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THE SUNNY SOUTH.
ATLANTA, GEORGIA,
• • • THE • • •
SUNNY SOUTH
PUBLISHED BT TH1
Sunny South Publishing Co.
BUSINESS OFPICEl
CONSTITUTION BLDG., ATLANTA, GA.
the distribution of his pamphlets despite
the action of the authorities. It is one
thing to write hysterical tributes to Agui-
naldo, but quite another thing to wear
prison stripes for sheer love of him, and
Mr. Atkinson will probably change his
mind about continuing his disreputable
work.
This same crowd of Boston "anti-impe
rialists” delayed the confirmation of the
peace treaty with the assistance of Sena
tors Hoar and Hale, gave comfort to
JAMES R. HOLLIDAY,
JOHN H. SEALS,....
| EDITORS.
SUBSCRIPTION TERMS I
)ne year ...$2.00 | Six Months....$1.00
Aguinaldo and were directly responsible
for the revolt of the Insurgents. On the
very eve of an adjustment of the war in
the Philippines they redouble their ener
gies, and with a malicious intent which
passes understanding seek to influence
the American soldiers to mutiny.
TO CONTRIBUTORS.
Unlera pay in demanded manuscript, will be
treated a. gratuitous contributions. We do not
undertake to return short manuscripts—such ss
poems, sketches, srtloles. Keep ooples. Prepay
postage to Insure safe return. Do not roll any
oianuseripts. Short ones may be folded for
thort or long envelopes. Inclose letters about
nonuaorlpts In packages containing manuscripts
-not separately, announcing that they have
teen forwarded. Do not expect the acoepV
ince of writings unless they are submitted in
food literary form.
Atlanta, Qa., Saturday, May 20,1899.
Our Associate Editor.
For the last issue the brilliant Harvey
Porter Layton, of Dresser, Indiana, con
tributed a fascinating sketch of the
gifted young poet, Alonzo Leora Rice,
who is rapidly making an enviable repu
tation for himself in the field of lit
erature. In presenting Mr. Rice, Mr.
Layton does not bring a stranger to us,
but he tells us something of the man
whose work we have known and admired
not only in contemporary magazines, but
who for us has often touched his harp.
Mrs. Whitney Dies.
After a lingering death of a year or
more the handsome wife of the ex-secre
tary of the navy finally expired on the
6th inst.
No invalid, no unfortunate, no human
being perhaps ever received such sympa
thy and such attention. Everything that
money could furnish was lavishly sup
plied; every resource of medical and elec
tric science was exhausted, but none of
these could save the lovely woman. A
special car,with the most delicate springs,
was constructed to carry her to New
York, and a sympathetic interest in her
behalf was awakened throughout the
continent.
It is well known that she was injured
in a fox chase in South Carolina, near
Aiken, and special cars brought friends
and physicians from New York to her
bedside, but the blow was fatal and par
alysis of the head carried her away.
Money, friends, sympathy and all the
nursing possible will not shield us from
“And ope’d new fountains in the human
heart.”
For a man so young as is the subject of
Mr. Layton’s sketch his success has been
almost phenomenal, and should he never
strike his lyre again, he has already es
tablished beyond peradventure his claims
to "the power divine." Today he is gath
ering the laurels that have generally been
withhold to decorate the tombs of other
bards.
Mr. Rice has generously consented to
edit our poetical department, and we con
gratulate ourselves on securing so tal
ented an editor.
In days to come this poet, who worships
at Nature’s shrine, will conduct us pleas
antly under smiling skies, over Alpine
heights, "neath the shadows vast of pa
triarchal tree,’’ down shady lanes,
through leafy coverts, up flower-decked
hill, to “orchards red and white with
blossoms.”
Then, through jasmine perfumed
aisles, we will reverently descend to
laughing dale, fragrant meadow, flower
ing hedge, bladed field and listen to the
murmuring reeds ’mid their beds of lily
leaves. ' Down narrow glens o'erhung
with dewy thorn,” we will see the daisy’s
cheek grow pink, and watch the "blue
eyed harebells blend their tears" and
hear the woodland choir awaken music
sweet.
The gentle rill will softly sigh through
rustling ferns, the whispering zephyrs
will fan the ivy green, that creepeth o’er
the velvety banks, while Fancy, with
stately tread and worshipful mien, walks
up and down “by streams of song.”
What Jackson Would Do.
The New York Journal has this to say
about Atkinson and his pamphlets sent
out by the "Anti-Imperialistic League,”
of which Edward Atkinson, of Boston, is
vice-president, and which have been
seized by the postal authorities, the cab
inet having decided that they were sedi
tious. These documents had been mailed
to the Philippines for the purpose of in
citing the natives to rebellion and caus
ing discontent among our soldiers.
Edward Atkinson is exceedingly fortu
nate that an old-fashioned Democrat like
Andrew Jackson is not in the white
house. “Old Hickory” knew a traitor
when he saw one, and were he alive to
day he would have the Boston inciter of
insurrection taken out and shot. As a
student of history Mr. Atkinson will re
call the fate of Alexander Arbuthnot, a
Scotch trader, and Robert Ambrister, a
young English lieutenant of marines.
Arbuthnot was hanged from the yard arm
of hi.- own ship, and Ambrister was shot,
Jackson setting aside the verdict of the
courtmartial, which sentenced him to re
ceive fifty lashes and a year's imprison
ment.
In justification of his severity President
Jackson said; “My God would not have
smiled on me had I punished only the
poor, ignorant savages and spared the
white men who set them on.”
Arbuthnot and Ambrister were ailens,
hut they paid the death penalty for their
conspiracy against the peace and welfare
of the United States. What little pa
tience Jackson would have had with an
American who was so dead to every pa
triotic impulse as to plot to spread dis
cord among the troops defending his
country’s flag! All the influences that
wealth and position could summon would
not save him from expiating his crime.
President McKinley seems inclined to
deal leniently -with the defiant Atkinson.
At least an indictment might bring this
smallest of the “small Americans” to a
better understanding of his peril. The
law provides that every person who in
cites rebellion or insurrection against the
authority of the United States shall, upon
conviction, be punished by imprisonment
for not more than ten years or be fined
not more than J10.000, or be subject to
both of such punishments, and shall be
adjudged incapable of holding any office
under the United States.
Mr. Atkinson announces that he is do
ing a patriotic service and will continue
the reaper’s blade.
Why So Many People Fail.
Elbert Hubbard tells why, most effect
ively, in The Philistine. No man, he says,
who has endeavored to carry out an en
terprise where many hands were needed,
hut has been well nigh appalled at times
by the imbecility of the average man—
the inability or unwillingness to concen
trate on a thing and do it. Slip-shod as
sistance, foolish inattention, dowdy in
difference and half-hearted work seem the
rule, and no man succeeds unless by hook
or crook or threat he forces or bribes oth
er men to assist him; or mayhap, God in
His goodness performs a miracle and sends
him an Angel of Light for an assistant.
You, reader, put this matter to a test:
You are sitting now in your office—six
clerks are within call. Summon any one
and make this request: “Please look in
the encyclopedia and make a brief mem
orandum for me concerning the life of
Correggio.”
Will the clerk quietly say, “Yes, sir,”
and go do the task?
On your life he will not. He will look
at you out of a fishy eye and ask one
or more of the following questions:
Who was he?
Which encyclopedia?
Where is the encyclopedia?
Was I hired for that?
Don’t you mean Bismarck?
What is the matter with Churlie doing
it?
Is he dead?
Is there any hurry?
Shan't I bring you the hook and lei
you look it up yourself?
What do you want to know for?
And I will lay you ten to one that after
you have answered the questions, and
explained how to find the information,
and why you want it, the clerk will go
off and get one of the other clerks to
help him try to find Garcia, and then
come back and tell you that there is no
such man. Of course I may lose my bet,
but according to the law of average, I
will not.
Now, If you are wise you will not bother
to explain to your “assistant" that Cor
reggio is indexed under the C’s, not in the
K's, but will smile sweetly and say,
“Never mind,” and go look it up your
self.
And this incapacity for independent ac
tion, this moral stupidity, this infirmity
of the will, this unwillingness to cheer
fully catch hold and lift, are the things
that put pure Socialism so fur into the
future. If men will not act for themselves
what will they do when the benefit of
their effort is for all? A first mate with
knotted club seems necessary; and the
dread of getting “the bounce” Saturday
night holds many a worker to his place.
Save the Birds.
Mme. Lilli Lehmann, the world-famous
opera singer, was one of the speakers at
the annual meeting of the Audubon soci
ety held recently in New York city. She
asked to have the following appeal made
in her name to women everywhere:
“I beg all women and girls not to wear
birds or birds' feathers on their hats any
more. Every year 25,000,000 of useful
birds are slaughtered by this terrible fol
ly. The farmers are already suiferlng
from it, and women enjoy wearing feath
ers like savages. Flowers and ribbons
are a thousand times more beautiful and
more becoming. It is the duty of every
woman and man to battle against this
gruesome folly. For years my hats have
had no feathers.”
Mme. Lehman said that every person
could do something toward protecting the
birds. They could teach themselves and
their children what humanity meant, and
how much of human interest and loveli
ness there was in bird life. To be of ser
vice in this cause men and women must
feel a sympathy for the birds.
“I am sorry to learn,” said Mme. Leh
mann, “that there are no places in Cen
tral park expressly for the purpose of
feeding birds. I have eight places in my
gardens, where the birds may come and
be fed, and they get just what they like.”
The Persecution of De*ey.
A New York paper wisely asks what
has Admiral Dewey done since he de
stroyed the Spanish fleet that on his re
turn, weary with arduous service, he
must be hauled to banquets innumerable,
bombarded with speeches to which he
must listen without yawning, and forced
to ruin whatever is left of his digestion
by untimely wining and dining?
Cannot an advanced civilization invent
some less barbaric device than that of a
public dinner as a means of testifying
its admiration? Must it always make a
victim of the man it desires to honor?
And as for speeches, is repletion after all
the best instigator of oratory, a surfeit
the prerequisite of eloquence? Or Is It only
that the public dinner furnishes ambi
tious orators with the audience which if
not fastened down by good-humored stu
pefaction would take to its heels?
1\ e must honor Dewey, of course, and
no demonstration of welcome can be
other than inadequate as an expression
of the affection and admiration all his
countrymen feel for him. But what a pity
it is that we cana«>t find some better
means than the menu!
teaching one how to work with his hands
in honest and useful ways, and with all
this the need of moral training is strongly
urged. A great deal has been done for
the negro, but the task is formidable, and
must be so for years to come. The south
has done much for the colored man since
the war, and Is devising still better help.
The colored man has done something for
his own improvement, and it requires
only a reasonable degree of co-operation
on all sides to meet the difficulty with
hopefulness and encouragement.
An Old Landmark.
It gives us special pleasure to welcome
back to Atlanta one of her oldest and
best citizens, the Rev. J. F. Reeves. He
was for a long time the loved pastor of
the Third Baptist church in this city, and
was succeeded by that grand man known
and loved by all the world, Rev. 11. C.
Hornady. He went to south Georgia and
has for many years been a power in all
that portion of the state. We are delight
ed to see his old, familiar face on our
streets again.
BILL ARP’S LETTER.
The Trouble Down South.
A Michigander asks the Housekeeper at
Minneapolis if there is much trouble now
between the negroes and white people,
and that excellent home magazine replies
in this fair and correct manner:
“Openly and secretly there is a great
deal of trouble. Certain of the states have
disfranchised the negro, and in several
other states he must walk very straight,
much straightcr than is required of the
white man. Whether this be just or un
just, it appears to very many to be com
pelled by the situation. Strenuous efforts
are making on the part of southern phil
anthropists, Christians and intelligent
citizens generally, to discover how best
to dea! with the grave problem. The lead
ers concur fairly well in recommending
education for the mind, hand and heart.
They favor the common English school,
reading, spelling, writing, and the simpler
rules in arithmetic, and the industrial
school, either separate or combined,
Selfishness.
Are not railroads and railroad men sel-
RkI? Is not the cry of Populists and
ether of evil warranted by the
facts? Those questions strike at tho mo
tive of all human action. How much of
that which has been done for '.>*» world
was accomplished solely in a. philan
thropic and altruistic spirit? There are
degrees and varieties of selfishness. There
is at the one extreme the narrow, sordid,
stupid selfishness which cannot see be
yond the momentary apparent profit or
pleasure of the individual; and at the
other that broader principle and active
policy which realize that the success,
prosperity and happiness of the individual
arc bound up in that of the people, and
can best serve self when serving others.
The Christian doctrine of charity and
helpfulness in some lights seems merely
the highest form of selfishness.—American
Lumberman.
“Slimpurse is a great financier.”
“Financier?
“Yes. He can make two silver quarters
rattle in his poeketbook so you will think
he has five or six dollars.”
I am not happy. Some months ago I
wrote to our Yankee friends that If they
were gentlemen they would apologize for
all they done to us during that devilish
war and after. I never received but one
letter on that line, and that was from a
native born Federal soldier, who said he
was friendly, and that if I would write
out an apology and send it to him he
would sign it. He seemed to be properly
repentant. And now comes this editor of
The New York Herald down here to in
vestigate our lynching business and to
philosophize upon it. and he says the
north made a mistake in giving the ne
gro the right of suffrage, but he doesn’t
apologize. He was one of the prime lead
ers in the whole business and speaks of
it as a mistake. It was no mistake. Tt was
malicious ignorance, and why doesn’t he
say so? It has taken him and his folks
thirty years to find out they knew but
little about us, and nothing about the
negro. Senator Ingalls has got more
sense and more candor. He came down
to Texas ten years ago to investigate
and went home and wrote a letter in
which he said the negro was not fit for
the ballot, and that the north had made
ail egregious blunder in giving it to him.
He didn’t apologize, but he came pretty
near it.
Now, a mistake doesn’t involve any
moral turpitude, but a malicious blun
der does. The time has passed for any
more truckling. The stage of desperation
is upon the south and political humility
to the north has passed. We have never
felt that humility, but our politicians
have preached it and tried to get some
thing from the public crib by pretending
we were humble when we were not.
The truth is that the north is. responsi
ble for every outrage and every lynch
ing at the south. Here is The Atlanta
Age, a negro paper that is published by
W. A. Pledger, that copies every vene-
mous article from the New York papers
about the Sam Hose business, and
Pledger writes to the New York Sun that
he is shocked at Governor Candler’s ut
terances. and he .says the good negroes at
the south are opposed to these outrages
on our women. The paper is pregnant
with comment on the lynching. I reckon
that is all right, for the liberty of the
press must not be restricted. But never
theless these utterances from Pledger’s
paper go through the educated negro ele
ment and settle its convictions and there
by comes some more outrages and some
RICHARD HARDING DAVIS AND HIS BRIDE.
She Was Miss Cecil Clark, Daughter of a Wealthy Chicago Family, and Her Union With the Brilliant
Young Novelist Is a Source of Gratification to Their Many Friends.
Sidney Lanier’s Passion For
Music.
It is well known, says the Literary Di
gest, that Sidney Lanier, “the most im
portant native singer the southern United
States has produced,” was possessed of
a passion for music almost stronger than
his devotion to poetry. His best-known
critical work, “The Science of English
Verse,” is an attempt to prove a close re
lationship between these two sister arts.
It is with distinct interest, then, that we
read, in the May Scribner’s Magazine, a
series of extracts from Lanier’s letters,
from which we gather some sense of the
power music possessed for this sensitive
nature. In the first letter, speaking of
some person not named, Lanier writes:
“ ... . She is right to cultivate mu
sic, to cling to it; it is the only reality
left in the world for her, and many an
other like her. It will revolutionize the
world, and that not long hence. Let her
study it intensely, give herself to it, en
ter the very innermost temple and sanct
uary of it. . . . The altar steps are
wide enough for all the world, and music
inquires not if the worshiper be vestal or
stained, nor looks to see what dust of
other shrines is upon the knees that bend
before her. She is utterly unconscious of
aught but love, which pardons all things
and receives all natures into the warmth
of its bosom.”
Again, writing from New York to his
wife, after he had just come from tho
“Tempest.” Here is an extract from his
letter:
“In one interlude between the scenes
we had a violin solo, adagio, with soft
accompaniment by orchestra. As the fair,
tender notes came, they opened. . . .
like flower-buds expanding into flowers
under the sweet rain of the accompani
ment; kind heaven! My head fell on the
seat in front, I was utterly weighed down
with great loves and great ideas and di
vine inflowings and devout outfiowings,
and as each note grew and budded and
opened, and became a bud again and died
into a fresh birth in the next bud-note.
I also lived these flower-tone lives, and
grew and expanded and folded back and
died and was born again, and partook of
the unfathomable mysteries of flowers
and tones.”
“BILL ARP’S” BOOK
FOR SIXTY CENTS.
For only sixty cents The Sunny South
will mail to any address the "History of
Georgia,” by Major Charles H. Smith—
’ Bill Arp.”
The history deals with Georgia as a
colony and a state, from 1733 to 1S93. It
has chapters devoted to Oglethorpe, the
original grant and its changes, Ogle
thorpe’s charter, the earliest settlements,
the progress of the colony, the Spanish
invasion, the administration of William
Stephens, the surrender of the charter,
the administration of Reynolds, the ad
ministration of Ellis, the administration
of Wright, Georgia in the revolutionary
war, the Yazoo fraud, the great seal of
the state, the war of 1S12, Clark, Troup,
Gilmer, Lumpkin and Schley, the Mexican
war, Cobb and Johnson, Joseph E. Brown,
the war between tfie states, the close of
the war, reconstruction, Jenkins. Bullock.
Colquitt. Smith and McDaniel. Then
there are historical readings embracing
the African slave trade—its origin and
growth; the condition of the negro as a
slave, why Georgia withdrew from the
Union, the common people and the aris
tocracy, the literature of Georgia and the
condition of the state. There are several
maps and full page pictures of Ogle
thorpe. Robert Toombs, Joseph E. Brown,
Alex. H. Stephens, C. J. Jenkins, John B.
Gordon, the new capitol, W. J. Northen,
Chas. F. Crisp and Hoke Smith, besides
mtiny other illustrations.
The whole book is of inestimable value
as a history. It is as readable as a ro
mance, and no intelligent Georgian should
be without it. It is a condensed library
of state history and costs only 60 cents!
It brings out the fact that General Grant
was a slave owner and lived off their hire.
It gives a burning review of the old aboli
tion leaders and their disloyal utterances.
It is a complete vindication of Georgia
and of the old south.
It is just the hook for Bill Arp’s admir
ers, and they will pronounce it worth ten
times the price asked for it. Order it
while you have the opportunity.
Forty-Eight Female Lawyers.
We learned through Harper’s Bazar re
cently that a law class of forty-eight wo
men had just been graduated from the
New York university. It is now nine years
since this course was introduced, yet the
public is just beginning to understand
and appreciate its purpose. Its aim is
not to make lawyers out of women, but
to give them a practical knowledge of
the laws which concern them, especially
in the direction of the management of
property.
Most of the women who have taken the
course have had no idea of following the
law as a profession. Helen Gould was one
of the graduates several years ago. In
tiiis year’s class were such women as Mrs.
Washington Roebling, vice-president of
Sorosis and the wife of the famous en
gineer; Mrs. Bonner, the wife of the pub
lisher; Miss Bessie Schlesinger, the
daughter of a banker; Mrs. McKelway,
wife of the editor of the Brooklyn Eagle;
a daughter of ex-Mayor Gilroy, a daugh
ter of Justice Leonard, of the supreme
court, a daughter of Chancellor Mac-
Cracken, and other women of wealth and
of position. About one-fourth of the num
ber were married women who have, or
are likely to have, property to manage.
The graduates from the university are
by no means all the New York women
who have been studying the laws which
govern the transaction of business. There
are other classes, composed in several
instances of rich women, who meet in
one another’s drawing-room, quite as if
they constituted a sewing society, or any
thing else traditionally feminine. They
ha\e an accredited lawyer as an instruct
or. and are said to be bright and inter
ested pupils.
Smith Clayton writes very interesting
ly now-a-days for the Atlanta Journal.
Smith is a fearless writer and tells the
truth every pop.
more lynchings. New York niggers come
out in their papers and advise the Hhot-
gun and the torch in retaliation, and those
things are copied in the nigger papers at
the south. a .
But here is the comfort: Lncle bam is
still helping me in my garden and doesn t
know and doesn’t care anything about
all this business. He says he was born
a slave, and for thirty years has been
a freeman, and has always found that
if a colored man done his duty the white
man done his. Uncle Sam has a large
family and through these republican in
fluences they have been corrupted and
demoralized, and he has a lot of gran',
children who don’t know their own la
ther, and the old man is grieved.
I was ruminating about all this and how
these negroes have all been fooled about
Grant and Lincoln being their friends and
were fighting to free them, when there
is not a word of truth in it. Neither or
them cared a continental dime for the
negro, and both of them were more con
cerned about their own successes than
anything else. But T have had great re
gard for Lincoln. He was a much better
man than his party, and his death was a
calamity to the south. I have recently
received a little volume entitled “The
Genesis of Abraham Lincoln.” It is care
fully and affectionately written by James
H. Cathey, of western North Carolina,
and its unprejudiced perusal will convince
any man that Abraham Lincoln was the
son of Abraham Enloe, and that Nancy
Hanks was a good orphan girl who serv
ed in Enloe’s family. The affidavits and
other evidences establish this beyond dis
pute. Old Father Abraham Enloe was a.
second Abraham and poor Nancy Hanks
a second Hagar, and for the same reason
she was sent away from the paternal
homestead to keep peace in the family.
The father of her child had great regard
for her and placed her with his relatives
in Kentucky, where she afterwards mar
ried Thomas Lincoln. Some of the wit
nesses to these facts are now ninety years
o!.I. ar.rt S^- ro passed aii desire to dec five
anykey. The descendants of this Enloe
family are numerous and their testimony
has been taken from North Carolina,
Missouri and Texas, and all confirm the
story. Ail the very old people in western
North Carolina were familiar with tine
girl Nancy Hanks and the Enloe family,
and old Enloe’s acknowledgment of th<}
child’s paternity and why he sent this
modern Hagar and her Ishmael away.
But this is no new thing. During tho
war it was talked of in the army and
Lincoln was denounced by the entire Todd
family, into which he married. Fifteen
years ago, while I sojourned in western
North Carolina, I found the story cur
rent that Lincoln was the son of Abra
ham Enloe and was named for him by
his mother, Nancy Hanks. Now Mr. Ca
they writes a pretty little hook about it,
and his excuse is that the truth cannot
hurt the living or the dead; that Abraham
Lincoln was America’s most remarkable
man. and there should be no attempt
to cloud the life of a real hero. Cicero
says that the first law of history is that
it should neither dare to say anything
that is false nor fear to say anything that
Is true.
It is therefore the sole purpose of this
little hook to prove that this wonderful
man was not without ancestors. Ilfs
mother was Nancy Hanks. If he was the
son of a worthy sire, the world is enti
tled to know who that sire was, whence
he came and what his characteristics.
The custodians of this history of Abra
ham Lincoln are numbered by scores and
hundreds of the first people—men and wo
men of western North Carolina, for the
Enloes were a large and Influential fam
ily, and their descendants have intermar
ried with many distinguished people. But
I do not propose to review the book. It
is an interesting and remarkable revela
tion, and is written by an enthusiastic
admirer of Mr. Lincoln, and establishes
beyond question h!s paternity. Abraham
Enloe was himself an extraordianry man
—the father of thirteen children: and his
photographic likeness to this particular
son is very striking, both in form and
feature. Both were the same height and
had the same long, unshapely limbs.
This little book of 175 pages was written
by James R. Cathey, of Bryson City, N.
C., and is kind in motive and classic in
style. I thought when I first opened it
that perhaps it had better not have been
written, but on its perusal I believe that
it is better for the whole truth to be told
than that this remarkable man’s genesis
should continue to be uncertain and un
known.
I am now trying to solve another prob
lem—the problem of how best to destroy
the potato bug or beetle. Last year I tried
Paris green, and was not satisfied. I am
now knocking them off morning and even
ing and hoeing the ground around the
plants, and think that I have whipped
the fight. This will do for the garden,
hut not for the field. Professor Starnes
will tell us a better way. I hope, for he
is a scientific genius and the most enthu
siastic experimenter I have ever met. Last
week I visited the experiment station at
Athens, of which he has charge, and was
delighted with the progress he has made
on the university farm. He is absorbed
in his work, and I am sure he will make
it a great success.
"How is it,” said I to him, "that you
can be so enthusiastic over something
that you do not own and never will?” He
smiled and said:
“Six years’ work in this business at
Griffin and here has created within me an
absorbing love for it. and I feel like this
little farm and garden and orchard were
all mine. My ambition Is not only to make
it a success practically, but to benefit the
people by improved methods and by rem
edies for the failures and disasters that
are incident to the profession.”
He has now ten pupils under him, and
expects to have half a hundred in Au
gust. I hope the state will encourage him
in his good work, for. like Smithson, his
desire is to disseminate knowledge among
men. BILL ARP.
BABY HANDS.
Dear little baby hands so white,
I press them close in my own tonight
Ar.d sigh as I think of the coming years
■With all their sorrows, griefs and tears.
And many serious thoughts arise
As I gaze into baby’s stveet blue eyes.
M ill these little hands do valiant work
And life’s stern duties never shirk?
For truth and honor will they tight,
And ever be on the side of right?
So soft and fair, like a snowflake now.
Will they some day press an aching brow
And be weary and worn with life’s tur
moil.
Hard and rough from busy toil?
Could I but trace in these delicate lines
A destiny that brighter shi nes,
As time shakes out life’s golden sands
I would not fear for these little hands.
But the world is full of evil snares.
Which Satan for each one prepares,
Temptations lurk on every side.
Worldly ambition, lust and pride.
May my darling’s hands bring blessings
bright,
And till the world with joy and light;
™'?. y . tl \ ey be upheld by that mighty One
rill toil is o er and the battle is done
_ , Du BOIS LIPSCOMB.
Belzona, Miss.