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1. EDITORIAL PAGE nan ^ \ .* — '--V THE SUNNY SOUTH H MAY n, ISC7. X5he SUNNY SOUTH Published Weekly by popular feature of The Sunny South. It is to be called “The Open House,” and an open house it will be—open to full and frank expression of opin ion on that wide variety of topics which find their focus about the hearthstone, .whether in sunny Sunny South Publifhing Co Florida or the far latitudes of Maine. 8 usine/s Office THE CONSTITUTION BUILDING ATLANTA, GEORGIA Rassred sc the peeteflre thug*L»«»—* «»— ■»” — 1 *— March 13, lVOl * The Saury Smuts (j the oldest meekly paper ef Literature, ttomaace. Pa A and Plrtloa la the South * It la nem re. stored to the original shape and mill he published as form eterly emery eseek Pounded In tSTS It gram until 1899. mhen, as a monthly. Its form mas changed as an experts meat & St nom returns le Its original formation as a meekly mlth renemed vigor and the Intention of ecllpes lag Its most promising period In the past. Hail and Farewell FFECTIVE with the current issue The Sunny South discontinues pub lication under that title. It will be merged with Uncle Remus s Maga zine, the subscribers to The Sunny South having their subscriptions to the latter completed by the new corporation. Uncle Remus's begins publication with the largest bona fide circulation of any magazine ever established in the history of periodicals. It stretches from Maine to California and the Great Lakes to the gulf. It includes every clast of patron, from the man on the R. F. D. route, remote from what is called civilization, to the- reader in the city, his, library table well supplied with the latest periodicals. The first issue Is already on the press and the editor of the present Sunny South confidently assures the readers that they can anticipate a magazine which will compare admirably with the high class output of eastern es tablishments. The scope of Uncle Remus’s has been outlined too often to require reiteration. It is to embrace the features that have made The Sunny South a houshold favorite, though they will be broadened so that the taste of the entire nation will find ample fulfillment. The south of today needs a champion in the magazine field. The daily papers cannot discharge the full task of exploitation and publicity. In their hurry and bustle of preparing the diurnal quota of news, the larger mission of forwarding the section’s material welfare must be more or less neg lected. This is where the magazine which Joel Chandler Harris is to edit will be of infinite use fulness. The south, moreover, has a picturesque side, and one breathing traditions, which is worthy of careful and intelligent attention. More than any other section of the nation, it stands for the sturdy original stock of the Anglo-Saxon race which has been called the hope of the republic, and which is credited with the substantial achievements which have made America foremost in the roster of world- powers. This, too, will furnish a vital function to the new magazine. That which is best and most progressive in southern life and literature will be presented in its pages. The editorials, by Mr. Harris, touching a vein of optimism and mature philosophy, will be absolutely unique in the range of American period icals. Mr. Harris will also contribute short stories and serials of the sort that have carried his name to the reading public the world over. While he is surrounded by a staff of the most competent assistants in the current literary world, his word wilf be the final law as to everything that enters the pages of the magazine, inclusive even of advertising. Writers of national and international fame, artists who are known in this country and Europe, will lend their best talent that the south may produce a magazine entitled to rank with the best of those issuing from the presses of the east. Many of the authors that have made reputations on The Sunny South will be retained for Uncle Re mus’s and will continue to interest the large clinetele they have built up on this periodical. Foremost among these is Mary Edwards Bryan. This gifted woman, who has wielded a pen of force and rare sympathy since early girlhood, has charge of a department on the new magazine very similar to The Household, which she has made the most She has that unusual quality of magnetism which brings out the best in her audience, while illuminat ing every subject into the consideration of which she skillfully guides her readers. She is essentially of a temeprament in tone with the policy of the new magazine. Optimistic, believing the best of those with whom she is brought into contact, conceding evil only as good taking a vacation, and withal the possessor of a graphic narrative style which clothes with fascination each line as it comes from her pen, we believe she is destined to mafke “The Open House” one of the most discussed features of Uncle Remus’s. We bespeak for the new periodical the earnest support of all those whose loyalty has made possi ble the successful career of The Sunny South. They will find their support richly repaid. A WORD IN RETROSPECT W HEN tte victims were brought into the Roman arena to do battle with wild beasts, it was the custom for them to kneel humbly be fore the Imperator with the obsequious phrase, “Great Caesar, we who are about to die, salute thee!” The eidtor of the passing Sunny South is not precisely in this frame of mind, as the last issue goes to press, but he seizes the privi lege of speaking one word in retrospective to" those who have so loyally aided his endeavors on this periodical It has been a rare pleasure to guide the destinies of The Sunny Souitih. The responsi bilities have been many. The rewards have been commensurate. It has ever been the effort to pub lish such matter as would interest the wide diver sity of readers who have come to regard' the paper with a sort of loving proprietory interest. Some times that effort has been successful, as is evi denced by many letters of commendation on file in this office. At other times, we have been in receipt of criticism, healthful in its shaprness, friendly in its tone, rarely of a surly or an incurably pessimis tic nature. The editor has come to feel a personal interest in each one of the contributors to the peri odical under his supervision. The bond of cor respondence has made him many friends, none the less genuine and helpful, for the fact that he may never see them in the flesh. The three columns re served for editorial expression, have afforded him special pleasure. It has given him the opportunity, not often taken by the conventional publication, to push those ideas and movements too often taken for granted and, therefore, ignored. In those columns, he has done his feeble best to preach the gospel of hope and of trust and of Jfetred of scorn and pretense. He has hit a blow at hypoc risy and deceit whenever it showed its face. He has attempted, so far as lay within his province, to do battle for the great cause of morality, whether it was expressed in the sacred realm of the home, or the no less important adjunct of public life. It has ever been his theory that the strong as well as the weak needed a defender. That those who often ap pear strongest to the world, are most in need of the world’s sympathy from the additional burdens en tailed bv their very strength. He ,has sought to preach, too, the doctrine of physical right living, sunshine and fresh air, and purity in thought and deed. It has been his effort to show that without faith in each other, without courage to grapple with the large and petty annoy ances of life (and frequently the petty annoyances are those which are the mpst hurtful.) without a hope that the joys of the morrow would outweigh the trials of today, life would resolve itsdf into a sor did thing hardly worth the labor we expend in tak ing air into our lungs. If he has benefited any of his readers, if he has given them a moment’s diversion, if he has helped one man or one woman to look with clearer eyes and firmer faith upon heaven and their fellow be ings, this labor has not been without its reward. And so, pardoning this descent into something perilously near egotism, he puts a period for the time being to the awesome and all-pervading edito rial “we.” The Sunny South bids its friends a cordial, grate ful farewell! The Story of The Sunny South By MART B. BRYAN. CHILL rain is falling-; I* is dreary for' a night in May. I draw near the cheerful fire. before be ginning my last chat for The Sunny South House hold. It seems just as on that night In the past winter when 1 sat for the last time at the hearth 08 my old home— in the satne place where ' I had, sat years before rocking my baby boy— whom I saw only at night, being in the office all day—until he dept, then tak ing my pen to write an editorial, story or Household chat for (he paper—this same paper that passes’ from me now as my old home has passed. The Sunny South was young then and I had come from Louisiana full of youthful enthusiasm to help launch the hazardous venture. It was a fine craft—a large, beautiful illustrated paper—and the people, the dear South ern people, welcomed it with pride and determined to sustain it. But they were poor, crushed in the struggle of little more than a dozen years before, and the paper was three dollars a year, all printing material being thus very costly, no cheap engraving meth ods in existence and no syndicates to supply literary matter and illustra tions at low prices. Colonel Seals had put his last cent in the enterprise; he had energy, talent and magnetism, but the “success of war” was lacking, his coadjutators understood the situation and gave their services for a minimum of pay. The people entered into the spirit of the enterprise—^as an effort to upbuild southern literature—and the best writers in the south sent free con tributions. Men of professional and official distinction wrote for the paper and the literary standard was kept high. Its young women agents (bright girls from good families), in their travels from Virginia to Mexico, were royally treated and helped in their work by citizens of influence. The situation was certainly unique. NO OTHER PUBLICATION HAS SUCH A HISTORY. But the fight was hard, many times the battle seemed lost, when some un expected help would save the day. Sal aries were nearly nil, but the work was inspiring—and how I did work in those days! We wanted everything original, but couldn’t pay for original matter, so I wrote stories and sketches, also letters from abroad (?) under fic titious names, and kept a serial run ning under an assumed title as well as one in my own name; and wrote sketches and stories to go with illus trations; second hand cuts from Kng- land or from the north. On the edi torial staff, also, was Prof. L. L. Veaz- ey, whose good work was almost a labor of love. \ My enthusiasm for the paper’s suc cess did not flag until after the deqth of the friend who had chiefly inspired it—Colonel Seals' devoted wife. She was his right hand in every mechanical detail. As head of the mailing de partment she worked far beyond her strength and died truly a sacrifice to the "Cause.” A SACRIFICE TO THE CAU8E. When she was gone I lost interest for a while in Tim Sunny South. It wsls now on tX flrrfJkjppting, issipd in | The Saving Grace of Fred’s Love j A 4 I r LI.-- r lfa.’okAee • For His Little Neighbor By MAGARET A. RICHARD. be prepared one often needs to act immediately when one of these little ones is ill.” Something in his decision of manner; in the kindness and calmness of his voice, reassured Fred, and made him feel that it was, perhaps, better that the other doctors bad been away and that Dr. Foster was th e only one to be found that evening. When they had reached Mrs. Morton’s home, and the doctor had gone into tne sick room, to the relief of every one there. Fred found her I a place on the settee in the hall, where motheV’s home. She had | he rested in semi-darkness. How long he always rejoiced at 1 bad lai„ there h e scarcely knew, for sight of him. even he had dozed and dreamed a little, and was far on his way to dreamland again. O WONDER that Fred Tindal loved so well the dimpled baby next door. She was such a winsome little thing, and from the first her heart semed to go out to the rough laddie who came sometimes errands It extends to “Uncle Remus's” and a hearty, ringing 1 , “Top o’ the Momin’!” a joyous “Hail!” Birds and the BooRs That Have ^ ^ Been Written About Them ^ ^ By “THE MISSUS.” EEING so many members ara Interested in the study of birds and ask ing for information as to the best books to get, I thought perhaps 1 might lend some assist ance by telling of the books we have and where they can be had, as far as we know. Some ara out of print and cannot be had at any price. Wood's Natural History treats of all branches of the animal world, but the birds are most of them foreign to us and the work is rather out of date. The price is SI.50. "Bingley's Animal Kingd;ynih<Js also general in its scope, but is mJKr larger than Wood’s, and we like It much bet ter. The author seems better posted. The only copy I ever sa^_i found In an old book store, and purWT&sed It for $2.50, although It probably sold for S5 or SB. It is not on the market, to my knowledge. "Hawks and Owls of the United States” is a magnificent work, put out by tha government several years ago. It Is out of print and cannot be had at book stores. Fortunate indeed is the possessor of a copy of tIUs volume, with every species in colored plate, for the colors and altitudes of the various birds are the nearest correct of any work X have ever seen. "Birds of Michigan,” by Cooke, is a superb little work (also out of print), describing the birds found in that state. "Birds of the Northwest.” by Coves, Is another government work much to be prized if one is lucky enough to get hold of s copy, long since out of print "Nests and Eggs of Birds of the Unit ed States," by Gentry, is a large, ex pensive valums (417) with Xull-pags colored plates, but it Is far from com plete and we do not think it worth the price. Too much can hardly be said of Studer's "Birds of North America," a very large volume showing every known bird in North America in col ors, with its habits, as far as known. There are over 700 In all, and while some are a little over-colored and many rather small, In order to get all In one volume, the book Is well worth the price, MB, If one can afford It. It gives an excellent Idea of .the birds In their native haunts, showing 7B8 spe cies hnd sub-species. This book was given to me as a birthday present two years ago. and to say it was thorough ly appreciated is putting it mildly. It was shipped to me direct from the publishers and since then I’ve received several offers from them to ship "dam aged” ooples for SIS. The "damaged” copies are just as serviceable as the high priced ones, and it takes an ex pert to tell the difference, usually. It is published by the Natural Science As sociation of America, 114 Fifth ave nue, New York. “Jordan's Manual of Vertebrate Ani mals” is a very helpful and authentic work describing birds, mammals, rep tiles, etc., having a backbone. While it is not illustrated and doesn't name all species. It is indeed well worth the S2, and I can heartily recommend it to any who can classify by analy sis. “Cove's Key to North American Birds.” is an exhaustive work giving the analysis of all North Amarlcan birds. The price, $7.50, Is only in keeping with its good qualities, and I heartily recommend it. We do not have this book in our collection, and I only mention it that those desiring the very best of its kind may know what to inquire for. T iree books of which I am very pro, d were given me by my father years ago. -aey, too, are government works, out of print and cannot be had at any price. One descritfes birds, another mammals snd the third treats or both. Every bird is so minutely de scribed in these, feather by feather, al most, that there is no chance for mis taking them. Aside from these works we have many smaller ones devoted to particu lar species or families. Walter F. Webb, 202 Westminster road, Roches ter, N. Y., can most likely secure you any book to be had. We used to take several bird maga zines and had hundreds of them on hand, but have long since disposed of them to dealers. As to the bird of mystery, you are sure, dear M. E. B., that it has no orthodox name?. Every species of bird inhabit ing the United States east of the Mis sissippi has long since been hunted out and named by scientists, and I’ll ven ture the assertion that this is only a common bird if it were actually brought to light. Nearly every bird bas some peculiar note or habit, that changes with the season and that the ordinary observer knows nothing about. Many birds cry out in the night, and one that makes a profession of sing ing In the night and that is seldom, if ever, seen, owing to its sly, retreating habits, is the yellow-breasted chat. His notes are as rambling and varied as tbe mockingbird's, and he has that power of ventriloquism that leads one on and on. for rods, searching every bush and' brush pile, without success, and the bird was perhaps high over head. He is built very much like the mockingbird, .but smaller, and utters the queerest notes, whistling, bark ing, cawing an£ “chatting” of perhaps any bird, and at all hours. They were our constant companions In the moun tains of Arkansas, yet we rarely got to see one. . ■ We would like a minute description of the notes, whether loud or soft, how many times repeated, whether It seems a large or small bird; is it musical, does it come from the lowlands or up lands, or from the woods, and how many times in one evening. It may be familiar to us. The raincrow does not whistle hut utters a kind of croak at intervals less expensive form and at a popular price. For the first time I seriously considered the pressing need there was that I should better myself financially, and I accepted an offer from a pub lisher In New York and made that city my home for several years, still, how ever, keeping in touch with my old love—The Sunny South—writing for it whenever I could and allowing it to reproduce my serial stories before they appeared as books. The paper had meantime undergone changes. It had passed by purchase from Colonel Seals to The Constitution Publishing Company, and it was edited until his death by Colonel Henry Fair- man, then for a time by Mr. James Holliday and Colonel Seals. When I came to it again, “after long years,” there was a new literary head, the present young and able incumbent who signs himself “the Managing Editor,” and with whom my relations have been congenial and pleasant. I had other—financially better—lit erary outlooks, but I longer for the old familiar place with its informality and its heart-warmth. I had myself es tablished the Household feature of The Sunny South a few years after the pa per began. From the first It was I popular department, and it soon gath ered around it some of the brightest intellects and some of the jolliest as well as some of the tenderest and most sympathetic spirits. When I left the paper the Household passed Into the excellent care of Miss Lizzie O. Thom as, one of its very earliest contribu tors. There was widespread regret when she went as a missionary to Ja pan. She was succeeded by Miss Jose phine Davidson, and then by Miss Caro line Mahoney, whose HI health obliged her to give up the good work she was doing. The department was nearly ex tinct when I came to it., but a little spark of the old-time spirit quickened it into life and activity soon in its scope it embraced all the southern states and extended north into Canada and west into the territories and Mex ico. We have members in all of these; also some are in South America and the Philippines—a large family truly—numbering nearly a thousand In all, among them writers of ability and research, writers with literary cul ture, and others, all untrained, but whose accounts of their home life, their neighbors, their experiences as teach ers (sometimes in the backwoods), as working girls, or as farmers and gar deners. were extremely interesting to all who have broad sympathy with their human brothers and sisters. BISQUE OF LOBSTER. (From The Washington Star.) This may be made from the pickings of the shells, saving the solid meat from tail and claws for a lobster a la New- 1 burg for supper. -Cover the shell, claws, etc., with two quarts of cold water to make the foundation for the soup. Lobster needs but little cooking after it lias once boiled, as long cooking tough ens. Heat two level tablespoon fuls but ter In -a saucepan with two level table- spoonfuls flour, cook until creamy, salt and pepper to taste, thin with two cups of the strained liquor, stirring smooth ly to avoid tumps. When thickened add the lobster pickings from the shells, let it simmer about five minutes, add a Continued on Last Pag* when she was a tiny babe, unable to do anything to ex press her gladness other than smile gleefully, and to wave her dimpled arms actively to and fro. It seemed she had learned the secret of perpet ual motion, and was trying to prove to Fred the fact of the discovery. At first he turned disdainfully froip such advances. Was Jie any sissy, he asked himself, to be occupied with a baby? Though her eyes always brigh tened at sight or him. he remained stolidly indifferent, and never lingered In her presence longer than an errand was done. One day, when he was alone with her, the little rattle she held In her hand fell tinkling to the floor, and she puckered her lips, as if for a cry. The boy hesitated a moment, then stooped and picked it up. "By Jiminy,” he thought, as he did so, "It must be awful jest to lie on one’s back all day, and be the same as having no arms and no legs at all.” Though he expressed himself thus crudely, the helplessness of babyhood had appealed to his heart, and there after he was not wholly indifferent to his next door neighbor, and even be came in time her devoted knight-er rant. She laughed aloud when the coveted toy was put into her hand, and her soft, pink fingers, coming in contact with Fred's, caught and held them for a moment with that clinging grasp peculiar to babyhood. It seemed a sort of plea for protection, and a latent manliness in the heart of the boy awoke, and responded to it, as he re solved to be henceforth her friend Hearing Mrs. Morton’s step outside at that moment, he had barely time to press the baby hand in avowal of this, and to turn hastily away when she entered the room. Seeing him so near the child’s cradle, she glanced sharply at him, feeling he. could be there only for mischief. But the little one seemed so safe and bright, that the mother repented of her suspicion, though she told herself she had reason enough to be suspicious of the boy. She sought to make amends for it( however, saying khuily: "She loves you, Fred. In her you have, in deed, an admiring-friend.” If she had expected any expression of appreciation form him be cause of her baby’s devotion, she would have been disappointed. But she did not expect it. and was not surprised when he -turned away with out a word, and left the room. She was surprised, however, when baby turned her eyes longingly toward the door through which he had gone, and then, when he did not reappear, sot up such a cry as proved her lungs in good condition, Fred heard, and was angry with himself that he felt an Impulse to go back, thus causing those tears to give place to smiles; and to feel again, per haps, the clinging touch of those helD- less baby fingers But. "Pshaw."', he exclaimed, drawing irfniself together with a jerk. “I must be a sissy aftei all, to think of passing away time with a baby! Wouldn’t the boys laugh if they knew?’’ And Just then one of “the boys’’ came around the corner, and, catching sight of Fred, called out; “Hello, old fellow, we’re going after hickorlest Don’t you want to join us?'* Fred did. of course. What boy would not? So, after carrying his mother a message from her neighbor, he was off, and thought no more of the baby next door until coming home late that evening he had to grope his way through a darkened house, stumbling, boy-fashion, over everything within reach. “Why, for goodness,” he asked, when he had reached the sitting room, "ain't there a lamp lit?” "’Cause,” answered the tearful voice of one of his little sisters, "mama Is over to Mrs. Morton’s, and cook is gone for the doctor, and we are here all by ourselves." Yes,” chimed in another voice, “Mrs. Morton’s baby is very sick, and I just believe It is going to die. Cook says everybody is got to die some time. Ain’t it awful t'o think about?” Fred stood silent for a few minutes, a feeling of awe having fallen upon him. Never before had death come so close to klm, and the thought that the little one he had so lately seen well, and rosy, was likely to die at any mo- ment stupefied him with dread. But not for long. Presently the resolution to do something took possession of him, and he asked huskily: "How long has cook been gone?” “Oh.” said Elsie, between sobs, “we don’t know! It seems ever and ever so long, and the doctor hasn’t come yet We have been watching at the window for him. I’m—I’m—afraid the baby is—is—dead." Her brother waite<j to hear no more, but groping his way again through the darkened hall, soon found himself in the street, where he breathed freer, though a great weight seemed resting upon his heart. Tears came to his eyes again and again, only to be dashed away each time. He was sorry, and was not ashamed to be sorry, that the little eyes which had smiled at him that morning might soon bfe closed in death; that the little fingers, which had clung so lovingly to his a few hours be fore, might soon be stiff and cold. He did not call himself a "sissy” now be cause of his sympathy with a baby, nor did he question within himself what “the boys” would say if they but knew. He knew only that h e was bent upon get ting a physician in the house next door as quickly as possible, which seemed, somehow, the one thing left for a boy to do In such an emergency. Never mind if the cook had already started; she was old and rheumatic and slow- Fast as his sturdy limbs could carry him he went to the nearest doctor's of fice, only to be told the physician had driven into the country. Then on again, to meet with disappointment once, nay!— even twice and thrice more, until he had to think what next to do. Then he remembered an old physician, who had given up much of his practice, and had moved his family to a suburban neighbor hood. It was some distance for a boy already tired and short of breath to go, but Fred did not pause; he only put forth renewed effort at thought of the distance, and of what <».-ery moment might mean toward the saving of a pre cious life. And his perseverance was re warded—for just as he reached the doc tor's home, his buggy was being driven Songs of the South By PIERRE LE BEAU. .BOUGHT up in the midst of books, surrounded by people of culture, heir to the glory of the hills of Georgia's Rome, coming Into young womanhood while yet the halo of Hayne. Tlmrod and La nier held the added lustra of their personalities, com ing into the estate of young womanhood just when she might have had unusual opportunities for the study of southern literary men ot genius, Miss Jennie Thronley Clarke was not an exception to the thousands who ..look to other parts of this broad world when a door near him opened and closed | fQr s , M tlent _ rfect worfc softly and voices were heard quite, ^ ^ were close to him. , . , . . _ * "She will do nicely now." the doctor southern poets to whom she had paid was saying:, "though there will be, prob- ***>’ thought, and, as she frankly con- ably, a twitching and jerking cf the mus- I fesses, the wealth and perfection of Sid- cles during the night. It was a severe convulsion in which I found fjer. and you cannot expect her to get well all at once.” And then Mrs. Morton spoke, though Fred scarcely recognized the voice as hers, it was so tearful and uncertain: “You savefi her life. Dr. Foster. No words can thank you for it." . . , , . . , , ... "Ah, no!” responded the man. "give ! 11 was not included in any of the anthol- that credit, rather, to the boy who ran ! ogies, 'because they were edited on the to me. weary and out of br ath. this ; northern side of Mason and Dixon’s line, evening, and brought me to you in the i Then it was that she resolved to edit nick of time. Had I been later, madam, j and publish a collection of southern (I will tell you since the danger Is past) verse. Collection of war songs had been your little one would scarcely have lived J,published before that, but the hymns through the night.” -of peace had gone "Uigamered. Though Fred did not like to be spo ® n | ^ gift for versification, a ripened cul ture, a gentle spirit and a quickened t o- I intellect she brought to her task. Wrtt- ney Lanier's work was first called to her attention during a visit to New England. (Naturally she began to appreciate him. In the summer of 1894 she was look ing industriously through volume after •volume in search of a popular southern , lyric, but was unable to find it. and upon l appeal to the librarian, she learned that * to concerning his part in saving the j child, he did not forget it. and had ever afterward a feeling of ownership ward the little one. It made no differ ence now what the boys might think, he was open in his love tor little Marie, and was often seen taking her to ride in her willow carriage. The fact that he still chose for his companions those who were known as the worst boys in town, and that he had hand to hand 1 fights with several of them for twitting him with his affection for his little charge, did not seem to argue that he was being softened by this mutual and unusual friendship. "By Jingo!” he said once, as be held a boy to the ground, while Marie look ed on, crowing with delight, as though it was being done for her entertainment, “Til show you I ain’t no ’nurse girl, if i do roll a baby carriage along the street. If I was one, could 1 lam you like that, and that, and that?” The under boy agreed he could not, and his black and blue face was a warning to his fellows to let Fred alone ,in regard to his attention to hat Morton baby,” as they called her. Those who were rash enough to twit him with it once never tried it a second time. Time passed on, and the little one thrived and grew, passing successfully through the various phases of teeth ing and baby ills human flesh is heir to, until she had reached and passed her second year. At this time not only Fred, but all who came within the radius of her influence, bowed In homage to the little queen. Her heart seemed so full of love, and she was so quick to make friends with strangers, that even the casual passer-by was on the lookout for her when passing the door, and many a heart was light ened for a day because of her smile and baby-greeting in the morning. Though all seemed to have a place in her affections, the preference was still for Fred; his was the name most often on hei( lipfi She had long ago learned in which direction his home was, and, standing on tip-toe at a win dow that faced that way, would call “Fed” so sweetly and so persistently that even a hard-hearted boy could not have failed to respond, and Fred was not hard-hearted—not so, by any means, where she was concerned. Though she exerted a sweet influ ence over him, and many were heard to say that a change for the bettei was taking place in the boy, he had not yet broken away fqom old habits and old associates. One Sabtfath he and some comrades, just at the time when the bells were calling the peo ple to morning service, started to the woods to play a game of chance. Our little hero knew it was wrong, and heard the voice of conscience urging him to turn back even then, but he resisted it, and seemed as gay as his companions. Now and again they met groups of persons on their way to church, and once one of the boys said jokingly to some friends: "Pray for the wicked this morning.” Something in the flippancy of the voice and speech Jarred on Fred, and his conscience awoke anew. Just then they turned a corner, and came almost face to face with Mrs. Morton and little Marie. The face of the child, when she ^caught sight of Fred, became wreathed in smiles, and she ran forward with outstretched hands to meet him, the patter of her footsteps making sofi music on the pavement as she did so. “Mama.” she called. “ ’Ere's Fed, ’ere’f Fed!” Mrs. Morton laughed. “She saw you even before I did, Fred. This will bf her first day at church, and I’m won dering how she’ll behave.” Then turn ing to the little one, she called; “Come, Marie, let us go.” And Marie, tugging at Fred’s brown hand, lisped; “Come, Fed, go.” “But I cannot,” he said, stooping, and trying gently to disengage his hand from her grasp. “Run with mama now.’’ “No, no.” she said, shaking her head, and looking pleadingly Into his eyes: “Fed—go—baby." “But Fed cannot,” he said, ^ill gent ly though positively. “Fed must go with the boys. By. by.” Then he pushed her away, hoping she would wave "by, by" in the sweet little way she had learned, though he saw her lips were trembling, and her bright eyes filled with tears. “By, by.” he said again, and start ed off. But Marie, instead of waving goodby. or kissing her finger tips, as she had been taught to do, sat on the ground, and, bowing her little face almost to her knees, gobbed: “Fed— leave—baby! Baby ’ant Fed!” It was too much for one who loved her as Fred did, and, leaving his com panions he came to her side and lift- speck of cayenne and more salt. , . . _ . . _ milk into the yard, and the gentleman stop necessary. Put in a pint <5T warm mux. __ »„ ttw boll up once and serve. If you like a little lemon juice add the last thing. This makes a quart of soup. The plstache nuts may he purchased already salted in the open sheHa, pea his team, and listened kindly to the boy's request. “A baby ill?” he asked with real sympathy In his voice. Then added: “I will come at once. Jump in. my boy, and wait until 1 get my satchel. I shall ed her to her feet, saying; “Come on, then, little Marie. Don’t cry." But she had been hurt to the heart, and even after the tears had been wiped from her cheeks her baby breast heaved witr dry sobs. She took .the boy’s hand obediently, however, and walked beside him until they had reached and entered the church, and then sat quietly between him and her mother, watching, with childish inter est, the people about them, until, over come by weariness, she fell asleep. lng to one or two prominent papers ask ing the loan of old scrap books and MSS . also being given the liberty of such pri vate libraries as those of Colonel Park, of Macon, and our own Uncle Remus, her purpose soon became known, and she was deuiged with manuscripts and out-of-print books, which would have been unobtainable save for the kindne-s of the authors From sunny-shored Cal ifornia Harry Lynden Flash, sent his lit tle book of verse, from which she got "ZeUicoffer" and "Whart She Brought Me." So with many others. Buying scores of old books with |bhe aid of deal ers and old catalogs, sife spent a busy teacher's well-earned rest compiling, reading, pruning. For two years she labored incessantly, and aided by her mother in preparing copy for the printer, she spent the summer of 1896 in Phila delphia reading proof, sheets of the forth coming “Songs of the South." One poem poets, as wel] as prolific ones, are represented therein. Slhe has garnered from her wealth of material gems almost forgotten and wholly inac cessible to most people. I granced through my copy as soon as I got it, and noticed a poem I had only recently wished for in vain—Harry S. Edwards’ “Vulture.” It is a fine original concep tion, .but I know of no other collection wherein the poem can be found. Harry Flash's, Judge Blackley’s and many oth ers’ poems are herein preserved and made accessible to readers of small means and leisure. Miss Clarke, in her work, was com pelled to 'build from the ground up. There was nothing else of this kind whereby to plan and 'perfect, and this made her work doubly hard. The neces sary information was very hard to get— that is, the reliable, accurate informa tion which makes the yal'll at any biographical sketches. She pe ’severed,? however, an<j with her indefatigable ergiy has succeeded in supplying book with a life sketch of each ] which is especially helpful. The dok indexing by authors and titles of pojj makes it particularly convenient reference work. So much trout} these appendices give Miss Cla she laughingly diagnosed it is a severe cast of apper glance through the index of one Joy—one hundred and) authors and not one unwor in the entire 333 pages. The reception accorded it of the entire country was cij the spirit In which it many individual writers of tatlon. Maurice Thompson.i lamented dead, wrote her: \ book you have made, and wL display it is of southern sonv J min F. Meek, of the UniversiiV bama; Charles W. Hulbner, or and many others were unstinting praises of the work. "We had realized how very good was the many of the minor southern poet , we turned over the pages of this j ient collection.” wrote The World of Boston. “In gathering from the vast era of literature these gems. Miss Clarke has ■ihown a ripe judgment, great energy and i true appreciation of the rythmic har- nonies of verse,” concluded John Shir ley Ward in The Los Angeles Herald n an excellent and Just review of this vork. “Miss Clarke,” says Joel Chandleg Harris, in his introduction to this wo**, "has made this collection with the in dustry and enthusiasm that are neces sary to the success of such an undertak ing, and her selections have been made with taste and Judgment.” "It was a labor of love,” Miss Clarks wrote me recently, "and the thanks of lovers of southern literature are all the reward I have received, but I am sat isfied.” i It is a worthy work, and It Is to be hoped the next edition will be sufficiently large to supply the need, unsupplied by the first edition now wholly exhausted. Easy Moviss. A Hartford man tells this story of Mark Twain; One day a friend met the humorist on the street. He was carrying a cigar b-'x under his arm. Stopping Mr. Clemens, the friend said: “Clemens. I am afraid you’re smoking too much.” "Oh. it isn’t that,” explained the hu morist; “the fact is, I’m moving again.* JURY SERVICE. (From The Chicago Record-Herald.) There is one man serving on the petit jury at present who has learned by bit ter experience that there is often much to be g'alned by merely bolding one's tongue. On the evening of the day on which the notice was served, he foolishly told his wife that he would be a juryman for three weeks, that he would receive S2 per day, and SI per day for mileage. Some one told him that, and he believed He said that he would give her that money for her new spring suit, and the delighted lady went down town next day and selected it. She gave him glowing descriptions of it every night at dinner, and also hinted that she would j need a new hat to go with It. Yesterday he discovered that instead of three weeks' service, only two would be required, that Saturdays are not In cluded, and that he would receive *1 for mileage for the first day only. He explained aill this to his wife, telling her that, of course, he could give her only S2I Instead of the $54 which he had expected. But she refused to see it his way. She says that he promised her $54. that she has practically expended that amount, and that* he has got to make good. So the poor fellow is $33 out. and he bitterly regrets the day that his name was drawn from the wheel.