear boy. Billy Edwards is
still here in his glory, you see, ready
to give you the best stud going. You
don’t care to be looking at the
nymphs; they’re the same old daisies,”
with an irreverent toss of his head to
ward the picture. “What will you
dally with ?”
York would only take a gla«s of
sherry. There would be no danger of
a drug in any drink he might take
across the counter of the Hoffman
House; the gentlemanly bunco-steerer
would have no chance to tamper with
the liquor.
“I suppose you had to foreswear
brandy and Burgundy while you were
in the hot countries,” he said to Van
Zandt. “You have really been at the
antipodes ?” 1
“Where haven’t I been ?” York
answered, affecting the blase indiffer
ence of a much-traveled man.
‘ Well, wherever you’ve been, your *
trip has improved jou You look a
devilisu sight better than when you
left—browner and heavier, and
broader-shouldered. The fellows will
tell you so at the club. You haven’t
dropped in at the League yet ? Come
and dine with me there. We’ve got a
new cook, a real chef./He makes a
good soup and a capital sauce; You
know old La Sarte could never make a
decent sauce.”
He ha<l pulled out his watch as they,
talked.
“It’s twenty minutes after five,” lie
said, “and I’ve ordered dinner at six.
Shall we turn our steps in that direc
tion ?”
“Now for the trap,” thought York,
as he gave his assent. “Instead of be
ing taken to a club house, I will bieu
carried to some place to be fleeced..
I’ll humor the game awhile longer and
watch out for the trick.”
"He went out with his pretended
frit-nd, and they walked a block or two