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of KEnHESAW V '^ l (C)i-AUL6Y. H-TM Vol. V. The Brookside. BY LORD HOUGHTON. I wandered by the brookside, 1 wandered by the mill; I could not hear the brook How, — The noisy wheel was still. There was no burr of grashopper, No chirp of any bird, But the beating of my own heart Was all the sound I heard. I sat beneath the elm-tree: 1 watched the long, long shade, And, as it grew still longer, I did not feel afraid; For 1 listened for a footfall, 1 listened for a word, — But the beating of my own heart Was all the sound I heard. He came not, —no, he came not, — The night came on alone, — The little stars sat one by one, Each on his golden throne; The evening air passed by my cheek, The leaves above were stirred, But the beating of my own heart Was all the sound I heard. Fast, silent tears were flowing, When something stood behind: A hand was on my shoulder, — I knew its touch was kind: It drew me nearer —nearer — We did not speak one word, For the beating of our own hearts Was all the sound we heard. The Colored Brother Got the Dose. A veterinary surgeon had occasion to instruct a colored stableman how to administer medicine to adoling horse. He was to get a common tin tube —a bean-blower —put a dose of the medicine into it, insert one end of the tube into the horse’s mouth, and blow vigorously into the other end, and so force the medicine down the horse’s throat. Half an hour afterward the colored msfl appeared at the surgeon’s office, looking very much out of sorts. “ What is the matter?” inquired the doctor, with some concern. “Why, boss, dathoss, he — he biowed fust! ’ — Youth’s Companion. The Western & Atlantic Railroad is the only line by which passengers coming from the west or north-west make connection in the Union Passen ger Depot, Atlanta. It is also an im portant matter for those coming to Atlanta to bear in mind that all the street car lines in the city start from within one square of the Union Pas senger Depot, and passengers reaching Atlanta from the west by any other line are landed more than four squares from the line of the nearest street car. The carrot is the root crop preferred by horses. The mode of feeding car rots to horses is to chop them fine and give each horse hqlf a peck tidies a week. A iiunaorou-s dare-devil—the very no an to suit nay purpose. OUR “GEORGIA WATERMELON” NUMBER. The World’s First Wedding. What a morning that was of the world’s first wedding! Sky without a cloud. Atmosphere without a chill. Foliage without a crumpled leaf. Meadows without a thorn. It shall be in church —the great temple of a world, sky-domed, mountain-pil lared, sapphire-roofed. The sparkling waters of the Gihon and Hiddekel will make the fount of the temple. Larks, robins and goldfinches will chant the wedding march. Violet, lily and rose burning incense in the morning sun. Luxuriant vines sweeping their long trails through the forest aisle —uphols- tery of a spring morning. Wild beasts standing outside the circle looking on, like family servants from the back door gazing upon the nuptials; the ea gle, king of birds; the locust, king of insects; the lion, king of beasts, wait- Carpet of grass like emerald for ►the human pair to walk on. Hum of excitement, as there always is before a cerenfbny. Grass blades and leaves whispering, and the birds a-chatter, each one to his mate. Hush, all the clouds. Hush, all the birds. Hush, the waters, for tW king of the human race advances, and his bride. Perfect man, leading to the altar a perfect wo man. God, her father gives away the bride, and angels are the witnesses, and tears of morning dew stand in the blue eyes of the violets. And Adam takes the round hand, that has never been worn with work or stung with pain, in to his own stout grasp and says: “This is now bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh.” Tumults of joy break forth and all the trees of the wood clap their hands, and all the galleries of the forest sound with carol and chirp and chant, and the circle of Edenic hap piness is complete; for while every quail hath answering quajl, and every ATLANTA, CA., JUNE 15, 1890. VdK u 8? He took the wrong route. No trip-ups.on the W. &A, fish answering fish, and every fowl answering fowl, and every beast of the forest a fit companion, at last man, the immortal, has for mate, woman, the immortal. MARRIED —Wednesday, the Ist day of June, in the year 1, ADAM, the first man, to EVE, the first woman, High Heaven officiating. — Talmage. How many have used the expres sion, “the tune the (Id cow died on,” without any definite idea of its mean ing or origin ? It seems to have come to us from over the sea. It arose out of an old song: There was an old man and he had an old cow, *And he had nothing to give her; So he took out his fiddle and played her a tune: “Consider, good cow, consider; This is no time of year for the grass to grow— Consider, good cow, consider.” The old cow died of hunger; and when any grotesquely melancholy song or tune is uttered, the North country people say, “That is the tune the old cow died on.” Do you think your sister likes to have me come there Jamey ? You bet. You take her to the theatre and bring her candies. I am glad I can make her happy. Yes, and the other feller what she’s engaged to don’t mind it, either, for it saves him that much money toward going to housekeeping. Simonstern (the auctioneer) —Here I hes a chenuine diamond ring, vort dree hundret und feefty foliar. Der vidow ohs a man dot died sudden has gotter sell it. How mooch am I offert? Customer (promptly)—Ten cents. Simonstern —Take it avay, unt pay at der desk. Chflkey pring up der Dead Jod! Bulwib. Love and Spring. One far-off day, when Time was young, And Spring, a new-born fairy, About the world her mantle flung With many a sweet vagary, The chiming of the lily bells, Her dainty footsteps’ after, The busy brook, where rippling dwells Soft echo of her laughter, Awoke young Love, who sleeping lay; Then up the urchin started And vowed by all the buds of May They’d never more be parted. Her heart beneath its golden zone Grew lighter than a feather; If Love and Spring are fair alone, What must they be together ? A power that earth to heaven uplifts— Ah, wisely was it fated, That two of Jove’s divinest gifts Should be forever mated! —Sydney Grey. Why Woman is Man’s Best Friend. First and foremost, woman is man’s best friend: Because she is h’s mother. Second, becausa she is his wife. Because she is patient with him in illness, endures his fretfulness and “mothers” him. Because she will stick to him through good and evil report, and always believe in him, if she loves him. Because without her he would be rude, rough and ungodly. Because she teaches him the value of gentle words, of kindly thought and of consideration. Because she can, with him, endure pain quietly and meet joy gladly. Because, on her breast, he can shed tears of repentance, and he is never re minded of them afterwards. Because when he is behaving like a fretful boy —and we all do, you know, at times —with no reason in the world for it, woman’s soft word, touch or glance will make him ashamed of him self as he ought to be. Because without her as an incentive he would grow lazy; there would be no good work done, there would be no no ble books written, there would be no beautiful pictures painted, there would be no divine strains of melody. Because she has made for us a beau tiful world in which we should be proud to live, and contented to die. Because —and this is the best reason of all—when the world had reached an unenviable state of wickedness, the blessed task of bringing it a Saviour for all mankind was given to a woman, which was God’s way of setting his seal of approval on her who is mother, wife, daughter and sweetheart, and, there fore, man’s best friend.— Ladies Home Journal. The Western & Atlantic Railroad M tow M the ( ‘old reliable.” NO. 12.